BX 7 79 5 .H94 A4 1844 
 Hutchinson, Jonathan, 1760- 
 1835. 
 
 Extracts from the letters o 
 Jonathan Hutchinson 
 
« 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2015 
 
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EXTRACTS 
 
 FROM 
 
 THE LETTERS 
 
 OP 
 
 / 
 
 JONATHAN HUTCHINSON, 
 
 WITH SOME 
 
 BRIEF NOTICES OF HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 HARVEY AND DARTON, GRACECHURCH-STREET, 
 
 MDCCCXLIV. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT, 
 
 It seems due to the reader of this volume, and to the memory of Jona ■ 
 THAN Hutchinson, to prefix a little biographical information con- 
 cerning him : this must necessarily be very brief, from the few incidents 
 ■vvhich his life presented. It is the less needful that much should be at- 
 tempted as descriptive of character, because our beloved and honoured 
 friend possessed in a remarkable manner the talent of conveying to his 
 correspondents his mental feelings, his joys and conflicts. His letters 
 are written in the confidence of friendship : but I believe that had he 
 been consulted he would have freely left his friends at liberty to give a 
 more extended circulation after his decease, to this disclosure of his 
 opinions and his religious experience, if they thought that by so doing 
 the Christian traveller would be warned, encouraged, or helped in his 
 pilgrimage towards an eternal inheritance. In the hope that to more 
 than a few they will prove in this way both acceptable and instructive 
 they are now offered to the candid perusal of the public. 
 
The following particulars of the early part of the life ot 
 Jonathan Hutchinson are extracted from a short manu- 
 script of his own writing, found after his decease. 
 
 " I was born at Gedney, in the county of Lincoln, on 
 the seventh of the second month, 1760; where, as I 
 have been informed, my ancestors had resided for many 
 generations, in the occupation of farmers, the only busi- 
 ness that I ever followed. It also appears that a part o^ 
 the family from which I was descended, joined the religious 
 society of Friends soon after its rise. 
 
 '* But though thus inheriting the privileges of rural retire- 
 ment, and the simplicity of pastoral life, — educated too in 
 the principles of an excellent Christian profession, yet that 
 interesting and dangerous portion of my life, between 
 leaving school and manhood, was strongly characterized 
 by the sins aud follies to which youth and inexperience 
 are so peculiarly liable ; — whilst its succeeding stages, 
 even the most happy and favoured of them, have, in my 
 own view at least, been remarkable for their weakness, 
 unworthiness, and vicissitude ; so much so, that through- 
 out the whole of my probationary course there have been 
 certain critical and eventful periods, wherein my sufferings 
 of body and mind have been such, as to leave me but just 
 in possession of life and sense. Yet on this solemn retro- 
 spect, I find nothing to complain of but fallen self, acted 
 upon by a delusive world, and an unwearied spiritual ad- 
 versary. 
 
 " I therefore would not ' charge God foolishly,' seeing that 
 
 A 2 
 
iv 
 
 in all, and through all, his kindness and forbearance 
 towards me have been extended in a manner equally un- 
 merited and incomprehensible to my own understanding ; 
 and, like many other parts of his government, both in na^ 
 ture and grace, they appear to admit of no other pos- 
 sible solution than is to be found in this scriptural declara-* 
 tion, ' The ways of the Lord are higher than our ways, and 
 his thoughts than our thoughts.' 
 
 " I do not remember having been favoured in my early 
 years with the tendering visitations of Divine love, either 
 so often or so powerfully as we find recorded of divers 
 religious persons ; but I seem rather to have been left to 
 explore in much solitude the depth and the misery of 
 fallen natnre in its greatest bitterness ; so that before I had 
 attained the twentieth year of my age, the enemy of all 
 good possessed a fearful ascendancy over me. But whilst 
 in many instances he led me captive at his will, yet as in 
 the case of poor Job, his power was limited ; and he was 
 not permitted, as was evidently his design, to complete the 
 destruction both of my body and soul, which by the inter- 
 posing arm of Israel's God, were mercifully preserved, and 
 marvellously delivered from the last effort of his cruel and 
 malignant grasp. 
 
 " For after many sore and ineffectual conflicts, in which 
 hope at length had taken its departure, I was favoured 
 with so convincing an evidence that God desireth not the 
 death of a sinner, as that my heart was strongly inclined 
 towards a state of subjection and obedience to Him. But 
 though thus made willing, the performances of my appre- 
 hended duty have ever been so poor and humiliating, as to 
 give me occasion with deep feeling to respond to this Ian- 
 
V 
 
 guage of David : ' Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but 
 unto thy name give glory, for tliy mercy, and for thy 
 truth's sake.' Amen and amen ! saiih a soul which thou 
 hast indeed brouglit out of a horrible pit, and taught to 
 sing thy praise. 
 
 " The first vocal prayer I remember having uttered, was 
 extorted from me by distress, when, in a kneeling attitude, 
 I was preparing to cut some hay for cattle. The purport 
 of it may serve to show the darkness and doubt of the 
 heart from which it burst, like water from the rock when 
 smitten by the rod of Moses ; it was brief, being compre- 
 hended in these few emphatic words, ' If there be a God in 
 heaven, I pray Thee help me.' " 
 
 In a review of a remarkable visitation which he had 
 experienced, he thus wrote some years after its occur- 
 rence : — " The visitation of Divine love and mercy, which 
 thou wast favoured with in thy lonely journey, appears 
 to have been a very precious one indeed, and has reminded 
 me much of that whicli, as perhaps I have before told 
 thee, about fourteen years ago, as I was riding alone 
 on the highway, completed, as I am willing to hope, a 
 conversion which had previously been most unstable and 
 wavering; or rather shall I say which rescued me from the 
 jaw of the lion and paw of the bear, and placed my poor 
 soul in a capacity to endeavour to know and to do the 
 will of God. Since that eventful crisis in my spiritual 
 history, I tliink I have never absolutely turned my back on 
 the way whicli appeared to be cast up for me, nor wilfully 
 departed from my God ; though I have had some conflicts, 
 and have yet at times so feelingly to deplore the remaining 
 weaknesses of my nature, that even this very morning I 
 
vi 
 
 could only find access to the footstool of mercy by loath- 
 ing and abhorring all that could properly be called myself, 
 as in dust and ashes. But what a favour it is when, even 
 through the deepest humiliations, peace is restored to the 
 sorrovpful or wounded spirit ! " 
 
 In the early period of his life, when our beloved friend 
 had scarcely attained manhood, he underwent a very close 
 trial in the death of an amiable young woman, whom he 
 tenderly loved. This attachment was mutual ; they were on 
 the point of marriage, but she was taken ill of the small-pox, 
 and rapidly sunk away. She lived in a distant part of the 
 country, and he scarcely reached her residence before her 
 earthly race was run. Thus were his fond and early hopes 
 blighted. This sorrow came upon him when, to use his 
 own words, he was " as a bullock unaccustomed to the 
 yoke;" but through the mercy of his heavenly Father, 
 the dispensation was blessed. He saw the vanity of his 
 past course, and was enabled to take a more correct esti- 
 mate of the end of his being, its object, and its duties. 
 We have scarcely any particulars of many of the succeed- 
 ing years of his life : he settled down in his native village, 
 and pursued his ordinary avocations in life as a grazier ; his 
 attachment to the principles and practices of our religious 
 Society increased, and he was respected and beloved by his 
 friends ; but a full surrender of his heart to the government 
 of the Holy Spirit had not been made, and hence he did 
 not show forth that consistency of Christian character 
 which was afterwards conspicuous in him. 
 
 About ten or twelve years after the event already referred 
 to, he entered into married hfe with Rachel Procter 
 of Selby. The enjoyment of this connexion was not of 
 
VII 
 
 very long duration. In 1808 lie was deprived of bis be- 
 loved companion, and left with a family of young children. 
 They had been closely united; and she was taken from 
 him after a very short and painful illness ; this bereave- 
 ment was acutely felt by his sensitive mind. 
 
 In the course of the following year, whilst attending 
 upon that devoted servant of Christ, Deborah Darby, who 
 was with her companion on a religious visit in the neigh- 
 bourhood, he first spoke as a minister of the Gospel. His 
 ministry " was not in many words, but under a feeling of 
 Divine requiring, and it found great acceptance with his 
 friends." To this short, but full testimony of the Friends of 
 his Monthly Meeting, who knew him long and well, they 
 further add, that he " was greatly beloved by them, and in 
 a particular manner by those who knew the most of him ; 
 his humility and condescending kindness to his friends 
 greatly endeared him to them. He was a truly valuable 
 and most affectionate husband, a kind and watchful father, 
 and to his neighbours generally, but particularly to the 
 poor; his attention to their tried situations and relief of 
 their wants, were very frequent and acceptable." 
 
 It may be further remarked, that his ministry was much 
 valued by his friends generally. It was delivered in much 
 simplicity and religious feeling, short, but comprehensive, 
 and in that Gospel authority which rendered it both in- 
 structive and edifying to the assembly. His public petitions 
 at the throne of grace were solemn and reverent, in few 
 words ; and being offered in the Spirit, often tended to 
 spread a spirit of supplication over the meeting. 
 
 In private intercourse with his friends, his society was 
 
vin 
 
 much valued. His conversation was instructive ; he was 
 particularly careful not to reflect upon the failings of 
 others ; his own personal trials and constitution of mind 
 gave a seriousness, but not a gloom to his general deport- 
 ment ; and his gentle retiring manners, blended with 
 Christian independence and politeness, endeared him to 
 his friends, whilst it led them to treat him with respect and 
 deference. He was peculiarly qualified to share with those 
 in trouble, and ready to manifest his sympathy, whether 
 these troubles arose from mental conflict or adverse circum- 
 stances. 
 
 A near relative, who from his early life was permitted 
 to share his friendship, thus writes of his honoured uncle. 
 " To the youth he loved to address himself ; and to this 
 important class, both on solemn religious occasions, and 
 during the hours of social enjoyment, he rendered himself 
 particularly attractive. His lively recollections of the feel- 
 ings incident to their age ; his charitable allowance for 
 unintentional failings; his discriminating judgment and 
 unceasing courtesy, while they commanded admiration, 
 softened, enlarged, and edified the hearts of his juvenile 
 friends. If they were of a literary turn, his knowledge of 
 the best authors furnished him with subjects congenial to 
 their taste. If conversation of a more general character 
 prevailed, he enriched it with the observations of a Chris- 
 tian philosopher, and was admirably qualified to give an 
 improving direction to what might otherwise have degene- 
 rated into trifles. If rural affairs were preferred, as a 
 practical agriculturist he would often prove interesting, 
 and seldom failed to secure their attention. If they en- 
 
fx 
 
 joyed the beauties of nature, he enjoyed them also, in no 
 ordinary degree, and wilhngly imparted tlie fruits of his 
 careful observation and pious reflection. 
 
 " In these conversations, which I have often listened to 
 with delight, his own admiration of a beneficent Creator, 
 as discovered in the rich variety of his works, habitually 
 led him to excite a similar feeling in the minds of others. 
 A shell, a stone, or a seemingly insignificant plant, fur- 
 nished him with subjects on which instructively to dilate : 
 for he loved to lead his hearers from created beauty, to 
 reflect on that perfection which was without beginning, 
 and will have no end. The productions and operations of 
 nature he viewed as so many evidences of a wise and be- 
 neficent Being, who though perpetually opposed by his 
 rebellious creatures, has mercifully designed and provided 
 for the happiness of alL Possessing such sentiments, it 
 may easily be supposed, that the rural avocations to which 
 he had been trained, inspired him with pleasures unknown 
 to those of less cultivated minds. Through the fine old 
 ashes in front of his windows, (which he sometimes appro- 
 priately denominated the trees of his forefathers,) how 
 often have I seen him gaze with solemn admiration on 
 the splendour of a setting sun, or behold with similar emo- 
 tion the magnificence of a starry sky !" 
 
 The subjoined memorandums, written at different inter- 
 vals, appear worthy of being preserved. 
 
 " 1808, 6 mo. 26. — As many words of our own prevent 
 our hearing distinctly the outward voice of others, so 
 do the cogitations of the mind prevent our distinguish- 
 ing those spiritual motions, and hearing that still, small 
 
 A 5 
 
X 
 
 voice, by which our individual rehgious duties are disco- 
 vered to us : therefore the necessity of silence in both 
 cases. 
 
 " As it is perfectly consistent with every divine attribute 
 that there should be, so I verily believe there is an imme- 
 diate spiritual intercourse between the soul of man and its 
 Creator, by which communication his soul is introduced 
 into unity with its Divine source, and into sympathy with 
 its fellow-creatures, — is informed, chastised, or comforted, 
 suffers or reigns, according as its state, and the state of 
 others may require. 
 
 " It seems as if there was at times an exercise on behalf 
 of others produced in the mind, which, hke the wind that 
 bloweth when and where it listeth, cometh on and goeth 
 off we scarcely know how ; and yet the sound of it is 
 heard with sufficient clearness to warrant our moving 
 under its influence in religious endeavours to promote the 
 glory of our Creator, and the spiritual good of mankind. 
 
 " 1808, 8 mo. 2. — It occurred to me this morning, whilst 
 engaged in mental retirement and prostration of soul 
 before Him who scrutinizes not only our actions but our 
 thoughts, and whose piercing eye divides as it were between 
 joints and marrow, and penetrates into the inmost recesses 
 of our deceitful hearts, that to affect the use of high-flown, 
 and what are called learned expressions, for the sake of 
 displaying either our natural or acquired abilities, or to 
 please the itching ears of men, is equally reprehensible 
 with the use of gay clothing, or sumptuous furniture, and 
 
xi 
 
 is only another shape of pride and ostentation; and of this 
 fault, O my soul, thou hast great need especially to beware. 
 
 Sitting at breakfast, my mind was bowed in thankful- 
 ness for the plentiful and comfortable table, which Provi- 
 dence in the riches of his bounty enables me to spread for 
 my dear children, whilst thousands of perhaps far more 
 worthy receivers are not so amply provided for; — which 
 humbles me under a deep sense of the very inadequate re- 
 turns I seem able to make, though I hope I feel some de- 
 gree of that contrition of heart, which He condescends 
 not to despise. 
 
 1826, 6 mo. 17. — I love to contemplate the Deity in 
 the threefold character under which He has condescended 
 to reveal himself for the benefit of lost and sinful man, as 
 Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; but I seem the most pro- 
 foundly to adore Him, as an infinite and incomprehensible 
 unity — an ineffable and unapproachable glory, — an un- 
 utterable and incommunicable name. ' I am that I am,' 
 said the Lord to Moses. (Exod. iii. 14.) 
 
 " 1828, 2 7no. 23. — On a view of the weakness and cor- 
 ruption of human nature, abstractedly considered, my poor 
 mind has at seasons been brought to the borders of de- 
 spair ; so that I have even been almost discouraged from 
 lifting up either my eyes or my hands towards heaven, by 
 a fear of hypocrisy, and under the solemn consideration, 
 that the very thoughts of the wicked are an abomination 
 to the Lord. Yet when by this humbling process I 
 have become so far reduced as to prostrate myself at 
 
xii 
 
 the footstool of Dirine mercy, as a helpless, hopeless 
 sinner, my plea, though ofttimes a silent one, has not been 
 rejected by the sinner's Friend. ' He will regard the 
 prayer of the destitute, and not despise their prayer.' He 
 has had compassion on me ; and blessed be his holy name 
 for ever, has raised the beggar from the dunghill, and per- 
 mitted me again to live in liis sight. And let not such an 
 experience as this appear strange to the reader, see- 
 ing • no man can keep alive (unto God) his own 
 soul.' 
 
 " ] 828, 4 mo. 15. — As the bullock unaccustomed to the 
 yoke is generally impatient at its being laid upon him, so 
 man under the early visitations of affliction, or the first 
 restraints of the cross, is uneasy at their weight, and reluc- 
 tant to bear them. Resistance, however, proving vain, and 
 only increasing the suftering, submission is at length re- 
 sorted to, as affording the only prospect of relief ; and 
 well it is for us when we are thus wise, as death or destruc- 
 tion might be expected to follow an unavailing and conti- 
 nued opposition. ' Who may stand in thy sight when 
 once thou art angry?' And when this submission, an- 
 other name for resignation, is accompanied by prayer, then 
 our trouble, whatever be its nature, becomes transformed 
 into the light and easy yoke of Christ Jesus our Lord. 
 Through his assistance, vouchsafed fo our humble petitions, 
 we learn to bear the burden of it cheerfully ; — we go forth 
 to the portion of labour assigned us with willingness, or 
 bend under our secret sorrows, if these be our lot, without 
 repining^ Blessed and happy experience! 
 
XUl 
 
 " Paul may plant and ApoUos water, but it is God who 
 giveth the increase. (1 Cor. iii. 6.) The Lord expects 
 his servants to labour in their respective callings, and 
 perform their required duties, whether of a temporal or 
 spiritual nature, with as much industry and diligence as 
 if the success of their endeavours were at their own com- 
 mand ; but this success is notwithstanding a part of his 
 own prerogative, which He reserves for himself. We 
 must therefore strive as if everything depended on our- 
 selves, yet we should also assuredly believe that God only 
 can give the increase. . So equally true it is, that although 
 man may build and watch a city, it is the Lord only who 
 can keep and preserve it from innumerable perils. 
 
 " 1833, 11 mo. — A poor, irresolute and fallen creature, 
 is desirous of obtaining a crown immortal, by ' fighting 
 the good fight of faith,' against those potent enemies, the 
 world, the flesh, and the devil ; — the world, in all its seduc- 
 tive and terrific vicissitudes, the fle&h in its corruptions, 
 and the devil, in the plenitude of his malevolence and 
 power. O ! merciful and omnipotent Lord God, be pleased 
 to assist a trembling sinner in this unequal warfare, or the 
 victory can never be obtained ; but through thy aid in 
 Christ Jesus, we may be made more than conquerors. 
 With Thee, ail things are possible, and thy strength is 
 made perfect in human weakness. As without Thee nothing 
 that is truly good can prosper, so against thy holy will and 
 power, nothing that is evil shall ever be able to prevail. 
 
 " 1833, 11 mo. — O most gracious God ! Be pleased for 
 thy great Name's sake, thy dear Son's sake, and my immortal 
 
xiv 
 
 soul's sake, to forgive the manifold infirmities of a vain 
 and roving imagination. Pardon, I humbly and reverently 
 pray Thee, the mighty sins of my youth by actual trans- 
 gression ; and if it be not too much to implore even of thy 
 infinite mercy, love me freely. When I groan the uspeak- 
 able groan, incline thine ear to hear ; when I shed — alas, 
 how seldom ! — the tear of contrition, put it into thy bottle ; 
 and if ever at thy command, and by the assistance of thy 
 grace, I have performed the least work of faith and 
 obedience, let it be recorded in thy book of remembrance, 
 that through the intercession of thy appointed Mediator, I 
 may finally be emboldened to render up my account, with 
 humble confidence and trembling joy. 
 
 " Of all tlie weights and burdens which the Christian 
 traveller has to bear in his pilgrimage through this world, 
 perhaps on a due estimate, none will be found to be heavier 
 than himself ; nor anything which in the retrospect oppresses 
 him with greater sorrow and a deeper humiliation than the 
 sense of his own unworthiness — a word of no lofty sound, 
 yet when contemplated in its causes, its effects, and its as- 
 sociations, of very comprehensive and significant import. 
 
 " I am aware that both in speaking and writing, I may 
 often seem to take a low view of human nature, and of re- 
 ligious society. But when I consider the description of the 
 heart of man, as given by Him who best knew it ; when I 
 contemplate the beatitudes and the woes of the Gospel, as 
 pronounced by the same high authority ; or when I turn 
 from these, and fix my attention on the states to which the 
 precious promises and awful tlireatenings of the Old 
 Testament Scriptures were addressed, (without adverting to 
 
XV 
 
 my own experience,) I find myself justified in the conclu- 
 sion, that humility was made for man, but pride was not, 
 and that in all stations and circumstances into which he 
 can possibly be brought, it especially becomes his pre- 
 carious and dependent condition. 
 
 " 1834, 10 mo. 8. — The noble faculty of human reason, 
 or the understanding of man, abstractedly considered, 
 capable of improvement as it confessedly is, still has its 
 boundaries and limitations ; and it is of much importance 
 to ascertain as far as possible what these limits are ; as it 
 is no little disparagement to reason, and often attended 
 with danger, both to ourselves and others, to apply it to 
 subjects, especially in religion and philosophy, to which 
 it is incompetent. It is either on doubtful questions, 
 ambiguous expressions, or certain abstruse oppositions of 
 science, falsely so called, that the sophist and the infidel 
 lay the foundation of that structure, which they proudly 
 as vainly imagine shall reach up to heaven ; but which, 
 however specious or fair in appearance, yet being built on 
 the sand, will neither be able to withstand the shock of the 
 tempest, nor endure the penetrating effulgence of the sun 
 of righteousness. Before these every Babel must fall, and 
 those who build it will be confounded, even as Dagon of 
 old fell prostrate before the ark of the Lord." 
 
 Some time before his death, our beloved friend gave up 
 his farm to his eldest son, and retired to a small com- 
 fortable house close by, where he spent many of the de- 
 clining years of life. This peaceful dwelling was at a little 
 distance on the left hand, from the high road from Long 
 Sutton to Holbeach. 
 
xvi 
 
 In the early part of the second month, 1835, he was 
 taken alarmingly ill whilst on a visit to one of his sons ; 
 and for several days there appeared to himself and those 
 about him but little prospect of his recovery. Throughout 
 the whole of this illness, during which his sufferings were 
 at times very severe, he was mercifully preserved in great 
 patience, and resignation to the Divine will. To a friend 
 who visited him he remarked, " When the world is reced- 
 ing from us, and eternity opening to our view, how pre- 
 cious it is to have an interest in a Redeemer ! how delightful 
 it is to know Him to be our Redeemer, our Mediator, our 
 Advocate with the Father, and above all our Saviour I " 
 As the prospect of a separation from his friends increased, 
 he was very anxious to bear his testimony to the reality 
 and efficacy of the immediate visitations of the Spirit of 
 Truth, of the operations of which he gave some remarkable 
 instances in his own experience. 
 
 After a few weeks, he so far recovered as to be able to 
 return home, where his health and strength gradually im- 
 proved. The evening before his death he spent very 
 cheerfully with his family, and retired to rest as well as 
 usual. About two in the morning, he was seized with 
 violent pain in the chest, which continued with but little 
 intermission for about an hour. During this time he 
 was perfectly sensible, and at times supplicated for ease. 
 This was mercifully granted about three, and after a few 
 minutes of peaceful tranquillity, he gently ceased to breathe 
 — on the first of the fourth month, 1835, in the seventy- 
 sixth year of his age. 
 
 J. F. 
 
 Tottenham, 7th mo. 184L 
 
A Tribute to the Memory of Jonathan Hutchinson. 
 By J. J. Gurney. 
 
 " It was on a beautiful bright day of sunshine, when his 
 favourite green Gedney looked greener than usual, that my 
 late dear wife and myself attended the funeral of my 
 beloved friend and father in the truth, Jonathan Hutchin- 
 son. A great many friends were convened from different 
 places, and the villagers of the place and neighbourhood 
 flocked in large numbers, and in their most decent dresses, 
 to pay their last token of respect to ' the best man of 
 Gedney.' * So the best man in Gedney is gone,' said one 
 poor labourer to another. ' What !' said the other, ' is 
 Mr. Hutchinson dead ?' His remains were deposited in a 
 little family burying-ground, not very far from his own 
 home, where his respectable though not wealthy predeces- 
 sors had been laid in their turns during several genera- 
 tions, and which he had taken the pains to plant with 
 considerable taste. Indeed it was truly remarkable with 
 what skill this ardent and almost poetic lover of nature, 
 had contrived to adorn, by judicious planting, the small 
 estate of rich pasture land which he inherited from his an- 
 cestors, who had possessed and occupied the same little 
 farm as he did for the period, as I understand, of about 200 
 years, never rising above or falling below the rank of re- 
 putable yeomen ; and since the rise of Friends, members 
 of that religious Society. Nothing can be said of the 
 
XVIU 
 
 picturesque appearance of low Lincolnshire ; but to this 
 general remark, his little domain, cultivated and adorned as 
 it was by its late beloved owner, forms a striking exception. 
 
 " To revert to the funeral ; it was an occasion of precious, 
 comforting solemnity. The meeting-house is at the dis- 
 tance of a mile from the place of interment; but the 
 assembled company followed the train of friends and rela- 
 tions, first to the grave, and afterwards to tlie meeting, in 
 the most orderly manner. The meeting afforded a full 
 opportunity for reverent waiting upon the Lord, and for the 
 preaching of the glorious Gospel of our Holy Redeemer : 
 at the grave, the thickening circle of friends and neigh- 
 bours were also addressed ; all seemed united not only 
 in a sense of their own great loss, but in some view 
 and apprehension of his blessedness, — the blessedness of 
 one who had lived and died in the Lord. The striking 
 mark of affection and respect which was shown on that day 
 by the inhabitants of a rather extensive district around his 
 home, was obviously the result of the influence which is 
 gradually obtained over a surrounding population by the 
 weight of sound, practical, but unostentatious Christianity. 
 The good man was gone; the meek, kind, humble, 
 generous neighbour was no more ; and many were they of 
 every description who seemed ready to rally round his 
 grave in the remembrance of his virtues. 
 
 " Never did I meet with a fellow pilgrim towards the 
 heavenly Zion, who was more acutely and more constantly 
 alive to his own demerits. He used to tell me that this was 
 a point on which his many afflictions peculiarly led him to 
 dwell. ' Never mind,' would he say, ' I am fully aware 
 that whatsoever it befalls me to suffer, I deserve it ; and 
 
six 
 
 that whatsoever of comfort and happiness is cast into my 
 cup of mixture, it is all of unmerited kindness and mercy.* 
 He knew much of tlie depth of the fall of man, and of the 
 extent and awfulness of his ruin by nature ; and just in 
 proportion to his visions and feelings on this subject, was 
 his estimate of the infinite value of Jesus — Imraanuel — 
 the Saviour of mankind. 
 
 " It was at an early period of our acquaintance that we 
 were companions on the committee of the Yearly Meeting- 
 appointed to try the appeal of the late Thomas Foster, who 
 had been disowned for holding and propagating Unitarian 
 sentiments. After the committee had come to the conclu- 
 sion to confirm the disownment, and had settled down into 
 deep and solemn silence, it was Jonathan Hutchinson who 
 broke that silence in the following expressions : ' I know 
 not how my brethren may be affected, but I heartily 
 rejoice in the decision of the committee ; for as it regards 
 myself I can indeed say with truth, that without Christ I 
 should be of all men most miserable.' These words in- 
 dicated the constant tenor of his mind on the subject of 
 religion ; and whilst he never let down the standard of 
 practical piety, and ever pleaded for that Divine influence 
 which can alone prepare us for heaven, he was anxious 
 that in the declarations and writings of his friends, the 
 door should be left fully open for the poor penitent who 
 even at the eleventh hour, even in his latest extremity, 
 like the thief on the cross, should turn with all his heart 
 and in simple faith, to Him in whom dwells all the fulness 
 of saving righteousness and forgiving mercy. 
 
 " He was humble in a larger and deeper sense of the 
 expression than is often the case even with experienced 
 
XX 
 
 Christians, and looked back with many tears, and some- 
 times with conflict of spirit, to the wanderings of his early 
 days. I am not aware that he ever indulged in the vices, 
 or even much of the gaiety of the world ; but his imagi- 
 nation was fertile, he was of a contemplative turn of mind : 
 and he was at one time during his early manhood much 
 inclined to a hard-hearted speculative unbelief, a state of 
 mind closely connected with the pride of intellect, and an 
 almost obstinate unwillingness to sacrifice his independence, 
 and to bow his neck under the yoke of Christ. He spent 
 much of his time, I believe, in solitary rides over the coun- 
 try, when his mind had full leisure to roam at large in 
 those regions of dangerous speculation to which he was 
 prone ; but the Lord met with him on his way by some 
 remarkable visitations, and thus brought him home to him- 
 self in the ever-blessed covenant of light and life. 
 
 " Living in a retired village, the principal member of a 
 very small meeting, and belonging to a Quarterly Meeting, 
 the members of which were by no means numerous, and 
 scattered over an extensive district, our dear friend en- 
 joyed far less frequent opportunities of religious association 
 than fall to the lot of many of his brethren. He presented 
 a remarkable example of that silent growth in grace, of 
 that gradual deepening of the root, and unfolding of the 
 precious plant above, which is sometimes effected by virtue 
 of the dews and rains of heaven with very little of human 
 instrumentality — the advancing process being little per- 
 ceptible from day to day to the beholders, much less to the 
 individual who is growing, but nevertheless real, ' first the 
 blade, then the ear, then the full corn in the ear.' I have 
 often found occasion to observe in visiting friends in various 
 
Jjarts of the country, that it is not always those who have 
 the greatest advantages in point of outward administration 
 who make the greatest progress in the Truth. I have 
 sometimes found brethren and sisters in solitary places — 
 young people as well as old— who very seldom enjoyed 
 the privilege of hearing the Gospel preached, but who 
 nevertheless were evidently living under the enlivening, 
 guiding, and restraining influences of the Holy Spirit. Just 
 such was eminently the subject of this memoir ; though he 
 had once been a revolter against the Lord, and though but 
 little of human help fell to his portion, he had his blessed 
 share in the fulfilment of that gracious promise, ' I will 
 be as the dew unto Israel : he shall grow as the lily, and 
 cast forth his roots as Lebanon.' 
 
 " While the experience of very many in our Society afFords 
 a proof of the excellence of those principles which tend to 
 wean us from every arm of flesh, and to bring us into im- 
 mediate dependence on Him in whom are our springs, 
 there is nothing in this experience which in any degree 
 Justifies the neglect of those lawful and profitable means of 
 religious edification which our heavenly Father has placed 
 within our reach. Among the most important of these means 
 is the perusal of the Holy Scriptures. Ourlate beloved friend 
 was diligent in the performance of this duty — a duty which 
 perfectly coincided with that devotional taste which now 
 marked his character. He loved the Scriptures, as contain- 
 ing the message of his God, a message unutterably dear to 
 him because it testified of Christ ; nor were any parts of 
 the volume so precious to him, as those which set forth the 
 helplessness and corruption of fallen man on one hand, 
 and the treasures of redeeming love on the other. The humi- 
 
liallons of David, and the love, faith, and allegiance of 
 Paul, were equally familiar to his penitent spirit. 
 
 " Another means of spiritual benefit in the use of which 
 Jonathan Hutchinson was remarkably diligent was the re- 
 gular attendance of his meetings, both for worship and dis- 
 cipline. In order to be present at the latter, in which his 
 weight of character and sound discretion gave him large 
 influence, he was accustomed to pass much of his time in 
 travelling; for his Monthly Meeting was generally held at 
 places considerably distant from Gedney, and his Quar- 
 terly Meetings at Lincoln, fifty miles from his home. No 
 inclemency of weather, no controlable inconvenience, 
 prevented his regularly attending these meetings, greatly 
 to the comfort of his friends ; nor was the time passed in 
 solitude on the road an idle time to him. His thoughts 
 and contemplations were upon God, upon his people, upon 
 his precious cause. 
 
 " I never knew Jonathan Hutchinson as a husband, for 
 his wife was dead before our acquaintance commenced ; 
 but I can testify that he was a tender, affectionate, careful 
 father. With his two daughters, Rachel and Lydia, he 
 kept up an intimate, individual friendship. They both 
 married, and died in their confinement : Lydia in her 
 father's lifetime, Rachel after his death. Their memory is 
 dear to me ; for they were worthy of their parent, and 
 fondly cherished him as the object of their unfeigned re- 
 verence as well as love. He was a person of far too good 
 sense to attempt an escape from his true sphere of life, 
 or to neglect the business by which he maintained his 
 family. He was a skilful, practical farmer, exceeded, I 
 believe, by none of his neighbours in such matters ; yet he 
 
xxiii 
 
 was very far superior to the generality of persons of his 
 class in point of intellectual cultiyation. He read much 
 and variously, and thought deeply and largely on many 
 subjects ; nor did he neglect the ■wholesome cultivation 
 even of the imagination. He was fond of poetry, and I 
 venture to assert that the beauties of nature were to him 
 clothed in almost double brightness. No man better un- 
 derstood the meaning of the poet's words, ' My Father 
 made them all.' 
 
 " With such pursuits, tastes, and habits of mind, and with 
 a disposition remarkably formed for friendship, he was a 
 clioice companion to all who shared an intimate association 
 with him, both old and young. One hour of tete-d-tcte 
 with him, never failed to be a source of pure pleasure to me; 
 for the resources of his mind were rich, and the glow of re- 
 ligion was over them all. Our close agreement on all 
 points of a rehgious nature, and on many of a merely in- 
 tellectual character, was the means of bringing us into a 
 near and easy friendship, which I shall, I believe, always 
 look back upon as one of the choicest privileges of my life. 
 
 " Before I conclude, I would say a few words on the 
 subject of his ministry. It was very peculiar, being a large 
 gift in a few words. His communications were almost uni- 
 formly very short ; seldom continued for more than a few 
 minutes ; but they were remarkably full of matter, evan- 
 gelical in substance, simple in manner, and lively through 
 the power of the Holy Spirit. They were often that on 
 which the contemplative mind rnight dwell for hours. In 
 prayer he was fervent, humble, simple, and emphatic. 
 
 " A painful disease, I believe in the heart, carried him 
 off very suddenly. The unexpected attack came on in 
 
xxiv 
 
 tiie course of the night, after he had retired to rest consi-' 
 derably better than usual. The pain was violent, though 
 short ; and death ensued without the opportunity of any 
 expression except a very short prayer, and I may add 
 without a struggle. Surely this beloved friend, this hum- 
 ble devoted Christian rests in Jesus ; surely when Christ, 
 who is our life, shall appear, he will appear with Hira in 
 glory. May I die the death of the righteous ; and may 
 my last end be like his ! Amen and amen. 
 
 J. J. GURNEY." 
 
 " On board the Monongahela, from 
 Liverpool to Philadelphia, 
 7 mo. 22, 1837." 
 
EXTRACTS, &c. 
 
 No. 1. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1807, 4 ]1. — I feel a liberty to give thee some ac- 
 count of ray own journeying thus far through the devious 
 paths of life. Although I received but a common education, 
 yet I contracted at an early period a much greater inclina- 
 tion to the pursuit of abstract and metaphysical inquiries 
 than simple and obvious truths. By this means, as might 
 be expected, my incautious and inexperienced feet soon 
 became entangled in the snares of that vain and false phi- 
 losophy, which, according to the beautiful language of the 
 poet, only " leads to bewilder and dazzles to blind," and so 
 perplexes the mind with shade after shade, that doubt suc- 
 ceeding doubt, like still ascending mountains, at length 
 presents an awful and almost inaccessible barrier between 
 the soul and its God. 
 
 Well, my dear friend, through this land of darkness and 
 shadow of death I have wandered, where none knows but 
 myself, and few could believe what I met witli. Suffice 
 it at present to say, that even here Divine mercy and re- 
 gard were manifested for my deliverance, sometimes by 
 the melting languge of invitation and love, and at others 
 by stripe deservedly succeeding stripe. But alas ! I had 
 
 B 
 
2 
 
 become such an enemy to the Cross, and was so desirous 
 of finding an easier way to the kingdom than by it, that 
 it was not until I had tried almost everything, and was 
 reduced by the mere force of mental affliction, that I could 
 be prevailed upon to submit to its salutary discipline : since 
 which, — as indeed infinite is the obligation, — I hope I have 
 not been wilfully rebellious ; but though in much weakness 
 and fear, yet I trust, in some good degree of simplicity and 
 sincerity, I have endeavoured to run with patience the 
 race that is set before me. 
 
 But that which has most particularly impressed me as 
 matter for serious communication, is an apprehension that 
 has for some time attended me, that in this day of too general 
 departure from the ancient paths of simplicity and truth 
 which our forefathers believed it their duty to walk in, 
 those who may be designed by Infinite Wisdom to support 
 the characters of such judges as the first, and such coun- 
 sellors as were found in the beginning of our Society, — and 
 who from the fewness of their numbers and the solitude of 
 their situations, may be compared to one of a city, and 
 two of a family, — will have to go deep into suffering. And 
 though it is very far from my design either to weaken or 
 depreciate the strong and tender ties of natural afi"ection, 
 domestic endearment, or social love, which not only form 
 what is most estimable in the bond of outward union, but 
 as sweeteners of the mingled cup of life are enjoyments 
 which I believe religion allows us freely to partake of, — yet 
 I also believe that some of those who are obedient to the 
 call above mentioned, will have to pass through trials simi- 
 lar to what not unfrequently have attended newly-con- 
 vinced persons, experiencing the truth of our Lord's decla- 
 ration, that He came not to send peace on earth, but a 
 
3 
 
 sword. This at first sight appears so hard a saying, that 
 we are ready to say, Who indeed can bear it ? yet 
 though the trial still remains, the difficulty seems much re- 
 conciled by considering that the difference in question is of 
 a nature which does not lessen the affection of the true 
 disciple towards those from whom he may nevertheless 
 feel himself bound to dissent, both in judgment and prac- 
 tice : though for a time, for want of being fully understood 
 by them, it may fare with him as with the apostle for- 
 merly, " The more he loves, the less he is loved." 
 
 This is a situation which surely may be compared to Ja- 
 cob's trouble, wherein the mind, clothed with unusual sen- 
 sibility, and peculiarly alive to every tender impulse and 
 painful emotion, feels a contemptuous look or a reproach- 
 ful word, to be like a sharp sword, aiming, and alas often 
 too successfully, a wounding blow at the heart, which 
 seems to exceed in poignancy and anguish, even what 
 we have ever conceived to be the pangs of natural death, 
 and which we also feel to be dangerous. O may it never 
 be destructive to that spiritual life, which is hid from the 
 wise and prudent of this world ; for did they behold it, 
 charity inclines us to hope, they would not thus perse- 
 cute it. 
 
 In these seasons of deep probation, may we remember 
 for our encouragement, that the Captain of our salvation 
 was made perfect through sufferings, — that He was treated 
 with every kind of ignominy and insult, and finally in tlie 
 opinion of men led to a shameful and inglorious death. 
 And may tlie remembrance of these things animate us 
 with fresh courage to renew our endeavours to follow him 
 even to Calvary, bearing his reproach. 
 
 I hope thou wilt not consider what has dropped from me 
 
 B 2 
 
4 
 
 on these serious subjects as calculated to throw unneces- 
 sary gloom or difficulty upon the narrow way which leads 
 to life. I am, at least if I know my own heart, very dif- 
 ferently disposed, and would, were it possible, as many 
 are vainly endeavouring to do, strew it with flowers ; 
 but I know too well the folly of such an attempt, I 
 think I have found, by an experience purchased at no 
 easy rate, that the divine truths of the Christian religion 
 will not bend to accommodate the selfish views of the na- 
 tural man. No, immovable as the rock from whence they 
 sprang, they will, like it, for ever bid defiance to all the 
 opposition which the united powers of violence and so- 
 phistry can bring against them. What I then so earnestly 
 covet, and which seems to be the ground of my present ex- 
 ercise for myself and for thee, is, that we may become 
 more and more firmly established in these inestimable, es- 
 sential, and unchangeable truths ; that our hearts may 
 indeed become fixed, trusting in the Lord alone ; and that 
 we may be so built upon Him, as never more to be sepa- 
 rated from his love. 
 
 No. 2. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1808, 2 mo. 26. — In those trying moments which I 
 have lately had to pass through,* wherein my feeble nature, 
 exhausted and trembling under the sudden, unexpected, 
 and awful stroke which she had sustained, reclined by 
 turns her weary head upon every breast from whence she 
 could hope for a little of that consolation which true friend- 
 ship affords,— in this season of affliction thou wast brought 
 
 • This has allusion to the loss of his beloved wife, who had died a 
 few weeks previously, after a very short and suffering illness. 
 
5 
 
 to my mind with such an assurance of thy sympathy that 
 to have followed the impulse of my first feelings, I believe 
 I should have transmitted to thee, in common with my 
 nearest relations and friends, early information of the re- 
 moval of my beloved companion, with the intended time of 
 her interment ; but on reasoning a little upon it, and not 
 seeing what should bear me out in using such a freedom, 
 I declined it, and thereby it seems as if I had deprived 
 myself and my friends of thy acceptable company on that 
 solemn occasion. This having been the case, induces me 
 to make nearly my first attempt upon paper since that 
 time, to acknowledge the receipt of thy kind and sympa- 
 thizing lines, which I think were as consoling to me as 
 anything of a similar nature could be expected to be, at 
 the same period of time. 
 
 It may perhaps afford thee some satisfaction to know, 
 that I and my little helpless children have been remem- 
 bered by divers of our dear relations and friends, from some 
 of whom we have received kind testimonials of sympathetic 
 regard ; and I trust I may without presumption add, that 
 the desires they have affectionately expressed for my 
 support have been measurably fulfilled. My mind, after 
 recovering its first shock, though greatly reduced, even to 
 the state of considering myself little better than a reptile 
 of creation, has notwithstanding been so far preserved in 
 quietude and contrition, as seldom to be entirely bereft of 
 a hope, that proved like an anchor in those storms, which 
 in times of outward weakness and inward trial are apt to 
 assail, and at seasons almost threaten to overwhelm us. 
 So that on taking a general retrospect of my life, which, 
 though obscure has not been without its vicissitudes, and 
 considering how often I have been mercifully preserved 
 
6 
 
 from suffering shipwreck, I can address Him who has 
 helped me in this grateful language, " For all I thank 
 Thee :" but when I go into a still deeper recollection of 
 some particular circumstances that have attended me, and 
 consider the chastisement I have justly incurred, with the 
 violence which has been necessary to rend the attachments 
 of my heart from this world, under these impressions I 
 feel almost strengih enough to kiss the rod, and to add, 
 with faltering utterance, " most for the severe." 
 
 No. 3. To Herbert and Mary Camm. 
 
 Welhourn, 1808, 4 mo. 6. — Does it not seem that the 
 principal object of our greatest affliction, in connection with 
 the lesser every-day trials to which we are exposed, is to 
 reduce us, or to try if we be reduced, to a passive acqui- 
 escence under the varied dispensations of Providence, so 
 that whilst we retain a sensibility that may be almost said 
 to be tremblingly alive, our wills may be so far lost and 
 absorbed in the love of the Divine will, that we shall re- 
 ceive suffering or rejoicing therein with an equal mind ? 
 But alas ! whilst I am thus describing that excellent state 
 which in theory appears so beautiful ; — and realized, would 
 perhaps be little short of the " mark for the prize," I am com- 
 pelled to blush at my own infantile attainments. Though 
 I may thankfully acknowledge that those emotions of na- 
 ture occasioned by the sudden and unexpected stroke 
 which deprived me of a beloved companion, have been suc- 
 ceeded by a greater degree of calm and contrite submission 
 than, considering my manifold infirmities and imperfections, 
 I could have reasonably expected. So that I have at 
 seasons been enabled with tears to put up my petition to 
 
7 
 
 the following import : " 0 Lord, if it please Thee, look 
 down with compassionate regard on thy poor creature on 
 whom It has pleased Thee once more to lay thine hand in 
 affliction, and let his helpless ofifspring become objects of 
 thy tender care. Forget not to be gracious to a being, who 
 though but a worm, is yet also a part of thy rational crea- 
 tion — a being not only formed by thy marvellous power, 
 but upheld and supported in existence, from his cradle to 
 the present day, by thy goodness and long-sufifering mercy." 
 My feelings almost prevent my writing with tolerable cor- 
 rectness ; you will make allowance for me, and perhaps be 
 just able to form a little judgment how it is with me. 
 When it fares well with you, remember me. 
 
 No. 4. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1808, 7 28. — I find the present clouded, dark, and 
 rainy day is but too emblematic of the state of my mind ; and 
 whilst I sigh complaint to Him who seeth in secret, I am 
 impelled by an inclination, I will not say an allowable one, 
 to pour some of the effusions of a still afflicted heart, into 
 the sympathetic bosom of a friend. But what shall I say ? 
 Privileged beyond thousands of perhaps more deserving 
 fellow-creatures, can I say anything that will not border 
 upon murmuring ? and ought I not rather to lay my hand 
 upon my mouth ? Oh ! my dear friend, the last few 
 months of my life, as thou knowest, have been fraught with 
 vicissitudes the most painful to nature ; and these have 
 produced an experience which, whilst it seems to baffle de- 
 scription, has excited the desire that, if consistent with a 
 wisdom which I believe we both acknowledge to be inscru- 
 table, may never be thine. 
 
8 
 
 I look at my dear little children ; I look at the world : I 
 review that part of my pilgrimage already passed, and I 
 anticipate, though with much uncertainty, that which is 
 involved in futurity ; and with this affecting prospect of 
 things, I am ready to tremble for myself and for them. 
 Under this deep and solemn exercise, I think the greatest 
 relief I have found, has arisen from feeling just able to 
 make this appeal ; " Lord ! I acknowledge the justice 
 of thy correcting hand, and I still desire submissively to 
 bow under the various turnings thereof upon me." 
 
 29<A. — Believing, and almost regretting the degree of 
 suffering into which thy mind may be introduced by what 
 I wrote yesterday, I wish to make thee a partaker of a 
 little consolation wliich I seem to have received, by find- 
 ing my mind, on waking early this morning, covered with 
 contrition, and enabled to breathe, on behalf of myself and 
 my dear children, for preservation from the evils of this 
 world. And whilst under this exercise, the recollection 
 that this was one of the petitions which our dear Lord 
 when on earth put up for his disciples, and what He also 
 instructed them to pray for on their own account ; I was 
 encouraged upon the whole to emerge a little from the 
 depth of that conflict into which my mind has of late been 
 unusually baptized, and once more to lift up my head in 
 humble hope. Marvellous indeed are the dealings of the 
 Lord with us poor creatures of the dust ! 
 
 No. 5. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1808, 8 mo. 10. — I received thy truly acceptable letter 
 yesterday, to which I think I have more reason than thou 
 hadst to mine to apply the epithet of " grateful," because 
 
0 
 
 It not only conveyed what I intended, the language of 
 friendship, but it also contained, what mine had not to 
 boast, that of instructive consolation. Yes, my dear friend, 
 I mean no flattery when I say, it was to me like a drop 
 of balm distilling upon a lacerated breast. 
 
 I think with thee, that a desire to know, and an endea- 
 vour to do, the business of the present hour, is about " the 
 amount of our allotment ;" and in answer to thy query, 'Do 
 we gain much strength by looking at what may be ?' I think 
 I can experimentally answer ' Indeed we do not to which 
 I may also add, that I have not unfrequently been driven, 
 as to a last resource, to the consolatory encouragement of 
 the text thou hast quoted, " sufficient to the day is the 
 evil thereof." But notwithstanding all my knowledge of 
 these things, and my seeming sometimes almost established 
 in the present truth, I am apt to flag, and find not only 
 my best theories, but former experience, unavailing to keep 
 my mind wound up to that pitch of faith, and its concomi- 
 tant virtue, patience, which is I believe necessary to our 
 religious progress ; so that I can very feelingly adopt the 
 remarkable language of our dear ancient friend Thomas 
 Ross in his last illness, that of all the difficulties attendant 
 on his passage through life, he found it one of the greatest 
 when he was right to keep so. 
 
 In consequence of the Yearly Meeting's Minute, the 
 subjects of the fourth query were brought under the con- 
 sideration of Friends at the Monthly Meeting at , and 
 
 I thought it safest for me to endeavour to press the im- 
 portance and propriety of consistency in religious character. 
 In doing this, I mentioned my observation of the nice 
 manner in which the world scrutinized our conduct, and 
 with what triumphant and exulting scorn it looked down 
 
 B 5 
 
10 
 
 upon us when that conduct was not consistent with our 
 principles ; for though it might affect to smile at the sin- 
 gularity into which a faithful adherence to these principles 
 might lead, yet in reality it respected them. 
 
 On sitting down it seemed to me that I had used a 
 plainness of speech which perhaps might offend ; and as I 
 do not like to give offence, I became rather uncomfortable 
 on that score. But on turning things over a little in my 
 mind, a query arose, What then must be done ? Must I 
 seek reconciliation with the world, and the spirit of it? No, 
 rather let me fly for refuge into a deeper resignation to 
 bear its reproach ; and let the reputation of pleasing men, 
 and of walking after the course of this world, though once 
 almost as dear to me as life, become of less and less value 
 in my eyes, enabling me to adopt that crucifying language 
 of a pious w^riter, — I think Cambray, — expressed nearly in 
 these words, " Let them Qthe children of this world] de- 
 spise, let them abhor me, let them trample upon me as 
 upon the graves of the dead." I believe thou wilt not 
 infer from my writing thus, that I wish to encourage a se- 
 vere and uncharitable behaviour towards others. No, I 
 believe even those who ought to be apt to teach, should also, 
 by their gentleness and patience towards all men, endeavour 
 to demonstrate that religion is not less amiable than it is 
 essential and excellent ; and yet I apprehend it necessary 
 that our minds be so fortified — and by what more likely 
 means than a willingness to suffer — as sometimes in the 
 ability received to contend for the faith, and against that 
 which opposes it, in words which neither man's wisdom 
 nor inclination teaches. 
 
11 
 
 No. 6. To Elizabeth Storr. 
 
 1808, 11 mo. 14. — The thought of its being possible 
 that I still may retain an interest in the minds of such as, 
 taught by their own trials, can sympathize in mine, sheds 
 at seasons a cheering ray through the gloom which fre- 
 quently hangs over my drooping, though I hope I need 
 not say disconsolate soul. I have nothing to boast of — 
 quite the reverse ; nor does it, I think, proceed from an 
 affectation of humility, when I express a belief, founded 
 upon a calm and dispassionate retrospect of my life, that 
 few have so much cause for abasement as myself. And 
 yet it hath pleased Him, whose will I believe is not more 
 his own glory than our happiness, to deal marvellously 
 and mercifully with me ; and though iu the course of my 
 pilgrimage, the rod has been often stretched over me, yet 
 the staff has also in times of extremity been graciously 
 afforded ; so that I may say, Hitherto have I been helped, 
 or I must have fallen. And though I have been dealt 
 with in a manner which has made me almost like a wonder 
 to myself, yet at the same time it has been in a manner 
 which I think warrants me to encourage other poor wan- 
 derers throutrh this vale of tears to trust in the Lord. 
 For seeing his ways are higher than our ways, and his 
 thoughts than our thoughts, it is frequently by means at 
 a time unlooked for, that help is afforded to those who 
 truly trust in Him. 
 
12 
 
 No. 7. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1809, 3 mo. 18. — Having since I wrote last, in com- 
 pany with a few other friends, been engaged in visiting 
 the families of Friends in our monthly meeting, I thought 
 I was just free to tell thee that we got through bet- 
 ter than I believe any of us had anticipated, for we had 
 viewed this service at a distance in rather a formidable 
 light. I am in no boasting disposition, but I would add, 
 that as we went along, an affectionate desire for the wel- 
 fare of our friends accompanied us from house to house, 
 which seemed to be rather productive of an uniting than a 
 scattering influence, which leads me to hope that it was a 
 degree of our Heavenly Father's love, shed abroad in our 
 hearts, towards our brethren. Indeed I believe his pater- 
 nal arm is at the present day stretched out to the gather- 
 ing of us as a people nearer to Himself and to one another. 
 
 Whilst writing on this subject, and viewing those infirmi- 
 ties and imperfections which perhaps not only myself, but 
 many of my dear fellow-professors have to deplore, I am 
 ready to utter the petition, " Lord, enter not into judg- 
 ment with thy servants ; for in thy sight shall no flesh be 
 justified." Yet I am not dismayed by this awful consider- 
 ation, my past experience (and as it is one neither calcu- 
 lated to excite nor nourish vanity, I perhaps may be 
 allowed to mention it,) of the Divine long-suflering 
 is such ; and so firm is my belief, that if we will, we 
 may yet be gathered, that notwithstanding all opposition 
 from within and without, both which I know to be pow- 
 erful, my spirit is mercifully permitted to repose in " peni- 
 tential peace and cheerful hope." 
 
13 
 
 No. 8. To Richard Cockin. 
 
 1809, 3 mo. 30.— Thy kind letter of the 19th, and the 
 expressions of sympathy and friendship which it contained, 
 were nor only truly acceptable, but also strengthening to 
 my mind. For though I hope I am desirous of preser- 
 vation from a discontented and murmuring disposition, 
 I am nevertheless often in so poor and reduced a state as 
 to seem in need of every help from every quarter. I was 
 pretty much in this situation when thy lines dropped in, 
 I trust seasonably, to my consolation and relief. It is in- 
 deed, amongst many others, a great favour to the young 
 traveller, (for such, though I have been long feebly strug- 
 gling, I cannot but consider myself,) that there are in 
 the church those whom experience can qualify to com- 
 municate a word in season to him who scarcely knows 
 which way to direct his feet. Believing thee to be one of 
 those fathers, to thee I may confidentially say that such is 
 not unfrequently the case with me ; and though, when I 
 look at the gracious dealings, and particularly the forbear- 
 ance and long-suffering of our Heavenly Father towards 
 me, I am ready to say, " What can be done that has not 
 been done for me ? Surely goodness and mercy, infinite 
 as they are, must have been almost exhausted, and the 
 hand of divine justice suspended and withheld in a very 
 remarkable manner from punishing the sins and follies of 
 my youth." Yet on the other hand, upon considering my 
 infirmities, both of flesh and spirit, with the malevolent 
 and unremitting endeavours of him who, from very early 
 life, has sought my destruction, hunting me even through 
 the retreats of solitude, like a partridge upon the moun- 
 tains ; — when I take this view I am ready to tremble, 
 
14 
 
 and really to fear that one day or other I shall certainly 
 fall by the violent and deceitful hand of my soul's enemy. 
 However, as I think I am convinced by something more 
 than theory, that this will do no good, and that if difficul- 
 ties are not encountered they cannot be overcome : I 
 therefore endeavour to [[maintain]] the warfare, and some- 
 times am favoured with a hope, that, through the as- 
 sistance of Him who, though He may at seasons suffer us 
 to be hard put to it, still beholds us with an eye of pity 
 and love, I shall ultimately be made victorious ; though 
 so sharp has this conflict often been, as to cause many a 
 silent tear to drop as upon the bosom of the earth, and 
 many a groan unutterable to escape from my oppressed 
 heart, and mix with the passing wind. But secret as 
 these have been, and unknown to mortals, tliey are not, I 
 trust, unnoticed by Him before whom a book of remem- 
 brance is written of all the exercises of those who are en- 
 deavouring to follow Him through many tribulations, and 
 wlio, having Himself been tried like as we are, is touched 
 with a feeling of our infirmities, and knows how to suc- 
 cour and sustain, even in the hour of peril and dismay, 
 those wlio are tried and tempted. 
 
 I hope thou wilt not understand anything I have said 
 as the Qanguage] of complaint, from which, under all my 
 difficulties, I have been mercifully preserved : never hav- 
 ing Qdared^ to say to Him, who hath repeatedly smitten, 
 'What doest thou?' and even whilst writing this my 
 spirit is contrited and prostrated under his humbling 
 ^hand, and willing] there to remain, however mortifying 
 and crucifying to all that is human in me. O my dear 
 friend, pray for me, that in this I may continue firm, and 
 that my faith and patience may not fail. 
 
15 
 
 No. 9. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1809, 4 mo. 21. — There was one of my speeches, when 
 last at your quarterly meeting, and that perhaps one of 
 the best, with which I am at the present hour particularly 
 disposed to find fault. My observations on the deficiency 
 of attending meetings, as remarked in some of the an- 
 swers, were not, as to the manner^ satisfactory to me ; 
 though I am not even now aware that my expressions 
 wanted changing, as I think they only went to this 
 point — that a neglect in attending religious meetings 
 proceeded chiefly from a want of sufficient love and fear of 
 the Supreme Being. I thought, after sitting down, and 
 continue to think, whenever it revolves in my mind, that 
 on this occasion my manner had something in it, which, 
 though more the effect of inattention than design, was too 
 assuming ; and that my voice was not enough modulated 
 by the gentleness with which our endeavours to persuade 
 one another, concerning the things of righteousness and 
 peace, ought to be expressed ; and perhaps, if I had been 
 sufficiently attentive to the intimation of that wisdom which 
 js pure and full of love, I might have had to make this hu- 
 miliating acknowledgment before the breaking up of the 
 meeting. I am sorry for this omission, if it was one ; and 
 I think thankful for the sense given me of my fault. 
 
 Is it not said there is an acquired taste naturally, and 
 that we may by habit come to relish what has formerly 
 been disagreeable to us ? And, if so, is it not at least 
 possible that, by repeated draughts of spiritual bitters, we 
 may become reconciled to them also ? I am willing to 
 hope that passing through many tribulations has purchased 
 
16 
 
 for me tins experience ; and that not only the mercies, 
 but the judgments of the Lord are at length become sweet 
 to my taste, yea, sweeter than the honeycomb ; — not 
 only more delectable than those unhallowed, yet fascinating 
 gratifications, which in early life I partook of with too 
 much avidity ; but transcending also the more rational, 
 yet less objectionable sources of satisfaction, which, even in 
 riper years, we are very apt, without great care, too much 
 to indulge in. 
 
 No. 10. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1809, 7 16. — Thou art right in supposing me a 
 man of a fearful heart, which to my own mind, as it is 
 seldom any difficulty to compromise with self, I can ac- 
 count for many ways ! and probably a few, at least, of 
 those various causes, both physical and religious, may ap- 
 pear so obvious to thee as to render any further description 
 of them superfluous. To speak, therefore, only generally — 
 are not hope and fear those passions which, in proper exer- 
 cise, tend most of all others to keep us in equilibrium ? 
 and from too great a preponderance of either of them, do 
 not some of our spiritual dangers arise ? In ascending the 
 towering heights of presumption and self-confidence, do 
 not our minds acquire too firm and rigid a tone ? and when 
 we sink below measure into imperceptible depression, do 
 we not then, like the lyre unstrung, become incapable of 
 giving forth a sound, either instructive or harmonious i 
 Of the latter thou hast discovered in thy friend, though 
 not new to himself, a striking illustration ; and almost the 
 only present comfort he is able to take, under the discou- 
 ragement which his example afifords, is in the hope that 
 
17 
 
 the Christian traveller's fears, even when they verge to an 
 extreme, have sometimes a good foundation ; love and 
 gratitude to his heavenly Benefactor, creating a reluctance 
 to offend on the one hand, and a deep sense of the lia- 
 bility thereto, to which the corruptions and infirmities of 
 his nature continually expose him, on the other ; and see- 
 ing that adequate help is afforded to the watchful, I do 
 not mean to advance this as a sufficient excuse for an 
 erratic course ; rather would I excite us, when, under the 
 influence of our fears — (from which I do not think thou 
 art entirely free) — we see ourselves in danger either to 
 loiter or stray, to endeavour, with as little confusion or 
 emotion as possible, to regain the way cast up, and pa- 
 tiently walk therein, with renewed confidence in that 
 goodness, which is too vast for finite comprehension, and 
 which, perhaps, is best understood and explained by its 
 own precious influences, those influences that at seasons 
 are so mercifully vouchsafed, even to the weak and erring 
 mind. 
 
 I particularly notice what thou sayest in thy last, respect- 
 ing thy own dismay at things moving so heavily along 
 among you. I am not surprised at it, neither am I 
 equally concerned for thy feelings, as for the cause ; — be- 
 lieving that, although our Divine Master does not over- 
 load the children in his family — the young disciples — yet, 
 consistent with his wisdom, he adds to their burdens as 
 strength increases. Viewing thy exercises in this light, I 
 draw the encouraging inference, that thy capacity for bur- 
 den-bearing is increasing, and that thy eyes are gradually 
 opening to objects which might have been too strong and 
 too powerful for a more youthful vision. 
 
18 
 
 No. 11. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1809, 10 mo. 28. — As to hope, even that of the hypo- 
 crite, I do not know that I need accuse myself, seeing I 
 generally find it so difficult to keep hope of any sort alive 
 in my breast. Indeed to thee I may say, in our recipro- 
 cal freedom, that one of my sorest conflicts is, and has 
 been much of my life, with reiterated temptations, to cast 
 it quite away. And I find, as perhaps thou mayst have 
 also found, that by looking too much outward, either into 
 the general state of the world, at the desolations in our 
 Society, or upon the inexplicable nature of our own indi- 
 vidual trials, these temptations acquire, at seasons, an al- 
 most invincible strength ; so that, by a choice of difficul- 
 ties of the most awful kind, we arc compelled to adopt the 
 apostle's practice, to avert our eyes from these discou- 
 raging prospects, and fix them upon things which are 
 unseen and eternal — upon that power and wisdom which 
 are from above, and which only can deliver us from temp- 
 tation. Yes, my dear friend, though an admirer of the 
 noble faculty of human reason, and, like minds of a simi- 
 lar cast, betrayed, as I often have been, by this admira- 
 tion, into unprofitable theories ; yet I think few have 
 more painfully experienced its utter incompetence to guide 
 us safely through this state of deep probation, or to pre- 
 serve us in a situation of divine acceptance. I have often, 
 very often, been brought down, as from the tree of know- 
 ledge, and the mountain of speculation, and reduced to ex- 
 tremity, wherein, as with the weakness of a little child, 
 and the simplicity of a fool, I have, partly in broken ex- 
 pression, but more frequently in that language which can- 
 
19 
 
 not be uttered, begged for preservation ; — and that the 
 Lord would not forsake me in my passage through this 
 world, which, amidst all that beauty my heart has so 
 much admired and enjoyed, has yet, in the course of its 
 vicissitudes, often assumed in ray view the form of a waste, 
 howling wilderness. Somewhat after this manner, both 
 for myself and my dear friends, wherever scattered out- 
 wardly or however captivated spiritually, I was, after a 
 night partly spent in much exercise, enabled yesterday 
 morning to supplicate with tears. This I esteemed a 
 great favour, as not being at my own command, nor at all 
 congenial to the natural hardness, or, if thou please, unbe- 
 lief of my heart. 
 
 I observe, with concern, that the conflicts of have 
 
 terminated in a conclusion to leave the Society. What- 
 ever they may think, I do not believe they will find a 
 better, though perhaps, to the natural part, an easier 
 way. This conclusion is not, I think, either the result of 
 prejudice or education, but (with such abilities as I pos- 
 sess) of a careful investigation of the subject, with a strong 
 natural propensity towards greater liberty than consistency 
 with our profession allows. For the sake of a way less 
 narrow, and perhaps partly aware and ashamed of my 
 own deviations, than which nothing exposes us more to con- 
 tempt, I have in early life wished I had not been born in 
 the Society. In the folly and exultation of my inexpe- 
 rienced mind, I have said, I could not see the necessity of 
 carrying a badge of Quakerism about me. And yet, 
 after all this, I have been induced, from conviction, to 
 submit to part with things which I once highly valued, 
 and to take up others which I equally despised. And 
 though I am willing to grant that our inconsistencies may 
 
20 
 
 have been stumbling-blocks ; yet I cannot believe that 
 our principles, with all the restraints that they impose, 
 can ever become so in any other view than that wherein 
 Christ crucified was to the Jews a stumbling-block and 
 to the Greeks foolishness. 
 
 I also believe that those peculiar testimonies, as we 
 generally call them, which distinguish us from other re- 
 ligious professions, stand upon an immutable foundation ; 
 being not only consonant with the doctrines of the Gos- 
 pel, and with the rules of the purest morality, but with 
 the deepest researches also, and the most sublime and pro- 
 found philosophy, although at the latter observation I am 
 aware that the world would smile. I vnll venture, however, 
 to ask it, whether silent worship, for which we are perhaps 
 as much distinguished and derided as for any peculiarity 
 we possess, — I would ask the world whether this strange 
 thing will not bear the trial I have proposed. If, there- 
 fore, I were to address these wanderers from our fold, it per- 
 haps would be in the expostulatory language of our Lord, 
 when many were departing from Him, " "Will ye also go 
 away?" reminding them also of Peter's answer, "To 
 whom shall we go?" and without invidious comparison, 
 when all things are fairly taken into account, not forget- 
 ting even our desolations, I think we may say on the pre- 
 sent occasion, " To whom indeed shall we go ?" I trust I 
 can unite with thee in desire that the Truth might arise 
 into dominion, in its own dignified authority ; but we 
 must be willing to wade through low and sufifering times, 
 in patience endeavouring to possess our souls, and thank- 
 ful if our own lives are but mercifully given us for a prey. 
 
21 
 
 No. 12. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1809, 12 mo. 16 — Shoiildst thou ever have reason to 
 suppose that 1 am indeed employed in any service by the 
 great Head of the church, it is because He is still gra- 
 ciously pleased to raise up monuments of his mercy, and 
 witnesses of his power in every age ; and that He sometimes 
 takes these as from among the stones of the street ; because 
 his dear Son came into the world to save sinners, of 
 whom, though in nothing else, I venture to class myself 
 with Paul the apostle ; and further, because in the depth 
 of his unsearchable wisdom He chooses weak things and 
 things that are not — nay, may it not be said, things worse 
 than nothing ? for such I cannot but consider a sinful free 
 agent. Yet by these we are warranted in believing the 
 Omnipotent sometimes condescends to oppose the gigantic 
 though often erring vdsdom of this world. And if ever 
 thy poor unworthy friend should have part or lot in the 
 important business of the Gospel entrusted to him, this is 
 his character, and this is his pedigree, just as it stands un- 
 veiled in his own sight, at which, though somewhat per- 
 plexed, he does not despair. 
 
 The twofold effect which he hopes this finished but de- 
 formed exhibition and exposure of himself will produce 
 upon thy mind is, first, to make thee careful never to view 
 him in any other light, and that thou also fail not, as occa- 
 sions m.ay offer and appear to require it, to remind him of 
 his original — the rock from which he has really been hewn, 
 and the pit from whence he has indeed been digged. 
 
22 
 
 No. 13. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1810, 1 mo. 5. — In following the late draft of love to 
 my Norfolk friends, a hope somewhat cheering attends me, 
 that my views were disinterested ; but what chiefly tends 
 to console my lonely hours is the tender dealing of our 
 Heavenly Father, who always, I believe, viewing the 
 feeblest exertions of his children when directed to his 
 honour, with compassionate regard, has been pleased for 
 the most part since I left Norwich to withhold the con- 
 demnation — for which, as I rode quietly on my way home- 
 wards, whilst the tear of gratitude was at times ready to 
 fall, the melody of the heart ascended to Him, whose holy, 
 glorious, and fearful name stands, and I hope ever will 
 stand, exalted in my view above all blessing and praise. 
 
 I think thou beginnest from one cause or other to 
 know me too well to suppose that my original tempera- 
 ment consists of tender and weeping materials, and will 
 therefore perhaps, as I also do, ascribe every symptom of 
 religious sensibility to the purifying operations of the fire 
 and the hammer. Canst thou not, my dear friend, rejoice 
 with me in the hope, that after many painful and perilous 
 wanderings, I have at length found Him of whom Moses 
 in the law and the prophets did write, Jesus of Nazareth ; 
 and that, in the reduction and humiliation of nature, it is 
 by his grace that I am what I am ? After these observa- 
 tions thou perhaps mayst not find it difficult to believe that 
 my journey home, though long and lonesome, did not feel 
 proportionately tedious. 
 
23 
 
 No. 14. To Elizabeth Storr. 
 
 1810, 1 mo. 23. — I trust our reciprocal regard, which 
 has borne the trial of time and many changeful events, 
 will not now, when life is verging towards its decline, for- 
 sake us ; but (should such make a part of the future felicity 
 of the righteous, and we be happily numbered among 
 them) I would rather hope that this mutual esteem may 
 accompany us into regions celestial, where, with many a 
 dear friend gone before us, we may unite in praising that 
 great and worthy name, which has preserved through many 
 tribulations and temptations, to his heavenly kingdom ; 
 for it is through these, if admitted at all, that we must 
 obtain an entrance. 
 
 Wherefore may we, my dear friend, not looking too 
 much at those we have already passed through " as things 
 which are behind," rather endeavour after a pressing forward 
 " toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God 
 in Christ Jesus." In this pursuit, may we with patience 
 and resignation meet every event which may yet remain as 
 a constituent portion of the full measure of our afflictions. 
 
 My mind has dwelt often in solitude ; and yet to this 
 solitude, though naturally fond of society, I am become 
 much more reconciled than some might suppose. Indeed, 
 the solemnity of my introduction into deep mental retire- 
 ment, and the repetition of strokes over which I had no 
 control, seem, in a language at once dignified and awful, 
 to have proclaimed acquiescence throughout every faculty 
 of the mind. But though thus forbidden to complain, I am 
 still left to feel ; to my severest feelings I endeavour to 
 oppose a consideration of the many favours yet left me ; 
 
24 
 
 among which I think none stands more exalted in my 
 view, than the lengthened time afforded me as an oppor- 
 tunity for bewailing the follies and errors of my youth, 
 and for endeavouring to work out, though at seasons at- 
 tended vnth many fears, the most important business of 
 the soul's salvation. 
 
 No. 15. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1810, 7 21. — As in religious communications, whe- 
 ther on paper or otherwise, I am at seasons made very 
 solicitous that my speech or my writing may not be ■with 
 enticing words of man's wisdom, and that I may know 
 nothing in this way but Christ Jesus and Him crucified ; 
 so I am also desirous, though almost despairing the attain- 
 ment, that in the ordinary transactions of life, in my friend- 
 ships, my business, and my unavoidable intercourse with 
 the world, I may so abide under the power of this cross, 
 that every thought, word, and deed may be to the glory 
 of Him who has borne long with me, done much for me, 
 and to whom my obligations may, without exaggeration, 
 be said to be infinite. "With this glorious mark for the 
 prize of our high calling before me, I am often ready to 
 groan under a feeling of my infirmities, but am at seasons 
 a little supported by the consideration, that though we 
 have no sufiiciency of ourselves to think anything as of 
 ourselves, yet we have an omnipotent and all-sufficient 
 Helper. May we by faithfulness, obedience, and cleaving 
 close to Him be made full partakers both of the joys and 
 benefits of his salvation and redeeming love. 
 
2.-) 
 
 No. 10. To Joseph Gukney. 
 
 1810, 9 mo. 10. — I might indeed, if not uncomnionly 
 diill, derive much instruction from the nature of my em- 
 plo3-ment, of whicli perliaps few poetical lines are more 
 justly descriptive than those which say 
 
 " The farmer's life displays in every part 
 A moral lesson to the sensual heart :" 
 
 and may we not with equal truth add, spiritual instruc- 
 tion also to the well-disposed and attentive mind ? The 
 husbandman, whilst exposed to the vicissitudes of the 
 weather and the changes of the seasons, deeply interested 
 also as he is in them, must have the fairest opportunity for 
 making observations upon their effects. Tiie lilies arrayed 
 in simple yet elegant loveliness, and the ravens fed by the 
 same providential hand, are familiar objects to his sight. 
 And if I may once more boast, I do not remember a time 
 when I have seemed to myself more disposed to be in- 
 structed by what we commonly call the operations of na- 
 ture, than in the present very changeful summer, in whicli 
 perhaps the feelings of the community at large have ex- 
 perienced as much fluctuation as we ever remember from the 
 same causes. The late auspicious appearance for getting 
 in the harvest has been particularly striking, being, if we 
 may so speak, ushered in by a day as likely to create de- 
 spondency in the farmer's mind as any I ever knew. 
 What sentiments of gratitude and of confidence ought such 
 a circumstance to inspire, teaching us in everything to 
 give thanks ; and to believe, that though wintry seasons 
 are in wisdom ordained, and storms permitted to interrupt 
 
 c 
 
26 
 
 even the tranquillity of summer's cheerful hours, yet these 
 are but for an appointed time, and for a determined pur- 
 pose ! The sun again breaks forth with undiminished 
 splendour ; the vegetable kingdom again expands with re- 
 newed beauty to his enlivening beams ; the voice of the 
 turtle and the singing of the birds are again heard in our 
 land. May we then, under the most unfavourable ap- 
 pearances, learn to trust, and not be afraid with slavish 
 and unprofitable fear. 
 
 Thy observations upon that sort of anxiety from which 
 I often suffer, have induced me in my own way to attempt 
 something like its analysis ; by which I tliink I have 
 already discovered a considerable portion of it to originate 
 in those selfish regards, as to sufferings and enjoyments, 
 which are incompatible with entire resignation to the 
 divine will. Though I am willing, at the same time, to 
 hope that another part of it may proceed from that fear 
 which tends to keep the heart clean, and from a necessary 
 jealousy over our naturally corrupt and deceitful hearts. 
 
 I apprehend we shall both acknowledge that we are at 
 times rewarded beyond what we could ask or think ; and 
 still more beyond what we should presume to say we have 
 deserved. This reward I believe thou wilt not regret to 
 be informed was, as I apprehend, mercifully vouchsafed to 
 me after we parted, in crossing " dreary Marshland" to- 
 wards my own solitary habitation ; though I cannot tell 
 wherefore, except for being willing, I hope, to enter into 
 brotherly sympathy with the few friends at Lynn ; and, 
 having known the heart of a wanderer, to pity the wan- 
 derers there. 
 
 On riding along, I was permitted not only to behold, 
 but I trust in some measure to appreciate the value of a 
 
27 
 
 privilege, which, judging by my own experience, I should 
 conclude to be rare, that of being enabled not only to offer 
 sacrifice in the secret and solemn sanctuary of the heart ; 
 but also as inhabitants of the material world, to worship 
 the Creator of all things in the august temple of the uni- 
 verse, when divested of all narrow and selfish considera- 
 tions we feel so forcibly our intimate union and connexion 
 with all the workmanship of the Divine hand, that with- 
 out reluctance we can say to corruption, " Thou art my 
 father, and to the worm, thou art my motlier and my sis- 
 ter." In fine, when we so feelingly fraternize with uni- 
 versal nature, tliat towards existence generally our love 
 seems unlimited as surrounding space ; but towards man 
 in particular our charity is as expansive and exalted, as 
 the magnificent canopy of the overarching heavens. 
 
 No. 17. To Joseph and Jane Gurney. 
 
 1811, 1 mo. 9. — To pain, my breast was no stranger in 
 a journe)' lately taken, on beholding the dereliction of 
 many from the good old way wherein our fathers walked 
 and praised the Lord : whilst I at once pity and mourn 
 over the subjects of this departure, I cannot help craving 
 earnestly that our Society might become as it were more 
 consolidated into one body, not only by profession but by 
 practice — might acknowledge but one God, and his name 
 One, and might act upon the full persuasion, tliat there is 
 indeed but one Lord, one faith, and one baptism which 
 can save, even the baptism or washing of regeneration, 
 and renewing of the Holy Ghost. 
 
 c 2 
 
28 
 
 No. 18. To Joseph Gurney Bevan. 
 
 J811, 3 mo. 1 7- — W^hether to the effect of religious fel- 
 lowship, to the sympathy of minds, which, though differ- 
 ently situated and circumstanced, may yet possibly possess 
 some affinity of temperament, or to the social interest of a 
 cotemporary mariner, not always indeed in sight, but tra- 
 versing the ocean of time in the same direction, and bound 
 to the same port ; — to which of these, or whether to them 
 all combined, I am at a loss to ascribe the inclination I 
 feel to address thee in brotherly and affectionate freedom. 
 
 Ever since my knowledge of thee, for I can scarcely call 
 it an acquaintance, I have felt towards thee a sincere re- 
 gard, founded upon qualities which appeared to me to 
 merit esteem. As the love of God in Christ Jesus has I 
 trust, been gradually magnified in my view, and love to 
 the brethren consequently increased, this esteem has, not 
 only for thee, but for all those who I have reason to suppose 
 are engaged in the cause of truth and righteousness, refined, 
 as it were, into a kinder affection and solicitude ; so that, 
 as I view some of these, by an increase of dedication and 
 humility, preparing for immortality, their outward man at 
 the same time tending to decay, I am at times affected by 
 the anticipation of those feelings, which I apprehend will 
 be mine, should it be my lot to survive them. In a silent 
 and sleepless hour, the remembrance of you and the state of 
 your health was lately brought before me, in the consider- 
 ation whereof, desires arose that, as you approached the 
 awful valley, your spirits might be favoured with adequate 
 support, that they might be safely conducted through it, 
 and received on its further confines by the welcome of 
 
4 
 
 29 
 
 Him who has, I believe, been long the beloved of your 
 souls, the chiefest of ten thousand in your view. 
 
 Though we have long personally known each other, yet 
 as thou art probably but little acquainted with my mental 
 history, and mayst therefore bo ready to consider some of 
 the foregoing expressions to be too strong or highly co- 
 loured, I am free to say, that, if a capacity to feel for 
 others be any quality of mine, I have received it not so 
 much by words as by things, and this in the house of 
 mourning — my heart, naturally obdurate and unbelieving, 
 having been brought to its present state of faith and love, 
 whatever this may be, by repeated baptisms in the trou- 
 bled yet healing waters of affliction. From one of these 
 I am scarcely now emerging, having but within a few 
 days returned home from watching the progress of a dis- 
 order, which conducted my eldest daughter, about fifteen, 
 to the silent grave. Though I tenderly loved her, yet I 
 am probably more affected by a sense of loss, from the 
 disappointed hope which this loss has occasioned ; having 
 indulged the fond hope, that this dear girl, who had 
 finished her education, and under the care of valuable re- 
 lations was receiving domestic instruction, might in a few 
 years have succeeded her late mother as the female head 
 of my family, the pleasant companion of iicr elder brother, 
 the instructress of my younger children, and (where, alas ! 
 does not hope lead us ! ) the solace of my declining days, 
 for all which she held out very promising expectations. 
 So that thou wilt not, I think, be surprised to hear me 
 say that nature feels much on this occasion ; but blessed 
 be the Lord, who does not forsake, but enables me to bend 
 under it, both by affording me the very consoling belief, 
 that the dear departed child is entered .into rest, and by 
 
30 
 
 superadding the tender sj-nipathy of several dear and af- 
 fectionate friends, and, — may I add — by tendering my spirit 
 before Him. 
 
 Apprehending that even to the pilgrim who is provided 
 in the most ample manner for his journey a cup of water 
 may sometimes be palatable, and that this simple draught 
 may, perhaps, never be more grateful than from the hand 
 which has not more to give ; — thus recommended, I ven- 
 ture to hope that the present little effusion of love may 
 not prove wholly unacceptable, should it only present to 
 thy view one more of thy hitherto secretly sympathizing 
 and affectionate friends. 
 
 Xo. 19. To Joseph GrRXEY. 
 
 1811, 3 mo. 23. — The expression of thine and thy wife's 
 sympathy, which, with a similar offering from another hand, 
 met me at Holbeach on my return from the burial of my 
 dear daughter jMary, were, I have thought, equally kind 
 and seasonable in contributing to counteract a depression 
 which, notwithstanding all my endeavours after resigna- 
 tion, I find it difficult properly to bear up against. 
 
 Former experience has convinced me that, though we 
 may have to travel over dreary ground, we must not think 
 of taking up a rest here, indeed that no rest can be found 
 upon it, but more probably a total discomfiture and over- 
 throw both of faith and practice, and I am not even yet 
 A\"illinof to die a death so ingflorious : for the Christian 
 warfare, erroneous as the general notion is concerning it, 
 appears to me both noble and dignified. Thus thinking, 
 I have fled from despondency to resources ; and whilst I 
 seize with eager gratitude the proffered hand of friendship, 
 
31 
 
 I search the Scriptures, and endeavour to bow my soul 
 before Him, who is not only described therein as " walk- 
 ing in darkness," but as the succour of the afflicted. I trust 
 these endeavours have not been entirely fruitless, as I find 
 myself enabled to lift up my head in hope that all may 
 still work together for my good, to which I am further 
 encouraged by the apprehension that some important truths 
 have been, in the course of the present dispensation, more 
 deeply than ever impressed upon my mind. 
 
 No. 20. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1811, 4 mo. 17- — It appears to me a good sign when 
 we can relish scenes of affliction, and when we find the 
 attention of our minds turning from the dazzling objects, 
 and slippery ways of gaiety and greatness, and gently in- 
 clinincr — for He whose tender mercies are over all his 
 works does not break that which is willing to bend, — I 
 therefore say gently inclining, as I have somewhere seen 
 it agreeably expressed, 
 
 " To bend to sorrow's path, for that alone 
 Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown." 
 
 This, though a true, appears a strange doctrine, not only 
 to the votaries of pleasure, but to those also who are at 
 ease in their possessions, and have nothing to vex them. 
 It once would have appeared strange to me ; and though 
 the avidity with which, in my most ignorant and imbe- 
 lieving days, I pursued through a variety of its fleeting 
 forms, transitory and unsubstantial enjoyments ; though 
 this blind eagerness received an early and a severe check, 
 yet I have even in the cool of the day painfully to 
 
32 
 
 acknowledge my journeying from the land of bondage to 
 have been by tardy and devious steps, and my progress 
 towards a better country to have been, to be, attended 
 with many, I fear voluntary, interruptions ; and after all 
 that I have seen, heard, and felt, I find it to be still a 
 trial, and at times no small one, to keep things below in 
 their proper places, to use this world as not abusing it, and 
 amidst divers other instances wherein danoer lies, as it 
 were in ambush, not to love the dear relations and friends 
 which yet remain to me, out of the divine will, or with a 
 selfish and unsanctified affection. 
 
 No. 21. To Joseph Gurney Bevan. 
 
 1811, 12 mo. 26. — I was desirous of convincing thee 
 that a retrospect of my life always affords matter enough 
 for real humiliation, without the necessity of affecting an 
 appearance of it ; and though nothing is more true, yet I 
 stand self- condemned for adding something like an appeal 
 to Omniscience for its verity,* which I believe is a practice 
 so seldom, if ever necessary, that in judgment it has my 
 disapprobation, and I seldom observe it in others without 
 concern, believing that the sacred name, under any of the 
 various forms by which it is expressed, ought never to be 
 taken or used in vain ; that truth is never so lovely as 
 when unadorned, or seldom more convincing than when 
 resting solely upon its own evidence ; — and that members of 
 our Society never act more, or so consistently, as when 
 they speak its language with the simplicity of little chil 
 dren, whose beautiful example in this and some other par- 
 ticulars I often admire as worthy of imitation. 
 
 * Alluding to a former letter. 
 
33 
 
 The longer I view thine and thy dear wife's present 
 trials, the more I consider them as partaking of the nature 
 of that food which seems not so much adapted to rearing 
 and nursing the Christian character as maturing it ; and 
 this character is perhaps seldom fully perfected without 
 some portion of strong, and it may be unpalatable meat, 
 such as an infant could neither relish nor digest, but which 
 is yet found to yield nutriment to minds prepared for its 
 reception. Such I hope and trust are yours, and that 
 you will, through condescending and continued mercy, 
 not only be kept in safety through the remaining portion 
 of your time on earth, but that your disembodied spirits 
 will, in the appointed season, ascend triumphantly to the 
 happy realms of light and love. Yes, my dear friends, 
 the remembrance of you is attended with feelings for wliich, 
 on my account also, I am thankful, having learned to prize 
 as an especial favour that tenderness of spirit which some- 
 times accompanies the contemplation of suffering humanity ; 
 and which, without wholly removing, relieves in a com- 
 fortable, and I have thought a profitable manner, the pain 
 occasioned thereby, mixing a portion of sweetness in the 
 cup of sorrow, humbling, but not breaking or even wound- 
 ing, the heart ; and by this wonderful process begetting 
 renewed aspirations for our own preservation, and for that 
 also of every son and daughter of affliction. 
 
 No. 22. To . 
 
 1812, 2 mo. 5. — If my own heart does not very much 
 deceive me, I am solicitous that nothing may ever escape 
 me which may the most remotely tend to make those sad 
 whom the Lord hath not made sad ; and I am by no 
 
 c 5 
 
34 
 
 means aware of its being my business to make you sor- 
 rowful. On considering your relative position, both spiri- 
 tual and natural, to the dear and interesting young people 
 around you, it appears to me important, and therefore I 
 am desirous to hold out encouragement, not dismay. And 
 this is the encouragement which I wish to impart ; that 
 as in the unfoldings of light and love, you may discover 
 necessity and receive strength, you may, thus qualified, 
 endeavour to draw those amiable characters more closely 
 within the garden enclosed ; or, in other words, within 
 the warm and maternal bosom of religious fellowship and 
 communion, as enjoyed in the sacred pale of the church of 
 Christ. And O that no depressing apprehension of weak- 
 ness, unfitness, or any other discouraging cause may pre- 
 vent you from thus attempting in simplicity and sincerity 
 to do whatever your hands may find to do in the corner 
 of the Lord's vineyard, where, by his providence, your lot 
 has been appointed ! Here let me say, that if I fear more 
 for you in one respect than another, it is lest a retrospective 
 view of the painful circumstances to which you have been 
 witnesses should operate too powerfully upon your minds. 
 
 Such, I believe, is the unutterable love and mercy of 
 our Heavenly Father, that if we cry to Him from this 
 valley of humiliation and abasement, He will not turn a 
 deaf ear to our lowly petition, nor cast us utterly olf ; but, 
 through the merits and suiFerings of his dear Son, our only 
 Saviour, will forgive us the past, and if we are really willing 
 to enter, will admit us, even at the ninth or eleventh hour, 
 as labourers into his vineyard. So that though a restora- 
 tion to divine favour and regard is certainly the most im- 
 portant concern of human life, it appears to me, happily 
 for poor bewildered mortals, to be a simple one — to cast 
 
35 
 
 our repentant souls at the footstool of infinite but mime- 
 rited mercy ; to implore the knowledge of our present 
 duty, taking all circumstances as they are ; and when, as 
 thus sought for I believe it would be, the divine mind is 
 unfolded to us, to be especially careful that faithfulness 
 keeps pace with knowledge. This seems to me to be the 
 direct and only way to peace here, and the only sure foun- 
 dation for a well-grounded hope of happiness hereafter. 
 Accordingly, I wish to recommend it with equal solicitude 
 to my dear friends as to my own soul. 
 
 No. 23. To Joseph and Catherine Foster.* 
 
 1812, 3 mo. 18. — I have for some years past had at 
 times to struggle with a painful complaint. This disorder 
 seems at length to have settled in dullness of hearing, ac- 
 companied with and perhaps partly occasioned by a confused 
 and disturbing noise in the upper part of the head, which 
 without much pain puts me off in a very considerable de- 
 gree both from the pleasures and the benefits of social life. 
 
 Yet under all, how many reasons do I find for thankful- 
 ness to that Being whose tender mercies are over all., and 
 whose divine superintendence extends to the numbering 
 of our hairs, and to the caring for sparrows ! And for no- 
 thing am I aware of being more thankful than for this 
 tliankfulness, a disposition not at my own command. So 
 that I am enabled to receive this additional trial, — a very 
 gentle one indeed when compared with some I liave had 
 to pass through, but of none would I complain, — not only 
 with a small degree of patience, but of hope — a liope that as 
 it is entirely out of my own control, it may not only be found 
 convenient for me, but a portion of my present daily bread. 
 
 * Of Oustwick, in Yorkshire. 
 
36 
 
 No. 24. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1812, 5 7)10. 8. — I much regret there ever having ex- 
 isted such an idolatrous monster as the mythology of the 
 ancients, and decidedly disapprove anything in the conver- 
 sation or writings of professing Christians that may any 
 way tend to perpetuate its remembrance. Such a prac- 
 tice appears to me to expose those who are in it, as every 
 other inconsistency must do, to the pity and the blame of 
 the believer on one hand, and to the arrows of the sceptic 
 on the other. 
 
 Thou seemest apprehensive of not having treated my 
 " plaint" with sufficient respect. Banish these fears, I 
 entreat thee : kindness is perhaps as much as I can bear ■ 
 and anything further might only keep me whining — a 
 practice, of which, often as I fall into it, I am sometimes 
 ashamed. I was made so rather oddly the other day by 
 picking up a book of Rachel's, where it was recorded of 
 Prince Le Boo, that in his last illness he only complained 
 to his pliysicians for relief, not to his friends for pity. The 
 recollection of my letters to thee, the last especially, imme- 
 diately occurred to me, attended with reflections which 
 have in part operated as a secondary cause for not resum- 
 ing my pen. For such is the nature of human pride, at 
 least in one heart, that though it has received- many a 
 deadly wound, it still is found to live, and like the repeat- 
 edly lacerated meadow, shoots up again and again, whenever 
 the weather is favourable. So that he of whom I speak, 
 though often brought to confess his own nothingness, feels 
 also at other times a freshly budding desire to be some- 
 thins; — somethincr more like a man, accordinff to the 
 notions of that specious but erring school, whose maxims 
 
37 
 
 he once so much admired. How far this folly might carry 
 me may be difficult to say^ did not the Physician of value, 
 who has graciously offered himself in the most dan- 
 gerous paroxysms of my feverish life, renewedly interpose 
 to cure me of this manly conceit — a conceit unworthy of 
 the babe in Christ. My cure, however, in such hands is 
 ea.sily affected : it is but commanding the " wind" to blow 
 briskly ; then who so ready to cry, " Lord, save, or I 
 perish ; " who so willing to lean upon a brother, even whilst 
 the petition secretly ascends from my agitated breast ? 
 
 As I never was sensible of such a degree of tenderness 
 for ministers in our Society as since, for the sake of peace, 
 1 have ventured to uncover my head in meetings, so my 
 sympathy for the widowed of either sex, and their fatherless 
 or motherless children, has much increased since beingf 
 made an experimental witness of their situation : for these 
 I ever hope to heave a sigh, however personally unknown 
 to me. Consequently, I did not read unmoved thy affect- 
 ing account of the recent death of one of the heads of the 
 Kerrick family. To the survivors, should opportunity 
 offer and thou think it would be acceptable, please to 
 present the expression of a stranger's fellow-feeling and 
 friendly regard. May Israel's Immanuel be found to be 
 their Husband and Father. This I cannot doubt will be 
 their happy experience as they are concerned to seek to 
 Him for such protection. 
 
 I suppose thou wilt, after making such kind inquiry, 
 expect me to say something of my health, which I think 
 upon the whole is rather better, though I still continue 
 very dull of hearing. At our Quarterly Meeting, which I 
 managed to attend, I could scarcely hear anything, but 
 was encouraged in believing that jiothing suffered from my 
 
38 
 
 being set aside. This, witli observing as I left Lincoln 
 how many people were thi-onging to the market, led me to 
 consider the little importance I was of to the world, either 
 temporally or spiritually. This was a lesson which to 
 this hour I think it might be worth wliile ooinof to Lin- 
 coin to receive, as it placed first person singular upon a 
 low and quiet seat, which at times he has much enjoyed 
 since, and hopes often to enjoy it hereafter. 
 
 No. 25. To Elizabeth Storr. 
 
 1812, 8 mo. 30. — The kind attentions and opinions of 
 my friends sometimes humble me ; for though I think 
 I behold in the practice of Christianity a beautiful and 
 inestimable object to aim at, and am at times concerned to 
 recommend the glorious attainment of it to others, j'et in 
 pressing after it my own conflicts are such, that I can 
 pretty often feelingly apply to myself this line of one of 
 our admired poets — 
 
 "For me^ scarce hopuig to obtain that rest." 
 
 Is it not strange, that after all I have in mercy sufi'ered, 
 there should yet be in me the least inclination to deviate 
 from the paths of holiness and peace, or to linger in the 
 way of manifested duty ? In spite of self-love this is 
 surprising, and must surely rank among the most incontest- 
 able proofs of a fallen nature, and of the consequent need 
 I have of a compassionate and powerful Eedeemer. These 
 considerations are humbling to the natural mind ; but let 
 us not faint, though I am ready to think that not only 
 myself, but many others cannot dwell much too low to be 
 just above despair. Tliis might appear almost to some a 
 
39 
 
 frightful sentiment, but it will not, I believe, much alarm 
 thee ; for it may probably form a part of thy experience, 
 that those who know the most of their Creator and tlieni ■ 
 selves, are by this knowledge baptized into deep humilia- 
 tion ; yea, such at seasons is their abasement under a view 
 of the Divine mercy and forbearance on one hand, and 
 their own omissions and commissions on the other, that 
 with the poor publican they are not only ready to smite 
 upon the breast, but are even prepared to go a little way 
 with the scribe also, in concluding themselves not as other 
 men are. 
 
 Here their paths divide : it was the effect of his self- 
 rigliteousness to think himself better than others, but it is 
 that of the Christian's self-knowledge to feel himself, worse 
 than those with whom he was acquainted, so that taking 
 all things into the account, he charges himself, as the great 
 Apostle did, with being the chief of sinners. But when 
 brought to such a sight and sense as this, may the repent- 
 ing and returning prodigal never forget that he has a 
 Saviour, a Mediator, an Advocate with the Father ; and 
 may he never forget tremblingly to rejoice in Him. For 
 if there be a class of mankind who are more than others 
 the objects of redeeming love and mercy, it might seem to 
 be these sinners, the unwortliiest and vilest of the human 
 race. So that to my own often depressed mind I would 
 say, " As thou hast received mercy, and hast tasted that 
 the Lord is gracious, see that thou faint not, nor grow 
 weary in well-doing." 
 
 My hearing is restored, and with my general health 
 has, since my returning from the yearly meeting, been 
 pretty good. My friend C. F. has charitably supposed 
 me to be established upon a foundation which the privation 
 
40 
 
 of these might not materially affect. I hope this may in 
 some degree be the case. 3Iy prospects are indeed much 
 changed, so that when I can hope myself within the pale 
 of mercy, death appears rather as a friend than an enemy. 
 I feel with poor Job, that " I would not live always ; " that 
 my sins and follies, with their needful corrections, have so 
 embittered the present state of being, as to make it, upon 
 the whole, a wearisome though an important pilgrimage. 
 I am thankful, however, under all my prospects, past, 
 present, and future, for a desire which attends me, that 
 patience may have its perfect work, and that I may wait 
 in humble resignation the appointed time till my change 
 come ; and not only so, but endeavour to be content and 
 thankful for the many blessings, both spiritual and tempo- 
 ral, which are still graciously vouchsafed to me amongst 
 which I remember " friendship's cordial balm." 
 
 No. 26. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1813, 1 mo. 7. — I am desirous of keeping in myself an 
 eye of faith and hope (1 speak with reverence) steadily 
 fixed upon that God from whose bosom Jesus descended 
 to this lower world, and iipon that heaven to which He 
 ascended when He left it, and where, as our Advocate, He 
 now sits enthroned in glory at the right hand of his 
 Father, making intercession for us. So that whilst I 
 unequivocally allow that no man knoweth the Father but 
 the Son, and he to whom the Son will reveal Him ; that 
 this revelation of the Son is in and by the Spirit ; and that 
 the manifestations of this Spirit are in the heart ; yet I am 
 also cheered and consoled by the intellectual prospect or 
 hope which I have just been faintly attempting to describe, 
 
41 
 
 though I find it difficult to express by words an idea so 
 full of beatitude. 
 
 No. 27. To Elizabeth Storr. 
 
 1813, 1 mo. 18. — The loneliness of my situation has 
 been principally occasioned by the breaking up of our 
 small seminary last spring, and the consequent separation 
 of our dear children. It has sometimes happened that I 
 have been left to discover as well as I could, the advan- 
 tages and disadvantages, not merely of retirement, but of 
 solitude. If I were to risk one thought on the subject, it 
 perhaps might be, that just enough agreeable company to 
 change the latter into the former, may be one of those 
 cases in which innocent enjoyment and real advantage are 
 combined. It is, however, best of all to endeavour after 
 contentment, to follow circiimstances, and by no means to 
 repine, though tremblingly alive to the succession of 
 changes, and many of them afflicting ones, of which those 
 who live even to our age are not unfrequently made the 
 sorrowing spectators. Long accustomed, however, to 
 these scenes, reconciled also in good measure to ourselves, 
 through the adorable mercies of — may we not hope ? — a 
 reconciled Father, Avith whom we have a constant and 
 powerful Advocate, even the same Jesus who died for ns, 
 and now liveth to make intercession for us ; and that 
 nothing may be wanting on the part of heaven, liveth also 
 in us, to comfort the mourners ; and whilst lie cheers 
 their solitude, guides them on their way. (In tliis three- 
 fold relation of Sacrifice, Advocate, and Leader, can we 
 enough admire the fulness, the ample sufficiency of the 
 Redeemer's character? — of which this simple, but, I think, 
 just view, seems as much as any other, not only to give us 
 
42 
 
 an exalted idea, but to excite also a profound and reason- 
 able adoration.) 
 
 I was tberefore about to say, that with such an expe- 
 rience of this world as rolling years have afforded us, and 
 with tliat view of a better state for which we have such a 
 hope set before us, shall we complain too much when that 
 which is mortal dies, or when that which we know to be 
 transient passeth away ? But here let me pause and recol- 
 lect, that if I am preaching, it is to myself, and that I am 
 addressing one who is much more likely to possess her 
 soul in patience, not only under outward trial, but in that 
 secret poverty of spirit which she has described, and which, 
 notwithstanding her fears, I would encourage her to be- 
 lieve is of the right kind. 
 
 No. 28. — To Joseph Gurxey. 
 
 1813, 1 mo. 21. — I seem but indifferently qualified for 
 entering into the important subjects of thy letter. So 
 far as I can judge, thy lines are in no way derogatory to 
 the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, one God, blessed for 
 ever. Just before the receipt of thine, in writing to a 
 friend, my subject led me to speak of the amplitude and 
 sufficiency of the redeeming plan, as exemplified in the 
 three prominent relations of our Saviour's character. I 
 mean, as a sacrifice for sin, to all who avail themselves 
 thereof by faith and repentance, manifested by corres- 
 pondent fruits ; as an advocate with the Father, for the 
 imperfection and weakness wherewith even the sincere but 
 trembling disciple endeavours to follow his steps ; and, 
 finally, as an inward leader in the way of holiness and 
 peace. This is the one only Saviour in whom I trust, 
 neither expecting nor desiring another ; and I think this 
 
43 
 
 simple but important view of Him does not clash with 
 thine, though I am aware it does not go to the extent of 
 the question as it respects the unity of the divine nature, 
 in which I unequivocally believe. As to its essence or 
 mode, I am content to be ignorant, seeing it is one of 
 those secrets which Infinite Wisdom has seen meet to 
 hide from mortal ken ; and does it not seem a greater 
 proof of folly than of wisdom, to be continually strain- 
 ing our eyes in attempts to see that which we are told 
 is invisible ? — and such are the modes of spiritual ex- 
 istences, with their connexions and operations. Did not 
 Jesus mean to guard us against this vain curiosity when 
 he compared the influence of his Spirit to the wind, which, 
 though it might be heard and felt, could not be seen ? 
 
 * * In respect to the mind, with thankfulness I may 
 acknowledge myself pretty comfortable, not feeling much, 
 if any, " condemnation;" and though, perhaps, a sigh or a 
 tear, which in the day I endeavoured to conceal, may 
 escape me in the silent watches of the night, yet even 
 these have lately been of a kind which I can cordially 
 welcome. I have been further encouraged by the circum- 
 stance of clearer vision, on some points important to my- 
 self, having of late been graciously afforded me, enabling 
 me, I trust, to make a little advance out of self, and into 
 Him — (which, perhaps, is a consequence) — in whom only 
 are sufficiency and peace. 
 
 No. 29. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 181.3, 3 mo. 6. — Allow me to rejoice with thee in the 
 hope, that our inquiries into the truths and doctrines of the 
 Christian faith have resulted in an increased confirmation 
 of their undeniable evidence, and an increased degree of 
 
44 
 
 establishment in these simple doctrines, these sublime but 
 effulgent truths. Yes, whether we turn the sceptical 
 or the orthodox page, with a mind unprejudiced, and de- 
 sirous of coming at a knowledge of the truth, I think con- 
 viction in favour of Christianity must invariably follow. 
 Thouoli at the same time I am free to acknowledge, that 
 I have scarcely been less edified by anything of a serious 
 nature, than by the casuistical disquisitions of Christian 
 rabbles. 
 
 These recorded imaginations may be compared to sum- 
 mer insects, which annoy and hinder rather than benefit 
 the traveller ; and accordingly we find it necessary to 
 defend ourselves against, not encourage them. And as we 
 should doubt the sanity of that man who recorded every 
 passing idea, so if these doctors could see, as I fancy may 
 be seen, how much they veil instead of elucidate, or, as 
 some one has better expressed it, entwine rather than en- 
 shrine the object of their speculations, though in itself a 
 glorious one, — could they see this, they would be more 
 sparing both of comment and controversy, and in this pro- 
 fitable pause might be instructed to employ their learning 
 and talents (for it is granted they possess both) more to 
 the peace of their own minds and the benefit of the world. 
 
 No. 30. To Joseph Gurxey. 
 
 1813, 5 mo. 7.— Shall I tell thee that I have a little 
 vocabulary' of words and phrases, which I believe, as to 
 the sense in which they are commonly used, want a more 
 careful revision and correction than they generally appear 
 to obtain ? Fate, fortune, with its various combinations, 
 accident, or chance, infinite, and some others, seem to be 
 often so misapplied and perverted, as in the true spirit of 
 
45 
 
 heathenism and infidelity, to give an imaginary import- 
 ance to shadows, and this too by the senseless and affect- 
 ing exclusion of a Providence, not only from liis general 
 superintendence, but from those particular cases wherein 
 He might rationally be recognised, and ought devoutly to 
 be acknowledged. 
 
 There is also a practice in the higher circles of social 
 intercourse, with which I have a decided controversy. I 
 mean that hyperbolical form of speech, which, probably 
 originated among the rich and the learned, and from them 
 descended into the ranks of humbler life, so that now in- 
 stead of being 
 
 " Pleased with a feather, tickled with a straw," 
 
 we hear of people being transported to ecstasy from no 
 higher causes ; and should a shower prevent a morning's 
 walk, a slight pain or unwelcome tidings abridge any 
 earthly enjoyment, they cannot stop at disappointment or 
 uneasiness — low and insipid expressions; — their nobler 
 spirits must take a bolder leap ; and were we to take them 
 literally, we might suppose them plunged into the slougli 
 of despond, or thrown headlong from the rock of irrecover- 
 able ruin. 
 
 I suppose thou must meet with many such instances as 
 these ; and shouldst thou ask how I come to be so know- 
 ing in the manners of the great, the answer must be, that 
 as the high and the low seldom come near enough to 
 touch, the man of middle station standing between them 
 reaches a hand to each, and keeping his eyes and ears 
 open, conveys messages, or renders them any other service 
 in his power ; for whatever some of them may think, none 
 of these classes can subsist independently of each other. 
 
46 
 
 No. 31. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1813, 8 mo. 23. — I have been generally favoured with 
 health since we saw each other, which has perhaps en- 
 abled nie tlie better to bear up under other difficulties that 
 have for many weeks been my close attendants. These 
 have proceeded from various causes, though none of them, 
 I jiresume, uncommon to the poor probationer, man, during 
 this his scene of trial. There are, however, two leading 
 circumstances, which seem to include nearly all the rest, 
 and whicli, from their analogy to those great obstacles of 
 a seaman's hope that keep him most aloof from his desired 
 haven, I shall designate by the terms storm and stagnation. 
 
 By these are the faith and patience of the Christian 
 mariner frequently proved ; and by these, if he mistake 
 not, has the mind of thy poor solitary brother been much, 
 of late, alternately exercised. But the former having 
 through mercy somewhat subsided, and the latter, as I 
 humbly trust, been renewedly breathed upon by that 
 creative Spirit, which in the beginning is said to have 
 moved upon the face of the waters, T am hereby enabled, 
 in a deofree of the tenderness and contrition which conflict 
 is sometimes found to produce, to hope that surely some 
 good, either to myself or others, may one day arise out of 
 so much suffering ; — though this is a hope that, after all 
 I have known of Divine goodness and mercy, I find, from 
 the frailty and unworthiness of the creature, it is very 
 difficult at seasons to maintain, or even to lay hold of. 
 
 On looking back, marvellous indeed do appear the mys- 
 terious overturnings of the Lord's hand, in dealing with his 
 children for their instruction and profit — all, no doubt, 
 
47 
 
 necessary. Surely neither the work of the soul's redemp- 
 tion, nor the preparation for service, is of man, or by 
 man, neither come they with outward observation. May 
 I, therefore, and may all the called of the IMost High, 
 be more and more willing to enter into the state of fools 
 and little children, that so we may in due time become 
 filled with the wisdom and righteousness of Him who ever 
 was and remains to be " all in all," to his truly dependent 
 ones. 
 
 No. 32. To Joseph Gurnev. 
 
 1813, 9 mo. 18. — Thou seemest not to know, and almost 
 to inquire, whether I am naturally more prone to mourn 
 or to rejoice ; to which I am free to give this unequivocal 
 answer, that there was a time in my life when, imitating 
 certainly not the wisest conduct of him who was called 
 the wisest king, I withheld not my heart from (scarcely) 
 any joy within its reach ; but the time is now arrived 
 when, for several of my latter years, I am not conscious of 
 having entirely withdrawn the same heart from any sor- 
 row with which a just and wise Providence has seen meet 
 to visit it. Though here I must acknowledge, that my 
 endeavours after an entire acquiescence in the Divine will 
 have been attended with so much qualm and shrinking, as 
 to make this important business, on retrospect, appear to 
 myself to have been so far poorly performed, and to be yet 
 very incomplete ; but I trust a disposition to press for- 
 ward still remains. The following incident, though of an 
 inferior cast, may somewhat illustrate my meaning, and 
 show thee in a few words the way wherein I am secretly 
 striving to walk. 
 
48 
 
 I have happened this season to grow some wheat of a 
 kind with whicli I had not before been acquainted. One 
 of its properties seems to be, to break off just under the 
 ear, and almost before it is ripe. As I prefer ripe com, I 
 had suffered one of these fields to become fully so, -when 
 by some turbulent weather, about two weeks since, it was 
 computed I lost nearly one-half. In endeavouring to 
 reconcile my mind to this circumstance, which probably 
 thy religion or philosophy, or both, may say ought not to 
 have disquieted it, — but which, combining as it did the 
 ideas of mismanagement, waste, and disappointed gain, 
 could not fail to operate sensibly on a temperament like 
 mine, — I was quickly made sensible that it would not do 
 to make too much of it, even in soliloquy, and that some- 
 thing must be attempted to silence these inward repinings. 
 In this labour, more severe than reaping, I thought myself 
 helped by remembering tlie seaman's lot, whose life and 
 whose property so often perish in the wave ; and I was 
 still further assisted by recollecting the manner in which 
 
 " The son of patience heard the wreck 
 Of all his fortunes, camels, oxen, flocks, 
 Sons, daughters — all in one sad hour o'erwhelmed." 
 
 Thus renewedly fortified, though I had not the presump- 
 tion to say, "Blow, ye winds," yet I was enabled to viewthe 
 storm, which was of long continuance, sporting as it were 
 with my agricultural credit and profit, in a disposition 
 very different, I trust, from stoical apathy. Wore I to de- 
 scribe this disposition in one word, I perhaps might call it 
 prostration, before a Power who maketh the clouds his 
 chariot, and walketh upon the wings of the wind ; whom 
 also I think we are told the winds and the waves obey. 
 
49 
 
 This humble attitude of soul I can recommend, having 
 found, on occasions of far different importance to that now 
 described, the folly of resisting, and the safety of bending 
 before the tempest, which may thus blow over us, not un- 
 perceived, but with less danger and damage. 
 
 No. 33. To Elizabeth Storr. 
 
 1813, 10 mo. 23. — Among those who have been brought 
 near to me, I may very safely name the family at Oust- 
 wick. May they be preserved from giving place to dismay, 
 as though they were out of the pale of religious fellow- 
 ship, or excluded from the universal privilege of heavenh' 
 regard. Should any be thus tried, let them remember 
 poor Hagar and her infant son, wlio, in a situation tlic 
 most forlorn and abandoned, were still discovered by that 
 penetrating eye which goeth to and fro in the earth, be- 
 holding the evil and the good : and they were not only 
 beheld, but compassionated, " The Lord heard the voice 
 of the lad," where he was, and by his angel comforted the 
 disconsolate mother, giving her also information respecting 
 the present care and future character of her son. Now, as 
 the gracious Being who thus condescended remains un- 
 changeable in his love to man, so I believe nothing can 
 prevent his e}'e from seeing the state of poor and needy 
 souls, nor will anything prevent Him from being attentive 
 to their cry ; and as they are concerned to open their 
 hearts to Him, and cast their whole care upon Him, 
 though He may see meet to try them for a season, yet, 
 in his own time, which is the best time. He, the God of 
 the whole earth, will as surely deliver them as ever He 
 delivered Israel formerly from Egyj)tian bondage ; though, 
 
50 
 
 as in that case, so in the case of individuals who feel 
 themselves solitary and secluded, it may happen that 
 difficulties present themselves which threaten great op- 
 position, and which it may require the interposition of 
 Divine power to remove. Yet let us but patiently wait, 
 and quietly hope ; and we may sometimes have to observe 
 that the Lord will work for us, even whilst we hold our 
 peace, so that ultimately both the real and imaginary ob- 
 jects of our fears shall entirely disappear, like first pre- 
 venting, and then pursuing Pharaoh and his people, and 
 covering them by the waves ; — and as was said of them, 
 we shall see them no more for ever. 
 
 No. 34. To Joseph Gdrney. 
 
 1813, 11 mo. 19. — How wonderful, to the mind which 
 is but moderately attentive to them, are the vicissitudes to 
 which it is liable ! I do not want to attribute everything 
 difficult to be understood to a supernatural cause ; and I 
 know many reasons are assignable for mental change ; but 
 in this day of greater scepticism than superstition, per- 
 haps it will not hurt us to remember that there is a Power 
 which opens and shuts the heart of man at pleasure, and, 
 in scriptural language, turns it as the watercourse in a 
 field. And though we may not always be able to dis- 
 tinguish this operation from other causes, yet sometimes I 
 think we may. And I love sometimes to indulge also, on 
 the most extended scale, in a contemplation of the divine 
 attribute of Omnipotence, in the exercise of those unli- 
 mited and undefinable powers whereby it touches the 
 most powerful and most minute springs of its own ma- 
 chinery, and with equal ease produces efi'ects correspond- 
 
51 
 
 ing with the supreme will, whether in a heart, a universe, 
 or a system of worlds. 
 
 No. 35. To Joseph Foster. 
 
 1814, 1 mo. 27. — As one who is desirous of possessing 
 some claim to Christian character, I am more and more 
 confirmed in my ohjections to war, and, as a man, I think 
 I may say my soul is sick with the reports almost every 
 day produced upon this affecting subject. For though I 
 believe that, in our present state of being, we see but a 
 part of an infinitely vast and incomprehensible plan, and 
 that, therefore, the question, "Whence came evil, and why 
 is it permitted so to ravage and deface the works of a 
 Being possessed of every glorious and every amiable attri- 
 bute ? — I say, though questions of this sort may at times 
 almost involuntarily arise, and the best reply we can 
 make to them may be to lay a hand upon our mouths, 
 thereby acknowledging that they are too wonderful for 
 us — yet, even in this case, I find no difficulty in believing 
 that had sin never entered the world, and death by sin, 
 war, with its unnumbered train of concomitant evils, had 
 been unknown on earth : — and the admission of sin and 
 death were, alas ! by man's consent. 
 
 But whilst I admit, with the apostle, that we see but 
 in part, and am willing to suppose that what I have 
 premised on this subject, or indeed all that I can say on. 
 it, may be no more than a glance through that dark 
 medium which veils more perfect knowledge from us ; 
 yet on a simple recurrence to feeling, — and from the crite- 
 rion of feeling let us never, my dear friend, suffer our- 
 selves to be diverted by the vain and impious attempt of 
 
 D 2 
 
52 
 
 sophistry, — I say, then, upon an appeal to my heart, I 
 find there a testimony against the slaughter of man by his 
 fellow, immutably and indelibly recorded, as an act equally 
 repugnant to religion and reason. It opposes the first, by 
 exhibiting a practical contrast to that divine precept in 
 which justice and mercy are so happily blended, of doing 
 to others as we would they should do to us ; whilst to the 
 latter it is inimical, as being an absurd outrage upon cre- 
 ation, and an insult to a Creator whose tender mercies are 
 over all his works. 
 
 And were it not that this gracious Author of our ex- 
 istence, who wills not the death of a sinner, that this 
 uncontrolable Power, who bridles the jaws of destruction, 
 has mercifully set limits, in every age, to the overwhelm- 
 ing torrent of war, there appears nothing improbable in 
 the supposition, that long before this the whole human 
 race might have fallen a sacrifice to that malevolent spirit, 
 who, taking advantage of our corrupt and degraded nature, 
 has never failed to instigate the ambitious and the cruel to 
 deeds of death and darkness. In support of this senti- 
 ment, to show also the ascendency which evil may obtain 
 over the human mind, and how far it may become assimi- 
 lated to the nature of him who was a murderer from the 
 beginning, it may be siifiicient to instance one of the nu- 
 merous records of history to our purpose, that of a being 
 in tlie shape of a man, who wished that his fellow-crea- 
 tures had but one neck ; and why ? — not that he might 
 strengthen, but separate it. 
 
 Thou mayst be surprised at my dwelling with so much 
 earnestness on this distresing subject, especially when I 
 add that neither conviction nor conversion is my imme- 
 diate object : these important purposes having, I doubt 
 
53 
 
 not, as relating to the present question, been long since 
 effected in thy sensible and feeling mind. But, as thou 
 hast pleasantly remarked in one of thy letters, that an 
 agreement of ideas formed part of the basis of our early 
 friendship, so in this more advanced stage of it, perhaps 
 bringing our thoughts together, even where they corres- 
 pond, may produce, and I hope not unprofitably, a degree 
 of that animating influence which the countenance of a 
 man is said to have upon his friend. At any rate, I seem 
 as if I could rejoice, should this revival of brotherly inter- 
 course prove a means of sharpening in each of us those 
 weapons which are not carnal but spiritual, and whicli, if 
 we do possess them, as I trust is the case, let us neither 
 be afraid nor ashamed of exercising, under tlie direction of 
 Him from whom we have received them, the Prince of 
 Peace, who came on earth not to destroy men's lives, ljut 
 to save them. 
 
 No. 36. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1814, 5 mo. 6. — Whatever may be my experience, I 
 still believe the only true and safe rest to consist in an 
 unlimited surrender and submission to the Divine will. 
 And, oh ! when my poor heart is now and then softened 
 into this disposition, how precious is the experience ! Yes, 
 my dear friend, though under a sense of the greatest un- 
 worthiness, I may do myself the justice to say that the ex- 
 perience just alluded to is indeed prized by me above all 
 price ; so that neither gold nor gems, spices nor perfumes, 
 nor, could it be obtained, even all the superadded favour 
 of all the princes in the universe, bear, in my present esti- 
 mate of things, any comparison with that situation of mind 
 
54 
 
 wherein the denial of our own will, and the doing that of 
 the Creator, is felt to be not more a duty than a delight. 
 But do not imagine from this luxuriance of expression 
 that I am constantly, or even frequently, a possessor of tlie 
 inestimable enjoyment described. No, I neither deserve, 
 nor is it possible that T could bear such a fruition long 
 together, and therefore it may be that the intervals wherein 
 it is vouchsafed seem 
 
 " Like angels' visits, few and far between ;" 
 
 yet let the grateful tribute of thanksgiving and praise 
 ascend before the throne of mercy, that such seasons are 
 ever known by the inhabitants of this lower world, and 
 that even in its remotest solitudes ; and thou wouldst 
 find it difiBcult, my friend, to meet with one more secluded, 
 both as to body and mind, than Gedney often is to me : — 
 but peace, my heart ! the hand is blest that gives and 
 takes away. 
 
 No. 37. To Elizabeth Storr. 
 
 1814, 7 mo. 5. — The warfare of a good soldier in the 
 Christian cause, under the sacred banners of the Prince of 
 Peace, is directly opposed, in my judgment, to that of the 
 princes and potentates of this world, who, when the most 
 successful, allow but a small pittance of earthly emolument 
 or honour to those who have resigned all in their cause : 
 whereas He who is called the Captain of the Christian's 
 salvation has promised eternal rewards to all those who 
 forego temporal interest or pleasure for his sake, and an 
 immortal crown of life to such as in his cluirch militant 
 continue faithful unto death. And yet how few are will- 
 ing to suffer with and for Him, when coiapared with the 
 
55 
 
 multitudes who, at the signal of an earthly commander, 
 may be led to the destruction of the body, and to a still 
 more awful transition of the soul ! This is a circumstance 
 which often surprises me ; and I can only find its probable 
 cause in the perverseness and folly of the natural man, 
 notwithstanding his self-sufficiency and boasted wisdom. 
 
 No. 38. To Jane Birkbeck. 
 
 1814, 7 '>no. 25. — Allow me the situation (and I ask no 
 higher) of an elder brother, who, weak as he is, would not 
 willingly or wickedly depart from the law of his God ; 
 and that he may not so depart, is desirous of the prayers 
 of his friends, even of such of them as may be much 
 his juniors ; and therefore hopes, when thou art favoured 
 with access to the footstool of mercy, to be remembered 
 there by thee. 
 
 I affectionately bid thee farewell in Christ Jesus, our 
 advocate with the Father, even his Father and our 
 Father, who, though He dwells on high and inhabiteth 
 eternity, condescends to look down from his holy habita- 
 tion, and from the throne of his glory, upon the humble 
 and contrite heart, even upon that — or shall I say, t/ds 
 unworthy heart ? — which, after having experienced 
 largely of his mercies, has yet often to bewail with poig- 
 nant compunction its frailty, its inconsistency, and mani- 
 fold imperfections. 
 
 No. 39. To Joseph Guhney. 
 
 1814, 9 mo. 5. — Wert thou really to ask me how time 
 has passed with me since we saw each other, I might per- 
 
56 
 
 haps be tempted, on the first glance backward, to say, I 
 can scarcely tell ; but to sketch a little, and just as an 
 outline, — some outward stir and some inward vicissitude, 
 wherein, though I might speak with David of the " mul- 
 titude of my thoughts within me," I could but rarely 
 adopt the more consoling part of his sentence, " thy com- 
 forts delight my soul." I mean not, however, as I may 
 have told thee before — -it is never my intention, whatever 
 language may escape me, to complain, at least not to 
 murmur. Justice, gratitude, patience, resignation, these 
 sublime and amiable virtues all conspire to forbid it. 
 Nothing has yet befallen me but what may happen to 
 all — nothing can befall me which I have not deserved. 
 And how short is anything which I have sufi'ered, 
 though guilty, compared with the afflictions of Him 
 who came into the world to " bear our transgressions," 
 and " by whose stripes we are healed ! " All mur- 
 muring is therefore excluded, and may it never more 
 escape my pen or my lips ; but in the room thereof may I be 
 allowed, though from the depths of creaturely abasement, 
 to make my boast of that goodness and mercy which are, 
 I believe, generally the most signally displayed in seasons 
 i)f our greatest extremity. And were I at all inclined to 
 boast now, it might perhaps be in having witnessed, 
 during the time of change and poverty alluded to, the ful- 
 hlment of an ancient declaration, that " the Lord giveth 
 power to the faint, and to them that have no might He 
 increaseth strength : " blessed and praised be his holy 
 name. 
 
 I have lately been strolling on the confines of Norfolk 
 which lie nearest me — say Downham, Lynn, Runcton, 
 Narborough, and Swafi'ham, and to some of these places 
 
twice within a few months. When on my last excursion, 
 very lately, I heard so many pretty things said of Cromer 
 and of the better sort of folks who were assembled there, 
 that, admiring as I do the hollow murmur of the ocean's 
 tide, and still an enthusiast in friendship, I really felt 
 attracted ; but these attractions are now generally re- 
 pelled, by the solemn consideration that I have already 
 lived too long and too much to myself ; that I ought no 
 more, from a motive of mere gratification, to go whither I 
 would. I therefore, on this occasion, gave the nay to an 
 imagination yet, alas ! too prone to wander, and quietly 
 returned to my family and farm, where it seems to be 
 my duty to fix as much as I can. 
 
 No. 40. To Joseph Gdrney. 
 
 1815, 1 mo. 9. — To begin with a matter on which our 
 views appear particularly, I had like to have said remark- 
 ably, correspondent, I may tell thee that, though more 
 than two months have elapsed, I have not forgotten how, 
 a few days before the receipt of thine, my mind had been 
 exercised on account of that mixture, " not in dissipation, 
 but in zeal," to which thou hast alluded, as a thing which 
 makes thee go " more heavily on thy way." This very 
 mixture, even where the objects of it are in themselves not 
 only commendable but good, and which in the present 
 eventful crisis prevails so much, not only in our own but 
 in other countries, I am persuaded with thee, paradoxical 
 as it may appear, and unable as I am to delineate upon 
 paper all my reasons for such a persuasion, forms at 
 once a new and a great danger, to which very many in 
 
 d5 
 
58 
 
 our Society, and these none of the worst, stand just now 
 exposed. 
 
 Thyself having opened the door, perhaps I shall go 
 even heyond thee when I acknowledge what may sound 
 strange to some, that whilst I feel not only good- will 
 but love towards sincere, upright and zealous members 
 of other denominations of Christians, I have not hi- 
 therto found it my place to mix much either in public or 
 private with them, except as they fall in my way ; but 
 whilst tlicv are conoratulating themselves and each other 
 on the general improvement of mankind by the institution 
 of various benevolent establishments for that end — whilst, 
 it may be, some of them derive further consolation, both in 
 the individual part they are taking in these improvements, 
 and also in the accession of number and respectability to 
 their numerous and different sects ; — amidst all this career 
 of prosperity, (and far be it from me either to dispute or to 
 envy it,) yet so it is, that my lot is such a very different 
 one, as to occasion me, more like the sparrow or the pelican, 
 to go mourning on my way, through a land where there 
 seems to be no man near me, or, to use scriptural descrip- 
 tion, " wherein no man dwells." 
 
 I think myself aware that outward solitude, especially 
 when combined with a certain temperament, may produce 
 a physical effect upon the mind. But I also think myself 
 aware that there are far other, and very sufficient causes, 
 for such in our little religions community as are in any 
 degree skilful in lamentation, to dwell alone, keeping 
 much, though not an entire silence ; yea, at times, to lay 
 their mouths as in the dust, if so be there may be hope 
 either for themselves or others. A fear has of late some- 
 times powerfully assailed me, lest amidst the tide of intel- 
 
53 
 
 lectual light, \vlncl> I suppose by many is believed to 
 have burst upon the world — may I say to thee that 
 the admission of such a belief, instead of lessenhig, in- 
 creases my anxiety for a people to whom I am not more 
 by birth than by judgment attached — lest this people, 
 taken as a body, instead of being the illuminated leader, 
 not only of the dark but of the most enlightened parts of 
 the earth, should be either laoging behind, intent on other 
 objects, or, like the foolish virgins in the parable whose 
 lamps were gone out. 
 
 This clue, if followed, might lead us to the alarming 
 and I think not entirely groundless apprehension, that 
 though there may appear no present danger of our be- 
 coming extinct by persecution, yet that we may become 
 much weakened, at least, in a very different way, by the 
 applause and caresses arising out of the too familiar inter- 
 course even with the better part of other religious societies ; 
 among whom, though doubtless acted up to by many valu- 
 able individuals, yet the [^bearing of the^ cross does not 
 seem eitlier to be so preached or so viewed as a crite- 
 rion of Christian character as we have been taught ; and 
 have not some of us a better reason than education for be- 
 lieving it should be ? 
 
 It seems now time for me to turn from this generally 
 discouraging view of a people, dear I believe to each of 
 us, towards one bright spot that I think is discernible in 
 the prospect. Oh, that it may indeed prove like an era 
 of light within our borders, and so increase that our dwell- 
 ings may be in Goshen once more ! I am now alluding to 
 the convincement of their own principles, and practical 
 conversion to their own profession, of here one and there 
 another, on the whole not very few, that have of later time 
 
60 
 
 appeared among us. With these new converts (for such I 
 consider them) my mind is nearly united in sympathy and 
 fellowship, desiring their prosperity and growth in the 
 truth ; and especially desiring, as that on which this pros- 
 I)erity must, I believe, much depend, that they may prove 
 faithful cross-bearing followers of the Lamb slain from the 
 foundation of the world, who when on earth said, " If any 
 man will cotne after me, let him deny himself, and take up 
 his cross daily, and follow me." 
 
 No. 41. To Jane Birkbeck. 
 
 1815, 1 mo. 16. — We are, at least I am, often under 
 such a degree of mental incapacity, as not only disqualifies 
 for speaking or writing to any good purpose, but even 
 for thinking a good thought. So that humiliating as it 
 is to human pride, and for this end perhaps it may be per- 
 mitted, our own wisdom is confounded, and our understand- 
 ing, of wliat class soever it may be, brought to nothing, 
 until by this crucifying, I had almost said annihilating, 
 process, self^ that enemy of our own houses, becomes so 
 weakened as, for a time at least, to be of no reputation : 
 it were difficult indeed to describe how much it requires 
 to bring some minds low, and keep them there. 
 
 I am not afraid of discouraging thee by the picture 
 I have drawn, believing that to such a mind it will appear 
 not very incongruous with a probationary state, and with 
 tlie circumstance of beings, who are not only on one hand 
 prone to evil, but on the other can positively do no good 
 thing without the assistance of Him, who, from the amplest 
 knowledge as well as from the highest authority, made 
 fcuch a declaration, though to a race who, both then 
 
61 
 
 and now, are very unwilling to admit the mortifying 
 truth. 
 
 And yet, I think, if we were to survey with proper 
 attention the annals of mankind, and observe how avarice, 
 ambition, and pleasure have, from the earliest ages to the 
 present day, divided yet engrossed the pursuits of the 
 multitude ; — or if we look into their religion, we may be- 
 hold even in the better parts of it, both in Christianity on 
 its broad scale, and in the small division of it which our 
 Society holds, wonderful fluctuations and vicissitudes ; — or 
 if we turn to what I believe is sometimes called the world 
 in miniature, the human heart, here, instead of the inquirer 
 being satisfied, he finds the greatest of all paradoxical 
 phenomena ; so that in every part of this review it seems 
 as if we might have to encounter a degree of awful mys- 
 tery, which the understanding of man cannot satisfac- 
 torily develope. 
 
 Not many days since, my own labouring heart was re- 
 lieved, when almost sinking under the pressure of business, 
 still higher solicitudes for a motherless family, and, may I 
 hope ? some care for " the churches of Christ," — objects 
 which, when combined, perhaps have at one time or other 
 thrown very different characters into some perplexity ; 
 under anxiety thus produced my mind was calmed by the 
 unexpected presentation of this seasonable memento, " the 
 time of trial is the time for trust ;" which, though it may 
 contain nothing new in substance, yet being brought so 
 opportunely, and in a form of expression too which I did 
 not remember to have seen, caused it to be gratefully ac- 
 cepted as a portion of my daily bread. 
 
 I embrace the present liberty for assuring thee how 
 much interest I feel in thy spiritual welfare. My hopes of 
 
62 
 
 thee are that thou mayst be a valuable pattern to several 
 precious young plants of thy own sex under our name, 
 who are rising up within the immediate sphere of thy ac- 
 quaintance. 
 
 Youth want monitors, but above all they want practical 
 teachers among themselves. They are too prone to think 
 that it is time enough yet to become religious ; or that if 
 this be necessary, yet both the maxims and manners of 
 their seniors are too austere. But when they see here one 
 and there another of their equals in years, and especially 
 if tliese are in possession of every means of self-indulgence, 
 with understandings and education no way inferior to their 
 own ; when such are beheld stepping forw-ard somewhat 
 like those who in the early ages of Christianity turned out 
 of the Roman legions, boldly declaring themselves its 
 converts, though death looked them in the face — such a 
 sight would be likely to arrest the attention even of the 
 thoughtless, with this consideration — surely it must be for 
 a reality that such sacrifices are made ; it cannot be a 
 chimera for which these trials are endured. 
 
 I believe few outward helps would be of so great advan- 
 tage to young Friends of the present day as that of witness- 
 ing among their contemporaries an increase of decided 
 characters — of those who, dying to their own wills, and 
 Avith a holy courage which eclipses that of outward war- 
 fare, taking up their daily cross, avow by the language of 
 conduct, that they are w^eary of the folly of inconsistency 
 with their own profession, that tliey are still more weary 
 of the anguish of a divided heart ; and that therefore, 
 through divine help, they are resolved to quit the service 
 of him who is an enemy to peace, and take that yoke upon 
 them wliich, notwithstanding the mistakes about it, is 
 
63 
 
 ligbt anil easy, wlien compared with the distractions and 
 distresses of disobedience and a wounded conscience. 
 
 No. 42. To Joseph and Jane Gurney. 
 
 1815, 2 7no. 21. — I feel a further encouragement to my 
 present purpose of addressing you, by considering that few 
 words are necessary for the expression of sympathy and 
 condolence, sentiments and feelings which I am solicitous, 
 with a simplicity equal to their sincerity, of imparting 
 to you on the affecting occasion of your dear son Henry's 
 death. 
 
 How mingled have sometimes been my sensations 
 in the recurrence of those solemn, those trying events 
 which thus sever our tenderest ties, congratulating on 
 one hand the liberated spirit on its escape from vanity 
 and care ; and on the other, sorrowing with those who, 
 still fettered by the bonds of mortality, feel their weight 
 increased in proportion as they are bereft of companions, 
 who, either by their strength or enlivening society, less- 
 ened the load of life. Thus are we at seasons, strange as 
 at first sight it may appear, enabled from the same cir- 
 cumstance, and almost at the same instant of time, to 
 weep with those who weep, and to rejoice with those who 
 do rejoice. For with joy unspeakable may we not hope 
 that our dear deceased children are now triumphing in the 
 presence of their Creator, whilst we are left a little longer, 
 to fulfil the measure of our day's work, which, if faithfully 
 performed, death shall again rejoin us (at least so nature 
 loves innocently to believe) to such of our kindred aiid 
 friends as have already been admitted within the pale of 
 
64 
 
 adorable mercy, and received into the embraces of un- 
 utterable love. 
 
 Genuine sorrow seeks the shade as its natural and proper 
 home, but an officious world, which the more attentively 
 we observe it the more we shall be convinced of its mis- 
 takes, drags its votaries from the retirement to which 
 providential circumstances and their best feelings have 
 directed them, into the meridian glare of folly and dissi- 
 pation, as a remedy for those very things which are the 
 best calculated, and no doubt wisely intended, so to arrest 
 the levity and correct the disorder of our hearts, as to in- 
 cline tliem to listen to the still small voice of wisdom, and 
 submit to her salutary discipline. 
 
 Thus, however, I intend not to treat the better-instructed 
 minds of my much-valued friends ; but even under their 
 present trial to address them with the language of truth and 
 soberness, clothed too, perhaps, in somewhat sad array. 
 Yes : I am inclined to tell them that, as is often my por- 
 tion, I have been of late much the son of inward aflfliction; 
 tiie causes whereof seem too complicated for me clearly to 
 discover ; but as I do not discern disobedience among these 
 causes, I desire not to be too inquisitive ; perhaps a sympa- 
 thetic feeling with the various kinds and degrees of suffering 
 humanity may be of the number. But as words are not 
 just now much at my command, perhaps I cannot give you 
 a better general idea of my situation than by simply men- 
 tioning the kind of reading which has for some time past 
 afforded me the most satisfaction : in the Scriptures, such 
 parts as contain promises to the penitent, the poor, the 
 blind, and above all, to those who through many beset- 
 ments, tribulations, and infirmities, have endured to the 
 end. Of other writings, some of the valuable letters of 
 
65 
 
 such of my friends whose kindness now and then inclines 
 them to salute a poor, absent brother, have been reperused, 
 I trust, with something more than mere gratification : the 
 short and promiscuous annals of old and young, male and 
 female, rich and poor, exhibited in the volumes of Piety 
 Promoted, have also afforded an instructive satisfaction. 
 
 Perhaps, under a depression which I am thus attempt- 
 ing in a very indirect way to describe, few things could 
 have been more likely to prevent a total extinction of hope 
 than the discovery of this real change in my literary taste. 
 For there has been a time when, through fulness, ignorance, 
 and unbelief, such food as that just alluded to would have 
 been very lightly esteemed, or possibly, for want of under- 
 standing its precious hidden qualities, loathed and des- 
 pised. But thanks be to God, who, by the various dispen- 
 sations of spiritual hunger and thirst, of weariness and 
 painfulness, both in body and mind, hath at length made 
 those important truths which once would have been very 
 unpalatable, if not bitter, to become sweeter than honey 
 or the honeycomb ; yea, to become like strength to my 
 sinews, and as marrow to my bones. Oh ! for a suitable 
 return ! 
 
 No. 43. To Susanna Clark. 
 
 1815, 9 mo. 5. — I trust the time may have arrived 
 when the voice of disinterested and dispassionate sym- 
 pathy may be no unwelcome sound ; nor may this lan- 
 guage be less welcome when heard from one, who once 
 hard of heart, yet taught at length by his own suf- 
 ferings, apprehends himself thereby qualified to par- 
 ticipate at seasons in others' woes. That such cha- 
 
66 
 
 racters ^alluding to the death of her hushand] should he 
 snatched from us just at the time when, from their ex- 
 perience, maturity of judgment, and other ample means, 
 they seem as it were in the zenith of their usefulness, 
 certainly appears to our finite and limited understandings 
 not less mysterious than aAvful. Yet to our faith it is at 
 times evident that He who hath his way in the whirl- 
 wind and in the storm, whose path is in the great waters, 
 and whose footsteps are not known, — and to my faith 
 it has heen this day renewedly given to believe, and a 
 desire raised to encourage thee, my valued friend, under 
 thy present triiil to believe also, that this Almighty, this 
 incomprehensible Being doeth all things well ; and that 
 even his most inscrutable and obscure dispensations shall 
 ultimately work together for good to those who love Him. 
 What then have those who desire above all things to love 
 and fear their Creator to do, but patiently to wait for the 
 knowledge of his will, implicitly obeying it when clearly 
 manifested to them ; and not only so, but even by sub- 
 missive resignation endeavouring to follow Him, when He 
 is pleased to introduce them into a hidden, gloomy, and 
 cheerless path ? Yea, though He may bring the blind by 
 a way that they know not, and lead them in paths that 
 they have not known, still let them follow Him, confiding 
 in his gracious promise, that even here He will not leave 
 them nor forsake them. My own rebellious heart and 
 inflexible will bear me witness, that it has been through 
 many a conflict that my advancement so far as I have 
 already attained, be this vvhat it may, has been effected ; 
 yet having received mercy, and having also been hitherto 
 helped with a little help in times of difficulty and distress, 
 I faint not, but trust I am feebly pressing forward towards 
 
67 
 
 that mark of perfect dedication and obedience from which 
 I often seem to myself to be at an awfully discouraging 
 distance ; yet at other seasons, animated by the renewing 
 of faith and hope, I am concerned to invite others, and 
 especially my fellow-professors, to accompany me in this 
 tribulated but holy and glorious path. And whilst I feel 
 myself as in bonds, both spiritual and temporal, I some- 
 times earnestly crave that these, in the Lord's time, may 
 be so far broken as that I may become more qualified than 
 has yet been the case to be a minister of consolation to my 
 dear friends. 
 
 No. 44. To Joseph Gubney. 
 
 1815, 9 mo. 26. — I lament with thee over the poor 
 sailors and their still more miserable pillagers, who seem 
 to occupy one of the lowest situations on the scale of 
 human depravity : still let us pity them ; I ' hink I some- 
 times do sincerely. 
 
 That the men-of-war collected at Plymouth afforded a 
 grand and striking spectacle I have no doubt ; and it is 
 very probable that, as stupendous and rare objects, I might 
 also have admired them, though of their symmetry or the 
 want of it, I am but a poor judge, as they do not sail 
 here, neither have they much attracted my observation 
 when I might have made some. Of their employment, 
 however, I can speak with more decision, and say that 
 I detest it. As a system I think the gigantic wickedness 
 of war can only be equalled by its monstrous absurdity, 
 and that it is no less obnoxious to philosophy than to 
 
68 
 
 religion. In making up my mind on this deeply-affecting, 
 and from its magnitude, interesting subject, I have en- 
 deavoured, as perhaps is the best way in such cases, to 
 place it in the strongest light. I never find it more clearly 
 reflected than by a comparison with what the apostle has 
 aptly defined to be " the fruits of the flesh" and " of the 
 spirit." When thus tried, it appears in my view to possess, 
 or to have in its train, all the former, and few, if any, of 
 the latter qualities. And if this be true, however cautious 
 we ought to be, in consideration of what and where we all 
 are, of applying harsh language to individuals, yet as a 
 practice common among men, have I said, or can anything 
 be said too severe of that which, instead of peace and 
 good-will, breathes destruction and misery in every possi- 
 ble, every aggravated form, to the human race ? Yes, of 
 warriors, may it not be said, in the emphatic language of 
 Scripture, " Their feet are swift to shed blood : destruction 
 and misery are in their ways, and the way of peace have 
 they not known." And though I would not apply indis- 
 criminately to the soldier the language of the succeeding 
 verse, " There is no fear of God before their eyes," yet I 
 do most unequivocally believe, that so far as a man even of 
 amiable and virtuous dispositions (and such I grant there 
 may be) is connected with war, so far it is a drawback 
 upon his Christian character. 
 
 Of those stately buildings, too, which thou hast mentioned 
 as having been admired by our late dear friend, perhaps 
 we each of us think somewhat alike ; but like the ships 
 just spoken of, they are connected with a trade which, 
 though less abhorrent to our feelings, we cannot approve. 
 Yet here again let us discriminate between persons and 
 
69 
 
 things. I have no doubt that there are many valuable 
 characters in the Established Church ; and though I fear 
 many of her ministers are, to say the least, mercenary 
 men, yet towards others I have to my comfort thought 
 myself qualified at times to apply this language : " When 
 I meet a man of a pure mind, my own is at rest." After 
 all these allowances, with the unjust and oppressive trafiic 
 of priesthood or priestcraft, take which we like best for a 
 text, I have long been disgusted ; and like Cowper have 
 been ready at times to laugh or mourn at the rueful jest. 
 For really when at this moment I take a dispassionate, 
 and I think unprejudiced, view of the worst kind of 
 priests of all ages and under every name, where such ap- 
 pointments are or have been made, I find less charity 
 towards them, possessing so many advantages, than for the 
 poor outcasts of society whom I have just told thee I 
 pity : — numbers of whom, I apprehend, friendless, help- 
 less, and ignorant, have been thus led, like the captive 
 victim, to their own ruin ; though others doubtless have 
 volunteered on the dreadful path. But for the hypocritical 
 and still more daring sinner, who, under pretence of reli- 
 gion and protected by law, with haughty step and super- 
 cilious brow, practises wickedness and deceit — with this 
 character my very soul is at variance ; and I have a heavy 
 charge against it for contributing more tlian most other 
 things to my youthful scepticism, as I believe it has also 
 done in all times and places whatever it has appeared, to 
 that of infidelity in general. 
 
 Thou wilt probably think me very cynical, but having 
 thyself proposed the different subjects, thou must have 
 patience if possible to hear me on one more, as, after deal- 
 
70 
 
 ing about nie so freely on others, it seems but fair to look 
 at home, and take some notice of thy " seven women to 
 one man," in our own little community. This circumstance 
 is certainly cause of depression, though not I think for 
 dismay. I recollect a time when, on viewing our ministry, 
 where also a degree of the same disproportion prevails, 
 I felt myself rather stimulated than disheartened by this 
 part of the prospect. I really felt a glow of honest shame 
 that those whom we sometimes call weak, subordinate, &c. 
 should leave all that is dear to them, as many of them do, 
 to encounter most kinds of hardship and peril, whilst the 
 lords of creation were some at the counter, some at the 
 desk, and it may be a few on their farms ; all pursuing 
 pleasure or gain. Need it surprise thee, if when thus ex- 
 cited, I should have felt something of a desire to be made 
 worthy to accompany these female pilgrims, not only 
 in their peregrinations but trials, which I cannot help 
 thinking must to their sensible minds often be very 
 great ? Consistently therefore with these sentiments, when 
 the feet of my sisters are directed this way, I sometimes 
 proffer myself as their guide through the long stages of 
 Lincolnshire. 
 
 Just at parting, shouldst thou wdsh to know how it 
 fares with me spiritually, I may tell thee that my secret 
 exercises have of late been sometimes attended and my 
 heart softened, by the mingled emotions of grief and of gra- 
 titude. Of grief that naturally, as the offspring of Adam, 
 I am what I am ; — and of gratitude that the Lord is not 
 only long-suffering and merciful, but graciously disposed, 
 by the aid of his Spirit, to ameliorate and improve this 
 fallen and degenerate nature, I am aware that many are 
 
71 
 
 of opinion, that thus to proclaim, as perliaps they might 
 call it, our own humility, is near of kin to pride, or done 
 to court the praise of being or rather seeming humble. But 
 I have thought it possible to refine too much on this 
 point, and that some worthy characters whom I have 
 known and loved have done so. For to me it seems 
 allowable to say or write anything that may tend to pro- 
 duce real abasement in ourselves or others, or to magnify 
 and exalt the Divine character and its attributes, which 
 perhaps never appear more dignified and luminous than 
 when placed in contrast with our own limited powers, and 
 with those imperfections which from the fall, I suppose, 
 have been derived to our bodies and our minds. 
 
 Wherefore, my valued friend, without being too casuis- 
 tical, let us not be afraid, even by the communication of 
 our own experiences, of exhorting and encouraging each 
 other to that abhorrence of self which a sight of the 
 Divine perfections excited in one formerly.* Let us also 
 encourage each other to the praise of that Almighty 
 Power which, from our youth up, has done and prevented, 
 and is daily doing and preventing, much for us. If it were 
 not so, where should we have long since been, or where 
 should we yet soon be, both as to spiritual and temporal 
 things ; and for all these mercies, ancient and new, should 
 not all within us unite and say. Alleluia ? 
 
 No. 45. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1816, 2 mo. 26. — Ah ! what is mortality ? and what are 
 the talents, natural or acquired, by which it is taught ? In 
 
 • Job, xlii. 6. 
 
72 
 
 the view which I at present have of them they resemble 
 the small cordage which may indeed be sufficient for us in 
 a calm, but will be found very inadequate in the storm. 
 While our sun is in its zenith, or wafted by gentle and 
 ambrosial gales, like swans upon the tide, we sail securely 
 and complacently along : — but a small force may be 
 necessary to conduct or restrain us. But when midnight 
 darkness prevails, when neither moon nor stars appear, 
 when a tempest lies heavy on us, and the winds blow from 
 all quarters — then tossed as between Scylla and Charybdis 
 —which, like those I would figure by them, are not 
 fabulous dangers, — at such a season as this we have need 
 of our pilot, our cables, our anchors. Those who sail 
 near the shore or in shallow streams may require but a 
 slender equipment, but the circumnavigator must be well 
 found. 
 
 Far be it from me to envy those whose privilege it may 
 be to walk in a comparatively smooth way, with safety 
 and acceptance in the Divine sight. If their state be that 
 of acceptance, I would not interrupt its tranquillity or 
 disturb its repose, though it know nothing of hanging its 
 harp upon the willow, or should enjoy a perpetual capacity 
 to sing Psalms. How far this may be the state of any, or 
 what may be their number, it is not for me to say, but 
 I am strongly impressed with a belief, that in all ages, 
 of course our own not excepted, a remnant, and perhaps 
 not a very small one, have had a widely different allot- 
 ment — have had to pass as through the fire, and therein to 
 be " refined as silver is refined, and tried as gold is tried." 
 Whilst under these occasionally renewed operations, they 
 have found it hard work getting along — their faith and 
 hope and patience all ready to fail them. Insomuch that 
 
73 
 
 like certain pious, Scriptural characters, when thus closely 
 tried, they have petitioned that, if consistent with the Divine 
 will, their life might be taken from the earth, seeing they 
 were no better than their fathers. And I have thought 
 that there may be one very reconciling apology for the 
 desire of death produced by such a pressure of exercise or 
 of affliction, if kept within the limits of humble resignation, 
 that if we could no more promote the sacred cause, we 
 should no longer be in danger of dishonouring it. 
 
 I noticed what thou sayst of thy discourse with S. A. 
 on the subject of war. I am one with thee in thinking that 
 our judgments often arise out of the improper indulgence 
 of our passions : remove the cause, and we prevent the 
 suffering — let the drunkard be sober, and he shall have 
 less headache. If our duty and our happiness are materially 
 connected, why shoidd not misery to a considerable extent 
 follow the breach of it ? But I am afraid of entering at 
 any length into a discussion of war: it is a subject on 
 which I am so apt to forget my own weakness, and to be so 
 carried away by the powerful stimulus of tlie moment, tiiat 
 I find it too difficult for me to express myself with suffici- 
 ent acquiescence and regard to the mysterious conduct of 
 Providence, who doubtless permits such, — and such are 
 the bulk of mankind, — as reject that government which I 
 should call an individual theocracy, and in my view the 
 best of all governments — :tliese He doubtless permits to 
 punish themselves and each other with the sword. 
 
 Considering war in the abstract, I find it equally re- 
 pugnant to my understanding as a man, and to my feelings 
 as a Christian ; and this is so much the case, that were I, 
 what I never shall be, or what, constituted as in many 
 respects I am, it is not proper I should be, an orator and a 
 
 £ 
 
74 
 
 senator, were I seated on this eminence, a war minister 
 might probably receive more opposition, at least more de- 
 clamation from me on this subject, than has been heard in 
 all the parliaments of all countries. For however unequal 
 to the task, I have a notion that this dreadful practice is 
 capable of being placed in a view more disgusting and de- 
 grading to human nature, and more disparaging to nature's 
 God, than to my knowledge has ever yet been attempted 
 in our chief national assemblies. I think it might be made 
 to appear to stand in direct opposition to all the amiable 
 and excellent dispositions which the apostle has called 
 " the fruits of the Spirit," whilst it might be as satisfac- 
 torily proved to be the legitimate and natural offspring of 
 those evil ones which he has denominated " the fruits of 
 the flesh;" bitter and unwholesome fruits, engendered in 
 the worst parts of our being, and matured by the grand 
 adversary of mankind — by that malignant spirit who has 
 been its betrayer and murderer from the beginning. 
 
 No. 46. To Joseph Gurnet. 
 
 1816, 7 mo. 5. — As my recent turn into Norfolk was 
 alternately interesting, impressive, and sweet, so the re- 
 membrance of it is satisfactory ; and I have been made 
 thankful that in revisiting my low situation, and in some 
 respects lonely home, I have found it a quiet habitation. 
 This has led me afresh to admire the divine condescension 
 and goodness, not only in forgiving, for his ovra name's 
 sake, his dear Son's sake, and our poor soul's sake, the 
 sins of wilful disobedience, but in passing by those lesser 
 omissions and commissions which through weakness and 
 infirmity, were He not a more merciful than severe judge, 
 
75 
 
 might, even after our conversion and whilst endeavourinor in 
 general to serve and to please Him, be justly charged upon 
 us. Yes : I am not only willing to believe, but am fully 
 persuaded, that amidst all the helps and the favours of the 
 time I passed in Norfolk, and some of these were no common 
 ones, every day of mine might have been thus marked. 
 And yet whilst our poor frail nature is ready to tremble 
 under such impressions as these, to feel at the same time no 
 condemnation, what an unspeakable and unmerited favour ! 
 Of the love then wherewith we are loved by our Creator, 
 and the manner in which our feeblest endeavours, if 
 sincere, are accepted of Him, may it not indeed be said, — 
 
 " O the height and depth surprising ! 
 O the length and breadth how great ! 
 Generations past and rising 
 Shall the bliss participate." 
 
 For thy dear suffering daughter, and my beloved friends, 
 her tender and affectionate parents, I have found that a 
 consoling sense, which while with them prevailed much 
 with me, did not until about to part and since leaving thtm 
 receive the addition of so acute a sympathy as might have 
 been expected. She appeared to me to be endeavouring, 
 and with considerable success, after an acquiescence in her 
 lot of trial. Is not this the very essence of prayer and of 
 praise ? and have we not cause to believe that any one 
 whom Infinite Wisdom has laid upon the couch or the pil- 
 low of declining health, though a child in other respects, 
 may, by this resignation, be as sufficiently supported and 
 as sweetly comforted as those who, entrusted with dif- 
 ferent powers, are by the same unerring authority sent 
 across the rolling billows, to meet the face of opposing 
 tumult in distant lands with a message of peace ? 
 
 E 2 
 
76 
 
 We have been very busy since our return. Last second- 
 day was the finishing of our sheep-shearing, at which 
 about noon we gave a simple treat to all poor children who 
 come and bring a spoon with them. It consists of wheat- 
 frumenty, with sweets, raisins, &c., to make it palatable. 
 They eat it standing on the green near the kitchen-door, 
 upon temporary tables of boards, and some of the little 
 ones recline with their mothers on the grass. It is rather 
 difi&cult to number them exactly ; but I believe there were 
 not less than one hundred and fifty thus engaged at one 
 time, besides stragglers. This custom is I believe rather 
 ancient, and I can remember its being pretty general here : 
 it is now nearly obsolete ; but the sight is so interesting, 
 and a good meal, with much pleasure to the receivers, is 
 bestowed at so moderate an expense, that I cannot give 
 up my own share of gratification in the business. 
 
 No. 47. To Joseph and Jane Gurney. 
 
 1816, 9 mo. 21. — Did I not more frequently think of 
 you than tell you so, I should expect the reproach of my 
 own heart : by it, however, I am not at present on this 
 ground accused. It is sometimes a matter of regret with 
 me that my thoughts are not more frequently such as 
 I could communicate with a greater prospect of reciprocal 
 satisfaction, but I cannot command a good thought, much 
 less breathe a prayer when I would. When I can do either, 
 there are few indeed of my dear friends on whose behalf I 
 should be more ready to prefer them at the footstool of 
 that mercy to which we are all debtors ; and when 
 
77 
 
 we are permitted to approach which, I believe we do well 
 to remember others as well as ourselves. 
 
 But from the opportune and acceptable appearance of a 
 letter from one of j'ou the last evening, I do not know that 
 I could have made any addition to this brief effusion, ex- 
 cept I had said, how pleasant the thought was to me that 
 our last letters, as has sometimes happened before, crossed 
 upon the road, a circumstance that reminds one of, and 
 even bespeaks, a willingness to shake hands. 
 
 I was also indebted to that letter for sending me to my 
 Bible. By it I was corrected of a little misconception, 
 which did not however materially affect my subject of 
 seeking gold, as I did not mean an attack upon the 
 immediate or improper search of that dazzling toy only, 
 but upon any other of our castle-building schemes of 
 earthly happiness, of which you know there are many. 
 In turning over the journal of our departed friend 
 S. G., I not only found instruction pleasingly conveyed, 
 but satisfaction in its more substantial form. Perusing the 
 extracts from her letters, in particular, one observation for- 
 cibly struck me, how much her hopes and fears resembled 
 ours, confirmingr me in a sentiment which I think George 
 Dil^vyn has thus expressed : " Hope and fear are essentials 
 in religion." I am more inclined to mention tliis, because 
 if I mistake not, my friend J. G. has been sometimes more 
 alarmed for my timidity than I have been for his courage. 
 I fancy we should blend them ; but how di£&cult it is, at 
 least for the coward, to make them nicely incorporate ! 
 Perhaps this difiBculty is never greater with me than in 
 religious movements, or when looking towards my dear 
 motherless children. 
 
 I was glad of and her companion's visit at 
 
78 
 
 Gedney ; it seemed like opening a little spring of refresh- 
 ment in a weary, if not a desert, land : and is not this one 
 of the efiects which, under gracious appointment, our visits 
 are sometimes permitted to produce ? whatever might be 
 my claim, I gladly accepted the boon. 
 
 The account of your domestic situation was interesting 
 
 to me. I cannot wonder that having had dear at home 
 
 this summer should have increased reciprocal attachment, 
 and have made the prospect of another separation painful : 
 it seems comfortable, however, that there is so much light 
 upon it, as may enable you to move in hope, leaving the 
 event to Him who not only beholds our actions, but re- 
 gards their motives, and whose blessing alone can prosper 
 anything we design or attempt. I do not express myself 
 thus lightly, or as in words of course, but as a lesson 
 which it has cost me something to learn, and to which I 
 have often great need to recur. 
 
 No. 48. To Joseph Gurney, 
 
 1816, 10 mo. 9. — Although I have read and may have 
 reasoned on the limited nature of human powers, I per- 
 haps was never more practically convinced both of their 
 imbecility and contracted scope, than by the present cala- 
 mitous harvest weather. That we can neither command a 
 ray of sunshine, nor stay the bottles of heaven, is a truth 
 which I desire may be as profitably impressed upon many 
 minds, as I hope it is indelibly on my own. Be not sur- 
 prised and say, I might have known this long before. 
 Alas ! we are poor creatures, learn slowly, and often 
 want even our former knowledge renewing. 
 
79 
 
 No. 49. To JosEi'H AND Jane Gurney. 
 
 1816, \2 mo. 21. — Being this morning enabled more 
 than at some other times (for such things are not at my 
 command) to pay a visit of tender sympathy to your 
 stripped habitation, and under this feeling renewedly not 
 only to crave but to hope that He vpho had graciously been 
 with you in former trials would not leave nor forsake you 
 either in tlie present or future, — these thoughts I am 
 willing to communicate, from the sweet satisfaction it would 
 afford me to be the medium of conveying to you, if it were 
 but as a grain of that comfort wherewith (adored be his 
 mercy) I myself have in seasons of deep affliction been 
 " comforted of God." This you know was the wish and 
 the endeavour of an apostle formerly, for those who were 
 in any trouble. I trust it is allowable for Christians of the 
 present day, and so far as I may be allowed to appreciate 
 my own feelings, it is at the present juncture, to you- 
 wards, affectionately and sincerely mine. 
 
 Perhaps there are few things that have not their degrees : 
 that this is the case in affliction I am convinced both by 
 the observation of others and my own : it has its pro- 
 gressive stages, and perhaps each stage distinguished by a 
 peculiar characteristic. To you I need not enumerate, and 
 indeed my intention is nearly to confine myself to one, and 
 one too which, from the resignation whereby it is marked, 
 has been called, by a writer of great sensibility, in one 
 of his most pathetic compositions, " the sabbath of the 
 mind." Yet as tlie natural life cannot be supported by 
 rest alone, but requires a renewal of food, so wliilst in this 
 probationary state it seeme also to be with the mind ; and 
 
80 
 
 however peaceful the sabbath alluded to may be, yet with- 
 out occasional renewals of strength, a kind of vacuum and 
 debility will probably be induced, injurious, if not de- 
 structive, to those energies of the spiritual life, which, both 
 on account of ourselves and others, it seems to be equally 
 our duty and our interest to endeavour to preserve : and 
 wherein under circumstances of pressure, somewhat like 
 the poor animal in a receiver from which the air is ex- 
 hausted, do our efficacious endeavours consist ? I believe 
 in application to the Fountain of life and power, that He 
 will be pleased from time to time to infuse into our souls 
 such portions of his own divine breath as may in every 
 stage of sorrow and suffering, through which He may see 
 meet to conduct them, preserve their health and vigour, to 
 the promotion of his own glory, their solid comfort, and 
 the encouragement of others in an acquiescence with every 
 providential dispensation. 
 
 No. 50. To J. AND C. Foster and E. Storr. 
 
 1816, 12 mo. 28. — Not only my heart but my eyes were 
 ready to overflow on the return of such an inclination to write 
 to you, as I am both unwilling and afraid to suppress. I 
 express myself thus because it seems an inclination not 
 merely resulting from that affection, which I trust neither 
 silence nor absence will ever diminish, but as including in 
 its comprehensive embrace all the interest and solicitude 
 which I am capable of feeling for everything appertaining 
 to you, that a friendship natural or religious can be called 
 upon to feel for: — a sense which, when granted me as the 
 moving principle of an address either vocal or written to 
 
81 
 
 any of my dear friends, I am very thankful for, because 
 when I can tell them this, though I should tell them no 
 more, it may afford them a little satisfaction, perhaps some 
 encouragement. 
 
 Since I saw you, and since we exchanged a letter, 
 I have heard, through different channels, of circumstances 
 which I conclude must have nearly affected you. I trust 
 the best support has been vouchsafed adequate to these 
 trials ; and that however great, you have not thought them 
 peculiar, as though some new or strange thing had hap- 
 pened to you, seeing that such are the tribulations also of 
 your brethren and sisters who are in the world. For 
 although probation may vary in its shape or kind, yet 
 I believe, did we know all things, we should clearly see 
 that in degree it is much more equally dispensed than 
 when looking only at our own lot we are apt to suppose ; 
 but when we consider that some afflictions are obvious, 
 others secret, and that those who are exercised by tliem 
 are of very different experience and strength, we may easily 
 conceive the incompetence of our limited faculties for 
 judging in a case so difficult ; but that it requires omni- 
 science itself to appreciate our different states, and omni- 
 potence to apportion to each of them its due degree of 
 either suffering or joy. 
 
 That some, perhaps many, though their number is im- 
 possible and unnecessary for us to ascertain, are tried as to 
 a hair's breadth ; or in other words, to tlie extent of their 
 capacity for bearing, is a thing which I, probably you also, 
 have much reason to believe. In the course of our pil- 
 'runafje, have we not at seasons been brought into situa- 
 tions comparable to that outward tempest to which an 
 ipostle (the vicissitudes of wliose life might not be unaptly 
 
 E 5 
 
82 
 
 compared to a voyage) was in his days exposed ? — a storm 
 scarcely exceeded by any account upon record, wherein not 
 only the lights of heaven were for many days and nights 
 withheld, but articles of the greatest importance and value 
 were cast overboard for the sake of lightening the ship, 
 which was then suffered to drive before the wind, and yet, 
 though the vessel was ultimately destroyed, not a single 
 life was lost. 
 
 Ah ! my beloved friends, how striking the resemblance 
 between the circumstance just alluded to, and that of those 
 who, sorely driven by the wintry blasts of adversity, find 
 that all their former experiences and the efforts of their un- 
 derstanding, which on many occasions heretofore have served 
 them well, are now no longer of any avail ; and that the 
 only way to save themselves from distraction or despair, 
 seems to be to cease frcmi their own exertions, and cast their 
 most valued attainments as into the sea of conflict, commit- 
 ting and commending the poor frail bark of nature, with all its 
 appendages, natural or acquired, to the winds and the waves, 
 or rather to that God who rules them ? And as this has 
 been found to be the last resort of the distressed mariner, 
 when tossed with a tempest, and not comforted, so it has 
 proved his wisest course ; for though it may not have 
 brought him immediately to his desired haven of eternal 
 rest and peace, he has perhajjs ere long found anchorage- 
 ground on which to rest awhile and recruit his nearly ex- 
 liausted powers. And after having taken refreshment and 
 repose under the sheltering wing of Him whom the winds 
 and the ocean obey, gratefully impressed also by a sense of 
 his marvellous deliverance, he perhaps finds himself not 
 only more disposed, but by the loss of some things he had 
 parted with in the storm, more disencumbered, and at 
 
83 
 
 more entire liberty to prosecute the remainder of his spiri- 
 tual course through life, than had ever been the case 
 previous to those sore tribulations and exercises. 
 
 No. 51. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1817, 3 mo. 17. — With a heart like a common one, 
 " deceitful above all things," and which, before its ac- 
 quaintance with the Redeemer, sank into the most 
 humiliating degradation, and would yet, as I have cause to 
 beheve, if deprived of bis preventive and supporting grace, 
 again be liable to sink, as naturally as a weight let fall 
 tends to its centre, into a state which might not only astonish 
 and confound, but ruin me ; — under such a circumstance, 
 what need do I daily feel, not of fine notions and fair 
 speeches, but of a Saviour who is both able and willing to 
 save, and that to the very uttermost ! And this I believe is 
 not peculiar to me, but is the lot of all the sons and 
 daughters of Adam. And as nothing in the most trying 
 parts of thy experience can probably exceed this, so can 
 anything be more likely, than the belief that we have each 
 tasted and handled something of it, to excite those earnest 
 desires or prayers for each other's preservation, which, as 
 thou hast justly observed, are among the number of 
 Cliristian privileges and consolations ? 
 
 Well : — be of good cheer, for I believe the Master hath 
 called and is calling thee ! and whatever difficulties tliou 
 niayst meet with in endeavouring to obey his call, yet as 
 thou art concerned to follow Him in simplicity, and as en- 
 tire dedication is thy only aim — as thus thou perseverest, 
 thou shalt ultimately witness that overcoming to which, 
 
«4 
 
 especially in the very interesting book of the apostle John's 
 Revelations, so many precious promises are annexed. Hav- 
 ing adverted to this part of Scripture, I may tell thee how 
 sweet the character of the Philadelphian angel appears to 
 me, so that though more than half-desponding I am ready 
 to cry : O ! that I might obtain such a testimony at that 
 awful tribunal, where every man shall be judged according 
 to his works! However, let vis not cease to aspire after 
 this testimony, contenting ourselves at the same time with 
 the lowest hopes of reward ; to be just admitted into the 
 bride-chamber before the door is shut. O ! what an un- 
 speakable, what an immerited mercy will this be to some 
 poor souls ! 
 
 25//«. — In differences of religious sentiment, perhaps few 
 are more disposed, encompassed as I am with human in- 
 firmities, to make allowance for them. The right of 
 private judgment too, abused as we are for refusing it, 
 perhaps few more freely admit ; because it seems to me to 
 be inseparable from that free agency with which our 
 Creator has seen meet to entrust us. But whilst I fully and 
 unequivocally recognize this unalienable right, I am com- 
 pelled to believe that it is often, very often, made subser- 
 vient to the purposes of passion, prejudice, and vanity ; 
 or languishes imder an indolence and an ignorance which 
 ought to be, and which might be, by means within the 
 reach of most, better informed. I therefore feel solicitous, 
 for few things more so, that in the exercise of this most 
 valuable of all spiritual and temporal privileges, our in- 
 quiries on serious subjects may always be proportioned to 
 the importance of the decision. 
 
 Wilt thou, to use thy own words, excuse my thus 
 running on, making allowance too for all the imperfections 
 
8.T 
 
 which I assure thee arise from more than one kind of 
 weakness. For to myself I very often, and even now, seem 
 like the ruins of a man. And yet, amidst the decay of 
 bodily and relaxation of mental strength, hope, sweet hope 
 in an intercessor with the Father continues at times to 
 cheer me. O ! how thankful have I been for a ray of it 
 tliis very day ! 
 
 No. 52. To Joseph Gukney. 
 
 I8I7, 5 mo. 25. — The sittings of the Yearly Meeting 
 have been solemn and weighty, friends appearing gene- 
 rally preserved in a quiet, harmonious, and condescending 
 disposition, which I much desire may be continued to us, 
 as these are qualities which seem to me to be so very con- 
 sistent with our profession, and I hope are becoming more 
 and more acknowledged to be such, both in precept and 
 practice, when we are thus assembled for the professed 
 purpose of promoting vital Christianity, which, to epito- 
 mize, we may perhaps call " peace on eartli and good- 
 will to men." 
 
 The meetings for worship which I have attended seem 
 to me to have been seasons of Divine condescension and 
 favour, the silent part of them impressive, and some of the 
 communications of a highly instructive and awakening, 
 though consolatory, character. I am always glad when 
 these happen to be so united in the testimonies of our 
 friends, that those who are furthest off may be invited to 
 draw near, and even the most rebellious encouraoed to 
 believe, that on repentance and amendment of life, through 
 the merits of a glorious and holy Redeemer, their sins 
 shall be forgiven them, This I believe thou knowest is 
 the main stay of thy poor friend, whose hand is ready to 
 
86 
 
 tremble whenever he touches the awful theme ; he feels 
 perplexed, but not in despair. 
 
 31st. — Six days have elapsed, in which I have not been 
 able to find an hour in which, without intruding on those 
 devoted to occasions that left me no choice or rest, I could 
 resume the interesting employment of thus communing 
 with thee. The Yearly Meeting of women friends con- 
 cluded with one sitting yesterday, ours with two, and each 
 I believe with much satisfaction, which to me suffered no 
 drawback from the meeting of ministers and elders this 
 morning, which I tliought partook of that precious evi- 
 dence of Divine regard that has attended many, if not 
 most, of the sittings, both of the general and select meetings, 
 uniting friends together in the best bonds, and causing 
 them, I doubt not, at seasons, to remember with affection, 
 sympatliy, and fervent desire, their absent bretliren : feel- 
 ings and sentiments under which I have wished, and I 
 think not wisliedin vain, to pay a mental visit to my dear 
 friends at Nice,* whose claims are, and long have been, so 
 strong upon anything I may have to spare, whether of a 
 religious or social nature. 
 
 * * * Resignation, as we sometimes find it infused into 
 the mind, sweetens our bitterest cups. This brings to my 
 recollection a season wherein time, place, and circumstance 
 being all against me, I was in great danger of murmuring, 
 when suddenly my thoughts were calmed by the following- 
 simple lines being formed within me, I cannot tell how : — 
 
 No matter where, if Thou art there, 
 
 Supporting by thy grace ; 
 Thy will be done, through Christ thy Son, 
 
 In every time and place. 
 
 * His friends were then resident there for the benefit of the 
 health of a beloved child. 
 
«7 
 
 No. 53. To J. J. AND Jane Gurney. 
 
 181 7, 9 mo. 29. — How great is the mystery of godli- 
 ness ! This is an exclamation that has probahly escaped 
 the lips of thousands before our day, and may with equal 
 probability burst the bonds of astonished silence when we 
 are gone. Great, superlatively great, indeed, is this mys- 
 tery ! — and, as I have thought, in few things more re- 
 markable than in its raising up as from the stones of the 
 street, the dead in trespasses and sins ; and making of 
 these, even of these, children unto Abraham, who in their 
 day and time shall be instrumental in gathering other 
 children unto Him ; and these, again, becoming in their 
 turn like foster-parents, or delegated shepherds, under the 
 one universal Head, to generations yet unborn, until tlie 
 grand design of Omnipotence, in placing us where and 
 what we are, shall be completed. 
 
 Can we too much admire this glance into the mystery, 
 if, as I think, such an one it is ; or admitting that such it 
 may be, can we too much adore its Author ? — a very 
 small part of whose wimdrous works, either in nature or 
 in grace, are. as 1 apprehend, unveiled to us, or perliaps 
 could be borne by us, whilst probationers here below : an 
 idea which I think is beautifully illustrated, if not con- 
 firmed, by the following stanza of Beattie ; 
 " One part, one little part, we dimly scan 
 
 Through the dark meduiin of life's feverish dream — 
 
 Yet dare arraign the whole stupendous plan, 
 
 If but tliat little part incongruous seem ; 
 
 Nor is tiiat part, perhaps, what mortals deem : 
 
 Oft from apparent ills our blessings rise. 
 
 O, then, renounce that impious self-esteem, 
 
 That aims to trace the secret of the skies. 
 
 For thou art but of dust ; be humble and be wise," 
 
88 
 
 I now wish, with an affection and solicitude which 
 are as foreign to mere compliment as they are strangers to 
 them, to congratulate you on an union which 1 think has 
 much of mind in it as well as of outward advantages, 
 and so much of both, as to promise the greatest share of 
 temporal felicity. But whilst I thus most sincerely con- 
 gratulate you on all the advantages of such an event, I 
 should apprise you, that even these satisfactions and privi- 
 leges should be enjoyed in reference and subordination to 
 the Giver of every good and perfect gift — that they ought 
 frequently to be offered in sacrifice at his footstool — and 
 that whilst you admit no inferior competitor into your 
 hearts. He, tlie Creator of the heart, must reign unrivalled 
 there. 
 
 I would also apprise you, that without any fault of ours, 
 the sweetest, the most innocent earthly enjoyment is liable 
 to frequent and unexpected interruptions. In this ordeal, 
 this prison of the soul, many things combine against our 
 present happiness. The war of elements, the more fierce 
 and cruel war of men's passions, prejudices, and interests, 
 all aggravated by the malice of an unwearied and potent 
 enemy, will one or other of them be frequently reminding 
 the most pros])erous and the most happy, that this wodd 
 affords not the ultimate rest of an immortal spirit, — that 
 earth is not its final home. Of these things, beloved pair, 
 though you knew them before, I have thought it might 
 not be amiss, in the zenith of your allowable enjoyment, 
 to i)ut you again in remembrance. 
 
 No. 54. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1817, ^0 mo. 30. — I have thought T could scarcely do 
 full justice to either of us without just telling thee how 
 
89 
 
 much, and how circumstantially, thou hast once more 
 given expression to ray own feelings and experience in the 
 description of thy outset, or, at least, hitherto short course 
 in the work of the ministry. This I find to be such a 
 counterpart of my case, not only in its earlier stages, but 
 I might almost say to the present time, that I am inclined 
 to give thee thy own words, as the best comment I can 
 devise on this important and interesting subject. 
 
 Thou sayest, " To open my mouth at meeting is a duty 
 which I have had deep reason to believe has been required 
 at my hands not unfrequently. It has seemed to me im- 
 possible to do otherwise, consistently with my own peace, 
 than to go straight forwards in it, without much looking 
 to the judgment of others. What others think of me I 
 know not ; but I do heartly desire to live more singly 
 in this, and in everything else, to the Lord, and not to 
 man." 
 
 These are thy own expressions, to which, if I added 
 anything, it might be, that on this walk it has hitherto 
 been my lot to go, as it were, blindfold, endeavouring 
 with as much simplicity as I can to commit myself and 
 my work to the Lord and my friends, in the hope, that if 
 I materially err, either one or the other will correct 
 me : and I may here acknowledge having been a few 
 times " tenderly admonished" by the latter, and I hope to 
 my profit. 
 
 No. 55. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1818, 2 mo. 27. — Though speaking much of oneself is 
 not very desirable, yet, facts being the best supporters of 
 opinions, I should therefore say, that as time revolves over 
 
90 
 
 my own head, new and in some instances unlooked-for 
 solicitudes attend its revolutions ; and as a further illus- 
 tration I might add, that just now — though my own indi- 
 vidual trust, knowing in whom I have believed, remains 
 unshaken — yet on looking around me, into our little reli- 
 gious society and the world in general, I am embarrassed 
 and perplexed ; so much so that the chief support I have 
 is derived from such passages as these : " Without me ye 
 can do nothing" — " Except ye be converted, and become 
 as little children," &c. — " If any man will be my dis- 
 ciple," &c. — " If any man will be wise," &c. The fol- 
 lowing passage, which I think is from Rutty's Diary, 
 seems also much to suit the present state and views of my 
 mind : " Look at the friendship of men in the world and 
 in the church ; look at the tedious pursuits after, and the 
 imperfections of science ; the darkness and weakness of 
 thy own mind ; the uncertainty of riches ; the danger and 
 hurt annexed to eating and drinking, and to company ; 
 and the suggestions of Lucifer in thy brightest moments ; 
 and see if thou canst rest thy soul here without aspiring 
 after a better state." 
 
 Thus mayst thou, my dear younger brother, perceive, 
 that although so much before thee in years, my food as 
 well as thine consists, in part, of " unpalatable herbs," 
 and is, I assure thee, much more appalling than grateful 
 to a nature such as mine ; yet, being mercifully accom- 
 panied in its ministration by a good degree of submissive 
 acceptance, to use thy ovm language : " I hope, and 
 almost believe," its tendency is to deepen ; for I never 
 remember feeling much more ^^^lling to have my under- 
 standing confounded, my purposes, both spiritual and 
 temporal, broken, — and thus stripped of everything useful 
 
91 
 
 or ornamental, to renew niy endeavours to follow the 
 internal leadings of Christ. Lead, then, and guide through 
 the wilderness, storm, or impenetrable darkness, according 
 to thy holy will, O Lord ! I beseech Thee, is the present 
 prevailing language of my soul. 
 
 As to prayer, such is the nature of my regard for thee, 
 thy dear wife, and sister Priscilla, that it seems almost as 
 natural for me to desire good for you as for myself ; and 
 since the receipt of thy letter I have considered it no small 
 privilege to be enabled, not only thus to crave, but to clothe 
 my desires in the language of solemn petition, that nothing 
 might shake our faith ; that nothing might weaken our 
 attachment to religion in general, or to our friends by par- 
 ticular profession ; and, .^nally, that neither heights nor 
 depths, principalities nor powers, things present nor things 
 to come, may ever be able to separate us from the love of 
 God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. But that, on the 
 other hand, beings of yesterday, and encompassed with in- 
 firmities as we are, we may from time to time be enabled 
 to discern what the small portion of labour assigned to 
 each of us is, in that immense work and incomprehensible 
 plan, whose date runs coeval with time itself, but whose 
 final consummation and glorious triumph are doubtless 
 reserved for eternity. 
 
 No. 56. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1818, 3 mo. 26. Birmingham. — I know I can bid you 
 as sincere and affectionate a farewell upon paper as if I 
 held your right hands : indeed, I think the pen gives some 
 persons, under some circumstances, the advantage of per- 
 sonal interview ; and I am not quite sure that it may not, 
 
92 
 
 just now, enable me to say with more distinctness and 
 emphasis what I wished for your mutual encouragement, 
 to say to you, before we respectively left this neighbour- 
 hood, that I never remember a time, since the commence- 
 ment of our acquaintance, when I have more sensibly felt 
 that we have all drunk " one cup," and have been bap- 
 tized with " one baptism" — a baptism which I need not 
 name — and have thereby been united in those bonds, and 
 initiated into that fellowship, wherein, through the mys- 
 terious workings of Gospel love and power, those things 
 are made bitter to us that once were sweet, and those 
 things sweet that once were bitter ; among which, I trust, 
 we may number " the obedience of faith," and the desire 
 to dedicate ourselves unreservedly to the Lord and his ser- 
 vice. Under this renewed persuasion and hope it is that, 
 without adding or diminishing, I wish to bid you a most 
 cordial and sympathetic farewell. 
 
 J. H. 
 
 I have just recollected that a few words have passed 
 between us on the subject of what I have called my " con- 
 version," and which I have stated to be not yet quite 
 fourteen years ago. This statement is correct ; for though 
 it is true that I assumed a plain appearance, and made 
 many changes in my conduct, on the great shock I re- 
 ceived at twenty-one years of age, yet, unwilling to relin- 
 quish such a captive, strange as it may seem, the enemy 
 was suffered by various transformations, working by the 
 imagination, the will, or the passions, as best suited him, 
 to keep me in bondage until about the time specified : 
 when, by a visitation as sudden, and perhaps as unex- 
 pected, as the vision of Paul, being about the eleventh 
 
93 
 
 hour of the day, on the 21st of the 6th month, 1804, as I 
 was travelling alone upon the highway ; at such a time 
 and manner it was, that " the prey of the terrible" was 
 delivered, his chain was broken, and I was restored to 
 that free agency Avhich, perhaps, I had justly forfeited ; 
 and this free agency is the solemn ground on which I now 
 consider myself to stand. Do not be too critical upon 
 this liumbling confession. 
 
 No. 57- To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1818, 5 mo. 27. — Such is the difference of our present 
 circumstances, that in the retirement of my rural occupa- 
 tion, a retirement attended with much entire solitude, I 
 am at liberty to peruse and reperuse a letter, and, if I 
 possess the skill, extract all its sweets ; whilst to thee, 
 thronged by town avocations of various kinds, a few com- 
 pressed sentences may be an interruption. 
 
 With all my consideration for thy time, I must touch 
 on a few of the heads of thy letter, which I will do with 
 as much brevity as I can. That the Yearly Meeting is so 
 large, and in its beginning so comfortable and interesting, 
 was very satisfactory information ; and as my staying at 
 home was not an untried thing, so it has been accompanied 
 by peace, and, shall I say, something more. On second- 
 day, when the first sitting of ministers and elders would 
 fall, I seemed united in spirit with my dear friends assem- 
 bled there, and to enjoy with them a sweet communion aa 
 at the Lord's table, rejoicing at times, as doubtless would 
 be their favoured experience in the God of our common 
 salvation ! "What condescending goodness to a poor crea- 
 
94 
 
 ture in the midst of care and business, by which that day 
 was rather more than commonly marked ! 
 
 I observe what thou hast said about capital punish- 
 ments, and unite in thy desire that friends, if they move 
 at all, may do it with firmness, and yet with wisdom. 
 Thinking, as I do, that every question of jurisprudence 
 involves something which lies below the surface, and there- 
 fore cannot be well digested, as indeed few things are, in a 
 hurry, I have thought, at times, on this subject, and have 
 read accounts of the extraordinary success of the Americans 
 in taming, by solitary confinement, the figurative bears, 
 wolves, and tigers of human kind, more dreadful than 
 those of the forest. I hope the time may not be far dis- 
 tant, when this and other countries will be equally suc- 
 cessful ; but do not think me cruel in saying, until that 
 time does arrive, I think quiet honesty and unsuspecting 
 innocence ought to be protected in the best way we can 
 against deliberate, systematic, and voluntary wickedness ; 
 and I wish things could be so ordered that Friends might 
 be as active as others in promoting an object so essential, 
 not only to the security of life and property, but to the 
 very existence of social order. 
 
 This is not intended to throw cold water on thy view 
 of the benevolent exertions of rehgion or philanthropy to 
 spare the life even of the greatest criminal. I think the 
 subject worthy the consideration of such a body as a 
 Yearly Meeting of our Society, and I only desire it may 
 have its due share of this consideration. Thou sayest that 
 you have some valiant youth among you ; the young and 
 the old are distinguished by tlieir respective lineaments : 
 age is charged with a coolness bordering on lukewarm- 
 
95 
 
 ness ; youth with a zeal impatient of delay, forcing that 
 which does not readily yield. Temper the ardour of youth 
 with what youth calls the insensibility, and tliou hast, I 
 think, better named the povertt/, of more advanced years ; 
 for are we not, compared with what we have been, poor 
 in health, in spirits, and perhaps in a still more important 
 respect ? Still, should our dullness, our poverty, or what- 
 ever else we call it, keep the unfledged eagle nearer the 
 ground, until he be able to bear elevation, and the fervour 
 of a meridian sun, it may save him from giddiness, and the 
 other dangers of a too early or too adventurous flight. 
 Do not, however, mistake me ; I admire the well-meant 
 and sanguine zeal of youth, when properly directed and 
 steady in its purpose. 
 
 I acknowledge the justice thou hast done my Birming- 
 ham letter, in calling it aflfectionate. It need not make 
 thee doubt thy own conversion, because the circumstances 
 attending it may have somewhat diflfered from mine, seeing 
 that the Author of faith and conversion, unlimited in the 
 means for efifecting any of his purposes, can produce these 
 in an infinite variety of ways, either as best adapted to the 
 subject acted upon, or on principles inscrutable to us, and 
 for reasons whicli we cannot understand. But taking two 
 extreme cases, of which we may form some idea, and which 
 perhaps may not be of very rare occurrence, — whilst some 
 minds su9"er themselves to be almost insensibly allured 
 by the drawings of their Heavenly Father's love, from 
 one degree of growth and experience to another, more 
 obdurate or inflexible spirits persist in their frowardness, 
 until the acuteness of their sufferings, or the thunders of 
 Mount Sinai, reduce them into subjection or terrify them in- 
 to obedience. To this latter class of converts how precious, 
 
96 
 
 how consoling the assurance — an assurance which, perhaps, 
 could alone save them from despair — that He who died for 
 theui hath also ascended on high, hath led captivity cap- 
 tive, hath received gifts for men ; yea, for the relelliom 
 also, that the Lord God might dwell amonar them. 
 
 Free agency is tlie ground on which I now reckon my- 
 self to stand. This agency, I suppose, includes or implies 
 a liberty to choose and to pursue either good or evil, but 
 whatever be its precise meaning, such is my sense of this 
 liability, that its awfulness is almost continually present 
 W'ith me j it is a source of daily and nightly solicitude, 
 and the w arning voice " Woe imto thee, Chorazin — woe 
 unto thee, Bcthsaida," &c., seems at times, as it were, to 
 resound in my ears. 
 
 We have been sometimes cautioned against too great 
 exposure of our most humiliating exercises and expe- 
 riences ; perhaps from the possibility of indulging too com- 
 plaining a disposition on the one hand, or of adminis- 
 tering: discouraoement on the other. But as there were 
 those formerly who were commanded to go and tell their 
 friends how great things had been done for them, whilst 
 others were enjoined to conceal similar facts, so it may be 
 now ; and if an apostle of the first eminence proclaimed 
 himself " less than the least of all saints." may it not be 
 allowable for those who apprehend ttiey possess in their 
 peculiar temperament all the disadvantages of the fall, to 
 describe themselves, when they do it at all, as weaker 
 than the weakest of all their brethren ? And whilst they 
 can feel hope, and believe many good things for others, and 
 have also received much mercy themselves, are neverthe- 
 less unable to approach the sacred footstool on their own 
 account with a more powerful plea than this, " Lord ! 
 
97 
 
 pily, pardon, and help thy poor, unworthy creature, who 
 approaches thee not with confidence, but with confusion." 
 And may not such an one, when addressing a beloved 
 brother, with whom it is almost as impossible for him to 
 dissemble, as it were difficult for him to conceal, simply 
 describe, without either complaint or dismay, how it fares, 
 or has fared with his inmost soul ? If, notwithstanding, 
 thou shouldst think otherwise, " forgive me this wrong." 
 
 No. 58. To Samuel Rouxn. 
 
 1818, 0 mo. 25. — I have felt for thee with religious 
 friendship and esteem on the death of thy late dear mo- 
 tlier, and under circumstances rather perplexing, in thy 
 agricultural concerns. By these we may be taught that 
 it is literally, as well as figuratively, by the sweat 
 of man's brow that he eats bread, by the labour of 
 his hands and the care of his mind ; and yet even this 
 needful toil may be greatly ameliorated by the lessons 
 which, if not too dearly purchased, are of all others the 
 most valuable — T mean the results of our own practice 
 and experience. 
 
 I hope my present communication will neither prove 
 unacceptable nor discouraging ; but if it have any effect, 
 it may be that of diverting the attention from things that 
 are seen to those things that are not seen, and fixing it on 
 that purely spiritual object, the mark for the prize of the 
 high calling of God in Christ Jesus ; for surely other 
 foundation, can no man lay, than that is laid which is 
 Jesus Christ, to whose merits, mediation, and intercession 
 for poor frail and fallen man, I therefore affectionately and 
 earnestly commend thee with myself. 
 
 F 
 
98 
 
 No. 59. To Joseph Foster. 
 
 1818, 8 mo. 7- — I must not omit telling thee how 
 much sweet satisfaction I derived from the communication 
 I received from each of you in the spring. It seemed just 
 the thing to revive my drooping mind from that depres- 
 sion to which, under the conditions of a mortal existence, 
 it appears that the best and wisest of mankind have in all 
 ages been subject ; and therefore, surely, I have neither 
 right nor reason to claim an exemption. And yet, with 
 gratitude to the Author of all our mercies, I have to ac- 
 knowledge, with one formerly, that though sometimes cast 
 down, I am not destroyed or forsaken ; though perplexed 
 by those vicissitudes, both inward and outward, through 
 which I have to pass, I am not in despair. He who is 
 emphatically denominated the Helper in every needful 
 time, has hitherto never failed to aid me, and in various 
 ways to support a faith which, alas ! after all I have 
 known of his ways and his wonders, is often very weak. 
 
 I was obliged by the history of my cousin W. S.'s rye- 
 grass, which appears to me very curious ; but I should 
 think not just the same thing as the herbage of our best 
 pastures, with which strangers appear to be so pleased. 
 But thou shouldst know that I am not, nor ever was, 
 more than half an agriculturist. In youth, my attention 
 was divided with pleasure under many specious, some of 
 them romantic, and others, very injurious forms. In 
 middle life, I was much occupied by mental conflict, and 
 this, too, of various descriptions ; and now, my dear friend, 
 as thou knowest, I am endeavouring to separate myself, in 
 some measure, to the service of the Gospel of Chxist, of 
 
99 
 
 that Jesus who loved me and gave himself for me, and I 
 trust hath called me by his grace : and though I do not 
 affect humility when I acknowledge myself, almost with 
 tears, the least, the last, the unworthiest of his servants, 
 yet thou canst perhaps credit me when I say that my en- 
 gagements, small as they may be in importance, are too 
 many to allow of a very close attention to business. 
 
 No. 60. To Joseph Gcrney. 
 
 1818, 9 mo. 8. — I sincerely congratulate thee, in that 
 on thy return to thy usual residence, after a pretty long 
 absence from it, thou hast been enabled to rejoice and 
 give thanks, on the very spot which, though doubtless tlie 
 former scene of thy highest enjoyments, has also been 
 that of recent and severe trials. And is not this, I have 
 been ready to say, the humble triumph of faith ? Is it 
 not the victory of a spirit measurably redeemed ? Yet, 
 whilst I thus infer from thy delight in the Lord, (for such, 
 from thy " dissection" of thankfulness, I think thy delight 
 must have been,) I do not regret thy being so far no poet 
 as to be restrained or incapacitated from rapture, thinking 
 as I do that the Christian's joy should partake more of a 
 certain old-fashioned, apostolic thing, called " trembling," 
 and that tlie very zenith even of religious rejoicing should 
 never rise above the tranquil hope tliat " our names are 
 written in heaven." 
 
 I am sometimes struck with the chapter of beatitudes, 
 on contrasting the characters on whom the blessings and 
 woes are pronounced, finding as I do " the poor," " the 
 meek," " the mourner," " the peace-maker," " the pure in 
 
 F 2 
 
100 
 
 heart," among the first, and their opposites among the 
 last ; and this line of providential conduct towards the 
 human race may, I think, be traced through much of the 
 Scriptures, perhaps through the whole of the New Testa- 
 ment. I rejoice in the comfort thou hast been permitted 
 to take in thy place and in thy God, believing as I do 
 that there is a joy chastised, a satisfaction restrained in 
 the way I have hinted at. 
 
 It may be as evident to thee as it is to myself, that from 
 difference of temperament, — of our mental course, — we are 
 rather prone to lean to the opposite sides of a subject, and 
 this apparently without any design ; whilst thou keepest 
 guard on the right hand, I would place one on the left. 
 Thus whilst a leading position in thy letter is, (I speak 
 with reverence,) that a gracious and merciful God is no 
 hard task-master, and that therefore He ought to be cheer- 
 fully loved, I perhaps may be allowed to think that for 
 the same reasons He should be solemnly feared ; and I 
 dare say we shall both agree, that in the due proportion 
 and exercise of these two principles, fear and love com- 
 bined, like heat and moisture in vegetation, consists our 
 greatest security, and deepest if not most luxuriant growth. 
 After all, it is to me a very pleasant circumstance in our 
 acquaintance, that our aim being similar, whatever route 
 we take, we mostly meet at last, and not unfrequently 
 find, on comparing our thoughts, that they have been pre- 
 viously running in nearly the same channel. Thus I was 
 quite prepared to join in thy belief, that an entire resigna- 
 tion of all that we are, and all that we possess, is the road 
 to the purest and sweetest enjoyment ; and further, that it 
 is the only thing that can lead us to that most desirable, 
 
101 
 
 though too little desired state, of " having nothing, yet 
 possessing all things," in the will and at the disposal of 
 Him who thus really becomes our " all in all." 
 
 It seems that both thyself and thy dear companion 
 (whom, though I have not yet named, I hope never to 
 forget) had become much united in love to the friends you 
 have lately left. I do not wonder at this, and I think with 
 thee that thy last remark on the nature of this love was an 
 improvement or good addition to the first, by considering 
 it, in kind at least, as universal and complete, rather than 
 an individual and proportionate enjoyment. This I think 
 must be the case when, in a collective body, this precious 
 influence is felt to pervade the whole, and circulate freely, 
 as from vessel to vessel — a rare thing, of which I just 
 know enough to believe in it ; but may not even this sub 
 limest spiritual sense with which we are endowed, perfect 
 and one as it is in its nature, vary in degree according to 
 the receptive power of different vessels, so that, like the 
 state of which I consider it an earnest and a foretaste, 
 whilst the capacity of receiving this blessedness may vary, 
 yet every measure is full both as to quantity and quality, 
 so that "• he that has much has nothing over, and he that 
 has little has no lack." This, in short, is my view of the 
 happiness of heaven, a view which, whilst it admits of one 
 star differing from another star in glory, yet, like the 
 beautiful order of the planetary system, allows of no jar- 
 ring or discord. All harmonize, all run their appointed 
 courses, and all without envying, perhaps without know- 
 ing, the different degrees of consciousness which each re- 
 spectively possesses : all, all unite in tlieir Creator's praise ! 
 
 I have read most of the volumes of Mary Fletclier with 
 fiatisfaction, and I would willingly hope some edification, 
 
102 
 
 satisfied with her wonderful narrations, strongly as they 
 taste of a credulity which my early scepticism led me to 
 despise, and which I cannot yet receive without much 
 allowance, even believing as I now do that there are in 
 the experience of divers a few very significant dreams, 
 some remarkable providences ; and far be it from me to con- 
 sider even wonderful revelations withheld from a favoured 
 number, to whom for all-wise purposes they may be espe- 
 cially needful, either as means of conversion or in pre- 
 paring them for vessels of honour and usefulness ; but in 
 the belief of tlie author having been a sincere, industrious, 
 and successful labourer in her Master's cause, as well as 
 from many of her wise and experienced remarks, I really 
 hope I am the better. The perusal of these books has also 
 confirmed me in a notion 1 had previously entertained, that 
 among the spiritual problems of our day, tliere is one 
 which our forefathers, surrounded as they were by dif- * 
 ferent circumstances, could never, by human sagacity at 
 least, have predicted, and, like some of us, had it been 
 proposed to them, they might have found it rather difficult 
 to solve. I mean the tendency to union among the better 
 sort of characters under almost every profession of the 
 Christian name, though still widely differing in many 
 opinions and practices. This I find to be a subject too 
 wonderful for me, and whicli I can make little more of 
 than indulge the hope which I think it naturally inspires, 
 that good and not evil may be the ultimate result ; — at 
 the same time, believing that there never was a time since 
 the origin of our Society, when the members of it had 
 more need to be careful that they do not get overcharged 
 with better things than those merely connected with this 
 life, but that each individual endeavour to know his owa 
 
103 
 
 religious station, and do his own particular duty, without 
 too much anxiety as to the task assigned to another. 
 
 No. 61. To Joseph Foster. 
 
 1818, 9 mo. 18. — After ascribing much indeed to an 
 over-estimate on your part of my acquaintance and cor- 
 respondence, I must, whatever be the real nature or 
 ground of such an association, disclaim all merit as due to 
 myself therein, knowing most assuredly that in me, that 
 is, in my flesh, or first and fallen nature, according to the 
 experience of an eminent apostle, dwelleth no good thing ; 
 and that therefore, if either benefit or consolation pass 
 from me, either by word or writing, to any of my beloved 
 friends, the good originates in a higher source, whilst as a 
 co-worker therewith, I am indeed a most unprofitable 
 servant, doing only that which, whether considered as a 
 social, reasonable, or dependent being, grateful to its 
 Author, or benevolent to its fellow, it is my duty to do. 
 As well as thou, and doubtless hundreds more, I am at 
 times much tried, often seeming to myself, in these low 
 seasons, like a pelican in the %vilderness or a sparrow on 
 the house-top ; or to change the figure, if a star at all, one 
 of the least magnitude, glimmering in midnight, and soon 
 to be eclipsed. Thus, my dear friend, it fares with us in our 
 pilgrimage ; thus it also fares with our brethren who are 
 in the world; and thus, for our encouragement, let us re- 
 member it has fared with the spiritual traveller during his 
 state of probation, through all the preceding ages of time. 
 Thus circumstanced, how great is the goodness of our 
 Creator, in the variety of means by which, without destroy- 
 ing or even disturbing our free-agency. He imparts relief 
 
 r 
 
104 
 
 to our weary and thirsty minds ; and in this way, I would 
 repeat, how every way acceptable were those letters to 
 me, which, whilst they renewed my former afl'ection for 
 their writers, led me, I trust, according to my own doc- 
 trine, to look beyond them, even to the God of all comfort. 
 
 Although the coast of Lincolnshire did not, I believe, 
 suffer equally with many other districts from the extraor- 
 dinary heat and drought of the summer, yet the late rains 
 have been very grateful to us, in reviving the general 
 aspect of all surrounding objects, so that both animal and 
 vegetable nature may be said, in the language of ancient 
 metaphor, " to rejoice." Our fields are fast resuming 
 their wonted verdure — the woods are beautiful — our flocks 
 and herds feed with increased content — a few remaining 
 flowers blow — and, as with gladdened hearts, many little 
 warblers hail this second appearance of spring. For com- 
 parable to that cheering and fruitful season is the present 
 deliglitful scenery, which only seems to want the hearts of 
 men well tuned, to praise, in the language of poetry and 
 Scripture, the Author of so much excellency and beauty, 
 saying, 
 
 " These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, 
 Thyself how glorious, then ! " 
 
 " Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty ! " 
 
 No. 62. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1818, 10 mo. 27. — My late Yorkshire journey, espe- 
 cially the Quarterly Meeting, does not afford me, in re- 
 trospect, all the satisfaction I could wisli. I believe my 
 faith ouoht to have been so much strengthened as to have 
 helped me more than it did in the discliarge of my own 
 
105 
 
 duty, instead of which I suffered slavish fear, or sometliing 
 no better, to prevail to my hurt ; and to the setting thee a 
 very bad example, which I am desirous of thus acknow- 
 ledging by way of reparation. I believe I had better have 
 been simply communicative in the meeting of ministers 
 and elders, as well as in that for worship on fourth-day 
 morning, wherein thou discoveredst my backwardness. 
 And although motive seemed just at the time to shield me 
 from condemnation, I cannot now look back without feel- 
 ing it ; and my only present relief consists in receiving the 
 correction ; for is it not a favour, even in the way of 
 chastisement to be owned as a son ? 
 
 Partly from physical, but chiefly from mental causes, I 
 was induced the other day to observe one of those fasts 
 which I have sometimes thought to be not only salubrious, 
 but indispensable. Shall I describe it as consisting not so 
 much in an abstinence from bodily food, as a cessation 
 from business, books, conversation, and as much as possible 
 from the vain cogitations of a mind too prone to wander; 
 which, however, in these seasons of vacuity and weariness, 
 I find it less difficult to restrain than ordinary. As I thus 
 sat by my own fireside, which was made solitary by the 
 absence of my son in his agricultural, and my daughter in 
 her domestic arrangements — whilst thus sitting with eyes 
 closed to the many great and good works that distin- 
 guish the jiresent eventful and auspicious day, and ears 
 deaf to the songs of righteousness, which are now frequently 
 heard as from tlie uttermost parts of the earth — with my 
 own unstrimg luarp upon the willows — even in this pro- 
 found retirement, this valley of Achor, I waited not en- 
 tirely in vain, but found my mind renewedly bound to that 
 little handful of individuals, to which I am not more 
 
 F 5 
 
106 
 
 united by birth and education than by judgment. 0 
 what I then felt, what do I often feel, for these my fellow- 
 professors, persuaded as I am that many of them, I some- 
 times fear the greater number, are as really captives spiri- 
 tually, as ever the Jews were outwardly ! But the thing 
 that, in these times of humiliation and retirement, has of 
 late afforded me the most satisfaction and encouragement, 
 has been the near unity of spirit which I have felt with 
 the ministers of this my people. And if one part of these 
 has had a greater share in my exercises, it has been the 
 few friends of this description in Norfolk, who, from 
 causes which I cannot explain, and which I sometimes 
 wonder at, really feel as bone of my bone. 
 
 I do not forget our excellent advices to individuals of 
 this class, one of which is to guard against a familiarity 
 which tends to hurt. But I hope the engagement and 
 exercise I have just been alluding to has a better source 
 than selfishness, and a deeper one than imagination ; as it 
 seems both to originate and centre in the fervent desire, 
 t'.iat whilst many are doing excellently without the pale of 
 our particular communion, we may be favoured to know, 
 and faithful to perform, our respective duties in it ; that 
 we may not only watch as on the walls of Zion, and 
 build her palaces ; but that, on still more sacred ground, in 
 the hallowed interior of her temple, we may be qualified 
 ti) intercede for her scattered and captive children in this 
 ancient, fervent, and pathetic language — " Spare thy 
 people, O Lord! and give not thine heritage to reproach." 
 
 No. 63.— To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1818, 12 mo, 22. — Perhaps we are never worse em- 
 
107 
 
 ployed than whilst reasoning on things to which reason is 
 incompetent ; this is one of our most vulnerable quarters. 
 Here I believe the enemy has often stolen in upon me ; 
 here he lias harassed, and I mi^ht almost without a fiffure 
 say, harrowed, my soul. I therefore now find it conduce 
 more to my peace and safety to be passive under all that 
 I cannot comprehend or explain, feeling as I can feel, 
 being what I can be ; either standing still or going for- 
 ward, and in both cases, as much as in me lies, nothing 
 fearing, nothing doubting. 
 
 Still I hope it may not be departing from this rule into 
 an unprofitable labyrinth, if on the interesting subject of 
 spiritual attractions we suppose that, both in the church 
 militant and triumphant, there may be such a thing as 
 classification or degree, according to temperament, expe- 
 rience, and other affinities : a condition which I think 
 may subsist without any interference with general service 
 here, or universal harmony hereafter. 
 
 Thus we find, even while struggling here below, there 
 are seasons and circumstances in which all the varieties of 
 Christian character, possessing diversities of gifts and 
 imder different administrations, are yet found to acknow- 
 ledge the same Lord, and, as if incorporated into one 
 body, can unite in ascribing glory to Him, can, as if with 
 one voice, unite in the highest anthem sung in earth or 
 heaven, " Thy will be done." And is all this either more 
 or less than an evidence or foretaste of that felicity which 
 shall receive its consummation in a world to come, where 
 countless individuality and endless gradation shall make 
 up the vast, the blessed assembly of saints and angels, and 
 the spirits of just men made perfect. 
 
108 
 
 No. 64. To J. J. GuRNEv. 
 
 1819, 2 mo. 8. — Among those meditations on creation 
 and its Author, which often lead me to wonder, and some- 
 times I hope to adore, a frequent and favourite one is ou 
 that kind of simple power, or power in the abstract, which 
 is not only dispensed to man, the deputy lord of nature, 
 but to every creature wherein is the breath of animal life, 
 over that small portion of matter to which the faculty of 
 a will is attached. So that by volition only this portion 
 of matter is to a certain extent under the absolute con- 
 trol of free and voluntary determinations. Nor is the 
 limitation of this extraordinary power less remarkable than 
 its extension, being defined by a boundary as complete 
 and arbitrary as that of the ocean, to whose proud and 
 restless waves it has been said, " Thus far shall ye go, 
 and no further." So whilst myself, my dog, or my hoi'se, 
 by a mode or agency as incomprehensible as it is evident, 
 can with the greatest facility move the whole or any part 
 of our own bodies, we have no such power by simple 
 volition over the smallest part of another animal, whether 
 of our own or any other species. We could not in this 
 way, light as it is, stir the wing of a fly. 
 
 Now for the tale, were it not for a further degree of the 
 limitation just adverted to over that material clog to which 
 my own intellectual part is fettered, or had 1 the vnngs of 
 a dove with skill to use them, I think I should not just 
 now fly into the wilderness, but to Earlhara, and might 
 probably soon be placed by thy fireside instead of my own. 
 As this style of writing cannot be taken for the notes of 
 sorrow, so it may perhaps be as little suspected of any 
 
109 
 
 alliance with sympathy ; and yet if I am not deceived, 
 sympathy, sweet and sacred, and ofttimes sufteiing sym- 
 pathy is tlie remote cause of my present attraction towards 
 
 thee and thine 
 
 Having always thought the subject rather intricate, I 
 have been afraid of entering; into discussion on the religious 
 instruction of youth, lest I should embarrass rather than 
 illustrate it. It seems to me to consist of various parts, on 
 which, for want of viewing them distinctly, it may be easy 
 for us to misunderstand each other. We have also diver- 
 sities of gifts from the same Spirit, and different members of 
 the spiritual body have not the same office, of which, to 
 myself, at least, my own case, is a remarkable proof; for 
 whilst I entertain the most favourable opinion of many 
 great and good works whicli are now going on in the 
 world, I am so far from taking any decidedly active part 
 in them, that as to any public step, by act or deed, further 
 than a little money, I seem, to borrow a phrase, " hermeti- 
 cally sealed," my spiritual solicitude being concentrated as 
 it were on this one point, — the individual salvation of those 
 who are members of our own religious Society, each of 
 whom, notwithstanding the privilege of being born in a 
 country denominated Christian, I consider to be born into 
 the world as much the child of fallen nature as the Ice- 
 lander or the Hindoo, and consequently to stand in equal 
 need of convincement and conversion to their own nominal 
 religion with those who liave never heard its name. And 
 to the great proportion of such as remain in an uncon- 
 verted or unregenerate state, neglecting, despising, or for- 
 saking the privileges of their birthright — to this it is tliat 
 I think we must chiefly ascribe the great difi"erence there 
 is between the present state of our Society, and that first 
 
110 
 
 period of it, wherein all were convinced, and, as appears 
 by its records, most of tliem were faithful. 
 
 Perhaps the exchisive anxiety whicli I feel to a much 
 greater degree than I can express for my brethren and 
 kinsfolk after the flesh, or by profession, may partly origi- 
 nate in the recollection of the means by which, through 
 grace, I liave become wliat I am. When I was young 
 there was mucli less of outward endeavours araono; Friends, 
 at least those of my acquaintance, to instruct their youth, 
 than, however deficient we may still appear, has been the 
 case in later years. And thougli I and doubtless many 
 others had parents who taught them to read and reverence 
 the Scriptures, as well as occasionally to peruse the 
 writings of our early Friends, here was about the whole of 
 what miolit be called our religious education. Yet even 
 in this way I remember to have acquired such a knowledge 
 of the sacred Scriptures, and of the leading principles of 
 my own profession, as during the course of a lamentable 
 apostasy never forsook, though it could not reclaim me. 
 How often, when by a course of vain speculation and dan- 
 gerous experiment, I seemed to be exploring the depths of 
 the fall — how often in this mad career has the secret ap- 
 plication of a text arrested my progress, and shaken the 
 sceptic in the scorner's chair ! How often too, when act- 
 ing inconsistently with my principles, have I been assured 
 to a certainty, that these deviations were neither more nor 
 less than denying Him before men, who, if I died in this 
 state, would deny ^le before his Father and the holy 
 angels ! and under a sense of the awful responsibility which 
 I was thus, in violation of my knowledge, incurring, how 
 often have I been ready to wish that I had never been 
 born, or at any rate that I had not by birthright inherited 
 
Ill 
 
 so pure and holy a Christian name as tliat which I bore, 
 and ahnost daily dishonoured ! 
 
 In addition to this, it was impossible for me to forget 
 how unavailins: were all outward endeavours towards 
 bringing me out of this horrible pit, and that neither men 
 nor books, even his instruments, had anything to do in 
 plucking me at length as a brand out of the fire. Remem- 
 bering this, I am perhaps the more fearful of infringing 
 upon the office of that mighty Redeemer who thus merci- 
 fully wrought for me with a high hand and an outstretched 
 arm. This consideration may possibly make me more 
 desirous that neither myself nor those whom I most ten- 
 derly love may attempt anything out of the line of our 
 respective appointments, nor in it, but so far as we may be 
 required and assisted. 
 
 9th. — If parents and guardians of youth were as assi- 
 duous as I think the importance of the occasion demands 
 in the work of their own salvation, a corresponding soli- 
 citude would be felt for those committed to their trust, 
 and a way would at times be opened, when the Scriptures 
 were read, to explain and expound passages of them in the 
 life of trutli ; and in a degree of tlie same life also, would 
 they, as ability was afforded, be concerned to impress the 
 principles of their peculiar profession on the minds of their 
 children or pupils. 
 
 My son is gone into Yorkshire, so that I am left with 
 only my young housekeeper Rachel. To her, on rainy 
 days, evenings, and when thus engaged, I am a house 
 companion. By way of reconciling this lively girl to re- 
 tirement and herself, I am at convenient intervals reading 
 to her Bates's Rural Philosophif. In this respectable per- 
 formance, for such I think it, I happened, since laying 
 
112 
 
 down my pen yesterday, to fall upon a passage which 
 seems so connected with the principal suhject of my letter, 
 and is at the same time in such accordance with my senti- 
 ments, that I am inclined to detain thee a little longer by 
 its perusal. " Since the original apostasy, man is become 
 not only guilty, but depraved ; and besides the pardon of 
 his sins, needs the medicinal grace of Christ to heal the 
 disorders of his nature, and enable him to exert his facul- 
 ties in a due and spiritual manner, and thus to restore him 
 to a proper use of himself. In the great business of edu- 
 cation, of which we have been speaking, every method 
 tliat can be employed without this divine aid to predispose 
 and habitually to influence the heart of the pupil, how- 
 ever it might serve to supply him with those qualities 
 wliich would render him amiable and useful in society^ 
 would fail to provide him witli that virtue which must 
 qualify him for lieaven ; and every subsequent attempt to 
 acquire this qualification after he came to act for himself, 
 would, without the same divine succour, prove equally 
 inefficacious." — Page 157, 158. 
 
 No. 65. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1819, 2 mo. 16. — I have of late been under so much 
 secret exercise, as to have but little to spare for others in 
 the general, to which a long epistle to thy dear nephew at 
 Earlham forms an exception. But commonly I have had 
 enough to do to hold fast, craving patience, perseverance, 
 and light upon an obscure and discouraging path. Help 
 me, if thou canst, to d.sire these blessings. 0 the-e in- 
 ward crucifixions! these deaths oft ! yet what should I bo 
 without them ? and I hope I am on the whole more de- 
 
113 
 
 sirous of rightly passing through such baptisms of the will 
 unto death, than to be exempt from them : but I can hardly 
 tell how this is. One thing, I believe, that were it not 
 for gracious help in times of extremity, my danger would 
 be extreme. But I am now enjoying a truly quiet morn- 
 ing, (though in an every way outwardly dark and cloudy 
 day,) which I esteem a great favour. 0 the refuge from 
 inward storm, what an inestimable, what an unspeakable 
 privilege ! 
 
 No. 66. To J. J. GCRNEY. 
 
 1819, 5 mo. 6. — Yesterday was rather distinguished in 
 my spiritual annals by a poverty and a pressure, at which 
 had it been entirely new, I might well have been alarmed, 
 or could I have believed, that it depended altogether on 
 myself, I ought certainly to have been ashamed. But un- 
 easy as it felt to me, perhaps it might be preparative to 
 my receiving with a better understanding, and probably 
 with increased satisfaction, the conviction which it wrought : 
 — that the remnant among professing Christians in all 
 ages, and as applied to our little Society, the remnant of 
 this residue, who have been desirous of endeavourino- — 
 alas ! for the feebleness of execution — to live nearest to 
 their Lord, in an entire dedication of heart, and unreserved 
 surrender of their wills to his Divine will : these have 
 always been a spiritually poor and tried number, who on 
 comparing themselves not only with the worst of mankind, 
 but with a numerous class of ordinary believers, under va- 
 rious names, who go on careering, as it were, in the paths 
 of virtue, and who seem nearly prepared at all times to 
 sing the songs of Sion, — such they might address with 
 
114 
 
 some propriety in the language of an eminent apostle, de- 
 scriptive of that narrowest part of the narrow way, in 
 which himself and a few others, for few I must suppose 
 them, were concerned to walk; see 1 Cor. iv. 9 — 13. 
 Well, to this cross, as I generally find it the best way un- 
 der every humiliation, it seemed to be the task of yester- 
 day to bring my mind, and say Amen, not counting my 
 life (especially the life of my will) dear unto myself, if so 
 be I may finish my course with joy, &c. 
 
 No. 67. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1819, 6 mo. 23.— Whilst I congra- 
 tulate this dedicated couple on their victory, how tenderly 
 do I pity them ! so much so, that I have even prayed for 
 them, in that secret retirement, wherein I have been wont 
 to put up petitions to the throne of grace ; and on various 
 occasions, to pour forth libations of tears, not to an idol, 
 but to the true and living God. I have said, on various 
 occasions, for though they have but one issue, how many 
 are the sources of our tears ! many are the causes, which 
 so oppress and overcharge the heart, as to compel it to 
 seek relief in this way. Joy, grief, sympathy, suffering, 
 everything can weep but despair : it only precludes this last 
 resource of weariness or affliction, turns heaven to brass, 
 and earth to iron ; and were it not for the torture of every 
 nerve, might be said to petrify its unhappy victims. O 
 thou bottomless, thou horrible pit ! how in thy dark bo- 
 som is every evil found ! from thy dread bourn how every 
 good retreats ! in attempting to portray thee, expression, 
 becomes lame, and description beggared. 
 
115 
 
 I would now just say, that after all I have remarked 
 
 about dear , and his wife, and much as I feel that 
 
 I love them, I mean no compliitient to mere human nature, 
 nor have any view of improperly exalting one above an- 
 other. Of them, or any other of my beloved friends, I 
 would say with a deeply tried and experienced apostle, 
 " God forbid that I," or that they " should glory, save in 
 the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is 
 crucified unto me, and I unto the world." Rather may we 
 be able also to adopt the language of the same inspired 
 writer: " For our rejoicing is this, the testimony of our 
 conscience, that in simplicity and godly sincerity, not with 
 fleshly wisdom, but by the grace of God, we have had our 
 conversation in the world." 
 
 Having, in a manner of which I consider myself very un- 
 worthy, been permitted to share in thy aboundings, I am 
 quite disposed, should circumstances call for it, to travel 
 with thee in another direction. For us it has sometimes 
 happened, so it may happen again, even those who are 
 endeavouring faithfully to follow Christ, may not only sub- 
 ject themselves to the laugh and the frown of the worst of 
 mankind, but by some of their movements may even 
 excite the apprehensions of those who are engaged in the 
 same cause with themselves ; but as all endeavour to keep 
 their respective and individual places, and as patience and 
 humility are abode under, I believe a right understanding 
 of each other will generally be come to at last. Thus, as 
 the sun dispels the fogs of our material world, so where all 
 mean well, I apprehend will the light of truth, if sought 
 after and waited for, scatter the perplexity, which perhaps 
 for the trial of faith and other virtues, may for a season bo 
 permitted to rest as on the valley of intellectual vision. 
 
116 
 
 No. 68. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1819, 7 mo. 3. — I thought our parting opportunity at 
 Mildred's Court was even more than supporting, it was 
 cheering ; and might seem to make up for much that, as in- 
 dividuals in the course of the previous meetings, and the 
 various exercises attending them, we migljt have gone 
 through. The feeling was precious, and I thought had a 
 tendency to renew and strengthen the bonds not only of 
 public but of private union ; and it left a very sweet con- 
 firmation on my mind, which is not yet dissipated, of the 
 reciprocal disinterestedness and sincerity of our friendship, 
 and may I add of its value also at particular seasons. For 
 though we may sometimes think that nothing temporal 
 can be dearer to us than our children, and we are sensible 
 too of the high worth of our junior friends ; still these are 
 all the companions of another day, and however tenderly 
 disposed towards iis, cannot in all cases feel, as true con- 
 temporaries may feel one for another. They have not like 
 these had time to hear and see the same things, their ex- 
 perience has not led them through the same paths — paths 
 which, however erratic, dangerous, or bewildering they 
 may sometimes have been, afford, on retrospect in life's 
 declining day to the few remaining fellow-travellers, a so- 
 cial and sympathetic fellow-feeling, that perhaps nothing 
 else could give, and which makes them very dear to each 
 other in times of weakness or suffering. 
 
 . . . . I believe, that " the meekness and gentleness 
 of Christ" ill others, at least, may be congenial to the tem- 
 perament of my own mind. Thunder and storm have, from 
 very early life, generally terrified and distracted me, whilst 
 
117 
 
 the softer descendings of the dew of Herraon have some- 
 times dissolved that in me which the tempests of Mount 
 Sinai seemed only to paralyze. Yet doubtless these may 
 sometimes, and in some cases, be the proper medium of 
 divine communication. But how condescending is the 
 goodness, and how incomprehensible the wisdom of the 
 Most High, in accommodating the creatures, which He has 
 formed, according to their various capacities and characters, 
 which He alone fully know-s ! Blessed be his name ! 
 
 No. 69. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1819, 10 mo. 25. — I have been much concerned to hear 
 of Priscilla's late illness, but from what thou hast said, I 
 hope she may be restored to her friends, and that not only 
 lier mortal body may recover its fonner strength and 
 activity, but that her immortal mind may, through the 
 remainder of her pilgrimage, be preserved firm on the sure 
 foundation and Rock of Ages ; so that should a degree of 
 reduction and suffering be allotted her, in time, whereof 
 minds of a higher tone only are capable, she may through 
 an endless eternity enjoy a portion of felicity, to which 
 perhaps spirits of a certain order only may be commen- 
 surate. This view, though it may seem rather speculative, 
 is I hope innocent, as I believe that in heaven there will 
 be neither complaining nor want ; but that every vessel 
 will be filled to its utmost capacity, and that all, both small 
 and great, will unite in one universal Halleluiah of grati- 
 tude, thanksgiving, and praise. 
 
 Thou tellest me, that thou hast need of deep and abiding 
 humiliation ; this I believe, whether they know it or not, is 
 
118 
 
 the case of every son and daughter of Adam, though 
 unhappily it does not generally appear to be so understood, 
 at least not acted upon. To the thoroughly awakened 
 mind, I should think nothing can be more obvious, as in 
 this low valley it is that we not only find a door of hope, 
 but discern the path of duty, and receive fresh commission 
 and ability to walk therein. 
 
 No. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1819, 12 mo. 29. — The tone of my mind is I think 
 somewhat improved, insomivch that though not entirely 
 free from solicitude, — for who can sleep on a mast? — I 
 am in possession of perhaps as great equanimity of feeling 
 as may reasonably be expected in a state wherein the 
 wind frequently blows strong, and is often shifting its 
 quarters, or, to speak more intelligibly, where fears within 
 and fightings or perplexing circumstances without, are 
 every now and then assailing us. 
 
 I have often thought of, but I believe never yet noticed, 
 a passage in each of thy two last letters to me. The first 
 arising out of an intimacy thou hadst then lately formed 
 with E. H., whose mind thou hast described as just open- 
 ing to religion, from whence thou hast found occasion on 
 one hand to rejoice at tlie progress of good in " middle, 
 high, and low," and on the other to lament the operation 
 of an opposite principle, in a great proportion of mankind, 
 concluding with the expression of an earnest desire that all 
 might be brought to the Redeemer. I trust I am thy 
 companion in each of these feelings. 
 
 The other particular to which I am inclined to allude is 
 the more literal interpretation, corresponding with thy own 
 
119 
 
 •experience, wliich thou art disposed to give to the seventh 
 chapter of Romans, than perhaps may even by Friends be 
 generally supposed to belong to it : here we are agreed 
 also. To which 1 would add the appalling description of 
 the proceeds of the heart of man, as detailed by our 
 Saviour, Mark, vii, 21, 22, 23, and Luke, vi. 45, and then 
 I think we have a true and complete picture of human 
 nature, as derived from the fallen state of our first parents, 
 — a picture which I think our system-builders might have 
 contemplated to as much advantage without first invent- 
 ing the new, and as it appears to me, superfluous name of 
 original sin. This sort of coinage I am never very fond 
 of, preferring the plain, unsophisticated language of Scrip- 
 ture. And as I think we have on the subject before us 
 enough of obvious terms and obvious meaning to extort 
 from us the exclamation, " O Adam ! Adam ! what hast 
 thou done ?" so on the other hand, " clinging close," as 
 thou hast aptly said, to the redeeming principle of life in 
 Christ Jesus, we shall find cause to adopt this triumphant 
 language of the apostle, " Thanks be to God for his im- 
 speakable gift." 
 
 Though I am neither casuist nor disputant, yet I think 
 it is desirable that we should have a correct, and then no 
 matter how concise a view of the groimd we occupy in this 
 our state of probation. In order to obtain such a view, 
 perhaps it may be needful both to reconnoitre the number 
 and strength of our enemies, as well as to fathom the 
 extent of our own weakness and corruption, seeing that 
 out of these depths of inquiry and examination the most 
 availing cries for deliverance have often ascended to the 
 throne of grace. 
 
 Not that I think all are alike assaulted by the common 
 
120 
 
 adversary, or that we .are equally plunged into the mire 
 and clay of sensual and selfish corruption. We may sin, 
 and come very far short of the glory of God, and thereby 
 have ample cause for humiliation and repentance, without 
 the actual commission of every crime into which some of 
 our fellow-creatures are found unhappily to falh Still I 
 believe every one who attentively observes what passess 
 within him and without him, I mean his own propensities, 
 and the positive, unqualified wickedness, which among 
 high and low, rich and poor, learned and ignorant, abound 
 in the world, will find a full illustration and living com- 
 ment on the Scriptures to which we have alluded, and 
 perhaps some justification of the conclusion we have 
 drawn from them. 
 
 And now, my dear friend, let us who profess to believe 
 in the saving grace and truth which comes by Jesus 
 Christ, — the second Adam — the Lord from heaven — let 
 us, who make this profession, close our somewhat cheerless 
 theme with a renewed eiFort to build each other up in our 
 most holy faith, by recurring again to the solemn, yet 
 joyous ascription, " Thanks be to God for his unspeakable 
 gift," not only now, but for ever and ever. Amen. 
 
 I have lately been to my own Quarterly Meeting, which, 
 perhaps partly from natural and partly from other causes, 
 I approached under some discouragement ; but as on some 
 similar occasions, I returned well satisfied with having 
 been there. So true it is, that it remains to be good even 
 for the veiy fete to endeavour to assemble together for 
 religious purposes ; as the bonds of unity and fellowship 
 are thereby strengthened, and a degree of renewed ability 
 frequently vouchsafed to hold on our way, if not with con- 
 tinual rejoicing, at least without daring to murmur or 
 
121 
 
 repine, seeing that our sufferings are deserved, and our en- 
 joyments altogether unmerited. The last is a sentiment 
 with which I have been long, and perhaps I might say 
 deeply impressed. There seems to be a harmony in it 
 which reconciles us not only to the dispensations, but to 
 the attributes of the Deity, with every one of which as 
 the soul approaches perfection she becomes increasingly 
 believing, and increasingly enamoured. She can then sing 
 not only of wisdom, power, and goodness, but of justice 
 also : " Yea, in the way of thy judgments, O Lord, have 
 we waited for Thee." (Isaiah, xxvi. 8.) 
 
 No. 71- To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1820, 1 mo. 9. — I have often thought of Norwich since I 
 left it, especially of thy dear uncle and aunt, who were then 
 under much solicitude, occasioned by the recent afflictions 
 of divers of their near connexions, the circle of which is 
 so extensive, and its visitations of sorrow for the last few 
 years so frequent, as must, I have thought, keep their 
 sympathy in almost unremitting exercise. It is sometimes 
 said that repeated strokes harden the heart, and that 
 therefore the feelings of old folks are obtuse : I would say, 
 or soften it, and therefore render them more acute ; for 
 strange as it may seem, it is yet not improbable that 
 these opposite efiFects are by similar causes produced on 
 different subjects. I would just remark that under every 
 trial, whether new, or such as we have formerly known, 
 there is not perhaps a better practical lesson than this, — 
 Let patience have its perfect work. Knowing the value of 
 this lesson, and by long experience, the need I have of it, 
 
 a 
 
122 
 
 perhaps I may without boasting add, " herein do I exer- 
 cise myself daily f with what success it does not become 
 me to say — indeed I cannot tell — but have much reason- 
 able ground for distrust. 
 
 I pity thy dear brother and his wife on account of 
 their winterly and hazardous voyage to Ireland, on which 
 thou hast made some valuable observations on the ex- 
 cellence and advantage of a firm trust in God. It is in- 
 deed an excellent thinsr thus to trust in Him at all times, 
 and I believe a thing not entirely at our command, but 
 rather a blessing ujjon o\ir endeavours after it. In thus 
 striving to support a faith too apt to waver, we are some- 
 times equally delighted and encouraged, by pursuing the 
 ideas of omniscience, omnipotence, and goodness to the 
 extent of our limited faculties for comprehending them. 
 What security there appears in the view thus afforded of 
 Divine protection, in contemplating the exercise of attri- 
 butes which at once incline to all that is wise, great, and 
 benevolent, with power to execute the wondrous, the mag- 
 nificent designs, volition and act inseparably connected, — 
 the numbering our hairs and the caring for sparrows, — 
 the removing of mountains and the support of innumerable 
 worlds, — all performed with greater ease than the most 
 skilful musician can modulate the tones of his instru- 
 ment ! 
 
 It were diflScult to imagine that after being helped thus 
 to believe — that after such a delectable vision, we should 
 ever awain be harassed with doubt or fear, did we not 
 know that poor human nature, amongst its many other 
 defects, often acts as a preponderating weight against itself, 
 so that were it not for the counteraction of that influence 
 which is appropriately denominated an arm underneath. 
 
123 
 
 and a hedge round about us, it were impossible to determine 
 whither in our wanderings we might stray, or in our heights 
 we might fly, or where in our descents we miglit stop. But 
 thanks be to Him who has not only beheld, but pre- 
 served us through many difliculties and dangers hitlierto ! 
 Let us endeavour more and more to cast all our care upon 
 Him, in the unshaken trust, that as we thus strive to please 
 and to serve Him, He will graciously continue to save and 
 to deliver us. 
 
 lOtk. — The above, with very little variation of lan- 
 guage, was intended for thee a month ago : since which 
 some variety of circumstance, and considerable vicissitude 
 of feeling, have enabled me to enter more sensibly than 
 perhaps I could then have done, into that particular state 
 of mind which thou hast described by the expressions 
 " Vision dark — 'Faith weak — Fears many." This surely 
 is the time of Jacob's trouble ; but here again, how are 
 we relieved by a consideration of the Divine attribute of 
 mercy, and supported by the consoling language of Scrip- 
 ture, that even from the time of Jacob's trouble, he shall 
 be saved! (Jerem. xxx. 7-) 
 
 No. 72. To Richard Cockin. 
 
 1820, 1 mo. 11. — For many months past I have been 
 so shut up, or so closely occupied by inward exercise on 
 one account or other, as to render me less communicative 
 than usual, even towards that small circle of beloved cor- 
 respondents, with whom I have been the most accustomed 
 now and then to exchange a letter. This state of my 
 mind has been attended with some fears, indeed it is an 
 occasion of frequent solicitude lest I should fall into a state 
 
 g2 
 
124 
 
 of supineness, or become a negligent occupier of the talent 
 committed to me. 
 
 There are however two circumstances which afford me 
 some relief. One is a full conviction that of ourselves 
 merely, and in our own time and way, we can do very little 
 towards each other's spiritual comfort or benefit, and that 
 therefore when silence is enjoined us, it is the safest for us 
 to abide in it. The other still more encouraging consider- 
 ation is a consciousness that however feeble or suspended 
 the expression of my feelings may have been, still I am not 
 destitute of feeling ; but that on the contrary, for the cri- 
 tical situation of our beloved country, the low state in 
 many respects of our dear religious Society, my own indi- 
 vidual responsibilities as a parent and as a Christian, — for 
 each and all of these, I have according to my capacity or 
 measure, been much concerned. Out of this very concern 
 a hope arises of not being quite insensible or dead, seeing 
 that according to a well-known observation, " whilst there 
 is pain there is life." And if such be the case, though 
 this hidden spark of life should never, from the various 
 weights that oppress it, shine fortli with much effulgence, 
 or rise into great dominion, yet it may possibly emerge in 
 some degree from its present depths of obscurity. Be this 
 as it may, there is one spot whereon, whether the storm 
 makes sailing dangerous or the calm renders it impracti- 
 cable, I seldom cast anchor in vain ; I mean in the endea- 
 vour not to seek great things, either spiritual or temporal, 
 for myself. And yet even here, such is our weakness, and 
 such are the snares that are laid for it, that without the 
 renewed and quickening energy of Divine vsnsdom and 
 power, we may even in the quiet and pleasant harbour of 
 humble resignation itself, become entangled or arrested in 
 
125 
 
 our course, so as to fall short of fighting the good fight of 
 faith, or running with patience the race which heavenly 
 illumination, and that only, can from time to time discover, 
 or in scriptural expression, set before us. 
 
 Under tlie discouragements which the Christian meets 
 with both from within and without, and which I apprehend 
 under one form or another must have been his companion 
 in every age of the church, the discovery of a kindred 
 mind must always have been, as it now is, a very allevi- 
 ating and cheering circumstance ; which more than most 
 other things confirms us in the hope that notwithstanding 
 all that through our declension has befallen us, we are not 
 yet become a people forsaken of their God, but that such 
 among us who truly fear Him are, as their forefathers 
 were, truly precious in his sight, and by the Spirit of his 
 Son, are also like them made dear one unto another. 
 
 How sweetly is the badge of discipleship, to which thou 
 hast alluded, still found to characterize and unite indivi- 
 duals of similar experience, and how cementing its influ- 
 ence, when like a garment of fellowship and a zone of con- 
 cord it pervades and encircles those solemn assemblies, 
 convened it is true for the more immediate services of our 
 own Society, but extending, may it not be hoped, through 
 the medium of this universal love, a salubrious influence 
 to the whole family of mankind ! and here I would just 
 observe, that our Yearly Meetings of later years, and espe- 
 cially at their close, have seemed to me to be remarkably 
 distinguished by the prevalence and circulation of that 
 charity which I have faintly attempted to describe. 
 
126 
 
 No. 73. To Joseph Gurney, 
 
 1820, 1 mo. 22. — We are said to be " creatures of 
 habit;" perhaps it is partly owing to this, having been 
 used to little else, that I feel so much interest for the sup- 
 port and revival of small m^eetiyigs. I forbear to particu- 
 larize, because we have only to look around us, and these 
 instances, like the shades of brighter days, will start up 
 in multitudinous vision ; not however visionary, biit real 
 remnants of once different things. They must entirely fall, 
 unless the rising generation so lay it to heart, as like the 
 Ezras and Nehemiahs of old, to arise and build not only 
 their own houses, but the breaches in the walls and palaces 
 of spiritual Jerusalem. Do not think me desponding. I 
 know the worth of many individuals in very solitary situ- 
 ations. I have also a high opinion of the capacities and 
 resources of my yoimger brethren and sisters ; but I must 
 confess that I long to see, before my departure from this 
 scene of visible things, a more decided dedication of their 
 powers to the service of Him who gave them, and to the 
 support of a Society which, without invidious comparison, 
 I am bold to call, as to its principles, the Jirst in the world ; 
 and were there a more general acting up to these principles 
 by those who profess them, I am also bold to say, the 
 world, though now incredulous, " should know it too." 
 
 I am just now confined pretty much to the house by 
 small ailments, and the severity of the weather. In the 
 latter we have been presented with a phenomenon of 
 changes, extraordinary even in this changeful climate. 
 "Within the last three or four days rapid thaw — intense 
 frost — fair and calm — snowing and blowing — and this day 
 
127 
 
 cold, but beautifully bright and clear ; all this in less time 
 than I ever remember. On fourth-day last, in my way to 
 meeting, I was gratified by the sound, most unusual in a 
 fen, of fine cascades, clear as the water of Helicon, (do not 
 smile as thinking me extravagant,) running from the surface 
 of our pastures, which were too hard beneath to absorb 
 them, into the ditches which make at once our drains and 
 our fences. To-day, the very fields which then were almost 
 a sheet of water, interspersed with some verdure, arc again 
 thickly covered with the white mantle, and from each of 
 my windows I have the prettiest sight of self-made snow- 
 balls, in considerable numbers, that I ever beheld, foi-med by 
 the stormy wind of yesterday, and the peculiar tempera- 
 ture of the air. What a wonderful display is this, and on 
 how magnificent a scale, of the works of Him who is per- 
 fect in wisdom and power ! It may not only remind us 
 of, but illustrate the solemn interrogatories put to poor 
 Job, producing a similar acknowledgment to his. " I 
 know," said he to the Lord, " that Thou canst do every 
 thing : and that no thousiht can be withholden from Thee." 
 
 No. 74. To Jane Gurney. 
 
 1820, 2 mo. 19. — How precious is that unity of spirit 
 which constitutes Christian fellowship ! at a time, too, 
 when many circumstances of ours are so analogous to 
 those of the ancient Jewish Israel, that some in the present 
 day, who are no prophets themselves, can scarcely peruse 
 the records of those who were, without a degree of fearful 
 apprehension. I would not excite needless alarm. I 
 know there is much that is valuable yet left among us, 
 much also of declension, and consequent desolation : I am, 
 
128 
 
 however, no prophet, and I think those who are should be 
 careful in the exercise of their gift. Thou wilt therefore, 
 I hope, preserve an equal mind, endeavouring to wait 
 patiently and resignedly for whatever may be permitted to 
 happen. 
 
 20th. — For some hours this morning I have been intro- 
 duced into such a new communion with t/ou in the love, 
 and fear, and mercy of our God, as equally excites my 
 wonder and my praise ; and it seems as if it would be an 
 act of manifold injustice to withhold the knowledge of it 
 from you. In this situation, so different from what we 
 probably each of us often pass through, I have thought 
 myself the most favoured of men. And why ? Because 
 the most unworthy ! — at least more so than any of my 
 fellow-mortals of whose state I have any knowledge or 
 conception ; and this view of ourselves is sufficient for the 
 purposes of individual humiliation and gratitude. Here 
 W'e may perceive what a privilege it is, that, without con- 
 fusion or interference, thousands may be under all these 
 circumstances at the same moment of time, enjoying the 
 same bounty of their Creator, exercising the same self- 
 abasedness before Him, and offering the same incense of 
 adoration and praise ; or will it be a needless addition by 
 one comprehensive expression to say, trembling and re- 
 joicing in the beams of the Sun of righteousness ? 
 
 Well, in the bonds of this love, in the feeling of this 
 creaturely reduction, and at the foot of this altar, I again 
 bid you affectionately farewell. 
 
129 
 
 No. 75. To Ann Capper. 
 
 1820, 9 mo. 9. — Being on the domestic subject, I am 
 inclined to acquaint thee with an incident which occurred 
 to me lately. At our meeting on fourth-day last, which 
 is usually very small, it so happened that myself, J. R., 
 and L. made up the whole of it ; when a little before 
 the conclusion I thought it safe for me to tell them how 
 much I had been desiring that they, my dear children by 
 nature, might become the Lord's children by adoption ; 
 that so, when we should no longer assemble together as we 
 then did, when I should sleep with my fathers, and be 
 gathered to the house appointed for all living, they might 
 be preserved wherever they go, and blessed in whatsoever 
 they do. On rising from my seat to depart, I found 
 myself so much affected, that, letting my children pass on 
 before me, like one formerly, I almost unconsciously 
 turned my face to the wall, and poured out a secret liba- 
 tion to the God of the spirits of all flesh. 
 
 No. 76. To Sarah Squire. 
 
 1821, 5 mo. 10. — A query has offered itself to ray con- 
 sideration, attended with a willingness to submit it to 
 thine; and this is, whether the time may not be nearly 
 arrived for thee to quit thy hold, in great measure, even 
 on religious friendship, though it may heretofore have been 
 useful to thee, and try to walk by faith alone ; or in other, 
 and perhaps more intelligible expressions, to cease from 
 looking much even towards those whom thou mayst bo 
 ready to view as instructors and fathers, that by thus 
 
 g5 
 
130 
 
 withdrawing tliy attention from everything outward, thou 
 niayst attend more closely and singly to thy own steps. 
 For as spiritual gifts, even gifts in the ministry, are di- 
 verse, and their operation various, though all from the 
 " workings of the same Spirit, dividing to every man seve- 
 rally as He will ; " so, after all the help which, in a state 
 of comparative infancy, we may be permitted to derive from 
 instrumental sources, it is from this Spirit alone that our 
 individual duty can be discovered, and adequate assistance 
 received for the acceptable performance of it. 
 
 I say this, my valued friend, not with the coldness of a 
 critic or the severity of a censor, but, I trust, with the 
 tender solicitude of one who not only remembers well the 
 days of his own childhood, with " the fears and fightings" 
 attendant on his early steps, but who still ofttimes finds 
 abundant cause to query with the apostle, " who is weak, 
 and I am not weak ? " For, alas ! what are the oldest and 
 most knowing of us, but, in common with our younger 
 brethren and sisters, earthen vessels, wherein, through 
 adorable condescension, a divine gift or treasure is de- 
 posited, that " the excellency of the power may be of 
 God, and not of us ? " And as certainly as a vessel is dis- 
 tinct from that which it contains, so certainly are we, as 
 men, distinct from " the new wine of the kingdom," 
 wherewith, for the glory of the Giver, and the good of our 
 fellow-creatures, we may be at times, to our own humbling 
 admiration, alternately emptied and filled. 
 
 If on my own account, no less than on thine, there be 
 at the present juncture one truth that weighs with me 
 more than another, it is tliis — the danger of looking out- 
 ward, and leaning too much to my own understanding, by 
 which I have suffered deeply in days that are past, and 
 
from wliich I am not even yet wlioUy free, thougli I well 
 know that the necessary tendency of such a practice is 
 either to elate or depress the mind too much, and thereby 
 to keep it in a state of fluctuation and instability, unfavour- 
 able for distinctly hearing the still small voice of the true 
 Shepherd. May we, therefore, without lessening our love 
 for the brethren, or neglecting our duty in the church, 
 (for I believe that, though difficult, this is practicable,) 
 cease from all unprofitable dependence either on ourselves 
 or on each other, leaning with increasing confidence on 
 that all-sufficient arm, whereon archangels lean. 
 
 No, 77- To Hannah C. Backhouse. 
 
 1821, 5 mo. 27. — In the silence and solitude of a 
 nocturnal hour, wherein pain would not allow me to rest, 
 and when the waves of mental conflict ran so high, that it 
 almost seemed as if the end of all things were at hand, and 
 that instead of gently descending in peace, I were about to 
 be hurried as by the force of an irresistible cataract, into 
 an unknown world — in the midst of this tumult of 
 distress it occurred to me, that let the probability or the 
 reality of the thing be what it might, I could do nothing 
 to prevent it, and that therefore to resign myself to the 
 event was the only proper alternative. I shortly after got 
 a little sleep, when on awaking such was the change, that 
 I could compare it to notliing so fitly as to that of the lion, 
 who goeth about seeking whom he may devour or betray, 
 (and who, when permitted, probably seldom fails to avail 
 himself of our infirmities, in the season of extraordinary 
 trial or weakness,) being commanded to his den, whereby 
 my mind was restored to such tranquillity, and my faith 
 
132 
 
 and hope were so renewed, that although other pains did 
 not immediately leave me, yet they seemed indeed like 
 those light afflictions, which were not only to be endured, 
 but almost to be enjoyed. 
 
 I mention this to show the benefit of holy resignation, 
 especially in times of the greatest sufi^ering, into which I 
 believe, by the subtlety of our unwearied adversary, tempta- 
 tion is sometimes infused ; hoping that by a knowledge 
 of how it has fared with one, and doubtless with many 
 others of thy brethren and sisters, who are in the world, 
 thou mayst be convinced, that in all thy afflictions, multi- 
 plied and varied as of late they have been, no new thing 
 has happened unto thee. 
 
 Indeed this path of many tribulations, is so far from 
 being a new one, that it seems on the contrary to be the 
 high road, by which, since the fall of Adam, the spiritual 
 traveller has been conducted to happiness and to glory. 
 Accordingly, we cannot read far in the Scriptures without 
 having our attention turned towards it, with suitable 
 instructions, how to conduct ourselves, and journey forward 
 therein. Of these directions, the leading one seems to be, 
 a resigning all that we have, and all that we are, — our 
 own lives not excepted — into the hand of Him who gave 
 us them all. 
 
 It appears, even at this time of the day, little short of 
 marvellous to me when I consider, or rather when I feel, 
 how many baptisms are necessary, not only to bring many 
 of us to this point of entire surrender, but to keep us there, 
 so that in the simplicity of little children, and in foolish- 
 ness to our own wisdom, we may be willing to follow the 
 Lamb whithersoever He leadeth, into doing, suffering, or 
 rejoicing. And however difficult or impossible this attain- 
 
133 
 
 ment may be, by the exertion of merely human powers, 
 yet as we set it up for our mark, keep it constantly iu 
 view, pray for it, and press after it, I trust we shall receive 
 adequate assistance in every needful time, and that ulti- 
 mately we shall be made more than conquerors through 
 Him that hath loved us ; — for the Lamb and his followers 
 shall have the victory. 
 
 I hope there is not a word in this letter that can be con- 
 strued into discouragement, or that can make the way of 
 truth appear a hard or a gloomy one : this would indeed 
 be very foreign to my intention. The ways of the Lord 
 still remain to be pleasantness, and his paths peace to the 
 obedient soul ; and though many and diversified may be 
 the trials of the righteous, yet surely deliverance out of 
 them all is ample compensation even in this life, to say 
 nothing of the glory which shall hereafter be revealed. 
 
 If it may tend more unequivocally to show that to im- 
 part strength and comfort, without any mixture of alloy, is 
 the only motive for my thus greeting thee, suffer me to 
 turn thy attention to the following texts, by which I have 
 sometimes been consoled and refreshed. " Though I walk 
 in the midst of trouble. Thou wilt revive me." " In the 
 multitude of my thoughts within me, thy comforts delight 
 my soul." " Why art thou cast down, 0 my soul ! and 
 why art thou disquieted within me ? Hope in God, for I 
 shall yet praise Him, who is the health of my counte- 
 nance and my God." 
 
 Desiring that the holy arm of our Heavenly Father 
 may be underneath as thy unfailing support, I remain thy 
 sincerely affectionate friend. 
 
134 
 
 No. 78. To Sarah Scitjire. 
 
 1821, 7 '>no. 1. — Notwithstanding what I have said in a 
 former letter, about being weaned from too much reliance 
 on the aids of friendship, yet I am too well acquainted 
 with their value to despise them, having often through 
 them received both instruction and encouragement : and I 
 believe that now, as formerly, it is acceptable in the sight 
 of our gracious Creator, that such as fear Him should 
 occasionally converse, and otherwise commune together. 
 Yet there are times, wherein, as respects the church or our 
 families, we clearly perceive that unless the Lord build the 
 city, they labour in vain who build it ; and at other sea- 
 sons we anxiously feel concerning ourselves, that if the 
 Lord help us not as our Preserver under trial, and as our 
 Guide in the path of duty — if in botli cases, He help us 
 not, vain indeed is the help of man. And as this experience 
 rather increases than weakens our fellow-feeling for human 
 infirmity, I believe we must do as well as we can, as to 
 the expression of it. When we are inclined and enabled 
 to do so, let ns not withhold more than is meet ; and 
 when silence seems imposed both on tongue and pen, let 
 us submit to the humiliation. 
 
 No. 79. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1821, 7 mo. 20. — " From the uttermost part of the earth 
 have we heard songs, even glory to the righteous ; but I 
 said, My leanness, my leanness, woe unto me !" &c. This 
 portion of Scripture has been raised in my remembrance 
 
135 
 
 by the comfortable account thou hast given me of certain 
 Quarterly Meetings, followed by the inquiry, How we fared 
 in Lincolnshire ? Wilt thou accept both as a general and 
 individual answer, Quite as well as we deserved, though 
 perhaps not so richly as some of us, when patience is ready 
 to fail, may desire. But as thou bast well observed, it 
 ought to revive us to hear the sound of such things ; and 
 it really is cheering to hearts not dead to joy, though not 
 very prone to rejoice, to receive glad tidings of good from 
 any quarter or any cause. 
 
 I am " resettled," after considerable wandering, at 
 peaceful Gedney, which truly deserves thy epithet of 
 peaceful, whatever mental causes may prevent or interrupt 
 its proffered quiet. I am, however, pleased, and I think 
 at times thankful for having a lodge in this wilderness — 
 alias, in these fens of Lincolnshire, where I can rest a 
 weary head and faint heart, especially on distinguished 
 occasions of illumination nights and coronation days ; and 
 I perhaps never enjoyed this privilege more than at the 
 present juncture, from having just heard of the dissipa- 
 tion which prevailed at a neighbouring town yesterday, 
 where, as may be apprehended of many other places and 
 circumstances, earthly glory was tarnished by almost every 
 species of vice. 
 
 No. 80. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1821, 10 mo. 1. — As it comes in easily, without study 
 or constraint, I will just give tliee my objection, in few 
 words, to a practice which I fear prevails too much in 
 circles with wliich thou art familiar, and wherein I am 
 sometimes allowed to peep : I mean that of perverting and 
 
136 
 
 confounding language, as in the case of substituting the 
 'ViorA proud ioT pleased. I always dislike it ; but when I 
 hear it from those who ought to know better, I am grieved, 
 my zeal is kindled, and I am almost angry, yet I hope 
 without sin. Were I as bold with the tongue as the pen, 
 I could freely tell them that all pride is of the devil, 
 therefore let him take his own, for what have Christians to 
 do either with him or his works ? If what they say be 
 true, they ought to be ashamed rather than boasting ; and 
 if it be not true, they are then adding the sin of falsehood 
 to a habit of absurdity. Am I not very warm ? 
 
 Thou art surely enough acquainted with Gedney to 
 know, that as it respects meetings and the residence of 
 Friends, it is solitary, and situated on a kind of isthmus, 
 with the sea on the E. and N. E. ; whilst on the S. W. 
 towards Northampton and Rutland, there lies a consi- 
 derable tract of country, over which we, as a religious 
 society, are probably but little known. Thus circum- 
 stanced, it happens that, in passing from S. to N., or in 
 the opposite course, more of our friends on Gospel mis- 
 sions call upon us than might else be the case, whilst 
 others of them, from mere kindness perhaps, pitying our 
 loneliness, come purposely to visit us. As we have neither 
 rocks nor mountains, woods nor waterfalls, hot springs 
 nor scarcely cold ones, it might seem surprising that 
 such company should rather increase upon us : perhaps 
 by the aid of a little superstition, it might be considered 
 in one way portentous : — that my dear friends, some of 
 them at least, thinking it probable that they might not 
 find me much longer at the place which has long known 
 me, have had a mind to take another look, possibly a 
 farewell. Well, be it so ; for as the solemn prospect rather 
 
137 
 
 calms than disquiets my spirit, I cannot deem it inauspi- 
 cious, and am therefore more disposed to hail than to shun 
 the omen. 
 
 Shouldst thou inquire why, seeing I am surrounded and 
 supported by children whom, without unreasonable par- 
 tiality, I perhaps may be allowed to consider at par, and 
 favoured with friends who, there is good ground for be- 
 lieving, are much above it, why then, mayst thou ask, 
 should I appear so indifferent, not to say weary of life ? 
 The first part of my answer must be taken from that por- 
 tion of myself which I hope to put off with mortality, and 
 for the rest consult the preacher Solomon, in his Ecclesi- 
 astes ; read also, if thou think it worth while, an excellent 
 poem by Samuel Johnson, entitled, " The Vanity of Hu- 
 man Wishes and one, in my opinion, not less merito- 
 rious, in a little volume of verses by Jane Taylor, to which 
 she has given the name of " Experience." And should 
 books fail to show thee, thou must wait until time and its 
 revolutions shall demonstrably prove, and this I think 
 they cannot fail to do, both the reasonableness and the 
 propriety of my not only waiting, but sometimes looking, 
 — may it be with patience and resignation ! — for the last 
 and greatest change. 
 
 By indulging in a strain so serious, I am far from 
 meaning to put thee out of love with life, or its legitimate 
 concerns, nor even with such of its enjoyments as are 
 suitable to thy age and circumstances. At the same time, 
 I am not willing to think myself so injudicious as the 
 world in its wisdom might deem me, for thus introducing a 
 grave subject, even to one who, although in the prime of 
 his days, is somewhat relaxed both in health and in nerve ; 
 for my opinion is, that a near and frequent view of what it 
 
138 
 
 concerns us the most to know, the ground we really occupy 
 in our present state of existence, cannot possibly hurt us ; 
 but rather, as is said of Boreas and tlie oak, whilst it 
 shakes the branches it will strengthen the root, making 
 the arms more strong and sturdy, though it may lower its 
 towering head. • 
 
 No. 81. To H. C. Backhouse. 
 
 J 821, 12 mo. 29. — Strange as it may seem, this word 
 metaphysical, by the retrospect into which it sometimes 
 leads, occasionally affects me deeply. Of this the follow- 
 ing soliloquy, the companion of my wakeful hours on the 
 night after receiving thy letter, may serve as an illustra- 
 tion and a proof. And I hope that, without harm to 
 either of us, I may in freedom and confidence impart these 
 reflections of my own mind pretty much in their original 
 form : — 
 
 " O vain and delusive science, (if science we may deno- 
 minate a philosophy falsely so called,) how much of sin 
 and sorrow hast thou cost me ! How shall I so delineate 
 thy character and features, that others beholding, may 
 take heed of thy snares ? Shall I call thee a restless and 
 fathomless ocean, or a mass of heterogenous materials ? 
 or wilt thou be better known and more avoided in the 
 unsightly form of a paradox of unnatural combinations 
 and contradictions, at once a chaos of darkness and a 
 meteor of bewildering light, no less fatal and disastrous ? 
 Ah ! whither didst thou once misguide, and where wouldst 
 tliou have left thy unhappy victim had not that arm been 
 made bare, which, imder the strongest expressions iind the 
 boldest figures, the Scripture represents as the deliverer of 
 
139 
 
 man from his most subtle and powerful enemies ! May 
 my poor soul never forget the hour — for in less than one 
 solitary hour (being quite alone) was effected my escape 
 from these labyrinths of confusion and shame ! " 
 
 Thus, or nearly thus, am I led to soliloquize on meta- 
 physics ; but it is a portion of my mental history which I 
 do not wish to be generally known, at least not iintil my 
 own state of warfare is fully accomplished ; yet, if at any 
 time in the course of a life which, for many valuable pur- 
 poses, I hope may be prolonged beyond the date of mine, 
 thou shouldst think the knowledge of such a case might 
 help a poor traveller, faint and astray, thou art at liberty 
 to make thy own use of it. Such characters are now and 
 then to be met with, though I do not think the sins of 
 thought are among the most prominent ones of our day. 
 The multitude seem to prefer floating like bubbles down 
 the stream of time. They have certainly a much easier, 
 and, religion apart, perhaps as wise a course, as both will 
 probably end in the same sad disappointment. 
 
 Still I think thy mathematical mind (for, if I too may 
 guess, such was its bias) made a better election than mine 
 of the subject of its youthful inquiries, inasmuch as shore, 
 however sandy, is more stable than the fluctuating wave. 
 But the shore even of the soundest philosophy is too 
 yielding for the support of eternal foundations, as we have 
 the authority of the lip of truth, confirmed by the history 
 of all ages, for believing. By these testimonies, as well 
 as by that which almost daily occurrence presents to our 
 view, it may be seen that no attainments merely human 
 are able to preserve their possessors from danger or from 
 ruin. No, this preservation is only to be found upon that 
 rock to which thou hast very appropriately alluded. This 
 
140 
 
 rock, as saith the apostle, is Christ, against which neither 
 the allurements of calm and of sunshine, nor the terrors 
 of storm and of tempest shall be able to prevail. 
 
 31st. — I would now refer you at leisure to Cowper's 
 " Truth," wherein may be found a fine contrast between 
 Voltaire and a peasant ; also to that sweet little piece of 
 Beattie's, called " The Hermit," and to a few weighty 
 lines iji " J. G. Bevan's Letters," &c., at page 267, 
 beginning with 
 
 " Let the bright beams of science shed." 
 
 My view in thus sending you about, is for corroboration 
 of such parts of this sheet as may be considered an attempt 
 at exalting pure unsophisticated Christianity, such as 
 we find it in our Bibles and in our hearts, above all the 
 wit and wisdom, systems and inventions, of fallen and 
 helpless man. Of his state by nature not many have a 
 lower, perhaps few so low, an apprehension as myself. 
 This apprehension, I think, is supported in fact, by his 
 ignorance, his follies, and his crimes ; and in argument, 
 by scriptural passages innumerable, together forming a 
 conclusion which to me appears invincible, that without a 
 Redeemer, of all the tribes of animated being which in- 
 habit this earth, the human race is beyond comparison the 
 most miserable. 
 
 No. 82. To Sarah Squire. 
 
 1822, 2 mo. 4. — I am not surprised that in the midst 
 of so much conflict thy agitated mind should desire greater 
 atayedness, and frequently sigh for a little repose. To ob- 
 tain this, I would, as the result of my own repeated expe- 
 
141 
 
 rience, recommend as much stillness as possible. And a,s 
 stillness is more of a passive than an active nature, it is to 
 be sought rather by yielding to than opposing the storm, 
 suspending all, even our best thoughts ; and in this help- 
 less, and peradventure almost hopeless condition, commit- 
 ting ourselves to the God of our lives, with whom, and his 
 dear Son Christ Jesus, alone, the power remains of saving 
 to the uttermost, those who thus resign themselves and 
 their all to such adverse circumstances and events, as in 
 his inscrutable wisdom He may permit to attend them in 
 their earthly pilgrimage. 
 
 In the course of a life not exempted from trial, I have 
 repeatedly found this passive submission to be all that I 
 could do ; the only safe and proper alternative on which 
 everything else has seemed to depend. And in fleeing to 
 this last resort, I have scarcely ever been disappointed in 
 finding shelter from the present distress ; and at the 
 future, thou knowest we are recommended not too anx- 
 iously to look. 
 
 Poor Jonah had to remain three days and three niglits 
 in the belly of the fish, while the waves and the billows 
 passed over him. And I have thought that the account 
 of Paul's dangerous voyage may afford instruction and 
 encouragement to the tossed mind. In his case it is worthy 
 of remark, that even after he had been assured by an angel, 
 that not only his own life, but the lives of thoge who were 
 with him should be spared ; yet after this how closely 
 must his faith have been tried, by what occurred previously 
 to their being finally cast upon the island of Melita ! The 
 soldiers wanted to kill the prisoners — they had also to 
 throw the precious wheat, comparable to the sustaining 
 faith and hope of a Christian, into the sea ; and at last 
 
142 
 
 were not delivered but through the terror and danger of 
 complete shipwreck. 
 
 It is sometimes said to be an easy thing to give advice ; 
 but I find it neither an easy nor a trifling thing thus to 
 address a dear friend in her affliction, I have felt for her 
 all that I say, and much tliat I cannot say ; and may the 
 Lord, if consistent with his holy will, bless these my ex- 
 ercises to her strength and comfort. 
 
 No. 83. To J. J. GURNEY. ' 
 
 1822, 3 mo. 30. — What shall I say ? Boasting, we know, 
 is excluded, and despondency, as thou hast well observed, 
 with so much to encourage us, were equally wrong. Being 
 very fond of a medium when I can find one, and as that, 
 which if I can make it intelligible, may come nearest the 
 truth, I must then tell thee, that in my case, as perhaps in 
 thine and many others, the winter has sometimes been 
 cheerly, at others dreary. Time has passed now and then 
 sweetly, at other seasons sadly — swiftly or slowly along — 
 probably in part according to the diversity of causes in 
 constant and successive operation upon the physical and 
 mental temperament of i)oor, very poor creatures ; placed 
 in a state wherein perhaps every possible cliange is a 
 trial, causing some of them deeply to feel — would it were 
 the case with all ! — the great need of a Redeemer, even 
 to the full extent of the pathetic and fervent exclamation, 
 " A Saviour, or I die — a Redeemer, or I perish for ever." 
 But even when brought into these depths, and deeper we can 
 scarcely go, there is yet no legitimate cause for despair ; — 
 there is still, blessed be the Lord, a door of escape for us. 
 Help is laid upon One that is mighty, even upon One who 
 
143 
 
 is able to save, and that to the very uttermost, those who 
 come unto God by Him. 
 
 But the time for singinof of birds, as to the outward at 
 least, being come, it seems almost natural for those who 
 can stir, whether old or young, to look around them, and 
 see if there is no part of the general business in wliich 
 they may take a share. 
 
 As the hyssop on the wall, in common with tliQ sprightly 
 fir or loftier cedar, contributes to the beauty of nature, so 
 the owl as well as the nightingale, the linnet, and the lark, 
 the harsh bray of the ass, the terrific roar of the lion, and 
 the tender bleating of the lamb, all unite in harmony, 
 all proclaim to ears that can hear them, their great Crea- 
 tor's praise. I cannot tell which, but doubtless it is either 
 my weakness or my fault, that, with so much opportunity 
 and invitation, I am in general so little qualified to read 
 and contemplate, as I think I ought, this divinely interest- 
 ing volume of nature. I will however try to be thankful 
 that I am not quite deaf to its instructions, or blind to its 
 charms. Of this I had a renewed and pleasing hope, 
 whilst " meditating at eventide," in a solitary walk, very 
 lately, when, every storm being hushed, every sight was 
 lovely, and every sound a song. 
 
 Shall I conceal from thee, that there is another voice 
 which, if I mistake it not, just now comforts and supports 
 my often drooping, I hope never entirely desponding, mind, 
 more than any outwardly visible or audible thing : — this is 
 the secret hope that it may be right for me to endeavour to 
 attend our coming Yearly Meeting, an inclination which 
 I believe thou wilt not mistake me if I say, rather increases 
 than otherwise, by the probability of thyself, perhaps thy 
 dear uncle, and many others being prevented. We should 
 
144 
 
 I think he found at our post so long as ability of diflferent 
 kinds is afforded. When this is suspended, or as must 
 ultimately happen, shall entirely fail, may we, may every 
 Christian combatant, whether reclining in weakness or 
 departing in death, seek and find repose, not with the 
 outward and carnal soldier iipon the bed of worldly honour, 
 but in a situation far more dignified and appropriate, at 
 his once crucified, now glorified. Lord and Master's feet. 
 
 No. 84. To H. C. Backhouse. 
 
 1822, 4 mo. 22. — Of the relationship peculiar to a spiritual 
 dispensation, and of the love which is at once its basis and 
 its preservation, how much might be said ! and yet to 
 those who are really brought into it, and who participate 
 in ever so small a degree of its benefits and its blessings, 
 how little is sufi&cient ! Treating on the love just alluded 
 to in one of thy letters, thou made use of two expressions, 
 that to me seemed peculiarly appropriate, as tending to 
 show that this disposition was not natural, but divine ; and 
 I might have introduced these very words, in my attempt 
 to prove the distinctness of Christian principle from every 
 human attainment, and its superiority over every other 
 possession of the mind. 
 
 Not that I wish, any more than thyself, to despise learn- 
 ing or decry philosophy. They have, as thou has stated, 
 their beauties and their excellencies, and may I think 
 be made usefully subservient to religion. But they are too 
 seldom willing, either to seek or to keep their places as her 
 handmaids ; and all that I want is to strip the first of its 
 conceit, and the last of its presumption, persuading both 
 with a philosophy, " true and baptized," to bend the stub- 
 
145 
 
 bora knee and lower the towering head, before that foot- 
 stool at which I am sometimes led to believe all our hopes 
 and our fears, our joys and our sorrows, our crosses and 
 our crowns, should be humbly and devoutly cast. 
 
 I believe I was somewhat more than pleased by thy 
 remarks, on the various manner in which the spiritual 
 leaven operates, according to their nature, upon the different 
 lumps subjected to its refining and forming power : it is 
 indeed marvellous, perhaps incredible, to human wisdom ; 
 and yet I believe that to the anointed eye of Christian faith 
 and experience, it is pretty evident that such is the case. 
 By this wonderful process it is that the different vessels of 
 the spiritual house, or, in other words, the different mem- 
 bers of the church or body of Christ are formed ; distinct 
 as the hand and the foot, the ear and the eye, or any other 
 parts of the animal frame : like these, unable to copy each 
 other, or take each other's office ; and yet like them, all 
 necessary to the well-being of that body whereof they are 
 members ; and although agreeably to thy idea there is no 
 room for imitation, there is much indeed for sympathy : — 
 so much so that if one member suffer, all the members suffer 
 with it ; and if one member be honoured all the members 
 rejoice with it. What beauty, what order, what harmony 
 in a church thus constituted, thus compacted by that which 
 every joint supplieth, and thus growing up in all things in- 
 to its head, even Christ ! — and for what end ? for the edify- 
 ing of itself in love. Here we may see the scale of gradation, 
 leading to what thou hast called the sum of the whole 
 matter — Love. And surely no principle is so much cal- 
 culated to assist, to calm, and to console us. How sweet 
 are the very names of the comfort and peace, which, as 
 streams from their fountain, flow from it ! And perhaps 
 
 H 
 
146 
 
 hence it was that the compassionate Redeemer made such 
 free use of these expressions, when He wanted to refresh 
 and to strengtlien his fainting disciples under their trying 
 prospect of his being about to leave them — " comfort and 
 peace," " rest to our souls :" more rapturous enjoyments 
 the militant church, with all its infirmities, has little cause 
 to covet, whilst of those she stands every day in need. 
 
 Thou knowest the feelings of the natural parent towards 
 those who, under Providence, have derived their being from 
 us : we seem in them to live again. For these we have 
 not only pleasures, but cares : not only hopes, but fears : 
 not only sweet endearment and consolation to receive from 
 them ; but anxious, sometimes painful, duties to perform 
 for their sakes. Thus probably it may also be with those 
 who make any approach towards the character of fathers 
 and mothers in the church. They are anxious not to 
 neglect by indifi'erence, not to spoil by indulgence ; not 
 willingly to grieve or disappoint such as may be looking 
 towards them, and as it were asking bread at their hands ; 
 remembering the fearful situation of those who shall offend 
 one of the little ones that believe in Christ. If these 
 solicitudes arc free from selfishness ; though it perhaps is 
 diflScult to say what is entirely so ; and I really am so 
 little of a moralizer as sincerely, I hope, to despise myself, 
 as a very selfish being ; — yet in so far as the dispositions 
 and feelings just hinted at may carry any semblance of 
 disinterestedness, I will not disclaim them, leaving any- 
 thing further, either about myself, or my dear friends, 
 whom I am now addressing, where everything ought to 
 be left. 
 
1-47 
 
 No. 85. To II. C. Backhouse. 
 
 1822, ^mo. 21. — I am inclined to offer thee the best, 
 indeed .all that I possess, my tenderest and most affection- 
 ate sympathy ; and though this may be all that we have 
 in many cases to bestow, — for what is gold ? — I have 
 hoped, that in the breast of a believer in Christ, sympathy 
 is neither a despicable nor an unavailing thing. 
 
 I have long apprehended, what perhaps every one ac- 
 quainted with its influence well knows, that the sympathy 
 here alluded to is the offspring of love ; but I had not 
 been so fully aware, as of late, when brought under its 
 fresh and frequent excitement, how much it is also the pa- 
 rent of supplication. Under its humbling and powerful 
 impulse, we lead our sorrowing brethren and sisters to the 
 last refuge of affliction, to the footstool of mercy ; and 
 there, placing ourselves by their side, we assist them in 
 prayer, we pray for them with a fervency, too, not less 
 than that which pervades and possesses us, when petition- 
 ing for the salvation of our own souls. Now, though this 
 observation, — so slow is my progress, — has escaped me till 
 grey hairs, docs it not harmonize with the spirit of the 
 Gospel, and does it not agree with loving one another as 
 ourselves ? If one is really felt, is it surprising that the 
 other — prayer, — should follow ? 
 
 No. 86. To H. C. Backhouse, 
 
 1822, 8 mo. 31. — I still indulge a hope that Christian 
 perfection itself remains to be as lovely in my eyes as ever, 
 and so attractive, that under all repulses and drawbacks, I 
 
 H 2 
 
148 
 
 cannot help feebly — alas ! that it should be so feebly ! — 
 pressing after it ; with what success is known only to that 
 Being who seeth not as man seeth, and whose thoughts 
 being higher than our thoughts, and his ways higher than 
 our ways, judgeth us, as we have cause to believe, by a 
 very different rule to that by which we measure ourselves 
 and one another. 
 
 How far advanced on the scale of the perfection just 
 hinted at was the dignified apostle of the Gentiles ! This, 
 notwithstanding the humble views he gives us of his own 
 apprehended attainments, is evident from the acknowledg- 
 ments which truth, and a desire to edify others, sometimes 
 extorted, as it were, from his lips or his pen. In 2 
 Cor. xi. 23 — 28, after recapitulating the almost unpa- 
 ralleled sufferings and dangers that attended his Christian 
 course, we find him making this important and striking 
 addition, " Beside those things that are without, that 
 which cometh upon me daily, the care of all the 
 churches." 
 
 Whether we view the apostle Paul's character by parts, 
 or as a whole, we can scarcely refrain from an astonish- 
 ment attended with this peculiarity, that however surprised, 
 we are neither offended nor dismayed : on the contrary, 
 we seem so united to him by affection, admiration and 
 sympathy, as almost to feel ourselves in his company ; at 
 least we return from our meditation with renewed desire 
 to run like him with patience the race set before us, and 
 to be found with him in the footsteps of the flock of 
 Christ's companions. 
 
 I really felt, and still feel, affected by the perusal of the 
 intimate exposure of thy sufferings, bodily and mental, 
 which thou hast laid before me, and I perhaps feel the 
 
149 
 
 more sensibly on this point, from the lively recollection 
 thereby excited of things which, under various circum- 
 stances and at different periods of my life, I have also 
 suffered ; especially of that v^^hich appears to have been a 
 grievous annoyance to the heaven-bound traveller, in an- 
 cient as well as in the present times, that " when we would 
 do good, evil is present with us." 
 
 Perhaps there are few of our spiritual trials more per- 
 plexing than this, which may account for the memorable 
 exclamation, " O wretched man that I am," &c. ; and 
 when accompanied by reduction from other causes, it must 
 have an additional tendency to keep us weak and low, 
 which may very possibly be the design of him who thus 
 assails by his darts, and seeks to overwhelm us by his floods. 
 For I believe it is an old trick of this our adversary to place 
 evil before some minds at such times and in such a way, as 
 that he may more easily succeed in another of his deepest 
 devices, by persuading them that they have in thought at 
 least joined with some of his temptations, thougli from the 
 very bottom of their souls they feel the deepest abhorrence 
 of them all. But as one of our early friends has well ob- 
 served, though these things may be called our temptations 
 or buffetings, yet they are the sins of the enemy and not 
 ours, as he would falsely insinuate ; and we may therefore 
 return them to whom they belong, endeavouring at the 
 same time to be as quiet as we can ; and thus in due time 
 we may find, as I trust thou hast repeatedly found to thy 
 comfort, that " when the enemy comes in like a flood, the 
 Spirit of the Lord lifts up a standard against him." 
 
 In the early part of my own life I was dreadfully 
 harassed by evil suggestions, involuntarily excited in my 
 mind, and charged upon me as sins ; and being in a state 
 
150 
 
 of unbelief and disobedience, instead of being faithful and 
 submissive to that which could only have wrought iny deli- 
 verance, what I suffered in these conflicts is indescribable ; 
 and so artful was the author of them, that they were of a 
 character which I could not disclose. I was therefore 
 almost distracted, and concluded that there was not such 
 another case in the world as mine. How far this might 
 be I cannot tell, though it is probable that it also was 
 false, and intended to finish the business of driving me to 
 despair ; for ever since I became more willing to make the 
 best use of my afflictions, either by endeavouring to bear 
 them patiently, or by seeking and accepting a hand of 
 help, I have seldom met with a trial that has not its 
 parallel in the experiences of others ; leading me to con- 
 clude that no new thing has happened to me ; and that 
 accordino- to the consolino- lanouage of 1 Cor. x. 13, no 
 temptation has taken me but such as is common to man. 
 
 I am aware that self is a dangerous enemy, and requires 
 much watching against ; but as in our speculations we are 
 very prone to push even good things too far, I am not 
 quite certain that we do not in this way sometimes refine 
 too much upon what we call self-love, and for fear of in- 
 dulging it improperly, really refuse or pass by the comfort, 
 help, and strength which are mercifully designed us. The 
 being commanded to love others as ourselves, appears to 
 be so far from precluding a necessary care for our own pre- 
 servation and happiness, that the manner in which it is 
 supposed we shall, and the degree in which it is allowed 
 we may, love ourselves, seem not only to be recognized by 
 this simple and sublime precept, but to be made the stand- 
 ard and criterion of our feelings, and of our behaviour to- 
 wards others. And surely as it is lawful for a drowning 
 
151 
 
 man to use means for his deliverance, so surely do I be- 
 lieve that it is not only allowable, but a duty for the 
 sinking mind to accept, with gratitude to its great Pre- 
 server, any of the various means which He may be pleased 
 to offer for its assistance, amongst which the records and 
 communications of those who have travelled, or who are 
 travelling the same path, may form no inconsiderable part. 
 Witness in this respect the incalculable value of the Holy 
 Scriptures, as well as the oral and written testimonies even 
 of our cotemporaries. 
 
 We have a chain of evidence, and a cloud of witnesses, 
 male and female, old and young, high and low, learned 
 and unlearned, all testifying to a truth, from which it 
 seems equally difficult to withhold our assent, or refuse to 
 accept consolation, that in all our baptisms and exercises 
 no new thing has happened to us. 
 
 No. 87. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1822, 11 mo. 8. — It may not be always easy for the 
 Christian to resemble what I think is fabled of the night- 
 ingale — sing with his breast upon the thorn which presses 
 it ; nor may it be much more easy for him to sing the 
 songs of Zion in a strange land ; and yet, though difficult, 
 I have thought these things, or things comparable to them, 
 may not be impossible. All things, it is said, are possible 
 to him that believeth. May it not therefore be possible 
 for the believer to sing the sweetest of all melodies, the 
 song of resignation, in the hour of adversity and trial ? 
 May it not be possible for him to take down the harp from 
 the willows, and contrasting the goodness and mercy which 
 have followed him all his life long, with his own imbecility 
 
152 
 
 and unworthiness, chant the praises of his Preserver and 
 Redeemer beside the proud waters of Babylon — even 
 though her swelling waves, many in number and mighty 
 in strength, should despise his himible and solitary 
 strain ? 
 
 A saying of the psalmist, when addressing the Most 
 High, " In the multitude of my thoughts •R-ithin me," — and 
 alas ! what are merely human thoughts ! — " thy comforts 
 delight my soul ;" and the experience of one less distin- 
 guished under trials, (avoiding the stronger term, conflicts,) 
 which he has lately passed, or is now passing, convince him 
 of the possibility of ofl'ering the sacrifices of prayer or 
 praise, even in the face of opposition and discouragement. 
 Yes ! there are resting-places for the Lord's children and 
 servants, though they may at times but resemble a " sunny 
 island in a stormy main," or " a spot of azure in a cloudy 
 sky." And at other seasons, when comfort seems to stand 
 afar off, and has been long and vainly sought, we at 
 lenfjth find it connected with the remembrance of some 
 beloved and absent friend. Indeed, this having been my 
 case within the last few days, when thinking of thee, is 
 the present inducement for taking up my pen. O that the 
 gracious Beincr, ^vho even whilst inhabitants of this vale 
 of tears, has brought us to some knowledge of Himself, of 
 ourselves, and of each other, may so enable us to walk be- 
 fore Him with acceptance during the remainder of our 
 stay in it, as that we may ultimately receive in a better 
 world, in such mode and degree as may be consistent with 
 his holy will, a full consummation of that happiness, 
 whereof, though most undeserving. He has given us an 
 earnest and a foretaste here below ! 
 
 I think thou canst believe that I do not thus express 
 
153 
 
 myself, from either the constant or the very frequent re- 
 dundancy of heavenly good ; but being at the present 
 period more disposed to gratitude than to complaint, or 
 even to silence, I am inclined to invite thee, my dear friend, 
 to join me, if it be but as for a moment, in commemorating 
 the Lord's gracious dealings with our souls, that thus we 
 may exalt his name together. For though to our dim sight 
 and limited views, the number of such as are thus disposed 
 to praise Him is either few or little known to each other, 
 there seems the louder call upon tliose whose liearts may 
 be quickened and united therein, to be diligent wlien ability 
 is aftbrded, in the discharge of this sweet and sacred obli- 
 gation, though in so doing they have no more to glory in 
 than had the apostle, who declared that necessity was laid 
 upon him, yea, that woe was unto him, if he preached not 
 the Gospel. 
 
 No. 88. To n. C. Backhouse. 
 
 1822, 12 mo. 28. — One of my most interesting medita- 
 tions of late has been the unworthiness of man, contrasted 
 with tlie mercy of his Creator, especially in that most de- 
 lightful and all-important point, the forgiveness of sins ; a 
 theme at once so simple and so sublime, so brief in de- 
 scription, yet so inexhaustible in its nature, so adapted to 
 a " worm," and to " God," that whenever a little capa- 
 city for indulging it is granted, I think we need not be 
 afraid of the result, which I suppose will generally be 
 shame and confusion to ourselves ; and glory where it is, 
 and where it can only be due. Under some little renewed 
 sense of these things, can we not, my dear friend, unite in 
 the language, — thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift, 
 
 II 5 
 
and for all his other countless mercies, both in nature and 
 in grace ? 
 
 No. 89. To H. C. Backhouse. 
 
 ]823, 1 mo. 17. — With thee I know what it is to re- 
 turn low and depressed, even from meeting ; nor am I a 
 stranger to those disquieting doubts and fears which are 
 such close trials of our faith. Whilst to be as humble as I 
 ought, when things go the best with me ; and as patient as 
 I should be in the hour of adversity, simple and self-evi- 
 dent as the justice of these propositions is. I have always 
 found to be amongst the hardest practical lessons of the 
 Christian school. In the first case it is difficult to keep 
 our feet ; and in the last, not much less so to hold up our 
 heads. Perhaps there are few things more likely than the 
 knowledge, that this sort of experience runs more parallel 
 in different subjects than we might suppose, to enable 
 individuals really to sympathize with each other ; imder 
 which expression I now include the entering into each 
 other s spiritual concerns, and breathing for one another's 
 welfare and preservation in the way of holiness and peace : 
 and to trace the lines of the reciprocal experience here al- 
 luded to, may possibly constitute one of the purposes of 
 that sort of religious intercourse which, in a very interest- 
 ing chapter of the Bible, is called speaking often one to 
 another. (Malachi, iii.) 
 
 The time with me has now arrived wherein many of 
 my temporal prospects are closed, and others seem to be so 
 fast closing, that in respect of many circumstances of high 
 and allowable satisfaction in their time and place, it might 
 almost be said, " I rejoice not ;" and though I may not al- 
 
155 
 
 ways be able, perhaps few have this constant assurance, 
 " rather to rejoice that my name is written in heaven," I 
 think I could nevertheless rejoice, and that with joy un- 
 speakable, " to wake and find me" in the lowest mansion 
 there ; and yet however we may desire this glorious and 
 unmerited exchange, (for all is of mercy,) from probation 
 to unalloyed fruition, we must not be too selfish. We 
 ought to consider those to whom our continuance even in 
 this valley of humiliation may be either pleasant or ser- 
 viceable ; and we ought especially to endeavour to wait 
 with patience tlie Lord's time for releasing us. I hope I 
 am thus striving to wait, though it must be acknowledged 
 attended by certain longings wliich I cannot at all times 
 suppress ; even now gently conflicting emotions produce a 
 tenderness which I am thankful to find is neither bitter 
 nor painful. I should scarcely, however, have dared to be 
 so explicit on so solemn a subject, did I not rely upon thy 
 candour, and at the same time recollect the case of an 
 apostle, as described, (Phil. i. 23:) " I am in a strait 
 betwixt two, having a desire to depart and to be with 
 Christ, which is far better." 
 
 No. 90. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1823, 1 mo. 28.— Thy letter of the 13th was truly wel- 
 come to me in cheering this solitude, and breaking, with- 
 out disturbance, the stillness of which I have a considera- 
 ble portion ; and, as it seems, thy mind had depicted not 
 a very small part of both, sitting in my chair. 
 
 To seclusion I was horn, down a lane with which thou 
 art acquainted, and having now passed more than half a 
 
156 
 
 century in it, I am very much reconciled to this part of 
 my lot ; and as to stillness, though contentment in it may 
 be in some sort constitutional, yet I believe it is much 
 more owing to certain turns and circumstances in my life, 
 some leading and others driving me to seek in quietude a 
 refuge from myself, from the enemy, and from the world. 
 From myself, I say, because from this quarter I have liad 
 much trouble, and from other causes, some together leaving 
 me at times but just in possession of life and reason. But 
 in the depth of m.y extremity, I have again and again, in 
 unutterable mercy, had quietness offered me, as a shelter 
 and a refuge ; so that I have much cause to speak well, 
 and none to complain, of a state which I know by many 
 would be called insipid and dreary. 
 
 I noticed thy blanks, and observed the delicate fear which 
 prevented thy filling them up ; and it has brought to my 
 remembrance, having once stumbled on the same subject 
 in one of the few letters which I wrote to thy deceased 
 relative J. G. Bevan, wlio in reply, whilst he commended 
 niy tenderness, and though no man was perhaps more cau- 
 tious in this respect than himself, yet he seemed careful to 
 guard me against a too fearful scrupulosity as to the use 
 even of the most solemn words when our subject required 
 it, and the mind was impressed with a due reverence. 
 Between this and a profane use of the sacred name he 
 drew a contrast, which we know to be great ; but I think 
 our present objection lies against something between these 
 extreme points, — a familiar, incautious, unnecessary, and 
 therefore vain custom, of solemn trifling with the awful 
 name and attributes of our great and holy Creator. I have 
 known professors, and even teachers of religion, who 
 seemed as if they thought this practice meritorious, whilst, 
 
157 
 
 with my views of the subject, it has felt almost as affect- 
 ing to me as the profane swearing of the ill-informed and 
 vulgar. It must however be acknowledged, that some of 
 the Scriptural writers, as David, Paul, and others, have 
 used a liberty in the case before us, wherein it may be the 
 safest for us to follow them with devout, but not with too 
 fearful steps ; perhaps the true medium may lie here. 
 
 My reading of the Scriptures in early life, perhaps like 
 thy own, was too desultory, and my memory very imper- 
 fect, so that from these sources I had little or nothing to 
 expect. "What remained for me, therefore, but to humble 
 myself, and instead of seeking great things, or aspiring 
 after high attainments, to become little or low in my own 
 eyes, if haply I might find that simplicity of a little child, 
 without which we are told the kingdom of heaven cannot 
 be entered, and discover that foolishness in which, if a 
 man would be truly wise, he must be content to appear ? 
 In this path, and with these objects in view, I have now 
 been for near twenty years endeavouring to travel ; witli 
 what success on the whole is known only to Him who 
 knoweth all things, and with how many inequalities, too 
 obvious to myself, I will not weary thee with enumerating. 
 
 I sometimes think it is both a consolation and an encou- 
 ragement for those, who it may be have studied the Scrip- 
 tures too littl3 in their youth, and whose loss of memory 
 prevents their entering upon such a study now with much 
 prospect of advantage ; I think it is an especial favour to 
 such, that amidst all their ignorance and emptiness, no 
 greater things are required of them than they are able to 
 bear, and that they are furnished by the Good Remem- 
 brancer with portions of Scripture as they want them 
 both for their own benefit and that of others. Wherefore, 
 
158 
 
 my dear friend, let us not be too much discouraged, though 
 we should have to class ourselves as among the least who 
 believe in Christ, but rather forgetting the things which 
 are behind, whether of omission or commission, which can 
 neither be altered nor recalled, let us press forward to the 
 things that are before, trusting (I desire to speak it \\\th 
 becoming reverence) to the mercies of God, and leaning on 
 Him, on whom archangels are said to lean, and who is the 
 same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. 
 
 In reply to a kind inquiry at the beginning of thy letter, 
 as to how I am, and what are the prospects around me, — in 
 spirituals I am surrounded for many, many miles by few 
 fellow-professors ; nor is fewness all that might be men- 
 tioned ; yet I sometimes hope that even in this stripped 
 district, a remnant are not forsaken ; and I thought so 
 particularly at our last Quarterly Meeting, when I was 
 refreshed by the sight of a small number of friends, with 
 some of whom I have been long accustomed to meet ; others 
 of them are " the youth of another day," yet interesting 
 to me for their fathers' sakes, and I hope I may say for 
 the truth's sake. The subject of the free love and mercy 
 of our Heavenly Father was much the companion of my 
 mind whilst assembled with them. As to temporals around 
 me, if that made any part of thy inquiry, they continue 
 to be very discouraging ; * and the situation of many of 
 my neighbours really affects me at times almost beyond 
 what I can describe : but it seems to avail nothing com- 
 plaining ; we must therefore endeavour to bear. 
 
 * Alluding to the depressed state of the farming interest. 
 
159 
 
 No. 91. To Sarah Squire. 
 
 1823, 2 mo. 21. — I can feel for thee under the buffeting 
 of Satan, wliereof in the shape of a wandering imagination, 
 thou so pathetically complained. This mode of his attack, 
 including both the roaring of the lion, the subtlety of the 
 serpent, and many nameless presentations, is in itself no 
 new or strange thing, though in appearance both new, 
 strange, and terrific to the individual who has not been 
 much, if at all accustomed to such conflicts. I was early 
 acquainted with them myself, so that before reaching 
 twenty years of age, I was almost driven to distraction. 
 The short petition, " Lord ! lielp me," which thou hast 
 mentioned as one that has sometimes escaped thee when 
 under deep trial, has forcibly reminded me of perhaps the 
 first fervent prayer I ever put up, — not in a temple made 
 with hands, — not in any congregation assembled for wor- 
 ship, — but in solitude, under the magnificent canopy of the 
 overarching heavens, and with a retired corner of a hay- 
 stack for my altar : here I cast myself in great agitation 
 on my knees, and exclaimed, " If there be a God in 
 heaven, I pray Tiice help me." 
 
 Nor was this tlie only period of my life in which 1 have 
 been thus pursued by him who is described as " going 
 about, &c." — who was permitted to prove Job, to withstand 
 Joshua, and even to tempt the dear Son of God himself; 
 for since I have been more decidedly endeavouring to serve 
 and to please my Creator, and to be what He would have 
 me to be, I have sometimes been thus Imnted, from day to 
 day, and from place to place. Once in particular I recol- 
 lect, when on a little turn-out with two women friends. 
 
160 
 
 who ere travellino- In the work of the ministry, I was 
 grievously tried with wandering thoughts from meeting to 
 meeting ; my very soul abhorred them, and at length a 
 language to this effect sprang up in the secret of my heart, 
 " If I have sinned, I pray Thee, forgive me ; but if these 
 things are for the trial of my faith and patience, I sub- 
 mit." Upon this the enemy vanislied, and I was enabled 
 to pursue the remainder of my journey in satisfaction and 
 peace ; and it is somewhat remarkable how useful I find 
 the remembrance of this circumstance, even to the present 
 time, so much so, that wlien followed, and might we not 
 almost say insulted, by this malignant spirit, I can gene- 
 rally by prayer and patience foil, or at least silence him. 
 
 Although no consideration ought to reconcile us to sin, 
 there are I think several which may prevent our being too 
 much surprised at temptation, or from viewing it as a 
 thing inconsistent with our probationary state, of whicli 
 perhaps, speaking after the manner of men, it might be 
 almost said to form an integral part, wherefore " Blessed 
 is the man that endureth it ;" " To him that overcometh 
 will I give," &c. But if there were no such thing as 
 temptation, there would be none to endure, and were there 
 no opposition, there would be nothing to overcome. Were 
 there none of these, there could be neither warfare nor 
 victory, nor is it probable we should have been favoured 
 with a promise and declaration, which I consider as one of 
 the most precious left us on sacred record. " Because thou 
 hast kept the word of my patience, I also will keep thee 
 from the hour of temptation, which shall come upon all 
 the world, to try them that dwell upon the earth." 
 
 Do not think, however, that I would assume the office 
 of a preacher to thee. I am only giving thee a leaf of my 
 
161 
 
 experience, to help thee against our common enemy, in a 
 case wherein I have had, and may yet have, many a com- 
 bat with him. For thou hast not been mistaken in sup- 
 posing, that notwithstanding my being- further advanced 
 in age than thyself, yet I find amidst the vicissitudes 
 which surround me, stormy night seasons, which not un- 
 frequently either to my weakness or my impatience, per- 
 haps to both, seem long, dark, and dreary. Yet, like thy- 
 self, I have nothing of which I would complain, rather 
 let me respond to thy sweet and moving ejaculation, " O 
 that the good Pilot may guard and protect us !" and let 
 us endeavour to be of good cheer. I hope and trust He 
 will. 
 
 No. 92. To J. AND H. C. Backhouse. 
 
 1823, 3 mo. 2f?. — Whilst desirous for myself never again 
 to aspire above the docility and dependence of a little 
 child, I feel that there is a sense in which some of the 
 junior branches of the Christian family may be addressed 
 as dear children by their elder brethren and sisters, to 
 whom they are given by the universal Parent as " dear 
 children" in the truth. Between these different classes of 
 society there exists a reciprocal and appropriate intercourse 
 of comfort and of help. How beautiful, beheld only in 
 vision, is this part of the divine and spiritual economy ! 
 but how valuable in possession to those who have wan- 
 dered in a far country, and there spent all their substance, 
 is a readmission to this and all the varied privileges of 
 their Heavenly Father's house ! How diligently, yet in 
 liow quiet and unassuming a manner, I sometimes think, 
 
162 
 
 such should go about the business assigned them, that so 
 they may neither interfere with the concerns of others, nor 
 interrupt the innocent enjoyments of those who more 
 happily have never been guilty of equal aberrations from 
 the paths of rectitude and duty ! Will you not rather 
 incline to pity than reproach these penitents, whoever they 
 are, and wherever you find them ? For the present I take 
 leave of my subject, with an acknowledgment of its being 
 one of the most interesting I ever contemplate, and one 
 from which my mind is seldom long separated : those who 
 have themselves been aliens and exiles learn to know the 
 heart of a stranger. 
 
 Though I consider myself principled against that praise 
 of men of which I think even the better part of the world 
 is too lavish, I deem it right duly to appreciate and grate- 
 fully to acknowledge, whether immediately or instrumen- 
 tally conveyed, the inestimable value of the greatest of all 
 blessings, Love, — our solace in time and our hope as to 
 eternity, Avithout which the first would be more of a wil- 
 derness than it is, and the last would present but an 
 awful uncertainty. 
 
 The value of even words fitly spoken consists in their 
 application to our understanding, or, which perhaps is a 
 distinction without a difference, to the opennesss of the 
 understanding to receive them. I think also that this 
 capacity for receiving them may depend either upon the 
 circumstances in which we are placed, or on the influence 
 of that principle which shall bring all things needful to 
 the remembrance of those who receive and believe in it. 
 It is generally by one of these means, or by them both 
 conjointly, that not only the language of Scripture but that 
 of our friends, whether written or vocal, can be made truly 
 
163 
 
 useful to us, either as doctrine, reproof, or instruction. 
 We cannot, at least I cannot, carry the Bible in my head ; 
 and yet what cause for thankfulness I find in having por- 
 tions of it, often very brief ones, presented to my mind 
 when I most want them ! Such as seem more particularly 
 for my own use are not always of the most gratifying 
 nature ; perhaps nothing but such a passage as the second 
 and third verses of the thirtieth chapter of the Proverbs, 
 " Surely I am more brutish than any man, and have not 
 the understanding of a man. I neither learned wisdom, 
 nor have the knowledge of the holy," will at all apply. 
 This, on turning to it, thou wilt see is rather homely fare ; 
 yet liowever unpalatable, when hungry enough to receive 
 it, I have found it good both as food and medicine. As 
 the first, it might be compared to strong meat ; and as the 
 second, it is an especial antidote against pride in its various 
 branches. 
 
 H. has I think truly observed, that it is of no moment 
 from what causes the mind becomes reduced. Admitting 
 this, I think its reductions may be sometimes owing to 
 obvious, at others, to more latent or even incomprehensible 
 causes. Of the latter description is that state of feeling 
 which, leaving the understanding perfectly clear, neither 
 proceeding from reason nor imagination, seems to threaten 
 us with annihilation. And though I am far from believing 
 it to be the will, yet I so much believe it is in the power 
 of the Creator to cause " the spirit to fail before Him, and 
 the souls which He has made," that were the proofs to 
 which I have alluded sufibred to continue, it might pos- 
 sibly perform what it threatens. The subject, however, 
 being as I have said incomprehensible, it is not in human 
 language to do it adequate justice ; perhaps it may bear 
 
Ifi4 
 
 some comparison to the falling of that stone whicli we are 
 told shall grind to powder those upon whom it descends ; 
 or perhaps still more to the withdrawing of that sustaining 
 power which not only upholds the worlds, but is equally 
 necessary to the preservation of individual existence. 
 
 I know I am upon sacred and delicate, yet, unless my 
 own sensations in some of the most memorable moments 
 of my life have greatly deceived me, I think I am not on 
 dreaming or fabulous ground, and therefore perhaps it is 
 that I am tlie more desirous of making myself intelligible, 
 to one at least of those who, having passed through more 
 than ordinary reductions both of body and mind, may be 
 the most likely to understand me. With this view I will 
 venture to add, what I never ventured on paper before, 
 that these mysterious baptisms (for are we not sometimes 
 made wonders to ourselves ? ) have to myself received their 
 most striking illustration, from the circumstance of an 
 animal, suppose a bird or a mouse, placed under the re- 
 ceiver of an air-pump, and the air gradually withdrawn 
 from it, until after acute suffering it becomes at lengtli 
 torpid and to appearance dead ; but the vital spark not 
 being quite extinguished, on a readmission of the element 
 of which it has been deprived, the poor creature revives, 
 and in a short time exhibits all its former sprightliness and 
 energy. Is not this somewhat emblematic of a mind cut 
 off from all sense and feeling of good, until He who is its 
 resurrection and its life shall appear for its relief, when it 
 is once more united to the living ; it is again restored to 
 all the purposes of life and duty. 
 
 Now though it may be of no moment, or even might 
 not be good for us, to know how all these effects are pro- 
 duced in and upon us, yet I have thought this species of 
 
165 
 
 liumiliation, perhaps the deepest of which we are capable, 
 may be the most effectual of all others upon minds not 
 only conscious of their own powers, but made confident 
 in them by that kind of knowledge which by our limited 
 understandings is deemed, and perhaps as far as it extends 
 is rightly called, demonstrative. 
 
 And truly it requires no common influence to bring 
 minds of this description from the heights of their Carmel 
 into that valley where the Lord will condescend to plead 
 with them. And yet how general is the extraordinary 
 course of mental exercise, which He sees to be necessary 
 for this important purpose, misunderstood, or rather not 
 understood at all, by the natural man ! — professors of 
 medicine often blending it with what they call nervous 
 affections ; and professors of divinity, sometimes still more 
 in the dark, bestowing upon it the opprobrious and de- 
 grading epithets of mysticism, enthusiasm, and fanaticism. 
 
 I hope these observations will have no tendency to 
 depress thee, or lead thee into a train of unprofitable 
 thought, which would indeed be the very reverse of my 
 intention. It is simply this, tliat if ever tliou art again 
 plunged into what thou hast well called " the depths of 
 our existence," or shouldst behold another there, thou 
 raayst remember for thy encouragement, having once 
 known a man who pretending to no more, yet in spite of 
 ignorance or ridicule, laying claim to common rationality, 
 confessing himself unable fully to describe the depths of 
 those spiritual scenes through which in the course of his 
 pilgrimage he has passed, leaves yet behmd him certain 
 traces or footsteps by which the future traveller may dis- 
 cern that he once was there. 
 
166 
 
 No. 93. To Joseph Guhney. 
 
 1823, 4 mo. 21. — In the course of the last month I 
 went with niy daughters into Yorlvshirc. Leaving them 
 at Selhy, I took a ride alone into Holderness to see those 
 who remained of my mother's relations, as well as a few 
 of the surviving friends of my youth, in whose society, 
 when between the age of hoy and man, I was not less 
 informed, for they were my seniors, than delighted. Of 
 the latter I found three retired from business, making one 
 little family ; a man and wife whose imited ages make 
 upwards of 150 years, and a sister of the latter, who I 
 believe is more than 70. They all appeared in full posses- 
 sion of their faculties, which I think are rather of a su- 
 perior order, and the married couple retaining so much 
 bodily strength as yet to ride double-horsed twelve miles 
 to their monthly meeting, which I believe has been their 
 practice for more than half a century. As we meet very 
 seldom, this interview, though short, was reciprocally com- 
 fortable, whilst standing like the remnant of a broken 
 regiment on a field whereon many of our former com- 
 panions had fallen around us. The scene thus presented 
 was solemn, though not terrific ; and just before quitting 
 it my intellectual feelings so much corresponded with the 
 state of the elements, which from stormy had become 
 calm, that, as in passing the voyage of life I not unfre- 
 quently am, I was reminded of Addison's beautiful hymn 
 beginning " How are thy servants blessed, O Lord !" At 
 this time the lines which impressed me as the most de- 
 scriptive of the mental circumstances of myijelf and friends 
 were these : — 
 
167 
 
 " The storm was laid, the winds retired, 
 Obedient to tliy will ; 
 The sea that roared at thy command, 
 At thy command was still.'' 
 
 No. 94.— To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1823, 7 mo. 21. — That life is full of vicissitude, is an 
 observation almost too trite to bo worth making, yet old 
 as the remark is, the experience on which it is founded is 
 new every day. Thus thy infirm friend, who probably 
 appeared quite in health when we lately met, has since 
 his return home been visited with a very sharp fit of those 
 pains in the head which on taking cold frequently fix and 
 centre there, making an already weak part still weaker. 
 But be it so : I will not repine, hoping that through 
 mercy, — for all is of mercy, — I have been enabled to bear 
 not only the chastisement itself, but the bleeding, blister- 
 ing, &c. consequent thereon, tolerably. Nor would this 
 be worth recording, but as the means of passing a few 
 recovering moments in pleasant intercourse with thee, and 
 as an illustration of the subject on which I stumbled at 
 setting out. 
 
 Our being together at Lynn was truly cordial to me, 
 and fulfilled all that I had anticipated from it, in renewing 
 and cementing our union. On mature reflection, no less 
 than in our evening walk on the quay, I consider the day 
 we passed there, as being on the whole a day of favour, or 
 according to my text in our conversation, " as a day which 
 the Lord had made," and in which therefore we might 
 humbly rejoice. There appear to be now and then, as 
 I doubt not thou hast observed, seasons which are 
 
168 
 
 more than ordinarily consecrated and sanctified. And yet, 
 — for such is the imperfection of man, and of all around 
 him, and such the nature of that earthen vessel in which this 
 most precious treasure is deposited, — I scarcely ever find 
 a joy, or even an excellence, which by passing through a 
 medium does not receive some degree of alloy. Perhaps 
 this is unavoidable, perhaps it is even good for us in our 
 present state, as its imiform efi'ect on my own mind is 
 mortification for one thing ; and sometimes I hope humility 
 without dismay for another, and I never find a safer rest- 
 ing-place. 
 
 These lines, which are a little varied from the original, as 
 better suiting my purpose, were applied very impressively 
 to my own case in a state of nature, as I was walking 
 alone to our small meeting, I think so lately as fourth- 
 day last : — 
 
 " Legion was my name by nature, 
 Satan raged within my breast ; 
 Never was more vile a creature, 
 Never creature more distressed." 
 
 22nd. — Let us now reverse the medal, where perhaps to 
 our equal surprise we shall find a presentation not only 
 less appalling, but even shining with the glory of God, and 
 yet little less humiliating to the creature. For although 
 it be indeed true that the suddenness of my conversion (on 
 the highway too) and the display of power attending it, 
 may bear some resemblance to that of the apostle Paul, 
 yet here the simile entirely fails, and all further comparison, 
 from that hour to the present, fills me with a tender but 
 not painful confusion. Not painful, because in this 
 crisis, love with its softest touches interposes for my 
 
169 
 
 relief, and mercy in her gentlest whispers forbids me to 
 despair. All hail, the glorious day ! nearer I trust than 
 when I first believed, and as I sometimes fain would hope, 
 not now very far oft', when no longer impeded by obscurity 
 or interruption, I shall extol the Fountain of these ineffa- 
 ble attributes with unceasing Hallelujahs. 
 
 I find a spring of comfort and congratulation arise in 
 my heart towards those who of latter years have attached 
 themselves more closely and decidedly to the principles 
 
 and practices of Friends ; and in this view and 
 
 have a place in that secret and sacred recess of my heart, 
 from which I think everything gross and selfisli is the 
 most excluded. Here it is that 1 love them, not so much 
 for my own sake or for theirs exclusively, as for the Lord's 
 sake, and for the sake of his blessed truth, and especially 
 for the sake of that little church, which (however de- 
 spised, overlooked, or misunderstood,) is to those who have 
 been rightly initiated within its walls, and who abide 
 upon its immovable foundations, a quiet refuge and a 
 peaceful sanctuary. For thus, without invidious com- 
 parison, I must be allowed to believe of it, and thus per- 
 haps I maj' be allowed to persuade others to believe, in 
 this inviting language, nearly that of an apostle, " Come, 
 and have fellowship with us, for truly our fellowship is 
 with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ :" but 
 not exclusively your privilege, some might object : I do 
 not say this, but this I am bold to avow in the face of the 
 whole world, (and with thee for my Aaron need I fear 
 contradiction?) that under the fastidious nickname by 
 which we are designated, after some examination and much 
 reluctance to bearing its crosses, there still appears to me 
 to be comprised and concealed, even under this very re- 
 
170 
 
 proach, the most simple, unsophisticated and essential form 
 of Christian profession. 
 
 Whilst no man perhaps thinks less than I do of the 
 boast of heraldry and the pomp of power, whilst no man 
 believes more fully than I do that the universal Parent 
 made of one blood all the families of the earth, and there- 
 fore in his sight, the soul of the master and the soul of the 
 servant are alike inestimably precious ; yet this persuasion 
 does not in the least interfere with my further belief, that 
 it has pleased the same Almighty Creator and Governor 
 of the world to appoint various classes and conditions of 
 men in society, both civil and religious, and that it is 
 also his will that not only these different classes, but each 
 individual in every class, should contribute to the good of 
 the whole according to the talents bestowed upon him and 
 his opportunities for exercising them. 
 
 How much, since we parted, I have been comforted and 
 strengthened by recurring to the passage which came so 
 much before thee in our precious evening meeting at Lynn, 
 " My soul, wait thou only upon God, for my expectation 
 is from Him." So true it is that our minds want stirring 
 up by way of remembrance, even of things whereof it 
 might be supposed that we not only knew them before, 
 but were fully established in them. 
 
 On casting an eye over my performance I perceive that 
 a trembling hand and a faltering mind, sometimes oc- 
 casioned by my subject, and sometimes by fatigue and 
 weakness, have produced both blots and blunders. Excuse 
 these, and excuse still more important imbecilities and 
 imperfections of thy friend. 
 
171 
 
 No. 95. To Joseph Gurnet. 
 
 1823, 7 ^no. 31. — My desire toward such 
 
 of my junior friends as may be similarly circumstanced, 
 both in temporals and spirituals, with this dear young 
 man, is to encourage without flattering, and to warn with- 
 out woimding them. Yet such is the frailty of human 
 temperament, if I shall not weary thee with a theme to 
 which I am almost perpetually recurring, and which indeed 
 appears to me to be inexhaustible, that when the views of 
 man are most correct, and his object is in sight, his arm is 
 still weak and deviating, so that in executing the best in- 
 tentions, or even commands, his arrow is apt to fly on this 
 side or that, and sometimes beyond the mark. Hence 
 what need of his own watchful care and skill, and how 
 much greater necessity of something above it, — of that 
 preserving help which can onli/ keep liim from falling ! 
 Tlie last is a point which, however imworthily I may 
 treat it, I am particularly desirous of impressing in tlie 
 deepest manner upon my friends and fellow-mortals of all 
 classes, whatever their distinctions, denominations, or at- 
 tainments may be. 
 
 I quite unite in thy sentiment of judging even our own 
 selves, believing that in this way much time and strength 
 may be spent to little purpose ; and the simple yet solemn 
 consideration, that the thoughts of Him to whom judg- 
 ment no less than mercy belongeth are higher than our 
 thoughts, and his ways higher than our ways, tends more 
 than anything, short of his own sensible presence in the 
 temple of my heart, to silence the vain cogitations and 
 calm the anxieties which are so apt to intrude, and even 
 
 r 2 
 
172 
 
 to reign there. This is not judging at random, it is mere 
 statement of fact ; a fact on wliich may -we not devoutly 
 conchide with the apostle, that thanks are indeed due to 
 Him who giveth us the victory. 
 
 No. 96. To H. C. Backhouse. 
 
 1823, 11 mo. 20. — Though our Heavenly Father is 
 merciful, and our friends may, as mine are, be kind, yet 
 perhaps few of us are wholly exempt from a painful and 
 a solitary hour. Instance those nocturnal vigilg, wherein 
 the body is too weary or too suflFering to sleep, and the 
 mind, still more restless, is too anxious for repose, and in- 
 stead of this, though j^erhaps not very wisely, traverses 
 sea and land as it were in quest of new and increased 
 disquietude, until at length, somewhat like the patriarch's 
 dove, weary with these unprofitable wanderings, we are 
 driven back again to the ark, or in language more befitting 
 Christian pilgrims, are compelled to feel after that effective 
 Word, which, to the turbulence of our spirits no less than 
 to the fury of the elements, can, and only can, say, 
 " Peace, be still." This sentiment is I believe consistent 
 both with Scripture and experience ; and to the same pur- 
 port sweetly and I think truly has sung a Christian poet, 
 who appears to have been deeply versed in our subject : 
 let us hear him : — 
 
 " Some dream that they can silence when they will 
 The storm of passion, and say, Peace, be still ; 
 But thus far, and no further, when addressed 
 To the wild wave, or wilder human breast, 
 Implies authority, that never can, 
 That never ought to be, the lot of man." 
 
173 
 
 I have within these few months been bereaved by death 
 of a beloved niece, wife to Samuel Sims of Stockport, who 
 for several years previous to her marriage was my com- 
 panion and housekeeper, much to our mutual comfort and 
 satisfaction. This dear young woman, always amiable and 
 serious, had I believe for a considerable time been in- 
 creasingly solicitous for her eternal well-being ; and though 
 her path was a very retired one, her end seems to have 
 been crowned with peace. Nay, so far as we dim-sighted 
 mortals can judge from appearances, seen as we behold 
 them through a glass darkly, it was more ; for I am in- 
 formed by a relation who attended her through her illness, 
 that as her earthly part declined, her prospects into 
 another and a better world seemed to expand and to 
 brighten ; so much so as to induce a hope, and the hope 
 has both consoled and encouraged me, that one who, in 
 order no doubt to her purification, had passed through 
 many and deep baptisms, was finally admitted into inef- 
 fable beatitude, as by the portals of a triumphant glory. 
 Does such a hope in such a case as this, for afflictions are 
 apt to carry ns too far, exceed in thy judgment tlie tenor 
 of that language which has been precious to many a droop- 
 ing mind, held out to us by the dear Redeemer himself in 
 the beginning of the fifth chapter of Matthew, wherein I 
 seem to see the outlines of my dear niece's character ex- 
 actly portrayed ? — she was a mourner, she was meek, she 
 was merciful — and she is gone. 
 
 After thus devoting a solitary hour, as a free-will 
 offering to my valued friend, I do not know that I can 
 do better than conclude under the feeling of solemnity 
 which the last words in the last sentence have brought 
 over my mind. 
 
174 
 
 No. 97. To H. C. Backhouse. 
 
 1824, 1 mo. 3. — As to thy question how far mental or 
 even personal cultivation may minister to pride or humi- 
 lity, the ground may not be quite clear ; and yet if we can 
 admit, as I think I can, that when the mind is healthy 
 and well-regulated the person will mostly be sufficiently 
 attended to, as an effect from its cause, perhaps we may 
 safely conclude the most improved state of all our faculties 
 to be favourable as handmaids, but as handmaids only, to 
 religion and virtue. And that in this capacity of subjec- 
 tion to the Christian cross they are also the ornament and 
 the innocent delight of civil society, enabling their favoured 
 possessor to strew more flowers and scatter greater bene- 
 fits, amongst his fellow-travellers in their journey through 
 the intricate and sometimes discouraging paths of time. 
 
 But here, consistently with our acknowledged love of 
 order, let us preserve the needful and obvious distinction, 
 between what really improves and that which only adorns, 
 or between wise and judicious instruction and mere 
 worldly accomplishment ; as under the latter designation 
 I am inclined to believe, amongst the other hurtful things, 
 may be recognised the deepest humiliation of the under- 
 standing and the greatest corruption of the lieart. 
 
 It has long been a decided sentiment with me, that all the 
 advantages a man possesses, whetlier natural or acquired, 
 enable him to be either a better or a worse man, according 
 as he lends himself to the service of the best or the worst 
 of masters ; that is to say, he Avill be either better or worse 
 than other men, in proportion to the means he possesses 
 
175 
 
 of being so, and as his tcill is inclined in the application of 
 them. Thus the very same means which by the renewed 
 mind are made powerful auxiliaries in the service of 
 religion, are by the lawless and disobedient turned into 
 equally powerful aids in the planning and execution of 
 every kind of wickedness. Hence the scholar under the 
 influence of divine grace will generally be found to possess 
 some advantages in the present life over the more simple 
 and unlettered Christian ; whilst, on the other hand, a 
 learned sophist is the most dangerous of all sophists, and 
 a wealthy and powerful, the most distinguished of all 
 tyrants ; as a knowing and strong, will always excel the 
 weak and less practised robber. 
 
 I am aware that such cases as thou hast adduced of 
 our dear and dignified friend , appear to form parti- 
 cular exceptions to that part of my theory which respects 
 good men ; yet I think they do not amount to a general 
 objection, for even he might have w'ritten a letter witli 
 less pain to himself, and perhaps with better purpose to 
 his friends, had he been more liberally educated ; whilst 
 it must be acknowledged that the manner in which this 
 deficiency was supplied, both in meetings and in the social 
 circle, was an astonishing instance of the eflfect of Divine 
 influence upon a comparatively untutored mind. And 
 what does this prove ? That the natural and legitimate 
 object and purpose of this influence is at once to rectify 
 and refine the understanding, to purify and new create 
 the heart ; and thus operating, to make both the mind 
 and the person not only less repulsive but very agreeable. 
 How sweet may we now and then observe the cast of 
 that index, the countenance, to be even in individuals 
 labouring under every disadvantage, but that of impiety. 
 
J 76 
 
 I have beheld this high order of beauty in the deformed, 
 the aged, and the poor. 
 
 Against the pride that " would be angel" it is doubt- 
 less proper to guard, but this appears to consist in a 
 curious, aspiring, and too inquisitive disposition ; a philo- 
 sopliy falsely so called, that would be wise above that 
 which is either written or revealed, which is more allied to 
 folly than to wisdom, and just the reverse of cultivation 
 and improvement. I do not think this need be any bar 
 to the education of dear children according to the best 
 understanding and abilities of their parents, and with 
 some view perhaps to the sphere of life in which they 
 may have to move. 
 
 After all, the longer I live the more I am persuaded by 
 observation and experience, that in all our concerns, and 
 especially that of bringing up our families, unless the Lord 
 build the house, they labour in vain that build it ; and un- 
 less He keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain. 
 The most anxious and assiduous parents can never make 
 their offspring what they would have them to be, without 
 a blessing upon their endeavours, and the co-operation of 
 the children with both. Parents or guardians, therefore, 
 seem to me to make but one of three parties ; but they are 
 a party, and their office is important, especially in its ear- 
 liest exercise. Let them then not neglect it, as in this 
 case, whatever else may be the issue, they may expect 
 peace in the retrospect of having endeavoured to do their 
 duty ; yea, they may derive encouragement from the hope 
 that their counsels, like bread cast on the waters, may be 
 found after many days ; and that their prayers, their 
 labour, and travail may be answered, even after they 
 themselves are numbered with the silent dead. 
 
177 
 
 Whilst I contemplate mental cultivation as holding a 
 distinguished and essential part in raising our species from 
 a savage to a civilized condition, I consider religion, the 
 Christian religion, as that which, after education has done 
 its best, can funish, and only can furnish, the perfect mo- 
 del of acconiplisiied man ; and this it efifects by producing 
 in the willing and obedient mind what the apostle Paul 
 has appropriately called the fruits of the Spirit ; whilst 
 on the reverse of the medal he has given us, as the fruits 
 of the flesh, all tliat is affecting and deplorable in the 
 picture of unchanged, and may we not add of unrefined 
 nature, groaning under its terrible and unrelenting task- 
 master — the Pharaoh of the soul. 
 
 No. 98. To Joseph Gubney. 
 
 1824, 1 mo. 17. — Thy saying, that in spuituals, thank- 
 fulness thou hopest prevails, whilst of fruitfulness thou 
 canst say little, but art still desiring to be content, suits 
 me quite well. I too am I hope thankful, not for having 
 performed great or numerous works, I am sure, neitlier 
 for any redundant sense of the best feelings, but rather 
 that my life, both natural and spiritual, has liitherto 
 been preserved from the power of a cruel and insidious 
 enemy, who on the best autliority is described as " going 
 about continually, seeking whom he may devour and of 
 whom we probably have each of us known enough to bo 
 able, from experience, to say with the apostle, we are not 
 ignorant of his devices. 
 
 I have often thouglit of poor Baruch, scribe to the pro- 
 phet Jeremiah, the times in which he lived, and his fears 
 excited thereby. Tliis recollection has sometimes, when 
 
 I 5 
 
178 
 
 under discouragement, proved a stay and support to my 
 mind, and has led me, instead of seeking great things of 
 any kind for myself, to endeavour after an increase of 
 patience in tribulation, if happily by such an acquiescence 
 in griefs I cannot cure, I may, as was promised to that 
 good man, have my life given me for a prey, in all places 
 wherein it may appear my duty to stay or to go. Possibly 
 thou mayst at times have known something like this : if 
 not, do not hastily charge me with murmuring or com- 
 plaining, which is so far from my desire that I had much 
 rather assume continuall}', both in converse and in writing, 
 that innocently cheerful air which some say religion should 
 perpetually inspire ; but theory and fact will, in defiance 
 of our best arrangements, sometimes disagree ; and were 
 there nothing else, age I believe begins to give me " its 
 own complexion," so that I must not only feel as I can, 
 but appear as I can, which I am often jealous is not with 
 all the contentment and gratitude becoming a professed 
 admirer of the apostolic injunction, to " rejoice evermore, 
 and in everything give thanks." 
 
 19tk — My youngest son, my two daughters, and myself, 
 who now fomi my family, are at present in the enjoy- 
 ment of usual health. We reside in the same house where 
 I was born, wliich by a little retouching we have endea- 
 voured to make a kind of comfortable cottage, and I 
 believe I may say we have succeeded to our general con- 
 tent. This is pleasant, as the taste of young and elderly 
 folks often differs so much. By means of a pretty large 
 bow-window, which being the half of a hexagon admits 
 views to ths E.N.E. and S.E., we have obtained a suffi- 
 cientlv light and commodious sitting-room, wliich is impor- 
 tant to me for reading, and taking exercise when I cannot 
 
179 
 
 conveniently take it abroad. We pass our long evenings 
 partly with books. P. reads, his sisters work, and criti- 
 cise the recent schoolboy, whilst I sit in my arm-chair as 
 grand umpire, or referee in doubtful or difficult cases. 
 
 If thou canst bear with me in my self-criticism I may 
 add I have sometimes found a sweet satisfaction in allow- 
 ing myself the time, and in submitting to the humiliation 
 of exchanging a strong impression, which has first pre- 
 sented itself, for one of a gentler tone ; for though we 
 may feel acutely, or think we see clearly, it does not 
 therefore follow that we should express ourselves either as 
 forcibly, or to the utmost extent our subject would bear. 
 It perhaps is safer to have something in reserve, should 
 we be pressed, or for our hearers or readers to supply ; 
 and I believe that in a general way we obtain quite as 
 much credit for our assertions, and find our way as easily 
 into the heart by moderate, I do not mean cold and indif- 
 ferent, language, as by that which is more assuming and 
 veliement. 
 
 No. 99. To Sarau Squire. 
 
 1824, 3 mo. 24. — In extreme trial of our faith and pa- 
 tience, what shall we say ? what shall we do ? Can we 
 do better than bring our joys and our griefs, our hopes 
 and our sorrows, our crosses and our crowns, and let us 
 not forget to add, our sins and infirmities, and tlius weary 
 and heavy laden, cast our burthen at the sacred footstool 
 of the Most High, attended, should strength be afforded, 
 with this brief, yet pathetic intercession, " Lord, have 
 mercy, for thy dear Son's sake, upon a poor and most nn- 
 wortliy creature, who finds all other help, and all his own 
 
180 
 
 endeavours, without thy blessing especially superadded, to 
 he altogether unavailino." 
 
 To act thus I think we are encouraged by the precepts 
 of our dear Redeemer, by the general tenor of Scripture, 
 by our former experience, and by the advice and exhorta- 
 tions of a cloud of witnesses, both among the living and 
 the dead. Of the latter I think few are so distinguished 
 by beauty, excellence, and instruction as the letters of our 
 late friend in religious profession, John Thorp. They in- 
 deed seem peculiarly adapted to the present day of per- 
 plexity and of treading down ; for such, however it may 
 be as to the general state of society, it certainly is in the 
 painful experience of many individuals, so that whether 
 we look on the right hand or the left, before or behind us, 
 we find ourselves surrounded by companions in tribulation. 
 Oh ! that all who are thus afflicted may prove compa- 
 nions also in that faith and patience, which shall ultimately 
 have tlie victory, and obtain the crown immortal as their 
 reward ! 
 
 XO. 100. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1824, 3 mo. 26. — I am ready to conclude, that there 
 never was in any human breast a more settled contempt 
 and aversion than in mine, to those peculiarities of our re- 
 ligious profession which I once chose to denominate (in 
 what spirit I leave thee to judge) the badges of Quaker- 
 ism ; so much for education without grace. Whereas, 
 now I am ready to think that few, if any, rejoice more 
 sincerely than I do, to see any of my friends faithful, not 
 superstitious, in the observance even of the minor points of 
 our law ; seeing that the least of them have their relations, 
 and form links in the chain. And T am further willing to 
 
181 
 
 take a little credit for at least the belief that no one feels, 
 according to his capacity of feehng, a more tender sym- 
 pathy for those who are thus exercised under self-denial 
 and the daily cross, from the remembrance of conflicts 
 which I have endured, surely never to be forgotten, on 
 this deeply interesting subject. 
 
 No. 101. To JoSIAU FORSTER. 
 
 1824, 5 mo. 7- — Whilst I hope I am not wanting in a 
 general love of mankind, or of charity towards the mem- 
 bers of other religious communities, I find that the talent 
 (for I scarcely dare speak in the plural) committed to my 
 trust, if I rightly apprehend it, confines my attention 
 very much within the limits of our own borders. Here 
 indeed I am well aware my obvious labours have been 
 very far from extensive; — not so I trust my inward ex- 
 ercise, — for since being awakened to a sense of the im- 
 portance of my own salvation, identifying myself with a 
 people to whose principles I am not more by education 
 than by judgment attached, my spiritual strength and my 
 mental solicitude have been very much absorbed in feel- 
 ings, perhaps not wholly dissimilar to those from whence 
 proceeded the plaintive cry of old, " Spare thy people, O 
 Lord ! and give not thy heritage to reproach :" indeed I 
 have been almost exclusively occupied in this secret path, 
 as whatever may be my inclination, I find little opportu- 
 nity for much personal attention to any of the numerous 
 good things that are now going forward, having for their 
 laudable object the improvement of the world, and that 
 upon an extensive scale. 
 
 For when I would willingly unite in any of these pub- 
 
182 
 
 lie engagements, and could desire to rejoice in the reports, 
 wliicli, somewhat like " songs from the uttermost parts of 
 the earth," I hear of their success, my thoughts are almost 
 instantly called home to the scattered remnant of my own 
 society, into which again merging, the language of Woe 
 is nie ! my leanness ! my leanness ! frequently and spon- 
 taneously arises. 
 
 I should be sorry to entertain, and still more sorry to 
 propagate, too discouraging a view of things ; and though 
 that which I am now taking is not at my own command, 
 and is one of which I cannot entirely divest myself, yet I 
 am quite willing to hope it may be of more local than 
 universal application. 
 
 Our dear friend George Withy, however, who was here 
 last summer, had a little to counteract this fear, by saying 
 in a very small gathering, at which I was present, that he 
 seldom sat down with friends so few in number but that 
 he found somewhat worth preserving. These expressions 
 were encouraging to me at the time, and are still precious 
 in my remembrance, as I neither expect a higher station, 
 nor desire a better reward than that of those who mourn in 
 Zion. How full of consolation to the respective classes to 
 which they are particularly addressed, are the beatitudes 
 of tlie dear Redeemer ! May we aspire after no greater 
 commendation, benefit, or dignity, than to be found among 
 the favoured subjects of them, even at the price proposed, 
 which I think we may in one word denominate self-renun- 
 ciation. 
 
 No. 102. To Joseph Gurxey. 
 
 1824, 9 mo. 29. — I notice tlie expression of thy desire 
 that our young friends might be able to sec their Creator 
 
183 
 
 in every part of his visible works. I think this would 
 be good both for youth and age ; and 1 therefore love to 
 contemplate creation, not only in its parts, but in its 
 origin, as described with dignified simphcity, some say 
 with equally sound philosophy, in the first chapter of 
 Genesis. Indeed there is nothing that stumbles or ofi"ends 
 even my reason in supposing that a Being, infinitely wise, 
 good, and powerful, should delight in the communication 
 of existence, life, order, beauty, and ha]3pincss, with a 
 view to his own glory in the perfection of his intelligent 
 creature, man ; for though this may not be the whole, I 
 think it will be generally allowed to form a material part 
 of the vast, the incomprehensible design. 
 
 I therefore sometimes delight, with such limited means 
 as I possess, to trace creation to its source, which I would 
 call a simple act of free and benevolent volition in its 
 Author, who, by a fiat thus begotten, " called for things 
 that were not," and they instantly " were ;" so that, ac- 
 cording to the apostle, " things which are seen were not 
 made of things which do appear." Is it not, my friend, 
 interesting thus to go back even to the formation of matter 
 itself ; but is it not surpassing wonder to consider the in- 
 finitely various modifications of this simple material, dust, 
 as exhibited to us by our senses of seeing, hearing, feel- 
 ing, tasting, and smelling ? In this way I think, whilst 
 concealing Himself behind the veil of his own works from 
 mortal vision, may be clearly seen by the eye of faith, an 
 omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent Deity, by whom 
 we are most intimately surrounded, and in whom we lite- 
 rally live, and move, and have our being, a God over all, 
 in all, and through all, holy and blesssed and reverend is 
 his name ; and that before time Avas, whilst it continues, 
 and wlien it shall be no longer. 
 
184 
 
 No. 103. To J. J. GCRNEY. 
 
 Spaldifif)^ 1824, 10 mo. 14. — I want to tell thee how 
 frequently and fervently those desires of which I gave thee 
 but an imperfect idea at Fulbeck, continue to ascend to 
 the Father of mercies and God of all comfort for thy wel- 
 fare every way, — tliat in heights and in depths, in pros- 
 perity and adversity, in health and in sickness, in weakness 
 and in strength, amidst the smiles of thy friends or the 
 frowns of those who may not wish thee so well. He, the 
 universal Parent, may preserve, defend, and spare thee, 
 even as a man spareth his own son who servetli him. 
 
 But whilst I am thus concerned to console and strengthen, 
 I would also drop this general word of exhortation, — that 
 seeing it is only by grace that we any of us are what we 
 are, we must therefore be ever careful to render the undi- 
 vided honour of any good work that may be wrought by, 
 or through us, to the Author of it. And if ever the pahii 
 of victory, or the meed of praise should, with better inten- 
 tion tlian judgment, be presented to us by our frail fellow- 
 mortals, who are sometimes found to be feeble as frail, let 
 us on these occasions be careful to cast every crown, at- 
 tainment, or possession upon the altar of sacrifice, as a 
 whole and entire burnt-ofi'ering, that there, being tried by 
 fire, and purged from dross and defilement, the}' may not 
 only ascend with acceptance in a cloud of sweet incense 
 before the throne of the Most High, but may procure for 
 tlie prostrate suppliant a return, not of the turbulent emo- 
 tions of an unsanctified and selfish pleasure, but of those 
 holier feelings of quietness and assurance, which are at 
 once the evidence and the foretaste of a future inheritance, 
 incorruptible and that fadeth not away, — reserved in hea- 
 
105 
 
 ven for those who by patient continuance in well doing, 
 seek for glory, honour, and immortality ; — but let us re- 
 member, that the glory and honour here intended are to 
 come hereafter, and must be sought for by present self- 
 renunciation, and by ascribing every good and perfect gift, 
 as well as the fruits of it, to God alone. 
 
 At Broughton meeting on first-day I was reminded of 
 those assemblies formerly whereof it was said, that the 
 power of the Lord was present to heal the gathered people. 
 I thought I clearly perceived that there was yet balm in 
 Gilead, that there was yet a physician there ; and under 
 these impressions, in my brief way, I had to invite the 
 sick, the maimed, the halt, and the blind to come and be 
 cured of their respective maladies. 
 
 No. 104. To JOSEPU GURNEY. 
 
 1824, 10 mo. 27. — In a select opportunity, a little before 
 we parted from tiiy nephew, I found myself unexpectedly 
 arrested, somewhat as thou describest thyself, in an inter- 
 view with William Allen, soon after the death of his 
 lovely, beloved, and only child. I was indeed a good deal 
 broken ; a thing with me of not very frequent occurrence 
 but which I never regret ; — because the heart of man, I 
 will not say mine exclusively, knowing thou dost not like 
 much speaking of ourselves, even on the subject of humi- 
 liation, and I really cannot defend it ; — I therefore content 
 myself with querying if, in despite of the melting of fire, 
 the stroke of the hammer, or the hewino- of the sword, the 
 human heart has not still a tendency to petrifaction — a 
 sort of gravitating principle towards that rock of adamant, 
 whence it may again and again have been detached by one 
 
186 
 
 or all the powerful operations alluded to ? May it not then 
 be necessary that these be occasionally repeated, lest we 
 should unhappily return to our original cold, hard, and 
 insensible state, " an evil heart of unbelief" ? 
 
 We, elders, may apprehend there is cause for gratitude, 
 when these breakings in upon us happen eitlier in our pri- 
 vate retirements or in the presence of few and chosen wit- 
 nesses, that the dear children and little ones be neither 
 offended nor discouraged ; but by seeing our abasement as 
 respects ourselves, I think we may be thankful for these 
 as among the appointed means, which, in the ordering of 
 Providence, are dispensed for our furtherance in the great 
 work of sanctilication and redemption. 
 
 No. 105. To Sarah Squire. 
 
 1824, 10 mo. 28. — Under a renewed and lively sense of 
 the many difficulties and dangers attendant on our pilgrim- 
 age through this world, and the certainty, if left to our- 
 selves, of our falling by some of them, or by the joint pres- 
 sure of them all, which at seasons, like a flood, threatens 
 to overwhelm us ; — under an exercise thus produced on my 
 own account, for I also am still a son of tribulation, I 
 have been afresh led to crave of the " Father of mercies, 
 and God of all comfort," that He would be graciously 
 pleased to grant preservation, not only to myself, but to 
 thee, and to all those of his children and servants, who, 
 notwithstanding their unworthiness, are yet of his family, 
 and it may be for the trial of their faith and patience, are 
 with us still deeply afflicted. I have begged that in an 
 especial manner He would send help from his sanctuary, 
 and strengthen these out of Zion, in those cases of extre- 
 
187 
 
 nilty, when nothing less than his appearing, though in his 
 own way and time, on their behalf, can avail them anything, 
 being brought to an utter despair of their own efforts, and 
 in the very depths of self-abasement aud humiliation pre- 
 pared to adopt the language of the Psalmist, " Unless the 
 Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it ; un- 
 less the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in 
 vain." 
 
 In thus pouring forth my petitions to the Preserver of 
 men, and commending myself and my dear friends to his 
 holy care and protection, I have found some relief by the 
 renewal of a hope that, after all He has done for some of 
 us, He will not now suffer us to perish ; but though He 
 may even prove us as He proved his faithful Abraham, or 
 try us as He tried his afflicted servant, whose pathetic 
 query thou hast been ready to adopt, " Why died I not ?" 
 yet it is not his intention, nor consistent with his promises, 
 finally to forsake us: — for, said the apostle James, in di- 
 rect allusion to the diversified experience of this very man, 
 " Ye have heard of the patience of Job, and have seen the 
 end of the Lord : that the Lord is very pitiful, and of 
 tender mercy." 
 
 I have also been renewedly confirmed and comforted by 
 reading 2 Cor. iv., from which, and from an attentive peru- 
 sal of the whole of that Epistle, we may see how marvellous 
 were the dealings ot the Most High in the sufferings, exer- 
 cises, abasements, and deliverances of his most tried, yet 
 most favoured c^ ' Iren, the early converts to Christianity. 
 
 Thou and I ha\ e communed on these subjects heretofore, 
 but as they still seem deeply to concern us, we may revive 
 them again with the view, the allowable view I trust, of 
 strengthening and building each other up in " our most 
 
188 
 
 holy faith," the trials of which He, wlio doubtless for some 
 good end permits them, — He, and He only knowetli the 
 number, the nature, and the depth. But what a consola- 
 tion that we have an Advocate with the Father, who seeth 
 us altogether as we are, who is touched with a feeling of 
 our infirmities, and having been tempted like unto us, 
 knows how to succour us in all our temptations ! 
 
 No. 106. To J. AND H. C. Backhouse. 
 
 1824, 11 mo. 25. — I lately passed a day at Lynn 
 Monthly Meeting with your father and mother, J. and J. 
 G., very satisfactorily to myself. On a retrospect of this 
 sweet interview, I have been ready thus to soliloquize. 
 O religion, amidst all thy charms, thy benefits, and thy 
 blessings, how inestimable are thy friendsliips ! If our 
 poor, fallen, and degraded nature has any feelings better 
 than the rest, they must surely be the social, but how are 
 these exalted and refined by the influence of Christian 
 principles. 
 
 No. 107. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1824, 12 mo. 3. — I seldom contemplate the life and 
 writings of the apostle Paul but with a mixture of won- 
 der, sympathy, and delight, and even in my present views 
 of them am ready to exclaim, 0 Christianity, how do 
 thy realities exceed the very fictions of romance ! Thou 
 art indeed the potent alcliymist, who changest human 
 rockwork into man ; nor dost thou stop here, but after 
 having thus converted him, by a furtlier transmutation, 
 peculiarly thy own, thou refinest him as silver is refined, and 
 
189 
 
 t'rlest him as gold is tried, until, as tlie operations of thy 
 furnace are submitted to, he at length cometh forth more 
 pure than fine gold, yea, than the golden wedge of Ophir. 
 
 Having mentioned prayer, though there is not among 
 my religious acquaintance an individual to whom I should 
 consider the recommendation of this duty more superfluous; 
 yet on the very delicate subject thou hast hinted at, a re- 
 newal of thy domestic comfort, a thing which in the Lord's 
 way and time I think is to be devoutly wished ; — on this 
 important question I was about to say, that if by any 
 means a more than ordinary depth and fervency in prayer 
 can be come at, it is surely wanted here. For it has 
 seemed to me that it is not so difficult even rightly to 
 petition for another or for the whole world as for our- 
 selves. Self-love in one shape or other, and I have thought 
 in no case more likely than the present, is so apt to be- 
 wilder us, and to insinuate itself into the most secret re- 
 cesses, or if we may use the expression, into the very 
 sanctuary of our hearts : — so that, especially when looking 
 with allowable desire towards the highest favours a gra- 
 cious Providence bestows, it may be needful for us in 
 the first place to ask for wisdom, understanding, and self- 
 renunciation, in order that we may prefer our petitions for 
 the things we think we stand in need of with proper sub- 
 serviency to the Divine will, 
 
 I stopped over first-day at Downham to my satisfaction, 
 
 though the family in which I passed most of my time was 
 
 in a stase of suspense, I might almost say of mourning. 
 
 Poor J. D. appeared to me to be quite in the latter stage 
 
 of life, and 1 find by a letter from his sister H. C. that 
 
 his weakness has increased since I was there. To behold 
 r 
 
 a fine young man, in defiance of human efforts, encircled 
 
190 
 
 by those to whom I find he has greatly endeared himself, 
 thus gradually declining was truly affecting ; and I never 
 remember being more struck with the force of those 
 Scriptural figures which compare frail humanity to wither- 
 ing grass, fading flowers, or a vapour that appeareth for a 
 little while, and then vanisheth away, &c. O Time ! if 
 thou wert our all, if our hopes and our prospects ended 
 with thee, then might the stoutest heart and the loftiest 
 spirit sink into utter dismay. But thanks be to God ! 
 this is not our unhappy case ; a better inheritance, a more 
 enduring substance, a house not made with hands, a city 
 which hath foundations ; in a word, a mansion in the 
 heavens is in reserve for all those who by patient con- 
 tinuance in well-doing seek for glory, honour, and im- 
 mortality. 
 
 No. 108. To Sarah A. Harris. 
 
 1824, 12 mo. 6. — How refined are the enjojTnents and 
 how extensive are the resources of the mind ! Over these 
 time and place, with all their attendant vicissitudes, seem 
 to have comparatively but little power. This observation 
 holds, I think, in a very considerable degree throughout 
 all that really deserves the name of friendship ; whilst, if 
 I am not mistaken, it is found to be true in a still larger 
 sense in the important concerns of religion ; from whose 
 sun of riahteousness, the beams of light ineffable are found 
 to pervade alike the palace and the prison ; from whose 
 fountain of living waters refreshment extends to every 
 heart prepared to receive them, whether the subject be an 
 inhabitant of the lone land, as thy friend, or of the city 
 
191 
 
 full, whether he be cast on tlie wild or the ocean, or en- 
 joying the highest privilege of man, he be found in the 
 solemn assembly of the Lord's visibly gathered people. 
 
 I am aware that I am addressing one but lately entered 
 on that stage of life which is generally thought to promise 
 the most of human happiness. But I never can think that 
 this happiness is lessened by a true estimate of its nature, 
 which appears to me to be at once dependent and contin- 
 gent. If it be asked upon what ? My reply is, upon 
 the will and wisdom of that Power which formed and 
 rules the world, under whose protection and authority 
 only, though these are often inscrutably administered, is 
 there to be found either peace or security, the foundation 
 of happiness, for any of us. 
 
 No. 109. To J. AND H. C. Backhouse. 
 
 J 824, 12 mo. 13. — I can scarcely forbear mentioning that 
 dear H.'s expressions of thanksgiving on the death of your 
 child, has reminded me forcibly of the apostolic exliorta- 
 tion, " Rejoice evermore, and in everything give thanks." 
 It has reminded me also of my own experience under a 
 similar trial, when after watching for several days the ill- 
 ness of my oldest daughter, who nearly fourteen years ago 
 died at Selby, of water in the head, at the age of fifteen, the 
 disorder at length reached a crisis, wherein it was thought 
 best for me to leave the sick-room : I did so, but could 
 not be easy without returning. This procured for me an 
 intelhgent and seraphic smile, for she was speechless, ob- 
 served only by myself ; but which I would not have 
 missed for any consideration in ray power. I then again 
 
192 
 
 ahd finally left her ; and in a few minutes afterwards 
 being informed that she had ceased to breathe, was sud- 
 denly enabled alone, and amidst a flood of natiire's tears, 
 to utter this short ejaculation, " I thank Thee, Father." 
 
 I cannot tell what those who consider reason as the 
 only guide and chief good of man would make of such 
 conduct as this. I think it was not an effect of leaning to 
 my own understanding ; and certainly not to my own in- 
 clination ; for I would willingly have kept my child, upon 
 whom, after the decease of her mother, I had placed much 
 expectation and hope, which she seemed likely to realise. 
 To what then must we ascribe this ? Perhaps to the in- 
 fluence of that Spirit which helpeth our infirmities ; and 
 which, surmounting nature, teaches us not only to pray, 
 but to praise and return thanks aright. What indeed 
 short of this gentle yet powerful agency, can bring such 
 poor creatures as we are to adopt in sincerity and truth 
 this pious sentiment of Young, " for all we bless Thee, 
 most for the severe." 
 
 No. 110. To Sarah Sqciee. 
 
 1825, 1 mo. 15. — How desirable it is that under any 
 ministrj-, " the heart of the righteous should not be made 
 sad, whom the Lord would not make sad," nor " the hands 
 of the disobedient strengthened by promising him life!" 
 And in order that this may not take place, it does seem 
 very needful, that the hearer, no less than the preacher, 
 keep close to the heavenly gift or guide, that so the word 
 delivered may not only be dispensed aright, but received 
 aright, and by those only to whom it belongs. For I be- 
 lieve it is by the application of the Spirit bearing witness 
 
193 
 
 with our spirits, that either reading or ministry is made 
 useful to us, whether it be in the way of reproof, instruc- 
 tion, or comfort. It is then very needful for us to guard 
 against judging ourselves, favourably or unfavourably, 
 because here the busy enemy is almost sure to insinuate 
 himself into our reasonings, and either lift us up, cast us 
 down, or grievously perplex and distract us, as our hopes, 
 our fears, or our imaginations may afiFord him the oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 I am indeed thankful when permitted to partake of 
 " the crumbs and this was so much the case on the 
 morning I received thy letter, that the whole contents of 
 my heart seemed to be compressed into these short, but 
 deeply-felt ejaculations. Lord, save me ! save my dear 
 children ! save thy afflicted ones, wherever they are ! I 
 beseech Thee ! 
 
 No. 111. To H. C. Backhouse. 
 
 1825, 3 mo. 18. — When by a course of exercise neither 
 the most shallow nor gratifying, I am introduced into 
 humiliation, my thoughts sometimes revert to thee as to 
 one with whom I may commune sweetly, (for even bitter 
 things are sweet in connexion with Jesus,) yet sadly, first, 
 on the sorrows and sufferings of the dear Redeemer; next, 
 on our own, and then perhaps on those of our sincere, yet 
 unworthy fellow-travellers heavenward. For without lay- 
 ing claim to pre-eminence in this particular — unworthy 
 in their own sight, I think all must be, when from this 
 lower world they only contemplate as through a distant 
 and obscure vision, that perfection of beauty and of holi- 
 
 K 
 
194 
 
 ness, before the immediate eflPulgence whereof eren angels 
 are said to veil their faces. 
 
 We are sometimes told that it is not good to say much 
 of our unworthiness, &c., lest we thereby discourage 
 those who from the infancy of their experience may be 
 comjiared to children or little ones. Undoubtedly a care 
 is requisite not only on this account, but that we may not 
 get into a superficial habit amounting to little more than 
 the image or affectation of humility ; and yet as there are 
 times and seasons for all thincrs, so I believe there are oc- 
 casions when those who " fear the Lord and think upon 
 his name," may, as in former times, speak together on any 
 subject connected w-ith their allegiance to Him, their love 
 one towards another, or their mutual edification. And it 
 may ])ossibly come under some of these descriptions to be 
 now and then convinced by a little insight into a compa- 
 nion's secret path, even should it be a tribulated one, that 
 we are not, as perhaps we had in low seasons imagined, 
 alone, and that nothing has befallen us that is not common 
 to man, or that is not probably at the present moment 
 being fulfilled in others of our brethren and sisters who 
 are in this world. 
 
 Xo. 112. To J. J. GUKXEY. 
 
 1825, 6 mo. 20. — I find the enemy of peace seems yet 
 at work to disquiet and unsettle my mind, both by true 
 and false suggestions. One of the former description 
 which presses me the hardest at present is, the very small 
 part I am taking, or can take, in those distinguished works 
 of religion, justice, and humanity which so strongly mark 
 
195- 
 
 the present day ; and that therefore, after all I have seen, 
 heard, or felt, there is considerable danger of my being 
 ultimately classed either with the fearful and unbelieving, 
 or with the slothful servants. 
 
 In answer to this, I plead not with my adversary, but 
 at the footstool of mercy, the spiritual impossibility of my 
 going with any prospect of advantage, or indeed without 
 danger, beyond my measure, or out of the line prescribed 
 to me, however limited this may be, as well as the physi- 
 cal difficulty of declining years. Thus impressed, I beg, 
 with humble and earnest solicitude I trust, that although 
 I may not be able to assist Martha in her much-serving, 
 the part of Mary may never be taken from me. Ah ! my 
 dear friend, whatever thou mayst approve or disapprove 
 in me, join me, if thou canst, in desiring that at a season 
 when weary nature sighs for repose, this part, this blessed 
 part may never be taken from me. 
 
 No. 113. To J. AND J. Glknev. 
 
 Selbi/, 1825, 7 mo. 4. — I may just now be the better 
 qualified to address you in particular with a salutation of 
 love and of peace, from experiencing, after a season of con- 
 flicting feelings, a degree of quietness and confidence re- 
 stored to my often-agitated heart. Ah ! my valued fel- 
 low-travellers, how is it that some of us so frequently find 
 occasion to query with ourselves as David did, " Why art 
 thou cast down, 0 my soul?" but the why and the 
 wherefore are doubtless wisely hid from us, and it remains 
 for us with the Psalmist to hope in God, and to let our 
 expectation be only from Him ; but how difficult some- 
 
 K 2 
 
196 
 
 times is this lesson ! I am not, ho'wever, disposed to 
 complain of this or any other difficulty, but rather to be 
 thankful for the door of hope, which I have once more 
 found as in the valley of Achor, or shall I say in a state 
 of humiliation and prayer ? 
 
 I am now seated on the banks of the Ouse, in my son's 
 new establishment, just upon a fine turn of that river. 
 From the windows, though the country is flat, we have 
 some picturesque scenery, composed of both natural and 
 artificial objects. Of the fonner, green banks, cattle, pine- 
 wood, and water ; and amongst the latter, shipping, a 
 good bridge, warehouses, cranes, commerce, the activity of 
 a port, and as a countryman may be allowed to say, " the 
 varied lumber of a town," which may do for a change, 
 but for him it would not do always. 
 
 No. il4. To J. AXD K. Foster. 
 
 182.5, 7 fno. 11. — It need not surprise us, if a friendship, 
 disinterested as I think ours has been from its commence- 
 ment, should be rather mellowed than impaired by time ; 
 or in other words, if that love which began in natural 
 affinities and associations, should be improved by some- 
 thing better : and that if we are favoured to grow in 
 grace, the operation of this sublime principle will not only 
 add to, but ratify and purify every amiable and good dis- 
 position whereof we are capable, of which love to God 
 and love to each other will be acknowledged to stand 
 foremost. And judging by the tenderness with which of 
 later time I often remember you, in connexion with the 
 great uncertainty of our all meeting again in mutability, I 
 have thought it possible that the feelings to which I have 
 
197 
 
 alluded may not only exist, but have an infinite expansion 
 beyond the grave. I am aware, however, that this is 
 among the secret things which it is not given us in our 
 present state to know ; yet the contemplation is so delight- 
 ful to the Christian, and the hope so prevalent in the 
 breast wherein at seasons hope deigns to make its abode, 
 that it is difficult, and I trust not necessary, to dismiss 
 either one or the other entirely from our minds. 
 
 I have mentioned hope, by which I mean the hope 
 which maketh not ashamed, and which rests entirely on 
 the mercy of God in Christ Jesus, as an occasional rather 
 than a constant visitant, for such indeed I find it. Yes, 
 my dear friends, to you I am free to confess that there are 
 times when a remembrance of the sins of my youth, a 
 sense of present infirmities, and a feeling of utter unvvor- 
 thiness of Divine regard, so press upon me, tliat whilst I 
 cannot hope, I feel it to be too awful a thing to despair. 
 Thus circumstanced, I find the only alternative to be, wait- 
 ing in as much stillness as I can, and watching unto 
 prayer, for the return of that morning light, before which 
 the mists of the night flee away ; and which, as patience 
 has been sufficiently abode in, has never yet, and I trust 
 never will, deceive or disappoint me, though I may some- 
 times, at least according to my own limited conceptions, 
 have had to wait long. 
 
 I express myself on this important subject with the 
 greater freedom, because of the humble spiritual views 
 which I believe you entertain of yourselves, — because of 
 those castings down and disquietings whereof David 
 speaks, and to which the weight of years may make you 
 increasingly subject ; and lastly, because of my own expe- 
 rience in these deep humiliations ; — being at the present 
 
198 
 
 juncture just emerging from one of those darksome 
 plunges to which I have alluded, and from which, had I 
 not been thus favoured a little to ascend, it is not probable 
 you would now have heard from me. As it is, and I 
 hope you will be enabled to rejoice with me, I have been 
 enabled to adopt, as a morning hymn of thanksgiving 
 and praise, much of the beautiful language of the one 
 lumdred and third Psalm, which you will find on perusal 
 to be full of consolation and encouragement to the exer- 
 cised mind. 
 
 No. 115. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 Selby, 1825, 8 mo. 16. — How sweet is the balm of 
 friendship ; and what a blessing is a friend ! are expres- 
 sions which have almost spontaneously arisen, on turning 
 my mind towards one with whom I sometimes divide its 
 comforts, and ofttimes its cares. And though there may 
 be a great deal of selfishness in the apportionment, yet am 
 I not thereby much discouraged ; for being no stoic, and I 
 fear but a very imperfect Christian, I am quite willing to 
 confess myself a poor, selfish creature, standing in need 
 not only of Divine assistance, but of the sympathy and 
 prayers of my fellow-members in the church. But even 
 this view, though it humbles, does not afflict me ; for if 
 we are favoured to reach those happy shores to which we 
 profess to be bound, it shall not matter to how many helps 
 we have been indebted, or how many mortifications we 
 have met with in the course of our voyage. Indeed the 
 very circumstances of Divine strength having been mani- 
 fested in such utter weakness, and the most perfect attri 
 butes being exalted in and over such manifold infirmities. 
 
199 
 
 may possibly in a glorified state compose the ecstatic 
 theme of our loftiest anthems, swell the notes of praise, 
 and lend to our celestial harps their sweetest and their 
 loudest tones. 
 
 This is not, I think, a flight of fancy, but an effusion of 
 genuine feeling, produced by the changes in which I have 
 been involved since I last wrote to thee, which was from 
 this house. I was then participating, with much satisfac- 
 tion, in the happiness of my children. Within about the 
 last three weeks, I have been summoned to attend the 
 funerals of two nieces, their maternal first-cousins. 
 
 The first of these affecting cases was of Mary, the wife 
 of Joseph Burtt, of Welbourn, who has left an afflicted 
 husband and nine children. In her, nature was exhausted, 
 but she appeared to die in sweet peace ; and the prevail- 
 ing impression on my mind respecting her was, that al- 
 though a poor, emaciated body was left us for a moment 
 to mourn over, yet her immortal spirit was assuredly as- 
 cended to that God, who had in wisdom sent it hither, and 
 in mercy called it home. Her character in life was much 
 retired, — a flower that bluslied unseen ; but to the very 
 few who had an opportunity of viewing it closely, and 
 who could appreciate hidden worth, it was one of the 
 fairest hue and sweetest fragrance. 
 
 The other instance was in Mary, wife of "William Massey, 
 jun., of this place, who after a few days of not very confining 
 illness, was suddenly snatched as from the arms of her 
 husband and an infant of about eight months old. She 
 was interred here last first-day, a great concourse of neigh- 
 bours, by Avhom she was respected, and many friends from 
 York, &c., attending on the occasion. Among the latter 
 were W. and A, A., and it proved, I thought, a day of 
 
200 
 
 much favour, both immediate and instrumental. I never 
 remember hearing religion placed at once in a more lovely 
 and important point of view. It reminded me of the in- 
 vitation to " the poor, the maimed, and the blind," which 
 was to compel them to a feast of fat things. Forgetting 
 for the time all obstructions and excuses, I was ready to 
 say in my heart. Surely none can refuse such gracious offers 
 of mercy. But alas ! alas ! Leviathan is not so tamed, is 
 not so charmed ; yet though this may appear to be the 
 case generally, we are not to conclude that our labours in 
 the Gospel are in vain. I think there is much encourage- 
 ment to believe otherwise from the language of the Most 
 High by his prophet, " My word shall not return unto 
 me void ; but it shall accomplish that which I please, and 
 shall prosper in that whereto I send it." 
 
 No. 116. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1825, 8 mo. 22. — If thou regard this letter in all its 
 parts, as I think thou must, as a true portrait of a feeble 
 old man, I need not give thee any further account of my 
 present state, than just to say that were it not for grace 
 within and the Scriptures without, I seem as if I must 
 yet sink : but thus supported, what may not even such an 
 one hope ! I was last evening much comforted and encou- 
 raged by hearing my son read in his family the first six 
 chapters in the second to the Corinthians. What love 
 and sympathy at this distance of time we sometimes feel 
 for eminent Scripture characters ! I think mine runs the 
 strongest towards Paul and David, always reserving an 
 unmeasured and indescribable portion for the once-suft'er- 
 ing, now glorified Redeemer, to whom witli the Father be 
 
201 
 
 all lionoiir, thanksgiving, and praise, in time and in eter- 
 nity ! 
 
 No. 117- To Sarah Squire. 
 
 1825, 9 mo. 22. — Since I last wrote to thee, indeed for 
 nearly the last twelvemonths, I have had but little entire 
 rest for body or niiud, which as I have often been sensible 
 of weariness, may possibly in some degree have weakened 
 both one and the other. But this is a thing of minor con- 
 sequence; and I think it a favour to be permitted to de- 
 scend the hill so gently, and if I may but be further 
 allowed to pass the dark valley at the bottom of it in 
 safety, it will be a still greater mercy. 
 
 Of my various excursions within the passing year, none 
 have seemed to require credentials from my friends ; and 
 yet I think 1 may truly say, they have not been under- 
 taken from mere motives of self-gratification ; and 1 liope 
 it has been my uniform endeavour to consecrate them in 
 some degree by an attention to the feeling of sympathy or 
 the ]X)intings of duty, whenever I could discern them, and 
 both one and the other were I thought at times vouch- 
 safed to me, especially in the more hidden and private 
 cases of afflicted individuals, of which number, under 
 varioiis circumstances of trial, 1 found several in the course 
 of my peregrinations, tending to confirm me in a sentiment, 
 the truth of which I might have long since sufficiently 
 known, that life is a pilgrimage, and not a rest. How 
 many are there, up and down, who are daily experiencing 
 the fulfilment of their dear Redeemer's assurance, that in 
 the world they shall have trouble ! May they also witness 
 
 K 5 
 
202 
 
 Ilim to overcome the world in them, and for them, — for 
 truly beside* Him there is no Saviour. 
 
 No. 118. To Sarah Squire. 
 
 1825, 10 mo. 22. — 'After endeavouring to do the best 
 we can in providing for, educating, and placing them out, 
 we must leave our children to the Lord and their own con- 
 duct ; as after all our labours, and with the Divine bless- 
 ing upon these labours, they may if they will, as some 
 unhappily do, forsake their own mercies, and pursue a 
 wrong course. Yet this consideration does not supersede 
 tlie discharge of parental duty ; — but it should, I think, 
 tend to lessen unprofitable solicitude and vain anticipations 
 of things, that may, or may not ever happen ; and whether 
 they do or do not, are quite beyond our control. So that 
 after doing, more than thinking, what we can for our be- 
 loved oflfspring, and as every pious parent is concerned to 
 do, commending them to the care of Israel's unslumbering 
 Shepherd ; there and to their own determinations we must 
 finally leave them. Thou mayst perceive how much stress 
 I lay upon the right exercise of man's free agency ; for 
 though it is true that mercy is infinite, and its offers may 
 be often repeated, yet no man is compelled to accept them : 
 he that will not, shall not inherit the kingdom. 
 
 Strong and lively impression is often made by very few 
 words, so that if we know how to extract it, we shall some- 
 times find the essence of long letters, long discourses, and 
 large volumes is comprised in a very small portion of each. 
 Do not however mistake me, if I can remember or digest 
 but little at a time, others maj-^ have stronger powers ; and 
 
203' 
 
 as it respects religious communications, one tiling is cer- 
 tain, that the attributes of the Most High and the myste- 
 ries of his redeeming love are inexhaustible themes. 
 
 Having been helped hitherto, let us be thankful for mer- 
 cies past, and humbly hope for more ; rejoicing, if we can, 
 in our present lot, and in everything giving thanks. This 
 may be, and I believe often is, a difficult attainment ; yet 
 it is not impossible, through the aid of Him who is touched 
 with a feelino- of our infirmities ; and for his assistance it 
 is our business to watch and to pray continually. I think 
 I never recollect feeling more truly thankful in the re- 
 membrance even of affliction and trials, as means of hum- 
 bling my proud and corrupt heart, than just when I was 
 about to enter a meeting at Sutton the other day, which 
 finished my little concerns in that neighbourhood, and re- 
 turned me to Gedney, with a portion of sweet and most 
 unmerited peace. Ah ! how unworthy is man ! but how 
 inconceivably and eternally worthy is his Creator and his 
 Redeemer of all glory, adoration, and praise ! 
 
 No. 119. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 ]})25, 11 mo. 19. — Thou knowest how insulated my 
 situatif)n is as to the outward, and it is often e<jually so 
 within ; so that there are seasons wherein I seem cut off, 
 or shut up from all tliat lives. Still even in this impri - 
 soned situation, I have looked towards the Lord's holy 
 habitation with desire, and towards his people with love. 
 
 Thou hast alluded in one of thy letters to the trials 
 peculiar to Gospel ministers. One thing I find under all, 
 that my attachment to my friends of this class becomes 
 
204 
 
 increasingly strong and tender, and either in kind or de- 
 gree, very different to what I was accustomed to feel 
 whilst only in the office of an elder. I honour faithful 
 elders, and tliink they are useful in religious society, in 
 reproving, informing, and perhaps encouraging us ; yet 
 there are sympathies towards each other, of which ice only 
 seem to be capable. 
 
 It is sometimes my experience to feel deeply for such of 
 my dear friends in the ministry as may be said to be xmder 
 their probation ; or having passed this stage, are yet under 
 circumstances too nearly approaching those described by 
 the apostle, 1 Cor. iv. 9 — 13. Such individuals I am ac- 
 quainted with ; and I feel desirous not only for them, but 
 for myself and all our fellows, that we may not only be 
 willing, when thereunto called, to enter into these humili- 
 ations, but to abide patiently under them for the allotted 
 season : that being thus crucified with Christ — is it not 
 crucifixion ? — we may know what it is to rise with Him. 
 I am sometimes even tliankful that a part in this ministry, 
 however limited, has been, as I trust, committed to me, 
 that so I might be permitted to partake with those of 
 larger sifts in their tribulations, and not in their tribula- 
 tions only, but in their consolations also. For although it 
 be indeed true that the former of these do often abound, 
 yet let us not be so ungrateful as to forget that the latter 
 do much more abound, through Jesus Christ our Lord, to 
 the glory of God the Father. 
 
 No. 120. To J. J. GuRNiCY. 
 
 1825, 12 mo. 12. — The impression — and it is not a 
 superficial one — which I have received from being in- 
 
205 
 
 formed of thy being about an immediate commencement 
 of renewed Gospel engagement is, that thou art going 
 forth, if not literally weeping, at least in a disposition 
 which entitles the obedient and faithful servant to take en- 
 couragement from the language of Psalm xxvi. verses 't 
 and 6 : " I have hated the congregation of evil doers ; and 
 will not sit with the wicked. I will wash mine hands in 
 innoceiicy : so will I compass thine altar, O Lord." Through 
 humble watchfulness, and the mercy of Him wlio hath 
 called and redeemed us by his own blood, may these sus- 
 taining assurances be verified in the experience of my dear 
 friend, who may rest also certain of any remembrances of 
 mine that can possibly avail him. 
 
 Dear A. .ind his near connexions ! We may feel for, 
 yet cannot help them, but by our sympathy and our 
 prayers : such is the lot of humanity : —and " so vain," 
 as I understand thy two emphatic words to mean, is any 
 wish of ours to reverse the irrevocable sentence inscribed 
 upon all terrestrial enjoyments ; or with fallacious hopes 
 to lay the foundations of a continuing city here : so true 
 it is, they build too low, who build beneath the skies. 
 We are also frequently reminded, and is it not a consoling 
 and instructive memento, that 
 
 " 'Tis immortality — 'tis that alone, 
 Amid life's pains— abasements— emptiness. 
 The soul can comfort, elevate, and till. ' 
 
 No. 121. To J. J. GURNEV. 
 
 182t), 1 mo. 26. — A token of thy continued remembrance 
 and regard could scarcely have been more welcome than 
 
206 
 
 was the one which I received from thee within the last few 
 days. By the side of those " rivers" where I am often 
 stationed, with my harp on tlie Avillows, ready to weep for 
 myself and the little captive church to which I am so 
 closely attached, — here thy letter found me, and having 
 no song of my own, save the hidden and passive one of 
 resignation, I had concluded to beguile my solitude by 
 reading and contemplating the prosaic melody of thy 
 " Essays." Whilst thus employed, Rachel opened the 
 door of my parlour with thy messenger in her hand : 
 could there be a nicer coincidence ? perhaps it was useful 
 too, for though my situation was tranquil, yet probably I 
 had been sailino- long enough dotcn the stream, and it 
 might be time for me to bring to and endeavour to feel for 
 the bottom. Ah ! how much oftener than the returning 
 morning have we need, both in auspicious and adverse 
 gales, to cast anchor on the " Rock of Ages !" Canst 
 thou understand a language which half the world would 
 call mysticism and nonsense ? I believe thou hast thyself 
 been long enough acquainted with this " foolishuess," (for 
 " we see our calling,") to understand it perfectly. 
 
 How sweetly, as thy expressions and my own feelings 
 jjersuade me, do we unite in the love one of another, and 
 t>f that principle which can make everything but wilful 
 contraries assimilate and harmonize ! — I say wilf ul, because 
 though the principle whereof we speak is able to subdue 
 all things unto itself ; yet man being a free agent, it does 
 not force him, but finally leaves him to his own destiny. 
 However, therefore, we may lament over the opposers of 
 this Divine grace, or however humble our views maybe of 
 its professed advocates, yet surely the thing itself possesses 
 an excellence that would exhaust panegyric and is beyond 
 
207 
 
 all human estimation. So that with much reason indeed 
 did the apostle exclaim, " Thanks be to God for his un- 
 speakable gift !" Here I would observe that it was more 
 than a little cheering to me to find that amidst all tliat 
 surrounds and attends thee, thou wast still so lively in 
 commendation of this true faith or grace wherein we 
 stand, and so warmly attached to that catholic and uni- 
 versal church which is built upon it. My heart responds 
 to thine in the descriptive eulogy of this church as ex- 
 pressed by the sweet siuger of Israel, " Beautiful for 
 situation, the joy of the whole earth, is mount Zion, on 
 the sides of the north, the city of the great King : — God. 
 is known in her palaces for a refuge," &c. 
 
 No. 122. To Sarah Squire. 
 
 1826, 1 mo. 31. — As the time for the departure of 
 
 draws very near, I find myself not easy to let her 
 
 go without a written message of my love, accompanied by 
 the assurance not only of my continued remembrance, but 
 of my present desires, that the Father of mercies and the 
 God of all comfort may have thee and thine, and me aud 
 mine under His holy care and keeping. 
 
 Ah ! how much do we owe to this Divine Providence 
 which watcheth over us by day and by nigiit, not only 
 feeding and clothing us, not only preserving us from 
 violent and sudden death, and all the greater calamities 
 incident to our present state ; but in an invisible and in- 
 comprehensible manner surrounding our path and our bed, 
 and ordering minor things for us, beyond all we could ask 
 or think. This is a slight sketch of my present faith, very 
 
208 
 
 hastily expressed ; should it prove like one of those tran- 
 sient interviews which w"e sometimes compare to iron 
 sharpening iron, my end will be answered. 
 
 Xo. 123. To JOSEI'H GURNEY. 
 
 1826, 3 mo. 3. — I believe I just hinted at the satisfac- 
 tion with which I remembered my visit to Cromer. In 
 this retrospect nothino- pleases me more than to view as 
 we saw her, and as thou hast told me is her frequent prac- 
 tice, thy dear companion reading her Bible before break- 
 fast ; or to imagine thee, with a mind perhaps equally 
 meditative, taking at that salubrious hour a walk for the 
 benefit of thy health. Whether I see thee ascending the 
 bare hill, taking thy stand upon tlie still more exposed 
 cliff to contemplate the wonders of sea and sky ; or re- 
 turning through groves of thy own planting to thy cottage 
 home, my visionary prospect is generally associated with 
 a portion of verse which I copied more than forty years 
 ago, and which agreeing as I have found it does with ex- 
 periencc, pleases and instructs me to the present day. 
 Should these lines, as I think they may, excite corres- 
 ponding feelings in thy mind, I perhaps shall do some- 
 thing more than blot my paper by transcribing them for 
 thy perusaL After describing beautifully various objects 
 of sight and sound which formed the immediate scene of 
 his musings, the author says, 
 
 " Much on the imperfect state of man I have mused : 
 How paiu o'er half his lioui's her iron reign 
 Ruthless extends. How pleasure from the path 
 Of innocence allures his steps. How hope 
 
209 
 
 Fixes his eye on future joy that flies 
 His fond pursuit. How fear his shuddering heart 
 Alai-ms with fancied ill. How doubt and care 
 Perplex his thought. How soon the tender rose 
 Of beauty fades ; the sturdy oak of strength 
 Declines to earth, and over all our pride 
 Stern time triumphant stands." — John Scott. 
 
 I do not know that we set an equal value on this sort 
 of composition, of which when I find it, as I now and 
 then do, at least according to my own views, needlessly 
 disparaged, I venture to avow myself the feeble advocate. 
 I have heard of a grave authority on the other side the 
 water, who perhaps uniting a little of the zeal of an 
 ancient puritan with the taste of a modern backwoods- 
 man, would dispose of poetry at once, by driving it out of 
 existence. Now admitting the abuse of poetry, in com- 
 mon with every other good thing, and excepting the 
 most solemn parts of Scripture, I have never read any- 
 thing better in prose than in verse, or worse in the last 
 than the first ; I therefore conclude that they have their 
 appropriate situations and respective advantages in the 
 important business of forming character and regulating 
 manners. 
 
 Whilst thus speculating I am strongly impressed with 
 the following sentiments of our friend Dr. Hancock, " as 
 well might wc suppose a self-moving orb to pass unhurt 
 with a steady course through blazing comets crossing eacli 
 other's path in endless physical disorder, as that a liuniau 
 being in the present scene of moral darkness and perplexity 
 could direct his own steps aright by the natural powers of 
 his own mind, or apply himself effectually, in such a state 
 of infinite confusion, to the duties for which he was designed. 
 
210 
 
 without providential guidance. How consistent then with 
 true philosophy is the sapng that ' a good man's steps are 
 ordered of the Lord'! How consistent with Cliristianity, 
 and the general harmony of the Universe" ! 
 
 We are told that poetry enervates the mind ; by which 
 I understand reduces its natural pride, fierceness, stupidity, 
 and selfishness to a lower standard ; and does not this 
 same human nature want amelioration ? I think it does, 
 seeing that men naturally are so much more disposed to 
 treat their fellows with haughtiness, cruelty, and dissimu- 
 lation, than with the meekness, gentleness, and integrity 
 recommended by the Gospel. I would therefore that the 
 lion were tamed, the bear softened, the ass stimulated, and 
 the fox taught to be less crafty and more honest ; and I 
 am not com^inced by all that I have yet heard that my 
 favourite may not be useful as a means, for all is under 
 grace, in thus changing rude and savage nature into 
 civilized man. 
 
 Here I would hint at a distinction which appears to 
 me to exist between music and poetry ; that the first 
 seems to be confined to the senses and passions, whilst the 
 latter addresses the understanding too ; the first leaves no- 
 thing substantial behind it, the latter, if it be well chosen, 
 much. To give an illustration, if a man can take up our 
 late deal' P. G.'s selection of h}-mns witliout some improve- 
 ment both of his head and his lieart, I should suspect him 
 to be equally deficient in taste, in judgment, in piety. 
 
 No. 124. To H. C. Backhouse. 
 
 1826, 3 mo. 6.— Although, as thou hast hinted, "ima- 
 gination," that domestic enemy to our peace, may some- 
 
211 
 
 times needlessly depress us, and even make the salutary 
 corrections of our Heavenly Father more bitter tlian He 
 intends, yet there is a reality in trouble. Have not I, 
 and, thougli so much younger, hast not thou known that 
 grief and pain are something else than a dream ? Yes, it 
 may not be too much to say that we have been afflicted, 
 bruised, and broken ; but as we have also experienced 
 that arm which is omnipotent to save, stretched out for 
 our help, we have thereby tasted the joy of grief, or to use 
 more sacred language, have been comforted in all our tribula- 
 tions, so that we continue to this day monuments of Divine 
 mercy. The horrible pit has not been suffered to shut its 
 mouth upon us, nor the mire and clay to hold us ; but we 
 have been marvellously delivered, and a new song, even 
 the song of praise and thanksgiving, has been on certain 
 memorable occasions raised in our hearts. 
 
 Still I will not conceal from thee that thou hast judged 
 right in supposing my spiritual dwelling to be often in 
 " the deeps, where there is not much pleasant bread." 
 Here I frequently go mourning all tlie day long, because 
 of the oppression of the enemy, wlio, limited as he is, 
 seems nevertheless to cause much mischief in the eartli ; 
 and if I were asked who among the sons of men were the 
 objects of my solicitude, I perhaps should say the whole 
 human race — myself, my family, the church, and the 
 world, in each of which I am at times made sensible there 
 is cause for such as are qualified to weep, as between the 
 porch and the altar, and to cry, " Spare thy people, thy 
 unworthy creatures, O liord ! " 
 
 Yet, though this is the case, I am not in despair ; on 
 the contrary, there are seasons when, for each of the 
 classes just mentioned, I can even rejoice, in hope of the 
 
212 
 
 goodness of Him whose compassions fail not — ■whose 
 tender mercies are over all his works — who causeth his 
 sun, both material and intellectual, to rise on the evil and 
 on the good, and the showers of nature and of grace to fall 
 on the just and on the unjust ; or to attempt in few words 
 what many must fail to set forth, the infinite and incal- 
 culable benefits of our gracious Creator : He is kind 
 to tlie unthankful and to the evil. Thus occasionally 
 strengthened, I endeavour to hold on my secret way 
 against the opposition which, though unknown to the 
 world, seems at times to be formidable in its array ; and 
 it is with the view of encouraging thee to persevere in 
 thine, that I am thus commimicative on subjects in 
 which truly there seems little for nature to glory. 
 
 So long as simple preservation is mercifully granted 
 from day to day, we have reasonable ground for hope, 
 and none for utter dismay ; but rather, whatever has 
 heretofore, or may still attend us, we have cause to be 
 thankful, that through grace we are what we are, (poor it 
 may be, yet having our lives given us, as it were, for a 
 prey,) members not only of the Lord's outward and 
 animal, but of his rational, and, as we are now and then 
 favoured to feel, of his spiritual creation. Thus circum- 
 stanced, if we cannot rejoice, let us be thankful. 
 
 Not long since I had an experience somewhat like what 
 has been said of angels' visits, " few and far between" — 
 a song in the night, and, which thou wilt perliaps think 
 rather strange, had for its subject a sweet and unexpected 
 recollection of part of Pope's Universal Prayer : 
 
 "Mean though I am, not wholly so, 
 Since quickened by thy breath ; 
 
213 
 
 0 lead me wheresoe'er I go, 
 Through this day's life or death." 
 
 I cannot easily describe how confirming these lines in 
 particular were of the view I have just been taking, of what 
 may not only be our apprehension respecting our own 
 state of mind, but of many other hidden fellow-travellers, 
 who, in the face of much difficulty, it may be, are endea- 
 vouring to run the race set before them, and through tri- 
 bulation and exercise, are striving to enter the kingdom. 
 
 With regard to the nionied and commercial storm, 
 I can pity those, whether they have been blamable in 
 setting up idols of silver and gold or not, who have been 
 overwhelmed by it ; whilst I congratulate, on the other 
 hand, such as, though not exempt from suffering, have 
 been favoured to escape from ruin. This I think becomes 
 one who, like myself, has known many changes, even in 
 the peaceful and necessary business of agriculture, in 
 which it is true, I have witnessed very prosperous times ; 
 but I have also, and more than once, seen those wherein 
 it could afford little pleasure to the farmer either to see 
 his corn grow or his eattle thrive ; and I have again lived 
 to a crisis which may bring my children into the same 
 unwelcome situation ; for though it has begun higher, 
 it will probably, in its more remote effects, pervade 
 every corner of the land ; indeed, considerable change has 
 already taken place in the value, and great stagnation in 
 the sale, at any price, of the produce of the soil. Still, in 
 our recesses, we are free from some things : — I never knew 
 a mob at Gedney ; but whilst it has pervaded the city, I 
 have hitherto, in the most difficult times, been able to 
 enjoy the privilege of listening to the song of the black- 
 bird, or the gentle murmurs of the wind in the grove. 
 
214 
 
 'ith. — I am inclined to add to what I so diffusely wrote 
 yesterday, a reference to two short portions of the Old 
 Testament Scripture, which in the course of family 
 reading lately arrested my drooping faith, and I think 
 somewhat strengthened it. The passages alluded to may 
 be found at Judges, xiii. 23, and Zephaniah, iii. 12. 
 
 No. 12-5. To Joseph Gtjkney. 
 
 1826, 3 mo. 22. — Both the prose and the verse 
 of thy last letter were very acceptable to me. It was 
 also gratifying to find, that under the favourable circum- 
 stances of having been thinking of me, mine met with a 
 welcome reception, and that thou coiddst discern, amidst 
 the various qualities thou hast ascribed to it, friendship to 
 be the principal ingredient. This is certainly what was 
 intended. 
 
 In reference to thy query, I think the music of instru- 
 ments may be detached from poetry, being quite distinct 
 from the harmony, or, if we please, the time, which per- 
 haps is inseparable from it, and which, under some cir- 
 cumstances, may not only be an agreeable, but a powerful 
 aid to this interesting vehicle of knowledge and of truth. 
 
 I think singing, however, as a religious practice, (if this 
 made a part of thy inquiry,) should be sparingly used, 
 and that it should be under an influence not at our com- 
 mand ; and therefore, perhaps can seldom, if ever, be 
 safely adopted by the whole of a mixed congregation, com- 
 posed of every variety of spiritual condition ; whilst making 
 melody in our hearts to the Lord, when we feel it arise, or 
 the sacred song by night or by day, when such is given 
 
215 
 
 MS, may, I apprehend, be addressed with the spirit and the 
 understanding, and tlie voice also, to Him who qualifies 
 for the service. 
 
 Of merely instrumental music I certainly have a very 
 unfavourable opinion ; much precious time and property, 
 I think, are wasted upon it in modern education ; whilst, 
 as an attendant on worship, my objection to it is quite of 
 a serious kind, as it seems to me to resemble so much 
 those dreams of eating, from whence, when one awakes, 
 his soul has appetite, and to have nothing in it of 
 that process, w-hich, though it originates in tribulation, 
 leads its submissive votary to a hope that maketh not 
 ashamed. 
 
 I am not surprised at her parents feeling much in the 
 
 prospect of their dear leaving them. My love to 
 
 her, and tell her that I wish her as much happiness as she 
 can enjoy, with humble and daily reference to the Author 
 of every blessing, spiritual and temporal. If there is one 
 truth in which I am more confirmed or rejoice more than 
 another, it is in a constantly superintending Providence ; 
 and that nothing deserves the name of happiness, further 
 than as it is held in dependence upon, and with gratitude 
 to Him. 
 
 No. 126. To Sarah Squire. 
 
 1826, 4 mo. 14. — In the whole course of our acquaint- 
 ance and correspondence, nothing strikes me so much as the 
 similarity, as I trust we may call it, of our Christian 
 course, especially as regards its vicissitudes. Thy last 
 letter was, if I understand it, strongly marked by a de- 
 scription of much change in mental feeling and spiritual 
 
216 
 
 condition ; and such, indeed, have been my experiences 
 since I last saw thee. I will not enter into a further 
 detail, than just to say, what I believe thou wilt fully 
 understand, that some of them have been new, and almost 
 awful. 
 
 Ah ! how gladly would nature escape these trying 
 baptisms ! Sometimes in brighter moments we are apt to 
 conclude that the days of our mourning were ended, and 
 that the bitterness of death is passed ; when, so far from 
 finding our self-love realized, we are again " plunged into 
 the ditch," we are again consumed, as by a stroke of the 
 Divine hand. But how mighty, how marvellous, and 
 how merciful is that Power, who though He sees it ex- 
 pedient thus to try and to prove us, has hitherto won- 
 derfully preserved through it all. "We have had, at least 
 I apprehend so, to pass through much of what the apostle 
 describes, 2 Cor. iv. 7 — H ', and yet, though thus dying, 
 behold we live ; and my present faith and hope is, that if, 
 through the assistance of his grace, we persevere, the 
 Lord will preserve us unto his heavenly kingdom, and 
 finally establish us beyond all those things which at pre- 
 sent are, at seasons, found to be so difficult to wade 
 through. Yes, I trust He will vouchsafe to us an expe- 
 rience similar to what the apostle has described in the 
 three concluding verses of the chapter I have already 
 quoted. 
 
 No. 127. To JOSIAH FORSTER. 
 
 1826, 4 «io. 21. — Thou hast "not heard much of me 
 since last Yearly Meeting." The part of the country in 
 which I live having no stones in it, a man may move 
 
217 
 
 about without much noise ; and when I travel in rougher 
 ways, I endeavour to make as little noise as I can well 
 help. But this is only figurative, and to be free and 
 plain, my religious engagements seem to myself to be in 
 various respects comparatively circumscribed. When it 
 pleased Infinite Goudness, of mere unmerited mercy, to be 
 " pacified towards me," for manifold offences and a long 
 course of rebellion, and in unspeakable condescension to 
 command me to endeavour to know the will of God, and to 
 do it, the low valley of humility, not to say of humilia- 
 tion, was pointed out to me as my future dwelling-place, 
 where I must not seek great tilings for myself, either of 
 one kind or another. 
 
 Accordingly, though I trust I have received a part or 
 measure in the ministry of the blessed Gospel, yet it seems 
 confined to an occasional going for a short time and near 
 home, to the incidental attendance of Quarterly or 
 Monthly Meetings of my friends as they are held in course, 
 or which may most of all be my peculiar allotment to sym- 
 pathise with private individuals in their afflictions, and to 
 mourn often in secret over the unfaithful or wandering 
 mind, offering to the afflicted a word of consolation, and 
 to the prodigal a hand of encouragement, whenever I can 
 meet him as on the threshold of repentance. Ah ! how 
 sweet to my soul are the too rare instances of the latter 
 descri])tion ! Having been a stranger in the land of 
 spiritual Egypt, I know the heart of a stranger ; having 
 myself received mercy, I can exhort those who have 
 tasted it to confide therein. 
 
 I. 
 
218 
 
 No. 128. To Sylvanus and Mary Fox. 
 
 1826, 5 mo. 2. — Mingled experience witli various de- 
 grees of alternation is my lot to the present day, and per- 
 haps may continue such to the end of life. Far be it from 
 me, however, to complain. I am and have been, through 
 the whole course of my pilgrimage, dealt with in unutterable 
 mercy ; and if I cannot at all times fulfil the apostolic 
 injunction, to " rejoice evermore, and in everything give 
 tlianks ;" I think, on a calm retrospect, 1 can always bless 
 for the severe, and acknowledge myself, as to spiritual con- 
 cerns, a greater debtor to afflictions than to what are 
 usually considered more prosperous and gratifying dis- 
 pensations. Thus disciplined and prepared by a course of 
 no very short duration, on waking this morning under 
 depressing feelings, I found myself more disposed to 
 cherish than to dissipate them ; and thus waiting, a de- 
 sire became prevalent in my mind, that, whether the rem- 
 nant of my days might be few or many, strength propor- 
 tioned to the increasing weakness of nature might be 
 graciously vouchsafed, and ability afforded to endure 
 whatever of further probation may be permitted to attend 
 the closing scene. Here 1 found not only a degree of 
 relief from the weight of present exercise, but something 
 like a defence against those anticipations, of wliich, though 
 reason miglit teach us the folly, and revelation has put 
 us on our guard, yet amidst all we see, and all we feel, it 
 is so difficult for some of us to keep sufficiently clear : 
 indeed witliout renewals of faith and hope, I apprehend 
 it would to many be utterly impossible. 
 
 Though by comparison I may not be considered very 
 
219 
 
 old, yet I have lived long enough to see most of my early 
 cotemporaries, both in the world and in the church, fall 
 like autumn leaves around me ; I am therefore de- 
 sirous, as far as in me lies, of strengthening the hands of 
 another and another generation, the young and the mid- 
 dle-aged, in the good work in which many of their fore- 
 fathers were diligently and successfully engaged ; that so 
 there may always be a succession of those who are not 
 only skilful in building up the walls of Zion, but of such 
 also as for her sake caimot rest, nor for Jerusalem's sake, 
 hold their peace, until, &c. May the Lord in the riches 
 of his wisdom, power, and mercy, hasten this glorious 
 day ! 
 
 As the usual time for the Yearly Meeting in London 
 approaches, it brings many dear friends to ray re- 
 membrance, whom I have for a series of revolving years 
 been accustomed to see there ; some of them I shall 
 see there no more. But this rather increases than di- 
 minishes my affection for those who are left of my old 
 companions, and at the same time excites a feeling of 
 lively interest towards the rising and risen characters of a 
 later day. 
 
 No. 129. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1826, 7 mo. 21. — How much sweeter than roses or 
 their incense, I have thought, is the piety evinced by some 
 of our beloved young friends, who arc called upon in the 
 morning of their day to prove their allegiance by their ac- 
 quiescence in the will of their Creator and their Redeemer. 
 For early or late, living or dying, resignation appears to 
 
 L 2 
 
220 
 
 ine to he the only altar on which an acceptable sacrifice 
 of any kind can be offered ; and submissively to place 
 upon this altar the opening prospects of early life, and 
 even life itself, seems to be one of the deepest and most 
 precious experiences of a Christian. How lovely then is 
 it to behold the well-disciplined and well-regulated minds 
 of some who are but lately passed even from infancy, and 
 to perceive, as I think we may sometimes plainly do, that 
 the principle to which they have been directed supports 
 them under nature's severest conflicts, and even in the 
 trying hour of dissokition. 
 
 No. 130.— To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1826, 7 'WO. 28. — From early life, and before I could be 
 said to be religious either from education or anything else, 
 1 was deeply impressed with the entire spirituality of the 
 Christian dis]iensation, and of course not very friendly to 
 the outward rites and ceremonies with wdiich even then I 
 thought I could perceive its beautiful and holy simplicity 
 had been encumbered and obscured. Rather than accept 
 it thus abused, overlooking, as perhaps is too often the 
 case, an object near at hand, the simple profession in 
 which I was born, I unhappily sought refuge in meta- 
 physics and scepticism. But here, as might be expected, 
 I found no rest : weary of both, namely the contempla- 
 tion of a religion attended with outward ordinances on 
 one hand and unbelief on the other ; and still more weary 
 of a corruption from whicli I was persuaded neither of 
 these could set me free, I was at length drawn to a 
 remembrance of the Saviour and his most precious pro- 
 mise. Matt. xi. 28: " Come unto me, all ye that labour 
 
221 
 
 and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." In so- 
 litude and solicitude my heart conceived and my tongue 
 uttered at the same moment this piercing cry, Lord, 
 grant that a poor fugitive may enter into thy rest 1 
 And though I do not like to put upon paper what fol- 
 lowed, yet in the confidence with which thou hast 
 treated me, I may tell thee in general terms, what per 
 haps I might more particularly disclose in conversation, 
 that this cry was condescendingly and immediately an- 
 swered in the most clear and satisfactory m<anner ; — but 
 not a word of sacraments as they are called, nor of any 
 other ceremonial observances : all was intelligible and 
 spiritual. 
 
 From this memorable era in my experience, I believe 
 I may with safety say, I have never " wilfully departed 
 from my God," though the manner and degree in which 
 my feeble nature has endeavoured to please and to serve 
 Him frequently covers me with humiliation, and leaves me 
 no shadow of excuse or cause for complaint in any case of 
 permitted or inflicted suffering. May this gracious Being, 
 of his great love and mercy in Christ Jesus, continue to 
 pity and pardon hearts which are desirous to be found 
 doing his whole will in the midst of manifold tribulations 
 and infirmities ! 
 
 I am aware that the rite of baptism is generally con- 
 sidered an outward sign of an inward work. But there 
 may be found who have transposed this, and said that 
 water baptism is the substance, and that what is men- 
 tioned of baptism by the Holy Ghost, &c. is only figu- 
 rative. Indeed sucii is the confusion of theoloaians in 
 treating of these rituals, as to the time, place, and mode of 
 administration, the clioice of proper recipients, and the ef- 
 
222 
 
 fccts which these are to expect from the ceremony, as to 
 confirm me in my old persuasion, that these endless con- 
 troversies, to say nothing of persecution, are mucli more 
 calculated to produce disciples of Pyrrho than followers of 
 Jesus Christ. 
 
 No. 131. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1826, 9 mo. 7- — Thou hast expressed an affectionate 
 desire for my preservation through the passing storm. As 
 might perhaps be expected, many cogitations and various 
 feelings have in the course of it attended me. Yet I may 
 thankfully acknowledge that oil has been poured upon 
 the wave, so that quietness in the Divine will has I trust 
 generally predominated over all that would disturb me. 
 Has not David somewhere said, " In the multitude of my 
 thoughts within me, thy comforts delight my soul." I am 
 even thankful that my last letter afforded thee the satis- 
 faction thou hast expressed. I say thankful, because it 
 affords me one proof more, that there is a power which 
 can make anything efficacious. So, it seems, tliought poor 
 Cowper, when, in allusion to the bounteous Giver of all 
 good, he says, 
 
 " Whose frown can disappoint the proudest strain, 
 His approbation prosper even mine ! " 
 
 I rejoice in that thy recent travels have been so safe and 
 satisfactory to thyself, and I hope the Omnipotence of 
 which we have just spoken will prosper the word sent to 
 many who heard it, so that it shall not return void. 
 
223 
 
 No. 132. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1826, 11 tno. 14.— Thy lines of the 11th, wliich hinted 
 a doubt of thy capacity for brotherly love, have so far 
 convinced me beyond a doubt of its real presence, that 
 I accepted the tender at full weight, and with a sweet 
 satisfaction, to which our dear Joseph's postscript was no 
 drawback. 
 
 Indeed your letters, with a few others of similar import 
 from dear and distant friends, have, I think, been a means 
 of keeping up my head in a season when the waters have 
 seemed to me to be somewhat deeper tlian common, and 
 more threatening to my peace. But such is the wisdom 
 and tlie power of our gracious Helper, that He is never at 
 a loss in the accomplishment of any of his purposes ; and 
 therefore when He is pleased to withdraw his sensible 
 presence, or in Scripture phrase, to hide himself. He can, 
 and often does administer needful support to his fainting 
 children through less direct, and it may be in their esti- 
 mation, througli very inferior mediums : thus we have 
 sometimes found an epistle from a friend converted into a 
 messenger of mercy. 
 
 I find too in my confinement, for I am a good deal con- 
 fined, the value of mental resource, limited as I am aware 
 my own is, yet it affords me satisfaction to reflect, that 
 whilst I have had necessary intercourse with tlie world, I 
 have not been wliolly absorbed in it ; and that my thoughts 
 and my conversation, though perhaps too much so, have 
 not been wholly confined to my flocks and my lierds; 
 whilst I perceive, at least I think so, an increasing beauty 
 and value in the Holy .Scriptures, which after a course of 
 
224 
 
 various and desultory reading, now present themselves as 
 a quiet resting-place, and a sort of spiritual home, from 
 which in future I hope less and less to stray. 
 
 No. 133. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 182G, 11 mo. 20. — I quite agree with thee that we are, 
 as members of our religious Society, under a close trial of 
 our faith. I am glad thou art sensible that such is the 
 case ; and I wish a similar feeling might so spread and 
 prevail, as to produce a general humiliation, of which I 
 think there is need ; whilst with thee I still trust, that 
 amidst all our derelictions and perplexities, we have ground 
 to hope that we are not a people forsaken of their God : 
 and that such an awful crisis may never arrive to us, either 
 in a " corporate" or individual capacity, I can scarcely 
 doubt is the daily and nightly breathing of many a hidden 
 character. 
 
 Of those who may at times thus weep between the 
 porch and tlie altar, very probably thy amiable cousin P. 
 H. Gurney may be one, the description of thy visit to 
 whom is much what 1 should have expected. I have seldom 
 met with her but in public, yet sufficiently to have formed 
 this estimate of her worth ; — that she has attained to a 
 growth in religion not very common, — to a purity, esta- 
 blishment, and elevation, with which the truth, as one of 
 the manifestations of its wonderful power, dignifies a few 
 of its devoted followers. Does not this opinion harmonize 
 with thine, of being made a little lower than the angels ? 
 And yet according to thy feelings, which I fully credit, 
 this dear friend with all her completeness secretly suffers, 
 so that perhaps when smiling on those around her, and 
 
225 
 
 when least suspected by them, even she may know what it 
 is " to groan the unspeakable groan." Well, if when the 
 season for activity is pretty much over, nature in any of 
 us should he permitted to wear away upon this cross, it is 
 no matter. If our suiFerings are but accordino- to the will 
 of God, whether outward or inward, the end will be glo- 
 rious. 
 
 In mentioning Gedney, I observe thou hast associated 
 greenness with the recollection. This, trifling as it may 
 seem, pleases me, not only because I love Gedney, hut be- 
 cause it shows thee to be in possession of a secret which 
 some travellers want; — that of trying to be pleased 
 wherever they are, and if there be " a spot of azure in a 
 clouded sky," endeavouring to find it. Thus, in the fens 
 of Lincolnshire, instead of looking for rocks and moun- 
 tains and forests, thou more wisely kept thy eyes down ; 
 and thereby discovered the only beauty we can boast, the 
 verdure of our pastures, — a verdure which, from interest 
 and fancy combined, I have so often hailed with delight ; 
 and even now when delight in such objticts seems fast wear- 
 ing away, I still behold with pleasing sensation. Perhaps 
 I seldom have been more soberly or sweetly gratified in 
 this way than during the present autumn, in which the 
 renovated state of the vegetable kingdom has been indeed 
 surprising. In the extraordinary drought of summer, the 
 poor sheep had nibbled the grass very short, and in the 
 most even manner, a work which they execute better than 
 the scythe. So that whan genial weather set in, we had 
 very quickly our desert-like a])pearance changed to that 
 of a second spring, and I think the tenth month, flowers 
 excepted, outvied the fourth in beauty. Perhaps it might 
 not be too much to say, that before the dew was exhaled 
 
 l5 
 
226 
 
 iu a morning, many of our pastures for softness and shade 
 were comparable to the ricliest velvet. This description 
 may seem rather poetic, but it is not, I think, exaggerated. 
 Continue then, my dear friend, if thou canst, to be pleased 
 with " green Gedney," and sometimes visit it. 
 
 No. 134. To Catherine Foster. 
 
 1827, 1 mo. 1. — Under the renewed feelings of a friend- 
 ship which has weathered the storms and the calms of 
 about half a century ; and which if by the chilling hand 
 of time it have lost anything of its vivacity, may never- 
 theless by the discipline of the same hand, under the varied 
 exercises of a probationary state, have gained more in 
 solidity than it has lost in appearance — be this as it may, 
 I sit down with much satisfaction, to acknowledge the re- 
 ceipt of an acceptable proof of thy continued regard, as 
 conveyed by thy epistle of the 11th month last. Audit 
 is no small addition to this satisfaction to consider that 
 my dear friend, thy long-loved companion, by the insertion 
 of a few lines, characteristic of himself, has adopted thy 
 sentiments of kindness towards me, and acknowledged 
 them as his own. 
 
 I sometimes think, and the thought afresh revives, what 
 a favour it is that some of us have had so much time 
 allowed us to be exercised in the school of adversity, — a 
 school in which I believe the oldest are not too old to 
 learn, nor the wisest too wise to be taught. This disci- 
 pline is also necessary for us ; for as surely as gold is tried 
 in the fire, so surely are acceptable men in the furnace of 
 affliction. 
 
 Like thee I was pleased with the few lines thou hast 
 
227 
 
 quoted from a Methodist hymn. They are full of signifi- 
 cation, and I hope that the low and humble thoughts of 
 thyself, which seem to have led thee to introduce them, 
 will ultimately be crowned by a safe passage over Jordan, 
 and a happy arrival on the peaceful shores of the promised 
 land, the heavenly Canaan. 
 
 What a consolation it is to the Christian, as at seasons, 
 even while struggling here below, it is given him with full 
 assurance of faith to believe that these and similar descrip- 
 tions are not, as infidels and sceptics would fain persuade 
 us, cunningly devised fables to impose upon the ignorant 
 and the credulous ; but that they are on the contrary em- 
 blems and figures of pure, unsophisticated, substantial 
 realities, which in due time we shall enter into the posses- 
 sion and enjoyment of, if we endure to the end, and hold 
 fast the profession of our faith without wavering. 
 
 Nor need it much disturb this faith and hope, if for the 
 present we should have to mourn, to weep, and variously 
 to suffer, seeing we are assured on the highest authority 
 that in this world we shall have trouble. And when we 
 contemplate the characters and dispositions of mind with 
 the precious promises annexed to them, set forth in the 
 first few verses of the fifth chapter of Matthew, we may, 
 I think, see and feel the reason and force of the apostle's 
 assertion, that these light afflictions which are but for a 
 moment, shall work for us a far more exceeding and 
 eternal weight of glory. 
 
 No. 135. To JOSIAH FORSTER. 
 
 1827, 1 'nio. 19. — I lament over the separatists in Ame- 
 
223 
 
 i lea ; for if youth and comparative inexperience be so 
 bliarply visited, as I believe they often are, for shunning 
 the cross of Christ through human w^eakness and the mo- 
 mentary fear of man, liow great must be the responsibility, 
 and much sorer the punishment, of those, who with a 
 deliberation that astonishes us, and a perseverance which 
 might be worthy of the best cause, are found, even in life's 
 latest stage, systematically denying the divinity of tlie 
 Lord that bought them, counting the blood of the covenant 
 an unholy thing, and doing despite to the Spirit of grace ! 
 Yet here, sad as the thought is, it seems as if we must leave 
 many on the other side of the Atlantic, and perhaps under 
 various names and dififerent degrees of infection, not a very 
 few in our country. 
 
 I am now brought to a somewhat 
 
 difficult, though very allowable question in thy letter : " Is 
 agriculture more exposed to danger than commerce ? " I 
 perhaps should say not as agriculture merely, which I 
 think possesses many advantages, and is free from some 
 objections attendant on various other occupations. And 
 yet, with all my predilection in its favour, I must acknow- 
 ledge that the subject is one in which, as in many other 
 cases, theory is not borne out by experience to the full ex- 
 tent of its promise. For congenial as the culture of the 
 soil appears to be with nature, with Providence, and with 
 the mild spirit of the Christian religion, of prime impor- 
 tance too, as it is, to the sustenance of man ; yet it does 
 seem to contribute less to the production of active, spiri- 
 tually-minded character than is to be found under circum- 
 stances, which certainly appear at first sight destitute of 
 many of its privileges. 
 
 But this appar;-nt discordance as applied to members of 
 
229 
 
 our little religious Society in the country, is not perhaps 
 more or so much owing to persons being farmers, as to the 
 "small bodies and insulated situations in which they live, in 
 many cases almost cut off from proper associates, except 
 with the people at large. Young people in general are 
 desirous of companions suited to their own age, and wlien 
 these can be found I think it is important they should 
 have tliem, as for want of this, perhaps as much as from 
 almost anything else, tlie minds of many in country places, 
 both farmers and others, and some of them not wanting in 
 understanding, education, or employment, have by de- 
 grees become so imbued with the maxims and habits of 
 those around them, as at length grievously to depart from 
 the way of truth as professed by Friends, and it is to 
 be feared, in some instances, even to cause it to be evil 
 spoken of. 
 
 It may now be time for us to avert our eyes from this 
 somewhat gloomy picture. Facts and experience are how- 
 ever things which even our imao'ination, fertile as it is, can 
 neither create nor cancel. And I should be glad if tliese 
 did not, so much as I apprehend tlicy do, keep me a 
 mourner as in a strange land. For notwithstanding the 
 reports we frequently hear of " songs from the uttermost 
 parts of the earth," I cannot help considering the living, 
 faithful members of the church militant and universal, in 
 every country, and under every name, to be a poor and 
 afflicted remnant, comparatively few in number, and figu- 
 ratively dwelling in a wilderness. Thou wilt probably 
 think that I am in reality very gloomy — perhaps tempe- 
 rament, hciglitencd by long and merited discipline in the 
 school of affliction, may have given me such a complexion. 
 And yet I think no man rejoices more sincerely than I do 
 
230 
 
 to meet those of any denomination to whom in the secret 
 feelings of my spirit I can say, " God speed ! " Such as 
 I can saUite with, Hail ! brother, or Hail ! sister, Hail ! 
 my son, or Hail ! my daughter, I bid you all welcome, in 
 that kindred and fellowship (of " brethren and sisters 
 and mothers and children," Mark, x. 30) which our blessed 
 Redeemer promised to those who give up all for his 
 sake : and whicli, blessed be his name ! poor as the world 
 is of spiritual joys, He is still graciously pleased to grant 
 to his little flock and family. 
 
 I will now sum up my speculations, should they ap- 
 pear to thee little more, by observing of agriculture, that 
 since I became serious I have beeu glad that I was a 
 farmer ; and of our religious Society, that, under all dis- 
 couragements, I believe it is by no means forsaken. If 
 therefore in that contrast of situation and circumstance 
 which we possess, thou in town and I in the country, — if 
 in these very different lots we can neither of us compre- 
 hend or cure many things which give us concern, let us 
 endeavour through Divine assistance to overcome them by 
 patience, submitting like the blind to be led in a way we 
 know not, and to be guided in paths that we have not 
 known, — a passage which seems to suit my present state 
 of mind, and has afforded me some comfort, at a time 
 when leaning to my own understanding was never that I 
 remember more entirely unavailing. 
 
 No. 136. To Joseph and Jane Gdrney. 
 
 1827, 1 "mo. 27. — Gedney, removed as it is from the 
 great and busy, and even from the more active scenes of 
 
231 
 
 the religious world, afiFords but little matter of informa- 
 tion. I have not very lately been far from home, but 
 within the last few weeks have been at different times an 
 inmate in my brother and sister Massey's family at Spal- 
 dinff, from the wish of their invalid daughter Deborah, the 
 latter stage of whose slow consumptive case was attended 
 with much suffering. 
 
 Her conflicts ended last fourth-day morning. The scene 
 for some days past had been a deeply affecting one to me, 
 but was more than compensated by the confirmation of 
 faith and increase of experience, w^hich, in common with 
 my surrounding friends, I hope we all derived from it. It 
 is probable the oldest of us might never before have had so 
 full and fair an opportunity of witnessing the power of 
 religion on the mind in affliction, in sickness, and in death, 
 or one wherein, young as the subject was, grace was so 
 eminently triumphant, not only over the weakness, but 
 amidst the agonies, of slowly expiring nature. 
 
 One evening as her father and I were standing by her 
 couch, from a state of comparative ease she became sud- 
 denly sensible of an approaching struggle : leaning against 
 her parent, and taking my hand, she exclaimed, " O my 
 dear uncle ! O my dear father ! I am going." She was 
 perfectly collected and sensible throughout the paroxysm, 
 and at short intervals, but in a raised and audible voice, 
 she continued thus to express herself : " This is death!" 
 " I had no idea that dying was like this, — but I can bear 
 it." " Thou (meaning the Almighty) enablest me to bear 
 it." " Lord ! into thy hands I commend my spirit." 
 " Jesus, receive my spirit." " O take me to thyself!" 
 She then lay for some time as if departing, but whilst we 
 were expecting to see her breathe her last, she gradually 
 
232 
 
 revived, after -which she observed to her mother, " I 
 thought I was going ; I was disappointed : but I desire to 
 wait the Abiiiglity's time." She survived several days 
 after this, with various alternations of trial and comfort, 
 though I believe the latter on the whole greatly predomi- 
 nated, as she would frequently say, " I am comfortable 
 and once to her fatlier she repeated, in reference to her 
 own state, the well-known line, 
 
 " For all I thank Thee, most for the severe." 
 
 I should not liave transmitted this account to you, did I 
 not think, and hope you will think so too, that there is, 
 when fully considered, more of brightness than of gloom 
 in it. 
 
 For how instructive and edifying, as we have often 
 heard and seen, and I think have remarked to each other, 
 the closing moments of some dear young persons are found 
 to be — even where the appearance of piety has lain much 
 concealed from outward observation, it has nevertheless 
 been elicited in an extraordinary degree on the approach 
 of death. Then a faith not built upon systems, but on 
 the Rock of Ages, lias shone forth with effulgence and 
 power ; then a hope not deduced from the subtleties of 
 the schools has to the humbling admiration of beholders 
 discovered itself, as an anchor to the departing soul, sure 
 and stedfast ; and the whole of the case has manifested, 
 too clearly to be mistaken, that not more by their expres- 
 sions, though these are sometimes remarkable, than by the 
 strength of mind with which they were enabled to pass 
 through the dark valley, by these babes and sucklings, 
 praise of the purest and most exalted kind has been per- 
 fected, and ascribed to that very adorable Name, who has 
 
233 
 
 thus given them the victory over their last enemy. Let 
 us, therefore, my valued friends, as we may be enabled, 
 unite in the sacred anthem which the dying example of 
 these young believers seems so eminently calculated to in- 
 spire. 
 
 No. 137- I'o Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1827, 3 mo. 20. — As the little I mentioned in my last 
 of my niece D. B. Massey's illness and death was so 
 favourably received, I am inclined to send thee half a dozen 
 copies of a more detailed account, which her affectionate 
 father had struck off for private distribution among some 
 of his friends and neighbours. 
 
 D. M. was when in health rather remarkable for cheer- 
 fulness of disposition, which however she managed so well 
 as to be scarcely ever observed to speak censoriously of 
 any one. She was also charitable and humane, noticing the 
 poorest of her neighbours with a tender regard. During 
 her illness, trying as some parts of it were, her mind was pre- 
 served free from the slightest perceptible aberration ; and she 
 seemed to have a very quick sense of the presence or ab- 
 sence of spiritual good, circumstances which I think added 
 weight to expressions. She was also freely communi- 
 cative of the many changes that were permitted to attend 
 her mind, thus availing herself of the aids of friendship 
 and books, without appearing to neglect a due attention to 
 that deep inward exercise, which an apostle has em])hatically 
 denominated " working out our own salvation with fear 
 and trembling." I would not be diffuse, but as it can be 
 done safely, I thought this brief sketch of an amiable cha- 
 racter might not be unpleasant to thee. 
 
234 
 
 The agitation of the elements seems now to have sub- 
 sided, and more genial weather both to animal and vege- 
 table life has taken place ; the present being a fine and gentle 
 showery day, attended in the fields, and, were I in Norfolk 
 perhaps I might add in the groves and gardens, with many 
 pleasant harbingers of spring. Even at Gedney we have 
 a few ; and I now sit within a very short distance of 
 building rooks, sportive lambs, and blooming hepaticas. 
 How kind is the Author of nature! 
 
 No. 138. To Richard Cockin. 
 
 1827, y mo. 5. — Shouldst thou ask the cause of my not 
 writing, it might seem strange for a man out of business 
 to ascribe it to too much occupation. And yet if I mis- 
 take not, this has been the principal occasion ; my mind 
 having for a long time past been so involved in suffering, 
 as in no very inconsiderable degree to seal my lips and re- 
 strain my pen. Of these trials I account the general ill- 
 ness with which both my own and my son's family were 
 visited last autumn to make but a small part : indeed I 
 viewed with composure, perhaps I ought not to say with 
 hope, the probability that I might be gently passing away. 
 My afflictions therefore, if such I may call them, have 
 proceeded from other sources ; and I will not conceal from 
 thee, as a father in the truth, that sympathy with the 
 sufferings of many individuals, and solicitude for the state 
 of our poor yet dear little religious society in divers places, 
 have often brought me into, and generally kept me in a 
 reduced and stripped situation of spiritual feeling ; so that 
 the caution for which thou hast kindly given me credit, 
 
235 
 
 may perhaps, as to outward religious acts either by word 
 or writing:, have on the whole rather increased than 
 diminished. 
 
 It is not a very difficult thing to assent with the un- 
 derstanding to important truths of any kind : but really to 
 feel the force of these truths is another thing ; — to be made 
 truly sensible that of ourselves we can really do nothing ; 
 and to see that with the addition of a living and powerful 
 ministry, for such we have, it is utterly impossible without 
 the blessing of the Lord, and their own obedience, either 
 to raise or to support a single spiritual character, or even 
 to keep alive our own souls : for it is not in man that 
 walketli to direct his steps. 
 
 When we consider that time is needful to give these 
 important and humiliating religious experiences ; that it is 
 also not until the lapse of years that some of our greatest 
 outward trials overtake vis, in the dissolution of our oldest 
 and closest friendships, the loss of adult children, and 
 other painful circumstances ; when all this is duly reflected 
 on, does it not seem as if some of life's bitterest cups — 
 some of affliction's severest strokes, and some of nature's 
 greatest bereavements were reserved for the latter stages of 
 our probationary course ? And if we view this scale of 
 discipline as intended or at least calculated to wean us 
 more effectually from the present world and prepare us for 
 a better, by putting those Christian virtues of faith, hope, 
 and love, which we have long professed, to the closest trial 
 just before we quit the stage, — is not this somewhat ana- 
 logous to what is practised in the schools of literature and 
 science, where the hardest lessons are given to the highest 
 class of learners ? 
 
 I can well understand the relief thou mentionest, having 
 
236 
 
 myself experienced it, from being out of business in the 
 late difficult time : it is indeed one of the greatest privi- 
 leges in life's decline ; and that thou met with a successor 
 who follows thy practice of closing shop on meeting-days, 
 must be a very pleasant thing to thee. We ought to num- 
 ber our blessings ; and amidst all niy complainings, I am 
 sometimes favoured to see that I have many to number, 
 and that it is to goodness infinite and mercy inconceivable, 
 I owe everything. 
 
 No. 139. To Sarau Squire. 
 
 1827, 7 nio. 7. — Ah ! my dear friend, unworthiness is 
 indeed engraven upon my heart in characters never to be 
 obliterated ; but blessed be the name of a gracious God, 
 the covenant of his mercy is also I trust indelibly engraven 
 there ; so that although in days past, sin has greatly and 
 grievously abounded, yet since the kindness .and goodness 
 of the Most High appeared to my benighted soul, grace 
 has much more abounded to his praise and my own hu- 
 miliation. May I never desire to rise above this state of 
 self-abasement, until time with all its trials and tempta- 
 tions is at an end ; and until, should such be my favoured 
 experience, death shall be swallowed up in victory ! Then 
 indeed, and not till then, all will be happiness without 
 alloy. In the meantime, let us consider the feeling of a 
 little peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, an 
 unspeakable favour ; and even the more negative sense of 
 no condemnation is a thing by no means to be despis.'d. 
 
237 
 
 No. 140. To H. C. Backhouse. 
 
 Selhi/, 1827, 8 mo. 2, — I am indeed prepared by ex- 
 perience to sympatliize with tlie most faint and feehle of 
 my fellow-travellers. Yes : I can cordially take the poorest 
 of the mental poor by the hand, and say, My brother, or 
 my sister, thougli thou niayst not at present be able to 
 rejoice in thy tribulations, yet endeavour to be thankful ; 
 and low or weak as thou art ready to apprehend thyself, 
 yet count it a great mercy to have been j)reserved hitherto 
 through the shocks and the shades, and other vicissitudes 
 of thy probationary course. Hold on thy way, and may 
 eternal Wisdom be thy guide ! 
 
 I unite with thee in the sentiment, that there is more 
 of spiritual life in society than in solitude, and that there 
 is more of this society in towns than in fields and in 
 woods is equally true ; yet we cannot but love rural 
 scenes; and impressed perhaps with the feeling that 
 " God made the country and man made the town," we 
 find the latter suffer greatly by com])arison, as all artificial 
 things must do when placed in contrast with the work- 
 manship of a perfect Creator. Indeed I am so much 
 influenced by this thought, as to ascribe to tlie country a 
 loveliness compared witli which the j)roudest city is but a 
 heap of lumber, or mass of confusion. Tiiis, however, has 
 little to do with a conclusion which I have been brought 
 into by slow degrees, and witii some reluctance, that, 
 allowinij: to eacii their local advantage and disadvan- 
 tage, yet on the whole, both tlie quantity and quality 
 of active or positive virtue is found to rise higiier in 
 social than secluded life ; and tliis observation, or rather 
 fact, I think applies in a remarkable manner, though 1 
 
238 
 
 can scarcely tell why, and have been very unwilling to 
 believe it, to our little religious society ; yet, I could 
 hope almost against hope, for my favourite retirement — 
 still, I love the country ; and the life of a farmer, such as 
 I could imagine, though it might seem a little Arcadian, 
 has charms even for my age, which no other employment 
 possesses. 
 
 Thy analogy of nature and grace in their economy of 
 power and of evidence pleases me much, as it seems so fully 
 to accord both with experience and the scriptural assur- 
 ance, that according to the day (tliat is neitlier more nor 
 less than the occasion calls for) shall our strength be ; and 
 does not this account for the strippedness and desertion we 
 are often left in, when specific duty ceases to be required 
 of us ? And yet I do not consider this bereavement of 
 sensible good to be a state either of rest or of idleness ; 
 for can endurance be more wearisome or watchfulness 
 more difficult than when we seem left to ourselves and to 
 our enemy ? a condition that perhaps is more trying, than 
 when we can neither see nor pray, but only wait as well 
 as we can, which is often poorly enough, for its termina- 
 tion. These seasons may nevertheless be useful to us for 
 our deeper humiliation and the increase of our self-know- 
 ledge, showing us, in a way that perhaps nothing else 
 could, what we are and what we are not. 
 
 No. 141. To J. AND H. C. Backhouse. 
 
 1827, 9 mo. 11. — Seldom have I known deeper humilia- 
 tion. On looking towards the source of purity and per- 
 fection, I beheld a series of wisdom, goodness, and power 
 
239 
 
 extended towards me all my life long ; turning my eyes 
 in another direction, the contrast was almost too great to 
 bear, so that I was indeed brought very low. 
 
 As I take you to be converts, not merely to the opinion 
 but to the fact, of human imbecility, and of man's entire 
 dependence for physical, intellectual, and divine strength, 
 I express myself with entire freedom on the subject ; 
 believing that you will not, as I think is sometimes 
 ignorantly done, ascribe either to enthusiasm or nervous 
 afl'ection, an experience which is at least costly, and per- 
 haps designed to be useful. You will not, I am per- 
 suaded, reproach me as visionary ; especially when I tell 
 you tliat through the renewed extension of that glorious 
 attribute, which those who receive it in another life 
 will praise for ever, my bands are once more loosened, 
 and liberty so far proclaimed to my captive spirit, that 
 with a considerable degree of comfort and satisfaction 
 I can now salute you as dearly beloved strangers and 
 pilgrims, yet companions and fellow-travellers in our com- 
 mon journey through a wilderness, in which, mingled 
 with pleasant elevations, is found also many a valley of 
 tears. 
 
 After all that has been said or written, and much lias 
 been attempted, to make the way to heaven plain and 
 easy, I am of the apostle's mind, that great is the mystery 
 of godliness ; and that difficult to comprehend are tlio 
 dealings of the Most High with his finite creatures, in 
 order to prepare them for usefulness in the church militant 
 here, and happiness in the church triumphant hereafter. 
 I am sure it is not natural to me to take such a view 
 as this ; on the contrary, I should like to account for 
 (!verything ; but I am constrained into the conclusion 
 
240 
 
 just stated by past experience, as well as by that confirira- 
 tion of it which I have so amply received within the last 
 few days, wherein, instead of the peace I might have been 
 tempted to look for, behold trouble ! 
 
 I would not, however, have even hinted at such exer- 
 cises as these, which I have generally been accustomed to 
 wade through in solitude and silence, had not precious 
 faith been a little renewed, and hope, sweet hope, again 
 beamed upon me, inclining me to invite you, my dear 
 friends, to join in devout acknowledgments to the Author 
 of them both, who continues at seasons to exalt Himself 
 in the eyes even of his most unworthy children above all 
 thanksgiving, adoration, and praise. 
 
 No. 142. To J. J. Gurnet. 
 
 1827, 10 mo. 5. — Though I believe it is better that 
 many of our sorrows sliould be borne, and our prayers 
 uttered in secret, yet I believe there are times when we 
 ma)" with seriousness and discretion open our minds to a 
 friend. Led to it by our mutual .sympathies, I therefore 
 am inclined to tell thee, my dear friend, that thou bast not 
 been mistaken in supposing that the shades of the evening 
 sometimes appear to me rather sombre — that at other 
 times I seem to myself feeble and sore broken. Again, 
 the waters are so deep, and the tossing from wave to wave 
 so incessant, that there is no standing, — whilst at the 
 same time the surrounding darkness is too palpable and 
 dense even for prayer to penetrate. All this has of latter 
 days come within the range of my experience, and was 
 perhaps never more my experience than at the time thy 
 
241 
 
 last letter arrived, which was the more welcome to me 
 because it not only spoke distinctly of such trials as these, 
 but of the possibility of preservation in the midst of them. 
 This brings to my recollection the remarkable language of 
 the evangelical prophet to a tried remnant formerly, 
 " Wherefore glorify ye the Lord in the fires, even the name 
 of the Lord God of Israel in the isles of the sea." 
 
 That I may ever be found among the remnant, however 
 small its number, who under all circumstances are desirous 
 of pleasing and serving the Lord, is I think my continual 
 and earnest desire. On the closest examination, I cannot 
 discover, great as my weakness is, any change in this 
 secret bent and purpose of my heart ; which I therefore 
 reverently hope is fixed, trusting in the Lord ; and trust- 
 ing also that, through the continued assistance of his grace, 
 all may yet, before very long, end well for time and eter- 
 nity. Thus impressed, I therefore conclude to wade and 
 struggle on, deep and dark though the opposing waters be ; 
 for we know that although we are every way unworthy 
 of the notice and love of our Redeemer, yet He is alto- 
 gether worthy of ours. We know also that every bless- 
 ing we can enjoy, temporal or spiritual, must proceed 
 from riini : — forsaking or forgetting Him, to whom then 
 shall we go ? 
 
 I think I never before so clearly comprehended, or ^o 
 highly appreciated the important Gospel doctrine of the 
 forgiveness of sins, as during the cloudy and otherwise 
 comfortless season of which I have attempted to give thee 
 some idea. In the midst of surroundinff gloom, this 
 cheering and soul-sustaining doctrine has been like a lan- 
 tern to my feet, health and marrow to my bones, — all in 
 all to me. Grant me but this, 0 my Redeemer ! I have 
 
 M 
 
'242 
 
 been ready to cry, and I have nothing else to hope, to 
 fear, or to pray for. Blessed, indeed, is the man whose 
 transgressions are blotted out, and whose sins are par- 
 doned : yea, happy, thrice happy, is the man to whom 
 the Lord imputeth not sin. Covered with the robe of 
 righteousness, clothed in the wedding garment of salvation 
 and praise, even the forgiven sinner may triumphantly ex- 
 claim. Come, Lord Jesus ! Come quickly ! Thy poor, un- 
 worthy servant, leaning on thy mercy, is ready ! 
 
 No. 143. To Joseph and Jane Gurney. 
 
 1827, ]0 mo. 6. — Not knowing how long I may be 
 able to travel, I have devoted much of the past summer to 
 journeys of love and good will, by which I mean going 
 here and there with a disposition and with a desire to 
 " rejoice with those who do rejoice, and mourn with those 
 who mourn." The extreme points of these perambula- 
 tions have, I think, been London, Yarmouth, Ackworth, 
 and Darlington : a circuit which you know includes many 
 English acres, and as you will perhaps believe, has in- 
 cluded also many interesting scenes and circumstances, 
 with their correspondent feelings. 
 
 How surprising, in various points of view, is the rising 
 and falling of successive generations, and how many of 
 these changes have we seen ! they have even glided before 
 us like visions ; and yet here is no vacuum, nor any stand- 
 ing still : the world is everywhere full, and everywhere 
 active. Is not this, at once, an effect and a proof of Om- 
 nipotence ? 
 
 My late visit to , which still often occupies my 
 
243 
 
 thoughts, was, as it respected my private friends, all I 
 could desire from it. As it regarded our common cause it 
 had its alloy, and in fellowship with them I grieved and 
 suffered from finding that trouble had made an entrance 
 within their borders. How true it is that sin and sorrow 
 are to be found in every place, though in different shades 
 and degrees ! Here we have them of the darkest hue and 
 the bitterest taste. Ah ! poor learning, how feeble thy 
 protection ! thou art indeed good, very good, in thy place ; 
 but out of it, good for nothing, as Ave have a cloud of 
 witnesses to prove ; and where is thy proper station ? In 
 entire subserviency to, but not as a substitute for, or in 
 competition with. Divine grace. I believe this is unpopu- 
 lar doctrine in the schools, and equally unfashionable in 
 the world ; but that is no matter to me, it is my jiidg- 
 ment, and I neither can help it, nor desire it should be 
 otherwise. 
 
 After returning home about a month since, reduced in 
 health and strength, I soon felt the effects of a change 
 into this less salubrious atmosphere, and have been pre- 
 vented, by the reigning complaint of the season, from at- 
 tending our Quarterly Meeting, which was disappointing 
 to me. After alluding to other cases of domestic illness, 
 the letter thus instructively closes.] All these things, as 
 you may suppose, have had a tendency to bring me rather 
 low both in body and mind. I see however so much more 
 to be thankful for than to complain of, that, under some 
 renewed sense, I trust, of the Lord's continued mercy and 
 goodness, I would tenderly invite you to rejoice with me 
 therein. 
 
 m2 
 
244 
 
 No. 144. To JOSIAH FORSTER, 
 
 1827, 10 mo. 15. — I expect we shall find whatever di- 
 rection we take, where there are any friends, some rightly 
 concerned individuals, both as to principle and practice, 
 and however small the number of these may be, compared 
 with the whole, still it is a mercy that there are here one? 
 and there another, who are sincerely endeavouring to do 
 the best they can, for it appears to be very much owing to 
 the labours and the prayers of this little remnant, that, 
 under the blessing of the Most High, the rest are kept 
 together, even in the degree they are. Still the few have, 
 and I believe must expect to have, their trials ; but if they 
 are faithful, they have also their consolations. 
 
 The General Meeting at Ackworth was large, evincing 
 a great degree of interest in the minds of Friends towards 
 this valuable Institution, and I believe few went away dis- 
 appointed. The mode of Scriptural instruction established 
 of late years seems to be excellent, and to surmount in 
 practice, the well-meant scruples and justifiable fears 
 which perhaps should always guard a new theory. 
 
 Whether anj'thing further, and what, can be done to 
 improve the condition of our Society by education or dis- 
 cipline, I must leave to more projecting heads and better 
 qualified minds than my own. One tiling, however, on the 
 negative side of the question, I do feel interested aboTit, 
 which is, that nothing may be attempted which shall in 
 any way aff'ect the manner of holding or conducting 
 our meetings of worship. For whatever those who as- 
 
245 
 
 semble in them may be, I believe, as to their constitution 
 and establishment, they are what they should be, accord- 
 ing to the spirit and letter of the Gospel ; and, conse- 
 quently, that we no sooner touch them by any contrivances 
 of our own, however specious in appearance, than we are 
 in danger of losing tlie little remaining strength we have, 
 and of becoming, virtually at least, what we are sometimes 
 reproached with having already become, — another people. 
 I am not however alarmed by my subject, though I have 
 been thus led to touch upon it, — gently^ I hope. 
 
 No. 145. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1827, 11 22. — If I have seasons of trial, (and who 
 escapes them ?) I trust I have also the faith and hope of a 
 Christian, though of his patience I may not boast. As to 
 my health, I scarcely know what to say of it ; I have 
 certainly, for many weeks past, suffered a partial loss of 
 appetite and rest, and, as a natural consequence, some de- 
 gree of strength, which makes exertion fatiguing and irk- 
 some to me. I however take a ride or walk most days, 
 and generally get to our little meeting, at which I thought 
 I derived some comfort yesterday. But what a favour it 
 is to have the use of my limbs and faculties ; and if I am 
 indeed going down, that it is so very gently. 
 
 I sometimes think it is an especial privilege to glide out 
 of life by unperceived decay, or, if happily prepared for it, 
 a still greater mercy to be translated as by a touch ethe- 
 real. I could almost pray for one or the other, did I not 
 consider that quiet submission is more befitting than sucli 
 a prayer ; for, after all our anxieties, resignation is the 
 
246 
 
 Christian's motto, not to be -worn, like the Jewish phylac- 
 teries, on the forehead or on the arm, but in the most 
 secret recesses of the heart. 
 
 No. 146. To H. C. Backhouse. 
 
 1827, 12 mo. 25. — I am very lately returned from a 
 short excursion amongst my friends, in which, between the 
 afflictions of many on one hand, and the unfaithfulness of 
 some on the other, my mind was brought into a state of 
 deep and painful exercise, wherein almost all the little en- 
 couraoement I could find was derived from the degree of 
 help graciously afforded, proportionate to the ills of such a 
 cloudy and dark day, confirming me in a sentiment I had 
 previously adopted, that it is an equal favour to receive 
 strength to suffer, when such is our lot, as a will to serve 
 when thereunto called. Here I was not only able to plant 
 my foot as on a firm bottom, but even to take some com- 
 fort from a fresh remembrance of the apostle's remarkable 
 language, 2 Cor. iv. 8 — 11. 
 
 Indeed I think the whole of this and a few succeeding 
 chapters are encouraging to true Gospel ministers, in this 
 as well as former days. I was particularly struck with 
 what is said in the verses alluded to, of always bearing 
 about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life 
 also of Jesus might be made manifest in our mortal flesh. 
 The self-renunciation and daily cross which the disciple of 
 Christ has to bear, may, I have thought, be not unfitly 
 compared to the dying of the Lord Jesus; whilst the 
 patience, resignation, trust, and confidence in God, with 
 which this crucifixion of the wUl and affections is endured, 
 
247 
 
 may, more than anything else can do, manifest both to 
 ourselves and others the life of Jesus in us, whilst clothed 
 with these tabernacles of clay ; so that the few who by 
 this course attain to tlie perfection of which I believe it is 
 susceptible, and at which, as the mark of the prize, we 
 should all aim, may with humble confidence say, " I am 
 crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live ; yet not I, but 
 Christ liveth in me ; and the life which I now live in the 
 flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me 
 and gave himself for me." Gal. ii. 20. 
 
 If thou canst view this important subject as it seemed 
 opened to me in the time of my recent trial, I hope the 
 aids from Scripture which I have partially quoted, may be 
 equally beneficial to each of us, in keeping our heads just 
 above water whenever the floods are permitted to sur- 
 round. But I am somewhat apprehensive lest the low 
 and plaintive strain into which I am so often almost invo- 
 luntarily led in my letters, may induce thyself and others 
 of my dear friends, whom I should be sorry to make un- 
 profitably sad, to exclaim on the sight of my hand- 
 writing, " Behold the complainer, or the dreamer, cometh !" 
 either from a suspicion that I make too much of my' feel- 
 ings, or that I have not felt what I attempt to describe. 
 To this I can only say, that it is both my desire and my 
 endeavour to speak or write of nothing religiously, of 
 which I have not had some experience. 
 
 Nor need it surprise us, if, as life advances, should spi- 
 ritual strength and experience happily advance with it, 
 our burdens may rather increase than diminish. I some- 
 times think that in this respect, though so difi"erent in 
 some others, there is considerable analogy between tlie 
 Christian school and those of literature and science : in 
 
248 
 
 both, the most difficult lessons seem to be given to the 
 highest class of learners. It might not, however, be wise 
 in either case to tell young beginners too much of this, lest 
 it should afifright and discourage them. No, let them 
 enjoy their milk for babes, and sing how sweet it is, as 
 long as they can ; but for us, and such as us, stronger 
 meat is prepared. Indeed, I suppose we shall readily 
 admit, that the middle and closing stages of an ordinarily 
 long life, must, from natural causes, be subject to trials, of 
 which youth can have but a faint conception and no ex- 
 perience, being in reality strangers to many of the circum- 
 stances out of which arise the cares and the sorrows of age, 
 tliough of a virtuous and redeemed one. Age has its 
 comforts too, in its near approach to unperishable joys. 
 
 No. 147. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1828, 1 mo. 25. — That thou wast able to get through 
 thy engagements so much to thy relief whilst abroad, and 
 experienced such sweet peace on thy return home, I am 
 pretty certain thou wilt conclude with me to be a renewed 
 and unmerited mercy; for we are but unprofitable ser- 
 vants, and but for the renewings of the Holy Ghost, what 
 in the sight of infinite purity and perfection must be our 
 own righteousness ? The Scripture tells us, filthy rags ; 
 and there is not one of its important truths to which I be- 
 lieve we shall each more fully subscribe. Perhaps it was 
 the consideration of this truth that suggested the hymn 
 which contains the following stanza ; 
 
 " Nothing in my hand I bring, 
 Simply to thy cross I cling ; 
 
249 
 
 Naked come to thee for dress, 
 Helpless, look to thee, for grace. 
 
 To the cleansing fountain fly ; 
 
 Wash me, Saviour, or I die ! " 
 
 Thou makest inquiry after our last Quarterly Meeting 
 which I managed to attend, and am well satisfied that I 
 did so, though it seemed chiefly to svffcr ; yet as strength 
 for the day was measurably afforded, there was no cause 
 for repining, but rather of thankfulness for a degree of 
 ability to enter by sympathy into the severer sufferings of 
 others — a sense of which at that time was the principal 
 cause of my own. I think I never knew at any former 
 period so much private and domestic affliction in our 
 Quarterly Meeting, as I have good cause for believing has 
 of late existed in it — few families having entirely escaped 
 the visitation of trouble in some shape or other — which, 
 considering the present to be a time we not unfrequently 
 hear spoken of as " one of outward ease," almost surprises 
 me. Indeed I can make nothing of this difficulty by rea- 
 soning upon it, but find enough to do to watch and hold 
 fast, endeavouring at the same time, as ability is afforded, 
 to encourage my dear brethren and sisters to steadfastness 
 and endurance in our most holy faith, of which perhaps 
 adversity occasions the severest, though not the only trial. 
 
 This state of things thou wilt believe causes me some 
 low seasons, yet I find, as I have sometimes found before, 
 and a favour I esteem it, that, contrary to the common 
 remark, of body and mind rising or falling together, when 
 the latter has been the most deeply exercised the health of 
 the former has improved. Whilst on the other hand, I have 
 a few times known that, with death in near anticipation, 
 
 M 5 
 
250 
 
 the mind has mounted as on eagle's wings, without a grain 
 of pressure upon it, or the shadow of a cloud in its way ; 
 so that, as far as my own observation goes at least, body and 
 mind have in the most critical moments been alternately 
 helpful to each other. Whether this be generally the case 
 I cannot tell ; nor does it matter, if we are but favoured to 
 get safely through our probationary course, which shall 
 have been the greatest sufferer, flesh or spirit, or whether 
 their sufferings shall have been most frequently in unison 
 or otherwise. Perhaps this circumstance may be con- 
 tingent as to us, and yet nicely regulated by the wise 
 arrangement of an overruling Providence, with whom are 
 hid the secret things both of time and eternity. How 
 safe and delightful it is to rest every doubt and difficulty 
 which we either cannot comprehend, or which it does not 
 concern us to know, here, that is in God 1 
 
 No. 148. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1828, 3 mo. 4. — Still affected by the private sufferings of 
 divers individuals, as well as by the low and stripped state 
 of our little church in these parts, the state of my mind for 
 some time past may not unaptly be described in this lan- 
 guage of the Psalmist : " I was dumb with silence ; I held 
 my peace even from good, and my sorrow was stirred." 
 
 Such, however, were my feelings for some days, a few 
 weeks ago, that I was almost ready to conclude something 
 like a new era in my spiritual experience had taken place, 
 in which, if the days of mourning were not ended, they 
 might have received such mitigation as would henceforth 
 
251 
 
 enable me to journey forward with an increased degree of 
 strength and consolation ; but herein I was mistaken. 
 The south wind ceased to blow as from the garden of God ; 
 the spices thereof no longer flowed forth ; and I found 
 myself, I can scarcely tell how, again a humble resident 
 in the valley of Achor, where the only door of hope seems 
 to be, that those who mourn availingly shall ultimately 
 find a blessed exchange, and such as suffer with Christ 
 according to the Divine will, will assuredly, In another 
 and a better world, reign with Him, not transiently, as in 
 this, but for ever 
 
 In thus unbosoming mj'self to a beloved and confidential 
 friend, I hope I shall neither offend nor discourage him. 
 I have aimed at nothing further than simple information 
 of how it is faring with me, and in doing so I desire not 
 to go beyond the example of the two disciples who com- 
 muned together and were sad. Happier still should I feel 
 myself to escape the gentle reprehension which they 
 received, and class with those of whom the prophet 
 Malachi says, that they spake often one to another, and, 
 as he clearly intimates, with full acceptance. It is quite 
 evident, however, that at the present juncture I ought to 
 be grateful, if permitted to sit down with the poor dis- 
 ciples, and receive with meekness their reproof, " O fools 
 and slow of heart," &c. I do not, therefore, my dear 
 friend, ask thy pity, still less would I put thee to the cost 
 of sympathy ; but when thou art clothed with the spirit 
 of supplication, I desire an interest therein, that, in the 
 hour of tribulation, however induced, my faith and pa- 
 tience may not fail. 
 
 I have not heard from or written to thy dear uncle for 
 a considerable time. I am aware, that, by the exercise of 
 
252 
 
 our understanding only, we are poor judges of each other's 
 mental circumstances, yet I cannot sometimes lielp thinking 
 that there must be considerable difiference between the spi- 
 ritual experience of some of my beloved and honoured 
 friends and fellow-labourers, and my own general allot- 
 ment. They seem at liberty, whilst /am in prison ; they are 
 at large, but I am in bonds — bonds which just now appear 
 to be increasing in strength. But for a full view of what 
 I apprehend and believe of myself, and of what I hope and 
 believe of many others, I will refer thee to 1 Cor. iv. 10 ; 
 " We are fools for Christ's sake, but ye are wise in Christ ; 
 we are weak, but ye are strong ; ye are honourable, but 
 we are despised ; " and as much more of the chapter as 
 thou mayst justly think is my condition. Within the last 
 few seconds, I have begun to think that anywhere but in 
 a letter so much of one's self would be almost too much 
 even for good-nature ; I therefore obey the suggestion, 
 and turn from the idol. 
 
 No. 149. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1828, 4 mo. 28. — How sweet is the union, and how 
 delightful the communion, of saints ! By this appellation 
 I mean those, and those only, who, according to their 
 measure, whatever that measure may be, are what they 
 are " through sanctification of the Spirit unto obe- 
 dience and sprinkling of the blood of Jesus Christ ;" a 
 doctrine which, if fully admitted, leaves nothing for the 
 creature to glory in, and leads to the humble acknow- 
 ledgment, that our sufficiency is not of ourselves, but 
 of God. 
 
253 
 
 I am the more tenacious on this point, because there are 
 not wanting, in the present as in past days, certain plau- 
 sible popular speakers and writers, who, whilst they would 
 not perhaps assert it in words, appear covertly to assume 
 the untrue and dangerous opinion, that man is fully com- 
 petent to his own concerns, spiritual and temporal. In 
 both I believe he has need of the blessing and aid of a 
 superintending Providence. 
 
 My mind is at present enjoying a pause of comparative 
 tranquillity, in contemplating the extensive fields of moral 
 and religious labour which the vast wilderness of this 
 world exhibits to the mental eye ; waiting, at the same 
 time, to see or to feel if there be any little thing for me to 
 do, were it only opening or shutting a door for my fellow- 
 servants ; for truly I esteem it a greater honour to be even 
 thus employed, than to be accounted the son of Pharaoh's 
 daughter, or to dwell in the tents of wickedness. 
 
 No. 150. To JOSIAH FORSTER. 
 
 1828, 5 mo. 6. — The return of spring does indeed afford 
 much food for the contemplative and reflecting mind, both 
 of youth and age ; though the thoughts of these very differ- 
 ently circumstanced classes may take an almost opposite 
 direction. The former, exhilarated by the buoyancy of 
 animal spirits and the universal smile of nature, look for- 
 ward with sanguine, often too sanguine, expectations from 
 the future ; whilst those on whom these prospects have not 
 only opened but closed, and who have nearly seen the end 
 of all earthly perfection, are apt to look behind them. 
 Thus to me, and such as me, it is not an unpleasing 
 
254 
 
 though somewhat pensive employment, to number the 
 lovely springs that have passed over our heads, (in my 
 case, fifty-four since I left school,) and to turn over 
 the chequered page of our ow^n history, and that of the 
 times in which we have lived, as I can easily do, for more 
 than half a century. 
 
 In tracing these records, although I find some blots, 
 some blunders, and here and there a very zigzag and 
 awkward line, yet I really have no desire to try the 
 ground over again, even were I to begin with the advantages 
 which the first experiment might be supposed to afford. 
 For I find former experience, though of some value, is 
 insufiicient for preservation ; it cannot supersede watchful- 
 ness, nor does it preclude warfare. I therefore, on the 
 most serious consideration, would not wish to live such a 
 life always, but rather reposing on that mercy which has 
 hitherto helped me, and, craving its continuance, wait as 
 patiently as I can all the days of my appointed time until 
 my change come; — a change which is a very important 
 one, and yet when faith supports and hope illumines, (or 
 vice versa,) this prospect, though solemn, is found to be 
 rather sweet than painful. 
 
 Thou hast remarked my being rather fond of poetry. I 
 think, when carefully selected and moderately used, it 
 cheers with sobriety, and instructs without fatigue, and 
 thus innocently relieves the severer exercises of the mind, 
 as well as materially assists an impaired memory. 
 
 Having mentioned spring and poetry, I am reminded 
 of an elegy on this interesting season, by the late John 
 Scott of Amwell. On my way from the first Yearly 
 Meeting I attended in 1783, I spent a little time with this 
 friend at his brother Samuel's at Hertford. I remember 
 
255 
 
 them both well ; and the recollection of that particular 
 occasion, at which Samuel Spavold was also present, is 
 among the number of ray pleasant backward prospects. 
 How kind is Providence to reserve a capacity for declining 
 life, by which 
 
 Pensive memory oft retraces, 
 
 Scenes of bliss for ever fled ; 
 Lives in former times and places, 
 
 Holds communion with the dead. 
 
 No. 151. To H. C. Backhouse. 
 
 1828, 7 mo. 25. — I am inclined to tell thee, that, after 
 one of those privations to which the Christian traveller is 
 subject, from the withdrawing of an influence, without 
 some degree of which his knowledge is useless and his la- 
 bours unprofitable, and after the self-scrutiny and other 
 humiliations usually attendant on such occasions, I am 
 once more permitted to look upon Zion, the city of the 
 saints' solemnities, with a little revival of faith and hope, 
 and to behold the true worshippers therein with some re- 
 newal of gospel-fellowship and love. 
 
 As we have, I think, heretofore remarked, what a wonder 
 and a mystery is the state of human probation, so that 
 notwithstanding the holy fellowship, the precious commu- 
 nion, and the many other mercies, both temporal and 
 spiritual, which are vouchsafed in the course of our earthly 
 pilgrimage, there still are seasons, when with submission 
 we could gladly exchange it for regions of brighter day, 
 for scenes of more pure and uninterrupted felicity ; and 
 when, in contemplation of the glory which shall hereafter 
 
256 
 
 be revealed, we are ready to say, Blessed will be the hour 
 that shall anclior us in the haven of safety ! — thrice 
 happy and blessed the moment when we shall set our 
 •wearj- feet on the land that lies on the other side Jordan ; 
 a land flowing with milk and honey ! — I express myself 
 thus with the less hesitation of reluctance, because I know 
 that it is not the language of a repining but of a grateful 
 heart. 
 
 Xo. 152. To Joseph Gurnet. 
 
 Yarmouth, 1828, 9 mo. 2. — At our first coming, I had 
 in view from my chamber a beautiful moon and her 
 twinkling attendants presiding with mild and silent in- 
 fluence over slumbering nature. And this morning I 
 opened my eyes at rather an early hour, upon what I 
 consider to be an assemblage of the grandest objects of 
 this material world : the sky above and the ocean below ; 
 and these uniting to appearance in the distant and level 
 line of the horizon, whilst the sun irradiated the whole 
 scene with a splendour which it is not for me to describe, 
 further than by observing, that nothing visible gives me 
 such an exalted idea of the infinity, immensity, and mag- 
 nificence of creative power, and the littleness of man, as 
 the combined effect of contemplating the wonderful objects 
 to which I have just alluded. "Well, indeed, might the 
 Psalmist exclaim, " When I consider thy heavens the 
 work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast 
 ordained I what is man that Thou art mindful of him, or the 
 son of man that Thou visitest him ?" And yet, adored be 
 his holy and reverend name, He does visit his children 
 
257 
 
 even in this their low estate ; and, as thou hast hinted, is 
 at seasons found amidst the two or three. 
 
 Whilst, however, we not only admit, hut insist on the 
 doctrine of immediate revelation, as communicated by the 
 perceptible influences of the Holy Spirit, we some of us 
 feel, and surely none more than I, the need there is to 
 guard against the insinuating activity of the imagination, 
 which would obtrude itself into everything, to the great 
 detriment and hindrance of the work of sanctification and 
 peace, so that I very much unite in thy sentiments on the 
 activity of this restless faculty, as well as on the only pre- 
 servation from it beinsf derived from that salvation for 
 which, doubtless in all ages, numbers have been brought 
 to cry in the earnest and pathetic language, " Help, 
 Lord ! or we perish ! " 
 
 No. 153. To H. C. Backhouse. 
 
 Selly, 1828, 9 mo. 19. — However it may at times con- 
 sist with the will of our Heavenly Father for the promo- 
 tion of his own glory, to bring some of his servants as to 
 the top of a mount, and there to show them wonderful 
 things, even things unutterable ; yet whatever they may 
 think, it might neither be good for them, nor answer the 
 purpose designed, for them always to abide there. So far 
 from it, they may have again and again to enter into 
 suffering, and perhaps they will find that their safest en- 
 joyment rises little higher than a capacity for rejoicing in 
 hope, being patient in tribulation, and continuing instant 
 in prayer. 
 
 I came hither a few days since, with my youngest 
 
258 
 
 daughter in a steam-vessel from Yarmouth. After being 
 thrown with some force from one side of the cabin to the 
 other, at the suggestion of the captain I lay down on a 
 mattress on the floor, where I got a little refreshing sleep, 
 which was followed by the reflection, that, if men were 
 more willing to descend from those elevations both of 
 body and mind, to which they so much aspire, they might 
 spare themselves some trouble, and enjoy safer and sweeter 
 repose. 
 
 Although I have not entirely recovered from the effect 
 of my voyage, for such a farmer must be allowed to call 
 an hundred miles at sea, and about the same distance on 
 the rivers Yare, Humber, and Ouse ; yet I do not regret 
 having taken it. It has furnished me to a certain extent 
 not merely with new ideas, but with a heretofore unknown 
 experience of the wonders of the mighty deep, and of the 
 still mightier creative power, who laid its foundations so 
 sure, and whose omnipotent voice said, " Hitherto slialt 
 thou come but no further, and here shall thy proud 
 waves be stayed." 
 
 No. 154. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1828, 12 mo. 5. — I would not dwell too minutely on 
 those recent events, which both on the grounds of religion 
 and Immanity affect and afflict us. Rather let us turn to 
 the Lord, who, though He has permitted us to be thus 
 deeply wounded, can assuredly heal and bind us up. He 
 has heretofore helped us, let us trust that He will do it 
 again : yea, has He not at different stages of our pil- 
 grimage, when we have fallen or been ready to fall into 
 
259 
 
 " the horrible pit," brought us safely through, " set our 
 feet upon a rock," and even put a new song into our 
 mouth ? Shall we then despair ? 
 
 No. 155. To Elizabeth (Joseph) Fry. 
 
 1829, 1 mo. 10. — How many and surprising are the 
 changes to which we are liable, and that actually befall 
 the Christian traveller in his journey through a state, 
 which, though it has some bright spots, still as a whole 
 admits of the comparison to a wilderness and a valley of 
 tears ; so that not merely as respects his w onderful phy- 
 sical formation, and the union of this material tabernacle 
 to an immortal mind, but on a view also of his spiritual 
 condition and circumstances, may we not justly exclaim, 
 " What a miracle to man is man!" truly such a standing 
 and awful miracle, as might almost paralyze him with 
 astonishment and dismay, had not his omnipotent Creator 
 provided a means whereby he may shape his course by 
 night and by day, in the calm and in the storm, through 
 the most trying and difi&cult vicissitudes of his proba- 
 tionary pilgrimage towards a land of rest. 
 
 These, my valued friend, are not expressions of an un- 
 felt theory, and if, as I believe, they are truths, I have 
 learned them in the deeps — those depths into which, 
 though not a very public character, I haye had both on my 
 own account, and on account of others, frequently to de- 
 scend — and I think never oftener or deeper than of late — 
 so much so, that I have sometimes found it difficult to 
 hold fast and to endure, with the patience and resignation 
 befitting my years and religious profession ; yet amidst all 
 I have thankfully to acknowledge being preserved, even at 
 
260 
 
 times when, in my own apprehension, I had not, as I 
 ought to have done, sufficiently kept the word of the 
 Lord's patience : what mercy ! what infinite and adorable 
 mercy ! 
 
 In these tempestuous seasons, how busy is the enemy and 
 accuser in endeavouring by a variety of suggestions to sink 
 us below hope, at one time insinuating that his temptations 
 and our sins are synonymous, — at another, that, when we 
 are corrected by our Heavenly Father it is in inexorable 
 displeasure, and that when the light of the Divine counte- 
 nance may be occasionally withdrawn from our sensible 
 perception, we never more shall behold it ! These, and 
 many more are his devices against us in the cloudy and 
 dark day ; but let us not believe him : it is one thing to be 
 tempted, or even chastened, and quite another to be cast 
 away : and, thanks be to God, (I trust we can each de- 
 voutly ejaculate,) who though He may, as in the case of 
 his servant Job formerly, have permitted us to be deeply 
 tried, has not given us as a prey to the devourer ; let us 
 then endeavour not only to pray, but to trust, that, as we 
 have been helped hitherto, we shall be helped to the end. 
 
 I probably should not be so free on these weighty sub- 
 jects, did I not in addition to some experience, apprehend 
 myself supported by various writers of sacred Scripture, 
 especially David, whose eventful and extraordinary life 
 seems to afford both an example and illustration of the 
 miracle to which we have alluded, as comprising alrhost 
 everything both inward and outward, that man can be 
 supposed to do, enjoy, or suffer. I think the eighty- 
 eighth and eighty-ninth Psalms are remarkable for their 
 descriptions of deep and various exercise. 
 
 That I may not weary thee by a multiplicity of words, 
 
261 
 
 I will only add a few texts as they occur, from which I 
 have sometimes derived comfort and strength : " Greater 
 is He that is in you than he that is in the world." " In 
 the world ye shall have tribulation ; but be of good cheer, 
 I have overcome the world." " If God be for us, who 
 shall be against us ?" With Him nothing is impos- 
 sible. " Ye are of more A^alue than many sparrows : the 
 hairs of your head are all numbered." " Fear not, little 
 flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the 
 kingdom." These, and other passages too numerous to 
 mention, all make for one object, — the exciting and keeping 
 alive of our faith, hope, and confidence in an unchangeable 
 and almiglity Friend, as our refuge and deliverer, even in 
 those critical junctures wherein we may be the most deeply 
 proved. 
 
 No. 156. To J0SI.A.H FORSTER, 
 
 1829, 1 mo. 1.5. — Although active characters are w^anted, 
 and it is a favour we have some such, yet it does not follow 
 that those whose lot is more secluded need be indifferent to 
 what is passing within their own circle, or unaffected by 
 the reports which reach them from a distance. The mind 
 may visit remote scenes and individuals, when the body is 
 stationary. And might I be allowed to mention anything 
 of my own experience in support of this testimony, I 
 could assure thee, that I also, in my comparative solitude, 
 neither possess a mind untravelled, nor a heart at rest. 
 May we not then hope, that, according to their respective 
 gifts and allotments, varied as these may be, all the living 
 members of Christ's church make but one body, of which 
 He is the Head. There is also much comfort in bclievino- 
 
262 
 
 according to the apostle's doctrine, that they have need of 
 each other ; and may, in many different ways and degrees, 
 be engaged in the promotion of our common cause. 
 
 My youngest daughter being poorly in the autumn, and 
 recommended to a change of situation, I accompanied her 
 and her sister to Yarmouth, where we stationed ourselves 
 directly on the beach for a few weeks! On her health it 
 seemed to have a very beneficial effect ; we all enjoyed the 
 sea, and the society of the few friends of the place, who 
 were very kind to us ; and after a tossing and sickly pas- 
 sage in a steam-vessel from Yarmouth to Selby, I returned 
 home, and am even now perhaps deriving benefit from the 
 whole journey. Still, without neglecting the use of means, 
 or disputing the salutary agency of second causes, how 
 sweet it is, when faith is suflScient to look through these 
 mediums to Him, without whose superadded blessing every 
 other resource must fail ; and to accept all that we enjoy, 
 whether health of body or peace of mind, from the boun- 
 tiful hand of unmerited mercy ! 
 
 No. 157. To Joseph Gubney. 
 
 1829, 2 mo. 20. — I suppose may now be on their 
 
 way for Ireland. I shall sometimes think of them with 
 affectionate solicitude ; for after being made willing to re- 
 sign our beloved friends, whoever they are, to these arduous 
 engagements, or even enabled to commend them to holy 
 care and keeping, there still is room for secret prayer, — 
 that sacred duty of such extensive and universal obliga- 
 tion, as to be appropriate to all conditions, and in all times, 
 places, and circumstances. I think I am not setting up 
 
263 
 
 too high a mark — attainment is another thing — yet if we 
 feel something of a pressing after, let us not be discou- 
 raged. 
 
 Are thou and thy long-loved partner passing the winter 
 pretty much alone, or are any of your grandchildren with 
 you ? I also am a father and grandfather, and am so well 
 pleased with the relationship, that I seldom find myself 
 happier than with a child and its comparative innocence 
 in my arms, or in beholding infant loveliness sleeping on 
 its mother's lap. Like balm in a wound, these objects 
 sometimes soothe me ; — like oil upon the wave, they often 
 calm ; and I could really almost fancy myself the better 
 for being thus brought into contact with something so in- 
 timately connected with the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 No. 158. To Richard Cockin. 
 
 1829, 3 mo. 10. — I scarcely need tell thee that since 
 we last met, many humiliations both of a public and pri- 
 vate nature have befallen our dear little religious commu- 
 nity ; and may we not add, our beloved country too ? — so 
 much so, that the present appears to be a cloudy and por- 
 tentous day, and probably may have occasioned each of us 
 many an anxious thought. But after all these forebodings 
 and agitations, what can we do better than abide patiently 
 in our respective allotments, waiting as resignedly as we 
 can the event of these turnings and shakings, whatever 
 that event may be ? for I think it is said in holy writ, 
 " How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, and thy tabernacles, 
 O Israel!" and that whilst abiding in them, neither en- 
 chantment nor divination shall prevail against him. If I 
 
264 
 
 infer anything from this language as applicable to us, it is 
 the encouragement and desirableness of Friends keeping 
 themselves as quiet as possible, and out of the spirit of 
 party, however they may be urged to join in it, and whe- 
 ther it assume a religious or a political character, or both 
 combined. The strict neutrality which in extreme cases a 
 consistency with our principles obliges us to observe, makes 
 it in my judgment a part of the same consistency to forbear 
 meddling with the very beginnings of contention. 
 
 But though I have thus touched upon it, it is not my 
 intention to dwell long upon this or any other gloomy sub- 
 ject, though materials we both know are not wanting. 
 But I am at present inclined to turn aside from them all, 
 for the sake of indulging the brighter and more cheering 
 consideration, that amidst all the commotions and vicis- 
 situdes of this lower world, the Lord of the universe is 
 gracious, omnipotent, and changes not. From the begin- 
 ning of time He has caused his sun to shine on the evil 
 and on the good ; and his rain to descend on the just and 
 unjust. Whilst to those who in sincerity of heart endea- 
 vour to please and to serve Him, He is good, supremely 
 good ; yea, may we not say in a superlative degree, not 
 only by favouring them with inward peace in seasons of 
 outward trouble, but even by protecting their persons and 
 preserving their lives in the midst of numerous and immi- 
 nent perils. May we then, my beloved friend, as botli 
 Scripture and experience warrant us in doing, still trust in 
 the Lord, encouraging others by our example to the same 
 confidence in Him ! 
 
 I have this winter had pretty good health, which, in the 
 latter stages of life, is a great privilege. It is truly re- 
 markable how at one time the body appears to help the 
 
265 
 
 mind to bear its exercises, whilst at another, the mind 
 seems to sustain the infirmities of a failing body : so won- 
 derful is the divine economy respecting frail and feeble 
 man. For through whatever medium we are comforted 
 or assisted, it is still the Lord's doing, and is sometimes 
 marvellous in our eyes. 
 
 No. 159. To JOSIAH FORSTER. 
 
 1829, 4 mo. 25. — It is in proportion as they are in 
 some way or other interesting that all our communications 
 written or oral, longer or shorter, on ordinary or religious 
 subjects, derive their principal value. And whilst we 
 should not attempt to limit what must from various causes 
 ever be variable, yet I think it is pretty clear that length 
 and strength, either in speaking or writing, are not ex- 
 actly synonymous. Has not our attention been some- 
 times ready to groan or to sleep under the multitude of 
 words, whilst at others, words fitly spoken, tliough many 
 in number, have been heard with satisfaction and benefit ? 
 So long then as sense accompanies sound on conmion oc- 
 casions, and weight supports measure on graver ones, we 
 listen willingly ; but when either of these fails, weariness 
 ensues. 
 
 Of individuals sliding or bewildered I endeavour to 
 speak, if at all, with much reserve ; but in the case of a 
 fallen brother or sister whom I have loved, I become as it 
 ■were dumb with silence ; and if I can avoid it, neither 
 mention nor record their name, which, however, does not 
 exclude tliem from my thoughts, or perhaps from some- 
 thing more. 
 
 O 
 
 N 
 
266 
 
 No. 160. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1829, 6 mo. 23. — I have long been acquainted with 
 humiliations and baptisms ; but 1 do not remember in the 
 same space of time so many, so peculiar, and so deep, as 
 those which have arisen out of the events of latter days. 
 And as there is no rising above them by our own strength, 
 the wisest and safest course appears to be that of submis- 
 sion to the rod and Him that shaketh it ; humbling our- 
 selves individually and collectively under his mighty hand, 
 until He may be pleased to raise up, and cause us again to 
 live with acceptance in his holy sight ; giving us the oil of 
 joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit 
 of heaviness. 
 
 I would call upon every one who is able and willing, 
 to join me in secret and silent, rather than vocal or public 
 lamentations, perhaps somewhat resembling that mentioned 
 by the prophet Zechariah, xii. 10, to the end. As we are 
 thus willing to go down again into tlie low valley, the 
 Lord may condescend again to plead with us there, and 
 cause the blessed fountain, so beautifully spoken of in 
 the first verse of the succeeding chapter, " In that day 
 there shall be a fountain opened to the house of David, 
 and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, for sin and for un- 
 cleanness" — to be afresh opened for our purification and 
 sanctification, and may we not add, for our imspeakablc 
 consolation also. 
 
267 
 
 No. 161. To Joseph Gcrney. 
 
 1829, 8 mo. 28. — I think there may be more good than 
 harm, when we are at liberty so to do, in describing to a 
 fellow-traveller simply and without murmuring, the occa- 
 sional withdrawings from our minds of that which is most 
 dear to us. I am sure there are seasons (and I say it 
 without repining) when not even the most precious pro- 
 mises of Scripture — upon which at such times I can per- 
 haps take no hold, and therefore, when not even these, 
 sustain my mind equally with those more aiFecting de- 
 scriptions of suiFering, bodily and mental, given either as 
 their own experience or that of their companions, by many 
 of the inspired writers. Job and Daniel abound in these 
 descriptions : the prayers, confessions, and even complaints 
 of Elijah, Hezekiah, Jeremiah, and Jonah, are also of the 
 same character ; and I cannot doubt but that the second 
 chapter of the book bearing the name of the latter prophet 
 has many a time, in different ages and generations of men, 
 been availingly brought to the remembrance of the afflicted 
 under their deepest conflicts ; for by these only and in 
 such circumstances could the contents of this remarkable 
 chapter perhaps be fully understood and appreciated. 
 Neither must we, whilst on this interesting topic, forget 
 the expression of the blessed Redeemer, " My God, my 
 God, why hast thou forsaken me?" nor the remarkable 
 language of many who with so much energy and accuracy 
 foretold his humiliation and sufferings ; so that, on the 
 whole, I think it will appear that the duties of prayer, 
 perseverance, and patience, no less than those of faith, 
 
 N 2 
 
268 
 
 hope, and ch.arity, are recommended to us by a cloud of 
 witnesses. 
 
 I have not seen the book thou mentionest by Jonathan 
 Dymond, but I have read several pretty descriptions of 
 the Millennium, a subject which I generally lay down with 
 the volume ; for though it is quite delightful but to dream 
 of such a thing, yet the realities which surround us are of 
 so opposite a character, that it seems no less tantalizing to 
 dwell upon the character, beautiful as it is. Perhaps the 
 nearest approach, which as individuals we can expect to 
 make to this most desirable state, may be found in that 
 rest to the soul, which results from taking Christ's yoke 
 upon us, and being obedient to our God. 
 
 29th. — The crops of com in this neighbourhood are, I 
 believe, of an average quantity and excellent quality. 
 The progress of the harvest is, however, much retarded by 
 the state of the weather. This, by an agricultural paper 
 t which I see, is stated to be the case generally throughout 
 
 the island ; and yet these reporters say that the quality 
 of the grain is not much, if at all, deteriorated by the 
 heavy rains, which is rather new doctrine to an old farmer. 
 The high and cold winds are certainly much in its favour 
 by checking germination ; but the storms in divers places 
 have done much injury by beating out the grain ; in some 
 instances, I am credibly informed, as clean as if it had 
 been threshed. That our all is dependent upon an over- 
 ruling Providence will be generally acknowledged ; but 
 how far the weather, as a second cause, is in his liand 
 made the agent of plenty or scarcity, is perhaps too little 
 considered. Were farmers seriously to reflect that they 
 have no control over cold or heat, that they cannot com- 
 mand a ray of sunshine or a drop of rain, and that by a 
 
269 
 
 certain adjustment of all, their hopes are realized or disap- 
 pointed ; such thoughts might make some of them better 
 philosophers and no worse men. 
 
 So far as my own observation goes, the weather most 
 (^hurtful]] to corn in the field, is that which is at once 
 moist, warm, and still ; for under this circumstance, whether 
 the sun shines at intervals or not, vegetation will proceed. 
 The harvest of 1816 partook so much of this character, as 
 fully to convince me, that, had the same kind of weather 
 continued but one week longer, the corn then abroad 
 standing or cut, — wliicli was a large proportion of it, — 
 could not possibly have been saved. But just at the 
 crisis, when all seemed going to ruin, and the most active 
 farmer could do no more than look on and behold the 
 wreck ; in this state of things, the only change of weather 
 that could have been avaihng was in mercy permitted : a 
 high, cold, and penetrating wind arose, and in the course of 
 a few hours quite changed the face of things ; the farmers 
 exerted themselves, and though considerable damage was 
 sustained, the threatened scarcity was averted. I desire 
 never to forget this impressive instance of providential 
 correction and kindness, as manifested in such rapid suc- 
 cession through the medium of the elements. 
 
 No. 162. To Elizabeth (Joseph) Fry. 
 
 1829, 9 mo. 21. — I may just say to thee, my valued 
 friend, that my religious course has at dififerent times, and 
 under different circumstances, led me into a close ac- 
 quaintance, both with the consolations and humiliations 
 
270 
 
 described in that remarkable portion of Scripture, the fifty- 
 first chapter of Isaiah. 
 
 Some few times I have been enabled rejoicingly to 
 adopt the glowing language of the third and eleventh 
 verses : " For the Lord shall comfort Zion ; He will com- 
 fort all her waste places ; and he will make her wilder- 
 ness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the Lord : 
 joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving, and 
 the voice of melody." " Therefore the redeemed of the 
 Lord shall return, and come with singing unto Zion ; and 
 everlasting joy shall be upon their head : they shall obtain 
 gladness and joy; and sorrow and mourning shall flee 
 away." Whilst, at other times, I have had to bend under 
 many of the afBictive dispensations spoken of from the se- 
 venteenth verse to the end. 
 
 I mention these things from an apprehension that our 
 experience of them may be somewhat alike ; and that thou 
 as well as myself hast experienced, dost experience, and 
 mayst perhaps have still further to experience their ap- 
 plicability. And here I can scarcely forbear exclaiming, 
 I trust in some degree of the spirit of prayer, 0 that, 
 through inscrutable wisdom and adorable mercy, thou 
 mayst live to witness the fulfilment of the precious pro- 
 mise contained in the twenty-first and twenty-second 
 verses ! — " Tlierefore hear now this, thou afflicted, and 
 drunken, but not with wine : Thus saith thy Lord the 
 Lord, and thy God that pleadeth the cause of his people. 
 Behold, I have taken out of thine hand the cup of trem- 
 bling, even the dregs of the cup of ray fury ; ihon shalt no 
 more drink it again." On the verv solemn contents of the 
 twenty-third and last verse of tlie chapter before us, it 
 
271 
 
 becomes us to speak witli caution and deep humility ; yet, 
 even under these considerations, I am inclined to express 
 my full belief, that there are cases in which, not only as it 
 respects the oppressed but the oppressor, it has been and 
 may be lawfully fulfilled. 
 
 No. 163. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1829, 10 mo. 27. — T perceive by thy letter that our 
 feelings and views on certain weighty points continue to 
 agree ; and though this need not surprise us, it is very 
 agreeable to discover. On the low state of our little so- 
 ciety, on the alternate hopes and fears respecting it — hope 
 still predominating — our thoughts are the same. 
 
 To thy remaks on the all- sufficiency of our blessed Ad- 
 vocate and Mediator — I think I could subscribe word for 
 word. As perhaps there never was a time in my long life 
 when I stood more in need of such a Saviour, so I think 
 there never was a period in which I more highly appreci- 
 ated this most precious gift of God ; so that I am enabled to 
 lift up my head in hope, even imder a deep and abiding 
 sense of the greatest unworthiness. 
 
 No. 164. To Sarah Squire. 
 
 1829, 11 mo. 6. — Having reason to suppose that, after a 
 pretty long absence and many arduous engagements, thou 
 hast returned to thy dear family, and to a home which I 
 hope thou wilt find a peaceful one, I am desirous of affec- 
 tionately congratulating thee on so interesting an occa- 
 
272 
 
 sion ; at the same time desiring that grace, mercy, and 
 peace may be thy companions through every change of 
 situation and circumstance with which the present eventful 
 scene abounds. 
 
 Yet, as these necessities commonly, and perhaps neces- 
 sarily, produce their corresponding changes in our feelings 
 and experience, I have thought that, even when we are 
 peaceful, we may also be poor, seeing that peace and po- 
 verty, whether inward or outward, are by no means in- 
 compatible ; and therefore, if, after being clothed and re- 
 plenished for the sake of others, we should have our 
 seasons of stripping and emptiness, let us not be too much 
 discouraged ; for all this may be unattended by anything 
 like condemnation, and only amount to the quiet privation 
 to which I have alluded ; under which, if we can but per- 
 ceive the spirit of grace and of supplication in the gentlest 
 breathings for a patient and resigned mind, we have cause 
 to be thankful, and have nothing to fear. Our gracious 
 Lord and Master, as they cast all their care upon Him 
 and abide in humility before Him, will in his own time 
 and way remember the poorest of his children and ser- 
 vants, and, as I believe thou hast known, cast up a way 
 for them where they have seen no way ; making, at sea- 
 sons, even the desert to blossom as the rose ; turning 
 the wilderness into a pool of water, and the dry land 
 into springs of water, to give drink to his people, his 
 chosen. 
 
273 
 
 No. 165. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1829, 11 mo. 27. — I am recommended by my medical 
 attendant to keep very much within doors, which I have 
 so far complied with as to have been but once at meeting, 
 and of course denied myself the short rides and walks 
 which I had usually been accustomed to take almost every 
 fine day. 
 
 If conversation flags, or we are tired of reading, it is 
 but sending for two or three of J.'s little children, who 
 quickly restore animation. In the present era of specula- 
 tion and refinement, when much is said of the march of 
 intellect and the wonders in its train, we have, amongst 
 other discoveries, been told of the transfusion of blood from 
 those who have it to spare into the veins of such as are de- 
 ficient in the needful supply of this vital flame. May it 
 not be on a similar principle, that the smiles and the 
 cheerfulness of infancy are found to impart a portion of its 
 pure and exuberant spirits, into tlie torpid, weary, or af- 
 flicted bosom of more advanced life ? To this effect has 
 sung a poet of some talent and much sensibility, in this 
 pretty standi : 
 
 " Sweet infancy ! Oh, what a heart 
 
 Must he that could injure thee bear ; 
 Even anguish forgetetth its smart, 
 When thou, busy pratler, art near." 
 
 To resume a seriousness from which it does not become? 
 me long to depart, I may tell thee, that, tranquil as the 
 present tenor of my external condition might appear to 
 a passing observer, not such altogether is my mental course. 
 
 N 5 
 
274 
 
 On the contrary, ups and downs, and a variety of changes 
 find their way into my retreat, secluded as it is. Thus, 
 whilst I might now and then almost adopt the two first 
 lines of a beautiful hymn : 
 
 " A glance from lieaven, with sweet effect, 
 Sometimes my pensive spirit cheers:" 
 
 Yet, like the writer of this hymn, I perhaps soon find 
 myself involved in an opposite experience, either as being 
 more necessary for my own refinement, or more in afiinity 
 with the darkness and sufifering, whicli, on most parts of 
 this low and probationary region, though certainly with 
 some variation, seems to be the general state of the spi - 
 ritual atmosphere. 
 
 After saying this, it would be the depth of ingratitude 
 not to acknowledge, that, during my present confinement 
 I have been favoured, and I hope I do not deceive myself, 
 with the clearest and most satisfactory view of the Chris- 
 tian's faith and hope, or rather of his salvation, that I ever 
 witnessed — a salvation which has appeared to me to con- 
 sist in the forgiveness of sins, through the atoning sacri- 
 fice of the blood of Christ — in reconciliation with the 
 Father, by the mediation and intercession of the same 
 blessed Advocate and Redeemer — in power over all > the 
 power of our souls' enemies ; and finally, as the conse- 
 quence and consummation of all these, in the promise of 
 the life that now is, and of that which is to come ; even 
 of a city that hath foundations — an inheritance, eternal, 
 incorruptible, that fadeth not away. Although I believe 
 thou art much conversant on this deeply interesting sub- 
 ject, yet I do not think I could give thee an adequate 
 
275 
 
 idea of the preciousness of those moments, wherein light 
 shone upon my tabernacle ; nor how great my distress, 
 when, as in Peter's vision, the sheet was taken up again 
 from whence it came. 
 
 The longer I live, the more of a learner I find myself ; 
 yet, so far as my experience goes, it does seem as if 
 changes, comparable to being emptied from vessel to ves- 
 sel, or even the same vessel alternately filled and emptied, 
 were needful to keep some of us at least sufficiently hum- 
 ble and dependent ; by showing us, with an unquestion- 
 able degree of evidence, what inestimable treasure may be 
 contained in our earthen vessels when grace abounds ; and 
 what total vanity takes place when it is wanting ; — truths, 
 which, had we no changes, and were the stream of time 
 always to run smoothly, we should be unwilling to believe 
 or apt to forget. If this conclusion be correct, as I think 
 it is, then may we not indeed say, that — 
 
 " Trials make the promise sweet, 
 Trials give new life to prayer ; 
 Trials bring me to his feet, 
 Lay me low, and keep me there." 
 
 "Welcome, therefore, tribulation, saith the spirit ; but, 
 alas ! for another part, how weak ! 
 
 No. 166. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1830, 2 mo. 6. — I am desirous of acknowledging thy 
 brotherly kindness, as conveyed to me by thy letter of the 
 3rd, particularly in the account thou hast given me of thy 
 
276 
 
 dear son and daughter's extensive, and, were it not that I 
 wish to avoid any expression that might seem connected 
 with hard service, I might perhaps have called them ardu- 
 ous religious prospects. Under a persuasion, however, of 
 the transcendent kindness of the Master, whom they are 
 endeavouring to serve, I would do neither more nor less 
 than encourage them to abide in Him who has heretofore 
 helped them, and in whom they have on the present occa- 
 sion been enabled to trust. 
 
 I sometimes think it is a great favour when the Lord 
 condescends to own us in any way, whether in correction, 
 command, or his sweet consolations ; as each of these tends 
 to afford the reasonable presumption, that we are not so 
 displeasing in his holy sight as to be cast off or forgotten 
 by Him. This brings to my remembrance the circum- 
 stance of a stranger Friend, a minister, who many years 
 since in our little meeting introduced the scriptural story 
 of Manoah and his wife, as related in Judges, xiii. ; and 
 dwelt particularly on the twenty-second and twenty-third 
 verses, in support of the view I have just taken. 
 
 Thouoh imagination has often caused me sorrow, I have 
 for once had to rejoice in that it only conjured up a 
 groundless fear of having given religious or mental pain, by 
 indulging too great a latitude of expression on some of 
 those secret things, which, if discussed at all, it should be 
 with much caution. "When doubts and discouragements 
 press heavily, as I suppose they may at times upon most 
 of us, and lead me to turn the leaves of past experience 
 over, though on this review I have generally stood 
 pretty well acquitted of wilful disobedience ; yet, when I 
 come to the item of watchfulness against a restless and 
 bewildering imagination, I have been ready to tremble, and 
 
277 
 
 to conclude tliat few, if any, are equally tried in tlie ?anic 
 way. 
 
 One of our poets has written elaborately on " the Plea- 
 sures of Imagination." If this were given me as a theme 
 on which I must either speak or write, I really think I 
 could dwell only on its mischiefs and its miseries, wherein 
 I became in early life so deeply involved, that I am now, 
 perhaps, too sensitive on this quarter ; for such is my dread 
 of being again ensnared by the delusions and deceitfulness 
 of my own heart, that I think it is quite possible I may 
 sometimes be endangered by an over anxiety to escape : 
 thus I perhaps may be too scrupulous in conversation, too 
 timid in writing, and too much alarmed (for I really some- 
 times am alarmed) in the gallery. Now all this is not 
 the true medium, and disturbs that equanimity which it is 
 so desirable to possess. But seeing it is so, and that I am 
 thus weak, is it not possible that this infirmity, in con- 
 junction with not being aware of a command or warrant 
 to launch into deep water, may be a principal cause why, 
 in the article of preaching, I am kept so near the shore ? 
 Be this as it may, I feel, and hope ever to feel, that to 
 grace or mercy, in bearing and forbearing, I am an infinite 
 debtor. 
 
 No. 167- To Sarah Sqdire. 
 
 1830, 2 mo. 18. — IIow precious is hope ! so much so, 
 that I think the apostle has somewhere said, we are 
 saved by it. Indeed, it seems the happy medium between 
 " the vast extremes of happiness and woe," which, in our 
 present probationary state we can bear better than either 
 
278 
 
 of them. Shall I give thee the following extract, from a 
 letter of Samuel Fothergill's, as what may probably be no 
 very inapt description of the state of some other minds ? 
 
 " I have nothing to glory in, and am weak : I have 
 known strength. I am foolish ; I have been helped with 
 wisdom. I am poor ; but I have been enriched. The 
 rod I have often merited ; the staff hath often been re- 
 vealed. I have nothing ; I am nothing : let the gain and 
 praise be consecrated to Him, whose is the fulness of all 
 wisdom, riches, and strength." 
 
 No. 168. To Catherine Foster. 
 
 1830, 3 mo. 5. — I am inclined to request thy attention 
 with that of thy long-loved partner, my old and valued 
 friend, to a few thoughts and observations, which, in con- 
 nexion with you, have lately arisen and continue to attend 
 my mind. 
 
 That self-examination is an important duty I am per- 
 suaded we shall all admit, and that the oftener we enter 
 into it, the more we shall be humbled, and the more 
 earnestly we shall seek, and consequently find, an esta- 
 blishment on the Rock of Ages. And perhaps it is in 
 union with another sentiment, founded on experience, that, 
 by accepting our daily mingled portion of good and ill, as 
 it may in inscrutable wisdom be handed us, we shall often 
 find, if received with acquiescence, that, at the bottom of 
 our bitterest cup there lies a drop of the sweetest mercy ; 
 or, to change the figure, — peace not unfrequently succeeds 
 to conflict, as calm after a storm. 
 
 These reflections, though not entirely new to me, have 
 
279 
 
 been afresh excited during a season of exercise, not only 
 on account of my own imbecility and unworthiness, but in 
 the consideration also of the low and stripped state of our 
 little religious society, and the smallness of meetings, both 
 in this county and the borders of some neighbouring ones, 
 for a great distance round my habitation. 
 
 Under this discouraging view I was somewhat relieved 
 by the recollection of Gideon's humiliation and acknow- 
 ledgments, when called from a low estate into the Lord's 
 service ; and I was enabled, in some degree, to appreciate 
 these remarkable expressions of his : " Oh, my Lord, 
 wherewith shall I save Israel ? Behold ! my family is 
 poor in Manasseh, and I am the least in my father's house." 
 Equally moving and contrite was another of his diffident 
 queries : " Oh, my Lord, if the Lord be with us, why 
 then is all this befallen us ? " A language I have been ready 
 to think so appropriate to our own times and circum- 
 stances, that it may not improbably have passed through 
 many minds. And yet, when we consider the state of 
 Israel in Gideon's day, and mark the successful result of 
 his simple obedience, is it not enough to encourage the 
 most fearful and feeble to endeavour after faithfulness ; 
 and, without aiming at his distinguished eminence, to do or 
 to suffer whatever may be allotted them in their greatly 
 diversified situations and callings ? And thus, perhaps, 
 every one capable of spiritual feeling, whether strong or 
 weak, old or young, might, either by private supplication 
 or public exercise, be brought to the help of the Lord 
 against the mighty opposers of his truth and righteousness. 
 
 In this train of thought my mind was somewhat un- 
 expectedly turned, by an easy and not very imnatural 
 transition, to the remembrance of my feelings in your 
 
280 
 
 little meetlnof, one of the few times in which I have ven- 
 tnred to open my mouth in it as a minister, when this 
 short passage of Scripture occurred to me in a lively man- 
 ner ; and the recurrence of it has been accompanied with a 
 degree of the same animating influence, even at this dis- 
 tance of time, viz. " Thou hast a few names, even in Sardis, 
 who have not defiled their garments ; and they shall walk 
 with me in white ; for they are worthy." 
 
 That our dear departed friend and sister, E. S., was 
 in her life one of these few names, we shall have little 
 hesitation in believing. But, whilst we can thus hope for 
 the dead, who we trust have died in the Lord, we some- 
 times find it difficult, encompassed as we are with in- 
 firmities, to hope and trust sufficiently for ourselves : find- 
 ing the warfare within and without, — a warfare that, per- 
 haps, will end only with life, — to press so closely upon us, 
 that the utmost we can do, after all former experience, is 
 to pray that the door of tlie bride-chamber may not at last 
 be closed against us ; but that, through the mercy of God 
 in Christ Jesus, our immortal spirits, when freed from 
 these tabernacles of earth, may be admitted into the least 
 or lowest mansion, (if there are such distinctions in hea- 
 ven,) prepared for the righteous ! And my chief aim in all 
 that I have said, is to encourage you, my dear friends, as 
 I desire myself to be enabled, under all our weaknesses 
 of body or mind, thus to be exercised before our gracious 
 Creator and Preserver, who will not reject the petitions of 
 the humble. In this holy faith and confidence it un- 
 doubtedly was that the Psalmist thus expressed himself : 
 " My flesh and my heart faileth ; but God is the strengtli 
 of my heart, and my portion for ever." I think you might 
 also derive comfort from a perusal of the seventy-first 
 
281 
 
 Psalm, parts of which seem peculiarly appropriate to the 
 aged. 
 
 Being myself lately turned seventy, and feeling .as I 
 do the aggressions of time upon my constitution, 1 am 
 ready to conclude, that, at a considerably higher date of 
 years, you may be sensible of these inroads in a still 
 greater degree. We have, indeed, occasion for each other's 
 sympathy and best desires ; and whilst I assure you that, 
 rare as is our outward intercourse, you are not in this 
 way forgotten by me, T would bespeak your remembrance, 
 whenever you may be enabled to lift up your hearts on 
 your own account, at the footstool of mercy. 
 
 No. 169. To JOSIAH FORSTER. 
 
 1830, 3 mo. 26. — What a miracle to man is man ! is 
 an observation verified both physically and intellectually, 
 not only in his curious formation, but in the great variety 
 of person and character which we daily behold. Nor is 
 even this more surprising than the changes, bodily and 
 mental, of which an individual under different circum- 
 stances is found to be susceptible — from health to sickness, 
 joy to sorrow, a high elevation of thought and of feeling 
 to a state of depression and anguish, which I think the 
 Psalmist has compared to the very pains of hell. 
 
 There is something in this capacity witli which we are 
 endowed for undergoing great and almost countless 
 changes ; that, abstractedly considered, sets my poor reason 
 at a distance ; and of which, perhaps, thou canst not give 
 a much better account. Must we not, then, in all humi- 
 lity and reverence, conclude that man, the noblest in- 
 
282 
 
 babitant of the Lord's earth, came from his Creator's hand 
 a miracle to himself ? and that, as respects both body and 
 mind, he is indeed fearfully constituted and wonderfully 
 made ? 
 
 I enjoy, as thou hast supposed, the return of another 
 spring with its various beauties, of which, though in a 
 comparatively low and flat situation, we have now for 
 some weeks had many pleasant harbingers ; imfolding to 
 us daily charms, which winter had till lately silenced or 
 concealed. The flowers of the season now look very 
 bright. The lambs play ; the rook, the wood-pigeon, and 
 many smaller birds give us their different notes, and are 
 building or preparing to build within sight of our win- 
 dows. This, even in life's decline, I consider a privilege 
 to my children, my grand-children, and myself, who, al- 
 though with difi"erent eyes, and perhaps difierent emotions, 
 yet each in our own way, are, I hope, allowably pleased 
 with objects so animating, and, — as the works of infinite 
 goodness and power, — so perfect and so lovely. 
 
 No. 170. To Richard Cockin. 
 
 1830, 4 mo. 22. — That sufi'erings abound in the world, 
 in the church, and in private life, neither of us has need to 
 be reminded ; and therefore, thought it is well to guard 
 every point, I have thought thy caution, that, " elderly 
 persons should beware of supineness," may not be so appli- 
 cable to thee and me, as the danger of a contrary extreme 
 from undue discouragement, because of the trials that sur- 
 round us, and of fainting, — not sleeping, — under the bur- 
 dens of our day. 
 
283 
 
 For myself, I may acknowledge that herein consists my 
 greatest apprehension of falling short in the path of duty ; 
 so much so, that sometimes, when hard pressed from with- 
 out, and a sense of divin-e support low within, I fly to the 
 Scriptures for refuge, and am at seasons not a little com- 
 forted and strengthened by so doing. On one of these 
 occasions lately, my grain of faith and hope was increased, 
 by a clearer view of the parable of the unjust Judge and the 
 importunate Widow, than I remember to have had before. 
 If a wicked mortal, from no worthier a motive than his 
 own ease, would grant a petition, how much more proba- 
 ble, even to the eye of reason, is it, that a Being, whose 
 very essence is love, and who is clothed with every perfect 
 and adorable attribute, should listen to the prayers of his 
 poor and afflicted children, and, in the language of the 
 text, avenge his own elect, who cry day and night unto 
 Him ; though, to their fearful heai*ts, He may seem at 
 times to delay his coming, and bear long with them. 
 
 Innumerable are the passages, both in the 01(^,and New 
 Testament Scriptures, from which the Christian traveller 
 may derive comfort and support, in low and trying sea- 
 sons ; especially from such precious promises and assur- 
 ances of the blessed Redeemer as these ; " Fear not, little 
 flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the 
 kingdom." (Luke, xiii. 32.) " Let not your heart be 
 troubled ; ye believe in God, believe also in me." (John, 
 xiv. 1.) And again, " Let not your heart be troubled, 
 neither let it be afraid." (John, xiv. 27.) Indeed the 
 whole of this chapter is a series of encouragement, instruc- 
 tion, and comfort. 
 
 What a treasure, then, is the Bible ! This is so much 
 my real sentiment, that I am not ashamed to own to thee, 
 
284 
 
 that in these seasons of obscurity and temptation, which 
 may perhaps assail many of us, when invisible things ap- 
 pear remote, and are seen as through a glass darkly ; — in 
 some of these times of sore buffetting and trial, I have been 
 ready to lay my hands upon the sacred volume, and ex- 
 claim, Well ! here is something tangible, even to my 
 senses, to be at once seen, felt, and imderstood ; contain- 
 ing narrative, doctrine, and truth ; and altogether forming 
 such a degree of evidence of its divine authority, and of 
 the eternal realities whereof it assures us, as I trust neither 
 the sophistry of man nor the malice of the devil shall 
 ever prevail with me to doubt, still less to renounce and 
 disbelieve. 
 
 In whatever we two may err, I believe we shall not be 
 in much hazard of seeking repose upon the rolling and 
 uneasy pillow of this world, to which I sometimes think 
 almost every day adds a thorn. Can we, however favoured 
 and privileged may be our lot, rest in such a situation ? 
 May we be equally preserved from relaxing in our warfare, 
 and from fainting before it be accomplished ! and then, 
 through Him who forgiveth our sins, and giveth us the 
 victory, even our Lord Jesus Christ, we shall experience a 
 blessed and glorious exchange. 
 
 1 do not write thus, my dear friend, to instruct thee in 
 these things, with which I know thou art well acquainted ; 
 but I have thought it may not be amiss for us now and 
 then to remind ourselves, and each other, of truth so im- 
 portant. By thus comparing our experience, we may 
 also, to use the language of a poet, be instrumental " in 
 girding up each other to the race divine and this might 
 be a kindness to some of us, in whom nature grows feeble, 
 and to whom the end of this race must be fast approaching. 
 
285 
 
 No. 171. To JOSIAU FoRSTER. 
 
 Leiston, 1830, 6 mo. 2. — On approaching the bed of 
 niy dear Lydia I found that her disorder had made such 
 progress, as to disqualify her for converse ; so that, al- 
 though sensible and apparently pleased to see me, she 
 could only reply to my query, if her mind was peaceful, 
 by a whisper in the affirmative, and in about three hours 
 she expired. This is quite a stroke upon us. Her poor 
 Imsband, who considers himself to have been very happily 
 married, suffers deeply and internally, whilst I am able to 
 offer him very little consolation. 
 
 How true it is, that our fairest theories, or even our 
 former experience, avail us little, in the extremity of sor- 
 row, which, like a tempest or a torrent, carries them be- 
 fore it. Affliction was no new thing to me. I had lost 
 parents, wife, children, and many friends of different ages ; 
 yet the present visitation found me encompassed by hu- 
 man infirmity ; it came over me somewhat like the strength 
 of a giant upon the weakness of a child ; and had not 
 those fountains been opened, which seem to have been mer- 
 cifully designed for the relief of a labouring breast, per- 
 haps, old and feeble as I am, I might scarcely have been 
 able to sustain the load. 
 
 At it is, however, I am as well as it is at all reasonable 
 to expect, and probably as is good for me ; thougli I al- 
 ways expect to feel a void, in addition to many former 
 ones, which nothing earthly can fill ; and as my dear child 
 was beloved by those who knew her, I doubt not but di- 
 rers will participate with me in this state of bereavement. 
 But, amidst all our tribulation, some of us are enabled to 
 
286 
 
 rejoice, in the precious hope that another prepared spirit, 
 is, through the merits of its Redeemer and the mercy of 
 its God, entered into everlasting rest. 
 
 The last portion of Scripture which Lydia heard, I 
 think on the day previous to her departure, was the two 
 last chapters in the Revelations, which, as they are very 
 beautiful, so I have also thought they might not be inap- 
 propriate to such a scene in such an hour. 
 
 A certain learned and pious writer has been very severe 
 upon those who die of what he designates a broken heart, 
 charging them with pride and self-will, if not with mad- 
 ness. But so did not He who took upon him our nature, 
 became a man of s'irrows, and wept for his friend. Esti- 
 mable as I hold those sublime and amiable virtues, pa- 
 tience and resignation, I would rather weep incessantly 
 over the graves of such as honest grief, " which comes at 
 God's command," had accelerated thither, than load their 
 memory with reproach. I do not mean by this an apology 
 for giving way to immoderate sorrow ; on the contrary, I 
 believe we ought to do all we can to suppress it, and even 
 to pray for due submission. And it may, perhaps, afford 
 thee some satisfaction to know, that, at the present junc- 
 ture, I am able, though with tender emotion, to kiss the 
 rod, and bless the hand that hath appointed it. 
 
 No. 172. To Joseph Gurney. 
 
 1830, 6 mo. 26. — It is almost with weeping, that I ex- 
 press my apprehension that each of us may, by nature, be 
 rather too sensitive for our peace ; yet who would wish 
 for apathy ? 
 
287 
 
 I think I understand pretty well, not only the " mist," 
 which thou sayest great excitement raises around thee ; but 
 I find that it also in no inconsiderable degree, enervates 
 and disinclines me for active engagements, and particu- 
 larly for writing ; so that, whilst I can thankfully rejoice 
 in the mental support vouchsafed to us both under recent 
 and existing trials, I can readily believe that there is 
 another part in us, which, like a leaf shaken by the wind, 
 is really feeble and tremulous. An apostle has told us 
 that when he was weak then he was strong ; and may not 
 the converse of his experience be equally true ? 
 
 Of our dear children, both of those departed and such 
 as are yet spared to us, I frequently think ; and since my 
 late bereavement of one very tenderly beloved, I have 
 been struck with the different sensations which these 
 remembrances of the two classes excite in my mind. For 
 those who have died in the hope of mercy and forgive- 
 ness through a blessed Mediator I feel a congratulation, 
 comparable to joy unspeakable, on account of their being 
 now set free from the dangers of temptation, the recurrence 
 of sorrows, or the frequent visits of bodily and mental 
 pain, to which humanity is liable. Whilst for those who 
 with myself yet remain in a state of conflict and proba- 
 tion, whatever may be their condition or their prospects, 
 there is not the same assurance of safety, the same com- 
 pleteness of satisfaction : they are as on a sea of glass, 
 and if I venture to rejoice over them at all, it is with 
 mingled emotion. 
 
288 
 
 No. 173. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 Leiston, 1830, 7 ««o- 8. — 1 reached this widowed spot 
 about half-past ten on the evening after we parted. 
 The morning's dawn did not bring with it the joy that 
 succeeds a night of anxiety. It being meeting-day 
 I went where, though surrounded principally by the 
 poor of this world, yet, as I believe there are some 
 amongst them rich in faith, I was enabled once more to 
 rise out of depression into a little fresh renewal of faith 
 and hope, under the impression, that, though there appear 
 in most places to be few tliat believe the Gospel, and still 
 fewer who act up to their knowledge and belief, yet that 
 there are a few scattered up and down as one of a tribe 
 and two of a family, both rich and poor, who do thus be- 
 lieve and are endeavouring to obey ; and that, though 
 they may often have to dwell solitarily, both outwardly 
 and inwardly, yet that they are not alone, because their 
 Saviour is with them. lie is with them, whether they 
 are always sensible of his presence or not, in heights and 
 in depths, in prosperity and adversity, in joy and in sor- 
 row ; yea, though they may at times have to pass through 
 the valley of the shadow of death, (for we are in deaths 
 oft, saith the apostle,) they need fear no evil, because He 
 is their omnipresent God, and because his rod and his 
 stalF are ever near to comfort and uphold them. So that, 
 without appropriating all this preciousness as that of my 
 own immediate experience, the bare contemplation of it 
 so far restored me to myself, as to make me glad I had 
 been to meeting, and has caused me to remember the ex- 
 ample of David, who, in times of difficulty and discourage- 
 
289 
 
 nient, was wont to repair to the sanctuary, where he often 
 found his doubts and his fears dissipated, his hopes re- 
 vived, and the obscurity which hung upon his patli 
 changed into brightness and serenity. What a favour it 
 is, my beloved friend, as thou well knowest, involved as 
 we sometimes are, to approximate, ever so remotely, to 
 these blessed attainments and experiences. Let us not 
 seek great things for ourselves of any kind ; but let us 
 desire with all fervency, for ourselves and for each other, 
 the blessing of sure preservation ! 
 
 No. 174. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1830, 9 mo. 24. — There is one thing in thy letter which 
 really cheers me ; it is the use thou art endeavouring to 
 make of the present permitted dispensation of an over- 
 ruling and all-wise Providence ; of whose unremitting and 
 universal attention to mundane affairs, however mysterious 
 in its operations, or however difficult we may sometimes 
 find it to submit to its government, yet of such a govern- 
 ment I am, both by my understanding, my feelings, and 
 my experience, most fully persuaded. 
 
 1 was both much pleased and satisfied with the con- 
 cluding remarks of that part of thy letter which alludes to 
 the imbecility and nothingness of man. I well know that 
 those who plead for his self-sufficiency deride and oppose 
 this humiliating doctrine ; still I firmly believe it ; and some- 
 times, in thought at least, bring against these minute philo- 
 sophers and imperfect religionists, these words of the hymn: 
 " A fever or a blow may shake 
 Our wisdom's boasted rule, 
 And of the brightest genius make 
 A madman or a fool." 
 
 0 
 
290 
 
 Now, who is it that prevents or controls the effects of 
 the fever or the blow ? what hand unseen could in a mo- 
 ment resume our spirit and our breath ; consign our bodies 
 to the dust, and send our souls, naked and trembling, be- 
 fore the judgment-seat of Christ ? Or, on the brighter 
 side of the question, what power is it that defends and 
 preserves us amidst innumerable perils, robs death of its 
 sting, and the grave of its victory ; making objects the 
 most appalling in their nature, welcome in all their hu- 
 miliations ? 
 
 I would only show, if I understand thee, how far we are 
 agreed in our views of a superintending and particular 
 Providence, (see better authority than ours, in the ninety- 
 first Psalm, and in the ever-memorable sermon of our 
 blessed Redeemer on the Mount,) contingent rather than 
 fixed or necessary, which I think keeps us clear of a diffi- 
 culty, that I am always very desirous of avoiding. 
 
 Farewell, dear J. and M. May grace, mercy, and peace 
 attend you ! What a comprehensive benediction ! yet I 
 think I feel it. 
 
 No. 175. To Pktek Bedford. 
 
 1830, 9 mo. 27. — The sorrows of the widow and the 
 orphan — the difficulties which some have to encounter in 
 their struggles with the world — the dereliction of others 
 whose early days promised better things — the removal by 
 death or otlicrwise of several hopeful young people, can- 
 not and ought not to be viewed by me with indifference ; 
 n the contrary, they sometimes affect me in a manner 
 ivhich I cannot easily describe. 
 
291 
 
 In the superintendence of infinite and inscrutable wis- 
 dow, I liope I am, in niy lowest seasons, a firm believer ; 
 and in my deepest afflictions I trust it is my endeavour to 
 cling to the Rock of Ages, as my only refuge, my only 
 hope of glory. (See a beautiful and excellent hymn, en- 
 titled " Christ the Rock of Ages," in Gurney's collection.) 
 May nothing, according to the apostle's persuasion, ever 
 be able to separate ^is from this love of God, which is in 
 Christ Jesus our Lord ! (Rom. viii. 38, 39.) 
 
 No. 176. To Joseph Gurney.* 
 
 1830, 9 mo. 30. — In answer to thy inquiry after my 
 health, I may acknowledge, and I trust with some degree 
 of thankfulness, that it is good ; and as to the state of my 
 mind, with due allowance for what I suppose we shall al- 
 ways have to make allowance, as " the evils sufficient for 
 the day," I perhaps have as little reason to complain. I 
 have no doubt but we shall individually agree in the senti- 
 ment, to which thou hast alluded, that were it not for the 
 belief " in a joyful resurrection," how poor would this 
 world be ! May we not devoutly say, " Thanks be imto 
 God," who hath provided us with a means adequate to our 
 wants, in the gift of his Holy Spirit ; though, according 
 to the highest authority, all the benefits we can enjoy on 
 
 * This appears to have been his last letter to his intimate, 
 long-loved, and justly valued friend, Joseph Gurney, of Lakenhaiii, 
 near Norwich, who died very suddenly on tlie 25th of the 12tli 
 month following, in his seventy-fourth year ; a minister justly 
 esteemed among friends ; a man of great integrity and self-ex- 
 amination ; and much attached to our Christian principles. 
 
 o 2 
 
292 
 
 earth will be mingled with " persecutions aLo ;" and again, 
 " In the world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good 
 cheer, I have overcome the world." Thus said the blessed 
 Redeemer, at an advanced and very important period of 
 his mission to fallen man; and being so near it, I will just 
 add, that the reading of the succeeding chapter, the seven- 
 teenth of John, generally inspires me with a feeling pe- 
 culiar to the occasion, which I will not, and I believe to 
 thee I need not, attempt to describe. 
 
 I am glad that such good accounts can be given of the 
 labours of the Committee of the Yearly Meeting, as it 
 seems have reached us both from different quarters. So 
 far as it has already proceeded, this measure of the Yearly 
 Meeting appears to have been favoured, perhaps in few 
 things more than by increasing the knowledge and the 
 love of the visiters and visited, towards each other. This 
 must be good, and may we not hope that, like bread cast 
 ii]5on the waters, it will be productive of benefits, some of 
 wliich may not be fully elicited until many days hence. 
 
 No. 177. — To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1830, 12 mo. 6. — I was pleased with thy sketch of the 
 grand scenery of some of our northern counties, and thy 
 connecting it with a line from a beautiful and devout pas- 
 sage of my favourite Cowper, made it not the less ac- 
 ceptable. There, too, it seems, thou hast found a poet's 
 corner, wliich, surrounded by mountain, lake, and river, I 
 should, as a lover of nature, greatly prefer to a garret, or 
 even a parlour, in the crowded city full. In many re- 
 spects, I think such a situation must be very favourable to 
 
293 
 
 literary pursuits, if, by thus abstracting us from praotical 
 sul)jects, it does not too much favour dreaming. 
 
 It might be well, however, that thou wast cast there, 
 and a part of thy proper business that thou hadst an oi)por- 
 tunity of endeavouring to rouse a certain celebrated author, 
 from some of his reveries, into which, whilst I acknowledge 
 his talents, I think he has proved himself liable to a fall, 
 perhaps both in prose and in verse. To some such cause 
 may probably be attributed his classing Friends, as I think 
 he has done, in his " Book of the Church" among the crazier 
 sects. If neither to slumber nor to absence, to what must 
 we ascribe this strange expression ? I can find only one 
 other solution — that the discipline of our Society, which 
 by way of distinction we may call its morality, and for 
 which he gives us high credit, was intelligible to his under- 
 standing; whilst the more spiritual parts of our profession, 
 or its divinity, may have been as little comprehended by 
 him as was the worship of the early Christians by those 
 who called it heresy, or the reasoning of the apostle before 
 Agrippa, when Festus thought him mad. 
 
 'ith. — How desirable is it for us at all times, but par- 
 ticularly under existing circumstances, to keep our hold, as 
 much as possible, on such sustaining portions of Scripture 
 as this : " Greater is He that is in you than he that 
 is in the world ; " and it is worthy of observation how 
 much they abound, both in the Old and New Testament, 
 especially in the Psalms. David was often in danger and 
 in trouble ; and in his deepest conflicts he endeavoured to 
 support hi.s faith by considerations of the wisdom, power, 
 and goodness of the Lord. He has described these exer- 
 cises under various forms of expression, which seem to be 
 summed up in one brief sentence : " What time I am 
 
294 
 
 afraid, I will trust in Thee." May we, my dear friend, in 
 all our difficulties, be able to center here ! 
 
 I can scarcely quit this ground without making a short 
 remark upon the extraordinary scenes, that, within these 
 few latter years, have been passing before our eyes in the 
 higher circles of human society. How, indeed, have the 
 mighty fallen ! — some into their graves, others into exile ; 
 whilst not a few of various nations have become the sport 
 of popular vicissitude, and, in proportion to the height 
 of their previous elevation, have, as I think Dr. Johnson 
 expresses it, been hurled from the very pinnacle of their 
 possessions and desires, with louder ruin, to the gulfs be- 
 low. 
 
 But when thus indulging in freedom to a friend, I am 
 sometimes, as at present, jealous, lest I should assume a 
 tone that does not become me, and thereby any should be 
 led to think more highly of me than they ought to think ; 
 which truly they must do, if they think me anything of 
 myself that is good : in this sense, abstractedly, I am no- 
 thing. And not so much that I may appear humble, as 
 that thou mayst not be mistaken, to thee I will say, that 
 it would afford me a satisfaction, which, in this life I 
 scarcely hope to possess, if negation were all : but, alas ! 
 for niy deeper and more positive abasement, I have to con- 
 fess, that, in the time of ignorance, I classed among the 
 chief of sinners, and, since my illumination, I have never 
 been able to rise higher than the weakest and most un- 
 worthy of believers. Yes ; such, my dear friend, have 
 been and are my humiliations, that, in truth and soberness, 
 I believe this to be a faithful portrait. Yet, oh ! the for- 
 giveness of sins, through the sufferings and mediation of 
 Jesus Christ ! Having received a glimpse of this mercy 
 
295 
 
 I faint not, but with feeble and faltering steps endeavour 
 to press towards the mark for the prize of the high calling 
 of God in Christ Jesus. 
 
 No. J 78. To JOSIAII FORSTER. 
 
 J 830, 12 mo. 14. — Is not the destroyer gone forth, [|al- 
 luding to incendiary fires, then prevailing to an alarming 
 extent in some of the agricultural counties,] and does he 
 not, though not in the form of pestilence, yet in a very 
 terrific shape, walk in darkness ? Happy will it be for those 
 whose doors have received the mark of protection ; but who 
 dare appropriate to themselves even the hope of such a 
 distinguished mercy ! For myself, I am free to acknowledge 
 that I find it easier to believe than to hope. I have no 
 doubt of the power, wisdom, and mercy of the Creator and 
 Governor of the world, God over all, blessed for ever. I 
 firmly believe ; but in the face of such unworthiness, to 
 hope, seems to require a deeper exercise of faith. And yet 
 can we expect too much, so long as we are dedicated and 
 obedient, from Him who has promised the forgiveness of 
 .sins ; and whose beloved Son has given us an assurance, 
 sealed with his'own blood, of immortality and eternal life, 
 in a future and a better world ? 
 
 Here then, my beloved friend, kept from soaring by 
 fear, and from sinking by hope, let us take our stand ; dili- 
 gently watching the eye of our gracious Lord and Master ; 
 and when the signal is given, taking a step in the ability 
 which He may be pleased to afi"ord ; and let us also try to 
 believe that this will be equal to the trials of our day. 
 As thy day so shall thy strength be. 
 
296 
 
 No. 179. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1831, 3 mo. 15. — Whether we appear amiable or ex- 
 cellent in the sight of man, whose is the glory ? Surely 
 not unto us, 0 Lord, not unto us ! weak, vile, and unwor- 
 thy as we are by nature, but unto thy name be the praise, 
 for tliy mercy and thy truth's sake. Self-complacency is 
 bad — self-righteousness is worse ; for " if we wash our 
 liands in snow-water, and make them never so clean," my 
 judgment, perhaps I might say my experience, tells me 
 that it is of preventing or assisting grace, that " we are 
 not plunged into the ditch, so that our own clothes should 
 abhor us." And were we perversely to continue in mis- 
 using and misapplying the Lord's gifts, there is much rea- 
 son to apprehend that our fall, as that of some awful ex- 
 amples, might be great and deplorable. 
 
 Therefore, may a wise and gracious God honour us or 
 not, as He sees meet, and in his own way and time — let us 
 be careful, according to the ability afforded us, to return 
 thanks, under every varied dispensation of his unerring 
 wisdom ! And have we, my beloved friend, ever known 
 sweeter peace than when, in true resignation, we could 
 adopt (and it is then only we can adopt) this memorable 
 line, 
 
 " For all I bless Thee, most for the severe." ' 
 
 This is, indeed, the solemn feast of feeling ; and here is 
 tlie Sabbath of the mind. 
 
297 
 
 No. ISO. To JOSIAH FORSTER.* 
 
 1831, 5 mo. 4. — After we parted at Leeds, 1 did not 
 reach Gedney until last sixth-day evening, which we were 
 all then favoured to do in safety. On entering my native 
 county, for which, with all its faults, I may perhaps feel 
 something of the predilection which I believe is common 
 to man for his home ; yet making allowance for this, I am 
 ready to think it does possess, in an agricultural point of 
 view at least, some real advantages over most other coun- 
 ties I have seen. It probably contains a greater proportion 
 of good land, and a much smaller one of land entirely out 
 of cultivation ; and as the result of these causes, a better 
 condition of the labouring poor, particularly as respects 
 their food and clothing, their comfortable cottages and 
 gardens ; nor am I inclined hastily to admit a sentiment 
 which I know has gone abroad, of our being so much as is 
 imagined, behind most other places in the different branches 
 of education, religious, moral, or literary. 
 
 It is indeed true, that we have not so many public 
 schools, either infant or adult ; nor may we have an equal 
 number of reading or scientific associations. These ac- 
 knowledged advantages, the dispersed character of our 
 agricultural population, in many parts, to a considerable 
 extent and degree, almost necessarily precludes. But in 
 the most remote situations with which I am acquainted, 
 may generally be found, either in the nearest village, or it 
 may be under the solitary roof of some aged female, the 
 means of acquiring the common rudiments of learning, in 
 
 * Written after a visit to the meetings of Friends in Yorkshire, 
 under appointment of tlie Yearly Meeting. 
 
 o 5 
 
298 
 
 connexion with what seems of nearly eqiial importance, 
 and which the meanest of these Uttle seminaries are, I 
 believe, found in no very small degree to impart, habits of 
 cleanliness, quiet, subordination, and diligence. 
 
 Nor ought we in this review entirely to overlook the 
 great number of Dissenters, and their places for worship ; 
 especially the ^lethodists, that are to be found in various 
 parts, w^here, fifty years ago, from seclusion and poverty, 
 the inhabitants were very much neglected. In these se- 
 questered spots, we may now frequently find the neat little 
 meeting-house, with its useful auxiliary', the " Sunday" or 
 Evening School, each contributing, though in a hidden and 
 unobstrusive manner, to the civilization and improvement 
 of the lower orders of the people. 
 
 As much of what I have just premised might escape 
 the notice even of the traveller, who should visit only a 
 few of our principal to^vns, in search of information on 
 the question of intellectual improvement, I am the more 
 inclined to say a little to thee on the subject ; not merely 
 as an apology for a district which I think has been some- 
 what under-rated, but also because I know thee to be 
 interested in these matters. Wilt thou allow me one word 
 more ? Our peasants, both parents and children, will I 
 believe be found to give to a stranger as civil an answer, 
 and in as intelligible language, as he will meet with else- 
 where : and if in this I do not miscalculate, I must think 
 it a criterion of some weight. 
 
 To turn now from the progress of mental to that of the 
 material soil, I find, that, in some places, such as what was 
 fonnerly denominated Lincoln heath, and the Weald or 
 Wolds, the improvement is very great. Within the me- 
 mory of man, these portions of our county presented a 
 
299 
 
 wild and bleak appearance, being principally open and 
 occupied as rabbit-warrens ; whereas, they are now almost 
 entirely well inclosed, producing good crops of corn, 
 turnips, and seeds, or artificial grasses. This applies to 
 the higher lands, whilst in the lower division of Holland, 
 in which is to be found dear Gedney, the rich appearance 
 of our best old pastures in this fine spring, long accustomed 
 as I have been to see them, almost surprises me. When 
 these are contrasted, not only with the moors, but with a 
 great proportion of inclosed and cultivated land in York- 
 shire, I am not at much loss to account for the extreme 
 difliculty which many occupiers of poor soil at high rents 
 find, in obtaining a bare subsistence, or that they feel 
 themselves driven by a strong necessity from their country . 
 I should like to walk with thee over some of our best 
 grazing land, a small proportion of the whole, which is 
 just now in its brightest appearance ; the grass is so 
 thick, so small in its blade, so verdant in its colour, so 
 short and so soft to the foot, that altogether it might 
 almost require a poet fully to describe it. However, in 
 my sober language, it happens to be beauty which I have 
 eyes to see ; and viewing it as I do, I am reconciled to my 
 lowly allotment, although I am aware that wit has at one 
 time called it a " land of frogs ;" and at another " the 
 jjaradise of graziers and gosherds." 
 
 And thus, my friend, we are almost brought to the 
 conclusion, that it does not much signify where a man's 
 home is, if he is but contented ; and whilst we allow the 
 mountaineer to be delighted with the hill that lifts him 
 to the storm, we may by the same rule suffer the inha- 
 bitants of a lower region to rejoice in the plain that feeds, 
 and to commend the bog that bears him. 
 
300 
 
 I had almost determined to make P. and his sister, my 
 representatives to the Yearly fleeting ; but on trying it, 
 it did not seem quite satisfactory. I must therefore, though 
 I am altogether unworthy of appearing in such a cause, 
 prepare to meet it. May I, and may all who engage in 
 it, be preserved, as on the right hand, and on the left ! 
 
 No. 181. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1831, 7 15. — Thy truly welcome letter found me 
 somewhat, as thou seemest to have anticipated, if not 
 overspread by the horror of great darkness, which is said 
 to have fallen upon the father of the faithful, yet covered by 
 a cloud so dense and obscure, as to be almost impervious 
 to my spiritual vision. So that whilst the outward 
 creation of which I am an admirer was smiling around me, 
 birds singing, flowers blooming, sheep and oxen en- 
 livening, by their various motions, the pastures on which 
 they quietly grazed, every animated being • cheerful, and 
 inanimate ones gay ; yet, alas, for poor man ! the fallen 
 lord of all this loveliness, it remains for him occasionally 
 and deservedly to prove his exile, even from these splendid 
 ruins of Paradise ; it is for him to know, as I cannot 
 doubt, but thou, my beloved friend, as well as myself hast 
 often experienced — 
 
 " How ill the scenes that oflfier rest, 
 And heart that cannot rest, agree." 
 
 Since writing this sentence, I opened upon a hymn which 
 proved as I have often experienced, how interesting it is to 
 find our thoughts and troubles expressed by a congenial 
 
301 
 
 mind, though this may deprive us of all claim to originality,, 
 
 " How tedious and tasteless the hours, 
 When Jesus no longer I see ! 
 Sweet prospects, sweet birds, and sweet flowers, 
 Have lost all their sweetness for me." 
 
 Thus circumstanced or nearly thus, it is no wonder 
 that I was cheered by thy letter. We, I trust, are no 
 strangers to the evil of our own hearts : the condition of 
 our religious society, and of practical religion generally, is 
 confessedly low ; whilst the state of the multitude, under 
 every name and in every country, appears to be truly 
 affecting. And are not these legitimate causes for sorrow, 
 yea for mourning ? so deep, that it is a great favour to be 
 enabled either by immediate or instrumental means, to 
 keep our heads above water ; but how opportunely do 
 we often find these helps are vouchsafed to us, in tliat 
 mercy which does not suffer us to be tried beyond that we 
 are able to bear, but with tlie temptation provides a way 
 to escape, as saith the apostle, that ye may be able to 
 bear it. 
 
 I6tk. — There is one thing: which occasioned me some 
 exercise in London, and has attended me since I came 
 home, — a jealousy or fear, lest amid the shakings to which 
 thou hast alluded, and which do indeed threaten to disturb 
 everything that can be shaken, — I have been, and am 
 anxious, lest at such a time any of my dear kindred or 
 friends should be moved from the one only true founda- 
 tion, the Rock of Ages, Jesus Christ the righteous, and 
 Him crucified. O that none of us may be either driven 
 or allured from the foot of his cross ! 
 
 To prevent in times like the present this greatest of all 
 calamities happening to us, must, I apprelicnd, require on 
 
302 
 
 our part close watchfulness unto prayer ; as it is quite to 
 be believed that our unwearied spiritual adversary will 
 not omit so favourable an opportunity for practising upon 
 lis ; it may be, both as a lion, a serpent, an angel of 
 light, a reformer, or a philosopher ? "We shall have need 
 therefore of a wisdom superior to his, or to our own, to 
 discover him under any of his transformations, and of a 
 power above all the power of the enemy, even the whole 
 armour of light, to resist him when discovered. 
 
 It is, I think, one of the weaknesses of human nature ; 
 and one I also believe of which our enemy often seeks 
 to avail himself, when we are honestly endeavouring to 
 avoid one extreme to hurry us into another, overstepping 
 truth and rectitude, which will be generally found to He 
 between them : — thus, in departing from what now appears 
 to be the striking singularity of a costume, which two 
 centuries ago I suppose had nothing uncommon about it ; 
 but which, by the youth of our Society of latter time, 
 seems to have been considered as a cross unnecessarily 
 severe, or somewhat like a yoke too grievous to be borne ; 
 whilst I admit that mere form may be overrated, and can 
 of itself avail us little, I do believe that the true Christian 
 will always be distinguished by his moderation, his hu- 
 mility, and even his singularity. If, in this evil day, we 
 sustain the character described in the first verse of the 
 Psalms, we shall find it as true an anxiom that, to be light 
 we must often be singular ; so that, in relaxing, as we 
 appear in some instances to be doing, from what perhaps 
 may be considered the rigours of our ancient practice, I do 
 very earnestly desire we may stop at the right point, at 
 that common, and if we may so say, that simple simpli- 
 city in dress, language, and furniture, which may be read 
 
 i 
 
303 
 
 and understood of all men, in all times ; preserving those 
 who through faith and obedience are concerned to walk 
 therein, out of tlie fearful, costly, and troublesome whirl- 
 pool of fashion, the vain customs, maxims, and sinful 
 delight of a fallen and degenerate world, lying in wicked- 
 ness. 
 
 Thou wilt perhaps think I am expressing myself rather 
 earnestly ; but it is indeed my conviction, that, from des- 
 pising the day of small things, many have fallen by little 
 and little ; and that, if these ever rise again to usefulness 
 in our Society, it must be by a close attention to what they 
 are too apt to consider minor particulars, which in my 
 view of them are only portions of a chain, from which, 
 whether we apply the figure to a law of nature or of grace, 
 whatever link we strike, disorganizes the whole. 
 
 For similar reasons, I have desired that in this critical, 
 not to say captious age, we may not suffer ourselves to be 
 inadvertently led into vain disputation on points that liave 
 been long and well settled ; for though it is undoubtedly 
 right to give a reason to those who rightly inquire of the 
 hope that is in us, yet, where questions are put in mere 
 curiosity, or, which is worse, in a cavilling spirit, I believe 
 silence would generally be best for all parties. For this I 
 think we have the highest example and authority. If 
 wise men knew by what sort of characters and from what 
 sort of motives they are sometimes interrogated, they 
 would think their time and talents sadly wasted by 
 feeding a disjjosition, whicli in my opinion wants starving, 
 if it were possible, even to death. I think thou wilt 
 understand what sort of querists, scarcely deserving the 
 name of disputants, I mean ; the very last I am sure thou 
 wouldst wish to encourage : and I have some reason for 
 
304 
 
 the sentiments I have just expressed, however uncharitahle 
 they may at first sight appear. 
 
 In making a few general remarks on the writings of our 
 early predecessors, I would that we always ajjproached 
 them with caution and tenderness, treading lightly on the 
 ashes or remains of the honourable dead. With the con- 
 troversies of these ancient worthies, or their manner of 
 conducting them according to the spirit of their age, we 
 have now, I apprehend, little or nothing to do. Neither 
 are we called upon to imitate or defend the sometimes ob- 
 scure and mysterious, or, compared with that of the pre- 
 sent day, almost absolute tautology of their style. One 
 thing it may be well for us to remember, that, from these 
 voluminous works, abounding, as they confessedly do with 
 great redundancy of expression, may be extracted an 
 essence of as pure and sublime truth — if we except the 
 Holy Scriptures, and their authors, — as perhaps ever fell 
 from the lips or flowed from the pen of man ; so that on 
 the whole I am inclined to believe the best apology for the 
 writings in question, if indeed they need one, would be an 
 attentive and unprejudiced perusal of them, when they 
 would perhaps be found to be their best, and perhaps alto- 
 gether sufficient expositiors. 
 
 As to my health I believe it to be pretty good, though 
 I often seem to myself very languid, and as one declining ; 
 yet not so as to prevent my enjoying the deep retirement 
 of my outward habitation, even whilst viewing it as a 
 prelude to still deeper shades. Desire for me, my dear 
 friend, when thou canst, that, whenever summoned to the 
 dark passage of the grave, it may only prove to me, 
 through the mercy of God in Christ Jesus, a dim portal to 
 eternal glory. 
 
305 
 
 No. 182. To Carolina Harris. 
 
 ]831, 7 w^o. 27. — In addressing an "elect lady," I 
 think the beloved disciple tells her, that he rejoiced greatly 
 because he found of her children walking in the truth ; 
 an experience that I apprehend may have been realized by 
 many a parent and elder since his day, both on account of 
 their own, and the offspring of tlieir dear friends. Would 
 that none of them had proved the reverse of this experience 
 to be equally true, namely, that, in the course of their pil- 
 grimage they had found no greater sorrow, tlian in behold- 
 ing so many who were endeared to them by the tender 
 ties of nature and of friendship, walking not in, but out of 
 this most excellent rule of faith and life, — the truth as it 
 is in Jesus. 
 
 Could young persons be made fully sensible how much 
 it is in their power to increase or diminish the happiness 
 of age, that it is for them either to strew its pillow with 
 roses or to plant it witli thorns ; did they believe this, 
 I think some of them would pause before deciding on the 
 course they take ; and though it might be at considerable 
 sacrifice of inclination to duty, pursue a very different one. 
 For that the grey hairs of many a parent and parental 
 friend, have, since the times of the Patriarch who antici- 
 pated such a close of his life, been accelerated by sorrow 
 to the grave, is, I fear, a fact too evident to be doubted. 
 Yet even here we can scarcely forbear exclaiming, O the 
 excellence, the paramount superiority of the Christian 
 religion, above every system or sclieme devised by the 
 wisdom or the strength of man. In the most extreme 
 cases, Christianity offers a relief and a remedy to its af- 
 
306 
 
 flicted votaries of every character and under every circum- 
 stance. They find present relief in resignation and hope, 
 and ultimately a full recompense for all their sufferings in 
 the inefl^ible felicity, and the crown immortal, which await 
 the successful issue of their warfare. 
 
 So that whether the believer's sorrows be of a domestic 
 nature, which I think are the bitterest, or proceed from a 
 more extraneous source : whether he lanouish under the 
 severity of parents, the unkindness of a companion, the 
 undutifulness of children, or the unfaithfulness of a friend, 
 still, under any or every of these trials, he is not left 
 destitute ; an arm underneath supports him, and the lan- 
 guage of his trembling soul falters on his tongue : ' If the 
 little span of my life must be spent in grief, and my years 
 in sigliing ; if indeed I must die a lingering death upon the 
 painful cross of sorrow, yet enable me, I beseech Thee, 
 O Lord, as with my latest breath to whisper. Thy will, 
 thy holy and adorable will, and not mine, be done.' 
 
 I trust I am not insensible to the solemnity of a subject 
 into which I have been somewhat inadvertently led by a 
 desire to point towards a mark, which, who would venture 
 to say they have attained, yet who but would acknowledge 
 that it deeply concerns them to press after it ? 
 
 The lamentation by the prophet Isaiah, (chapter the 
 fifty-first,) — " There is none to guide her among all the 
 sons whom she has brought forth ; neither is there any 
 that taketh her by the hand of all the sons that she hath 
 brought up," is descriptive of the state of Jerusalem, when 
 she had neither sons nor daughters to care for her. I 
 have sometimes thought this may not only be applicable 
 to a city or a church, but even to the pious parent or 
 guardian of disobedient and gainsaying children. But 
 
307 
 
 waiving this particular point, there have been times in niy 
 experience, if I may venture to refer to it, when the three 
 last verses of the chapter just referred to have aflforded me 
 peculiar support, as being figuratively descriptive of or 
 comparable to the bottom of Jordan, preservation there, 
 and bringing up a stone of memorial from thence. 0 that 
 in every future swelling of this mighty stream, should 
 such be permitted, I may submissively enter the flood ; 
 and as with my head just above water stand still the ap- 
 pointed time ! 
 
 This language would probably appear mysterious, if not 
 unintelligible, to many a pious Christian, who may never 
 have been plunged into the depth to which it alludes, but 
 mercifully conducted on his spiritual journey, by a shorter 
 and easier course. Yet to those, and such I believe there 
 are, who have been safely brought through these conflict- 
 ing experiences ; to such a reader, the being put in remem- 
 brance of what themselves have passed through, may be 
 sweetly harmonious, as a morning or an evening song, on 
 the banks of deliverance. 
 
 No. 183. To Frances Thompson. 
 
 1831, 8 mo. 27. — I cannot dismiss from my mind, the 
 recollection of our having met for a short time at Plashet, 
 about the close of last Yearly Meeting. My remem- 
 brances of thee since have been attended with a pei-sua- 
 sion, that although we are but little personally acquainted, 
 yet that there is a place at which we sometimes meet ; 
 and divers circumstances wherein we are cordially agreed : 
 for do we not worship in the same temple, the temple of 
 the heart ? And though there may be times when under 
 a sense of the infinite distance and disparity of our poor 
 
308 
 
 souls from tlie source of all purity and perfection, we 
 scarcely dare to lift up our eyes to heaven ; yet are there 
 not also seasons when, emboldened by the long-sufl'ering 
 mercv extended towards us all our lives lontr, we ven- 
 ture with trembling adoration to bow before the same 
 altar, the altar of the living God, fervently beseeching 
 Him, that, by the means of his own appointment, the ad- 
 vocacy, mediation, and atoning sacrifice of his beloved Son 
 our Lord Jesus Christ, He would forgive our iniquities, 
 blot out our transgressions, and accept us freeh" for his 
 name's sake. 
 
 I feel something beyond a hope that thus at times our 
 minds are mutually engaged, and I express my belief of 
 its being so, not only for thy encouragement but my own, 
 of which I seem to myself often to stand in need, having 
 had to pass through many deep inward trials and mental 
 conflicts in the course of my experience. And I think 
 thou wilt aoree with me in the sentiment, that althouoh 
 we have not' lived in a day of outward persecution, yet it 
 has been, and still is, one wherein those who are able and 
 willing to suffer for the body's sake, which is the church, 
 have many a bitter cup to drink, and many a heavy 
 weight to bear. So that even whilst they are desirous of 
 conforming their wills to the divine will, and of accepting 
 with due submission their allotted share of trial, yet they 
 often find it difficult to continue sufficiently steadfast and 
 unmoveable, advancing with patient but persevering steps 
 in the race set before them, 
 
 With minds of this description, whenever I meet them, 
 my mind is brought into near and tender fellow-feeling, 
 desiring that through the compassionate regard of our sym- 
 pathizing Redeemer, we may, even whilst passing through 
 
309 
 
 this state of probation, this valley of tears, receive so much 
 of an earnest of a future inheritance, so much of the sub- 
 stance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen, 
 as may be sufficient to sustain and support us to the end 
 of our tribulated journey — and that when this period 
 shall arrive, in the consummation of that love which hath 
 loved us freely, we may receive the end of our faith, even 
 the salvation of our immortal souls. As this seems to be all 
 that the awakened mind can desire for itself, so it is that 
 for which, according to its ability, it should unceasingly 
 breathe for the whole world. Oh ! that it were possible 
 for this delightful anthem continually to live in our hearts, 
 " Glory to God in the highest : on earth, peace ; and good- 
 Avill towards men." 
 
 I seem to recollect thy asking me, if it was not rather 
 late in life when I first appeared as a minister, to which, 
 I think, I truly replied in the affirmative : it was in my 
 forty-ninth year — nor had I, contrary to what appears to 
 have been frequently the case, much previous intimation, 
 that such an apprehension of duty would ever be laid 
 upon me. But after many years of alternate sin and re- 
 pentance, much self-will, unbelief, and remorse, it pleased 
 Infinite Wisdom to bring me into a state of deep and com- 
 plicated affliction, and when I had nearly lost hope, to 
 make bare his holy arm for my deliverance, under a sense 
 whereof, at a time unlooked for by myself, my mouth was 
 first opened in a sort of burst of love and gratitude, nearly 
 in the expressions of David. Psalm, Ixviii. 4, 5. " Sing 
 unto God, sing praises to his name : extol Him that 
 ridetli upon the heavens by his name Jah, and rejoice be- 
 fore Him. A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the 
 widows is God in his holy habitation." Immediately on 
 
310 
 
 resuming my seat, a late valued mother in our Society, 
 l)eborah Darby, who was beside me, knelt down and 
 returned thanks that another had been added to the cloud 
 of witnesses. 
 
 Since this eventful circumstance in my spiritual history, 
 I have been feebly endeavouring to be faithful to the one 
 talent thus bestowed. That it was only one I conclude 
 from the impression accompanying it, that I must be con- 
 tent to be a little preacher, and the corresponding fact of 
 much expression at a time never having been required of 
 me ; but, on the contrary, I have been restricted to nar- 
 row limits and few words. So that as far as enlargement 
 in quantity may constitute a part of it, I have known 
 very little of what a growth in the gift means ; and to 
 preach a long sermon from any authority or qualification 
 I have hitherto experienced, would be quite as impossible 
 as working a miracle. For most truly indeed might I 
 adopt the language of Moses, Exodus, iv. 10. 
 
 Now this is humiliating to that part in us which would 
 rather be something than nothing, but need it therefore be 
 a just cause for discouragement ? I hope not, and I 
 really have sometimes derived a little further hope from 
 the very circumstance of being thus evidently circum- 
 scribed, independent of either my understanding or my 
 will, remembering the Apostle's language, " For if I do 
 this thing willingly I have a reward ; but if against my 
 will, (I would say, jjerhaps,) a dispensation of the Gospel 
 is committed unto me. 
 
 Having felt a liberty thus to commune with thee, my 
 esteemed friend, I trust in the spirit of those who of old 
 were described as fearing the Lord, and speaking often one 
 to another, may my offering, like theirs, be accepted in the 
 
311 
 
 sight of Him whom I desire to please and to serve. Slay 
 it also meet with thy sisterly indulgence, as a simple and 
 sincere effusion of brotherly or, if from the difference of our 
 age, thou thinks it more appropriate, my paternal remem- 
 brance and regard. 
 
 No. 184. To JOSIAII FORSTER. 
 
 1831, 9 mo. 2. — During my attendance of our last 
 Yearly Meeting as well as before and since, I have felt a 
 degree of anxiety, lest, in the present times of excitement 
 and agitation, (in which almost everything that can be 
 shaken seems to be put in motion,) any of the members of 
 our little Society should be drawn from the only sure 
 foundation — Jesus Christ the righteous. There can 
 scarcely be a doubt but that in such a season of general 
 commotion, our grand spiritual adversary will be very .ac- 
 tive in endeavouring to deceive the simple by his wiles, 
 and to mislead the inexperienced by his transformations ; 
 " but we," saith the apostle, " are not ignorant of his de- 
 vices." And some there are, of lower authority than Paul, 
 who have suffered too much by them, to forget the manner 
 in which and by whom they have been betrayed. These 
 know that their enemy can assume all colours and all cha- 
 racters. In times of persecution or adversity he is a roar- 
 ing lion or a ravening wolf ; whilst, in the smoother season 
 of prosperity and outward ease, he puts on the subtlety of 
 a serpent, becomes a reformer, a philosopher, and even, 
 when it may suit his purposes, an angel of light ; thus 
 leading from the simplicity of the truth, and from under 
 the power of the cross of Christ ; which, as they are his 
 greatest bane or opponents, so I think they will be ac- 
 
312 
 
 knowledged to constitute the strength and the beauty of 
 the Christian. So superlatively excellent are the orna- 
 ments of a meek and quiet spirit, that, althougli levity 
 may sometimes affect to despise, yet the sober judgment, 
 even of the scorner, is found by his own confession to ap- 
 prove them. 
 
 Entirely to change the subject, the operation of the 
 Beer-bill, in the country at least, I consider to be so de- 
 moralizing and mischievous, that I could scarcely express 
 my many objections to it in too strong language, and 
 therefore conclude it safest, as a man professing modera- 
 tion, to say but little. The following anecdote may afford 
 a little illustration. A poor but simple cottager, in speak- 
 ing to my daughter on the additional facilities and tempt- 
 ations to drunkenness which these new beer-shops afforded, 
 remarked, that they were enough to craze poor wives and 
 mothers. This woman, whom I know well, was, I believe, 
 too deeply versed in her argument to concede it to a na- 
 tion ; and she supported it by such a statement of facts as 
 I think neither the collective wisdom nor the collective 
 eloquence even of a British senate could gainsay or inva- 
 lidate. Thou mayst perhaps perceive, as is indeed the case, 
 that I am really grieved by this thing, which, though I 
 am very little of a politician, I cannot but consider to have 
 been a great error in legislation. Had the duty been taken 
 off malt, the whole family of a poor man might have de- 
 rived some benefit ; or even if tippling in these pothouses 
 had been prohibited, the mischief would not have been so 
 extensive. As it is, the whole weight of the law appears 
 to me to be on the side of vice and starvation. The men 
 get drunk abroad, whilst the women and children j)ine at 
 home. 
 
313 
 
 My mind is sometimes apt to be rather low, if I dwell 
 too long and exclusively upon human weakness in a state 
 of probation. Lifted up and cast down — changed from 
 vessel to vessel — alternately tossed like a ball from one 
 extreme to another, without ability to bear any of them 
 well : — thus exercised, is it surprising if poor nature should 
 shrink, and that, like the disciples at sea, we exclaim, 
 " Lord, carest thou not that we perish?" Yet weak as^ 
 we confessedly are, how have we been helped hitherto ! let 
 us not then despair, but hope to the end. 
 
 No. 185. To J. AND H. C. Backhouse. 
 
 1831, 9 mo. 29. — I sincerely hope the enemy of peace 
 who has sown discord in some other places, may not be 
 suffered to introduce it liere. And yet I am sometimes 
 jealous; and in these unsettled times, when everything 
 that can be shaken seems to be in motion, I have been of 
 late more than ordinarily jealous, lest he who beguiled 
 Eve by his subtlety, should by any means get an entrance 
 among us, if not as a lion or as a bear, yet under the 
 equally dangerous transformation of an angel of light, as 
 a guise more adapted to our present improved state of 
 education and intellectual refinement. 
 
 We know that learning has its appropriate temptations, 
 and knowledge its peculiar dangers ; so that, I think, with 
 all our acknowledged advantages, we have more need of 
 watchfulness against being puffed up or bewildered by 
 them, than might be the case with our rude forefathers, 
 though, doubtless, they had their temptations and trials 
 fitted to their state. For I quite believe tliat both the 
 unlearned and the learned, the wise and the ignorant, have 
 
 V 
 
314 
 
 one common enemy and one common salvation ; and that 
 this salvation is of the mercy of God in Christ Jesus, 
 through the blessed, eternal Spirit, to ■which I think the 
 New Testament bears abundant witness. And to you, my 
 valued friends, I can make the appeal, do we not find it 
 true in experience ? Oh, what should we be without the 
 appointed Saviour, in all his divine offices, and in the com- 
 pleteness of his character ? 
 
 As to Unitarianism, I consider it in many cases to be 
 the first step towards what thou hast justly denominated 
 something further on the road to destruction. I have a 
 very low opinion of that man's practical and consistent 
 Theism who denies the divinity of Christ. For what sig- 
 nify sopliistical distinctions, or the most sublime epithets 
 and exalted character, as applied only to the Father, if we 
 deny the Son, who has declared himself to be the way to 
 Him? 
 
 No. 186. To Peter Bedford, 
 
 1831, 10 mo. 31. — Under all the disadvantages and 
 humiliations of our poor yet dear little Society, there is, I 
 believe, amongst us a people, as in Israel of old, a remnant, 
 much overlooked it may be by the world, and even de- 
 spised by its Goliaths, who would not willingly bow the 
 knee to Baal or kiss his image. May this little band in- 
 crease ; and few though they appear, may we, under every 
 trial and mutation, be found enrolled among them ! 
 
 Locality of outward situation and circumstance are in 
 themselves very inferior considerations. Thus, in the shade 
 and retirement of country life, I have often found — 
 
315 
 
 How ill the scenes that offer rest, 
 And heart that cannot rest, agree. 
 
 Whilst, in the crowded and noisy metropolis, thou hast, I 
 doubt not, enjoyed tliat quiet habitation, into which the 
 Lord's children are at seasons permitted to enter ; a rest 
 which, as neither solitude nor silence can of themselves 
 procure, so neither can tumult much disturb, certainly not 
 destroy. Still, with poor Cowper, I love the country. 
 
 No. 187. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1831, 11 mo. 4. — The near approach of joining the 
 committee for visiting London and IMiddlesex Quarterly 
 Meeting is felt by me, in some proportion, I trust, to its 
 importance, to be indeed weighty. If I may judge by 
 my state of mind lately, I shall leave home in too great 
 weakness, to adopt the language of David's faith, when 
 he said, " Though a host should encamp against me, my 
 heart shall not fear ; tliough war shall rise against me, in 
 this will I be confident." I have been made thankful, 
 however, in the remembrance and appropriation of a few 
 supplicatory expressions of the prophet Jeremiah, " Ileal 
 me, O Lord, and I shall be healed ; save me, and I shall 
 be saved ; for thou art my praise," (xvii. 14.) 
 
 No. 188. To Sarah Squire. 
 
 1831, 11 mo. 23. — Although I too have known times 
 when I should have been glad to be prepared and released ; 
 or in other words that the important and arduous work of 
 the soul's salvation might be cut short in righteousness and 
 mercy ; yet I have found, as I doubt not but that thou 
 
 p2 
 
31G 
 
 hast also done, that both the time and manner for effecting 
 tliis must be left in other and better hands than my own ; 
 and that I must neither with Joshua continue to lie 
 prostrate on the ground, nor with Elijah remain hid in a 
 cave ; but rather seek for a renewal of patience and 
 ability to know and to do the Lord's will, either in act or 
 sufterance, adopting the apostle's language, " Seeing we 
 have this ministry, as we have received mercy, we faint 
 not." 
 
 No. 189. To J. J. GuKNEY, 
 
 1832, 4 mo. 20. — I sometimes think, (or ought I to say 
 imagine?) that such redeemed spirits as, after traversing 
 this world's wilderness, and crossing the deep waters of 
 Jordan are mercifully admitted into the heavenly Canaan, 
 a land flowing with milk and honey ; that these happy 
 souls may there be classified either as stars according to 
 their magnitude and glory, as vessels by their various ca- 
 pacities for receiving and containing the ineffable felicity 
 of which all shall be full, or which is an idea distinct from 
 either of these as minds jiosscssing different temperaments, 
 according to their affinities and attractions. In either of 
 the two former cases I can easily believe my own situation 
 must be a very low, yet possibly not a less thankful one 
 than that of the rapt seraph, who with brighter effulgence, 
 not more ardent love, adores and burns in nearer approach 
 to the throne of God and of the Lamb : but should my last 
 supposition, congeniality, prove to be the best, then comes 
 the pleasing dream, that, all other destinations apart, even 
 we may rejoice and sing together. Thou wilt perceive as 
 I do, that this is all speculation, — I think there is no heresy 
 
317 
 
 in it, and I lioi^e tliat between us it may be harmless, and 
 having heaven for its subject, cheering ; for, however un- 
 worthy we may be, 'tis sweet to think of heaven. 
 
 . . . That we want power as well as precept, may 
 perhaps be considered an axiom in Christian divinity. I 
 have of late been impressed with the insufficiency of 
 precept, however imparted, without accompanying ability 
 to reduce it to practice, convinced as I am that not all I 
 have heard from my fellow mortals, or read in the best of 
 books, would enable me to support the character of a 
 practical Christian, without something also of that sub- 
 stance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen ; 
 which the apostle appears to consider, not only as the 
 basis, but the essence of a faith superior to that of the 
 understanding, in connexion and co-operation with which, 
 I think, we can only receive power to become the sons of 
 God. I cannot doubt, my dear friend, but that whilst 
 thou art diligently and earnestly engaged in unfolding the 
 doctrines of Christianity, and illustrating the principles of 
 our peculiar profession of it, thou often findest it necessary 
 to recommend the attention of thy hearers and readers to 
 the root of both, Christ within the hope of glory, without 
 whom by his good Spirit in the heart, neither can doctrine 
 be rightly received and understood, nor prijiciple brought 
 as it ought to be, into daily life and conversation. 
 
 " He that believeth on the Son of God hath the wit- 
 ness in himself" said an apostle, and this witness I think 
 is an evidence of invisible things, something that cannot 
 be shaken, of universal application and benefit, on which 
 the soul may safely rest. Were it not for recurrence to, 
 and a reliance upon this uspeakable gift, I am free to con- 
 fess that there are moments in which almost everything 
 
318 
 
 else seems inadequate to my support — seasons wherein 
 both the mystery of godliness and the mystery of iniquity, 
 or in other words, the inscrutable nature of the Divine 
 economy in the government of this lower world, with 
 that greatest of all paradoxes, the conduct of misguided 
 and sinful man, would greatly perplex and endanger 
 me. 
 
 As it is, sustained, I trust, by a portion of the faith 
 alluded to, I struggle on, resolving what is strange and 
 embarrassing in human conduct, into the trials and temp- 
 tations attendant on a fallible and corrupt yet free agent 
 in a state of probation, believing literally and in sim- 
 plicity, such portions of the sacred records as may be 
 opened to my understanding, and receiving with humble 
 reverence what may be secret and unrevealed in holy writ, 
 on the testimony and faithfulness of its divine Author, of 
 whose existence, supremacy, and wisdom, I have been 
 assured, not merely or principally by hearing or reading, 
 but by the too generally despised mediums — or rather 
 sources — feeling and experience ; mediums which many 
 even among the pious and learned, are too much afraid of 
 accrediting, lest they should become, or be accounted, en- 
 thusiasts, fanatics, &c. ; though by this dereliction from 
 that essential faith of which we have spoken, and which is 
 too obvious in some of their writings, they appear to me to 
 fall short of the truth, and to deprive themselves and 
 others of much good. 
 
 2lsi. — I went a few weeks since to Runcton, to visit 
 our late mutually esteemed friend A. M. G., when she was 
 near the close of her life. How sweetly on this occasion, 
 I remembered Addison, " See in what peace a Christian 
 can die ! " and Young, 
 
319 
 
 " The chamber where the good man meets his fate, 
 Is privileged beyond the common walk of virtuous life, 
 Quite on the verge of heaven." 
 
 I believe feelings correspondent with these animating 
 expressions were at times very prevalent, during the rather 
 lingering and painful illness of our worthy friend. I cannot 
 help feeling how my valued cotemporaries, one by one, 
 glide from my view, whilst I am at present left in the 
 enjoyment of a degree of health and strength, which, — 
 my age and what often passes within considered, — almost 
 surprises me. So true it is, that body sometimes supports 
 mind, and vice versa : this is encouraging, when we see 
 how both often languish and sink together. 
 
 No. 190. To JoSIAH FORSTER. 
 
 1832, 5 mo. 4. — Connected with the subject of death, I 
 may tell thee, that one evening lately I went, as I am oc- 
 casionally wont to do, to visit the little cemetery in which, 
 for many generations, the remains of my forefathers have 
 been laid ; where also rest those of my parents, my wife, 
 and three of my children, and where probably, ere long^ 
 my own dust shall mingle with theirs. On returning 
 homewards at an hour when the cottascrs were in their 
 houses, the birds and the beasts reposing, and the weather 
 perfectly calm, I was struck by the surrounding scene, 
 which seemed as it were to place me alone in the world. 
 Thus circumstanced, my mind was almost unconsciously 
 raised — for it seems as if we could not help localizing even 
 invisible things — towards that home beyond the skies, to 
 which from infancy to age, through all life's vicissitudes, it 
 
320 
 
 lias been ltd at times to a.s])irc, sometimes with hope, often 
 with fear and discouragement. 
 
 Perhaps partly from temperament, partly from rural 
 habits, and partly from age, which loves and wants quiet- 
 ness, or it may be, from their united influence, — but I can 
 scarcely tell thee, how thankful I sometimes feel for the 
 retirement of my home ; that lodge in the wilderness which 
 thou hast seen. Here I can not only see a coach pass in 
 the distance, without hearing the noise of its wheels, but 
 which I value much more, here I can sigh in secret, and 
 only emerge from my obscurity, when, as it may be well 
 they sometimes do, circumstances draw me reluctantly 
 out of it. And yet I hope I am neither an ascetic nor a 
 misanthrope ; I am sure I would not affect these cha- 
 racters. 
 
 No. 191. To J. J. GuRNEY. 
 
 1832, 7 '>no. 7- — IMuch as I find in myself to bewail, I 
 think these solicitudes may not be altogether on my own 
 account. For my children, my friends, and the church, 
 especially that section of it to which I am by birth and 
 judgment attached, I feel much ; not too much, yet at 
 times enough to make me so weary — perhaps I ought 
 rather to say so impatient of warfare — as to produce a sigh 
 for its close. This I know is poor and selfish, and can 
 only find its apology in the merits and mercies of that 
 great High Priest, who is touched with a feeling of our 
 infirmities, having been tempted as we are, but, and here 
 lies a grand distinction, without sin. 
 
 And yet whilst the feeling of our being poor sinful crea- 
 tures, as we confessedly are, gives us a more exalted view 
 
321 
 
 of tlie inherent strength, and immaculate purity of our 
 adorable Redeemer, it should, I have thouglit, increase the 
 tenderness of our sympathy, and the fervency of our 
 prayers one for another, as partakers in the same fall, and 
 heirs of the same salvation. Not then so much against 
 the sinner, as sin, should our antipathies be, and our spi- 
 ritual weapons be directed. Perhaps it is only in the 
 school of deep probation, that we could sufficiently learn 
 the lesson of being kind one to another, tender-hearted, 
 forgiving one another, even as we hope God for Christ's 
 sake will forgive us. 
 
 It is indeed one of the most humiliating things ima- 
 ginable, to unrol the pages of our experience, which yield 
 little but cause for mourning, and lamentation, and woe ; 
 yet what an interesting sense of human condition and cir- 
 cumstance does the perusal leave behind it, enabling us in 
 true self-abasement, and yet without despair, to adopt the 
 lanauage, " who is weak, and I am not weak?" 
 
 Thy account of dear S. G.'s visit and services amongst 
 you was very acceptable intelligence to me ; his ministry, 
 conversation, and example having, I think, each of the 
 times of his being in England, been blessed to me. When 
 he was at Gcdney last autumn he dwelt at considerable 
 length, in our little meeting, on the Apostle Paul's comfort 
 in trouble, as set forth in 2 Cor. 1 ; in which the Almighty 
 is described, as the past, present, and future helper of his 
 children and servants, — as lie (said S. G., with nmch cm- 
 pliasis) who hath delivered and who we trust will yet de- 
 liver us. I was comforted and strengthened by the man- 
 ner in which he was enabled to treat a subject, which I 
 believe at the time was very interesting to us both. 
 
 Cannot you peep at us by the way towards Lancashire ? 
 
 P 5 
 
322 
 
 Gedney, like other grazing districts, often appears rather 
 dreary to strangers in winter, but is now about in its 
 prime. A scene thou knowest may be lovely though the 
 heart of him that views it be faint ; still the note of the 
 blackbird, and the fragrance of the woodbine may help 
 to keep him from fainting. In the two Ir.tter charms of 
 nature, I think we just now excel. 
 
 No. 192. To Samuel Rorxn. 
 
 1832, 5 mo. 7- — I should be sorry to administer an 
 undue degree of discouragement. Although ofttimes per- 
 plexed, I am not in despair ; and yet, if I am not greatly 
 mistaken, wc as a Society do much want arousing from 
 our earthly slumbers to a deeper and more practical sense 
 of the importance of religion ; and in the nervous language 
 of Young, to be taught more earnestly " to weigh the 
 moment of eternal things." I am not without some hope 
 that, not only passing events but future prospects may 
 powerfully tend to produce this effect in many minds. 
 Few things appear more calculated to do this, than the 
 pestilence which walketh in darkness, or the destruction 
 that wasteth at noon-day, in connexion with the dark and 
 gloomy aspect of our political horizon. 
 
 It was affecting to me to observe by thy lines, that, in 
 addition to the recent removal of thy valuable aunt Su- 
 sannah Clark, several others of your elderly women friends 
 whom I have long known and greatly esteemed, seem to 
 be fast declining. Still let us remember according to the 
 expressions of a sweet hjTun, that, though a Paul has run 
 his race, or an ApoUos dies, Israel is not left without 
 resource, &c. On one occasion, I remember, when casting 
 
323 
 
 a mournful look over a meeting, which, having been strip- 
 ped of its leading members, seemed to be left almost deso- 
 late, I was suddenly checked, almost reproved, for my 
 despondency by the consideration, that, although other 
 heads were removed, the Everlasting Head of the church 
 remaineth, and that in Him is all-suf5ciency. 
 
 As a judge of rural affairs and an admirer of the out- 
 ward creation, thou canst scarcely fail to observe with sen- 
 sations of gratitude, the bounty of a gracious Providence, 
 in sending the present genial weather, and with it the 
 prospect of food and gladness, to dependent and unworthy 
 man, as well as to the inferior and unconscious tribes of 
 animal existence, clothing also the vegetable kingdom in 
 its new and annual robes of beauty. 
 
 How numerous and diversified are the reproduced adorn- 
 ments of spring, where sin or sorrow, or tlie lust of wealth 
 does not cause them to be passed unheeded ! Perhaps few 
 enjoy them with a more lively and innocent delight than 
 children]: this is strikingly the case witli niy son John's 
 little ones, five in number, from about two to eight years 
 old. Being at present favoured with health, they seem 
 quite enraptured by the sights and sounds, which on every 
 hand surround them, and their grandsire is pleased to see 
 them so happy. Next to the praises of the " Great First 
 Cause," perhaps there is no subject to which verse is more 
 adapted, or on which it is better employed, than in unfold- 
 ing the charms and the splendours of his magnificent 
 works, as these lie scattered everywhere both in earth, in 
 air, and sea, minute and beautiful, or rude and grand. 
 Accordingly some of our best poets with several others, 
 have contributed their mites in humbler strains to that 
 general harmony which seems to bid creation, through all 
 
324 
 
 its realms, rejoice in the goodness, the greatness , the 
 wisdom, and the majesty of its Author. 
 
 Xo. 193. To JOSIAH FORSTER. 
 
 1832, 6 mo. 28. —Were it not for a little of the Chris- 
 tian's faith and hope, what should I, — what should any of 
 us sometimes do ? As it is, though most unworthy, I 
 sometimes endeavour to clino; to these : eommiseratinfr, to 
 a degree which I cannot fully express, tliose who unhappily 
 want, because they seek not, or reject this support. 
 Whither, ah ! whither shall the confirmed unbeliever fly 
 in the day when he is called to an account ? Tliis is a 
 query that frequently and deeply alfects me in contem- 
 plating the refined infidelity, the false, the bewildering philo- 
 sophy of the present day, which so far as I can understand 
 it, denies Christ in the most essential and important part 
 of his character, even his divinity. Inseparable from such 
 a denial as this, is there not reason to fear, may be the 
 awful and positive declaration of the Saviour himself? 
 " Whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also 
 deny befoi'e my Father, which is heaven." 
 
 20tk. — I am fond of children, and sometimes meet with 
 a return. Whilst I was writing last evening, my little 
 grand daughters, (of whom I have two,) brought one a 
 rose and the other a fine strawbeny, and placed them on 
 either side of me. How sweet I felt was this unbought and 
 unsolicited love of infant innocence ! Surely, I have 
 thought if there yet remains a trace of Paradise in human 
 nature, or in this lower world, it is to be found here ! 
 
325 
 
 No. 194. To JoNATiiAX Backhouse. 
 
 1832, 7 'mo. 17- — I hope that thou wilt not be greatly- 
 discouraged by the low views I am sometimes led to take 
 of my own state. Such has been my experience, and such 
 the texture of my mind, that I apprehend these views 
 may be safest for me. And I am the more induced to 
 think so, because I am seldom if ever more peaceful, than 
 when with simplicity, not apathy and poverty, yet above 
 despair, I can approach the footstool of all that is wise, 
 powerful, and good ; a situation, perhaps, somewhat com- 
 parable to Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus. Whenever I 
 can attain this state of mind, I rejoice, though it may be 
 with trembling ; for, tlaough the world, even the religious 
 world, docs not seem in general to comprehend it, I have 
 long and decidedly been of the sentiment, that there is a 
 silence which is not the silence of death ; and a stillness 
 that is not the stillness of the. grave ; yet do not mistake 
 me, 1 am no enemy to words fitly spoken, either in con- 
 versation or otherwise. 
 
 No. 195. To Joseph Foster. 
 
 1832, 7 mo. 31. — Here I would pause to observe, how 
 entirely at this eleventh hour of my life, I feel dependent 
 upon the atoning sacrifice of a Redeemer, or in other words, 
 upon the mercy of God in and through Christ Jesus for 
 the forgiveness of all my sins, both of omission and com- 
 mission. For after all we have done, or can do, in the 
 way of our duty, we are still but unprofitable servants ; 
 and shall at last have need of tlie intercession of that 
 Great High Priest, who, touched with a feeling of our 
 
326 
 
 infirmities can availingly plead for us — to Him then let us 
 flee ; — to Him let us cleave. 
 
 Thou wilt, J think, be ready to conclude with me that 
 the present are very eventful and unsettled times, not only 
 in the political, but in what is called the religious world ; to 
 say nothing of the awful pestilence, Q-holcra] which seems 
 to be entirely providential. In such a season of complicated 
 trials, may we, my dear friend, be preserved in tranquillity 
 and patience, free from the spirit of contention and com- 
 motion, and, as much as in us lies, at peace with all men. 
 I seldom am more comfortable than when I feel the 
 greatest charity for others, and the least indulgence for 
 myself ; desiring that whatever I may be denominated on 
 earth, I may at last be numbered with the general assem- 
 bly and church of the first-born, whose names are written 
 in heaven. And this church, I rejoice in being able with 
 increasing faith and hope to believe, is composed of every 
 nation, kindred, tongue, and people : — yea, of every indi- 
 vidual, who feareth God and worketh righteousness. 
 
 Not that I would be understood as thinking that even 
 the outward religious profession any of us may make is a 
 matter of indifference. On this important subject, let 
 every one seriously consider, and be fully persuaded in his 
 own mind. There are also degrees in all things ; so it 
 may be, even as to some of the external circumstances of 
 religion, in reference to which, my own experience (if I 
 may be allowed to mention it) has been this, — that after 
 trying in my earlier days to find an easier way than that 
 in which I had been educated, enduring much disappoint- 
 ment and sorrow in not succeeding ; and some proof since, 
 as I trust I may truly say, of its safety and excellence 
 when submitted to ; I am at length brought to the un- 
 
327 
 
 avoidaLle conclusion, that, -where the principles of our 
 society are acted upon, and lived up to, they will invaria- 
 bly produce a character the nearest in its approach to the 
 precepts and the example of the divine Author of the 
 Christian religion. 
 
 At our age, for I also am growing old, it is a very 
 great privilege to have the use of our limbs, so as to be 
 able to do common things for ourselves ; and it is perhaps 
 a still higher privilege to retain the power of exercising 
 our intellectual faculties, whereby we discern good from 
 evil, and are conscious not only of our own joys and griefs, 
 but alive also to those of others, so that we can on suitable 
 occasions rejoice with those who do rejoice, and weep with 
 those who weep. 
 
 ^'0. 196. To J. J. AND M. GURNEY. 
 
 1832, 10 mo. 1. — In a mental visit to you this morning, 
 I have, though very unworthy, been permitted a little to 
 emerge from the low estate wherein it is my frequent lot 
 to dwell, into a sweet feeling of sympathy and affection 
 towards you. This feeling I cannot better describe than 
 
 by expressions, which in a letter to me, applied to 
 
 the spiritual relation, that, previously to his death, had 
 subsisted between herself and her late beloved and lio- 
 noured father, and which she very appropriately denomi- 
 nated, " a unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace, that no 
 language can fully set forth." And yet, my dear friends, 
 I have had renewedly to believe this morning, in connexion 
 with my remembrance of you, that, though words may 
 not clearly define it, the thing itself is a substantial reality, 
 and under such a persuasion, I can humbly, (I hope,) 
 
328 
 
 rejoice and invite you, if you are able, to rejoice with 
 me. How precious is the love over which time and 
 absence have no power ; and which even the intervention 
 of oceans and continents cannot sever. Allowable plea- 
 sure is not so frequent a visiter to my poor heart, as to be 
 too hastily dismissed when she does really deign me a 
 call. And though I say this cheerfully, I do not say it 
 lightly ; but I trust in a degree of reverent thankfulness 
 to the Author of all our mercies, who, in the midst of this 
 tumultuous and troubled scene, grants even to the lowest 
 of his children and family their seasons of rejoicing. " In 
 the world," said our adorable Redeemer, " ye shall have 
 tribulation : but be of good cheer ; I have overcome the 
 world." 
 
 No. 197. To JOSIAH FOBSTER. 
 
 1832, 10 mo. 13. — As to the motions of my mind, 
 though these may not be very few, nor some of them in 
 my own apprehension of the smoothest description, yet 
 they are for the most part of too personal a kind to 
 incline me to trouble thee with their detail. Rather, as 
 more befitting myself and more clieering to thee, let me 
 with gratitude to the Author of all our mercies, however 
 derived, a truth of which I hope in the midst of all my 
 infirmities, I become increasingly sensible ; let me de- 
 voutly return thanks to my heavenly Father for the 
 continuance of his long-suflTering mercy, and for the glimpse 
 of hope sometimes vouchsafed, that, through the mediation 
 and intercession of his beloved Son, my sins may ulti- 
 mately be forgiven me, and I may find rest to my very 
 unworthy soul. 
 
329 
 
 No. 198. To Sarah Squire. 
 
 1832, 10 mo. 25. — As it has for a considerable time 
 past been a season of peculiar trial to me, and not Hiving 
 to write to thee coniplainingly, I have not written at all. 
 This I assure thee has neither been owing to forgetfulness, 
 nor the decline of an interest in thy welfare, or that of thy 
 family. But there are, as I believe, my dear friend, thou 
 very well knowest, times and circumstances, which make 
 us as it were dumb with silence ; and wherein we arc 
 willing even to put our mouths in the dust, if so be there 
 may be hope. With humiliation and thankfulness, I may 
 to thee acknowledge that hope has not forsaken me. No, 
 after having passed through much vicissitude, and many 
 tribulations, a hope in the mercy of God in Christ Jesus, 
 is the anchor and stay of my soul ; and, I cannot doubt, 
 of thine also. 
 
 No. 199. To Jonathan Backhouse. 
 
 1832, 10 mo. 26. — It would be difficult for me to ex- 
 press how much I feel interested in thy and thy wife's 
 welfare ; not so much for the health and safety of your 
 persons, though this is important, as that you may be pre- 
 served from every kind of spiritual harm : the times on 
 both sides the water seem to me unsettled ; and we have 
 an unwearied adversary ready to turn every variety of cir- 
 cumstance to our disadvantage. In heights, he would 
 exalt us above measure ; in depths, depress us below hope, 
 and in difficulties, so obscure and bewilder our minds, as 
 to involve us in inextricable labyrinths. But thanks be to 
 
330 
 
 God, he is not invincible. By watchfulness and prayer 
 he may be overcome ; and though I thus write, I have a 
 strong consolatory hope, that, over all your conflicts and 
 trials, you will ultimately obtain the victory through our 
 Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 Perhaps there are few lessons in the Christian school, 
 that we are more unwilling, and therefore longer in prac- 
 tically learning, than this, that " to the Lord our God, 
 belong mercies and forgiveness, but to us shame and 
 confusion of face." Indeed, no testimony, — nothing short 
 of experience, could make us believe the full extent of this 
 truth, which is so humiliating, that we are ready even to 
 distrust the evidence of our own slowly and dearly pur- 
 chased knowledge. It seems to be the last stronghold 
 which pride, spiritual pride, especially from necessity not 
 choice, is compelled to resign. But wlien once fully re- 
 signed, and the surrender duly ratified by a meek and 
 lowly walk before the Lord, oh then, what joy and peace 
 in believing ! then we find no difficulty in humbling our- 
 selves on every occasion that calls for the exercise of hu- 
 mility. We can now pathetically, and in sympathy 
 exclaim, in the language of poor Job : " I have heard of 
 Thee by the hearing of the ear ; but now mine eye seeth 
 Thee, wherefore I abhor myself and repent in dust and 
 ashes." We sensibly feel that it is through the Lord's 
 tender mercies, we have not long ago been consumed ; 
 yet great and manifold as may have been our transgres- 
 sions, we can even glory in our infirmities, and rejoice in 
 
 reconciled Father, receiving as our just portion the 
 profoundly abasing language of Ezekiel, " And I will es- 
 tablish my covenant with thee, and thou shalt know that 
 T am the Lord : that thou mayst remember and be con- 
 
331 
 
 founded, and never open thy mouth any more, because 
 of tliy shame, when I am pacified towards thee, for all 
 that thou hast done, saith the Lord God." (xvi. 62, 63.) 
 
 Thus, my dear friends, I exhibit to you a leaf out of 
 the book of experience ; yet appalling as the picture may 
 seem, I am not dismayed at it, but rather encouraged by 
 finding that the frequent contemplation of it disposes me 
 to love the Lord more, and myself less, than perhaps any 
 other object or subject were capable of effecting. 
 
 No. 200. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1832, 11 mo. 14. — Attached as I think I sincerely am 
 to the principles of our religious Society, as those of pure 
 and unsophisticated Christianity, (believing as I do that 
 in every Christian denomination there are many estimable 
 characters, and I rejoice when I can discover them ;) I am 
 grieved whenever, and in whatever instance, I behold an 
 appearance of dereliction from them ; so that on taking a 
 retrospect of the declension, or shall I say desolation, — that 
 living long has given me the sad opportunity of witnessing 
 in individual character, in families, and in meetings, — I 
 cannot always refrain from mourning. 
 
 In these mental reviews most commonly taken in hours, 
 which, though set apart for repose are sleepless, I am some- 
 times reminded, (perhaps in a degree of sympathy,) of a 
 good man of old who perambulated Jerusalem by night ; — 
 not forgetting that there is a striking difference between 
 Nehemiah and myself, whilst he had power to rebuild, 
 repair, &c. I can only suffer and sigh, beseeching the 
 Most High, who was his and ancient Israel's helper, that 
 He would be pleased to raise up and qualify amongst us 
 
332 
 
 those who might repair our breaches, not so much in the 
 walls of our discipline or morality ; as either by the imme- 
 diate and powerful visitations of his own Holy Spirit, or 
 by a peculiar blessing on the labours of his servants, to 
 rebuild that spiritual house, which many of our forefathers 
 inhabited with delight, and wherein we profess to dwell. 
 For it seems to me to be almost beyond a probability, 
 that, imless the Lord arise for our help, and unless greater 
 obedience is yielded to his requirements, we shall still fur- 
 ther decline ; so true is the two-fold position, that, as on 
 one hand unless the Lord build the city, they labour in 
 vain that build it, so on the other, without faith and its 
 corresponding fruits It is impossible to please God. It is a 
 relief to me to have discovered a friend to whom, for the 
 first, and perhaps the last time in my life, I can open my 
 mind so fully on this delicate yet weighty subject : — 
 hoping that, grave as it is, it need not greatly discourage 
 us from pursuing each, according to his gift and measure, 
 the path of duty respectively assigned us, — an obligation 
 that would remain precisely the same, had we no other 
 companions ; and this obligation may be described in few 
 words, — the simple endeavour to know the will of God, 
 and do it ; for exactly thus runs the tenor of my com- 
 mission, and I cannot doubt but of thine also. Let us then 
 desire above all thiuo's first a knowledge of the Divine 
 will, and next an ability to perform it ; thus shall we 
 become the obedient, and finally the happy children of the 
 Lord! 
 
 I was quite obliged by thy penny enclosure.* There is 
 
 * Address to the Mechanics of Manchester, by J. J. Gurney. 
 Price \d. 
 
333 
 
 one section of it, which, though it may please a Man- 
 chester weaver, I am not, with tlie rural habits and notions 
 of a Gedney fanner, quite prepared to go the full length 
 of, I mean the commendation of machinery, which, to 
 the extent and in the way in which I suppose it is prin- 
 cipally employed, must I think, in a majority of cases, be 
 liable to strong objection. A factory life, for instance, 
 appears to me to be a very unnatural and unhealthy one, 
 and without the strict religious oversight of the principal 
 and subordinate managers, is almost sure to become de- 
 based and immoral. But is such a case, as I have sup- 
 posed, to be found, or even to be expected, in the genera- 
 lity of cases ? I fear not, espeoially where the wealth of 
 an individual, or the aggrandizement of a family, forms 
 tlie main spring and leading feature of the whole concern ; 
 and where muscles, sinews, and nerves, from those of the 
 master to his lowest dependent — where the wood, stone, 
 brass, and iron of the building and its furniture, (nor must 
 we omit the lead, whether animal or metallic,) where each 
 of these articles makes but part and parcel, and all of 
 tliem combined, form one mighty apparatus for getting 
 monev. Such an engine, however splendid or powerful, I 
 neither admire nor approve. 
 
 Amidst the much that pleases me in this address, there 
 is one sentiment which I can most fully and cordially re- 
 ceive ; it is that which supposes our humility to bear a 
 considerable proportion to, if not to be dependent on, the 
 depth of our knowledge, whether this knowledge be de- 
 rived from self-examination, philosophical research, reli- 
 gious inquiry, or their united influence : these may not be 
 thy exact words, but I think they embrace thy opinion, in 
 support of which tliou hast very appropriately introduced 
 
334 
 
 the name of one, who, on account of his eminence both in 
 science and lowliness of mind, has been justly and honour- 
 ably denominated the child-like sage. As the true Chris- 
 tian would not desire a higher title, so perhaps he can 
 scarcely propose to himself a brighter example, than that 
 of the individual in question, — the pious philosopher, Isaac 
 Newton. 
 
 No. 201. To JOSIAH FORSTER. 
 
 1832, 12 TWO. 28. — Having alluded rather indirectly to 
 the world and its movements, I would tell thee what a 
 privilege I have found it,' to be sheltered at Gedney, during 
 the electioneering tumults that have lately so much agi- 
 tated many cities and towns. Here, though under thatch, 
 I have slept securely, and when I awoke, instead of human 
 riot, and a mob assailing my dwelling, I have beheld brute 
 innocence, gentle sheep, and lively yet harmless birds, 
 passing in quiet review before me ; whilst the greenness of 
 the grass, ivy, and other perennials, which are rather 
 plentiful here, are more refreshing to my siglit, and more 
 congenial to the general tone of my mind, than the fervid 
 heat and all the glowing beauty of departed summer. But 
 this thou wilt recollect is the voice of age ; such also may 
 seem the further observation, that the animals to which I 
 have alluded appear to me, when at rest and happy, to be 
 emblematic of the peace, and the evergreens of the perpe- 
 tuity of that state into which, through the mediatorial plan 
 of a gracious Creator, and the merits of an appointed 
 Saviour, I sometimes faintly hope, ere very long to enter ; 
 I say faintly, because humility becomes us ; and because 
 however much any of us may be favoured with outward 
 
335 
 
 comforts and friendsliips, we shall whilst passing through 
 this state of probation all have our changes, and amongst 
 them our low seasons. Indeed, it must be so, if the saying 
 be true, " He has no hope who never had a fear ;" or if 
 we attend to the solemn injunction of the apostle, " To 
 work out our own salvation with fear and trembling." 
 
 No. 202. To J. J. GuRNEY. 
 
 1833, 1 mo. 24. — Our philosophical lecturer, whilst 
 dealing with second causes, not imfrequently in a familiar 
 and agreeable way, turns the attention of his audience to 
 " the great First Cause least imderstood ; " thus making 
 science the handmaid of religion. This appears to me as 
 it should be, because at one stroke it exalts the Creator 
 and humbles the creature, producing such feelings and 
 sentiments as these. Lord, what is man ! How wonderful 
 are thy works, in wisdom hast thou made them all ! How 
 is it that amidst so many powerful agencies in constant 
 operation, both within us and around us, we exist in a 
 state of life, health, and comfort ! Only by thy nice ad- 
 justment and adaptation, as to a particle or an hair's 
 breadth, of all these astonishing phenomena. Seen as we 
 now behold it, through a glass darkly, here seems to be an 
 exhaustless theme of adoration and praise : how much 
 more when in the regions of light and of glory, the veil 
 shall be taken away ! 
 
 No. 203. To J. J. GuRNEY. 
 
 1833, 2 mo. 20. — My general health for a man of se- 
 venty-three, I suppose I ought to consider quite at an 
 
336 
 
 average, and so far as I know, to use a law phrase, I am of 
 " sound disposing mind ^nd memory^" What then is the 
 roattcr ? thou mayst he ready to ask. Indeed it is a 
 question I have put chiscly to myself, and one part of the 
 ansvper seems to he, that a time has arrived in Avhich tlie 
 grasshopper is hecome a burthen, things which at an ear- 
 lier day would have seemed comparatively light, now press 
 more heavily ; and the mighty movements of the world's 
 great Babel, or in plainer language, the divided conflict 
 between good and evil, that so strongly marks the era in 
 which we live, prevailing everywhere and pervading almost 
 everything, is too much for my declining powers, and in- 
 clines, nearly compels me, to seek in silence and retire- 
 ment, at least a temporary repose. Still I endeavour to 
 keep my eyes and ears open to any intimation of duty, 
 should such be vouchsafed me ; being, I hope, sincerely 
 desirous of realizing a state spoken of in Scripture, " I 
 sleep, but my heart waketh." 
 
 I sometimes think these stirring; sicns of the times may 
 somewhat resemble a troublerl ocean " rocking itself to 
 rest," that they may prove like the harbingers of that 
 brio-hter day, in which, without the notion of a Millennium, 
 many hitherto unfulfilled prophecies shall receive a more 
 full completion, and amongst them one which I think 
 neither the least beautiful nor glorious. (See Isaiah xi, 
 6 — 9.) The meridian of such a day I cannot expect to 
 see ; but it is something to behold its dawn, though it be 
 but as the first faint streak of morning light in the eastern 
 horizon. 
 
 By a letter from a friend in the north, I have lately 
 received very satisfactory infonnation of J. and H. B. and 
 of J. B. and his companion, also of D. W. and of the 
 
337 
 
 objects of his concern, and from another quarter of S. G. 
 and W. A. In the proceedings of these missionaries, 
 whom we may perhaps with some propriety call our own, 
 I feel deeply interested : at the same time wishing well 
 to all of every religious name, who, from proper motives 
 and qualifications shall engage in services so arduous and 
 important ; yet I believe it is better for us as a Society to 
 be cautious of much mixing on this weighty subject. 
 
 No. 204. To JoSIAH FoRSTER. 
 
 1833, 5 mo. 23. — Although I have thought myself 
 rather too weakly to accompany my children to the 
 Yearly Meeting, yet I do not forget my dear friends who 
 are now assembled from distant parts, and I hope in con- 
 siderable numbers for its attendance. The contrast of 
 numbers, and coincidence in time, between the men's and 
 women's first sittings yesterday at Devonshire House and 
 the little week-day meeting which about the same hour 
 I attended at Gedney, sensibly impressed witliout greatly 
 discouraging me ; and whilst I hope I desired, however 
 feebly, my own preservation, I was not unconcerned for 
 such of my absent brethren and sisters, on whom the 
 weighty business of our annual solemnity must fall. 
 
 Being permitted to enjoy a degree of quietness in staying 
 at home, which I hope is not the apathy of a false rest, I 
 would not admit gloomy forebodings as to the Yearly 
 Meeting ; yet without either officiousness or an over soli- 
 citude, I may perhaps express to tliee a desire that attends 
 me, that concerned Friends may watch with jealous care 
 two great turning points, or leading principles of our 
 Society, if not of Christianity itself; namely, the univer- 
 
338 
 
 sality of Divine grace, and as I think was properly de- 
 signated in a general epistle a few years since, though it 
 gave offence to some, the perceptible influence of this 
 grace upon the mind of man. Were I to give up either 
 of these points, I should resemble a vessel at sea without 
 sail or rudder, the sport of winds and waves, and be con- 
 sequently in great danger of making shipwreck of faith. 
 
 There is also another point on which the watchmen 
 and watchwomen on our walls may do well, both in 
 meetings and out of them, to keep a quiet and steady 
 eye. I mean the character of our adorable Redeemer in 
 all his offices and attributes. Respecting which, if I may 
 be allowed again to introduce myself, it will be to make 
 the full and free acknowledgment, that, were it not for an 
 assurance of the sufficiency of his atonement for sina 
 past ; of his mediation and advocacy for my every day 
 faults, and finally of his love and mercy as a compas- 
 sionate High Priest, touched with a feeling of my infir- 
 mities ; and in this capacity at the great day of account, 
 introducing my disembodied soul into the presence of that 
 awful Majesty and ineffiible Glory which otherwise I dare 
 not approach, and could not behold : I say — were it not 
 for hopes and expectations like these, I should not only be 
 of all men, but of all animal existences, the most miserable. 
 I might then envy the passing brute, and like one we read 
 of, when congratulated on his worldly felicity, my heart 
 would respond by a groan unutterable to his agonizing 
 thought, " 0 that I were that dog ! " 
 
 Well, here I stand, sometimes trembling stand, as on 
 the brink of eternity ; and whatever worldly wisdom 
 might think of it, this is the result of my experience. O 
 that it may never cost another what through unbelief and 
 
339 
 
 disobedience it has cost me to attain it ! But I believe it 
 is now as it was formerly declared to be, because of unbe- 
 lief that we do not so mer — and if unbelief is persisted in 
 — 6mr enter into rest. 
 
 If we did but leave our times on all subjects more 
 quietly than we sometimes do in the Lord's hand, we 
 should feel the better for it ourselves, and probably be less 
 displeasing to Him. I am fully convinced of this, but 
 often find myself failing in practice. A day however is 
 approaching wherein this and all my other infirmities 
 shall, I reverently hope, be covered with a mantle, pur- 
 chased for me by the precious blood of the immaculate 
 Lamb. 
 
 No. 205. To J. J. GoRNEY. 
 
 1833, 9 ino. 25. — How full of valuable interest did 
 the account of thy dear mother R. F.'s illness, death, 
 and burial, and those of thy interviews with George 
 Withy and William Wilberforce, make thy last commu- 
 nication ! 
 
 There seems to have been a striking coincidence in the 
 minds of these pious individuals, on a very important part 
 of Christian experience ; that they themselves were nothing, 
 but that Christ was everything, their stay, their stafi^, and 
 their only hope of salvation. 1 believe it not unfrequently 
 happens that the most favoured religious characters pre- 
 vious to their putting oft" mortality, are thus unrobed of 
 all that formerly distinguished them from their brethren ; 
 and with no other covering, than the simple vest of hu- 
 mility, which may long have been as sackcloth underneath, 
 wait the coming of the Lord to clothe them Avith the 
 
 Q 2 
 
340 
 
 wedding garment, and thus render them admissible inta 
 his marriage-chamber. From this blessed and happy 
 mansion that thy poor friend may not be finally excluded, 
 has both in sickness and in health, in his best and in his 
 worst days, for many and many a year, been one of his 
 most fervent, though most secret prayers, scarcely known 
 indeed but to Him who can read the heart. 
 
 My late dear friend Rachel Fowler's present of tlie 
 memoir of her precious companion was duly received, and 
 having been read both privately and to our little circle, 
 is much valued both for the sake of the giver and the 
 gift. Without going further into particulars, it may 
 afford some notion of my own impressions, to say that I 
 do not recollect reading a piece of biography that seemed 
 a more exact counterpart of its original ; and of this ori- 
 ginal I never knew a man who appeared to me to sustain 
 the character of a Christian with greater propriety and 
 effect. As a light in the world, his " rays diffusive," I 
 must assuredly believe, tended to clieer, encourage, and 
 direct many of his fellow-pilgrima in their journey through 
 the obscure and difficult paths of this checkered, bewilder- 
 ing, and probationary scene. I fcannot doubt but that he 
 is now receiving the end of his faith, as a star in its ap- 
 pointed place, in the everlasting kingdom of his God and 
 Saviour. 
 
 [^Alluding to some peculiar trials, at the close of his let- 
 ter our beloved friend says,] " I am endeavouring to seek 
 refuge, where in fonner troubles 1 have sometimes found 
 it, by an acquiescence in the permitted, no less than in 
 the commanded, appointments of an overruling Providence, 
 who I believe can, if He please, remove me from trouble, 
 or trouble from me, without a miracle ; and if it should 
 
341 
 
 be consistent with his inscrutable Avisdom, tliat I sliould 
 die upon this cross, 0, may He enable me to say, " Tliy 
 will be done ! " 
 
 No. 206. To J. J. GuRNEY. 
 
 1833, 9 mo. 28. — I would just add, tliat thine and dear 
 M.'s late visit here was not merely pleasant to us, but to me 
 it has left solid satisfaction in its frequent retrospect, like 
 one of those circumstances wherewith, imder the denomi- 
 nation of " helps," a gracious Providence from time to time, 
 and as He sees our need of them, relieves our wilderness 
 journey. These helps are various, both in kind and de- 
 gree ; for our great Alchymist can transmute even the least 
 occurrence into gold or a jewel. Thus, since you left us, 
 I have received another of these favours, by an interest- 
 ing communication from our mutually beloved J. and 
 H. ; and again I have derived much comfort from the 
 remembrance of this verse in Proverbs, " In the fear of 
 the Lord is strong confidence, and his children shall have 
 a place of refuge." 
 
 "When we are fording the current of adversity, which, 
 in its windings, often intersects our path, even such little 
 incidents as these sometimes prove like stepping-stones, on 
 which we can place our feet awhile, and, if not without 
 fear, at least without dismay, calmly survey the surround- 
 ing waters. But, alas ! such is the temperament, such tlie 
 nnworthiness, and such are the weights we have to carry, 
 that it is difficult for some of us, as I believe thou wast to 
 thy cost made sensible of in our little meeting, to keep onr 
 heads above water. May it please Him who prayed that 
 
342 
 
 Peter's faith might not fail, to intercede for us ! Here is 
 my sheet-anchor. 
 
 No. 207. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1833, 10 mo. 8. — Thy account of your late Quarterly 
 Meeting, as well as thy information respecting divers ab- 
 sent friends, who are mutually dear to us, were, so far as 
 I am capable of receiving them, matters of comfort and 
 encouragement to me. For though it is true that my pre- 
 sent state of mind is deservedly a low one, and the ele- 
 ments seem in commotion around me, yet I still am per- 
 mitted to hope that my feet are established upon that rock, 
 from which they shall never be entirely removed ; and a 
 single ray of this hope, to those who have known despair, 
 is an unspeakable mercy. I was glad of thy reference to 
 dear Priscilla's hymns. This little volume has long been 
 a treasure to me, almost next to the Bible. I can hardly tell 
 which it suits best, my spiritual state or my failing memory. 
 The one thou pointedst out is indeed both beautiful and ex- 
 cellent ; and under another class, headed Conjlict, what 
 depths of mysterious experience are developed. The first 
 time I remember to have read Prayer answered hy Crosses, 
 I was astonished at its unfoldings. How many times I 
 have read it since, both in the lines of the book and in 
 those of experience, I cannot tell ; but I find them to agree 
 so fully, that my surprise now is, that it should be possi- 
 ble for such a description to be so realized. 
 
 As I intend no complaint by the last remark, so I 
 hope it will administer no discouragement. I believe that, 
 with myself, thou art reconciled to the doctrine of Christ 
 crucified ; and that, if we would be his followers, we must 
 
343 
 
 expect to suffer a variety of afflictions, both from within 
 and from without. I liave sometimes thought when un- 
 der trial, and found the thouoht a strcno'thening one, that 
 
 ' COO' 
 
 if, according to the propliet, He, our adorable Redeemer, 
 did no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth, yet 
 it pleased the Lord to bruise Him, and put Him to grief, 
 with many other expressions in the same chapter of the 
 like import ; should we, poor sinful creatures, repine at a 
 measure of suffering so far short of his, and also below 
 our deserts ; and so needful, perhaps, for maturing our 
 Christian character, and preparing us for an admission 
 into the kingdom of rest and peace. As my race is not 
 yet completed, thou mayest be ready to wonder, all cir- 
 cumstances considered, at my boldness. But whatever 
 may hereafter bcfal me, such is the present frame of my 
 mind, that I am encouraged, with reverence and gratitude, 
 I trust, thus to commune with thee, my endeared friend, 
 for whom I desire all spiritual preservation and pros])erity. 
 
 No. 208. To Sakaii Squire. 
 
 1833, 10 mo. 14. — From not hearing the contrary, I 
 suppose thy dear T. may still be living, which is more 
 than I once expected. I hope his protracted sufferings 
 will have contributed to his more full preparation for an 
 admission into the realms of eternal blessedness and peace, 
 through the merits and mediation of his Redeemer. ]\[ay 
 the example also of his patience and resignation be such, 
 as to diffuse instriiction and encoura£rement through the 
 little affectionate circle who surround him ! proving t(j 
 them, by a living illustration, the truth and beauty of the 
 following lines, which I quote from memory : 
 
344 
 
 " From the flame's refining power 
 
 More pure the gold of Ophir flows ; 
 From afiliction's trying hour 
 
 jNIore bright the Christian's virtue glows." 
 
 A petition that the Lord would undertake for thee, 
 which, on our taking leave, thou saidst thou wast ready to 
 litter, is one too familiar to my own experience to be soon 
 forgotten. Ah, my dear friend, may we be strengthened 
 in all our tribulations, thus to continue to pray ; and may, 
 at least, a ray of hope never forsake us, that in the end 
 we shall receive, if we faint not ! 
 
 I find myself, at times, both pleased and edified by 
 looking into some of the best of those publications, writ- 
 ten professedly for children and young persons ; — the sim- 
 plicity of the style and language suiting the present state 
 of my understanding, whilst the conciseness of the sen- 
 tences is equally convenient to my failing memory. On 
 taking one of these up very lately, I found the following 
 passages so much to suit me, that I extracted them, and 
 thinking they may suit thee also, I send thee a copy. 
 The subject is, the miraculous draught of fishes : — " Though 
 we have toiled unsuccessfully many a night and many a 
 month, or even for years, we should never despair of 
 God's goodness. Depending on his kindness, we should 
 make new efforts, and expect and pray for his blessing on 
 our honest industry. It is a very encouraging thought, 
 that, even at the moment when his servants have been 
 ready to give up all for lost, He has appeared for them in 
 a wonderful manner, and sent deliverance and prosperity.'' 
 And again, " Indeed, there is no case in which we have 
 a right to say, The Saviour cannot help us." 
 
 How often, in the course of my chequered experience, I 
 
345 
 
 have been brought to the borders of tiespair, and ready to 
 give up all for lost, I cannot tell thee ; and how many 
 times or in how many ways I have been mercifully helped 
 in such seasons, I forbear to tell thee, lest it should savour 
 of boasting. And as to what may be the extent or variety 
 of my present trials, though they seem neither few nor 
 light, yet, as my race is not fully completed, perhaps a 
 further exposure of them may be the best confined to my- 
 self, and the great Searcher of hearts, our adorable and 
 omnipotent God and Saviour. 
 
 No. 209. To JOSIAII FoRSTER. 
 
 1834, 1 mo. 3. — It seems probable that my dear son 
 John will leave Gedney, and that I must change my resi- 
 dence, neither of which is agreeable to me ; but I hope I 
 am endeavouring to walk by that faith, and keep that 
 patience, which I have been at times concerned to recom- 
 mend to others ; yet fully sensible, as I believe it is gene- 
 rally allowed, that it is easier to preach than to practise. 
 It is a gre.at favour, however, not to find, on retrospect, a 
 sting added to the trial. I will not now trouble thee more 
 than to request a continuance of thy sympathetic remem- 
 brance, and best desires for mine and my family's pre- 
 servation by that over-ruling Power, which only can con- 
 duct us with safety over the perilous ocean' of time, and 
 land us in security on the happy shores of eternity. 
 
 By how many dear friends, once well known and be- 
 loved by us, has this voyage been recently brought to its 
 termination, and their immortal spirits, as we reverently 
 trust, through the merits and mediation of Christ Jesus, 
 tlieir Redeemer, translated or introduced into that blessed 
 
 Q 0 
 
346 
 
 inheritance to which I liave alluded, where sorrow and 
 sighing are unknown ; and instead of thera, love, peace, 
 and joy, are, perhaps, the only sensation experienced, 
 forming the grateful theme of an everlasting hallelujah. 
 How mingled, then, are our feelings on such occasions as 
 that before us ! we mourn the loss which the church, the 
 world, and tlieir relatives sustain by their removal, whilst 
 we can scarcely refrain from congratulating thera on their 
 escape from the cares and the conflicts of a mortal ex- 
 istence. Tliis, I think, we may do without impatience, 
 though not without desire, in the Lord's good time, to fol- 
 low them to glory and happiness. Nor need such a de- 
 sire at all interfere with our tenderest regards and obvious 
 duties towards those beloved friends and connexions with 
 whom we are yet associated in our earthly pilgrimage. Do 
 not the bereavements which give rise to it rather strengthen 
 than relax, for every valuable purpose, the bond of our 
 union ? 
 
 How often, toiling many a day and many a night, are 
 we brought to this point of silent trust, as our last resort 
 and only refuge ! May it be mercifully granted us in all 
 our difficulties and dangers, until these calamities are 
 overpast ! 
 
 No. 210. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1834, 1 mo. 7. — Tliou inquLrest of my health and spirits. 
 The first, I am thankful to say, is good, and I am told 1 
 look well for my age : of the last, what shall I say ? A 
 monument of mercies innumerable ! a brand plucked out 
 of the fire ! I ought to be ashamed to complain. If I 
 know myself, I am ashamed to murmur ; yet if, steering 
 clear of both, I might simply describe — truth would cer- 
 
347 
 
 tainly exclude all boasting. The scenes and changes, 
 temporal and spiritual, of which, in the course of my 
 chequered pilgrimage, I have been a witness and a ])ar- 
 taker, with the reflections arising out of them, do at times 
 press so heavily upon me, as, in opposition to all my striv- 
 ing and better feelings, to make me tremble. 
 
 Here I should say, that my friends are kind and my 
 children affectionate ; and that, therefore, mine is an insu- 
 lated sorrow. Well, be it so ! in the hour of my conver- 
 sion, in tliat eventful hour 1 was commanded to be pa- 
 tient in adversity. Moreover, I know that I cannot 
 have one pain more of body or mind than I have de- 
 served. I am also very desirous that my sins may go 
 beforehand to judgment, so that my sufferings may ter- 
 minate with the present life ; and can I expect all this 
 without enduring many tribulations ? What, then, re- 
 mains, but prayer for resignation and for ability to bear 
 them ? 
 
 Thou, my dear friend, wilt, I am sure thou dost, pray 
 for me. The mercy of God in Christ Jesus is not only a 
 darling theme with me, but 1 trust I may with reverence 
 and humility add, here is my rock and my refuge in the 
 day of affliction ; when, — but 1 need not dilate, believing, 
 as I do, that on this point we and thy dear companion 
 have one common faith and liope. 
 
 In my morning meditation, the words, " Thy rod and 
 thy staff they comfort me," were brought to my mind ; and 
 on turning to the precious Psalm whicli contains them, my 
 heart was somewhat tendered : and I believe my eyes 
 woTild, if they could, have wept ; but there is a state in 
 which these fountains seem sealed up, and we are denied 
 the consoling relief of tears. Now, in this description, I 
 
348 
 
 hope there is no murmuring ; for I can most truly and sin- 
 cerely say, at the end of it, " Good is the Lord in all and 
 through all that has befallen or can befal us although, as 
 his ways are higher than our ways, and his thoughts 
 higher than our thoughts. He may, and often does deal 
 very inscrutably with us. 
 
 Although, during the first era of my life, up to about 
 twenty, no human being could, I think, be more fond of 
 society and its pleasures ; yet the turnings and windings 
 of my path since that day, have not only led me into a 
 mental wilderness, but have very much reconciled me to 
 all that I find there ; so that being much alone is neither 
 discouraging nor disagreeable to me. On the contrary, 
 when I hear, and now and then get a view, as I did lately, 
 at a Lincoln electioneering, of the mighty stir in the 
 great and busy world, I solace myself with such thoughts 
 as these : 
 
 0 ! solitude, the man -who thee foregoes, 
 When lucre hires him, or ambition stings, 
 Shall never know the source whence all true grandeur* springs. 
 
 Some, perhaps, would call me a fanciful misanthrope 
 or recluse. I am persuaded thou wilt rather unite with, 
 me in the opinion, that, if a man have not thought of it 
 before, it is time for him at nearly seventy-five, to fami- 
 liarize the recollection that he must die alone, and before 
 very long. 
 
 Thy last little book was a very acceptable present to 
 me : t the subject was certainly the best that could be 
 
 * I think greatness would do as well, and is not quite so proud 
 a word. 
 
 t " On the habitual Exercise of Love to God." 
 
349 
 
 chosen, and I think it is ■well supported. Indeed, thou 
 hadst this great advantage, that it is a much easier task to 
 make such a theme appear lovely and excellent, than so 
 to varnish a bad one as to render it even feasible. And 
 how much talent and ingenuity have often been worse 
 than thrown away in the latter cause ! Happy, then, for 
 thee, and for all those who have chosen that better part ! 
 which, as they cleave to it, shall never be taken from 
 them ; and which so clearly demonstrates, on a compari- 
 son, that the service of God and of Christ is indeed a 
 light and easy yoke, when set against the oppression of 
 the devil. 
 
 No. 211. To J. AND H. C. Backhouse, (when in Ame- 
 rica, travelling on religious service.) 
 
 1834, 1 mo. 18. — Beware, my endeared friends, of giv- 
 ing too much place to the thought that it is absence 
 from your friends and native land, or any combination of 
 external causes, which occasions you pain or anxiety. 
 These are to be found everywhere in our state of proba- 
 tion ; and you may be surprised, when I say, that, even in 
 the retirement of Gedney — which, except a few years at 
 school, has always been my home — I, perhaps, have suf- 
 fered both from bodily illness and mental necessitude 
 equally with yourselves. I do not say that my sensibility, 
 I mean a capacity for joy and sorrow, may be equal to 
 yours ; but according to this capacity, whatever it may 
 be, I yield to no man the palm of tribulation. Yes ; I 
 have found, at different times in my life, and beginning at 
 an early stage of it, affliction to press upon me in such an 
 
350 
 
 overwhelming manner, as to leave me but just in posses- 
 sion of life and intellect ; and as these may, in a certain 
 sense, be said to constitute the man ; so, when reduced to 
 the extremity alluded to, what advantage has the king on 
 his throne over a beggar upon a dunghill ? Here the 
 weakest and the strongest mind, the brightest and the 
 dullest genius are brought to a level ; and should either 
 of them be inclined to boast, if they are honest, 1 believe 
 it must be with Paul and with me, (for once I place my- 
 self by his side,) in our infirmities. 
 
 When I look back over a life, which has not been a 
 very short one, I am ready to think that, prior to experi- 
 ence, I should have doubted the possibility of so much or 
 such a variety of suffering or trouble, arising in a seclu- 
 sion bordering on solitude ; and I have no less cause to be 
 astonished at the merciful preservation and deliverances 
 hitherto vouchsafed to me ; which I find I have as much 
 need, and therefore as much reason, devoutly to pray for 
 as ever, seeing that bonds and afflictions still abide me. 
 But should it from hence appear, as has been asserted by 
 others, that the Christian's life is a continual warfare, and 
 should watchfulness be required to the last hour, yet, in 
 remembrance of the past, under support of the present, 
 and in hope of the future, I can, I trust, with reverence 
 and humility say, thanks be to God, I am not in de- 
 spair. 
 
 Love and esteem for your excellent father's memory is 
 still cherished by me, and sometimes tender emotion, not 
 nnmixed with desire, in the Lord's good time, through the 
 merits and mediation of an adorable Redeemer, to follow 
 my friend to those happy abodes, of which, as we have 
 cause humbly to believe, he is now a blissful inhabitant. 
 
351 
 
 How precious, when we can ever so faintly, if livingly, 
 hope, that sucli will be our final destination ! 
 
 It has indeed been the case, that I have been ready to 
 conclude the storm beats from every quarter ; but amidst 
 it all, I take courao-e in the belief that the fabric of our 
 valuable religious Society, small and unpopular as it may 
 appear, is nevertheless founded upon a rock ; and I do 
 most assuredly believe with you, that its principles, how- 
 ever analyzed and proved, will stand the test, and be 
 found to contain the finest of the wheat. If we venture, 
 however, to speak of the practical operation of these prin- 
 ciples, as exemplified in the conduct and conversation, or 
 lives of their professors, I fear we must lower our tone ; 
 and by one comprehensive word, alas ! include the expres- 
 sion of our surprise, our fears, and our lamentation. For 
 my own part, I am but just able to cling to the hope, 
 that, raised as it was, at the expense of all that is dear to 
 man in this life, and by such a display of Omnipotence, it 
 will not be suffered by its almighty Founder to become 
 extinct, and again to merge into that chaos of opinion and 
 practice, which, both before and snicc its rise, has so re- 
 markably characterized and divided what is sometimes 
 called the religious world — more sanguine and less timid 
 than I am, and disposed to make tlie best of everything, 
 takes a brighter view of our situation ; but as an object 
 takes the hue of the medium through which it is seen, 
 perhaps he looks through a burnished glass, and I through 
 a smoked one, neither of them afi'ording a correct vision. 
 
 I cannot but think the present is an extraordinary time, 
 both in our Society and out of it, as it regards a great 
 part of what passes under the name of civilized and re- 
 ligious communities. And whilst we cannot but rejoice 
 
352 
 
 at the mncli good that is doing and contemplated, we are 
 grieved by the number and enormity of the evils that po- 
 sitively exist. And when I have heard of the differences 
 and disputes that have arisen in Bible Societies, and Anti- 
 slavery Societies, and the spirit in which these controver- 
 sies were conducted ; moreover, when I am told of vain 
 speculation and useless discussion obtruding themselves 
 into scenes and circumstances where we have been accus- 
 tomed to look for nothing but harmony and peace, I have, 
 perhaps too hastily, been ready to say in my heart, — 
 Surely the spirit of discord must be let loose, not upon a 
 section of the earth only, but upon all the inhabitants of 
 it, to prove and to try them in the sieve of vanity, empti- 
 ness, and confusion, perhaps preparatory to something 
 better. Well, in this hope let us endeavour to rest, plant- 
 ing our feet as firmly as we can amidst these sliifting 
 sands ; and as we may be enabled, looking up to that om- 
 niscient and over-ruling Providence, whose tender mercies 
 are over all his works ; blessing Him for his grace, and 
 o'ivino- Him thanks for the outward revelation of his will 
 as contained in the Holy Scriptures ; which all seem to 
 me to tend to the same point — the calming and settling 
 our poor minds upon Himself, as the Alpha and the Omega, 
 the first and the last, which is, and was, and is to come, 
 the Almighty. 
 
 My health is just now, and upon the whole, pretty good, 
 havinof so far the use of my limbs and faculties, as to do 
 common things for myself ; and for the rest, I am much 
 indebted under a gracious Providence to my dear children 
 and friends. The last twelve months have considerably 
 lessened the number of my cotemporaries, both amongst 
 friends and neighbours, so that my own sometimes feels 
 
353 
 
 rather like a protracted life, and reminds me of Doctor 
 Johnson's line, 
 
 " The Christian lags superfluous on the stage." 
 
 May I wait with resigned and patient hope until my 
 change come, and above all, may I be prepared for it ! a 
 desire in which I believe you will unite ; and I can 
 believe also, that, if consistent with the will of our hea- 
 venly Father, it would be pleasant to us all to meet again 
 in mutability;* though to depart and be with Christ 
 would be still better, because then all would be safe. 
 
 No. 212. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1834, 3 mo. 1. — Thou hast expressed a desire for my 
 sympathetic remembrances in the prosecution of thy ar- 
 duous engagements in London and its vicinity. These 
 thou hast I believe daily, how much oftener I cannot say. 
 One thing I know, that, if ever my heart be enabled to 
 ascend by living aspirations to the throne of grace, I desire 
 to bear thee upon it, and that thy true interests of every 
 kind, may be inseparably connected with every breathing 
 and every cry for myself and others, who are the most 
 near and dear to me. So that were I indeed a father, as 
 thou art willing to suppose, perhaps I could do no more. 
 
 On the very important subject of prayer, I sometimes 
 think, that, were the Holy Scriptures, which I increasingly 
 value, sufficiently read and contemplated, without super- 
 seding or disparaging either secret or public supplication, 
 by such a practice, we should have no need of other 
 Liturgies ; as in those invaluable records may be found, 
 * This did not take place. 
 
354 
 
 not only descriptions of almost every possible case and 
 circumstance into which the mind of man can be brought ; 
 but confessions, praises, and petitions suited to all the 
 varieties of these innumerable chan£:es, ■which are often 
 supplied to us in the needful time, and with wonderful 
 adaptation, by that principle, or gift of grace, so appro- 
 priately denominated, the good remenibrancei'. 
 
 Accordingly, may I presume to say, my own mind 
 seems just now to dwell with some degree of rest and 
 hope on two separate portions of sacred writ, the uni- 
 versal prayer of the poor publican and the more particular 
 and private one of David, where he thus implores, " Cast 
 me not off in the time of old age ; forsake me not when 
 my strength faileth." I have called the first of these eja- 
 culations universal, because when some knowledge of God 
 and of ourselves is attained, I suppose there is scarcely 
 another form of words so cono-enial to the contrited heart, 
 or that when thus humbled so unconsciously and spon- 
 taneously escapes from the trembling lips. The last, I 
 call private or particular, as more especially belonging to 
 that advanced stage of human life at which I am now 
 arrived. 
 
 As I often find it easier to copy than to compose, I 
 sometimes supply my own deficiency of stock from other 
 quarters ; and in this way I propose occupying a part of 
 the present sheet by the following extract from Henry 
 Martyn, who says : 
 
 " It has been well observed by one,* who took a pro- 
 found view of human nature, that there are three very 
 difl:crent orbits in which great men move and shine, and 
 that each share of greatness has its respective admirers. 
 * Pascal. 
 
355 
 
 There are those who as heroes fill the world with their ex- 
 ploits ; they are greeted with the acclamations of the 
 multitude ; they are ennobled whilst living, and their 
 names descend with lustre to posterity. Others there are 
 who, by the brilliancy of their imagination or the vigour 
 of their intellect, attain to honour of a purer and higher 
 kind : the fame of these is confined to a more select num^ 
 bei", all have a discriminatinor sense of their merit. A 
 third description there is, distinct from botli the former, 
 and far more exalted than either, whose excellence con- 
 sists in a remmciation of themselves, and a compassionate 
 love for mankind. In this order the Saviour of the world 
 was pleased to appear; and those persons obtain the 
 highest rank in it, who by his grace are enabled most 
 closely to follow his example." 
 
 I very much admire the correctness of these views, par- 
 ticularly as regards the last, which, speaking religiously, 
 I think is quite the climax of human excellence. In the 
 class thus defined, I therefore, not only desire that thou, 
 my dear friend, mayst ever be found ; but that all thy 
 labours by word or writing, may have a uniform tendency 
 to produce and to cherish such true disciples of Christ — 
 of which, whatever she may think, the world has much 
 need. And whilst it is admitted that such characters 
 must not seek great things for themselves, and that they 
 need not expect the distinctions of earthly grandeur or 
 fame, either on a throne, in the acadamy, or in the senate ; 
 but on the contrary, in following their despised and dis- 
 honoured Master, may occasionally have to appear as 
 spectacles to the world, and to angels, and to men ; still I 
 must maintain the sublime and superior nature, both of 
 their present reward, and of their future prospects, which 
 
356 
 
 are no less than a foretaste of heavenly peace, even in tliis 
 w^orld, and in that which is to come, life everlasting. In 
 endeavouring to secure these, is it not worth while to make 
 some sacrifices, and even if it must be so, to sufi'er perse- 
 cution, by being accounted as the filth of the earth, and 
 the offscoviring of all things ? 
 
 I think thou wilt now perceive, that I have no objec- 
 tion to thy preaching " Christ crucified," even should it 
 be attended at times with fear and trembling : — exercises 
 which tlie apostle Paul not only recognises, but has in one 
 instance placed in a very high connexion, no less than the 
 important business of the soul's salvation. We need not 
 then be either afraid or ashamed of this honourable dis- 
 tinction, which perhaps often cometh from God only. 
 
 No. 213.— To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1834, 7 1^0. 23. — Thou hast not been mistaken in sup- 
 posing that, even in the retirement of " green Gedney," 
 though now like Earlham in its beauty, I may possibly 
 have known something of exercise, or even of conflict 
 since we parted. Tliis has indeed been the case, which 
 miglit probably be not only a preparative, but tend consi- 
 derably to increase the consolation I received from thy 
 last affectionate letter, though I am afraid of accepting 
 in full the hope thou hast expressed of my state. This 
 to myself seems truly described in the twelfth verse of 
 the fortieth Psalm : " For innumerable evils have com- 
 passed me about ; mine iniquities have taken hold upon 
 me, so that I am not able to look up : they are more than 
 tlie liairs of mine head, therefore my heart faileth me." 
 I hope also there are seasons in which I can adopt and 
 
357 
 
 appropriate the patlietic supplications contained in the 
 preceding and following verses. " Withhold not thou 
 thy tender mercies from me, O Lord : let thy lovingkind- 
 ness and thy truth continually preserve me." " Be pleased, 
 O Lord, to deliver me : O Lord, make haste to help me." 
 Even with the desired haven in sight, I sometimes am 
 afraid I shall never reach it ; and yet the alternative is so 
 awful that I still buffet the waves, and, with hope on one 
 hand and fear on the other, struggle on. Should these 
 trials ultimately prove to have made a part of the good 
 fight of faith, over the difficulties of which an adorable 
 Redeemer will in his own time and way give me the 
 victory, what a theme for everlasting gratitude, thanks- 
 giving, and praise ! But whilst they are passing, am I 
 not a poor creature, and is it any wonder that thou 
 sliouldst be introduced into sympathy with such an one ? 
 
 In meditating on the many trials, some of them per- 
 haps comparable to baptism, " into the cloud and into the 
 sea," that sometimes separately, and at others conjointly 
 attend the spiritual traveller, more especially the Gospel 
 minister, in the progress of his journey, I have been a 
 little encouraged by the remembrance, that even on the 
 father of the faithful, a horror of great darkness is said 
 to have fallen : that Jonah the prophet was literally 
 plunged into the billows of the great deep and preserved 
 unharmed, whilst they passed over him ; and that to a 
 state tossed with tempest, and not comforted, those ])tc- 
 cious promises were made, which doubtless down to the 
 present day, have been, and still are, fulfilling. So that 
 in our darkest moments, — and do they not at times appear 
 very dark ? — we have ground to hope, that if we do not 
 cast away our confidence, our reward will be sure. May 
 
358 
 
 it then be the predominant desire of our hearts, that help 
 equal to every exigency may be granted, enabling us either 
 to preach the Gospel of our Redeemer, or, if more con- 
 sistent with his blessed will respecting us, silently to 
 suffer* The latter, if I mistake not my vocation, seems 
 more peculiarly the lot appointed for me. 
 
 The Sacred Writings bear abundant testimony to the 
 character and offices of Christ, the living ineffable essential 
 Word. They negatively disclaim all assumption or in- 
 fringement upon either this character or these offices ; 
 and according to my apprehension, for this very obvious 
 reason, that as they are not such in reality, so they should 
 not be confounded with Him., or his attributes, who made 
 and upholds the world by the word of his power, and is 
 the life of all that lives, both in nature and in grace. 
 There also appears the less reason for this confusion, as 
 we know there are such a number and variety of suitable 
 appellations, by which the Sacred Writings may be desig- 
 nated. I think there is also a danger, and in this perhaps 
 lies the principal weight of tlie objection, lest, by resting 
 in the Scriptures as the only word, we should neglect or 
 avoid coming to Christ himself, to have those operations 
 performed in and upon our hearts, by which the pride of 
 man is humbled, and his loftiness laid in the dust. For 
 what can be more abasing, than to come to that stone by 
 which we shall be broken ? Yet this is easier, than for it 
 to fall upon us and grind uS to powder ; and whatever 
 may be our reluctance or unbelief, submit we must. To 
 the name of Jesus every knee must bow, either in mercy 
 or in judgment. 
 
 Please to present my dear love to Ihy aunt ; how 
 deeply interesting to me was the transient interview with 
 
359 
 
 her! the first, since the decease of her husband; what d 
 crowd of mingled sensations, impossible to describe, 
 rushed with almost the rapidity of lightning aci'oss my 
 mind ! sorrow for the loss of a dear, perhaps taken for all 
 in all, my dearest friend — joy in his emancipation — sym- 
 pathy with his valuable relict, and with all those who, 
 like her, so loved him, as never to expect on earth, to look 
 upon his like again. Was not this much to be compressed 
 in a space of time comparable to the twinkling of an eye; 
 and yet if my heart does not greatly deceive me, I felt 
 it all, and am thankful that I coidd feel it ; as I desire 
 never to outlive a capacity for such emotions on suitable 
 occasions, and in their due degree : for notwithstanding 
 modern speculations, they are neither barren nor morbid 
 sensibilities ; on the contrary, though unseen of men, I be- 
 lieve they are productive of glory, honour, and praise, to 
 their Holy Author. 
 
 No. 214. To Peter Bedford. 
 
 1834, 8 mo. 15. — I still decidedly think there is a 
 plain difference between the Sacred Writings, highly as I 
 value them, and the Spirit that gave them forth, and 
 but for which they would never have been ; I am there- 
 fore solicitous, perhaps almost to tenacity, that what ap- 
 pears to me to be an important and proper distinction 
 should be preserved. And further as tlierc are so many 
 appropriate appellations, t'v which tlie Holy Scriptures 
 may be designated without the least disparagement of 
 their excellence and superiority to all other writings, it 
 would be a matter of deep regret, if, by assuming a title 
 which they nowhere claim for themselves, a single mind 
 
360 
 
 should be diverted from a due seeking after and attention 
 Unto that inspeaking Word nigh in the heart, which is 
 able to save the soul. 
 
 At our last parting, thou thought I looked rather 
 anxious and depressed ; I am not aware that this was 
 more the case then, than I expect may pretty often hap- 
 pen. I should regret giving an appearance of gloom to 
 religion, for none belongs to it ; and still more to make 
 the heart of the righteous sad, by bearing about with me 
 a visible expression of my own cares. Perhaps it might 
 not be too much for me to say, that, as sackcloth has on 
 various accounts long been the covering of my spirit, this 
 homely garment, though meant to be secret, may some- 
 times unintentionally and unknown to myself, be seen 
 through the veil of flesh, that transparent veil, of which, 
 ill allusion to fine threads of mortality at last giving way, 
 it has been beautifully observed, one gentle sigh may rend, 
 and introduce us into an entirely new state of things, a 
 purely spiritual world. 
 
 No. 215. To JoSIAH FoHSTER. 
 
 1834, 9 mo. 13. — How necessary it appears for those 
 whose standing in society scarcely admits of their being 
 indifferent, or even inactive spectators, to be watchful and 
 ciireful of every step they take, not only for the sake of 
 others, but for their own sakes, that so none of these 
 shakings may move them from that sure foundation, on 
 which the feet of their minds may have once been merci- 
 fully placed ! 
 
 And as I believe the false notion of " once in grace, 
 ever in grace," makes no part either of thy creed or mine. 
 
361 
 
 I cannot doubt but tbat we both feel the necessity for 
 continual watchfulness unto prayer, that we may be fa- 
 voured with wisdom and strengtli to stand in every time 
 of need and of trial, whatever be its nature. For tlio 
 longer we live, the more sensible we probably each of us 
 are, that it is not by past experience, or even by those 
 works of righteousness, (and such I think they may be 
 called,) which through divine assistance we may in days 
 past have obediently performed ; that tlie work of the 
 soul's salvation is wrought out, and completed : but that 
 the repeated washing of regeneration, and the fresh re- 
 newings of the Holy Ghost are absolutely necessary to 
 the carrying on and perfecting of this all-important con- 
 cern. 
 
 It may be worthy of observation that the houses de- 
 scribed in the parable, as those of wise and foolish 
 builders were equally exposed to the storm, though their 
 end was so different. But in the full consideration of 
 this important passage of Scripture, we must, I appre- 
 hend, have regard both to tlie free agency and fallibility 
 of man, by supposing that, although his feet may have 
 been set even upon a rock that was higher than himself, 
 and his goings established so long as he continued there- 
 upon ; by admitting also that whilst in a state of proba- 
 tion, he has the power of changing his position; — and 
 from his natural weakness and corruption, acted upon as 
 they are, he is imder a continual liability of being either 
 drawn or seduced from it ; so that it is only as divine 
 ability is sought and obtained to endure and not yield to 
 the tempest, that Ixis building, however fair and specious, 
 can possibly stand through all the vicissitudes of time, 
 especially as danger is sometimes found to lurk, unper- 
 
 R 
 
362 
 
 ceived by merely human vision, in the very calm and snn- 
 shine of life. 
 
 There are tvro objects, which thougli outwardly very 
 dissimilar, yet taken figuratively, seem to have consi- 
 derable bearing upon Christian experience. A vessel that 
 with broken mast and torn sails, is still kept steady by 
 ballast ; and the eagle, which, after having had its plu- 
 mage sorely ruffled by weather, gains the top of a promon- 
 tory, from whence, relying upon her stability, she views 
 and braves the storm, waiting in pensive yet majestic 
 solitude the return of a serener sky. I sometimes have 
 thought as applied to an aged pilgrim (say anj- one but 
 myself,) these lines are very beautiful and appropriate : — 
 
 " As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, 
 Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm ; 
 Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread 
 Eternal sunshine settles on its head." 
 
 Attended liowcver as I am by fears and failings, I must 
 not soar either with the eagle, or with the saint ; and I 
 am therefore now and then not a little encouraged, when 
 dear friends can hope for me, that W'hich I scarcely dare 
 hope for myself. At the same time it would be ungrate- 
 ful to the Lord, and might seem discouraging to his 
 jieople, were I to withhold the reverent acknowledgment, 
 that there are seasons in which I am enabled to adopt this 
 language of the Psalmist, " Blessed be God who has not 
 turned away my prayer, nor his mercy from me." 
 
363 
 
 No, 216. To Sarau SafiRE. 
 
 1S34, 9 mo. 20. — I have been familiar with both bodily* 
 and mental sufferings, especially the latter from my very 
 childhood. I have been lifted up and cast down, emptied 
 from vessel to vessel ; my plans and my prospects, even 
 the brightest and best of them, so turned and overturned, 
 that, were any one to ask for my history, I perhaps might 
 send them to that remarkable hymn, entitled " Prayers 
 answered by Crosses," in which I seem to behold my own 
 face as in a glass ; and yet in all, and through all this, I 
 can reverently acknowledge that the Lord has preserved 
 and at times signally helped me. Blessed be his holy and 
 adorable Name ! 
 
 Ought I not then, and ought not any one who has 
 passed through such a course — a course of which we may 
 the more freely speak, as it is one not very likely to excite 
 self-complacency ; ought we not, after experiencing such 
 awful vicissitudes, to be willing, according to the ability 
 aflforded, to enter into exercise with one another as compa- 
 nions in tribulation ; and when it is given us, to drop a 
 word, if it be only a word, of encouragement or consola- 
 tion to a brother or a sister who is weary. Thus happy, 
 as instruments in tlie Divine hand, however weak and un- 
 worthy of ourselves, we may at seasons contribute to 
 hold up the hands that hang down, and confirm the feeble 
 knees. 
 
 I may perhaps have been partly led into the indulgence 
 of these reflections, by a reference in tiiy letter to the 
 short portion of Scripture, which I tliought it best for me 
 to revive at Spalding ; and in yielding to the impression^ 
 
 R 2 
 
364 
 
 from the manner in which thou sayest in has recurred and 
 dwelt with thee, I hope I was not wrong. May we not 
 both with liumble gratitude believe that the application 
 of it to thy benefit was indeed the Lord's doing, and 
 oven marvellous in our eyes that so small a matter in 
 itself should have been made a comfort to tlicc in perhaps 
 a needful time ? This may teach us that it is the blessing 
 of the Most High, either upon much or little, that can 
 only make our labours prosperoTis according to Scripture 
 " Paul may plant, ApoUos water, but," &c. I think the 
 fifty-fifth chapter of Isaiah, from which my very brief 
 quotation was taken, favours these views, and is, at least 
 in several parts of it, deeply interesting to a gospel minister. 
 Often, when perplexed by considering how limited our 
 knowledge, and how incomprehensible are the dealings of 
 Providence with us, in our present state of probation, has 
 my mind been driven as it were for refuge to this impor- 
 tant verse, " My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither 
 are my ways your ways, saith the Lord." Here I have 
 generally found rest in the renewed conviction that I must 
 trust in something better than my own understanding. 
 Should we be favoured at last to reach the haven of peace, 
 many things which are now difficult and incomprehensi- 
 ble to us, will receive a solution. " What I do thou 
 knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter," said 
 the blessed Jesus to his warm-hearted, but somewhat 
 prompt and inquisitive disciple. 
 
 The pathetic supplication which thou hast cited, — 
 " Spare thy people, O Lord," &c. as the often-adopted 
 language of thy heart, is a passage to which mine also 
 frequently responds, as from the depths of silence and soli- 
 tude : in my case therefore it may much oftener aspire in 
 
365 
 
 a groan unutterable, than by other expressions. But it 
 may be worthy of observation, that a fast, and solemn 
 assembly was first convened, as a preparation or prelude 
 to the vocal and more public utterance of this mournful 
 and piercing cry ; yet after being thus reduced as into the 
 valley of humiliation, what most precious promises and 
 assurances were given to the people. And were the mem- 
 bers of our religious Society more generally willing to be 
 in like manner humbled and broken, who can tell but 
 the Lord might graciously condescend to look down upon 
 us, and give us to experience brighter days and better 
 things ? 
 
 No. 217. To J. J. GURNEY. 
 
 1834, 10 mo. 25. — Being rather tottering, I do not see 
 what I can do better, than place myself between thee and 
 thy dear Mary, as those who I believe will be botii able 
 and willing to lend support to an old friend, until he re- 
 cover breath to pursue, or strength to finisli his course, 
 whichever may in wisdom or in mercy be appointed him. 
 
 The plain trutli is, that, owing partly perhaps to the 
 autumnal weatlier, I have been rather unwell for the last 
 week or ten days, which has kept me mostly within 
 doors, and twice from meeting, so that from the manner in 
 which the cold and damp air alfects my chest, I am appre- 
 hensive of being obliged . to take up my winter quarters 
 earlier than usual. 
 
 I have also — without any additionally obvious reason, 
 and amidst all, with very much to be thankful for, both 
 to Providence and my friends — been a good deal tried with 
 mental suffering, so that sometimes I have thought I could 
 
 u 3 
 
366 
 
 comprehend, if I did not experience, tlie import of these 
 significant lines : 
 
 " Can the poor lieart always ache ? 
 
 No : — the tortured nerve will languish 
 Or the strings of life must break." 
 
 What a favour it is, as we probably each of us know, 
 when the strained nerve of sensibility relaxes into tender- 
 ness, or, in language more familiar with our profession and 
 character, when exercises difficult to bear, and beyond our 
 own power to remove, are lightened by the hand of that 
 Saviour, who promised rest to the weary and heavy-laden 
 soul, or when perhaps for a season they may be entirely 
 taken away by a gracious God, who, saith the apostle, is 
 faithful, and will not suffer us to be tempted above that 
 we are able to bear. 
 
 In seeking for the cause of these baptisms — and this, 
 however vain it may appear, is a thing we can scarcely 
 avoid — a dim lioht seems to arise from the consideration 
 that, as I certainly " have not attained, neither am already 
 perfect," it consequently follows that the important work 
 of regeneration may be, must be, incomplete, and that 
 perhaps the almost nameless feelings alluded to, are a part 
 of the sufferings attendant on this progressive and neces- 
 sary work of forming that entirely new creature, or spiri- 
 tual character, of wliich it is said, " Old things are passed 
 away ; behold, all things are become new ; and all things 
 are of God." 
 
 From the first surrender of the human will to the 
 guidance and government of the Holy Spirit, I apprehend 
 the birth immortal takes its date ; and so long as our will 
 continues to be resigned and subject to the Divine will^ 
 
367 
 
 tliongli it iritay be attended with many interruptions, and 
 by no means exempt from probation, yet the new creature 
 gradually goes forward, through every change, in summer 
 and winter, by night and by day ; so that first the little 
 child, next the young man, then the strong man, are 
 successively produced ; until finally, should natural life 
 be continued, and obedience keep pace with knowledge, 
 tlie measure of the fullness of the stature of Christ is at- 
 tained. 
 
 It is however a cheering and encouraging thought, 
 which I sometimes indulge, at least on behalf of others, 
 especially for pious young people, or newly converted per- 
 sons, that, at whatever stage of his character or growth, 
 the real Christian may be summoned from this world, he 
 is safe and in a state of acceptance. In that sense I un- 
 derstand the passage, " The cliild shall die an Imndred 
 years old," &c. But let not this view, for I think it need 
 not, cause any to neglect their daily business of watching 
 unto prayer, or induce them to slacken in their spiritual 
 journey ; rather let it stimulate tliem to go on from 
 grace to grace, that so their day's work having kept 
 pace with the day, whenever called, they may be pre- 
 pared. 
 
 I have been pleased to hear that dear Mary has re- 
 ceived the acknowledgment of Friends as a minister ; and 
 were I to add a word of fatherly advice, it might be this : 
 that, as a servant of Christ, she endeavour to sliow all 
 good fidelity, adorning the doctrine of God her Saviour in 
 all things : and on the other hand, that she never, as I 
 fear is sometimes attempted, decorate self with his inesti- 
 mable jewels, which are committed to us in trust, for use, 
 
368 
 
 not for ornament ; this practice I believe seldom answers. 
 We had much better in simplicity and sincerity, seek only 
 to serve and honour the Lord, leaving it to Him to honour 
 us in the way He sees best ; and should we not receive it 
 from our fellow mortals, if we are faithful, He will bestow 
 upon us that which is far better, even the honour that 
 Cometh from Himself only. Let her diligently and care- 
 fully attend to her own precious gift. " Mind your calling, 
 brethren," is an excellent motto. 
 
 On my way homeward fi-om our late Quarterly Meeting, 
 while stopping to bait at Swineshead, I walked into the 
 burial-ground, called tlie church-yard, where amongst 
 names and other inscriptions, " spelt by the unlettered 
 muse," I at length discovered something like a diamond, 
 which pleased me so much, that, borrowing a pencil, and 
 resting on a neighbouring tombstone, I copied it, and in- 
 tended herewith to send it to thee. Independently of its 
 composition, which perhaps thou mayest think with me is of 
 no very common order, it possesses an intrinsic advantage, 
 from being, as I am well assured, historically true, which 
 cannot be said of epitaphs and eulogies. Possibly Mary 
 may find in plain prose the short and simple annals of this 
 pious poor woman amongst her tracts, headed " Amelia 
 Gale, Swineshead, Lincolnshire." 
 
 Inscriptio7i over the grave of Amelia GaJe, late of Sicines- 
 head, copied from the stone, the Wth of \Oth mo. 1834. 
 
 " Alive, when all her kin were dead 
 Alone in this dark world she stood, 
 Like the scathed oak that lifts its head, 
 Where flourished once a mighty wood. 
 
369 
 
 Yet ere the sinner passed from earth, 
 Who long had drawn unliallowed breath, 
 
 The Gospel gave her second birth, 
 To save her from the second death. 
 
 Then lived she to herself no more, 
 
 But loving much, since much forgiven, 
 
 Her Saviour's cross she meekly bore, 
 And took the Calvary road to heaven. 
 
 And still she lives to Him, though dead, 
 
 For while her memory survives, 
 Others, by her example led. 
 
 May show her living in their lives." 
 
 Grave as the subject of these lines is, they may pos- 
 sibly brighten some that preceded them ; but however 
 this may be, I hope you (for I have had both in view 
 from beginning to end) will accept the whole as a token 
 of my affectionate remembrance and unchanging love. 
 
 P, S. I have been informed that you are likely soon to 
 resume your weighty religious engagement in and about 
 London, in which it is my sincere desire, that the Lord 
 may be your ever-present helper, and his beloved Son, 
 Christ Jesus, your All in all. How comprehensive is this 
 idea ! 
 
 No. 218. To JoSIAH FORSTER. 
 
 1834, 12 mo. 8. — I think it no small privilege that I 
 am yet able to appreciate the friendship of many loved 
 and valued Friends, which, if accompanied by the unity 
 of the Spirit in the bond of peace, I consider the sweetest 
 enjoyment on this side the grave. And if thou canst 
 admit of my definition of unity, as consisting of love, 
 
370 
 
 concord, and harmony with each other, and peace as the 
 kindness of our heavenly Father to us all, perhaps we 
 shall be agreed ; for what can we expect in a state of pro- 
 bation, as this life certainly is, beyond these holy and 
 precious feelings. And yet perhaps some of us old folks, 
 with infirmities increasing, and dangers attending, may be 
 allowed at times to sigh for that further happiness, which 
 an apostle has told us, is far better than a continuance 
 here. May we be enabled to wait with patience for this 
 blessed consummation of our faith and hope ! 
 
 I was more concerned than surprised, to find by thy 
 letter, that several of my beloved friends in thy neigh- 
 bourhood, some of them like myself, of a generation fast 
 passing away, have been unwell, and that one of thy aged 
 aunts is deceased. 
 
 I have thought it not improbable that elderly persons 
 may feel somewhat different to younger ones, on the death 
 of their coteroporaries ; less acutely on their own account, 
 and more of a quiet hope, sometimes almost amounting 
 to congratulation of the emancipated spirit of their de- 
 parted friend, whom> in the Lord's good time, they would 
 gladly follow. 
 
 There are two words, lote and truth, which taken singly, 
 seem so to fill the mind with their important signification, 
 that one is ready to think, they almost comprehend all 
 that can be said on tlie subjects to which they respectively 
 relate ; and yet we find, that, in able hands and under 
 right influence, each of them admits of an amplification, to 
 which it is not easy, if possible, to set any limits. Perhaps 
 the little volume of our dear J. Gurnoy's, the perusal of 
 which thou sayest afforded thee satisfaction, may be some 
 illustration of the last remark. I, too, though as thou 
 
371 
 
 knowest, no amplifier myself, have just been reading it, 
 and I trust with feelings somewhat similar to thine, as to 
 the exceeding greatness of " the love of God in Christ 
 Jesus, our Lord ; " respecting which, whilst on one hand 
 we find that the contemplation of it strikes us with reve- 
 rential silence ; on the other it appears, that, under a well- 
 directed sense of duty, too mucli scope can scarcely be 
 given to utterance ; and that the theme, when due allow- 
 ance is made for its earthen vehicle, whether tongue or 
 pen, is, like its source, inexhaustible. In heaven, this 
 rapturous hosanna, free from human imperfections, doubt- 
 less resounds continually, with every advantage and charm 
 that purified and glorified spirits only can bestow. See 
 Rev. v. and vii. 9, to the end of each chapter. 
 
 No. 219. To J. AND II. C. Backhouse. 
 
 1834, 12 mo. 15. — The Lord's servants in different ages 
 have been led about and instructed in a way marvellous 
 to themselves and other?, not unfrcquently in direct oppo- 
 sition to their own desires and conclusions ; and yet they 
 liave not been able to find any other way to true peace, 
 than by yielding obedience to the pointings of apprehended 
 duty. Amidst a cloud of witnesses we may instance the 
 apostle Paul, who was much exercised after this manner, 
 by being commanded to go here, and forbidden to go there, 
 ■without regard to his previous tlioughts or the appearance 
 of things, and sometimes against both one and the other. 
 He assayed to go into Bithynia, but the Spirit suffered 
 him not ; and when on another occasion, he was assured 
 even by a prophet, that if he persisted in his design of 
 
372 
 
 going up to Jerusalem, bonds and afflictions awaited liim, 
 he nevertheless went ; and as to his general commission to 
 preach the Gospel, he seems to have considered the per- 
 formance of it against his will, as a seal and confirmation 
 of his appointment. 
 
 It may indeed truly be said, as in ancient times, of the 
 Creator and Preserver of men, " How great is his goodness, 
 and how wonderful are his works towards the children of 
 men ! Ilis judgments are unsearchable, and his "ways 
 past finding out ; for after a manner incomprehensible by 
 mere human intellect He deals with us, both in temporal 
 and spiritual things." I think this is not too much to 
 aflirm ; nor need it surprise or alarm us when we consider 
 the scriptural declaration, that the ways of the Lord are 
 higher than our ways ; and his thoughts than our thoughts. 
 May He be graciously pleased, through the mediation of 
 his beloved Son, a High Priest touched with a feeling of 
 human infirmities, to grant us faith and patience equal to 
 our exigencies in all the turnings of his holy hand within 
 and without us ; and this, if we ask according to his will 
 we are encouraged to expect that He will do ; and in endea- 
 vouring to petition for it, let us also believe that the Spirit 
 will help us sometimes in an unutterable manner. What- 
 ever else you may think of these sentiments, you will not, 
 I am persuaded, consider them as mere words of course, 
 or technicalities of my religious education. No : if I did 
 not know what it was to sufier, if I had not experienced 
 the necessity of resignation, and the impossibility without 
 divine aid of living under its constant exercise, I think I 
 dare not express myself as I have done ; but however dif- 
 ferent our localities may be, I feel convinced, that, as re- 
 spects the common salvation, there is equal need of being 
 
373 
 
 fed with the same spiritual food from the same spiritual 
 source in every part of the world. 
 
 No. 220. To J. J. GuRNEY. 
 
 1835, 1 mo. 29. — Knowing the aboundings of tliy sym- 
 piathetic mind towards me, I am ready to fear that I must 
 have made thee " sorry" by more than one letter, par- 
 ticularly by the last. It seems due to our friendship, that, 
 wlienever circumstances will warrant, you both should 
 be made " partakers of my joy," especially if, as I trust 
 at the present time, this joy is in the Lord, towards whose 
 holy habitation, having endeavoured to look up out of 
 inexpressible depths, He has, as I reverently believe, con- 
 descended once more to listen to my cry, and place my 
 feet again on dry ground, where, as on the banks of deli- 
 verance, I am enabled to lift up my hands in his name, 
 and return Him grateful thanks. 
 
 It being however the safest to say little of ourselves, 
 further than may appear likely in some way to promote 
 the glory of God, or the benefit one of another, and more- 
 over as it requires care that we be not too lavish of bread 
 given us for our own support, I shall not enlarge much 
 more on this subject than to give you the invitation of 
 David, at Psalm xc. verse 6 : " O come, let us worship 
 and bow down ; let us kneel before the Lord our Maker 
 unless it be just to add, that, although I am at present 
 thus favoured with a considerable degree of relief from 
 mental suffering, yet former experience convinces me 
 that I ought to " rejoice with trembling," and if I ex- 
 press my feelings at all, that it should be in the subdued 
 and chastened voice of deep humiliation : — seeing that I 
 
 s 
 
374 
 
 am still in the body, attended by wants and infirmities, 
 and surrounded by the combined operation of causes, both 
 physical and mental, which, but for the exercise of un- 
 merited mercy and almighty power, must long since have 
 sunk me to rise no more ; and which but for a continuance 
 of the same power and mercy, may yet conduct my gray 
 head by the path of sorrow to the grave. "Well — here I 
 stand, and the above I think is a sober, and not an ex- 
 aggerated expose of my present condition, at least of my 
 thoughts. 
 
 On a comparison of intellectual, perhaps it might even 
 be said, of religious characters, we perceive a surprising 
 variety. Thus, if thou were to place those of thy two 
 aged friends, the late Wm. Wilberforce, and him who is 
 now addressing thee, side by side, I suppose the contrast 
 would appear striking ; but need this oft'end or alarm us ? 
 Is not harmony itself composed of different parts, appro- 
 priately sustained ? so that if every bird is but true and 
 faithful to its own note, perhaps it shall not matter much 
 whether it be that of the plaintive dove, or the more me- 
 lodious niffhtinaale. 
 
 I must now tell thee how much I have been comforted 
 and almost delighted by the second section of thy little 
 volume on " Love to God and having a few friends with 
 me last eveninsr, I had it read for our mutual benefit and 
 enjoyment, and had the satisfaction of believing that these 
 effects were produced : may the impression be permanent. 
 Of the few first pages of this acceptable book, I have been 
 a little doubtful, as to how far a meetness or preparation 
 for the enjoyment of heaven may not be insisted on in a 
 way, and to an extent, rather discouraging to the eleventh- 
 liour sinner, or the death-bed penitent : two descriptions of 
 
375 
 
 persons, wlio I am persuaded arc so interesting to eacli of 
 us, that we should he sorry to put them in too much fear 
 of the blessed and high privilege promised even to a late 
 repentance, by tlie forgiveness of sins ; I need not say 
 through whose merits, mediation, and advocacy. But the 
 poor pi'odigal, Mary Magdalene, the tliief on the cross, 
 Rochester, Buckingham, and similar instances of scriptural 
 and biographical notoriety, suit my ov^ n case so well, and 
 have been so much and so long the subjects of my medi- 
 tation, that I may possibly have acquired too strong a 
 bias in favour of gratuitous mercy, as containing in itself a 
 grand preparative, by inspiring sometimes very late and 
 very suddenly the hnportant sentiments and feelings of 
 deep self-abasement on one hand ; and on the other, the 
 most exalted love and gratitude to God — dispositions, in 
 which whatever else may bo granted, I desire more than I 
 can express, that ice, my beloved friends, may, with the 
 innumerable company of redeemed souls, who reach that 
 haven of rest and peace, spend a joyful eternity in tlianks- 
 giving and praise ! 
 
 No. 221. To J. J. AND M. GURNEY. 
 
 Chatteris, 1835, 2 mo. 2G. — Being favoured with the 
 ability, I am inclined to tell you that I yet live and love 
 you ; considering you, as I do, one in the Lord ; and in 
 your kindness to me, of course, this my love towards you, 
 is one and undivided. Still I should be sorry to request 
 the fatigue of a visit from you both ; yet if his engage- 
 ments will allow it, and his dear Master permit it, a visit 
 from Joseph would be so much more than a mere satisfac- 
 tion, that, suiiject as above stated, I think he will not refuse 
 
376 
 
 me ; for though I belic'vo myself convalescent, it would be 
 presumptuous to be sanguine. I shall at present only add, 
 that goodness and mercy attend me. Praised be the Lord ! 
 
 This last extract, written only a few weeks before his 
 final close, was dictated by our aged and beloved friend, 
 (he had begun the letter, but was too feeble to proceed,) 
 "when recovering from the serious illness which he met with 
 at his son's residence. It is truly animating to observe, as 
 the end of life drew near, after all the mental conflicts of 
 this Christian pilgrim, which however had not been un- 
 mixed with spiritual joys, how he was enabled to lay 
 hold of the hope set before him in the Gospel, and to look 
 forward to that happy period, when he should be for ever 
 imited with his Lord and Redeemer. His purified spirit 
 is now, we reverently trust, added to the ransomed of the 
 Lord, who come to Zion with songs, and everlasting joy 
 upon their heads ; who obtain joy and gladness, and sor- 
 row and sighing flee away. " Blessed are the dead who 
 die in the Lord !" 
 
 THE END. 
 
 J. Rickerby, Printer, Sherbourn Lane. 
 
 4^