To Miss Cooke (Clarke).

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DCCCV. — To Miss Cooke, afterwards Mrs. Clarke.

MY DEAR SISTER, BRISTOL, September 24, 1785.

IT is highly probable my letter to you was intercepted by some person of the same name; who, having opened it, (likely by a mistake,) was afterwards ashamed to send it you. However, as you have now favored me with better information, I hope there will be no such mistake for the time to come. But I beg, when you write to me hereafter, do not write as to a stranger, but a friend. Be not afraid of me, because I have lived so much longer than you. I assume nothing upon that account; but wish to stand upon even ground with you, and to converse without either disguise or reserve. I love you all three, and not a little; especially since your sisters spoke so freely to me; yet I do not say in the same degree. There is a mildness and sweetness in your spirit, such as I wish to find in one that is more to me than a common friend. Not that I impute this to nature: Whatever is truly amiable is not of nature, but from a higher principle. Cultivate this, my dear friend, to the uttermost. Still learn of Him who was meek and lowly in heart. O what a blessing it is to be little, and mean, and vile in our own eyes! You are an amiable woman, it is true; but still you are a sinner, born to die! You are an immortal spirit come forth from God, and speedily returning to Him. You know well that one thing, and one thing only, is needful for you upon earth, — to ensure a better portion, to recover the favor and image of God. The former, by his grace, you have recovered; you have tasted of the love of God. See that you do not cast it away. See that you hold fast the beginning of your confidence steadfast unto the end! And how soon may you be made a partaker of sanctification! And not only by a slow and insensible growth in grace, but by the power of the Highest overshadowing you, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye so as utterly to abolish sin, and to renew you in his whole image! If you are simple of heart, if you are willing to receive the heavenly gift, as a little child, without reasoning, why may you not receive it now? He is nigh that sanctifieth; He is with you; He is knocking at the door of your heart!

Come in, my Lord, come in,

And seize her for thine own!

This is the wish of,

My dear friend,

Yours in tender affection.

DCCCVI. — To the Same.

LONDON, October 30, 1785.

MY dear Miss Cooke leans to the right hand error. It is safer to think too little than too much of yourself. I blame none for not believing he is in the favor of God, till He is in a manner constrained to believe it. But, laying all circumstances together, I can make no doubt of your having a measure of faith. Many years ago, when one was describing the glorious privilege of a believer, I cried out, “If this be so, I have no faith.” He replied, “Habes fidem, sed exiguam: ‘You have faith, but it is weak.’” The very same thing I say to you, my dear friend. You have faith, but it is only as a grain of mustard-seed. Hold fast what you have, and ask for what you want. There is an irreconcilable variability in the operations of the Holy Spirit on the souls of men; more especially as to the manner of justification. Many find Him rushing upon them like a torrent, while they experience The’ o’erwhelming power of saving grace.

This has been the experience of many; perhaps of more, in this late visitation, than in any other age since the times of the Apostles. But in others, He works in a very different way:

He deigns his influence to infuse,

Sweet, refreshing, as the violet dews.

It has pleased Him to work the latter way in you, from the beginning; and it is not improbable He will continue (as He has begun) to work in a gentle and almost imperceptible manner. Let Him take his own way: He is wiser

than you; He will do all things well. Do not reason against Him; but let the prayer of your heart be, —

“Mould as thou wilt thy passive day!”

I commit you and your dear sisters to His tender care; and am, My dear friend,

Most affectionately yours.

DCCCVII. — To the Same.

LONDON, December 14, 1780.

I LOVE to see the handwriting of my dear Miss Cooke, even before I open the letter. The thinking of you gives me very sensible pleasure, ever since you spoke so freely to me. There is a remedy for the evil of which you complain, — unprofitable reasonings; and I do not know whether there is any other. It is the peace of God. This will not only keep your heart, your affections, and passions, as a garrison keeps a city; but your mind likewise; all the workings and all the wanderings of your imagination. And this is promised: “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and you shall find.” Though it seem to tarry long,

True and faithful is His word.

A small measure of it you have frequently found; which may encourage you to look for the fullness. But if you were to give scope to your reasonings, there would be no end: The farther you went, the more you would be entangled; so true it is, that, to our weak apprehension, The ways of Heaven are dark and intricate,

Puzzled with mazes, and perplex’d with error.

But that peace will silence all our hard thoughts of God, and give us in patience to possess our souls. I believe, at the time that any first receive the peace of God, a degree of holy boldness is connected with it; and that all persons, when they are newly justified, are called to bear witness to the

truth. Those who use the grace which is then freely given to them of God will not only have the continuance of it, but a large increase; for “unto him that hath,” (that is, uses what he hath,) “shall be given, and he shall have more abundantly.” We shall grow in boldness the more, the more we use it; and it is by the same method, added to prayer, that we are to recover anything we have lost. Do what in you lies, and He will do the rest. My best service attends Mr. L., who I hope will be holier and happier by means of his late union. He certainly will, if Mrs. L. and he provoke one another to love and to good works. I do not despair of having the pleasure to wait on them at the Devizes. My best wishes wait likewise on Miss S. I hope you two are one. Indeed

I am, my dear Miss Cooke,

Yours in tender affection.

DCCCVIII. — To the Same.

BATH, September 9,1786.

IT gives me much satisfaction, my dear friend, to observe you are happier than when you wrote last. I do not doubt but you have at some times a rich foretaste of the state which your soul pants after. And even These wandering gleams of light,

And gentle ardors from above,

Have made you sit, like, seraph bright,

Some moments on a throne of love.

But you know you are not to rest here: This is but a drop out of the ocean. Only this has been known again and again, that one of those happy moments has been the prelude of pure love. It has opened into the full liberty of the children of God. Why knows but this may be your happy experience? — but the next time your soul is so caught up, He that loves you may touch your nature clean, and so take you into the holiest, that You may never leave the skies,

Never stoop to earth again.

I am now intent upon my own work, finishing the Life of Mr. Fletcher. This requires all the time I have to spare: So that, as far as it is possible, I must, for two or three months, shut myself up. Two weeks I give to Bristol: After that time, I return to London. I cannot, therefore, have the happiness of seeing Trowbridge this autumn. But might I not see you or your sisters at Bristol? If I am invisible to others, I would not be so to you. You may always command everything that is in the power of, My very dear friend,

Yours in life and in death.

DCCCIX. — To the Same.

MY DEAR SISTER AND FRIEND, LONDON, December 12, 1786.

ONCE or twice I have been a little out of order this autumn; but it was only for a day or two at a time. In general, my health has been better for these last ten years, than it ever was for ten years together since I was born. Ever since that good fever which I had in the north of Ireland, I have had, as it were, a new constitution. All my pains and aches have forsaken me, and I am a stranger even to weariness of any kind. This is the Lord’s doing, and it may well be marvellous in all our eyes. You oblige me much, (and so do your very dear sisters,) by being so solicitous about my health: I take it as a mark of your sincere affection. Meantime I wonder at you! I am almost ashamed that you should love me so well. It is plain how little you know me.

I am glad to find that the hunger and thirst after righteousness which God has given you does not abate. His providence cannot fail. You shall be filled, yea, satisfied therewith. But when you express it, not many will understand you, except Mrs. B., and our dear Betsy Johnson. However; do not fail to encourage all the believers about you, to press on to this mark. Some will gladly receive the word of exhortation; and surely a few witnesses will be raised up. I cannot tell you how much I am Yours.

DCCCX. — To the Same.

MACCLESFIELD, March 31, 1787.

NOW you give me a proof, my dear Miss Cooke, that you have not forgotten me. But considering that I am usually obliged to write in haste, I often doubt whether my correspondence is worth having.

When the witness and the fruit of the Spirit meet together, there can be no stronger proof that we are of God. But still you may relapse into doubts, if you do not steadily watch against evil reasonings; and were you to substitute the deductions of reason for the witness of the Spirit, you never would be established. That all trials are for good, you cannot always see, (at least for the present,) but you may always believe. You have doubtless reason to be thankful to God, that you feel love in your heart. Nay, indeed, thankfulness, gratitude, and love, for benefits received, are almost, if not quite, the same. Accordingly in this world, (whatever be the case in the next,) we love Him because he hath first loved us. This love is undoubtedly the spring of all inward and outward obedience. But we delight to do what He has commanded; and for that very reason, because He has commanded it. So,

Obedience is our pure delight,

To do the pleasure of our Lord.

I was a good deal refreshed with the company of you and your dear sisters, when we last met. The more so, because I trust you are all going forward in the good way. Peace be multiplied unto you!

My dear friend, adieu!

DCCCXI. — To the Same.

MY DEAR SISTER, LONDON, December 21,1787.

YOU have unspeakable reason to praise God for his late manifestations to you. And you will generally, observe, that large consolations are preceded by deep exercises of soul. And we all have reason to praise Him for the many tokens we see of his approaching kingdom. It is plain, Satan, the murderer and the deceiver of mankind, is in a great measure bound already: He is not now permitted to deceive the nations, as in the past ages. And even in the Romish countries scarce my are now called to resist unto blood. If two or three of you continue instant in prayer, the work will revive at Trowbridge also. When you are met together; boldly lay hold on the promise: His word will speak, and will not lie. Peace be with all your spirits!

I am, my dear sister,

Yours most affectionately.

DCCCXII. — To the Same.

MY DEAR SISTER, DUMFRIES, June 1, 1790.

THE great question is, What can be done for Adam Clarke? Now, will you save his life? Look round; consider if there be any circuit where he can have much rest, and little work; or shall he and you spend September in my rooms at Kingswood, on condition that he shall preach but twice a week, and ride to the Hot Wells everyday? I think he must do this, or die; and I do not want him (neither do you) to run away from us in haste. You need not be told that this will be attended with some expense: If it be, we can make it easy. I am apt to think this will be the best way. In the mean time, let him do as much as he can, and no more. It is probable I shall stay with you a little longer, as my strength does not much decline. I traveled yesterday nearly eighty miles, and preached in the evening without any pain. The Lord does what pleases Him. Peace be with all your spirits! I am, my dear sister,

Yours most affectionately.