The Life and Letters of the Rev. George Mortimer, M.A. John Armstrong
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and have reason to believe I am in the situation which God designed me to fill. My employment is my delight—my heart is in it—a circumstance I could seldom boast of when toiling through the drudgery of mathematics. Mr. E. and I go on in perfect harmony. I feel very much attached to him; and from the marks I am daily receiving of his kindness, I may conclude he looks with a favourable eye on my endeavours to help him in his important work.”
TO HIS SISTER.
Wellington, 12th November, 1811.
In my last I promised an account of my parochial proceedings: though I have nothing brilliant to communicate, yet I hope I may say, after nearly six months’ residence, that I have good ground to believe I have not mistaken my path in entering the ministry. The increase of congregation, both among the poorer as well as the richer sort, afford me some encouragement, and I have frequently observed persons manifestly affected under the word delivered. I am not so sanguine as to expect great things should be done by so feeble a labourer as myself. “The honest and good hearted” among the congregation have already gladly received and profited by the word under my most excellent vicar, and, consequently, it is not to be expected that any remarkable change should be effected; but, as I have observed before, I have perceived that the Spirit of God is among us to apply the word, and so long as persons are not completely hardened, we may indulge some hope concerning them.
A few Sundays ago I supplied the church of a neighbouring minister who has not been long in these parts. I preached from these words, “The Lord turned and looked on Peter.” I had taken another sermon with me, but some how or other could not make up my mind to preach it, and it will appear by the sequel that the Lord had some gracious purpose to answer by it. A poor woman, a former hearer of Mr. — happened to come into this part of the country, and she mentioned to her daughter that she should like to go and hear her old minister, but related at the same time a dream that she had the night before, that a strange minister at Mr. C—‘s church was the means of doing her good and recovering her from her backsliding state. She accordingly came, and no sooner did I enter the desk than she said to her daughter, “That is the clergyman I dreamed of who recovered me to God.” The subject by the Divine blessing was suitable to her case, and Mr. —, who related the anecdote to me, stated, that she began with fresh earnestness to devote herself to the service of God, and gave manifest tokens of the work being from above.
TO THE REV. J. ARMSTRONG.
Wellington, September 17th, 1811.
My very dear Armstrong,
I have been regaling myself this afternoon with a perusal of a large packet of your letters, forwarded to me from time to time. They present my much esteemed friend under a great variety of feelings and circumstances: but they uniformly exhibit him as the sincere and devoted Christian, and as the warm and substantial friend. Oh, how do I pity that poor soul who has never experienced the exquisite delights of friendship! Believe me, Armstrong, I would not exchange the feelings which at present animate my soul for all the wealth in the universe. It would be bauble when contrasted with the inestimable blessing of a friend, whose heart, whose sentiments, whose pursuits, are congenial with your own. God forbid that I should ever see the time in which this blessing should he withholden from me. How do I admire those words of Shakspeare:—
“The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel.”
I lament, however, one circumstance in which my sentiments and my conduct were in this respect diametrically opposite; I mean when I so far gave way to the feelings of the moment as to write that letter, which seems to have caused you so much pain: your conciliatory answer, which I have just been reading, makes me more ashamed of myself than I can express; I hope, however, that it will prove a salutary warning through the whole of my subsequent life. You will be surprised, perhaps, at this apology made so long after the offence: I make it from a conviction that my former letter did not sufficiently express the feelings which I ought to have entertained. * * * * *
Believe me,
Your affectionately sincere
G. M.
TO THE REV. J. ARMSTRONG.
Wellington, Jan. 28th, 1812.
My very dear Friend,
I very much long to see you and your little domestic circle, and, especially so, in consequence of the information contained in your last: for I am given to understand that personal intercourse will not much longer be vouchsafed me.
Do not suppose, however, that I would wish that any personal advantage, which I might promise myself from your remaining in England, should prove the least obstacle to that most glorious work which it has pleased God to incline you to desire and pursue. I rejoice most sincerely in the grace which he has poured upon you, and I admire the leadings of Divine Providence, which have so clearly and manifestly opened your path. But still, notwithstanding the approval which my judgment is constrained to give, yet I cannot altogether divest myself of that affection which would fain induce me to chain you to some nearer spot. It tells me that real friends are few; it whispers also that, among all my friends, no one has ever yet so completely merited the name. But still, as it has pleased God to put it into the heart of my friend to undertake so noble, so glorious an employment, I cannot for a moment indulge any feeling of complaint. It is all well; and, as I said before, I rejoice in the grace and providential dealings which have been manifested on your behalf.
It requires no small measure of faith and self-denial to leave the pleasures of social life—the intercourse of friends and the innumerable ties which a long series of years has tended to strengthen. I have often gazed in silent admiration at the peculiar kind of spirit which must animate a missionary, and have concluded that it must be peculiarly acceptable in the sight of Almighty God. But, alas! much as I have admired the spirit, I feel that I have scarcely a spark of it—not, indeed, that I should find it difficult to forego the pleasures which at present surround me, not that I should be staggered at leaving my present situation to live in one which is remote, and which is now unknown to me; but that I am sensible that these feelings would not last. The inconceivable ignorance of some, the stupidity of others, and the state (I was going to say) of moral and religious incapacity, to which a long indulgence in vicious habits has reduced the generality, would check my fervour, damp my zeal, and cause me either to slacken my exertions, or else to desist from the work in despair. When we get into discouraging circumstances, how readily do we slide into despondency. We may not, perhaps, altogether lose sight of the power of God, and its all-sufficiency to help us through; but we are apt to conclude that we are not the proper instruments; that we have protruded ourselves into situations which God never designed for us; and that, though he could most easily help us, yet that, for wise purposes, he sees fit to leave us in a great measure to ourselves. Such, my dear Armstrong, are our reasonings in general, when brought into discouraging circumstances; and, from a close examination of my own heart for some years past, I am persuaded that whatever zeal and self-denial might animate me in the first instance, yet that these blessed feelings would not last when brought to those severe trials which are the lot of the missionary—I mean of that person who has to contend with all the difficulties arising from a foreign station. These difficulties, however, in your case are greatly diminished, and even were it otherwise the Spirit vouchsafed to you, may enable you to grapple with them with the greatest ease. Oh! that this may be your constant experience! I rejoice in that spirit and temper which has hitherto regulated the conduct of my friend, and my constant, my stated prayers shall ascend up before the God of power and grace, that he may ever enjoy a rich