CHAPTERVII.

After a pleasant passage, having light winds and fine weather, we arrived at Malta on the23dOctober. Here our joy was wonderfully heightened by the news of peace. The news had come from France, but they were credit worthy. The only cause of regret was, that such an important and strongly fortified place as Malta, where we now lay, was to be given up. We did not leave Malta until the26thNovember, at which delay the soldiers were vexed; but the naval officers were no way anxious to get home, because they knew that the ship would be paid off, and they would then lose their situations. Our own officers were apprehensive that the regiment might be reduced, which would put them on half pay; but the men rejoiced in the prospect.[33]We had a tedious passage down the Mediterranean, and did not arrive at Gibraltar until the20dDecember. We left it on the1stJanuary, 1802, and arrived at the Cove of Cork on the23d, having had rough weather all the way, which on two occasions increased to a tempest, and did the ship I was in considerable damage. We had to ride quarantine until the9thFebruary. My leg had stretched considerably during the passage, and I walked about the deck with the help of a stick. The regiment landed, and marched into Cork on the12th, the wounded and baggage being conveyed by water. And here I found that, although I could safely walk about with a stick on the level deck of a ship, my leg was not sufficiently strong to travel the necessary distances on land. My wound here broke out again; and when the regiment left Cork for Kilkenny, although I rode upon the baggage, yet the travelling from the places where the baggage halted to my billet, which was sometimes more than a mile, was injurious to me. We came to Kilkenny on the21st, and lay in it about six weeks. The regiment was inspected by the General and Surgeon of the district, and a great number ordered to be discharged, of which I was one.

My conduct in Kilkenny was not what it ought to have been; not that I fell into open gross sin, but I did not improve my mercies as I ought, and was guilty of what I disallowed in my own conscience, and felt my weakness and inability to overcome the inward workings of corruption. I here bought Young's Night Thoughts, that by reading it, I might fortify my mind against temptation. I placed great confidence in the power of the poet's language; but it had not the effect I wished and expected. I was one evening at the Methodist chapel; but I did not pay that attention to the Sabbath which I might have done. The regiment left Kilkenny, and marched for Belfast; and when we came to Dublin, the discharged men that were recommended to the benefit of Chelsea Hospital, embarked for Liverpool, from which we proceeded to London; where I was examined and admitted an out-pensioner of Chelsea Hospital, on the27thMay, 1802. I left London on the29th, and took a passage in one of the Carron Company's brigs; landed at Queensferry on the12thof June, and arrived in Glasgow next day, happy to find myself restored to my friends.—My wound was still open; I might have gone into York Hospital in London, and been cured, previously to being discharged; and had I been wise, I should have done this: but I was so anxious to be home, that I did not do it, for fear it might delay me some time.

My military life being now terminated, I desire to bless God, with a grateful heart, for his goodness and care over me while in the army, in a particular not before referred to. For during the six years that I was a soldier, I was never confuted for any fault. My conduct was, in general, good, in a military point of view; but there were times that I was guilty of faults, for which I might have been punished, and which I have reason to thank God for escaping. And what is a little singular, I was never concerned in any court martial case, nor so much as a witness against any man; on the whole, I passed comparatively easy and quietly through the army, and without doubt, the remaining restraints of early and religious instruction was one particular mean of preserving me from many evils and dangers; and in this respect proved an invaluable blessing to me, while I was a soldier. I mention this particular to show what good early religious instruction may do, although it may not have the effect of converting the soul.

I had now attained my wishes, by being safely settled at home. God had given me the desire of my heart. If I did not now find ability to keep the commandments of God, in the way that I proposed to myself, and upon which I founded my hope of meriting and enjoying his favour, I could not expect to find any situation more favourable. I called to mind all the promises I had made, and reflected on all the deliverances God had graciously given me, and the gratitude that was due to him for them. Circumstances led me to attend Mr. Ewing's ministry at the Tabernacle; but, although I attended divine ordinances, and read religious books, I was not a whit the better. I had also considerable opportunity of being alone; but where I thought I would be strongest, there I found I was weakest; and, when removed from outward temptation, inward corruption increased, and baffled my utmost efforts. The more I strove to keep my own heart and life from sin, the more sin triumphed over me. I found, in my experience, that I was a slave to sin; for what I set myself to overcome, overcame me. At the same time, the spirituality of God's law increasingly opened on my mind; I daily saw more of the extent of the work I had assigned to myself to perform, in order to obtain the favour of God; and found that my practice, in place of getting nearer, was getting farther from it. When I looked back on the mercies I had received, and the promises and resolutions I had made, I saw that I had all along been mocking God, having never fulfilled any of them. This broke my peace of mind; I became more subject to the terrors of the law than I had ever been; my conscience accused me of the blackest ingratitude; I had no refuge to fly to; my sins became too heavy for me; the justice of God stared me in the face; and now I saw that I was a condemned criminal. I gave over all hope of obtaining the favour of God by my own doings; I resolved to mock him with no more promises of amendment of life; I confessed that hell was what I deserved; that the law which condemned me was just: and, when I did this, the importance of being delivered from such a dreadful situation was increasingly impressed upon my mind: but how to obtain that deliverance I could not tell. I saw by the Scriptures, that "unless a man be born again, he can not enter into the kingdom of God," and that no unholy being shall enter heaven. I prayed earnestly for the new heart and the right spirit, but did not correctly understand in what this change consisted. I passed a considerable time subject to sharp conflicts in my mind, during which, the stings of conscience and the terrors of the law were beyond description: but all was kept within my own breast, without being discerned by any one. My leg continued bad until the beginning of 1803, when I confined myself to bed for some weeks, and had the pleasure once more of seeing it heal. I felt thankful to God for this new mercy; but it added fresh torment to my mind, for it furnished my conscience with new matter of accusation. In perusing Boston's "Fourfold State," I was startled at reading how the branches are taken out of the natural stock. I saw my own case pretty fully described; but as I did not understand what it was to be "apprehended of Christ," and united to the vine, it only increased my uneasiness. I also heard a man in conversation in my company declare, that, before a sinner can be brought to God, the same power behooved to be exerted that converted the apostle Paul. I did not assent to what he said, because I did not believe it; but I marked the saying. I became increasingly uneasy; I had no peace in my mind; eternity was before me; I was without hope, and knew not how to obtain it. "What," said I, "shall become of me!" I was agitated almost to despair; all that prevented me from falling into it was the consideration that I was yet in life, and that God had not forbidden me to cry for mercy: and for mercy I did cry, if peradventure I might find it.

My leg now threatened to break out again.—This alarmed me more, and it prevented me from going, as I had done, to the Tabernacle. The forenoon of the second Sabbath after Albion-street chapel was opened, I passed solitary at home; but I was in a most painful state of mind, of which the agitations can not be described. My convictions of sin were so sharp as to drive me into a state, which, if it was not absolute despair, could hardly be distinguished from it. I could not bear my own presence, and became afraid to be alone. "What shall become of me!" was the unremitting thought of my agitated soul. It at length drove me to my knees; where, with tears, I confessed my sins to God without reserve or palliation; fully acknowledged the righteousness and justice of his law; disclaimed all merit of my own; confessed that I never had any, nor any ability to obtain it; that I was totally unable to do any thing to procure his favour, or to recompense him for it, should he bestow it; and that if I was saved from endless wo, it would be, because he would have mercy on me, out of his own sovereign pleasure, and not on account of any merit of mine. I cast myself upon his pure mercy, and confessed that if there was not pure mercy for sinners, I could have no hope.—When I arose from my knees, it was near the time of the afternoon's service. I felt quite uneasy at home. I thought I would venture as far as to Albion street chapel, because it was at no great distance, and because I had heard my father speaking favourably of you as a preacher. I was the more disposed too to go there, because I knew you were in connexion with Mr. Ewing, of whom I had formed a favourable opinion. When I got to the chapel, I was all attention. When you prayed, I endeavoured to pray also. But nothing particularly affected me, until you gave out your text, 1Cor.ii.2. "For I determined not to know any thing among you, save Jesus Christ and him crucified."—I was struck with the text, and became anxiously attentive, to see if I could catch any thing from the discourse which was to follow, that could give ease to my troubled mind. You had preached from it the preceding sabbath, and having recapitulated what you had gone over, you proceeded to the remainder of the subject; the tenor of which was,the nature of the work that Christ had accomplished in the room of sinners, for their salvation.As you proceeded, I thought I began to discern something I had not seen before.—But when you proved from the Scriptures, that the work which Christ had finished on mount Calvary, was of itself sufficient to save sinners, and that God had accepted his work as satisfactory to him; that, therefore, the work of Christ being perfect, nothing could be added to it; that it was impious to attempt to add any thing to it, and that sinners ought to rest satisfied with that which God had declared was satisfactory to him, seeing he knew best what was necessary to satisfy his justice, and to secure his own honour in pardoning sinners; that no good works were required of the sinner by God, asthe ground of his acceptance with him, either in whole or in part, but that it was the merit of the work of Christ alone, that justified sinners in the sight of a holy God, and that all the praise of their salvation belonged to Christ, and to the grace of God in him; and that sinners should believe this doctrine as good news, and put their trust in it for the salvation they needed.—You I think spoke also of the effect which the faith of this doctrine had on all them that believed it, in leading them to love God, and to keep his commandments. I was greatly enlightened by the whole discourse; but my mind particularly catched the words, that the work of Christ was of itself perfect; that nothing could be taken from it, or added to it; and that it was impious to attempt to add any thing to it.—This doctrine appeared new to me. I thought I had never heard it before. I left the chapel when the service was over, repeating to myself the words, "The work of Christ is perfect, sufficient of itself to save a sinner;" and, as I repeated it, I said, "This is good news if it be true." Another thought now started into my mind:—"If it be true that nothing can be added to it, and that it is impious to attempt it, how guilty have I been!"—My whole train of repentances, promises, resolutions, and attempted reformations, has not only been sinful in the sight of God, on account of their failures, but have been impious acts of rebellion; not on account of my endeavouring to forsake sin, and to cultivate holiness, but on account of the motive that produced them, which was a desire to work out a righteousness of my own, to the rejecting of the righteousness of Christ; placing my works on a level with his, nay, above his; seeking to merit God's favour by my own doings; and when doubting of their complete sufficiency, having recourse to the merits of Christ, merely to make up the deficiency of mine; and even this, not from voluntary choice, but from a feeling of necessity. This was a new source of guilt to my conscience, which had never burdened it before. I began to apprehend I had been guilty of the sin of unbelief, so often spoken of in the Scriptures, and so strongly condemned. But while my conscience accused me of this, a gleam of hope dawned on my soul, by ruminating on the sufficiency of the work of Christ; and the more I pondered on the subject, my hope increased, and the more my hope increased, the stronger my sense of the sin of unbelief grew. These two things kept pace with one another: and while hope cheered my heart, this new sense of guilt made me humble. I did not think less of the guilt of my other sins; but this sin seemed to outweigh them all, so that I became increasingly vile in my own sight.

I read the Scriptures, with prayer to God for light and direction, that I might truly judge the doctrine I had been hearing, and not be led astray by that which was not his own truth. I compared scripture with scripture; and I now found the very great benefit of being acquainted with the letter of the Bible, and of having much of it on my memory. My meditations were greatly assisted by what was stored in it; for when employed at my work, I often recollected passages, and compared them together. All the drift of my thoughts, was to find if there was evidence of the sufficiency of the work of Christ, for a sinner's salvation; and in many of these passages I found such evidence: they appeared to me in a new light; and the sense was so obvious, that I wondered how I had not seen it before. This new discernment gradually increased; and, as my wound did not break out, I continued to attend Mr. Ewing's ministry, and was growing in knowledge by means of his sermons. One of them was particularly blessed to me. It was an evening sermon from Matth. iii. 17. "And lo, a voice from heaven, which said, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." The moment the text was read, I catched the words, "in whom I am well pleased." I saw them, as containing a proof of God's satisfaction in the work of his Son on the behalf of sinners; I followed the preacher through the discourse, and was at no loss to comprehend his meaning; the doctrine was plain and evident to me. I had still, however, some perplexity in my mind, about the nature of the good works to be performed after believing. But this was removed by a sermon from Mr. Greig[34]fromHeb.iii.14. "For we are made partakers of Christ, if we hold the beginning of our confidence steadfast unto the end." My mind now became decided; I saw that if a sinner had Christ, he had all. I was sweetly constrained to give myself wholly up to him; to be content to be saved by his merits, to the entire and eternal exclusion of my own; to place my hope of acceptance with God, both now and hereafter, solely uponhisperfect righteousness, and complete atonement; and to commit my polluted soul to the gracious influence of his Spirit, that he might so apply the blood of Christ, as to "purge it from dead works, to serve the living God." I now saw that deliverance from sin itself, was a part of the salvation of Christ: and I was led to trust in him for sanctification, as well as for righteousness and redemption. I now understood clearly what had puzzled me, when I read the book on Contentment, in Athlone. I was no longer at a loss to understand what it was to be willing to do all things for Christ, and to be willing todenyall things for Christ. I saw that Christ is his people's strength; that the power which enables them to perform duty, to resist temptation, and to overcome their spiritual enemies, is wholly derived from him; that therefore when they conquer their enemies, and bring forth the fruits of righteousness, the glory of the conquest belongs to him through whose strength they have been performed. I therefore esteem it my high privilege as well as duty, to "count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord;" for whom I trust I have, in a measure, been made willing to "suffer the loss of all things, and to count them but dung, that I may win Christ, and be found in him, not having mine own righteousness which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith."Phil.iii.9, 10.

My next concern was, about the question,—What is the proper form of church government?—I had been made a little acquainted with the claims of Episcopacy, and they perplexed me a good deal. Upon the general question, my stock of information was small. This much I knew, that all parties referred a good deal to the Acts of the Apostles, for proofs of their respective opinions; and, as Mr. Ewing had commenced a course of lectures upon that book, I hoped to obtain such information, as should enable me to come to a determination in my own mind. I continued to hear him with a good deal of interest, until he had gone through the fifteenth chapter. I then embraced his opinions on that subject; and, feeling the want of Christian fellowship, I determined to make present conviction the rule of present duty; and seeing that it was the will of Christ that his people should be united together in fellowship, I resolved to apply to Mr. Ewing, for admission to the church under his care. Being at a loss from my ignorance of the mode of application, and entire want of acquaintance with any of the members of his church, I wrote him a letter. This introduced me to a conversation, with which he was satisfied, and my case was to be mentioned to the church at their next meeting. I had no sooner returned home, however, than the words of Jesus, Johniv.36. "And he that reapeth receiveth wages, and gathereth fruit unto life eternal; that both he that soweth and he that reapeth may rejoice together," occurred to my mind.—This led me to remember you, my dear Sir, through whom I had received the knowledge of the truth, and to consider whether there was not a propriety, if not a duty, rather to apply to the church under your care, for admission, than to Mr. Ewing's. I determined to consider this point, and wrote to Mr. Ewing, requesting him to delay mentioning my case to his church, as something had occurred to my mind, which it appeared to be my duty previously to consider, but as soon as I should come to a determination I should let him know. I then attended your preaching, to see whether it would be as beneficial to me as Mr. Ewing's. You were then lecturing in the forenoons through the 1st Epistle of John. As I was but a babe in Christ, doctrinal subjects were what I stood most in need of. I found myself edified by your discourses, and I felt an increasing attachment to you as my spiritual father; and, as we were of one mind on matters of church order, it appeared clearly to be my duty to seek for admission into your church. Every tie of spiritual affection seemed to require it. You had, through the blessing of the great Head of the church, sowed to me the words of eternal life: I, through his blessing, had reaped them; and, as there was no obstacle betwixt us, love said it was most proper, that he that sowed and he that reaped should rejoice together; for where should a convert to the truth seek to be, but under the care of the instrument that converted him? There must be a peculiarity of affection, betwixt a spiritual father and his children, beyond that of others placed under his care and instruction. This peculiar affection had now begun to operate in my mind; for at first I had been so much taken up with the discovery of the truth itself, that I had paid little attention to the instruments who preached it; but I now found leisure to give them a place, in their various degrees, in my affections, without losing any regard for the truth, or for its great Author and object, Jesus Christ, the Chief Shepherd of the sheep. In order therefore to strengthen your hands in the work of an under shepherd, as well as for my own benefit, I drew up a summary narrative of my life and experience, and of the way in which it had pleased the Lord to lead me to a knowledge of his precious truth, and sent it to Mr. Ewing, with the reasons why I thought it my duty to apply for admission to your church. These reasons Mr. Ewing approved of; he gave you that narrative to introduce me to you; and I was soon favoured with being admitted under your pastoral care. The narrative is now greatly enlarged; but before bringing it to a close I wish to make a few general remarks.

I would begin with stating, that the belief of that doctrine which gave peace to my troubled conscience, gave also a degree of stability to my conduct, such as I had never before been able, with my utmost efforts, to attain. Not but that I have still to lament, that sin dwells in me; but, by the grace of God, it does not reign over me, as formerly; and the less I think of myself, and the lower I estimate my own strength, and the more I trust to the gracious promise of imparted strength, from the compassionate and all powerful Redeemer, the stronger I am. Whilst I rejoice in the possession of the new man, I have still to mourn the existence of the old; I find in my experience increasing evidence of the deceitfulness and desperate wickedness of the heart, and see increasing reason to be vile in my own eyes, and to pray continually "God be merciful to me a sinner," but I trust in his grace, that he will "fulfil in me all the good pleasure of his goodness, and the work of faith with power," and "preserve me by his power, through faith unto salvation," enabling me to maintain the war of the spirit against the flesh, until I get a complete and eternal victory.

And here I must express my gratitude to God, for the benefit of Christian fellowship, and of pastoral care and instructions. It is now about sixteen years since I first heard you preach, and became a member of the church under your ministry. We have had our trials, to exercise our forbearance and patience; but we have also had our comforts. I still love the brethren, and while I say, "Grace be to all them who love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity," I wish for no other fellowship; and while I love all who preach Christ crucified, as the only ground of a sinner's acceptance with a holy God, yet I desire no other teacher than he who first turned my wandering feet into the way that leadeth to life. Your instructions and warnings have, I trust, enabled me to keep in that way with my face Zionward. May the Lord grant, that we may continue to walk together, and be, in our respective stations, comforts to each other on the road, until we arrive at the heavenly Jerusalem;—and there may I be one of those, who shall be to you, "a crown of joy and rejoicing in the presence of the Lord!" There may we rejoice together, in the rich mercy of the great Redeemer, and give him all the praise, for converting and preserving grace, both in the convert and in him who was the instrument of his conversion; and may you have many more in whom to rejoice, besides the subject of this narrative! I thank God for the success with which he has been pleased to bless your labours. There are not a few, who now sit under your ministry, who have received the knowledge of the truth by means of your preaching; and others, I believe, have joined the church above. May the Lord grant you increasing success in turning sinners to God, and in edifying saints; may he bless the labours of all his servants and people; and may his own word have free course and be glorified, by the overturning of the kingdom of sin and of Satan in the world; and may the "kingdoms of this world soon become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ." Amen.

I remain, Dear Pastor,Your Affectionate SonIn the Faith of the Gospel,G. B.GLASGOW, January, 1819.To the Rev.Ralph Wardlaw.

I remain, Dear Pastor,Your Affectionate SonIn the Faith of the Gospel,G. B.

I remain, Dear Pastor,

Your Affectionate Son

In the Faith of the Gospel,

G. B.

GLASGOW, January, 1819.To the Rev.Ralph Wardlaw.

GLASGOW, January, 1819.

To the Rev.Ralph Wardlaw.

33.The short duration of the peace, however, prevented the fulfilment of it.

34.Then assistant to Mr. Ewing; now minister of the congregation in Crown Court, London.

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