SINCE I last wrote to you I have been spending a few days at Islington; but my stay being very short, I was obliged to confine myself wholly to home. I visited but one person all this time. I had hoped, however, to have returned again soon, and to have done myself the pleasure of calling on my several friends; but a very unpleasant circumstance has hindered me—the bishop has refused me ordination at present: and I am under the necessity of waiting till it shall please my gracious God to show my path. My vicar is a _notorious_ character, and my friends have all along been apprehensive lest I should find some difficulty in getting ordained to his curacy. I must say, I shall not be a little disappointed should I be obliged to relinquish all thought of Wellington; but the matter is in the Lord’s hands, and I would willingly leave it to his all-wise disposal. If I have learned anything by my past experience, it is this, to feel fully persuaded that all our concerns, however unpleasant they may be at the present, will, either in this world or in the world to come, terminate in our good. In affairs of this kind it is better to make as little fuss as possible: I must therefore beg you will not mention it to any one. I shall wait quietly for the present, in hope that the bishop may relent; but should not this be the case, I must content myself with some other situation. Poor G. is similarly circumstanced with myself; he has been refused _three_ times, and that, too, in spite of the interest of the Master; he wishes to be ordained on his Coll. Fellowship, and that lover of the truth, the good Bishop of Ely, has every time put a spoke in his wheel. But what a mercy it is that, notwithstanding all the opposition which serious candidates meet with, still they are not, cannot be, entirely hindered and excluded! * * * * * *
I HAD imagined, some months ago, that the exercise of mind I was under when preparing for the Senate House, was the greatest I should ever experience; I was greatly mistaken. O my sister, did you know how much I have felt lately, you would truly sympathise with me; but I now enjoy comparative rest; my feelings, indeed, have been strongly mixed, but the better have generally, though not without considerable struggle, predominated. I have enjoyed more of the power of vital religion, and that has been my support and stay; and would it but please my God to indulge me with more communion with himself, HE might do with me and my poor concerns whatever might please HIM. HE alone is truly and absolutely necessary for my comfort, and would HE but say, in my subsequent career, “My presence shall go with thee,” I should feel that enough. I could ask nothing more.