CHAPTER IV.
An Account of His Last Affliction, and the Holy and Happy Exercises of His Mind Under it.
EARLY in October, 1798, Mr. Pearce attended at the Kettering ministers' meeting, and preached from Psal. xc. 16, 17, "Let thy work appear unto thy servants, and thy glory unto their children. And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us: and establish thou the work of our hands upon us; yea, the work of our hands establish thou it." He was observed to be singularly solemn and affectionate in that discourse. If he had known it to be the last time that he should address his brethren in that part of the country, he could scarcely have felt or spoken in a more interesting manner. It was a discourse full of instruction, full of a holy unction, and that seemed to breathe an apostolical ardour. On his return, he preached at Market-Harborough; and riding home the next day in company with his friend Mr. Summers, of London, they were overtaken with rain. Mr. Pearce was wet through his clothes, and towards evening complained of a chilliness. A slight hoarseness followed. He preached several times after this, which brought on an inflammation, and issued in a consumption. It is probable that if his constitution had not been previously impaired, such effects might not have followed in this instance. His own ideas on this subject are expressed in a letter to Dr. Ryland, dated Dec. 4, 1798; and in another to Mr. King, dated from Bristol, on his way to Plymouth, March 30, 1799. In the former, he says, "Ever since my Christmas journey last year to Sheepshead, Nottingham, and Leicester, on the mission business, I have found my constitution greatly debilitated, in consequence of a cold caught after the unusual exertions which circumstances then demanded: so that, from a frame that could endure any weather, I have since been too tender to encounter a single shower without danger; and the duties of the Lord's day, which, as far as bodily strength went, I could perform with little fatigue, have since frequently overcome me. But the severe cold I caught in my return from the last Kettering ministers' meeting has affected me so much that I have sometimes concluded I must give up preaching entirely; for though my head and spirits are better than for two years past, yet my stomach is so very weak that I cannot pray in my family without frequent pauses for breath, and in the pulpit it is labour and agony which must be felt to be conceived of. I have however made shift to preach sometimes thrice, but mostly only twice on a Lord's day, till the last, when the morning sermon only, though I delivered it with great pleasure of mind, and with as much caution as to my voice as possible, yet cost me so much labour as threw me into a fever till the next day, and prevented my sleeping all night." In the latter, he thus writes: "Should my life be spared, I and my family, and all my connexions, will stand indebted, under God, to you. Unsuspecting of danger myself, I believe I should have gone on with my exertions, till the grave had received me. Your attention sent Mr. B. (the apothecary) to me, and then I first learned what I have since been increasingly convinced of that I was rapidly destroying the vital principle. And the kind interest you have taken in my welfare ever since has often drawn the grateful tear from my eye. May the God of heaven and earth reward your kindness to his unworthy servant, and save you from all the evils from which your distinguished friendship would have saved me!"
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Such were his ideas. His labours were certainly abundant; perhaps too great for his constitution: but it is probable that nothing was more injurious to his health than a frequent exposure to night air, and an inattention to the necessity of changing damp clothes.
Hitherto we have seen in Mr. Pearce the active, assiduous, and laborious servant of Jesus Christ; but now we see him laid aside from his work, wasting away by slow degrees, patiently enduring the will of God, and cheerfully waiting for his dissolution. And as here is but little to narrate, I shall content myself with copying his letters, or extracts from them, to his friends, in the order of time in which they were written, only now and then dropping a few hints to furnish the reader with the occasions of some of them.
To DR. RYLAND. "Birmingham, Oct. 8, 1798.
"O my dear brother, your letter of the 5th, which I received this morning, has made me thankful for all my pulpit agonies, as they enable me to weep with a weeping brother. They have been of use to me in other respects; particularly in teaching me the importance of attaining and maintaining that spirituality and pious ardour in which I have found the most effectual relief; so that on the whole I must try to 'glory in tribulations also.' I trust I often can when the conflict is past; but to glory 'in' them, especially in mental distress hic labor, hoc opus est.
"But how often has it been found that when ministers have felt themselves most embarrassed the most effectual good has been done to the people! Oh for hearts entirely resigned to the will of God!
"How happy should I be could I always enjoy the sympathies of a brother who is tried in these points as I of late have been!"
To MR. FULLER. "Birmingham, Oct. 29, 1798.
"I caught a violent cold in returning from our last committee-meeting, from which I have not yet recovered. A little thing now affects my constitution, which I once judged would be weather and labour proof for at least thirty years, if I lived so long. I thank God that I am not debilitated by iniquity. I have lately met with an occurrence which occasioned me much pain and perplexity Trials soften our hearts, and make us more fully prize the dear few into whose faithful, sympathizing bosoms we can with confidence pour our sorrows. I think I should bless God for my afflictions, if they produced no other fruit than these the tenderness they inspire, and the friendships they capacitate us to enjoy. Pray, my dear brother, for yours affectionately, S. P."
To a young man, who had applied to him for advice how he should best improve his time, previous to his going to the Bristol Academy:
"Birmingham, Nov. 13,1798.
"MY DEAR M., "I can only confess my regret at not replying to yours at a much earlier period, and assure you that the delay has been accidental, and not designed. I felt the importance of your request for advice I was sensible it deserved some consideration before it was answered. I was full of business at the moment I put it by, and it was forgotten; and now it is too late. The time of your going to Bristol draws nigh. If, instead of an opinion respecting the best way of occupying your time before you go, you will accept a little counsel during your continuance there, I shall be happy at any time to contribute such a mite as my experience and observation have put in my power.
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"At present, the following rules appear of so much moment, that, were I to resume a place in any literary establishment, I would religiously adopt them as the standard of my conduct: First, I would cultivate a spirit of habitual devotion. Warm piety connected with my studies, especially at my entrance upon them, would not only assist me in forming a judgment on their respective importance, and secure the blessing of God upon them; but would so cement the religious feeling with the literary pursuit, as that it might abide with me for life. The habit of uniting these, being once formed, would, I hope, be never lost; and I am sure that, without this, I shall both pursue trivial and unworthy objects, and those that are worthy I shall pursue for a wrong end. Secondly, I would determine on a uniform submission to the instructions of my preceptor, and study those things which would give him pleasure. If he be not wiser than I am, for what purpose do I come under his care? I accepted the pecuniary help of the Society on condition of conforming to its will; and it is the Society's will that my tutor should govern me. My example will have influence: let me not, by a single act of disobedience, or by a word that implicates dissatisfaction, sow the seeds of discord in the bosoms of my companions. Thirdly, I would pray and strive for the power of self-government, to form no plan, to utter not a word, to take no step, under the mere influence of passion. Let my judgment be often asked, and let me always give it time to answer. Let me always guard against a light or trifling spirit; and particularly as I shall be amongst a number of youths whose years will incline them all to the same frailty. Fourthly, I would in all my weekly and daily pursuits observe the strictest order. Always let me act by a plan. Let every hour have its proper pursuit; from which let nothing but a settled conviction that I can employ it to better advantage ever cause me to deviate. Let me have fixed time for prayer, meditation, reading, languages, correspondence, recreation, sleep, &c. Fifthly, I would not only assign to every hour its proper pursuit; but what I did I would try to do with all my might. The hours at such a place are precious beyond conception, till the student enters on life's busy scenes. Let me set the best of my class ever before me, and strive to be better than they. In humility and diligence, let me aim to be the first. Sixthly, I would particularly avoid a versatile habit. In all things I would persevere. Without this, I may be a gaudy butterfly; but never, like the bee, will my hive bear examining. Whatever I take in hand, let me first be sure I understand it, then duly consider it, and, if it be good, let me adopt and use it. "To these, my dear brother, let me add three or four things more minute, but which, I am persuaded, will help you much. Guard against a large acquaintance while you are a student. Bristol friendship, while you sustain that character, will prove a vile thief, and rob you of many an invaluable hour. Get two or three of the students, whose piety you most approve, to meet for one hour in a week for experimental conversation and mutual prayer. I found this highly beneficial, though, strange to tell, by some we were persecuted for our practice! Keep a diary. Once a week at furthest call yourself to an account. What advances you have made in your different studies; in divinity, history, language, natural philosophy, style, arrangement; and, amidst all, do not forget to inquire, Am I more fit to serve and to enjoy God than I was last week?"
On Dec. 2, 1798, he delivered his last sermon. The subject was taken from Dan. x. 19, "O man greatly beloved, fear not: peace be unto thee, be strong, yea, be strong. And when he had spoken unto me, I was strengthened, and said, Let my lord speak; for thou hast strengthened me." "Amongst all the Old Testament saints," said he, in his introduction to that
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discourse, "there is not one whose virtues were more, and whose imperfections were fewer, than those of Daniel. By the history given of him in this book, which yet seems not to be complete, he appears to have excelled among the excellent." Doubtless, no one was further from his thoughts than himself: several of his friends, however, could not help applying it to him, and that with a painful apprehension of what followed soon after.
To MR. CAVE, LEICESTER. "Birmingham, Dec. 4, 1798.
"Blessed be God, my mind is calm; and though my body be weakness itself, my spirits are good, and I can write as well as ever, though I can hardly speak two sentences without a pause. All is well, brother! all is well, for time and eternity. My soul rejoices in the everlasting covenant ordered in all things and sure. Peace from our dear Lord Jesus he with your spirit, as it is (yea, more also) with your affectionate brother. -- S. P."
To MR. NICHOLS, NOTTINGHAM. "Birmingham, Dec. 10, 1798.
"I am now quite laid by from preaching, and am so reduced in my internal strength that I can hardly converse with a friend for five minutes without losing my breath. Indeed, I have been so ill that I thought the next ascent would be, not to a pulpit, but to a throne the throne of glory. Yes, indeed, my friend, the religion of Jesus will support when flesh and heart fail; and, in my worst state of body, my soul was filled with joy. I am now getting a little better, though but very slowly. But fast or slow, or as it may, the Lord doth all things well."
To R. BOWYER, ESQ. "I have overdone myself in preaching. I am now ordered to lie by, and not even to converse, without great care; nor indeed, till to-day, have I for some time been able to utter a sentence without a painful effort. Blessed be God! I have been filled all through my affliction with peace and joy in believing; and at one time, when I thought I was entering the valley of death, the prospect beyond was so full of glory, that, but for the sorrow it would have occasioned to some who would be left behind, I should have longed that moment to have mounted to the skies. O my friend, what a mercy that I am not receiving the wages of sin; that my health has not been impaired by vice; but that, on the contrary, I am bearing in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus! To him be all the praise! Truly, I have proved that God is faithful; and most cheerfully would I take double the affliction for one half of the joy and sweetness which have attended it. Accept a sermon which is this day published." * To MR. BATES AND MRS. BARNES, MINORIES. "Birmingham, Dec. 14, 1798. " . . . . I could tell you much of the Lord's goodness during my affliction. Truly 'his right hand hath been under my head, and his left embraced me.' And when I was at the worst, especially, and expected ere long to have done with time, even then, such holy joy, such ineffable sweetness filled my soul, that I would not have exchanged that situation for any besides heaven itself. O my dear friends, let us live to Christ, and lay ourselves wholly out for
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* The last but one he had ever preached, entitled, MOTIVES TO GRATITUDE. It was delivered on the day of national thanksgiving, and printed at the request of his own congregation.
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him whilst we live; and then, when health and life forsake us, he will be the strength of our heart, and our portion for ever."
About this time the congregation at Cannon Street was supplied for several months by Mr. Ward, who has since gone as a missionary to India. Here that amiable young man became intimately acquainted with Mr. Pearce, and conceived a most affectionate esteem for him. In a letter to a friend, dated Jan. 5, 1799, he writes as follows:
"I am happy in the company of dear brother Pearce. I have seen more of God in him than in any other person I ever knew. Oh how happy should I be to live and die with him! When well, he preaches three times on a Lords day, and two or three times in the week besides. He instructs the young people in the principles of religion, natural philosophy, astronomy, &c. They have a benevolent society, from the funds of which they distribute forty or fifty pounds a year to the poor of the congregation. They have a sick society for visiting the afflicted in general; a book society at chapel; a Lord's day school, at which more than two hundred children are instructed. Add to this, missionary business, visiting the people, an extensive correspondence, two volumes of mission history preparing for the press, &c.; and then you will see something of the soul of Pearce. He is every where venerated, though but a young man; and all the kind, tender, gentle affections make him as a little child at the feet of his Saviour. W. W."
In February, he rode to the opening of a Baptist meeting-house at Bedworth; but did not engage in any of the services. Here several of his brethren saw him for the last time. Soon afterwards, writing to the compiler of these Memoirs, he says, "The Lord's day after I came home I tried to speak a little after sermon. It inflamed my lungs afresh, produced phlegm, coughing, and spitting of blood. Perhaps I may never preach more. Well, the Lord's will he done. I thank him that he ever took me into his service; and now, if he see fit to give me a discharge, I submit."
During the above meeting a word was dropped by one of his brethren which he took as a reflection, though nothing was further from the intention of the speaker. It wrought upon his mind; and in a few days he wrote as follows: "Do you remember what passed at B_____? Had I not been accustomed to receive plain, friendly remarks from you, I should have thought you meant to insinuate a reproof. If you did, tell me plainly. If you did not, it is all at an end. You will not take my naming it unkindly, although I should be mistaken; such affectionate explanations are necessary, when suspicions arise, to the preservation of friendship; and I need not say that I hold the preservation of your friendship in no small account."
The above is copied, not only to set forth the spirit and conduct of Mr. Pearce in a case wherein he felt himself aggrieved, but to show in how easy and amiable a manner thousands of mistakes might be rectified, and differences prevented, by a frank and timely explanation.
To MR. COMFIELD, NORTHAMPTON. "Birmingham, March 4, 1799.
"I could wish my sympathies to be as extensive as human I was going to say (and why not!) as animal misery. The very limited comprehension of the human intelligence forbids this indeed, and whilst I am attempting to participate as far as the news of affliction reaches me, I find the same events do not often produce equal feelings. We measure our sympathies, not by the causes of sorrow, but by the sensibilities of the sorrowful; hence I abound in feeling on your account. The situation of your family must have given distress to a president of any character; but in you it must have
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produced agonies. I know the tenderness of your heart: your feelings are delicately strong. You must feel much, or nothing; and he that knows you, and does not feel much when you feel, must be a brute.
"May the fountain of mercy supply you with the cheering stream. May your sorrow be turned into joy.
"I am sure that I ought to value more than ever your friendship for me. You have remembered me, not merely in my affliction, but in your own. Our friendship, our benevolence, must never be compared with that of Jesus; but it is truly delightful to see the disciple treading, though at a humble distance, in the footsteps of a Master, who, amidst the tortures of crucifixion, exercised forgiveness to his murderers, and the tenderness of filial piety to a disconsolate mother! When we realize the scene, how much do our imaginations embrace the persons the circumstances the words 'Woman, behold thy son; John, behold thy mother!'" By the above letter, the reader will perceive that, while deeply afflicted himself, he felt in the tenderest manner for the afflictions of others.
To MR. FULLER. "March 23,1799."
He was now setting out for Plymouth; and after observing the great danger he was supposed to be in, with respect to a consumption, he adds, "But thanks be to God, who giveth my heart the victory, let my poor body be consumed, or preserved. In the thought of leaving, I feel a momentary gloom; but in the thought of going, a heavenly triumph.
'Oh to grace how great a debtor!' "Praise God with me, and for me, my dear brother, and let us not mind dying any more than sleeping. No, no; let every Christian sing the loudest as he gets the nearest to the presence of his God. Eternally yours in Him who hath washed us both in his blood, S. P."
To MR. MEDLEY, LONDON. "March 23, 1799.
"My affliction has been rendered sweet by the supports and smiles of Him whom I have served in the gospel of his Son. He hath delivered, he doth deliver, and I trust that he will yet deliver. Living or dying, all is well for ever. Oh what shall I render to the Lord!"
It seems that, in order to avoid wounding Mrs. P.'s feelings, he deferred the settlement of his affairs till he arrived at Bristol; whence he wrote to his friend, Mr. King, requesting him to become an executor. Receiving a favourable answer, he replied as follows: "Bristol, April 6, 1799.
" Your letter, just received, affected me too much, with feelings both of sympathy and gratitude, to remain unanswered a single post. Most heartily do I thank you for accepting a service which friendship alone can render agreeable in the most simple cases. Should that service demand your activities at an early period, may no unforeseen occurrence increase the necessary care! But may the Father of the fatherless, and Judge of the widows, send you a recompence into your own bosom, equal to all that friendship to which, under God, I have been so much indebted in life, and reposing on whose bosom, even death itself loses a part of its gloom. In you, my children will find another father in you, my wife another husband. Your tenderness will sympathize with the one, under the most distressing
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sensibilities; and your prudent counsels be a guide to the others, through the unknown mazes of inexperienced youth. Enough blessed God! my soul prostrates, and adores thee for such a friend."
To MR. FULLER. "Plymouth, April 18, 1799.
"The last time that I wrote to you was at the close of a letter sent to you by brother Ryland. I did not like that postscript form; it looked so card-like as to make me fear that you would deem it unbrotherly. After all, perhaps, you thought nothing about it; and my anxieties might arise only from my weakness, which seems to be constantly increasing my sensibilities. If ever I felt love in its tenderness for my friends, it has been since my affliction. This, in a great measure, is no more than the love of 'publicans and harlots, who love those that love them.' I never conceived myself by a hundred degrees so interested in the regards of my friends, as this season of affliction has manifested I was; and therefore, so far from claiming any 'reward' for loving them in return, I should account myself a monster of ingratitude were it otherwise. Yet there is something in affliction itself, which, by increasing the delicacy of our feelings, and detaching our thoughts from the usual round of objects which present themselves to the mind when in a state of health, may be easily conceived to make us susceptible of stronger and more permanent impressions of an affectionate nature.
"I heard at Bristol that you and your friends had remembered me in your prayers, at Kettering. Whether the Lord whom we serve may see fit to answer your petitions on my account, or not, may they at least be returned into your own bosoms.
"For the sake of others I should be happy could I assure you that my health was improving. As to myself, I thank God that I am not without a desire to depart, and to be with Christ, which is far better. I find that neither in sickness, nor in health, I can be so much as I wish like Him whom I love. 'To die is gain:' oh to gain that state, those feelings, that character, which perfectly accord with the mind of Christ, and are attended with the full persuasion of his complete and everlasting approbation! I want no heaven but this; and, to gain this, most gladly would I this moment expire. But if to abide in the flesh he more needful for an individual of my fellow men, Lord, let thy will be done; only let Christ be magnified by me, whether in life or death!
"The weather has been so wet and windy since I have been at Plymouth, that I could not reasonably expect to be much better; and I cannot say that I am much worse. All the future is uncertain. Professional men encourage me; but frequent returns appear, and occasional discharges of blood check my expectations. If I speak but for two minutes, my breast feels as sore as though it were scraped with a rough-edged razor; so that I am mute all the day long, and have actually learned to converse with my sister by means of our fingers.
"I thank you for yours of April 4th, which I did not receive till the 12th, the day that I arrived at Plymouth. On the 16th, a copy of yours to brother Ryland came to hand, to which I should have replied yesterday, but had not leisure. I am happy and thankful for your success. May the Lord himself pilot the 'Criterion' safely to Calcutta river.
"Unless the Lord work a miracle for me, I am sure that I shall not be able to attend the Olney meeting. It is to my feelings a severe anticipation; but how can I be a Christian, and not submit to God?"
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To MR. WM. WARD. "Plymouth, April 22, 1799.
"Most affectionately do I thank you for your letter, so full of information and of friendship. To our common Friend, who is gone into heaven, where he ever sitteth at the right hand of God for us, I commend you. Whether I die, or live, God will take care of you till he has ripened you for the common salvation. Then shall I meet my dear brother Ward again; and who can tell how much more interesting our intercourse in heaven will be made by the scenes that most distress our poor spirits here? Oh, had I none to live for, I had rather die than live, that I may be at once like Him whom I love. But while he insures me grace, why should I regret the delay of glory? No: I will wait his will who performeth all things for me.
"My dear brother, had I strength I should rejoice to acquaint you with the wrestlings and the victories, the hopes and the fears, the pleasures and the pangs, which I have lately experienced. But I must forbear. All I can now say is that God hath done me much good by all, and made me very thankful for all he has done.
"Alas! I shall see you no more. I cannot be at Olney on the 7th of May. The journey would be my death. But the Lord whom you serve will be with you then, and for ever. My love to all the dear assembled saints, who will give you their benedictions at that solemn season."
To DR. RYLAND. "Plymouth, April 24,1799.
"VERY DEAR BROTHER, "My health is in much the same state as when I wrote last, excepting that my muscular strength rather increases, and my powers of speaking seem less and less every week. I have, for the most part, spoken only in whispers for several days past; and even these seem too much for my irritable lungs. My father asked me a question to-day; he did not understand me when I whispered; so I was obliged to utter one word, and one word only, a little louder, and that brought on a soreness, which I expect to feel till bedtime.
"I am still looking out for fine weather; all here is cold and rainy. We have had but two or three fair and warm days since I have been here; then I felt better. I am perfectly at a loss even to guess what the Lord means to do with me; but I desire to commit my ways to him, and be at peace. I am going to-day about five miles into the country, (to Tamerton,) where I shall await the will of God concerning me.
"I knew not of any committee-meeting of our Society to be held respecting Mr. Marshman and his wife. I have therefore sent no vote, and, indeed, it is my happiness that I have full confidence in my brethren, at this important crisis, since close thinking, or much writing, always increases my fever, and promotes my complaint.
"My dear brother, I hope you will correspond much with Kettering. I used to he a medium; but God has put me out of the way. I could weep that I can serve him no more; and yet I fear some would be tears of pride. Oh for perfect likeness to my humble Lord!
To MR. KING. "Tamerton, May 2, 1799.
". . . . Give my love to all the dear people at Cannon Street. O pray that He who afflicts would give me patience to endure. Indeed, the state of suspense in which I have been kept so long requires much of it; and I often exclaim, ere I am aware, O my dear people! O my dear family! when shall I be restored to you again? The Lord forgive all the sin of my desires!
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At times I feel a sweet and perfect calm, and wish ever to live under the influence of a belief in the goodness of God, and of all his plans, and all his works."
The reader has seen how much he regretted being absent from the solemn designation of the missionaries at Olney. He, however, addressed the following lines to Mr. Fuller, which were read at the close of that meeting, to the dissolving of nearly the whole assembly in tears:
"Tamerton, May 2, 1799.
". . . . Oh that the Lord, who is unconfined by place or condition, may copiously pour out upon you all the rich effusions of his Holy Spirit on the approaching day! My most hearty love to each missionary who may then encircle the throne of grace. Happy men! Happy women! You are going to he fellow labourers with Christ himself! I congratulate I almost envy you; yet I love you, and can scarcely now forbear dropping a tear of love as each of your names passes across my mind. Oh what promises are yours; and what a reward! Surely heaven is filled with double joy, and resounds with unusual acclamations, at the arrival of each missionary there. O be faithful, my dear brethren, my dear sisters, be faithful unto death, and all this joy is yours! Long as I live, my imagination will be hovering over you in Bengal; and, should I die, if separate spirits be allowed a visit to the world they have left,.methinks mine would soon be at Mudnabatty, watching your labours, your conflicts, and your pleasures, whilst you are always abounding in the work of the Lord."
To DR. RYLAND. "Plymouth, May 14, 1799.
"MY DEAR BROTHER, "Yours of the 11th instant I have just received, and thank you for your continued concern for your poor unworthy brother.
"I have suffered much in my health since I wrote to you last, by the increase of my feverish complaint, which filled me with heat and horror all night, and in the day sometimes almost suffocated me with the violence of its paroxysms. I am extremely weak; and now that warm weather, which I came into Devon to seek, I dread as much as the cold, because it excites the fever. I am happy however in the Lord. I have not a wish to live or die, but as he pleases. I truly enjoy the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, and would not be without his Divine atonement, whereon to rest my soul, for ten thousand worlds. I feel quite weaned from earth, and all things in it. Death has lost his sting, the grave its horrors, and the attractions of heaven, I had almost said, are sometimes violent.
'Oh to grace how great a debtor!'
"But I am wearied. May all grace abound towards my dear brother, and his affectionate S. P."
TO THE CHURCH IN CANNON STREET. "Plymouth, May 31, 1799.
"To the dear people of my charge, the flock of Christ, assembling in Cannon Street, Birmingham, their afflicted but affectionate pastor, presents his love in Christ Jesus, the great Shepherd of the sheep.
"MY DEAREST, DEAREST FRIENDS AND BRETHREN, "Separated as I have been a long time from you, and during that time of separation having suffered much both in body and mind, yet my heart has still been with you, participating in your sorrows, uniting in your prayers,
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and rejoicing with you in the hope of that glory to which Divine faithfulness has engaged to bring us, and for which our heavenly Father, by all his providences and by every operation of his Holy Spirit, is daily preparing us.
"Never, my dear brethren, did I so much rejoice in our being made partakers of the heavenly calling as during my late afflictions. The sweet thoughts of glory, where I shall meet my dear Lord Jesus, with all his redeemed ones, perfectly freed from all that sin which now burdens us and makes us groan from day to day, this transports my soul, whilst out of weakness I am made strong, and at times am enabled to glory even in my bodily infirmities, that the power of Christ, in supporting when flesh and heart fail, may the more evidently rest upon me. O my dear brethren and sisters, let me, as one alive almost from the dead, let me exhort you to stand fast in that blessed gospel which for ten years I have now preached among you -- the gospel of the grace of God; the gospel of God; the gospel of free, full, everlasting salvation, founded on the sufferings and death of God manifest in the flesh. Look much at this all amazing scene!
'Behold! a God descends and dies
to save my soul from gaping hell;'
and then say, whether any poor broken-hearted sinner need be afraid to venture his hopes of salvation on such a sacrifice; especially since He who is thus mighty to save hath said that 'whosoever cometh to him he will in no wise cast out.' You, beloved, who have found the peace- speaking virtue of this blood of atonement, must not be satisfied with what you have already known or enjoyed. The only way to be constantly happy, and constantly prepared for the most awful changes which we must all experience, is, to be constantly looking and coming to a dying Saviour; renouncing all our own worthiness; cleaving to the loving Jesus as our all in all; giving up every thing, however valuable to our worldly interests, that clashes with our fidelity to Christ; begging that of his fulness we may receive 'grace upon grace,' whilst our faith actually relies on his power and faithfulness, for the full accomplishment of every promise in his word that we plead with him; and guarding against every thing that might for a moment bring distance and darkness between your souls and your precious Lord. If you thus live, (and oh that you may daily receive fresh life from Christ so to do!) 'the peace of God will keep your hearts and minds,' and you will be filled with 'joy unspeakable and full of glory.'
"As a church, you cannot conceive what pleasure I have enjoyed in hearing that you are in peace, that you attend prayer-meetings, that you seem to be stirred up of late for the honour and prosperity of religion. Go on in these good ways, my beloved friends, and assuredly the God of peace will be with you. Yea, if after all I should he taken entirely from you, yet God will surely visit you, and never leave you, nor forsake you.
"As to my health, I seem on the whole to be still mending, though but very slowly. The fever troubles me often, both by day and night, but my strength increases. I long to see your faces in the flesh; yea, when I thought myself near the gates of the grave, I wished, if it were the Lords will, to depart among those whom I so much loved. But I am in good hands, and all must be right.
"I thank both you and the congregation most affectionately for all the kindness you have shown respecting me and my family during my absence. The Lord return it a thousand-fold! My love to every one, both old and young, rich and poor, as though named. The Lord bless to your edification the occasional ministry which you enjoy. I hope you regularly attend upon it, and keep together, as 'the horses in Pharaoh's chariot.' I pray
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much for you; pray, still pray, for your very affectionate, though unworthy, pastor."
In a postscript to Mr. King, he says, "I have made an effort to write this letter: my affections would take no denial; but it has brought on the fever."
Towards the latter end of May, when Mr. Ward and his companions were just ready to set sail, a consultation concerning Mr. Pearce was held on board the Criterion, in which all the missionaries and some of the members of the Baptist Missionary Society were present. It was well known that he had for several years been engaged in preparing materials for a History of Missions, to be comprised in two volumes octavo; and as the sending of the gospel amongst the heathen had so deeply occupied his heart, considerable expectations had been formed by religious people of his producing an interesting work on the subject. The question now was, Could not this performance be finished by other hands, and the profits of it be appropriated to the benefit of Mr. Pearce's family? It was admitted by all that this work would, partly from its own merits, and partly from the great interest which the author justly possessed in the public esteem, be very productive; and that it would be a delicate and proper method of enabling the religious public, by subscribing liberally to it, to afford substantial assistance to the family of this excellent man. The result was, that one of the members of the Society addressed a letter to Mr. Pearce's relations at Plymouth, requesting them to consult him, as he should be able to bear it, respecting the state of his manuscripts, and to inquire whether they were in a condition to admit of being finished by another hand; desiring them also to assure him, for his present relief concerning his dear family, that whatever the hand of friendship could effect on their behalf should be accomplished. The answer, though it left no manner of hope as to the accomplishment of the object, yet is so expressive of the reigning dispositions of the writers heart, as an affectionate husband, a tender father, a grateful friend, and a sincere Christian, that it cannot be uninteresting to the reader:
"Tamerton, June 24, 1799.
"To use the common introduction of 'dear brother' would fall so far short of my feelings towards a friend whose uniform conduct has ever laid so great a claim to my affection and gratitude, but whose recent kindness -- kindness in adversity kindness to my wife kindness to my children kindness that would go far to 'smooth the bed of death,' has overwhelmed my whole soul in tender thankfulness, and engaged my everlasting esteem. I know not how to begin . . . . 'Thought is poor, and poor expression.' The only, thing that lay heavy on my heart, when in the nearest prospect of eternity, was the future situation of my family. I had but a comparatively small portion to leave behind me, and yet that little was the all that an amiable woman, delicately brought up, and, through mercy, for the most part comfortably provided for since she entered on domestic life, with five babes to feed, clothe, and educate, had to subsist on. Ah, what a prospect! Hard and long I strove to realize the promises made to the widows and the fatherless; but these alone I could not fully rest on and enjoy. For my own part, God was indeed very gracious. I was willing, I hope, to linger in suffering, if I might thereby most glorify him; and death was an angel whom I longed to come and embrace me, 'cold' as his embraces are; but how could I leave those who were dearest to my heart in the midst of a world in which although thousands now professed friendship for me, and, on my account, for mine; yet, after my decease, would, with few exceptions, soon forget my widow and my children, among the crowds of the needy and distressed. It was at
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this moment of painful sensibility that your heart meditated a plan to remove my anxieties a plan too that would involve much personal labour before it could be accomplished. 'Blessed be God who put it into thy heart, and blessed be thou.' May the blessing of the widow and the fatherless rest on you and yours for ever. Amen and amen!
"You will regret perhaps that I have taken up so much respecting yourself; but I have scarcely gratified the shadow of my wishes. Excuse then, on the one hand, that I have said so much; and accept, on the other, what remains unexpressed.
"My affections and desires are among my dear people at Birmingham; and, unless I find my strength increase here, I purpose to set out for that place in the course of a fortnight, or at most a month. The journey, performed by short stages, may do me good; if not, I expect when the winter comes to sleep in peace! and it will delight my soul to see them once more before I die. Besides, I have many little arrangements to make among my books and papers, to prevent confusion after my decease. Indeed, till I get home, I cannot fully answer your kind letter; but I fear that my materials consist so much in references which none but myself would understand, that a second person could not take it up and prosecute it. I am still equally indebted to you for a proposal so generous, so laborious.
"Rejoice with me that the blessed gospel still 'bears my spirits up.' I am become familiar with the thoughts of dying. I have taken my leave often of the world, and, thanks be to God, I do it always with tranquillity, and often with rapture. Oh what grace, what grace it was that ever called me to be a Christian! What would have been my present feelings if I were going to meet God with all the filth and load of my sin about me! But God in my nature hath put my sin away, taught me to love him, and long for his appearing. O my dear brother, how consonant is everlasting praise with such a great salvation!"
After this, another letter was addressed to Mr. Pearce, informing him more particularly that the above proposal did not originate with an individual, but with several of the brethren who dearly loved him, and had consulted on the business; and that it was no more than an act of justice to one who had spent his life in serving the public; also requesting him to give directions by which his manuscripts might be found and examined, lest he should be taken away before his arrival at Birmingham. To this he answered as follows: --
"Plymouth, July 6, 1799.
"I need not repeat the growing sense I have of your kindness, and yet I know not how to forbear.
"I cannot direct Mr. K_____ to all my papers, as many of them are in books from which I was making extracts; and if I could, I am persuaded that they are in a state too confused, incorrect, and unfinished, to suffer you or any other friend to realize your kind intentions.
"I have possessed a tenacious memory. I have begun one part of the history; read the necessary books; reflected; arranged; written perhaps the introduction, and then trusting to my recollection, with a revisal of the books as I should want them, have employed myself in getting materials for another part, &c. Thus, till my illness, the volumes existed in my head my books were at hand, and I was on the eve of writing them out, when it pleased God to make me pause; and as close thinking has been strongly forbidden me, I dare say that were I again restored to health I should find it necessary to go over much of my former reading to refresh my memory.
"It is now Saturday. On Monday next we purpose setting out on our
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return. May the Lord prosper our way! Accept the sincere affection, and the ten thousand thanks, of your brother in the Lord, S. P."
As the manuscripts were found to be in such a state that no person, except the author himself, could finish them, the design was necessarily dropped. The public mind, however, was deeply impressed with Mr. Pearce's worth; and that which the friendship of a few could not effect has since been amply accomplished by the liberal exertions of many.
To MR. BIRT. "Birmingham, July 26, 1799.
"It is not with common feelings that I begin a letter to you. Your name brings so many interesting circumstances of my life before me, in which your friendship has been so uniformly and eminently displayed, that now, amidst the imbecilities of sickness and the serious prospect of another world, my heart is overwhelmed with gratitude, whilst it glows with affection, an affection which eternity shall not annihilate, but improve.
" We reached Bristol on the Friday after we parted from you, having suited our progress to my strength and spirits. We staid with Bristol friends till Monday, when we pursued our journey, and went comfortably on till the uncommonly rough road from Tewkesbury to Evesham quite jaded me; and I have not yet recovered from the excessive fatigue of that miserable ride. At Alcester we rested a day and a half; and, through the abundant goodness of God, we safely arrived at Birmingham on Friday evening, the 19th of July.
"I feel an undisturbed tranquillity of soul, and am cheerfully waiting the will of God. My voice is gone, so that I cannot whisper without pain; and of this circumstance I am at times most ready to complain. For, to see my dear and amiable Sarah look at me, and then at the children, and at length bathe her face in tears, without my being able to say one kind word of comfort, Oh!! . . . . Yet the Lord supports me under this also; and I trust will support me to the end."
To MR. ROCK. "July 24, 1799.
". . . . I am now to all appearance within a few steps of eternity. In Christ I am safe. In him I am happy. I trust we shall meet in heaven."
To R. BOWYER, Esq. "Birmingham, Aug. 1, 1799.
"Much disappointed that I am not released from this world of sin, and put in possession of the pleasures enjoyed by the spirits of just men made perfect, I once more address my dear fellow heirs of that glory which, ere long, shall be revealed to us all.
"We returned from Devon last Friday week. I was exceedingly weak, and for several days afterwards got rapidly worse. My friends compelled me to try another physician. I am still told that I shall recover. Be that as it may, I wish to have my own will annihilated, that the will of the Lord may be done. Through his abundant grace, I have been, and still am, happy in my soul; and I trust my prevailing desire is that, living or dying, I may be the Lord's."
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To R. BOWYER, Esq. On his having sent him a print of Mr. SCHWARTZ, the missionary on the Malabar coast. "Birmingham, Aug. 16, 1799.
"On three accounts was your last parcel highly acceptable. It represented a man whom I have long been in the habit of loving and revering; and whose character and labours I intended, if the Lord had not laid his hand, upon me by my present illness, to have presented to the public in Europe, as he himself presented them to the millions of Asia. The execution, bearing so strong a likeness to the original, heightened its value. And then the hand from whence it came, and the friendship it was intended to express, add to its worth."
To MR. FULLER. "Birmingham, Aug. 19, 1799.
"The doctor has been making me worse and weaker for three weeks. In the middle of the last week he spoke confidently of my recovery; but to-day he has seen fit to alter his plans; and if I do not find a speedy alteration for the better, I must have done with all physicians but Him who 'healeth the broken in heart.'
"For some time after I came home, I was led to believe my case to be consumptive; and then, thinking myself of a certainty near the kingdom of heaven, I rejoiced hourly in the delightful prospect.
"Since then I have been told that I am not in a dangerous way; and though I give very little credit to such assertions in this case, yet I have found my mind so taken up with earth again, that I seem as though I had another soul. My spiritual pleasures are greatly interrupted, and some of the most plaintive parts of the most plaintive psalms seem the only true language of my heart. Yet, 'Thy will be done,' I trust, prevails; and if it be the Lord's will that I linger long, and suffer much, O let him give me the patience of hope, and still, his will be done! I can write no more. This is a whole day's work; for it is only after tea that, for a few minutes, I can sit up, and attend to any thing."
From the latter end of August, and all through the month of September, to the 10th of October, the day on which he died, he seems to have been unable to write. He did not, however, lose the exercise of his mental powers; and though, in the last of the above letters, he complains of darkness, it appears that he soon recovered that peace and joy in God by which his affliction, and even his life, were distinguished.
A little before he died, he was visited by Mr. Medley, of London, with whom he had been particularly intimate on his first coming to Birmingham. Mr. Pearce was much affected at the sight of his friend, and continued silently weeping for nearly ten minutes, holding and pressing his hand. After this, he spoke, or rather whispered, as follows: "This sick bed is a Beth-el to me; it is none other than the house of God, and the gate of heaven. I can scarcely express the pleasures that I have enjoyed in this affliction. The nearer I draw to my dissolution, the happier I am. It scarcely can be called an affliction, it is so counterbalanced with joy. You have lost your pious father; tell me how it was." Here Mr. Medley informed him of particulars. He wept much at the recital, and especially at hearing of his last words, "Home, home!" Mr. Medley telling him of some temptations he had lately met with, he charged him to keep near to God. "Keep close to God," said he, "and nothing will hurt you!"
The following letters and narrative were read by Dr. Ryland at the close
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of his funeral sermon; and being printed at, the end of it, were omitted in some of the former editions of the Memoirs.
To DR. RYLAND. "Birmingham, Dec. 9, 1798. Lord's-day Evening.
"MY DEAR BROTHER, "After a sabbath such a one I never knew before spent in an entire seclusion from the house and ordinances of my God, I seek Christian converse with you, in a way in which I am yet permitted to have intercourse with my brethren. The day after I wrote to you last, my medical attendant laid me under the strictest injunctions not to speak again in public for one month at least. He says that my stomach is become so irritable through repeated inflammations, that conversation, unless managed with great caution, would be dangerous; that he does not think my present condition alarming, provided I take rest; but, without that, he intimated my life was in great danger. He forbids my exposing myself to the evening air, on any account, and going out of doors, or to the door, unless when the air is dry and clear; so that I am, during the weather we now have in Birmingham, (very foggy,) a complete prisoner; and the repeated cautions from my dear and affectionate friends, whose solicitude, I conceive, far exceeds the danger, compels me to a rigid observance of the doctor's rules.
"This morning brother Pope took my place; and, in the afternoon, Mr. Brewer (who has discovered uncommon tenderness and respect for me and the people, since he knew my state) preached a very affectionate sermon from 1 Samuel iii. 18 'It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good.' By what I hear, his sympathizing observations, in relation to the event which occasioned his being then in my pulpit, drew more tears from the people's eyes than a dozen such poor creatures as their pastor could deserve. But I have, . . . . blessed be God, long had the satisfaction of finding myself embosomed in friendship . . . . the friendship of the people of my charge; though I lament their love should occasion them a pang . . . . but thus it is . . . . our heavenly Father sees that, for our mixed characters, a mixed state is best.
"I anticipated a day of gloom; but I had unexpected reason to rejoice, that the shadow of death was turned into the joy of the morning; and though I said, with perhaps before unequalled feeling, 'How amiable are thy tabernacles!' yet I found the God of Zion does not neglect the dwellings of Jacob. My poor wife was much affected at so novel a thing as leaving me behind her, and so it was a dewy morning; but the Sun of Righteousness soon arose, and shed such ineffable delight throughout my soul, that I could say, 'It is good to be here.' Motive to resignation and gratitude also crowded upon motive, till my judgment was convinced that I ought to rejoice in the Lord exceedingly, and so my whole soul took its fill of joy. May I, if it be my Saviour's will, feel as happy when I come to die. When my poor Sarah lay at the point of death, for some days after her first lying-in, toward the latter days, I enjoyed such support, and felt my will so entirely bowed down to that of God, that I said in my heart, 'I shall never fear another trial . . . . He that sustained me amidst this flame will defend me from every spark!' And this confidence I long enjoyed. But that was nearly six years ago, and I had almost forgotten the land of the Hermonites and the hill Mizar. But the Lord has prepared me to receive a fresh display of his fatherly care, and his (shall I call it?) punctilious veracity. If I should be raised up again, I shall be able to preach on the faithfulness of God more experimentally than ever. Perhaps some trial is coming on, and I am to be instrumental in preparing them for it; or if not, if I am to depart hence to be no more seen, I
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know the Lord can carry on his work as well without me as with me. He who redeemed the sheep with his blood will never suffer them to perish for want of shepherding, especially since he himself is the chief Shepherd of souls. But my family Ah, there I find my faith but still imperfect. However, I do not think the Lord will ever take me away till he helps me to leave my fatherless children in his hands, and trust my widow also with him. 'His love in times past,' and I may add in times present too, 'forbids me to think he will leave me at last in trouble to sink.'
"Whilst my weakness was gaining ground, I used to ask myself how I could like to be laid by? I have dreamed that this was the case; and both awake and asleep I felt as though it were an evil that could not be borne: but now I find the Lord can fit the back to the burden; and though I think I love the thought of serving Christ at this moment better than ever, yet he has made me willing to be . . . . nothing, if he please to have it so; and now my happy heart 'could sing itself away to everlasting bliss.'
"Oh what a mercy that I have not brought on my affliction by serving the devil! What a mercy that I have so many dear sympathizing friends! What a mercy that I have so much dear domestic comfort! What a mercy that I am in no violent bodily pain! What a mercy that I can read and write without. doing myself an injury! What a mercy that my animal spirits have all the time this has been coming on (ever since the last Kettering meeting of ministers) been vigorous free from dejection! And, which I reckon among the greatest of this day's privileges, what a mercy that I have been able to employ myself for Christ and his dear cause to-day; as I have been almost wholly occupied in the concerns of the (I hope) reviving church at Broomsgrove, and the infant church at Cradley! O my dear brother, it is all mercy; is it not? O help me then in his praise, for he is good, for his mercy endureth for ever.
"Ought I to apologize for this experimental chat with you, who have concerns to transact of so much more importance than any that are confined to an individual? Forgive me, if I have intruded too much on your time -- but do not forget to praise on my behalf a faithful God. I shall now leave room against I have some business to write about till then adieu but let us not forget that 'this God is our God for ever and ever, and will be our guide even until death.' Amen. Amen. We shall soon meet in heaven."
To MR. KING. "Plymouth, April 23, 1799.
"MY DEAR FRIEND AND BROTHER, "I have the satisfaction to inform you that at length my complaint appears to be removed, and that I am by degrees returning to my usual diet, by which, with the Divine blessing, I hope to be again strengthened for the discharge of the duties and the enjoyment of the pleasures which await me among the dear people of my charge.
"I am indeed informed, by a medical attendant here, that I shall never be equal to the labours of my past years, and that my return to moderate efforts must be made by slow degrees. As the path of duty, I desire to submit; but, after so long a suspension from serving the Redeemer in his church, my soul pants for usefulness more extensive than ever, and I long to become an apostle to the world. I do not. think I ever prized the ministerial work so much as I now do. Two questions have been long before me. The first was, Shall I live or die? The second, If I live, how will my life be spent? With regard to the former, my heart answered, 'It is no matter all is well for my own sake, I need not be taught that it is best to be with Christ; but, for the sake of others, it may be best to abide in the body. I
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am in the Lord's hands, let him do by me as seemeth him best for me and mine, and for his cause and honour in the world! -- But as to the second question, I could hardly reconcile myself to the thoughts of living, unless it were to promote the interest of my Lord; and if my disorder should so far weaken me as to render me incapable of the ministry, nothing then appeared before me but gloom and darkness. However, I will hope in the Lord, that though he hath chastened me sorely, yet, since he hath not given me over unto death, sparing mercy will be followed with strength, that I may show forth his praise in the land of the living.
"I am still exceedingly weak; more so than at any period before I left home, except the first week of my lying by; but I am getting strength, though slowly. It is impossible at present to fix any time for my return. It grieves me that the patience of the dear people should be so long tried; but the trial is as great on my part as it can be on theirs, and we must pity and pray for one another. It is now a task for me to write at all, or this should have been longer."
To MR. POPE. "Plymouth, May 24, 1799.
"I cannot write much this I believe is the only letter I have written (except to my wife) since I wrote to you last. My complaint has issued in a confirmed, slow, nervous fever; which has wasted my spirits and strength, and taken a great part of the little flesh I had, when in health, away from me. The symptoms have been very threatening, and I have repeatedly thought that, let the physician do what he will, he cannot keep me long from those heavenly joys for which, blessed be God, I have lately been much longing; and were it not for my dear people and family, I should have earnestly prayed for leave to depart, and to be with Christ, which is so much better than to abide in this vain, suffering, sinning world.
"The doctors however now pronounce my case very hopeful say there is little or no danger but that all these complaints require a great deal of time to get rid of. I still feel myself on precarious ground, but quite resigned to the will of him, who, unworthy as I am, continues daily to 'fill my soul with joy and peace in believing.' Yes, my dear friend, now my soul feels the value of a free, full, and everlasting salvation and, what is more, I do enjoy that salvation; while I rest all my hope on the SON OF GOD in human nature dying on the cross for me. To me now, health or sickness, pain or ease, life or death, are things indifferent. I feel so happy, in being in the hands of infinite love, that when the severest strokes are laid upon me, I receive them with pleasure, because they come from my heavenly Father's hands! 'Oh to grace how great a debtor!' &c."
To DR. RYLAND. "Birmingham, July 20, 1799.
"MY VERY DEAR BROTHER, "Your friendly anxieties on my behalf demand the earliest satisfaction. We had a pleasant ride to Newport on the afternoon we left you, and the next day without much fatigue reached Tewkesbury; but the road was so rough from Tewkesbury to Evesham that it wearied and injured me more than all the jolting we had had before put together. However, we reached Alcester on Wednesday evening, stopped there a day to rest, and last night (Friday) were brought safely hither, blessed be God!
"I find myself getting weaker and weaker, and so my Lord instructs me in his pleasure to remove me soon. You say well, my dear brother, that at such a prospect I 'cannot complain.' No, blessed be his dear name who shed his blood for me, he helps me to rejoice at times with joy unspeakable.
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Now I see the value of the religion of the cross. It is a religion for a dying sinner. It is all the most guilty, the most wretched, can desire. Yes, I taste its sweetness and enjoy its fulness with all the gloom of a dying bed before me. And far rather would I be the poor emaciated and emaciating creature that I am than be an emperor, with every earthly good about him but without a God!
"I was delighted the other day, in re-perusing the Pilgrim's Progress, to observe that, when Christian came to the top of the hill Difficulty, be was put to sleep in a chamber called Peace. 'Why how good is the Lord of the way to me!' said I. I have not reached the summit of the hill yet, but, notwithstanding, he puts me to sleep in the chamber of Peace every night . . . . True, it is often a chamber of pain; but, let pain be as formidable as it may, it has never yet been able to expel that peace which the great Guardian of Israel has appointed to keep my heart and mind through Christ Jesus.
"I have been labouring lately to exercise most love to God when I have been suffering most severely: -- but what shall I say? Alas! too often the sense of pain absorbs every other thought. Yet there have been seasons when I have been affected with such a delightful sense of the loveliness of God as to ravish my soul, and give predominance to the sacred passion. It was never till to-day that I got any personal instruction from our Lords telling Peter by 'what death' he should glorify God. Oh what a satisfying thought it is that God appoints those means of dissolution whereby he gets most glory to himself. It was the very thing I needed; for, of all the ways of dying, that which I most dreaded was by a consumption (in which it is now highly probable my disorder will issue). But, O my dear Lord, if by this death I can most glorify thee, I prefer it to all others, and thank thee that by this means thou art hastening my fuller enjoyment of thee in a purer world.
"A sinless state! 'O 'tis a heaven worth dying for!' I cannot realize any thing about heaven, but the presence of Christ and his people, and a perfect deliverance from sin and I want no more I am sick of sinning soon I shall be beyond its power.
'O joyful hour! O blest abode!
I shall be near and like my God!'
"I only thought of filling one side and now have not left room to thank you and dear Mrs. Ryland for the minute, affectionate, and constant attentions you paid us in Bristol. May the Lord reward you. Our hearty love to all around, till we meet in heaven. Eternally yours in Christ, S. P."
"Birmingham, Aug. 4, 1799. Lord's-day Evening.
"MY VERY DEAR BROTHER, "Still, I trust, hastening to the land 'where there shall be no more curse,' I take this opportunity of talking a little with you on the road, for we are fellow travellers; and a little conversation by the way will not lose me the privilege of getting first to the end of my journey.
"It is seventeen years within about a week since I first actually set out on my pilgrimage; and when I review the many dangers to which during that time I have been exposed, I am filled with conviction that I have all along been the care of Omnipotent love. Ah, how many Pliables, and Timorouses, and Talkatives have I seen, while my quivering heart said, 'Alas! I shall soon follow these sons of apostacy, prove a disgrace to religion, and have my portion with hypocrites at last.'
"These fears may have had their uses may have made me more cautious, more distrustful of myself, and kept me more dependent on the Lord. Thus
'All that I've met has worked for my good.'
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"With what intricacy to our view, and yet with what actual skill and goodness, does the Lord draw his plans, and mark out our path! Here we wonder and complain. Soon we shall all agree that it was a right path to the city of habitation; and what we now most deeply regret shall become the subject of our warmest praises.
"I am afraid to come back again to life. Oh how many dangers await me! Perhaps I may be overcome of some fleshly lust perhaps I may get proud and indolent, and be more of the priest than of the evangelist surely I rejoice in feeling my outward man decay, and having the sentence of death in myself. Oh what prospects are before me in the blessed world whither I am going! To be holy as God is holy -- to have nothing but holiness in my nature to be assured, without a doubt, and eternally to carry about this assurance with me, that the pure God looks on me with constant complacency, for ever blesses me, and says, as at the first creation, 'It is very good.' I am happy now in hoping in the Divine purposes towards me; but I know, and the thought is my constant burden, that the Being I love best always sees something in me which he infinitely hates. 'O wretched, wretched man that I am!' The thought even now makes me weep; and who can help it that seriously reflects he never comes to God, to pray or praise, but he brings what his God detests along with him, carries it with him wherever he goes, and can never get rid of it as long as he lives? Come, my dear brother, will you not share my joy and help my praise, that soon I shall leave this body of sin and death behind, to enter on the perfection of my spiritual nature; and patiently to wait till this natural body shall become a spiritual body, and so be a fit vehicle for my immortal and happy spirit.
"But I must forbear I have been very unwell all day; but this evening God has kindly given me a respite my fever is low and my spirits are cheerful, so I have indulged myself in unbosoming my feelings to my dear friend."
MEMORANDA.
Taken down occasionally by Mrs. Pearce, within four or five weeks of Mr. Pearce's death.
He once said, "I have been in darkness two or three days, crying, Oh when wilt thou comfort me? But last night the mist was taken from me, and the Lord shone in upon my soul. Oh that I could speak! I would tell a world to trust a faithful God. Sweet affliction, now it worketh glory, glory!"
Mrs. P. having told him the various exercises of her mind, he replied, "O trust the Lord: if he lifts up the light of his countenance upon you, as he has done upon me this day, all your mountains will become molehills. I feel your situation, I feel your sorrows; but he who takes care of sparrows will care for you and my dear children."
When scorching with burning fever, he said, "Hot and happy." One Lord's-day morning he said, "Cheer up, my dear, think how much will be said to-day of the faithfulness of God. Though we are called to separate, he will never separate from you. I wish I could tell the world what a good and gracious God he is. Never need they who trust in him be afraid of trials. He has promised to give strength for the day; that is his promise. Oh what a lovely God! and he is my God and yours. He will never leave us nor forsake us, no never! I have been thinking that this and that medicine will do me good, but what have I to do with it? It is in my Jesus's hands; he will do it all, and there I leave it. What a mercy is it I have a good bed to lie upon; you, my dear Sarah, to wait upon me, and friends to pray for me! Oh how thankful should I be for all my pains! I want for nothing; all my wishes are anticipated. Oh I have felt the force of those words of
[p. 428]One morning Mrs. P. asked him how he felt. "Very ill, but unspeakably happy in the Lord, and my dear Lord Jesus." Once beholding her grieving, he said, "O my dear Sarah, do not be so anxious, but leave me entirely in the hands of Jesus, and think, if you were as wise as he, you would do the same by me. If he takes me, I shall not be lost; I shall only go a little before: we shall meet again never to part."
After a violent fit of coughing he said, "It is all well. Oh what a good God is he! It is done by him, and it must be well. If I ever recover, I shall pity the sick more than ever; and if I do not, I shall go to sing delivering love; so you see it will be all well. Oh for more patience! Well, my God is the God of patience, and he will give me all I need. I rejoice it is in my Jesus's hands to communicate, and it cannot be in better. It is my God who gives me patience to bear all his will."
When, after a restless night, Mrs. P. asked him what she should do for him, "You can do nothing but pray for me, that I may have patience to bear all my Lord's will." -- After taking a medicine he said, "If it be the Lord's will to bless it, for your sake, and for the sake of the dear children . . . . but the Lord's will be done. Oh I fear I sin, I dishonour God by impatience; but I would not for a thousand worlds sin in a thought if I could avoid it." Mrs. P. replied, she trusted the Lord would still keep him; seeing he had brought him thus far, he would not desert him at last. "No, no," he said, "I hope he will not. As a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him. Why do I complain? My dear Jesus's sufferings were much sorer and more bitter than mine. 'And did he thus suffer, and shall I repine?' No; I will cheerfully suffer my Father's will."
One morning, after being asked how he felt, he replied, "I have but one severe pain about me; what a mercy! Oh how good a God to afford some intervals amidst so much pain! He is altogether good. Jesus lives, my dear, and that must be our consolation." After taking a medicine which operated very powerfully, he said, "This will make me so much lower; well, let it be. Multiply my pains, thou good God; so thou art but glorified, I care not what I suffer: all is right."
Being asked how he felt after a restless night, he replied, "I have so much weakness and pain, I have not had much enjoyment; but I have a full persuasion that the Lord is doing all things well. If it were not for strong confidence in a lovely God, I must sink; but all is well. O blessed God, I would not love thee less. O support a sinking worm! Oh what a mercy to be assured that all things are working together for good!"
Mrs. P. saying, If we must part, I trust the separation will not be for ever 'Oh no,' he replied, "we sorrow not as those who have no hope." She said, Then you can leave me and your dear children with resignation, can you? He answered, "My heart was pierced through with many sorrows, before I could give you and the dear children up; but the Lord has heard me say, Thy will be done; and I now can say (blessed be his dear name!) I have none of my own."
His last day, October 10th, was very happy. Mrs. P. repeated this verse,
"Since all that I meet shall work for my good,
The bitter is sweet, the medicine is food;
Though painful at present, 'twill cease before long,
And then oh how pleasant the conqueror's song!"
He repeated, with an inexpressible smile, the last line, "The conqueror's song.
He said once, "O my dear! what shall I do? But why do I complain? he makes all my bed in my sickness." She then repeated those lines,
"Jesus can make a dying bed
Feel soft as downy pillows are."
"Yes," he replied, "he can, he does, I feel it." =============== [From Joseph Belcher, editor, The Complete Works of Andrew Fuller, Volume III, 1845, rpt. 1988; pp. 409-428. Document provided by David Oldfield, Post Falls, ID. Scanned and formatted by Jim Duvall.]
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