Chapter II
New epoch in Whitmore Winslow’s life — Memorable conversion — Letter to his father — Reply — His baptism — Sabseqaent refleotionB — Spiritnal flactuations — Letters from his grandmother — Visit to Paris — Letters to his mother — Letters to his cousin.
But a more decided and solemn epoch in Whitmore Winslow’s history was about to unfold. The time had arrived, when, in the purpose and providence of God, he should no longer remain Christ’s hidden one.’ The Lord was about to call iom his seclusion this secret disciple, and to withdraw the veil which had so long concealed the kingdom of God within his soul. The Chief Shepherd of His flock has declared, ‘I wUl both search and seek out my sheep;** and they are designated, when thus called, people sought outf That the subject of this memorial had not already confessed Christ before men is not to be ascribed, as already intimated, to any deficiency of moral courage, or any desire to shrink from the obligations which an open profession of Christianity involves. He did not wish to steal in ambush to heaven, nor did he
Ezekiel zdr. 11. t Isaiah Izii. 12.
love to bear Christ’s yoke in his youth less because he loved nnchecked liberty better. His very sincerity formed his chief hindrance. He hesitated ere he took the solemn and decided step, lest in so doing he shoald deceive others, and yet more fearfully and fatally deceive himself. He knew he was not far from the kingdom of God; yea, that there were blissful moments when he felt assured that he had crossed its threshold and had seen the King in his beauty;* — and still he lingered. But the Lord, * whose he was, and whom he served* was about to take the work in His own hands, and in His own way * bring forth his righteousness as the lights and his judgment as the noonday.*
It was on Lord’s-day evening, November 9, 1851, that the subject of the discourse was taken from 1 Kings xviii. 21: “How long halt ye be* iween two opinions? if the Lord be Ood, follow him.’* “Decision for Christ” was the topic naturally illustrated and enforced by the passage. On our return from the sanctuary, Whitmore was absent from the family circle. As this was occasionally his habit after public service, his vacant place did not occasion particular inquiry. Betiring to my room for the nightp a note addressed, “To dear Papa,” in his handwriting.
* LETTER TO HIS FATHER. 59
Eurrested my attention. I read its contents, with, awe-stmck emotions. It was as follows: —
**’ Sunday Night, November 9th.” Dearest Papa, — What I am about to tell you I do tremulously, but with a conscious sense that it is my duty. Your sermon to-night was irresistible. Long, long, have I been halting between two opinions; not whether I should embrace Christ or not, for He has long been my Saviour and the staff of my youth; but whether it was right for me to confess it, feeling, as I have done, that my conduct has often been so contrary, that to make such a profession would seem but hypocrisy. This, then, has hindered me. I feel myself so vile in my own eyes, and in those of yourself and the world. But vile as I am, Christ is mine, and I dare not, dare not at the peril of my peace of conscience, hesitate one moment to confess it. Though great the responsibiKty-great my weakness — heavy the crosa- €rod may give me grace to bear it, and to choose in the place of worldly ambition to serve Him who has saved me. Dearest Papa, it is indeed a struggle with me to say this — I almost fear I have said too much — but pray for me, that I may have more grace and greater holiness. I tell this first to you, dear Papa, for it is under your ministry my soul has been led to Christ. May the Lord guide me in the right path!
Your affectionate Son,
“Whitmobb.”
Such, was the announcement which met my eye. The effect was stunning — overpowering — indescribable. The first sensation was that of a pleasant dream that seemed too blissful to realize. But in a moment the beautiful vision assumed a form too real and palpable to admit of a doubt. The heart throbbed — the eye was moistened — the cup of gladness was more than full. I remembered the new and strange emotions which trembled in my breast when as an infant he was first folded to my heart — my first-born child — the thrill of that moment still lingers. But now that he was * horn again,^ clasped in my arms, a * new creature in Christ Jesus — my spiritual child — my son in the Gospel — pardoned, justified, adopted, saved, for ever saved! — joh it was the very depth of joy — joy unspeakable! My child was a child of God! The prayers which preceded his birth — which cradled his infancy — which girdled his youth — were answered — my son was Christ’s! The weary watchings — the yearning desires — the trembling hopes of years were at rest — our first-born was avowedly the Lord’s.
Unequal from the excitement and emotions of the occasion, added to the fatigue of the day, to a personal interview at that moment, a few lines responsive to his note were sent to his room: —” Lorda-day Evening, Nov, 9, 1851.
“My dearest Whitmore, — Your precious note has filled my heart with inexpressible joy. Before going to my pulpit this evening I knelt before the Lord, and asked His especicU blessing upon His word about to be delivered, little thinking that that request would be granted in the happy experience of my own first-bom child. The Lord be praised for all that you have written to me! I rejoiced greatly in your first birth, but oh, how much greater is my joy in your second! I receive you, my dear boy, as given to me a second time from the Lord. He has vouchsafed to you grace to decide for Him — and to Him I now surrender you! You have been the child of many prayers, before and since your birth. And a prayer-hearing God has this night sealed the answer, and you are His! Now follow on to know more of Jesus, and to confess Him before the world. You have * chosen the good part,’ and it shall never be taken from you. Christ is yours, the Guide of your youth, and your Portion for ever. Your dear mamma and I have bowed together in thankfulness to the Lord for His grace towards you, and for His grace in you. The Lord bless you, dearest Whitmore, make you a faithful minister of His word, and give you a crown of life that fadeth not away. O let all your future walk be worthy of Him who has * called you out of darkness into His marvellous light.’ You will ever have — as long as I possess a heart to pray — the prayers of your
“Affectionate Papa.”
Reader! is your heart snriendered to Jesns?
The following brief but expressive record of this memorable eyent in bis personal history is found in Whitmore’s journal:
“Sunday Night, Nov. 9th, 1851. — Eventful period! one for which I have long prayed, and have now received the answer. I have confessed my Saviour by an avowal of His love this night to my dear papa, and I hope soon to do so publicly. It was under a mast powerful and convincing sermon. ‘How long halt ye between two opinions? if the Lord he God, follow Him,* The Lord accompanied His truth with such power to my soul that I could not resist, and can no longer linger.”
On the following morning we met as we had never met before. It seemed as if a new, a hitherto latent character had suddenly unveiled its beauty and freshness to my eye. His natural reserve was gone, his long and invincible silence was broken, and a fall and touching interchange of sentiment and affection transpired — new founts of feeling and of thought welling up in our souls. The pleasing change in his mental emotions was apparent to us all. It was evident that he was the subject of great spiritual relief; that be was in the possession of a degree of peace with God through Christ hitherto unfelt; that long concealed thoughts, and long pent-up feelings, now were free — his heart thrown open to the inspection and communion of those in whose deep love iEtnd sympathy he felt the sweetest repose. The holy light gleaming on his countenance — the tremnlons tone of voice — the moistened eye — the unfettered openness of his manner, all expressed the advent of the new-bom joy which now occupied and thrilled his whole soul. How appropriate and expressive of his present feelings the praiseful language of David —” Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing; thou hast put off my sackdoth and girded me with gladness; to the end thai my glory (tongue) my sing praise to thee, and not be sHent,*^
Let us pause in our narrative for a moment, and bestow a passing reflection upon the new existence here portrayed — the blessed condition of a soul emerging from its tbraldom into the full liberty of Christ, the last lingering fetter dissolved, and soaring on gladsome pinion to a height of holy joy, communion and hope — read o heard of, and sighed for, but never experienced until now! How many individuals are there in Whitmore’s long undecided state, who from the lonesome vale of unbelief and gloom are gazing upward with intense longing to those sublime, sunlight heights of heavenly joy and hope — the ‘* delectable mountains” of the Christian’s pilgrimage — upon which he now stood; but who, from day to day, still drag the weary chain that binds them to the region of darkness, doubt, and indecision. Dear reader, what a loser are yau! Your indecision for God robs you of peace, joy, and liberty — the liberty of one accepted in the Beloved. Oh, could you see how much there is that pleads for your decision of heart and life for Christ! Oh, could you but feel the persuasive, irresistible force of a Saviour’s atoning blood, of a Father’s reconciled love, of the Spirit’s quickening grace, all inviting, winning, wooing you to rest in Jesus, your present and eternal repose, then would your exulting language be, “J% heart is fixed Oody my heart is fixed; IwUl svng and give praise! “Every consideration, tender, solemn and persuasive, demands your decision for God. No longer halt, hesitate, and demur. Quit a delusive world, relinquish a doubtful faith, abandon a spurious hope, and in all your emptiness, insufficiency, and unworthiness, as a penitent, humble, believing sinner, declare yourself to be the Lord’s, and own the Lord to be your’s for ever. Oh, blessed espousals! — Christ and you mystically, indissolubly, eternally one. Oh that the words once uttered from the pulpit, with the quickening energy of the Holy Ghost, may now, with a like irresistible power, speak from the press: —” How long halt ye between two opiri’ ions? if the Lord he Oody follow Himy
On the first Lord’s- day morning in the year, January 4, 1852, Whitmore Winslow made a public and solemn profession of his faith in Christ by baptism, and in the evening partook, for the first time, of the memorials of his Saviour’s love. The occasion was morally sublime. Here was a youth of sixteen, acknowledging, before men and angels, Jesus Christ as his Lord and Master, and by submission to a Christian rite as deeply significant in its moaning as it was touchingly impressive in its spectacle, avowing his renunciation of the world, his death unto sin, and his life unto righteousness. There was something, yea, there was much, to overcome in his position. The * offence of the cross ’ — the * shame of Christ ’ — the opinion of the world — the shrinking of an acutely sensitive nature, were all merged in the commanding conviction of duty, the irresistible force of truth, and the constraining love of Christ. Standing by the Baptistery, he united with the congregation, subdued to tears, in singing the following hymn, expressive of the hallowed sentiments and feelings of the solemn occasion: —” Arotmd Thy grave. Lord Jeans,
Thine empty grave we stand;
With hearts all ftill of praises.
To keep Thy blest command.
By fiiith our souls r’oidng
To trace Thy path of love.
Through death’s dark angry billows.
TTp to the throne abova
“Lord Jesns, we remember
The travail of Thy soul.
When in Thy love’s deep pity.
The waves did o’er Thee roll.
Baptized in death’s cold waters.
For ns Thy blood was shed;
For ns the Lord of Glory
Was nnmber’d with the dead.
“O Lord, Thon now art risen.
Thy travail all is o’er;
For sin Thon once hast snfiEbr’d
Thon liv’st to die no more — Bin, death, and hell are vanqnish’d
By Thee Thy church’s Head;
And lo! we share Thy triumph,
Thon First Bom firom the dead.
“Into Thy death baptized
We own with Thee wo died.
With Thee our life is risen.
And in Thee glorified;
From sin, the world, and Satan,
We’re ransom’d by Thy blood;
And now would walk as strangers.
Alive with Thee to God.”
With beautiful simplicity lie thus notes
memorable event: —
Sunday, January 4th, 1852. — To-day I have been baptized by my beloved papa. Oh, what an honour! thereby not only avowing my allegiance to Christ, but His unspeakable love to me. In the evening I received the Lord’s Supper — another precious privilege — which, indeed, I felt sweet and solemn. Much was I affected when dear papa, in giving me the right hand of fellowship, said, that ‘When he was laid in the grave, he trusted that I would be a faithful minister of that Grospel which it was his privilege to preach.’ Grod grant that his precious life may be spared to see it! When I reflect upon what I have gone through, I am almost astounded. When I think of the many expectations I have had of owning Christ when I should arrive at a more matured period of life, and then reflect how the Lord has brought me to decide for Him in my youth, so soon answering my prayers which I had thought would not be answered until I had arrived at manhood, I am ready to fall down in wonderment. Oh, let this teach me that ‘Gods ways are not cls my ways, neither His thoughts as my thoughts,^
“How little did I think when I entered that chapel on that Sabbath evening that I should be brought into the state of mind which I felt when I retired from it. My thoughts and expectations ‘were just then in so different a direction. I was studying for an examination in which I had great hopes of gaining a scholarship. And, besides this, I was writing a poem, which I thought would be successful, and for which success I had prayed to the Lord. But God be praised that His will was done and not mine, and that He withheld an inferior to give me a superior blessing.’’
Caught up to the third heaven — visions of glory bursting upon his view — it was necessary that when returned again to earth Paul should pass through a humiliating process. And hii I should be exalted above measure through the abundance of the revelation, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh.*’ A yet more illustrious example is recorded. We read that immediately after His baptism Jesus was led up of the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil.’* A like discipline, designed to chasten Whitmore*s joy and keep him low, was a more keen insight into the evil of his own heart, and a deeper conviction of the fluctuating nature of Christiaa feeling. His power of analysing the varied mental emotions of the believing mind is remarkable in one so young. The reaction consequent upon the relief which his long suppressed feelings now experienced is thus vividly described: —
January 7th. — Alas, alas! how cold we are! How insensible to the greatest mercies, perpetually reminded that we are not only mortal, but sinfuL When I reflect upon the spiritual blessings which I have received, and feel how insensible I am, oh it is a cause of mourning. I think nothing is so ungracious as a thankless spirit, and yet how often do we manifest it when God has been so good! We take care not to be ungrateful to an iarthly friend for the slightest benefit, and yet how careless in thanking Grod! Why have I not praised Bun. more for enabling me to confess Christ before men n the way I have done? Alas! our noblest actions ure so mixed with self. Such is the real fact, I need lot disguise it. This it is that chills our warmest eelings, and mars our happiness in looking to Jesus. [ must say, I have not enjoyed Christ so much as I have lone when alone, shut out from all gaze, no one knowng that I was a Christian, when alone with Jesus. Then was I happy — self and sin and the world vanished. 3 the demon selfl it will ever come in to spoil that nrhich is holy. How often has my conscience told me iJiat I ought to confess Christ, and how acutely have I sondemned myself for not doing so! But now my decision has made me feel so comfortable, and having nothing to annoy me, consequently I have gone less to Jesus. This was not the fault of my decision, but of myself; and when I have had every reason to be praising God for bringing my mind to a decision, I have been thinking scarcely of anything but self. I have, indeed, been grateful to the Lord; but then I feel how small have been my thanks compared with the largeness of the blessing. This evening I heard a beautiful sermon from dear papa, from Deut. iL 7: ‘He knoweth thy walking throtigh this great wildemess,“* I felt it BO applicable. How has Grod led me, not forty years, but still many years! How has he been the Protector and Guide of my youth! And how has He brought me to what I am! When I thought of all this I did lift up my heart in gratitude — what He has done for me is overwhelming.”
Again he would appear to h&ve had his little school trials, springing now from a want d sympathy with his religions profession. Happy indeed for that boy whose school life glides smoothly on undisturbed by any other feeling than that which prejudice, produced by religious principle, creates! It was said by the enemies of the youthful Daniel, “We shall not find any occasion against this Da/aiel exc&pt we find it against him concerning the law of his Ood” Whitmore’s deportment at school was regulated by a strict obedience to parental injunctions given on his first entrance, viz. — to admit to intimacy but few of his associates, and to select those few from among the most rigidly moral in their principles, and gentlemanly in their conduct — to keep aloof from all acts of insubordination — to recognise and uphold the authority of the Principal — to maintain self-respect — to do nothing covertly or openly that would produce a sense of shame — to stand by and say that which was right, even though he should stand alone — that if others enticed to consent not, and that if they ridiculed, to bear their ridicule manfully — fco cultivate towards all, especially those who might differ in ecclesiastical views or display unfriendly feeling, the spirit of tolerance, meekoess, and love - — to remember that God was the Enspector of private and public conduct — to walk tn His fear, and to be constantly looking up kp Iffinn in prayer. He lived — as will be seen in the following extract — to trample out every 3park of religious prejudice, and to win the kindly feeling of all his compeers.
*’ 5th, — Sweet it is not only to believe, but also to experience that as much affliction as God is pleased to give so much of His divine blessing He invariably bestows with it He causes us to feel His rod that His blessing may be experienced the more. He makes us to taste the bitter only to prepare us for the sweet. And when He finds that prosperity weans us from Him and assimilates to the world, He chastens us. Oh, how sweet to be resigned to His will, feeling assured that He does all things for our best welfare; that when He aflOicts, it is only out of kindness; and that when He accomplishes the end. He returns to us laden with blessing. Sweetly have I experienced this lately. At school He has remarkably stood by me. The prejudice against my religion has worn away, and those who were my bitter enemies are now my best friends. He has blest me in numerous other ways also. I trust He has given me a grateful heart. I have experienced that when we thanklessly receive a blessing at Grod’s hand. He takes it away.”
It was during a short but severe illness at school that his grandmother, while on a visit to her family in town, addressed to piiTin the following valnable Christian connsels: —
“39, TJ^pper Bedford-place Bussell-square.
“Darling Whitmore, — How grandmamma feels for I you, and how constantly she prays for you I Jesus is trying your young faith in this painful sickness. He
wants you to look more to Him and less to Mr., j
or to papa or mamma, for relief. All power is in Bjb
dear hands, who loves you better than you can possibly
love yourself. Do you believe this? It is really sa
Now lift up your heart to Him; though you cannot
speak, He knows all that is passing in your dear hearty
and ask Him to relieve your pain, and if it is His
blessed will, to restore your health, and make you a
blessing to your dear and anxious parents. He says to
you, * Ask and ye shall receive:* ‘If ye ask anything
in My name I will do iV This I have written to you
before, but it cannot be urged upon you too often, for
there are immense blessings connected with that one
promise. There is another promise He has given you
to plead before Him: * Call upon me in the day of
trouble and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify
me.’ Now, precious child, is it not a day of trouble to
you? Then, call upon the Lord, and tell Him so, and
He will reveal Himself to you, and relieve you too. Oh,
if you knew what a loving tender heart Jesus has!
His name is love. He loves to hear you praying to
Him. He loves importunate prayer. Go again and
again. You will never weary Him. And now I pray that He mit bless this to you, my precious dear boy, for you are very dear to your affectionate grandmamma,
“Mary Winslow.”
“... I feel far from well, and have suffered much the last few days, of painful weakness. All the* family have been most attentive and tender in my niness. I have much cause for gratitude to Him who has all hearts in His hand to turn them whithersoever He likes. All our mercies flow from Him who has loved us with on everlasting love, and with loving-kindness has drawn us to Himself. Do not be satisfied with present attainments, but press onwards and upwards for greater communications of grace, faith, and love from Himself. Oh, ask mtich! Learn early in your eventful pilgrimage to live out of yourself upon Jesus. Do not live upon past favour or past experience; but upon present, fresh, soul-invigorating intercourse with Jesus, who is * bone of your bone, and flesh of your flesh.’ AU is in Christ. All your concerns are His concerns too ^-do not forget that. Nothing is too small to take to Him. Have you ever, when your lesson seemed too hard for you, lifted up your heart to Jesus to help you? Oh, live to Him, upon Him, and with Him I This simple life of confidence in Jesus He prizes above all things.
Your affectionate grandmamma,
“Mary Winslow.”
During the midsummer school- vacation of 1852^ he accompanied a few members of his family to the Continent, with the intention of extending E
the tonr into Switzerland; but the illness of one of the party limited the journey to Paris. It was his first visit to the metropolis of France, and with his eager thirst for intelligence, and his fine appreciation of objects of historical interest and taste, there would be much to attract and engage his attention. One or two of his notes are subjoined, as indicating his thoughts and feelings on this occasion: —
“Paris, Hdtel de Castiglione, July 20th, 1852. “Dearest Mamma, — I thought that, as all were writing, one or another every day, and as the ezpense of a letter from here is something, I would reserve my version until a later period. But I have not foigotten you, and have you often in my minds eye, arid have fancied what you were all doing, and how you enjoyed the quiet, now that we were all away, or whether yon felt lonely. But I have thought of you more in connexion with poor Mrs. W, and wondered why we
have had no particulars of her death; but the letter may have miscarried. I had a presentiment when I parted from you at the Leamington Station that I should never see her again, and the only thing I could do was to pray for her, which I did as we rode along, and which I had often done before. Poor thing! I have cause to remember her, and should have loved to have heard the sweet music of her dying exclamation, * Jesus is with me.’ It rings in my ears when I am alone. This was all that you wrote about her, but it was sufficient to convince ns that she is in heaven. But I should like, when yon have time, to know all the particulars. Her poor infant, too, has followed its mother.
.... “Paris is, indeed, a hcautiful city, and the air so delightful! How I should like you to see it! but I do not think you would enjoy it, for you are so fond of being quiet, and this you would find almost impossifole here. Although it is very warm wo arc constantly on the move, seeing all that is to be seen, and making the most of our time; so that we shall have plenty to tell you on our return home. H. and S. arc keeping a journal, but this does not suit me. I rcHcrvo myself for observation upon the most striking things. I want play for thought, and feeling, and imagination, and this you can only have by taking each subject separately, and a detailed account of everything would be impossible.”
“Paris, ffdtel de Castiglione, July 2Qth.
*’ Dearest Mamma. — We are at present very busy preparing to leave Paris to-morrow morning at eight o’clock, meet the boat at Calais at half -past three, arriving at Dover at five o’clock, where I shall spend the week that intervenes before the college re-opens. It seems an age since we left, but I suppose it is because we have seen so much — the history of ages past has been brought before us, exhibiting its glories, its follies, and its remains — whilst the history of the present, no less remarkable and curious, has been presented to us in ite embryo state, leaving the future dark and mysterious. Bat still we leave in Paris alone (not to speak of its environs) much that we ought to have seen, and should have seen, but for papa’s illness. But it is all right, and we are only extremely thankful that he has got better so soon. In fact, I think he will be in much better health after this illness than before; for besides relieving him from the sad effects of past exertions of the brain (which have really brought on his illness), it will make him cautious for the future.
“Your affectionate Son,
“J. Whitmobb Winslow.”
From his jonmal: —
“Leamington, September T^th, 1853. — It has been well observed that, while we study books, we should not neglect to study men. And I think the truth of this remark lies in the fact that, while from books we especially attain knowledge — by intercourse with, and contemplation of, our fellow-men, we more particularly gain experience. The social condition of man is a law fA nature, while it presents very singular phenomena. But, perhaps, the most natural and pleasant characteristic of our species is friendship; and we learn by observation how extremely it differs from the mere social feeling, while at the same time we see connected with it also various and different features. I cannot examine them all at present, nor shall, perhaps, ever be able to do so in the future, but can only mention one, which, though I have seen it before, I have never experienced imtil to-day. It is, that true friendship can scarcely exist but between two; a third party is sure to mar it. Where there is not an equal ground, friendship is almost impossible, and an equality of mind and sentiment and condition between three is a rare thing in this divorsified and confused scene around us.”
“October h. — What a blessed thing it is that wo are not to live here always, that our existence is not bounded by this lower sphere! Holy Father, may our hearts, while aching, praise Thee that Thy chastenings but wean us from this sinful and disappointing world, and fill our minds with holy joy, and longing hope for the blessed heaven to come. Oh, may Thy love more completely fill these truant hearts! May thy sacred relationship of ‘Father’ dry the starting tear, when an earthly parent may chide the failings which Thy love forgives. May Thy ceaseless affection, changeless ever, when we wander, link our souls in closer union with Thee. Oh, my precious Saviour, may that look of pity and love, which beamed so gloriously from Calvary, light upon Thy weak and sinful child! And when justice or injustice frown upon us, may we find in Thy loving bosom a shelter from the storm. And though the world, or those we love, cease to sympathise, precious Saviour, Thou wilt never look coldly down, but wilt open Thy heart to love and to receive us.”
What true child of God does not pant for the deep sanctification which breathes in the next quotation? Such matured holiness does not often blossom upon a branch 90 young and tender. But God was early fitting him for the perfect puriliy that was so soon to crown his translated spirit.
His, indeed, was the silence of holiness; but, perhaps, all the more expressive and powerM.
“As truly as the sinner feels himself unfit for heaven and for heavenly society on earth, so truly does the child of Goil feel sad and unhappy when in the society of the wicked. How low and humbled do we feel when accidentally or necessarily obliged to listen to unholy conversation, or to witness some open act of sin. Alas! next to our own sinfulness we ought to deplore the wickedness of those we are constantly coming in contact with. All we can do is to observe a marked silence, and show by our conduct and example how painful it is to our spirits, though we would desire openly to rebuke. Words, however, arc sometimes less significant than conduct, and I have often found how powerful is the effect of silent example. But we need much wisdom and much grace both to speak and to act as we ought and when wo ought, though, alas! in both we are sadly deficient, and often by conniving at sin, directly or indirectly, in others, we are the cause of sin to them, and the occasion of a guilty conscience to ourselves. But, blessed thought, that with all our deficienccs, the righteousness of Christ is our complete covering, and by its merit we shall soon reach the realms of purity where sin can never enter.”
‘* To his Coicsin.
My dear Henry, — Papa says you were very near coming down with him yesterday, but for some appointment. I write to say that we shall be happy to see yon, and think you should take a week’s holiday; we can then have some nice walks and a little boatinjy on the Avon. I have not been able to do much work since my return from Paris, but have been dipping into some delightful books in mother-tongue found in papa’s library, and which were quite refreshing after such a constant poring over Latin and Greek. Leamington looks delightful; I always think when I return to it that I have nowhere seen a prettier place; the only drawback is that the air is less bracing than I should like. How did you find them all in town? and what are your movements? I had a note from Dr. Carson yesterday. Papa came home full of Oxford and the admission of Nonconformists; but he has sobered down to old Trinity; there is no knowing what turn events may take. We had a delightful sermon last evening from Psalm cvii. 7: * Atid he led them forth by a right way, that they might go to a city of habitation I suppose you will attend Mr. Jarman’s ministry. Write whether you will come, and give my love to Stephen.
Your affectionate cousin,
“Whitmore.”
“Sunday, June I9th, 1853. — My last Sunday, probably, at the Leamington College. Those only who know my past history there can understand the emotions which I feel upon quitting it, to enter upon the wide field of the world. And yet how inadequate those emotions, compared with the events that have transpired to call them forth. A momentary glimpse of the past — one view of the important present — and a bewildering glance into the future, and yet how cold and dull! Oil Father, preserve me from the deadening influence of all within and without; and grant me an eye to see, and a heart to feel, all thy tenderness, forbearance, and love. When I think of the place where a great part of my youth has been passed — the varied scenes I have witnessed — the events in which I have had my share, and my closing career, I tremble with wonder, and would fain hide my head from the contemplation of the sins committed. Yes, how little others know us, and how little we know ourselves. And yet I think I can say, with all conviction of its truth, that God has given me the knowledge of myself, though not to the fullest extent.”
20th, — Macaulay, in his essay upon Lord Bacon, has this remark: — ‘Bacon far behind his age! Bacon far behind Sir Edward Coke! Bacon clinging to exploded abuses! Bacon withstanding the progress of improvement! Bacon struggling to hurl back the human mind!’ These words seem strange. They seem like a contradiction in terms; yet the fact is even so, and the explanation may be readily found by any person who is not blinded by prejudice. Mr. Montague cannot believe that so extraordinary a man as Bacon could be guilty of a bad action; as if history were not made up of bad actions of extraordinary men; as if all the most noted destroyers and deceivers of our species, all the founders of arbitrary governments and false religions, had not been extraordinary men; as if nine-tenths of the calamities which have befallen the human race had any other origin than the union of high intelligence with hase deeds. Now is this an extraordinary fact that the world owes nine-tenths of its calamities to extraordinary men? Is it not a solemn verity? Does it not argue the wisdom of Satan thus to employ the noblest intellect in his service, and the folly of man thus to prostrate his power at the feet of such a master? Alas, alas! a great mind is to often the index of a lost soul! Strange fact that man seems to understand everything but himself and his destiny.”
Here we are in the middle of the nineteenth century — will the world ever see the twentieth? If so, and if they go on at their present rapid rate, future generations will scarcely own affinity with us, and we should hardly dare claim connexion with them. But the probability is, that the next century will dawn upon the world in a far different condition than that which we at present imagine. The condition to which it will then have arrived will be the commencement of a new era. We know not the day when this great revolution is to take place; but we are led to think that it is not far distant. The Bible foretells it and the events that will precede it; and these events seem coming upon us with astonishing rapidity, and with a fearful confirmation of the truth of revelation. Knowledge walks the earth — history literally flies from one place to a hundred others in almost a moment of time. Continent is linked with continent — time and distance are obliterated — the winds and waves, and all the elements of nature, seem to bend to the power of man. Society, too, seems on the eve of some great moral and physical revolution.
Already are heard the rumblings of the earthquake.. Satan has been very busy in the world from the fall to the present moment; and we have reason to believe that he is now accumulating his energies for the last struggle. Wars and rumours of war are abroad on the earth. Popery is making bold endeavours to regain its footing. Christianity is spreading in every heathen land; and ever’thing, in fact, in the present aspect of the world, speaks some great coming event. Watch and pray, for in an hour ye know not the Son of man will come.”
LIFE.
Amidst all the characters given by poets and philosophers to Life, perhaps the least regarded is the imagination. Life in its loveliest forms consists in a great measure in the imagination. Thus thought loves to dwell upon scenes of future or fancied happiness, grouping into the most felicitous shapes all one’s future career. Thus it grasps an airy bubble floating by in momentary splendour, and builds upon it a destiny of the highest and most substantial happiness. How one’s youthful imagination seems to bear us on blind to the misery and woe all around us — blind to the stem and sometimes sickening realities of existence,, and alive only to the beautiful and happy, the gay and glorious. How imagination — that wonderful power of the soul — can magnify a transient beam of sunshine into an ever-abiding and increasing stream of effulgent radiancy! How a look from the eye, a smile of the countenance, a trifling act of love, can kindle a flame in the soul, which our fond imagination would persuade us ilieve is enduring, giving power and warmth! How
dening are feelings of youth! how keen its susceptiles to the beautiful! But alas, alas! how Life in its
ard progress alters this beautiful picture! How
. do the dark shades pencilled by the experience of
and sorrow cast their chilling influences upon the
as once so gaily tinted! How soon the keen
b of adversity sweeps away, as with a whirlwind, all
before seemed so beautiful and promising! How
the slow but fearfully sure disease cuts down the
ling flower! Tea, how strange a mystery is Life!
yet —
’ lAfb is tmJ, life is earnest I
And the gntre is not its goal
Dnst thoa art, to dust retnrnest.
Was not apoken of the sool.
‘Not enjoyment and not sorrow
Is oar destined end or way;
Bat to act, that each to-morrow
Finds OS flurther than to«day.’
when once the eye has been turned in the right on, and the mists and phantoms have disappeared, hall see that life is the theatre of action — the day 3velation, and the prelude to eternity — an eternity se untold wonders are beyond the highest flight le imagination.”
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