I find among a heap of papers which I may never have health or spirits to sort, a letter I wrote to you near twelve months ago to acquaint you with our Mother's death. It was then a great effort with me to write, for my faculties were stunned by a paralytic stroke in January preceding, which deprived me in an instant of the use of my right side, and for many weeks an hour of further life was not with me a probability. The blow impaired my memory and even now I have not recovered the recollection of many occurrences, and I continue to forget things I did a hour ago. In a far worse state I received intelligence on the 20th of April last that my mother had died that morning, and unfit as I was to go to Perceval Street, I yet went thither, and with all the ability I could muster, arranged for her funeral. I returned home to suffer consequences from such exertions which I had not anticipated, and my wife went to the funeral. Before this even I found myself in furnished lodging in Camberwell to which I had been removed in a helpless state from Gracechurch Street, and while in that state the property of the family had been taken possession of by Creditors of the business, and finally I was stripped of every Atom I possessed in the world, dispossessed of a home to return to, my family dispersed, and I, without a friend I could look to, but Almighty God, who had been my merciful support throughout my affliction. In my deep sorrows He and He alone has been my helper. This language from me will be new to you, but you will understand it better than I did at one time. For more than two years, before God in his Providence laid has hand upon me, I had been led to seek Him if haply I might find Him, and I was drawn to earnest and anxious prayer to be enabled to pray aright, at the same time reading intently in the scriptures, yet comprehending little of what I read, for I sought the conviction of my natural understanding, and missed ground at every stap for want of faith, and through ignorance of the way. The Almighty however was dealing with me, and, ever and anon, I had gleams of light upon his blessed word, which showed me the darkness in which I groped, and cause me to pray for further illimination. I picked up a little book "Scougal's Life of God in the Soul of Man,"2 which was very useful to me, but, above all, "Cecil's Remains,"3 which had been presented to me by a quaker gentleman from the country in 1825 upon the express condition that I would read it, and which I had read. I read again with other eyes, so that it scarcely seemed the same work. I had not been accustomed to attend a place of worship, but, shortly after my residence commenced in Gracechurch Street, I went regularly to the Parish Church of Allhallows Lombard Street, and in most of the supplications in the Church liturgy my heart unfeignedly concurred during the service. The pulpit was not ill filled, but, to me, it was not well filled. I wanted more than the simple plain discourse of a well intentioned clergyman. I wanted food, and came away comparatively hungry. At length on New Years Day 1832, the first time I had deviated from Allhallows, I sent the Children into the Church and passed on, not knowing or determining into what place I should go, but thinking of going to Surrey Chapel I went down Fish Street Hill until coming to Eastcheap, it struck me that as Mr Clayton had left the Weigh-House somebody worth hearing might have succeeded him. I had been there only once, about thirty five years before, and making my way up stairs got in just before the text was taken. Through the minister, Mr. Binney, a startling summons was delivered to me in the course of the sermon, and I came away with my mind disturbed but deeply solemnized. In a very short time it pleased God to break down my self will, and enable me to surrender my heart to him. I read his word with prayer for his light [was] upon it, and I seemed to know though I could not comprehend, to feel though I could not understand, its truth. To my wonder, everything appeared changed. The world and its pleasures, literature and its choicest works, had lost their charms—in short, I found that I myself was changed, and the mystery of salvation through the blood of Christ, God manifest in the flesh, is to me, through the eye of Faith, and by the power of Grace, a precious truth by which my rebellious will has been subjugated and my heart reconciled to God. My rationalizing of scripture, to carve out from it a rational religion which could afford to God a little of my heart, and allow the rest of it to the world, is, long since, at an end—it has vanished with all my unworthy derogatory views of Christ as a prophet, the greatest of prophets, anything and everything short of what he was, Christ himself, the saviour of sinners, who took away the sins of the world, through faith in whom as our great sacrifice we have pardon, in whom dwelt the fulness of the Godhead bodily, and who lives, as the great Intercessor and Mediator, until time shall be no more, when we shall know him as the Judge of all flesh, the Creator of all things & in whom all things consist. Dark, cold, unfeeling, unscriptural Unitarianism was my stumbling-block for years. I humbly thank our heavenly Father that of his great mercy I have been raised from that charnel house of Christianity by the vivifying power of his gracious Spirit, to the enjoyment of marvellous light. I pray for grace to be emptied of self, to be kept low, and to be kept crying for power to pray, until prayer shall be turned into praise before the throne.
My dear Brother, I know if you are what you were, which I earnestly and fervently hope you will be preserved to be, you will rejoice in what I have communicated. I do not know that I have a friend in existence but Him who is the friend of all who are ready to perish—certainly in England I have no relative that I know of except my poor wife and children—and to you, my Brother, my heart yearns with increased affection. The last letter that has arrived in England from you was one in which you required me to tell my mother she should hear from you very soon—she was then no more.