Letter From Daniel Turner 1762 01

This is the introduction to a letter from the Rev Daniel Turner of Abingdon, written to Beddome in 1762 in response to news that Beddome was going through a time of spiritual darkness. We will give the bulk of the letter in the next post. This is an accompanying note.

You may possibly think it strange, my good brother, that I who have so little personal acquaintance with you, and know so little particularly, of your case, should give you the trouble of so long a letter, as the enclosed - and I confess it a liberty I am not sufficiently warranted to take. Nevertheless, I having myself once felt so much from a situation not perhaps much unlike yours, I was, more than I should else have been, affected with the short hints of your case in your last favour with the association Letter, that I could not easily rest the inclination I found in my mind, to say something that might administer to your comfort through the Divine blessing, though I confess I had no thought when I set out of going half this length. If I have been impertinent, I did not design to be so, and the rectitude of my intention, and your goodness, I trust, will plead my excuse. I am however, wishing to see you.

Yours sincerely,

D Turner

Abingdon, Sep 4 1762

The Ode on the other side I composed for the comfort of a friend in distress, as well as to give vent to my own thoughts upon the subject. It proved a means of her refreshment and pleasure, it may possibly answer the like end with you, please therefore to accept of it as an instance of my good intention.

Jesus, full of all compassion, Hear thy humble suppliant's cry;

Let me know thy great salvation: See I languish, faint, and die.

2 Guilty, but with heart relenting Overwhelm'd with helpless grief,

Prostrate at thy feet repenting, Send, O send me quick relief!

3 Whither should a wretch be flying, But to him who comfort gives? —

Whither, from the dread of dying, But to him who ever lives

4 While I view thee, wounded, grieving, Breathless on the cursed tree,

Fain I'd feel my heart believing That thou sufferedst thus for me

5 With thy righteousness and Spirit, I am more than angels blest;

Heir with thee, all things inherit, - Peace, and joy, and endless rest.

6 Without thee, the world possessing, I should be a wretch undone,

Search through heaven, the land of blessing Seeking good and finding none

7 Hear then, blessed Saviour, hear me; My soul cleaveth to the dust;

Send the Comforter to cheer me; Lo I in thee I put my trust.

8 On the word thy blood hath sealed Hangs my everlasting all:

Let thy arm be now revealed: Stay, O stay me, lest I fall!

9 In the world of endless ruin. Let it never. Lord, be said,

Here's a soul that perish'd, suing For the boasted Saviour's aid.

10 Saved - the deed shall spread new glory Through the shining realms above!

Angels sing the pleasing story, All enraptured with thy love.