An EXTRACT of LETTERS. By Mrs. L****

To the READER.

THE person who published these letters about twelve years ago, observes, the writer of them, “never supposed they would be made public, but put down the sentiments of her heart, in the confidence of friendship. This may excuse the inaccuracies some may find: besides they are not recommended as patterns of polite, epistolary correspondence. Their merit is of another kind. It consists neither in the fineness of the language, nor in the elegance of the manner.” — I really think it does, as well as “in the goodness of the sentiment.” I am not ashamed to recommend them, as “patterns of truly polite, epistolary correspondence:” expressing the noblest sentiments in the most elegant manner, in the purest, yea, and finest language. Yet undoubtedly even the beauty of the language is nothing compared to the spirit which breathes throughout. Happy they who both taste her spirit and are partakers of it: who walk in the light as he is the light, and know that the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth from all sin.

J. W.

Letters

To Mrs. ****.

YOUR letter, my ever dear friend, has been a great blessing to me; that you should write in the style you now do, filled me with such a sense of mine own unworthiness, and of the goodness of God to me, that it melted my stony heart, and drew tears from mine eyes. Oh would the God I adore enable me to be of any help to you, how would my soul dilate in thankfulness? Blessed Redeemer, draw us both, and so will we run after thee. Oh Spirit of truth, descend on thine unworthy servants, and make us fully sensible of the seal of our redemption! Convince us still more deeply of our sins, and make us still more fully to know, that they are washed away by the blood of Jesus. Thou knowest the burdens we labour under, the dissipations of our thoughts, our wandrings in prayer, our spiritual sloth, and all the hardness of our hearts. Stir us up earnestly to seek after the things of God, and fix our inconstant minds. Thou knowest that we desire (for this desire comes from thee) that the love of the Father may abide in our hearts. We beg thine assistance that we may eagerly seek after this love. Oh teach us the prayer of faith, and enable us constantly and undauntedly to press forward toward the mark of the prize of our high calling! Be thou our guide, be thou our comforter for ever and for ever. Amen, Amen.

*What a task have you laid upon me? I watch over you! I your guide! This quite overcomes me. I cannot bear it. Oh, my love, there is no one so much wants a guide and a director as I do. Sure this letter of your’s was particularly designed by providence to humble me; but unworthy as I am, I will by the grace of God strive to do every thing you desire of me: but then you must return the same to me, and take me into the number of those you watch over. Let us go hand in hand in these paths which lead to everlasting life. What shall I say to quicken your steps? It was said to me since I saw you, by Mr. **** “I hope still to have a great deal more pleasure from you, by seeing you press forward.” Think these words were addressed to you by the same person. Oh what a blessing of God accompanies the words of one who is uniformly a Christian, of one who spends and is spent for the service of his master, of one who has no view but the glory of God and the salvation of souls! Who would not strive earnestly to follow so bright an example? The very sight of such a person animates the soul in its warfare. O what soul, which is the least alive to God, would not even agonize to be perfectly renewed after the image of Christ? Is your heart, is my heart so dead, that this will not affect it? — Alas, I grieve for mine own — may God give me to rejoice for your’s.

I have time for no more. May the blessing and influence of the ever-adorable Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, be continually with your soul.

I am your ever-affectionate, &c.

My dear Friend,

ITHINK you are now through divine grace, strong enough to bear what I am going to say to you, that I have long seen a mixture of pride and vanity even in the best of your performances. But I could hardly allow myself to believe it. What! have I often said, shall I judge so of her, whom every body admires for her surprising modesty and humility? Is it not because she is more excellent than myself, and therefore I am seeking to find some fault in her? Then I have often prayed to God, not to suffer my soul to be deceived by any sinister views, and to perfect in you what was wanting. And this I trust he will do for us both, if we keep the longing eye of our souls steadily fixed upon him. Oh for holiness of heart! Let us labour, my dear companion, for holiness, as a dying sinner labours for life.

I had yesterday a most delightful letter from Mr. ****. It sent me to my knees so convinced of my black ingratitude to my heavenly Father, that I could neither find words nor thoughts sufficient to express my unworthiness; yet at the same time my heart was full of thanksgiving, under a sense of his unbounded mercies. O help me, my dear friend, to be more and more thankful! Such advantages — dearest Jesus, how justly great must be my condemnation, if I do not make suitable improvements. Take the latter part of Mr. ****’s letter, apply it to yourself constantly, every minute if possible. “You have need therefore to watch and pray always, and then especially when you might seem to have least need. You have reason to fear always: for your enemies are always watching. But you have reason likewise to rejoice always, because he that keepeth you never sleeps.”

My dear Friend,

IHAVE read your letter with tears, and earnest prayers to God for you, and for myself. We are both unworthy creatures; indeed, my love, we are more unworthy than we can either express or conceive. O let us fly to the blood of sprinkling. There and there alone can we find help.

Thanks be to God, that you have a clear view of your own heart. This is a most profitable prospect, though a most dreadful one. Think me not cruel, when I wish that the holy Spirit may deeply wound your soul with a sense of its corruptions. The deeper the conviction, the firmer the peace that follows.

*I hardly know how to believe you, when you tell me you are hurried away by desires after worldly happiness. Is it possible? Alas, my friend, pardon the harshness of the expression, if the love of the world is in your heart, you are only a painted sepulchre, beautiful indeed outwardly, but within――. My dear creature, I cannot bear to think this — a Christian to be hurried away with desires and endeavours after worldly happiness! If St.
Paul’s character of a Christian is right, how far are you from being
a Christian? “Ye are dead,” says he, “and your life is hid with Christ in God.”

May not these violent ragings of pride, vanity, &c.
you speak of, be some of the last struggles of a dying enemy? When the strong man armed keepeth his house, his goods are in peace. But when there is a stronger comes upon him to overcome him, and to take from him that armour in which he trusted, no wonder the house is in a tumult. And this I hope is your present case. But beware, my dear soul, of thinking, that you never should be otherwise. Limit not the grace of God. He has only to say, Peace, be still, and immediately the winds and seas obey him. “But how to obtain this peace?” Oh my dear friend, will you follow the advice of the meanest and most unworthy of the servants of Christ? Look upon yourself as being only now fully convinced of your guilt and dreadful condition. Look upon yourself as a poor, lost, helpless, miserable creature. Set before your eyes your sins, with all their aggravations; and when your soul is weighed down to the dust under a sense of your own vileness, then throw yourself at the foot of the cross: there lie as a loathsome leper before the almighty healer: there let your parched soul gasp (with the utmost stretch of all your faculties) after those life-giving streams which flowed from Christ’s hands, his feet, his pierced side; and there keep the eye of your mind fixed, until the still small voice be heard in your
soul — “Be of good cheer, thy sins are forgiven thee.”

IWAS in hopes, my dear, that I had cause to think you had gained ground; but if I was mistaken, am very sorry. God forbid however that you should have gone back: I must not for my own ease believe that. *The reason for your not finding so much comfort as usual flowing from the cross, is because you lay yourself too much out upon outward things. I doubt not but your own will is indeed very powerful, and it will ever be so, while you indulge yourself in castle-building. Let your schemes be ever so good, they are (unless God had given you the means and power to perform them) merely the creatures of your own will; and I don’t know any thing that self-will more delights in, than in these imaginary good projects. Believe me, my dear soul, I speak from experience. There is nothing more encourages self-will, pride, and every temper we ought to subdue, than these schemes. For God’s sake strive to get the better of this folly. I know your temper is naturally inclined to it, and therefore you ought to be more particularly watchful. Cannot you, my love, keep your thoughts fixed on the present moment, in a constant dependance on the leadings of the Spirit of God, and only wishing that every succeeding moment may bring a new accession of grace to your soul, without fixing on the particular means, by which you would have it come? When the will is in this total resignation to God, it brings a peace to the soul, which cannot be described.

I don’t like your going to Vauxhall, I think you ought to try every possible means, to get off. Suppose you were to be sincere, and own it was against your conscience. Pray God direct you what to do. If you are really forced to go, God will preserve your heart from the pollutions of the place. If this is the case, I think you will be in less danger of being hurt there, than in your visit to Mrs. ****: for in this visit you will lie exposed to the worst enemy you have, that is, yourself. With those good people, whom you love and admire, and who love and admire you, you will without the most constant watchfulness, be continually falling into self-seeking and self-applause.

I fear, my love, you will soon think me too plain in my speaking; but I cannot answer it to my conscience, since what has past between us, not to warn you of every thing which seems to me to prevent your progress in grace. Don’t imagine though, that I wish you would not make this visit to Mrs. ****;
quite the contrary; but I wish you to keep the most constant guard upon
your own heart, that what should be for your health, be not unto you an occasion of falling.

I am your ever sincere and affectionate, &c.

*I THANK God, that you now see the danger of wandring imaginations in a clearer light; but I cannot guess what schemes a heart like yours (which I should hope was desirous of nothing but what immediately tended to increase in it the love ♦of God) can pursue, which are not for what we call doing good. Depend upon it, my dear, if you can by an act of your will waste a thought on any future view of happiness, that regards only your situation in this world, you are yet far from the kingdom of God. To a soul, that has but the lowest sense of the pardoning love of God, every thing that does not lead to a greater sense of this love is insipid. Outward things, according to the present circumstances we are in, ought to be attended to with prudence, though not with anxiousness; but that soul which runs out after them in future, ought to tremble. My dear creature, are we not every moment on the brink of eternity, and may plunge in the next, for ought we know? What then have we to do, but every moment to grasp after new degrees of grace, new power over sin, a still higher sense of the love of God shed abroad in our hearts? “Without holiness no man shall see the Lord” — Alas! what is a life of sixty or seventy years (supposing we could be certain of so many) to attain universal holiness? And shall we lose a moment? Outwardly we must a great many: but still our hearts may be gaining ground in the steady pursuit of that end, for which we were created, and to which we have such glorious encouragements. What! shall Christ cry out to us in vain, “Give me thy heart?” Or shall we dare to divide that heart, which cost him so dear? O my friend, be jealous for your redeeming God. Suffer not that soul, for which he shed his precious blood, to stray one moment from him.

I am sorry you found pleasure at Vauxhall. I could not have believed it, had you not told me so yourself. I see, my love, I have thought far too highly of you. What a frightful distance is there still between you, and a Christian! Could any one who had the mind which was in Christ have felt pleasure, where they saw God dishonoured, and their fellow-creatures running headlong to destruction? You had reason indeed to be ashamed, and thank God that you was so. The curiosity in regard to the astronomical instruments might distract your mind for a longer time, but your taking delight in these did not shew such an excessive depravity of heart, as the other: for astronomy is only accidentally made a means of dishonouring God, and hurting the souls of men; but Vauxhall is necessarily so.

I am your ever affectionate, &c.

*I
WRITE, my love, to you to thank you for the pleasure you gave me last Thursday, and still to urge you more and more continually to press forwards. Young as you are, you may perhaps be very near the end of your course, and the time given you to work in may, for ought you know, be very nearly elapsed. That form of yours, which now delights the eyes of your friend, and seems to promise a long continuance of health and vigour, may soon perhaps become defaced and loathsome meat for crawlings worms, and that soul, that precious and immortal soul of yours, which is now far from loving its Creator as it ought to do, may soon stand naked in the sight of that God, to whom it has been ungrateful — its day of probation past — and its lot cast for a whole eternity. Oh my friend, my dearest companion in my pilgrimage, I conjure you by all your heart holds dear, that you lose not a moment! Oh may that God, who is love itself, so inflame your soul with a sense of his love, as may consume all its dross, and make it through Christ an acceptable sacrifice to himself! I think the last time I saw you I had the satisfaction of observing less of self-seeking in you, than I ever
did before. Sure God will give me greatly to rejoice in you. Farewel. Whenever, my love, I think too well of you, fail not to tell me, and take shame to yourself for deceiving me.

I am your’s, &c.

My dear Friend,

ITHANK you for your letters, and rejoice at a great part of the account you give me. You have been very happy indeed; and it seems to me that God gave you this happiness as preparatory to the trials, which were to ensue. And if you should after this goodness of God towards you, grieve his holy Spirit, by suffering your heart to indulge any temper, which you know to be contrary to his will, what words would be strong enough to paint your black ingratitude? I will deal plainly with you. I think you are now in a most dangerous situation. Every thing around you will conspire to tempt you to the sin which most easily besets you, and therefore you must not be one moment off your guard. You must pray without ceasing, even in the fullest sense of the words and constantly strive to have strongly painted in your imagination Jesus Christ, and him crucified. There is nothing I think more tends to humble us, than the consideration of the sufferings of Christ. When you find yourself going to say or do any thing with a view to praise, think, this temper, this vanity of mine added to the weight of my Saviour’s sufferings, and made more bitter his cup of bitterness. Oh, if you had a soul capable of feeling, if you have one spark of gratitude, can you think this, and sin? Was you now standing on Mount Calvary near the cross of the blessed Jesus (suppose the dreadful deed was but now performing) and you saw the Redeemer of the world just nailed to his cross, say, would you help to drive the nails still deeper? Would you press the thorns closer to his sacred temples? Would you help to increase that load, which made him cry out, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Does not your soul shudder at the thought? O my friend would you not rather die, gladly die, for this your suffering Lord? Would you not gladly be cut in ten thousand pieces to save him one pang? I know you would. And will you not strive against that sin, which increased his sufferings? Will you not strive, my love? — Yes, sure you will. Is not every thing we can give up by far too small a return for what the Redeemer has done for us? And shall we not give this little? Above all shall we not give up what most of all separates us from him, our self-love, and self-seeking? Think my friend when any one is hinting to you, how extraordinary you are — “this person is ignorantly driving me from my Saviour.” And if you should, which God forbid, find yourself tempted to indulge a vain complacency in their applause, think immediately how their praise would be turned into contempt, did they know your heart as it really is, and blush for thus deceiving them. Recollect some of the mean motives which perhaps have been the springs of some of your most admired words and actions, and let your soul within you be humbled to the dust. And my dear, I beg you will be careful how you draw praise upon yourself by praising others. This is what I am very apt to fall into; and therefore I am the more sensible of its hurtfulness. And beware how you suffer yourself to attempt explaining nice points of doctrine, unless it is evident there will be good done by it, and then you may hope God will preserve you from the pride, which generally accompanies this display of the capacity. May you constantly walk in the light of God’s countenance, and go on conquering, and to conquer!

IAM glad, my dear friend, that your visit to **** has been of such benefit to you; and I pray God to continue it to your soul, and not to suffer these impressions to wear off. Temptations doubtless will attend every situation we are in; but the soul that rests secure in the love of God will easily conquer them. I wish you may find more and more benefit from the church prayers: they are for human compositions very excellent, and I belief the best form of prayers that ever was put together. I cannot reproach you for that which God has pardoned, but you certainly ought now to be more watchful, that you fall not again; for then great indeed would be your condemnation. The danger which may accrue to you by going to Miss **** will I find be known to you by experience only. She is certainly a good creature herself, and I love her, but there is a spirit ♦haunts her absolutely contrary to the spirit I am seeking after. She is not capable, my dear, of watching your words with any ill design. Her only view is to find out your errors. And if possible cure you of them. I doubt not but if you could converse with her alone, and keep clear of disputes, she might be of great use to you, and I hope God will bless this and every other means to the good of your soul. The most excellent people in the world will be of little avail, unless his Spirit assists, and with this there is nothing so weak or mean, but what may tend to increase his love in our hearts. *For my own part, silence and solitude seem at present best for me, and I am more hurt by some religious people, whom I converse with, than by the people of the world. Indeed there is scarce any, who does not in some measure hurt me, except Mr. ****. Numberless are the snares that lie in our way to the heavenly kingdom. ’Tis truly a warfare, and a very difficult one, but the crown that awaits us at the end, is well worth the striving for, even unto blood. Besides the encouragements and comforts we find in the way are glorious: sure I am that Alexander never found such joy in all his conquests, as the soul that presses after the footsteps of Christ does in one conquest over self-will. There is more delight in suffering for God, than in reigning with the world. To clasp the cross of Christ close to the heart is more happiness than angels can give; and what inexpressible satisfaction is it to a soul, whose every faculty loves its Redeemer, to cry out,

Give me to feel thine agonies,

One drop of thy sad cup afford;

I fain with thee would sympathize,

And share the sufferings of my Lord.

*Oh God of unspeakable mercy, unbounded love, how little is all we can do or suffer for thee! Oh that we might not have a thought, nor even a pulse beat, but for our God! What is all that earth or heaven itself can give in comparison of thee? Oh uncreated beauty, how does every other excellence fade away at thy presence! How does a taste of thy love make every other love insipid! And a ray of thy light darken the brightest of created Beings! Oh when, when shall our souls be wholly swallowed up in thee! When shall we know thee even also as we are known! Thou knowest the desire of our hearts. Thou seest how our souls stretch, and pant after thee, even to fainting! Oh give us to drink of the waters of life, even in this our pilgrimage, until we come to drink freely of them from that river, which proceedeth out of the throne of God, and of the Lamb for ever and ever. Amen, Lord Jesus.

My beloved friend,

IHAVE been admiring the goodness of God to you, in ordering your being at L**** at a time, when it must, instead of being hurtful, be profitable to your soul. The attending the sick bed of a dear relation in danger of death, is a most glorious time for exercising a number of Christian graces. Such a scene as this keeps the mind in a most proper temper, humble, recollected, serious; and in your particular circumstances, this illness of **** has freed you from most of the snares you apprehended. How does every thing work together for good to those who love God! And how ungrateful is that heart, which does not strive more and more to love him in deed and in truth! What, my love, are the inward temptations you complain of, and what are those unaccountable scruples? The best thing you can do is not to argue about them in your own mind, but immediately fly to prayer; and if you cannot pray, only wish earnestly to pray. *’Tis right, that you should think yourself the vilest creature breathing, and I am every day more and more convinced, that every soul which really loves God must necessarily in its own particular think the same: and in whatever proportion the love of God increases in the soul, in the same proportion will the sense of its own vileness and helplessness increase, till at last it is in a manner annihilated before God. This is a point which the wisdom of the world cannot understand, and which no scheme of doctrine can teach the heart; but when we truly know Jesus Christ crucified, then we can truly cry out, What! to me such love? to the vilest and most ungrateful of all creatures? O whence such love to me?

I grieve for the sin you fell into. Had the temper of your mind been really charitable, you certainly could not lightly have spoken evil of any one. Nothing is more contrary to the true spirit of the gospel, than this want of universal love. And yet there is nothing so common even among those who in most other respects are unblameable. How ought we every moment to watch! Oh when shall we indeed be renewed after the image of Christ! Adieu.

WHAT, my dear companion, can I write so animating as your present circumstances? God seems, I think, in a most peculiar manner to watch over your soul for good. What interesting, what heart-affecting scenes have you gone through? The account I had of your **** death, has made me see the goodness of God to you in the strongest light, and I am ready to shudder, when I think that it is possible, even after all this, that you should again be ungrateful. Oh watch every moment! Think what horrors and agonies you must feel, if you should now suffer your heart to turn aside from this tender and merciful God! The circumstances you are now in are like five talents given to your care. Remember ♦you are to gain with them five talents more, or expect to hear these dreadful words — Thou slothful and wicked servant. Your heavenly Father seems to be making a plain way before your face. I see you in a light almost prophetical. I rejoice, and yet I tremble. You seem pointed out, I think, as an instrument in the hands of God for the conversion of Miss ****; but here you will be in danger from your old enemies, pride, and love of teaching, and above all that self-setting-up which you have found so difficult to overcome. O my dear love, fail not every hour of the day to pray particularly for humility. I trust you are not in danger from any increase of fortune. No surely. The heart of my beloved friend cannot be so mean and low, as to pride itself in dross and dirt. Perhaps you will find some difficulties in regard to the tempers of your ****; how necessary will it be for you in this case to place constantly before your eyes the meekness and lowliness of the Lamb of God? And fear not, you will in all these things be more than conqueror through him, who has loved you.

IPITY you, my dear friend; I saw yesterday that your head was full, and your heart not so warm towards God as it sometimes is. Oh when shall we be free from these distractions? Or rather when shall our love to our Redeemer be so intense, that our hearts may be constantly fixed on him, and we (as it were) walk through the fire without being burnt? *I remember having sometimes said to you the beginning of last summer, “There is more a vast deal in faith than we all imagine;” and though, thanks to the free grace of God, we both know more of faith now, than we did at that time, yet I may still repeat the saying, and may continue to repeat it, till our eyes are fully opened in eternity. “All things are possible to him that believeth,” said the God of truth; and why then do not you and I conquer all sin? Because we do not believe. The unbounded riches of the grace of God in Christ Jesus are hardly more astonishing, than the perverseness of that soul, which will not fully trust in them. Christ stands ever ready to save to the uttermost, if we will but believe, that he can, and will do it; and we draw back and shrink from his redeeming hand. We suffer the dark clouds of our fallen nature to obscure the glorious light of the promises of God. And though our heads may be fully convinced of their truth, and we may have some desires of attaining them, yet there is in the centre of our souls an hidden root of unbelief, which just as we are going to lay hold on the prize, whispers — “How can these things be?” and then we sink. I have heard it observed of the eagle, that she holds her young ones full against the bright beams of the mid day sun: if they behold it stedfastly, she nourishes them, but if they turn away their heads or shut their eyes, she dashes them to the ground. There is something very striking in this. A nominal believer, who makes a profession of holiness, has all the outward marks of a true believer, as these dastard eagles have of the others; but he cannot look stedfastly at the glorious beams of the Sun of Righteousness: and how dreadful is the consequence? Oh my love, how ought we to watch and pray! How careful ought we to be not to lose sight for one moment of our immaterial sun, lest the eye of our minds should by that means contract a dimness and weakness, which might render us incapable of stedfastly beholding him, when he shall appear in all the fulness of his glory. May the God of mercy preserve you in all temptations, and be your portion in time and in eternity.

My dear Friend,

IPRAISE God with my whole heart for your happiness and strength, and I pray him to increase it every moment. O may that blessed peace never leave your soul: it is eternal life begun, and ten thousands laid in the balance with this peace would be all lighter than vanity. It is a glorious sign, that in outward troubles, or inward temptations, you can leave the means of your deliverance intirely to God, without suffering your imagination to run out after the manner in which you probably may be delivered. O that we could always venture ourselves upon the mercies of our God! Then would he indeed work wonders for us — wonders which we now can scarce believe, though the God of truth himself declares them unto us. And this God will surely keep you in the dangers to which you are going to be exposed, if you will be watchful to keep the eye of your mind constantly turned towards him, and wait and hang upon him, as a little child on its fond parent, drawing all your help, all your comfort from him, and him alone. If you have but little outward retirement, shut more closely the door of your heart, and there in its inmost recesses commune with your God, and Redeemer, there be continually crying unto him — Lord thou knowest all things, thou knowest that I love thee; thou knowest, O life and joy of my soul, that I desire nothing but to do thy perfect will, and to be conformed to the likeness of thy sufferings, as well as to the likeness of thy resurrection. Oh crucify in me the whole body of sin! Give me an humble, a mortified, and child-like spirit, and in thine own good time perfect the work thou hast begun in my soul.

As to examples which are not good, I hope I may say, that all the effect they can have upon my beloved friend (in her present happy state of mind) will be to drive her nearer to her God, and in that nearness what comfort does the believing soul find?

What tho’ earth and hell engage

To shake that soul with fear;

Calmly it defies the rage

Of persecution near.

Suffering faith shall brighter grow,

As gold when in the furnace tried:

Only Jesus will we know,

And Jesus crucified.

Yes, my love, let those who stile themselves our best friends join with the world in calling us mopes and enthusiasts. Still stedfastly fixed on the rock which cannot be moved, we will endure, nay joyfully take up the reproach for his sake, who hid not his blessed face from shame and spitting for our sakes, to make us (accursed and lost creatures) heirs of eternal glory. Oh that his strength may but accompany us, and the light of his countenance continually abide with us; and then we shall not fail to go on conquering and to conquer. Amen.

For God’s sake avoid disputes of all kinds. I was delighted the last time you was with me, to observe that you was greatly altered for the better in this respect. Think not that I will omit to pray for you, and fail not to pray for me. Oh my friend, soon will time be swallowed up in eternity.

IREADILY believe you, my dear friend, that you have not brought back the same heart you carried with you: for I thought I discovered the two last times I saw you, a falling off from the grace you had, and the happy state of mind you had been in; but for God’s sake strive to recover yourself before you are sunk lower. Think how dreadful your case will be, if you should so grieve the Spirit of God, as to cause him to depart from you. I know your heart to be ungrateful and deceitful, and you yourself know full well how much it is so; but fear not to search into its most hidden corruptions. Was it ten times more vile and polluted than it is, the blood of Jesus is all-sufficient to cleanse it. And my dear soul, let me intreat of you earnestly to seek after a clear and constant sense of the pardoning love of God. This only can enable you to trample all temptations under your feet: believe me, unless you really walk in the light of his countenance, you never can conquer all the powers and works of darkness. Oh seek the peace which passes all understanding. You have need enough of it, I am sure, considering the many snares you walk in. I really fear you do not diligently seek after God: ’tis very certain they that seek shall find; and therefore that the Redeemer is not fully manifested in your soul is entirely owing to your sloth and negligence. How is it possible for you to keep your ground against temptations which are continually striking upon your senses, unless you have in you the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen? When our understandings are clear in gospel doctrines, we are too apt to imagine our hearts are so. My dear friend, for God’s sake deceive not yourself. Oh suffer not your soul to rest, till you can say with full assurance of faith, “My sins are forgiven.” Depend upon it this is the first step in true Christianity. Oh cry to God every moment from the bottom of your heart, and he will do more for you, than you can either ask or think. I am a witness of his free and boundless mercy. For some days past I have been in the wilderness, my soul weary, faint, and desolate; no rejoicing in God; not one ray from the Sun of Righteousness: but this morning, this blessed morning, my Beloved returned to my soul, and I rejoiced with joy unspeakable, and could say with the fullest assurance, “My sins are done away — Christ is mine — God the Father is my reconciled Father — God the Holy Ghost is my comforter and guide.” *Oh my friend, my heart is now so overwhelmed I can scarce write. I could repeat a thousand and a thousand times over — Christ is mine. My soul is ready to spring out of its prison, and I could at this moment face death in all its horrible prospects to go to my Redeemer. Oh death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? My dear love, you know not what you lose by your negligence. O seek, strive, agonize; could you suffer the utmost tortures in body or mind, they would be all as nothing to gain one moment of this sweetness: and Oh pray for me, that I may not by sinning grieve the blessed Comforter, and lose my present peace. God be with you my dear friend. God bless you both now and for ever.

My dear friend,

IMOURN for you, and may you mourn too from your very inmost soul, till God himself gives you the true comfort. Oh thou dear backslider, what shall I say? How shall I find words strong enough to make a lasting impression on a heart so inconstant, so slothful, and careless? Oh that the Spirit of God would assist my weak endeavours, and point my otherwise unavailing words! You own you do not strive earnestly: alas I too plainly see you do not. But the blessed Comforter strives with you, and still you resist and grieve him. How irksome is it to me always to write the same thing? My dear soul, for God’s sake be more in earnest. How can you talk of sloth and carelessness, when you are standing on the brink of a precipice? Can you promise yourself another day? And are you fit to die in the state you are now in? Nay, are you not afraid to die? Oh if the Lord should say of you, as of the barren fig-tree, “Cut it down, why cumbereth it the ground,” how would you be overwhelmed with dread and confusion? For you who know so well what are the glorious promises of the gospel, to suffer your thoughts to run upon worldly things is inexcusable. It seems strange, that you should think you love Christ more than you did, when you was in a better state; however above all things hold fast, and strive to increase this love, but then at the same time take care that you hate sin in the same proportion, and that you strive against it with the utmost earnestness: for to talk of loving Christ, and at the same time to give way to sloth, carelessness, and worldly-mindedness, is an abominable mockery. If you are encompassed with ten thousand temptations never fear, so your own heart consent not to them. Your blessed Master will surely help you, if you can but trust him: and never give way, to that seeming impossibility of praying. Though perhaps you cannot pray with comfort, or with any kind of connection, yet if you be ever so distracted you may surely cry, Lord, have mercy upon me — Jesus, pity me. Or even supposing you could not do this from your heart, ask yourself whether you do not desire to pray; and if you do, thank God for that desire, and the next thought will be prayer. Could you not make the increase of your family profitable, by joining at stated times of the day in some act of devotion? If it were but for one quarter of an hour at a time, there would doubtless be a blessing attending it. Suppose you were to sing an hymn together, or by turns pray, either from some form of prayer, or what would be better, extempore. You ought rather to be silent, and be thought a mope, than to join in trifling discourse. Consider, my love, you are to set an example to your young friends; and fear not but God will deliver you from this bondage into the glorious liberty of his children. The feeble trust you now have is the work of his blessed Spirit, and he will increase it into an holy confidence. Let not therefore your comfort sicken, but trust in that Jesus, who died that you might live; to whose all-merciful bosom I commit you,

And am your affectionate Friend, &c.

My dear Friend,

IHOPE your present circumstances do not prevent your constant watching over your own heart, and pressing forward in the way of holiness. In the midst of all these prospects death may come! And are you fit to die? We cannot too often ask ourselves this question. We cannot be too serious. There is only a moment between us and eternity. May the Lord Jesus so prepare us, that at whatever hour he calls we may be ready, our lamps trimmed, and we ourselves as those who wait for the bridegroom. Adieu, my dear. May the Almighty preserve you from all evil.

OF what service, my dear love, can any thing I say be of to you? I have tried all means in my power to keep your mind more steady but in vain. If God has at any time so blessed my letters, that they have made any impression on you it has gone off in two or three days: and when you have had those great benefits indeed of conversing with living Christians, though for a time you have been raised and lively, yet you have soon sunk into your former sloth and carelessness. There must certainly be some hidden corruption in your heart, which causes this inconstancy. I often study you as I would a book, but you are in truth one of the most puzzling books I ever met with. I often rejoice to see in you (as I think) an increase of grace, and a decrease of that pride and selfishness, which under an appearance of humility you once had to a great degree. The last time you was with me, I thought you greatly advanced; and now you are fallen again into pride and selfishness. The Lord Jesus raise you up. Indeed, my dear soul, you grieve and wound me. You bring sorrow in my heart, and tears in my eyes: nay and sometimes your letters tempt me to impatience; but then I immediately recollect my own continual backslidings, and the long-suffering of God towards me, and can I be impatient with my friend? If your want of retirement is not owing to yourself, never lay your coldness upon that: for was your heart sincere, God would strengthen you at all times to look up to him. But if as you say, you trifled away your time, and indulged an unwillingness to prayer, no wonder God with-held that portion of his grace he would otherwise have given you. Depend upon it, whenever you find an unwillingness to pray, that of all times is the most proper for you to pray in; therefore never say on such an occasion, “I will go read some good book, or do some good work, which may perhaps bring my mind into a better frame for prayer.” No, do not so foolishly; but go, and prostrate yourself before God with all your unwillingness; and he will soon give you both the will and the power to praise him. Amen.

My dear Friend,

IT is impossible for me to judge rightly, till I know more of your affair, and then I doubt not, but God, if we ask in sincerity, will direct us both to agree in our sentiments, as to what will be most conducive to your eternal welfare. However thus much I can say, be not unequally yoked with an unbeliever. To marry a man in hopes of making him a Christian, will be leading yourself into temptation. The advantages you speak of may doubtless be great blessings to you, if you are very certain you can enjoy them. You ought to be very explicit with the person, whoever he is, both with regard to your sentiments and his own heart. You cannot imagine the continual snares you will walk in, if you are joined to one, who is not joined to Christ; especially if you have any fondness for him. As in a married state there are more allurements to draw the mind from God than in a single one, so (if the companion be a Christian) there are also advantages in it, which perhaps may almost make the balance even. But how dreadful will it be, if he who should be your help, prove to you an occasion of falling? Above all things, my dear, try the sincerity of your own heart. Examine well whether you can accept this offer with a single eye to the glory of God, and the good of your own soul; and fear not, if you ask counsel of God in faith nothing wavering, that he will give you freedom of mind, either to accept or refuse as will be most profitable for you.

I do not wonder that your soul is at present distracted with worldly thoughts. An affair of this kind always occasions a thousand distractions, especially where it is in suspense. I fear your increase of company does not at all add to your spiritual happiness. The Lord Jesus bless you: I pity you. What need have we of continual assistance from above? How do we walk as on burning coals? O let us strive for that state of mind, in which we can say, nothing gives me pain but what is contrary to the will of God, and tends to draw my soul from him; and nothing gives me pleasure, but as it is agreeable to his will, and tends to draw my soul nearer to him. Amen.

My dear Soul,

IAM glad to write to you once more under the name of ****, and I hope God will give me strength to say all I wish at this important juncture. Important it is indeed to you; and the nearer the time approaches, the more I feel for you. Alas, you are now plunging into difficulties, which you can have no notion of until you experience them. You will have need of more than double watchfulness. Oh cry earnestly to God for grace and strength to keep your soul from sinking under the delusive arguments, which your three grand enemies, the world, the flesh, and the devil will be continually attacking you with in your new state of life. You know, my love, in all our intercourse, I have not failed to set before you the disadvantages and distractions you must necessarily meet with in a married life. This I thought it my duty to do, though your intentions in regard to marriage were always founded upon Christian motives. Had I found you inclined to dedicate yourself more particularly to God in a single state, I should doubtless have encouraged that inclination; but as this was not the case, and I did not dare absolutely to dissuade any one from marrying, I have therefore only strove to guard you against the evils attending that condition, and pray God grant you may find them overbalanced by the good. The first evil, which people are apt to fall into when they marry, is an extreme selfishness: this I have seen most flagrant instances of, but then the people were not Christians. Oh my friend, remember you have taken upon you the sacred name of Christian. The next thing which our sex in particular is very subject to, is a pretty indolence of soul, and a kind of hugging themselves as though they were become people of vast consequence; and then all they say or do, and every thing which belongs to them, is of importance. You will think perhaps there is no danger of your falling into any thing so low and silly as this; but do not think so, for without extreme watchfulness it will steal imperceptibly upon you, and if you once grow important, the flood-gates of worldly-mindedness will be set open, and your faith, your love, and peace, will be borne away by the impetuous torrent. The Lord Jesus bless you and keep you, and grant that in all the changes of this mortal life, your heart may there be fixed where true joys are to be found.

Your ever-affectionate

****

My dear Friend,

IKNOW not how to assume to myself the character you mention, and yet I dare not neglect to do any thing, which you tell me may be of benefit to your soul. I know God can convey blessings by the meanest instrument, and relying wholly on his power and goodness, I enter again into this correspondence. You complain that I have not lately been so watchful over you as usual: In writing I certainly have not, and you know the reason; but as to speaking, if I have there failed, it is entirely owing to my being so apt to think highly of you. I fear in this I may have dealt with you as with my own heart — judged too favourably of both. May God give me a clearer insight both into you and into myself.

*I doubt not but your present condition contributes greatly to your being more in earnest, and you have need to lay up all the strength you can against what may be a time of trial indeed. I am glad you found such a blessing on Sunday. I doubt not but the greater degree of light and joy you have, the more you will be assaulted by temptations, and these perhaps not only of a strange, but also of an impertinent and ridiculous kind. The devil will sometimes play the buffoon: but I have found the best way of dealing with these temptations was not to combat them, but to let them pass through the mind, as you would let a troublesome croud of people pass by your door without regarding them.

*The speaking evil of your neighbour before you are aware, though it has not all the blackness of premeditated evil speaking, yet it is a sure sign, that you have not that spirit of love, without which the highest attainments are but as sounding brass, and as a tinkling cymbal. I often am sorry to see how much this divine temper is wanting amongst religious people. For my own part, I stand self-condemned in this, though it is a sin, which I have even a natural aversion to; and I fear there are but few hearts in which this root of bitterness does not grow almost imperceptibly. However, the Captain of our salvation can give us to tread even this enemy under our feet. Let us therefore go on, nothing discouraged, trusting in his help, and following his steps, until we apprehend, that for which we are apprehended of this divine leader.

Your ever affectionate and faithful, &c.

My dear Friend,

*MR.
V. has desired me to meet Dr.
**** at his house; but though I honour the character of that worthy man, yet I rather fear,
than desire to do this. I really now dread the being set up as something to be thought well of. I see such a depth of pride and self-love in my own heart, that I dread any thing, which can give the least food to these hellish tempers. I am well satisfied, that there can be no perfect peace, no perfect love, till these be done away. Was not the blessed Jesus meek and lowly of heart? Was not he despised and rejected? And we? Oh, my dear love, tremble for yourself and for me. We are esteemed, admired, and sought after. Do we not, think you, tread upon burning coals? How dangerous, how difficult to act for the glory of God, without sacrificing something to self? And this self is all that separates from God — this self is all that keeps the blessings both of time and eternity from our souls. Oh let us learn, and know and feel, that we are nothing, and that God is all in all. Certain it is that unless we die with Christ, we cannot rise to his life. Unless we are crucified with him here, we cannot reign with him hereafter. Let us then nail our corrupt nature to his cross, and continually mortify every temper that is contrary to his perfect will. Suffer we must; but the love of God will make all sufferings sweet, and his grace will enable us to conquer all difficulties. I rejoice at the victory, which you tell me has been given you over (I suppose) some reigning sin. Is not this encouragement to press forward? If you would preserve constant peace and recollection,
look more into your own heart, and lay not out yourself too much upon others. I have seen so much of the ill effects of this, that I dread it both for you and myself. Watch continually.

Your ever affectionate, &c.

****

YOUR letter, my dear life, has given me great pleasure. This is indeed, as it ought to be. And Oh by no means suffer this anxious desire after God, this thirst after holiness to abate; only let it be mixed with that kind of resignation, which implies a willingness to suffer, so you may be kept from sin. The pain you speak of I rejoice in. Oh my love, this is right; and may you more and more be conformed to Jesus Christ, and him crucified. A soul thus pained, thus longing, thus struggling for salvation, and at the same time lying low at the foot of the cross, and crying, “Lord thy will be done,” is an object in which the holy angels rejoice, nay on which God himself looks down well pleased. To such a soul every gospel blessing is near at hand. The Sun of Righteousness is on the point of rising in it with healing in his wings; the eternal Comforter is ready to witness with it, that it is born of God, and to fill it with that peace, which passeth all understanding. The blessed and adorable Trinity is ready to raise it from its fallen state, and to perfect the new creation. What encouraging prospects! Only let not this happy pain be taken from you by any comfort the world can give, but hold it dear to your heart, as light to your eyes, till God himself change it to joy unspeakable.

*I have long thought that to wish for any thing, but the salvation of our own souls and that of others is wrong: because in nothing else can we be sure that our wishes are agreeable to the will of God. I do not know how to believe, that you could wish for more riches; and if the being pleased with the thoughts of gain proceeded only from this motive, that you thought God was putting it more in your power to relieve the necessities of others, I would not dare to condemn you: but it is so difficult to take any satisfaction of this kind without some mixture of worldly-mindedness, that we cannot be too careful in this respect; nay we ought rather to fear lest we should not be found faithful stewards of the talents put into our hands, as knowing, that both in spiritual and temporal blessings, “To whom much is given, of them shall much be required.”

My dear Friend,

IF it should please God to make any thing I write of benefit to your soul, I should greatly rejoice, but without that my words will avail nothing. And really the account you give of yourself at present is so strange, that I know not how to speak to you, or whether harshness or love is most necessary. This I know, that my own soul is greatly pained for you, but I dare not flatter you, “If any man hath not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his;” and doubtless to take a pleasure in exposing the faults of others is a temper as distant from the Spirit of Christ, as hell is from heaven. *Believe me, my dear life, if the love of God reigned in your heart, you would rather cover than expose the faults even of the vilest of men. And when obliged for their own good, or the warning of others, to speak to the disadvantage of any one, you would do it with fear and caution, at the same time looking up to God, lest any bitterness should mix, either with your thoughts or words. God is love, and infinite streams of love are perpetually flowing from him through all created nature. His acts of judgment as well as mercy are only acts of love, and designed either to remove or to lessen the evils occasioned by the fall of angels and of man; and the soul which is born of God will as necessarily partake of this divine principle of universal love, as the child you now carry within you partakes of your corrupt nature. You have great reason then to tremble, while this temper has any footing in your soul. Don’t sit down contented, because you have intervals of recollection, but wrestle mightily with God in fervent prayer, until he speak peace to your soul, and his love be shed abroad in your heart, before which this evil disposition will fly as a mist before the morning sun. You greatly affect me by what you say in regard to the expected hour of danger; but fear not. No creature on earth can be more unworthy than I am; and the God of mercy protected me, and gave me strength, and courage, and calmness; and I doubt not but he will shew the same mercy to you: nay I have a strong confidence he will in your hour of extremity give you a clearer sense of his pardoning love, than you have yet experienced. Fear not, only believe, “All things are possible to him that believeth.”

It has pleased God within these few days to give me a severe trial, and eternal glory be to his name, I have stood it, crying only, Lord, thy will be done. My little boy was taken on Saturday evening with strong convulsions, and between that time and Sunday evening, had I believe, full forty fits. He is now much better. God is ever merciful: he brings to the borders of the grave, and raises up again. O how good it is to suffer? How glorious to have grace triumph over nature? How sweet to lay low at the foot of the cross, and bless God for every thing which more conforms us to the suffering Jesus? Be watchful, and earnest. Adieu.

My dear Friend,

*WHERE the consideration of the prophecies is a means of stirring any one up to greater diligence, or making them sit looser to the things of this world, and seek more earnestly after the things of God, they cannot consider them too attentively. Every soul should carefully observe that way, in which God particularly leads it, and punctually follow every means which it finds by experience brings it nearer to God. Some are awakened and brought low by meditating on the severe judgments of God; others are melted down by reflecting on his mercies. Some are employed usefully to themselves, and it may be to others, by accurately considering the several amazing dispensations of God in the whole scheme of our redemption. Others by a more simple and general view of God, as infinite wisdom and infinite love, rest calmly on his will, and though in a lower and less shining way, pursue the same end, viz. salvation by the blood of the Lamb from the power as well as from the guilt of sin, and union with the pure fountain of all happiness. All these ways are good in themselves, and are made so to every soul, which in them follows the leadings of the Spirit of God. But I may make that, which is good in itself, evil to me, by using it only because another thinks it right, and not because I find it the means which most unites my soul to Christ; and therefore we ought never to blame any one for not being affected by that which affects us.

’Tis very certain that the judgments of God are now abroad in the earth, and that some of the signs of the last times plainly appear; this (whether the calculation in the letter be right or wrong) is obvious to every one, and calls aloud for seriousness and watchfulness. Happy are those who shall stand unmoved in the time of temptation. Happy are those who when all nature is agonizing around them can fly to the only rock of refuge, and there find shelter from the storm, and shadow from the heat. But above all happy are those, who shall have the glory of suffering for their Redeemer, of sealing their testimony with their blood, or in the midst of the fire shouting for joy, and blessing God for a martyr’s crown. These, these are glorious prospects, and weak as we are, should God honour us with a trial like this, he would also give us strength to be more than conquerors. In the mean time let us not be weary or faint in our minds, but manfully fight till we obtain complete victory over our evil hearts; and then shall we stand with humble confidence even before our judge, and though all nature was dissolved, we should remain unshaken, and be wholly swallowed up in joy full of glory. Amen, Lord Jesus.

My dear Friend,

*I THANK you for your last letter, and I bless God, that you was not offended at mine. This bearing of plain-dealing is a comfortable proof to me of your sincerity. If temptations increase, God will give a proportionable increase of strength. There wants nothing but faithfulness on your part to the grace already given. I know not the particulars of your sufferings, but I know it is good to suffer. It is a discipline all must go through, who make any tolerable advance in the school of Christ. I could wish you to seek more after religion, than comfort. Constant and heart-felt resignation is a bulwark against every trial, and a foundation for solid peace, and joy transcendently pure. The whole state of a soul made perfect in love stands in that one petition, Thy will be done: and if we could but preserve that temper which these words describe, I know not what could hurt us. Suppose now when I first wake in a morning I should lift up my heart, “Lord I bless thee for this new day which thou hast given me. In this day I shall have fresh manifestations of thy will concerning me, either in comforts or in sufferings. Lord, I am thy creature, deal with me as it shall please thee: only leave me not to myself, but let thy grace be sufficient for me, and thy strength be made perfect in my weakness.” When settled in this frame of mind, suppose my trials to begin. I am tempted by the perverseness and evil tempers of my own family to impatience, to anger; but I immediately recollect myself, “Lord it is thy will I should bear this; pardon their perverseness, and give me to be thankful for every opportunity of self-denial and forbearance.” Well! now another, and more difficult trial appears. I am to behave to people, whom I know to be my bitter enemies, whom I know to be continually seeking occasions of evil against me, as if they were my dear friends. Here every faculty of the soul is alarmed, and nature shrinks back affrighted. But what does grace say? “Lord I thank thee for this glorious trial! What a blessing is it I should be permitted to drink of the same cup my Saviour drank of! Oh bless these mine enemies; fill their hearts with thy love; let thy will be perfected both in them and me.” This temptation is conquered, but another and a more trying one immediately succeeds. I am treated unkindly by people I love, and who are really my friends. Here my heart is wounded, it sinks, it is ready to faint; but recovering itself it rests upon God, and says, “Lord, even in this, thy will be done, and let the sufferings of Christ be perfected in me, that I may be also a partaker of his glory.” In this manner one might instance in all kinds of affliction, and find comfort and strength in each.

I know not how to think so meanly of you, as to imagine your heart in danger of being drawn away by the world. But I know I am always apt to set you in too high a light, and it may be so, in this case; this one thing however I am sure of, that we are fighting for eternity, and this against innumerable enemies, dangerous ones without, but far more dangerous ones within. If the Lord himself was not on our side, how could we maintain our ground one moment. To his almighty protection I commend you and yours, and am

Your ever-affectionate, &c.

To the Rev. Mr. ****.

Dear Sir,

IAM much obliged to you for your kind concern on my account. My illness I believe is rather troublesome than dangerous, a disorder
in my stomach, which has been attended with a slight fever. I was ill, when you and Mr.
**** were to see me though I did not complain, and I looked upon it as a particular blessing: for had my spirits been in their full flow, an event so much wished, would have too much elated me: but my disorder served to keep the balance of my mind even. I see the goodness of God to me in every thing, and therefore sickness or health, life or death are equally welcome to me, as coming from the same gracious hand. Nature, its true, shrinks at suffering, but grace triumphs in resignation, and is thankful for the dispensation of the present moment, without wishing or willing in regard to the future. But I hope to learn some lessons of this kind from you next Sunday. Till then farewell, and may the fulness of every gospel blessing rest upon your soul.

Your’s, &c.

****

Dear Sir,

THE judgments of God upon Lisbon are dreadful indeed. I know not what heart can be hard enough to hear of them without concern. What but the amazing mercy of a long-suffering God can prevent London from feeling the same dreadful blow! And if God should arise to shake terribly our land, what great reason will those persons have to be thankful, whom God has drawn from all worldly schemes of happiness, and fixed their hearts on a basis, which can never be shaken, though the earth be moved, and the mountains cast into the midst of the sea? I have been much comforted in respect of the miseries of others by this scripture — When the judgments of God are abroad in the earth, the inhabitants thereof will learn righteousness. If such a blessed end is produced by these severe acts of justice, have we not reason even in the midst of terror to admire and adore? The whole universe appears to me to be in the hand of God, as a grain of dust in the balance; and I, a creature more insignificant, more worthless, and sinful than can be conceived, am among the rest in this almighty hand, and all is safe. My heart is by nature painfully tender, and yet in the midst of feeling, either for myself or others, there is a secret satisfaction in my inmost soul, that God is glorified in every act of his providence, whether of judgment or mercy; and I hardly know how to form any other prayer than Thy will be done.

I fear I shall not see you on Thursday;――but wherever you are, may the God of all consolation be your light and your shield, and bring you safe to that city, which has eternal foundations.

I am your ever-obliged friend and servant, &c.

*BY what you said to Mr. **** when he had the pleasure of hearing you, I imagine you think my illness is owing to a cause of which I am by no means certain; however the bare probability of such a charge would not be without my immediately reflecting on the dangers and temptations that would attend it. A soul, that is really desirous of attaining the pure love of God, is exceedingly jealous of any thing that has a possibility of drawing it from its centre of happiness, and looks upon any event which has this possible tendency (let the world term it blessing or misfortune) with a tender, anxious fear, which none can understand but those who have felt it. This was my case, and my imagination would sometimes paint a thousand instances which might draw my soul down to earth. And this fear (though it never made me wish any thing but what was the will of God) would bring the tears to my eyes, and cause an uneasiness, which doubtless proceeded from want of faith. But that God whose mercies are renewed every morning, soon delivered me from those fears, and calm peace, perfect resignation and watchfulness succeeded. And for this fortnight past, though I have been in continual uncertainty, whether I should continue in the condition I am thought to be in or not, my mind by the all-sufficient grace of God has been so equally kept, that I have not had the least wish or choice of my own, but have been equally pleased with whatever seemed to be the leadings of Providence concerning me. And you cannot think, what a work of annihilation this uncertainty has been the means of carrying on in my soul, which I see plainly in the nature of things could not so well have been effected by any other. I never can be enough thankful for the unspeakable mercies of God to so unworthy a creature. My will has been brought into deadness, which I, even a few months ago, should have thought almost impossible; and I see, and have some foretastes of that state which is called the pure and disinterested love of God, in a manner I cannot express.

I should be very glad to see you when your affairs will permit, for I have not had one help from without since I saw you last; nor have I had many of those joys and comforts from within which have sometimes been indulged me. And indeed my animal frame would have been too weak to have borne them, unless God had in a particular manner supported it: for every faculty of my soul has been weighed down by continual sickness. I have not only been incapable of any outward application, but also of intense thinking or fervent prayer. But in the midst of this my weakness, the strength of God has more abundantly been made manifest, that I might be abased even to the dust, and his free grace exalted; so
that I well understand what St.
Paul meant, when he said, Therefore will I glory in weakness, in distresses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. — But I must finish this already too long letter. Farewell! May the dew of heaven continually refresh you!

****

January 19, 1756.

Dear Sir,

IAM much obliged to you for your letter, from which I have learnt a very useful lesson, viz. Never to fancy that the particular circumstances of others would be more advantageous to me than my own. You are ready almost to envy me my many hours of retirement; when at the same time, I am continually complaining that I have so few, and often crying out, when shall I have a whole day to myself? And then I frequently think, were I a man and in the ministry, my time would then be all spent for God; but now, what an inundation of trifling flows in upon me, which ’tis impossible for me to avoid, without altogether going out of the world.

I enter upon the subject, on which you bid me write with fear and trembling. My abilities are really far from being equal to it: for although I know many Christians, who would immediately cry out, that it needed not one moment’s consideration, I dare not do so; for I now really feel the weight of it upon my soul. *’Tis a most alarming truth, that a minister may speak with the tongue of men and of angels, and that the power of God may so accompany his words as to make them the means of converting thousands; and yet for want of duly searching into his own heart, he may suffer it to be overgrown with poisonous weeds, with tempers and inclinations, which if unsubdued, will absolutely shut him out from the kingdom of glory, to which he is leading others. How easy for a man who is continually setting forth the glorious truths of the gospel, and inforcing holiness of heart and life, to imagine (for want of constant self-examination) that he himself is what he preaches? This is a most dangerous snare; and therefore how absolutely necessary is that retirement which affords opportunity for a diligent search into the recesses of the heart, and gives the soul leisure to wait in awful silence before God, where, free from every object of sense, and from the workings of imagination, it may with all its faculties prostrate before the eternal Trinity, and feel itself to be nothing, and God to be all in all? But then it may be asked, shall not a man who with singleness of heart, spends and is spent for the service of God, be so kept by divine grace, that his soul shall suffer no loss by the want of retirement? Doubtless. Where sincerity and singleness of heart are preserved, that soul shall be defended as with a shield. But this I take to be the grand temptation of every minister of the gospel; he sets out perhaps (though this is not always the case) with a single view to the glory of God and the salvation of souls. The power of God accompanies his words, the hearts of the people fall under him. His reputation daily increases, till at last he becomes popular. He sees himself surrounded by a croud of people, who for the most part hear him as an angel of God, their thirsty souls gasping after the truths he utters. An innocent and an holy joy fills his heart; “Here are souls that may be won to Christ, and that by me! Lord, what amazing love, that I who am the least of all thy servants should be thus blest!” — So far all is well, all is happy: but the subtil enemy of mankind so strongly impresses this, by me, that a self-complacency, separate from the glory of God, arises in his heart, and this, if not immediately quelled, leads him to the brink of a precipice. God still, for the sake of others, continues his usefulness; but every conversion which he is the means of making, is fresh food for his self-love; and by degrees he becomes so dead to the love of God, that he preaches even the purest doctrines of the gospel, with the same spirit, with which a lawyer pleads at the bar. But on the contrary, that blessed servant of Christ who stedfastly pursues the narrow path, who conquers every rising of self-love in its first appearance, and constantly refers all the good he does or speaks to the author and giver of all good, he shall be kept in all his ways, and blest in all his works. And though his soul may pant for retirement, as thinking he should there enjoy nearer communion with God, and make higher advances in the divine life, this may not perhaps be immediately permitted him: but in order that his future crown may be the brighter, God may make his present usefulness a sure sign to him, that he ought to continue his constant labours for others, though it should be with much temptation, fear, and trembling. However this is very certain, that God to a servant thus sincere, will point out a plain path, either by inward leadings which cannot be mistaken, or outward providences. — Adieu! Pardon the weakness of this; let me see you the first time you have to spare, and believe me

Your ever obliged and affectionate servant,

****

Dear Sir,

WHATEVER the Spirit of God makes useful to my heart, either from scripture or from spiritual authors, I thankfully receive, and give him the glory: but I well know there is but one great touch-stone, by which all doctrines are to be tried; and therefore I hope your kind fears for me, lest I should not enough esteem the written word of God, are needless. I am so far from setting any human writer on a footing with this, that I scarcely read them at all, i. e. in comparison of my bible. I look over some few, but this is very different from the manner of reading you recommend, and which I strive by the grace of God to practise; nay, it would be the greatest slavery to me you can conceive, if I were obliged to read many religious books: however I return you the sincerest thanks for your care, and beg you will in all things watch over me with a “godly jealousy.” — But my dear friend, could you imagine that I enquired after the state of your mind according to the common acceptation of the word? I only desired to know what spiritual blessings you had both from without and within, that I might share them with you. And this I was emboldened to do by the sweet account you had given in your former letter, of the blessings you enjoyed at Bristol. The Lord refresh your soul continually with the rich streams of his redeeming love, and may his everlasting arms be beneath you! I know your present state, of hanging as it were in suspence between the visible and invisible world, is a dispensation big with divine love. And was I to pray for you that prayer which my soul most loves, it would be, “that you should lie in the hand of God as an instrument, without choice, till the will of God was perfected in you.” This would be the prayer of pure love and enlightened faith; but if I descended to the tenderness of friendship, I should ask your speedy recovery. If it should be given me to see you again in this world of vanity and woe, I shall be thankful, and perhaps it may be so: but I know not — something seems to whisper me that the thread both of your life and mine is nearly spun. For my part, I have within these few days had a sweet call to eternity, by a sudden and violent disorder in my stomach and bowels (called according to the fashionable phrase a nervous cholick) which seems to have set me a good way forwards on my journey. Happy pain! Kind messenger! O my friend, I have nothing but mercies to tell you of. So supported! Such wonderous grace! Such boundless love! I all sin and misery: the Saviour all tenderness and mercy: the probable approach of death delightful: no sting remaining. No clog upon my chariot-wheels. Mercies too from without which I had never before experienced in a time of sickness. The Rev. Mr. **** praying and singing by my bed, with such power of faith and love, such unction from above! Does this hurry the spirits? Does this endanger? How far from it? I protest not only my soul rejoiced, but even my body grew better as he prayed. Do not fail to thank God on my behalf, and pray for me that I may not be ungrateful to such amazing mercy. May the Lord Jesus preserve you, sweeten every pain, and make you rejoice continually with joy unspeakable and full of glory.

Your ever-affectionate and obliged friend,

****

June 7, 1756.

June 15, 1756.

Dear Sir,

YOUR very kind letter has pained me extremely, but I hope it has been made a means of humbling my soul before God. How little do I deserve that you should write to me in this manner? Alas you do not know me; I am less than the least of all the mercies of God; do not, I beseech you, think so highly of me; it really makes me ashamed of myself. Oh that I could be lower than the dust! Oh that I could shrink into nothing at the presence of my God! The way too in which you speak of yourself, puts me in a strange dilemma, I dare not pay religious compliments, and yet how shall I write to you, as if I believed you? How much greater has your cross of sickness been than mine? So long, so lingering, such inconveniences as it lays you under. But yet this is certainly no excuse for a soul, taught of God, as your’s is, to wish its removal. *Did you indeed wish for any thing but sanctification? Surely, my dear friend, you wrong yourself; it cannot be. Oh remember the glorious path you have often pointed out to me, of perfect resignation! I have considered you as a pattern to me, particularly in this. I must not think that you have any “reluctance to bear the cross;” it would wound my heart too much. Do I not know, that you love God above all things? Do not I know the sincere desires of your soul after holiness? And is there any way in the spiritual life, which so immediately leads to holiness, as willing suffering? Happy are those to whom God gives the grace of doing much for him, for his cause, for his people; but ten times more blessed are they who suffer with Christ. Is there a joy absolutely pure? It is that of suffering. Oh did we but know the health, the peace, the life that is at the bottom of every bitter cup; with what alacrity should we drink it? With what thankfulness, nay, with tears of joy, should we cry, Lord, what unbounded mercy, what astonishing grace is this, to a worm like me; that I should be led in this most excellent way; that I should be made to tread in those footsteps which are most eminently thine? Dearest Saviour, sweet is thy cross, sweet is thy thorny crown; thy stripes, thy wounds, thy pain, more delightful than beds of roses. Let other souls glory in mount Tabor; my joy shall be to stay with thee on mount Calvary, that I may be made conformable to thy death. Such would be the language of a soul truly sensible of the great benefit of suffering, and embracing, with sweet complacency, the cross, which thus united it with its Redeemer. May this be the language of your soul and mine; then shall we be found unshaken in the fiery trial, and come out as gold purified seven times. But after all, what suffering have I had in this illness? It can scarce be called suffering, when God sensibly supports. The suffering is when he leaves the soul (as it were alone) in pain or in affliction, to struggle with the powers of darkness, which at such a time eagerly beset it. This I have sometimes known, and this is suffering indeed. — I have the same confidence in God for my dear Mr. ****, that you have. Was I to be removed, I doubt not but it would be made a means of good to his soul; but it seems at present to be the will of God that I should continue some time longer. My inward weakness is not so great, and my pain, though pretty constant, is so slight, that it is scarce worth the mentioning. I thank God that your health is returning, and trust we shall meet again on this side the river; but in the mean time pray earnestly for me. I fear ease more than pain. Farewell! May you and I constantly join in this prayer, “Thy will be done in us, and by us, in time and in eternity!”

Your ever-obliged and affectionate friend,

****

July 1, 1756.

My dear Friend,

IRECEIVED your letter with much thankfulness, for I began to be very uneasy at not hearing from you in so long a time. And you have for these two days lain with such a weight on my spirit, that I know not how to account for it. I well know the manner in which the praise you bestowed was meant. But you know not how I dread self-complacency. And therefore though I often find that praise humbles me, yet it gives me a pain I know not how to express. I have indeed often heard you speak those words you mention, but they never affected me till now. And did you speak them “in the bitterness of your soul?” — Call me no more your friend! I am not worthy the name. How often have I heard them with unconcern, looking on them only as words of course, a kind of common-place humility. Will you forgive me? I promise you for the future I will pay more attention to every thing you say. I will not, by the grace of God, be so indolent and so faithless in the things which concern you as I have been. I know I am apt to think too highly of those I love, and I hate to be disturbed in the thought. You cannot imagine how ingenious I am in casting these burdens from me: a latent fear of displeasing, and a false humility, furnish me with arguments. “Why would I pretend to speak so and so, to people so much more advanced in grace than myself?” Not considering that God can work by the weakest and most unworthy. But cannot I pray for you? Oh my friend, if ever I have been wanting in ardent prayers for you, I hope never to be so again. That communion of spirit which I have with you in the life of Christ, shall I trust add wings to my prayers on your behalf, and gain new degrees of strength to my own soul.

*Your last letter is a comfortable earnest to me, that I shall at least have one companion in the way which God has sent me to walk in, the way of the cross, the inward crucifixion, as you so justly call it; (thanks be to God for this refreshment to my spirit!) Many speak of this, and because St. Paul mentions the being crucified with Christ, they preach about and about it; but I see plainly that you not only speak but feel. — And do you know so much of the bitterness of the creature? The Lord be praised! May you daily know it more and more! I am sure this experience will only make the hidden manna the sweeter. And I am equally sure, that those bitter draughts are absolutely necessary to every soul that would wholly give itself up to God. ’Tis easy to talk of the will being perfectly resigned, swallowed up in the will of God, &c. And while this only floats as a notion in the brain, no great sufferings will attend it. But when the soul really feels what this implies, that it is a being cut off from the creature, then it knows indeed what it is to suffer; then it fights as it were in the midst of the fire. Every thought must be brought into obedience to Christ; and God effects this in the soul as it is able to bear it: first one trial comes, then another. One strikes at love of the creature, another at self-love, a third at spiritual pride. And the fight continues till Christ has brought down all his enemies, and led captivity captive. And to attain this state of glorious liberty, who would not rejoice to suffer? What a coward must he be, who would fly from a field of battle, where to die is to conquer? Oh what blessed encouragements has a Christian to fight manfully! Let us not be weary or faint in our minds. We have not yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin; but let us not fail to do it. Have we not a captain who treads all the powers of death and hell under his feet? Is he not Jehovah, mighty to save? And has he not promised that he will save even to the uttermost? The way we have to travel is indeed long, and there are lions in it. But what of that! Jesus the deliverer is with us, and nothing shall hurt us.

Through Jesus we can all things do,

all things suffer, all things conquer, and what
would we more? Farewel! May the peace of God be with you, and make your soul to rest on him.

Your ever obliged and affectionate
Friend and Servant,

****

To Miss ****.

Wednesday Night, February 13, 1754.

ACOLD has been the means of preventing me from spending the evening in the trifling manner which you, my dear friend, have been forced to do; though I cannot but hope that your mind, in the midst of all this noise and nonsense, has been enabled to keep itself in a state of recollection; and that you are still more fully convinced that all, the world calls pleasure and gaiety, is mere vanity and vexation of spirit. — I thank you for your letter; it has given me great satisfaction, and fresh cause to praise God on your account: I rejoice in your joy, and may our gracious and kind Redeemer increase and establish your joy and peace in believing! You have indeed the utmost reason to be thankful, that such a work of mercy has been begun in your soul; and fear not but that blessed spirit who has convinced you of sin, and led you to look to the only means of deliverance, will perfect the work he has begun! What a happy sign, that you can already lay hold on, and apply the promises to yourself? O continue instant in prayer, for still greater degrees of faith; and shun as you would the most deadly poison, every action, word, and thought, which is contrary to the Spirit of God! And always reflect with the most thankful heart on the love of Christ to your soul. Think that our merciful Saviour is more ready to hear than we to pray. Think with what joy the father received the returning prodigal, and be assured that you and I, and every returning sinner, will be received with the same joy, cloathed with the same glorious robes, and admitted to sit down at the same feast, even the marriage-supper of the Lamb!

I am, with the utmost tenderness,
Your ever-affectionate and faithful Friend,

****

Wednesday Night, March 20, 1754.

*My dear Friend,

IAM rejoiced, and bless God that your mind was in so happy a state, while your body was in the midst of folly and confusion. You observe very justly, that those diversions are absolutely unfit for one who is seeking salvation. Nothing indeed can be more contrary to the spirit of the gospel, than what the world calls polite amusements. What can be more absurd than for one who desires to be a Christian, who desires the mind which was in Christ, who desires that justification by faith, which alone can produce in the heart true humility and meekness, deadness to the world, constant resignation to God, and fervent desire to do his will: than for such a person (in all the extravagance and glare of dress) to be swimming or skipping about a room, and wishing to draw the attention and admiration of the most vile and profligate part of the human species? What absurdity for such a person as this to sit in that house, which is as much devoted to the devil as the church is to God, for three hours together, to hear obscenities, at which a virtuous Heathen would have blushed? — If you ask twenty of the people who do these things, whether they are Christians, nineteen of them will answer, they are Christians to be sure! What do you think of them? Or if they are not now quite so good as they ought to be, they hope to be better by and by! But can a soul which truly seeks after salvation do these things? No certainly. And when the Spirit of God has wrought in a soul this hatred of the vanities it used to delight in, it has reason to rejoice indeed. What greater mark of the love of God to us, than his having thus drawn us to delight in himself? If we love a friend, we desire and strive that this friend may return our love, and joy and delight in us: and, amazing condescension! will the Creator of all things visible and invisible, the God who called angels and archangels into being, thus deal with us poor sinful worms? What heart can withstand such love? What heart but must at this thought sink into the dust, and lose itself in wonder, joy, and adoration? I have time for no more. Adieu.

****

BLESSED are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted! Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled. These are the words of the God of truth: and can you then, my dear friend, be discouraged because you are now mourning after this God, who only hides himself from you, that you may more earnestly seek him? — Heaviness may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. There certainly is no heaviness like this heaviness: when a soul has been sensible (though in the least degree) of the influences of the sun of righteousness, and finds his all-cheering beams withdrawn, how painful, how heavy is the darkness! This is indeed darkness that may be felt: but when the joy returns, what peace! What happiness! Look, my dear, on the material sun, observe how all the creation around you is brightened and gladdened when he shines; and be assured, that on your earnest seeking after Christ, he will in like manner shine again on your soul, and make it glad with the light of his countenance.

Your ever affectionate

****

Wednesday Night, April 1754.

July 19, 1754.

IAM very glad, my dear, that your mind is in so happy a state, and that you seem to have so true a sense of the littleness of all the world calls great and desirable. The love of God, and the love of the world are directly opposite to each other. And therefore St. John says, If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him: this is a sure rule to try ourselves by. We may talk well, and act well in some outward things; nay, perhaps be zealous for the genuine doctrines of the gospel: Yet all this while, if the love of the world remains in our hearts, we may be very certain we are no Christians. — I fear you have not much opportunity of being alone, but see from your letter you make good use of that you have. However God is both able and willing to preserve (either alone or in company) the soul which constantly looks towards him. I was afraid your being at **** might hurt you, but thank God, I had no cause for fear. You seem I think rather to advance than go back. Give God the glory! For whatever of good is in you, is all from his free and boundless mercy. And cease not constantly to fight, in the strength of your Redeemer, against every sin, and fear not but he will set you free, take off the heavy burden you complain of, and cloath you with his perfect righteousness. Adieu.

*YOU tell me, my dear, that your present dark state of mind is owing to your thoughts dwelling so much on worldly objects. But carry your sincerity yet a little further, and tell me if it is not some one particular object on which your thoughts are fixed, and which rivals your Creator in your heart? I much fear this is the case: and if so, you will find it very difficult to conquer, but let not any difficulty discourage you from striving to “pluck out this right eye, and cast it from you.” The grace of God is sufficient for you, his strength is made perfect in your weakness. And you may depend upon it, that as soon as ever you have given up your idol, the sun of righteousness will again arise in your soul with healing in his wings; the God of mercy will again be known by you, as your reconciled Father in Christ; and the blessed Spirit will lead, and guide, and fill you with that peace which passes all understanding; and you will walk in all the ordinances of the Lord rejoicing.

I am your ever affectionate and faithful friend,

****

Tuesday Morning, August 12, 1754.

My dear friend,

YOUR last letter gave me great pleasure: I sincerely rejoice in the happiness of your soul, as in that of my own, and I hope God will strengthen you more and more by his grace, so that you may forsake every thing for him. Above all, sacrifice your own will: let this constantly be the language of your heart, “Lord, not my will, but thine be done.” Strive not only to be content, but to rejoice in every thing that mortifies your corrupt nature. Hourly reflect, that you are a fallen creature, sent into this world for no other end than to be restored to that nature which our first father lost, and so be made fit for the kingdom of heaven. Remember, that Christ died for you, that you might live wholly to him; and the more you do this, the more you will certainly have of that peace which passeth all understanding.

I am your ever affectionate friend,

****

September 16, 1755.

My dear friend,

IHAVE read Mr.
B.’s letter, and think it exceedingly pretty; the stile is easy and flowing, the language soft and affecting, the sentiments he expresses, in regard to his friend and yourself, very beautiful. But what is all this to the purpose? Or how can this convince you, that you ought to give up those means of grace which you have found so extremely beneficial to your soul, in order to make a proper wife for Mr.
C.? ’Tis true, there are several assertions in Mr.
B.’s letter, designed to shew the reasonableness of your making the promise; but asserting and proving are two things. Whatever has the appearance of argument in this letter may, I imagine, be reduced to these heads: 1st.
That it is absolutely wrong for any member of the church of England to attend the meetings of separatists. 2dly.
That in the church of England, a soul may find every thing necessary for its attaining the highest degrees of faith and holiness. 3dly. That Mr.
W. is a separatist: and 4thly.
That your having any acquaintance with him, will hurt Mr.
C. both in his temporal interest, and in his character as a minister. — The opinion I had conceived of Mr.
B. was very high, I imagined him actuated by that spirit of universal love, which is the first and ruling principle of every soul that is born of God; and I make no doubt but this is his real character: however (in this affair) he may seem to incline to a partial selfish orthodoxy. *Could the church of England be proved to be the only church of Christ, there might be some reason for the cry of schism, which we hear so much of: but what is she, more than one of the most unexceptionable of those many divisions into which the universal church is broken? And therefore a separation from her, though causeless, or from mistaken motives, cannot properly be called making a schism in the church of Christ. For my part (but I speak it with submission to Mr.
B.’s judgment) I apprehend, that the only real and dangerous schism is the want of that spirit of love, which makes us rejoice in whatever is good and excellent in people of all denominations, and ready to believe good even of those who most differ from us in ceremonies and opinion. And why a person of this spirit (suppose one in communion with the church of England) may not be allowed sometimes to hear a minister among the Presbyterians, or any other sect, if they find this minister’s preaching blest to their souls, I cannot imagine.
What St. Paul says in regard to giving offence to weak brethren, is often quoted to prove what it has nothing to do with; for St.
Paul surely does not mean, that he neglected those things which were profitable to his soul, for fear of giving offence to the weak; but that he refrained from outward things (such as making difference in meats, &c.)
which he, as strong in faith, knew to be wholly indifferent, lest his example should tempt those who were weak to do things by which their consciences might be wounded. — As to Mr.
B.’s second argument, in one sense of it, I heartily agree with him: the homilies, the articles, and liturgy of the church of England, doubtless contain all the doctrines necessary to faith and holiness. But, alas, how little are these doctrines regarded either in preaching or practice, by the generality of her ministers! Let any one who has the least degree of seriousness, look round the churches of London. Will he not see the people for the most part repeating an excellent set of prayers, just as a parrot repeats a song; and the minister giving forth doctrines from the pulpit, as directly contrary to these prayers as darkness is to light? This is so plain a matter of fact, that it cannot be contradicted; and it is as notorious, that whenever any minister in the church of England begins to preach her real doctrines, and live up to her precepts, he is immediately called a Methodist. This name is given to him as a reproach.
But as it comes upon him for speaking the truth, it is in fact a glory. Ever since Christ was upon the earth, real Christians have had a nick-name: but surely no one who is sincerely bent to follow him can regard this: I doubt not but Mr.
B. himself is called a Methodist. But I now come to Mr.
B.’s third argument, that most dreadful charge laid against Mr.
W. that he is a separatist. This charge has been repeated over and over again, but has never yet been clearly proved. If four walls, with a steeple and bells, was the church of England, Mr.
W. might with some shadow of reason be said to have separated from it, because he seldom preaches in these places: but this is no fault of his, for he will gladly preach in any of them, when their respective ministers will let him. And he was never denied preaching in what is called a church, till he strongly insisted on that doctrine for which the martyrs of the reformation laid down their lives, and which is the very fundamental doctrine of the church of England, justification by faith. Any one who would read Mr.
W.’s Appeals with a sincere and impartial spirit, would I believe be fully convinced, that this charge against him could not stand. — As to the hurt your being acquainted with Mr. W. might do to Mr.
C. in his temporal interest, it depends entirely upon himself. If he preaches to his people smooth things, and prophesies deceits; if he joins with them in their innocent amusements, which lull souls asleep, and keeps them in an utter
ignorance of their fall and their redemption, till they awake in a miserable eternity: go you where you will, not a dog will move its tongue against him, nor will the generosity of his parishioners be in the least abated towards him; and all they say of him will only be, poor man! what pity that such a good-natured good sort of a man should have such a sad wife. But do I think Mr.
C. will act in this manner? No, certainly I do not. I verily believe, from what you yourself have said of him, that he intends to prove himself a true minister of Christ, that he will boldly and earnestly call sinners to repentance, and that his life and conversation will be wholly agreeable to his preaching. And if this is the case, though you were never to see Mr. W. again, Mr.
C. would be called a Methodist, the greatest part of his parishioners would cry out against him, and in all probability their generosity towards him would greatly decrease. So that consider the affair in what light you will, your being acquainted with Mr. W. cannot materially hurt Mr.
C. And as to the objection of this acquaintance casting a reproach on your husband’s ministry, ’tis quite needless; for it is not to be supposed, if Mr.
C. be the man you can approve of for a husband, that you will leave his church when he himself preaches, to go after any other minister whatever. And whatever you may do at this time at proper opportunities, will I doubt not be so guided by Christian prudence, that he, as a good
and pious man, cannot reasonably object to it. But at present you and Mr.
C. know very little of each other, and he certainly had no right to propose such terms as these to you, till he had given you frequent opportunities of judging, whether his heart and sentiments were such as you could entirely approve of. For my part, by the little I can judge in this affair, I believe him to be a good and a sincere man, and I heartily wish him happy, and that with you, if it can be brought about without your doing any thing to wound your conscience. In the mean time, whether this affair is ever concluded upon or not, frequent conversing together in the spirit of Christianity, may be a blessing to both. And how is it possible for you to give a direct answer to a man, till you are in some measure acquainted with him, and can judge of his temper and dispositions? I was quite delighted with the softness and affection for you with which your pappa mentioned this affair to me last night. If you say any thing of my writing to you, give my respects to him and your mamma, with love to Miss B. and believe me

Your faithful,

****

To Mr. ****.

My dear ****,

JOIN with me in praising the free grace and mercy of God, which has so wonderfully displayed it self in your soul! I don’t know whether your letter most astonished or delighted me; but this I am sure of, that I don’t know how enough to express my thankfulness to God in your behalf. The means so weak too! Nothing but a book put into your hands, which thousands might have read without regarding it. No examples of vital religion, no one to urge or encourage you to seek redemption! But the Almighty can indeed work by the weakest means, and the poorest instruments; nothing is too hard for the Lord: and Oh may he perfect the work he has begun! — Oh gracious and ever-blessed Redeemer, continue thy mercy to this brother of my soul; convince him more and more of the dreadful state he is in by nature, and the absolute necessity of justification by faith alone! Oh justify him freely; grant him redemption through thy blood, the forgiveness of sins: Fill him with all peace and joy in believing, and give him to go on in thy strength, till he arrives at that fulness of faith here, and in the end to thy eternal glory hereafter, which thou hast purchased for those who love thee! Amen, Amen.

I rejoice in your desiring to receive the sacrament. The only preparation required of us is repentance, faith, and love — love to God and all mankind. I have wrote out a little catalogue of books which I make my constant study, and which I hope will be yours; always remembring, that the Bible is to be esteemed by us infinitely beyond any human compositions. Other books I shall occasionally recommend to you, as they benefit my own mind, or are proper for the state of yours. — As to forms of prayer in private, you have no occasion for them. Pray from your own heart. There is no need of elegance of expression, to make a prayer acceptable to God. The desire of the heart is its prayer; and that once sincerely turned to God, will certainly receive an answer of peace. When you first awake, strive to fix your mind immediately on God: let the first book you open be the New Testament. There read, not several chapters, but just so much as you find will be food sufficient for present meditation. If the first verse you read particularly affects you, don’t read further, but close the book, and let that verse have its full effect on your mind. When you fall on your knees before the Almighty, recollect the dangers and temptations you are most likely to fall into that day, and particularly pray to be kept by the grace of God in each of them. Earnestly pray for power over the sin which most easily besets you. But above all things, strive in your morning and evening prayers to gain the most lively sense of your own nothingness, nay to feel that you are even worse than nothing, that you are by your fallen nature sold under sin, and deserving nothing at the hand of God but eternal punishment. And when your mind is deeply impressed with this consideration, then look to the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world. There see the power by which your fallen nature may be restored: there see the blood by which you are cleansed from all sin: there see the full redemption purchased for you, and strain every faculty of your soul eagerly to lay hold on this redemption: and be assured that the eternal Spirit of God will assist you in these your prayers. The Spirit itself, says St. Paul, maketh intercession for us. — In the course of the ensuing day, and in all occurrences, strive to keep your heart in a state of prayer, always ready to be lifted up to God; and this, even in the hurry of business, may be done, and no one be sensible of it except yourself. And be sure, my dear, never to omit making use of any opportunity of doing good which falls in your way, either to the bodies or souls of your fellow creatures. — At night follow the same rule as in the morning; only examining, before you beg the protection of God for the night, every action of the past day: what good you have done, what left undone, what faults you have been guilty of, what mercies you have received, and accordingly address yourself to the father of mercy.

I have time to say no more at present. Continue to write to me, and fail not to pray for

Your ever-affectionate

****

December 22, 1753.

January 7, 1754.

IRETURN my dearest **** thanks for his last letter; the satisfaction which it and the conversation we had together on Saturday gave me, is inexpressible. Oh may you, by the assisting grace of God, continue in the happy way you are now in, and still press forward to higher degrees of faith and love. But, my dear, you must not think too highly of me; I am one of the most unworthy objects of the free mercy of God. I stand more, perhaps, in need of your prayers than you of mine; you must too pray for me, and we must both strive to strengthen each other. I should be glad to know whether you, last night, notwithstanding the disagreeable manner of the preacher, received any comfort and satisfaction from what he said: I own I did; his words (under all these disadvantages) raised and strengthened me in a remarkable manner. I wish it had been the same with you all; but your expectations were so highly raised by the name of ****, that an angel would hardly have satisfied them: and thus shall we be always disappointed, if we look more at man than God. The most famous preacher, let his eloquence, his manner, his doctrine, be ever so near perfection, can never make the soul taste the words of salvation, unless the Spirit of God accompanies and inforces his preaching. And the same blessed Spirit can make the words of the meanest, the most despicable preacher of the gospel, effectual to awaken, to convince, and to comfort. But in order to our reaping these benefits, we must hear with singleness of intention; not seeking to have our outward ears and eyes delighted, but desiring the sincere milk of the word, to nourish and strengthen our souls. Would it not be the highest madness to throw away the water of life, because it was brought to us in an earthen vessel? Solomon says, “To the hungry soul every bitter thing is sweet.” So to the soul which really hungers and thirsts after Christ, the sound of the gospel of peace, (let the voice which proclaims it be harsh or soft) will be sweet indeed. Oh may you and I, my dear ****, always find it so to us! May that blessed Redeemer in whom we have peace, be dearer to us than light, than life, than any thing we can form to our imagination either here or hereafter! In dangers, in difficulties, in temptations, may we still look to him as our defence, our deliverer, our strength. He is all in all throughout the oracles of God, both in the Old and New Testament: may he be all in all to our souls; may we walk by his light, conquer by his strength, and in the end be joyful partakers of that everlasting felicity which he has prepared for those that love him. This is the constant wish and prayer of,

Your affectionate

****

Saturday the 17th.

IRECEIVED my dearest ****’s long letter, and have more and more reason to be thankful to God on your account. Oh how my soul exults in your happiness, in your increase in faith, and love to Christ! — Your conversation with the captain delights me; no doubt but he rejoiced over you — there you see the true christian spirit. The advice he gave you is excellent: Oh may we be both enabled to follow it! Those who forsake all for Christ, will certainly find all in Christ. — As to ****, I would advise you to try first, to raise in him a desire to receive the sacrament, before you persuade him to receive it; and be earnest at the throne of grace on his behalf. All probable means are to be made use of, but it is the Spirit of God alone can convince of sin. — I have been lately a good deal affected with the death of a lady in this neighbourhood, who led what is called an innocent life. Mr. **** attended her, and all his endeavours to convince her were in vain: her answers were, “Though she had not made such a shew of religion as some others, yet she had done her duty.” This is the most fatal delusion of all; this blindness is the most dreadful state in which a soul can launch into eternity! Can you and I be ever enough thankful to that God who has opened our eyes, to see the things which make for our peace? Was our whole life to be one continued act of praise, it would be nothing in comparison to the blessings we have received; nay, even the eternity, which we shall spend in continual praise, is not enough fully to express all we owe to our redeeming God — Redemption, how much is comprehended in this word! And how sweet does it sound to a soul sensible of its wants! May that pathetic prayer my dear **** has made for me be heard; then shall I experience that fulness of redemption for which I long! Then shall I indeed be intirely dead to the world and sin, and live only to Christ. All this unspeakable happiness, I as sincerely wish to the brother of my soul as to myself;

And am his truly affectionate,

****

Sunday Afternoon, March 10, 1754.

My dear ****,

LAST night after you were gone, I read your letter, and thought of what you had told me with the greatest satisfaction. What reason have you to be thankful, that God should at so early a time of your life convince you of sin, and give you to know, that you have redemption through Christ! How might you have plunged into all the follies and vices of youth, and laid up a large stock for future and bitter repentance, had not the free and unbounded grace of God displayed its power in your soul! Oh continue earnestly to seek still more and more of the fulness of Christ. Think not because you have had a sense of the pardoning love of God, that you are to rest here: no, still seek for fresh evidences of his love to your soul; press forward with unwearied diligence towards the mark of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus; seek and strive to gain the abiding witness of the Spirit; strive for that perfect renewal of heart by which you may say, “’Tis no more I that live, but Christ liveth in me.” — You tell me you was assaulted, some days after you had this dear sense of the mercies of God in Christ Jesus, with doubts and fears. Whenever you are attacked in this manner again, argue thus with yourself: — “This peace and joy which I felt, this sense of forgiveness seemed to me to be the work of God upon my soul: but was it really so? Might not a warm imagination deceive me, or might not the great enemy of souls transform himself into an angel of light, in order to lull me into a fatal security? But have I not an infallible rule to judge by, whether this work was of God? What were the fruits it produced? Did I upon this grow more careless and remiss? Was my mind puffed up with spiritual pride? Did I allow myself liberties which before I was afraid to take? — Or did I, on the contrary, watch still more diligently against the most distant approaches of sin? Did I find increasing power over sins of the heart, as well as outward sin? Did I find in me a still deeper sense of my own nothingness and the all-sufficiency of my Redeemer, and a large increase of the love of God and all mankind? If these were the happy fruits of this evidence, I have no cause to doubt this work was certainly of God.”

In this manner, my dear, if you will examine yourself, begging the assistance of the blessed Spirit, to enable you to search every winding and turning of your heart, you can never be deceived,
and will always be able by the shield of faith to repel all the fiery darts of the devil. I thank you for your affectionate prayer for me (may God return all those blessings double on your own head) and am,

Your ever-affectionate friend,

****

IDID not expect to see my dear **** on Saturday, for the weather was so extremely bad, that I thought you would make the best of your way to ****. I have read your letter with great pleasure, and hope you will continue thus diligently to examine the state of your own mind: and that on every examination you will find an increase of that “treasure which never faileth.” — I rejoice that you have been happy enough to suffer reproach for the sake of Christ, and more especially for the grace given you to suffer joyfully. You may depend upon it that there is the same real distinction between Christians and the world now, that there was when our blessed Master said, “Because ye are not of the world, therefore the world hateth you.” And how ought our hearts to exult with praise and thanksgiving, when we can say we are not of the world! What unspeakable happiness will it be for us to be found (when our Redeemer comes to judgment) among those who were not ashamed of him in this “adulterous and perverse generation!” Is any thing too much to suffer, when animated by the hopes of having these glorious words addressed to us, “Come ye blessed!”

I am now with my poor aunt ****, who is in great affliction for the loss of poor Mrs. C. See my dear ****, *how little all that is esteemed in this world avails, when God is pleased to lay his hand upon us! Here was youth, beauty, riches, friends; but how, as in a moment, was the possessor of all these cut off! And by a dreadful disease, brought to be the companion of loathsome worms! Alas, how is that sweet smile, which once sat upon her countenance, now changed to ghastliness! How are her fine features and delicate complexion now become even horrible to behold! Oh that some proud beauty would here stop, and consider what she herself must one day assuredly be! And Oh that this thought might strike me still with deeper seriousness, that she who was my friend and confidant, even from my earliest youth; she whom I loved with more than a sister’s tenderness; is now — alas, where is now her precious soul? Dearest Redeemer, thy grace is all-sufficient, and thy mercies infinite! Is it not now rejoicing with thee? Were not all those helps afforded her by thy boundless love, which, even to the last, her ill-judging friends denied her? O had I but seen her rejoicing in the love of God, and filled with the prospects of a blessed eternity, how would my soul have joyed in her departure! How would my heart have dilated itself with the glorious thought, that my friend was delivered from the gilded snares that surrounded her, and gone to sure and unbounded happiness! And even now I cannot doubt the mercies of my God; surely we shall meet again, and join in eternal praises to the great author of our salvation!

I am, with all affection, your faithful friend,

****

My dearest ****,

IAM obliged to you for your letter, though the first side of it frighted me extreamly. I have been so accustomed to see you strong in faith, and rejoicing in God, that the very mention of weak faith alarmed me. But thanks be to God, who has not suffered you to be tempted above what you were able to bear, but has with the temptation also made a way for you to escape: and I hope this trial will be a means of making you still more watchful. You have need to watch and pray always, and more especially at those times, when your enemies seem to be at peace with you. When we are blessed with the light of God’s countenance, and have power over the sin which most easily besets us, we are very apt to be off our guard; and by being secure, we lay ourselves open to danger from that grand tempter, who is always watching over us for evil. And if we take not care to keep the loving eye of our mind constantly fixed on that God who is always watching over us for good, we must fall. Here all our strength lies: but God will not give us this strength, unless we carefully and continually seek it: therefore, now the free grace of God has again raised you up, be doubly careful in every thought, word, and action, and be assured that your merciful Redeemer will be ever ready to hear you when you call upon him. That his love may daily abound in your heart more and more, is the sincere prayer of,

Your affectionate,

****

July 12, 1754.

Monday, August 5, 1754.

My dear ****,

YOU are indeed a great stranger; sure you might contrive to call, though it were but for half an hour. — I am glad you heard Mr.
****; for to hear him and to profit, to a sincere soul is
the same thing. I thank God too, that you are in so happy a state of mind, and your soul so charmingly alive to God; that you seem so much in love with holiness, and so eagerly pressing after it in all its branches: depend upon it, for every degree of holiness you gain here, you will also gain a new degree of happiness both here and hereafter. The nearer the soul is to the image of Christ, the more it will love him, and the more it will be loved by him, and by the Father through him: and this love is the highest felicity both of saints and angels. Imperfect (in degree) as it is here below, the soul that tastes it, would not change it for all that earth or heaven could give. And what then must it be above in the kingdom of eternal glory! Where the soul, delivered from this earthly clog, will have no hindrances or obstructions to the pure love of God, but will be wholly swallowed up in it.

Your **** gave me an account of your yesterday’s conversation: I congratulate you that you can so boldly and judiciously too, speak for the truth. I pray God to increase you in every good word and work, and am,

Your ever-affectionate Friend,

****

My dear ****,

IRETURN you many thanks for your letter. Just before I received it I was thinking of you, and to tell you the truth, with some fear, (occasioned by your long absence) either that you were grown cold to me, or, what was infinitely worse, were grown cold to the ways of God. But your letter dispelled all my fears, and I rejoice and give thanks to our heavenly Father for his great and manifold mercies to your soul! — I wish I could have seen you often in your last illness, but that you know was impossible: however, the small time I was with you gave me the utmost satisfaction, and I cannot be enough sensible of the goodness of my God, that I (weak and unworthy as I am) should be made an instrument of such increase of comfort to you. Had you then died, you would doubtless now be singing praises to God and the Lamb; but as you are suffered to continue longer upon earth, it is to this end, that you should approve yourself a faithful servant to God, in the midst of this crooked and perverse generation, that you should shine as a light in the world, and by spending yourself in the service of God here, increase your capacity of happiness hereafter. God is merciful to you in a peculiar manner. To be kept as you are, when so much engaged in business, and with so few opportunities of attending the means of grace, calls for the utmost gratitude; therefore let no occasion pass of shewing your love to that Redeemer, who has thus saved you from sin and the love of the world. All you can do, is by far too small a return for such unbounded goodness. Your present state of mind is a glorious and happy one indeed; but suffer not yourself to be off your watch for one moment, for Satan is always watching to hurt a soul that is thus happily escaped from his snare. But your certain help lies in Christ; keep therefore the eye of the mind fixed upon him, and you will still go on conquering, and to conquer.

I am, your ever-affectionate friend,

****

Sunday, December 8, 1754.

My dear ****,

IAM delighted with the rules you have laid down for your conduct: you must constantly look up to God for grace and strength faithfully to practise them. I rejoice in your love to your Redeemer; and be assured, the longer you live, the more you will be convinced, that this is your only sure refuge and lasting happiness. *In regard to your going so often to ****, take the following advice; shun, as you would poison, every thing that you find a means of making you less alive to God. Life is short. We have a great work to do, and God only knows how few of those hours, which are ever on the wing, may be given us to do it in. Therefore lose not a moment! Remember a Christian cannot stand still; he must go either forwards or backwards; and if you have not made some advances toward heaven since the clock struck last, you have gone back towards the contrary road. Keep this constantly in your mind, particularly in your visits. — May the peace and love of God be ever with you, and fail not to remember at the throne ♦of grace,

Your ever-affectionate friend,

****

November 27, 1755.

To Miss ****.

Sunday Morning.

My dear Friend,

IHAVE just time enough to wish that your soul may this day prosper, and that God may be found by you in all his ordinances. Oh that his love may be more and more shed abroad in your heart! And this it certainly will be, if you walk closely with him, and suffer not your imagination to lead you from your only true happiness. Oh strive continually after a constant recollection, and communion with God. — I know the unprofitable manner in which you will be employed this afternoon; but this need not hinder your heart from being with your Saviour; he will support and comfort you. — Take care that you run not into making observations, either on the persons, manners, or dress of your visitors: four young ladies in a house together, are in the utmost danger from this sin: and depend upon it, it is as contrary to Christian love as lying or stealing. Adieu.

****

My dear friend,

IHAVE been thinking, since I saw you, of all the snares to which you are going to be exposed, and I sincerely pray that God may protect you in every danger, and hold up your goings in his paths. But in order to gain this gracious protection, you must take the greatest care that you do nothing to grieve his blessed Spirit, and cause him to depart from you. And this any sinful compliance will certainly do: therefore when you are desired to do any thing unbecoming a christian, fear not (young as you are) to bear your testimony for God against an evil world. But do it in the spirit of meekness; and if by this means you draw upon yourself the appellations of whimsical, obstinate, and ridiculous, look upon the reproach as matter of rejoicing, and as adding a greater lustre to the crown you will hereafter receive. There is one temptation, which at your age is peculiarly dangerous, and that is a desire of being thought handsome. You must be ever on your watch against this; for it will raise a thousand tempers in your soul, as contrary to the mind which was in Christ as darkness is to light. There is nothing which is a greater counter-poise to this desire, than bringing the mind to be contented, nay even to rejoice that another should outshine us. Let Miss F be the means by which you acquire a conquest over this first born of female pride: set yourself every day to take delight in her beauty; to wish for its embellishment, and to be most pleased when she appears to the greatest advantage. — If when you read this you colour, and cry, “Dear! what can she mean? this is vastly odd!” — depend upon it there is something in your heart which makes the advice I have given highly necessary; and fail not, as you prize your peace of mind and increase of grace, to put it in practice. We should enjoy much more of the light of God’s countenance, and of that peace which passeth all understanding, if we would attend to, and watch against, those occasions of falling, which from their commonness we are apt to call little. — A soul is often cast into heaviness for hours, by an unguarded word. — You will not, my love, be angry with me that I deal thus freely with you: I watch over your soul in tender love; and though sensible of my own unworthiness, either to advise or persuade; though sensible of my own great and manifold sins and imperfections, I cannot desist from guarding you against all that may hinder your being made perfect in the love of God. I am,

Your ever-affectionate,

****

November 30, 1754.

ITHANK you, my love, for writing to me, and rejoice that you are happy: God never fails to hear those that call upon him, and is gracious above all that we can either ask or think. As to my illness, it is extremely troublesome, but I believe not dangerous: and I must continue to bear it for a good while longer, without attempting to remove it, because my apothecary himself knows not what to make of it: *however, I am just as I ought to be; I delight to do and to suffer the will of God, and his mercies are sweet to my soul. I am in that happy state of resignation, that I have not a wish, but for an increase of grace and holiness. Sunday my soul longed after the sacrament, and the tears came in my eyes, because I could not go to church. But are the flowing streams of redeeming love confined to place or time? I found indeed they were not; for my soul was at home sweetly replenished with every blessing I could have hoped for at the altar. How much are those to be pitied who know not the love of God! How much are those to be pitied who set their hearts on any thing in this infant-state of existence! How poor, how low, how trifling is every thing, that does not look towards eternity! I have such an experimental sense of the nothingness of all worldly things, that they seem no more to me than dancing puppets; and I am sometimes ready to affront my brother and Mr. ****, by smiling at the important air with which they talk of their business, as they call it. — I think there is very little probability that I shall be fit to come to the wedding. Pray God keep your sister’s heart in this time of danger and distraction, and bless you both with the blessings of his children.

****

January 7, 1755.

To the Rev. Mr. ****.

Reverend Sir,

YOUR character for candour and piety takes from me all fear that you should be offended at the address of a person unknown, even though this address is designed to point out something amiss in you; which it is absolutely necessary (for the good of your own soul, and for the eternal welfare of those who hear you) that you should amend.――You believe! — You feel the power, and live the life of faith! — Oh why will you not strive that others may be partakers of like happiness with you? — I know your general manner of preaching: I myself have heard you; and while my ear has been delighted with your affecting delivery, your elegant language, and well-turned periods, my heart has bled to think that such talents should be so miserably perverted: bled for you, and for those poor souls, whom this way of preaching lulls into a fatal security. Pardon my freedom of speech; pardon my boldness towards you; but you yourself will acknowledge, that where the foundation is unsound, the building must fall; and no true foundation can be laid except Jesus Christ. Your own experience must tell you, that a divine power can alone change the heart; that all outward regularity of behaviour, all rounds and forms of devotion, and all moral duties, without this change are, utterly unavailing, and only like beautifying the outside of a sepulchre, which within is full of dead mens bones and of all uncleanness. You are sensible too, that faith in a dying Redeemer is the only means given us by which this change of heart can be effected. To what purpose then is it to tell poor, lost, undone man, of the dignity of his rational nature, and the beauty of virtue? — Dear sir, for the sake of that God whom you love and adore, away with these shadows, and substitute in their place realities. How would it delight the heart of several of your friends (who greatly love and esteem you, and who wish well to the gospel of Christ) to see you, with all the force of eloquence, labouring to convince your hearers of the sin of their nature, their condemnation in the sight of God, and their utter incapacity to help themselves; and then proclaiming to them, “Behold the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world!”

I am sensible of the difficulties you will have to encounter, in thus changing your manner of preaching: but though the battle be hard to fight, great will be the glory of the victory. ’Tis true, your enemies are strong and powerful; the devil, the world, all the wicked, and all the self righteous will be joined together against you: but look up with an eye of faith, and see how many more are for you. Think of the holy angels rejoicing over every sinner converted by your means; think that the Captain of your salvation, your God and Redeemer, will be ever near to help, to strengthen and comfort you! And consider what unutterable joy your soul will feel, when at that period of time which is the most delightful to the true Christian, you can with firm confidence cry out with St. Paul, “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith; henceforth is laid up for me a crown of righteousness.”

I am, (though your unknown and unworthy)
Your truly affectionate friend.

To Mr. G****.

IAM much obliged to you for your letter to me; and if it will increase your joy to know that I love my Saviour more than health, or light, or life, be assured that I do; and that I should think myself the most ungrateful and vile of all creatures if I did not. It is my constant and earnest desire every day, nay every hour, to increase in the knowledge and love of God, and to be saved not only from the guilt, but also from the power of sin. I know that the grace of God through Christ is sufficient for me; I know that the blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin; and I know (blessed be God for giving me that knowledge) that I have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of my sins. Think now, what a wretch I should be, if I did not love this Redeemer, and if I did not wish above all things to be conformed to his image? — And in consequence of my thus loving God because he first loved me, I love every creature which God has made, and every soul of man, without any regard had to sects, names, or parties. The Moravian church, though I am certain at this time it is over-run with dreadful errors, I love, pity, and pray for. Oh may the God of love and unbounded mercy, convince and restore it! — I thank you for the glorious advice you give me, of “living very near the cross:” there is life indeed! Life freely given, to every soul that seeks it. And that you and I may ever partake of this life, is the hearty wish of, your

****

To the Rev. Mr. ****.

November 30, 1755.

Dear Sir,

IAM much obliged to you for your apostolical letter, and for the truly christian joy you express for my baby’s happiness. That I have felt all that the greatest sensibility of temper is capable of feeling on such an occasion, is certain: but here has been my great comfort, that, in every thing which concerned the child, I have had neither will nor wish of my own. He was peculiarly dedicated to God, even before he was born: and since, he has been daily, nay almost hourly offered up; and that not in word only, but in truth: and as it has pleased God to accept him as a sacrifice, rather than as a servant, I have nothing to say, but “thy will be done!” If I could have seen you, or any of my Christian friends at this time, when all the finest springs of human nature were on the rack, it would have been a great satisfaction; but it pleased God to with-hold all creature comfort from me; and though his own arm sustained me, it was in a manner not sensibly perceived by my soul: *so that I had the great blessing of bearing something of the cross. And this I look upon to be a particular blessing to me, because I have been so wholly led by love, that before this, I knew but very little of what it was to suffer the will of God. In short, every dispensation of my heavenly Father towards me, is nothing but mercy and unbounded goodness. I see and I adore. — The Lord Jesus bless and preserve you in body, soul, and spirit. Fail not to pray for,

Your obliged and affectionate,

****

Monday, December 22, 1755.

Dear Sir,

ISEE with delight, that you are set up as a mark, for every one of the devil’s tools to shoot at: and he certainly wounds the deepest by those, who, while they are working for him, imagine they are doing God service, and acting with Christian prudence. How often is that wisdom which comes from beneath, taken for that which comes from above! And fear of man, secret desire of preferment, and being ashamed of the cross of Christ, dignified with the title of true discretion, and caution not to give offence! — ’Tis hard, indeed, to be wounded in the house of your friends; nothing, perhaps, is more painful to nature; but if they have called the master of the house Beelzebub, how much more those of his houshold! — Those servants of Christ who are designed by him for eminent usefulness, must of necessity have the largest share of tribulation; for the highest place of honour under our king, is that of the sharpest sufferings. I should not wonder if the tongues and pens of all your brethren (except two or three) were employed against you; and I am so far from being sorry (on your account) for Mr.
L.’s preaching against you, that
I look upon it as a precious and blessed mark, and a seal to the truth of your ministry. — Happy parting, indeed, with the world! And happy parting with every comfort in it, if nearer union with God is the consequence! Oh cease not to pray for me, that all things may thus work together for my good! — This poor dream of life will soon be at an end; and then, if those who have only given a cup of cold water for the sake of Christ, shall not lose their reward, what an exceeding and eternal weight of glory attends those happy souls who constantly labour, and patiently suffer for him!

I am, your obliged and faithful Friend and Servant,

****

The End of the Thirteenth Volume.