In the solitude of his cell, the angel of patience had been with him.
Through the cloud which had so long rested over him, the clear light of truth shone in upon his spirit; the weltering chaos of a disordered intellect settled into the calm peace of a reconciliation with God and man.

His first act on leaving prison was to visit Bristol, the scene of his melancholy fall.

There he publicly confessed his errors, in the eloquent earnestness of a contrite spirit, humbled in view of the past, yet full of thanksgiving and praise for the great boon of forgiveness.

A writer who was present says, the "assembly was tendered, and broken into tears; there were few dry eyes, and many were bowed in their minds." In a paper which he published soon after, he acknowledges his lamentable delusion.

"Condemned forever," he says, "be all those false worships with which any have idolized my person in that Night of my Temptation, when the Power of Darkness was above rue; all that did in any way tend to dishonor the Lord, or draw the minds of any from the measure of Christ Jesus in themselves, to look at flesh, which is as grass, or to ascribe that to the visible which belongs to Him.