To Miss ——

February 21, 1759.

Probably, Miss, this may be the last trouble of

the kind which you will receive from me. Therefore you may forgive me this; and the rather, when you consider my motives to it. You know I can have no temporal view; I can have none but a faint, distant hope (because with God all things are possible) of doing some service to one whom I love. And this may answer the question which you might naturally ask, “What would you have? What do you want with me?” I want you, not to be a convert to my opinions, but to be a member of Christ, a child of God, and an heir of his kingdom. Be any thing, as to outward profession, so you are lowly in heart; so you resist and conquer ever>^ motion of pride, and have that mind in you which was also in Christ Jesus. Be what you please besides; only be meek and gentle, and in patience possess your soul; so that one may truly say to you, —

“Calm thou ever art within,
All unruffled, all serene.”

Hear what preacher you will; but hear the voice of God, and beware of prejudice and every unkind temper: beware of foolish and hurtful desires, or they will pierce you through with many sorrows. In one word, be any thing but a triller, a tritler with God and your own soul. It was not for this that God gave you

“A mind superior to the vulgar herd.”

No, Miss, no! but that you might employ all your

talents to the glory of him that gave them. O do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God! Is he not still striving with you? striving to make you, not almost, but altogether, a Christian? Indeed you must be all. or nothing; a saint or a devil, eminent in sin or holiness! The good Lord deliver you from every snare, and guide your feet in the way of peace!

How great a pleasure would this give to all your real friends, and in particular to

Your affectionate servant for Christ’s sake.

XLII. — TO THE SAME.

Colchester, March 20, 175&.

My wife, Miss, surprised me last night byinforming me you are left mistress of a large fortune. Shall I say, agreeably surprised me? I cannot tell, because I believe there is another world; and I do not know what influence this change may have on your condition. Therefore I am in fear and in hope. You may be hereby far more happy, or far more miserable, in eternity! O make a stand! Consider the situation you are in: perhaps never before were you in so great danger. You know a little of your natural tempers: now you have means of indulging, and thereby inflaming them to the uttermost. And how many will incite you so to do! How few will dare to wain you against it! Now what food will you have for pride! what infinite temptations to think more highly than you oaght to think! You do so already. But O where will you top? The good Lord arrest the storm in mid career! How impetuously now, unless God interpose, must self-will whirl you along! How deeply, unless he help, will you shortly be immersed in practical atheism! as ten thousand things will concur to drive God out of your thoughts, as much as if he were not in the world. But, above all, how will you escape from being swallowed up in idolatry 1 love of the world, such as you never knew before?

Hitherto you have been greatly superior to every delicacy in food: but even this may assault you now; and perhaps raise in you other desires which you are now a stranger to. At present, you are above the follies of dress? but will you be so a twelvemonth hence? May you not easily slide into the pride of life, in this as well as other instances? especially considering how your vanity will be gratified thereby? For who will not admire and applaud your admirable taste? It will only remain for you to marry some agreeable person, that has much wit and sense, with little or no religion; then it is finished! Either you will be throughly miserable in this world, or miserable to eternity.

“But what business is this of yours? Cannot you let me alone? What have I to do with you?” Believe me, I could very easily let you alone, if I had not a real and tender good-will toward you; and if I did not know (what perhaps you do not) that you have need even of me. You want friends who understand you well, and who dare tell you the whole, plain truth; and yet not in a surly, imperious manner; for then you could not receive it. I have endeavomred to do this once more. Will not you forgive me 1 I cannot but think, if you do not thank, you will at least excuse,

Your affectionate servant.