PART I. (continued 2)

Yours, truly, J. C.

LETTER XIII.

“Thence will I command the serpent, and he shall bite them.”

TO THE SAME.

I have intimated my partiality to village preaching; I had my heart’s desire in this instance, but I got leanness in my soul; my home was too much deserted, and the souls of my new flock neglected; my study forsaken; my vanity fed; and though poor as a church mouse, I was as proud as the devil: this did not appear in my general deportment, but wise men saw it. A very elegant suit of canonical robes were made a present to me, and in these, I had the vanity to strut through the town on Sunday, three times a day, to the chapel, admired by those who were as vain as myself. Oh! what folly and vanity I see in these things now; but, I wanted to look as much like the church as I could; and what for, but merely to escape persecution, and that the offence of the cross might cease. Flying from persecution, I met with ten thousand times worse disgrace, and my case was a little like those persons of whom the Prophet speaks; Amos, iii. 19—“I fled from a lion and a bear met me, I went into the house, and leaned on the wall, and a serpent bit me.” About the month of March, 1808, I thought of the kindness of an old and mutual friend, Mr. Alexander, who was a deacon of Mr. G’s.; I sent him a letter, and begged to hear from him; the consequence of this was, a letter came from Mr. G. in friendly terms, to which I gave as friendly an answer. A proposition was soon sent down, to exchange pulpits with Mr. G. for a month; and, as I longed to get to town, I was glad of the opportunity. Some of the friends at B— had seen a book of Mr. G’s.; and they, being much pleased with it, consented to my going to town. I came, and preached on Good Friday, and the following Sunday the chapel was thronged. I became much known and beloved. I had many pressing invitations to stay in town, and have since regretted I did not accept them; but, my heart felt for the flock left behind me; many letters passed to and fro between myself and friends, especially those who had advised me not to have any thing to do with Mr. G. nor to preach for him in town; I did not know who were his friends or his enemies, till they came about me like bees, and laid many things to his change. When I found this, I felt more anxious to return, and wrote to these very professed friends accordingly, stating that I was sorry I had not taken their advice. These friends, during my absence, had been in company with Mr. G. and had altered their minds; of course, made Mr. G. acquainted with the contents of my letters. Mr. G. let no opportunity slip of speaking disrespectfully of me. I however returned, and found, to my surprise, some of the most respectable of the congregation would not speak to me; this hurt my feelings not a little, but the poor of the flock still cleaved to me. My visit in London did me much good, and the hand of the Lord was in it. I felt, however, determined to abide in this place; till the Lord turned me out; for, I having so little native wisdom, prudence, or foresight, I knew not what to wish or do for the best. I once more visited my villages, Bodicott, Kingham, Hook, Nortan, Middleton, Cheny, Chalcomb, Sulgrave, and many other places. In the month of June, I received a pressing invitation to Birmingham, Warwick, Bedworth, and Coventry, which I could not accept till my wife, who was near her time, was delivered; as that was a time I perpetually dreaded, so I could not, would not leave home. But, on the 8th of July, 1808, it being our lecture night, my wife was taken bad, and safely delivered of a daughter: my mind had been uneasy all the day, nor could I find a text in the whole Bible, to preach on in the evening; I was obligated to go to chapel without one, and after prayer could find no other text than this one word—“Farewell.” On this I preached for some time. Many thought, after my departure, that I never intended to return, from the singularity of my text; but, I fully intended it, nor had I the least idea of leaving them, only for a fortnight, to visit the places to which I had been invited: I proposed returning, but the Lord did not intend I should. The next evening I preached at a village, on “These are they that came through much tribulation.” I conversed freely, on divine subjects, with my friends, and was particularly happy in soul, as, in fact, I had been from the time I left town; yet I never dreamed of the storm at hand; but this I have known, often before a storm I have found an universal stillness; and, at times, great spirituality, nearness to God, and a brightening up of every evidence. I mention this to the honour of God’s grace, which has been so often experienced by me. The next morning I took leave of my family, to go my journey, and just as I was going out, a letter was brought to me, from a person, containing some very distressing charges. I had not time to stay to clear that matter up, as I had no means of sending to the places to which I was going, to contradict, or rather postpone my visit. I left it in the hands of a person I supposed my friend, till I returned to the town; but to that town I never did return. I went on my journey with a heavy heart, and the most dreadful and inconceivable anguish of spirit. The Lord enabled me to preach that evening at Kineton, and, the next day I walked ten miles further—arrived at Warwick, and preached there on Friday evening. Ah! little did the crowded congregation think what I felt. The next day I went further, and preached at Bedworth on Sunday three times; one of which was a charity sermon for a school. On Monday I arrived at Coventry; on Tuesday I travelled on to Birmingham, where I was kindly received; I preached there on the Tuesday, Thursday, and the following Sunday. While in the pulpit I was in some measure happy; but, when in company, I was wretched: solitude suited my distressed heart. I was invited to Wolverhampton, Bilston, and Briarley-hill, and so on. All these places I visited, and the word was well received; but, oh, my sorrows! I cannot paint them. I continued at Birmingham a month, or nearly so; the amiable, kind, and spiritual people I was with, saw my distress, and being invited far into the country, I felt resolved to go. But just as I made up my mind for the journey, I received a pressing invitation to London; a chapel having been provided for me, if I would come; with which I complied immediately. During the time I was at Birmingham many letters passed between myself and the managers at B—. The deacons intreated my return upon certain conditions, to which I consented; but the trustees objected to it: it was amidst this pro and con that I received this letter to come to London. My most invaluable friend in Birmingham, at whose house I was, appointed a place to meet my accusers, in company with a godly minister, and some others. We met at a place called Chapel-house, near Chipping Norton, in Oxfordshire, and in some measure gained a satisfaction. I returned to Birmingham, preached that night, and on the Sunday following; took my leave on Tuesday, and proceeded to London on Wednesday. The meeting in the Borough was opened for me, and crowds soon attended. My family came to town, and all my debts were paid in B— shortly after. I was much grieved for the cause in B—, as there are many pious persons there, who love the truth. Peace be with them all. Mr. G. now received an invitation to the place, but his time was but a few weeks there. The Lord often deals in a way of retaliation, even with his own people; but, I forbear. I was no sooner settled at Chapel-court, but I had frequent invitations to other places: the congregation was unsettled at Grub-street: here I preached several times, for each party. If persons fall out it is nothing to me; I have but one subject, Christ; and if that will not unite parties, nothing will. The people behaved very kind to me; and if I could have given them satisfaction, on a certain point, no doubt I should have settled among them: but I shrunk from investigation, because I was conscious of having acted imprudently—and, as I knew: I could not be comfortable among them, nor be much credit to them, I silently evaded them all, and left my case with the great Head of the Church, who had pardoned my soul, but told me—from henceforth thou shalt have wars.—While I thus preached for them, they all acted very kind to me, especially a Mrs. Mc. I shall meet some of them in glory, although prejudice will not let them even speak to me on earth. This reflection as pleasant and painful, but I justify them in it. No man upon earth so prone as I am to idolize the creature, or to lean on his puny arm; this, this is the cause of the long contention, and all my disgrace, grief, and woe. No one could look upon my trials, but most ask—is there not a cause?

I continued at Chapel-court for some months, and preached at other places; also Bunhill-row, Glass-house Yard, and you can well remember the Lord’s-day at Waltham Abbey. I preached at Westminster, and near Leicester-square. My enemies were busy, but all of no avail: the Lord still led me on, though not without some trials. In this year I was called to endure a new affliction, the loss of a darling daughter, about five or six years of age: these were feelings the most painful, but can never be described. Having no relations in the world, I knew not what it was to lose them by death, and having so little fortitude, I was almost inconsolable. My feelings, when seeing her depart, were such as I had been a stranger to before then. I had seen saint and sinner depart, and had long wept with those that wept, but now it was personal. I had preached at a friend’s house, at Camberwell, occasionally; and the evening before her death, my mind was forcibly struck with, and I preached from, Psalm cxxvi. last verse. When I concluded, and on my road home, it appeared to me as if the text was like leaven working in my mind; it was applied to me. The Lord knew what I should feel that night, and the next day I found my dear girl worse. The nurse called me about half-past three; it was not quite light, the eastern sky became enlightened; a solemn stillness pervaded all nature; I stood by her bed-side, and saw her breathe her last. I trust the morning of her better, her eternal day begun. Happy Mary, that thy Lord called thee home so soon! and never, whilst memory holds her seat, shall I forget thy little voice, the day of thy departure—“Mary will die, and go to see the Lord.” But this is my hope; I close these remarks on my dear girl.—

That same evening I was obliged to preach; and no other text could I get but this—“He has done all things well.” May I not say so now? Another calamity came soon after: a young woman, who had lived with us at B—, as a companion to my wife, and who was exceedingly kind to her in my troubles there, had a desire to see London, and spend some time with us. We sent for her, and she continued for about two months. She seemed to be pious, and to understand the gospel. She was suddenly taken ill; the faculty did not exactly understand the nature of her complaint, and although she was poorly, she expressed a desire to hear me as long as she could, and to go to the ordinance of the Lord’s Supper. She came, but was so ill she could not attend to any thing. She grew worse, and her head was dreadfully affected. She at times became raving mad; but at one time she was very sensible; and while she slept, as we all thought, my wife, myself, and some other friends, were talking about the things of God, she spoke very sensibly and slowly, and suddenly uttered, “O what a mercy to be beloved of Jesus!” I was just going to enter into conversation with her; but she grew worse, and shortly after slept in Jesus. Glad would her dear parents have been, had they attended her; but they were near 100 miles off. Yet we got her, perhaps, much better attendance than she could have had at home. On account of the distance from the family, with much regret we deposited her remains in the burial-ground of Tottenham-Court Road, but in hopes of a blissful resurrection; and this blessing is sure to all who are quickened by the gracious in-dwelling of the Holy Spirit. As it is written, Rom. viii. “But if the Spirit of Him who raised up Jesus from the dead, dwell in you, He that raised up Christ from the dead, shall also quicken your mortal bodies, by His Spirit, that dwelleth in you.”—Grace and peace be with you.

I remain, yours, J. C.

LETTER XIV.

“Yet thou, O Lord, art in the midst of us.”

To —

I have often admired the gracious conduct of Divine Providence in bringing me acquainted with your family: I have found you faithful in gospel bonds, faithful in reproving, admonishing, instructing, and praying for me. You was well acquainted with the cause of my leaving Chapel-court Meeting, as I could not get it as my own. I prayed to have a place of my own, if it was an old barn; but, no doubt, this is another proof of my pride. I have seen the sorrows of real good men, who have been turned out of their situations, and reduced to abject poverty, merely to please some bashaw deacon, or conceited trustee; and as I did not like to wear a muzzle, I chose to get a humble place of my own. Your friendship in exerting yourself for my good, and the accommodation of the people, well succeeded, and our wishes were accomplished. A place was to let, near the obelisk, which would contain 800 people: but, alas! we had no seats, or pulpit. I opened it, just as it was, with a temporary stage, on which I stood. The place was crowded; I was enabled to preach in the afternoon on “He brought me to his banqueting house, and his banner over me was love:” and in the evening, “I beseech thee shew me thy glory.” I continued at Chapel-court some parts of the week, and Sundays, till the Obelisk Chapel was quite ready; when I gave up the former entirely, and occupied the latter. Many a blessed season we experienced there, and the Lord confirmed the Word with signs following. With pleasure you saw this, and fondly hoped to have seen a regular church formed, upon the Baptist order; but, perhaps, I have been culpably negligent upon that subject. However, your desire was in a great measure fulfilled: the presence of the Lord filled the place, the Word ran, and Christ and free-grace was glorified. Many remember the spot with pleasure, and others have gone from thence to glory. I need not apologise for reminding you of your remarkable dream on Ezra, vii. 27, 28, “Blessed be the Lord God of our fathers, which hath put such a thing into the king’s heart, to beautify the house of the Lord, which is at Jerusalem.” And I was strengthened, as the hand of the Lord was upon me. The Lord be with you, while I remain,

Yours, in Him, J. C.

LETTER XV.

“Son of Man, shew the house to the house of Israel.”

To —

After I had been with the present congregation for some time, I thought it expedient to endeavour to bring the church into some form, and gospel order, upon the Baptist plan; but this I found a very difficult task. The majority of hearers, were averse to the ordinances of believer’s baptism, not one of the managers did see into the nature and design of the ordinance; yet I was enabled to preach frequently on the subject, and many were soon after convinced it was their duty and privilege to submit to baptism, as well as attend the Lord’s Supper. Some, who saw more clearly into it, waited till they were baptized, before they sat down to the Supper, knowing this was the most scriptural plan: others, who had been baptized previous to their hearing with us, desired to unite with us, but did not choose to do that till the church was more regularly formed. And now, having a convenient place for that purpose, many came forward to be baptized; the day was appointed, and eighteen came, who I had good reason to believe were called by grace. I preached my sermon at Horselydown, from this question of our dear Lord—“The baptism of John, was it from heaven, or of men?” I found liberty and freedom in a scriptural statement of the nature and design of believers’ baptism. I had nothing new to advance, but what many men of God had observed on that subject, and endeavoured to back every argument with scripture proof. The evening arrived, and the candidates met; I conversed once more with them all, separately, in the vestry. A good man preached the sermon, and fully confirmed what I had previously advanced. At the close of the sermon, I gave a short address at the water. After prayer and singing, I descended into the baptistry, for the first time, with trembling steps, yet dependent on the faithfulness of the Great Head of the Church, to his own promise—“Lo! I am with you always.” I then led each into the water, myself, and spoke something suited to the case of every one, as we went into the water together. I considered it most scriptural to go down with the candidates, which had a very pleasing effect upon the spectators, gave great encouragement to the candidate, and diversified the solemn scene. This was the plan of the Rev. Mr. Burnham, which I always adopted. In two month’s time, about thirty-five more came forward; and for the first four or five succeeding years, I had the honour to baptise upwards of fifty persons. At one time I had forty-eight, which was very fatiguing to me. After I had left Horselydown, we went to baptise at Worship-street. This only occurred once, and there were near forty persons at that time. Soon after the Lord raised me up a place of my own, and we built an excellent baptistry there, in which many have been baptised, some of whom are now in glory, many are growing in grace, and continue amongst us, while others are gone to other places, that other ministers might fill up their cup of consolation. I have heard but of very few that have gone back into the world, and they are not out of the reach of mercy, unless any of them have sinned “the sin unto death.” But, notwithstanding so many were baptised, I had not power to form the church after the particular Baptist plan, but was obligated to admit those of God’s dear children, who could not yet see it right to be baptized. As these persons gave every evidence that they belonged to God, I saw no impropriety in sitting down with such at the Lord’s table. I am well aware that it was not so in the apostolic age; then, the church was of one heart, and one soul, but it is not so now, in external matters; and as the Saviour admits them to communion with himself, I see no reason why we should exclude them, because they do not see exactly with us into this ordinance: I wish all the church throughout the world did see it exactly as the scriptures have laid it down; but that they will not do, till the Holy Spirit is again poured out in the latter-day glory, of which happy time the apostolic age was a prelude. There was a period when I did not see the order of the church to be of that importance I now do. My whole attention, out of the pulpit, was to manage that business as well as I could, assisted by men of faith, prayer, and wisdom. We have since formed the church, the articles of which are printed in the first volume of the “Voice of Faith.” The Lord keeps us walking in his own appointed way, adorning the doctrine of God our Saviour in all things.

Yours, J. C.

LETTER XVI.

“Arise and thresh, O daughter of Zion.”

To —

As through grace you have been an eye and ear witness to the Lord’s dealings with me, and to the testimony which he has borne to the word of his grace (however weak the instrument) in town, so you have heard of some success I have had in the country. Various have been my journies, and scarcely have I ever heard of one in vain. Soon alter the death of my dear girl, I was invited to take a journey to Sheerness. When I arrived, some who had heard me preach in town, and others who had beard of me, came to solicit me to preach in that place. The minister was requested the use of his pulpit, but he denied it at first, which threw a general damp upon them all. However, I was impressed that the Lord had intended me to preach there, and when I got alone, I begged of the Lord to shew me his mind, which he did in his Word, by this text, which I opened upon—“I will give thee the opening of the mouth unto them.” When my friends assembled around me again, each giving their various opinions, I told them I should surely preach to them. The next day I wrote a polite note to the minister myself, and in the evening he as politely came to invite me. The Lord opened my mouth, and the dew descended on the barn floor. This was an enlivening and a quickening time. Many, and especially the Baptists, were stirred up, and shortly built a small place for themselves, in which I shortly after preached. I believe a church is since formed in the place, and godly Baptist ministers supply it. The Lord also opened the meeting at Strood, and enabled me to proclaim the unsearchable riches of Christ to the joy of some good old-established Christians, who had long sat under the truth, and were blessed with that charity that rejoiceth not in error, but rejoiceth in the truth. Many remember those visits, and although I shall never see them more in this world, yet I trust that truth that has made us free will bring us home to the enjoyment of the God of truth. In the year 1811, I opened a Monday-evening lecture at Horselydown, and another at the Welsh meeting at Lambeth, where I continued some years, till Providence altered the circumstances of these places; also at Little Providence Chapel, in Holborn, where the Lord met many precious souls, and highly honoured me, to bring in some of his people: as it is written, Isaiah lxvi. “And they shall bring in your brethren for an offering unto the Lord, out of all nations, upon horses and in chariots, and in litters, and upon mules, and upon swift beasts, to my holy mountain, saith the Lord.”

Yours, J. C.

P.S. I was very partial to travelling from place to place, but the Lord has cured me of that roving fit, and I have scarcely a desire left me of ever leaving my own place: for, sometimes it is found true what Solomon says—“As a bird that leaveth his nest, so is a man that wandereth from his place.”

LETTER XVII.

“The Lord is my helper and my deliverer.”

To —

There are some few periods in our lives when we may be said to sit still and be at ease; but there are other times we could particularly mention, when trouble abounds—as Job expresses it, “Thou breakest me with breach upon breach;” or, as David says, “Deep calleth unto deep, but the Lord will command his loving kindness in the day-time.” This was my experience from the 1st of January, 1813, to the 12th of July. No sooner had the year commenced, but having occasion to pass through Blackfriars-road, I saw in the shop-window of a printer and bookseller, an infamous and daringly-printed paper, including the fac-simile of a letter said to have been written by me to an awful character; in which I had included a guinea, to assist him. This piece of effrontery hurt my mind, but I was enabled to bear it, and preached a sermon the same evening, on “They shall call his name Emanuel, God with us.” The above letters were bought by hundreds, friends and foes: I took no notice of it, and presently came out many editions, with great additions. Soon after this every corner of the streets and every lamp-post had a placard posted, with these elegant words, in capital letters, “JOHN CHURCH, INCARNATE DEVIL,” and these were interlined with many awful scriptures, against uncleanness of every description; [86] but this failing of its intended plan, to rouse public indignation, another method was resorted to. Some pretendedly pious young men were employed to read these papers, with an audible voice, at the Obelisk, on Sunday mornings, as the Congregation were coming to chapel; this was going out into the highways, indeed, and gathering as they could, some good and some bad—the effect was, many disputes amongst them. The public-houses were filled; and, for several Lord’s-days a vast mob assembled around the door, but peaceably, and all was peace within. I continued my labours’ six times a week; yet not without much inward grief. Some warm but indiscreet friends were determined to apprehend the first that made any disturbance, and no one seemed very forward to do that, except one young man, who was observed to frequent the mob: he was taken to the watch-house by order of the managers of the chapel, who charged him with a breach of the peace, but when he was brought before a magistrate, who was no friend of mine, he complained of my conduct to his brother, twelve years before that period. I was of course sent for, and went without any warrant being issued out against me. I made my appearance, and a very worthy magistrate bound it over for trial, at the Middlesex sessions, alledging it would give greater public satisfaction. All things were now peaceable till July 12. The time came on, and the trial took place, at which I was honourably acquitted. The chairman who tried the cause declared he never witnessed so malignant a prosecution before. We had peace once more in our borders, and prosperity in our palaces. I then explained the former case mentioned in this letter, concerning the infamous person to whom I had acted as a benefactor. The case was this: in the month of September, 1812, a person called on me. Mrs. C. who was blessed with a astonishing gift of discernment of character, came to my study, and said a person below wanted to see me—“but,” she added, “I don’t much admire his looks.” However, I came down, and she listened at the nearest window, anxious to know his business. He accosted me with “Sir, you don’t know me, but I have been unfortunately in prison a long time. I was formerly in the public line, and wish to go in it again. Many have helped me, and I hope you will take it into consideration also.” I told him if he would leave his address, I would certainly pay some attention to it, but could not stay then. In a few days time I went to the house he had directed me, and found, as far as I could see, every thing respectable; and an old gentleman assured me that the case was a very distressing one, and that the poor man was then in the spunging-house, put in that day by his brewer. This had all the appearance of truth; I felt for his situation; and the next day wrote the letter which was afterwards handled against me. But I believe it was nothing else but envy on the part of my opponent, who had borne a name so many years for his alms-giving, as though nobody could give an alms but himself. Not all the world can persuade me that the opposition made to me was from any other motive. Although zeal for the moral law was the plea, yet, that very person always acted contrary to the law, in every such act of opposition. But to return, the above ungrateful wretch had no sooner received my donation, than he sent a woman, purporting to be his wife, to solicit more money. Mrs. C. gave her an answer, assuring her that I had contributed generously to his wants, and could do no more for him, or for any one else, yet:—but the woman, not contented with that answer, replied, in an insulting manner, “Well, if Mr. C. does not choose to do it, he shall repent it as long as he lives; for I’ll go to Mr. D— directly, and tell him what I know will please him, against Mr. C.” The Doctor not being returned to town, the woman waited till he did, and then visited him, well knowing the above gentleman would jump for joy, if he could find out any thing amiss in my conduct, so as to fix the name of Antinomian in reality. Report says, he visited this infamous character in prison, and gave him two guineas for the letter. Many others of the holy contenders for the moral law, paid him a visit, and gave him money likewise, so that he made his boast he had but one guinea from me, but he got near forty guineas out of the Doctor and his people. The letter was soon engraved, at the Doctor’s expense, and thousands of them printed and sent into the world. And what harm did this do me? but send crowds to hear me preach, who filled the chapel so much, that we were obliged to look out for a much larger place. The infamy of this notorious character being so fully known, his palpable falsehoods respecting my visiting his infamous house, were discredited by any reasonable being; and as his testimony would not be taken in a court of justice, there was no reason why it should be taken in the courts of the Lord’s house. I relieved him from the purest motives of benevolence, as I have many hundreds beside, who are living witnesses of it. I acknowledge I have not been so discriminating in my acts of beneficence as I ought to have been: but I could never bear to send away empty from my door the petitioner for relief, whether good or bad, if I could relieve them, remembering, the advice and example of our Divine Lord, Acts xx. 35. And as to impositions, those who are kind to the poor must always expect it, both in the church and in the world. And if the most knowing of the benevolent are so often duped, you cannot wonder at my meeting with such characters; for it is a well-known truth, that if there is a flat in the world, a sharper will find him out: and, supposing my holy enemies to have acted from the very best motives, it their searching out my supposed faults, in doing so have they acted agreeable to the holy law of God, or to any of the precepts of the New Testament? I believe not. If it was criminal in my relieving a bad character with one guinea, [90] was it not more criminal in my persecutors to relieve him with forty guineas; or to put themselves to the vast expense of supplying whole columns of trash, pregnant with falsehoods, for the “Weekly Dispatch.” But you know this sort of conduct is pretended zeal for that very law that curses them for their hypocrisy.—Farewell.

LETTER XVIII.

“He hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.”

To —

It would fill no small volume to relate the particulars of the bustle which took place in the above affair. The zeal, vigilance, activity and expense which so many put themselves to was really laughable. The above Doctor and his understrappers were all upon the alert, all the filth, lies, and rubbish that could be collected together, were brought him; these he put in order, fled to the printer with, and which were soon exposed for sale, no doubt for the benefit of the poor (to add to charity’s fame). This being calculated to disturb the peace, the printer was bound to keep the peace, by one of the magistrates, which put an end to the sale of this rubbish. But the Doctor had recourse to another expedient; he crossed the water to an awful enemy to all spiritual religion, and furnished him with plenty of the same rubbish for a Sunday Newspaper. I saw him enter the above shop myself, and I then told many persons we should have another budget of lies out next Sunday. Nor was I mistaken. This holy advocate for the suppression of vice, and keeping the Sabbath holy, now gave plenty of matter for the encouragement of vice, and the profanation of that day. Public-houses were again well stored, [91] to read about the infamous J. C.—Jews and Infidels, professed Christians, and profound Deists. There were “Parthians, Medes and Elamites, dwellers in Messopotamia, Egyptians and strangers,” all in a bustle. Some running one way, some another; one post ran to meet another, as if the city had been taken at both ends. Every one who had a little hope of interest picked up a stone, wrote a letter to his Holiness, or ran with some account of some bad action, some love letter I had written, some bad house I had visited—though as false as God was true. Yet this was credited, and swallowed down wholesale. Vast crowds assembled round the chapel on Sunday nights, so that the congregation had to pass through them as the Israelites through the Red Sea; but not a dog moved his tongue at them. Printing scurrillity was kept on weekly, till the public got tired of the old story over and over again. Nor were some of my well-wishers idle; some, in warmth, retaliated; others, more prudently, wrote mildly, and remonstrated in a scriptural manner with the Doctor, by word and writing. Some exercised their pens in satire and poetical effusions. Some of the copies of these I have still by me, and would present them to you, but they would take up too much room. And what good did all this do? None, but hurt the rising generation, and exposed the cause of God to ridicule. On the part of those adversaries who are zealous for the moral law, as their rule of life, surely they acted contrary to every law, to the ten commandments, the Judaical law of Moses, the gospel in every doctrine, and in every precept; the laws of wisdom, love, and kindness, and the excellent laws of our country. But I forgive them; and the only apology I can make for them is, that they did it with a good intent, and out of love to my soul; this was equally as loving to me, as the Hibernian woman to her husband, who being condemned to be hung clung round her dearest dear, reminded him how much she loved him, and said, as a proof of it, she came that morning to hang him herself, as she might as well have the money for it as any body else.—This was love indeed.—Farewell.

Yours, J. C.

P.S. Many wondered that I did not punish the weekly scribblers, but no; I am forbid I Corinth, vi. 1. And if I had a mind for it, they kept out of the way, either by the rules of the Fleet or the Bench—and what is the use of pursuing a flea? as David said to Saul—1 Sam. xxiv. 14.

LETTER XIX.

“We know that all things work together for good, to those that love God.”

To —

As the congregation was so much increased, from the late rumours, and conclusion of the trial, the place where we had long worshipped, was deemed unsafe to contain so large a body of people; it was therefore proposed to build a more convenient place, near the old spot: but the chief part of the neighbourhood being City ground, we could not obtain any other place than the vacant spot on which the chapel now stands: this was taken of the City, and on Monday the 13th of July, the day twelvemonth the trial was terminated in my favour, I laid the foundation-stone of the new chapel, in presence of many spectators. When I had concluded the service, we assembled the same evening at the old chapel, where I preached on Gen. xxviii. “And this stone which I have set shall be God’s house.” That evening, small as the congregation was, compared with others, we collected fifty pounds. The building was begun, and in ten weeks it was finished; but during that time my faith was continually upon the watch tower. And the hand of God was most evidently in the business; timber was scarcely ever known to be at such a price, yet the Lord sent me money with which to pay the men their wages, and to find many materials beside—this was at the rate of twenty-five pounds a week. Where the money came from I know not, but, to my surprise, it came. The Lord called me to his throne, and in gracious answers the money was sent. On the first Sunday in October, 1813, I took my leave of the old place, where I spent many happy hours; and if David remembered Hermon, and the little hill Mizar, the old Obelisk chapel will be dear to many a soul while life and being last. I preached in the morning on the language of Moses to Jethro—“We are journeying to the place of which the Lord said, I will give it thee, come thou with us, we will surely do thee good.” In the afternoon I endeavoured to remind my hearers of that suitable promise in every case of the Lord’s people—“And behold I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest; and I will not leave thee until I have done all the good which I promised unto thee.” In the evening I again addressed the congregation, from the language of Moses—“Let thy presence go with us.” After the evening sermon, we had the ordinance of the Lord’s Supper. The evening was solemn, and we concluded with thanksgiving for the many happy hours we had spent in the place, and intreated the Lord to go with us the next day, and abide with us all our days. We left the old spot with some reluctance, and the next morning I opened the new meeting. I preached from Exodus xxv. 8—“And let them make me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them:” this sermon is now in print. And in the evening to a very crowded congregation, from John xvii—“And I have declared thy name, and will declare it, that the love wherewith thou hast loved me, may be in them, and thou in them.” The bustle of the day had impaired my mind, but I was helped through it, and the collection amounted to upwards of fifty pounds for that day, which I considered to be very great. Some very excellent singers volunteered their kind services, and at the close of the service favoured us with some very beautiful anthems from Handel. The place was always well attended, but the building of the chapel involved me in several heavy debts, many of which I paid out of the produce of the chapel, and others I borrowed money to pay them with, so that I paid all the tradesmen comfortably to my own mind; but the borrowed money laid as a dead weight on my spirits, and created me many anxieties. This gave fresh exercise to prayer and faith, and an opportunity of watching the hand of God. Soon after the building was completed, my subscriptions stopped, and of course all the heavy debt laid on me. As I was determined no one should be hurt by me, I became responsible for every thing; and having collected by subscription, about seven hundred pounds, I found I was nearly ten hundred pounds in debt—three hundred I paid in about eighteen months, and the rest I paid interest for the use of, till the whole was cleared off. And as I had the money given me, I built the place and paid for it, of course it is my own property; but I have since seen it necessary to choose trustees, by way of executors to my will, that the place should be always appropriated to the preaching of the gospel: this was to secure it from any who should claim it, and in future time convert it into any thing else: as I had known some preachers who had chapels of their own, after they had made a fortune in them, sell them to brokers, and other persons, laying an injunction on them never to let them again have the gospel preached in them. This is most base, and cruel, beyond all expression; and what an awful state must their consciences be in, to act in so base a manner. The Lord was with me, in this place also, till another calamity befel me: but this I know, every occurrence is divinely appointed, by infinite wisdom, and will terminate in the glory of God, and the prosperity of the soul—For he worketh all things after the counsel of his own will.

Yours truly, J. C.

LETTER XX.

“So I spake unto the people in the morning, and at even my wife died.”—Ezek. xxiv. 18.

To —

Death is solemn at all times, to thinking minds; and though sin has made him an enemy to our natures, grace has made him a friend to our souls: but he has no acquaintances, nor has he respect for any; he comes in without apologies, and cuts down all alike, the man of years, the innocent babe, the crowned head, the mitred prelate, the humble scavenger, and the poorest beggar: nor does he spare the dearest relative, or the most affectionate friend—yet, it is the consolation of the Lord’s people, that though all must bow to his stroke, they are dear to the Saviour, they are precious to him; hence he calls them the precious sons of Zion, and since thou hast been precious in my sight, I have loved thee. God has declared their blood, that it their lives, is precious in his sight.—Psalm lxxii. And in another Psalm (cxvi.) declares their very death is precious. God has declared, he has no pleasure in the death of the wicked, no more than he has in their persons or their lives; yet grace has made a difference between those who love God, and those who do not; and as the Lord Jesus Christ has been to precious to them, in a time state, as an evidence they are precious to him, he has graciously designed death to be only their removal from sin and sorrow, to heaven, happiness, and God. Death is therefore a gift, freely bestowed on the Lord’s people, and in general a welcome friend, whose mission is only to usher the elect, redeemed, regenerated soul into glory; and though many such have been all their life-time in bondage, through the fear of death, yet, that same Almighty power that made them willing to be saved in God’s own way, makes them willing to leave all behind, and to enter into a world of spirits, to be for ever with the Lord; and not only willing, but sometimes longing, to be gone to that rest the Lord has provided for his covenant people. The faith that God has given them is sometimes indulged with sweet views of their inheritance, and they cast many a wishful eye to that land of delights.

What a chequered scene is the present state of God’s dear people, of adversity and prosperity, risings and fallings, darkness and light, losses and gains, crosses and mercies, bondage and liberty, sorrow and joy, life and death.

No sooner had the good hand of God provided us a chapel, and every thing seemed to prosper, but a sad calamity befel me, the worst I ever had, and the most distressing to my feelings—the death of a kind, loving, affectionate, and tender wife. In the sixth Letter of this little work I have given an account of our acquaintance and marriage; it was her mercy she had been taught of God before this period. Like most others, while young, she was cheerful and loved the world, and the things of it, and in the enmity of heart she despised the things of God, even to persecution; but she was the child, doubtless, of many prayers, compelled by an afflicted mother to read the Scriptures to her, which was no small burthen to her more gay and cheerful mind; she came to a very important portion of God’s Word, (Jer. iii.) a thought struck her that she would read that chapter again, when she was alone. She seized the opportunity, and when she came to the 4th verse, the passage was applied with peculiar power to her soul—“Wilt thou not, from this time, cry unto me, My Father, thou art the guide of my youth.” Conviction of her lost state came on, and she soon went to work at the law, attended legal preaching, and strove, in vain, to recommend herself to God, by the work of her hands, her watchings, vows, and resolutions, till the Lord led her under the ministry of more evangelical men, especially the ministry of our mutual favorite preacher, Mr. L. then supplying at Tottenham and Tabernacle: the Lord, having begun his good work, brought her soul into the sweet liberty of the gospel, and in the love and fear of God, she walked many years, living upon his grace, and depending upon his providence. Her faith and hope, though often tried and assaulted, were genuine, and her love to truth was firm; she was a woman of the finest feeling, and quick discernment of characters, many of whom she frequently cautioned me against, and many a sorrow I should have escaped, had I (as most men should) have listened to a wife. We had experienced many changes, and lived very comfortably together about eight years, when, alas! a sore trouble befel her, above which she never soared. A short time after her delivery of her fourth child, she being very weak and low, some incautious person suddenly surprized her with some alarming intelligence, which was found the next day to be false: this chilled her blood; medical aid was afforded, and she gained a little strength, but she felt the direful effects of it till her death, which was not till seven years afterwards. During this period she had but one child more, who grew up to his twelfth year, and then died in the Lord, a little account of which has since, been published in his funeral sermon, entitled “The Glory of Grace.” Increasing weakness, attended with fits, and her mode of living, reduced her system; she was confined to her bed but a short time, the last fortnight she was very composed; sometimes feared the hour of her departure, but the nearer she drew to death the less she feared. I took an affectionate leave of her the night previous to her death: her speech was gone twelve hours before her departure; I, however, endeavored to preach that morning on, “They that trust in the Lord shall be as the mount Zion, which cannot be moved.” This was expressive of her state, experience, and security. As that Lord’s-day closed, so she closed her eyes in death, sleeping in Jesus. I had many sweet portions of scripture, suited, indeed, to her case, brought with power to my soul; and having known her experience with the testimony of God’s truth, I am happy in the full persuasion of her eternal felicity. I preached on the following subject the Sunday after—“Ought not this woman, being a daughter of Abraham, whom satan has bound these eighteen years, to be loosed on the Sabbath-day?” Her warfare is accomplished. “What shall separate us from the love of Christ; shall things present?” I had many times advanced the doctrine of the final perseverance of believers; but it was truly precious then. As Mr. Huntington sings—

“The world may oppose, and fiends may engage, And dangers and threat’nings dismay; But still they pursue, in defiance of rage, For the righteous shall hold on his way.”

Farewell.—Yours, truly, J. C.

LETTER XXI.

“So I prophesied, as he commanded me, and the breath came into them.”

To —

I had heard and read much about the spread of the gospel in towns and villages, as well as in foreign climes, and magazines abounding with this information; but, in my travels, I cannot say I found it true. It may be the case, where I have not been. It is true, indeed, I found preaching and professing; but duty, faith, moral harangues, and Baxterian sentiments, were the greatest part of the preaching I could find. Both wise and foolish virgins all appeared to me to be asleep, except now and then a missionary meeting, when there did appear a little shaking amongst the dry bones; and dry enough they are; simple-hearted souls, resting on the piety and goodness of their preachers, though their souls were starving for food; and others resting on their lees, never having been emptied from vessel to vessel; a wonderful outcry against Antinomianism, although one professor in thirty thousand can not tell what this frightful thing can be. This sad state of professors not a little affected my heart, and feeling the importance of truth, I desired to go forth to this host of Midian, and the army of the Moabites, as the Lord spake by the prophet, 2 Kings, iii. “And ye shall smite every fenced city, and every choice city, and shall fell every good tree, and stop all wells of water, and mar every good piece of land with stones, and so they did, only in her Kir-haraseth left they the stones thereof, but the slingers went about it, and smote it.” An alarm should be sounded in the streets of Zion. We are at present in the Sardian state of the church. When thousands have a name to live, but they are dead, and many of the Lord’s spiritual people are sunk in a deep sleep, surely it is high time to awake out of sleep, to arise from such deadly preaching; and professing. It is time to seek the Lord, until he come and rain righteousness upon you. I bless God for many visits in the country, notwithstanding all opposition, and the plans satan laid in every direction for my overthrow. A few years ago I was invited to a small village called Horsell, near Woking: here I preached several times, in a small hovel, which was the only place they had; and soon afterwards they built a chapel and founded a church, and are blest with the pure gospel. At the same time I visited Woking and Chertsey, and found some blessed souls who were truly spiritual; and some who were the fruits Mr. Huntington’s ministry, and had been well brought up under the pastoral care of the truly excellent Mr. Merrit. Shortly afterwards, I was taken by a gentleman into Essex, and preached at C—. After the morning service I was invited to preach in the afternoon, it being a charity sermon for the school in that place. This a little affected me, when the children stood upon the forms, remembering when I was in like circumstances, while I pleaded their cause. Being intreated, I preached again in the evening; although I found, afterwards, it was a little out of order: this I did not know at the time, as the minister had to preach elsewhere—but it gave offence to him, which I was very sorry for; as the managers had unanimously invited me, I concluded it was mutual, and acted accordingly. I continued to preach, every evening, in the same place, except one, and the Word was blest to many; but much trouble arose in consequence of it, and many disputes about myself and my doctrine: but the Lord gave testimony to the Word of his grace, and those who were spiritual rejoiced for the consolation. I was again invited, but when I went down I was of course denied the use of the chapel. Guards were set to protect the place, lest the vast body of hearers should resolutely determine to enter; and had they been of that mind, they might easily have done it, as I was then informed that the holy men who employed them, made them all * * * * *, but I had no notion of hostility. A gentleman opened his house for me, which was soon crowded. I advised them to obtain a barn, or any large place, rather than act in an unchristian-like manner, which was done immediately. I opened it on the Lord’s-day, and preached in it three times to a very large assembly. I continued there that week, and shortly after visited it again; the last day of which I laid the foundation of a new chapel, on St. John’s-green, and preached in the evening on Gen. xxviii. 22—“And this stone, which I have now set, shall be God’s house; and of all that I receive I will give the tenth unto thee.” The people were exceedingly zealous and liberal. The place went up rapidly; but before its completion some disputes occurred amongst those who were engaged in it, which arose from spite on the part of some; and, to vex the other party, an objection was made to my coming down to open the chapel. A great deal of unpleasantry ensued, as a consequence, which was produced by an artful character, and attended with much grief. Both in town and country the plot took well, and another went to open it, who was less credit to them, in the issue, than I was. I had a most anxious desire to see the chapel, and to preach in it once, which was accomplished. A lady who had invited my daughter to spend a few weeks at her house in the town, requested I would come to see her; and, upon my arrival, many friends came to visit me. I exhorted in the parlour, and the next day was pressed by the friends to preach in the chapel. I accordingly solicited the use of the pulpit, for the evening, which was granted. The passage I was enabled to speak from, was—“He careth for you.” I felt extremely affected with a variety of ideas which crowded on my mind; the happy seasons I had experienced among them, the troubles they had been called to meet with on my account, and the thoughts, the solemn thoughts, that I should never see them more in this lower world, deeply impressed my heart. The next day I left the town, and earnestly prayed for them. My poor petitions were granted; the Lord has raised up a very faithful and deeply-taught preacher among them; a church is formed on the mixed Baptist plan, and God is with them. Many are very dear to my heart, and their kindness will never be forgotten by me,—nor the Lord neither, particularly the Messrs. A. H. L. and many more.

Some time after this I went to Lincoln, and to several places in Lincolnshire, where the Word was received; and I have heard from many what God had done by the preaching of the Word, through my feeble means. Many other places in the country the Lord has sent me to; also to Deptford, Greenwich, and some places near London.

The Lord will bless his own truth to his own people, by his own servants, and giving testimony to the word of his grace by the man, is a proof the man is a sent servant of God; as, on the contrary, the Lord says of some—“They ran, but I sent them not: therefore, they shall not profit this people at all”—where the Word is blest to precious souls it is an evidence of their being truly sent of God. “By their fruits ye shall know them; fruits of their ministry. Do men gather grapes off thorns, or figs off thistles?”—Even so every tree is known by its fruit; and this is a sure evidence to the people. So saith the Scripture, Ezek. xxiv.—“That he that escapeth in that day shall come unto thee, and cause thee to hear it with thine ears, and thou shalt be a sign unto them, and they shall know that I am the Lord.”

Yours, J. C.

“Each cherub of Jesus who preaches the Word, Shews the path-way that leadeth to life; The sixty that handle the spiritual sword, Attends both the Lamb and his wife.” [106]

LETTER XXII.

“And the rains descended, and the floods came, and beat upon that house, and it fell not.”

To —

From the building of the chapel, for the first two years, all went on smoothly, all was prosperous and peaceable; we had set sail in the ship Adramytum, and the South wind blew softly; and having obtained this, we sailed too close by Crete. This soft wind and easy sailing is not very advantageous to spiritual mariners. Ease, popularity, and prosperity, will never do long for the believer or the Christian minister. Prayer, meditation, and temptation, or trouble, makes a good preacher; and where the former is neglected, or but slightly attended to, the Lord has always trouble in store to arouse him again.

Hence the following declaration—“If thou shalt not watch, I will come on thee as a thief, and thou shalt not know in what hour I will come upon thee.” This is an address to the angel, the minister, and the church of Sardis. And I really think the description of that church exactly answered to our situation, as a church: I am sorry to odd, like most of the churches in the present day. This is too plain to be denied. Our summer’s day was soon clouded, an awful storm was foreboded by many, which at last fell upon us all: for, not long after, sailing by Crete, there arose a mighty wind, called Euroclydon; and when the ship was caught, and could not bear up to the wind, we let her drive, and running under a certain island which is called Clauda, we had much work to come by the boat, and being exceedingly tossed with a tempest, and neither sun nor moon, nor stars, appeared for many days, and no small tempest lay out us, all hope of deliverance being taken away, we cast fair anchor out of the stern, and wished for the day; but falling into a place where two seas met, they ran the ship aground, a part which was broken with the violence of the waves, but some other parts remained immoveable; yet, in God’s time we escaped to land; for, in the midst of the storm, some of as, in the confidence of faith, said, “We shall yet praise Him;” and though deep called unto deep, yet we knew the Lord would command his loving kindness in the day time: and even in that night his song was at times with us, and our prayer, unto the God of our lives; yet the sea wrought, and was tempestuous, till the Lord High Admiral of the Seas awoke and rebuked the winds and waves, and then there was a calm, for which we can never be too thankful. O for a heart to praise him who reigns over all his and our foes! In the year 1816 I began a course of lectures on Paul’s voyage, which required a great deal of attention, and a little more ingenuity than I ever possessed. Soon after this, alas! we were brought experimentally to understand the subject; and though we all rejoiced in the explanation and mystical sense, as it was explained, yet, neither myself nor the congregation much liked the experimental part. It is very easy to preach and hear of storms, but when we really feel them, we are ready to exclaim, “I pray thee have me excused.” Nature ever did, and ever will, rebel against the cross. Although faith sees it needful, for a season, to be under temptations, no trial can come by chance, nor does affliction spring from the ground, but man is born to trouble, as the sparks fly upwards; afflictions are of Divine appointment, not to make an atonement for sin, nor to eradicate sin from the body, but they are as useful as medicines to the body, and though painful, yet afterwards they yield the peaceable fruits of righteousness to them which are exercised thereby, no matter who the instruments are, nor what they are called, nor what end they have in view. What God aims at is to teach us wisdom; to try our faith, and that we may try him and find him faithful; to wean us from this present evil world; to let us know what is in our hearts; to display his power, love, wisdom, and faithfulness; and, at last, to break down this earthly tabernacle, and bring the souls of his redeemed to their eternal inheritance. And this is well. Surely every Christian must say

I am sometimes grieved that the Lord’s tried people are so much prone to look at second causes, and rebel against or resent the instruments which afflict them; it is a mercy to be enabled to forgive, freely, fully, and sincerely, those who, from bad motives, attempt to injure us; for this conduct we have the very best of examples. O for grace to imitate them. I do believe that neither priest nor Levite, neither professor or profane, had any other motives in opposing me for so many years, but what have arisen from ignorance, envy, and hatred to truth. I speak now of those who have been so long endeavouring to injure me in the estimation of the public. [110] I speak not of the excellent laws of the country. God forbid. I have always, in public and in private, spoken well of them; and if I transgressed any one law, I have as much right to suffer the penalty of that law as any other man, and more so—but I am now speaking of those gentlemen of the cloth who have endeavoured to degrade me, both in doctrine and conduct: blessed be God they have failed. “Behold, they shall surely gather together, but not by me, saith the Lord.” I consider all that these have done has been spite, and I prove it thus. How many erroneous preachers, and abominable in their conduct, have appeared since I came first into the same neighbourhood? Why not oppose them also? Why not watch their conduct—belabour them in the pulpit—make them the subject matter of preaching (for want of better matter)—search out their real or supposed faults—call committees on the subject—expend large sums of money—publish, print, circulate—run from county to county—employ the vilest vassals to carry on their nefarious conspiracies—I say, why not others become the subjects of their spleen? And even some amongst themselves, great advocates for what they choose to call practical godliness, who have been drenched in sensuality, some of whom have been exposed to the public—why not use them as they have me? I only appeal to every thinking mind, whether their cruelty could arise from any thing but spite. It cannot arise from my doctrine itself, but their wilful ignorance of it, perversion of it, or hatred to it. What is my doctrine, but—

That every believer being delivered from the law, as a covenant of works, and having the love of God shed abroad in his heart, loves every law of God, with all his renewed heart, his mind, and strength.

If this is the doctrine I preach, and I preach no other, can it be justly condemned as being against the law? Surely not. And as I have stated this as a solemn truth, that I preach no other doctrine, I only ask the reader, once more, must not my religious enemies be most awful liars, who have borne such false witness against me, upon this subject? As to the general term used—the moral law a rule of life—I do not choose to use the term, and why? Because no man in this world can make common sense of it; it is a common hacknied phrase in the mouth of every pharisaic professor, but the words will not bear an investigation. I only ask an explanation of the term. Why should I make use of words I do not understand? From my enemies I demand an explanation of it. I have read volumes of the controversy on both sides, but no one has, for no one can, explain the term. I know a certain Baptist preacher, who compels all his newly-received members to declare, they believe the moral law is a rule of life for believers; and, poor things, they are obligated in their weakness, to acknowledge this, which neither themselves nor preacher can understand. How can it be a rule for a Baptist? Do the ten commandments say any thing about Baptism; about the Lord’s Supper; about singing of psalms, hymns, or spiritual songs; or godly conversation, or forgiveness of others; or any of their church rules? Not a word. How, then, can it be a rule for a Baptist, who is bound to attend to the rules of his own society, or even of my principal adversary; does it command him to read or chaunt prayers? Has it prescribed gowns or bands, or singers, or organs? Does the moral law teach him to belie, ridicule, and use his utmost to injure his neighbour, or run to consult counsellors, to know how he can get rid of Mordecai sitting at the king’s gate; or once to be zealous for truth, and now to wink at error? I think not. I leave this to his conscience. I demand, if the moral law is a rule of life, why transgress the fourth commandment, by labour and rest on the first day of the week, instead of the seventh? If a rule, why do they not keep it? I am only objecting to the term; but, beloved, abide then in Christ and his Word; and as many as walk according to this rule, peace be on them.

LETTER XXIII.

“And set up false witnesses, which said, this man ceaseth not to speak blasphemous words against this holy place and the law.”

In my last to you I have only objected to the mere obsolete and unmeaning phrase—the moral law a believer’s rule of life. I beg you to bear in mind, I do not say it is not a rule, but I maintain it is an insufficient rule of conduct for a believer under the gospel dispensation. If it had been a sufficient rule, why all the laws of Christ given as set forth in the preceptive parts of the New Testament? The doctrine of the gospel are the rules of our faith, and the precepts delivered to the churches, the rules of our conduct: this is a truth which cannot be overthrown—for asserting the above, it is surprising the enmity of the advocates of the law of Moses, as they call themselves, manifest against those who differ from them; yea, they would persecute them to bonds and to death. This is evident in the life of the late truly experimental, devout, and faithful Mr. W. Huntington, a man truly devoted to God; nor could his vigilant enemies find a single fault in his moral deportment, although they tried for it all his days; those serpents were disappointed of their food in this particular; God blessed and kept him—owned his message to thousands; and, while the Lord has a church upon earth, most of his writings will be of signal service to God’s own family; yet he was made the butt of spite and malice, ridicule, and contempt; nor could the rage of an empty professor be ever so excited, than to hear of persons attending his ministry; workmen and servants discharged from their situations by great professors; wives, husbands, neighbours, and relations, persecuting each other on this account; pastors cutting off members without mercy, when they had been starved under their ministry, and went in search of food under the ministry of that man of God. Preachers, when sadly off for a subject, had only to introduce the frightful Antinomian, and this filled up the time. A very rev. gentleman loaded him with every ill-natured and low-life name he could; like Esau of old, whose conduct is strongly reprobated in the book of Obadiah, to which I must refer you. This elder brother fled from town to town, place to place, and house to house, to oppose, traduce, misrepresent, and vilify the Lord’s servant; but, as Mr. H. was a brother in Christ, in the faith of the gospel, and the love of the Spirit, sad must be the state of that man who manifests such hatred? See the epistles of John, then draw an inference. What a mercy for us, who are dubbed Antinomians, that the civil sword is not in the hands of these Balaams; [114] you may partly judge how they would serve such asses as we are. It is a good remark I have met with—the name Antinomian, we view as a kind of scare-bird, which the devil hangs up in the pulpits of hypocrites, on purpose to keep the Lord’s doves from flying to their windows; and it has happened to this figure, as it often does to an image set up in a cherry-tree, it will frighten the birds for a while, but when the little creatures come to discover the cheat, you will see them sit upon the head of it. But why all this opposition? Take it in Mr. H.’s own words, in his “Essay on Divine Law,” p. 275.

“The good man who has distinguished himself as my godfather, and who has palmed the name of Antinomian upon me, and upon all that are in connection with me, and who has, without intermission, slandered and loaded we with reproach for five and twenty years, is an evangelist of the first magnitude; though I never spoke to him but once in my life. He is most exceeding zealous for the law of Moses, and of its being the only rule of life for believers. My not holding this assertion has filled him with all this holy indignation against me; that, although he often forgets his text, and sometimes loses himself, even in the pulpit, yet he never forgets nor loses sight of the filthy Antinomian; and he is so violent for his own holiness and sanctification, that he would be glad to send me to the devil, in defence of it. And I doubt not but the Lord has set him at this work to ripen him, as was the case when he bid Shimei curse David, that God might curse him. And I am as fully persuaded as David was, ‘That the Lord will requite me good for his cursing.’ 2 Sam. xvi. 12. He has called me a spiritual monkey, a spiritual blackguard; confessing that, if he was to see the devil flying away with me, he could not find in his heart to cry, ‘stop thief!’ believing the devil had only got his own property. And he has publicly confessed there are three creatures in this world that his pious soul hates; namely, the devil, Dr. Priestley, and Huntington; but that he hates Huntington the worst of the three. Part of this is true, and part false. It is true that he hates Huntington; but the other two have received no damage by him in any thing. And I may say of my godfather as the prophet says of Jacob’s brother, that, ‘He did pursue his brother with the sword, and did cast off all pity, and his anger did tear perpetually, and he kept his wrath for ever.’—Amos, i. 2. My reader may believe me when I say, that I esteem his indignation and his reproach a greater treasure to me than either his affections or his prayers; for we are to be hated of all men, and especially of all such men, for Christ’s name sake.—Matt. x. 22. And this is so far from offending me, that I am pleased with it, and make myself merry at the reports of his zeal, which hath almost eaten him up; and he may go on, for his whole warfare is in defence of his own honour; and the more the Lord enlarges me, the more he is enlarged also.”

Again, p. 296—

“I wish these gentlemen would lay by the old thread-bare text, which is of their own forging, and give us a few practical discourses upon the law, shewing us how to love God, and love to the neighbours fulfils it; for, ‘On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.’—Matt. xxii. 40. And again; ‘Therefore all things, whatsoever you would that men should do to you, do you even so to them; for this is the law and the prophets.’ This last text would try my pious godfather to the quick; for, although he is so very fond of calling others blackguards, yet he cannot bear it himself. If others were to pursue him for twenty-five years, as he has chased me, and work him out of every pulpit, loading him with charges of error, loose living, deceiving sinners, &c. &c. all of which, and in a language equal to that of Billingsgate, his pious soul has thought fit to heap upon me; I say, were others to treat him so, he would weep like a child, fawn like a cat, and run to every counsellor in London to plead his cause, and appeal to the world in behalf of his innocency and the respectability of his family. Preachers that have nothing to stand upon but the testimony of hypocrites, and the applause of fools, can bear but little of this sort of scandal; for their sandy foundation soon gives way, and, not being able to face either God or conscience in the closet, they are sure to go down; and, ‘Woe to him that is alone when he falleth.’ However, if these laws of retaliation are not put into practice by my pious godfather aforesaid, I have no doubt but the Law giver will put them in full force himself, according to his own promise; ‘For with what judgment ye judge ye shall be judged; and with what measure ye meet it shall be measured to you again.’—Matt. vii. 2. He has not only loaded me with reproach and scandal himself; but being a man noted for wisdom, experience, and soundness of doctrine, he is much looked up to, and therefore others have been emboldened to join him in the same work.”

All this opposition to that late man of God was undeserved; nor should I have introduced the subject, but only to shew how far the rage of man may go in his false zeal for the law [117] in these professing times. As it respects myself, I would to God I had been like Mr. H. in almost every branch of my conduct; it would have saved me many a painful and distressing hour. However, it is evident the hand of God brought me into this neighbourhood, and has kept me many years amidst so many storms; my enemies themselves being judges. Our music and dancing has indeed offended our elder brethren, Luke xv. who boast they never transgressed the commandment at any time; yet their pride of heart is not a little mortified in beholding the hand of God towards me. God declared to the pharisaic Jews—“By a foolish nation will I anger you.” This is the case now; what I have erred in at any time is matter of the deepest grief to my heart, and I will most readily confess it before God, and if there were any necessity for it, I would to the church of God, in this little work; but there is no occasion for that, as every believer feels the sin of his own heart to be a plague and a sore—yet prudence dictates to him not to acknowledge it. Nevertheless I have no authority to confess or acknowledge what I never did—what I never was guilty of. Reader, would you? With all the faults with which the believer is guilty, as a sinner in Adam, he never does, he never can sin, that grace may abound. He cannot sin as a believer; when he sins at all, it is not upon the free-grace principles of the gospel. God forbid; these teach him to deny all ungodliness, but to his grief he carries about with him a body of sin; and the scriptures declare there is not a just man upon the earth, that doeth good, and sinneth not. In many things, said the holy James, we all offend, and the venerable, aged, and holy John, says the same—“If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” If the saints of old were free from sin and sinning, what can all their confessions, groans, tears, and sighs mean? And if my opponents, who have represented me so bad so many years, are themselves quite innocent, quite holy, or pure—how can they daily read the church service, in her general confession, litany, collects, communion service, and, indeed, throughout the whole. I say not this to encourage sin—to charge me with this, is to charge the whole Word of God with it. Foolish worldlings, who can be no judges of what either constitutes or characterises a Christian, vainly suppose that to be a Christian is in every respect to be a spotless person: and surely this is the wish of a Christian; this is the desire of his heart—but who upon earth ever attained it—none but the Divine Saviour. The Lord grant us increasing conformity to his own image. Amen. I have sometimes reflected upon the various enemies I have had, and am surrounded with now, who are every day waiting, watching, and longing for my halting, as in Jeremiah, xx. 10th verse.—“For I heard the defaming of many, fear on every side.—Report, say they, and we shall report it; all my enemies watched for my halting, saying, peradventure, he will be enticed, and we will prevail against him.” But who are they? Perhaps some pious, mistaken, good-meaning people, to whom I have been misrepresented—some envious, pharisaic preachers and professors, who in heart hate the truth, as it is in Jesus, and long for an opportunity to degrade it, by the bad conduct of some who profess it. Some, hypocrites, who are secretly living in diabolical sins; these are anxious to catch hold of some fault, on purpose to harden their own hearts in sin, and ripen themselves for hell.—Some, worldlings, either to furnish themselves with matter for ridicule against religion—or to gain something by it, as many have gained many pounds by coming forth to curse Israel. But enough of this. A little more than four years rolled away, while the enemy took breath. We were so quiet, that my name did not, for a long time, occur in the daily papers; yea, they had forgotten me in the “Sunday News.” I was as a dead man, almost out of mind: but this did not last long. As God had new mercies in store for me, so he had also new trials and new deliverances.

Yours, J. C.

LETTER XXIV.

“He calleth to me out of Seir, Watchman, what of the night? The morning cometh, and also the night.”

To —

I think there are very few serious troubles befal us, but God is pleased to give us some intimation of their approach; so I have frequently found it, either by uncommon joys or remarkable impressions, and very often by dreams, and these repeatedly. I know this last idea will expose me again to the contempt of heedless characters; but it is written—“God speaketh once, yea twice, though man perceiveth it not.” However, many have found it too true. God spoke so to Joseph, to the butler, and baker, in prison; to Pharaoh, and to many others of old, and I am fully persuaded he speaks to us. Not that dreams have any thing to do with salvation business; although I am fully persuaded that the Lord has often first imprest many of his people with awful dreams, which have led them to a serious concern about their souls; and no doubt given them warning of approaching troubles: so I found it. I dreamed, one night, that a vast number of young scorpions, or small serpents, were crawling about the floor of the chapel; this at first alarmed me, but by my feet I crushed all but two, which fled to the very seat which was occupied by ******* and another. These I could not destroy, which left a painful sensation on my mind. When I awoke, I knew, at least I judged, some calamity was approaching; nor was I deceived. A gentlewoman soon after called upon me—she appeared very dejected; I enquired the cause, when she informed me she was sure some direful trial would shortly befal me. I asked why she thought so? Only from the repetition of her dream—which was, that she saw a cat, while I was in the pulpit, clasp me round the neck, and salute me; but, as she departed, she tore my neck and throat in so awful a manner that all were frightened who saw it. I told her it was but a dream; but she said she was sure it was of God, as the sad event proved. Shortly after this, I was invited to sleep at a friend’s house, which I did; but the second night, being indisposed, and having to meet the committee after service, the hour being late, I was advised and pressed not to go there; yet I knew I was expected, and being entreated, I complied. On my road a most unaccountable sensation seized me, and, as though a hand touched me, a voice, at the same time, seemed to say, “Do not go to-night.” I made an apology to the party I was with, by saying I would see them to the door, and then return home; but nothing would avail. O that I had followed the impressions. Shortly after this night, I heard a strange rumour, which produced a great deal of uneasiness. Evil reports were circulating; but, as if some strange infatuation had seized me, I took little notice of it, yet I thought it strange. These words came to me: “Agree with thine adversary quickly, while thou art in the way with him, lest at any time he deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison.” Yet I was conscious I had done nothing worthy of death or of bonds, so that I was still inflexible. Many gossips, through the rumour, continually plagued the party, which did me infinite injury. Several gentlemen from the chapel waited on him, to whom he read a deposition, which contained nothing criminal in my conduct; and, having gained this satisfaction, the matter rested where it was for nine or ten weeks. The gloomy month of November arrived, which brought my old adversary to town; and soon after a friend called on me, and gave me the painful information that he had seen the above party, with my accuser, at the Public Hall, and being informed it was concerning me, he thought it right to apprize me of it.

This was the severest blow I ever felt in my life. I immediately procured counsel; and, without being seat for, appeared. The statement was made, an assault was declared, bail was put in, and it was bound over to quarter sessions. This was soon spread. Now a shower of papers, placards, and pamphlets came pouring over me; the congregation thrown into trouble; my family in the deepest distress of mind, and my feelings racked beyond description—while thousands rejoiced in the day of our calamity. But it is written—“He that is glad at calamity shall smart for it.” Mark this. I must remind you also of the lamentation of the church.—1 Lament. 21: “They have heard that I sigh, all mine enemies have heard of my trouble, they are glad that thou hast done it; thou wilt bring the day that thou hast called, and they shall be like unto me.” How did the Phillistines now rejoice, supposing that the ark was taken, but the joy of the hypocrite is but for a moment. Great troubles were in the church, and “for the division of Reuben there were great searchings of heart,” but those who were at ease in Zion were not grieved for the afflictions of Joseph.”—Amos, vii. Many paltry scribblers issued forth their rubbish like insects from the mud of Nile; and I was the song of the drunkards.

But I cannot here forget the goodness of God, who helped me in the day of trouble. I constantly preached and administered the ordinances. The Lord kept all peaceable without and within; thousands looked on and wondered, as they do to this day. To add to my calamity, I entrusted my affairs to a very injudicious old lawyer, who, to answer his sordid purposes, advised me to carry this cause to a higher court: this was only adding affliction to my bonds. I knew but little about courts of law, so that I was led, hoodwinked, into this business.

One year and three months rolled away in this trouble. During this time I wrote a letter to a friend, who carried it to my opposers, and although couched in the most friendly terms respecting themselves, yet they had the cruelty to bring forth that letter to my hurt, another day. This was devilish, indeed: the learned judge mistaking the religious sense of the letter, supposed that I meant it as a contempt of the just laws of the country—God forbid. No, no; it was a private letter to a friend, in which I meant, that any injury done to a child of God, maliciously, [124] would one day be resented. But this was not treating the laws of the country with contempt. I ever maintained, that if the holiest Christian upon earth has violated the laws of his land, he has a just right to endure the penalty.—Never, surely, did a poor creature suffer so much in mind, with any outward calamity, as I did. And what for? Some cried one thing, some another. About this time I changed my situation: many advised me to leave the country; and, as I was placed in circumstances, I could have paid my bail, and lived comfortably in another land. But why should I flee? In this circumstance I asked advice of the Lord, who graciously answered me—“Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.” On God’s Word I relied, and found him faithful.

Yours, J. C.

LETTER XXV.

“Their adversaries said, we offend not, because they have sinned against the Lord.”—Jer. l. 7.

To —

No doubt the steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and he worketh all things after the counsel of his own will. If so, we hardly know how to blame the apostle Paul in his conduct, as recorded in Acts, xxv.—When brought before Festus, he appealed to a higher court—“I appeal unto Cæsar;” then said Festus, “Hast thou appealed unto Cæsar? to Cæsar thou shalt go.” Here the apostle had two years’ imprisonment, and at last suffered martyrdom; although, in the lower court, he might have been set at liberty.

It is the privilege of Englishmen that they may carry their causes to higher courts; although it was not attend with much good to me, it was granted and the best of counsel retained. While this was pending many and great were the anxieties of thousands respecting my future destiny; nor could I be happy. This procrastination of the trial, and sentence of decision, was in much mercy, as the mind was borne down with trouble, company was a burden, and I longed to retire from observation and all society. This prepared my mind, gradually, for the event; but it was a suitable season for observation. I watched the motions of many, and while upon the watch-tower, these words came into my mind—“That the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed:” and so it was. While many of the Lord’s people were deeply affected, every sensible and pious character felt exceedingly for the afflicted church, and daily prayed for us, especially some ministers of respectability: while the meaner sort of preachers not only rejoiced, but used their exertions to injure me, some of whom I formerly had it in my power to punish, but I never did; I fully, freely forgave them. From March to July I resided a little way from town, and passed as pleasant a time as circumstances would permit; only my old plague of a lawyer was continually hunting me for money, under some pretence or another. I beg leave here to advise all persons labouring under any sore calamity, to employ a respectable attorney at once, it will be less expence at the end; and generally the most safe way.

Every thing was against me, the floods lifted up their voice, the floods lifted up their waves; and, if the Lord had not supported my mind, at times, I must have been quite overwhelmed.

Assize time came, and now all was bustle; had an emperor been going to be tried for his life, surely there could not have been much more confusion, disputes, meetings, opinions, hopes, fears, and griefs, sincerity and hypocrisy; but I, partly knowing the mind of God, was prepared for the event. The committee who had met and consulted so many times before against me, and whose names, or rather characters, were old Uzzah, Hananiah, Coriah, Jannes, and Jambres, Phygelles, Hermogenes, Hymenius, and Alexander the coppersmith; Demetrius the silversmith; Sceva, Sanballat, and Tobiah, Geshem, and Doeg the Edomite; Shethar, Boznai, Rabshakeh, Nergal, Shrezar, Samgar, Nebo, Rab Saris, and Rab Mag, [127] and Haman; a noble company truly! assembled in a certain street, at the Dung Gate, Nehemiah, iii. 14; or rather the religious manufactory. These rulers of Babylon, being men of power, might, and influence, now exerted themselves, and although some are so miserable as to grudge themselves and families the common necessaries of life, yet they freely parted from their money on this very important occasion. I have heard, and believe, they used their personal influence with *****, and others, others the most respectable amongst them, wrote to the learned Artaxerxes, as in days of old—see Ezra, iv. 6 to 16; mark—the persons who wrote the letter, thy servants on this side the river Thames—verse 11. On Friday I delivered my address to the people, from Psalm cxxx. 1. Saturday, during the trial, I shut up myself from all society, and gave myself up to the will of God; and, by prayer and supplication, sought his supporting hand. The trial ended as was generally supposed it would. How could it be otherwise? The lie that was told—the mistake of the design of the letter—the country at large could not avoid prejudice, as the nation was inundated with a strong tide of pamphlets and newspapers, for weeks together; my witnesses were nothing—one had forgot, and the other could not remember; [128] my old lawyer had not prepared half the defence to offer to counsel, although he had been so well paid for it; the trial closed, and I lost the day: and, how great was the joy of thousands that I had never injured; but they all had an end to answer. The grief of my best wishers was great, and surely we all felt the blow most keenly. This gave full scope for opposition,—now, once more, the tide of scribbling rose, the sound of horns rushing through every street, Sunday-morning papers were eagerly embraced, posts running to and fro, hundreds running to stages with papers for country friends; but, amidst all, I felt the supporting presence of God, which, I am confident, my triumphant foes did not, nor his approbation neither. My public labours were now nearly laid aside. I met the congregation in private, and delivered many addresses to them. I resided at this time a little way from town, and here the few that knew me treated me with civility: but, one evening, we were thrown into confusion by a vast mob assembling before the house, with rough music, an infamous placard, and a frightful figure, intended as an effigy of me; a large fire was soon kindled, and it was burnt before the door. After a few shouts were raised, they departed. Application was made to a magistrate for redress, but in vain. Some, for less crimes, would have taken away the licence of the house they met at; but I say no more. This was attended with some good to me. It opened another door in providence, in which I was enabled to see my friends. The above circumstance hurt my mind a little; but, in answer to prayer, these words came into my mind—“Fear not, no man shall set on thee to hurt thee, for I am with thee.”