Letters
by J. C. Philpot
Letters, especially when written to beloved
friends in the Lord, draw forth much of the inmost experience of the
writer's heart. The very freeness of correspondence unlocks those bosom
secrets which are often almost necessarily held back from a public
congregation. You know that your friend will not abuse your confidence,
betray your secrets, or make you an offender for a word. As you write, your
friend comes before your mental eye, affection softens your heart towards
him, the springs of inward feeling gradually rise, and they flow forth,
according to the gift bestowed, in streams upon your paper. It is this
freedom of communication and this writing out of the fullness of the heart
which give letters by the saints and servants of God such a peculiar
sweetness and power. Not being intended for the public eye, they are
specially adapted for private reading.
We can take up the book of letters, or lay it down, read
a long letter or a short one, without straining the mind or distracting the
attention. If it suits us, we go reading on, letter after letter, as we have
often done with Mr. Huntington's Letters. If it does not suit heart, time,
or place, we can but lay the book down. It is a patient visitor, not jealous
of a rival or sensitive of neglect, but bearing any amount of rebuff,
coldness, or silence, and ready to speak again only when asked to do so.