To Lady Maxwell

C—— drew the same inference from her own experience, and was as positive that she could not fall from that state, or sin, as S—— R—— can be now.

But “none can be sanctified without a deep knowledge of themselves, and of the devices of Satan.” They may, without the latter; which God will give them in due time. And the former He can give in a moment; and frequently does, of which we have fresh instances almost everyday. In the “Thoughts on Perfection,” it is observed, that, before any can be assured they are saved from sin, they must not only feel no sin, but “have a direct witness” of that salvation. And this several have had as clear as S—— R—— has, who afterwards fell from that salvation: Although S— — R——, to be consistent with her scheme, must deny they ever had it; yea, and must affirm, that witness was either from nature or from the devil. If it was really from God, is he well-pleased with this? I know not how to reconcile speaking sharply or roughly, or even a seeming want of meekness, with perfection. And yet I am fearful of condemning whom God has not condemned. What I cannot understand, I leave to Him.

How is it that you make me write longer letters to you than I do almost to any one else? I know not how, I find a greater concern for your welfare. I want you to be exactly right. This occasions my not thinking much of any pains that may give you help or satisfaction. The Lord touch your heart now, that all your tempers, thoughts, words, and works may be holiness unto our God.

I am yours, etc.

—————

CCCXXX. — To Lady Maxwell.

NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE, June 20, 1764.

WILL it be agreeable to my dear Lady Maxwell, that I trouble her with a letter so soon? and that I write with so little ceremony? that I use no compliment, but all plainness of speech? If it be not, you must tell me so, and I shall know better how to speak for the time to come. Indeed, it would be unpleasing to me to use reserve: The regard I feel for you strongly inclines me to “think aloud,” to tell you every thought which rises in my heart. I think God has taken unusual pains, so to speak, to make you a Christian; a Christian indeed, not in name, worshipping God in spirit and in truth; having in you the mind that was in Christ, and walking as Christ also walked. He has given you affliction upon affliction; he has used every possible means to unhinge your soul from things of earth, that it might fix on him alone. How far the design of his love has succeeded, I could not well judge from a short conversation. Your Ladyship will therefore give me leave to inquire, Is the heaviness you frequently feel merely owing to weakness of body, and the loss of near relations? I will hope it is not. It might, indeed, at first spring from these outward pressures. But did not the gracious Spirit of God strike in, and take occasion from these to convince you of sin, of unbelief, of the want of Christ? And is not the sense of this one great cause, if not the greatest, of your present distress? If so, the greatest danger is, either that you should stifle that conviction, not suffering yourself to be convinced that you are all sin, the chief of sinners; or, that you should heal the wound slightly, that you should rest before you know Christ is yours, before his Spirit witnesses with your spirit, that you are a child of God. My dear Lady, be not afraid to know yourself; yea, to know yourself as you are known. How soon, then, will you know your Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the Righteous! And why not this day? Why not this hour? If you feel your want, I beseech the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ to look upon you now! O give thy servant power to believe! to see and feel how thou hast loved her! Now let her sink down into the arms of thy love; and say unto her soul, “I am thy salvation.”

With regard to particular advises, I know not how far your Ladyship would have me to proceed. I would not be backward to do anything in my power; and yet I would not obtrude. But in any respect you may command,

My dear Lady,

Your Ladyship’s affectionate servant.

CCCXXXI. — To the Same.

MY DEAR LADY, MANCHESTER, July 10, 1764.

TILL I had the pleasure of receiving yours, I was almost in doubt, whether you would think it worth your while to write or not. So much the more I rejoiced when that doubt was removed, and removed in so agreeable a manner. I cannot but think of you often: I seem to see you just by me, panting after God, under the heavy pressure of bodily weakness and faintness, bereaved of your dearest relatives, convinced that you are a sinner, a debtor that has nothing to pay, and just ready to cry out, “Jesus, now I have lost my all,

Let me upon thy bosom fall”

Amen, Lord Jesus! Speak, for thy servant heareth! Speak thyself into her heart! Lift up the hands that hang down, and the feeble knees. Let her see these full of grace and truth, and make her glad with the light of thy countenance.

Do not stop, my dear Lady, one moment, “because you have not felt sorrow enough.” Your Friend above has felt enough of it for you. O Lamb of God, was ever pain,

Was ever love like thine!

Look, look unto him, and be thou saved! He is not a God afar off; he is now hovering over you with eyes of tenderness and love! Only believe! Then he turns your heaviness into joy. Do not think you are not humble enough, not contrite enough, not earnest enough. You are nothing; but Christ is all, and he is yours. The Lord God write it upon your heart, and take you for an habitation of God through the Spirit.

O that you may be ever as dead to the world as you are now! I apprehend the greatest danger from that quarter. If you should be induced to seek happiness out of Christ, how soon would your good desires vanish! Especially, if you should give way to the temptation to which your

person, your youth, and your fortune, will not fail to expose you. If you escape this snare, I trust you will be a real Christian, having the power, as well as the form, of religion. I expect you will then have likewise better health and spirits; perhaps tomorrow. But, O! take Christ today! I long to have you happy in him! Surely, few have a more earnest desire of your happiness than,

My very dear Lady,

Your Ladyship’s most affectionate servant.

CCCXXXII. — To the Same.

MY DEAR LADY, September 22, 1764.

YOU need be under no manner of apprehension of writing too often to me. The more frequent your letters are, the more welcome they will be. When I have not heard from you for some time, I begin to be full of fears; I am afraid, either that your bodily weakness increases, or that your desires after God grow cold. I consider, you are at present but a tender, sickly plant, easily hurt by any rough blast. But I trust this will not be so long; for you have a strong Helper. And the Lord, whom you serve, though feebly and imperfectly, will suddenly come to his temple. When, Lord? Are all things ready now? Here is the sinner; one whose mouth is stopped; who has nothing to pay; who pleads neither her own harmlessness, nor works, nor good desires, nor sincerity; but can adopt that strange word, — “I give up every plea beside,

Lord, I am damn’d; but thou hast died.”

He has died; therefore, you shall live. O do not reason against him! Let him take you now! Let him take you just as you are, and make you what is acceptable in his sight.

It gives me pleasure, indeed, to hear that God has given you resolution to join the society. Undoubtedly you will suffer reproach on the account; but it is the reproach of Christ. And you will have large amends, when the Spirit of glory and of God shall rest upon you. Yet I foresee a danger: At first you will be inclined to think that all the members of the society are in

earnest. And when you find that some are otherwise, (which will always be the case in so large a body of people,) then prejudice may easily steal in, and exceedingly weaken your soul. O beware of this rock of offense! When you see anything amiss, (upon hearsay you will not readily receive it,) remember our Lord’s word, “What is that to thee? Follow thou me.” And I entreat you, do not regard the half-Methodists, — if we must use the name. Do not mind them who endeavor to hold Christ in one hand, and the world in the other. I want you to be all a Christian; such a Christian as the Marquis de Renty, or Gregory Lopez, was. Such a one as that saint of God, Jane Cooper; all sweetness, all gentleness, all love. Methinks you are just what she was when I saw her first. I shrink at the thought of seeing you what she was when I saw her last. But why should I? What is all the pain of one that is glorifying God in the fires, with, “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit?”

May I not take upon me to give you one advice more? Be very wary how you contract new acquaintance. All, even sincere people, will not profit you. I should be pained at your conversing frequently with any but those who are of a deeply serious spirit, and who speak closely to the point. You need not condemn them, and yet you may say, “This will not do for me.”

May He that loves you richly supply all your wants, and answer your enlarged desires! So prays,

My very dear Lady,

Your affectionate servant.

CCCXXXIII. — To the Same.

MY DEAR LADY, LONDONDERRY, May

25,1765.

IT is not easy for me to express the satisfaction I received in the few hours I lately spent with you. Before I saw you, I had many fears concerning you, lest your concern for the one thing should be abated, lest your desires should be cooled, or your mind a little hurt, by any of the things which have lately occurred. So much the greater was my joy, when all those fears were removed; when I found the same openness and sweetness as before, both in your spirit and conversation, and the same earnestness of desire after the only thing which deserves the whole strength of our affection. I believe tenderness and steadiness are seldom planted by nature in one spirit. But what is too hard for almighty grace? This can give strength and softness together. This is able to find your soul with all firmness, as well as with all gentleness. And hereunto are you called; for nothing less than all the mind which was in Christ Jesus.

It was with great pleasure that I observed your fixed resolution not to rest in anything short of this. I know not why you should; why you should be content with being half a Christian, devoted partly to God, and partly to the world, or more properly to the devil. Nay, but let us be all for God. He has created the whole, our whole body, soul, and spirit. He that bought us hath redeemed the whole; and let him take the purchase of his blood. Let him sanctify the whole, that all we have and are may be a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving!

I am not afraid of your being satisfied with less than this; but I am afraid of your seeking it the wrong way. Here is the danger, that you should seek it, not by faith, but as it were by the works of the law. See how exactly the Apostle speaks: You do not seek it directly, but as it were by works. I fear, lest this should be your case, which might retard your receiving the blessing. Christ has died for you; he has bought pardon for you. Why should not you receive it now? while you have this paper in your hand? Because you have not done thus or thus? See your own works. Because you are not thus and thus? more contrite? more earnest? more sincere? See your own righteousness. O let it all go! None but Christ! None but Christ! And if he alone is sufficient; if what he has suffered and done, if his blood and righteousness are enough, they are nigh thee! in thy mouth, and in thy heart! See, all things are ready! Do not wait for this or that preparation! for something to bring to God! Bring Christ! Rather, let him bring you; bring you home to God! Lord Jesus, take her! Take her and all her sins! Take her as she is! Take her now! Arise, why tarriest thou? Wash away her sins! Sprinkle her with thy blood! Let her sink down into the arms of thy love, and cry out, “My Lord and my God!”

Let me hear from you as soon as you can. You do not know how great a satisfaction this is to,

My dear Lady,

Your ever affectionate servant.

Be pleased to direct to the New Room, in Dublin.

CCCXXXIV. — To the Same.

MY DEAR LADY, KILKENNY, July 5, 1765.

AS yours was sent from Dublin to Cork, and then back again hither, I did not receive it till yesterday. I am now setting my face again towards England; but I expect to be in Dublin till the beginning of next month, and then to cross over, so as to be at Manchester (if it please God) about the middle of August. Either at Dublin, or at Manchester, I hope to have the pleasure of hearing from you. This is indeed a pleasure, as it is to write to you; though sometimes I do this with fear; a fear, lest I should give you any pain, as I know the tenderness of your spirit. I wish I could be of some service to you; that I could encourage you to cast yourself on Him that loves you; that is now waiting to pour his peace into your heart, to give you an entrance into the holiest by his blood. See him, see him! full of grace and truth! full of grace and truth for thee! I do not doubt but he is gradually working in you; but I want you to experience, likewise, an instantaneous work. Then shall the gradual go on swiftly. Lord, speak! Thy servant heareth! Say thou, “Let there be light;” and there shall be light. Now let it spring up in your heart!

It may be, He that does all things well has wise reasons, though not apparent to us, for working more gradually in you, than he has done of late years in most others. It may please him to give you the consciousness of his favor, the conviction that you are accepted through the Beloved, by almost insensible degrees, like the dawning of the day. And it is all one, how it began, so you do but walk in the light. Be this given in an instant, or by degrees, hold it fast. Christ is yours; He hath loved you; He hath given

himself for you. Therefore, you shall be holy as He is holy, both in heart, and in all manner of conversation.

Give me leave, my dear friend, to add a word, likewise, concerning your bodily health. You should in anywise give yourself all the air and exercise that you can. And I should advise you (even though long custom made it difficult, if that were the case) to sleep as early as possible; never later than ten, in order to rise as early as health will permit. The having good spirits, so called, or the contrary, very much depends on this. I believe medicines will do you little service: You need only proper diet, exact regularity, and constant exercise, with the blessing of God. Your speaking or writing was never tedious to me yet; and I am persuaded never will be. Your letters are more and more agreeable to, My very dear Lady,

Your most affectionate servant.

CCCXXXV. — To the Same.

MY DEAR LADY, LONDON, December 1, 1765.

PERHAPS there is scarce any child of man that is not, at some time, a little touched by prejudice, so far, at least, as to be troubled, though not wounded. But it does not hurt, unless it fixes upon the mind. It is not strength of understanding which can prevent this. The heart, which otherwise suffers most by it, makes the resistance which only is effectual. I cannot easily be prejudiced against any person whom I tenderly love, till that love declines. So long, therefore, as our affection is preserved by watchfulness and prayer to Him that gave it, prejudice must stand at a distance. Another excellent defense against it is openness. I admire you upon this account. You dare (in spite of that strange reserve which so prevails in North Britain) speak the naked sentiments of your heart. I hope my dear friend will never do otherwise. In simplicity and godly sincerity, the very reverse of worldly wisdom, have all your conversation in the world.

Have you received a gleam of light from above, a spark of faith? O let it not go! Hold fast, by His grace, that token of His love, that earnest of your inheritance. Come just as you are, and come boldly to the throne of grace. You need not delay! Even now the bowels of Jesus Christ yearn over you. What have you to do with tomorrow? I love you today. And how much more does He love you! He

Pities still his wand’ring sheep,

Longs to bring you to his fold!

Today hear His voice; the voice of Him that speaks as never man spake; the voice that raises the dead, that calls the things which are not as though they were. Hark! What says He now? “Fear not; only believe! Woman, thy sins are forgiven thee; Go in peace; thy faith hath made thee whole.” Indeed

I am, my dear Lady,

Your ever affectionate servant.

CCCXXXVI. — To the Same.

MY DEAR LADY, NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE, May 6, 1766.

IT was well that I did not hear anything of a trial you lately had till it was past. You have great reason to bless God that this did not turn you out of the way. You might easily have inferred from it, that “all these people are alike;” and thence have given way to a thousand reasoning, which would have brought you into utter darkness: But it is plain you are not left to your own weakness. You have a strong Helper. The Lord stands on your right hand; therefore you are not moved. And I make no doubt but he will continue to help, till his arm brings you salvation. But, in the mean time, you have need of patience; and the more so, because you have a weak body. This, one may expect, will frequently press down the soul; especially till you are strong in faith. But how soon may that be, seeing it is the gift, yea, and the free gift, of God! Therefore, it is never far off. The word is nigh thee! “Only believe!” Look unto Jesus! Be thou saved!

Receive, out of his fulness, grace upon grace; mercy, and grace to keep mercy.

On the 24th instant I hope to be at Edinburgh, with my wife and daughter. But perhaps you will see the salvation of God, before you see, My dear Lady,

Your ever affectionate servant.

CCCXXXVII. — To the Same.

MY DEAR LADY, NORWICH, February 23, 1767.

FOR a considerable time, I was under apprehensions that you were in a state of temptation. And as I had no other way of helping you, this put me upon commending you the more frequently to Him that is able to save you. Your last, therefore, was doubly acceptable to me, as it relieved me from my fears concerning you, and gave me the occasion of rejoicing over one, for whom I have the most sincere and tender affection. Sure it is, that the grace of God is sufficient for you in this, and in every trying hour. So you have happily experienced it to be already; and so I trust you will experience to the end. But you must not imagine that you are yet out of the reach of temptation: Thoughts will be suggested again and again; so that you have still need to be

For ever standing on your guard,

And watching unto prayer.

And let my dear friend keep at the utmost distance from temptation, and carefully shun all occasions of evil. O it is a good though painful fight! You find you are not sent a warfare at your own cost. You have Him with you, who can have compassion on your infirmities; who remembers you are but dust; and who, at the same time, has all power in heaven and earth, and so is able to save you to the uttermost. Exercise, especially as the spring comes on, will be of greater service to your health than a hundred medicines; and I know not whether it will not be restored in a larger measure than for many years, when the peace of God fixes in your heart.

Is it far off? Do not think so. His ear is not heavy; he now hears the cry of your heart. And will he not answer? Why not today? Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly! Your openness obliges me to be more than ever, My dear Lady,

Your affectionate friend and servant.

CCCXXXVIII. — To the Same.

MY DEAR LADY, CORK, June 4, 1767.

MY belief is, that a journey to England might be of great service to your health. And it is not improbable, you might receive much benefit from the water of the Hot-Wells near Bristol. In August I hope to be at Bristol; and again in the latter end of September. My chaise and horses are at Bristol, which, you would oblige me much, if you would please to use as your own, (if you do not bring any with you,) during your stay there; for you should, if possible, ride out daily. My wife, who is at Newcastle, will be exceeding glad to wait upon you there. And if you choose to rest a few days, I should be happy if you would make use of the Orphan-House. You would be pleased with the Miss Dales, and they with you: You and they have drank into one Spirit. Miss Peggy is one of the holiest young women that I have any knowledge of: Indeed I think both the sisters have no desire, but to glorify God with their body and with their spirit. You will be so kind as to let me know when you expect to be at Newcastle; and possibly I may meet you there. As you were providentially called to the place where you now are, I cannot doubt but you will be preserved. But you have need of much prayer and continual watching, or you may insensibly lose what God has given. I am jealous over you: I cannot but be interested in whatever concerns you. I know your tender spirit; your desire to please all for their good; your unwillingness to give pain. And even these amiable dispositions may prove a snare; for how easily may they be carried too far! If you find anything hurts you, or draws your soul from God, I conjure you, flee for your life! In that case, you must not stand upon ceremony; you must escape without delay. But I hope better things: I hope you are sent to Brisbane, not to receive hurt, but to do good;

to grow in grace, to find a deeper communion than ever with Him that gave himself for you; and to fulfill the joy of,

My dear Lady,

Your most affectionate friend.

CCCXXXIX. — To the Same.

MY DEAR LADY, LONDON, March 3, 1769.

TO be incapable of sympathizing with the distressed is not a desirable state. Nor would one wish to extirpate either sorrow or any other of our natural passions. And yet it is both possible and highly desirable to attain the same experience with the Marquis de Renty, who, on occasion of his lady’s illness, told those who inquired how he could bear it, “I cannot say but my nature is deeply affected with the apprehension of so great a loss. And yet I feel such a full acquiescence in the will of God, that, were it proper, I could dance and sing.”

I have heard my mother say, “I have frequently been as fully assured that my father’s spirit was with me, as if I had seen him with my eyes.” But she did not explain herself any further. I have myself many times found on a sudden so lively an apprehension of a deceased friend, that I have sometimes turned about to look: At the same time I have felt an uncommon affection for them. But I never had anything of this kind with regard to any but those that died in faith. In dreams, I have had exceeding lively conversations with them; and I doubt not but they were then very near.

It gives me pleasure to hear, that you did not neglect our own preaching, in order to attend any other. The hearing Mr. F. at other times, I do not know that any could blame; unless you found it unsettled your mind, or weakened your expectation of an entire deliverance from sin. And this, I apprehend, it did not.

You never “take up too much of my time.” To converse with you, even in this imperfect way, is both agreeable and useful to me. I love your spirit,

and it does me good. I trust, God will still give you that hunger and thirst after righteousness, till you are satisfied therewith. And who knows how soon?

I am, my dear Lady,

Your ever affectionate servant.

CCCXL. — To the Same.

MY DEAR LADY, LONDONDERRY, April 29, 1769.

A WHILE ago I was concerned at hearing from Edinburgh, that you were unwell; although I could not doubt, but it was ordered well by an unerring Providence, as a means of keeping you dead to all below, and of quickening your affections to things above. And indeed this is the rule whereby the inhabitants of a better world judge of good and evil. Whatever raises the mind to God is good; and in the same proportion as it does this. Whatever draws the heart from its center is evil; and more or less so, as it has more or less of this effect. You have accordingly found pain, sickness, bodily weakness, to be real goods; as bringing you nearer and nearer to the fountain of all happiness and holiness. And yet, it is certain, nature shrinks from pain, and that without any blame. Only in the same moment that we say, “If it be possible, let this cup pass from me,” the heart should add, like our great Pattern, “Nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt.” Lady Baird I did not see before I left London; and Lady K. B. I did not understand. She was exceedingly civil, and I think affectionate; but perfectly shut up; so that I knew no more of her state of mind than if I had never seen her.

I am, my dear Lady,

Your ever affectionate servant.

CCCXLI. — To the Same.

MY DEAR LADY, LONDON, February 17, 1770.

TO us it may seem, that uninterrupted health would be a greater help to us than pain or sickness. But herein we certainly are mistaken: We are not such good judges in our own cause. You may truly say, “ Health I shall have, if health be best.” But in this and all things, you may trust Him that loves you. Indeed, nervous disorders are, of all others, as one observes, enemies to the joy of faith. But the essence of it, that confidence in a loving, pardoning Gods they can neither destroy nor impair. Nay, as they keep you dead to all below, they may forward you therein; and they may increase your earnestness after that pure love which turns earth into paradise.

It will be by much pains and patience that you will keep one in high life steadfast in the plain, old way. I should wish you to converse with her as frequently as possible. Then, I trust, God will use you to keep alive the fire which He has kindled. I am in great hopes that chapel will be of use; but it will not be easy to procure a converted Clergyman. A Schoolmaster will be more easily found; although many here are frighted at the name of Scotland. A diligent master may manage twenty or perhaps thirty children. If one whom I lately saw is willing to come, I believe he will answer your design.

I have some thoughts of going to America; but the way is not yet plain. I wait till Providence shall speak more clearly, on one side or the other. In April I hope to reach Inverness, and to take Edinburgh in my way back to England. But let us live today! What a blessing may you receive now! Now let your heart with love o’erflow,

And all your life his glory show!

I am, my dear Lady,

Your ever affectionate servant.

CCCXLII. — To the Same.

MY DEAR LADY, LONDON, January 24, 1771.

ALTHOUGH Mr. M’Nab 91 is quite clear as to justification by faith, and is in general a sound and good Preacher, yet I fear he is not clear of blame in this. He is too warm and impatient of contradiction; otherwise he must be lost to all common sense, to preach against final perseverance in Scotland. From the first hour that I entered the kingdom, it was a sacred rule with me, never to preach on any controverted point, — at least not in a controversial way. Any one may see, that this is only to put a sword into our enemies’ hands. It is the direct way to increase all their prejudices, and to make all our labors fruitless. You will shortly have a trial of another kind. Mr. De Courcy purposes to set out for Edinburgh in a few days. He was from a child a member of one of our societies in the south of Ireland. There he received remission of sins, and was for some time groaning for full redemption. But when he came to Dublin, the Philistines were upon him, and soon prevailed over him. Quickly he was convinced, that “there is no perfection;” and that “all things depend on absolute, unchangeable decrees.” At first he was exceedingly warm upon these heads: Now he is far more calm. His natural temper, I think, is good: He is open, friendly, and generous. He has also a good understanding, and is not unacquainted with learning, though not deeply versed therein. He has no disagreeable person, a pleasing address, and is a lively, as well as a sensible, Preacher. Now, when you add to this, that he is quite new, and very young, you may judge how he will be admired and caressed! “Surely such a Preacher as this never was in Edinburgh before! Mr. Whitefield himself was not to compare with him! What an angel of a man!” Now, how will a raw, inexperienced youth be able to encounter this? If there be not the greatest of miracles to preserve him, will it not turn his brain? And may he not then do far more hurt than either Mr. W—— or Mr. T—— did? Will he not prevent your friend from “going on to perfection,” or thinking of any such thing? Nay, may he not shake you also? He would; but that the God whom you serve is able to deliver you. At present, indeed, he is in an exceedingly loving spirit. But will that continue long? There will be danger on the one hand if it does; there will be danger on the other if it does not. It does not appear that any great change has been wrought in our neighbors

by Mr. Wh——’s death. He had fixed the prejudice so deep, that even he himself was not able to remove it; yet our congregations have increased exceedingly, and the work of God increases on every side. I am glad you use more exercise. It is good for both body and soul. As soon as Mr. De Courcy is come, I shall be glad to hear how the prospect opens. You will then need a larger share of the wisdom from above; and I trust you will write with all openness to,

My dear Lady,

Your ever affectionate servant.

CCCXLIII. — To the Same.

MY DEAR LADY, February 26, 1771.

I CANNOT but think the chief reason of the little good done by our Preachers at Edinburgh, is the opposition which has been made by the Ministers of Edinburgh, as well as by the false brethren from England. These steeled the hearts of thy people against all the good impressions which might otherwise have been made, so that the same Preachers by whom God has constantly wrought, not only in various parts of England, but likewise in the northern parts of Scotland, were in Edinburgh only not useless. They felt a damp upon their own spirits; they had not their usual liberty of speech; and the word they spoke seemed to rebound upon them, and not to sink into the hearts of the hearers. At my first coming I usually find something of this myself; but the second or third time of preaching, it is gone; and I feel, greater is He that is with us, than all the powers of earth and hell.

If any one could show you, by plain Scripture and reason, a more excellent way than that you have received, you certainly would do well to receive it; and, I trust, I should do the same. But I think it will not be easy for any one to show us, either that Christ did not die for all, or that he is not willing as well as able to cleanse from all sin, even in the present world. If your steady adherence to these great truths be termed bigotry, yet you have no need to be ashamed. You are reproached for Christ’s sake, and the Spirit of glory and of Christ shall rest upon you. Perhaps our Lord may use you to soften some of the harsh spirits, and to preserve Lady G——,

or Mr. De Courcy, from being hurt by them. I hope to hear from you (on whom I can depend) a frequent account of what is done near you. After you have suffered awhile, may God stablish, strengthen, settle you! I am, my dear Lady,

Your very affectionate servant.

CCCXLIV. — To the Same.

MY DEAR LADY, LONDON, February 8, 1772.

I COMMEND you for meddling with points of controversy as little as possible. It is abundantly easier to lose our love in that rough field, than to find truth. This consideration has made me exceedingly thankful to God for giving me a respite from polemical labors. I am glad he has given to others both the power and the will to answer them that trouble me; so that I may not always be forced to hold my weapons in one hand, while I am building with the other. I rejoice, likewise, not only in the abilities, but in the temper, of Mr. Fletcher. He writes as he lives: I cannot say that I know such another Clergyman in England or Ireland. He is all fire; but it is the fire of love. His writings, like his constant conversation, breathe nothing else, to those who read him with an impartial eye. And although Mr. Shirley scruples not to charge him with using subtlelty and metaphysical distinctions, yet he abundantly clears himself of this charge, in the “Second Check to Antinomianism.” Such the last letters are styled, and with great propriety; for such they have really been. They have given a considerable check to those, who were everywhere making void the law through faith; setting “the righteousness of Christ” in opposition to the law of Christ, and teaching that “without holiness any man may see the Lord.” Notwithstanding both outward and inward trials, I trust you are still on the borders of perfect love. For the Lord is nigh!

See the Lard thy Keeper stand

Omnipotently near!

Lo! he holds thee by thy hand,

And banishes thy fear!

You have no need of fear. Hope unto the end! Are not all things possible to him that believeth? Dare to believe! Seize a blessing now! The Lord increase your faith! In this prayer I know you join with, My dear Lady,

Your ever affectionate servant.

CCCXLV. — To the Same.

MY DEAR LADY, NEWCASTLE, May 3, 1777.

THE new chapel which we are now building in London requires much of my attendance there, so that I cannot conveniently be absent more than two Sundays together. Accordingly, when I set out, I fixed Saturday, the 19th instant, for my return; and ordered notice to be given of my design to meet the classes the week following. I cannot therefore have the pleasure of seeing you now; which, if it could be, I should greatly desire. I love your spirit; I love your conversation; I love your correspondence; I have often received both profit and pleasure thereby. I frequently find a want of more light: But I want heat more than light. And you have frequently been an instrument of conveying this to my soul; of animating me to run the glorious race. I trust you find no decay in your own soul, but a still increasing vigour. Some time since, you enjoyed a measure of that great salvation, deliverance from inbred sin. Do you hold fast whereunto you had attained, and still press forward, to be filled with all the fulness of God? There is the prize before you! Look up, believe, and take all you want!

Wishing you the whole Gospel blessing,

I remain, my dear Lady,

Your ever affectionate servant.

I hear sister Gow is gone hence. Did she go in triumph, or only in peace? CCCXLVI. — To the Same.

MY DEAR LADY, DUBLIN, July 4, 1787.

OUR correspondence, I hope, will never be broken off, till one of us be removed into a better world. It is true, I have often wondered that you were not weary of so useless a correspondent: For I am very sensible the writing of letters is my brother’s talent, rather than mine. Yet I really love to write to you, as I love to think of you. And sometimes it may please Him, who sends by whom He will send, to give you some assistance by me. And your letters have frequently been an encouragement and a comfort to me. Let them never, my dear friend, be intermitted, during the few days I have to stay below. After Miss Roe first, and then Miss Ritchie, had given me so particular an account of that branch of their experience, I examined, one by one, the members of the select society in London on that head. But I found very few, not above nine or ten, who had any conception of it. I think there are three or four in Dublin, who likewise speak clearly and scripturally of having had such a manifestation of the several Persons in the ever-blessed Trinity. Formerly I thought this was the experience of all those that were perfected in love; but I am now clearly convinced that it is not. Only a few of these are favored with it. It was indeed a wonderful instance of divine mercy, that, at a time when you were so encumbered with the affairs of this world, you should have so much larger a taste of the powers of the world to come. It reminds me of brother Laurence’s words: “When I was charged with the affairs of the convent at Burgundy, I did not understand them; and yet, I know not how, all was well done!” I doubt not you will find the very same experience, in everything which God calls you to: His word will be more and more eminently fulfillled, “In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct thy paths.” I rejoice to be,

My dear Lady,

Your ever affectionate servant.

CCCXLVII. — To the Same.

MY DEAR LADY, LONDON, August 8, 1788.

IT is certain, many persons both in Scotland and England would be well pleased to have the same Preachers always. But we cannot forsake the plan of acting which we have followed from the beginning. For fifty years God has been pleased to bless the itinerant plan; the last year most of all: It must not be altered, till I am removed; and I hope will remain till our Lord comes to reign upon earth.

I do not know (unless it unfits us for the duties of life) that we can have too great a sensibility of human pain. Methinks I should be afraid of losing any degree of this sensibility. I had a son-in-law (now in Abraham’s bosom) who quitted his profession, that of a Surgeon, for that very reason; because he said it made him less sensible of human pain. And I have known exceeding few persons who have carried this tenderness of spirit to excess. I recollect but one who was constrained to leave off, in a great measure, visiting the sick, because he could not see any one in pain without fainting away. Mr. Charles Perronet was the first person I was acquainted with who was favored with the same experience as the Marquis de Renty, with regard to the ever-blessed Trinity; Miss Ritchie was the second; Miss Roe (now Mrs. Rogers) the third. I have as yet found but a few instances; so that this is not, as I was at first apt to suppose, the common privilege of all that are “perfect in love.”

Pardon me, my dear friend, for my heart is tenderly concerned for you, if I mention one fear I have concerning you, lest, on conversing with some, you should be in any degree warped from Christian simplicity. O do not wish to hide that you are a Methodist! Surely it is best to appear just what you are. I believe you will receive this as a proof of the sincerity with which I am,

My dear Lady,

Your ever affectionate servant.