Letters and Papers
by the late
Theodosia A. Viscountess Powerscourt.
edited by the Rev. Robert Daly, A.M.
Rector of Powerscourt, in the Diocese of Dublin
London: Hatchard and Son, Piccadilly.
William Curry, Jun. and Co. Dublin.
MDCCCXXXVIII.
Dublin: Printed by John S. Folds, 5, Bachelor's Walk
Preface.
In offering the following Volume to the public, it is, perhaps, necessary that I should prefix a few words, to state what the reader is to expect, and what he is not to expect, in these Letters and Papers. He is not to expect anything in the character of religious gossip; any anecdotes of, or remarks concerning, living persons, with whom the writer had intercourse. Those who had the privilege of receiving Letters from the late Lady Powerscourt, know well that she delighted to dwell on much higher subjects than the actions, or opinions, of her fellowmen. If every thing she ever wrote was submitted to the public eye, it would be, perhaps, a subject of surprise to some, how very little was said about other persons in her extended correspondence. But, in the following selections, I have studiously omitted every thing in the least degree personal. Those, therefore, that shall take up this Volume with the hope of reading Lady Powerscourt's opinions of this person or that person of this or the other movement, in or out of the Church, will be disappointed. I trust that these pages will furnish no food that would gratify such appetites. Had the correspondence, from which it has been my part to make selections, afforded such materials, I should never have been the instrument of making them public. But that eminent disciple of our blessed Lord, whose Letters are now printed, with a hope and prayer that they may tend to the edification of the Church, lived in a higher atmosphere; inhaled herself, and breathed forth, a purer air. She, of all the Christians I have been privileged to know, came nearest to that which she has, in such strong uncommon terms, stated to be her idea of a Christian: "Not one who looks up from earth to heaven, but one who looks down from heaven on earth". She appears to have ascended a high and holy eminence, and from thence to have looked down upon those earthly scenes, with which too many are entirely engrossed, living up to that high spiritual requirement of the Apostle, "Set your affections on things above, and not on things on the earth, for ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God." Those who take up this Volume may expect to find the language of a heart thus lifted up above the world, the free and unrestrained breathing of a soul whose "conversation was in heaven;" who was "raised up, and made to sit in heavenly places in Christ Jesus."
The only thing which induces me to publish the following Letters and Papers, is the conviction that they express the sentiments, and experience, and heaven taught spirituality, of one who had made more rapid advances in the divine life, than is ordinarily found in the Church below. I thought that this candle, which the Lord had lighted, should not be hid under a bushel, but put on a candlestick, that it might give light to all that are in the house. There will be found original and strong thoughts, clothed in original and strong language: indeed the strength of the language may sometimes startle some of those who read these Letters, and may be such, that had the writer revised them for publication, she might have, perhaps, somewhat softened her expressions; but, as Editor, I did not think myself authorised, even if I had felt disposed, to do so. In truth, (whether erroneously or not,) I like those strong expressions: I would not wish to alter one of them: they bring back to my recollection, the image of the strongest mind that I ever met in any woman: they help to remind me of that which was her peculiar characteristic, uncommon masculine strength, combined with the extremest feminine gentleness: they help me to apprehend the power with which she realized those important subjects about which she wrote; and I am not without hope that, through the blessing of God, they may be made instrumental to convey the same reality to others.
Whilst I believe that all intelligent readers may derive benefit and edification from these pages, I conceive they may be especially profitable and comfortable to mourners; to those "who are afflicted or distressed in mind, body, or estate." Lady Powerscourt was one acquainted with grief. She had had severe and heavy trials; and she was thus, in a peculiar way, fitted to sympathise with all tried Christians. She was enabled "to comfort those who were in any trouble, with the comforts wherewith she herself had been comforted of God." When she knew of any of her friends being in trial, she seems to have felt herself especially drawn to write to them a "word in season". Therefore many of the Letters in the collection are addressed to mourners, and will, I trust, be found comforting and strengthening to those who are in similar circumstances.
There is one subject which occupied much of Lady Powerscourt's attention, which does not appear in the following pages, as prominent as many of her religious friends might have expected, and that is, the subject of prophecy. She was known to have very deeply considered it, to have conversed with those persons who were most remarkable for their study of it, and to have consulted the books which have been written on it; and, above all, to have read the Scriptures with much deep attention to the subject and yet, very little on prophecy appears in her correspondence. Lest any persons should think that, in making the selection, I have thrown aside Letters on the subject, I think it right to state that I have been myself surprised to find how little, upon this interesting subject, has been left among her papers. I had expected to have found much clear statement of the result of her deep consideration of prophecy; and though she should have stated that which did not agree with my views, I should have published her's, and allowed those interested in the subject to exercise their judgment thereon. I should certainly not do what some persons, whom I esteem, have done, — publish the sentiments of another, though at the time considering them erroneous, on the fundamental principles of the Gospel but I would publish the sentiments of another on the future prospects of the Church, though in those sentiments, I thought the writer was mistaken; because I consider the first subject to be vital, and that error on it is essentially dangerous. I do not so think of the other subject. I consider the whole Church of Christ to be much in the dark with regard to prophecy, and more or less in error concerning it; and that the best way to correct the error, and attain more light, is to encourage free discussion upon it. In order to reach the end, it is essential not to mistake as to the way. It is not equally essential to form correct anticipations, as to what shall be found at the end. Those who are on the way shall reach the end, and then all their mistakes concerning it shall be corrected.
I feel myself called upon to return my thanks to the correspondents of Lady Powerscourt, for the kindness and confidence with which they have entrusted me with her valuable Letters. They will see, I trust, that I have not violated their confidence. I have selected according to my best judgment; I have altered nothing, and corrected little, except when necessary to make the sense clear, which will often be indispensable in publishing from an uncorrected manuscript. I have been obliged to omit some very beautiful letters, on account of the recurrence of the same sentiments and expressions in other Letters. It appears to have been frequently the case, that some scriptural subject, with a suitable train of thought, was very deeply impressed upon Lady Powerscourt's mind; and she recurred to that subject and train of thought, in writing to her different friends, at the same time, in different places. I have generally omitted the Letters in which the sameness of thought was observable; but I have sometimes admitted a repetition, where I must otherwise have rejected a Letter, in other respects valuable, or have made omissions which might have rendered the sense less clear. I hope her correspondents will excuse me for the omissions, and the readers for the repetitions they may observe.
As my object is simply to present to the Church the sentiments of the writer, which appear to me to be likely to promote edification, I have omitted even the names of the persons to whom the Letters were addressed; and I have abstained from prefixing to this Volume any thing in the way of a memorial of the departed writer. It would be impossible to write any biographical sketch of her that is gone, without stating particulars as to those that remain, which might give them a publicity which would be distressing to their feelings. I send, then, the Letters before the public, without any recommendation except their own intrinsic worth. I publish them, not because they were written by my dear departed friend, but because, in my judgment, (not unprejudiced, I admit,) they appear to be in themselves such as ought to see the light.
I have added, at the end, a few Papers, which seem to have been her private exercises on scriptural subjects. They will show how deeply she considered, and how powerfully she reasoned, upon the word of God. It may, indeed, be said of her, that her "delight was in the law of the Lord, and in his law did she meditate day and night."
It only remains that I should commend this Volume to the blessing of Him, "without whom nothing is strong — nothing is holy". He was pleased to make the writer of these Letters a very signal monument of His grace. She bore witness to His grace in her life, and by her life; and I pray, that He may vouchsafe to allow her, "though dead, yet to speak," to the edification of His people, and to the glory of His holy name.
Powerscourt Glebe, April, 1838.
Letters.
Letter 1.
... 1821.
I am glad to hear you have a good opinion of ... I almost envy any one a strong feeling of sin, but I am sure our wise and tender Father knows best how to measure that out to us, in proportion as He sees us able to bear it; though it seems sad not to grieve at offending such a Lord. It gives me much pleasure to hope there are ... in this house seeking him, whom, I trust, I at least desire to be dearer to me than all the world. It is cheering to see even a Christian's face. I do not expect to go to ... either Wednesday or Thursday; but perhaps the less of these enjoyments we have, the more shall we long for an eternity of them, when all foolish worldly gossip, which weighs us down now, will be over for ever.
Yours, most sincerely,
T. A. HOWARD.
Letter 2.
Dear Mr ..., I return the sermon with many thanks; I am greatly obliged to you for it, and particularly for your kindness in saying I am heartily welcome to it. I trust the Lord may bring me, and all dear to me, to the blessed state which the sermon describes that of a Christian to be. I must also thank you for your little prayer at the end of your note, you have not one in your parish who needs it more. You say you hope I sometimes offer one for you; it would be strange if it was only sometimes, but if you knew what my prayers are, you would beg to be left out. Indeed I am not satisfied on that head; for some weeks I have not been able to pray at all, and seldom to read (I mean in private), and it is more wretched than I can say. Perhaps if you are not engaged, you will be kind enough to send me a few lines to say, if you ever knew this to be the case with any of whom you had hopes, and what you think is the cause of it, for I suppose it must be my own fault. I sometimes fear the Lord's Spirit will not strive with me any longer. I hope you will excuse my troubling you about myself; but there is no peace, while the Lord hides from us the light of his countenance. It will be a happy time, when we shall have done with this body of sin.
Yours, most sincerely,
T . A. HOWARD.
Letter 3.
...I have just been reading two such sweet verses, 12th and 13th of Col. 1, and almost fearing such great things cannot be intended for such a log; however, the thought of being a partaker of that inheritance is sometimes very sweet, and I believe I may as well enjoy the thoughts of it here, even if I never do arrive at it...
Letter 4.
London, April 9th, 1823.
My dear ..., I hope you will not think my long silence a mark of ingratitude for your goodness in writing to me so long and kind a letter, but between ... illness and ... I have had but little time to myself, and that little I know you would rather I should give to the Bible, than to you. Besides, I wished to be able to tell you that ... was quite well, which I think I can say, thank God, now. His illness has been a very trying one, and more tedious, from its having been so much on his nerves. But the Lord has only brought us in view of great misery, that we may feel more dependant on him, and the more watchful to be ready for every thing. I wish I could say this was the effect it has had on me, or that anything ever moved this cold stony heart. Indeed I have long been in despair about that, and often wished to speak to you on the subject; so much so, that I had resolved to visit you the morning before we left Powerscourt, but thinking that perhaps you would consider me troublesome and very full of self ..., and as you proposed writing, I determined I would postpone asking your advice, till I had the pleasure of hearing from you, and I think you deserve a scolding from me, for you must have remarked how much I had fallen away from the Lord, for I did not try to hide it, and you know you should have spoken to me about it. But it is only wonderful that I am not more unhappy; for I do not think I have any feeling of any sort on the subject remaining, or hardly any care whether I have part or lot in the matter. I have not felt particular harm from moving about, for I could not be worse, than I was before leaving Ireland. I had nothing to lose. I often fear my name has been blotted out from the book of life, and that the Lord is weary of entreating me to accept all the blessings of the Gospel. I know you will set about comforting me, but it is not that I want; what I feel is an apathy, and indifference, whether one of the promises belongs to me or not. Oh, If you knew the difference of my feelings from this time last year, you would think the same as I do ... I was so happy in him then, that I thought I could never be moved — the Lord, of his goodness, had made my hill so strong. I remember telling ... that, let events turn out as they might, my happiness was ensured; even if shut up for life in a dungeon, I could be nothing but happy, with the prospect of being one with my Saviour. But He hid his face from me, and I have been troubled. I find I can do without anything but Him; but having once tasted his love, everything else has lost its sweetness. I feel now that I care for nothing: not for the things of another world, and I am sure, not for the things of this. Instead of running to my Bible, as a hungry man to his food, I read it as a task. Prayer is no more my sweetest pleasure, but a duty which I feel glad to have over; and when I go to it, I have nothing to say to my Lord. The contemplation of Heaven used to be so sweet, it made everything earthly appear as nothing. Now I do not feel it would give me the least pleasure, to hear that I was to be there tomorrow. Oh, if you knew how unmoved my heart is at all the wonderful means of grace I enjoy, one beautiful sermon after another. I feel none of the delight I once used at seeing a Christian walk into the room. Instead of loving to hear them talk of the Saviour, I am at a loss for something to say; indifferent, totally so, about the souls of others ... I am in an awful state. I could tell you a great deal more, but it would be only tormenting you. I tell you this much, not expecting you to understand my case, for I do not suppose there ever was such another, but that you may not think me interested in all those things, for which I feel 60 little. I know you can do nothing for me, but this I hope you will do — strive hard for me, strive hard for me in your prayers: I owe you more than I can say, humanly speaking, and I would not write to you this way did I not feel you are the only person who feels for my soul, as I feel for it myself, for we have both to give an account of it. This I can say, you are pure from my blood. Oh! may I still be your joy and crown of rejoicing in the last day; and may all your instructions not cast me deeper into hell. At other times I think I used to look at religion too much as a pleasure, and that having lost her with whom I used to enjoy this pleasure, it has lost much of its delight ... How very full of self you will think me, but I want your advice, and your constant earnest prayers, I was sorry to hear you had such a bad cold. I hope you have recovered your voice for this week, and that you have not given up your trip to London. We have been so much shut up by Lord P.'s illness, that I have not been able to hear many good preachers on week days, but hear Mr ... regularly on Sunday. Last Sunday I went to Mr. Howell's church, whom I liked very much, though his style is rather odd. He says very strong things, lowering the creature, and exalting the Saviour...
Forgive this long letter, and believe me,
Very affectionately and gratefully,
T. A. Powerscourt.
Letter 5.
September, 1823.
Dear Mr ..., I should have answered your kind letter before this, had I anything to tell you that could have given you any gratification. But alas! I have been as desolate within as without. My earthly husband hid from me, my heavenly one I cannot find; and Satan hard at work tempting me to say what is this black thing I have done, which makes my Father so angry with me. But oh my dear Lord, let him not rule within: quench his fiery darts: show me that I deserve far worse, even all the wrath of an offended God. But Jesus has "borne our griefs and carried our sorrows." These trials are only blessings to fill up that which is behind of his afflictions. I am also tempted to think, that I cannot be his, for I feel none of that comfort his children always feel, and I used to find in the hour of trial ... Jonah doest thou well to be angry? I will bear the indignation of the Lord, because I have sinned grievously against him. Oh dear Mr ..., you do not know, what it is to lose one so dear, so very dear; I can only compare it to the tearing asunder all the strings of the heart. Then such a gloomy prospect here the rest of one's life. After watching him day and night with so much anxiety, anticipating the joy of being allowed again to be with him; all at once so unexpectedly to have my hopes dashed from me, was what I did not think for some days, I could have borne, because I forgot that as my day so should my strength be. In any other loss I have had, I never could pray for the bodily life of my friend, but in this to which no other loss can be compared, night and day, I could not help entreating the Lord to spare me the heavy blow. I really did think he meant to answer me, and hoped against hope, till the last breath left that dear body ... But I know, O Lord, that thy judgments are right, and that in very faithfulness thou hast afflicted me — I must wait to know and see why it is, till I know as I am known. That it is unspeakable love, I have no doubt, because he who has sent it is no new friend, but a tried and precious one; and when it is good for me He will allow me to see that this God is Love. But oh I tremble when I look at my rebellion, and ingratitude, throughout it all. I have had much to show me myself this last year — to dig up the mud hid under the smooth surface. How it will astonish you — astonish angels, when the book of my sins is opened, except they are so blotted out with blood as to make them illegible.
I do not suppose there could be a stronger lesson of the vanity of every thing earthly than to look at me last year and this. The prospects of happiness I seemed to set out with! And now where are they? A living monument that man in his best estate is altogether vanity — and see how my heart, without my knowing it, was on earth. I could not have thought one who professes to believe in the joys of heaven, and had tasted the realization of them by faith, could so mourn, as one without hope, could so willingly call him back again. But I shall say no more, for these complaints only grieve my God, and annoy you. But, indeed, I am at times greatly oppressed, and feel this evening as if there were a parcel of devils within tearing me different ways, and refusing me any rest. I beseech you pray for me, and write to me,
Your unalterably affectionate
And grateful friend,
T. A. Powerscourt.
Letter 6.
February 18, 1824.
... How I shall long to join you all above. I fear I need patience, and find it hard to reconcile my mind to the possibility of my living three times as long as I have lived yet. When I look back upon a few months, and remember the happiness I used to feel when I expected my dearest love and ..., to spend the evening at ... and to have a little reading, I can hardly persuade myself that I am the same person. Two now in possession of what they then, blessed be God, enjoyed by faith, and I left alone. — But I forgot — r determined never to murmur again. It needs a great stretch of faith sometimes, when the enemy comes in like a flood, to believe that God is as much at peace with me through Christ, as with those already above; that Abraham now in glory is not safer than I am. Is that presumption, do you think? What a precious name, a strong tower, into which if we run, we shall be safe. Were I left to myself I should run from it. I would not trust myself to his word, but seek to save myself from danger. But almighty love arrests me, pulls me in; and then rewards me for coming. How much in those words, "are safe," to think we are safe from every thing! No evil shall ever touch us, evil at the end, or evil on the way. All paved with love; "all things shall work together for good." I have got the promise of all others I want — "let thy widows trust in me." I once wished there was a richer, sweeter promise to widows, but I believe it requires to be brought into different circumstances, in order to feel the force of different promises. For the Lord knew that none so suited widows, as these few words. In looking round the wide world, so filled with wickedness, and seeing one has to pass through it alone, one would fear every step one took so unprotected and forlorn, only for this promise. With this "when I am weak, then I am strong." It is not like him to invite us to trust in him, and then let any evil come nigh us. If his everlasting arms are underneath, I "shall dwell in safety alone." Let there be rebellions, revolutions, persecutions, earthquakes, anything, every thing, "let thy widows trust in me," should be enough. I know my tabernacle shall be in peace. Sweet to think that the eye of the Lord is upon us, to deliver our soul from death. It seems to me, as a nurse keeps her eye upon her child lest it should destroy itself, or as a keeper keeps his eye upon his poor lunatic, "the Lord is thy keeper." Then unbelief jumps up and says, how do you know all this is for you? Then I do not know what to say, but "my Master told me so." His Spirit witnesses with my spirit. He has given me the earnest of the spirit. To those who believe he is precious, and I think he is precious to me — "a bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me." Oh that I could keep close to him; I want to be fixed on the rock. My grief is, that the waves of sin and the-world give me so many shoves off it. Will not you pray for me, for I greatly need it; and will you not write to me, and exhort me with purpose of heart to cleave unto the Lord; and tell me if you think me presumptuous, or going wrong in any way. That old serpent is so cunning. Will you forgive me for speaking so much of myself, but speaking of what He can do for me, magnifies the power of his grace, more than if I was to speak of it with regard to any one else upon earth.
Yours with Christian affection,
T. A. Powerscourt.
Letter 7.
... All creation seems to be travailing to bring forth some mighty event, and poor Ireland is coming up in remembrance before God. Oh what are we, to be able to look any thing, every thing in the face, and know assuredly without a peradventure, that all is, shall, and must, work together, for our everlasting good; that had we sense, it is just what we should order for ourselves, to have fresh comfort in every fresh putting forth of his omnipotence, for this God is our God. Though even the earth should be shook to its very centre, though we might feel outwardly the curse of sin, yet no evil henceforth for ever can befall us, we shall only behold, and see from out of the cleft of the immoveable rock. From thence we may boldly challenge distress, persecution, etc. etc. our dwelling is the Most High. We may be thrown like a shuttlecock, from self to Satan, and back from Satan to self, till weary of both; but neither sin, self, or Satan, shall or can ever reach our lives, for they are hid with Christ. Because he lives we shall live also. What a happy confidence in such a world, to be able to look up, and say, my Lord and my God, and to know also the Captain of our salvation as our bosom friend. Whilst engaged in calling in his people from North, South, East and West, he does not forget those already within the fold, but comes and whispers them in the still small voice of his word; tells me, I shall never be forgotten, let his works be ever so stupendous; tells me, he cannot live in glory, and leave me behind; that the angel can no more swear, that time shall be no more, till the last of his elect shall be sealed on their foreheads, than his truth can fail. I think there is a danger in these times of the feelings being so kept alive by excitement, as to lead us to forget, that as we have received Christ, so we ought to walk in him, built up as well as rooted; stablished in the faith ...; so eager for the battle as to forget our armour. I trust you remember us, that you are often present with us in spirit, and pray without ceasing that we may stand complete in all the works of God, that he may set us as lights on a hill, by the splendour of our walk, illuminating many from the kingdom of darkness unto the kingdom of God's dear Son; that we may walk worthy of our high calling in all lowliness; that we may see in a degree with the eye of God, that we may live but for one end, that we may occupy till he come, reaching forward towards the prize, running the race set before us, looking unto Jesus; that we may have nothing to do with any pursuit or happiness ending in time; neither entangled with the cares, nor intoxicated by the fascinations of the world; and that every action of our lives may declare plainly, that our kingdom is not of this world. Pray that for us, and I will pray, that the answer may rebound into your soul...
With sincere Christian affection,
T. A. Powerscourt.
Letter 8.
January, 1826;.
I have to thank you for your other kind long letter. There is a certain drawing out of heart towards those who care enough for us, as to point out in what way we may be grieving our Lord. Your accusations, I fear, are quite just, and I hope I may have your prayers, that I may be enabled to walk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing. I think it is in the Lord, we are told to rejoice, a joy which can be felt while sorrowing, a good cheer in tribulation. I sometimes sit in astonishment why my cup should run over with this blessing, and I have more when the heart is brought low to receive it, than when it is (which is often the case) intoxicated. own I feel sometimes cast down and desolate, but not unhappy. I have had a deep, a very deep wound; the trial has been very severe; but how should I have known him as a brother born for adversity, without it. How should I prize him as my strength, if I am not sometimes left to feel my perfect weakness. The heart is too selfish not to drop a tear sometimes, but I hope no longer a rebellious one. The wound is closed, but very little bursts it open. The marble must be allowed to melt a little, but only enough to send to that good physician, who maketh sore, and bindeth up; he woundeth, and his hands make whole. I understand these lines,
"Cry and groan beneath afflictions,
Yet to dread the thoughts of ease."
However, if it is more to his glory, that I should take pleasure in the many blessings left in this world, dreary as it may seem through the glass of affliction, "behold I am here Lord," if to be kept low — even so. May I only be able to lay this soul as helpless on the great "I AM." And I can assure you, however appearances may contradict it, I have much joy and peace in believing, find life a flux and reflux of love; Jesus is precious to me. I find his banner of love extended over Edinburgh; his promises here also, are as honey dropping from the comb. There is not one on earth I desire but him; he is all my hope and all my salvation; and I can go on with confidence, knowing he can never deny himself or say "I never knew you," for he testifies not only that he knows me, but that he loves me, by enabling me to say, "thou knowest all things, thou knowest that I love thee."
Sometimes we appear such insignificant grasshoppers that it is hard to conceive that he can think of us and our foolish concerns; at other times one feels of such immense importance, that one wonders that Christians can live like other people, such as when we read of the burst of joy from the heavenly host, and find this the sign that their Lord whom they adore has become a despised babe, and all, because peace is brought to earth, and good will to man. Peace seems just what we want here, purchased by his blood, left as his legacy. What simplicity there seemed to be in his words after his resurrection. He seemed to enjoy the travail of his soul, when distributing his peace. May he impart largely of it to your soul, and while recommending the inexpressible treasure of his word to others, may you be enabled yourself to feed on it, by faith with thanksgiving. May he empty of his fulness into all our bosoms, and enable us by using, to show we value the privilege of drawing near to him, to tell him of fear the world cannot allay, of wants the world cannot satisfy, of blessings the world knows nothing of.
Your affectionate,
T.A. Powerscourt.
Letter 9.
... Is your happy soul still lifted up? able in His light to walk through darkness? I know the dreary waste that lies before you. How his dear, dear company is missed — how tasteless and insipid every thing appears — how you want that affection which entered into every trifle which concerned you — how you want an adviser, a protector, such a companion — one to weep when you weep — to rejoice when you rejoice. I know well what it is to lie down at night and say, where is he? — to awake in the morning and find him gone — to hear the hour strike day after day, at which you once expected his daily return home to his too happy fire-side — and find nothing but a remembrance that embitters all the future here. Oh my poor, poor ... if I cannot feel for you who can? — who so often partook of your happiness? — sweet precious time I have been allowed to enjoy with you both, but past. However, it is well that you have another to feel for you. If I know the meaning of the word sorrow, I also know of a joy a stranger intermeddleth not with. How tenderly our compassionate Lord speaks of the widow! as a parent who feels the punishment more than the chastened child. He seems intent to fill up every gap love has been forced to make; one of His errands from heaven was to bind up the broken-hearted. He has an answer for every complaint you may ever be tempted to make. Do you say you have none now to follow, to walk with, to lean on? He will follow you and invite you to come up from the wilderness leaning on him as your beloved. Is it that you want one to be interested in all your concerns? Cast all your cares upon him, for he careth for you — a protector? Let thy widows trust in me — an adviser? Wonderful Counsellor! Companion? I will not leave you comfortless; I will come unto you; I will never leave you, nor forsake you; I have not called you servants but friends; behold I stand at the door and knock, if any man hear my voice and open the door, I will come in unto him, and sup with him, and he with me. — One to weep with you? In all their affliction he was afflicted; Jesus wept. When you lie down — safe under the shadow of his wings, under the banner of His love. When you awake — still about your path and about your bed. It is worth being afflicted to become intimately acquainted, and to learn to make use of, the Chief of ten thousand — the altogether lovely — the brother born for adversity — the friend that sticketh closer than a brother — the friend of sinners. Pray write often to your poor sister; tell me every thing that interests you; do not let the children forget me...
Letter 10.
My dear Mr ..., Though he was a shining light by whom God was glorified, yet, I think, in him more than in others the power of God was manifested in the inner man; the mind that was in Christ was stamped on him; every disposition led captive to Jesus. But it required to live with him, and see him in every turn of life, to know how beautifully the Spirit was moulding him into the image of his Master. It appears to me, there were four graces peculiarly striking in his character, some of which you have mentioned.
First, his entire forgetfulness of self in every thing, (this was very remarkable), accompanied with a watchful attention to the wishes of others, a tenderness to their feelings, a fitting of himself into their prejudices, and, as far as he could, entering into their pursuits, so as by any means to win some.
Second, most striking trait, which I believe you have mentioned, but which those who knew him but little did not perceive, was a loathing of himself, as if he really felt sin a burden; but, at the same time, the most happy and simple confidence of his safety in Christ. It often reminded me of Isaiah 59. 19. He seemed to feel the evil heart as a flood which would overwhelm him, was not the soul continually directed to Christ crucified as to its resting place.
Third, is what you have already expressed much better than I can; such a thirst for truth upon every subject as enabled him to lay aside prejudice, and every impediment in the way, and made it visible that to reach and receive it was his object.
Fourth, we may say, the cause of his being so unlike his natural man, was his mind being kept in a continual turning to Christ, as the element in which he delighted. He was alive to spiritual subjects, should they be brought forward at any moment. Though zealously engaged in controversy with the enemies of truth; though enjoying with gratitude his social happiness; though necessarily occupied in much and different business, he was enabled to live alone, and seemed to have learned the difficult lesson of using the world without abusing it; like the needle, which may be turned from the pole by superior force, but when let loose, returns to its proper position; so with him, when the pressure of business was taken off his mind returned to his rest in God.
I fear, were I to say all I thought of him, I should draw a perfect character, for love covered all faults; and after all, the various graces of the Spirit were so blended, it is difficult to say which was most predominant. It might truly be said of him, that he adorned the doctrine of God his Saviour in all things. It is difficult, when speaking of a character so beloved, to exalt the Saviour, not the creature, to leave an impression that sin was all he could call his own; all that was lovely, the comeliness which Christ put on him.
This is a long note, but you know it is the property of women to multiply words, and express little...
Yours truly,
T. A. Powerscourt.
Letter 11.
... 1826.
... I think dear ... death was made a great blessing, which I fear has only taught me one painful lesson, that a blessing does not necessarily follow an affliction. I need not repeat, (for the Lord has already proclaimed it so loudly by sending affliction line upon line, affliction precept upon precept,) that no one needs trial more, no one needs so much of the Bible as I do, and on none do both tell so little. It requires all the energy of God to bend my will to his; and while it may be sometimes hard to be content with outward providences, it is still more hard to feel resigned to be what one is, not to wish for another's spirit, another's disposition; to be resigned to lie as a bit of clay in his hands without dictating the best way of being formed into a vessel fit for the master's use; satisfied with good as well as evil, knowing that what he has undertaken he is able to perform; hard to feel resigned to dishonour him, whom we adore, all our lives; to love His presence above every thing else put together, and yet, continually, by our own folly and neglect, lose it for trifles which we most despise; very hard to be resigned to oneself; to be ever worshipping, and placing, this Dagon in the temple of our beloved, and to be haunted by it wherever we go. I do think one chief part of our happiness hereafter will consist, in our having done with wretched self, God being all in all...
...Altered as that spot has been these last two years, I expect to find it still more so on our return. I did value more than I can utter that dear dear saint's visits; the prospect of them cheered the time of his absence; and even all unpleasantness was removed from all secular affairs by the interest and part he always took in my concerns. However, there is always but to the Christian. But now I hope to be cheered, in expecting the coming of the "altogether lovely," to be upheld by the interest, and part, he takes in all that concerns me. And if I know myself, my ambition is to live simply to His glory; to be a burning and a shining light, only that the splendour of my walk may bring glory to His name, to glorify him in spirit as well as body, which are altogether His, paid for by him. Soon we shall see him really ours; soon shall we join the company of the just made perfect, know, and perhaps be able to tell them, how every rough blast of human woe has hastened on our little bark to shore. In the mean time, may our Lord's blessing and presence, so interwoven with our comforts, rest upon you and ...
I am always a great egotist in my letters to you, because I fancy you feel an interest, at least, in the spiritual feelings of all your flock. Pray, write soon, and do not think, while you are writing, that you are losing time. I hope your throat is better. You have not the privilege of being afflicted for yourself alone, but for our consolation and salvation. My love to all who care about me.
Believe me my dear Mr ...
Yours, with true affection,
T. A. Powerscourt.
Letter 12.
Powerscourt, 1st February, 1826.
My dearest ..., So I must write and receive no answer; that is very hard indeed; if I thought, or could think, it could possibly give one moment's comfort to an afflicted saint, I should be more than resigned; how sweet it would be to be a cup of consolation in the temple of our God. Well! if I have not that privilege, I hope to be a vessel of mercy through eternity. Yes, the poor sinner would not, if he could, be saved any way but as he is. Our proud nature at first rebels against being objects of pity, we should prefer having salvation as those who had no need, rich and increased with goods; but when forced to throw down our arms of rebellion, and come as beggars, wretched, miserable, poor, blind, and naked, then we feel it is such a blessedness to be objects of pity to a God full of compassion, that we glory in our infirmities, because they bring us in contact with Him for every thing, food, clothing, etc. The greater our necessities the more we have to do with Him. How well you must know Him! How often he has strengthened you upon the bed of languishing! How he has made all your bed in your sickness! How often he has enabled you to carry your weak soul in the arms of faith, and lay it down on this resting place; His precious word, a bed of consolation stuffed with sweet and precious promises. I think the believer even while in the furnace, at the moment of experiencing that his trials are not joyous but grievous, feels so convinced He is doing all things well, that he would not have it otherwise, had he his choice; and such a desire has the new man to be made partaker of his holiness, to enjoy the peaceable fruits of righteousness, which these exercises produce, that he turns, and kisses the rod, saying Amen, deal with me as with a child. The poor world may have a reprieve here from suffering, but the child of God may not, would not if he might. Happy confidence, He will not lay on us one unneedful stroke, for as a father pitieth his children, etc. Happy confidence, he will not keep back one needful stroke, for he scourgeth them whom he loves, that he may receive them, even as a father the son in whom he delighteth. Is it not strange that the moment he is acting most the part of a parent, is just the moment we are most apt to forget we are his children; he tells us, we forget the exhortation that speaks to us as unto sons. It is pleasant, as he takes these precious relationships on himself, to take his at his word, and plead them before him; sweet to look up and say, Abba, Father; to leave all temporal concerns in his hands, because "our heavenly father knows we have need of them;" reminding him it is a father's part to provide for the want of his little ones. When we come to make known our spiritual wants, to remind him it is a father's feeling, to be willing to give all within his means; and, even, when we sin against him, depart, backslide, return base ingratitude for love, out of this depth, to whom shall we naturally look, but to our parent? As the prodigal, when confessing he was not worthy to be called his child, begins his sentence with "father." No, nothing can change this relationship. "Though Abraham be ignorant of us, and Israel acknowledge us not, thou, O! Lord, art our Father, our Redeemer; thy name is from everlasting." He will spare as a man spares his own son that serveth him; even though forced to speak against his dear son, his pleasant child, He earnestly remembered him still — his bowels were troubled for him; he could not help having mercy; and he will lead us also; cause us to walk by the rivers of waters in a straight way, wherein we shall not stumble — for he is a father to Israel; he will put on us the best robe in his wardrobe — the righteousness of Christ; he will give his greatest gift as a token of his love — his holy Spirit; he will cause us to be shod with the gospel of peace; when tempted to doubt his faithfulness, he points to David's feeling when crying out, O! Absalom my son, my son, would to God I had died in thy place; and appeals to our hearts, if David could have afflicted Absalom willingly; he points to what his servant Moses has left on record is to be expected from that parent, (Num. 11. 12.) that he should carry his sucking child in his bosom, and reminds us, by taking that relationship on him self, he has bound himself thus to act, and he will carry us in his bosom to the land of promise, and we shall not halt till He is wearied, nor fall till He stumbles; none shall pluck us out of his hands, till the arm of Omnipotence fails from weakness; no lion shall overtake, no enemy overcome, while the -everlasting arms are underneath, and the banner or love above. This is your portion and mine, dear fellow pilgrim. "Lord what is man that thou shouldst magnify him, that thou shouldst set thine heart upon him — that thou shouldst visit him every morning, and try him every moment;" and this to such as we, who require a fresh exercise of mercy every moment to keep us out of hell; yet, even here, to know while feeling a weight of sin pointing to the very heavens, that there is a heap of mercy reaching into the heavens, "built up for ever;" that neither past sin shall condemn, for his mercy is from everlasting; neither shall future, because his mercy is to everlasting, they have all been laid on him — carried off into the land of forgetfulness, never to be laid on us again, until east meets with west. Under the old dispensation, remembrance was made of sin every year, because, and to show, that the blood of bulls and of goats could never take away sin; but now, the very declaration so often repeated, that sin shall be remembered no more, proves the blood of Christ sufficient to cleanse from ALL sin. May we every day dive deeper into this unfathomable love, every day increase in the knowledge of this love that passeth knowledge, till filled with the fulness of God, moulded into the mind that was in Christ Jesus; and when he shall open his casket and display his treasures, may we, and all dear Christian friends, whom I long to see again in the flesh, be found among those who spake often one to another of his dear name, who thought upon it.
If such the views which grace unfolds,
Weak as it is below,
What rapture must the Church above
In Jesus' presence know!
when time shall be no more — the bustle past. By the by, what insignificant names our God uses when speaking of this life: — grass, flower, dust, wind, shadow, a leaf going to and fro a weaver's shuttle;... Scatter my good wishes around, particularly to ...
Believe me dear ...
Very affectionately yours,
T. A. Powerscourt.
Letter 13.
12th May 1826, Antrim Castle.
My dear friend — I put off writing till I should arrive at Powerscourt, expecting then to get a frank as my letters are not worth postage, but I can refrain no longer, thanking you and your dear sisters for your very great kindness to my children, etc. It was doubly gratifying, because any kindness shown to me, must be for my Master's sake. How manifestly His only aim is our happiness — witness, "this is my commandment, that ye love one another." We may well, then, trust it in his hands, who spared not His own Son. May we not lie like the helpless sheep on the shepherd's shoulder, content for him to carry through prosperity as well as adversity; through life, as well as death? Not only is our path already marked out by infinite wisdom and love, but has been trodden by the man of sorrow; be it ever so rugged, we still have the sweet comfort of tracing in it the footsteps of the Captain of our Salvation; every need-be pang, then, is but an echo from the inner sanctuary — "If ye suffer with Him ye shall be glorified together;" and as he entered the everlasting gates, triumphantly crying, "He is near that justifieth me, who shall contend with me?" So may his poor weak followers walk, saying, "who shall lay any thing to the charge of God's elect?" No one I think, who reads the Bible, can hesitate whether or not, it was written by one who knowing every distress, into which every believer from the beginning to the end would ever be brought, could provide a word in season for each, or whether or not, the fulness of the Godhead dwelt in that man, who, inviting all who labour and are heavy laden to come to him, could promise rest to their souls. And do we not need every consolation laid up, word upon word, promise upon promise. In order that our comfort may abound, He has so graciously left us dependant one upon another, and provided so many relations calculated to support on our way to him, and, yet, as if to show they all concentrated in one, he takes to himself the name of each. I love to think of him as a Father, for it is written, "What son is he whom the Father chasteneth not." And the heart feels assured that his tenderness will neither spare too much, nor will our rebellion prompt him to say, "Let it alone." While the compassion manifested in the very chastisement proves, as words cannot, that he does not afflict willingly, but as a father pitieth his children so he pities us; yet, to think with all this, that I should ever murmur! I who may well say, his love to me is a wonder to myself; and this too, while having tasted of his trial, I can, in a degree, sympathise with him, for I do think, he is never more wounded in the house of his friends than when they murmur. Nothing seems so to overcome his forbearance with the Israelites. O! then, dear ... may we be able to say under every circumstance to the full extent of the words, "The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want," resigned to live, or resigned to die, resigned to prosperity, or resigned to adversity, only, "Father glorify thy name."
To live is Christ! am I resigned to live
When Christ is with me, holds me by the hand,
Follows my footsteps, watches by my bed,
Bids the warm tear of grateful exultation,
Washing the stain the tear of sorrow leaves,
And makes some evil seem so like to good
I scarce can call it by another name.
I hope I am resigned the harder task to bear-
The plague of a rebellious heart,
To bear to wrong the Being I adore,
To love Him and yet forget Him, to desire
His Presence, more than all the things of earth,
And yet neglect and lose it for their sakes,
To seek for holiness and find but sin,
To war against myself and long to be-
Yet feel I am not-what my Maker is.
To die is gain! am I resigned to die?
IT IS NOT SO; that cannot be the word,
That speaks the Christian's feelings when she hears
The distant sound of her Redeemer's foot
Hasting to fetch her to her Father's throne;
When the first beam from heaven's unclosing gate
Falls on her path, to light her to her home,
And angel's voices vibrate on her ear
Preparing songs to greet her welcome there.
Could you see the heart turned inside out as God sees, you would join in exclaiming unworthy, unworthy; may it be written as of Ephraim of old, "his iniquity is bound up, his sin is hid." I trust my visit to Edinburgh has given me a spur in hasting unto the coming of our Lord. I do not feel friendship the same as I once did. I used to feel my pleasures here were increased. Now I feel my tale is told, and ties of friendship are drawing towards an hereafter, while we are only left in Satan's kingdom, for the Lord to finish his work in us and by us. For this end it seems to me, we should watch, the old serpent's aim to resist, and Christ's to further; the aim of the former seems to he to drive closer and closer to self, and even when his hopes are frustrated of getting the believer to fall down and worship this idol, he strives with it to muddle his comfort. Does not the aim of our dear Lord seem to be to give strong consolation to those who have fled for refuge to the hope set before them? Let us then further this end, not only by opening our mouths wide for ourselves, but by declaring on the house-top what is whispered in our ear in the closet, and by testifying to our poor fellow pilgrims, that in our experience we have found, "faithful is he that hath promised."
Some of my friends accuse me of writing very uncomfortable letters; but I say, if you want to hear of me, you will find my future life folded up in that verse, "all shall work together for good," and only let me speak of my beloved. But this I must say, although I have quarrelled with evidences, one is now staring me in the face, in the love I feel towards you, dear ... it is such as a stranger intermeddleth not with.
Yours, dear friend, with cordial affection,
T. A. P.
Letter 14.
Glenart, October 1827.
My very dear sister in the Lord — Is it not true that we are very often a wonder to ourselves, think of my having a friend in the world. that I believe would not think a letter from me troublesome, yet that I can be one or two months, only intending to write, even though by doing so I might hope for a letter in return! I trust you open that door for many, into which if any enter, they are saved. I hope you are able to go in and out yourself, finding rich pasture. O! that our hearts were always bubbling up, boiling with this matter, like wine which hath no vent, ready to burst its bottles, constrained to speak about our King. O! that He so dwelt in our hearts by faith, that out of their abundance, our speech might be as spikenard sending forth its pleasant smell, ointment pouring forth his name, that this good treasure, this mine of wealth might be continually emptying itself in consolations into our own bosoms, and enriching all around. But who is this King! that we should leave all other subjects to speak of him? the Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in our battles, the Lord of Hosts, the King of glory. — My Lord, who sits at the Lord's right hand, till every evil in my heart shall become his footstool. — The King, who in spite of the heathen raging, the kings of the earth standing up, the rulers taking counsel against him, shall be set on the holy hill of Sion. — A King who has come to his people in a chariot paved with love. — A King with many crowns, the most radiant, the most becoming of which, is the one he received in the day of his espousals, Cant. 3.2. — A King whose greatest glory is his bride, that he has overcome and new created the sinner, betrothed and united himself to such for ever. — A king who in the day of the gladness of his heart shall stretch forth his hand to you and me, and say in presence of men, angels and devils, "come ye blessed of my Father," etc. — A king who has himself prepared the kingdom, who by the love tokens he distils on us day after day, viz. by his dispensations, and his consolations, proves he has considered our frame, knows what will satisfy, even to enter into the joy of our Lord, who having prepared a kingdom that will satisfy!!! is now preparing us for it. — A king who has enriched his church by his poverty, nourished it by his riches; in a word, Jesus of Nazareth, the king of the Jews. Say, dear friend, have we not volumes to unfold respecting this king; why then so often do we spend our time, while in company with our fathers' children, talking on subjects we despise and consider trifles; is it not because out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks? Alas! how grievously have I to accuse myself on this point; m nothing do I feel so dependant, and when I do speak, how many double triple motives; how often seeking self instead of Jesus, proved by silence before those who dislike it; how often ashamed of him, how often irritated when opposed; how often playing with the subject; how little feeling what I speak; how humbling; how astonished you would be, did you know me; all the love of angels and saints put together, could not have patience with me. . He alone could silent stand, and wait to show his love. Surely it is no hard demand is required only to be loving subjects, and how gracious where he demands this; He does not call on us to love an unknown friend, but with his own pencil has drawn for us the object to be loved. Two questions are natural when called to give our affections. 1st. What sort of person is he? 2nd. What is his mind towards me? Let us hear what answer God has given. What sort of person? "chiefest among ten thousand," "fairer than the children of men," "altogether lovely," "as the apple tree among the trees of the wood," not only "the first born of every creature" but "the image of the invisible God, the brightness of his glory, the express image of his person," even God himself, who made and upholds all things in heaven and earth. What does Peter say, when he was the witness of his majesty? What does John, when he saw him standing in the midst of the seven golden candlesticks? Every knee bows to his name, every tongue shall confess him Lord, for He is holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners, this is our King. But what is his mind towards us? "full of grace and truth;" out of his fulness ever emptying grace upon grace. His words to us are powerful, to overcome by love, a sharp two edged sword, yet as the sound of many waters, "most sweet" , as lilies dropping sweet-smelling myrrh; "never man spake as he spake," gave his enemies testimony; for they "wondered at the gracious words which proceeded out of his mouth." This is your beloved, and friend, as well as king, who has grace poured into his lips on purpose to speak a word in season to the weary; blessed weariness which brings a word from him; sweet to have our beloved, our king; comfortable to be able to say, my Jesus reigns; with what confidence we may lay ourselves back in his arms, and say "undertake for me;" blessed to be one with him whom God has blessed for ever; blessed to have our salvation and his glory bound up in the same bundle. Blessed to know he has gone through every class in our wilderness-school. Are you satisfied with this King? for he is your King for ever and ever, may our repose in him answer the question. Are you contented to have him, and leaving all others to cleave only to him? for this beloved is yours, and you are his; may the devotedness of our affections, lives, and words, answer, "Lord thou knowest all things, thou knowest that I love thee." And O may we be kept from acting as one who is ashamed of his choice.
"Rather may this our glory be,
That Saviour not ashamed of me."
My eyes are not at all better, though at times more comfortable; the last fortnight I have suffered much with them, and a lump has appeared upon the good eye, but I trust it may go away again without making me quite blind; at all events I have a light that shines in darkness, that nothing can take from me; in his light shall I see light, even see him who is invisible.
Believe me, my very dear friend, now and ever your warmly affectionate sister in everlasting bonds,
T. A. P.
Letter 15.
Powerscourt, 26th July, 1828.
My very dear friend — I do not know where you are, but I think you must imagine, I have bade an eternal farewell to everything below, so long have I been answering your letters; but there is one you may write to, who will be sure to answer immediately. Our life should be, I conceive, a continual interchange of care for peace. I saw some of your friends in London; we hoped to see ... but it seems to have been a false report that she was coming to London. Oh! reality, reality, how immense all before us, yet how we shrink from apprehended evil, though we know Him too well to take one single want out of his hand. His will, nothing but his will... We have a wonderful advertisement of a physician, from the Spirit of truth, "who healeth all thy diseases;" we who know something of the plague of a human heart, can understand in a measure how great the undertaking. He says himself "come unto me all ye that labour, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." He must have foreseen every weight his people ever should be burdened with, when he undertakes to give rest to all, and truly he does, for he himself carried all our sicknesses. Can he heal hearts wounded with guilt and care? wounded with rebellious murmuring at his dispensations, and coveting what he has withheld, delighting in broken cisterns, as though they were the fountain of living waters? Can he heal hearts of wandering and distracted maniacs; maniacs ever engaged in taking poison? Can He heal the bruises of our falls, the dislocations of our backslidings, wounds corrupt through foolishness? It is written, "who healeth all thy diseases;" it made little difference in the days of his flesh, what the disease was, that was brought to him, palsied, maimed, blind, deaf, possessed, dying, dead. Then let us come in the simplicity of sickness, in the helplessness of want; to trust is to be healed, to touch the hem of his garment is to be whole; but let us keep touching him, for virtue is ever coming from him; he waits to apply all the virtues of heaven's dispensary to our case whatever it be; he is master of that disease, we have all his promise, all his skill, all his power, all his love; his skill is infinite, his compassion boundless; though ascended to heaven, he has left his heart on earth; he gives US all his attention, as if there was none else to think of on earth. He requires but one thing, to take all he has prescribed, BITTER as well as SWEET. Dear ... let us put a blank into his hand for time, and for every thing, confident that with him he has freely given us all things. Is there one thing we would keep back? Let that be just the thing to commit with most anxiety; we need the substance of things hoped for, to be put in the scale of judgment and conscience, against the things of time; then as surely as substance outweighs shadow, so surely must we judge of things accurately, till all our sorrows shall be left behind; and from the Jerusalem above, we shall be able to trace his hand leading us by ways we knew not, to the manifesting and magnifying of his faithfulness and grace. Then shall we see how contemptible were all our fears, when omniscience which foresaw, omnipresence that prevented, and omnipotence that laughed them to scorn, were on our side. Let us get well acquainted with our physician; let us take lodgings in his neighbourhood; let us see him every day; let us hide nothing, but open to him our whole case, and say as David when under his care, "let me hear what God the Lord will say to me;" and let us venture on his testimony, who declares him to be our peace, for "he forgiveth all our sins, and healeth all our diseases." Mr. Howels said one day, speaking of this beloved physician, where was Jesus educated? where did he graduate? He was educated in the Lazar-house of human suffering, and he took his degree in the infirmary of the human heart — whenever he visits a patient He says, this sickness is not unto death; He is not only the physician, but he is also the medicine of the soul. History tells us of a queen who, when her husband was wounded by a poisoned arrow, extracted the venom with her own lips, at the risk of her life. Our physician has done more — He has extracted the poison of sin, which the bite of the serpent infused into our constitution, at the expense of his life. He has carried all his human sympathies into heaven, and He never ceases to exercise them; we can sometimes look back upon a scene of suffering, or of trial which was exquisitely painful at the time, but there was no diminution of sympathy in the breast of our physician. The trial was appointed or permitted in Love; and we shall soon see that it formed part of a merciful design which was superintended and tempered by the physician himself. Dear ... how well you know him, since he is just suited to our need. Have we not cause to glory in our need then? nor can I wish anything for you, but that you should be exactly in the state this letter shall find you, for "he performeth that which is appointed" for you. He who appointed life and glory to be the end, has also appointed this condition, that affliction, for the way. He has predestinated us to be conformed to the image of his Son, that He may have the pre-eminence in all things; therefore "He makes all things work together for our good, for He is of one mind, and who shall turn him? What his soul desires, that He does, therefore we know we shall be like him when He shall appear. If you are in darkness, light is sown for you; you are still on the way to perfection, learning not to make idols of your feelings, treading in his steps, who was made perfect by suffering, and who never travelled with such velocity to perfection, as when He cried out "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me." I long to hear from you again; tell me what you think of dear ...
Believe me, my very dear friend,
Truly affectionately yours,
T. A. P.
Letter 16.
Glenart, 1827.
My dear Mrs ..., I have many apologies to make for having so long neglected answering your inquiries, but thought should I defer it until my arrival here, I might be able to have a comfortable few moments' intercourse with you on paper; not but that I might at ... but those who are cumbered about much serving, or fancy they have much to serve in, are especially cumbered when leaving home for a few days. Blessed to have our thoughts and joys not only "packed up," but gone before. Well to have all our riches in moveable goods, that like the present Jews, we may be ready to be off to Jerusalem at a moment's warning. I cannot answer your question till I talk to you a little about our dear, dear, friend. Stop! are we sure He is our friend? yes, for he is the friend of sinners. His name is the refuge of the oppressed — the helper of the needy, no particular need specified, for be it what it may, He has a help, even himself. In the world, tribulation, (oh how deep a word,) in me, peace. No oppression too trifling, no need too great, He who is our refuge, knows our frame; He knows the disorder of every little nerve, can cause even a voice or a step to be an oppression — so foolish the oppression, as hardly to allow it to ourselves, yet may we run from it, and hide ourselves in him, a refuge even from ourselves. What can be our need when our help is the God of Jacob, a covenant God, who keepeth truth for ever; when our hope is in him who made heaven and earth, the sea and all that is in them? How beautiful the 146th Psalm, where we see, His greatness consists in being just fitted for the oppressed, the hungry, the prisoner, the blind, the bowed down, the stranger, the fatherless, yes, and the widow. You ask me if I have read Romaine on Canticles? No, never! but the Spirit has, I think, expounded to me some of the verses when doing his office as Comforter, and I sometimes think none can so enter into the emphasis of feeling expressed in that book, as the widow, for none so know the preciousness of any blessing, as those who have lost it — how much more that blessing, without which even paradise was not complete; and if when all was peace, and joy, and love, man needed one to bear his part in bliss, Oh! how much more when care and sorrow fill our hearts with anguish and our eyes with tears. Who can so value that everlasting is, and am, as one who is every turn forced to remember, my beloved was mine, and I was his; yet happy helplessness, blessed difficulties, which bring to our assistance such a helper. There is hardly, I believe, a name implying poverty and want in the creature, and strength for this poverty in himself, that he does not take — father, brother, friend, prophet, priest, king, physician, help, health, refiner, light, life, counsellor, guide, anchor, sanctuary, all in all, our portion for ever — but the most wonderful endearing and sufficient, is this, the husband of his church, or rather the bridegroom, (his name in this sacred song) for the marriage supper of the Lamb is not yet come, the bride not being yet ready. Speaking lately to ... of those verses you mention, this verse seemed to me particularly sweet. "Who, is this that cometh up from the wilderness leaning on her beloved?" True, the church is in the wilderness, but it is only for an appointed time; her place has been prepared of her God; she is fed, she is not forgotten, she is on her way up, and she has a strong support. (Rev. 12. 6.) Her very situation makes her feel protection, support, and consolation needful, but it is in order that she may trust for all in her beloved, and in doing so, find perfect peace; for "in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength;" her very helplessness forces her to prove his faithfulness, power, and tender watchfulness. The stronger she leans, the more she knows of Him in whom she has believed, and if her sense of infirmities had not obliged her to have recourse to foreign strength, never could she have learned to say, "most gladly will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me". "Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in necessities, etc., for when I am weak, then am I strong." But while every thing around is saying, "arise, this is not thy rest," how marvellous that we need afflictive line upon line, precept upon precept, to remind us we are in the wilderness, so heavily we go to reach eternal joys. Oh, how dull we are in learning difficult dependant lessons! how many rebukes, chastisements, reproachful looks, we learn from our patient Master, before we can be persuaded to accept of happiness in leaning on him! Surely, the malignity of sin is no where so visible as in the bosom of the child of God. Satan sins not in spite of light, love, and knowledge — redeeming love. It is truly humbling, that nothing less than God can make us understand what is plain, desire what is good, avoid what is evil; how much more so is it, that at the very moment our judgment tells us, there is but one path of pleasantness and peace, at the moment conscience is convincing us how grievous and bitter a thing it is to depart from our God, when past experience with an enlightened understanding unite in exclaiming, "To whom shall we go, thou hast the words of eternal life; even at that very moment, nothing less than an Almighty spirit can make us will, not to forsake the fountain of living water which we have tasted, and to hew out with labour, to our misery, cisterns, broken cisterns, that hold no water. Oh! let us beware of our first neglect of our Lord. Our beloved can bear any thing better than neglect. Let us with John, lean on the bosom of Jesus; there learn love, as he learned it. Thus shall the mind be in us that was in Christ; for love is the fulfilling of the law. I did hear something lately unbecoming a Christian, of ... and in dwelling on it, I hope to benefit myself; for it is a point, alas, I particularly fail in, as, no doubt, you have observed. I mean, speaking severely of God's children, forgetting that he that toucheth them toucheth the apple of his eye; that words aimed at them, pierce him; that all is laid at the charge of that cause for which we profess to live, and to be willing to die. I think we should be very sure of an action, before we speak of it, which we do not consider commendable, and not then unless for good...
Letter 17.
October 23, 1827.
... Often, often has Satan stopped my way, not only by the idea that those I spoke to might think I practised what I said, but because I found hid in some chamber of imagery a desire that they should think so; but at last I found out the idea came out of Satan's opiate box. Some lessons we do not learn till after long experience, such as these: — First, we are not to do evil that good may come. Second, when sin lies heavy on our conscience, we are to force ourselves into the presence of God — not skulk from him, etc. Third, we are not to flee from Satan, but resist, in order that he may flee from us; blessed to be under the Lord's teaching, to be trained up by him in the way we should go, to have Jesus representing God to us, representing us to God, to have Jesus interceding for the sinner with God, to have the Spirit interceding for God with the sinner. Blest to be rising in his school, though every class presents a more difficult lesson. Blessed to have a waste heart, to feel it a wilderness, a desert fitted to receive and rejoice in such promises as this, (true with regard to us though stolen from Jews,) "The Lord shall comfort thee; he shall comfort all thy waste places; he will make thy wilderness like Eden, thy desert as the garden of the Lord," "Joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgi