Thanks be to God, that you have a clear view of your own heart. This is a most profitable prospect, though a most dreadful one. Think me not cruel, when I wish that the holy Spirit may _deeply_ wound your soul with a sense of its corruptions. The deeper the conviction, the firmer the peace that follows.
*I hardly know how to believe you, when you tell me you are hurried away by desires after worldly happiness. Is it possible? Alas, my friend, pardon the harshness of the expression, if the love of the world is in your heart, you are only a _painted sepulchre_, beautiful indeed outwardly, but within――――. My dear creature, I cannot bear to think this――a Christian to be hurried away with desires and endeavours after worldly happiness! If St. _Paul_’s character of a Christian is right, how far are you from being a Christian? “Ye are dead,” says he, “and your life is hid with Christ in God.”
May not these violent ragings of pride, vanity, &c. you speak of, be some of the last struggles of a dying enemy? When the strong man armed keepeth his house, his goods are in peace. But when there is a stronger comes upon him to overcome him, and to take from him that armour in which he trusted, no wonder the house is in a tumult. And this I hope is your present case. But beware, my dear soul, of thinking, that you never should be otherwise. Limit not the grace of God. He has only to say, _Peace, be still_, and immediately the winds and seas obey him. “But how to obtain this peace?” Oh my dear friend, will you follow the advice of the meanest and most unworthy of the servants of Christ? Look upon yourself as being only _now_ fully convinced of your guilt and dreadful condition. Look upon yourself as a _poor, lost, helpless, miserable creature_. Set before your eyes your sins, with all their aggravations; and when your soul is weighed down to the dust under a sense of your own vileness, then throw yourself at the foot of the cross: there lie as a loathsome leper before the almighty healer: there let your parched soul _gasp_ (with the utmost stretch of all your faculties) after those life-giving streams which flowed from Christ’s hands, his feet, his pierced side; and there keep the eye of your mind fixed, until the still small voice be heard in your soul――“Be of good cheer, thy sins are forgiven thee.”
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I WAS in hopes, my dear, that I had cause to think you had gained ground; but if I was mistaken, am very sorry. God forbid however that you should have gone back: I must not for my own ease believe that. *The reason for your not finding so much comfort as usual flowing from the cross, is because you lay yourself too much out upon _outward_ things. I doubt not but your own will is indeed very powerful, and it will ever be so, while you indulge yourself in castle-building. Let your schemes be ever so good, they are (unless God had given you the means and power to perform them) merely the creatures of your own will; and I don’t know any thing that self-will more delights in, than in these imaginary good projects. Believe me, my dear soul, I speak from experience. There is nothing more encourages self-will, pride, and every temper we ought to subdue, than these schemes. For God’s sake strive to get the better of this folly. I know your temper is naturally inclined to it, and therefore you ought to be more particularly watchful. Cannot you, my love, keep your thoughts fixed on the present moment, in a constant dependance on the leadings of the Spirit of God, and only wishing that every succeeding moment may bring a new accession of grace to your soul, without fixing on the particular means, by which you would have it come? When the will is in this total resignation to God, it brings a peace to the soul, which cannot be described.
I don’t like your going to _Vauxhall_, I think you ought to try every possible means, to get off. Suppose you were to be sincere, and own it was against your conscience. Pray God direct you what to do. If you are really _forced_ to go, God will preserve your heart from the pollutions of the place. If this is the case, I think you will be in less danger of being hurt there, than in your visit to Mrs. ****: for in this visit you will lie exposed to the worst enemy you have, that is, _yourself_. With those good people, whom you love and admire, and who love and admire you, you will without the most constant watchfulness, be continually falling into self-seeking and self-applause.
I fear, my love, you will soon think me too plain in my speaking; but I cannot answer it to my conscience, since what has past between us, not to warn you of every thing which seems to me to prevent your progress in grace. Don’t imagine though, that I wish you would not make this visit to Mrs. ****; quite the contrary; but I wish you to keep the most constant guard upon your own heart, that what should be for your health, be not unto you an occasion of falling.