Saviour on the cross, apparently suspended between the roof of the chapel
and the gallery opposite to where I stood; his sacred body appeared of a
bluish hue, apparently with the bruises he had received; and the blood
appeared to be fresh as it was shed from his hands, his head, his feet,
and his side. This continued a few moments, clearly presented to me. I
put my hat to my face, to conceal my tears from those around me, and
returned home, musing on the affecting sight. But this was not attended
with any assurance of salvation, nor could I yet see my interest in
_him_, nor call _him_ mine; but it left me more than ever anxious to know
the truth clearer, as it is in Jesus. I told an old experimental
Christian of it, some time after, and she told me, she had no doubt it
was a signal of, my spiritual birth, and that I should one day be called,
perhaps, to preach a crucified Saviour to others.
I do not pretend to say this vision was any part of my salvation, but
surely it was a token for good; and no heart can conceive the sacred joy
I felt some time afterwards, in reading the history of the conversion of
Constantine the Great, by a sight of the cross in the air; and the vision
of a crucified Saviour, which was given to Colonel Gardiner; Mr.
Connick’s and Mr. Hart’s experience; and the affecting views given those
good men of the Lord Jesus, in his suffering circumstances. Isaiah saw
the same; but Daniel, Ezekiel, and John saw the dear Saviour, as
glorified. However, the Spirit leading us into all truth, and glorifying
Christ, by shewing us his salvation, is the one thing needful.
Adieu. J. C.
LETTER IV.
“Seek ye me, and ye shall live, saith the Lord.”
To —
Various were my frames, changes, fears, doubts, and hopes, till I could
ascertain my “Title clear to mansions in the skies.” Nothing, I thought,
could possibly make me sensible of this, and the pardon of my sins, but
some powerful voice from heaven, or some wonderful appearance of the
Saviour to me, in a visible form. I have sat a long time together,
looking up in the air for some glorious visions of Christ; then I thought
the Lord would assure me of pardon; then I hoped he would take away the
power of sin, and so effectually subdue it, that I should never sin any
more. This was my hope and expectation; for this I prayed constantly and
fervently—and having read of the various appearances of the Saviour to
some good men, and that conversion was a change of nature, I had a
pleasing hope that this would one day be my happy lot. When sin overcame
me, then I despaired of such a favour, and when could pray well, and walk
strictly holy, then my hopes were big:—in this way I went on for many
months, even though I sat under the sound of the gospel. But who could
have thought this was all delusion: I found it to be so after; and have
often wondered I could be so blind, when I had not the least promise of
any such revelations, or such a change of nature. Many, who have been
deluded with wonderful visions, and others who have boosted of this
change of nature, and have got almost perfect, have since turned out
perfect devils. My soul was, however, very anxious to be saved; and
continuing under the gospel, whenever I could hear it, my judgement got
pretty clearly furnished. I was led to see the glorious doctrines of the
Trinity; eternal election; the atonement; and imputed righteousness of
the Saviour, the necessity of the Spirit’s work, and the doctrine of the
final perseverance of the saints.—These precious truths gradually opened
to my view; _but_ the power of sin, attended with a sense of guilt; the
sense of God’s anger; the fears of death; the solemnities of the last
great day; and an awful eternity, often sunk my mind: my heart, at times,
meditated terror, and experienced many real and imaginary horrors. When
I looked at the holy law, it condemned me; and when it was opened to me,
in its spirituality, I found that it reached to the thoughts and intents
of the heart; then I died to all hope of salvation by that law; the Lord
searched my heart, and shewed me some of the evils that were in it; I saw
the justice of God in my condemnation, and was angry with God that I was
ever created; and, as many others have, so I envied the _pretty_ birds
and the _brute_ creation, because they had no souls, no day of judgment,
nor any angry God to meet. If I read the New Testament, I was just as
bad off, as that cut me to the heart; for there I read—“He that believeth
not shall be damned; he that believeth not is condemned already;” and, as
I had made a profession: the following text was dreadful to my mind—“If
we sin wilfully, after we have received the knowledge of the truth, there
remaineth no more sacrifice for sin.” These awful texts were like swords
in my heart; and when I reflected that God was immutable, that he could
not change, that he is one mind, and I could not turn him by all my
prayers, cries, or intreaties; these things, and the power and guilt of
sin, I still felt with a deep sense of my own weakness and inability to
do any thing that was good. I say this complication of awful convictions
fell, at times, very deeply upon my mind. I knew, indeed, that Christ
was able to save me, but I had no idea of his willingness: it was not
with me now, whether I _would_ be saved or not; but whether Christ
_would_ save me? Here was no free-will in the business; I found it was
not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, for I did both—but of
God, which sheweth mercy. Here, all the wooing and beseeching to close
with Christ, which we hear from the pulpit, I found to be folly and
madness; as well as the doctrine of universal salvation and redemption;
for I could not believe that the Saviour died for me—and yet, amidst all
these sensations, I was often encouraged by the Word, and the good
conversation of others, especially by such promises as these: “Those that
seek me early shall find me;” “Your heart shall live that seek God;”
“Seek and ye shall find;” “Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast
out.”
I remember once opening upon a hymn, in Mr. Whitfield’s Collection, and
found these two lines—
“It was for _sinners_ Jesus died,
Then sure I heard he died for me.”
In a moment I felt a sensible ray of hope spring up in my heart, upon the
ground of the atonement, and I think I have never lost that hope to this
day: the Lord led me through all this soul travail, to see my need of a
Mediator; one to stand in the gap; one that was able to lay his hands on
both parties; God with God, and man with man; and I was at times highly
favored with very precious views of Christ, in his offices and
characters; yet I constantly feared I should die before I could see my
interest in him, and before I could believe in him, though I believed in
him all the while. Yet I could not see, at that time, the difference
between _faith_ and _sense_, or _faith_ and the _end_ of faith. I did
not know there was any difference between _faith_, the _assurance_ of
faith, and the _full assurance_ of faith.
One Sunday morning I heard Mr. Huntington, on _Song_, iii. 11. Oh, what
a sweet morning it was to me! I had such a glorious view of the dear
Saviour, that I would have given the universe for ability to call him
mine. But this sweet view went off, the veil closed again, and sin was
ever before me. At times I could open my mind freely, at the throne of
grace; at other times I was so shut up that I thought it of no use;
sometimes I was filled with desires, longings, hungerings, and thirstings
after Christ; and then I was left in barrenness, carnal ease, and a dead
calm, till sin was felt again, and my distress increased. This one thing
I found awfully true—
“The more I strove against sin’s power,
I sinned and stumbled yet the more.”
I found my strength perfect weakness; and sin, guilt, and satan, too
strong for human ability. I had many temptations to disbelieve the
Bible, to doubt the very being of a God, and to entertain very hard
thoughts of him. I felt my rebellion rise, and found I was an enemy in
my nature and practice. These things troubled my spirit; yet the
preaching of the Word, at times, sweetly encouraged me to hope. I
endeavoured to subdue sin, by various stratagems, but I found it was all
toiling up Labour-in-vain Hill; and being beat out of every refuge,
sinking in the miry clay; and finding the horrible pit, in some degree,
but not so deep as many have, I longed to be brought to a point about my
state; to see my sins pardoned; my interest clear; God reconciled and
well pleased with me, in Christ. I was, indeed, come to the birth, but
had not yet strength to bring forth. Yet none shall shut their doors, or
kindle a fire on God’s altar for nought. Those whom he chastens he will
give rest to; and those who seek him shall find him, sooner or later.
“For the needy shall not always be forgotten; the expectation of the poor
shall not perish for ever.”
Yours, J. C.
These sweet lines were whispered to my soul with joy:—
“The vision is for an appointed time; though _it_ tarry, wait for
_it_; _it_ will surely come, _it_ will not tarry.” For,
“The time of love will come,
When _thou_ shalt clearly see,
Not only that he shed his blood.
But that it flow’d for _thee_.”
“For the children are come to the birth, but they have not strength
to bring forth.”
“Shall I cause to travail, and not cause to bring forth? saith thy
God.”
I hope you are so well versed in Scripture that you know where these
precious texts lay, without my directing you.
LETTER V.
“Thou hast manifested thy name to the men thou gavest me out of the
world.”
To —
What the Holy Spirit has declared in his Word, all the Lord’s children
find most blessed; the Lord is good to them that wait for him; to the
soul that seeketh him. I have often found it very blessed to wait _for_
the Lord; in waiting on him. And this verse of Good Mr. Toplady’s was
sweet to my soul:—
“But, Lord, if thou ne’er hast design’d
No covenant blessing for me;
Then tell me how it is I find
Such a sweetness in waiting for thee?”
The Lord will arise, in his own time, and have mercy upon Zion, when the
set time to favour her is come. And so I found it; for, one Friday
morning, while working at my business, as well as I can remember, I was
exceedingly low in mind, ruminating over my uncomfortable mind and
feelings, I could truly say I was brought very low—when, suddenly, these
words were darted into my mind—“The Son of man is come to save _that_
which was lost.” This was attended with such light and power as to
astonish me. I instantly felt sweet liberty of mind; I was deeply
affected, sweetly melted, and at the same time filled with gratitude,
peace, and joy. I saw the wonderous love of God, in sending his dear
Son, and the vast infinite grace, mercy, and condescension of the dear
Saviour, in the errand on which he came. I was overwhelmed with holy
surprise, while the words in their power and sweetness continued with me,
and made it personal, in the term _that_ which was lost. I knew God had
shewn me, in some measure, that I was a poor lost sinner, guilty and
hell-deserving; that I had no might or power to subdue one sin, although
I had made a thousand vows and resolutions; but every thing I could say,
every argument I could use against myself, was of no use. The heavenly
sensation was so powerful, that it bore down all before it, and continued
with me all that day, and the day following, although not with equal
power. I was now brought to a point about my state; I knew, without a
doubt, the Saviour loved, came, lived, and died for me. I could truly
say I loved him, and could rejoice in his salvation; his kind heart was
open to me, and I held a sweet and rapturous communion with him. On the
Monday following I felt this in a measure abated, and went to Providence
Chanel; but, as soon as the text was named, I felt determined to leave
the place: it was—“Cast out the bond woman and her son.” I had heard the
text taken by the good man once before, and I thought we were going to
have another controversial sermon on the moral law—bring tired of that
subject, I was fearful I should lose my comfortable frame; but I was
happily disappointed, for the minister opened the subject in such a clear
and glorious manner, by describing the liberty of the children of God,
that I was fully confirmed in the work of God on my soul; the remembrance
of this is still sweet and precious. My joy was full, and at the close
of the sermon I fled from every one, lest I should see any one I knew; I
wanted to speak to no living creature, but to enjoy fellowship with the
Saviour. I have often thought how much I should like to have gone home
to glory at that time; but, alas! many sorrows of body, soul, and
circumstances, were my destined lot; which has often made me ask, in fits
of rebellion—
“Are these the blessings we expect,
Is this the lot of thine elect?”
This heavenly frame subsided, but it left a sweet confidence behind,
which I have never fully lost, as my faith and confidence was often fed
by the Word of God; and, indeed, faith can feast upon nothing else.
I now began to read and hear, as it were, with new eyes and ears. The
doctrines of the gospel were now precious to my soul. I admired them
before, but I ate them now: as Jeremiah words it—“Thy words were found,
and I did eat them, and they were the rejoicing of my heart.” And I must
speak it to the honour of God, that, although he has favored me with many
blessed tokens of his love, many precious promises, enlargements, and
views, but none so powerful as the first; yet there was enough power in
them to bring me to the Saviour, and to prove the reality of the work of
God on my soul. My grand business was now to gain all the spiritual
knowledge I could; and the Lord soon after this led me into my public
work, which I thought would be attended with a great increase of holiness
of nature and life, of devotedness to God, and of an opportunity of
studying his word; but I found, instead of an increase of holiness of
nature an increase of sin. Not that I was more sinful, but had greater
discoveries of it; and, instead of getting stronger in the service of
God, I felt my strength perfect weakness. Popularity, noise, company,
and bustle, stripped me of all my savouriness, and I was long left to
struggle with my old sin again. Yet the Lord gave testimony to the word
of his grace, and gave me liberty of speech, to the wonder of many, who
knew my origin, and the scantiness of my education. The Lord never left
me a moment, in my public work, to confusion, but was with me in some way
or other, every time I stood up; and when I have gone to my work in the
pulpit, frequently in bondage, darkness, and sorrow, my nervous system
weak, and satan permitted to harrass me sorely, to the giving out my
text; even then I have had the most blessed seasons, and at the close of
my sermons could only fall on my knees, adoring and praising a
long-suffering and a faithful God. On this subject I need not enlarge,
as those who are in the work of the ministry well know what it is to pass
through many painful seasons, and how graciously the Lord appears for
them. Sometimes the work of God has been so very low in my mind, that I
could scarcely trace a vestige of it; this has sunk my heart, till the
Lord has appeared again, and renewed the work, led my mind out again to
the Saviour, melted me with his love, and favored me with his more
sensible presence. Hence the prophet prayed—“Oh, Lord, revive thy work
in the midst of the years.” Pious Ezra calls it “a little reviving in
our bondage;” and David prays, “Wilt thou not revive us again?” This is
what the apostle calls the renewing of the Holy Ghost. The work is
perfect in all its parts, when first began, but it must be brought forth
into act and exercise; it must be seen and known, God the Holy Spirit
must maintain it, and keep it up; and this is done by his secret
influence. “I will water them every moment, and keep them night and
day.” How this is done I know not; but it is our mercy it is so, and
will be perfected, while a dear Redeemer pleads in heaven.—“I have prayed
for thee, that thy faith fail not.”
Yours, J. C.
LETTER VI.
“The righteous shall hold on his way, and he that hath clean hands
shall wax stronger and stronger.”
To —
It is our mercy, the Holy Spirit, in the hearts of God’s children, is
given to them to _abide_ with them. Never will _he_ leave his own to the
power of sin or to satan. The Psalmist was blest with this confidence
when he said—“The Lord will perfect that which concerned me; forsake not
the work of thy hands; thy mercy, O Lord, endureth for ever.” This is
explained by the apostle being confident of this very thing, that _he_
who hath begun the good work will perform it, until the day of Jesus
Christ; and hence Solomon says—“I know that what God doeth is for ever,
nothing shall be taken from it, or added to it; and he doeth it that men
should fear before him.” This work, in the first operation, is
_regeneration_, and its continuance is _sanctification_; its effect is
_conversion_, and its renewing, after dead and dark seasons, is a
_revival_. Many such I have experienced; which, to relate, would swell
this memoir to a vast volume. There is one particular circumstance,
among many, which I must here relate, although you are already in
possession of the account in my little work, “The Voice of Faith in the
Valley of Achor:”—
“After I had been in this furnace some weeks, in which I felt as
others do in similar cases, much grief, anger, rebellion, and
discontent, but not quite without a spirit of prayer that I might be
favored with the very gracious visits of the Saviour, and a sense of
God’s approbation in my own soul, though despised by others, I
entreated the Lord to shew me the exceeding sinfulness of sin, as
well as I could bear it; for I am convinced no man could ever behold
sin in all its malignity—none but the God-Man could bear that—yet I
desired to see sin as most abominable in God’s sight. These
petitions were in time answered; the Lord led me to reflect deeply,
in my retired moments, on the nature of sin, original and
actual.—This knowledge of it increased, till one evening, being
alone, I was most completely overpowered with a solemn stillness of
spirit, a view of sin, my own sins of heart, lip, and life; these
crowded into my mind. I felt guilty. I stood condemned. I had a
fearful apprehension of God’s just displeasure; all was dark within,
except sin and the anger of God—these were clear enough; horror
overwhelmed me, and I sunk low at the footstool of divine mercy; I
feared, I trembled, I was brought low, I was troubled. I saw nothing
of a Saviour, though I had so often preached about him. Head notions
were nothing now—past experience was hid, and every gracious promise
of the Bible was closed up for a time. What a state to be in! But I
believe this was drinking of the bitter cup our Saviour drank so
deeply; this was, in one sense, being crucified with Christ, and
having fellowship with him in his sufferings. These feelings will
give a man a real understanding of all those texts which refer to
soul trouble, in the book of Job, the Psalms of David, feelings of
Jeremiah, and, perhaps, what Paul felt during the three days he was
without sight, and did neither eat nor drink. These feelings will
make me sympathise with the soul that is afflicted, and experiences
the terrors of the Almighty.
But I do esteem it among my many special favors, this did not
continue but part of a night. I sunk down in shame and distress,
condemning myself, and acknowledging the justice of God in my
condemnation. But while in this state, thus broken, contrite, and
filled with holy awe, I was kept pleading for mercy—present mercy as
well as future. While on my knees prostrate, as Elijah on another
occasion, or, as Jeremiah words it—putting my mouth in the dust;—and
although I really was filled with fear lest I should be cut off, yet
at this very time the Lord gently led my mind, or rather brought the
following words very softly to my heart: they were at first seemingly
at a distance, but drew nearer as I listened and observed them. The
words were, ‘I have caused thine iniquities to pass from thee, and
have clothed thee with change of raiment.’ I observed my mind could
not gladly receive this sentence, fearing presumption—but they still
followed me, and abode with me, till the horror, terror, fears, and
darkness gradually dispersed, and my mind was enabled so far to
receive them as to cause a present ease, which continued with me a
few days longer. I found the peace they brought with them continue,
and I was in a small degree helped to believe they were from God to
me, and as much mine as they were Joshua’s, to whom they were spoken;
but though my thoughts were in a measure fixed upon them, yet I was
not without being assaulted with some misgivings of heart. I
concluded it best to entreat the Lord to shew me this more
powerfully, and not only to put the words in my mind, but to write
them so effectually that I might know, without the shadow of a doubt,
I was actually interested in the capital blessings the words
contained. This was most divinely manifested in a few days
afterwards, as I was in the act of reading some remarks of the truly
excellent Mr. Toplady, on Justification by the imputed Righteousness
of the adorable God-Man. I was actually overcome with a sweet
surprise of the love of God to me in Christ Jesus, making his dear
Son a sin offering, and his people righteousness in him. I was
enabled to feel such solid peace, holy joy, and sacred pleasure in my
soul as can never be described by tongue or pen. I was melted by the
power of his love, and indulged with such access to God, that every
doubt, fear, and misgiving of heart, was removed. I saw, I knew, I
felt that I was reconciled to God, and that God was my Father, my
Saviour, my Comforter.—Oh, that I had then sunk into the arms of
death! O that I had been permitted to take my flight! At that time
the Saviour had engaged my heart, nor could I then have sinned
against him for the world. I want many such sweet manifestations of
his sensible presence; and I can assure you, painful as my situation
is, I would gladly endure it again for such enjoyments. But I must
observe, these blessed seasons are unknown to carnal professors, and
never enjoyed, even by the favorites of heaven, while in a light,
careless, carnal frame of soul; no—the promise runs thus, ‘To this
man will I look, (and surely it was a look of love which I
experienced) and with him will I dwell, who is poor and of a contrite
heart, and that trembles at my word.’”
After this most blessed manifestation, the Lord gradually opened my mind,
gave me a discerning eye to discover and receive the Bible testimony of
the Lord Jesus, accompanied with a fixation of soul and a stayedness upon
him. I now no longer depend upon past experience, but am pressing
forward to know the person and glory of Christ, as the expression of the
Father’s love; the covenant transactions of the adorable Trinity; the
union subsisting between Christ and my soul, founded on his union with my
nature, and his union with the Father; the great act of his incarnation;
the holiness of his nature, and his wonderful life, as the obedience and
righteousness of his church; the putting away sin by the sacrifice of
himself, and the virtue, glory, and dignity of that precious work; his
triumphant resurrection, for his dear people, and glorious ascension; his
life of intercession in heaven, and his carrying on the work of salvation
as an advocate with the Father; this is the grand object I am aiming to
grow into the knowledge of, that I may live a life of faith upon him,
enjoy communion with him, and live to his glory; that I may make manifest
the savour of his name in _every_ place, not only in the pulpit, but in
every other place and company where I can. Knowing the evil of sin, the
weakness of the creature, and the value of Christ, I want daily to die to
self, and live to him; to go out of self, as sinful, moral, or gracious,
and by looking to Jesus in the Word, I may enjoy peace in believing; thus
to live to his honour, and to be useful to his people, to die in his
smiles, and to be with him for ever; to behold his glory, being found in
him, having no other robe but that which he has wrought out, nor any
other increased glory, but the work of his own spirit. This is all my
salvation, and all my desire for my own soul, and for the whole of God’s
family the Lord calls me to labour among.
Yours, J. C.
LETTER VII.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”
To —