Chapter X: Letter X: Valley of Achor, May 16, 1819

MY DEAR FRIEND, Mrs. HARRIS,

I am sorry to hear of your indisposition, but hope also to hear soon of your recovery. I take this opportunity of acknowledging how much I feel indebted to you for your long concern for my best interest, and your grief for my trials; but I think God has given you many tokens of my future good, by many gracious impressions on your mind in your sleeping hours, and I trust we shall not be mistaken in them, although we are apt to construe such impressions to mere temporal advantages, just as the Apostles did of our dear Lord’s kingdom and government; they all thought he was come to set up a temporal kingdom, but when they were filled with the Holy Spirit they understood the subject better. This world is not our rest, we are not born merely to pass our lives in this, but to be looking out for a better and more enduring home: yet, alas, how prone are we to fix our tents here, in this world of uncertainty and trouble. I trust my dear friend has a little hope of a better world. You have often heard of an eternal glory, and I am sure it will be a heaven worth dying for. Many of the people of the world rush into wars and bloodshed, the ruins of countries and the distress of nations, merely to get a great name, and that it might be said they died honorably in the field of battle. Poor deluded creatures, this was not worth dying for; honour and fame is but a noise, a vapour, a puff, and a breath. But we want to die to obtain a glorious eternity, to see the dear Saviour, to be with him, and to be like him; to see him with our enlightened understandings, till the last trumpet shall sound, and our bodies be raised from the dead, strong, beautiful, and glorious, and the soul and body meet again with rapture, to be filled with the joy of the Lord, to hear the welcome sentence of the dear Redeemer, and see him smile on us, creating our heaven, and delighting us with his love; opening our minds to receive the knowledge of God in his glorious persons, the greatness of his grace, the displays of his wisdom and power—his truth, condescension, faithfulness, and mercy in our eternal salvation.

I trust my dear kind Friend can say she humbly desires only Christ and an interest in him, to know that her sins are pardoned by him, and that she lives in the tenderest affections of his heart. The scriptures declare that you do live there, but you want to feel it for yourself; yet, I hope you can say, from what little you do know, you depend upon Christ as God-Man and Mediator, upon his most blessed work, as your acceptance with the Father, only you want the gracious Holy Spirit to shew you so much of Christ as to cause you to love _him_ above all things, and to give you the clearest assurance of his love to you. _Do take notice_. This little knowledge you have of _him_, and this desire after _him_, this humble dependence upon _him_, and renouncing all others, is really believing in _him_.

May the Lord bless thee and keep thee, be your leader, guide, and comfort. Kind love to your Niece, and all enquiring friends and acquaintance.—I must conclude this letter, with some Remarks I have met with on the very great difference between an _Acquaintance_ and a _Friend_.

Your’s truly,
_Ruhamah_.

ACQUAINTANCE and FRIENDS _DISTINCT CHARACTERS_.

FALLEN man an erring creature is,
And, bent on erring, errs in this:
He forms connections without end,
And calls each _intimate a Friend_.

But ’twixt the two a difference lies,
And, oh! how great is our surprize—
To view the characters more near,
How vast me difference does appear.

_Acquaintance_ cries, to ease my woe,
Be warm’d, be fill’d—and off they go.
My _Friend_ presents the thing I need,
The _one’s_ in word, the _other_ deed.

While pleasing plenty crowns my cup,
_Acquaintance_ springs like mushrooms up;
But woeful want creeps forth to light,
And each betakes himself to flight.

Yet sometimes one of human kind.
In this dull day remains behind;
And ’tis my _Friend_, for only he
Cares for the child of misery.

_Acquaintance_ see me go astray:
But he must look to that they say.
My _Friend_ seeks out my devious track,
O’ertakes me, and conducts me back.

If sick, or into prison thrown,
My _Friend_ still makes my case his own,
And in my chamber or my cell
Esteems it his delight to dwell.

The utmost my _Acquaintance_ do,
While these great deeps I’m passing through,
Is, squeeze this prayer out now and then—
Heav’n send him safely out again.

_Acquaintance_ are but sons of earth;
They relish well the house of mirth,
But in the mourner’s dwelling place
’Tis real pain to shew his face.

Here mark my _Friend_, he in the hour
Of keen temptation’s darkness power,
Stands by me all the season long,
With a sweet promise on his tongue.

He bears my company till death,
Whilst on my very latest breath;
And in his last kind act of love,
Points to my Father’s house above.

Then while I sojourn here below,
Let _Friend_ include all names I know;
And be it fellow-creature’s pride
To know no other name beside.—_Amen_.