London, July 18, 1795

DEAR SIR,

IN future, if you please, you may direct to me, as formerly, under cover to **#*, M. P. I thank you for the only news I have had of my sister since she left Yorkshire. I hope she still has the use of her right hand, and will soon give me a proof of it. I love her dearly, and shall be glad to hear from her or my brother.

Lord and Lady returned some weeks since to ****. I have inquired, but can find no friend who has any acquaintance with Lord ****’s family. But if the Lord has engaged the hearts of the young ladies you speak of, he will provide all that is necessary to bring them forward in his own good time. His work is perfect. All hearts and means are in his hands, and where he begins he will surely make an end.

I know, comparatively, but few of my hearers. It is probable I had no knowledge of the gentleman you mention who died lately; but I hope I shall know him hereafter. Nor can I well tell to what parish the Minories, or the back of the Minories, belongs. But I am glad if there is a minister in it who speaks of seeking the Lord; for the phrase is rather unfashionable in these parts; few, excepting those called the Methodist clergy, make use of it.

I like to keep you in my debt, though not having any long letter from you to answer, I am at a loss for a particular subject. But a general subject is always at hand, were my heart always in tune to manage it. Should not a believer be ashamed to own that he can find nothing to say, or write about? Perhaps not. For if he is indeed poor, and unable of himself to think a good thought, why should he be ashamed to confess his weakness and poverty? I may well be ashamed of my depravity, that I am such a helpless, worthless creature; but if it be so, to deny or attempt to palliate the case, would expose me to farther shame for my pride and hypocrisy. I sometimes compare myself to a mill, which differs from a common house, iti having a mechanical apparatus, capable of producing motion, but without wind or water, the wheels are all useless, and the mill can neither grind nor move. Thus my knowledge of divine things, such as it is, is often dormant; and though I do not forget what I read of the person and love of the Saviour, of the beauty of holiness, and the joys of heaven, I cannot speak and write of them just when I please, or as I please; but only as I am assisted by an influence, which is no more at my command than the rain or the sunshine. When a large heavy-laden ship is dry Opon the shore, a thousand teams of horses could not stir her an inch: but when the tide returns and raises her from the ground, one man with a rope can move her. Thus it is with me; what is impracticable at one time is easy at another. I am a dependent creature. When the Lord is with me, I can do something; if he withdraws I can do nothing. Yet I am no better in myself when I can do most, nor, strictly speaking, am I worse when I can do least. For it is at all times equally true, that I have nothing properly my own. The eye can see if it has light: but it lias no light in itself. The seeing and the blind are much upon a par in the dark; only the man who can see is qualified to perceive and welcome the light when it returns.

Could I always depend upon this divine influence, in a steadfast use of the means by which he has promised to communicate it, without any mixture of self-dependence, I believe I should go on better: but my rashness renders many mortifying lessons, in the school of experience, quite necessary. When shall I learn to be like a little child, who, sensible of his weakness, is afraid to cross the street without leading, and while he is led has no fear at all; and who, not pretending to be wise, believes with implicit confidence what he is told by his affectionate parents!

I shall be glad to see Dr. Erskine’s Address. We may pray in faith for the spread of the gospel, and the enlargement of our Lord’s kingdom; for we may be sure this is the great design he lias in view, and for which the wheels of time and nature are kept in motion. This is the grand mark, to which the rise and fall of empires, and the commotions of the present day, have a direct tendency, though the way of the Lord is so in the sea, that we short-sighted creatures cannot trace the connexion of events, and the dependence of one upon another. But his word warrants us to believe what we cannot clearly see. They say the times are very dark: they seem so to us; clouds and darkness are about his throne, but light will in due time shine out. He is carrying on his work by a straight line. If you or* I were engaged in a plan which we had much at heart, we would not suffer any thing to hinder our purpose, if we could prevent it: much less will he, who has all power in heaven and on earth. Even the wrath of his enemies shall praise him: they are permitted to do nothing but what shall be found subservient to his design. Not only was Cyrus his servant, but Pharaoh and Senacherib likewise: they sought their own will and glory, but promoted his.

We may leave all in his hands safely: yet there is a part for us to act. We ought to be affected by what we see and hear — to mourn for our own sins, and for the sins of others, and for the miseries with which sin has filled the world. We should be jealous for the Lord of hosts, and compassionate to the souls of men. Now his hand is so visibly and awfully lifted up, it becomes us to see it, acknowledge it, and humble ourselves under it, whether others will or not. The Lord has a controversy with this nation, he is pleading his own cause against the prevailing spirit of infidelity, and the abominations that abound, and he will make sinful worms know that he is the Lord, and that in all they speak proudly, he is above them. Perhaps the steps he sees fit to take, may touch his own people in their temporal concerns, but his glory ought to be the dearest objects of their souls. It is better we should suffer a little, and for a little while, than that his enemies should triumph. The love of self and of the present world, make us terribly afraid when any thing seems to threaten our ease and prosperity: but what are these when compared with the glory of our Lord and the welfare of precious souls. The times are dark; but perhaps they were darker in England sixty years ago, when, though we had peace and plenty, the bulk of the kingdom lay under the judgment of an unregenerate ministry, and the people were perishing for lack of knowledge. In this respect, the times are better than they were. The gospel is preached in many parts; we have it plentifully in London; and many of our great towns, which were once sitting in darkness, have now the true light. Some of those places were as a wilderness in my remembrance, and now they are zs gardens of the Lord. And every year the gospel is planted in new places — ministers are still raising up — the work is still spreading. I am not sure that in the year 1T40, there was a single parochial minister, who was publicly known as a gospel preacher, in the whole kingdom: now we have, I know not how many, but I think not fewer than four hundred. Let us, my friend, settle it as a maxim, that it is the best time with any nation when the best cause flourishes most: for as the life is more than meat, so the soul is more than the body. If one half of the kingdom was ravaged by war, provided the distress was sanctified to stir up many careless ones to seek the Lord and his salvation — such a dispensation would be more a mercy than a judgment.

It is Saturday evening, when I usually have a few select friends, chiefly ministers, to drink tta with me. Something that passes at these meetings often suggests subject matter for the Lord’s day. My company is gone, and I have a little time left to finish my letter.

I believe the Lord’s old and faithful servant, Mr. Romaine, is going home. He is nearly 82 years of age; has been 58 years in the ministry; and was never laid by a single sabbath till very lately. I have known him as a preacher of the gospel since about the year 1 750, and I believe he began sooner. He has been an honourable and useful man, a burning and a shining light — inflexible as an iron pillar in publishing the truth, and unmoved either by the smiles or the frowns of the world. He is the most popular man we have had since Mr. Whitfield; and few now living will be more missed. I believe some of his friends would wish to keep him here another fourscore years if they could: but when he goes, as he could not be expected to preach if he lived, I shall not be sorry that he has entered into his Master’s joy. My turn will probably be next, for I shall be seventy the 4th August. Pray for me, that I may be found ready when the summons shall come. I will try to pray for you, that the Lord may bless you more and more, and make you a blessing in all your connexions. I am

Your affectionate friend,

OMICRON.