BERRIDGE’S manner of life secured to him not only the opposition and persecution of some persons, as detailed in our last paper, but it was also the means of knitting to him in close and esteemed friendship many of those who could appreciate at its true worth, his love to, and labor for Christ, and whose friendship therefore was worth having. It is our pleasant task now to refer to some of these friends.
One of the names first occurring to the mind in this connection is that of the “Rector of Surrey Chapel, Vicar of Wooton-under-Edge, and Curate of the fields, commons, &c., throughout England and Wales” —Rowland Hill. A hearty friendship began between them in 1764, and lasted for life. In that year, Rowland was sent to Cambridge, that he might become qualified for one of the family livings in Norfolk, in the gift of his father, Sir Rowland Hill. But at college his religious zeal and earnestness caused him to be so marked and hated (though only a young man twenty years old) that he used afterward to say that nobody ever gave him a cordial smile, except the old college shoeblack, who had the love of Christ in his heart. Berridge heard of him, and the following note was sent to Mr. Rowland Hill, at Cambridge: “Grandchester, Tuesday morning, December 18th, 1764.
Sir,— Mr. Thomas Palmer was at my house last week, and desired me to call upon you when I went to Cambridge. I am now at Grandchester, a mile from you, and where I preached last night and this morning, and where I shall abide till three in the afternoon; will you take a walk over? The weather is frosty, which makes it pleasant under foot. The bearer of this is Mr. Matthews, who lives at Grandchester Mill, at whose house I am. If you love Jesus Christ, you will not be surprised at this freedom taken with you by a stranger who seeks your acquaintance only out of love to Christ and His people. I am, for His sake, your affectionate servant, “JOHN BERRIDGE.”
There is no doubt that Mr. Hill walked over, and it is not surprising that between the two men so similar in many respects, a fervent love one to the other should spring up, unhindered by the great difference in age. The one was a young man whose life was in the future, the other nearly sixty years old, but the one purpose which animated the life of both, furnished a true bond in the Lord. Another letter written between six and seven years later, shows the depth of affection on Berridge’s part.
“Everton, May 8th, 1771.
“Dear Rowley, My heart sends you some of the kindest love, and breathes its tenderest wishes for you. I feel my heart go out to you whilst I am writing, and can embrace you as my second self. How soft and sweet are those silken cords which the dear Redeemer twines and ties about the heart of His children! How different from mere natural affection and much more from vicious self-love! Surely it is a pleasant thing to love with a pure heart fervently; and something of this love I feel for you, which brings a melting tear into my eye, and refreshes my very body as I write. Grace, mercy, and peace be with you! May heavenly truth beam into your soul, and heavenly love inflame your heart!”
Then follows much sound and weighty advice concerning the work in the gospel, and the letter concludes as follows: “Make the scriptures your only study, and be much in prayer. The apostles gave themselves to the word of God, and to prayer. Do thou likewise; labor to keep your mind in a heavenly frame—it will make your work pleasant, and your preaching and conversation savory... The world is all before you, and Providence your guide and guard. Go out, therefore, and work whilst the day lasteth; and may the Lord Jesus water your soul, and give ten thousand seals to your ministry! I am, with great affection, your friend, “JOHN BERRIDGE.”
It is pleasant to find that this wealth of love was returned by Rowland Hill. He said after Berridge’s death, “Many a mile have I rode, many a storm have I faced, many a snow have I gone through to hear good old Mr. Berridge; for I felt his ministry, when in my troubles at Cambridge, a comfort and blessing to my soul. Dear, affectionate old man, I loved him to my heart.” Another very esteemed friend was John Newton, Curate of Olney. Perhaps the reader will know him better as the writer of that ever-fragrant hymn, “How sweet the name of Jesus sounds,” and of others in the Olney Collection. His life had been a strange one. His father was master of a vessel, and when John was eleven years old, he was taken to sea. The training of his pious mother was―for a time at least—forgotten; he lapsed into infidelity, ungodliness, blasphemy and recklessness of living (his own account of himself). At one time he was pressed into the Royal Navy; he deserted, to be arrested and flogged. When released from the Navy, he entered the slave trade, but his service on the coast of Africa in this horrid employment was a hard one; he was ill-treated, and so nearly starved, that at one time he would fain devour raw roots to satisfy his hunger. A narrow escape from shipwreck, accompanied with great suffering, together with some remarkable visions, and perhaps the remembrance of his mother’s training as well, were used to turn him from his wicked ways to God.
Newton did not at first abandon the wretched slave trade, in which he afterward sailed as captain of a vessel, but eventually this was given up, and with great zeal he entered upon a curate’s labors at Olney.
It was here that Berridge made Newton’s acquaintance, and, as with most or all of Berridge’s friendships, it was hearty and sincere. He writes on one occasion, “I need not tell you how much I love you; nor that Jesus has taught me to do so.” Newton wrote an Ecclesiastical History, which he submitted to Berridge’s perusal, who liked it much, “But,” wrote he, “I am rather sorry you have undertaken to carry it through; sorry for your sake, not the reader’s. I fear it will chill your spirit and deaden your soul.” The letters Berridge wrote to Newton embrace all kinds of subjects, from a reference to a purchase of “eight night-caps from Mr. Marchant,” to matters connected with the spread of the gospel, and the state of the churches round about. In one of his last letters to that excellent man, he says, “I am full of expectation for your Messiah, and hope it will not be long before it appears. A glorious subject, indeed, and God has engaged your hand to the work. All ministers should preach about Jesus, but only His secretaries are fit to write about Him. I find Him growing very precious to my soul and wrapped more closely round my heart. My daily prayer is to grow up into Him, and lose myself in Him, and find Him my all in all. Perhaps I may soon be called upon to see Him whom my heart loves, and to throw myself at His feet... I have been ill for three months, and for two Sundays kept out of my pulpit. My body is wasted and weakened... What a mercy to have the prospect of a heavenly home, and well-founded too, when the earthly cottage is feeble or falling!”
It was only natural that, knowing Newton, Berridge should know also the gentle, but afflicted William Cowper, the poet, who was living at Olney with Newton. Some kind words about him occasionally occur in Berridge’s letters.
Berridge was charmed with Cowper’s poetry, but sent some critical remarks upon it “as a lover and a friend.” “My strictures will not hurt him,” said he, “I wish his muse may hurt him no more. Poetic fame is a sweet morsel for the mind to feed upon, and will try to beguile his heart into idolatry.” Perhaps one of the truest estimates of Cowper’s poetry was given by Berridge. “His poetry, though excellent, is not likely for sale. There is too much gospel for the world, and too little for most believers.”
W. J.