Downham,
Friday Morning.
We arrived here safe last night soon after six o'clock, and were very kindly received. Many of the people round the country have made great inquiries when I should come, therefore I have hope of a good company to hear me, and of some success among the hearers; but this work lies with the Lord. I am at present in myself rather low and flat, much more in the valley than on the mount; more darkness than light, more rough paths than plain, and more appetite than food. It ill, however, becomes me to complain, knowing that nothing but sovereign grace makes the difference between the heir of promise and the son of perdition.
I do long to see the word run and be glorified, but ours are not days of great success. In our days we labour much for little fruit, much ploughing and sowing, but little crops, little reaping, and small harvests. We labour, but the time will come when others will enter into our labours, and reap what we have sown. The Arminians have built a place at Littleport, and now they have opened a house at Downham; but still their end will be according to their works. We must have a daily cross, and daily oppositions; but this we do know, that no vessel but a vessel of mercy can sail both against wind and tide. It is not the first but the last in the heavenly race, that wins the prize; and this no Arminian ever saw.
I am now on my watch-tower, hoping, begging, and expecting that the Master will come at the second or the third watch; at least at the cock-crowing, or in the morning; for sure I am that unless the Master bless the sacrifice, the guests that are bidden cannot be satisfied. There is bread enough in our Father's house, and wines plenty on the lees, but the feasts are too, too seldom; the Master is rich, but all the servants are poor.
When first he woos, and wins, and draws our hands to the plough, how kind, how liberal, how bountiful, he doth appear. So tender, so indulgent, so sympathetic, that he comes leaping upon the mountains, and skipping upon the bills, as soon as his promised aid is sought. But when your hands are fast to the ploughhandles, then there is a suspension of these soul-dissolving visits. Smiles are exchanged for frowns, embraces for refrainings, visits for desertions, and kisses for strokes; then the time is come that we desire to see one of the days of the Son of Man, and we desire in vain. Nevertheless faith holds her own.
Ever your's,
The Heir at law.
W. H., S. S
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