Letters of Frances Ridley Havergal

1 SUCH as we are in word by letters when we are absent, such will we be also in deed when we are present’ (2 Cor. x. n). So, only those who saw St. Paul could verify his touchstone of deeds not words. And so with the beloved sister, whose letters are now unveiled j only those who saw her, could rightly estimate how truly her deeds of loving faithful labour for her Master were as golden seals to her words. Even these letters do not fully reveal all the wonderful submission of her home-life, or how the hand that takes the crown, may first be pierced with many a thorn.

It should be borne in mind that these letters were written chiefly to near and dear relatives and friends, who she knew would sympathize in the details of her service for the King.

Especial thanks are due to our eldest sister, J. Miriam Crane, for her valuable help in suggesting and revising.

Much gratitude is felt to those correspondents who now share their treasures with the ever-widening circle of F. R. H.’s readers. Attention has been given to their wishes in printing initials or names.

Her letters from Switzerland are not included, being already printed in Swiss Letters.

Frequent reference will be found to F. R. H.’s laborious editing of Havergal’s Psalmody, containing her own and her father’s tunes, which are now combined in one volume with the Rev. C. B. Snepp’s selection of hymns, viz. The New Musical Edition of Songs of Grace and Glory (Nisbet & Co).

May these * Letters ’ cheer and guide some —

‘Footsteps weak and weaiy
Through the desert dreary
Through the valley of the night.’

Again her words may be quoted —

‘Ye read her story,

Take home the lesson with a spirit smile:
Darkness and mystery a little while,
Then — light and glory,
And ministry mid saint and seraph hand
And service of high praise in the Eternal Land.’

This closing record of the loved and loving one is laid at her Master’s glorious feet, praying that interwoven with her life-story, His praise and glory may shine forth.

MARIA V. G. HAVERGAL.

August 1885.

(ToE. C.)

LLANDUDNO, July 23, 1852.

How 1 wish you and W. H. could join us in our North Wales expeditions! There are copper mines in the Orme’s Head, and as I had an intense desire to find myself half a mile from daylight, no one had any peace till my object of entering them was gained. One evening when the miners had left, Ellen, Frank, and I packed into a little truck and were pushed half a mile, till we could only see daylight as a tiny star, the tunnel being as straight as an arrow. The extreme darkness and perfect silence and the chilly air were so different from what we had left, and seemed very curious. Then we got out of our truck and followed our guide through the mine — through such curious caverns, some full of crystals and copper ore. We have plenty of walks, and great variety, but I prefer exploring alone. Oh, the breakneck places and precipices I get among. I am almost too venturesome, but my foot has never once slipped. Then, too, in such wild places I am quite alone, and I

A take out my little Testament and read and pray, where no human being besides myself is ever likely to be. Last week I could not do this, for I was very poorly from over-bathing, and now I must not bathe; it is very annoying, for I like swimming, and enjoy riding on the crested waves of the sea as much as on that wicked little pony. Frank went from home to Oakhampton last week to stand godfather to my new little niece ‘Evelyn Emily.’

Now I will tell you what a capital book I am reading, Hobart Seymour’s Mornings with the Jesuits at Rome. The style of the book is most delightful j sit down to it, and you can hardly get up again. I am so fond of controversial works. When does go back to school?

That will be the time of trial for him; if he can stand firm on the Rock while there; if he can resist the many waves of temptation which will beat upon him there, then you may be sure all is right with him. It is more difficult to be prayerful at school than anywhere. When I went to Powick last year, I began prayerfully and carefully; but gradually, very gradually, I loosed my hold upon the Saviour, and on looking back at the end of the year, more was lost than gained. Oh, dear E., every one seems to get before me. I think I have found out my besetting sin; surely it is pride. The desire of surpassing others in everything, unwillingness to seem behind — all is pride. I never can be content to be last. But this mountain of pride must be made low before the Lord can enter my heart. I have learnt to read and speak Welsh quite easily. Some of the words are puzzling, because the initial letters are altered instead of the terminals, e.g. bara, mara, and fara all mean bread, but for euphony are used interchangeably in different parts of a sentence. We have excellent fun in bathing and swimming; I quite alarm our old bathing woman. Our landlady Mrs. G. is so nice and ladylike. I am sure she must be good, from many little things, and the gentle expression of her countenance. Many beautiful pieces of furniture show what she used to have.

Now I will tell you where I am enthroned. Not among green fields, or even where towering mountains rise, but by the wild sea waves; and while I am writing this, they are flowing in with softest, sweetest music, not like the deafening roar they dashed in with a few days ago. I wonder whether we shall ever be together where ancient ocean rolls his swelling tide. What a pity there are no fairy slippers which would transport you here with a wish. How bright everything is with you. I fear I shall never have such joy. Still I do not give up seeking, but there seem so many things in the way. I have been thinking a great deal about my confirmation, though it will not be yet for two years; it seems such a solemn vow which you then take upon yourself. Oh, shall I have strength to keep it? it is one of my most constant prayers, that if I am spared to be confirmed, I may never act as if I had not been so. I should so like to be confirmed with you. I have not time for much in the studying line here, and only write a lesson in Ollendorf every day, and have begun learning the Revelation, and am now in the third chapter.

(To E. C.)

TENBY, 1854.

Our lodgings look out upon the sea, and just opposite is a picturesque rocky island called St. Catherine’s, with the ruins of a church on the top. There are most delectable caverns in it, quite practicable at low tide, with many lovely sea things, animal and vegetable. I have met an old Powick schoolfellow of mine here, — a very nice girl, — and we are a good deal together. She has her own horse here, — a perfect beauty, — and her father has very kindly left another, — a pretty creature (cream colour), — for my especial benefit, so we ride all over the country ad libitum together. The church is very large, but the pews are execrably uncomfortable. Last Sunday we had a first-rate sermon from the Bishop of Llandaff, not cram full of long words and Greek and Latin, but just what every one there could understand; it was altogether beautiful. Plainly, simply, and fully he preached the gospel, the whole gospel, and nothing but the gospel, and his manner was captivating — so impressive and earnest; altogether I have rarely been so pleased.

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