But what is my hope that I shall ever execute my intentions? Truly a leaf driven by the wind of a thousand tempests. The fever on my spirits, from which, except in the heat of the first part of August, I have hardly been free this half year, still continues, and distressed me more last night than at any period in all that time. I waked very often and always after waking was almost bent double with misery. Yet in one of my short sleeps I dreamed that I had God's presence in a slight measure, and exclaimed under the impression of it: I know that thou art infinitely gracious, but what will become of me? This fever keeps me always in terror, for it has ever been the harbinger of my worst indispositions. As to prayer, the very collects you mention have been the prayers that I have generally used, when I have felt the least encouragement to pray at all.—But I may add, never with any sensible effect. In compliance however with your call to that service, I will use them again, and be careful not to omit them at least till the time you mention is expired. Yet if faith is necessary to effectuate prayer, alas! what chance have mine? Mrs. Unwin has had a pretty good night, and seems pure well this morning. I remain, Dear Sir, WM. C. DEAR SIR, I have now persevered in the punctual performance of the duty of prayer as long, and I believe longer than the time which you specified. Whether any beneficial effect has followed, I cannot say. My wakings in the night have certainly been somewhat less painful and terrible than they were, but this I cannot help ascribing to the agency of an anodyne which I have constantly used lately at bed time. Of one thing however I am sure, which is that I have had no spiritual anodyne vouchsafed safe to me. My nights having been somewhat less disturbed, my days have of course been such likewise; but a settled melancholy o'erclouds them all, nothing cheers me, nothing inspires me with hope. It is even miraculous in my own eyes that always occupied as I am in the contemplation of the most distressing subjects I am not absolutely incapacitated for the common offices of life. My purpose is to continue such prayer as I can make, although with all this reason to conclude that it is not accepted, and though I have been more than once forbidden in my own apprehension, by him to whom it is addressed. You will tell me, that God never forbids anybody to pray, but on the contrary encourages all to do it. I answer-No-Some he does not encourage, and some he even forbids, not by words perhaps, but by a secret negative found only in their experience. -Adieu!- Mrs. Unwin continues much as she was, and would be better if I were so. Wed. Nov. 21, 1792. Yrs, sincerely, WM. COWPER. DEAR SIR, Since I wrote last, my experience has held the same tenor of despair, despondence, and dejection; but having had a quiet night, my spirits are a little raised this morning. My nights indeed have lately been less infected with horrid dreams and wakings, and I would willingly hope that it is an answer to the prayers I offer, lifeless as they are. I shall not discontinue the practice, you may be sure, so long as I have even this encouragement to observe it. Two or three nights since I dreamed that I had God's presence largely, and seemed to pray with much liberty. I then proceeded dreaming about many other things, all vain and foolish; but at last I dreamed that recollecting my pleasant dream, I congratulated myself on the exact recollection that I had of my prayer, and of all that passed in it. But when I waked, not a single word could I remember. These words were however very audibly spoken to me in the moment of waking, Sacrum est quod dixi. It seems strange that I should be made to felicitate myself on remembering what in reality it was designed that I should not remember; for the single circumstance that my heart had been enlarged was all that remained with me. I thank you for sending your last notice immediately after you received it. It came very seasonably, when it was much wanted; not that any single word of all that are given you is ever sealed to me, but simple water is a cordial to a person fainting. Mrs. U. has had a good night, and is cheerful this morning. She unites with me in kind remembrances. I am, Dr. Sir, P.S. When I see you next, don't let me forget to pay you what I owe Mr. Killingworth for new covering the Road Book. Nov. 28. 1792. DEAR SIR, of In your last experience, extraordinary as it was, I found nothing presumptuous. God is free to-manifest himself, both in manner and measure as he pleases; and to you he is pleased to manifest himself uncommonly in both. It would be better with poor me, if being the subject of so many your manifestations (for which I desire to be thankful both to God and you) I were made in some small degree at least partaker of the comfort of them. But except that my nights are less molested than they used to be, I perceive at present no alteration at all for the better. My days are many of them, stormy in the extreme, and the best of them are darkly clouded with melancholy. Still I am waiting for freedom of mind and spirit, as well as for leisure and opportunity, to proceed with Milton. Yet the answers you have received to your prayers on that subject have been so explicit, that I know not how to desire you to make it a matter of prayer again. It is certain nevertheless that without some great change both in my mind and outward circumstances, I shall never be able to perform that work, or never able to perform it well. My eyes too for a long time have been inflamed to a degree that would alone disable me for such a labour. God knows how much I feel myself in want of animal spirits, courage, hope, and all mutual requisites— to a wonderful degree, considering the prayers that have been made, and the answers that have been obtained about it. You ought not to suffer anxiety on temporal accounts to rob you of your peace, as I suspect it has done lately. He that gives you so plentifully the bread of life, will he not give you the bread that perishes? Doubtless he will. Fear not. Adieu.-Mrs. U. is tolerably well, and sends her kind remembrances. I am, yours sincerely, Dec. 4, 1792. DEAR SIR, WM. COWPER. Saturday, Dec. 8, 1792. I awoke this morning with these words relating to my work loudly and distinctly spoken: "Apply assistance in my case, indigent and necessitous." And about three mornings since with these: "It will not be by common and ordinary means." APPENDIX. It seems better therefore that I should wait till it shall please God to set my wheels in motion, than make another beginning only to be obliterated like the two former. I have also heard these words on the same subject,— "Meantime raise an expectation and desire of it among the people." My experiences this week have been for the most part dreadful in the extreme, and to such a degree in one instance, that poor Mrs. Unwin has been almost as much in an agony as myself. Yet some little abatements have been intermingled; but very slight-so slight as almost to leave me hopeless as they found me. I cannot indeed be properly said to possess any hope at all; for if I seem for a short season to have one, it is always in the enemy's power with one puff to blow it all away, and he never fails to do it. I write in great haste, and have not time to add more, except that I am, Sincerely yours, W. C. Dec. 14, 1792. DEAR SIR, You have waited thus long for a note from me, only because I have nothing to communicate but my distress, which it seems more charitable to keep to myself. At last however distressed as I still am, I write, lest I should cause you greater trouble by my silence. Yesterday, having had a quiet night, I was tolerably well in spirits; bnt, yesterday excepted, I have had a woful week, and am this day as dejected as ever. My nights are almost all haunted with notices of great affliction at hand—of what kind I know not; but in degree such as I shall with extreme difficulty sustain, and hardly at last find deliverAt four this morning, I started out of a dream, in which I seemed sitting before the fire and very close to it, in great ance. |