A Letter To William Tiptaft – September 28th, 1860
My dear William Tiptaft.
I have reason to hope that my illness last winter was blessed to me, and to others through me; for I certainly had more life and feeling in my soul, and I believe in my ministry, as the fruit of it.
But though we prize spiritual blessings above all others, yet our coward flesh shrinks from the trial of affliction through which the blessing comes. God however has joined them together, and they cannot be separated. I believe I can say, I never had a single spiritual blessing which did not come either in or through affliction or trial; and I also know that we are not fit for spiritual blessings, except by being made so through the furnace. There seems to be no real earnest cry, or longing desire for a blessing from the Lord Himself, except we are humbled and brought down into some pressing necessity. I have always found that this has been the spot where the most sincere and earnest cries and prayers are made to the Lord, and where the Lord Jesus Christ is made precious to the soul. These afflictions and trials strip, as it were, the world and worldly things off our backs, as well as all our own wisdom, and strength, and righteousness; and this makes us long for spiritual blessings, such as to be taught of the Lord Himself, to have His strength made perfect in our weakness, to be washed from all our sins in His atoning blood, and to be clothed with His glorious and perfect righteousness. And these prayers and desires are not mere words or formal expressions, but the real breathings and earnest desires of a soul which stands feelingly in need of them all. I know this has been my experience since I have been under my present affliction; and therefore I do not speak of things at a distance, but near at hand. Hezekiah, on his bed of sickness, could say—”By these things men live, and in all these things is the life of my spirit.”
I could wish, if it had been the Lord’s will, to have spoken at Bath, Trowbridge, and Leicester, of some of those divine realities which I trust I have seen and known for myself. But it was not to be so; and it becomes me, if the Lord enables, to submit. I am sure I fully deserve to be entirely cast out of His hand, and never again to be made use of, either by tongue or pen; so that if I were to look to myself, I would not have far or long to search for the cause of my being laid aside, for I am sure I deserve nothing but the Lord’s anger and displeasure, and that for evermore. Whatever ground others may stand upon, there is one on which I can never stand, no, not for a single moment—and that is my own righteousness. And if we are to have some standing-ground—or how else can we stand for time or eternity?—what rock can there be for our feet, but that which God laid in Zion? Being driven from every other standing-place by the law of God, the convictions of our own conscience, and a view of our dreadful sinful heart, we feel compelled to show to others, when called upon to do so, the peril of standing upon such a sandy foundation as SELF; and having seen and felt something of the blessedness and suitability of the Lord Jesus Christ, we can hold Him up to others as a sure foundation, if the Lord be pleased to reveal it to their hearts.
We had a very good congregation at Abingdon on the Tuesday evening. I felt in a solemn frame of mind, and I hope we had something of the power and presence of the Lord. I think I never knew the Abingdon congregation to listen with so much stillness and attention as on that evening. On the Lord’s day there is usually a good deal of crowding, and this sometimes takes off from the attention; but this year was the quietest and least excited congregation that I have known for several years. The Temperance Hall was well filled. It was thought about or over four hundred people, and I understand, if it had not been for a tea meeting among the Independents, we would have been overflowed. I hope I felt some life and liberty in speaking. It is one of the nicest places to speak in (not a chapel) that I was ever in. There is no ceiling, but it is open to the roof, very much like the college halls at the university, which makes it very airy and pleasant, without draught. There is no pulpit, but a raised platform, like that at Birmingham, and a kind of sounding-board behind, which throws the voice well out, so that there is no need of exertion.
I hope the Lord will be with you and the people at Stamford next Lord’s day.
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
Jesus is LORD! 
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