Francis married in 1757, the year he began at Horsley. He met his Welsh wife, whose maiden name was Harris, while in Bristol. They lost several children but the second, Mary, lived until she was 31, dying ten years before her father. His first, named Enoch for his father, died after just 18 months.
The year 1765 proved to be a very tough one for Francis. In that year, his wife died on April 26 and then on June 18 his four year old son, named after himself. On July 4 his youngest daughter Sarah died and on July 10 his daughter Elizabeth, only three years old. In the face of these blows he decided to move from the place where he had been living. He also published a plaintive elegy expressing his grief and describing the comfort he found in God.
On July 27, 1766, he remarried, to a Miss Wallis, who would outlive him. They named their first son Enoch and though he was a joy to them, being born deaf he was unable to speak. Always a good boy, sadly he died young at the age of 15 after a short illness. A daughter, Hesther, and two boys died young. A second Hesther died at the age of 11 in 1790 but not before she had shown good evidence of her piety. The same was true of her older sister who also died that year at the age of 16. A son whom they called Benjamin lived until he was 27 when he died in 1795 of yellow fever in South Carolina, America. He had gone there and done well and was about to marry. We gain some idea of the consolation Francis knew in this further grief from the letter he wrote to his son's intended where he says
Though overwhelmed with grief at the loss of a dear and affectionate son, whom 1 tenderly loved, yet I dare not repine at the disposal of unerring Providence, but am enabled to say, The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord. Christ is altogether worthy of your entire confidence, chief esteem, and everlasting adoration. May this bitter cup be abundantly mixed with divine consolations; and while you lament the loss of the uncertain stream of temporal felicity, may you drink eternal happiness at the fountain head.
In another letter, written to a friend, he reveals his perspective on suffering
In my afflictions and confinements I have felt inexpressibly for perishing sinners, especially for those under my own ministry: and I would in every sermon I preach, enjoy much of that compassion which dwells in the heart of the dear Redeemer. I want to preach as if standing at the bar of God. I now see so many sad defects in every grace, and imperfections in every duty I perform, with so many errors and sins in professors, that by these things my heart is heavily pressed, and I could dwell long on these painful subjects. But as to myself, I am more or less daily a burden to myself. I find my heart to be my chief, if not my only enemy. If the devil accuse me, I seldom accuse him; and it often disgusts me to hear professors charge their sins on that evil spirit. When I was young in religion, I wanted joy and assurance; but what I now mostly desire is, the mortification of all corruption, the spirit of Christ in my heart, and a universal conformity to the will and image of God. My consciousness of great deficiency in these things fills me with shame and sorrow; nor shall I be perfectly easy and happy till I am perfectly holy. O! how sweet, how beautiful, is true holiness! This is no part of our justifying righteousness, but it is a great part of our salvation. I desire to love the truths, and to embrace the promises of the gospel, not only as calculated to enlighten .my understanding, and to rejoice my heart, but also to transform me into the divine image, and to fill my soul with a holy admiration of the infinite Jehovah. I want to lose sight of self in the refulgence of his glory, and to shrink into nothing, that God may be all in all. I long, I long, at least in some of my happier moments, to serve, to praise, to glorify my dear Redeemer, as my chief business, my chief delight, and as the chief part of my heaven. O when shall I praise him as angels do!
In a letter to a Mrs Tomkins in Abingdon (the Tomkins were an influential family in the church and town) on the death of her husband, he wrote
The Lord liveth forever, liveth to be your guide, your supporter, your comforter, your wall; and ere long you shall see your dear friend who is only gone to his native home a little before yourself; yes, you shall see him with tearless and joyful eyes, a glorified saint before the throne of God. Though the stream of so much satisfaction and delight has ceased to flow, yet the fountain of all consolation and happiness is still the same; thither you will repair more than ever. O! there is enough in the favour and presence of God to solace, to satisfy your sorrowing mind! Look up, from the gloomy repository of the sleeping dust, to the bright abode of the immortal spirit, adorned with perfect purity, filled with consummate happiness and crowned with celestial glory.
We see here how his sympathy towards those in distress extended beyond his family to others.
No comments:
Post a Comment