Yours very affectionately, G. M. TO THE REV. THOMAS MORTIMER. Madeley, Feb. 5, 1824. My dear Thomas, ******* Matters proceed among us pretty much as usual. My people are kind, our congregations good, classes very fair, and attendance on the weekly expositions pleasingly increasing. As to myself, I can say but little; sometimes I am enabled to live in the spirit of the petition, “Each moment draw from earth away My heart, which lowly waits thy call;” and then my peace flows smooth and tranquil as a river; then all my affections take their proper channel, and are directed to a holy spiritual end. But, alas! too generally I find my feelings and conduct better characterized by complaint than exultation, and have too much reason to say, “Yet hind’rances strew all the way; I aim at thee, yet from thee stray.” But I still keep fixing my eye upon the beauteous light, even when furthest from it, and most ardently do I sigh after its most blessed repose. Well, perhaps, after all my failures, I may still become habitually possessed of it; and indeed without it, I feel that I shall never enjoy anything like true and substantial rest. A minister without the inward grace, and that also in a more than usual measure, is of all others a character most to be pitied—I mean of all other Christians; for in order to instruct others, he must of course be more advanced in knowledge, and consequently will be called to a far stricter account. Besides, the whole routine of his employments, carrying with them the exterior of sanctity, are apt to impress, not only others, but himself also, with fallacious hopes respecting the safety of his state. The constant repetition also of his duties has a strong tendency to render the spiritual impression on himself less and less vivid, till at length the pious feeling, in many instances, is entirely absent, and he detects himself half hypocritically acting or performing a part, attempting to raise emotion in others to which he is so much a stranger himself. These, my dear brother, are our snares—at least they are mine; but I hope I not only perceive them, but am watching against them. And my comfort is, that amidst all my consciousness of weakness, it is still my privilege to rely on an all-sufficient Saviour.