A Letter To Mr Parry – December 21st, 1859

My dear Friend Mr. Parry,

I was intending to write to you soon, even if I had not received your kind and friendly letter, but I have been much occupied with the Standard, &c., and, indeed, have hardly been adequate for much mental exertion. I took cold at Oakham, and I rather neglected it, instead of sending for my medical attendant, who now knows pretty well the nature of my attacks. This has been rather more severe than usual. I was obliged to have a blister, which always much pulls me down, and I have been and still am very weak. But I hope, through mercy, that I am slowly recovering, but it is usually some time before I am able to bear exposure to the air, or the exertion of preaching. Last year I was wonderfully favoured, not being laid aside a single Lord’s-day; but with my tender chest I could hardly expect to be again so favoured. Quite providentially Mr. Brown, of Godmanchester, has been in the neighbourhood, and has been supplying for me the month of December; but I fear we shall be destitute for the coming month, at least at Oakham. The friends, however, are very considerate, and seem quite willing to ‘read sermons’ during the time that I am laid aside.

We cannot choose our own crosses, or I am sure I should not choose mine; but as we all must have our trials, and cannot choose what they shall be, it is our wisdom and mercy to submit to the will of God, and beg of Him to sanctify to our souls the troubles and afflictions which He himself lays on. I dare say you recollect that it was just about this time twenty-four years ago when I had a similar attack on my chest, and was unable to preach for some Lord’s days. Poor Mr. S___ was called in, and, I believe, thought me very ill, but I have lived to see both him, and others as strong, laid in their graves. You had poor old Mr. Slade to preach for you, and I remember well my text when I got out to preach again was “Gird your sword upon your thigh,” &c.; but, instead of experiencing that sweet liberty which I anticipated on my first coming out, I was very much shut up, and had hardly anything to say. I have been but dark in my present illness. The poor body seems to sink under the weight, and the mind to sink with it.

It will be a very poor Address, I fear the worst which has appeared for some years. But I had to write a good part of it in bed, and being so weakened with the blister, &c., I felt quite unequal to any sustained mental exertion. People who read the Reviews and Addresses think, perhaps, that it is very easy to sit down and write them off; but they require an amount of thought and care that few persons are aware of. My desire and aim is to write something that shall be spiritual, experimental, edifying, and instructive to the Church of God. But very often I am not in a frame to write anything of the kind, and take up my pen, and can hardly write a single line.

Being also weak in body, much mental exertion wearies and fatigues me, and I am obliged after writing a few pages, to lay my pen down and rest. So altogether it is hard work. Still, I do not repine, nor do I wish to give up my work. No task or office can be so honourable as to write or preach for the glory of God, and the good of His people. I hope I can say with a clear conscience that this is my desire. There is something very precious in the truth of God, something very blessed in the person of Christ, His atoning blood, finished work, and dying love. There are no subjects of meditation so sweet, so blessed, or so profitable. My mind runs out after a thousand things, and thinks over a variety of subjects, but there is no real profit in anything but the blessed things of God. But to get at them, and still more, to get into them, we need much of a spirit of prayer, and, above all, a spirit of faith to be mixed with the word.

I am well convinced that carnality, sloth, and carelessness, will never do us any good. They are like the weeds that run over the garden or the farm, where the more they are neglected, the more they grow. But prayer, watchfulness, and meditation are means in the Lord’s hands of keeping under these weeds, and keeping alive the crop of grace. You, as a farmer, have been, distinguished as a clean one. I could not but contrast the lands you lately occupied with those of your neighbour, when I was at Allington last year. I fully believe any one of common observation could see where one farm ended, and the other began. So it is in grace, the heart cannot grow a large crop of weeds, and a large crop of wheat.

I hope the Lord may be with you on the coming Lord’s day. It is many years since it has been a merry Christmas to me, nor do I ever wish to spend one amid the mirth of fools. Still, we wish you and yours everything that can be desirable to make it a happy Christmas, and if the Lord be pleased to sanctify it by His Spirit and grace, nothing will be needed to make it happy.

Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.