Memoir, 1808–1809
Remarks of Mr. Preston — Mr. Simeon’s treatment of his Curates — His Sunday erenings — Letter to Mr. Lloyd — Comfort in his Brother Edward — Thoughts on Prayer — Letters to Dr. and Mrs. Ringn the loss of Friends — The death of a fiiithfal Servant — And placing a Girl in senrice — Mr. Simeon’s continued Debility — Letter to his Par rishioners — Discontinues the Afternoon Service — Sanction for the Evening Service-Resolution of the Vestry — Extract from Fuller about the Lectureship — Mr. Thomason’s appointment to India — His Departure — Mr. Simeon accompanies him on hi* Voyage — Acuteoess of his feelings at parting — Mr. Thomason’s Shipwreck — Letter to Mr. Simeon — His characteristic Reply — Mr. Thomason’s Review of the Event — Remarks of Mr. Simeon — Clerical meetings at Shelford — Mr. Preston’s account of them — Mr. Simeon’s description to Dr. Ring.
1808 — 1809.
An important trait of Mr. Simeon’s character, noticed by Mr. Preston, was the delight with which he observed the spiritual progress and growing usefulness of other ministers, even when there might seem to be a temptation to the feeling of jealousy, as if another were rising to supersede himself. On such occasions he would say, with evident joy and sincerity, * he must increase; I must decrease.’ This truly Christian feeling was manifested in a striking, manner on his return to Cambridge from the Isle of Wight. During his residence there, and for some time before, his friend and curate Mr. Thomason, who had previously performed onlv a subordinate part in the ministrations at Trinity Church, had been called out to the vigorous exercise of all his powers in the work of the ministry. Through the grace of God he had been enabled to rise to the occasion. No one, who remembers his sermons at Cambridge during that year, when Mr. Simeon was for the most part disabled from duty, will be backward to acknowledge, that tiis improvement in the course of a few months was extraordinary. There was at that time a richness and fulness in Mr. T.’s discourses, such as was not always found in Mr. Simeon’s. This devoted servant of Christ, who loved his Lord with all his heart, and was thankful, for His sake, either * to be abased or to abound,’ was much struck and delighted, on his return, with what he saw and heard from his beloved colleague. After hearing him preach, he turned to a friend and said, ‘Now I see why I have been laid aside; I bless God for it.’
The generous and affectionate feeling which he habitually cherished, and on suitable occasions manifested, towards those who have successfully stood to him in the relation of curates, is
138 TRBATMENT OF HIB CUBATE8. [cHAr. X*
gratefully remembered by every one of them. Considering that the term curate — honorable as it is, and elsewhere attached to the office of the principal — is commonly regarded in this country as implying inferiority of rank, he was disposed to discard it. * Not my curate he would say, * my brother.^ * Now, my brotherf which part of the duty shall 1 take V The privilege formerly enjoyed by these gentlemen, of supping with him in private, after the conclusion of the evening service on the-Lord’s-day, has been spoken of by more than one of them, as peculiarly delightful and refreshing. So congenial were the duties of that holy day with the temper and taste of his renewed soul, that he generally appeared at the close of the day to be invigorated, rather than exhausted, by them. * I am an eight-day clock,’ said he; * now I am wound up for another week.’ His prayers on these occasions (for he always ‘closed with prayer) were, it may be presumed, some of the least reserved of his supplications addressed to the throne of grace. A dignitary of the Church, who was once present, remarked to the curate, in returning, how much he had been affected with the deep humiliation indicated by Mr. Simeon’s prayers, particularly with the confession (taken from Bishop Beveridge, but which appeared to be new to him), that our very tears need to be washed in the atoning blood of Christ.”
During the season of his retirement from public duties, Mr. Simeon was indefatigable in his attention to his beloved brother Edward. Little hope indeed remained of his recovery from the painful disorder under which he labored; but Mr. S. had the unspeakable consolation of observing a manifest improvement in his spiritual estate: — though his outward man seemed to be decaying, his inward man was evidently ‘renewed day by day.’ Mr. Simeon’s tenderness and earnestness on this and other matters of private and minor interest may be traced in the following letters, written at this period, to Mr. Lloyd, and his much-loved friends at Reading.
To the Rev. T. Lloyd : —
<<SalTBdor House, Jan. 9, 1808.
My very dear Friend and Brother, —
“I thank you a thousand times for the kind, and friendly solicitude you express respecting myself and my poor afflicted brother, in body he is certainly little if at all better, than when I had the pleasure of seeing you last: but I cannot say so in relation to his soul. Adored be our God, there is a daily and visible progress in his love to heavenly things. He no longer complains, as he always has done before, thai people of our description require too much, and thereby discotirage those whom we wish to benefit: on the contrary, he begins to have his own wishes conformed to those
of God: and desires rather to have his experience elevated to the requisitions of the Gospel, than to have those lowered to his attainments. He delights to have me read and pray with him: and when I attempt it, God is for the most part graciously present with us: he melts our hearts into contrition, and entwines them in the tenderest love.
1 feel no difficulty in believing that God will hear and answer prayer: on the contrary, I seem to think tht if God only give me an heart to pray, the work shall surely be done. I am aware of the difference between asking for ourselves and others, and consequently, between the kinds and degrees of confidence that should be entertained in relation to the promises themselves, and especially to our own application of them. And so far am I from approving of the construing of an inward persuasion of mine into an absolute promise of God, that I account it little less than blasphemy, but I know whence a spirit of prayer comes, and whence an humble boldness and confidence: ana I look on these as a kind of pledge and earnest of still greater blessings. Hence, if I have the pledge ^iven me by God, I entertain a joyful hope that I shall have the full accomplishment of my heart’s desire. This therefore is what I am longing after; I desire to be more humble, more earnest, more constant, more believing in prayer: and I feel, that if I can obtain this mercy from God, my dear brother shall be given me; if God were an unjust judge, instead of a loving Father, I should wrest the blessing from nim. Some sweet answer to prayer I have already had, if I may put that construction upon the manifestations of His presence with me in my poor endeavors.
**” I greatly regret indeed that 1 am able to do very little in the way of reading or conversation. If I attempt it a second time in the day, though I only whisper, it overcomes me. But, though from a prudent regard, to my public duties I abstain, I think that I would most gladly spend, and be spent for Him.
“It has afforded me most unfeigned joy to see you apparently so well. May God of his infinite mercy’strengthen you for his service, and make you yet a blessing to many, many souls I
To Mrs. Ring, Reading: —
“Salyador House, Jan. 28, 1808.
“My very dear Madam, —
It is indeed a vale of tears. Two letters I have this moment opened; the first informs me that my faithful and affectionate servant, (my man’s wife,) is dangerously ill: the next brings me tidings of your sister’s death. In the former case, self is blended with my sorrow: my loss, if she is taken from me, will be very great In the latter case, my sympathy and compassion are more pure. But I hardly dare to speak of sympathy or com-
140 DEATH OF HIS FAITHFUL SERVANT. [ORAF. Z.
passion: I know nothing that fills me with more shame, than the difficulty I find in entering into the wants and feelings of my fellow-creatures. Sometimes, if I am present with persons in trouble, obdurate as I am, I feel the truth of that Scripture, ‘The eye aflfects the heart.* In writing to a Christian in affliction, I always feel that I am unable to open to him any sources of consolation with which he is not familiar. What then shall I attempt to say to you, and to your dear husband, or even to the afflicted children, M^ho have such instructors close at hand? To you the thought oif her readiness to meet the Lord will afiford abundant consolation; but they, 1 fear, will find it only an aggravation of their sorrows, O that they might be led by their affliction to follow the faith and practice of their deceased parent !-^and that we may be quickened, by the sickness and mortality of others, to realize the thoughts of death and judgment! I have been long absent from my nock, and long to see them again; and I want much to see my poor afflicted servant. I qhould condemn myself exceedingly if she should depart, and I not see her. I have but just received your letter, (three o’clock): — my physician is here, and I must talk with him: dinner is just ready, and the member dines with us: — and therefore I must conclude, with most afifectionate regards to your dear husband, and any of your family that are wjth you. C. S.”
To T. Ring, Esq.
“King’s College, Jan. 30, 1808.
My dearest Brother,, —
“I have just suflTered a most afflictive stroke, the loss of u most faithful, diligent, and afifectionate servant, who has lived with me about ten years. The same letter, which told me how imminent her danger was, informed me I might have one week’s longer furlough: and I felt my mind much distracted between a desire to continue that week with you, and a sense of duty to her. As your disorder was not such as to require my continued attendance, or to excite any immediate danger, I thought my duty to her demanded my presence here, and now that she is gone, my soul is exceedingly rejoiced in having torn myself from you, to wait upon her. I found her sensible, out not by any means comfortable in her soul. Her fears preponderated, and darkened her mind: nor did anything, that I said to her, seem to inspire peace into her soul. Fearing the physician might not pay all the attention her situation required, I called upon him, and begged him to attend her twice or thrice a day, till the disorder should abate. He went and called a third time that day, but gave me no very
freat hopes of her recovery. This morning I was with her about alf-past seven, and it appeared that she was .about to be taken away from us. I conversed and prayed with her; but still all my inquiries, relative to her views of the Saviour and her afiiance
CmAT* X.] DBATH OF HIS FAITHFUL SERVANT. 141
in him, were attended with a shake of her head, intimating that she was not able to commit herself to him with confidence. I returned to my room to breakfast, and then went to her again as soon as I had taken my refreshment, but still I could get nothing but a shake of the head. This was exceedingly distressing to my soul; and I endeavored, with many tears, to set forth again to her the willingness and sufficiency of Christ. Upon this, with a distinct and audible voice, she cried, ‘Lord, save me;’ and I then again praved with her to that God, whom I have long known to be * a C3od that heareth prayer.’ And O! how gracious was God to his poor suppliants I I still continued talking with her, and on asking her again, whether God had answered our prayer; whether she was now able to trust in the Saviour, and to cast all the burdens of her soul on Him, she gave me a most significant and expressive nod. I then told her, if she felt peace in her soul, to squeeze my hand; and she squeezed it instantly. This was the signal for our thadcsgiving to God; and immediately with the utmost ardor of our souls, we praised and adored our God, who had heard prayer in her behalf, and had caused liht to arise in her darkness. In less than an hour afterwards she departed to her eternal rest. Though I watched her continually, as did also Charles her husband, and attendants, we could not tell what time her soul took its flight. I had her hand in mine, and should not have been convinced at last that she was dead, if a medical attendant had not told me she was dead.
Thus I have been bereaved of the greatest treasure that a man can possess. I had fondly hoped that she would have had to close my eyes; and have often been comforted with the thought of having such an attendant in my last hours. But, in the midst of my affliction, I cannot express how thankful I am for having been permitted to attend her in her last hours, and for those expressions of her hope which I saw and felt. My soul is exceeding joyful in all my tribulation, and I kiss the rod, not with resignation merely, but with joy and gratitude. But why do I trouble you with this? I do it, that you may be stirred up to improve with greater diligence the time that is afforded you; and that you may cry day and night unto your God to give you tokens of his acceptance, before you come into circumstances, wherein the smiles of God’s face will be the only support and comfort of your soul. O, may God be graciously pleased to pour out his Spirit upon you in a more abundant measure than he has yet done; and while you have yet time to glorify him on earth, may he make you a distinguished monument of his grace and mercy! Little did I think, when I was buying the shawl and jaconet for her, I should so soon have to present her with a winding-sheet. I intend to officiate at her funeral myself, though she did not die in my parish.
Lest my letter make a wrong impression on your mind, I will
142 KINDNBB8 TO A CHILD. [cHAP. Z.
J’ust add, that I lay no stress on those expressions of hope which have been speaking of, as though they were necessary to her salvation; I should have had a good hope of her acceptance, even though she had not so expressed her feelings: but, as coming from a person who had always to that moment been exceedingly diffident of her state, they are a source of great comfort to,” Your very, very affectionate brother,
To Mrs. Ring.
King’s CoU., Feb. 27, 1808.
“My verv dear Friend and Sister, —
“I cannot express to you the obligation you confer upon me by your kind and active zeal in my service; I think the places you mention for the little girl are of importance. There are similar places, one twelve, and another twenty-four miles from Cambridge; but there is not a dear affectionate sister at either of them to give me her report, now and then, as to the progress that is made. That weighs with me against a thousand thin respecting distance, and will further serve as an excuse* (if f wanted one) for going, now and then, to Reading to make all due inquiries. But, joking apart, I feel such extreme importance in the idea of having your kind eye upon her, that I shall not delay to come to Reading to consult you further on the subject. What day I can run down to you will depend on the stay that I can make with you; if I can stay only one nighty I will (God willing) be with you by the Bath coach on Xhursday noon: if I can stay three days, you may probably not see me before Friday. After conversing with you, I shall wish to effect a meeting with the servant whom you mention, and I shall be able to allow her (in the event of my taking her) time to do everything that is right and kind by her present master. I am sorry to hear so poor an account of your dear husband; and I hope to bear you in mind before my heavenly Father, whom I know and believe to be a Grod hearing and answering prayer. With kindest love to Mr. R. and many thanks to Mrs. Johnson,” I remain, my dear Sister,
Most affectionately yours,
“C. Simeon.”*
To the Same.
I thank you and your good gentleman for your united epistles. I have sent my servants daughter to you, and request you to supply her with such clothes as you judge proper for a girl educating for a house-maid. I should be rather under the mark than above it: because love of dress is already too strongly riveted in her mind. I could wish her to keep up writing and arithmetic, preserving her copies, that I, when 1 come to Reading, may see them. 1 wish tnem to be kept four years, because
/ shall see what progress she makes. For though she will have no occasion now for a writing-master above a year longer, she must continue to advance herself both in writing and arithmetic. You will be kind enough to let her be employed now and then in cleaning your best grates, that she may learn all work. Whenever her mistress wants her money, I will send it her; but perhaps it will be better to pay it when I come to Reading, if ever I should be so happv Us to see that place again. The girl must be kept under, for she has a high spirit of her own. I have told her, however, that if she do not obey cheerfully in all things the commands of her mistress, I shall turn her adrift; any complaint from you, I have informed her, will bring down upon her my heaviest displeasure. Thus, I hope, her mistresses, hands will be strengthened, and the child benefited. I have supplied the child with £2, which will be about I85. more than she will have any occasion to spend on the road. Her expenses to London will be about 12«., ditto to Reading, IO5. The residue will do to answer any unforeseen occurrence, or for pocket-money. It may be well, if you please, to let her deposit the surplus in your hands, and to give it her. by decrees, or else it will all go immediately for some piece of finery.
The great debility which Mr. Simeon continued to feel, and the little prospect there appeared of his restoration to vigorous health and power to discharge his former amount of ministerial duty, constrained him at length to accept the proposal, which had been so considerately made to him the year before by his parishioners.
“To the Church- wardens and Parishioners of the Holy Trinity, Cambridge.
«May, ISOS.
“Gentlemen, —
In the course of the last summer, when the debilitated state of my voice obliged me to lay aside all ministerial exertions, and it appeared necessary for me to discontinue the third service, which I nave for so many years given to the parish on the Sunday, you very kindly proposed to me to transfer the lectureship from the afternoon to the evening-service, in order that that service, which is by far the more numerously attended, should be retained.
In answer to that kind proposal I sent you the following letter. (See p. 136.)
It is now, gentlemen, eleven months since I returned that answer; and notwithstanding I have used everv effort to regain my strength, and officiated upon the lowest possible scale of exertion, I find that I am still far, very far, from that measure of
144 AFTEBNOON SERVICE DISCONTINUED. [cHAP. Z.
Strength, which is necessary for an efficient minister. I am therefore obliged once more to devolve the care of the parish upon a friend, whose labors, I trust, will prove most useful and satisfactory to you all. But it will not be practicable for him to sustain the weight of three services in the day; and therefore I must discontinue one of them. To relinquish any one of them is indeed very painful; because it must of necessity happen, that some can attend at one part of the day, who would not be able to attend at another. But if a sacrifice of one service must be made, there can be no doubt which will be attended with the least inconvenience to the parish, and to the town at large; because from an historical record in your parish-book you will find, that the lectureship of Trinity parish was originally considered as institut(ed for the benefit of all the inhabitants of Cambridge: and that it was supported by contributions, not from the parish only, but (probably) from all the more opulent of the stated attendants; since the subscription then was equal to about £200 or £300 a year now. Indeed, of such importance was the lectureship considered on account of the extensive field of usefulness which it opened to the possessor of it, ‘that Dr. Preston, Master of Emmanuel College, refused (as in the forementioned record you are told) the bishopric of Gloucester, in order to fulfil the humbler, but not less useful duties of that station. To what cause we must ascribe the decline of the lectureship, whether to a gradual change of the general time of dining, or to a want of care in the choice of lecturers, or to a general relaxation in religious habits, I will not take upon me to judge; but I think you will agree with me, that it is desirable to restore it, if we can, to its former utility and importance. A very principal means of efifecting this is, to adopt the measure, which you proposed to me in your letter, of altering the time of the lectureship from the afternoon to the evening. That will, in fact, bring back the lectureship nearly to the plan on which it was at first instituted; inasmuch as it will place nearly the same distance of time between the dinner-hour and the lectureship as originally existed. I am aware that some years ago doubts were entertained, whether six o’clock were a canonical hour: but previous to my establishing the extra service in the evening, I took the opinion of the present lord chancellor’s brother (who was the most eminent persoix in his time,) Sir William Scott, upon this point, as well as upon some others connected with it; and his opinion was so clear as to leave no doubt on the subject. Indeed, if this hour were not canonical, how comes it, that not only throughout both the Universities this hour of divine service is genera), but in every diocese; and above all, in the diocese of London there are a multitude of churches which have the service at this hour 7 I mention this, in order that (as no doubt whatever exists in my mind respecting the legality, or the expediency of transferring
€HAP. X.] FUI^BB^S ANBCDOTE. 145
the lectureship to that hour) every one that is interested in it may know the grounds, on which I unite with you in this important measure.
“I have mentioned before, that the salary attsched to the lectureship was formerly such as was proper to remunerate the services to which it was annexed. Unhappily, that is by no means the case at present; and therefore it is to be feared, that the par-. ish may in time either lose the service altogether, or at least the privilege of having an instructor chosen by themselves. To prevent as far as possible such a loss to the parish, I propose that the income, arising from the letting of seats in the galleries which I have built, should in future be appropriated to the support of the lectureship; and that such an appropriation of that fund be registered in the parish-book. And it is my earnest prayer, that the change of the hour, and increase of salary for the lectureship, may secure to the parish after my decease, a succession of lecturers, who shall most effectually promote their eternal interests.”*
Upon this, the following resolution was passed in the vestry, May 9, 1808:
“The health of our minister, the Rev. C. Simeon, no longer admitting of his continuing to us the third service on Sunday, which for many years he has given gratis; and it appearing, from the experience of all those years, that the attendance at church in the evening is much larger than in the afternoon — Resolved — That the lecture establisned and supported by the parish shall henceforth be at six o’clock in the evening, instead of at the time that it has hitherto been preached; and that, agreeably to the generous offer of the Rev. C. Simeon, the rent of the seats in the new galleries be henceforth applied to augment the salary of the lecturer.”
In less than a month from this time Mr. Simeon was trailed to undergo a sacrifice, which perhaps he felt more acutely than any
* The reoord in the parish-book, to which Mr. S. re&n, is the following extract from PuOfff’M History of tfu UnhersUy qf Cambridge:” Anno 1634: The Town Lecture at Trinity Charch being void, two appeared competitor* for the same, namdy, Dr. ^ohn Preston, now Master of Emmanael, Preacher at Lincoln’s Inn, and Chaplain to Prince Chsries, generally desired by the townsmen, contributors to the Lectore; — Paul Mickletbwait, Fellow of Sidney College, an eminent preacher, favored by the’diocesan, Bishop (Ely, and all the heads of houses, to have the place.
“The contest grew high and hard, insomuch as the court was engaged therein. Many admired that Dr. Preston would stickle so much for so small a matter as an annual stipend bf eighty pounds, issuing out of more than thrice eighty purses. But his party pleaded his zeal, not to get gold by, but to do good in the place, where (such the confluence of scholars to the church) he might ‘generare Patres;* which made him to waive
the bishopric of Gloucester (now void and offered unto him) in comparisQp of this lecture. “At Doqr Preston his importunity, the Duke of Buckingham interposing his power, secured it unto him. Thus was he, at the same time, preacher to two places (tnough neither had cure of souls lelly annexed), Lincoln’s Inn, and Trinity Cnurch at Cam* bridge. As Rlisha cured the waters of Jericho by going forth to thie spring-head and easting in salt there, so was it the design of this doctor, ror the better propagation of his principles, to infuse them into these two fountains; the one of law, the otner of divinity. And some conceive that those doctrines, by hijn then delivered, have since had their use and appUeation.”
146 MR. THOMABON SAILS FOR INDIA. [cHAP. X.
he had hitherto endured. He wad at length to part with his beloved and faithful friend, Mr. Thomason: * The friend with whom I live in daily habits of communion, the friend that is as my own soul.’ Mr. Thomason’s * long-meditated design of consecrating his powers through life to the service of his God and Saviour in a distant land, was now to have its accomplishment. ‘Certainly God is doing a great work in India,* he writes; * the laborers are few, and the field amazingly extensive; they want men who will work, and whose habits* are such as to render them useful workmen in a business, where application and study are much wanted. In this respect, my habits and inclinations are favorable.... / consider that what others expose themselves to for lucre and worldly honors, ministers ought to endure for nobler ends.**
In a few days after he had written these remarks, he received his appointment from the court of directors; and on the 7th of June, 1808, he reached St. John’s, in the Isle of Wight, ready to sail with the first fair wind.
As on the departure of his beloved’ Martyn, so now when about to separate from his ’ dear brother’ ThoAnason, Mr. Simeon remained with him to the very last; and not only went on board the vessel, but actually proceeded with him on his voyage as long as it was practicable to return. Mr. Thomason, in a few parting lines to his deeply-sorrowing mother, endeavored to comfort her by a reference to this last act of Mr. Simeon’s love.
“TrsTCPS, underweight June 10, 1809.
••This morning we were summoned on board. The wind has become fair, and we are proceeding out to sea. Our dear and honored friend, Mr. Simeon, accompanied us to the vessel, and is now with us. We all retired to our cabin, and united in prayer, desiring to consecrate this spot to God, and to commit ourselves and all the ship’s company to bis gracious care. Blessed be God, we know what it is to draw nigh to him, and we feel but one concern — that we may glorify him in this world, and enioy him in the next. O! it is an unspeakable mercy to part with a good hope, that we shall one day meet where sorrow and parting shall be no more,”
Mr. Simeon’s feelings on the occasion were intensely exercised. Adored be the name of God,” he writes to Mr. Thomason, *’ for so uniting our hearts in love. For a long time I could not even look up — but at last I cast an eye of grief and affection towards your ship, and repeated it at intervals till you were about fifteen miles off; then finding you were almost out of sight, I went down into the cabin. I arrived at home at twelve o’clock at night, thankful that I had been permitted to enjoy in our separation a pledge that we should meet aain at the right hand of God. Our love will be there the same — it is the expression of it only that will be different.
The wind has changed-^were it to blow hard, you would be driven back again. Shall I appear unkind if I say I should be grieved to see you Though I would not for a great deal have kpst the opportunity of parting with you as I did, I would not willingly pass through it again; a few such scenes would speedily wear and enfeeble my frame. Yet for your sake, more than my own, I wish you not to be delayed in your voyage.
“June 12, Sunday. I am just come from the table of my blessed Lord, where I have been commemorating his dying love with much comfort to my soul. The minister repeated the words to every individual, so that between receiving the sacred elements and returning tcr the public office, I had about half an hour to remember you and your children, the captain, and the passengers, the captain’s widowed wife, and your dear honored brother Mr. Martyn, and many others.”
The voyage, so prayerfully and hopefully commenced, was however not without * hurt and much damage, not only of the lading and ship, but also of their lives.’ Od his arrival at CaJcutta, Mr. Thomason writes to Mr. Simeon the history of their providential escape from shipwreck.
“Decembers, 180a
Here we are, by the good providence of our God, at the wished-for haven. June 10th we left Portsmouth. Nov. 19 we arrived at Calcutta; but we have arrived in a way we did not expect, not only over the waters, but through them. On the morning of Nov. 7 — a morning much to be remembered by us — the Travers struck upon a rock, and in a short time was a complete wreck. The ships in company escajped in all haste from the scene of danger, and were soon out of sight. We were left not to the mercy of the winds and waves, but to the mercy of God who marvellously interposed, and brought us off in safety. As we entered the Bay of Bengal, after a delightful voyage, in which we had not been seriously incommoded by winds or worn out with calms, the wind obliged us to go to the eastward, and pass by two of the Nicobar Islands, and sail to Bengal by the inward passage. In coming out of that passage, though the navigation is dangerous, off Cape Negrais, the southernmost point of Ava is Diamond Island, then in a southerly direction. Drowned Island, the Cocos Preparis, the Andamans. Between Diamond Island and Drowned Island is a reef of rocks, and by some mistake of the captain’s we got among them. At five o’clock, Monday morning, Nov. 7, the ship struck. I had just dressed myself, and was actually proceeding towards the deck, when just as I had fairly reached it a tremendous blow, which almost overset the ship, clearly showed us the nature of our situation. In a moment all the ship’s crew were assembled on deck. I went down in haste to B. and informed her of the disaster, and we hastened
148 MR. BIMBDN 8 RBMABK8. [cHAP. X.
up together. She had nothing on her but a counterpane, and the dear children each a sheet. We clung together near the round-house, and lifted up our hearts to God. It was an awful scene; every countenance was filled with terror and despair. Thus in one short moment they had exchanged their peaceful slumbers, for all the horrors of threatening destruction. The ship continued to strike violently; one mast was cut away after another. The guns were thrown overboard, and every hand was employed in clearing and launching the boat This was our only resource, and now the long-boat was. let down into the sea, checked as it was by spars, and unaided by tackle, though the loss of the masts is at this time a subiect of surprise, even to naval men of experience. Through the good providence of God, this was at length effected, and when the ship was filled with water, and all the lower decks blown up; when the stem-post was gone, and all the afier-cabin dashed into one; when the oack of the ship was broken, and she was fast sinking in the middle, we saw the long-boat safely launched into the deep. The ladies were let down by haul-lines, one by one, then the children, and- the* gentlemen passengers, until ninety-three passengers had crowded into the long-boat, and we seemed ready to sink. In the cutter were eighteen, in the jolly-boat eleven, in all one hundred and twenty-two. Six Europeans were lefl, seven Chinamen, and three Lascars.
In the boat we had to encountef new perils; no ships were in sight, the land at a great distance, and we had neither oars nor sail to steady us; the sea seemed every instant ready to swallow us up. This interval of twenty minutes was very critical, for the wind was fresh, and the boat unmanageable, from the crowd of persons that overloaded it. At length the sail was hoisted, and after going before the wind near one hour and a half, we saw at a great distance the other two ships. After encountering three heavy squalls, and escaping many dangerous seas, we arrived, through the mercy of God, safe ‘on board the E. Spencer, Captain Heming, where we were received with transports of joy, and treated with most affectionate kindness. Major and M rsl Welch gave Mrs. Thomason and myself half of their cabin. We reachedour friends half naked, without one earthly comfort, stripped of our all except the rags on our back.
* They who are wise will observe these things.’”
Mr. Simeon’s observations in reply are very characteristic.
“How deep and mysterious are the ways of God! — that you should be made willing to transport yourself and family, and all you had, to the shores of India, and then be landed on these shores, glad to escape with your very lives! You view the calamity in its true light. I adore my God for giving you so just a view of it. God has said to you, as to the first-bom of Egypt, ‘I have spared your lives, and you shall be mine.’ I trust it is
GBAP. X«] LBTTBE OF MR. THOMASON. 149
not the wish of either of you, that a commutation of the Levites should ever take place. You are well-contented and happy that his service should be your one employment — himself your only portion. I was much comforted to find, that in the midst of your danger and distress, not a thought of regret ever assailed your minds. Here is the comfort of being in the LorcTs way. We are prepared for every event. I am persuaded that Grod has had designs of good towards the people of Calcutta. The exercises of love, to which your necessities have called them, will, I hope, be matured to a habit, and such an attachment be formed as shall endure to all eternity.**
The following Jetter, written by Mr. Thomason five months after his shipwreck, to Mr. Simeon, proves his loss to have been indeed gain. Like the apostle, whom he thus followed ’ in perils in the sea,’ amidst all his ’ necessities and distresses,’ he could rejoice ’ as having nothing, and yet possessing all things.*
My beloved and honored Friend, —
What shall I say to you? The request with which
Jour letter concludes, is in unison with all the feelings of my eart. I may well have something appropriate to say to one who has loved so much, and to whom we are all bound by so many ties of obligation and love. We have received two letters from you, both o7 which have dheered us more than words can express. The tears of affection you have shed for us are not, I hope, totally lost upon us, though we ‘are very, very unworthy of the love you bear towards us. Accept of our most affecti6nate acknowledgments for every expression of love, every friendly admonition, every tender petition for our welfare. It has often comforted and warmed our hearts, when we reflect on the interest we bear in your prayers. One evidence I have, that my heart is not altogether insensible, is my daily grief and sorrow that the warm and lively feelings expressed in your letter, do not meet with a more corresponding glow in my own heart. 0 wretched heart! inexpressibly unworthy the least of God’s mercies! I do chide myself and take the shame of my coldness and ingratitude towards God and towards you. I pray God to kindle the flame of love in me, that the fire may be burning brighter and brighter upon the altar every day. It is not animal anection I deplore the want of, but Christian affection — holy love, that love that gives earnestness to prayer, and which brings us into the happy enjoyment of Christian communion at a throne of grace, though separated 16,000 miles from each other. Here it is that the ardor of four affection meets with so wretched a return, and here it is that find daily cause for humiliation and grief. I have taken your letters in my hand — walked ‘after sunset on the roof of our church, and wept In feeble and sorrowful accents I have endeavored to confess all my vileness before God. For ever blessed be His
160 HIB THOUGHTS ON HIB 8HIPWBBCK* [CHAP. X.
name I the vilest may find mercy; and that one word expresses the one thing which I want. Sure none will have such great cause to bless God for his pardoning mercy and his saving srace as myself. With respect to the actual state of my own mmd, I can only say, as I think I did in my last to you from Mr. Brown’s house, that I hope I am beginning to understand the gracious dealings of God, and to feel the unspeakable importance of my situation as a minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.’ I bless God the shipwreck has not been wholly forgotten, though I only feel beginning to improve it. ‘If the Lord nimself had not been on our side,’ even such a mercy would have been wholly forgotten. Experience shows us that except He give us grace to improve his dispensations, no judgments, no mercies, no warnings, will avail anything. In our almost miraculous escape from the deep, God has given us a new and impressive call, for which we have reason to bless his name; but more especially have we reason to bless him for not having suffered it to escape from our wretched hearts. It has in some measure led us to renewed earnestness and deep humiliation before God, and now, at the end of five months, I feel a growing sense of gratitude to the Lord for having brought us to India in the way he has. Many of our friends at home have pitied us, but indeed it is a great matter of joy. I value it as a most precious jewel, and would not on any account recover from the deep what we have lost, even were it in my power. The Lord moves in a mysterious Vay, but all his doings are in faithfubiess and mercy. We were coming to India flushed with hope, full of ardor and sanguine expectations, much animal fervor, and an amazing portion of self-sufficiency. He casts us upon a rock; it was a nard blow, and it spoke loudly, ‘Mind what you are about.’ We were richly furnished with books and stores of various kinds; he takes them all from us; sends us here as castaways, completely stripped of everything but our trust in Him and hope in his Word. Blessed be His name, I say agaii and again, that He gives us also a heart to think of these things, and to pray for a right improvement of them. The searchings of heart, on this, occasion have been very salutary though pamful; and we can testify to the praise of His grace, that we are laboring with new earnestness, new zeal, new love, new thankfulness, to live wholly for God. And now, my dearly beloved friend, you having expressed a wish to hear something appropriate, what can I say to you? What can I communicate to you but the actual workings of my heart? You will reasonably expect that such an introduction to India ought to be accompanied with important effects on my own mind, and ought to lead to a new and more devoted surrender of myself to the Lord. I beseech yt)u, when you write, express freely your views upon this gubject. Tell me what effects ought to follow from a dispensation of this nature. I charge you “before Grod, as you value the cause of your blessed
Radeemert and desire to promote it, to put me in mind of these things with authority. Ask whether I am living more nearly to God; remind me of this very reauest I am now making, that I may be stirred up to diligent sen-examination, lest I be put to shame before 6oa and man. 1 pray God that his blessing may rest upon you, both in your, public and private, and in all your social duties: to all the dear people at Shelford and Cambridge present my Christian love. I look back upon my ministry amongst them with deep shame and grief of heart. I have injured them all, and I shall never be able to express this to them m person. I cannot but do it before God, and implore God for my innumerable neglects and want of spiritual zeal and faithfulness whilst among them. I never loved them so much as at this moment, and never so earnestly desired their spiritual welfare.
*’ If it please God to spare my life, I hope to give some efficient aid in translations. At present, of course, I can do nothing, but others are doing wonders. Honored and beloved M artyn, whose face we are not likely to see for a long time, is doing, as always, great things.’*
Mr. Simeon replies: —
I cannot express what refreshment your long letter was to my soul. The length of time between one iftonth after your arrival and the month of February was so great as to cause painful apprehensions. But your letter at last made amends for all. There was* one part, in particular, that quite overcame me, and for a time deprived me ot utterance. Your mention of our dear brother M artyn: a great length of time had intervened since an letter had arrived from him: the last gave a bad account of his health. His only-surviving sister died about eight months ago, and 1 began to fear that he was dead also. The sight of his name, and of his restoration to health was such a cause for gratitude, that I instantly fell on my knees to bless and adore my God.
“If my emotions have been less strong respecting you, they have not been less sincere or Jess affectionate. Indeed, the two first times I read your letter, my sensations were quite strong enough for my weak frame to sustain. As it contained nothing which our dear friends and people ought not to hear, I permitted it be read, being myself present to make observations: it is needless to mention what universal joy and gratitude it excited.
“But how shall I answer your letter where you bid me to charge you in the name of our Almighty Father, and to put questions to you in my own particular way? Alas! I want to be charged myself, and am but little qualified to charge others: and if questions were put to me, I must answer them by hanging down my head and covering my face with shame. As to the question you ask respecting the improvement you should make of the deliverance vouchsafed you, i know of no words whereby to express
152 CLERICAL MEETING. [cHAP. X.
it better, than * to be humbled in thankfulness oefore God, I can in some little measure tell you how it has been with me in some very recent deliverances on horseback. I had most confidently put myself in God’s hands, and he most graciously preserved me: m return for which I could not help saying, in the words of David, that * all my bones should praise him.’ I could not help putting forth first one limb, then another, stretching them forth to Him, and receiving them afresh from Him, and devoting them afresh to Him. Thus then, I think, it may be with you; you may receive yourself afresh from Him, and devote yourself, in all your f)wers and faculties, afresh to Him. When you see dear Mrs. homason and your children, receive them from the Lord afresh, tell them they are His, and that you give them up to Him. The state of mind, which under your circumstances I should wish to retain, is that of humble, grateful adoration. It was but Tuesday last I preached on the first petition of the Lord’s Prayer, and though commentators generally interpret it as merely supplicatory, I could not but consider it as Eucharistic. I have found, at all times when my soul has been in a better frame, that admiring and adoring acknowledgments have preceded supplications, and that I dared not ask for more, till I had rendered my acknowledgments for past favors. This I feel to be my state, when I awake, if I am at all in a proper frame, and the object which, whether in your situation or my own, I should wish to attain, would be to have my soul abidingly in this state.” *
Allusions have occasionally been made in the foregoing memoir to certain meetings of Mr. Simeon’s clerical friends, which were of a peculiarly instructive character, and regarded by all who attended them with feelings of no ordinary gratification. Asa description of them has already been given oy one, who of all others is the most competent to write on the subject, the account here subjoined is taken without alteration from Mr. Preston’s * Memoranda.’
“Of the many recollections of Mr. Simeon, on which it is now delightful to hi* friends to dwell, one, not the least interesting or profitable, is that of th annual meetings of clerical parties, which assembled, by his invitation, at the house, first of Mr. Thomason, at Little Shelford near Cambridge; and afterwards of his successor, who subsequently removed to Aspeden Hall in Hertfordshire, where the meetings were continued. These were distinguished from most other clerical meetings, which are now not uncommon, by being composed, not of persons collected from the immediate neighborhood, but of those with whom, from circumstances or from choice, Mr. Simeon had been in habits of more than ordinary intimacy, and also by the married clergymen being invited up bring their wives with them; — Mr. Simeon, with kind considera-OHAF. X.] CLERICAL MEETlNa. 15S
tion, wishing that that sex, which often contributes largely, like ’ the beloved Persis,’ to the success of ministerial labors, should enjoy the benefit of the general conversation which took place after dinner, and also be enabled to compare together their several schemes of parochial usefulness, as the helps- :ieet of their respective partners. The whole of the party, consisting sometimes of from twenty to thirty persons, were accommodated on the spot: and continued together two entire davs, besides the days of arrival and departure. The clergy spent the mornings, after breakfast, in conference, principally on the Scriptures; Mr. Simeon, generally, assisted by some one, presiding. A favorite book of Mn Simeon, on these occasions, was WarderCs System of Revealed Religion which contains a digest of revelation under separate heads, composed in the express words of Scripture. The passages were usually read; first, as collected together, and then separately, in the Old and New Testament; copies of the original being provided, and continually consulted. These conferences, divested as much’ as possible of stiflTness — which was the more easily effected from the harmony and mutual confidence of the brotherly circle — were exceedingly delightful, and doubtless profitable. God, being thus honored, in being inquired after in His own word by those whose province it was to dispense it to others — the search after His will being begun and ended with prayer — did assuredly manifest Himself to them as He does not to the world. They have often said in words, and oftener in their hearts, ‘It is good for us to be here.’ This imperfect record will perhaps meet the eye of some who were present; and they will with one consent confirm it.
“While the clergy were thus employed, the ladies were in another room, where they read together, and endeavored to edify one another. At the hours of repast and in the evenings, all met together. After tea there was usually some leading topic of conversation likely to be interesting and profitable to both sexes; letters also, or any religious intelligence, or schemes of usefulness likely to be generally acceptable, were then brought forward.
“This narrative, divested of all mystery, will perhaps abate the tiears of some persons, who have apprehended they scarcely kn6w what lurking mischief from such * unauthorized assemblies.’ If any who felt jealousy, or suspected evil, could have seen and heard without being seen, they would haply have fallen upon their knees and confessed that God was in that place. They would at least have witnessed there, what is recorded on high ’ authority to have taken place in olden time — when they that feared the Lord spake often one to another; and the Lord hearkened, and heard it: and a book of remembrance was written before Him for them that feared the Lord, and thought upon His name: and they shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up my jewels; and I will spare them, as a man
IM LETTKB TO DB. miHO. [OUF. X.
tpareth hu own son that wrveth him/* Certainly not one of those who have been present at those privileged seasons now repents — except of not having profited more from such opportnnities. Never, probably, will some of them know more than they then experienced of the deli^ht of the communion of saints, till they shall again meet with Martyn, and Jowett, and Lowe, and ThomascHi, and Sargent, and Simeon, and Parish, and (we name one only of those stiH on earth, because he is out of the immediate reach of this record) Daniel Wilson, and others whom we could name — men honored of God, and much esteemed in the Church at the supper of the Lamb in heaven.”
What were Mr. Simeon’s feelings respecting these hallowed meetings of endeaied friends will appear from the following letter to Dr. King.
“K.C, Jiilj28,1809.
My very dear Brother* —
Such a season God has never yet vouchsafed unto us. For half a day perhaps I have often known times as precious; but never for nearly three days together. The solemnity, the tenderness, the spirituality, and the love were equal to anything I have ever seen. God was truly in * the midst of us.’ Ladies and gentlemen were both highly favored in their separate discussions; and the sermons, especially Mr. Fry’s last night, on * Because thine heart was tender,’ were accompanied with an unction from the Holy One, and a blessing on all who heard them. You may judge a little by the whole assembly grudging the time that was allowed for bodily refreshment, (which was as short as it could well be,) and expressing a wish that, in future, that should enter as little as possible into the idea of the meeting. Our separation this day has been very affecting; every one seemed as if taking leave of
his dearest friend who was going to India Our jubi*
lee was as different from the religious dissipation of the mission societies, as a sweet rustic scene differs from Cheapside. O for more of that divine composure, that tender love, that heavenly ardor which animated the whole company! Less mixture of the animal I never expect to see in this world. Humility, meekness, gentleness, love, stillness, the full eye, the tender look, the slow unimposing voice; in short, come and see, — come and taste, — come and exemplify, — if our lives be spared to another yeaur: — and in the meantime believe me, my dear friend,
Most affectionately yours,
“C. SlMBON.”
Md. ID. 16, 17.