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THE 

REV.  JOHN'kEEWTON, 


LATS 

RECTOR  OF  THE  UNITED  PARISHES 

OF 

»T.  MARY  WOQLNOTH  AND  ST.  MARY  WOOLCHURCH  HAW, 

ILottiyoti. 


FROM   THK    LAST   LONDON   EDITION, 
PUBLISHED  BT  DIRECTION  OF  HIS  EXECUTORS. 


IN  FOUR  VOLUMES. 
VOL.  IV. 


NEW-HAVEN: 
PRINTED  AND  PUBLISHED  BY  NATHAN  WHITING. 

1824. 


?5X  5-631 

yr.i 


CONTENTS 

OF  VOLUME  IV. 


Letters  to  a  Wife :  written  during  three  Toyages  to  Africa,  from  1750 

to  1754 ^ 

Letters  to  a  Wife :  written  in  England,  from  1755  to  1785              .       •  127 
Appendix       . ^^ 

LETTERS  mTENDED  AS  A  SEQUEL  TO  CARDIPHONU. 

Eighteen  Letters  to  several  Ladies t39 

Twenty-one  Letters  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W 266 

Eleven  Letters  to  J S ,Esq 901 

Eight  Letters  to 920 

Eighteen  Letters  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  3  996 

Four  Letters  to  Miss  W 95S 

Six  Letters  to  the  Rer.  Mr.  S  -  , 966 

Twenty-one  Letters  to  Miss . 981 

'  ^e  Letters  to  Mr.  and  Miss  M B 415 

ALetterto 425 

Three  Letters  to  Miss  O 427 

Three  Letters  to  Mrs.  G 499 

MISCELLANEOUS  PAPERS  EXTRACTED  FROM  PERIODICAL 
PUBLICATIONS. 

A  Letter  to  a  Friend  in  Trouble     • 441 

Thoughts  on  the  GoTemment  of  the  Tongue 445 

On  Pliny's  Letter  to  Trajan 447 

Letter  to  a  young  Minister      ..•...•,.  454 

On  a  Decline  in  the  Spiritual  Life  . 453 

On  Dreaming        .       .       •       •       « 435 

On  readhag  the  Bible 435 

Plain  Tests  of  true  Doctrine 437 

To  a  young  Lady  on  her  Birth-day 473 

Thoughts  on  the  Doctrine  of  the  Trinity 479 

Letter  to  a  young  Woman .482 

Memoirs  of  the  Bey.  ILRicoaltouo 484 

On  Female  Utem         .       • 499 


4  CONTENTS. 

Pag«. 

On  Reiigioos  Feasting 49t 

Thoughts  on  Faith,  and  the  Assurance  of  Faith 406 

On  Govetousness 501 

On  the  Consforls  and  Snares  of  Social  Affections    ....       .505 

Sermon  on  the  constraining  Influence  of  the  Lore  of  Christ    «        .       .  51T 

Thoughts  upon  the  African 'Slare  Trade 9SS 

Address  to  the  Inhabitants.ofOlnej        . 590 

Token  of  Respect  to  the  Inhabitants  of  St  Mary  Woolnoth     .       .       .569 

Letter  on  Political  Debate ,       ,  570 

Index 585 


WBITTKN   DUBIRG 

THREE  VOYAGES  TO  AFRICA, 

FROM  17&0  TO  1754. 


rO  Ubonim 


Dulce  lenimen  ! 

BOB. 


The3rtlntgodow]ilotlieMaiBibipi.tbatdobutine«B  infrttt  wtlsni  th«M  fcethci 
iratkt  of  tbeliordy  and  his  wooden  in  tne  deep.— Fsalm  cvii.  23.  S4. 


PREFACE. 


WHjfeKy  after  repeated  checks  of  conscience,  I  obstinately  broke  through 
all  restraints  of  religion,  it  pleased  God  for  a  time  to  give  me  up  to  my 
own  wilfulness  and  folly ;.  perhaps  as  much  so,  as  ever  poor  creature 
was  given  up  to  himself,  who  did  not  finally  perish.  The  way  of  trans* 
gressors  is  always  hard.  It  proved  so  to  me.  The  miseries  into  which 
I  plunged  myself,  could  only  be  exceeded  by  the  dreadful  wickedness  of 
my  heart  and  life.  At  length  I  was  driven  to  the  desperate  determination 
of  living  upon  the  coast  of  Africa.  My  principal  residence  was  at  the 
Plantanes,  an  island  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  of  Sherbro,  on  the  wind- 
ward  coast,  about  twenty  leagues  S.  £.  from  Sierra  Leone.  Some  ac* 
count  of  this  mournful  part  of  my  early  life  has  been  long  in  print 

The  coast  of  Guinea  is  a  country  from  whose  bourn  few  travel- 
lers, who  have  once  ventured  to  settle. there,  ever  return.  But  God, 
against  whom  I  had  sinned  with  a  high  hand,  was  pleased  to  appoint 
me  to  be  3  singular  instance  of  his  mercy.  He  not  only  spared  me,  bat 
watched  over  me,  by  his  merciful  providence,  when  I  seemed  to  be  bent 
Qpon  my  own  destruction ;  and  provided  for  my  deliverance  from  my 
wretched  thraldom.  To  him  who  has  ait  hearts  in  bis  hands  I  ascribe  it, 
that  a  friend  of  my  father's,  the  late  Mr.  Joseph  Manesty,  a  merchant  of 
Liverpool,  to  whom  1  was  then  an  otter  stranger,  directed  the  captal^f 
one  of  his  ships  to  inquire  for  me,  and,  if  be  could,  to  bring  me  home. 
This  proposal  for  my  deliverance,  no  less  unexpected  than  undeserved  by 
me,  reached  me  at  a  time  when  some  circumstances  of  my  captivity  were, 
according  to  my  wretched  views  and  taste,  a  little  amended,  and  I  at  first 
hesitated  to  accept  it.  And,  I  believe,  had  it  not  been  for  one  considera- 
tion, which  will  be  often  mentioned  in  the  course  of  these  letters,  I  should 
have  lived  and  died  in  my  bondage.  When  I  returned  to  Liverpool,  I 
ibund,  in  Mr.  Manesty,  a  second  father  }  he  treated  me  with  great  kind- 
ness, and  took  upon  himself  th%  care  of  providing  fur  me. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  year  1749,  Mr.  Manesty  promised  me  the 
command  of  a  ship  to  Africa,  in  the  ensuing  season.  On  this  promise 
(for  1  had  no  other  dependence)  I  ventured  to  marry  on  the  first  of  Feb- 
ruary following,  where  my  heart  had  been  long  engaged.  After  I  had 
gained  my  point,  1  often  trembled  for  my  precipitation.    For  though  I 


8  FREFACfi« 

am  sare  I  shoald  have  preferred  the  person  I  married  to  any  other  wo- 
man in  the  world,  though  possessed  of  the  mines  of  Potosi ;  (she  had  no 
fortune;)  and  if  any  thing  had  happened  to  involve  her  in  difficukies  up- 
on my  account,  I  think  my  strong  affection  for  her  would  have  made  me 
truly  miserable. 

I  have  often  thought  since,  that  we  were  then  like  two  unexperienced 
people  on  the  edge  of  a  wide  wilderness,  without  a  guide,  ignorant  of  the 
way  they  should  take,  entirely  unapprised  of  the  diificuUies  they  might 
have  to  encounter*  But  the  Lord  God,  whom  at  that  time  we  knew  not, 
had  mercifully  purposed  to  be  our  guide  and  our  guard. 

The  imminent  danger  and  extreme  distress  to  which  we  were  reduced 
by  a  storm,  in  my  passage  from  Africa  to  Liverpool,  had,  by  the  mercy 
of  Ood,  made  such  an  impression  upon  my  mind,  that  I  was  no  longer  an 
infidel  or  a  libertine.  I  had  some  serious  thoughts,  was  considerably  re* 
formed,  but  too  well  satisfied  with  my  reformation.  If  I  had  any  spirit- 
ual light,  it  was  but  as  the  first  faint  streaks  of  the  early  dawn  :  and  I  be- 
lieve it  was  not  yet  day-break  with  my  dear  wife.  She  was  young,  cheer- 
ful, and  much  esteemed  by  her  connexions,  which  were  genteel  and 
numerous.  She  was  not  wanting  in  that  decent  religion  which  is  compat- 
ible  with  the  supposed  innocent  gayeties  of  a  worldly  life;  and  which 
disposes  people  to  be  equally  ready  and  punctual  (m  their  respective  sea- 
sons) at  church  and  at  cards,  at  the  assembly  or  theatre,  and  at  the  sa- 
crament. Further  than  this  she  knew  not,  nor  was  I  qualified  to  teach 
her.  It  is  rather  probable  that,  if  I  could  have  remained  at  home,  my 
'  great  attachment  to  her  would  have  drawn  roe  into  the  same  paths,  and 
thj^we  should  have  looked  no  higher  for  happiness  than  to  our  mutual 
satisfaction  in  each  other. 

But  God  had  designed  better  things  for  us.  The  season  for  sailing  ap- 
proached, and  I  was  constrained  to  leave  her,  to  take  the  command  and 
charge  of  my  ship.  This  n'Mressity  of  being  absent  from  her,  which  then 
seemed  to  me  bitter  as  death,  I  have  now  reason  to  acknowledge  as  one 
of  the  chief  mercies  of  my  life.  iVist  periUtiem^periUBem.  If  I  could  have 
obtained  my  fond  short-sighted  wish,  and  have  continued  with  her,  I  see 
that,  humanly  speaking,  it  might  have  proved  the  ruin  of  us  both. 

The  summons  I  received  to  repair  to  Liverpool,  awakened  me  as  out 
of  a  dream.  When  I  was  forced  from  her,  I  found  both  leisure  and  occa- 
sion for  much  reflection.  «My  serious  thoughts,  which  had  been  almost 
smothered,  begsn  to  revive.  And  my  anxiety  with  respect  to  what 
might  possibly  happen  while  I  was  abroad,  induced  me  to  ofier  up  many 
prayers  for  her,  before  I  well  knew  how  to  pray  for  myself.    He  who 


PREFACE.  9 

lakes  notice  of  the  cries  of  the  young  ravens  in  iheir  nests,  was  pleased  to 
hear  mine.  In  a  word,  I  soon  felt  the  need  of  that  support  which  only 
religion  can  give.  The  separation  likewise  tended,  on  both  sides,  to  give 
a  certain  tenderness  and  delicacy,  and  thereby  a  permanency,  to  our  af- 
fection, which  might  not  have  flourished  to  equal  advantage^  through  life^ 
if  we  had  always  lived  togetlien 

This  brief  introduction  may  |)08sibly  throw  some  light  upon  several 
passages  which  will  occur  in  the  course  of  my  correspondence. 

The  only  expedient  we  could  then  think  of  to  alleviate  the  pains  of  ab- 
sence, was  writing.  Letters  were  accordingly  exchanged,  by  every  post, 
white  I  staid  in  England :  and  when  I  sailed,  and  could  not  expect  to 
hear  from  her  for  a  long  time,  I  still  continued  to  write  -on  the  usual  post- 
days.  And  this  practice  afforded  me  so  much  relief  and  pleasure,  that  it 
was  not  long  before  I  wrote  (i(  business  and  circumstances  would  permit) 
almost  every  day  of  every,  week.  Few^  if  any,  of  my  letters  miscarried. 
The  first  volume*  of  ffiis  publication  is  formed  by  a  selection  of  extracts 
from  those  which  I  sent  home  during  the  three  voyages  I  made  to  Africa. 
Those  in  the  second,  are  extracted  from  a  number  almost  equal,  which  I 
wrote  when  we  were  occasionally  separated,  after  the  good  providence  of 
God  freed  me  from  that  iniquitous  employment  in  which  I  was  too  long 
ignorantly  engaged,  and  appointed  me  a  settlement  on  shore. 

When  I  first  undertook  this  painful,  pleasing  task,  I. had  not  the  least 
thought  of  the  letters  appearing  in  print  so  soon.  I  intended  them  (or  a 
posthumous  legacy  to  my  friends  and  to  the  public.  But  in  the  progress 
of  the  work,  my  objections  to  publishing  them  myself,  were  gradually  weak- 
ened ;  and  I  became  more  williug  to  erect,  as  it  were,  a  monument  to  the 
memory  of  a  valuable  and  much  valued  woman  in  my  own  life-time*  The 
only  justifiable  plea  1  can  allege  fur  printing  these  letters  at  all,  is  a  hope 
that,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  they  may  be  made  useful  to  some  of  my  read- 
ers ;  and  if  this  hope  be  not  ill-founded,  the  sooner  tliey  appear  the  better. 
Some  testimony  in  favour  of  the  happiness  of  wedded  life,  some  intima- 
tion of  the  snares  and  abatements  which  attend  it,  seems  not  unseasona- 
ble in  the  present  day.  And  perhaps  I, am,  by  experience,  qualified  to 
be  as  unexceptionable  a  witness,  in  both  respects,  as  most  men. 

I  am  aware  that  I  shall  expose  myself  to  the  charge  of  egotism ;  but 
this  I  may  cheerfully  submit  to,  if  oiy  heart  does  not  deceive  me  with 
respect  to  my  motives  and  proposed  end.  Neither  the  censures  nor  the 
praises  of  men,  ought  to  have  an  undue  influence  upon  those  who  profess 

*  These  letters  were  originally  published  in  two  volumes. 

Vol.  IV.  2 


10  PEEFACe. 

to  act  with  a  view  to  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  benefit  of  their  fellow- 
creatures.  And  as  to  myself,  now  far  advance^  in  life,  and  standing 
upon  the  brink  of  the  grave  and  of  eternity,  it  does  not  become  me  to  be 
very  solicitoas  what  nmrtals  may  say  or  think  of  me,  either  at  present,  or 
when  I  shall  cease  to  be  seen  among  them,  provided  I  am  justly  charge- 
able with  nothing  unsuitable  to  my  profession  and  general  character. 
We  must«all  shortly  appear  before  the  tribunal  of  the  great,  unerring 
Judge,  the  one  Lawgiver,  who  is  able  to  save  or  to  destroy.  Diet  iste 
uuUcabit.  Then  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  will  be  unfolded,  and  every 
character  will  appear  in  its  true  liglit. 

Yet  as  my  letters  are  of  a  singular  cast,  and  I  tread  upon  rather  new 
and  unbeaten  ground,  the  respect  which  I  owe  to  my  readers  re- 
quires me  to  request  their  candid  perusal,  and  to  soften,  if  I  can- 
such  objections  as  I  foresee  may  arise  in  their  minds  (as  they  may  be 
differently  disposed)  to  different  parts  of  the  book. 

It  is  proper  to  make  an  apology  to  the  public  at  large,  for  the  detail  of 
many  incidents  which,  however  interesting  to  myself,  especially  at  the 
time  of  writing,  are  certainly  not  sufficiently  so  to  deserve  general 
attention.  If  I  had  not  suppressed  the  greater  part  of  these,  my 
two  small  volumes  would  have  swelled  to  folios.  To  have  sup- 
pressed them  all,  besides  defeating  my  main  design,  would  have 
made  the  little  remainder  appear  harsh  and  stiff;  would  have  given 
the  letters  an  air  of  declamation,  and  have  destroyed  that  freedom 
which  is  essential  to  the  epistolary  style.  It  is  difficult  to  draw  the  ex- 
act line,  and  to  fix  the  proper  medium ;  and  especially  so  to  me,  on  a 
subject  in  which  I  am  so  nearly  concerned,  and  on  which  I  could  not 
well  consult  my  friends.  I  have  kept  this  difficulty  in  view  through  the 
whole,  and  have  acted  to  the  best  of  my  judgment.  What  some  persons 
will  blame,  others  may  approve,  and  my  books  will  be  open  to  all.  Be- 
sides, as  the  workings  and  emotions  common  to  the  human  heart  are 
much  fewer  than  the  various  events  and  occasions  that  may  excite  them; 
some  account  of  my  own  feelings,  under  certain  circumstances,  may  ap- 
ply to  the  feelings  of  others  in  their  more  important  affairs. 

To  my  more  serious  readers,  I  may  well  apologize  for  most  of  the  let. 
•  ters  of  an  early  date ;  which  I  should  certainly  be  ashamed  of  now,  if  they 
were  printed  by  themselves.  But  as  I  began  to  write  about  the  same 
time  that  I  began  to  see ;  and,  in  proportion  as  light  increased  upon  my 
mind,  my  letters  assumed  a  graver  cast ;  I  was  willing  to  insert  such  a 
series  as  might  mark  the  progress  of  that  spiritual  knowledge  which  the 
Lord  taught  me  to  seek,  and  which  I  did  not  seek  emirely  in  vain.    My 


PREFACX.  11 

letters,  which  at  first  were  triflingy  soon  became  more  serious ;  and  as  I 
was  led  into  further  views  of  the  principles  and  privileges  of  the  Gospel,  I 
endeavoured  to  communicate  to  my  dear  corr^poi^ent  what  I  had  receiv* 
ed.  And,  in  due  time,  he  was  pleased  to  make  tmrn  a  mean  of  affecting 
her  heart,  and  impressing  her  with  the  same  desires  and  aims.  For  which 
mercy  I  can  never  sufficiently  adore  and  praise  him. 

If  they  who  think  lightly  of  marriage,  or  who  chiefly  engage  in  it  upon 
interested  motives,  prefering  the  wealth,  and  pomp,  and' glare  of  the 
world  to  a  union  of  hearts ;  if  such  persons  should  treat  all  that  1  have 
written  upon  the  subject  as  folly,  rant,  and  enthusiasm,  I  cannot  help  it. 
To  them,  I  owe  no  apology.  I  only  hope  they  will  not  be  angry  with 
me  for  expressing  a  friendly  wish  that  tbey  might  be  even  as  I  was,  ex- 
cepting the  heart-aches  and  inquietudes  that  I  sometimes  fett,  which  I 
considered  as  a  price  paid  (and  I  thought  the  purchase  not  dear)  for  my 
satisfaction.  Long  experience  and  much  observation  have  convinced 
me,  that  the  marriage  state,  when  properly  formed  and  prudently  con- 
ducted, affords  the  nearest  approach  to  happiness  (of  a  merely  temporal 
kind)  that  can  be  attained  in  this  uncertain  world,  and  which  will  best 
abide  the  test  of  sober  reflection. 

To  infidels,  sceptics,  and  libertines,  if  such  should  be  among  the  num- 
ber of  my  readers,  I  cannot  expect  that  any  apology  of  mine,  for  what 
might  be  justly  exceptionable,  would  be  either  acceptable  or  sufficient. 
They  will  be  glad  if  they  can  pick  out  any  sentiments,  either  false  or  tri- 
vial, to  exhibit  as  specimens  of  the  whole.  Yet  I  have  something  to  say 
to  them;  not  in  a  spirit  of  defiance,  but  of  meekness.  /These  characters 
were  once,  alas  !  my  own.  Had  my  abilities  and  opportunities  been  equal 
to  the  depraved  taste  of  my  heart,  I  should  have  rivalled  Voltaire  himself. 
My  own  experience  convinces  me,  that  nothing  short  of  a  divine  power 
pan  soften  that  mind  which,  after  having  stifled  repeated  checks  of  con- 
science, has  renounced  revelation,  and  is  hardened  like  steel  by  infidelity. 
I  know  the  gall  and  bitterness,  the  effects,  and  the  awful  danger  of  that 
state.  Such  persons  are  entitled  to  my  compassion  and  my  prayers ;  if, 
peradventure,  it  may  please  God  to  give  them  repentance,  to  the  acknow- 
ledgment of  the  truth.  It  is  not  the  smallest  evil  resulting  from  this  ma- 
lignant poison,  that  they  who  are  infected  by  it,  cannot*be  content  with 
going  on  iiMheir  own  way  alone ;  but  usually  labour,  with  a  zeal  almost 
eqnal  to  that  of  a  martyr,  to  draw  others  into  the  sanAe  path.  '  There  is  sr 
something  within  them  which  will,  at  times,  remonstrate  and  recoil,  in  de- 
fiance of  their  utmost  efforts.  At  such  seasons,  (like  children  in  the  dark,) 


13  PREFACE. 

Ufilesi  they  faave  company,  their  spirits  will  flag.  This  prompts  them  to 
entploy  every  art  of  sophisti|^  and  dissimulation  to  gain  proselytes. 

Historical  deductioi^  and  learned  arguments  are  not  necessary  to 
eyince  the  truth  of  the  Gospel.  It  proves  its  own  importance  by  its  ob- 
vious tendency,  and  by  its  uniform  effects.  Let  a  thinking  man  suppose, 
for  a  moment,  that  the  motives,  hopes,  and  rules  proposed  in  the  New 
Testament,  were  to  be  universally  understood,  cordially  embraced,  and 
itrictly  observed,  to-morrow ;  the  sure  consequence,  that  a  change  equal- 
ly universal,  in  the  general  habits,  tempers,  and  pursuits  of  mankind, 
would  likewise  to-morrow  take  place,  must  force  itself  upon  bis  mind. 
The  wilderness  would  become  a  garden  :  fraud,  violence,  discord,  op- 
pression, and  profligacy,  would  instantly  cease ;  order,  justice,  peace, 
benevolence,  and  every  branch  of  morality,  would  instantly  flour- 
ish. Men  would  live  as  brethren^  and  treat  each  other  as  they 
could  equitably  expect  to  be  treated  themselves  in  simlar  cases.  Such 
are  the  actual  efiects,  where  the  Gospel  is  truly  received.  How  ma- 
ny who,  like  the  man  possessed  with  a  legion,  or  like  me,  were  mis- 
erable and  mischievous,  a  burden  to  themselves  and  to  their  friends, 
and  a  nuisance  in  the  community,  have  been,  and  still  are,  brought  to  their 
right  minds,  rescued  from  the  tyranny  of  contending  inordinate  passions, 
and  taught  to  fill  up  their  places  in  society  with  decorum  and  usefulness ! 
The  Gospel,  thus  embraced,  is  presently  found  to  be  exactly  suited  to  the 
wants,  desires,  and  forebodings  of  the  human  heart.  It  adds  a  relish  to 
all  the  comforts  of  life  ;  diminishes  the  pressure  of  afflictions  ;  affords  a 
balm  for  every  wound,  a  cordial  for  every  care  ;  and  enables  tlie  believer 
to  meet  death  with  composure,  dignity,  and  hope. 

How  ungenerous  then,  how  cruel,  are  they  who  endeavour  to  rob  us  of 
this  precious  depositum,  when  they  have  nothing  to  propose  as  a  substi* 
tute  ?  But  blessed  be  (rod,  their  attempts  are  no  less  vain  than  deperate. 
They  may  blind  the  eyes  of  a  few,  but  they  cannot  deprive  the  sun  of  its 
light. 

Such  is  the  power  of  guilt  and  fear  to  alienate  the  mind  from  God,  that 
they  who  would  tremble  to  be  seated  in  a  carriage  drawn  by  unruly  horses, 
with  no  one  to  manage  the  reins,  are  reduced  to  deny  a  governing  providence 
of  God  over  all  his  creatures,  and  especially  over  mankind.  They  think 
it  less  uncomfortable  to  suppose,  that  the  contingencies  to  which  we  are 
liable,  in  such  a  world  as  this,  are  the  mere  unavoidable  result  of  second 
causes,  than  that  they  are  under  the  direction  of  Him  whose  almighty 
|iower  is  combined  with  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness.  For  they  know 
and  feel,  that  if  there  be  a  God,  if  lie  be  wise  and  good,  and  if  he  takes 


PREFACE.  13 

cognitance  of  tbe  hearts  and  actions  of  men,  they  have  every  thing  to 
dread.  From  |)erson's  of  this  stamp,  I  can  expect  no  favour.  I  once 
thought,  or  wished,  as  they  do  ;  hut  the  divine  Providence,  which  I  long 
denied  and  defied,  convinced  me  of  my  error  by  multiplied  merciful  inter- 
positions in  my  behalf.  May  the  like  mercy  and  compassion  be  extend- 
ed to  many  others  who,  at  present,  know  not  what  they  do ! 

I  return  from  this  digression.  My  views  in  sending  these  letters* 
abroad,  are  chiefly  four : — 

1.  As  a  public  testimony  of  the  thanks  which  I  owe  to  the  God  of  my 
life,  for  giving  me  such  a  treasure ;  for  uniting  our  hearts  by  such  tender 
ties,  and  for  continuing  her  to  me  so  long. 

2.  As  a  monument  of  respect  and  gratitude  to  her  memory.  She  was 
my  pleasing  companion,  my  most  affectionate  friend,  my  judicious  coun- 
sellor.  I  seldom  or  never  repented  of  acting  according  to  her  advice. 
And  I  seldom  acted  against  it,  without  being  convinced,  by  the  event,  that 
I  was  wrong. 

3.  I  hope  to  show  by  the  most  fkmiliar  kind  of  proof,  exampky  that 
marriage,  (when  the  parties  are  united  by  affection,  and  the  general  con- 
duct is  governed  by  religion  and  prudence,)  is  not  only  an  honourable, 
but  a  comfortable  state.  But,  from  what  I  have  felt,  and  what  I  have 
seen,  I  am  well  assured  that  religion,  by  which  I  mean  the  fear  of  God,  a 
r^^ard  to  his  precepts,  and  a  dependence  upon  his  care,  is  absolutely  ne- 
cessary to  make  us  comfortable,  or  happy,  even  in  the  possession  of  our 
own  wishes.  The  fairest  prospects,  unless  founded  upon  this  basis,  may 
be  compared  to  a  house  built  upon  the  sand,  which  may  seem  to  answer 
for  a  time,  while  the  weather  is  fine ;  but  which,  when  tried  by  tbe 
storms  and  floods,  the  changes  and  calamities  inseparable  from  the  pre- 
sent state  of  things,  will  sooner  or  later  fall,  and  involve  the  builders  in 
confusion  and  distress. 

4.  I  likewise  hope,  that  my  example  may  prove  a  warning  to  otherS; 
who  set  out  with  warm  hopes  of  satisfaction,  to  be  cautious  of  ^n  over-at- 
tachment to  their  creature-comforts.  Hinc  ilke  lacrytMB.  My  sharpest 
trials,  and  my  roost  pungent  causes  for  repentance  and  humiliation, 
throQgb  life,  sprung  from  this  source ! 


LETTERS  TO  A  WIFE. 


1750. 
FIRST  VOYAGE  TO  AFRICA. 


•  St.  A1ban\  May  19. 
Mt  Dearest, 

I  Could  have  reached  Dunstable  to-night,  but  I  remembered 
that  yoa  had  desired  me  not  to  ride  late. 

I  think  I  fully  obeyed  you  io  not  saying  much  when  I  took 
my  leave.  My  heart  was  really  too  ful|;  and  had  I  been  more 
able,  the  fear  of  increasing  your  uneasiness  would  have  prevented 
me.  Were  I  capable  of  describing  all  the  tender  sentiments  that 
have  occurred  since  we  parted,  an  indifferent  person  would  allow 
me  to  be  master  of  ibe  pathetic.  But  I  cannot  express  what  I  feel. 
Do  me  the  justice  to  believe  my  affection  goes  beyond  any  words 
I  can  use. 

I  purpose  to  set  off  early  to-morrow,  and  to  attend  service  at 
church  somewhere  on  the  road;  which  I  do  not  care  to  miss  with- 
out necessity.  But  now  I  am  particularly  desirous  of  improving 
the  first  opportunity  to  implore,  in  a  solemn  manner,  the  protec- 
tion of  Divine  Providence,  that  we  may  be  favoured  with  a  happy 
meeting. 

Gracious  God !  favour  me  and  my  dearest  M****  with  health, 
and  a  moderate  share  of  the  good  things  of  this  life !  Grant  that  I 
may  be  always  happy  in  her  love,  and  always  prove  deserving  of 
it !  For  the  rest,  the  empty  gewgaws  and  gilded  trifles,  which  en« 
gage  the  thoughts  of  multitudes,  I  hope  I  shall  be  always  able  to 
look  upon  them  with  indifference. 

I  make  no  apology  for  this  serious  strain.  Believe  me,  I  write 
experimentally;  and  to  the  degree  that  I  love  you,  I  could  not 
bear  to  be  torn  from  you  in  this  manuer,  if  I  was  not  supported 
by  my  principles ;  which  teach  me  that  I  ought  to  be  not  only  con- 
tent, but  thankful  that  things  are  so  well  with  me  as  they  are,  and 
to  expect  no  pleasure  in  this  life  without  some  abatement.  I  be- 
lieve there  may  be  persons  who  can  keep  themselves  in  tolerable 
good  humour,  by  the  strength  of  their  own  minds,  in  course  of 
prosperity ;  but  when  crosses  and  disappointments  take  place,  or 


16  LETTERS   TO    A  WIVE. 

when  the}'  are  constrained  to  part  from  what  they  bold  most  dear, 
if  they  cannot  call  in  religion  to  their  aid,  they  usually  sink  and 
despond*     At  least  I  have  always  found  it  so.  , 

I  have  a  good  horse  and  a  good  road,  and  pretty  good  spirits 
likewise,  considering  that  the  more  haste  I  make,  the  more  I  in- 
crease my  distance  from  you.  But  when  I  reflect,  that  now  your 
interest,  a^  well  as  my  own,  calls  me  away,  methinks  I  can  scarce- 
ly go  fast  enough. 

I  am  likely  to  perform  the  whole  jonmey  alone;  but  I  want  no 
company.  It  will  always  be  a  full  entertainment  to  me,  to  recol- 
lect how  very  happy  I  have  been  in  yours,  and  to  animate  myself 
with  the  pleasing  hope,  that  in  due  time  I  shall  be  so  again. 

I  am,  be.  inviolably  yours. 


Liverpool^  May  27. 

I  WAS  forced  to  defer  writing  so  long  on  Friday,  that  I  was 
constrained  to^  leave  a  thousand  things  unsaid,  1  therefore  begin 
now  in  time.  *  When  you  write  next,  (which  1  beg  may  always  be 
by  return  of  post,)  let  roe  know  at  what  hours  you  usually  rise, 
breakfast,  dine,  sup,  and  go  to  bed,  that  I  may  keep  time  with 
you  or  at  least,  attend  you  with  my  thoughts,  if  I  should  be  other: 
wise  engaged. 

I  cannot  inform  you  that  I  have  a  ship  yet;  no  one  offers  at 
present  which  Mr.  M****  thinks  good  enough.  Oh !  that  it  was 
possible  for  you  to  go  with  me  where  I  go,  to  cheer  and  enliven  me 
amidst  fatigues  and  difficulties,  without  sharing  in  them !  How 
light  would  they  then  seem  to  me !  Bat  I  submit.  At  least,  hap- 
pen what  may,  it  will  give  me  pleasure  to  think  that  my  better, 
idearer  part,  is  in  safely  at  home. 

I  have  now  received  yours  of  the  24th,  and  kissed  it  a  hundred 
times !  I  beg  you  not  to  give  way  to  uneasy  apprehensions  for  me : 
for  while  you  are  well  and  easy,  1  am  as  happy  as  I  wish  to  be 
during  my  absence  from  you.  I  should  be  sorry  to  find  this  ab- 
sence become  more  easy  to  me  by  time.  Let  it  suffice  that  I  eat, 
drink,  and  sleep  well,  and  am  in  health  and  spirits  to  do  every 
thing  that  may  appear  necessary  to  procure  us  a  future  happy  in- 
terview. 

I  acknowledge  that  at  intervals,  and  when  alone,  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  past  almost  overpowers  roe  with  a  lender  concern ;  but 
do  jaot  be  grieved  for  me,  for  I  find  a  pleasure  in  the  indulgence  of 
«ucii  thoughts,  which  I  would  not  part  with  upon  any  less  consid- 
eration than  that  of  being  actually  with  yon.  I  have  written  my- 
self into  tears  now,  and  yet  I  feel  a  serenity  and  satisfaction^  of 


VmST  ▼OTAGE  TO  AFRICA.  '  }7 

which)  till  I  could  call  you  mini?,  I  had  no  perception.  I  ^9Jf%9t. 
bemoan  your  absence  without  reoDemberiug,  at  the  s^]^e  timf^, 
how  happy,  and  how  loog  happy,  I  have  been  with  yoi|.  Tbi;s 
is  a  kind  of  bank  stock,  a  treasure  of  which  1  cjinnot  \^c  d^priyr 
ed.  And  while  I  retain  the  recollection,  that  I  have  been  so  hap- 
py, I  cannot  be  quite  uncomfortable.  But  why  dp  I  say,  I  mcp 
was  ? — ^I  am  so  still ;  for  the  consciousness  that  you  love  ix^e,  is 
a  present  and  permanent  comfort,  and  will  be  so  at  all  times,  apd 
lu  ail  places.  Your  love  was  my  principal  desire  ;  and,  ^ithPH^ 
it,  all  that  you  had  besides  in  your  power  to  bestow  vou)d  baye 
been  dull  and  insipid. 

Since  you  have  kindly  promised  to  write  by  every  post,  I  wi^b 
we  had  a  post  every  day. 


Lieerpooly  June  29. 

Though,  at  taking  up  the  pen,  I  have  not  a  single  sentence 
ready,  I  expect  something  will  soon  occur,  when  1  write  to  you. 
I  am  going  to  set  you  a  pattern,  how  to  fill  a  sheet  with  nothing, 
or  what  is  little  better  than  nothing.  But  as  I  know  yon  wi|l 
make  favourable  allowances,  I  am  content  to  appear  at  a  disad- 
vantage :  I  can  submit  that  you  should^nd  tautologies  and  ioco* 
berence  to  excuse,  provided  I  give  you  no  cause  to:  think  me  un- 
grateful.— 

— ^Do  not  think  of  me  as  suflering  or  grieving-^rather  consider 
how  happy  you  have  made  me,  and  that  you*  have  put  me  into  a 
situation  from  which  I  can  look  upon  princes  without  envy;  and 
that,  notwithstanding  ray  regret  for  parting  with  you  for  a  sea^ 
son,  I  would  not  change  circumstances  with  any  man  in  the  king* 
dom.  Of  the  many  temporal  blessings  for  which  I  am  indebted 
to  a  gracious  Providence,  I  set  a  higher  value  upon  none  than 
this,  that  I  was  formed  with  a  heart  capable  of  tender  and  disin« 
terested  affection,  and  directed  to  you  for  the  object  of  it. 

I  am  e^ntirely  yours» 


Ijiverpooli  July  10. 

I  MUST  be  up  late  to-night  to  attend  the  tide ;  but  by  writing 
to  you,  I  can  figreeably  fill  up  the  time,  which  might  otberwxiie 
seem  tedious. 

I  pity  those  who  must  fly  to  company  and  naise  to  fill  tip  their 
vacant  hours ;  and  must  be  always  changing  the  scene,  though 
often  for  the  worse.    Whereas  I,  when  i  am  most  retired  and  soTi- 

VoL.  IV.  3 


18  Li:TT£RS  TO  A  Wll^C. 

Ury,  by  directiog  my  thoughts  to  you,  have  more  pleasure  cbao 
they  can  conceive  of  in  their  gayest  moments  !  1  say  this  the 
more  assuredly,  because  I  have  formerly  been  on  the  other  side 
of  the  question  ;  and  have  sought  satisfaction,  in  that  manner  of 
life,  with  so  much  earnestness,  that  I  should,  at  least  sometimes, 
Imve  found  it^  had  it  really  been  to  be  met  with.  But  I  can 
scarcely  recollect  an  hour  of  my  past  life  with  any  pleasure,  ex- 
cepting the  time  1  have  passed  in  your  company  ;  and  for  that  1 
think  the  innumerable  troubles  and  sufferings  I  previously  under- 
went not  a  dear  purchase. 

I  was  on  shipboard  this  moaning  till  past  two  o'clock.  The 
weather  was  perfectly  serene,  the  moon  shone  bright,  and  having 
nothing  from  within  or  without  to  discompose  me,  I  passed  the 
hours  pleasantly  in  thinking  of  you.  It  was  with  great  satisfac- 
tion I  indulged  the  hope  that  you  were  then  in  a  gentle  slumber, 
under  a  safe  and  sure  protection,  and  as  free  from  inquietudes  as 
myself.  I  then  imagined  the  scene  changing  to  what  I  must,  in  a 
little  time,  expect ;  when  dark  nights,  heavy  rains,  violent  winds, 
mountainous  seas,  and  awful  thunder,  will  sometimes  all  combine 
to  alarm  me.  But  this  anticipation  gives  me  no  uneasiness  at 
present ;  for  even  then  I  shall  hope,  that  ray  dearer,  better  part, 
will  be  as  calm  and  undisturbed  as  she  is  now.  And  as  to  the 
other  half  of  myself,  now^n  board  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  it  may  be 
pleased  with  the  expectation  of  an  ample  amends  at  the  comple- 
tion of  the  voyage.  1  shall  probably  at  such  times  often  repeat  to 
myself  a  part  of  the  verses  which  I  addressed  to  you,  at  a  time 
when  I  had  little  hope  of  obtaining  the  happiness  I  attempted  to 
describe.  They  were  then,  therefore  a  mere  rant,  but  they  now 
express  my  settled  j*idgment  and  choice  ;— 

These  ihreafning  seas,  where  wild  confusion  reigns. 
And  yawning  dangers  all  arotnid  appear, 
I  value  more  than  groves  or  flowery  plains, 
Since  'tis  the  only  way  that  leads  to  her. 

Believe  me,  1  should  think  it  well  worth  the  trouble  of  another 
journey  to  London,  to  have  an  interview  with  you,  if  only  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour.     But  it  must  not  be,  and  I  submit. 

You  either  misunderstood  the  latter  part  of  my  letter,  or  I  ex- 
pressed myself  awkwardly,  which  is  most  likely.  1  did  not  mean 
to  say  that  you  were  wanting  in  religion  ;*  I  said,  or  meant  to 
say,  that  as  I  thought  myself  not  wanting  in  love,  when  I  first  of- 

*  Alas !  neither  of  us  had  much  sense  of  religion  at  that  time.  She  was  my 
idol,  add  peihaps  I  was  her's.  We  looked  little  further  for  happiness  than  Co 
each  other. 


FOtST  VOYAGE  TO  AFRICA.  19 

fered  yoa  my  heart,  and  yet  found  afterward$,  that  my  notions  of 
it  had  been  greatly  enlarged  by  a  more  intimate  relation  to  you ; 
80  it  might  be  a  happy  circumstance  if  we  could  be  recipro* 
cally  belpfdl  in  improving  each  other's  ideas  of  religion.  If  I 
seemed  to  take  the  upper  hand,  and  affect  the  dictating  strain,  I 
ask  your  pardon.  1  ought  to  be  sensible  that  I  am  not  qualified 
for  it,  and  to  be  more  ready  to  learn  than  to  teach.- 

I  am,  &c.  yours. 


Liverpool^  July  20. 

I  RECEIVED  your  welcome  letter  of  the  17th,  which,  when  1  had 
read  it  about  twenty  times  over,  furnished  me  with  many  pleasing 
reflections  ;  and  led  me  to  compare  my  present  state  with  the  low, 
insipid  life  I  must  have  led,  even  in  the  most  aiBoent  circumstan- 
ces, if  my  sincere  love  had  not  obtained  the  only  adequate  prize,  a 
reciprocal  affection  from  you. 

I  am  still  of  opinion  that,  at  first,  compassion  and  generosity 
induced  you  to  think  favourably  of  me.  It  did  not  suit  with 
your  temper  to  be  unafieoted  by  the  pain  and  nneasiness  of  aqy 
one,  much  less  of  one  who,  though  under  a  thousand  disadvanta* 
ges,  you  had  reason  to  believe  really  loved  you.  And  if  I  am  not 
mistaken,  you  used  some  constraint  with  yourself,  in  the  begin- 
ning, to  bring  your  inclination  to  coincide  with  the  power  you 
had  to  make  me  happy.  Thus  I  thought  when  I  received  your 
hand  in  marriage.  Yet  1  was  no  less  easy  and  secure,  than  if  I 
had  made  the  most  successful  improvement  of  our  long  acquaint- 
ance in  gaining  your  heart.  For  I  knew  you  too  well  to  fear  that 
after  you  had  gone  so  far,  you  would  stop  short,  till  your  affec- 
tion was  equal  to  my  own. 

I  was  pretty  well  assured  ,iu  my  own  mind,  that  I  should  make 
it  the  chief  business,  or  rather  pleasure,  of  my  life,  to  study  and 
aeize  every  opportunity  of  obliging  you  ;  and  1  was  no  less  cer- 
tain chat  the  most  trivial  instance  of  such  an  intention  would  not 
be  overlooked  by  you,  or  lost  uppn  you.  The  event  has  answer- 
ed my  expectation.  I  have  now  the  same  confidence  that  you 
love  me,  as  that  I  love  you ;  and  confidence  whiph  I  would  not 
exchange  for  any  consideration  the  world  could  offer ;  a  con- 
fidence which  renders  me  superior  to  all  the  little  entertain- 
menu  that  would  allure  we  while  I  am  here,  and  which  I  hope 
will  satisfy  and  cheer  me  when,  in  a  few  days,  I  shall  leave  them 
all  behind  me.  I  long  to  be  gone,  for  after  pahing  with  you,  all 
scenes  will  be  equally  indifferent  to  me,  till  the  happy  hour  of  our 
re-uuiofl. 


20  JLGTTEBS  TO  ^  WITS. 

{ tlmk  you  fdr  ybnr  prombe  of  writiiig  weekly,  aftd  you  may 
{fepend  upon  my  not  beiog  behindhand  with  yoo.  Bot  remem- 
ber, there  is  no  regular  pa%i  from  Africa,  and  that  the  length  of 
the  passage  of  a  ship  is  very  precarious.  I  hope,  therefore,  yon 
will  not  indulge  discouraging  thoughts,  if  you  should  not  hear 
from  me  so  sooi^  as  yon  may  expect. 

The  weather  has  been  darJK  and  rainy.  It  is  some  time  sinpe 
I  saw  the  north  star.*  When  I  am  at  sea,  I  shall  watch  it,  at 
the  hour  we  agreed  upon,  that  I  may  have  the  pleasure  of  think* 
ing  that  sometimes  our  eyes  and  thoughts  are  fixed  upon  the  same 
object.  I  am,  he,  yours. 


Liverpool^  July  29. 

I  THINK,  if  I  stay  here  much  longer,  I  must  adopt  your  method, 
and  follow  your  long  letter  with  a  very  short  one.  For  though 
I  always  take  pleasure  in  writing,  I  begin  to  be  ashamed  of  send- 
ing you  little  more  tlian  repetitions.  1  have  expressed  my  affec- 
tion (so  far  as  my  knowledge  of  words  can  express)  in  so  many 
dtfierent  forms  and  phrases,  that  I  am  quite  at  a  loss  for  new  ones. 
I  most  either  write  but  little,  as  you  do,  or  to  little  purpose,  unless 
I  begin  again,  as  from  the  first ;  and  in  that  case  I  believe  my 
second  round  of  letters  would  be  very  similar  to  the  former,  be- 
tanse  I  write  fl-om  my  feelings.     My  heart  dictates  every  line. 

And  though  my  head  often  interposes,  and  observes  that  this 
hxpreBsion  is  hardly  grammar,  the  next  not  well  turned,  the  third 
tinnecessary,  and  so  on ;  yet  heart  persists  in  his  own  way,  and 
trb^tever  occurs  to  him  goes  down  upon  the  paper,  tu  defiance  of 
head's  wise  remonstrances.  The  contention  arises  sometimes  to 
such  a  height,  that  head  tells  heart  he  raves  and  is  an  enthusiast. 
Aiod  heart  calls  head  a  conceited  pedant,  whose  narrow  views  are 
confined  to  a  little  nicety  and  exactness  in  trifles,  because  he  is  a 
Stranger  to  the  emotions  of  love.  As  you  know  which  side  of  the 
debiite  I  favour,  I  need  not  tell  you  that  when  my  strains  are 
doll,  it  is  nohe  of  poor  heart's  fault,  who  always  does  his  best  to 
please ;  but  because  head  refuses  to  assist  htm,  and  leaves  us 
both  to  shift  for  ourselves :  though  I  often  tell  him  that  I  will  nei^ 
tber  regtod  heart,  head,  nor  hands,  unless  they  all  consider  them- 

*  With  this  view  we  agreed  upon  an  evening  hour,  as  a  little  relief  in  aln 
scn<Se,  when  we  were  to  Took  at  the  north  star,  if  the  j»ky  was  clear,  and  be 
pleased  with  the  probability  that  we  might  both  be  looking  at  it  at  the  same 
minute.  tVe  knew  but  little  then  of  the  throne  of  grace,  the  central  point,  at 
wbid)  all  who  love  the  Lord  duly  meet  (at  whatever  local  disUncc)  with  bim 
and  with  each  other. 


FIBflT  TOYAOB  TO  ATBICA.  21 

sehes  as  beloKlgilig  to  you,  and  ready  at  all  times  for  your  ser^ 
vice,  as  myself.  '  It  seems  wrong  to  say,  a  man  has  his  heart  in 
his  motith  trhen  be  is  in  great  fear.  I  think  he  may  properly  be 
said  to  have  bis  heart  in  his  moath,  when  be  is  capable  of  relat- 
tng,  in  suitable  terms,  what  really  affects  him,.  So,  had  I  my 
beart  at  my  finger's  ends,  I  should  perhaps  write  a  letter  worthy 
of  your  perusal.  Till  then  I  must  beg  you  to  accept  what  I  send, 
because  it  is  the  best  I  have,  I  am  yours,  &c. 


Liverpool^  July  31. 
I  WAS  kept  some  little  time  in  suspense  for  yours  of  the  28tb, 
which  made  it,  ifi  possible,  more  welcome  when  it  came.  Yet  I 
am  sorry  that  I  hinted  any  thing  to  give  you  an  anxious  thought 
upon  ray  account.  The  pain  I  complained  of  in  my  head,  or  a 
^inuch  more  severe  one,  would  be  vastly  more  tolerable  to  me, 
than  to  hear  that  you  are  made  uneasy.  If  it  had  not  been  a 
common  thing,  and  usually  soon  over,  1  should  not  have  mention- 
ed it ;  but  was  unwilling  to  be  guilty  of  a  short  letter,  without  as- 
signing the  true  reason.  1  am  much  concerned  that  you  should 
have  such  a  weight  upon  your  mind,  and  beg  you,  by  all  the  re- 
gard you  have  for  me,  to  strive  against  it. 

If  ray  dearest  M***  will  permit  me  to  offer  my  best  advice,  and 
which  1  propose  as  a  rule  to  myself — it  is  this — To  endeavour  to 
cast  all  your  care  upon  him  who  has  promised  to  care  for  us,  if  we 
wiil  but  pat  our  trust  in  him.  I  long  attempted  to  apply  the  spe-^ 
cious  maxims  of  philosophy,  to  soften  the  cares  and  trials  of  life,  but 
I  found  them  ineffectual  and  false  ;  or,  however  they  might  have 
mooched  some  of  the  most  ordinary  and  trivial  inquietudes,,  yet  I 
tLin  very  sure  that,  under' this  aggravated  circumstance  of  separa- 
tion from  you,  I  should  be  miserable  and  without  support,  if  reli- 
gion did  not  assist  me  with  nobler  and  more  powerful  motives  of 
consolation.  I  go  from  you  with  the  less  regret,  because  I  leave 
you  in  the  hands  of  Him  who  is  able,  and,  I  trust,  willing,  to  pre- 
serve yon  from  all  evil,  and  to  make  every  thing  easy  to  you. 
And  I  look  forward  to  the  various  scenes  of  my  intended  voyage 
with  cheerftdness,  because  I  am  sensible  that,  in  the  most  remote 
iobospitable  climes,  a  protecting  Providence  will  surround  me, 
and  is  no  less  to  be  depended  en  in  the  most  apparent  dangers, 
than  in  the  greatest  seeming  security. 

Let  roe  again  and  again  entreat  you  not  to  give  way  to  melan* 

cboly ;  assure  me  that  you  will  strive  to  be  cheerful,  or  1  protest 

lahall  be  unwilling  to  laugh,  or  even  to  smile,  lest  I  should  happen 

•  €0  be  naseasonably  merry  when  you  are  sad.     Scarcely  any  iking 


22  LETTERS   TO   A   WIFE. 

will  inspire  me  with  so  much  life  and  spirit,  as  the  hope  that  you 
still  possess  that  cheerfulness  which  nsed  to  be  so  engaging  and 
so  natural  to  you.  Let  me  not  have  to  charge  myself  with  hav- 
ing spoiled  your  temper,  unless  you  mean  to  frighten  me  indeed. 
I  remember  that  before  you  quite  consented  to  marry,  you  told 
me  that  I  was  pressing  you  to  a  life  in  which  you  should  often  re- 
gret the  condition  of  happy  M.  C.  And  I  endeavoured  to  per- 
suade you,  that  you  would  only  change  pleasures,  not  lose  them. 
I  hope,  if  ^ou  will  but  help  me  by  keeping  up  your  spirits,  I  shall 
be  able  to  make  my  words  good.  It  will  surely  be  my  constant 
study  to  approve  myself 

Your  obliged,  affectionate,  and  grateful,  &c. 


At  Sea^  August  20. 

This,  I  hope  will  go  on  shore  by  the  pilot-boat,  to  inform  you 
that  I  am  now  at  sea,  and  with  a  prospect  of  a  fair  wind.  I 
should  be  in  high  spirits  but  that  the  thought  of  being  so  many 
months  at  an  uncertainty  with  respect  to  you  softens  me  into  tears. 
And  your  favour  of  the  sixteenth,  which  I  received  last  night,  has 
renewed  my  anxiety  for  you.  Let  me  beg  of  you  to  be  as  cheer- 
ful as  possible,  and  to  believe  that  the  good  Providence  which, 
after  a  long  separation,  brought  us  together  last  year,  when  we 
were  less  interested  in  each  other,  will  again  join  us  to  our  mutual 
satisfaction.  Once  more,  my  dearest  farewell !  May  the  good 
God  bless  you  with  health  and  peace,  and  restore  me,  at  a  proper 
time,  to  your  arms  ;  and  for  what  is  to  take  place  in  the  interval, 
I  would  make  no  conditions,  but  leave  all  to  Him. 

I  cannot  seal  my  letter  without  one  more  farewell.  I  need  not 
put  you  in  mind  of  writing  by  every  probable  opportunity.  I 
press  to  my  lips  the  paper  that  will  be  with  you  in  a  few  days, 
while  I  must  be  kept  from  you  for  many  months.     Adieu. 

1  am  yours,  &c. 


Ramsay  J  Isle  of  Man^  August  24. 
I  COULD  not  have  greater  pleasure  than  in  the  opportunity 
which  now  offers  me  of  relieving  your  uneasiness  on  my  account. 
We  have  already  met  with  unfavourable  winds  and  weather  ; 
particularly  a  violent  gale  last  night,  and  in  narrow,  dangerous 
navigation.  The  weather  likewise  was  thick  and  dark.  My  own 
caution  and  diligence  would  soon  have  been  of  little  use  ^  the 
wind  blew  so  that  we  could  not  carry  oar  sails,  and  there  was  na  ^ 


FIB9T   TOTAGE   TO   AFRICA.  23 

friendly  port  within  our  power.  But  mydependence  upon  God's 
providence  kept  me  in  tolerable  peace.  I  was  relieved  i)y  the 
same  consideration  which  I  believe  distressed  my  shipmates,  I 
mean  that  we  could  do  nothing  further. 

I  felt  a  persuasion,  that  if  not  so  soon  as  we  could  wish,  yet 
before  it  was  too  late,  some  alteration  would  take  place  in  our 
favour.  Acctlrdingly,  this  morning  the  weather  cleared  up,  and 
the  wind  abated,  and  enabled  me  to  put  into  this  place,  where 
we  anchored  about  two  in  the  afternoon.  The  wind  now  rages 
more  than  before,  and  had  we  continued  this  night  at  sea,  the 
consequence,  (humanly  speaking,)  might  have  been  fatal. 

1  readily  inform  you  of  the  danger  we  have  been  in,  now  it  is 
happily  over  ;  and  hope  you  will  not  be  alarmed  because  I  am 
still  liable  to  the  like ;  but  rather  be  comforted  with  the  thought, 
that  in  the  greatest  difficulties  the  same  great  Deliverei*  is  always 
present.  The  winds  and  the  seas  obey  him.  I  endeavour,  in 
every  scene  of  distress,  to  recollect  the  seasons  in  my  past  life,  in 
which,  when  I  have  given  myself  up  for  lost,  I  have  been  unexpect- 
edly relieved.  Instances  of  this  kind  have  been  frequent  with 
ine,  some  of  them  perhaps  as  remarkable  as  any  that  have  been 
recorded  ;  particularly  my  preservation  in  the  Greyhound  in  the 
year  '48,  which  can  only  be  accounted  for  by  an  immediate  and 
almost  miraculous  interposition  of  divine  power.  Then  I  apply 
th*e  argument  of  David — ^The  God  who  delivered  me  from  the 
paw  of  the  lion,  and  from  the  paw  of  the  bear,  will  also  deliver 
me  from  this  Philistine.  The  God  who  preserved  me  from  sink* 
ing  and  starving,  (from  both  more  than  once,)  who  raised  me 
friends  among  strangers,  when  I  had  disgusted  all  my  own  by  my 
follies;  and,  above  all,  who  has  not  only  afforded  me  the  neces- 
saries of  life,  but  indulged  my  softest  wishes,  obviated  the  many 
hindrances  in  my  way,  and  made  me  happy  in  you — surely  it 
would  be  not  only  ungrateful,  but  unreasonable,  to  distrust  him 
now  who  has  done  so  much  for  me  hitherto. 

1  would  be  almost  content  that  you  should  be  indifferent  con- 
cerning me  during  my  absetice,  provided  your  love  might  revive 
upon  my  return,  that  so  you  might  experience  all  the  pleasing, 
and  be  exempted  from  all  the  painful,  sensations  of  a  married  state. 
But  then  I  must  not  know  it ;  for  I  could  hardly  bear  the  noise 
anclJmperUnence  of  the  world,  were  I  not  enlivened  by  believing 
myself  to  be  often  upon  your  thoughts. 

I  confess  at  some  times,  I  can  hardly  acquit  myself  from  the 
charge  of  selfishness,  that,  for  my  own  gratification,  I  should  so 
earnestly  press  you  to  make  your  peace  of  mind  dependent  upon 
me.  That  you  should  be  unhappy,  and  that  I  should  be  the  oc- 
casion of  it,  would  be  painful  to  me  indeed  !    But,  1  thank  God, 


34  LKTTEBS    TO   A   WIFE* 

all  is  well  hitherto  ;  and  if  yon  (as  1  doabt  not)  will  kfndly  ac- 
cept  my  utmost  endeavours  to  oblige  you  on  our  future  happy 
meetiDgs,  as  a  compensation  for  the  anxiety  you  must  now  and 
then  suffer,  I  hope  I  have  not  done  wrong. 


At  Sea,  September  3. 
I  WROTE  you  three  letters,  while  in  Ramsay  Bay,  but  could  not 
send  the  last  on  shore.  We  sailed  from  thence  the  29th  of  Au- 
gust. The  fair  wind  lasted  but  one  day,  which  w^s  not  suffi- 
cient to  run  us  clear  of  the  land,  and  I  had  some  trouble  and  fa- 
tigue till  Saturday,  when  we  got  a  breeze  that  has  brought  us  into 
what  tlie  sailors  call  sea-room.  The  wind  is  now  contrary  again, 
but  I  have  reason  to  be  thankful  we  are  so  well  as  we  are.  I  am 
at  present  little  more  than  a  gentleman-passenger  ;  I  shall,  per- 
haps, have  little  care  upon  my  head  till  we  arrive  in  Africa,  then 
I  may  expect  care  and  trouble  in  abundance ;  but  all  will  be  wel- 
come upon  your  account.  Therefore,  while  1  have  leisure,  I  shall 
appropriate  an  hoor  every  two  or  three  days  (sometimes,  pehaps, 
daily)  for  writing  to  you,  that  I  may  have  a  sizeable  packet 
ready  at  a  short  warning.  ^ 


At  Sea,  September  10. 

There  is  a  strange  mixture  of  pleasure  and  pain  in  the  life  I  • 
now  lead.  When  1  think  of  the  regard  which  you  express  in  your 
letters,  (one  of  which,  in  their  course,  I  re-peruse  every  post-day,) 
i  feel  a  satisfaction  which  no  wealth  could  buy  from  me.  But 
when  I  think  of  the  uneasiness  it  causes  you,  I  could  almost  bear 
to  be  forgotten.  I  know  I  have  said  this  often,  but  I  must  re- 
peat it  when  you  write  in  a  melancholy  strain.  You  charge  me, 
in  that  which  I  have  now  at  my  lips,  with  making  hours  seem 
more  tedious  to  you  than  days  and  weeks  did  formerly.  I  am 
sorry.     I  beg  you  to  strive  to  be  cheerful. 

Though  1  feel  absence  painful  indeed,  I  do  not  deserve  much 
pity,  because  I  am  absent  for  your  sake.  I  am  likewise  engaged 
in  active  business,  and  have  some  new  scene  offering  everyday, 
to  relieve  my  mind  ;  besides,  I  have  been  long  used  to  suffer,  and 
did  not  begin  to  know  what  peace  or  pleasure  meant  till  I  married 
you.  On  the  contrary,  you,  by  marriage,  exposed  yourself  to 
-cares  and  anxieties  to  which  you  was  belore  a  stranger ;  and  you 
have  done  enough  to  make  me  happy,  if  I  could  be  happy  alone  ; 


FIMT   70TAGC   TO  AFRICA.  !{( 

but  that  i§  iflipossible.     Unless  you  are  happy  likewise,  moQey, 
pleasure,  health,  nay,  love  ilself  wi]l  not  make  me  amends. 


At  Sea,  September  14. 

LasI!  post-day  I  finished  a  large  sheet,  and  did  not  leave  room 
to  write  my  name,  for  I  had  crowded  one  hundred  and  eighty* 
4>De  lines  into  it.  Should  this  come  first /to  your  hand,  yoa 
may  wonder  where  I  could  find  subject  matter.  Notfaing^  (neces- 
sary business  ejLcepted)  seems  deserving  my  attention  but  religion 
and  love  ;  the  one  my  constant  support,  the  other  my  constant 
jsolace :  and  was  I  not  favoured  with  some  taste  for  these,  1  should 
find  a  settled  gloom  in  my  heart,  though  placed  in  the  gayest 
scenes  of  life.  For  at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  I  have  seen  enough 
to  force  my  assent  to  the  confession  which  experience  extorted 
from  Solomon  in  his  latter  days,  "  AM  is  vanity  and  vexation  of 
spirit."  I  mean,  all  that  can  be  possessed  exclusive  of  these  two 
principles  ;  but  under  their  regulation  the  scene  is  changed,  and 
the  whole  creation  blooms  with  beauty. 

Religion,  rightly  understood,  is  doubtless  sufficient  of  itself  to 
bear  us  through  all  the  changes  of  this  world,  and  guide  us  to  a 
better.  But  our  gracious  Master  has  made  us  capable  of  tender 
and  social  affections,  to  add  to  the  comfort  of  the  present  life. 
I  kjiow  nothing  that  is  required  of  us  as  a  duty,  but  what  is  both 
consistent  with  our  happiness,  and  has  a  tendency  to  promote  it. 
^Nor  is  there  a  single  gratification  prohibited,  that  is  not,  in  its 
natural  consequences,  productive  of  pain  or  disgust.  But  yoa 
will  say,  why  all  this  to  me  ?  You  are  guilty  of  no  excess,  (ex-' 
ceptyour  partial  regard  to  me  may  be  deemed  one.)  I  answer, 
it  was  a  grateful  reflection  on  the  goodness  of  God,  and  a  sense 
of  what  I  owe  him,  especially  for  giving  you  to  me,  directed  niy 
pen  ;  and  to  whom  coald  I  so  properly  address  these  thoughts  as 
to  your  dear  self,  since  to  you  I  am  secondarily  i^jdebted  for  my 
present  peace  ? 


At  Sea,  September  18. 

I  SUPPOSE  that  1  am  now  about  half  way  to  Sierra  Leone,  and 
not  less  than  fifteen  hundred  miles  from  my  dearest— a  great  dis- 
tance, and  hourly  increasing  !  But  it  is  not  sufficient  to  divide 
you  from  my  thoughts.  J  have  read  three  more  of  your  letters, 
and  as  often  as  I  take  them  in  hand,!  have  a  pleasure  in  the  re* 
peated  marks  of  your  affection,  which  nothing  else  could  afford. 

Vol.  IV.  4 


ffll  ,  LETTERS   TO   X  "WIFK.. 

AlthoQgh  I  am  obliged  to  go  to  sea,  and  what  is  more,  to  Goiiiea^ 
1  would  not  change  conditions  with  the  most  wealthy  bachelor  oa 
shore.  No  ibx-hunter  can  follow  his  hounds  with  more  alacrity 
than  I  now  traverse  the  pathless  ocean  in  quest  of  a  country  which,, 
but  for  your  sake,  I  should  be  as  earnest  to  avoid.  I  am  obliged 
to  you,  not  only  for  the  happiness  1  have  found,  and  hope  to  find,  at 
home,  but  for  a  pleasure  while  abroad,  m  what  woufd  otherwise 
be  very  unpleasant.  VVIien  1  left  Africa  in  the  G-reyl>odiid,  I 
seemed  resolved  never  to  return  thither  again ;  but  my  resolution 
was  formed  when  1  had  no  hope  that  you  would  ever  make  it 
%vorth  my  while  ;.  and  \  knew  that  nothing  else  could.  But  upoa 
the  encouragement  (though  slender)  which  you  gave  me  when  I 
arrived  there  in  the  Brownlow,  every  thing  appeared  with  a  dif- 
ferent aspect.  And  though,  perhaps,,  few  persons  in  the  same 
space  of  time,  have  met  with  more  daagevs  and  hardships  thaa 
I  then  did,  1  believe  no  one  heard  me  e«mplain  ;  because,  what 
I  had  11^  View  upon  the  end  of  the  first  *voyage,  so  fixed  my 
thoughts,  that  1  could  consider  nothing  as  a  real  bardshfp  that 
had  a  probability  of  being  acknowledged  and  rewarded  by  yon*; 
I  ventured  all  upon  your  honour,  and  was  not  disappointed.  If 
the  bare  hope  of  your  love  was  such  a  support,  judge,  if  you  can, 
kow  the  proofs  I  have  since  obtained  of  it  must  influence  me  ! 


At  Sm,  October  1%. 

I  Air  mucb  obliged  to  Mr.  Addiso»,  from  whom  I  took  the  bint 
of  setting  apart  stated  times  for  writing  to  you,  and  reviewing  your 
dear  letters.  This  expedient  is  a  great  relief  in  your  absence. 
When  I  awake  in  the  morning,  if  it  be  what  I  call  a  post-day,  I  am 
no  less  pleased  than  eliildren  are  with  the  thoughts  of  a  fair-day. 

We  have  not  yet  seen  the  land,  but  I  deem  myself  within  one 
hundred  miles  of  the  Bananas,  which  is  the  first  place  I  propose 
to  call  at.  Th^el  spent  a  part  of  my  wretched  time  in  thraldom, 
of  which  you  have  often  heard  me  speak. 

Little  did  I  think,  in  my  sorrowful  days  there,  when  I  went  al- 
most naked,  so  that  my  skin  in  many  parts  of  my  body  has  been 
blistered  by  the  heat  of  the  sun — where  sometimes  I  have  not  had 
half  a  good  neal  in  the  course  of  a  month,  where  I  was  reduced 
so  low  as  .    ^ 

• to  be  tlib  sport  ofslaves, 

Or  what  more  wietched  yet,  their  pky 

I  say  fittle  did  I  think  that  I  should  revisit  that  place  in  a  state  to 
excite  the  envy  of  those  who  would  once,  have  scorned  to  let  me 


tiaST  VOTAM   TO   AFAICA.  27 

^it  in  the  same  house  with  them.  Still  less  had  1  reason  to  hope 
that,  you,  wlioin,  in  the  midst  of  my  distress,  I  passionaleJy  iowd 
would  requite  me  as  you  have  done.  With  such  a  hope,  I  could 
have  borne  all  pretty  well.  But  Prorvidence  was  mercifully  in- 
tcmi  to  make  my  situation  completely  miserable  for  a  time,  in 
•rder  to  preserve  me  from  that  utter  ruwi  itito  which  my  folly  and 
wickcduess  might  otherwise  have  plunged  me.  I  have  nothing 
now  to  ask,  but  a  disposition  to  he  thankful  to  Him,  the  author, 
aad  to  you,  the  appointed  instrument  and  mean,  of  my  recovery. 
I  can  now  look  with  pity  upon  all  tliat  the  vulgar  account  great 
attd  honourable.  I  pity  poor  kings,  as  sincerely  as  I  do  a  poor 
beggar  ;  and  consider  wit,  learning,  and  feme,  likewise,  as  mere 
trifles,  compared  with  oar  mutual  love,  which  may  it  please  God 
to  continue  ;  I  was  going  to  say  to  increase,  feut  that  is  unnecessary^ 


,  Jit  Sea,  October  19. 

This  momiiig  we  discovered  the  land  of  Guinea.  It  is  exactly 
Four  months  from  the  day  I  took  my  mournful  leave  of  you.  1 
hope  my  next  post-day^s  pleasure  will  be  dated  from  my  intended 
port.  The  passage  from  England  has  not  beea  the  shortest,  but 
remarkably  pleasant  and  free  from  disaster. 

Last  night  we  were  disturbed  by  a  tornado,  triiich  I  lielieve  I 
have  told  yon  is  a  violent  squall  of  wind,  accompanied  wUkk  heavy 
■rain,  thunder,  and,  lightning.  The  darkness  of  the  night  added 
to  the  horror  of  the  scene.  But  with  proper  care,  under  the 
blessing  of  providence,  these  boisterous  visitants,  tTiou^h  veiy 
troublesome,  are  seldom  dangerous  ;  nor  do  they  often  last 
above  an  hour.  At  these  limes  my  mind  is  generally  calm,  when 
every  body,  and  every  thing,  is  in  confusion  around  me ;  which 
is  in  a  great  measure  owing  to  my  sense  of  your  love,  and  a  hope 
that  you  are  sleeping  in  safety.  If  it  please  God  to  permit  me  a 
happy  return  to  you,  a  short  interval  will  fully  recompense  me  for 
the  inconveniences  of  a  whole  voyage;  and  all  the  rest  will 4»e 
clear  again. 

If  I  do  but  win  your  acknowledgment,  that  I  am  not  guilty  of 
ibe  stupid  ingratitude  too  common  with  manj'  of  my  sex,  who  un- 
dervalue their  most  desired  blessings,  merely  t)ecause  they  are 
possessed  of  them  ;  but  that  my  regard  and  behaviour,  since  our 
marriage,  has  been  anwerable  to  the  professions  I  made  before^ 
hand — ^I  say,  if  yon  believe  this,  I  shall  think  nothing  hard  or 
troublesome,  that  may  confirm  your  good  opinion  of  me,  which  I 
certainly  prefer  in  itself,  to  a^il  its  pleasing  consequences ;  for  I«m 
^disinterestedly  Yours,  &c. 


Sierra  LeonCy  Otiobttf  ATov'embef. 

We  arrived  here  the  24  th  of  October ;  a  harry  of  business  bat 
forced  me  to  pass  ten  days  without  writing  to  you. 

Though  this  country  is  not  England,  it  do<$  nearly  as  well  for 
toe  in  your  absence ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  if  you  could  live 
here  with  me,  without  inconvenience  to  yourself,  the  gloomy 
mountains  and  forests  of  Sierra  Leone  would  be  to  me  as  a  Blen- 
Jieim,  They  who  pity  me  because  1  am  not  fond  of  what  thef 
call  pleasure,  know  not  the  motives  which  render  me  superior  to 
it.  I  was  once  no  less  eager  after  their  pleasures  than  they  are 
now.  But  you  ha^e  so  refined  my  taste  isince,  that  nothing  short 
of  yourself  can  thoroughly  please  me*  As  it  is  midnight,  1  only 
add  my  prayers  for  your  peaceful  repose. 


Sierra  L^one^  November  8. 

t  HAVE  enclosed  yoO,  under  another  cover,  two  sheets  of  the 
largest  paper^  full  on  all  sides,  containing  near  four  hundred 
lines ;  and  1  have  as  much  more  ready  to  send  by  the  next  op* 
portunity.  If  it  please  God  to  continue  my  health  and  welfare,, 
my  stock  will  be  still  increasing,  for  1  generally  devote  some  time, 
twice  a  i^eek  at  least,  for  writing  to  you<  But,  for  fear  any 
thing  should  prevent  my  packet  from  reaching  you,  t  commit 
these  few  lines  to  the  care  of  Mr.  M**^*. 

I  think,  were  I  allowed  two  wishes  short  of  the  happiness  of 
beii^  i^ith  you,  the  first  should  be,  that  you  might  have  early 
in^rmation  that  I  am  well  ;  and  the  second,  that  I  might  have  a 
letter  from  you,  informing  me  that  yon  were  well,  and  easy,  whei> 
you  wrote.     I  do  not  impose  upon  you  by  saying  that  I  prefer 

ifour  peace  to  my  own.  1  would  do  or  suffer  much  to  obtains 
etter  from  you  ;  and  then  resign  it,  unopened,  rather  than  miss 
one  opportunity  of  writing  to  you.  If  I  am  favoured  with  any 
good  quality,  I  think  it  is  a  grateful  temper,  which  makes  roe 
glad  to  acknowledge  and  return  the  smallest  favour  I  receive^ 
even  firom  an  indifierent  person.  Judge,  then,  what  an  effect  the 
many  endearing  obligations  I  am  under  to  you,  heightened  by 
the  ardeiicv  of  my  affection,  must  have  upon  me  !  It  is  upon  this 
principle  that  I  not  only  submit  to  the  scenes  in  which  I  am  now 
engaged,  with parfencc,  but  embrace  them  with  cheerfulness.  Had 
I  been  able  to  live  always  with  you,  I  think  I  should  not  have 
loved  you  less  ;  but  it  would  not  have  been  in  my  power  to  show 
it  so  much.  But  I  hope,  now  you  find  that,  for  your  sake,  I  can 
take  pleasure  in  my  very  pain^  you  will  do  me  the  justice  to  be- 


HttST   tO^AGfi   TO  AtHICA.  $9 

tieve,  that  the  confidence  you  have  reposed  in  me  has  not  been 
misplaced.  I  coimneDd  you,  upon  my  knees,  to  the  blessing  and 
protection  of  God. 


Bananas,  November  21. 
^  Sfircs  I  came  hither,  I  have  been  croiung  about  in  the  boat  in 
quest  of  trade,  without  one  leisure  evening  for  writing  to  you, 
which  has  been  my  chief  inconvenience.  For  the  vicissitudes  of 
winds  and  weather,  the  scorching  days  and  damp  foggy  nights, 
are  to  me  but  mere  trifles.  1  have  lately  had  a  visit  from  my 
quandam  black  mistress,  P.  I.  [those  two  letters  pronounced  dis^ 
tinctly,  and  not  in  one  syllable,  as  Pi,  exactly  sound  her  name, j 
with  whom  I  lived  at  the  Plantanes.  I  treated  her  with  the  great- 
est complaisance  and  kindness  ;  and  if  she  has  any  shame  in  her, 
I  believe  I  made  her  sorry  for  her  former  ill  treatment  of  me.  I 
have  had  several  such  occasions  of  taking  the  noblest  kind  of 
revenge  upon  persons  who  once  despised  and  used  me  ill.  In*' 
deed  I  have  no  reason  to  be  angry  with  them  ;  they  were,  what 
they  little  intended,  instrumental  to  my  good.  If  my  situation, 
at  that  time,  had  been  more  favourable,  1  should  probably  have 
missed  you.  I  may  say,  with  an  old  Grecian,  if  I  had  not  beed 
mined,  I  should  have  been  ruined  indeed  ! 


Jit  Sea,  December  3. 

Though  this  is  not  my  post-night,  1  am  willing  to  write,  be« 
cause  I  am  behindhand,  and  because  it  is  the  most  pleasant  way 
of  filling  up  a  leisure  hour.  It  was  not  inclination,  but  businesiSf 
that  made  me  limit  myself  to  twice  a  week,  for  it  would  be  an 
agreeable  employment  to  write  to  yon  twice  a  day,  if  I  had  no-' 
thing  to  call  me  ofi*.  But,  however  my  hands  and  head  are  enga- 
ged, my  heart  is  always  with  you.  It  can  be  but  seldom,  if  at 
all,  that  you  are  out  of  my  thoughts  for  five  minutes  together. 
Whether  I  am  visiting,  trading,  or  watching,  your  idea  is  still 
before  my  eyes. 

1  would  give  something  for*  such  a  sympathetic  needle  and 
dial-plate  as  is  mentioned  in  the  Spectator,  that  we  might  be  able 
to  correspond  without  being  interrupted  by  distance.  B«t  per- 
haps I  am  better  without  it,  for  I  should  hardly  attend  to  any 
thing  else.  And  we  already  have  what  is  more  valuable,  a  sym- 
pathy of  mind  and  afiection.  I  believe,  if  we  conid  compare 
notes,  we  should  find  that  our  thoughts  are  often  engaged  in  the 
«ame  manner,  at  the  same  time« 


80  ^TTE&S  TO  A  WIFJS. 


Skebar^  October  14. 

I  SUPPOSE  you  have  often  observed,  for  I  have,  (and,  to  my 
credit  be  it  spoken,  we  think  pretty  much  alike,)  that  what  we 
very  much  hope  for,  or  fear,  more  seldom  happens  than  such 
things  as  are  quite  out  of  our  thoughts,  and  beyond  our  prevention. 
An  instance  of  this  lately,  I  shall  mention,  by  way  of  change^ 
of  subject.     I  went  on  shore  at  this  place  lately  on   accond|p 
of  trade  ;  and  the  next  morning,  walking  by  the  sea-side  to  look 
for  the  ship,  she  could  not  he  seen.     Upon  this  1  sent  off  a  boat, 
which  returned  in  the  evening,  and  brought  roe  word  that  they  . 
bad  been  some  leagues  beyond  the  place  where  I  left  her,  bdt 
could  discern  nothing  of  her.     I  leave  you  to  judge  of  my  anx- 
iety.    I  could  not  account  for  it,  the  weather  being  perfectly 
fine,  and  we  had  too  few  slaves  on  board  to  cause  any  distur*  , 
bance. 

For  once,  and  for  a  few  minutes,  I  almost  wished  myself  un-^ 
married ;  for  the  most  sensible  part  of  my  trouble  was,  that, 
whatever  difficulties  I  may  meet  with,  I  cannot  now  suffer  aloue«. 
I  was  at  length,  in  some  degree,  relieved  by  the  dependence 
w*hich  I  always  endeavour  to  maintain  upon  the  good  Providence 
which  has  done  so  much  for  me  hitherto. 

1  put  to  sea  with  two  boats  which  I  had  with  roe,  and  after 
-sailing  some  hours,  discovered  the  ship,  when  I  was  upon  the 
point  of  giving  up  all  hope  of  ever  seeing  her  again.  I  soon 
reached  her,  and  found  all  ^ell  on  board.  The  night  I  left  her, 
had  been  dark  and  hazy  :  she  had  dragged  her  anchor  and  had 
slipped  to  sea,  and  was  carried  a  good  way  by  the  current,  un- 
perceived  by  the  watch  upon  deck,  who  doubtless  had  been  care- 
less, and  perhaps  asleep.  I  brought  her  safely  back  again  yos^ 
terday.  So  that  this  adventure  was  only  to  caution  me,  and  to 
teach  me  never  to  think  myself  quite  secure. 


Shebar,  December. ^\. 
Mt  Dearest, 

Must  I  imitate  tlic  news-writers  ?  They,  in  a  scarcity  of  for- 
eign news,  rather  than  fall  short  of  their  usual  number  of  para- 
graphs, entertain  their  readers  with  relations  of  strange  monsters, 
apparitions,  wonderful  sights  in  the  air,  or  terrible  noises  under 
ground.  For  they  take  news^  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word,  to 
signify  any  thing  that  has  not  been  heard  of  before,  whether  true 
or  false* 

Most  of  my  letters  to  you  ixmind  me  of  ^sop^s  feast,  which* 


FIRST    VOTAOS    TO  APftlCA.  31 

ihough  consisting  of  several  dishes,  were  all  tongues,  only  dressed 
in  different  ways.  Thus,  whether  I  write  in  a  grave  or  a  jocular 
strain,  the  subject  is  still  love,  love  ;  which  is  as  inseparabte  from. 
my  idea  of  you,  as  heat  from  that  of  fire. 


Cape  Mtmnif  December  31. 
I  SENT  yon  from  Sierra  Leone  two  sheets,  like  the  two  I  now. 
enclose,  and  I  have  two  more  in  readiness  for  the  next  ship,  and 
shall  think  myself  happy,  if  I  can  employ  my  leisure  to  afford  yoil 
any*  entertainment.  I  am  apt  to  grieve  at  the  probability  of  my 
voyage  provmg  longer  than  1  expected  ;  but  I  am  soon  checked 
by  considering  how  much  cause  1  have  for  thankfulness.  For  I 
am  in  perfect  health,  and  have  met  with  no  harm  or  disappoint- 
ment hitherto.  I  am  informed  there  is  a  ship  upon  the  coast  which 
has  letters  for  me ;  I  hope  to  be  with  her  in  a  few  days.  My  niind 
revives  at  the  expectation ;  for  then  I  shall  be  able  to  boast  of  a 
real  pleasure  in  your  absence,  besides  that  which  I  find  in  writing 
to  you.  It  is  now  the  last  night,  and  almost  the  last  minute  of  the 
year,  being  very  near  twelve  o^clock.  How  can  1  cohclucje  the 
year  better  than  by  writing  to  you,  and  praying  to  the  Lord  to 
bless  you,  and  to  spare  me  a  little  longer  to  love  and  deserve  vow. 
and  to  be  happy  with  you  ? 


1751. 


Rio  Junque,  January  ^. 

J  WAS  prevented  writing  on  Friday  by  a  violent  pain  in  my 
head,  which  was  perhaps  partly  occasioned  by  not  receiving  a 
letter  from  you*  I  have  one  from  ilr.  M***,  dated  October  24. 
He  promised  to  let  you  know  when  he  intended  to  write,  but  f 
would  hope,  for  my  own  peace,  he  neglected  it.  For  I  am  sure 
you  woula  not  miss  the  opportunity,  if  you  were  able  to  hold  a 
pen.  I  must  now  wait  till  I  airive  at  Antigua.  Then  I  hope  to 
oe  ratified. 

When  I  meet  with  any  thing  cross,  or  contrary  to  my  wish,  ! 
dare  not  now  complain ;  because  in  gaining  you  I  secured  the 
principal  aim  of  my  life :  a  real  good,  which,  if  set  in  opposition 
to  the  little  disappointments  I  meet  with  from  without,  outweigh? 
them  all.  Nor  need  I  envy  others  their  wealth  or  prosperity, 
when  it  is  a  thousand  to  one  if  any  of  them  have  such  a  dear M*"*^ 
as  I  can  call  my  own.  I  should  therefore  be  sorrj^  to  change  with 
the  very  best  of  them,  in  all  points ;  or  to  part  with  a  small  por- 
tion of  your  regard  for  any  worldly  constderation. 


34  lETTERS . TO   A  WIFE* 

promised  satisfaction  of  a  happy  meeting,  are  tmics  which  he 
dwells  upon  with  equal  elegance  and  passion.  Having  said  so 
much  of  Pliny,  I  must  add  in  my  own  behalf,  that  I  love  as  well 
as  he  did,  though  T  cannot  express  myself  so  well ;  but  for  plain, 
downright  affection  and  gratitude,  I  would  not  yield  to  the  best 
Pliny  that  ever  wore  a  head. 


Shebavj  March  5. 

It  was  an  expression  of  Cato,  that  it  was  more  honourable  to 
be  a  good  husband,  than  a  ^reat  senator.  The  point  of  honour 
seems  to  have  varied  since  his  lime.  We  now  find  too  many  who 
value  themselves  upon  a  contrary  character,  and  yet  are  not  the 
worse  received  in  company,  not  even  by  those  of  your  sex;  who, 
I  think,  both  in  justice  and  compassion,  should  unite  in  despising 
the  man  who  dares  to  use  a  deserving  woman  ill,  because  he  has 
not  a  heart  to  value  her. 

But  had  Cato  said,  there  was  more  profit  and  comfort  in  being 
a  good  husband  than  in  being  an  unmarried  emperor,  he  would 
have  said  but  the  truth.  And  however  fashionable  it  might  be- 
come to  dispute  or  contradict  this  maxim,  there  would  always  be 
a  fiaivoured  few,  who  would  not  be  disputed  or  laughed  out  of  their 
experience.  And  it  is  only  by  experience  it  can  be  known.  We 
need  not  wonder,  therefore,  it  a  married  life  is  thought  lightly  of 
by  those  who  judge  of  it  only  by  hearsay.  For  a  man  might  as 
well  pretend  to  paint  a  sound,  as  to  describe  the  various  sensibilt* 
ties  connected  with  a  happy  marriage,  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
make  a  stranger  understand  them. 


Shebar,  March  22. 
A  DESYRE  of  rendering  myself  agreeable  to  you  has  long  been  a 
motive  of  my  conduct.  This  I  may  well  style  my  ruling  passion, 
I  was  changeable  as  the  weather  till  my  regard  for  you  meed  me, 
and  collected  all  my  ahns  to  the  single  point  of  gaining  you.  Then 
0iy  faculties,  which  before  were  remiss,  were  roused,  and  indo-  " 
lence  gave  way  to  application.  It  has  been  observed,  that  those 
who  have  wearied  themselves  in  vainly  searching  after  the  philos- 
opher's stone,  have  often  found  out  useful  things  which  they  had 
no  thought  of  seeing.  So  I,  in  the  pursuit  of  the  methods  by 
which  I  hoped  to  influence  you,  obtained,  unawares,  advantages  of 
another  kind.  The  desire  of  pleasing  you,  insensibly  made  me 
more  acceptable  to  others.  In  one  essential  respect,  the  compar- 
wm  hapfMiy  fails*    These  phHosophera  were  poorly  re wardlea  for 


FIRST  VOVAOS  TO  AFBICA.  §$ 

their  trouble  by  their  petty  didcoverteS)  ithild  their  ^dpttl  oIh 
ject  was  still  unattained.  Whereas  I  not  only  found  the  Wi$dfu 
leading  to  my  chief  desire  pleasant  and  profitable,  but  in  due  tiow 
completely  gained  my  end.  I  long  for  the  opportunity  of  thaa^ng 
you  again  and  again- 


Shebar,  March  29. 

Thb  Spectator  tells  us,  that  Socrates,  in  discoursing  upon  nar- 
riage,  placed  it  in  such  an  advantageous  light,  that  he  inouced  ail 
his  auditors  to  marry  as  fast  as  possible.  And  yet  it  seems  k« 
was,  at  that  time,  himself  wedded  to  a  noted  shrew :  so  that  h» 
could  hardly  draw  many  persuasive  arguments  from  his  own  ex«> 
perience.  Surely,  had  he  been  matched  like  me,  he  would  have 
spoken  with  still  greater  emphasis.  Methinks,  if  I  had  his  elo- 
quence, I  could  delight  to  speak  on  this  subject  from  morning  td 
night,  I  could  tell  the  foolish  world  how  strangely  they  wander 
from  the  path  of  happiness,  while  they  seek  that  satisfaction  in 
luxury^  wealth,  or  ambition,  which  nothing  but  mutual  love  can 
aflbrd.  « 

I  give  and  take  a  good  deal  of  raillery  among  the  sea  captains 
I  meet  with  here.  They  think  I  have  not  a  right  notion  of  Kfe, 
and  I  am  sure  they  have  not.  They  say  I  am  melancholy;  I  tell 
Ihem  they*  are  mad.  They  say,  I  am  a  slave  to  one  woman,  Which 
t  deny ;  but  can  pmve  that  some  of  them  are  mere  slaveir  to  a 
hundred.  They  wonder  at  my  humour ;  I  pity  thdrs.  They  catt 
form  no  idea  of  my  happiness ;  I  answer,  I  think  the  better  of  if 
on  that  account;  for  I  should  be  ashamed  of  it  if  it  was  suited  to 
the  level  of  those  who  can  be  pleased  with  a  drunken  defoavch,  or 
the  smile  of  a  prostitute.  We  shall  hardly  come  to  an  agreement 
on  these  points;  for  they  pretend  to  appeal  to  experience  agaiBSt^ 
me.  Just  so  some  of  the  poor  objects  in  Bedlam,  white  raving  in 
straw  and  dirt,  mistake  their  chains  for  ornaments  of  gold,  anncmmte 
themselves  to  be  kings  or  lords,  and  are  firmly  persuaded  that  dv* 
ery  person  who  pities  them  is  out  of  his  wits. 


Rio  Si.  PauPs,  AfrU  17. 
Mat  yoa  always  feel  a  satisfaction  eqiial  to  that  which  the  re^ 
ceiptof  your  ^wo  dear  letters  last  night  gave  me,  and  I  need  wish 
j^u  oolhiog  furthef  till  we  happily  meet.  Could  any  thing  en* 
hanee  the  value  of  such  marks  of  your  aflectioa,  it  would  be  h^ 
receiving  them  so  unexpectedly.  For  I  had  long  given  them 
over  for  lost,  or  worse  than  lost,  exposed  to  the  ill-br^d  cwriostty 


36  LETTKBS   TO    ▲  WIVK. 

of  some  sea-bear,  who,  incapable  of  understandiagy  much  more  of 
valuing,  your  delicacy,  might  have  insulted  them  by  some  shock- 
ing jest,  to  the  diversion  of  his  brother  animals,  over  a  can  of  nas- 
ty flip.  Do  not  think  1  extend  the  direction  of  Divine  Providence 
too  minutely,  if  1  suppose  there  was  something  remarkable  in  my 
getting  them  at  last,  (for  they  have  been  transferred  to  six  or 
seven  different  vessels  successively.)  They  are  of  great  import- 
ance to  me  :  they  could  not  have  arrived  at  a  more  seasonable 
juncture  to  revive  my  spirits,  which  are  sometimes  a  little  flagged 
by  the  tediousness  and  difficulties  of  the  voyage.  I  thank  God 
that  I  possess  them  safe,  and  have  the  pleasure  to  6nd  the  wax 
whole,  as  it  came  from  under  your  seal.  I  could  almost  hug  eve- 
ry dirty  fellow  through  whose  hands  they  have  passed,  for  taking 
such  care  of  them.  It  will  employ  me  agreeably  for  some  days 
to  answer  them  periodically,  if  you  will  allow  the  wor^  in  that 
Sense — I  mean,  ip  comment  upon  every  period. 


Rio  St.  Pff«Z'»,  April  19. 
You  wonder  that  such  a  smart  girl  as  Miss  H****  should  throw 
herself  away  upon  an  unsuitable  husband.  But  are  you  sure  that 
your  own  judgment  has  not  been  often  called  in  question  upon 
this  head  i  It  would  ill  become  me  to  blame  her  for  matching  at 
an  apparent  disparity,  because  to  such  a  partiality  in  your  con- 
duct I  owe  my  happiness.  And  though,  upon  comparison,  I 
should  prove  a  little  more  tolerable  than  he,  yet  you  are  so  much 
superior  to  her,  as  still  to  leave  a  proportionate  difference  between 
us.  I  believe  the  motives  which  induced  you  to  give  me  your  hand, 
are  not  understood  by  at  least  one  half  of  our  acquaintance. 
How  often  must  they  have  said,  '^  What,  the  accomplished,  easy, 
polite  Miss  C****  married  to  that  cwkward  piece  of  formalit}^ 
whose  ridiculous  behaviour  was  for  years  a  standing  jest  amongst 
us !  Strange  !" — but  I  could  tell  them  that  you  yourself,  with  all 
your  ease  and  politeness^  were  alloyed  with  a  quality  almost  as 
singular  and  unfashionable  as  any  of  mine ;  I  mean  an  artless 
generosity  of  mind,  upon  the  knowledge  of  which  I  raised  my  first 
wishes,  and  to  which  I  am  indebted  for  their  completion.  My 
love  to  you  occasioned  my  troubles,  my  troubles  inspired  you  with 
compassion,  that  compassion  encouraged  me  to  perseverance, 
which  long  persevered  in,  induced  first  your  good  opinion,  then 
your  good-will,  and  thus,  by  pleasing  gradations,  I  reached  the 
happy  summit  of  my  wishes.  That  I  may  be  always  worthy  of 
my  privilege,  and  that  you  may  be  no  looser  by  my  gain,  is  my 
constant  and  earnest  prayer ! 


VIRST  TOrAGS  TO  AFBIGA.  37 


Rio  St.  PauVs,  April  30. 
Now  for  a  word  of  condolence  on  the  catastrophe  of  poor  Fan- 
cy. I  am  really  sorry,  having  a  complacence  for  every  thing  that 
has,  in  any  degree,  the  merit  of  pleasing  you.  Besides,  he  was 
so  good-natured,  and  bad  a  fidelity  and  assiduity  which  might 
shame  many  who  walk  upon  two  legs.  Bat  when  I  recollect  his 
manner  of  life,  I  must,  notwithstanding  his  ppetnature  death,  pro- 
nounce him  to  have  beeO  a  happy  dog.  White  many  poor  pup- 
pies have  wandered  forlorn  in  the  streets,  exposed  to  the  gripe  of 
the  batcher's  surly  mastiff,  the  kick  of  the  weary  and  peevish  travel- 
ler, or  of  the  more  heavy  iron-hoofed  horse,  and  many  similar  ca- 
lamities, highly  favoured  Fancy  was  brought  up  within  doors,  in 
peace  and  plenty,  and,  to  say  all  in  a  word,  indulged  with  your 
smiles  and  caresses.  While  I — what  would  I  give  to  be  so  ca- 
ressed and  smiled  upon  !  If  after  all  this  he  came  to  a  violent  end, 
many  of  the  greatest  heroes  have  been  served  so  before  him.  So 
the  mighty  Caesar,  after  all  his  honours  and  success,  was  seized 
by  mad  dogs,  (that  were  fawning  upon  him  a  little  before,)  who 
bit  him  (as  we  are  told)  in  three-and-lwenty  places,  till  he  died. 
Csesar  and  Fancy  equally  afford  a  proof,  that  no  sitaation  in  life  is 
perfectly  secure.     But  enough  of  trifling. 


Mana^  May  3. 
You  know  the  grove  where  we  have  sometimes  walked  togeth- 
er ;  but  where  I  more  frequently  passed  many  hours  by  myself. 
I  call  that  grove  my  chapel,  and  my  study.  There  I  have  offered 
many  prayers  for  your  welfare.  There  1  have  formed  plans  for 
my  fmure  conduct,  and  considered  in  what  manner  I  might  best 
deserve  and  return  your  love.  There  is  not  a  tree  in  the  whole 
walk,  but,  if  it  could  speak,  and  would  speak  truth,  might  bear 
testimony  to  my  regard  for  you.  For  1  believe  you  know  that  it 
is  my  frequent  custom  to  vent  my  thoughts  aloud,  when  I  am  sure 
that  no  one  is  within  hearing.  1  have  had  many  a  tender  solilo- 
quy in  that  grove  concerning  you,  and,  in  the  height  of  my  enthu- 
siasm, have  often  repeated  your  dear  name,  merely  to  hear  it  re- 
turned by  the  echo.  These  and  mmiy  other  harmless  things, 
which  the  insensible  and  the  mercenary  would  term  fooleries,  I 
have  done  ;  and  that  not  only  when  a  desponding  lover,  but  when 
a  happy  one.  I  am  so  far  from  being  influenced  by  that  detesta- 
ble maxim.  Possession  quenches  love ! — ^that  I  can  hardly  allow 
my  afllection  for  you  before  marriage  the  same  name  which  I 
would  express  (if  I  could)  what  I  now  feel. 


38  LSTTBRS  TO  A  WITE. 


Cape  Mounty  May  7. 
I  HAVB  beea  tbrougb  fire  and  water  for  yon  tfl^ajr.  Tbat  in 
to  say,  1  was  exposed  for  8one  hours  to  a  oBore  ftcorchiog  8«a 
than  you  can  conceive  of;  and  then  cooled,  when  I  landed,  by 
the  surf,  oririolent  snrges  of  the  sea  breaking  npon  the  sbore.  f 
charge  all  my  fatigue  to  your  accoant,  because  you*  only  are  able 
to  pay  me  for  it ;  «nd  for  your  sake  it  is  all  welcome.  I  an 
now  warm  with  the  hope  of  quitting  this  troubl^ome  coast  in  a 
few  days. 


Shebarj  May  14. 
Mr  last  broke  off  abruptly.  I  was  ill,  and  disconcerted  by  an 
inddertt  in  business,  which  might  have  had  bad  consequences^ 
But  I  am  well  again,  and  all  is  to  rights.  A  happy  restoration 
to  you  is  the  principal  end  I  propose,  and  if  I  attain  it,  I  am  not 
very  solicitous  whether  my  passage  homewards  be  long  or  short, 
pleasant  or  otherwise,  so  that  our  meeting  be  safe  and  happy  at 
last.  The  scenes  of  Ufe  I  have  passed  through  have  taught  me  a 
degree  oLpatience  and  thankfufaiess,  which  support  me  under  or- 
dinary tfCibles  ;  and  I  hope  the  God  in  whom  I  desire  to  trust, 
will  preserve  me  from  very  heavy  ones.  I  seem  persuaded  that 
he  who  has  done  so  much  for  me,  will,  at  a  proper  time,  do  more, 
if  I  do  not  put  hindrances  in  my  own  way  by  impatience  and  un- 
thankful complaints.  In  the  mean  time  my  assurance  of  your 
love  is  my  constant  support  and  feast.  I  must  not  expect  to  slide 
through  life  without  meeting  any  ^ubs.  If  it  would  please  God,  I 
could  wish  to  bear  all  my  pains  by  myself,  and  to  enjoy  all  my 
real  pleasures  with  you. 


ShehoTyMay  17. 
THonoir  in  this  country  there  is  no  winter,  properly  speaking, 
the  different  parts  of  the  year  are  no  less  different  than  in  Eng^ 
land.  For  about  seven  months  the  weather  is  remarkably  fair, 
with  light  winds,  and  seldom  a  threatening  cloud  to  be  seen.  In 
the  remaining  five,  we  havweitber  incessant  heavy  rains,  or  sud- 
den storms  of  wind,  with  violent  thunder  and  rain.  This  uncom- 
fortable season  is  now  commencing,  but  1  hope  we  shall  not  suffer 
much  by  it,  as  I  expect  to  sail,  and  change  my  climate  in  a  few 
days.  I  only  mention  it  as  an  excuse  for  any  fouks  in  my  letters, 
which  I  would  have  you  impute  to  my  situation,  which  I  leave  yon 


rmrr  votaqb  to  afmca.  <39  « 

to  gness  ftt  as  well  as  700  can. "  Two  bondred  people  confined  in 
a  small  vessel,  in  bad  weather,  occasion  noise,  dirt,  and  trouble 
enough.  Besides  the  common  business  and  care  incident  to  other 
ships,  we  have  a  large  number  of  slaves,  that  must  be  attended, 
Ibd,  cleaned,  and  guarded  agamst,  let  what  will  stand  still.  When 
I  compare  a  day  passed  in  this,  manner,  with  one  of  the  happy 
days  I  have  known  with  you,  I  can  scarcely  imagine  a  greater  con- 
trust.  But  when  I  torn  my  thoughu  forward,  and  indulge  the 
hope  of  being  restored  to  yon  again,  that  prospect  reconciles  me 
to  all  that  is  before  me. 


At  Sea,  May  24. 
At  length,  my  dearest  M***,  I  have  lost  sight  of  Africa,  and 
bave  been  three  days  on  my  passage  towards  Antigua.  Innume- 
rable dangers  and  difficulties,  which,  without  a  superior  protec- 
tion, no  man  coold  escape  or  surmouot,  are,  by  the  goodness  of 
God,  happily  over.  I  now  think  myself  every  hour  drawing 
nearer  to  you ;  or,  (which  is  the  next  comfort  to  it  of  which  I  am 
capable,)  to  the  receipt  of  more  letters  from  you,  to  confirm  my 
prayers  for  your  welfare,  and  for  the  continuance  of  your  love. 
Of  the  latter  I  cannot  doubt  for  a  moment.  I  think  myself  as  un- 
alterably fixed  in  your  aflection,  as  I  feel  you  are  in  mine.  This 
persuasion,  so  needful  to  my  happiness,  is  riveted  in  my  heart,  and 
I  would  not  part  with  it  for  mines  of  gold.  Yet  there  is  some- 
thing inexpressibly  engaging  to  read  the  tender  acknowledgment 
under  your  own  dear  hand.  You  will  quite  spoil  me  for  a  tetter- 
writer.  The  great  beauty  of  an  epistolary  style  is  conciseness ; 
I  seem  rather  to  study  circumlocution,  when  writing  to  you,  that 
1  may  make  some  aidbnds  in  quantity,  for  what  I  fall  short  in  the 
quality  of  my  letters,  if  compared  with  yours.  It  is  now  ten  in 
the  evening.  I  am  going  to  walk  the  deck  and  think  of  you  ; 
and,  according  to  my  constant  custom,  to  recommend  you  to  the 
care  and  protection  of  God. 


At  5ea,  June  27. 
Sometimes  my  letters  resemble  the  course  of  a  hare.  I  di- 
gress from  one  thing  to  another,  till  I  make  a  fair  round,  and  re- 
torn  to  the  subject  from  which  1  began.  At  other  times,  like  the 
Ibx,  I  lead  you  a  chase  right  out,  leap  over  all  the  bounds  of  ^go- 
larity,  and  you  cannot  guess,  by  the  manner  of  my  setting  off, 
wU^r  or  bow  far  I  may  lead  yon ;  aor  coo  I  tell  myself;  but 


«40  LETTERS  TO  A  VflYX, 

fear  I  tire  you  to  keep  pace  with  my  rambles.  But  if,  upon  tiie 
whole,  you  are  pleased  or  amused,  my  end  is  answered.  In  this 
my  desultory  way,  I  am  almost  at  the  bottom  of  my  twelfth  large 
sheet,  and  am  now  expecting  to  see  Antigua  every  minute,  where 
I  hope  to  be  furnished  with  new  materials.  I  had  but  tw9  oppor- 
tunities of  writing  from  the  coast,  and  shall  therefore  carry  eight 
sheets  with  me,  which  1  shall  disperse  homeward  as  fast  as  I  can, 
as  occasions  offer,  for  my  justification,  lest  you  should  in  some 
anxious  moment  suspect  roe  of  negligence.  Though  I  rather  be- 
lieve you  are  disposed  to  judge  favourably  of  me,  even  if  appear- 
ances should  be  against  me.  Indeed  your  idea  is  constantly 
with  me,  and  I  hope  in  due  time  1  shall  prove  the  reverse  of 
iEsop^s  dog,  and,  by  long  gaping  after  the  shadow,  come  at  length 
to  repossess  the  substance.  Eager  as  I  am  for  the  receipt  of 
your  expected  letters,  my  heart  goes  often  pit-^-pat,  lest  I  should 
hear  that  you  have  been  ill  or  uneasy.  But  I  check  my  fears  by 
considering  that  I  have  committed  you  to  Him  who  is  able  to  take 
better  care  of  you  than  I  could,  if  I  was  present  with  you.  To 
Him  I  again  recommend  you,  praying  that  we  may  at  length  be 
restored  to  each  other,  and  that  I  may  always  prove  worthy  of 
your  affection. 


'         Antiguay  July  4. 

As  I  have  been  for  three  nights  almost  sleepless,  I  can  hardly 
keep  my  eyes  open,  not  even  to  write  to  you.  But  I  have  been 
long  providing  against  busy  times,  and  now  enclose  you  three 
sheets  as  a  specimen  ;  and  have  six  more  ready  to  send,  as  ships 
may  offer.  The  business  of  this  is  chiefly  to  acquaint  you,  that  I 
arrived  here  in  safety  yesterday,  and  have  deceived  your  several 
favours  of  the  20th  of  December,  11th  of  January;  and  2d  of 
April.  That  which  you  mention  to  have  written  in  October  has 
Not  come  to  hand.  But  my  joy  for  those  received  has  been  so 
great,  that  I  have  not  been  at  leisure  sufficiently  to  regret  the  one 
which  is  lost.  Had  not  the  news  of  my  dear  father's  death  been 
accompanied  by  these  confirmations  of  your  health,  and  your  af- 
fection to  me,  I  should  have  felt  it  more  heavily,  for  I  loved  and 
revered  him.  But  enough  of  this.  My  tears  drop  upon  the 
paper.  '^ 

Tell  me,  my  dearest,  if  you  can  how  two  opposite  passions 
find  room  for  exercise  in  my  breast  at  the  same  time  f  I  rejoice 
greatly  in  the  consciousness  of  your  love,  and  I  sorrow  greatly 
for  n>y  father's  death.  These  diflerent  emotions  seem  not  to  inter- 
fere.    But  I  have  now  given  vent  to  my  grief  and  shall  not  in- 


FiaST  VOYAGE  TO  AFRICA.  41 

dulge  it.  Religion,  which  is  the  best  philosophy,  has,  I  hope, 
prepared  nie,  in  a  measure,  for  every  event ;  at  least,  for  all  hot 
one ;  that  one,  iudeed,  I  cannot  think  of  without  treml^ling. 


Antigua^  July  5. 

Yov  caution  ine  to  be  careful  of  my  own  life  for  your  sake, 
which  is  indeed  the  most  engaging  argument  you  can  assign;  for 
I  know  nothing  but  yourself  that  makes  a  continuance  ^thisKfe 
very  desirable  unless  as  it  is  a  state  of  improvement  for*  belter* 
But,  if  I  durst,  I  should  a  little  blame  the  strength  of  your  ei|>ra0- 
sions  upon  the  point.  God  only  knows  which  of  us  must  depart 
first ;  but  it  is  probable,  one  must  survive  the  knowledge  of  tbf 
other's  death.  If  it  should  be  my  lot,  1  cannot  tell  bow  I  shouM 
be  able  to  bear  it  ;  but  I  would  wish  our  love  to  be  so  regulated^ 
that  neither  of  us  should  be  rendered  miserable  by  a  separlttiott  ; 
but  rather  be  supported  by  a  well-grounded  hope,  that  a  few  more 
rolling  years  would  re-unite  us  never  more  to  part  In  a  world 
liable  to  such  unexpected  and  unavoidable  changes,  there  is  no 
probability  of  being  happy,  even  in  the  enjoyment  of  our  own 
wishes,  unless  we  hold  them  in  subordination  to  the  will  and  Wtf- 
dom  of  God,  who  is  the  author  and  giver  of  every  blessing. 

Your  last  letter  is  the  best,  because  the  longest,  and  beeanse 
you  seem  to  have  written  it  when  you  were  tolerably  easy,  and  tX 
peace  in  your  mind.  If  this  was  in  any  measure  owing  to  bear- 
ing from  me,  I  hope  you  will  be  peaceful  for  the  remainder  of  iht 
voyage,  for  I  expect  frcqnent  opportunities  of  \l^riting,  and  I  am 
not  likely  to  let  one  of  them  slip. 


Antigua^  July  9« 
This  is  my  fourth  letter  in  five  days.  I  write  by  every 
ship,  that  you  may  have  the  most  early  information  possible  of 
my  arrival  and  welfare,  to  relieve  the  anxiety  which,  I  fear,  you 
must  have/elt;  and  I  now  send  the  twojast  of  the  eight  sheets  I 
brought  with  me.  Should  all  my  packets  arrive  safely,  and 
nearly  together,  your  love  must  strengthen  your  patience,  or  yoa 
will  be  wearied  by  the  perusal.  But  I  believe  you  win  recehrd 
them  with  as  much  pleasure  as  I  wrote  them.  I  cannot  more 
strongly  express  my  confidence  of  your  afieciion.  I  have,  per- 
haps, told  you  before,  that,  when  we  married,  I  had  not  deserved 
much  of  yotir  positive  love  ;  but  I  knew,  from  your  temper,  that 
I  might  be  sure  your  Ubart  was  free  from  any  odier  eagageneDt 
Vol.  IV,  6 


42  fIbst  voyage  to  africa. 

or  preference ;  aad  for' the  rest,  I  depended  on  your  generosity, 
lind  on  my  own  sincere  endeavours  to  deserve  you.  But  eveb 
this  confidence  in  myself,  and  in  you,  did  not  induce  me  to  ex^ 
pect  you  would  advance  so  fast  as  in  a  few  months  to  overtake 
me  in  the  race,  in  which  I  set  out  seven  long  years  before  you. 


Antigua^  July  23. 
l^uiylast  letter  has  the  only  additional  excellence  which  I 
could  \Mii  for  in  a  letter  from  you  ;  I  mean  the  length.  You  are 
greatly  improved  indeed.  At  the  end  of  five  years,  with  some 
difficulty,  I  di*ew  six  lines  from  you.  In  less  than  two  years  after- 
wards, I  obtained  eleven  lines  and  a  half  more.  After  marriage, 
you  stipulated  to  return  one  line  for  my  two  ;  and  though  you 
fell  something  short  of  your  agreement,  1  acquitted  you  ;  for  be- 
sides that  one  of  youp  lines  is  worth  ten  of  mine,  1  considered  that, 
at  the  time  of  articling,  yeu  could  not  foresee  that  I  should  be  so 
unreasonably  prolix  as  I  have  proved.  Could  any' one  who  knew 
Qs  both  have  imagined  that  you  should  already  imitate  me  as  far 
as  one  hundred  and  twenty  lines  ?  Yes,  any  one  who  knew  us 
both,  perhaps,  might  expect  it.  But  if  he  only  knew  me,  I  think 
he  would  not.  When  I  say  you  imitate  '  me,  I  mean  only  in  the 
length ;  for  you  leave  me  in  full  possession  of  my  tautologies,  per- 
plexities, and  repetitions.  I  have  thought  that  your  writing  so 
correctly  was,  in  some  measure  owing  to  your  brevity.  But  I 
was  mistaken.  You  have  shown  me,  that  as  you  have  the  art  of 
imprinting  your  character  and  spirit  in  three  or  four  lines,  so  you 
can,  if  you  please,  enlarge  to  as  many  hundred,  without  sinking 
below  yourself  in  a  single  expression. 

I  admire  the  delicate  turn  of  your  writing.  You  need  not  be 
careful  who  sees  your  letters;  for  though  yon  touch  upon  the 
most  interesting  subjects  in  a  manner  quite  intelligible  to  me,  a 
stranger  could  pick  little  out  of  them.  I  would  imitate  you  in 
this,  if  I  could,  while  conveyances  are  so  uncertain.  However,  I 
hopethatif  my  flights  were  exposed  to  public  view,  there  would 
be  nothing  found  but  what  tended  to  your  honour,  though,  per- 
haps, my  own  prudence  might  be  called  in  question.  I  might 
even  be  excused  by  competent  judges  but  in  the  crowd  we  call  the 
world,  what  a  mixture  of  wonder,  envy,  and  contempt,  should  I 
excite  \  How  Would  they  exclaim.  This  is  mere  cant,  bombast, 
enthusiasm  !  I  hope  most  of  my  poor  essays  to  thank  you,  have 
merit  enough  to  meet  with  such  a  reception  from  the  ignorant  and 
selfish.  Imagine  Handel  playing  one  of  his  best  pieces  to  a  par- 
cel of  gypsies,  who,  till  then,  had  only  heard  such  music  as  gyp- 


LETTERS  TO  A  WIFE.  43 

sies  are  accustomed  to  ;  would  they  not  gape  and  stare  at  h;m^ 
and  wish  that  he  had  done  tuning  his  instrument,  and  would 
give  them  something  worth  their  hearing  f  Or  if  a  clown,  who 
bad  seen  a  puppet-show,  should  go  to  the  theatre,  in  hopes  of 
something  to  make  him  laugh,  and  hear  Garrick  repeating  the 
soliloquy,  "  To  he,  or  not  to  be,"  he  would  probably  wonder  what 
the  audience  could  find  to  admire  or  applaud  in  such  dry  stufi*. 
It  grows  late  or  I  could  run  over  fifty  more  instances  of  the  read- 
iness of  people  to  despise  what  they  do  not  understand.  And 
then  I  would  endeavour  to  prove,  (I  think  it  no  difficult  task,  that 
this  folly  is  never  more  completely  absurd,  than  when  the  dull, 
or  the  cruel,  or  the  cross,  or  the  unamiable,  or  the  envious,  or 
the  selfish,  or  the  abandoned,  affect  to  undervalue  the  happiness 
of  the  marriage  state. 


Antigua^  jlugust  4. 
You  will  perceive  by  the  date,  that  this  is  one  of  the  days 
which  I  pass,  as  much  ^s  I  can,  in  retiremant  and  reflection.  My 
correspondence  with  you  falls  in  with  my  design.  1  hope  a  mu- 
tual affection  will  be  rather  a  help  than  a  hindrance  to  us  in  our 
most  important  concerns.  Not  one  of  the  many  blessings  which 
God  has  bestowed  upon  me  excites  in  me  a  more  ardent  desire  to 
be  thankful  than  that  which  he  has  given  me  in  you.  And  the 
remembrance  of  our  past  endearments  is  a  powerful  preservative, 
to  keep  me  from  low  and  unworthy  pursuits.  In  like  manner, 
nothing  reconciles  me  so  much  to  the  troubles  and  hazards  inci- 
dent to  my  situation,  as  the  thought  that  I  endure  them  for  your 
sake,  and  that  from  you  I  expect  a  recompense  answerable  to  my 
wishes.  I  hope  I  may  say  this,  without  derogating  from  those 
motives  which  ought  to  have  no  less  weight  with  me  if  you  were 
out  of  the  question.  My  meaning  is,  that  I  ought  to  be  very 
thankful  to  the  goodness  of  the  Lord,  who  has  thus  ordered  my 
duty  and  my  inclinations  to  go  hand  in  hand,  and  in  a  manner 
bribed  me  to  my  true  uiterest.  And  this  enhances  my  regard  to 
you ;  that  I  am  not  only  indebted  to  you  for  my  pleasure  here, 
but  that  yon  Will  be  a  mean  of  preparing  me  for  those  which  I 
hope  for  hereafter.  This  is  the  proper  foundation  for  abiding 
love.  A  love  like  mine  is  calculated  for  all  seasons  and  changes, 
equally  suited  to  enlarge  the  advantages  of  prosperity  beyond  the 
comprehension  of  a  stranger,  and  to  gild  the  uneasy  hours  of 
pain  and  trouble.  I  may  lose  money,  health,  liberty,  or  limbs ; 
but  while  it  pleases  God  to  preserve  my  memory,  nothing  can  rob 
jne  of  the  consciousness  that  you  are  minCf  and  that  I  am  favoured 


44  LEtfTKRS    TO    A    WIFE.  ' 

with  the  dearest  place  in  your  heart.  The  vessel  is  now  under 
saily  Bo  I  must  conclude.  I  hope  to  follow  her  soon.  Adieu,  my 
dearest !  Believe  me  to  be  almost  continually  praying  for  yon, 
and  studying  how  to  approve  myself  Yours,  6ar. 


AfSea,  August  14. 

f  AM  so  pleased  with  writing  to  you,  and  so  used  to  it,  that, 
though  I  hope  to  deliver  you, my  packet  with  my  own  hand,  I 
cannot  desist.  I  now  begin  a  book  for  your  entertainment,  and 
shall  only  mark  the  date  here  and  there,  reserving  my  bounden 
subscription  to  the  end. 

I  suppose  most  people  when  entering  the  marriage  state  prom- 
ise themselves  much  satisfaction  ;  and,  I  am  afraid,  very  many 
are  greatly  disappointed.  Why  has  it  been  otherwise  with  me  i 
How  was  it  that  at  a  time  when  I  was  mistaken  and  wrong  in 
every  other  part  of  my  conduct,  I  should  direct  my  addresses  to, 
perhaps,  the  only  one  in  the  sphere  of  my  acquaintance  who  could 
make  me  happy  i  Undoubtedly  the  band  of  God  was  in  it. 
How  wretched  must  I  have  been,  had  my  heart  been  so  closely  en- 
gaged to  a  giddy,  inconsiderate,  or  mercenary  character  !  Be- 
sides my  other  obligations,  I  must  always  consider  you  .  as  the 
principal  instrument,  employed  by  divine  Providence,  to  wean  me 
ttom  those  errors  and  evils  which  otherwise  must  have  soon  issued 
in  my  destruction.  This  will  be  a  motive  of  regard  which  will 
always  remain,  though  length  of  time  should  abate  the  force  of 
many  other  endearing  considerations  ;  and  when  life  has  nothing 
more  in  itself  desirable,  I  shall  have  reason  with  my  dying  breath, 
to  bless  God  for  the  influence  you  have  had  over  me. 

You  will  not  wonder  that  I  write  in  a  serious  strain,  when  I  tell 
you  that  I  am  sitting  by  a  person  in  his  last  agonies,  and  who, 
aniy  fiyedays  since,  was  healthy  and  florid.  This  is  my  surgeon, 
who,  by  an  obliging  behaviour  during  the  whole  voyage,  has 
gained  a  great  share  of  my  regard.  But  I  fear  he  must  go — cut 
short  in  the  vigour  of  life,  amidst  a  heap  of  amusing  purposes  and 
prospects  if  he  reached  England  ! 


August  19. 

Mt  poor  surgeon  is  gone,  and  buried  in  the  sea  ;  a  sepulchre 

ef  whicn,  while  living,  he  could  not  bear  the  thought.     But  it 

la^es  no  difbrence  to  him  now.     Besides  my  personal  regard,  I 

shall  taiss  btm  opon  your  account.     For,  from  the  time  I  knew 


riBST   TOTAGX    TO   AFRICA.  45 

him  so  well  as  to  judge  bim  worthy  of  the  subject,  I  have  ofien 
found  some  relief  by  venting  my  mind  to  him  in  talking  about 
you.  I  have  none  with  me  now  but  mere  sailors,  to  whom  I 
should  degrade  your  name  if  I  mentioned  it,  and  shall  therefore 
keep  my  pleasures  and  my  pains  to  myself.  Yet  now  and  then, 
when  I  am  sure  I  am  not  overheard,  I  breath  out  your  name, 
'*  My  dearest  M***,"  and  find  music  in  the  sound. 

We  have  had  very  bad  weather  lately,  and  I  should  have  been 
afraid  of  a  hurricane,  (for  this  is  the  season,)  but  that  my  depen- 
dence upon  the  providence  of  God  is  become  almost  habitual.  I 
have  had  so  many  and  such  great  deliverances,  within  these  few. 
years,  that  I  hope  I  shall  learn,  by  degrees,  to  think  myself  in  no 
more  danger  in  one  time  or  place,  than  in  another,  while  I  am  io 
the  path  of  duty,  and  do  not  place  confidence  in  my  own  abilities, 
or  mistake  the  means  for  the  end. 


August  21. 
I  suHm  IT,  witii  due  deference,  to  your  judgment  in  my  own  fu« 
vour,  and  will  entertain  as  good  an  opinion  of  myself  as  I  can, 
with  any  regard  to  truth.  Indeed,  if  I  am  not  better  than  form^ 
erly  by  my  connexion  with  you,  I  must  be  quite  incorrigible.  For 
a  proof  that  I  ouce  was  a  very  poor  creature,  I  could,  if  you 
would  not  be  angry,  cite  your  own  opinion  upon  several  occa* 
sions,  and  summon  more  witnesses  than  two  or  three.  I  divert- 
myself  sometimes  with  the  recollection  of  what  passed  between 
Mrs.  P**  and  me,  when  I  first  saw  her  after  we  were  married.  It 
was  to  this  purpose :— »"  Dear  Madam,  wish  me  joy." — ^'  Of  what. 
Sir  ?— «'  Of  my  marriage."—"  With  whom,  pray  ?"— «  With  my 
dear  M***."— "  What  M***  !  M***  C***  ?"— «  Yes,  slie  own- 
ed  that  name  lately,  but  has  now  cast  it  oiT,  and  desires  you  would 
know  her  by  mine/'-^"  Ah  !"  says  she,  sighing  and  shaking  her 
bead  both  at  once,  "  I  wish  it  was  true."  Her  sister  interposed 
— **  He  only  jests,"  She  answered,  "Then  he  is  mooh  altered  j 
very  lately  he  would  not  have  jested  upon  this  subject."*^"  No, 
really,  it  is  downright  earnest ;  why  are  you  so  backward  to 
credit  it  ?" — "  Nay — only— becaos^—I  do  not  know — stay-— no 
— ^it  is  impossible."  When  she  had  repeated  this,  or  something 
like  it,  two  or  three  times,  I  begged  her  to  collect  herself,  and 
give  me  her  reasons.  She  did  not  care  to  speak  out,  but  hinted 
an  unsuitablrness  of  tempers  ;  that  you  was  cheerful  and  spright- 
ly, and  I  heavy  and  dull ;  and  though  I  might  be  mad  enougfi  to 
match  at  a  disparity  you  were  more  mistress  of  yourself  than  to 
make  such  a  wild  experiment.     This  she  minced  op  as  complai- 


46  LETTERS   TO    A   WIF£. 

santly  as  she  couid,  not  to  otknd  me  ;  but  I  am  confident  her  real 
sentiments,  and  those  of  most  of  our  acquaintance,  were  as  I  have 
expressed. 

I  told  her  she  had  judged  rightly  of  me,  but  it  was  plain  she 
did  not  so  well  know  you.  At  length  she  was  convinced — but 
still  insisted  it  was  strange,  it  was  passing  strange  ;  but  that  she 
should  love  you  better  than  ever.  "  With  all  my  heart,  Madam,'* 
I  replied,  "  and  so  shall  I  likewise." 


August  26. 

When  I  am  in  easy  circumstances,  1  try  to  heighten  my  pleas- 
ure by  the  recollection  of  past  times,  when  I  have  been  much 
otherwise.  When  I  am  in  a  safe  harbour,  or  on  shore,  I  think  of 
past  difficulties  and  dangers.  When  (as  at  present)  I  possess 
plenty,  I  recall  to  mind  the  seasons  when  I  was  destitute  of  bread 
to  eat,  or  a  shirt  to  wear.  And  to  sum  up  all,  since  I  have  been 
happy  in  a  return  of  your  affection,  I  often  compare  the  state  of 
my  mind  with  what  I  was  when  I  despaired  of  gaining  it. 

I  have  been  lately  looking  back  to  the  hour  when  I  first  saw 
you,  and  fi'om  thence  through  all  the  various  turns  I  met  with  till 
you  had  the  goodness  to  give  me  your  hand  and  heart;  and 
though  you  have  abundantly  made  me  amends  for  all  my  suffer- 
ings, I  think  nothing  short  of  yourself  could  have  satisfied  me  ; 
and  that,  to  the  degree  I  loved  you,  I  must  have  been  miserable  to 
the  end  of  my  life  without  you. 

Do  not  think  I  consider  you  as  the  whole  cause  of  my  wretched- 
ness ;  you  were  indeed  the  occasion^  but  the  cause  was  wholly  in 
myself.  I  gradually  deviated  from  the  principles  in  which  1  was 
educated,  till  I  became  profligate  and  abandoned ;  and  the  way  of 
transgressors  will  always  be  hard.  From  this  state  God  might 
indeed  have  appointed,  some  other  way  for  my  recovery,  though 
1  had  never  known  you  -,  but  to  all  human  appearance  you  were 
the  instrument  of  snatching  me  from  ruin.  And  at  last,  if  you  had 
not  been  one  of  a  thousand,  to  conduct  the  absolute  influence  you 
had  over  me  with  prudence  and  caution,  we  might  both  have  been 
unhappy. 

December  12,  1742,  was  the  memorable  day  on  the  event  of 
which  my  future  life  was  to  turn.  I  was  then  advancing  towards 
eighteen,  you  were  within  a  month  of  fourteen.  How  wonderful 
that,  when  we  were  both  so  young,  an  impression  should  be  made 
upon  my  mind  almost  at  first  sight,  which  neither  distance  nor  ab- 
sence, nor  all  my  sufferings,  nor  even  all  the  licentiousness  apd 
folly  I  afterwards  ran  into  could  obliterate ! 


FIRST    VOYAGE   TO    AFRICA.  47 

I  knew  not  at  first  what  ailed  me.  I  was  uneasy  when  you 
were  absent,  yet  when  you  were  present  I  scarcely  durst  look  at 
you*  If  I  attempted  to  speak,  l  trembled  and  was  confused. 
My  love  made  me  stupid  at  first.  I  could  not  bear  to  leave  you ; 
but  once  and  again  broke  my  engagements,  and  disappointed  my 
father^s  aim  to  settle  me  for  life,  rather  than  be  banished  far  froih 
you. 


August  30. 
Lv  March,  1744, 1  was  impressed,  and  sent  in  a  tender  on  board 
the  Harwich.  Here  I  began  a  new  stage  of  my  life.  Here  I  met 
with  a  shrewd  man,  who  robbed  me  of  my  principles,  and  poisoned 
me  with  infidelity.  Then  bad  soon  biecame  worse,  1  forsook 
God,  and  he  left  me,  for  a  time,  to  follow  the  way  of  my  own 
heart.  I  deserted  from  the  ship  at  Plymouth,  when  sent  upon 
duty,  but  was  apprehended,  brought  back  like  a  felon,  degraded 
and  punished,  as  I  well  deserved.  Surely  no  misery  could  be 
^eater  than  mine  while  I  remained  in  that  ship  -,  but  at  Madeira 
1  was  exchanged  and  sent  to  Guinea.  In  that  ship  I  mi^ht  have 
done  well,  but  I  would  not,  and  at  length  thought  it  eligible  to 
quit  her,  and  to  reside  on  shore  in  Africa.  Here  falling  sick,  and 
being  therefore  useless,  I  incurred  the  displeasure  and  contempt 
of  my  black  mistress,  P.  I.  and  soon  became  the  scorn  and  the 
pity  of  slaves.  Almost  naked  and  famished,  a  burden  to  myself 
and  to  all  around  me,  helpless  and  hopeless,  I  dragged  through 
almost  a  year.  My  outward  situation  was  then  a  little  amended  ; 
and  I  thought  myself  fixed  for  life,  when  a  message  reached  me  in 
a  most  providential  manner,  inviting  mc  to  return  to  England. 
The  invitation  ^ould  have  been  in  vain,  had  it  not  revived  in  my 
mind  the  possibility  (had  I  considered  maturely,  it  would  hardly 
have  amounted  to  a  possibility)  of  obtaining  you.  This  gleam  of 
hope  determined  me.  If  I  had  not  known  you,  perhaps  I  should 
never  have  seen  the  coast  of  Guinea.  But  it  seems  more  certain, 
that  if  I  had  not  known  you,  I  should  never  have  returned  from  it. 
Near  a  year  (for  so  long  I  was  on  shipboard)  I  spent  in  dreadful 
wickedness  :  and  I  should  have  come  to  England  as  unworthy  of 
you  as  ever,  had  it  not  pleased  God  to  meet  with  me.  Oh  !  I 
nave  reason  to  praise  him  for  that  storm  ;  for  the  apprehension  I 
had,  first  of  sinking  under  the  weight  of  all  my  sins  into  the  ocean. 
and  into  eternity,  and  afterwards  of  being  starved  to  death.  Then 
I  began  to  think  ;  I  attempted  to  pray,  and  my  first  half-formed 
prayers  were  answered.  He  whom  the  winds  and  seas  obey,  in 
a  manner  little  less  than  miraculous,  brought  me  in  safety  to 
Ireland. 


48  LSTTEES   TO  A   WIFE. 


September  2. 

Whsn  I  arrived  at  Liverpool,  not  meeting  with  a  letter  from 
your  aunt,  I  thought  myself  forsaken  by  her.  This  added  to  the 
rest  of  the  difficulties  which  I  knew  were  in  my  way,  i?iade  me 
despair  of  success  ;  and  as  I  was  now  become  more  considerate,  I 
thought  it  best  for  us  both  to  break  off;  accordingly  I  wrote  to 
her,  with  a  heavy  heart,  and  with  watery  eyes,  that  1  intended  to 
give  you  no  further  trouble.  Qut,  upon  the  receipt  of  her  an- 
swer, 1  was  glad  to  change  my  mind  ;  and  I  soon  set  off  for  Lon- 
don to  see  you.  See  you  I  did,  but  little  more.  I  was  tongue- 
tied,  as  formerly  ;  when  I  had  just  feasted  my  eyes,  I  returned  to 
Liverpool  at  almost  as  great  an  uncertainty  as  before  ;  I  cannot 
say  quite,  for  I  saw  so  much  generosity  in  your  behaviour,  as  en- 
couraged me  to  hope  on.  And  I  ventured  afterwards  to  put  it  to  a 
final  issue  to  yourself  by  letter.  I  believe,  had  you  then  given  me 
aj)  absolute  refusal,  1  should  have  endeavoured  to  conquer,  or  at 
least,  to  smother  my  passion. 

When  I  received  your  answer,  I  kept  it  some  time  befqre  I 
durst  open  it.  When  I  did,  I  was  transported  to  find  you  kind— 
for  though  you  wrote  in  the  most  cautious  terms,  I  knew  it  was 
much  in  my  favour  that  you  would  write  at  all,  and  that  you  de- 
signed I  should  understand  it  so.  And  I  was  sure  you  bad  too 
much  honour  and  goodness  to  trifle  with  me,  after  I  had  stated  the 
afiair  in  so  serious  a  light. 

Then,  my  dearest  M***,  on  that  very  day,  I  began  to  live  in- 
deed, and  to  act,  in  all  my  concerns,  with  a  spirit  and  firmness  to 
which  I  before  was  a  stranger.  My  next  voyage,  though  trouble- 
some enough,  yet,  enlivened  by  the  hopes  you  had  given  me,  was 
to  me  light  and  easy.  And  as  it  pleased  God  to  enable  me,  in 
some  measure,  to  act  up  to  my  new  resolutions,  I  was,  for  the 
most  part,  at  peace  every  way.  1  informed  you  of  my  arrival  at 
Liverpool,  and,  upon  the  receipt  of  your  second  dear  letter,  I  set 
off  to  try  once  more  what  I  could  find  to  say  for  myself ;  and,  as 
you  were  then  disposed  to  make  your  company  agreeable  to  me,  I 
found  it  so  indeed.  Such  are  the  outlines  of  my  history,  which  I 
will  close  with  thanking  you  for  the  invaluable  present  you  made 
me,  on  the  never-to-be-forgotten  first  of  February,  1750.  But 
1  must  request  your  patience  while  1  draw  an  inference  or  two 
from  it. 


September  6. 
And,  first,  from  a  frequent  review  of  the  past,  I  learn  to  be  easy 
and  thankful  in  my  present  situation.     The  dispensations  of  Di- 


FIKST    VOYAGE   TO   AFRIOA.  49 

vine  Providence  towards  me  have  surely  been  extraordinary* 
All  the  evil  I  suffered  was  the  immediate  result  of  my  own  folly 
and  wilfulness  ;  but  the  good  I  have  experienced  was. wholly  un- 
merited, and  for  a  long  time  unhoped  for.  Had  it  pleased  God  to 
continue  my  life  upon  any  terms,  I  ought  to  be  very  thankful  for  it, 
as  allowing  me  time  for  repentance.  But  as  though  this  were  'B, 
small  thing,  my  wild  and  roving  behaviour  has  been  over-ruled  to 
procure  me  a  better  prospect  in  life,  than  perhaps  I  should  have 
obtained  by  following  my  proper  business  from  the  first  with  a 
steady  application.  And  further,  as  I  have  reason  to  think  that 
riches,  could  I  have  acquired  them,  would  have  been  tasteless  to 
me  without  you,  what  sufficient  acknowledgment  can  I  make  that 
even  this  last,  best  crowning  gift,  should  be  added  to  the  rest ! 
Could  my  wretched  course  of  life,  for  several  years  that  I  pre- 
tended to  have  you  so  much  at  heart,  entitle  me  to  tnis  blessing  ? 
Alas  !  I  was  unworthy  of  you,  in  every  sense  of  the  word. 

Since,  iherefcfre,  so  many  blessings  were  in  store  for  me,  though 
I  had  cast  off  all  fear  and  thought  of  the  great  God  ;  why  should 
1  fear,  now  that  I  endeavour  to  acknowledge  him  in  all  my  ways  ? 
I  entered  upon  this  voyage  with  little  anxiety,  though  I  well  knew 
it  would  expose  me  to  many  dangers,  because  I  had  been  protected 
before,  and  brought  through  the  like  unhurt.  1  parted  from  you 
with  grief,  it  is  true,  and  yet  with  a  degree  of  cheerfulness  ;  be- 
cause 1  trusted  that  he  who  brought  us  together  so  much  beyortd 
my  expectations  and  deserts,  would  restore  us  to  each  other  agaih 
at  a  proper  time  ;  and,  for  the  same  reason,  my  heart  now  exultB 
in  the  hope  that  the  time  is  nearly  approaching.  My  cares  are 
sweetened  with  many  comforts,  and  my  pleasures,  when  I  meet 
them,  I  believe,  are  with  as  little  alloy  as  can  be  expected  in  this 
sublunary  state. 

I  infer,  secondly,  (which  I  have  often  mentioned  before,  but 
cannot  too  often  repeat,)  how  great  my  obligations  are  to  you.  i 
will  not  compliment  you  as  the  first  and  principal  cause,  (for  that 
I  look  higher,)  but  surely  I  may  consider  you  as  the  chief  mean 
and  instrument  of  rescuing  me  from  guilt  and  misery,  and  forming 
me  to  a  true  taste  for  the  enjoyment  of  life.  In  gaining  you,  1 
gained  all  at  once.  The  empty  shows  of  pleasure,  which  daily 
ruin  thousands,  have  no  more  charms  for  me  ;  and  the  difficulties 
and  troubles  which  are,  more  or  less,  inseparable  from  this  mortal 
state,  appear  light  and  tolerable  for  your  sake.  The  only  study 
now  left  me  (a  pleasing  study)  is,  how  I  may  best  deserve  and 
requite  your  goodness.  Gooa  night.  I  am  going  to  look  at  the 
north  star. 

Vol.  IV.  7 


^^0  LETTERS    TO   A   WIFE. 


September  6. 
I  MUST  mention  one  additional  circumstance,  ^vhich  demands 
my  thankfulness*  I  mean  the  friendship  and  kindness  of  the 
ivnole  family  to  which  1  am  by  you  allied.  Was  it  not  very  happy 
for  me,  that  I  should  receive  you  from  those  very  persons  to 
whom,  of  all  others,  I  had  the  greatest  desire  of  being  obliged  ? 
For  I  knew  it  would  have  been  in  vain  to  expect  your  consent, 
unless  it  was  allowed  dnd  confirmed  by  theirs,  by  the  bye,  I 
should  tell  you  that  your  unusual  obseirvance  to  your  parents  gave 
me  some  of  my  strongest  hopes,  that  if  we  were  once  joined,  we 
should  do  well  together ;  for  I  thought  it  morally  impossible,  that 
the  best  daughter  I  had  met  with,  should  not  prove  a  good  wife* 
I  have  seen  Uie  peace  of  some  hopeful  marriages  disturbed,  and 
sometimes  destroyed,  by  dissentions  arising  from  the  new  rela- 
tions ;  but  I  have  seldom  seen  such  entire  disinterested  harmony 


as  subsists  among  us. 


mit  Seoy  September  9. 
It  is  now  such  weather  as  often  makes  those  who  live  on  shore 
pity  the  poor  sailors*  The  wind  blows  very  hard,  the  sea  runs 
feign,  and  tosses  the  ship  about  without  any  ceremony*  So  that 
writing  is  difficult,  and  1  must  be  shorter  than  usual ;  but  I  was 
not  willing  to  desist  entirely.  For  my  own  part,  I  do  not  think 
my  case  very  pitiable.  I  am  in  good  health,  I  am  surrounded  by 
a  good  Providence,  to  which  a  calm  and  a  storm  are  alike ;  and, 
as  the  wind  is  fair,  every  puff  pushes  me  nearer  to  you.  I  have 
shortened  the  distance  between  us  about  one  hundred  and  eighty 
miles  within  the  last  twenty-four  hours.  Who  would  not  purchase 
this  speed  (if  it  could  be  bought)  at  the  price  of  a  litde  inconven- 
ience ?  Not  that  I  am  anxiously  in  haste.  I  am  willing  to  make 
the  best  use,  both  of  fair  and  of  contrary  winds,  and  if  possible, 
with  equal  thankfulness,  for  1  trust  all  my  concerns  are  under  a 
better  direction  than  my  own,  and  that  you  and  I  shall  meet  again, 
in  the  best  concerted  hour  and  manner  imaginable. 


At  Seuj  September  16. 
The  scene  is  much  changed  since  yesterday.  The  wind  is 
abated,  and  the  raging  billows  are  greatly  subsided.  I  thank  God 
we  did  not  sustain  the  least  damage,  though  such  seasons  are  not 
without  real  danger;  for  the  force  of  the  sea,  when  enraged  by 
the  wind,  is  inconceivable  by  those  who  have  not  seen  it,  and  un- 


flRST    VOYAGE    TO   AFRICA.  61 

manageable  by  those  who  have  seen  the  most  of  it.  God  is  often 
pleased  to  make  this  element  his  instrument  of  confounding  the 
pride  of  those  who  presume  to  think  their  own  art,  vigilance,  and 
precaution,  a  suflicient  security  against  it;  while  at  the  same,  or 
at  a  worse  time,  he  makes  the  use  of  common  means  successful,  to 
such  as  acknowledge  that  their  best  endeavours  must  be  in  vain 
without  his  blessing. 

It  is  a  common  error  to  be  much  afraid  in  times  of  great  appa« 
rent  danger,  and  only  at  such  seasons.  In  a  tempest,  a  fire,  a 
pestilence,  or  an  earthquake,  we  are  alarmed,  and  cry.  Lord,  help 
uis,  and  give  ourselves  up  for  gone.  But ,  alas  !  were  our  fi-ail 
lives  any  way  inconsistent  with  the  views  of  Providence,  there  is 
no  need  of  such  a  mighty  apparatus  to  remove  us.  A  fever,  a  fall, 
a  fly,  a  tile,  or  eveti  a  hair,  are,  and  have  been,  sufficient  to  inter- 
rupt the  schemes  of  the  ambitious,  to  rob  the  conqueror  of  his  tri- 
umphs, or  to  change  beauty  into  a  loathsome  mass. 

These  thoughts  have  arisen  from  a  grateful  sense  of  my  late 
preservation,  and  there  is  a  propriety  in  offering  them  to  you.  I 
owe  to  you  the  most  that  enaears  life  to  me.  I  ought  to.be  thank- 
ful for  its  continuance,  though  it  were  not  thus  enlivened,  as  a 
state  of  improvement  and  preparation  for  a  better!  but  for  any 
happiness  merely  temporal,  further  than  what  shall  be  allotted  mc 
through  and  with  you,  1  have  neither  conception  nor  desire.  Fur- 
ther than  this  I  dare  not  say.  God  forbid  that  either  of  us  should 
mistake  the  mean,  his  goodness  in  blessing  us  with  affections  so 
happily  atlunecj  to  each  other,  for  the  end  to  which  it  ought  to 
Icacf  us ;  so  as  to  place  an  undue  stress  upon  what  must  be  either 
taken  from  us,  or  we  from  it.  Since  we  are  sure  we  must  at 
length  part,  let  us  endeavour  that  it  may  be  upon  such  terms  as 
may  afford  us,  mutually,  the  joyful  hope  of  a  re-union,  when  we 
shall  no  more  be  liable  to  separation  or  disappointment.  This 
must  be  happiness  indeed ! 


At  Sea,  September  19. 

I  AM  a  great  admirer  of  JEsop's  fables.  They  could  jUardly 
have  been  more  adapted  to  the  customs  and  humours  of  our  times, 
had  ihey  been  written  in  London.  His  apes,  lions,  foxes,  geese, 
magpies,  and  monkeys,  may  be  met  in  our  streets  every  day.  As 
a  proof  that  I  am  not  partial  in  my  censure,  I  will  confess  that  I 
myself  have  frequently  appeared  in  some  of  these  characters. 
When  I  first  knew  you,  I  was  a  bear ;  I  then  became  an  owl,  and 
afterwards  exhibited  the  worst  properties  of  all  these  brutes  in  my 
single  self. 

The  morals,  so  called,  usually  subjoined  to  the  fables,  I  think 


$*2  LETTERS   TO   A   WIFS. 

otiight.be  omitted  without  much  loss.  Let  the  reader  moralize  for 
l^imself,  as  I  mean  to  do  on  a  fable  which  commonly  stands  the 
f^rst  in  the  book.  I  must  give  it  you  from  memory,  and  believe  I 
Sihall  not  much  deviate  frooi  the  original : 

*'  A  cock,  scraping  in  a  dunghill,  found  a  diamond.  Oh !  said 
he,  what  a  fine  bright  thing  is  this !  a  jeweller  would  be  overjoyed 
to  find  it;  but,  for  my  part,  I  think  it  a  mere  bawble,  and,  would 
prefer  one  barley-corn  to  all  the  diamonds  and  pearls  in  the 
world !"  Is  not  tliis  a  lively  picture  of  some  who  would  be  thought 
fine  gentlemen!  In  taste,  aiscernnient,  and  employment,  how 
nearly  do  they  resemble  the  cock !  Solomon  assures  us,  the  price 
of  a  virtuous  woman  is  above  rubies  ;  which  sufficiently  explains 
what  is  meant  by  the  diamond.  Thus  the  Ubertine  judges  of  a 
fine  woman,  every  way  Qualified  to  make  a  man  of  sense  happy. 
He  will,  like  the  cock,  allow  (hat  she  is  worth  much  to  the  one  who 
knows  how  to  value  her,  (for  beauty  joined  with  goodness  in  a 
female  character,  will  extort  some  homage  from  the  most  brutish.) 
Tmust  own,  he  would  say,  she  is  very  amiable ;  and,  if  a  man 
should  ^in  her  who  can  relish  the  good  sense,  tenderness,  and 
generosity  ^he  seems  to  possess,  he  would,  to  be  sure,  think  him- 
self very  happy;  but  these  things  are  to  me  mere  bawbles.  If  I 
have  my  barley  corn,  I  shall  not  envy  him.  My  bottle  and  a  bro- 
thel are  more  to  my  taste.     Thus  far  my  moral. 

How  is  it  that  women,  who  profess  a  regard  for  honour,  truth, 
and  virtue,  will,  without  scruple,  converse  in  general  terms  with 
men  who  jive  in  open  defiance  to  these  principles,  if  they  are  only 
recommended  by  a  genteel  address  and  appearsfnce ;  and  will 
permit  them,  upon  the  easy  condition  of  avoiding  gross,  vulgar 
terms,  to  say  things  which  they  must  surely  despise?  If  they 
would  resolutely  treat  with  contempt  the  man  who  should  dare  to 
hint,  that  he  considers  all  women  as  alike,  it  would  prevent  the  ruin 
of  many  of  your  sex.  and  be  the  most  effectual  step  towards  a 
reformation  amongst  ours  that  I  can  think  of.  But  now,  let  a 
wretch,  by  a  complicated  scene  of  perjury,  baseness,  and  ingrati- 
tude, first  ruin,  and  then  abandon,  a  youne  creature  who  has  been 
so  unhappy  as  to  believe  him,  he  will  probably  be  received  in  the 
next  company  with  a  smile,  and  marks  of  good  will;  while  the 
poor  du\>e  of  his  artifice,  deprived  both  of  peace  and  subsistence, 
shall  be  deemed  unworthy  of  pity ;  and  this  from  women  who 
ought  to  be  the  patterns  of  commiseration  and  candour ! 

You,  I  know,  think  more  justly.  You  do  not  suppose  that  your 
having  withstood  or  escaped  all  villanous  designs,  can  warrant 
you  to  add  weight  to  the  affliction  of  those  who  have  been  over- 
reached.    I  may  say  of  you,  with  the  poet, 

There  dwelt  the  scorn  of  vice,  and  pitj  too. 


FIRST   VOYAGE   TO   ATRICA.  53 

I  know  not  what  I  should  digress  to  next,  but  T  am  just  told  the 
tea-kettle  boils  ;  so,  as  the  sailors  say,  no  more  at  present. 


Septemher  20. 

We  have  another  heavy  gale  of  wind,  and  it  is  not  easy  to  sit 
fast,  or  to  hold  a  pen ;  but  as  the  distance  between  us  is  lessening 
at  the  rate  of  seven  or  eight  miles  per  hour,  I  am  willing  to  fill  up 
my  paper  as  fast  as  I  can.  1  wish  I  had  words  to  convey  some 
idea  oi  the  scene  around  me;  but  it  cannot  be  fully  described.  A 
faint,  and  but  a  faint  conception  may  be  formed  from  pictures,  or 
prints,  of  a  storm  at  sea.  Imagine  tj  yourself  an  immense  body 
of  water  behind  you,  higher  than  a  house,  and  a  chasm  of  equal 
depth  just  before  you :  both  so  apparendy  dangerous  that  you 
could  hardly  determine  which  to  venture ;  and  both  so  near,  as 
not  to  allow  you  a  moment's  time  to  choose  :  for  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye  the  ship  descends  into  the  pit  which  is  gaping  to  receive 
her,  and  with  equal  swiftness  ascends  to  the  top  on  the  other  side, 
before  the  mountain  that  is  behind  can  overtake  her.  And  this  is 
repeated  as  often  as  you  can  deliberately  count  four.  It  is  indeed 
wonderful  that  a  ship  will  run  incessantly  over  these  hills  and  dales 
for  days  and  weeks  together  (if  the  gale  lasts  so  long)  without  re- 
ceiving the  least  damage,  or  taking  any  considerable  quantity  of 
water  on  board ;  and  yet  never  be  more  than  four  or  five  yards 
from  a  sea  which,  if  it  was  quite  to  reach  her,  would  perhaps  disa* 
ble  her  beyond  recovery,  if  not  beat  her  to  pieces  at  a  single  blow« 
Need  we  go  further  for  the  proof  of  a  Providence  always  near, 
always  kind,  kind  to  the  unthankful  and  the  evil  ?  For  though 
these  marks  of  his  care  are  repeated  every  minute,  they  are  sel- 
dom acknowledged  by  seamen.  For  my  own  part,  I  see  dangers 
so  numerous  and  imminent  that  I  should  be  always  in  anxiety  and 
fear,  could  I  not  submit  myself  and  all  my  concerns  to  Him  who 
holds  the  waves  of  the  sea  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  as  the  proph- 
et strongly  expresses  it ;  so  that  when  most  enraced  by  the  winds, 
I  am  sure  they  dare  not  rise  a  single  inch  beyona  his  permission. 

You  have  often  heard  of  an  ostrich,  and  perhaps  seen  one. 
This  bird  is  common  in  the  northern  parts  of  Africa  ;  and,  if 
iravellei-s,  may  be  believed,  he  has.  a  peculiarity  which,  if  my 
friend  ^£sop  liad  known,  he  would,  I  think,  have  given  him  a  place 
in  bis  fables;  They  say,  when  an  ostrich  is  pursued,  he  usually 
gets  clear  bv  running,  if  the  place  is  open  and  plain;  (for  they 
are  swifter  than  a  horse ;)  but  if  he  be  near  an  enclosure  or  wood, 
he  sticks  his  head  into  the  first  bush  he  can  reach,  and  when  he 
can  no  longer  see  his  enemy,  he  thinks  himself  safe,  and  stands 
quiet  till  he  is  caught.     We  may  smile  at  this  folly  in  a  bird,  but 


54  LCTT£ES   TO  A   WIFS. 

how  often  is  it  an  emblem  of  our  own !  When  the  thing  we  fear  is 
impending,  and  before  our  eyes,  we  are  alarmed ;  but  soon  drop 
our  apprenensions,  and  perhaps  are  unwilling  to  own  we  had  any, 
when  the  danger  is  over,  as  we  suppose ;  that  is,  when  we  cannot 
see  it.  Our  own  wisdom,  or  diligence,  or  vanity,  serve  us  for  a 
bush ;  and  we  little  think  of  the  many  calamities  to  which  we  are 
equally  exposed  from  other  quarters ;  though  we  daily  see  more 
people  suffering  by  what  they  slighted,  than  by  what  they  feared. 
May  you  and  Ilearn  to  fear  the  Lord,  and  we  need  fear  none  but 
him.  He  could  preserve  us  safe  and  happy,  though  fire  and  air, 
earth  and  water,  men  and  devils,  wei'e  to  conspire  against  our 
peace. 


September  2 1 . 

How  different  is  to-day  from  yesterday !  The  sea  hardly  seems 
to  be  the  same  element.  The  weather  is  quite  fair,  the  wind  mod- 
erate, but  still  favourable,  and  the  water  smooth.  When  the 
country  is  loaded  with  snow,  and  the  trees  without  a  leaf,  how 
pleasing  is  the  alteration  produced  by  the  returning  spring!  The 
ground,  by  degrees,  is  covered  with  flowers,  the  woods  arrayed  in 
green,  and  music  is  heard  from  every  thicket.  Seamen  often  ex- 
perience as  jgreat  a  change  in  a  few  hours,  which  makes  it  the 
more  sensible.  A  little  bad  weather,  now  and  then,  makes  the  re- 
turn of  fair  more  pleasant.  I  seem  to^^day  to  breathe  a  new  air, 
and  with  a  new  liie. 

You  are  very  kind  to  wish  yourself  at  sea  with  me ;  but  dearly 
as  I  value  your  company,  I  could  not  consent  to  pay  such  a  price 
for  it.  I  can  easily  submit  to  the  inconveniences  of  a  sea-faring 
life  while  you  are  safe  on  shore;  but  they  would  distress  me 
greatly  if  you  were  affected  by  them.  I  am  like  a  prudent  mer- 
chant who,  not  willing  to  ris^k  his  whole  fortune  in  one  adventure, 
leaves  the  better  and  larger  part  of  his  riches  at  home;  and  then, 
if  any  thing  happens,  he  can  comfort  himself  with  the  thoughts  of 
a  reserve. 

Excepting  the  pain  of  your  absence,  (which  I  hoj)e  1  shall  al- 
ways feel  when  from  you,)  I  have  little  to  disquiet  me.  My  condi- 
tion when  abi*oad,  and  even  in  Guinea,  might  be  envied  by  multi- 
tudes who  stay  at  home.  I  am  as  absolute  in  my  small  dominions 
(life  and  death  excepted)  as  any  potentate  in  Europe.  If  1  say  to 
one.  Come,  he  comes;  if  to  another.  Go,  he  flies.  If  I  order  one 
person  to  do  something,  perhaps  three  or  four  will  be  ambitious  of 
a  share  in  the  service.  Not  a  man  in  the  ship  must  eat  his  dinner 
till  I  please  to  give  him  leave  :  tiay,  nobody  dares  say,  it  is  twelve 
or  eight  o'clock,  in  my  hearing,  till  I  think  proper  to  say  so  first. 


riRST  VOTAOE   Td  AFBICA.  55 

There  is  a  migluy  bustle  of  attendance  when  1  leave  the  ship/ and 
a  strict  watch  kept  while  I  am  absent,  lest  I  should  return  una- 
wares, and  not  be  received  in  due  form.  And  should  I  stay  out 
till  mid-night,  (which  for  that  reason  I  never  do  without  necessi- 
ty,) nobody  must  presume  to  shut  their  eyes,  till  they  have  bad 
the  honour  of  seeing  me  again.  I  would  have  you  judge,  from 
my  manner  of  relating  these  ceremonials,  that  I  do  not  value  them 
highly  for  their  own  sake  ;  but  they  are  old  established  customs, 
and  necessary  to  be  kept  up  ;  for,  without  a  strict  discipline,  the 
common  sailor  would  be  unmanageable.  But,  in  the  midst  of  ail 
my  parade,  I  do  not  forget  (I  hope  I  never  shall)  what  my  situation 
was  on  board  the  Harwich,  and  at  the  Plantanes. 


September  25. 
While  1  am  writiog,  the  ship  keeps  running  towards  you. 
The  wind  has  been  mostly  fair  for  more  than  a  week.  Some- 
times I  almost  fancy  myself  in  a  dream,  and  think,  Can  it  indeed 
be  possible,  that  1  am  within  a  few  weeks  of  so  much  happiness 
as  a  return  to  you  includes  ?  Perhaps  I  may  find  you  ill — per- 
haps I  may  not  reach  you  at  all,  near  as  I  think  myself.  Hun- 
dreds have  perished  much  nearer  home.  But  all  dark  thoughts 
give  way  to  my  dependence  upon  God.  1  know  I  do  not  deserve 
so  great  a  blessing  as  to  be  restored  to  you  again ;  but  neither  did 
I  deserve  to  be  blessed  with  you  at  first.  1  hope,  arrive  when  I 
will,  I  shall  bring  home  a  disposition  to  be  thankful,  I  have  ad- 
vanced about  eight  hundred  miles  this  week.  How  many  deaths 
and  dangers  have  I  escaped  in  that  space  !  Why  then  should  I 
fear  these  that  are  still  before  me,  if  I  am  always  under  the  same 
pfotection  f 


Jit  Sea,  September  26. 
The  weather  is  at  present  very  cold,  wet,  and  windy  ;  but,  I 
thank  God,  my  heart  is  warm  and  calm.  I  think  of  past  times, 
when  I  have  been  happy  with  you,  and  I  count  nothing  a  hard- 
ship that  does  not  interfere  with  my  hope  of  being  so  again.  I 
would  not  wish  to  fix  the  hour  myself,  because  I  cannot  choose 
for  the  best.  I  suppose  myself  about  three  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  from  Ireland,  and  I  have  at  times  been  too  impatient  to  see 
it,  because  I  should  be  so  much  nearer  to  you.  But  were  we  now 
very  close  to  the  land,  I  might  perhaps  wish  myself  far  out  at  sea 
again ;  for  the  wind,  in  its  present  degree  and  direction,  which  is 


56  LETTERS   TO   A   WITE. 

only  inconvenient  here,  would  there  be  dangerous.  How  often 
have  I  found,  that  the  accooiplishmeot  of  my  own  short-sighted 
designs  would  have  been  to  my  hurt !  And  yet,  alas !  I  feel  it 
difficult  to  submit  my  concerns  to  a  superior  management,  though 
I  sum  convinced,  in  my  judgment,  that  I  could  not  order  them  so 
well  myself.  The  story  of  the  Fairy  who  would  never  assign  a 
reason  for  what  she  did,  but  always  did  right,  though  some  of  her 
proceedings  appeared  to  contradict  her  promises,  I  think  well  suit- 
ed  to  illustrate  the  conduct  of  Divine  Providence,  which  will  sure- 
ly do  us  good,  if  we  can  humbly  trust  it,  without  nicely  examin- 
ing the  aptness  of  the  means  by  which  it  works.  Dr.  PamelPs 
Hermit  is  a  still  more  solid  and  satisfying  illustration  of  this  sub- 
ject. How  miserable,  for  instance,  must  both  you  and  1  have 
been,  if  my  desire  had  succeeded  before  I  had  a  little  learnt  how 
to  treat  and  value  you  f  And  how  unlikely  was  the  path  that  I 
trod  for  several  years,  to  lead  me  to  your  possession  ?  And 
though  I  should  have  thought  myself  happy,  could  I  have  avoid- 
ed the  necessity  of  leaving  you  for  the  long  term  of  this  voyage, 
yet  I  am  assured,  that  when  we  are  permitted  to  meet,  we  shall 
both  derive  advantages  from  the  separation. 

The  ship  has  so  many  motions,  that  writing  (unless  to  you) 
would  be  quite  troublesome.  So  I  shall  leave  off,  though  I  can- 
not say  the  tea-kettle  boils,  nor  am  I  sure  that  it  will,  for  the  sea 
often  puts  the  fire  out.  But  if  you  drink  your  tea  in  peace,  I  can 
make  a  good  shift  without  any. 


^t  Sea,  October  2. 

1  HAVE  been  prevented  from  writing  in  the  day,  so  must  try  my 
eyes  by  candle-light.  Indeed,  at  present,  I  could  not  write  with 
pleasure  to  any  one  but  yourself;  for,  as  I.  expect  every  hour  to 
see  the  land,  my  head  is  full  of  the  charge  of  a  ship  Valuably  laden, 
and  the  lives  of  many  people  intrusted  to  my  care.  Not  that  I 
have  more  anxiety  than  is  needful  to  make  me  use  my  best  endeav- 
ours. For  the  success  of  the  whole,  I  can  with  some  comfort  de- 
pend on  the  good  providence  of  God  ;  but  I  must  not  presume  to 
be  preserved  by  a  miracle.  It  is  sufficient  if  my  best  diligence 
is  permitted  to  answer  the  proposed  end  ;  which,  of  itself,  I  am 
sure  it  cannot  do.  The  innumerable  possibilities  of  miscarriage  to 
which  a  ship  is  liable,  are  far  beyond  the  reach  of  human  forc^ 
sight  or  prevention.  It  is  my  mercy  to  be  convinced  of  this, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  to  be  able  to  look  higher  for  protection. 

When  Caesar  was  once  at  sea  in  a  storm,  and  the  mariners  them- 
selves were  startled  at  the  danger,   he  is  reported  to  have  said, 


FIRST   VOYAGE   TO    AFRICA.  fi7 

**  Fear  oothing,  you  carry  Caesar  and  his  fortune."  Perhaps  I  may, 
with  less  presumption  than  he,  take  some  comfort  in  the  thought 
of  my  own  importance ;  for  though,  strictly  speaking,  I  am  a  mere 
nothing,  I  hope  I  may  rank  myself  with  those  to  whom  all  things 
are  promised  to  work  together  for  good,  and  that  my  best  interests 
are  fixed  upon  a  foundation  that  cannot  be  shaken.  When  I  do 
give  way  to  fears  or  wishes  of  a  temporal  kiod^  I  think  it  is  chief- 
ly on  your  account.  I  would  be  thankful  for  life,  but  am  in  some 
measure  freed  from  the  dread  of  death,  further  than  for  the  grief  it 
would  occasion  to  you.  I  ought  to  strive  to  get  the  better  of 
this  thought  likewise  ;  but  I  have  not  yet  attained.  In  the 
wretched,  unthinkii:g  part  of  my  life,  1  was  futl  of  fears,  which  I 
do  not  now  wonder  at.  The  wonder  is,  how  any-odeWho  lives  as 
I  then  did,  can  be  otherwise.  Surely  the  sudden  and  various 
passages  from. this  world  to  the  next,  must  shock  those  who  have 
nothing  to  hope  for,  but  every  thing  to  fear,  by  the  change. 
The  wicked  flee  when  no  man  pursueth  ;  the  shadow  of  danger 
discomposes  them ;  and  whatever  boasts  they  may  make  of  their 
courage,  it  most  commonly  fails  them  when  most  needed,  unless 
they  have  hardened  themselves  beyond  the  power  of  reflection. 
But  the  righteous  are  bold  as  a  lion.  No  difficulty  can  overpower 
their  resolution  when  they  are  in  the  path  of  duty. 

Were  some  gay  ladies  of  your  acquaintance  to  read  what  I 
write,  they  would  call  much  of  it  stuff,  and  preaching ;  and  ad- 
mire that  you  have  patience  to  read  it.  Perhaps  a  time  will  come, 
when  such  will  wish  they  had  thqughtas  you  do.  However,  I  do 
not  write  in  this  serious  strain  for  your  perusal  only,  but  for  my 
own  ;  to  quicken  my  remembrance  of  the  past,  when  I  shall  be 
restored  to  you,  and  be  in  a  state  of  more  apparent  safety  ;  in 
hopes  that  these  passages  may  contribute  to  the  forming  of  my 
behaviour  then,  answerably  to  my  deliberate  and  cool  judgftient 
of  things  now  ;  that  I  may  not  be  like  the  sailor  who  once,  in 
great  distress,  made  a  vow  to  the  "Virgin  Mary,  that  if  she  would 
deliver  him,  be  would  present  her  with  a  wax  candle  as  big  as 
the  ship's  mainmast ;  and  on  being  asked  how  he  would  raise  mon- 
ey, to  pay  for  so  large  a  candle,  he  said,  "  Let  us  first  get  on 
shore,  and  then  the  saints  will  not  exact  too  strictjy  upon  a  sai- 
lor's promise." 


Jit  Sea,  October  3. 

What  a  tasteless,  unpleasant  voyage  would  this  have  been,  if 
you  had  not  secured  my  happiness  before  I  came  out,  and  given 
me  something  to  remember,  And  something  to  hope  for,  that  has 

Vol.  IV.  8 


58  LXTTEBft  TO  A  wirte« 

supported  me  at  all  times ;  tod  yet  you  denied  me  at  first  with  so 
grave  a  face,  and  bad  such  absolute  command  over  me,  that  I  had 
almost  taken  you  at  your  word.  I  may  be  obliged  to  Mrs.  H.'s 
advice,  that  I  did  not  fairly  give  up  my  suit ;  though,  upon  second 
thoughts,  I  believe  it  was  more  owing  to  my  opinion  of  your  gen- 
erosity. For  I  thought,  that  to  send  me  away  empty  again, 
would  argue  a  selfish  caution,  of  which  I  could  not  suppose  yoo 
capable,  without  wronging  you.  So  I  ventured  to  touch  again 
upon  a  subject  on  which  you  positively  enjoined  me  silence. 
And  I  remember  yon  forbade  me  again,  but  I  thought  you  did  not 
speak  in  so  peremptory  a  manner  as  before.  In  a  lit Je  time  you 
heard  me  without  interrupting  me,  and  from  thence  proceeded  to 
argue  and  object,  in  a  cool,  conversible  strain.  When  it  came  to 
this,  I  promised  myself  success.     I  remembered  that  line. 

The  woman  that  deliberates  U  gained. 

I  then  began  to  press  my  point  more  closely,  till  you  actually 
yielded,  and  gave  me  your  hand  in  consent ;  which,  though  I 
had  been  so  long  entreating  for,  I  could  not  receive  without  trem- 
bling and  surprise.  I  could  hardly  think  myself  awake.  I 
never  till  then  was  sensible  of  the  force  of  my  love  ;  and  I  slept 
that  night  with  a  content  and  sweetness  which  I  had  not  known 
before.  I  often  recollect  these  circumstances,  and  the  much  ado  I 
made  about  you  before  marriage,  to  make  me  careful  that  my  be- 
haviour now  may  be  suitable  to  my  former  professions.  But,  I 
thank  God,  it  does  not  require  much  care  or  pains  ;  for  to  do  all 
in  my  power  to  please  and  oblige  you,  seems  as  natural  to  me  as 
it  is  to  breathe. 


Liverpool^  October  8. 

The  news  of  my  arrival  will  make  this  letter,  however  faulty, 
welcome  to  you.  I  could  not  write,  at  present,  to  any  one  but 
yourself.  I  am  over-fatigued,  having  been  incessantly  walking 
for  four  days  and  four  nights,  which  once  brought  on  a  temporary 
delirium,  though  not  so  violent  as  to  prevent  my  knowing  what  I 
said  or  did.  But  almost  every  thing  I  thought  of  (yourself  ex- 
cepted) seemed  to  be  present  before  my  eyes.  But  since  I  came 
here  I  have  had  a  good  nap,  which  has  much  refreshed  me,  and  I 
hope  to  be  quite  recovered  to-morrow.  In  other  respects  I  am  in 
perfect  health. 

I  hope  to  $et  out  for  London  as  soon  as  the  ship  is  discharged  ; 
but  cannot  be  yet  sure.     Should  another  voyage  be  proposed  im- 


riasf  VOTAOE  to  afrigla.  fy 

mediately,  I  must  beg  yoa  to  submit  to  the  inconventence  of  a 
long  joorney  in  the  winter  ;  for,  now  there  is  no  ocean  between 
us,  we  most  not  be  separated,  no,  not  for  a  single  hoar,  without 
necessity.  But  I  rather  hope  and  expect  the  lot  of  travelling 
will  fall  to  me. 

I  hope  you  will  rather  be  pleased  with  the  knowledge  of  my 
being  now  so  near  you,  than  be  grieved  that  we  must  wait  a  little 
longer  before  we  meet.  For  my  own  part,  I  have  so  strong  an  im- 
pression of  the  dangers  I  have  mercifully  escaped  in  the  course  of 
the  last  week,  that  I  dare  not  complain  of  a  little  delay  ;  and 
when  the  post  shall  bring  me  kn  assurance  of  your  health  and 
peace,  I  shall  cheerfully  v^ait  the  ordinary  course  of  things. 


Liverpool  J  October  II. 

In  about  fourteen  days  from  this  date  I  hope  to  be  preparing 
for  London.  Mr.  M****  says,  that  about  March  I  may  expect 
to  be  summoned  again  ;  and  then  he  hopes  to  see  you  with  me, 
and  that  he  will  be  glad  to  make  his  house  an  agreeable  home  to 
you,  and  charge  himself  with  the  care  of  returning  you  to  London, 
if  you  do  not  choose  to  reside  in  Liverpool  while  I  am  abroad* 
Mrs.  M**^*  likewise  wishes  to  see  you.  She  thinks  she  pays  my 
judgment  a  compliment,  in  forming  a  favourable  idea  of  you  be-^ 
forehand.  I  smile,  and  say  nothing.  She  will  perceive,  when  the 
time  comes,  that  any  opinion  of  you  derived  only  from  the  know- 
ledge of  what  I  am,  must  greatly  wrong  you. 

Many  welcome  me  home ;  but,  alas  !  Liverpool  without  you,  is 
almost  as  poor  a  home  to  me  as  the  wildest  part  of  Africa.  I  only 
say  almost,  because  I  am  much  in  Mr.  M*^**'s  family,  and  when 
there,  6nd  some  alleviation  of  your  absence.  All  the  rest  is  wea- 
risome and  tedious.  I  enjoy  myself  best  when  retired  in  my 
room,  and  especially  when  I  am  writing  to  you. 


Liverpooly  October  13. 
If  I  could  write  a  quire,  I  should  be  unable  to  express  my 

fileasure  on  the  receipt  of  your  dear,  punctual  favour  of  the  9th. 
t  is  like  your  kindness,  to  offer  to  meet  me  upon  the  road,  but  I 
beg  you  to  spare  yourself  the  trouble.  I  do  not  even  desire  you 
to  come  to  London,  as  I  have  no  business  to  detain  me  there,  and 
I  should  be  under  some  restraint  at  the  house  of  an  acquaintance. 
The  pleasure  of  having  our  first  interview  quite  at  home,  amongst 
ourselves,  seems  worth  waiting  for  a  kw  hours.     I  am  glad  you 


60  liSTTE&S   TO   A   WIFK. 

made  yourself  quite  easy  npon  the  news  of  my  departure  from 
Antigua.  But  novf  I  am  safely  arrived,  I  may  venture  to  tell 
you,  that  my  passage  homewards  at  this  time  of  the  year  (the 
hurricane  season)  was  the  most  apparently  dangerous  part  of  the 
.voyage  :  I  thought  it  so  before  I  sailed  ;  yet  I  ventured  to  fore- 
tell a  happy  arrival ;  because  I  trusted  to  that  Providence  which 
has  never  failed  me.  In  effect,  all  proved  favourable  ;  and,  ex- 
cepting two  or  three  hard  gales,  1  might,  for  the  most  part  of  the 
way  have  come  safely  in  a  Gravesend  boat. 


Liverpooly  October  18. 
I  HAVE  been  searching  (in  vain)  for  epithets  and  phrases,  but  I 
must  stop.  ■  They  say  the  Greek  is  a  more  expressive  language 
than  our  own ;  if  so  1  wish  we  both  understood  it,  for  it  is  impos- 
sible for  mere  English  to  do  justice  to  a  twentieth  part  of  what 
I  have  in  my  mind.  Yet  I  ought  not  to  quarrel  with  words,  lest 
my  actions,  however  well  meant,  should  fall  equally  short  of 
what  I  owe  you.  But  I  know  you  will  kindly  value  them  accor- 
ding to  my  intention,  which  I  am  sure  is  strong  and  sincere,  to 
make  you  every  return  in  my  power.  I  hope  soon  to  name  the 
day  of  my  leaving  Liverpool,  and  shall  mind  your  caution  about 
my  health. 


SECOND  VOYAGE  TO  AFRICA. 

1752. 

At  Sea,  June  30. 

I  BEGIN  to  write  the  moineDt  we  are  uader  sail,  and  shall 
snatch  every  interval  while  my  friends  stay  with  me. 

The  first  thing  I  shall  say  is,  that  I  am  really  easy.  Though  I 
have  no  relish  for  mirth,  my  mind  is  at  peace.  The  knowledge 
of  your  love,  the  recollection  of  the  happy  time  I  have  passed 
with  you,  and  the  powerful  considerations  of  a  more  serious  kind, 
which  I  {>ave  oAen  repeated  to  you,  hav^  all  tlie  effect  upon  me 
that  you  could  wish.  And  I  assure  you  the  resolution  you  have 
shown  has  no  small  influence,  both  as  an  example,  and  in  giving 
me  hope  that  you  will  strive  to  be  composed,  and  to  depend,  with 
me,  upon  the  good  Providence  which  has  already  done  so  much 
for  us.  I  do  not  complain  of  being  something  moved  at  parting  i 
because  I  should  be  a  wretch  indeed,  were  I  insensible  of  the  value 
of  what  I  leave  behind.  I  can,  from  experience,  pronounce,  that 
the  pains  of  an  affection  properly  directed,  are  in  no  degree  pro- 
portionable to  its  pleasures.     I  already  look  forward  to  a  time 

when but  I  have  no  words  to  express  myself,  so  must  refer 

you  to  our  last  meeting  on  the  second  of  November.  Such  ano- 
ther interview  will  be  a  full  amends  for  the  disagreeableness  of  a 
long  voyage.  May  the  good  and  gracious  God  bless  and  preserve 
you.  Remember  my  last  advice.  Be  patient  and  thankful,  and 
expect  me,  at  the  best  time,  to  return  and  be  happy  with  you 
again. 


At  Sea,  July  11. 
Though  my  letter  by  the  pilot-boat  went  twelve  days  ago, 
I  have  not  written  to  you  since.'  We  were  exercised  for  some 
time,  while  near  the  land,  with  very  thick  weather,  and  westerly 
winds  ;  and  I  would  not  begin  ray  sea-correspondence  till  I  could 
tell  you  (as  I  thank  God  I  now  can)  that  we  are  safely  in  good 
sea-room.  I  am  almost  ashamed  to  say  how  easily  I  bear  your 
absence.  Surely  it  is  not  that  1  love  you  less  than  formerly  ;  yet 
I  seem  to  myself,  to  make  a  better  shift  without  you  than  I  ought. 
Though  I  think  of  you  continually,  and  pray  for  you  almost 
hourly,  much  oflener  than  ever,  my  love  and  care  for  you  are  much 
freed  from  inquietude  and  anxiety.    I  have  my  serious  hours ;  for 


62  LETTERS    TO   A  WIFE. 

it  is  only  from  serious  thoughts,  at  some  times,  that  I  can  derive 
considerations  sufficient  to  make  me  cheerful  at  any  time. 

I  am  now  settled  in  a  regular  course ;  for  so  far  as  circumstan- 
ces will  permit,  I  do  every  thing  by  rule,  and  at  a  fixed  hour.  My 
time  is  divided  into  seasons  for  devotion,  study,  exercise,  and  rest ; 
and,  thus  diversified,  no  part  of  it  is  tedious. 

I  have  been  following  you,  in  my  mind,  to  London  this  week^ 
where  I  hope  you  arrived  in  safety  last  night ;  but,  lest  I  should 
be  mistaken  in  the  time,  I  propose  to  travel  it  over  again  next 
week.  ^  have  almost  dismissed  my  fears  upon  your  account,  for 
1  have  so  often  recommended  and  resigned  you  to  the  protection 
of  God,  that  I  seldom  doubt  of  his  special  care  over  you.  But  I 
have  bound  myself  in  a  strict  promise,  and  engaged  to  use  my 
whole  interest  with  you  to  join  me  in  it,  that  when  he  shall  be 
pleased  to  bring  us  together  again  in  peace,  we  will  both  endeav- 
our to  show  gratitude  by  our  conduct,  as  well  as  to  express  it  in 
words.  In  the  mean  while,  it  is  one  of  my  daily  and  nightly  pe- 
titions, that  he  may  teach  us  to  extract  a  real  good  out  of  these 
our  painful  separations,  by  improving  Uie  occasion  to  the  increas- 
ing, and  fixing,  our  best  affections,  on  himself.  From  his  favour 
and  goodness,  all  our  blessings,  even  our  mutual  love,  proceeds. 
He  is  able  and  willing  to  prosper  all  our  wishes  and  desires,  so  far 
as  they  are  rightly  grounded ;  and  from  this  notice,  neither  time 
nor  distance  can  separate  us.  He  is  an  ever-present  and  an  all- 
sufficient  helper. 


At  Sea,  July  24. 
I  KNOW  you  have  thought  of  me  to-day;  because  it  is  my  birth- 
day. I  have  likewise  observed  it ;  but  not  so  properly  celebrat- 
ed, as  solemnized  it.  I  would  willingly  grow  wiser  and  better, 
as  I  grow  older,  every  year.  I  have  now  lived  twenty-seven 
years,  but  how  few  things  have  I  done  really  worthy  of  life  !  un- 
less I  am  allowed  to  consider  the  instances  in  which  I  have  endea- 
voured to  show  my  aflection  and  gratitude  to  you  of  that  number. 
1  have  some  hope  that  my  remaining  time  will  be  better  improved  ; 
and  my  prayer  and  wish  for  you  is,  that  we  may  be  both  of  one 
mind,  and  prove  helps  to  each  other  in  our  most  important  busi- 
ness ;  and  this  will  be  the  most  eifectual  means  of  securing  peace 
and  satisfaction  in  our  inferior  concernments.  I  continue  to  con- 
ceive most  of  my  prayers  in  the  plural  number,  as  when  we  were 
together  ;  for  every  desirable  good  that  I  can  ask  for  myself,  I  am 
equally  solicitous  that  you  should  be  a  sharer  in. 


SECOND    TOVAGE   TO    AVRICA.  63 

At  Seay  July  27. 

I  HAD  nearly  missed  my  post  to-nigbt,  by  attending  to  our  old 
sea  form  in  crossing  the  tropic.  This  is  the  boundary  of  what  the 
ancients  called  the  torrid  zone.  We  crossed  the  supposed  line  of 
this  boundary  to-day.  On  these  occasions,  all  tfae  people  on  board 
a  ship  who  have  not  passed  it  before,  are  subject  to  a  fine, 
which,  if  they  refuse  to  pay,  or  cannot  procure,  they  must  be 
ducked;  that  is,  hoisted  up  by  a  rope  to  the  yard-arm,  and 
from  thence  dropped  souse  into  the  water.  This  is  such  fine 
sport  to  the  seamen,  that  they  would  rather  lose  some  of  the  for- 
feiture (which  is  usually  paid  in  brandy)  than  that  every  body 
should  escape  the  ducking.  And  in  many  vessels,  they  single  out 
some  poor  helpless  boy  or  landsman,  to  be  half  drowned  for  the 
diversion  of  his  shipmates.  But  as  I  do  not  choose  to  permit  any 
arbitrary  or  oppressive  laws  to  be  valid  in  my  peaceful  kingdom, 
I  always  pay  for  those  who  cannot  pay  for  themselves.  If  this 
poor  relation  does  not  entertain  you,  the  thought  that  I  wrote  it, 
and  the  persuasion  that  my  inclination  to  send  you  something  bet* 
ter  is  not  wanting,  will,  I  doubt  not,  make  you  some  amends. 

Indeed,  I  am  at  a  loss  for  a  subject.  Suppose,  for  want  of 
something  better,  I  should  observe,  that  it  is  a  month  since  we  part« 
ed.  No,  that  will  not  do — the  word  parted  has  spoiled  all.  Oh ! 
that  morning  !  It  was  a  parting  indeed  !  but  do  not  think  I  am 
uneasy  at  the  recollection.  I  only  gave  way  to  one  tender  sigh, 
and  now  it  is  gone.  Well,  suppose,  we  turn  the  glass,  and  look 
forward  to  our  next  hoped-for  happy  meeting  ?  Aye,  that  is  the 
very  thing  ;  at  the  mention  of  it,  I  almost  forget  that  we  parted  at 
all.  Such  a  meeting  as  our  last!  Well,  I  am  content,  and  ac- 
knowledge that  one  of  those  hours  will  make  amends  for  all. 
Till  that  time  shall  come,  all  that  we  have*  to  do  is  cheerfully  to 
fill  up  the  part  Providence  has  appointed  us,  without  too  ansious 
solicitude ;  to  pray  for  each  other's  welfare,  and  to  endeavour  to 
live  under  the  impression  of  the  blessings  we  have  already  re- 
ceived, or  have  yet  to  hope  for,  from  our  all  gracious  Benefactor ; 
and  all  the  rest  will  in  due  time  come  round,  and  you  will  find  my 
dependence  upon  his  goodness  to  be  well  founded. 


At  Sea,  August  7. 
I  HAVE  no  confidant  now,  as  I  had  in   my  poor  doctor  last 
voyage,  to  whom  I  can  ease  my  mind  a  little,  by  talking  of  you. 
For  my  chief  mate,  though  in  all  other  respects  much  to  my  sa- 
tisfaction, has  not  that  turn  of  temper  which  is  requisite  to  relish 


64  LKTTERS    TO   A   WIFE. 

the  delicacy  of  the  love  I  bear  you  ;  and  to  those  who  have  not 
something  of  a  fellow-feeling,  my  tenderness  would  appear  only 
a  kind  of  innocent  folly.  In  this,  you  have  greatly  the  advan- 
tage of  me ;  you  have  friends  about  you,  who  %vill  often  speak  of 
me,  because  they  know  it  will  please  you.  1  would  rather  have 
your  name  so  sounded  in  my  ears,  than  to  have  Corelli  himself 
entertain  me  with  his  own  music.  For  want  of  this,  I  am  forced 
to  have  recourse  to  ray  old  custom  of  repeating  it  softly  to  myself, 
praying,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  happiness  I  have  in  you,  may 
be  repaid  you  a  thousand  fold. 

So  that  when  I  indulge  myself  with  a  particular  thought  of  you, 
it  usually  carries  me  on  further,  and  brings  me  upon  my  knees  to 
bless  the  Lord  fur  giving  me  such  a  treasure,  and  to  pray  for  your 
peace  and  welfare.  I  cannot  express  the  pleasure  and  satisfaction 
I  find  in  these  exercises.  When  thus  engaged,  my  fears  subside, 
my  impatience  of  your  absence  changes  into  a  resignation  full  of 
hope,  and  every  anxious,  uneasy  thought  is  lulled  to  rest.  This 
is  my  present  temper,  nor  would  I  waste  a  wish  for  any  thing  the 
world  can  afford,  beyond  the  probabilities  which  lie  before  nie. 


At  Sea,  August  1 1 . 
I  NCEj>  not  apologize  to  you  for  writing  so  much  in  a  serious 
strain  ;  but  were  an  excuse  needful,  1  must  plead  yourself.  For 
when  1  take  up  my  pen,  and  begin  to  consider  what  I  shall  say,  I 
am  led  to  think  of  the  goodness  of  God,  who  has  made  you  mine, 
and  given  me  a  heart  to  value  you.  Thus  my  love  to  you,  and 
my  gratitude  to  him,  cannot  be  separated.  And  as  you  are  so 
good  as  to  prize  my  affection,  by  finding  it  thus  accompanied,  you 
may  be  assured  of  its  being  unalterable.  All  other  love,  that  is 
not  thus  connected  with  a  dependence  upon  God,  must  be  precari- 
ous. To  this  want  1  attribute  many  unhappy  marriages.  I  be- 
lieve many  persons  fall  (?om  their  hopes  of  satisfaction  in  that 
«itate,  by  degrees  insensible  to  themselves ;  and  a  secret  change, 
or  alienation  of  mind  from  each  other,  takes  place  before  they 
are  well  aware  of  it ;  till,  in  lime,  they  proceed  to  such  lengths 
us  they  would  once  have  judged  impossible. 

«  1  am  not  at  a  loss  to  account  for  this.  God  has  subjected  the 
prcsciii  state  of  the  world  to  uncertainty  and  vanity  ;  not  because 
he  is  a  liard  master,  but  because  he  sees,  if  we  go  on  smoothly 
long,  wo  are  prone  to  forget  that  our  great  concern  in  this  life 
should  be  to  prepare  for  another.  Now  they  who,  by  his  grace, 
are  led  to  consider  the  great  truths  of  religion,  and  are  taught, 
before  the  days  of  trial  come,  to  submit  themselves,  their  designs. 


SECOND  VOYAGE  TO  AFRICl.  65 

and  enjoyments,  to  liis  wisdom  and  guidance,  may,  in  a  great 
measure,  escape  the  bitterness  of  evil,  or,  at  least,  the  most 
bitter  of  those  evils  to  which  mqrtality  is  subject ;  becs^ose  the 
merciful  design  of  affliction  is,  to  them,  so  far  answered.  But 
they  who  judge  so  ill .  as  to  place  a  dependence  upon  each 
other,  which  interferes  with  what  they  owe  to  their  common 
Preserver,  oblige  him,  if  I  may  so  speak,  to  quash  their  pur- 
pose, either  by  sickness,  sufferings,  death,  or  what  to  me  seems 
worse  than  all,  a  change  of  affection,  to  make  them  feel  their 
offence  in  their  punishment.  I  dare  not  say  that  you  and  I  have 
not  been  guilty  of  this  error.  But  since  it  has  pleased  God, 
as  yet,  to  forbear  afflicting  us  for  it,  I  hope,  for  the  future,  we 
shall  be  more  upon  our  guard,  and  not  further  displease  him. 


Sierra  Ledne,  August  11 , 
We  arrived  here  the  17th,  after  a  fine,  and  not  very  long,  pas- 
sage.    We  had  no  violent  weather,  nor  painful  event,  but  a  visi- 
ble hand  of  conducting  Providence  attended  us  all  the  day.     I 
iiave  begun  trade,  and  things  appear  in  a  promising  train. 

I  often  ask  myself  if  I  know  any  person  upon  earth  with  whom 
f  could  be  content,  in  all  points,  to  change  :  and  I  can  confident- 
ly answer,  No  :  for  the  knowledge  and  enjoyment  of  your  \ovt 
enable  me  to  look  with  pity  upon  kings,  and  I  would  not  part 
with  what  I  now  feel  upon  your  account,  for  the  treasures  of  both 
the  Indies. 


October  6. 

The  Hunter,  which  will  sail  in  a  few  days^  has  a  large  packet 
for  you  ;  and  1  have  further  sent  you  a  few  lines  by  Mr.  D****, 
a  young  gentleman  from  Scotland,  who  is  on  board  her.  He  has 
promised  to  deliver  my  letter  in  person,  though  he  has  no  business 
at  C****  but  to  oblige  me  by  seeing  you,  that  he  may  answer 
any  little  questions  you  may  ask,  or  inform  you  of  some  incidents 
which  Lmay  have  omitted.  It  is  not  easy  to  say,  what  pleasure 
I  could  take  in  conversing  with  any  person  who  had  lately  been 
with  you ;  and  I  judge  of  you  by  myself  In  other  respects  he  is 
an  agreeable  man,  and  I  have  been  much  pleased  with  him.  I 
am  informed  he  has  a  tolerable  estate  in  Scotland  }  but  having  an 
«ager  desire  of  seeing  new  things,  after  having  made  the  tour  of 
iFrance,  he  thought  there  might  be  something  worthy  of  his  notice 

Vol.  IV.  9 


66  LETTfiRS   TO   A   WirE. 

tm  in  Gttioea.    Bat  I  believe  bis  expectations  have  been  mucb 
banlked. 

It  is  now  tbe  noon  of  nigbt,  as  Sbalispeare  somewliere  expresses* 
it  I  left  Sierra  Leone  this  morning.  I  am  sleepy,  but  must  not 
go  to  bed  yety  being  often  obliged  to  watch  when  the  ship  is  un- 
der sail.  This  I  submit  to  cheerftilly,  because  you  have,  before- 
handy  overpaid  me  fpr  my  trouble,  I  have  been  praying  for 
ytmr  calm  repose,  and  am  pleased  with  the  hope  that  only  one  of 
us  is  kept  waking.  I  pity  those  who  have  only  dull  interests  to 
animate  them  in  their  business ;  and  am  surprised  to  see  how  pow- 
erful an  inducement  this  is  to  them  who  have  not  a  better.  But  I 
believe  love  would  support  me  through  more,  and  with  more 
alacrity,  than  their  plodding  motive.  When  I  am  wearied  or 
perplexed  with  any  affair,  I  have  only  to  reflect  that  I  am  employ- 
ed upon  your  account,  and  that  I  may  look  for  my  reward  from 
you,  when  I  have  done  my  work,  or  rather,  that  you  rewarded  me 
before  I  undertook  it,  and  all  difficulties  presently  disappear. 


Shebar,  October  S\. 

Since  my  last  1  have  been  a  week  on  shore,  and  three  or  four 
days  indisposed  ;  but  am  now,  I  thank  God,  quite  recovered. 
Your  letter  of  the  I2th  of  July  came  very  seasonably,  to  comfort 
me  in  my  illness.  When  you  assure  me  that  you  are  easy,  1  seem 
to  have  nothing  to  make  me  otherwise. 

I  have  been  sitting  very  gravely  with  my  pen  in  my  hand  for 
some  minutes,  waiting  for  a  thought  to  begin  with  ;  but  with  so 
little  success,  that,  were  it  not  to  you,  I  should  lay  the  paper  aside 
till  I  was  in  a  better  cue.  But  to  you  something  must  be  said. 
I  have  rung  so  many  changes  upon  love  and  gratitude,  upon  the 
pains  of  separation,  and  the  over  balancing  pleasures  of  meeting, 
that  though  I  cannot  be  weary  of  the  subjects,  1  begin  to  be  weary 
of  my  way  of  treating  them.  But  then,  where  shall  I  find  other 
subjects  worthy  either  of  your  attention  or  my  own  ? 

Were  I  to  muster  up  my  learning,  and  tell  you  what  Plato  or 
Cicero  said,  and  upon  what  occasion  they  said  it,  I  should  think 
the  paper  might  have  been  filled  more  acceptably  to  you  by  a 
speech  of  my  own.  Were  1  to  send  you  a  sample  of  philosophy, 
you  might  justly  say,  "  This  is  but  a  cold  business."  Shall  I 
then  try  to  be  witty  ?  Alas  !  one  tender  thought,  one  sigh  that  ter- 
minates in  your  dear  name,  would  spoil  my  conceit.  1  can  think 
but  of  one  subject  more,  and  that  perhaps  1  have  already  over- 
done likewise,  unless  I  could  do  it  better.  But  perform  well  or 
ill,  you  have  little  to  expect  fipom  me  but  either  love-letters  or  ser- 


5KCOND  VOTAOE  TO  AFAICA.  67 

mons*  In  all  other  topics  I  feel  a  vanity  and  unimportance,  which 
disgusts  me  when  I  am  writing  to  you.  But  I  cannot  be  soon 
weary  of  reminding  you  and  myself  of  our  obligations  to  die  Au* 
thor  of  all  ^ood,for  our  distinguished  lot  May  a  grateful  sense 
of  bis  mercies  be  mutual !  May  it  engage  us  in  such  a  course,  that 
death  itself  may  not  separate  iis  long  ;  but  that  we  may  have  a 
well-grounded  hope  of  meeting  in  a  state,  when  the  recollection 
of  our  highest  endearments  while  here,  which  are  surely  the  high- 
est pleasure  this  world  can  afford,  shall,  by  our  own  confession, 
be  but  a  small  thing  compared  with  the  abounding  joys  to  which 
we  shall  then  be  admitted;  and  when  we  may  have  reason, 
through  eternal  ages,  to  bless  the  divine  providential  hand  that 
first  brought  us  together. 


JVovemfter  K). 

1  HAVE  been  walking  the  deck  very  pleasandy.  It  is  my 
watch,  for  the  ship  is  under  sail.  These  silent  night  hours,  when 
the  weather  is  fair,  are,  tome,  the  most  agreeable  part  of  the  voy- 
age :  for  in  the  day-time,  the  heat  of  the  sun,  the  smc^e  of  me 
furnace,  and  the  hurry  of  trade,  are  a  little  troublesome  ;  I  me^Xk 
they  would  be  so,  did  not  the  thoughts  of  you  interpose  to  enliven 
the  scene.  But  when  the  sun  is  set,  the  fires  out,  and  all  bwt  (he 
watch  are  asleep,  1  can  enjoy  myself  without  disturbance,  I 
have  a  set  of  favourite  themes  to  muse  upon,  which  are  always  at 
hand,  and  cannot  be  easily  exhausted.  Sometimes  I  mminyate  up- 
on what  is  past ;  at  others,  anticipate  what  I  hope  is  to  come. 
And  sometimes  I  look  round  me  and  reflect  how  God  has  been 
pleased  to  distinguish  me,  in  his  providence,  i|p^pnly  from  the 
crowds,  whose  miseries  and  sufferings  are  obvious,  but  even  fitMn 
the  most  of  those  whi^  suppose  themselves,  and  would  persuade 
others,  that  they  are  happy^  But  so  scanty  are  the  general  no- 
tions of  earthly  happiness,  compared  with  mine,  that  I  doubt  not 
there  are  thousands  in  possession  of  great  ^utward  advantaees, 
who  yet,  in  their  brightest  intervals,  never  felt  half  of  the  saiisnc- 
tion  which  at  this  moment  warms  my  heart ;  though  now  it  10  a 
time  of  trial  and  exercise  with  me,  oeing  removed  a  third  of  the 
globe  lirom  the  only  treasure  I  have,  or  wish  for,  upon  the  surface 
of  it. 

It  is-  now  a  twelvemonth  since  we  met,  .after  the  lon^  absence 
of  my  last  voyage.    The  recollection  of  that  hour  ^yessie^a 

rleasure  which  neither  time  nor  distance  can  impair*  And  whw 
reflect,  that  I  may  hope,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  to  be  &vo«red 
with  such  another,  I  can  smile  at  all  the  little  incidental  diffionltifiS 
that  may  stand  between  m.    Not  that  I  have  jreasen  tp  think  so 


60  LETTERS    TO   A    WIFE. 

highly  of  that  one  particular  day  ;  it  has  only  the  merit  of  bein^ 
an  introduction  to  the  many  which  followed.  For  when  I  am  with 
you,  I  know  little  difference  of  days,  except  between  the  first  and 
the  last.     These  are  very  different  indeed  ! 


Cape  Mount,  J^ovember  20. 
It  has  been  out  of  my  power  to  write  of  late.  A  part  of  the 
time  I  was  on  shore  ;  and  the  rest,  indispensably  engaged.  But 
my  prayers,  and  warmest  affection  for  you,  have  found  a  place 
in  every  waking  hour.  1  have  made  no  great  progress  in  trade 
as  yet,  but  as  I  am  in  good  health,  and  mercifully  preserved  from 
heavy  troubles,  I  am  content  and  thankful ;  and  doubt  not  of  do- 
ing well  at  last,  by  the  blessing  of  Him  who  has-been  with  me 
hitherto.  Were  I  master  of  the  whole  coast  of  Africa,  I  would 
part  with  it  to  procure  you  the  same  eround  and  degree  of  peace 
which,  I  possess  myself ;  and  I  am  willing  to  hope  that  you  are, 
by  this  time,  not  far,  if  at  all,  behind  me  ;  for  if  you  seek  it  in  the 
path  I  recommend  to  you,  I  am  as  sure  you  will  find  it  as  I  am 
that  it  is  to  be  found  no  where  else.  Were  I  to  confine  my 
thoughts  to  the  dark  side  of  human  life,  and  reckon  up,  not  only 
the  evils  attendant  on  my  present  situation,  but  the  numberless 
calamities  to  which  the  smoothest  state  on  this  side  the  grave  is 
exposed,  I  should  be  always  in  fear,  both  for  you  and  for  myself. 
But  when  I  consider  that  the  Most  High  is  on  our  side,  that  he  is 
all-sufficient — ^that  we  have  already  had  innumerable  proofs  of  his 
goodness  to  us — ^and  that  his  promise  runs,  To  him  that  hath^ 
shall  be  given — then  every  disagreeable  prospect  vanishes. 


Mana,  December  1. 
^  This  d&y  has  been  devoted  to  serious  thoughts.  I  have  had 
,  Mr.  T****  on  board  with  me  a  month  ;  which,  in  one  respect, 
was  no  small  inconvenience,  by  breaking  in  upon  my  usual  times 
of  retirement.  As  I  expected  this  would  be  a  day  of  leisure,  I 
resolved  last  night,  to  dedicate  it  to  Him  to  whom  I  owe  my  all. 
1  find,  by  repeated  experience,  that  it  is  impossible  to  serve  him 
for  nought.  1  who  was  yesterday  fluctuating  and  unsettled,  am  now 
composed  and  happy.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  me  that,  in  consistence 
with  my  plan,  I  can  let  you  have  your  hour  too ;  and  write  a  let- 
ter, which  you  will  accept,  in  a  religious  strain. 

I  spent  the  forenoon  chiefly  in  a  review  of  the  various  mercies  I 
have  received,  the  long  list  of  my  deliverances,  enjoyments,  and 
comforts. — ^The  afternoon  was  employed  in  making  known  my 


SECOND   VOYAGE   TO   AFRICA.  69 

requests,  anci  submitting  my  views,  designs,  and  hopes,  to  the  dis- 
posal of  my  heavenly  Father,  whose  wisdom  and  goodness  are,  I 
trust,  engaged  for  me.  In  these  exercises — oh !  how  I  remember 
you  !  My  nrst  acknowledgments  are  for  your  love,  and  that  you 
are  mine,  when  I  attempt  to  enumerate  the.  blessings  pertaining  to 
this  life  ;  and  my  first  desire  is  for  a  hedrt  to  value  them.  My 
prayers  for  you  are,  for  your  health,  peace,  and  satisfaction,  while 
we  are  separated,  and  for  our  happy  meeting  ;  but,  above  all,  for 
your  progress  in  religipn,  and  that  you  may  have  a  prospect  of 
happiness,  independent  of  all  earthly  comforts,  and  superior  to 
them*  So  disinterested  is  my  love,  that  I  often  earnestly  pray 
you  may,  by  grace,  be  prevented  irom  making  too  much  account 
of  any  thin^  on  this  side  the  grave,  not  excepting  mjself*  For 
though  I  value  your  affection  beyond  crowns  and  empires,  I  trem- 
ble at  the  thought  of  being  over  regarded,  or  that  you  should 
wholly  rest  your  peace  upon  such  a  wretched,  feeble  prop,  as  I 
am.  A  love  with  all  our  heart,  and  mind,  and  soul,  and  strength, 
(such,  1  fear,  ours  has  too  much  been  to  ^ch.  other,)  can  be  only 
due  ta our  Maker  and  great  Benefactor.  I  mention  this,  because 
I  have  found  it  hard  to- distinguish  in  this  matter.  A  long  time  it 
was  before  I  durst  appeal  to  my  conscience,  that  I  did  not  behold 
you  with  a  regard  which  belongs  only  to  God.  And  even  to  this 
clay,  I  fear  my  heart  deceives  me.  But  I  am  endeavouring  to 
avoid  this  en*or,  no  less  for  your  sake  than  for  my  own ;  lest  I 
should  provoke  him  to  wound  me  in  the  most  sensible  part,  and  to 
afflict  you,  for  my  punishment.  »         ^ 

I  hope  you  will  not  misunderstand  me,  as  if  I  thought  I  loved 
you,  or  could  love  you,  too  much,  (that  one  necessary  exception 
only  excepted*)  You  may  be  assured  that  my  love  (especially 
when  thus  limited)  is  incapable  of  change,  and  always  upon  the 
increase.  Whatever  may  be  expected  on  my  side,  from  a  temper 
naturally  susceptive  of  tenderness,  and  from  the  many  inexpressi* 
ble  endearments  and  obligations  1  have  received  from  you,  non^ 
of  which  are  lost  or  forgotten  by  mc,  I  feel  at  this  moment,  and 
trust  I  shall  always  feel,  while  I  can  subscribe  myself 

Yours,  &c. 


Cape  Moun^t  December  25. 
I  NOW  sit  down  to  wish  you  a  happy  Christmas  ;  a  merry  one  is 
a  frequent  phrase,  but  that  falls  far  short  of  my  desire.  For  I 
have  often  found  mirth  and  happiness  to  be  two  very  different 
^  things  ;  and  that  either  of  them,  when  prevalent  in  a  great  degree, 
is  inconsistent  with  the  other.  My  heart  is  warm  with  the  recol- 
lection of  many  endeared  hours  passed  with  you,  when  my  happi- 


70  ^  LETTERS    TO  A   WJrE« 

ness  has  been,  for  the  time,  complete,  and  yet  I  have  not  then 
/elt  the  least  inclination  to  be  merry ;  and  I  have  often  been  for- 
ced into  a  laugh,  when  I  have  not  been  pleased. 

This  has  been  a  serious  day  with  me  ;  and,  after  what  I  have 
written  already,  I  need  not  attempt  to  say  how  much  you  have 
been  concerned  in  it/'  It  grieves  me  to  thmk  that  this  is  usually 
a  season  of  festivity  and  dissipation.  Surely  they  who  think  pro- 
per to  notice  it  at  all,  should  show  their  attention  in  a  different 
manner.  If  we  are  really  Christians,  and  do  indeed  believe  the 
tenour  of  the  Scriptures,  with  what  serious  thankfulness,  and  joy- 
ful composure,  ought  we  to  c9mmemorate  the  coming  of  a  Saviour 
into  the  world  ?  If  the  Jittle  eood  offices  we  perform  to  each  other 
demand  a  grateful  return,  what  do  we  owe  to  Him,  who,  of  his 
own  free  motion  and  goodness,  humbled  himself  so  far,  and  suf- 
fered so  much,  to  redeem  us  from  extreme  and  endless  misery  ? 
Oh .!  my  dearest  M***,  it  is  a  most  certain  truth,  that  if  he  had 
not  pitied  us,  we  must  have  been  for  ever  wretched.  And  If  we 
continue  to  neglect  hidi  now,  our  misery  will  be  aggravated  by 
the  refusal  of  the  sure  and  only  mean  of  relief.  And,  however  a 
round  and  scries  of  what  the  world  miscalls  pleasure,,  may  stifle 
uneasy  thoughts  for  a  lime,  they  will  at  leneth  awake,  to  the  con- 
fusion of  ail  who  despise  this  mercy,  and  die  impenitent.  My 
subject  has  almost  made  me  forget  I  am  writing  to  you.  For, 
blessed  be  God  !  I  hope  we  are  not  like  them.  1  trust  we  both 
desire  to  be^wisc  in  time,  and  to  apply  to  the  Giver  of  all  grace, 
for  4hat  sufficiency  which  of  ourselves  we  cannot  attain.  And  if 
we  ask,  we  undoubtedly  shall  succeed.  This  hope  fills  my  mouth 
with  prais.e,  since  I  now  sec  a  plain  and  secure  path  to  eternal 
happmess,  not  for  myself  only,  but  for  you  likewise,  whose  wel- 
fare, if  I  mistake  not,  is  little  less  dear  to  me  than  that  of  mv  own 
soul.  I  find,  as  Solomon  says,  that  love  is  stronger  than  death  : 
for  my  regard  for*you  often  leads  my  views  beyond  the  grave, 
and  alleviates  the  thought,  that  we  must  sooner  or  later  be  separa- 
ted here,  with  the  prospect  of  being  joined  hereafter,  upon  much 
preferable  terms  ;  where  our  love  will  be  refined  and  ennobled, 
and  the  consciousness  of  our  being  mutually  and  for  ever  happy, 
will  fill  us  with  a  joy  of  which  we  have  no  present  conception  ; 
and  yet,  perhaps,  this  joy  will  be  among  the  least  in  that  happy 
state. 


1753. 

Mana^  January  12. 
•  Were  it  not  for  the  late  alteration  of  the  style,  this  would  be 
new-year's  day.    It  is  with  a  pleasing  kind  of  regret  I  remember 


SECOND    VOTAGE    TO   AFRICA.     ^  7^ 

how  happily  I  began  the  last  year,  and  how  happy  I  continued 
for/  just  six  months  aftei*wards.  The  latter  half  of  the  year  has 
been  of  a  different  colour  ;  for  though  I  have,  even  now,  much  to 
be  thankful  for,*  I  am  absent  from  you..  A  seafaring  life  has  its 
peculiar  trials  and  difficulties,  and  the  Guinea  trade,  perhaps, 
has  more  than  any  other.  But  if  I  must  be  detained  from  you  for 
a  season,  I  am  as  well  here  as  elsewhere  ;  for  to  live  without  you, 
constitutes  the  very  essence  of  Guinea  to  me,  so  far  as  the  word 
expresses  a  disagreeable  situation  ;  and  1  hope  and  believe  I  should 
find  myself  as  much  at  a  loss,  and  sigh  as  often  for  something  bet- 
ter, if]  lived  in  the  palace  of  Versailles,  and  could  call  it  my  own, 
uales  you  were  with  me.  But  when  I  direct  my  thoughts  forward, 
to  the  prospect  of  being  restored  to  you  again,  the  scene  changes 
at  once,  and  I  seem  to  be  at  Versailles  already. 

It  may  be  said  that  my  hopes  are  precarious,  and  may  be  dis- 
appointed. But  here  religion  comes  to  faiy  aid,  and  tells  me  that 
my  best  interest,  though  apparently  contingent,  is  in  effect  firm  as 
a  rock ;  being  supported  by  Him  whose  wisdomj  power,  and 
goodness  are  infinite ;  who  cannot  but  be  present  with  me  in  all 
difficulties  and  dangers ;  who  knows  our  weaknesses  and  our 
wants,  and  has  promised  to  relieve  and  supply  them.  My  own 
experience  has  convinced  me  a  tlionsand  times,  that  his  promise 
-is  snre.  Here  is  my  refuge  and  comfort.  Every  other  expedi-» 
ent  would  fail  me  in  somfi  tender  hours,  when  I  think  of  home ; 
but  in  the  trust  I  have  just  mentioned  1  find  repose  when,  seem- 
ingly, most  destitute  and  forlorn.  My  prayers  are  frequent,  that 
you,  like  me,  may  always  derive  comfort  from  the  same  considera- 
tions. 


Mana,  January  26 i 
Though  to  be  absent  from  you  is  the  chief  part  of  my  trial,  it 
is  not  the  whole.  In  this  unhappy  country,  I  am  in  the  midst  of 
scenes,  not  only  inferior,  but  opposite  to  those  which  are  hisepa- 
rable  from  your  company.  But  from  being  much  among  a  people 
who  are  so  far  from  possessing  such  mercies  as  I  am  favoured 
with,  that  they  are  unable  to  form  a  conception  of  them,  1  may 
learn  a  lesson  of  gratitude ;  since  the  least  pleasing  part  of  my 
life  is  such,  as  still  to  leave  me  room  to  pity  millions  of  my  fellow- 
creatures.  The  three  greatest  blessings  of  which  human  nature  ^ 
is  capable,  are  undoubtedly  religion,  liberty,  and  love.  In  each 
of  these,  how  highly  has  God  distinguished  me !  But  here  are 
whole  nations  around  me,  whose  languages  are  entirely  different 
from  each  other,  yet  I   believe  they  all  agree  in  this,  that  they 


7*2  ^  LETTERS  TO  A  Wlti. 

havjs  no  words  among  them  expressive  of  these  engaging  .ideas  ; 
from  whence  I  infer,  that  t^ie  ideas  themselves  have  no  place  in 
their  minds^  And  as  there  is  no  medium  between  light  and  dark- 
ness, these  poor  creatures  4ire  not  only  strangers  to*the  advantages 
which  I  enjoy,  but  are  pitinged  in  9II  the  contrary  evils.  Instead 
of  the  present  blessings,  and  bright  future  prospects  of  Christian- 
ity, they  are  deceived  and  harrassed  by  necromancy,  magic,  and 
all  the  train  of  superstitions  that  fear,  combined  with  ignorance, 
can  produce  in  the  human  mind.  The  only  liberty  of  which  they 
have  any  notion,  is  an  exemption  from  being  sold  ;  and  even  from 
this,  very  few  are  perfectly  secure  that  it  shall  not,  some  time  or 
other,  be  their  lot ;  for  it  often  happens,  that  the  man  who 
sells  another  on  board  a  ship,  is  himself  bought  and  sold,  in  the 
same  manner,  and  perhaps  in  the  same  vessel,  before  the  week  is 
ended.*  As  for  love,  theje  may  be  some  softer  souls  among  them 
than  I  have  met  with,  but  for  the  most  part,  when  I  have  tried  to 
explain  this  delightful  word,  I  have  seldom  been  in  the  least  un- 
derstood ;  and  when  I  have  spoken  of  its  effects  Ihave  never  been 
believed.  To  tell  them  of  the  inexpressible  and  peculiar  attrac- 
tion between  kindred  minds ;  the  pain^  of  absence,  the  pleasures 
of  a  re-meeting,  (if  I  may  make  a  word,)  and  all  the  other  endear- 
ments (were  it  lawful,  or  possible,  to  name  them,)  which  I  owe 
to  you,  would  be  labour  lost ;  like  describing  the  rainbow  to  a 
man  born  blind.  What  needs  all  this  ado  ?  they  have  said,  Will 
not  one  woman  cut  wood  and  fetch  water,,  as  well  as  another  ? 
Their  passions  are  strong  ;  but  few,  indeed,  have  any  notion  of 

*  The  reader  may  perhaps  wonder,  as  I  now  do  myself,  that  knowing  the 
state  of  the  vile  traffic  to  be  as  I  have  here  described,  and  abounding  with  enor- 
mities which  I  have  not  mentioned,  I  did  not,  at  the  time,  start  with  horror  at 
my  own  employment,  as  an  agent  in  promoting  it.  Custom,  example,  and  in- 
terest, had  blinded  my  eyes.  I  did  it  i^noranily  ;  for,  1  am  sure,  had  I  thought 
of  the  slave-trade  tlien,  as  I  have  thnut^ht  of  it  since,  no  considerations  would 
have  induced  me  to  continue  in  it.  Though  my  religious  views  were  not  very 
clear,  my  conscience  was  very  tender,  and  1  durst  not  have  displeased  God  by 
acting  against  the  light  ofrny  mind.  Indeed,  a  slave-ship,  while  upon  the 
coast,  is  exposed  to  such  innumerable  and  continual  dangers,  that  I  w.is  often 
then,  and  siill  am,  astonished  that  any  one,  much  more  so  many,  should  leavo 
the  coast  in  safety.  I  was  then  favoured  with  an  uncommon  degree  of  depen- 
dence upon  the  providence  of  God,  which  supported  me  ;  but  this  confidence 
must  have  failed  in  a  moment,  and  I  would  have  been  overwhelmed  wjth  dis- 
tress and  terror,  if  I  had  known,  or  even  suspected,  that  I  was  actirfg  wrong.  I 
felt  the  disagreeableness  of  the  business  very  strongly.  The  office  of  a  gaoler, 
and  the  restraints  under  which  I  was  forced  to  keep  my  prisioners,  were  not 
•suitable  to  my  feelings:  but  I  considered  it  as  the  line  of  Ufe  which  God,  in  hU 
providence,  had  allotted  me ;  and  as  a  cross  which  I  ought  to  bear  with  pa- 
tience and  thankfulness,  till  he  should  be  pleased  to  deliver  me  from  it.  Till 
then  I  only  thought  myself  bound  to  treat  the  glaves  under  my  care  with  gentle- 
ness, and  to  consult  their  ease  and  convenience,  as  far  as  was  consistent  with 
the  safety  of  the  whole  faoijly  of  \yhites  and  blacks  on  board  my  &hip. 


SECOND  VOTAOE  Td  AFRICA.  73 

what  I  mean  by  tenderness.  While  I  am  writing,  many  ptast  circiim* 
stances  occur  to  my  memory,  and  my  heart  swells  at  the  odious 
comparison  I  have  unawares  made. 

I  have  heard  England  styled  the  paradise  of  women  ;  but  sure- 
ly, in  this  respect,  it  is  no  less  the  paradise  of  men  likewise  :  for 
there,  perhaps  they  best  understand  the  means  of  their  own  happi* 
ness,  and  of  how  much  importance  it  is  to  form  a  right  judgment 
of  the  dignity  and  value  of  your  sex  ;  which,  whoever  attains, 
thereby  indicates  that  he  possesses  some  degree  of  dignity  in 
himself.  In  saying  this,  to  be  sure,  I  sound  my  own  praise,  but 
you  will  excuse  me. 


Shebar^  March  6. 

It  is  often  remarked,  that  advice  is  more  easily  given  than  fol- 
lowed. 1  have  of  late,  and  perhaps  sometimes  too  officiously, 
taken  occasion  to  prescribe  patience,  wiien  I  have  seen  people  un« 
easy  under  a  scene  of  what  we  call  disappointments,  and  want  of 
success.  Providence  seems  at  length  to  put  me  to  the  trial,  how 
far  the  arguments  I  have  used  with  others  will  have  influence  upon 
myself.  I  h:^^  been  now  near  seven  months  upon  the  coast,  and 
am  yet  unable  to  judge  when  I  shall  probably  leave  it,  and  must 
expect  to  make  a  loosing  voyage  at  last.  I  should  not  write  so 
frankly,  but  that  I  hope  to  be  in  a  better  place,  an^  upon  a  great- 
er certainty  before  I  send  my  letter  home.  .  But  I  am  willing  to 
give  you  my  present  thoughts,  that  you  may  judge,  once  for  all, 
how  I  am  supported  when  things  do  not  answer  my  wishes. 

The  interest  of  my  employers,  and  ray  long  confinement  from 
yon,  are  two  points  to  which  I  cannot  be  indifferent.  I  hope  I 
never  shall,  for  then  I  must  be  ungrateful  or  insensible,  either  of 
which  appears  more  terrible  to  me  than  any  outward  evils.  Bu( 
then  my  concern  ought  to  be  no  more  than  is  necessary  to  excite 
me  to  make  the  most  of  what  lies  before  me.  As  I  cannot  charge 
myself  with  neglect,  or  any  considerable  false  step,  though  I  am 
sorry  to  be  the  occasion  of  loss  to  my  friends,  the  thought  shouM 
not  break  my  peace,  if  I  am  conscious  of  having  doqo  my  best. 

As  to  what  concerns  myself;  how  far  two  unsuccessful  Koy-^ 
ages  may  affect  my  interest,  or  diminish  my  expected  profits,  I 
am  tolerably  easy.  I  have  placed  my  dependence  higher  :  I 
consider  my  friends  ^nd  employers  as  instruments  in  the  hand  of 
God  for  my  good.  He  can  continue  them  to  me,  or  raise  me  up 
belter  with  equal  eajse.  As  to  money,  you  know  my  thoughts  of 
it.  In  itself,  and  as  an  end,  it  is  of  no  value;  but  of  use,  as  s^ 
mean  of  procuring  the  conveniences  of  life  ;  and  therefore  I  am 

Vol.  ;V.  '  10  * 


74  IiETTlUIS   TO   A  WIVK. 

wilKog  tD  embrace  any  honourable  ternis  for  procuring  a  compe- 
tency 1  but  still,  without  solicitude,  I  have  enough  for  the  pre- 
sent ;  and  the  promise  of  God  warrants  me  to  hope  for  what  he» 
sees  needful  for  me  in  time  to  come. 

In  this  manner  I  reasen  against  ray  first  grievance,  which  is. 
■either  so  pressing,  nor  so  constantly  upon  my  mind  as  the  other 
—-my  long  separation  from  you.  Money  matters  affisct  me  but 
occasionally,  and  I  can  relieve  myself  by  employments  or  amuse- 
ments ;  but  yoar  idea  is  before  me  at  all  times  and  in  all  places. 
You  are  with  me  in  retirement,  aD<)  go  with  me  into  company  r 
neither  business  nor  relaxation,  neither  hurry  nor  indolence,  can 
lude  you  from  my  thoughts.  Every  thing  I  see,  equally  reminds, 
me  that  you  are  absent  ;  and  now  the  season  is  drawing  near 
when  we  hoped  to  meet;  and  yet  to  be  still  deferred.  However, 
against  this  uneasiness  I  have  some  remedies,  which  never  wholly 
fail  me.  I  heivc  often  repealed  them  to  you  :  I  think  of  your  love, 
and  that  1  am  here  for  your  sake.  I  recollect  the  past,  I  antici- 
pate the  future,  and  am  satisfied*  I  consider  likewise  the  bene- 
fits I  am  favoured  with  even  now ;  my  health,  my  preservation,, 
aod  protection,  while  surrounded  with  impending  dangers,, 
whether  on  ship-board  or  on  shore  ;  and  when  I  join  to  these  the 
thought  of  my  own  unworthiness,  and  small  improvement  of  my 
mercies,  and  my  blindness  and  inability  to  choose  (was  it  even 
permitted  me)  what  is  really  best,  upon  the  whole,  for  myself  (St 
for  yoti,  I  have  pot  a  word  to  say.  Instead  of  complaining,  t 
ought  to  abound  in  praise.  My  chief  trouble  is  from  a  fear  lest 
yoa  should  not  have  the  sam«  resignation  to  the  will  of  God. 
Excuse  this  doubt,  my  dearest ;  I  know  your  temper  is  tender 
and  apprehensive  ;  and  I  know  (and  I  am  not  ungrateful)  that  you 
feel  much  for  me*  Though  I  value  your  love  more  than  a  thou- 
sand kingdoms,  I  could  alipost  wish  to  possess  it  in  a  degree  more 
consistent  with  your  quiet.  It  is  well  the  paper  is  full,  that  I  caa 
add  no  more,  perhaps  I  might  contradict  myself  upon  the  spot,  for 
my  last  assertion.  How  could  I  bear  that  you  should  love 
me  Iqss  than  you  do  I 


Sierra  Leone^  March  23v 
Sometimes,  in  travelling,  when  I  have  met  with  two  or  three 
different  roads,  and  have  not  been  sure  which  was  the  right,  I 
fattVe  deliberated  a  little,  and  then  gravely  taken  the  wrong  :  so  it 
often  happens  in  my  writing  to  you.  When  I  beat  the  bush  of 
my  brains  for  a  subject,  1  start  so  many  that  I  know  not  which  to- 
fbllow  y  and  at  last  perhaps,  choose  that  which  I  am  the  least  able 


SCOdtlB  VHTAGft  TO  A»IttGA.  7i 

lo  maiiage.  I  have  been  sitting  id  a  wise  suspense,  wheAer  t 
shoald  try  to  divert,  or  advise,  or  tliaiik  you.  I  am  awakened  at 
the  first ;  the  second,  if  oeedAil,  (for  I  would  not  pay  you  a  false 
compliment,)  is  difficult  for  me  to  perform  rightly  ;  and  the  third 
I  have  almost  worn  threadbare,  though  I  have  never  expressed 
the  half  of  my  meaning.  Then  for  other  things,  one  day  here  is 
so  like  another,  that  there  hardly  arises  a  new  incident  in  a  month ; 
which,  by  the  bye,  demands  my  acknowledgment ;  for  life  is 
usnally  chequered  with  many  events  which,  when  well  managed 
by  an  impatient  temper,  may  furnish  whole  sheets,  yea,  quires  of 
complaints.  And  as  nothing  extraordinary  occurs  in  my  own 
iiistory,  neither  do  I  hear  of  any  thing  interesting  among  the  natives 
— politics  or  scandal  have  little  place  in  this  country  : — under 
these  circumstances  I  am  hard  put  to  it  to  write  any  thing ;  and  this 
difficulty*  I  have  made  so  oAen,  not  only  an  excuse,  tut  a  sub- 
ject, that  I  am  tired  of  that  likewise.  But,  as  when  a  man  is 
thoroughly  hungry,  he  will  eat  what  would  once  have  seemed 
hard  fare  ;  60jM||er  than  forego  the  pleasure  of  wriUng  to  you, 
i  make  shift  v^lPKiy  thing  that  will  serve  ta  fill  up  the  papejc 


Bence  Island,  March  30. 
I  AM  HOW  at  the  factory,  in  the  river  of  Sierra  Leone.  We  are 
at  length  preparing  for  sea,  and  I  hope  to  find  all  in  readiness 
when  I  return  from  Sherbro,  where  I  purpose  going  to-morrow^ 
in  the  long  boat^  to  finish  my  business  in  that  river,  and  ho^  to  be 
>back  in  about  a  fortnight.  Therefore,  as  it  will  be  some  tina 
before  I  can  wrifeto  you,  I  would  not  omit  to-night,  though  we 
are  very  busy.  I  hope  this  will  be  the  last  cruize  I  shall  n^ake  this 
voyage.  I  have  had  so  many,  that  I  should  be  almost  weary,  did 
i  not  consider  that  yoar  interest  leads  me,  and  that  your  Idve  will, 
I  hope,  in  due  time,  pay  me  for  my  trouble. 


Bence  Island,  April  !0» 
St  the  mercy  of  God,  I  am  returned  safe  and  well  from  my 
voyage  in  the  long-boat,  without  meeting  any  harm,  though  not 
without  some  fatigue  ;  but  that  is  always  welcome  for  y^ur  sake. 
No  one  here  can  guess,  by  my  looks  or  behaviour,  how  much  of 
wy  heart  is  in  another  quarter  of  the  world.  In  short,  yoo  w*ou1d 
not  yourself  desire  that  I  should  bear  your  absence  better  than  I 
do  ;  yea,  I  fear,  if  you  could  see  me  you  would  suspect  me  of  in- 
difiereoce.     But  I  shoold  beg  you  to  take  tny  word,  rather  tbM 


7^  LETTERS    TO   A   WIVH* 

jucke  by  appearances.  I  hope  to  be,  in  a  few  days,  on  my  way 
to  &e  West  Indies,  whither  my  thoughts  have  often  gone  before, 
me,  in  expectation  of  finding  letters  from  you,  which,  next  to  youv 
company,  is  the  greatest  pleasure  I  can  think  of.  Let  those  be 
pleased  with  letters-patent' who  can  be  satisfied  with  honours  and 
riches :  if  I  do  not  absolutely  despise  these  things,  I  can  pro* 
pounce  them  trifles  when  compared  with  the  satisfactions  of  mu- 
tual love,  which  so  far  resemble  the  joys  of  a  good  conscience, 
that  nothing  adventitious  can  either  give  them  or  take  them  away* 
They  who  possess  an  affluence  of  all  other  temporal  good,  if  de- 
void of  this  generous  tenderness,  are  in  my  view,  objects  of  pity. 
I  speak,  as  St.  Paul  says,  after  the  manner  of  men  ;  for  notwith- 
standing all  my  encomiums  upon  love,  I  hold  it  to  be  very  dange- 
rous, and  indeed  destructive,  unless  regulated  and  governed  by  a 
due  sense  of  religion. 


Sence  ifSM,  Jtpril  19. 
I  HAVE  been  happy  this  evening,  in  a  solfll^  ramble  round 
this  island.  I  studiously  avoided  all  company,  and  chose  a  reti- 
red walk,  where  I  could  vent  ray  thoughts  aloud,  without  fear  of 
being  overheard.  The  night  was  perfectly  fine  and  serene,  and 
I  Was' favoured  with  a  frame  of  mind  that  I  cannot  always  com- 
mand. The  ship  was  in  sight  at  a  smalt  distance,  which  gave  the 
first  turn  to  my  meditations.  My  tboughts  went  back  to  the  time 
when  I  first  saw  her  upon  the  stocks  in  the  builder's  yard  ;  and 
fi*om  thence  led  me  to  review  the  different  scenes  in  which  I  have 
keen  engaged  since  I  left  Liverpool ;  which  furnished  me  with  so 
many  instances  of  a  kind  preserving  Providence,  that  I  was,  in  a 
remark^le  manner,  emboldened  and  encouraged  to  recommend 
the  rest  of  the  voyage  to  the  same  gracious  protection.  May  I 
never  forget  this  night !  I  could  not  be^  long  in  the  exercise  of 
prayer  and  praise,  without  interesting  you  largely  in  it ;  and  I 
thiii  I  never  prayed  more  earnestly  for  myself,  than  1  have  to- 
night for  you.  I  am  now  quite  easy  and  composed,  which  is  the 
nearest  approach  to  happiness  that  1  desire  in  this  world,  when  I 
am  not  with  you. 


PlantanfiSj  April  25. 

Accept  this  letter  as  a  proof*  that,  in  the  midst  of  company  and 

business,  I  am  still  thinking  of  you.     I  write,  and  talk,  and  trade 

M  the  same  time.     I  am  ixow  to  inform  you,  that  I  am  just  fmish- 

ing,  and  hope  to  sail  this^  night,  or  to-morrow  morning,  for  St. 


fli^COND  V0YA616    TO   AFRICA.  77' 

Christapher's.  I  completed  eight  months  upon  the  coast  yester- 
day ;  in  which  time  I  have  witnessed  a  variety  of  scenes,  and  have 
ofte^  been  upon  the  brink  of  apparent  danger,  but  am  preserved 
in  health  and  safety  hitherto.  If  I  call  my  long  stay  a  disappoint 
ment,  I  would  remember,  that  former  disappointments,  by  the 
over-ruling  providence  and  goodness  of  God,  haveproved,  \n  the 
event,  to  my  advantage  ;  and  I  trust  it  will  be  so  still.  Thu«  I 
often  preach  to  you,  and  you  will  not  wonder,  that  having  yotor 
peace  of  mind  more  at  heart  than  any  thing  that  can  be  named,  I 
should  be  freauently  inculcating  what  I  believe,  yea,  what  I  am 
very  sure,  will  be  most  conducive  to  it.  If  you  could  form  a 
judgment  of  the  numberless  escapes  and  deliverances  I  met  with 
last  voyage,  I  think  you  would  never  fear  for  me  again.  1  have 
©ow  a  better  ship  and  ship'^s  company,  and  am  better  provided 
than  then.  I  leave  this  with  a  large  packet  enclosed,  to  go  by  a 
vessel  which  is  expected  to  sail,  in  about  three  weeks,  directly  for 
England,  and  will  probably  arrive  there  before  you  can  hear  of 
mp  from  the  West  Indies. 


At  Sea,  May  4. 

fp  I  can  contrive  any  thing  to  say,  I  hope  now  to  be  more  regu*- 
lar  in  my  correspondence  ;  for  1  have  left  the  greater  part  of  the 
cares  and  troubles,  which  used  to  divide  my  thoughts  and  timey 
behind  me  in  Africa.  I  am  now  about  three  hundred  miles  on- 
my  way  to  St.  Kitt's,  and  hope  to  get  the  trade-wind  soon,  which 
will  be  fair  for  the  rest  of  the  passage. 

I  lately  enclosed  you  four  sheets,  which  bring  the  history  of  my 
voyage  down  to  the  12th  of  February.  I  have  sent  you  twelve 
in  all,  by  different  conveyances,  besides  their  covers,  which  were 
not  blank  paper.  For  all  this,  I  charge  your  account,  as  the  mer- 
chants say  ;  or  rather  I  acknowledge  myself  still  your  debtor  for 
the  favourable  reception  1  know  they  will  find,  and  which  they 
are  no  further,  entitled  to,  than  as  proofs  of  an  inclination  td 
please.  If  there  is  merit  in  that,  I  shall  not  aiiect  so  much  mod- 
esty as  to  disclaim  it :  for  it  is  the  business  and  glory  of  my  life, 
to  endeavour  to  act  up  to  those  professions  which  first  induced 
you  to  confide  in  me.  My  mind  runs  so  much  upon  the  wished- 
for  pleasure  of  letters  from  you  when  I  arrive  at  St.  Kitt's,  that  I 
often  dream  I  have  them  in  my  hand,  and  when  awake  am  often 
dictating  for  you  ;  and  by  reading  those  I  have  already  received, 
I  can  make  shrewd  guesses  how  kind  and  good  you  will  appear 
in  those  which  are  yet  to  come.  But  when  I  have  done  my  best, 
I  persuade  myself  that  I  shall  find,  as  I  have  usually  done  in  all  re- 
lating to  you,  that  my  expectations  will  not  only  be  answered,  but 
exceeded; 


78  XETtMS   TO  A   Wt^B* 


At  Seaj  May  7. 
I  WAS  sensibly  disappointed  in  missing  the  letter  you  mention 
obliging  me  with  by  a  ship  from  LondorK  I  should  have  found 
in  that  some  particuiars  of  your  long  journey.  How  gladly  would 
I  have  prevented  yoti  the  inconvenience  of  that  long  anci  lonely 
journey,  if  performine  it  for  you  myself  on  foot  could  have  done 
It.  As  it  was,  1  coddonly  attend  you  with  my  thoughts  and  pray- 
ers. How  much  am  I  indebted  to  the  divine  goodness  for  resto*> 
ring  you  home  in  safety  and  peace  !  The  mention  of  footing  it, 
reminds  me  of  my  solitary  walk  to  Liverpool  in  the  year  1748* 
Solitary  indeed  it  was  then  ;  but  could  I  have  known  that  the  time 
was  coming  when  you  would  accompany  me  on  the  same  road,  I 
should  have  thought  it  pleasant,  in  defiance  of  heat,  dust,  and  fa- 
tigue%  But  my  only  business  at  London,  which  was  with  you,  [ 
left  unfinished  :  I  was  short  of  money,  destitute  of  friends,  without 
prospect  of  a  livelihood  for  myself,  and  still  more  of  having  It  in 
my  power  to  mate  proposals  to  you  ;  and  therefore  had  nothing 
to  cheer  me.  When  I  recollect  these  dark  seasons,  I  cannot  but 
pause  t(5  wonder  at  the  goodness  of  God,  who  was  even  then 
leading  me,  though  I  neither  knew  him,  nor  the  way  by  which  I 
went.  How  wonderfully  was  every  obstacle  to  our  union  remo- 
ved, and  h«w  happy  has  that  event  been  (I  hope  I  may  say)  to 
vs  both.  I  might  have  proved  a  wretch,  insensiole  ana  ungrate- 
ful, when  i  had  gained  my  point.  Such  I  see  is  the  folly  and  in^* 
constancy  of  many.  But  my  satisfaction  has  been  stiS  upon  the 
increase  ;  and,  so  far  as  happiness  is  attainable  here',  I  think  I 
tiave  known  it,  aild  wrth  as  few  drawbacks,  for  the  time,  as  any 
|)erson  living. 


At  Sea,  May  18. 
We  are  now  about  half  way  to  St.  Christopher's  from  Guinea, 
in  point  of  distance;  and  I  hope  nearer  in  respect  of  time,  as  we 
are  in  the  trade-wind,  which  blows  most  of  the  year  from  the  east- 
ern quarter.  Though  1  count  the  days  and  hours  I  am  from  you, 
my  time  doe^  not  hang  heavy  upon  my  hands  :  a  part  of  it  is  em^ 
ployed,  twice  or  thrice  a  day,  in  praying  for  you  ;  a  part  of  it  in 
reading  and  studying  the  Bible.  The  rest  of  my  leisure  is  divid- 
ed between  readmg,  writing,  and  the  mathematics^  as  my  inclina- 
tion leans.  1  pass  my  verdict  upon  the  actions  of  Caesar,  Pom- 
Fey,  and  twenty  other  hot-headed  heroes  of  antiquity  ;  and  wheft 
reflect  upon  their  mighty  designs,  their  fatigues  and  risks,  and  at 
last  their  disappointments,  even  when  they  attained  the  desired 
object;  1  ask  myself  sometimes,  with»a  smile,  "  What  trifles  are 


SXCOKi^  TOT46B    TO  AFRICA.  79 

these  compared  with  love  ?"  sometimes  with  a  sigh.  ^'  What  trifles 
are  these  compared  with  eternity  ?"  The  latter  question  brings 
my  censure  home  to  myself,  and  forces  me  to  confess,  that  the 

Sreater  part  of  my  own  schemes  and  prospects  are  no  less  vanities 
lan  those  which  I  pity  in  others.  I  am  pleased  with  the  mathe- 
matics, because  there  is  truth  and  certainty  in  them,  which  are 
seldom  found  in  other  branches  of  learning.  Yet  even  in  these,  I 
am  discouraged  ;  for  the  more  I  advance,  the  more  clearly  I  per- 
ceive, that  the  greatest  human  knowledge  amounts  but  to  a  more 
Dompous  proof  of  our  ignorance,  by  showing  us  how  little  we 
Know  of  any  thing,  and  how  many  inquiries  may  be  started,  con- 
cerning which  we  can  know  nothmg*  Then  again,  what  we  can 
attain  requires  so  much  time  and  pains,  that  it  scarely  quits  cost ; 
especially,  as  it  seems  needless  to  toil  for  knowledge  in  this  world, 
under  so  many  disadvantages,  when  possibly,,  beiore  I  have  been 
an  hour  within  the  vail,  I  shall  know  more,  ifttuitivety,  than  my 
namesake.  Sir  Isaac,  had  ever  a  glimpse,  of.  However,  I  still  jog 
on  in  this  road,  partly  to  keep  me  from  idleness,  which  is  the 
source  either  oi  sin  or  disquiet ;  and  partly  because  I  consider 
every  little  improvement  I  can  make  to  be  valuable,  so  far  as  it 
may  enable  me  to  appear  to  more  advantage  in,  the  character  of 
your  husbaiid. 


dt  Sea,  May  28. 

I  EXPECT  that  we  are  now  within  three  or  four  days'  sail  of  our 
port.  Thus  far  we  have  crossed  the  ocean  again  without  trouble 
or  harm. 

I  hope  you  will  derive  encouragement  and  thankfulness  by  re- 
collecting, from  what  you  may  have  heard  or  seen,  how  many 
persons  in  my  way  of  life  have  parted  from  their  families  and 
affections  since  1  left  you,  and  with  no  less  pleasing  prospects  and 
probabilities,  who,  before  this  time,  have  been  cut  off  from  the 
hope  of  a  return.  One  instance  I  shall  mention,  because  1  think 
you  know  the  man,  Mr.  ****,  who  sailed  chief  mate  of  the  Adling- 
ton.  He  had  a  constitution  likely  to  wear  many  years,  a  goocl 
character  and  interest,  and  a  wife  and  family.  He  had  been  mas- 
ter of  a  ship  in  some  home  trade,  but  chose  to  go  as  mate  to 
Guinea,  one  voyage,  to  introduce  himself  into  this  line  of  busi-* 
ness.  His  views  would  probably  have  been  answered,  if  he  had 
lived;  but  he  was  killecl  in  an  insurrection  of  the  slaves  before 
he  had  been  two  months  upon  the  coast* 

If  this  story,  and  many  more  of  the  same  kind,  which  the  com- 
mon news-papers  will  furnish,  should  increase  your  fears  for  me» 
I  shall  be  sorry  ;  and  must  say  the  fhult  would  be  in  yourself.     I 


80  LETTERS    TO   A   WIFE. 

am  still  safe,  though  I  was  liable  to  the  same  danger.  My  siffves 
likewise  were,  for  a  time  disposed  to  be  very  troublesome  ;  but 
I  was  always  providentially  favoured  with  a  timely  intimation  of 
tlieir  designs,  so  that  they  never  proceeded  to  open  disturbance  ; 
and  for  several  months  past,  they  have  been  as  quiet  and  tractable 
as  children.  Having  had  so  many  repeated  proofs  of  a  gracious, 
and  always  present  Protector,  I  think  it  would  be  not  only  folly, 
but  ingratitude  and  sin  to  distrust  him  now.  So  that  even  with  re- 
gard to  yourself,  though  you  are  unspeakably  the  dearest  blessing 
and  comfort  of  my  life  ;  for  whose  sake  chiefly  it  is,  that  all  other 
advantages  appear  desirable  ;  and  though  I  have  no  information 
of  your  welfare,  later  than  of  nine  months'  date,  yet  I  cannot  say 
that  I  am  uneasy.  While  I  hear  nothing  to  the  contrary,  I  shall 
trust,  pray,  and  believe  that  the  Lord  still  preserves  you  in  mercy 
to  us  both,  and  will,  in  good  time,  bring  us  happily  together  again. 


St.  Christopher* s^  June  3, 
We  anived  here  in  safety  last  night.  1  can  say  little  more,  as  I 
expect  to  be  called  on  for  my  letter  every  minute  ;  and  1  would 
not  miss  the  opportunity  if  1  could  only  send  a  single  line.  I  feel 
enough  in  my  own  disappointment,  to  oblige  me  to  be  punctual. 
J  promised  myself  many  letters  from  you,  upon  my  arrival  here  : 
judge,  then,  (if  you  can.)  how  much  1  am  chagrincfd,  not  to  find 
<venone.  I  am  sure  it  is  not  owing  to  any  neglect  of  yours  ; 
and  though  I  have  not  heard  from  you  so  long,  I  ara  not  quite 
uneasy.  I  have  committed  you  into  the  hands  of  God,  whose 
goodness  abounds  lo  me  daily.  On  him  1  depend,  and  endeavour 
lo  think,  no  news  is  good  uews. 


Sandy  Point,  St.  Kitfs  June  8. 
i  INFORMED  you,  Oft  the  3d,  of  my  arrival,  bwt  was  then  too  busy 
to  enlarge.  I  have  now  leisure  enough,  but  must  confess  I  write 
with  a  heavy  heart.  I  cannot  account  for  having  no  letters  from 
you  after  so  many  months,  if  you  are  well.  But  I  endeavour  to 
compose  myself  by  a  submissive  dependence  upon  the  providence 
of  God,  to  whom  I  have  so  often,  and  so  earnestly  commended 
ou.  For  my  peace's  sake,  1  try  to  suppose  that  the  letters  I  so 
onged  for,  have  by  some  means  miscarried.  I  will  endeavour  not 
to  mention  this  subject  any  more,  but  I  cannot  promise  to  forget 
it :  in  every  other  point,  1  have  all  possible  satisfaction.  Most  of 
the  cargo  is  sold,  and  at  a  good  price.  I  hope  the  loss  Upon  the 
voyage  will  prove  inconsiderable,  and  I  believe  my  own  interest  in 


I 


SECOND  VOYAGE  TO  ATRICA.  81 

It,  will  be  better  than  the  former.  I  was  going  to  add,  as  usoafi 
that  I  expect  my  best  reward  from  you  ;  bat  this  thought  gave 
rise  to  another  which  drew  from  me  a  heart-felt  sigh.  But 
I  remember  my  promise  :  I  have  sent  a  boat  up  to  Antigua  upon 
the  peradventure  that  your  letters  may  have  been  lodged  for  me 
there.  1  know  a  separation  must  at  some  time  take  place,  but  I 
hope  and  pray  it  may  be  deferred  till  we  have  more  strength  to 
bear  it.  A  perfect  acquiescence  in  the  will  of  God,  could  we  at- 
tain it,  would  be  worth  more  than  mountains  of  Gold  and  silver. 
I  know,  as  I  have  often  said,  that  our  concerns  are  under  the  best 
and  kindest  management.  I  know  who  brought  us  together,  and 
has  blest  us  with  a  mutual  affection  ;  for  want  of  which,  marriage 
is  a  clog  and  burden  to  thousands.  And  he  knows  our  passions 
and  our  weakness  j  and,  unless  we  over-rate  the  comforts  he  be- 
stows, will  never  deprive  us  of  them,  but  with  a  design  of  giviqg 
as  something  still  better  in  their  room. 


Sandy  Pointy  June  12. 

I  HAVE  sent  away  all  my  spare  sheets,  and  shall  take  care  to  be 
constantly  provided  with  something  for  every  opportunity.  Bat 
to  what  purpose  do  I  write,  when  perhaps  my  dear  M****  may 
be  past  the  power  of  reading  f  Indeed,  I  find  it  a  heavy  task  now, 
to  what  it  used  to  be !  but  since  I  am  not  quite  without  hope  of 
your  welfare,  (which  is  the  very  best  I  can  say,)  I  must  write  on, 
lest  I  should  subject  you  to  an  anxiety  like  that  which  I  now  feel. 
I  am  forced  to  assume  an  air  of  cheerfulness  in  company,  but, 
roaugre  all  my  precautions,  I  often  discover  myself  to  be  a  hy- 
pocrite, by  my  involuntary  sighs  ;  and  at  night  I  dream  I  know 
not  what. 

Yet  when  you  read  this,  do  not  think  I  was  unhappy  when  I 
wrote  it.  My  hopes,  for  the  most  part,  prevail ;  and  I  consider, 
even  now,  that  if  we  meet  happily  at  last,  1  shall  soon  be  overpaid 
for  all  my  care.  Under  such  a  disappointment  as  this,  it  is  ne- 
cessary  either  that  I  should  not  be  quite  easy,  or  that  I  should 
love  you  less  than  1  do.  You  will  allow  the  former  evil  to  be  a 
mere  trifle,  compared  with  the  other. 

I  have  informed  my  owners  thai  I  cannot  undertake  to  do  any 
thing  upon  the  Windward  Coast  next  season,  the  trade  is  so  over- 
done. If  they  will  send  me,  I  am  ready  to  go }  but  I  will  not  be 
blamed,  in  case  of  ill-success,  for  not  honestly  giving  my  opinion. 
If  they  take  my  advice,  perhaps  they  may  send  me  to  some  other 
part  of  the  coast,  or  to  some  other  part  of  the  world.    \  am  indif- 

VoL.  IV.  11 


$i  LETTERS   TO   A    WIFE. 

fertnt  as  to  ^e  bow,  or  where,  provided  I  may  be  permitted  some- 
times  to  tdl  you,  it  is  al)  for  your  sake ;  and  to  hear  you  say,  that 
Jrou  accept  it  so* 


Sandy  Point,  June  21. 

I  HATE  sent  you  several  letters  and  packets  since  my  arrival. 
I  cannot  now  complain,  as  formerly,  for  want  of  a  subject.  I 
have  one  with  which  I  could  fill  many  sheets,  but  have  promised 
not  to  touch  upon  it,  if  I  can  help  it.  So  that  I  am  at  present  un- 
der a  double  difficulty:  it  is  equally  hard  for  me  to  write  what 
would  entertain  you,  or  to  refrain  from  what  1  kaow  would  grieve 
you.  Well,  I  must  submit.  My  happiness  with  you  is  such,  that 
all  incidental  pains  and  uneasinesses  seem  mere  trifles,  when  either 
past  or  to  come,  however  hard  to  bear  when  present.  My  plea- 
sures, on  the  contrary,  whether  at  the  time,  in  recollection,  or  in 
prospect,  always  affords  me  consolation.  Thus,  though  there  is, 
strictly  speaking,  more  evil  than  good  in  life,  yet  Providence  so 
orders  itf  or  at  leasts  so  orders  my  share,  that  I  find  a  little  of  the 
veal  good  overbalances  a  great  deal  of  the  evil.  My  fears  and 
uncertainties  upon  your  account  are  much  preferable  to  my  being 
A  mercenary  wretch,  incapable  of  valuing  you  as  I  ought.  When 
I  consider  how  many  I  see  who  are  blind  to  the  merit  of  their 
wives,  because  they  are  secure  of  them,  I  learn  how  much  I  owe 
to  the  Lord  for  blessing  me  with  the  knowledge  of  my  true  inte- 
rest, and  a  mind  susceptive  of  tenderness  and  sensibility. 

I  believe  I  was  rather  sparing  of  my  promises  in  the  time  of 
i;ourtship  ;  at  least  I  engaged  for  no  more  than  is  usual  on  such 
jbccasi^ns ;  but  it  has  been  my  happiness  since,  to  endeavour  to 
act  fully  up  to  what  I  had  said.  And  I  now  see,  by  the  conduct 
of  many  who  treat  such  things  as  matters  of  course,  how  nearly 
my  duty  and  my  pleasure  were  united,  and  how  miserable  I  must 
have  been,  if  capable  of  wronging  the  confidence  you  pla- 
ced in  me.  I  see  that  those  who  cannot  find  their  satisfactions 
at  h<nnej  seek  them  in  vain  abroad.  And  thus  I  understand  the 
Kteral  meaning  of  the  word  diversions  ;  which  are  only,  or  chief- 
ly, agreeable  to  those  who  wish  to  turn  their  thoughts  from  their 
ciwn  situation.  What  numbers  are  there  who  frequent  the  thea- 
tres, assemblies,  balls,  and  the  various  scenes  of  dissipation,  with-^ 
out  being  really  pleased  for  one  half  hour,  either  with  themselves, 
or  with  any  body  or  thing  around  them  ?  they  languish  continual 
ly  for  a  change,  and  rather  than  continue  in  the  same  pursuit,  are 
<Hlling  to  change  for  th^  worse. 

A  tetter  from  Liverpool,  dated  April  6,  informs  me  of  the  death 


ftBCOND  tOTAGt  TO  AVSACA*  00 

of  oor  friend  Mrs*  M***«  Wba^t  a  Atrikiog  lesson !  A  tewtiAil  mo* 
man,  in  the  bloom  of  youth,  with  gay  hopes  and  prospects,  cut  off 
in  the  first  year  of  marriage !  As  you  meDtiooed  her  beliig  with 
child,  I  think  it  probable  that  she  died  in  child-bed.  Alas  !  the 
vanity  of  this  world  and  all  its  enjoyments !  How  little  do  we  know 
what  to  wish  for !  I  hope  I  shall  always  be  contented  and  pleased,  if 
it  should  please  God  that  you  never  have  to  encounter  that  temble 
risk.  How  could  I  bear  to  consider  myself  as  the  imme^atp, 
though  innocent,  canse  of  your  death  !  I  own  that  childreti)  from 
the  consideration  of  their  being  yours,  would  be  highly  acceptable 
to  me,  if  it  were  so  appointed ;  but  1  hope  I  shall  never  be  so  mad 
as  to  wish  for  them,  for  fear  the  consequences  should  rain  me.  1 
know  I  am  already  happy  without  them» 


Sandy  Pomtj  June  23« 
Mt  letters  were  sealed,  and  just  going  away,  but  I  gladly  bceak 
open  yours,  to  tell  yeo,  that  the  boat  which  I  seat  to  Antigua 
has  brought  me  (Oh  how  kind  and  careful  is  my  dear !)  six  letters 
from  you,  besides  several  others  from  friends,  which,  though  very 
acceptable  are  of  less  importance  to  my  peace.  I  am  sorry  now, 
that  I  disclosed  my  fears  to  yoU)  as  you  will  perhaps  be  nneailf 
for  me,  till  you  learn  by  tbis  that  my  wound  is  healed.  I  assuhe 
you,  I  dissembled  what  I  could,  and  expressed  much  less  concern 
than  I  felt,  because  I  was  writing  to  you.  I  have  to  praise  God 
for  the  mercy  of  this  day,  and  to  confess  the  «in  and  folly  of  mjr 
distrust  of  his  goodness*  I  have  only  had  time,  as  yet,  to  r^ 
jour  letters  twice.  1  see,  already,  that  I  cannat  fully  answer 
them,  but  I  am  sure  my  full  heart  means  yon  thanks. 


Sandy  Poinif  July  5. 

I  THINK  this  is  the  twelfth  letter  I  have  sent  yon  from  henoe 
in  the  space  of  a  month,  and  they  have  been  all  pretty  full ;  and  I 
believe  I  shall  hardly  send  you  above  one,  or  at  most,  two  mdre^ 
before  I  sail  myself,  which  I  hope  will  be  within  ten  days.  In 
some  of  my  former,  1  have  commented  upon  three  of  yours^  which 
I  have  received  here. 

The  next,  in  order  of  time,  is  dated  the  thurd  of  Janflary.  1  b»- 
gan  the  new  year  very  seriously,  and  wish  I  conld  say,  the  whok^ 
hitherto,  had  been  of  .a  piece ;  but  these  has  not  a  dajripassed 
without  my  prayers,  that  every  blessing  may  rest  upon  yM.  1 
Ihank  you  for  resolving  not  to  like  «ay  one  hnt.whoia  I  $rsiap- 


84  LETTERS   TO    A   WIFE. 

prove.  I  wish  not  to  trouble  yoa  with  many  exceptions ;  btff 
perhaps  sometimes  your  judgment  and  mine  may  differ  a  little ; 
for  you  have  too  much  good-nature  and  openness  to  suspect  some 
of  the  poor  fluttering  things  that  intrude  upon  you.  I  aim  at  one 
in  particular,  but  you  are  sensible  that  some,  of  whom  you  once 
thought  better  than  they  disserved,  have  before  now  explained 
their  own  characters,  and  justified  my  censure ;  and,  sooner  or 
later,  all  such  will  appear  in  their  proper  colours ;  for,  where 
there  are  no  good  principles,  professions  and  pretences  must  fall 
to  the  ground.  You  have  given  a  good  turn  to  Mrs.  P*****s 
backwardness  to  believe  we  were  married ;  but  if  we  live  to  see 
her  together,  she  shall  speak,  if  she  pleases,  for  herself,  and  tell 
us  whether  your  compliance  did  not  surprise  her  more  than  my 
perseverance.  But  I  care  not  which  it  was,  since  I  know  that  I 
am  happy.  Happy  indeed,  since  you  acknowledge  that  yoa 
think  yourself  so ;  for  I  never  was-  so  poor  a  wretch  as  to  think 
of  being  happy  alone.  The  only  risk  I  ran  was  this-— lest  I 
should  presume  too  much  upon  myself  in  expecting  to  inspire  you 
with  a  reciprocal  regard.  The  event  has,  indeed,  answered  to 
my  wishes,  but,  when  I  think  seriously  of  myself,  1  cannot  but 
wonder  at  it,  and  at  my  own  hardiness  in  the  undertaking. 

You  say,  my  love  continued,  and  yours  increased.  But  has  not 
mine  increased  likewise  f  I  have  no  similie  to  illustrate  the  dif- 
ference, between  the  regard  I  bear  you  now,  and  that  which  I  had 
for  you  before  marriage.  I  was  not  a  hypocrite  then.  My  affec- 
tion was,  perhaps,  as  strong  as,  in  those  circumstances,  it  could 
be.  But  I  loved  you,  as  I  may  say,  for  your  looks  ;  my  love 
had  little  more  to  feed  upon.  As  yet  there  were  none  of  those 
endearments  and  obligations,  which  now  continually  throng  my 
remembrance.  In  short,  I  find  by  experience,  that  love,  to  be 
stable  and  permanent,  must  be  mutual ;  and  then,  after  years  and 
years  of  possession,  it  will  be  still  increasing  ;  and  every  new  en- 
deavour to  please,  will  produce  a  new  pleasure.  How  different 
is  this  from  the  vice  which  the  libertine  would  disguise  under  the 
pame  of  love  ! 


Sandy  Pointy  July  11. 
h  t  have  a  good  passage,  I  may  be  in  England  before  this 
notice  reaches  you,  for  I  hope  to  sail  this  evening,  and  the  vessel 
by  which  I  send  it  is  bound  to  London,  and  will  stay  here  two  or 
three  daiys  after  me.  But  as  she  is  a  better  sailer  than  mine,  may 
probably  arrive  first.  I  allow  you  to  begin  to  think  of  my  arrival 
when  you  hear  I  am  upon  my  way  home,  but  beg  you  not  be  im^ 


SSC9N0   VOTAQE   TO  AFEIOA,  85 

palientfor  news.  Passages  from  the  West  Indies  are  very  uncer- 
tain. It  somtimes  has  happened  that  a  vessel,  which  has  sailed  a 
month  after  another,  has  reached  home  as  much  before  her.  I 
have  told  you,  that  there  is  not  a  stronger  or  safer  ship  than  mine 
upon  the  sea }  and  the  same  good  Providence  which  preserved 
roe  last  voyage,  in  a  very  old  and  crazy  vessel,  will  be  with 
me  now;  and  I  am  going  in  the  finest  season  of  the  year.  In 
short,  though  I  ought  not  confidently  to  presume  on  any  thing  in  this 
uncertain  world,  I  derive  from  the  tenour  of  the  dispensations  I 
have  met  with  for  several  years  past,  a  cheerful  persuasion,  that 
the  God  in  whom  I  trust  will  preserve  me  for  further  mercies,  and 
still  make  me  an  instance  of  his  goodness  to  the  most  unworthy. 


Jit  Sea,  July  23. 

I  AM  almost  ashamed  to  say,  that  though  I  have  been  twelve 
days  at  sea,  this  is  the  first  time  of  my  writing  to  yon.  But  I 
liope  to  be  more  frequent  in  future.  I  have,  indeed,  been  very 
busy,  and  am  so  still.  But  I  will  not  oflier  so  poor  an  excuse  ; 
ibr  if  I  can  find  time  to  eat  or  sleep,  I  can  as  well  find  an  hour 
for  your  service,  which  is  the  second  best  business  of  my  life.  I 
have  had  much  peace  since  I  received  your  letters ;  but  I  may 
now  venture  to  own,  that  my  disappointment  till  I  had  them,  was 
the  greatest  trial  I  have  known  since  I  could  call  you  mine.  You 
know  the  strength  of  my  passion,  and  you  know  well  (observe  my 
confidence)  the  paiufulness  of  absence  and  silence  from  what  we 
most  value.  But  it  is  now  happily  over ;  and  I  hope  what  I 
then  sufiered  will  prove  for  the  good  of  both  hereaAer.  *    *' 

The  weather  is  fine,  and  the  wind  fair.  I  am  drawing  nearer 
to  you  every  moment.  Perhaps,  as  my  prospect  brightens,  my 
genius  may  improve.  My  good  intentions,  at  least,  will  Qot  be 
wanting  to  entertain  you.  Thus  much  by  way  of  preface.  It 
grows  late,  and  another  agreeable  employment  awaits  me;  I 
mean  to  recommend  you  to  God  in  my  prayers,  that  every  evil 
may  be  kept  from  you  while  you  sleep.  I  shall  then  lie  down 
myself,  with  my  usual  wish,  (which  sometimes  happens,)  that  I 
may  dream  myself  in  your  company. 


di  Sea,  July  %A. 
You  think,  by  my  last  letters,  that  I  am  grown  more  grave 
than  formerly.    I  do  not  intend  to  be  more  dull,  nor  am  I  trou- 
bled with  low  spirits ;   but  I  own  that  gravity,  so  far  as  is  con^ 


8Q  LBTTSB8   TO  A  WStJB. 

ststetit  witb  elieerfulness  of  heart,  appears  to  me  desirable.  Ad^ 
I  hope  I  shall  reUim  to  you  graver  (in  my  sense  of  the  word)  than 
I  have  been,  but  that  this  change  will  not  be  t^^my  disadvantage 
«s  a  companion,  and  least  of  all  to  you.  Cannot  I  remind  you 
of  many  happy  hours  we  have  passed  together,  when  noisy  mirth, 
and  the  mistaken  gaiety  in  which  thousands  are  bewildered,  would 
have  seemed  tasteless  and  impertinent  f 

Perhaps  when  you  read  this,  I  may  be  at  your  elbow  to  ask  you 
— ^if  not,  I  beg  you  to  ask  yourseliP— When  sometimes  yoif  have 
been  sitting  alone  in  a  melancholy  muse,  perhaps  the  more  lonely 
for  not  having  heard  from  me — when  your  ima^oation  has  paint- 
ed the  dangers  to  which  I  was  exposed,  and  your  memory  has  of- 
ficiously furnished  you  with  instances  of  some  who  have  suffered 
by  such  disasters ; — or,  when  you  have  recollected  the  circum- 
stances of  our  past  endearments — and  to  finish  all,  when  you 
have  recalled  me  to  your  thoughts  in  the  action  of  parting  from 
you  without  a  word  or  sigh,  for  fear  of  increasing  your  trouble—* 
I  say,  when  a  mixture  of  these,  and  similar  ideas,  have  wrought 
you  up  to  that  pitch  of  regret  and  concern  which  must  be  some- 
times paid  for  the  privilege  of  loving— -tell  me,  if  then,  the  world, 
with  all  its  gaieties  and  amusements,  has  not  appeared  a  bubble,  a 
shadow,  a  wilderness  ?  Why  then  should  we  not  always  be  too 
grave  to  be  pleased  with  them,  since  we  have  repeated  proofs,  that 
none  of  the  world's  gewgaws  can  afford  us  relief  in  our  mournful 
hours  f  So  far  from  helping  us  at  such  times,  we  prefer  our  own  . 
thoughts  (though  painful  enough)  to  every  thing  that  ofiers  to  di- 
vert us,  and  carry  it  with  caution  to  our  dearest  friends,  lest  they 
should  steal  our  grief  away ;  I  have  said  fVe  and  Us^  all  along, 
hailing  no  doubt  but  a  description  of  my  own  feelings  will  answer 
to  yours  likewise.  Yet,  after  all,  we  seem  to  be  persuaded,  that 
a  more  happy  couple  than  we  are,  cannot  be  found.  If  so,  do 
we  not  allow  and  prove,  that  happiness  is  not  to  be  expected  in 
this  life ;  at  least,  not  in  any  nor  all  the  things  that  are  of  an 
earthly  growth  f  Who  has  it,  if  we  have  it  not  ?  And  what  have 
we  ?  Perhaps  a  precarious  month  in  a  year,  which,  considered  in 
'  itself,  is  to  me  valuable  indeed.  But  it  must  be  owned,  that  the 
more  we  are  pleased  the  short  space  we  are  together,  the  more  we 
are  at  a  loss  in  the  long  interval  of  separation ;  during  the  greater 
part  of  which,  we  know  no  more  of  each  other  than  of  the  silent 
grave. 

The  insensible,  selfish  creatures,  whom  caprice  or  custom  yoke 
in  a  married  state,  without  design  or  confidence,  are  strangers  to 
our  satisfactions :  this  is  true ;  but  neitiier  do  they  feel  the  draw- 
back. To  quit  a  person  dearer  than  eyes  or  life-^to  be  at  a  pain*- 
fill  uncertainty  for  many  weary  moatlis  for  a  welfare  more  pre- 


SSG0N1»  VOYAGE  TO  AV&ICA.  ST 

dons  to  us  Aan  oar  own — ^and  from  a  sense  of  happiness  at  home, 
lo  be  raised  to  a  pitch  incapable  of  tasting  the  common  entertain- 
ments of  life  abroad — ^to  be  always  fearing  what  may  never  hap- 
pen and  regretting  what  can  never  be  recalled — ^from  these,  and 
many  more  pains  which  I  feel,  bat  cannot  describe,  their  insensi- 
bility secures  them.  These  are  appropriate,  prerogative  troubles, 
which  none  but  lovers,  nay,  none  but  happy  lovers,  are  capable 
of  snffering. 


At  Sea,  July  25. 

A  STRANGER  might  suppose  I  was  yesterday  complaining  of 
my  lot,  but  you  know  me  better.  That  I  can  love  ;  that  my  re- 
gard was  directed  to  you,  and  met  with  a  suitable  return  from 
you,  are  my  chief  temporal  blessings,  in  which,  notwithstanding 
all  disadvantages,  I  still  deem  myself  happy  ;  that  is,  in  a  qualifi- 
ed sense :  so  far  as  this  imperfect  state  will  admit,  and  far  beyoud 
my  deserts,  or  the  common  attainment  of  mankind.  But  for  this 
I  am  much  beholden  to  my  gravity,  such  as  it  is.  For  should  I 
grant,  that  a  serious  temper  is  not  qujte  necessary  to  give  us  the 
fall  relish  of  our  enjoyments  when  present,  (which  is  more,  how- 
ever, than  I  mean  to  grant,)  yet  surely  it  is  needful  ta  support  us 
jn  the  want  of  them. 

Though,  in  the  moment  of  taking  my  leave  of  you,  I  felt 
more  than  I  can  express  ;  yet,  in  the  midst  of  my  grief,  and  when 
quitting  what  I  most  valued,  I  thought  myself  happier  than  thou- 
sands can  be  in  the  possession  of  their  wishes.  I  left  you,  and 
with  the  expectation  of  a  long  absence;  but  the  sense  of  the  di- 
vine providence,  and  my  trust  in  God,  greatly  obviated  my  cares 
and  fears,  and  led  my  thoughts  forward  to  the  hour  (I  hope  now 
nearly  opproacbing)  which  will  restore  me  to  you  again.  I  was 
like  a  person  committing  his  dearest  treasure  to  his  dearest  friend ; 
and  then  went  down  stairs  with  a  mixture  of  peace  and  grief  not 
easily  described  ;  not  as  violently  torn  away,  but  as  willingly 
foregoing  you  for  a  while,  that  I  might  better  deserve  you. 

I  considered,  that  the  Lord,  who  had  joined  us,  could  easily 
have  so  appointed  our  affairs,  as  to  free  us  from  the  necessity  of 
such  long  separations ;  and  I  thought  it  would  have  been  so,  but 
that  He,  who  knows  all  things,  knows  the  indulgence  would  hurt 
us  in  some  particulars,  perhaps  in  many,  which  we  are  not  aware 
of.  I  felt  for  the  uneasiness  which  your  regard  for  me  might  some- 
times occasion  ;  but  I  saw,  that  even  this  might  lead  your  mind 
more  closely  and  frequently  to  him  for  help,  and  if  so  be  a  benefit 
I  coQfess,  the  thought  of  death,  on  either  side,  made  me'  serious 


88  LETTEE8  TO  A  WirK. 

If  I  had  apprehended,  that  was  the  last  time  I  should  hold  yoa  in 
my  surras,  how  could  I  haVe  left  yoa  at  all  ?  No  ; — ^then  methioks, 
wind  and  tide,  business  and  honour,  would  have  pleaded  in  vain, 
and  I  most  have  been  carried  from  yon  by  force.  Bat  this, 
which  was  my  only  dread,  hardly  occurred  to  roe  at  the  time,  and 
was  soon  removed,  by  an  inward  persuasion  that  we  should  hap- 
pily meet  again.  And,  oh  !  conld  you  form  an  idea  of  the  evils 
I  have  since  been  preserved  through,  and  kept  for  the  most  part 
in  peace,  seldom  knowing  where  the  danger  lay,  till  it  was  past, 
you  would  allow  that  I  am  a  living  proof  of  the  truth  of  those  pro* 
raises  which  1  endeavour,  by  the  grace  of  God,  to  make  my  stay 
and  my  trust.    • 

I  hope  I  have  made  out  the  advantages  of  a  religious  frame  of 
mind,  in  my  present  situation.  Let  me  now  consider,  whether 
it  will  not  be  equally  necessary,  and  conducive  to  our  happiness, 
upon  a  re-union.  Will  it  not  be  an  additional  pleasure,  to  think 
that  we  do  not  meet  again,  as  it  were  by  chance,  but  by  the  care 
of  a  watchful  Providence,  in  answer  to  prayer ;  as  a  token  of  his 
favpur,  and  an  earnest  to  encourage  our  future  dependence  upon 
him  f  How  could  I,  loving  you  as  I  do,  be  easy  a  moment,  with- 
out this  dependence,  in  such  a  changeable  state,  and  not  knowing 
what  the  next  day  or  hour  may  bring  forth  f  Nor  is  religion  a 
restraint  upon  any  real  or  rational  pleasure.  For,  as  the  apostle 
emphatically  expresses  it,  God  gives  us  all  things  richly^  to  enjoy; 
not  grudgingly,  but  freely  and  richly  ;  not  to  raise  desires  which 
n)ay  not  be  gratified  ;  what  he  gives,  is  with  the  design  that  it 
may  be  enjoyed.  It  is  true,  there  is  a  modus  a  moderation,  en- 
joined ;  but  this,  likewise,  is  for  our  benefit,  that  we  may  not 
spoil  the  relish  of  our  comforts,  nor  indispose  ourselves  for  the 
reception  of  bis  further  and  better  gifts. 


At  Se/i,  Jtily  26. 
Since,  then,  a  serious  and  dependent  spirit  secures  to  us  the 
best  enjoyment  of  our  blessings,  and  obviates,  in  a  great  measure, 
the  inconveniences  to  which  they  are  subject ;  what  remains,  but 
that  we  should  resolve  and  endeavour,  to  the  best  of  our  power, 
to  cultivate  this  temper,  and  to  live  so  as  has  appeared  to  us  most 
reasonable,  when  we  have  been  uneasy  and  afflicted  i  The  con- 
trary behaviour  carries  in  it  so  much  disingenuousness,  that  I  am 
ashamed  when  I  reflect  upon  my  past  guilt  and  folly.  For  it  is 
certain,  that  I  have  often  been  least  observant  and  attentive,  when 
a  grateful  mind  would  have  been  most  so.  For  these  reasons  I 
hope,  upon  my  return,  to  appear  more  grave  than  ever,  to  one 


S6C01!rD  TOTAGB  TO  KniCk,  89 

part  of  oar  acqnamtance ;  but  then  I  shall  be  always  cbeerfiil,  ia 
the  approbation  of  my  conscience.  I  have  chiefly  written  all  this, 
upon  my  own  accoont,  that  the  perusal  of  it  hereafter  may  confirm 
and  strengthen  me  in  my  present  views  and  desires. 


I  AM  persuaded,  as  I  have  often  said,  that  if  it  was  in  all  points 
best  for  us  to  be  always  together,  we  should  never  be  parted* 
He  who  has  already  done  so  much  for  us,  could  easily  add  this 
to  the  rest  of  his  mercies,  and  perhaps  at  a  proper  time,  he  will. 
If  not,  let  us  entreat  him  to  direct  our  thoughts  and  pursuits  to 
a  better  state,  where  no  separation,  anxiety,  or  grief,  shall  disturb 
us  for  ever.  The  trials  of  this  life  are  highly  useful  and  necessa* 
ry  to  prevent  our  minds  from  fixing  here ;  especially  to  us,  who 
have  so  much  to  prize  in  each  other.  But  let  not  passion  mislead 
us  to  suppose,  that  we  are  not  capable  of  a  happiness,  as  far  beyond 
our  present  experience  or  conception,  as  the  heavens  are  higher 
than  the  earth.  Our  mutual  affection,  which  now  makes  life 
chiefly  valuable  to  us,  will,  I  trust  subsist  in  a  nobler  manner, 
when  the  transient  causes  upon  which  it  was  at  first  founded  shall, 
perhaps,  have  no  more  place  in  our  remembrance ;  at  least,  will 
not  be  considered  in  the  light  we  now  esteem  them,  but  will  ap» 
pear  truly  valuable,  only  so  far  as  they  were,  by  the  blessing  of 
God,  subservient  to  a  further  and  better  end.  And  how  will  it 
then  increase  our  joys,  (if  our  joys  will  then  be  capable  ofin- 
crease,)  to  think  that  we  have  assisted  each  other  in  obtaining 
them  ! 


At  Sea^  August  5. 

Supposing  that,  if  you  are  in  health  to-day,  you  have  been  a 
partaker  of  the  communion  at  church,  I  attended  yt)u  with  my 
prayers,  about  the  time  ;  that  you  might  receive  a  blessing,  and 
have  cause  to  look  back  upon  the  opportunity  with  comfort.  If 
it  please  God  to  continue  our  present  favourable  appearances,  I 
hope  to  join  with  you  the  next  time,  with  a  pleasure  which  only 
they  who  have  been  ^png  separated  from  public  worship,  and 
who  have  so  many  mercies  to  acknowledge  as  I  have,  can  con- 
ceive. It  comforts  me  to  thmk,  that  you  are  favoured  with  all 
the  advantages  of  which  my  way  of  life  deprives  me  for  a  whole 
year,  or  longer.    And  1  hope  you  suitably  improve  them. 

Vol.  IV.  12 


90  LBTTEftS   TO   A  WiFC. 

My  aiectioD  carries  my  wishes  and  desires  for  yoa,  far  beyosd 
the  narrow  bounds  of  the  time  we  can  expect  to  pass  together 
here ;  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  find,  that  a  preparation  for  an  here- 
aAer  has  a  place  in  your  thoughts,  much  superior  to  any  concern 
or  regard  for  me.  For  I  am  a  poor,  weak  creature,  incapable, 
dearly  as  I  love  you,  of  shielding  you  from  the  smallest  evil,  or  of 
doing  yon  any  service  so  great,  as  by  dissuading  you  from  plac- 
ing too  much  dependence  upon  a  worm  like  myself.  Think  not 
that  I  undervalue  your  affection  :  I  am  sure  I  would  not  exchange 
it  for  all  the  kingdoms  upon  earth.  But  there  is  a  regard,  which 
is  due  only  to  Him  who  first  inspired  us  with  love  to  each  other. 
While  our  mutual  affection  is  restrained,  in  a  proper  subordina* 
tion  to  him,  I  hope  we  shall  not  be  blameable  for  preferring  it, 
as  I  do,  to  whatever  else  can  be  named.  But  if  we  exceed  this 
boundary,  we  not  only  sin,  but  expose  ourselves  to  a  double  risk 
of  having  our  comforts  blighted,  eitlier  by  death,  or  by  heavy 
troubles.  All  that  we  possess  or  value  is  the  immediate  gift  of 
God,  who  proposes  the  most  ingenuous  and  grateful  motives  to 
win  us  to  his  service.  But  if,  by  fondly  reposing  on  creatures, 
we  pervert  his  goodness,  and  set  up  a  rest  independent  of  the  Cre- 
ator, what  can  be  expected,  but  that  he  will  either  recall  the  bless- 
ings we  so  little  deserve,  or  throw  in  bitter  ingredients  to  spoil 
our  pleasures  P 

I  tremble  to  think  how  much  I  have  exposed  you,  by  my  blind- 
ness and  folly  in  this  respect.  When  I  was  so  long  at  St.  Kitt's, 
without  hearing  from  you,  that  I  almost  concluded  you  were 
dead,  my  conscience  confirmed  my  fears  ;  for  I  knew  that  I  de- 
served to  be  punished  where  my  feelings  were  most  tender  and 
^nsible.  This  conviction  lay  upon  my  mind,  with  a  weight  that 
no  words  can  express.  Ah !  thought  I,  but  for  me,  she  might 
have  been  still  living  and  happy.  My  weakness  and  ingratitude 
have  shortened  her  days  !  But  God  is  merciful :  after  1  had  suf- 
fered thus  for  about  a  fortnight,  I  received  your  letters.  But  had 
the  event  proved  according  to  my  dread  and  my  desert,  what 
would  have  *become  of  me  f — To  survive  you  upon  any  terms 
would  be  a  great  trial  ;  but  it  then  seemed  comparatively  light, 
could  it  have  been  abstracted  from  the  aggravation  of  having 
tinned  you  away.  But — I  cannot  give  you  a  just  idea  of  tlie 
state  of  my  mind  at  that  time.  I  thank  God,  it  is  happily  over, 
and  1  have  now  a  comfortable  hope  that  vy  shall  meet  again  in 
peace.    If  we  do,  surely  I  shall  not  be  such  a  wretch  again. 


SECOND  TOTAGB  TO  AVRICA.  91 

At  Sea,  AugUit  16. 
iVow  I  may  write  leisurely,  for  the  wind  is  contrary.  Though 
I  am  earnestly  desirous  to  see  you,  I  would  not  be  impatient,  Mn 
wish,  if  it  was  in  my  power,  to  fix  the  time  myself.  I  trust  it  shall 
be  in  a  happy  hour,  and  I  desire  to  leave  the  when^  to  God.  Our 
times  are  in  bis  hands.  It  will  signify  little  a  hundred  years 
hence,  whether  I  was  five,  or  six,  or  more  weeks,  on  my  passage 
home«vards  from  St.  Kitt's,  in  the  year  1753.  And,  indeed,  it 
will  signify  but  little  when  I  have  been  half  an  hour  with  you.  I 
shall  then  soon  forget  the  inconvenience  of  delay.  If  I  feel  any 
concern,  it  is  on  your  account ;  for  my  love  would  not  willingly 
have  you  kept  in  an  hour's  suspense  for  me.  But  my  judgment 
speaks  more  reasonably,  and  tells  me  that,  as  disappointments 
and  hindrances  have  often  proved  of  real  service  to  myself;  so, 
perhaps,  they  may  be  to  ydu  likewise.  And  the  dependent  frame 
of  spirit,  in  which  I  am  now  happy,  would  be  worth  your  pur- 
chase, if  vou  have  not  yet  attained  it,  (but  I  hope  you  rather  ex- 
ceed me,;  at  the  price  of  not  seeing  me  this  twelvemonth. 


At  Sea,  August  18. 

I  AM  brought  in  safety  to  the  close  of  another  week.  The  eve* 
sing  of  a  Saturday,  I  asually  allot  to  the  exercise  of  prayer  and 
praise.  It  is  not  foreign  to  this  design  to  employ  half  an  hour  in 
writing  to  you,  to  invite  you  to  join  with  tne  in  praising  our  gra- 
cious Preserver,  as  we  are  jointly  interested  in  each  other's  con- 
cernment. 

The  wind  has  been  Easterly  a  few  days,  but  it  now  seems  to  be 
coming  about  fair  again.  For  my  own  part,  I  consider  the 
winds  from  every  quarter  to  be  fair ;  though,  in  compliance  with 
our  customary  forms  of  speaking,  I  call  those  so  which  allow  me 
to  sail  to  my  intended  port  in  a  straight  line.  When  it  dhanges,  I 
am  obliged  to  change  my  course,*  and  to  go  something  about. 
But  they  all  contribute  to  answer  my  best  wish,  at  the  proper 
time.  And  probably  a  contrary  wind  is  no  less  conducive  to  this 
end  than  a  more  direct  one  ;  for  we  know  not  when  we  go  too 
fast  or  too  slow.  .  A  ship  has  often  been  hurried  into  danger  and 
distress  by  a  quick  passage. 

I  shall  be  with  you  in  my  thought  to-morrow,  in  the  church,  in 
your  retirements,  and  at  your  meals.  I  rise  early  to  pray  for 
your  happiness,  before  you  awake  ;  and  sit  up  past  your  hoar, 
that  I  may  beg  a  blessing  apon  your  rest,  before  I  go  to  rest  my- 
self.    Some  persons  would  smile  at  all  this.    Let  them  snule*^ 


92  LETTERS   TO   A    WIPE. 

SO  that  I  may  give  the  most  sincere  and  serious  proof  of  nyr  affec* 
tion,  by  praying  at  all  hours,  and  in  all  circumstances,  ior  your 
peace  and  welfare* 


At  Sea,  August  20. 
We  have  again  a  fair  wind,  and  very  pleasant  weather,  I  have 
often  heard  your  sex  compared  to  the  ocean.  I  hope  the  re- 
semblance does  not  generally  hold,  (I  am  happy  to  be  certain, 
that  in  one  instance  it  does  not,)  for  there  cannot  be  a  more  apt 
emblem  of  inconstancy.  This  spot  of  water,  which  I  am  now 
passing  over,  which  at  present  is  as  smooth  as  a  meadow,  spread 
round  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  like  a  great  mirror,  and  reflects 
the  beams  of  the  moon  unruflled,  has,  perhaps,  been  the  grave  of 
many  ;  at  least,  their  terror,  and  will  o/teft  be  so.  It  may  be,  that 
the  next  who  follow  me,  will  find  a  very  different  scene.  For  let 
the  wind  blow  with  violence  from  any  quarter,  for  the  space  of 
four  hours,  and  all  will  be  in  confusion  ;  the  mirror  broken,  the 
level  destroyed,  and  nothing  to  be  seen  but  alternately  yawning 
gulfs  and  moving  mountains,  every  one  seeming  to  rise  higher  than 
Uie  rest,  and  the  smallest  sufficient  to  destroy  the  stoutest  ship, 
and  to  confound  human  confidence  in  a  moment ;  if  not  continu- 
ally  restrained  by  that  soverfeign  power  which  rules  the  waves 
with  a  nod.  and  limits  them  to  their  bounds,  beyond  which,  in 
their  highest  rage  and  confusion,  the^  cannot  rise  the  tenth  part 
of  a]i4nch«  How  they  feel,  at  such  times,  who  have  no  reliance 
but  on  their  own  skill  and  precaution,  I  cannot  say  ;  but  was  it  so 
with  me,  \  should  often  prove  a  very  coward;  and,  indeed,  al- 
ways ;  for  when  danger  was  not  apparent,!  should  dread  it  as  be** 
ing  imminent.  When  I  compare  the  various  contingencies  to 
which  a  ship  is  liable,  with  the  best  preventions  or  remedies  that 
art  can  furnish  against  them,  they  seem  so  disproportionate,  that, 
were  it  not  for  a  superintending  Providence,  I  should  think  it  a 
wonder  indeed  if  any  one  vessel  made  a  voyage  in  safety.  But 
as  in  this  view  I  should  be  always  afraid,  so  now,  since  I  am  cer- 
tain that  I  am  under  the  care  of  God  in  all  places,  I  do  not,  even 
in  turbulent  weather,  sufier  more  anxiety  than  is  needful  to  engage 
my  attention  to  the  proper  use  of  means.  This  is  my  part :  and 
if  means  are  succeeded,  it  is  by  the  blessing  of  God,  without  which 
my  diligence  would  be  unavailing.  The  watchman  waketh  but  in 
vain,  except  the  Lord  keep  the  city  ;  but  it  does  not  follow,  that 
hecauu  the  Lord  keeps  the  city  the  watchman  may  go  to  sleeps 
but  rather  the  contrary* 


SECOND  VOYAOE   TO  AFRICA.  93 


At  Sea,  August  29.  ' 
1  TOLD  you  yesterday,  that  I  might  probably  dine  to-day  at 
Liverpool ;  but  I  must  wait  longer.  Last  night  brought  us,  with 
fair  wind  and  with  fair  weather,  within  four  hours^  sail  of  our 
port.  We  stopped  to  wait  for  day-light  and  a  pilot.  The  day 
came  at  its  appointed  time,  but,  instead  of  a  pilot,  brought  a 
strong  gale  of  wind,  with  thick  weather  ;  so  that  I  was  glad  to 
turn  about  and  away  to  sea  again  ;  and  may  be  thankful  if  I  can 
keep  clear  of  the  sands  and  dangers  which  lie  before  the  entrance, 
of  the  river,  which  I  trust  I  shall ;  for  I  believe  the  providence  of 
God  has  not  brought  me  safely  across  two  oceans,  to  leave  me  to 
ray  own  poor  shifts  at  last.  It  really  blew  very  hard,  and  looked 
very  dismally  at  four  this  morning  :  but  the  weather  is  now  more 
moderate,  though  still  dark  and  rainy.  I  was  something  anxious 
in  the  night,  but  am  at  present  tolerably  easy.  God  is  my  de- 
fence •,  if  he  is  on  my  side  1  must  be  preserved  :  the  winds  and 
waves  obey  him  !  « 

I  can  now  give  you  a  new  proof  that  my  dependence  upon  God 
is  not  in  vain.  When  I  wrote  the  above,  I  was  in  a  very  indifferent 
situation  :  a  hard  gale  of  wind,  thick  weather,  and  verv  little  sea- 
room.  Had  things  continued  to  another  day,  I  might  have  suffer- 
ed shipwreck  within  a  few  miles  of  my  port ;  but  I  had  scarcely 
laid  the  paper  by,  when  the  weather  changed  to  quite  fine,  and  the 
wind  came  about  fair.  Before  noon  I  got  a  pilot  on  board,  and  I 
may  now  hope  to  be  at  Liverpool  this  very  night.  Surely  no  one 
experiences  the  goodn^^ss  and  care  of  Divine  Providence  more 
continually  than  I  do  !  Surely  the  Lord  hears  and  answers  my 
poor  prayers-l 


THIRD  VOYAGE  TO  AFRICA. 
1753. 

At  Sea,  October  26. 
Mr  Dearest, 

I  NOW  begin  to  prepare  materials  for  new  packets.  The  first 
thing  in  course  is  to  tell  you  that,  by  the  blessing  of  the  Lord,  all 
is  well  with  mc.  We  had  an  extraordinary  good  outlet  to  sea, 
and  lost  sight  of  the  last  land  the  tliird  day  after  parting  with  you. 
We  are  all  in  good  health  and  spirits.  My  time  passes,  perhaps, 
too  pleasantly,  considering  that  possibly  you  may  be  mourning  at 
the  very  instant  when  I  am  most  cheeituL  But  I  excuse  myself 
to  myself,  by  pleading  that  it  was  your  desire  I  should  be  as  cheer- 
ful as  I  can.  At  all  times  I  have  room  in  mv  thoughts  for  you  ; 
and  (he  most  pleasant  of  all  my  hours,  are  those  wnich  are  aevo- 
ted  to  praying  for  you.  My  mind  attends  you  this  week,  from 
stage  to  stage,  on  your  long  journey  home.  The  wise  tasteless 
many  would  smile  at  this  attention,  and  call  me  a  trifler.  So  let 
them.  If  it  g;ains  a  smile  of  acceptance  from  you,  I  will  account 
it  a  matter  of  importance  ;  and  smile  at  them,  in  my  turn  ;  though 
I  rather  pity  them. 


At  Seoj  JSTovemher  2. 

We  saw  and  passed  the  island  of  Madeira  this  morning,  (which 
is  distant  from  Liverpool  about  1500  miles,)  though  this  is  but  the 
thirteenth  day  since  we  left  the  rock.  As  we  are  now  entering 
that  part  of  the  ocean  ^here  the  wind  blows  from  the  eastern 
quarter  the  year  round,  I  have  a  prospect  of  a  quick  passage. 
Should  it  prove  so,  it  will  be  agreeable,  especially  as  I  nave  not 
been  left  to  wish  ifor  any  thing  particular,  being  sensible  that  I 
know  not  how  to  choose  the  best  means  and  times  for  accomplish- 
ing my  own  desires  if  the  choice  was  given  to  me.  Dispatch  will 
be  welcome,  as  affording  me  the  prospect  of  a  more  speedy  return 
to  you.  But  should  I  meet  with  delay,  I  hope  to  acquiesce,  and 
to  believe  that  it  will  keep  me  back  from  something  that  would  be 
worse.  Was  I  to  judge  otherwise,  I  should  sin  agamst  the  experi- 
ence of  many  years,  in  which  I  have  always  had  my  wishes  grati- 
fied,^o  far  as  was  consistent  with  my  safety  ;  and  have  met  with 
no  disappointment,  or  trouble,  but  what  I  have  afterwards  per- 
ceived was  intended,  or  at  least  over-ruled,  for  my  benefit. 

In  two  points,  we  are,  and  have  been,  favoured  above  thou- 
sands.   First,  in  a  tender  and  reciprocal  regard,  which  renders  it 


THlliD   VOYAO£   TO   AlllICA.  95 

impossible  for  either  of  us  to  be  pleased  or  pained  alone  \  and, 
secondly,  that  this  sympathy  has  been  chiefly,  I  could  almost  say 
wholly,  employed  in  a  participation  of  pleasures,  With  very  little 
interruption,  (the  pain  of  absence  excepted,)  on  either  side.  I 
know  not  which  of  these  blessings  is  most  valuable ;  but  certainly, 
when  combined,  (as  with  us,)  they  constitute  the  nearest  approach 
to  happiness,  in  a  temporal  view,  that  this  imperfect  state  will  ad- 
mit* There  are  many  who,  in  point  of  outward  advantages,  may 
seem  equal,  or  superior  to  us  ;  but  then  their  Contracted,  selfish 
spirits  cannot  relish  or  improve  them*  Again,  there  are  others  of 
generous  and  feeling  dispositions,  who  borne  down  by  the  pres- 
sure of  accumulatedafilictions,  derive  no  advantage  from  their  sen- 
sibility, unless  it  be  a  privilege  to  have  a  more  exquisite  reception 
of  misery.  There  are  those  who  could  bear  adversity  in  their 
own  persons  with  tolerable  composure,  but  feel  a  tenfold  distress 
by  seeing  others  involved  with  them,  whose  peace  is  dearer  to 
them  than  their  own.  Help  me  to  be  thankful !  I  have  no  rent- 
rolls,  or  stock  Securities,  to  rely  upon.  But  I  have  an  inventory 
of  another  kind,  a  single  article  of  which  is  preferable,  in  my  eyes, 
to  all  the  wealth  of  the  Indies  :  health,  content,  liberty,  love,  the 
recollection  of  the  past,  and  therein  a  lively  image  of  what  I  may 
yet  hope  for,  when  it  shall  please  God,  in  his  good  time,  to  re- 
store me  home,  to  receive  from  you  in  one  hour,  an  ample  recom^ 
pense  for  the  toils  of  a  whole  voyage. 


At  Seaj  November  23. 
I  AIM,  as  well  as  1  can,  to  mingle  the  agreeable  and  useful,  in 
the  course  of  my  letters  ;  and  to  offer  what  may  entertain  yon, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  improve  us  both.  Our  mutual  happy  af- 
fection supplies  me  with  my  largest  fund,  for  the  first  purpose  -, 
and  I  am  glad  when  I  can  properly  introduce  such  reflections  as 
may  assist  us  in  making  our  present  satisfactions  subservient  to  a 
still  higher  end.  You  will  not  be  displeased  with  me  for  saying, 
that  though  you  are  dearer  to  me  than  the  aggregate  of  all  other 
earthly  comforts,  I  wish  to  limit  my  passion  within  those  bounds 
which  God  has  appointed.  Our  love  to  each  other,  ought  to  lead 
us  to  love  him  supremely  who  is  the  author  and  source  of  all  the 
good  we  possess  or  hope  for.  It  is  to  him  we  owe  that  happiness 
in  the  marriage  state  which  so  many  seek  in  vain  -,  some  of  whom 
set  out  with  such  hopes  and  prospects,  that  their  disappointments 
can  be  deduced  from  no  other  cause,  than  their  having  placed  that 
high  regard  on  a  creature,  which  is  due  only  to  the  Creator.  He 
therefore  withholds  his  blessing,  (without  which  no  union  can  sub- 
sist,) and  their  expectations,  of  course,  end  in  satiety  and  indif- 
ference. 


96  LKTTEftS    TO  A   WfTK. 

Perfect  happiness  cannot  be  attained  in  this  life ;  bat  to  icome 
as  near  it  as  possible,  well  deserves  our  close  application.  As 
persons  difTer  much  in  their  views  and  inclinations,  this  attempt  has 
oeen  pursued  by  a  great  variety  of  mediums.  The  heathen  philo- 
sophers were  divided  by  a  diversitv  of  opinions,  but  they  all 
agreed  in  an  endeavour  to  teach  mankind  how  to  make  the  most  of 
the  good  which  life  affords  ;  and  to  bear  its  evils  with  the  best 
grace  possible.  Some  proposed  one  sort  of  rules  ;  others  afford 
new  ones,  and  perhaps  quite  opposite  to  the  former  ;  but  experi- 
ence confuted  them  all.  Being  ignorant  of  the  original  nature,  the 
true  end,  and  the  future  destination  of  man;  they  failed  in  the  cure 
of  the  evils  under  which  he  laboured,  because  they  knew  not  the 
source  from  which  they  sprung.  Some  attempted  to  eradicate  the 
passions,  and  placed  happiness  in  a  calmness,  or  rather  an  insen- 
sibility of  soul ;  not  reflecting  that  the  Creator  does  nothing  in 
vain,  and  that  we  have  not  a  single  naturtd  inclination  in  our 
frame,  but  what  he  designed  should,  under  a  proper  restriction, 
be  gratified.  But  while  they  endeavoured  to  guard  against  care, 
and  to  restrain  irregularity,  their  schemes  tended  to  destroy  some 
of  our  most  distinguishing  properties,  and  to  exclude  all  tender- 
ness and  generosity  of  sentiment.  Others,  to  avoid  this  absurdity, 
fell  into  a  greater,  if  possible.  By  supposing  the  greatest  happi- 
ness to  consist  in  the  most  constant  enjoyment  of  sensual  pleas- 
xire,  they  opened  a  wide  door  to  folly  and  cnoi'mity ;  and  left  each 
person  to  pursue  his  own  propensity,  under  the  notion  of  pleasure, 
without  having  recourse  to  any  standard  by  which  to  regulate  their 
conduct.  These  were  the  two  very  different  plans  of  those  who 
are  generally  deemed  the  wisest  men  among  the  ancients,  the 
Stoics  and  the  Epicureans.  The  one  pretendedj  that  the  world 
-afforded  nothing  worthy  of  their  notice.  The  other  founds  there 
was  nothing  in  the  world  deserving  of  the  value  they  set  upon  it. 

fVe  are  relieved  from  this  uncertainty  by  the  Gospel,  which  has 
brought  life  and  immortality,  true  happiness  and  the  means  of  at- 
taining it,  to  light.  And  when  tve  count  over  the  various  blessing 
we  enjoy,  we  should  always  acknowledge,  in  the  first  place,  this 
pledge  and  ground- work  of  every  other  mercy,  that  we  were  bom 
in  an  age  and  a  country  affording  us  plain  and  sure  instruction 
concerning  our  real  interest  and  bounden  duty,  and  how  insepara- 
bly they  are  joined  together.  The  Scripture  teaches  us  how  to 
enjoy  prosperity  in  its  full  relish,  by  considering  every  instance  of  it 
as  a  gift  and  token  of  the  divine  goodness,  always  attentive  to 
bless  us  ;  and  likewise  abates  the  pressure  of  adversity,  by  show- 
ing us  how  much  our  worst  sufferings  fall  short  of  our  demerits  ; 
how  much  more  our  Lord  and  Saviour  endured  for  our  sakes  ;  and 
by  the  assurance  it  ^ves,  that  if  we  love  God,  all  things,  even 
those  which  at  present  are  most  disagreeable,  shall  work  together 


TSIftD   VOTAQB  TO  AP&ICA.  97 

for  our  final  good.  Now,  whatwer  troubles  we  meet  with,  we 
can  look  beyond  them  all  to  an  everlasting  rest.'  The  hour  of 
death,  so  much  dreaded  by  others,  will  put  the  true  Christian  in 
possession  of  eternal  life.  These  things,  reason,  unassisted  by 
revelation,  could  never  have  discovered. 

The  Christian  religion  is  a  consistent  system,  including  the 
truth  and  morality  of  every  sect  of  philosophy,  and  avoiding  the 
errors  of  each.  We  now  see  the  use  and  excellence  of  the  pas- 
sions, when  duly  regulated  ;  though  they  render  us  unhappy 
when  misapplied,  because  then  they  fall  short  of  their  proper  end ; 
for  God,  who  (as  the  Scripture  says)  made  us  for  himself,  has 
formed  us,  with  a  yastness  of  capacity  which  he  only  can  satisfy^ 
And  from  hence  proceeds  that  restlessness  and  disappointmenti 
that  love  of  change,  which  is  the  poi*tion  of  those  who  place  their 
highest  desires  and  strongest  hopes  on  any  thing  beneath  the  su* 
preme  good.  We  can  now  say,  that  pleasure  is  our  chief  happi- 
ness, by  using  the  word  with  a  propriety  unknown  to  the  Epicu- 
reans. We  seek  for  pleasure,  but  it  must  be  of  the  noblest  kind, 
and  most  lasting  duration.  Upon  this  maxim  we  cheerfully  re- 
Dounce  every  present  pleasure  which,  in  its  consequence,  would 
occasion  a  pain  greater,  or  more  lasting,  than  the  pleasure  propo- 
sed ;  and  we  can  welcome  troubles,  when  we  clearly  perceive 
they  are  but  light  and  momentary,  if  compared  with  the  far  more 
exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory  to  which  they  lead.  This 
18  an  abstract  of  my  principles,  and,  I  believe,  of  yours  likewise. 
These  shall  support  us  when  we  shall  be  constrained  to  leave 
each  other ;  ana  these,  I  trust,  shall  join  us  again  in  a  bettej? 
world,  to  part  no  more  for  ever. 


Plantanesj  December  10. 
The  three  sheets  enclosed  will  bring  my  history  down  to  the 
end  of  November.  I  arrived  in  safety  at  Shebar,  the  second  in-* 
stant ;  found  my  friend  Harry*  well,  and  very  glad  to  see  me. 
Your  picture,  if  it  could  speak  might  tell  you  how  well  pleased 
his  first  lady  was  with  your  present ;  for  she  dressed  herself  in  it 
before  you,  and  seemed  to  think  that,  in  her  new  attire,  she  might 
stand  in  competition  with  you.  '  1  believe  you  will  smile  at  her 
vanity,  and  think  I  pay  you  no  great  compliment,  in  prrfering 
your  picture  to  her  reality.  But  bad  the  finest  woman  in  Englan4 
stood  by,  she  would^  in  my  eye,  have  fallen  almost  equally  short 
upon  the  comparison. 

*  Henry  Tucber,  a  Mulatto,  at  l^hebar,  was  the  man  with  whom  I  had  tbji 
firgeft  connexion  in  business,  and  by  whom  I  was  never  deceired. 
Vol.  IV.  13 


98  LETTERS   TO   A   WIVS, 

I  t)ften  look  back,  with  a  inixture  of  thankfulaess  and  regret, 
upon  the  iim^  we  lately  passed  together  at  Liverpool,  which  I 
consider  as  the  happiest  part  of  my  life.  I  never  before  had  so 
much  of  your  company,  in  an  equal  space,  and  with  so  little  inter- 
ruption. Seven  such  weeks  are  preferable  to  seven  years  of  com- 
mon time.  After  so  many  sheets  and  quires  as  I  have  written  to 
you,  I  cannot  always  produce  what  is  new.  But  the  thoughts 
with  which  your  love  inspires  me  are  too  interesting  to  be  irksome, 
though  often  repeated. 

Accept  my  thanks  for  your  valuable,  or  invaluable,  letter  of 
the  28th  of  October,  which  I  have  just  received.  I  thank  you, 
likewise,  for  your  punctual  observance  of  our  stated  hour  of  retire- 
ment, which  has  been  seldom  omitted  on  my  part ;  though,  some- 
times hurry  of  business,  or  want  of  opportunity,  have  prevented 
me.  But  if  I  slip  the  appointed  minute,  no  business  or  company 
can  prevent  me  from  putting  up,  at  least,  frequent  heart-felt  ejacu- 
lations on  your  behalf.  1  congratulate  Mr.  B****  upon  the 
agreeable  company  he  had  to  London.  I  think  the  journey  was 
at  least  as  favourable  to  him  as  to  you.  I  am  sure  I  would  rather 
have  had  his  seat  in  the  post-chaise  than  his  office,  however  lucra- 
tive or  honourable,  unless  you  were  annexed  to  it.  But  I  remem- 
ber, as  friar  Bacon's  head  said.  Time  was.  I  have  been  happyi^ 
and  hope  to  be  so  again» 


1764. 


SkebaTf  January  10. 
I  orxEN  lose  myself  insensibly,  in  the  recollection  of  our  past 
times }  and  purchase  the>ecall  of  the  most  valued  pleasures  at  the 
ezpenseof  only  a  transient  sigh.  I  think  of  our  evening  walks 
and  retirements,  when  the  setting  sun,  the  trees,  the  birds,  and 
prospects,  bave  contributed  to  enrich  the  scene  ;  though  your 
company  was,  to  me,  that  which  completed  and  crowned  the 
whole.  I  reflect  with  pleasure  on  some  seasons  when  our  thoughts 
have  risen  faster  than  words  could  give  them  utterance,  and  we 
have  surprised  the  tears  silently  stealing  down  our  cheeks.  What 
would  the  gay  and  fashionable  world  say  to  such  a  representa- 
tion ?  They  live  in  too  much  hurry,  and  have  too  little  reflec- 
tion, to  understand  this  elegance  of  soul,  which,  under  the  guise 
of  grief,  aflbrds  the  sincerest  pleasure.  My  own  experience  would 
almost  lead  me  to  maintain  what  you,  perhaps,  will  think  a  para- 
dox— ^That  they  who  best  love,  are  best  qualified  to  support  the 


THUU>  TOTAGE  TO  APBICA.  d9 

pains  and  anxieties  of  absence.  Such  strains  of  tiiought  as  I  have 
mentioned,  yield  me  more  satisfaction  than  all  the  gewgaws  of  the 
great  or  wealthy  could  do»  But  it  will  not  therefore  follow,  that 
people  who  are  indifferent  when  together,  are  better  pleased  when 
asunder.  In  the  former  case,  they  are  soon  weary  of  each  other  ; 
in  the  latter  they  are  soon  weary  of  themselves.  However,  to  me« 
the  past  and  the  future  afford  abundant  subject  for  agreeable 
musing ;  and  even  the  present,  though  not  very  agreeable  in  it- 
self, becomes  in  some  measure  so,  when  I  consider  that  I  am  here 
for  your  sake.  And  I  am  glad  of  tlie  opportunity  of  manifesting 
that  neither  difficulties,  nor  dangers,  nor  distance,  nor  time,  can 
abate  the  sense  of  what  I  owe  you.  However  the  case  may  be 
now,  I  can  remember  the  time  when  you  could  have  done  very 
well  without  roe.  The  first  obligation,  which  was  the  ground  of 
every  other,  was  entirely  on  your  side ;  and  I  still  think  myself 
far  short  of  repaying  it*  Though,  if  1  could  cancel  that,  y^u 
have  taken  care  to  superadd  new  ones  every  succeeding  day 
since. 


BioJunkt  January  17. 

In  the  midst  of  a  thousand  hurries  ai|d  avocations,  I  must  steal 
a  few  minutes  to  converse  with  you.  I  have  been  almost  wearied 
to-day  with  noise,  heat,  smoke,  and  business ;  but  when  I  think  of 
you,  the  inconvenience  is  gone.  Which  of  your  learned  philoso- 
phers can  define  this  wonderful,  transforming  thing  called  Love, 
that  can  infuse  a  degree  of  pleasure  into  trouble  and  disquiet  i 

The  ship  that  is  to  take  my  packet,  is  upon  the  point  of  sailing. 
I  must  witid  up  all,  with  fervent  prayers,  that  it  may  please  the 
Lord,  the  giver  of  all  good,  to  preserve  us  in  peace  and  depen- 
dence during  the  appointed  term  of  our  separation;  and,  in  his 
good  hour,  to  give  us  a  happy  meeting ;  and  that  we  may  learn 
to  wait  for  that  time  with  patience,  with  thankfulness  that  our 
prospects  are  only  delayed,  or  prorogued,  and  not  wholly  cut  ofl', 
as  has  been  the  case  with  many,  since  we  first  joined  hands. 
Above  all,  I  pray^  that  in  every  scene  of  life  we  may  prepare  for 
what  we  know  must,  sooner  or  later,  take  place  ;  that  we  may 
believe  and  act  upon  the  principles  of  the  Gospel,  to  the  glory  of 
onr  Maker  and  Redeemer  here,  and  then  we  shall  be  happy  for 
ever  hereafter,  beyond  the  reach  of  sorrow  or  pain,  and  shall  never 
more  know  what  it  is  to  part.' 


Id9  tftTMits  to  A  mm. 


Rio  Sestosy  January  it  4 
LoBi>  Orr£rt  remarks^  upon  a  letter  ofPliny  (whom,  Ithinky 
I  formerly  mentioned)  to  his  wife's  aunt,  that  the  eiamples  of 
delicate  conjugal  love  have  been  few^  He  says,  "  Men  cannot,  or 
will  not,  see  the  excellencies  of  their  wives.  From  the  day  of 
marriage,  the  woman  lays  aside  her  reserve,  and  the  man  his  civil- 
ity. She  grows  forward  and  overbearing;  he  becomes  sour 
and  snappish.  Or  if  they  appear  fond,  (as,  from  the  novelty  of 
the  state,  it  sometimes  happens,)  the  grossness  of  the  passion  is 
too  nauseous  to  be  named."  Whenever  I  meet  with  an  observa- 
tion of  this  kind,  it  is  an  unspeakable  pleasure  to  me  to  refiect, 
that  I  can  put  in  an  exception  to  it,  in  both  your  name  and  my 
own.  Were  I  even  assured  that  the  whole  time  since  Pliny  and 
Calphumia  lived  (which  is  more  than  sixteen  hundred  years) 
horded  only  forty  such  happy  couples,  I  should  not  scruple  to 
include  you  and  myself  in  the  number.  And  in  this  conscious- 
tiess,  I  find  more  pleasure  than  the  greatest  affluence  of  wealth 
could  give  me.  1  have  enough.  I  have  all  in  that  mutual  af- 
fection with  which  it  has  pleased  God  to  bless  us,  and  without 
which,  the  treasures  of  both  the  Indies  would,  to  me,  be  useless 
and  tasteless.  I  think  I  have  now  some  right  to  speak  thus  ;  for 
the  experience  of  nearly  fqur  years  has  convinced  me,  t(iat  either 
the  novelty  so  much  talked  of,  is  not  necessary  to  my  satisfaction } 
or  else,  which  amounts  to  the  same  thing,  that  I  find  some  new 
cause  of  endearment  in  you  every  day^ 


Rio  Sestos,  January  25. 

t  siPBCtBti,  before  I  left  England,  that  the  present  voyage 
Would  not  prove  successful,  in  point  ol  profit ;  and  I  was  not  mis- 
taken. I  shall  hardly  reach  the  half  of  my  last  year's  purchase. 
I  hope  the  vessel  I  have  bought,  to  trade  after  I  am  gone,  may 
secure  the  owners'  interest ;  bat  my  own  part  of  the  afiairs  will 
probably  be  moderate  enough. 

If  a  sigh  should  escape  you  on  this  accoimt,  I  beg  you  to  re- 
collect yourself,  and  not  indulge  a  second.  Remember,  that  this 
failure  in  dirty  money  matters  is  the  only  abatement  we  have 
hitherto  met  with  ;  and  that^  in  other  respects,  we  have  as  much 
the  advantage  of  those  who  are  envied  by  the  world,  as  we  &11 
short  of  them  in  riches.  We  have  blessings  which  riches  cannot 
purchase,  nor  compensate  for  the  want  of.  And  I  see  much 
cause  for  thankfulness  that  things  are  no  worse.  We  want  for 
liothing  at  present  5  and  for  the  future,  we  may  safely  rely  on  the 


TAIRD  irOTAOK  TO  AfBTdA.  101 

gdod  Providence  that  has  done  so  much  for  as  already.  Besides, 
what  /may  get  by  an  indifferent  voyage,  woald,  by  many,  be 
ihougfat  a  great  sum^  We  are  both  ,  sensible  that  we  are  too 
short-sighted  to  choose  well  for  ourselves,  if  the  choice  were  aU 
lowed  us  ;  and,  therefore,  hope  we  shall  agree  to  resign  our  con- 
cerns to  the  disposal  of  a  better  wisdom  thanour  own. 

When  I  look  back,  and  reflect  upon  the  difficulties  from  which 
1  have  been  relieved,  and  the  advantages  1  have  obtained  beyond 
my  former  hopes  and  probabilities,  it  would  be  very  disingenu- 
ous in  me  to  distrsss  myself  about  small  matters.  Nor  need  I  be 
over-anxious  upon  your  account,  for  God  can  easily  provide  for 
us,  now  we  are  joined  in  one  interest,  as  if  we  bad  continued 
separate.  If  we  make  our  chief  application  for  what  chiefly  de- 
serves it,  we  are  assured  that  all  inferior  good  things,  in  such  a 
measure  and  manner  as  is  most  expedient  for  us,  will  surely  be 
added  to  us.  Perhaps  we  may  not  be  rich-— no  matter.  We  are 
rich  in  love.  We  are  rich  indeed^  if  the  promises  and  providence 
of  God  are  our  inheritance.  And  at  present,  we  have  every  con- 
venience, and  I  can  think  of  no  one  thing,  really  desirable,  the 
greatest  sum  of  money  could  procure  us,  which  we  have  not  al- 
ready, unless  it  vrert  to  free  us  from  the  necessity  of  these  fre^ 
quent  and  long  separations. 

This  thought,  indeed,  were  I  to  yield  to  my  first  emotions^ 
would  make  me  more  foad  of  gold  than  a  miser ;  though,  in 
every  other  view,  I  can  despise  it.  But  when  I  am  cool,  as  my 
conscience  tells  me  that  I  am  unworthy  of  so  great  a  blessing,  so 
my  experience  persuades  me  that  probably  I  cannot,  as  yet,  be 
safely  trusted  with  it.  Perhaps  the  event  might  prove  worse  than 
any  thing  which  has  hitherto  befallen  us.  I  am  willing,  indeed^ 
to  hope  it  would  be  otherwise,  but  my  heart  is  deceitful,  and  has^ 
more  than  dnce,  deceived  me  in  this  very  point.  I  might  grow 
secure,  and  gradually  neglect  the  due  improvement  of  such  addi-^ 
tiou  to  my  talents.  Nay,  such  is  the  unhappy  depravity  of  hu^ 
man  nature,  that  I  cannot  be  sure  I  might  not,  in  time,  be  permit-^ 
ted,  for  my  punishment,  to  forget  what  I  owe  to  you.  It  is  true, 
that  at  this  moment  of  writing,  it  seems  quite  as  easy  for  me  to 
forget  to  speak,  or  to  breathe ;  but  there  is  an  unhappy  gradation, 
often  observable  in  the  coarse  of  life,  by  which  people,  from  in- 
sensible beginnings,  are  carried  on  to  things  which  once  they 
conld  not  have  thought  of  without  horror.  The  first  deviation 
from  the  paths  of  duty  and  peace  are  scarcely  discernible,  but 
they  become  wider  and  wider. 

1  innst  recall,  or  soften,  this  last  supposition ;  for  I  cannot  bear 
even  to  suppose  it.  Can  I  possibly  forget  you  f  I  hope  not. 
Sdrely  it  would  be  better  for  me  to  be  condemned  to  the  mines 


1Q2  LftTTBES    TO  A  WIFE.  ^, 

for  life,  than  to  be  deprived  of  that  grateful  confidence  with  which 
my  heart  at  this  instant  overflows — ^that  t  am  yours,  and  that  you 
are  mine.  This,  I  trust,  will  be  among  the  last  reflections  I  shall 
be  capable  of  making  in  this  world.  But,  that  it  may  be  so,  I 
wish  to  acquiesce  in  whatever  methods  it  shall  please  God  to  ap- 
point for  the  continuance  of  my  afiection.  Perhaps  he  sees  that 
these  intervals  of  absence  are  the  best  means  for  preserving  me 
from  an  evil  which  1  dread  more  than  a  dungeon  or  a  galley.  If 
it  were  otherwise,  or  whenever  I  attain  strength  sufficient  to  bear 
the  indulgence  without  abusing  it,  he  can  easily  put  it  in  our  power 
to  live  together  here  till  we  are  meet  to  be  removed  to  a  nappy 
hereafter.  The  great  word  Eternity^  rishtly  understood,  is  a  cure 
for  every  evil,  and  casts  a  shade  upon  the  brightest  prospects  that 
all  on  this  side  the  grave  can  furnish.  To  us,  I  hope,  it  will  be 
an  eternity  of  happiness. 


Fehrwtry  2. 

Among  the  many  congratulations  you  will  probably  receive  to- 
day, I  believe  you  will  think  none  more  sincere  or  acceptable 
than  mine  ;  though,  perhaps,  I  am  in  nothing  more  singular  or 
unfashionable  than  in  my  manner  of  ezpressmg  them.  The  re- 
turn of  your  birth-day  requires  from  me  an  acknowledgment  of 
the  same  kind  as  the  return  of  my  own.  I  commemorate  both  in 
the  same  manner.  I  was  up  lone  before  the  sun  this  morning,  to 
invoke  a  blessing  upon  you,  and  to  pray  that  this  may  prove  a 
happy  birth-day  to  you,  in  my  sense  of  the  word.  I  am  writing 
jn  a  tornado.  The  elements  seem  all  at  war  over  my  head^  but  1 
thank  God  I  have  peace  within  ;  and  the  storm  does  not  interrupt 
my  thoughts  of  you. 

The  day  reminds  me  of  that  (prophetical,  shall  I  call  it^  agree- 
ment between  your  mother  and  mine,  when  we  were  in  leading- 
strings  ;  that,  if  we  lived  to  grow  up  we  should  be  man  and  wife. 
There  seems,  indeed,  nothing  extraordinary  in  such  a  discourse 
taking  place  between  intimate  friends.  But  as,  afterwards,  the 
intercourse  between  our  families  was  totally  broken  ofl*  for  many 
years,  and  renewed  by  me,  in  the  most  contingent,  and  as  the 
phrase  is,  accidental  manner,  when  I  did  not  even  rightly  know 
your  name  ;  add  to  this,  the  unusual  impression  the  first  sight  of 
you  made  upon  my  mind,  when  we  were  both  so  young  that  I 
knew  not  what,  or  why,  I  loved  :  and  further,  the  many  difficulties 
which  attended  my  pursuit,  which  was  begun  and  carried  on  for 
jr^ars,  against  the  advice  and  consent  of  all  your  friends,  and  of 
all  mine  ;  and  what  seemed  the  greatest  bar  of  all,  against  your 
own  inclination  likewise  ; — I  say,  taking  all  these  circumstances 


TBIRD    VOTAOC    tO  AFEICA.  103 

(oeether,  I  cannot  but  think  it  remarkable  that  we  were  so  part^ 
cularly  laid  out  for  each  other  when  we  were  infants.  However 
this  may  be,  1  have  abundant  reason  to  praise  the  Lord,  that  be- 
fore I  had  been  four  years  in  the  world,  he  should  provide  for  me, 
in  you,  the  greatest  blessing  of  my  life  ;  with  which  he  purposed 
to  enhance  and  crown  all  his  other  mercies  to  me  ;  and  that  you 
mieht  be,  in  time,  as  a  guardian  angel,  to  preserve  me  from  ruin. 
I  desire  to  praise  him  for  all  the  g^xlness  that  has  followed  you, 
from  the  hour  I  am  commemorating  to  this  day ;  for  the  gracious 
protection  which  preserved  you  for  me  through  your  early  years ; 
for  your  health  and  satisfaction  since  you  have  been  mine  ;  and 
for  enabling  me,  thus  far,  to  answer  the  trust  you  have  reposed  in 
me.  And  I  humbly  pray  that  our  affections  and  engagements 
may  be  preserved  inviolable  between  ourselves,  and  in  a  proper 
subordination  to  what  we  owe  to  him,  the  great  Lord  of  all. 


Settera  CruCj  February  6. 
I  HAVE  calculated,  that  if  all  the  letters  I  have  sent  you  since 
our  first  parting,  in  May,  50,  were  transcribed  in  order,  they 
would  fill  one  hundred  and  twenty  such  sheets  as  this,  on  all 
sides.  An  eye,  less  favourable  than  yours,  might  find  very  many 
faults  in  so  large  a  collection  ;  but  if  tney  have  the  merit  of  pleas- 
ing you,  it  pleases  me  more  to  have  written  them,  than  if  I  had 
published  so  many  volumes,  to  be  applauded  by  the  world.  I 
hope  I  need  not  be  ashamed  of  them,  if  the^  were  to  fell  into 
other  hands.  I  hope  1  have,  in  general,  expi'essed  my  regard  in 
terms  which  reason  and  religion  will  waiTant.  I  consider  our  un- 
ion as  a  peculiar  effect  and  gift  of  an  indulgent  Providence  ;  and^ 
therefore,  as  a  talent  to  be  improved  to  higher  ends,  to  the  pro- 
mobng  his  will  and  service  upon  earth,  and  to  the  assisting  each  - 
other  to  prepare  for  an  eternal  state,  to  which  a  few  years,  at  the 
furthest,  wilt  introduce  us.  Were  these  points  wholly  neglected, 
however  great  our  satisfaction  might  be  for  the  present,  it  would 
be  better  never  to  have  seen  each  other ;  since  the  time  must  soon 
come,  when,  of  all  the  endearments  of  Our  connexion,  nothing 
will  remain  but  the  consciousness  how  greatly  we  were  favoured, 
and  how  we  improved  the  favours  we  possessed.  We  shall  hero- 
after  have  reason  to  be  thankful,  even  for  these  frequent  separa- 
tions, if  they  should  conduce  to  fix  these  views  more  effectually  in- 
cur minds.  With  such  thoughts  L  endeavour  to  oppose  my  impa- 
tience to  3ee  you.  My  occasional  anxieties,  and  my  indinerence 
to  every  thing  around  me,  when  you  are  not  with  me,  I  compare^ 
to  the  sense  •f  feeling  which  often  costs  a  person  pain  ;  but  if  hel 
were  destitute  of  it,  he  would  be  incapable  of  pleasure,  and  little 


104  LBTTfi&S   TO   A  WIVE* 

better  than  dead.  If  my  heart  were  not  susceptive  of  love  and 
tenderness,  I  might  escape  many  a  twinge  ;  but  I  have  not  suffered 
enough  to  make  me  envy  those  whose  whole  thought  and  soltci" 
tude  terminate  on  thc|ir  own  dear  selves. 


Settera  Crue^  February  12. 

What  1  daily  acknowledge  as  the  greatest  blessing  of  my  life, 
the  return  of  tiiis  day  reminds  me  to  notice  more  particularly.  It 
is  the  anniversary  of  our  marriase  ;  a  point  I  had  so  much  at 
heart ;  in  which  I  had  long  so  litUe  probability  of  succeeding,  was 
so  very  unworthy  of  success,  and  which  has  so  happily  answered, 
1  may  indeed  say  exceeded  my  expectation  ; — when  I  consider 
all  these  items  together,  1  am  at  a  loss  for  words  to  express  my 
thankfulness  to  God.  For  four  whole  years  I  have  possessed  the 
height  of  my  wishes.  I  do  not  except  even  these  necessary  inter- 
vals of  absence  ;  because  I  have  been  enabled  to  support  them  as 
well  as  I  myself  can  desire  ;  and  because  the  consciousness  of 
your  affection,  of  which  neither  absence  nor  distance  can  deprive 
me,  affords  me  a  continual  feast. 

I  arose  before  the  sun  to  pray  and  give  thanks  for  you,  and  to 
beg  that  you  may  always  find  as  much  satisfaction  as  you  have 
raised  me  to ;  and  that  we  may  both  have  grace  to  act  answera- 
biy  to  the  advantages  we  have  above  thousands.  If  you  look 
round  upon  those^  of  your  acquaintance  who  have  entered  tlie 
marriage  state  abobt  the  time  we  did,  I  believe  you  will  find  but 
few  who  do  not,  in  some  degree,  betray  a  sense  of  disappoiat* 
ment ;  or,  who  are  so  entirely  satisfied  with  each  other  as,  I  trust, 
we  are.  I  do  not  mean  to  form  a  comparison  withany  one  in  my 
own  favour.  Sincerity  and  tenderness  are  the  chief  of  my  inven- 
tory ;  buf  if  I  ever  g»*ow  richer  in  accomplishments,  both  the  praise 
and  the  profit  ought  to  be  yours  ;  and  who  can  tell  how  far  a  de-^ 
sire  to  appear  deserving  of  you  may,  at  length,  carry  me  ? 

The  occasion  might  now  lead  me  to  a  more  serious  strain,  and 
to  consider  how  we  may  make  these  blossoms  of  temporal  good 
bear  firuit  for  eternity ;  but  for  this,  I  shall  at  present  refer  you  to 
what  I  wrote  on  your  birth  day.  Let  us  remember,  that  in  all  sit- 
uations, whether  pleased  or  pained,  we  are  equally  advancing  to- 
wards an  unchangeable  eternity.  It  is  a  part  of  human  happiness, 
if  rightly  understood,  to  know  that  the  very  best  of  it  must,  ere 
long,  be  parted  with  for  something  unspeakably  better. 


THIRD    VOYAOE   TO   AFRICA.  105 


RioJunque^  March  1. 
I  STILL  continue  in  health,  and  all  is  well,  excepting  one  late 
circumstance,  which  has  given  me,  as  you  will  believe,  much  con- 
cern ;  but  I  have  now  got  over  it.  Not  to  keep  you  in  suspense, 
longer  than  iust  to  prevent  surprise,  I  must  inform  you  that  all 
my  schemes  in  favour  of  Captain  L****  arc  at  an  end.  I  told 
you,  in  a  former  letter,  that  I  had  bought  a  vessel  upon  the  coast, 
and  had  given  him  the  command  of  her.     He  went  from  me  ia 

!^ood  spirits,  and  with  high  hopes,  but  was  seized  with  a  fever  be- 
ore  he  had  left  me  three  weeks,  which  proved  fatal  to  him  in 
about  eight  days.  I  have  been  much  affected  by  this  sudden 
stroke.  I  have  known  him  long,  and  believe  he  had  a  true  regard 
for  me :  and  it  was  by  my  inducement  that  he  came  hither* 
There  are  other  reasons  for  my  concern,  which  I  need"  not  men- 
tion to  you.  But  the  will  of  God  has  taken  place,  and  it  is  my  part 
IV  submit. 

May  we  both  profit  from  this  recent  and  awful  instance  of  the 
vanitv  and  uncertainty  of  human  life,  and  of  all  relating  to  it.  A 
healthy  constitution  and  sprightly  temper  afford  no  security  from 
death.  How  many  such  have  I  seen  cut  off  from  this  coast !  And 
yet  I,  though  supposed  by  many  people  to  be  in  a  consumption, 
and  not  likely  to  hold  out  for  one  voyage,  are  preserved  from 
year  to  year  ?  Let  us  feel  the  expediency  of  preparing  for  a 
change,  which,  sooner  or  later,  we  must  experience.  The  death 
of  every  friend  is  a  warning  to  the  survivors.  And  your^  and 
mine  will,  perhaps,  by  some  of  our  acquaintance  who  knew  how 
much  we  loved,  and  how  happy  we  were  in  each  other,  be  alleged 
as  a  new  proof  that  even  those  temporal  satisfactions  which  will 
best  abide  the  test  of  reflection,  are  no  less  frail  and  transient  than 
any  other. 

I  am  in  such  a  scene  of  confusion  and  noise,  that  I  hardly  know 
what  I  write.     I  only  read,  or  think,,  as  it  were,  by  starts. 


At  Sea,  April  8. 

It  is  a  whole  fortnight  since  I  wrote  to  you,  and  seems  to  me 

much  longer.     I  know  you  will  charge  my  silence  to  the  hurry  of 

business,  and  not  to  neglect.    But  f  can  now  make  you  amends, 

by  informing  you  that  I  ain,  once  more,  clear  of  the  coast  of 

Guinea.     I  sailed  from  Shebar  yesterday  morning.  •  I  have  left 

my  chief  mate,  Mr.  W****,  in  possession  of  the  Race-Horse, 

(the  vessel  which  I  purchased  for  Capt.  L.)  with  about  a  thousand 

pounds  worth  of  my  cargo,  which  I  could  not  dispose  of  in  the  lim- 

e  d  t^m  of  my  stay  on  tbe  coast  ^  which  I  bop<MViU  save  tl^e 

Vol.  IV.  14 


lOft  LETTERS    TO   A   WIFE. 

voyage  to  the  owners.  As  to  my  own  profit,  though  it  may  not 
be  so  great  as  might  have  been  expected,  I  hope  it  will  be  suffi- 
cient.    A  safe  return  tb  you  will  make  up  all  deficiencies. 

This  has  been  a  fatal  season  to  many  persons  upon  the  coast. 
I  think  I  never  before  heard  of  so  many  dead,  lost,  or  destroyed, 
in  one  year.  But  I  haye  been  kept  in  perfect  health,  and  have 
buried  neither  White  nor  Black.  Let  us  praise  God  for  his  singu- 
lar goodness  to  us,  and  take  encouraeeoient  to  hope  and  pray 
that  he  will  crown  this  voyage  also  with  a  comfortable  meeting. 
Amen« 


M  Sea,  April  18. 

A  FEW  days  ago  1  informed  vou  that  1  had  left  Africa,  in  good 
health  and  spirits.  It  has  now  pleased  God  to  give  me^  in  my  own 
person,  an  experience  of  that  uncertainty  of  all  human  afeirs, 
which  I  have  so  often  remarked  in  Ihe  concerns  of  others. 

1  have  been  ill  three  days,  of  a  fever,  which,  though  it  is  at  pres- 
ent attended  with  no  symptoms  particularly  dangerous,  it  behooyes 
me  to  considerTnay  terminate  in  death.  I  have  endeavoured  to 
compose  myself  to  the  summons,  if  it  should  so  prove.  And  I 
hope  I  may  say,  I  am,  in  some  measure,  ready  to  live  or  to  die,  as 
may  be  appointed ;  and  that  I  desire  not  to  choose  for  myself,  in 
this  case,  more  than  in  any  other.  One  specious  excuse,  with 
which  I  have  often  covered  my  desire  of  life,  was,  that  I  might 
have  opportunity  of  doing  something  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the 
good  of  my  fellow-creatures  ;  that  I  might  not  go  quite  useless 
out  of  the  world.  But,  alas !  I  have  so  little  improved  the  talents 
and  occasions  which  have  been  already  afforded  me,  that  I  am 
ashamed  to  offer  this  plea  any  more.  My  only  remaining  con- 
cern is  upon  your  account ;  and,  even  in  that,  I  am  in  a  measure 
relieved,  from  the  following  considerations. 

My  first  and  principal  consolation  *is  in  the  hope  that  we  are 
both  under  the  influence  of  religious  principles,  and  that  you,  as 
well  as  myself,  are  persuaded  that  no  trouble  or  change  can  befall 
us  by  chance.  Whenever  a  separation  shall  take  place,  as,  if  not 
now,  it  sooner  or  later  must ;  it  will  be  by  the  express  act  and 
will  of  the  same  wise  and  good  Providence  which  brought  us  to^ 
gether  at  first,  has  dven  us  so  much  in  each  other  already,  and 
has  contimaally  shielded  us,  as  yet,  from  the  various  harms  which 
have  been  fatal  to  many  of  our  acquaintance.  Further,  I  consider 
that  The  time  u  short.  If  I  go  now,  in  a  few  years,  perhaps  much 
sooner,  you  will  follow  me,  I  hope  in  the  same  oath,  depending 
wholly  on  the  divine  mercv,  through  faith  in  the  blood  ana  media- 
tion of  Jeaus  Christ  our  lledeemyer,  according  to  the  plaioi  Jiteral 


tttlltD   TOTALS  TO   XnVCA.  Kft 

terras  of  the  Gospel.  It  is  in  this  faith  I  am  now  happy.  This 
bears  me^  in  a  measure,  above  my  fears  and  sins,  above  ray  sick-* 
Bess,  and  above  the  many  agreeable  views  I  had  formed  in  my 
mind  upon  a  happy  return  to  you.  May  this  be  your  support, 
your  guide,  and  sbidd,  and  I  can  ask  no  more  for  you.  Then 
j^oo  will,  at  last,  attain  complete  and  unfading  happiness ;  and  we 
shall  meet  again,  and,  perhaps,  to  join  in  recollecting  the  scenes 
we  have  been  engaged  in  together  while  upon  earth.  Then,  prob- 
ably, we  shall  clearly  see  what  I  now  believe,  and  from  which  I 
derive  another  reason  for  acquiescence — ^that  as  the  goodness  of 
God  first  joined  us,  so  it  was  his  m^rcy  that  parted  us  again; 
nercy  to  each,  to  both  of  as. 

We  have,  perhaps,^  been  sometimes  too  happy  in  each  other) 
to  have  been  always,  or  longer  so,  might  have  betrayed  us  into  a 
dangerous  security.  We  might  have  forgotten  our  present  duty 
and  our  future  destination.  It  has  been  too  much  the  case  already  ^ 
1  have  greatly  failed  m3rself,  and  I  have  been  but  a  poor  example 
for  you.  Should  it,  therefore,  please  God  to  make  my  death  the 
happy  occasion  of  fixing  your  dependence,  hope,  and  desire  upon 
him  alone,  surely  I  can  say,  Thy  will  be  done.  My  heart  bleeds 
when  I  represent  to  myself  the  grief  with  which  such  an  event  would 
overwhelm  you.  But  I  know  that  He  can  moderate  and  sanctify 
it,  and  give  you  cause  hereafter  to  say.  It  was  good  for  you  to 
have  been  afflicted;  and,  ere  long,  the  time  will  come  when  att 
^ars  shall  be  wiped  both  from  your  eyes  and  mine. 


At  Sea,  April  30. 
It  has  pleased  God  to  give  me  another  reprieve.  The  fever 
has  left  me,  and  I  feel  my  strength  returning.  You  will  congrat* 
vlate  me  on  n^  recovery.  I  thank  you.  But  let  us  not  be  too 
secure.  A  relapse  may  soon  happen ;  or  twenty  unforeseen  events 
.may,  without  sickness,  prove  equally  decisive.  I  hope  I  am,  in 
some  measure,  thankful  for  the  present,  and  not  anxious  about 
the  future ;  for  the  Lord  will  appoint  what  is  best  for  us.  My 
head  was  much  confused  when  I  wrote  last;  but  I  shall  let  it  stand 
as  a  specimen  of  my  thoughts  in  the  hour  of  triak  I  endeavour- 
ed, from  the  first,  to  compose  my  mind  for  departure  hence,  if 
such  should  be  the  will  of  God.  And  n^  belief  of  the  Gospel 
(which  I  once  despised)  made  me  tolerably  easy  and  resigned* 
When  this  grand  point  was,  according  to  my  poor  attainment, 
settled,  you  were  the  chief,  the  sole  object  of  my  remaining  soli* 
citHde ;  and  I  was  desirous  of  leaving  a  few  fines,  while  the  fever 
«lid  aot  reader  me  quite  incapable  of  writingi  to#€ertij|y  you  ia- 


108  t£tT£E9   to.  A  Wire. 

what  manner  1  was  enabled  to  meet  niy  summonB ;  and  to  kave 
you  my  farewell  advice,  my  blessings  and  my  thanks.  Bot  before 
I  could  finish  what  I  intended,  ihe  occasion  was  mercifully  re- 
moved. 

I  hope  the  remembrance  of  this  visitation  will  be  a  long  and 
constant  benefit  to  me,  and  will  give  me  a  better  sense  of  the 
value  of  health,  which  I  had  been  favoured  with  so  long,  that  it 
seemed  almost  a  thing  of  course^  I  bless  God  for  restoring  it  to 
me  again.  If  it  be  his  will,  I  shall  be  glad  to  live  a  little  longer, 
Qpon  many  accounts  ;  and  among  the  chief,  for  your  sake.  And, 
eh  !  may  it  please  him  to  spare  you  for  me  likewise,  and  to  grant 
that  we  may  again  meet  in  peace  !  My  eyes  will  not  yet  allow  me 
tQ  write  much. 


At  Sea,  May  16. 

1  SEKO  this  by  a  Vessel  which  will  probably  arrive  in  England 
before  you  can  have  any  news  of  me  from  St.  Christopher's,  to 
inform  you  that  the  Lord  has  brought  us  safely  within  about  a 
week's  sail  of  that  island.  I  have  before  mentioned  the  death  of 
Capt.  L****,  which  was,  indeed^  a  trial  j  but  I  soon  acquiesced, 
as  I  ought  always,  in  the  will  of  God.  When  I  consider.  It  is 
the  Lord,  should  not  I  add.  Let  him  do  as  seemeth  him  good  ! 

There  is^  indeed,  one  trial  to  which  I  always  stand  exposed ; 
should  this  come,  my  heart  and  conscience  give  me  cause  to  fear 
that  not  only  moral  arguments,  but  the  poor  attainments  I  have 
made  in  religion  would  fail,  unless  I  was  immediately  strengthen* 
cd  from  above.  And  I  humbly  trust  I  shall  be,  i{  I  am  ever  called 
to  a  scene,  which,  at  present,  overpowers  my  spirits  when  I  but 
transiently  think  of  it.  Yes  !  God  could  enable  me  to  resign 
you  also !  He  has  promised  strength  according  to  our  day ;  and 
he  is  compassionate  and  faithful. 

Since  I  left  Africa,  I  have  been  ill  of  a  fever.  It  was  rather 
violent,  but  unattended  with  pains,  delirium,  or.  any  thi*eatcning 
symptom,  and  lasted  but  eight  or  ten  days.  Though  it  was  not 
of  the  most  dangerous  species,  I  thought  it  right  to  consider  it  as 
a  warning  to  prepare  for  eternity  ;  and  I  praise  God,  the  princi- 
ples upon  which  1  am  to  rest  my  hope  when  in  health,  did  not  lail 
mc  in  sickness.  In  surrendering  myself  entirely  to  the  mercy  and 
care  of  my  Lord  and  Saviour,  my  ho|)es  so  much  exceeded  my 
fears,  that  had  it  been  his  will,  1  seemed  contented  to  give  up, 
•ven  all  those  prospects  which  your  love  and  a  happy  return  to 
vou  afibrded  me,  (for,  at  that  time,  no  other  temporal  prospects 
had  the  least  weight  with  me,)  and  to  have  died  in  the  midst  of 


THIBD   VOTAGE   TO   AFRICA.  109 

the  pathless  ocean,  at  a  distance  from  every  friend.  If  my  senses 
had  not  failed,  1  should  have  died  praying  that  yon  might  be  sup- 
ported, and  the  stroke  sanctified  to  you.  I  wrote  a  letter  to  you 
in  my  illness,  (confused  as  my  head  wfis,)  when  I  was  not  without 
apprehension  that  it  would  he  the  last  service  my  hand  would  per- 
form for  me  :  but  the  Lord  has  been  merciful  to  me  :  I  am  not 
only  still  living,  but  perfectly  recovered  ! 


St.  KitVs,  Sandy  Point,  May  30. 
We  arrived  here  the  21st  instant,  and  1  received  your  dear 
obliging  letter  of  the  16th  of  February. 

Before  now,  I  hope  you  have  received  an  account  of  my  cele- 
bration of  your  birth-day,  and  the  happy  consequences  of  it,  the 
day  of  our  marriage.  You  say  you  endeavoured  to  imitate  me 
on  the  return  of  these  days,  not  only  in  observing  them,  but  in 
the  same  manner.  My  own  attempts  are  so  unsuitable  to  what  I 
could  wish,  that  I  cannot  suppose  yours  inferior  to  them.  1  hope 
you  will  always  copy  after  a  more  perfect  pattern.  Our  prayers 
have  been  thus  far  answered,  and  I  hope  the  hour  of  meeting  is  not 
very  distant.  You  will  be  the  more  sensible  of  this  mercy,  when 
you  receive  information  of  my  illness,  on  the  passage,  and  that 
my  life  was,  for  a  day  or  two,  thought  very  dubious  by  those 
about  me.  My  health  was  restored  nt  sea ;  but,  for  want  of 
fresh  provisions  and  proper  nourishment,  (for  I  had  distributed 
my  stock  among  the  sick  seamen  before  I  was  taken  ill  myself,) 
*  I  continued  rather  faint  and  weak  ;  but  now,  at  Mr.  G****'s  I 
have  not  only  necessaries,  but  delicacies,  and  allow  myself  more 
indulgence  than  usual,  with  a  view  of  recruiting. 

I  am  glad  you  think  my  picture  like  me.  I  cannot  persuade 
myself  to  think  so  of  yours ;  yet  I  frequently  look  at  it,  and  talk 
to  tt,  because  you  sat  for  it ;  and  I  can  supply  the  defects  of  it 
from  my  mind,  where  the  dear  original  is  painted,  or  rather  en- 
graved, to  the  greatest  exactness.  'There  1  have  traces  impressed 
which  no  pencil^ could  copy ;  a  lively  represeniation.  not  only  of 
your  person,  but  of  your  heart. 

Now  and  then  I  have  been  constrained  to  omit  our  noon-tido 
Qppoint«ient ;  but  in  general  I  have  observed  it  wjth  much  pleas- 
ure, and  have  found  it  Ofle  of  the  best  alleviations  of  your  absence. 
At  present  the  time  falls  out  with  me  about  eight  in  the  morning, 
which  is  rather  inconvenient ;  but  I  try  to  make  it  up,  more  or 
less,  through  die  day  ;  and  I  believe  that  one  waking  hour  of  my 
Cfc,  since  I  parted  with  you,  has  seldom  passed  without  some 
breathing  of  prayer  in  yonr  behalf. 


110  L^nCM   TO   A   Wltfe 


Sandy  Pointy  June  ?. 

I  UAVE  found  fewer  opportuoiti^s  of  writing  than  I  expected  f 
but,  before  the  close  of  this  mbntb,  I  hope  to  be  at  sea  myself,  on 
my  way  home.  Remember  what  t  have  formerly  written  upon 
such  occasions,  to  prevent  your  uneasiness ;  or  rather,  remember 
what  the  Lord  has  written  for  your  encouragement :  "  When  thou 
passest  througb  the  waters,  I  will  be  with  thee/'  In  all  the  dan- 
gers and  difficulties  that  may  affect  either  of  us,  our  God  is  ever 
present.  May  we  lecrn  to  sanctify  him  in  our  hearts,  and  to 
hiake  him  ouf  dread,  and  we  need  fear  nothing.  It  is  my  daily 
earnest  prayer  that  you  may  find  peace  and  comfort  in  his  pro- 
mises, which  are  all  yea  and  amen  in  Jesus  our  Redeemer,  to  them 
who  trust  in  his  atdneroent  and  mediation.  If  we  have  him  on 
our  side,  nothing  can 'be  against  us,  so  as  to  separate  us  from  bis 
love.  Through  him  we  shall  prove  more  than  conquerors.  Bui 
if  we  rely  on  ourselves,  or  on  any  thing  else  short  of  that  only 
Rock  of  salvation,  we  shall  be  confused  and  shaken.r 

The  enclosed  was  written  chiefly  during  my  sickness^  after  leav- 
ing the  coast.  I  had  some  expectation  it  would  have  been  my 
last  'y  but  God  was  merciful  to  me.  I  desired  to  live  upon  youa 
account,  and  my  desire  was  granted.  At  present  I  am  in  perfect 
health,  and  happy  in  the  hope  of  being  soon  restored  to  you 
again. 


Sandif  Point,  June  13.  * 
t  HAVE  picked  up  a  valuable  acquaintance  here,  of  whom  1 
hope  to  tell  you  more  soon.  I  was  going  to  say  he  is  one  of  my 
stamp ;  but  he  is  far  beyond  me,  in  all  that  I  most  desire*  I 
hope  his  example  and  converse  will  prove  to  my  advantage.  We 
are  always  together  '<rhen  business  will  permit :  and  the  last  fort* 
night  has  been  the  most  pleasant  time  I  have  spent  during  my  ab-' 
sence  from  you.  To  be  from  you,  is,  indeed,  an  abatement  to 
every  pleasure.  But  I  hope  I  make  some  advance  in  submission 
to  the  will  of  God.  I  have  resigned  all  into  his  hands,  and  while 
separate  from  you,  that  is,  from  all  that  I  hold  dear  in  this  world, 
I  perceive  in  some  degree  His  presence,  whose  loving  kindness  is 
better  than  life  itself. 

A  vessel  arrived  to-day  from  London,  which  brought  many  let- 
ters, but  none  for  me.  It  is  no  matter.  I  trust  in  the  Lord ;  and 
this  keeps  me  from  uneasiness.  I  was  more  afraid  than  hurt  for 
want  of  letters  here  last  voyage ;  and  I  hope  I  shall  not  be  weak 
tenougb  to  grieve  again  without  just  grounds. 


TSI1U>   VOYAGE   TO  ATBICA.  Ill 

At  SeCy  June  24. 

I  left  St.  Kitt's  the  20th  instant,  and  am  now  about  six  hund- 
red miles  on  my  way  homewards,  in  perfect  health  and  peace. 

I  had  a  sacramental  opportunity  while  there,  on  Whitsunday, 
and  was  glad  to  embrace  it.  The  service  was,  indeed,  poorly 
administered,  by  a  man  whose  only  distinguishing  mark  of  a 
minister,  I  believe,  was  his  gown  and  surplice.  But  I  aimed  to 
look  beyond  the  man,  to  the  Lord  ;  and  I  hope  I  received  a  bless^ 
ing.  You  may  be  sure  I  thought  of  you  upon  the  occasion.  I 
hoped  that  you  were  engaged  that  day  in  the  same  manner ;  and 
I  earnestly  prayed,  as  I  do  daily,  that  every  appointed  mean  of 
grace  may  be  made  efiectual  to  your  present  comfort  and  final 
salvation.  This  is  the  one  thing  needful ;  which  I  ask  with  soli- 
citude. I  am  more  cool  as  to  our  temporal  concerns,  because  I 
know  we  are  npt  competent  to  choose  for  ourselves  ;  and,  there- 
fore, I  am  content  with  begging  a  blessing  upon  them  in  general 
terms ;  soTar  as  they  may  most  conduce  to  the  promoting  his 
glory  and  our  eternal  welfare ;  resigning  tbe  particulars  to  the 
wise  and  merciful  disposal  of  God.  And  I  cao  say,  to  his  praise, 
that  things  never  succeeded  more  to  my  mind  than  since  I  have 
been  taught  to  aim  at  this  method.  May  we  be  interested  in  the 
covenant,  which  is  well  ordered  in  all  points,  and  sure ;  and  then^ 
both  great  mercies,  and  small  mercies  (if  any  mercies  could  witB 
propriety,  be  deemed  small)  will  be  ours  of  course.  Then  we 
need  be  anxious  about  nothing ;  but,  as  occasions  arise,  make 
known  oar  requests  to  God ;  and,  if  what  we  ask  be  really  good 
for  us,  we  shall  certainly  have  it.  The  apostle's  argument  upon 
this  bead  is  unanswerable :  ^*  He  that  spared  not  his  own  Son,  but 
delivered  him  up  for  us  all,  how  shall  he  not,  with  him  also,  freely 

S've  PS  all  things  f  That  powerful  love  which  brought  down  the 
!ost  High  to  assume  our  nature,  to  suffer  and  to  die  for  us,  will 
not  permit  those  who  depend  on  him  to  want  what  i^  really  good 
for  them, 


Jit  Setf,  July  6. 
To-MORROW  win  be  a  fea&t-day  with  you,  if  as  I  hope,  you  are 
well.  My  thoughts  and  prayers  wiU  attend  you  at  the  Lord's  table. 
May  yoo  have  his  preseace  and  blessing  in  all  his  ordinances  ! 
It  is  my  allotment  to  be  seldom  favoured  with  tbe  benefits  of 
Christian  communion,  and  public  ordinances  ;  but,  I  thank  the 
Lord,  I  know  that  He,  who  is  rich  in  mercy  is,  in  every  place, 
^aally  nigh  to  all  who  cajl  upo«i  him*    Ifeitber  in  the  ^kls  of 


112  LETTERS    TO   A  WIFE. 

Guinea,  nor  in  the  pathless  ocean,  am  I  wholly  without  his  gra- 
cious presence.  Yet,  were  it  lawful  for  me  to  choose,  1  would 
rather  be  a  door  keeper  in  the  houi^e  of  God,  than  to  dwell  in 
splendour  at  a  distance  from  it.  However,  it  is  a  great  satisfac* 
tion  to  me,  that  you,  who  are  dear  to  me  as  my  own  heart,  have 
always  in  your  power  the  privileges  which  arc  but  now  and  then 
permitted  to  me. 

Two  very  different  errors  are  frequent  concerning  the  Lord'6 
supper.  The  first  is,  of  those  who  keep  away  because,  as  they 
say,  they  are  umvorthy:  If  they  mean,  that  they  are  determined 
to  persist  in  those  courses  wh'.ch  are  directly  contrary  to  the  de-* 
sign  of  pur  Redeemer's  life  and  death,  they  certainly  have  no  bu« 
siiiess  at  his  table  :  but,  alas !  what  will  they  do  if  death  should 
summon  them,  in  this  hardened  disposition,  to  his  tribunal  ?  But 
with  respect  to  those  who  mourn  for  their  sins,  and  strive,  and 
pray  against  them,  it  is  an  artifice  of  the  tempter  to  deter  them 
from  the  Lord's  table,  because  they  are  sinners  ;  when  it  is  a  sure 
and  glorious  truth,  that  sinners  are  the  very  persons  invited.  The 
whole  need  not  a  physician,  but  the  sick.  All  the  ordinances, 
and  particularly  this,  are  designed  to  strengthen  the  weak,  to 
confirm  the  doubtful,  and  to  raise  them  that^are  fallen*.  •  Unbe- 
lief and  a  legal  temper  dishonour  the  Gospel,  and  disquiet  die 
soul ;  and,  indeed  the  objection  is  founded  in  pride ;  for  they 
own,  that  if  they  were  better,  as  it  is  called,  they  would  readily 
attend.  But  it  hi  best  for  us  to  renounce  all  seeming  good  in  onr* 
isclves,  and  as  helpless,  worthless  sinners,  to  rely  wholly  on  the 
mercy  of  God,  in  Jesus  Christ. 

There  is  an  opposite  error.  Many  rush  upon  this  sacrament 
us  though  it  were  a  mere  ceremony,  or  civil  institution  to  qualify 
for  an  office  ;  or  a  sponge  to  wipe  off  their  past  offences,  that  they 
may  begin  a  new  score.  They  have  no  sense  of  the  evil  of  sio» 
and  therefore,  cannot  know  their  need  of  a  Saviour.  But  they 
presume  that  God  is  merciful,  and  are  quieted.  He  is,  indeed, 
merciful  beyond  our  conception,  and  be  has  shown  himself  so  in 
the  method  of  reconciliatiott ;  but  he  has  declared  the  way  in 
which  he  will  show  mercy,  and  there  is  too  other.  For  a  person 
to  partake  of  that  bread,  and  of  that  cap,  which  exhibit  to  us  the 
sorrows  and  sufferings  of  the  son  of  God  for  our  sins,  and  yet  wil- 
fully to  continue  in  the  practice  of  those  sins,  which  it  cost  him  all 
his  agonies  in  the  gardien,  acci  upon  the  cross,  to  expiate,  is,  as 
much  as  in  him  lies,  to  crucify  the  Son  of  God  afresh,  and  to  put 
him  to  open  shame. 


THIBO  V0TA6£  TO  AFBICA.  113 


At  Sea,  July  13. 

Of  all  the  authors  [  have  read,  who  have  occasionally^  treated 
«f  a  married  ilk,  and  of  the  inadvertencies,  on  both  sides,  by 
which  it  is  too  often  rendered  unhappy,  I  do  not  remember  one 
%vho  has  touched  upon  the  greatest  evil  of  all,  I  mean  our  wretch- 
ed propensity  to  lay  the  foundation  of  our  proposed  happiness  in- 
dependent of  God.  If  we  are  happy  in  a  mutual  alOection  when  ' 
we  set  out,  we  are  too  apt  to  think  that  nothing  more  is  wanting; 
and  to  suppose  our  own  prudence  and  good  judgment  sufficient  to 
carry  us  on  to  the  end.  But  that  it  is  not  so,  in  fact,  we  have 
daily  proof,  from  the  example  of  numbers,  who,  notwithstanding 
a  sincere  regard  to  each  other  at  first,  and  the  advantages  of  good 
sense,  and  good  temper,  in  general,  yet,  by  some  hidden  causes, 
gradually  become  cool  and  indiilerent,  and  at  length  burdensome, 
perhaps  hateful  to  each  other.  This  event  is  often  noticed,  and 
excites  surprise,  because  few  can  properly  account  for  it.  But  I 
see  few  marriages  commenced  which  give  me  hope  of  a  more  fa*-- 
vourabie  issue. 

It  is  an  undoubted  truth,  that  the  Most  High  God,  who  is  ever 
present  with  and  over  his  creatures,  is  the  author  aud  giver  of  all 
that  is  agreeable  or  comfortable  to  us  in  this  world.  We  cannot 
be  either  easy  in  ourselves,  or  acceptable  to  others,  but  by  his 
favour ;  and,  therefore,  when  we  presume  to  use  his  creature-com- 
forts  witliout  consulting  and  acknowledging  him  in  them,  his  hon- 
our is  concerned  to  disappoint  us.  Dreaming  of  sure  satisfaction 
in  the  prosecution  or  enjoyment  of  our  own  desires,  we  do  but  im- 
itate the  builders  of  Babel,  who  said.  Go  to,  let  us  build  a  tower, 
to  get  ourselves  a  name.  So  we,  too  often,  when  circumstances 
smile  upon  us,  vainly  think  of  securing  happiness  upon  earth  :  a 
sensual  happiness,  and  on  an  earth  that  stands  accursed  and  sub- 
ject to  vanity  for  our  sins.  In  every  state  and  scene  of  life  there 
are  instances  of  this  folly  ;  but,  perhaps,  it  is  in  no  one  more  insin- 
uating and  plausible,  than  in  the  commencement  of  marriage  be- 
tween those  whose  hearts  are  united.  But,  alas!  God  looks 
down  upon  such  short-sighted  projectors  as  he  did  upon  those  of 
old.  He  pours  contempt  upon  their  designs  ;  he  divides  their 
language  ;  he  permits  separate  views  and  interests  to  rise  in  their 
minds  ;  their  fair  scheme  of  happiness  degenerates  into  confusion  ; 
and  they  arc  left  under  the  reproach  of  having  begun  to  build 
what  they  will  never  be  able  to  finish.  This  is  the  true  cause  of 
half  the  unhappiness  complained  of  and  observed  among  those 
who  come  together  by  their  own  consent.  Not  for  want  of  good- 
will at  first,  nor  for  want  of  any  necessary  qualification  in  them- 
selves ;  but  because,  neglecting  to  own  and  to  seek  God  in  their 

Vol.  IV.  16 


114  LCITTCRS   TO   A  IVIFX. 

coneerns,  he  has  refused  them  that  blessing  without  whieb  no  no* 
ion  can  subsist. 

You  will  not  ask  me  how  we  set  out,  and  in  what  manner  our 
happy  connexion  has  been  conducted.  But  perhaps  you  will  see 
much  reason  to  ask  (I  am  sure  I  do)  why  we  have  succeeded  sm 
much  better  than  ethers  f  and  why  we,  unlike  the  most  of  our 
acquaintance,  have  preserved  our  regard  unabated,  and  all  our 
obligations  fresh  upon  our  mind,  into  the  middle  of  our  fifth  year  ? 
I  cannot  pretend  that  it  is  owing  to  my  being  duly  dependent,  and 
humble,  in  ascribing  all  my  blessings  to  the  Lord  ;  or  to  my 
having  enjoyed  them  with  an  eye  to  his  glory.  Alas  !  1  have 
given  way  to  the  evils  which  I  knew  I  ought  to  avoid,  and  have 
neglected  the  good  to  which  my  conscience  called  me.  But  it  is 
beeause  the  Lord,  in  all  his  dealings  with  me,  has  been  wonderful- 
ly, singularly  merciful  and  favourable.  By  his  grace  he  brought 
me  from  a  state  of  apostasy,  to  the  knowledge  of  his  Gospel  ;' 
and  by  his  good  providence,  he  has  no  less  distinguished  me  in 
temporals.  He  brought  me,  as  I  may  say,  out  of  the  land 
of  Egypt,  out  of  the  house  of  bondage ;  from  slavery  and  famine 
on  the  coast  of  Africa,  into  my  present  easy  situation.  And  he 
brought  me  from  the  most  abandoned  scenes  of  profligacy,  when 
I  was  sunk  into  a  complacency  with  the  vilest  wretches,  to  make 
me  happy  in  the  possession  of  your  heart  and  person.  And  thus 
be  has  continued  to  me,  in  your  love  and  its  endearing  consequen- 
ces, all  that  I  hold  valuable  in  life  for  so  many  years  ;  though  I 
have  not  endeavoured,  in  the  mander  I  ought,  to  deserve  you  for 
one  whole  day.  Often  the  consciousness  of  my  disingenuous  be* 
haviour  has  made  my  heart  tremble  i^pon  your  account.  I  have 
feared  lest  you  should  be  snatched  ^way,  for  ray  punishment. 
But  the  Lord  is  God,  and  not  man.  As  in  a  thousand  instances, 
So  particularly  in  this,  I  may  well  say,  He  has  not  dealt  with  me 
according  to  my  sins,  nor  retvarded  |ne  after  my  iniquities.  He 
has  neither  separated  us  by  death,  nor  involved  us  in  heavy  afflic- 
tions, nor  suffered  our  affections  to  fail.  -  Let  us  praise  him  for 
these  three  articles,  for  there  is  scarcely  one  couple  in  a  thousand 
that  is  fa\*oured  with  them  all  for  any  equal  space  of  time. 

Mr.  Addison  has  treated,  with  propriety,  on  the  want  of  com- 
plaisance, the  improper  freedoms,  and  several  other  failings, 
which,  though  seemingly,  of  no  great  immediate  importance  them*- 
selves,  may  in  time,  give  rise  to  serious  and  abiding  disgusts. 
The  faults  which  he  mentions  are  to  be  guarded  against ;  but  to 
attend  to  these  only  will  not  be  sufficient.  Philosophy  and  rea- 
soning have  their  use  ;  but  religion  alone  can  teach  us  how  to  use 
the  good  things  of  this  world  without  abusing  them  ;  and  to  make 
our  earthly  comforts  blessings  indeed,  by  improving  them  to  a 


TBIMD  VOTACtt   TO   A9RICA.  Hi 

timber  view  ;  by  tracing  them,  as  streams,  to  their  fountain  $ 
by  extending  our  views,  from  time  to'  eternity ;  and  making  our 
mutual  affection  a  mean  of  raising  our  desires  to  the  great  Lord 
of  all.  But  herein,  alas  !  I  have  greatly  failed  hithefto.  And 
perhaps  this  is  the  reason  why  I  am  so  long  and  so  oflen  separa- 
ted from  you.  I  now  see  that  1  may  number  it  among  my  great 
mercies,  that  I  was  not  permitted  to  remain  always  at  home  with 
you.  Perhaps,  by  this  time,  I  might  have  been  hardened  into  an 
entire  neglect  of  my  dut}'  to  God,  and  my  most  essential  duty  to 
you  ;  but  by  being  forced  to  leave  you,  again  and  again,  I  have 
had  opportunity  and  leisure  for  reflection,  and,  I  would  hope,  at 
length,  for  repentance.  You  have  been  much  mistaken  in  your 
opinion  of  me.  Your  kind  partiality  has  thought  me  very  good^ 
when,  indeed,  I  have  been  very  bad  ;  very  insensible  and  ungrate- 
ful, not  only  to  God  but  even  to  you.  I  have  not  properly  an- 
swered the  trust  you  have  reposed  in  me  ;  but  I  hope  I  shall  be 
enabled  to  amend. 

You  say  you  sometimes  show  my  letters.  Though  roost  of 
them  are  in  an  unfashionable  strain,  I  am  not  very  solicitous  who 
may  see  them.  I  write  from  my  heart ;  from  a  heart  that  is  not 
ashamed  (excepting  as  I  have  acknowledged  above),  in  any  thing 
relating  to  you ;  a  heart  that  hardly  beats,  but  in  concert  to  some 
earnest  wish  for  your  welfare ;  a  heart  that  always  feels  the  small-* 
est  instance  of  your  kindness ;  a  heart  that  would  give  up  every 
pleasure  this  world  can  afford,  rather  than  lose  the  joy  it  feels  in 
being  yours,  and  that  you  own  an  interest  in  it ;  a  heart  that 
would  welcome  any  temporal  troubles  that  might  be  a  mean  of 
final  good  to  you.  Thus  far  I  can  go*  There  was  a  time  when  I 
could  have  gone  further.  Do  not  think  my  love  impaired  because 
I  now  desire  to  stop  here.  There  was  a  time  (what  a  mercy  that 
the  Lord  did  not  tear  qiy  idol  from  me  !)  when  you  had  that  place 
in  my  heart  which  is  only  doe  to  Him,  and  I  regarded  you  as  my 
chief  good.  But  I  hope  that  time  is  past :  and  never  did  I  wish  so 
earnestly  for  the  first  proofs  of  your  affection,  as  I  do  now  that  yott 
may  be  enabled  to  restrain  tt  within  due  bounds ;  and  that  your 
regard  may  not  prevent  you  from  considering  me  as  a  frail,  poor, 
mutable  creature,  unable  of  myself  to  procure  you  any  real  good, 
or  to  shield  you  from  the  smallest  evil.  Oh,  may  we  adore  Him, 
who  provideth  us  for  each  other ;  who  brought  us  together,  and 
has  spared  us  so  long  !  May  we  love  each  other  till  death,  yea,  I 
hope,  in  a  future  state,  beyond  death  !  And,  in  order  to  this,  may 
we,  in  the  first  place,  love  him  with  all  our  heart,  and  soul,  and 
^rength,  who  first  loved  us,  and  gave  himself  for  us,  to  renew 
our  forfeited  title  to  the  good  things  of  both  worlds,  and  to  wash 
us  from  our  8in»  in  bis  own  blood.    This  was  love  indeeiL! 


114}  LETTERS    TO   A  WIFE. 

Where  were  the  sensibility  ^nd  ingenuousness  of  spirit  which  we 
sometimes  think  we  possess,' that  this  unspeakable  lover  of  souls 
has  been  no  more  noticed,  no  more  admired  and  beloved,  by  us 
hitherto  f^Lord,  make  us  partakers  of  thy  divine  nature,  for  thou 
art  love  ! 


At  Sea,  July  27. 

You  will  observe,  I  have  of  late  made  an  alteration  in  my  post- 
days.  Instead  of  a  few  lines  two  or  three  times  a  week,  I  now 
write  a  whole  sheet  every  Saturday ;  and  in  the  choice  of  a  subject, 
I  have  an  eye  to  the  service  of  the  following  day.  Thus  I  indulge 
my  inclination  in  writing  to  you,  without  breakiug  the  rule  I  have 
for  some  time  past,  prescribed  to  myself;  the  forenoon  of  Satur- 
day I  allow  for  relaxation  ;  but  when  I  have  dined,  if  no  necessa- 
ry business  prevents  me,  I  endeavour  to  abstract  my  tnind  from 
worldly  concerns,  and  to  prepare  for  the  approaching  Sabbath. 

I  now  mean  to  giye  you  some  account  how  I  pass  a  Sea-Sun- 
day, when  I  am  favoured  with  a  tolerable  frame  of  mind,  and  am 
enabled,  by  the  grace  of  God,  to  obtain  some  tolereble  mastery 
over  the  encumbrances  of  the  flesh  and  the  world,  which  in  my 
best  hours,  are  too  prevalent  with  me. 

My  evening  devotions  when  opportunity  permits,  commence 
about  six  o'clock,  the  week  and  the  month  round  ;  and  I  am, 
sometimes,  engaged  a  full  hour  or  more  in  prayer  and  praise,  with- 
out any  remarkable  weariness  or  repetition.  You  furnish  me  with 
much  subject  for  both.  On  a  Saturday  evening,  in  particular,  I  beg* 
a  blessing  upon  your  Sunday,  upon  your  public  worship  and  re- 
tirement. And  as  I  know  that  where  you  are,  you  are  unavoida- 
bly exposed  to  trifling  company,  to  whom  all  days  are  alike,  I 
pray  thieit  you  may  be  shielded  from  their  evil  influence.  I  have 
likewise  to  pray  for  others ;  for  our  friends  ;  for  many  of  them 
by  name,  and  according  to  the  knowledge  I  have  of  their  circum- 
stances; and  extend  my  petitions  to  the  general  state  of  the 
world,  that  they  who  are  strangers  to  the  Gospel,  in  which  I  have 
found  so  much  peace,  may  be  brought  to  the  knowledge  of  it ; 
and  that  they  who  neglect  and  despise  it,  as  I  once  did,  may,  like 
me,  obtain  mercy.  When  these,  and  other  points,  are  gone  over, 
and  my  praises  offered  for  our  temporal  and  spiritual  blessings, 
anrf  likewise  my  repeated  confessions  of  the  sins  of  my  childhood, 
youth,  and  advanced  years,  as  they  occur  to  my  remembrance, 
you  will  not  wonder  that  an  hour  is  elapsed.  The  remainder  of 
the  evening  I  pass  in  ruminating  on  the  mercies  of  the  preceding 


THtED  VChTAGP    TO  AFlMCA.  Ill 

week,  the  subjects  of  my  reading,  or  whatever  I  can  pick  useftil 
self-conference  from. 

I  usually  rise  at  four  on  a  Sunday  morning.  My  first  employ  is 
to  beg  a  blessing  upon  the  day  for  us  both  ;  for  all  who,  like  you^ 
are  preparing  to  wait  upon  God  in  public,  and  for  allAvho,  like 
myself,  are,  for  a  time,  excluded  from  that  privilege.  To  this  suc- 
ceeds a  serious  walk  upon  deck.  Then  I  read  two  or  three  select 
chapters.  At  breakfast,  I  eat  and  drink  more  than  I  talk  ;  for  I 
have  no  one  here  to  join  in  such  conversation  as  I  should  thea 
choose.  At  the  hour  of  your  going  to  church,  1  attend  you  in  my 
mind  with  another  prayer  ;  and  at  eleven  o'clock  the  ship's  bell 
rings  my  own  Utde  congregation  about  me.  To  them  I  read  the 
morning  service,  according  to  the  Liturgy.  Then  I  walk  the 
deck,  and  attend  my  observation,  as  we  call  it ;  that  is,  to  know 
by  the  sun,  (if  it  shines,)  at  noon,  the  latitude  the  ship  is  in.  Then 
comes  dinner.  In  the  afternoon  1  frequently  take  a  nap  for  half  an 
hour  ;  if  not,  I  read,  or  write  in  a  book  I  keep  for^that  purpose. 
I  wait  upon  you  again  to  church  in  the  afternoon,  and  convene  my^ 
ship's  company,  as  in  the  morning.  At  four  o'clock  I  drink  tea, 
which  recruits  my  spirits  for  the  evening.  Then  another  Scrip- 
ture lesson,  and  a  walk,  brings  six  o'clock,  which,  I  have  told  you, 
is  my  hour  for  stated  prayer.  I  remember  you  then  again,  in  the 
most  particular  manner  ;  and,  in  trust  that  you  are  still  preserved 
in  safety  for  me^  1  endeavour  to  praise  the  Lord  for  his  goodness 
so  long  vouchsafed  to  us. 

But,  alas  !  when  I  look  back  upon  a  day  spent  in  this  manner, 
I  cannot  express  how  much  I  have  to  mourn  over,  and  be  ashamed 
of,  at  night.  Oh  !-  the  wanderings  and  faintness  of  my  prayers  ; 
the  distraction  of  my  thoughts  ;  the  coldness  of  my  heart,  and  the 
secret  workings  of  pride,  which  debase  and  corrupt  my  best  ser- 
vices. In  short,  every  thought  is  wrong.  But  I  remember  that  I 
am  not  under  the  law,  but  under  grace.  I  rely  on  the  promised 
mediation  of  my  Saviour,  renounce  my  own  poor  performances  and 
implore  mercy,  in  his  name  and  for  his  sake  only,  and  that  sets  all 
to  rights.  1  need  no  one  to  pronunce  an  absolution  to  me  ;  1  can- 
tell  myself  that  my  sins  are  forgiven  me,  because  I  knovf  in  whom 
I  have  believed.  This  leads  me  to  praise  and  adore  Him,  that  I 
was  born  in  an  age  and  country  favoured  with  the  light  of  the  Gos- 
pel; when  there  are  millions  of  my  species  who  have  neither  the 
means  of  grace  nor  the  hope  of  glory  ;  and  further,  that  I  have 
been  callea  out  from  the  ^unhappy  apostasy,  and  licentiousness^- 
and  misery,  into  which  I  had  plunged  myself ;  when  many  thou- 
sands, who  never  offended  to  the  degree  i  have,  are  either  suffer- 
ed to  go  on,  from  bad  to  worse,  till  there  is  no  hope,  or  are  cut  off 
by  a  stroke,  and  sink  into  endless  misery  in  a  thoughtless  moment  I 
Lord,  not  unto  me,  but  unto  Thee  be  the  praise^     It  was  wholly 


119  IiBTTKBS  TO  A  WIFE* 

the  effect  of  tby  grace  ;  for  thou  wouldest  be  found  of  me  when  I 
bad  not  the  least  inclination  to  seek  thee  ! 

Though  I  have  given  you  this  account,  chiefly  of  my  passing  a 
Sunday,  it  will,  in  the  main,  serve  for  the  history  of  any  day  in 
any  week,  since  1  left  St.  Christopher's.  It  is  thus  I  am  enabled, 
ardently  as  I  love  you,  to  support  your  absence  without  impa- 
tience ;  though  a  re-union  to  you,  such  as  our"' two  fbrmery^ncludes 
all  I  can  wish  as  to  temporals.  And,  I  trust,  he  who  has  bcought 
me  safely  over  two  thirds  of  the  ocean  that  was  lately  betweeKus, 
will  do  the  rest  in  his  own  good  hour.  And,  in  the  mean  while, 
blessed  be  his  name,  my  time  does  not  hang  heavv  upon  my  hands. 
I  trust  you  choose  him  for  your  portion  also.  Thus  we  shall  bear 
separation  belter,  and  be  more  happy  wheh  together,  than  for- 
merly. And  when  we  are  called  finally  to  part,  (as,  sooner  oi^ 
later,  we  must,)  He  will  strengthen  us  according  to  the  day  of  our 
trouble,  and  will  assuredly  unite  us  again  to  unspeakable  advan- 
tage, and  pla<)^  us  beyond  the  reach  of  every  trial  and  every  evil. 


Jit  iSea,  August  3. 

Ip  our  reckonings  are  right,  I  am  now  within  a  day's  sail  of  Ire- 
land ;  and  I  niay  hope  (if  me  fair  wind  continues)  to  see  Liverpool 
within  a  week.  My  passage  thus  far,  like  all  the  passages  I  have 
made  since  you  have  owned  an  interest  in  me,  has  been  remark- 
ably exempted  from  disagreeable  events  and  apparent  dangers. 
As  I  hope  I  shall  not  have  occasion  to  send  you  another  weekly 
sheet  before!  see  you,  I  would  employ  this  on  a  closing  invita- 
tion, to  join  with  me  in  praising  the  great  Author  of  all  good  for  his 
numerous  and  repeated  mercies  and  blessings  vouchsafed  to  us 
both  ;  and  the  rather  at  present,  as  this  day  will  conclude  another 
year  of  my  life.  How  much  reason  have  I  to  say,  with  David, 
"  O  Lord,  thou  crownest  the  year  with  thy  goodness." 

We  are  never  in  a  better  disposition  to  ask,  and  obtain,  further 
favours  from  the  Lord,  than  when  our  hearts  are  impressed  with  a 
grateful  sense  of  those-we  have  already  received.  We  have,  in- 
deed, reason  to  praise  him  above  many  ;  for  his  dispensations  to 
us  have  been  singularly  favourable.  His  goodness  has  been 
manifested  from  the  first  moments  of  our  life  ;  yea,  still  moi-e 
early,  from  the  circumstances  of  our  birth.  It  was  by  the  ordina- 
tion of  his  kind  providence,  that  we  were  bom  in  an  age  and  land 
of  light  and  liberty,  and  not  among  the  millions  who  have  no 
knowledge  of  the  means  of  grace,  or  of  the  hope  of  glory  ;  nor 
among  the  multitudes  who  are  trained  up,  from  their  cradles,  to 
substitute  superstition  for  religion.     But  I  shall  defer  speaking  of 


THIILD  VOTAOlB   TO   AFRICA.  119 

fiptritual  metcies  till  1  have  said  sofflething  of  our  temporal  bles- 
sings. 

rerhaps  we  have  sometimes  been  tempted  to  think  that,  be- 
cause we  do  not  possess  titles  and  estates,  and  are  not  of  high  dis- 
tinction and  estimation  in  the  world,  we  have  received  nothing 
extraordinary  ;  but  two  reflections  will,  1  hope,  suffice  to  correct 
this  mistake. 

Let  us,  in  the  first  place,  think  of  the  miseries  we  know  or  ob- 
serve in  the  world.  How  many  are  crippled  or  maimed  in  their 
bodies,  or  disordered  in  their  minds  ?  How  many,  at  this  minute^ 
are  nearly  perishing  through  extreme  want  of  the  common  neces- 
saries of  life  ?  How  many  are  chained  to  their  beds  by  sickness 
and  excruciating  pains,  and  can  find  no  ease  by  day  or  by  night  ? 
not  to  insist  on  the  more  deplorable  case  of  those  who  are  sufier- 
ing  the  agonies  of  a  wounded  spirit,  or  a  terrified  conscience^ 
Let  us  reflect  on  the  miseries  ana  outrages  whiph  the  scourge  of 
war  brings  upon  cities,  provinces,  and  whole  nations.  Or,  if  those 
scenes  are  two  shocking  to  dwell  upon,  it  will  suffice  to  take  the 
estimate  much  lower.  Let  us  look  round  us  at  home,  amongst  our 
own  acquaintance,  or,  at  furthest,  within  the  bounds  of  the  news- 
papers. How  many  fatherless — how  many  widows,  do  we  hear 
of  ?  How  many,  from  happy  prospects,  rendered  suddenly  misera- 
ble by  what  we  call  casualties  ?  Take  these  things  together,  and 
let  us  ask  our  consciences  if  a  conUnued  exemption  from  such  a 
variety  of  evils,  and  a  constant  supply  of  the  many  wants  we  have 
in  common  with  others,  are  not  favours  which  we  enjoy,  and 
which  are  afforded,  comparatively  to  few  ? 

But  fiirther  ;  let  us,  in  the  second  place,  turn  our  eyes  to  those 
who  are  placed  in  ihe  smoother  ^valks  of  life,  whom  customary 
speech  calls  the  happy.  Run  over  what  you  knoW  of  those  who 
are  most  noticed  for  personal  qualifications,  for  their  riches,  hon- 
ours, or  the  variety  of  their  means  and  modes  of  pleasure  :  and 
then  let  us  ask  ourselves,  if  there.is  any  one  amongst  all  these  with 
whom  we  would  be  content  to  change  in  all  points  ?  If  we  should 
not  accept  such  a  proposal,  as  surely  we  should  not,  (I  answer  for 
you,  no  less  confidently  than  for  myself  J  it^follows,  evidently,  that 
we  have  more  to  be  thankful  for  (our  cnvn  partial  selves  being 
judges)  than  many  of  those  whom,  perhaps,  we  have  been  disposed 
to  envy  5  and  if  so,  it  is  equally  plain  that  there  are  no  two  per- 
sons upon  the  face  of  the  earth  more  indebted  to  an  indulgent 
Praviclence  than  ourselves. 

If  I  mention  particulars^  I  must  begin  with  what  I  have  most  at 
heart,  our  mutual,  happy  afiection.  In  this,  at  least,  we  are  rich  ; 
and  this  is  a  kind  of  wealth,  with  which  gold  and  silver  will  bear 
no  comparison  ;  nor  would  many  cart-loads  of  them  purchase  a 
single  grain  of  so  great  a  blessing.    But  let  us  not  ascribe  this  to 


120  LETTERS    TO   A   WIFE. 

ourselves.  How  manifest,  how  powerful  and  marvellous,  was  the 
hand  of  God  in  bringing  us  together?  For  myself,  I  have  reason 
to  say,  (as  you  well  know,)  that  never  was  attempt  of  the  kind 
successful  under  greater  improbabilities  ;  and  yet,  so  peculiar  was 
our  turn,  that  had  we  missed  each  other,  perhaps  there  was  not 
one  of  each  sex  in  the  kingdom  that  could  have  made  us  so  en- 
tirely happy.  Then,  after  marriage,  it  was  not  impossible  for  us, 
more  than  others,  to  decline  into  that  satiety  and  indifference  so 
much  complained  of,  and  so  often  observed.  If  we  had  sunk  no 
lower  than  into  a  cold  esteem,  a  sort  of  mechanical  good-will,  the 
world  might  have  judged  charitably  that  we  were  well  matched  ; 
but  we  could  not  have  been  able  to  write,  to  speak,  to  look,  and 
to  feel,  as  we  do  now.  But  further,  when  all  that  we  do  possess 
was  granted,  we  might  still  have  been  unhappy  without  the  espe^ 
cial  protection  of  God.  We  were  liable  to  sickness,  death,  and  a 
variety  of  distresses,  which,  if  they  had  not  impaired  our  love, 
would  have  made  it  productive  of  more  pain  than  pleasure.  But, 
in  this  respect,  we  have  been  no  less  distinguished  than  in  the  rest. 
I  can  give  you  no  idea  of  the  many  evils  and  dangers  which  sur- 
rounded me  in  my  last  two  voyages  ;  nor  can  I  recount  how  many 
fell  beside  me,  and  at  my  right  hand,  who  had  equal  prospects, 
better  constitutions,  and  perhaps  superior  skill.  But  this  was  not 
all,  nor  even  half ;  for  1  found,  upon  my  return,  that  my  dearest 
M***  was  preserved  to  me,  ana  had  always  the  satisfaction  to 
meet  you  in  the  most  agreeable  manner  I  could  wish.  And  I  have 
been  conducted  towards  you  thus  far  in  safety  the  third  time,  and 
.  my  hopes  still  flourish. 

To  the  prime  article,  what  we  are  to  each  other,  many  may  be 
added,  which,  though  subordinate,  are  very  valuable.  The  union 
and  harmony  of  every  branch  of  our  family  ;  an  easy,  sufficient 
way  of  life,  cfeditable  and  decent,  if  not  splendid.  But  want  of 
room  prevents  me  from  enlarging  on  theSe  items,  and  from  the 
mention  of  several  more  ;  for  fam  not  willing  to  fill  the  sheet  with 
what  relates  merely  to  this  transitory  state.  The  blessings  1  have 
recounted  are,  in  themselves,  great ;  but  when  compared  with  the 
views  and  hopes  revealed  to  us  by  the  Gospel,  they  sink  at  once 
in  their  importance,  and  become,  any  further  than  subservient  to 
our  spiritual  interest,  less  than  nothing,  and  vanity.  All  advan- 
tages of  this  kind  might  have  been  permitted  us  for  the  term  of  a 
frail  life,  and  yet  we  might  have  lived  and  died  strangers  to  God, 
and  to  true  peace  ;  nay,  we  certainly  should,  had  we  been  left  to 
ourselves. 

Let  us,  therefore,  praise  the  mercy  and  goodness  of  God,  for 
convening  to  us  all  his  gifts  in  the  channel  of  redeeming  love ; 
and  for  leading  us  to  build  our  hopes  upon  the  mediation  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who,  by  being  made  a  curse  for  us,  an^  dying 


THIRD   VOTAGB   TO   AFRICA.    *  ISl 

upon  the  cross,  has  taken  out  that  curse  and  evil  which  the  tians* 
gression  of  our  first  parents  had  entailed  upon  the  whole  lowef 
creation.  Let  us  praise  the  Lord,  that,  though  he  has  blessed  us 
with  so  much  of  our  heart's  desire,  he  has  enabled  us  to  hope  that 
he  has  oot  appointed  us  all  our  portion  of  good  in  this  life.  Let 
us  rejoice,  not  merely  in  our  comforts  upon  earth,  but  rather  in  the 
trust  we  have  that  our  names  are  written  in  heaven.  Let  us  re- 
ceive our  Lord's  gifts  with  thankfulness,  and  improve  them  to  his 
service  ;  and  may  they  be  doubly  welcome  to  us,  as  tokens  of  his 
love,  and  earnests  of  his  further  gracious  designs  in  our  favour. 
And,  oh  !  may  the  consciousness  of  our  past  neglect,  and  our  un- 
suitable returns  for  all  his  benefits,  inspire  us  with  redoubled  dili- 
gence and  care  for  the  future,  and  engage  us  in  a  humble  and  daily 
application  to  our  great  Surety,  who  has  undertaken  to  pay  all  our 
debts.  And  may  you,  ray  dearest  M***,  appear  to-morrow  at 
his  tabl6  with^  these  views,  acknowledging  that  our  talents  have 
been  all  of  his  bounty,  and  the  abuse  of  them,  yours  and  mine, 
and  all  that  we  can  properly  call  our  own.  May  your  confes- 
sions end  in  peace,  and  your  sorrow  terminate  in  joy,  in  receivine 
the  pledges  of  his  dying  love.  You  will  remember  me,  and  1  shaU 
endeavour  to  be  with  you  in  spirit ;  and  I  trust,  on  the  next  sacra* 
tnent  day,  1  shall  accompany  you  in  person;  and  befoi-e  that  time, 
I  hope  we  shall  be  permitted,  with  one  heart  and  one  voice,  to 
praise  the  Lord,  our  light,  and  strength,  and  salvation,  who  holds 
our  souls  in  peace,  and  sufiers  not  our  feet  to  be  moved.  O 
Lord,  thou  hast  dealt  wonderfully  with  us  ;  therefore  will  we  ei- 
^t  thy  glorious  name  ! 

I  am  unalterably  yours. 


tAverpoolj  August  11. 

Mv  last  just  informed  you  of  my  arrival  here  in  health  and 
peace.  I  can  tell  you  little  more  at  present.  I  lived  almost  with* 
out  bleep  nearly  a  week  before  we  came  in,  and  my  head  and 
thoughts  are  not  yet  quite  settled. 

It  is  not  at  present  determined,  whether  you  or  I  must  remove 
from  where  we  are  ;  if  you  receive  this  without  a  postscript,  you 
may  expect  me.  I  shall  be  clear  of  my  ship  African  in  two  days, 
I  have  quitted  her  because  she  is  such  a  heavy  sailer.  But  there 
is  another  that  was  born  (launched)  the  same  day  with  her,  which 
I  may  have  if  1  please,  and  probably  I  shall  not  refuse  her,  though 
I  know  not  what  to  do  with  her  at  present.  My  judgment  tells 
me  that  it  would  be  better  to  sail  six  months  hence,  and  1  have 
almost  induced  Mr.  M****  to  think  as  1  do.  And  yet  1  fear  he 
suspects  that  I  start  objections,  that  I  may  have  the  more  time  to 

Vol.  IV.  16 


132  LETTERS   TO   A   WIFE. 

pass  with  yoo.  I  wish  he  could  know  the  peculiar  torn  of  my 
love,  and  he  would  fully  acquit  me  of  such  a  charge.  It  is  true, 
indeed,  were  I  master  of  a  small  independency,  though  but  a 
small  one,  I  should  glory  in  avowing,  that  nothing  which  the  mer- 
cenary world  calls  advantage — not  a  large  heap  of  yellow  coun- 
ters— should  bribe  me  to  the  necessity  of  being  so  long  and  so  far 
from  my  dearest  M***.  For  when  I  consider  myself  only,  I 
linow  and  feel  that  the  price  of  a  kingdom  would  poorly  pay  me 
for  your  absence.  But  when  I  think  of  you  as  unprovided  for, 
and  liable  to  I  know  not  what,  if  any  thing  should  befall  me ;  and 
still  more,  that  your  desire  of  making  me  happy  was  the  occa- 
sion of  your  being  in  this  precarious  state  ;  I  almost  grudge  every 
hour  in  which  I  am  not  some  way  engaged  for  your  interest.  I 
should  be  ashamed  to  be  long  at  home  when  your  concerns  re- 
quire me  abroad.  However,  I  am  to  submit  every  thing  to  the 
disposal  of  that  all-wise  Providence  on  which  I  am  permitted  to 
depend,  and  by  which  I  never  was,  nor  can  be  disappointed.  I 
have  many  reasons  for  desiring  a  little  time  with  you,  if  it  will 
•suit  my  business  ;  if  otherwise,  I  have  one  reason  against  it  that 
outweights  them  all — tlie  sense  of  what  1  owe  to  you.  I  consider- 
ed before  we  married,  what  must  be  the  consequence  on  my  side ; 
I  joyfully  accepted  the  terms  with  all  disadvantages ;  and  I 
thank  God,  I  never  yet  repented  or  thought,  for  a  moment,  that  I 
could  either  bear,  or  forbear,  too  much,  while  you  were  my  mo- 
tive and  reward. 

If  you  ask  how  I  pass  my  time  here  ?  I  answer,  that  if  an  as- 
semblage of  all  I  can  wish  for  satisfy  me,  without  your  company  I 
need  not  set  my  foot  out  of  Liverpool ;  yet  if  I  did  not  keep  a  strict 
watch  over  my  heart,  I  should  be  uneasy  and  impatient  amidst  all ; 
and  more  so  here  than  elsewhere,  for  every  thing  I  see  reminds 
me  that  you  were  with  me  last  year. 


Warrington^  August  18. 
I  AM  thus  far  on  my  return  from  Manchester,  and  thus  far  on 
my  way  from  Liverpool  to  London,  and  hope  to  be  with  you  on 
Friday.  You  must  prepare  for  another  journey,  for  I  promised 
to  return  within  a  month.  Mr.  M****,  in, his  usual  manner, 
talks  of  having  the  ship  at  sea  in  six  weeks;  but  I  believe  it  will 
be  near  twelve  before  all  is  ready.  I  have  procured  for  ray  new 
ship,  the  name  of  the  Bee ;  both  for  shortness  an(^  significancy, 
I  could  comment  a  good  while  upon  the  word  Bee,  and  talk 
about  the  sting  and  the  honey ;  but  I  forbear,  as  we  hope  so  soon 
to  meet. 


THIRD  T0TA6E  Tp  AFRICA.  123 

I  make  tbis  a  day  or  rest ;  for  I  think  it  not  right  to  travel  on  a 
Sunday,  without  a  more  argent  necessity  than  I  can  plead  at 
present.  But  it  has  been  a  cold,  unfruitful  day.  It  must  be  so 
at  times,  while  I  am  encumbered  with  the  world  and  the  flesh. 
But  I  am  something  enlivened  by  the  receipt  of  yours  of  the 
fourteenth.  Like  Hezekiah,  I  spread  the  letter  before  the  Lord. 
But  my  circumstances  are  very  different  from  his :  instead  of 
complaining  of  enemies,  my  joyful  errand  to  his  mercy  seat  is  to 
praise  him  for  his  goodness  ;  for  the  confirmation  of  yo^r  health 
and  peace,  and  for  the  happy  prospect  of  being  soon  with  you. 

The  last  week  I  was  at  sea,  was  no  less  stormy  with  us  than  with 
yon ;  and,  besides,  the  many  invisible  and  unheeded  evils  from  which 
we  were  preserved,  we  were  twice  in  imminent,  apparent  danger ; 
and  never  more  so  than  for  two  or  three  hours  before  we  arrived 
at  Liverpool.  Let  these  instances  confirm  you  in  the  persuasion 
that  storms  and  calms  are  equally  safe  to  those  who  trust  in  the 
God  of  the  sea  and  the  dry  land.  He  sometimes  gives  me  a  view 
of  impending  harm,  to  teach  me  that  I  am  insufficient  to  my  own 
safety.  But  when  deliverance  is  seasonable  and  necessary,  I  find 
it  always  at  hand.  Had  the  wind  and  weather,  during  the  whole 
passage,  been  at  my  own  choice,  I  could  not  have  gained  my 
port  in  a  more  satisfactory  manner,  or  in  a  better  hour  than  I  did. 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  returning  thanks  in  all  the  churches  for  an 
Afirican  voyage  performed  without  any  disaster,  or  the  loss  of  a 
single  man,  (for  Captain  L****  was  fixed  in  another  vessel  some 
time  before  his  death.)  This  was  much  noticed,  and  spoken  of, 
in  the  town  ;  and  I  believe  it  is  the  first  instance  of  the  kind. 

No  part  of  your  letter  pleases  me  so  much  as  that  where  you 
lell  me  yon  can  sincerely  say.  The  mil  of  the  Lord  be  done.  To 
find  as  both  proficients,  in  this  temper,  would  rejoice  me  more 
than  the  expectation  of  passing  many  winters  at  home ;  and  yet 
I  think  I  should  not  undervalue  a  single  hour  of  your  company. 
But  I  consider  that  in  a  few  winters  and  summers  more,  all  our 
endeared  hours  will  be  as  though  they  had  never  been ;  but  the 
efiects  and  consequences  of  our  temporary  connexion  will  abide 
for  ever. 

N.  B.     When  I  returned  to  Liverpool,   and  was  upon  the 

E>int  of  sailing  in  the  Bee,  it  pleased  God  to  stop  me  by  illness. 
y  the  advice  of  the  physicians,  I  resigned  the  command  of  the 
ship ;  and  was  thus  unexpectedly  freed  from  the  disagreeable,  and 
(as  I  now  see  it)  abominable  employment  and  traffic  in  which  I 
md  been  engaged.  So  that  my  marine  correspondence  ends 
hjre. 


134  LETTERS   TO   ▲   WIFE. 

My  first  attack  was  a. violent  fit,  which  threatened  immediate 
death,  and  left  me  no  signs  of  life  but  breathing  for  about  an  hoar. 
I  soon  grew  better ;  but  the  sudden  stroke  made  such  an  im- 
pression upon  my  dear  wife,  that  it  cost  her  more  than  a 
twelvemonth^s  severe  illness.  My  friend,  Mr.  M****,  procured 
ne  a  place  in  the  Custom-house ;  and  when  I  was  constrained  to 
return  to  take  possession  of  my  ofiice,  she  had  been  but  a  few 
days  a  little  revived  from  a  state  in  which  the  pYiysicians  had 
given  up  all  hope  of  her  recoverey.  The  .  second  series  of  my 
letters  were  written  while  I  was  tide-sarveyor  of  the  port  of  Liv- 
erpool. 


yOtsgs 


WRITTEN  IN  ENGLAND^ 

FROM  1766  TO  1786. 


Thou  dost  but  take  the  dying  lamp  away, 
To  bless  me  with  thine  own  unclouded  day. 

Mrs.  Rowx» 


Behold  1  t^e  away  from  thee  the  desire  of  thine  eyee,  with  a  itroke ;  yet  oeitber 
•halt  thoa  moarn  nor  weep,  neither  iball  thy  lean  nio  down*— Ezek.  x3Ut.  16. 


LETTERS  TO  A  WIFE. 

1756. 
WHILE  RESIDENT  AT  LIVERPOOIa 

Mr  Deabest,  Towcesier,  August  12. 

Before  this  reaches  you,  your  brother  will  have  told  ydu 
how  easy  and  composed  he  left  me.  Indeed,  I  wonder  at  my- 
self. But  the  Lord  has  been  very  gracious  to  me,  and  fulfills  his 
promise  of  giving  me  strength  according  to  my  day.  My  mind 
is  not  distressed.  My  companions  in  the  coach  are  civil  and 
agreeable,  in  their  way  ;  but  I  had  rather  have  been  alone  ;  for 
to  commune  with  God  and  my  own  heart,  would  be  much  more 
pleasing  than  the  empty  amusing  chit-chat  I  am  engaged  in  at 
present. 

I  was  enabled,  this  morning,  to  commend  yon  to  the  Lord's 
blessing  with  much  comfort.  And  I  have  a  cheerful  hope  that 
He  will  raise  you  up  in  due  time  ;  and  that  we  shall  again  have  a 
happy  and  thankful  meeting.  Till  then,  let  us  attend  to  present 
duty,  and  keep  close  to  him  by  humble  prayer,  and  a  renewed 
dependence  upon  the  blood  of  Jesus.  Let  us,  while  the  rod  is 
upon  us,  inquire  into  the  meaning  of  it,  and  hear  his  voice  by  it  i 
let  us  bow  to  his  chastisement,  and  acknowledge  that  we  have  re- 
belled against  Him,  and  that  he  afflicts  us  far  less  than  our  ini- 
quities have  deserved.  Then  we  may  be  assured  that  though  He 
cause  grief,  He  will  have  compassion ;  and  will  not  only  deliver 
us,  but  give  us  to  see,  and  to  say,  that  it  was  good  for  us  to  have 
been  in  trouble.  I  esteem  it  a  mercy  that  you  found  some  miti- 
gation of  your  pain,  and  some  symptoms  of  amendment,  before  I 
left  you.  6ut  had  1  been  called  away  in  the  hour  of  your  great* 
est  extremity,  I  ought  to  have  relied  on  the  Lord's  goodness^  and 
to  have  been  resigned  to  his  will.  But,  alas !  how  weak  is  my 
faith  ! 

I  am  in  perfect  health,  and  not  uneasy  for  you.  To  be  sure  I 
think  of  you  continually,  but  my  trust  in  God  bears  roe  up.  I 
shall  endeavour  to  write  by  every  post,  but  if  one  should  pass  me 
upon  the  road,  I  hope  yen  will  not  be  anxious.  The  Lord  is  m^ 
guard  and  my  guide. 


138  ^  LBTTERS    TO  A  WIFK* 

LUekfiddj  Aaguit  13. 

Thus  far  I  am  brouebt  in  safety,  and  am  not  willing  to  trust  the 
post  any  further,  and  merefore  must  be  brief.  I  met  Mr.  T**** 
at  Daventry,  and  requested  him  to  send  you  word  how  cheerful 
he  found  me  ;  fearing  you  would  scarcely  oelieve  my  own  report, 
unless  I  had  some  one  to  vouch  forme.  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  a 
like  account  of  you,  but  I  know  who  has  the  care  of  you,  and 
what  good  ground  I  have  to  trust  him.  I  hope  my  first  news  will 
be,  that  your  recovery  is  advancing.  Many  prayers  to  this  effect 
I  have  offered,  and  am  every  hour  adding  to  the  number,  though 
not  with  the  solemnity  I  could  wish.  For  we  have  hitherto  found 
so  much  company  upon  the  road,  and  have  come  in  so  late,  that  I 
have  not  had  the  opportunity  of  a  single  retired  room.  This  is 
the  only  inconvenience  I  have  met  with.  But  I  know  I  do  not 
serve  a  hard  master.  I  pi'ay  to  Him  who  can  hear  the  breathings 
of  my  thoughts,  when  in  the  midst  of  company,  and  who  is  more 
ready  to  hear  than  1  am  to  ask. 

I  hope  you,  my  dearest,  will  continue  waiting  for  Him,  for  from 
Him  only  our  help  can  come.  Pray  for  a  praying  spirit ;  lay  all 
your  hopes  and  all  your  fears  before  Him.  In  this  way,  and  m  no 
other  peace  and  comfort  will  be  surely  found  :  I  recommend  you 
to  his  blessing,  and  remain^  beyond  expression, 

Yours. 


Liverpool  J  August  15. 

I  CANNOT  write  much  to-night,  but  I  must  tell  you,  in  a  few 
words,  all  is  well.  1  have  met  with  the  usual  kind  reception  from 
our  dear  friends — have  done  my  business  at  the  Custom-House, 
and  received  many  congratulations.  I  have  a  holiday  till  Mon- 
day, and  shall  then  enter  upon  my  office.  As  there  are  two  sur- 
veyors, and  I  shall  be  upon  the  river  only  every  other  week,  the 
place  is  likely  to  afford  me  liesure,  which,  in  its  turn,  will  be  as 
welcome  to  me  as  money.  Well :  since  the  Lord  has  given  me 
so  many  blessings,  shall  I  not  trust  him  throughout  ?  Yes,  I  thank 
him,  I  hope  1  am  warranted  to  say,  I  can,  and  do.  My  thoughts 
were  much  interrupted  while  in  the  coach  ^  but  I  had  a  pleasant 
ride  indeed  from  Warrington  hither,  and  was  led  to  wonder  at  my 
many  mercies,  and  to  resign  both  you  and  myself  into  the  hands 
of  God,  with  much  satisfaction. 

I  have  received  your  brother's  letter,  and  I  thank  him  for  his 
punctuality.  As  the  Lord  is  pleased  to  give  you  intervals  of  ease 
and  sleep,  so  I  know  he  can  remove  all  your  pains  by  a  word ; 
and  I  trust  he  will  in  the  best  season.  May  he,  at  present,  sanc- 
tify his  hand^  to  the  increasing  of  our  faith  and  patience.    Amen ! 


WaiLB   MSmCMT    AT  LIVERPOOL*  139 


laverpodl^  August  20. 

1  HAVE  received  your  sister's  obiigine  letter,  with  your  own 
dear  name,  in  your  own  dear  hand,  at  the  bottom.  A  welcome 
sight !  May  I  be  thankful ! 

I  entered  upon  business  yesterday.  I  find  my  duty  is  to  attend 
the  tides  one  week,  and  to  visit  the  ships  that  arrive,  and  such  as 
are  in  the  river  ;  and  the  other  week  to  inspect  the  vessels  in  the 
docks,  and  thus,  alternately,  the  year  round.  The  latter  is  little 
more  than  a  sinecure,  but  the  former  requires  pretty  constant  at- 
tendance, both  by  day  and  night.  I  have  a  good  office,  with  fire 
and  candle,  fifty  or  sixty  people  under  my  direction,  with  a  hand- 
some six-oared  boat  and  a  coxswain,  to,  row  me  about  in  form. 
Mr.  W****  went  with  me  on  my  first  cruise  down  to  the  Rock. 
We  saw  a  vessel,  and  wandered  upon  the  hills,  till  she  came  in. 
I  then  went  on  board,  and  performed  my  office  with  all  due  grav- 
ity. And  had  it  not  been  my  business,  the  whole  might  have  pas- 
sed for  a  party  of  pleasure. 

To-day  the  wind  blows  hard  ;  but  you  need  not  be  uneasy 
about  me  at  such  times.  For  though  my  department  will  lead  me 
to  be  much  upon  the  river,  it  is  at  my  option  to  embark  or  not,  as 
I  find  the  weather.  I  like  ray  station,  and  shall  soon  be  master 
of  it.  Remember  that  I  am  in  the  path  of  duty,  and  under  the 
protection  of  Him  whom  the  winds  and  seas  obey. 

I  perceive  that  you  have  thoughts  of  removing  to  Eltham.  I 
pray  the  Lord  to  direct  you  when  and  where  to  go  ;  and  that  his 
presence  may  be  with  you,  to  preserve  you  from  being  hurt  by 
unsuitable  company,  so  as  to  forget  the  vows  you  have  offered  in 
the  time  of  vour  trouble.  I  hope  our  late  trial  will  be  sanctified 
to  us,  and  tnat  while  we  live  we  may  have  cause  to  say,  that  God 
is  gracious  and  merciful  even  in  afflicting  us.  If  your  health 
shoutdf  be  fully  restored,  let  us  remember  it  is  but  a  reprieve.  We 
must  experience,  sooner  or  later,  another  and  a  final  visitation,  to 
put  an  end  to  all  our  views  which  are  bounded  with  the  term  of 
this  frail  life.  Happy  shall  we  be,  if,  when  that  hour  arrives,  we 
shall  be  found  ready,  and  enabled  by  faith  in  our  Redeemer,  to 
withstand  andK>vercome  the  shock  of  the  last  enemy,  death.  I 
hope  ahd  trust  we  are  yet  spared,  that  we  may  recover  our 
strength  before  we  go  hence,  and  are  no  more:  seen.  I  hope,  if. 
the  Lord  is  pleased  to  conduct  you  safely  to  me,  and  to  cive  us  a 
bouse  of  our  own,  we  shall  act,  in  some  measure,-  suitable  to  our 
obligations,  for  so  many  deliverances  and  restorations  as  we  have 
known  ;  and  learn  to  trust  in  his  providence,  and  no  more  offend 
him  by  our  unbelieving  fears.  I  hope  in  a  few  more  posts  to 
have  the  pleasure  of  a  letter  of  your  own  writing.     But  do  not 

Vol.  IV.  17 


130  tKTTERS   TO  ▲   WfrE, 

attempt  it  too  soon.  It  is  not  necessary  to  make  me  easy,  for 
I  have  been  helped  to  trust  you  to  the  Lord's  care,  with  few  inters 
vals  of  anxiety  since  I  left  you. 


Liverpool^  August  24. 
The  good  hand  of  God  has  brought  me  safely  through  a  bust« 
ling,  tempestuous  week.  I  am  to  keep  watch  to-night  till  about 
two  o^clock.  But  do  not  pity  me.  I  shall  be  most  of  the  time 
beside  a  good  fire,  reading,  writing,  and,  at  intervals,  praying  for 
you  and  myself.  I  bear  you  are  still  upon  the  recovery,  for  wnich 
I  wish  to  be  thankful,  but,  alas  !  1k)w  much  am  I  otherwise !  I 
seem  almost  to  forget  the  bitter  time  we  both  have  lately  known, 
and  to  be  nearly  impatient  to  see  you  here.  But  do  not  think  me 
uneasy  ;  1  assure  you  I  am  not.  But  1  cannot  help  feeling  that 
you  are  not  with  me.  To-morrow  my  week  of  rest  begins  ;  then 
bome  of  my  friends  may  expect  to  hear  from  me.  Of  late  I  have 
only  had  leisure  to  write  to  you*  Be  cheerful  and  dependent. 
Make  use  of  means  prescribed  for  restoring  your  health,  but  do 
not  rest  in  them.  The  blessing  must  be  from  the  great  Physician. 
To  him  let  us  apply  for  it ;  and  ascribe  to  him  all  the  praise,  if  we 
obtain  relief. 


Ldverpoaly  August  26. 
1  HOPE  I  am  not  capable  of  undervaluing  any  of  your  former 
fetters,  but  surely  this  now  in  my  hand  is  the  most  pleasing  and 
welcome  one  I  ever  received.  May  the  Lord  make  me  thankful 
that  you  are  again  able  to  hold  a  pen.  Your  brother  repeatedly 
amused  me  with  hopes  of  your  recovery,  when,  as  I  now  fintf,  you 
Were  in  the  greatest  pain  and  danger-  There  is  something  so 
close  and  pertinent  in  the  little  you  h^ve  written,  that  I  am  tilled 
with  joy4  I  have  hardly  known,  you  allow,  till  now,  that  you 
were  enabled  to  pray.  We  may  praise  God  for  that  pain  or 
sickness,  however  severe,  which  teaches  us  in  good  earnest  to  call 
upon  Him.  You  have  been  in  trouble,  you  called  upon  him,  and 
he  has  deUvered  vou  according  to  his  word.  What  shall  we  ren- 
der to  Him  for  all  his  mercies  !  Alas,  we  are  poor,  and  can  ren-» 
der  nothing  of  our  own.  But  he  will  not  despise  the  efforts  of  a 
thankful  heart.  I  wish  you  well  to  Eltham.  I  fear  the  company 
there  will  not  be  quite  suitable  to  the  present  state  of  your  mindi 
But  I  trust  you  will  keep  a  strict  guard  over  yourself,  and  redouble 
your  prayers  to  the  God  of  all  grace,  to  preserve  you  from  evil- 
Secure  seasons  for  retirement,  and  let  not  thd  world  break  in  upon 


WHILE  HESIDENt    AT   LIVERPOOL.  131 

you,  til)  you  have  daily  committed  and  dedicated  yourself  to  Him 
who  has  raided  you  from  Xhe  borders  of  the  grav«. 


Liverpool^  SepienAer  2. 

The  strain  of  your  letters  now  makes  me  think  light  of  our 
temporary  separation. .  Be  not  afraid,  only  believe.  The  Lord' 
Jesus,  whom  yon  Jieed  and  seek,  invites  yon,  and  has  declared, 
Whosoever  cometh  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out*  By  nature,  we  all 
dislike  his  Gospel,  and  see  no  excellence  in  his  person  that  we 
should  desire  him  ;  if  this  is  hot  your  disposition  at  present,  the 
change  already  wrought  is  his  work  ;  and  He  is  not  like  the  un- 
wise, inconsiderate  builder  :  what  he  begins,  he  is  both  able  and 
willing  to  finish.  You  liave  cause  to  lament  the  backwardness 
and  hardness  of  your  heart,  (the  Lord  only  knows  how  hard  and 
backward  mine  is,)  but  let  not  this  cast  you  down :  He  can  take 
Away  the  heart  of  stone.  Nor  think  it  strange  if  now,  upon  your 
setting  your  hand  to  the  plough,  the  enemy  should  assauk  alid 
trouble  you.  He  will,  if  permitted^  tempt  you  to  suspect  the 
reality  of  aH  that  you  have  experienced ;  he  will  set  your  sins  in 
order  before  you,  and  persuade  you,  if  possible,  to  look  into  your* 
self  for  qualifications  and  conditions  of  acceptance^  But  answer 
bim  from  the  word  of  God,  and  tell  him  that  he  is  a  liar,  and 
the  father  of  it.  Christ  not  only  has  mercy  for  the  unworthy, 
the  ungrateful,  and  perishing  sinner,  who  cannot  ofier  one  plea 
(as  from  himself)  why  he  should  be  spared  ;  but  it  was  pur- 
posely far  those  who  answer  to  this  character,  that  he  came  into 
the  world  to  die,  ]that  He  might  save  them  to  the  uttermost.  He 
gives  qualifications  inijeed,  but  he  requires  none  from  us.  Per«- 
haps  this  enemy  will  quote  Scripture  against  you,  and  press  such 
texts  upon  your  mind  as  might  lead  you  lo  form  hard  conclusions 
against  yourself.  But  you  will  bear  this,  if  you  consider  that  he 
bad  the  impudence  to  assail  our  Lord  himself  in  this  mann.er^ 
Matth.  iv.  This  Jesus  whom  you  seek,  was  in  all  points  ten^pted 
and  afilicted  (sin  excepted)  like  unto  us.  He  has  tasted  sufiering 
and  anguish  of  mind,  as  well  as  deafh,  for  all  his  followers. 
Therefore  He  is  a  High  Priest  who  ^an  have  compassion  upon 
our  infirmities,  and  is  able  to  succour  them  that  are  tempted,  and 
knows  what  temptations  mean. 

Go  on,  my  dearest ;  I  trust  yon  are  in  the  right  way ;  wait  pa- 
tiently upon  the  Lord.  Cast  not  away  the  confidence  you  ex- 
press in  his  mercy,  for  in  keeping  it  you  will  find  a  great  reward. 
Greater  is  He  that  is  with  us,  than  he  that  is  in  the  world. 
Cb^ges  you  must  expeqt,     The  Christian  life  is  a  warfare  ;  an^ 


Idt  liETTE&S  TO  A  WiVE, 

Iboiigh  the  Captain  of  oar  salvation,  by  conquering  for  us,  iiaf 
secured  us  the  final  victory,  we  may  be  sorely  pinched,  and  some- 
times wounded,  while  on  the  field  of  battle ;  but  there  is  healing 
balm  provided,  and  be  will  be  alwap  near  to  apply  it.  There 
may  be  fightings  without  and  fears  within ;  but  He  is  fitithfiilthat 
has  promised,  who  also  will  do  it. 

I  have  been  so  affected  and  engaged  by  the  former  part  of  your 
letter,  that  I  have  not  time  to  answer  the  other  particulars.  It  is 
my  boarding  week  again,  and  the  weather  is  bad.  But  fear  not 
far  me ;  I  am  in  safe  bands. 


lAverpoolj  September  5. 

On  the  stormy  night  you  mention,  I  was  safe  in  bed.  I  have 
been  but  once  upon  the  river  this  week.  The  wind  blew  very 
hard  then,  it  is  true  y  but  I  was  in  no  danger.  I.  hope  a  little 
practice  will  teach  vou  to  trust  me  with  equal  ease,  at  all  times, 
and  in  all  places,  where  my  duty  calls  me. 

When  you  come  hither,  you  will  perhaps  be  more  thankful  for 
my  being  settled  on  shore,  from  what  you  will  observe  of  the  anx* 
iety  of  those  who  have  husbands,  orparents,  or  children  at  sea,  in 
the  way -of.  the  approaching  war.  From  such  fears  you  will  now 
be  exempted ;  you  will  no  more  have  to  wait  eight  or  ten  months 
in  suspense.  When  I  think  of  my  settlement  here,  and  the  man- 
ner oi  it,  I  see  the  appointment  of  Providence  so  good  and  gra- 
cious, and  such  a  plam  answer  to  mv  poor  prayers,  that  I  cannot 
but  wonder  and  adore.  I  think  I  have  not  yet  told  you  that  my 
immediate  predecessor  in  oflBce,  Mr.  C****,  had  not  the  least  in- 
tention of  resigning  his  place  on  the  occasion  of  his  father's  death ; 
though  such  a  report  was  spread  about  the  town,  without  his 
knowledge,  or  rather  in  defiance  of  all- he  could  say  to  contradict 
it.  Yet  to  this  false  report  I  owe  my  situation.  For  it  put  Mr. 
M****  upon  an  application  to  Mr.  S****,  the  member  for  the 
town,  and  the  very  aay  he  received  the  promise  in  my  favour, 
Mr.  C****  was  found  dead  in  his  bed,  though  he  had  been  in 
company,  and  in  perfect  health,  the  night  before.  If  I  mistake 
not,  the  same  messenger  who  brought  the  promise,  carried  back 
the  news  of  the  vacancy  to  Mr.  S****,  at  Chester.  About  an 
hour  after,  the  mayor  applied  for  a  nephew  of  his ;  but  though  it 
was  but  an  hour  or  two,  he  was  too  late.  Mr.  S****  had  already 
written,  and  sent  off  the  letter  ;  and  I  was  appointed  accordingly. 
These  circumstances  appear  to  me  extraordinary,  diough  of  a 
piece  with  many  other  parts  of  my  singular  history ;  and  the 
more  so,  as,  by  another  mistake,  1  missed  the  land-waiter's  place, 
which  was  my  first  object,  and  which,  I  now  see,  would  not  have 


WHIU  RESIDJONT  A.T  LIVSKPOOL.  1^ 

caited  as  nearly  so  wdl.  I  thaak  God  I  can  now  look  through 
instnunentaand  second  causes,  and  see  his  wisdom  and  goodness 
immediately  concerned  in  fixing  my  lot.  He  knows  our  wants 
and  our  infirmities.  He  knows  what  indulgences  may,  by  his 
blessing,  promote  our  real  good,  and  excite  us  to  praise  his  name ; 
and  what  those  are  which  might  be  snares  and  temptations  to  us, 
and  prove  hurtful.  And  he  knows  how  to  bestow  the  one,  and 
to  withhold  the  other.    He  does  all  things  well ! 


Liverpool^  September  7. 
1  WISH  yon  well  in  the  country,  and  in  what  part  you  best  ap- 
prove. To  be  sure,  I  should  rejoice  to  see  you ;  but  I  hope  I  shall 
not  be  impatient.  However,  when  you  are  able,  the  sooner  the 
l>etter  for  your  own  sake,  as  bad  roads  and  cold  weather  are  ap* 
proaehing  ^  and  all  the  doctors  here  think  that  such  an  effectual 
change  of  air  would  strengthen  you  \  but  they  have  already  mis^ 
taken  your  case.  I  wish  you  to  come  when  you  think  you  can 
travel  as  I  mentioned,  so  as  to  hold  out  four  or  five  hours,  setting 
out  late  and  puctmg  up  early ;  if  you  can  thus  advance  only  twen- 
ty miles  in  a  day,  it  will  bring  you  to  me  in  time.  But  I  only 
give  my  opinion  ;  I  leave  you  to  your  own  prudence,  or  ratiier  to 
the  direction  of  Divine  Providence,  which,  I  trust,  you  will  both 
seek  and  find,  and  to  which  I  recommend  you  with  an  humble 
confidence.  Many  inquire  after  you,  are  pleased  to  hear  of  your 
amendment,  and  hope  to  see  you  soon.  I  say.  Amen,  at  the 
^  Lord's  best  time.  Till  then,  may  he  sanctify  our  separation,  and 
enable  us  to  trust  his  precious  promises  and  tried  faithfulness. 


lAverpooiy  September  9, 
I  wviiL  not  own,  as  you  do,  that  I  am  indolent,  but  I  am  rather 
weary.  I  would  be  thankful  for  the  account  you  give  of  your 
health,  appetite,  and  colour.  I  hope  your  strength  will  return 
^oon,  and  that  I  shall  wait  with  cheerful  patience  till  it  does. 
When  it  shall  please  God  to  bring  us  together  again,  I  hope  we 
shall  strengthen  each  other's  hands,  det  us  pray  for  this,  while 
we  are  yet  separated,  that  we  may  not  be  left  any  more  to  live  to 
ourselves,  but  to  Him,  and  may  look  upwards  and  forwards,  to 
be  prepared  for  the  next  trial ;  for  sooner  or  later  more  will  come. 
The  town  is  almost  in  mourning,  because  the  players  are  gone. 
On  their  last  night,  the  house  was  filled  by  four  o'clock.   Gayety 


134  LETTEBS  TO  A  WlFEj 

and  dissipation  of  all  kinds  .increase  daily  here;  when  this  spl« 
rit  will  stop,  I  know  not.  For  myself,  I  live  easy  and  retired, 
three  or  four  hours  every  day,  in  my  apartment,  if  business  will 
permit.  I  need  no  diversions^  and  walking  or  reading  are  my 
only  amusements,  for  I  keep  very  little  company ;  but  my  time 
is  far  from  hanging  upon  my  hands.  I  want  nothing  that  this 
world  cfto  afford  to  amend  my  situation,  but  to  have  my  dearest 
]^«*«  with  me,  and  for  this,  the  Lord's  time  will  be  the  best. 


Liverpool^  September  12. 
I  SHALL  take  care  to  write  upon  large  paper,  as  you  desire. 
But  I  believe  the  smaller  may  suffice  for  to-day.  Most  of  my 
leisure  this  w^ek  will  be  taken  up  with  Mr.  Wh-— d,  which,  as  it 
is  an  occasional  interruption,  and  from  which  I  hope  both  for 
comfort  and  benefit,  I  think  you  will  excuse.  He  came  to  town 
on  Wednesday,  preached  on  that  evening,  twice  yesterday,  and 
so  will  continue  preaching  twice  a  day  while  he  stays.  We  shall 
try  to  keep  him  till  Monday  ;  though  he  says  he  never  was  in  a 
place  where  he  had  so  little  encouragement  to  stay  as  here.  I 
made  myself  known  to  him  the  first  night ;  went  to  see  him,  and 
conversed  with  him  the  next  morning,  when  he  invited  roe  to  sup* 
per.  I  went  home  with  him  from  the  preaching,  and  staid  till 
ten  o'clock.  So  we  are  now  very  great ;  and  very  thankful  I 
would  be  for  the  privilege.  May  the  Lord  yet  give  him  to  see 
that  hi?  labour  of  love  amongst  us  is  not  in  vain.  But  surely 
this  is  the  roost  unconcerned  town,  for  its  size,  in  the  kingdom. 
I  hope  he  is  sent  to  awaken  some  of  the  people  out  of  their  false 
peace.  However,  he  is,  as  he  was  formerly,  very  helpful  to  me. 
He  warms  my  heart,  makes  me  more  indifferent  to  cares  and 
crosses,  and  strengthens  nty  faith.  I  find  you  are  making  ac- 
quamtance  with  Mr.  M****.  Well,  go  on ;  I  hope  you  will 
leave  London  soon,  or  you  will  be  thought  as  singular  m  your 
husband.  To  speak  seriously,  it  makes  my  heart  glad  to  see  in 
you  one  mark  of  a  real  believer,  in  that  you  love  the  ministers 
and  people  of  the  Lord,  and  are  not  o&nded  with  the  Gospel, 
which  is  a  stumbling-block  and  rock  of  offence  to  many.  May  he 
carry  on  bis  work,,  and  4»uild  you  up  in  knowledge,  faith,  and 
much  assurance.  Amen.  Think  of  me  as  always  thinking  of 
you,  and  praying  for  you. 


WHILS  RBSIDKKt  At  LIVERPOOL.  13^ 


Liverpool^  September  10. 

Mr.  Wb — n  left  us  yesterday  morning ;  I  accompanied  him  oA 
foot  a  little  way  out  of  town^  till  the  chaise  overtook  us,  I  have 
had  more  of  his  company  than  would  have  come  to  my  share  at 
London  in  a  twelve  month.  I  heard  him  preach  nine  times,  sup- 
ped with  him  three  times,  and  dined  with  him  once  at  Mr.  F**^^'s, 
and  on  Sunday  he  dined  with  me.  I  cannot  say.  how  much  I 
esteem  him^  and  hope,  to  my  dying  day,  I  shall  have  reason  to 
bless  God  in  his  behalf.  Having  never  been  here  before  but  one 
nighty  he  was  not  known  or  regarded  by  the  fashionable  folks, 
though  several  of  them  went  to  hear  him.  Butma^y  of  the  poor- 
er sort  are  enquiring  after  him  with  tears. 

I  commenced  acquaintance  yesterday  with  a  gobd  man,  who 
lately  lost  his  wife  in  child-bed  the  fil-st  year.  He  is  the  very  pic- 
ture of  sorrow.  I  attempt  to  comfort  him,  though  I  succeed  but 
poorly.  It  is  only  God  who  can  give  comfort  in  such  a  case.  Yet 
I  think  few  can  be  more  capable  of  sympathizing  with  him  than  my- 
self. What  I  have  lately  gone  through  is  fresh  upon  tny  mind.  And 
why  was  not  the  event  the  same  to  roe  f  Every  way  I  am  distin- 
guished. My  prayers  turn  much  upon  the  thoughts  of  our  future 
settlement.  It  will  require  both  prudence  and  resolution  to  set 
ont  right  from  the  first ;  but,  if  we  ask  of  God,  it  shall  be  given 
us.  1  would  have  you  gradually  prepare  our  sister  for  such  a 
house  as  it  will  be  our  duty  and  privilege  to  keep  y  where  God 
may  be  worshipped,  and  nothing  practised  or  permitted  that  is 
contrary  to  our  Christian  profession. 


Litterpooly  September  l^% 
I  FOLLOW  you  in  my  mind  to  Eltbam,  Bromley, '&^c. ;  thougb 
1  know  not  the  country.     May  the  Lord  be  witli  ytti  wherever 
you  go,  make  known  to  yoa  his  covenant,  and  assure  you  of  an 
unalienable  interest  in  it. 

1  thank  you  for  the  account  of  Mr.  B****'s  sermon.  You  will 
observe,  the  principal  effects  or  properties  of  Abraham's  faith,  by 
which  he  walked  with  God,  were  humility  and  integrity.  He  hum» 
bled  himself  before  the  Lord  iu  secret,  claiming  no  higher  title 
than  dust  and  ashes.  And  he  stood  up  boldly,  as  his  avowed,  de- 
voted servant,  before  men.  Let  us  imitate  him.  I  little  doubt  but 
he  was  thought  singular,  and  perhaps  laughed  at,  and  so  probably 
shall  we ;  but  I  trust  grace  will  make  us  scorn  proof,  and  not  suf- 
fer  us  to  be  in  the  number  of  those  who  are  ashamed  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  and  his  Gospel.     No,  I  hope  he  will  enable  us  to  glory  in 


IM  UBTTBRS   tb  A   WIFE, 

the  etoBSf  and  to  eadare  the  opposition  we  may  meet  with,  as  seep* 
ing  Him  who  is  invisible,  who,  when  upon  earth,  submitted  to  be 
laughed  to  scorti  himself,  for  us.  He,  having  borne  our  reproach, 
has  a  just  right  to  require  that  we  should  be  ready  and  willing  to 
bear  reproach  for  him. 

If  the  present  fair  weather  continoes,  the  road  will  be  good  to 
Warrington,  where  it  will  suit  me  rather  better  to  meet  you.  But 
if  you  come  by  Chester,  I  can  bring  you  by  water  in  a  pilot-boat 
very  cleverly.  Be  sure  that,  for  the  sake  of  saving  a  little  expense 
or  time,  you  do  not  overact  your  strength.  I  could  go  on  for  an 
hour,  in  giving  you  foolish  directions  and  precautions  for  your 
journey ;  but  after  all^  it  is  best  to  leave  you  to  the  care  of  the  Di^ 
vine  Providence,  and  to  submit  the  method  of  your  route  to 
your  own  judgment. 


lAverpool,  September  28« 
I  CANVOT  guess  the  reasons  which,  yon  say,  taken  together^ 
will  induce  you  to  come  by  the  stage.  You  may^  perhaps,  judge 
best,  being  upon  the  spot,  and  I  would  not  overrule  vour  inclina- 
tions. But  as  I  know  my  own  weakness,  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  an 
uneasy  journey,  to  roe  at  least.  As  I  have  said  before,  I  wish  to 
trust  yon  into  the  Lord's  hands ;  but  when  we  have  the  choice  of 
means,  it  is  our  duty  to  consult  Providence.  Ask  the  first  friend 
you  meet  whidi  is  the  best  adapted  to  your  circumstances,  as  just 
recovering  from  illness ;  to  travel  from  three  in  the  morning  till 
eight  or  nine  at  night,  in  "a  heavy  coachj  with  mixed  company ;  or 
from  eight  in  the  morning  till  five  in  the  evenings  in  a  chaise  with 
your  sister  ? 

I  pray  the  Lord  to  direct  and  strengthen  you^  and  to  give  me  a 
joyful  sight  of  you  agaiit:  My  poor,  weak  heart,  sometimes  re<* 
bels,  and  flilmost  complain  because  you  are  not  yet  able  to  come. 
But  this  humour  seldom  lasts  a  full  minute,  before  my  thoughts 
recur  to  the  day  when  I  left  London,  and  that  silences  me  at  once» 
What  a  heap  of  guineas  (had  f  possessed  them)  would  I  then  have 
given,  to  be  assured  that  you  should,  by  this  time,  be  so  much  re* 
stored  as  you  are  f  Alas  !  I  am  still  a  sinful,  inconsistent  crea- 
ture ;  but  the  Lord  is  merciful,  beyond  measure,  to  us  both; 

I  go  on  making  useful  acquaintance.  The  Lord  honours  me 
in  the  eyes  of  his  own  people^)  which  is  the  honour  I  most  desire. 
And  though  some  of  the  wags  of  my  acquaintance  have  given  me 
the  name  of  young  Wh*^,  from  my  constant  attendance  upon 
him  when  be  was  here,  it  does  not  grieve  me ;  and  perhaps,  if 
theywould  speak  the  tcutli,  they  do  not  think  the  worse  of  me  in 


WHILE  aCSlDENT  AT  UVERPOQIi.  ^  'l37 

their  hearts.  I  find  I  cannot  be  consistent  and  conscientious  in 
my  profession,  without  incarriog  the  charge  of  sing^olarity.  1 
shall  endeavour  to  act  with  prudence,  and  not  give  needless  of- 
fence ;  but  I  hope  I  shall  never  more  be  ashamed  of  the  GospeK 


Liverpool,  Sq^tember  26. 

I  THANK  yoo  for  thanking  me,  for  the  bill  I  sent  you.  But  do 
not  suppose  I  give  it  you.  I  expect  to  be  repaid— I  recant — ^I 
own  myself  io  debt,  over  head  and  ears  (as  they  say)  to  you 
still.  I  roust  not  talk  of  repaymmt  till  1  am  clear.  But,  I  think, 
to  do  you  real  service^  I  could  as  readily  part  with  my  life.  May 
the  Lord  unite  us,  still  more  closely,  in  his  faith  and  fear ! 

When  I  first  asked  Mrs.  D***»  to  hear  Mr.  Wh — d,  she  could 
hardly  give  me  a  civil  answer,  (though  otherwise  she  is  very 
obliging  and  respectful.)  But  curiosity,  or  a  better  motive,  pre* 
.i^ailing,  she  went  on  tlie  second  day.  She  returned  very  well 
disposed ;  and  asked  me  if  I  had  one  of  his  printed  sermons.  I 
lent  her  a  volume.  She  went  to  hear  him  again,  and  became  his 
great  admirer.  She  herself  first  proposed  my  asking  him  to  din- 
ner ;  and  his  behaviour  there  confirmed  her  in  her  respect  for 
liim.  I  invited  four  or  five  Christian  friends  to  partake  of  his 
company.  She  provided  a  handsome  dinner,  and  when  I  ^oke 
of  the  additional  expense,  she  said  she  was  very  willing  to  bear 
it;  but  I  do  not  intend  that  she  shall.  She  has  borne  there* 
proach  and  laugh  of  many  o^  her  neighbours  very  well.  They 
call  her  a  Methodist,  and  siie  seems  as  easy  under  the  charge  aft 
I  am.     So,  we  see,  very  unlikely  ^ings  may  be  brought  about. 


Liverpool,  September  SO, 
I  MUST  transcribe  part  of  a  letter  from  Mr.  W****.     "  I  have 
several  times  had  the  pleasure  of  conversing  with  Mrs.  N****. 
•  God  has  been  pleased  to  give  her  a  great  measure  of  your  spirit," 
(so  he  writes.)     '^  She  is  neither  afraid  nor  ashamed  to  own  her 
profession.     After  a  sermon  of  Mr.  B****,  on  Psalm  xxv.  14.  she 
told  roe,  that  the  hearing  of  the  great  physician  had  done  her 
more  good  than  all  her  other  roedicines."     Thus  far  he.     The 
Lord  help  you  to  go  on  and  to  increase  !  Now,  roetbinks,  I  am 
happy  indeed !  Now  my  highest  wishes  are  answered,  if  my  dear- 
est M***  is  partaker  of  the  same  hope  with  myself.     How  pleas- 
ant will  all  the  future  comforts  and  blessings,  which  the  Lord  may 
be  pleased  to  afibrd  us,  prove,  if  we  can  discern  them  conveyed 
Vol.  IV.  18  ^ 


X3S  .      hKfTtnM  TO  A  wire, 

to  OS  in  tbe  chatwel  of  redeeming  love !  How  pleasant  will  H  be 
to  look  beyood  them  all,  and,  as  the  aposlle  speaks  on  another 
occasion,  not  to  think  that  we  have  attained  any  thing  as  yet, 
eomparatively  speaking  even  when  we  have  all  we  can  wish  for, 
but  still  to  press  forward  in  our  hopes  and  views,  towards  the 
prise  of  onr  high  calling  in  a  better  world,  where  pleasure  will  be 
without  abatement  and  without  end. 

Since  you  were  so  ready  to  believe  me  when  I  said  I  had  not 
been  well,  pray  why  could  you  not  take  my  word  about  my  re* 
eovery  ?  For  shame,  my  dearest :  these  fears  and  distrustful 
thoughts  passed  with  us  once,  but  we  must  aim  above  them  now. 
Let  us  have  no  more  idolatry,  if  we  value  each  other's  peace,  or 
VLte  willing  to  avoid  such  fiery  triak  as  we  have  lately  known. 
However,  whether  you  can  believe  me  or  not,  I  must  tell  you 
again  that  I  am  in  good  health.  The  Lord  be  with  yon  where 
you  are,  and  in  your  journey  when  you  move  this  way  ;  and  may 
we  trust  and  serve  him  according  to  what  he  has  done  for  us ! 


lAverpooly  Octobers. 

I  AH.  not  sorry  that  you  complain  of  your  heart ;  for,  since  our 
hearts  will  be  bad,  it  is  a  mercy  to  be  sensible  that  they  are  so. 
Nor  will  I  contradict  you  when-  you  say  that  you  are  ungrateful, 
and  insensible  to  the  Lord's  goodness ;  only  remember  that  3roa 
are  so  in  common  with  others,  and  that  there  is  not  a  person  up- 
on earth  who  knows  hinself,  but  must  make  the  same  complaint. 
I  can  find  no  words  more  suitable  to  my  own  case,  than  those 
which  you  make  use  of,  only  substituting  your  name  for  my  own. 
*'  I  delight,  admire,  and  love  to  hang  upon  every  sentence,  and 
every  action  of  my  dearest  M***  ;  and  yet  how  wanting,  and 
howjcold,  am  I  to  the  gracious  Author  of  all  our  mercies,  to 
whom  we  owe  each  other,  our  happy  affection,  and  all  the  satis* 
iaction  that  flows  from  it."  He  might  justly  have  parted  us  long 
ago  for  my  ingratitude ;  He  might  have  shut  out  my  prayers  in 
your  late  visitation ;  but  He  has  raised  you  up  to  a  new  life.  Oh  ! 
that  it  may  be  so  indeed  ! 

I  shall  endeavour  to  temper  my  zeal  with  prudence.  I  am  far 
from  proposmg  that  you  should  keep  company  with  washerwo^ 
men  in  this  world.  (Hereafter,  I  doubt  not  we  shall  be  giad  to 
join  with  such.)  The  religious  acquaintance  which  I  wish  to 
cultivate  with  any  degree  of  intimacy,  will,  I  think,  be  confined 
to  three  or  four  families,  all  of  whom  are  better  to  pass  in  the 
world  than  ourselves ;  and  who,  though  perhaps-  they  do  not  aim 
ill  all  things  at  the  top  of  the  polite  taste,  are  sufficiently  well-bred 


WHILE  aVSIBKlIT  AT  LIVKBPOOL.  ISt 

to  be  receiTed  as  visitaiiU  any  wbere,  if  their 'principles  did  not 
hinder*  But  this  you  may  be  assured  of,  that  a  consistent  pro- 
fession of  real  religion  will  carry  the  appearance  of  singularity  in 
this  town ;  and,  .unless  you  can  confine  yourself  wholly  to  the  gay 
and  careless,  and  go  all  their  lengths,  you  will  certainly  have  a 
bit  of  the  cross  to  carry,  and  must  prepare  yourself  to  be  thought 
altered  for  the  worse,  by  some  of  your  acquaintance.  1  much 
more  fear  our  being  cowardly,  than  imprudent.  But  if  we  are  of 
the  number  of  those,  whom  the  Lord  will  not  be  ashamed  to  own 
in  the  great  day,  be  will  give  us  a  measure  of  grace,  that  we  shaH 
not  be  ashamed  to  own  his  cause  and  people,  in  the  midst  of  this 
crodced  and  perverse  generation.  But,  ,as  you  say,  there  is  a 
^oay  of  doing  thmgs,  I  shall  try  to  carry  it  handsomely  to  others. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  affront  or  quarrel  vi^ith  any  who  have  treat- 
ed us  civilly ;  but,  experience  will  convince  you,  that  the  less  we 
are  connected  with  worldly  people  the  better.  And  as  the  Lord,  by 
his  providence,  has  placed  us  in  a  state  of  entire  independence, 
and  there  is  no  consideration  of  trade  or  customers  to  prevent  us 
from  living,  in  all  points,  just  as  we  please,  1  hope  we  shall  judge 
better  than  to  sacrifice  our  happiness  and  true  interests  to  an  emp^ 
ty  sound- 
But  I  perceive  that  you,  likewise,  have  picked  up  a  fine  set  of 
roethodistical  acquaintance.  Should  your  aunt  know  it,  she 
would  set  you  down  as  almost  ruined.  But  I,  who  love  yon  bet- 
ter than  a  thousand  aunts  could  do,  congratulate  you  upon  the 
acquisition.  You  may  now  see,  by  the  examples  bi^ore  you,  that 
true  religion  has  nothing  in  it  of  the  ansociaUe  or  gloomy  ;  but 
is,  on  the  contrary,  the  source  of  peace,  cheerfulness  and  good 
humor.  If,  as  yon  say,  you  love  good  people,  He  who  has  in- 
clined your  heart  to  love  them  here,  will  give  you  a  portion  with 
them  both  here  and  hereafter.  Up<m  this  single  evidence,  St.  John 
grounds  an  assurance  of  heaven,  saying,  '^We  know  that  we  have 
•passed  from  death  unto  life,  because  we  love  the  brethren."  We 
may,  indeed,  tove  a  good  roan  npon  other  considerations ;  but  to 
Jove  l|im  because  he  is  good,  because  we  think  we  see  the  image 
-iof  oar  Saviour  in  him,  and  to  love  him  most  for  the  best  parts  of 
his  character,  is  not  possible  till  we  have  grace  in  our  hearts-; 
•for  till  then,  we  have  an  enmity  to  the  Gospel.  And  though  this 
is  not  always  visible  and  active,  in  persons  of  mild  and  gentle  dis- 
position, the  farthest  soch4:an  go  is  to  say,  I  l^e  the  man  because 
he  is  of  a  good  life  and  behaviour,  but  be  has  some  strange,  uir^ 
acconntabic  whims  and  prejudices. 


140  1.ETTE&S   TO   A   WIVlEy 


Liverpool^  October  6. 
I  BELIEVE  you  do  DOt  goess  how  I  am  disappointed  when  I  re- 
ceive only  half  a  side  from  you.  Indeed,  if  writing  is  inconven- 
ient to  you,  I  could  be  content  with  half  a  line ;  but  your  excuse 
seems  to  suppose  you  are  afraid  of  wearying  me  ;  for  you  say, 
'^  I  shorten  this  merely  because  my  last  was  so  long."  Well,  1 
hope  a  few  more  posts  will  bring  us  together ;  in  the  mean  time, 
let  me  have  as  much  of  you  as  you  can  conveniently  commit  to 
paper.  I  fear  lest,  by  the  pressing  manner  of  my  writing,  you 
should  sometimes  think  1  wrong  you  by  a  suspicion  that  you  will 
stay  a  day  longer  than  needful.  But,  indeed,  it  is  my  happiness 
to  believe  that  your  heart  is  as  much  here  as  mine  is  ^t  London.^ 
I  cannot  make  you  a  more  expensive  compliment.  But,  alas ! 
whither  am  I  running  f  I  forget  my  own  duty  and  yours.  I 
fear  it  is  of  the  number  of  our  great  sins,  that  our  hearts  cleave  so 
close  to  each  other,  and  so  little  to  the  Lord ;  that  we  are  so 
thoughtful  about  the  future,  and  so  negligent  of  the  present.  It 
is,  at  least,  thus  with  me.  I  still  feel  that  you  are  my  idol,  and 
though  the  Lord  has  lately  afflicted  you  for  my  sake,  and  is  now 
raising  you  up  for  me  again,  as  it  were  from  the  grave,  I  am 
not  yet  instructed. 


Liverpool^  October  7. 
I  CANNOT  express  what  I  felt  to-day  while  I  was  reading  your 
dear  letter,  which  informs  roe  that  you  hope  to  set  out  next  week  ; 
but  you  can  guess  for  me.  Ten  thousand  thoughts  crowd  upon  , 
me  at  once.  The  remembrance  of  that  mournful,  painful  week 
at  London,  when  I  could  only  behold  and  share,  and,  by  sharing, 
increase  your  distress,  without  procuring  you  the  least  help  or 
ease,  (which  I  hope  I  shall  never  fotget  while  I  can  remember  any 
thing,) — ^the  situation  in  which  we  parted,  when  the  Lord  enabled 
me  to  hope  against  hope — the  joy  to  think  you  now  recovered 
from  a  most  dangerous  illness— the  expectation  of  seeing  yon  in  a 
few  days,  and  the  former  experience  I  have  had,  of  what  a  happy 
meeting  with  you  includes — all  these  different  emotions  of  joy  and 
sorrow,  love  and  gratitude,  took  possession  of  my  soul  at  once. 
And  is  it  so  indeed  ?  Shall  I  receive  yon  soon  as  restored  from 
the  grave,  and  have  all  my  pleasures  heightened  by  the  contrast 
of  my  late  trials  ?  Oh  !  then  what  shall  I  render  to  the  Lord  for 
all  his  goodness  f  Could  qioney  or  friends  have  helped  us,  you 
would  have  been  relieved  sooner :  but .  there  was  no  power  in 
heaven  or  earth,  that  could  restore  ease  to  you  or  peace  to  nte,  but 
Godiilone.     To  him,  therefore  -be  the  glory  and  the  praise ;  all 


WHILE   RBSIDEKT   AT   LIVERPOOL.  141 

the  glory  and  all  the  praise !  And  let  us  aim  to  declare  bis  good* 
ness,  DOt  merely  in  secret,  or  to  each  other,  but  in  the  whole 
coarse  of  our  lives  by  choosing  what  is  pleasing  to  him,  and 
avoiding  what  he  liates.  And  especially,  let  us  watch  and  pray 
against  setting  up  onr  rest  here  below,  and  misplacing  that  regard 
upon  each  other,  which  is  dae  only  to  him.  May  we  be  enabled 
to  commit  onr  dearest  concerns,  and  have  recourse  in  every 
trouble,  to  Him  who  has  so  often  heard  our  prayers,  and  done  us 
^od.  And,  oh !  that  we  may  have  that  m6deration,  both  in 
affection  and  practice  towards  earthly  things,  which  becomes 
those  who  profess  themselves  strangers  and  sojourners  here, 
and  who  look  for  a  better  inheritance,  a  house  not  made  with 
hsmds,  eternal  in  the  heavens.  Surely  it  was  our  own  folly  that 
brought  our  late  distress  upon  us.  We  have  lived  too  much  to 
ourselves,  and  had  not  glorified,  as  we  ought,  the  God  in  whose 
bapds  our  breath  is,  and  whose  are  all  our  ways. 

When  Hesekiah  was  sick,  nigh  tinto  death,  the  Lord  railed 
him  up,  and  |#olonged  his  life  fifteen  years.  But  we  are  told 
he  rendered  not  according  to  the  benefit  he  had  received,  ^ 
Chron.  xxxii.  Alas  !  how  strongly  does  this  charge  lie  against  us  ! 
How  often  have  we  been  restored  to  each  other,  after  long  and 
dangerous  separations !  How  wonderftilly  have  we  been  pre- 
served from  innumerable  evils,  to  which,  in  such  a  world  as  this, 
we  are  hourly  exposed  !  And  yet  it  has  now  pleased  God  to  give 
ns  a  prospect  of  passing  our  days  together  comfortably,  and  free 
fiiom  many  inconveniences  which  formerly  affected  us.  But  to 
keep  ns  from  growing  too  secure,  just  at  the  time.  He  did  this.  He 
laid  his  hand  upon  you,  and  by  one  stroke  brought  us  both 
down  to  the  ground.  Now  again,  He  is  returning  in  mercy, 
bringing  us  health,  peace,  and  joy.  Let  us  bear  the  rod,  and  him 
who  bath  appointed  it.  For  if  we  come  together  yet  again  in  a 
thoughtless,  ungrateful,  self-seeking  temper,  he  can  again  separate 
us  in  a  way  that  we  are  not  aware  of.  But,  I  hope  and  pray  we 
shall  be  enabled  to  serve  him  from  gratitude,  and  from  a  consider- 
ation of  the  great  things  He  has  done  for  us,  rather  than  from  a ' 
principle  of  slavish  fear. 

If  you  are  really  afi*aid  of  being  a  hjrpocrite,  it  is  a  good  sign 
that  you  are  not  one.  For  the  hypocrite  is  secure  and  confident, 
and  has  no  suspicion  of  a  mistake.  But  the  best  persons  upon 
earth  must  own,  that  though,  through  grace,  they  are  not  hypo- 
crites, there  is  too  much  hypocrisy  remaining  in  them.  Their 
real  and  fundamental  aim  is  the  glory  of  God  ;  but  wretched,  sin- 
ful self-will  creeps  in,  and  taints  their  best  performances.  How- 
ever,.  our  comfort  is,  that  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  cleanseth  from' 
all  sin.    What  a  great  word  is  that  little  wor4  Ml  I  not  only- 


142  LETTEBS  TO   A  WIFE, 

from  sins  of  one  kind,  or  of  one  degree,  but  of  all  kinds,  and  of 
all  degrees,  when  we  apply  to  it  in  a  truly  liunible  and  repenting 
spirit. 

I  was  not  angry  with  you  for  doubting  of  my  health,  (how  do 
you  think  I  can  be  angry  with  yon  at  all  f)  I  only  meant  to  can- 
tion  you  against  an  overweening,  distrustful  care,  which  answers 
no  good  end,  but  is  a  species  of  sinful  unbelief  And  I  foresee 
that  against  my  judgment  and  experience,  and  notwithstanding  ail 
ray  grave  admonitions  to  you,  I  shall  too  often  offend-  in  the  same 
way,  and  you  will  have  frequent  occasions  of  giving  me  the  same 
advice.  But  this  is  a  part  of  our  duty,  and  our  privilege,  to 
exhort  and  admonish  each  other,  lest  we  should  be  hardened 
through  the  deceitfulness  of  sin* 

I  was  last  night  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  **^.  I  think  you  will  like 
their  acquaintance.  They  are  sober,  sensible  people,  and  seem 
very  happy  in  each  other.  What  a  pity  that  the  oiie  thing  need- 
ful should  be  wanting,  when  nothing  else  seems  to  be  wanting  ! 
^ut  so  it  was  with  us  once ;  and  it  may  be  better  Vith  them  here- 
after. 


1757. 


My  Dearest  M***,  Liverpool,  February  2. 

1  WOULD  not  give  you  occasion  to  think  that  the  return  of  your 
birth-day  is  less  interesting  to  me  at  present,  than  it  was  seven 
years  ago  ;  or  that  my  concern  in  it  gives  me  less  pleasure,  now  I 
I9im  with  you  in  Liverrool,  than  when  I  was  exiled  from  you  on 
the  coast  of  Africa.  It  is  a  part  of  my  happiness,  and  demands 
tny  daily  acknowledgment  and  praise  to  God,  that  my  regard  fot 
yon  is  no  more  capable' of  being  weakened  by  time  than  hereto- 
fore by  absence.  You  will  not  expect  me  to  address  you  in  the 
strain  of  modem  politeness,  but  I  am  persuaded  that  you  will  fa- 
voucably  accept  what  I  may  write,  because  you  will  approve  my 
motive  and  my  sincerity. 

I  often  wonder  at  the  ill-timed  festivity  and  garety  with  which 
the  return  of  a  birth-day  is  usually  observed.  Multitudes,  who 
with  respect  to  the  past,  can  find  little  to  make  them  reflect  with 
pleasure  on  their  having  been  brought  into  the  world,  and,  with  re^ 
spect  to  the  future,  tremble  in  the  midst  of  all  their  parade  at  the 
serious  apprehension  of  death,  yet  agree  to  drown  both  the  past 
and  the  future  in  noise  and  dissipation.  For  my  own  part,  I  see 
sufficient  reason  to  make  my  birth-day,  more  especially,  a  season 
4>f  serious  rejection.    And  I  recommend  the  practice  to  yon.  For 


WHUX  B»«mENT  AT  UTCVOOL.  143^ 

what  is  Ihe  laogmge  of  a  birtb-day  f  Has  it  not  a  waraiD^ 
voice,  to  remind  us  another  year  of  our  time  and  opportunities  is 
closed  upon  us,  (time  and  talents  for  which  we  are  accountable,, 
and  seasons  which  cannot  be  recalled,)  and  that  death  has  ad- 
vanced nearer  to  us  by  the  stride  of  a  whole  year  i  And,  there^ 
fore,  1  judge  that  a  birth-day  is  a  very  improper  day  for  mortals 
to  be  frolicksome*  To  those  whose  hearts  are  deeply  engaged 
in  the  things  of  tiiis  world  I  should  imagine  the  very  thought  of 
the  occasion  would  be  (like  the  hand-writing  on  the  wall  to  Bel- 
shazzer,  Dan.  v.)  sufficient  to  put  a  full  stop  to  their  feast,  and  to 
turn  their  joy  to  heaviness.  But  such  is  our  depravity,  that,  till 
grace  touches  the  heart,  the  most  obvious  and  most  interesting- 
truths  can  make  no  proper  impression  upon  us.  But  1  seem  tt^ 
forget  that  I  am  writing  to  you. 

I  am  no  enemy  to  joy  ;  and  I  am  sure  the  real  Christian,  4|rbo- 
has  peace  with  God  and  in  his  own  conscience,  has  both  the  best 
title  to  joy,  and  the  best  disposition  lor  it.  I  invite  you  to  rejoice  ;. 
but  let  it  be  in  the  right  way,  and  in  the  right  manner*  ''  Rejoice 
in  the  Lord ;"  and  *'  Rejoice  with  trembling.^'  Let  us  leara 
from  the  first,  the  sure  grounds  we  have  for  rejoicing ;  and  from- 
the  second,  the  many  considerations  which  should  correct  aud^ 
qualify  our  joy,  that  it  may  not  deviate  intoti  wrong  channel,  and 
b|M:ome  sinful  and  dangerous. 

I  say,  Rejoice  in  the  Lord.  I  congratulate  you  on  your  births 
day  ;  not  to  give  you  a  vain  complacence  in  yourself,  but  tO" 
lead  you  back  to  the  time  and  circumstances  of  your  birth,  that 
you  may  reflect  on  the  goodness  of  God.  You  were  born  of 
creditable  and  affectionate  parents,  in  easy  circumstances,  with  a 
body  neither  diseased  nor  deformed,  and  a  mind  endued  with  ra- 
tional faculties,  with  a  soul  formed  for  immortality,  capable  of 
loving  and  serving  God  here,  and  being  happy  with  him  for  ever. 
Your  lot  was  cast  in  a  land  favoured  with  the  Gospel,  without 
which  all  temporal  blessings  would  have  been  of  little  worth  f* 
butif  yon  take  them  together  and  compare  your  own  state  with 
that  of  millions  of  your  fellow  creatures,  what  great  reasons  have 
you  to  rejoice  in  this  first  view  }  But  I  would  lead  your  thoughts* 
forward  from  thence,  step  by  step,  through  every  succeeding  year, 
to  this  day  ;  through  infancy,  childhood,  and  especially  youth, 
that  dangerous  period,  in  which  such  numbers  make  shipwreck  of' 
their  hopes  and  prospects.  Must  you  not  say,  ^'  Surely  mercy 
and  goodness  have  followed  me  all  the  days  of  my  life  f "  What 
.sorrow:s,  what  sicknesses,  what  snares,  have  you  either  been  ex- 
empted from,  or  preserved  safely  through  ?  How  many,  within 
the  circle  of  your  own  acquaintance,  have  been  cut  short  b^ore 
they  reached  your  tern»of  life  i    How  many,  who  are  yet  livmg, 


144  LETTERS   TO  A   WU% 

stre  safferiog  froni  evils  to  which  yoa  are  eqaally  exposed  f  I 
make  no  scruple  to  Dnmber  our  happy  marriage  among  the  bless<»- 
ings  for  which  you  see  cause  to  be  thankful  ;  that  it  pleased  Grod 
to  bring  us  together,  to  bless  us  with  a  true  affection,  to  restore  us 
to  each  other  after  long  separations,  to  recover  us  from  long 
sicknesses,  to  fix  us  in  our  present  situation,  and,  above  all,  to  di- 
rect our  hopes  beyond  the  present  world  for  our  chief  happiness. 
This  is  crowning  mercy.  If  the  Lord  has  shown  yon  and  me 
those  things  which  are  hidden  from  many  of  the  wise  and  prudent ; 
if  we  know  our  disease  and  our  remedy,  that  we  are  sinners, 
helpless  and  hopeless  in  ourselves,  but  sinners  for  whom  a  sure  and 
tree  salvation « is  provided  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  that  we  have 
ground  to  hope  that  we  are  interested  in  the  pardons  and  prom- 
ises of  the  Gospel ;  that  the  hairs  of  our  head  are  numbered,  and 
that  all  things  are  working  for  our  good  ;  that  God  will  be 
our  sun  and  shield  here,  and  our  portion  for  ever,  if  these  things 
are  so  we  may  well  rejoice,  but  still  it  must  be  in  the  Lord  ;  for 
all  our  good,  present  and  hoped  for,  is  from  him  alone. 

But  I  say,  secondly,  Rejoice  with  trembling.  Our  joy  in  this 
world  cannot  be  unmixed.  There  are  unavoidables  which,  thougl| 
they  cannot  take  it  from  us,  will  and  ought  to  temper  it ;  such  as 
these — An  ingenuous 'sense  of  our  nnsuitable  returns  for  so  many 
and  great  mercies.  'May  God  preserve  us  from  that  terror  of  mind 
on  account  of  sin,  which,  sooner  or  later,  will  be  the  portion  of - 
those  who  know  him  not  !  We  need  not  be  distressed ;  for  though 
we  have  sinned,  Christ  has  died  for  sinners,  and  is  able  to  save  to 
the  uttermost.  Yet,  certainly,  we  have  much  cause  tb  grieve  and 
be  ashamed,  that  we  have  lived  so  long  to  so  little  purpose,  that 
we  have  received  so  much  and  rendered  so  little,  and  that  after 
all  our  experience  and  resolutions,  we  are  still  so  inactive  and  un- 
stable in  his  service.  The  snares,  temptations,  and  enemies 
around  us,  may  make  us  thoughtful,  if  they  do  not  make  us  trem- 
ble. These  would  surely  prevail  against  us  at  last,  were  not  the 
Lord  on  our  side.  We- may  almost  tremble  likewise  for  the  sins 
of  those  among  whom  we  live.  Lot  chose  to  reside  in  Sodom, 
because  it  was  a  pleasant  country,  and  well  watered ;  but  the 
sins  of  the  inhabitants  soon  made  him  forget  the  advantages  of  the 
place.  His  righteous  soul  was  vexed,  from  day  to  day,  by  their' 
ungodly  deeds.  And  so  shall  we  feel,  if  we  have  a  due  regard  for 
the  glory  of  God,  the  love  of  Christ,  and  the  souls  of  our  neigh- 
bours. We  have  likewise  cause  to  tremble,  when  we  think  of  the 
judgments  that  seem  at  present  hanging  over  a  sinful,  insensible  na- 
tion. We  have  just  reason  to  fear  lest  mercy,  so  long  despised  should 
be  withdrawn.  Let  us,  like  good  Eli,  tremble  for  the  ark  of  God. 
And  in  this  view  we  may  tremble  for  ourselves,  for  we  have  con- 


WBILB   BfiSlBSNT  A^  lilTEAPOOt.  145 

Iriboted  our  part  to  the  filling  up  of  the-  measore  of  ifatiooal 
ioiqiiity.  We  have  neither  borne  that  testimony  against  sin  in 
public,  nor  mourned  for  it  b  secret,  as  we  ought.  Aud  though, 
I  trust,  it  shall  be  well  with  us  at  last,  who  can  tell  yrhzi  scenes 
of  distress  and  difficulty  we  may  be  appointed  to  struggle  through, 
while  we  are  upon  earth  f  And  therefore  we  should  tremble, 
while  we  rejoice. 

I  could  enlarge  my  homily,  would  time  and  paper  permit.  In 
brief,  you  have,  to  my  comfort,  been  spared  to  finish  another  year. 
The  event  of  the  next  is  uncertain.  I  would  therefore  exhort  you 
and  myself,  to  live  this  year  as  though  it  would,  as  though  it  cer- 
tainly were  to  be,  our  last.  It  may  possibly  prove  so.  Let  us 
renew  our  application  to  the  throne  of  grace,  and  the  blood  of 
sprinkling.  Let  us  pray  that  we  may  be  always  ready^that  our 
hearts  may  be  withdrawn  from  worldly  things,  and  be  fixed,  trust- 
ing in  the  Lord.  And  then,  come  Hfe,  come  death,  let  peace  be 
continued,  or  troubles  be  multiplied,  nothing  shall  be  able  great- 
ly to  move  us. 


1758. 

Warringtim^  December  18. 
Mt  Deabest, 

Thus  far  it  is  well,  and,  I  trust  shall  be  to  the  end.  Thd 
weather  is  fine,  the  roads  good,  the  horse  free  and  easy.  He  has 
not  started  once  ;  though  he  sometimes  raises  bis  ears. 

Now  and  then  I  feel  some  twinges  at  being  forced  from  you, 
though  but  for  a  season ;  but  the  cause  makes  amends.  Three  or 
four  weeks  wilK  I  hope,  re-unite  us,  and  then,  one  hour  will  repay 
the  pains  of  absence.  Let  us  not  wish  away  the  interval,  but 
make  the  most  of  it,  for  it  will  soon  be  over.  The  new  scene  of 
life  which  appears  to  be  opening  before  us,  is  very  important.  We 
have  need  to  pray  earnestly,  constantly,  for  each  other,  and  for  our^ 
selves.  Make  much  of  the  means  of  grace,  reserve  seasons  for 
retirement.  Endeavour  to  avoid  the  company  by  which  you 
cannot  improve,  and  to  improve  by  that  which  you  cannot  avoid. 
Adieu.  May  the  peace  of  God  here,  prepare  you  for  his  glory 
hereafter.    Amen ! 


Hunsletty  December  15. 
I  HAVE  received  my  title  from  Mr.  C***,  and  shall  proceed 
to-morrow.     I  can  hardly  be  more  happy,  while  separated  firom 
Vol.  IV.  19 


X4fi^  wrxfiRs  *ro  A  WltB, 

JQlk  1lb8^  ^  preseii;^.  Dear  Mrs.  A**^»  who  ia  veU,  it  sitting  by 
ipe  w  h<^  )wba494's  knee*  while  poor  I  am  like  a  turtle  witiMMMl 
Diy  ^mie.  Sat  ( trujst  my  time  will  came  again.  Till  ihcD'I  can 
t^^f  wr4le9  9d4  pray ;  1  can  repeat  your  nanw  a  thouflaiid  tunes } 
^n^  tb^efore  I  look  at  them  now  wilb  a  pleasure  unmiicd  witli 
f 9vy.  But  I  mu^t  nol  trifle.  I  expect  soon  to  assume  a  ehaiw 
acter  which  ought,  if  possible,  to  wean  me  from  every  thought 
li^at  termiAaies  in  self  or  time.  Pray  for  roe,  my  dearest ;  my 
hour  of  trial  Is  at  hand  ;  a  solemn  hour,  which,  will  call  for  aU  my 
ikithi  strength,  an4  zeal.  But  the  needful  supply  is  near.  In 
our  Liord  there  is;  a  fiiloess  of  grace,  a  sufficiency  for  me,  for  you^ 
^fH(i  for  al],  that  seek.  May  he  give  you  that  peace  that  passeth 
^11  i|Rderstaj94ii^}  m^iy  be  bless  us  while  apart,  and  join  us  agaia 
%QiWf  matwJ  coipfart,  here  lor  a  time,  and  heceafter  forever. 


Londotij  December  21. 

Well  ! — ^All  is  over  for  the  the  present,  and  I  have  only  cheat* 
ed  you  out  of  a  journey  to  London.  Last  night  I  waited  on  the 
Bishop  of  Chester.  He  received  me  with  great  civility  ;  but  he 
said,  as  the  title  was  out  of  his  diocese,  he  could  do  me  no  effect- 
ual service,  and  that  the  notice  was  much  too  short.  However, 
he  counlersigoed  my  testimonials,  and  directed  me  to  Dr.  N***, 
the  Archbishop's  chaplain.  On  him  I  waited  this  morning.  He 
i;((l^rre(ik  me  to  the  Secretary,  and  from  him  I  received  the  softest 
fi^sal  imagiiiable.  He  had.  represented  my  affair  to  the  Arch-* 
bishop,  but  bis  Grace  insas  inflexible  in  supporting  the  rules  and 
^aaon^  of  the  church,  Sec. 

U»d  ipy  eye  beei^  raised  no  higher  than  to  his  Grace  of  York, 
I  sbeulil  bajve  been  displeased  and  disconcerted ;  but  I  am  in  the 
liaeds  of  the  great  Lord  of  all.  He  has  been  pleased  to  prove 
VMS,  wbetber  my  surrender  to  his  will  was  sincere  or  not ;  and  he 
lias  enabled;  me  to  stand  the  trial.  As  sure  as  our  names  are 
Johfi  and  Mary,  you  will  find  that  the  time  and  expense  of  this 
jf^urney  will  not  be  thrown  away.  1  am  quite  satisfied  and  easy. 
The  Lord  will  make  all  these  things  subservient  to  our  good.  He 
CWPp^  another  door  in  a  minute.  I  think  to  go  down  to  Chatham 
QQ  Mofiday,  and  to  set  out  for  Leeds  about  Thursday.  It  may 
be  the  second  week  in  January  before  I  reach  home,  thougb  I 
long  to  see  you,  with  all  the  eagerness  of  a  lover.  Take  care  of 
your  health,  especially  the  health  of  your  soul. 


WHILE   ftfe810SRT   k9  UTEKPOOli*  147 


Chatham^  Dteemher  25* 
I  CAME  hither,  with  your  brother,  on  Saturday.  Our  fatuQy 
are  all  well,  and  well  pleased  with  my  design ;  only  some  of  thenh 
express  a  little  of  their  cares  and  fears  about  monfey  matters. 
jMamma  had  a  pleasing  prospect  that  I  should  be  curate  to  Air. 
S***,  that  you  might  be  near  her  again.  But  this  prospect  last- 
ed only  half  an  hour,  for,  upon  inquiry,  I  found  he  was  provided. 
I  hear  Mr.  Hervey  is  dying,  so  that  I  cannot  see, him  in  this 
world.  You  may  trust  me  to  make  the  best  of  my  way  home.  I 
seemalready  to  have  been  from  you  the  term  ofan  African  voyage; 
and  still  find  as  heretofore,  that  nothing  cai)  make  amends  for  the 
want  of  your  company.  Though  the  Lord  permits  difficulties  anA 
hindrances  to  arise  for  the  trial  of  our  faith  and  patience,  I  cannot 
believe  that  he  either  disapproves,  or  will  finally  disappoint,  my 
desire  to  serve  him.  I  surrendered  myself  to  his  disposal  without 
reserve,  and  I  cannot  wonder,  nor  ought  I  to  complain,  if  he  tiaikes 
me  at  my  word,  and  puts  my  sincerity  to  the  proof.  Mr.  B^^^ 
is  pleased  with  the  disinterestedness  I  have  been  enabled  to  show^ 
and  says  he  is  persuaded  we  shall  be  no  losers.  He  doubts  not 
but  the  Lord  will  g^ve  us  more  than  He  will  call  ^s  to  part  with. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  as  to  dirty  money ;  if  He  gives  us  grace  and 
peace  ;  if  He  continues  our  affection,  and  preserve  us  to  each  oth- 
er ;  if  He  is  pleased  to  be  with  us  in  every  trbuble  and  exi- 
gence ;  if  he  afibrds  us  a  clear  evidence  of  our  interest  in  a  hea^ 
venly  inheritance-;  if  he  favours  us  with  a  calm  believing  acqui- 
escence in  his  will ;  if  he  honours  us  with  usefulness  in  this  Kfe, 
and  crowns  us  with  glory  in  a  better — we  shall  surely  have  no 
cause  for  complaint.  If  once  we  reach  heaven,  we  shall  not  think 
that  we  did,  or  suffered  too  much  for  Him  who  loved  us,  and  gave 
himself  for  us.  One  glance  of  that  happiness  which  endures  for 
ever,  will  abundantly  overpay  us  for  all  the  cares  and  fears  w€ 
experienced  during  our  pilgrimage. 

I  cannot  express  the  satisfaction  your  dear  letter  gave  rae,  ill 
finding  you  so  easy  and  resigned,  upon  the  event  of  my  late  at- 
tempt. This  is  a  mercy  1  would,  if  necessary,  or  possible,  or 
lawful,  have  purchased  at  the  price  of  a  limb.  Nothing  disquiet- 
ed rae  from  the  first  of  my  design,  but  the  fear  of  involving  you 
in  difiiculties,  or  causing  you  uneasiness.  But  in  this,  as  in  a 
thousand  instances,  I  have  found  the  Lord  a  hearer  of  prayer. 
And  I  hope,  and  believe,  he  has  a  blessiog  in  store  for  yott  updli 
this  account.  You  know  nie  too  well  to  suspect  me  of  flattery ;. 
1  give  you  my  plain  advice,  when  I  think  it  needful.  It  is  a  proof 
of  nfy  affection.  But  ticither  ought  I  to  withhold  deserved 
praise.     You  have,  fvotn  the  fifst  rise  of  thU  affair,  acted  a.  pari 


148  LETTERS   TO  A   WIFJE, 

which  perhaps  few  of  your  sex  could  equal.  To  make  such  sacrT** 
fices  so  cheerfully,  and  upon  such  slender  grounds,  is  not  com- 
mon. I  can  only  say  it  has  not  been  lost  upon  me.  My  primary 
thanks,  indeed,  are  due  to  the  Lord,  who  gave  you  to  me,  and  who 
gave  you  every  qualification  that  could  engage  my  heart,  and 
gratify  m^  utmost  wishes  in  a  wife.  My  next  are  due  to  you. 
The  whole  term  of  our  union  forms  a  series  of  many  a  proof  of 
recollected  love,  as  Thomson  speaks.  But  nothing  has  more 
strongly  enhanced  my  love  and  gratitude  to  you  than  your  conduct 
when  we  were  last  at  Leeds,  and  ever  since.  Take  courage, 
hold  on,  the  end  will  answer  your  expectations.  I  can  say  nor- 
thing as  to  particulars  ;  but,  in  general,  I  am  sure  that  none  who 
Eut  their  trust  in  God  shall  be  finally  ashamed.  I  suppose  you 
ave  yoin*  fits  of  Tear  and  unbelief.  I  have  likewise  severely  fell 
them  at  times.  But  mind  them  not ;  or  turn  them  to  advan- 
tage, by  making  them  occasions  of  more  frequent  and  earnest 
prayer.  For  it  is  written  "  Call  upon  me  in  trouble,  and  I  will 
deliver  thee,  and  thou  shalt  gloriiy  me.^^  Let  us  be  diligent  in 
the  means  of  grace  ;  these  are  the  paths  in  which  the  Lord  has 
commanded  us  to  walk,  and  where  be  has  promised  to  meet  us, 
and  bless  us.  The  enemy  would  fain  keep  us  from  them,  or  make 
them  burdensome  ;  and  he  has  too  often  prevailed.  Should  not 
experience  make  us  wise  ?  Has  it  not  always  been  best  with  us 
when  we  have  been  most  diligent  in  prayer,  most  attentive  to  the 
Scriptures,  and  most  disengaged  from  the  world  and  from  trifling 
company  ?  Have  we  not  found  a  vanity  in  every  thing  but  reli- 
gion, especially  when  trouble  has  stared  us  in  the  face,  or  when 
i)ain  or  sickness  have  taken  hold  of  us  ?  Why,  then,  should  we  be 
boled  and  deceived  any  more  ?  Let  us  return  to  the  Lord  ;  there 
is  forgiveness  with  him  for  the  past,  supplies  suited  to  every  need. 
None  that  come  to  him  shall  be  cast  out ;  none  that  rest  on  him 
shall  be  overthrown  ;  none  that  love  and  serve  him  shall  be  un* 
i:ewarded. 


1759. 


Loughborough,  Januarjf  3. 

I  HOPE  this  will  come  in  time,  either  to  prevent  or  relieve  your 

uneasiness  on  my  account.    Whatever  you  have  suffered,  or  may 

suffer,  for  me,  you  shall  be  made  amends,  so  ?ar  as  gratitude  will 

pass  for  payment,  and  so  far  as  the  study  of  my  life  can  promote 

irour  satisfaction.  If  you  have  had  fears  for  me,  they  were  need- 
ess.  '  And  I  hope  you  will  in  time  learn  to  trust  me,  and  all  your 
ct;mcerns,  to  God,  who  careth  for  us.    I  left  London  on  Saturday 


WHILE  KSSIDBNT   AT  IIVBRPOOL.  149 

about  ten,  but  soon  found  I  had  a  very  indifferent  horse*  I  have 
been  obliged  to  travel  his  pace,  for  he  positively  refuses  to  travel 
mine  :  and  though  I  tell  him  how  impatient  I  am  to  see  my  dear 
M***,  he  will  not  move  one  foot  the  faster.  When  1  came  to 
Bamet,  I  demurred  about  the  road  ;  at  length  I  turned  to  the  right, 
not  knowing  when  I  mi^ht  have  so  good  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
the  persons  I  mentioned  m  my  last. 

I  put  up  at  Welling,  sent  a  note  to  Dr.  Young,  and  received  for 
answer,  that  he  j9ou\d  be  glad  to  see  me.  I  spent  an  hour  with 
him.  His  conversation  was  agreeable,  and  much  answerable  to 
what  I  expected  from  the  author  of  the  Night  Thoughts.  He 
seemed  likewise  pleased  with  me.  It  would  have  surprised  you  to 
hear  how  I  let  my  ton^e  run  before  this  great  man.  He  appro- 
ved my  design  of  entenng  the  ministry,  and  said  many  encoura- 
ging things  upon  the  subject ;  and,  when  he  dismissed  me,  desired 
that  I  would  never  pass  near  his  house  without  calling  upon  him. 

I  spent  Sunday  at  Everton,  and  am  glad  I  went,  though  it  will 
cost  me  two  days  more  absence  from  you.  The  first  five  miles 
from  thence  into  the  York  road,  were,  I  think,  the  worst  I  had  ever 
rid  or  seen.  I  was  sometimes  in  fear  for  myself,  but  more  fre- 
quently for  my  poor  horse,  lest  I  must  have  left  him  sticking  in  the 
clay,  as  a  memorandum  of  my  having  passed  that  way.  When  I 
put  up  at  night,  I  found  I  had  come  about  six  miles  beyond  the 
place  where  I  should  have  turned  off.  It  was  a  poor  day's  jour- 
ney, but  eighteen  miles  in  all,  and  six  of  them  out  of  the  way.  On 
Tuesday  I  was  advised  to  keep  on  sixteen  miles  further,  and  I 
should  find  a  turnpike  road  to  Leicester.  If  I  had  missed  this 
turning  likewise,  I  should  have  missed  some  trouble  and  trepi- 
dation. I  had  thirty-three  miles  cross  road  to  go,  and  found 
much  of  it  a  cross  road  indeed.  Though  the  worst  pieces  of  it, 
if  taken  together,  were  not  above  ten  miles,  I  would  rather  go  a 
hundred  miles  round,  than  travel  it  again.  I  am  still  a  hundred 
miles  from  you,  but  I  have  no  more  kind  friends,  nor  cross  roads, 
to  detain  me.  Thank  the  Lord  for  preserving  me  in  health  and 
safety.  My  horse  is  recovered  from  his  fright,  and  seems  in  bet- 
ter order  than  when  I  left  London.  I  am  likely  to  jog  on  by  my- 
self ;  for  if  any  persons  were  going  my  way,  they  would  hardly 
have  patience  to  wait  my  horse^s  motions,  nor  Would  he  mend  his 
pace  to  please  any  body.  But  I  trust  I  am  not  alone,  nor  do  I 
often  feel  a  want  of  any  company  but  yours.  Continue  to  pray 
for  me-  I  trust  we  shall  live  to  see  the  hand  of  God  over-ruling 
every  thing  for  our  benefit ;  and  that  every  separation,  inconven- 
ience, or  expense,  occasioned  by  a  desire  of  promoting  his  glory, 
shall  be  well  made  up  to  us  in  the  best  time. 


150  LCTTC&8   TO  A    Win^ 


BknslHt,  Mmf  IT. 
1  CANNOT  tell  you  how  often  your  dear  name  has  been  in  my 
mouth  since  I  left  you,  nor  how  earnestly  and  firequently  I  com- 
mend you  to  the  Lord's  blessing.  May  he  teach  us  to  improve 
these  short,  occasional  separations.  When  I  am  absent  from  you, 
I  most  sensibly  feel  how  dear  you  are  to  me  ;  and  what  a  heavy 
trial  I  should  have,  if  God  was  to  take  you  wholly  from  me.  I 
ought  to  believe  that  He  will  enable  me  to  bear  whatever  he  may 
appoint,  because  such  is  his  promise ;  but  at  present  it  seems  that  a 
blow  so  near  to  my  heart  would  be  long  and  deeply  felt,  in  every 
other  circumstance  of  life,  and  that  I  should  find  pleasure  in  no- 
thing but  in  bemoaning  my  loss.  I  doubt  not  but  you  have  simi^ 
lar  thoughts,  upon  the  supposition  of  my  being  removed*  May 
We  therefore  learn,  in  the  first  place,  to  be  thankful  that  we  have 
been  so  often  restored,  and  so  long  preserved,  to  each  other ;  and, 
that  our  afiection  is  still  n^aintained  inviolable  and  increasing ; 
and,  secondly,  to  be  watchful  and  cautious,  that  we  do  not,  by  our 
idolatry  or  ingratitude,  render  it  necessary  for  the  Lord,  even  in 
mercy,  to  wound  us  in  the  most  sensible  part,  and  to  punish  either 
of  us  in  the  person  of  the  other. 


1760. 


London^  July  4. 
You  did  not  bid  me  write,  because,  I  suppose,  you  hardly 
thought  I  could  refrain,  for  so  many  tedious  days,  from  giving  my 
mind  a  litde  vent.  How  often  have  I  told  you,  that  whatever 
pleasure  or  amusement  I  may  find  in  the  company  of  friends,  yet 
there  is  a  peculiar  something,  that  shares  in,  and  gives  an  inex- 
pressible cast  to,  every  motion  of  my  mind,  when  yon  are  absent  ? 
A  man  deprived  of  his  right  hand,  may  go  about  his  business  with 
the  same  spirit  and  alacrity  as  in  time  past ;  yet  every  thing  he 
undertakes  will  necessarily  remind  and  convince  him  of  his  loss. 
This,  or  something  like  it,  I  may  have  hinted  a  thousand  times  ; 
but  as  I  write  and  speak  from  my  heart,  the  thought  occurs  as 
readily  to  me  ^s  at  the  first,  and  I  cannot  easily  avoid  repeating  it. 
1  am  afraid  of  idolatry  ;  I  am  afraid  we  have  been,  and  still  are, 
too  guilty  of  the  charge  ;  and  the  Lord,  to  whom  alone  we  be- 
long, and  to  whom  all  our  services  and  affections  are  primarily 
due,  might  justly,  very  justly,  blast  our  boasted  paradise<  Yet 
we  owe  it  to  him  that  our  souls  are  susceptive  of  tender  and  gene- 
rous feelings.  He  formed  us  for  each  other,  and  his  good  provi- 
dence brought  us  together.    It  is  no  wonder,  if  so  many  years,  so 


WHIL£  UttlDSNT  AT  trTBBPOOL.  151 

ttaoy  tndeanMiits,  so  maaj  obligations,  hare  prodvccd  an  un- 
oommoa  effect ;  and  that,  by  long  habit,  it  is  become  almost  im- 
possible  for  me  to  draw  a  tureath  in  which  you  are  not  eoncerned 
If  this  mutual  affection  leads  us  to  the  Fountain  from  whence  our 
Ueesings  £k>w,  and  if  we  can  regard  each  other,  and  every  thing 
about  ua,  with  a  reference  to  that  eternity  to  which  we  are  hasting, 
then  we  are  happy  indeed.  Theanot  even  death  (the  dread  of 
mortals,  espeeially  of  those  who  live  in  the  possession  of  their 
wishes)  can  peatly  harm  us.  Death  itself  can  only  part  us  for  a 
little  pace,  as  Uie  pier  of  a  hridse  divides  the  stream  for  a  few  mo* 
ments,  but  cannot  make  a  reed  separation.  The  friendly  waters 
soon  nix  again,  and,  with  one  force  and  consent,  press  forward  to 
the  ocean. 

Were  it  not  for  the  auppoK  of  believing  that  there  is  a  brighter 
and  a  longer  day  beyond  the  grave,  I  should  sink  down  in  despair, 
and  starve,  if  I  may  use  a  viugar  saying,  in  the  midst  of  plenty. 
For  Ihou^k  1  have  known  too  much^  not  to  smile  at  the  cold  disci- 
pi€s  {if  there  are  any  such)  of  Platonic  love  ;  yet,  methioks,  a  re-r 
gard  like  ours  is  designed  to  flourish  in  a  better  workl  than  this, 
and  can  never  appear  displayed  to  its  full  extent  and  advantage, 
until  transplanted  into  those  renons  of  light  and  joy,  where  all  that 
is  imperfoct  and  transient  shaH  be  no  more  known.  Here,  then, 
ia  the  ti^ue  plan  of  happiness  for  us  ;  to  consider  that  God,  who 
made  us,  made  us  immortals  ;  and  appointed  us  to  spend  so  many 
years  in  the  most  interesting  connexion,  not  only  to  sweeten  the 
cares  of  life,  and  to  render  uur  path  through  this  wilderness  more 
easy,  but  chiefly  that  we  mieht  be  helpful  in  animating  each  other, 
in  our  progress  to  that  kingaom  and  crown  which  is  incorruptible 
and  undemed  ;  a  kingdom  to  which  we  are  called  by  Him  who 
died  once,  to  give  us  right,  and  now  lives  for  ever,  to  give  us 
entrancew 


Liverpool,  August  6. 

It  is  almost  noon,  and  no  letter.  I  begin  to  fear  I  shall  not 
have  one  by  this  post  \  and  I  know  not  the  time  when  a  letter 
|pom  you  would  have  been  more  welcome,  or  more  necessary.  I 
oan  but  poorly  bear  your  absence  at  any  time,  but  I  seem  to  need 
you  now  more  than  ever.  I  feel  much  suspense  and  anxiety  about 
our  bte  proposed  movements  ;  and  I  have  no  one  to  whom  I  can 
unbosom  myself;  or,  if  I  had  a  thousand  friends,  they  would  sig- 
nify little  without  you.  1  am  ashamed  and  grieved  to  think  how 
iricsome  1  find  it  to  be  here  alone. 

Now  I  am  well  again  :  a  great  lop  at  the  door,  and  a  letter 
fror  /<'>m€bo^y,  has  quite  c«^  mo.    But  as  a  few  days  of  vaf 


%52  LBTTBRS    TO  A   WIFK, 

leave  of  absence  are  yet  unexpired,  and  the  collector  (to  whom  1 
told  a  sad  story,  what  a  poor  disconsolate  thing  I  am,)  has  added 
six  more  to  them,  I  think  to  take  a  jo\!imey  into  Yorkshire,  and  to 
meet  you  in  good  time  at  Manchester*  I  am  told  the  coach  per- 
forms in  two  days,  which  I  am  afraid  will  be  fetiguing  to  you  ; 
but  if  I  get  hold  of  you  aeain,  you  shall  not  want  for  good  nursing. 
I  am  glad  you  ventured  to  London  by  water  ;  for  1  wish  you  to 
strive  against,  and  conquer,  vain  fears.  The  only  way  of  doing 
this  effectually,  is  by  placing  Our  hopes  and  fears  where  alone  they 
are  due.  Let  us  pray  for  grace  to  fear  the  Lord,  and  his  good- 
ness, and  then  we  need  not  be  afraid  though  the  earth  be  moved, 
and  the  mountains  cast  into  the  midst  of  the  sea.  Many  a  prayer 
I  have  put  up  for  you  since  I  saw  you.  I  hope  the  Lord  will  an- 
swer us  for  ourselves  and  each  other.  I  hope  you  will  not  be 
wanting  to  pray  for  yourself.    Prayer  is  the  great  secret  which 

F'ves  the  true  relish  to  life.  When  I  can  pray  with  some  liberty, 
find  all  goes  on  well ;  when  I  cannot,  I  have  no  real  pleasure  in 
any  thing.  I  believe  I  should  not  have  begun  my  letter  in  so  com- 
plaining a  strain,  if  I  was  not  much  out  of  feime  tor  prayer.  Draw 
nigh  to  God,  and  he  will  draw  nigh  to  you,  is  a  maxim  that  we 
ought  always  to  regard.  To-morrow  I  set  off  for  Yorkshire.  But 
how  gladlv  would  I  give  up  the  pleasure  of  visiting  my  friends 
there,  to  fly  by  the  shortest  rpaa  to  you,  that  I  might  tell  you  by 
word  of  mouth,  if  I  was  able,  how  much  I  am 

Yours,  &c. 


1762. 


Liverpool^  June  14. 

You  will,  perhaps,  wonder  that  I  choose  the  formality  of  wri- 
ting, when  we  have  so  many  happy  opportunities  of  exchanging 
hearts  by  discourse.  But  in  this  way  1  can  collect  my  thoughts, 
and  present  them  to  you  in  one  view.  And  you  can  likewise  pe- 
ruse and  reconsider  them  at  your  leisure.  Therefore,  without 
further  apolo^  or  preamble,  I  proceed  to  the  point. 

Though  it  is  not  necessary,  it  always  eives  me  pleasure,  to  re- 
peat how  truly  I  love  you,  how  much  my  bappiness  depends  upon 
you,  and  that  1  never  taste  pleasure  more  sincerely  myself,  than 
when  1  am  instrumental  to  the  promoting  of  yours.  And  that,  on 
the  contrary,  I*  account  it  among  my  most  painful  trials  if,  either 
through  inadvertence  or  necessity,  I  occasion  you  any  uneasiness. 
I  assume  no  merit  from  being  able  to  say  this.  It  amounts  to  no 
more  than  that  I  know  when  I  am  well.  Besides,  it  is  a  just  debt, 
in  which  I  staad  bound  for  the  innumerable  obhgations  your 


WHILS  ILESIDENT  AT  LIVERPOOL.  153 

affection  daily  increases  upon  me.  I  sboald  be  blind  not  to  per- 
ceive, and  ungrateful  if  I  did  not  acknowledge,  that  you  are  not 
behind-hand  with  me  in  your  inclination ;  and  from  the  turn  of 
our  circumstances,  you  have  had  fairer  opportunities  of  showing 
what  sacrifices  you  can  make  for  my  repose,  especially  within 
these  last  three  years. 

And  still,  it  seems,  the  advantage  is,  and  will  be,  on  your  side* 
I  am  still  striving  to  decline  the  thoughts  of  an  undertaking  which, 
though  otherwise  I  should  think  agreeable,  has  this  momentous 
difficulty  attending  it,  that  it  has  not  your  full  concurrence  and  ap- 
probation.  If  I  thought  myself  in  the  path  of  doty,  and  had  yoii 
on  my  side,  roethinksall  trials  would  be  comparatively  light ;  but 
when  duty  seems  to  call  one  way,  and  my  regard  for  your  peace 
seems  to  plead  powerfully  for  another,  how  can  1  but  be  greatly 
perplexed? 

Not  but  that  I  am  well  assured.  If  I  told  you  I  was  at  such  a 
pinch  that  I  could  see  no  medium  between  grieving  you,  and  act- 
ing against  the  light  of  my  own  mind,  you  would  comply  with 
any  proposal  I  could  make  ;  and  would  rather  suffer  in  silence, 
than  see  me  at  continual  variance  with  myself.  But  such  a  con« 
sent  would  not  satisfy  me.  The  more  you  constrained  yourself 
for  me,  so  much  the  more  should  I  be  pained  for  you  ;  and  thus, 
by  our  sensibility,  we  should  give  each  other  greater  trouble,  in 
proportion  as  we  endeavoured  to  avoid  it. 

I  hope,  therefore,  that  I  write  this  in  a  happy  hour,  and  that 
the  Lord,  who  has  power  over  all  hearts  (to  whom  we  owe  our 
all,  and  especially  our  mutual  love)  will  accompany  it  with  his 
blessing,  that  I  may  not  merely  extort  your  consent,  but  obtain 
your  full  concurrence  and  approbation  to  my  design.  I  much 
desire  to  enlarge  my  little  attempts  in  the  way  of  preaching,  or  ex- 
pounding (call  it  what  you  please)  in  Liverpool.  The  wish  of 
many  here,  the  advice  of  many  absent,  and  my  own  judgment  (I 
had  almost  said  ray  conscience)  are  united  on  one  side ;  which  I 
Ihbk  would  preponderate  against  Mr.  B**^'s  single  sentiment,  if 
your  fears  did  not  add  weight  to  his  scale. 

The  late  death  of  Mr.  Jones,  of  St.  Saviour's,  has  pressed  thi§ 
concern  more  closely  upon  my  mind.  I  fear  it  must  be  wrong, 
after  having  so  solemnly  devoted  myself  to  the  Lord  for  his  ser- 
vice, to  wear  away  my  time  and  bury  my  talents  in  silence  (be- 
cause I  have  been  refused  orders  in  the  church)  after  all  the  great 
things  that  he  has  done  for  me.  And  should  he  throw  me  upon 
a  sick  bed,  or  visit  you  for  my  sake,  I  believe  the  sense  of  my 
cowardice  and  indolence,  in  this  business,  would  greatly  aggraf 
vate  my  distress. 

Vou  IV.  ^0 


154  L&TTEBS   TO  ▲   WIVE. 

.  I  thipk  tb^re  are  but  4wo  possible  objections  against  my  par* 
pose.  The  first  is;  that  I  should  probably  draw  upon  myself 
some  of  that  scorn  or  opposition  which,  in  a  greater  or  less  de- 

S'ee,  is  the  usual  portion  of-tfaose  who  determine  to  be  faithful, 
ut  even  if  this  was  a  weighty  something,  though  indeed  it  is 
quite  light  when  compared  with  the  blessings  promised  to  those 
who  suffer  for  the  troth,  it  is  some  encouragement  to  find,  that  af- 
ter it  has  been  publicly  known,  for  more  than  a  twelvemonth, 
^t  several  of  my  friends  frequent  my  house  on  a  Sunday  even- 
ing, 1  have  not  had  the  least  disturbance  near  home,  nor  been 
treated  with  the  least  disrespect  or  ridicule  abroad,  upon  that  ac- 
eoMut.  And  if  I  procured  a  larger  placid  to  ipesk  in,  I  might  still 
goon  as  quietly.     However,  I  am  willing  to  venture. 

The  other  objection,  being  started  by  prudence,  ought  to  be 
attended  to.  But  I  think  that  if  I  chose  such  times  only  as  would 
not  interfere  with  my  buVmesf,  1  should  run  no  hazard  of  losing 
my  place.  And  this  is  the  opinion  of  my  immediate  superiors  in 
office,  whom  I  have  consulted  upon  the  point.  Nay,  I.  know  not 
but  the  diminutions  I  have  found  in  my  emoluments  may  be  owing 
to  my  hesitation.  If  I  serve  the  Lord  heartily,  be  will  be  answer- 
able for  consequences ;  but  if  I  continne  to  serve  him  by  halves, 
^d  to  rebel  against  the  conviction  of  my  mind,  will  it  be  any 
wonder  that  when  I  look  for  much,  it  should  come  to  little  ? 

Yon  know  that  I  am  not  wholly  incompetent,  either  as  to  know* 
ledge  or  expression.  Shall  I  flatter  your  regard  for  me  by  hint- 
ing, that  perhaps  a  step  of  this  kind  may,  in  a  Kttle  time,  gain  me 
more  respect  and  estimation  than  I  have  yet  known  ?  But,  I  hope, 
we  both  wish  to  be  governed  by  a  nobler  motive.  It  will  be  of 
little  moment  what  the  people  of  the  world  once  thought  of  me, 
when  they  and  we  shall  stand  before  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ  I 

You  justly  complain  of  dull  Sabbaths.  Let  us  then  embrace 
tl^e  grst  favourable  opportunity  of  aiming  at  what  may  more  en- 
liven them.  You  love  to  hear  me  speak,  upon  all  occasions.  And 
I  think  yon  have  sometimes  heard  me  with  pleasure  as  a  preacher. 
And  you  know  not  what  blessings  may  yet  be  reserved  for  you. 
Perhaps  the  Lord  may  send  you  the  greatest  favours  by  the  hand 
^f  himy  from  whom  you  are  kind  enough  to  accept  the  smallest 
trifle  with  complacence. 

After  all,  as  1  have  already  said,  I  cannot  be  content  with  for- 
cing yoor  bare  acquiescence.  I  beg,  therefore,  you  will  think  it 
eiVer  frequently,  and  entreat  the  Lord  to  direct  us  both.  ^  Per- 
bif  s,  before  long,  it  may  seem  to  deserve  your  approbation.  To 
hear  yon  say  so,  would  make  me  quite  another  person.    For, 


WHILE  BfeSlDEKt  AT  LlTfiliPOOL.  ISS 

while  I  remain  in  this  suspense,  I  feel,  at  times,  a  burden  which  i 
can  hardly  bear,  and  cannot  possibly  shake  off.* 

May  the  Lord  bless,  gaide,  and  guard  you,  and  abundantly  re- 
ward yon  for  all  your  affection  and  kindness  to 

Tours,  Sue. 


1764. 


London^  April  5. 
Tour  poor  husband  has  need  of  your  prayers,  that  he  may  not 
forget  himself  amidst  the  many  caresses  he  meets  with.  I  hope  I 
shall  not,  but  my  heart  is  deceitful  and  desperately  wicked ;  and 
I  can  already  see  how  prosperity  blinds  and  hurts  even  persons  of 
good  sense  and  much  experience.  I  cannot  but  be  pleased  to  find 
so  many  gracious  people  in  the  higher  scale  of  life.  But  I  hope 
I  could  take  as  much  pleasure  in  conversing  with  the  p6dr  of  the 
flock.  1  think  I  could  be  happy  at  Olney,  if  thft  Lord  made  mt 
nseful  to  the  people  there,  though  neither  they  nor  I  should  be 
spoken  of  beyond  the  bounds  of  the  parish.  I  am  glad  yott  ate 
pleased  with  the  prospect ;  for  no  earthly  contid^ratiotr  tUri  iitt}* 
mate  me  so  much,  as  to  have  our  hearts  and  deslrefi  united  hi  this 
point,  as  they  are  in  every  thing  ^Ise.  What  a  blessing  do  I  pos- 
sess in  our  undivided,  unabMed  affection.  Sfoy  the  htiA  tMk^ty 
it,  as  a  mean  to  lead  us  both  more  closely  td  himftelf.  We  are  tetd- 
jiaratively  happy  now ;  but  we  shall  n6t  be  completely  so,  till  #e 
arrive  in  the  better  world  of  perfect  peace  and  purity.  My  heart 
rejoices  at  the  thought,  of  meeting  you  s6on  at  Liverpool ;  but 

*  The  ihHtteoctt  of  my  jvdtcioiw  and  tflectionme  oovnellor  aodefalfld  the  teal  whreh 
ilictated  the  preceding  letter,  and  kept  me  quiet,  till  the  Lord*t  tame  came  when  I  ihoald 
have  the  deeire  of  my  heart.  Had  it  act  been  for  her,  I  shoold,  perhaps,  have  pr^ctadrid 
fluyaelf  from  iboae  important  tatnet  of  serviea  to  which  h^e  was  pleaaed  |d  apfjoiat  me. 
Bet  die  exerciset  of  my  mind  upon  this  head,  I  believe,  have  not  been  pteuliar  to  nyaelf. 
i  have  known  aeveral  persons*  sensible,  pious,  of  competent  abilities,  cordially  attasbed  to 
Che  eatablifihed  ehiireh,  who,  being  wearied  oat  by  repeated  refosabi  of  ordinaiion,  and# 
perhaps,  not  having  the  advaataie  of  such  an  adviser  as  I  had,  have  al  len^  struck  into 
the  ittnerating  path,  or  settled  among  the  dissenters.  Soma  of  these,  yet  hf  in^,  are  aa^ 
of  remeiable  characters,  and  useful  in  their  miaistiy.  But  their  influence,  whieh  wouVi 
once  have  been  serviceable  to  the  true  interests  of  tne  church  of  England,  now  rather  op- 
eratss  against  it.  1  was  long  in  a  trying  situation,-  thinking  myself  bound  in  eanaci^nee, 
upon  groonds  which,  1  believe,  would  have  stood  the  test  of  candid  examinatiod,  c^ukl  I 
Jiave  obtained  a  hearing ;  and  yet  refused  admission,  by  two  archbishops  and  one  bishop, 
into  that  line  of  service  which  had  my  decided  preferenee.  This  was  one  of  the  reason»l 
lave  to  praise  God  for  the  partner  He  mercifully  allotted  me.  She  waa  useful  to  me 
through  life,  but  perhaps  in  no  one  instance  more  essentially  so,  than  in  the  pradeni  use 
ehe  made  of  my  afleeUon  to  her,  and  of  hers  to  me«  4i  this  period.  I  believe  no  aiKuineaia 
bet  hers  could  have  rastrained  me  for  almost  two  years,  from  taking  a  rash  step,  of  which  I 
»honM,  perhaps,  have  aoon  repented,  and  which  would  have  led  me  far  wide  of  the  hoft- 
oer  and  dottM  I  have  since  been  favoured  with.  The  KionTatla^  ia  Tike  the  Uihe  of 
tide^  which  no  hontu  power  esn  eiOrer-aet^rtte  wxetard.  Thvii^  it  tmy,  wait  for  \u 


156  LETTERS   TO   A   WIFE. 

what  will  that  be  to  the  joy  when  we  shall  stand  together  before 
the  throne  of  glory,  free  from  every  imperfection  and  trial ;  when 
we  shall  see  Jesus  as  he  is,  be  fully  conformed  to  his  image,  and 
join  in  singing  bis  praises  for  ever.  With  what  complsusance 
shall  I  then  consider  you  as  the  instrument  the  Lord  prepared  te 
preserve  me  from  ruin  f  And  how  will  you  praise  him  for  our 
union,  if  he  is  pleased  to  make  me,  in  any  measure,  Useful  to  pro- 
mote your  faith  and  hope ! 

I  cannot,  as  yet,  judge  how  my  affairs  will  terminate.  If  it 
please  the  Lord,  if  it  be\he  right  place  and  the  right  time,  I  shall 
succeed.  But  I  would  have  you  prepared  for  what  we  call  a  dis- 
appointment. But  disappointments  are  neither  more  nor  less  than 
providential  intimations  of  the  will  of  God. 


JLomifon,  ^pril  12. 

I  WAS  with  the  bishop  of  Lincoln  this  morning,  and  he  has  fixed 
on  Monday  next  for  my  examination.  If  I  get  safe  through  that 
scene,  1  suppose  my  ordination  will  soon  follow.  He  received 
me  with  great  civility  and  candour.  The  beginning  of  my  inter- 
view with  the  bishop  of  Chester  was  not  so  pleasing.  I  suspect 
that  some  person  or  persons  at  Liverpool  had  written  to  him,  and 
not  in  my  favour.  Great  men  not  being  able  to  see  every  where 
with  their  own  eyes,  must  depend  upon  information,  and  are  liable 
to  be  imposed  upon  by  misrepresentation.  He  said,  that  before 
he  could  authenticate  my  testimonials,  he  must  ask  roe  some  ques- 
tions. But  when  I  showed  him  Lord  D***'s  letter,  a  full  stop 
was  put  to  all  inquiries  but  what  were  agreeable.  He  became  ve- 
ry sociable ;  kept  me  in  chit-chat  near  an  hour  i  and,  when  I  took 
my  leave,  he  wished  me  much  success.  I  shall  be  glad  to  have 
this  business  fairly  finished.  My  mind  has  been  gready  unsettied. 
Much  company,  and  frequent  changes,  do  not  well  suit  me. 
Friends  smile  and  favour  roe  on  all  sides  ;  but  creature-regards 
affect  me  too  strongly,  and  I  feel  a  degree^of  dearth  in  the  midst 
of  plenty.  I  hope  I  shall  be  better  when  we  return  to  our  old 
uniform  way  of  life,  so  far  as  the  expected  change  will  admit  of 
uniformity.  I  have  been  more  familiar  with  the  higher  sort  of 
life  of  late  than  formerly,  and  see  it  in  its  greatest  advantage  and 
beauty.  But  stiil  my  heart  is  at  home ;  and  I  am  fully  convinc- 
ed, that  no  assemblage  of  earthly  things  could  make  me  more 
happy  than  I  have  been,  and  hope  to  be  again,  in  the  moderate 
situation  to  which  we  have  been  accustomed. 

I  (desire  to  praise  God  for  the  progress  of  your  recovery ;  and 
begm  now  to  think  seriously  of  our  removal.    How  will  you  be 


WHILC  aSSIDSlIT  AT  UVEBPOOI*.  l§f 

able  to  travely  so  soon  after  your  loog  illness  and  confiiieiDeDt  ? 
Bat  why  do  I  look  so  far  beforehaod  f  Will  oot  He,  who  has 
done  so  much  for  us,  do  what  is  still  needful  i  I  must  break  off% 
May  the  Lord  bless  and  comfort  you. 


London^  April  16. 

Just  in  the  apparent  moment  of  success,  new  difficulties  occur- 
red,  whicli  seemed  to  threaten  a  total  overthrow  to  my  business. 
So  the  poor  sailor  is  sometimes  alarmed  with  the  apprehension  of 
shipwreck,  when  his  port  is  in  view.  But,  as  I  trust  all  difficult 
ties  are  now  obviated,  through  the  kind  interference  of  Lord 
D****,  to  whom  I  have  occasioned  too  much  trouble,  I  shall  say 
no  more  of  them. 

I  waited  on  the  bishop  of  Lincoln  this  morning,  and  have  rea- 
son to  revere  him  for  his  candour  and  tenderness.  The  examina- 
tion lasted  about  an  hour,  ohiefly  upon  the  principal  heads  of  di- 
vinity. As  I  was  resolved  not  be  charged  hereafter  with  dissimu^ 
lation,  I  was  constrained  to  dissent  from  his  lordship  in  some 
points.  But  he  was  not  offended  ;  he  declared  himself  satisfied, 
and  has  promised  to  ordain  me,  either  next  Sunday,  in  town,  or 
the  Sunday  following,  at  Buckden.    Let  us  praise  the  Lord ! 


London^  April  30. 
What  thanks  do  I  owe  to  the  Lord,  for  all  his  goodness  to  me ! 
He  made  me  willing  to  resign  all,  and  to  enter  upon  a  very  ob* 
scure  and  limited  service,  for  the  sake  of  his  Gospel ;  but  when  it 
came  to  the  point,  he  mercifully  interposed  to  prevent  it.  I  as- 
cribe it  to  bis  goodness,  that  my  application  to  the  archbishop,  six 
years  ago,  did  not  succeed.  There  is  now  a  probability  of  my 
being  comfortably  fixed,  in  a  more  agreeable  connexion.  May 
he  keep  me  humble  and  dependent,  and  all  will  be  well.  But  I 
see  some  striking  and  unexpected  instances  of  the  great  danger  to 
which  the  countenance  and  friendship  of  persons  of  distinction 
may  expose  a  minister.  We  are  poor,  weak,  inconsistent  crea- 
tures, if  left  but  a  little  to  ourselves.  My  next  acknowledgments 
are  due  to  Lord  D***^.  He  has  greatly  interested  himself  in 
my  behalf.  Considering  his  rank  and  some  other  circumstances/ 
I  might  wonder  that  he  should  submit  to  take  so  much  trouble, 
did  I  not  observe,  from  other  instances,  that  he  thinks  not  of  him- 
self, where  there  is  any  probability  that  his  influence  can  procure 
benefit  to  others. 


158  LETTERS    TO   A    WIFliy 

As  I  have  a  little  liesure,  I  must  fill  up  the  paper  ;  but  how  7  I 
can  repeat  that  I  love  you,  that  I  continually  offer  up  praycfs  and 
thanks  on  your  behalf.  I  can  tell  you  again,  as  I  have  told  you  a 
thousand  times  that  your  dear  person,  your  affection,  and  all  its 
interesting  proofs  and  pledges  are'deeply  engraven  on  my  heart* 
Oh.!  what  do  I,  what  do  we  both,  owe  to  the  God  of  our  lives  ! 
Shall  not  the  mercies  we  possess  in  each  other,  though  great  and 
valuable  in  themselves,  be  much  more  so  in  their  effects !  Shall  they 
not  lead  us  higher,  and  prove  as  steps  by  which  we  may  rise  to  a 
still  greater  happiness !  Yes,  I  trust  so.  When  I  look  back  with 
Wonder  to  see  how  the  Lord  has  led  us  thus  fkr,  by  a  way  which 
we  knew  not,  I  am  encouraged  to  hope  that  the  end  will  crown  the 
whole.  How  gracious  has  he  been  to  me,  in  preserving  me  from 
innumerable  inconveniences  into  which  1  have  been  ready  to 
plunge  myself;  and  in  giving  me  so  many  advantages  and  friends! 
How  gracious  has  he  been  to  you,  in  visiting  you  seasonably,  yet 
gently,  from  time  to  time  ;  in  mitigating  your  illness  ;  preserving 
and  composing  you  during  my  absence  ;  in  permitting  you  again 
to  ^o  abroad  !  And  now,  1  hope,  you  have  a  change  of  situation 
before  you,  which  will  prove  to  your  comfort  in  eveiy  respect. 
It  is  true,  as  you  observe,  if  we  remove  to  OIney,  we  shall  not  be 
wholly  without  trials.  They  are  inseparable  from  this  mortal 
state,  and  they  are  necessary  to  discipline  us,  and  to  keep  us  from 
wandering.  Let  us,  therefore,  guard  against  resting  in  the  crea- 
ture. Let  us  pray  for  submission  to  the  will  of  God,  and  that  we 
may  welcome  every  ;cvent,  from  a  sense  of  his  hand  being  con- 
cerned in  it,  and  a.  persuasion,  (which  his  promises  warrant^  that 
some  way  or  other,  all  shall  conduce  to  our  final  advantage* 


Buckdcfiy  April  28. 

I  HAVE  waited  upon  the  bishop  this  afternoon  ;  have  gone 
through  all  the  previous  forms,  and  am  to  be  ordained,  (if  the 
Lord  please,)  at  eleven  to-morrow. 

I  hope  the  repeated  intimations  I  have  given  you  concerning 
this  long-expected  to-morrow,  have  been  in  time  to  engage  you  in 
earnest  prayer  for  me.  I  now  almost  stagger  at  the  prospect  be- 
fore me.  My  heart  is,  in  some  measure,  though  I  dare  not  say 
suitably,  affected.  I  am  to  stand  in  a  very  public  point  of  view,  to 
take  the  charge  of  a  large  parish,  to  answer  the  incessant  demands 
of  stated  and  occasional  services,  to  preach  what  I  ought,  and  to 
be  what  I  preach.  Oh  !  what  zeal,  faith,  patience,  watchfulness, 
and  courage,  will  be  needful  for  my  support  and  guidance  !  My 
only  hope  is  in  the  name  ancl  power  of  Jesus.  May  that  precious 
name  be  as  ointment  poured  forth  to  your  soul  and  mine  !  May 
that  power  be  triumphantly  manifested  in  oujs  weakness ! 


WHILK   RESipitNT   AT  OLNEY.  159 

I  purpose  now  to  cross  the  country  to  Oiney,  just  to  peep  at  the 
place  and  people,  and  to  take  the  Liverpool  coach  at  Stony-Strat- 
ford. If  fvo,  we  may  meet  on  Thursday.  My  heart  jumps  at  the 
thought.     But  the  Lord's  time  will  be  the  best. 


Buckderij  June  14. 

I  CAME  hither  in  safely,  about  eleven  this  morning.  I  have 
been  twice  at  prayers  at  the  chapel.  The  bishop  received  me 
very  kindly.  Whether  I  have  a  second  examination  to  go  through 
or  not,  I  cannot  yet  tell* 

I  understand  I  cannot  be  dismissed  very  soon  on  Monday  ;  so 
that  it  will  probably  be  tea-time  before  1  am  with  you.  I  think 
you  will  trust  me  not  to  make  any  unnecessary  delay.  You  know 
where  1  left  my  heart,  and  that,  even  if  I  was  in  a  much  more  ' 
agreeable  situation  than  at  present,  I  would  break  through  all  for 
your  sake,  and  prefer  the  little  vicarage  of  Obey  with  you  in  it,  to 
the  palaces  of  kings  without  you. 

I  meet  here  with  many  candidates  for  orders,  but  I  know  not 
that  there  is  one  of  my  own  turn.  However,  they  are  all  very 
civil ;  and  I.  endeavour  to  accommodate  myself  to  them,  as  far  a^ 
duty  and  conscience  will  permit. 

I  pray  the  Lord  to  fill  your  heart  with  his  love.  Then  you  will 
bear  my  absence  as  easily  as  we  can  brook  the  want  of  a  candle 
when  the  sun  shines  in  his  noon-day  strength.  Pray  for  me,  and 
for  yourself.  And  remember  that,  amidst  the  many  things  which 
require  a  degree  of  our  attention,  one  thine  is  more  especially 
needful.    I  commend  you  to  his  grace  and  blessing. 


Olnet/y  July  12. 

Your  letter  (as  yoU  will  believe)  was  very  welcome.  1  desire 
to  be  thankful  for  your  safe  journey.  I  set  off  the  moment  the 
coach  was  out  of  sight,  and  bad  a  pleasant  walk  home.  As  I  was 
passing  through  Emberton,  an  old  woman  came  after  mc,  and  in- 
vited me  to  her  cottage.  Five  or  six  more  women  soon  joined  us.. 
We  talked,  sung  a  hymn,  and  I  prayed.  I  thought  it  a  good  bait- 
ing place  by  the  way. 

I  am  well,  and  as  comfortably  settled  as  1  can  desire,  during 
your  absence.  I  feel  the  want  of  your  company,  but  hope  to  bear 
It  without  anxiety.  I  cannot  wish  to  love  you  less ;  I  hope  it  is 
impossible.  But  I  wish,  for  us  both,  that  our  regard  may  be 
sanctified,  and  kept  in  due  subordination.  While  I  rejoice,  that 
we  are  so  happily  sensible  of  what  we  owe  to  each  other,  1  have 


160  LETTEES   TO   A  WIFE, 

cause  to  mourn  that  our  love  to  him  should  be  so  faint  and  dispro- 
portionate. His  love  to  us  passes  knowledge.  He  loved  us, 
when  we  were  enemies,  with  a  love  expensive  and  interesting,  be- 
yond expression ;  a  love  that  exposed  him  to  ignominy  and  torture, 
that  cost  him  his  blood  and  his  life  ;  a  love  that  makes  over  to 
those  who  believe  in  him,  all  the  riches  of  grace  and  glory. 

You  need  not  propose  Mr.  T****'s  case  to  me  as  caution. 
Our  situations  and  constitutions  are  different.  However,  I  shall 
try  to  be  prudent  and  careful.  But  our  times  are  in  the  Lord's 
hands.  He  who  preserved  me  at  Liverpool,  will  preserve  me  at 
Olney,  so  lone  as  he  has  service  for  me  to  do.  Beyond  this,  I 
have  no  great  desire  to  live,  unless  upon  your  account.  And,  I 
trust,  he  will  spare  me  while  it  is  neeaful,  and  good  for  you.  If 
we  have  an  eternity  to  spend  together  in  his  praise,  it  is  no  great 
matter  who  is  removed  first,  or  how  soon.  All  our  tears  will  be 
then  wiped  away. 

All  our  friends  here  seem  to  vie  in  civility  ;  and  those  who  are 
not  friends  are  kept  quiet.  I  hope  not  to  provoke  them  by  any 
part  of  my  behaviour  ;  but  if  they  will  be  offended  with  me  for 
speaking  the  truth,  I  cannot  help  it.  As  to  provision,  I  am  quite 
easy  about  it.  The  Lord,  who  brought  me  from  Africa,  where  I 
was  destitute  of  every  thing  ;^^ho  has  given  you  to  me,  and  dealt 
so  bountifully  with  us  hitherto,  will  not  suffer  us  to  want  any  real 
eood,  now  he  has  so  visibly  displayed  his  power  and  providence 
in  placing  me  here. 


Olnejfj  July  14. 

I  OBSERVE  what  you  say  about  Hempstead.  It  seems  a  situa- 
tion in  some  respects  desirable,  and,  was  1  only  to  consult  my 
affection  for  you,  I  should  wish  to  see  you  in  more  agreeable  cir- 
cumstances than  I  can  expect  to  procure  you  here.  But  we  have 
striking  examples,  to  remtnd  us  of  the  danger  of  choosing  for  our- 
selves, and  being  dazzled  by  great  prospects.  I  am  weU  convin- 
ced that  the  Lord  brought  us  hither ;  and  without  as  clear  an  inti- 
mation of  his  will,  I  hope  I  shall  not  indulge  a  wish  for  a  removal. 
The  people  love  me  ;  express  a  warm  desire  for  my  continuance ; 
our  assemblies  are  crowded,  and  I  hope  the  Lord  makes  my 
preaching  useful.  While  things  bear  this  pleasing  appearance,  I 
should  not  only  be  ungrateful  to  the  Lord  and  my  friends,  but 
blind  to  mv  own  comfort,  if  1  listened  to  a  new  offer. 

My  health  continues  good,  and  I  can  hardly  form  a  wish  but  for 
you.  But  when,  which  is  very  often,  I  think  of  the  distance  be- 
tween us,  I  give  a  little  sigh,  and  long  to  see  you.  I  pray  many 
times  in  a  day  for  your  peace  and  establishment  in  grace  *,  and  I 


WHILE   RCSiraVT  AT  OLNfcT.  161 

• 

Itjoice  in  the  hope  that  God  is  gently  dravdng  you  to  himself,  by 

the  altcntate  inducements  of  light  afflictions,  and  weighty  com- 
forts and  favours.  Let  this  be  your  encouragement  and  mine, 
that  no  one  ever  sought  him  (in  the  way  of  his  own  appointment) 
in  vain.  Though  he  may  seem  to  delay,  he  will  surely  come,  and 
overpay  our  expectation.  For  myself,  I  have  been  brought,  al- 
most imperceptibly,  thus  far.  When  I  think  how  cold,  dull,  and 
heartless  I  have  been  ;  how  often  1  have  wandered,  how  often  tri- 
lled upon  the  brink  of  temptation  ;  when  I  consider  what  power- 
ful, vigilant,  and  subde  enemies  are  combined  aeainst  me,  and  how 
many  professors  have  fallen  on  my  right  hand  and  my  left,  1  am 
amazed  at  the  greatness  of  his  mercy  in  preserving  me.  I  am  a 
living  witness  that  there  is  forgiveness  with  him ;  and  that  he  is 
able  to  save  to  the  uttermost. 


Oiney,  July  21. 

The  account  you  give  me  of  the  gentleman  who  dined  with  you, 
is  very  affecting-  Every  loss  is  gain  that  is  over-ruled  to  bring 
the  soul  home  to  God.  But  the  Lord  hath  dealt  still  more  fa- 
vourably with  us.  How  often  have  we  deserved  to  be  separated ! 
Yet  we  are  spared  to  each  other.  May  our  lives  praise  nim,  and 
may  we  be  freed  from  idolatry  !  To  love  each  other,  and  dearly 
too,  is  no  sin  ;  nay,  it  is  our  duty.  But  he  will  not  suffer  a  crea- 
ture to  usurp  his  place  in  the  heart.  The  time  of  our  ignoijince,  he 
mercifully  winked  at ;  but  now  he  has  shown  us  what  is  right,  it 
behooves  us  to  be  upon  our  guard.  Oh  !  that  he  may  so  display 
the  power  of  his  grace,  that  the  bonds  and  shackles  which  detain 
our  souls  might  be  broken  !  He  can,  he  will  do  it,  if  we  wait  and 
pray. 

I  now  can  judge  by  my  own  feelings,  how  much  you  must  have 
suffered  during  my  long  stay  in  London,  especially  sick  and  con- 
fined as  you  were,  and  anxious  for  the  event  of  my  journey.  I 
never  pitied  you,  ajs  I  ought,  till  now.  For  though  I  likewise 
longed  every  day  and  every  hour  to  see  you,  I  had  many  things 
to  divert  my  attention,  and  alleviate  the  feelings  of  absence.  But 
at  present,  1  am  as  you  were  then,  at  home  and  alone.  But  as  I 
know,  let  Who  will  have  your  company,  I  have  your  heart,  I  can 
make  a  good  shift  for  a  time. 

How  are  brother  and  sister  C****  ?  Do  thev  love  like  us  ? 
No,  they  cannot  yet.  For  love  at  first  is  a  child,  and  grows 
stronger  by  age.  I  wish  them  happy ;  more  happy  than  this 
world  can  make  them. 

Vol-  IV.  21 


163  LETTERS   TO  A   WIFE, 

I  FEEL  your  head*ache  at  this  distance.  Your  frequent  indispo- 
ftitions  are  hot  pleasant ;  but  1  trust  they  are  mercies,  for  which 
we  have  reason  to  be  thankful*.  Our  comforts  and  crosses  are  all 
from  the  same  hapd.  We  have  chastisement,  only  because  we 
jQ^ed  it.  I  aim  to  leave  you  in  the  Lord's  hands.  Should  we  not 
forget  ourselves,  if  he  did  not  seasonably  remind  us  what,  and 
where  wo  are  ?  In  the  case  of  some  of  your  dear  friends,  for 
whom  you  grieve,  you  may  see  how,  in  all  probability,  it  would 
have  been  with  you,  if  his  eye  of  love  had  not  been  fixed  upon  you 
from  your  birth.  He  prepared  his  dispensations,  to  withdraw  you 
gradually  from  that  life  of  vanity  and  dissipation  to  which  you 
might  otherwise  have  been  enslaved  all  your  days.  And  he  has 
been  gently  dealing  with  your  heart  for  several  years  past ;  lead- 
ing you,  if  slowly,  yet  I  hope  surely*,  nearer  to  himself.  How 
much  of  his  ways,  how  many  of  his  people,  has  he  shown  you  ! 
and  he  has  given  you  a  heart  to  love  them,  and  reconciled  you 
to  things  to  which  you  were  once  as  litde  inclined  as  those  whom 
you  now  pity. 

If  I  consider  the  endearing  union  he  has  cemented  between  us, 
with  all  its  effects,  only  in  a  temporal  view,  I  prefer  it  to  all  the 
treasures,  pleasures,  and  honours,  this  world  can  afford  ;  so  that 
I  would  not  exchange  the  joy  I  feel  in  the  thought  that  you  aro 
mine,  to  be  monarch  of  the  whole  earth.  B(}t,  surely,  it  is  much 
more  valuable,  considered  as  the  mean  by  which  the  Lord  design- 
ed to  ufite  us  both  to  himself. 


1766. 


Olneifj  September  12. 
i  PRAT  God  to  bless  to  you  the  ordinances  and  conversation  you 
Rre  favoured  with  in  London,  that  you  may  go  into  Kent  filled 
with  the  spirit  of  truth  and  love.  When  you  are  there,  I  hope 
you  will  make  good  use  of  the  Bible,  and  throne  of  grace,  to  pre- 
serve you  from  being  infected  by  the  spirit  of  the  world.  Ah, 
jc.  wKat  a  poor,  vain  thing  is  the  world  !  We  have  both  found  it  so  at 

time]»,^ though  we  once  loved  it,)  and  shall  find  it  so  again.     But 
'5;  may  the  Lord  keep  us  alive  to  a  sense  of  its  vanity,  before  more 

'f.  evil  days  return  to  extort  the  confession  from  our  feelings !  Sick- 

fi'  ness  and  pain,  and  a  near  prospect  of  death,  force  upon  the  mind 

\  a  conviction  of  the  litdeness  and  vanity  of  a  worldly  life.     But 

*  there  is  a  more  pleasing  way  of  learning  this  lesson,  if  we  pay  due 

attention  to  the  word  of  God,  and  pray  lor  the  light  of  his  counte- 
nance.   If  he  is  pleased  to  make  his  face  to  shine  upon  us,  all 


WHILE   BfiSlDBMT  AT  OLNBT.  ISS 

that  the  world  can  offer  to  bribe  os,  will  appear  iasignificaiit  and 
trivial  as  the  sports  of  cbildren* 

He  who  has  given  us  this  desire,  will,  I  trust,  answer  it,  and 
unite  our  souls  to  himself  for  ever  !  Happy  state  i  To  have 
peace  with  God,  by  Jesus  Christ;  liberty  of  access  at  a  throne 
of  grace  ;  an  interest  in  all  the  promises  ;  a  sure  guide  by  the 
way ;  and  a  sure  inheritance  at  our  journey's  end !  These  things 
were  once  hidden  from  us.  We  were  so  blinded  by  the  God  of  this 
world,  that  we  could  look  no  further  than  the  present  }ife.  But, 
even  then  the  Lord  looked  upon  us  with  an  eye  of  mercy.  He  led 
us  on,  gradually,  by  a  way  which  we  knew  not,  to  bring  us  into 
the  paths  of  peace.  How  wonderful  has  our  history  been,  not 
mine  only,  but  also  yours!  How  often  has  be.  made  himself 
known  as  your  Deliverer  and  Physician,  in  raising  you  up  from 
the  gates  of  the  grave  !  May  we  always  remember  his  goodness 
in  your  last  affliction.  How  did  he  sweeten  the  bitter  cup  ; 
strengthen  you  with  strength  in  your  soul ;  enable  you  to  pray 
for  yourself,  engage  the  hearts  of  many  in  prayer  for  you,  and 
cben  speedily  answer  our  prayers.  Let  us  then  excite  each  other 
to  praise  him  !  I  hope  this  little  interval  of  absence  will  be  useful, 
to  make  me  more  sensible  of  his  goodness  in  still  sparing  you  to 
me.  I  make  but  a  poor  shift  without  you  now  from  day  to  day  } 
but  I  am  comforted  by  the  hope  of  seeing  you  again  shortly. 
Had  you  been  removed  by  your  late  fever,  1  should  not  nav%  had 
this  relief !  May  we  then  live  to  him,  and  maj  every  day  be  a 
preparation  for  the  parting  hour.  Dark  as  thi  Aiour  seems  in  the 
prospect,  if  we  are  established  in  the  faith  and^^ope  of  our  Lord, 
we  shall  find  it  supportable ;  and  the  separation  will  be  short. 
We  shall  soon  meet  again,  happy  meeting  !  to  part  no  more  !  to 
be  forever  with  the  Lord  ;  to  join  in  an  eternal  song  to  him  who 
loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood!  Then  aU 
tears  shall  be  wiped  from  our  eyes,  and  we  shall  weep  no  more 
forever. 


Olney,  September  26* 
1  WAS  with  you  in  spirit  this  evening,  at  the  Lock,  and  prayed 
that  the  Lord  would  give  a  blessing  to  what  you  might  hear.  To 
love  and  trust  tlie  Lord  Jesus,  is  the  great  lesson  we  have  to 
learn.  We  are  slow  scholars,  but  he  can  teach  us  effectually. 
Without  him,  the  very  best  o{ this  life  is  insipid,  and  his  presence 
can  make  the  worst  supportable.  I  often  think,  and  hope,  you  do 
not  forget  how  graciously  he  supported  and  answered  you,  in 
your  late  distress.    There  was  a  something  that  could,  and  did, 


164  LETTBBS  TO  A  WW», 

bear  you  up  under  pain  and  anguish,  and  refresh  your  spirits 
when  your  bodily  strength  vas  almost  worn  out.  This  is  an  in- 
stance of  what  he  can  do ;  ai\d  should  be  a  bond  of  gratitude  up* 
on  both  our  souls.  Your  health  is  restored,  and  mine  is  preserved. 
May  we  devote  our  whole  selves  to  him.  He  has  great  things  to 
bestow  ;  and  if  we  feel  our  need  of  his  mercy,  we  arc  properly 
qualified  to  receive  it.  We  are  not  called  to  buy,  but  to  beg ;  to 
receive,  without  money  and  without  price.  By  believing,  aH 
becomes  freely  and  surely  our  own  ;  not  on  the  account  of  our 
prayers,  but  of  his  promise,  blood,  and  mediation.  And  all  he  re- 
quires of  us  is,  to  be  humble  and  thankful ;  and  the  more  he  gives 
us,  to  desire  still  the  more.  Oh,  my  dearest  M***,  I  bless  his 
name  for  bringing  us  together,  and  for  sparing  us  to  have  some 
knowledge  and  communion  in  these  great  things  !  How  many 
that  were  joined  about  the  same  time  with  us,  or  since,  have  been 
separated  by  death  !  How  many  are  living  in  mutual  disgust ! 
And  how  many,  who  seem  happy,  are,  in  reality,  miserable,  be- 
cause they  know  nothing  of  the  Lord,  and  of  his  goodness  ! 


OZttcy,  October  8. 
I  BEgiN  to  count  the  hours  to  Friday.  I  am  very  desirous, 
tbou|^  not  anxious,  ito  see  you.  The  Lord  has  been  good  to  me 
in  your  absence  :  the  time  has  not  seemed  tedious,  and  all  things 
at  home  and  abrftd,  as  well  as  I  could  wish.  I  begin  to  write 
to-night,  becauseit  have  devoted  to-morrow  to.be  spent  with  as 
little  interruption  as  possible,  as  a  day  of  prayer,  to  entreat  him 
to  give  us  a  happy  and  sanctified  meeting,  and  that  our  future  lives 
my  be  devoted  to  him.  How  great  are  our  obligations  for  uniting 
us  at  first ;  for  restoring  us  so  often  ;  or  raising  you  up  from  so 
many  illnesses ;  for  preserving  our  afiection  ;  for  over-ruling  our 
concerns  ;  for  providing  us  friends  ;  and,  especially,  for  direct- 
ing our  hearts  to  seek  his  face.  And  still  he  is  loading  us  with 
his  benefits.  Though  we  have  not  been  without  our  trials,  yet, 
all  things  considered,  who  has  passed  more  gently  through  life 
thus  far  f  And  witli  whom,  upon  the  face  of  the- earth,  could  we 
be  now  content  to  change  ?  But  with  nothing  has  my  heart  been 
more  affected,  than  with  his  goodness  in  and  since  your  late  ill- 
ness. I  am  persuaded  something  passed  then,  that  has  left  a  rel- 
ish and  effect  upon  your  mind  ever  since.  Is  it  not  so  ?  Are 
you  not  determined  to  be  his  ?  Next  to  the  salvation  of  my  own 
soul,  I  have  had  no  desire  so  often  in  my  heart,  so  often  in  my 
lips,  as  to  see  you  wholly  given  up  to  him  f  And,  I  trust,  he  has 
been  answering  my  prayers,  my  many  thousand  prayers,  from 


WHILS   EB9IDENT   AT  OLMST.  13$ 

year  to  year.  What  a  banble,  in  my  eye,  would  the  possession 
of  the  whole  earth  be,  in  comparison  with  our  being  fellow-heirs 
of  the  hope  of  eternal  life. 

I  purpose  to  be  in  time  to  receive  you  at  Newport.  Perhaps 
I  may  wait  at  Mr.  R****'s,  as  be  lives  opposite  to  the  ion  gate. 
But  when  I  hear  the  sound  of  the  coach,  1  shall  take  my  leave 
with  very  little  ceremony.  You  never  were  more  welcome  to  me 
in  your  whole  life,  than  you  will  be  this  time. 


1768. 


Olney,  April  5. 

I  HOPE  thj^  will  be  the  more  welcome  for  being  unexpected. 
May  it  find*you  in  health  and  peace,  panting  after  communion 
with  God. 

I  think  of  you  all  day  ;  and  though  I  do  not  seem  quite  so 
much  at  a  loss  when  you  are  from  me  as  I  have  sometimes  for- 
merly been,  I  am  sure  it  is  not  because  I  love  you  less.  The 
Lord  has  given  us  a  sufficiency  of  mutual  affection,  which  has 
been  strengthened  by  a  long  series  of  endearments  and  kind  offi- 
ces, and  by  a  near  participation  in  the  comforts  and  trials' of  life. 
And  now  it  should  be  our  great  concern  and  prayer,  that  our  love 
may  not  be  inordinate,  or  irregular  ;  nor  interfere  with  what  we 
owe  to  the  great  Lover  of  our  souls.  The  apostle's  question, 
*'  Was  Paul  crucified  for  you  ?"  suggests  a  thought  which  dis- 
parages all  creature-regard,  as  the  splendour  of  the  noon-day  sun 
overpowers  the  twinkling  of  the  stars. 

May  the  Lord  open  your  ears  and  your  heart,  that  you  may 
receive  profit  where  you  are.  Do  not  give  place  to  unbelief. 
Jesus  is  both  an  able  and  a  willing  Saviour.  Pray  for  a  tender 
conscience,  and  a  dependent  spirit.  Watch  against  the  motions 
of  self;  they  are  subtle  and  various.  Let  no  engagements  pre^ 
vent  you  from  reserving  seasons  of  retirement  for  prayer,  and 
reading  the  Scriptures.  The  best  company,  the  best  public  or- 
dinances, «will  not  compensate  for  the  neglect  of  these.  At  the 
same  time,  guard  against  a  spirit  of  bondage  ;  nor  fetter  your 
mind  by  too  many  rules  and  resolves.  It  is  our  privilege  to 
serve  the  Lord  with  cheerfulness ;  not  considering  him  as  a  hard 
master,  but  as  a  tender  father,  who  knows  and  pities  our  weak- 
ness ;  who  is  ready  to  pardon  our  mistakes,  and  to  teach  us  to  / 
do  better.  He  accepts  us,  freely  and*  graciously,  when  we  pre- 
sent ourselves  before  himj,  in  the  name  of  Jesus,  his  beloved  Son, 


166  LBTXBBS  TO  A  WIM^ 

Martham,  April  15. 

We  reached  this  place  to-day,  about  noon,  t  am  very  wellt 
only  much  fatigued.  The  man  you  saw  step  into  the  coach,  was 
drunk  all  the  way  to  Colchester,  (where  we  leA  him.)  He  swore, 
for  a  time,  almost  at  every  word.  As  soon  as  I  could  find  a  fa- 
vourable opening,  I  spoke  to  him.  He  was  civil,  and  promised  to 
swear  no  more.  But,  poor  man  !  he  might  as  well  have  prom- 
ised not  to  breathe.     However,  he  was  tolerably  quiet  aAerwards. 

My  heart  loves  you,  my  dearest,  and  many  an  ejaculation  I 
breathe  out  for  you  ;  which,  indeed,  is  almost  the  only  kind 
of  prayer  I  have  found  time  or  room  for  since  I  left  London^ 
But  I  hope  to  be  recruited  and  composed  soon.  I  am  likely  to 
have  business  enough  in  hand  next  week.  At  present,  I  am  dry 
and  empty ;  but  the  fountain  from  whence  1  have  be^  often  sup- 
plied, is  still  full  and  flowing.  Excuse  a  short  letter?  If  it  was 
not  to  you,  1  could  not  write  at  all. 


Olney^May  1. 

The  Lord  brought  me  home  in  safety  last  night.  I  believe 
our  dear  people  are  truly  glad  to  see  me ;  and  I  am  sure  I  rejoice 
to  be  with  them  again.  I  preached  this  morning  from  2  Sam. 
vii.  24.  1  wish  my  dearest  a  growing  experience  of  the  subject. 
No  honour  can  be  compared  to  that  of  being  the  Lord's  people  ; 
no  privilege  like  that  of  having  him  for  our  God. 

I  must  not  write  much,  for  it  is  almost  time  to  find  a  text  for 
'the  afternoon,  which  I  have  not  yet  done.  1  went  this  morning 
into  the  pulpit,  as  having  only  a  small  piece  of  bread,  and  offish, 
to  set  before  the  multitude.  But,  through  mercy  it  multiplied  in 
the  distribution,  and,  I  hope',  there  was  a  comfortable  meal  for 
those  who  were  present  and  some  fragments  left  that  will  not  be 
lost. 

It  is  not  choice,  but  necessity,  tiiat  makes  me  sometimes  live,  as 
we  say,  from  hand  to  mouth.  While  my  head  is  foil  of  new  per- 
sons and  places,  I  cannot  do  otherwise.  And  I  have^  reason  to 
be  thankful  that  my  hopes  are  seldom  disappointed  upon  such  oc- 
casions ;  though  I  know  not  when  I  have  been  so  straitened  and 
embarrassed,  as  I  was  the  other  night  at  the  Lock.  I  rather  won- 
der that  this  happens  so  seldom,  than  that  it  happens  at  all.  How 
justly  might  the  Lord  take  his  word  of  truth  out  of  my  unworthy 
mouth !  Perhaps  he  saw  it  good  for  me,  that  Mr.  Self  should 
have  his  comb  cut  rather  there,  than  in  another  place  ;  and  1  hope 
there  is  that  in  me,  which  is  as  willing  to  appear  to  a  disadvau- 


WBIt.K   RftSIDBNT   AT   OLNET.  I6t 

tage  (if  it  mast  be  so)  at  the  Lock  as  at  Obey  :  though,  to  be 
sure,  flesh  and  blood  is  pleased  to  be  thought  somebody^  when 
among  dear  friends  or  fine  folks. 


(Hneyj  May  3. 

I  DUO  not  promise  to  write  to-day,  but  my  heart  is  always  ready 
and  opportunity  always  welcome.  I  am  in  good  health  and  glad 
to  be  again  retired  from  yonder  noisy  city. 

I  wrote  yesterday  to  Mr.  A****,  and,  in  my  evening  walk,  my 
thoughts  and  prayers  turned  much  upon  the  affecting  stroke  he 
has  received.  Indeed,  it  has  been  seldom  out  of  my  mind  since  I 
came  home.  Besides  my  concern  for  his  loss  and  my  own,  (there 
is  no  cause  to  mourn  for  her,)  I  consider  it  as  a  loud  speaking  les* 
son  to  me  and  to  yon.  How  often  has  she  been  raised  up  from  the 
brink  of  the  grave,  in  answer  to  prayer;  and  yet,  now  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly  removed  ?  We  likewise  have  been  long  preser- 
ved, and  often  restored  to  each  other.  But  a  time  will  come  when 
e\ery  gourd  will  wither,  every  cistern  be  broken.  Let  us  pray 
for  a  waiting,  resigned,  and  dependent  frame  of  spirit;  for  abili- 
ty to  commit  ourselves,  and  our  all,  into  the  merciful  hands  of  Him 
who  careth  for  us  ;  and  that,  while  we  are  spared,  -we  may  walk 
together,  as  help-meets  and  fellow-heirs  of  eternal  life.  We  shall 
not  be  parted  a  moment  sooner,  for  living  in  daily  expectation  of 
our  appointed  change ;  but  the  thought  may  be  a  happy  mean  of 
composing  our  minds,  and  of  preventing  us  from  being  too  much 
engrossed,  either  by  the  sweets  or  the  bitters  of  this  transitory  life. 
Many  occasions  of  care  and  perplexity,  that  are  apt  to  waste  our 
time  and  wound  our  peace,  would  be  avoided,  could  we  duly  cott* 
aider  how  soon  we  shall  have  done  with  all  these  things.  May  you, 
may  I,  be  more  rooted  and  grounded  in  the  truth,  more  humbled 
and  comforted,  more  filled  with  that  love,  joy,  and  unspeakable 
peace,  which  the  Gospel  reveals,  and  for  which  the  promises  of 
God  warrant  us  to  pray.  Be  not  discouraged  because  you  have 
nothing  of  your  own.  The  bucket  is  put  into  the  well  emp- 
ty, and  because  it  is  empty,  the  Lord  has  opened  a  well  of  sal- 
vation for  us,  and  bas  promised  that  we  shall  not  seek  his  face 
in  vain. 

I  long  to  have  yon  at  home  with  me ;  for  though  I  am,  in  a 
sense,  very  comfortable,  the  house  looks  unfurnished  without 
yoQ,  and  I  miss  you  in  every  room.  How  then  must  the  MooV" 
9%de  look  to  our  dear  friend  !  Every  step  he  takes,  every  person 
he  meets,  must  remind  him  of  his  loss !  But  I  trust  the  Lord  is. 


168  LCTTSB8  TO  ▲  WITE, 

and  will  be  bis  siipport.  May  his  grace  be  with  us !  Thea  we 
shall  be  equal  to  every  thing  that  can  possibly  befall  us,  and  need 
not  be  afraid  of  evil  tidings* 


02ney,  May  5. 

Your  last  dear  letter  found  me  in  peace,  and,  I  hope  did  me 
good.  It  quickened  my  prayers  and  praises  on  your  behalf.  I 
never  attempt  to  pray  without  putting  up  some  petition  for  your 
spiritual  i^elfare,  nor  without  aiming  at  least,  to  express  my  sense 
of  gratitude  to  the  Lord  for  joining  our  hands  and  hearts.  Your 
affection  and  its  consequences,  are*  continually  upon  my  mind, 
and  I  feel  you  in  almost  every  thought.  I  am  willing  to  hope 
that  I  am,  in  some  degree,  freed  from  the  idolatrous  regard  which 
made  me  place  you  too  long  in  a  light  for  which  I  deserved  to 
forfeit  you  every  day.  But  I  am  sure  my  love  has  suffered  no 
abatement  ;  yea,  I  am  sure  it  has  increased,  from  year  to  year, 
though  I  endeavour  to  hold  you  more  in  subordination  to  Him  to 
whom  I  owe  you,  and  by  whose  blessing  alone  it  is  that  we  have 
found  comfort  in  each  other.  I  trust  the  Lord  had  a  further  de- 
sign than  our  accommodation  in  the  present  life,  in  bringing  us 
together;  even  that  we  might  be  joint  witnesses  and  partakers  of 
his  gracCf  and  fellow-heirs  of  salvation.  Our  earthly  connexion 
must  cease ;  but  an  eternal  union  in  happiness  is  an  important 
prospect  indeed !  Every  things  else,  however  valuable  in  its 
place,  sinks  into  nothing  upon  the  comparison. 

If  youth,  and  health,  and  life,  could  be  prolonged  for  a  thousand 
years,  and  every  moment  of  that  space  be  filled  up  with  the  great- 
est satisfaction  we  can  conceive,  this  seemingly  long  period  must  • 
at  last  terminate  ;  and  when  once  past,  it  would  appear  short  and 
inconsiderable  as  the  eighteen  years  we  have  already  spent  to- 
gether do  at  present.  '  But  if  we  ate  united  in  the  faith  and  hope 
of  the  Gospel,  we  shall  never  part.  Even  that  separation  which 
mtist  take  place  (so  painful  at  times  to  think  of)  will  not  deserve 
the  name  of  parting.  It  will  be  but  like  the  one  coming  down  first 
from  London,  and  the  other  safely  following  in  a  few  days.  And, 
however  flesh  and  blood  may  start  at  the  apprehension,  the  case 
of  Mr.  A****,  and  many  others,  sufficiently  prove  the  Lord's 
faithfulness  to  his  promise,  and  that  he  can  support  those  who 
trust  him,  in  the  most  trying  circumstances.  Let  it,  therefore, 
be  our  chief  concern  to  attain  a  good  hope  that  we  are  his,  and  he 
is  ours,  and  then  we  may  cheerfully  commit  the  rest  to  him.  He 
can  forgive  sin,  impart  grace,  subdue  corruption,  silence  unbe- 
lief, make  us  strong  out  of  weakness,  and  do  more  than  we  can 


WHILE  RSSIDSNT   AT  OLVET.  16f 

either  .ask  or  think.  And  what  he  does  he  does  freely,  without 
money  and  without  price.  He  does  not  require  us  to  help  our- 
selves, t>efore  we  apply  to  him,,  but  to  come  to  him  for  help,  and 
we  shall  not  come  m  vain.  Fight,  therefore,  my  dearest,  against 
unbelief,  and  the  Lord  will  ^ve  you  the  victory.  Tell  him,  what 
I  am  sure  you  are  convinced  of,  that  you  have  nothing,  deserve 
nothing,  can  do  nothing  ;  but  that  you  have  heard  he  is  mighty  to 
save,  and  has  promised,  that  none  who  appl^  to  him  shall  in  any* 
wise  be  cast  out.  None  ever  did  miscarry  m  this  way.  If  they 
did,  his  truth  and  faithfulness  must  miscarry  with  them. 


(Hney^  May  15. 

I  HOPE  your  visit  in  Kent  will,  upon  a  review,  be  made  profit- 
able to  yourself.  You  will  admire  the  Loin's  goodness  in  selec* 
ting  you  (as  one  of  a  thousand)  to  the  knowledge  of  his  truth,  when 
you  might  (according  to  the  views  with  which  you  first  entered 
upon  liie)  have  been  slill  swimming  down  the  stream  of  vanity 
and  folly  with  the  multitude.  How  little  did  either  of  us  think,  in 
those  early  days  when  I  first  knew  you,  to  what  the  Lord  designed 
to  lead  us  !  Do  not  ^ou  see,  and  say,  He  has  done  great  thina|  ? 
How  often  has  he  raised  you  from  the  gates  of  death  ?  With  wnat 
mercies  and  gentleness  has  he  followed  you  ?  What  a  great  ad- 
vantage has  he  afforded  you,  in  so  large  an  acquaintance  and  inti- 
macy with  those  who  fear  and  love  nim  !  Shall  the  enemy  urge 
you  to  draw  discouragements  from  these  multiplied  instances  of 
the  Lord's  goodness  ?  I  hope  not.  .  Do  not  give  way  to  unbelief. 
Do  not  indulge  perplexing  thoughts  of  the  secret  counsels  of  God. 
What  is  revealed  in  the  Scripture  calls  for  our  attention  ;  and 
there  it  is  written,  as  with  a  sunbeam,  "  They  that  seek  shall 
find.''  It  is  true,  when  we  are  seeking,  he  often  exercises  our 
patience  ;  but  he  has  told  us  before-hand  to  expect  it,  and  has 
given  us  encouragement,  by  parables,  examples,  and  promises, 
to  continue  praying,  and  not  to  faint.  Though  he  tarry,  wait  for 
him.  Though  he  may  seem  to  treat  you  like  the  woman  of  Ca- 
naan for  a  time,  yet  he  is  full  of  compassion  and  mercy.  The 
humble  spirit,  the  principle  of  faith,  the  heart-felt  repentance,  and 
every  other  gracious  disposition  to  which  the  promises  arc  made, 
are  all  his  gifts,  which  he  bestows  freely  on  the  unworthy. 

Since  you  know  that  you  are  a  sinner,  and  that  he  is  the  only 
Saviour,  what  should  prevent  your  comfort  ?  Had  he  bid'you  do 
some  great  thing,  you  would  at  least  have  attempted  it.  If  a  pil- 
grimage to  some  distant  place  was  the  appointed  mean  of  salva- 
tion, would  you  be  content  to  sit  at  home  and  perish  ?  How  much 

Vol.  IV.  .  23 


170  LBTTERS    TO  A  WirE, 

rather,  then,  should  you  keep  close  to  the  throne  of  grace,  when 
he  has  only  said,  ^^  Ask,  and  you  shall  receive  !'' 

When  we  first  joined  hands,  neither  you  nor  I  knew  much  of 
the  things  pertaining  to  our  peace.    But  as  soon'  as  the  Lord  be-* 

Sin  to  show  me  a  uttle  of  the  way,  how  much,  from  that  time  to 
is,  you  have  been  upon  my  heart,  is  only  known  to  him  :  and  I 
trust  he  has  answered,  and  is  still  answering,  my  prayers.  What 
passed  in  your  last  illness  I  shall  never  forget.  I  think,  had  he  then 
taken  you  from  me,  I  c6uld  have  rejoiced  in  my  grief.  From  that 
period  I  have  had  a  hope  of  more  value  to  me  than  the  possession 
of  the  earth,  that  he  has  taken  a  sure  hold  of  your  heart,  and  that 
he  will  not  cease  to  draw  you  nearer  and  nearer  to  himself.  Con- 
tmue  to  pray,  and  watch  over  your  spirit.  Keep  always  in  mind 
that  you  are  a  sinner,  and  Jesus  is  a  Saviour  of  sinners.  Such 
thoughts  fireouently  recurred  to,  are  means  by  which  the  Lord 
composes  ana  sanctifies  the  frame  of  our  tempers,  and  the  strain  of 
our  conversation.  Accept  this  little  homily  in  good  part,  and  may 
-a  blessing  attend  you  in  the  perusal. 


1769. 


Olney^  May  18. 

I  PREACHED  yesterday  at  CoUingtree.  The  church  was  full. 
Returned  in  safety  before  nine  in  the  evening. 

The  case  of  those  who  decline  from  the  good  way,  after  they 
seem  to  have  chosen  it,  is  lamentable.  Thus  it  might  have  been 
mth  us  ;  but  thus  I  trust  it  shall  not  be.  The  Lord  has  made 
known  to  us  his  name  of  love,  and  has  shown  us,  what  we  should 
never  have  seen,  had  it  be^h  his  pleasure  to  kill  us.  Let  us  live 
under  abiding  views  of  the  all-sufficiency  of  Jesus  the  Saviour,  and 
we  may  rejoice  in  hope.  The  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  un- 
derstanding, is  seldom  attained,  but  through  a  course  of  conflict. 
God  ^ve  Canaan  to  Israel  by  promise,  and  put  them  in  posses- 
sion, oy  the  power  of  his  own  arm,  yet  they  must  fight  for  every 
inch  of  ground.  The  desire  and  the  accomplishment,  are  equally 
of  grace ;  yet,  in  the  use  of  means,  and  with  our  eye  to  him,  wc 
must  strive.  Our  poor  exertions  would  be  in  vain,  if  he  did  not 
Vequire  them  ;  but  now  they  are  needful,  and  shall  be  successful. 
The  r«d  of  Moses,  the  instrument  of  performing  so  many  miracles, 
was  no  better  than  common  wood,  till  the  appoinUnent  of  God 
gave  it  a  wonderful  virtue.  Had  Moses  then  refused,  or  neglec* 
ted,  to  use  it,  he  could  have  done  nothing.  Now  the  means  of 
grace,  especially  prayer,  may  be  compared  to  the  rod  of  Moses* 


WHILE  RBSIDBNT  AT  OLNBY.  171 

If  we  gQ  on,  with  this  rod  in  our  hands  ;  if  we  call  upon  God,  me- 
ditate upon  his  promises,  and  plead  them  from  day  to  day  he  will 
make  our  way  prosperous. 


Olneifi  May  S8. 
The  Lord  has  mercifully  brought  me  home  in  peace.  The 
fatigue  of  the  journey  and  the  excessive  heat  on  Tuesday,  occa- 
sioned a  slight  fever,  which  went  off  that  evening,  and  returned 
yesterday,  as  I  was  taking  horse  at  Bicester.  However,  I  rode, 
not  unpleasantly,  to  Buckmgham,  and  there,  for  fear  of  overdoing, 
we  took  a  post-chaise  to  Stratford,  where  Mrs.  U****  kindly  met 
us,  and  brought  us  home.  I  have  since  taken  the  bark,  and  all  the 
usual  steps  observed /m  intermittents.  Preached  without  pain  on 
Sunday.  The  fever  is  now  gone ,  my  appetite  returned,  and  1  am 
well.  My  slight  illness  was  rather  a  baulk  and  hindrance  with  re- 
spect to  my  friends  at  Oxford  and  Sutton.  But,  taking  all  things 
together,  1  never  had  a  more  comfortable  iourney.  I  felt  such  a 
peace  and  composure,  in  considering  myself  and  all  my  concerns 
m  the  hand  of  the  Lord,  as  I  cannot  describe,  and  can  seldom  at- 
tain when  in  health.  I  had  not  one  impatient  or  anxious  thought, 
not  even  about  you  ;  and  seemed  guite  willifig,  if  the  Lord  had  so 
pleased,  to  have  died  upon  the  roaa.  I  was,  yesterday,  if  ever  ia 
*  my  life,  as  a  weaned  child.  I  hope  this  account  of  my  indisposi- 
*tion  will  not  hurry  you  home  sooner  than  you  intended,  for  t  am 
quite  recovered. 


Olney^  May  SO. 

My  thoughts  will  accompany  you  to  Wimbledon  to-day.  Give 
my  affectionate  respects  to  our  dear  friends,  and  tell  them,  I  should 
have  had  much  pleasure  in  being  of  the  party.  Besides  the  chief 
inducement  of  their  comnany,  I  am  fond  of  the  place,  and  should 
promise  myself  some  pleasant  hours  in  the  walks.  But  I  know 
neither  places  nor  company  can  communicate  any  real  good^  un- 
less the  Lord  be  present.  And  when  he  is  near,  any  place,  and 
even  solitude  itself,  is  agreeable,  it  is  my  mercy  to  and  that  in 
Olney  which  contents  and  satisfies  me. 

I  have  such  a  levee  of  kind  inquirers  every  morning,  that  I  an 
much  interrupted  in  writing.  It  is  pleasing  to  be  beloved,  and 
doubly  pleasing  to  me  to  know,  that  the  favour  the  Lord  has  givea 
me  here,  is  chiefly  on  account  of  the  Gospel  which  I  preach.  The 
affection  that  is  built  upon  this  foundation  will  endure  for  ever,  and 
will  flourish  when  every  other  tie  shall  cease ;  and  thuS|  I  trust,  it 


172  LETTERS   TO  A   WIFE, 

is  between  my  dearest  M***  and  me.  How  closely  has  the  Lord 
united  us^  by  marriage,  by  affection,  by  the  strongest  and  most 
endearing  obligations  !  But  all  these  respect  the  present  life,  and 
must  terminate  with  it.  But  I  trust  there  is  a  still  nearer  relation 
between  us,  in  the  Lord  and  in  his  truth,  which  shall  subsist  to 
eternity.  In  the  mean  time,  may  he  eive  us  to  know  more  of  the 
power  and  comfort  of  it,  while  we  walk  together  here  below  ;  that 
we  may  rejoice  in  the  knowledge  of  what  he  has  done  already, 
and  in  the  prospect  of  what  he  has  provided  for  us  hereafter*  Be- 
lieve, my  Clearest,  and  you  shall  be  established.  Pray,  and  vour 
faith  shall  be  confirmed.  Resist  the  devil  with  the  sword  of  the 
Spirit,  the  good  word  of  God,  and  he  shall  flee  from  you.  Draw 
night  to  God,  and  he  will  draw  nigh  to  you.  I  know  your  discour- 
agements ;  but  they  are  not  peculiar  to  yourself.  Surely,  he  has 
appeared  for  you  in  times  past,  and  1  cannot  doubt  but  he  will 
Again. 

I  am  glad  to  think  the  time  of  your  return  draws  nigh.  I  ml^s 
you  every  dav  and  hour ;  yet  1  cannot  say  that  time  is  burden- 
some, or  that  I  am  very  dull,  or  unkedj  as  they  call  it  here,  in  your 
absence ;  as  the  people  think  1  must  be.  Several  of  them  almost 
threatened  to  write  on  Sunday,  to  tell  you  how  ill  1  was,  and  to 
beg  you  to  return  immediately  ;  but  their  fears  magnified  the  case. 
They  long  to  see  youj  however,  for  your  own  sake,  and  give  the 
mjost  simple  and  affecting  proofs  that  they  love  you  dearly. 


1770. 


Olneifj  May  20. 
I  HAVE  had  a  morning  walk,  in  which  I  was  favoured  with  some 
liberty ;  at  such  seasons  you  are  always  remembered.  While  f 
would  praise  God  that  we  have  been  so  long  and  so  comfortabljT 
spared  to  each  other,  I  must  not  forget  that  an  hour  of  separation 
must  come,  and  that  the  time  is  uncertain.  It  must  be  so  ;  and  it 
is  well.  Surely  we  could  not  wish  to  live  always  here  !  Oh  for  a 
clearer  view  of  our  interest  in  the  love  and  all-sufficiency  of  the 
Saviour  ;  that  we  may  stay  our  souls  upon  him,  and  possess  a  sta- 
ble, unshaken  peace !  It  is  He  who  has  given  us  a  desire  to  seek 
him,  because  He  has  purposed  to  be  found  of  us,  Jer.  xxxi.  3. 
And,  though  our  desires  are  too  faint,  and  disproportionate  to  the 

S'eatness  of  tlieir  object,  he  will  not  despise  the  day  of  small 
ings,  nor  quench  the  smoking  flax. 

I  feel  your  absence,  and  long  for  your  return  ;  but  I  am  not  dis- 
consolate. It  was  otherwise  with  me  once.  I  can  remember 
when  the  sun  seemed  to  shine  in  vain,  and  the  whole  creation 


WBILC   &B8I0ENT   AT   OLN£T.  173 

appeared  as  a  blank,  if  you  were  firom  me.  Not  that  I  love  you 
less.  The  iotercoiirse  of  maoy  saccessive  years  has  endeared 
you  more  and  more  to  my  heart.  But  I  hope  the  Lord  has  weak- 
ened that  idolatrous  disposition,  for  which  I  have  so  often  deserv- 
ed to  lose  you.  I  am  astonished  at  his  patience  and  forbearance, 
that  when  I  presumptuously  gave  yoa  that  place  in  my  heart 
which  WAS  due  only  to  Him,  He  did  not  tear  my  idol  from  me  ! 
To  what  dangers  has  my  ill-conducted  regard  often  exposed 
yon !  But  he  is  God,  and  not  man.  I  hope  it  is  now  my  desire 
to  hold  nothing  in  competition  with  Him,  and  to  intrust  my  all 
to  his  keeping  and  disposal.  If  we  hold  each  other  in  a  proper 
submission  and  subordination  to  Him,  he  will  bless  us,  and  make 
us  mutually  comforts  and  helpmates.  He  will  sanctify  the  bitter 
4>f  life,  and  give  the  sweet  a  double  sweetness.  His  blessing  is  the 
one  thing  needful ;  without  it,  there  is  neither  security  for  what 
we  profess,  nor  true  satisfaction  in  the  possession.  We  have  no 
good  in,  or  out  of  ourselves,  or  which  we  can  impart  to  another. 
We  may  pity  but  we  cannot  relieve  each  other  when  in  trouble. 
We  cannot  remove  one  pain,  or  give  one  moment's  peace  of  mind 
to  those  whom  we  best  love. 

Many  prayers  are,  and  will  be  put  up  for  you  and  Mrs.  U**** 
while  you  are  away.  It  is  this  endears  OIney  to  me.  The  Lord 
has  a  praying  people  here,  and  they  pray  for  us.  To  be  interes- 
ted in  the  simple,  affectionate,  and  earnest  prayers  of  such  a  peo- 
ple, is  a  privilege  of  more  value  than  the  wealth  of  kings.  In 
answer  to  their  prayers,  the  Lord  has  placed  a  hedge  about  all 
our  concerns,  blessed  our  going  out  and  coming  in,  and  preserved 
us  and  ours  in  health,  when  sickness  or  death  have  been  in  al- 
most every  house  around  as.  And,  doubtless,  I  am  much  indebt- 
ed to  their  prayers,  that  with  such  a  heart  as  mine,  and  such  a 
frame  of  spirit  as  I  frequently  mourn  under,  I  am  still  favoured 
#ithsome  liberty,  acceptance^  .and  usefulness  in  my  ministry. 


1771. 


London,  JN'ov,  19. 
We  came  safely  to  town  about  noon.  I  have  just  parted  with 
my  dear  and  honoured  friend,  with  whom  the  hours  of  the  jour^ 
ney  passed  very  pleasantly.  I  am  wondering  kt  myself,  ^and  at 
every  body  about  me.  It  seems  strange  to  think  of  being  so  sud- 
denly whirled  away  from  you.  So  many  preaching  and  other  en- 
gagements are  provided  for  me,  that  I  believe  I  cannot  return  be* 
fore  Saturday.    1  hope  the  Lord  will  be  with  you,  and  that  you 


174  LSTTBES   TO  Jl  ifHWZf 

will  be  led  earnestly  to  seek  a  blesdng  for  me  aod  for  yotirself. 
I  have  breathed  out  maoy  a  prayer  for  you  since  I  saw  you,  and 
hope  to  do  so  while  I  can  breathe  at  ail.  May  He  pve  us  to  grow 
daily  in  the  knowledge  of  his  grace,  and  to  rejoice  in  the  views  of 
his  excellency,  and  of  our  interest  in  him  as  our  God  and  Savioar» 
This  is  the  one  thing  ;  and  the  only  thing  which  is  promised  ab- 
solutely, and  without  a  possibility  of  failure,  to  those  wJio  desire 
it.  Every  thing  else  is  vain,  uncertain,  and  changeable.  But 
be  Will  surely,  though  gradually,  make  himself  known  to  the 
heart  that  seeks  Him. 

I  have  been  with  Mrs*  C^***  ;  she  is  sorely  afflicted,  but  ap- 
pears to  be  in  an  humble,  dependent  frame.  From  how  many  heart- 
rending distresses,  by  which  others  are  sufiering,  has  the  good 
providence  of  God  preserved  us !  May  He  make  us  thankful  for 
the  exemption,  and  teach  us  to  bear  our  smaller  crosses  with  a  be- 
coming submission  to  his  will ! 


1772. 


Claphamj  July  2. 

If  it  was  not  to  my  dearest  M^**,  I  could  not  write  so  soon  af- 
ter dinner.  But  though  my  belly  is  full,  and  my  head  empty, 
I  roust  tell  you  that  I  had  very  quiet,  agreeable  company  in  the 
coach,  and  a  pleasant  ride  to  Deptford ;  where  I  mounted  a  horse 
my  dear  Mr.  T****  had  sent  for  me,  which  said  horse  brought 
me  safely  hither.  Thus  the  Lord  graciously  preserves  me  from 
place  to  place. 

I  am  always  a  little  awkward  without  you,  and  every  room 
where  you  are  not  present  looks  unfurnished.  It  is  not  an  hum- 
ble servant  who  says  this,  but  a  husband, — and  he  says  it,  not  in 
what  is  called  the  honey-moon,  but  in  the  twenty-third  year  after 
marriage.  Nor  do  I  speak  it  to  my  own  praise,  but  to  the  praise 
of  our  good  Lord,  who,  by  his  blessing,  has  endeared  us  to  each 
other.  Inconstancy  and  vanity  are  inherent  in  our  fallen  nature ; 
and,  if  left  to  ourselves,  we  might  have  been  indifferent,  weary, 
and  disgusted  long  ago*  But  He  has  united  our  hearts ;  and,  I 
trust,  the  union  shall  subsist  to  eternity.  May  we  possess,  while 
here,  the  peace  which  passeth  understanding,  and  live  under  the 
abiding  expectation  of  perfect  happiness  hereafter. 


WBILX  EKdlI»BHT  AT  OLNZT.  175 

Olneyj  July  9. 

I  HATB  not  much  news  to  tell  you*  I  have  been  to  see  Mrs. 
{l«#*#^  You  remember  how  near  death  she  was,  by  falling  into 
Ibe  water,  about  a  fortnight  ago.  She  Was  since  persuaded  to 
take  the  air,  in  a  one-horse  chaise*  They  were  hardly  half  a 
nlile  from  the  house,  when  the  horse  suddenly  fell,  upon  a  smooth 
road,  and  by  the  shock  she  was  thrown  out  of  the  chaise,  over  the 
wheel.  You  will  not  wonder  that  she  was  much  hurt  and  bruised, 
if  yon  consider  her  weight.  No  bones  were  broken ;  but  the  fall, 
in  addition,  to  her  previous  illness,  has  brought  her  very  low,  and 
I  think  she  cannot  continue  long.  What  thanks  do  we  owe  to 
the  Lord  for  his  merciful  care  of  us  in  all  our  journeys,  when  oth- 
ers meet  with  such  disasters  close  to  their  own  home  ! 

The  state  of  some  of  our  family  where  you  are  is  much  upon 
roy  mind.  I  hope  I  have  engaged  many  to  pray  for  them.  The 
Lord  grant  that  all  you  see,  hear,  and  feel  where  you  are,  may 
draw  your  heart  still  nearer  to  himself!  What  is  all  below  but 
vanity  f  There  is  no  solid  comfort  no  abiding  peace,  but  what 
we  derive  from  above.  Once  we  knew  nothing  of  this.  But  the 
Lord  directed  our  path  in  life,  in  subservience  to  the  designs  of 
his  gi*ace.  How  few  of  those  with  whom  you  were  acquainted 
in  your  early  years,  have  any  right  knowledge  of  God  or  of  them- 
selves. We  set  out  upon  this  plan  ;  and  if  mercy  had  not  stop* 
ped  us,  we  should  have  gone  on  till  we  had  perished  with  a  lie  in 
our  right  hands.  Do,  my  dearest,  take  encouragement  from 
what  the  Lord  has  done,  to  believe  that  he  will  do  still  more 
for  you.  Do  not  think  that  he  has  opened  3'our  eyes,  and  taught 
you  that  your  help  is  in  Him  alone,  only  to  disappoint  you.  The 
enemy  would  keep  you  from  seeking  him  diligently  and  constant- 
ly, and  would  persuade  yon  that  you  get  little  or  no  good  from 
idl  your  attempts  ;  but  believe  him  not.  Rather  believe  the  word 
of  promise — that  though  he  may  seem  to  delay,  he  will  not,  he 
cannot  deny  those  who  persevere  in  asking  in  the  name  of  Jesus. 
Thus  much  till  the  post  comes  in. 

How  little  do  I  know  of  my  own  heart !  While  I  thought  my- 
self sure  of  a  letter,  I  vainly  supposed  I  could  be  easy,  though  I 
should  not  receive  one.  But  when  the  post  arrived  and  brought 
no  letter  from  you,  my  spirits  sunk  in  a  minute  :  and,  I  fear,  I 
shall  be  too  impatient  in  wishing  for  Friday.  Surely  my  dear 
M***  knows  me  too  well  to  think  that,  after  a  whole  week's  ab- 
sence, I  should  not  be  longing  to  hear  from  her.  If  you  inadver- 
tently neglected  to  write,  I  must  gently  blame  you  :  it  ought,  in- 
deed, to  be  very  gently,  as  it  is  the  first  fault  of  the  kind  I  can 
charge  you  with  since  our  happy  marriage.    I  rather  think  you 


176  LETTERS   TO   A  WIFE, 

have  writen,  but  by  some  mistake  the  letter  has  missed  ;  for  I  am 
williDg  to  hope  you  are  well.  I  am  quite  disconcerted.  But  if  I 
receive  one  by  the  next  post,  you  need  be  in  no  pain  for  me,  for 
'  that  will  set  all  to  rights.  I  have  been  to  bury  a  corpse  at  Wes- 
ton this  evening.  I  promised  myseH  a  pleasant  walk,  but  the 
want  of  a  letter  spoiled  it.  I  would  fain  have  directed  my  thoughts 
to  subjects  of  more  importance,  but  I  could  not.  Alas  !  I  am  a 
poor  creature.  Pray,  my  dearest,  write  oflen  ;  for,  next  to  your 
company,  I  prixe  your  letters  above  any  thing,  merely  temporal 
that  this  earth  can  afford. 


Olnty^  July  12. 

I  WAITED  about  the  street  yesterday,  till  it  was  time  to  go  to 
Orchard  side,  and  then  deputed  Molly  to  supply  my  place.  At 
half  past  four  the  horn  sounded,  and  my  heart  went  pit-a-pat. 
But  I  soon  saw  Molly  pass  the  window,  and  by  her  looks  and  her 
speed,  I  guessed  she  had  a  letter.  I  snatched  it  from  her  and 
read  it,  and  was  presently  well. 

My  heart  was  melted  the  other  day,  when  I  found  the  little 
book  in  your  drawer  in  which  you  had  begun  to  set  down  such 
texts  of  Scripture  as  had  more  particularly  engaged  your  notice, 
and  especially  when  I  read  the  two  pages  of  prayer  with  which 
you  had  prefaced  them ;  a  prayer  agreeable  to  the  promises  of 
God,  and,  I  trust,  dictated  to  you  by  his  Holy  Spirit.  My  soul 
gave  a  hearty  Amen  to  every  petition.  I  am  sorry  that  any  thing 
prevented  you  from  proceeding  in  what  was  so  well  begun  ;  but 
I  hope  you  will  resume  it  when  you  return.  The  blessings  of 
the  Gospel  are  open  to  you.  Could  you  steadily  strive  against 
the  hindrances  and  discouragements  thrown  in  your  way,  and 
simply  and  patiently  abide  in  the  use  of  the  means  of  grace  with- 
out giving  way  to  vain  reasonings,  you  would  soon  experience  a 
growth  in  peace  and  comfort.  To  patient  faith  the  prize  is  sure, 
may  the  Lord  help  you  thus  to  wait ;  and  may  he  give  us  more 
freedom  to  converse  for  our  mutual  encouragement.  I  am  a 
strange,  inconsistent  creature  in  this  respect,  as  in  many  others. 
Next  to  the  salvation  of  my  own  soul,  there  is  nothing  lies  so  near 
my  heart  as  your  spiritual  welfare  ;  and  yet  I  am  often  tongue- 
tied,  and  can  speak  more  readily  to  any  body  than  to  you.  Let 
'  us  mutually  endeavour  to  break  through  every  restraint,  that  we 
may  be  helpmates  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word.  I  preached 
this  morning  from  Deut.  xxxii.  10.  The  passage  applies  to  all 
the  Lord's  people,  '*  He  found  them  in  a  waste  howling  wilder- 
ness."    How  emphatically  does  it  apply  to  me  ?     He  redeemed 


WHILE   RESIDENT   AT   OLNEY.  ITT 

me  from  the  house  of  bondage  in  Africa,  and  has  selected  me  as 
a  pattern  of  his  grace  to  the  chief  of  sinners.  What  a  mercy  to  me 
I  trust  to  you  also.  For  he  appointed  us  for  each  other  from  the 
first,  and  his  hand  brought  us  together,  and  into  our  present  sit* 
uation  by  a  train  of  miracles. 


1113. 


London^  ^oveniler  18. 

Past  three  o'clock,  and  a  cloudy  morning.  So  says  the 
watchman.  I  hope  my  dearest  is  now  in  a  sweet  sleep.  When  I 
have  done  writing,  I  sliall  proceed  to  the  coach,  which  sets  off  ex«* 
actly  at  four.  Pray  do  not  fear  my  being  robbed  or  hurt  in  th? 
dark.  For  I  expect  a  guard  will  go  with  me,  One  to  whom  "  th^ 
darkness  and  the  light  are  both  alike."  I  went  through  a  very 
long  davk  lane,  on  Wednesday  evening,  with  my  de^jr  Mr.  Th*** ; 
but  no  one  disturbed  us  for  the  Lord  was  our  preserver. 

You  may  be  sure  that  my  heart  is  codtiaually  with  you.  I 
seldom  pass  many  minutes  without  darting  a  thought  upwards  in 
your  behalf.  The  knowledge  of  your  affection  affords  me  the 
greatest  pleasure  I  can  receive  or  desire,  of  a  temporal  kind. 
But  your  apprehensions  on  my  account,  when  I  am  called  from 
you  for  a  season,  give  me  pain.  I  wish  we  could  both  more  sim* 
ply  intrust  each  other,  without  anxiety,  to  the  Lord's  goodness. 
Surely,  he  delights  in  our  prosperity,  or  else  why  have  we  been 
spared  so  long  ?  or  how  have  we  been  so  mercifully  supported, 
so  seasonably  relieved,  and  enriched  with  so  many  blessings,  from 
year  to  year  ?  May  all  that  we  experience  be  sanctiGed,  to  hum- 
ble us,  and  to  increase  our  dependence  upon  Him  who  is  always 
near  and  willing  to  help  us. 

I  must  go.  I  carry  with  me  from  place  to  place  a  heart  full  of 
an  affectionate  and  gratelbl  sense  of  your  love,  and  of  the  innu- 
merable and  invaluable  mercies  and  comforts  the  Lord  has  given 
me  in  the  relation  I  stand  to  you. 


1774. 


Olney,  April  21. 

1  STif PATHUE  with  you ;  I  already  feel  the  concern  which  you 
will  shortly  feel,  when  you  say  farewell  to  your  sister  and  your 
family.    Methinks,  if  I  could  prevent  it,  you  should  not  have  a 

Vou  IV.  23 


178  LETTERS    TO   A   WtPK, 

moment's  uneasiness,  pain,  or  trial,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end 
of  the  year.  But  how  could  you  then  be  a  partaker  of  that  good 
which  the  Lord  bestows  upon  his  people  through  the  medium  of 
afflictions  ?  I  hope  he  will  give  you  an  entire  resignation  to  his 
will ;  and  that  the  grief  you  and  your  sister  will  feel  at  parting, 
will  be  compensated  by  a  cheerful  hope  of  meeting  again,  perhaps 
more  than  once,  in  this  life  ;  but  if  not  here,  in  a  oetter  world. 
And  when  you  drop  a  tear  at  leaving  your  father,  sister,  aunt,  and 
firiends,  remember  that  you  are  comme  to  a  husband  who  loves 
you  better  than  it  is  possible  any  or  ali  other  friends  can.  You 
will  be  more  welcome  to  me  on  your  return,  than  on  the  happy 
day  which  first  made  you  mine.  How  will  my  eyes  delight  to  see 
you,  my  ears  to  hear  you  sfteak,  and  my  arms  to  enfold  you  ? 

My  text  to  night  is  Psa;  xxxvi.  7,  8.  It  is  a  full  and  gracious 
promise.  The  weak  and  defenceless  shall  be  sheltered  under  the 
wings  of  the  Almighty !  How  does  the  hen  cover  her  brood  with  her 
wings !  If  her  power  was  equal  to  her  will,  nothing  shoukl  hurt 
them.  The  Lord  our  Saviour  makes  use  of  this  ima^e  for  your 
eneouraeement ;  and  his  power,  like  his  compassion,  is  *  infiinite* 
Again,  the  hungry  soul  shall  be  satisfied  with  futncss ;  not  merely 
kept  alive,  but  feasted,  so  that  it  shall  thrive  and  flourish.  Lastly, 
the  miserable  shall  not  only  taste,  but  drink  of  pleasures  ;  not  a 
single  draught,  nor  out  of  a  vessel  that  will  sooji  be  empty,  but 
from  a  river  whose  stream  is  perpetual,  whose  source  is  inex- 
haustible. We  need  not  fear  drinking  a  river  dry.  The  streams 
of  this  river  make'glad  the  city  of  God  upon  earth.  How  much 
more  abundantly  will  it  flow  in  heaven  ?  Here,  then,  is  our  en- 
couragement. Creatures  fail  and  change,  but  the  Lord  is  always 
the  same.  And  he  gives  the  water  of  life  freely,  without  money 
and  without  price,  lie  invites  all  who  hear,  and  receives  all  who 
come. 

The  clock  is  striking  twelve,  therefore  I  wish  you  a  good  night. 
May  the  angels  of  the  Lord,  yea,  the  Lord  of  angels  himself, 
watch  over  your  bed  and  your  sleeping  hours.  My  chamber 
looks  rather  solitary  at  present,  yet,  through  mercy,  I  sleep 
soundly. 


Olney^  April  17. 
I  THANK  you  for  your  letter.  I  do  not  complain  of  its  brevity. 
A  single  line  to  inform  me  of  your  safe  arrival,  would  have  gladr 
dened  my  heart,  and,  I  trust,  have  excited  my  gratitude  to  the 
Lord  our  preserver.  Not  that  I  think  you  in  more  real  danger 
upon  the  road  than  when  at  home ;  for  a  thousand  unthou^ht-of 
dangers  are  always  near  us,  and  our  own  short-sighted  care  is  itt- 


WHILE  R&0IDBKT   AT  OLNfiT.  2^9 

TWiflficient  to  preserve  ourselves,  or  each  other,  for  a  single  mo* 
nient.  Yet  my  foolish  mind  is  prone  to  be  more  solicitous  about 
you  when  you  are  out  of  my  sight.  I  am  conscious  of  many  things 
"which  make  me  wonder  at  the  Lord's  goodness  in  sparing  you  to 
me  so  long ;  and  that  you  have  not  been  oftener,  or  more  heavily, 
stiBicted  for  my  sake.  But  his  thoughts  are  high  above  mine,  as 
the  heavens  are  higher  than  the  earth.  And  it  is  our  mercy  that 
we  are  not  under  the  law,  but  under  grace. 

I  rose  from  my  knees  to  take  my  pen  in  hand,  and  shall  daily 

Eray  for  you  alL  I  trust  the  Loixl  has  given  your  sister  that 
nowledge  of  himself  which  will  make  her  situation  in  Scotland 
agreeable.  The  earth  is  the  Lord's  ^  and  his  servants,  where 
their  lot  is  cast,  have  his  throne  of  grace  always  near  them.  I 
know  not  how  she  may  fere  there  in  point  of  ordinances.  How- 
ever, if  the  Lord  is  {^leased  to  dwell  in  her  .heart  and  in  her  house, 
he  can  make  up  every  defect.  His  Providence,  undoubtedly, 
leads  her  thither;  and  we  can  be  no  where  better  than  in  the  path 
of  duty.  His  blessing  upon  secret  praver  and  the  reading  oi  his 
/word  will  keep  her  soul  alive,  though  the  public  preaching  should 
Dot  be  quite  to  her  wish. 

Though  I  miss  you  continually,  I  am  neither  lonely  nor  dull, 
I  hope  the  Lord  will  ^ve  me  a  heart  to  wait  upon  him,  and  then  I 
shall  do  well  enough  till  you  are  restored  to  me.  I  need  not  wish 
the  time  away  :  it  ilies  amazingly  fast,  and,  alas  !  too  poorly  im- 
proved. These  little  separations  should  engage  us  to  seek  his 
olessing,  that  we  may  be  prepared  for  the  hour  (which  must  come) 
when  one  of  us  must  have  the  trial  of  living  a  while  without  the 
other.  The  Lord,  who  appoints  and  times  all  things  wisely  and 
well,  He  only  knows  which  of  us  will  be  reserved  for  this  painful 
exercise.  But  I  rely  on  his  all-sufficiency  and  faithfulness  to 
make  our  strength  equal  to  our  day.  It  will  require  a  power 
above  our  own  to  support  us  under  either  part  of  the  alternative, 
whether  we  are  called  to  leave  or  to  resign.  But  He  who  sa 
wonderfully  brought  us  together^  and  has  so  mercifully  spared  us 
hitherto,  can  sweeten  what  would  otherwise  be  most  bitter  to  the 
flesh.  If  he  is  pleased  to  shine  upon  us,  all  will  be  well.  His 
presence  can  supply  the  loss  of  the  most  endeared  creature  coiii«> 
ibrts,  asacaodle  may  be  easily  spared  when  the  sun  ii  seen. 


Olfuvj  JlprU  23. 

Vestkrday  I  went  to  see  I^lr.  C^"^**.    I  found  him  in  much 

distress,  and  his  wife  ia  more.    They  took  my  going  very  kindly, 

but  the  coming  of  the  coroner  prevented  my  stay.    The  buricJ 

was  last  nighu    The  ch«rch-yara  was  full  qf  people  5  but  as  the 


IfiO  LETTBAS    TO   A   WIP£, 

hour  was  late,  and  the  parents  broken-hearted,  I  did  not  say  much 
at  the  j?rave.  The  lad  was  in  his  fourteenth  year  ;  was  just  come 
home  from  school ;  and  asked  for  victuals,  but  before  he  got  any, 
.  went  with  the  cart,  which  was  going  for  hay.  His  father  was  cut- 
ting the  hay  at  a  small  distance,  and  seeing  the  boy  get  up  upon 
the  sharps,  he  called  to  him,  but  was  either  not  heara  or  not  re- 
garded* Another  son  drove  the  cart  *,  the  horse  suddenly  took 
fright,  and  the  field  being  full  of  hillocks,  the  cart  was  soon  over* 
turned.  The  boy  fell  under  the  wheel  and  was  instantly  killed. 
He  neither  spoke  nor  stirred.  Mr.  C****  saw  all  that  passed, 
and  was  then  forced  to  be  the  mournful  messenger  of  the  new6  to 
his  Wife.  It  seems,  she  was  wrapped  up  (as  we  say)  in  her  chil- 
dren. I  was  told  that  when  she  heard  of  the  event,  she  flew  out 
of  the  house,  and  ran  a  considerable  way,  she  knew  not  whither, 
before  she  could  be  stopped.  She  had  afterwards  a  long  succes- 
sion of  fits,  and  they  feared  she  would  have,  lost  her  senses.  But 
when  I  saw  her,  she  was  more  composed.  She  seems  to  be  not 
without  a  sens^  of  religion  ;  she  had  been  long  a  hearer  in  the 
lower  meeting,  but  of  late  has  come  more  to  my  church. 

It  is  a  heavy  trial ;  but  the  Lord  can  cause  good  fruits  to  grow 
firom  a  bitter  root.  How  much  praise  do  we  owe  him  for  that  pro- 
tection which  has  covered  us,  as  with  a  shield,  in  all  our  journeys, 
as  well  as  at  home  ?  1  hope  soon  to  have  a  call  to  thank  him, 
for^onducting  you  safely  into  K^nt. 

I  have  been  to  see  Mrs.  C****  again.  It  is  a  pleasant,  retired 
Walk  to  their  house ;  but  it  was  not  pleasant  to  me  this  time.  My 
heart,  alas !  was  dry  as  a  chip,  unsettled  as  a  weathercock. 
However,  I  could  and  did  pray  for  you.  I  hope  she  is  a  good 
Woman.  She  told  me  she  had  often  wished  tnat  some  occasion 
might  bring  me  to  their  house.  But  neither  she  nor  her  husband 
6cmld  tak6  courage  (such  a  formidable  animal,  it  seems,  am  I)  to 
ask  me.  She  is  now  troubled  for  having  wished  I  might  come. 
But  I  hope  the  stroke  may  prove  a  blessihg  to  them  both. 


Olneyj  AprH  26. 
I  THANK  God  I  continue  in  good  health,  and  well  enough  in 
spirits.  But  the  frame  of  my  mind  is  cold,  waiwlering,  and  un- 
pleasant. For  the  most  part,  when  yon  have  been  abroad,  I 
have  been  favoured  with  more  composure,  and  the  hours  have 
passed  More  agreeably  and  profitably,  than  at  present.  But  you 
iieed»ot  wish  yourself  at  home  merely  upon  this  account.  For 
tihe  Lord  alone  can  remove  the  complaint  of  a  dull,  dissipated 
frame.  Your  tenderness  can  ,do  much  for  me,  but  you  cannot  re- 
lieve me  ih  thi^  case.  But  though  I  am  not  as  I  wish  to  be,  I  am 
not  unhappy.  ' 


/ 
WfilLS  BSSIDBITT  AJ  OtVBT.  181 

My  text  to  night,  when  I  lay  my  head  upon  my  pillow,  will  be 
Psalm  xxxiv.  15.  Who  are  the  righteous,  upon  whom  the  eye 
of  th(e  Lord  is  fixed,  and  to  whose  cry  his  ear  is  open  ?  Not  the 
self-righteous — ^but  the  helpless,  unworthy  sinners,  who,  without 
any  plea  but  the  word  of  promise,  put  their  trust  in  the  name  of 
Jesus..  These  are  accounted  righteous  for  the  Saviour's  sake. 
They  are  accepted  in  the  Beloved ;  and,  because  they  ask  in  his 
name,  their  prayer  is  heard*  Why  should  not  we,  my  dearest, 
open  our  mouths  wide,  and  expect  great  things,  when  we  have 
^ch  an  advocate  ?  Da  you  say,  How  shall  I  know  that  He  is 
mine  ?  I  answer.  He  is  an  advocate  for  all  who  will  commit  their 
cause  to  Him.  Thev  are  not  described  by  name,  but  by  charac- 
ter ;  as  sinners  who  have  no  ho|)e  in  themselves,  are  not  willing  to 
perish,  and,  therefore,  hearing  that  he  is  able  and  willing  to  save 
to  the  uttermost^  venture  upon  his  word,  cast  themselves  at  his 
feet,  and  commit  their  all  into  his  hands.  Have  not  I,  and  have 
not  you,  such  thoughts  of  ourselves,  and  ef  Jesus  the  Saviour  ? 
Wait,  then,  for  Him  ;  give  not  way  to  unbelief :  he  can  do  all  that 
he  says,  and  he  says  no  more  than  he  means  to  perform. 


Ofaey,  AprU  30. 

I  rcsL  for  you  every  day  while  you  are  at  Chatham ;  but  I 
hope  and  pray  the  Lord  will  sanctify  all  to  your  profit.  If  it  de- 
pended upon  me,  you  should  have  nothing  to  grieve  you  for  a 
moment ;  but  I  am  glad  our  concerns  are  in  his  wise  and  gracious 
bands,  who  appoints  us  a  mixture  of  afflictions  and  trials,  not  be- 
cause he  takes  pleasure  in  giving  us  pain,  (our  many  (fomforts 
afibrd  sufficient  proofs  of  his  goodness,)  but  because  he  sees  that 
troubles  are  often  better  for  us  than  the  continual  enjoyment  of 
cgir  own  wishes. 

I  am  concerned  to  find  you  so  very  accessible  to  fears  and 
alarms  upon  my  account.  Indeed  I  would  not  exchange  the  af- 
fection which  gives  rise  to  them  for  crowns  and  kingdoms.  But 
why  should  you  make  yourself  unhappy  ?  Why  distrust  the  good 
hand  of  God,  which  has  so  long  preserved  us  ?  why  should  you 
take  the  course  which,  in  the  nature  of  things,  is  most  likely  to 
bring  upon  you  the  evil  Mihich  you  fear  ?  Do  not  you  consider  that 
you  yourself  expose  me  to  the  greatest  danger,  by  your  sinful  dis- 
trust of  the  Lord,  and  your  over-much  dependence  upon  a  poor 
creature,  who  loves  you,  it  is  true,  even  as  his  own  soul ;  but  who, 
with  the  warmest  desires  of  your  happiness,  is,  in  himself,  auite 
anable  to  promote  it ;  unable  to  procure  you  the  smallest  gooa,  or 
to  shield  you  from  the  greatest  trouble*  May  it  please  God  so  to 
impress  abd  fill  your  heart,  that  your  supreme  and  undivided  re* 


182  LETTERS  TO  k    WIFE, 

gard  may  be  fixed  upon  Him  who  alone  is  worthy*  Then  we 
shall  be  happy  in  each  other  indeed,  when  all  our  thoughts  and 
aims  are  properly  subordinate  to  what  we  owe  to  him.  If  we 
ioyed  him  witn  all  our  hearts,  we  should  find  it  easy  to  trust  him 
with  our  concerns.  And  then  it  would  not  greatly  signify  which 
of  us  went  first  to  heayen,  or  by  what  means. 

Let  us,  my  dearest,  pray  for  each  other.  Methinks  we  still 
wander  in  a  wilderness,  upon  the  yery  brink  of  a  happy  state, 
and  yet  cannot  enter.  How  strange,  that  we  who  read  of  such  a 
Saviour,  who  are  acquainted  with  such  promises,  (made  to  the 
most  unworthy,)  and  are  so  fully  convinced  of  the  reality  of  spir- 
itual blessings  ;  how  strange  is  it,  that  we  should  be  thus  alter* 
•  nately  elevated  or  cast  down  by  trifles  !  that  we  should  sit,  like 
Hagar,  lamenting  over  an  empty  vessel,  when  the  fountain  of  life 
runs  so  near  us  !  Keep  this  to  read  to  me,  when  it  may  come  to 
my  turn  to  be  pinched  with  unbelief.  Perhaps  you  will  soon  have 
occasion  to  say,  Physician,  heal  thyself. 

I  have  had  a  pleasant  walk  this  evening,  and  was  enabled  to 
pray  for  you,  that  you  may  gain  a  blessing  upon  all  your  remo- 
vals, and  be  restored  to  me  in  peace.  My  pillow  text  to-night 
will  be  in  Psal.  xxxix.  Suppose  I  take  ver.  8.  <^  Deliver  me 
from  all  my  transgressions,  make  me  not  the  reproach  of  the  fool- 
ish.'' How  rich  is  the  grace  that  has  provided  a  ground  for  so  great 
a  petition  as  is  expressed  in  the  first  clause !  What  arithmetic  can 
compute  the  whole  that  is  included  in  the  word  aU.  One  genera- 
tion would  be  sufficient  to  sink  the  soul  into  ruin.  But  the  blood 
of  Jesus  Christ  frees  those  who  believe  in  him  from  the  guilt  of  all. 
And  his  Spirit  is  [sufficient  to  set  us  at  liberty  from  the  power  of 
^11  sin,  so  that  not  one  shall  have  dominion  over  us.  Yet  the 
supply  of  this  Spirit  is  to  be  sought  by  earnest  prayer;  otherwise, 
notwithstanding  what  we  know,  and  what  we  have  received,  we  are 
liable  to  take  such  steps  as  would  make  us  the  reproach  of  the 
foolish. 

Whenever  you  return,  you  will  be  welcome  to  me,  as  gold  to 
the  miser.  But  I  hope  to  support  the  interval  without  being  bur- 
dened. My  days  are  filled  up  with  employment,  and  at  night  i 
^leep  soundly  ;  so  that  no  part  of  my  time  hangs  upon  my  hands*  ^ 


0/ney,  JUay  2. 
Methinks  I  see  you  jvist  now.  Your  spirits  sink  a  little,  be- 
cause you  are  taking  leave  of  your  sister  and  friends.  I  allow  you 
to  drop  a  tear  or  two.  But  I  hope  to-morrow,  and  before  you 
have  "travelled  many  miles,  you  will  resume  your  cheerfulness, 
and  leave  them  ^nd  yourself  in  the  hand  of  the  Lord  without 


WHILE   RESIDENT  AT  OLN>ET.  18S 

anxietj.  He  fitted  your  sister  for  the  post  be  has  assignedher,  and/ 
I  trasty  he  will  not  only  bless  h^r,  but  make  her  a  blessing  to  many 
around  her.  I  sometimes  think  that  the  child's  lameness  may 
give  soch  a  dtfierent  turn  to  his  future  life,  may  prevent  so  many 
things  that  might  othervvise  have  happened,  and  give  occa* 
sion  to  so  many  things  which  otherwise  would  not  have  happened, 
that,  in  the  way  of  means,  it  may  have  a  near  connexion  with  the 
salvation  of  his  soul.  It  is  good  to  trust  the  Lord,  and  leave  the 
management  of  all  to  him.  He  is  wise.  He  sees  to  the  end  of 
our  path.  We,  poor,  short-sighted  creatures,  cannot  see  an  inch 
before  us,  and  if  left  to  our  own  choice,  should  involve  ourselves 
in  troables  by  the  very  steps  we  sho^  take  to  prevent  them. 

I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  you  are  ^  London,  because  you  will 
then  be  thirty  miles  nearer  to  me.  But  I  remember  when  there 
were  not  only  hills  but  oceans  between  us.  Then  the  Lord 
brought  us  together  in  safety.  It  seems  to  me  now,  almost  as  if 
we  had  been  separated  for  the  time  of  an  African  voyage.  But  I 
wait  with  pa^ence  your  summons  to  meet  you  at  Newport.  I 
would  rather  see  yon  than  all  that  the  world  accounts  magnificent. 
I  had  rather  bear  you  speak,  than  bear  all  Handel's  music.  I 
I  would  rather  call  you  mine,  than  possess  waggon-loads  of  gold. 
Some  persons  would  deem  this  the  language  of  folly ;  but  it  is  the 
language  of  love  and  of  truth. 

It  grows  late.  The  maids  are  gone  to  bed,  and  I  shall  soon  re- 
tire to  mine.  It  is  rather  lonely  at  present ;  but,  I  thank  God, 
I  am  a  stranger  to  the  remotest  wish  that  it  were  lawful  to  me  to 
have  any  companion  but  yourself.  Since  the  Lord  gave  me  the 
desire  of  my  heart  in  my  dearest  M***,  the  rest  of  the  sex  are  no 
more  to  me  than  the  tulips  in  the  garden.  Oh,  what  a  mercy  is 
It,  that  I  can  say  this!  I  speak  it  not  to  my  own  praise,  but  to  the 
praise  of  the  Lord.  I  have  a  vile  heart,  capable  of  every  evil ; 
and,  in  myself,  am  as  prone  to  change  as  a  weathercock.  But, 
with  respect  to  you,  he  has  been  pleased  to  keep  me  fixed,  as  the 
north-pole,  without  one  minute's  variation  for  twenty-four  years, 
three  months,  and  one  day ;  and  1  humbly  trust,  that  be  wiU  thus 
keep  me  to  the  end  of  my  life. 


OZney,  May  4. 
The  wind  blows  bard  at  N.  E.  so  that  I  suppose  your  brother 
and  sister  are  embarked.  If  they  are,  I  do  not  mean  to  be  very 
uneasy  for  them;  and  I  hope  you  will  not.  The  God  of  the  dry 
land  is  God  of  the  sea  likewise.  He  is  as  near  us  in  a  storm  as 
in  a  ctilm  i  and  we  need  his  protection  no  less  in  a  calm  than  in» 


184  l4CTTfiBS   TQ  A  WlfE, 

'storm.  May  the  Lord  give  to  tbem  and  to  us  1ii&  grace ;  that^ 
looking  to  him,  we  may  be  comforted  under  all  separations  and 
changes,  by  an  assured  hope  of  meeting,  to  unspeakable  advan* 
tage,  in  a  better  world  !  We  are  all  lessening  the  distance  apace  to  . 
our  everlasting  home-..  Our  voyage  through  life  will  sometime* 
be  incommoded  by  storms,  but  the  Lord  Jesus  is  an  infallible,  al- 
mighty pilot.  The  winds  and  the  seas  obey  him.  None  ever 
miscarried  under  his  care ;  and  he  takes  charge  of  all  who  intrust 
themselves  to  him.  Has  he  not  made  us  willing  to  do  so  ?  Then 
we  may  be  sure  he  will  not  disappoint  the  hope  which  he  himself 
has  given  us.  Let  us  make  his  good  word  our  compass  to  dinect 
our  hearts  to  the  haven,  to  the  heaven,  where  we  would  be  ! 

I  need  not  wish  time  aw^;  it  flies  with  an  amazing  swiftness, 
even  in  your  absence.  But  I  hope  it  will  be  better  with  me  when 
you  return.  I  am  not  uncomfortable,  but  I  am  a  little  unsettled.  I 
can  do  more  business  in  two  days  when  you  are  at  home,  than  in 
three  when  you  are  abroad.  For  though  I  sit  many  an  hour  in 
my  study  without  seeing  you,  yet  to  know  that  you  are  in,  or 
about  the  house,  and  that  I  can  see  you  when  1  please,  gives  a 
sort  of  composure  to  my  mind  :  so  that  I  must  not  say  your  com* 
pany  is  a  hinderance  to  me  upon  the  whole ;  thougb  occasionally 
my  attention  to  you  might  make  me  leave  something  undone 
which  I  ought  to  have  done.  In  short,  whether  with  you  or  with- 
out  you,  I  am  a  poor  creature,  and  see  much  to  be  ashamed  of 
every  day,  and  in  every  circumstance 

My  comfort,  and  my  eare, 
My  safety,  and  my  snare, 
You  have  been,  and  you  are ! 

However,  I  have  great  reason  to  bleds  God  that  I  ever  saw  you. 


CHneify  May  9, 
I  AM  very  glad  you  heard  and  approved  Mr.  ♦***,  and  espe^ 
cially  that  you  mean  to  call  upon  him.  I  hope  you  will  pray 
and  strive  against  those  prejudices  which  your  aflfection  for  me, 
and  your  jealousy  lest  any  person  should  not  look  upon  me  with  the 
same  partiality  which  you  do,  have  sometimes  occasioned.  These 
thoughts  have  been  the  greatest  hurt  to  your  spirit,  and  the  great- 
est hinderance  to  yopr  comfortable  progress,  of  any  thing  that  I 
know ;  and  have  sometimes  given  me  no  small  uneasiqes.  I 
cannot  wish  you  to  love  me  less,  but  I  often  wish  you  could  be 
IsH  anxious  «J>oqt  me.    Pray  for  me,  that  I  nay  be  simple,  upp 


WUUUB  Rfi»IBSNT  AT  OLNEY.  185 

right,  and  diligent,  in  my  walk  and  work ;  and  then  you  may 
cheerfully  leave  my  concerqs  with  the  Lord,. and  maybe  asbared 
that  he  will  give  me  as  much  acceptance  and  favour  as  is  good 
for  me.  Be  upon  your  gnard  against  making  yourself,  and  of 
course  me,  uneasy  about  things  which  neither  of  os  can  help  or 
alter.  Temptations  follow  tempers ;  and  Satan  is  always  subtle 
and  busy  in  his  attempts  to  break  oar  peace,  and  divert  our 
thoughts  from  the  main  object.  Though  your  company  is  my 
dearest  and  most  valued  earthly  comfort,  I  shall  be  well  re* 
paid  for  a  month's  absence,  if  you  bring  home  a  desire  to 
watch  and  pray  against  those  wrong  impressions  which  your 
love  to  me  has  sometimes  obtruded  upoa  your  mind.  And  I 
hope  to  study  myself  the  lesson  I  recommend  to  you ;  and  to 
strive  and  pray  for  the  ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit.  But, 
alas  !  though  I  know  in  theory  what  a  Christian  should  be,  I  am 
still  sadly  deficient  in  practice. 

Give  my  love  and  thanks  to  all  my  kind  friends.  I  was  once 
without  a  friend  ;  but  God  has  since  given  roe  many.  Who  that 
had  seen  me  at  the  Plantanes,  would  have  expected  what  has  since 
taken  place  ?  How  unwort^iy  am  I  of  all  that  I  have  ^i^eived  ! 
Very  unworthy  of  being  made  happy  in  you ;  but  above  ail,  un- 
worthy of  the  honour  of  preaching  the  Gospel,  which  I  too  long 
despised  and  blasphemed  ! 

My  evening  walk  was  outwardly  pleasant,  but  my  mind  was 
confused.  However,  1  prayed  for  you.  Let  me  be  as  I  will  in 
other  respects,  you  are  always  present  to  my  thoughts.  My  love 
has  been  growing  from  the  day  of  marriage,  and  still  it  is  in  a 
growing  state.  It  was  once  as  an  acorn,  but  it  has  now  a  deep 
root  and  spreading  branches,  like  an  old  oak.  It  would  not  have 
proved  so  if  the  Lord  bad  not  watered  it  with  his  blessing. 


OZncy,  December 2]. 

As  you  intimate  you  shall  not  come  before  Saturday,  I  wf ite 
again.  I  need  not  wish  the  interval  away,  though  I  long  to  see 
you :  Saturday  will  soon  be  here.  I  thank  the  Lord,  and  I  thank 
you,  for  your  letter.  Indeed,  he  has  been  very  gracious  in  sup- 
porting you  and  your  father,  so  much  beyond  expectation ;  sure* 
ly  my  heart  has  had  a  fellow-feeling  with  you.  But  such  sorrow 
as  he  by  his  grace  is  pleased  to  sanctify,  will  be  hereafter  number- 
ed amongst  our  mercies.  I  often  speak  much,  in  public,  of  his 
all-sufficiency  to  uphold,  under  every  trial.  I  have  seldom  had  a 
more  remarkable  proof  of  it,  than  in  the  course  of  this  late  afflic- 
tion.  May  he  eaableyou  to  improve  this  instance  of  his  goodn^s^ 

Vou  IV.  24 


186  LETTCaS   TO  A  WITE, 

as  an  argument  against  that  vain  reasoning  of  unbelief  wbich  has 
80  often  discouraged,  you.  If  he  had  not  been  with  you,  I  am 
sure  you  would  have  been  crushed  like  a  moth.  I  hope,  when 
we  meet,  we  shall  rejoice  in  his  loving  kindness  ;  and  that  yott 
will  be  able  to  say,  '*  Because  he  has  beard  me,  therefore  I  will 
call  upon  him  as  long  as  I  life." 

May  we  learn  from  what  we  have  felt,  and  from  what  we  daily- 
see,  of  the  vanity  of  all  things  here,  to  fix  oor  thoughts  upon  the 
one  thing  needful ;  that  we  may  experience  his  loving  kindness  to 
be  better  than  life  itself,  and  may  have  a  sore  resource  in  his  love, 
against  the  pressure  of  every  remaining  trial  that  may  be  allotted 
us ;  that  we  may  rejoice  as  those  who  are  still  liable  to  be  called  to 
mourn,  and  mourn  as  those  who  have  a  happy  prospect  of  rejoicing 
for  ever  at  last.  I  thought  on  Monday  morning  that  I  was  praying 
for  you,  while  you  was  stepping  into  the  coach.  But  when  you 
did  set  off  yesterday,  I  was  asleep.  But  the  Shepherd  of  Israel, 
who  neither  slumbers  nor  sleeps,  was  pleased  to  watch  over  you  in 
your  journey ;  for  which  I  desire  to  praise  him.  Sickness  and 
death  have  entered  many  houses  here  since  you  left  home.  But 
we  are  stlH  preserved.  Our  times  are  in  the  hand  of  him  who  car- 
eth  for  us. 

I  have  had  another  peaceful  night,  and  awoke  this  morning  in 
health.  1  hope  you  can  say  the  same.  We  lie  down  and  arise  in 
safety,  because  the  Lord  sustains  us.  Oh !  to  say,  this  God,  this 
great  God,  is  our  God  ;  our  sun,  and  shield,  and  portion  !  What 
a  privilege  is  this  !  What  a  conterbalance  for  every  trial  !  And 
since  he  has  said  to  our  hearts,  **  Seek  ye  my  face,"  and  has  giv- 
en us  a  desire  to  answer,  "  Thy  face,  O  Lord,  will  we  seek,"  it 
is  not  possible  that  we  should  seek  in  vain.  The  Lord  bless  and 
keep  you,  lift  up  the  light  of  his  countenance  upon  you,  and  give 
you  peace.     Amen. 


1776. 


London^  August  26. 
I  MrsT  send  you  a  short  letter  for  once.  May  the  Lord  bless 
you,  give  j'ou  composure  of  mind,  and  do  you  good  every  day.  X 
know  you  will  be  ready  enongh  to  come  to  me  when  yon 
can,  and  therefore  I  leave  the  when  to  you.  I  like  Monday  best, 
because  it  is  nearest ;  but  if  you  stay  till  Tuesday,  I  will  wait  pa- 
tientiy.  But  you  know  I  am  not  quite  the  thing  when  you  ace 
absent.  Methinks  I  would  have  you  always  at  my  elbow.  Give 
my  love  to  my  dear  child,  who,  I  hope  and  believe,  will  be  a  good 


WaiLS  RBSIDSNT   AT  OLNET.  187 

girl.  And  I  beg  of  her^  and  of  all  who  are  about  her,  that  your 
rules,  to  which  she  so  cheerfully  submits  when  at  home,  may  be 
broken  as  little  as  possible.  Tell  all  her  friends  that  I  love  her,  and 
accept  her  as  my  own  t:hiid,  and  shall  account  the  core  of  her  to 
be  one  of  the  most  important  concerns  of  my  life. 


Olney^  November  18. 
1  BEGAN  to  listen  at  four  for  the  sound  of  the  born.  I  listened 
till  five  before  I  heard  it.  Soon  after  I  received  your  dear  letter. 
i/[y  heart  travelled  with  you  from  stage  to  stage,  and  I  set  you 
down  in  the  Old  Jewry,  just  at  the  time  you  mention.  But,  Oh  ! 
what  cause  have  I  to  be  thankful  that  you  were  shielded,  by  the 
Lord's  protection,  from  the  many  possible  events  which  might 
have  spoiled  my  calculations,  and  sent  me  to  bed  to-night  with 
an  aching  heart.  1  hope  you  are  now  at  Chatham.  I  have  put 
you  into  the  Lord's  hand,  who  I  trust  will  do  you  good.  Yet 
I  cannot  help  being  anxious  till  i  know  how  you  felt,  and  what 
you  met  with  upon  your  arrival.  If  your  dear  father  be  still  liv- 
ing, give  my  love  and  duty  to  him,  and  assure  him  th^t  he  is  al- 
ways in  my  thoughts  and  prayers.  May  the  Lord  suppoH  yon, 
and  keep  up  your  spirits,  by  a  sense  of  his  power  and  goodness  ! 


Olneifj  November  21. 

I  TOLD  the  people,  on  Saturday  evening,  my  good  news,  and 
read  your  father's  letter.  Both  he  and  you  were  earnestly  prayed 
for.  But  I  suppose  more  than  a  hundred  were  detained  from  us 
by  colds  and  illness.  There  is  scarcely  a  house  without  some 
person  ill  in  it,  and  the  general  word  is,  that  they  never  bad  such 
a  sort  of  cold  before.  Many  have  taken  to  their  beds ;  but  in  a 
few  days  most  of  them  begin  to  amend. 

W.  and  R.  B****  sent  me  word,  that  their  little  girl  was  dying, 
and  I  have  since  heard  she  is  dead.  J  expect  to  find  them  in 
much  trouble.  Thus,  at  one  time  or  another,  every  family  and 
every  person  finds  vanity  entwined  with  their  choicest  comforts. 
It  is  best  for  us  that  it  is  so.  For,  poor  and  vain  as  this  life 
is,  we  are  sufficiently  attached  to  it.  How  strong,  then,  would 
our  attachment  be,  if  we  met  with  no  rubs  or  thorns  by  the  way  .^ 
Is  not  the  history  of  every  day  a  comment  upon  those  words, 
"  This  is  not  your  rest  .'*"  I  think  you  and  I  must  acknowledge 
that  the  Lord  has  given  us,  from  the  beginning  of  our  union,  a  fa- 
voiimd  lot:  I  think  we  hare  experieitced.  as  much  of  the  good, 


n 


180  LETTftES   TO    A   WIVE, 

and  as  few  of  the  evils  of  life,  as  any  person  whom  we  know.  And 
yet,  if  we  could  fairly  estimate  all  the  pains,  anxieties-,  and  crosses 
we  have  met  with,  from  first  to  last,  it  would  make  a  considerable 
abatement  in  what,  when  taken  in  a  more  general  view,  may  well 
be  deemed  a  happy  state.  And  bow  soon  has  the  best  of  it  pass- 
ed away !  Nothing  now  remains  of  many  endeared  hours,  but  the 
remembrance.  Though  we  have  had  tlie  best  that  such  a  life 
can  afford,  it  would  be  a  poor  happiness  indeed  were  this  our  all. 
But  blessed  be  God,  who  has  given  us  a  better  hope  than  we  had 
when  we  set  out.  For,  I  think,  we  then  proposed  no  higher  satis- 
faction than  we  could  find  in  each  other.  It  was  well  for  us  both 
that  I  was  constrained  to  leave  you  for  three  long  voyages ,  for 
though  those  frequent  separations  were  very  irksome  at  the  time, 
they  were  sanctified  to  make  us  look  further.  Oh !  he  has  led  us 
wisely  and  graciously !  He  has  done  all  things  well.  We  have 
nothing  now  to  ask,  but  for  a  deeper  and  more  thankful  sense  of 
his  goodness. 


Olney^  November  26. 
I  AM  thinking  of  you,  and  lifting  up  my  heart  for  you,  almost 
continually.  You  are  in  the  Lord's  school.  He  sent  you  t6 
give  you  the  most  satisfactory  proofs  of  his  goodness  to  your  fa- 
ther ;  which  I  hope  will  prove  an  encouragement,  and  a  cause 
of  great  thankfulness,  to  yourself.  He  is  very  gracious,  and,  I 
trust,  will  show  himself  so  to  you,  and  in  you.  But  you  deprive 
yourself  of  comfort  by  listening  to  the  voice  of  unbelief,  which 
weakens  your  hands  and  prevents  your  progress.  How  often  are 
you  distressed,  as  though  you  were  only  to  see  the  goodness  of 
the  Lord  to  others,  and  not  to  taste  of  it  yourself!  Yet  the  path 
of  few  people  through  life  has  been  more  marked  with  peculiar 
mercies  than  yours.  How  differently  has  he  led  us  from  .the  way 
we  should  have  chosen  for  ourselves !  We  have  had  remarkable 
turns  in  our  affairs  ;  but  every  change  has  been  for  the  better,  and 
ip  every  trouble,  (for  we  have  had  otir  troubles,)  he  has  given 
us  effectual  help.  Shall  we  not  then  believe  that  be  will  perfect 
that  which  concerns  us  ?  When  I  was  an  infant,  and  knew  not 
what  I  wanted,  he  sent  you  into  the  world  to  be,  first,  the  princi- 
pal hinge  upon  which  my  part  and  character  in  life  was  to  turn, 
and  then  to  be  my  companion.  We  have  travelled  together  near 
twenty-six  years  ;  and  though  we  are  changeable  creatures,  and 
have  seen  almost  every  thing  change  around  us,  he  has  preserved 
otii  affections  by  his  blessing,  or  we  might  have  been  weary  of 
ea^h  other.     How  far  we  have  yet  to  go,  we  know  not ;  but  the 


WaiLB  RSSIDCMT  AT  OLNST.  189 

greater  and  (as  to  externals)  tbe  pleasanter  part  of  oar  journey  is 
probably  passed  over.  If  our  lives  are  prolonged,  cbe  shadows 
of  tbe  evening,  old  age,  with  its  attendant  infirmities-,  will  be  press- 
ing upon  as  soon.  Yet  I  hope  this  uncertain  remaining  part  of 
our  pilgrimage  will  opon  tbe  whole,  be  tbe  best ;  for  our  God  is 
ell-sufficient,  and  can  make  us  more  happy  by  the  light  of  his 
coantenance,  when  oor  temporal  comforts  fail,  than  we  ever  were 
when  we  possessed  them  to  the  greatest  advantage. 


0/ncy,  December  8. 

When  you  told  me  that  S****  was  coming  home,  my  heart 
sank  like  a  stone  ;  but  it  soon  revived  upon  finding  you  had  al- 
tered your  purpose.  If  she  had  come,  I  must  either  have  sent 
her  back  again,  or  have  set  out  myself  to  fetch  you.  If  you  were 
not  where  you  are,  she  would  be  very  useful  to  me  here  :  I  feel 
the  want  of  her.  But  as  things  stand,  you  must  either  both  come, 
or  both  stay  ;  for  I  should  not  have  one  comfortable  day  if  you 
were  at  Chatham  alone.  Every  inconvenience  will  seem  light, 
if  compared  with  the  thoughts  of  your  being  left  by  yourself.  Your 
dear  father  is  not  acquainted  either  with  my  feelings  or  ray  situa- 
tion ;  but  you  will  do  best  to  apprize  him  of  both.  As  to  your 
return,  if  tliere  be  good  grounds  to  think  that  the  time  of  his  de^ 
partore  is  near  at  band,  I  ought  not  to*desire  it  ;  but  if  tbe  unex- 
pected turn  the  physician  speaks  of  should  prolong  his  life,  for 
months  or  years,  and  restore  him  to  the  same  state  in  which  you 
left  him  in  September,  your  presence  at  home  will  soon  be  so  ne- 
cessary,  that  nothing  but  the  most  urgent  call  of  duty  can  dispense 
with  it.  1  speak  not  merely  upon  my  own  personal  account ; 
you  are  greatly  wanted  by  tbe  sick,  by  the  poor,  and  by  your 
family.  There  are  many  things  to  which  I  cannot  attend  as  I 
ought,  while  you  are  away.  I  hope  if  your  father  recovers,  so 
far  as  to  bear  a  removal,  he  will  give  up  business'  and  come  and 
live  with  us  ;  and  spend  tbe  remnant  of  bis  days  amongst  those 
who  can  join  with  him  in  talking  of  that  better  land  to  which  lie 
is  going,  and  in  praising  the  Lord  for  his  goodness. 

I  hope  nothing  that  I  have  written  will  make  you  uneasy.  My 
mind  has  been  a  little  agitated  ;  but  now  I  have  put  down  my 
thoughts  upon  paper,  I  am  composed  again.  Your  absence  is, 
indeed,  a  trial ;  but  who  am  I,  that  I  should  not  have  trials  f  Ah  !  I 
have  deserved  much  more  than  this ;  even  to  be  broken,  with  breach 
upon  breach,  and  to  be  deprived  of  you  altogether.  The  Lord 
helps  me  in  some  measure,  to  resign  til  to  his  disposal,  and  to  say, 
Uoi  my  will  bat  thine  be  done.    This  separation  is  not  like  some 


190  LETTERS   TO   ▲  ITlPfii 

which  we  hav«  form^ly  known  :  there  are  no  oceans  between  us 
now,  nor  am  I  under  a  painful  suspense,  as  when  I  could  not  hear 
of  you  for  a  whole  twelvemonth.  Even  then  be  was  pleased  to 
watch  over  ns ;  to  support  us ;  and  restore  us  to  each  other,  again 
and  again.  Therefore,  my  soul,  hope  thou  in  God,  for  I  shall  yet 
praise  him.  Yea,  I  will  praise  him  now,  for  his  goodness  to  you. 
I  know  you  have  felt  much  :  afflictions  must  be  felt  to  be  sancti- 
fied. But  yon  have  been  strengthened  according  to  your  day. 
We  seem,  as  I  lately  observed,  to  have  had  as  smooth  a  journey, 
thus  far,  as  most  people.  Yet,  at  intervals,  our  trials  have  been 
very  sharp.  Mine  are  always  so  when  I  feel  for  you  ;  though 
few  things  with  which  your  peace  or  comfort  are  not  connected, 
give  me  much  trouble.  I  pay,  at  some  seasons  a  heavy  tax  for 
loving  you,  I  had  almost  said  too  well.  But  I  cannot  love  you  too 
well,  unless  I  love  you  improperly.  I  believe  it  was  of  the 
Lord^s  goodness  that  I  loved  you  at  first ;  and  I  am  sure  that  both 
duty  and  gratitude  bind  me  to  love  you  now.  The  love  which  a 
husbaiid  should  bear  to  a  wife,  is  expressed  in  very  strong  terms 
by  the  apostle,  Ephes.  v.  25 — ^28.  But  you  certainly  have  been  . 
•my  idol ;  and  I  often  fear,  you  are  too  much  so  still.  Alas! 
how  difficult  is  it  to  draw  the  line  exactly  between  undervaluing 
and  overvaluing  the  gifts  of  God  !  The  good  Lord  pity  and  par- 
don us  both,^  and  take  such  a  full  possession  of  our  hearts,  that 
no  rival  may  interfere  with  what  is  due  only  to  him  ! 


0/ncy,  December  7. 

If  your  letters  (as  you  think)  afibrded  me  neither  pleasure  nor 
comfort,  I  should  not  so  earnestly  wish  you  to  write ;  but  you 
may  be  assured  they  afford  me  both,  and  that,  in  your  absence, 
nothing  of  a  temporal  kind  can  give  me  equal  satisfaction.  I 
usually  grow  thoughtful  and  absent  about  four  o'clock,  when  I 
expect  the  post  is  coming,  till  I  hear  the  horn  ;  then  my  spirits 
flutter.  But  when  I  receive  a  letter  from  you,  have  read  it,  and 
find  you  were  well,  I  presently  feel  composed,  and,  I  hope,  a  lit-^ 
tie  thankful.  Thus  it  was  to-night.  Glad  1  am  to  hear  that  your 
dear  father  is  preparing  to  part  with  his  house,  and  seems  not  un- 
willing to  come  to  Olney  ;  where,  I  trust,  he  will  find  me  heartily 
joining  with  you  to  do  every  thing  in  our  power  to  make  bis  re- 
maining days  comfortable. 

The  language  of  Psal.  xl.  5.  suits  me  well.  There  is  no  end 
to  the  inventory  of  my  mercies.  May  he  who  has  given  so  much 
to  us,  and  done  so  much  for  us,  add  the  crowning  mercy  of  a 
thankful  heart !     Though  1  can  talk  of  thankfulness^  I  feel  much 


WPII^S  RESIDENT  4T  OLN#T.  Idl 

Insensibility  ;  but  I  know,  that  while  sin  dwetleth  in  me,  it  will 
have  effects.  It  will  distress,  but  it  cannot  condemn  those  who' 
believe  in  Jesus.  In  Isaiah,  xliii.  24,  25,  we  have  a  character 
oftbe  Lord's  salvation  :  it  is  free,  for  his  ownsalie.  It  is  full ; 
the  blotting  out  of  sins,  like  a  cloud,  beyond  recall  and  remem* 
brance.  And  the  subjects  of  this  salvation  are  they  who  have, 
wearied  him  by  their  iniquities. 


Olneyj  December  23. 

Many  prayers  are  offered  for  you  ;  and  I  hope  we  shall  soon 
bave  to  offer  praise.  I  pray,  not  only  that  we  may  be  restored 
to  each  other,  but  that  our  long  separation  may  be  sanctified  to 
OS  both.  Though  it  has  been  a  gentle  trial,  compared  to  what 
the  Lord  might  justly  have  sent,  and  mingled  with  great  mer-' 
cies,  yet  a  trial  it  is  to  me,  and  perhaps  more  so  to  you.  Not 
that  I  mean  to  yield  the  palm  to  you,  as  if  you  can  be  more  sensi-* 
biy  affected  by  absence  than  myself,  but  I  allow  my  situation  at 
home  is  more  pleasant  than  yours  while  abroad.  Considered  as 
a  trial,  we  have  cause  to  be  thankful  that  it  has  been  so  much 
sweetened ;  and  we  should  likewise  aim  to  draw  some  useful  les- 
sons from  it.  I  hope  I  have  learned  some,  if  I  can  but  practise 
them.  I  cannot  feel  how  much  I  miss  you,  when  you  are  from 
me  but  a  few  weeks  without  thinking  what  support  I  should  need, 
if  I  was  wholly  deprived  of  you.  The  like  thought,  1  suppose, 
js  sometimes  upon  your  mind.  The  hour  will  probably  come, 
when  we  must  experience  the  alternative  of  leaving,  or  being  left. 
For  though  possible,  it  is  not  very  likely,  that  we  shall  be  remov-* 
ed  both  at  once.  May  the  Lord  impress  the  event  of  this  un* 
known  hour  upon  our  minds  ;  not  to  distress  us,  but  to  keep  alive 
in  us  a  sense  of  the  insignificancy  of  every  thing  here,  compared 
with  the  one  thing  needful !  May  he  cause  our  faith  to  grow  and 
take  deep  root,  and  fix  in  us  such  a  persuasion  of  his  all-sufficien* 
cy  and  grace,  and  of  our  interest  in  his  promises,  that  we  may 
trust  and  not  be  afraid,  but  cheerfully  commit  all  that  is  before 
us  to  his  care.  He  who  has  supported  us  for  weeks,  can  support 
08  for  years,  and  make  those  things  tolerable  which  seem  the 
most  formidable  in  prospect.  We  are  prone  to  be  over-earnest 
about  matters,  which  will  one  day  appear  to  us  of  no  more  impot^ 
tance  than  the  recollection  of  a  dream.  But,  oh  !  the  peace 
of  God  satisfies  and  fills  the  heart,  and  leaves  but  little  room  fof 
anxious  cares,  or  a  warmth  of  spirit  about  trifles  ! 

I  acknowledge  your  kindness  in  sending  me  tolerable  long  let- 
ters, and  by  way  of  thanks,  I  have  this  tiiqe  taken  a  large  she.et 


id3  *  LEVTMRs  90  ▲  Wins, 

of  |Mper^  and  wH)  try  to  fill  it.  If  I  bad  leisare,  and  coald  find 
soroethiog  to  say,  I  would  please  myself  with  writing,  not  sheets, 
but  quires.  But  I  have  many  things  to  attend,  and  meet  with 
hourly  interruptions.  When  I  awakened  our  dear  little  girl  this 
morning,  I  asked  her  for  a  text,  and  she  very  promptly  gave  me 
Isa.  xlii.  16,  which  contains  an  epitome  of  my  own  history  and  of 
yours  also.  How  blind  were  we,  when  the  Lord  brought  us  to- 
gether !  How  little  did  we  then  think  of  the  paths,  by  which,  and 
to  which,  he  had  purposed  to  lead  us.  But  he  caused  light  to 
shine  upon  our  darkness,  he  has  made  a  thousand  crooked  things 
straight  before  us,  and  we  have  good  reason  to  trust  his  promise 
that  he  will  not  forsake  us.  Crooked  things  will  occur  in  our 
path  now  and  then  ;  but,  if  he  be  with  us,  we  need  not  fear.  And 
the  time  is  short.  May  we  learn  to  speak  the  Psalmist's  lan- 
guage from  our  hearts,  "  Lord !  what  wait  we  for  ?  our  hope  is  iu 
thee.''  We  have  seen  much  of  the  good  which  this  life,  in  a  tem- 
poral view,  can  afford.  We  have  felt  enough  of  its  evils  to  know 
that  all  here  is  mingled  with  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit.  And 
I  trust,  that  before  he  removes  us,  he  will  make  us  heartily  willing 
to  go,  that  we  may  behold  Him  who  shed  his  precious  blood  to 
redeem  our  souls. 


Olnetfy  December  26. 

The  Lord  is  very  good  to  me.  He  maintains  my  peace,  and 
preserves  me  from  evils  and  snares.  But  I  feel  much  abomination 
in  my  heart.  I  can  truly  say,  it  is  a  cage  of  unclean  and  hateful 
birds.  I  dare  not  intrust  any  one,  not  even  you,  with  a  detail  of  the 
wild,  foolish,  and  dreadful  thoughts  which  often  pester  my  mtod. 
The  Lord  who  is  infinitely  holy,  sees  all,  yet  he  bears  with  me, 
and  permits  me,  vile  as  I  am,  to  call  him  mine.  Is  not  this  won- 
derful f  Oh  !  he  is  full  of  grace  and  mercy  !  1  hope  you  think 
and  find  him  so. 

Yesterday  was  a  busy  time,  but  I  was  led  comfortably  through. 
I  had  a  good  night,  and  slept  this  morning  till  past  seven.  I  am 
sufficiently  indulgent  to  Mr.  Self.  Do  not  fear  my  pinching  or 
over-working  him.  I  need  a  spur  more  than  a  bridle.  You  of- 
ten think  I  do  too  much ;  I  much  oftener  see  cause  to  confess 
myself,  comparatively  at  least,  a  slothful  and  unprofitable  servant. 
In  the  concerns  of  immortal  souls,  with  eternity  in  view,  and  so 
much  depending  upon  the  present  moment,  what  assiduity  or  im- 
portunity can  be  proportioned  to  the  case  ?  I  ought  to  be  always 
upon  the  wing,  seizing  any  opportunity  of  aiming  to  be  useful, 
whether  by  word  or  pen ;  and,  of  coarse,  much  more  careful  and 


WHILE   RES1DEU7T   XT  OLNtY.  ld3 

diligeot  than  I  am  to  redeem  the  time.  The  Lord  pity  and  par- 
don us  all,  and  make  us  as  wise  in  our  generation  as  the  men  of 
the  world  are  in  theirs  I 


Olney^  December  2T. 
Wc  are  all  well,  and  therefore  you  need  not  be  alarmed  at  my 
writing  so  soon.  Mr.  R^***  called  on  me  this  morning,  and 
when  1  spoke  of  my  intended  journey,  he  said  he  must  go  to  Lon- 
don soon,  and  that  if  he  conld  be  of  any  service,  he  would  suit 
his  time  to  ours,  and  willingly  conduct  your  father  to  Olney. 
When  he  first  spoke,  my  heart  answered.  Thank  you  for  nothing  ; 
I  do  not  choose  to  miss  the  pleasure  of  seeing  my  dear  M***  at 
least  a  whole  week  sooner  than  if  I  wait  for  her  at  home.  But  I 
soon  considered,  Mr.  R*^**  U  an  active,  strong  man,  who  has  his 
eyes  and  his  wits  about  him,  and  could,  perhaps,  upon  many  oc« 
casion8,be  much  more  helpful  to  my  father  than  1  could.  So  I 
must  mention  this  to  her,  andjf  she  approves  it,  1  must,  for  my 
father's  sake,  submit  to  stay  a  little  longer  before  I  see  her.  If 
you  think  that  my  coming  will  do  as  well  or  better,  here  I  am 
waiting.  Nothing  but  prudence,  and  a  sense  of  duty  here,  would 
prevent  my  setting  oflf  towards  you  this  night.  I  should  much  pre- 
fer it  to  going  to  bed.  If  it  depended  on  my  will  only,  I  feel  myself 
well  disposed  to  take  a  journey  of  five  hundred  miles,  for  one  day 
or  half  day  of  your  company,  if  I  could  have  it  upon  no  easier 
terms.  1  need  not  multiply  words  ;  you  well  know  that  I  cannot 
wish  for  an  excuse  to  prevent  my  coming  to  you.  But  your  fa- 
ther's safe  and  comfortable  travelling  is  at  present  a  chief  object 
with  me.  I  love  him  for  his  own  sake  ;  when  he  gave  his  con- 
sent that  you  should  be  mine,  he  laid  me  under  an  obligation 
which  I  can  never  repay  ;  and  over  and  above  all  this,  he  is  your 
father. 


1776. 


O/ficy,  January  7. 

Fob  fear  the  snow  should  prevent  my  being  with  you  on  Tues-* 
day,  I  write  a  hasty  line  to  tell  you  that  we  are  all  well. 

I  suppose,  if  Self  had  his  will,  he  would  think  his  journey  to 
yoo  of  such  importance,  that  no  snow  should  have  fallen  to  re- 
tard it^  or  make  it  inconvenient.  Poor  prond  creature  !  What  a 
presumptuous  worm,  to  admifr-oi^e  thought  against  the  appoint- 

Vol.  IV.  *  65 


194  LBTTERS   TO  A   WIFfi, 

merit  of  the  Most  High ;  instead  of  being  dul?  thankful  that  you 
and  I  are  safely  sheltered,  and  well  provided  for,  in  this  severe 
weather !  Wha^t  hardships  are  some  persons  suffering  this  morn- 
ing,  while  you,  I  hope,  are  sleeping  peacefully  in  your  bed,  and  I 
am  sitting  by  a  good  fire.  Far  be  it  from  us  to  repine,  if  in  some 
things  our  inclinations  are  a  little  crossed.  It  is  often,  yea,  always, 
in  mercy  when  they  are.  We  have  seen  it  so  in  many  instances 
thready,  and  shall  hereafter  see  that  it  was  so  in  all. 

Let  me  bee  you  not  to  give  way  to  fears  on  my  account,  nor  lo 
calculate  the  depth  of  the  snow  at  present ;  nor  of  the  floods,  when 
the  snow  shall  melt.  Since  you  have  had  an  interest  in  me^  the 
Lord  has  preserved  me  ia  the  midst  of  many  dangers,  such  as  you 
can  form  no  idea  of.  We  may  safel v  trust  him  now.  His  arm  is 
not  weary ;  he  is  always  near  us,  and  bis  providence  watchful  over 
those  that  fear  him.  but  I  know  I  cannot  reason  away  your  ap- 
prehensions, any  more  than  I  can  my  own  when  they  are  exercised 
about  you.  I  will  therefore  direct  my  thoughts  upward — Lord  do 
thou  keep  her  heart  staid  upon  thee,  and  give  her  power  to  trust 
all  in  thine  hand,  and  submit  all  to  thy  will !  Amen»     * 


■^  Olney^  January  9. 

If  I  did  not  feel  for  your  anxiety,  I  should  be  quite  easy,  for  we 
are  all  well,  and  surrounded  with  mercies.  I  thought  to  be  in 
London  to-night,  and  with  you  to-morrow  ;  but  the  Lord  appoint- 
ed otherwise.  The  greatest  fall  of  snow  I  ever  remember,  has 
prevented  me  ;  but  I  might  have  been  prevented  by  illness.  Till 
ten  or,  eleven  this  morning,  I  thought  of  making  myself  as  easy  as 
I  could  at  home.  But  after  the  wagon  came  in,  finding  that  the 
road  was  open  to  Newport,  and  it  beginning  to  thaw,  I  supposed, 
if  I  cotild  reach  thither,  I  should  find  the  high  road  passable 
enough.  As  I  chalked  it  out,  I  was  to  reach  St.  Alban's  by  eight, 
set  out  from  thence  at  four  to-morrow  rooming,  breakf^t  in  Lon« 
don,  and  drink  tea  in  the  afternoon  with  my  dearest  M***.,  <  Ac- 
cordingly, about  noon  we  began  our  march*  Mr.  R****  led  the 
v^n,  I  was  in  the  centre,  and  Richard  brought  up  the  rear*  He 
was  designed  to  bring  the  horses  home.  I  was  a  little  concerned 
how  he  would  be  able  to  manage  the  three  horses  ;  but  my  con- 
cern vras  needless,  for  we  returned  as  we  went.  The  road  from 
Newport  was  impassable  to  carriages.  Neither  chaise  nor  mail 
could  move.  1  came  safely  home,  well  pleased  that  I  had  made 
the  attempt,  and  only  anxious  lest  you  should  be  alarmed.  I  wish 
you  may  be  able  to  drive  away  your  fears  upon  my  account,  or 
rather  pray  them  away.  I  am  in  safe  hands.  The  Lord  is  my 
protector,  aad  yours  too.    But  if  your  pamful  feefings  cannot  bi 


WBiLt   RESIDENT   At  OLITET.  199 

avoided,  may  they  be  sanctified !  My  love  is  unwUlitig  that  yo^ 
have  an  uneasy  moment ;  but  the  Lord^s  love  is  not  only  tender, 
but  wise. 

Nor  let  us  regret,  that  this  fall  of  snow  should  prolong  our  sepa«- 
ration.  It  fell  By  the  direction  of  God's  providence,  both  as  to 
the  tune  and  the  spot.  And  he  likewise  times  our  concerns,  or 
the  snow  might  have  detained  your  father  on  the  road,  as  I  heat  it 
has  some  company,  who  were  glad  to  be  sheltered  in  a  small  pub- 
lie-house  by  the  road  side,  and  can  neither  get  backward  nor  for* 
ward.  Come  ;  all  is  well^  We  are,  indeed,  asunder ;  but  I  am 
not  in  Afirica.  How  things  are  now  we  know*  What  unforeseen 
events  the  interposition  ofthe  snow  may  have  prevented,  we  know 
not.  As  it  is,  the  consciousness  of  loving  and  being  beloved, 
Tematns  with  us  ;  and  this  is  better  than  every  thing  else  ^tould 
be  without  it. 


(Uneyy  Xanuary  20. 

You  say  you  cannot  describe  your  uneasiness,  when  you  neither 
saw  me^  as  you  expected,  nor  heard  from  me.  I  need  no  descrip* 
tion.  I  felt  it  foryou.  I  well  know  how  you  would  be  situated, 
unless  you  were  apprised  that  the  roads  were  stopped.  Had  the 
snow  fallen  with  you  as  with  us,  you  would  have  9K:coimted  tar 
lay  not  coming.  I  think  no  motive,  less  powerful  than  yourself, 
would  have  induced  me  to  go  to  Newport  whea  I  did.  It  was  at 
least  an  unpleasant  ride  ;  and  1  could  not  have  manetged  It  had  I 
been  alone.  We  were  obliged  in  some  places  to  quit  the  road, 
which  was  impassable,  and  to  £o  round  Uke  odw  fields  ;  and,  at 
times,  both  the  horse  and  his  rider  were  almost  ouried  ia  tfiesnow. 
Jf  either  fatigue  or  expense  could  have  prevented  your  anxiety, 
you  would  have  had  none.    But  I  hope  all  is  well  over  now. 

It  may  help  to  make  us  patient,  it  should,  indeed,  make  us 
thankful,  to  reflect  upon  the  vast  distress  that  multitudes  are  pro* 
hMy  in,  both  by  sea  and  land,  at  this  moment  while  I  am  writing  5 
aome  starving  with  cold,  others  with  hunger,  aome  lost  in  the  snow, 
itthars  dashing  a^nst  the  rocks.  Ah,  my  dearest,  haw  lias  sin 
filled  the  world  with  wo !  And  we  ave  sinners  like  others  ;  but  our 
aaffisite^  are  light  compared  with  what  jnanv  ^eodure,  and  still 
more  lagbl,  if  compared  with  our  deserts.  The  Lord  has  done  a 
great  thing  for  us,  la  showing  us  the  way  of  salvation.  Here  may 
*our  thouriUs  and  desiit^s  chiefly  fix.  Il  sin  be  paidmied,  if  we  ane 
accepted  ia  the  Beloved,  then  He  wUl  guide  us  by  the  way,  and 
Jieaven  will  be  our  portion  at  the^d.  And  see !  He  is  seated  on 
a  Arooe  of  grace,  and  ready  to  beataw  every  blessii^  that  we. 
Med,  move  than  our  scan^  aiinds  can  either  ask  or  .canceive«    I 


196  LETTERS   TO   A   WIFE, 

am  at  a  distance  from  you.  But,  alas  !  what  am  I  ?  If  you  wefe 
here,  I  could  afford  you  no  comfort  or  help,  but  by  his  blessing* 
But  he  can  do  you  good  without  me.  He  can  sensibly  refresh  you, 
or  secretly  support  you,  and  be  unto  you  a6  rivers  of  water  in  a 
dry  place. 


.    Olney,  January  2d. 

I  AM  not  surprised  that  you  sometimes  find  it  hard  to  be  recon- 
ciled to  your  present  situation.  1  was  much  comforted  by  th6 
strain  of  cheerful  submission  expressed  in  your  two  former  let- 
ters ;  but  I  know,  from  what  passes  in  my  own  heart,  that  we  can- 
not maintain  such  a  resigned  frame  of  spirit  by  any  power  of  our 
own.  I  wish  you,  however,  to  look  back  a  month  or  two,  to  the 
time  when  you  feared  something  had  happened  to  me.  You  then 
thought,  if  you  could  be  sure  that  I  was  well,  you  could  mak6 
light  of  eveiT  inconvenience.  The  present  severe  weather  is  a 
dispensation  n'om  the  Lord.  Thousands  feel  much  more  terrible 
effects  from  it  than  we  have  felt ;  and  I  know  no  ground  of  claim 
that  we  have  to  an  exemption  firom  a  share  in  those  trials  to  which 
all  are  exposed.  May  tiie  Lord  help  us  to  siit)mit  and  wait  pa- 
tiently ;  for,  after  all,  we  can  alter  nothing.  We  may  make  things 
worse,  by  a  want  of  resignation,  but  we  cannot  mena  them. 

I  acknowledge  that  your  part  of  the  trial  has  been  the  hardest ; 
yet  mine  has  not  been  light,  especially  if  what  I  have  felt  for  you 
be  taken  into  the  account.  Yet,  upon  the  whole,  the  Lord  keeps 
my  mind  attentive  to  what  I  have  deserved,  and  to  what  others  suf- 
fer ;  so  that,  in  the  main,  I  am  quiet  and  peaceful.  If  either  you 
or  I,  or* the  dear  childi  had  been  'ill,  the  trial  would  have  been 
much  gi-eater  5  yet  even  then  we  could  not  have  helped  ourselves* 


Olnejfy  January  30. 
Writing  to  you  »  now  almost  the  only  thin^  to  which  I  can 
attencf.  Let  us  try  to  be  thankful  that  we  are  all  well,  and  fei- 
voured  with  the  necessaries  and  comforts  of  life.  And  let  us  pray 
that  this  separatbn,  with  all  its  inconveniences,  may  be  sanctified. 
How  often  have  I  committed  you  and  myself  to  the  Lord,  seemed 
willing  that  he  should  tak^e  bis  own  methods  with  us,  and  that,  in 
hope  he  would  make  all  things  work  together  for  our  good,  I  would 
never  presume  to  say  to  him,  What  doest  thou  9  And  yet,  when  I 
think  of  your  present  distress,  my  spirits  are  so  scrftened  and  affec- 
ted, that  I  am  ready  to  overlook  my  innumerable  causes  for  thank- 
fukies».    I  can  easily  see  how  this  trial  may  be  one  of  the  alt 


»f  WHILE   R^LI>£KT   AT   OLNEY.  197 

Hiing$  working  together  fojr  our  eood  ;  but  it  is  his  blessing  must 
make  it  so.  For  if  left  to'myseu,  I  am  capable  of  forgetting  both 
corrections  and  comforts. 

I  am  writing  by  a  good  fire,  and  while  I  almost  burn  on  one  side, 
I  feel  the  frost  on  the  other.  How  true  is  that  word,  '^  Who  can 
stand  before  his  cold  ?"  And  there  is  another  good  word,  which 
I  hope,  in  due  time,  to  see  fulfilled :  '*  He  sendeth  forth  his  word 
and  melteth  them  ;  he  causeth  his  wind  to  blow,  and  the  waters 
fiow«''  He  can  make  a  speedy  and  powerful  change  in  the  weath- 
er. When  he  giveth  his  commandment,  it  runnem  very  swiftly. 
Such,  likewise,  is  his  power  over  the  heart.  He  can  give  peace 
for  trouble,  heal  our  sorrows,  revive  our  graces,  and  make  us  joy- 
ful in  tribulation.  If  he  speaks,  it  is  done.  He  can  bring  real 
and  enduring  good  out  of  seeming  and  transient  evil,  water  out  of 
rocks,  and  honey  out  of  lions.  Oh  !  that  I  could  leave  you,  my- 
self, and  my  all  in  his  hands ;  be  still,  and  know  that  he  is  Go<J« 
and  stand  still  to  see  his  salvation.  Remember  me  to  Mr.  K^***. 
If  he  wants  his  house  cleared,  I  want  mine  to  be  filled.  But  the 
Lord  has  interposed.  We  must  not  complain  \  if  we  do,  we  di- 
rectly find  fault  wit(i  him  who  appointeth  the  seasons. 


OJnetfj  February  1. 
Your  mournful  letter  made  me  thoroughly  uneasy,  till  this  eve% 
ning  about  eight,  when  I  was  supprized  by  a  note,  informing  m^ 
that  your  father  was  at  Newport,  where  they  could  not  get  a 
chaise,  but  wished  to  come  to  Olney  to-night,  if  I  could  send  one. 
You  may  guess  how  I  ran  and  flew  to  get  one.  It  set  off  soon ;, 
it  is  now  ten  o^clock,  and  I  expect  them  in  half  an  hour.  Your 
being  in  the  dumps  threw  me  into  the  dumps  deep  enough. 
I  was  distressed  tor  your  uneasiness,  but  still  hopea'  what  I 
wrote  last  would  prevent  his  coming.  For  I  was  filled  with 
the  most  alarmine  apprehensions  of  your  father's  travelling  in 
this  weather.    I  thought  the  &*ost  would  seize  his  legs,  and  ima- 

S'ned  I  saw  the  chaise  stopped  in  the  snow,  or  overturned,  and 
at  he,  incapable  of  helping  himself,  would  be  frozen  to  dcadi. 
The  messenger  arrived  more  than  an  hour  before  your  second 
letter,  or  it  would  have  increased  my  fears,  to  have  been  informed 
that  he  was  actually  upon  the  road.  I  have  not  felt  my  own 
weakness,  and  want  of  dependence  upon  God,  more  sensibly  in 
a  great  while.  But  I  hope  when  he  shall  have  brought  us  hap- 
pily together,  what  we  have  suffered  for  each  other,  during  these 
last  eleven  weeks,  will  be  remembered  by  us  with  thanktulness, 
and  to  profit.  ' 

P.  S*    Your  fiuher  arrived  at  half  past  ten,  safe  and  welL  as 


198  UTTERS  to  A  Wire, 

full  of  Spirits  as  a  yoting  man,  or  as  if  he  had  but  just  risen  from 
bed.  He  is  very  well  Uiis  morning,  and  so  we  are  all ;  and  every 
face  about  me  looks  more  pleasant,  as  we  now  can  form  a  reasona-* 
ble  hope  of  seeing  you  soon.^ 


f* 


1785. 


London,  Hoxton^  Augiut  6. 

I  LONG  to  hear  that  you  had  a  comfortable  journey  to  South-* 
ampton,  and  that  you  are  now  with  our  dear  friends.  Nothing  has 
taken  place  among  us  that  can  be  properly  called  new ;  which  is ' 
a  great  mercy.  For  though  you  nave  been  gone  but  one  day,  a 
single  day,  or  a  single  hour,  may  produce  painful  alterations  m  a 
family.  The  Lord  has  preserved  us  through  a  lon^  course  of 
years,  and  in  different  situations,  from  various  calamities  which 
have  overtaken  others. ,  Our  obligations  to  thankfulness  are  singu- 
lar and  numerous.  When  the  chaise  drove  past  the  corner,  my 
heart  seemed  to  go  away  with  it.  It  contained  what  was  of  more 
value  to  me  than  the  cargoes  of  a  whole  East-India  fleeu  Tell 
Eliza  that  I  love  her  very  dearly.  I  feel  parting  with  you  and 
with  her ;  but  I  can  cheerfully  submit  to  any  thing  that  may,  by 
the  Lord's  blessing,  contribute  to  her  recovery  or  relief.  She 
would  soon  be  well  if  I  could  make  her  so.  But  she  is  in  better 
hands  than  mine.  I  have  a  comfortable  hope  that  her  illness  has 
been,  and  will  be,  sanctified  to  an  end  far  more  desirable  than 
health  or  life  itself.  Therefore  I  leave  her  to  the  wise  and  merci- 
ful direction  of  the  Lord,  who,  I  trust,  loves  her  better  than  I  cani 

I  cannot  write  a  long  letter  to-night.  What  could  I,  indeed,  say^ 
if  I  had  more  time,  that  I  have  not  said  a  thousand  times  over? 
Yet  thers  still  is,  and  will  be,  something  unsaid  in  my  heart,  which 
I  have  not  words  to  express.  May  the  Lord  bless  this  little  sepa- 
ration to  quicken  us  to  mutual  prayer,  and  to  lead  us  to  a  tbanKfuI 
review  of  the  mercy  and  goodness  which  have  followed  us.  through 
the  many  years  we  have  been  united.  How  many  turns  have  wp 
seen !  under  how  many  trials  have  we  beea  supported  !  How 
many  deliverances  have  we  known  !  How  many  comforts  have 
we  enjoyed !  Especially,  what  great  advantages  oave  weipossess- 

*  From  the  above  period  ve  were  seldom  separated.  And  the  few  letters  I 
wrote  were  short  and  contained  tittie  that  I  can  dean  worth  transcribing.  1 
add  the  followinic,  written  after  our  removal  to  London,  when  the  illnefts  of 
our  dear  Eliza  Cunningham  made  a  kmrae j  to  Soatbampton  neceasar/.  I 
subjoin  them  chiefly  a*  a  testliDony  of  the  ucd*s  goodness  m^ueserviag  our 
affection  from  being  diminished  by  the  increase  of  yaan.  I  believe  I  was  not 
absent  from  her  more  than  a  day  or  two  at  a  timey  after  the  date  of  the  last, 
tSi  she  finished  her  course. 


WHILE  BBSIDEMT   IN   L^FBON.  199 

ed,  for  seeking  and  knowing  the  things  which  pertain  to  onr  ever- 
lasting peace !  The  years  we  have  passed  together  will  return  no 
more.  The  afflictions  are  gone,  the  pleasures  likewise  are  gone, 
forever.  The  longer  we  live,  such  pleasures  as  this  world  can 
afford  will,  more  and  more,  lose  their  poller  of  pleasing.  Only 
our  love,  I  trust,  will  subsist  and  flourish  to  the  end  of  life,  yea^  be- 
yond it.  It  will  always  be  a  truth,  that  the  Lord,  in  giving  me 
you,  gave  me  the  best  temporal  desire  of  my  heart.  But  the 
shadows  of  the  evening  advance.  Old  age  is  growing  upon  us, 
and  the  days  are  approaching  when  we  shall  have  no  pleasure  but 
what  we  can  derive  from  the  good  word  of  6od»  and  the  consola- 
tions of  his  Holy  Spirit !  These,  if  we  are  favoured  with  them, 
will  sufficiently  compensate  for  the  abatement,  or  the  loss,  of  all 
the  rest.  The  streams  may  run  dry,  but  the  fountain  of  living  wa- 
ters will  always  flow.  May  his  presence  be  near  our  hearts,  and 
then  all  will  be  well ! 

I  am  too  fully  employed  to  feel  time  hang  heavy  upon  my 
hands  in  your  absence ;  and  if  I  am  permitted  to  come  to  you,  the 
thoughts  of  the  journey's  end  will  make  the  journey  pleasant. 


Hoxton,  August  1 3. 

I  f  HANK  the  Lord  and  you  for  the  comfortable  account  of  your 
arrival  at  Southampton,  without  meeting  any  harm  in  the  way ; 
and  that  you  found  our  dear  friends  well.  We  entreated  the 
Lord  to  take  care  of  you ;  and  he  has  beard  our  prayer.  How 
often  has  he  heard  and  answered  us !  Oh !  that  we  may,  at 
length,  learn  to  trust  him  without  anxiety.  I  believe  I  shall  find 
it  diAmlt  to  procure  a  supply  for  my  church.  But  if  the  Lord 
pleases  to  let  me  see  my  dear  friends  at  Southampton,  while  you 
are  with  them,  ways  and  means  will  be  found.  His  will  must  take 
place ;  and  I  should  be  sorry  to  move  a  step  without  it. 

I  long  to  hear  ^hat  dear  Elixa  has  been  in  the  water,  and  how  it 
agrees  with  her.  The  Lord  can  give  it  the  virtue  of  the  pool  of 
Bethesda.  If  he  sees  it  best  for  her  on  the  whole,  she  will  find  re- 
lief. He  knows  what  is  best  for  her ;  I  do  not.  But  I  had  much 
rather  see  her  as  she  is,  than  in  full  health  and  spirits,  if  careless 
and  fond  of  dissipation,  as  is  too  frequently  the  case  with  girls  at 
her  age.  To  bear  the  yoke  in  youth,  is  not  pleasant  to  the  flesh  ^ 
but  it  has  often  proved  a  blessing  to  the  soul. 

I  commend  you  both  to  the  Lord  and  to  the  word  of  his  grace ; 
I  wish  you  much  of  that  peace  which  passeth  understanding,  par- 
ticularly in  this  respect,  and  it  has  no  necessary  dependence  upon 


200  LB^TEjaS  TO  A  ITlFfe,      « 

outward  things.  If  we  wait  upon  bioi,  we  are  sore  to  befemember- 
ed  with  the  favour  which  he  bears  to  his  own  people.  We  have 
much  to  be  thankful  for  in  this  life :  yet  there  is  a  thread  of  vani- 
ty runs  tl^rough  the  whole  of  it ;  for  He  who  has  done  and  suf- 
fered so  much  for  our  happiness,  does  not  design  that  we  should 
be  quite  happy  here. 


Hoxton^  August  17. 

I  THANK  my  dear  friends  for  their  great  kindness  to  you  ; 
tell  them  that  I  should  be  glad  to  be  w^h  you,  to  share  in  it.  But 
I  cannot  come,  with  propriety^  at  present.  1  hope  Eliza  will  be 
able  to  bathe  soon  ;  and  as  you  are  upon  the  spot,  I  think  3'ou 
must  wait  a  while.  Dependence  and  submission,  in  the  use  of 
prudent  means,  are  our  parts ;  events  are  in  the  hand  of  God.  It 
was  right  that  you  should  go  to  a  proper  place,  whether  she 
can  bathe  or  not,  now  she  is  there,  because  the  attempt  was 
thought  adviseable.  And  if  bathing  would  be  useful,  1  think  she 
will  yet  be  able.  If  not,  you  have  acted  to  the  best  of  your 
judgment.  What  we  call  disappointments,  are  dispensations, 
which,  if  rightly  improved,  will  answer  valuable  purposes,  and 
we  shall  hereafter  see  cause  to  be  thankful  for  them.  I  am  wil- 
ling to  think  that  I  love  Eliza  almost,  if  not  altogether,  as  well  as 
you  do.  But  there  is  an  over  anxiety  attending  3'our  love,  which 
hurts  you,  and  can  do  her  no  good.  Your  reflections  upon  this 
subject  please  me.  I  would  do,  I  would  suffer,  much  for  her  ad- 
vantage. But  still  we  are  creatures.  Our  Lord  God  has  an  ab- 
solute right  to  dispose  of  us,  and  of  ours,  as  he  sees  fit.  And  as 
he  is  sovereign,  so  he  is  wise  and  good.  It  is  a  great  ntticv  to 
be  enabled  to  yield  to  his  will ;  for  every  thing,  and  ever^Rart, 
must  either  bend  or  break  before  it. 

What  shall  I  say  by  way  of  close  ?  What,  but  breathe  out  the 
warmest  wishes  of  my  heart  to  you  and  for  you.  Daily,  and 
often,  I  thank  the  Lord  for  giving  you  to  me  at  first,  and  for 
sparing  you  to  me  so  long.  How  very  different  would  the  histo- 
ry of  my  life*  have  been,  if  yours  had  not  been  connected  with  it ! 
That  my  idolatrous  regard  had  so  happy  an  issue,  and  that  my  sin 
and  folly  have  not  yet  deprived  me  of  you,  are  proofs  of  his  sin- 
gular mercy  to  me.  I  have  innumerable  comforts  to  be  thankful 
for ;  but  my  heart  is  so  intimately  united  to  you,  that  I  scarcely 
seem  susceptive  either  of  pleasure  or  pain,  but  with  some  reftr- 
ence  to  you.  Thus  it  was  when  our  union  commenced,  and  thus 
it  has  been  every  day  since,  to  this  hour.  If  I  could  say,  with 
confidence,  that  1  hold  you  now  in  your  proper  place  of  sobordi- 


WHILE   BCSIBENT   IH   tONDON.  S0| 

imtion  to  Htm  who  gave  you  to  me,,  tben  I  need  not  scruple 
to  profess  that  your  peace,  your  welfare,  and  your  love,  are 
dearer  to  roe  than  all  earthly  things.  The  latter  I  can  say  with 
truth ;  I  hesitate  about  the  former.  I  fear  you  are  too  much 
my  idol  still.  The  good  Lord  pardon  me  in  this  thing.  My 
choicest  comfort  has  been,  too  often,  the  occasion  of  showing  me 
the  evil  and  ingratitude  of  my  heart  in  the  strongest  light.  Oh  ! 
that  we  may  both  have  grace  to  live  the  remainder  of  our  days  to 
Him !  Do,  ray  dearest  M***,  pray  for  me,  pray  earnestly  for  me; 
and  may  He  return  all  the  good  you  can  ask  for  me  a  thousand 
fold  into  your  own  bosom ! 


Hoxiouy  August  23. 

I  THANK  you  for  your  letter  ;  and  I  thank  the  Lord  that  dear 
Eliza  is  able  to  bathe.  May  his  blessing  attend  every  means  for 
ber  relief;  and,  especially,  may  her  soul  prosper !  she  and  you 
are  daily  and  hourly  remembered.  You  express  the  very  senti- 
ments of  my  heart.  I  am  well  and  comfortable  in  the  main  ;  but 
there  is  a  want  of  something,  when  you  are  absent,  which  no  crea* 
ture  can  make  up.  I  hope  we  shall  meet  to  praise  him  soon  :  but, 
1  believe,  I  mast  wait  till  after  the  fourth  of  September.  I  hope 
l^all  then  procure  a  proper  supply  for  a  Sunday  or  two.  If  it 
hFthe  Lord's  good  pleasure  that  I  shall  come  to  you,  it  will  be 
made  practicable. 

1  cannot  but  wish,  with  you,  that  we  may  not  be  separated 
again  ;  but  it  is  of  more  importance  to  wish  and  pray  that  Qur 
present  separation  may  be  sanctified  to  us.  Many  things  ofier  to. 
amuse  us :  some  deserve  and  require  a  degree  of  our  attention  } 
but  one  thing  is  especially  needful.  What  a  mercy  is  it  that  this 
one  thing,  which  mountains  of  gold  and  silver  cannot  purchase,  is 
to  be  had  without  money  and  without  price  !  May  the  Lord  en- 
grave it  deeply  on  your  heart  and  mine !  His  name  is  Love ;  his 
word  is  Power.  As  sure  as  the  sun  will  rise  to-morrow,  so  sure  is 
his  promise,  that  he  will  in  no  wise  cast  out  them  that  come  unto 
him.  If  we  have  a  desire  for  his  blessings,  he  first  gave  it  us,  and 
therefore  will  not  disappoint  us.  I  long  to  see  and  hear  you  re- 
joicing in  his  salvation.  He  only  knows  the  many  prayers  I  have 
offered  for  you ;  I  trust  not  in  vain.  I  cannot  doubt  but  the  one 
thiqg  needful  is  your  chief  desire.  Every  thing  else  will  shortly 
fail  us ;  but  the  blessing  of  the  Gospel  will  last  through  life, 
through  death,  and  to  eternity. 

Vol.  IV.  26 


3012  LGttEllS   TO   A   WlFfi^ 

Hoxton,  August  27. 

I  LAID  me  down  in  peace,  and  awoke  in  safety  ;  (or  the  Lord 
sustained  me.  He  is  about  our  path  by  day,  andoorbed  by 
night,  and  preserves  us  from  innumerable  evils,  which  would  come 
upon  us  every  hour,  if  his  watchful  providence  did  not  pro- 
tect us.  He  is  our  sure,  though  invisible,  shield  ;  therefore, 
we  are  unhurt,  though,  in  ourselves  we  are  weak  and  defence- 
less, like  a  city  without  walls  or  gates,  and  open  to  excursions  from 
every  quarter.  Could  we  but  live  mdre  sensible  of  his  goodness, 
and  maintain  that  feeling  of  gratitude  towards  him  which  we  do 
to  some  of  our  fellow-creatures,  we  should  be  happy.  For  what 
is  the  great  destgn^of4he  Gospel  ?  Is  it  not  to  introduce  us  into  a 
state  of  the  most  honourable  and  interesting  friendship,  and  to 
perpetuate!  to  us  the  pleasure  which  we  find  in  pleasing  those  who 
are  dearest  to  us  ?  The  Lord  Jesus  is  our  best  friend  :  his  charac- 
ter is  supremely  excellent,  oar  obligations  to  him-  are  inexpressi- 
ble, our  dependence  upon  him  is  absolute,  and  onr  happiness,  in 
every  sense,  is  in  his  bands.  May  our  love,  therefore,  be  fixed 
upon  him,  and  w0  shall  do  well.  He  will  guide  us  with  his  eye, 
guard  us  by  his  power,  and  his  fullness  and  bounty  will  supply 
all  our  wants. 

As  to  dear  Eliza,  I  hope  1  have  made  up  my  mind  about  her. 
If  her  recovery  could  be  purchased,  I  think  I  would  bid  as  l^h. 
for  it  as  my  ability  would  reach,  provided  it  was  the  Lord's  vffil. 
But  I  am  so  short-sighted,  that  I  dare  not  ask  for  the  continuance 
-of  her  life,  (nor  even  of  yours,)  but  with  a  reserve  ofsubmissioiY 
to  his  wisdom.  I  know  not  what  mi^ht  be  the  possible  conse- 
quences, if  I  could  have  my  own  will.  I  know  he  can  restore  her, 
and  I  believe  he  will,  if  it  be  for  the  best.  If  not,  I  desire  to  sub- 
mit, of  rather,  to  acquiesce,  to  be  satisfied.  I  shall  feel  for  myself 
if  she  be  removed  ;  and  probably  my  feelings  will  be  doubled  and 
accented  upon  your  account.  But  he  can  support  us,  and  sanc- 
tify the  painful  dispensation  to  us  both.  I  pray  to  be  ena})led 
to  entrust  and  resign  every  thing  to  him.  This  is  not  an  easy  les- 
son to  flesh  and  blood  ;  but  grace  can  make  it  practicable.  For 
the  rest,  if  she  should  be  taken  off  in  a  moment,  I  have  reason  to 
be  quite  easy  about  the  event,  as  to  herself.  And  if  she  should 
decline  gradually,  I  have  little  doubt  but  the  Lord  will  enable  her 
to  speak  to  the  comfort  and  satisfaction  of  all  about  her.  She  is 
in  his  wise  and  merciful  hands ;  and  there  I  am  content  to  leave 
her. 


ITBltE   RCSISEHT   IN   tiONBON.  203 


Hoxton^  September  1^ 
It  is  a  maxim  with  me,  when  I  can  hope  my  intention  is  right,  to 
make  myself  as  easy  as  possible  about  consequences.  I  did  not 
apprehend  that  Elisa  had  finally  given  up  bathing :  and  Mr. 
T^**^'8  kind  letter  confirmed  my  determination  to  visit  yoo.  I 
therefore  took  places  early  in  the  Diligence  that  I  might  not  be 
4aily  pestered  with  an  anxious  fear  of  being  t6o  late,  and  thereby 
disappoint  you.  I  know  the  way  of  man  is  not  in  himself;  I  be- 
lieve the  Most  High  Lord  condescends  to  direct  the  steps  of  those 
who  depend  upon  his  guidance ;  and  I  am  aware  that  a  thousand 
events,  unforeseen  and  unthooght  of,  may  depend  upon  our  move- 
ments. On  thtese  grounds  I  prayed  him  to  direct  me ;  and  I  am 
satisfied.  If  we  come  down  to  Southampton  before  you  leave  it, 
I  shall  be  ready  to  return  with  you  the  next  morning,  if  you  think 
proper.  Every  thing  will  easily  give  way  to  my  attention  to  dear 
Eliza. 

^  Though  Monday  is  tlie  day  on  which  I  hope  to  meet  our  socie- 
ty, this  was  not  the  reason  why  I  fixed  to  set  off  on  Tuesday.  I 
am  not  fond  of  travelling  on  a  Monday,  wh^n  I  can  avoid  it. 
The  thoughts  of  something  relative  to  the  journey  might  intrude 
and  discompose  my  mind  on  the  Lord's  day,  wnich  I  love  to  en- 
joy as  quietly  as  |)ossible ;  and,  after  the  services  of  that  day,  a 
good  night's  rest  is  desirable.  I  thought,  if  I  changed  my  bed  on 
Sunday  evening,  and  rose  at  four  the  next  morning,  I  might  not 
corae  to  you  so  well  and  composed  as  i  hope  I  shall  on  Tuesday. 
Otherwise,  neither  that  society  nor  any  company  in  the  kingdom 
should  detain  me  a  day  from  yo^,  unnecessarily,  when  yon  expect 
me,  and  after  a  month's  absence.  I  iWmk  of  our  hoped-for  meet- 
ing on  Tuesday  next  with  much  the  same  anticipation  of  pleasure, 
as  when  I  have  formerly  been  on  the  return  to  you  from,  an  Afri- 
can voyage.  What  difiference  there  is,  I  compare  to  the  difference 
between  the  blossom  and  the  fruit.  The  blessing  of  the  Lord  up- 
on our  connection  has,  in  the  course  of  thirty-five  years,  ripened 
the  passion  of  love  into  a  solid  and  inexpressibly  tender  friendship ; 
which,  I  trust,  in  its  most  valuable  properties,  will  subsist  for 
ever.  I  shall  never  find  words  fully  to  tell  you  bow  much  1  owe 
you,  how  truly  I  love  you,  nor  the  one  half  of  what  my  bearf 
meanSf  when  I  subscribe  myself, 

You^  most  affectionate  and  obliged  husband. 


APPENDIX. 


No.  I. 


A  Rdaiion  ofiome  ParUeularSj  respecting  the  Catae,  Progress,  and  Close  of 
the  lasi  lUntss  qfmy  laU  dear  Wjfe, 

Amoi/g  my  readers,  there  will,  doubtless,  be  some  of  a  gentle, 
sympathising  spirit,  with  whom  I  am  not  personally  acquainted ; 
and  perhaps  their  feelings  may  so  far  interest  tliem  in  my  con- 
cerns, as  to  make  tbera  not  unwilling  to  read  a  brief  account  of* 
my  late  great  trial.  I  shall  allot  a  few  pages  to  this  purpose,  by 
way  of  close  to  my  book,  and  to  my  history. 

My  dear  wife  had .  naturally  a  good  constitution,  and  was  fa- 
voured with  good  spirits  to  the  last.  But  the  violent  shock  she 
sustained  in  the  year  1754,  when  I  was  suddenly  attacked  by  a 
fit  ( I  know  not  of  what  kind)  which  left  me  no  sign  of  life,,  for 
aboBt  an  hour,  but  breathing,  made  as  sudden  a  change  in  her 
habit,  and  subjected  her,  from  that  time,  to  a  variety  of  chronic 
complaints.  She  was  seyeral  times  confined,  for  five  or  six 
months,  to  her  chamber,  and  often  brought  so  low  that  her  recov* 
ery  was  deemed  hopeless*  I  believe  she  spent  ten  years  out  of 
forty  that  she  was  spared  to  me,  (if  all  the  days  of  her  sufferings 
were  added  together,)  in  illness  and  pain.  But  she  had  like- 
wise long  intervals  of  health.  The  fit  I  have  mentioned  (the  only 
one  I  ever  bad)  was  the  mean  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  appoint  in 
answer  to  ray  prayers,  to  free  me  from  the  irksome  seafaring  life 
in  which  I  was  till  then  engaged,  and  to  appoint  me  a  settlement 
on  shore. 

Before  our  removal  from  Liverpool,  she  received  a  blow  upon 
her  left  breast,  which  occasioned  her  some  pain  and  aniiety  for  a 
little  time,  but  which  soon  wore  oflT.  A  small  lump  remained  in 
the  part  afiect^d,  but  I  heard  no  more  of  it  for  many  years.  I 
believe  that,  latterly,  she  felt  more  than  I  was  aware  of ;  but  her 
tenderness  for  me  made  her  conceal  it  as  long  as  possible.  I 
have  often  since  wondered  at  her  success  \  and  how  I  could  be 
kept  so  long  ignorant  of  it. 

In  the  month  of  October,  1768,  she  applied  unknown  to  me, 
to  a  friend  of  mine,  an  eminent  surgeon.  Her  design  was,  if  he  ap- 
proved it,  to  submit  to  an  operation,  and  so  to  adjust  time  and  cir- 
cumstances with  him,  that  it  might  be  performed  in  my  absence,  and 


300  knzHDtt. 

before  I  coold  know  it.  But  the  surgeon  told  her  that  the  oiala*' 
dy  was  too  far  advanced,  and  the  tumour  (the  sise  of  which  he 
compared  to  the  half  of  a  melon)  was  too  large  to  warrant  the 
hope  of  being  extracted,  without  the  most  imminent  danger  of  her 
life,  and  that  he  durst  not  attempt  it.  He  could  give  her  but  lit- 
tle advice,  more  than  to  keep  herself  as  quiet,  and  her  mind  at 
easy,  as  possible  ;  and  little  moreeitfcooragemeot,  than  by  saying, 
that  the  pains  to  which  she  was  eiposed  were  generally  rendered 
tolerable  by  the  use  of  laudanum  :  to  which,  however,  she  bad  a 
dislike,  little  short  of  an  antipathy. 

I  cannot  easily  describe  the  composure  and  resignation  with 
which  she  gave  me  this  recital,  the  next  day,  of  her  interview  with 
the  surgeon  ;  nor  of  the  sensations  of  my  mind  while  I  heard  it. 
My  conscience  told  me  that  1  had  well  deserved  to  be  wounded 
where  I  was  most  sensible ;  and  that  it  was  my  duty  to  submit  with 
silence  to  the  will  of  the  Lord.  But  I  strongly  felt,  that  unless 
he  was  pleased  to  give  me  this  submission,  I  was  more  likely  to 
toss  like  a  wild  bull  in  a  net,  in  defiance  of  my  better  judgment. 

Soon  after,  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  visit  our  dear  adopted 
daughter  with  a  dreadful  fever,  which,  at  first,  greatly  afiected 
her  nerves,  and  afterwards  became  putrid.  She  was  brought  very 
near  the  grave  indeed ;  for  we,  once  or  twice,  thought  her  actually 
dead.  But  he,  who  in  the  midst  of  judgment  remembers  mer- 
cy, restored  her,  and  still  preserves  her,  Co  be  the  chief  temporal 
comfort  of  my  old  age,  and  to  aflbred  me  the  greatest  alleviation 
of  the  loss  I  was  soon  to  experience,  that  the  case  could  admit* 

The  attention  and  anxiety  occasioned  by  this  hea%7  dispensa* 
tion,  which  lasted  during  the  whole  of  a  very  severe  winter,  were 
by  no  means  suited  to  promote  that  tranquility  of  mind  which 
my  good  friend  wished  ray  dear  wife  would  endeavour  to  preserve. 
She  was  often  much  fatigued,  and  often  much  ahirmed.  Next 
to  each  other,  this  dear  child  had  the  nearest  place  both  in  her 
heart  and  mine.  The  effects  were  soon  apparent :  as  the  spring 
of  eighty-nine  advanced,  her  malady  rapidly  increased  ;  her 
pains  <were  almost  incessant,  and  often  intense,  and  she  could  sel- 
dom lie  one  hour '  in  her  bed  in  the  same  position.  Ob  !  my 
heart,  what  didst  thou  then  sufler ! 

But  in  April,  the  God  who  heareth  prayer  mercifully  aiTorded 
relief;  and  gave  such  a  blessing  to  the  means  employed,  that  her 
pains  ceased.  And  though,  I  believe,  she  never  had  an  hour  of 
perfect  ease,  she  felt  little  of  the  distressing  pains  incident  to  her 
malady  from  that  time  to  the  end  of  her  life,  (which  was  about 
twenty  months,)  excepting  at  three  or  fonr  short  intervals,  which, 
taken  together,  hardly  amounted  to  two  hours  :  and  these  returns 
of  anguish,  I  thought,  were  permitt^  to  show  me  how  much  I 


was  indebted  to  the  goodaess  of  God  for  exempting  her  feelingSi 
aud  my  sympathy,  from  what  would  have  been  terrible  indeed ! 

In  the  close  of  the  summer,  she  was  able  to  go  to  Southamp- 
ton, and  returned  tolerably  well. 

She  was  twice  at  church,  in  the  first  week  after  she  came  home* 
She  then  went  no  more  abroad,  except  in  a  coach,  for  a  little  air 
and  exercise ;  but  she  was  cheerful,  tolerably  easy,  slept  as  well 
as  most  people  who  are  in  perfect  health,  and  conid  receive  and 
eonverse  with  her  kind  friends  who  visited  her. 

It  was  not  long  after,  that  she  began  to  have  a  distaste  for  food, 
which  continued  and  increased ;  so  that,  perhaps,  her  death  was 
at  last  rather  owing  to  weakness  from  want  of  nourishment,  than 
to  her  primary  disorder.  Her  dislike  was,  first,  to  butcher^s 
meat,  of  which  she  could  bear  neither  the  sight  nor  the  smell. 
Poultry  and  fish,  in  their  turns,  became  equally  distasteful.  She 
retained  some  relish  for  small  birds,  a  while  after  she  had  given 
up  the  rest ;  but  it  was  at  a  season  when  they  were  difficult  to  ob- 
tained. I  hope  I  shall  always  feel  my  obligations  to  the  kind 
friends  who  spared  no  pains  to  procure  some  for  her,  when  they 
were  not  to  be  had  in  the  markets.  At  that  time  I  set  more  value 
upon  a  dozen  of  larks,  than  upon  the  finest  ox  in  Sraithfield. 
But  her  appetite  failed  to  these  also,  when  they  became  more 
plentiful* 

Under  this  trying  discipline  I  learnt,  more  sensibly  than  ever, 
to  pity  those  whose  sufferings  of  a  similar  kind  are  aggravated  by 
poverty.  Our  distress  was  not  small :  yet  we  had  every  thing 
within  reach  that  could,  in  any  degree,  conduce  to  her  refresment 
or  relief;  and  we  bad  faithful  and  affectionate  servants,  who  were 
always  williligly  engaged  to  their  power,  yea,  as  the  apostle 
speaks,  beyond  their  power,  in  attending  and  assisting  her  by 
night  and  by  day.  ^  What  must  be  the  feelings  of  those  who, 
when  afflicted  with  grievops  diseases,  pine  away,  unpitied,  unno- 
'ticed,  without  help,  in  a  great  measure,  destitute  orcomm9n  necesr 
aai-ies  f  This  reflection  among  others,  contributed  to  quiet  my 
mind,  and  to  convincenne  that  I  bad  still  much  more  cause  for 
thankfulness  than  for  complaint.  x 

.  For  about  a  twelvemonth  of  her  confinement,  her  spirits  wer^ 
good,  her  patience  was  exemplary,  and  there  was  a  cheerhiloess  in 
her  looks  and  her  laojguage  that  was  wonderful.  Often  the  liveli- 
ness of  her  remarks  has  forced  a  smile  from  us,  when  the  tears 
were  iii  our  eyes.  Whatever  little  contrivances  she  formed  for 
her  amusement  in  the  course  of  the  day,  she  would  attend  to  no-* 
thing  till  she  had  finished  her  stated  reading  of  the  Scripture  ;  in 
which  she  employed  much  time  and  great  attention.  I  have  her 
bible  by  me,  (which  I  woald  not  part  with  for  half  the  mum* 


308  APPENDIX. 

scripts  in  the  Vatican,)  in  which  almost  every  principal  text,  from  . 
the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  book,  is  marked  in  the  margin 
with  a  pencil,  by  her  own  dear  hand.  The  good  word  of  God 
was  her  medicine  and  her  food,  while  she  was  able  to  read  it.  She 
read  Dr.  Watts'  Psalms  and  Hymns,  and  the  Olney  Hymns  in  the 
same  manner.  There  are  few  of  them,  in  which  one,  two,  or 
more  verses,  are  not  thus  marked;  and  in  many,  which  I  suppose 
she  read  more  frequently  every  verse  is  marked. 

But  in  October,  the  enemy  was  permitted,  for  a  while,  to  t^ke 
advantage  of  her  bodily  weakness,  to  disturb  the  peace  and  se- 
renity of  her  mind.  Her  thoughts  became  clouded  and  confused ; 
and  she  gradually  lost,  not  only  the  comfortable  evidence  of  bet 
own  interest  in  the  precious  truths  of  the  bible,  but  she  lost  all 
hold  of  the  truth  itself.  She  doubted  the  truth  of  the  Bible,  or 
whether  the  truth  existed.  And,  together  with  this,  she  express^ 
ed  an  extreme  reluctance  to  death  ;  and  could  not  easily  bear  the 
mort  distant  hint  of  her  approaching  end,  though  we  were  ex- 
pecting it  daily  and  hourly.  This  was  the  (icme^  the  high-water 
mark  of  my  trial ;  this  was  hard  to  bear  indeed. 

My  readers,  perhaps,  will  scarcely  believe  that  I  derived  some 
Consolation,  during  this  gloomy  period,  from  perceiving  that  her 
-uttachment  to  me  was  very  sensibly  abated.  She  spoke  to  me 
with  an  indifference  of  which,  a  little  before  she  was^incapable.  If, 
when  the  Lord's  presence  was  withdrawn,  and  she  could  derive  no 
comfort  from  his  word,  sbe  had  found  some  relief  from  my  being 
with  her,  or  from  hearing  me  speak,  I  should  have  been  more 
^eved.  Her  affection  to  me,  confirmed  by  so  many  proofs  in  the 
course  of  forty  years,  was  not  to  be  impeached  by  this  temporary 
suspension  of  its  exercise.  I  judged  the  same  of  the  frame  of  her 
mind,  as  to  her  spiritual  concerns  ;  I  ascribed  them  both  to  the 
same  causes,  her  bodily  weakness,  and  the  power  of  temptation. 
She  was  relieved  in  both  these  respects,  after  about  a  fortnight 
spent  in  conflict  and  dismay.  The  Lord  restored  peace  to  her 
soul  ;  and  then  her  former  tenderness  to  me  immediately  revived. 
Then,  likewise,  sbe  could  calmly  speak  of  her'approaclung  disso- 
lution.- She  mentioned  some  particulars  concerning  her  funeral, 
and  our  domestic  concerns,  with  great  composure.  But  \\er 
miod  was  not  so  fully  restored  to  its  former  tone,  as  to  give  her 
freedom  to  enlarge  upon  her  hopes  and  views  as  I  had  wished, 
till  near  her  dissolution  ;  and  then  she  was  too  low  to  speak  at  all. 

One  addition  to  our  trial  yet  remained.  It  bad  been  iier  cus- 
tom, when  she  went  from  the  sofa  to  her  bed,  to  exert  herself  for 
my  encouragement,  to  show  me  how  well  she  could  walk.  But 
it  pleased  the  Lord,  that  by  some  alteration  which  affected  her 
spine,  sbe  was  disablod  from  moving  herself;  and  other  circum- 


APPENDIX. 


209 


Stances  rendered  it  extremely  difficalt  to  move  her.  It  has  taken 
five  of  us  near  two  boars  to  remove  her  from  one  side  of  the  bed 
to  the  other ;  and,  at  times,  even  this  was  impracticable  :  so  that 
she  has  lain  more  than  a  week  exactly  in  the  same  spot,  without 
the  possibility  of  changing  her  position.  All  this  was  necessary 
on  my  account.  The  rod  had  a  voice  ;  and  it  was  the  voice 
of  the  Lord.  I  understood  the  meaning  no  less  plainly  than  if 
be  had  spoken  audibly  from  heaven,  and  said,  "  Now  contemplate 
your  idol :  now  see  what  she  is,  whom  you  once  presumed  16 
prefer  to  Me  !'*  Even  this  bitter  cup  was  sweetened  by  the  pa- 
tience and  resignation  which  he  gave  her.  When  I  Said  *^  Yott 
suffer  greatly,"  her  answer  nsually  was,  "  I  suffer,  indeed,  but 
not  greatly.'*  And  she  often  expressed  her  thankfulness,  that 
though  her  body  was  immoveable,  she  was  still  permitted  the  use 
of  her  hands. 

One  of  the  last  sensible  concerns  she  felt  respecting^  this  world 
was,  when  my  honoured  friend,  patron,  and  benefactor,  the  late 
John  Thornton,  Esq.  of  Clapham,  was  removed  to  a  better.  She 
revered  and  regarded  him,  I  believe,  more  than  she  did  any  per- 
son upon  earth  ;  and  she  had  reason.  Few  had  nearer  access  to 
know  and  admire  his  character ;  and  perhaps  none  were  nnder 
greater,  if  equal  obligations  to 'him  than  we.  She  knew  of  his 
illness,  but  was  always  afraid  to  inquire  after  the  event ;  not 
shonld  I  have  ventured  to  inform  her,  but  that  the  occasion  requir* 
ing  me  to  leave  her  (or  four  or  five  hours^  when  I  hardly  expect- 
ed to  find  her  alive  at  my  return,  I  was  constrained  to  give  her 
the  reason  of  my  absence.  She  eagerly  replied,  "  Go^  by  all 
means ;  1  would  not  have  you  stay  with  me  upon  any  considera- 
tion.'' I  put  the  funeral  ring  I  was  favoured  with  into  her 
hands  ;  she  put  it  first  to  her  lips,  and  then  to  her  eyes,  bedewing  it 
with  her  tears.  I  trust  they  soon  met  again.  Bat  she  survived 
him  more  than  a  month. 

Her  head  became  so  affected,  that  I  could  do  little  more  than 
sit  and  look  at  her.  Our  intercourse  by  words  was  nearly  brok- 
en off.  She  could  not  easily  bear  the  sound  of  the  gentlest  foot 
npon  the  carpet,  4ior  of  the  softest  voice.  On  Sunday  the  twelfth 
of  December,  when  I  was  preparing  for  church  in  the  morning  she 
sent  for  me,  and  we  took  a  final  farewell  as  to  this  world.  She 
faintly  uttered  an  endearing  compellation,  which  was  familiar  to 
her,  and  gave  me  her  hand,  which  I  held  while  I  prayed  by  hej; 
bed-side.  We  exchanged  a  few  tears ;  but  I  was  almost  as  una- 
ble to  speak  as  she  was.  But  I  returned  soon  after,  and  said,  "  If 
yoar  mind,  as  I  trust,  is  in  a  state  of  peace,  it  will  be  a  comfort 
to  me  if  you  can  signify  it  by  holding  up  yoi|r  hand."  She  held 
it  up,  and  waved  it  to  and  fro  several  times. 
Vol.  IV.  27 


810  APPENDIX. 

That  ^ening  ber  speech,  her  eight,  and,  I  believe,  her  hearing, 
tirhoUy  failed.  She  continued  perfectly  composed,  without  taking 
notice  of  any  thing,  or  discovering  any  sign  of  pain  or  uneasiness 
till  Wednesday  evening,  towards  seven  o'clock.  She  then  began 
to  breathe  very  hard :  her  breathing  might  be  called  groaning,, 
for  it  was  heard  in  every  part  of  the  house  ;  but  I  believe  it  was 
entirely  owing  to  the  difficulty  of  expiration,  for  she  lay  quite  still, 
with  a  placid  countenance,  as  if  in  a  gentle  slumber.  There  was 
DO  start  or  struggle,  nor  a  feature  ruffled.  I  took  my  post  by  ber 
bedside,  and  watched  her  nearly  three  hours,  with  a  candle  in  my 
band,  till  I  saw  her  breathe  her  last,  on  the  15th  of  December^ 
1790,  a  little  before  ten  in  the  evening. 

When  I  was  sure  she  was  gone,  I  took  off  her  ring,  according  to 
her  repeated  injunction,  and  put  it  upon  my  own  finger.  I  then 
kneeled  down,  with  the  servants  who  were  in  the  room,  and  re- 
turned the  Lord  my  unfeigned  thanks  for  her  deliverance  and  her 
peaceful  dismission. 

How  wonderful  must  be  the  moment  after  death !  What  a  trans- 
ition did  she  then  experience !  She  was  instantly  freed  from  sin, 
and  all  its  attendant  sorrows,  and,  I  trust,  instantly  admitted  to 
join  the  heavenly  choir.  That  moment  was  remarkable  to  me 
likewise.  It  removed  from  me  the  chief  object  which  made  an- 
other day  or  hour  of  life,  as  to  my  own  personal  concern,' de- 
sirable. At  the  same  time  it  set  me  free  from  a  weight  of  painful 
feelings  and  anxieties,  under  which  nothing  short  of  a  divine 
power  could  have  so  long  supported  me. 

.  I  believe  it  was  about  two  or  three  months  before  her  death, 
when  I  was  walking  up  and  down  the  room,  offering  disjointed 
prayers  from  a  heart  torn  with  distress,  that  a  thought  suddenly - 
struck  me,  with  unusual  force,  to  this  effect : — ^'  The  promises  of 
God  must  be  tr4ie  ;  surely  the  Lord  will  help  me,  if  I  am  willing 
to  be  helped  /"  It  occurred  to  me,  that  we  are  often  led,  from  a 
Vain  complacence  in  what  we  call  our  sensibility,  to  indulge  that 
unprofitable  grief  which  both  our  duty  and  our  peace  require  us  to 
resist  to  the  utmost  of  our  power.  I  instantly  said  aloud,  *^  Lord, 
I  am  helpless  indeed  in  myself,  but  I  hope  I  am  willing,  without 
reserve,  that  thou  shouldest  help  me." 

It  had  been  much  upon  my  mind,  from  the  beginning  of  this 
trial,  that  I  was' a  minister,  and  that  the  eyes  of  many  were  upon 
me;  that  my  turn-of  preaching  had  very  much  led  me  to  endeav- 
our to  comfort  the  afflicted,  by  representing  the  Gospel  as  a  ca- 
tholicon,  affording  an  effectual  remedy  for  every  evil,  a  full  com- 
pensation for  every  want  or  loss  to  those  who  truly  receive  it ;  so 
that  though  a  believer  may  be  afflicted,  he  cannot  be  properly  un- 
happy, ouleas  he  gives  way  to  self-will  qjad  unbelief.     1  bad  often 


told  my  bearers  that  a  state  of  trial,  if  rightly  imprdved,  was  to 
the  Christian  a  post  of  honour,  aflbrding  the  fairest  opportunity  of 
exemplifying  the  power  of  divine  grace,  to  the  praise  and  glory 
trf*  the  Giver.  It  had  been,  therefore,  ray  frequent  daily  prayer, 
ihat  I  might  not,  by  impatience  or  despondence,  be  deprived  of 
the  advantage  my  situation  afforded  me,  of  confirming,  by  my  own 
practice,  the  doctrine  which  I  had  preached  to  others^  and  that  I 
might  not  give  them  occasion  to  apply  to  me  the  words  of  Eliphaz 
to  Job,  ch.  IV.  4,  5.  *^  Thy  words  have  upholden  him  that  was 
falling,  and  thou  has  strengthened  the  feeble  knees;  but  now  it  is 
come  onto  thee,  and  thou  feintest ;  it  toucheth  thee,  and  thoa  art 
troubled !''  And  I  had  not  prayed  in  vain.  But  from  the  time 
that  I  so  remstrkably  felt  tnyselttoittii^  to  be  helped^  I  might  truly 
say,  to  the  praise  of  the  Lord,  **  My  heart  trusted  in  Him,  and  I 
was  helped''  indeed.  Through  the  whole  of  my  painful  trial,  I 
attended  all  my  stated  and  occasional  services,  as  usual ;  and  k 
stranger  would  scarcely  have  discovered,  either  by  my  words  or 
looks,  that  1  was  in  trouble.  Many  of  our  intimate  friends  were 
af^rehensive  that  this  long  affliction,  and  especially  the  closing 
event,  would  have  overwhelmed  me ;  but  it  was  far  otherwise.  It 
did  not  prevent  me  from  preaching  a  single  sermon,  and  I  preach«- 
ed  on  the  day  of  her  death* 

After  she  was  gone,  my  willingness  to  be  helped,  and  my  desire 
diat  the  Lord's  goodness  to  me  might  be  observed  by  others,  for 
their  encouragement,  made  me  indifferent  to  some  laws  of  estab^ 
lished  custom,  the  breach  of  which  is  often  more  noticed  than  the 
violsidon  of  God's  commands.  I  was  afraid  of  sitting  at  home, 
and  indulging  myself  by  poring  over  my  loss;  and  therefore  - 
waS'Seen  in  the  street,  and  visited  some  of  ray  serious  friends  the 
very  next  day*  I  likewise  preached  three  times  while  she  lay  dead 
in  the  house.  Some  of  my  brethren  kindly  offered  their  assist- 
ance ;  but  as  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  give  me  strength,  both  of 
body  and  mind,  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  stand  up  in  my  place  as 
formerly.  And  after  she  was  deposited  in  the  vault,  1  preached 
'  her  funeral  sermon,*  with  little  more  sensible  emotion  than  if  it 
bad  been  for  another  person.  I  have  reasdn  to  hope  that  many  of 
my  hearers  were  comforted,  and  animated  under  their  afflictions, 
by  what  they  saw  of  the  Lord's  goodness  to  me  in  my  time  of 
*  need.  And  I  acknowledge  that  it  was  well  worth  standing'  a 
while  in  the  fire,  for  such  an  opportunity  of  experiencing  and.  ex- 
hibiting the  power  and  faithfulness  of  his  promises. 

I  was  not  supported  by  lively  sensible  consolations,  but  by  be* 
ing  enabled  to  realize  to  my  mind  some  great  and  leading  troths 

*  From  a  text  which  I  had  reserved,  firom  my  Arst  entrance  into  theaiiiiisttff 
fOj  Ms  pvHctflv  torvice,  if  I  should  survive  ber,-  and  be.aMe  to^jpoifc* 


213  jLffEumxj 

of  the  won!  of  God.  I  ^aw,  what  indeed  I  knew  before,  hot  never 
dll  then  so  strongly  and  clearly  perceived,  that,  as  a  sinner,  I  bad 
no  right,  and,  as  a  believer,  I  could  have  no  reason  to.  complain. 
I  considered  her  as  a  loan,  which  He  who  lent  her  to  me  had 
a  right  to  resnme  whenever  be  pleased ;  and  that  as  I  had  deserv- 
ed to  forfeit  her  every  day  from  the  first,  it  became  me  rather  to 
be  thankful  that  she  was  spared  to  me  so  long,  than  to  resign  her 
with  reluctance  when  called  for.  Further,  that  his  sovereignty 
was  connected  with  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness ;  and  that  con- 
sequently, if  it  were  possible  for  me  to  alter  any  part  of  his  plan, 
I  could  only  spoil  it^-**tbat  such  a  short-sighted  creature  as  I,  so 
blind  to  the  possible  consequences  of  my  own  wishes,  was  not  only 
unworthy,  but  unable  to  choose  well  for  myself;  and  that  it  was 
therefore  my  great  mercy  and  privilege  that  the  Lord  condescend- 
ed to  choose  for  me.  May  such  consideraUoos  powerfully  affect 
the  hearts  of  my  readers  under  their  troubles,  and  then  1  shall 
not  regret  having  submitted  to  the  view  of  the  public,  a  detail 
which  may  seem  more  proper  for  the  subject  of  a  private  letter  to 
a  friend.  They  who  can  feel  for  me,  will,  I  hope,  excuse  me. 
And  it  is  chiefly  for  their  sakes  that  I  have  written  it. 

When  my  wife  died  the  world  seemed  to  die  with  her,  (I  hope 
to  revive  no  more.)  I  see  little  now,  but  my  ministry  and  my 
Christian  profession,  to  make  a  continuance  in  life,  for  a  single 
day,  desirable ;  though  I  am  willing  to  wait  my  appointed  time. 
If  the  world  cannot  restore  her  to  me,  (not  that  I  have  the  remot- 
est wish  that  her  return  was  possible.)  it  can  do  nothing  for  me. 
The  Bank  of  England  is  too  poor  to  compensate  for  such  a  loss 
as  mine.  But  the  Lord,  the  all-sufficient  God  speaks,  and  it  is 
done.  Let  those  who  know  him,  and  trust  him,  be  of  good  con* 
rage.  He  can  give  them  strength  according  to  their  day  9  he 
can  increase  their  strength  as  their  trials  are  increased,  to  any  as- 
signable degree.  And  what  be  can  do,  he  has  proaiised  he  will 
do.  The  power  and  faithfulness  on  which  the  successive  chan- 
ges of  day  and  night,  and  of  the  seasons  of  the  year,  depend,  and 
which  uphold  the  stars  in  their  orbits,  is  equally  engaged  to  sup- 
port his  people,  and  to  lead  them  safely  and  unhurt  (if  their  path 
be  so  appointed,)  through  ftooda  and  flames.  Though  1  believe 
ehe  has  never  yet  been  (and  probably  never  will  be)  out  of  my 
waking  thoughts  for  five  minutes  at  a  time ;  though  I  sleep  in  the 
bed  in  which  she  suffered  and  languished  so  long ;  I  have  not  had 
one  uncomfortable  day,  nor  one  restless  night,  since  she  lefk  me* 
I  have  lost  a  right  hands  which  I  cannot  but  miss  continually,  but 
the  Lord  enables  me  to  go  on  cheerfully  without  it 

May  his  blessing  rest  upon  the  reader !  May  glory,  honour, 
and  praise  be  ascribed  to  his  great  and  holly  name)  now  and  fof 
ever!  Amen. 


No.  n- 

VERSBS  SUNG  AFTER  HER  FUNERAL  SERMON. 

Habak.  lii.  17, 18. 

JBOuntgh  (hef!g'trte  shall  not  NoMom,  ndther  shaUfruti  he  in  the  vine$  ;  ihe 
labour  tf  the  oHve  shall faUj  and  ike  JUlds shall  yiddno  meal;  thejloeks 
shall  be  ml  off  from  the/old,  and  then  shall  be  no  herd  in  the  stalls ;  yet  I 
ioill  r^oicein  the  Lordf  1  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my  salvation. 

1  The  earth  mth  rich  abundance  stor'd 
To  answer  all  our  wants^ 
Invites  our  hearts  to  praise  the  Lord, 
For  what  his  bounty  grants. 

3  Flocks,  herds,  and  corn,  and  grateful  fruity 
"^  His  gracious  hand  supplies ; 

And  while  our  various  tastes  they  suit, 
Their  prospect  cheers  our  eyes. 

3  To  these  he  adds  each  tender  tie 

Of  sweet  domestic  life ; 
Endearing  joys,  the  names  imply. 
Of  parent,  husband  wife ! 

4  But  sin  has  poisoned  all  below, 

Our  blessings  burdens  prove ; 
On  ev'ry  hand  we  suffer  wo, 
But  most  where  most  we  love. 

5  Nor  vintage,  harvest,  flocks,  nor  herds^ 

Can  fill  the  heart's  desire  ; 
And  oft  a  worm  destroys  our  gourds, 
And  all  our  hopes  expire. 

6  Domestic  J<oys,  alas  !  how  rare ! 

Possessed  and  known  by  few  ! 
And  they  who  know  them,  find  they  are 
As  frail  and  transient  too. 


214  APPENDIX. 

7  Bat  you,  who  love  the  Saviour's  voicei 

Aod  rest  upon  bis  name, 
Amidst  these  changes  may  rejoice, 
For  he  is  still  the  same. 

8  The  Lord  himself  will  soon  appear, 

Whom  you,  unseen,  adore ; 
Then  he  will  wipe  off  ev'ry  tear^ 
And  you  shall  weep  no  more. 


No.  in 
EBENEZEft; 

A  MEMORIAL  OP  THE  UNCHiLNCEABLE  GOODNESS  QF  GOD  CNDeR 
CILINGIMG  DISPENSATIONS. 

No.  I. 

Writttn  on  Feb.   12,   1776.— Tic  TtPcniy-Jifth  Jtnpmrsary  <rf 
our  Marriage. 

THE  LORD   GAVE. 

1  For  what  this  day  recalls  to  mind 

My  praise  to  God  is  due ; 
How  maDy  blessings  he  design'd 
To  give,  in  giving  you. 

2  When  hateful,  hating,  and  forlorn, 

In  Afric^s  wilds  I  stray'd ; 
His  hand  secured  oiy  saft  retur^^ 
But  you  the  mean  was  made. 

3  How  little,  then,  couI(]  be  forct^een 

My  path  in  future  life  ! 
But  he  preparM  each  following  s<;ene, 
By  making  you  my  wife. 

4  The  happy  day  that  Join'd  our  hands 

(Sweet  prelude  to  his  grace,) 
More  firm  in  my  remembrance  stands 
Than  if  engrav'd  in  brass. 

'  5  But,  ah  !  my  heart,  by  sin  betray'd, 
(How  painfiU  is  the  thought.) 
Soon  of  the  gift  an  idol  made, 
Tlie  Giver  soon  forgot.. 


216  APPENDIX. 

6  How  josdy  might  some  sadden  torn 
Have  parted  us  again  ; 
And  left  my  guilty  soul  to  mount 
In  agony  and  pain  ! 

T  But  though  we  both,  and  chiefly  I, 
For  good  have  render'd  ill, 
His  mercy  hath  been  always  nigh, 
His  hand  preserves  us  still. 

8  With  mutual  love,  and  peace,  and  health, 

And  friends,  we  have  been  blest ; 
And  if  not  what  the  world  calls  wtalth^ 
We  have  enough  possessed* 

9  From  place  to  place,  from  year  to  year, 

The  Lord  has  been  our  guide  ; 
Our  sure  resource  in  time  of  fear, 
When  all  has  failM  beside. 

10  Thus  five-and-twenty  years  the  sun 

Has  trod  his  annual  path  ; 
And  we  apace  are  posting  on 
To  meet  the  stroke  of  death  ! 

1 1  Sure,  none  a  happier  life  have  known, 

Than  ours,  thus  far  hath  beeb  ; 
But  could  we  covet,  now  His  gone. 
To  Kve  it  o*er  again  ? 

12  Like  checkered  cloth,  the  warp  with  love 

And  comfort  has  been  spread  ; 
But  cares  and  crosses,  interwove, 
Have  furnish'd  half  the  thread. 

13  Yes!  even  we,  who  so  much  joy, 

So  much  endearment,  know, 
Have  found  that  something  will  annoy 
And  tarnish  all  below  ! 

14  Yet  ev'ry  cross  a  mercy  is, 

A  blessing  every  thorn, 
That  tells  us,  her^  is  not  our  bliss. 
We  were  for  nobler  born. 


APPEI^DIX.  217 


15  That  I  am  hers,  and  she  is  mine, 

-Invites  my  feeble  lays  ; 
But,  Saviour,  that  we  both  are  thine, 
Demands  my  highest  praise. 

16  With  thee,  dear  Lord,  who  rnlest  all, 

The  wise  appointment  lies, 

To  which  of  us  the  lot  must  fall, 

To  close  the  other's  eyes  ! 

1 7  Then  all  our  intercourse  while  here, 

(How  happy,  and  how  kind  !) 
Will  like  a  fleeting  dream  appear, 
Which  leaves  no  trace  behind. 

18  Prepare  us,  ev'ry  day  we  live. 

For  that  important  hour ; 
And  when,  at  length  it  shall  arrive, 
Support  us  by  thy  pow'r. 

19  Who  first  departs,  may  thy  kind  smile 

Strengthen  with  joy  to  go ; 
And  the  survivor  reconcile 
To  stay  awhile  below. 

20  Then,  may  it  seem  of  little  weight,' 

Which  of  us  goes  before ; 
Assur'd  that  we  shall  shortly  meet 
To  part  again  no  more.  • 

21  Ob,  with  what  wonder,  joy,  and  praise^ 

Our  souls  shall  then  review 
The  snares  and  mercies  of  the  ways 
We  were  I'.onducted  throughi 


>'0L.  IV.  H 


No.  2. 

Written  on  December  15,  1791. — The  First  Anniversary  of  her 
Dismission  from  this  State  of  Sin  and  Sorrow. 

THE  LORD  HATH  TAKEN  AWAY.    BLESSED  B&  THE  19AME  OF 
THE  LORD 

S  Cor.  i.  S«  4. 

SUssed  he  Gody  even  the  Faiher  qfaur  Lord  Jesus  Christy  ihe  Father  ^  Mer^ 
cies,  and  the  God  of  aU  Contort ;  who  cofi\forleth  us  in  all  our  iribulationp 
thai  toe  may  be  owe  Id  contort  them  which  are  in  any  trouble,  by  the  amifofi 
wherewith  we  ourselves  are  comforted  of  God, 

1  Lord  !  she  was  thine,  and  not  my  own, 

Thou  hast  not  done  me  wrong ; 
I  thank  thee  for  the  precious  loan 
Afforded  me  so  long. 

2  For  though  no  single  day  has  been. 

Or  talent,  well  improvM ; 
I  chiefly  see,  and  mourn,  my  sin 
In  what  I  chiefly  lov'd. 

3  I  trembled,  when  thou  saidst  "  Resign 

"  A  much-abused  trust ;'' 
But  could  not  wonder,  or  repine  ;, 
I  own'd  the  sentence  just. 

4  Yet  mercy  sweeten'd  my  distress , 

And,  while  I  felt  the  rod, 
Gave  me  a1)undant  cause  to  bless 
An  all-sufiicient  God  I 

5  Sharp  was  my  pain,  and  deep  my  wound, 

(A  wound  which  still  must  bleed,) 
But  daily  health  and  strength  I  found, 
Proportioned  to  my  need. 

6  Like  Jonah,  (well  our  stories  suit^ 

I  view'd  my  gourd,  wellpleasa ; 
Like  him,  I  could  not  see  the  root 
On  which  the  worm  had  sei^^d. 


7  But  saw,  at  length,  the  hour  draw  nigh 

(That  hour  I  since  have  known) 
When  all  my  earthly  joy  must  die, 
And  I  be  left  alone* 

8  She  dropped  a  tear,  and  grasp'd  my  hand, 

And  fam  she  would  have  spoke  ; 
But  well  my  heart  could  understand 
The  language  of  her  look* 

9  Farewell,  it  meant  a  last  adieu ! 

I  soon  shall  cease  from  pam ; 
This  silent  tear  I  drop  for  you ; 

We  part — to  meet  again. 

< 

10  I  said,  '^  If  leaving  all  beloir, 

"  You  now  have  peace  divine  ; 
'^  And  would,  but  cannot,  tell  me  so, 
"  Give  me,  at  least,  a  sign*^ 

1 1  She  raised,  and  gently  wavM  her  hand, 

And  filPd  me  with  a  joy, 
To  which  the  wealth  of  sea  and  land 
Compar'd,  were  but  a  toy. 

12  I  trust,  indeed,  she  knew  thy  grace 

Before  this  tryine  day  ; 
But  Satan  had,  a  while,  access, 
To  fill  her  with  dismay. 

13  Till  then,  through  two  long  yoars  she  piti'd^ 

Without  an  hour  of  ease  ; 
Cheerful  she  still  appeared,  resigned, 
And  bore  her  cross  in  peace. 

14  Daily,  while  able,  clpsely  too, 

She  read  the  word  of  God ; 
And  thence  her  hope  and  comfort  drew, 
Her  med'cine  and  her  food. 

15  A  stranger  might  have  well.presumM 

From  what  he  saw  her  bear; 
This  burning  bush  was  not  consumed, 
Because  the  Lord  was  there. 

16  Three  days,  she  could  no  notice  take, 

Nor  speak,  nor  hear,  nor  see ; 
O  Lotd,  did  not  my  heart-strings  ache  2 
Did  not  I  cry  to-thee; 


220  APPENDIX* 

1 7  That  while  t  watchM  her,  night  and  day, 

My  will  to  thine  might  bow  ? 
And,  by  this  rod,  didst  thou  not  say, 
^^  Behold  your  idol  now ! 

18  "  From  her  you  lovM  too  much,  proceed 

"  Your  sharpest  grief  and  pains ; 
'^  For,  soon  or  late,  the  heart  must  bleed 
"  That  idols  entertains." 

19  Yes,  Lord,  we  both  have  guilty  been. 

And  justly  are  distressed ; 
But  since  thou  dost  forgive  our  sin^, 
I  welcome  all  the  rest. 

20  Only  uphold  us  in  the  fire, 

Our  fainting  spirits  cheer ; 
And  I  thy  mercy  will  adm'u*e 
When  most  thou  seem'st  severe. 

2!  Fainter,  her  breath,  and  fainter  grew, 
Until  she  breathM  her  last ; 
The  soul  was  gone  before  we  knevr 
The  stroke  of  death  was  past. 

23  Soft  was  the  moment,  and  serene, 

That  all  her  sufi'rings  closM 
No  agony  or  struggle  seen, 
No  feature  discomposed  : 

2^  The  parting  Sitru^gle  all  was  mine  ; 
"  'Tis  the  survivor  dies  :'' 
For  she  was  freed,  and  gone  to  join 
The  triumph  of  the  skies. 

24  To  me  it  was  a  stormy  day, 

Though  glad  for  her  release  ; 
But  he  whom  seas  and  storms  obey, 
Soon  bid  the  tempest  cease. 

25  My  selfish  heart  had  wishM  her  here. 

To  spend  her  days  in  pain  ; 
That  she  what  I  could  say  might  hear^ 
And  speak  to  me  again. 

26"  Our  kindness  to  our  suffering  friends 
Would  keep  them  still  below ; 
But  He  who  loves  them  better,  sends, 
And  at  his  call  they  go. 


APPXNDKK, 

97  Each  moment,  since  that  trying  hour. 
My  loss  I  keenly  feel ; 
But  trust  I  feel  my  Saviour's  pow'r 
To  sanctify  and  heal* 

3S  Ah,  world,  vain  world  !  by  whom  my  Lord 
Was  crucifi'd  and  slain, 
What  comfort  now  canst  thou  afibrd 
To  mitigate  my  pain  ? 

29  Long  since,  I  should,  by  his  dear  cros.s 

Have  learnt  to  die  to  thee  ; 
But  if  I  learn  it  by  my  loss, 
That  loss  Iny  gain  will  be. 

30  Now,  Lord,  to  thee  I  would  apply, 

On  thee  alone  depend  ; 
Thou  art,  when  creatures  fail  and  dies 
An  ever-living  friend ! 

31  Now  thou  hast  made  a  void  within, 

Which  only  thou  canst  fill ; 
Oh!  grant  me  pardon  of  my  sin^ 
And  grace  to  do  thy  will. 

32  That  I  with  joy  thy  flock  may  feed, 

A  pattern  to  them  be, 
And  comfort  them  in  time  of  need. 
Vouchsafe  to  comfort  me. 

33  Let  me  believe,  and  love,  and  praise, 

And  wonder,  and  adore. 
And  view  thee  guiding  all  my  ways  ; 
,    I  ask  for  noth'mg  more. 

34  To  thee  I  would  commit  the  rest ; 

The  when,  the  bow,  the  where, 
Thy  yisdom  will  determine^best, 
Without  my  anxious  care. 

35  May  I  with  faith  and  patience  wait, 

For  soon  thy  call  will  come  ; 
When  I  shall  change  this  mortal  stat^ 
For  an  eternal  home. 

36  The  vails  of  sin  and  unbelief 

Shall  then  be  rent  in  twain  ; 
And  they  who  parted  here  with  grief^ 
Shall  meet,  with  joy,  again. 


232  APPxnDtt. 

37  Then  wilt  the  Lord  himself  appear 

With  all  his  blood-bought  sheep, 
To  wipe  from  ev'ry  face  the  tear, 
And  they  no  more  shall  weep. 

38  May  thoughts  like  these  relieve  my  (oil, 

And  cheer  my  spirit  up ! 
Who  would  not  suffer  here  a  while, 
For  such  a  glorious  hope  ? 


No   IV. 

SECOND  ANNIVERSART  OF  THE  16TH  DECEBIBER,  1792: 

1  While  grace  her  balm,  to  soothe  my  pain 

And  heal  my  wound,  applies ; 
To  make  it  throb  and  bleed  again, 

Officious  memory  tries. 
Too  well  she  knows  each  tender  string 

That  twines  about  my  hearty 
And  how  to  fix  a  piercing  sting 

In  the  most  feehng  part ! 

*    2^  May  I  not  yet  some  respite  take 

From  dwelling  on  her  death  ? 
Did  I  not  feel  her  heart-strings  break, 

And  watch  her  last  drawn  breath  ? 
Oh !  cease,  at  leneth,  to  haunt  my  mind 

With  images  of  ^ef ; 
Canst  thou  no  pleasing  topics  find 

To  yield  me  some  relief? 

St  But  as  a  sieve  the  bran  retains, 

And  lets  the  floor  fall  through, 
So  carefiil  memory  keeps  my  pains 

And  loss  in  constant  view ; 
While  comforts,  countless  as  the  sands, 

Which  crown  my  favoured  lot, 
Though  each  my  warmest  praise  demands, 

Are  heedlessly  forgot. 

4  And  can  I  then  forget  the  times. 
When  helpless,  hopeless,  lost, 
I  pinM  in  miseries  and  crimes, 
On  Afric's  horrid  coast  f 


▲ppftNBix.  333 

To  Christ,  my^  Lord,  a  daring  foe, 

To  men  a  wretched  slave ; 
Tet,  on  that  brink  of  endless  wo, 

He  show'd  his  power  to  save. 

5  His  mercy,  though  by  me  misought. 

Kept  me  from  falling  in  ; 
His  arm  my  full  deliverance  wrought, 

His  grace  forgave  my  sin. 
He  taught  my  base,  blaspheming  tongue 

To  aim  at  pray'r  and  praise  ; 
Became  my  shield,  and  strength,  and  song, 

And  guided  all  my  ways. 

6  Thus,  freed  from  misery  and  death. 

My  sorrow  changed  to  joy  ; 
He  sent  me  forth  to  preach  the  faith 

I  laboured  to  destroy. 
His  mercies,  through  my  future  life, 

Were  new  from  day  to  day; 
The  chief  of  all,  was  that  dear  wife 

He  since  has  calPd  away. 

7  Shall  one  so  favour'd  e'er  repine  ? 

Or  one  so  vile  complain? 
No— -let  me  praise-^she  long  was  mine, 

And  shall  be  mine  again. 
If  death  could  break  our  union  past, 

(Frail,  though  endear'd  the  tie,) 
The  stronger  band  of  grace  shall  last, 

When  death  itself  shall  die  ! 


ADVERTISEMENT 

TO  THE  LAST  LONDON  EDITION. 


The  Executors  of  the  late  Rjbv.  John  Nbwton  feel  highly  grati- 
fied in  presenting  to  the  public  a  complete  edition  of  his  wi^ks. 

The  greater  part  of  the  present  volume  consists  of  letters,  intended  by 
the  Author  as  a  continuation  of  Cardipho'nia.  These  were  selected  by 
himself,  and  transcribed  under  his  own  direction,  and  some  of  them  very 
carefully  revised.  The  Executors  would  gladly  have  availed  themselves 
of  the  kind  offers  of  his  correspondents  to  increase  the  collection,  but 
could  not  consistently  with  the  injunction  of  their  revered  Friend,  who 
expressly  desired  that  none  might  be  printed  except  those  which  were 
selected  during  his  life-time. 

The  remainder  of  this  volume  is  occupied  partly  by  papers  extracted, 
according  to  the  Author's  direction,  from  Periodical  Publications ;  and 
partly  by  small  pieces  printed  during  his  life,  but  never  before  collected, 
and  concerning  which  no  instructions  were  given  by  the  deceased. 

THRSE   PIECES   ARE, 

A  Sermon,  preached  on  a  public  occasion,  in  the  year  1800. 

Thoughts  upon  the  African  Slave  Trade. 

Addresses  to  the  Inhabitants  of  Olney,  and  St.  Mary  Woolnoth^  Lou* 

don.     And 
A  Letter  on  Political  Debate. 

Tlie  Thoughts  on  the  African  Slave  Trade  may  appear  to  some  a  tem- 
porary publication,  but  the  Executors  regard  it  as  an  important  historical 
document,  by  one  who  had  been  pers6nally  engaged  in  the  traffic,  and 
was  well  acquainted  with  its  horrors  ;  as  such  it  will  be  read  with  interest 
by  posterity. 

The  Addresses  to  the  Inhabitants  of  Olney  and  St.  Mary  Woolooth, 
show  the  Author's  earnest  and  constant  attention  to  the  eternal  interests 
of  all  his  parishoners ;  and  at  the  same  time  furnish  useful  examples  t6 
^ergyroen,  of  the  different  means  which  may  be  used  to  pronfote  the  wet* 
fare  of  their  people,  and  of  the  different  style  and  manner  of  address 
which  may  be  adopted. 

Vol.  IV.  2d 


226  ADVEBTISEBIENT. 

The  Letter  on  Political  Debate,  is  part  of  a  friendly  correspondence 
which  took  place  between  the  Author  and  a  Minister  in  the  country  in 
the  year  1793.  It  contains  some  important  and  interesting  considera- 
tions on  the  subject,  and  was  therefore  deemed  worthy  of  preservation. 

These  are  all  the  workfc  published  or  prepared  for  the  press  by  the 
Author,  excepting  only  the  Life  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Grimshaw,  the  copy- 
right of  which  was  given  to  the  society  fob  relieving  poor  pious  clebt 

OTHBN  or  THE  ESTABLISHED  CHURCH. 

The  Execmors  commend  the  whole  to  the  blessing  of  Almighty  God', 
calling  upon  every  reader  to  unite  with  them  in  fervent  prayer  that  God 
would  raise  up  many,  who,  like  his  departed  servant,  may  be  examples 
to  the  believers  in  word,  in  conversation,  in  charity,  in  spirit,  in 

FAITH,  IN  PURITY 


TO  VARIOUS  PERSONS, 

INTENDED  AS  A  SEQUEL 

TO 

CARDIPHONIA. 


EIGHTEEN  LETTERS 

TO 

SEVERAL  LADIES. 

LETTER  I. 

To  Miss  M**»*. 

September  10,  1760. 
Dear  Madav, 

I  ADDRESS  my  letter  to  you,  but  consider  myself  as  writing 
to  the  whole  ef  the  little  society  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  at 
your  house,  and  at  Miss  K^^^^'s.  I  still  reflect  with  pleasure  on 
the  opportunities  I  was  favoured  with  among  you :  and  if,  as  1 
hope,  my  little  visits. were  not  unacceptable  to  each  or  any  of  yon, 
let  us  not  lose  a  moment  in  apologies  or  compliments  to  each  oth- 
er, but  refer  the  whole  praise  where  it  is  wholly  due.  Salvation, 
in  its  whole  extent,  and  in  each  particular  step,  is  of  the  Lord. 
Though  we  can  but  lisp  a  little  word  about  his  goodness,  yet 
when  he  is  pleased  to  be  near  us,  his  presence  and  blessing  can 
work  by  the  meanest  instruments,  and  cause  our  hearts  to  burn 
within  us.  On  the  other  hand,  when  he  withdraws,  we  can  no 
more  help  each  other  than  we  can  help  ourselves :  then,  the  very 
best  of  us  prove  miserable  comforters,  fruitless  teachers,  and  blind 
guides.  Could  1  bring  my  heart  to  this  point,  to  regard  myself 
as  insufficient  to  think  one  good  thought,  or  to  speak  one  pro6ta- 
ble  word,  any  further  than  as  influenced  by  that  enlivening  Spirit 
wliich  Jesus  is  exalted  on  high  to  bestow,  I  should  be  well ;  bat, 
Idas !  1  am  often  hurt  by  a  fond  desire  of  being  or  doing  some^ 
thing  considerable ;  and  this,  so  often  as  it  prevails,  like  a  suddep 
fatal  blast,  spoils  my  fairest  blooming  prospects  of  comfort  and 
ttsefalness.  It  is  a  great  point  to  be  constant  and  diligent  in  the 
use  of  all  appointed  means,  and  yet  to  have  our  souls  waiting  only 
upon  God,  in  a  deep  persuasion  t|^at  neither  the  best  means,  nor 
the  closest  attendance  upon  them,  can  do  any  thing  for  us  in  themr 
selves ;  and  that  nothing  short  of  renewed  communications  from 
him,  can  either  satisfy  or  sanctify  our  hearts. 

The  best  advice  I  can  send,  or  the  best  wish  I  can  form  for 
you,  is,  that,  you  may  have  an  abiding  and  experimental  sense  of 


230  TO  MISS  M****.  [Let.  1. 

those  words  of  the  apostle  which  are  jast  now  upon  my  miod— 
'^  Looking  unto  Jesus."  The  duty,  the  privilege,  the  safety, 
4he  unspeakable  happiness  of  a  believer,  are  all  comprised  io  that 
one  sentence.  Let  us  first  pray  that  the  eyes  of  our  faith,  and  un*- 
derstanding  may  be  opened  and  strengthened ;  and  then  let  as  fix 
our  whole  regard  upon  him.  But  how  are  we  to  behold  him  ?  I 
answer,  in  the  glass  of  his  written  word ;  there  he  is  represented 
to  us  in  a  variety  of  views  ;  the  wicked  world  can  see  no  form 
nor  comeliness  in  the  portraiture  be  has  given  of  himself;  yet, 
blessed  be  Qod,  there  are  those  who  can  "  behold  his  glory,  as 
the  glory  of  the  only  begotten  Son  of  Grod,  full  of  grace  and 
truth ;"  and  while  they  behoM  it,  they  find  themselves  ''  changed 
into  the  same  image,  from  glory  to  glory,"  by  the  transforming 
influence  of  his  Spirit.  In  vain  we  oppose  reasonings,  and  arga- 
ments,  and  resolutions,  to  beat  down  our  corruptions,  and  to  si- 
lence our  fears ;  but  a  believing  view  of  Jesus  does  the  business. 
When  heavy  trials  in  life  are  appointed  us,  and  we  are  called  to 
give  up,  or  perhaps  to  pluck  out  a  right  eye,  it  is  an  easy  matter 
for  a  stander-by  to  say,  "  Be  comforted  ;"  and  it  is  as  useless  as 
easy — but  a  view  of  Jesus  by  fiiith,  comes  home  to  the  point. 
When  we  can  fix  our  thoughts  upon  him,  as  laying  aside  all  his 
honours,  and  submitting,  for  our  sakes,  to  drink  off  the  bitter  cup*' 
of  the  wrath  of  God  to  the  very  dregs ;  and  when  we  further  con- 
sider, that  he  who  thus  suffered  in  our  nature,  who  knows  and 
sympathizes  with  all  our  weakness,  is  now  the  supreme  disposer  of 
all  that  concerns  us,  that  he  numbers  the  very  hairs  of  our  head«, 
appoints  every  trial  we  meet  with  in  number,  weight,  and  meas- 
ure, and  will  suffer  nothing  to  befall  us  but  what  shall  contribute 
to  our  good-*-this  view,  I  say,  is  a  medicine  suited  to  the  disease, 
and  powerfully  reconciles  us  unto  every  cross.  So,  when  a  sense 
of  sin  prevails,  and  the  tempter  is  permitted  to  assault  U0  with 
dark  and  dreadful  suggestions,  it  is  easy  for  us  to  say,  ^*  Be  not 
afraid ;"  but  those  who  have  tried,  well  know,  that  looking  to  Je^ 
8U8  is  the  only  and  sure  remedy  in  this  case — if  we  can  get  a  sight 
of  him  by  fiiith,  as  he  once  hung  between  the  two  thieves,  and  as 
he  now  pleads  within  the  vail,  then  we  can  defy  sin  and  Satan, 
and  give  our  challenge  in  the  apostle's  words,  "  Who  is  he  that 
condemneth  }  It  is  Christ  that  died,  yea,  rather,  that  is  risen 
again;  who  also  maketh  intercession  for  us:"  Rom.  viii.  34. 
Again,  are  we  almost  afraid  of  being  swallowed  up  by  oar  many 
restless  enemies ;  or,  are  we  almost  weary  of  our  long  pilgrimage 
through  such  a  thorny,  tedious,  barren  wilderness  ?  A  tight  of  Je» 
8U8,  as  Stephen  saw  him,  crowned  with  glory,  yet  noticing  all  the 
sufferings  of  his  poor  servants,  and  just  ready  to  receive  them  to 
himself,  and  make  them  partakers  of  his  everlasting  joy,  this  will 


Let  8.]  TO  MISS  M****.  231 

misetbe  spiritSi  and  restore  stnsngth ;  this  will  animate  as  to  hold  on, 
and  to  bold  ont;  this  will  do  it,  and  nothing  but  this  can^  So,  if 
obedience  be  the  thing  in  qnestion,  looking  anto  Jesus  is  the  object 
that  melts  the  soul  into  love  and  gratitude,  and  those  who  greatly 
love,  and  are  greatly  obliged^  find  obedience  easy.  When  Jesus  is 
upon  our  thoughts,  e^her  in  his  humbled  or  his  exalted  state,  either 
as  bleeding  on  the  cross,  or  as  worshipped  in  our  nature  by  all 
the  host  of  heaven,  then  we  can  ask  the  apostle's  question  with  a 
becoming  disdain,  *^  Shall  we  continue  in  sin  that  grace  may 
abound  f "  God  forbid.  What !  shall  I  sin  against  my  Lord,  my 
love,  my  friend,  who  once  died  for  my  sins,  and  now  lives  and 
reigns  on  my  behalf:  who  supports,  and  leads,  and  guides,  and 
feeds  me  every  day  }  God  forbid.  No ;  rather  I  would  wish  for 
a  thousand  hands,  and  eyes,  and  feet,  and  tongues,  for  ten  tfaou<* 
sand  lives,  that  I  might  devote  them  all  to  bis  service  :  he  should 
have  all  then ;  and  surely  he  shall  have  all  now !  Alas,  that  in 
spite  of  myself  there  still  remains  something  that  resists  his  will ! 
bat  I  long  and  pray  for  its  destruction,  and  I  see  a  day  coming 
when  my  wish  shall  be  accomplished,  and  I  shall  be  wholly  and 
for  ever  the  Lord's.  I  am  your  affectionanate  servant. 


LETTER  IT. 
To  Miss  M****. 

jlVovember2j  1761. 
My  Dear  Sister, 

YoTK  letter  was  welcome  and  comfortable.  I  praise  the 
Lord  on  your  behalf,  and  shall  not  cease  to  pray, "  that  you  may 
be  filted  with  his  will  in  all  wisdom  and  spiritual  understanding  ;** 
that  you  may  go  on  '^  to  adorn  the  doctrine  of  God  our  Saviour  in 
all  things ;"  anc^that  a  sense  of  his  presence  and  power  "  who  so 
loved  us  as  to  wash  us  from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood,'^  may  be 
your  establishment,  and  strength,  and  comfort,  continually.  You 
have  reason,  indeed,  to  praise  him,  and  so  have  I,  O  what  a  won- 
der of  grace,  that  he  should  say  to  those  who  were  children  of 
wrath,  "  Behold,  I  go  to  my  Father,  and  to  your  Father,  to  my 
God,  and  to  your  God."  Henceforth  I  call  you  not  servants,  but 
friends ;"  and  as  a  proof  of  it,  ^*  Ask  what  you  will,  and  it  shall 
be  done  onto  you."  Here  are  words  sufficient  either  to  raise  oiir 
souls  up  to  heaven,  or  to  bring  heaven  down  into  our  soul,  accord- 
ing to  that  glorious  promise  which  to  many  is  fulfilled  even  in 
our  day.    Rev.  zxi*  3. 


232  to  MISS  M****.  [Let*  2. 

Let  us  not  be  greatly  discoaraged  at  the  many  tribulations,  dif- 
Realties,  and  disappointments  which  lie  in  the  path  that  leads  to 
glory  :  seeing  our  Lord  has  told  us  before  ;  has  made  a  suitable 
provision  for  every  case  we  can  meet  with,  and  is  himself  always 
near  to  those  that  call  upon  him ;  a  sure  refage,  aH  almighty 
strength,  a  never-failing,  ever-present  help  |p  every  time  of  trou- 
ble ;  seeing,  likewise,  that  he  himself  was  a  man  of  sorrow  and 
acquainted  with  grief  for  our  sakes.  He  drank  off  the  full  cup  of 
unmixed  wreath  for  us  ;  shall  we  then  refuse  to  taste  of  the  cup  of 
affliction  at  his  appointment  ?  especially  when  his  wisdom  and 
love  prepare  it  for  us,  and  proportion  every  circumstance  to  our 
strength  ;  when  he  puts  it  into  our  hands,  not  in  anger,  but  in 
tender  mercy,  to  do  us  good,  to  bring  us  near  to  himself;  and 
when  he  sweetens  every  bitter  draught  with  those  comforts  which 
none  but  he  can  give.  Let  us  rather  say,  None  of  these  things 
move  us,  neither  do  we  count  any  thing  on  this  side  etc^ity  dear, 
so  that  we  may  finish  our  course  with  joy,  and  run  with  patience 
the  race  which  is  set  before  us. 

The  time  is  short : — ^the  world  is  passing  away ;  all  its  cares 
and  all  its  vanities  will  soon  be  at  an  end.  Yet  a  little  while 
and  we  shall  see  him'  who  has  found  a  way  to  make  us  love  him, 
though  we  have  not  yet  beheld  him — *^  we  shall  see  him,  as  he 
i^,"  every  vail  will  be  taken  away,  every  seeming  frown  be  re- 
moved from  his  face,  and  every  tear  wiped  away  from  ours.  We 
fihall  also  be  like  him.  Even  now,  when  we  contemplate  bis 
glory  as  shining  in  the  glass  of  the  Gospel,  we  feel  ourselves, 
in  some  measure,  transformed  into  the  same  image ;  what  a  sud- 
den, wonderful,  and  abiding  change  shall  we  then  experience, 
when  he  shall  shine  directly,  immediately,  and  eternally  upon 
our  souls  without  one  interposing  cloud  betweeen ;  because  he 
lives,  we  shall  live  also : — ^because  he  shines,  we  likewise  shall 
shine  forth  as  the  sun,  in  our  Saviour's  brightness ;  then  shall  we 
sing  with  understanding  those  glorious  songs,  Isaiah,  xii.  Ixi.  10. 
Rev.  V.  9.  and  vii.  10.  without  one  jarring  note,  ^  one  wandering 
thought  for  ever. 

"  Having  therefore  these  promises,  dearly  beloved,  let  us 
cleanse  ourselves  from  all  filthiness  of  flesh  and  spirit,  perfecting 
holiness  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord  :*'  ^^  Let  us  lay  aside  every 
weight ;"  «  Let  us  not  be  slothful,"  but  followers  of  that 
cloud  of  witnesses  who  in  every  age  have  set  their  word  to 
the  truth  and  power  of  God.  They  were  once  as  we  are  now : 
they  had  their  complaints  and  their  fears,  their  enemies  and 
temptations ;  they  were  exercised  with  a  wicked  heart,  and  a 
wicked,  world ;  and  I  doubt  not  but  many  of  them,  in  a  fit  of  un- 
1>elief,  have  been  ready  to  conclude,  "  I  shall  one  day  perish  by 


Let.  2.]  rro  iiiss  m****.  '  333 

the  band  of  Saul ;"  but  at  length,  the  *^  blood  of  Jesas,  and  the 
tvord  of  his  testimony/*  made  them  more  than  conquerors,  and 
now  their  warfare  is  finished,  they  are  "  before  the  throne  of  God 
and  the  Lamb,  and  shall  go  no  more  out."  While  we  are  sigh- 
ing, they  are  singing;  while  we  are  fighting,  they  are  triumph- 
ing ;  but  their  song,  their  triumph,  their  joy,  will  not  be  conk- 
pkte  till  we  are  called  up  to  join  them.  The  Lord  prepare  us 
for,  and  hasten  the  happy  hour. 

The  strain  of  your  present  experience  requires  you,  above  alt 
others,  to  be  humble  and  watchful,  and  1  trust  you  are  so.  How- 
ever, it  is  our  duty  to  exhort  one  another  duly.  One  of  the  great- 
est contradictions  in  human  nature,  and  the  very  strongest  proofs 
of  oar  depravity,  is  that  the  communication  of  extraordinary  mea- 
sures of  cBvine  comforts,  which  in  their  own  nature  have  a  direct 
tendency  t^  bumble,  has,  through  our  corruptions,  sometimes  a 
contrary  effect ;  noiin.the  present  moment,  indeed  that  is  impos- 
-^le,  but  afterward.  Paul  himself  was  liable  to  danger  in  this 
matter.  See  2  Cor.  xii.  7.  You  will  do  well,  therefore  to  en- 
treat the  Lord  to  give  you  a  double  guard  on  this  side,  to  keep 
you  in  continual  remembrance  what  you  were  by  nature,  and 
"what  you  still  are  in  yourselves.  We  are  often  forced  to  buy  this 
vecollection  by  bitter  experience. 

Again,  be  watchful : — ^raany  eyes  are  upon  you.  Satan  envies 
you.  Oh !  he  hates  to  see  any  pcfrsons,  especially  young  persons, 
walking  very  closely  with  God.  So  &r  as  he  is  permitted,  he 
will  spread  snares  for  your  feet  every  hour :  he  desires  to  have 
you,  "  that  he  may  sift  you  as  wheat.''  Further,  the  world  ob- 
serves you;  ma^y  would  rejoice  at  your  lialting;  and  a  little 
thing  in  you  would  give  them  more  pleasure  and  advantage  in  op- 
posing the  t^th,  than  a  greater  slip  in  some  others  who  are  con- 
tent to  plod  on  in  the  common  way.  Nay,  it  is  well  if  there  are 
tfot  some  even  among  yourselves,  professors  and  members^  who 
would  be  glad  to  see  you  brought  down  to  a  level  with  themselves, 
since  they  cannot  persuade  themselves  to  join  and  imitate  you. 
These  things  yon  know  without  my  telling  you,  and  I  do  not  mea- 
dpn  them  to  discourage  you.  No,  were  every  leaf  upon  the 
trees,  and  every  blade  of  grass  a  sworn  enemy  to  our  sonls^  we 
are  safe  under  the  shadow  of  our  great  Rock :  the  blessing  is  his, 
and  he  will  not  withhold  it ;  but  the  appointed  means  are  oipr 
part,  and  it  is  our  wisdom  and  happiness  to  be  found  waiting  op 
him  in  the  use  of  them. 

Vol.  IV.  30 


234  TO  MISS  M****.  [Let.  3. 


LETTER  III. 
To  Miss  M****. 


AprUb.nQl. 


Dear  Mabaak, 

I  DESJRE  to  praise  God  on  yoirr  behalf,  and  frequently  t» 
remember  you  both  at  the  throne  of  grace  ;  I  may  say  each  of 

you,  for,  as  I  understand  Miss  S****  is  now  returned  to  Y ^ 

I  consider  her  as  a  part  of  my  correspondence.  I  hope  the 
Lord  is  with  her  likewise,  and  that  she  can,  by  sweet  experience, 
set  her  seal  to  that  comfortable  truth,  that  all  things,  both  shall, 
and  do,  work  together  for  the  good  of  those  that  love  God. 

Things  continue  much  with  us  as  they  were  when  I  wrote  last. 
For  myself,  I  every  day  have  proof  that  the  Lord  is  gracious, 
merciful,  aad  kind^  I  hope  my  experience  in  some  measure  cor- 
responds with  yours  ;  I  say,  in  some  measure  ;  for  I  think  you 
rather  describe  what  I  would  be  than  what  I  am.  Blessed  be  his 
name  for  a  taste,  though  it  be  but  a  taste,  of  the  water  of  life.  I 
long  for  fuller  draughts,  and  I  trust  he  has  given  me  that  hungering 
and  thirsting  after  his  righteousness  which  shall  at  length  be  sat- 
isfied, and  which  cannot  be  satisfied  with  any  thing  short  of  his 
love.  .  Often  I  cry  out,  "  Dh>!  remember  me  with  the  favour 
thou  bearest  to  thine  own  people.^  I  know  there  are  heights 
and  depths  in  communion  with  God,  to  which  many  of  his  dear 
children  are  admitted,  which  are  far  beyond  my  present  attain- 
ments ;  but  this  rather  encourages  me  than  otherwise ;  for  they 
(even  the  very  best  of  them)  were  once  as  poor  as  myself,  and 
£ave  nothing  now,  any  more  than  I,  that  they  can  call  their 
own  ;  and  he  who  has  done  so  much  for  them,  is  rith  enough  to 
do  as  much  for  me;  the  fountain  of  grace,  though  overflowing 
is  ever  full  ;  and  as  the  sun  shines  as  easily  and  powerfully  on 
ten  thousand,  as  upon  a  single  person,  so  tlie  Sun  of  Righteous- 
ness can  enlighten  and  cbmfort  all  his  children  with  one  single 
glance  of  his  love.  I  desire  to  praise  his  name  for  what  he  has 
already  shown  me,  and  to  hope  in  his  mercy  that  I  shall  yet  "  see 
greater  things  than  these." 

As  I  have  nothing  particular  to  impart  of  my  own,  I  shall  tran- 
scribe part  of  a  letter  I  lately  received  from  a  young  woman  a  rela- 
tion of  mine  in  London.  She  is  not  a  member  of  a  congregational 
church,  but  a  hearer  of  Mr.  Jones.  She  used  to  make  herself  merry 
at  my  expense  for  being  what  She  called  a  Methodist.  After  the 
Lord  awakened  her,  she  walked  three  years  in  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  almost  without  a  glimpse  of  hope.    Hq^  it  is 


Let.  3.]  TO  MI8S  M****.  235 

with  her  now,  I  shall  give  you  in  her  own  words.  She  writes 
thus  among  other  things,  for  I  have  not  time  to  give  yon  ihe 
whole: — 

"  All  the  glory  to'  himself  who  is  worthy  ;  I  find  the  Lord  bet- 
ter to  me  than  ail  my  hopes,  and  all  my  fears.  Thoagh  I  am 
often  beset  with  temptations  of  various  kinds,  from  without  as 
well  as  from  within,  yet  my  gracious  Lord  gives  me  to  wrestle 
with  him  till  he  gets  the  better  for  me,  for  it  is  not  in  me,  I 
know,  and  blessed  be  the  Lord  for  teaching  me,  that  I  aiA 
but  a  poor,  weak,  helpless  creature  ;  but  he  strengthens  me,  and 
blesses  me,  and  gives  me  to  rejoice  in  him  almost  all  the  day  long. 
Though  I  have  not  always  love,  and  joy,  and  peace  alike,  yet  I 
have  not  let  him  go  since  f  wrote  to  you  last.  I  can  hold  him 
iast,  and  I  pray,  and  hope,  and  trust  I  ever  shall.  1  believe  ^  my 
Beloved  is  mine,  and  I  am  his.*  From  what  I  have  found  al- 
ready, I  dare  not  doubt  his  love  or  his  power  :  though,  to  my 
shame  be  it  spoken,  I  too  often  wander  from  my  God,  if  not  in 
word  or  deed,  yet,  alas  !  my  heart  too  often  betrays  me.  I  find 
the  Lord  to  be  a  jealous  God,  who  will  not  accept  of  a  divided 
heart ;  and,  indeed,  if  I  know  any  thing  of  myself,  it  is  the  whole 
desire  of  my  soul  to  give  up  alt  and  everything,  myself,  my 
soul,  my  body,  my  health  my  strength^  my  friends,  my  all,  as  a 
willing  sacrifice  into  his  hand.  I  bless  my  God  for  such  a  dispo- 
sition, and  often  find  the  sweets  of  it ;  and  I  always  find  that  the 
more  watchful  I  walk,  the  more  comfortable  1  am."  She  then 
adds,  "  I  believe  it  is  a  month  since  I  wrote  the  above ;  and  thanks 
and  praises  to  my  dear  Lord,  1  have  had  much  of  his  presence 
and  love  in  my  heart  ever  since.  I  find  that  stupidity  and  dead- 
ness  which  I  have  had  much  of  in  times  past,  greatly  removed. 
T^  Lord  has  kept  my  soul  so  open  to  prayer  that  I  can  pray 
ana  praise  all  the  day  long.  I  never  find  any  thing  keeps  me  so 
low  at  the  throne  of  grace,  as  a  sense  and  feeling  of  the  loving 
kindness  of  the  Lord  to  my  soul ;.  it  makes  me  nothing,  it  so  emp- 
ties me  of  self.  It  is  not  a  sense  of  sin  without  the  love  of  God, 
will  humble  me  ;  I  think  that  only  makes  me  peevish  and  dissat- 
isfied I  but  when  the  Lord  lifts  up  the  light  of  his  countenance 
upon  me,  then  It  is  that  every  thing  in  me  falls  low  at  his  footstool. 
I  have  found  such  power  lately  as  I  never  had  before  ;  I  used  to 
be  as  ready,  to  yield  to  temptation  as  the  devil  was  to  tempt,  but 
now,  (all  the  glory  be  to  him  that  gives  me  this  power,)  I  find 
that  word  to  be  faithful  and  true,  '  Resist  the  devil,  and  he  will 
flee  from  you.'  When  temptation  besets  me,  instead  of  reasoning 
with  the  enemy  till  1  lose  all  the  Lord  has  given  me,  Iflee  to 
Christ,  and  tell  him  how  it  is  with  me,  and  cry  mightily  to  hm 
till  he  makeiB  me  more  than  conqueror.'* 


38i  TO  m»«  E****.  [Ut  4. 

I  hope  tbit  little  extract  from  mj  cousin's  letter  will  be  accepl* 
able.  I  have  several  from  her  in  the  same  strain,  for  she  is  not 
now  in  what  is  called  the  warmth  of  her  first  love,  bnt  has  been 
walking  comfortably  in  the  Lord's  way  three  or  foar  years  past ; 
I  think,  indeed,  every  letter  discovers  a  growth  upwards  io 
knowledge  and  love^  and  downwards  in  hamility.  May  the  Lord 
enable  as  so  to  do.  Yours,  be 


LETTER  ir. 

To  Miss  K****. 

June  I,  1761. 
Dear  Madah, 

I  FREQUENTLY  reflect  with  pleasure  on  our  little  interviews 
the  last  year,  1  trust  the  Lord  was  with  us  of  a  truth.  Surely 
my  heart  burned  within  me,  and  I  have,  and  shall  have,  much 
reason  to  bless  the  Lord  for  those  sweet  and  uneipected  opportu* 
kiities.  The  remembrance  of  them  has  exceedingly  engaged  my 
heart  to  you  both,  and  to  Miss  S**^*.  I  think  a  sight  of  the 
very  ground  we  walked  over  together  would  bring  to  my  mind 
much  of  what  occurred  in  our  conversation.  May  the  same  gra- 
cious Lord  enable  me  so  to  write,  and  you  to  read,  that  we  may 
experience  a  fellowship  in  spirit,  and  may  drink  plentifully  of  the 
refreshing  streams  of  his  love  and  grace. 

It  gives  me  much  pleasure  to  hear  that  the  Lord  leads  you  inta 
the  green  pastures  of  his  love,  so  that  yon  are  constrained  to  cry 
out,  "  How  great  is  his  goodness !  How  great  is  his  beauty  T' 
May  he  show  yon  yet  greater  things  than  these,  and  make  ymr 
soul  fresh  and  flourishing,  as  a  tree  planted  by  a  continual  stream. 
Then  I  am  sure  you  will  love,  and  serve  and  p^raise  him ;  you 
witlj  not  be  ashamed  of  his  name  and  cause ;  you  will  not  be 
backward  to  speak  for  htm ;  you  will  not  find  fault  with  any  of 
his  dispensations ;  in  a  word,  then  your  life  and  conversation  will 
be  a  proof  of  your  heavenly  calling,  and  all  who  behold  you  will 
be  constrained  to  acknowledge  that  you  have  b^n  with  Jesus  in- 
deed. 

This  is  the  way,  and  there  is  no  other  to  glorify  him  in  the 
world.  We  know,  from  experience,  how  little  reading,  and  hear<^. 
ing,  and  resolving,  can  do  for  us,  when  the  Lord  is  absent,  an4 
our  hearts  in  a  hard  and  stupi4  frame.  Alas  !  how  can  we  ren* 
4er,  unless  we  first  receive  ?  But,  oh !  when  his  Spirit  and 
power  is  with  us,  what  a  delightful  surprising  change  t  then  old. 


ibipgs  become  aew,  hard  things  easy ;  and  out  of  weakness  we 
are  made  strong !  then  onr  enemies  attempt  in  vain  to  bind  and 
ensnare  us  ;  be  enables  us  to  run  throogh  their  troops,  to  leap 
over  their  walk,  to  esteem  their  darts  and  swords  as  straw  and 
rotten  wood,  and  to  go  forth  in  his  strength,  conquering  and  to 
conquer.  I  hope  my  letter  will  find  you  in  this  experience,  with 
your  bow  abiding  in  force,  and  your  enemies  under  your  feet, 
and  may  it  long  continue.  This  is  a  privileged,  glorious  state  in- 
deed ;  but  it  calls  for  mu8h  watchfulness  and  prayer.  The  Lord 
expects  a  particular  closeness  and  obedience  from  those  whom 
he  thus  delights  to  honour,  and  Satan  watches  with  envy  and 
rage  to  find  an  opening  by  which  to  assault  such  a  soul. 

I  hope  yon  will  remember,  that  all  your  comfort  and  prosper!^ 
ty  depends  upon  keeping  near  to  him  who  is  the  sun,  the  shield, 
Ihe  life  of  his  poor  children,  and  that  neither  experiences,  know- 
ledge, nor  attainments,  can  support  us,  or  maintain  themselves, 
without  a  continual  supply  from  the  fountain.  This  supply  is 
to  be  kept  up  by  constant  prayer;  and  prayer  will  languish  with- 
out continual  watchfulness.  I  trust  you  will  bear  me  to  put  you 
ill  mind  of  these  things,  though  you  know  them.  We  are  yet  in 
an  enemy's  country,  and  are  directed  to  exhort  one  another  daily, 
lest  we  be  surprised  by  some  stratagem  and  guile  of  our  bitter 
adversary,  who  has  many  thousand  snares  and  instruments  to 
employ  against  us,  and  well  knows  how  to  use  them  to  the  most 
advantage,  and  to  avail  himself  of  our  weak  side.  Yet  we  need 
not  fear  him,  if  we  take,  and  keep,  and  use  the  whole  armour  of 
God,  and  remain  under  the  shadow  of  that  Rock  which  is  higher 
than  ourselves. 

As  to  me,  the  Lord  deals  gently  with  me  : — my  trials  are  few 
and  not  heavy,  my  experiences  run  in  a  kind  of  even  thread,  I 
have  no  great  enlargements,  and  am  seldom  left  to  great  darkness 
and  temptation  :  I  am  often  wandering  away,  but  the  Lord  seeks 
nie  out,  and  brings  me  back  from  time  to  time,  much  sooner  than 
I  could  expect.  1  am  enabled,  through  grace,  to  keep  myself 
Irom  the  evil  of  the  wcHrld,  so  that  I  have  not  been  left  to  bring 
a  blot  on  ray  profession.  But,  alas  !  my  heart  is  a  filthy,  defiled 
heart  stilt.  It  is  well  that  he  who  only  knows  how  to  bear  with 
me,  knows  what  is  within  me.  My  comfort  is  comprised  in  this  one 
senlenee-^^^  I  know  whom  I  have  believed" — ^I  know  that  Jesus 
is  mighty  to  save  ;  I  have  seen  myself  lost  in  every  view  but  the 
hope  of  bis  mercy  ;  I  have  fled  to  him  for  safety;  I  have  been 
preserved  by  him  thus  far  ;  and  1  believe  be  will  keep  that  which 
I  have  committed  to  him  even  to  the  end.  Blessing,  and  fionour, 
and  glory,  and  praise,  be  to  his  name,  who  hath  loved  poor  sin« 
n^rs,  and  washed  them  in  his  most  precious  blood !  Amen.    Tot 


238  xa  MISS  »*••••  [Let.  5. 

the  refit,  alas !  alas !  I  am  un&ithfal  and  unprofitable  to  a  degree 
,  you  would  hardly  believe ;  yet,  vile  as  I  am,  I  taste  of  bis  good- 
ness every  day,  and  live  in  hope,  that  in  his  own  time  he  will  en- 
able me  to  show  forth  his  praise.  I  have  been  much  exercised 
with  respect  to  the  ministry  ;  my  heart  is  led  that  way,  but  the 
Lord's  hand  keeps  mefin  f  I  need  much  bumbling ;  there  is  that 
in  me  which  seeks  great  tbbgs,  though  I  am,  as  I  said,  sadly  un- 
faithful in  small  ones ;  therefore,  for  my  pride,  I  am  set  aside  for 
the  present.  I  hope  yon  will  help  me  with  your  prayers ;  entreat 
the  Lord  to  empty  roe  of  all  creature-dependence,  that  I  may 
live  to  him  alone.  I  am  your  unworthy  servant. 


LETTER  V. 

To  Miss  »!•*•♦. 

May  2b,  1162. 
Mt  Dear  Ma]>am, 

How  can  I  begin  better  than  with  the  aposUe's  words  f- 
"  Blessed J)e  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the 
Father  of  mercies  and  God  of  all  consolation,  who,  according  to 
his  abundant  mercy,  hath  begotten  us  again  to  a  lively  hope  by 
the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ  from  the  dead."  What  a  foun- 
tain of  life,  and  joy,  and  praise  is  here  !  that  the  God  and  Fa- 
ther ofbur  Lord  Jesus  Christ  should  vouchsafe  to  be  our  Father, 
our  God  ;  that  he  who  is  the  source  of  all  mercy  and  consolation, 
should  direct  the  stream  of  his  fulness  to  flow  into  our  souls  :  that 
when  we  were  dead  in  sins,  he  should  look  upon  us  and  bid  us  live  : 
that  when  we  were  sunk  into  the  depth  of  despair,  he  should  send 
his  word  and  raise  us  to  a  lively  hope ;  that  he  should  give  us 
such  a  bright  prospect,  and  such  a  sweet  foretaste  of  the  exceed- 
ing riches  of  his  glory.  Oh!  who  can  say  which  is  the  most 
wonder/ul  part  of  this  wonderful  subject  i  that  he  should  provide 
such  a  happiness  for  such  hell-deserving  wretches,  and  that  hp 
should  commend  his  great  and  undeserved  love  to  us  in  such  a 
wonderful  way,  as  to  give  his  own  and  his  only  Son  to  be  bom, 
to  be  buffeted,  to  be  crucified  for  us.  Alas  !  alas !  for  our  stu- 
pidity, that  we  can  write,  or  hear  or  speak  of  these  things,'  with 
so  little  feeling,  affection,  and  fruitfulness.  Oh !  that  the  power 
of  God  would  set  my  heart  and  pen  at  liberty  while  writing,  and 
fill  youiP  hearts  while  reading,  that  we  may  rejoice  with  joy  ua- 
speakable  and  full  of  glory !  Oh,  this  unbelief !  Why  caa  we 
not  pierce  through  the  vail  of  flesh  and  blood,  and  by  iaitl^  behold 


Let.  6.]  TO   KIBS   II****. 

the  hamble  worship  of  heavtB?  What  countless  muitttades 
have  gone  before  us  in  the  path  that  leads  to  that  kingdom  !  Tbey 
were,  in  their  timey  followers  of  an  unseen  Saviour,  as  we  aru 
now  ;  bat  now  they  see  him  as  he  is,  iace  to  face,  in  all  his  glo- 
ry, and  in  all  his  love;  with  them  are  joined  the  innumerable 
hosts  of  angels.  Angels  and  saints,  however  distinguished,  are 
joined  in  one  happiness  and  one  employment.  Even  now,  while 
I  write,  and  while  you  read,  they  are  praising  the  Lamb  that  was 
slain,  and  casting  their  crowns  at  his  feet.  And  perhaps  this 
scene  is  not  so.far  distant  as  we  imagine.  Where  is  heaven  f  Is 
it  some  millions  of  leagues  from  us,  far  beyond  the  sun  and  the 
£xed  stars  f  What  have  immortal  spirits  to  do  with  space  or  . 
place  f  Who  knows  but  a  heaven-born  soul,  who  is  freed  from 
the  olog  of  this  vile  body,  and  filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God, 
jnay  .pass  as  easily  and  quickly  from  one  verge  of  the  creation  to 
iht  other,  «s  our  thoughts  can  change  and  fly  from  east  to  west,, 
from  the  past  %o  the  future  f  Perhaps,  even  npw,  we  live  in  the 
ffiidst  of  this  glorious  assembly ;  heaven  is  there  where  our  God 
and  Saviour  displays  himself ;  and  do  not  you  feel  him  near 
you,  nearer  then  any  of  his  visible  works  f  Perhaps  there  is 
nothing  bat  this  thin  partition  of  flesh  and  blood  between  us  and 
those  blessed  spirits  that  are  before  the  throne ;  if  our  eyes 
were  open,  we  should  see  the  mountain^  around  us  covered  with 
xhariots  and  horses  of  fire  :  if  our  ears  were  unstopped,  we  should 
hear  the  praises  of  our  great  Immanuel  resounding  in  the  air,  as 
once  the  shepherds  heard.  What  a  comfortable  meditation  is  this 
to  strengthen  our  weak  faith  in  such  a  dark  declining  day  as 
this,  when  sense  would  almost  persuade  us  that  we  are  left  to 
serve  Grod  alone.  When  we  are  wearied  with  looking  on  c^re-r, 
less  sinners  and  backsliding  professors,  let  us  remeuiber  that 
we  have  invisible  friends  present  in  our  assemblies,  our  con- 
ferences, and  our  closets,  who  watch  over  us,  and  in  ways  which 
w^  cannot  possibly  conceive,  are  helpers  of  our  joy,  and  wit- 
nesses of  our  conflicu.  They  are  with  us  now,  and  we  shall 
soon  be  with  them.  Ah  !  how  little  does  the  vain  world  think  of 
the  privileges  and  the  company  in  which  a  believer  lives  !  and^ 
what  is  worse,  how  faintly  do  we  think  of  these  things  ourselves  I 
and  this  is  the  reason  we  are  so  full  of  fears  and  complaints,  so 
prone  to  distrust  the  Lord's  methods  of  dealing  with  us,  and  so 
easily  drawn  aside  to  seek  for  something  to  rest  upon  in  creatures 
like  ourselves. 

With  respect  to  my  own  experience,  I  have  little  now  to  add  to 
what  I  have  formerly  offered  ;  at  least,  little  variety  :  for,  in  one 
sense,  every  new  day  is  filled  up  with  new  things  ; — new  mercies 
on  the  Lord's  part,new  in  gratitude  on  mine  ;  new  iustancesof  the 


»40  Td  tfiss  M***^.  [Let.  6. 

vileoess  of  my  hature,  ftttd  new  proofs  of  the  power  of  sovereign* 
pardoning  grace  : — ^new  bills  of  difficulty,  new  valleys  of  humili- 
ation ;  and  now  and  then,  (though,  alas !  very  short  and  seldom,) 
new  glimpses  of  what  I  would  be,  and  where  I  would  be.  The 
everlasting  love  of  God ;  the  unspeakable  merits  of  Christ's  right* 
eousness ;  and  the  absolute  freeness  of  the  Gospel  promises  ;— 
these  form  the  threefold  cord  by  which  my  soul  maintains  a  bold 
of  that  which  is  within  thevail.  Sin,  Satan,  and  unbelief,  ofteb 
attempt  to  make  me  let  go  and  cast  away  my  confidence,  but  as 
yet  they  have  not  prevailed  x;  no  thanks  to  me,  who  am  weaker 
than  water :  but  I  am  wonderfully  kept  by  the  mighty  power  of 
God,  who  IS  pleased  to  take  my  part,  and  therefore  I  trust  in  him 
that  they  never  shall  prevail  against  me.  A  vile  sinner,  indeed,  I 
am  ;  but  since  God,  who  alone  has  a  right  to  judge,  is  pleased  to 
justify  the  believer  in  Jesus,  who  is  there  that  shall  dare  to  con- 
demn f  I  bless  the  Lord  for  that  comfortable  portion  of  scrip- 
ture, Zech.  iii.  1 — 5.  When  the  Lord  is  pleased  to  pluck  a 
brand  out  of  the  fire  to  save  it  frbm  perislmig,  what  power  is 
heaven  or  earth  shall  presume  or  prevail  to  put  it  in  again  f  No  ; 
he  has  done  it,  and  who  can  reverse  it  ?  He  has  said  it,  and 
his  word  shall  stand.  And  i  humbly  believe  (Lord  help  my  un- 
belief) that  not  one  good  thing  shall  fail  of  all  that  the  Lord  my 
God  has,  in  his  word,  spoken  to  me  of. 

Yet,  alas !  I  must  still  charge  myself  with  a  great  want  of 
watchfulness  and  diligence  ;  the  enemy  cannot  destroy  my  foun- 
dation, but  he  spreads  many  nets  for  my  feet,  to  weaken  roe,  and 
to  interrupt  my  peace ;  and,  to  my  shame  I  must  confess,  he  loo 
often  prevails.  The  Lord,  in  great  mercy,  preserves  me  from 
such  sins  as  would  openly  dishonour  my  profession ;  and  a  mercy 
I  desire  to  esteem  it,  for  I  can  infer  from  my  heart  what  Iny  life 
would  be  if  I  were  left  to  myself.  I  hate  sin ;  I  long  to  be  de- 
livered from  it,  but  it  is  still  in  me,  and  works  in  me.  *'  O 
wretched  man  that  I  am,  who  shall  deliver  me  ?"  I  bless  CTod 
for  Jesus  Christ  my  Lord.  To  his  grace  I  commend  each  of 
you.  I  am  yours. 


LETTER  VI. 

To  Miss  »!♦•••. 

September  IS^  1763. 
Dear  M adau, 

I  REJOICE  to  find  that  the  Lord  prospers  his  work  in  ^our 
kearu,  and  that  you  can  say,  from  experience,  he  is  a  faithfiil  an4 


Let.  6.]  TO  MISS  »!••••.  241 

food  Shepherd.  Oh !  happy  they  vrho  are  in  such  a  case,  who 
now  for  themselves  how  good  it  is  to  draw  near  unto  him,  to  sit 
down  and  rest  under  Us  refreshing  shadow,  and  feast  upon  his 
pleasant  fruits ! 

Through  grace  I  also  continue  waiting  on  him  after  my  feeble 
measure  ;  and  I  trust  in  his  love,  that,  though  I  sometimes  faint,  I 
shall  not  uitertvfall ;  though  I  too  often  step  aside,  he  will  not  suf- 
fer me  to  wander  quite  away. 

There  is,  indcea,  aii  evil  heart  of  unbelief  that  would  lead  mc  I 
know  not  whither ;  but,  oh!  what  a  precious  "mercy  to  be  walled 
in  on  every  side  by  everlasting  love  and  free  grace  !  Do  not  your 
hearts  rejoice  in  that  word,  "  The  eternal  God  is  thy  refuge,  and 
underneath  are  the  everlasting  arms  V^  And  if  he  is  pleased  and 
engaged  to  uphold  us,  %vhat  power  or  policy  can  force  us  from 
hitn  ?  No ;  we  may  rejoice  in  it  as  a  certain  truth,  let  Satan  ana 
unbelief  say  what  they  will  to  the  contrary,  that  the  Lord's  afflict- 
ed people  on  earth  are  as  safe,  though  not  so  quiet,  as  his  glorified 
people  in  heaven.  They  are  embarked  on  a  troubled  sea,  the 
tempests  often  roar  around  them,  and  the  waves  seem  ready  to 
swallow  them  up ;  but  they  have  an  anchor  within  the  vail,  sure 
and  steadfast,  which  can  neither  be  broken  nor  removed.  They 
have  a  pilot,  a  guardian,  whose  wisdom  and  power  are  infinite,  and 
who,  01  his  own  good  pleasure,  has  engaged  his  truth  and  honour 
that  he  will  bring  them  safe,  through  all,  to  the  haven  of  eternal 
rest.  Let  us  therefore  trust,  and  not  be  airaid ;  let  os  rejoice,  and 
•ay^  ^^  The  Loid  Jehovah  is  my  strength  and  my  long,  and  be  also 
is  become  my  salvation.'' 

How  happy  should  we  be,  could  we  always  believe  the  glorious 
things  which  are  spoken  to  us  as  children,  in  the  word  of  him  who 
cannot  fail  of  accomplishing  his  promise.  But  are  we  not  fools 
and  slow  of  heart  in  tnis  matter?  at  least  \  am,  and  hence  proceed 
my  many  complaints.  Alas !  what  a  hard  heail  have  I,  that  can 
doubt,  and  repine,  and  limit  the  Lord,  after  all  the  great  things  he 
has  shown  me!  Wretched  heart,  that  can  stand  it  ojt  still, against 
oaths,  and  promises,  and  blood.  Methinks  I  may  sum  up  all  my 
wants  and  prayers  in  one  sentence — Lord,  give  me  faith !  Oh.  if 
faith  was  in  daily  exercise,  how  little  would  the  world, , and  tne 
things  of  time  and  sense,  seem  in  my  eyes !  What  a  dreadful  Ain^ 
would  sin  appear,  that  spilt  my  Saviour's  blood !  And  how  woula 
my  very  heart  rejoice  at  the  sound  of  Jesus'  name?  If  I  had  faith 
to  pierce  within  the  vail,  and  see  what  is  going  forward  in  yon 
blessed  world ;  how  earnestly  should  I  long  to  be  dissolved,  that 
I  might  join  in  worship  there !  and  how  willingly  should  I  spend 
and  be  spent  for  the  Gospel's  sake!  However,  though  it  is  not 
with  us  as  we  would  wish,  we  have  reason  to  bless  ^od  it  is  so 
well  with  us  as  it  is  ;  that  we  are  not  altogether  dead  in  trespasses 

Vol.  IV.  31 


342  .  TO  MISS  !!•♦<».  [Leu  7. 

and  sins,  strangers  and  enemies  to  the  glorious  Gospel  of  the  Mes- 
sed God.  We  have  reason  to  be  thankful  that  we  know  some- 
thing of  our  disease  and  our  physician.  He  who  has  taken  our 
case  in  hand  will,  in  his  own  time,  perfect  the  cure.  An  hour  ir 
coming  on  when  we  shall  no  more  say,  1  am  sick ;  we  shall  see 
him  as  he  is  ;  we  shall  be  like  him ;  we  shall  weep  no  more,  all 
tears  shall  be  wiped  from  our  eyes,  and  the  days  of  our  mourning 
shall  be  ended. 

Havine,  therefore,  such  promises,  let  us  be  animated  to  run  the 
way  of  the  Lord's*  coromandtfients  with  an  enlarged  heart.  Let 
the  joy  of  the  Lord  be  our  strength.  ^  Opposition,  temptation,  af- 
fliction, we  must  expect;  these  things  lie  in  the  path-way  to  glo* 
ry  -,  but  we  may  remember  him  who  hath  trod  the  path  before  tis, 
leaving  us  an  example  that  we  should  follow  his  steps.  I  say, 
tempted  and  opposeci  we  may  be ;  but  it  is  not  probable  that  we 
shall  be  spit  upon,  buifetted,  and  crucified  for  him,  as  he  was 
for  us* 

We  shall  have  but  a  taste,  at  the  most,  of  that  bitter  cup  which 
.  he  drank  off  to  the  dregs.  And  he  is  near  us  to  support  us  in  our 
((stresses,  to  carry  us  through,  to  make  us  more  timn  conquerors, 
and  then  to  put  the  crown  of  righteousness  and  victory  on  our 
heads  with  his  own  hands.  Let  us,  then,  go  forth  without  the 
camp,  bearing  his  reproach ;  let  us  not  hang  down  our  heads  like 
bulrushes,  but  i;ather  count  it  all  ioy  if  we  are  called  to  the  honour 
of  suffering  disg^ce,  or  any  kind  of  inconvenience,  for  his  name's 
sake.  Atovq  all,  let  us  pray  to  have  our  conversation  as  becom- 
eth  the  Gospel  of  Christ;  that  those  who  speak  evil  maybe 
ashamed  and  put  to  silence,  when  they  behold  our  meekness,  hu- 
mility, and  christian  carriage. 

May  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be  with  you  all.  Res 
member  to  pray  for  your  unworthy  friend. 


LETTER  VII. 

To  Miss  M****. 


• 


March  22,  1763. 


Mv  Dear  Madam, 

I  OLAPLT  embrace  the  lirst  opportunity  that  has  c^ered  of 
writing  .post-free  since  I  was  favoured  with  your  last  letter.  It 
gives  me  great  pleasure  to  hear  from  you ;  and,  if  our  correspcmd- 
ence  is  made  mutually  profitable  and  pleasant,  I  trust  we  shall  join 
in  giving  all  the  praise  to  him  who  hath  taught  us  to  lisp  some- 
thing of  the  gracious  truths  of  his  Gospel.    He  is  pleasedf  to  hide 


LeU  7,]  TO  M18S  u——.  243 

these  thines  from  the  wise  and  prudent,  and  to  reyeal  them  unto 
babes.  Vve  have,  indeed,  whereof  to  glory,  but  not  in  ourselves ; 
the  right  hand  of  the  Lord  has  been  exalted  in  our  behalf ;  the  right 
hand  of  the  Lord  has  brought  mighty  things  to  pass.  When  we 
were  utterly  helpless  and  hopeless,  he  saw  and  pitied  us,  and  bid 
us  live.  He  did  not  cut  us  off  in  the  midst  of  our  sins,  (as  is  the 
case  of  thousands,)  but  waited  to  be  gracious ;  and  when  his  hour 
was  come,  his  time  of  love,  he  reveal^  himself  as  our  mighty  Sav- 
iour, he  poured  oil  and  wine  into  our  wounds,  he  gave  us  beauty 
for  ashes,  the  garment  of  praise  for  the  spirit  of  heaviness ;  he 
opened  our  bliiul  eyes,  he  unstopped  our  deaf  ears,  dispossessed 
the  legion,  and  brought  us  to  sit  at  his  feet  clothed  and  in  our  right 
minds.  What  a  wonder  of  mercy  is  this,  considered  in  itself!  but 
much  more  if  we  think  of  the  means  by  which  it  was  effected ;  that 
in  order  to  bring  about  this  blessed  change,  that  m,ercy  and  truth 
might  meet  together  in  our  salvation,  and  the  righteousness  of  God 
harmonize  wi&  the  sinner's  peace,  the  Lord  Jesus,  who  was  rich, 
humbled  himself  to  become  poor ;  to  live  an  obscure  and  suffer- 
.  ing  life,  in  the  form  of  a  servant,  and  to  die  a  shameful,  painful, 
and  accursed  death,  that  we,  through  his  poverty,  might  be  made 
chiidrei)  and  heirs  of  God ;  mi^ht  receive  grace  to  serve  him  here, 
and  dwell  ^uth  him  in  glory  tor  ever.  For  this  en(}  he  willingly 
endured  thtr  cross,  and  despised  the  shame,  he  hid  not  his  face 
from  shame  and  spitting,  he  gave  his  back  to  the  smiters,  his  cheek 
to  them  that  plucked  off  the  hair,  he  submitted  to  wear  a  crown  of 
thorns,  to  be  nailed  by  the  hands  and  feet  to  the  accursed  tree,  to 
endure  the  fiercest  assaults  of  Satan,  yea,  to  drink  the  full  cup  of 
the  wrath  of  God  when  '^  it  pleased  the  Father  to  bruise  him,''  and 
to  make  ^^  his  soul  an  offering  for  sin !" 

Oh !  for  this  love  let  rocks  and  hills 

Their  lasting  silence  break ; 
And  all  harmonious  human  tongues 

Their  Saviour's  praises  spea£ 

Tes,  we  will  praise  thee,  dearest  Lord, 

Our  souls  are  all  on  flame  ; 
Hosannah  lound  the  spacious  earth, 

To  thuie  adored  name ! 

The  apostle  well  knew  the  force  of  his  argument  to  a  believing 
soul,  when  he  said,  ^  I  beseech  you,  therefore,  brethren,  by  the 
mercies  of  God,"  Surely  nothing  can  be  more  reasonable,  than 
that  we  should  live  to  him  who  thus  died  for  us*  Shall  we,  we 
who  are  redeemed  from  hell  at  such  a  price,  shall  we  continue  in 
sin?  God  forbid!  Shall  we  not  rather  say,  ^^  The  love  of  Christ 
constraineth  us"  to  devote  ourselves,  our  all,  to  him  alone :  to  ab^ 
stain  from  all  appearance  of  evil ;  to  hate  every  false  way,  and  to 


244  TO  Mi&ft  M«***.  [Let.  7. 

know,  study,  desire,  aod  love  iKHhiDg  but  Jestis  Chnst  and  him 
crucified;  that  we  may  feel  the  power  of  his  resurrection,  have  fel- 
lowship in  his  sufferings,  and  be  made  conformable  to  his  death. 

What  you  observe  of  the  way  in  which  the  Lord  makes  his  pre- 
•  cious  promises  food  to  his  children's  faith,  namely,  by  inclining 
their  hearts  to  watchfulness  and  diligence  in  all  his  appointed 
means;  and  enabling  them  to  walk  unspotted  fram  the  vanities  and 
pollutions  of  the  world,  waiting  for  the  consolations  and  teachings 
of  his  Holy  Spirit,  is,  1  hope,  the  very  sense  of  my  soul.  The 
promises  were  not  given  to  slacken  our  endeavours,  but  to  ani- 
mate us  to  earnestness.  An  evangelical  dependence  on  the  Lord 
for  righteousness  and  strength,  .and  an  evangelical  obedience  to 
kis  commands,  are  well  suited  to  each  other ;  they  are,  indeed,  in- 
separable, and  in  equal  proportion ;  where  one  declines,  the  other 
cannot  flourish.  Too  many,  as  you  say,  are  for  separating  what 
God  has  ioined  together.  But  let  their  mistakes  humble  and  warn 
us,  and  snow  us  the  necessity  of  keeping  close  to  th^  Lord.  We 
must  not  presume ;  for  our  hearts  are  as  deteitful  as  others.  Yet 
we  need  not  be  terrified ;  for  the  Lord  whom  we  serve  is  able  to 
keep  us  from  falling,  and  to  preserve  us  from  every  evil.  We  live 
in  dangerous  times ;  the  work  of  the  Lord  is  greatly  on  the  revival 
in  many  places,  and  therefore  errors  and  offences  ajbound ;  for 
where  the  good  seed  is  plentifully  sown,  the  enemy Vill  always 
find  means  to  sow  his  tares.  But  our  Lord  will  keep  his  own 
children  that  wait  upon  him  for  strength  and  direction  every  day. 
He  will  five  us  to  grow  in  grace,  and  the  knowledge  of  his  truth ; 
and  by  the  words  of  his  lips  we  shall  be  kept  from  the  paths  of  the 
destroyer. 

Let  us  further  comfort  ourselves  with  the  prospect  of  a  future 
time  when  every  evil  and  infirmity  shall  cease.  You  know  who 
hath  said,  ^'  Surely  1  come  quickly.'^  And  do  not  our  hearts  echo 
to  his  words?  Do  not  the  Spirit  and  the  bride  agree?  Yea,  "  A- 
men,  Even  so  come  Lord  Jesus.''  Come  and  put  an  end  tp  our  fears 
and  failings.  Come  and  deliver  us  from  this  scene  of  saife  and  con- 
fusion. We  are  weary  of  living  in  the  tents  of  Mesech.  We  are 
weary  of  ourselves.  Oh !  we  can  hardly  bear  to  pass  day  after  da  v 
with  such  faint  unworthy  apprehensions  of  thy  beauty  and  thy  good- 
ness. We  are  weary  anu  ashamed  of  our  holy  things.  So  much 
coldness  and  wandering  in  prayer,  in  reading  the  wora,  in  thy  pub- 
lic ordinances,  that  we  cannot  but  say — Oh  that  I  had  wings  like 
a  dove,  that.  I  might  fly  far  away  from  this  vain  ensnaring  werld ! 
When  will  this  conflict  cease  ?  when  shall  all  our  tears  be  wiped 
away?  when  shall  we  know  thee  as  thou  art,  and  be  formed  into 
thy  complete  resemblance  ?  Well,  the  time  is  short,  and  passing 
fest  awav.  Hold  out,  faith  and*  patience,  a  little  longer,  and  he 
that  shall  come  will  come,  and  will  not  tarry.    In  the  mean  time, 


Let.  8;]         '  TO  MtM  «•«•*.  345 

may  we  ha:^  grace  to  improve  the  present,  as  the  onFf  opportu- 
nity we  can  hare  of  glorifying  our  Lord  and  Saviour  in  a  sinful 
world.  When  we  get  safe  home,  we  shall  not  think  we  have  done 
and  suffered  too  much  by  the  way, 

I  am  vours.  * 


LETTER  VIII. 

To  Miss  M****. 

June  11,  1763. 
DSAR  Madaxi 

SiNCs  mv  return  from  Yorkshire,  I  have  had  but  little  leisure 
to  recollect  all  I  have  seen,  and  heard,  and  been  partaker  in,  for 
near  these  two  months  past.  These  occasional  opportunities  are 
now  at  an  end  for  a  season  ;  and  my  principal  intercourse  must  be 
with  him  who  is  always  near.  Oh !  for  grace  to  improve  this  high 
privilege  aright;  then  I  shall  have  no  need  to  regret  the  defects  or 
loss  of  creature-converse. 

The  Lord  has  led  me  to  many  pleasant  streams ;  but  I  desire  es- 
pecially to  rejdce  in  liberty  to  draw  nigh  to  the  fountain.  Methinks 
my  heart  joins  with  the  desire  of  those  who  said,  '^  We  would  see 
Jesus.^'  When  we  come  to  heaven,  without  doubt  we  shall  find 
great  pleasure  in  communion  with  the  '^  general  assembly  of  the 
church  of  the  first  born ;"  but  the  very  heaven  of  all  will  be  to  be- 
hold him  who  for  our  sakes  was  crowned  with  thorns  and  nailed  to 
the  cross.  All  the  rest  would  be  but  poor  company  if  he  were 
absent.  And  thus  proportionably  I  fina  it  to  be  on  earth.  1  de- 
light in  his  people  ;  but  they  can  only  profit  me  so  far  as  I  am  able 
to  see  him  in  them,  and  to  feel  his  presence  in  my  own  soul.  My 
whole  study  and  desire  is  comprised  in  this  short  sentence — ^"To 
walk  with  God" — ^to  set  the  Loi-d  always  before  me ;  to  hear  his 
voice  in  every  creature,  in  every  dispensation,  ordinance,  and  pro- 
vidence ;  to  keep  him  in  view  as  my  poilidn,  sun,  and  shield ;  my 
strength,  advocate,  and  Saviour.  And  all  my  complaints  may  be 
summed  up  in  this  one — a  proneness  to  wander  from  him.  This 
is  too  frequently  the  case  with  me,  I  hardly  know  how  or  why. 
Through  mercy,  I  am  in  a  measure  delivered  from  the  love  of  this  pre- 
sent evil  world ;  the  desire  of  my  heart  is  towards  God?  I  account 
his  loving-kindness  to  be  better  than  life,  and  esteem  all  his  pre- 
cepts concerning  all  things  to  be  right,  and  just,  and  good.  1  do 
not  even  wish  for  a  dispensation  to  admit  any  rival  into  my  heart ; 
he  richly  deserves  it  all^  and  I  am  willing  and  desirous  to  be  his 
alone,  and  to  be  wholly  conformed  to  him.    Yet  still  I  find  the  ef- 


246  TO  MI88  *•••*.  [Let  S^ 

fects  of  a  depraved  nature  $  and  notwithstanding  all  my  strunies 
against  inward  and  outward  evil,  I  am  too  often  carried  away  from 
the  point  of  simple  faith  and  dependence.    The  lively  experience 
of  a  Christian  is  not  hard  to  be  described ;  neither  is  it  hara  to  say 
^uch  about  it.    But  to  feel  what  we  say,  to  sit  down  under  the 
shadow  of  the  tree  of  life,  to  abide  in  Christ;  to  feed  on  him  in  my 
heart  by  faith  with  thanksgiving,  this  I  find  a  rare  attainment,  easi- 
ly lost,  and  not  so  soon  regainea.    I  know  enough  of  it  to  make  m& 
desirous  of  more,  and  yet  so  little,  that  I  have  frequent  cause  to 
cry  out,  My  leanness,  my  leanness !  and  to  lie  low  in  the  dust  be* 
fore  God.    A  remaining  root  of  pride  and  self-righteousness  often 
springs  up  and  interrupts  my  peace.     Indeed,  as  to  the  ground  of' 
my  hopes  and  acceptance,  I  aim  mercifully  kept  from  doubts  and 
fears ;  I  trust  in  him  who  has  wrought  out  a  perfect  righteousness 
for  my  justification,  and  has  stretched  out  an  everlasting  arm  for 
my  salvation.    1  see  the  honour  of  the  divine  attributes  effectually 
secured,  and  that  God  is  not  only  merciful  and  good,  but  faithful 
and  just,  in  saving  an  unworthy  believing  sinner.    But  what  1 
want,  is  not  only  to  expect  a  heaven  hereafter,  but  to  experience 
a  heaven  begun  below,  to  live  up  to  the  privileges  of  the  Gospel, 
to  have  enlarged  desires  after  holiness,  and  those  desires  abun- 
dandy  answered.    I  want  more  of  the  influences  of  the  Holy  Spi- 
rit, under  his  various  characters,  as  the  teacher,  quickener,  com- 
forter, and  sealer  of  the  people  of  God.    I  want  to  know  more 
clearly  what  the  apostle  desired  for  his  friends  in  those  two  com- 
jprehensive  pravers,  Eph.  i.  17 — 20,  and  iii.  16 — 19.     How  little 
do  I  understand  of  that  height  and  depth,  and  breadth  and  length, 
he  there  speaks  Of!    How  faint  are  my  ideas  of  the  glorious  hope 
of  his  calling,  and  the  exceeding  greatness  of  his  mighty  power! 
Well,  blessed  be  God  for  the  little  I  have !  I  trust  it  is  an  earnest 
of  more ;  he  has  given  me  to  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness, 
and  he  has  said;  I  shall  be  filled.     I  remember  the  time  when  I  was 
easy  enough  about  these  things ;  the  language  of  my  heart  was, 
**  Depart  irom  ine.^'    Yea,  I  resisted  his  Spirit^  desjpised  his  mer- 
cv,  and  counted  the  blood  of  the  covenant  an  unholy  thmg.     But 
oh !  he  '^  was  found  of  me  that  sought  him  not.''    He  passed  by 
me,  and  bid  me  live;   he  saved  me  m  spite  of  myself;   he  would 
not  give  me  up ;  he  appeared  in  the  hour  of  my  distress,  snatched 
the  prey  from  the  hana  of  the  mighty,  and  delivered  the  lawful  cap- 
tive.   And  ever  since,  how  good  has  he  been  to  me !  how  gently 
has  he  led  me !  how  often  has  he  restored  me  when  wandering,  re- 
vived me  when  fainting,  healed  my  breaches,  supplied  my  wanti, 
heard  my  prayers,  and  set  up  a  seasonable  standartl  again3t  my  en- 
emies, when  they  have  been  coining  in  upon  me  like  a  flood !  And 
even  now  he  is  with  me,  he  is  never  weary  of  doing  me  eood,  and 
I  believe  he  will  be  with  me,  even  to  the  end,  till  at  length  he  brings 


Let.  9,]  TOMissM*«k».  247 

me  home  to  his  kingdom  to  be  near  him  fbr  ever.  Hence,  indeed, 
arises  a  great  part  of  my  erief,  to  think  that  1  should  be  so  cold, 
and  barren,  and  unprofitable,  under  such  ainfazing  displays  of  un* 
deserved  love.  O  Lord,  touch  the  rock,  and  cause  the  waters  to 
flow ;  soften  and  inflame  my  heart,  that  I  may  at  length  become 
ihy  disciple  indeed. 

•  1  trust  you  will  continue  to  prize  the  meana  of  grace,  and  to 
watch  against  every  appearance  of  evil.  Take  heed  lest  either  of 
you  be  hardened  through  the  deceitfulness  of  sin.  Beware  of  that 
worst  of  evils,  spiritual  pride.  Pray  earnestly  for  a  deep  sense  of 
your  own  insufliciency.  I  did  not  thoroughly  approve  the  question 
that  was  proposed  concerning  a  powdlr  in  ourselves,  though  I  be- 
lieve yoti  understand  it  in  &good  sense ;  but  let  us  beware  of  trustp 
ing  in  any  other  power  than  the  p©wer  of  Christ  received  Continu- 
ally by  faith,  I  know  carnal  minds  will  abuse  this  principle,  and 
do  they  will  every  other  doctrine  of  the  Gospel ;  but  let  it  suffice 
us  that  be  who  knows  us  best  has  said,  ^^  Without  me  ye  can  do 
nothing." . 

I  am  your  affectionate  and  obliged  servant. 


LETTER  IX. 

To  Miss  M****- 

January  3,  1764.* 
Dear  Madam, 

It  is  a  time  of  trial  amons  your  friends  here ;  nor  have  t 
wholly  escaped.  Mrs.  N****  has  kept  her  chamber  more  than 
ten  weeks ;  and  we  see  no  present  prospect  of  her  recovery.  Her 
complaint  is  a  nervous  fever,  attended  with  a  complaint  in  her 
head  and  stomach,  which  medicines  seem  insufficient  to  remove. 
^•Through  mercy;  her  illness  has  not  often  risen  to  a  very  high  de^ 
ffree :  but  continuing  so  long,  it  has  rendered  her  very  weak  and 
feeble,  so  that  sometimes  she  can  hardly  bear  any  one  to  walk 
across  the  room. 

I  sympathize  for  my  friends,  and  I  feel  for  myself.  But,  bles- 
sed be  Uod,  I  do  not  mourn  as  those  who  have  no  hope.  I 
know  it  is  not  an  enemy  hath  done  this.  It  is  the  Lord,  who  hath 
saved  me  out  of  all  afifictions,  he  who  gave  me  all  my  good  things, 
he  to  whom  I  have  surrendered  myself  and  my  all ;  he  it  is  that 
hath  laid  this  trial  on  me  for  my  good.  I  believe  it  to  be  necessa- 
ry, because  he  is  pleased  to  appoint  it ;  and  though  at  present  it 
is  not  joyous  but  grievous,  I  trust  that  in  the  end  he  will  cause  it  to 
yield  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness.    I  desire  to  submit 


248  TO  MIS3  »*••»•  [Let.  9, 

td  his  will  in  all  things  ;  and  though  I  feef  the  depravity  of  my 
nature  too  often,  yet,  upon  the  whole,  he  enables  nae  to  trust  to 
him.  and  leave  all  in  bis  hands.  I  prav  that  her  health  may  be  re* 
stored  when  he  sees  best,  but  especially  that  her  sickness  may  be 
sanctified  to  both  our  souls.  In  this  we  hope  and  desire  the  con- 
currence of  your  prayers. 

At  such  times  as  these,  the  unspeakable  blessing  of  having  a* 
hope  in  God  according  to  the  Gospel,  appears  with  double  evi- 
dence. Faith  in  Jesus  prepares  us  for  every  event.  Though  he 
put  forth  his  hand,  and  seem  to  threaten  our  dearest  comforts,  yet 
when  we  remember  that  ic  is  his  hand,  when  we  consider  that  it  is 
his  design,  his  love,  his  wisdom,  and  his  power,  we  cannot  refuse 
to  trust  him.  The  reluctance  we  feel  is  against  our  judgment ; 
for  we  are  sure  that  what  he  chooses  for  us  must  be  best.  Then, 
again,  to  think  how  much  less  our  sufferings  are  than  our  sins  have 
deserved ;  how  many  mercies  we  still  enjoy  on  every  hand,  how 
much  heavier  burdens  are  the  portion  of  many  around  us ;  to  com- 
pare the  present  momentary  affliction  with  the  exceeding  weight 
of  glory  which  shall  be  revealed ;  to  recollect  that  the  time  is 
short,  the  hour  is  swiftly  approaching  when  the  Lord  shall  wipe 
away  all  tears,  and  constrain  us  with  wonder  and  joy  to  sing,  **  He 
hath  done  all  things  well.**  Such  considerations  as  these,  togeth- 
er with  the  remembrance  of  what  he  suffered  for  us,  are  always 
at  hand  to  compose  our  souls  under  troubles,  and  will  be  effectual 
according  to  tne  degree  of  faitb«  Our  faith  also  is  strength- 
ened by  affliction ;  we  learn  more  of  our  own  insufficiency,  anf 
the  vanity  of  all  things  about  us ;  and  we  discover  more  of  the 
power,  faithfulness,  and  nearness  of  a  prayer-hearing  God.  Upon 
this  ground  Habakkuk  could  sit  down  ancf  rejoice  under  the  loss  of 
all.  He  could  look  at  the  blasted  fig-tree  and  the  withered  vine, 
see  the  herds  and  flocks  cut  off;  ana  every  creature-comfort  fail ; 
yet  says  he,  '^  I  will  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  and  joy  in  the  God  of  my 
salvation.*'  O  the  name  of  Jesus,  when  we  can  speak  of  him  as 
oui*s ;  this  is  the  balm  for  every  wound,  cordial  for  every  care ; 
it  is  as  ointment  poured  forth  diffusing  a  fragrancy  through  the 
whole  soul,  and  driving  away  the  hurtful  fumes  and  fogs  of  dis- 
trust and  discontent. 

I  am  affectionately  yours* 


Let.  10.]  TO  MISS  M****.  249 

LETTER  X. 
To  Miss  M***\ 

Dear  Madah, 

I  AM  afraid  before  this  you  have   chargfed  me  with  neglect 
ftnd  unkindness.     I  confess  1  have  delayed  too  long,  but  can  truly 

say,  my  affection  for  you  and  all  my  dear  friends  at  Y , 

remains  unaltered  and  unabated.  Let  my  various  removals,  and 
the  necessary  new  engagements  they  have  brought  upon  me,  plead 
my  excuse,  especially  as  I  have  not  been  often  faulty  in  this  way  } 
I  hope  I  shall  not  in  future  give  you  so  jusfreason  of  complaint. 

The  Lord  has  at  length  brought  me  into  the  ministry  according 
to  my  desire,  and  beyond  my  hopes  placed  me  in  a  fruitful  part  of 
his  vineyard,  where  bis  Gospel  is  known,  loved,  professed,  and 
possessed  by  many.  I  have  a  large  congregation,  and  a  com- 
fortable prospect  of  usefulness.  This,  1  doubt  not,  will  rejoice 
you  and  stir  you  up  to  praise  him  on  my  behalf,  and  to  pray  for 
me,  that  I  may  devote  my  all  to  bis  service,  and  in  a  deep  sense 
of  my  own  insufficiency,  depend  continually  upon  him  for  wisdom, 
strength,  and  grace,  to  help  in  time  of  need.  I  can  justly  ask  this 
of  you,  as  I  am  sure  you  have  a  constant  place  in  my  heart,  aud 
a  frequent  remembrance  in  my  prayers. 

*  I  long  to  know  how  you  go  on  :  I  hope  comfortably.  I  hope 
yon  still  find  that  the  joy  of  the  Lord  is  your  strength,  that  his 
service  is  perfect  freedom  ;  that  it  is  good  to  wait  upon  him,  and 
that  yon  daily  enjoy  his  presence  both  in  public  and  in  private. 
Are  you  not  often  filled  with^dmiration  and  love  at  the  thought 
of  his  distinguishing  grace  in  calling  you  out  of  darkness  into 
light  ?  And  when  you  are  enabled,  by  faith,  to  view  Jesus  as 
dying  for  sin,  and  now  pleading  for  sinners  before  the  throne,  are 
not  your  hearts  melted  into  godly  sorrow,  and  inflamed  with  a 
holy  zeal  to  hate  every  false  way,  and  to  cleave  to  him  with  full 
purpose  of  heart  ?  These  are  sure  signs  that  you  are  walking  in: 
the  good  old  way,  that  you  are  interested  in  the  blessings  of  the 
everlasting  covenant,  and  you  may  be  confidently  assured,  that 
be  who  has  begun  the  good  work  in  you  will  perform  tlie  same 
unto  the  day  of  Christ  Jesus. 

Many  are  the  trials  and  exercises  we  must  expect  to  meet  with 
in  our  progress  ;  but  this  one  consideration  outweighs  them  all, 
The  Lord  is  on  our  side  ;  and  if  he  be  for  us,  none  can  be  against 
us  to  harm  us.  In  all  these  things  we  shall  be  more  than  con- 
querors, through  him  that  has  loved  us.  AfSictions,  though  not 
in  themselves  joyous,  but  grievous,  yet,  when  sanctified,   ara 

Vol,  IV.  32 


260  TO  Miss  M****.  [Let.  10. 

among  oar  choice  mercies ;  in  due  time  they  shall  yield  the  peace- 
ful fruits  of  righteousness  ;  and  even  at  present,  they  shall  surely 
be  attended  with  seasonable  and  sufficient  supports.     One  great 
desire  of  the  believer,  is  to  understand   the  good  word  of  God 
more  and  more  ;  and  one  principal  means  by  which  we  advance 
in  this  knowledge  is  the  improvement  we  are  enabled  to  make  of 
our  daily  trials.     The  promises  are  generally  made  to  an  afflict- 
ed ^tate  ;  aqd  we. could  not  taste  their  sweetness,  nor  experience 
their  truth,  if  we  were  not  sometimes  brought  into  the  circumstan- 
ces to  which  they  relate.     It  is  said,  ''  I   will  be  with  them  in 
trouble  ;"  but  how  could  we  know  what  a  mercy  is  contained  in 
these  words,  unless  trouble  was  sometimes  our  lot  f     It  is  said  to 
be  the  believers  privilege  to  glory  in  tribulation.     But  we  never 
could  know  that  this  is  possible  without  we  had  tribulation  to 
glory  in.     However,  this  is  matter  of  joy  and  glory  indeed,  to 
find  peace  and  comfort  within,  when  things  are  disagreeable  and 
troublesome  without.     Then  we  are  enabled  to  set  to  our  seal 
that  God  is  true ;  then  we  learn  how  happy  it  is  to  have  a  refuge 
that  cannot  be  taken  from  us ;  a  support  that  is  able  to  bear  all 
the  weight  we  can  lay  upon  it ;  a  spring  of  joy  that  cannot  be 
stopped  up  by  any  outward  events.     A  great  part  of  the  little  we 
know  of  our  God,  his  faithfulness,  his  compassion,  his  readiness  to 
bear  and  to  answer  our  prayers  ;  his  wisdom  in  delivering  and 
providing,  when  all  our  contrivances  fail ;  and  bis  goodness  in 
overruling  every  thing  to  our  souls'  good ;  I  say,  much  of  what 
we  know  of  these  things  we  learnt  in  our  trials,  and  have  there- 
fore reason  to  say.  It  was  good  for  us  to  be  afflicted.     And  as  the 
Lord  has  brought  us  safe  through  thus  far,  we  have  good  ground 
to  trust  him  to  the  end.     We  know  not  what  is  before  us.    Per- 
haps we  may  meet  greater  difficulties  by  and  by,  than   we  have 
ever  yet  seen  ;  but  if  we  keep  in  mind  who  delivered  us  from  the 
lion  and  the  bear,  we  may  face  the  Philistine  also  without  terror. 
God  will  be  with  us,  and  strengthen  us  with  strength  in  our  souls. 
Only  it  is  our  wisdom  to  keep  close  to  him»  that  when  the  evil  day 
comes,  we  may  have  confidence  before  him  in  all  our  troubles. 
When  afflictions  overtake  us   in  a  careless  frame,  and  find  guilt 
upon  the  conscience,  then  they  are  doubly  troublesome. 

I  am  yours^  &c. 


IjCt.    1!.]  TO   MISS   M****.  251 

LETTER  XL 

To  Miss  M****. 

July  20^  1768, 
jMv  Dear  Sisters, 

We  agreed  to  exchange  a  letter  once  in  three  months^  but  we 
both  began  in  the  same  week  :  I  have  been  waiting  ever  since  for 
yoars ;  and  perhaps  our  letters  may  meet  upon  the  road  again. 
If  so,  we  shall  be  still  puzzled;  but  if  you  have  not  yet  written,  - 
let  me  have  an  answer  to  this  within  one  month,  and  then  yoii 
may  expect  one  from  me  about  a  quarter  of  a  year  afterwards. 
Indeed,  some  things  I  have  lately  engaged  in  will  oblige  me  to 
drop  a  great  part  of  my  correspondence ;  but  I  cannot  prevail 
with  myself  to  give  up  yours,  because,  both  present  and  absent, 
the  Lord  has  helped  and  comforted  me  by  you  ;  and  so  long  as  1 

can  remember  some  precious  seasons  1  have  enjojred  at  Y — , 

so  long  will  you  have  a  peculiar  place  in  my  heart.     However, 
3'ou  must  not  expect  two  for  one. 

I  wish  you  could  make  it  suit  one,  two,  or  all  of  you  (the  more 
the  better)  to  come  and  see  us  at  OIney.  So  I  told  you  when  I 
saw  you  ;  so  I  tell  you  again.  I  think  you  would  like  to  spend 
a  little  time  with  us.  Through  mercy,  we  continue  to  go  on  very 
comfortably ;  our  society  has  been  enlarged  by  several  additions  : 
and  all,  in  general,  are  in  a  thriving  way.  Soon  after  I  returned 
from  Yorkshire,  I  b^gan  to  expound  the  Pilgrim's  Progress  in  our 
meetings  on  Tuesday  evenings ;  and  though  we  have  been  almost 
seven  months  travelling  with  the  pilgrim,  we  have  not  yet  left  the 
house  Beautiful ;  but  I  believe  shall  set  off  for  the  Valley  of  Hu- 
miliation in  about  three  weeks.  I  find  this  book  so  full  of  mat- 
ter, that  I  can  seldom  go  through  more  than  a  page  or  a  half  a 
page  at  a  time.  I  hope  the  attempt  has  been  greatly  blessed 
amongst  us  ;  and  for  myself,  it  has  perhaps  given  me  a  deeper 
insight  into  John  Bunyan's  knowledge,  judgment,  and  experience 
in  the  Christian  life,  than  I  should  ever  have  had  without  iu 

The  Lord  is  pleased  to  supply  me  still  in  public  service,  and  to 
continue  my  acceptance,  with  his  people.  But  with  regard  to  what 
passes  between  him  qnd  my  own  soul,  there  is  for  the  most  part 
a  very  awful  distance^  I  monrn  under  such  adeadness  and  bar- 
renness in  secret  duties,  as  I  believe  very  few,  who  are  in  any 
measure  alive,  hre  exercised  with.  It  puts  n\fi  often  to  a  stand,  and 
affords  the  enemy  a  handle  to  present  the  moM  distressing  doubts 
and  fears  as  to  my  own  state.  I  dare  not  plead,  in  answer  to  his 
sugg^tions,  that  I  most  be  right,  because  the  Lord  is  pleased  to 


2i»  TO  M18S   M***».  [Let.    11. 

assist  and  own  me  in  the  work  of  tlie  ministry  ;  because  the 
apostle  plainly  supposes,  a  man  may  speak  like  an  angel  to  oth- 
ers :  and  be  but  sounding  brass  himself;  may  speak  to  good 
effect  to  them,  and  be  himself  a  cast-away.  But  though  I 
dare  not  rest  upon  this  plea,  the  Lord  affords  me  a  better  ;  and 
has  been  pleased  to  ^ve  such  a  view  of  the  ail-sufficient  right- 
eousness of  Jesus,  and  the  certainty  of  the  promises  in  Him, 
that  these  doubts  seldom  pierce  more  than  skin-deep,  and,  at 
the  bottom  of  my  dry  complaining  frames,  he  is  pleased  to 
maintain  a  stable  peace.  I  trust  1  am  safe  ;  but  I  am  sure  I  am 
not  comfortable.  I  have  every  thing  to  make  me  so  that  this 
world  can  afford  ;  but  I  hope  the  whole  of  this  world  would  not 
satisfy  me  without  the  light  of  his  countenance,  and  a  more  cheer- 
ful ability  to  love,  serve,  and  praise.  For  this  I  sigh,  for  this  I 
pine.  After  all,  he  knows  what  is  best  for  me  to  humble  the 
pride  of  my  heart,  and  to  maintain  in  me  a  spirit  of  dependence 
and  self-abasement.  Perhaps  he  sees  I  am  not  6t  to  be  trusted 
with  comforts,  especially  when  my  outward  path  is  in  all  respects 
so  very  smooth.  I  hope  his  grace  is,  in  a  measure,  with  me  ; 
otherwise  I  should  grow  quite  careless,  or  the  evils  I  feel  in  my 
heart  would  break  out  to  the  observation  of  others  ;  neither  of 
which  I  hope,  is  at  present  the  case.  To  Him,  and  not  to  me,  be 
the  praise ;  for  if  he  did  not  hold  me  up  continually.  I  am  £ure  I 
should  soon  wofully  fall. 

I  rejoiced  to  hear  it  was  well  with  you  ;  yes,  it  is  well ;  you 
have  a  good  Shepherd  who  is  able  to  keep  you  from  falling,  and 
to  supply  all  your  wants,  to  shield  you  from  all  dangers,  to 
feed  you  with  heavenly  manna  and  living  water ;  and  ere  long 
you  shall  see  his  face  without  a  veil,  and  shine  like  the  sun  in  his 
kingdom  for  ever.  May  I  not  address  you  with  the  angel's  sal- 
utation ? — Hail  ye  who  are  highly  favoured  ;  the  Lord  is  with 
you ;  blessed  are  ye  among  women.  I  need  not  tell  you,  that  it 
becomes  you  to  be  deeply  humbled  ;  you  know  it  and  desire  it. 
It  becomes  you  likewise  to  be  highly  thankful.  Complain  not  of 
crosses  by  the  way  ;  who  was  ever  spiritually-minded  without 
them  ?  These  are  among  the  evidences  that  you  are  children  ;  and 
the  Lord  will  make  a  rich  amends  for  all.  Then  we  shall  weep, 
we  shall  sin  no  more. 

Your  truly  affectionate  brother  and  servant. 


Let.    12.1  TO   M18S   M****.  253 

LETTER  XII. 
To  Miss  !«*••*. 

JIfarcA  1,  1769. 
Dear  Madam, 

I  NOW  write  A  little  before  the  time  appointed,  lest  some  hin- 
d^rance  should  again  make  you  think  me  forgetfol. 

I  was  glad  to  6nd  yon  were  all  living,  as  I  had  some  apprehen- 
sions concerning  Miss  K****,  and  especially  glad  to  find  that 
you  were  al)  alive  in  the  very  best  sense,  even  to  God.  We  have 
need  eoougk  to  moarn  over  our  unfruitfulness  ;  but  let  us  remem* 
ber  that  it  is  a  special  mercy  of  God,  to  be  enabled  to  hold  fast 
our  profession.  For  we  live  in  perilous  times,  when  there  are 
such  dreadful  falls  of  professors  as  might  well  shake  and  terrify 
us»  if  we  were  not,  indeed,  founded  upon  a  rock.  But  the  Lord 
knows  them  that  are  his,  and  he  will  keep  them  ;  yea,  he  teaches 
them  to  improve  the  miscarriages  of  others,  as  motives  to  stir 
them  up  to  greater  watchfulness,  and  to  show  them  the  necessity 
of  crying  daily  to  him,  "  Hold  thou  me  up,  and  I  shall  be  safe." 
I  suppose  you  have  heard  the  unhappy  case  of  *****,  a  man  whom 
1  loved  as  a  friend,  and  honoured  as  an  eminent  believer  :  how 
often  have  his  letters  made  me  ashamed !  his  dreadful  fall  has 
affected  me  more  than  any  thing  of  the  kind  I  have  ever  met  with 
since  the  Lord  gave  me  acquaintance  with  his  people.  O,  how 
great  is  the  deceitfniness  of  the  heart  of  sin,  and  Satan  !  How 
should  the  apostle's  words  be  laid  to  heart,  "  Let  him  that  think- 
eth  he  standeth,  take  heed  lest  he  fall  !"  1  Cor.  x.  12.  Howev- 
er, as  I  said,  those  who  feel  their  weakness,  whose  dependence 
upon  Jesus  is  Scriptural,  such  a  dependence  as  makes  them 
diligent  in  the  use  of  appointed  means,  and  desirous  of  being 
kept  from  the  appearance  of  evil ;  these  shall  be  preserved.  That 
is  a  gracious  and  supporting  promise,  (to  those  who  feel  they  can 
do  nothing  for  themselves,  are  jealous  over  their  own  hearts,  and 
see  the  snares  that  are  continually  spread  for  their  ieet,)  which 
the  Lord  makes  to  all  his  faithful  people.  Rev.  iii.  10.  Alas  !  un- 
less he  vouchsafe  to  keep  the  city,  the  watchman  waketh  but  in 
vain.  But  faith  in  his  name  and  promise,  gives  us  confidence  and 
encouragement  to  aim  at  that  watchfulness  on  our  parts,  to  which 
his  word  exhorts  us.  The  Lord  does  not  keep  his  people  by 
teaching  them  so  to  rest  in  the  promises  of  his  care,  as  to  sit 
down  secure  and  careless  in  themselves.  But  he  preserves  them 
from  falling  from  him,  by  putting  his  fear  in  their  hearts,  by 
making  them  sensible  of  their  dangers,  and  drawing  them  to  come 


254  TO  MISS  M****.  [Let.  12. 

boldly  to  his  throne  ofgrace,  that  they  may  obtain  mercy,  and  find 
grace  to  help  in  every  time  of  need.  And  when  his  Spirit  bears 
witness  with  our  spirits,  that  we  are  thus  looking  to  him  in  the 
way  of  duty,  weak  and  unworthy  as  we  are,  we  may  triumph  in 
his  salvation,  and  be  firmly  persuaded,  that  neither  the  world  nor 
Satan  shaH  be  able  to  separate  us  from  his  %  ve.  Great  is  the  con* 
solation  provided  for  humble  souls  in  what  the  Scripture  declares 
concerning  the  power,  grace,  offices,  faithfulness,  and  comptission 
of  the  Redeemer.  These  things  are  always  equally  true  in  them* 
selves,  but  not  always  equally  evident  to  us  ;  for  we  cannot  com* 
fortably  apply  them,  but  in  proportion  as  his  Spirit  is  with  us.  It 
is  therefore  wisely  and  mercifully  appointed,  that  if  we  grow 
slack  and  careless,  our  comforts  and  peace  should  <lecline,  that 
we  may  perceive  in  lime  tliat  we  are  getting  out  of  the  right 
.  path,  and  cry  to  the  Lord  to  restore  us  again.  While  those 
who  are  always  alike,  who  can  talk  of  assurance  and  persever- 
ance while  they  are  evidently  indulging  a  trifling  and  careless 
spirit,  ^nd  expect  the  promises  will  be  accomplished  in  another 
way  than  that  path  of  diligence,  humiliation,  and  prayer,  which 
the  Lord  himself  has  marked  out ;  these  persons,  I  soy,  always 
give  cause  to  fear  that  they  know  very  little  of  what  they  ar^ 
talking  about. 

My  paper  is  almost  full,  and  all  that  I  have  written  is  quite  be- 
side my  first  intention.  But  it  may  not  be  the  worse  for  that !  I 
love  to  give  up  ray  heart  and  pen,  without  study,  when  I  am  writ- 
ing. The  Lord  knows  the  stale  of  my  friends,  their  present 
temptations,  &^.  and  I  look  to  him  to  give  me  a  word  in  season. 
Things  with  us  are  as  usual.  The  great  Shepherd  is  still  pleased 
to  guard  our  fold,  so  that  the  enemy  has  not  yet  been  suffered  to  dis- 
tract us  with  errors  and  divisions,  nor  has  one  turned  back  after 
having  fully  joined  us.  Our  number  increases  every  year,  though 
not  very  fast.  As  to  myself  I  am  much  exercised  with  a  dead- 
ness  of  spirit  in  secret,  which  makes  me  often  groan.  But,  through 
grace,  1  can  say,  that  as  I  never  saw  more  of  my  own  vileness,  so, 
I  think,  I  never  saw  Jesus  more  precious  and  desirable,  was  more 
clearly  sensible  of  the  vanity  of  every  thing  without  him,  than  I 
have  of  late.  **JVo«e  but  Jesus,"  is  my  motto.  AH  wisdom, 
righteousness,  holiness,  and  happiness,  which  does  not  spring 
from  and  centre  in  Him,  my  soul  desires  to  renounce. 

May  the  Lord  bless  each  of  you  with  an  abiding  sense  of  hU 
precious  love,  that  your  hearts  may   burn,  and  your  lives  shine» 

So  prays  yours,  fac. 


Let.  13.]  TO  MisB  B^**%  ^55 

LETTER  XIII- 
To  Miss  M****.  ^ 

Dear  Madam, 

I  DULY  received  yonr  letter  Of  the  15th  of  December,  and  am 
very  willing  still  to  include  Mrs.  H****  in  oar  correspondence. 
I  hope  she  finds,  in  every  change  of  life,  that  Jesus  is  still  the 
same,  gracious  and  precious  to  her  soul  ;  and  my  prayer  is,  that 
neither  the  comforts  nor  cares  of  a  married  state  may  damp  the 
frame  of  her  spirit  towards  him.  The  heart  is  deceitful,  the 
world  ensnaring,  the  enemy  subtle  and  powerful ;  but  we  know 
who  has  said,  '*  My  grace. is  sufficient  for  thee."  He  is  able  to 
keep  us,  not  only  safe  as  to  the  end,  but  also  lively,  faithful,  and 
dependent  by  the  way,  in  every  circumstance  and  station  to 
wbich  bis  providence  calls  us. 

I  observe  your  last  is  written  in  a  more  complaining  style  than 
usual.  Causes  of  complaint  are,  indeed,  innumerable  ;  but  re- 
member "the joy  of  the  Lord  is  your  strength."  Be  not  snr* 
prised  that  you  still  find  the  efiects  of  indwelling  sin — it  must  and 
will  be  so.  The  frame  of  our  fallen  nature  is  depraved  through- 
out, and,  like  the  leprous  house,  it  must  be  entirely  demolished, 
and  raised  anew.  While  we  are  in  this  world,  we  shall  groan, 
being  burdened.  I  wish  you  to  long  and  breathe  after  greater 
measures  of  sanctification  ;  but  we  are  sometimes  -betrayed  into  a 
legal  spirit,  which  will  make  us  labour  in  the  very  fire  to  little 
purpose.  If  we  find  deadness  and  drynf  ss  stealing  upon  us,  our 
only  relief  is  to  look  to  Jesus — to  bis  blood  for  pardon — to  his- 
grace  for  strength  ;  we  can  work  nothing  out  of  ourselves.  To 
pore  over  our  own  evils  will  not  cure  them ;  but  he  who  wa& 
typified  by  the  brazen  serpent  is  ever  present,  lifted  up  to  our 
view  in  the  camp  ;  and  one  believing  sight  of  him  will  do  more  to* 
restore  peace  to  the  conscience,  and  life  to  our  graces,  than  all  our 
own  lamentatious  and  resolutions. 

*  Further,  we  must  expect  changes*  Were  we  always  alike,  we 
should  dream  that  we  had  some  po|i^er  or  goodness  inherent  in 
ourselves ;  be  wilt  therefore  sometimes  withdraw,  that  we  may 
learu  our  absolute  dependence  on  bim.  When  this  is  the  case,  it- 
is  our  part  humbly  to  continue  seeking  him  in  his  own  appointed 
means,  and  patiently  to  wait  his  promised  return!  It  is  a  point  of 
great  wisdom  to  know  our  Gospel  liberty,  and  yet  not  to  abuse  it; 
to  see  that  our  hope  stands  sure  and  invariable,  distant  from  all 
the  changes  we  feel  in  ovjt  experience,  that  we  are  accepted,  not 
because  we  are  comfortable  or  lively,  but  because  Jesus  has  loved 


S&6  TO  MI8S  M***».  [Let.  14.* 

us,  and  given  himself  for  us ;  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  to  be 
longing  and  thirsting  for  the  light  of  his  countenance,  and  a  re- 
newed sense  of  his  love  upon  our  hearts.  Two  things  we  should 
^ways  guard  and  pray  against ;  that  the  knowledge  of  our  ac- 
ceptance may  not  make  us  secure  and  careless,  and  likewise,  that 
our  endeavours  after  conformity  to  his  revealed  will,  may  not 
subject  us  to  a  spirit  of  bondage.  The  apostle,  who  well  knew 
the  nature  of  our  warfare,  exhorts  us  to  **  rejoice  in  the  Lord  al^ 
WATS."  He  knew  what  conflicts  we  should  meet  with  from  afflic- 
tions, imperfections,  temptations,  and  desertions  :  yet  he  says, 
always  ;  which  can  only  be  practised  by  those  who  see  and  keep 
in  mind  that  they  are  complete  in  Christ ;  that  he  is  all  in  all  to 
them ;  their  righteousness,  wisdom,  and  strength ;  their  sun  and 
shield  ;  their  friend  and  representative  before  the  throne  ;  their 
shepherd  and  their  husband.  If  I  may  speak  my  own  experience^ 
I  find  that  to  keep  my  eyes  simply  upon  Christ,  as  my  peace,  and 
^y  W^  ^^  ^y  ^^^  ^^^  hardest  part  of  my  calling.  Through  mer- 
cy, he  enables  me  to  avoid  what  is  wrong  in  the  sight  of  men,  but 
it  seems  easier  to  deny  self  in  a  thousand  instances .  of  outward 
conduct,  than  in  its  ceaseless  endeavours  to  act  as  a  principle  of 
righteousness  and  power. 

John  Bunyan,  in  his  advanced  years,  took  notice  of  the  abom- 
inations that  had  still  too  much  place  in  his  heart ;  one  of  them 
was,  he  says,  a  secret  cleaving  to  the  covenant  of  works.  I  am 
sure  this  is  no  small  abomination  in  a  believer ;  but,  alas !  it 
cleaves  as  close  to  me  as  my  skin,  and  costs  me  many  a  sigh. 

I  am  yours,  be. 


LETTER  XIV. 
•   *  To  Mrs.  H****. 

September  2\,\1ilO, 
Madam, 

As  the  engagements  you  lately  have  entered  into  have  not 
separated  you  from  each  other,  I  can,  as  formerly,  write  to  you 
both  at  once.  I  should  be  glad  to  hear  that  the  third  in  our  cor- 
respondence was  as  comfortably  settled  in  H  likewise. 
However,  I  beg  you  will  mention  my  love  to  her  when  opportu- 
nity offers,  and  tell  her,  that  I  hope  to  be  always  mindful  of  her. 
Your  being  both  removed  from  Y— —  must  doubtless  be  a 
great  trial  to  her  ;  but  I  trust  she  will  find  an  all-sufficieut  God 
always  near,  to  make  good  every  change  and  every  loss. 


Jtet.  14.]  to  MRS.  tt»^«.  457 

.  I  cpngratalate  Mrs.  C****  on  her  maniage,  and  Mrs.  H****  on 
the  Lora's  goodness  in  preserving  her  Jife,  and  giving  her  a  living 
child ;  for  the  rest  I  may  speak  to  you  without  distinction.  The 
grace  of  God  enabled  you  both  to  walk  honoui*ably  in  single  life :  I 
trust  the  same  grace  will  enable  you  to  adorn  your  profession  in  the 
married  state.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  both  the  sphere  of  your  com- 
forts and  your  trials  is  now  enlarged.  Your  opportunities  for  use- 
fulness will  be  increased  \  so,  likewise,  will  the  snares  and  tempta- 
tions in  the  path  of  duty.  1  take  it  for  granted  that  you  are  very 
happy,  that  you  are  united  to  your  husbands,  not  only  by  marriage, 
but  by  mutual  affection,  and  what  is  better  still,  by  mutual  faith ; 
and  that,  as  you  sought  the  Lord's  direction  before  the  connex- 
ion was  formed,  so  you  came  together  evidently  by  his  blessing. 
What  then  shall  I  say  to  you  ?  Only,  or  chiefly  this — Beware  of 
being  too  happy — beware  of  idolatry.  Husbands,  children,  pos- 
sessions, every  thing  by  which  the  Lord  is  pleased  to  afford  us 
content  or  pleasure,  are  full  of  snares.  How  hard  is  it  tofbve  a 
creature  just  as  we  ought ;  and  so  to  possess  our  temporal  bles- 
sings as  neither  to  overvalue  nor  undervalue  them !  How  rare  is  it 
to  see  a  believer  go  on  steadily,  and  in  a  lively,  thriving  spirit,  if 
remarkably  favoured  with  prosperous  circumstances  !  It  is  hard, 
but  it  is  not  impossible :  impossible,  indeed,  it  is  to  us  ^  but  it  is 
easy  to  Him  who  has  said,  "  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  you."  My 
desire  is,  that  you  may  both  be  witnesses  of  the  Lord's  faithfulness 
to  this  his  eood  promise.  I  wish  you  health,  peace,  and  prosperi- 
ty; but,  above  all,  that  your  souls  may  prosper;  that  you  may 
still  prefer  the  light  of  God's  countenance  to  your  chief  joy ;  that 
you  may  still  delight  yourselves  in  the  Lord ;  be  daily  hungering 
and  thirsting  after  him,  and  daily  receiving  from  his  fulness,  even 
grace  for  grace ;  that  you  may  rejoice  in  his  all-sufficiency,  may 
taste  his  love  in  every  dispensation ;  that  every  blessing  of  his 
common  providence  may  come  to  you  as  a  fruit  and  token  of  his 
covenant  love ;  that  the  frame  of  your  spirits  may  be  heaven- 
ward, your  conduct  exemplary,  and  your  whole  conversation  may 
breaihe  the  meekness,  simplicity  and  spirituality  which  become  the 
gospel  of  Christ.  I  have  strong  confidence  in  the  Lord  for  you, 
my  dear  friends,  that  it  shall  be  even  thus:  and  it  will  rejoice  my 
heart  to  hear  that  it  is  so. 

However  the  Lord  may  be  pleased  to  indtilge  us  with  comforts 
and  mercies  here,  still  this  is  not,  cannot  be,  our  rest.  Indwelling 
sin,  the  temptations  of  Satan,  changing  dispensations,  and  the  vani- 
ty which  is  inseparably  entwined  with  every  earthly  connexion^ 
will  more  or  less  disturb  our  peace.  But  there  is  a  brighter 
world,  where  sin  and  sorrow  can  never  enter ;  every  moment 
brings  us  nearer  to  it : — ^then  every  imperfection  shall  ceiase,  and 
our  best  desires  shall  be  satisfied  beyond  our  present  conceptions : 

Vol.  IV.  33 


2S8  to  ARS.  c***».  [Let.  1 5w 

— then  we  shall  see  him  whom  having  not  seen  we  love;  we 
shall  see  him  in  all  his  glory,  not  as  now,  through  the  me- 
dium of  ordinances,  but  face  to  face,  without  a  veil,  we  shall  see 
him  so  as  to  be  completely  transformed  into  his  perfect  ima^e. 
Then,  hkewise,  we  shall  see  all  his  redeemed,  and  join  with  an  m- 
numerable  multitude  of  all  nations,  people,  and  languages,  in  sing* 
ing  the  triumphant -song  of  Moses  and  the  Lamb,  for  ever!  Then 
we  shall  look  back  with  wonder  on  all  the  way  the  Lord  led  us 
through  this  wilderness,  and  shall  say,  ^'  He  htith  done  all  things 
well.''  May  this  blessed  hope  comfort  our  hearts,  strengthen  our 
hands,  and  make  us  account  nothing  dear  or  hard,  so  that  we  may 
finish  our  course  with  joy.     Pray  for  us  ;  and  believe  me  to  be 

Your  affectionate  friend  and  servant. 


•  LETTER  XV. 

To  Mrs.  C»»»*. 

May  2,  1771. 

Mv  Dear  Madam, 

I  SPENT  about  five  weeks  at  London  lately,  which  has  oc- 
casioned me  to  delay  answering  your  letter  something  longer 
than  usual.  But  I  have  not  forgotten  you.  The  change  of  your 
situation  will  probably  change  the  methods  of  Satan  in  his  unwea- 
ried attempts  to  disturb  the  peace  of  those  who  love  the  Lord ; 
for  he  knows  how  to  suit  himself  to  our  circumstances,  whatever 
they  be. 

It  may  likewise  draw  forth  the  weakness  of  indwelling  sin,  in 
ways  difierent  from  your  former  experience,  and  give  you  new 
views  of  the  evil  and  deceitfulness  of  the  heart.  But,  as  I  trust 
you  had  an  eye  to  the  word.  Spirit,  and  providence  of  God,  when 
you  entered  into  the  marriage  relation,  and  sought  his  blessing  by 
repeated  prayer,  you  need  not  fear  but  his  ^ce  will  be  sufficient 
for  you.  The  more  the  Lord  blesses  you  in  outward  things*,  the 
'  more  sensible  you  will  be  (if  your  heart  is  kept  alive)  that  true 
happiness  is  only  to  be  found  in  himself;  for  sin  and  vanity  are 
closely  connected  with  every  thing  beneath  the  skies.  In  this 
view  I  trust  he  will  enable  you  to  number  your  crosses  among  your 
mercies,  as  necessary  to  keep  your  soul  from  cleaving  to  the  dust, 
and  to  quicken  your  prayers  and  desires  heaven-wards.  Our  ne- 
cessary connexions  in  this  life,  especially  those  which  are  most 
pleasing,  are  attended  with  many  snares.  May  the  Lord  keep 
you  sensible  of  the  danger,  that  you  may  be  continually  crying, 
"  Hold  thou  us  up,  and  then  we  shall  be  safe ;"  and  be  watchful 
against  the  first  appearances  of  decline  in  the  power  of  the  life  of 


Let.  15.]  TO  MRS.  c«HM>.  259 

feith.  I  aiD)  however,  fully  persuaded  that  a  due  attention  to 
the  concerns  of  our  relative  duties  and  callings  in  this  world,  can 
never  be  properly  hindcrances  to  us  in  walking  with  God.  These 
things  may  require  some  of  our  thoughts,  and  much  of  our  time ; 
but  if  we  can  manage  them  in  obedience  to  his  will,  and  with 
a  reference  to  his  glory,  they  are  then  sanctified,  and  become  re- 
ligious actions.  And  1  doubt  not  but  a  believer,  acting  in  a  right 
spirit,  maybe  said  to  worship  God  in  the  shop  or  kitchen,  np  less 
tnan  when  waiting  on  him  in  his  ordinances.  But  hQ.must  teach 
us  to  do  this,  for  we  have  no  sufiSciency  of  ourselves ;  yea,  he 
must  teach  us  and  strengthen  us  continually,  for  we  cannot  live  by 
past  experience,  without  a  new  supply  of  grace  from  hour  to  hour: 
and  this  he  has  promised.  Sec  Isa.  xzvii.  3.  It  is  not  the  action, 
(if  lawful,)  but  the  spirit  with  which  it  is  performed,  that  the  Lord 
regards.  We  are  naturally  desirous  to  do  some  great  thing ;  but 
all  the  law  is  fulfilled,  evangelically,  by  love.  And  a  person  calU 
ed  by  providence  to  sweep  the  streets,  if  he  does  it  to  the  Lord, 
performs  as  acceptable  a  service  as  another  who  should  preach 
the  Gospel  to  thousands.  As  to  cares  and  anxieties,  which  are 
unnecessary,  and  therefore  sinful,  you  will  not  be  wholly  without 
them  while  there  is  any  unbelief  and  sin  remaining  in  the  heart. 
Your  great  mercy  will  oe  to  be  humbled  for  them,  and  to  take  oc- 
casion from  all  that^ou  feel  amiss,  to  adore  the  free  grace  of  God, 
to  rejoice  in  the  perfect  work,  boundless  compassion,  and  prevail- 
ing intercession  of  Jesus.  He  knows  our  frame,  and  remembers 
that  wp  are  but  dust.  And  though  many  evils  arise  in  our  hearts, 
which  are  new  to  us,  they  are  not  new  to  him.  He  knew  what  we 
were,  and  what  we  should  be,  before  he  called  us ;  and  yet  it 
pleased  him  to  make  us  his  people. 

I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  you  have  uneasinesses  and  differences 
in  your  church ;  for,  through  mercy,  I  wish  well  to  all  the  Lord's 
assemblies,  without  respect  to  names  and  parties.  I  shall  be  glad 
to  hear  that  the  Healer  of  breaches  is  pleased  to  settle  you  com- 
fortably again.  In  the  mean  time,  I  ti*ust  you  will  account  it  a 
privilege  mat  vou  live  in  a  place  where  the  preachine  of  the  Gos- 
pel is  not  connned  to  one  denomination.  I  bless  God,  we  are  still 
favoured  with  peace  here.  Hay  we  prize  it :  it  is  that  to  the  soul, 
or  to  a  church,  which  health  is  to  the  body.  There  may  be  life, . 
but  there  can  be  no  comfort  without  it.  While  Satan  can  prevail 
to  break  a  people's  peace,  there  is  usually  a  full  stop  put  to  edifi- 
cation. There  may  be  preaching,  and  hearing,  and  praying ;  but 
every  thing  will  be  weak  and  languid.  For  the  Holy  Spirit,  whose 
emblem  is  the  peaceful  dove,  will  not  dwell  in  the  midst  of  strife 
and  contention.  Nay,  it  is  an  awful  token  that  he  is  withdrawn 
already,  when  these  evils  are  greatly  prevalent.  When  ordinan- 
ces are  powerful,  and  both  ministers  and  people  taste  that  the 


260  to  Mss.  c«*»#.  [Let.  16. 

Lord  is  gracious,  ibings  may  arise,  through  human  infmnity  and 
Satan's  subtlety,  to  threaten  the  continuance  of  peace ;  but  then  it 
will  be  as  at  the  breaking  out  of  a  fire,  where  every  oi^e  exertH 
himself  to  extinguish  it  before  it  can  get  to  a  head.  We  have  ma- 
ily  combustibles,  and  the  enemy  will  throw  sparks  upon  them  to 
set  all  in  a  flame ;  but  happy  they  who  so  value  peace  as  to  be 
willing  to  give  up  any  thing  but  truth  to  preserve  it.  We  join  in 
love  to  you  both.    Pray  for  us. 

I  am  affectionately  yours. 


LETTER  XVI. 

To  Mrs.  C****. 

Fdruary  14,  1772. 
1!)eail  Madam, 

1  FIND,  by  the  date  of  your  last,  that  1  have  not  been  so  punc- 
tual to  the  time  of  answering  as  formerly.  Indeed,  bu&iness  of 
one  kind  or  another  so  grows  on  my  hands,  that  I  am  in  arrears  to 
many. 

I  hope  the  Lord,  who  has  mercifully  given  you  children,  will  en- 
able you  to  bring  them  up  in  his  fear,  and  accompany  your  endea- 
vours with  his  blessing;  and  make  them  in  due  time  partakers  of 
his  grace,  that  they  may  know  and  love  the  Lord  God  of  their 
parents. 

Your  warfare,  ijt  seems,  still  continues ;  and  it  will  continue 
while  you  remain  here.  But  he  is  faithful  who  has  promised  to 
make  us  more  than  conquerors  in  the  last  conflict — then  we  shall 
bear  the  voice  of  war  no  more  for  ever.  Whatever  we  suffer 
by  the  way,  the  end  will  make  amends  for  all.  The  repeated  ex- 
perience we  have  of  the  deceitfulness  of  our  own  hearts,  is  a  means 
which  the  Lord  employs  to  make  us  willing  debtors  to  his  free 
grace,  and  to  teach  us  to  live  more  entirely  upon  Jesus.  He  id 
our  peace,  our  strength,  our  righteousness,  our  all  in  all.  And  we 
learn,  from  day  to  day,  that  though  diligence  and  watchfulness  in 
the  use  of  appointed  means  is  our  part,  yet  we  are  preserved  in 
life;  not  by  our  care,  but  his.  We  have  a  watchful  Shepherd,  who 
neither  slumbers  nor  sleeps ;  his  eyes  are  always  upon  nis  people, 
bis  arm  underneath  them ;  this  is  the  reason  that  their  enemies  can- 
not prevail  against  them.  We  are  conscious  to  ourselves  of  many 
unguarded  moments,  in  which  we  might  be  surprised  and  ruined,  if 
we  were  left  without  his  almighty  defence.  Yea,  we  often  suffer 
loss  by  our  folly ;  but  he  restores  us  when  wandering ;  revives 
us  when  fainting;  heals  us  when  wounded ;  and  having  oMidned 


Let.  16.]  rro  mrs.  c««*«».  261 

help  of  him,  we  continue  to  this  hour ;  and  he  will  be  oar  guard 
and  guide  even  unto  death.  He  has  delivered,  he  does  deliver  ; 
and  in  him  we  trust  that  he  will  yet  deliver  us. 

We  have  had  but  few  alterations  at ,  since  my  last ;  only 

that  of  late  the  Lord  has  been  pleased  to  give  his  word  a  more 
convincing  power  than  for  some  time  before.  We  have  had  se- 
veral awakened  within  these  few  months,  who  jappear  to  he  truly 
in  earnest.  Upon  the  whole,  though  we  have  many  causes  of  hu- 
miliation, I  hope  it  is  with  us  in  some  measure  according  to  that 
pleasing  description,  Acts,  ix.  31.  Help  us  to  praise  the  Lord 
for  his  goodness  to  us. 

As  to  myself,  there  is  little  variation  in  my  path.  The  law  of 
gin  in  my  members  distresses  roe ;  But  the  Gospel  yields  relief. 
It  is  given  me  to  rest  in  the  finished  salvation,  and  to  rejoice  in 
Christ  Jesus  as  myall  in  all.  My  soul  is  athirst  for  nearer  and 
fuller  communion  with  him.  Yet  be  is  pleased  to  keep  me  short 
of  those  sweet  consolations  in  my  retired  hours  which  I  could 
desire.  However,  I  cannot  doubt  but  be  is  with  me,  and  is  pleased 
to  keep  up  in  my  heart  some  sense  of  the  evil  of  sin,  the  beauty 
of  holiness,  my  own  weakness,  and  his  glorious  all-sufficiency. 
His  I  am,  and  him  I  desire  to  serve.  I  am,  indeed,  a  poor  servant ; 
but  he  is  a  gracious  Master.  O !  who  is  a  God  like  unto  Him, 
that  forgiveth  iniquity,  and  casteth  the  sins  of  bis  people  into  the 
depths  of  the  sea.  I  shall  not  always  live  thus — ^the  land  to  which 
we  are  going  is  far  different  to  this  wilderness  through  which,  he 
is  now  leading  us.  Then  we  shall  see  his  face,  and  never,  never 
sin. 

If  either  of  you  or  yours  should  come  towards  London,  we 
shall  be  glad  to  see  you ;  but,  if  not  here  we  hope  to  meet  in  glo* 
ry.  There  is  but  little  probability  of  my  seeing  you  in  York-^ 
shire.  We  may  meet,  however  at  present,  I  hope  we  do,  at  a 
throne  of  grace.  I  intreat  a  frequent  remembrance  in  your 
prayers,  both  of  me  and  mine.  This  is  the  best  proof  we  can  give 
of  our  love  to  our  frieiids,  to  bear  them  upon  our  hearts  before 
the  Lord.  Afford  roe  this,  and  I  will  pay  you  in  kind,  as  the 
Iiord  shall  enable  me. 

Yours  in  tbe  best  friendship. 


2^2  TO  MRS.  o«M*.  [Let  It^ 

LETTER  XVIL 
To  Mrs.  C****. 

Jiine  6,  177^ 
Mt  Deab  Friknds, 

I  MIGHT  appologize  for  my  long  silence,  but  yon  set  roe  the 
example ;  so  let  us  exchange  forgiveness.  You  are  bosy  ;  and  t 
can  assure  you  I  have  but  little  leisure.  However,  I  can  say,  with 
you,  that  roy  regard  remains.  I  still  remember,  with  pleasure, 
past  times,  in  which  we  have  taken  sweet  counsel  together  ;  and  I 
look  forward  to  the  happy  period  of  all  interruptions,  when  I  trust 
we  shall  meet  to  spend  an  everlasting  Sabbath  in  praise  to  Him 
who  hath  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  bis  blood. 

Mrs.  N*****  and  I  are  still,  by  the  Lord^s  mercy,  spared  to 
each  other.  She  joins  me  in  love  to  you  both,  and  to  your  bus- 
bands.  We  are  not  only  spared,  but  highly  favoured  with  healtli» 
peace,  and  an  abundance  of  temporal  mercies.  I  am  still  supported, 
and  in  some  measure  owned,  iu  the  pleasing  service  of  preaching 
the  glorious  Gospel  to  my  fellow-sinners  ;  and  1  am  still  happy 
in  an  affectionate,  united  people.  Many  have  been  removed  to  a 
better  world,  but  others  have  been  added  to  us ;  so  that  I  believe 
eur  numbers  have  been  rather  increased  than  diminished,  from 
year  to  year.  But  most  of  our  old  experienced  believers  have 
finished  their  course,  and  entered  into  their  rest.  Some  su^h  we 
had,  who  were  highly  exemplary  and  useful  omaments'to  tbehr 
profession,  and  very  helpful  to  the  young  of  the  (lock.  We  miss 
them ;  but  the  Lord,  who  has  the  fulness  of  the  Spirit,  is,  I  hope, 
bringing  others  forward  to  supply  their  places.  We  have  to  sing 
of  abounding  grace,  and  at  the  same  time  to  mourn  over  the 
aboundings  of  sin  ;  for  too  mauy  in  this  neighbourhood  have  re- 
sisted convictions  so  long,  that  I  am  afraid  the  Lord  has  given 
them  up  to  hardness  oT  heart ;  they  are  either  obstinately  deter- 
mined to  hear  no  more,  or  to  sit  quietly  under  the  preaching,  and 
Beem  to  be  sermon-proof.  Tet  I  hope  and  pray  for  a  day  of 
power  in  favour  of  some  Who  have  hitherto  heard  in  vain.  Bless- 
ed be  God,  we  are  not  without  some  seasons  of  refreshment,  when 
a  sense  of  bis  gracious  presence  makes  the  ordinances  sweet  and 
precious.  Many  miracles  he  has  wrought  among  us  the  twelve 
years  I  have  been  here.  The  blind  see,  the  deaf  hear,  the  lepers 
are  cleansed,  and  the  dead  are  raised  to  spiritual  life.  Pray  for 
OS,  that  his  arm  may  be  revealed  in  the  midst  of  us. 

As  to  myself,  I  have  had  much  experience  of  the  decettfulness 
of  ray  heart,  much  warfare  on  account  of  the  remaining  principle 


Let.  17.]  TO  tf&s.  c»WH».  26B 

of  indwelling  sin.  Without  this  experience  I  should  not  have 
known  so  much  of  the  wisdom,  power,  grace,  and  compaCssion  of 
Jesus.  I  have  good  reason  to  commend  him  to  others,  as  a  faith- 
ful Shepherd,  an  infallible  Physician,  an  unchangeable  Friend. 
I  have  found  him  such.  Had  be  not  been  with  me,  and  were  he 
not  mighty  to  forgive  and  deliver,  I^had  long  ago  been  trodden 
down  like  mire  in  the  streets.  He  has  wonderfolly  preserved  me 
in  my  outward  walk,  so  that  they  who  have  watched  for  my 
halting  have  been  disappointed.  But  He  alone  knows  the  in* 
numerable  backslidings,  and  the  great  perverseness  of  my  heart. 
It  is  of  biff  grace  and  mercy  that  I  am  what  I  am ;  having  ob- 
tained help  of  him,  I  continue  to  this  day.  And  He  enables  me 
to  believe  that  he  will  keep  me  to  the  end,  and  that  then  I  shall 
be  with  him  for  ever. 

I  hope  your  souls  prosper,  and  that  all  the  comforts,  employ- 
ments, cares,  and  trials  of  life,  are  .'sanctiSed  by  bis  blessing,  to 
lead  you  to  a  more  immediate  dependence  upon  himself;  that  he 
enables  you  to  glorify  him  in  your  families  and  conneuons,  and 
conforms  you  to  his  image,  in  love,  spirituality,  meekness,  and 
resignation.  Many  things  must  be  attended  to  in  their  places ; 
but  O  the  blessing  of  being  taught  to  do  and  to  bear  all  things  for 
his  sake !  The  life  of  faith  is,  to  be  continually  waiting  on  him, 
receiving  from  him,  rendering  to  him,  resting  in  him,  and  acting 
for  him.  In  every  other  view  the  present  state  is  vanity  and  vexa- 
tion of  spirit.  But  when  the  love  of  Jesus  is  the  leading  and  con- 
straining motive  of  our  conduct,  the  necessary  business  of  every 
day,  in  the  house,  the  shop,  or  the  field,  is  enobled,  and  makes  a 
part  of  our  religious  worship ;  while  every  dispensation  of  Pro- 
vidence, whether  pleasant  or  painful  to  the  flesh,  is  received  and 
rested  in  as  an  intimation  bf  bis  will,  and  an  evidence  of  his  love 
and  care  for  us.  Happy  t^ey  who  do  not  stop  short  in  names, 
forms,  and  notions,  but  are  desirous  of  knowing  what  effects  such  a 
gospel  as  we  profess  is  capable  of  producing  in  the  spirit  and 
conduct  of  those  to  whom'it  comes,  not  in  word  only,  but  in  the 
demonstration  and  powei^  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

I  commend  you  and  yours  to  the  Lord.  I  shall  always  be 
glad  to  hear  from  you ;  and  remain  your  affectionate  friend  aa4 
servant.  . 


S64  TO  MRS.  c*»»*.  [Let  la 

LKTTERXVm. 

To  Mrs.  C****. 

June  12, 1779. 
Mr  DB4&  Friend, 

Your  last  letter  was  long  in  coming;  but  I  have  deprived 
myself  of  all  right  of  compiaining  by  the  slowness  of  my  answer. 
Ton  plead  want  of  time;  allow  me  to  plead  the  same.  Daring 
the  first  years  of  our  correspondence  you  had  no  family,  and  I  had 
few  engagements,  compared  to  what  I  have  had  since.  As  we 
grow  older,  connexions  and  business,  multiply,  while  alas  !  for 
my  part,  my  ability  to  attend  to  the  many  things  which  call  upon 
me  seems  rather  to  decline.  My  regard  for  you  still  subsists,  and 
I  use  you  no  worse  than  I  am  constrained  to  use  many  others 
whom  I  have  long  and  dearly  loved,  and  who  have  equal  reasoa 
to  say  I  am  become  a  poor  correspondent. 

For  three  years  past  Airs.  N***^*  has  experienced  much  ill 
health ;  and  this  alone  has  abridged  me  of  many  of  those  hours 
which  I  used  to  employ  in  writing  to  my  friends.  Of  late  she 
has  been  better,  upon  the  whole,  but  seldom  comfortably  well  for 
many  weeks  together.  But  in  the  course  of  these  trials  we  have 
had  much  experience  of  the  Lord's  goodness  and  compassion  ; 
and  I  have  found  him,  and  still  find  him,  a  God  hearing  prayer, 
R  very  present  help  in  time  of  trouble.  She  joins  with  me  in  love 
to  you  both,  to  Mrs.  H****,  and  my  other  friend  at  Y  ■  , 

whose  name  used  to  stand  with  yours,  and  of  whom  I  have  heard 
nothing  for  a  long  time. 

The  life  of  leisure  you  once  had  is  now  changed  for  the  care  of 
a  family.  It  is  an  honourable  and  important  charge.  I  hope 
the  Lord  continues  to  bless  you  in  it ;  and  that  you  have  com- 
fort in  seeing  your  children  grow  up  like  olive  plants  about  your 
table.  May  he  give  you  wisdom  and  success  in  your  attempts  to 
bring  them  up  for  the  Lord ;  that  in  doe  time  you,  and  the  chil- 
dren he  has  given  you,  may  appear  together  at  his  right  hand. 

As  to  myself,  though  I  have  now  entered  the  sixteenth  year  of 
my  ministry  here,  and  have  almost  finished  the  fifty-fourth  of  my 
life,  my  health  and  strength  through  his  blessing,  continue  firm ; 
and  through  his  mercy  I  feel  myself  no  mOre  weary  in  his  service, 
or  weary  of  it,  than  at  first.  I  have  comfort  in  the  flock  he  has 
committed  to  my  care :  I  have  seen  many  of  them  depart  in 
peace,  and  I  rejoice  to  think  they  are  safely  housed  out  of  the 
reach  of  storms.  He  has,  from  time  to  time,  raised  up  others 
to  supply  the^r  places^  and,  in  general,  they  walk  agreeably  to 


Let.  18.]  TO  MI8S  €•••*.  266 

the  Gospel,  in  peace  among  themselves,  and  united  in  affection 
to  me.  I  speak  of  the  serious  people  chiefly.  Maltitudes  in  the 
town  are  mere  hearers ;  and  some  will  not  bear  at  all.  Bat  all 
behave  civil,  and  give  me  no  other  trouble  than  that  which  I  ought 
to  feel  most  sensibly,  a  concern  for  their  precious  souls,  that 
when  the  light  of  the  Gospel  shines  around  them,  there  should  be 
so  many  who  prefer  darkness  to  light,  because  their  deeds  are 
evil. 

Every  year,  and  indeed  every  day,  affords  me  new  proofs  of 
the  evil  and  deceitfulness  ^ray  heart,  and  of  my  utter  insufficien- 
cy to  think  even  a  good  thought  of  myself.  But  I  trust,  in  the 
course  of  various  exercises,  I  have  been  taught  more  of  the  power, 
grace,  and  all  sufficiency  of  Jesus.  I  can  commend  him  to  others, 
not  from  hearsay,  but  from  my  own  experience.  His  name  is 
precious ;  his  love  is  wonderful ;  his  compassions  are  boundless ; 
I  trust  I  am  enabled  to  choose  him  as  my  all,  my  Lord,  my 
strength,  my  Saviour,  my  portion.  I  lone  for  more  grace  to  love 
him  better  ;  for,  alas  !  I  have  reason  to  dumber  myself  among 
the  least  of  saints  and  the  chief  of  sinners! 

I  am  your$. 


Vou.  IV.  34 


TWENTY-ONE  LETTERS 

TO 

MR.  AND  MRS.  W**»». 

LETTER  1. 
To  Mr.  W***». 

Jan.  25,  1766. 
I>SAR  Sir, 

You  (and  consequtntly  Mrs.  W****,  for  you  cannot  suffer 
alone)  have  lately  been  in  the  furnace,  and  are  now  brought  safe- 
ly  out.  I  hope  you  have  much  to  say  of  the  grace,  care,  and 
skill  of  the  great  Refiner,  who  watched  over  you  ;  and  that  you 
liave  lost  nothing  but  dross.  Let  this  experience  be  treasured  up 
in  your  hearts  for  the  use  of  future  times.  Other  trials  will  come  : 
but  you  have  found  the  Lord  faithful  to  his  promise,  and  have 
good  encouragement  to  trust  him  again.  I  would  take  the  liber* 
ly  to  address  myself  particularly  to  dear  Mrs.  ****,  upon  a  theme 
my  heart  is  well  acquainted  with.  You  know  your  weak  side ; 
endeavour  to  set  a  double  guard  of  prayer  there.  Our  earthly 
comforts  would  be  doubly  sweet,  if  we  could  but  venture  them 
without  anxiety  in  the  Lord's  hands.  And  where  can  we  lodge 
Ibem  so  safely  f  Is  not  the  first  gift,  the  continuance,  the  blessing 
which  makes  them  pleasing,  all  from  him  ?  Was  not  his  design  in 
all  this  that  we  should  be  happy  in  them  ?  How  then  can  we 
fear  that  he  will  threaten  them,  much  less  take  them  away,  but 
with  a  view  to  our  further  benefit  ?  Let  us  suppose  the  thing  we 
are  most  afraid  of  actually  to  happen.  Can  it  come  a  moment 
sooner,  or  in  any  other  way  than  by  his  appointment  ?  Is  he  not 
gracious  and  faithful  to  support  us  under  the  stroke  ?  Is  he  not 
rich  enough  to  give  us  something  better  than  ever  he  will  take 
away  ?  Is  not  the  light  of  his  countenance  better  than  life  and  all 
its  most  valued  enjoyments  P  Is  not  this  our  time  of  trial,  and 
are  we  not  travelling  towards  a  land  of  light  ? — Methinks  when 
we  view  things  in  the  light  of  eternity,  it  is  much  the  same  wheth- 
er the  separating  stroke  arrives  at  the  end  of  seven  or  seventy 
years ;  since,  come  when  it  will,  it  must  and  will  be  felt ;  but  one 
draught  of  the  river  of  pleasure  at  God's  right  hand  will  make  us 


T 


Let.  l.J  TO  ME.  w*»*#.  ;^7 

forget  our  sorrows  for  ever ;  or  the  remembrance,  if  any,  will  only 
serve  to  beightea  our  joys.  Further,  what  life  did  he  lead  whom  we 
call  our  Master  and  our  Lord  ?  Was  not  he  a  man  of  sorrows  and 
acquainted  with  grief?  Has  be  marked  out  one  way  to  heaven 
with  his  painful  footsteps,  and  shall  we  expect,*  or  even  wish  to 
walk  19  another  $  With  such  considerations  as  these,  we  should 
endeavour  to  arm  our  minds^  and  pray  to  the  Lord  to  fix  a  sense 
of  them  in  our  hearts,  and  to  renew  it  from  time  to  time;  that 
when  changes  are  either  feared  or  felt,  we  may  not  be  like  the 
people  of  the  world,  who  have  no  hope,  no  refuge  no  throoe  of 
grace,  but  may  be  enabled  to  glorify  our  God  in  Xhe  fire,  and  givp 
proofs  that  his  grace  is  sufficient  for  us  in  every  state.  It  is  net* 
th^r  comfortable  for  ourselves,  nor  honourable  to  our  profession, 
IP  start  at  every  shaking  leaf.  If  we  are  sensible  of  this,  mourq 
over  our  infirmities  before  the  Lord,  and  faithfully  strive  in 
prayer  against  the  fear  that  easily  besets  us,  he  can,  9iid  he  will, 
strengthen  us  with  strength  in  our  souls,  aud  make  qs  more  than 
conquerors,  according  to  his  $ure  promise. 

A  proneness  to  idolatry  is  our  bosom  sin  :  I  have  smarted  for 
it.  I  dare  not  say  I  am  cured  }  yet  1  would  hope  the  Lord's 
wronderfiil  interchange  of  comforts  and  chastisements  have  apt 
beep  wholly  lost  upon  me,  but  have  been  accompanied  with  some 
nseasgre  of  bis  sanclifyiag  grace.  At  prWnt,  that  is,  ever  since 
my  settlement  at  ,  I  h^ve.been  favoured  with  an  interval 

of  ease.  I  never  had  so  long  aod  general  an  exemption  froQi 
sharp  trials.  When- 1  consider  and  feel  what  I  am,  I  am  amazed 
at  his  forbearance.  Surely  I  deserve  to  1^  visited  with  breach  up- 
on breach.  But  his  compassions  are  infinite.  Yet  1  must  not 
expect  to  have  always  fair  weather  in  a  changeable  world.  I 
would  desire  neither  to  presume  that  my  mountain  stands  strong, 
nor  yet  to  afflict  myself  with  needles^  apprehension  of  what  la 
day  may  bring  forth.  O  that  1  could  improve  the  present,  and 
cheerfully  commit  the  future  to  him  who  does  all  things  wUefy 
and  well,  and  has  promised  that  all  shall  work  toget}»er  fpr  goodi 
I  am,  dear  Sir, 

Your  very  afiectioaate  Itnd  obliged  servant. 


268  TO  MBS.  w»*»#.  [Let.  2. 

LETTER  II. 
ToMrs.  W»«». 

March  8,  n66. 
Mr  Dear  Madam, 

When  I  sent  you  my  well-meant,  though  free,  advice  id  my 
last  letier  to  Mr.  ****,  1  was  little  aware  bow  soou  I  should  be 
called  to  practise  my  own  lesson.  However,  upon  trial,  I  can 
confirm  what  I  then  said,  and  assure  you  upon  new  and  repeated 
experience,  that  the  Lord  is  good,  a  strong  hold  in  the  day  of 
trouble,  and  he  knoweth  them  that  put  their  trust  in  him.  The 
Lord  has  been  pleased  to  put  us  in  the  (ire  ;  but  blessed  be  his 
name,  we  are  not  burnt.  O  that  we  may  be  brought  out  refined, 
and  that  the  event  may  be  to  the  praise  of  his  grace  and  power ! 
Mrs.  ****  was  taken  ill,  on  Monday  the  24th  of  February ;  and 
firom  that  to  last  Wednesday  was  a  sharp  season.  But  let  me 
not  forget  to  tell  you,  that  this  visitation  was  accompanied  with 
spiritual  supports  both  to  her  and  to  myself.  I  hope  we  may  say, 
the  Lord  drew  near  in  the  day  of  distress,  and  gave  us  some  de- 
gree of  peaceful  resignation  to  his  will.  Yet  the  evil  heart  of  im- 
penitence and  unbelief  had  room  to  show  itself,  (I  speak  for  one,) 
and  I  have  the  greatest  reason  to  lie  ashamed  in  the  dust,  and 
cry,  '*  Unclean,  unclean."  But  truly  God  is  good  ;  he  considers 
our  frame  ;  he  remembers  we  are  but  dust ;  he  deligfateth  in  mer- 
cy, and  therefore  we  are  not  consumed. 

I  believe  the  Lord  gave  our  dear  people  a  remarkable  tender- 
ness of  spirit  to  sympathize  with  us  and  to  strive  in  prayer  as  one 
man  in  our  behalf.  O  what  a  privilege  is  it  to  be  interested  in 
the  prayers  of  those  who  fear  the  Lord  !  James,  v.  15.  I  hope  I 
shall  consider  her  recovery  in  this  view — as  the  effect  of  fervent 
prayer.  May  it  likewise  prove  an  occasion  of  much  praise  to  a 
prayer-hearing  God. 

May  my  soul  learn  by  what  I  have  lately  felt,  and  may  yon 
and  yours  learn,  at  a  cheaper  rate,  to  keep  closer  to  the  Lord 
than  ever.  After  all,  this  is  but  a  reprieve :  separation,  sooner 
or  later,  must  take  place.  The  day  must  come  when  all  creature- 
comforts  shall  vanish.  And  when  we  view  things  in  the  light  of 
eternity,  it  seems,  comparatively,  of  small  moment  whether  it  is 
this  year  or  twenty  years  hence.  If  we  are  interested  in  the  cov- 
enant of  grace  ;  if  Jesus  is  our  beloved,  and  heaven  our  home, 
we  may  be  cast  down  for  a  little  season,  but  we  cannot  be  de- 
stroyed ;  nay,  we  shall  not  be  overpowered.  Our  faithful  God 
will  surely  make  our  strength  equal  to  onr  day  :  be  that  ha^  de- 


Let.  3.]  TO  MBS.  w****,  269 

livered,  and  does  deliver,  will  deliver  to  the  end ;  and  it  will  not 
be  long  before  he  will  wipe  away  all  tears  from  our  eyes.  There- 
fore let  us  not  fear  ;  whatever  sufferings  may  be  yet  appointed  for 
OS,  they  shall  work  together  for  our  good ;  and  they  are  but 
light  and  momentary  in  comparison  of  that  exceeding  and  eternal 
weight  of  glory  to  which  we  are  drawing  nearer  every  hour. 

Well  the  day  is  coming  when  all  the  Lord's  people  who  are 
scattered  abroad,  who  praise  hiro  in  different  ages  and  different 
languages,  shall  be  collected  together,  and  stand,  with  one  heart, 
consent,  and  voice,  before  the  throne.  O  tho  glorious  assembly ! 
bow  white  are  their  robes,  how  resplendent  their  crowns,  how  me- 
lodious their  harps  !  Every  boar  the  chorus  is  augmented  by 
the  accession  of  fresh  voices  ;  and  ere  long  we  hope  to  join  them. 
Then  shall  we  remember  the  way  by  which  the  Lord  led  us 
through  this  dark  wilderness  ;  and  shall  see  that  all  our  afflictions, 
our  heaviest  afflictions,  were  tender  mercies,  no  less  than  our 
most  pleasing  comforts.  What  we  shall  then  see,  it  is  now  our 
privilege  and  duty  to  believe. 

Believe  me  to  be,  dear  Madam, 

Your  most  affectionate  and  obliged  servant. 


LETTER  III. 

To  Mrs.  W****. 

July  24, 1766. 
Vert  Dear  Madam, 

I  AH  truly  glad  that  Mr.  **^*  and  you  go  on  comfortably. 
For  so  I  trust  you  do,  upon  the  whole,  notwithstanding  the  inci- 
dental workings  of  unbelief  and  temptation.  These,  like  fits  of 
the  tooth-ach,  though  troublesome,  are  not  mortal ;  and  only 
give  us  painful  but  necessary  conviction  of  the  need  we  have  of  a 
compassionate  and  almighty  Physician.  They  are  like  winds  to 
the  trees,  which  threaten  to  blow  them  quite  down,  but,  in  reality, 
by  bowing  them  every  way,  loosen  the  ground  about  them,  circu- 
late the  sap,  and  cause  them  to  strike  their  roots  to  a  greater 
depth,  and  thereby  secure  their  standing.  If  a  tree  were  to  grow 
all  upwards,  and  the  roots  not  to  enlarge  in  proportion  to  the 
branches,  it  would  be  laid  flat  upon  tbe^  ground  by  the  first 
storm.  It  is  equally  unsafe  for  a  believer  to  be  top-beavy; 
and  therefore  the  Lord  suits  and  changes  bis  dispensations 
that,  as  they  increase  in  gifts,  knowledge,  judgment,  and  usefiil- 
nese,  they  may  grow  downwards  Itkewisei  and  increase  in  bu- 


270  TO  M^  w*****  [Let  4. 

nulity.  Since  we  have  been  enabled  to  put  ourselves  in  his  hands^ 
let  us  stand  to  oar  surrender,  and  leave  hioi  to  carry  on  his  work 
in  his  own  way.  It  is  a  commonly  received  maxim,  that  if  short* 
sighted,  feeble  man  were  to  have  the  distribution  of  the  weather, 
we  should  have  but  poor  harvests.  But,  indeed,  we  are  as  well 
qualified  to  direct  and  manage  the  seasons  of  the  year,  as  we  are 
to  prescribe  what  dispensations  are  most  proper  to  promote  the 
growth  of  grace  in  our  souls.  Rejoice,  therefore,  my  dear  friends, 
that  ye  are  God's  husbandry.  The  early  and  the  latter  rain,  and 
the  cheerful  beams  of  the  Sun  of  Rrighteousness,  are  surely  prom- 
ised to  ripen  your  souls  for  glory  ;  but  storms  and  frosts  likewise 
are  useful  and  seasonable  in  their  places,  though  we  perhaps  may 
think  we  could  do  better  without  them.  In  our  bright  and  lively 
frames,  we  learn  what  God  can  do  for  us;  in  our  dark  and  dujfl 
hours,  we  feel  how  little  we  can  do  without  him  ;  and  both  are 
needful  to  perfect  our  experience  and  to  establish  our  faith.  At 
one  lime  we  are  enabled  to  rejoice  in  God  ;  at  another  we  are 
;8eeking  after  him  sorrowing  :  these  different  seasons  are  equally 
good  in  their  turns,  though  not  equally  comfortable ;  and  there 
is  nothing  we  need  fear  but  security,  carelessness,  and  presump- 
;tion.  To  think  ourselves  rich  and  increased  wiih  goods,  or  to 
suppose  we  are  safe  a  moment  longer  than  while  depending  up* 
on  Jesus,  would  be  dangerous.  Let  us  pray  the  Lord  to  keep 
us  from  such  mistakes  ;  and  as  to  the  rest,  we  shall  do  well.  Lee 
us  be  faithful  and  diligent  in  the  use  of  all  appointed  means,  espe* 
cially  in  secret  exercises,  and  then  leave  him  to  lead  us  as  he 
pleaseth :  and,  though  our  path  should  lie  through  the  fire,  or 
through  the  water,  we  may  trust  his  power  and  love  to  bring  us 
«afely  through,  and  at  last  to  fix  us  in  a  wealthy  place,  where 
pur  warfare  and  tears  shall  cease  forever. 
I  am,  dear  Madam, 

Your  very  affectionate  and  obliged  servant. 


LETTER  IV. 

To  Mr.  W****. 

JtJy9, 1767.. 
Mt  Dear  Sir, 

I  CONGRATULATE  you  on  that  comfortable  declaration,  ^*  We 
have  an  Advocate  with  the  Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  rigfateons, 
who  now  appears  in  the  presence  of  God  for  us.*^  An  awful 
cause  we  had  to  manage  in  the  court  of  heaven  ;  and  when 


Let.  4.]  TO  MR.  w*»»».  371 

we  expected  to  be  asked,  what  we  could  say,  that  judgi&ent 
should  not  be  given  and  executed  speedily  against  us,  we  were 
dumb,  and  withont  plea.  We  could  not  deny  the  fact,  or  ofler  the 
least  amends.  We  coifid  neither  stand  nor  flee.  But  since  Jesns 
has  been  pleased  to  take  our  afiairs  in  hand,  how  are  appearances 
changed !  The  law  is  fulfilled,  justice  satisfied,  and "  heaven 
opened  to  those  who  were  upon  the  brink  of  despair  and  destruc- 
tion. And  Jesus  did  not  plead  for  us  once  only,  but  he  "  ever 
liveth  to  make  intercession  for  us."  Let  us  then  take  courage. 
That  word  uttermost  includes  all  that  can  be  said :  take  an  estim- 
ate of  sins,  temptations,  difficulties,  fears  and  backslidings  of  eve- 
ry kind,  still  the  word  uttermost  goes  beyond  them  all.  And 
smce  he  ever  liveth  to  make  intercession,  since  he  is  the  righteous 
one  who  is  always  heard,  since  his  promise  and  compassion  are 
unchangeable,  may  his  Spirit  enable  us  to  apply  the  conclusion, 
without  wavering,  to  'our  souls'  comfort,  that  be  is  indeed  able, 
and  willing,  and  determined,  to  save  us  (^en  to  the  uttermost. 

This  point  being  comfortably  settled,  that  he  will  neither  cast 
us  off  himself,  nor  suffer  any  to  pluck  us  out  of  his  hands,  but 
that  he  will  surely  bring  us,  through  fire  and  through  water,  to 
the  wealthy  place  his  love  has  provided  for  us ;  the  next  impor* 
tant  inquiry  is,  since  we  may  hope  for  heaven  at  the  end,  how 
may  we  attain  as  much  of  heaven  by  the  way,  as  is  possible  to 
be  hoped  for  in  this  defiled  state  of  things  f  Do  we,  indeed, 
through  grace,  hope  to  live  with  Jesus  liereaAer  ?  then  surely  we 
desire  to  walk  with  him  here.  When  I  speak  of  walking  with 
Jesus,  my  idea  is  helped  by  considering  how  it  was  with  his  dis- 
ciples. They  lived  in  his  presence ;  while  he  staid  in  a  place, 
they  staid  ;  and  when  he  removed,  they  went  with  him.  Having 
him  thus  always  near,  always  in  view,  the  sight  of  him  undoubt- 
edly gave  a  compositive  to  their  whole  behaviour,  and  was  a  check 
upon  their  eyes,  their  tongues,  and  their  actions.  Again,  when 
tbey  bad  difBcuhies  and  hard  questions  upon  their  minds,  they 
did  not  puxzle  themselves  with  vain  reasonings ;  when  they  were 
in  want,  they  looked  to  him  for  a  supply  ;  and  when  in  danger, 
though  liable  to  fi!ar,3Tt  recollecting  that  be  was  with  them,  they 
little  doubted  of  deliverance.  Now  I  want  a  faith  that  shall,  in 
thete  respects,  be  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen  $  i  mean,  to 
have  such  an  abiding  experimental  conviction  of  bis  nearness 
and  presence  as  if  I  actually  saw  him.  Surely  if  he  were  now 
npoQ  earth,  and  I  expected  a  visit  from  bim  this  aiteroeon,  my 
heart  would  bound  at  the  thouglu.  With  what  a  mixture  frf'joy 
and  fear  should  \  open  the  door  to  receive  him !  How  caotioiM 
sbootd  i  be,  not  to  do  or  say  any  thing  that  mifffat  grieve  Inmi 
and  sliorten  Ms  stay  with  me !  and  how gladly,  if  he  gawe  bm 


272  TO  ^R.  w***».  [Let.  5. 

leave  to  speak,  should  I  catch  the  opportouity  of  telling  him  aU  ! 
Surely  I  should  be  uowilling  to  let  him  go  till  he  had  healed  my 
breaches  and  renewed  my  strength  ;  till  he  had  taught  me  better 
how  to  serve  him,  and  promised  to  support  and  own  me  in  his 
service ;  and  if  1  heard  him  say,  with  an  audible  voice,  **  Though 
they  fight  against  thee,  they  shall  not  prevail,  for  I  am  with  thee 
to  deliver  thee,"  I  should  be  ready  to  bid  adieu  to  fear,  and  to  tri- 
umph in  the  Psalmist's  language,  ^'  Though  a  host  should  rise 
against  me,  in  this  will  I  be  confident."  But,  alas  !  my  unbe- 
lieving heart !  are  these  things  not  true,  even  at  present  ?  Is  he 
not  as  near  and  as  kind  ?  Have  I  not  the  same  reason  and  the 
same  encouragement  to  set  him  always  before  me,  and  to  tell  him 
my  <wants,  my  fears,  and  my  dangers,  as  if  I  saw  him  with  my 
bodily  eyes  f  From  hence  it  appears  with  what  propriety  the 
Christian  life  is  called  the  life  of  faith,  and  from  hence,  likewise, 
it  too  plainly  appears,  that  though  I  am  by  office  called  to 
teach  others,  I  have  need  to  be  taught  myself  the  first  and  plain- 
est principles  of  my  profession.  Lord,  increase  my  faith. 
I  am,  with  great,  sincerity,  dear  Sir, 

Your  most  obliged  and  affectionate  servant. 


LETTER  V. 
To  Mr.  W****. 

October  2,  1767, 
Dear  Sib, 

It  is  because  I  love  you  that  I  rejoice  to  think  you  are  in  the 
Lord's  hands,  and  that  I  desire  to  leave  you  there.  Happy  is 
the  state  of  a  believer ;  to  such,  all  things  are  for  good.  Healtli 
is  a  blessing,  and  a  great  mercy,  enabling  us  to  relish  the  com- 
'forts  of  life,  and  to  be  useful  in  our  generations ;  and  sickness  is 
ct  great  mercy,  likewise,  to  those  who  are  interested  in  the  cove- 
nant; for  it  is  and  shall  be  sanctified  to  wean  us  more  from  the 
present  world,  to  stir  up  our  thoughts  and  desires  heaVen-ward, 
to  quicken  us  to  prayer,  and  to  give  us  more  opportunity  of 
knowing  the  sweetness  and  suitableness  of  the  promises,  and 
the  power  and  wisdom  of  a  promise-performing  God.  Troubles 
have  many  uses  when  the  Lord  is  pleased  to  work  by  them  for 
the  good  of  his  children,  and  are  necessary,  upon  this  account, 
amongst  others,  that  we  should  miss  the  time,  relish,  and  meaning 
of  a  great  part  of  the  Bible  without  them.  I  hope  the  Lord 
blesses  yon  both  with  a  measure  of  submission  to  his  will,  confi- 


Let.  5.]  TO  MRS.  WMNM».  S73 

dence  in  his  love,  and  then,  with  respect  to  other  things,  you  will 
say,  All  is  well :  uncertainty  and  brevity  are  written  upon  all 
below:    therefore  may  we  be  enabled   both   to  weep  and  re- 

^*oice  as  those  who  know  we  shall  do  neither  very  long  Jiere. 
iy  the  Lord's  goodness,  it  is  appointed  both  for  you  and  for  us  to 
have  more  temporal  happiness  in  possession  than  the  neatest  part 
of  mankind  have  in  idea,  and  yet  our  best  here  would  be  a  poor 
all,  if  it  was  indeed  our  aU.  We  should  be  thankful  for  present 
things ;  but,  O  what  great  thankfulness  for  spiritual  blessings,  for 
pardon,  peace,  and  eternal  life !  Our  gourd|Lmust  one  day  wither ; 
out  our  portion  will  be  ours  for  ever*  Jesus,  the  fountain,  will  be 
full,  when  every  creature-stream  will  be  dried  up.  .  Such  discove- 
ries of  his  presence  as  we  have  a  warrant  to  pray  for  here,  are  suf- 
ficient to  comfort  us  under  all  the  pains,  losses,  and  trials  we  can 
feel  or  fear ;  but  still  it  will  not  appear,  i>y  all  that  he  will  give  or 
show  us  in  the  present  life,  what  we  sliall  be  when  we  see  him  as 
he  is,  and  arc  made  perfectly  like  him.  O !  then  let  us  rejoice  in 
the  Lord,  and  welcome  every  dispensation,  knowing  and  believing 
that  all  we  receive  is  conveyed  to  us  by  infinite  love  and  unerring 
wisdom. 

B****  A****  has  been  sick,  nigh  unto  death ;  we  know  not 
well  how  to  spare  her,  and  she  is  very  useful  in  her  situation,  and 
has  been  often  made  (though  without  her  intending  or  observing  it)  a 
teacher  to  me.  The  Lord  has  heard  prayer  on  her  behalf,  and  she 
is  raised  up  a^ain.  I  look  upon  our  old  believers  here,  as  misers 
look  upon  their  gold,  with  a  mixture  of  pleasure  and  pain.  I  am 
daily  apprehensive  some  of  them  will  be  called  home ;  but  I  long 
and  pray  that,  before  they  are  removed,  others  may  be  raised  up 
to  supply  their  places.  I  wish  I  had  it  more  at  heart.  The  work 
seems  (so  far  as  it  comes  under  my  knowledge)  much  at  a  stand 
as  to  new  awakenings  and  conversions.  I  trust  you  will  pray  for 
us,  that  the  arm  of  the  Lord  may  be  revealed.  Things  go  on 
comfortably  in  our  society :  I  can  see  some  grow ;  and  I  think 
there  are  few  of  them  with  whom  I  am  not  better  satisfied  than  with 
myself.  My  coldness  and  stupiditv,  when  I  am  retired  out  of  sight, 
is  amazing.  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  I  hope  I  can  say  it  is  buroen- 
some,  and  robs  me  of  much  of  the  comiort  I  might  otherwise  en- 
joy in  the  many  blessings  the  Lord  affords  me.  But  why  should 
I  wearv  you  with  my  complaints  ?  Let  us  turn  our  thoughts  to  Je- 
sus. In  him  we  have  peace,  wisdom,  righteousness,  and  power. 
He  knows  our  weakness,  wants,  and  temptations,  and  is  every  way 
a  suitable  High  Priest  and  Saviour.  May  the  Lord  ^ve  you  a 
s€nse  of  his  love  while  you  are  reading  this.  May  his  peace  rest 
in  your  hearts,  and  his  presence  dwell  in  your  house.  May  your 
childreii  be  all  taught  of  God,  and  your  servants  be  the  servants  of 
Jesus.    May  we  ail  be  daily  growmg  in  his  knowledge  and  grace, 

Vol.  IV.  36 


374  TO  iiEs«  w<MHi«.  [Let;  6. 

be  euided  W  fats  counsel  through  the  present  life,  and  at  last  meet 
in  gioiy.  Believe  that  our  hearts  are  with  you,  and  that  we  have 
an  afiectionate  sense  of  all  your  kindness,  particularly  in  coming  to 
see  us. 

I  am  your  affectionate  and  obliged. 


LETT£R  VI. 

*    To  Mrs.  W****. 

Oei^er  31,  1767. 
Mr  Dear  Madam, 

I  HEAR  you  still  continue  poorly  in  health ;  shall  I  say  I  am 
sorry  ?  1  hope  this  is  allowable ;  we  have  the  best  example  and 
authority  to  sympathize  with  suffering  friends.  Yet  our  sorrow 
should  be  mixed  with  joy ;  for  we  are  directed  to  reioice  always 
in  the  Lord ;  always — ^not  only  when  we  are  well,  but  when  we 
are  sick ;  not  only  upon  the  mount,  but  in  the  valley.  I  rejoice, 
therefore,  that  you  are  in  safe  hands ;  in  the  hands  of  Him  whom 
you  love  best,  and  who  best  loves  you.  You  need  not  fear  that 
he  will  lay  more  upon  you  tha^  you  are  able  to  bear,  for  he  has 
engaged  his  faithfulness  to  the  contrary.  I  trust  this  sickness  of 
your  body  is,  and  shall  be,  for  the  health  of  your  soul ;  yea,  per- 
haps even  now,  if  you  were  able  to  write,  you  would  tell  me  that 
as  your  afflictions  abound,  your  consolations  in  Christ  do  much 
more  abound.  All  the  fruit  shall  be  to  take  away  sin ;  therefore  be 
of  good  courage :  behold  we  count  them  happy  that  endure ;  yea, 
blessed  are  those  servants  whom  the  Lord  chastiseth.  Now  he 
deals  with  you  as  a  child ;  he  intends  this  dispensation  to  revive 
in  you  a  sense  of  the  uncertainty  and  vanity  of  things  here  below, 
to  give  you  a  nearer  and  closer  perception  of  the  importance  and 
reality  of  unseen  things ;  to  afford  you  the  honour  of  a  conformity 
to  Jesus,  who  went  through  sufferings  to  the  kingdom.  But  how 
different  were  his  sufferings  from  yours  ?  There  is  no  sting  in  your 
rod,  nor  wrath  in  your  cup ;  your  pains  and  infirmities  do  not 
cause  you  to  sweat  blood,  nor  are  you  left  to  cry  out,  "  My  God, 
my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me?"  Then  Again,  our  trials  are 
intermixed  with  abundance  of  mercies;  temporal  mercies,  which 
appear  exceedingly  valuable  to  those  who  feel  the  want  of  them, 
and  have  a  load  or  poverty,  neglect,  &c.  superadded  to  grievous 
pains  and  sicknesses,  to  struggle  with ;  but,  especially,  spiritual 
mercies.  In  a  time  of  sickness  we  may  see  in  the  strongest  light  the 
privilege  of  being  a  believer,  to  have  a  right  to  cast  ourselves  and 
our  all  upon  the  covenant  mercies  of  a  Qw  in  Christ.    Sickness  is 


Let  6.]  TO  KRS.  WMHw.  275 

a  bitter  evil,  indeed,  to  those  who  have  no  God  to  go  to ;  who  can 
have  no  relief  from  their  earthly  iriends,  and  yet  know  not  where 
else  to  apply  either  for  patience  or  deliverance.  When  you  med- 
itate on  these  things,  I  trust  you  find  your  heart  sweetly  composed 
into  a  frame  of  resignation  to  bear,  as  well  as  to  do,  the  will  of 
your  heavenly  Father ;  and  though  your  recovery  may  be  slow, 
and  your  physicians  shake  their  heads,  as  uncertain  what  to  try  for 
you,  yet  when  the  fit  time  is  come,  the  great  Physician  who  has 
taken  charge  of  vour  case  can  heal  you  presently.  Diseases  hear 
bis  voice.  To  the  Lord  our  God  belong  the  issues  from  death.  I 
pray  as  I  am  enabled,  for  your  recovery  at  the  best  season,  but  es- 
pecially that  the  rod  may  be  sanctified,  and  you  brought  forth  from 
the  fiirnace,  refined  as  gold. 

I  sympathize  likewise  with  my  dear  Mr.  **** ;  nay,  perhaps  he 
is  more  to  be  pitied  than  you.     You  know  what  you  feel,  but  his 
affection  will  be  apt  to  aggravate  every  circumstance,  and  his  ima- 
gination be  busy  in  paintmg  and  foreboding  sceneis  which  I  hope 
will  not  yet  take  place.     I  know  what  it  is,  by  repeated  experi- 
ence, to  watch  night  and  day  with  anxiety  over  a  life  in  mauy  res- 
pects dearer  to  me  than  my  own.     I  have  been  a  long  student  in 
this  school,  and  can  tell  you,  my  dear  Madam,  by  experience,  that 
the  Lord  our  God  is  faithful  and  merciful.    When  he  makes  two 
person^  happy  in  a  mutual  affection,  he  sees  now  and  then  a  need- 
be  to  put  their  faith  and  patience  to  a  trial,  and  to  quicken  them  to 
Crayer  by  touching  them  where  they  are  most  sensible  -,  hereby  he 
umbles  us  for  the  idolatry,  unbeliei,  and  ingratitude  of  our  hearts. 
But  he  pities  us  still,  and  takes  occasion,  from  our  distresses,  to 
make  the  suitableness  and  seasonablencss  of  his  mercy  and  power 
more  clearly  manifested.     Some  time  ago  this  was  my  trial.    I 
know  that  youthen  bore  a  friendly  part  with  me,  and  remembered 
me  at  the  throne  of  grace.     I  hope  I  shall  now  domv  best  to  repay 
your  labour  of  love.     I  wish  we  may  learn,  from  all  our  changes, 
to  be  sober  and  watchful,  not  to  rest  in  grace  received,  in  experi- 
ence or  comforts,  but  still  to  be  pressing  forward,  and  never  think 
ourselves  either  safe  or  happy,  but  when  we  are  beholding  the  glo- 
ry of  Christ,  by  the  light  of  faith,  in  the  glass  of  the  Gospel.     To 
view  him  as  God  manifest  in  the  fiesh,  as  all  in  ail  in  himself,  and 
all  in  all  for  us;  this  is  cheering,  this  is  strengthening,  this  makes 
hard  things  easy,  and  bitter  things  sweet.     This  includes  all  I  can 
wish  for  my  dear  friends,  that  you  may  grow  in  grace,  and  in  the 
knowledge  of  Jesus.    To  know  him,  is  the  shortest  description  of 
true  grace ;   to  know  him  better,  is  the  surest  mark  of  growth  in 
grace  ;  to  know  him  perfectly,  is  eternal  life.     This  is  the  prize  of 
our  high  calling ;   the  sum  and  substance  of  all  we  can  desire  or 
hope  for  is,  to  see  him  as  be  is,  and  to  be  like  him ;  and  to  this 


^6  TO  MB.  WMM.  [Let.  7. 

boDOUr  and  faappineBS  he  will  surely  bring  all  that  love  his  name. 
We  need  not  think  much  of  any  way  that  leads  to  this  blessed  end. 
I  am,  with  a  sincere  regard, 
Your  most  affectionate  friend  and  obliged  servant. 


LETTER  VII. 
To  Mr.  >¥••••. 

October  29,  1768- 
My  Dear  Sir, 

I  HOPE  your  souls  prosper ;  that  the  Lord  hears  from  you  and 
you  from  him  often  ;  and  that  yoa  both  live  a  life  of  fetth  in  the 
Son  of  God,  are  strong  in  his  might,  and  comforted  by  refreshing 
views  of  his  glory,  'fiie  great  secret  of  our  profession  (O  that  I 
could  learn  it  better !)  is  to  b^  looking  at  Jesus.  I  am  a  stranger 
to  the  court ;  but  I  am  told  that  those  who  wait  there  form  them- 
selves into  little  parties,  have  their  own  conversation,  or  make 
their  remarks  upon  what  passes,  till  the  king  appears ;  then  every 
thing  is^  hushed  and  dropped,  and  their  attention  is  fixed  upon  him 
alone.  O !  that  thus,  by  the  eve  of  faith,  we  might  obtain  such  a 
sight  of  the  glory,  beauty,  and  love  of  King  Jesus,  as  might  unite 
our  scattered  thoughts,  and  attract  all  our  powers  and  affections  to 
himself.  But,  alas !  we  are  prone  (at  least  I  may  speak  for  my- 
self) to  forsake  the  fountain  of  living  waters,  and  to  hew  out  bro- 
ken cisterns.  Instead  of  receiving  him,  I  am  often  looking  in  my- 
self for  something  to  enable  me  to  do  without  him,  or  at  least  for 
something  to  strengthen  the  warrant  he  has  given  me  in  his  word 
to  come  to  him.  The  Lord  be  merciful  to  my  unbelief  and  slow- 
ness of  heart ;  though  taught  and  warned  again  and  again,  I  am 
frequently  repeating  the  old  mistake,  and  seeking  the  living  amon? 
the  dead.  I  have  some  faint  idea  of  the  life  of  faith,  and  can  talk 
a  little  about  it ;  but  to  experience,  myself,  the  power  of  what  I 
preach  to  others,  this  is  too  often  what  I  find  not.  Yet  I  must  praise 
him ;  if  I  did  not,  might  not  the  very  stones  cry  out  and  shame  me  ? 
for  surely  he  has  dealt  marvellously  with  me.  He  found  me  in  a 
waste  howling  wilderness ;  in  more  than  the  prodigal^s  distress ; 
with  my  heart  full  of  madness  and  rebellion,  and  beset  with  horror 
on  every  side.  In  this  state  1  was  when  he  first  passed  by  me,  and 
bid  me  five.  He  sent  from  on  high,  and  delivered  me  out  of  deep 
waters.  And  O,  what  has  he  not  done  for  me  since !  given  me  to 
know,  yea,  to  preach  his  Gospel ;  cast  my  lot  in  a  pleasant  place ; 
filled  and  surrounded  me  with  mercies  on  every  side ;  and  spoken 
good  concerning  me  for  a  great  while  to  come,  even  for  ever  and 


L€U  8.]  TO  mi.  w»**#.  277 

^ver.*     Praise  the  Lcxrd,  O  my  soul !  Come,  my  d^ar  friends,  and 
•magnify  the  Lord  with  me,  and  let  us  exalt  his  name  together. 
I  am,  my  dear  friend, 

Your  most  affectionate  and  obliged  servant* 


LETTER  Vni. 
To  Mr,  W**»*. 


July  8,  1769. 


My  Dear  Sir, 

I  HAVE  been  thinking  of  you  and  yours  upon  my  knees,  and 
would  be  thankful  for  Uie  int6rmation  I  had  yesterday  from  Mr. 
****,  that  the  Lord  is  raising  you  up  again.  Indeed,  I  have 
heard  that,  in  your  illness,  you  were  favoured  with  such  sweet 
foretastes  of  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed,  that  death  appeared 
to  you  not  only  disarmed  of  its  sting,  but  a  very  desirable  messen* 
ger  ;  and  that  you  had  strong  hopes  that  the  hour  of  your  release 
was  at  hand.  In  such  a  frame  it  is  no  wonder  that  you  longed  to 
depart  and  be  with  Christ ;  yet,  as  man^  will  have  cause  to  re- 
joice at  your  recovery,  I  hope  you  likewise  are  made  sweetly  re* 
conciled  to  life,  and  willing  to  wait  and  suffer  yet  a  little  loneer,  if 
by  any  means  ihe  Lord  shall  be  pleased  to  honour  you  witn  use^ 
fulness  in  your  station.  If  we  look  to  ourselves  only,  and  consider 
our  immediate  interest,  who  that  has  a  good  hope  through  grace 
would  not  wish  to  be  out  of  this  wilderness,  and  at  hom^  in  our 
Father's  house,  where  all  temptations  and  enemies  shall  be  shut 
out,  and  we  shall  enjoy  the  unclouded  light  of  his  countenance  for 
ever,  without  the  least  abatement  or  interruption.  ,But  St.  Paul, 
though  he  had  been  taken  up  into  the  third  heaven,  and  knew 
more  of  the  state  of  glorified  spirits  than  was  perhaps  ever  vouch^ 
safed  to  a  child  of  Adam  ;  and  though,  from  the  tastes  he  had  re* 
ceived,  be  had  very  strong  desires  to  be  at  the  fountain  head,  yet 
was  content  to  defer  the  mil  possession  of  his  happiness  a  little 
longer,  if  in  the  mean  time  the  Lord  woukl  be  pleased  to  make 
him  serviceable  to  his  church  and  people.  At  the  longest,  the 
time  is  short ;  ten,  or  twenty,  or  fifty  years,  is  but  a  span  in  com^ 
parison  to  the  eternity  that  awaits  us.  And  though  we  should 
weep  all  the  while,  yet  our  tears  would  ere  long  be  wiped  away. 
If  we  consider  this  life  chiefiy  with  respect  to  the  things  which 
make  up  a  great  part  of  it,  as  eating,  drinking,  buying,  selling, 
putting  on  our  clothes,  and  putting  them  off,  a  spiritual  mind  may 
well  be  weary  of  such  a  train  of  necessary  trifling.  But  besides 
that,  even  the  common  actions  of  life  are  sanctified,  and  become  a 


278  TO  MR.  w****.  [Leu  9. 

part  of  our  acceptable  service,  when  perfocmed  in  a  spirit  of  ftitb, 
love,  and  dependence ;  this  life,  poor  as  it  is  in  itself,  will  become 
exceedinglv  important  in  one  view.  It  is  the  only,  opportunity  we 
have  to  hold  forth  the  power  of  Gospel  truth  in  the  midst  of  a 
crooked  and  perverse  generation,  to  show  our  readiness  to  bear 
the  cross,  and  to  tread  in  the  steps  of  a  suffering  Saviour,  and  to 
be  subservient  to  the  promoting  his  cause,  and  the  encouragement 
of  his  people.  Many  of  our  years  were  wasted  in  the  service  of 
sin  before  we  knew  the  Lord ;  and  though  they  are  happy  who  are 
taken  out  of  this  vain  world  soon  after  their  conversion,  yet  I  think 
they  are  more  honoured  who  are  preserved  to  bear  a  testimony 
to  his  goodness,  and  to  be  useful  in  tlieir  generation  for  a  course 
of  years.  Therefore,  though,  jf  the  Lord  had  seen  fit  to  remove 
you,  you  would  have  escaped  some  trials  which  in  this  world  you 
will.be  sure  to  meet  with,  and  would  have  had  your  hungerings 
after  Jesus  abundantly  satisfied  ;  yet,  upon  the  account  of  dear 
Mrs.  **^j  your  chilaren,  your  place  in  the  church  and  in  the 
world,  as  well  as  upon  my  own  account,  I  cannot  but  rejoice  that 
there  is  a  prospect  of  yoeur  continuance  longer  on  this  side  the 
grave. 

When  1  look  at  the  state  of  the  land,  I  know  not  how  to  spare 
one  praying  person.  They  are  the  chairots  and  the  horsemen  of 
our  Israel ;  and  I  hope  you  will  live  to  be  an  earnest  and  preva- 
lent pleader  in  behalf  oi  a  sinful  people- 
It  IS  a  happy  and  most  desirable  trame  to  be  ready  and  willing 
either  to  live  or  die,  and  to  be  enabled  so  absolutely  to  give  our- 
selves up  to  the  Lord's  disposal  as  to  have  no  choice  oiour own 
either  way,  but  only  intent  upon  improving  to-day,  and  cheerfully 
to  leave  to-morrow  and  all  beyond  it  in  his  hands,  who  does  all 
things  well. 

I  am,  dear  Sir, 

Your  affectionate  and  obliged  servant. 


LETTER  IX. 
To  Mr.  W****. 

December  2,  1769. 
Mv  Dear  Sir, 

I  KKow  our  hearts  ^re  all  alike  by  nature  ;  but  I  have  reason 
to  believe  that  the  general  tenour  of  your  experience  is  very  di£i 
ferent  from  mine  ;  yea,  you  tell  me  so  yourself.  Through  mercy, 
I  am  favoured  widi  daylight  which  is  sufficient  to  see  by ;  but  the 
sunshine,  in  which  many  of  God^s  people  rejoice^  is  not  my  por- 


Let.  9.]  to  MB.  w*»*«.  279 

tion*  An  evil  heart  of  unbelief  fills  my  sky  with  many  clouds  ; 
and  though,  so  for  as  the  foundations  of  fetith  and  hope  ^re  con- 
cerned, I  can  and  do  rejoice,  believing  that  the  Lord  has  loved 
me  with  an  unchangeable,  everlasting  love,  and  that  he  will  surely 
do  me  good  ;  yet  I  am,  one  way  or  other,  so  beset  and  cramped 
in  my  soul,  that  as  to  my  frames,  I  often,  Tor  the  most  part,  go 
moumin?  all  the  day  long.  I  trust  I  have  the  name  of  a  child  in 
the  Loro^s  family,  yet  I  may  fully  compare  myself  to  a  servant ; 
for  I  set  forth  many  a  dish  to  my  Master's  guests,  of  which  (to  my 
own  apprehension)  I  am  not  suffered  to  taste.  The  Lord  sup- 
ports, yea,  he  owns  me,  in  my  public  work  ;  he  graciously  keeps 
me  in  my  outward  walk  :  these  are  unspeakable  mercies.  O  that 
I  could  praise  him  more  on  account  of  them !  But  as  to  the  state 
of  things  between  him  and  my  own  soul— alas !  I  could  write  a 
roll  that,  like  EzekiePs,  would  be  fiill  of  mpurning,  lamentation, 
and  wo.  Well,  he  best  knows  why  it  is  his  pleasure  I  should  live 
at  such  a  distance,  as  to  sensible  communion.  He  has  a  right  to 
do  what  he  will  with  his  own  ;  and,  so  far  as  his  sovereignty  and 
wisdom  are  concerned,  I  desire  to  .submit.  If  he  is  pleased  to  ac- 
cept my  worthless  name,  to  own  my  feeble  services,  to  preserve 
me  from  the  errors  of  the  times,  and  to  keep  me  from  being  a 
scandal  to  my  profession  ;  though  he  appoints  me  a  wearisome 
conflict  with  indwelling  sin,  still  Fought  to  praise  him.  Ere  long 
this  conflict  will  be  over  ;  I  shall  not  always  be  burdened  with 
this  body  of  death.  Only  I  pray  that,  whether  I  enjoy  the  light 
of  his  countenance  or  not,  at  least  I  may  desire  it,  thirst  after  it  as 
the  hart  after  the  water-brook,  and  feel  an  emptiness  in  all  earthly 
things  without  it.  If  my  soul  be  not  satisfied  with  him  as  with  mar- 
row and  fatness,  I  pray  that  it  may  not  be  satisfied,  or  take  up 
with  any  thing  short  of  him.  Rather  let  the  whole  world  appear 
like  a  wilderness  to  me,  than  that  I  should  be  content  that  the 
Comforter,  who  should  comfort  my  soul,  is  at  a  distance  from  me.* 

In  the  mean  time,  as  I  have  but  a  small  portion  of  spiritual  con- 
solation, so  I  am  not  much  exposed  to  the  fieiy  darts  and  black 
temptations  of  Satan.  He  fights  against  me,  it  is  true,  and  too 
often  gains  advantage  ;  but  he  is  not  suffered  to  come  upon  me  in 
a  way  of  storm  and  terror,  as  he  is  against  many  ;  neither  have  I 
outward  trials  worth  mentioning.  I  believe  the  Lord  keeps  a  kind 
of  balance  with  his  people  ;  afliictions  and  comforts  are  set  one 
against  the  other  ;  and  perhaps  this  may  be  one  reason  why  I  am 
led  thus.  My  day  at  present  is  easy,  and  therefore  my  strength  is 
bat  small.  If  he  should  at  any  time  call  me  to  harder  service,  I 
may  depend  upon  his '  feithfulness  and  care  to  administer  propor- 
tionable support. 

Adored  be  the  grace  that  has  enabled  us  to  make  the  choice  of 
Moses,  and  to  prefer  even  the  complaints  and  exercises  of  the  pea- 


280  TO  HR.  w****.  [Let.  10. 

pie  of  God,  to  ail  the  seemiQ^  pleaftores  of  a  blmded  worid.  The 
weeDiqi;  of  believers  is  happier  than  the  mirth  of  careless  sinners. 
I  call  neartilv  say,  Let  not  my  soul  eat  of  their  dainties^  My  first 
desire  would  be,  to  rejoice  in  the  Lord's  presence  ;  bat  till  this  is 
granted,  I  would  make  it  my  £(fecond  to  go  mourning  after  him  till  1 
find  him.  • 

And  may  the  Lord  give  to  my  dear  friends  who  have  a  more 
sensible  enioyment  of  his  love,  a  proportionable  measure  of  a 
humble  andf  watchful  spirit,  that  you  may  abide  in  his  light  con- 
tinually. 

I  am  your  much  obliged  scr^'ant. 


LETTER  X. 

To  Mn  W**»*. 

Duember  16,^770. 
My  Dear  Sir, 

Blessed  be  God  that  he  hath  given  us  the  beginnings  of  the 
life  of  faith,  and  that  he  hath  favoured  us  with  any  growth  ;  but 
there  is  an  unsearchable  fulness,  a  rich  treasure,  whicn  can  never 
be  exhausted  ?  and  we  have  as  yet  received  but  little  of  the  Lord 
in  comparison  of  what  he  has  yet  in  reserve  for  us*  May  not  a 
believer  be  taught  something  by  what  we  frequently  observe  of 
the  men  of  the  world  ?  Perhaps,  when  such  a  one  first  enters  upon 
business  in  a  little  narrow  way,  he  is  in  some  measure  content  with 
a  moderate  income,  and  thinks  himself  happy  if  he  can  bring  the 
year  round,  pay  his  debts,  and,  as  the  saying  is,  make  both  ends 
meet.  But  by-and-bv  his  acquaintance  enlarges,  his  trade  in- 
creas'es,  his  hundreds  oecome  thousands  ;  then  he  pities  his  former 
«mall  way,  he  pushes  all  his  interest,  strikes  into  new  branches  ; 
fae  began  with  a  view  to  a  maintenance,*  but  now  he  pushes  for  a 
great  fortune,  and,  like  the  insatiable  fire,  the  more  he  gets,  the 
more  he  craves.  Well,  let  the  world  have  the  world  ;  the  whole 
of  it  can  make  but  a  poor  all.  However,  the  Lord  grant  that  yoU 
and  1  may  be  thus  wise  in  our  generation.  I  remember  when  the 
Lord  first  set  me  up,  (if  I  may  so  speak,)  my  heavenly  trade  lay 
in  a  small  compass,  my  views  were  very  narrow  ;  I  wanted  to  be 
saved,  and  alas  !  I  hardly  looked  furtlier  than  a  bare  subsistence 
and  security  ;  but  since  the  Lord  has  been  pleased  in  a  measure 
to  bless  me,  I  hope  I  feel  a  desire  of  being  rich.  May  I,  and  all 
whom  I  love,  be  thus  minded  ;  not  be  satisfied  that  we  have  life, 
but  labour  in  his  appointed  way,  that  we  may  have  it  more  abund- 
antly ;  not  only  to  believe,  but  to  be  strong  in  faith  ;  not  only  to 


Let.  10.]  TO  MR.  w**»*.  •  281 

desire,  but  to  hunger,  and  thirst,  and  pant ;  to  open  our  mouths 
wide,  that  we  may  be  filled  with  bis  goodness,  as  well  as  taste  that 
he  is  gracious.  O  what  a  happiness  is  it  to  be  lively  and  thriving 
in  the  ways  of  Grod  ;  to  drink  into  the  spirit  of  Jesus,  and  to  walk 
with  that  simplicity,  dependence,  and  heavenly  mindedness  which 
become  a  ton  or  a  daughter  of  the  Lord  Almighty  !  I  trust  the 
Lord  has  ^iven  me  thus  to  will ;  but  when  I  would  do  good,  evil  is 
present  with  me*  On  this  account  our  life  is  a  warfare  y  and  it  is 
never  well  with  us  but  when  we  find  it  so*  But  we^have  a  good 
captain,  good  armour,  good  provisions,  infallible  balm  to  heal  our 
wounds,  and  (what  one  would  think  might  make  even  a  coward 
fight)  are  assured  of  the  victory  beforehand.  I  shall  be  glad  to 
hear  the  success  of  your  last  campaign.  I  trust  you  have  been 
enabled,  in  the  Lord^s  strength,  to  put  some  of  your  enynies  to 
flight ;  that  some  spiritual  Goliah  who  came  out  against  you,  has 
been  cut  down  by  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  and  that  like  Gideon's 
soldiers  of  old,  you  are  still  pressing  on,  and,  though  faint,  yet 
pursuing.  To  be  sure,  fighting  is  warm  service,  flesh  and  blood 
will  not  much  like  it ;  but  the  time  is  short,  we  shall  not  fight  al- 
ways ;  we  are  going  where  we  shall  hear  the  voice  of  war  no 
more  for  ever.  A  few  brushes  more,  and  the  King  will  say  to  us, 
Come  near,  and  set  your  feet  upon  the  necks  of  your  enemies. 
Then  the  redeemed  shall  enter  into  the  kingdom  with  songs  of 
triumph  and  shouts  of  everlasting  joy,  and  sorrow  and  sighing  shall 
flee  away. 

As  to  myself,  I  have  little  to  say  in  my  own  behalf.  The  Lord 
has  appointed  me  a  sentinel  to  give  the  camp  notice  of  the  ene- 
my's approach  ;  1  am  ashamed  to  say  it,  but  indeed  I  am  such  a 
wretch,  that  I  am  sometimes  half  asleep  upon  my  post.  It  is  of 
the  Lord's  mercy  that  I  have  not  been  surprised  and  overpowered 
before  now*  Such  is  his  condescension,  that  he  comes  to  awaken 
me  himself,  and  only  says.  Arise,  watch  and  pray,  that  you  enter 
not  into  temptation.  I  have  good  reason  to  believe  my  enemy 
has  been  as  near  to  me  as  David  was  to  Saul  when  he  took  away 
his  spear,  and  yet  I  did  not  perceive  him.  Well  it  is  for  us  that 
there  is  one  who  watches  the  watchmen,  a  Shepherd  who  himself 
neither  slumbers  nor  sleeps,  and  yet  knows  how  to  have  compas- 
sion on  those  who  are  prone  to  do  both. 
Believe  me  to  be. 

Your  most  aflfectionate  and  obliged. 


Vol.  IV.  36 


2«  to  ME.  w***».  [Let.  11, 

LETTRR  XL 

To  Mr.  W*»**. 

Jfpra  12,  1771. 
Mr  DfiAft  Sm, 

t  OFT£N  revtew  my  late  London  visit  with  much  satisfac* 
tioD  ;  rejoicing  that  I  found  so  many  of  my  dear  friends  thriving 
in  the  good  ways  of  the  Lord.  Surely  his  service  is  perfect 
freedom  ;  his  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all  his  paths  are 
peace.  He  is  a  sun  and  a  shield,  a  hiding-place,  and  a  resting- 
place,  to  them  that  fear  him.  May  we  still  press  forward;  we  have 
not  yet  attained.  There  are  larger  measures  of  grace,  establish- 
ment, and  consolation  set  forth  in  the  Gospel,  than  all  we  have 
hitherto  received.  The  Lord  has  set  before  us  an  open  door, 
which  no  man  can  shut ;  he  has  given  us  exceeding  great  and 
precious  promises ;  has  bid  us  open  our  mouths  wide,  and  has 
said,  he  will  fill  them.  He  would  have  us  ask  great  things,  and 
when  we  have  enlarged  our  desires  to  the  utmost,  he  is  still 
able  to  do  exceeding  more  than  we  can  ask  or  think.  May  we  be 
as  wise  in  our  generation  as  the  children  of  this  world.  They  are 
not  content  with  little,  nor  even  with  much,  so  long  as  there  is  any 
probability  of  getting  more.  As  to  myself,  I  am  but  a  poor  maa 
in  the  trade  of  grace ;  I  live  from  hand  to  mouth,  and  procure 
just  enough  (as  we  say)  to  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door.  Bat  I 
must  charge  it  to  my  unbelief  and  indolence,  which  have  been  so 
great,  that  it  is  a  mercy  I  am  not  a  bankrupt.  This  would  have 
been  the  case,  but  that  I  have  a  friend  (whom  you  know)  who 
has  kindly  engaged  for  me.  To  tell  you  the  plain  truth,  I  have 
nothing  of  my  own,  but  trade  wholly  upon  his  stock  ;  and  yet, 
{would  you.  think  it  possible,)  though  I  often  confess  to  him  that 
I  am  an  unprofitable  and  unfaithful  steward,  yet  I  have,  upon^roa- 
ny  occasions,  spoke  and  acted  as  if  I  would  have  people  believe 
that  what  be  has  committed  to  me  was  my  own  property.  Ah, 
Sir!  if  you  had  a  servant  like  me,  that  should  uStci  to  show 
away  at  your  expense,  yon  would  hardly  bear  with  him  long. 
Ton  would  be  ready  to  say,  What  is  this  I  hear  f  Give  an 
account  of  your  stewardship,  for  thou  mayest  be  no  longer 
steward.  I  learn  sometimes  from  family  relations  to  form  a  little 
judgment  of  the  Lord's  patience  towards  his  people.  What  a 
family  has  he  to  bear  with !  Those  to  whom  he  stands  in  the  rela- 
tion of  a  husband,  admit  idols  in  their  hearts  against  him;  his 
friends  hold  a  secret  correspondence  with  his  enemies ;  his  child- 
ren repine  against  him,  and  quarrel  one  with  another;  his  ser- 


Ltt.  !«.]•  TO  SIR.  w****.  taZ 

W9MM  serve  themselves.  I  do  not  wonder  tliat  those  who  are  not 
well  acqaaioted  with  the  freedom  and  gecarity  of  the  Gospel  cove** 
nant,  shonid  live  in  daily  fear  of  being  turned  oot  of  doon.  I 
am  sare  I  deserve  U  every  day  of  my  life.  But  he  is  God,  and 
■oc  man  ;  his  ways  are  not  as  ours  ;  and  as  it  has  pleased  him  to 
receive  us  as  children,  he  has  promised  that  we  shall  abide  in  his 
house  for  ever.  It  is  our  mercy  that  we  have  an  atonement  of 
infinite  valoe,  and  an  Advocate  who  is  always  heard,  and  who 
ever  livefh  to  make  intercession  for  us. 

How  I  have  run  from  one  thing  to  another !  But  by  tliis 
means  I  have  got  through  a  good  part  of  my  paper.  Do  you 
ask  after  — .»  ?  Its  present  state  may  be  summed  up  in  two 
sentences  : — ^The  Lord  is  gracious,  and  Satan  is  )>U6y.  The 
Lord  is,  I  hope,  carrying  on  his  work-^reviving,  healing,  eeal- 
ing  and  feeding  his  people.  And  I  am  sure  Satan  is  carrying  on 
his  work :  some  he  is  leading  blindfold  up  and  down  the  town, 
and  miserable  spectacles  they  are  :  he  is  stopping  up  the  ears  of 
others.  He  j^  spreading  nets  in  all  quarters  ;  so  that  believers 
can  hardly  stir  a  step  without  being  ensnared.  He  has  taken  a 
professor  or  two  in  bis  toils  ;  and  now  he  seems  to  laugh  at  them, 
and  to  laugh  at  us.  And  all  this  while  he  is  as  assiduous  io 
fighting  against  the  peace  of  the  upright,  as  if  he  had  nothing- 
else  to  do.  We  are  a  besieged  city,  and  it  is  not  to  be  conceiv- 
ed, much  less  expressed,  what  showers  of  6ery  darts  he  discharges 
against  us  every  day.  *'  The  noise  of  the  archer  is  heard  in  the 
places  of  drawing  water."  Judges,  v.  1 1.  And  I  am  persuaded  no 
soldier  who  served  in  Germany  can  show  so  many  wounds  as 
some  of  us  have  received  in  conflict  with  this  enemy.  However, 
chough  he  thrusts  sore  at  us,  the  Lord  is  our  helper.  We  are 
kept  by  the  power  of  God.  The  banner  of  salvation  still  ilies 
vpon  our  walls  ;  and  I  believe  Satan  gnashes  his  teeth  at  the 
sight.  I  am,  dear  Sir, 

Your  much  obliged  and  affectionate  servant. 


LETTER  XII. 
To  Mr.  W****. 

December  6^  1771. 
Mt  Dsar  Sik, 

'  I  WAS  balked  on  the  Friday  I  dined  with  Mrs.  •***,  to  find 
you  could  not  be  at  home.  Then  I  wished  I  had  staid  with  you 
on  the  Tuesday  evening  ;  so  ready  are  we,  at  least,  so  refidy  am 


\ 


284  TO  mi.  wMHi«.  .    •[Lct^W. 

I,  to  want  to  recall  the  day  that  is  past,  and  correct  die  disposal 
of  Divine  Providence.  At  length  I  retreated  to  my  acknowledg- 
ed principles,  that  the  Lord  knows  where  we  are,  and  when  it  is 
needful  we  should  meet ;  that  the  word  disuppainimerUj  when 
translated  into  plain  English,  means  little  more  or  less  than  the 
grumblings  of  self-will  against  the  will  of  Crod ;  and  that  we 
should  never  meet  a  disappointment  in  the  path  of  duty,  if  we 
conid  heartily  prefer  his  wisdom  to  our  own.  I  considered  that, 
though  to  have  had  your  company  would  have  been  more  pleas- 
ant, yet  an  opportunity  of  trying  iq  bow  my  stubborn  spirit  to  the 
Lord's  disposal  might,  at  that  time,  be  more  profitable  ;  so  i  en- 
deavoured to  make  the  best  of  it.  I  am  desirous  to  learn,  (but  I 
am  a  slow  scholar,  and  make  bungling  work  at  my  lessons,)  to 
apply  the  great  truth  of  the  Gospel  to  the  common  concerns  of 
every  day  and  every  hour ;  not  only  to  believe  that  my  soul  is 
safe  in  the  Redeemer's  hand,  but  that  the  hairs  of  my  head  are 
numbered  ;  not  only  that  those  events  in  life  which  I  call  impor- 
tant are  under  bis  direction,  but  that  those  which  I  account  the 
most  inconsiderable,  are  equally  so  ;  that  I  have  no  more  right  or 
power  to  determine  for  myself  where  or  how  I  would  spend  a 
single  day,  than  I  had  to  choose  the  time  of  my  coming  into  the 
world  or  of  going  out  of  it.  Thus  I  would  believe  we  did  not 
meet  according  to  our  desire,  because  it  was  not  his  pleasure  we 
should.  When  he  sees  it  proper  that  we  should  come  together,  he 
can  easily  lead  yon  to  ■  or  me  to  London  ;  though  neither 
of  us  at  present  have  any  prospect  of  the  means  by  which  our  de- 
terminations may  be  guided.  O  !  would  it  not  be  a  blessed  thing 
simply  to  follow  him,  and  to  set  him  by  faith,  always  before  us  f 
Then  we  might  be  freed  from  anxious  cares,  and,  as  I  said,  out  tif 
the  reach  of  disappointment ;  for  if  his  will  is  ours,  we  may  be 
confident  that  nothing  can  prevent  its  taking  place.  When  I  go 
into  a  post-chaise,  I  give  myself  up  with  the  most  absolute  confi- 
dence, to  the  driver  :  I  think  he  knows  the  way,  and  how  to  man- 
age better  than  1  do  ;  and  thererore  I  seldom  trouble  him  either 
with  questions  or  directions,  but  draw  up  the  glasses  and  sit  at  my 
ease.  I  wish  I  could  trust  the  Lord  so  ;  but  though  I  have  given 
myselfup  to  the  care  of  infinite  wisdom  and  love,  and,  in  my 
judgment,  believe  they  are  engaged  on  my  behalf,  I  am  ready  to 
direct  my  Guide,  and  to  expostulate  with  him  at  every  turn,  and 
secretly  to  wish  that  I  had  the  reigns  in  my  own  hand.  "  So  stu- 
pid and  ignorant  am  I,  even  as  a  beast  before  him."  In  great 
trials  we  necessarily  retreat  to  him,  and  endeavour  to  stay  our 
souls  by  believing  he  does  all  things  well  ;  but  in  small  ones 
^e  are  ready  to  forget  him,  and  therefore  we  are  often  more  put 


Let.  13.]  TO  MK.  wx««)t.  28^ 

oot  by  little  things  that  happen  in  the  coarse  of  every  day,  than 
by  the  sharpest  dispensations  we  meet  with. 
I  ani)  with  sincerity^  my  dear  Sir, 

Your  most  obedient,  obliged,  and  affectionate  servant. 


LETTER  XIII. 
,  To  Mr.  W****. 

June  2,  1772. 
Mt  Dear  Sir, 

It  is  true — I  confess  it.  1  have  been  very  naughty.  I 
ought  not  to  have  been  so  long  in  answering  your  last  kind  letter. 
Now  I  hope  you  have  forgiven  me.  And  therefore  I  at  once 
recover  my  confidence  without  troubling  you  with  such  excuse  s 
as  the  old  man,  ever  desirous  of  justifying  himself,  would  suggest. 
We  were  glad  to  hear  of  your  welfare,  and  of  the  prosperity  with 
which  the  Lord  favours  you  at  home,  and  in  the  two  great 
houses ;  which,  I  hope,  will  continue  to  be  like  trees  planted  by 
the  waters  of  the  sanctuary,  maintaining  the  leaves  of  Gospel  doc- 
trine always  green  and  flourishingy  and  abounding  with  a  con- 
stant succession  of  blossoms,  green  and  ripe  fruit ;  I  mean  be- 
lievers in  the  states  of  babes,  young  men,  and  fathers  in  Christ. 

"  Awake,  O  heavenly  wind,  and  come, 
"  Blow  on  these  gardens  of  perfume ; 
**  Spirit  divine,  descend  and  breathe 
^  A  gf  acious  gale  on  plants  beneath  !'^ 

And  while  you  are  using  your  best  endeavours  in  watching  for  tlie 
good  of  these  vineyards,  may  your  own  flourish.  May  your  soul 
rejoice  in  the  Lord  and  in  the  success  of  his  work,  and  every  or- 
dinance, and  providence  administer  unto  you  an  especial  blessing. 
The  illness  under  which  I  have,  laboured  longer  than  the  man 
mentioned,  (John,  v.  5.)  is  far  from  being  removed.  Yet  I  am 
bound  to  speak  well  of  my  Physician  ;  he  treats  me  with  great 
tenderness  ;  assures  me  that  it  shall  not  be  to  death,  but  to  the 
glory  of  God  ;  and  bids  me  in  due  time  expect  a  perfect  cure.  I 
know  too  much  of  him  (though  I  know  but  little)  to  doubt  either 
his  skill  or  his  promise.  It  is  true,  1  suffer  sad  relapses,  and  have 
been  more  than  once  brought,  in  iappearance,  to  death's  door  since 
I  have  been  under  bis  care ;  but  this,  fault  has  not  been  his,  but 
my  own.  I  am  a  strange,  refractory  patient ;  have  too  often 
neglected  his  prescriptions,  and  broken  the  regimen  h«  appoints 


•86  TO  MB.  w«***.  [Let.  13. 


% 


iii«  to  obsenre.  This  perversenessi  joined  to  the  exceeding  ob- 
stinacy of  my  disorders,  woold  have  caosed  me  to  be  tniued  out 
as  an  incurable  long  ago,  had  I  been  nnder  any  hand  but  his. 
But,  indeed,  there  is  none  like  him.  When  I  have  brought  my* 
.self  low,  be  has  still  helped  me.  Blessed  be  his  name,  I  am  yet 
alive ;  yea,  I  shall  ere  long  be  well ;  but  not  here.  The  air 
which  I  breathe  is  unfavourable  to  my  constitution,  and  nourishes 
my  disease.  He  knows  this,  and  intends,  at  a  proper  season,  to 
remove  me  into  a  better  climate,  where  there  are  no  fogs  nor 
damps,  where  the  inhabitants  shall  no  more  say,  I  am  sick.  #  He 
has  brought  my  judgment  to  acquiesce  with  his  ;  and  sometimes 
I  long  to  hear  him  say.  Arise  and  depart.  But,  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  1  am  much  more  frequently  pleased  with  the  thoogbt  of 
staying  a  little  and  a  little  longer  here,  though  in  my  present  sit- 
uation I  am  kept  alive  merely  by  dint  of  medicine ;  and,*  though 
his  medicines  are  all  salutary,  they  are  not  all  pleasant.  Now 
and  then  he  gives  me  a  pleasant  cordial ;  but  many  things  which 
ther^  is  a  need-be  for  my  taking  frequently,  are  bittel  and  unpal- 
atable. It  is  strange  that,  knowing  this  is  and  must  he  the  case, 
I  am  not  more  desirous  of  my  dismission.  I  hope,  however, 
one  thing  that  makes  me  willing  to  stay  is^  that  I  may  point  him 
out  as  a  Physician  of  value  to  others.  We  sometimes  see  in  the 
newspapers  acknowledgments  of  cures  received.  What  sheets 
and  quires  of  advertisements  would  be  necessary,  if  all  the  Lord's 
people  were  to  publish  their  cases.  Methinks  mine  might  run  in 
this  form  : 

*'  I,  A.  B.  of  the  parish  of  C,  long  laboured  under  a  compli- 
cation of  disorders.  A  fever,  (of  ungoverned  passions,)  a  drop- 
sy, (of  pride,)  a  phrensy,  (of  wild  imaginations,)  a  lethargy,  and 
a  dead  palsy.  In  this  deplorable  situation  I  suffered  many  things 
of  many  physicians,  spent  my  all,  and  grew  worse  and  worse. 
In  this  condition  Jesus,  the  Physician  of  souls,  found  me  when  I 
sought  him  not.  He  undertook  my  recovery  freely,  without 
money  and  without  price,  (these  are  his  terms  with  all  his  pa- 
tients.) My  fever  is  now  abated,  my  senses  restored,  my  facul- 
ties enlivened  ;  in  a  word,  I  am  become  a  new  man.  And  from 
his  ability,  his  promise,  and  the  experience  of  what  he  has  already 
done,  I  bave  die  fullest  assurance  that  he  will  infallibly  and  per* 
fectly  heal  me,  and  that  I  shall  live  for  ever  a  monument  of  his 
power  and  grace.  May  many,  may  all,  who  ere  sick  of  the  same 
diseases,  be  encouraged,  by  this  declaration  of  my  case,  to  seek 
him  likewise.  For  whosoever  comes  unto  him,  be  will  in  no  wise 
cast  out.** 

When  will  you  come  and  see  the  flock  at ?     By  the 

blessing  of  the  good  Shepherd,  we  have  had  a  good  number  of 


Let.  14,]  TO  Miu  w»w«*  287 

Iambs  added  to  the  fold  of  late,  who  arc  in  a  very  promising  way. 
You  would  like  to  hear  their  bleatings.  The  voice  of  joy  and 
thanksgiving  is  heard  in  our  tabernacles,  saying,  The  right  hand 
of  the  Lord  is  exalted  ;  the  right  hand  of  the  Lord  bringeth  migh^ 
tv  things  to  pass.  Pray  for  us,  that  these  gracious  drops  may  be 
the  forerunners  of  a  plentiful  shower.  For  notwithstanding  what 
I  have  said,  wickedness  still  abounds  amongst  us  in  the  town. 
And  many,  having  lone  resisted  the  convictions  of  the  word  and 
Spirit,  are  hardened  and  bold  in  sinning  to  a  great  degree.  So 
ihat  '  '  is  like  the  two  baskets  of  Jeremian^s  figs,  the  good 
are  veiy  good,  and  the  bad  are  exceedingly  bad. 
I  am,  my  dear  Sir, 

.  Your  affectionate  and  obliged  servant. 


LETTER  XIV. 

To  Mr.  W****. 

July  28,  1772. 
Mr  Dear  Sir^ 

It  was  not  in  my  power  to  reach  you  after  I  called  upon  Mrs. 
****.  Indeed,  that  London  is  such  a  noisy,  hurrying  place,  I 
wish  you  would  leave  it,  fill  your  coach  with  those  whom  you  love 
best,  and  come  and  spend  a  few  days  with  us.  Here  we  could 
chat  without  interruption,  and  I  couldshow  you  a  set  of  promising 
young  plants  which  have  sprung  up  since  you  were  here  last ;  if 
you  cannot  come  to  look  at  them,  yet  I  hope  you  will  pray  for 
them,  that  they  may  flourish  like  the  palmptree,  and  bring  forth 
fruit  in  old  age. 

Give  my  love  to  Miss  ♦♦♦*.  I  trust  and  pray  that,  wherever 
she  feeds,  the  Lord  will  be  her  shepherd,  and  will  lead  her  in 
the  green  pastures  of  his  truth,  ana  cause  her  to  rest  by  the 
refreshing  streams  of  his  love.  We  know  he  is  not  confined  to 
names,  places,  or  instrimients.  There  is  but  one  Lord,  one  faith, 
and  therefore  but  one  church,  composed  of  all  who  are  vitally  uni- 
ted to  him,  and  who  receive  from  his  fulness  grace  for  grace.  To 
him  I  commend  her,  and  congratulate  her  upon  the  privilege  that 
it  is  given  her  early  in  life  to  know  his  name,  and  to  feel  the  con- 
straining power  of  his  grace.  In  every  other  respect,  the  Lord 
has  blessed  you  abundantly  ;  and  if  he  vouchsafes  you  this  bles- 
sing also,  to  see  your  children  as  they  grow  up  walking  in  wis-, 
dom's  ways,  1  doubt  not  but  he  will  give  your  hearts  to  love  and 
praise  him  for  all  his  goodness.  May  grace,  mercy,  and  truth,  be 
with  you  all. 


288  TO  MR.  w*«**.  [Let.  14. 

We  finished  our  little  peregrination  in  peace,  and  our  return 
home  was  crowned  with  new  mercies ;  but  we  likewise  find  the 
return  of  old  complaints  and  temptation.  This  evil  heart  of  unbe- 
Kef ;  this  wicked  spirit  of  self ;  this  stupidity  and  deadness  in  the 
things  of  God  ;  this  cleaving  to  a  covenant  of  works ;  this  grovel- 
ling attachment  to  the  ihines  of  time  and  sense  :  for  these  things 
we  groan,  being  burthened.  But  we  have  heard  of  One  who  is 
able  to  save  to  the  uttermost ;  and  we  find  that  his  compassions 
fail  not.  His  arm  is  not  shortened,  nor  his  ear  heavy ;  and  though 
our  many  iniquities  might  justly  keep  good  things  from  us,  yet 
still  he  is  gracious.  In  secret,  I  am  for  the  most  part  dull  and 
^  heardess,  as  usual ;  but  he  is  pleased  to  enable  me  and  permit 
me  to  speak  for  him  in  public.  I  feci  -enough  to  make  me  fre- 
quently utter  David^s  prayer,  ^^  O  lake  not  thy  word  of  truth  ut- 
terlv  out  of  my  mouth.^'  He  might,  he  might  justlv  do  it ;  he 
might  lay  me  aside  by  sickness,  or  what  is  unspeakably  more  aw- 
ful, he  might  take  away  his  gifts  from  me,  and  cause  my  rieht  eye 
to  grow  oark,  and  my  right  arm  to  wither.  Sometimes  lam  al- 
most ready  to  fear  the  sentence  is  coming  forth ;  I  feel  such  a 
total  inability,  the  scripture  a  sealed  book,  and  my  heart  hard  as 
the  nether  millstone.  I  know  not  how  I  shall  make  mention  of 
his  name  again  ;  I  am  ready  to  sink  at  the  prospect ;  but 

Ic  is  he  who  supports  me  through  all ; 
When  I  faint  he  rerives  me  again. 

In  the  midst  of  these  exercises,  I  have  reason  to  hope  he  bles- 
ses the  word  of  his  grace.  I  have  come  to  the  knowledge  of  three 
or  four  more  since  my  return,  who  have  been  seeking  him  for  some 
months  past,  and  appear  to  have  right  views  and  warm  hearts. 
And  I  have  reason  to  hope  that  he  is  at  work  upon  more  than  I 
am  yet  acquainted  with.  A  young  woman  came  to  me  last  night 
in  great  distress  ;  when  I  asked  her  the  cause,  she  said,  ^'  O,  Sir, 
to  think  that  he  died  such  a  death,  and  that  I  should  sin  so  against 
him  V^  Poor  soul,  she  had  no  thought  of  teaching  her  teacher ;  but 
what  she  said,  and  the  simplicity  with  which  she  spoke,  had  almost 
melted  my  heart ;  though  the  stubborn  thing  soon  got  over  it,  and 
gr^vv  hard  again. 

Believe  me  to  be,  sincerely, 

Your  affectionate  and  obliged  servant. 


Let,  15,]  Ta  mi.  w»*^.  2B9 

LETTER  XV. 

ToMr.W**** 

September  14,  1772. 
My  Dear  Sir, 

Yoo  are  hungering  and  thirsting  to  feel  the  power  and  savour 
of  the  truth  in  your  soul,  humbling,  quickening,  strengthening,  com- 
forting you,  filling  you  with  peace  and  joy,  and  enabling  you  to 
abound  in  the  fruits  of  righteousness,  which  are,  by  Jesus  Christ; 
to  the  glory  and  praise  of  God.  Are  these  your  desires  ?  He  that 
has  wrougnt  tbem  in  you  is  God ;  and  he  will  not  disappoint  you. 
He  would  not  say,  Open  your  mouth  wide,  if  he  did  not  design  to 
fill  it.  O  !  he  gives  bountifully  ;  ^ives  like  a  king.  A  Utile 
is  too  much  for  our  deserts  ;  but  much  is  too  .little  for  his  bounty* 
Let  me  tell  you  a  heathen  story  : — It  is  said  that  a  man  once  ask- 
ed Alexander  to  give  him  some  money,  I  think,  to  portion  off  a 
daughter.  The  king  bid  him  go  to  his  treasurer  and  demand  what 
he  pleased.  He  went  and  demanded  an  enoi*mous  sum.  The 
treasurer  was  startled,  said  he  could  n«»t  part  with  so  much  with-* 
out  an  express  order,  and  went  to  the  king,  and  told  him  hf^ 
thought  a  small  part  of  the  money  the  man  had  named  mi^ht  serv^ 
lor  the  occasion,  "  No,"  said  the  king,  "  let  him  have  it  all.  J 
like  that  man,  he  does  me  honour  ;  he  treats  me  like  a  king,  and 
proves  by  what  he  asks,  that  he  believes  me  to  be  both  rich  and 
generous.''  Come,  my  friend,  let  us  go  to  the  throne  of  grace, 
and  put  up  such  petitions  as  may  show  that  we  have  honourable 
views  of  the  riches  and  bounty  of  our  King.  Alas  !  I  prefer  such 
poor  scanty  desires,  as  if  I  thought  he  was  altogether  such  an  one 
as  myself.  Speak  a  word  for  me  when  you  are  near  him  ;  entreat 
him  to  increase  my  love,  faith,  humility,  zeal,  and  knowledge,  a 
thousand  fold.  Ah  !  I  am  poor  and  foolish  ;  1  need  a  great  sup- 
ply ;  I  cannot  dig,  and  yet  am  often  unwilling  to  beg. 

The  other  day  I  met,  in  a  friend's  house,  a  volume  of  Mr.  Whit- 
field's Sermons,  lately  published  by  Gurney.  I  have  read  several 
of  them.  They  are,  indeed,  more  loose  and  inaccurate  than  prin- 
ted sermons  usually  are  ;  but  I  think  them  the  more  valuable  in 
one  respect  on  this  account,  that  they  give  a  lively  idea  of  his 
manner  of  preaching,  which  can  hardly  be  guessed  at  from  the 
sermons  formerly  printed  in  his  name.  But  in  these,  I  cannot 
read  a  page  but  I  seem  to  have  the  man  before  my  eyes.  His 
voice,  his  gesture,  every  particular,  returns  to  my  memory,  as  if  I 
had  heard  him  but  vesterday.  In  this  volume,  1  think  it  may  em» 
phatically  be  said,  He  being  dead,  yet  speaketh.  I  should  sup- 
pose his  friends  will  be  glad  that  this  striking  picture  of  biia  is' 

Vol.  IV.  37 


290  TO  MR.  w*»»».  [Let.  16, 

preserved.    Though  doubtless   the    world,   who   despised  his 
preachine  while  he  lived,  will  think  meanly  enough  of  sermons 
published  just  as  he  preached  them. 
I  am,  sincerely,  dear  Sir, 

Your  much  obliged  and  affectionate  servant. 


LETTER  XVI. 
ToMr.  W****. 

November  14, 1772. 
l(Ir  Dear  Sir, 

The  heart  is  very  deceitful ;  I  know  but  little  of  my  own, 
and  cannot  see  at  all  into  other  people^s.  This  is  a  day  in  which 
the  many  falls  of  professors  give  us  warning  not  to  judge  too  has- 
tily by  appearances  ;  to  be  cautious  whom  we  trust,  and  espe- 
cially wnom  we  recommend.  However,  I  have  great  reason  to 
believe  that  you  will  never  have  reason  to  be  angry  with  me  for 

having  recommended to  you.     I  have  had  seven  or 

eight  years^  trial  of  him,  and  judge  him  to  be  a  simple-hearted, 
honest  man.  I  account  him  a  good  sample  of  our  flock.  They  are 
mostly  like  him,  not  abounding  in  that  archness  which  the  world 
calls  wisdom  ;  they  are  more  spiritual  than  clever,  have  more 
grace  than  politeness,  and  are  more  desirous  (if  they  could)  to  live 
above  the  world  than  to  make  a  noise  and  cut  a  figure  in  it.  They 
know  the  Lord  and  the  truth  ;  but  very  few  of  them  know  much 
of  any  thing  else.  Such  are  the  people  whom,  for  the  most  part, 
the  Lord  chooses  and  sets  apart  for  himself ;  simple,  poor,  afflic- 
ted, and  unnoticed  in  the  present  world,  but  rich  in  faith,  and 
heirs  of  the  kingdom  of  glory. 

We  jog  on  here  much  in  our  usual  way.  Only  as  our  numbers 
are  increased,  the  enemy  has  a  larger  field  for  action  amongst  us, 
and  we  have  frequent  proofs  that  he  is  not  asleep.  However,  up- 
on the  whole,  I  trust  the  Lord  is  with  us,  and  preserves  us  from 
his  devices.  Of  late  we  have  had  no  new  awakenings  that  1  know 
of;  I  beg  your  prayers  for  us,  that  the  Spirit  from  on  high  may  be 
again  poured  out  upon  us,  to  make  the  wilderness  a  fruitful  field. 
Indeed,  notwithstanding  the  Lord  has  a  few  people  here,  and  the 
preaching  of  the  Gospel  abounds  so  much  amongst  us,  I  think 
wickedness  prevails  and  increases  at ,  to  a  dreadful  de- 

ijree.  Our  streets  are  filled  with  the  sons  of  Belial,  who  neither 
ear  God  nor  regard  man.  I  wish  my  heart  was  more  affected 
with  what  my  eyes  see  and  my  ears  hear  every  day.  I  am  often 
ready  to  fear  lest  the  Lord  should  testify  his  displeasure  in  some 


Let.  !?•]  TO  MR.  w»*»,  291 

awful  way  ;  but  he  is  full  of  mercy,  he  has  a  remnant  amongst  us, 
therefore  1  am  willing  to  hope  he  will  yet  spare. 

And  surely  if  he  were  strict  to  mark  w^hat  is  amiss,  I  myself 
might  tremble*  O I  were  he  to  plead  with  me,  I  could  not  answer 
him  one  of  a  thousand*  Alas  !  my  dear  friend,  you  know  not 
what  a  poor,  unprofitable,  unfaithful  creature  I  am*  So  much 
forgiven,  so  little  love*  So  many  mercies,  so  few  returns*  Such 
•  great  privileges,  and  a  life  so  sadly  below  them*  Instead  of  re- 
joicing in  G(^,  f  go  mourning  for  the  most  part.  Not  because  I 
am  shaken  with  doubts  and  fears  ;  for  I  believe  the  Lord  Jesus, 
who  found  me  when  I  sought  him  not,  is  both  able  and  willing  to 
save  to  the  uttermost ;  but  because  indwelling  sin  presses  me 
close  ;  because  when  I  would  do  good,  evil  is  present  with  me  ; 
because  I  can  attempt  nothing  but  it  is  debased,  polluted,  and 
Spoiled  by  my  depraved  nature  ;  because  my  sins  of  omission  are 
innumerable*  In  a  word,  there  is  so  much  darkness  in  my  under* 
standing,  perverseness  in  my  will,  disorder  in  my  affections,  folly 
and  madness  in  my  imagination*  Alas  !  when  shall  it  be  other- 
wise* I  seem  to  have  a  desire  of  walking  with  God,  and  rejoicing 
in  him  all  the  day  long  ;  but  I  cannot  attain  thereto.  Surely  it  is 
far  better  to  depart  and  to  be  with  Jesus  Christ,  than  to  live  here 
up  to  the  ears  in  sin  and  temptation  ;  and  yet  I  seem  very  well 
contented  with  the  possibility  of  continuing  here  a  good  while. 
In  short,  I  am  a  riddle  to  myself ;  a  heap  of  inconsistence.  But 
it  is  said,  "  We  have  an  Advocate  with  the  Father."  Here  hope 
revives  ;  though  wretched  in  myself,  I  am  complete  in  him. 
He  is  made  of  God,  wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctification,  and  re- 
deniption*  On  this  Rock  I  build.  1  trust  it  shall  be  well  with 
me  at  last,  and  that  I  shall  by  and  by  praise,  anc}  love,  and  serve 
him  without  these  abatements. 

I  am  your  much  obliged  servant. 


LETTER  XVH. 

ToMr.W««^* 

Jlpril  20,  1773. 
Ht  Dear  Sir, 

It  is  time  to  thank  you  for  your  kind  letter,  but  I  am  so  mnch 
taken  up  that  I  can  haraly  pay  my  debts  of  correspondence  in 
due  season.  However,  I  do  not  love  to  let  yours  be  long  mian- 
swered,  because  till  I  have  quitted  scores,  I  hare  but  little  hopes 
of  hearing  from  you  again.  We  are  glad  to  hear  that  vou  and 
Mrs.  •»*•  were  well,  and  to  find  t>y  your  writing,  that  the  Lord 


292  TO  MR.  w*^*.  [Let.  17, 

makes  your  feet  like  hinds  feet  in  his  good  ways,  and  leads  you  in 
the  paths  of  pleasantness  and  peace.  I  doubt  not  but,  you  like- 
wise have  your  share  of  trials  :  but  when  the  love  of  God  is  sbed 
abroad  in  the  heart  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  it  sweetens  what  bitter 
things  the  Lord  puts  into  our  cup,  and  enables  us  to  say.  None  of 
these  things  move  us.  Yes,  the  life  of  faith  is  a  happy  life,  and, 
if  attended  with  conflicts,  there  is  an  assurance  of  victory  ;  and  if 
we  sometimes  get  a  wound,  there  is  healing  balm  near  at  hand  ; 
if  we  seem  to  fall,  we  are  raised  again;  and  if  tribulations  abound, 
consolations  shall  abound  likewise.  Is  it  not  happiness  to  have 
an  infallible  Guide,  an  invincible  Goard^.an  Almighty  Friend? — 
to  be  able  to  say  of  the  Maker  of  heaven  and  earth,  He  is  mf 
beloved,  my  Shepherd,  my  Saviour,  and  my  Husband  ;  and  to 
say  to  him — 

Let  waves  and  thunder  mix  and  roar, 
Be  thou  my  God,  I  ask  no  more : 
While  thou  art  Sovereign,  I'm  secure, 
I  shall  be  rich  till  thou  art  puor. 

0  the  peace  which  flows  from  believing  that  all  events  in  which 
we  are  concerned  are  under  his  immediate  disposal ;  that  the 
hairs  of  our  heads  are  all  numbered  ;  that  he  delights  in  our  pros- 
perity ;  that  there  is  a  need-be^  if  we  are  in  heaviness,  and  that 
all  things  shall  surely  work  for  our  good  !  How  happy  to  have 
such  views  of  his  sovereignty,  wisdom,  love,  and  faithfulness,  as 
will  enable  us  to  meet  every  dispensation  with  submission,  and  to 
look  through  the  changes  of  the  present  life,  to  that  nncbangea- 
ble  inheritance  to  which  the  Lord  is  leading  us,  when  all  evil  shall 
cease,  and  wher^  joy  shall  be  perfect  and  eternal !  I  trust  be  who 
loves  you  strengthens  you  in  this  life  of  faith,  and  fills  you  with  a 
peace  that  passes  all  junderstanding. 

Perhaps  you  have  heard  that  I  have  not  been  well.  My  illness 
was  not  so  great  as  to  confine  me  from  my  work,  and  the  Lord 
was  pleased  to  give  me  a  peaceful  frame  of  mind  under  his  hand, 
so  that  I  did  not  suffer  much.  For  about  a  week  I  was  set  to  learn 
the  value  of  hearing  by  the  want  of  it ;  for  I  was  so  deaf  that  I 
could  join  in  no  conversation  ;  but  now,  thanks  to  the  great  Phy- 
sician, my  complaints  are  all  removed. 

A  minister  of  Jesus  Christ  is  as  high  a  style  (according  to  the 
spiritual  heraldry  in  the  word  of  God)  as  morul  can  attain.  His  de- 
partment is  much  more  important  than  that  of  a  first  Lord  of  the 
Treasury,  or  Admiralty,  a  Chancellor,  or  a  mere  Archbishop.  I 
can  wish  Mr.  ••*•  no  higher  preferment  than  to  be  an  ambassa- 
dor of  the  King  of  kings.  It  is,  however,  a  very  serious  business ; 
and  he  is  young  enough  to  admit  of  time  for  due  deliberation. 


^ 


Let.  18.]  *o  MB.  w«HHi.  29S 

Many  in  the  time,  of  their  first  love,  while  a  sense  of  divine  things 
and  compassion  for  souls  have  been  very  warm  upon  their  minds, 
have  heen  desirous  to  preach  the  Gospel ;  but  this  desire  alone 
does  not  amount  to  a  divbe  call.  In  those  whom  the  Lord 
has  pot  designed  for  the  service,  it  gradually  weakens  and  dieT 
away ;  or,  if  they  tqo  hastily  push  themselves  forward  into  the 
work,  they  have  often  cause  to  repent  it ;  for  the  ministry  must 
be  a  wearisome  and  discouraging  service,  unless  we  are  clear  that 
God  has  called  and  appointed  us  to  it.  I  hope  it  wilt  appear  that 
He  who  called  Samuel  of  old  is  calling  him  ;  then  his  desire  will 
abide  and  increase  ;  and,  though  some  difSculties  may  occasion^ 
ally  intervene,  you  will,  upon  the  whole,  see  the  steps  of  Divine 

%   Providence  favouring  and  leading  forward  from  the  blossom  to 

•'tbefrait. 

I  am  your  much  obliged  and  afiectionate  servant. 


LETTER  XVm. 
To  Mr.  W*"». 

August  13,  1773. 
My  Dear  Sir, 

We  are  always  glad  to  hear  from  voo,  because  your  paper  is 
perfumed  with  the  name  of  Jesus.  You  speak  well  of  him,  and 
yon  have  reason,  for  he  has  been  a  good  friend  to  you.  I  like- 
wise am  enabled  to  say  something  of  him  :  and  1  trust  the  chief 
reason  why  1  would  wish  my  life  to  be  prolonged,  is  that  I  may 
employ  more  of  my  breath  in  his  praise.  But,  alas  !  while  I  en- 
deavour to  persuade  others  that  he  is  the  chief  among  ten  thou- 
sand, and  alAgether  lovely,!  seem  to  be  but  half  persuaded  of  it 
myself;  I  feel  my  heart  so  cold  and  unbelieving.  But  1  hope  I 
can  say  this  is  not  I,  but^isin  that  dwelleth  in  me.  Did  you  ever 
see  my  picture  ?  I  have  it  drawn  by  a  masterly  hand.  .  And 
though  another  person,  and  one  whom  I  am  far  from  resembling, 
sat  for  it,  it  is  as  like  me  as  one  new  guinea  is  like  another.  The 
original  was  drawn  at  Corinth,  and  sent  to  some  persons  of  dis' 
tinction  at  Rome.  Many  copies  have  been  taken  and  though,  per- 
haps, it  is  not  to  be  seen  in  any  of  the  London  print-shops,  it  has 
a  place  in  most  public  and  private  libraries,  and  I  would  hope  in 
most  families.  I  had  seen  it  a  great  many  times  before  I  could 
discover  one  of  my  own  features  in  it ;  but  then  my  eyes  were 
very  bad.  What  is  remarkable,  it  was  drawn  long  before  I  was 
bom,  but  having  been  favoured  with  some  excellent  eye-salve,  I 


-• 


294  TO  MR.  w****.  [Let.  I8> 

quickly  knew  it  to  be  ray  own.  I  am  drawn  in  an  attitode  which 
would  be  strange  and  singular,  if  it  was  not  so  common  with  me, 
looking  two  different  and  opposite  ways  at  once,  so  that  you  would 
be  puzzled  to  tell  whether  my  eyes  are  fixed  upon  heaven  or  up- 
on the  earth  ;  I  am  aiming  at  things  inconsistent  with  each  other 
at  the  same  instant,  so  that  I  can  accomplish  neither.  According 
to  the  different  light  in  which  you  view  the  picture,  I  appear  to 
rejoice  and  to  mourn,  to  choose  and  refuse,  to  be  a  conqueror  or 
a  captive.  In  a  word,  I  am  a  double  person ;  a  riddle ;  it  is  na 
wonder  if  you  know  not  what  to  make  of  me,  for  I  cannot  tell 
what  to  to  make  of  myself.  I  would  and  I  would  not ;  I  do  and 
I  do  not ;  I  can  and  I  cannot.  I  find  the  hardest  things  easy,  and 
the  easiest  things  impossible  ;  but  while  I  am  in  this  perplexity,.  * 
you  will  observe  in  the  same  piece  a  hand  stretched  forth  for  my 
relief,  and  may  see  a  label  proceeding  out  of  my  mouth  with  thesp 
words — <<  I  thank  God,  through  Jesus  Christ  my  Lord/'  The 
more  1  study  this  picture,  the  more  I  discover  some  new  and 
striking  resemblance,  which  convinces  me  that  the  painter  knew 
me  better  than  I  knew  myself. 

Give  my  love  to  Mr.  •**•.  He  has  desired  a  good  work  ; 
may  the  Lord  give  him  the  desire  of  his  heart.  May  he  give 
him  the  wisdom  of  Daniel,  the  meekness  of  Moses,  the  courage 
of  Joshua,  the  zeal  of  Paul,  and  that  self-abasement  and  humility 
which  Job  and  Isaiah  felt  when  they  not  only  had  heard  of  him 
by  the  hearing  of  the  ear,  but  saw  his  glory,  and  abhorred  them- 
selves in  dust  and  ashes.  May  he  be  taught  of  God,  (none  teach- 
eth  like  him,)  and  come  forth  an  able  ministers  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament, well  instructed  rightly  to  divide  and  faithfully  to  distri- 
bute the  word  of  truth.  In  the  school  of  Christ,  (especially 
if  the  Lord  designs  him  to  be  a  teacher  of  others,)  he  will  be  put 
to  learn  some  lessons  not  very  pleasant  to  flesh  and  blood  r  he 
fliust  learn  to  run,  to  fight,  to  wrestle,  and  many  otUVr  exercises, 
some  of  which  will  try  his  strength,  and  others  his  patience.  You 
know  the  common  expression  of  a  jack  of  all  trades.  I  am  sure  a 
minister  had  need  be  such  an  one ;  a  soldier,  a  watchman,  a 
shepherd,  a  husbandman,  a  builder,  a  planter,  a  physician,  and  a 
Qurse.  But  let  him  not  be  discouraged ;  he  has  a  wonderful  and 
a  gracious  Master,  who  can  not  only  give  instruction,  but  power ; 
and  engages  that  his  grace  shall  be  sufficient  at  all  times,  and  in 
all  circumstances,  for  those  who  simply  give  themselves  up  to  bis 
teaching  and  service.  I  am  sincerely  yours. 


Let.  19.]  TO  MB.  W—.  3&6 

LETTER  XIX. 

To  Mr.  W»***. 

August  29,  1774. 
Mt  Dear  sir, 

I  HAFE  been  often  with  yon  in  spirit  in  yoar  new  habitation. 
In  my  idea  of  it,  it  is  a  grand  place  ;  a  temple  where  the  Lord  is 
worshipped ;  a  castle  guarded  by  Almighty  power.  If  1  mistake 
not,  it  has  several  privileges  beyond  most  of  the  houses  in  your 
neighbourhood.  Does  not  the  sun  often  shine  into  it  in  the  night 
season  ?  Have  you  not  some  rooms  so  far  exceeding  the  galle- 
ry of  St.  Paul's  that  if  you  speak  but  in  a  whisper,  your  voice  is 
heard  beyond  the  clouds  ?  Have  you  not  a  very  fine  prospect 
from  it,  when  the  air  is  clear  ?  According  to  my  notion  of 
the  situation,  when  you  look  one  way,  you  have  a  long  vista 
which  would  take  one  a  good  number  of  years  to  travel  over,  and 
a  great  number  of  curious  Ebenezers  erected  (instead  of  mile- 
stones) all  along  the  road.  If  yon  look  the  other  way,  there  is 
always  a  kind  of  mist,  which  prevents  objects  which  are  near  at 
band  from  being  clearly  seen  ;  but,  what  is  very  extraordinary,  I 
am  told  you  can  see  through  that  mist,  to  a  land  that  lies  a  great 
way  off,  and  that  the  more  you  look,  the  better  you  can  see.  If 
every  house  around  you  had  the  like  advantages,  it  would  be 
certainly  the  finest  village  in  the  kingdom — a  little  heaven  upon 
earth.  All  houses,  from  the  king's  to  the  labourer's,  however 
they  differ  in  other  circumstances,  agree  in  this,  that  they  must 
have  windows  whereby  they  may  receive  the  light.  A  palace 
without  a  window  would  be  but  little  better  than  a  dungeon  ;  and 
a  man  would  almost  think  himself  buried  alive  in  it.  Many  splen- 
did houses  are  dungeons  with  respect  to  spiritual  light.  A  be- 
liever could  not  bear  the  thoughts  of  living  in  any  situation,  unless 
^he  enjoyed  the  light  of  the  sun  of  righteousness  ;  and  with  this, 
any  situation  is  tolerable.  You  know  the  value  of  this  light ;  and 
you  are  favoured  with  it.  Therefore  I  doubt  not  your  house  is  a 
good  one.  May  you  enjoy  it  more  and  more,  and*  now  yon  are 
withdrawn  from  the  noise  of  the  town,  and,  (as  I  suppose,)  in  some 
measure,  from  the  hurry  of  business,  may  your  leisure  be  sanctified, 
and  a  sense  of  the  Lord's  presepce  brighten  every  hour  of  your  fa^- 
ture  life  ;  and  may  you  dwell,  as  Jacob  lodged  for  one  night,  at  the 
gate  of  heaven,  till  the  appointed  moment  when  the  gate  shall 
open  and  let  you  in,  to  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord.  In  the  mean 
time  you  are  happy  that  the  Lord  has  favoured  yon  with  many  op« 
portunities  and  advantages  of  promoting  his  glory,  and  the  good 


2D6  TO  lOfts.  w**^.  [Let.  30* 

of  his  people,  aod  given  you  a  heart  to  improve  them.  I  would 
tell  70U  how  it  is  with  ine  if  I  could  ;  at  the  best,  it  would  be  an 
inconsistent  account.  I  am  what  I  would  not,  and  wbuld  what  I 
cannot.  1  rejoice  and  mourn ;  I  •  stand  fast,  and  am  thrown 
down  in  the  same  moment.  I  am  both  rich  and  poor ;  I  can 
do  nothing,  yet  I  can  do  all  things.  I  live  by  miracle.  I  am  op- 
posed beyond  my  strength,  yet  I  am  not  overpowered.  I  gain 
when  I  lose,  and  I  am  oAen  a  loser  by  my  gains.  In  a  word,  I 
am  a  sinner,  a  vile  one ;  but  a  sinner  believing  in  the  name  of  Je- 
sus. 1  am  a  silly  sheep,  but  I  have  a  gracious,  watchful  Shep- 
herd. I  am  a  dull  scholar,  but  I  have  a  Master  who  can  make 
the  dullest  learn.  He  still  bears  with  me,  he  still  employs  me,  he 
still  enables  me,  be  still  owns  me.  O  for  a  coal  of  heavenly  fire 
to  warm  my  heart,  that  I  might  praise  him  as  I  ought !  As  a  peo- 
ple, we  have  much  cause  of  complaint  in  ourselves,  and  much 
cause  of  thankfulfiess  to  him.  In  the  main,  I  hope  we  are  alive, 
though  not  as  we  could  wish  ;  our  numbers  rather  increase  from 
year  to  year,  and  some  flourish.  In  the  ordinances,  we  are  fa- 
voured in  a  measure  with  his  presence.  But,  O  for  a  day  of  his 
power  ;  that  his  work  may  run  broader  and  deeper,  and  the  fire 
of  grace  spread  from  heart  to  heart,  till  the  whole  town  be  in  a 
flame  !  To  this  1  hope  you  will  give  a  hearty  Amen,  and  often 
remember  us  in  your  prayers.  I  am  sincerely  yours. 


LETTER  XX. 
To  Mr.  W***». 

May  25,  1775. 
Mt  Dear  Sir, 

I  WAS  thinking  of  writing  to  you  before  I  received  yours, 
and  I  have  been  thinking  of  it  oflen  since.  Yesterday  I  had  the^ 
agreeable  information  that  Mrs.  ****  was  safely  delivered  of  a. 
daughter.  This  qnickned  my  resolve,  and  determined  me  to  con-' 
gratulate  you  and  Mrs.  *«*♦,  and  your  son  and  daughter,  upon 
the  happy  event  the  very  next  post.  I  trust  that  you,  and  all 
nearly  concerned  in  this  mercy,  rejoice  in  it,  not  only  as  an  ac- 
cession to  your  family,  but  especially  as  you  see  the  good  band  of 
a  covenant  God  appearing  for  you  and  yours  in  answer  to  prayer. 
This  makes  temporal  mercies,  mercies  indeed,  when  we  can  re- 
ceive them  as  the  firuits  and  pledges  of  special  love  ;  when  tfaey 
are  sanctified  by  the  promise  and  prayer,  and  when  we  can  read^ 
in  them  the  name  and  gift  of  Him  who  died  for  us.    Pray  give 


Lee.  30.]  TO  ifB.  WiHHH>»  997 

my  love  to  the  pttrents,  and  let  tbem  know  that  my  heart  is  with 
them.  May  the  Lord  make  them  very  happy  in  themselves,  in  each 
other,  and  in  their  family  ;  and  may  they  think  they  hear  him  say- 
ingy  upon  this  occasion,  as  Pharaoh's  daughter  did  to  the  mother  of 
Moses,  "  Take  this  child  and  bring  it  up  for  me,  and  I  will  pay 
you  your  wages."    The  Lord's  wages  is  good  pay  indeed.     Who 
can  express  the  honour  and  the  comfort  of  bringing  up  a  child 
for  JesMS  f  The  Lord  has  given  you  this  honour ;  and  I  am  sure 
you  prefer  it  to  all  worldly  considerations.     May  he  give  you  the 
desire  of  your  heart  for  each  and  every  one  of  your  children. 
Mrs.  ****  and  T  are  now  in  the  line  of  parents.     For  though  s  he 
never  felt  a  mother's  pains,  and  there  doubtless  are  some  feelings 
pf  a  father  to  which  I  am  a  stranger ;   the  Lord  has  given  us  ^ 
child  whom  we  love  as  our  own,  and  look  upon  as  our  own.    .We 
think  it  an  advantage,  rather  than  otherwise^  that  she  was  bom 
j(if  I  may  so  say)  to  us,  above  five  years  old,  which  saved  us  all 
the  trouble  and  expense  of  pap  and  cradle ;  it  is  a  great  mer- 
cy  to  us  that  he  has  given  her  an  amiable  and  manageable  dispo^ 
$itiop,  so  that  she  is  quite  a  companion ;  we  love  to  please  her, 
and  she  studies  to  please  us ;  and  she  is,  in  general,  ruled  with  a 
word.     I  trust  she  is  sent  hither  to  be  numbered  in  due  time 
amongst  his  favoured  people,  and  to  know  the  Saviour's  grace  in 
ber  youth.     Help  me,  dear  sir,  with  your  prayers  vu  her  behalf. 
You  ask  if  my  soul  be  mofe  alive  to  Jesus  than  ever  }  I  can  say 
.he  is  precious  to  my  soul,  and  that  I  love  his  ways  and  his  service. 
jHe  is  my  hope,  my  end,  my  portion  ;  and  I  esteem  his  favour  bet- 
ter than  life.     But  lively  feelings  are  seldom  my  lot.     Blessed  be 
his  name.  He  keep^  and  supports  me.    He  keeps  the  flock  commit- 
.ted  to  my  care,  so  that  we  are,  in  the  main,  preserved  from  offen- 
ces and  from  strife.     Now  and  then  he  brings  a  stray  lamb  into 
tb«  fold,  gnd  often  he  is  seen  in  the  fold  himself.     Then  the  sheep 
are  happy,  for  they  know  his  voice,  and  admir/e  his  love.     Aqd 
we  know  ne  is  present  when  we  cannot  see  him,  or  else  the  wolf 
would  quickly  break  in  and  scatter  us.     Here  is  our  security—- 
that  his  eye  and  bis  heart  are  upon  us  continually.  Mr.  *♦•♦  (for 
you  ask  after  him  likewise)  is  well,  and  I  hope,  goes  on  well.     I 
do  not  think  he  is  lukewarm ;  nor  has  his  preaching  been  in  vain. 
He  is  a  young  man^  and  must  learn  some  thipgs,  as  others  have 
done  before  him,  in  the  school  of  experience ;   but  I  trust  he  is 
sound  and  honest,  and  that  none  who  were  concerned  in  helping 
him  through  his  difficulties,  and  bringing  him  into  the  ministry, 
will^have  reason  to  repent  it. 

I  am  sincerely  youfs.. 

Vol..  IV.  .^8 


29S  TO  MB.  WW-.  [Let.  21^ 

LETTER  XXf. 

ToMr.  W****. 

May  3,  1776. 
My  Dear  Sir, 

Will  you  accept  a  short  letter  as  an  apology  for  a  long  si^ 
leiice  ?  I  have  been  working  my  way  through  a  heap  of  unan* 
swered  letters,  (I  should  have  said  half  through  :)  had  there  been 
one  from  you  in  the  number,  it  would  have  been  dispatched  among 
the  first ;  but  as  there  was  not,  I  have  deferred  a  Tittle  and  a  Tittle 
longer,  till  I  am  constrained  to  say.  Forgive  me.  I  hope,  and 
trust,  you  find  the  Lord's  presence  with  you  in  your  new  habita- 
tion ;  otherwise  you  would  think  it  a  dungeon.  There  is  the 
^ame  difference  amongst  people  now,  as  there  was  between  the. 
Egyptians  and  Israel  of  old.  Multitudes  are  buried  alive  under  a 
cloud  of  thick  darkness,  but  all  the  Lord's  people  have  Kght  in 
their  dwellings.  Ah  I  how  many  great  and  fair  booses  are  there 
without  the  heavenly  inhabitant.  It  might  be  written  upon  their 
doors,  God  is  not  here  ;  and  when  you  go  in,  you  may  be  sure  of 
it,  for  there  is  neither  peace  nor  truth  within  the  walls.  This 
thought  has  often  struck  me  when  I  have  been  to  see  some  fine 
seats  as  they  are  called.  When  the  Lord  is  not  known  and  ac- 
knowledged, the  rooms  are  but  cells,  in  which  the  poor  erkninals 
have  license  to  eat  and  sleep  a  little  while,  till  the  sentence  under 
which  they  lie  condemned  shall  be  executed  upon  them.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  houses  of  believers,  though  most  of  them  called 
cottages,  are  truly  palaces  ;  for  it  is  the  presence  of  the  king  thai 
makes  the  court.  There  the  Lord  reigns  upon  a  throne  of  grace« 
and  there  a  royal  guard  of  angels  take  their  stand  to  watch  over 
and  minister  to  the  heirs  of  salvation.  After  all,  the  best  houses 
upon  earth  are  but  inns,  where  we  are  accommodated  a  little  time^ 
while  we  are  doing  our  Master's  business.  It  is  hardly  doing  yon 
justice  to  say,  you  live  where  you  have  a  house.  Your  dwelling, 
your  home,  is  in  heaven,  here  you  are  but  a  sojourner ;  but  to  ex- 
press it  in  a  more  honourable  manner,  you  are  an  ambassador,  en- 
ti^sted  with  aflairs  of  great  importance,  to  manage  for  the  King, 
your  Master.  Every  believer,  while  upon  earth,  in  his  several 
callings,  is  an  ambassador  for  Christ,  though  not  called  to  the 
ministry.  He  has  something  of  his  master's  character  and  inte- 
rests to  maintain.  He  derives  his  supplies,  his  supports,  his  in« 
structions  from  above ;  and  his  great  charge  and  care  is,  to  be 
iaithful  to  bis  commission,  and  every  other  care  he  may  confident- 
ly cast  upon  the  Lord,  to  whom  he  belongs*    In  this  sense  we  are 


Let*  21.]  TO  Hla.  w*-^.  299 

to  take  the  state  opon  oarselves,  to  remeniber  our  cfignity,  and 
not  to  stoop  to  a  conformity  to  the  poor  world  among  whom  we 
live  *y  we  are  neither  to  imitate  their  customs,  nor  regard  their 
maxims,  nor  speak  their  language,  nor  desire  their  honours  or 
their  favours,  nor  fear  their  frowns ;  for  the  Lord,  whom  we  serve, 
has  engaged  to  maintain  and  protect  us,  and  has  given  us  his  in- 
structions, to  which  it  is  both  our  duty  and  our  honour  to  con< 
form.     And  though  the  world  that  know  him  not  cannot  be  ex- 
pected to  think  very  favourably  of  us,  yet  they  can  do  us  no  real 
harm,  if  they  do  not  prevail  upon  our  unbelief,  and  make  us 
shrink  from  ius  service.     And  if  through  grace  we  are  preserv- 
ed, so  as  not  to  be  ashamed  of  him  now,  hereafter  he  will  not 
be  ashamed  of  us.     If  they  account  us  as  gazing-stocks  and 
laughing-stocks  at   present,  for    our    singularity ;    if  they  re- 
proach, revile,  and  despise  us,  we  may  pity  them  ;    for  a  day 
IS  coming  when  they  shall  be  ashamed,   and   when   we  shall 
stand  forth  with  boldness,  and  shine  like  the  sun  in  our  Lord's 
kingdom.     Then,  at  least,  if  not  before,  the  difference  between 
them  that  fear  the  Lord  and  them  that  fear  him  not,  will  be  man- 
ifest.  ^  How  different  will  be  their  language  concerning  him  !  Isa. 
XXV.  9;  Rev.  vi.  16,  17.     And  how  diflereut  will  his  language 
be  to  them  !  Mattb.  xxv.  34 — 41.     O,  what  manner  of  love,  that 
we  who  were  like  others  by  nature,  should  be  thus  distinguished 
by  grace  !    We  knew  him  not,  and  therefore  we  could  not  love 
bim ;  we  were  alienated  from  him  ;  sin,  self,  and  Satan  ruled  in 
our  hearts  ;   our  eyes  were  blinded,  and  we  were  posting  along 
in  the  road  that  leads  to  death,  without  suspecting  danger.     But 
he  would  not  let  us  perish.     Though  when  he  knocked  at  the 
door  of  our  hearts,  we  repeatedly  refused  bim  entrance,  be  would 
not  take  a  denial,  but  exerted  a  gracious  force  ;  made  us  willing 
in  the  day  of  his  power,  and  saved  us  in  defiance  of  ourselves. 
And  from  the  happy  hour  when  he  enabled  us  to  surrender  our- 
selves to  him,  how  tenderly  has  he  pitied  us,  how  seasonably  has 
be  relieved  us,  how  powerfully  upheld  us!  how  many  Ebenezers 
have  we  been  called  upon  to  rear  to  his  praise  !  And  he  has  said 
}«e  will  never  leave  us  nor  forsake  us.     And,  O  what  a  prospect 
lies  before  us !   When  by  his  counsel  he  has  guided  us  through 
life,  he  will  receive  us  to  his  kingdom,  give  us  a  crown  of  glory, 
and  place  us  near  himself,  to  see  him  as  he  is,  and  to  be  satisfied 
with  his  love  for  ever.     How  many  years  did  we  live  before  we 
had  the  least  idea  of  what  we  were  born  to  know  and  enjoy  !  Ma- 
ny things  look  dark  around  us,  and  before  us,  but  the  spreading 
of  the  Gospel  is,  I  trust,  a  token  for  good.     O,  that  we  might  see 
the  work  running,  not  only  broader  as  to  numbers,  but  deeper  as 
t»  the  life,  power,  and  experience,  in  the  hearts,  tempers,  and  con- 


300  TO  ML.  w«HMH>.  [Let.  2f  • 

venation  of  those  who  profess  the  troth.  The  Lord  has  removed 
many  of  his  dear  people  from  ■  ■  ,  to  doorish  in  a  better 

world.  Not  only  many  of  the  old  cedars,  but  several  of  the 
choicest  young  plants  are  taken  away.  Should  I  be  sorry  that 
the  days  of  their  mourning  are  ended,  and  that  they  are  ont  of  the 
reach  of  snares  and  storms  f  Nay,  I  should  rather  rejoice ;  and  I 
do.  Yet  I  feel  bereaved.  I  miss  them  ;  they  used  to  pray  for  me» 
comfort  me,  and  often  teach  and  shame  me  by  their  example.  Pray 
that  the  Lord  may  raise  us  up  more.  1  trust  he  has  not  wholly 
withdrawn  from  us.  We  walk  in  peace,  and  have  some  seasons  of 
refreshment;  now  and  then  we  hear  of  a  new  inquirer.  I  would 
be  thankful  when,  as  an  angler,  I  catch  a  single  fish.  But  O,  that 
the  Lord  would  put  his  great  net  in  my  hand,  and  fill  it  with  a 
shoal! 

I  am,  dearest  Sir, 

Your  afiectionate  and  obliged  servant.. 


ELEYEN  LETTERS 

to 


LETTER  I. 

Mr  t^KAtt  FfttEKD, 

I  AH  very  wilKng  to  meet  yoo  with  a  letter  at  York,  though 
I  have  no  particular  advice  to  offer.  It  seems  probable,  as  you 
gay,  that  your  expected  interview  with  the  G****  will  afford  you 
some  further  light  into  your  future  path.  I  am  in  no  pain  about 
the  event.  Man  is  a  proud  creature,  and  prone  to  please  himself 
with  the  imagination  of  influence  and4>ower ;  but  in  reality,  he  bal 
none,  any  further  than  a^  it  is  given  him  from  above.  The  G****^ 
or  whoever  else  are  displeased  with  you,  have  their  commission,  and^ 
limits  assigned  them  by  one  whom  they  little  think  of ;  and  when 
Aey  seem  to  think  they  can  do  most,  they  shalf,  in  effect,  do  no-^ 
thing  but  as  instruments  of  his  will.  I  trust  the  Lord  will  stand' 
by  you,  put  his  love  into  your  heart,  and  suitable  words  into  your 
mouth,  and  overrale  the  nrinds  of  them  with  whom  you  have  to  do. 
And  if  he  has  farther  service  for  you  in  that  situation,  you  will 
find  that  his  hodk  and  bridle  will  hold  them  in,  so  that  they  shall 
not  be  able  to  hurt  you.  As  you  know  whom  you  have  believed^ 
and  where  to  apply  for  strength  suited  to  your  day,  according  to 
fais  promise,  I  am  so  far  from  trembling  for  the  event,  that  1  con- 
gratulate you  on  the  honourable  opportunity  that  is  before  you  of 
witnessing  a  good  confession  in  such  a  presence,  which  I  trust  the 
Lord  will  own  ^nd  bless  yon  in.  Fear  them  not.  Remember  Jesus 
stood  befori*  the  High  Priest,  Herod,  and  Pilate,  for  yoo.  But 
how  diffisrent  are  the  cases !  You  may  perhaps  meet  with  some  ex- 
pressions of  dislike,  but  the  laws  of  the  land  will  protect  yov  from 
the  fiiU  effects  of  their  resentment ;  and  even  the  laws  of  polite-' 
ness  wilt  in  some  degree  restrain  them.  You  are  not  going  to  be 
buffetted,  blinded,  and  spit  upon.  Lodk  at  your  regimentals,  and 
let  them  remim)  you  of  Him  who  wore  a  scarlet  robe  for  you,  not 
as  a  mark  of  honourable  service,  but  as  a  badge  of  infamy.  Yoa 
are  a  soldier;  iryoa  were  appointed  to  march  against  a  bat- 


302  TO  J.  8««««,  Esq.  [Let  2* 

terji^  though  it  is  a  service  not  agreeable  to  flesh  and  blood,  yet  a 
sense  of  hononr,  and  what  you  owe  to  your  liing,  your  country, 
and  yourself,  would  prompt  you  to  reject  any  rising  thought  of 
fear,  that  might  betray  you  to  act  a  part  unsuitable  to  your  cha- 
racter, with  disdain.  But,  O  how  much  stronger  and  more  ani- 
mating are  the  motives  which  should  influence  us  as  Christian 
soldiers !  I  trust  you  will  fully  feel  their  influence.  There  is  but 
a  veil  of  flesh  and  blood  between  you  and  that  unseen  world 
where  Jesus  reigns  in  all  his  glory.  Perhaps  you  will  be  attend- 
ed with  such  companies  of  the  heavenly  host  as  made  themselves 
visible  to  the  shepherds.  How  will  they  rejoice  to  see  you  fer- 
vent and  faithful  in  your  Master's  cause  !  Nay,  he  himself  will  be 
there ;  and,  though  yon  cannot  see  him,  he  will  be  looking  upon 
yon,  as  he  did  on  his  servant  Stephen.  Then  think  of  the  day 
when  he,  in  his  turn,  will  own  and  confess  you  before  an  assem- 
bled world.  Yea,  perhaps  upon  the  spot  he  may  witness  his  ap- 
probation ;  and  if  you  can  hear  him  whispering  in  your  heart, 
^*  Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant,"  you  will  Uttle  regard 
what  is  said  against  you.  As  to  consequences,  leave  them  in  his 
hand,  they  shall  be  all  good  and  glorious  to  them  that  fear  him. 
He  may  sufler  a  cloud  to  appear,  but  he  can  blow  it  away  in  a 
moment ;  he  may  permit  this  or  that  source  to  be  stopped  up,  but 
he  can  open  twenty  in  the  room  of  it.  He  can  show  you  how  lit- 
tle dependence  there  is  to  be  placed  on  the  friendship  and  favour 
of  men,  when  once  we  are  enabled  to  be  active  and  hearty  for  him  ; 
but  these  failures  shall  only  give  occasion  of  showing  you  likewise, 
how  all-sufficient  he  is  in  wisdom,  love,  and  power,  to  give  more 
and  better  than  creatures  can  possibly  deprive  us  of.  Fear  not, 
be  strong-^yea,  I  say  unto  you,  be  strong ;  the  Lord  of  hosts  is 
with  you.  I  am  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  II. 

AprU  13,  nQl. 
1  HOPE  you  find,  while  you  attempt  to  water  others,  that  yoii 
Me  watered  and  blessed  in  your  own  soul.  May  the  Lord  opan 
your  month  and  strengthen  your  hands,  and  own  your  labours,  if 
it  is  his  pleasure  to  employ  you  in  his  public  service.  The  fields 
are,  indeed,  white  for  harvest ;  and  though  I  must  govern  myself 
by  such  views  as  the  Lord  is  pleased  to  give  me,  when  I  look  round 
and  see  the  state  of  things,  and  the  miserable  darkness  and  securi- 
ty of  poor  sinners,  I  am  not  sorry  that  there  are  those  who  can 
and  do  attempt  those  services  which  I  cannot.    When  I  see  the 


Let.  3.]  TO  J.  s****,  ESQ,  303 

beart  humble,  and  simply  devoted  to  the  Lord,  in  whatever  way 
Christ  is  preached,  I  can,  yea,  and  will  rejoice*  Give  me  leave 
to  suggest,  that  the  enemy  of  souls  will  owe  you  a  bitter  grudge  for 
your  zeal ;  you  will  have  many  eyes  upon  you,  and  hearts  against 
you ;  the  work  is  great,  and  the  heart  deceitful.  1  doubt  not  but 
you  are  apprised  of  the  need  of  watchfulness  and  prayer  ;  yet  you 
will  not  be  angry  with  me  for  reminding  you. 

You  will  have  two  counter-streams  to  withstand,  either  of  which 
is  sufficient  tobear  us  off  our  feet,  unless  the  Lord  uphcdds  us  ;  I 
mean  opposition  and  popularity.  The  former  is  troublesome, 
and  in  some  respects  perilous,  as  we  are  too  prone  to  catch  some- 
thing of  the  same  spirit.  But  the  latter  is  much  more  dangerous. 
Our  friends  are  often  eventually  our  worst  enemies,  it  is  not  easy 
to  find  a  preacher  that  has  been  honoured  with  much  popularity, 
who  has  not  been  at  some  times  greatly  hurt  by  it.  It  is  apt  to 
make  us  forget  who,  and  what,  and  where  we  are  ;  and  if  we  are 
left  to  suppose  ourselves  persons  of  consequence,  but  for  a  single 
hour,  it  will  surely  prove  to  our  loss,  and  may  expose  us  to  a 
,  wound  that  may  leave  a  lasting  scar,  even  thougn  the  Lord  is 
pleased  to  heal  it.  I  behooves  us,  my  dear  Sir,  to  keep  up  a  cleac 
distinction  in  our  minds  between  gifts  and  grace.  I  can  say,  from 
experience,  that  it  is  possible  to  have  a  tolerable  degree  of  liberty 
f(Mr  outward  service,  so  as  to  hold. a  congregation  pretty  fast  bv 
the  ears,  to  make  them  weep,  yea,  and  perhaps  to  weep  with 
them,  when  the  heart  is  far  enough  from  a  nght  frame  before  tfa*. 
Lord.  These  things  you  know  ;  I  had  them  not  in  view  when  i 
began,  but  they  occurred  in  writing,  and  I  set  them  dowq  as  a 
humbling  part  of  my  experience.  May  the  Lord  enable  us  lo 
walk  huihbly,  and  then  we  shall  walk  safely  ;  to  such  he  will  etve 
more  grace.  He  will  be  (heir  light,  their  strength,  and  their  joy. 
May  you  ever  find  him  so. 

1  am,  dear  Sir,  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  HI. 

June  16,  1767. 
Derr  Sir, 

You  perhaps  think  me  lonj^  in  answering  your  acceptable 
and  obliging  favour,  but  I  was  willing  to  take  a  second  thought 
concerning  the  point  on  which  vou  desire  my  advice.  I  shall  be- 
gin  with  this,  and  may  the  Lord  help  me  to  write  as  I  ought. 

I  am  fully  satisfied  with  your  views,  and  your  abilities  for  the 
ministry,  and  should  have  greatly  rejoiced  to  have  seen  you  upon 
our  list,  if  the  Lord  had  inclined  you  that  way,  and  opened  you  a 


>304  TO  J.  8****,  Bs%.  [Let.  3* 

door  in  his  providence  nt  your  first  setting  out.  But  I  fear  th^ 
thing  is,  humanly  speaking,  impracticable,  after  the  steps  you 
have  taken.  Considering  your  situation  in  liCe,  and  the  public 
manner  in  which  you  have  preached,  I  apprehend  you  have  made 
yourself  too  obnoxious  for  any  bishop  to  accept  your  ai^kratioo. 
But,  as  the  Lord  has  all  hearts  in  his  hands,  and  can  bring  to  pass 
things  that  are  most  unUkely,  I  ought  to  suppose  the  thing  so  fai- 
possLble,  as  to  submit  the  consideration  of  another  particular, 
whether,  if  you  could  procure  ordination,  you  could  properly,  and 
vf'tth  integrity,  accept  of  it,  and  enter  as  a  minister  of  the  estafa^ 
lished  church,  with  a  previous  and  fixed  determination  tause  your 
liberty  indifferently,  of  preaching  in  all  places  and  circumfttancee 
as  you  do  now.  And,  I  must  own,  that  if  you  are  determined  to 
pay  no  regard  to  those  regulations  which  seem  to  me  incumbent 
on  ministers  in  the  establishment,!  think  you  had  bett^  remain  as 
you  are«  If  you  are  satisfied  with  your  present  call,  you  are  now 
iree  to  act  as  your  conscience  shall  lead  you  :  why  then  should 
you  fetter  yourself  ?  For,  more  or  less,  you  will  find  episcopal  or- 
dination a  restraint.  As  to  the  positive  engagements  you  would 
bring  yourself  under  to  the  bishops,  I  thinS  all  is  inclraed  in  the 
teim  canonical  obedience  ;  to  which  you  must  bind  yourself  by 
oath.  The  measure  of  this  obedience  undoubtedly  must  be  the 
canons  ;  and  the  sense,  in  my  judgment,  is  obedience  to  all  their 
requirements,  so  far  as  the  canons  extend,  and  where  conjscience 
does  not  unavoidably  interfere.  Indeed)  I  am  not  sure  that  the 
*  canons  do  expressly  prohibit  a  minister  from  preaching  indiffer- 
ently, when  he  pleases  ;  and  therefore  it  may  seem  yol?  are  not 
bound  by  them.  This  I  think  is  an  excuse  for  those  of  my  breth- 
ren, who  having  been  ordained  before  they  considered  or  knew- 
the  nature  of  their  iunction,  and  awakened  afterwards,  have  been 
led  insensibly,  and  by  steps,  to  extend  their  labours  far  and  wide. 
But  things  are  so  well  understood  now  on  both  sides,  thai  for  a 
man  to  apply  for  ordination  with  a  design  to  act  contrary  to  the 
general  rule  of  parochial  cure,  carries  the  appearance  of  disinge- 
nuity  ;  and  if  the  canons  are  silent,  1  believe  the  laws  of  the  land 
give  every  minister  such  a  right  in  hi&  own  parish,  as  not  to  allow 
any  other  person  to  preach  in  it  without  his  consent,  unless  he 
claims,  as  a  diseenter,  the  benefit  of  the  Act  of  Toleration.  1  ap- 
prehend all  the  church  ministers  who  act  notoriously  irregular,  are 
exposed  to  suffer  inconveniences  for  it,  if  ever  it  shall  please  God 
to  permit  their  superiors  to  put  their  power  by  law  in  force  against 
them. 

As  to  those  who  are  alreadv  in  this  way,  and  who  think  it  their 
duty  to  go  on  in  defiance  of  all.  that  might  be  done  against  them,  I 
have  nothing  to  say  ;  1  rejoice  in  their  zeal  and  success,  so  far  as 
they  appear  to  act  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  good  of  souls,  and 


Leu  3.]  to  J.  3**«*,  ES<ju  dOd 

Lord  is  pleased  to  hooour  them  with  vsefMness  ;  but  I  cannot  so 
well  approve  of  a  person's  entering  into  orders,  with  a  view  to 
disregard  the  established  regulations  of  the  church.  In  your  case 
it  seems  not  at  all  necessary,  for  you  would  not  preach  better^^or 
probably  to  greater  numbers,  if  you  were  ordained  \  for  your  red 
coat  and  shoulder  knot  wil)  probiably  excite  the  curiosity  of  the 

Eeopie  as  much  as  my  gown  and  cassock  can  do»  And  ihen  I 
ave  some  reluctance  to  your  giving  up  your  connexions  in  the 
army,  and  especially  as  tou  assured  me  that  your  influence,  bofti 
with  the  officerft  and  soldiers,  is  no  way  lessened  by  your  icom- 
mencing  preacher*  The  continual  removes  of  your  regiment  will 
give  yon  the  opportunity  of  declaring  the  glad  tidings  in  a  ^eat 
variety  of  places  \  your  rank  in  the  army  will  excite  the  attention 
of  the  people  wherever  you  go ;  and  now  useful  the  Lord  may 
make  you  amonest  the  soldiery,  who  can  iell  ?  So  that  supposing; 
you  are  satisfied  in  yourself  as  to  your  present  proceedings^  you 
fiecm  to  have  fairer  and  more  extensive  opportunities  for  useful* 
ness  than  any  of  us,  and  none  can -charge,  you  with  inconsistency, 
or  give  you  tix)uble  for  what  you  do*  1  do  not  wopder  that  your 
family  should  wish  you  to  take  orders,  because  it  would  in  sono^ 
ineasure  remove  that  odium  which  they  suppose  you  are  under  by 
preaching  in  your  present  capacity* .  But  I  am  persuaded  this 
alone  would  not  be  a  sufficient  motive  to  you*  Mr.  H***^'a 
judgment  has  a  considerable  weight  with  me  ;  but,  in  the  present 
case,  I  am  constrained  to  differ  ironp  him,  for  the  reasons  I  have 
suggested  above#  However,  I  trust  that  the  Lord,  whom  you 
serve,  will  be  your  beat  and  infallible  ixounsellor,  and  in  time  give 
you  clear  satisfaction  M  H^  what  he  would  have  vou  to  do* 

I  am  sorry  to  see  n^yself  so  near  the  bottom  of  my  paper,  before 
I  have  opportunity  to  say  something  of  that  precious  name,  Jesus* 
Continue  to  look  to  Him,  my  dear  friend^  and  he  will  guide  you 
with  his  eye,  give  you  support  for  the  present,  and  direfr^ion  for 
the  future*  u  be  were  upon  earth,  and  you  could  get  near  him^ 
would  you  not  lay  your  di$oukies  before  him  ?  Voii  have  the 
same  liberty  and  encoiu^gement  to  do  it  f^mfMs  if  you  saw  him 
with  your  eyes*  |  need  not  tell  you  this ;  fwk  know  it ;  yet 
though  our  judgments  t^re  fully  convinced  that  he  is  as  near,  as 
kind,  as  attentive  to  our  concerns,  as  ready  to  fader,  and  as  willing 
to  assist  as  our  own  hearts  can  wish,  it  is  not  always  easy  to  re- 
duce these  sentiments  to  practiceji  Unbelief,  that  injurious  bar, 
interposes  and  starts  a  thousand  anxious  thoughts  to  hide  him 
from  us*  If  you  find,  througjh  grace,  that  you  are  submissive,  and 
only  desirous  to  know  his  will,  and  continue  waiting  upon  himt 
then  fear  not ;  he  will  not  suffer  a  soul  that  depends  upon  him  to 
take  a  wrong  step  in  a  matter  o^  such  imjpo^nce*    .And  if  yoo 

Vol.  ly.  39 


306  TO  J.  s****,  ES^.  [Leu  i^ 

find  that  he  has  assisted  and  owned  you  in  what  you  have  done 
hitherto,  I  would  not  have  you  entertain  an  uneasy  doubt  that  you* 
have  acted  wrong. 

I  am,  Sir,  yours.. 


EETTEB  IV. 

July  14,  1767. 
Dear  Sir, 

I  THANK  you  for  your  favour  of  the  3(1.  I  wish  I  could  ofler- 
you  advice  worthy  of  the  confidence  you  place  in  me.  Your  rea- 
sons for  a  setdenient  are  weighty.  I  can  only  say,  be  much  in 
Srayer,  and  atteml  to  the  leadings  of  Divine  Providence,  and  t 
oubtnot  but  he  wiH  make  yeur  path  of  duty  clear  ;  not  jKjrhaps 
all  at  once,  but  by  degrees,  and,  though  slowly,  yet  surely  -,  so 
Aat  after  you  have  been  exercised  with  uncertainties  for  a  season-, 
you  shall  find  that  be*  is  overruling  all  to  bring  about  what  he  has 
already  appointed  for  vou. 

A&you  seem  to  think,  that  you  may,  upon  cool  reflection,  be  in- 
duced to  see  it  the  duty  of  a  minister  more  peculiarly  to  attend  to 
the  charge  of  a  single  flock,  my  principal  objection  to  your  apply- 
ifig  for  ordination  amongst  us,  is  so  far  lessened.  And  I  trust,  if 
you  alter  your  sentiments  on  this  point,  it  will  be  owine  to  reflec- 
tion and  real  conviction^  atKi  not  to  a  bias  arising  from  the  motives 
and  vie wsyoi^  mention  in  your  letter.  When  a  person  has  a  be- 
coming diffidence  of  his  own  judgment,  he  is  apt  to  be  influenced 
(perhaps  too  far)  by  the  advice  and  example  of  Chose  whom  he 
esteems  wiser  and  better  than  himselfe  It  is  no  wonder,  therefore, 
that  if  you  attend  only  to  the  advice  and'  example  of  those  of  our 
friends  who- are  warm  for  itinerancy,  when  yeu  consider  their  zeal; 
their  motives,  and  their  apparent  success,  you- should  think  it  mat- 
ter of  duty,  not  only  to  follow,  but,  if  possible,  to  go  beyond  them. 
For  my  own  part,  the  love  and  esteem  I  bear  to  many  persons  in 
that  line  is  so  great,  that  1  know  not  if  I  durst  tinist  myself  to  be  shut 
up  Ion  J  amongst  them  in  a  room,  lest  they  should,  as  it  were,  com- 
pel me  to  break  through  all  bounds,  and  totally  forget  the  views  I 
nave  had  upon  mature  deliberation,  and  in  my  cooler  hours.  But 
1  find  it  best,  wben<  good  men  are  divided,  to  hear  wjiat  may  be 
said  on  both  sides;  I  imaeine  your  connexions  have  chiefly  led 
you  to  consider  the  plausible  appearances  on  the  one  side  of  the 
question.  But  I  can  assure  yon,  there  are  (if  I  mistake  not)  some 
weighty  considerations  to  be  offered  in  hehdilf  of  regularity.  And, 
by  way  of  balance  to  what  has  occurred  to  you  against  it,  I  could 
wish  you  had  an  opportunity  of  convei*sing  with  my  frieo,d  Mr. 


tet.  4.]  TO  jv  s****,  Es^.  SW 

T****,  who,  perhaps,  might  be  of  use  to  settle  your  jtfdgtoent 
and  determination  as  to  your  future  conduct*  Though  the  diffi^ 
culties  in  the  way  of  your  ordination  are  great,  they  ai*e  certainly 
not  insuperable^  They  were  very  great  against  me  ^  yet  the 
Lord  opened  a  way.  Some  concessions  will  perhaps  be  ezpec 
ted  from  you,  with  respect  to  what  will  be  called  the  irregularity 
of  your  late  proceedings  ;  and  therefore  the  strongest  bars  will  be 
.laid  in  the  way  by  your  own  honour  and  conscience,  unless  you 
should  see  that,  all  things  considered,  it  is  best  for  a  clergyman 
genera-lly  to  restrain  his  zeal  within  the  bounds  allowed  and  pre- 
scribed by  law  5  for,  1  dare  say,  unless  you  see  it  so,  you  will  not 
say  so. 

You  may  depend  upon  the  business  you  intrusted  me  with  be- 
ing kept  a  profound  secret.  Though  you  have  not  mentioned  the 
person,  yet  as  you  seem  to  speak  as  if  she  were  n6t  a  stranger  to 
"  me,  1  suppose  I  guess  who  she  is ;  and  if  I  guess  ri^ht,  I  congratu- 
late your  choice  ;  for  it  seems  suitable  in  every  respefct*  1  have 
reason  to  be  a  frrend  to  tnarriage ;  and  \  doubt  not  but  if  the  Lord 
is  pleased  to  give  you  a  suitable  partner,  it  will  both  add  to  yovtt 
-comfort  and  strengthen  your  hands  in  his  service.  Commit  your- 
self, therefore,  to  him  ;  act  so  far  as  he  affords  you  an  opening  5 
ronsult  him  step  by  step  ;  follow  his  providence  close,  but  do  not 
force  it.  We  are  prone  to  pursue  things  that  appear  desirable 
ivith  too  much  keenness ;  but  in  his  leadings  there  is  usually  a 
praying  time  and  a  waiting  time.  Yea,  he  often  brings  a  seemin^^ 
death  upon  our  hopes  and  prospects  just  when  he  is  about  to  ac- 
complish them,  and  thereby  we  more  clearly  see  and  diore  thaak- 
fully  acknowledge  his  interposition. 

The  bearer  ol  this  is  a  simple,  honest  man  ^  a  good  proficient  in 
the  Lord's  ways  for  the  time  of  his  standing.  Like  most  of  the 
41ock,  he  has  many  exercises,  both  inward  and  outward.  If  you 
have  time  to  speak  with  him,  be  will  tell  more  at  large  how  it  is 
with  us. 

I  rejoice  that  the  Lord  brought  you  honourably  off  from  your 
challenge,  and  ^ave  you  victory  without  fighting.  This  shows  his 
power  over  all  hearts,  and  that  he  is  a  sure  refuge  and  buckler  to 
all  who  trust  him.  O  that  we  could  trust  him  at  all  times,  and 
pour  out  our  hearts  before  him !  When  Moses  was  in  any  difficulty, 
he  repaired  to  the  tabernacle)  and  always  found  direction  and  sup- 
port. This  was  his  peculiar  privilege,  the  people  could  not  come 
so  near  ;  but  under  the  Gospel,  ail  the  Lora^s  people  have  the 
privilege  of  Moses,  to  come  into  his  immediate  presence,  and  tell 
him  all  their  wants  at  all  times.  How  happy  should  we  be  if  we 
could  fully  improve  this  privilege,  and  bring  every  thing,  as  fast 
as  it  happens,  to  the  throne  of  grace.    Surely  he  does  not  sit  foe» 


iM  fo  i.  «MHHi^  je8^«  [Let  i, 

mem  the  cbe^obim  for  any  otber  porpose  than  to  give  us  answers 
<if  grate  and  peace  all  the  dtcy  long. 
Lam,  dear  Sir, 

Your  aflecftionate  servant  abd  fellow-pilgrini. 


t£TTER  y. 


iSept.  28,  17614 


My  f)£AR  t^RXENfir, 

Yours  of  the  Slst  of  Aiigusl^  frcntt  York,  gaVe  moch  pleasure  (6 
me,  and  to  your  friends  here.  I  rejoice  that  the  Lord  enabled 
you  to  stand  up  for  bis  trutb,  and  gave  you  the  victory  in  the 
manner  you  relate.  It  is  k  proof  that  be  is  indeed  on  your, 
jiide ;  and  I  think  it  is  an  intimation  that  you  are  in  the  right 
place.  Indeed,  I  own  I  could  never  heartily  wish  to  see  you  in 
dkr  uniform ;  for  I  think  you  bid  fair  to  be  more  extensively  use* 
ful  by  keeping  your  stiind  in  the  army,  and  continuing  to  preach 
where  the  Lonl  opens  you  a  door.  As  to  c6nsiderations  of  a  per* 
sonai  nature,  I  doubt  dot  but  you  desire  to  hold  them  in  subor- 
dttltttion  to  the  will  of  Grod  and  the  calls  of  duty  ;  and  why  might 
dot  ^hitt  you  Minted  to  me  t^ke  place  while  a  captaiil^,  Us  well  as 
if  a  clergymen  f  Of  this  you  are  the  best  judge  ;  but,  in  gener- 
al$  I  know  the  Lord  can  and  will  order  all  thmgs  for  the  good 
bfhis  children,  and  especially  of  those  who  are  desirous  to  give' 
themselves  up,  without  reserve,  to  his  service,  and  to  cast  all  their 
care  and  tonceftis  on  him  by  faith  and  prayer. 

I  hope  Mr.  B^**  and  you  are  mutually  comfortable  ftnd  pro-> 
Stable  to  eftch  other.  I  understand  bis  heart  is  warm  for  the 
Work,  and  perhaps  your  teal  aiidetample  have  quickened  kts  de- 
sire to  what  1  sometimes  bear  called  ati  apostolic  mission,  and 
what  Others  disapprove  by  the  term  irregularity.  For  my  own 
palrt,  I  Wish  Well  to  alt,  both  regblars  and  irregulars^  that  love  and 
preach  Jesus.  But  1  rertfember  a  question  something  to  the  pur- 
|)08e,  (and  thki  he  was  a  man  of  a  warm  seal,  and  little  under  the, 
influence  of  Worldly  wisdom  as  toy  we  hope  to  be  in  this  day,)  Who 
somewhere  asks,  **  Are  alt  apostles  f^^  If  it  should  be  tillowed, 
(which  t  should  be  unwilling  to  contradict,)  that  in  die  case  of 
some  perhapi  in  your  ease,  there  are  some  circumstances  which^ 
taken  in  connexion  With  the  event  of  things,  do  evidently  Justify ' 
their  acting  in  that  Way  which  some  call  irregular ;  it  will  not 
follow,  thereforei  that  every  young  inan  Who  has  a  fldr  and 
peaeeable  right  to  expect  orders  in  the  church,  and  a  provident 
tial  appointment  to  the  cure  of  soub  in  a  particular  place,  wonUf 


L<EJt  BJ  TO  i.  8*^**,  tis<i.  Sod 

do  well  to  follow  tbeir  $teps.  It  appears  to  me  that  parochial 
charge  is  a  weighty  things  and  that  a  minister  who  keeps  much 
with  his  own  people,  watches  over  and  warns  them  publicly, 
^nd  from  hoose  to  house  (  ac(}uaints  himself  with  their  situa- 
tions, tempers,  and  temptations,  and  thereby  knows  how  to  speak 
a  word  in  season  to  them,  and  is  on  the  spot  to  guard  them  against 
the  first  symptoms  of  a  declension,  or  the  first  appearances  of 
error ;  I  say,  soch  an  one  appears  to  me  in  a  competent  sphere 
of  duty  ;  and  if  he  admits  engagements  manifestly  inconsistent 
with  such  a  close  and  sedulous  attention^  he  may  appear  more 
important  to  himself,  or  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  but  will  not,  up- 
on the  whole,  be  so  useful.  There  is  that  in  us  by  nature  which 
may  dispose  us  to  be  well  pleased  At  aiming  at  great  things  ;  and 
though  1  trust  that  many  who  sel  out  as  if  they  expected  to  con- 
Vert  whole  countries,  act  from  nobler  motives,  even  a  gracious 
concern  for  the  glory  of  €rod  and  the  good  of  souls,  yet  our  own 
evil  is  so  deeply  and  closely  entwined  with  the  good  which  the 
Lord  puts  into  our  hearts,  that  I  believe  many  who  earnestly  de- 
aire  to  promote  the  gospel  interest,  do  in  some  respects  hurt  it,  by 
overlooking  all  regard  to  order^  treating  the  most  express  and 
positive  engagements  as  not  worthy  of  notice^  drawing  a  sort  of 

S arrant  thereby  for  any  person  to  undertake  any  ^rvice,  who^ 
links  himself  qualified  for  it. 

As  to  yourself,  my  dear  Str,  my  whole  heart  goes  with  you  iff 
your  endeavours  to  serve  the  Lord  ;  what  he  has  done  for  you, 
&nd  by  you,  are  satisfactory  proofs  to  me  of  your  call.  But  I 
write  thus  to  beg  you  not  to  make  your  own  case  a  precedent  ^ 
when  you  meet  with  young  men  of  right  views  and  promising 
talents,  who  seem  properly  qualified  to  serve  God  in  the  establisii-* 
ed  church,  if  they  are  ready  to  catch  your  fire,  I  would  wish  yoK 
lather  to  assist  them  with  a  bridle  than  a  spur  ;  advise  them  to 
follow  the  leadings,  and  wait  the  openings  of  Providence  ;  to  be- 
ginHrrith  small  things,  and  not  to  think  their  time  lost,  if  the  Lord 
tbottid  pve  tliem  such  an  easy  service  as  may  afford  them  leisure 
ibr  a  close  study  of  the  word  of  God  and  of  their  hearts,  that  they 
teay  come  to  be  soKd,  Scriptural,  experimental,  and  judicious 
preachers,  be  furnished  with  ah  acceptable  variety,  and  prove, 
tKylh  to  the  church  and  the  world,  workmen  that  need  not  to  be 
a&hamed.  Some  young  men  have  been  loose  and  i^w  preachers 
ail  their  days,  by  thinking  a  warm  impressicNi  of  a  text  of  Scrip- 
.  lure,  and  a  compassionate  feeling  for  the  souls  of  sinners,  almost 
the  only  necessary  requisites.  When  a  young  tree  puts  out  blos- 
:8on^  in  great  abundance,  the  skilAil  gardener  pulls  many  off^ 
«Ad  thou^  lie  thereby  lessens  its  fruitfuloess  for  the  present^  te 
Mcnuea  it  for  the  fbiore.  1  am  yours,  be.. 


310  TO  J.  s****,  E8^.  [tiet.  ۥ 

LETTER  VI. 

J^ovember  9,  1767. 
My  Dear  Fiuend, 

I  THINK  we  fully  agree  in  our  sentiments  about  preachers* 
The  gifts,  the  views,  the  services  of  those  who  are  sent  and  taught 
by  the  same  Spirit,  may  be,  and  are  in  many  respects,  differ* 
ent ;  but  if  they  are  sent  and  taught  by  him,  they  will  preach 
the  same  Jesus,  they  will  equally  confess  their  dependence  on  the 
Holy  Spirit  for  their  ability  and  success ;  and,  more  or  less,  he 
will  own  their  ministrations,  and  give  them  living  witnesses  and 
seals  that  ho  has  employed  them  in  his  work.  Those  who  agree  in 
these  essentials,  would  do  well  to  agree  amongst  themselves,  and 
to  wish  each  other  prosperity  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.  When  1 
see  a  competency  of  spiritual  knowledge,  and  a  humble  frame  of 
mind,  I  would  not  look  further,  nor  inquire  whether  the  instru- 
ment is  a  scholar  or  a  gownsman,  before  I  give  him  the  right  hand 
of  fellowsliip.  But  I  own,  if  people  attempt  to  teach  others  what 
they  very  poorly  understand  themselves ;  or  if  the  deportment 
savours  of  self-confidence  and  a  desire  of  being  noticed,  I  am 
ready  to  fear  they  run  before  they  are  sent.  I  wish  that  none 
of  us  who  arfe  called  regular,  may  affect  to  despise  those  who^ 
from  a  principle  of  love  to  the  Lord  and  to  souls,  think  it 
right  to  move  more  at  large  than  we  do.  And  1  wish  that  none 
in  your  way  would  censure  and  condemn  us  for  being  incumbent 
upon  what  we  conceive  to  be  our  proper  work  and  charge,  but 
candidly  believe  we  may  have  other  reasons  than  the  fear  of  man^ 
or  the  love  of  ease,  (though,  alas  !  1  know  not  to  what  charge 
I  dare  plead  an  absolute  Not  Guilty,)  for  not  choosing  to  depart 
from  our  present  path,  and  to  imitate  yours.  I  say  I  wish  thef^ 
may  be  this  mutual  candour  on  all  sides  ;  but  if  not,  those  will  be 
happiest  who  can  bear  the  misapprehensions  of  their  brethren 
without  being  either  grieved  or  offended.  It  is  a  small  thing  to 
to  be  judged  of  men.  If  the  Lord  condescends  to  smile  upon  as, 
and  gives  ns  to  maintain  a  good  conscience  in  his  sight,  so  that  we 
can  humbly  appeal  to  him  that  we  aim  at  bis  glory,  we  may  be 
content  to  bear  any  thing  else.  We  shall  all  be  of  one  mind  ere 
long.  In  the  mean  time,  may  w^  ever  remember,  that  not  he  that 
commendeth  himself  is  approved^  but  whom  the  Lord  com 
mendeth. 

I  am  glad  that  you  have  been  at  H-— ;  I  made  no' doubt 

but  you  would  love  my  dear  friend ;  possibly  I  may  overrate  htm^ 
I  own  he  is  but  a  man,  but  1  think  him  an  uncommon  one  ;  an 
eminent  instance  of  the  true  Christian  spirit.     This  is  what  in 


Liet-,  6.]  TO  J.  s****,  Bs<i.-  ;il  I 

most  taking  with  me.  Gifts  are  useful ;  but  tliey  are  mere  tin* 
se),  compared  witli  the  solid  gold  of  grace.  An  eminency  in 
gifts  is  specious  and  glittering  ;  but  unless  grace  is  proportiona- 
ble, very  ensnaring  likewise.  Gifts  are  like  riches  :  if  well  im- 
proved, they  give  a  man  fairer  opportunilies  of  service  ;  but  if  the 
Lord  favours  a  man  with  great  gifts,  and  in  consequence  thereof, 
considerable  popularity,  that  man  stands  in  a  dangerous  situa* 
tioo  :  if  he  is  not  kept  humble,  great,  soon,  will  be  his  fall }  and 
to  keep  such  a  roan  humble,  more  than  a  common  share  of  trials 
is  usually  needful.  My  prayer  for  you  and  for  myself,  my  dear 
friend,  is,  that  M^e  may  never  he  suiTered  to  infer  grace  from 
gifts,  or  to  mistake  the  exercise  of  the  one  for  the  exercise  of 
the  other.  We  have  need  to  be  saying  continually,  ^'  Held  thou 
me  up,  and  I  shall  be  safe."  How  else  can  we  stand  ?  If  we 
tneet  with  opposiUon,  it  has  hurt  its  thousands.  If  we  are  expo- 
sed to  caresses  and  popularity,  they  have  slain  their  ten  thousands. 
Jesus  alone  is  able  to  preserve  us,  and  he  is  able  to  preserve  us 
fully  ;  in  the  lion's  den,  in  the  fiery  furnace,  in  the  swellings  of 
Jordan.  If  he  be  wiih  us,  and  maintain  in  us  a  sense  of  our  un- 
worthiness,  and  our  entire  dependence  upon  him,  we  shall  be  safe. 
I  see  that,  besides  the  general  lot  of  affliction  in  common  with 
others,  you  are  likely  to  have  one  peculiar  trial,  which  might  be 
lightly  regarded  by  some,  but  not  by  me.  Indeed,  I  can  sympa- 
thize with  you ;  and,  from  what  I  have  formerly  felt,  I  am  sure  no- 
thing but  tlw  grace  of  God  can  compose  the  mind  under  such  a  dis- 
appointment. But  remember,  he  has  given  you  himself.  If  he  sees 
fit  to  overrule  your  desires,  be  sure  it  is  best  for  you.  The  Lord 
seee  all  consequences ;  if  we  could  do  so,  we  should  acquiesce  in 
his  appointments  the  first  moment.  If  it  is  for  your  good  and  his 
glory,  it  shall  yet  take  place,  (you  would  not  wish  it  otherwise  ;.) 
>fnot,  he  can  make  it  up  perhaps  in  kind^  (for  there  is  an  old 
proverb,  '^  That  there  is  as  good  fish  in  the  sea  as  ever  came  ou'^ 
of  it ;")  but  if  not  so,  he  can  easily  make  it  op  in  kindness,  and 
give  you  such  a  taste  of  bis  love  that  you  shall  gladly  forego  all-, 
and  say  as  David,  Psal.  IxxiiL  25.  Let  olher  things  turn  out  as- 
he  pleases,  yon  must  be  happy,  for  the  Lord  himself  is  your 
guide,  your  shield,  and  your  portion.  Keep  your  eye  and  heart 
my  friend,  upon  his  work,  and  he  will  take  care  of  your  other  nf- 
feirs,  and  not  withhold  any  good  thing  from  you.  All  hearts  are 
tn  his  hands ;  when  his  time  is  come,  bard  things  are  made  easy, 
and  mountains  siol^  inio  plains.. 

I  am,  deac  Sir,  yours,  &c* 


3I»  .      TO  J.  B**»*,  Est/  £f»f.  Tt 

LETTER  VIL 

Janmry  4, 1768. 
My  Deak  F&ienp, 

Mt  heart  is  inucb  with  yoa,  1  trust,  as  it  would  be  had  you 
the  most  canonical  appfDintment,  and  the  most  regular  sphere  of 
service.  And  I  would  as  willingly  hear  you  in  your  usual  placesi 
as  if  you  preached  iu  St*  Paul's.  But  as  I  have  already  answer* 
ed  your  letter,  this,  and  uiore  that  I  could  offer  iVom  it,  now  I 
have  it  before  me,  may  be  little  more  than  repetition. 

I  hope  the  entrance  of  the  new  year  will  be  blessed  to  you« 
The  last  was  to  me  a  year  of  peculiar  mercies  !  Bui,  alas  !  as  to 
my  part  in  it,  I  have  little  pleasure  in  the  review.  Alas!  how  much 
faituness  and  unfruitfulness  has  the  Lord  borne  with  from  tne  I 
Indeed,  I  am  almost  continually  a  burden  to  myself,  and  find  sucb 
a  difference  between  what  I  seem  to  bein  the  pulpit  and  in  public, 
and  what  I  really  feel  myself  to  be  berore  the  Lord,  that  I  am  b|^ 
ten  amazed  aqd  confounded ;  and  was  it  not  that  the  Lord  liaa 
been  pleased  in  some  measure  to  eatablish  me  in  the  knowledge  of 
my  justifying  righteousness,  and  the  unalterable  security  of  his 
covenant  of  grace,  I  should  be  ready  to  give  all  up.  I  am 
Kept  at  a  great  distance  from  the  full  possession  of  my  privileges  ; 
but,  through  mercy,  the  evils  I  feel  are  confined  within  myself  | 
the  Lord  keeps  me  from  stumbling  outwardly,  and  does  not  snffisr 
Satan  to  distress  me  with  those  grievous  temptations  which  ha 
has  always  in  readiness  when  permitted.  I  trust  my  hope  is  fouo^i' 
ded  upon  a  Rock,  and  that  he  to  whom  I  have  been  enabled  to 
commit  my  soul,  will  keep  it  to  the  end.  Yet,  surely^  I  am  a 
wonder  to  myself. 

Exercises  of  mind  are  common  to  all  who  know  any  thing  of 
themselves,  and  have  some  just  views  of  their  obligations  to  redeem* 
ing  love.  But  those  who  preach  to  others  must  expect  a  double 
portion.  We  need  them  in  order  to  keep  us  humble,  upon  which, 
lis  a  means,  our  success  aud  comfort  especially  depend..^  We  need 
Ihem  that  we  may  know  how  to  speak  a  word  in  season  to  weary 
souls.  Innumerable  are  the  trials,  fears,  complaints,  and  tempta* 
]tions  which  the  Lord's  people  are  beset  with  ;,  some  in  one  way, 
some  in  another  :  the  minister  must,  as  it  were,  have  a  taste  of  all, 
or  it  might  happen  a  case  miglit  come  before  him  to  which  he  had 
nothing  to  say.  And  we  need  them  likewise  to  bring  our  hard 
hearts  into  a  feeling  disposition  and  sympathy  with  those  who 
suffer,  otherwise  we  should  be  too  busy  or  too  happy  to  attend  un-? 
to  their  moans.  Surely  much  of  that  hasty  and  censorious  spirits 
(OP  ofteo  observable  in  young  C9nvi&rt$i  arises  from  their  having, 


Let  8.]  .TO  J.  s«i«»,  Bs^.  318 

as  yet,  a  viery  imperfect  acquaintance  with  tbe  deeeitfutness  of 
their  own  hearts.  But,  the  old  weather-beaten  Christian,  who 
has  learnt  by  sorrowful  experience  how  weak  he  is  in  himself,  and 
what  powerful  subtle  enemies  he  has  to  grapple  with,  acquires  a 
tenderness  in  dealing  with  bruises  and  broken  bones,  which  great- 
ly conduces  to  bis  acceptance  and  usefulness.  1  desire,  therefore, 
to  be  resigned  and  thankful,  and  to  give  myself  up  to  tbe  Lord 
to  lead  me  in  whatever  way  he  sees  best;  only  I  am  grieved,  that 
it  is  so  much  his  appointment  to  keep  me  thus  low,  as  it  is  the  ne- 
cessary consequence  of  my  own  folly  and  remissness. 

I  am  yours,  tzf;. 


I.ETTER  Vin. 

Mt  Dear  Friend, 

From  what  I  have  beard,  1  suppose  this  wilt  not  come  pre- 
mature  to  congratulate  you  on  the  accomplishment  of  your  wishes. 
If  the  late  Miss  C****  is  now  Mrs.  S****,  we  present  our  warm- 
est wishes  of  happiness  to  you  both  in  your  union — a  union  in 
which,  I  trust,  you  will  both  see  the  effect  of  his  love  and  favour 
who.  has  previously,  by  bis  grace,  united  you  to  himself.  I  was 
mucb  pleased  when  you  first  mentioned  your  views  to  me ;  for  I 
thought  you  were  remarkably  suited  and  fitted  for  each  other, 
and  I  had  a  good  hope,  from  tbe  beginning,  that  the  difiiculties 
vFhich  seemed  at  first  to  occur  would  in  due  time  subside.  I  re- 
joice with  you,  therefore  ;  yet  as  one  who  knows  that  tbe  sweetest 
connexions  in  the  present  life  are  attended  with  their  proportion- 
able cares  and  abatements.  No  one  has  more  reason  to  speak 
with  thankfulness  and  satisfaction  of  the  marriage  state  than  my- 
self. It  has  been,  and  is  to  roe,  tbe  best  and  dearest  of  temporal 
blessings ;  but  I  have  found  a  balance,  at  iea.st  an  abateifisent,  in 
the  innumerable  inquietudes  and  painful  sensations  which  at  times 
It  has  cost  me.  So  it  must  be  in  the  present  state ;  we  shall,  in 
one  way  or  other,  feel  that  vanity  is  interwoven  in  every  circum- 
litance  of  life,  and  it  is  needful  we  should  feel  it,  to  correct  that 
proneness  in  our  hearts  to  rest  in  creatures.  However,  the  God 
of  air  grace  has  promised  to  sanctify  the  changes  we  pass  through^ 
and  he  will  not  afilict  us  without  a  cause,  or  without  a  blessing. 
Upon  your  entrance  on  a  new  way  of  life,  you  will  probably  find 
the  enemy  will  ctiaoge  the  manner  and  method  of  his  attacks  ;  be 
suits  himself  to  oar  occasions  and  situations.  With  such  an  ami- 
able partner,  your  chief  danger,  perhaps,  will  lie  iin  being  too 
happy.  Alas !  the  deceitsfplness  pf  our  hearts,  in  a  tim^  Qf  pr<?R- 
Vol.  IV.  49 


314  TO  J.  s*****-.  [Let.  S^ 

periiy,  exposes  us  It)  llie  greatest  of  evils,  to  wander  from  the 
fountahi  of  living  waters,  awd  to  sit  down  by  broken  cisterns. 

The  fondness  of  a  creature  love, 
Ho*f  strong  H  strikes  the  sens^i 

Permit  me  to  bint  to  yoo,  yea,  to  both  of  you.  Beware  of  idola- 
try, I  have  srnrvrted  for  it;  it  has  distressed  me  with  many  ima- 
ginary fears,  and  cut  me  out  much  cause  of  real  humiliation  and 
grief.  I  would  hope  that  others  are  not  so  ungrateful  and  insen- 
sible as  I  anf*;  bui  for  myself,  I  have  chiefly  found  that  the  things 
which  1  have  accounted  my  choice  mercies,  when  I  have  seen  the 
hand  and  tasted  the  goodness  of  the  Lord  the  most  sensibly,  have 
been  the  principal  occasions  of  drawing  out  the  evils  of  my  hearty 
seducing  me  into  backsliding  frames,  and  causing  me  to  walk 
heavily  and  iu  darkness.  And  this  moment,  should  the  Lord  vi- 
sit me  with  breach  upon  breach,  and  bring  the  thing  that  I  most 
fear  upon  me,  I  mu»t  justify  him  ;  for  I  have  turned  all  his  bless- 
ings into  occasions  of  sin,  and  perhaps  those  most  upon  which  my 
heart  has  set  the  highest  value. 

Yet  still  I  must  congratulate  you.  So  sure  as  you  arfe  joined 
you  must  part,  and  such  separations  are  hard  to  flesh  and  blood  ; 
but  it  will  only  be  a  separation  for  a  little  time.  Yon  will  walk 
together  as  fellow-heirs  of  eternal  life,  helpmeets  and  partakers 
of  each  other^s  spiritual  joys,  and  at  length  you  shall  meet  before 
the  throne  of  glory,  and  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord.  May  yoa 
live  under  the  influence  of  these  views,  and  find  every  sweet  made 
still  sweeter  by  the  shining  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  upon 
your  souls ;  and  every  cross  sanctified  to  lead  yoa  to  a  nearer, 
more  immediate,  and  more  absolute  dependence  on  himself.  For 
this  1  hope  frequently  to  pray,  and  I  entreat  your  joint  prayers  for 
9]s.  To  which  I  must  add  my  hope  and  expectation,  that  if  ever 
occasions  should  call  you  into  these  parts,  you  will  certainly,  give 
us  the  pleasure  of  receiving  you  both  at  the  vicarage. 

Your  experiences  and  mine  seem  something  alike,  only  yon  ap- 
pear to  me  to  have  a  quicker  sense  both  of  sin  and  grace  than  I 
have  attaii>ed.  Perhaps  you  think  difierently.  It  is  a  question 
that  can  be  decided  only  by  Him  who  searches  our  hearts.  But 
it  matters  not  who  is  best  or  worst,  since  Jesus  is  necessary  and  suf- 
ficient for  both.  I  trust  he  is  my  righteousness  and  strength,  and 
that  f  do  not  deliberately  look  for  either  elsewhere.  But  the  old 
kaven — a  tendency  to  the  covenant  of  works,  still  cleaves  to  me, 
knd  my  judgment,  (imperfect  as  it  is)  is  much  clearer  than  my 
experience.  I  think  I  can  point  out  the  way  to  others,  but  I  find 
ift  not  easy  to  walk  in  it  myselfl    However,  I  am  learning  to  cease 


Ijet.  9.]  TTO  J.  s»»»«,  Es^,  tSlS 

from  complaiotSi  unless  to  the  Lord,  and  would  ratber  invite  my 
friends  to  join  me  in  praising  bis  goodness  and  grace.  I  am  not 
ivbat  I  would  be  ;  but  there  is  a  period  coming,  wlicn  I  shall  be  so, 
yea,  more  than  my  heart  can  conceive.  I  hope  to  see  Jesus,  to 
be  like  bim,  and  with  him  for  ever. 

1  am  your  very  affectionate,  fee. 


LETTER  IX. 


J^ovcmher  14,  176S. 


Mt  Dear  Sir, 

Your  last  letter  {which  I  am  glad  to  find  is  without. a  date) 
gave  me  much  pleasure.     As  the  Lord  has  shown  you  where 
your  dangers  lie,  and  has  revealed  himself  to  you  as  your  wisdom 
and  strength,  I  doubt  not  but  you  shall  be  led  in  the  path  of  duty 
and  safety.    Sometimes,  indeed,  he  lets  us  make  a  trip,  to  increase 
our  circumspection  and  humiliation,  to  keep  us  sensible  of  our  no- 
thingness,  and  to  endear  to  us  the  name  of  Jesus,  our  gracious 
advocate.     It  is  dil])cult  to  preserve  a  right  frame  of  spirit  in  oup 
necessary  converse  with  temporal  things ;  so  as  not  to  overvalue 
or  undervalue  the  many  tokens  of  his  love,  with  which  he  is  pleased 
to  surround  us.     But,  though  the  lesson  is  hard,  and  we  are  dull 
scholars,  our  Master  is  able  to  teach  us  all  things  that  concern  our 
comfort  and  his  glory  ;  and  he  has  promised  he  will  teach  us.    In- 
deed, we  are  in  his  school  from  morning  to  hight ;  every  occur- 
rence of  every  day,  all  that  passes  within  and  without,  has  a  vsice^ 
and  a  suitableness  to  advance  our  proficiency.     The  providences 
that  affect  our  persons,  families,  and  acquaintance ;    the  work-> 
ings  of  our  own  hearts,  the  conduct  of  others  before  our  eyes, 
whether  good  or  evil,  all  concur  to  expound  and  illustrate  the  word 
of  God,  and  what  we  there  read  concerning  the  two  great  myste- 
ries of  sin  and  grace.     The  best  exposition  of  divine  truth  is  al- 
ways before  us  ;  and  we  may  read  and  study  it  when  we  lie  down 
or  rise  up ;  when  we  sit  in  the  house,  or  %vtien  we  walk  b*y  the 
way.     In  this  way,  though  we  are  slow  to  learn,  yet  the  Lord 
enables  us  to  get  forward  a  little^     And  in  proportion  as  we  ad- 
vance, we  see  more  of  his  fulness  and  sufficiency,  and  the  empti- 
ness and  vanity  of  every  thing  else. 

I  heard,  some  time  since,  that  you  were  on  =flie  point  of  quii- 
4ing  jrour  regiment.  Whether  this  report  arose  from  tlie  infor- 
mation which,  as  you  mention  in  your  letter,  you  had  received 
from  the  commanding  officer,  but  which  you  did  not  think  of  snf- 
iicient  authority  to  djt^termineyou  j  or  whether  you  bave  received 


316  TO  J.  S4HHf«,  Esq.  [Let.  10. 

a  farther  iDtimatioii,  I  know  not.  Wherever  this  may  find  you,  I 
hope  it  will  find  you  just  where,  and  just  as  the  Lord  would  have 
yon  to  be;  casting  all  your  care  on  him,  and  having  nothing 
much  at  heart  but  to  know  his  will,  and  cheerfully  to  comply 
with  it.  This  is  a  happy  frame ;  for  they  that  thns  trust  in  the 
Lord,  shall  never  be  moved  :  they  shall  not  be  afraid  of  evil  ti- 
dings :  he  will  guide  them  by  his  eye,  direct  all  their  paths,  and 
give  them  his  testimony  in  their  consciences  that  their  ways  arc 
acceptable  in  his  sight. 

I  am,  &£u 


LETTER  X. 

May  20,  1769. 
My  Dear  Sir, 

I  AM  more  sorry  than  surprised  that  you  are  constrained  to 
leave  the  army.  I  was  apprehensive  from  the  .first,  that,  sooner 
or  later,  this  would  be  the  case.  However,  as  I  know  you  have 
acted  with  a  simple  view  to  the  glory  of  Cod  and  the  good  of 
souls,  I  trust  he  will  give  you  the  reward  of  those  that  suffer  for 
righteousness^  sake.  May  he  now  make  you  a  blessing  wherever 
he  shall  be  pleased  to  fix  or  send  you,  and  give  you  many  seals 
to  your  labours,  that  you,  and  all  about  you  may  rejoice  in  your 
present  situation.  And  as  you  are  not  now  under  either  military 
or  ecclesiastical  restraints,  I  doubt  not  but  you  will  gladly  spend 
and  be  spent  for  his  sake.  The  campaign  is  short ;  the  victory 
already  secured;  we  have  but  a  few  skirmishes  to  pass  through; 
and  then  he  who  has  promised  to  make  us  more  than  conquerors, 
will  put  a  crown  of  eternal  life  upon  our  heads. 

We  were  truly  concerned  to  hear  of  Mrs.  S****'s  illness,  but 
hope  your  next  will  inform  us  of  a  happy  recovery.  I  know  how 
to  sympathize  with  yon  in  this  article.  When  we  have  had  such 
views  of  the  world,  that  we  are  in  a  measnre  weaned  from  all  con- 
nexions but  one  ;  when  we  may  have  (if  I  may  so  speak)  but  one 
gourd  in  which  we  rejoice,  how  do  our  spirits  flutter  when 
we  think  a  worm  is  touching  its  root !  I  have  been  a  griev- 
ous idolater,  ami  have  loved  to  a  sinful  excess ;  yet,  through 
marvellous  mercy,  we  are  both  spared  to  this  day.  But  how  oft- 
en has  the.  Lord  punished  us  in  each  other ;  what  anxiety  and 
distress  have  I  at  times  endured  for  want  of  faith  to  trust  my  dear- 
est concerns  in  his  band  who  does  all  things  well ;  and  for  want 
of  that  moderation,  with  respect  to  all  things  below  the  skies, 
which  becomes  those  who  ave  called  with  the  high  and  holy  call- 


Let.  11.].  TO  J.  S»*^,  ESQ.  317 

ing  of  the  Gospel.  Such  is  the  effect  of  our  depravity,  that  we 
are  almost  sure  either  to  undervalue  or  overvalue  the  blessings  we 
enjoy.  But  the  Lord  is  good ;  he  knows  our  frame,  pities  our 
weakness,  and,  when  he  corrects,  it  is  with  the  affection  of  a  fa- 
ther. 1  hope  he  will  long  spare  you  to  be  comforts  and  helpmeets 
to  each  other  :  yet  knowmg  how  happily  you  are  united,  I  cannot 
help,  when  1  recollect  how  I  have  smarted,  giving  you  a  gentle 
admonition.  Beware  of  idolatry.  He,  who  in  mercy  brought 
you  together,  will  not  needle^ly  grieve  you.  He  loves  you  both, 
unspeakably  better  than  you  love  each  other,  and  therefore  you 
may  safely  commit  health  and  life,  body  and  soul,  into  his  keep- 
ing. Pray  for  me  that  I  may  myself  learn  the  lesson  I  would  pre- 
scribe to  you  ]  for  though  it  is  easy  to  talk  and  write  while  all 
things  are  smooth,  yet  when  the  trial  has  returned,  and  I  have 
been  brought  to  a  pinch,  I  have  still  found  that  I  bad  yet  much  to 
learn,  and  that  when  judgment  is  tolerably  clear,  the  actual 
experience  and  feeling  of  the  heart  may  be  sadly  mixed  and  dis- 
turbed. 

As  to  your  complaints,  I  might  transcribe  them,  and  send  them 
back  in  my  name.  I  seem  to  have  all  the  causes  of  grief  and 
shame  that  are  common  to  others  ;  and  not  a  few,  that  J  am  readv 
to  think  peculiar  to  myself.  But,  through  mercy,  I  can  also  fol- 
low you  in  what  you  say  of  the  all-suflScicncy  of  Jesus.  His 
blood,  righteousness,  intercession,  and  unchangeable  love,  keep 
me  from  giving  way  to  the  conclusions  which  Satan  and  unbelief 
would  sometimes  force  upon  me.  It  is  he  who  must  do  all  for  me^ 
by  me,  and  in  me.  I  long  to  live  more  above  thfe  influence  of  a 
legal  spirit  and  an  unbelieving  heart.  But,  indeed,  I  groan,  being 
burdened.  I  have  no  reason  to  complain  of  a  want  of  liberty  in 
public  ;  but  I  wish  I  could  be  more  concerned  for  success,  and 
more  affected  to  see  poor  sinners  hardening  under  the  sound  of  the 
Gospel.  I  am  afraid  that  if  1  am  enabled  to  fill  up  my  hour,  and 
to  come  off  with  tolerable  acceptance,  I  am  too  easily  satisfied. 
Indeed,  this  is  a  mercy  which  demands  my  thankfulness  ;  but  the 
great  concern  should  be,  that  neither  my  preaching  nor  their  hear- 
ing may  be  in  vain.    However,  the  Loixl  grant  me  to  be  faithful ! 

1  am  yours,  kc. 


LETTER  XL 

January  19,  1773. 
My  Dear  Friexd, 

The  evils  of  whith  we  mutually  complain,  are  the  effects  of 
a  fallen'  nature  ;  and  though  we  feel  them,  if  the  Lord  gives  us 


318  TO  J.  S——J  E8«.  {Let.  1 1 . 

grace  to  be  bumbled  for  them,  if  they  make  us  more  v3e  in  our 
own  eyes,  and  make  Jesus  more  precious  to  our  hearts,  they  shall 
not  hurt'  us,  but  rather,  we  may  rank  them  among  the  all  things 
that  shall  work  for  our  ^ood.  All  our  complaints  amount  but  to 
this,  that  we  are  very  sick  ;  and  if  we  did  not  find  ourselves  to  be 
so,  we  should  not  duly  prize  the  infallible  Physician.  Our  per- 
verseness  and  frowardness  illustrate  his  compassion  and  tender- 
ness -,  and  what,  by  mournful  experience,  we  learn  of  the  deceitful- 
ness  of  our  own  hearts,  qualifies  us  the  better  to  speak  to  the  case  of 
others,  and  to  ofier  a  word  of  warning,  exhortation,  and  consola- 
tion  to  his  people*  There  is  no  school  but  this,  in  which  we  can 
acquire  the  tongue  of  the  learned,  to  speak  a  word  in  season  to 
them  that  are  weary,  or  to  be  preserved  from  the  pride,  vanity, 
and  self-righteousness  which  would  otherwise  defile  all  our  best 
services i  It  is  better  of  the  two,  that  we  should  have  cause  of 
being  covered  with  shame  and  confiision  of  face  before  the  Lord, 
than,  for  want  of  a  due  sense  of  the  evils  within  us,  be  suffered  to 
grow  wise  and  good  in  our  own  conceits,  as  we  certainly  should 
when  the  Lord  is  pleased  to  give  us  some  liberty  and  success  in 
our  public  work,  unless  we  were  ballasted  witn  the  mortifying 
•conviction  of  what  we  are  in  ourselves.  Yet  I  hope  he  will  ena- 
ble us  to  watch  and  pray  against  any  actual  backslidings  of  heart, 
and  that  the  remembrance  of  what  we  have  already,  sufitered  in  this 
respect,  may  suffice  to  remind  us  that  we  are  nothing,  have  no- 
thing, and  can  do  nothing,  but  by  his  power  working  in  us.  If 
he  is  pleased  to  keep  our  eye  and  our  heart  simply  dependant 
iupon  him,  his  good  word  provides  us  with  ample  encouragement 
^against  the  remnants  of  indwelling  sin,  which  will  cleave  to  us 
^ile  we  are  in  the  body.  We  are  complete  in  him.  Our  right- 
eousness is  in  heaven.  We  have  an  advocate  with  the  Father. 
We  are  not  under  the  law,  but  under  grace.  In  a  little  while  all 
sins,  temptations, clouds,  and  veils,  shall  be  done  away  forever. 

I  find  that  many  of  my  complaints  arise  more  from  the  spirit  of 
'self,  than  I  was  fonnerly  aware  of.  Self,  as  well  as  Satan,  can 
transform  itself  into  an  angel  of  light.  To  mourn  over  sin  is  right ; 
but  I  do  not  always  rightly  mourn  over  it.  Too  often  a  part  of 
my  grief  has  been,  a  weariness  of  being  so  entirely  dependent 
upon  Jesus,  of  being  continually  indebted  to  him  for  fresh  and 
multiplied  forgiveness.  I  could  have  liked  better  to  have  some 
stock,  ability,  and  power  of  my  own,  that  I  might  do  A  litde  with- 
out him  ;  that  I  might  sometimes  come  before  him  as  a  saint,  as  a 
servant  that  has  done  his  duty,  and  not  perpetually  as  a  poor, 
worthless  sinner.  O  that  I  could  be  content  with  what  is,  and 
must  be,  my  proper  character ;  that  1  could  live  more  simply  upon 
the  freeness  and  fulness  of  his  grace  ! 


LcU  11.]  to  J.  S****,  ESQ.  31* 

There  is  no  sin  more  to  be  dreaded  than  the  great  sin  of  thinking  We 
can  do  a  moment  without  a  fresh  application  of  the  blood  of  sprink- 
ling to  our  consciences,  and  a  renewed  communication  of  his  Spirit 
to  our  hearts.  This  life  of  &ith  is  the  life  of  Christ  in  the  heart.. 
"  Not  I,"  says  the  apostle,  "  but  Christ  liveth  in  me."  Hi» 
strength  is  made  perfect  in  my  weakness.  I  am  nothing.  He  is 
all.  This  is  foolishness  to  the  world  ;  but  faith  sees  a  glory  in  it« 
This  way  is  best  for  our  safety,  and  most  for  his  honour.  And 
the  more  simply  we  can  reduce  all  our  efforts  to  this  one  pointy, 
"  Looking  unto  Jesus,"  the  more  peace,  fervour,  and  liveliness,, 
we  shall  find  in  our  hearts,  and  the  more  success  we  shall  feel  ia 
striving  against  sin  in  all  its  branches. 

J  am  yours,  &c^ 


EIGHT  LETTERS 


TO 


Dear  Sir, 


LETTER  L 

July  30,  176Y. 


Your  letter  ^avc  me  much  pleasure,  and  increases  my  desire 
(if  it  be  the  Lord's  will)  of  having  you  so  near  us.  As  1  hope  it 
will  not  be  long  before  1  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,  I  shall 
bf  the  less  solicitous  if  my  frequent  engagements  should  constrain 
nic  to  close  before  my  paper  is  filled.  I  can  only  advise  you  to 
resist,  to  the  utmost,  every  dark  and  discouraging  suggestion. 
The  Lord  has  done  great  things  for  you,  and  wonderfully  appear- 
ed in  your  behalf  already  ;  take  encouragement  from  hence  to 
hope  that  he  will  not  forsake  the  work  of  his  own  hands  ;  Judges, 
xiii.  23.  There  is  much  weight  in  the  apostle's  argument  in  Rom. 
V.  10.  Surely  he  who  showed  us  mercy  before  we  asked  it,  will 
not  withhold  it  now  he  has  taught  us  how  to  plead  for  it  agreeably 
to  his  own  will.  Though  sin  has  abounded  in  us,  grace  has  super- 
/abounded  in  him  ;  though  our  enemies  are  many  and  mighty,  Jesus 
is  above  them  all ;  though  he  may  hide  himself  from  us,  at  times, 
for  a  moment,  he  has  given  us  a  warrant  to  trust  in  him,  even  while 
we  walk  in  darkness,  and  has  promised  to  return  and  gather  us 
with  everlasting  mercies. 

The  Christian  calling,  like  many  others,  is  easy  and  clear  in 
theory,  but  not  without  much  care  and  diflSculty  to  be  reduced  to 
practice.  Things  appear  quite  otherwise,  when  felt  experimen- 
tally, to  what  they  do  when  only  read  in  a  book.  Many  learn  the 
art  of  navigation  (as  it  is  called)  by  the  fire  side  at  home,  but  ^vbcn 
they  come  to  sea,  with  their  heads  full  of  rules,  and  without  expe- 
rience, they  find  that  the  art  is  only  to  be  thoroughly  learnt  upon 
the  spot.  So,  to  renounce  self,  to  live  upon  Jesus,  to  walk  with 
God,  to  overcome  the  world,  to  hope  against  hope,  to  trust  the 
Lord  when  we  cannot  trace  him,  and  to  know  that  our  duty  and 
privilege  consist  in  these  things,  may  be  readily  acknowledged,  or 

Juickly  learned ;  but,  upon  repeated  trial,  we  find  that  saying  and 
oing  are  two  things.     We  think,  at  setting  out,  that  we  sit  down, 
5fnd  count  the  cost  j^bu*  alas !  our  views  are  so  superficial  at  first^ 


Let  2,]  TO  •*•♦.  321 

that  we  have  occasion  to  correct  our  estimate  daily*  For  every 
day  shows  us  some  new  thing  in  the  heart,  or  some  new  turn  in  the 
management  of  the  war  against  us,  which  we  were  not  aware  of ; 
and  upon  these  accounts,  discouragements  may  arise  so  high,  as 
to  bring  us  (I  speak  for  myself)  to  the  very  point  of  throwing  down 
our  arms,  and  making  either  a  tame  surrender,  or  a  shameful 
flight.  Thus  it  would  be  with  us  at  last,  if  the  Lord  of  hosts  were 
not  on  our  side.  But  though  our  enemies  thrust  sore  at  us,  that 
we  might  fall,  he  has  been  our  stay.  And  if  he  is  the  captain  of 
our  salvation ;  if  his  eye  is  upon  us,  his  arm  stretched  out  around 
us,  and  his  ear  open  to  our  cry,  and  if  he  has  engaged  to  teach 
our  hands  to  war  and  our  fingers  to  fight,  and  to  cover  our  head^ 
in  the  day  of  battle,  then  we  need  not  fear,  though  a  host  rise  up 
against  us  ;  but,  lifting  up  our  banner  in  his  name,  let  us  go  forth 
conquering  and  to  conquer.     Rom.  xvi.  20.        * 

We  hope  we  shall  all  be  better  acauainted  soon.  We  please 
ourselves  with  agreeable  prospects  and  proposals  ;  but  the  deter- 
mination is  with  the  Lord.  We  may  rejoice  that  it  is  5  he  sees 
all  things  in  their  dependencies  and  connexions,  which  we  see  nut, 
and  therefore  he  often  thwarts  our  wishes  for  our  good  ;  but  if  we 
are  not  mistaken,  if  any  measute  we  have  in  view  would,  upon  the 
whole,  promote  our  comfort  or  his  glory,  he  will  surely  bring  it  to 
pass  in  answer  to  prayer,  how  improbable  soever  it  might  appear ; 
for  he  delights  in  the  satisfaction  and  prosperity  of  his  people, 
and  without  a  need^^e  they  shall  never  be  in  heaviness.  Let  us 
strive  and  pray  for  a  habitual  resignation  to  his  will ;  for  he  does 
all  things  well.  It  is  never  ill  with  us  but  when  our  evil  hearts 
doubt  or  forget  this  plainest  of  truths. 

I  beg  an  interest  in  your  prayers,  and  that  you  will  believe  me 
to  be, 
I  Dear  Sir,  your  affectionate  servant. 


LETTER  n. 

February  22,  1778. 
Mv  VERY  Dear  Friend,. 

You  will  believe  that  we  were  all  glad  to  find  that  the  Lord 
had  given  you  a  good  journey,  and  that  he  is  pleased  to  support 
and  comfort  you  with  his  presence  ;  and  that  we  all  sympatnized 
with  you  in  your  present  trial,  and  are  greatly  interested  in  your 
brother's  illness.  Prayer  is  made  both  for  him  and  you  amongst 
us,  publicly,  and  from  house  to  house.  And  as  you  know  we  have 
bad  repeated  cause  to  say,  He  is  a  "God  that  heareth.  prayer^  we 

Vol,  IV.  41 


5^  TO  •***.  [Let-  «* 

hope  that  our  prayers  in  this  behalf  likewise  will  open  a  door  (or 
praise. 

And  now  may  the  Lord  direct  my  pen,  that  I  may  send  you 
what  Mr.  Philip  Henry  calls  "  A  word  upon  the  wheels  ;"  a  word 
in  season  for  your  refreshment  and  encouragement.  I  rejoice  and 
I  mourn  with  you.  The  little  acquaintance  1  have  had  with  your 
brother  (independent  of  his  relation  to  you)  has  ^iven  him  a  place 
in  my  heart  and  esteem  ;  and  I  can  form  some  judgment  of  what 
you  must  feel  at  the  apprehension  of  losing  so  near  and  dear  a 
friend.  But  though  he  is  brought  very  low,  and  physicians  can 
afford  little  assistance,  ^'  to  God  the  Lord  belong  the  issues  from 
death*^'  He  can  speak  a  returning  word  at  the  last  extremity  ; 
and  what  he  can  do  he  certainly  will,  if  it  is  best  upon  the  whole. 
But  if  he  has  otherwise  determined,  he  can  enable  you  to  resign 
Um,  and  can  answer  your  desires  in  what  is  of  still  greater  impor- 
tance than  prolonging  the  natural  life.  Considering  how  much 
his  best  interest  is  laid  upon  your  heart,  the  pleasure  he  expressed 
at  your  arrival,  his  willingness  to  hear  your  prayers  for  him,  and 
the  liberty  you  find  to  improve  every  opportunity  of  speaking  I 
am  willing  to  hope  that  you  will  be  made  a  messenger  of  lisht  and 
peace  to  his  soul.  The  Lord's  hand  is  not  shortened  that  he  can- 
not save.  He  can  do  great  things  in  a  small  time,  as  you  know 
from  your  own  experience.  In  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye,  he  can  command  light  to  shine  out  of  darkness.  If  he  speaks, 
it  is  done.  Vour  brother's  amiable  character  and  regular  deport- 
ment would  undoubtedly  be  to  his  advantage,  if  he  were  to  stand 
before  a  human  judge  ;  but  we  know  that  we  have  to  do  with  a 
God  who  searches  the  heart,  and  to  the  demands  of  whose  holy, 
inflexible  law,  the  whole  world  must  plead  guilty,  and  cast  them- 
selves entirely  upon  his  mercy  in  Christ,  or  be  confounded.  This 
we  cannot  make  one  another  understand,  but  the  Lord  can  con-  • 
vince  of  it  in  an  instant ;  and  then  how  plain,  how  pleasing,  how 
welcome,  is  the  Gospel  method  of  salvation  bv  free  grace  in  the 
blood  of  Jesus  !  One  glimpse  of  the  worth  of  the  soul,  the  evil  of 
sin,  and  the  importance  of  eternity,  will  effect  that  which  hath  been 
in  vain  attempted  by  repeated  arguments.  I  hope  the  Lord  will 
be  with  your  neart  and  mouth,  and  that  he  will  afford  you  the  moU 
lia  iempora  fandi !  and  direct  your  words  to  the  heart.  Perhaps 
BOW  you  may  be  heard  when  you  touch  upon  your  own  most  sin- 
gular case,  and  declare  the  manner  and  the  effects  of  the  Lord's 
wonderful  dealing  with  yourself,  which,  as  it  cannot  be  gainsaid, 
so  neither  can  it  be  accounted  for  upon  any  other  principles  than 
those  of  the  Scripture,  respecting  the  power,  grace,  and  all-suffi- 
ciency of  Jesus  to  save  to  the  uttermost. 

You  may  perceive  I  would  willingly  help  you  if  I  could,  though 
I  know  the  attempt  is  needless,  for  the  Lord  is  with  you  ;  and 
though  I  feel  my  own  poverty  in  the  endeavour,  accept  it,  how- 


Let  3.]  T6—^.  sn 

ever,  as  a  tdcen  of  my  affection,  and  as  a  proof  that  my  Keart  it 
"warmly  engaged  with  yours  in  your  present  concern. 

1  was  sorry  to  be  prevented  accompanying  you  to  W  ■  ■  *  ■» 
but  I  found  afterwards  it  was  right ;  you  were  better  engaged,  and 
I  should  but  have  interrupted  you.  I  was  with  you,  however,  in 
spirit,  as  I  returned  alone  in  the  chaise,  which  were  two  of  the 
most  pleasant  hours  I  have  known  for  some  time.  I  preached  that 
evening  at  Weston,  from  Deut.  xzxii.  9 — 13.  a  passage  which  ex- 
hibits the  history  of  a  believer  in  miniature — an  Iliad  in  a  nut- 
flftelK  The  night  was  stormy^  so  that  we  had  but  few  people* 
Two  persons  who  were  well  the  day  before  you  left  us,  are  since 
dead,  one  of  them  buried  ;  a  poor  profane  creature  suddenly  cut 
off ;  the  other  lived  at  Emberton,  but  spent  mast  of  his  time  at 
Olney,  a  sort  of  gentleman,  young,  jovial,  jesting^  and  thougbtlesa» 
He  was  liaken  ill  on  Saturday,  and  died  on  Mondav  evening.  O ! 
my  friend,  what  do  we  owe  to  the  grace  of  God,  that  we  were  not 
cut  off  in  the  days  of  ignorance,  as  so  many  have  been  !  Blessed 
be  God  for  Jesus  Christ. 

Believe  me  to  be 

Your  most  affectionate  and  obliged* 


LETTER  III. 

March  8,  1776. 
Mt  Dear  Sir, 

Whilr  it  is  the  Lord's  pleasure  we  should  be  separated,  1 
would  be  thankful  for  the  convenience  of  post,  by  which  we  caa 
exchange  a  few  thoughts,  and  let  ^ch  other  know  how  we  eo  on^ 
You  are  remembered  by  me,  not  only  jointly  with  the  pifeople,  but 
statedly  in  the  family,  and  in  secret ;  and,  mdeed,  there  are  not 
many  hours  in  the  day  when  I  do  not  feel  your  absence  and  the 
occasion  of  it.  I  find  your  brother  is  little  better  ;  but  it  is  an 
encouragement  to  know  that  he  is  no  worse.  His  disorder  is 
alarming  and  dangerous ;  but  though  physicians  and  friendtf 
can  do  little,  there  Ls  a  great  Physician  to  whom  alt  Qases 
are  eoually  «asy,  and  whose  compassion  is  equal  to  his  pow- 
er.  It  he  who  does  all  things  well* sees  it  best,  he  can  and  he 
will  restore  him  :  if  not,  he  is  able  to  give  him  such  a  view  <it 
what  is  beyond  the  grave,  as  would  make  him  desirous  to  depart; 
and  to  be  with  Christ ;  and  make  you  perfectly  willing  to  resi^ 
him.  This  is  my  prayer  : — that  he  may  find,  to  live  is  Ghrist| 
and  to  die,  gain  ;  for  this,  I  commend  him  to  Him  who  is  the  way, 
the  truth,  and  the  life,  who  has  overcoofie  death,  and  him  that  has 
the  power  of  death,  and  is  exalted  to  save  to  the  uttermost;  That 
word,  uttermost,  has  an  extensive  meaning ;  it  includes  a  conqueBl 


424  to  •♦•♦•  [Let  3; 

over  all  difficulties,  and  a  supply  of  all  that  is  iieces8arv«  How 
totally,  and  (if  possible)  bow  often  should  1  have  been  lost,  had 
not  Jesus  eosaeed  to  save  to  the  uttermost.  And  many  a  time 
I  think  I  should liave  given  up  all  hope,  but  for  those  two  textSf 
his  own  gracious  declaration,  '^  Him  that  cometh  unto  me,  I  will  in 
no  un$e  cast  out,^'  and  the  apostle^s  assertion  under  the  influence 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  that  '^  He  is  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost.'^ 
<<  In  no  wise,''  takes  in  all  possible  characters.  ^^  To  the  utter- 
most," reaches  to  all  possible  circumstances.  He  can  enlighten 
the  most  ignorant,  soften  the  most  obdurate,  succour  the  molt 
tempted,  comfort  the  most  distressed,  pardon  the  most  guilty.  O 
may  his  precious  name  be  engraven  upon  our  hearts,  and  sound 
sweeter  than  music  to  ou^r  ears  ;  for  he  has  loved  us,  and  washed 
us  from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood,  and  will  save  to  the  uttermost, 
in  defiance  of  all  our  sins,  fears,  and  enemies  ! 

Your  present  trials  are  great ;  but  Grod  is  faithful,  who  will  not 
suffer  you  to  be  overpowered ;  and  your  consolations,  at  some 
seasons,  are  great  likewise.  I  know  the  hour  of  conflict  is  sharp, 
but  the  victory  in  which  it  terminates  is  sweet.  Your  conjectures 
how  Dr.  ****  and  myself  would  behave  under  a  fiery  trial,  are 
highly  precarious,  and  seem  to  depend  upon  a  supposition,  which, 
though  it  may  steal  into  our  thoughts,  has  no  place  in  either  ot 
our  judgments,  namely,  that  some  believers  have  a  latent  habit- 
ual power  above  othei*s,  which  will  appear  in  exercise  when  it  is 
wanted.  Undoubtedly,  Dr.  ****,  if  left  to  himself  in  similar 
cases,  would  do  as  Job,  Jeremiah,  and  Jonah  have  done  before 
us.  The  grace  of  the  promise  is,  and  shall  be,  sufficient  for  our  ^ 
support ;  but  while  you  are  borne  up  by  a  power  above  your ' 
own,  it  is  ri^ht  and  fit  that  you  should  feel  your  own  weakness. 
It  must,  and  it  will  be  so,  with,  all  to  whom  the  Lord  hath  given 
that  frame^of  spirit  in  which  he  delights.  As  to  myself,  my  very 
heart  sinks  at  the  apprehension  of  sharp  trials  ;  the  Lord  has  long 
dealt  with  a  marvellous  accommodation  to  my  weakness  in  this 
respect ;  what  supports  me  when  I  look  forward  to  them  is,  a  per- 
suasion of  his  nearness,  faithfulness,  and  all  sufficiency ;  but  1 
know  there  is  a  great  difference  between  viewing  the  battle  at  a 
distance  and  being  actually  engaged  in  it :  this  f  find,  that  in  my 
present  calm  and  easy  situation  I  have  not  a  grain  of  strength  to 
spare.  And  when  I  think  of  the  questions,  Jer.  xii.  5.  I  can  only 
say.  Be  thou  nay  strong  tower,  whereunto  I  may  continually  resort^r 
In  a  word,  trials  would  not  deserve  the  name,  nor  could  they  an- 
swer the  ends  for  which  they  are  sent,  if  we  did  not  feel  them ; 
they  are  not,  they  cannot,  be  joyous  while  present,  but  grievous  ; 
but,  in  the  end,  they  shall  surely  yield  the  peaceable  fruits  of 
righteousness.  The  God  whom  you  serve  is  able  to  support  and 
deliver  you,  and  I  trust  you  shall  have  cause  to  praise  him  for  this 


Let.  4.]  TO«H«».  '     3^ 

also,  as  you  know  you  have  for  those  through  which  he  has  alrea- 
dy brought  you,  2  Cor.  i.  3 — 11.    ' 

WiUiam  iC****  is  one  of  those  who  have  been  lately  visited  with 
the  putrid  fever  and  sore  throat.  He  had  been  for  some  time 
(longer  than  I  knew  of)  under  a  concern  about  his  soul.  His  ill- 
ness brought  him  to  the  brink  of  the  graive  ;  but  the  Lord  has 
been  gracious  to  him,  not  only  in  sparing  nis  life,  but  iA  filling  him 
with  peace  and  consolation  to  a  degree  he  is  not  able  to  express. 
He  now  rejoices  with  the  joy  of  an  unexperienced  soldier,  who  is 
little  aware  of  what  he  may  meet  with  in  the  course  of  the  war, 
and  seems  hardly  to  understand  us,  when  we  bid  him  expect 
changes  ;  for  his  mountain  stands  so  strong,  he  thinks  he  shall  not 
be  moved.  Thus  it  is  ;  nothing  but  experience  can  teach  us  the 
lesson,  which  in  words  is  so  plainlv  set  before  us,  that  through. 
many  tribulations  we  must  enter  tne  kingdom.  But  the  Lord 
knows  and  pities  our  weakness,  and  shows  us  the  nature  of  our 
falling  by  degrees,  as  we  are  able  to  bear  it.  ^ 

Believe  me  most  cordially  yours. 


LETTER  IV. 

My  D£ar  Sir, 

Since  the  occasion  of  our  intercourse  with  (5****,  w'e.  listen 
for  the  post  with  anxiety  ;  the  accounts  we  received  yesterday, 

S;ive  me  a  very  lively  idea  of  your  situation,  while  you  are  expec- 
Ing  so  critical  and  dangerous  an  hour  as  thjat  which  you  have 
in  view.  1  can,  and  I  do  feel  for  you,  yet  I  know  you  are  and 
shall  be  supported.  Prayer  is  made,  without  ceasing,  amongst 
us,  for  you  and  your  brother.  And  we  know  and  belifeve  that  tne 
Lord,  on  whom  we  call,  is  rich  in  mercy,  and  mighty  to  save.  We 
see  many  amongst  us  who  have  been  restored  from  the  gates  of 
the  grave  in  answer  to  prayer,  when  the  healing  arts  of  medicine 
bad  proved  utterly  inenectual.  This  encourages  us  to  hope  that 
our  prayers  shall  terminate  in  praises  to  the  Lord,  to  whom  oelong 
the  issues  from  death.  In  the  mean  time,  I  should  be  glad  to  drop 
a  word  that  mi^ht  afford  you  some  consolation  in  your  present 
trial.  I  have  lUst  arisen  from  my  knees,  to  take  the  pen  in  hand  : 
may  the  Loi-d  be  with  my  heart  in  writing,  and  with  yours  in  read,- 
ing-^at  may  ooeur  to  me. 

I  drank  tea  last  night  with  Mr.  ****.  I  had  sent  him  my  booll 
9l  few  days  before,  and  I  found  he  had  read  it  about  half  through^ 
I  expected  he  would  say  something  about  it,  and  he  did.  Though 
he  seemed  to  perceive  and  approve  the  main  design,  and  to  be 
pleas^  with  what  he  had  rea%  yet  I  suppose  many  things  were 


326  TO  *»»,  [Let.  4.. 

not  much  to  his  purpose*  What  he  chiefly  fixed  on  was  the  ae- 
cond  chapter,  and  he  told  me  the  description  1  had  givea  of  the 
Gospel  was  exactly  suited  to  the  state,  the  wants,  and  desires  of 
his  mind  ;  that  be  had  read  it  twice  over,  and  found  much  comfoit 
from  it.  This  gave  me  pleasure.  He  is,  as  you  know,  a  man 
much  exercised  with  a  sense  of  the  evils  of  his  heart,  and  there- 
fore I  account  him  a  competent  judge^  I  hope  I  would  rather  be 
instrumental  to  the  peace  and  coi>^oIation  of  one  such  person, 
than  honoured  with  the  applause  of  thousands  who  live  at  their 
ease- 
Since  I  left  him,  I  have  been  led  into  some  reflections,  on  the 
admirable  suitableness  of  the  Gospel-way  of  salvation  by  Jesus 
Christ,  to  all  the  possible  varieties  of  a  sinner's  condition.  When 
once  he  knows  himself,  and  is  acquainted  with  the  holiness,  jus- 
tice, and  majesty  of  the  God  with  whom  he  has  to  do,  no  other 
expedient  can  ever  satisfy  him,  or  give  peace  to  his  conscience. 
And  when  once  he  knows  Christ  as  the  way,  and  receives  &ith  in 
his  name,  he  is  provided  with  an  answer  to  every  discouragement 
and  fear  that  can  arise.  And  here  persons  of  every  age,  country^ 
character,  situation,  and  capacity,  unite  and  agree.  Their  views 
of  themselves,  of  the  Saviour,  of  the  sround  of  their  acceptance 
with  God,  and  of  the  communion  wi£  God  which  the  scripture 
speaks  of,  are  so  similar,  that  many  think  they  learn  them  oneof 
another,  which  is,  indeed,  sometimes  true,  with  respect  to  the  in- 
fluence of  means,  (God  having  appointed  to  difiuse  tne  knowledge 
of  salvation  by  his  blessing  on  preaching,  &:c.)  yet  every  one  of 
them  is  taught  of  God,  and  receives  personally  for  himself  an  inimi- 
table conviction,  which,  as  it  cannot  be  easily  described  so  as  to 
be  understood  by  those  who  have  not  experienced  it,  (for  which 
reason  it  is  compared  in  the  scripture  to  tasting,  Psal.  xxxiv.  8« 
and  1  Pet*  ii.  3.)  so  all  attempts  to  gainsay  it,  are  hke  attempting* 
(as  we  commonly  say)  to  persuade  us  out  of  our  senses*  I  re- 
member that  three  or  four  years  ago  I  mentioned  some  part  of  the 
Gospel  truth  to  a  gentleman  who  called  on  me  here,  and  he  an- 
swered, ^'  If  it  is  a  truth,  you  are  indebted  for  it  to  Calvin.''  As 
well  might  he  have  said,  because  Calvin  had  seen  the  sun,  and  has 
mentioned  it  in  his  writings,  we  build  our  knowledge  of  its  light 
and  influence  upon  his  testimony.  These  are  acknowledged 
throughout  the  world,  whenever  there  is  an  eve  to  behold  them. 
Here  the  courtier  and  the  clown,  the  philosopher  and  the  savage, 
are  upon  a  level.  And  Mr.  (>ccam,  the  Indian,  in  describing  to 
me  the  state  of  his  heart  when  he  was  a  blind  idolater,  gave  me. 
in  general,  a  striking  pcture  of  what  my  own  was,  in  the  early 
part  of  my  life ;  and  his  subsequent  views  of  the  Gospel  corres- 
ponded with  mine  as  face  answers  to  face  in  a  glass,  though  I  dare 
say  when  he  received  them  he  had  never  heard  of  Calvin's  name. 


Let.  4.1,  TO  *»**.  S27 

I  am  sure  I  can  aay,  for  myself,  that  I  received  not  the  Gospef 
from  man.  The  litUe  instruction  I  had  received  in  my  youth,  I 
had  renounced ;  I  was  an  infidel  in  the  strictest  sense  of  the  word. 
When  it  pleased  God  to  give  me  a  concern  for  my  soul,  and  for 
.  some  years  afterwards,  I  was  upon  the  seas,  or  in  Africa,  at  a  dis- 
tance from  the  influence  of  books,  names,  and  parties.  In  this- 
space  the  Lord  taught  me,  by  the  New  Testament,  the  truths  upon 
which  my  soul  now  ventures  its  everlasting  concerns,  when  I  did 
not  know  there  was  a  person  upon  earth  who  had  the  same  views 
with  myself,  or  at  least  did  not  know,  where  to  find  such  a  person  ; 
perhaps,  1  may  i*ather  say,  I  took  it  for  granted  that  all  people 
who  were  religious,  were  of  my  mind,  and  .hardly  suspected  tnat 
any  who  professed  a  regard  to  the  Bible,  could  doubt  or  deny  what 
to  me  appeared  so  plain.  Your  case,  likewise,  has  been  pretty 
much  like  my  own.     How  different  were  your  views  when  you 

left ,  to  what  you  had  when  you  went  there,  and  how  little 

did  men  contribute  to  that  difference !  These  things  I  am  sure  of, 
that  the  proper  wages  of  sin  is  death ;  that  I  and  au  mankind  have 
sinned  against  the  great  God  ;  that  the  most  perfect  character  is 
unable  to  stand  the  trial  of  his  holy  law.  When  I  saw  things  in 
this  light,  I  saw  the  necessity  of  a  Mediatorr  And  in  the  account 
the  scripture  gave  me  of  Christ,  his  adorable  person,  his  offices, 
kis  matcniess  love,  humiliation,  obedience,  and  death,  I  saw  a  pro- 
vision answerable  to  my  need.  His  blood  is  declared  to  be  a  com*- 
plete  atonement  for  sin ;  his  righteousness,  a  plea  provided  for  the 
guilty  -,  his  power  and  compassion  are  both  infinite  ;  and  the  pro* 
mise  of  parclon,  peace,  and  eternal  }ife,  is  made  to  them  who  be- 
lieve in  nis  name.  He  himself  is  exalted  to  bestow  that  faith  to 
which  the  promises  belong,  and  he  will  give  it  to  all  who  ask. 
This  I  have  found  to  be  very  different  from  the  assent  we  give  to  a 
point  of  history.  It  changes  the  views,  dispositions,  desires,  and 
pursuits  of  the  mind  ;  produces  that  great  effect,  which  is  emphati- 
cally called,  being  bom  a^ain  ;  without  which  our  Lord  assures  us 
no  man  can  see  the  kingdom  of  God,  whatever  his  qualifications 
may  be  in  other  respects.  O,  my  friend,  let  us  praise  the  Lord 
who  has  enlightened  our  dark  understanding^,  subdued  that  natu* 
ral  enmity  we  felt  against  his  government  and  his  grace,  and  has 
given  us  a  hope  full  of  glory  !  Now  we  are  enabled  to  trust  in 
him  ;  now  we  find  a  measure  of  stability  in  the  midst  of  a  chang- 
ing world  ;  now  we  can  look  forward  to  death  and  iudgment  with 
composure,  knowing  whom  we  have  believed,  and;  that  we  have 
an  advocate  with  the  Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous. 

Having  little  news  to  communicate,  1  have  let  my  thoughts  run 
at  random  upon  the  subject  you  best  love.  As  Cicero  says  to 
Atticus,  Jld  avMum^  amid,  de  amicUidj  or  to  that  purpose  ;  so  the 
letters  from  me  to  yoii,  so  far  as  they  are  not  taken  up  with  neces- 


.838  TO****.  ifi-ct.  5. 

sary  occurrence^,  should  be  concerning  the  love  and  grace  of  our 
adorable  Redeemer.  O  !  to  think  where,  and  what  we  were  when 
he  showed  us  mercy  ;  what  great  things  he  has  done,  and  is  pre** 
paring  for  us,  and  that  he  so  loved  us  as  to  wash  us  from  our  sins 
in  his  own  blood !  These  are  themes  suited  to  warm  our  hearts,  to 
bear  us  up  under  all  our  troubles,  and  to  fill  us  with  joy  unspeak- 
able and  full  of  glory.  O  that  my  heart  might  take  fire  as  1  write ! 
Surely  I  am,  in  my  better  judgment,  persuaded  that  life  is  not 
worth  a  desire,  but' as  affording  opportunity  to  spread  the  savour 
of  his  name,  to  set  him  forth  in  my  ministry  for  the  comfort  of  his 
people  and  the  salvation  of  poor  sinners.  I  trust  you  pray  for 
me  that  I  may  be  faithful ;  that  I  may  give  myself  wholly  to 
his  service,' and,  by  continuing  in  it,  save  myself  and  those  that 
hear  me. 

I  am  inviolably  yours. 


LETTER  V. 

March  J  5,  1770. 
My  Dear  Friend, 

Though  I  have  hardly  time  to  write,  I  cannot  be  silent  upon 
this  occasion.  You  will  easily  judge  what  satisfaction  your  letters 
by  yesterday's  post  gave  us.  Blessed  be  God — the  God  who  an- 
swers prayer,  and  who  alone  does  marvellous  things.  I  rejoice 
with  you  ;  I  rejoice  with  your  brother.  Now  a  chief  point  in  our 
prayers  will  give  place  to  praises,  and  we  shall  have  tiie  sweetest 
encouragement  to  continue  praying  for  the  re-establishment  of  his 
health.  If  we  had  let  the  good  news  transpire,  how  quickly 
would  it  have  flown  over  the  town  !  But  we  have  thought  it  best 
to  keep  it  to  ourselves  a  few  days.  When  we  shall  meet  on  Tues- 
day evening,  I  purpose  to  impart  it  to  the  people  in  a  body,  by 
reading  your  letter ;  my  heart  jumps  at  representing  to  myself, 
how  they  will  look,  how  they  will  feel,  how  they  will  pray  and 
give  thanks,  when  thfey  hear  what  God  has  wrought !  I  am  willing 
to  hope  wc  shall  have  a  comfortable,  a  memorable  evening.  In 
the  mean  time  there  is  some  self-denial  in  keeping  the  secret — 
for  myself,  1  feel  it  at  my  tongues'  end  continually,  and  am  ready 
to  speak  of  it  to  every  one  I  see  ;  but  we  think,  upon  the  whole, 
it  will  do  better  to  come  in  a  lump  to  them. 

Yon  need  not  wonder  if,  upon  this  very  affecting  and  impor- 
tant occasion,  the  enemy  attempts  his  utmost  to  disturb  you.  He 
(ears  for  his  Kingdom,  which  has  already  received  many  severe 
shocks,  in  the  spread  the  Lord  has  lately  given  to  his  Gospel ; 
he  sees  a  new  instrument  rising  up,  (as  we  hope,)  to  deliver  souls 


f* 


Let  5.]  TO*w».  gj99 

ont  of  his  power ;  he  knows  how  nearly  yoo  are  concerned  in 
these  things,  and  therefore,  so  far  as  he  is  permitted,  will  cnt  you 
oat  trouble.  And  yon  may  be  assured  there  are  wise  reasons  for 
his  having  such  a  permission ;  but  all  your  conflicU  shall  lead 
to  consolation,  and  end  in  victory  :  and  at  last  you  shall  be  more 
than  a  conqueror.  Wolfe  conquered,  but  died  upon  the  field  of 
battle*  Hannibid  was  a  famous  and  frequent  conqueror,  yet  at 
length  was  vanquished  in  his  turn.  But  the  believer  shall  socout 
quer,  in  the  close  of  the  campaign,  that  he  shall  never  hear  the 
sound  of  war  any  more ;  so  conquer  in  time  as  to  triumph  to 
eternity.  This  we  owe  to  Jesus  ;  we  overcome  not  by  our  own 
might,  but  by  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  and  by  the  word  of  his 
testimony.  He  has  conquered  for  us,  and  goes  before  us,  and 
fights  in  us  by  his  Spirit ;  and  in  his  own  time  he  will  bruise  Sa- 
tan under  our  feet.  In  the  mean  while,  he  will  be  your  strength 
and  your  shield ;  your  song  and  your  salvation.  In  his  name 
you  may  lift  up  your  banner,  and  bid  defiance  to  Satan  and  all 
bis  hosts. 

Remember  me  afiectionately  to  your  brother.  1  can  truly  say, 
I  esteemed  him,  I  loved  him  before ;  my  regard  has  been  in- 
creased by  the  share  I  have  taken  in  his  concerns  during  his  ill- 
ness ;  but  how  much  more  is  he  dear  to  me,  since  I  know  that  we 
are  united  in  the  love  of  truth.  With  what  pleasure  shall  I  now 
receive  him  at  — !  now  the  restraints  we  were  mutually  un- 
der, for  fear  of  giving  each  other  pain,  are  removed.  I  think, 
when  the  Lord  permiu  us  all  to  meet  here  again  together,  we 
•hall  have  much  to  say  oo  the  subject  of  redeeming  love ;  much 
to  ascribe  to  the  wisdom,  power,  and  goodness  of  a  wonder-work- 
ing God,  who  causes  light  to  shine  out  of  darkness,  and  has  given 
us  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  his  glory  in  the  person  of  Jesus 
Christ.  What  an  amazing  change  in  our  state,  in  our  heart,  in 
our  views,  is  the  result  of  this  discovery !  Old  things  pass  away; 
all  things  become  n^w.  Then  we  see  how  unavoidably  we  must 
be  men  toandered  at  by  all  who  have  not  experienced  the  same 
things  ;  and  we  are  content  to  be  so  for  his  sake  who  has  loved 
us,  and  to  account  his  cross  our  glory. 
Believe  me  to  be,  my  dear  Sir, 

Most  affectionately  yours. 
In  the  nearest  and  strongest  bond  of  friendship. 

Vol.  IV.  42 


SSO  ,  TO  ♦***.  [Ut.  fr. 

LETTER  VI. 

Charles  Square,  April  29,  178(r. 
Mt  Dear  Friend, 

We  seldom  seiid  any  thing  to  a  frieud  with  a  more  interested 
and  selfish  view  than  a  franl; ;  for  we  expect  not  only  to  have  it  re- 
turned, but  that  what  we  send  empty  should  be  returned  full.  I  hope 
when  the  weather  will  not  allow  you  to  be  all  day  in  the  garden, 
you  are  preparing  a  cargo  for  my  frank ;  letters,  essays,  thoughts, 
bon  mots,  tales,  fables ;  in  a  word,  miscellanies  of  all  kinds,  in 
prose  or  verse,  whatever  bears  the  signature  of  your  hand,  or  of 
your  manner,  will  be  welcome ;  and  as  long  as  you  find  materi- 
als, I  will  endeavour  to  find  franks,  and  to  send  you  pepper-corns 
of  thanks  in  return,  as  often  as  I  can. 

The  recovery  of  my  arm  has  advanced  happily  without  inter- 
ruption. I  can  DOW  put  on  my  great  coat,  have  almost  done 
with  my  sling,  and  hope,  in  a  few  days  more,  to  be  released  from 
the  bandages.  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  my  best  physician  and 
friend,  my  present  and  all  sufficient  help  !  I  have  seen  no  rea- 
son yet  to  regret  my  fall,  nor  have  I  been  permitted  to  do  it ;  yet 
I  may  consider  it  as  a  chastisement,  though"  of  a  gentle  and  mer- 
ciful kind.  A  sinner  need  not  spend  much  time  in  searching  out 
the  cause  of  an  affliction ;  but  that  the  afflictions  of  such  a  sinner 
as  I  should  be  so  seldom,  so  moderate,  so  soon  removed,  depends 
upon  reasons  which  I  should  never  have  known  but  by  the  word 
of  Ood.  There  I  am  taught  to  spell  his  name,  ^  The  Lord,  the 
Lord  Ood,  long  suffering,  abundant  in  mercy,  forgiving  iniquity, 
transgression  and  sin ;"  and  thus  I  read  the  reason  why  I  am  not 
consumed. 

The  spring,  long-retarded,  begins  to  force  its  way,  and  to  make 
its  appearance  in  the  trees  which  surround  our  square.  The  close 
behind  our  garden  seems  as  green  as  your  meadows,  and  the  cows 
that  are  feeding  in  it  have  very  much  the  look  of  country  cows. 
St.  Luke's  church  affords  us  a  sort  of  substitute  for stee- 
ple. Islington  (by  tbfe  help  of  an  imagination  which  loves  to 
concur  in  putting  an  agreeable  deception  upon  itself)  passes  for 
;  and  the  New  River,  if  it  did  not  run  under  ground  here- 
abouts, would  soon  obtain  a  new  name,  and  be  called  the  Ouse* 
We  take  the  same  liberty  with  persons  as  with  places,  and  cannot 
walk  much  in  the  streets  without  meeting  a  somebody  that  recalls 
somebody  else  to  our  minds.  But  to  impose  upon  ourselves  so 
far  as  to  think  any  place  like  Orchard  Side  or  any  persons  like 
Mrs.  ****  or  Mr,  ****^  exceeds  our  present  attainment  in  the  art 


Let.  6.]  TO  •*•*.  SSI 

of  sobstiUitiOD.  In  other  respects,  oar  sitnation  is,  upon  the  whole, 
so  welly  that  I  may  apply  to  either  of  yoa — 

Excepto  quod  non  simul  esses,  cactera  laetus. 

Baty  indeed,  a  removal  from  two  sueh  dear  friends  is  a  disloca- 
tion, and  gives  roe  at  times  a  mental  feeling,  something  anaSa^ 
gous  to  what  my  body  felt  when  my  arm  was  forced  from  its 
socket.'  I  live  in  hopes  that  this  mental  dislocation  will  one  day 
be  happily  redaced  likewise,  and  that  we  shall  come  together 
again  as  bone  to  its  bone.  The  connexion  which  the  Lord  him<» 
self  formed  between  us,  was  undoubtedly  formed  for  eternity ; 
but  I  trust  we  shall  have  moi)ib  of  thQ'ilIeasure  and  comfort  of  it 
in  time.  And  that  I  shall  yet  hear  you  say,  ^^Come,  magnify  th# 
Lord  with  me,  and  let  ns  exalt  his  name  together,  for  he  hath 
turned  my  mourning  into  joy,  and  he  hath  taken  off  my  sackcloth 
and  girded  me  with  gladness." 

How  the  world  goes,  1  know  not ;  for  I  seldom  see  a  newspa- 
per for  a  fortnight  together ;  when  I  do,  I  weet  with  so  little  to 
please  me,  that  I  seem  rather  to  prefer  a  state  of  ignorance,  which 
gives  me  more  scope  for  hoping  for  the  best.  The  prevalence  of 
wickedness  and  insensibility,  however,  forces  itself  upon  my 
notice,  whether  I  will  or  no.  And  1  am  afraid,  in  the  conten- 
tions which  are  fomenting  and  spreading  throughout  the  king- 
dom, I  see  such  seeds  of  trouble  as  were  sown  in  the  early  part  of 
Charles  the  First's  reign,  and  which  quickly  produced  such  plen- 
tiful crops  of  confusion  and  misery.  Yea,  I  am  afraid  the  present 
times  are  worse ;  there  is  an  equal  degree  of  party  rage,  without 
any  portion  of  the  public  spirit  which  undoubtedly  influenced  ma- 
;iy  individuals  in  those  days.  I  see  but  few  Hydes  or  Falklands 
amongst  the  courtiers  ;  but  few  Haropdens  Pyms,  or  Blakes,  to 
dignify  the  opposition.  The  pretences  on  each  side  are  but  a  thin* 
veil,  through  which  it  is  easy  to  perceive  that  the  contest  is  chief- 
ly between  the  ins  and  the  outs^  and  that  while  some  plead  for  ar- 
bitrary power,  under  the  name  of  constitutional  prerogative ;  oth- 
ers, who  clamour  for  liberty,  mean  nothing;  better  by  the  word 
than  licentiousness.  So  that  if  my  calling  as  a  christian  would  • 
permit  me  to  take  an  active  part  in  this  uproar,  (which,  in  my 
view,  it  does  not,)  I  must  still  remain  neuter,  till  I  could  find  more 
men  of  principle  on  one  side  or  the  other  to  associate  with.  I 
most  be  content  to  look  on,  and  patiently  wait  the  issue,  and 
should  be  ready  to  sink  with  apprehension,  but  for  two  support* 
ing  considerations.  The  first,  tliat  the  Lord  reigns,  and  will 
surely  accomplish  his  own  wise  and  gracious  promises*  The 
second,  that  in  the  midst  of  all  tUs  confosioo^  he  is  manifisstty 


832  TO  •^•. .  [Let.  7. 

spreading  the  light  of  hiB  Gospel,  and  gathering  sinoers  into  bis 
fold.  While  he  maintains  and  multiplies  the  means  of  grace 
amongst  us,  and  increases  the  number  of  praying  souls  to  stand 
in  the  breach,  I  think  we  have  a  pledge  that  we  shall  not  be  given 
up,  that  our  motto  will  be  no  worse  than  *'  cast  down,  but  not  de- 
stroyed." There  is  a  third,  a  personal  ground  of  comfort.  He 
has  said,  it  shall  be  well  with  them  that  fear  God,  and  his  word  is 
Sore.  His  people  have  properly  nothing  to  lose,  have  nothing  to 
fear,  for  be  is  their  sun  and  shield,  and  exceeding  great  reward. 
His  power,  providence,  presence,  and  all-sufficiency,  will  lead 
them  safely,  and,  upon  the  whole,  comfortably  through  every  pos- 
sible change,  and  bring  them  Mrtheir  unchangeable  rest. 

Mrs.  ****  is  not  at  honi%  but  sh^  knows  what  I  am  about,  and 
abends  her  best  love.  She  has  very  tolerable  health.  1  was  ai 
first  afraid  the  hurry  and  anxiety  of  her  spirits,  on  account  of  my 
fall,  would  have  brought  a  return  of  all  her  nervous  complaints. 
I  felt  more  for  her  than  for  myself,  while  the  four  men  were  al- 
most displacing  my  bones  which  were  right,  in  order  to  put  that 
right  which  was  out  of  place.  But  while  1  was  in  that  attitude,  I 
may  say,  with  Nehemiah,  <^  So  1  prayed  unto  the  God  of  heav- 
en ;"  I  prayed  for  her,  and  the  Lord  heard  me*  She  was  at  first 
exceedingly  terrified,  and  felt  the  effects  of  the  shock  for  a  little 
time,  but  1  hope  they  are  quite  subsided. 
I  am,  dearest  Sir, 

Your  most  afiectionate  and  obliged. 


LETTER  VII. 

Charles  Square^  May  6, 1780. 
Mt  Deak  Sir, 

You  will  have  no  reason  to  apply  to  me,  Luke  vii.  32.  For 
when  you  pipe,  I  am  ready  to  dance ;  and  when^yon  mourn,  a 
cloud  comes  over  my  brow,  and  a  tear  stands  a  tiptoe  in  my  eye. 
^  observe  your  letters  usually  begin  and  end  in  the  allegro 
strain,  and  you  put  the  more  serious  part  in  the  middle :  as  this 
seems  the  fittest  place  for  it,  1  will  try  to  imitate  you,  though  it 
will  be  something,  if  either  my  beginning  or  my  close  should  en- 
title me  to  your  smile,  except  you  smile  at  the  presumption  of 
your  humble  imitator,  and  recollect  the  fable  of  the  frog,  who  tri- 
ed to  imitate  the  ox. 

On  Thursday  I  attended,  in  my  robes,  the  church-wardens  and 
several  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  parish.  We  had  large  nosegays 
in  our  hands,  and,  all  but  myself,  &vours  in  their  bats',  accompa* 


Let.  ^.]  TO  ****•  333 

Died  by  a  namber  of  little  boys  smartly  dressed,  and  carrying 
white  wands.  Thus  marshalled  and  accoutred^  we  paraded  the 
streets,  and  a  tall  mad  who  has  some  other  name,  but  is  best 
known  to  roe  by  that  of  the  organ-blower,  pointing  successively 
to  the  marks,  corners,  and  abutments  which  distinguished  ours 
from  the  circumjacent  parishes,  proclaimed  at  each  the  boundary 

of  the  parish  of  St. .    The  chorus,  consisting  of  a  number 

of  huzzas,  was  performed  by  the  youths,  who  likewise  beat  the 
marks  and  walls  with  their  wands.  This  ostentatious  service 
draws  abundance  of  eyes ;  ladies,  gentlemen,  porters,  and  cart- 
ers, all  stop,  and  tdrn,  and  stare.  After  the  procession,  and  dis- 
tributing ribbons  and  cakes  to  the  parishioners,  we  divided  into 
two  parties  for  dinner ;  all  passed  with  much  decorum  and  cour- 
tesy, and  nothinff  happened  that  made  me  sorry  1  was  among 
them.  This  little  parochial  farce  is  acted  annually  on  Ascen- 
sion-day. I  am  afraid  my  overture  is  very  dull,  but  if  you  could 
suppose  it  the  translation  of  a  fragment  dug  out  of  Herculaneum, 
giving  an  account  of  some  custom  that  obtained  (mutatis  mutan- 
dis) in  ancient  Rome,  then  both  the  ears  of  your  classical  atten- 
tion would  doubtless  be  nailed  to  the  subject. 

Do  not  wonder  that  I  prize  your  letters.  Besides  the  merit 
which  friendship  puts  on  them,  as  being  yours,  you  always  send 
me  something  I  should  value  from  a  stranger.  Some  thoughts  in 
your  last  I  shall  be  the  better  for,  if  it  be  not  my  own  fault.  How 
wonderful  is  that  tincture,  that  inexpressible  something,  which 
gives  your  j^entiroents,  when  you  speak  of  yourself,  so  gloomy  a 
cast,  while,  in  all  other  respects,  it  leaves  your  faculties  in  full 
bloom  and  vigour !  How  strange  that  your  judgment  should  be 
clouded  in  one  point  only,  and  that  a  point  so  obvious  and  stri- 
kingly clear  to  every  body  who  knows  you  1  How  strange  that 
a  person  who  considers  the  earth,  the  planets,  and  the  sun  itself 
as  mere  bawbles,  compared  with  the  friendship  and  favour  of 
God  their  Maker,  should  think  the  God  who  inspired  him  with 
such  an  idea,  could  ever  forsake  and  cast  off  the  soul  which  he 
has  taught  to  love  him !  How  strange  is  it,  I  say,  that  ^ou  should 
hold  tenaciously  both  parts  of  a  contradiction  !  Though  your 
comforts  have  been  so  long  suspended,  I  know  not  that  I  ever  saw 
you  for  a  single  day  since  your  calamity  came  upon  you,  in 
which  I  could  not  perceive  as  clear  and  satisfactory  evidence  that 
the  grace  of  God  was  with  you,  as  I  could  in  your  brighter  and 
happier  times.  In  the  midst  of  all  the  little  amusements,  which 
you  call  trifling,  and  which  I  would  be  very  thankful  you  can  at- 
tend to,  in  your  present  circumstances,  it  is  as  easy  to  see  who 
has  your  heart,  and  which  way  your  desires  tend,  as  to  see  your 
shadow  when  you  stand  in  the  sun* 


334  TO  •*•*.  [Let.  8. 


I  shall  enlarge  my  commission  for  filling  the  franks  and  par- 
cels which  I  hope  to  receive  from  you.  I  have  a  little  baCk  par- 
lour, which  bears  the  name  of  my  study.  It  is  at  present  much 
unfurnished,  and  I  must  beg  you  therefore  to  send  me  a  few  moun- 
tains and  valleys,  woods,  streams,  and  ducks,  to  ornament  the 
walls ;  in  return,  I  will  join  my  praises  to  Mrs.  **^*'s  and  your 
own,  which,  indeed,  considering  how  destitute  1  am  of  taste  and 
virtik,  will  be  but  like  putting  a  cypher  on  the  wrong  side  of  a  sig- 
nificant figure,  which  adds  a  round  0  to  the  line,  but  nothing  to 
the  sum.  But  let  the  great  boast  of  their  Raphaels  and  their 
Titians,  it  shall  sufiice  for  me  if  I  may  describe  on  the  pieces  id 
my  study,  ****iWfwrtV.  * 

My  bandage  is  taken  off,  and  my  arm  almost  in  statu  quo.    I 
wish  to  be  thankful  to  Him  who  maketh  sore,  and  biadeth  np, 
who  woundeth,  and  his  hands  make  whole. 
Accept  our  best  love,  and  believe  me  to  be, 

Most  aflectfonately  yours. 


LETTER  VIII. 

Charles  Square^  Hoxton^  June  3,  17S0. 
Mt  Dear  Friend, 

On  Monday  we  went  to  Greenwich,  and  returned  to-da^. 
time  enough  to  preach  my  monthly  preparation  sermon  in  the 
forenoon.  The  visit  was  as  pleasant  as  a  kind  reception  could 
make  it ;  but  there  is  a  something  necessary  to  make  one  *^  To- 
tus  teres  et  rotundus''  in  our  proposed  schemes  for  pleasure, 
which  it  is  not  in  the  creature's  power  to  supply.  However,  1 
had  much  to  be  thankful  for,  and  particularly  that  Mrs.  ****  was 
well  at  the  time.  Two  very  agreeable  hours  I  spent  solus  in  the 
park,  a  situation  which  I  think  is  hardly  to  be  equalled  upon  the 
earth.  Rural  prospects  equally  striking,  or  more  so^  may  be 
found  in  abundance  ;  but  the  embellishments  of  such  a  city,  at  a 
distance  so  convenient  to  the  eye,  and  of  such  a  river  with  the 
navigation,  are  local  advantages  peculiar  to  the  spot.  Were  I  to 
traverse  the  park  daily,  perhaps  when  familiarized  to  the  objects, 
the  effects  would  not  be  so  great.  But  I  believe  twenty  yi^rs  or 
more  have  passed  since  I  was  there,  and  therefore  all  appeared 
to  me  in  a  manner  new.  The  cloud  of  smoke  hanging  over  Lon- 
don, tq  which  every  house  contributed  iu  quota,  led  me  to  moc- 


Let  8.3  Tp  ••^-  335 

alise.  I  thoaght  it  an  emblem  of  the  accumulated  stock  of  mise- 
ry, arising  from  the  trials  and  afflictions  of  individuals  within  my 
view.  I  am  persuaded  a  detail  of  these,  were  our  minds  capable 
of  receiving  it,  would  have  the  effect  of  the  cave  of  Trophonius, 
and  give  such  a  solidity  to  our  features,  that  no  occasional  inci- 
dent, however  jocular,  would  move  our  laughter,  or  even  extort 
a  smile.  A  person  would  hazzard  his  reputation  for  humanity, 
who  was  disposed  to  be  merry  among  the  lunatics  in  Bethlehem, 
or  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of  agonizing  sufferers  in  Bartholo- 
mew's Hospital,  or  a  field  of  battle.  .And  what  is  the  world  at 
large,  but  a  more  extensive  and  diversified  scene  of  wretchedness, 
where  phrensy  and  despair,  anxiety,  pain,  want,  and  death,  have 
their  respective  wards  filled  with  patients  }  I  thought  it  likewise 
an  emblem  of  that  cloud  of  sin  which  is  continually  accending 
witii  a  mighty  cry  in  the  ears  of  the  Lord  of  hosts.  Sin  over- 
spreads the  earth  ;  but  in  London  the  number  and  impunity  of 
offenders,  joined  with  the  infidelity  and  dissipation  of  the  times, 
make  it  a  kind  of  hot-bed  or  nursery  for  wickedness.  Sin  is  studi- 
ed as  a  science,  and  there  aiy  professors  and  inventors  of  evil 
things,  in  a  variety  of  branches,  who  have  an  anhappy  address  in 
teaching  others  to  sin  with  an  edat  Could  we  have  knowledge 
of  the  monstrous  enormities  and  villaoies  which  are  committed  in  a 
single  day,  within  the  compass  of  the  prospect  I  had  from  Green- 
wich Park,  or  Bkckbeath,  it  would  make  us  groan  and  tremble. 
Such  were  a  part  of  my  meditations,  accompanied  with  some  de- 
gree of  praise  to  Him  who  snatched  me  from  that  st^e,  wherein  I 
stood  an  AntisigTumus  in  iniquity,  and  brought  me  to  a  knowledge 
of  salvation  and  peace. 

I  was  rather  alarmed  yesterday.  The  Protestant  Association, 
under  the  influence  of  Lord  George  Gordon,  met  in  St.  George's 
Fields,  and  from  thence  paraded  through  the  city  to  Westminster, 
joined  and  accompanied  in  their  march  by  many  thousands  of 
the  blackguards  from  all  quarters  ;  they  walked,  however,  with 
great  decency  and  quietness  ;  how  they  behaved  in  the  avenues  to 
the  Parliament-house,  and  what  weight  their  petition  acquired 
from  snch  a  respectable  attendance,  I  have  not  yet  heard.  Bu| 
I  believe  things  went  on  pretty  well  considering  the  multitude  as- 
sembled. However,  I  do  not  much  like  these  motions  and  com- 
motions, and  my  forboding  sp|pt  fancies  no  small  resemblance 
between  the  present  appearances  and  those  which  were  foreran- 
oers  of  the  civil  wars. 

1  am  your  very  affix^tionate  and  endeared  friend. 

And  obliged  servant* 


EIGHTEEN  LETTERS 

TO 

THE  REV.  MR.  8*-^***. 


LETTER  I. 

Kovtfnbtr  27, 1767- 
Mt  Deab  Frieni), 

I  CONGRATULATE  yoQ  and  Mrs.  ****  OQ  your  setdement  at 

B ,  in  your  new  bouse,  where  I  hope  the  Lord  will  dwell 

vith  and  bless  you  both,  and  make  you  blessings  to  many. 

Visits,  &c.  of  ceremony  are  burdensome ;  yet  something  is  due 
to  civility  ;  and,  though  we  cannq(  have  equal  comfort  in  all  our 
acquaintance,  it  is  best  to  be  on  peaceful  and  neighbourly  terms. 
You  need  not  have  much  of  it,  but  so  far  as  it  cannot  be  prudently 
avoided,  bear  it  as  your  cross.  1  would  not  wish  to  have  yon 
attempt  to  force  spiritual  things  too  much  upon  those  who  do  not 
like  them  ;  or  to  expect  them  from  those  who  have  not  experien- 
ced them.  But,  like  a  physician  among  sick  people,  watch  op- 
portunities of  doing  them  good  if  possible. 

Ton  know  not  what  the  Lord  has  to  do ;  some  whom  you  now 
can  hardly  bear,  may  prove  your  comforts  hereafter ;  and  if  in 
the  meantime  they  are  disposed  to  be  friendly,  and  show  you  good 
offices,  they  have  a  right  to  a  return  in  the  same  way. 

I  approve  and  rejoice  in  your  faithfulness,  but  in  some  things, 
perhaps,  you  would  do  as  well  to  keep  your  mind  more  to  your- 
self ;  I  mean  in  your  free  and  unreserved  speaking  of  ministers, 
&c.  Our  Lord's  direction  to  his  disciples,  in  something  of  a  sim- 
ilar case,  was.  Let  them  alone.  So  far  as  it  is  needful  to  with- 
stand them,  do  so  in  the  Lord's  strength  ;  but  in  mixed  conversa- 
tion, it  is  a  good  rule. to  say  nothing,  without  a  just  call,  to  the 
disadvantage  of  others.  I  must  agree  with  Mr.  B****,  that  such 
expressions  as,  drowsy  Dissenter^  are  as  well  avoided  in  public 
prayer,  being  more  likely  to  give  ofience  than  to  do  good.  And 
I  thought  some  few  things  you  said  at  Mr.  W****'s-  might  as  well 
have  been  spared,  considering  the  spirit  of  some  of  your  hearers. 
I  endeavour  to  bear  a  testimony  against  every  thing  wrong,  but 
asinprofessorsy  without  distinguishing  between  church  and  meet- 
ing ;  for,  alas  !  the  best  of  us  have  cause  for  humiliation.     My 


Let.  ^.]  TO   THE    REV.    MR.  g****.  337 

jadgment  of  many  persons  and  things  agrees  wiih  yours ;  but  I 
have  seen  there  is  good  sense  in  the  old  proverb,  "  Least  said, 
soonest  mended."  We  are  sometimes  mistaken  in  our  spirits^ 
and  though  it  becomes  us  to  be  plain  and  open  upon  proper  oc- 
casions, it  is  not  pur  duty  to  be  very  busy  in  disturbing  a  nest  of 
hornets.  I  was  once  in  a  large  company  where  very  severe  things 
were  spoken  ofMr.  W****,  when  one  person  seasonably  observ- 
ed, that  though  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  effect  conversion  and 
edification  by  a  variety  of  means,  he  had  never  known  any  body 
convinced  of  error  by  what  was  said  ^ef  hira  behind  his  back. 
This  was  about  thirteen  years  ago,  and  it  has  been  on  my  mind  as 
a  useful  bint  ever  since. 

Believe  me  to  be  a/Tectionateiy  jours. 


LETTER  II. 

Ji*Zy  15, 1768. 
My  Dear  Friend, 

I  WA9  glad  to  hear  that  you  and  Mrs.  S****  were  again  safe- 
ly restored  to  each  other,  and  that  the  Lord  had  freed  you  from 
your -complaint.  No  doubt  it  was  far  from  pleasing  to  be  so 
straitened  at  R .  But  to  be  made  in  a  measure,  submis- 
sive to  the  Lord's  will,  to  appear  io  a  disadvantage  at  those  times 
and  places  when,  perhaps,  we  should  particularly  desire  to  do 
our  best ;  I  say,,  to  be  content  to  appear  weak  and  poor,  from  a 
real  sense  of  our  weakness. and  poverty  in  bis  sight,  to  see  his 
wisdom  and  love  in  appointing  us  such  bumbling  dispensations, 
and  to  submit  to  them,  is  a  nobler  attainment  than  to  be  able  to 
speak  with  the  tongue  of  wi  angel.  The  Lord,  who  opened  the 
mouth  of  Balaam's  ass,  could,  if  he  had  pleased,  have  enabled  it 
to  have  preached  a  sermoe  an  hour  long,  and  with  as  much 
method  and  accuracy  as  the  most  learned  in  academies  or  univer- 
sities. Speaking  is  but  a  gift,  and  if  he  is  pleased  sometimes  to 
•iopen  our  mouths  freely,  we  know  not  but  a  wicked  man  might 
«qual  or  exceed  us.  But  grace  is  the  peculiar  blessing  which  be 
Jbestows  upon  his  dear  children,  and  upon  tbem  only.  Your 
streams  may  sometin^es  run  low,  but  only  when  he  sees  it  good 
and  necessary  }  at  other  times  you  shall  be  as  if  you  were  taking 
water  from  Ezekiel's  river.  However,  rejoice  in  this,  that  th^ 
fountain  is  yours,  and  nothinfi^  can  cut  you  off  from  it. 

1  am  a#ectiQnately  yourjs. 
Vol.  1\.  ^3 


33&  TO  THE   BEV.    MB.    8****.  [Let.  SL 

LETTER  m. 

September  30,  1768. 
My  Pear  Friend, 

This  has  been  ft  sort  of  busy  week  ;  but  seldom  have  I  fdt 
more  oufit  to  teach  others,  or  more  uoGt  to  preach  to  my  owb 
heart.  O,  these  outside  services  are  wearisome  things,  when  the 
Lord  leaves  us  to  feel  our  own  hardness  and  emptiness !  But  I 
would  learn  to  glory  in  my  infirmities^  that  the  power  of  Christ 
may  rest  upon  me.  As  to  myself,  though  I  have  cause  enough  to 
be  hiimbled,  I  have  none  to  be  cast  down,  if  my  righteousness  is 
in  heaven.  And  as  to  my  ministry,  I  ought  to  desire  it  may  ap« 
pear,  that  the  excellency  of  the  power  is  of  God,  and  that  thert 
19  nothing  in  me  but  weakness. 

Dust  and  ashes  is  my  name, 
My  all  is  MR  and  niiseiy. 

So  we  say,  so  we  believe,  and  yet  we  would  fain  go  forth  as  if  we 
Nnrere  wise  and  good.  The  Lord  help  us  to  discover  self  in  all 
Its  various  windings,  to  resist  it  by  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  as  we 
would  the  devil,  for  surely  it  is  his  great  engine.  It  would  be  a 
fine  thing  to  have  the  knowledge  of  Paul  and  the  eloquence  of 
Apollos  united  in  our  dear  persons ;  so  that  we  might  be  the  tip- 
top characters  in  the  foolish  dispute  among  professors.  Who  is  the 
best  preacher  P  But  I  can  tell  you  a  finer  thing,  and  more  with- 
in our  reach,  because  it  is  what  the  Lord  invites  even  the  mean- 
est of  the  flock  to  seek  for  ;  I  mean  the  character  to  which  the 
promise  is  made,  Isa.  Mi.  l5.  Let  the  discourses  of  others  be 
admired  for  ingenuity,  learning,  or  pathos,  but  may  we  be  ambi- 
tious that  ours  may  savour  of  a  broken  and  contrite  spirit ;  then 
shall  we  be  best  able  to  commend  a  precious  Saviour,  and  then  we 
may  warrantably  hope  the  Lord  will  not  sufier  us  to  speak  in  vaio. 
I  am  afiectionately  yours,  in  the  best  bonds^ 


LETTER  IV. 

February  11,  1769. 
Dear  Sir,  / 

I  CANNOT  agree  with  your  friends,  or  with  Witsius,  respect- 
ing the  degrees  in  glory.  Perhaps  we  are  not  capable  of  stating 
the  question  properly  in  this  dark  world.  I  see  no  force  in  the 
Stfgument  drawn  from  1  Cor.  xv.  40,  41  n  or  rather,  that  does  not 


LeU  4.]  TO   THE   BEV*   MR.    S****.  9Si 

appear  to  mc  the  sense  of  the  passage,  or  that  the  apostle  had 
any  respect  to  degrees  of  glory.  The  text  in  Matt,  xix*  28  may 
be  compared  with  Rev.  iiu  21.  However,  admitting  such  de« 
grees,  perhaps  they  will  not  be  distributed  (according  to  human 
expectation)  to  such  as  have  been  most  employed  in  active  life, 
Matt.  X.  41.  As  wickedness  is  rated  by  the  judgment  of  God,  not 
according  to  the  number  of  outward  acts,  but  by  what  the  heart 
would  do,  had  opportunity  offered  Matt.  v.  28  ;  so  the  Lord  will 
graciously  accept  the  desires  of  his  people,  and  they  shall  in  no 
wise  lose  their  reward,  because  his  providence  ha«  appointed  them 
a  narrower  sphere. 

One  man  like  Mr.  Whitfield  is  raised  up  to  preach  the  Gospel 
with  success  through  a  considerable  part  of  the  earth  ;  another  is 
called  to  the  humbler  service  of  sweeping  the  streets,  or  cleaning 
this  great  minister's  shoes.  Now,  if  the  latter  is  thankful  and  con? 
tent  in  his  poor  station,  if  he  can  look  without  envy,  yea,  with 
much  love,  on  the  man  that  is  honoured  ;  If  he  can  rejoice  in  the 
good  that  is  done,  or  pray  for  the  success  of  those  whom  the  Lo^xl 
Bends,  1  see  not  why  he  may  not  be  as  great  a  man  in  the  sight  of 
God,  as  he  who  is  followed  and  admired  by  thousands. 

Upon  a  supposition  of  degrees  of  glory,  1  should  think  it  pro- 
bable the  best  Christian  will  have  the  highest  place.  And  1  am 
inclined  to  think,  that  if  you  and  1  were  to  travel  in  search  of  the 
best  Christian  in  the  land,  or  were  qualified  to  distinguish  who  de- 
served the  title,  it  is  more  than  two  to  one  we  should  not  find  the 
person  in  a  pulpit,  or  any  public  office  of  life  ;  perhaps  some  old 
woman  at  her  wheel,  or  some  bed-rid  person,  hid  from  the  know- 
ledge of  the  world,  in  a  mud-walled  cottage,  would  strike  our  at- 
tention more  than  any  of  the  doctors  or  reverends  with  whom  we 
are  acquainted.  Let  us  not  measure  men,  'much  less  ourselves, 
by  gifts  or  services.  One  grain  of  grace  is  worth  abundance  of 
gifts.     To  be  self-abased  ;  to  be  filled  with  a  spirit  of  love,  and 

Eeace,  and  gendeness  ;  to  be  dead  to  the  world  ;  to  have  the 
eart  deeply  affected  with  a  sense  of  the  glory  and  grace  of  Jesus ; 
to  have  our  will  bowed  to'the  wiU  of  God  ;  these  are  the  great 
things,  more  valuable,  if  compared  in  the  balance  of  the  sanctuary, 
than  to  be  an  instrument  of  converting  a  province,  or  a- nation  : 
see  1  Cor.  xiii.  1 — 3.  in  a  word,  I  should  think,  from  Luke,  vPi. 
47,  that  those  who  love  most  will  be  most  happy  ;  that  those  who 
have  most  forgiven,  will  love  most.  And  as,  in  the  present  life, 
«very  believer  thinks  himself  a  peculiar  instance  of  mercy,  and 
i^ees  his  sins  in  a  pecu^ar  light  of  aggravation,  I  apprehend  it  to 
be  so  hereafter.  The  sin  of  nature  is  equal  in  all ;  and  so  I  think 
would  actual  sin  be  likewise,  but  for  the  differences  made  by  the 
restraining  grace  and  providence  of  Qod.  He  is  not,  perhaps,  in 
the  sight  of  God,  the  greatest  sinner,  who  has  committed  the  mosl 


^40  TO   THE  REV.    MR.   S****.  [Let.  4* 

notorious  acts  of  sin  in  the  sight  of  man.  We  should  not  judge 
one  wolf  to  be  fiercer  than  another  because  he  had  opportunity  of 
devouring  more  sheep.  Any  other  wolf  would  have  done  the  same, 
in  the  same  circumstances.  So  in  sin.  So  (think  I)  in  grace. 
The  Lord^s  people,  every  one  of  them,  would  be  glad  to  do  him 
as  much  sA'vice,  and  to  yield  him  as  much  honour,  as  any  of  the 
number  have  attained  to.  But  he  divides  severally,  to  one  60,  to 
one  30,  to  one  100,  as  he  pleases ;  but  they  are  all  accepted  in 
the  same  righteousness  ;  equally  united  to  Jesus,  and,  as  to  the 
^6od  works  on  which  a  supposed  difference  is  afterwards  to  be 
founded,  I  apprehend  those  that  have  most,  will  gladly  do  by 
them  as  Paul  did  by  his  legal  righteousness,  count  them  loss  and 
dung  for  the  excellency  of  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord  ;  Mattj  xxv.  37. 
But  it  may  be  said,  is  then  nothing  to  be  expected  for  so  manv  tri- 
als and  sufferings  as  some  ministers  are  called  to  for  the  sake  of 
the  Gospel  ?  In  my  judgment,  he  that  does  not  find  a  reward  ia 
being  excited,  supported,  enabled  by  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God  in 
the  work  of  the  Gospel ;  who  does  not  think,  that  to  have  multi- 
plied labours  owned  to  the  conversion  even  of  a  few  souls,  is  a 
great  reward  ;  who  does  not  account  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel, 
with  grace  to  be  faithful  in  the  discharge  of  it,  a  reward  and  hon- 
our in  itself  sufficient  to  overbalance  aH  the  difficulties  it  may  ex- 
pose him  to  ;  whoever,  I  say,  does  not  thus  think  ef  the  service  of 
Jesus  in  the  Gospel,  has  some  reason  to  question  his  risht  to  the 
lowest  degree  of  glory,  or,  at  least,  has  little  right  to  look  for  emi- 
nence in  glory,  even  though  he  should  preach  with  as  much  power 
and  acceptance,  and  in  the  midst  of  as  many  hardships,  as  St. 
Paul  did. 

You  will  hardly  think,  by  my  letter,  that  I  am  straitened  for 
time  at  present,  yet  this,  indeed,  is  the  case  ;  but  I  have  dropped 
into  a  gossip  witn  you  insensibly.  I  am  glad  the  Lord  has  visited 
you  and  comforted  you  of  late.  Think  it  not  strange  if  such  sea- 
sons are  followed  by  temptations  and  darkness.  St.  Paul  was  in 
danger  of  being  exalted  above  measure  ;  and  you  know  the  means 
the  Lrord  employed  to  preserve  him.  You  are  no  better  than  he ; 
and  need  not  desire  to  be  more  graciously  dealt  with.  His  grace 
shall  be  sufficient  for  you.  As  to  every  thing  else,  submit  your- 
Jfdf  to  hin>. 

I  am  yours.  &c- 


I^t.  5.]  TO   THE   REV.   MR*   S»««,  ^41 

LETTER  V. 

July  7^1170. 
My  Dear  Friend, 

I  RECEIVED  your  piteous,  doleful  letter ;  I  hope  it  is  needless 
now  to  attempt  to  comfort  you,  and  that  this  will  find  Satan  cast 
out  and  the  man  restored  to  his  right  miod,  fitting  at  the  feet  of 
Jesus.  I  pity  you  that  you  have  so  manv  conflicts ;  yet  I  rejoice 
with  you,  because  I  know  the  Lord  intends  you  good  by  these  tos- 
sings,  and  will  thereby  keep  you  humble  and.dependent.  Is  it  not 
better  to  be  sifted  and  shaken,  than  to  be  left  to  fall  in  such  snares 
as  some  have  been  taken  in,  whom .  you  have  accounted  better 
than  yourself  ?  But  why  are  you  so  ready  to  throw  down  your 
shiela,  and  to  talk  of  running  away  from  the  battle  2  He  that  har- 
rasses  you'while  you  hold  the  Gospel  plough,  would  be  presently 
with  yon  if  you  were  ploughing  in  the  neld.  Nor  can  any  change, 
of  circumstances  put  you  out  of  his  reach,  unless  you  could  teli 
how  to  run  away  from  yourself. 

It  is  said,  ^'  Thou  shalt  not  muzzle  the  ox  that  treadeth  out  the 
corn.^'  I  am  sure  the  Lord  has  not  muzzled  you  :  how  is  it  then, 
thdiX  while  you  set  forth  a  free  salvation  to  others,  you  do  not  feed 
upon  it  yourself ;  but  contradict  your  own  preaching,  and  reason 
and  complain,  as  though  you  had  found  out  that  the  blood  of  Jesus 
Christ  cannot  cleanse  from  all  sin  ;  or,  as  though  the  Lord  were 
as  changeable  as  you  are  ?  I  know  you  ai*e  a  staunch  Calvinis^t  in 
your  judgment,  or  I  should  think  you  an  Arminian  by  some  of 
your  complaints. 

When  the  enemy  would  tempt  you  to  murmur  about  a  provis- 
ion, tell  him  that  he  knows  (for  he  walks  to  and  fro  the  earth)  that, 
taking  the  kingdom  round,  there  is  not  one  minister  of  the  Gospel 
in  ten,  so  well  provided  for  as  you.  And  if  so,  you  may  ask  him, 
if  you  have  not  much  more  cause  for  thankfulness  than  murmur- 
ing. What  you  have,  the  Lord  has  given  you  ;  and  if  he  sees  that 
is  too  little,  he  will  moreover  give  you  such  and  such  things  ;  3 
Sam.  xii.  8.  But  then  it  must  be  in  his  way  and  time,  and  not  in 
your  own.  How  can  you  teach  others  to  live  a  life  of  feith,  except 
you  learn,  by  daily  experience,  to  live  it  yourself  ?  And  the  life  of 
faith  is  maintained,  not  by  bags  and  coffers,  but  by  pleading  the 
promises  in  prayer,  when  we  have  nothing  else  to  look  to. 

As  to  the  success  of  your  ministry,  it  is  no  part  of  your  conceni) 
further  than  to  make  it  matter  of  prayer.  Faithfulness  and  dili- 
gence is  our  part ;  the  rest  is  the  Lord's.     I  suppose  you  arc  quite 

as  acceptable  in  B as  Jeremiah  was  in  Jerusalem  ;  and 

probably  see  more  to  encourage  you  in  your  hearers,  than  he  ||id 
in  his.     He  was  not  very  popular,  but  he  was  plain  and  honest ; 


34^  TO  Ta£  REV.  MB.  smhhi.  [Let.  6. 

and  ifnot  owned  lo  save  the  souls  of  others,  he  delivered  his  own. 
And  after  all,  the  Lord  did  just  as  much  by  him  as  he  purposed 
before  he  called  him ;  and  he  did  not  a  tittle  more  than  he  had 
purposed  beforehand,  bv  the  preaching  of  St.  Paul. 

But  it  seems  you  think  other  people  preach  better  than  you.  I 
hope  you  will  always  think  so  ;  if  you  should  be  mistaken,  it  is  a 
fault  on  the  right  side*  But  other  people  think  so  too.  I  am  not 
so  sure  of  that ;  but  if  they  do,  it  is  perhaps  to  chastise  you  for 
your  unbelieving  fears.  If  you  have  a  mind  to  outdoyourself,  and 
to  outdo  us  all,  1  will  give  you  a  receipt — Believe.  The  more  you 
believe,  the  better  you  will  preach.  If  the  ministers  they  com- 
mend are  faithful,  simple  preachers  of  the  truth,  depend  upon  it, 
the  more  your  people  like  them,  the  more  they  will  like  you.  I 
believe  you  are  as  free  from  a  fear  of  being  outshone  by  others  as 
most  men  ;  but  there  is  some  of  this  leaven  in  all  our  hearts  ;  let 
us  watch  and  pray  against  it,  and  heartily  wish  and  pray,  that  all 
who  preach  Jesus,  may  do  it  with  more  power  and  success  than  we 
can  ourselves.  We  «hall  not  be  the  poorer  for  their  riches  ;  but 
our  Lord  and  theirs  will  take  it  well  of  us  :  and  if  he  sees  us  sim- 
ply content  to  take  the  lowest  place,  he  will  raise  us  up  higher,  for 
It  is  a  standing  law  in  his  kingaooi,  that  he  that  humbleth  himself 
shall  be  exalted. 

I  have  touched  on  all  your  complaints,  and  brought  myself  to 
the  end  of  my  paper.  Notwithstanding  what  I  have  written,  1 
could  fill  a  sheet  with  sorrowful  stories  in  my  turn  ;  but "  The 
Lord  is  good.^' 

I  am  affectionately  yours. 


LETTER  Vf. 

My  Dear  Friend, 

I  MIGHT  defer  answering  your  last  till  I  see  you ;  yet  because 
I  love  you,  I  will  write.  I  apprehend  your  mind  is  darkened  with 
temptation,  for  your  views  of  the  Gpspel,  when  you  preach,  are 
certainly  clearer  than  your  letter  expresses.  You  may  think  you 
distinguish  between  evidences  and  conditions,  but  the  heart  is  de- 
ceitful, and  often  beguiles  our  judgment,  when  we  are  judging  con- 
cerning ourselves. 

You  say,  *'  I  hope  it  is  my  desire  to  cast  myself  upon  the  free 
promise  in  Jesus  Christ ;  but  this  alone  dees  not  give  assurance 
of  my  personal  interest  in  his  blood."     I  ask.  Why  not  ?  Because 

?ou  lean  to  conditions,  and  do  not  think  yourself  good  enough* 
t  appears  to  me,  that  if  I  cast  myself  upon  his  promise,  and  if  hie 
promise  is  true,  I  must  undoubtedly  be  interested  in  his  full  re* 


Let.  6.]  TO   THE  BET.   MR.   S«hum.  3491 

demption  ;  for  he  has  said,  *^  Him  that  cometh  I  will  in  no  wis& 
cast  out.'^  If  you  can  find  a  case  or3i|rcumstance  which  the  words 
in  no  wise  will  not  include,  then  you  may  despond. 

It  is  certainly  a  delusion  to  imagine  one's  self  of  the  number  of 
Elect  without  scriptural  evidence.  But  have  you  not  that  evi« 
dence  ?  I  think,  as  the  sayine  is,  you  cannot  see  the  wood  for 
trees.  You  tell  me  what  evidences  you  want,  namely,  spiritual 
experiences,  inward  holiness,  earnest  endeavours.  All  this  I  may 
allow  in  a  right  sense  ;  but  in  judging  on*these  grounds,  it  is  com"* 
mon  and  easy  in  a  dark  hour  to  turn  the  Gospel  into  a  covenant 
of  works.  But  lake  it  your  own  way.  If  a  fear  of  being  deceiv- 
ed, a  mourning  under  a  sense  of  vileness,a  hungering  and  thirsting 
after  righteousness,  a  sense  of  the  evil  and  danger  of  sin,  a  persua- 
sion of  the  preciousness  and  suitablent^ss  of  Christ  in  his  offices, 
&c. ;  if  these  are  not  spiritual  experiences,  I  know  not  what  are. 
And  will  you  dare  deny  that  God  has  given  you  these  ?  As  to  in- 
ward holiness,  when  we  meet,  you  shalidefine,  if  you  please,  what 
you  mean  by  it.  The  holiness  of  a  sinner  seems  principally  to 
consist  in  self-abasement,  and  in  admiring  views  of  Jesus  as  a  com- 
plete Saviour — these  are  the  main  principles  from  whence  every 
gracious  fruit  is  derived.  In  proportion  a&  we  have  these,  wo 
shall  be  humble,  meek,  patient,  weaned  from  the  world,  and  devo- 
ted to  God.  But  if  you  will  look  for  a  holiness  that  shall  leave  na 
room  for  the  workings  of  corruption  and  temptation,  you  look  for- 
what  God  has  no  where  promised,  and  for  what  is  utterly  inconsist- 
ent with  our  present  state.  If  you  say,  you  must  doubtless  expect 
to  feel  evil  in  your  heart,  but  that  you  are  discouraged  by  feeling 
so  much  ;  I  ask,  further,  if  you  can  find,  from  the  word  of  Goo^ 
how  much  a  holy  person  may  feel  ?  Fo^  my  own^  part,  1  believe 
the  most  holy  people  feel  the  most  eviU  Indeed,  when  faith  is 
strong  and  in  exercise,  sin  will  not  much  breakout  to  the  observa- 
tion of  others  ;  but  it  cuts  them  out  work  enough  within.  Indeed,, 
my  friend,  you  will  not  be  steadily  comfortable  till  you  leani  ta 
derive  your  comforts  from  a  simple  apprehension  of  the  person, 
work,  and  offices  of  Christ.  He  is  made  unto  us  of  God,  not  only 
righteousness,  but  sanctification  also.  One  direct  appropriating^ 
act  of  faith  in  him,  will  strengthen  you  more'tban  all  the  earnest 
endeavours  you  speak  of.  Evidences,  as  you  call  them,  are  of 
use  in  their  place  ;  but  the  best  evidence  of  faith  i^  the  shutting 
our  eyes  equally  vpon  our  defects  and  our  graces,  and  looking 
directly  to  Jesus  as  clothed  with  authority  and  power  to  save  to 
the  very  uttermost.  Sp  you  preach  to  others — so  you  deal  with 
exercised  consciences  ;  why  not  preach  so  to  yourself  ?  Will  you 
point  out  a  ground  for  their  hopes  upon  which  you  are  afraid  to 
venture  your  own  ?  Has  He  not  kept  you  sound  in  the  faith  in 
wavering  times  ?  does  he  not  preserve  y^u^  unspotted  from  th^* 


iM4  TO  THE  EKr.  MB.  s»^,  [Let.  7. 

world  ?  does  he  not  enable .  and  own  you  in  your  ministry  ?  has 
he  not  often  refreshed  you  with  his  consolations  ?  Do  you  not  tell 
others,  that  the  blood  of  Jesus  cleanseth  from  all  sin  f  Why  th«Q 
do  you  give  way  to  doubts  and  fears  ?  I  would  have  yon  hnmbled 
before  the  Lord  for  your  unworthiness.  In  this  I  wish  I  was  more 
like  you  ;  but  rejoice  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  resist  every  temptation 
to  doubt  your  interest  in  his  love,  as  you  would  resist  a  tempta- 
tion to  £idnlteryor  mui^er.  Plead  the  apostle's  argument  Rom« 
viii.  31 — 38,  before  the  Lord  and  against  Satan,  and  do  not  dis- 
honour Christ  so  as  toimaghie  he  will  disappoint  the  desire  which 
no  power  but  his  could  implant  in  your  heart. 

Yours  in  the  best  bonds,  &c. 


LETTER  Vn. 

Mt  Dear  Friend, 

1  SHALL  be  glad  to  hear  that  you  and  Mrs.  **^*  are  in 
health,  and  that  your  souls  prosper.  Mine  was  dull  and  languid 
when  with  you,  and  has  been  too  much  so  ever  since.  But  I  trust 
the  Lord,  the  good  Shepherd,  wilf  lead  me  safely  through  this 
wilderness,  and  bring  me  at  last  to  see  him  in  his  kingdom.  I 
-am  weary  of  living  at  such  a  distance,  yet  cannot  quicken  myself. 
Pray  for  me  and  roine^  that  we  may  be  favoured  with  a  season  of 
refreshment.  I  have  every  thing  else ;  but  the  want  of  more  live- 
ly and  abiding  communion  with  him,  makes  my  chariot  wheels 
move  heavily. 

To  him  I  owe  my  wealth  and  friends 
r  And  health,  and  safe  abode; 
Thanks  to  his  name  for  meaner  thiffgs, 
Bur  these  are  not  my  God. 

Y  find  vanity  engraven,  in  capital  letters,  on  myself  and  every- 
thing around  me ;  and,  while  encompassed  with  mercies,  and  so 
thoroughly  satisfied  with  my  outward  condition  that  I  could  hard- 
ly wisii  a  single  circumstance  altered,  I  feel  emptiness,  and  groan, 
being  burdened.  If  you  think,  by  my  writing  in  this  strain,  that 
I  am  very  spiritual,  you  will  be  greatly  mistaken.  But  I  can 
say,  I  wish  to  be  so. 

My  preaching  seems,  in  some  respects,  contrary  to  my  experi- 
ence. The  two  points  on  which  I  most  largely  insist,  are,  the 
glories  of  the  Redeemer,  and  the  happiness  of  a  life  of  communion 
with  God.  I  can  often  find  something  to  say  on  these  subjects  in 
the  pulpit  5  but  at  some  other  times,  my  thoughts  of  Jesus  are  so 


{jet.  @.]  TO  Tfiifi  REV.  M^.  »»»^«,  845 

low,  disjointedy  and  interrupted,  that  it  seems  as  if  I  knew  nothing 
of  him  but  by  th^  hearing  of  the  ear.  And  answerable  to  this  is 
the  sensible  communion  I  have  with  him.  Alas !  how  faint,  how 
unfrequeut !  I  approach  the  throne  of  grace  encumbered  with  a 
thousand  distractions  of  thought,  each  of  which  seems  to  engage 
more  of  my  attention  than  the  business  I  have  in  hand. 

Tq  complete  the  riddle,  I  would  add,  that,  notwithstanding  all 
these  complaints,  which  seem  great  enough  to  forbid  my  hope,  to 
plunge  me  in  despair,  I  have  peace  at  bottom.  I  see,  I  know,  I 
caunot  deny,  that  he  is  all-sufficient ;  can,  and  does  pity  and  help 
me,  unworthy  as  I  am;  and  though  I  seldom  enjoy  a  glimpse  of 
sunshine,  yet  I  am  not  wholly  in  the  dark.  My  heart  is  vile,  and 
even  my  prayers  are  sin ;  I  wish  I  could  mourn  more,  but  the 
Lord  /brbid  I  should  sorrow  as  those  tliat  have  no  hope.  He  is 
able  to  save  to  the  uttermost.  His  blood  speaks  louder  than  all 
ray  evils.  My  sonl  is  very  sick,  but  my  physiciap  is  infaUiblis* 
He  never  turns  out  any  as  incurable  of  whom  he  has  once  taken 
ibe  charge.  That  would  be  equally  to  the  dishonour  of  his  skill 
and  bis  compassion.  Had  he  been  willing  I  should  perish,  he 
would  not  have  wrought  a  miracle  (for  I  account  it  no  less)  to 
save  me  from  sinking  into  the  great  deep,  when  he  first  put  it  in  my 
lieart  to  cry  to  him  for  merc^.  And,  O  what  astonishing  good- 
ness has  fpllowed  me  from  that  day  to  this  !  Help  me  to  praise 
him ;  and  may  he  help  you  to  proclaim  the  glory  of  his  ^Ivation^ 
and  to  rejoice  in  it  yourself. 

I  9jn  affectionately  yours. 


LETTER  VIII. 

December  6,  1773, 
]Ay  Dear  Sik, 

I  LONG  for  you  to  learn  to  distinguish  betiween  what  are  pro# 
perly  the  effects  of  a  nature  miserablv  depraved,  and  which  shows 
itself  in  the  heart  of  every  child  of  Gbdj  and  the  effects  of  Satan's 
immediate  temptations.  Wha^^u  complain  of  are  fiery  darts, 
but  you  cannot  be  properly  said  to  shoot  them  at  yourself;  they 
«ome  firom  an  enemy,  and  the'  shield  of  faith  is  given  you,  that 
you  may  qnencti  tbem  ;  why  then  are  you  so  ready  to  throw  it 
away  f  You  seem  to  think  yourself  better  at  one  time  than  at  an- 
other ;  now  I  believe  that  we,  as  in  and  of  ourselves,  nre  slU 
ways  alike.  Look  at  the  s^ea ;  sometimes  it  rages  and  tosses  its 
waves^  at  another  time  it  is  calm  and  smooth.  But  the  natnre  of 
|he  sea  is  not  cb^ged :  i(  is  not  growa  inore  gt^ntle  in  lAelf  tban 


346  TO  THE  BEv.  HR.  s«*«*.  [Let.  91. 

h  was  before ;  wait  but  till  the  next  storm,  and  yoa  will  see  it  rage 
again  a:^  much  as  ever.  Our  unrenewed  part  is  as  antameable  as 
Ibe  sea.  When  temptations  are  at  a  distance,  or  the  Lord  is  pre^^ 
sent,  It  may  lie  quiet,  but  it  is  always  deceitful,  and  desperately 
wicked.  Ur  like  a  lion,  which  may  be  sometimes  awake,  some- 
times asleep ;  but  whether  asleep  or  awake,  it  is  a  lion  still,  and  a 
Klile  matter  wilh rouse  it  from  its  slumber,  and  set  it  roaring; 
though,  while  sleeping,  it  may  seem  as  harmless  as  a  cat. 

If  we  cotrTc^  muse  less  upon  ourselves,  and  meditate  more  upon 
ihe  Lord  Jesus,  we  should  do  better.  He  likewise  is  always  the 
same  :  as  near  and  as  gracious  in  the  storm  as  in  the  calm.  Yea, 
he  expresses  a  peculiar  care  of  those  who  are  tempted',  tossed;  and 
not  comforted.  Though  you  are  sore  thrust  at  that  you  may 
fell.  Fie  will  be  your  stay.  But  I  wish  yon  could  more  readily 
rest  upon  his  word,  and  rejoice  in  his  righteousness,  even  in  thct 
anly. 

Believe  roe  to  be. 

Sincerely  and*  affectionately,  J^our?.. 


LETTER  IX; 

October  22,  HIS.. 
Mr  Dear  Friend, 

If  the  lives  of  the  two  Henrys;  and  of  other  good  men,  were 
written  by  inspired  men,  you  would  not  be  so  much  discouraged  at 
Heading  them.  Depend  upon  it,  they  saw  as  much  reason  to  be 
ashaoied  of  themselves  as  we  do.  To  us  they  appear  in  their  Bet^ 
ter  clothes,  and  we  are  told  more  of  what  the  Lord  wrought  for 
them,  than  of  the  effects  of  indwelling  sin  under  which  they  groan- 
ed.    If  I  should  outlive  you,  and  I  should  have  a  call  to  write 

the  life  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  ****,  of ,  I  should  perhaps  find 

more  to  say  in  your  favour  thanr  you  are  aware  of;  and  if  you 
would  have  the  darker  side  Known,  as  well  as  the  Mghtdr,  you 
must  write  it  yourselC  ^^ 

I^am  glad  Mr.  ****  preacbfr  among  you,  there  are  some 

Joints  on  which  we  must  exercise  mutual  forbearance.  I  have 
eard  him  speak  sometimes  as  if  be  considered  assurance  to  per- 
tain to  the  essence  of  faith.  Yet  t  db  not  think  he  would  wil- 
lingly discourage  a  weak  believer;  He  is  a  frank,  booest  roaOy 
and  I  am  persuaded  would  not  Have  been  offended,  if  you  bad 
hinted  to  him  in  conversatioor  any  thing  in  which  you  seemed 
to  differ;  and  perhaps,  were  tie  to  explain  himself,  the  differenoBL* 
would  not  appear  to  be  great. 


\JkU  IG.]  TO  *rH£  MXiV,  MR.  8»<<Mw  34V 

i  hope  yoti  are  both  well  reconciled  to  the  death  of  your  child. 
Indeed^  I  cannot  be  sorry  for  the  deatli  of  truants.  How  many 
storms  do  they  escape !  J^r  can  I  doubt,  in  my  private  judgment, 
that  they  are  included  in  the  election  of  grace.  Perhaps  those 
who  die  in  infancy  are  the  exceeding  great  multitude  of  all  people, 
nations,  and  languages  mentioned,  Rev.  vii.  9.  in  distinction  from 
the  visible  body  of  professing  believers,  who  were  marked  in  thdr 
foreheads,  and  Qpenly  known  to  be  the  Lord's.  But  I  check  my* 
self,  and  would  not  indulge  opinions  about  points  not  clearly  and 
certainly  revealed. 

I  am,  skicerely, 

Your  affectionate  friend  and  brother* 


,  LETTER  X. 

June  44,  l'?74. 
JSIy  Dear  Friend, 

I  RETURNED  homc  in  saiety,  under  that  invisible  and  gra- 
cious protection  to  wVicli  we  are  always  equally  indebted,  whether 
at  borne  or  abroad,  and  which  had  preserved  all  in  peace  during 
4ny  absence.     Many,  undoubtedly,  who  led  their  houses  on  the 

-day  I  went  to ,  will  never  return  to  them  again  alive;  and 

.probably  many  who  left  their  families  in  peace,  have  found,  or 
will  find  when  they  come  back,  that  some  unexpected  calamity 
has  quite  prevented  the  pleasure  they  proposed  in  seeing  their 
habitation  again.  To  live  as  I.  have  long  done,  fi'om  year  to 
year  exempted  from  tiie  distresses  with  which  the  world  is  filled ; 
to  see  so  many  falling  and  suffering  around,  yet  I  and  mine  pre- 
served ;  sickness  and  deatb  marching  a*bout  and  filling  almost 
every  house  witb  groans,  and  yet  not  permitted  to  knock  at  our 
door ;  this  is  a  mercy  for  wbich  1  am  not  sufficiently  thankful. 
Ifideed,  ingratiljirde  and  insensibility  towards  the  Lord,  ate  evils 
which  I  may  ^bhor  mjself  for ;  and  did  t  act  in  tfa^  like  unfeeling, 
stupid  spirit  towards  my  fellon'^creatures,  they  would  soon  be 
weary  of  me.  But  he  is  God  yid  not  man!  I  often  call  upon 
my  heai*t,  and  charge  it  not  to  forget  his  benefits':  but  there  is  so 
much  slon)*  and  lead  in  its  composition,  that  I  Can  tiidke  little  im*^ 
pression  upon  it.     Melt  it,  O  Lord,  with  the  fire  of  thy  love  ! 

Though  I  Was  very  glad  4o  see  you  and  our  friends  at  your 
4iouse,  I  was  not  pleased  wifli  myself  when  there.  Particularly, 
{  was  sorry  I  gave  way  to  the  discourse  about  Baptism,  which,  as 
"we  all  seemed  well  persuaded  in  our  own  minds,  was  little  better 
tfiati  idle  talk.    When  tea  was  almost  over^  it  occurred  to  melioir 


348  t6  THE  ILEir.  Mm.  ^MHi*.  [Let^  1 1 . 

easily  I  might  have  turaed  it  to  a  moi^  profitable  subject ;  but 
then  it  was  too  late.  Methinks  it  did  not  require  much  study  to 
find  out  that  we  were  but  poorly  employed.  Perhaps  I  maybe  wiser 
hereafter  ;  but  one  word  draws  on  another  so  strangely,  that  we 
are  liable  to  be  entangled  before  we  arc  aware,  for  Mr.  Self  loves 
.  to  speak  last. 

I  thought  of  you  yesterday.  I  hope  you  had  a  pfeasant  visit. 
I  should  have  been  glad  to  have  been  with  you ;  I  love  that 
house.  'I*here  seems  to  be  no  leisure  in  it  to  talk  about  persons 
or  opinions.  The  inquiry  there  is  concerning  Jesus ;  bow  to 
love  him  more;  and  serve  him  better ;  how  to  derive  from  him, 
and  render  to  him.  If  this  is  to  be  a  Moravian^  1  do  not  wonder 
they  are  reproached  and  scorned.  Where  the  spirit  of  the  Gos- 
pel is,  there  the  cross  will  be.  But  as  I  am  acquainted  only  with 
two  families^  I  cannot  say  how  it  is  with  the  rest ;  but  why  should 
I  not  hope  they  are  all  in  the  same  way  ;  if  they  have  dotwith-' 
standing,  some  little  peculiarities,  I  apprehend  very  few  of  those 
societies  which  are  ready  to  censure  them,  can  exceed  them  in  the 
real  fruits  of  the  Spirit. 

I  am  your  sincerely  affectidnatei 


LE-fTER  XI. 

September  — ,  1774. 
Mt  Dear  FeienI), 

YduA  judgment  in  the  Gdspel  is  sound  ;  but  there  is  a  legal 
sdmething  in  ytiur  experience,  which  perplexes  you.  You  are  ca- 
pable of  advising  others ;  I  wish  you  could  apply  more  efiectually 
what  you  preach  to  yourself,  and  distinguish  in  your  own  case  be- 
tween a  cause  of  humiliation  and  a  reason  of  distress.  You  can- 
not be  too  sensible  of  the  inward  and  inbred  evils  you  complain  of) 
but  you  may  be,  yea^  you  are,  improperly  affected  by  them.  You 
say  you  find  it  hard  to  believe  it  compatible  with  the  divine  purity 
to  embrace  *r  employ  such  a  monster  as  yourself.  You  express 
not  only  a  low  opinion  of  yourself  which  is  right,  but  too  low  an 
Opinion  of  the  person,  work^  and  promises  of  the  Redeemer; 
which  is  certainly  wrong.  And  it  seems,  too,  that  though  the  to- 
tal, absolute  depravity  of  human  nature  is  a  fundameiltal  article 
in  your  creed,  vou  do  not  experimentally  take  up  that  doctrine,  in 
the  length,  and  breadth,  and  depth  of  it,  as  it  lies  in  the  word  of 
God.  Or  else,  why  are  you  continually  disappointed  and  sur- 
prised that  in  and  out  of  yourself  you  find  nothing  but  evil  f  A 
man  with  two  broken  legs  will  hardly  wonder  that  he  is  not  Mcy 


Let.  12.]  Tb  i'aE  kev.  Mft.  s**»*.  349 

to  ruDi  or  even  to  stand.  Tour  complaints  seem  to  go  upon  the 
sapposition,  that  though  you  have  nothing  good  of  your  own,  you 
ought  to  have  ;  and  most  certainly  you  ought  if  you  were  under 
the  law ;  but  the  Gospel  is  provided  for  the  helpless  and  tlie 
worthless.  You  do  not  wonder  that  it  is  cold  in  winter,  or  dark 
Xki  midnight.  All  depends  upon  the  sun  ;  just  so  the  exercise  of 
grace  depends  upon  the  San  of  Righteousness.  When  he  with- 
draws, we  iiod  ourselves  very  bad  indeed,  but  no  Worse  in  our- 
selves than  the  Scriptures  declare  us  to  be.  If,  indeed,  the  divine 
rectitude  and  puritv  accepts  and  employs  you,  it  is  not  for  your 
own  sake,  nor  could  it  be,  were  you  ten  thousand  times  better  than 
you  are.  You  have  not,  you  cannot  have,  any  thing  in  the  sight 
of  God,  but  what  you  derive  from  the  righteousness  and  atonement 
of  Jesus.  If  you  could  keep  Him  more  constantly  in  view,  you 
would  be  more  comfortable.  He  would  be  more  honoured.  Sa- 
tan transforms  himself  into  an  angel  of  light.  He  sometimes 
offers  to  teach  us  humility  ;  but  though  I  wish  to  be  humble,  I 
desire  not  to  learn  in  bis  school.  His  {^remises  perhaps  are  true, 
That  we  are  vile,  wretched  creatures  : — but  then  he  draws  abom- 
inable conclusions  from  them  ;  and  would  teach  us  that,  there- 
fore, we  ought  to  question  either  the  power,  or  the  willingness,  or 
the  faithfulness  of  Christ.  Indeed,  though  our  complaints  are 
good,  so  far  as  they  spring  from  a  dislike  of  sin  ;  yet  when  we 
come  to  examine  them  closely,  there  is  often  so  much  self-will, 
self-righteousness,  unbelief,  pride  and  impatience,  mingled  with 
them,  that  they  are  little  better  than  the  Worst  evils  we  can  com- 
plain of. 

We  join  in  love  to  you  both.  Let  us  pray  that  we  ma}'  be  en- 
abled to  follow  the  apostle's  or  rather  t.he  Lord's  command  by 
him,  Rejoice  in  the  Lord  always,  and  again  I  say,  rejoice.  We 
have  little  to  rejoice  in  ourselves^  but  we  have  right  and  reason  to 
rejoice  in  Him. 

I  am,  for  his  sake,  sincerely  yours^ 


LETTER  XIL 


February  11,  1777. 


Mt  Dear  FaiENi), 

The  words,  "  for  them,"  Isa.  xxxv.  1.  had  better  have  been 
omitted,  ^or  they  have  no  business  with  the  text,  and  only  perplex 
the  sense.  This  is  the  judgment  of  the  best  commentators.  But 
if  retained,  the  best  meaning  is,  that  when  the  power  of  Edom  is 
destroyed,  the  places  which  before  were  desolate  and  barren^ 


350  XO   THE   BET.    UR.    S**^  (liet.    1^ 

shall  rejoice  4>ver  them  ;  to  the  destruction  of  the  one,  the  glory  of 
the  other  shall  siTCceed. 

The  whole  chapter  is  chiefly  a  pastoral  description  of  the  bless- 
edjchaiige  which  the  Gospel  shall  effect ;  as  if  a  dry  wilderness 
shall  be  changed  into  a  well-watered  and  frvitftil  country.  There 
is  no  deed  to  seek  a  particular  and  express  meaning  of  the  words 
^*  reeds  and  rushes  ;^'  they  only  enliven  the  description  and  con- 
trast. Dry  sandy  deserts  ^as  in  Africa)  are  Che  haunt  or  habita*- 
tion  of  serpents  or  dragons.  Bnt  such  an  alteration  shall  ensue, 
that  instead  of  dry  places,  there  shall  be  rivers  and  pools ;  water 
not  merely  to  refresh  the  grass,  but  in  great  abundance,  as  in  these 
places  %vhere  reeds  and  rushes  usually  grow.  •  What  is  often  said 
of  parables,  that  they  do  not  go  on  all-fours,  is  true  of  many  pro- 
phetical descriptions ;  there  are  circumstances  which  heighten  the 
beauty  of  the  painting ;  but  if  we  attempt  Co  deduce  doctrines  from 
every  such  circumstance,  we  rather  enervate  the  Spirit  of  the  pas- 
sage, than  explain  it. 

It  must  be  allowed,  likewise,  that  our  translation,  though  in  the 
«Dain  excellent  and  faithful,  often  misses  the  beauty  and  clearness 
of  the  original,  owing  sometimes  to  a  servile  dependence  on  the 
Masorite  pointiog,  and  sometimes  to  the  translators  not  attend- 
ing to  the  genius  4)f  the  Hebrew  poetical  language,  which  is  con^ 
siderably  diiferent  from  the  prose.  ^'  In  the  habitation  of  dra- 
gons, where  each  lay^''  the  word  each  makes  the  passage  bald. 
*^  In  the  places  where  dragons  lay,  (or  lurked,)  shall  be  grass, 
&c."  In  die  eighth  verse,  likewise,  instead  of  "  but  it  shall  be 
for  those,"  ttie  original  points  out  a  glorious  thought  which  is 
ifoite  lost  in  the  version,  because  it.  follows  an  improper  division 
^f the  verse.  Dr.  Lowth^s  later  version,  which,  when  read,  seems 
to  speak  for  itself,  is  to  this  purpose :  ^'  The  unclean  shall  not 
pass  over  it ;  but  he  shall  walk  with  tliem  iu  it,  and  the  fool  (or 
the  weak)  shall  not  err  therein."  This  is  the  reason  why  no  lion 
^r  unclean  thing  shall  be  there,  and  why  the  weakest  of  his  people 
«hall  not  be  destroyed  or  wander  ;  because  he  (their  Gcd  and 
Saviour,  verse  4,)  shall  walk  with  them,  and  be  their  guard  and 
guide. 

However,  in  public  preaclung,  I  meddle  as  little  and  as  gently 
as  possible  with  these  differences.  I  sometimes  intimate  that  the 
words  will  bear  another  sense  ;  but  I  should  be  unwilling  to  make 
plain  people  suspect  their  bibles  are  not  right.  But  tliere  are  in- 
numerable places  in  the  prophets  which  are  capable  of  much  clear- 
er translation  than  what  they  have  at  present.  Let  me  add  one 
more,  Isa,  Ixii.  5.  Instead  of  '*  So  shall  thy  sons  marry  thee,"  it 
should  undoubtedly  be.  So  shall  thy  Maker  (or  Creator)  mar- 
ry thee^  agreeably  Xq  the  following  part  of  the  verse. 

Believe  me  to  be  affectionately  yours. 


Let.   ISJ  TO  T»E  M5V.  KB.   s****.  35*1 

LETTER  Xin. 

MarcR  11,  1778. 
My  Dear  Friend, 

I  HOPE  Mrs.  S****'s  cald  is  better,  and  the  cliildrcn's  com- 
plaints on  the  mending  band.  What  a  many  careful  hours  by 
day,  and  sleepless  hours  by^  night,  have  1  escaped  by  not  being  a 
parent  1  It  is  wellf  when  they  that  have  children,  and  they  that 
have  none,  are  alike  pleased  with  the  Lord's  appointment. 

1  had  no  dread  of  the  Fast-day  ;  for  whether  overtures  towards- 
peace  had  fteen  proposed  or  not  by  Lord  N****,  I  should  most, 
certainly  not  have  prayed  for  havock,  but  should,  both  in  prayer 
and  preaching,  have  expressed  my  desires  and  loBgings  for  a  stopi 
to  ttie  effusion  of  blood.  But  I  fear  we  are  not  yet  come  to  the 
crisis.  The  steps  now  taking  would,  humanly  speaking,  have- 
done  something  awhile  ago  ;  but  they  are  now  too  late,  and,  1 
think,  will  be  rejected.  But  J  know  not  the  Lord's  secret  wilh.. 
That  I  am  snre  willlake  place.  As  to  outward  appearances  and 
the  purposes  of  men,  pro  and  con,  I  pay  Kttle  regard  to  theor. 
Indeed,  they  are  no  more  stable  than  the  clond^  m  a  storm,  whicU 
Tary  tbeir  shape  every  moment.  It  is  enough  (or  us  that  the  Lord, 
reigns,  is  carrying  on  his  own  cause,  and  will  take  care  of  his. 
own  people.  The  best,  the  only  way  in  which  we  can  serve 
the  public,  is  by  praying  for  it,  and  mourning  for  those  sins 
which  have  given  rise  to  these  calamities.  Alas  i  what  signr- 
€es  one  day  of  humiliation  in  a  year.^  When  the  day  is  over,; 
every  thing  goes  on  just  as  it  did  before.  The  btisy  world,, 
the  gay  world,  and  the  religious  world,  are,  I  suppose,  much- 
the  same  since  the  fast  as  they  were  before  ft  ;  buying,  and  see- 
ing, eating  and  drinking,  dancing  and  playing— and  the  pro- 
fessing sheep  biting  and  tearing  each  other  like  wolves  ;  or  else 
Kke  decoy-ducks,  enticing  one  another  into  the  world's  snares. 
And  though  I  find  fault  with  others,  I  have  enough  to  look  upon 
at  home.  The  Lord  pardon  them  and  roe  also !  My  heart  is. 
deceitful  and  wicked ;  ray  services  poor  and  polluted,  my  sins  very 
many,  and  greatly  aggravated :  so  that  I  should  be  one  of  the 
fast  to  be  censorious.  And  yet  I  cannot  help  seeing  that  the 
profession  of  many  is  cold  where  it  should  be  warm,  and  only  warm- 
in  animosity  and  contention.  The  Lord  help*  us  !  for  wo  are  im 
u  woful  ease  as  a  people. 

I  am  sincerely  yoiirs> 


35^  TO  THE  RET.  MR.  9***^.  [L^t.  14« 

LETTER  XIV. 

September  4,  1778. 
My  Dear  Friend, 

Welcome  from  K— -^ .     I  hope  you  were  the  iDStrumem 

i)C  much  good  abroad,  and  brought  home  much  comfort  and  peace 
in  your  own  heart.  How  many  are  the  seen  and  the  unseen  mer- 
cies we  are  favoured  with  in  a  long  journey !  And  what  mercy  to 
fnid  Mrs.  S*^***  and  your  family  well  on  your  return,  as  I  hope 
you  did  ! 

Tl:e  same  good  Providence  which  has  preserved  jom  and  yours, 
has  taken  care  of  me  and  mine.  But  Mrs.  ****  has  been  some- 
times ill;  no  oftener  and  no  more  than  we  have  been  able  to 
bear,  or  than  the  Lord  saw  was  most  for  our  advantage.  After 
so  many  years'  experience  of  his  goodness,  we  surely  have  reason 
to  be  convinced  that  he  does  all  things  well.  At  present,  she  is 
loierably  well. 

We  are  his  sheep  ;  he  is  our  shepherd.  If  a  sheep  had  reason, 
and  were  sensible  of  its  own  state,  how  weak  to  withstand  the 
wolf,  how  prone  in  itself  to  wander,  how  utterly  unable  to  pro^ 
vide  for  its  own  subsistence  ;  it  could  have  no  comfort,  unless  it 
Icnew  that  it  was  under  the  care  of  a  shepherd  ;  and  in  proportion 
to  the  opinion  it  formed  of  the  shepherd's  watchfulness  and  suffi- 
ciency, such  would  be  its  confidence  and  peace.  But  if  you  could 
suppose  the  sheep  had  depravity  likewise,  then  it  would  act  as  we 
often  do ;  its  reason  would  degenerate  into  vain  reasoning,  it 
would  distrust  the  shepherd,  and  find  fault  with  his  management« 
It  would  burden  itself  with  contrivances  and  cares  ;  tremble  un- 
€\ev  the  thought  of  a  hard  winter,  and  never  be  easy  unless  it  was 
surrounded  with  hay-stacks.  It  would  study,  from  morning  till 
night,  where  to  hide  itself  out  of  the  wolfs  way.  Poor,  wise,  silly 
sheep  !  if  thou  hadst  not  a  shepherd,  all  thy  schemes  would  b^ 
fruitless ;  when  thou  hast  broken  thy  heart  ^vitb  care,  thott  art 
>:till  as  unable  to  preserve  thyself  as  thou  wast  before ;  and  if  thou 
hast  a  good  shepherd,  they  are  all  needless.  Is  it  not  sufficient 
th«at  ho  careth  for  thee? 

Thus  I  could  preach  to  such  a  sheep  as  I  have  supposed ;  and 
thus  I  try  to  preach  to  my  own  heart.  But  though  I  know  I  can- 
not, by  any  study  k>T  mine,  add  a  cubit  or  an  inch  to  my  stature,  I 
am  prone  to  puzxle  myself  about  twenty  things,  which  are  equally 
out  of  my  power  and  equally  unnecessary,  if  the  Lord  be  mv 
shepherd.  1  am  yours,  &c. 


Let.  15.]  TO  THC  REV.  MB.  s»»*».  35$ 

LETTER  XV. 

Kovtmber  4, 1778* 
Mt  Dear  Friend, 

Mr.  ****  told  me  on  Satarday,  that  when  he  left ^ 

you  and  two  of  your  children  were  ill  of  *  the  putrid  sore  throat : 
the  next  day  be  sent  me  word  that  you  were  better,  but  unable 
to  preach.  I  have  not  had  opportunity  of  writing  since  ;  but 
you  have  been  often  on  my  mind.  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  in- 
form me  soon,  that  the  Lord  has  caused  his  rainbow  to  appear 
in  this  dark  cloud,  and  that  you  and  Mrs.  ^^^^  found  him  a  pre- 
sent help  in  time  of  trouble.  The  disorder,  I  know,  is  very 
alarming,  and  the  event  fatal  in  many  instances.  It  would  have 
been  no  less  so  to  you,  if  it  had  received  commission  to  remove  yoo 
by  a  quick  passage  out  of  the  reach  of  sin  and  sorrow ;  but  I  hope 
your  work  is  not  yet  done ;  and  if  not,  I  know  the  most  danger- 
ous disease  cannot  affect  your  life.  Till  the  Lord's  purposes  by 
us  and  concerning  us  are  fulfilled,  we  are  in  perfect  safety,  though 
on  a  field  of  battle,  or  surrounded  by  the  pestilence,  i  trust  you 
will  be  spared  awhile  longer  to  your  Ikmily,  friends,  and  people. 
Upon  the  same  grounds,  if  either  of  your  children  should  be  re- 
inoved,  I  sh^il  not  so  directly  ascribe  it  to  the  illness,  as  to  the  will 
of  God  ;  for  if  upon  the  whole,  it  be  the  most  for  bis  glory,  and 
best  for  you,  they  likewise  shall  recover.  Should  be  appoint  oth- 
erwise, it  must  be  best,  because  be  does  it ;  and  a  glance  of  the 
light  of  his  countenance,  the  influence  of  that  grace  which  be  has 
prouaised  shall  be  afforded  according  to  our  day,  will  enable  you 
to  resign  them.  I  do  not  say  it  will  cost  you  no  pain,  but  in  de^ 
fiance  ofthe  feelings  of  flesh  and  blood,  you  will,  I  trust,  hold  no- 
thing so  dear  that  you  have  received  from  bim  as  to  be  unwilling 
to  return  it  into  bis  hands  wbea  he  is  pleased  to  call  for  it.  He 
will  help  you  to  remember  that  you  owe  htm  all ;  that  your  child- 
'reA  are  not  properly  your  own.  He  lent  them,  and  every  crea- 
tcire  comfort  you  enjoy,  and  has  a  right  to  resume  them.  We  do 
not  like  to  have  any  thing  forced  frOm  ns  which  is  our  own ;  but 
it  would  be  dishonest  in  us  to  want  to  keep  what  we  have  only 
borrowed,  if  the  right  owner  demands  it.  Further,  the  Lord  ig 
not  only  sovereign,  but  infinitely  wise  and  good  ;  and  therefore 
it  is  our  interest,  as  well  as  our  duty,  to  acquiesce  in  his  appoint- 
ments. Should  you  be  called  to  the  trial,  I  wish  you  the  same 
supports  and  the  same  submission  as  Mr.  ****  had  wben  he  part- 
ed with  his  little  one  lately  ;  and  as  you  have  the  same  God,  and 
tbe  same  promises,  I  hope  you  will.  Thus  much  upon  a  suppoM- 
tion  this  should  find  you  under  the  rod.  But  1  shall  be  glad  to 
Vol.  ly.  45 


354  TO   THC   RET.  MR.    B****.  [Let.    16. 

hear  that  the  merciful  Liord  has  healed  both  yoa  and  them,  and 
that  yon  are  now  feeling  the  fneaning  of  Psalm  ciii.  1 — ^5. 

Mrs.  N"^**)^*  has  been  favoured  with  a  comfortable  share  of 
health  since  she  was  at  Bedford  !  a  little  indisposed  now  and  then, 
but  slightly  and  soon  better.  The  many  attacks  she  has  bad  the 
last  two  years,  have  rendered  such  considerations  as  I  have  ofler- 
ed  to  you  familiar  to  my  thoughts ;  sometimes  I  have  felt  the  force 
of  them,  sometimes  they  all  seem  to  fail  me.  For  I  can  do  nothing, 
or  I  can  do  all  things ;  just  as  the  Lord  is  or  is  not,  present  with  me. 
In  my  judgment,  however,  I  am  satisfied  that  I  have  at  all  times 
great  cause  for  thankfulness,  and  at  no  time  any  just  reason  to 
complain,  for  I  am  a  sinner.     Believe  me  to  be 

Your  very  affectionate  friend  and  servant. 


LETTER  XVI. 

JVovember  18,  1778. 
Dear  Sf&, 

I  HAVE  observed  that  most  of  the  advantages  which  Satan  is 
recorded  to  have  gained  against  the  lord's  servants,  have  been 
after  great  and  signal  deliverances  and  favours  ;  as  in  the  cases 
of  Noah,  Lot,  David,  and  Hezekiah.  And  I  have  found  it  so 
repeatedly  in  my  own  experience.  How  often,  if  my  history  were 
written  by  an  inspired  pen,  might  this  proof  of  the  depravity  of 
my  heart  be  inserted  :  '*  But  John  Newton  rendered  not  again 
according  to  the  benefits  received  ;  for  his  heart  was  lifted  up." 
May  it  be  far  otherwise  with  you.  May  you  come  out  of  the  fur* 
nace  refined  ;  and  may  it  appear  to  yomrself  and  all  around  you, 
that  the  Lord  has  done  you  good  by  your  afilictions.  Thus  vile 
are  our  natures ;  to  be  capable  of  making  the  Lord  such  perverse 
returns  as  we  often  do  !  How  should  we  bhish  if  our  earthly 
friends  and  benefactors  could  bring  such  charges  of  ingratitude 
against  us,  as  he  justly  might.  No ;  they  could  not  bear  a  thou- 
sandth part ;  the  dearest  and  kindest  of  them  would  have  been 
weary  of  us,  and  cast  us  off  long  ago,  had  we  behaved  so  to  them. 
We  may  well  say,  Who  is  a  God  like  unto  Thee,  that  pardonest 
iniquity,  and  passest  by  the  transgression  of  the  remnant  of  thine 
heritage.  It  seems  that  the  prophet  selects  the  Lord's  patience 
..towards  his  own  people,  as  the  most  astonishing  of  all  his  perfec- 
tions, and  that  which  eminently  distinguishes  him  from  all  other 
beings.  And,  indeed,  the  sins  of  believers  are  attended  with  ag- 
gravations peculiar  to  themselves.  The  inhabititants,  of  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah  were  great  sinners,   but  they  did  not  sin  against 


Lee.  17.]  TO  THE   RSV.   MR.  $•*•*.  366 

light,  and  love,  and  experience*  Pharaoh  was  proud,  but  he  had 
not  been  humbled  at  ttie  foot  of  the  cross.  Ahab  killed  Naboth 
for  his  vineyard,  but  not  altogether  so  basely  as  David  killed  Uriah 
for  his  wife.  I  see  many  profligate  sinners  around  me,  but  the 
Lord  has  not  followed  them  with  mercies,  instructions,  and  par* 
dons,  as  he  has  followed  me.  My  outward  life,  through  mercy,  is 
not  like  theirs  ;  but  if  the  secrets  of  my  heart  were  laW  of^en,  they' 
who  are  favourable  to  me,  would  not  think  me  much  better  than 
the  worst  of  them.  Especially  at  some  times  and  seasons,  since  I 
first  tasted  that  he  was  gracious.  And  yet  he  has  borne  with  me, 
and  is  pleased  to  say,  He  will  never  leave  me  iior  forsake  m6. 

Well,  when  we  have  said  all  we  can  of  the  aboundingsof  sin  in 
us,  grace  still  more  abounds  in  Jesus.  We  cannot  be  so  evil  as 
he  is  ^ood.  His  power  is  a  good'  match  for  our  weakness  ;  his 
riches  lor  our  poverty  ;  his  mercy  for  our  misery.  We  are  vile  in 
ourselves,  but  we  are  complete  in  him.  In  ourselves  we  have 
cause  to  be  abased,  but  in  him  we  may  rejoice.  Blessed  be  God 
for  Jesus  Christ. 

1  am  sincerely  yours. 


LETTER  XVII. 

December  20,  1780. 
My  Dear  Friend, 

So  it  seems  I  owed  the  letter,  and  charged  the  fault  of  not 
writing,  to  you.  It  must  be  so,  because  you  say  you  are  very  cer- 
tain it  was  so.  Remember,  however,  I  am  writing  last  now*  I 
hope  when  this  comes,  it  will  find  you  and  yours  comfortable,  and 
your  heart  and  mouth  full  of  eratitude  to  Him  who  crowneth  the 
year  with  his  goodness.  Well,  these  returning  years  each  bear 
away  a  large  portion  of  our  time,  and  the  last  year  cannot  be  far 
ofil  O  that  precious  name  which  can  enable  a  sinner  to  think  of 
bis  last  year  and  his  last  hour  without  dismay  !  What  do  we  owe 
to  him  who  has  disarmed  death  of  its  sting  and  horrors,  and  shown 
us  the  land  of  li^bt  and  immortality  beyond  the  grave  ! 

May  he  be  with  us  in  the  new  year.  Yea,  he  has  promised  he 
will,  even  unto  death.  Therefore,  though  we  know  not  what  a  dav 
may  bring  forth,  we  i^ed  fear  no  evil  *,  for  he  knows  all,  and  will 
provide  accordingly.  O,  what  a  relief  is  it,  to  be  enabled  to  cast 
every  care  and  bunlen  upon  him  who  careth  for  us  !  Though  the 
night  should  be  dark,  the  storm  loud,  and  the  billows  high,  the  in- 
fallible Pilot  will  steer  our  barks  safely  through. 

This  has  been  an  important  year  with  me,  it  has  introduced  me 
into  an  entire  new  scene  of  service ;  and  it  has  likewise  seemed  a 


356  TO  TH£  EXV.  ME*  8****.  [Let.  18. 

very  short  year.  O,  bow  the  weeks  bare  whirled  round!  It  has 
not  been  without  its  trials ;  but  comforts  have  much  more  abound* 
ed.  With  respect  to  my  public  work,  I  have  been  much  fiaivoured 
with  liberty,  peace,  and  acceptance.  I  hope  it  has  not  been  wholly 
a  lost  year ;  though  with  respect  to  my  part  and  share  of  it,  I  have 
reason  to  say,  Enter  not  into  judgment  with  thy  servant. 

Let  u^  help  each  other  with^our  prayers,  that  the  little  uncer- 
tain remainder  of  hfe  may  be  filled  up  to  the  praise  of  our  dear 
Lord  ;  that  we  may  be  united  to  his  will,  conformed  to  his  image, 
and  devoted  to  his  service.  Thus  we  shall  show  forth  his  praise ; 
if  we  aim  to  walk  as  he  walked,  and,  by  a  sweet  constraining  sense 
of  his  love,  are  formed  into  an  habitual  imitation  of  his  spirit  and 
temper,  in  meekness,  integrity,  benevolence  towards  men  ;  in  hu- 
mility, dependence,  resignation,  confidence,  and  gratitude  towards 
him. 

I  pity  such  wise*headed  Calvinists  as  you  speak  of.  I  am  afraid 
there  ai^e  no  people  more  fully  answer  the  character,  and  live  in 
the  spirit  of  the  pharisees  of  old,  than  some  professed  loud  stick- 
lers tor  free  erace.  Thev  are  wise  in  their  own  eyes  ;  their  no- 
tions, whioh  the  pride  of  their  hearts  tells  them  are  so  bright  and 
clear,  serve  them  for  a  righteousness,  and  they  trust  in  themselves 
and  despise  others.  One  modest,  inquiring  Arminian  is  worth  a 
thousand  such  Calvinists,  in  my  esteem.  You  will  do  well  to 
preach  quietly  in  your  own  way,  not  minding  what  others  say  while 
your  own  conscience  testifies  that  you  preach  the  truth.  If  you.- 
are  travelling  the  right  road,  (to  London,  for  instance,)  thou^* 
fifty  people  should  meet  you  and  say  you  are  wrong,  you,  know- 
ing you  are  right,  need  not  mind  them.  But,  alas  !  the  spirit  of 
self,  which  makes  us  unwilling  to  hear  of  contradiction,  is  not 
easily  subdued. 

I  am  yours. 


LETTER  XVni. 

March  29,  ilSl. 
Dear  Sir, 

It  is  certain  I  did  not  wish  to  leave ,  and  Ukewise 

that  if  the  Lord  had  left  me  to  choose  mv  situation,  London  woul4 
have  been  almost  the  last  place  I  shoulcl  have  chosen.  But  since 
it  was  the  Lord's  choice  for  me,  I  am  reconciled  and  satisfied* 
He  has,  in  this  respect,  given  me  another  heart ;  for,  now  I  am 
fixed  here,  I  seem  to  prefer  it.  My  sphere  of  service  is  extremely 
enlarged,  and  my  sphere  of  usefulness  likewise.  And  not  being 
under  any  attachment  to  systems  and  parties,  I  am  so  for  suited  to 


% 


Lei.  18.]  TO  THK  REV.  MB.  s<»*»-  357 

my  situation.  Mv  hearers  are  made  up  of  all  sorts,  and  my  con* 
nexioDS  are  of  all  sorts  likewise  ;  I  mean  of  those  who  hold  the 
head.  My  inclination  and  turn  leads  me  chiefly  to  insist  on  those 
things  in  which  all  who  are  taught  of  God  agree.  And  rov  en- 
deavour is  to  persuade  them  to  love  one  another,  to  bear  with  one 
another,  to  avoid  disputes,  and  if  they  must  strive,  to  let  their  strife 
and  emulation  be,  who  shall  most  express  the  life  of  the  Son  of 
God  in  their  temper  and  conduct. 

I  preach  my  own  sentiments  plainly,  but  peaceably,  and  directlv 
oppose  no  one.  Accordingly,  Churchmen  and  Dissenters,  Cal- 
vinists  and  Armenians,  Methodists  and  Moravians,  now  and  then  I 
believe,  Papists  and  Quakers,  sit  quietly  to  hear  me.  I  can 
readily  adopt  No  Popery,  for  my  motto  ;  but  Popery  with  me  has 
a  very  extensive  sense.  I  disliKe  it,  whether  it  be  on  a  throne,  as 
at  Rome,  or  upon  a  bench,  or  at  a  l^oard^  as  sometimes  in  London, 
Whoever  wants  to  confine  me  to  follow  his  sentiments,  whether  as 
to  doctrine  or  order,  is  so  far  a  Papist.  Whoever  encourages  me 
to  read  the  Scriptures  and  to  pray  for  the  teaching  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  and  then  will  let  me  follow  the  light  the  Lord  gives  me, 
without  being  angry  with  me  because  I  cannot  or  will  not  see  with 
his  eyes,  nor  wear  his  shoes,  is  a  consistent  protestant.  The  de* 
pravity  of  human  nature,  the  Peity  of  the  Saviour,  the  influences 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  a  separation  from  the  world,  and  a  devotedncss 
to  God,  these  are  principles  which  I  deem  fundamental.  And 
though  I  would  love  and  serve  all  mankind,  I  can  have  no  reli-* 
gious  union  or  communion  with  those  who  deny  them.  But  whether 
a  surplice  or  a  band  be  the  fittest  distinction  of  a  minister,  whether 
be  be  best  ordained  by  the  laving  on^  or  the  holding  up  of  hands ; 
whether  water-baptism  sbouid  be  administered  by  a  spoonful  or 
tub-fui,  or  in  a  river,  in  any  river,  or  in  Jordan,  (as  Constantine 
thought,)  are  to  me  points  ot  no  great  importance.  I  will  go  fur- 
ther— though  a  man  does  not  accord  with  my  views  of  election, 
yet  if  he  gives  me  good  evidence  that  he  is  effectually  called  of 
Oody  he  is  my  brother  :  though  he  seems  afiraid  of  the  doctrine  of 
final  perseverance  ;  yet  if  grace  enables  him  to  persevere,  he  is  my 
brother  still.  If  he  loves  Jesus,  I  will  love  him,  whatever  hard 
name  he  may  be  called  by,  and  whatever  incidental  mistakes  I  may 
think  he  holds.  His  dinering  from  me  will  not  always  prove  him 
to  be  wrong,  except  I  am  infallible  myself. 

I  praise  the  Lord  for  preserving  you  fl-om  harm  when  you  fell ; 
I  have  had  such  falls  from  horses,  and  received  no  hurt.  When  I 
dislocated  my  shoulder,  I  was  at  my  own  door,  and  in  the  greatest 
apparent  safety.  But  we  are  only  safe  naturally  or  spiritually 
while  the  Lord  holds  us  up. 

lamyours,  &c» 


4. 


OUR  L.E'TTERS 

TO 

MISS  W**»*. 


LETTER  I. 

March  3,  1772. 

IbcAR   Miss, 

Your  obliging  request  to  hear  from  me  has  not  been  forgot- 
ten ;  and  if  my  leisure  were  equal  to  my  ioclination,  I  should 
write  very  often. 

And  now,  what  shaH  I  say  }  May  the  Lord  direct  me  to  send 
you  a  profitable  word.  It  rejoices  my  heart  to  think,  that  at  a 
time  of  life  when  you  might  have  been  plunging  into  the  vanities 
of  the  world,  you  are  seeking  Jesus.  The  Lord,  who  appointed 
the  hour  of  your  birth,  and  the  bounds  of  your  habitation,  was 
plefiised,  in  his  good  providence,  to  withdraw  you  early  from  the 
giddy  circle  of  dissipation  in  which  you  might  have  lived,  and  to 
favour  you  with  the  advantages  of  example,  instruction,  and  or- 
dinances. You  live  at  a  distance  from  those  ensnaring  tempta- 
tions by  which  the  mind  of  young  persons  are  blinded  and  stupifi- 
ed.  Yet  this  alone  would  not  have  secured  you.  His  providence 
has  been  subservient  to  his  grace  ;  otherwise,  by  this  time,  you 
would  have  been  weary  and  impatient  of  restraint ;  you  wonld 
have  accounted  the  means  of  grace  burthensome,  and  your  borne 
a  prison.  The  evil  of  the  heart  is  too  deeply  rooted  to  be  over- 
come by  any  thing  less  than  the  power  of  God.  Whatever  your 
papa  and  mamma,  or  the  ministers  of  the  Gospel,  could  have  told 
you  concerning  your  state  as  a  sinner,  and  your  need  of  a  Saviour, 
you  would  not  have  believed  them,  if  the  Lord  himself  had 
not  borne  witness  in  your  heart  to  his  own  truths.  You  are  now 
seeking  him  that  you  may  find  him,  yet  if  be  had  not  found  you 
at  first,  you  would  never  have  sought  him  at  all.  This  I  mention 
for  your  encouragement,  as  a  good  reason  why  you  may  be  as- 
sured that  you  shall  not  seek  him  in  vain.  I  take  it  for  granted, 
that  though  you  are  but  a  young  soldier,  you  have  already  met 
with  conflicts.  There  is  a  subtle  enemy  who  labours  to  distress, 
hinder,  and   wound  all  who  desire  to  serve  the  Lord.     If  you 


Ijct.  1.]  TO  HISS  w****.  a59 

could  give  up  this  parpose,  and  be  content  to  make  the  world 
yonr  portioa,  you  woold  meet  with  no  disturbance  from  him  !  if 
you  were  asleep,  he  would  make  no  noise  to  awaken  you.  Those 
who  are  content  with  his  service  and  wages,  he  manages  with  so 
much  address,  that  though  he  leads  them  captives  at  his  will, 
though  he  dwells  and  works  in  their  hearts,  though  all  the  facul* 
ties  of  their  mind  and  members  of  their  body  are  under  his 
influence,  yet  they  are  not  at  all  aware  of  him  ;  yea,  when  many 
in  this  state  pretend  to  dispute  his  very  existence,  he  does  not  at- 
tempt to  undeceive  them.  Thus,  while  the  strong  one  armed 
keeps  his  house,  his  goods  are  in  peace  ;  but  when  the  stronger 
than  he,  the  gracious  Redeemer,  come.$  to  deliver  the  prey  out  of 
the  hand  of  the  mighty,  and  to  release  a  soul  from  Satan's  cap- 
tivity,' then  the  enemy  begins  to  show  himself  as  he  is  :  and  there- 
fore I  suppose  by  this  time  you  can  tell,  in  a  measure,  from. your 
own  experience,  why  he  is  called  in  the  Scripture,  an  accuser,  an 
adversary,  serpent,  a  roaring  lion  ;  and  what  is  meaiit'by  his 
wiles,  devices,  and  fiery  darts.  He  knows  how  to  aggravate  sin, 
to  strengthen  unbelief,  to  raise  objections  against  the  truth  of  the 
Gospel,  or  to  work  upon  the  imagination,  and  to  fill  us  with  dark, 
uncomfortable,  wild,  or  wicked  thoughts.  But  if  he  assaults  you 
in  any  of  these  ways,  you  need  not  fear  him  ;  for  he  is  a  conquer- 
ed and  a  chained  enemy  :  Jesus  has  conquered  him,  he  has  brok- 
en bis  power,  aud  taken  away  his  dominions,  so  far  as  concerns 
tbT>se  who  flee  for  refuge  to  the  hope  of  the  Gospel.  And  Jesus 
holds  him  in  a  ohain,  and  set  limits  to  his  rage  and  malice,  be- 
yond which  he  cannot  pass.  Nor  should  he  be  permitted  to  open 
bis  mouth  against  the  peace  of  his  people,  but  that  the  Lord  in- 
tends, (for  his  greater  confusion,)  to  make  him  an  onwiUing  in- 
strument of  pi;omoting  their  good.  By  these  exercises  they  learn 
to  prize  his  free  salvation,  and  to  depend  upon  his  grace  alone  $ 
for  they  find  they  are  not  able  to  stand  against  their  enemy  by 
their  own.  strength.  Tiierefore,  fear  him  pot ;  he  who  delivered 
Daniel  from  the  lions  will  deliver  you,  make  yog  more  than  con- 
queror by  faith  in  his  name,  and  at  last  bruise  Satan  under  your 
feet. 

I  wonder  how  my  thoughts  have  turned  upon  this  subject.  I  am 
sure  I  did  not  intend  it  when  I  sat  down  to  write,  and  if  I  had  stu- 
died for  one,  I  certainly  should  not  have  chosen  this.  If  it  should 
prove  a  word  in  season,  I  shall  be  glad.  Perhaps  it  may  ;  for 
though  I  know  not  the  present  state  of  your  mind,  it  is  known  to 
the  Lford,  and  I  began  my  letter  with  a  desire  that  he  would  direct 
loe  wl^at  to  send  you.     However,  if  it  does  not  so  directly  suit 

Jfou  now,  it  may  perhaps  hereafter,  and  in  the  itiean  time  you  may 
end  it  to  your  mamma.    She  knows  what  temptations  mean* 


376  TO  THE  REV.  MB.  8*««f .  [Liet.  4, 

necessarily  lie  in  my  way.  I  believe  most  persons  who  are  truly 
alive  to  God,  sooner  or  later  meet  wilhsome  pinches  in  their  expe- 
rience which  constrain  them  to  flee  to  those  doctrines  for  relief, 
which  perhaps  they  had  formerly  dreaded,  if  not  abhorred,  because 
they  knew  not  how  to  get  over  some  harsh  consequences  they 
thought  necessarily  resulting  from  them,  or  because  they  were 
stumbled  by  the  miscarriages  of  those  who  professed  them.  In 
this  way  1  was  made  a  Calvinist  ntyself ;  and  I  am  content  to  let 
the  Lord  take  his  own  way,  and  his  own  time,  with  others. 

I  remember  to  have  seen  a  letter  from  you  to  Mr.  **♦*,  but  I 
can  recollect  nothing  in  particular  of  the  subject :  but  I  suppose  if 
I  had  disliked  it,  or  received  any  unfavourable  impressions  from  it, 
some  traces  of  it  would  have  still  remained  in  my  memory.  From 
what  I  have  written  above,  and  from  the  beginning  of  Omicron's 
ninth  letter,  (which  was  written  io  answer  to  one  from  Mr.  ****,) 
I  hope  you  will  believe  that  I  should  be  much  more  likel3^to  blame 
his  forwardness  in  giving  the  challenge,  than  your  prudence  in  de- 
clining. I  trust  ****  means  well ;  but,  as  you  say,  Ac  is  youngs 
and  I  Know  not  but  the  kind  reception  he  met  with  in  Yorkshire 
might  send  him  home  with  a  greater  idea  of  his  own  importance 
than  he  carried  with  him  from  hence.  I  suppose  it  was  just  about 
that  time,  when  his  spirit  was  a  little  raisea,  that  he  wrote  to  you. 
Young  men  often  make  mistakes  of  this  kind.  The  Lord's  bles- 
sing upon  years,  experience,  and  inward  exercises,  cures  them  of 
it  by  degrees,  or  at  least  in  a  degree  ;  for,  alas  !  tlic  root  of  self 
Jies  deep,  and  is  not  easily  eradicated. 

We  were  very  glad  to  hear  that  Mrs.  S****  was  likely  to  do 
well  after  her  delivery.  I  hope,  if  the  Lord  spares  ihe  child  to 
you,  he  will  be  numbered  among  the  children  of  his  grace.  If  he 
call  him  home  by  a  short  passage,  he  will  escape  a  number  of 
£torms  and  troubles  incident  to  human  life.  I  know  not  how  to 
regret  the  death  of  infants,  especially  under  the  dark  ap|)rehen- 
sions  I  have  of  the  times.  How  do  they  appear  to  you  ?  The 
prevalence  of  sin,  and  the  contempt  of  the  Gospel,  in  this  long* 
favoured  land,  make  me  apprehensive  that  the  present  commo- 
tions are  but  the  beginning  of  sorrows.  Since  we  heard  of  the 
commencement  of  hostilities  in  America,  we  have  had  a  prayer- 
meeting  extraordinary,  on  a  national  account.  It  is  held  on  Tues- 
day morning,  weekly,  at  five  o'clock,  and  is  well  attended.  We 
are  not  politicians  at  '  ;  but  we  wish  to  be  found  among 

those  described,  Ezek.  ix.  4.  We  pray  for  the  restoration  o( 
peace,  and  a  blessing  upon  our  public  councils. 

1  am  your  affectioAate  and  obliged^ 


Let.   6.]  TO  THE   REV.   ftB.    8****.  377 

LETTER  V. 

September  3,  1776. 
My  Djsar  Sir, 

If  1  were  disposed  to  make  you  wait  as  long  for  my  letter  a$ 
1  did  for  yours,  you  have  taken  an  effectual  method  to  prevent  me. 
1  have  now  daily  a  monitor  at  my  elbow,  saying,  when  will  you 
write  to  Mp.  ****  ?  If  I  answer,  "before  very  long,H  the  reply  is, 
^^  Nay.  it  must  be  very  soon,  for  he  does  not  Know  whither  to  send 
the  flowers,  and  it  is  high  time  he  did.'^  Thus  I  am  likewise  pre- 
cluded from  making  any  merit  of  writing  so  speedily,  notwithstand- 
ing your  long  silence  ;  for  you  may  be  ready  to  think,  <^  I  should 
not  have  heard  from  him  these  two  months,  if  JWrs.  ****  had  not 
wanted  the  flowers.^'  However,  to  be  even  with  you,  I  shall  beg 
the  favour  of  a  letter  from  you  a  post  or  two  before  you  send  them, 
to  prevent,  (if  necessarv,)  by  a  timely  inquiry,  such  a  sorrowful 
disappointment  as  we  bad  last  year,  and  I  promise,  in  return, 
not  to  over-l^te  your  punctuality  in  writing  so  soon,  but  to  con- 
sider it  as  an  occasional  favour,  which  I  must  not  often  expect ; 
but  owing  to  the  importance  of  the  flowers,  and  vour  kind  readi- 
ness to  oblige  her.  Sic  vos  nan  vobis.  So  much  for  a  business, 
in  which  for  want  of  taste,  I  have  no  great  personal  interest  my- 
self. But  let  not  this  discourage  you  ;  for  though  a  violet  or  a 
cowslip  pleases  me  almost  as  much  as  any  of  the  pompous  or 
high-sounding  words  of  the  parterre,  Mr.  ****,  Mrs.  ****,  and 
Mrs.  ****j  are  suflicienlly  qualified  to  congratulate  your  skill  and 
felicity  as  a  florist. 

After  all,  1  acknowledge  flowers  l^ve  their  value  :  they  are  very 
beautiful,  and  therefore  pleasing  ;  they  are  very  transitory,  and 
therefore  instructive.  All  flesh  is  grass,  and  all  the  glory  of  man 
as  the  flower  ;  the  flower  is  more  conspicuous  and  beautiful  than 
the  grass,  but  likewise  more  precarious  and  liable  to  fade.  Min- 
isters, some  of  them  at  least,  nave  a  beauty  beyond  the  grass,  the 
bulk  of  their  hearers.  They  are  adorned  with  gifts  and  advanta- 
ges of  knowledge  and  expression  which  distinguish  them  for  a 
time  ;  but  the  flower  fadcth.  How  precarious  are  those  distinc- 
tions for  which  some  admire  them,  and  for  which  they  are  in  dan- 
ger sometimes  of  admiring  themselves !  A  fever,  or  a  small  change 
in  the  animal  system,  may  deprive  them,  of  their  abilities;  aa^ 
.while  they  remain,  a  thousand  things  may  happen  to  prevent  the^ 
exercise.  Happy  are  those  wise  and  faithful  stewards,  who  know' 
and  approve  their  talents  while  afforded,  who  work  while  i^s  day, 
aware  how  soon,  how  suddenly,  a  night  may  overtake  them* 
They  may  be  hastily  removed,  cut  down  bv  the  scythe  of  death ; 
or,  as  the  stalk  remains  alter  the  flower  is  faded,  they  may  outlive 

Vol.  IV.  48 


sin  to  THE  nxf.  MR.  8*M«*  [Let.  6. 

Aeir  atefalness,  and  then  the  poet's  words  may  he  appKed  to  the 
toost  accomplished  instrament — 

Stat  MagDi  nomlois  umbia. 

However,  the  trae  servants  of  the  Lord  have  something  that  will 
not  decay.  Grace  is  of  an  abiding  nature,  and  will  remain  when 
the  gifts  of  knowledge  and  elocution  are  withered*  We  know  not 
what  changes  we  may  live  to  see  ;  but  the  love  and  promises, 
which  are  the  pleasing  subjects  of  our  ministry,  are  unchangeable. 
It  gives  me  much  pleasure  that  we  are  remembered  by  you  and 
your  friends ;  for  then,  I  hope,  you  pray  for  us.  We  are  like- 
wise mindful  of  you.  Though  absent  in  body,  I  am  oflen  pres- 
ent with  you  in  spirit.  Saturday  evening,  in  particular,  is  a  time 
when,  if  I  am  not  prevented,  my  mind  travels  round  the  land  to 

visit  the  brethren,  and  I  seldom  miss  taking  H in  my  way. 

The  ignorance  of  the  common  people  is  indeed  lamentable  ; 
we  have  affecting  instances  of  it  even  here,  where  there  has  been 
no  sound  but  the  Gospel  heard,  from  the  pulpits  of  either  church 
or  meeting,  for  many  years.  YoU  ask  what  I  think  the  best 
method  of  removing  it.  I  know  no  better,  no  other,  than  to  go 
on  praying,  preaching,  and  waiting.  When  we  have  toiled  all 
night,  and  have  taken  nothing,  we  have  still  encouragement  to 
cast  the  net  again.  It  must,  it  will  be  s^  till  the  Lord  opens  the 
understanding,  then  light  shines  out  of  darkness  in  a  moment* 
Should  this  ignorance  be  so  far  removed  from  the  head,  that  peo- 
ple can  form  tolerable  notions  of  the  truths  we  preach,  there  is 
but  little  real  advantage  gained,  unless  the  heart  be  changed  by 
divine  power.  But  the  montent  the  heart  is  touched,  they  will 
begin  to  know  to  purpose.  A  woman  who  had  heard  me  for 
years,  went  home  one  day,  and  expressed  a  pleasing  surprise  that 
I  had  entirely  changed  my  manner  of  preaching.  ''  Till  now,'' 
said  she,  ''  I  have  often  listened  with  attention,  but  could  never 
make  out  any  thing  of  his  meaning  !  but  this  afternoon  he  preach- 
ed so  plainly,  that  I  understood  every  word."  The  Lord  had 
opened  her  heart  so  suddenly,  and  yet  so  gently,  that  at  first  she 
thought  the  change  was  not  in  herself,  but  in  me.  It  is  well  that 
he  is  pleased  so  to  work,  that  we  should  have  no  pretence  for  as- 
|Mmingany  thing  to  ourselves.  He  lets  us  try  and  try  again,  to 
xonvince  us  that  we  can  do  nothing  of  ourselves  ;  and  then,  often 
when  we  give  up  the  case  as  desperate,  he  comes  and  does  all. 

Do  i^ot  you  feel  something  of  1  Sam.  iv.  13.  in  this  dark  day  ? 
I  am  not  a  politician,  much  less  an  American ;  but  I  fear  the  Lord 
has  a  controversy  with  us.  I  cannot  but  tremble  at  the  conse- 
quences of  our  present  disputed,  and  lest  the  disappointment  our 


heL  6.  j  TO   THE  BST.   MIL    8****.  379 

forces  met  with  at  Charlestown  should  be  the  prelude  to  some 
more  importaot*  miscarriage.  The  plans  of  our  operations  may, 
for  aught  I  know,  be  well  laid,  according  to  human  wisdom,  and 
our  generals  and  admirals  well  Qualified  and  supported  to  carry  them 
into  execution;  but  I  am  afraia  the  Lord  God  of  Hosts  is  but  lit- 
tle acknowledged  or  thought  of  in  our  councils,  fleets,  or  armies* 
1  see  the  nation,  in  general,  hardened  into  that  spirit  of  insensibil- 
ity and  blind'  security,  which  in  all  former  ages  and  nations  has 
been  the  token  aad  forerunner  of  judgment ;  and  therefore  I  lay 
but  litde  stress  upon  the  wisdom  of  the  wise,  or  the  prowess  of  the 
valiant.  I  think  if  our  sins  were  not  ripe  for  visitation,  the  Lord 
would  have  prevented  thines  from  coming  to  the  present  extremi- 
ties. I  should  have  better  iiope,  if  I  saw  his  own  people  duly  imr 
pressed  with  the  present  awtul  appearances;  but,  alas!  I  fear 
that  too  many  of  the  wise  virgins  are  slumbering,  if  not  asleep,  at 
such  a  time  as  this !  May  the  Lord  pour  out  upon  us  a  spint  of 
humiliation  and  prayer,  that  we  fliay  prevail,  if  possible,  for  our 
country ;  or  if  wrath  be  decreed,  and  there  be  no  remedy,  we  may 
have  our  hearts  kept  in  peace,  and  find  him  a  sure  sanctuary  for 
ourselves.  Two  texts  seem  especially  suited  for  our  meditatioo, 
Luke  xxi.  34 — 36.  Rev.  iii.  10. 

I  trust  the  Lord  will  reconcile  you  to  his  will,  if  he  removes 
your  sister.  He  is  all-sufficient  to  make  up  every  loss;  and,  in- 
deed, it  is  wrong  to  grieve  much  for  them  who  are  called  away 
from  sin  and  sorrow  to  perfect  and  endless  happiness. 

I  have  had  an  excrescence  growing  on  my  thigh  sixteen  years ; 
it  is  now  threatening  to  get  bigger,  and  therefore  I  expect  soon  to 
go  to  London  to  have  it  eradicated.  It  is  notpainful,  and  the  sur- 
geon tells  me  the  operation  will  be  neither  difficult  nor  dangerous ; 
•nly  1  must  keep  the  house  for  some  weeks  till  the  wound  be  bealcd. 

I  am  3incerely  yours. 


LETTER  VL 


Mr  Dear  Sir, 
Ir  you  think  proper  to  furnish  an  article  for  the  York  Courant^ 


eral  other  illustrious  names,  arrived  at  — — .  They  traveled 
in  disguise,  or,  as  we  say,  incognito  ;  but  it  is  thought  and  hoped, 
they  will  appear  in  their  best  robes  before  they  leave  the  place; 
to  which  they  already  discover  so  strong  an  attachment,  that  they 
^are,  in  a  mannert  rooted  to  it.    Yon  may  furthir  ^tdd,  tbal^tke 


380  TO  THB  REV.   MR.    S****.  [Lct.  S. 

same  aflernoon  in  aforesaid,  a  comet  and  eclipse  \?ere 

both  visible  at  the  same  time.  I  could  enlarge  in  a  marvellous 
strain,  but  perhaps  this  is  a  qtuintum  sufficii;  mil  as  much  at  once 
as  will  gain  credit  in  a  newspaper, 

Mrs.  ****  returns  you  thanks  for  your  present  and  your  care- 

And  we  both  wish  that  what  flourishes  at  H may  flourish 

at  Olney.  What  avails  it  for  a  flower,  or  a  man  or  woman,  to 
bear  a  good  name,  if  degenerated  from  the  characteristic  excel- 
lences which  the  name  imports  ?  A  tulip  that  has  lost  its  colours, 
a  shrivelled,  deformed,  irregular  carnation,  would  not  long  pre* 
serve  their  places  in  your  parterre ;  much  less  could  you  suffer 
weeds  to  rear  their  tawdrv  heads  among  your  choice  flowers. — 
But,  alas !  how  is  the  Lord's  garden,  the  professing  church,  over- 
run !  Almost  every  lily  grows  among  thorns  or  baleful  plants, 
which  convert  all  the  nourishment  they  draw  from  the  soil  into 
poison.  A  time  is  coming  when  all  that  he  hath  not  planted  shall 
be  rooted  up*  May  we,  as  under-gardeners,  be  furnished  with 
grace,  wisdom,  and  diligence  to  detect,  and,  as  much  as  possible, 
to  check  every  root  of  bitterness  that  would  spring  up,  both  in  the 
plantation  at  large,  and  in  our  own  hearts. 

I  am,  like  your  flowers,  getting  apace  into  an  autumn  state. — 
The  Lord  grant  I  may  find  the  declension  of  vigour,  which  I  must 
soon  expect  to  feel,  balanced  by  a  ripeness  in  judgment  and  expe- 
rience as  you  speak.  If  it  be  so  with  me,  it  is  in  a  great  measure 
bidden  from  me.  To  be  sure,  1  have  had  more  proofs  of  an  evil 
nature  and  deceitful  heart  than  I  could  possibly  expect  or  con- 
ceive of  twentv  vears  ago ;  though  I  then  thought  I  found  as  much 
of  it  as  I  could  bear.  I  believe,  likewise,  my  understanding  is 
more  enlightened  into  the  three  great  mysterii^s  of  the  person,  love, 
and  life  oi  Jesus.  Yet  I  seem  to  groan  under  darkness,  coldness, 
and  confusion,  as  much  as  ever.  And  I  believe  I  must  go  out  of 
the  world  with  the  same  language  upon  my  lips  which  I  used 
when  I  first  ventured  to  a  throne  of  grace — Have  mercy  upon  me, 
O  Lord,  a  poor  worthless  sinner.  My  feelings  are  faint ;  my  ser- 
vices feeble  and  defiled ;  my  defects,  mistakes,  and  omissions  in- 
numerable ;  my  imaginations  are  wild  as  the  clouds  in  a  storm  ^ 
yea,  too  often  foul  as  a  common  sewer.  .What  can  I  set  again^ 
this  mournful  confessien  ?  Only  this— that  Christ  hath  died  and 
is  risen  again ;  I  believe  he  is  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost,  and 
he  hath  said,  "  Whosoever  cometh  unto  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast 
out."  Upon  his  person,  worth,  and  promise,  rests  all  my  hope^- 
but  this  is  a  foundation  able  to  bear  the  greatest  weight. 

I  am  your  sincerely  affectionate  and  obliged. 


TWENTY-ONE  LETTERS 

TO 

MISS  ****. 


LETTER  I. 

Olney,  September  8^  1779. 
My  Dear  Child,  ^ 

I  WAS  glad  of  your  letter,  for  we  weve  just  thinking  of  you,  as 
it  seems  you  were  of  us,  that  it  was  a  long  time  since  we  heard 
from  you.  When  you  want  a  letter  from  me,  you  must  write ;  if  I 
send  you  ene  for  one,  I  think  it  will  be  pretty  well. 

R*****  died  about  a  fortnight  ago,  and  I  buned  him  and  three 
others  within  a  week.  All  four  were  rather  young  people,  |that 
is,  about  thirty  years  of  age.  Last  Sunday  evening  1  preached  a 
funeral  sermon  for  Richara;  the  text  was  Gen.  xfix.  19.  That 
short  verse  contained  bis  history ;  and  I  hope  it  contains  yours 
likewise.  The  first  part  is  sure  to  you  if  you  live;  vou  will  meet 
with  many  troops,  sins,  fears,  cares,  and  troubles,  which  will  fight 
against  you,  and'seem,  at  times,  almost  to  overcome  you;  yea, 
overcome  yoa  they  certainly  would,  if  you  were  to  fight  them  in 
your  own  strength.  If  you  should  not  seek  and  love  the  Lord  Je- 
sus, you  would  -be  destroyed  by  them.  But  I  cannot  bear  to  en- 
tertain siich  a  thought ;  surely  you  must,  you  will  love  him.  You 
hear  a  great  deal  of  his  beauty  and  goodness ;  believe  it,  for  it  is 
true ;  and  that  a  great  deal  is  but  little  of  what  ought  to  be  said  of 
him.  But  pray  nim  to  show  himself  and  his  own  love  to  your 
heart;  then  you  will  love  him  indeed ;  all  the  world  would  love 
him  did  they  but  rightly  know  him.  Well,  if  you  love  the  Lord 
Jesus,  you  will  certainly  overcome  at  last,  and  then  you  shalk 
have  the  crown  of  life,  and  all  the  happiness  which  is  contained  in 
the  promises  made  to  them  who  overcome,  in  the  second  and  third 
chapter  of  Revelations.  My  dear  child,  pray  to  him,  and  never 
be  content  or  satisfied  till  you  feel  your  desire  and  love  fixed  upon 
him.  Nothing  less  will  content  me  for  you.  If  you  should  be- 
have to  me  and  your  mamma  with  the  greatest  tenderness,  affec- 
tion, and  attention,  as  you  grow  up,  (as  I  hope  you  will,  and  you 
yourself  are  sensible  you  ought,)  still  I  should  weep  over  you,  if  I 
saw  you  negligent  and  ungrateful  towards  the  Lord.  We  loye 
you>  and  would  do  much  to  show  it;  but  we  cgulcl  not,  we  dare 


382  TO  HISS  »««•.  [Leu  2. 

not  be  crucified  for  you.  This  was  such  love  as  only  he  could 
show ;  judge  what  a  return  it  calls  for  from  you.  Not  to  love  the 
Lord,  is  a  disposition  of  the  height  of  wickedness  and  the  depth  of 
misery.  Believe  me  to  be  yours. 


LETTER  II. 

Old  Jewry,  October  22,  1779. 
My  Dear  Child, 

You  may  well  expect  to  hear  from  me ;  but  you  will  hardly 
expect  a  tone  letter  if  yeu  remember  what  little  leisure  I  have  in 
London.  Almost  every  day  loads  me  with  debt,  and  brings  me 
letters  which  I  am  not  able  to  answer ;  but  my  dear  Betsey  must 
not  be  forgotten.  We  have  been  here  a  fortnight  or  upwards; 
the  Lord  gave  us  a  pleasant  and  safe  journey.  Your  mamma  has 
been,  upon  the  whole,  comfortably  well ;  and  as  you  know  we  are 
at  Dr.  ****'s,  I  need  not  tell  you  that  we  are  situated  as  much  to 
our  minds  as  can  be,  in  the  midst  of  so  much  noise  and  smoke. 
But  here  I  can  have  no  garden  ;  no  pretty  walks  amongst  ti*ees 
and  fields ;  no  birds  but  such  as  are  prisoners  in  iron  cages,  so 
that  I  pity  them  for  all  their  singing. 

But  the  same  sun  that  shines  at  N ,  is  often  to  be  seen  at 

London  ;  and  the  Lord  Jesus,  like  the  sun,  is  in  all  places  at  once. 
Go  where  we  will,  we  are  not  far  from  him,  if  we  have  but  eyes  to 
see  kim,  and  hearts  to  perceive  him.  My  dear  child,  when  you 
look  at  the  sun,  I  wish  it  may  lead  your  thoughts  to  him  who  made 
it,  and  who  placed  it  in  the  firmament,  not  only  to  give  us  lights 
but  to  be  the  brightest,  noblest  emblem  of  himself;  there  is  but 
one  sun,  and  there  needs  not  another;  so  there  is  but  one  Saviour, 
but  he  is  complete  and  all-sufficient,  the  sun  of  righteousness,  the 
fountain  of  life  and  comfort;  his  beams,  wherever  they  reach, 
brine  healing,  strength,  peace,  and  joy  to  the  soul.  Pray  to  him, 
my  dear,  to  shine  forth,  and  reveal  nimself  to  you.  O,  how  dif- 
ferent is  he  from  all  that  you  have  ever  seen  with  your  bodily  eyes ! 
he  is  the  sun  of  the  soul,  and  he  can  make  you  as  sensible  oi  his 
presence  as  you  are  of  the  sunshine  at  noon-day ;  and  when  once 
you  obtain  a  clear  sieht  of  him,  a  thousand  little  thines,  which 
have  hitherto  engaged  your  attention,  will  in  a  manner  disappear. 

As  by  the  light  of  op'ning  day, 

The  stars  are  all  coDcealed; 
So  earthly  beauties  fade  away, 

When  Jesus  is  re?eard. 

!  entreat,  1  charge  you,  to  ask  him  every  day  to  show  himself  to 


Let.  2.}  TO  MISS  ****.  383 

you.  Think  of  him  as  being  always  with  yon ;  about  your 
path  by  day,  about  your  bed  by  night,  nearer  to  you  than 
any  object  you  can  see,  thongh  you  see  him  not ;  whether  you 
are  sitting  or  walking,  in  company  or  alone.  People  oflen  con- 
sider God  as  if  he  saw  them  irom  a  great  distance  :  but  this  is 
wrong ;  for  though  he  be  in  heaven,  the  heaven  of  heavens  can- 
not contain  him  ;  he  is  as  much  with  us  as  with  the  angels ;  in 
him  we  live,  and  move,  and  have  our  being  ;  as  we  live  in  the  air 
which  surrounds  us,  and  is  within  us,  so  that  it  cannot  be  separa- 
ted from  us  a  moment.  And  whatever  thoughts  you  can  obtain 
of  God  from  the  Scripture,  as  great,  holy,  wise,  and  good,  en- 
deavour to  apply  them  all  to  Jesus  Christ,  who  once  died  upon 
the  cross,  for  he  is  the  true  God,  and  eternal  life,  with  whom  you 
have  to  do  ;  and  though  be  be  the  King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of 
Jords,  and  rules  over  all ;  he  is  so  condescending  and  compas- 
sionate, that  he  will  hear  and  answer  the  prayer  of  a  child.  Seek 
him,  and  you  shall  find  him ;  whatever  else  you  seek,  you  may 
be  disappointed,  but  he  is  never  sought  in  vain. 

Your  very  affectionate. 


LETTER  III. 

Charles'  Square^  Hdxton^  AprH  8,  1780. 
My  Dear  Child, 

I  HAVE  heard  of  you  several  times  since  I  received  your  let- 
ter, which  I  wished  to  answer  before.  I  would  be  thankful  that 
you  are  well,  and  I  hope  you  are  happy,  that  is,  in  the  common 
sense  of  the  word  ;  for,  strictly  speaking,  happiness  is  not  to  be 
found  here.  I  hope,  however,  you  are  cheerful,  thankful,  and,  in 
some  degree,  satisfied  with  your  lot ;  and,  in  order  to  this,  I  would 
wish  you  to  look  around  you,  and  see  bow  many  children  are 
sick,  while  you  are  well ;  poor  and  destitute,  while  yon  are  pi*ovi- 
ded,  not  only  with  the  necessaries,  but  the  comforts  of  life.  How 
many,  again,  are  exposed  to  hard  and  unkind  treatment,  whereas 
you  are  noticed  and  caressed,  and  have  kind  friends  abroad  and 
at  home.  Once  more,  consider  how  many  are  brought  up  in  ig- 
norance and  wickedness,  have  nothing  but  evil  examples,  and  it 
is  to  be  feared  will  go  from  bad  to  worse  as  they  grow  up  ;  while 
you  have  the  advantage  of  good  education  and  good  examples, 
and  are  placed  where  you  can  hear  the  precious  Gospel,  by  which 
the  Lord  gives  faith  and  salvation  to  them  that  seek  him.  Then 
ask  yourself  how  it  is,  or  why  you  are  better  ofi'tlian  they  P  And 
I  hope  there  is  something  within  you  that  will  tell  you,  whateve'r 


384  TO  MISS  ****.  {Let.  «, 

the  reason  may  be,  it  is  not  because  you  are  better  in  yonrselC 
or  deserve  better  things  than  others.  Your  heart  is  no  bettei^; 
yon  likewise  are  a  sinner  ;  you  were  born  with  a  sinful  dispou- 
tiou,  and  though  you  are  a  child,  you  have  sinned  against  the 
Lord ;  so  that  had  he  been  strict  to  mark  what  is  araiss,  be 
might  justly  have  cut  you  off  long  ago.  The  reason  why  yoit 
are  so  favoured!,  must  be  the  Lord's  mercy  and  goodness.  He  pit- 
tied  you  when  you  did  not  know  how  to  pity  yourself;  and  in  his 
providence  he  removed  you  from  a  plaice  where  you  would  proba- 
bly have  remained  ignorant  of  Him,  and  he  placed  yotf  under  our 
care,  and  made  you  dear  to  us,  that  we  might  feel  a  pleasure  in 
doing  every  thing  in  our  power  to  promote  your  welfare.  And  I 
hope  that  you  and  we  shall  have  reason  to  thank  him  that  you 
came  to  us.  The  days  are  growing  long,  the  summer  is  coming, 
and  among  the  many  pleasant  days  of  summer^  there  is  one  which 
1  hope  will  bring  you  home.  I  believe  you  will  be  glad  to  come, 
and  we  shall  be  glad  to  see  you  :  I  hope  you  will  like  the  house. 
There  are  green  trees  in  front,  and  a  green  field  backwards,  with 
cows  feeding  in  it ;  so  that  it  has  some  little  resemblance  of  the 
country. 

Your  mamma  desired  Miss  ****  to  send  you  a  cake,  which  I 
hope  you  received  ;  and  if  you  did,  I  suppose  it  is  all  gone  by 
this  time  :  for  they  say,  you  cannot  eat  your  cake  and  have  it.  It 
is  a  true  saying,  and  full  of  meaning.  Look  at  all  that  appears 
good  and  pleasant  in  this  world  ;  could  you  call  it  all  your  own, 
it  would  last  but  a  little  while,  and  then  you  go  into  another 
ivorld,  the  remembrance  of  what  you  had  in  this,  will  be  but  like 
remembering  you  once  had  a  cake,  but  it  is  gone,  quite  eaten  up. 
But  it  is  not  so,  my  dear  child,  with  respect  to  that  feast  which 
Jesus  prepares  for  poor  sinners.  The  pleasures  which  he  givei 
are  repeated  from  time  to  time,  and  are  pleasing  even  when  we 
reflect  on  them.  And  in  the  other  world,  when  earthly  pleasures 
will  be  quite  ended,  they  that  love  him  shall  have  pleasure  with- 
out interruption  and  without  end,  rivers  of  pleasure  at  his  right 
hand  for  evermore.  The  Lord  bless  you,  and  keep  you.  It  is 
one  of  my  pleasures  while  here  to  think  of  you,  to  feci  for  you, 
»ud  write  to  you,  as  Yoor  affectionate* 


Let.  4.]  TO  MISS  •***.  38% 

,,  ■ 

LETTER  IV. 

August  3, 1780. 
Mr  Dear  Child, 

You  may  be  sure  your  mamma  and  I  were  very  glad  to  bear 
that  the  Lord  preserved  you  from  harm,  and  that  you  were  safe 

and  well  at  N .     I  wish  you   to  have   a  deep  impressioa 

on  your  mind,  that  your  safety,  whether  abroad  or  at  home,  or 
the  continuance  of  your  health  from  one  hour  to  another,  is  not  a 
matter  of  course,  but  the  effect  of  the  care  and  goodness  of  Htm 
who  knows  we  are  helpless  as  sheep,  and  condescends  to  act  the 
part  of  a  shepherd  towards  us.  May  you  learn  to  acknowledge 
him  in  all  your  ways,  to  pray  to  him  for  his  blessing,  and  to  praise 
him  daily  for  his  mercies  ;  and  then  you  will  do  well.  This  is 
the  great  privilege  which  distinguishes  us  from  the  beasts  of  the 
field ;  they  likewise  owe  their  preservation  to  his  providence : 
but  then  they  are  not  capable  of  knowing  him  or  thanking  him. 
There  are  many  young  people  who  are  contented  to  live  without 
God  in  the  world  ;  but  this  is  not  only  their  sin,  but  their  shame 
likewise.  They  thereby  renounce  the  chief  honour  they  are  ca- 
pable of,  and  degrade  themselves  to  a  tevel  with  the  beasts. 
But  let  it  not  be  so  with  you.  Pray  to  the  Lord  to  teach  you 
to  love  him,  and  when  you  think  of  him,  fix  your  thoughts 
upon  Jesus  Christ ;  upon  him  who  conversed  on  earth  as  a 
man*  The  great  God  has  manifested  himself  in  a  way  suited 
to  us,  as  weak  creatures  and  poor  sinners.  God  is  every  where 
present,  but  only  those  who  look  to  him  ijn  Christ  cs^  attain 
to  love,  tru^t,  or  serve  him  aright.  When  you  read  our  Saviour's 
discourses,  recorded  by  the  evangelists,  attend  as  if  you  saw  him 
with  your  own  eyes,  standing  before  you  ;  and  when  you  try  to 
pray,  assure  yourself  before  you  begin,  that  he  is  actually  in  the 
room  with  you,  and  that  his  ear  is  op^ n  to  every  word  you  saj'. 
This  will  make  you  serious,  and  it  will  likewise  encourage  you, 
when  you  consider  that  you  are  not  speaking  into  the  air,  or  to 
one  who  is  a  great  way  off;  but  to  one  who  is  very  near  yov,  to 
your  best  friend,  who  is  both  able  and  willing  to  give  you  every 
thing  that  is  good  for  you. 

Though  you  have  not  been  gone  from  us  a  fortnight,  we  seem  to 
long  to  see  you  again.  August  is  come  already  ;  and  December 
which  we  hope  will  bring  you  here  again,  will  be  here  before 
long.  I  shall  be  glad  if  you  make  the  most  of^our  time,  and  re- 
turn so  much  improved,  that  we  inay  be  able  to  keep  you  at 
home  ;  for  it  is  no  pleasure  to  us  to  have  you  at  such  a  distance 
from  us.     But  lhei«  is  no  suitable  day-schgol  in  this  neigbl^^nn'- 

VoL.  IV.  40 


386  TO  MISS  ••♦♦.  [Let.  5. 

hood,   and  if  you  must  be  at  boarding-school,  I  believe  you 

must  be  at  N ;  for,  after  you  have  been  so  long  there,  we 

should  not  beVilliog  to  take  you  from  Mrs.  ••**'s  school  to  put 
you  to  another  ;  it  would  seem  a  slight  to  her ;  though  our  mo- 
tive would  be  only  to  have  you  nearer  to  us,  people  would  think 
we  had  other  reasons. 

My  advice  to  you  will  be  chiefly  with  respect  to  your  religious 
concerns  and  your  moral  conduct.  But  there  are  other  things 
belonging  to  your  mamma's  province.  She  wishes,  as  you  grow 
up,  you  may  not  appear  to  a  disadvantage  when  compared  with 
other  young  women,  and  indeed,  if  you  should  be  every  thing  she 
wishes  you  to  be,  you  will  do  honour  to  the  school  yon  come 
from.  • 


I  think  you  are  in  general  willing  to  oblige  her,  and  I  am  per- 
suaded a  little  care  and  resolution  on  your  part,  would  soon  make 
it  easy  and  familiar  to  you  to  follow  the  example  she  sets  you,  as 
well  as  the  advice  she  gives  you.  I  hope,  therefore,  for  ber  sake, 
for  mine,  for  the  sake  of  your  governess,  and  especially  for  your 
own  sake,  you  will  endeavour  to  be  notable.  It  was  a  grief  to 
tne  that  my  time  was  so  unavoidably  taken  up,  that  I  could  §pare 
but  little  to  converse  with  you  ;  but  we  agreed,  you  know,  to 
make  it  up  by  letters.  It  is  now  your  turn  to  write,  and  I  shall 
be  glad  of  a  long  letter  from  you  soon,  in  which  I  wish  you  to 
open  your  mind,  to  tell  me  what  you  think,  feel,  hope,  fear,  or 
desire,  with  the  same  freedom  as  if  you  were  writing  to  one  of 
your  school-fellows. 

The  Lord  bless  you,  my  dear  child,  and  give  you  to  increase 
in  wisdom  and  grace,  as  you  increase  in  years.  Always  think  of 
me  as  Your  very  affectionate  father. 


LETTER  V- 

JVavember  1,  1780. 
Mt  Detar  Child, 

I  CONGRATULATE  you  that  you  are  now  within  a  month  of 
December,  when  you  will  begin  to  count  the  days,  and  to  see  the 
vacation  peeping  over  the  head  of  a  short  interval.  I  may  con- 
gratulate your  mamma,  and  myself  likewise,  (provided  you  come 
to  us  improved  as  we  wish  you,)  for  we  long  to  see  you,  and  have 
done  so  every  day  since  you  left  us. 


Let.  6.]  TO  Misis  «**».  38t 

Yoar  mamma  is  often  indisposed,  but  seldom  very  ill,  at  least 
not  long  together  ;  but  both  she  and  I  have  many  feelings  with 
which  we  were  not  acquainted  when  we  were  young  like  you. 
The  advantages  of  youth  and  health  a^  Seldom  rightly  known 
at  the  right  time.  It  is,  indeed,  a  mercy  if,  when  wd  are  growing 
old,  we  have  some  proper  sense  of  the  folly  and  vanity  we  indulg- 
ed in  early  life,  and  can  be  ashamed  as  we  ought,  to  think  how 
many  opportunities  we  neglected  ;  how  many  talents  we  misim- 
proved.  Yet  repentance  cannot  recall  the  day  that  is  past.  It  is 
my  frequent  prayer  that  you  may  be  wiser  than  f  was  at  your 
time  of  life  ^  that  you  may  have  grace  to  remember*  your  Creator 
and  Redeemer  wbile  you  are  yet  young.  Depend  upon  it,  my 
dear,  whenever  you  really  know  the  Lord,  you  will  be  sorry  you 
did. not  know  him  sooner ;  whenever  you  experience  that  pleasuri^ 
which  is  only  to  be  found  in  loving  and  serving  him,  you  will  wish 
you  had  loved  and  served  him,  (if  possible,)  from  your  very 
cradle. 

1  have  no  news  to  teH  you  ;  but  one  thing  I  can  assure  you, 
which  though  yon  have  often  heard,  I  hope  the  repetition  will  bt 
always  pleasing  to  you,  1  mean,  that  I  am  your  very  afiectiouate 
friend,  and  feel  for  you  as  if  I  was  really  and  truly  your  father. 


LETTER  vr. 

Januartf,  10,  1781. 
Mt  Dear  Child, 

1  TELL  many  of  my  friends  abroad,  that  my  tiihe  is  so  much 
taken  up,  they  must  not  expect  me  to  write  to  them  ;  and  yet  1 
have  offered  to  begin  a  new  correspondence  with  you,  though  yoti 
are  in  the  same  house  with  me.  I  would  have  you  take  notice, 
and  I  believe  you  will,  of  this  among  many  other  circumstances 
by  which  as  occasions  offer,  1  take  a  pleasure  in  shoeing  you  thtit 
I  dearly  love  you,  and  long  to  contribute  every  thing  in  my  power 
to  your  improvement  and  to  your  satisfaction  ;  and  I  persuade 
myself  the  hope  I  form  of  a  suitable  return  of  love  and  attention 
from  you,  will  not  be  disappointed.  The  Lord  in  his  good  pro- 
vidence, gave  you  to  me  as  a  gift,  and  committed  yon  to  me  as  a 
trust ;  at  the  same  time,  be  gave  me  a  great  love  for  you,  and 
whatever  we  do  for  those  we  love,  we  do  with  pleasure. 

I  thank  you  for  your  letter  of  yesterday.  It  encourages  me 
to  hope  that  the  gracious  Saviour  is  knocking  at  the  door  of  your 
bean.  I  doubt  not  but  you  write  what  yoa  thhik  and  feel,  yet 
there  is  more  meaniag  in  your  expresftioQSi  than  either  yoir  or  I 


388  TO  MISS  ****.  [Let.  6. 

can  folly  comprehend.  You  are,  as  yoa  say,  a  sinner ;  a  yoting 
sinner,  and  yet  a  great  sinner.  It  is  not  your  case  alone,  we  are 
all  born  in  sin  ;  bat  to  be  sensible  that  yoa  are  a  sinner,  is  a  mer- 
cy afforded  but  to  few  children  at  your  age.  May  the  Lord  keep 
the  persuasion  alive  in  yoar  heart.  But  the  word  sinner  includes 
so  much,  that  a  whole  long  life  will  hardly  suffice  to  give  you  a 
full  sense  of  it.  Thus  much  I  hope  you  know  already,  that  a 
sinner  needs  a  Saviour ;  and  that  Jesus  is  the  Saviour  of  all  sin- 
ners that  seek  him.  I  commend  you  to  him  ;  if  he  has  taught  you 
a  little,  he  will  teach  you  more.  Put  yourself  simply  into  his 
hands,  and  wait  patiently  his  time ;  he  works  powerfiiUy,  but  for 
the  most  part  gently  and  gradually.  You  know  the  sun  does  not 
break  out  upon  us  all  at  once  in  a  dark  night ;  there  is  first 
a  glimmering  dawn  in  the  sky,  which  gives  us  notice  that  he  is 
coming,  and  prepares  us  for  bis  appearance.  By  degrees  that 
faint  light  grows  brighter ;  we  see  clearer  and  further  j  it  becomea 
broad  day,  and  after  that  the  sun  rises. 

Your  part  is  to  pray  to  him,  to  bear  his  word,  and  to  listen 
with  attention  when  you  hear  it  preached.  1  trust  you  will  find 
your  light  increase,  and  your  difficulties  abate ;  I  wish  you  to  be 
as  cheerful  and  easy  as  possible.  Cheerfulness  is  no  sin,  nor  is 
there  any  grace  in  a  solemn  cast  of  countenance.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  would  not  have  you  light  and  giddy  with  levity ;  it  will 
hurt  your  own  spirit,  and  hinder  you  from  the  piirsuit  of  what,  in 
your  serious  moments,  you  most  desire.  I  know  your  natural 
spirits  are  changeable;  sometimes  they  are  highly  volatile:  I 
would  have  you  correct  them  by  thinking  you  are  a  sinner. 
Sometimes  you  are  grave  enough;  but  if  you  feel  uneasy,  then 
try  to  think  what  a  Saviour  you  read  of.  Be  sure  you  do  not 
indulge  a  hard  thought  of  him,  as  though  he  were  severe,  and 
stern,  and  ready  to  take  advantage  of  you.  Form  your  ideas  of 
.kirn  from  the  accounts  the  evangelists  give  you,  that  he  was  meek 
and  lowly  when  upon  earth,  full  of  compassion  and  gentleness, 
ready  to  pity,  to  heal,  to  help,  and  to  teach  all  who  come  to  him^ 
and  tbey  will  tell  you  that  he  had,  in  particular,  a  great  love  for 
children.  He  tells  you  so  himself.  You  read  how  he  took  them 
in  his  arms,  put  his  bands  on  them,  and  blessed  them.  When  you 
think  of  this,  shake  ofi*  gloomy  thoughts,  speak  to  him  in  your 
heart,  and  say,  Lord  bless  me  too. 

One  of  the  best  methods  of  keeping  free  from  uneasy,  trouble- 
some thoughts,  at  least  of  lessening  them,  is  to  be  always  em- 
ployed ;  strive  and  pray  against  indolence^look  upon  it  as  a 
hurtful,  yea,  a  sinfiil  thing.  Read  in  Englisli  and  French,  write 
and  work.  Your  mamma  and  I  will  be  both  willing  you  should 
diversify  these  employments  as  may  be  most  agreeable  to  your 


Let.  7.)  TO  MISS  •«».  -389 

own  iDclination ;  but  we  wish  not  to  see  you  idle.  Now  is  the  time 
of  life  for  you  to  acquira  useful  knowledge,  that  you  may  make 
yourself  agreeable,  and  that  you  may  be  useful  and  qualiGed  to 
fill  up  that  station  in  the  Vorld  which  the  Lord  may  allot  you.  I 
will  gladly  assist  you,  as  much  as  I  can,  in  what  falls  under  my 
department ;  but  you  know  I  have  but  little  time.  God  has 
given  you  a  good  capacity,  and  therefore  the  less  assistance  will 
be  necessary,  if  you  are  not  wanting  to  yourself.  You  may  de* 
pend  on  our  doing  what  we  can  to  make  you  happy.  If  we  seem 
to  cross  your  wishes  sometimes,  or  not  to  comply  with  your  de* 
sire,  you  may  be  sure  we  li^e  some  reason  for  it.  You  shall  go 
out  with  as,  as  often  as  we  think  it  will  be  proper  and  right ;  and 
we  shall  not  leave  you  at  home  for  our  own  pleasure,  but  because 
it  would  not  be  good  for  you  to  be  too  much  abroad.  We  ex- 
pect and  hope  you  will  be  ruled  by  a  hint  or  a  word  ;  and  then 
you  will  find  us  studious  in  contriving  how  to  make  every  thing 
as  agreable  as  possible  to  you.  Because  you  desired  a  letter  soon, 
I  have  written  thus  much,  although  I  had  other  things  to  do,  and 
it  is  preaching  morning.  I  shall  hope  for  a  letter  from  you  very 
much.     The  Lord  bless  you. 

1  am,  my  dear  child, 

Your  afiectionate  father. 


LETTER  VII. 

October  17,  1781. 
My  Dear  Child,  ^ 

I  SEND  you  the  first  letter ;  in  future  you  must  not  expect  me 
to  write  but  in  answer  to  yours.  We  wish  to  hear  soon  that  yon 
are  weM,  and  that  you  like  your  situation.  I  do  not  wish  you  t$> 
like  any  place  so  well  as  home  :  upon  one  account  you  ought  not ; 
for  it  is  impossible  any  persons  should  ever  love  you  so  well  as 
your  mamma  and  I  do  ;  and  therefore  you  are  bound  to  love  ns 
dearly,  and  that  will  make  you  love  home  ;  and  the  more  you 
love  home,  the  more  diligent  yon  will  be  in  the  improvement  of 
your  time  at  school.  For  your  return  to  us  must,  in  a  great  mea- 
sure, depend  upon  yourself ;  it  is  no  pleasure  to  us  to  send  you 
abroad.  I  thought  for  a  day  or  two  the  house  looked  awkward 
without  you,  and  I  miss  you  a  little  every  day  still ;  hot'  we  are 
forced  to  part  with  you  for  your  own  good.  I  cannot  bear  the 
thoughts  of  your  growing  up  like  a  tall  weed  ;  I  want  you  to 
appear  like  a  pretty  flower ;  and  it  is  observable  that  the  best  of 
flowers  in  a  garden  would  in  time  degenerate  into  tawdry  weeds  if 


3aO  TO  MISS  *••*.  [Let.  7. 

they  were  not  cultivated ;  such  is  the  importance  of  education  to 
children.  The  Lord  has  been  good  to  you  :  he  has  given  you 
good  understanding  and  natural  abilities — and  much  that  is  enga- 
ging in  your  disposition.  It  would  be  a  great  pity  that,  with  all 
these  advantages,  you  should  prove  only  a  weed.     To  prevent  it, 

I  was  obliged  to  transplant  you  from  London  to  H ,  where  I 

hope  you  will  thrive  and  flourish,  iocreasingin  wisdom  and  favour 
as  you  increase  in  stature. 

I  have  written  you  many  letters  in  a  religious  strain,  which  I 
hope  yon  have  preserved,  and  will  nOw  and  then  read  them  over, 
the  more  willing,  perhaps,  because  your  papa  wrdte  them,  i 
would' not  overdo  you  upon  this  subject ;  though  the  truth  is,  this 
is  my  chief  desire  for  you,  that  you  may  know  the  Lord  and  love- 
him  ;  if  not,  though  you  were  accomplished  and  admifed  beyond 
any  of  your  age,  and  though  you  could  live  in  all  the  splendour 
of  a  queen,  I  should  weep  over  you  ;  I  should  lament  your  birth, 
and  the  day  when  you  first  came  under  my  care.  But  I  know 
that  I  cannot  make  you  truly  religious,  nor  can  yon  make  your- 
self so.  It  is  the  Lord's  work,  and  I  am  daily  praying  biro  to 
bless  you  indeed.  But  be  has  a  time ;  till  then,  I  hope  you  will 
wait  upon  him  according  to  your  light,  in  the  use  of  his  appointed 
means,  that  you  will  make  conscience  of  praying  to  him,  and 
reading  his  word,  and  hearing  when  you  liave  opportunity.  I 
hope  he  will  enable  you  to  behave  obediently  and  affectionately 
to  your  governess,  and  in  an  obliging  manner  to  all  around  you, 
so  as  to  gain  their  love  and  esteem.  I  hope  you  will  likewise  care- 
fully abstain  from  whatever  you  know  to  be  wrong.  Thus  far  I 
may  hope  you  can  go  at  present ;  but  I  do  not  wish  you  to  affecc 
more  of  religion  in  your  appearance,  than  you  are  really  conscious 
of.  There  is  some  danger  of  this  in  a  family  where  a  religious 
profession  is  befriended.  Young  people  are  apt  to  imitate  those 
about  them,  and  sometimes  (which  is  abominable)  to  put  on  a 
show  of  religion  in  order  to  please,  though  their  hearts  have  no 
concern  in  it.  I  have  a  good  hope  that  the  Lord  will  teach  you, 
and  guide  yon,  and  that  the  many  prayers  and  praises  I  have 
pflered  on  yottf  behalf  will  not  be  lost. 

When  I  began  my  letter,  I  did  not  mean  to  write  half  so  gravely, 
I  rather  thought  to  find  something  to  divert  you  ;  but  you  are 
very  near  my  heart,  and  this  makes  me  serious.  I  long  to  come 
and  see  you,  but  it  cannot  be  yet,  nor  can  I  say  when  :  but  I  shall 
bounce  in  upon  you  some  day  when  perhaps  you  are  not  think- 
ing of  me.  I  am,  my  dear. 

Your  very  affectionate. 


Let.  8;]  T,o  MISS  *»*»,.  3^ 

LETTER  Vllt     - 

Nofftmber  10,  1781. 
^Y  Dear  Child, 

When  yoar  mamma  and  I  come  to  see  you,  it  must  be  on  a 
Monday,  for  more  reasons  than  one ;  which  it  is  not  necessary  for 
yon  to  know :  and  as  there  is  but  one  Monday  in  a  week,  some- 
thing or  other  may  prevent  oftener  than  I  wish*  However,  I  pro-' 
mise  to  think  of  you  when  I  cannot  see  you,  and  somfetimes  we 
talk  of  you.  "  Christmas  will  soon  be  here  |  then  we  shall  hav6 
her  at  home,  and  then  who  knaws  but  she  will  be  so  improved, 
wid  behave  so  nicely,  that  we  shall  be  sorry  to  part  with  her 
again."  When  we  talk  thus,  I  hope  you  will  make  good  what 
we  say. 

Lately,  for  about  a  week,  I  was  attacked  by  a  company  of 
pains.  Some  seized  my  face  and  teeth,  some  took  possession  of 
my  back,  and  some  got  into  my  sides ;  but  they  are  all  gone  now, 
and  they  did  me  no  barm.  You  know  little  about  pains  and 
cares  yet.  You  are  pow  at  the  time  of  life  when  you  are  espe- 
crally  called  upon  to^member  yoar  Cveator  and  Redeemer,  and 
have  the  greatest  advantages  for  doing  it.  ^But,  if  your  life  is 
spared,  to  you  likewise  the  days  will  come  when  you  will  say, 
^'  I  have  no  pleasure  in  them."  But  I  hope,  long  before  they  come, 
you  will  have  some  experience  of  pleasures  which  do  not  at  all 
depend  upon  youth  or  health,  or  any  thing  that  this  world  can 
either  give  or  take  away.  Seek  t)ie  Lord,  and  yoq  shall  live  ; 
and  you  have  not  far  to  seek  for  him  ;  he  is  very  near  you  ;  he 
h  all  around  you  ;  about  your  bed  by  night,  and  your  pa^th  by 
day.  He  sees,  he  notices  all  you  say  and  do.  But  I  do  not  wish 
you  to  conceive  of  him  so  as  to  make  the  thought  of  him  uneasy 
to  you.  Think  of  him  according  to  the  account  the  evangelists 
give  of  him  when  he  was  upon  earth  ;  how  gracious,  compassion- 
ate and  kind  be  was.  If  he  were  upon  earth  now,  would  you  not 
wish  that  I  should  lead  you  to  him,  that  he  might  lay  his  hands 
upon  you  and  bless  you,  as  he  did  the  children  which  were  brought 
to  him  f  If  he  were  here,  and  I  could  go  with  you  and  say,  *'  Lord 
bless  my  child  likewise  !"  I  am  sure  he  would  not  frown  at  you, 
and  say,  "  Take  her  away,  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  %vith  her !" 
No,  my  dear  child,  he  has  promised,  them  that  come  to  him  he 
will  in  no  wise  cast  out.  Go  to  hip  yourself ;  though  you  can- 
not see  him,  it  is  sufficient  that  he  sees  and  hears  you.  Tell  him, 
that  you  hear  and  believe  he  is  a  Saviour  to  o^any,  and  beg  him 
to  be  your  Saviour  too.  Tell  him  it  was  not  your  own  choice, 
but  his  providence,  that  removed  you  from  C ,  and  put 


S92  TO  HISS  •»»*,  [Let.  9* 

you  uoder  mj  care  which  gave  you  an  opportunity  of  knowing 
more  of  his  goodness  than  yon  would  otherwise  have  done ;  and 
beg  of  bim  to  give  you  his  grace,  that  the  advantages  you  have 
had  may  not  aggravate  your  sins,  but  lead  you  to  his  salvation ; 
and  do  not  let  a  day  pass  without  thinking  on  his  sufferings  in  Geth- 
semane  and  mount  Golgotha.  Surely  his  love  to  poor  sinners, 
in  bleeding  and  dying  for  them,  will  constrain  you  to  love  him 
again  ;  and  if  once  you  love  him,  then  every  thing  will  be  easy, 
and  you  will  account  it  your  greatest  pleasure  to  please  him. 

I  thank  you  for  your  letter.  I  conceive  a  hope  from  it,  that 
you  will  improve  in  your  writing.  I  wish  you  not  only  to  write 
a  good  hand  but  a  good  letter ;  and  the  whole  art  is  to  write 
with  freedom  and  ease.  When  you  take  your  pen  in  band,  pop 
things  down  just  as  they  come  to  your  mind  ;  just  as  you  would 
speak  of  them  without  study.  Tell  me  something  about  the  fowls 
in  the  yard,  or  the  trees  in  the  garden,  or  what  you  please  ;  only 
write  freely.  The  Lord  bless  you,  1  love  you  dearly,  and  wisk 
you  to  believe  me  to  be  Your  affectionate. 


LETTER  IX. 

My  Dear  Child, 

Mrs.  ****  died  on  the  Fast  day,  and  was  buried  yesterday. 
I  had  often  visited  her  during  her  illness,  and  was  at  her  funeral. 
She  was  well  a  few  months  ago,  but  a  consumption  soon  brought 
her  down  to  the  grave.  But,  though  she  was  young,  she  was  not 
sorry  to  leave  such  a  poor  world  as  this.  I  always  found  her 
happy  and  cheerful,  though  her  illness  was  very  painful.  She 
suffered  much  by  .cold  sweats ;  but  sbe  said,  a  few  days  before  her 
death,  that  it  would  be  worth  lying  a  thousand  years  in  a  cold 
sw«at,  for  one  hour's  such  happiness  as  she  then  felt.  *'  O  !"  she 
said,  '^  if  this  be  dying,  what  a  pleasant  thing  dying  is."  I  think 
my  dear  child  has  told  me,  that  you  are  often  terrified  at  the 
thoughts  of  death  :  now  if  you  seek  the  Lord,  as  Mrs.  ♦•*♦  did, 
while  you  are  young,  thien  whenever  you  come  to  die,  you  will 
find  that  death  has  nothing  terrible  in  it  to  them  that  love  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  He  has  disarmed  death,  and  taken  away  its 
sting ;  and  he  has  promised  to  meet  people  and  receive  them  to 
himself,  .when  they  are  about  to  leave  this  world,  and  everything 
they  loved  in  it  behind  them.  You  have  the  same  advantages  that 
Mrs.  ♦**♦  had;  like  her,  you  are  placed  under  the  care  of  those 
who  wish  well  to  your  soul ;  the  Scriptures,  which  made  her  wise 
tp  salvation,  are  put  into  yaur  hand  likewise,  and  you  also  have 


Let.  9.]  TD  |ti9s  **»*.  898 

the  opportunity  o(  heariDg  {be  Gospel.  She  w«s  dxhorted  and 
encouraged  from  a  child,  to  pray  to  the  Lord  for  his  grace  ;  and  ^ 
so  are  you.  I  hope  you  will  do  as  she  did  ;  aod  the  Lord,  who 
was  gracious  to  her,  will  be  gracious  to  you ;  for  he  has 
promised  that  none  who  seek  him,  shall  seek  hini  in  vain. 
Your  conscience  tells  yod  that  you  are  a  sinner,  and  that  makes 
you  afraid  ;  but  when  the  Lord  gives  you  faith,  you  will  see 
and  understand,  that  the  blood  >of  Jesus  Christ  deanseth  from 
all  sin  ;  then  you  will  love  him  ;  and  when  you  love  him,  you 
will  find  it  easy  and  pleasant  to  serve  him  ;  and  then  you  will 
long  to  see  him  who  died  for  you :  and  as  it  is  impossible  to  see 
him  in  this  world,  you  will  be  glad  that  you  are  not  to  stay 
here  always  ;  you  will  be  willing  to  die,  that  you  may  be  with 
him  where  he  is.  In  the  mean  time,  I  hope  you  will  pray  to 
him  and  wait  for  his  time  to  reveal  himself  to  you  ;  endeavouring 
to  avoid  whatever  yon  know  to  be  wrong  and  displeasing  to  ht^  : 
and  sometimes,  I  hope,  you  will  feel  your  heart  soft  and  tender, 
and  serious  thoughts  and  desires  rising  in  your  mind;  when  you  do, 
then  think,  "  Now  is  the  Lord  calling  me  I"  and  say  as  Samuel 
did,  **  Speak,  Lord,  for  thy  servant  beareth."  He  does  not  call 
with  an  audible  voice,  but  he  speaks  to  the  heart  in  a  way  not  to 
be  describ«d  by  words.  When  we  are  grieved  and  ashamed  for 
our  own  sins  ;  when  we  are  affected  with  what  wh  read  and  hear 
of  him,  of  his  love,  his  sufferings,  and  his  death  ;  when  we  see  and 
feel  that  nothing  but  his  favour  can  make  us  happy  ;  then  we 
may  be  sure  the  Lord  is  near. 

I  believe  you  have  too  much  sense  and  honesty  to  make  a  pro^ 
fession  of  religion,  further  than  your  heart  is  really  engaged,  in 
order  to  please  your  fellow  creatures.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  I 
would  not  have  you  backward  to  open  your  mind  to  me  on  reK- 
gious  subjects.  I  know  you  are  not  without  convictions,  and 
though  all  convictions  are  not  rights  yet  true  religion  always  be- 
gins with  convictions.  We  must  know  we  are  sick,  before  we  can 
prize  a  physician.  If  I  live  to  see  you  a  partaker  of  the  grace 
of  God,  one  of  the  chief  desires  of  my  heart  will  be  gratified ; 
this  would  please  me  more  than  to  have  your  weight  in  gold,  and 
therefore  you  may  be  sure  I  often  pray  for  you. 

I  am  your  affectionate. 

Vol.  IV.  50 


394  TO  MISS  ♦*•#.  [Let.  10. 

LETTER  X. 

August  1,  1762. 
Mt  Dear  Child, 

Do  not  think  we  forget  you  ;  our  love  would  reach  yoa 
were  you  a  hundred  times  further  from  us  than  Highgate  is ;  but 
we  are  very  much  taken  up.  Monday  your  mamma  was  ill  in 
bed  all  day  ;  she  is  pretty  Well  now,  but  P****  is  very  bad  indeed 
—worse,  I  believe,  than  ever  you  saw  her,  and  we  can  hardly  at- 
tend to  any  thing  but  her.  Then  again  poor  Mr.  B***"^  was  hurt 
by  a  mad  ox,  about  ten  days  since ;  his  life  has  been  in  great  dan- 
ger, but  we  How  hope  he  will  recover.  I  visit  him  every  day,  and 
that  takes  up  a  good  deal  of  my  time. 

I  would  be  thankful  that  the  Lord  preserves  you  in  health  and 
safety.  I  hope  you  are  thankful  too.  When  you  see  any  body 
sick,  or  hurt,  or  lame,  I  would  have  you  think  it  is  of  the  Lord's 
goodness  their  case  is  not  yours.  Sin  has  filled  the  world  with 
sorrow  ;  all  the  calamities  you  read  or  hear  of,  or  see  with  your 
eyes  afe  the  fruits  of  sin ;  and  as  you  are  a  sinner,  you  might  suf- 
fer what  others  do,  and  it  is  only  the  Lord's  mercy  that  preserves 
you,  and  provides  you  good  things  which  many  others  have  not. 
You  know  many  children  are  brought  up  in  poverty,  meet  with 
iM  treatment  have  no  parents  or  kind  friends  to  take  care  of  them. 
But  though  the  Lord  removed  your  parents  before  you  were  old 
enough  to  miss  them,  he  took  care  to  provide  you  a  place  with  us  ; 
h%  inclined  us  not  only  to  receive  yon,  but  to  love  you ;  and  now 
,  your  wants  are  all  supplied  :  and  besides  this,  you  have  been,  and 
are  instructed  and  prayed  for  every  day.  You  have  great  rea- 
son to  be  thankful  indeed,  and  I  hope  you  will  pray  to  the  Lord 
to  give  you  a  thankful  heart ;  for  you  cannot  have  it  except  he 
gives  it  you.     That  hymn  in  Dr.  Watts'  little  book — 

Whene'er  I  take  xny  walks  abroadi  kc 

though  it  is  written  principally  for  children,  will  deserve  your 
notice  when  you  grow  up  and  become  a  woman  ;  I  hope  you  will 
say  from  your  heart — 

Not  more  than  others  I  deserve^ 
Yet  God  has  given  me  more. 

Oh,  it  is  a  great  blessing  to  be  sensible  we  deserve  nothing  from 
God  bot  misery,  ai!id  that  all  the  good  we  receive  is  mercy,  and 
then  to  know  that  all  this  mercy  we  owe  to  the  Lord  Jesus,  who 
died  foroi  that  we  might  live  and  be  happy. 


Let.  11.]  TO  MISS  *•«*.  396 

There's  ne'er  a  gift  bis  band  bestows, 
But  cost  his  heart  a  groan. 

When  you,understaDd  this,  you  will  love  him,  and  then  you  will 
be  happy  indeed  ;  then  it  will  be  your  pleasure  to  please  him ;  and 
then,  putting  your  trust  in  him,  you  will  be  preserved  from  anxie- 
ty and  evil.  Ycuir  aflSectiouate. 


LETTER  XL 

Augutt  10,  1782. 
My  Dear  Child, 

"  Vanity  of  vanities  !"  saith  the  preacher.  "  How  vain  are 
all  things  here  below  !"  saith  Dr.  Watts  ; — ^^nd  you  and  I,  and 
your  mamma,  may  say  so  likewise  ;  for  we  all  counted  upon 
meeting  last  Sunday  :  we  listened  at  the  door,  and  peeped  out  of 
the  window,  but  no  Betsey  came.  When  we  heard  by  Miss  ***» 
that  you  were  well,  we  were  satisfied.  Now  we  will  venture  to 
expect  you  next  Sunday.  Indeed,  it  is  not  amiss  that  you  should 
now  and  then  meet  with  a  balk,  that  yon  may  learn,  if  pd^sible, 
not  to  count  too  much  on  what  to-morrow  may  do  for  you ; 
and  that  you  may  begin  to  feel  the  impossibility  of  being  hap- 
py any  further  than  your  will  i^  brought  into  submission  to  the 
will  of  God.  In  order  to  this,  you  must  have  your  own  will 
frequently  crossed ;  and  things  do  and  will  turn  out,  almost 
daily,  in  one  way  or  other,  contrary  to  our  wishes  and  ex- 
pectations. Then  some  people  fret  and  fume,  are  angry  and 
impatient ;  but  others,  who  are  in  the  Lord's  school,  and  desirous 
of  being  taught  by  him,  get  good  by  these  things,  and  som^time^ 
find  more  pleasure  in  yielding  to  his  appointment,  though  contra- 
ry to  their  own  wills,  than  they  would  have  done  if  all  bad  hap- 
pened just  to  their  wish. 

I  wish  my  dear  child  to  think  much  of  the  Lord's  governing 
providence.  It  extends  to  the  minutest  concerns.  He  rules  and 
manages  all  things  ;  but  in  so  secret  a  way,  that  most  people 
think  he  does  nothing,  when  in  reality,  he  does  all.  He  appoint- 
ed the  time  of  your  coming  into  the  world  ;  and  the  day  and  hour 
of  your  coming  from  Highgate  to  us,  depends  upon  him  likewise  : 
nor  can  you  come  in  safety  one  step  of  the  road  without  his  pro- 
tection and  care  over  you.  It  may  now  seem  a  small  matter  to 
you  and  to  me,  whether  you  came  home  last  Sunday,  or  are  to 
come  borne  next  Sunday  ;  but  we  know  not  what  different  conse- 
quences may  depend  upon  tte  day  :  we  know  not  what  hiddeii 


396  TO  MISS  ••••.  [Let.  12. 

danger  jou  migbt  escape  by  staying  at  High^te  last  Sunday 
The  Lord  knows  all  things ;  he  foresees  every  possible  conse- 
qaefnce,  and  often  what  we  call  disappointments,  are  mercies  from 
him  to  save  ns  from  harm. 

If  I  could  teach  you  a  lesson  which  as  yet  I  have  but  poorly 
learned  myself,  I  would  put  you  in  a  way  that  you  should  never 
be  disappointed.  This  would  be  the  case  if  you  could  always 
form  a  right  judgment  of  this  world,  and  all  things  in  it.  If  you 
go  to  a  blackberry  bush  to  look  for  grapes,  you  must  be  disap- 
pointed ;  but  then  you  must  thank  yourself,  for  you  are  big- 
enough  to  know  that  grapes  never  grow  upon  brambles.  So  if 
you  expect  much  pleasure  here,  you  will  not  find  it  ;  but  yon 
ought  not  to  say  you  are  disappointed,  because  the  scripture 
warned  you  beforehand  to  look  for  crosses,  trials,  and  balks 
every  day.  If  you  expect  such  things,  yon  will  not  be  disap- 
pointed when  they  happen.  I  am  your  very  affectionate. 


LETTER  XII. 

Ocroter  15,  1782. 
Mt  Dear  Child, 

It  is  rather  to  your  disadvantage  that  I  have  lately  correct- 
ed a  mistake  I  had  made.  I  thought  yon  were  but  twelve  years 
old  last  birth-day  ;  but  I  read  in  a  blank  leaf  of  the  great  Bible, 
that  my  child  was  born  June  22,  1769;  consequently  3'ou  are 
now  in  y6ur  fourteenth  year.  Therefore,  to  keep  pace  with  my 
ideas  and  wishes,  you  ought  to  be  a  whole  year  more  advanced 
in  improvements  of  every  kind  than  you  are,  a  whole  year  wiser. 
Some  things  which  I  might  think  very  tolerable  in  my  child,  sup- 
posing she  was  but  twelve  years  old,  will  seem  but  rather  so  so, 
when  1  know  she  is  thirteen  ;  and  some  things  of  another  sort  will 
be  quite  unsuitable  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  which  might  be  more  ex- 
cusable if  you  were  but  twelve.  You  see,  my  dear  child,  you  must 
sUr  your  stumps,  and  use  double  diligence  to  fefch  up  this  year, 
which  we  have  somehow  lost  out  of  the  account.  You  have,  a  year 
less  for  improvement,  and  are  a  year  nearer  to  the  time  in  which 
you  will  begin  to  appear  like  a  young  vmman,  than  I  expected* 
I  know  not  but  I  should  have  been  pleased  to  find  that  I  had  made 
a  mistake  on  the  other  side,  and  that  you  were  younger  than  I 
bad  supposed  you.  As  it  is,  I  shall  hope  the  best ;  I  do  not  com- 
plain of  you.  As  I  love  you  dearly,  so  I  have  muih  comfort  in 
you  ;  and  I  trust  you  will  pray  to  the  Lord  for  yourself,  as  I  do 
for  you,  that  he  may  give  you  bis  grace,  and  wisdom,  and  bless- 


hex*  12.]  TO  MXSB  ♦•••.  S9T 

iog  ;  then  I  knovr  ynu  will  do  well.  Bat  sometimes  wheal  coo-' 
sider  what  a  world  you  are  growing  up  into,  and  what  snares  and 
dangers  young  people  are  exposed  to  with  little  experience  to  help 
them,  I  have  some  painful  feelings  for  you.  Th^  other  day  I 
was  at  Deptford,  and  saw  a  ship  launched  :  she  slipped  easily  in- 
to the  water ;  the  people  on  board  shouted  ;  the  ship  looked  tieaa 
and  gay,  she  was  fresh  painted  and  her  colours  flying.  But  I 
looked  at  her  with  a  sort  of  pity : — ''  Poor  ship,"  I  thought, 
**  you  are  now  in  port  and  in  safety  ;  but  ere  long  you  must  go  to- 
sea.  Who  can  tell  what  storms  you  may  meet  with  hereafter^ 
and  to  what  hazards  you  may  be  exposed  ;  h&w  weather-beaten 
you  may  Jbe  before  you  return  to  port  again,  or  whether  you  may 
return  at  all."  Then  my  thoughts  turned  from  the  ship  to  my 
child.  It  seemed  an  emblem  of  your  present  state  ;  you  are  now,, 
as  it  were,  in  a  safe  harbour ;  but  by  and  by  you  must  launch  out 
into  the  world,  which  may  well  be  compared  to  a  tempestuous^ 
sea.  I  could  even  now  almost  weep  at  the  resemblance  ;  but  I 
take  courage ;  my  hopes  are  greater  than  my  fears.  I  know 
there  is  an  infallible  Pilot,  who  has  the  winds  and  waves  at  his 
command.  There  is  hardly  a  day  passes  in  which  I  do  dot  en- 
treat him  to  take  charge  of  you.  Under  his  care  I  know  you  will 
be  safe  ;  he  can  guide  you  unhurt  amidst  the  storms,  and  rocks, 
and  dangers,  by  which  you  might  otherwise  suffer,  and  bring  you 
"nt  last  to  the  haven  of  eternal  rest.  I  hope  you  will  seek  him 
while  you  are  young,  and  I  am  sure  he  will  be  the  friend  of  them 
that  seek  him  sincerely  ;  then  you  will  be  happy,  and  I  shall  re- 
joice. IVotbiog  will  satisfy  me  but  this  ;  though  I  should  live  to 
see  you  settled  to  the  greatest  advantage  in  temporal  matters,  ex- 
cept you  love  him,  and  live  in  his  fear  and  favour,  you  would  ap- 
pear to  me  quite  miserable.  I  think  it  would  go  near  to  break 
ray  heart ;  for,  next  to  your  dear  mamma,  there  is  nothing  so  dear 
to  me  in  this  world  as  you.  But  the  Lord  gave  you  to  me,  and  I 
have  given  you  to  him  again,  many  and  many  a  time  upon  my 
knees,  and  therefore  I  hope  you  must,  and  will,  and  shall,  be  his. 
I  hardly  know  any  accomplishment  I  more  wish  you  to  attain, 
than  a  talent  of  writing  free  and  easy  letters ;  and  I  am  ready  to 
think,  if  you  could  freely  open  your  mind  to  me,  you  might  in- 
form me  of  something  I  should  be  glad  to  know,  or  you  might 
propose  to  roe  some  things  which  now  and  then  trouble  your 
thoughts,  and  thereby  give  me  an  opportunity  of  attempting  to 
relieve,  encourage,  or  direct  you.  For  these  reasons  I  have  re- 
quested of  your  governess  to  permit  you  now  and  then  to  seal  up 
your  letters  to  me  or  your  mamma  without  showing  them  to  her. 
I  have  asked  this  liberty  for  you,  only  when  you  write  to  us ; 
nor  even  then  always,  but  at  such  times  as  you  find  yourself  dis- 


398  TO  MISS  •♦••.  [Let.  IS. 

posed  to  write  more  freely  than  yon  coald  do  if  your  letters  were 
to  be  seen  before  you  send  them.  I  have  likewise  told  ber,  that  I 
woold  desire  you  to  be  as  careful  in  writing  as  if  she  was  to  see 
your  letters,  and  not  send  us  pot-hooks  and  hangers,  as  they  say, 
because  you  know  she  will  not  inspect  your  writing.  Under 
these  restrictions  she  has  promised  to  oblige  roe  ;  and  I  take  it  as 
a  favour ;  for  I  am  well  aware  that,  in  general,  it  is  by  no  DKans 
proper  that  young  people  at  school  should  write  letters  from  thence 
without  the  knowledge  of  their  governess.  But  yours  has  so  good 
an  opinion  of  you  and  me,  that  she  is  willing  to  trust  us,  and  I 
hope  we  shall  neither  of  us  make  an  improper  use  of  her  indul- 
gence. 

I  am,  with  great  tenderness, 
9ly  dear  child, 

Your  very  affectionate  fa\her. 


LETTER  Xni. 

• 

January  27,  1783. 
My  Dear  Child, 

Want  of  leisure,  and  npt  want  of  inclination,  prevented  my 
writing  before  you  left  home;  and  I  now  take  the  first  opportuni- 
ty that  has  offered  since  you  went  from  us.  If  I  liad  no  more 
correspondents  than  you  have,  you  would  hear  from  me  very  of- 
t^n ;  nor  can  I  expect  to  bear  from  you  so  often  as  I  wish,  be- 
cause I  consider  you  likewise  have  your  engagements ;  and  though^ 
perhaps,  I  am  not  willing  to  allow  that  your  business  is  so  impor- 
tant as  some  of  mine,  It  must,  and  ought,  for  tlie  present,  to  take 
up  a  good  deal  of  your  time.  You  have  not  only  reading,  and 
writing,  and  arithmetic  to  miad,  but  you  work  sprigs,  and  flow- 
ers, and  maps,  and  cut  bits  of  paper  to  pieces,  and  learn  a  strange 
language,  so  that  you  are  very  busy  to  be  sure  ;  for  idleness  and 
sauntering  are  very  great  evils,  and  doors  by  which  a  thousand 
temptations  and  mischiefs  may  en.ter.  Your  mamma  and  I  are 
well  pleased  with  you,  on  the  whole;  your  affection  is  not  lost 
upon  us  ;  we  think  we  can  perceive  an  improvement  in  you,  and 
we  believe  the  things  in  which  you  yet  fail  proceed  rather  from  in^ 
attention  than  from  the  want  of  a  desire  to  please  ;  and  we  have 
a  good  hope  that,  as  you  grow  older,  you  will  outgrow  that  heed- 
lessness which  you  sometimes  discover.  You  are  not  yet  a  wo- 
man, but  neither  are  you  a  child  ;  you  are  almost  fourteen,  and  ^t 
that  age  a  certain  degree  of  thought  and  forecast  may  be  hoped 
for,  which  it  would  have  been  unreasonable  to  expect  from  yon 


Let.  13.]  TO  MISS  «*»».  299 

some  few  years  ago.  It  has  pleased  G6d  to  give  you  a  capacitgr 
for  improvement ;  and,  as  you  see  we  are  so  situated,  that  neither 
your  mamma  nor  I  tan  bebtow  that  time  and  attention  upon  you, 
when  you  are  at  home,  which  we  would  wish,  I  hope  you  will 
make  the  best  use  you  possibly  can  of  the  opportunities  you  have 
at  school.  It  is  no  pleasure  to  us  that  you  should  live  so  much 
from  us,  for  we  love  you  dearly,  and  love  your  company  ;  but  it 
is  what  we  submit  to  for  your  advantage. 

You  desired  me  to  send  you  news,  when  I  should  write  ;  but  I 
have  little  to  tell  you.  The  public  news  you  will  hear,  I  suppose, 
from  twenty  people ;  it  is  very  important.  The  Lord  is  about  to 
give  us  the  blessing  of  peace.  Neither  you  nor  I  can  tell  the  value 
of  this  blessing,  because  we  have  not  known  the  want  of  it.  It 
is  true,  we  have  heard  much  talk  of  war,  and  we  have  heard  of 
the  calamities  which  war  has  occasioned  ;  but  we  have  heard  of 
them  as  things  which  have  happened  at  a  distance :  had  we  lived 
in  America,  we  should  probably  have  seen  and  felt  them.  We 
should  tiave  seen  towns  villages,  and  houses  in  flames ;  have 
heard  the  groans  of  widows  and  orphans  around  us ;  have  had 
every  thing  we  call  our  own  torn  from  us,  and  perhaps  have  been 
glad  to  hide  ourselves  in  the  woods,  to  save  ourselves.  Such  has 
been  the  lot  of  thousands  in  the  course  of  the  war.  If  you  re- 
member the  hurry,  confusion,  and  terror  which  prevailed  at  the 
(ime  of  the  riots,  it  may  give  you  some  apprehension  of  the  case 
of  those  who  live  in  a  country  which  is  the  seat  of  war.  Our 
apprehensions  i^ere  over  in  a  few  days ;  but  they  live  in  such 
alarms,  or  greater,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  year.  I 
hope,  therefore,  you  will  be  thankful  to  God,  if  he  is  pleased  to 
sheath  the  sword  of  war,  aud  to  put  a  stop  to  the  devastations  and 
the  slaughters  which  have  so  long  prevailed.  Though  you  your- 
self have  not  been  a  sufferer,  I  wish  you  to  cultivate  a  feeling  and 
benevolent  spirit,  a  disposition  to  compassionate,  if  you  cannot 
relieve,  the  distresses  of  others.  This,  n^xt  to  the  grace  of  God| 
is  the  brightest  ornament  of  human  nature ;  or  rather,  when  genU^ 
ine,  it  is  one  of  the  beskeffects  and  proofs  of  grace.  It  was  the 
mind  of  Jesus  the  Saviour ;  they  who  love  him,  will  in  a  degree 
resemble  him,  and  they  only.  A  hard-hearted,  unfeeling,  selfish 
Christian,  is  a  contradiction.  ^ 

When  you  think  what  multitudes  of  m^ikind  are  suffering  by 
war,  famine,  sickness,  storms,  earthquakes,  and  other  calamities, 
let  it  lead  your  thoughts  to  the  evil  of  sin,  which  brought  all  other 
evils  into  the  world.  But  what  is  sin  ?  I  endeavoured  to  tell  you 
last  Sunday,  from  J^.  ii.  11.  Sin  is  pretuming  to  do  our  own 
will  in  opposition  to  tfce  will  of  God,  who  is'  our  Creator,  Lawgiv- 
er, and  Benefactor.    Sy  sin  we  affect  indepen^oce  of  our  Crea^ 


400  TO  MIS8  «***«  [Let.  14. 

tor,  affiroD^  the  authority  of  our  rigfateoas  Lawgiveri  and  aieguil- 
ty  of  base  and  horrid  bgratitude  against  oar  greatest  and  kindest 
Benefactor.  If  you  could  form  a  Kttle  creature  and  make  it  live, 
if  it  hated  you  and  opposed  yoo,  slighted  your  Idndness,  and  took 
a  pleasure  in  displeasing  you,  would  you  not  soon  be  weary  of  it, 
and,  instead  of  feeding  and  taking  care  of  it^  be  provoked  to  tread 
it  under  your  feetf  But,  O  the  patience  of  God?  though  he  could 
destroy  rebellious  men  much  more  easily  than  you  can  kill  a  sp- 
der  or  a  beetle,  yet  be  waits  to  be  gracious,  and  has  so  loved  them 
as  to  send  his  own  Son  to  die  that  they  may  live.  Sin  has  not 
only  filled  the  world  with  wo,  but  it  was  the  cause  of  all  the  wo 
that  Jesus  enduredl  He  groaned,  and  wept,  and  sweat  blood, 
.  and  died  upon  the  cross,  only  because  we  had  sinned.  May  I  live 
to  see  you  duly  affected  with  the  evil  of  sin,  and  the  love  of  Je- 
sus ;  and  what  more  can  I  ask  for  youf 

1  am,  my  dear  child, 

Your  most  affectionate  father. 


LETTER  XIV. 

March  8, 1783. 
My  Dbab  Child, 

It  would  please  me  if  I  could  either  visit  you  or  write  to  you, 
or  both,  every  week.  But  it  cannot  be ;  1  am  behind-hand  with 
every  body.  ^  Yet  I  think  I  send  you  six  letters  for  one.  You 
stare  at  that ;  but  if  you  please  to  count  the  lines  in  one  of  your 
epistles,  and  the  letters  in  every  line,  and  then  compare  it  with 
one  of  mine,  ycoi  will  find  that  you  receive  many  more  words  and 
letters  than  you  return. 

You  sometimes  idliihate  that  you  are  afraid  of  death  ;  and  I 
wonder  not  at  it.  For  you  are  a  sinner,  but  I  hope  to  see  you  a 
believer,  and  then  you  will  not  greatly  fear  it,  while  it  is  at  a  dis- 
tance ;  and  whenever  it  comes  very  near,  you  will  not  fear  it  at  all. 
Mr.  ****  is  gone,  and  so  is  Mr.  ****,  and  neither  of  them  was 
more  afraid  of  death  than  you  would  be  afraid  of  .a  coach  that 
should  stop  at  the  gate  to  take  you  home  to  us.  Jesus  died  to 
make  death«8afe  and  comfortable  to  us.  Balaam  was  not  a  good 
man,  but  he  spoke  well  when  he  said,  ^*  Let  me  die  the  death  of 
the  righteous."  Make  that  prayer  for  yourself;  it  is  a  good  one, 
though  short.  Eutreat  the  Lord  to  number  you  amogst  the 
ri.i^hteous,  that  you  may  live  their  life ;  then  your  death  will  be 
like  theirs.  The  Scripture,  in  many  places,  speaks  of  the  right- 
eous and  the  wicked,  as  two  characters  which  divide  and  compre- 
hend all  mankind ;  and  yet  it  tells  us  that  there  is  none  righteous^ 


Let.  14.]  TO  BfiSB  «•«•«  401 

no,  not  one — ^that '  is,  there  is  none  righteous  by  natare  ;  sinners 
are  made  righteous  by  the  grace  of  God.  The  grace  of  God 
teaches  them  to  understand  what  they  read  of  a  Saviour,  and  of 
their  own  need  of  a  Saviour.  When  they  put  their  trust  in  him» 
their  sins  are  forgiven  them  for  bis  sal&e ;  and  when  they  rightly 
consider  his  love  to  them,  his  dying  for  their  sakes,  they  learn  to- 
love  him,  and  they  who  love  him,  must  and  will  hate  what  is  evil ; 
they  learn  to  resemble  him,  and  study  to  please  him ;  and  thus 
they  are  not  only  accepted  as  righteous  in  the  beloved,  but  they 
are  really  made  so ;  the  love  of  righteousness  is  implanted  in  their 
hearts ;  they  believe  what  the  Lord  says,  they  heartily  strive  to 
obey  his  commands,  to  avoid  what -be  forbids ;  they  place  their 
happiness  in  his  favour,  and  in  doing  his  will.  They  cannot  but 
speak  of  their  Saviour,'  and  what  he  has  done  for  them  ;  they  lave 
to  hear  others  speak  of  him,  and  they  love  to  hear  those  ministers 
who  preach  concerning  him  ;  but  their  religion  does  not  all  con- 
sist in  talking  and  hearing ;  they  are  upright,  gentle,  and  loving ; 
they  imitate  Him  who  went  about  doing  good.  The  evil  tempers 
of  self-will,  impatience,  pride,  envy,  anger,  and  malice,  are  put 
away  ;  they  cannot  allow  themselves  in  such  things ;  if  they  feel 
the  rising  of  such  things  in  their  hearts,  they  are  grieved  and 
ashamed,  and  are  glad  to  fly  to  the  throne  of  gtace  for  mercy  and 
help  against  them.  On  the  other  hand,  they  no  longer  seek  pleas- 
ure in  the  vanities  and  follies  of  the  world ;  they  hkve  better 
things  to  mind.  These  trifles  they  lay  aside,  as  we  forsake,  when 
we  grow  up,  the  playthings  which  pleased  us  while  we  were  child- 
ren. 

But  you  must  not  expect  all  this  at  once.  Look  at  a  great 
tree;  an  oak,  for  instance.  How  tall  it  is !  bow  wide  its  branches 
spread  !  and  if  you  were  to  dig,  you  would  find  it  has  deep  and 
wide-spreading  roots  in  proportion !  Yet  this  great  tree  sprang 
from  a  little  acorn ;  but  not  like  a  mushroom,  in  a  single  night :  it 
has  been  years  in  growing,  and  had  you  watched  it  every  day, 
you  would  hardly  have  perceived  that  it  grew  at  all.  May  I  not 
hope  that  there  is  at  least  a  little  seed  of  a  gracious  desire  already 
put  in  your  heart  f  If  so,  may  the  Lord,  who  alone  could  plant  it, 
water  it  with  his  blessing,  and  cause  it  ta  increase  ;'i(  not,  it  is  my 
daily  prayer  that  it  may  be  so ;  and  I  hope  it  is  your  prayer  for 
yourself.  I  pray  that  you  may  live  and  die  with  the  rights 
eons:  it  is  said  of  them,  They  have  hope  in  their  death ;  and 
that  when  they  see  him  approach,  they  shall  say,  **  O  deatb, 
where  is  thy  sting  !*' 

Your  mamma  and  I  love  you  dearly,  and  hope  we  shall  always 
have  reason  to  love  you  more  and  more. 

I  am  your  affectionate. 

Vol.  IV*  51 


409  TO  MI88  ****.  [Let.  1^. 

I-ETTERXV. 

May  12, 1783. 

I  HAVE  ju&t  now  received  my  cbild^s  short  and  sweet  letter ; 
and  having  nothing  to  prevent  me,  I  begin  my  answer  to  it  imme- 
diately. 

The  snow  does  not  often  cover  the  ground  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  London  so  late  as  the  8tb  of  May  ;  but  it  has  been  so 
sometimes.  One  reason  yon  were  surprised  at  the  sight  is,  be*- 
cause  you  are  young,  and  this  is  the  first  instance,  perhaps,  in  the 
few  years  yon  have  been  able  to  take  notice.  You  will  meet  with 
many  other  things,  as  you  grow  up,  which  will  surprise  you  for 
the  like  reasoii :  for  want  of  experience,  you  will  not  expect  them. 
We  expect  lowers  on  the  ground  in  May,  and  not  snow :  so  those 
pleasures,  the  prospects  of  which  present  themselves  to  your  mind, 
and  appear  at  a  distance  as  beautiful  as  we  usually  conceive  a  May 
morning  to  be,  when  we  talk  of  it  in  winter,  will  not  always  answer 
expectation.  When  the  time  comes,  something  which  you  did  not 
think  of,  unseasonable  as  snow  in  May,  will  come  with  it,  and 
you  will  be  surprised  and  disappointed ;  especially  at  first,  and 
till  you  are  used  to  these  changes.  By  the  time  you  are  as  oM 
as  I  am  now,  you  will  not  wonder  so  much  ;  and  I  hope,  long  be- 
fore that,  the  Lord  will  teach  you  to  profit  by  such  things.  It  is 
necessary  we  should  find  all  to  be  uncertain  and  unsatisfying  in 
die  present  world,  or  we  should  be  contented  with  it,  and  not 
think  of  a  better.  One  reason  why  young  people  are  but  sel- 
dom serious  is,  because  the  world  appears  so  pleasing  and  so  pro- 
mising. Th^  expect  roses  without  thorns,  and  May  without 
snow.  The  Lord  make  you  wise  by  tiroes,  that  you  may  re- 
member and  seek  him  now  in  the  days  of  your  youth,  before  the 
evil  days  come,  (for  come  they  will,)  when  you  will  find  no  plea- 
sure in  them. 

Such  days  are  come  very  early  to  Miss  B****.  I  wish,  if  it 
were  practicable,  that  all  the  misses  in  all  the  schools  in  London 
could  see  her.  What  are  the  pleasure  and  gaiety  which  the  most 
are  thinking  of,  now  to  her !  shut  up  as  she  is,  in  the  bloom  of 
life,  unable  to  move  herself,  and  with  pain  her  constant  compan- 
ion day  and  night !  I  have  been  much  afiected  with  looking  at 
her ;  but  I  believe  I  shall  not  see  her  long.  Within  these  three 
days  she  has  been  much  worse.  1  was  with  her  twice  yesterday  ; 
and  I  have  been  with  her  again  this  morning.  The  doctors  think 
she  cannot  live  many  days ;  and  she  thinks  so  too.  I  am  glad  to 
find  that  she  is  not  unwilling  to  die.  If  her  affliction  has  been 
sanctified  to  lead  her  heart  to  the  Lord,  then,  instead  of  greatly 


Let.  16.]  TO  MX9S  4HNHI*  403 

pit3riag  her,  we  shall  rejoice  in  her  behalf.  It  is  better  to  be  sick 
or  lame,  or  full  of  pain,  and  seeking  after  him  than  to  live  ^hat  b 
commonly  deemed  a  happy  life,  without  God  in  the  world. 

Cannot  you  contrive  to  put  your  lines  in,  a  little  closer  togeth-i 
er  ?  Your  paper  looks  like  a  half  furnished  room.  I  want  a  good 
long  letter ;  I  care  not  what  it  is  about,  so  that  you  write  easily. 
Fott  read  sometimes ;  cannot  you  find  somethiag  in  your  books 
to  tell  me  of  .^  You  walk  sometimes,  and  without  doubt  look  about 
you.  Take  notice  of  any  thing  that  strikes  your  eye ;  make 
some  reflection  or  observation  upon  it,  and  then  put  up  your 
thoughts  very  safely  in  a  comer  of  your  memory,  that  you  may 
send  them  to  me  the  next  time  you  write.  I  love  a  long  letter, 
especially  from  you,  because  I  love  you  a  great  deal. 

Adieu,  the  Lord  bless  you,  is  the  prayer  of 

Your  affectionate. 


LETTER  XVI. 

JIfay  19, 1783. 
Mr  Deab  Child, 

If  your  sensibility  drops  a  tear  or  two  when  yon  are  inform- 
ed that  your  aunt  C****  is  removed  from  this  world  of  sin  and 
sorrow,  I  have  no  objection ;  but  I  do  not  wish  you  to  shed  ma^ 
ny,  nor  is  there  just  cause  for  it.  If  we  could  see  her  now,  she 
would  surely  say,  ^*  Weep  not  for  me,  I  am  happy!''  Yes,  she 
knew  and  loved  the  Lord  ;  she  lived  in  his  faith  and  fear,  and  di- 
ed in  his  peace  and  favour ;  and  now  she  is  before  the  throne. 
She  had  her  share  of  trials  in  this  life,  but  they  are  all  over  now  : 
she  fought  the  good  fight,  and  the  Lord  made  her  more  than  con- 
queror. Now  she  has  received  the  conqueror's  crown,  and  is 
singing  the  conqueror's  song.  Methinks,  dearly  as  I  love  you,  I 
could  bear  to  part  with  you  likewise,  if  I  was  sure  that  the  Lord 
had  set  his  seal  of  love  upon  your  heart,  and  thereby  mark- 
ed you  for  his  own.  If  he  has  not  done  this  already,  I  hope  he 
will.  If  he  has  not  yet  taken  full  possession  of  your  heart,  I 
hope  you  are  sensible  that  he  is  standing,  as  it  were,  at  the  door, 
and  knocking,  waiting  to  be  gracious  to  yon.  The  door  of  the 
heart  is  not  easily  opened.  The  love  of  sin,  of  self^  and  the 
world,  are  so  many  bolts,  which  are  too  strong  for  us  to  remove 
by  ouc  own  power;  yet  he  can  open  it  easily,  fbecause  all  things 
are  easy  to  him,)  and  by  a  sweet  constraint  of  love,  force  himself 
an  entrance.  I  hope  you  are  willing  that  he  should  do  this ;  and 
that  you  are  not  willing  to  do  any  thing  on  your  part  that  may 


404  TO  M1S8  «••'•  [Let.  17. 

grieve  him  and  caase  him  to  withdraw  and  leave  yoa  to  year- 
self.  You  cannot  do  much  :  you  can,  indeed,  do  nothing  gpirit«- 
ualiy  of  yourself.  Yet  there  is  something  for  you  to  do ;  yoa 
are  to  wait,  and  pray,  and  long  for  his  blessing  ;  yon  are  to  read 
his  word,  and  to  endeavour  to  make  it  the  rule  of  your  conduct, 
so  far  as  yoo  undel^stand  it ;  you  are  to  attend  to  his  voice  in 
yeor  conscience,  and  not  wilfully  allow  yourself  in  what  you  know 
to  be  wrong.  This  is  the  path  in  which  my  heart's  desire  and 
prayer  is  that  you  may  walk  at  present ;  and  then  in  due  time  the 
promise  shall  be  fulfilled  to  you,  which  says,  ^*  Then  shall  yon 
know,  if  yon  follow  on  to  know  the  Lord  :'*  Hosea,  3.  vi. 

You  may  believe  we  had  some  weeping  at  home  upon  this  occa- 
sion. But  the  Lord  is  very  good.  Your  mamma  has  been  sup- 
ported, and  is  pretty  well. 

I  long  to  see  you,  and  especially  now,  that  we  may  read  Mr. 
Gray's  Elegy  together.  I  hope  we  shall  be  permitted  to  be  with 
you  on  the  faitious  exhibition-day ;  «and  I  please  myself  with  the 
thought,  that  ^u  will  appear  to  advantage.  I  wish,  for  your 
own  sake,  yon  cobld.  get  the  better  of  that  trepidation  and  hurry 
which  discomposes  you  ^wfaen  the  eyes  of  company  are  upon  you ; 
but  it  is  a  fauh  on  the  right  side,  and  much  better  than  a  bold, 
pert,  self-confident  carriage,  which  is  very  disgusting  in  soma 
young  people ;  but  there  isa  medium  which  I  wish  you  to  aim  at. 

I  am  your  a&ctionate. 


LETTER  XVn. 

Jiin«ll,1783. 
Mt  Dear  Child, 

I  THANK  yon  for  your  last  letter,  which  pleased  me  and 
your  mamma  very  much.  We  thought  it  well  written,  and 
#ell  expressed.  Take  as  much  care  as  you  please  how  yon 
write,  and  use  as  Kttle  study  as  you  please,  what  to  write. 
When  you  are  surrounded  with  the  beauties  of  nature,  you  need 
not  pozde  yourself  with  thinking  what  to  say  first ;  but  set  down 
first  what  first  occurs  to  your  mind  :  when  you  have  written  that, 
something  else  will  ofier.  Try  to  write  just  what  you  think,  and 
write  as  often  and  as  largely  as  your  many  important  businesses 
wiH  allow ;  for  nothing  but  practice  will  give  you  a  habit  of  writing 
easily :  and  practice  will  do  it.  We  could  fill  up  as  large  a  sheet  as 
you,  with  repeating  how  much  we  love  you  ;  I  hope  and  believe 
there  is  no  love  lost  on  either  side.  Love  will  make  you  desirous 
to  please  «nd  obligt  us,  and  love  will  prompt  us  to  do  every  tUag 


Let.  17.]  TO  HISS  •««».  405 

in  our  power  to  oblige  and  please  you  ;  and  90 1  hope  we  shall 
go  on  loving  and  pleasing  as  long  as  we  live. 

We  often  think  of  Monday  se'nnight,  when  we  hope  to  come 
and  see  your  exhibition.  I  promise  myself  that  your  part  will  do 
you  credit,  and  give  us  satisfaction.  I  could  like  to  come  over 
and  read  the  Elegy  with  yon  once  more ;  but  I  know  I  shall  not 
be  able,  and  I  believe  it  will  not  be  necessary.  I  doubt  not  but 
you  will  do  it  very  well,  especially  if  you  can  get  the  better  of 
your  diffidence  and  trepidation.  But  1  had  much  rather  see  you 
a  little  timid,  than  see  you  assuming  and  affected,  as  some  young 
people  are.  I  could  wish  you  to  have  just  so  much  feeUng  when 
you  begin,  as  might  intimate  a  respect  for  the  company ;  and  then 
that  you  should  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  poem,  so>  as,  in  a  man- 
ner, to  forget  every  body  present,  till  you  have  done.  There  is  a 
great  beauty  in  the  cadence  and  melody  of  the  verse,  if  you  can 
hit  it  off  without  overdoing  it.  If  you  understand  and  can  feel 
the  subject,  you  will  express  it  properly. 

I  hope  the  Elegy  will  likewise  lead  you  to  some  profitable  re- 
flections for  your  own  use,  and  which  may  excite  your  thankful- 
ness to  the  Lord.  To  him  you  owe  your  capacity,  and  to  him, 
likewise,  yon  are  indebted  for  the  advantages  you  have  of  culti- 
vation. It  is  possible,  that  among  the  children  we  meet  half  na- 
ked io  the  streets,  there  may  be  some  who  might  have  been  amia- 
ble and  admired  in  life,  if  they  had  been  favoured  with  the  helps 
which  the  good  providence  of  God  has  afforded  you.  But  they 
grew  up,  poor  things,  in  ignorance  and  wickedness,  after  the  ex- 
ample of  those  among  whom  they  live.  And  though  you  would  not 
have  been  like  these,  yet  it  is  probable  you  would  not  have  been, 
as  you  now  may,  and  I  hope  will  be,  if  the  Lord  had  not  sent  you 
to  us.  Though  you  were  deprived  of  your  own  parents  when  you 
were  very  young,  perhaps  no  child,  in  such  a  case,  has  had 
less  cause  to  feel  the  loss  ;  because  the  Lord  not  only  made 
ns  willing  to  take  care  of  yon,  but  gave  us,  immediately  on 
our  receiving  you,  a  tender  affection  for  yon,  as  if  you  had 
been  our  own ;  and  from  that  time  your  welfare  has  been  a 
very  principal  object  with  us.  You  have  been  guarded  against 
the  follies  and  vanities  which  might  otherwise  have  taken  an  early 
possession  of  your  mind  ;  and  you  have  been  acquainted  with  the 
means  of  grace,  and  the  blessed  Gospel.  I  trust  the  Lord  has  a 
gracious  design  to  lead  you  to  himself,  by  all  these  favourable 
circumstances  in  which  he  has  placed  you ;  for,  without  this  every 
thing  you  can  learn  or  attain  would  be  but  of  little  worth.  I 
wish,  indeed,  to  see  you  possessed  of  every  accomplishment  you 
can  acquire  at  school ;  but  nothing  will  satisfy  me  for  you  but 
the  grace  of  (Sod.  I  am  your  very  affectionate. 


406  TO  MISS  ****.  [Leu  18. 

LETTER  XVni. 

July  2%  1763. 
Mr  DfiAE  Great  GirLi 

Yoo  seem  to  take  it  for  granted  thai  I  roust  always  write 
first ;  and  you  see  I  very  readily  submiti  in  hope  that  when  your 
great  and  many  important  businesses  will  permiti  you  will  at 
least  oblige  me  with  an  answer ;  for  it  will  give  your  mamma  and 
me,  and  your  cousin,  pleasure  to  know  that  you  are  well. 

While  you  were  a  little  girl,  we  used,  when  you  came  home 

from  N ,  to  place  you  with  your  back  against  the  wall,  by 

the  fire-place  in  the  parlour,  and  compare  you  with  your  former 
marks,  that  we  might  notice  how  much  taller  you  grew  from  one 
half  year  to  another.  According  to  present  appearances,  yon 
are  likely  to  be  sufficiently  tall,  and  to  shoot  up  apace.  I  need  . 
not  measure,  for  I  can  perceive,  by  a  glance  of  the  eye,  that  you 
are  grown  every  time  you  return  to  us.  But  I  am  watching  your 
growth  in  another  sense  with  more  attention — I  wish  I  could  say 
with  more  satisfaction.  I  wish  to  see  you  outgrow  a  certain  child- 
ishness, which  once  looked  very  pretty  in  you,  but  is  by  no 
means  so  pleasing  in  a  person  of  your  years,  and  of  your  size ;  I 
think  I  may  add  of  your  sense  too,  for  I  know  the  Lord  has  given 
you  a  good  measure  of  understanding  and  natural  abilities  ;  so 
that  with  a  proper  degree  of  atti;ntion  and  application,  you  are 
very  capable  of  every  attainment  suitable  to  your  sex  and  your 
situation  in  life.  1  love  to  call  you  my  dear  child,  and  shall  pro- 
bably call  you  so  as  long  as  I  live,  because  there  is  something  to 
me  in  the  sound  of  the  word  child^  expressive  of  the  tenderness 
and  afiection  I  feel  for  you ;  but  I  would  not  always  have  you  a 
child  in  the  common  sense  of  the  word.  I  hope  you  will  not 
think  1  am  angry  with  you,  aud  I  hope  you  will  not  be  angry  with 
me  for  giving  you  this  hint. ' ,  I  love  to  see  .you  cheerful,  and  a 
little  occasional  volatility  in  a  young  person  favoured  with  health 
and  full  of  spirits,  is  very  tolerable  ;  but  then  I  would  have  you 
remember,  that  it  is  high  time  that  a  measure  of  thought,  and 
steadiness,  and  attention,  should  begin  to  mark  your  general  de- 
portment. Your  dear  mamma,  at  your  age,  was  capable  of  su- 
perintending the  afiairs  of  the  family,  and  was  actually  called  to 
it ;  and  you  are  now  old  enough,  if  you  will  do  yourself  justice, 
to  take  a  great  deal  of  care  off  from  her  hands  when  you  are  at 
home  ;  you  have  it  in  your  own  power  to  shorten  the  term  of  your 
living  away  from  us.  I  am  glad  that  though  you  like  your  school  ve- 
ry well,  yet  you  like  home  better ;  and  I  am  sure  we  shall  be  glad 
when  we  can  think  it  no  longer  neoessary  to  keep  you  abroad, 


JLct.  19J  TO  MISS  <HH».  407 

for  we  love  your  company,  and  it  is  principally  for  your  own 
sake  that  we  are  constrained  to  part  with  you.  But,  they  say,  a 
word  to  the  wise  is  enough,  and  therefore  I  shall  add  no  more  in 
this  strain. 

You  heard  several  of  my  sermons  on  Mary  and  Martha.  Last 
Sunday  night,  I  finished  the  subject  by  speaking  on  **  One  thing  is 
needful" — a  sentence  which  I  pray  the  Lord  to  write  upon  your 
heart.  Many  things  are  necessary  in  their  places ;  but  one  thing 
is  absolutely  needful.  It  is  right  that  you  should  be  diligent  at 
school,  obedient  and  obliging  to  your  governess  and  teachers,  and 
endeavour,  by  a  kind  and  gentle  behaviour,  to  gain  the  esteem 
of  your  school-fellows,  and  of  the  whole  family ;  a  regard  to 
the  one  thing  needful  is  very  consistent  with  all  this.  But 
though  you  were  beloved  by  every  body  that  knows  you,  you  can- 
not be  happy  eiccept  you  know  and  love  the  Lord.  The  one 
thing  needful,  therefore,  is  to  seek  him,  and  liis  favour,  which  is 
better  than  life  ;  and  if  you  ssek  him,  he  will  be  found  of  you. 
You  are  a  sinner,  and  need  forgiveness ;  you  have  many  wants, 
which  he  only  can  supply  ;  you  are  growing  up  in  a  world  which 
is  full  of  sins,  snares,  troubles  and  dangers.  Will  you  not  cry  to 
him,  then,  "  My  Father,  thou  art  the  guide  of  my  youth  !"  You 
have  encouragement  to  seek  him,  for  be  himself  both  ii^vites  and 
commands  you  to  do  it ;  and  if  obligations  and  gratitude  can 
prevail,  there  is  no  friend  like  him,  whose  mercies  are  new  every 
morning,  and  who  died  upon  the  cross  to  redeem  us  from  misery. 
1  commend  you  to  his  blessing. 

Your  cousin  is  much  as  she  was ;  she  sends  her  love  to  you. 
I  believe  she  loves  you  dearly,  and  I  believe  you  love  her.  f 
hope  you  will  both  love  each  other  as  long  as  you  live  upon  this 
earth  ;  and  that  afterwards  3'ou  will  meet  in  the  kingdom  of  love, 
and  be  happy  together  in  heaven  for  ever.  Mamma  sends  her 
best  love.  Believe  me  to  be  often  thinking  of  you,  and  praying 
for  you,  and  always  desirous  to  show  my  love  in  deed  and  in  truth. 

Your  afiectionate. 


LETTER  XIX. 

October  16,1783. 
Mt  Dear  Child, 

I  HOPE  you  will  now  be  able  to  rest  yourself:  for  you  have  had 
a  sad  hurrying  time  since  Midsummer.  So  much  visiting  and  run- 
ning about  has,  I  hope,  given  you  a  ripe  relish  for  the  retirement 
and  regularity  of  schooK     What  a  pretty  place  you  are  in,  and 


40&  TO  MISS  ••••.  (Let  19. 

what  a  pretty  time  of  life  it  is  with  you,  if  yon  can  bat  think  so, 
before  trouble  and  care  have  received  commission  to  disturb  yon. 

I  could  wish  that  all  my  letters  might  afibrd  you  both  pleasure 
and  profit :  I  would  make  you  smile  sometimes,  and  always  en- 
deavour to  do  you  good.  At  present  I  most  write  a  little  upon 
the  subject  of  temper.  I  do  not  think  your  temper  a  bad  one. 
Tou  mamma  and  \  are  always  ready  to  give  you  a  good  charac- 
ter, and  it  pleases  us  that  wa  can  say  you  are,  in  the  main,  aflec- 
tionate  and  obliging.  But  we  sometimes  observe  that  in  you, 
which  we  could  wish  nobody  took  notice  of  but  ourselves ;  or 
rather,  that  you  would  strive  to  get  quite  the  better  of  it,  that  we, 
who  love  you  so  dearly,  might  be  no  more  grieved.  It  is  a  cer- 
tain self-willed  impatience,  which  disposes  yon,  when  your  inclin- 
ations are  over-ruled,  or  when  any  thing  is  desired  of  yoti  which 
does  not  exactly  please  you,  to  pout,  frown,  and  alter  your 
countenance,  so  that  you  often  appear  to  a  disadvantage  in  com- 
pany. You  do  not  seem  to  find,  or  to  think  of  finding,  a  pleasure 
in  giving  up  any  thing,  to  please  your  mamma,  but  bad  rather 
have  your  own  way.  Now,  if  you  sit  down  and  consider  how 
much  we  love  you,  and  study  to  oblige  and  please  you,  1  hope 
you  will  strive  against  this  humoursome  temper.  I  call  it  so,  be- 
cause I  do  not  believe  it  is  owing  to  a  want  of  afiection  and  grati- 
tude on  your  part,  but  rather  the  efiect  of  a  something  in  your 
natural  temper,  which,  if  you  strive  against,  I  hope  you  will  be  en- 
abled to  overcome. 

Besides  what  you  owe  to  our  love  and  tenderness,  I  can  give 
you  a  further  reason  why  you  should  attend  to  this  point.  I  have 
told  you  repeatedly,  and  I  tell  you  again,  that  your  cousin's  com- 
ing to  live  with  us  will  not  make  the  slightest  alteration  in  our 
love  for  you.  You  are  still,  and  will  be,  our  own  dear  child  ;  we 
have  love  enough  for  you  both.  But,  in  the  outward  expression 
of  our  love,  something  must,  of  course,  depend  upon  behaviour. 
We  are  sometimes  obliged,  though  with  reluctance,  to  reprove 
and  contradict  you ;  now,  we  cannot  reprove  her,  because  she 
never  gives  us  an  opportunity.  In  the  seven  months  she  has  been 
with  us,  I  never  once  knew  her  debate  with  us,  nor  have  I  once 
seen  a  cloud  upon  her  brow  for  a  single  moment.  She  watches 
our  looks,  and  if  she  perceives  the  slightest  hint  that  any  thing 
she  proposes  is  not  quite  agreeable  to  us,  she  has  done  with  it  in 
a  moment,  and  gives  it  up  with  a  smile ;  which  shows  that  it 
costs  her  nothing,  but  that  she  really  prefers  pleasing  us  to  the 
pleasing  herself.  Now  you  must  allow,  my  dear,  that  this  be- 
haviour is  very  engaging.  I  wish  you  to  be  equally  engaging, 
and  not  to  seem  to  come  short  of  her  m  any  thing. 


Let.  20«]  TO  MI9S  4HM>«.  409 

Have  you  heard  of  your  good  friend  Mrs.  ****»s  illnesfi  ?  They 
have  no  expectation  of  her  recovery ;  nay,  perhaps  she  is  dead 
before  this  time.  How  well  she  seemed  when  wc  dined  there  but 
lately !  So  uncertain  is  life— even  youne  people  have  no  assurance 
of  continuing  here;  but  I  hope  you  will  pray  as  Davi4  did,  Psa. 
xxxiz.  4,  and  that  the  Lord  will  hear  your  prayer.  When  you 
come  to  know  him  as  your  Lord  and  Saviour,  you  may  sing  Sim- 
eon's song.  And  we  cannot  enjoy  life  with  true  comfort,  till  we 
(ire  delivered  from  the  fear  of  death.         I  am  your  affectionate. 


LETTER  XX. 

October  iS,  1783. 
My  Dear  Child,  k 

When  I  showed  my  last  letter  to  your  mamma,  I  thought  she 
looked  as  if  she  was  almost  unwilling  I  should  send  it ;  but  she  did 
not  say  so,  and  therefore  it  went.     She  is  unwilling  to  give  you 

f^iin,  and  so  am  L  But  I  persuaded  myself  you  would  take  it  (as 
meant  it)  as  a  proof  of  mv  love.  Now  and  then  I  must  gently 
give  you  a  word  of  advice,  but  it  will  always  be  much  more  pleas- 
ing to  me  to  commend  than  to  find  fault*  Your  welfare  is  very 
near  my  heart,  and  I  feel  a  warm  desire  that  your  behaviour,  in  ev- 
ery respect,  should  be  such  as  to  engaee  the  esteem  and  affection 
of  all  who  know  you.  I  remember,  when  you  were  a  litde  girl  at 
Northampton  school,  I  once  told  you,  in  a  letter,  that  when  the 
Lord,  in  his  providence,  sent  you  to  my  care,  I  received  you  as 
his  gift ;  and  in  the  pleasing  hope  of  being  an  instrument  lA  his 
hand  of  doing  you  good,  I  found  such  affection  for  you,  that  I 
would  not  part  with  you  for  your  weight  in  gold.  And  though 
you  are  much  heavier  now  than  you  were  then,  Icansay,t£e 
same  still. 

Mrs.  W****  had  been  ill  some  days  before  I  heard  of  it,  and 
then  I  was  told  she  was  at  the  point  of  death.  This  information, 
with  some  hindrances  and  difficulties  in  the  way,  prevented  mv  go- 
ing tQ  ;  so  that  I  did  not  see  her.    She  was  an  old  and 

kind  acquaintance,  and  though  of  late  years  I  was  not  often  in  her 
company,  I  feel  that  I  have  lost  a  friend  whom  1  loved.  Such  is 
the  state  of  this  world.  If  we  live  long  in  it,  we  must  exnect  to  see 
our  firiends  drop  off,  one  after  another,  ax  the  leaves  at  tois  season 
of  die  year  fall  from  the  trees.  But  the  pain  which  Christians  feel 
at  partmg  with  their  Christian  friends,  is  alleviated  by  two  consid- 
erations :  first,  that  now  they  are  gone,  they  are  much  more  happy 
than  they  could  be  here ;  and  secondly,  ne  tope  ^re  teng  to  ofe 
Vol.  iV.  82 


41 Q  TO  MISS  *»**•  P-iCt.  20. 

with  them  again,  and  to  share  in  their  sonp  and  joys  before  the 
throne  of  God.  This,  my  dear  child,  is  the  desire  of  my  soul  for 
you,  that  while  you  live,  and  when  you  die,  you  maybe  ifee  Lord^s. 
Nothing  but  this  will  satisfy  me.  And  for  this  I  ollen  pray.  My 
thoughts  and  prayers  are  often  employed  for  you,  when  perhaps 
you  are  asleep.  1  cannot  make  many  very  particular  requests  for 
you,  because  1  know  not  what  is  best  for  you  ;  but  when  I  pray 
that  you  may  have  wisdom  and  grace  to  seek  and  know  the  Liord, 
and  that  he  will  be  graciously  pleased  to  be  your  Saviour  and  Shep- 
herd, and  the  guide  of  your  youth,  I  am  sure  I  do  not  ask  amiss.  I 
have  a  cheerful  hope  that  he  will  put  you  among  his  children, 
guide  yon  through  this  wilderness  world  by  his  counsel,  and  after- 
wards receive  you  to  his  glory  y  and  that  he  sent  yon  to  me,  that 
you  might  have  the  benefit  of  those  means  of  grace  and  instruc- 
tions, which,  by  his  blessing,  will  be  effectual  to  make  you  wise 
unto  salvation. 

Though  he  alone  can  work  in  you  to  will,  and  to  do  according 
to  his  good  pleasure,  yet  there  is  something  incumbent  on  you. 
He  has  said,  ^*  They  who  seek  me,  shall  &nd  me.'^  You  must 
therefore  seek  him ;  and  he  is  not  far  from  you.  He  is  about 
your  bed,  and  about  your  path.  Yea,  he  is  still  nearer.  I  hope 
there  ^  seasons  when  you  can  perceive  him  knocking,  as  it 
were,  at  the  door  of  your  heart.  Do  not  you  at  times  perceive 
somethitig  within  you  bearing  witness  to  the  truths  of  his  word ; 
warning  you  of  the  evil  of  sin,  reminding  you  of  death  and 
eternity,  and  stirring  up  your  desires  towards  himself?  At  such 
times  you  may  be  sure  the  Lord  is  near.  He  made  the  heart,  and 
he  knows  how  to  affect  it.  Such  warnings  and  calls  from  his 
Good  Spirit,  I  can  recollect  when  I  was  a  child  younger  than  you ; 
I  can  remember  getting  into  corners  by  myself,  and  praying  with 
some  earnestness,  before  I  was  eight  years  old.  Afterwards,  alas ! 
I  proved  rebellious.  I  cast  off  his  fear,  and  would  have  my  own 
way»;  and  thereby  I  plunged  myself  into  abundance  of  sin  and 
misery.  But  I  hope  you  will  be  more  obedient.  Think  of  him 
as  often  as  you  can ;  make  a  point  of  praying  to  him  in  secret,  re- 
membering that-wh^n'  you  are  most  alone,  he  is  still  with  you. 
When  you  pray,  endeavour  simply  to  express  your  wants  and  feel- 
ings just  a^  if  you  were  speaking  to  me.  Fine  words  and  phrases, 
some  people  abound  in ;  but  true  prayer  is  the  genuine  language 
of  the  heart,  whidh  the  Lord  understands  and  accepts,  however 
brokenly  expressed.  The  woman  of  Canaan  only  said,  **  Lord 
help  me !''  The  pubHcan*s  prayer  was  almost  as  short,  "  God  be 
merciful  to  me  a  sinner :"  and  both  were  heard. 

The  Bible,  or  the  New  Testament,  is  frequently  used  at  school, 
as  a  school-book;  and  children  often  think  no  more  of  it  than  just 
10  read  their  appointed  lesson.     But  I  hope  you  will  consider  it  as 


Let.  21.]  I'D  MISS ««».  411 

God's  book,  and  when  you  take  it  in  hand,  open  it  with  reverence, 
and  read  with  attention,  as  you  think  you  would  if  you  expected  to 
hear  him  speak  to  you  with  an  audible  voice  from  heaven.  The 
plainest  and  most  affecting  part  of  the  Bible  is  the  history  of  our  Sav- 
iour in  the  evangelists ;  reaa  it  often,  that  you  may  be  well  acquaint- 
ed  with  it.  I  pray  him  to  enable  you  to  understand  wliat  you  read. 
Surely,  when  you  read  who  he  is^  what  he  did,  what  he  suffered, 
and  what  he  has  promised  to  pocH*  sinners,  you  will,  you  must, 
love  him !  And  if  you  once  love  him,  you  will  study  to  please 
him.  The  Lord  bless  you*  Give  our  love  to  your  governess,  and 
all  friends.  Believe  me  to  be  your  very  affectionate. 


LETTER  XXL 

October  30,  1783* 
My  Deak  Child, 

Though  I  lately  sent  you  a  long  letter  by  the  post,  which  I 
hope  you' received  on  Tuesday,  I  must  write  again ;  and  I  take  a 
new  pen,  and  a  sheet  of  gilt  paper,  that  I  nay,  in  the  best  manner 
I  can,  make  vou  a  return  for  your  letter  which  I  received  yester- 
day. I  would  not  delay  lon^  to  let  you  know  bow  much  your 
mamma  and  I  were  pleased  with  it.  ft  is  a  great  happiness  to  us 
that  we  are  well  assured  of  your  desire  and  intentiofi  to  oblige  us ; 
and  we  hope  not  to  be  behindhand  with  you* 

We  are  very  far  from  thinking  your  temper  is  bad ;  the  manner 
of  your  answer  is  a  proof  of  the  contrary.  You  may  Fometimes 
need  a  woitl  of  advice  or  admonition ;  1  believe  even  this  will  not 
be  often  necessary ;  and  when  there  is  occasion,  my  affection  will 

f>rompt  me  to  offer  it  with  so  much  tenderness,  that  it  shall  look  as 
ittle  like  reproof  as  possible  ;  abd  I  hope  and  expect  to  find  ma- 
ny more  occasions  for  commending  than  for  reprovm^  you. 

Should  it  please  the  Lord  to  spare  your  cousin,  a  time  will  come 
when  you  will  live  together,  and,  I  believe,  love  each  other  dear- 
ly. I  would  certainly  wish  you  to  imitate  her  in  any  thing  that 
you  see  is  commendable  ;  and  there  will  be  other  things,  I  trust,  in 
which  you  may  be  a  pattern  to  her.  Thus  you  may  be  mutually 
useful  to  each  other ;  and  we  will  love  you  both,  and  rejoice  in 
you  both.  We  shall  not  love  you  a  hair^s  breadth  th^  less  than, 
wc  should  have  done  if  we  had  never  seen  her. 

Indeed,  I  canivot  be  sufficiently  thankful  to  the  Lord/that  when  Ke^ 
was  pleased,  in  his  providence,  to  put  two  children  wider  my  care,, 
they  should  be  both  of  such  an  amiable,  affectionate  disposition, 
as  would  win  my  love  if  they  had  been  strangers,  and  not  so  near- 
ly related  as^ou  and  your  cousin  are  to  us.     And  though  I  con* 


413  TO  Mias  <^*^  [Let  94. 

sider  you  both  riow  as  my  own  children,  yet  you  are  still  my  eld- 
est, and  my  having  a  second  will  be  no  prejudice  to  your  birthright. 

I  have  not  a  bit  of  News  that  I  can  think  of  to  send  you.  Your 
mamma  is  pretty  well,  and  your  cousin  likewise ;  but  she  is  much 
confined,  for  if  the  weather  is  either  wet  or  cold,  we  cannot  ven- 
ture her  abroad.  She  does  not  seem  to  want  to  go  out,  except  to 
church.  When  we  arc  going  thither,  it  is  some  trial  to  her  to  be 
left  behind ;  but  she  is  satisfied,  because  she  thinks  her  aunt  is 
the  most  proper  judge  whether  she  can  go  with  safety  or  not. 

You,  my  dear,  are  favoured  with  health,  and  I  hope  you  will  be 
thankful  for  it.  Your  cousin,  and  twenty  other  youne  people  I 
^ouU  same,  know  the  value  of  health  by  the  want  of  it.  The 
Lord  can  make  sickness  a  blessing  when  he  is  pleased  to  send  it; 
but  still  a  good  state  of  health  is  a  great  privilege.  If  your  life 
should  be  prolonged,  it  may  be  a  good  while  before  increase  of 
years  makes  a  sensible  change  in  your  constitution,  but  you  will  feel 
it  at  last.  When  you  see  an  old  woman  tottering  about  with  a  stick, 
consider  that  she  was  once  as  young  as  you  are  now,  and  probably 
her  spirits  as  lively,  and  her  fimbs  as  agile  as  yours.  Suppose  it 
may  oe  fifty  years  before  you  are  like  her,  such  a  space,  which 
seems  long  beforehand,  will  seem  very  short  when  it  is  past;  and 
there  is  hardly  one  in  fifty  of  your  age,  that  will  be  alive  fifty  years 
hence. 

Dangers  stand  thick  through  all  the  ground. 

To  push  us  to  our  tomb ; 
And  fierce  diseases  wait  around, 
To  bun-y  mortals  home. 

How  just,  therefore,  and  important  is  that  advice,  *'  Remember  thy 
Creator  in  the  days  of  thy  youth,  before  the  evil  days  come !"  , 

And  whom  should  we  remember  if  we  forget  him?  Our  Creator 
is  our  Redeemer ;  Isa.  liv.  5 ;  the  Saviour,  the  Lover  of  Souls, 
who  assumed  our  nature,  that  he  might  be  capable  of  dying  for  us. 
Shall  we  not  remember  him  who  endured  agonies,  and  sweat  blood, 
and  hune  upon  the  cross,  that  we  might  escape  the  misery  we  have 
deservea,  and  be  made  the  children  of  God !  I  wish  the  poet's 
words  may  express  the  very  feeling  of  your  heart  and  mine : — 

Remember  thee ! — 
Yes,  from  the  table  of  my  memory 
I'll  wipe  away  all  trivial  fond  records, 
All  saws  of  books,  all  forms,  all  pressures  past, 
That  youth  and  observation  copied  there ; 
And  thy  commandment  all  alone  shall  lire 
Within  the  book  and  volume  of  my  brain, 
Unmix'd  with  baser  matter. 

I  commend  you  to  his  love,  and  pray  him  to  write  his  name  upon 
your  heart*    We  all  join  in  love  to  you. 

Believe  me  to  be  your  affectionate^ 


FIVE  LETTERS 

TO 

MR.  AND  MISS  M***»  B****. 


FIVE  LETTERS 

TO 

MR-  AND  MISS  M****  B****. 


LETTER  I. 
TO  MR.  B****, 

May  1,  1780. 
Mt  Deab  Sib, 

I  BLAME  myself,  and  ask  your  pardon,  for  not  writing  sooner. 
My  confinement  occasioned  me  so  many  visits  from  kind  friends, 
that  it  added  little  to  my  usual  time  of  leisure.  Your  first  letter, 
enclosing  Mr.  C****'s,  came  safe ;  as  did  the  second,  but  that  was 
posterior  to  mine  to  Miss  P****,  and  therefore  I  could  not  then 
acknowledge  it  I  now  thank  you  for  them  both,  and  for  that  dated 
the  27th  otApriL  As  the  news  of  your  illness  and  your  amend- 
ment came  together,  my  sympathy  was  concern  mixed  with  pleas- 
ure ;  and  having  as  much  that  seemed  to  require  immediate  atten- 
tion as  I  could  well  find  time*  for,  I  believe  the  hope  of  seeing  you 
soon  in  town,  made  me  the  more  easy  to  let  your  letter  lie  by  un- 
answered. ^ 

My  arm,  I  believe,  is  nearly,  if  not  quite  well,  excepting  a  stiffness 
in  it,  from  being  so  long  confined  in  one  position.  1  have  it  now 
as  much  out  of  the  sling  as  in  it.  I  hav6  been  able  to  wear  my 
coat  for  a  week  past ;  the  surgeon,  however,  thinks  it  prudent, 
though  not  necessary,  to  keep  on  my  bandage  for  a  few  days  lon- 
ger. I  believe  the  arm  has  advanced  as  happily,  as  speedily,  and 
with  as  little  pain,  as  possible. 

My  spirit  has  been  peaceful ;  it  is  a  small  thing  to  say  resigned, 
for  I  have  seen  it  a  dispensation  full  of  mercy,  and  have  not  oeen 
permitted  to  feel  a  wish  that  it  had  been  otherwise.  Especially  as, 
through  the  Lord's  mercy,  Mrs.  N^***  felt  no  abiding  ill  effect 
from  the  great  terror  she  was  at  first  seized  with,  and  which  I  feared 
might  have  brought  a  return  of  all  her  nervous  complaints.  But 
h^  is  very  gracious  to  us,  and  she  is  remarkably  well. 

I  think  you  must  have  suffered  more  than  I  have  done  of  late  f 
but  eur  faithful  and  good  Shepherd  affords  to  us  both,  strength  ac- 
cording to  our  day.    He  knows  our  frame,  and  wiU  lay  no  mor^ 


416  TO  SR«  ^^^^.  [LeU  U 

on  us  than  he  will  enable  us  to  bear :  yea,  I  trust,  no  more  than 
he  will  cause  to  work  for  our  jgood :  he  aelighteth  in  our  prosperi- 
ty ;  our  comforts  of  every  kind  come  free  and  undeserved.  But 
when  we  are  afflicted,  it  is  because  there  U  a  need-be  for  iu  He 
does  it  not  willingly.  Our  trials  are  either  salutary  medicines,  or 
honourable  appointments,  to  put  us  in  such  circumstances  as  may 
best  qualify  us  to  show  forth  bis  praise.  Usually  he  has  both 
these  ends  in  view ;  we  always  stand  in  need  of  correction  ;  and 
when  he  enables  us  to  suffer  with  patience,  we.are  then  happy  witJ^ 
nesses  to  others  of  the  truth  of  his  promises,  and  the  power  of  his 
grace  in  us.  For  nothing  but  the  mfluence  of  God's  good  Spirit 
can  keep  us,  at  such  times,  either  from  despondence  or  impatience. 
If  left  to  ourselves  in  trouble,  we  shall  either  sink  down  into  a  sul- 
len grief,  or  toss  and  rebel  like  a  wild  bull  in  a  net. 

Our  different  posts  are,  as  you  observe,  by  the  Lord's  wise  ap- 
pointment ;  and  therefore  must  be  best  for  us  respectively.  Mine 
IS  full  -of  trials  and  difficulties ;  indeed,  I  shoula  soon  make  sad 
work  of  it  without  his  continual  help,  and  should  have  reason  to 
tremble  every  moment,  if  he  did  not  maintain  in  me  a  humble  con- 
fidence that  he  will  help  me  to  the  end.  He  bids  me  ^^  Fear  not;'^ 
and  at  the  same  time  he  says,  ^^  Happy  is  the  man  that  feareth  ad- 
ways."  How  to  fear,  and  not  to  fear,  at  the  same  time,  is,  I  be* 
lieve,  one  branch  of  that  secret  of  the  Lord  which  none  can  under- 
stand but  bv  the  Ufaching  of  his  Spirit.  When  I  think  of  my  heart, 
of  the  world^of^e  power  of  darkness,  what  cause  of  continual  fear, 
I  am  on  an  enemy's  ground,  and  cannot  move  a  step  but  some 
snare  is  spread  for  my  fee^  But  when  I  think  of  the  person,  grace, 
power,  care,  and  faitnfulness  of  my  Saviour,  why  may  I  not  say,  I 
will  trust  and  not  be  afraid,  for  the  Lord  of  hosts  is  with  us,  the 
God  of  Jacob  is  our  refuse.  I  wish  to  be  delivered  from  anxious 
and  unbelieving  fear,  which  weakens  the  hands,  and  disquiets  the 
heart.  I  wish  to  increase  in  a  humble  jealousy  and  distrust  of  my- 
self, and  of  every  thing  about  me ;  I  am  imperfect  in  both  res- 
pects, but  I  hope  my  desire  is  to  Him  who  has  promised  to  do  all 
things  for  me. 

Your  desire  for  the  mortification  of  self,  in  every  view  and  form, 
is,  I  hope,  mine  likewise.  Yet  I  would  regulate  it  by  the  word  of 
God,  so  as  not  to  expect  more  than  is  promised.  I  cannot  proper- 
ly expect  a  perfect  exemption  from  conflict,  because  I  believe  it  is 
the  will  of  God  I  should  have  something  to  conflict  with  while  I  am 
here.  To  be  sensible  of  the  motions  of  sin  in  me,  watchful  against 
them,  humbled  for  them,  this  I  desire ;  and  I  believe  the  more  I  ad- 
vance in  grace,  the  more  feelingly  I  shall  say,  *<  Behold,  I  am  vile." 
But  desirable  and  precious  as  sanctification  is,  it  is  not,  I  trust  it 
will  never  be,  the  ground  of  my  hope.  Nor,  were  I  as  sinless  as 
an  angel  in  glory,  could  I  have  a  better  ground  of  hope  than  I 


L^.  2.]  TO  MR.  B»»«*«  417 

have  at  present.  For  acceptance,  I  rely,  (oh  that  I  indeed  did,) 
simply,  wholly,  and  solely,  upon  the  obedience  unto  death  of  my 
surety, — ^Jesus  is  my  righteousness,  my  life,  and  my  salvation,  I 
am  still  a  sinner ;  but  he  who  knew  no  sin  was  made  sin  for  me, 
that  I  might  be  the  righteousness  of  God  in  him.  This  right  to 
eternal  lire  by  believing  in  the  Son  of  God,  is,  in  my  view,  equal  in 
all  who  do  so  believe,  and  as  perfect  and  sure  when  they  first  be- 
believe,  as  at  the  last  moment  of  life ;  as  perfect  and  sure  in  the 
thief  on  the  cross,  as  in  an  apostle  or  martyr.  An  infant  is  as  truly 
alive  as  a  grown  person,  though  all  his  members  and  faculties,  are 
in  a  state  of  weakness.  Therefore,  with  respect  to  my  accept- 
ance, I  would  put  my  graces  as  much  out  of  the  question  as  my 
actual  sins.  That  wora  suited  me  at  first,  and  will  suit  me  to  the 
end — "  To  him  that  worketh  not,  but  belieVeth  on  him  who  justi- 
fied the  ungodly.'' 

This  morning  (May-day)  I  preached  for  Mr.  R****  a  sermon 
to  young  people ;  it  reminded  me  a  little  of  my  annual  new-year's 

sermon  at ;  but  though  I  had  some  liberty,  1  feel  a  difier- 

ence  between  speaking  to  one's  own  children,  and  those  of  ano- 
ther. They  were  my  own  proper  charge,  and  the  concern  of 
their  souls  was  laid  upon  me  with  a  peculiar  weight. 

I  am,  dear  Sir,  &c. 


LETTER  IL 

Dec.  3,  1780. 
My  Dear  Sib, 

The  Lord  is  risen  indeed.  This  is  his  day,  when  we  are 
called  to  meet  in  his  house,  and  (we  in  this  branch  of  his  family) 
to  rejoice  at  his  table.  I  meant  to  write  yesterday,  but  could  not. 
I  trust  it  is  not  unsuitable  to  the  design  and  privilege  of  this  day,  to 
give  you  a  morning  salutation  in  his  name ;  and  to  say,  Come  mag- 
nify the  Lord  with  me,  and  let  us  exalt  his  name  together.  If  I 
am  not  mistaken,  I  have  met  you  this  morning  already.  Were  you 
not  at  Gethsemane ;  have  you  not  been  at  Golgotha  ?  did  I  not  see 
you  at  the  tomb  ?  This  is  our  usual  circuit,  yours  and  mine,  on 
these  mornings,  indeed  every  morning ;  for  what  other  places  are 
worth  visiting  ?  what  oth^r  objects  are  worth  seeing  ?  O  this  won- 
derful love!  this  blood  of  sovereign  efficacy!  the  infallible  anti- 
dote which  kills  sin,  cures  the  sinner,  gives  sight  to  the  blind,  and 
life  to  the  dead.    How  often  have  I  known  it  turn  sorrow  into  joy. 

O  thou  Saviour  and  Sun  of  the  soul,  shine  forth  this  morning,  and 
cheer  and  gladden  all  our  hearts !  Shine  upon  me  and  luine,  upon 
all  whom  I  love,  and  on  all  who  love  thee !   Shine  gpwetfuUy  cm 

Vol.  IV.  53 


418  TO  Miu  B«»«»«  [Let  S. 

my  dear  friends  at ,  and  let  us  know  that,  though  we  are  ab- 
sent from  each  other,  thou  art  equally  near  to  us  all. 

I  must  to  breakfast,  then  dress,  and  away  to  court.  Oh  for  a 
sight  of  the  King !  and  oh  to  hear  him  speak !  for  his  voice  is  mn* 
lie,  and  his  person  is  beauty. — ^When  he  says,  Remember  me,  and 
the  heart  hears,  what  a  train  of  incidents  is  at  once  revived ! — ^from 
the  manger  to  the  cross,  what  he  said,  what  he  did,  how  be  lived, 
how  he  loved,  how  he  died ;  all  is  marvellous,  affecting,  humbling, 
transporting !  I  think  I  know  what  1  would  be,  and  what  I  wouH 
do  too  if  I  could.  ^  How  near  would  I  get,  how  low  would  I  Ml, 
how  would  1  weep  and  sing  in  a  breath ;  and  with  what  solemn 
earnestness  would  I  recommend  him  to  my  fellow  sinners*  But, 
alas !  when  I  would  do  good,  evil  is  present  with  me.  Pray  for 
Hie,  and  help  me  likewise  to  praise  the  Lord,  for  his  mercies  are 
new  every  morning  and  every  moment. 

I  am  your  affectionate. 


LETTER  m. 

January  8,  1781. 
JHy  Dear  Sir, 

In  my  peregrinations  to-day,  I  saw  Mr.  L*****,  Mr.  R****, 
and  Mrs.  G**** ;  Mr.  G****  called  here  while  I  was  abroad,  so 
that  I  missed  hearing  your  letter  to  him,  but  he  read  it  to  my  dear; 
and  1  have  seen  a  copy  of  your  son's  letter. 

I  understand  your  views  and  feelings  so  well,  that  my  letter  will 
not  have  such  an  air  of  condolence  as  some  people  might  expect 
on  a  like  occasion.  The  first  thing  that  strikes  me  respecting 
your  personal  concern  in  the  late  awful  calamity,  calls  rather  for 
congratulation.  I  see  your  beloved  son  preserved  in  the  midst  of 
eeneral  ruin ;  in  his  preservation  I  see  the  immediate,  the  wonder- 
Uil  hand  of  the  LorJ  stretched  out ;  I  consider  it  as  an  answer  to 
your  prayers ;  I  humbly  hope  it  is  a  token  of  further  good  respect- 
ing him,  and  that  the  restraining  word.  Destroy  it  not,  for  a  blessing 
is  in  it,  is  applicable  to  his  case.  I  find,  likewise,  that  bur  one  life 
was  lost  on  your  estate,  which,  to  a  mind  like  yours,  I  am  sure  is 
an  alleviating  circumstance.  For  the  rest,  I  am  sure  you  have  lost 
BOthing  but  what  He,  if  he  sees  it  good,  can  restore  with  a  large 
increase ;  nothing  that  is  directly  necessary  to  your  peace  and 
comfort  even  in  the  present  life ;  nothing  that  is  worth  naming 
when  compared  to  that  which  you  love  above  all.  You  may  still, 
and  I  trust  you  will,  find  the  Lord  as  near,  as  gracious,  and  the 
light  of  his  countenance  as  sweet,  as  cheering,  as  ever.  And  you 
hav€  an  estate  in  a  kingdom  which  cannot  be  shaken,  out  of  the 


Let  3.]  TO  MR.  BiNHw.  419 

reach  of  earthquakes,  hurricanes,  and  enemies.  Indeed  you  do  not 
think  you  have  lost  any  thing,  in  strictness  of  speech,  because  you 
have  been  taught  of  God  not  to  consider  any  thing  you  possess  a« 
properly  your  own.  You  feel  yourself  the  Loi-d's  servant  and 
3tewarcf,  and  whether  he  is  pleased  to  enlarge  orabndge  the  tal- 
ents he  has  intrusted  to  your  care,  your  chief  solicitude  in  either 
case,  is  to  be  faithful  to  every  intimation  of  his  will*  I  believe  that  if 
the  whole  produceof  Jamaica  centered  in  your  warehouses,  the  Lord 
would  not  permit  you  to  forget  that  you  are  a  stranger  and  pilgrim 
upon  earth;  and  I  believe  if  vou  were  not  to  receive  a  pepper- 
corn from  it  in  future,  he  would  still  make  you  happy  in  himself. 

1  judge  thus  for  what  he  has  done  for  you  alreacly  ;  he  has  giv« 
en  you  a  taste  and  a  desire  which  nothing  but  himself  can  satisfy ; 
he  has  shown  you  the  secret  of  his  holy  religion :  and  by  leading 
you  to  fix  your  dependence  upon  him,  has  raised  you  to  a  noble 
state  of  independence  with  regard  to  creatures  and  contingencies, 
which  are  all  in  his  hand,  and  can  do  us  neither  good  nor  harm 
but  of  bis  bidding. 

Barbadoes  and  Martinico,  it  seems,  have  sufTered  still  more.  It 
is  observable,  that  during  the  whole  summer,  while  we  and  the 
French  had  large  fleets  in  those  seas,  the  Lord  would  not  permit 
them  to  do  any  considerable  harm  on  either  side.  He  was  pleas- 
ed to  take  the  business  into  his  own  hands,  and  has  shown  us  how 
easily  he  can  strike  such  a  blow  as  shall  constrain  even  enemies 
to  commiserate  each  other. 

Mr.  P****  told  mc  this  morning,  that  it  is  supposed  Jersey  is 
taken.  Thus  the  cloud  grows  darker.  The  flames  of  war  arc 
still  spreading  wider,  and  difiiculties  seem  increasing  on  every  side. 
The  Lord's  hand  is  lifted  up;  men  will  not  see ;  thus  far  the  pro- 
phecy is  fulfilled.  1  tremble  at  what  may  further  concern  us  in  the 
folloi^ing  clause,  "  But,  they  shall  see !"  If  he  undertakes  to  make 
this  insensible  nation  know  that  he  is  the  Lord,  he  will  certainly 
accomplish  his  purpose.  What  it  may  cost  us  before  we  Icarn  the 
lesson,  who  can  say  ?  but  he  will  be  mindful  of  those  that  fear 
him.  That  word,  '*  It  shall  be  well  with  the  righteous,"  cannot 
be  broken.  Hitherto  the  nation  is  in  a  deep  sleep,  and  profes- 
sors, I  am  afraid,  are  sadly  slumbering.  I  can  hardly  find,  any 
where  around  me,  (alas !  that  I  cannot  find  in  myself,)  a  spirit  of 
humiliation  and  prayer,  in  any  degree  answerable  to  the  state  of 
the  times.  Oh  that  the  Lord  would  graciously  revive  us !  We 
have,  indeed,  abundance  of  preaching  and  abundance  of  hearers; 
there  are,  doubtless,  many  individuals  alive  and  in  earnest,  but  the 
bulk  of  those  who  avow  an  attachment  to  the  Gospel,  are  too  little 
affected  either  for  themselves  or  others. 

Mrs.  ****  is  pretty  well,  she  has  had  but  litde  complaint  since 
P***n  has  been  ill,  who  likewise  is  now  getting  better.    The  child 


420  TO  MISS  !!♦*♦♦  B****,  [Let.  4. 

scalded  her  foot  on  new-year's  day,  throogfa  mercy  but  slightly  : 
it  was  a  gentle  memorial  to  us  bow  entirely  dependent  we  are  on 
his  protection  for  safety  in  our  smoothest  hours*  We  are  frail 
and  feeble  creatures,  it  is  not  needful  to  raise  a  hurricane  to  de- 
stroy us ;  were  be  only  to  witlidraw  his  arm  for  a  moment,  some 
unthought-of  evil  would  presently  overwhelm  us.  It  did  not  pre- 
vent her  hearing  my  sermon  to  young  people  that  night,  but  she 
has  been  confined  to  the  house  since.  My  health  continues  firm^ 
and  I  am  enabled  to  preach  with  apparent  liberty,  with  what  ef- 
fect God  only  knows,  but  I  am  sometimes  afraid  there  is  more 
sound  than  power.  I  am  well  attended,  and  encouraged  to  hope 
tirat  I  do  not  labour  wholly  in  vain. 

May  the  grace  of  our  good  Shepherd  be  with  us  all..  Let  us 
praise  him  for  what  is  past,  and  cheerfully  trust  him  for  what  is 
to  come.  He  knows  where  and  what  we  are,  and  numbers  the 
very  hairs  of  our  heads.         1  am,  most  affectionately. 

Your  much  obliged,  &£c. 


LETTER  IV.. 

March  13, 1781. 
My  Dear  Miss  M****, 

If  wishes  and  purposes  were  always  effectual,  I  should  not 
have  been  so  long  three  letters  in  debt  to  your  bouse  ;  I  would 
answer  all  if  I  could,  but  perhaps  it  will  take  the  leisure  of  two  or 
three  mornings  to  answer  one,  and  the  first  must  be  to  you,  be- 
cause it  is  so  seldom  I  have  one  from  you  to  answer. 

I  saw  Mr.  ****  yesterday  :  he  informed  me  of  Mr.  ****'s  dteath; 
though  I  knew  him  not,  I  felt  it  as  an  event  in  which  my  dear 
Mr.  B****  is  concerned ;  and  indeed  the  suddenness  of  it  struck  roe. 
The  uncertainty  of  life  has  been  a  theme  for  declamation  in  all 
ages,  but  by  how  few  is  it  practically  laid  to  heart !  Happy  they 
who  know  whom  they  have  believed,  and  are  waiting  with  desire 
bis  recall  home  to  himself,  that  they  may  see  him  as  he  is !  1  am 
bound  to  pray  that  this  bereaving  stroke  may  be  sanctified  to  his 
family.  But  Mr.  *•**  told  me  something  that  affected  me  still 
more  nearly.  He  says  that  Mrs.  B****  has  been  worse  this  fort- 
night past.  I  believe  I  am  foolish  and  inconsistent,  but  I  cannot 
help  it.  When  the  Lord  has  taken  her  to  himself,  I  hope  I  shall 
say,  "  Thy  will  be  done."  I  hope  I  shall  follow  her  with  my 
thoughts,  and  feel  some  satisfaotion  in  thinking — ^Now  she  is  out 
of  the  reach  of  pain  and  sorrow  for  ever ;  now  she  sees  her  S|iv- 
iour's  face  without  a  veil,  and  sings  his  praise  without  the  inter- 


Let.  4.]  to  MISS  M****  B****.  421 

niption  of  a  single  sigb ;.  now  she  is  a  pillar  of  the  heavenly  tem- 
ple,  and  shall  go  no  more  oot.  But  at  present,  and  while  sheis 
continoed  with  us,  I  fe^l  an  anxiety  and  a  desire,  which  I  fear  are 
wrong :  I  feel  unwilling  to  lose  such  a  friend  ;  and  I  am  sure  I 
feel  for  those  who  are  more  nearly  interested  in  her  than  myself. 

Tell  her,  dear  Miss  M.,  that  Mrs.  N.  and  I  are  not  wiliing  to 
think  any  but  her  own  children  can  exceed  us  in  love  and  sympa- 
thy ;  that  we  shall  be  thinking  of  her,  speaking  of  her,  and  (I 
hope)  praying  for  her  daily,  and  for  you  all.  Well,  let  the  flesh 
say  what  it  will,  we  know  that  all  is  well.  We  cannot  love  her 
so  well  as  He  that  bought  her  with  his  blood.  And,  ah !  how 
faiiu  is  our  tenderness  compared  with  his.  He  will  not  let  his 
children  feel  one  pain  too  many,  or  too  sharp.  He  will  enable 
them  to  glorify  him  even  in  the  fire,  and  he  will  soon  wipe  away 
every  tear. 

I  am  glad  to  find  that  the  Lord  leads  you  further  and  deeper 
into  the  mysteries  of  his  salvation.  As  a  theory  it  may  be  express- 
ed in  a  few  words  ;  but  to  live  a  life  of  faith  on  the  Son  of  God 
as  our  wisdom,  righteousness,  and  strength,  considered  as  a  mat- 
ter of  experience^  is  what  we  usually  attain  to  by  slow  degrees, 
and  at  best,  but  imperfectly.  We  are  always  capable  of  further  ad- 
vances, and  are  frequently  obliged  to  learn  over  again  that  which 
we  thought  we  had  learned  already.  My  sentiments  on  this  point 
seem  tolerably  clear,  but  in  practice  I  fall  sadly  short,  and  feel 
that  the  principles  of  self  and  unbelief,  are  still  deeply  rooted  in 
me.  However,  I  trust  I  am  in  the  school  of  the  great  Teacher, 
and  1  humbly  hope  he  will  carry  on  the  work  he  has  begun.  What 
I  want,  what  I  pray  for,  is  a  simple,  dependent  spirit,  to  be  will- 
ing to  put  myself  entirely  into  his  hands,  to  follow  him  without 
asking  questions,  to  believe  him  without  making  objections,  and 
to  receive  and  expect  every  thing  in  his  own  time  and  in  his  way. 
This  is  the  course  we  take  when  we  consult  an  earthly  physician  ; 
we  consult  him,  but  we  do  not  pretend  to  direct  him.  Thus  would 
1  give  myself  up  to  my  heavenly,  infallible  physician  ;  but  this  is 
one  branch  of  the  good  which,  when  I  would  do,  I  find  evil  is  pre- 
sent with  me.  But  it  is  likewise  one  part  of  the  sickness  I  groan 
under,  and  which  he  has  in  mercy  undertaken  to  cure  ;  and 
therefore,  though  I  am  very  sick  indeed,  I  trust  I  shall  not  die, 
but  live  and  declare  bis  wonderful  works. 

I  long  aimed  to  be  something.  I  now  wish  I  was  more  heartily 
willing  to  be  nothing.  A  cypher,  a  round  0  is  by  itself  a  thing 
of  no  value,  and  a  million  of  them  set  in  a  row  amounts  to  no 
more  than  a  single  one  ;  but  place  a  significant  figure  before  the 
row,  and  you  may  soon  express  a  lau*ger  number  than  you  can 
well  conceive.     Thus  my  wisdom  is  0,  n>y  righteousness  is  0,  my 


42a  TO  HI88  ■**«*  B»***.  [Let.  6. 

strength  is  0.  But  put  the  wisdom,  power,  and  grace  of  Jesus  be* 
fore  them,  let  me  be  united  to  him,  let  his  power  rest  upon  my 
weakness,  and  be  magnified  in  it,  in  this  way  I  shall  be  something. 
Not  in  and  of  myself,  but  in  and  from  Him.  Thus  the  apostle 
speaks  of  being  filled  with  all  thefutaess  of  God.  What  an  amaz-' 
ing  expression  !  Thus,  so  far  as  we  die  to  self,  Christ  liveth  in  us. 
He  is  the  light  by  which  we  see  ;  He  is  the  life  by  which  we  live  ; 
He  is  the  strength  by  which  we  walk,  and  by  his  immediate  virtue 
and  induence,  all  our  works  and  fruits  are  produced.  We  have  no 
sufficiency  in  ourselves,  but  We  have  all-sufficiency  in  Him,  and  at 
one  and  the  same  time  we  feel  a  conviction  that  we  can  do  no- 
thing, and  an  ability  to  do  all  things  that  fall  within  the  line  of 
our  calling.  Wlien  I  am  weak,  then  I  an  strong. 
1  am,  dear  Miss  M****, 

Your  very  affectionate  and  obliged  servant 


LETTER  V. 

April  12,  1781. 
My  Dear  Miss  M»*»*, 

Accept  my  sincere,  though  rather  tardy  thanks  fur  your  fa- 
vour of  the  1 1th  February  ;  I  beg  you  likewise  to  accept  my  as^ 
surance,  that  if  leisure  and  opportunity  were  with  me  in  any  pro- 
portion to  my  inclioation,  your  letters  would  be  very  speedily 
answered. 

I  knew  you  would  be  a  favourable  reader  of  Cardipbouia. 
Your  kind  partiality  to  the  writer  would  dispose  you  to  put  the 
best  construction  on  what  voo  read  ;  and  your  attachment  to  the 
design  and  principal  subject  of  the  letters,  would  make  them  wel- 
come to  you.  We  can  put  op  with  smaller  faults,  when  a  per- 
son is  disposed  to  praise  them  whom  we  dearly  love.  I  trust  my 
pen  is  chiefly  devoted  to  the  praise  of  Jesus,  your  beloved;  and  so 
far  as  I  succeeded,  I  am  sure  what  I  write  will  be  acceptable  to 
you.  How  can  1  but  wish  to  praise  him,  when  he  has  snatched  me 
as  a  brand  from  the  buniing,  and  quenched  the  fire  of  my  sins  in 
his  own  blood  !  How  can  t  but  praise  him,  if  he  has  given  me  a 
glance  of  his  excellency  !  If  any  do  not  love  him,  it  is  surely  be- 
cause they  do  not  know  him.  To  see  him  but  once  with  the  eye 
of  the  soul  is  to  be  convinced  that  He  is  the  chief  among  ten  thou- 
sand, and  altogether  lovely.  His  person  is  glory,  his  name  is 
love,  his  work,  fro.m  first  to  last,  is  grace.  The  moment  the  sin* 
ner  is  enabled  to  behold  him,  he  is  seiied  with  gi'eater  admiration 
iljan  the  Queen  ot  Sheba  felt  when  brought  into  tlie  presence  of 


Let.  6,]  TO  HISS  !!♦♦♦*  B****.  423 

Solomon  ;  and  is  convinced  that  they  only  are  happy  who,  as 
children  and  servants  in  his  family,  stand  continually  before  him, 
to  watt  upon  bim|  admire  him,  and  hear  his  wisdom.  But,  ah  ! 
bow  faint  are  my  conceptions  ;  how  little  do  I  know  of  him  !  and 
how  little  of  that  little  which  I  deem  my  knowledge,  is  realized  to 
my  heart !  What  trifles  are  sufficient  to  hide  him  from  my  view, 
and  to  make  me  almost  forget  that  he  is  nearer  to  me  than  any 
object  that  strikes  my  sense !  Is  it  so  with  you  ?  Let  ns  at  least 
rejoice  in  prospect  of  the  promised  hour,  when  veils,  and  clouds, 
and  walls  shall  be  removed,  and  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is  ;  so 
see  him,  as  to  have  all  our  desires  satisfied  in  him,  and  fixed 
upbn  him,  and  to  be  completely  transformed  into  his  image. 

My  mind  frequently  anticipates  the  pleasure  I  propose  in  a  visit 
to  B— ,  but  it  is  not  likely  to  take  place  so  soon  as  I  wished.  I 
had  hoped  to  leave  London  soon  after  Easter,  but  circumstances 
are  likely  to  forbid  it.  My  times  are  in  the  Lord's  baud,  and  if 
be  sees  it  best  for  me  to  be  gratified^  be  will  make  it  practicable, 
and  his  providence  will  likewise  determine  the  fittest  season.  I 
I  wish  not  to  be  impatient,  but  to  refer  myself  to  him.  This  is 
certain,  when  he  opens  the  door,  and  says.  Go,  I  shall  set  ofi*  with 
alacrity,  for  I  long  to  walk  upon  that  lawn,  and  to  sit  in  that  tub^ 
and  to  converse  with  those  dear  firiends  who  have,  deservedly,  so 
much  of  my  heart. 

Thank  Miss  M****  for  her  letter.  We  rejoice  to  hear  that 
j'our  dear  mamma  is  better.  I  believe  I  think  of  her  daily,  and 
often  in  the  day  ;  and  this  not  only  for  the  love  I  bear  her,  but 
for  my  own  relief. — Mrs.  N.  is  often  ill,  sufficiently  so  to  awaken 
my  feelings  for  her.  But  when  I  reflect  how  the  power,  grace, 
and  faithfulness  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  support  under  much  se- 
verer trials,  it  disposes  me,  in  some  measure,  to  submission,  thank- 
fulness, and  confidence.  Our  trials  are  light,  ourselves  being 
judges :  But  I  see  that  he  can  make  those  that  appear  to  be  heavi- 
est tolerable.  I  shall  certainly  write  before  I  come,  when  I  can 
fix  the  time,  and  then,  except  something  extraordinary  interferes 
to  require  it,  I  shall  not  easily  alter  my  plan,  for  if  we  cannot  be 
with  convenience  in  the  same  house,  it  will  be  worth  something  to 
be  in  the  same  town,  and  just  to  look  at  Mrs.  B.  a  few  minutes 
occasionally,  if  sl)^  can  bear  to  receive  us,  and  if  she  can  be^r  no 
more.  For  I  believe  another  interview  with  her,  before  the  Lord 
sends  his  chariot  and  angels  to  remove  her  from  this  land  of  sor- 
row, will  be  the  principal  and  most  interesting  object  of  our 
journey.  Our  other  friends,  if  we  are  spared,  we  may  hope  to  se^ 
at  some  future  time.  I  consider  her  as  in  the  situation  of  the 
apostle  when  he  wrote  3  Tim.  iv.  6. 


424  T©  MISS  M****  B****.  [Let.  5. 

I  am  preparing  materials  for  two  more  volumes  of  Cardipbo- 
nia.  My  present  thought  is,  to  have  them  ready  for  publication 
at  a  time  when  my  pen  will  no  longer  be  able  to  move.  Wheth- 
er any  circumstances  may  send  them  abroad  sooner  I  know  not ; 
but,  at  my  time  of  life,  I  ought  to  consider  that  period  as  not 
likely  to  be  at  a  very  great  distance.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  im- 
patient for  its  arrival ;  but  I  do  wish  my  willingness  to  live 
longer  here,  was  more  simply  and  solely  from  a  desire'  of  promo- 
ting my  Lord's  service,  and  the  edification  of  his  children ;  I  hope 
this  is  not  out  of  my  mind,  but  I  am  afraid  it  is  shamefully  det^a- 
sed  by  an  undu^  attachment  to  earthly  things,  and  a  want  oT 
spirituality.  I  am  yours,  Sz4:. 


A  LETTER 


TO 


June  8,  1780. 
Mv  Dear  Madam, 

Though  I  write  to  both  when  I  write  to  one,  it  seems  time  to 
drop  a  word  expressly  to  you,  that  I  may  keep  you  in  my  debt, 
and  maintain  a  hope  of  hearing  from  you  again. 

I  sympathize  with  my  friends  at ,  under  the  afflictive  dis- 

Bjnsations  with  which  the  Lord  has  been  pleased  to  visit  the  town, 
e  has  a  merciful  design  even  when  he  inflicts,  and  I  hope  the  rod 
will  be  sanctified  to  those  who  are  too  negligent  under  the  public 
means  of  grace.  1  am  not  sorry  for  Mrs.  H****'s  death,  as  you 
sa  V  she  died  in  the  Lord,  for  she  bad  but  little  prospect  of  tempo- 
ral comfort.  The  death  ol  Mrs.  ***  affected  me  more  on  account 
of  her  husband  and  family,  to  whom  I  hoped  she  would  have  been 
a  comfort  and  a  blessing.  But  we  are  sure  the  Lord  does  all 
things  wisely  and  well.  The  moment  in  which  he  calls  his  people 
home,  is  precisely  the  best  and  fittest  season.  Let  us  pray  (and 
we  shall  not  pray  in  vain)  for  strength  proportioned  to  our  day ; 
then  we  have  onlvto  wait  with  patience;  our  time  likewise  will 
shortly  come.  The  bright,  important  hour  of  dismission  from  this 
state  of  trial  is  already  upon  the  wing  towards  us,  and  every 
pulse  brings  it  nearer.  Then  every  wound  will  be  healed,  and 
every  desirable  desire  be  satisfied. 

I  believe  you  mast  now  take  the  will  for  the  deed,  and  give  me 

credit  for  what  I  would  have  said  or  written  if  I  could.     Mrs. 

came  in  and  engrossed  the  time  I  had  allotted  for  your  letter.  I 
knew  not  how  to  grudge  it  her ;  she  had  wished  to  spend  an  hodr 
with  me ;  her  conversation,  I  think,  was  from  the  heart,  and  I  be- 
lieve the  interruption  was  right.  If  it  should  abridge  the  pleasure 
I  proposed  in  writing  to  you,  I  must  make  myself  amends  some 
other  time. 

Mrs.  N has  some  degree  of  the  head-ache  to-day.    But  her 

complaints  of  that  kijid  are  neither  so  frequent,  nor  so  violent,  as 

when  at .     His  mercies  to  us  are  great,  and  renewed  every 

morning. 

I  have  still  a  quarter  of  an  hour  for  you  ;  but  now,  when  opportu- 
nity presents,  a  subject  is  not  at  hand,  and  I  have  no  time  to  rami- 

Voi-.  IV.  §4 


436  TO  •«»•. 

nate.  I  will  tell  vou  a  piece  of  old  news.  The  Lord  God  is  a  sun 
and  shield,  and  both  in  one.  His  light  is  a  defence :  his  protec- 
tion is  cheering  *,  a  shield  so  long,  and  so  broad,  as  to  intercept 
and  receive  every  ar^ow  with  which  the  quiver  of  divine  justice 
was  stored,  and  which  would  have  otherwise  transfixed  your  heart 
and  mine ;  a  shield  so  strong  that  nothing  now  can  pierce  it,  and 
so  appositely  placed  that  no  evil  can  reacn  us,  except  it  first  makes 
its  way  through  oar  shiield.  And  what  a  sun  is  this  shield !  when 
it  breaks  forth  it  changes  winter  into  sumoier,  and  midnight  into 
day,  in  an  instant;  a  sun  whose  beams  can  not  only  scatter  clouds, 
but  the  walls  which  Sin  and  Satan  are  aiming  to  build,  in  order  to 
hide  it  firom  our  view. 

Public  aflbirs  begin  to  look  more  pleasing  just  when  they  were 
most  desperate*  Affairs  in  America  are  in  a  more  favourable  train. 
A  peace  with  Spain  supposed  upon  the  tapU.  I  should  hope  for 
some  halcyon  davs  after  the  storm,  but  for  the  awful  insensibility 
which  reigns  at  home.  But  if  the  Lord  revives  his  people,  we 
may  hope  he  will  hear  their  prayers. 

Mr.  ****  bids  £aiir  to  be  as  unpopular  in  the  course  of  ano-' 
ther  month  as  any  of  his  opponents  have  been.  This  is  a  change- 
able world.  The  inns  and  the  outs,  being  fastened  upon  the  same 
Tolling  wheel,  have  each  their  turn  to  be  uppermost*  Really,  one 
is  tempted  to  smile  and  constrained  to  weep  in  the  same  breath.— 
The  Lord  bless  yon  and  ke^p  you. 

I  am,  for  self  and  partner, 

Most  affectionately  youra. 


THREE  LETTERS 

TO 
MISS    G**«. 


LETT£R  f . 

•  /illy  11,  178$* 

Madam, 

I  HAVE  been  mach  affected  with  your  present  situation,  and 
«inth  the  case  which  you  did  me  the  honour  to  propose  me  for  my 
own  judgment.  I  hope  it  is  from  some  real  sense  of  my  own  weak- 
ness, that  I  usually  undertake  the  office  oS  casuist  with  fear  and 
trembling.  How  unhappy  should  I  be  to  mislead  vou  in  a  point 
of  such  importance !  How  cruel,  to  wish  you  to  be  determined  by 
my  decision,  except  I  am  sure  it  is  warranted  by  the  word  of  Goo! 
Indeed,  you  have  been  hardly  out  of  m^  thoughts  sinee  I  saw  you 
in  the  garden.  I  have  considered,  agam  and  again,  the  advice  I 
ventured  to  give  you,  and  I  am  the  more  confirmed  in  the  proprie- 
ty of  it ;  and  in  a  persuasion  that  if  the  Lord  (for  what  are  our  re- 
solves without  him  ?)  enables  you  to  act  the  part  which  you  seemed 
to  be  satisfied  was  right,  you  will  never  have  iust  cause  to  blame 
either  yourself  or  me.  i  think  the  Lord  highly  honours  you,  by 
permitting  you  to  be  brought  to  such  a  trial,  and  thereby  putting 
it  in  your  power  of  giving  Doth  to  the  church  and  to  the  world,  (so 
far  as  you  are  known,)  such  a  singular  and  striking  proof  of  die 
sincerity  of  your  heart  towards  him.  Surely  I  shall  not  cease  to 
pray,  that  he  who  has  wrought  in  you  to  will,  may  strengthen  you 
with  his  power  to  act  accordingly ;  and  that  you  may  do  it  witli 
cheerfulness.  You  have  good  reason  for  it,  madam.  He  for 
whose  sake  you  are  about  to  reject  what  many  would  eagerly  re- 
ceive, deserves  it  well  at  your  hands.  He  ^ve  up  much  more 
for  you ;  he  became  very  poor  that  you  might  be  rich.  And 
though  he  was  once  poor  for  us,  he  is  now  rich  again:  ricl;^  enough 
to  make  you  ample  amends  for  all  you  give  up.  be  not  afraid.  His 
own  kind  providence  will  take  charge  of  you,  and  surelv  do  you 
good.  Were  your  conduct  generally  known,  you  would  be  blam- 
ed or  pitied,  by  those  who  know  of  nothing  better  thad  sold,  and 
such  toys  as  gold  can  purchase.  But  they  will  neither  blame  nor 
pity  you  in  the  ereat  day  of  vour  Lord's  appearance.  When  I  see  so 
much  interestea  and  formal  profession,  1  should  be  almost  dtscou- 


438  TO  MISS  ««•«.  [Let.  2. 

raged,  were  it  not  tbat  the  Lord  has  given  me  to  know  a  happy 
and  ftivoured  few,  whose  conduct  exemplifies  and  adorns  the  glo- 
rious gospel  they  profess*  In  them  I  see  a  simplicity,  a  spiritual- 
ity, a  dismteresteaness,  a  submission,  and  a  ready  obedience  be- 
coming the  servants  of  such  a  Master.  They  have  made  the 
choice  of  Moses ;  they  endure  as  seeing  him  who  is  invisible,  and 
prefer  even  the  reproach  of  Christ  to  all  the  treasures  of  Egypt. 
The  sight  of  one  such  person  in  the  bouse  of  God,  animates  and 
comforts  a  minister  more  than  a  crowd  of  common  hearers.  I 
bless  the  Lord  that  I  have  the  honour  of  preaching  to  more  than 
one  of  this  description.  Go  on,  madam  ;  may  the  Lord  be  with 
vou.  I  pray  for  you,  and  I  rejoice  in  the  hope,  that  I  shall  soon 
have  to  cbngmtttlate  you  that  me  Lord  has  given  you  a  complete 
deliverance,  a  victory,  and  filled  your  heart  and  mouth  with  his 
maise.  Think  of  the  reward  promised  to  them  that  overcome, 
Hev.  ii.  and  lii.  What  can  the  world  propose  worthy  to  be  put 
in  competition  with  these  ? 

I  aO)  Madam^ 

Your  sincerely  affectionate  servant. 


LETTER  II. 

July  14,  1783. 

I  WAS  much  affected  and  comforted  by  your  obliging  answer 
to  my  letter  yesterday.  I  believe,  as  you  say,  there  was  some- 
thing providential  in  my  writing,  and,  indeed,  in  the  timing  of  my  late 
agreeable  visit,  where  I  had  the  unexpected  pleasure  of  meeting 
^th  you.  On  Saturday,  when  1  had  a  quite  different  business  in 
Ivand,  a  thought  struck  me,  which  made  me  lay  aside  what  I  was 
engaged  in,  to  prepare  a  letter  which  I  thought  I  could  get  convey- 
ed to  you  from  church ;  not  thinking  I  should  see  you  there,  and 
have.an  opportunity  of  putting  it  into  your  own  hand.  As  you  say 
it  proved  a  means  of  confirming  your  mind,  1  have  reason  to  praise 
the  Lord  (to  whom  I  would  ascribe  every  ^ood  and  useful  motion) 
for  putting  it  into  my  heart  to  write.  I  rejoice  in  your  determina- 
tion; persuaded  that  the  principle  upon  which  you  act  will  bear 
you  through,  and  that  the  Lord,  whom  you  desire  to  serve,  will, 
either  in  kmd,  or  in  kindness,  afford  you  a  testimony  that  he  ap- 
proves of  your  conduct.  ^Ve  are  short-sighted  as  to  consequen- 
ces, but  he  knows  what  he.is  about  to  do»  You  have,  in  his  pro- 
mises, upon  which  he  has  enabled  you  to  trust,  a  greater  treasure 
by  for  than  the  Bank  of  England ;  and  therefore  you  can  be  no 
h9fli  by  declming  an  otkv  which  he  only  permitted  to  be  made  for 


Let.  2.]  TO  HISS  G«M.  439 

the  trial  of  your  fiiuh  and  iolegrityk  1  Iiave  been,  likcwiae,  in  my 
lime,  called  to  make  sacrifices,  and  to  give  up  seeming  advantages 
for  conscience'  sake,  though  certainly  mine  wei*e  trifles  compared 
yf'ith  yourS)  as  yoa  are  now  situated ;  and  my  own  experience,  as 
well  as  ray  frequent  observation  of  others,  convinces  m^  that 
though  we  may  appear  to  lose  something  for  the  Lord,  we  shall  not 
eventually  lose  t^  him*  But  what  I  recollect  of  such  things  in  my 
own  case,  and  of  tl^e  manner  in  which  I  was  led  through  them, 
makes  me  take  the  liberty  of  offering  a  farther  word  of  advice  upon 
the  subject.  In  the  first  place,  I  would  not  have  you  wonder,  if, 
when  vour  determination  is  fixed,  and  the  affair  quite  at  an  end,  you 
should  find,  instead  of  your  path  being  made  smoother  immedi- 
ately, fresh  difficulties  and  exigencies  arise.  1  hope  it  will  not  be 
so ;  but  it  was  so  with  me.  I  met  with  pinches  that  at  times  al- 
most staggered  me,  and  strongly  tempted  me  to  repent  that  I  had 
been,  (as  ihe  thought  in  a  dark  hour  iutinided  upon  me)  too  scru- 
pulous, and  had  brought  inconveniences  upon  myself  by  a  punc- 
tilio. Still,  however,  my  better  judgment  spoke  a  different  lan- 
guage, and  assured  me,  it  was  not  a  punctilio,  but  evidently  con- 
nected with  duty  and  peace  of  conscience.  I  could  not,  I  durst 
not,  deliberately  repent  that  I  had  acted  right;  but,  as  I  said,  I 
was  tempted  to  it.  The  Lord  kept  me  steadfast,  as  far  as  ontward 
conduct  was  concerned ;  but  he  alone  knows  the  evil  workings  of 
my  heart  at  some  seasons.  I  was,  however,  supported;  and  in 
due  time  light  broke  through  the  darkness,  difficulties  were  remov- 
ed, he  maJe  me  good  amends,  even  in  a  temporal  way,  for  what  I 
had  given  up ;  besides,  the  opportunity  it  amrded  of  commending 
my  profession  and  character,  even  to  the  people  of  the  world,  who 
had  before  affected  to  despise  me  a^  an  enthusiast.  They  seemed 
to  think,  many  of  them  to  allow,  that  my  religion  was  better  than 
theirs,  because  it  had  enabled  me  to  part  with  that  which  they  felt 
they  could  not  have  parted  with  in  similar  circumstances.  If  you 
should  be  tried  something  in  the  like  way,  tarry  the  Lord's  leisure; 
wait  patiently  upon  and  for  him,  and  you  shall  one  day  see  he  has 
not  forgotten  you,  though  he  should  permit  you  |i  while  to  be  tried 
whether  you  will  hold  fast  your  integrity.  Perhaps,  when  the 
Lord  has  enabled  us  to  act  honourably  in  very  difficult,  ensnaring 
circumstances,  the  greatest  danger  we  are  liable  to  is,  lest  we 
should  be  insensibly  drawn  into  a  too  good  opinion  of  our  own  re- 
solution and  constancy,  and  indulge  a  secret,  self-confidence,  in- 
stead of  giving  the  whole  praise  to  the  Lord.  I  cannot  forget 
that  I  felt  this  evil,  nor  how  much  I  suffered  by  it;  for  Qk; 
Lord,  who  mercifully  watched  over  me  for  good,  to  pievent  my 
being  exalted  above  measure,  w^s  pleased,  at  the  sam*  time  that 
he  enabled  me  to  conquer  in  a  greater  trial,  to  leave  me  to  my 
own  weaknes  in  much  smaller ;  so  that  I  was  left  to  hesitate,  stum- 


430  TO  MISS  Q—.  [Leu  3. 

ble,  and  fall,  in  some  things  so  seemingly  trivial,  that  I  shoold 
have  been  ashamed  of  mentioning  them  to  my  most  intimate 
friend.  Excuse  my  mentioning  this.  I  trust  the  caotion  will  to 
you  be  unnecessary,  after  the  noble  stand  the  Lord  has  enabled 
you  to  make,  I  have  nothing  to  wish  or  pray  for  you,  but  that 
he  may  preserve  you  humble  and  thankful^  Mrs.  ***  miatea 
with  me  in  love  to  you.  Need  I  say,  that  we  shall  be  very  glad 
to  see  you  whenever  it  suits  you  to  call  upon  us  ? 
Believe  me  to  be. 

Very  affectionately  and  sincerely,  yours. 


LETTER  til. 

August  19,  1783. 
Dear  MadaIi, 

Methinks  I  well  understand  the  apostle,  when  he  speaks  of 
being  present  with  his  friends  in  spirit,  while  absent  from  them 

in  the  body.     How  often  have  I  been  at  London,  and  at  N , 

since  I  came  here !  Besides  this,  I  usually  convey  myself  once 
a  day  iq  the  shape  of  a  letter ;  and  this  morning  I  mean  to  make 
you  a  visit.  May  I  arrive  in  a  good  hour  ;  and  may  the  Lord 
put  some  good  and  seasonable  word  in  my  way,  that  your  heart 
may  be  comforted.  The  good  hand  of  the  Lord  brought  us  bitfa^ 
er  in  peace  and  safety  ;  and  we  are  hitherto  favoured  with  a  pre- 
servation from  illness,  though  many  are  ill  around  us,  and  many 
are  falling  every  day.  I  do  not  remember  so  many  people  being 
ill  with  fevers  at  one  time  during  the  eighteen  years  I  lived  here. 
I  am  now  very  busy  amongst  a  people  whom  I  have  long  loved, 
and  who  are  glad  to  see  me  ;  and  though  I  am  going  from  house 
to  house  almost  all  day  and  every  dajr,  I  shall  hardly  be  able  to  see 
them  all  while  I  stay.  Health,  when  rightly  valued  and  duly  im- 
proved, is  a  great  mercy.  I  hope  you  have  it,  and  find  it  so.  The 
mind  not  only  suffers  by  what  the  body  feels  when  ill,  but  is,  for 
the  most  part,  indisposed  by  it  for  the  enjoyments  of  its  best  privi- 
leges. An  aching  head,  or  a  sick  stomach,  take  off  our  chariot 
wheels,  engage  our  attention  to  our  infirmities,  preclude  us  from 
public  ordinances,  or  unfit  us  for  hearing  if  abroad,  and  for  any 
spiritual  exercises  when  at  home.  At  such  a  time  we  can  do  little 
more  than  simply  cast  ourselves  upon  the  Lord's  care,  and  wait 
his  will.  *tndeed,  it  is  well  if  we  can  do  so  much  ;  for  to  exer- 
cise faith  Ind  patience  at  such  a  time,  is  a  great  thing.  If  health 
and  spirits  are  good,  we  are  so  far  prepared  to  meet  and  support 
the  daily  trials  of  life.    I  hope  yon  are  thus  armed,  yea,  mucit 


Let.  3.]  TO  wss  o***.  431* 

t)etter ;  that  you  are  favoured  with  a  peaceful  frame  of  mind, 
a  sense  of  the  Lord's  presence,  and  a  persuasion  that  his  arm  will 
support  you  and  surely  do  you  good.  Be  of  good  courage ; 
trust  in  the  Lord  with  all  your  heart ;  take  up  your  daily  cross, 
whatever  it  may  be  ;  he  is  your  shepherd  and  guide,  to  whom 
you  have  committed  yourself,  and  you  may  be  assured  that  he 
will  Irad  you  the  right  way.  .  I  can  easily  conceive  that  many 
things  in  your  present  situation  must  be  unpleasant  to  you  ;  but 
while  they  are  so,  they  will  not  be  hurtful ;  and  the  Lord,  who 
has  assigned  you  your  present  post,  is  at  hand  to  support  yon  in 
it,  and  I  trust  wiH  honour  you  with  some  usefulness  while  he  con- 
tinues you.  Live  with  him  to-day,  and  leave  to-morrow  in  his 
hands.  Do  not  let  your  spirits  be  burdened  as  though  you  were 
bound  to  perform  impossibilities  V  but  make  the  best  you  can  of 
things  as  they  lie  before  you.  You  are  placed  where  you  are  to 
be  a  witness  for  him ;  perhaps  he  designs  to  make  you  an  instru- 
ment of  good  to  some  who  are  around  you  ;  your  example  and 
conduct  may  have  an  influence  in  this  way  far  beyond  what  you 
expect,  even  when  you  do  not  see  it  proper  to  speak  a  word  ; 
but  somedmes  probably,  a  word  will  be  put  into  your  mouth,  and 
you  will  not  speak  in  vain.  If  he  had  not  enabled  you  to  make 
the  choice  of  Moses,  you  would  have  avoided  the  trials  you  find 
at  N  ;  you  would,  probably,  before  this  time  have  entered 

a  very  different  path  of  life.  The  world  would  have  either  con- 
gratulated or  envied  you  ;  but  I  should  have  pitied  you.  You 
would  soon  have  felt  (what  the  Lord  enabled  you  to  collider 
without  making  the  experiment)  how  little  the  fine  things  of  this 
world  xan  contribute  to  happiness.  Every  day  would  have 
shown  you  more  of  their  vanity,  and  every  day  would  have  discov- 
ered to  you  new  instances  of  the  solid  and  real  evils  and  troubles 
which  are  connected  with  tliem.  You  would  either  Wve  been 
carried  away  with  the  stream,  to  the  wounding  of  your  con- 
science and  the  loss  of  your  spiritual  discernment ;  or,  if  enabled 
to  stand  your  ground,  you  would  have  found  a  thorn  in  every 
step  you  took. 

Blessed  be  the  Lord,  who  inspired  you  with  wisdom  and 
strength  to  resist  the  golden  temptation !  I  said  then,  and  I  say 
still,  you  will  never  have  just  cause  to  repent  it.  Continue  hum- 
bly to  commit  your  way  to  him ;  he  will  take  care  of  you,  and 
he  can  give  you,  even  in  temporals,  what,  upon  the  whole,  shall 
be  much  more  valuable  and  comfortable  than  all  that  you  give 
up.  However  that  may  be,  his  loving-kindness,  and  the  light 
of  his  countenance,  are  better  than  life  itself.  I  warned  you,  though 
you  knew  it  before,  that  the  enemy  would  try,  as  far  as  permitted, 
to  distress   and  worry  you.     But  regard  him  not.    Resist  him, 


432  TO  mss  o*«*.  ILeU  3. 

and  he  will  flee  from  yon.  You  are  in  the  path  of  doty  ;  what 
you  canoot  alter,  bear  patiently,  and  the  Lord,  in  his  own  time, 
will  make  the  crooked  straight.  Yon  are  in  a  peculiar  sense,  the 
charge  of  his  providence,  and  he  will  not  leave  you  nor  forsake 
you.  We  hope  to  be  at  home  on  the  evening  of  the  &th.  I.  have 
great  reason  to  be  pleased  with  my  excursion }  and,  blessed  be 
the  Lord,  the  thought  of  returning  to  London  is  very  pleasant  to 
me  likewise.  There  (with  respect  to  this  world)  my  treasure  is, 
and  there  ts  my  heart  also.  The  opportunities  of  preaching  his 
word,  and  of  intercourse  with  his  dear  people,  the  many  kind  and 
valuable  friends  he  has  given  me  are  more  to  me  than  all  tlie 
mines  of  Peru. 

Let  09  love,  and  sing,  aud  woadef, 
Let  us  praise  the  Saviour's  name. 

Let  the  world  take  the  world ;  for  you  and  for  me  the  Lord 
has  provided  better  things.  Oh  for  grace  to  be  humble,  thank- 
ful, circumspect,  and  exemplary,  that  our  light  may  shine  to  his 
praise  !     I  commend  you  to  his  gracious  protection,  and  am, 

Dear  Madam, 

Yours  most  sincerely. 


THREE  LETTERS 

TO* 

MRS.  C***. 


LETTER  I. 

May  29,  1784. 
Mt  Dear  Madam, 

We  have  heard  that  you  have  been  sick,  and  I  write  in 
hopes  of  obtaining  an  answer,  to  inform  me  that  you  have  expert* 
euced  the  help  and  power  of  the  great  Physician,  and  that  you 
arenow  better.  I  know,  indeed,  beforehand,  that,  whether  sick  or 
well,  yon  are  just  as  you  should  be,  and  that  what  the  Lord 
chooses  for  you  is  always  the  best.  But  the  Gospel,  though  calcu* 
lated  to  form  us  (rebellious  as  we  are  by  nature^  to  a  cheerful  ac-» 
quiescence  in  his  will,  and  to  regdb^e  our  sensibility,  is  not  de* 
signed  to  suppress  it.  The  same  lov#which  rejoices  in  the  com* 
forts  of  others  will  likewise  sympathize  with  them  in  afliction. 
We  are  directed  to  pray  for  one  another  in  this  view,  that,  tf  It  be 
the  Lord's  pleasure  to  prolong  life  to  restore  health,  our  sense  of 
the  mercy  may  be  heightened  by  the  consideration  that  it  is  be* 
stowed  in  answer  to  prayer.  Too  do  not  properly  need  my 
prayers  and  wishes,  you  are  safe  in  the  hands  of  infinite  wisdoqi 
and  love  ;  and  if  you  were  in  a  wilderness,  remote  from  all  socie- 
tyi  you  could  not  be  sick  or  afflicted  an  hour  longer  than  the  Lord 
saw  necessary  to  answer  some  gracious  purpose  in  your  favour. 
But  this  is  his  institution,  that  as  members  of  the  same  body,  we 
should  maintain  a  fellowship  and  sympathy,  helping  together  by 
prayer,  that  so,  for  the  gift  bestowed  by  means  of  many  persons, 
thanks  may  be  given  by  many  on  our  account.  It  pleases  me  td 
think  that,  though  I  am  much  and  often  surrounded  with  nolsei 
smoke,  and  dust,  my  friend  Mrs.  C^**  enjoys  the  beautiful  scenes 
of  rural  life.  O  how  I  long  somctimetf  to  spend  a  day  or  two 
among  woods,  and  lawns,  and  brooks,  and  hedge-rows,  to  he*r 
the  birds  sing  in  theibashes,  and  to  wander  among  the  dieep  and 
lambs,  or  to  stand  under  the  shadow  of  an  old  oafc,  upon  a  faill 
top !  Thus  I  lived  at  OIney  ;  how  different  is  London  !  But, 
hush !  Olney  was  the  place  once,  London  is  the  place  now. 
Hither  the  Loid  brought  me,  and  here  he  is  pleased  to  support 
Vol.  IV.  ^5 


434  TO  MRS.  c«*«.  [Let.  1« 

me,  and  in  some  measure,  (I  trust,)  to  own  me.  I  am  satisded. 
Come,  I  hope  I  can  make  a  good  shift  'Without  your  woods,  and 
bushes,  and  pastnrt  s.  What  is  the  prosj^ect  from  the  finest  hill  in 
Essex,  compared  with  the  prospect  I  have  from  St.  Mary's  pulpit  f 
What  is  the  singing  of  birds,  compared  with  the  singing  our 
hymn  aAer  sermon  on  a  Sunday  evening  f  What  the  bleating  of 
lambs,  compared  with  the  lispings  of  inquiring  souls,  who  are 
seeking  after  Jesus!  No,  welcome  noise,  and  dust,  and  smoka, 
so  that  we  may  but  be  favoured  with  his  gracious  presence  in  our 
hearts,  houses,  and  ordinances.  This  will  make  all  situations 
nearly  alike,  if  we  see  the  Lord's  hand  placing  us  in  it,  are  enabled 
to  do  his  will,  and  to  set  him  before  us,  as  our  Lord  and  our  Be- 
loved. You  will  please  to  present  my  good  wishes  to  Mrs,  B****, 
and  likewise  Miss  D***,  if  she  is  with  her.  He,  in  whose  pre- 
sence is  life,  whose  loving-kindness  is  better  than  life,  be  with 
you  all.  Though  we  do  not^see  each  other,  we  are  not  far  a- 
sunder.  The  throne  of  grace  is  a  centre,  where  thousands  daily 
meet  in  spirit,  and  have  real,  though  secret  communion  with  each 
other.  They  eat  of  one  bread,  walk  by  one  rule ;  they  have  one 
Father  and  one  home.  There  they  will  shortly  meet,  to  part  no 
more.  They  will  shine,  each  one,  like  the  sun.  They  will  form 
a  glorious  constellation,  millttp  of  suns  shining  together  in  their 
Lord's  kingdom.  How  p||sMj  is  Satan  when  he  can  prevail  to 
to  set  those  at  variance,  who  are  in  so  many  respects  udited  !  but 
such  is  his  subtlety,  and  such  their  weakness,  which  he  practises 
upon,  that  he  has  often  prevailed  thus.  Sometimes  he  shuts  them 
up  so  close  within  the  paper  walls  of  a  denomination,  that  they 
cannot  see  an  inch  beyond  the  bounds  of  their  own  party.  Some- 
times  he  holds  his  magical  glass  before  their  eyes,  and  when  they 
thus  view  each  other  through  the  medium  of  prejudice^  they  seem 
so  mutually  and  so  strangely  metamorphosed,  that  perhaps  botli 
leaders  and  people  are  shocked,  disgusted,  and  terrified  at  the 
sight  of  those  who  are  as  near  the  Lord  as  themselves.  Here  and 
there  one  escapes  the  general  delusion ;  these  wonder  at  the  bus- 
tle around  them,  and  endeavour  to  persuade  the  rest  to  peace,  and 
love  as  becometh  brethren,  and  perhaps  are  requited  with  the  re- 
proaches of  both  sides,  as  neutrals,  time-servers,  and  cowards. 
But  these  peace-makers  are  blessed,  approved  of  God,  and  be- 
loved by  all  men  who  are  in  possession  of  their  spiritual  senses. 
Through  mercy  my  dear  madam,  neither,  you  nor  I  are  to  be 
scared  by  such  words  as  Methodist  or  Calvinist.  We  see  there , 
is  both  wheat  and  chafi*  among  all  parties^  and  that  they  who 
love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christt  are  a  people  scattered  abroad  at  thi^ 


Let.  2.]  TO  MRS.  c***.  4»5 

time,   as  they,  were  in  the  apostles'  days,   1  Pet.  i.    I.     Wc 
are  much  a^sual.     Accept-  our  cordial  love.     Shall  I  beg  yoa 
to  pray  for  me  and  mine  P     I  know  you  will. 
Believe  roe  to  be, 

Yoiir  affectionate  and  obliged. 


LETTER  II. 

JVbt.  27,  1784. 
Mt  Dear  Madam, 

What  shall  I  say  to  the  intelligence  which  Mr.  C 

(judging  rightly  of  our  affection  for  you)  was  so  kind  as  to  bring 
me  this  morning  ?  May  I  not  say,  without  sinning,  that  I  am 
sorry,  very  sorry  ?     If  1  said  otherwise  I   should  be  a  hypocrite. 

If  Mrs. or  I  coald  have  prevented  it,  you  should  not  have 

fallen.  Oar  gracious  Lord,  who  condescended  to  take  our  nature 
upon  him,  took  it  with  all  the  feelings  belonging  to  it  which  are 
not  sinful.  He  was  truly  a  man,  and  sympathised  like  a  man 
with  the  afflictions  of  bis  friends.  Instead  of  sharply  rebuking 
Mary  and  Martha  for  their  tears  wheu  their  brother  died,  he 
kindly  wept  with  them,  though  he  had  determined  to  raise  him 
again  from  the  dead.  I  allow  myself,  therefore,  to  be  sorry  for 
your  fall  and  hurt,  and  to  feel  a  solicitude  till  1  hear  fqrther  of 
you.     Perhaps  Mrs.  B  may  favour  me  with  a  line  of  in- 

formation, if,  as  1  apprehend,  yon  may  not  be  able  to  write  your- 
self. But  now,  to  use  the  apostle's  expression,  *'  I  have  spoken  as 
a  man,"  let  me  look  at  you  in  another  point  of  view.  The  Liord, 
who  by  his  grace  has  enabled  you  to  devote  and  intrust  yourself  to 
him,  has  engaged,  by  his  promise,  to  take  care  of  you,  and  to 
keep  you  in  all  your  ways.  Under  his  protection  you  have  been 
8afe  a  number  of  years ;  and  did  he  fail  you  at  last?  Far  from  it^: 
his  eye  was  as  directly  upon  you,  bis  arm  as  certainly  with  you 
when  you  fell,  ns  at  any  other  moment  of  your  life.  Aqd  you 
would  no  more  have  fallen,  than  the  planets  can  fall  from  their 
orbits,  without  his  permission  and  appointment.  This  event  must 
work  for  your  good,  because  he  has  promised  4hat  all  things 
shall.  If  I  could  assign  no  other  reason  for  those  dispensations 
to  his  children,  which,  upon  the  first  impression,  are  apt  to  star- 
tle us,  this  ought  to  be  a  sufficient  reason,  not  only  to  Mlence  but 
to  (satisfy  us,  that.  It  is  the  Lord.  For,  can  infinite  wisdom  mis- 
take, or  infinite  goodness  do  any  thing  that  is  unkind  f  But  I 
see  other  reasons  why,  in  the  present  state  of  things,  all  things 
should  appear  as  happening  alike  to  all;  and  that  his  own  people^ 


486  TO  URS.  c****.  [jLet.  S. 

who  are  ireed  ffoin  guilt  and  condemnatioo,  and  to  .whom  lie  mad* 
Urns  himself  as  be  does  not  unto  the  world,  should  no^be  therefore 
exempted  from  a  share  in  any  of  the  outward  afflictions  to  which 
sin  has  rendered  mankind  liable.  I  can  see  many  incpnveniences 
which  would  follow,  if  they  who  love  the  Lord  were  distinguish- 
ed from  the  world  aroun^  them  by  a  visible  mark  in  their  fore- 
heads. But  if  his  providence  universally  preserved  them  from 
the  calamities  which  others  feel,  so  that  it  should  be  notorious,  and 
generally  known  that  their  persons  were  always  safe,  and  that  do 
true  believer  ever  suffered  by  falls,  fires,  broken  bones,  and  the 
like ;  such  an  exemption,  in  this  calamitous  state,  would  distin- 
guish and  point  them  out,  almost  as  plainly  as  if  they  were  sor- 
roundH  with  a  glory,  as  the  apostles  are  sometimes  represented 
in  popish  pictures.  Besides,  how  should  it  be  known  that  the 
Lord  whom  they  serve  can  make  them  cheerful  and  comfortable, 
under  those  trials  and  sufferings  which  the  flesh  naturally  shrinks 
at,  unless  they  were  now  and  then  put  into  such  circumstances.  I 
imst,  madam,  you  are  of  the  same  mind  with  -a  good  woman  I 
heard  of  about  thirty  years  ago.  She  was  very  aged,  and  very 
poor.  One  day,  in  attempting  to  cross  the  way  in  Wbitecbapel, 
a  cart  threw  her  down,  and  she  broke  her  thigh.  She  was  taken 
into  a  house,  and  many  people  were  soon  about  her,  exfHressing 
their  concern  ;  but  she  said,  **  I  thank  you  for  your  pity  (  but  all 
b  very  well,  and  I  hope  I  have  not  one  bone  in  my  body  but  is 
willing  to  be  broken,  if  such  be  the  Liord's  will."  What  may  be 
the  issue  of  this  fall  as  to  yourself,  I  know  not.  It  is  a  greater 
thing  to  heal  a  broken  heart  than  a  broken  bone.  So  hmg  as  I 
hear  that  yon  are  alive,  I  shall  probably  feel  a  wish  that  you  may 
live  a  little  longer.  I  shall  therefore  commend  yon  to  him  to 
whom  belong  the  issues  from  death,  being  assured  that  you  are 
immortal  till  the  appointed  number  of  your  sufferings  and  services 
shall  be  completed  ;  but  if  your  fall  should  prove  a  means  of  has* 
lening  your  removal  io  the  church  triumphant,  then,  however  I 
and  your  many  friends  may  regret  our  own  loss,  we  ought  to  re* 
Joice  in  your  gain.  As  this  may  possibly  be  the  event,  though 
I  am  willing  to  hope  otherwise,  I  take  a  sort  of  leave  of  you,  beg- 
ging that  while  you  do  remain  on  this  side  Jordan,  you  will  pray 
for  me  and  mine,  that  we  may  have  grdce  to  follow  you  while  we 
live,  and  to  follow  you  when  we  die,  to  that  heavenly  home,  where 
the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  where  the  weary  are  at  rest. 
Oh,  madam,  what  a  prospect  awaits  you  ! 

Oh  what  hath  Jesus  bought  for  nic ; 

Before  my  ravisli'd  eyes 
Rivers  of  Jife  diune  I  see, 

And  trees  of  Paradise ! 


Let.  3.]  TO  MBS*  €*««».  43T 

I  see  a  world  of  spiriu  brighr. 

Who  taste  the  pleasures  there  f 
They  all  are  rob'd  in  spotless  white, 

And  oonqaering  palms  they  bear. 

Ah,  that  robe,  that  crowiii  those  songs !  sorely  it  is  unspeaka- 
hly  better  to  depart  aod  to  be  with  Jesus.  ^  If  he  calls  you,  I  must 
end  will  consent  lo  let  you  go ;  but  I  shall  miss  you.  If  he  is 
pleased  to  raise  voo  up,  I  shall  rejoice  to  see  you  again.  Mrs» 
N****  joins  me  in  best  love,  and  in  our  respects  to  Mrs.  B****. 

I  am,  dear  Madam, 
Your  very  affectionate  and  obliged  servant. 


LETTER  HI. 

Feb.  25,  1785. 
Mt  Daar  Madam, 

AccoBAiNo  to  strict  propriety,  I  should  address  myself  to  Mrs. 
B^^**,  having  an  obliging  letter  of  hers  to  acknowledge.  But 
the  account  Mr.  C^**  lately  gave  me  of  your  health,  deter- 
mines me  to  beg  her  excuse,  and  to  wj'ite  to  you,  not  knowing 
how  long  you  may  be  within  the  reach  of  the  post.  I  cannot 
flatter  myself  that  you  will  continue  a  great  while  in  this  poor' 
world,  or  that  I  can  reasonably  expect  to  see  you  again.  The 
comfort  is,  that  though  Christian  friendship  is  very  pleasing,  and 
Christian  conference  be  very  profitable  when  rightly  managed, 
yet  we  are  not  necessary  to  each  other.  We  are  absolutely  de^ 
pendent  upon  the  Lord,  but  not  necessarily  dependent  upon  any 
creatures.  They  smile  upon  us  when  be  bids  them  ;  they  do  us 
good  when  he  sends  them,  but  they  cannot  benefit  us  without 
him;  and,  on  Uie  other  hand,  he  can  well  supply  their  absence  or 
inability,  and  do  every  tiling  for  us  without  them.  Though  I  sei* 
dom  saw  yon  when  you  were  in  London,  yet  it  gave  me  pleasure 
to  think  1  might  expect  to  see  you  now  and  then.  Wljen  you 
are  gone  to  heaven  this  pleasure  will  fail — I  shall  sec  j'ou  no  more 
here ;  1  shall  miss  you  ;  aod  in  a  little  while  I  hope  we  shall  meet 
again  there.  But  where  is  heaven  ?  Is  it  an  immense  distance 
beyond  the  fixed  stars  ?  Have  our  ideds  ofiSpace  any  thing  to  do 
with  it  i^  Is  not  heaven  oflen  upon  earth  in  proportion  as  the,  pre« 
sence  of  God  is  felt  ?  was  not  the  apostle  caught  up  thither,  though 
he  knew  not  whether  he  was  in  the.bp'ly  or  not,  aod  cousequent- 
ly  was  not  s^ie  that  he  had  changed  his  place?  Is  there  not  joy 
in  heaven  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth  ?  Perhaps  the  redeemed 
of  the  Lord,  as  well  as  his  angels,  are.  nearer  to  us  than  we  are. 
aware.     Perhaps  they  see  us,  though  we  see  not  them.     Perhaps 


438  ro  VBS.  c«Hrii*  [Let. ». 

nothing  but  this  veil  of  flesh  and  blood  prevents  us  from  seeing 
them  likewise.  However,  on  oar  part  the  barrier  is  impenetra- 
ble !  O  the  wonders  that  wi)!  break  in  upon  our  mind,  when  death 
shall  open  the  barrier  to  us  !  What  shall  we  then  see  ?  It  is  sufli- 
cient  for  us  at  present  to  know  that  we  shall  see  Jesus.  We  shall 
see  him  as  he  is,  and  we  shall  be  like  him.  The  circumstances  of 
the  heavenly  state,  if  I  may  so  speak,  are  hidden  from  us ;  but 
this  which  constitutes  the  essence  of  it,  we  can  form  some  faint 
apprehension  of  from  our  present  experience.  All  that  deserves 
the  name  of  happiness  here,  consists  of  such  conceptions  of  Jesas, 
and  such  measuresof  conformity  to  him,  as  are  attainable  while 
in  a  mortal  and  defiled  nature.  But  we  see  him  only  as  in  a 
glass,  darkly  and  in  part,  but  when  that  which  is  perfect  arrives, 
that  which  is  in  part  shall  be  done  away.  We  shall  be  all  eye, 
all  ear,  all  activity,  in  the  communications  of  his  love,  and  in  the 
celebration  of  his  praise.  Here  we  are  almost  upon  a  level  with 
worms ;  there  we  shall  rise  to  an  equality  with  angels.  In  some 
respects  our  privilege  will  be  superior  to  theirs.  Angels  cannot 
sing  the  song  of  the  redeemed,  nor  claim  so  near  a  relation  to 
Him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne.  Are  not  these  things  worth  dy- 
ing for ;  I  congratulate  you,  roadain  ;  you  have  almost  finislied 
your  course  ;  and  he  who  has  enabled  you  to  keep  the  faith,  and 
to  fight  the  good  fight,  will  shortly  give  you  the  conqueror's 
crown,  prepared  for  you,  and  for  ail  who  love  his  appearing. 
They  are  many  crowns,  and  yet  one.  The  blessings  of  the  other 
world  are  not  like  the  weaUh  of  this  world,  which  is  diminished 
in  proportion  to  the  numbers  among  whom  it  is  divided.  There 
each  one  shall  possess  the  whole  ;  as  here  we  enjoy  the  light  of 
the  sun,  though  millions  enjoy  it  with  us,  as  fully  as  we  could  if 
there  were  none  upon  earth  but  ourselves  to  see  it.  You  will  like- 
wise soon  be  removed  from  all  evil.  You  are  going  where  pain, 
and  sickness,  and  sorrow,  and  temptation,  and  sin  have  no  place. 
Where,  your  eyes  and  your  heart  will  be  no  more  grieved  with  the 
wickedness  of  the  world,  where  uo  one  will.ask  you,  with  a  taunt^ 
What  is  thy  beloved  more  than  another  beloved  ?  In  a  word, 
where  death  shall  be  swallowed  up  in  life,  and  where  the  misera- 
ble effects  of  our  fall  from  God  shall  be  no  more  perceived,  than 
we  can  perceive  a  stom'e  that  is  sunk  in  the  midst  of  the  mighty 
ocean.  I  do  not  ask  nor  expect  you  to  write  an  answer.  I 
see  you  too  weak,  to  wish  to  impose  such  a  task  upon  yon.  I  on- 
ly beg  that  while  you  st^y,  below,  you  will  remember  me  and 
mine  in  prayer.  Mrs.  N sends  her  affectionate  remem- 
brance with  miue. 

Believe  me  to  be 
Your  sincere  friend  and  obliged  servant. 


EXTRACTED  FROM 

PERIODICAL  PUBLICATIONS. 


J 


FROM    THE 

THEOLOGICAL  MISCELLANY* 


A  LETTER  TO  A  FRIEND  IN  TROUBLE. 

My  Dear  Madam, 

The  letter  we  received  yesterday  from  Mr.  ****,  has  given 
us  some  painful  feelings  for  you  both.  He  says  you  are  lower  in 
your  spirits  than  usual.  By  this  time,  I  hope,  the  Lord  hath  raised 
your  spirits  again  :  I  wonder  not  that  they  sometimes  droop* 
Vour  part  is  trying  and  solitary,  aflbrdins  many  handles,  which 
the  encfmy,  if  permitted,  knows  how  to  take  hold  of.  The  pres- 
sure of  your  troubles  is  further  aggravated  by  their  long  continu- 
ance* It  is  one  thing  to  stand  tolei*ably  in  a  skirmish,  when  it  is 
but  a  brush  and  away,  like  a  hasty  shower  in  a  summer's  day, 
which  presently  leaves  us  in  full  possession  of  the  the  sun' again : 
it  is  quite  a  different  thing  to  endure  patiently,  when  a  trial  lasts, 
not  for  days  or  months,  but  from  year  to  year,  when  expectation 
seems  to  fail,  and  all  our  scouts  return  to  tell  us,  there  is  no  per- 
ceptible abatement  of  the  waters. 

But  is  this  the  way  to  raise  your  spirits  ?  Instead  of  giving  you 
sal-volatile  as  I  designed,  I  had  almost  mistaken  the  vial.  Let 
us  try  again.  Ay,  tnis  is  it.  Read  this  inscription,  '^  As  sorrow- 
ful, yet  always  rejoicing."  No  wonder  that  we  are  often  sorrow- 
ing in  such  a  world  as  this  ;  but  to  be  always  rejoicing,  though  in 
the  midst  of  tribulation,  this  may  seem  strange  ;  but  it  is  no  more 
strange  than  true.  When  1  want  witness  to  this  truth  in  open 
court,  I  may  confidently  subpoena  you  to  confirm  it. 

They  who  would  always  rejoice,  must  derive  their  joy  from 
a  source  which  is  invariably  the  same  ;  in  other  words,  from 
Jesus.  Oh,  that  name  !  what  a  person,  what  an  office,  what  a 
love,  what  a  life,  what  a  death,  does  it  recal  to  our  minds  !  Come, 
madam,  let  us  leave  our  troubles  to  themselves  for  a  while,  and 
let  us  walk  to  Golgatha,  and  there  take  a  view  of  his.  We  stop, 
as  we  are  going,  at  Gethsemane,  for  it  is  not  a  step  out  of  the 
road.  There  he  lies,  bleeding,  though  not  wounded,  or,  if  wound- 
ed, it  is  by  an  invisible,  and  almighty  hand.  Now  I  begin  to  see 
what  sin  has  done.  Now  let  me  bring  my  sorrows,  and  compare, 
measure,  and  weigh  them,  against  the  sorrows  of  my  Saviour  f 
Foolish  attempt  I  to  weieh  a  mote  against  a  mountain,  against  the 
universe !  Thus  far  we  nave  attained  already^  and  aim  to  say. 

Vol.  IV.  5« 


442  A   LETTER   TO   A    FRIEND    IN   TROUBLE. 

Now  let  our  pains  be  nil  forgot, 

Our  hearts  fM>  more  repine ! 
Our  sufferings  are  nol  worth  a  thought, 

When,  Lord,  coinparM  with  thine. 

We  are  still  more  confirmed  at  our  next  station.  Now  wc  arc 
at  the  foot  of  the  cross.  Behold  the  M;ui !  attend  to  his  groans  ; 
contemplate  his  wounds.  Now  let  us  sit  down  here  a  while  and 
weep  for  our  crosses,  if  we  can.  For  our  crosses  !  Nay,  rather 
let  us  weep  for  our  sins,  which  brought  the  Son  of  God  into  such 
distress.  Agreed.  1  feel  that  we,  not  Fie,  deserved  to  be  cruci- 
fied, and  to  be  utterly  forsaken.  But  this  is  not  all :  bis  death 
not  only  shows  our  desert,  but  seals  our  pardon.  For  a  fuller 
proof,  let  us  take  another  station.  Now  we  are  at  his  tomb.  But 
the  stone  is  rolled  away.  He  is  not  here.  lie  is  risen.  The 
debt  is  paid,  and  the  surety  discharged.  Not  here  !  where  then 
is  He  ?  Look  up !  Methinks  the  clouds  part,  and  glory  breaks 
through — Behold  a  throne  !  What  a  transition  ?  He  who  hung 
upon  the  cross,  is  seated  upon  the  throne  !  Hark  !  he  speaks  ! 
May  every  word  sink  deep  into  your  heart  and  mine  !  He  says, 
'*  I  know  your  sorrows,  yea,  I  appoint  them  ;  they  are  tokens  of 
my  love  ;  it  is  thus  I  call  you  to  the  honour  of  following  me.  See 
a  place  prepared  for  you  near  to  myself!  Fear  none  of  these  things 
be  thou  faithful  unto  death,  and  Twill  give  thee  a  crown  of  life.*' 
It  is  enoiigh,  Lord.  Now  then  let  us  compute,  let  us  calculate 
again.  These  scales  are  the  balances  of  the  sanctuary.  Let  us 
put  in  our  trials  and  griefs  on  one  side.  What  an  alteration  !  I 
thou£;ht  them  lately  very  heavy  :  now  I  find  them  light;  the  scale 
hardly  turns  with  them.  But  how  shiill  we  manage  to  pit  in  the 
weight  on  the  other  side  ?  It  is  heavy  in:Jeed :  an  exceeding,  eternal 
weight  of  glory.  It  is  beyond  my  grasp  and  power.  No  matter. 
Comparison  is  needless.  I  see,  with  the  <;lance  of  an  eye,  there  is  no 

rroportion.  1  am  content.  I  am  satisfied.  I  am  ashamed.  Have 
been  so  long  mourning,  and  is  this  all  the  cause  ?  Well,  if  the 
flesh  will  grieve,  it  shall  grieve  by  itself.  The  Spirit,  the  Lord 
enabling  me,  shall  rejoice,  yea,  it  does.  From  this  moment  I  wipe 
a  way  my  tears,  and  torbld  them  to  flow  ;  or,  if  1  must  weep,  they 
shall  be  tears  of  gratitude,  love,  and  joy  !  The  bitter  is  sweet;  the 
medicine  is  food.  But  the  cloud  closes.  I  can  no  longer  see 
what  I  lately  saw.  However,  /  have  ieen  it.  I  know  it  is  there. 
He  ever  liveth,  full  of  compassion  and  care,  to  plead  for  me 
above,  to  manage  for  me  below.  He  is  mine,  and  !  am  his  ; 
therefore  all  is  well. 

I  hope  this  little  walk  will  do  ns  both  good.  We  have  seen 
wonderful  things  to-day  !  Wonderful  in  themselves,  and  wonder- 
ful in  their  cflScacy  to  compose  our  spirits,  and  to  make  us  willing 
to  suffer  on.    Blessed  be  God  for  his  unspeakable  gift.' 


ON  TfiS  OOTERNMEKT  OF  TBS  TONOUX.         44S 

Havingwritten  thus  far,  I  made  a  digression  to  the  Jews^  syna- 
gogue. Though  born  and  bred  in  London,  I  was  never  there  be? 
lore.  On  my  return  1  may  say,  Blessed  be  God  not  only  for  the 
gift  of  his  Son,  but  for  the  gift  of  his  Spirit !  What  a  gross  dark-* 
ness  overwhelms  that  unhappy  people  !  With  the  holy  Scriptures 
in  their  hands,  how  utterly  are  they  ignorant  of  their  true  mean- 
ing !  And  what  multitudes  of  professed  christians,  who  can  pity  or 
smile  at  their  superstitions,  are  equally  though  differently  mis- 
taken !  Hence  we  have  another  argument  for  thankful  submission. 
Supposing  our  life  could  have  passed  without  a  single  trial,  yet  if 
we  had  lived  and  died  ignorant  of  God  and  of  ourselves,  our  hap- 
piness, preferable  to  that  of  the  most  afBicted,  would  have  been 
but  like  the  poor  marks  of  distinction  paid  to  a  state-criminal  of 
rank,  who  is  attended  to  the  place  of  execution  with  a  parade  not 
allowed  to  the  vulgar,  but  must  undergo  the  same  punishment 
when  he  comes  thither.  How  trivial  is  such  a  pre-eminence  *. 
What  do  all  past  pleasures  and  advantages  now  avail  the  world- 
ling who  died  this  morning  ?  What  is  the  believer,  who  died  this 
morning,  the  worse  now  for  the  trials  which  he  met  within  his  path 
to  glory  ?  Quite  the  reverse  ;  he  now  sees  thdt  they  were  directed 
and  adjusted  to  promote  and  secure  his  progress,  and  to  shield 
him  from  still  greater  evils,  to  which  he  was  otherwise  exposed. 
Let  us  abide  by  the  conclusion,  which  our  judgment  assures  us  he 
now  makes.  It  will  appear  as  plain  and  self-evident  to  us  like- 
wise, when  we  shall  be  called  to  take  possession  of  our  lot  in  the 
inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light. 

If  you  have  lately  been  in  conflict  with  the  enemy,  1  hope  this 
will  find  you  praising  the  Lord  for  a  new  victory.  If  under  bod- 
ily indisposition,  I  hope  his  gracious  hands  have  already  brought 
you  health  and  cure,  accompanied  with  a  further  discovery  of  the 
abundance  of  peace  and  truth. 

I  am,  Madam, 

Your  aflcctionate, 

OMICRON. 


THOUGHTS  ON  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  THE  TONGUE. 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  one  test  or  proof  of  the  reality  of  a  work 
of  grace  upon  the  heart,  more  simple,  clear,  and  infallible,  than  the 
general  tenour  of  our  lansuage  and  conversation  ;  for  our  Lord's 
aphorism  is  of  certain  and  universal  application,  that  ^^  out  of  the 
abundance  of  the  heart  the  mouth  speaketh.''  To  the  same  pur- 
pose  the  apostle  James  proposes  to  all,  who  make  profession  ot 
the  Gospel,  a  searching  criterion  of  their  sincerity,  when  he  says, 


444  ON   THfi   GOITEENMENT    OF  THE   TONGUE. 

<'  If  any  man  among  you  seem  to  be  religious,  and  bridlelh  not  hii 
tongue,  but  deceiveth  his  own  heart,  this  man's  religion  is  vain.'' 
This  passage  should  not  be  thought  a  hard  sayinc,  for  it  stands  in 
the  Bible  ;  but  because  it  stan%ls  in  the  Bible,  and  forms  a  part  of 
the  rule  by  which  the  characters  and  states  of  ail  men  will  be  finally 
determined,  there  is  reason  to  fear  that  it  will  be  found  a  hard  say- 
ing at  last,  by  too  many  who  name  the  name  of  Christ.  A  few 
thoughts  upon  this  important  subject  can  never  be  unseasonable. 

It  IS  not  the  restraint  of  the  neart  the  apostle  requires.  He 
knew,  that  though  it  be  our  duty  to  watch  against  the  first  rising 
motions  of  evil  within,  and  to  be  humbled  for  them,  it  is  not  in  oor 
power  wholly  to  prevent  them  ;  but  he  supposes  that  the  gr^ce 
of  God  in  a  true  believer  will  check  the  evils  of  the  heart,  and 
prevent  them  from  breaking  out  by  the  tongue. 

Nor  is  the  restraint  of  the  tongue  to  be  taken  so  strictly,  as  if  a 
believer  was  never  liable  to  speak  unadvisedly.  Job  and  Jere- 
miah cursed  the  day  of  their  birth  ;  and  Peter  not  only  denied  his 
Lord,  but  denied  him  with  oaths  and  execrations.  I  allow  it  pos- 
sible  that  th^best  of  men,  in  an  unguarded  hour,  and  through  the 
pressure  of  some  sudden  and  violent  temptation  or  provocation, 
may  occasionally  act  or  speak  unsuitably  to  their  habitual  charac- 
ter. But  I  think  the  apostle  must  mean  thus  much  at  least,  that 
when  grace  is  in  the  neart,  it  will  so  regulate  and  control  the 
tongue,  that  it  shall  not  customarily  offend ;  and  that  without  some 
evidence  of  such  a  regulation,  we  are  not  bound  to  acknowledge 
anjr  man  to  be  a  Christian,  however  splendid  his  profession  may 
be  in  other  respects.  Nav,  I  think  we  may  further  say  of  this 
test^  what  the  magicians  or  Egypt  acknowlea^ed  upon  another  oc- 
casion, "  this  is  the  finger  of  God  !'*  This  is,  perhaps,  the  only 
outward  mark  of  a  believer  which  the  hypocrite  cannot  imitate. 
In  many  things  he  may  seem  to  be  religious  ;  in  some,  perhaps, 
he  may  appear  to  go  beyond  the  real  Christian  ;  but  because  bis 
heart  is  naught,  he  cannot  bridle  his  tongue. 

The  man  who  seems,  and  who  desires  to  be  thought  religious, 
may  have  many  qualifications  to  support  his  claim,  wnich  may  be 
valuable  and  commendable  in  themselves,  and  yet  are  of  no  avail 
to  the  possessor,  if  he  bridleth  not  his  tongue.  He  may  have 
much  religious  knowledge,  I  mean  of  such  knowledge  as  may  be 
acquired  in  the  use  of  ordinary  means.  He  may  nave  a  warm 
zeal,  and  may  contend  earnestly  (in  his  way)  for  the  faith  once 
delivered  to  the  saints.  He  may  be  able  to  talk  well  on  spiritual 
subjects,  to  pray  with  freedom  and  fervency  ;  yea,  he  may  be  a 
}>reacher,  and  acquit  himself  to  the  satisfaction  of  sincere  Chris- 
tians ;  or,  he  may  be  a  fair  trader,  a  good  neighbour,  a  kind  mas- 
ter, and  affectionate  husband  or  parent,  be  free  from  gross  vices, 
and  attend  constantly  upon  the  oixlinances.     Will  not  such  a  man 


ON  TBfi  OOVEANXfiNT.OF  THE  TONGUS.         445 

86ein  to  himself,  and  probably  be  esteemed  by  others,  to  be  reli- 

S'ous  ?  Yet  if,  with  all  these  good  properties,  he  does  not  bridle 
s  tongue,  he  may  be  said  to  want  the  one  thing  needful.     He 
deceiveth  his  own  heart ;  his  religion  is  vain. 

But  what  are  we  to  understand  oy  bridling  the  tongue  ?  The  ex- 
pression, I  think,  will  be  sufficiently  explained  by  considering  how 
the  grace  of  God  will  necessarily  influence  and  govern  the  tongues 
of  those  who  partake  of  it,  in  what  they  say  when  they  are  led  to 
speak  of  God,  of  themselves,  and  of  or  to  their  fellow-creatures* 
Having  seen  a  glimpse  of  the  holiness  and  majesty,  the  glory  and 
the  grace,  of  the  great  God  with  whom  they  have  to  do,  their 
hearts  are  impressed  with  reverence,  and  therefore  there  is  a  so- 
briety and  decorum  in  their  language.  They  cannot  speak  lightly 
of  him,  or  of  his  ways.  One  would  suppose  that  no  person,  who 
even  but  seems  to  be  religious,  can  directly  and  expressly  profane 
his  name.  But  there  is  a  careless  manner  of  speaking  of  the  great 
God,  which  is  very  disgusting  and  very  suspicious.  So  likewise, 
the  hearts  of  believers  teach  their  mouths  to  speak  honourably  of 
God  under  all  their  afflictions  and  crosses,  acknowledging  the  wis- 
dom and  the  mercy  of  his  dispensations  ;  and  if  an  impatient  word 
escapes  them,  it  grieves  and  humbles  them,  as  quite  unbecoming 
their  situation  as  his  creatures,  and  especially  as  sinful  creatures, 
who  have  always  reason  to  acknowledge,  that  it  is  of  the  Lord's 
mercy  they  arc  not  wholly  consumed. 

When  fhey  speak  of  themselves,  their  tongues  are  bridled,  and 
restrained  from  boasting.  They  speak  as  becomes  poor,  unwor- 
thy creatures,  because  they  feel  themselves  to  be  such.  In  what 
they  say,  either  of  their  comforts  or  of  their  sorrows,  sincerity  dic- 
tates a  simplicity  which  cannot  be  easily  counterfeited  !  while 
they,  whose  tongues  are  not  thus  bridled,  often  betray  themselves 
by  an  affectation  and  want  of  savour,  even  when  they  are  lament- 
ing their  sinfulness,  and  the  vileness  of  their  hearts. 

In  what  they  say  of  or  to  others,  the  tongues  of  believers  are 
bridled  by  a  heart-felt  regard  to  truth,  love,  and  puritv.  It  is 
grievous  to  see  how  nearly  and  readily  some  professors  of  religion 
will  venture  upon  the  borders  of  a  lie  ;  either  to  defend  their  own 
conduct,  to  avoid  some  inconvenience  to  procure  a  supposed  ad- 
vantage, or  sometimes  merely  to  embellish  a  story.  Admitting  the 
possibility  of  a  sincere  person  being  surprised  into  the  declaration 
of  an  untruth,  yet  where  instances  ofthis  kind  are  frequent,  I  hardly 
know  a  fouler  blot  in  profession,  or  which  can  give  a.  more  just 
warrant  to  fear  that  such  professors  know  nothing  aright  either  of 
God  or  themselves.  The  Lord  is  a  God  of  truth  ;  and  he  teaches 
his  servants  to  hate  and  abhor  lying,  and  to  speak  the  truth  from 
their  hearts.  I  may  add  likewise,  with  regard  to  promises  and 
bargains,  that  though  the  law  of  the  land  reqnires,  on  many  occa- 


446        ON  THE  aOTEBMMENT  Of  THE  TOMOUE. 

sioDSy  oztbs  and  bondi  to  secure  tbeir  performance,  that  pertoo, 
whose  word  may  not  be  safely  depended  upon,  without  either  bond 
or  oath,  scarcely  deserves  the  name  of  Christian. 

Where  grace  is  in  the  heart,  the  tongue  will  be  likewise  bri- 
dled by  the  law  of  love.  If  we  love  our  neighbour,  can  we  lightly 
report  evil  of  him,  magnify  his  failings,  or  use  provoking  or  in- 
sulting language  ?  Love  thinketh  no  evil,  but  beareth,  hopetfa, 
and  endureth ;  and  acts  by  the  golden  rule,  to  do  unto  others  as 
we  would  they  should  do  unto  us.  They  who  are  under  this 
influence  will  be  gentle  and  compassionate,  disposed  to  make  the 
most  favourable  allowances,  and  of  course  their  tongues  will  be 
restrained  from  the  language  of  malevolence,  harsh  censure,  and 
slander,  though  it  be  familiar  to  us  as  our  mother  tongue,  till  we 
are  made  partakers  of  the  grace  of  God. 

The  tongue  is  also  bridled  by  a  regard  to  purity..  Agreeably 
to  the  precepts,  "  LiCt  no  corrupt  communication  proceed  out  of 
your  mouth  ;  neither  filthiness,  nor  foolish  talking,  nor  jesting, 
which  are  not  convenient,"  Eph.  iv.  26.  v.  4.  Grace  has  taught 
believers  to  hate  these  things ;  how  then  can  their  tongues  speak 
of  them  ?  There  are  professors,  indeed,  who  can  suit  their  lan- 
guage to  their  company.  When  with  the  people  of  God,  they  can 
talk  very  seriously  ;  and,  at  other  times,  be  well  pleased  to  join 
in  vain,  frothy,  and  evil  conversation.  But  this  double-minded- 
uess  is  of  itself  sufficient  to  discredit  all  their  pretences  to  a  reli- 
gious character. 

Upon  the  whole,  though  perfection  is  not  to  be  expected, 
though  true  believers,  may  on  some  occasions,  speak  rashly,  and 
have  great  cause  for  humiliation,  watchfulness,  and  prayer,  with 
respect  to  the  government  of  their  tongues ;  yet  I  think  the 
Scripture,  and  particularly  the  apostle  James,  in  the  passage  I 
have  mentioned,  authorizes  this  conclusion.  That  if  the  tongue  is 
frequently  without  a  bridle ;  if  it  may  be  observed,  that  a  person 
often  speaks  lightly  of  God  and  of  divine  things,  proudly  of  him- 
self, harshly  of  his  fellow-creatures ;  if  it  can  be  affirmed,  with 
truth,  that  he  is  a  liar,  a  tale-bearer,  a  railer,  a  flatterer,  or  a  jest- 
er ; — then,  whatever  other  good  qualities  he  may  seem  to  possess, 
his  speech  bewrayeth  him  :  he  deceiveth  himself,  his  religion  is 
vain.  Let  us  think  of  these  things,  and  entreat  the  Lord  to  cast 
the  salt  of  his  grace  into  the  fountain  of  our  hearts,  that  the  streams 
of  our  conversation  may  be  wholesome  ! 

OMICRON. 


pliny's  lbtteh  to  tbajan.  447 


FLINT  TO  THE  EMPEROR  TRAJAN. 

It  is  a  rule,  Sir,  which  I  inviolably  observe,  to  refer  myself 
to  yoo  in  all  my  doubts  ;  for  who  is  more  capable  of  removing 
my  scruples,  or  informing  my  ignorance  ?  Having  never  been 
present  at  any  trials  concerning  those  who  profess  Christianity,  I 
am  unacquainted  not  only  with  the  nature  of  their  crimes,  or  the 
measure  of  their  punishment,  but  how  far  it  is  proper  to  enter  into 
an  examination  concerning  them.  Whether,  therefore,  any  dif- 
ference IS  usually  made  with  respect  to  the  ages  of  the  guilty,  or 
no  distinction  is  to  be  observed  between  the  young  and  the  adult  ; 
a  latter  repentance  entitles  them  to  a  pardon  ;  or  it'  a  man  has 
been  once  a  Christian,  it  avail  nothing  to  desist  from  his  error ; 
whether  the  profession  of  Christianity,  unattended  with  any  crim- 
inal act,  or  only  the  crimes  themselves,  inherent  in  the  profession, 
are  punishable  ;  in  all  these  points  I  am  greatly  doubtful.  In  the 
mean  while,  the  method  1  have  observed  towards  those  who  have 
been  brought  before  me  as  Christians,  is  this  :  I  interrogated 
them  whether  they  were  Christians  f  if  they  confessed,  I  repeat- 
ed the  question  twice  again,  adding  threats  at  the  same  time ; 
when^if  they  still  persevered,  I  ordered  them  to  be  immediately 
punished  ;  for  I  was  persuaded,  whatever  the  nature  of  their 
opinions  might  be,  a  contumacious  and  inflexible  obstinacy, 
certainly  deserved  correction.  There  were  others  also  brought 
before  me,  possessed  of  the  same  infatuation  ;  but,  being  citizens 
of  Rome,  I  directed  them  to  be  carried  thither.  But  this  crime 
spreading  (as  is  usually  the  case)  while  it  was  actually  under  pro- 
secution, several  instances  of  the  same  nature  occurred.  An  in- 
formation was  presented  to  me,  without  any  name  subscribed^ 
containing  a  charge  against  several  persons,  who,  upon  examina- 
tion, denied  they  were  Christians,  or  had  ever  been  so.  They 
repeated,  after  me,  an  invocation  to  the  gods  }  and  offered  reli- 
gious rites,  with  wine  and  frankincense,  before  your  statue,  (which 
for  the  purpose  I  had  ordered  to  be  brought,  together  with  those 
of  the  gods,)  and  even  reviled  the  name  of  Christ ;  whereas  there 
is  no  forcing,  it  is  said,  those  who  are  really  Christians,  into  \% 
compliance  with  any  of  these  articles.  I  thought  proper,  there- 
fore, to  discharge  them.  Some  among  those  who  were  accused 
by  a  witness  in  person,  at  first  coiftessed  themselves  Christian,  but 
immediately  after  denied  it ;  whilst  the  rest  owned,  indeed,  that 
they  had  been  of  that  number  formerly,  but  had  now  (some  above 
three,  others  more,  and  a  few  above  twenty  years  ago)  forsaken 
the  error.  They  all  worshipped  your  statue,  and  the  images  of  the 
gods,  throwing  ont  imprecations  at  the  same  time   against  the 


448  RfiMAlLKS   ON   PU1MT*#   LETTEE  TO   TKAJA9« 

name  of  Christ.  They  affirmed,  the  wboje  of  their  gailt,  or  tbetr 
^rror,  was,  that  tliey  met  oq  a  certain  stated  day,  before  it  was 
light,  and  addressed  themselves  lu  a  form  of  prayer  to  Christ,  as 
to  some  God  ;  binding  themselves  by  a  solemn  oath,  not  for  the 
purpose  of  any  wicked  design,  bat  never  to  commit  any  fraud, 
theft,  or  adaltery ;  never  to  falsify  their  word,  nor  deny  a  trust, 
when  they  should  be  called  upon  to  deliver  it  up  ;  after  which  it 
was  their  custom  to  separate,  and  then  re-assemble,  to  eat  in  com- 
mon, a  harmless  meal.  From  this  custom,  however,  they  desist- 
ed after  the  publication  of  my  edi^t,  by  which  according  to 
your  orders,  I  forbade  the  meeting  of  any  assemblies.  After  re- 
ceiving this  account,  I  judged  it  so  much  the  more  necessary  to  en- 
deavour to  extort  the  real  truth,  by  putting  two  female  slaves  to 
the  torture,  who  were  said  to  administer  in  their  religions  functions ; 
but  I  could  discover  nothing  more  than  an  absurd  and  excessiire 
superstition.  I  thought  proper,  therefore,  to  adjourn  all  furtb^ 
proceedings  in  this  affair,  in  order  to  consult  with  you  :  for  it  ap- 
pears to  be  a  matter  highly  deserving  your  consideration  ;  more 
especially  as  great  numbers  must  be  involved  in  the  danger  of 
these  prosecutions,  this  inquiry  having  already  extended,  and 
being  still  likely  to  extend,  to  person  of  all  ranks  and  ages,  and 
even  of  both  sexes.  For  this  contagious  superstition  is  not  con- 
fined to  the  cities  only,  but  has  spread  its  infection  among  the 
country  villages  :  nevertheless,  it  still  seems  possible  to  remedy 
this  evil,  and  restrain  its  progress.  The  temples,  at  least,  which 
were  almost  deserted,  begin  now  to  be  frequented  ;  and  the  sa- 
cred solemnities,  after  a  long  intermission,  are  again  revived ; 
while  there  is  a  general  demand  for  the  victims,  which  for  some 
time  past  have  met  with  but  few  purchasers.  From  hence  it  is 
easy  to  imagine,  what  numbers  might  be  reclaimed  from  this  er- 
ror, if  a  pardon  were  granted  to  those  who  shall  repent, 

REMARKS. 

Several  remarks  easily  offer  from  a  perusal  of  this  valuable 
fnonument  of  ecclesiastical  antiquity,  which  I  consider  as  afford- 
ing us  one  of  the  most  authentic  testimonials  of  the  natural  ten- 
dency of  genuine  Christianity,  and  likewise  a  striking  display  of 
the  unreasonableness  and  malignity  of  the  spirit  by  wjiich  it  was 
opposed,  and  by  which  it  always  will  be  opposed  (so  far  as  the 
providence  of  God  and  the  circumstances  of  the  times  will  permit 
it  to  act)  while  tlie  state  of  the  world  and  human  nature  contin- 
ue as  they  are. 

I.  It  appears,  that  the  number  of  those  who  professed  the 
Christian  name,  when  Pliny  was  proconsul  of  Pontus  and  Bithy- 


BtWABKS    ON   PLINTHS  CCTTSK  TO   TRAJMI.  449 

iiiftf  and  particalarly  withid  the  extent  of  bis  governinent,  was 
very  great ;  so  great  that  the  heathen  temples  had  been  almost 
left  desolate,  aud  their  sacrifices  sunk  into  neglect.  Pliny  thought 
that  such  a  general  defection  from  the  old  religion  rendered  se- 
verities justifiable,  and  even  necessary  :  yet,  on  the  other  hand, 
being  a  person  of  humanity,  he  was  shocked  and  grieved  when  be 
reflected  on  the  multitudes  who  were  affected  by  such  prosecu* 
tions,  without  distinction  of  rank,  or  age,  or  sex.  Considering 
the  many  disadvantages  to  which  the  Christians  had  been  expos^ 
sed  especially  under  the  reigns  of  Nero  and  Domitiaxi,  their  great 
increase  at  the  time  of  Pliny's  writing,  (which,  at  the  tatiest,  could 
foe  but  a  few  years  after  the  commencemcot  of  the  second  centu- 
ry,) evidently  proved  that  the  propagation  and  maintenance  of 
the  Gospel  is  no  way  dependent  upon  the  rank,  titles^  or  acquired 
abilities  of  those  who  profess  it :  for,  numerous  as  the  Christians 
were,  they  were  of  so  little  note  and  esteem  in  the  world,  that 
Pliny,  who  was  a  scholar,  a  philosopher,  and  a  gentleman,  a  cu- 
rious inquirer  into  every  thing  that  was  thought  worthy  of  being 
known,  was  wholly  unacquainted  with  the  Christians,  till  bis 
office  obliged  him  to  procure  some  information  concerniug  them. 
He  had  an  extensive  acquaintance  in  Rome,  having  been  many 
years  in  public  life,  and  the  Christians  were  very  numerous  there ; 
but  he  appears  only  to  have  known  that  there  was  such  a  people  ; 
and  that  they  were  a  deluded  contemptible  people,  who  deserved 
all  that  tbey  suffered,  for  their  obstinacy.  The  very  name  of 
'Christian  was  then  odious  and  reproachful ;  and  when  in  suc- 
eeeding  ages  it  became  general  and  fashionable,  otiier  disgrace- 
ful epithets  were  substitnted  to  stigmatixe  the  faithful  servants  of 
God,  and  to  point  them  out  to  the  scorn  or  rage  of  the  world. 

II.  Multitudes,  who  had  been  willing  to  be  thought  Christians 
in  a  time  of  peace,  renounced  their  profession  when  they  could 
no  longer  maintain  it  without  the  hazard  of  their  lives.  The  terms 
of  safety  were,  to  invocate  the  gods,  to  ofier .  wine  and  incense  to 
the  statue  of  the  emperor,  and  to  blaspheme  Christ,  which  Pliny 
was  rightly  informed,  no  true  Christian  could  be  prevailed  on  to 
comply  with  :  yet,  in  fact,  when  the  persecution  was  sharp, 
so  many  yielded,  that  the  cause  seemed  visibly  to  decline.  The 
temples,  which  had  been  almost  forsaken,  were  again  frequented, 
the  solemnities  revived,  and  the  demand  for  victims  greatly  ii^ 
creased.  It  is  plain,  therefore,  that  there  were  even  in  those 
primitive  times,  many  superficial  Christians,  destitute  of  that 
faith  and  love  which  are  necessary  to  perseverance  in  the  face  of 
diUigers  and  death.  Of  course  it  is  no  new  thing  for  men  to  de- 
sert the  profession  of  the  truth,  to  which  tliey  have  formerly  ap- 
peared to  be  attached,  through  the  fear  of  man,  or  tbe  love  of  the 
Vol.  IV.  57 


460  BEMARKS    ON   PUNt's   LETTER  TO   TEAJAIT. 

world.  Tbes.e  are  tbe  stony-groand  bearers ;  and  our  Lord  bas 
assured  us,  that  such  would  be  found  wherever  his  Gospel  should 
be  preached.  But  there  were  others,  who,  having  experienced 
this  Gospel  to  be  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation,  were  faithful 
witnesses,  and  could  neither  be  intimidated  nor  flattered  into  a 
compliance  with  evil.  It  is  the  same  at  this  day  :  for  though  we 
are  mercifully  exempted  from  the  terror  of  penal  laws,  yet  tbe 
temptations  arising  from  worldly  interest,  and  tbe  prevalence  and 
force  of  evil  customs  will,  sooner  or  later,  be  too  bard  for  all  pro- 
fessors who  have  not  received  that  faith  which  is  of  the  operation 
of  God,  which,  by  communicating  a  sense  of  the  constraining  love 
of  Christ,  is  alone  able  to  purify  the  heart  from  selfish  and  sinful 
principles,  and  to  overcome  tbe  world  with  all  its  allurements  and 
threaten!  ngs. 

III.  We  have,  in  this  epistle,  an  honourable  testimony  to  the 
conduct  and  practice  of  the  Christians  in  Pliny's  time.  Though 
the  information  of  enemies  and  apostates  was  admitted,  and  even 
sought  for,  and  those  who  were  inclined  to  speak  in  their  favour 
were  put  to  the  torture,  we  see,  that  in  the  declaration  of  a  hea- 
then, nothing  is  laid  to  their  charge  which  was  in  any  degree  de- 
serving of  just  blame.  Though  their  meetings  were  accounted 
an  offence  against  the  state,  they  are  acquitted  of  any  criminal 
transactions.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  said,  that  they  bound  them- 
selves by  the  strictest  obligations  against  tbe  commission  of  im* 
mofality^  and  to  the  faithful  discharge  of  relative  duties.  An 
engagement  of  this  kind,  amongst  any  other  people,  Pliny  would 
have  approved  and  admired.  But  the  nature  of  their  reli^ons 
worship,  which  he  censures  as  a  dangerous  and  immoderate  super- 
stition, he  thought  sufficiently  criminal  in  itself,  notwithstanding 
its  influence  upon  their  conduct  was  confessedly  commendable. 
To  such  inconsistencies  are  the  wisest  men  reduced,  who  discover 
the  lecst  degree  of  candour  in  their  opposition  to  the  people  of 
Christ.  While  they  ignorantly  condemn  their  principles,  they 
are  conpelled  to  bear  witness  in  favour  of  their  general  deport- 
ment, which  is  formed  upon  those  principles,  and  which  experience 
shows,  no  other  principles  can  uniformly  produce.  It  is  true,  the 
Christians  were  often  indiscriminately  charged  with  the  greatest 
immoralities,  but  not  by  persons  of  reputation  and  judgment,  like 
Pliny,  who  were  careful  to  inquire  into  the  truth  of  what  they 
related.  At  present,  we  who  know  what  foul  aspersions  are  pro- 
pagated against  the  despised  professors  of  the  Gospel,  do  not  think 
it  necessary  to  attempt  a  formal  refutation  of  them  ;  because,  as 
we  fear  the  authors  of  such  slanders  are  incorrigible,  so  we-are 
persuaded,  with  regard  to  others,  that  there  are  very  few  persons 
(however  they  may  mistake  our  sentiments)  so  ignorant  or  ci^da^ 
lous,  as  scarcely  to  think  them  worthy  of  credit. 


REMARKS  ON  FLINT's  LETTER  TO  tRAJAN.  451 

IV.  The  object  of  divine  worship,  In  their  assemblies,  was  the 
Lor^  Jesus  Christ.  On  a  stated  day,  that  is,  on  the  day  which 
upon  this  account  has,  from  the  apostles'  time,  been  styled  the 
Lord's  day,  they  met  early  in  the  morning  to  sing  hymns  to  his 
praise  :  not  in  commemoration  of  a  mortal  benefactor  or  lawgiver, 
but  as  to  God,  acknowledging,  by  this  practice,  their  firm  persua<» 
sion  of  that  great  mystery  of  godliness,  God  manifest  in  the  flesh, 
and  that  God  was  in  Christ  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself. 
That  they  met  before  it  was  light,  was  most  probably  to  avoid 
the  notice  and  fury  of  their  persecutors.  The  enemies  of  Christ 
may  put  those  who  know  and  love  him  to  many  difficulties  and 
inconveniences ;  but  they  cannot  wholly  prevent  them  from  as* 
sembling  in  his  name,  unless  they  confine  them  in  prisons  or 
chains.  The  reason  is,  they  honour  him  as  God,  and  are  assured 
that  he  is  present  where  two  or  three  are  met  in  his  name,  at  all 
times  and  in  all  places.  Their  dependence  for  support,  direction, 
and  deliverance,  is  entirely  upon  him ;  and  when  they  worship 
him  according  to  his  will,  he  manifest  himself  unto  them  as  he 
does  not  unto  the  world.  This  they  believe,  experience,  and 
profess :  and  the  hardships  they  will  submit  to,  rather  than 
be  deprived  of  such  opportunities,  is  a  proof  that  they  are  not 
disappointed  in  their  expectations  from  him  ;  especially  if  it  be 
considered,  that  there  have  been  few  ages  in  which  a  succes- 
sion of  his  people  have  not  been  pressed  with  the  like  trials  for 
adhering  to  him.  But  no  power  or  policy  could  ever  effectually 
prevent  associations  to  honour  and  serve  him,  amongst  those  who 
were  fully  persuaded  that  he  is  their  God  and  their  Saviour. 
Bishop  Bonner,  (in  queen  Mary's  reign,)  who  was  better  versed 
in  the  arts  of  persecution^  than  in  the  history  of  the'church,  mis- 
took these  Christians,  whom  Pliny  describes,  for  heretics,  and 
charged  Philpot  with  being  altogether  like  them  ;  a  charge  which 
the  good  man  received  as  a  great,  though  an  undesigned  honour. 

V.  The  severity  with  which  the  persecution  was  carried  on  under 
Trajan,  appears  from  the  doubt  proposed  by  Pliny,  whether  he  was 
at  liberty  to  make  any  allowance  in  particular  cases,  or  must  pun- 
ish all  alike  who  were  guilty  of  bearing  the  Christian  name,  with- 
out paying  the  least  regard  to  sex,  age,  ratik,  or  circumstance. 
Though  desirous  to  show  lenity,  he  did  not  think  himself  author- 
ised to  reject  the  most  invidious  or  private  accusations;  nor  even  to 
accept  of  a  recantation  without  the  emperor's  express  warrant.  ^  It 
is  plain  that  he  considered  the  mitigations  he  proposed,  as  a  devia- 
tion from  the  ordinary  course  of  proceeding  against  them.  Histo- 
ry scarcely  affords  an  instance  of  such  undistinguishing  rage  ex- 
erted against  any  people,  upon  any  occasion,  except  against 
those  who  have  been  punished  for  righteousness'  sake,  tJMugh 


^i9^  REM AAKS  ON  PUmr's  LBTTKB  TO  TaUAN. 

tbey  indeed  have  often  been  exposed  to  similar  treatment  both 
from  heattiens  and  professed  Christians.  lo  cases  of  sedition,  or 
even  rebellion  against  civil  government,  though  many  perflaps 
suffer,  the  greater  number  asually  obtain  mercy.  The  devouring 
sword  of  war  seldom  preys  upon  the  defenceless,  upon  *  tender 
youth,  or  hoary  age,  or  women.  Some  bounds  are  set  by  the 
feelings  of  humanity  to  the  carnage  of  a  field  of  battle  :  but  when 
the  nati\*e  enmity  of  the  heart,  against  those  of  whom  the  world  is 
not  worthy,  is  permitted  to  act  without  restraint,  it  acknowledges 
no  distinctions,  it  feels  no  compassion,  but,  like  the  insatiable  fire, 
consumes  whatever  it  can  reach.  If  there  be  some  exceptions,  a 
few  persons  of  gentle  natural  dispositions,  who  are  unwilling  to 
shed  blood,  and  rather  express  their  dislike  by  a  contemptuous 

City — this  is  chiefly  to  be  ascribed  to  the  power  of  God  over  the 
eart  of  roan ;  and  he  sometimes  makes  use  of  these  to  check  the 
violence  of  the  others.  Such  a  one  was  Pliny ;  he  had  no  esteem 
for  the  Christians,  he  despised  them  as  deluded  enthusiasts,  and 
be  was  angry  with  them  for  what  he  deemed  their  obstinacy  :  yet 
the  greatness  of  their  sufferings,  and  the  number  of  the  sufferers, 
gave  him  some  concern,  and  made  him  interpose  in  their  favour, 
so  far  as  to  prevent  them  from  being  industriously  sought  out,  or 
punished  without  witness  or  proof. 

VI.  The  chief  or  only  crime  of  the  Christians,  in  the  judgment 
of  pliny,  was,  their  steadiness  in  maintaining  a  cause  which  the  em- 

Ceror  did  not  approve,  and  continuing  their  assemblies  after  tbey 
ad  been  prohibited  by  his  edict :  for  this  audacity  and  presumption 
he  supposed  them  deserving  of  the  heaviest  punishment,  however 
blameless jn  other  respects.  It  roust  be  allowed,  that,  as  the  edicts 
of  the  Roman  emperors  had  at  that  time  the  force  of  law,  the 
profession  of  Christianity,  when  forbidden  by  those  edicts,  was  iU 
legal,  and  if  the  penalties  they  suffered  were  prescribed  by  the 
edict,  and  they  were  tried  and  condemned  under  the  same  forms 
as  were  usually  observed  in  other  criminal  processes,  they  suffered 
according  to  law.  Thus  it  appeared  to  Pliny  ;  and  thoogbi  in 
his  private  capacity,  he  might  pity  the  offenders,  yet,  as  a  govern- 
or and  a  judge,  he  thought  it  his  duty  to  give  sentence  according 
to  the  rule  prescribed  to  him.  At  this  distance  of  time,  and 
while  we  keep  in  view  that  the  persecutors  were  heathens,  we  can 
readily  plead  in  behalf  of  the  Christians.  The  obstinacy  they 
were  charged  with,  was  no  other  than  a  commendable  regard  to 
the  superior  authority^  of  God.  In  all  things  not  inconsistent 
with  their  duty  to  their  supreme  Liord,  they  were  peaceable  and 
obedient  subjects  to  the  emperor;  but,  to  countenance  the  wor- 
ship of  idols,  to  burn  incense  to  the  statue  of  a  man,  to  abjure  the 
name  of  Jesus,  who  had  redeemed  them  from  hell,  or  wilfully  to 


mxiiABKS  ON  ruinr's  ^cr»&  to  rniJA».  45S 

l^lect  his  institutions ;  tbesq  things  they  coald  iiot  do  witboot  sin, 
and  therefore  they  chose  to  suffer.  We  ajsprove  their  detifrmina- 
lion,  and  admire  their  constfincy.  But  a  question  naturally  arises 
upon  this  subject,  namely,  Whether  God  be-  the  Lord  of  the  con* 
science  under  a  heathen  government  only  f  or. whether  any  man, 
or  set  of  men,  who  own  the*  Christian  name,  can  have  a  better 
right  than  Trajan  bad,  to  compel  men  to  act  contrary  to  the  light 
of  their  minds,  or  to  punish  them  for  ^  refusal  ?  As  true  Christ 
tians  have  always,  by  the  influence  of  his  grace,  extorted  from  the 
.  more  sober  part  of  their  adversaries,  a  confession' in  favour  of  their 
moral  and  peaceable  conduct,  they  have  been  usually  proceeded 
against  upon  the  principle  which  influenced  Pliny:  not  so  roiicb 
for  the  singularity  of  their  religioua  tenets  and  usages,  which  are 
pretended  to  be  so  weak  and  absurd  as  to  excite  contempt  rather 
than  anger ;  but  for  their  pertinacity  in  persisting  to  maintain 
them  contrary  to  the  laws  and  injunctions  which  have  been  con« 
trived  for  their  suppression.  There  have  been  men,  in  most  ages 
of  the  church,  whose  ambition  and  thirst  of  power  have  been  grat- 
ified by  thus  tyranizing  over  the  consciences  of  their  fellow-crea- 
tures, or  (if  they  could  not  prevail  over  conscienee)  over  their 
liberty,  fortunes,  and  lives ;  and  they  have,  by  flattery  or  misrep* 
resentation,  bad  but  too  much  success  in  engaging  the  authority 
of  princes  to  support  their  designs.  How  many  instances  might 
we  quote,  from  the  history  of  kings  and  rulers,  who,  in  other  res- 
pects,  have  sought  the  welfare  of  their  people,  who  yet  being  mis- 
led to  esteem  it  a  branch  of  their  prerogative,  to  dictate  in  what 
manner  God  shall  be  worshipped,  and  what  points  shall  be  receiv- 
ed as  articles  of  faith,  have  crowded  the  annals  of  their  reigns  with 
misery,  and  have  often,  themselves,  largely  shared  in  the  calami- 
ties which  their  ill-judged  measures  have  brought  upon  their  sub« 
jects  !  A  uniformity  of  modes  in  religion,  has  been  enforced,  as 
though  it  were  the  most  desirable  object  of  government ;  though 
it  may  be  proved,  that  to  prescribe,  under  the  severest  pen- 
alties, a  uniformity  of  complexion  or  stature,  would  hardly  be 
more  unreasonable  in  itself,  or  more  injurious  to  the  peace  and 
rights  of  society.  Sometimes  the  servants  of  God  have  been  tra- 
duced as  perso.n8  disafiected  to  government,  because  they  cannot 
adopt  or  approve  such  institutions  as  are  directly  subversive  of 
the  faith  and  obedience  they  owe  to  their  Lord :  thus  the  prophet 
was  charged  by  Amaiiah,  the  high-pi:iest  of  Bethel,  Amos,  vii.  10. 
At  other  times,  new  laws  have  been  enacted,  purposely  to  ensnare 
or  distress  them.  Thus,  when  the  enemies  of  Daniel  were  con- 
vinced that  they  could  find  no  occasion  against  him,  efcept  con** 
cerning  the  law  of  his  God ;  by  flattering  the  pride  of  Darius, 
they  obtained  a  decree,  which,  according  to  their  expectation. 


4S4  LEmea  to  a  toi^no  ministeb. 

gave  bim  up  into  their  power  as  a  criminal  against  the  state.  May 
we  be  dyly  thankful  to  God,  and  to  the  government  under  which 
we  live,  for  the  valuable  privilege  of  religious  liberty;  and  that 
we  can  worship  him  according  to  the  light  of  our  consciences,  and 
assemble  together  in  his  name  where  and  when  we  please,  none 
being  permitted  to  make  us  afraid !  '  OMICRON. 


LETTER  TO  A  YOUNG  MINISTER. 

On  Preaching  the  Oospel  with  the  Power  and  demanstratian  of 

the  Spirit. 

Dear  Sir, 

I  CONGRATULATE  you  ou  your  ordination.  The  Lord  has 
now,  by  his  providence,  opened  to  you  a  door  into  his  vineyard, 
and  has  called  you  to  a  scene  of  service,  in  which  I  hope  the  abili- 
Jties  he  has  given  you  will  be  faithfully  employed,  and  your  desire 
of  usefulness  will  be  abundantly  gratified.  You  now  bear  the 
high  and  honourable  title  of  a  minister  of  the  Gospel :  I  call  it 
high  and  honourable,  because  I  am  suretfaey  who  truly  deserve  it, 
will  find  it  to  be  so  at  last ;  though  at  present  perhaps  they  may 
meet  with  much  opposition  and  contempt,  for  the  sake  of  him 
whose  they  are,  and  whom  they  serve. 

i  wish  you,  upon  your  entrance  into  the  ministry,  to  have  a 
formjsd  and  determinate  idea,  what  the  phrase,  preaching  the  Gos- 
pel properly  signifies.  The  Gospel  is  the  power  of  God  unto 
salvation ;  and  this  Gospel  is  preached  when  it  is  accompanied 
with  some  due  degree  of  that  demonstration  and  power  from  on 
high,  which  is  necessary  to  bring  it  home  to  the  hearts  and  con- 
scieaces  of  the  hearers..  Thus  the  apostle  Peter  informs  us,  "  that 
it  was  preached  in  the  beginning  with  the  Holy  Ghost  sent  down 
from  heaven  :"  and  Paul  reminds  the  Thessalonians,  "  that  they 
had  received  it  not  in  word  only,  but  also  in  power,  and  in  the  Ho* 
ly  Ghost,  and  in  much  assurance."  From  these  passages,  I  think 
we  may  warrantably  conclude,  that  merely  to  declare  the  truth 
of  the  Gcospel,  is  not  io  preach  it.  The  knowledge  of  it  as  a  sys- 
tem may  be  acquired,  and  of  course  recited  by  those  who  have 
no  portion  or  tincture  of  that  inward  conviction  of  its  important 
certainty,  which  is  necessary  to  impress  a  correspondent  convic- 
tion upon  others.  Though  the  Lord  himself  be  the  only  effectual 
teacher,  agd  that  change  of  disposition  which  is  frequently  produced 
by  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel,  must  be  ascribed  wholly  to  his 
agency ;  yet  in  the  means  he  has  instituted,  and  by  which  he  has 
ordinarily  pleased  to  work,  we  may  observe  a  suitableness  to  the 


LtTTSB  TO  A  TOURO  HI9ISTC&.  455 

natare  of  man,  conridered  as  a  rational,  intelligent  creature,  whose 
inward  feelings  are  excited  by  external  causes,  in  a  manner  agree- 
able to  the  general  laws  of  his  constitution  in  the  present  state.  1 
may  particularly  notice,  on  this  subject,  the  wonderful  and  well  • 
known  effects  of  what  we  cM  sympathy j  by  which  we  often  see  the 
emotions  of  anger,  pity,  terror,  and  the  like,  with  which  one  per- 
son is  affected,  when  strongly  expressed  by  his  words  or  actious, 
suddenly  and  almost  irresistibly  awaken  similar  sensations  in  those 
who  observe  him.  Many  of  the  great  truths  of  the  Scripture  may 
be  represented  by  a  man  of  a  warm  aod  lively  imagination,  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  considerably  affect  the  imaginations  and  natural 
passions  of  an  audience,  even  though  he  should  not  himself  be- 
lieve a  word  Of  the  subject.  This  would  be  an  effect  of  no  higher 
kind  than  is  produced  upon  the  stage.  The  exertions  of  a  skil- 
ful actor  first  drawn  forth  by  the  sight  of  the  spectators  and  a  de- 
sire to  please  them,  act  upon  them  reciprocally,  and  give  him  an 
ascendancy  over  tl^eir  feelings.  When  his  attention  seems  to  be 
fixed,  when  he  appears  to  enter  into  the  distresses  of  the  charac- 
ter which  he  represents,  he  fixes  their  attention  likewise,  they  also 
are  distressed ;  and  while  he  weeps  or  trembles,  they  weep  or  trem- 
ble with  him,  and  though  at  the  same  time,  both  be  and  they  are 
very  sensible  that  the  whole  representation  is  a  fiction,  and  conse- 
quently, when  the  play  is  finished  the  emotions  cease.  This  is  all 
very  natural,  and  may  easily  be  accounted  for.  It  is  not  easy  to 
account  for  the  presumption  of  those  preachers,  who  expect,  (if 
they  can  indeed  expect  it,)  merely  by  declaiming  on  Gospel  sub- 
jects, to  raise  in  their  hearers  those  spiritual  perceptions  of  humil- 
iation, desire,  love,  joy,  and  peace,  of  which  they  have  no  impres- 
sion on  their  own  hearts.  I  premise,  therefore,  that  there  is  one 
species  of  popularity  which  I  hope  will  rather  be  the  object  of 
your  dread  than  of  your  ambition.  It  is  a  poor  affair  to  be  a  stage- 
player  in  divinity,  to  be  able  to  hold  a  congregation  by  the  ears,  by 
furnishing  them  with  an  hour's  amusement,  if  this  be  all.  But  the 
man  who  is  what  be  professes  to  be,  who  knows  what  he  speaks 
of,  in  whom  the  truth  dwells  and  lives,  who  has  not  received  the  Gos- 
pel from  books,  or  by  hearers  only,  but  in  the  school  of  the  great 
Teacher,  acquires  a  discernment,  a  taste,  a  tenderness,  and  a  hu- 
mility, which  secure  to  him  the  approbation  of  the  judicious, 
qualify  him  for  the  consolation  of  the  distressed,  and  even  so  far 
open  his  way  to  the  hearts  of  the  prejudiced,  that  if  they  refuse 
to  be  persuaded,  they  are  often  convicted  in  their  own  consciences, 
and  forced  to  feel  that  God  is  with  the  preacher.  When  Philip 
preached,  the  Eunuch  rejoiced  ;  when  Paul  preached,  Felix  trem- 
bled. The  power  of  the  truth  was  equally  evident  in  both  cases, 
though  the  effects  were  different.     One  criterion  of  the  Gospel 


456  LfeTIXR  TO  A   roVHO  MtirtSTAR* 

ministry,  when  rightly  dispensed,  is,  that  it  enters  the  recesses  of 
the  heart.  The  hearer  is  amazed  to  find  that  the  preacher,  who 
perhaps  never  saw  him  before,  describes  him  to  himself,  as  though 
he  had  lived  long  in  the  same  house  with  him,  and  was -acquainted 
with  his  conduct,  his  conversation,  and  even  with  his  secret 
thoughts,  1  Cur.  xiv.  24,  25.  Thus  a  single  sentence  frequently 
awakens  a  long  train  of  recollection,  removes  scruples,  satisfies 
doubts,  and  leads  to  the  happiest  consequences  :  aud  what  we 
read  of  Nathaniel  and  the  woman  of  Samaria,  is  still  exemplified 
in  the  conversion  of  many  ;  while  others,  who  wilfully  resist  the 
evidence,  and  turn  from  the  light,  which  forces  itself  upon  their 
minds,  are  left  without  excuse.  If,  therefore,  you  wish  to  preach 
the  Gospel  with  power,  pray  for  a  simple,  humble  spirit,  that  you 
may  have  no  allowed  end  iu  view,  but  to  proclaim  the  glory  of 
the  Lord  whom  you  profess  to  serve,  to  do  his  will,  and  for  his 
sake  to  be  useful  to  the  souls  of  men.  Study  the  wonl  of  God, 
and  the  workings  of  your  own  heart,  and  avoid  all  those  connex- 
ions, communications,  and  pursuits,  which,  experience  will  tell 
you,  have  a  tendency  to  damp  the  energy,  or  to  blunt  the  sensi- 
pility  of  your  spirit.  Thus  shall  you  come  forth  as  a  scribe, 
well  instructed  in  the  mysteries  of  the  kingdom,  a  workman  that 
needeth  not  to  be  ashamed,  approved  of  God,  acceptable  to  men, 
rightly  dividing  the  word  of  truth.  Thus  your  trumpet  shall  not 
give  an  uncei-tain  sound,  nor  shall  you  appear  like  a  cloud  with- 
out water,  to  raise  and  disappoint  the  expectations  of  your  hear- 
ers. A  just  confidence  of  the  truths  you  speak,  a  sense  of  the  im- 
portance of  your  message,  a  love  to  precious  souls,  and  a  percep- 
tion of  the  divine  presence,  will  give  your  discourses  a  solidity,  a 
seriousness,  a  weight,  which  wul  iniprrss  a  sympathetic  feeling 
upon  your  bearers,  and  they  will  attend,  as  to  one  who  speaks 
with  spirit,  demonstration,  and  power. 

Allow  me,  before  1  conclude,  to  caution  you  against  some  too 
prevalent  mistakes  upon  this  subject.  Thei'e  are  methods  some- 
times used  to  fix  the  attention  of  an  audience,  it  is  hoped,  with  a 
design  to  their  benefit,  which  are  very  dilferent  from  preaching 
with  power,  and  seldom  produce  any  lasting  effect  upon  a  sensible 
hearer,  hut  an  unfavourable  idea  of  the  preacher. 

Beware  of  affecting  the  orator.  I  do  not  advise  you  to  pay  no 
regard  to  a  just  and  proper  elocution  ;  it  deserves  your  attention, 
and  many  a  good  sermon  loses  much  of  the  effect  it  might  other- 
wise produce,  by  an  awkward  and  uncouth  delivery.  But  let  your 
elocution  be  natural.  Despise  the  little  arts  by  which  men  of  lit- 
tle minds  endeavour  to  set  themselves  off ;  they  will  blast  your 
success,  and  expose  you  to  contempt.  The  grand  principle  of 
Gospel  oratory  is  simplicity.  Affectation  is  displeasing  in  all  per- 
5?ons,  but  in  none  is  it  so  highly  disgusting  as  in  a  preacher.     A 


LPTTSlt    TO  A   TaUNO  MIKIST&R.  45? 

.Studied  attitude,  a  measured  motion,  a  nice  attention  to  cadences 
and  pauses,  a  mimicry  of  theatrical  action,  may  be  passable  in  the 

.  recital  of  a  school  declamation,  but  is  hateful  in  the  pulpit.  Men 
oever  do,  never  can,  speak  thus,  when  they  speak  from  the  emo* 
tion  of  their  hearts.  How  is  it  possible,  then,  for  a  man  who  pro- 
fesses to  speak  for  God,  who  addresses  himself  to  immortal  souls, 
who  discourses  upon  the  most  important  subjects,  the  love  of 
Christ,  the  joys  of  heaven,  or  the  terrors  of  the  Lord ;  how  is  it 
^possible  for  this  man  te  find  leisure  or  disposition  for  such  pomp- 
ous triflings  if  he  really  understands  and  believes  what  he  says  ? 
The  truly  pious  will  weep  for  hi$  ill*timed  vanity.  And  if  any 
seem  pleased,  it  is  chiefly  because  this  manner  of  preaching  sel- 
dom disturbs  the  conscience,  for  it  cannot  be  expected  that  God 
will  vouchsafe  the  testimony  of  his  Spirit,  even  to  his  own  truths, 
when  the  poor  worm  who  delivers  them,  is  visibly  more  solicitous 
for  the  character  of  an  eloquent  speaker,  than  for  the  success  of 
his  message. 

Sometimes  vociferation  seems  to  be  considered  as  a  mark  of 

{)owerful  preaching.  But  I  believe  a  sermon  that  is  loud  and  noisy 
rom  jbeginning  to  end,  seldom  produces  much  good  effect.  Here, 
again,  my  friend,  if  you  are  happily  possessed  of  simplicity,  it  will 
be  a  good  guide.  It  will  help  you  to  adjust  your  voice  to  the  size 
of  the  place  or  congregation,  and  then  to  the  variations  of  your  sub- 
ject. When  the  explanation  of  the  text  and  the  application  of  the 
sermon  are  both  in  the  same  boisterous  tone,  I  am  led  to  consider 
it  rather  as  a  proof  of  the  want  of  power  than  otherwise.  It  seems 
impossible  for  a  preacher  to  be  equally  affected  in  every  part  of 
his  discourse,  and  therefore,  if  he  appears  to  be  so,  his  exertion,  in 
some  parts  at  least,  must  be  constrained  and  artificial,  and  this 
thought  will  often  bring  a  suspicion  upon,  the  whole  ;  espe*> 
cially  if  his  voice  be  as  vehement  in  prayer  as  in  preaching* 
We  doubt  not  but  if  he  were  with  the  king,  a  certain  composure 
and  modesty  of  air,  would  indicate  that  he  considered  whom  he 
was  speaking  to  ;  and  they  who  speak  to  God,  would  certainly 

K' ve  tokens  of  an  awe  upon  their  spirits  if  they  really  felt  it ;  very 
ud  spea|[ing  is  far  from  being  a  token  of  such  a  frame.  At  the 
best,  very  loud  preaching  is  the  effect  of  a  bad  habit ;  and, 
though  it  may  be  pi-actised  by  good  men  and  good  preachers,  I  am 
persuaded  it  is  neither  sign  nor  cause  of  the  word  being  received 
with  power  by  the  hearers.  People  are  seldom,  if  ever,  stunned 
into  the  love  of  the  truth. 

There  is  another  strain  of  preaching  which,  though  it  wears  the 

furb  of  zeal,  is  seldom  a  proof  of  any  power  but  the  power  of  self, 
mean  angry  and  scolding  preaching.    The  Gospel  is  a  benevo- 
lent scheme,  and  whoever  speaks  in  the  power  of  it,  will  assuredly 
speak  in  love,     in  tljiiC  most  faithful  rebukes  of  sin,  in  the  mo^t  sot 
Vol.  IV.  58 


458  OV   A   DECLINE   IN   THE   SPIRITUAL  LIFE. 

lemn  declarations  of  God's  displeasure  against  it,  a  preacher  may 
give  evidence  of  a  disposition  of  good-will  and  compassion  to  sin- 
ners, and  assuredly  will,  if  he  speaks  under  the  influence  of  the 
power  of  truth.  If  we  can  indulge  invective  and  bitterness  in  the 
pulpit,  we  know  not  what  spirit  we  are  of ;  we  are  but  gratifying 
our  own  evil  tempers,  under  the  pretence  of  a  concern  for  the 
cause  of  God  and  truth.  A  preacher  of  this  character,  instead  of 
resembling  a  priest  bearing  in  his  censer  hallowed  fire  taken  from 
God's  altar,  may  be  compared  to  the  madman  described  in  the 
Proverbs,  who  scattereth,  at  random,  firebrands,  and  arrows,  and 
death,  and  saith.  Am  not  I  in  sport  ?  Such  persons  may  applaud 
their  own  faithfulness  and  courage,  and  think  it  a  great  attainment 
that  they  can  so  easily  and  constantly  set  their  congregation  at 
defiance  ;  but  they  must  not  expect  to  be  useful,  so  lone  as  it 
remains  a  truth,  that  the  wrath  of  man  worketh  not  the  righteous* 
ness  of  God. 

But  the  limits  of  a  letter  constrain  me  to  stop  here,  only  adding 
my  prayers  and  best  wishes  for  your  comfort  and  success* 

I  am  your  sincere  friend, 

OMICRON. 


QUESTION. 

What  are  the  most  obviotis  Causes^  SymptonUj  and  Effects  of  (t 
Decline  in  the  Spirituai  Lifen 

Believers  are,  by  nature,  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins,  even  as 
others ;  but,  by  faith  in  the  Son  of  God,  they  are  made  partakers 
of  a  new  and  endless  life.  They  derive  it  irom  him  ;  and  he  has 
said,  ^<  because  I  live  ye  shall  live  also."  But  the  life  of  this  life, 
if  1  may  so  speak,  its  manifestation  and  exercise,  is  subject  to  great 
changes.  A  sick  man  is  still  alive,  but  he  has  lost  the  cheerful- 
ness, activity,  and  vigour,  which  he  possessed  while  he  was  in 
health.  There  are  many  persons,  who,  if  they  be,  as  we  would 
hope,  really  alive  to  God,  are  at  least  sick,  languid,  and  in  a  de* 
dining  state.  May  the  ereat  Physician  restore  them  !  It  is  some- 
times  said  that  the  knowledge  of  a  disease  amounts  to  half  a  reme- 
dy; which  will  hold  thus  far  in  the  present  case,  that  unless  we 
are  sensible  of  our  disorder  and  our  danger,  we  shall  not  be  hear- 
tily solicitous  for  a  recovery. 

The  caubcs  and  symptoms,  or  effects  of  such  a  decline,  are  very 
numerous?,  nor  is  it  always  easy  to  distinguish  them,  for  they  have 
reciprocal  influence  to  strengthen  each  other.  What  may  be  as- 
signed as  the  cause,  in  many  cases,  is  likewise  a  proof  that  the 


ON   A   DECLINE   IN   THE   SPIRITUAL   LIFE.  459 

plague  is  already  begun  ;  and  the  effects  may  be  considered  as  so 
many  causes,  which  render  the  malady  more  confirmed,  and  more 
dangerous* 

Among  the  many  general  causes,  we  may  assign  a  principal 
place  to  error.  I  ao  not  include  every  mistake  or  erroneous  senti- 
ment, which  may  be  adopted  or  retained  ;  but  there  are  some  er- 
rors which,  for  the  suddenness  and  violence  of  their  operation,  may 
be  compared  to  poison.  Thus  the  Galatians^  by  listening  to  false 
leachers,  were  seduced  from  the  simplicity  of  the  Gospel ;  the 
consequence  was,  that  they  quickly  lost  the  blessedness  they  ha(J 
once  spoken  of.  Poison  is  seldom  taken  in  the  gross  ;  but,  if 
mingled  with  food,  the  mischief  is  not  suspected  until  it  is  discover 
red  by  th^  effect.  Thus  they  who  are  unhappily  employed  in  poi- 
soning souls,  generally  make  use  of  some  important  and  salutary 
truth,  as  a  vehicle  by  which  ihey  convey  their  malignant  drug  into 
the  minds  of  the  unwary.  Perhaps  they  speak  well  of  the  person 
and  atonement  of  Christ,  or  they  exalt  the  riches  and  freedom 
of  divine  grace,  while,  under  the  veil  of  these  fair  pretences,  they 
insinuate  prejudices  against  the  nature  or  necessity  of  that  holi^ 
ness,  without  which  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord.  Others  speak 
strongly,  in  general  terms,  in  favour  of  personal  holiness ;  but  their 
'aim  is  to  withdraw  the  heart  from  a  dependence  upon  the  Sav- 
iour's blood,  and  thts  influences  of  his  Holy  Spirit,  without  which 
the  most  studied  exactness  of  conduct  differs  no  less  from  the  holi- 
ness of  the  Gospel,  than  a  picture  or  a  statue,  or  a  dead  carcass, 
differs  from  a  itving  man.  Whoever  is  thus  prevailed  upon,  in  the 
^reat  and  essential  points  of  Scriptural  doctrine,  to  separate,  in  his 
judgment  and  experience,  those  things  which  God  has  joined  to- 
gether, is  already  infected  with  a  disease  in  its  own  nature  mortal, 
and  his  religion,  unless  the  Lord  mercifully  interposes,  will  degen- 
erate either  into  licentiousness  or  formality.  We  live  in  a  day 
when  too  many  are  tossed  to  and  fro,  like  ships  without  helm  or 
pilot,  by  various  winds  of  doctrine  ;  and  therefore  they  who  wish 
well  to  their  own  souls,  cannot  be  too  much  upon  their  guard 
against  that  spirit  of  curiosity  and  adventure,  which  the  apostle 
describes  by  the  metaphor  of  having  itching  cars;  a  desire  of  hear- 
ing every  novel  and  singular  teacher,  lest  they  imbibe  errors  be- 
fore they  are  aware,  and  become  a  prey  to  the  slight  and  ci^fti- 
Acss  of  those  who  lie  in  weight  to  deceive. 

Spiritual  pride  and  self-complacence  will  likewise  infallibly 
cause  a  declension  in  the  divine  life,  though  the  mind  may  be  pre- 
served from  the  infection  of  doctrinal  errors,  and  though  the  power 
of  Gospel  truth  may  for  a  lime  have  been  really  experienced.  If 
our  attainments  in  knowledge  and  gifts,  and  even  in  ^ce,  seduce 
us  into  a  good  o|)inion  of  ourselves,  as  if  we  were  wise  and  good, 
we  are  .already  ensnared;  in  danger  of  falling  every  step  i%'e  take; 


4(0  ON   A   DECLmE    IN   THE    SPIRITUAL   Lir%« 

of  mistaking  the  right  path,  and  proceeding  from  bad  to  worse* 
without  a  power  of  correcting  or  even  discovering  our  deviations, 
unless  and  until  the  Lord  mercifully  interposes,  by  restoring  us  to 
a  spirit  of  humility  and  dependence.  For  God,  who  givelh  more 
grace  to  the  humble,  resisteth  the  proud ;  he  beholds  them  with 
abhorrence,  in  proportion  to  the  degree  in  which  they  admire 
themselves.  It  is  the  invariable  law  of  his  kingdom,  that  every 
one  who  exalteth  himself  shall  be  abased.  True  Christians, 
through  the  remaining  evil  of  their  hearts,  and  the  subtle  tempta- 
tions of  their  enemy,  are  liable,  not  only  to  the  workings  of  tbait 
pride  which  is  common  to  our  fallen  nature,  but  to  a  certain  kind  of 
pride,  which,  though  the  most  absurd  and  intolerable  of  any,  can 
only  be  found  among  those  who  make  profession  of  the  Gospel. 
We  have  notbing  but  what  we  have  received,  and  therefore  to  be 
proud  of  titles,  wealth,  or  any  temporal  advantages,  by  which  the 
providence  of  God  has  distinguished  us,  is  sinful ;  bat  for  those 
who  confess  themselves  to  be  sinners,  and  therefore  deserving  of 
nothing  but  misery  and  wrath,  to  be  proud  of  those  peculiar  bles- 
sings which  are  derived  from  the  Gospel  of  his  grace,  is  a  wicked- 
ness of  which  even  the  fallen  angels  are  not  capable.  The  apos- 
tle Paul  was  so  aware  of  his  danger  of  being  exalted  above  mea- 
sure, through  the  abundant  revelations  and  peculiar  favours  which 
the  Lord  had  afforded  him,  that  he  says,  ^^  Tfiere  was  given  me  a 
messenger  of  Satan  to  buffet  me.''  He  speaks  of  this  sharp  dis- 
pensation as  an  additional  mercy,  because  he  saw  it  was  neces- 
sary, and  designed  to  keep  him  bumble  and  attentive  to  his  own 
weakness.  Ministers  who  are  honoured  with  singular  abilities  and 
success,  have  great  need  of  watchfulness  and  prayer  on  this  ac- 
count. The  Lord  seeth  not  as  man  seeth.  Simple  hearted  hear- 
ers are  apt  to  admire  their  favourite  preacher,  and  almost  to  con- 
sider him  as  something  more  than  man  tn  the  pulpit ;  taking  it  for 
granted  that  he  is  deeply  affected  himself  with  the  truths  which, 
with  so  much  apparent  liberty  and  power,  he  proposes  to  them  ; 
while,  perhaps,  the  poor  worm  is  secretly  indulging  self-applause, 
and  pleasing  himself  with  the  numbers  and  attention  of  those  who 
hang  upon  his  words.  Perhaps  such  thoughts  will  occasionally 
Tisc  m  the  minds  of  the  best  ministers  ;  but  if  they  are  allowed,  i£ 
they  become  habitual,  and  enter  strongly  into  the  idea  he  forms  of 
his  own  character  ;  and  if,  while  he  professes  to  preach  Christ  Je- 
sus the  Lord,  he  is  preaching  himself,  and  seeking  his  own  glory, 
he  is  guilty  of  high  treason  against  the  Majesty  of  him  in  whose 
name  he  speaks.  And  sooner  or  later,  the  effects  of  bis  prejiump- 
tion  will  be  visible  and  noticed.  Errors  in  judgment,  gross  mis- 
cor^duct,  an  abatement  of  zeal,  of  gifts,  of  inHaence,  are  evils 
always  to  be  dreaded,  when  spiritual  pride  has  gained  an  aspn- 
diency,  whether  in  public  or  in  private  fife. 


ON    A   BECLINE    IN   THE    SPIRITUAL  LIFE.  461 

An  inordinate  desire  and  attachment  to  the  things  of  the  pre- 
sent world,  may  be  asstgned  as  a  third  prevailing  cause  of  a  reli- 
gious declension.  Unless  this  evil  principle  be  mortified  in  its 
root,  by  the  doctrine  of  the  cross,  it  will,  in  time  prevail  over  the 
most  splendid  profession.  That  love  of  the  world,  which  is  incon- 
sistent whh  the  true  love  of  God,  manifests  itself  in  two  difTerent 
ways,  as  men  by  temper  ^nd  habit,  are  differently  disposed.  The 
first  is  covetoQsness,  or  greediness  of  gain.  This  was  the  ruin  of 
Judas,  and  probably  the  cause  of  the  defection  of  Demas.  By 
\he  honourable  mention  made  of  him  iu  some  of  St.  Paul's  epis- 
tles, he  seems  to  have  had  much  of  his  confidence  and  esteem  for 
a  season.  Yet  at  length  his  ruling  passion  prevailed,  and  the  last 
account  we  have  of  him  from  the  apostle,  is,  '*  Demas  hath  for- 
saken us,  having  loved  this  present  world."  Again,  there  are  per- 
sons not  chargeable  with  the  love  of  money  for  its  own  sake,  for 
they  rather  squander  than  hoard  it,  who  are  equally  under  the 
power  of  a  worldly  spirit,  and  equally  discover  it  by  an  expen- 
sive taste  in  the  articles  of  dress,  furniture,  and  feasting,  often  un- 
suitable to  their  circumstances,  and  always  to  their  profession. 
It  is  not  easy  exactly  to  mark  out  the  line  of  conduct  in  these  re- 
spects, which  becomes  the  different  situations  in  which  the  provi- 
dence of  God  has  placed  us :  nor  is  it  necessary,  to  those  who  are 
npright  in  heart.  A  simple  desire  of  pleasing  Goc^,  and  adorning 
the  Gospel,  will  preclude  many  cases  of  niinnte  casuistry,  which 
occupy  little  and  trifling  minds.  Inclination  will  always  direct 
and  regulate  our  voluntary  expenses.  They  who  love  the  Lord, 
and  whose  spirits  are  lively  in  bis  service,  will  avoid  both  parsi- 
mony and  profusion  ;  but  they  will  rather  lean  to  the  frugal  side 
in  what  concerns  themselves,  tliat  they  may  be  better  able  to  pro- 
mote bis  cause,  and  to  relieve  the  necessitous  for  his  sake.  Oth- 
ers, who  can  be  content  with  a  name  to  live,  with  the  form  of  reli* 
gion,  will  lay  up  all  they  can  save  to  gratify  their  avarice,  or  lay 
out  all  they  can  spare  to  gratify  their  vanity  or  their  appetites. 
The  miser  laments  that,  in  this  declining  day,  many  professors 
of  ihe  Gospel  can  hardly  be  distinguished,  either  at  home  or 
abroad,  from  the  people  of  the  world.  The  luxurious  professor 
is  concerned  to  see  some  persons,  who  would  be  deemed  Chris- 
tians, so  penurious  that,  though  known  to  be  rich,  they  live  below 
their  ranks,  and  can  scarcely  allow  themselves  the  deceut  conven- 
iences of  life.  And  so  far  they  are  both  right ;  but  it  would  be 
better  for  both  if  each  could  be  sensible  of  his  own  mistake.  It  is 
not  easy  to  determine  which  of  these  evils  is  the  greatest.  Per- 
haps of  the  two,  the  miser  is  the  least  accessible  to  convictiot^ 
apd  consequently  the  most  difficult  to  be  reclaimed  ;  but  a  turn 
for  parade  and  indulgence,  if  persisted  in,  will  gradually  lead  to 


4G2  Ofir   A  DECLINE   IN   TfiE    SriftftUAI.  tlTE^ 

aoch  compliances  with  the  spirit  and  maiims  or  the  world,  as  will 
certainly  weaken,  if  not  wholly  suppress,  the  exercise  of  vital  re- 
ligion. In  whatever  degree  the  love  of  the  world  prevails,  the 
health  of  the  soul  will  proportionabiy  decline. 

Many  other  causes  might  be  enumerated,  but  most  of  them  may 
be  reduced  to  the  heads  I  have  already  mentioned.  The  prac* 
tice  of  a  single  sin,  or  the  omission  of  a  single  doty,  if  allowed 
against  the  light  of  conscience,  and,  if  habitual,  will  be  sufficient  to 
keep  the  soul  weak,  unfruitful,  and  uncomfortable,  and  lay  k. 
open  to  the  impression  of  every  surrounding  temptation.  Some- 
times unfaithfulness  to  light  already  received,  perverts  the  judg- 
ment, and  then  errors  which  seem  to  afford  some  countenance  or 
plea  for  a  sin  which  the  heart  will  not  give  up,  are  readily  embra- 
ced, to  evade  the  remonstrances  of  conscience*  At  other  tiroes 
errors,  incautiously  admitted,  imperceptibly  weaken  the  sense  of 
duty,  and  by  degrees  spread  their  influences  over  the  whole  con- 
duct. Faith  and  a  good  conscience  are  frequently  mentioned 
together  by  the  apostle,  for  they  are  inseparable  ;  to  part  with 
one  is  to  part  with  both.  They  who  hold  the  mystery  of  faith 
in  a  pure  conscience,  shall  be  preserved  in  a  thriving  frame  of 
fpirit ;  they  shall  grow  in  grace,  go  on  from  strength  to  strenc^th, 
shall  walk  honourably  and  comfortably.  But  so  far  as  the  doc- 
trines or  the  rules  of  the  Gospel  are  neglected,  a  wasting  sickness 
will  prey  upon  the  vitals  of  religion,  a  sickness  in  its  nature  mor- 
tal, and  from  which  none  recover  but  those  on  whom  God  merci- 
fully bestows  the  grace  of  repentance  unto  life. 

The  symptoms  of  such  a  sickness  are  very  numerous  and  diver- 
sified, as  tempers  and  situations  vary.  A  few  of  those  which  are 
more  generally  apparent,  and  sure  indications  of  a  decline  in  re- 
ligion, are  the  following. 

Bodily  sickness  is  usually  attended  with  loss  of  appetite,  inac- 
tivity, and  restlessness  ;  so  the  sickness  of  the  soul  deprives  it  of 
rest  and  peace,  causes  a  dulness  and  indolence  in  the  service  of 
God,  and  an  indisposition  to  the  means  of  grace,  to  secret  waiting 
upon  God,  and  to  the  public  ordii^ances.  These  appointments,  so 
necessary  to  preserve  spiritual  health,  are  either  gradually  neg- 
lected and  given  up,  or  the  attendance  upon  them  dwindles  into  a 
mere  formal  round,  without  relish  and  without  benefit.  To  the 
healthy  man,  plain  food  is  savoury,  but  the  palate,  when  vitiated 
by  sickness,  becomes  nice  and  fastidious  and  hankers  after  varie- 
tiea  and  delicacies,  when  the  sincere  milk  of  the  Gospel^  plain 
truth,  delivered  in  plain  words,  is  no  longer  pleasing,  but  a  person 
requires  curious  speculations,  or  the  frothy  eloqoente  of  man's 
wisdom,  to  en^ge  his  attention,  it  is  a  bad  sign.  For  these  are 
suited  to  nourish,  not  the  constitution,  but  the  disease. 


ON    DRBAMINO.  ,      468 

From  sHghtiDg  or  trifling  with  those  means  which  God  has 

i provided  to  satisfy  the  soul,  the  next  step  usually  is  to  seek  re- 
ief  from  a  compliance  with  the  spirit,  customs,  and  amusements  of 
the  world*  And  these  compliances,  when  once  allowed,  will  soon 
be  defended  ;  and  they  who  cannot  approve  or  imitate  sucb  con- 
formity, will  be  represented  as  under  the  influence  of  a  narrow, 
legal,  or  phartsaical  spirit.  The  sick  professor  is  in  a  delirium, 
which  prevents  him  from  feeling  his  disease,  and  he  rather  sup- 
poses the  alteration  in  his  conduct  is  owing  to  an  increase  of  i^is- 
dom,  light,  and  liberty.  He  considers  the  time  when  he  was  more 
strict  and  circumspect,  as  a  time  of  ignorance  ;  will  smile  at  the 
recollection  of  what  he  now  deems  his  childish  scruples,  and  con- 
gratulates himself  that  he  has  happily  outgrown  them,  and  now 
finds  that  the  services  of  God  and  the  world  are  not  so  incompat- 
ible as  he  once  thought  them  to  be. 

Yet  while  he  thus  relaxes  the  rule  of  his  own  conduct,  he  is  a 
critically  severe  observer  of  the  behaviour  of  others.  He  sharp- 
ly censnres  the  miscarriages,  and  even  the  mistakes  of  ministers 
and  professors,  if  an  occasion  ofiers,  and  speaks  of  these  things, 
not  weeping,  as  the  apostle  did,  but  with  pleasure,  and  labours  to 
persuade  himself  that  the  strictness  so  much  talked  of,  is  either  a 
cloke  of  hypocrisy,  or  the  fruit  of  superstition,  and  that  because 
some  do  deviate  from  this  acknowledged  rule  of  duty,  therefore  at 
the  bottom,  and  if  they  could  be  detected,  they  would  be  found  to 
be  nearly  all  alike.  True  Christians  seldom  meet  with  more  un- 
candid  misconstruction,  or  undeserved  reproach,  than  from  those 
who  having  been  once  their  companions^ afterwards  desert  them. 
When  the  disorder  is  at  this  height,  it  is  truly  dangerous,  and, 
indeed,  as  to  any  human  help,  desperate.  But  power  belongeth 
to  God.  May  it  please  him  to  remember  in  mercy  those  who  are 
near  unto  death,  to  restore  them  to  their  right  minds,  and  to  re- 
cover them  to  himself.  Otherwise,  ^'  it  had  been  better  for  them 
not  to  have  known  the  way  of  righteousness,  than  after  they  have 
known  it,  to  turn  from  the  holy  commandment  delivered  unto 
them."  OMICRON, 


ON  DREAMING. 

DsAm  Mabam, 

1  THANK  you  for  your  obliging  letter,  and  would  be  thankful 
to  the  Lord,4hat  you  and  all  your  family  are  well. 

Surely  never  dog  dreamed  so  opportunely  and  a-propos  as 
yonr  Chloe.    I  should  be  half  angry  with  her,  if  1  believed  she 


464  ON  sasAjiuNG. 

knew  your  intentions  of  writing  upon  the  subject,  and  wilfalljT 
dropt  asleep  in  the  very  nick  of  time,  oat  of  mere  spite  to  my  by* 
pothesis,  and  purposely  to  furnish  you  with  the  most  plausible  ob- 
jection against  it.  1  admit  tlie  probability  of  Chloe  dreaming; 
nay,  I  allow  it  to  be  possible  that  she  might  dream  of  pursuing  a 
hare ;  for  thougli  I  suppose  such  an  amusement  never  entered  in- 
to the  head  of  a  dog  of  her  breed  when  awake,  yet  as  I  find  my 
own  powers  and  capacities,  when  sleeping,  much  more  enlarged 
and  diversified  than  at  other  times,  (so  that  I  can  then  fill  up  the 
characters  of  a  prime  minister,  or  a  general,  or  twenty  other  great 
offices,  with  no  small  propriety  ;  for  which,  except  when  dreainr- 
ing,  I  am  more  unfit  than  Chloe  is  to  catch  a  hare,)  her  faculties 
may  perhaps  be  equally  heightened  in  her  way,  by  foreign  assis- 
tance, as  I  conceive  my  own  to  be.  But  you  beg  the  question,  if 
yoo  determine  that  Chloe's  dreams  are  produced  by  mere  animal 
nature.  Perhaps  you  think  it  impossible  that  invisible  agents 
should  stoop  so  low  as  to  influence  the  imagination  of  a  dog.  I 
am  not  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  laws  and  ranks  of  being, 
in  that  world,  fully  to  remove  the  difficulty.  But  allow  it  possi- 
ble for  a  moment,  that  there  are  several  such  accents,  and  then  sup- 
pose that  one  of  them,  to  gratify  a  king  of  Prussia's  ambition^ 
causes  hi^i  to  dream  that  Jhe  has  over-rim  Bohemia,  desolated 
Austria,  and  laid  Vienna  in  ashes,  and  that  another  should,  on  the 
SHTOfi  night,  condescened  to  treat  Chloe  with  the  chase,  and  a  bare 
at  the  end  of  it,  do  not  yon  think  the  latter  would  be  as  well  and 
as  honourably  employed  as  the  former  ? 

But  as  I  have  not  time  to  write  a  long  letter,  I  send  you  a  book, 
in  which  you  will  find  a  scheme,  not  very  imlike  my  own,  illus- 
trated and  defended  with  much  learning  and  ingenuity.  I  hope 
the  Greek  and  Latin  quotations  will  not  discourage  you  from 
reading  \i.  Your  brother  will  tell  you  the  meaning  of  them,  if 
you  have  not  made  those  languages  a  part  of  your  acquisitions. 
1  have  some  hope  of  making  you  a  convert  to  my  sentiments  ;  for 
though  I  own  they  are  liable  to  objection,  yet  I  think  yon  most 
have  surmounted  greater  difficulties,  before  you  thought  so  far 
vourably  of  the  sympathetic  attraction^etween  the  spirits  of  dis- 
tant friends.  Perhaps  distance  may  be^ecessary  to  give  scope  to 
the  force  of  the  attraction  ;  and  therefore  to  object  that  this  sym- 
pathy is  not  perceived  between  friends  in  the  same  house,  or  in 
the  same  room,  may  be  nothing  to  the  purpose. 

I  seldom  fill  up  so  much  of  a  letter  in  a  ludicrous  way.  1  can<* 
not  call  it  a  ludicrous  subject,  for  to  me  it  appears  very  striking 
and  solemn.  The  agency  of  spirits  is  real,  though  mysterious ; 
and  were  our  eyes  open  to  perceive  it,  I  believe  we  should  hardly 
be  able  lo  attend  to  any  thing  else,  but  it  is  widely  jmd  mercifully 


OH  BBADIMO  THB   BIBLK,  465 

Hidden  from  as.  This  we  kiiow,  that  they  are  all  under  the  direc* 
tion  and  control  of  bim  who  was  cracified  for  us ;  his  name  is  a 
strong  tower,  and  nnder  the  shadow  of  his  wings  we  have  nothing 
to  fear.  I  hope  in  those  hours  when  you  find  most  liberty  with 
bim,  yon  sometimes  think  of  me  and  mine.  I  am  tac. 

OJJICRON, 


ON  READING  THE  BIBJ4E;. 

Dear  Madam, 

I  AM  further  to  thank  you  for  your  letter  of  the  23d  of  last 
month.  The  subject  of  my  former,  to  which  it  principally  relates, 
needs  no  further  prosecution,  as  you  express  yoprself  satisfied 
with  what  }  o0*ered  in  answer  to  your  question.  I  would  there^ 
fore  now  o^er  something  a  little  different.  But  the  points  of  ex*- 
perimental  religion  are  so  nearly  related,,  and  so  readily  run  into 
4Bach  other,  that  I  cannot  promise,  at  this  distance  of  time,  to 
avoid  9li  repetition.  Indeed,  the  truths  essential  to  the  peace  of 
our  souls  are  so  simple,  and  may  be  reduced  to  so  few  heads,  that 
while  each  of  them  singly  may  furnish  a  volume  drawn  out  at 
length,  tbey  may  M  be  comprised  in  a  small  compass.  Books  and 
letters  written  in  a  proper  spirit,  may,  if  the  Lord  is  pleased  to 
imile  upon  tbem,have  their  use;  but  an  awakened  mind  that  thirsts 
after  the  Saviour,  and  se^eks  wisdom  by  reading  and  praying  over 
the  Scripture,  has  litde  occasion  for  a  library  of  human  writings. 
The  Bible  is  the  fountain  from  whence  every  stream  that  deserves 
our  notice  is  drawn  ;  and  though  we  may  occasionally  pay  somo 
attention  to  the  streams,  we  have  personally  an  equal  right  with 
others  to  apply  iminediately  to  the  fountain-head,  and  draw  the 
waterof  life  for  ourselves.  The  purest  streams  are  not  wholly 
freed  from  the  gout  de  ierroir~^a  iang  ofthfi  soil  through  which 
Ihey  run  ;  a  mixture  of  human  infirmity  is  inseparable  from  the 
best  human  composition  ;  but  in  the  fountain  the  truth  is  unmixed. 

Again,  men  teach  us  by  many  words ;  aiid  if  they  would  give 
us  their  full  views  of  a  subject,  require  us  to  read  a  whole  vol- 
ume, the  life  and  substance  of  which  is  perhaps  expressed  with 
greater  force  and  greater  advantage  in  the  Scripture  by  a  single 
sentence,  which  is  rather  diluted  than  explained  by  our  feeble  ex- 
positions. A  volume  may  be  easily  written  upon  the  grace  of  hu- 
mility, and  to  show  the  evil  and  folly  of  a  self-seeking  spirit. 
But  if  the  author  should  introduce  his  subject  with  our  Saviour's 
words,  "  Even  the  Son  of  man  came  not  into  the  world  to  bB 
ministered  unto,  but  to  minister,  and  to  give  bis  Ijfe  ^  random  for 

Vol.  IV.       '  r>9  ^ 


466  0K  aiuAPXKe  the  bible. 

manv  ;^^  whoever  was  duljr  impressed  with  that  short  intiodactioi», 
would  have  no  great  occasiou  to  read  the  rest  of  the  book* 

The  preaching  of  the  gospel  being  an  instituted  means  of  grace, 
ou^ht  to  be  thankfully  and  Irequently  improved*  And  book^  that 
have  a  savour  and  unction,  may  likewise  be  helpful,  provided  we 
read  them  with  caution,  compare  them  with  Scripture ;  and  do  not 
give  ourselves  implicitly  to  the  rules  or  decisions  of  any  man  or 
set  of  men^  but  remember  that  one  h  our  Master  and  infallible 
Teacher,  even  Christ*  But  the  chief  and  grand  means  of  edifica- 
tion, without  which  all  other  helps  will  disappoint  us,  and  prove 
like  clouds  without  water,  arc  the  Bible  and  prayer,  the  word  of 
grace  and  tlie  throne  of  grace.  A  frequent  perusal  of  the  Bible 
will  give  us  an  enlarged  and  comprehensive  view  of  the  whole  of 
religion,  its  origin,  nature,  genius,  and  tendency  ;  and  pi-eserve 
us  irom  an  bver-attaclmient  to  any  system  of  man^s  compilation* 
The  fault  of  the  several  systems,  under  which,  as  under  so  many 
banners,  the  different  denominations  of  Christians  are  ranged,  is, 
that  th€tre  is  usually  something  left  out  which  ought  to  have  been 
taken  in^  and  something  admitted,  of  supposed  advantage,  not  au- 
thorized by  the  Scriptural  standard*  A  bible-christian,  therefore, 
will  see  much  to  approve  in  a  variety  of  forms  and  parties  ;  the 
providence  of  Goa  may  lead  or  fix  him  in  a  more  immediate  con- 
nexion with  some  one  of  them,  but  his  spirit  and  affection  will  not 
l^e  confined  within  these  narrow  enclosures.  He  insensibly  bor- 
rows and  unites  that  which  is  excellent  in  each,  perhaps  without 
knowing  how  far  he  agrees  with  them,  becausfe  he  finds  all  in  the 
written  word*  • 

I  know  not  a  better  rule  of  reading  the  Scripture  than  to  read  it 
through  from  beginning  to  end  ;  and  when  we  have  finished  it 
once,  to  begin  it  again.  We  shall  meet  with  many  passages  which 
we  can  malce  little  improvement  of,  but  not  so  many  in  the  second 
reading  as  in  the  first,  and  fewer  in  the  thii-d  than  in  the  second  : 
provided  we  pray  to  him  who  has  the  keys  to  open  our  under- 
standings, and  to  anoint  our  eyes  with  his  spiritual  ointment*  The 
course  of  reading  to-day  will  prepare  some  lighu  for  what  we  shall 
read  to-morrow,  and  thi-ow  a  further  light  upon  what  wc  read  yes- 
terday. Experience  only  can  prove  the  advantage  of  this  method, 
if  steadily  persevered  in.  To  make  a  few  efforts  and  then  give 
over,  is  like  making  a  few  steps  and  then  standing  still,  which 
would  do  little  towards  completmg  a  long  journey.  But  though  a 
person  walked  slowly,  and  but  a  little  way  in  a  day,  if  he  walked 
every  day,  and  with  his  face  always  in  the  same  direction,  year 
after  year,  he  might,  in  time,  encompass  the  globe.  By  thus  trav- 
ellmg  patiently  and  steadily  through  the  Scripture,  and  repeating 
our  progress,  we  should  increase  in  knowledge  to  the  end  of  life. 
A  he  Old  and  New  Testament,  the  doctrines,  precepts^  and  promi- 


PLAIN   TB9T8  OF  TRUE   DOCTRINE.  487 

ses,  the  fatstory,  the  examples,  admonitions,  and  warnings,  &<;. 
would  mutually  illustrate  and  strengthen  each  other,  and  nothing 
that  is  written  for  our'  instruction  will  be  overlooked.  Happy 
should  I  be,  could  I  fully  follow  the  advice  I  am  now  offering  to 
you  !  I  wish  you  may  profit  by  my  experience.  Alas !  how  much 
.time  have  I  lost  and  wasted,  which,  had  I  been  wise,  I  should 
have  devoted  to  reading  and  studying  the  Bible !  but  my  evil  heart 
obstructs  the  dictates  of  my  judgment.  I  often  feel  a  reluctance 
to  read  this  book  of  books,  and  a  disposition  to  hew  out  broken 
<^istems  which  afford  me  no  ^water,  while  the  fountain  of  living 
waters  are  close  within  ray  reach. 

I  am,  Madam,  yours,  &c. 

OMICRON. 


PLAIN  TESTS  OF  TRUE  DOCTRINE. 

Dear  Sir, 

I  DO  not  wonder  that  your  mind  is  unsettled  and  imeasy. 
When  you  had  derived  pcsice  and  composure  from  the  knowledge 
of  the  truth,  it  was  not  worth  your  while  to  consult  the  writers  you 
mention,  to  knoiv  what  they  could  offer  in  support  of  opinions 
which  you  were  beforehand,  upon  solid  grounds,  convinced  must 
be  ciToneous.  Unless  we  have  a  clear  and  proper  call  to  exam- 
ine such  books,  I  think  it  best  to  let  them  alone.  A  man,  who,  re« 
lying  on  the  strength  of  his  constitution,  should  tamper  with  poi- 
son, may  be  hurt  before  he  is  aware.  There  are  some  error? 
which,  for  the  subtletj  and  malignity  of  their  operation,  may  be 
compared  to  poison.  And  if  we  presume  so  far  upon  our  judg- 
ment bein^  fully  formed  and  established,  as  to  suppose  we  may 
indulge  a  needless  curiosity  of  knowing  the  mistakes  of  others, 
and  how  they  attempt  to  defend  them,  without  the  least  danger  of 
teing  entangled  or  perplexed  ourselves,  we  may  have  cause  to 
repent  of  our  nshness.  You  have  made  the  experiment,  and  suf« 
fcred  by  it.  You  have  found  there  is  something  in  your  heart 
which  you  did  not  expect  to  find  there,  and  which,  if  God  were  to 
leave  you  to  yourself,  would  render  vou,  notwithstanding  all  your 
former  apparent  stability,  capable  of  believing  a  lie. 

The  advocates  for  that  false  candour  which  is  so  much  in  vogue 
at  present,  will  recommend  to  you  a  liberal  and  impartial  examina* 
iion  of  every  sentiment  on  religion,  which  may  come  in  your  way  ; 
and  that  you  should  not  reject  any  one,  however  it  may  shock  vou 
upon  the  first  proposal,  until  you  have  heard  and  considered  all 
that  can  be  suggested  in  its  favour.  They  will  probaWy  remind 
3rou,  that  to  prove  all  things,  in  order  to  hold  fast  that  which  is 


460  VltAiar   TtSTB   OF   TRUB   |K>CTAlKfc. 

food,  is  the  direction  of  an  apostle.  But  ycm  had  already  proved, 
if  not  all  things,  yet  many,  enough  at  least,  to  give  you  a  warraot 
for  holding  that  fast  which  had  evidenced  itself  to  you,  by  its  effects, 
to  be  good.  May  I  not  a^k  you,  as  Paul  asked  the-Galatiaps, 
Where  is  the  blessedness  you  once  spoke  of?  Nay,  I  need  not 
ask  you  ;  1  well  kuotv,  and  I  appeal  to  your  ofvn  conscience,  that 
in  proportion  as  the  principles  which  formerly  made  you  happy, 
have  been  shaken  by  the  suggestions  of  your  new  teachers,  the 
blessedness  you  then  s'pokc  of  has  abated  likewise,  I  long  for 
the  honour  and  comfort  of  being  instrumental  to  your  recoil 
ery,  and  with  this  view  take  up  my  pen.  There  are  some  truths 
so  evident,  that  they  are  scarcely  capable  of  additional 
J3roof,  nor  should  we  think  it  worth  while  to  waste  a  moment 
in  confuting  the  person  who  should  deny  them.  I  am  sure,  be- 
yt)nd  a  doubt,  that  two  and  two  are  equal  to  four.  And  if  the  title 
page  of  a  large  book  informed  me  that  the  design  of  the  author 
was  to  prove  that  two  and  two  are  equal  to  seven  ;  whatever  rea* 
son  I  might  have  to  think  highly  of  the  author's  abilities,  or  to  be 
diffident  of  my  own  judgment,  I  need  not  toil  through  a  folio,  and 
carefully  weigh  every  tning  his  learning  and  ingenuity  could  sug- 
gest in  support  of  an  absurdity,  before  I  could  warrantably  con- 
tradict it. 

I  think  an  evidence^  litde  less  intuitive  than  that  by  which  we 
porceive  the  whole  to  be  greater  than'a  part,  may  be  obtained, 
with  respect  both  to  the  truth  of  the  leading  doctrines  of  the  Gos- 
pel, and  their  true  sense,  provided  their  underatanding  be  duly  en» 
lightened  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  the  heapt  be  humbly  and  honestly 
Willing  to  be  determined  by  thfe  testimony  of  Scripture.  Univer- 
sal experience  and  observation  so  perfectly  cori*espond  with  what 
the  Bible  teaches  us  concerning  the  heart  of  man,  his  present  state, 
his  weakness  and  wants,  his  anxieties  and  miseries,  with  their  pro* 
per  causes,  and  their  only  remedy  ;  that  he  Who  runs  may  read» 
if  his  judgment  be  not  perverted  by  prejudices  and  pride.  In- 
deed, if  he  idolizes  what  he  calls  his  reason,  and  resolves  to  be- 
lieve nothing  but  what  he  can  fully  comprehend  ;  if,  while  he 
Admits  a  Divine  Revelation,  he  neither  expects  nor  will  allow  it  to 
inform  him  of  any  thing  but  what  he  supposes  he  already  knows  j 
the  more  he  reasons,  the  more  he  is  likely  to  be  bewildered  in  the 
labyrinths  of  scepticism*  Yet  reason  has  its  use  and  place  in  re- 
ligious concerns  ^,  and  the  religion  of  the  New  Testament  is  a  rea* 
sonable  service.  But  the  reasoning  of  many  fjersons  reputed 
wise,  is  like  the  reasoning  of  madmen.  Their  inferences  may  be 
tightly  di-awn,  and,  therefore,  if  their  premises  were  true,  theif 
conclusions  would  be  just.  But  if  the  premises  be  false,  the  con- 
clusion must  be  so  likewise.  The  man  who  thiiiks  he  is  made  of 
glass,  and  is  therefore  afraid  of  moving  or  being  touched,  lest  he 


PLAIN  TB8TS  OF   TRUE  DOCTRINE.  4^9 

Amiid  be  broken  to  pieces,  may  be  said,  so  far,  to  reasiin  justly ; 
fi>r  if  be  really  was  made  of  glass,  his  fear  would  be  well  founded ; 
but  if  he  insists  upon  it,  in  defiance  of  all  argument  and  persua^- 
6ton,  that  he  is  i*eaily  a  glass  man,  we  no  longer  de'em  him  rational^ 
but  pronounce  him  to  be  mad.  Thus,  if  a  reasoner,  in  contradic- 
tion to  the  common  sense  of  mankind,  will. assume  the  dignity,  the 
wisdom,  the  integrity,  and  the  goodness  of  man  in  his  present 
•  fetate,  as  so  many  incontrovertible  first  principles  ;  if  he  reasons 
consistently  from  such  principles,  he  must,  of  course,  first  under' 
Value,  and  finally  discard,  the  revelation  which  he  proposes  to 
examine.  For  madness  is  in  his  beart,  and  unless  it  pleases  God 
to  bring  him  to  his  right  mind,  he  is  no  more  competent  to  judge 
of  truth,  than  a  man  born  blind  to  judge  of  colours. 

Is  it  not  highly  reasonable  to  amrm,  that  God  knows  us  bettet 
than  we  know  ourselves  ?  That  what  he  says  deserves  our  atten- 
tion ?  That  what  he  promises  must  be  worth  our  while  to  seek  in 
the  way  which  He  has  appointed  ?  Let  reason  work  fairly  upon 
these  plain  data,  and  it  will  confirm  all  that  the  Scripture  declares 
concerning  the  guilt  and  depravity  of  man,  and  of  the  method  of 
his  recovery  by  faith  in  the  blood  of  Jesus.  That  fallen  man 
needs  a  Saviour  ;  that  his  salvation  is  a  work  too  great  for  a  crea- 
ture to  accomplish  ;  that  he  cannot  be  saved  without  a  proper 
atonement  made  for  his  sin  ;  nor  unless  his  mind  be  enlightened, 
and  renewed,  by  the  powerful  agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  These 
points,  reason,  though  unable  to  discover*,  or  fully  to  comprehend^ 
can  so  far  demonstrate,  as  to  prove  the  impossibility  of  salvation 
upon  any  other  grounds,  if  the  Scriptural  representation  of  the 
character  of  God  and  the  heart  of  man  be  admitted  as  a  tnae  one* 

Yet  these  points  arc  not  only  disputed,  but  denied,  and,  by  some 
persons,  in  the  most  unqualified  terms*  The  epithets,  irrational^ 
absurd,  and  enthusiastic,  are  freely  applied  both  to  the  doctrines 
and  to  those  who  hold  them  ;  and  the  magisterial  and  decisive 
tone,  in  which  these  charges  are  made^  has  supplied  the  want  of 
solid  argument  in  their  support.  I  do  not  Wonder  that  sentiments 
so  favourable  to  the  pride  of  man,  and  which  lay  but  little  restraint 
upon  his  inclinations,  should  be  readily  adopted  by  many,  who 
are  content  to  let  others  think  for  them.  '  But  I  marvel  that  you 
are  so  soon  removed  from  the  truth  you  professed,  to  another  Gos« 
pel.  Yet  1  hope  you  are  not  removed,  though  for  the  present  un- 
settled ;  and  that  the  Lord  will.so  humble  and  instruct  you  by 
your  fall,  as  to  make  it  the  occasion  of  establishing  you  more 
firmly  than  even  1  wave  argumentation,  and  appeal  to  facts  j 
and  1  shall  confine  myself  to  the  consideration  of  a  single  point, 
because  it  is  the  central  point,  which  has  an  influence  upon  every 
other  religious  sentiment.  You  once  believed  that  Jesus,  the  Sa- 
viour of  sinners-,  ^possesses  all  the  attributes  and  perfections  of 


470         '  >tAlN  TESTS  O?  TRUE  BOCTRIVE. 

Deity,  that  he  ever  was,  ami  ever  wiB  be,  the  proper  object  of 
divine  worship ;  but  now  you  hesitate  ;  your  attention  has  been 
drawn  to  what  is  commended  to  you  as  a  more  rational  scheme. 
But  they  who  are  agreed  to  deny  the  eternal  power  and  Godhead 
of  the  Lord  Jesus,  cannot  agree  amone  themselves  who,  or  what 
He  is.  Some  peremptorily  affirm  that  he  is  a  mere  man,  like  one 
of  us ;  others  suppose  him  to  be  of  the  angelic  order,  perhaps  of 
the  highest  rank,  possibly  superior  to  them  all,  but  yet  a  creature, 
consequently  no  more  worthy  of  divine  honour  (and  in  my  view 
no  more  competent  to  the  work  of  redemption)  than  a  worm«  If 
you  read  on  both  sides,  you  will  find  that  the  Arian  and  Socinian 
writers,  abundantly  prove  that  the  sentiments  which  they  gendy 
oppose  in  each  other,  cannot  be  reconciled  either  with  Scripture^ 
or  with  plain  common  sense.  But  their  opposition  is  so  very  gen* 
tie,  their  reciprocal  candour  and  esteem  so  great,  and  their  mu- 
tual dislike  of  our  principles  so  very  sincere  and  strong,  that  it 
seems,  upon  their  plans,  to  be  of  little  importance,  what  or  how 
we  think  of  Christ,  provided  we  do  not  think  of  him  too  highly ; 
but  let  us  judge  from  what  we  see  and  feel,  and  decide  accwd- 
ingly. 

1.  The  truth  or  falsehood  of  our  religious  principles  may  not 
be  easily  discernible,  by  their  effects  in  a  time  of  nrosperity. 
The  house  built  upon  sand,  may  seem  to  stand  as  nrm  as  that 
which  is  built  upon  the  rock,  till  the  floods  and  storms  come  to  try 
them.  But  man  is  born  to  trouble,  as  the  sparks  fly  upwards. 
Admitting  that  the  schemes  which  represent  Christ  as  a  creature, 
whose  knowledge  and  power  must  of  course  be  limited,  may  seem 
to  suit  and  satisfy  those  who  are  at  ease  ;  they  afford  little  Conso- 
lation to  a  wounded  conscience,  or  even  to  a  person  suffering  un- 
der the  various  calamities  to  which  every  state  of  human  life  is  lia- 
ble, under  the  pressures  of  poverty,  severe  pain,  and  long  illness ; 
or  when  the  desire  of  our  eyes  is  taken  away  by  a  sudden  stroke  ] 
in  cases  where  the  help  of  man  is  found  to  be  utterly  in  vain,  there 
is  a  need  of  stronger  arguments  than  the  topics  of  what  some  call 
rational  religion  can  suggest,  to  inspire  peace,  maintain  hope,  and 
influence  the  mind  to  a  cheerful  and  willing  submission  to  the  will 
of  God.  Natural  fortitude,  and  cold  reasonings,  more  conforma- 
l^le  to  the  philosophy  of  the  heathens,  than  to  the  spirit  of  the 
Gospel,  may  stifle  complaints ;  but  to  rejoice  in  tribulation,  and 
in  every  thing  to  give  thanks,  are  privileges  peculiar  to  those  who 
can  joy  in  God  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  by  whom  they 
have  obtained  reconciliation.  A  cordial  belief  that  he  suffered  for 
our  sins,  that  we  are  accepted  in  him,  that  he  is  our  shepherd,  fiiU 
of  care,  compassion,  and  powers  who  knows,  the  very  thoughts 
and  feelings  of  the  heart,  and  who,  having  been  tempted  for  us,  is 
able  and  ready  to  succour  us  in  all  our  temptations :  a  persuasion 


PLAIN  tSSTS  or  TBUE  0OCTBINE*  471 

ibat  bis  wisdom  and  love  preside  over  all  our  dispetisatioiis ;  a 
liberty  of  applying  to  him  for  strength  according  to  our  day,  con- 
firmed by  a  thousand  past  proofs,  that  when  we  have  called  upon 
him,  he  has  heard,  supported,  and  delivered  us ;  a  humble  confi- 
dence, which  only  he  can  give,  that  the  heaviest  afflictions  are 
light,  and  the  longest  momentary,  compared  with  that  far  more 
exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory,  to  which  he  is  leading  us 
by  them  ;  and  that  sense  of  the  demerit  of  our  sins,  only  fully  to 
be  estimated  by  the  value  of  the  necessary  atonement,  which  will 
always  constrain  us  to  acknowledge  that  our  greatest  sufferings  are 
less  than  our  iniquities  deserve.  Considerations  of  tlits  kind 
come  home  to  our  bosoms,  are  fully  adequate  to  our  vauts,  com- 
municate a  peaoe  passing  understandiag,  and  enable  those  who 
feel  their  influence,  to  say,  "  It  is  the  L<Jrd,  let  htm  do  what  seem- 
eth  him  good;"  and  often  they  can  add,  to  the  astonishment  of 
those  who  know  not  the  power  of  their  principles.  As  the  suffer- 
ings of  Christ  (those  which  we  endure  for  his  sake  or  from  his 
hand)  abound  in  us,  so  our  consolation  also  aboundeth  by  Christ. 

2.  This  reminds  me  of  another  important  point.  If  there  be  an 
hereafter ;  if  every  one  of  us  must  give  an  account  of  himself  to 
God,  and  be  unalterably  fixed  in  a  state  of  happiness  or  misery, 
according  to  his  righteous  award,  a  thinking  person  who  professes 
to  believe  that  he  must  appear  at  the  tribunal  of  the  great,  im- 
partial, omniscient  Judge,  can  hardly  have  any  true  enjoyment  of 
his  situation  here,  but  in  proportion  as  he  is  favoured  with  a  well- 
grounded  hope,  (for  a  false  and  ill-grounded  hope,  where  sucb 
vast  consequences  are  depending,  must  be  an  awful  delusion  in- 
deed,) that  it  will  be  well  with  him  when  be  shall  go  hence  and  be 
DO  more  seen.  Certainty  upon  this  head,  or  the  nearest  possible 
approaches  to  certainty^  must  surely  be  highly  desirable.  Let 
OS  inquire  which  scheme  bids^airest  to  afford  this  satisfaction.  If 
well-grounded,  it  must  be  built  opon  truth,  and  consequently  it 
cannot  be  stronger  than  the  conviction  we  have,  that  tlie  princi- 
pl'es  are  true  upon  which  we  build. 

An  ingenious  writer*  of  the  present  day,  though  he  thinks  the  So* 
dnian  doctrine  '^  not  only  renders  theScripture  uNfNTELLiGiBLE, 
but  Christianity  itself  incrbdiblb,"  is  pleased,  notwithstandino:,  te 
give  it  a  marked  preference  to  what  he  styles  the  Athauasian  or  Cal- 
vioistic  scheme,  which,  he  says, "  I  reject  with  strong  conviction.'' 
But  in  the  same  page,  in  the  very  next  preceding  period,  he  frankly 
acknowledges,  '*  I  can,  in  this  instance,  as  in  most  others,  with  much 
more  confidence  say  what  is  mot,  than  what  is  the  truth."f  It  may 
perhaps  be  justly  questioned  whether  a  man  who  declares  himself 

*  Pfice.  t  Sewaon's  lately  printed,  p.  158, 1 93. 


473  rhAtm  TSSTS  OV  T»U£  DOCtBlKK. 

uncertain  what  is  the  truths  can  be  competently  qualified  to  decide 
with  confidencey  what  is  not  the  truth.  He  elsewhere  says  to  the 
«aine  purpose,  '^  Indeed,  I  aeldom  feel  much  of  that  satisfactioo 
which  some  derive  from  being  sure  they  have  found  out  truth." 
In  another  publication,  he  gives  the  following  account  of  his  stiH 
dies,  and  the  result  of  his  inquiries  :  '*  In  early  life,  I  was  struck 
with  Bishop  Butler's  Analogy  of  Religion,  natural  and  revealed, 
to  the  constitution  and  course  of  nature.  I  reckon  it  happy  for 
me,  that  this  book  was  one  of  the  first  that  fell  into  my  hands^ 
it  taught  me  the  proper  mode  of  reasoning  on  moral  and  religioat 
subjects,  and  particularly  the  importance  of  paying  a  due  regard 
to  the  iropeifection  of  human  knowledge.  His  sermons  also,  I 
thought,  and  do  still  think,  excellent.  Next  to  his  works,  I  have 
alwftys  been  an  admirer  of  the  works  of  Dr.  Clarke.  And  I  cannot 
help  adding,  though  it  may  seem  strange,  that  I  likewise  owe  much 
to  the  philosophical  writings  of  Mr.  Hume,  which  I  likewise  stu- 
died in  early  life.  Though  an  enemy  to  his  scepticism,  I  have  pro^ 
filed  by  it.  By  attacking,  with  great  ability,  every  principle  of 
truth  and  reason,  he  taught  me  to  examine  the  ground  on  which  I 
stood,  a^id  not  hastily  to  take  any  thing  for  granted.  And  now, 
ill  the  evening  of  a  life  devoted  to  inquiries,  and  spent  in  endeav- 
ours (weak  and  feeble  indeed)  to  serve  the  best  interests,  present 
and  future,  of  mankind  ;  I  am  waiting  for  the  great  Teacher,  con^ 
vinced  that  the  order  of  nature  is  perfect,  that  infinite  wisdom  and 
goodness  governs  all  things,  and  that  Christianity  comes  from 
Ood^  but  at  the  same  time,  puzzled  by  many  diiBcolties,  anxious 
for  mor^  light,  and  resting  with  full  and  constant  assurance  only 
on  this  one  truth,  That  the  practice  of  virtue  is  the  dnty  and  digni- 
ty of  man,'aud,  in  all  events,  his  wisest  and  safest  course.''^ 

I  admire  the  ingeniousness  of  these  confessions  ;  and  I  compas- 
sionate a  state  of  mind  which,  though  seldom  acknowledged  with 
jthe  same  honesty,  I  believe  to  foe  far  from  uncommon.  It  is  in* 
deed  lamentable,  if  persons  of  respectable  characters  and  abilities^ 
should  devote  no  small  part  of  their  time  and  attention  to  tbestu(^ 
pf  the  Scriptures,  the  professed  design  of  which  is  to  make  us  wise 
unto  salvation,  and  yet  have  no  hope  of  being  satisfied  in  the  most 
fumdamental  points  of  religioo,  till  death  shall  remove  them  to  a 
s^ate  which  will  exclude  all  possibility  of  doubt.  For  though 
death  be  a  great  teacher  indeed,  it  must  be  iincomfortable  to  re^ 
main  in  suspense,  and  under  a  possibility  of  being  mistaken  in 
matters  essential  to  our  peace,  till  the  discovery  of  our  mistake 
(if  it  should  prove  so)  will  come  too  late  to  admit  of  redress.  Oh 
that  we  may  be  persuaded  in  time,  earnestly  to  implore  the  assif^t- 

*  Matty's  Revio\r  for  Derrmber,  1784;  page  4$T. 


nuH  Tcsts  or  true  i>octrike.  47S 

ance  of  that  sdll  greater  Teacher,  who  has  promised  bis  gracioas 
help  to  all  who  humbly  seek  it !  But  if  we  set  him  aside,  and  ra$b« 
]y  prefer  the  guidance  of  our  own  boasted  reasoD,  in  points  be* 
yofid  the  line  of  its  comprehension,  the  most  laborious  researches 
will  issue  in  uncertainty.     Surely  in  the  be^nning  it  was  not  so. 
Our  Lord's  promise  to  his  disciples  was, "  Ye  shall  know  the  truth, 
and  the  truth  shall  make  you  free.     If  any  man  will, do  my  will) 
he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine  whether  it  be  of  God."     And  these 
promises  were  abundantly  faifilled  to  the  first  Christians.     Not  to 
insist  on  the  strong  testimony  of  Peter,  ^'  We  believe,  add  are 
sure,  that  Thou  art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God  f  the 
apostles  frequently  declare,  that  their  aim  and  intention,  both  ia 
preaching  and  writing,  was  to  make  others  equally  sure  with 
themselves;  *'  These  things  we  write  unto  you,  that  ye  may  have 
fellowship  with  us ;  that  ye  may  know  that  ye  have  eternal  Kfe, 
and  that  ye  may  believe  in  the  name  of  the  Son  of  God.''     ft 
Was  not  the  exclusive  privilege  of  Paul,  as  an  apostle,  to  know 
whom  he  had  believed,  and  to  be  persuaded  that  he  was  able  to 
keep  that  which  he  bad  committed  to  him.     The  Gospel  came  to 
others  likewise,  not  in  word  only,  but  also  in  power,  and  in  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  in  much  assurance ;  they  had  joy  and  peace  ip 
believing;  they  rejoiced  with  joy  unspeakable  and  fuI)of  glory ; 
they  took  joyfully  the  spoiling  of  their  goods,  knowing  in  them- 
selves that  they  had  in  heaven  a  better  and  more  enduring  sub^ 
stance ;  for,  after  they  believed,  they  were  sealed  with  the  Holy 
Spirit  of  promise,  and  because  they  were  sons,  God  bad  "  sent 
forth  the  Spirit  of  his  Son  into  their  hearts,  whereby  they  could 
call  him  '<  Abba,  Father."     These  are  Scriptural  expressions) 
and  but  a  very  small  part  of  what  might  be  adduced  to  confirm, 
were  it  needful,  the  assertion  of  St.  John,  "  He  that  believeth  o% 
the  Son  of  God,  hath  the  witness  in  himself."     How  different  is 
this  strain  from  that  of  the  writer  1  have  quoted  above  !  Shall  we 
.say,  then,  that  the  everlasting  gospel  has  lost  its  evidence^  or  its 
-efficacy,  in  the  course  of  seventeen  hundred  years  ?    That  it 
could  once  inspire  those  who  embraced  it  with  a  full  assurance  of 
hope ;  but,  at  this  distance  of  time  it  leaves  inquirers  pussled  with 
difficulties,  and  still  more  anxious  for  light  f  Rather,  we  mu8| 
•maintain,  that  the  same  Gospel  still  produces  the" same  ejects.    If 
Christ  died,  rose  from  the  dead,  and  entered  into  glory,  only  to 
assfire  us  "  thut  the  practice  of  virtue  is  the  duty  and  digmty  of 
man,  and  at  all  events  his  safest  and  wisest  course,"  I  may  ven- 
ture to  say,  that  he  died  and  rose  in  vain.     Surely,   his  gra- 
cious interposition  does  not  make  it  more  evident  to  us,  than  it 
was  to  the  heathens,  that  nothing  but  the  practice  of  virtue  is  ne- 
cessary for  a  sinner.     And  I  am  quite  at  a  loss  to  know  what  the 
Vol.  IV.  60 


474  PLAIN  TisTS  or  true  pocTRme. 

writer  means  by  virtue,  when  1  find  a  bold  attempt  to  set  aside  th« 
authority  of  Moses  and  Paul,  complimented  by  him  as  "  a  mag- 
nanimous openness.^'^  Methinks  a  magnanimity  of  this  kind  can 
be  no  branch  of  that  virtue  which  is  the  duty  and  dignity  of  man* 

Ask  death^beds,  my  friends,  they  will  speak ;  I  know,  indeed, 
that  many  persons  die  as  they  lived,  careless  and  insensible,  no 
more  impressed  by  the  thoughts  of  an  eternal  state,  than  the  beasts 
of  the  field ;  and  I  know  that  others,  lest  by-standers  should  sus- 
pect them  of  fear,  or  question  the  validity  of  their  infidel  princinles 
to  support  them,  have  affected  to  jest  m  their  last  hours,  ana  to 
meet  death  with  a  facetiousness  utterly  unbecoming  a  wise  man. 
'  For  it  is  a  serious  thing  to  die ;  and  the  dignified  composure  of  a 
true  Christian  difiers  so  much  from  the  levity  of  a  bunoon,  as  the 
sober  conduct  of  a  man  difiers  from  the  mimickry  and  grimace  of 
a  monkey.  I  have  known  persons,  not  in  the  lowest  class  for  that 
wisdom  and  virtue  which  is  taught  in  the  schools  of  scepticism, 
tremble  like  the  boughs  of  a  tree  in  a  storm,  when  the  approach 
of  death  has  excited  an  awful  sensibility  in  their  conscience,  re- 
called to  their  remembrance  a  view  of  their  past  lives,  and  opened 
to  their  mind  a  prospect  (till  then  unregarded)  of  what  was  before 
them.  I  have  had  the  comfort  of  seeing  many  others  very  difier- 
cntly  afiected  in  dying  circumstances,  i  have  seen  enough  to  con- 
v'mce  me,  if  the  testimony  of  the  word  of  God  needed  any  confir- 
mation, that  the  true  wisdom  of  Man  is  most  conspicuous  (if  he  re- 
tains his  senses)  when  he  is  about  to  leave  this  world ;  and  that 
his  duty,  dignity,  and  happiness,  are  displayed  to  the  highest  ad- 
vantage, when,  like  Stephen,  he  is  enabled  to  commit  his  depart- 
ing spirit  into  the  hands  of  Jesus,  and  to  venture  his  Eternal  All 
upon  his  fiaithfulness  and  ability  to  save,  to  the  uttermost,  those 
who,  renouncing  every  other  ground  of  hope,  confide  entirely  in 
his  mediation.  I  have  seen  them  in  this  situation,  in  the  exercise 
of  a  good  conscience,  possessed  of  a  solid,  unshaken  peace,  and 
at  a  loss  for  words  to  express  their  joys,  yet  humbly  sensible  of 
their  unworthiness,  and  the  defects  and  defilements  of  their  best 
services.  1  have  heard  them  reeret,  that  their  regard  to  him,  and 
their  dependence  upon  him,  had  been  so  faint  and  so  feeble;  but  I 
never  heard  one  regret  that  he  had  honoured  him  too  highly,  or 
placed  too  much  confidence  in  his  authority  and  power. 

3.  Another  test  of  the  truth  and  goodness  of  doctrines,  which 
will  approve  itself,  to  a  careful  and  candid  observer,  without  the 
assistance  of  critical  learning,  or  laboured  arguments,  is  their  ct>m- 
parative  efficacy  or  insufficiency,  to  reclaim  men  from  wickedness, 
to  inspire  them  with  the  fear  and  love  of  God,  and  to  produce  a 
habit  of  integrity  and  benevolence  towards  our  fellow-creatures. 
If  I  hear  that  a  minister,  who  preaches  Christ  as  the  wisdom  and 

*  Appendix  to  the  Sermans,  p.  394. 


PLMM    TESTS  OF    TRUE    DOCTRINE.  475 

power  of  God  to  salvatioQ,  and  who  is  animated  with  that  zeal  fo)r 
the  giory  of  God,  and  the  good  of  souls,  of  which  they  who  truly 
believe  in  the  eternal  power  and  Godhead  of  the  Saviour,  and  the 
value  of  his  atonement,  cannot  be  wholly  destitute ;  I  say,  if  I 
hear  that  such  a  one  is  about  to  be  fixed  in  a  place  where  igno- 
rance and  immorality  generally  prevail,  I  always  take  it  for  grant- 
ed that  the  effects  of  his  ministry  will  soon  be  more  or  less  visible; 
that  the  Lord's  day  will  be  better  observed,  the  place  of  worship 
more  frequented ;  that  there  will  be  some  instances,  at  least,  of 
profligates  becoming  sober,  of  careless  sinners  excited  to  a  con- 
cern for  their  souls,  and  that  some  pei'sons  who  had  long  lived 
without  God  in  the  world,  will  begin  to  worship  him  in  their  fami- 
lies. I  know  that  in  such  cases  there  will  be  pretenders  found, 
like  tares  among  the  wheat;  but  1  always  expect  there  will  like- 
wise be  such  instances  of  real  reformation,  both  as  to  religion  and 
to  moral  conduct,  as  shall  put  gainsayers  to  shame  and  to  silence, 
aod  satisfy  candid  and  attentive  inquirers,  that  a  change  so  benefi- 
cial to  incfividuals,  to  families,  and  .to  the  community,  was  the  effect 
of  the  doctrines  delivered  to  them,  and  with  which  they  were  be- 
fore unacquainted.  The  very  different  effects  of  that  preaching 
which  represents  Christ  as  a  creature,  and  s'ets  aside  the  necessity 
of  his  atonement,  I  have  often  had  the  occasion  of  observing,  when 
introduced  amonest  a  people  who  have  before  been  favoured  with 
what  I  deem,  and  assuredly  know,  to  be  the  true  Gospel.  In  pro- 
portion as  it  has  been  received,  a  regular  attendance  upon  public 
ordinances,  a  care  to  maintain  family. worship,  a  spiritual  frame  of 
conversation  and  conduct,  have  gradually  declined.  Where  mor- 
al essays  are  substituted  for  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  where  men 
are  taught  to  seek  their  resources  in  their  own  power,  and  to  con- 
sider themselves  as  already  wise  and  good,  the  preacher  may  per- 
haps please  the  ear,  but  he  will  seldom  affect  or  mend  the  heart. 
In  our  days  it  may  be  truly  said,  "  Virtus  laudatur  ct  alget.''  Fine 
encomiums  upon  the  beauty  of  virtue  abound ;  but  Christian  vir- 
tue, the  love  of  God,  and  of  m^n  for  his  sake,  is  only  to  be  attain- 
ed by  faith  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  and  the  word  of  his  testi- 
mony. 

Since,  therefore,  the  principles  you  once  embraced  are  best 
suited  to  comfort  you  under  affliction,  to  give  you  a  solid  ground 
of  hope  in  life  and  in  death,  and  evidently  found  to  be  the  most 
efficacious  to  promote  the  fear  of  God,  and  the  good  of  society  ;  I 
hope  you  will  in  future  beware  of  the  sophistry  of  those  teachers 
who  would  deprive  you  of  your  gold,  and  can  only  give  you  coun- 
ters in  exchange.  I  commend  you  to  that  good  Shepherd,  whe 
can  pity  and  restore  his  wandering  sheep ; 

And  remain  affectionately  yours, 

OMICRON. 


4f6  TO   HISS   ****   ON   HER   BIRTH-DAY* 

TO  MISS  *»*»  ****,  ON  HER  BIRTH-DAY 

1. 

With  sweet  song,  the  lark  and  thrush, 
On  the  day  when  you  were  born, 

From  the  dew-bespangled  bush, 
Welcom'd  in  the  nappy  morn. 

Still,  with  each  returning  Spring, 

As  the  day  returns  they  sing. 


What  a  cheering  soft  perfume, 

Wafted  on  the  air,  proceeds 
From  the  hedges  drest  in  bloom, 

And  the  gay,  enameiPd  meads^ 
While  the  sun,  with  penciPd  beams, 
Gilds  the  hills,  the  trees,  the  streams ! 

3. 

Yet,  before  another  year, 

(Pleasures  are  short-liv'd  below,) 
Frowning  winter  will  be  here,. 

Rob'd  in  clouds,  and  storms,  and  snow  ^ 
All  these  beauties  then  will  fade, 
All  look  blasted,  cold,  and  dead. 

4. 

Spring  an  emblem  is  of  youth, 

Wasting  on  to  withering  age ; 
Oh  that  this  important  truth 

Might  each  youthful  heart  engage ! 
Ev'ry  pulse,  and  ev'ry  breath, 
Nearer  brings  our  winter,  Death. 

You,  I  trust,  delight  to  think 

On  the  change  which  many  dread ; 
Here  you  taste,  but  there  shall  drink 

Pleasures  at  the  fountain  head. 
Has  not  Jesus,  by  his  love,      -    ' 
Taught  your  heart  to  soar  above  I 


TO  MISS   ***♦  ON  HER   BIRTH-DAT.  477 

6. 

Endless  spring  will  there  prevail, 

There  the  flow'rs  unfading  grow ; 
Solid  joys  that  never  fail, 

How  unlike  to  all  below !  ^ 

Grief  and  sin  will  then  be  o'er, 
And  6ur  sun  go  down  no  more. 


You  may  well  record  your  birth, 
Born  to  such  a  glorious  bliss ; 

All  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth 

Are  but  toys  comparM  with  this. 

'Tis  not  worth  the  while  to  live 

For  such  joys  as  earth  can  give. 


Saviour !  till  her  life  shall  end, 

Guide  her  steps,  and  cheer  her  heart ! 

Be  her  shepherd,  husband,  friend, 
Dail v  grace  and  peace  impart ; 

May  her  bnght  example  show 

What  a  Sanour^s  lave  can  doi 

OMICRON. 


EXTRACTED  FROM 


•    EVANGELICAL  MAGAZINE. 


•THOUGHTS  ON  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  HOLY  TRINTIT. 

I  BELIEVE  that  there  are  beings  superior  to  us,  at  least  in  our 
present  state,  whom  we  call  angels.  But  what  I  can  collect  from 
the  Scriptures  concerning  their  nature  and  powers,  is  very  indis- 
tinct. I  never  saw  an  angel,  and  therefore  am  at  a  loss  how  to 
conceive  of  him.  How  poor,  then,  must  be  my  conceptions  of  the 
great  God !  The  revelation  he  has  given  of  himself  in  his  Word^ 
IS  undoubtedly  fully  adequate  to  the  state  and  wants  of  mankind ; 
but  it  can  be  rightly  understood  so  far  only  as  it  is  accompanied 
by  the  further  revelation  of  his  Holy  Spirit.  And  as  the  knowl- 
edge of  believers  is  progressive,  lilce  the  light  which  advances 
from  dawn  to  day,  I  hardly  expect  that  any  human  form  of  words 
can  equally  and  exactly  express  the  apprehensions,  even  of  ail 
who  are  truly  taught  of  God.  A  child  may  repeat  such  a  form  no 
less  accurately  than  a  man,  but  he  will  seldom  annex  the  same 
ideas  to  what  he  says.  There  are  likewise  children,  yea,  babes 
in  grace.  All  may  be  equally  orthodox,  but  I  think  they  cannot  all 
be  equally  enlightened* 

For  myself,  though  Hrust  the  views  I  have  received  exempt  me 
from  the  charee  of  worshipping  I  know  not  what,  1  am  sensible  I 
have  not  *' already  attained.^'  My  conceptions  are  weak  and 
iaint ;  and  such  as  they  arc,  I  know  not  how  to  express  them  to 
others  to  my  own  satisfaction*  I  dare  not  indulge  speculations 
upon  this  high  subject ;  and  when  I  speak  of  it,  I  wish  to  speak 
with  reverence  and  caution,  lest  I  should  daiken  counsel  by  words 
without  knowledge. 

The  principal  effects  attributed  to  faith  are,  that  it  purifies  die 
heart,  works  by  love,  and  overcomes  the  world.  I  think  that  no 
other  cause  can  produce  these  effects.  Therefore,  when  I  per- 
ceive these  signs  of  faith,  I  am  ready  to  take  it  for  granted  that  the 
principled  of  the  persons  who  exhibit  them  are  right ;  though  they 
may,  and  I  suppose  thev  do,  perceive  them  more  or  less  explicitly, 
according  to  the  will  of  Him  who  worketh  all  in  all,  or  to  the  dif- 
ferent stages  of  their  standing  or  experience  in  the  divine  life.  To 
Judgp  otherwise,  appears  to  me  as  unreasonable  as  to  expect  that 


THOUGHTS   ON   THE   DOCTRINE,  &C,  4^9 

several  persons  viewing  the  same  tower  from  different  distances, 
should  all  perceive  it  precisely  under  the  same  angle. 

I  believe  there  is  a  God.  That  God  is  one,  I  am  assured  not 
only  by  Scripture,  but  even  by  reason.  I  see  enough  around  me, 
to  be  convinced  that  he  is  the  Creator,  Preserver,  and  Governor 
of  all  things.  1  see  the  traccs^nd  impressions  of  his  wisdom,  pow- 
er, and  goodness,  wherever  I  turn  my  eyes.  But  the  solitary  idea 
of  God,  absolutely  considered,  would  bring  no  comfort  to  my  heart. 
Too  long,  while  I  said  there  was  a  God,  I  lived  without  him  in  the 
world ;  and  I  should  have  always  lived  so,  had  pot  my  eyes  been 
in  some  degree  opened,  to  see  him  by  the  li^ht  of  his  Scripture. 
TTterCy  besides  strong  declarations  of  the  unity  of  the  Goahead, 
and  repeated  warnings  against  idolatry,  I  meet  with  the  terms, 
Father,  Son,  or  Word,  (of  God,)  and  Holy  Spirit.  Whether  men 
style  tktse^  persons,  subsistences,  or  by  any  other  name,  1  find  as- 
cribed to  each  those  attributes  which  I  judge  incommunicable  to 
creatures,  as  much  so  to  those  of  the  highest  order,  as  to  worms  or 
oysters;  such  as  omnipresence,  omniscience,  and  omnipotence. 
Therefore,  whether  I  attempt  to  think  of  Father,  or  Son,  or  Holy 
Spirit,  I  think  of  God,  and  yet  I  am  sure  there  can  be  but  one 
God. 

I  read  in  the  GoJ;pel  of  St.  John,  that  the  Word  was  God,  that 
all  things  were  made,  or  created  by  him  in  the  beginning.  This, 
therefore,  is  a  fundamental  article  of  my  faith.  I  am  told,  by  the 
same  authority,  that  the  Word  was  with  God.  I  conceive  that 
this  clause,  likewise,  has  its  determinate  mearp ng.  It  teaches  me 
to  attend  to  the  above  distinction ;  but  1  think  it  does  not  require 
roe  either  to  comprehend  or  to  explain  it.  I  observe  a  distribution 
pointed  out  in  the  economy  of  redemption ;  that  the  purpose  h 
more  peculiarly  ascribed  to  the  Father,  the  accompliskment  to  the 
Son,  and  the  application  to  the  Holy  Ghost.  But  as  these  offices 
and  engagements  can  only  be  sus.tained  or  fulfilled  by  the  perfec- 
tions of  Deity ;  and  as  God  is  essentially  and  immutably  one,  I 
hope  that  whether  I  bow  my  knees  to  the  God  and  Father  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  whether  I  pray  to  the  Saviour  himself,  or  im- 
plore the  Holy  Spirit  for  his  gracious  light  and  influence,  I  still 
worship  the  same  one  God. 

I  sometimes  hear  of  Sabellians,  but  I  know  not  well  who  they 
are.  I  have  been  told  the  Moravians,  or  United  Brethren,  are 
Stibellians ;  what  they  once  were,  I  cannot  say ;  I  judge  of  them 
at  present  by  their  late  publication,  entitled,  in  Latin,  Idea  Fidei^ 
in  English,  an  Exposition  of  Doctrine.  If  the  word  Sabellian  im- 
ports any  thing  unscriptutal  or  dangerous,  1  hope,  for  my  own 
sake,  (according  to  this  book,)  they  do  not  desei-ve  to  be  branded 
with  it.  For  I  am  free  to  confess,  that  of  all  the  systems  of  divin- 
ity I  am  acquainted  with,  none  seems,  in  the  aain,  to  accord  more 


4dO  TBPUGBTS   09f    Tl»  POCTRXITK  OP 

with  my  sentiments,  and  particularly  in  what  relates  to  the  Tiiaity, 
than  the  Brethren's  Exposition  of  Doctrine. 

But  1  apprehend  that  some  good  men,  though  not  in  their  judg- 
ment and  experience,  yet  in  their  more  general  manner  of  expres* 
sion,  seem  to  border  upon  another  extreme,  for  though  they  pro- 
fess to  believe,  and  1  doubt  not,  cordially  do  believe,  the  deity  of 
the  Saviour,  they  do  not  seem  to  speak  of  him  with  that  freedom, 
freauency,  and  fervency,  of  whicii  the  apostle  Paul  has  given  ua 
sucn  a  pattern  in  his  writings.  I  have  heard  excellent  sermons, 
evidently  upon  Gospel  principles,  and  well  adapted  to  general  ed- 
iiication,  in  which  I  could  perceive  but  one  defect,  (and  I  must 
think'it  a  defect,)  that  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ  the  Lord  has  hard- 
ly been  mentioned,  but  only  the  word  God^  which  has,  perhaps, 
been  so  often  repeated,  as  to  sound  in  ray  ears  almost  like  an  ex- 
pletive. On  the  other  hand,  I  have  known  some  ministers  sus- 
pected of  Sabellianism,  for  often  addressing  their  prayers,  directly 
and  immediately,  to  the  Lord  Jesus. 

For  my  own  part,  if  the  one  be  three,  and  the  three  one,  as  I 
believe,  1  am  not  afraid  that  there  is  a  jealousy  in  the  Godhead, 
lest  one  person  should  be  overrated,  or  too  much  admired  and 
adored,  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  others.  Rather,  I  read,  it  is 
the  will  of  the  Father  that  all  men  should  honour  the  Son,  even  as 
they  honour  the  Father.  I  endeavour  to  honour  the  Father  by 
prayer,  by  praise,  by  entrusting  and  surrendering  my  all  to  him  5 
by  obedience,  and  proclaiming  the  glory  of  his  character.  The 
same  honour  I  owe,  and  endeavour  to  pay,  to  the  Son,  and,  by 
parity  of  reason,  to  the  Holy  Spirit. 

If  the  Lord  Jesus  be  verily,  and  indeed  God  over  all,  blessed 
for  ever,  how  can  I  possibly  think  or  speak  of  him  too  highly ;  or 
pray  to  him,  or  praise  him  too  often  ?  The  question,  how  far,  and 
when,  we  may  warrantably  pray  to  him,  seems  to  me  the  same  as 
to  ask,  how  far,  and  when,  we  may  warrantably  pray  to  God  ? 

I  think  the  glory  and  grace  of  God  can  only  be  duly  perceived, 
at  least  by  us  sinners,  in  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ.  His  medita- 
tion, though  it  derives  its  efficacy  from  bis  divine  nature,  is  perfor- 
med in  the  human.  With  regard  to  this  office,  I  consider  him  as 
the  way  lo  God,  the  mercy-seat,  the  throne  of  grace.  But  I  con- 
sider his  human  nature,  likewise,  as  the  temple  in  which  the  ful> 
ness  of  God  substantially  dwells.  In  prayer,  as  I  am  differently 
led,  I  come  to  God  by  Christ,  or  I  come  to  God  in  Christ.  In  both 
I  think  1  have  scriptural  precepts,  promises,  and  precedents  for  my 
warrant. 

Bishop  Bonner  ignorantly  charged  Philpot  that  he  was  like  the 
ancient  heretics  mentioned  by  Pliny.  These  heretics  were  tlie 
primitive  Christians;  and  Pliny  tells  us  that  they  assembled  to- 
gether, to  worship  Christ  as  God.  May  such  heresy  ever  be  my 
privilege,  and  my  glory ! 


TBS   HMiT  TRINITY.  481 

i  have  observed,  that  io  revivals  of  religion,  the  word  Lord  has 
generally  become  more  in  use  and  repute  than  at  other  times. 
I  admire  this  word.  We  have  none  that  can  better  answer  the 
Hebrew  word  Jehovah,  and  it  is  likewise  the  peculiar  name  by 
which  the  apostles  speak  of  the  Redeemer.  He  is  Lord  of  all. 
Yet  the  Father  and  the  Holy  Spirit  are  frequently  spokea  of  by 
the  same  title. 

Dr.  Owen,  in  his  Christiologia,  states,  that  the  more  general 
object  of  prayers  in  the  New  Testament  is  the  God  and  Father 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  But  he  afterwards  points  out  some 
especial  seasons  in  a  believer's  experience,  in  which,  he  thinks,  it 
may  be  helpfiil  to  faith,  to  address  prayer  more  immediately  and 
directly  to  the  Saviour.  Perhaps  many  of  the  Lord's  people  feel 
themselves  always*  in  one  or  other  of  those  situations  which  the 
Doctor  deems  peculitir  and  occasional.  But  he  has  omitted  one 
case,  which  I  think  well  worthy  of  mention.  I  think  the  Lord 
Christ  is  he  with  whom  we,  who  have  the  honour  to  be  ministers  of 
the  Gospel,  more  especially  have  to  do.  Is  he  not  the  head  of  the 
church  i  Do  we  not  hope  that  we  have  received  our  designa- 
tion from  him  i  Is  it  not  his  flock  we  are  engaged  to  feed  f  To 
whom  should  we,  like  the  Apostle,  report  our  discouragements,  or 
success,  what  we  have  taught,  and  what  we  have  done  i  On 
whom  are  we  to  depend  that  his  grace  may  be  sufficient  for  us,  to 
enable  us  for  service,  or  to  support  us  under  temptations  i  What 
is  the  grand,  the  inexhaustible  subject  of  our  ministry  i  Whoia 
are  we  to  preach  ?  Christ,  and  him  crucified  !  Christ  Jesus  the 
Lord !  from  whom,  as  the  great  and  righteous  Judge,  we  hope  to 
receive  the  crown  of  life,  which  he  has  promised  to  all  who  love 
bis  appearance. 

I  grieve  to  think  how  often  I  have  amused  myself  and  my  hear- 
ers  (I  fear  it  has  been  little  more)  with  making  grave  remarks  upon 
sin  or  holiness,  which,  though  I  hope, true  in  themselves,  and  impor- 
tant in  their  proper  places,  have,  by  the  length  of  my  proofs,  rea- 
sopings,  and  illustrations,  tendod  to  hide  the  Saviour  from  our 
view.  I  have  since  compared  this  mistake  to  that  of  a  painter, 
who,  in  a  historical  piece  should  omit  the  principal  figure,  i 
have  thought  it  like  an  attempt  to  point  out  the  most  striking 
parts  of  an  extensive  prospect  at  midnight.  In  future,  I  wish, 
when  I  preach,  (if  I  may  so  speak,)  to  keep  the  sun  in  view  above 
the  horizon.  Then  I  may  hope  that  He  will  be  seen  by  his  own 
light,  and  will  likewise  diffuse  k  light  upon  every  part  of  my  sub* 
ject. 

That  there  is  an  injudicious,  improper  way  of  preaching  Christ, 
and  dwelling  and  chiming  upon  the  name  of  Jesus,  as  though  the 
sound  of  it  could  work  like  a  charm,  I  readily  admit.    But  I  be^ 
Vol.  IV,  61 


▲   LKTTEH   TO   A   YOUNG   WOMAN. 

lieve  tbe  most  judicious  preacher,  irfaithful,  if  warmly  conscious  of 
the  Saviour's  just  right  to  appear  glorious  in  every  eye,  and 
precious  to  every  heart,  will  not  escape  censure,  from  fastidious, 
superficial,  and  incompetent  hearers.  They  will  allow  us  to  speak 
of  God  in  general  terms,  but  they  will  not  be  pleased  with  hearin^^ 
too  much  of  Christ.  His  name  is  of  small  value  with  the  careless, 
and  those  who  are  at  ease ;  it  is  designed  for  tbe  relief  of  the 
weak,  the  wounded,  tbe  helpless,  and  tbe  miserable ;  and  they 
who  truly  know  him,  and  have  experienced  his  saving  power, 
will  be  ready  to  speak  of  his  name  (if  they  could  speak  Latin)  in 
the  words  of  Austin,  that  it  is  "  Mel  in  ore,  melos  in  aure,  medi* 
cina  in  corded." 

To  draw  to  a  close : — If  the  Lord  shall  be  pleased  to  give  roe 
clearer  and  deeper  views  of  this  point  than  I  have  as  yet  attained, 
I  believe  it  must  be  not  by  investigation  dh  my  part,  but  by  a 
manifestation  on  his  part.  I  cannot,  by  searching,  find  out  God. 
Nor  am  I  ambitious  of  that  moon-light  knowledge,  which  chiefly 
qiialifies  for  framing  distinctions,  and  weighing  words  and  phrases. 
The  only  knowledge  1  think  worth  praying  for,  is  thai  which, 
while  it  enlightens,  exhilarates,  animates,  and  sanctifies  the  heart : 
such  as  tbe  good  woman  had,  who  told  her  persecutors,  when 
they  would  have  disputed  with  her,  "  I  cannot  talk  for  Chris^ 
but  I  can  burn  for  him." 

I  conclude  with  my  sincere  and  earnest  prayers  for  myself  and 
my  readers,  in  the  words  of  the  apostle,  *^  That  Christ  may 
dwell  in  our  hearts  by  faith ;  that  we,  being  rooted  and  grounded 
in  love,  may  be  able  to  comprebaid,  with  all  saints,  what  is  the 
breadth,  and  length,  jand  depth,  and  height,  and  to  know  the  love 
of  Christ,  wJiich  passeth  knowledge,  that  we  may  be  filled  with 
all  the  fulness  of  God !"  OMICRON. 


A  EE'FrEB  TO  A  YOUNG  WOMAN. 

My  Deak  Miss       ■■, 

I  THANK  you  for  your  letter,  and  for  your  kind  sympathy 
with  me ;  but  I  am  not  much  to  be  pitied.  My  trial,  if  I  may 
caH  it  one,  has  been  very  light,  and  sweetened  with  innumerable 
comforts  and  mercies.  I  fell  in  the  street,  not  ddwo  stairs  ;  bnt  I 
strained  my  instep  a  good  deal,  qM  was  confined  to  the  sofa  for 
near  a  fortnight.  Last  Sunday  I  was  enabled  to  mount  the  pul- 
pit, and  I  am  now  returning  into  the  old  track  ;  but  I  cannot 
yet  walk  in  the  street,  b^ause  I  cannot  wear  roy  own  shoe.  I 
trfift,  in  the  Lord's  good  time,  I  shall  recover  my  ibrmer  liberty  r 


A  UStTEB  TO   A   TOCKP  W011AI7.  4Q3 

knd  till  liis  time  comes,  which  is  always  the  best,  I  hope  I  shall 
not  desire  it.  1  felt  little  paio,  except  for  about  halfati  hoar  after 
my  fall.  Perhaps  my  confinemeDt  may  have  kept  me  from  some 
greater  harm. 

The  text  of  my  first  sermon  on  my  return  to  church  was  sug- 
gested by  my  own  case :  John,  v.  14.  Methinks  it  is  applicable 
to  you  likewise.  You  have  been  sick,  nigh  unto  death,  but  the 
^Lord  has  raised  you  up ;  may  be  enable  you  to  consider  sin  as 
the  source  and  cause  of  every  sorrow  ;  and  that  the  alffiiclions  the 
Lord  sends,  however  trying  to  the  flesh,  are  light,  compared  with 
what  sin  deserves  ;  and  designed,  if  rightly  improved,  to  pre- 
vent still  worse  things  which  may  come  upon  us,  if  we  despise  the 
chastening  of  the  Lord.  It  is  my  heart's  desire  for  you,  that  you 
may  not  only  say  with  gratitude.  He  hath  healed  all  my  sick- 
nesses, but  he  able  to  add.  He  has  pardoned  all  my  sin. 

An  accomplished  and  well-behaved  young  woman  is  an  amia- 
ble object  in  the  sight  of  her  fellow-creatures.  She  may  be  sen- 
sible and  obUgiiig  ;  she  may  dress  and  dance  genteelly  ;  she  may 
play  well  upon  the  harpsichord ;  she  may  have  much  finer  work 
to  show  than  the  coats  and  garments  which  Dorcas  made  ;  and, 
by  her  vivacity  and  good  humour,  she  may  become  the  idol  of 
all  her  acquaintance  :  but  if  she  does  not  know  her  state  as  a 
sinner ;  if  she  admires  herself,  and  is  pleased  with  the  admira- 
tion of  others,  while  her  heart  is  cold  to  the  love  and  glory  of 
God  our  Saviour ;  if  she  has  no  taste  for  prayer  or  praise  ;  if  he* 
mind  is  engrossed  by  the  pleasures  and  prospects  of  this  poor 
world :  she  is  dead  while  she  liveth.  In  the  sight  of  God,  her 
Maker,  she  is  insensible  and  angrateful;  she  is  poor,  blind,  and 
miserable. 

When  you  were  a  child  I  could  observe  in  you,  not  only  the 
iqprightliness  common  to  children,  but  indications  of  sense  and 
mental  powers  above  the  common  standard.  Could  I  see  you 
now,  I  think  I  should  see  you  greatly  improved.  Your  person,  I 
suppose,  is  formed,  your  education  finished,  and  your  powers  ex- 
panded. Happy  you,  if  with  these  advantagesyou  should  be  led  « 
to  devote  yourself  to  the  Lord  in  early  life.  Then  he  will  guide 
and  bless  you,  and  make  you  a  blessing  in  all  your  connexions. 
Yon  will  live  honourably  and  useA;illy,  and  die,  whether  sooner 
or  later,  comfortably.  You  will  have  a  double  relish  for  every 
temporal  comfort,  because  yon  wiH  see  his  hand  providing  and 
bestowing  it ;  and  in  times  of  trouble,  which  you  will  surely  meet 
with,  you  will  have  a  refuge  a  hiding-place,  a  present  and  eflect* 
ual  helper,  when  the  help  of  man  would  be  utterly  in  vain. 

But  unless  you  enter  the  narrow  way  by  the  strait  gate,  all  your 
talents  and  at^omplisbments  m\\  he  snares  to  your  fee^and 


484  UEMOIttS   OF   TttS   REf.   E*  ElC^JiliTOlTir. 

thorns  in  your  eyet^.  Tlioagh  tbe  world,  at  first,  may  a|i|iear 
like  a  beautiful  palace,  or  a  pleasant  garden,  it  is  enchant- 
ed ground,  it  is  all  illusion  ;  and  when,  at  last,  the  charm  is 
broken,  you  v^ill  find  yourself  in  a  desolate  wilderness.  May  the 
Lord  preserve  you  from  those  awful  disappointooeots,  and  bitter 
reflections,  which  are  the  inevitable  conseqoences  of  liTiti^  with- 
out God  in  the  world ! 

Shall  I  advise  you  to  change  your  own  heart,  to  make  your- 
self (what  you  must  be  if  ever  you  are  a  Christian  indeed)  a  new 
creature  f  This  would  be  no  less  vain,  than  if  I  advised  yoo  to 
fly  in  the  air,  or  to  touch  the  stars  wiifa  your  finger.  Yet  there 
is  something  within  the  reach  of  your  ability,  and  which,  if  yon 
neglect,  the  fault  will  be  properly  your  own.  This  is,  the  use  of 
what  we  call  the  means  of  grace.  The  promise  of  God  has  con- 
nected the  appointed  means  and  the  promised  end,  so  certainly 
that  no  one,  who  carefully  attends  to  the  former,  can  possibly 
fail  of  attaining  the  latter :  and  no  one,  to  whom  the  Lord's  word 
of  salvation  is  sent,  shall  finally  miss  of  happiness,  unless  the  ap- 
pointed means  of  attaining  it  are  wilfully  neglected.  You  can 
read  ;  the  Bible  is  in  your  hands ;  read  it,  therefore,  attentively  ; 
by  jt  God  speaks  to  you,  and  he  deserves  to  be  beard.  Your 
heart  tells  you,  that  he  ought  to  be  worshipped.  Let  this  coo^ 
viction  engage  you  to  pray,  and  especially  pray  for  the  teaching 
of  his  Holy  Spirit,  to  enlighten  your  mind  to  see  and  nnderstanri 
the  great  things  of  his  Word.  Reverence  his  sabbaths,  and  |Mib- 
lie  worship.  Where  two  or  three  are  met  in  his  name,  he  has  said, 
I  am  in  the  midst  of  them.  Prize  the  preaching  of  tbe  Gospel 
when  you  can  have  it,  for,  ordinarily,  faith  cometh  by  hearing. 
If  you  persevere  in  this  way,  you  shall  find  that  he  is  able  and  will- 
ing to  do  that  for  you  which  you  cannot  possibly  do  for  yourself. 

I  commend  you  to  the  care  and  blessing  of  the  Lord.  1  hoyie 
yoa  will  always  believe  me  to  be 

Your  afiectionate  friend. 

J.  NEWTON. 


MEMORABLE  CIRCUMSTANCES  IN  THfi  MFE  OF  !«£  LATE 
MR.  RICGALTOUN. 

To  the  Editor  of  the  Evangelical  Magazine, 

Sir, 

SoMB  months  ago  1  met  with   the  words  of  Robert  RiceaN 
toun,  late  minister  of  Hobkirk,  in  Scotland.     I  ^m  not  in  tbe  hab* 


ll£|ieUl&  OF   THS  &SV.   B.   RICCALTOUN.  486 

it  of  recoinaMidiiig  books.  Some  sentiments  of  this  author  ap<- 
peared  to  me  rather  singular ;  but  his  originality,  genius,  and 
force  as  a  writer,  engaged  my  attention.  And  though  I  do  not 
think  myself  bound  to  plead  for  every  thing  be  has  advanced,  I 
readily  acknowledge  myself  a  debtor  to  him,  as  an  instrument,  for 
a  more  enlarged  view  of  some  truths,  which  have  been  long  dear 
to  my  heart. 

I  found,  upon  inquiry,  that  it  was  a  posthumous  publication, 
«ud,  though  printed  long  since,  (the  last  volume  in  the  year  1772,) 
there  were  few  persons  within  the  circle  of  my  acquaintance  who 
bad  either  seen  it  or  heard  of  it.  A  considerable  part  of  the  edi- 
tion remained  unsold,  and  almost  forgotten;  and  I  was  told  that 
the  editor,  the  Rev.  John  Riccaltoun,  the  author's  son,  and  suc- 
cessor in  the  charge  of  the  parish  of  Hobkirk,  was  a  considera-  , 
ble  loser  by  the  impression. 

A  friend  of  mine  in  Edinburgh,  wrote  to  Mr.  Riccaltoun,  at  my 
instance,  requesting  some  information  concerning  his  father,  who, 
I  judged  from  bis  writings,  must  have  been  a  very  considerable 
man.  My  friend  transcribed  a  copy  of  the  letter  he  received  froin 
Mr.  Riccaltoun.  If  you  think  proper  to  insert  the  annexed  ab* 
stract  of  the  most  interesting  particulars  of  this  account  in  your 
Magazine,  it  is  at  your  serviee.  Perhaps  it  may  not  be  unaccept- 
able to  some  of  your  readers. 

Mr.  Robert  Riccaltoun  was  born  (I  am  not  told  where)  in  the 
year  1691.  Some  indications  of  the  genius  which  he  afterwards 
displayed,  appeared  in  early  life.  He  could  read  the  Bible  dis- 
tinctly before  be  was  five  years  of  age.  His  father,  who  was  a 
sobstaatial  tenant,  probably  bad  a  design  of  educating  this  his 
only  son,  with  a  view  to  the  ministry.  He  was  placed  in  the 
grammar  school  at  Jedburgh,  where  he  made  a  rapid  progress  in 
learning.  He  could  write  and  speak  in  Latin  with  the  same  ease 
and  readiness  as  in  English.  From  thence  be  was  removed  to 
Edinburgh,  attended  the  university,  and  became  a  proficient  in 
all  the  varioos  branches  of  literature.  About  the  time  he  had 
finished  his  course  in  the  college,  bis  father  died,  and  left  him  in 
the  possession  of  a  very  good  farm.  He  then  seemed  resolved  to 
follow  the  farming  business,  and  therefore  did  not  attend  the  Di- 
vinity Hall.  However,  be  studied  the  Holy  Scriptures  with  great 
diligence,  before  he  attained  the  age  of  twenty,  and  formed  to 
himself  a  system  of  what  he  called  Bible  Divinity,  from  which  be 
never  departed  through  life,  though  he  doubtless  acquired  clearer 
and  more  distinct  views  as  be  advanced  in  years  :  and  he  became 
so  possessed  of  his  system  of  biblical  knowledge,  that  he  could, 
without  difficulty,  preach  a  lecture  upon  any  portion  of  Scripture, 


J 


486  MEMOIRS  or  the  rev.  r.  riccaltouk* 

without  premodttation,  when  he  was  afterwards  called  to  it  in  th^ 

Course  of  divine  Providence. 

The  Presbytery  of  Kelso,  in  whose  bounds  be  resided,  bad  such 
a  high  opinion  of  his  abilities,  and  of  his  knowledge  in  divinity, 
that  they,  in  a  manner,  forced  him  upon  trials*  They  wrote  Us 
circular  letters  without  bis  consent,  and  at  length  prevailed  on  him 
to  comply  with  their  wishes.     In  a  year  or  two  after  he  became  a 

Sfreacher,  (when  about  the  age  of  twenty-four,)  he  published  what 
e  called.  The  Sober  Inquiry ^  which  had  the  good  effect  of  putting 
an  end  to  a  dispute,  warmly  carried  on  for  a  considerable  time^ 
between  two  parties  of  the  most  eminent  men  in  the  church  of 
Scotland. 

He  was  much  esteemed  by  many  of  his  contemporary  ministers. 
My  information  particularly  mentions  four  by  name,  as  his  in- 
mateft  ;  the  late  Alexander  Calder,  of  Oxman  ;  Thomas  Boston, 
of  Etterich  ;  Henry  Davidson,  of  Gallasheils  ;  and  Gabriel  Wil- 
son, of  Maxton. 

In  the  life  of  Mr.  Thomson,  (author  of  the  Seasons,)  there  is  an 
acknowledgment  of  his  obligations  to  Mr.  Riceattoun,  who  wa^ 
himself  likewise  a  poet.  And  his  son's  letter  informs  me,  that 
some  of  his  father's  poems  were  published  under  Mr.  Thomson's 
name.  He  mentions  one  piece  of  his  in  particular,  entitled,  The 
Description  of  a  Winter  Blast,  upon  which  Mr.  Thomson  founded 
his  Winter. 

Mr.  Riccaltoun  met  with  one  great  trial,  which  brought  him  into 
very  straitened  circumstances  through  the  remainder  of  his  day$. 
But  he  did  not  regret  it.  His  son  has  often  heard  him  say,  that  it 
was  the  very  best  dispensation  that  could  have  befallen  him  ;  as 
he  thought,  that  if  he  had  not  been  so  borne  down,  his  spirit  might 
have  been  very  haughty  and  overbearing. 

A  Mr.  H ,  a  preacher,  and  a  farmer,  who  married  Mr. 

Riccaltoun's  wife's  sister,  had  borrowed  laree  sums  of  money  from 
different  persons,  and  persuaded  Mr.  Riccaltoun  that  he  had  suffi- 
cient funds  to  pay  off  all  his  debts,  provided  he  could  get  in  his 
•wn  money  ;  and  assigned  some  plausible  reasons  why  he  could 
not  call  it  in  for  some  time.  It  is  not  difficult  to  deceive  a  young 
man,  unpractised  in  the  world,  and  who  possesses  an  upright  mind, 
and  a  warm,  benevolent  heart.  Thus  he  was  drawn  in  to  bind 
himself  for  a  large  sum;  expecting,  as  he  was  promised,  to  be  soon 
released.  But  not  long  after,  Mr.  H.  obtained  a  church  in  Shet- 
land, and  then  it  appeared  that  he  had  no  money  to  call  in.  Of 
eourse  the  creditors  came  upon  Mr.  Riccaltoun  ;  and  at  once  tore 
from  him  every  penny  that  his  father  had  left  him,  to  the  amount 
of  above  800Z. ;  nor  did  that  suffice  to  clear  him.  He  was  some 
years  assistant  to  Mr.  Deans,  of  Bowden,  before  he  was  settled  at 
Hobkirk,  and  still  harrassed  with  the  payment  of  Mr.  H's  debts. 


MEHOIRS   OF   THE   REV.   R.    RICCALTOUN'.  467 

After  living  15  or  16  years  at  Hobkirk,  he  was  involved  in  new 
distress,  by  opposing  the  settlement  of  a  minister,  patrooized  and 
presented  by  a  nobleman,  contrary  to  the  inclinations  of  the  par- 
ish. He  thought  the  people's  cause  a  just  one  ;  and  therefoi-e 
saw  it  his  duty  to  support  them  with  all  the  strength  of  argument 
he  was  able.  But  he  suffered  severely  for  it.  Mr.  H.  had  been 
the  nobleman's  tenant,  and  one  of  the  sums  for  which  Mr,  Riccal- 
toun  was  bound,  was  for  the  arrears  of  his  rent.  This  bond  was 
brought  against  him,  for  principal  and  interest,  to  the  amount  of 
3002.  and  he  would  certainly  have  been  thrown  into  prison,  if  a 
friend  had  not  advanced  the  money  ;  for  the.  payment  of  which  he 
assigned  one  half  of  his  stipend,  yearly.  But  be  was  obliged  to 
contract  debts  for  the  support  of  his  family. 

1  sympathize  with  his  son,  while  I  transcribe  the  period  which 
concludes  this  relation  :  ^'  At  my  father's  death,  as  I  was  bound 
with  him  to  many  of  his  creditors,  I  became  liable  to  bis  debts, 
which  has  kept  me  under  water  ever  since.  But  the  cause  was 
good,  and  I  have  struggled  cheerfully.  But  now  I  almost  des- 
pair of  being  clear,  (though  it  is  brought  within  1002.)  as  I  have 
seven  children  to  maintain  and  educate,  which,  with  the  most  fro- 
gal  management,  will  exhaust  the  whole  of  my  stipend." 

Perhaps  this  little  history  may  engage  the  notice  of  some  per- 
sons, able  and  willing  to  assist  him.  f  shall  be  sorry  if  a  deserv- 
ingson  of  such  a  father  does  not  obtiain  relief  in'his  exigency. 

They  who  are  competent  judges  of  the  late  Mr.  Riccaltoun's 
writings,  will  perhaps  wonder,  as  I  do,  that  a  man  so  circumstanced 
for  a  course  of  many  years,  shouM  be  able  to  write  with  that  ap- 
parent composure,  and  peculiar  energy  of  thought  and  manner, 
which  seem  to  require  a  state  of  mind  and  situation  perfectly  at 
ease.  But  the  paper  before  me  affirms,  that  none  of  bis  most  inti- 
mate friends  ever  heard  him  repine.  The  whole  of  bis  conduct 
manifested  a  serenity  of  spirit,  and  an  habitual  cheerful  resignation 
to  the  will  of  God  : — a  striking  proof  of  the  faithfulness  of  Him^. 
who  has  said,  As  thy  day  is,  so  shall  thy  strength  be  ! 

He  was  a  very  studious  man,  and  when  thinking  closelyupon 
any  subject,  or  even  if  writing,  the  various  conversation  of  others 
in  the  same  room  gave  him  no  disturbance.  Yet  he  was  a  very 
cheerfuL  agreeable  companion,  and  always  happy  in  company, 
where  trie  conversation  was  instructive  and  sensible.  He  was 
•specially  pleased  with  the  company  of  young  people  ;  and  they 
who  had  access  to  know  him,  were  so  warmly  attached  to  him, 
that  even  reproof,  when  necessary,  was  thankfully  received  when 
it  came  fi*om  him.  And  few  men  made  greater  allowances  tpr  the 
foibles  of  youth,  than  he.  He  was  an  affectionate  h^band  and 
pareRt,  a  warm  and  sincere  friend^ 


488  OS   FKMALE   DRESS. 

He  was  taken  suddenly  ill,  during  divine  service,  in  the  forenoon 
of  a  Lord's  day,  and  desired  a  young  man,  who  was  frccjuently 
with  him,  to  preach  for  him  in  the  afternoon.  His  complaint  ter* 
minated  in  a  total  suppression  of  urine.  He  continued  in  exquis- 
itc  pain  till  about  the  middle  of  the  week ;  from  that  time  he  seem- 
ed to  be  quite  at  case  ;  but  as  he  never  spoke  after,  the  cause  of 
the  transition  from  so' much  pain  to  sudden  ease  remained  un- 
known. He  breathed  strong  and  full  through  his  nose,  for  the  last 
three  days  of  his  life,  without  once  opening  his  lips.  But  his  coun- 
tenance discovered  an  animated  serenity,  which  was  much  noticed 
by  those  who  saw  him.  He  breathed  his  last,  witiiout  the  smal- 
lest convulsive  motions,  on  the  evening  of  the  following  Lord's 
day,  in  the  latter  end  of  September,  1769,  in  the  78th  year  of  his 

The  controversy,  which,  it  seems,  subsided  when  his  Sober  In- 
quiry appeared,  was  occasioned  by  the  publication  of  a  book,  en- 
titled, The  Marrow  of  Modern  Divinity.  I  have  not  seen  his  So- 
ber Inquiry  ;  but  1  have  in  my  possession  his  answers  to  Mr.  San- 
diman,  who  had  animadverted  upon  Mr.  Harvey's  Theron  and 
Aspasio,  in  two  volumes,  12mo.  under  the  signature  of  Palemon. 

My  paper  contradicts  a  report,  that  the  late  Rev.  Mr.  Walker, 
of  Edinburgh,  had  made  many  alterations  in  the  third  volume  of 
Mr.  Riccaltoun's  worksj  (containing  Notes  and  Observations  on 
the  epistle  to  the  Gaiatians,)  and  declares  that  Mr.  Walker  neither 
made,  nor  proposed  any  alterations  5  but  only  corrected  the  proof 
sheets.  I  am,  Sir,  yours, 

OMICRON. 

Jan.  31,  1795. 


ON  FEIVULE  DREBS. 

Women  who  profess  godliness,  and  who  have  the  care  of  young 
persons  of  their  own  sex,  are  perhaps  in  no  point  more  blameable, 
than  in  the  example  which  some  of  them  set,  and  the  liberty  which 
perhaps  a, neater  number  allow,  of  undue  conformity  to  the  world, 
rh  the  article  of  dress.  Few  ministers  touch  upon  thi«  subject  in 
their  public  discourses  ;  and  indeed  it  is  not  very  easy  to  treat  it 
with  propriety  from  the  pulpit.  Yet  whatever  is  unsuitable  to  the 
Christian  profession,  an  inlet  to  temptation,  and  productive  of  evil 
consequences,  should,  in  some  way  or  other,  be  noticed  by  those 
who  have  the  honour  of  the  Gospel,  and  the  welfareof  their  fellow- 
creatures  at  heart.  I  make  no  further  apology  for  offering  a  few 
hints,  which  I  hope  will  not  give  offence,  and  which  I  pray,  so  far 


ON   FEMALE  011SSS.  489 

«s  they  are  agreeable  to  the  Holy  Scripture,  and  confirmed  by  ex- 
perience and  observation,  may  be  attended  to. 

I  doubt  not  but  many  parents  who  desire  to  see  their  children 
brought  up  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord,  give  them 
many  excellent  lessons  in  the  nursery.  They  endeavour  to  im- 
Jlress  their  tender  minds  with  a  sense  of  their  sinful  state  by  na- 
ture, of  the  evil  of  pride,  and  of  the  vanity  of  the  world.  But 
when  their  children  begin  to  appear  in  public  view,  for  want  of 
due  reflection,  or  resolution,  or  both,  they  either  encourage,  or  at 
least  permit  them,  to  fonvi  habits  which  have  a  direct  tendency  to 
counteract  all  the  benefits  which  might  otherwise  be  hoped  for 
from  the  instruction  of  their  early  years, 

I  am  certainly  no  connoisseur  in  the  article  of  dress  ;  but  I 
know  how  I  am  affected  by  what  I  see :  and  I  can  hear  what 
other  people  say.  The  simplex  mundiiiis  of  Horace,  which  may 
be  translated,  an  urutffected  neatness,  according  to  different  situa- 
tions in  life,  seems  a  tolerable  definition  of  a  becoming  dress. 

But  Christian  women  should  aim  to  comply  with  the  apostle's 
advice,  to  adorn  themsdves  in  modest  apparel,  with  shamefaced- 
ness  and  sobriety.  When  he  adds,  "  Not  with  gold,  or  pearly,  or 
costly  array,''  I  do  not  think  it  necessary  to  take  this  restriction 
60  rigidly,  as  to  affirm,  that  such  ornaments  are,  universally  and 
without  exception,  unlawful.  I  think  this  is  one  of  the  many  ex- 
pressions in  Scripture  which  are  to  be  understood  in  a  compara- 
tive sense.  Thus,  when  our  Lord  declares,  "  That  unless  a  man 
hate  parents,  wife,  children,  and  his  own  life,  he  cannot  be  my 
disciple  ;"  we  are  sure  he  does  not  contradict,  what  by  his  au- 
thority is  expressly  enjoined  in  many  other  passages,  that  we 
should  pay  a  due  regard  to  our  relations,  and  take  a  proper  care 
of  ourselves.  He  only  teaches  us,  that  whenever  our  dearest 
temporal  concernments  stand  in  competition  with  what  we  owe  to 
Him,  they  must  be  given  up  and  renounced. 

The  providence  of  God  nas  made  an  evident  distinction  of  rank 
and  subordination  in  civil  life.  There  is  a  long  gradation  from  the 
highest  state  of  those  whom  we  call  the  rich,  to  the  lowest  state  of 
the  honest  and  industrious  poor.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  sogie  of 
his  own  dear  people  may  be  found  in  all  these  different  condition^. 
And  I  see  no  impropriety  in  paying  some  regard  to  them  in  dress. 
At  present,  however,  through  the  dissipation  and  extravagance  of 
the  times,  the  proper  distinction  is  almost  wholly  lost,  and  it  i$ 
often  not  easy  to  distinguish  (except  perhaps  in  the  article  of  Jew- 
els) between  a  countess  and  a  milliner. 

If  clothes  are  considered  merely  as  a  covering  for  the  body, 
and  a  defence  from  the  cold,  it  will  be  difficult  to  draw  the  line, 
and  to  determine  exactly  between  what  is  necessary  and  what  is 
superfluous.    I  think  some  women  may  asr  lawfully  woar  satins 

Vol.  IV.  S2 


490  ON    FEMALE   DRESS. 

and  pearls,  as  oihcrs  may  wear  stufis  and  glass  beads ;  and  it  is 
more  for  the  honour  of  the  Gospel,  that  a  woman  professing  godli- 
ness should  be  distinguished  from  others,  by  modesty,  sobriety, 
and  good  works,  than  by  the  shape  of  her  cap,  or  the  colour  of 
her  garment. 

Yet  even  to  ladies  of  the  greatest  affluence,  who  love  and  fear 
the  Lord,  I  will  venture  to  suggest  a  word  of  caution.  To  you  I 
say  nothing  of  the  expense  ;  you  can,  as  the  phrase  is,  very  well 
aflord  it.  And  if  in  other  respects  you  are  generous  and  bountiful, 
ready  to  distribute,  and  willing  to  communicate^  the  cost  of  what 
you  choose  to  wear  is  of  no  great  consideration.  But  a  nice  at- 
tention to  dress  will  cost  you  much  of  what  is  more  valuable  than 
money — your  precious  time.  It  will  too  much  occupy  your 
thoughts,  and  tnat  at  the  seasons  when  you  would  wish  to  have 
them  otherwise  engaged.  And  it  certainly  administers  fuel  to  that 
latent  fire  of  pride  and  vanity,  which  is  inseparable  from  our  fal- 
len nature,  and  is  easily  blown  up  into  a  blaze.  I  hope  you  will 
not  be  among  the  first  of  those  wno  are  eager  to  catch  at,  and  give 
sanction  to  every  new  mode  ;  nor  is  it  necessary,  if  the  mode  be 
decent  and  general,  that  you  should  be  the  very  last  to  adopt  it. 
But  something  there  should  be  in  your  exterior,  to  indicate,  that 
though  you  do  not  affect  a  needless  and  scornful  singularity, 
(which  IS  often  the  source  of  censoriousness  and  envy,)  yet  your 
heart  is  not  set  upon  these  little  things.  If  a  woman,  when  going 
to  public  worship,  looks  in  the  glass,  and  contemplates,  with  a 
secret  self-complacence,  the  figure  which  it  reflects  to  her  view,  I 
am  afraid  she  is  not  in  the  frame  of  spirit  most  suitable  for  one 
who  is  about  to  cry  for  mercy  as  a  miserable  sinner. 

There  are  likewise  women,  who,  we  would  hope,  are  pious, 
and  therefore,  of  course,  benevolent.  But  an  attachment  to  dress, 
and  a  desire  to  approach,  as  near  as  they  can,  to  the  standard  of 
those  who  are  their  superiors  in  fortune,  blunt  their  compassionate 
feelings,  and  deprive  them  of  the  usefulness,  comfort,  and  honour 
they  might  otherwise  attain.     The  expense  of  their  dress  is  so 

Sreat,  compared  with  the  sraallness  of  their  income,  that  when 
ley  have  decorated  themselves  to  their  mind,  they  have  little  or 
nothing  to  spare  for  the  relief  of  the  poor.  I  doubt  not,  but  they 
tak:e  it  for  granted,  that,  upon  the  stipposition  that  our  Lord  and 
Saviour  was  again  upon  earth  in  a  state  of  poverty  and  humilia- 
tion, as  when  he  walked  in  the  streets  of  Jerusalem,  and  they  knew 
that  he  wanted  a  gannent,  when  they  were  about  to  spend  their 
spare  money  in  some  useless  piece  of  finery,  they  would  gladly 
forego  their  purpose  for  the  honour  of  assisting  him.  But  the 
heart  is  deceitful.  If  we  live  in  the  neglect  of  present  duty,  we 
have  no  right  to  suppose  we  should  act  letter  in  different  circum- 
stances.    He  has  said, "  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  to  the  least  of  these 


ON  PBMALE  DRBSS.  491 

my  brethren,  ye  did  it  unto  me.^'  And  if  we  are  inattentive  to  the 
wants  of  those  whom  he  appoints  to  be  his  representatives,  we 
cannot  be  sure  that  we  should  be  properly  attentive  to  himself,  if 
he  was  with  us  in  person,  and  in  a  low,  obscure  condition. 

But  I  am  not  so  much  hurt  by  observing  the  materials,  as  by 
the  manner  of  female  dress  ;  by  what  we  call  the  fashion,  and  the 
eagerness  with  which  every  changing  fashion,  however  improper, 
is  adopted  by  persons  whose  religious  profession  might  lead  us  to 
hope  they  had  no  leisure  to  attend  to  such  trifles.  If  some  allow* 
ance  is  to  be  made  for  youth  on  this  head,  it  is  painful  to  see  mo- 
thers, and  possibly  sometimes  grandmothers,  who  seem,  by  the 
gaudiness  and  levity  of  their  attire,  very  unwilling  to  be  sensible 
that  they  are  growing  older. 

It  may  be  a  sufficient  censure  of  some  fashions,  to  say  they  are 
ridiculous.  Their  chief  effect  is  to  disfigure  the  female  form. 
And  perhaps  the  inventors  of  them  had  no  worse  design,  than  to 
make  a  trial,  how  far  they  could  lead  the  passive,  unthinking  ma* 
ny  in  the  path  of  absurdity.  Some  fashions,  which  seem  to  have 
been  at  first  designed  to  hide  a  personal  deformity,  have  obtained 
a  general  prevalence  with  those  who  had  no  such  deformity  to 
hide.  We  are  informed,  that  Alexander  had  a  wry  neck,  and 
therefore  his  courtiers  carried  their  heads  on  one  side,  that  they 
might  appear  to  be  in  the  king's  fashion.  We  smile  at  this  ser* 
vility,  in  people  who  lived  in  Macedonia  twenty  centuries  before 
we  were  born  ;  yet  it  is  little  less  general  among  ourselves  in  the 
present  day. 

Other  fashions  were  doubtless  contrived  by  persons  who,  having 
not  yet  attained  to  glory  in  their  shame,  were  desirous  of  conceal- 
ing it  as  much,  and  as  long,  as  possible.  Yet  these,  likewise,  are 
no  less  eagerly  adopted.  If  I  did  not  consider  tne  tyranny  of 
(ashion,  my  compassionate*  feelings  would  often  be  excited  for 
women  who  I  should  suppose  were  married,  if  I  did  not  ob- 
serve the  wedding  finger  destitute  of  a  ring.  These  improprie- 
ties are  not  simply  ridiculous.  They  are  serious  evils,  in  a  reli- 
gious view  ;  anc^  to  speak  of  them  in  the  gentlest  terms,  they  are 
signs  of  a  careless,  inconsiderate  spirit,  very  unsuitable  to  a  pro- 
fessed regard  to  the  Gospel.  We  are  required  to  attend  to  the 
|hinqs  that  are  lovely  and  of  good  report.  Every  wilful  devia- 
•  tion  from  this  rule  is  sinful.  Why  should  a  godly  woman,  or  one 
who  wishes  to  be  thought  so,  make  herself  ridiculous,  or  hazard 
a  suspicion  of  her  character,  to  please  and  imitate  an  ungodly 
world  ? 

But  the  worst  of  all  the  fashions  are  those  which  are  evidently 
calculated  to  allure  the  eyes,  and  to  draw  the  attention  of  our  sex. 
Is  it  not  strange  that  modest  and  even  pious  women,  sboqld  be 


493  dn  SBLioxous  feasting. 

sedaced  into  a  compliance  even  with  these  ?  Yet  I  have  somettufes^ 
been  in  company  with  ladies  of  whose  modesty  1  have  no  doubt, 
and  of  whose  piety  I  entertain  a  good  hope,  when  I  have  been  em- 
barrassed and  at  a  loss  which  way  to  look.  They  are  indeed,  no- 
ticed by  the  men,  but  not  to  their  honour  or  advantage.  The 
manner  of  their  dress  gives  encouragement  to  vile  and  insidious 
men,  and  exposes  them  to  dangerous  temptations.  This  inconsid- 
erate levity  has  oAen  proved  the  first  step  into  the  road  that  leads 
to  misery  and  ruin.  They  are  pleased  with  the  flattery  of  the 
worthless,  and  go  on  without  thought,  *'  as  a  bird  hastens  to  the 
snare,  and  knoweth  not  that  it  is  for  its  life."  But  honest  and  sen- 
sible men  regard  their  exterior  as  a  warning  signal,  not  to  choose 
a  companion  for  life  from  among  persons  of  this  light  and  volatile 
turn  of  mind. 

How  far  does  the  richest  dress  which  studious  vanity  can  pro* 
cure  from  the  spoils  of  birds,  beasts,  and  insects,  fall  short  of  the 
delicate  texture,  and  elegance,  and  the  beautiful  tints,  which  we 
admire  in  a  flower  or  a  butterfly  !  "  Even  Solomon,  in  all  his 
glory,  was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these !"  The  resemblance  is 
chiefly  in  the  frailty  of  the  wearer.  Soon,  and  perhaps  sudden- 
ly, the  body,  now  adorned  with  so  much  nicety  and  care,  must  be 
deposited  in  the  vault  or  grave,  and  be  food  for  worms. 

An  attention  to  ornament  and  dress  is  peculiarly  unseasonable 
at  present.  The  dark  aspect  of  the  times  rather  requires  a  spirit 
of  humiliation  and  abasement.  The  judgments  of  God  are  abroad, 
his  hand  is  lifted  up.  We  know  not  what  is  before  us,  but  we 
have  reason  to  fear  awful  tokens  of  his  displeasure  for  our  nation- 
al sins.  Perhaps  the  day  is  coming  when  the  words  of  the  pro- 
phet, *'  Tremble,  ye  women  that  are  at  ease,  be  afflicted  ye  care- 
less ones,^'  nAy  be  no  less  applicable  to  us,  than  they  were  to 
the  Israelites  of  old.  I  earnestly  request  my  fair  readers  careful- 
ly to  peruse  the  latter  part  of  the  third  chapter  of  tlie  prophecy  of 
Isaiah,  from  the  sixteenth  verse  to  the  end.  OMICRON. 


ON  RELIGIOUS  FEASTING. 

Whether^  therefore^  ye  eat  or  drinkj  or  whatsoever  ye  dbj  do  all  to  ' 
the  glory  of  God.     1  Cor.  x.  31. 

A  SINNER,  considered  as  such,  is  not  only  destitute  and  incapa- 
ble of  spiritual  blessings,  but  has  forfeited  all  right  to  the  com- 
forts, and  even  the  necessaries  of  the  present  life.  It  is  of  mere 
mercy  that  he  is  permitted  to  breathe  the  air,  or  walk  upon  the 


ON  &BIJIII0U5  nAsrnte,  493 

groaod.-^BQt  Jesus,  the  Saviour,  has  not  only  broogbc  life  and 
immortality  to  light,  and  opened  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  to  all 
who  believe  in  his  name ;  but  he  has  removed,  in  their  Xavour,  the 
curse  which  sin  had  entailed  upon  the  lower  creation.  'And  now, 
to  them,  every  creature  of  God  is  good,  and  nothing  to  pe  refus- 
ed, if  raceived  with  thankfulness  and  moderation  ;  for  aU  is  sanc- 
tified to  their  use  by  the  word  of  God  in  prayer.  But  these, 
which,  in  distinction  from  the  communications^of  .his  grace,  we 
call  common  mercies,  are  equally  derived  from  his  bounty,  and 
Ihe  effects  of  his  mediation. 

*'  He  snnk  beaeath  our  heavy  woes« 

"  To  raise  us  to  a  throne  ; 
'<  There's  not  a  gift  his  hand  bestows, 

,**  But  cost  his  heart  a  groan." 

We  are  therefore  bound  by  gratitude,  as  well  in  the  ordinary 
actions  of  life,  as  in  those  of  the  most  importance,  whether  we  eat 
or  drink,  to  do  all  with  a  regard  to  his  love,  and  with  a  view  to 
his  glory. 

It  is  to  be  feared  that  this  apostolic  rule  is  too  much  disregarded 
by  many  professors  of  the  Gospel.  However  they  may  seem  to  differ 
from  the  world,  by  a  stated  and  orderly  attendance  upon  the  ordi- 
nances, they  are  not  easily  distinguished  upon  many  other  occasions^ 
particularly  at  their  meals.  The  people  of  the  world  can  scarce- 
ly exceed  them  in  the  cost,  care,  profusion,  and  variety  with  which 
their  tables  are  covered.  I  am  willing  to  allow  some  regard  to  a 
person's  situation  in  life ;  but  perhaps  the  excess  is  more  fre- 
quently observable  among  people  in  trade,  or,  as  we  say,  in  mid- 
dling circumstances,  than  at  the  tables  of  the  opulent.  A  friend 
of  mine,  since  deceased,  told  me  that  when  he  was  a  young  man, 
he  once  dined  with  the  late  Dr.  Butler,  at  that  time  bishop  of 
Durham  ;  and  though  the  guest  was  a  man  of  fortune,  and  the  in- 
terview by  appointment,  the  provision  was  no  more  than  a  joint  of 
meat  and  a  pudding.  The  bishop  apologized  for  his  plain  fare 
by  saying,  '*  that  it  was  his  way  of  living ;  that  he  had  been  long 
disgusted  with  the  fashionable  expense  of  time  and  money  in  en- 
tertainments, and  was  determined  that  it  'Should  receive  no  coun- 
tenance from  his  example.''  The  economy  of  this  truly  venera- 
ble prelate  was  not  the  effect  of  parsimony ;  for  I  have  been  as^ 
sured,  that  though  he  was  sometime  possessed  of  the  princely 
revenue  of  Durham,  be  might  be  said  to  die  poor,  leaving  little 
more  money  than  was  necessary  to  discharge  his  debts,  and  pay 
for  his  funeral.  But  we  may  accommodate  to  him,  what  the  apo&* 
ties  said  of  themselves  on  another  occasion,  "  He  did  not  think  it 
meet  to  leave  the  word  of  God,  and  to  serve  tailes.^^     And  at  the 


494  Off  E|XlCIOU8  rEA8TIN«. 

tables  of  some  genltemen  of  \etj  respectable  characters  and  aflki* 
cot  fortunes,  who  do  me  the  honoar  to  notice  me,  I  have  often 
seen  little  more  than  I  should  have  thought  it  right  to  have  had  at 
my  own,  if  they  had  favoured  me  with  their  company.  It  is  «t 
least  certain,  that  the  waste  and  parade  of  which  I  complain,  are 
by  no  means  confined  to  those  who,  according  to  the  common 
phrase,  can  best  afford  it. 

When  ministers  of  the  Gospel  are  invited,  they  may  sometimes 
have  reason  to  suppose,  that  some  part  of  the  apparatus  they  meet 
with  may  be  intended  as  a  mark  of  regard  and  attention  to  them  ; 
and  it  has  the  appearance  of  ingratitude  to  blame  our  friends  for 
their  kindness ;  but  some  of  us  would  be  better  pleased  to  be  treated 
less  sumptuously,  and  in  a  way  more  conformable  to  the  simplicity 
of  our  Christian  profession.  We  would  not  wish  to  be  considered  as 
avowed  epicures,  who  cannot  dine  well  without  a  variety  of  delica* 
cies  :  and  if  we  could  suppose  that  such  cost  and  variety  were  de- 
signed to  remind  us  how  much  better  we  fare  abroad  than  at  home, 
we  might  think  it  rather  an  insult  than  a  compliment.  1  have  known, 
in  families  where  there  is  do  professed  housekeeper,  the  mistress 
of  the  house  has  been,  like  Martha,  too  much  encumbered  with 
cares  and  anxieties  in  making  preparation  for  her  friends.  They 
could  not  see  her  so  soon  as  Uiey  have  wished,  and  when  she  has 
appeared,  she  could  not  wholly  conceal  the  discomposure  she  has 
felt  from  some  unexpected  incident,  which  has  more  or  less  dUcon* 
certed  the  projected  arrangement  of  her  feast.  Such  things  may 
be  common  among  those  who  live  without  God  in  the  world  :  but 
they  should  be  carefully  avoided  by  those  who  make  a  profession, 
that  whether  they  eat  or  drink,  they  do  all  for  his  glory.  Often 
we  cannot  avoid  the  thought — *'  this  dish,  unnecessary  in  itself,  or 
unnecessarily  expensive,  might  have  been  well  spared,  and  the  mo- 
ney given  to  the  poor ;"  for  there  is  not  a  day,  in  which  some  of 
the  dear  people  of  God  do  not  find  a  difficulty  in  providing  bread 
for  their  children. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  one  circumstance  in  the  history  of  our  Sav« 
iour  so  little  laid  to  heart,  so  generally  overlooked,  by  those  who 
acknowledge  him  as  their  Master  and  their  Lord,  as  thai  stale  of 
poverty  to  which  he  submitted  while  upon  earth.  He  had  no  home  ; 
He  bad  not  a  piece  of  silver  to  pay  the  tribute^money  :  he  was 
hungry  when  he  went  to  the  fig-tree ;  and  when  he  sat,  like  a 
weary,  obscure  traveller,  by  the  welUside,  he  was  thirsty  ;  he  ask- 
ed for  a  little  water,  and  seemed  upon  the  poin^  of  being  refused. 
He  wrought  no  miracle  solely  for  his  own  relief;  but  be  feh  for 
the  necessitous,  and  miraculously  fed  them  by  thousands ;  not 
with  dainties,  which  would  .have  been  equally  easy  to  him,  but 
finding  a  few  loaves  and  fishes  amongst  them,  he  satisfied  their 


ON  BSU6I0U9  FEASTING.  495 

wants  widioiiC  changipg  their  diet.  Yea,  aftek*  his  resarrectiou, 
when  he  had  taken  possession  of  all  power  and  authority  both  in 
heaven  and  in  earth,  he  condescended  to  diois  with  his  disciplei 
apon  broiled  fish  and  bread,  which  he  likewise  provided  for  tfa^m** 
Alas!  the  rich  followers  of  this  poor  Saviour  have  more  reason  to 
be  ashamed  of  their  gorgeous  apparel,  their  fine  houses,  their  ele* 
gant  furniture,  and  their  splendid  entertainments,  than  to  value 
themselves  upon  such  trifles !  They  are  unavoidable  appendages 
to  persons  in  some  situations ;  but,  I  believe,  they  who  have  drank 
deeply  into  our  Lord's  spirit,  account  them  rather  burdens  than 
benefits. 

I  know  several  persons,  whose  ability  to  do  much  more  in  this 
way,  if  they  pleased,  than  they  do,  is  not  disputed  ;  and  whose 
acknowledged  benevolence  and  bounty  secure  them  from  the  sus- 
picion of  being  restrained  by  covetousoess.  I  have  often  wished 
that  a  number  of  these  would  form  themselves  into  a  society,  for 
the  express  and  avowed  purpose  of  discountenancing,  by  their  ex- 
ample and  influence,  that  sinful,  shameful  conformity  to  the  world, 
which  spreads  like  a  gangrene,  is  the  reproach  of  the  Gospel,  and 
threatens  the  utter  extinction  of  vital  religion  in  multitudes  who 
profess  it. 

But  this  religious  feasting  is  peculiarly  scandalous  and  abomi- 
nable, when  it  is  celebrated  on  the  Lord's  day.  Some  professors 
are  not  ashamed  to  say,  that  they  are  so  taken  up  with  business 
through  the  week,  that  they  have  no  other  day  in  which  they  can 
see  their  friends.  But,  my  dear  reader,  if  you  are  a  man  of  bnsi« 
ness,  and  fear  the  Lord,  i  hope  you  speak  very  diflerent  lan- 
guage. I  hope  you  can  say,  *'  1  am,  indeed,  necessarily  and 
closely  engaged  in  business  for  the  six  days ;  but  I  bless  the  Lord 
for  the  gracious  appointment  of  a  day  or  rest,  which  sets  me  free 
for  one  day,  at  leasts  from  the  snares  and  cares  of  the  world,  gives 
me  an  opportunity  of  recruiting  my  spiritual  strength  by  private 
and  public  attendance  upon  the  Lord,  and  afibrds  me  a  little  time 
to  attend  to  the  state  of  my  children  and  servants.  I  love  my 
friends ;  but  if  my  business  will  not  permit  me  to  see  them  at  other 
times,  it  is  better  for  me  not  to  see  them  at  all,  than  to  be  inter* 
ropted  in  the  improvement  of  my  privileges  on  the  Lord's  day." 

But  they  who  then  choose  to  meet  in  troops,  and  feed  them- 
selves without  fecr,  will  still  have  something  to  plead.  They  are 
all  professors,  they  do  not  visit  the  people  of  the  world,  nor  receive 
visits  from  them.  They  manage  so  as  to  hear  two  good  Gospel 
sermons  in  the  day,  and  perhaps  have  a  hymn  and  a  prayer  after 
dinner  into  the  bargain.  Though  they  go  well  filled  to  the  even- 
ing worship,  they  are  far  from  being  intoxicated.  Will  they  say. 
If  there  any  harm  in  this  f  Ask  their  servants,  for  whom  they  are 


496  THOUGHTS   ON   JTAITH. 

responsible,  and  Who  have  as  good  a  right  as  iheiDselves  4o  wor- 
ship the  Lord  oo  his  own  day.  But  the  poor  servants  are  per- 
haps more  harassed  and  fatigued  on  the  Lord's  day  than  on  any 
other  day  of  the  week^  If  they  still  say,  "  What  harm  f "  let  me 
only  appeal  to  your  own  consciences :  Is  this  ^*  to  eat  and  to 
drink  to  the  glory  of  God  f "  If  you  can  persuade  yourselves  to 
think  so,  I  pity  you  but  know  not  what  answer  to  return. 

OMICRON. 
wiprtill,1796. 


THOUGHTS  ON  FAITH,  AND  THE  ASSUHANCE  OF  FAITH. 

We  may  easily  conceive  of  a  tree  without  fruit,  but  the  idea  of 
fruit  is  naturally  connected  with  that  of  so;ne  tree  or  shrub  which 
produces  it.  In  this  sense,  assurance  is  the  essence  of  faith  ;  that 
is,  it  springs  from  true  faith,  and  can  grow  upon  uo  other  root 
Faith  likewise  is  the  tneasure  of  assurance.  While  faith  is  weak, 
(our  Lord  compares  it  in  its  first  principles  to  a  grain  of  mosCard 
seed,)  assurance  cannot  be  strong. 

Jesus  Christ  the  Lord  is  a  complete,  all-sufficient  Saviour. 
His  invitation  to  the  weary  and  heavy  laden  is  general,  without 
exception,  condition,  or  limitation.  He  has  said.  Him  that  com- 
eth  unto  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out.  God  not  only  permits, 
but  commands  us  to  believe  in  the  Son  of  his  love.  The  apostle 
affirms  that  he  is  able  to  save,  to  the  uitermosif  all  that  come  unto 
God  by  him.  When  Moses  raised  the  brazen  serpent  in  the  wil- 
derness, the  direction  to  the  wounded  Israelites  was  very  short 
and  simple ;  it  was  only,  Look,  and  live.  Thus  the  Gospel  ad- 
dresses the  sinner.  Only  believe,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved. 

Why,  then,  does  not  every  sinner  who  is  awakened  to  a  sense 
of  his  guilt,  danger,  and  helplessness,  and  whose  desii*es  are 
drawn  towards  the  Saviour,  believe  with  full  confidence,  even 
upon  his  first  application  for  mercy  f  Is  not  the  remedy  folly 
adequate  to  the  malady  ?  Is  not  the  blood  of  Jesus,  able  to 
cleanse  from  all  sin  f  Is  not  the  word  of  the  God  of  truth  wor- 
thy of  entire  credit  f  Yet,  with  such  a  Saviour  exhibited  before 
the  eyes  of  his  mind,  and  with  such  promises  sounding  in  his  ears, 
he  continues  to  hesitate  and  ikictuate  between  hope  and  fear. 
Could  he  rely  as  firmly  on  the  word  of  God  as  he  can  on  the 
word  of  a  man,  who,  he  thinks,  means  what  he  says,  and  is  able 
to  make  good  his  promises,  he  would  immediately  be  filled  with 
joy  and  peace  in  believing.  But  experience  and  observation  may 
convince  us,  that,  however  rational  and  easy  bis  assurance  may 


TBOCGHTS    OS   FAITH  49T 

seem  in  theory,  it  is  ordinarily  unattainable  in  practice,  witliout 
passing  tiirough  a  train  of  previous  exercises  and  conflicts. 

It  is  true,  young  converts  are  often  favoured  with  comfortable 
impressions,  which  lead  them  to  hope  that  their  doubts  and  diffi- 
culties are  already  ended,  when,  perhaps,  they  are  but  just  enter- 
ing upon  their  warfare.  They  are  brought  as  it  were  into  a  new 
world  :  a  strong  and  lively  s^nse  of  divine  things  engrosses  their 
littention ;  the  world  sinks  into  nothing  in  their  esteem  ;  the  evil 
propensities  which  discourage  them  are  overpowered  for  a  season* 
and  they  hope  they  are  quite  subdued,  and  will  trouble  them  no 
more.  Their  love,  gratitude,  praise,  and  admiration,  are  in  vig- 
orous exercise.  An  aged,  experienced  Christian  may  recollect, 
with  a  pleasing  regret,  many  sweet  sensations  of  this  kind,  in  the 
early  stages  of  his  profession,  which  he  cannot  recall.  Bat  he 
now  knows  that  the  strong  confidence  he  felt  in  these  golden 
hours  was  not  the  assurance  of  faith  ;-^it  was  temporary  and  tran- 
sient ; — ^it  was  founded  upon  what  we  call  a  good  frame.  Though 
his  comforts  were  strong,  his  faith  was  weak  ;  for  when  the  good 
firame  subsided,  bis  fears  returned,  his  hope  declined,  and  he  was 
at  his  wit's  end.  Then,  perhaps,  he  wondered  at  his  own  pre- 
sumption, for  daring  to  hope  that  such  a  creature  as  himself 
could  have  any  right  to  the  privileges  of  a  believer.  And  if,  in 
the  warmth  of  his  heart,  he  had  spoken  to  others  of  what  God  had 
done  for  his  soul,  be  afterwards  charged  himself  with  being  a 
hypocrite,  and  a  falto  witness  both  to  God  and  man.  Thus, 
when  the  Israelites  saw  the  Egyptians  (who  had  pursued 
and  terrified  them)  cast  up  dead  upon  the  shore  of  the  Red  Sea, 
they  praised  the  Lord,  and  believed.  They  were  little  aware  of 
the  wilderness  they  had  to  pass  through,  and  the  trials  they  were 
to  meet  with,  before  they  could  enter  the  promised  land*    . 

But  strong  faith  and  the  effect  of  it,  an  abiding  persuasion  of 
our  acceptance  in  the  beloved,  and  of  our  final  perseverance  in 
grace,  are  not  necessarily  connected  with  sensible  comfort.  A 
strong  faith  can  trust  God  in  the  dark,  and  say,  with  Job, 
«*  Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  him."  Yet  it  is  not  to 
be  maintained  without  a  diligent  use  of  the  instituted  means  of 
grace,  and  conscientious  attention  to  the  precepts  of  the  CospeL 
For  notions  of  truth,  destitute  of  power,  will  not  keep  the  heart  in 
peace.  But  this  power  depends  upon  the  influence  of  the  Holy 
Spirit ;  and  if  He  is  grieved  by  the  wilful  eommissipn  of  sin,  or 
the  wilful  neglect  of  the  precepts,  he  hides  his  face,  suspends  bis 
influence,  and  then  confidence,  must  proportionably  decline,  till 
he  is  pleased  to  return,  and  revive  it.  There  are  likewise  bodily 
disorders,  which,  by  depressing  the  animal  spirits,  darkep  and 
discolour  the  medium  of  our  perceptions.  If  the  enemy  is  permits 
VoiM  IV.  €3 


498  tHoitghts  on  faith. 

ted  to  take  advantage  of  these  seasons,  he  can  poar  in  a  flood  a( 
temptations,  sufficient  to  fill  the  most  assured  believer  with  terror 
and  dismay.  But,  ordinarilj,  they  who  endeavour  to  walk  close- 
ly and  conscientiously  with  God,  attain,  in  due  time,  an  assurance 
of  hope  to  the  end,  which  is  not  easily  nor  often  shaken,  though 
it  is  not  absolutely  perfect,  nor  can  be  while  so  much  sin  and  im- 
perfection remain  in  us. 

If  it  be  inquired,  why  we  cannot  attain  to  this  state  of  compf>- 
8ure  at  first,  since  the  object  of  faith  and  the  promises  of  God  are 
always  the  same  ? — several  reasons  may  be  assigned. 

Uubelkfis  the  primary  cause  of  all  our  inquietude,  from  the 
moment  that  our  hearts  are  drawn  to  seek  salvation  by  Jesus. 
This  inability  to  take  God  at  his  word,  should  not  be  merely  la- 
mented as  an  infirmity,  but  watched,  and  prayed,  and  fought 
against  as  a  great  sin.  A  great  sin  indeed  it  is ;  the  very  root  of 
our  apostacy,  from  which  every  other  sin  proceeds.  It  often  de- 
ceives us  under  the  guise  of  humility,  as  though  it  would  be  pre- 
sumption, in  such  sinners  as  we  are,  to  believe  the  declarations 
of  the  God  of  truth.  Many  serious  people,  who  are  burdened 
with  a  sense  of  other  sins,  leave  this  radical  evil  out  of  the  list 
They  rather  indulge  it,  and  think  they  ought  not  to  believe,  till  they 
can  find  a  warrant  from  marks  and  evidences  within  themselves. 
But  this  is  an  affront  to  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God,  who 
points  out  to  us  the  Son  of  his  love,  as  our  wisdom,  righteousness, 
sanctification,  and  redemption,  without  any  regard  to  what  we 
have  been,  or  to  what  we  are,  excepting  that  broken  and  contrite 
spirit  which  only  himself  can  create  in  us.  And  this  broken 
spirit,  though  unbelief  perverts  it  to  our  discouragement,  is  the  very 
temper  in  which  the  Lord  delights,  and  a  surer  evidence  of  true 
grace  )han  those  which  we  are  apt  to  contrive  for  ourselves.  It  is 
written.  He  that  believeth  not  the  record  which  God  hath  given 
of  his  Son  maketh  him  a  liar.  Why  do  we  not  start  with  horror 
at  the  workings  of  unbelief,  as  we  should  do  at  a  suggestion  to 
eommit  murder,  or  the  grossest  outward  enormity  f 

Again,  our  natural  pride  is  a  great  hindrance  to  believing.  If 
we  acknowledge  ourselves  to  be  sinners,  and  are  sensible  of  oar 
need  of  mercy,  we  are  not  easily  brought  to  see  that  we  are  so  to- 
tally depraved,  so  exceedingly  vile,  so  utterly  destitute  of  all  good, 
as  the  word  of  God  describes  us  to  be.  A  secret  dependence  upon 
prayers,  tears,  resolutions,  repentance,  and  endeavours,  prevents 
us  from  looking  solely  and  simply  to  the  Saviour,  so  as  to  ground 
our  whole  hope  for  acceptance  upon. his  obedience  unto  death, 
and  his  whole  mediation.  A  true  believer  will,  doubtless,  repent 
and  pray,  and  forsake  his  former  evil  ways ;  but  he  is  not  accepted 
upon  the  account  of  wM  he  does  or  feels,  but  because  Jesus  livedo 


TH017GHTS   ON   FAITH.  A99 

and  died,  and  rose,  and  reigns  on  the  behalf  of  sinners,  and  be* 
cause  he  is  enabled,  by  grace,*  to  trust  in  him  for  salvation. 
Further,  pride  leads  us  into  that  spirit  of  vain  reasoning,  which  is 
contrary  to  the  simplicity  of  faith.  Till  this  is  renounced,  till  we 
become  in  some  measure  like  little  children,  and  receive  the  doc- 
trines of  Scripture  implieitly  because  they  are  from  God,  requir- 
ing no  further  proof  of  any  point  than  a  Thus  saith  the  Lard  ; 
we  cannot  be  established  in  our  hope.  Naaman  was  very  desir- 
ous to  be  healed  of  his  leprosy  ;  but  if  the  Lord  had  not  merciful- 
ly over-ruled  his  prejudices,  he  would  have  returned  a  leper  as  he 
came.  Before  he  Went  to  Elisha,  be  had  considered  in  his  own 
mind,  bow  the  prophet  ought  to  treat  him  ;  and  not  havii^g  the 
immediate  attention  paid  to  him  that  he  expected,  ha  was  upon 
the  point  of  going  away  ;  for  his  reason  told  him,  that  if  washing 
could  eflfect  his  cure,  the  waters  of  Syria  were  as  good  as  those  of 
Jordan.  ''  It  seems,"  to  use  the  words  of  a  late  ingenious  writeri 
'^  that  the  Gospel  is  too  good  to  be  believed,  and  too  plain  to  be 
understood,  till  our  pride  is  abased." 

it  is  difficult  to  determine  by  the  eye  the  precise  moment  of  day- 
break :  but  the  light  advances  from  e^trly  dawn,  and  the  sun  arises 
at  the  appointed  hour.  Such  is  the  progress  of  divine  light  in 
the  mind :  the  first  streaks  of  the  dawn  are  seldom  perceived  ;  but, 
by  degrees,  objects,  till  then  unthought  of,  are  disclosed.  The  evil 
•f  sin,  the  danger  of  the  soul,  the  reality  and  importance  of  eter- 
nal things,  are  apprehended,  and  a  hope  of  mercy  through  a  Sav- 
iour is  discovered,  which  prevents  the  sinner  from  sinking  into 
absolute  despair.  But  for  a  time  all  is  indistinct  and  confused. 
Ill  this  state  of  mind,  many  things  are  anxiously  sought  for  as 
pre-requisites  to  believing,  but  they  are  sought  in  vain,  for  it  is 
only  by  believing  that  they  can  be  obtained.  But  the  light  in- 
creases, the  sun  arises,  the  glory  of  God  in  the  person  of  Jesus, 
Christ  shines  in  tipon  the  soul.  As  the  sun  can  only  be  seen  by 
its  own  light,  and  diffuses  that  light  by  which  other  objects  are 
clearly  perceived  ;  so  Christ  cru^fied  is  the  sun  in  the  system  of 
revealed  truth ;  and  the  right  knowledge  of  the  doctrine  of  his 
cross  satisfies  the  inquiring  mind,  proves  itself  to  be  the  one  thing 
needful,  and  the  only  thing  necessary  to  silence  the  objections  of 
unbelief  and  pride,  and  to  afford  a  sure  ground  for  solid,  and 
abiding  hope. 

Once  more ;  we  cannot  be  safely  trusted  with  assurance  till  we 
have  that  knowledge  of  the  evil  and  deceitfulness  of  our  hearts, 
which  can  be  acquired  only  by  painful,  repeated  experience.  The 
young  convert,  in  his  brighter  hours,  when  his  heart  is  full  of 
joys,  and  be  thinks  his  mounUin  stands  too  strong  to  be  removed, 
may  be  compared  to  a  ship  with  mucii  sail  spread,  and  but  little 


500  TBOtTGBTS   ON   FAITB. 

bflUabt/  Sfac  goes  on  well  while  the  weather  U  fair,  but  is  not 
prepared  for  a  storm.  When  Peter  said, "  Thoa  hasi  the  words  of 
eternal  life,  we  believe  and  aresare  that  thon  art  the  Christ,''  and 
when  he  protested,  "  Though  all  men  forsake  thee,  yet  will  not  I," 
be  undoubtedly  spoke  honestly  ;  but  the  event  showed  that  be  did 
not  know  himself.  His  resoMitioo  was  soon  and  sorely  shaken  to 
the  hall  of  the  high-priest,  so  that  he  denied  his  Lord  with  oaths 
tad  imprecations.  He  was  left  to  fall,  that  he  might  learn  be 
did  not  stand  by  his  own  strength.  The  parable  of  the  prodigal 
may  be  accommodated  .  for  an  illustration  of  this  point.  The 
Scripture  says,  «*  Then  shall  ye  know,  if  ye  follow  on  to  know 
the  Lord."  But  we  often  want  to  know  at  first,  and  at  once  :  and 
suppose — ^If  1  was  but  sure  thdtl  am  right,  and  accepted  in  the 
Beloved,  1  could  go  on  with  fnore  spirit  and  success.  Many  re* 
joice  greatly  when  they  seem  to  obtain  this  desire,  but  their  joy  is 
short-lived.  They  soon  resemble  the  prodigal ;  they  beconie 
Tain,  rash,  and  careless ;  they  forsake  their  father's  house ;  their 
attention  to  the  means  of  grace  is  slackened  ;  they  venture  upon 
smaller  deviations  from  the  prescribed  rule,  which,  in  time,  lead 
them  to  greater.  Thus  their  stock  of  grace  and  comfort  is 
quickly  exhausted.  They  begin  to  be  in  want ;  and  after  having 
been  feasted  with  the  bread  of  life,  are  reduced  to  feed  upon  such 
husks  as  the  world  can  afford  them.  Happy,  if  at  length  they 
are  brought  to  their  right  minds  !  But,  oh  !  with  what  pungent 
shame  and  hunuliation  do  they  come  bach  to  their  Father !  He, 
indeed,  is  always  ready  to  receive  and  forgive  backsliders  ;  but 
surely  they  cannot  easily  forgive  themselves  for  their  ingratitude 
and  folly.  When  he  has  healed  their  broken  bones,  and  restored 
peace  to  their  souls,  it  may  be  expected  that  tbey  will  walk  softly 
and  humbly  to  the  end  of  their  days,  and  not  open  their  mouths 
any  more,  eitlier  to  boast,  or  to  censure,  or  to  complain. 

For,  a  man  who  possesses  a  Scriptural  and  well  grounded  as* 
sorance  in  himself,  will  evideuci:'  it  to  others  by  suitable  fruits. 
He  will  be  meek,  unassuming,  and  gentle  in  his  conduct,  before 
men,  because  he  is  humbled  and  abased  before  God.  Because 
be  lives  upon  much  forgiveness,  he  will  be  ready  to  forgive.  The 
prospect  of  that  blessed  hope  assuredly  laid  up  for  him  in  heaven, 
will  make  him  patient  under  all  his  appointed  trials  in  the  pre- 
sent life,  wean  him  from  an  attachment  to  the  world,  and  preserve 
him  from  being  much  affected  either  by  the  smiles  or  the  frowns 
of  mortals.  To  hear  persons  talk  much .  of  their  assurance,  and 
that  they  are  freed  frotn  all  doubts  and  fears,  while  they  habitaal- 
ly  indulge  proud,  angry,  resentful,  discontented  tempers,  or  while 
they  are  eagerly  grasping  after  the  world,  like  those  who  seek 
their  whole  portion  in  it,  is  painful  and  di^usting  to  a  serious 


ON  COVETOUSNESS*  .501 


mind*  Let  us  pity  them,  and  pray  for  them  ;  for  we  have  great 
reason  to  fear  that  they  do  j>ot  understand  what  they  say,  nor 
whereof  they  aflBrm. 

OMICRON. 
My  11,  1795. 


ON  COVETOUSNESS. 

What  is  Covctousness  ?  It  is  an  easy  besetting  sin,  from  which 
few  persons  are  entirely  free  ;  and  it  is  eminently  deceitful.  It  is 
decried  and  condemned[  in  others,  by  multitudes  who  live  in  the 
habit  of  it  themselves.  It  is  very  difficult  to  fix  a  conviction  of 
this  sin  upon  those  who  are  guilty  of  it.  Whether  drunkards  or 
profligates  regard  the  warnings  of  the  preacher  or  not,  when  he 
declares  that  they  who  persist  in  those  evil  practices  shall  not  in- 
herit the  kingdom  of  God ;  they  know  at  least  their  own  characters, 
and  are  sensible  that  they  are  the  persons  intended.  But  if  he 
adds,  Nor  the  covetous  man,  who  is  an  idolater — the  covetous 
man  usually  sits  unmoved,  and  is  more  ready  to  apply  the  threat- 
enings  to  his  neighbour  than  to  himself.  If  be  is  willmg  to  enter- 
tain the  ministers  or  friends  of  the  Gospel  sometimes  at  his  table,  if 
he  now  and  then  gives  a  few  shillings  to  the  poor,  and  a  guinem  or 
two  to  a  charitable  subscription^ he  cannot  suspect  that  he  is  liable 
te  the  charge  of  covctousness. 

There  are  two  words  in  the  Greek  Testament,  which  are  ren- 
dered covetousntss  in  our  version.  The  one  literally  signifies, 
The  love  ofmoriey  :  the  other,  A  desire  of  more.  The  senses  are 
indeed  coincident ;  for  no  man  would  desire  more  of  that  which 
he  did  not  love  ;  and  as  he  that  loveth  silver  cannot  be  satisfied 
with  the  silver  that  he  ali^eady  possesses,  he  will  of  coui-se  desire 
more.  Money  is  generally  loved  and  valued  at  first,  as  a  mean  of 
procuring  other  things  which  appear  desirable ;  but  many  who  begin 
thus,  are  brought,  at  length,  to  love  money  for  its  own  sake.    Such 

Kersons  are  called  misers.  We  meet  with  those,  who,  so  far  from 
eing  benevolent  to  others,  are  cruel  to  themselves  ;  and,  though 
abounding  in  wealth,  can  hardly  afford  themselves  the  necessaries 
of  life.  But  a  man  may  be  very  covetous,  though,  not  being  yet 
given  up  to  this  Judicial  infatuation,  he  may  congratulate  himself, 
and  thank  God,  that  he  is  not  a  miser. 

I  consider  covetousness  as  the  most  generally  prevailing  and 
ensnaring  sin,  by  which  professors  of  the  Gospel,  in  our  commer- 
cial city,  are  hindered  in  their  spiritual  progress.  A  disposition 
deeply  rooted  in  our  fallen  nature,  strengthened  by  the  habits  of 
business,  the  immense  circulation  of  cash,  the  power-of  custom. 


50S  OV   COVCTOUSNES8. 

and  the  fascinating  charm  of  a  balance  sheet,  is  not  easily  coqd- 
teracted. 

If  we  are,  indeed,  believers  in  Christ,  and  partakers  of  the  power 
of  his  resurrection,  we  are  bound  by  obligation,  and  required  by 
our  rule,  to  set  our  affections  on  the  things  that  are  above,  not  on 
the  things  on  the  earth.  He  has  called  us  out  of  the  world,  and 
cautioned  us  against  conformity  to  its  spirit.  While  we  arc  in  the 
world,  it  is  our  duty,  privilege,  and  honour,  to  manifest  that  grace 
which  has  delivered  us  from  me  love  of  it.  Christians  must  indeed 
eat  and  drink,  and  may  buy  and  sell,  as  other  people  do  ;  but  the 
principles,  motives,  and  ends  of  their  conduct,  are  entirely  differ- 
ent. They  are  to  adorn  the  doctrine  of  God  their  Saviour,  and  to 
do  all  for  his  glory.  By  his  wisdom  and  providence,  he  places 
them  in  different  situations,  that  the  power  and  sufficiency  of  his 
grace  may  appear  under  a  great  variety  of  outward  circumstances. 
He  gives  them  talents,  to  some  more,  to  others  less  ;  but  all  to  be 
improved  for  him.  Whether  they  are  rich  or  poor,  bond  or  free, 
they  are  so  by  his  appointment ;  with  which,  if  they  cheerfully 
comply,  they  shall,  in  due  time,  be  sensible  that  he  chooses  better 
for  them  ihaji  they  could  have  chosen  themselves.  The  language 
of  faith,  when  in  exercise,  will  not  be,  **  What  is  most  conducive 
to  my  temporal  ease  and  prosperity  ?"  but,  "  What  will  give  me 
the  fairest  opportimity  of  glorifyinc  him  who  has  bought  me  with 
his  blood,  and  called  me  out  of  darkness  into  his  marvellous  light  ? 
Too  much  of  my  time  has  already  been  wasted  :  how  shall  I  im- 
prove the  little  uncertain  remainder  for  his  service  ?  I  am  too  short- 
sighted to  judge  for  myself,  but  he  has  thus  far  determined  it.  I 
am  where  he  has  placed  me  :  and  the  calling  in  which  his  mercy 
found  me  (if  it  be  a  lawful  one)  is  that  in  which,  for  the  present,  I 
am  to  abide,  as  the  best  for  me.  When  it  ceases  to  be  so,  I  may 
depend  upon  him  to  -appoint  me  another.  But  till  then,  I  desire 
to  be  contented  with  such  things  as  1  have,  and  to  be  thankful  for 
them.  He  knows  my  fiime,  my  feelings,  my  wants,  and  ray  tri- 
als ;  he  permits,  yea,  invites  me  to  cast  all  my  cares  upon  him  ; 
he  assures  me  that  he  careth  for  me,  and  therefore  I  only  wish  to 
do  or  to  suffer  according  to  his  will  to-day,  and  to  leave  the  con- 
cerns of  to-morrow  in  his  hands.  While  I  live,  may  I  live  for 
him,  and  when  I  die,  may  I  go  to  him  !  May  his  grace  be  su£5cient 
for  me,  and  all  shall  be  well." 

The  Christian  knows,  or  should  know,  that  it  is  not  necessary  to 
be  rich,  or  to  be  admired  or  envied  by  an  unthinking  world  ;  but 
it  is  absolutely  necessary  for  him  to  maintain  peace  of  conscience, 
communion  with  God,  and  a  cheerful  activity  of  spirit  in  his  ser- 
vice. And  as  his  gracious  Lord  accepts  him,  not  according  to 
what  he  actually  does,  but  accocding  to  what  he  would  do  if  he 
could,  so  that  he  who  can  only  give  a  cup  of  cold  water  to  a 


01^   C0VET0US5SS8.  503 

prophet,  in  the  name  of  a  prophet,  shotild  receive  a  prophet's  re- 
wara.  In  this  respect  all  his  people,  however  differently  situated, 
are  exactly  upon  a  par.     Luke,  xxi.  3,  4« 

But,  alas  !  how  many  who  profess  to  know  and  value  the  Gos- 
pel, are  far  otherwise  minded  !  The  chief  mark  of  their  profession 
IS,  their  attendance  upon  the  ordinances  of  worship*  At  other 
times,  and  in  other  respects,  they  are  not  easily  distinguished  from 
the  world.  If  their  houses,  furniture,  tables,  and  other  appenda- 
ges, secure  them  from  the  suspicion  of  being  misers,  the  manner 
in  which  they  follow  their  business  sufficiently  proves  them  to  be 
covetous,  if,  when  they  can  find  leisure  to  speak  of  religion,  they 
complain  that  their  frames  are  low,  and  that  they  have  but  little 
comfort  in  the  ways  of  God,  this  is  the  most  favourable  token  we 
can  find  to  encourage  our  hope,  that  in  the  midst  of  all  thefr  hurry, 
there  may  be  a  latent  sincerity  at  the  bottom.  For  how  can  it  be 
otherwise,  if  they  had  a  spark  of  life  and  grace  in  their  hearts, 
while  they  attempt  to  look  two  ways  at  once,'  and  to  reconcile  the 
incompatible  claims  of  God  and  mammon  ?  The  love  of  money, 
and  the  desire  of  more,  are  always  in  exercise.  As  to  these,  their 
frames  seldom  vary,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  year. 
They  rise  early,  take  late  rest,  and  eat  the  bread  of  carefulness, 
that  they  may  be  able  to  vie  with  the  world  in  their  outward  ap- 
pearance, and  to  lay  up  snares,  and  thorns,  and  encumbrances, 
for  their  children.  Often,  when  already  possessed  of  a  lawful  bu- 
siness,^hich  affords  a  competence  for  a  comfortable  support,  if 
opportunity  offers  they  eagerly  catch  at  some  other  prospect  of 
gain,  though  the?  thereby  double  their  anxieties,  and  encroach 
still  more  upon  that  time  (too little  before)  which  they  could  afford 
to  allot  to  the  concerns  of  th^ir  souls.  Such  opportunities  they 
call  providential  openings,  and  perhaps  say  they  are  thankful  for 
them  ;  not  considering  tnat  such  openings  of  Providence  are  fre- 
quently temptations,  or  tests,  which  the  Lord  permits  a  man  to 
meet  with,  to  prove  what  is  in  his  heart,  and  to  try  him,  whether 
he  will  hold  fast  his  integrity  or  not,  and  whether  his  affections  be 
indeed  set  on  the  things  above,  or  still  ciea'e  to  the  earth. 

It  is  sometimes  the  pleasure  of  the  Lord  to  ^ive  a  servant  of  his 
what  the  world  calls  prosperity.  He  places  him  in  a  line  of  life 
suited  to  his  turn  and  ability,  prepares  a  plain  path  before  him^ 
and  by  a  blessing  upon  his  industry  and  economy,  the  man,  per- 
haps, from  small  beginnings,  increases  in  wealth,  almost  imper- 
ceptibly, with  little  other  solicitude  on  his  own  part,  than  a  faithful 
attention  to  the  duties  of  his  calling  from  day  to  day.  Such  a  per- 
son is  a  public  benefit.  The  Lord,  who  gives  him  riches,  teaches 
him  likewise  how  to  use  them.  He  chieQy  values  the  increase  of 
his  property  and  influence,  as  they  enlarge  his  sphere  of  useful- 
ness.   He  is  ready  and  active  to  promote  the  cause  of  God  in  the 


304  ov  coverousNESs. 

world,  and  to  relieve  the  wants  and  miseries  of  his  fellow-crea- 
tures. He  is  eyes  to  the  blind,  and  feet  to  the  lame  ;  the  friend 
of  the  fatherless  and  the  widow.  Persons  of  this  character  are  to 
be  found  amongst  us  ;  but  compared  with  the  bulk  of  professors, 
we  may  apply  to  them  what  the  poet  says  of  the  fleet  of  JEne^m 
after  the  storm  : 

Apparent  rari,  nantes  in  gurgite  vasto. 

A  few  still  swim  upon  the  waves,  which  have  swallowed  up  many. 
For  those  who,  as  the  apostle  expresses  it,  "  will  be  ricn,''  who 
will  strain  every  nerve  to  load  themselves  with  thick  clay,  and  to 
be  found  in  the  list  of  those  who  gain  much  money,  or  transact 
much  business,  may,  and  often  do,  obtain  the  poor  reward  they 
seek.  As  in  the  case  of  Israel,  when,  not  satisfied  with  bread 
from  heaven,  they  importunately  clamoured  for  flesh  likewise; 
God  gives  them  their  aesire,  but  sends  leanness  withal  into  their 
souls.  They  expose  themselves  to  temptations  and  snares,  to 
foolish  passions  and  pursuits  ;  and  thus  too  many,  who  promised 
fair  at  the  first  setting  out,  are  drowned  in  destruction  and  perdi- 
tion. For  it  is  written  in  the  Scripture,  that  no  covetous  man,  wfao 
is  an  idolater,  shall  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God  ;  and  the  Scrip- 
tures cannot  be  broken. 

At  the  best,  if  they  do  not  finally  perish,  they  are  in  great  dan- 
ger of  erring  from  the  faith,  and  certainly  piei'ce  theposelves 
through  with  many  sorrows  :  for  the  love  of  money  is  the  root  of 
all  evil.  We  may  efr  from  the  faith,  without  changing  the  form  of 
our  creed,  or  imbibing  docti'inal  errors.  Faith  is  an  active,  pow- 
erful principle  ;  it  realizes  things  unseen,  it  leads  to  the  throne  of 
grace,  it  feeds  upon  the  word  oilife,  it  desires  and  obtains  commu- 
nion with  God,  and  power  from  the  Spirit  of  grace,  by  which  it 
purifies  the  heart,  works  by  love,  and  overcomes  the  world. 
These  are  the  sure  efiects  of  faith ;  and  he  who  does  not  in  some 
measure  experience  them  in  himself^  may  have  an  opinion,  a  no- 
tion of  the  truths  of  the  Gospel,  and  may  be  right  in  theory  ;  but 
he  is  either  an  utter  stranger  to  the  faith  of  Gcxl's  people,  or  has 
greatly  erred  from  it. 

Who  can  enumerate  the  many  sonxsws  with  which  the  covetous 
and  worldly-minded  professor  is  pierced  ?  Especially  if  it  be  die 
Lord^s  pleasure  to  be  gracious  to  him,  and  he  purposes  to  bring 
him  at  last  out  of  the  snares  in  which  he  is  entangled.  Theu^ 
sooner  or  later,  his  schemes  are  broken  ;  losses,  crosses,  disap- 
pointments, and  anxieties,  wear  down  his  spirit.  Improper  con- 
nexions which  he  would  form,  because  he  would  be  rich,  become 
thorns  in  his  sides  and  in  his  eyes.  He  trusted  in  men,  and  men 
deceive  him  ;  he  leaned  upon  a  weak  reed,  which  breaks,  and  he 


ON   SOCiAL   Arr£CTI0N8.  106 

fiJk;  Thtss  he  finds  that  the  way  of  transgressors  and  backsliders 
is  bard.  His  distrefises  are  aggravated  by  the  voice  of  consciencet 
which  will  speak,  and  will  be  heard — ^'  Hast  thou  not  procured 
these  things  to  thyself^  in  that  thou  hast  forsaken  the  Lord  thy 
God,  when  he  led  tnee  by  the  way  ?" 

CovetousnesSy  or  the  love  of  the  world,  is  one  great  cause  of  the 
many  trials  we  meet  wilh  in  life.  The  principle  of  this  evil  is  so 
strong  in  us,  and  so  powerfully  nourished  by  almost  evenr  thing 
around  us,  that  it  is  seldom  suppressed  but  by  a  course  of  sharp 
discipline.  Many  persons  have  now  reason  to  be  thankful  for 
those  dispensations  of  Providence  which  once  seem  most  severe. 
If  the  Lord  had  not  seasonably  defeated  their  plans  of  life,  with- 
ered their  gourds,  broken  their  cisterns,  and  wounded  them  where 
they  were  most  keenly  sensible,  they  might,  yea,  they  would  have 
gone  on  from  bad  to  worse.  But  losses  are  gains,  and  the  heavi- 
est trials  are  mercies,  when  sanctified  to  bring  us  to  our  right 
minds  and  to  guide  our  feet  into  the  paths  of  peace. 

If,  therefore,  my  dear  reader,  you  wish  to  avoid  trouble,  and  to 
pass  through  life  as  smooth  as  possible,  take  heed  and  beware  of 
covetousness.  If  the  Lord  loves  you,  he  will  not  lose  you ;  and 
therefore  he  will  beat  you,  as  it  were,  in  a  mortar,  if  necessary,  rather . 
than  permit  that  to  remain  in  you  which  his  soul  abhors,  and  which, 
if  it  were  to  remain,  would  exclude  you  from  his  kingdom.  He 
has  said,  and  daily  experience  and  observation  confirm  his  apho- 
rism, *^  A  man^s  hfe  (tne  real  comforts  of  it)  consisteth  not  in  the 
abundance  of  the  things  which  he  possesseth.''  Gold  cannot 
communicate  peace  of  mind,  nor  compensate  for  the  want  of  it. 
Sorely  they  wno  are  satisfied  with  a  litde  of  this  world's  goods^ 
must  be  more  happy  than  they  who  are  not  satisfied  with  a  great 
deal.  Remember,  likewise,  that  where  much  is  given,  much  will 
be  required ;  and  seriously  consider,  what  will  it  profit  a  man,  if 
be  should  gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose  his  own  soul ! 

OMICRON. 

Oct.  2,  1796. 


ON  THE  COMFORTS  AND  SNARES  OF  SOCIAL  AND  BSXAr 
TIVE  AFFECTIONS. 

Alas  !  how  difficult  do  we  find  it  to  observe  a  due  medium 
between  overvaluing  and  undervaluing  our  creature  comforts ;  ea* 
pecially  those  of  social  and  relative  life.  The  mutual  afiectiond' 
which  does,  or  shoyld  subsist  between  husband  and  wife,  parents 
and  children,  and  proportionably  between  other  family  coojieZ'* 
ions,  or  our  intimate  and  tried  friends,  constituOs  our  chief  temp«« 

Vol.  IV.  ^4 


506  ON    SOCIAL   AFFECTIONS. 

ral  pleasures.  These  are  almost  the  only  pleasures  this  earth  can 
afford,  which  are  very  interesting  to  an  intelligent  and  seriood 
mind.  For  these  the  voluptuary  has  little  relish ;  sensuality  has 
blunted  his  feelings  and  his  gratifications  are  scarcely  superior  to 
those  of  the  brutes. 

Such  persons  are  not  at  present  concerned  in  the  subject  of  this 
paper,  nor  can  they  well  understand  it.  I  write  for  those  who 
possess  and  value  the  comforts  of  domestic  life,  acknowledge  the 
goodness  of  the  Lord  in  bestowing  and  preserving  them,  who  wish 
to  make  them  additional  motives  for  gratitude  and  praise,  but  are 
often  apprehensive  that  their  attachment  to  his  gifb  withdraw 
their  thoughts  from  the  great  Giver,  and  encroach  upon  that  su- 
preme regard  which  is  only  doe  to  himself. 

A  disposition  to  love  the  creature  more  than  the  Creator,  is 
undoubtedly  a  part  and  a  proof  of  our  natural  depravity.  This 
evil  principle,  described  by  the  apostle  under  the  names  of  the 
Flesh,  the  Old  Mao,  and  Indwelling  Sin,  however  weakened  and 
mortified  in  a  true  believer  is  not  extirpated.  The  opposition  be- 
tween nature  and  grace,  flesh  and  spirit,  renders  the  Christian 
life  a  state  of  constant  warfare.  They  are  opposite,  contrary, 
'contradictory  one  to  the  other  ;  no  peace  or  truce  can  subsist  be- 
tween them.  The  effects  of  this  conflict  extend  to  every  facul* 
ty :  when  grace  is  in  exercise,  the  motions  of  sin  are  noticed, 
checked,  and  lamented  ;  but  they  are  always  sufficiently  strong 
to  render  our  best  intentions  and  best  actions  defective  and  pollu- 
ted ;  and  particularly  to  depreciate  and  adulterate  the  finest  feel- 
ings of  humanity,  and  to  turn  our  glory  into  shame.  Thus  our 
comforts  often  become  our  snares,  and  that  which  should  be  for 
our  health  proves  an  occasion  of  falling. 

We  cannot  be  too  watchful  against  this  propensity  :  it  should 
prompt  us  to  daily  humiliation  and  much  prayer.  But  the  LfOrd 
is  not  a  hard  master ;  he  gives  us  all  things  richly  to  enjoy  ;  not 
to  raise,  and  then  disappoint  our  expectations,  but,  within  the  lim- 
its his  wisdom  prescribes,  to  gratify  them.  Ignorance  and  super- 
stition misrepresent  him.  Under  their  influence  multitudes  think 
to  please  him  by  self-invented  austerities  and  mortifications,  and 
suppose  they  shall  be  acceptable  to  him,  in  proportion  as  ihey 
make  themselves  miserable.  But,  on  the  contrary,  we  are  assured 
that  he  delights  in  our  prosperity,  so  far  as  it  is  consbtent  with  our 
safety ;  and  that  he  does  not  willingly  afBict  the  children  of  men, 
and  especially  his  own  children,  who  love  and  serve  him.  He 
has  placed  us  in  a  world,  in  which  (considered  as  his  world)  every 
thing  is  beautiful  in  its  season,  proper  use,  and  due  subordination, 
to  our  chief  good  ;  though,  considered  as  manU  world,  our  apos- 
tacy  h^s  filled  it  with  confusion  and  misery. 


ON    SOCIAL    AFFECTIONS.  507 

Contemplate  his  goodness  in  r  rural  situation.  Liglit,  colours, 
and  prospects,  are  suited  to  please  the  eye.  Tlie  singing  of  hirds, 
tiie  louring  of  the  cattle  the  bleating  of  the  sheep,  and,  in  general, 
the  inarticulate  tones  of  all  the  animal  tribe,  are  soothing  and 
grateful  to  the  ear.  During  a  great  part  of  the  year,  the  scent  of 
blossoms  and  flowers  prefumes  the  air,  and  regales  the  sense  of 
smelling.  Food  is  a  necessary  mean  for  the  preservation  of  life, 
and  would  be  so  if  it  were  no  less  unpalatable  than  the  most  nau- 
seoQs  drt/gs.  Rut  we  are  furnished  with  a  profusion  and  variety 
of  articles,  which,  while  they  satisfy  our  hunger,  and  recruit  our 
strength,  are  likewise  grateful  to  the  palate,  and  accommodated 
to  the  different  tastes  of  different  persons  :  nay,  he  has  not  only 
given  us  food,  but  fruits.  These  are  certainly  not  needful  for  the 
support  of  life,  nor  are  they  interdicted,  like  the  fruit  of  the  tree 
of  knowledge,  but  are  freely  presented  for  our  use.  Things  might 
have  been  so  constituted,  that  all  our  sensations  from  external  ob- 
jects would  have  been  disagreeable  and  painful.  But  God  is  good. 
We  should  live  in  the  midst  of  continual  enjoyments  if  we  obeyed 
his  precepts,  and  observed  his  regulations  ;  which,  however  con- 
trary to  the  evil  disposition  of  our  fallen  nature,  amount  to  no 
more  than  the  kind  admonition.  Do  thyself  no  harm  ;  for  there  is 
not  a  single  restriction  enjoined  by  the  scripture,  with  which  it 
would  not  be  our  interest  to  comply,  if  the  authority  of  God 
was  wholly  out  of  the  question.  But  sin,  where  it  prevails,  disr 
honours  God,  abuses  his  gifts,  and  throws  all  into  confusion. 
Intemperance,  riot  and  disorderly  passions,  have  filled  the  earth 
with  wo. 

Thus,  as  we  are  creatures  formed  for  society,  and  cannot  live, 
with  either  safety  or  comfort,  in  a  solitary  state,  it  has  pleased 
God,  of  his  goodness,  to  make  us  susceptive  of  social  affections, 
which  sweeten  our  intercourse  with  each  other,  and  combine  duty 
with  pleasure.  Parents  are  certainly  bound  by  the  law  of  nature 
to  take  care  of  their  own  children,  and  to  provide  for  them  ;  espe- 
cially in  the  helpless  state  of  infancy,  when  they  are  utterly  una- 
ble to  take  care  of  themselves.  Tins  would  often  be  an  irksome 
task,  if  they  did  not  feel  an  instinctive  tenderness  for  their  infant 
offspring  at  first  sight,  which  makes  that  delightful  which  might 
otherwise  be  troublesome. 

It  is  likewise  the  appointment  of  God,  that  the  successive  gene- 
rations of  mankind  should  be  perpetuated  by  marriage.  As  this 
is  the  nearest  of  all  natural  relations,  so  when  the  union  is  proper- 
ly formed  and  conducted,  it  is  the  most  interesting  and  endeared. 
This  union,  by  the  will  of  God,  is  in  itself  indissoluble  till  death 
makes  a  separation,  excepting  in  the  single  case  of  unfaithfulness. 
But  the  marriage  state,  when  entered  into  without   a  regard  to 


508  on    SOCIAL  AFFECTIONS. 

God,  to  tbe  rukd  of  bis  word,  and  a  dependeoce  upon  his  blessing, 
IS  seldom  productive  of  aa  abiding  union  of  hearts ;  and  if  this  be 
wanting,  tbe  case  of  either  party  may  be  compared  to  that  of  a  dis- 
located limbi  which  is  indeed  still  united  to  the  body,  but,  not  be- 
ing in  its  proper  place  and  connexion,  is  useless  and  painfol  itself, 
and  the  cause  of  pain  and  uneasiness  to  the  whole  body.  Even  the 
marriages  of  those  who  come  together,  and  live  together  in  the 
fear  of  the  Lord,  are  subject  to  heavy  taxes ;  doubled  in  wed- 
lock, and  frequently  multiplied  in  children ;  they  have  a  larger 
share  of  cares,  duties,  and  anxieties,  than  those  who  live  single; 
jet  they  are  comparatively  happy.  And  I  think,  all  things  con- 
sidered, they  have  the  most  favoured  lot.  They  love  the  Lord, 
they  seek  his  presence  and  blessing,  and  they  do  not  seek  in  vain. 
They  love  each  other,  they  have  one  faith,  one  aim,  one  hope. 
Their  mutual  affection,  intimacy,  and  perfect  confidence,  greatly 
enhance  the  value  and  relisli  of  the  comforts  in  which  they  parti- 
cipate, and  alleviate  the  weight  oi  iheir  burdens  and  trials.  Love 
sweetens  labour,  and  blunts  the  sting  of  sorrow.  The  vicissi- 
tudes of  life  give  energy  to  prayer ;  and  repeated  supports  and  de- 
liverances, in  answer  to  prayer,  afford  new  motives  and  causes  for 
praise  and  thanksgiving. 

But  still  they  are  jealous  of  themselves,  lest  tluise  affectionate 
feelings,  which  greatly  assist  them  in  discharging  their  social  and 
relative  duties  with  attention  and  cheerfulness,  should  become  ex- 
cessive and  idolatrous.  And,  as  1  have  already  observed,  they 
have  reason  to  be  always  upon  their  guard,  lest  that  which  is  law- 
ful and  right  in  itself,  should,  by  being  indulged  in  an  immode- 
rate degree,  become  ensnaring  and  hurtful.  A  true  believer  is, 
for  the  most  part,  rather  sliocUed  than  seduced  by  temptations  to 
gross  evils  :  his  heart  recoils  at  the  proposal.  He  thinks,  with 
Joseph,  "  How  can  i  do  this  wickedness,  and  sin  against  God  ?" 
Perimtis  in  licitis — His  chief  danger  lies  in  the  abuse  of  lawfal 
things.  The  relation  we  stand  in  to  God,  as  his  intelligent  crea- 
tures, from  whom  we  derive  all  that  we  have  or  are,  and  on  whom 
we  depend  for  every  breath  we  draw,  makes  it  our  indispensable 
duty  to  love  him  with  al]  our  heart,  and  mind,  and  soul,  and 
strength.  And  as  we  have  broken  this  law  of  our  creation,  be 
has  in  mercy  been  pleased  to  claim  us  for  his  own  by  a  new  and 
more  endearing  title.  He  has  redeemed  us  to  himself  by  bis 
blood.  He  has  bought  us  with  a  price,  and  paid  his  life  as  a 
ransom  for  our  souls.  Wlien  a  sinner  is  enabled  to  feel  tbe  force 
of  this  argument,  he  needs  no  more  :  the  love  of  Christ  constrains 
him.  ^  From  that  moment  he  is  made  willing  to  devote  himseir, 
and  his  all,  to  him  who  died  for  him.  But  the  flesh  striveth 
against  the  Spirit :  he  is  still  a  poor  creature.     He  camiel  do 


ON   SOCIAL  ArrSCTIONS.  509 

Ibe  things  that  he  wonid,  nor  as  he  would ;  otherwise  every 
thought  of  his  heart  should  be  ia  absolute  subjection  to  his  Lord 
and  Saviour. 

The  Lord,  who  knows  our  frame,  and  whereof  we  are  made,  is 
unspeakably  merciful  to  our  infirmities,  but  be  will  not  admit  a 
rival.  The  believer  knows  and  acknowledges,  that  whatever  he 
possesses,  which  is  not  held  and  improved  in  subordination  and 
subserviency  to  the  will  and  glory  of  him  from  whom  he  received 
it,  is  so  far  an  idol  ;  and  th^  consciousness  of  his  proneness 
to  afford  these  intruders  an  undue  share  \n  his  affections,  often 
makes  him  confess  to  the  Lord,  with  Job,  "  Behold,  1  am  vile,'' 
though  his  outward  conduct  in  the  sight  of  men  may  be  unblame-  • 
able  and  exemplary. 

Yet,  perhaps,  some  persons  may  be  overburdened  with  this  ap- 
prehension. The  Gospel  is  not  designed  to  make  us  stoics :  it 
allows  full  room  for  those  social  feelings  which  are  so  necessary 
and  beneficial  in  our  present  state,  though  it  teaches  and  enjoins 
their  dne  regulations.  It  is  the  duty,  no  less  than  the  privilege  of 
husbands,  to  love  their  wives,  even  as  their  ownselves,  yea,  even 
as  Christ  loved  the  Church,  who  gave  himself  for  it.  These 
expressions  are  very  strong ;  they  imply  great  love,  tenderness, 
and  sympathy.  When  the  Lord  said  to  Abraham,  **  Take  now 
thy  son,  thine  only  son,  Isaac,  whom  thou  lovest,"  he  did  not 
reprove  him  for  loving  his  child  ;  and  Abraham's  prompt  obedi- 
ence, when  commanded  to  offer  up  his  beloved  son,  was  a  proof, 
that  though  his  love  to  Isaac  was  strong,  it  was  not  inordinate. 
And  the  apostle  declares,  ^*  that  if  any  man  provide  not  for 
those  of  his  own  house,  (his  kindred,  his  more  distant  relatives 
by  blood  or  affinity,)  he  hath  denied  the  faith,  and  is  worse  than 
an  infidel."  He  is  to  provide  for  them,  if  in  his  power,  in  pre- 
Arence  to  others,  which  plainly  intimates  that  they  are  preferably 
entitled  to  his  love.  Friendship,  likewise,  between  those  who 
are  joint  partakers  of  grace,  is  very  consistent  with  true  re- 
ligion. Such  was  the  friendship  between  David  and  Jonathan. 
And  though  our  Lord  loved  all  his  disciples,  one  of  them  is 
honoured  with  a  peculiar  distinction,  as  (he  disciple  whom  Jesus 
Joved. 

Crod  formed  us  originally  for  himself,  and  endued  the  human 
mind  with  a  capacity  which  he  alone  can  fill.  But  when  he 
dwells  in  the  heart,  there  is  still  room  for  innumerable  objects  of 
complacence,  in  their  proper  subordinate  order.  When  a  wo* 
man  marries,  &he  may  continue  to  love  her  own  parents  and  re- 
latives as  formerly }  she  may  extend  her  affection  and  regard  to 
the  parents  and  friends  of  her  husband  }  in  a  course  of  years  the 
number  of  those  whom  she  loves  and  values  may  be  greatly  increas- 


510  ON    SOCIAL    AFFECTIONS. 

ed,  without  interfering  with  each  other,  or  with  what  she  owes  to 
her  husband  ;  but  there  is  a  different  and  special  regard  doe  to 
him,  which  if  she  should  transfer  to  another  person,  she  would  be 
criminal.  Thus  we  may  love,  and  we  ought  to  love,  our  hus- 
bands, wives,  children,  parents,  and  friends ;  and  if  we  consider 
them  as  the  Lord's  gifts — if  we  seek  bis  blessing  in  them  and  upon 
them — if  we  hold  them  at  his  disposal — if  we  employ  all  our  in* 
fluence  with  them,  to  engage  them  to  seek  and  love  him  sapreme- 
ly — if,  when  they  are  removed  from  us,  we  are  disposed  to  yield 
a  cheerful  submission  to  his  holy  will ;  and  if,  when  things  are 
brought  into  competition,  we  rather  choose  to  venture  displeasing 
•  our  dearest  friends,  than  to  sin  against  the  Lord — with  these  re- 
strictions we  cannot  easily  love  them  too  much. 

But  who  can  come  up  to  this  standard  ?  I  suppose  no  person 
can  completely.  But  we  may  aim  at  it ;  we  may  lament  our  de- 
ficiency ;  we  may  pray  for  more  grace ;  and  by  grace  we  may 
approximate  more  and  more  to  it.  It  is  not  necessary  to  distress 
ourselves  with  what  may  happen ;  as,  how  should  1  behave,  if 
the  Lord  were  to  take  the  desire  of  my  eyes  from  me  suddenly? 
We  are  to  live  to-day,  and  to  leave  to-morrow  with  him.  If  we 
presume  that  we  could  support  such  a  stroke,  we  should  probably 
find  it  too  heavy  for  us.  But  this  we  may  say,  The  Lord  is  all 
suiBcient,  and  he  is  faithful.  He  has  promised  strength  accor« 
ding  to  the  day.  He  permits  me  to  call  upon  him  in  the  time  of 
trouble ;  and  1  trust  when  the  time  of  trouble  shall  come, 
he  will  enable  me  to  pray  for  that  help  from  him,  without  which 
I  know  I  must  sink  ;  for  in  myself  I  am  weaker  than  a  bruised 
reed.  In  the  mean  time  I  endeavour  to  cast  all  my  care  upon 
him  who  careth  for  me. 

For  the  rest,  we  are  in  the  Lord's  school — the  school  of  ihc 
cross.  His  daily  providential  dispensations  are  suited  to  wean 
our  attachment  from  every  thing  here,  and  to  convince  us  that 
Hiis  cannot  be  our  rest — it  is  polluted.  Our  roses  grow  on  thorns, 
our  honey  wears  a  sting.  Frequently  our  sharpest  trials  spring 
from  our  choicest  comforts.  Perhaps,  while  we  are  admiring  our 
gourd,  a  worm  is  secretly  preying  upon  its  root.  As  every  bitter 
thing  is  sut(?tened  to  a  believer,  so  there  is  some  bitter  llnngs 
mingled  with  the  sweet.  This  is  wisely  and  mercifully  ordered, 
h  is  necessary.  And  if  things  were  not  so  bad  with  us,  as  in  the 
language  of  sense  they  sometimes  are,  ihcy  would  pmbably  be 
soon  much  worse.  With  such  hearts  as  we  have,  and  in  such  a 
world  as  we  live  in,  much  discipline  is  needful  to  keep  us  from 
sleeping  upon  the  enchanted  ground.  But  the  lime  is  short.  It 
will  not  be  thus  always.  We  hope  soon  to  be  out  of  tlie  reach  of 
sin  and  temptation.     Happy  hour,  when  sorrow  and  mourning, 


ON    SOCIAL   AVIPEGTIONS.  511 

hitherto  our  inseparable  companioDS,  shall  flee  away,  to  return  no 
more !  when  joy  and  gladness  shatl  come  forth  to  meet  us,  and 
conduct  us  home  !  Then  those  who  have  loved  each  other  in  the 
Lord  upon  earth,  shall  rejoice  together  before  him,  shall  drink  of 
the  rivers  of  pleasure  that  are  at  his  right  hand,  and  their  happi- 
ness shall  be  unspeakable,  uninterrupted,  without  abatement,  and 
without  end. 

OMICRON. 


THE  CONSTRAINING  INFLUENCE  OF  THE  LOVE  OF  CHRIST^. 


PREACHBD  IM  THE  CHURCH  OP  THE  UNITED  PARISHES  OF 

ST.  MARY  WOOLNOTH  AND  ST.  MARY  WOOLCHURCH-HAW, 

LOMBARD-STREET, 
BEFORE  THE  RIGHT  HONOURABLE 

THE  LORD  MAYORy  ALDERMEJ^T,  AND  SHERIFFS, 

On  the  »tb  day  of  Mai«h,  18G0. 
FOR  THE  BENEFIT  OF 


Let  your  light  to  ibine  before  men,  that  they  may  see  your  good  works  and 
glorify  your  Father  which  is  in  heavea.    Matt.  1. 16. 


Vot.  IV.  6S 


TO  THt 

TREASURER,  THE  TRUSTEES,  AND  COMMITTEE 

OP 

THE  CHARITY  SCHOOL  OF  LAAGBOURN*WARD, 

PUBLISHED  AT  THEIR  REqUEST, 
t&  ItESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED  AND  PKfiSENTED 

BT  THEm  OBEDfXNT  SERVANT, 

JOHN  NEWTON. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


Thi  Preacher  cannot  publish  this  Sermon  as  an  exact  copy  of  what  he 
delivered  from  the  palpit.  Some  interval  passed  before  bo  was  desired  to 
print  it.  His  recollection  is  much  impaired  by  age ;  and  he  had  no  notes 
to  assist  it ;  but  the  plan  is  the  same.  He  hopes  and  believes  (hat  none 
of  the  leading  sentiments  are  omitted,  and  that  the  additions,  if  any,  are 
but  few.  As  it  is,  he  commends  the  perusal  to  the  candour  of  the  reader, 
and  blessing  of  Almighty  God. 


TBB 

CONSTRAINING  INFLUENCE  OF  THE 
LOVE  OF  CHRIST. 


2  CoEINTHlAKSy  V.  13—15. 

IV,  xvkeiker  tvt  he  beside  ourselves  His  to  God :  or  whether  we  he  sober^  it  is 

for  your  cause*    For,  the  hve  of  Christ  consiraineth  us ;  hecai^e  we  thus 

juJ^e^  that  {[one  died  for  aU^  men  ^pere  all  dead :  and  Viat  he  died  for  ott, 

that  theu  which  live  should  not  henctforth  live  unto  themselveSj  but  unto  him 

which  aiedjor  Ihem  and  rose  again. 

TbE  apostles,  and  first  preachers  or  the  (xospel  among  the  hea- 
thens, eihibited  to  them  a  phenomenon  perfectly  new.  The 
Gceeks  and  Romans  had  known  persons,  among  themselves,  who 
had  strenuously  exerted  their  talents  and  activity  in  the  pursuit  of 
fame,  power,  or  wealth  ;  but  they  now  saw  men  no  less  indefatiga- 
ble and  persevering  in  prosecuting  a  design  which,  far  from  pro- 
curing them  either  honour  or  profit,  exposed  them,  wherever  they 
went,  to  contempt,  stripes,  imprisonment,  and  death.  Their  pro- 
fessed aim  was  to  make  others  as  happy  as  themselves  in  the  pos- 
session of  an  unseen  Good.  For  the  attainment  of  this  end,  they 
willingly  gave  up  all  prospect  of  worldly  advantage,  though 
they  were  generally  treated  with  scorn  and  cruelty  by  the  most  of 
those  whose  bests  interests  they  wished  to  serve.  This  was  a  dis- 
interested benevolence,  of  which  the  philosophers,  the  pretended 
friends  of  wisdom  and  virtue,  had  no  idea ;  nor  were  the  means 
they  employed  better  understood.  They  preached  Jesus  Christ, 
and  him  crucified  !*  For  endeavouring  to  persuade  their  hearers 
to  place  their  whole  hope  and  dependence  upon  one  whom  they 
had  never  seen,  but  who  had  been  publicly  executed  as  a  malefac- 
tor ;  and  to  affirm  that  this  Jesus,  who  died  upon  the  cross,  was 
yet  alive  ;f  that  he,  who  could  not  save  himself  from  an  ignomin- 
ious^death,  was  the  author  of  eternal  salvation  to  those  who  believ- 
ed on  him  ;  for  these  strange  assertions,  they  were  pitied  or  des- 
pised as  visionaries,  by  those  who  did  not  revile  them  as  hypo- 
crites. Thus  Festus,  who  seemed  to  have* a  favourable  opinion 
of  St.  Paul's  integrity,  when  he  beard  him  relate  the  manner  of  his 
conversion,  thought  that  no  man,  in  his  sober  senses,  could  talk  so^ 


♦  1  Cor.  ii.  «.  t  Mark,  xt.  SI. 


618  TBC  CaNSTaAIHIHG  INVL0BNCK  OF 

and  therefore  he  saidt  with  a  loud  voice,  '<  Paul,  thoo  art  beside 

thyself.*" 

But  bis  Lord  and  Master  was  treated  thus  before  him,  and 
upon  similar  grounds.  His  zeal  for  the  honour  of  his  heavenly 
Father  and  his  compassion  for  the  souls  of  men,  carried  him  so 
far,  that  we  read,  his  friends,  that  is,  his  relations  according  to  the 
flesh,  and  who  really  wished  him  well,  sought  to  lay  hold  of  him, 
and  restrain  him  ;  for  they  said,  he  is  beside  himself.f 

The  apostle  Paul  was  not  mad ;  he  spoke  the  words  of  trntb 
and  soberness ;  he  knew  whom  he  had  believed ,  he  kne#  the 
worth  of  immortal  souls,  and  the  importance  of  eternity.  He  bad 
once  fiercely  opposed  the  Gospel,  breathed  out  threateningsl  flmd 
slaughter  against  the  disciples,  and,  not  content  with  the  mischief 
he  had  done  in  Jerusalem,  was  hastening  to  Damasons  to  vex  and 
wrong  the  believers  there ;  but  he  was  arrested  in  his  journey  by 
a  light  and  a  voice  from  heaven  }  he  found  himself  in  the  power  o( 
that  Jesus  whom  he  had  persecuted,  and  who  is  pleased  to  consider 
all  that  is  done,  either  for  or  against  bis  people,  as  done  to  himself. 
The  furious  Paul,  of  Tarsus,  was  humbled,  pardoned,  and,  in  a 
few  days,  commissioned  to  preach  that  faith  which  be  had  so  per- 
tinaciously laboured  to  destroy.  From  that  hour,  renonnciBg  all 
connection  with  his  former  friends,  the  chief  priests  and  council, 
and  all  expectations  from  them ;  renouncing  likewise  that  right- 
eousness of  the  law  in  which  he  before  bad  boasted,'  he  devoted 
himself  to  the  service  of  his  Liord  and  Saviour,  and  of  the  cause 
which  be  had  opposed.  His  ardour  was  astonishing  and  exem- 
plary. Unwearied  by  labour,  undismayed  by  danger,  unaffected 
by  hardship  and  suffering,  but  supported  and  cheered  by  the  pre- 
sence of  him  whom  he  served,  he  preached  the  Gospel  in  season 
and  out  of  season,  publicly  and  from  house  to  house,  in  Jndea,  in 
Asia,  in  Greece,  in  Italy,  and  many  other  parts  of  the  Roman  em- 
pire. For  this  seal  in  seeking  to  promote  the  good  of  others,  of 
strangers,  of  enemies,  at  the  expense  of  all  that  was  dear  to  him- 
self as  a  man,  he  found,  as  he  expected,  in  almost  every  place 
which  he  visited,  open  oppositions,  and  secret  conspiracies  against 
his  life :  he  was  scourged  by  the  Jews,  beaten  with  rods  by  the 
Romans,  and  confined  in  prisons  and  chains.  He  was  likewise 
the  marked  object  of  general  contempt ;  the  wise  men  of  the  times 
despised  him' as  a  babbler ;  he  was  regarded  by  many  as  the  filth 
of  the  world,  and  the  offscoaring  of  all  things ;  many  said,  **  Away 
with  such  a  fellow  frotn  the  earth,  it  is  not  fit  that  he  should  live  !"$ 
But  when,  in  defiance  of  all  discouragements,  he  still  pressed  for- 
ward, as  if  he  had  done  nothing,  while  any  thing  more  remained 

*  Acts,  xxf i.  24.        t  Mark,  iii.  31.        t  Acts,  ix.        ^  Acts,  xxii.  it,. 


TBB  UHTK  OF  GBnST*  519 

to  be  done,  accounted  the  disgrace  be  met  witb  his  honour,  and 
gloried  in  his  chains,*  we  cannot  wonder  if  the  more  moderate  of 
fa^  observers,  who  knew  not  his  principles,  thought  that  he  was 
surely  beside  himself. 

The  only  apology  he  saw  fit  to  make,  is  expressed  in  my  text. 
The  bulk  of  mankind  in  Christendom,  by  whatever  name  they  are 
distinguished,  pay  little  more  regard  to  the  Gospel  than  th(  Jews 
or  heathens  did  in  the  apostle's  days.  The  heart  of  man,  in  its 
natural  state,  is  the  same  in  all  ages,  devoid  of  either  taste  or  in- 
clination for  the  things  of  God,  till  visited  by  power  from  on  high. 
Faithful  ministers  are  still  liable  to  be  thought  beside  themselves, 
by  some,  for  the  subject-matter  of  their  discourses  ;  by  others,  for 
the  importunity  and  freedom  of  their  addresses  to  the  consciences 
of  their  hearers.  We  are,  however,  encouraged  by  St.  Paul's  ex- 
ample, and  we  adopt  his  apology  :  If  we  are  beside  ourselves,  it 
is  to  God.  We  speak  in  his  name,  and  the  message  we  deliver,  so 
far  as  agreeable  to  the  Scripture,  is  from  him,  and  to  him  we  are 
responsible.  If  we  are  sober,  if  we  expostulate  and  reason  with 
you,  in  familiar  language,  upon  the  uncertainty  of  life,  the  certain- 
ty of  death,  and  a  future  judgment,  and  other  truths,  which  none 
but  infidels  will  venture  to  deny,  it  is  for  your  sakes. 

The  word  enthmicum  is  often  used  by  the  same  person,  in  two 
very  very  different  senses.  It  is  a  term  of  commendation  when 
applied  to  orators,  poets,  painters,  or  sculptors,  and  exfHre^es  the 
energy  of  genius.  No  one  is  expected  to  excel  in  the  fine  arts 
without  a  portion  of  enthusiasm  ;  and  it  is  supposed  essential  to 
military  prowess.  But  it  has  quite  another  acceptation  in  reli-t 
gioas  concerns.  If  a  minister  of  tlie  Gospel  is  warm  and  earnest, 
he  is  frequently  stigmatized  as  an  enthusiast,  that  is,  as  the  im- 
posers  of  the  name  would  have  it  understood,  a  person  of  a  weak 
mind  and  disordered  judgment,  if  he  be  really  sincere;  for  many 
,are  willing  to  suppose  that  his  enthusiasm  is  no  more  than  a  mai^ 
or  veil,  assumed  to  cover  the  artful  views  of  a  designing  hypocrite. 

For  myself,  it  is  a  small  thing  for  me  to  be  judg^  by  man's 
judgment. f  At  my  time  of  life,  nearly  the  close  of  my  seventy- 
fifth  year,  it  behoves  me  to  think  it  very  possible,  yea,  not  im- 
probable, that  every  time  I  appear  in  the  pulpit  may  be  my  last ; 
and,  when  I  look  round  upon  this  respectable  congregation,  I 
doubtless  see  some  persons  before  me  who  will  never  hear  me 
again.  Perhaps  we  shall  meet  no  more  in  this  world ;  but  we 
shall  certainly  meet  before  the  tribunal  of  the  Great  Judge,  to 
whom  all  hearts  are  open,  all  desires  known,  and  from  whom  no 
secrets  are  hidden.     Then  /must  give  an  account  of  my  ministry, 

*  Acts,  xxriii.  JO.  f  1  Cor.  iv.  3. 


520  THE  COHSTEAINING  INFLUENCE  OF 

and  you  must  give  ao  account  of  yourselves  to  God.  Sorely,  if  I 
believe  what  the  Scripture  teaches  of  the  evil  of  sin,  the  glory  of 
the  Saviour,  the  worth  of  the  soul,  and  the  importance  of  etemi- 
ty>  yon  will  allow  me  to  speak  with  the  same  degree  of  emotion- 
As  this  may  be  my  last  opportunity,  if  there  were  but  one  person 
amongst  us,  who  has  not  yet  attended  duly  to  these  great  subjects, 
1  must  not  let  him  depart  as  he  came :  I  must  warn  him  by  the 
terrors  of  the  Lord ;  1  must  beseech  him  by  his  tender  mercies  :* 
I  am  desirous  to  save  both  my  own  soul  and  the  souls  of  those 
that  hear  rae.f  Whether  I  be  beside  myself,  or  sober,  it  is  for 
the  cause  of  God  and  for  your  sakes.  The  love  of  Christ  con- 
straineth  me. 

We  may  observe,  from  this  passage, 

I.  The  grand  leading  motive  of  the  apostle's  conduct,  "  The 
love  of  Christ  constrains  us." 

II.  Two  doctrines  which  virtually  compreliend  the  whole  sub- 
jecte  of  the  Gospel  ministry  :  1.  The  provision  which  the  roercy 
of  God  made  for  the  recovery  of  fallen  man,  "  One  died  for  all ;" 
whence  he  infers,  2.  "  Then  were  all  dead." 

III.  The  end  he  had  in  view,  and  which  he  hoped  and  expect- 
ed to  obtain,  by  insisting  on  these  truths  wherever  he  went :  "  That 
they  which  live  should  not,  henceforth,  live  to  themselves,  but  to 
him  who  died  for  them  and  rose  again." 

I.  The  love  of  Christ  was  the  apostle's  chief  motive  ;  it  con- 
strained him,  tfuvsxsi ;  bore  him  along,  like  a  torrent,  in  defiance 
of  labour,  hardship,  and  opposition*  Many  of  us  know  the  force 
of  love  in  social  life,  and  feel  a  readiness  to  do,  bear,  or  forbear 
much  for  those  whom  we  greatly  love.  But  there  is  no  love  to 
be  compared  with  the  love  of  Christ.  He  is  the  brightness  of  the 
Father's  glory ,J  the  express  image  of  his  person,  God  manifest  in 
the  flesh ;  all  things  were  created  by  him,  and  for  him  ;  for,  this 
high  and  lofty  One,  who  inhabitetb  eternity ,§  in  the  fulness  of  time 
assumed  our  nature  into  personal  union  with  himself,  was  born  of 
a  woman,  made  under  the  law,  to  redeem  those  that  were  under 
the  law,  that  sinners,  believing  in  his  name,  might  not  only  escape 
deserved  condemnation,  but  might  receive  the  adoption  of  sons.  || 
For  this  prreat  purpose  he  emptied  himself;  and,  though  in  the 
form  of  God,  he  appeared  on  earth  in  the  form  of  a  servant ;  sub- 
mitted to  a  state  of  poverty,  reproach,  and  opposition  ;  was  des- 
pised and  rejected  of  men,  lived  a  suffering  life,  and  terminated 
iiis  sufferings  by  a  cruel  and  ignominious  death  ;  for  he  became 
obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross.lT     Therefore 

*  2  Cor.  V.  1 1 .    Rom.  xii.  1.        f  1  Tim.  iv.  16.        t  Hcb.  i.  3.     1  Tigi.  iii.  16. 
v^  Isaiaii,  Ivii.  lb.         |!  Ual.  iv.  4,  &.        f  Pbih  ii.  8. 


ITHX  LOVE  OF  CHRIST.  fiSl 

God  highly  exalted  bis  homan  nature,  aod  has  given  him  a  name 
above  every  name.  The  Lamb,  ooce  upon  the  cross,  is  now  the 
Lamb  upon  the  throne,  possessing  and  exercising  all  power  in 
heaven  and  on  earth.  Yet  he  is  still  mindful  of  those  for  whom 
be  suffered ;  his  heart  is  made  of  tenderness ;  his  bowels  melt  with 
love  ^  he  appears  in  the  presence  of  (Sod  for  them,*  as  their  great 
high  priest,  advocate,  and  intercessor.  By  his  holy  word  he  in* 
vites,  and  by  the  power  of  his  Holy  Spirit  he  draws,  and  encoor* 
ages,  aod  enables  the  weary  and  heavy-laden  to  come  unto  him 
for  rest.  He  declares,  that  they  who  apply  to  him^  he  will  in  no 
mse  cast  out;  and  he  promises  to  save  them  to  the  uttermost ;'\ 
to  support  and  guide  them  safely  through  all  their  conflicts,  tempt- 
ations and  trials,  while  they  are  here ;  to  lead  them  safely  through 
the  dark  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  ;  and  then  to  receive  them 
to  himself,  that  they  may  be  ever  with  him  to  behold  his  glory, { 

Such  is  the  love  of  Christ ;  or  rather,  we  may  be  ashamed  of 
the  faintness  of  our  conceptions  of  his  love.  When  we  attempt  to 
consider  the  glory  of  his  divine  person,  the  depth  of  his  humiliar 
tion,  the  unknown  sorrows  and  agonies  which  wrung  his  heart  in 
Gethsemane  and  on  mount  Golgotha,  and  that  he  endured  all  this 
fo/his  enemies,  even  for  those  whose  hearts  were,  both  by  nature 
and  habit,  alienated  from  him,  the  power  he  exerts  in  reconciling 
them  to  himself,  the  blessings  he  bestows  upon  them  in  this  life, 
when  they  are  renewed  by  his  grace,  and  the  eternal  happiness  he 
has  prepared  for  them  in  a  future  state — ^I  say,  when  we  attempt 
to  conceive  of  this  love,  in  its  origin,  progress,  and  effects,  we  are 
soon  overfvhelmed,  our  thoughts  are  swallowed  up,  and  we  can 
only  wonder  and  adore  in  silence*  This  love  of  Christ  to  sinners 
^is  inexpressible  ;  unsearchable,  and  passing  knowledge  ;  it  is  an 
ocean  without  either  bottom  or  shore. 

They  who  have  obtained  mercy,  who  know,  and  love,  and  trast 
him,  have  likewise  their  peculiar  l^ld  appropriate  reasons  for  ad- 
miring his  love.  They  often  reflect  on  what  they  were  doing, 
and  whither  they  were  going,  when  he  first  touched  their  hearts 
and  made  the«n  willing  to  receive  him  as  their  prophet,  priest,  and 
king,  ^hey  are  sensible  that,  if  they  had  died  in  their  ignorance^ 
they  must  have  been  lost  for  ever  :  and,  while  they  see  many  of 
their  fellow-creatures,  no  worse  by  nature  than  themselves,  who 
live  in  the  world  without  God,  and  without  Christ,  and  who  die^ 
it  is  to  be  feared,  without  any  solid  ground  of  hope,  they  rejoice, 
with  trembling,  for  that  undeserved  and  unsought  mercy,  which 
preserved  them  from  going  down  into  the  pit  of  destruction,  when 
their  sins  were  unpardoned,  and  their  hearts  unhumbled.    They 

*Hcb.ix.£4.        }John,Ti.37.    Heb.tikl^5.        J  John,  xvtt.  »• 
Vol.  IV.  65 


923  THE  CONSTRAINING  INFLUENCE  M 

confess  that  tbey  were  barren  tress  in  God's  vineyard  ;  and,  tbonglr 
be  bad  a  right  to  expect  Trait  from  tbera,  and  waited  year  after 
year,  he  found  none.  Why  then  were  tbey  not  cut  down  as  cum- 
berers  of  the  ground  ?  It  was  owing  to  the  gracious  interpositioa 
of  the  Great  Mediator  whom  tbey  bad  long  disregarded.  Tbas, 
as  we  have  observed,  it  was  with  oar  apostle.  The  pride  of  bis 
heart,  and  the  prejudices  of  his  education,  bad  fired  biro  with  rage 
against  the  cause  and  the  people  of  the  Lord.  He  seems  to  have 
been  no  less  active  and  furious  in  opposing  tbem  than  Herod.  Bot 
Herod  was  suddenly  cut  off,  and  devoured  by  worms ;  whereas 
Paul  of  Tarsus,  who  had  done  much  mischief,  while  meditating 
more,  was  suddenly  convinced,  humbled,  and  pardoned.  We 
cannot  wonder  that  the  love  of  Christ  was  the  constraining  motive 
of  his  conduct  from  that  time  to  the  end  of  his  life. 

Oh,  that  we  all  knew  the  need  and  the  worth  of  this  Saviour ! 
Then  we  should  all  love  bim  !  This  will  be  the  deciding  point  at 
last.  St.  Paul,  writing  by  inspiration  of  God,  says,  in  one  place, 
'^  Grace  be  with  all  them  that  love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  sin- 
cerity."* In  another  place,  under  the  same  influence,  he  denoun- 
ces  an  awful  sentence  against  those  who  love  bim  not :  *^  If  any 
man  love  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  let  him  be  anatbema."f  This 
was  by  no  means  the  apostle's  wish ;  he  would  willingly  have  been 
made  an  anathema  himself,  after  the  manner  of  Christ,|  if  be 
could  thereby  procure  the  salvation  of  his  enemies  who  sought 
bis  life  in  every  place.  But  be  declared  the  will  of  God,  that  if 
any  man,  who  hears,  or  might  hear,  the  record  that  God  has  giv- 
en of  bis  Son,  refuses  to  love  and  serve  him,  and  lives  and  dies  a 
stranger  to  his  love,  he  must,  he  will,  be  accursed !  for, 

II.  He  is  the  One,  the  mighty  One,  who  died  for  all.  The  sa-* 
crifices,  which  were  types  of  his  appearance  in  the  fulness  of  time 
to  put  away  sin  by  the  sacrifice  of  himself,  were  appropriated  for 
the  instruction  and  consolation  of  the  people  of  Israel.  But  now 
the  partition-wall  is  broken  down.  This  distinction  between  Jew 
and  Gentile  is  removed.  Jesus  died,  that  all,  of  every  age  and  na- 
tion, whether  high  or  low,  rich  or  poor,  bond  or  free,  who,  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth,  and  to  the  end  of  time,  should  believe  in  bis 
name,  might  live  through  him.  As  the  sun,  his  great  visible  em- 
blem, fills  every  eye  with  bis  light,  and  would  do  so,  were  tl|ey  as 
numerous  as  the  leaves  upon  the  trees,  or  the  blades  of  grass  in 
tbe  fields,  without  the  least  diminution  of  his  effulgence  ;  so  this 
Lord  God,  our  Saviour,  tbe  sun  of  the  intellectual  world,  is  the 
same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever.  Wherever  tbe  word  of  bis 
Gospel  is  known,  he  makes  it  his  power  to  tbe  salvation  of  all 

*  Ephes.  yi.  24.  f  1  Cor.  xvi.  £2.  i  Rom.  ix.  3. 


THE  LOVE  Ot  CHRIST.  533 

who  believe  on  him.  The  value  and  efficacy  of  his  atonement 
and  righteousness  are  inexhansttble.  It  is  true,  the  blind  are  in 
darkness  at  noon-day ;  but  this  Sun  of  Righteousness  not  only  af^ 
fords  light  to  those  who  can  see,  but  gives  sight  to  the  blind.  He 
invites  all  to  come  to  him  for  relief;  but  many  refuse  to  apply. 
They  prefer  darkness  to  light,  because  their  deeds  are  evil.  But 
all  who  seek  him,  and  wait  for  him,  in  the  way  of  his  appointment, 
are  graciously  accepted  ;  they  receive  their  sight ;  they  look  to 
him,  and  are  saved.  He  has  declared,  Him  that  cometh  I  will  in 
no  wise  cast  out,  whatever  their  former  characters  or  conduct 
may  have  been ;  but  they  who,  though  repeatedly  wooed  and 
warned,  will  not  come,  if  they  persist  in  their  obstinacy,  must  per- 
ish  [in  onbelief ;  for  he  is  sovereign  in  the  dispensation  of  h\s 
grace. 

If  One,  idhis  One,  the  only-beloved  Son  of  God,  died  thus  for 
all;  if  the  Lord  of  Glory  humbled  himself  to  assume  our  nature, 
and  became  obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross ;  it 
surely  must  be  for  some  very  important  design,  worthy  of  himself, 
and  which  he  alone  was  able  to  accomplish.  The  apostle  briefly 
states  the  necessity  and  urgency  of  the  case,  by  way  of  inference  r 
If  one  died  for  all,  then  were  all  dead.  The  Scripture  abundantly 
declares  the  state  of  fallen  man,  of  all  mankind,  to  be  a  state  of 
death.  We  are  all,  by  nature,  dead  in  a  twofold  sense  ;  dead  in 
laWf  and  dead  in  sin.  • 

When  a  criminal  has  been  tried,  convicted,  and  condemned  to 
death  in  a<:ourt  of  justice,  we  speak  of  him  as  a  dead  man,  though 
the  sentence  be  not  yet  executed,  and  the  king  has  th^  prerogative 
of  pardoning  him,  if  he  is  pleased  to  exercise  mercy.  We  indeed 
compare  great  things  with  small,  when  we  attempt  to  illustrate 
the  proceedings  of  God  with  men,  by  the  usages  which  obtain 
among  ourselves ;  yet,  in  some  respects,  they  are  often  apposite, 
and  the  Scripture  teaches  us  by  them. 

As  we  are  rational  creatures,  capable  of  knowing  our  Maker, 
and  our  dependence  upon  him  for  life,  and  breath,  and  all  things ; 
we  are  bound  to  love  God  with  all  our  hearts ;  to  devote  our 
strength,  power,  and  faculties  to  his  service,  to  obey  his  com* 
mands,  to  avoid  whatever  is  contrary  to  his  known  will,  to  believe 
bis  promises,  and  to  seek  our  happiness  in  his  favour.  This  is 
the  law  of  our  nature ;  it  is,  indeed,  the  law  of  all  created  intelli*^ 
gences,  whether  angels  or  men.  When  God  created  man  upright, 
in  his  own  image,  this  obedience  and  submission,  and  a  disposi- 
tion to  seek  his  supreme  delight  in  his  Maker,  were  as  natural  td 
him  as  it  is  for  a  fish  to  swim  or  a  bird  to  fly.  But  this  law  we 
have  broken.  We  are  now  depraved,  and  fallen  from  our  originat 
righteousness*    We  are  now  in  a  state  of  rebellion  against  Crod. 


524  THE   CONSTRAIIfINO   INFLUEHCE   Of 

We  renounce  his  authority,  violate  his  commands,  are  governed 
by  our  own  will,  and  seek  our  own  pleasure  and  glory,  distinct 
from,  and  in  opposition  to  the  will  and  glory  of  our  Creator  !  The 
law  which  we  have  broken  is  holy,  just,  and  good  ;*  and,  there* 
fore,  the  sentence  of  condemnation  denounced  against  the  trans- 
gressors is  righteous.  We  come  into  the  world  devoid  of  all  real 
goodness,  and  with  a  propensity  to  every  evil.  The  carnal  mind  is 
enmity  against  God.  The  heart  of  man,x>f  all  mankind  untvei-sally, 
is  deceitnil  and  desperately  wicked  ;  the  thoughts  of  men,  when 
compared  with  the  holy  law,  are  evil,  only  evil,  and  that  continually. t 
Thus  we  are  in  a  state  of  condemnation  ;  by  nature,  children  of 
wrath.  But  we,  through  the  mercy  and  long-suffering  of  God, 
are  fevoured  with  a  respite.  The  just  sentence  is  not  yet  execu- 
ted ;  and  the  Gospel  points  out  a  way  of  escape  and  deliverance. 
For  this  purpose  God  sent  forth  his  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth 
in  him  might  be  saved ;  but  he  that  believeth  not  is  condemned 
already.]: 

We  are  likewise  dead  in  sin.  We  partake,  with  the  brute  crea- 
'tion,  in  the  animal  life,  but  are  highly  distinguished  from  them  by 
the  rational  life.  There  is  likewibc  a  spiritual  life,  of  which  our 
first  parent  was  originally  possessed,  but  he  soon  lost  it.  In  ^his 
sense,  when  he  sinned  against  God,  he  died  instantly.  What  the 
poet  ascribes  to  Beelzebub,  is  true  of  man  ;  he  still  retains  some 
marks  of  his  pristine  greatness  ;  he  is  majestic,  though  in  ruins  ; 
he  is  aUve  as  to  th»  concerns  of  this  world,  and  his  attempts  and 
success  give  indications  of  his  native  dignity  ;  the  sciences  and  the 
fine  arts  exhibit  proofs  of  his  genius  and  ability  :  he  undertakes  to 
measure  the  earth,  to  weigh  the  air,  and  almost  to  number  and 
marshal  the  stars.  What  discoveries  have  been  made  in  geome- 
try, natural  history,  and  chemistry  !  What  powers  are  displayed 
in  architecture,  sculpture,  painting,  poetry,  and  music  !  But  with 
respect  to  the  concerns  of  his  immortal  soul,  and  the  great  realities 
of  the  unseen  world,  man,  by  nature,  is  dead -as  a  stone.  The 
dead  body  of  Lazarus  was  not  more  incapable  of  performing  the 
functions  of  common  life  than  we,  by  nature,  are  of  performing  one 
spiritual  act,  or  even  of  feeling  one  spiritual  desire  ;  till  He  who, 
by  his  commanding  word,  raised  Lazarus  from  the  grave,§  is  plea- 
sed, by  the  power  of  his  Holy  Spii-it,  to  raise  us  from  the  death  of 
sin  unto  a  new  life  of  righteousness.  He  who,  we  profess  to  be- 
lieve, will  one  day  come  to  be  our  judge,  has  assured  us,  that  ex- 
cept a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  even  see  the  kingdom  of 
'God. II  He  has  no  faculty  suited  to  the  perception  of  what  belongs 
either  to  the  kingdom  of  grace  upon  earth,  or  what  is  revealed  of 
the  kingdom  of  glory  in  heaven.     The  result  of  his  closest  rea- 

*Rom.vii.H.       fRom.viii.7.    Jer.xvii.  9.    Gen.vi.  5.      J  John,iii.  1«. 
<^  /ohn,  zi.  49.        H  John,  iu.  9. 


THE  LOVE   OF   CHRIST.  525 

sonings,  and  shrewdest  conjectures  upon  these  subjects,  leave  him 
in  utter  ignorance  and  darkness.  As  no  description  can  commu- 
nicate an  idea  of  sunshine  or  the  colours  of  a  rainbow  to  a  man 
bom  blind,  so  the  natural  man  cannot  discern  the  things  of  God, 
for  they  can  only  be  spiritually  discerned.* 

But  Jesus  died  and  rose  again.  As  our  surety,  he  sustained  the 
>  curse  of  the  law  to  deliver  us  from  condemnation  ;  and  when  he 
ascended  on  high,  to  appear  in  the  presence  of  God  for  us,  he  re- 
ceived gifts  for  rebellious  man,  eminently  the  gift  of  the  holy  Spi- 
rit, that  the  Lord  God  might  dwell  among  themut  Thus  the  pro- 
mise the  Lord  made  by  the  prophet  Ezekiel  is  fulfilled,  ^^  1  will  put 
my  Spirit  within  you  ;t  and  then  they  who  before  were  dead,  begin 
to  live. 

A  load  of  guilt  and  depravity  lies,  unfelt,  upon  the  dead  sinner ; 
but,  when  he  receives  the  priciple  of  a  new  life,  he  groans,  being 
burdened.  The  eyes  of  his  understanding  are  opened.  New, 
and,  till  then,  unthought-of  objects,  press  upon  his  notice.  The 
views  he  now  has  of  God,  of  himself,  and  of  eternity,  would  over- 
whelm him,  if  he  was  not  warranted  and  enabled  to  look  to  Jesus§ 
as  an  all-sufficient  and  gracious  Saviour.  From  that  hour  he  lives 
indeed  !  his  sins  are  pardoned,  his  fears  dispelled,  his  heart  beats 
with  love  and  gratitude.  Old  things  are  passed  away,  and  all 
things  are  become  new.  He  now  lives  no  more  to  himself,  but  to 
him  who  died  for  him  and  rose  again. 

III.  This  was  what  the  apostle  aimed  at,  and  expected  as  the 
result  and  the  reward  of  his  labours,  that  the  love  of  Him  who 
died  for  all  might  constrain  those  who  live,  to  live  no  more  to 
themselves,  but  to  Him. 

When  the  sinner,  who  was  too  long  governed  by  the  mean  and 
narrow  principle  of  self,  is  enabled  to  oelieve  in  Jesus  for  salva- 
tion, he  feels  the  force  of  the  apostle's  words.  Ye  are  bought  with 
a  price,  ye  are  no  longer  your  own  :  therefore  glorify  God  with 

Jour  b<x}y  and  your  spirit,  which  are  his.||  This  thought  expands 
is  mind  and  elevates  his  aims.  So  far  as  his  faith  is  in  exercise 
he  is  constrained  by  love,  inspired  by  gratitude,  and  animated  by 
confidence  and  hope,  to  live  no  more  to  himself,  but  to  Him  who 
loved  him,  and  gave  himself  for  him.  He  is  now  th^  devoted  ser- 
vant of  bis  l^rd,  is  governed  by  his  precepts  and  example,  and 
employs  his  time,  talents,  and  iniiuence,  to  promote  the  welfare  of 
bis  fellow-creatures  for  the  Lord's  sake. 

His  new  principles  have  this  effect  upon  him  in  whatever  situa- 
tion the  providence  of  God  places  him.  If  he  be  poor,  they  teach 
him  contentments  frugality,  and  industry  ;  if  rich,  he  is  moderate, 
condescending,  and  bountiful,  and  ready  for  every  good  work,  ei- 

*  1  Cor.  ii.  14.        f  Ps.  Ixviii.  18.        t  ^zek.  »x?i.  27.        1^  Isa.  xlv.  23. 
I  1  Cor.  ?i.  19, 20. 


^26  THE   COKSTRAIVIKO   IHrLUEVCt  OF 

thcr  to  promote  the  knowledge  of  the  Gospel,  or  to  relieve  the 
necessitous.  The  golden,  plain,  and  comprehensive  rule,  of  doing 
to  others  as  he  could  reasonably  wish  others,  in  similar  cases, 
would  do  unto  him,  is  inwrought  in  the  very  temper  and  habit  of 
his  mind.  In  a  word,  the  true  Christian,  whether  in  public  or  in 
private  life,  whether  a  husband  or  a  wife,  a  parent  or  a  child,  a 
master  or  a  servant ;  whether  possessed  of  rank  Und  wealth,  or 
appointed  by  the  providence  of  God  to  sweep  the  street  for  his 
subsistence,  in  all  stations  and  circumstances,  is  ambitious  to  let 
his  light  shine  before  men,  for  the  honour  of  God  ;  and  to  be  filled 
with  those  fruits  of  righteousness  which  are  by  Jesus  Christ  to  bis 
praise  and  glory. 

Should  these  effects  of  the  constraining  love  of  Christ  be  dispu- 
ted by  persons  of  any  candour,  we  could,  degenerate  as  the  pres- 
ent times  are,  refer  them  to  living  instances.  We  can  point  out  to 
them  persons  who  once  were  a  burden  to  themselves,  a  terror  to 
their  families,  a  nuisance  to  their  connexions,  who,  by  receiving 
the  truths  of  the  Gospel,  under  the  teaching  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
and  by  feeling  the  constraining  love  of  Christ,  are,  in  all  these  re- 
spects, become  new  creatures.  And  1  little  doubt  that  there  are 
those  now  before  me,  to  whom  I  may  say.  Such  were  some  of  you, 
but  ye  are  washed,  but  ye  are  sanctified,  but  ye  are  justified,  in 
the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  by  the  Spirit  of  our  God.* 

What  shall  we  then  say  of  the  attempts  of  modern  philosophers, 
fio  called,  who,  if  they  could  prevail  by  spreading  the  gloomy 
sophisms  of  infidelity,  would  deprive  mankind  of  that  light  and 
comfort  of  which  the  holy  Scripture,  given  by  inspiration  of  God, 
is  the  only  source  ?  But,  as  the  raging  waves  of  the  sea,  in  a  sUmn, 
make  no  impression  u))on  the  rock  against  which  they  successively 
dash  themaselves  into  foam,  and  die  away  at  its  foot,  so  their  most 
subtle,  laboured,  and  roalienant  efforts  to  suppress  the  glorious 
Gospel  of  the  blessed  God^l  will  only  issue  in  their  own  confusion. 
Magna  est  veritasy  et  prevalebiL  Truth  will  triumph  over  all  op- 
position. The  church  of  God,  composed  of  all  the  living  members 
.  of  that  body  of  which  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  the  living  head,  is 
founded  upon  a  rock,  against  which  the  gates  of  hell  bhall  nevef 
prevail.  There  will  always  be  a  people,  who,  animated  by  a 
sense  of  the  constraining  love  of  Christ,  will  bear  testimony  to  the 
power  of  his  grace,  and  give  evidence,  by  the  general  tenour  of 
their  conduct  in  life,  their  patience  and  peace  in  afiliction,  their 
love  to  their  fellow-creatures,  and  their  joyful  hopes  of  immor- 
tality when  fiesh  and  heart  are  fainting,  that  they  have  neither  fol- 
lowed cunningly  devised  fables,  nor  amused  themselves  with  empty 
notions  of  truth. 

*l  Cor.  vi.  11.  f  lTim.L|l. 


T!B£   LOVE   OF   CHRIST.  527 

It  is  upon  this  ground  that  I  am  encouraged  to  solicit  your  libe- 
ral assistance  to  the  school  of  Langboum  Ward.  I  seldom  say 
much  upon  these  occasions,  having  had  repeated  proofs  of  the 
generosity  of  my  stated  auditory,  and  no  reason  to  doubt  the  good 
will  and  concurrence  of  the  rest  of  my  hearers.  Let  the  sight  of 
the  childreir-before  you  plead  in  their  behalf.  The  institution  1 
am  now  to  recommend  will,  1  hope,  preserve  these  children,  and 
many  more  in  succession,  from  those  habits  of  idleness,  intempe- 
rance, and  profligacy,  which  too  frequently  mark  the  character  of 
those  who  are  destitute  of  instruction  and  education  in  their  early 

i^ears.  By  the  benefit  of  our  public  charity-schools,  and  particu- 
arly  of  this,  many  boys  have  been  trained  up  to  honesty,  sobriety, 
and  usefulness,  who  might  otherwise  have  been  nuisances  to  socie- 
ty ;  and  some  have  not  only  obtained  a  good  character  as  appren- 
tices and  servants,  but,  by  their  integrity  and  industry,  have  repu- 
tably risen  to  affluence  and  influence.  Could  all  the  children  of 
the  poor  be  thus  cared  for,  be  taught  the  first  principles  of  reli- 
gion, and  habituated  to  respect  the  Lord^s  Day,  and  to  attend  on 
public  worship,  it  is  probable  that  the  number  of  depredators  who 
infest  our  streets  and  roads,  or  break  into  houses,  and  end  their 
unhappy  lives  on  the  gallows,  would  be  much  diminished. 

The  awful  times  in  which  we  live,  render  these  institutions  pe* 
culiarly  worthy  of  attention  and  encouragement.  I  cannot  speak 
positively  from  my  own  knowledge,  but  I  liave  reason  to  believe 
that  the  abettors  of  the  French  principles  of  infidelity  ^nd  anarchy 
have  seminaries  where  children,  of  all  descriptions,  find  ready  and 
welcome  admission.  It  is  even  »m(i  that  they  are  paid  for  their 
attendance,  it  is,  however,  certain,  that  a  spirit  of  insubordina- 
tion, and  a  defiance  of  all  laws,  human  or  divine,  have  rapidly 
spread,  and  are  siill  rapidly  spreading,  aftong  the  lower  classes 
of  our  people.  The  liberty  and  equality  inculcated  in  these 
schools  is  not  like  that  which,  under  our  mild  and  equitable  laws, 
gives  every  person  an  equal  advantage  for  rising  in  life,  by  the 
proper  and  diligent  improvement  of  his  talents  ;  but  is  adapted  to 
confound  all  order  and  distinction,  and  to  reduce  us  to  the  com- 
mon level  of  a  savage  and  barbarous  state.  It  is  therefore  the 
common  interest  of  all,  and  especially  of  persons  of  property,  to 
exert  themselves  in  their  places  to  counteract  this  baneful  design. 

But  I  have  a  higher  consideration  to  propose  to  you,  who  know 
the  worth  of  souls,  and  have  felt  the  power  of  the  constraining 
love  of  Christ. 

When  a  child  is  born  that  is  heir  to  a  title  or  a  great  fortune, 
it  usually  causes^uch  joy  to  the  family,  and  much  congatulation 
from  their  friends*  The  birth  of  poor  children  is  less  noticed ; 
but  the  birth  of  any  child,  whether  of  a  prince  or  a  pauper,  is  an 
event  of  great,  yea,  of  equal  importance,  if  we  form  our  judgment 


528  tH£   COBESTRAimNO   INrLUENCE   OP 

by  the  standard  of  the  unerring  word  of  God  :  when  a  child  is 
born,  a  new  existence  begins,  which  will  never  end.  The  pres« 
ent  life  of  the  children  before  you  is  precarious,  but  their  souls  are, 
by  God^s  constitution  and  appointment,  ironiortaK  Perhaps  you 
may  see  them  no  more  upon  earth,  but  you  will  surely  meet  them 
again  at  the  great  day,  when  you,  and  I,  and  they,  must  all  stand 
before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ.  Though  education  alone  can- 
not convert  them,  it  is  in  the  number  of  those  means  which  God 
has  enjoined  us  to  use,  and  which  he  has  promised  to  bless  for  that 
purpose.  Happy  are  they  who  are  instrumental  in  saving  a  soul 
from  death  !  Happy  and  honoured  will  you  be,  from  a  senseof  his 
love,  who,  when  he  was  rich,  made  himself  poor  for  your  sakes,* 
you,  according  to  your  abilities,  imitate  his  example,  in  promoting 
the  welfare  of  your  fellow-creatures.  You  may  do  much  in  this 
way,  by  contributing  to  the  instruction  of  poor  children,  and  there- 
by shielding  them  from  the  snares  and  temptations  to  which  igno- 
rant and  neglected  youth  are  exposed.  You  know  not  but,  in  the 
day  of  final  award,  some  of  these  children  may  stand  with  you  on 
the  rieht  hand  of  our  Saviour  and  Judge,  and  you  may  hear  him 
say.  Inasmuch  as  you  did  it  to  the  least  of  these,  ye  did  it  unto 
roe!t 

Thus  much  in  behalf  of  the  school.  But  my  heart  is  too  much 
impressed  by  the  sight  of  this  numerous  and  respectable  auditory, 
and  by  my  sincere  regard  for  the  true  happiness  of  every  individ* 
ual  before  me,  to  permit  me  to  conclude  till.  I  have  addressed  you 
on  a  subject  of  more  general  concern.  I  am  not  preaching  to 
Jews  or  Mahometans,  but  to  professed  Christians.  I  am  willing 
to  take  it  for  granted,  that  we  all  agree  in  ac-knowledging  that  the  | 

Scripture,  the  whole  Scripture,  is  a  revelation  of  the  will  of  God.  , 

I  hope  there  is  not  a  person  here,  however  immersed  in  the  busi-  | 

ness,  or  drawn  aside  -by  the  amusements  and  pleasures,  of  the 
world,  who,  if  he  were  desired  to  throw  the  Bible,  with  delibera- 
tion and  contempt,  into  the  fire,  would  not  be  shocked  at  the  pro- 
posal. I  think  he  would  say.  If  I  have  not  paid  that  attention  to 
the  Bible  which  it  deserves,  yet  surely  I  am  not  so  wicked  and 

f presumptuous  as  to  burn  it.  But  permit  me  to  ask  you,  in  love, 
f  it  be  indeed  the  word  of  God,  why  have  you  not  paid  that  at- 
tention to  it  which  it  deserves  ?  The  same  reasons,  which  would 
deter  you  from  wilfully  throwing  it  into  the  fire,  should  induce  you 
to  study  it  carefully,  to  make  it  the  foundation  of  your  hope  and 
the  rule  of  your  life  ;  for,  if  it  be  indeed  the  word  of  God,  it  is  the 
rule  by  which  your  characters  will  be  decided,  and  your  everlast- 
ing state  fixed,  according  to  the  tenour  of  the  Gbspel,  which  pro- 
claims salvation  to  all  who  have  repentance  towards  God  and 
iaith  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  <o  those  only. 

•  %  Cor.  ?ia.  9.  f  Matt.  xxv.  40. 


TH£  LOTS  or  CREIBT. 


«s« 


It  1$  painful  to  a  serious  mind  to  observe  how  much  the  Bible  i« . 
neglected.  I  have  icnown  some  ^at  houses  in  which  this  book 
could  not  be  found.  In  others,  ii  it  has  a  place  in  the  library,  it  is 
seldom  removed  from  the  shelf.  Perhaps  there  is  no  book  so 
little  rcadj  understood^  or  regarded  as  the  book  of  God,  by  multi- 
tudes who  are  not  unwilling  to  be  called  Christians.  What  ao 
affront  is  this  to  the  Almighty  !  A  message  from  the  kin^,  or  an 
act  of  parliament,  engages  the  attention  of  those  who  are  interes* 
ted  in  the  subject-matter,  while  the  revealed  will  of  God,  our 
Creator,  compared  with  whom  all  the  kings,  nations,  and  inhabi- 
tants of  the  earth,  are  but  as  a  drop  of  water  to  the  sea,  or  the 
small  dust  upon  a  balance,  is  treated  with  indifference  ;  thoggh 
every  person  who  can  have  access  to  it,  is  deeply  and  equaUy 
interested  in  its  contents.  Should  thew  be  but  a  few  of  my  neaf 
ers  who,  through  their  engagements  and  pursuits  in  life,  have  hith« 
erto  been  remiss  and  negligent  in  acquainting  themselves  with  the 
principal  facts  and  truths  recorded  in  the  Bible,  neither  my  con^ 
science  nor  my  compassion  will  permit  me  to  close  my  discourse 
till  I  have  briefly  expostulated  with  them  ;  as  it  is  possible  I  may 
never  have  another  opportunity,  and  perhaps  the  providence  o(f 
God  has  brought  them  hither  this  morning  for  their  good. 

Whatever  difference  of  opinion  there  may  be  amongst  us  in 
other  respects,  we  are  universally  agreed  as  to  the  certainty  of 
death  and  the  uncertainty  of  life.  We  are  sure  that  all  must  die  ; 
and,  after  death,  if  the  Scriptures  be  true,  we  must  appear  before 
God  in  judgment.  Nor  have  we  any  warrant  to  assure  ourselves 
that  we  shall  live  to  the  end  of  the  present  year,  or  even  week* 
"  Boast  not  thyself  of  to-morrow,  for  thou  knowest  not  what  a  day 
may  bring  forth."*  We  often  read  or  he3r  of  sudden  deaths,  ana 
sometimes  of  those  who,  after  a  lingering  illness,  die  as  suddenly, 
to  their  owji  apprehensions  of  the  event,  as  if  they  had  died  by  m 
flash  of  lightning.  It  is  no  less  a  proof  than  a  fruit  of  that  deprav- 
ity which  the  Scripture  charges  upon  the  whole  human  race,  that 
men,  who  are  so  active  and  solicitous  in  managing  the  temporal, 
transient  affairs  of  time,  to  promote  what  they  conceive  most  to 
their  advantage,  should  be  totally  indifferent  to  what  may  be  their 
allotment  in  a  state  unchangeable  and  eternal ! 

Permit  me  briefly  to  remind  you,  that  the  Scripture  concludes 
us  all  under  ^n,  and  exposed  to  the  iust  displeasure  of  our  Great 
Creator,  Proprietor,  Lawgiver,  and  Benefactor.  He  formed  us 
for  himself,  and  gave  a  thirst  and  capacity  for  happiness  which 
only  himself  can  satisfy.  Our  relation  to  Him,  as  intelligent  crea- 
tures, who  live,  move,  and  have  our  being  in  Him,  and  cannot  sub- 
sist a  moment  without  Him,  binds  us  to  love  fi[im  supremely,  t# 

*Prov.  xxvii.  1. 
Vol.  IV.  67 


530  THE  CONSTRAINING   INFLUENCE,   &C. 

devote  all  our  powers  and  faculties  to  his  service.  This  is.lbe 
law  of  our  nature.  This  law  we  have  broken  ;  we  all  of  us  have 
lived  too  lone,  and  some  of  us  are  still  living,  without  God  in  the 
world.  We  have  made  our  own  will  and  our  own  gratification  the 
rule  and  end  of  our  conduct,  instead  of  his  will  and  glory.  We 
have  incurred  the  penalty  annexed  to  the  breach  of  this  law.  We 
are  sinners  :  the  waees  of  sin  is  death,  and  the  extent  of  that  sen* 
tence  is  everlasting  destruction  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord  and 
the  glory  of  his  power.  How  shall  we  escape  ?  What  shall  we  do 
to  be  saved  ? 

To  those  who  are  sensible  of  their  desert  and  danger,  the  Gos« 
pel  points  out  relief  and  a  refuse.  Jesus  invites  the  weary  and 
Duraened  sinner,  and  says,  ^^  Him  that  cometb,  I  will  in  no  wise 
cast  out.''  You  have  heard  something  of  his  glorious  person, 
power,  authority,  and  love.  He  is  able,  he  is  willing,  he  has  pro- 
mised to  save,  to  the  uttermost,  all  that  come  to  God  by  Him. 
Oh  that  to-day  you  may  hear  his  voice,  and  comply  with  his  invi- 
tation !  If  you  cordially  receive  the  record  which  God  has,  by  his 
own  voice  from  heaven,  given,  "  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom 
I  am  well  pleased  !"  He  will,  for  his  sake,  be  well  pleased  with 
you  ;  if  you  approve  of  this  way  of  salvation,  in  which  justice 
and  mercy  harmonize,  which  ascribes  all  the  glory  to  God,  teaches 
us  to  hate  sin,  and  inspires  the  love  of  holiness,  as  essential  to 
happiness,  then  this  Saviour,  and  all  the  fulness  of  his  salvation, 
will  assuredly  be  yours.  You  will  then  jenounce  every  other 
hope,  you  will  no  longer  trust  or  boast  in  yourselves,  but  you  will 
have  a  good  warrant  to  boast  and  glory  in  your  Saviour,  and  to 
say.  In  tne  Lord  I  have  righteousness  and  strength.  The  Lord 
is  my  shepherd,  therefore  1  shall  not  want,  I  need  not  fear  ;  he 
will  support  me  by  his  arm,  cheer  me  with  his  presence,  protect 
me  by  his  power,  guide  me  by  his  counsels,  and  afterwards  receive 
me  to  glory! 


THOUGHTS 

UPON    THE 


tf  ATTHEW,  Vii.  1*4  ^ 

All  things  whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye  eveo  so  CO 
them  :  for  this  is  the  law  and  the  ptophets. 

HOMO  sutf  — 


THOUGHTS 

DPOH  TBB 

AFRICAN  SLAVE-TRADE. 


Th£  nature  and  effects  of  that  unhappy  and  disgraceful  branch 
of  commerce,  which  has  long  been  maintained  on  the  coast  of  Af- 
rica, with  the  sole  and  professed  destgo  of  purchasing  our  fellow- 
creatures,  in  order  to  supply  our  West-India  islands,  and  the  Ame- 
rican colonies,  when  they  were  ours,  with  slaves,  is  now  generally 
understood.  So  much  light  has  been  thrown  upon  the  subject  by 
many  able  pens  ;  and  so  many  respectable  persons  have  already 
engaged  to  use  their  utmost  influence  for  the  suppression  of  a  traf- 
fic which  contradicts  the  feelings  of  humanitjr,  that  it  is  hoped  this 
stain  of  our  national  character  will  be  soon  wiped  out. 

If  I  attempt,  after  what  has  been  done,  to  throw  my  mite  into  tho 
public  stock  of  infoi*mation,  it  is  less  from  an  apprehension  that  my 
interference  is  necessary,  than  from  a  conviction  that  silence,  at  such 
time  and  ou  such  an  occasion,  would,  in  me  be  criminal.  If  my 
testimony  should  not  be  necessary  or  serviceable,  yet,  perhaps,  I 
am  bound  in  conscience  to  take  shame  to  myself  by  a  public  con- 
fession, which,  however  sincere,  comes  too  late  to  prevent  or 
repair  the  misery  and  mischief  to  which  I  have,  formerly,  been 
accessary. 

I  hope  it  will  always  be  a  subject  of  humiliating  reflection  to  me, 
that  I  was  once  an  active  instiniment  in  a  business  at  which  my 
heart  now  shudders.  My  headstrong  passions  and  follies  plunged 
me,  in  early  life,  into  a  succession  of  difficulties  knd  hardships, 
which,  at  length,  reduced  me  to  seek  a  refuge  among  the  natives 
of  Africa.  There,  for  about  the  space  of  eignteen  months,  I  was, 
in  effect,  though  without  the  name,  a  captive,  and  a  slave  myself ; 
and  was  depressed  to  the  lowest  degree  of  human  wretchedness. 
Possibly  I  should  not  have  been  so  completely  miserable,  had  I 
lived  among  the  natives  only,  but  it  was  my  lot  to  reside  with  white 
men  ;  for  at  that  time  several  persons  of  my  own  colour  and  lan- 

faage  were  settled  upon  that  part  of  the  Windward  coast  which 
e»  l)etween  Sierra  Leone  ana  Cape  Mount ;  for  the  purpose  of 
purchasing  and  collecting  slaves,  to  sell  to  the  vessels  tnat  arrived 
irom^  Europe. 


J 


634  tBOUOHTg   ttFttt  THB 

This  ig  a  bourn  from  which  few  travellers  return  who  have  o&c6 
determined  to  venture  upon  a  temporary  residence  there  ;  but  the 
good  providence  of  God,  without  my  expectation,  and  almost 
against  my  will,  delivered  me  from  those  scenes  of  wickedness 
and  wo  ;  and  I  arrived  at  Liverpool  in  May  1748.  I  soon  revis- 
ited the  place  of  my  captivity,  as  mate  of  a  ship,  and,  ii>  the  year 
1750, 1  was  appointed  commander;  in  which  capacity  I  made 
three  voyages  to  the  Windward  coast  for  slaves. 

I  first  saw  the  coast  of  Guinea,  in  the  year  1745,  and  took  my 
last  leave  of  it  in  1754.  It  was  not,  intentionally,  a  farewell ; 
but,  through  the  mercy  of  God,  it  proved  so.  I  fitted  out  for  a 
fourth  voyage,  and  was  upon  the  point  of  sailing,  when  I  was  ar- 
rested by  a  sudden  illness,  and  I  resigned  the  ship  to  anodier 
captain. 

Thus  I  was  unexpectedly  freed  from  this  disagreeable  service. 
Disagreeable  I  had  long  found  it ;  but  I  think  I  should  have  quit- 
ted it  sooner,  had  I  considered  it  as  I  now  do,  to  be  unlawful  and 
wrong.  But  I  never  had  a  scr4iple  upon  this  head  at  the  time ; 
nor  was  such  ^  thought  once  suggested  to  me  by  any  friend. 
What  I  did  I  did  ignorantly ;  considering  it  as  the  line  of  life 
which  divine  providence  had  allotted  me,  and  having  no  concem 
in  point  of  conscience,  but  to  treat  the  slaves  while  under  my  care, 
with  as  much  humanity  as  a  regard  to  my  own  safety  would 
admit. 

The  experience  and  observation  of  nine  years,  would  qualify 
me  for  being  a  competent  witness  upon  this  subject,  could  I  safe- 
ly trust  to  the  report  of  memory,  after  an  interval  of  more  than 
thirty-three  years.  But  in  the  course  of  so  long  a  period,  the 
ideas  of  past  scenes  and  transactions  grow  indistinct ;  and  I  am 
aware,  that  what  I  have  seen,  and  what  I  have  only  heard  relat- 
ed, may,  by  this  time,  have  become  so  insensibly  blended  togeth- 
er, that,  in  some  cases,  it  may  be  difficult  for  me,  if  not  iropossible^ 
to  distinguish  them  with  absolute  certainty.  It  is,  however,  my 
eaiuest  desire,  and  will  therefore  engage  my  utmost  care,  that  I  , 
may  ofier  nothing  in  writing,  as  from  my  own  knowledge,  w(^icb 
I  could  not  cheerfully,  if  requisite,  confirm  upon  oath. 

That  part  of  the  African  shore,  which  lies  between  the  river 
Sierra  Le^ne,  lat.  8^  ^0'  N.  and  Cape  Palmas,  is  usually  known 
by  the  name  of  the  Windward,  or  Grain  Coast.  The  extent  (if  my 
recollection  does  not  fail  me)  is  about  one  hundred  and  fifty 
leagues.  There  is  a  fort  upon  Benee  Island,  in  Sierra  Leone, 
which  formerly  belonged  to  the  old  African  Company  !  they  also 
had  a  fort  on  an  island  in  the  river  Sherbro  ;  but  the  former  was 
in  private  hands,  and  of  the  latter,  scarcely  the  foundations  were 
visible  when  I  first  went  to  Africa.     There  is  ao  fort  or  factory 


AFRICAN    SlidLVI-TRADfi.  335 

upon  tbift  coast,  under  the  sanction  of  our  government ;  but  there 
were,  as  I  have  said,  and  probably  still  are,  private  traders  resi- 
dent at  Benee  Island,  at  the  Bananoes,  and  at  the  Plantaoes. 
The  former  of  these  is  about  twelve,  and  the  latter  twenty  leagues, 
from  Sierra  Leone  to  the  south-east. 

By  these  persons  the  trade  is  carried  on,  in  boats  and  shallops, 
thirty  or  forty  leagues  to  the  northward,  in  several  rivers  lying 
within  the  shoals  of  Rio  Grande.  But  the  most  northerly  place 
of  trade  for  shipping  is  Sierra  Leone,  and  the  business  there,  and 
in  that  neighbourhood,  is  chiefly  transacted  with  the  white  men  ; 
but  from  Sherbro  to  Cape  Palmas,  directly  with  the  natives. 
Though  I  have  been  on  the  Gold  Coast,  ahd  beyond  it  as  far  as 
Cape  Lopez,  in  the  latitnde  of  one  or  two  degrees  south,  I  profesd 
Do.knowled^eof  the  African  trade,  but  as  it  was  conducted  on  the 
Windward  Coast  when  I  was  concerned  in  it. 

I  am  not  qualified,  and  if  I  were,  1  should  think  it  rather  un- 
suitable to  my  present  character  as  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  to 
consider  the  African  Slave-Trade  merely  in  a  political  light. 
This  disquisition  more  properly  belongs  to  persons  in  civil  life. 
Only  thus  far  my  character  as  a  minister  will  allow  and  perhaps 
reqntre  me  to  observe,  that  the  best  human  policy  Is  that  which  is 
connected  with  a  reverential  regard  to  Almighty  God,  the  su- 
preme governor  of  the  earth.  Every  plan  which  aims  at  the 
welfare  of  a  nation,  in  defiance  of  his  authority  and  laws,  however 
apparently  wise,  will  prove  to  be  essentially  defective,  and,  if  per- 
sisted in,  minous.  The  righteous  Lord  loveth  righteousness,  and 
he  has  engaged  to  plead  the  cause  and  vindicate  the  wrongs  of  the 
oppressed.  It  is  righteousness  that  exalteth  a  nation  !  and  wick- 
edness is  the  present  reproach,  and  will,  sooner  or  later,  unless 
repentance  intervene,  prove  the  ruin  of  any  people.  Perhaps 
what  I  have  said  of  myself  may  be  applicable  to  the  nation  at 
large.  The  slave-trade  was  always  unjustifiable  ;  but  inattention 
and  interest  prevented,  for  a  time,  the  evil  from  being  perceived. 
It  is  otherwise  at  present ;  the  mischiefs  and  evils  connected 
with  it  have  been,  of  late  years,  represented  with  such  undeniable 
evidence,  and  are  now  so  generally  known,  that  I  suppose  there  is 
hardly  an  objection  can  be  made  to  the  wish  of  thousands,  per- 
haps of  millions,  for  the  suppression  of  this  trade,  but  upon  the 
ground  of  political  ei^pedience. 

Though  i  were  even  sure  that  a  principal  branch  of  the  public 
revenue  depended  upon  the  African  trade,  (which  I  apprehend  is 
far  from  being  the  case,)  if  I  had  acoess  and  influence,  I  should 
think   mjmelf  bound  to  say  to  government,  to  Parliament,  and 


586  THOUGHTS   UPON   THE 

to  th^  nation,  "  U 19  not  lawful  to  pot  it  into  the  treasury,  becaose 
it  is  the  price  of  blood."* 

I  account  an  intelligent  farmer  to  be  a  good  politician  in  this 
sense  ;  that  if  he  has  a  large  heap  of  good  cprUi  he  will  not  put  a 
small  quantity,  that  is  damaged,  to  the  rest,  for  the  sake  of  in- 
creasing the  heap.  He  knows  that  such  an  addition  would  spoil 
the  whole.  God  forbid  that  any  supposed  profit  or  advantage 
which  we  can  derive  from  the  groans,  and  agonies,  and  blood,  of 
the  poor  Africans,  should  draw  down  his  heavy  corse  upon  all 
that  we  might,  otherwise,   honourably  and  comfortably  possess. 

For  the  sake  of  method,  I  could  wish  to  consider  the  African 
trade — first,  with  regard  to  the  efiect  it  has  upon  our  own  people ; 
«Lnd,  secondly,  as  it  concerns  the  blacks,  or,  as  they  are  mere 
contemptuously  styled,  the  negro  slaves,  whom  we  purchase  upon 
the  coast.  But  these  two  topics  are  so  interwoven  together,  that 
it  will  not  be  easy  to  keep  them  exactly  separate. 

I.  The  first  point  I  shall  mention  is  surely  of  political  impor- 
tance, if  the  lives  of  our  fellow-subjects  be  so  ;  and  if  a  rapid  loss 
of  seamen  deserves  the  attention  of  a  maritime  people*  This  loss 
in  the  African  trade  is  truly  alarming.  I  admit  that  many  of 
them  are  cut  offin  their  first  voyage,  and  consequently,  before  tbey 
can  properly  rank  as  seamen ;  though  they  would  have  been  sea- 
men if  they  had  lived.  But  the  neighbourhood  of  our  sea-ports 
is  continually  drained  of  men  and  boys  to  supply  the  places  of 
those  who  die  abroad  ;  and  if  they  are  not  all  seamen,  they  are  all 
our  brethren  and  countrymen,  subjects  of  the  British  govern* 
ment. 

The  people  who  remain  on  ship-board,  upon  the  coast,  if  not 
accustomed  to  the  climate,  are  liable  to  the  attack  of  an  inflam- 
matory fever,  which  is  not  often  fatal  unless  the  occurrence  of  un- 
favourable circumstances  makes  it  so.  When  this  danger  is  over, 
I  think  they  might  probably  be  as  healthy  as  in  most  other  voy- 
ages, provided  they  could  be  kept  from  sleeping  in  the  dews,  firom 
being  much  exposed  to  the  rain,  firom  the  intemperate  use  of 
spirits,  and  especially  from  women. 

But,  considering  the  general  disposition  of  our  sailors,  and  tbe 
nature  of  the  slave-trade,  these  provisos  are  of  little  more  sigoifi-^ 
cance  than  if  I  should  say,  upon  another  occasion,  that  Great 
Britain  would  be  a  happy  country,  provided  all  the  inhabitants 
were  wise  and  good.  The  sailors  must  be  much  exposed  to  the 
weather ;  especially  on  the  Windward  coast,  where  a  great  part  of 
the  cargo  is  procured  by  boats,  which  are  often  sent  to  the  dis- 
tance of  thirty  or  forty  leagues,  and  are  sometimes  a  month  be* 

*  Matt,  xxvii,  6. 


ATBICASr    SLATE-TRADE.  537 

fore  they  return.  Many  vessels  arrive  upon  tlie  coast  before 
the  rainy  season  (which  continaes  from  about  May  to  October)  is 
over;  and  if  trade  be  scarce,  the  ships  which  arrive  in  the  fair  or 
dry  season,  often  remain  till  the  rains  return,  before  they  can  com- 
plete their  purchase.  A  proper  shelter  from  the  weather,  in  an 
open  boat,  when  the  rain  is  incessant,  night  and  day,  for  weeks 
and  months,  is  imprncticable. 

I  have,  myself,  in  such  a  boat,  been  five  or  six  days  together, 
without,  as  we  say,  a  dry  thread  about  me,  sleeping  or  waking. 
And,  during  the  fair  season,  tornadoes,  or  violent  storms  of  wind, 
thunder,  and  heavy  rain,  are  very  frequent,  though  they  seldom 
last  long.  In  fact,  the  boats  seldom  return  without  bringing  some 
of  the  people  ill  of  dangerous  fevers  or  fluxes,  occasioned  either 
by  the  weather,  or  by  unwholesome  diet,  such  as  the  crude  fruits 
and  palm  wine,  with  which  they  are  plentifully  supplied  by  the 
natives. 

Strong  liquors,  such  as  brandy,  rum,  or  English  spirits,  the 
sailors  cannot  often  procure  in  such  quantities  as  to  hurt  them ; 
but  they  will  if  they  can  ;  and  opportunities  sometimes  offer,  espe- 
cially to  those  who  are  in  boats  :  for  strong  liquor  being  an  ar- 
ticle much  in  demand,  so  that  without  it  scarcely  a  single  slave 
can  be  purchased,  it  is  always  at  hand.  And  if  what  is  taken 
from  the  casks  or  bottles  that  are  for  sale,  be  supplied  with  water, 
tliey  are  as  full  as  they  were  before.  The  blacks  who  buy  the  li- 
quor, are  the  losers  by  the  adulteration  ;  but  often  the  people 
who  cheat  them  are  the  greatest  sufferers. 

The  article  of  women,  likewise,  contributes  largely  to  the  loss 
of  our  seamen.  When  they  are  on  shore,  they  often,  from  their 
known  thoughtless  imprudence,  involve  themselves,  on  this  ac- 
count, in  quarrels  with  the  natives,  and,  if  not  killed  upon  the  spot, 
are  frequently  poisoned.  On  ship-board  they  may  be  restrained, 
and  in  some  ships  they  are ;  but  such  restraint  is  far  from  being 
general.  It  depends  much  upon  the  disposition  and  attention  of 
the  captain.  When  I  was  in  the  trade  I  knew  several  comman- 
ders of  African  ships  who  were  prudent  respectable  men,  and  who 
maintained  a  proper  discipline  and  regularity  in  their  vessels  ; 
but  there  were  too  many  of  a  diflerent  character.  In  some  ships, 
perhaps  in  the  most,  the  license  allowed,  in  this  particular,  was 
almost  unlimited.  Moral  turpitude  was  seldom  considered,  but 
they  who  took  care  to  do  the  ship's  business,  might,  in  other  re- 
spects, do  what  they  pleased.  These  excesses,  if  they  do  not  in- 
duce fevers,  at  least  render  the  constitution  less  able  to  support 
them  ;  and  lewdness,  too  frequently,  terminates  with  death. 

The  risk  of  insurrection  is  to  be  added.  These,  I  believe,  are 
always  meditated  ;  for  the  men  slaves  are  not  easily  reconciled  ta 

Vol.  IV.  68 


938  THOUGHTS    UPON   TUB 

their  confioement  and  treatment ;  and,  if  attempted,  they  are  sel- 
dom suppressed  without  considerable  loss ;  and  sometimes  they 
succeed,  to  the  destruction  of  a  whole  ships  company  at  once. 
Seldom  a  year  passes,  but  we  bear  of  one  or  more  such  catastro- 
phes  ;  and  we  likewise  hear,  sometimes,  of  Whites  and  Blacks  in- 
volved, in  one  moment,  in  one  common  ruin,  by  the  gunpowder 
taking  fire,  and  blowing  up  the  ship. 

How  far  the  several  causes  I  have  enumerated  may  respective- 
ly operate,  I  cannot  say  ;  the  fact,  however,  is  sure,  that  a  great 
number  of  our  seamen  perish  in  the  slave-trade.  Few  ships, 
comparatively,  are  either  blown  up,  or  totally  cut  ofi* ;  but  some 
are.  Of  the  rest  I  have  known  some  that  have  lost  half  their  peo- 
ple, and  some  a  larger  proportion.  I  am  far  from  saying  that  H 
is  always,  or  even  often,  thus  ;  but,  I  believe  1  shall  state  the  mat- 
ter sufficiently  low,  if  I  suppose,  that  at  least  one  fifth-part  of 
those  who  go  from  England  to  the  coast  of  Africa,  in  ships  which 
trade  for  slaves,  never  return  from  thence.  I  dare  not  depend  too 
much  upon  my  memory,  as  to  the  number  of  ships  and  men  em- 
ployed in  the  slave-trade  more  than  thirty  years  ago  ;  nor  do  F 
know  what  has  been  the  state  of  the  trade  since ;  therefore  I  shall 
not  attempt  to  make  calculations.  But,  as  I  cannot  but  form 
some  opinion  upon  the  subject,  1  judge  it  probable  that  the  col- 
lective sum  of  seamen,  who  go  from  all  our  ports  to  Africa  with- 
in the  course  of  a  year,  (taking,  Guinea  in  the  extensive  sense, 
from  Goree  or  Gambia,  and  including  the  coast  of  Angola,)  can- 
not be  less  than  eight  thousand  ;  and  if,  upon  an  average  of  ships 
and  seasons,  a  fifth  part  of  Uiese  die,  the  annual  loss  is  fifteen 
hundred.  I  believe  those  who  have  taken  pains  to  make  more 
exact  inquiries,  will  deem  my  supposition  to  be  very  moderate. 

Thus  much  concerning  the  first  evil,  the  loss  of  seamen  and 
subjects,  which  the  nation  sustains  by  the  African  slave-trade. 

2.  There  is  a  second,  which  either  is,  or  ought  to  be,  deemed 
of  importance,  considered  in  a  political  light ;  I  mean  the  dread- 
ful effects  of  this  trade  upon  the  minds  of  those  who  are  engaged 
in  it.  There  are,  doubtless,  exceptions  ;  and  I  would  willingly 
except  myself.  But,  in  general,  I  know  of  no  method  of  getting 
money,  not  even  that  of  robbing  for  it  upon  the  highway,  which 
have  so  direct  a  tendency  to  efface  the  moral  sense,  to  rob  the 
heart  of  every  gentle  and  humane  disposition,  and  to  harden  it, 
like  steel,  against  all  impressions  of  sensibility. 

Usually,  about  two-thirds  of  a  cari^o  of  slaves  are  males. 
When  a  hundred  and  fifty  or  two  hundred  stout  men,  torn  from 
their  aative  land,  many  of  whom  never  saw  the  sea,  much  less  a 
ship,  till  a  short  space  before  they  are  embarked  :  who  have, 
probably  the  same  natural  prejudice  against  a  white  man  as  we 


AFRICAN    SLAVE-TRADE.  539 

haVe  against  a  black  ;  and  who  oflen  bring  -with  them  an  appre-' 
heosion  they  arc  bought  to  be  eaten  :  I  say,  when  thus  circum- 
stanced, it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  they  will  tamely  resign  them- 
selves to  their  situation*  It  is  always  taken  for  granted,  Uiat  they 
will  attempt  to  gain  iheir  liberty  if  possible.  Accordingly,  as  we 
dare  not  trust  them,  we  receive  them  on  board,  from  the  first,  as 
enemies ;  and,  l^eforc  their  number  exceeds,  perhaps,  ten  orfitteen, 
they  are  ail  put  in  irons  ;  in  most  ships,  two  and  two  together.  And 
frequently  they  are  not  thus  confined,  as  they  might  most  con- 
veniently stand  or  move,  the  right  hand  and  foot  of  one  to  the  lefl 
of  the  other,  but  across  ;  that  is,  the  hand  and  foot  of  each  on  the 
same  side,  whether  right  or  left,  are  fettered  together  :  so  that  they 
cannot  move  either  hand  or  foot,  but  with  great  caution,  and  witli 
perfect  consent.  Thus  they  must  sit,  walk,  and  lie,  for  many 
months,  (sometimes  for  nine  or  ten,)  without  any  mitigation  or 
relief  unless  they  are  sick. 

In  the  night,  they  are  conBned  below  ;  in  the  day-time,  (if  the 
weather  be  fine,)  they  are  upon  deck  ;  and  as  they  are  brought 
by  pairs,  a  chain  is  put  through  a  ring  upon  their  irons,  and  this  is 
likewise  locked  down  to  the  ring-bolts,  which  are  fastened  at  cer- 
tain intervals,  upon  the  deck.  These,  and  other  precautions,  are 
no  more  than  necessary  ;  especially,  as  while  the  number  of  slaves 
increases,  that  of  the  people  who  are  to  guard  them,  is  diminished 
by  sickness,  or  death,  or  by  being  absent  in  the  boats  :  so  that 
sometimes  not  ten  men  can  be  mustered  to  watch,  night  and  day, 
over  two  hundred,  besides  having  all  the  other  business  of  the 
ship  to  attend. 

That  these  precautions  are  so  often  efTcctuaj,  is  much  more  to 
be  wondered  at,  than  that  they  sometimes  fail.  One  unguarded 
hour,  or  minute,  is  sufficient  to  give  the  slaves  the  opportunit)^ 
they  are  always  waiting  for.  An  attempt  to  rise  ujpon  tne  ship^s 
company,  brings  on  instantaneous  and  horrid  war :  lor,  when  they 
are  once  in  motion,  they  are  desperate  ;  and  where  they  do  not 
conquer,  they  are  seldom  quelled  without  much  mischief  and 
bloodshed  on  both  sides. 

Sometimes,  when  the  slaves  are  ripe  for  an  insurrection,  one  of 
them  will  impeach  the  affair  ;  and  then  necessity,  and  the  state 
policy,  of  these  small  but  most  absolute  governments,  enforce 
maxims  directly  contrary  to  the  nature  of  things.  The  traitor  to  the 
cause  of  liberty  is  caressed,  rewarded,  and  deemed  an  honest  fel- 
low. The  patriots,  who  formed  and  animated  the  plan,  if  Ihey  can 
be  found  out,  must  be  treated  as  viltians,  and  punished,  to  intimi- 
date the  rest.  These  punishments,  in  their  nature  and  degree,  de- 
pend upon  the  sovereign  will  of  the  captain.  Some  are  content 
with  inflicting  such  moderate  punishment  as  may  suffice  for  an 
example,    fiut  unlimited  power,  instigated  by  revenge,  and  where 


540  THOUGHTS    UPON   TH£ 

the  heart,  by  a  long'familiarity  with  the  suflerings  of  slaves,  is 
become  callous,  and  iosensible  to  the  pleadings  of  humanity^  is 
terrible ! 

I  have  seen  them  sentenced  to  unmerciful  whippings,  continued 
till  the  poor  creatures  have  not  bad  power  to  groan  under  their 
misery,  and  hardly  a  sign  of  life  has  remained,  i  have  seen  them 
agonizing  for  hours,  I  believe  for  days  together,  under  the  torture 
of  the  thumb-screws  ;  a  dreadful  engine,  which,  if  the  screw  be 
turned  by  an  unrelenting  hand,  can  give  intolerable  anguish. 
There  have  been  instances  in  which  cruelty  has  proceeded  still 
further  ;  but,  as  I  hope  they  are  few,  and  I  can  mention  but  one 
from  my  own  knowledge,  J  shall  but  mention  it. 

I  have  often  heaixl  a  captain,  who  has  been  long  since  dead, 
boast  of  his  conduct  in  a  former  voyage,  when  his  slaves  attempt- 
ed to  rise  upon  him.  After  he  had  suppressed  the  insurrection, 
he  sat  in  judgment  upon  the  insurgents  ;  and  not  only,  in  cold 
blood,  adjudged  several  of  them,  I  know  not  how  many,  to  die, 
but  studied,  with  no  small  attention,  how  to  make  death  as  excru- 
ciating as  possible.  For  my  reader's  sake  1  suppress  the  recital 
of  particulars. 

Surely  it  must  be  allowed,  that  they  who  are  long  conversant 
with  such  scenes  as  these,  are  liable  to  imbibe  a  spirit  of  ferocious- 
ness, and  savage  insensibility,  of  which  human  nature,  depraved 
as  it  is,  is  not,  ordinarily,  capable.  If  these  things  be  true,  the 
reader  will  admit  the  possibility  of  a  fact  that  was  in  current  re- 
port when  I  was  upon  the  coast,  and  the  truth  of  which,  though  I 
cannot  now  authenticate  it,  I  have  no  reason  to  doubt. 

A  mate  of  a  ship,  in  a  long  boat,  purchased  a  young  woman, 
with  a  fine  child,  of  about  a  year  old,  in  her  arms.  In  the  night 
the  child  cried  much,  and  disturbed  his  sleep.  He  rose  up  in  great 
an^er,  and  swore,  that  if  the  child  did  not  cease  making  such  a 
noise,  he  would  presently  silence  it.  The  child  continued  to  cry. 
At  length  he  rose  up  a  second  time,  tore  the  child  from  the  mo- 
ther, and  threw  it  into  the  sea.  The  child  was  soon  silenced  in- 
deed, but  it  was  not  so  easy  to  pacify  the  woman  :  she  was  too 
valuable  to  be  thrown  overboard,  and  he  was  obliged  to  bear  the 
sound  of  her  lamentations  till  he  could  put  her  on  board  his  ship. 

I  am  persuaded  that  every  tender  mother,  who  feasts  her  eyes 
and  her  mind  when  she  contemplates  the  infant  in  her  arms,  will 
commiserate  the  poor  Africans.  But  why  do  I  speak  of  one  chiU, 
when  we  have  heard  and  read  a  melancholy  story,  too  notoriously 
true  to  admit  of  contradiction,  of  more  than  a  hundred  grown 
slaves,  thrown  into  the  sea,  at  one  time,  from  on  board  a  ship, 
when  fresh  water  was  scarce ;  to  fix  the  loss  upon  the  underwri- 
ters, which  otherwise,  had  they  died  on  board,  must  have  fallen 
upon  the  owners  of  the  vessel.     These  instances  are  specigiens 


AFRICAN  SLAVK-TRADIC.  341 

of  the  spirit  produced,  by  the  African  trade,  in  men  who  once  were 
no  more  destitute  of  the  milk  of  human  kindness  than  ourselves. 

Hitherto  I  have  considered  the  condition  of  the  men  slaves 
only.  From  the  women  there  is  no  danger  of  insurrection,  and 
they  are  carefully  kept  from  the  men  ;  I  mean,  from  the  black 
men.  But  in  what  I  have  to  ofier,  on  this  head,  1  am  far  from  io- 
cluding  every  ship.  I  speak  nof  of  what  is  universally,  but  of 
what  is  too  commonly,  and,  I  am  afraid,  too  generally,  prevalent. 

I  have  already  observed  that  the  captain  of  aq  African  ship, 
while  upon  the  coast,  is  absolute  in  his  command ;  and  if  he  be 
humane,  vigilant,  and  determihed,  he  has  it  in  his  power  to  pro- 
tect the  miserable  :  for  scarcely  any  thing  can  be  done,  on  board 
the  ship,  without  his  permission,  or  connivance.  But  this  power 
is  too  seldom  exerted  in  favour  of  the  poor  women  slaves. 

When  we  hear  of  a  town  taken  by  storm,  and  given  up  to  the 
ravages  of  an  enraged  and  licentious  army  of  wild  and  unprinci- 
pled cossacks,  perhaps  no  part  of  Ctie  distress  affects  a  feeling 
mind  more  than  the  treatment  to  which  the  women  are  exposed. 
But  the  enormities  frequently  committed  in  an  African  ship,  though 
equally  flagrant,  are  little  known  Aere,  and  are  considered  tAere, 
only  as  matters  of  course.  When  the  women  and  girls  are  taken 
on  board  a  ship,  naked,  trembling,  terrified,  perhaps  almost  ex- 
hausted with  cold,  fatigue,  and  hunger,  they  are  often  exposed  to 
the  wanton  rudeness  of  white  savages*  x  he  poor  creatures  can- 
not understand  the  language  they  hear,  but  the  looks  and  manners 
of  the  speakers  are  sufficiently  intelligible.  In  imagination,  the 
prey  is  divided,  upon  the  spot,  and  only  reserved  till  opportunity 
ofiers.  Where  resistance,  or  refusal,  would  be  utterly  in  vain, 
^ven  the  solicitation  of  consent  Is  seldom  thought  of.  But  t  for- 
bear. This  is  not  a  subject  for  declamation.  Pacts  like  these,  so 
certain  and  so  numerous,  speak  for  themselves.  Surely,  if  the 
advocates  for  the  Slave-Trade  attempt  to  plead  for  it,  before  the 
wives  and  daughters  of  our  happy  land,  or  before  those  who  have 
wives  or  daughters  of  their  own,  they  must  lose  their  cause. 

Perhaps  some  hard-hearted  pleader  may  suggest  that  such  treat- 
ment would,  indeed,  be  cruel  in  Europe  ;  but  the  African  women 
are  negroes,  savages,  who  have  no  idea  of  the  nicer  sensations 
which  obtain  among  civilized  people.  I  dare  contradict  them  in 
the  strongest  terms.  1  have  lived  long,  and  conversed  much, 
amongst  these  supposed  savages.  I  have  often  slept  in  their 
towns,  in  a  house  filled  with  goods  for  trade,  with  no  person  in  the 
house  but  myself,  and  with  no  other  door  than  a  mat,  in  that  secu- 
rity, which  no  man  in  his  senses  would  expect  in  this  civilized  na- 
tion, especially  in  this  metropolis  without  the  precaution  of  having 
strong  doors,  strongly  locked  and  boiled.  And  with  regard  to  the 
women  in  Sherbro,  where  I  was  most  acquainted,  I  have  seen  many 
instances  of  modesty,  and  even  delicacy,  which  would  not  disgrace 


542  THOUGHTS   UPON   THE 

an  English  woman.  Yet,  such  is  the  treatment  which  I  have 
known  permitted,  if  not  encouraged,  in  many  of  our  ships — they 
have  been  abandoned,  without  restraint,  to  the  lawless  will  of  the 
first  conier. 

Accustomed  thus  to  despise,  insult,  and  injure  the  slaves  oo 
board,  it  may  be  expected  that  the  conduct  of  many  of  our  people 
to  the  natives,  with  whom  they  trade,  is,  as  far  as  circumstances 
admit,  very  similar ;  and  it  is  so.  They  are  considered  as  a  peo- 
ple to  be  robbed  and  spoiled  with  impunity.  Every  art  is  em- 
ployed to  deceive  and  wrong  them.  And  he  who  has  most  address 
in  this  way,  has  most  to  boast  of. 

Not  an  article  that  is  capable  of  diminution  or  adulteration  is 
delivered  genuine,  or  entire.  The  spirits  are  lowered  by  water. 
False  heads  are  put  into  the  kegs  that  contain  the  gunpowder;  so 
that,  though  the  kee  appears  large,  there  is  no  more  powder  in  it 
than  in  a  much  smaller.  The  linen  and  cotton  cloths  are  opened, 
and  two  or  three  yards,  according- to  the  length  of  the  piece,  cut 
off,  not  from  the  end,  but  one  out  of  the  middle,  where  it  is  not  so 
readily  noticed. 

The  natives  are  cheated,  in  the  number,  weight,  measure,  or 
quality  of  what  they  purchase,  in  every  possible  way :  and  by 
habit  and  emulation,  a  marvellous  dexterity  is  acquired  in  these 
practices.  And  thus  the  natives,  in  their  turn,  in  proportion  to 
their  commerce  with  the  Europeans,  and  (I  am  sorry  to  add) 
/particularly  with  the  English,  become  jealous,  insidious,  and 
revengeful. 

They  know  with  whom  they  deal,  and  are  accordingly  prepar- 
ed, though  they  can  trust  some  ships  and  boats,  which  have  treated 
ihem  with  punctuality,  and  may  be  trusted  by  them.  A  quarrel 
sometimes  furnishes  pretext  for  detaining  and  carrying  away  one 
•or  more  of  the  natives,  which  is  retaliated,  if  practicable,  upon  the 
the  next  boat  that  comes  to  the  place,  from  the  same  port.  For 
so  far  their  vindictive  temper  is  restrained  by  their  ideas  of  justice, 
that  they  will  not,  often,  revenge  an  injury  received  from  a  Liver- 
pool ship,  upon  one  belonging  to  Bristol  or  London. 

They  will,  usually,  wait  with  patience  the  arrival  of  one,  which, 
they  suppose,  by  her  sailing  from  the  same  place,  has  some  con- 
nexion with  that  which  usod  them  ill  :  and  they  are  so  quick  at 
distinguishing  our  little  local  differences  of  language  and  customs 
in  a  ship,  that  before  they  have  been  in  a  ship  five  minutes,  and 
often  before  they  come  on  board,  they  know  with  certainty,  who 
ther  she  be  from  Bristol,  Liverpool,  or  London. 

Retaliation  on  their  parts,  furnishes^a  plea  for  reprisal  on  ours. 
Thus,  in  one  place  or  another,  trade  is  often  suspended,  all  inter- 
course cut  off,  and  things  are  in  a  slate  of  war  5  till  necessity,  ei- 
ther on  the  ship's  part  or  on  theirs,  produces  overtures  of  peace, 


AJltkCAK   SLAVE-TRADE.  543 

and  dictates  the  price  which  the  offending  party  must  pay  for  it. 
But  it  is  a  warlike  peace.  We  trade  under  arms  ;  and  they  are 
furnished  with  long  knives. 

For,  with  a  few  exceptions,  the  English  and  the  Africans,  recip- 
rocally, consider  each  other  as  consummate  villians,  who  are  al- 
ways watching  opportunities  to  do  mischief.  In  short,  we  have,  1 
fear,  too  deservedly  a  very  unfavourable  character  upon  the  coast. 
When  I  have  charged  a  black  with  unfairness  and  aishonesty,  he 
has  answered,  if  able  to  clear  himself,  with  an  air  of  disdain, 
"  What !  do  you  think  I  am  a  white  man  ?" 

Such  is  the  nature,  such  are  the  concomitants,  of  the  slave- 
trade  ;  and  such  is  the  school  in  which  many  thousands  of  our 
seamen  are  brought  up.  Can  we^  then,  wonder  at  that  impatience 
of  subordination,,  ana  that  disposition  to  mutiny  amongst  them, 
which  has  been  of  late  so  loudly  complained  of,  and  so  severely 
felt  ?  Will  not  sound  policy  suggest  the  necessity  of  some  expe- 
dient here  ?  Or  can  sound  policy  suggest  any  effectual  expedient, 
but  the  total  suppression  of  a  trade  which,  like  a  poisonous  root, 
diffuses  its  malignity  into  every  branch  ? 

The  effects  which  our  trade  has  upon  the  blacks,  those  espe- 
ciallv  who  come  under  our  poWer,  may  be  considered  under  three 
headls — How  they  are  acquired.  The  mortality  they  are  subject 
to  ;  and,  How  those  who  survive  are  disposed  of. 

I  confine  my  remarks  on  the  first  head  to  the  Windward  coast, 
and  can  speak  most  confidently  of  the  trade  in  Sherbro,  where  I 
lived.  I  own,  however,  that  1  question,  if  any  part  of  the  Wind- 
waixl  coast  is  equal  to  Sherbro,  in  point  of  regularity  and  govern- 
ment. They  have  no  men  of  great  power  or  property  among 
them  ;  as  I  am  told  there  are  upon  the  Gold  coast,  at  Whida  and 
Benin.  The  Sherbro  people  live  much  in  the  patriarchal  way. 
An  old  man  usually  presides  in  each  town,  whose  authority  de- 
pends more  on  his  years,  than  on  his  possessions  :  and  he  who  is 
called  the  king,  is  not  easily  distinguished,  either  by  state  or 
wealth,  from  the  rest.  But  the  different  districts,  which  seem  to 
be,  in  many  respects,  independent  of  each  other,  are  incorporated, 
and  united,  by  means  of  an  institution  which  pervades  them  all, 
and  is  called  the  Purrow.  The  persons  of  this  order,  who  are 
very  numerous,  seem  very  much  to  resemble  the  Druids,  who 
once  presided  in  our  island. 

The  Purrow  has  both  the  legislative  and  executive  authority, 
and,  under  their  sanction,  there  is  a  police  exercised,  which  is  by 
no  means  contemptible.  Every  thing  belonging  to  the  Purrow  is 
mysterious  and  severe,  but,  upon  the  whole,  it  has  very  good  ef- 
fects ;  and  as  any  man,  whether  bond  or  free,  who  will  submit  to 
be  initiated  into  their  mysteries,  may  be  admitted  of  the  order,  it 
is  a  kind  of  commonwealth*    And,  perhaps,  few  people  enjoy 


544  THOUORTS  UPON  TRt 

more  simple,  political  freedom,  than  the  inhabitants  of  Sberbro, 
belonging  to  the  Porrow^  (who  are  not  slaves,)  farther  than  they 
are  bound  by  their  own  institations.  Private  property  is  tolera- 
bly well  secured,  and  violence  is  roach  suppressed. 

The  state  of  slavery  among  these  wik),  barbarons  people,  as 
we  esteem  them,  is  much  milder  than  in  our  colonies.  For  as,  on 
the  one  hand,  they  have  no  land  in  high  cultivation,  like  onr  West 
India  plantations,  and  therefore  no  call  for  that  excessive,  nninter- 
mitted  labour,  which  exhausts  our  slaves ;  so,  on  the  other  hand, 
no  man  is  permitted  to  draw  blood  even  from  a  slave.  If  he 
does,  he  is  liable  to  a  strict  inquisition  ;  for  the  Purrow  laws  will 
not  allow  a  private  individual  to  shed  blood.  A  man  may  sell 
his  slave  if  he  pleases  ;  but  he  may  not  wantonly  abuse  him.  The 
laws,  likewise,  punish  some  species  of  theft  with  slavery,  and  in 
cases  of  adultery,  which  are  very  common,  as  polygamy  is  the 
custom  of  the  country,  both  the  woman,  and  the  man  who  offends 
with  her,  are  liable  to  be  sold  for  slaves,  unless  they  can  satisfy 
the  husband,  or  unless  they  are  redeemed  by  their  friends. 

Among  these  unenlightened  blacks,  it  is  a  general  maxim,  that 
if  a  man  steals,  or  breaks  a  moveable,  as  a  musket,  for  instance, 
the  offence  may  be  nearly  compensated,  by  putting  another  mus- 
ket in  its  place ;  but  offences  which  cannot  be  repaired  in  kind,  as 
adultery,  admit  of  no  satisfaction,  till  the  injured  person  declares 
that  he  is  satisfied.  So  that,  if  a  rich  man  seduces  the  wife  of  a 
poor  man,  he  has  it  in  his  power  to  change  places  with  him  ;  for 
he  may  send  for  every  article  in  his  house,  one  by  one,  till  he  says, 
"  I  have  enough."     The  only  alternative,  is  personal  slavery. 

I  suppose  bribery  and  influence  may  have  their  effects  in  Guinea, 
as  they  have  in  some  other  countries ;  but  their  laws,  in  the  main, 
are  wise  and  good  ;  and,  upon  the  whole,  they  have  considerable 
operation  ;  and  therefore,  I  believe  many  of  the  slaves  purchased 
in  Sherbro,  aud  probably  upon  the  whole  Windward  coast,  are 
convicts,  who  have  forfeited  their  liberty  by  breaking  the  laws  of 
their  country. 

But  I  apprehend  that  the  neighbourhood  of  our  ships,  and  the 
desire  of  our  goods,  are  motives  which  often  push  the  rigours  of 
the  laws  to  an  extreme  which  would  not  be  exacted  if  th^v  were 
left  to'themselves. 

But  slaves  are  the  staple  article  of  the  traffic  ;  and  though  a 
considerable  number  may  have  been  born  near  the  sea,  I  believe 
the  bulk  of  them  are  brought  from  far.  I  have  reason  to  think, 
that  some  travel  more  than  a  thousand  miles  before  they  reach  the 
sea-coast.  Whether  there  may  be  convicts  amongst  these  like- 
wise, or  what  proportion  they  may  bear  to  those  who  are  taken 
prisoners  in  war,  it  is  impossible  to  know. 


▲FBICAN  SLATS'VEiiOi:.  M5 

I  judge  Ui6  principal  soarce  of  tbe  slave-trade  U  the  wars  which 
prevail  among  the  natives.  Sometimes  these  wars  break  out  be- 
tween those  who  live  near  the  sea.  The  English,  or  other  Euro- 
peans, have  been  charged  with  fomenting  them ;  1  believe  (so  far  • 
asconcerns  the  Windward  coast)  unjustly.  That  some,  would  do 
it  if  they  could,  I  doubt  not ;  but  I  do  not  think  they  can  have  op- 
portunity. Nor  is  it  needful  they  should  interfere.  Thousands^ 
in  our  own  countryi  wish  for  war,  because  they  fatten  upon  its 
spoils* 

Human  nature  is  much  the  same  in  every  placie,  and  few  people 
will  be  willing  to  allow  that  the  negroes  in  Africa  are  better  than 
themselves.  Supposing,  therefore,  they  wish  for  European  goods, 
may  not  they  wish  to  purchase  them  from  a  ship  just  arrived  i 
Of  course,  they  must  wish  for  slaves  to  go  to  market  with  ;  and 
if  they  have  not  slaves,  and  think  themselves  strong  enough  to  in* 
vade  their  neighbours,  they  will  probably  wish  for  war.  And  if 
once  they  wish  for  it,  how  easy  is  it  lo  find  or  to  make  pretexts  for 
breaking  an  inconvenient  peace ;  or,  (after  the  example  of  greater 
heroes,  of  Christian  name,)  to  make  depredations  without  conde* 
scending  to  assign  any  reasons. 

I  verily  believe  that  the  far  greater  part  of  the  wars  in  Africa 
would  cease,  if  the  Europeans  would  cease  to  tempt  them,  by  of- 
fering goods  for  slaves.  And  though  they  do  not  bring  legions 
into  the  field,  their  wars  are  bloody.  I  believe  the  captives  re- 
served for  sale  are  fewer  than  tbe  slain. 

I  have  not  sufficient  data  to  warrant  calculation,  but  I  suppose 
not  less  than  one  hundred  thousand  slaves  are  exported,  aontiaUy, 
from  all  parts  of  Africa,  and  that  more  then  one  half  of  these  are 
exported  in  English  bottoms. 

If  but  an  equal  number  are  killed  in  war,  and  if  many  of  these 
wars  are  kindled  by  the  incentive  of  selling  their  prisoners ;  what 
an  annual  accumulation  of  blood  must  there  be  crying  against  the 
nations  of  Europe  concerned  in  this  trade,  and  particularly  against 
our  own ! 

I  have  often  been  gravely  told,  as  a  proof  that  the  Afi*icanS| 
however  hardly  treated,  deserved  but  little  compassion,  that  they 
are  a  people  so  destitute  of  natural  affection,  that  it  is  common 
among  them  for  parents  to  sell  their  children,  and  children  their 
parents.  And,  I  think,  a  charge  of  this  kind  is  brought  against 
them  by  the  respectable  author  of  Spectacle  de  la  JNTalttrei  But 
he  must  have  t^n  misinformed.  I  never  beard  of  one  initaace 
of  either  while  i  used  the  coast. 

One  article  more  upon  this  bead,  is  kidnapping,  or  stealing  fince 
people.  Some  people  suppose,  t)iat  the  ship  trade  is  raAer  the 
stealing  thaa  tbe  buying  of  slaves.    But  there  i»  eoottgli  to  by  to 

Vot.IV.  69 


646  THOUGHTS  UPON  THE 

the  charge  of  the  ships,  without  accusing  them  falsely.  The 
slaves,  in  general  are  bought  and  paid  fon  Sometimes,  when 
goods  are  lent  or  trusted  on  shore,  the  trader  voluntarily  leaves  a 
A^e  person,  perhaps  his  own  son,  as  a  hostage,  or  pawn,  for  the 
payment ;  and  in  case  of  default,  the  hostage  is  carried  off,  and 
sold  ;  which,  however  hard  upon  him,  being  in  consequence  of  a 
free  stipulation,  cannot  be  deemed  unfair.  There  have  been  in- 
stances of  unprincipled  captains,  who,  at  the  close  of  what  they 
supposed  their  last  voyage,  and  when  they  had  no  intention  of  revi« 
siting  the  coast,  have  detained  and  carried  away  free  people  with 
them ;  and  leA  the  next  ship,  that  should  come  from  the  same 
port  to  risk  the  consequences.  But  these  actions,  I  hope  and  be- 
lieve, are  not  common. 

With  regard  to  the  natives,  to  steal  a  free  man  or  woman,  and 
to  sell  them  on  board  a  ship,  would,  I  think,  be  a  more  difficult 
and  more  dangerous  attempt  in  Sherbro,  than  in  London.  But 
I  have  no  doubt  that  the  traders,  who  come  from  the  interior  parts 
of  Africa,  at  a  great  distance,  find  opportunity,  in  the  course  of 
their  journey,  to  pick  up  stragglers,  whom  they  may  meet  in 
their  way.  This  branch  of  oppression  and  robbery  would  like- 
wise fail,  if  the  temptation  to  it  were  removed. 

I  have,  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge,  pointed  out  the  principal 
sources  of  that  immense  supply  of  slaves  which  furnishes  so  large 
an  exportation  every  year.  If  all  that  are  taken  on  board  the 
ships  were  to  survive  the  voyage,  and  be  landed  in  good  order, 
possibly  the  English,  French,  and  Dutch  islands  and  colonies, 
would  be  soon  overstocked,  and  fewer  ships  would  sail  to  the 
coast.  But  a  large  abatement  roust  be  made  for  mortality.  Af- 
ter what  I  have  already  said  of  their  treatment,  I  shall  now,  that  1 
am  again  to  consider  them  on  board  the  ships,  confine  myself  to 
this  point. 

In  the  Portuguese  ships,  which  trade  from  Brazil  to  the  Gold 
coast  and  Angola,  I  believe  a  heavy  mortality  is  not  frequent.  The 
slaves  have  room,  they  are  not  put  in  irons,  (I  speak  from  infiorm- 
ation  only,)  and  are  humanely  treated. 

With  our  ships,  the  great  object  is  to  be  full.  When  the  ship  is 
there,  it  is  thought  desirable  she  should  take  as  many  as  possible. 
The  cargo  of  a  vessel  of  a  hundred  tons,  or  little  more,  is  calculated . 
to  purchase  from  two  hundred  and  twenty  to  two  hundred  and  fifty 
slaves.  Their  lodging-rooms  below  the  deck,  which  are  three,  (for 
the  men,  the  boys,  and  the  women,)  besides  a  place  for  the  sick,  are 
sometimes  more  than  five  feet  high,  and  sometimes  less  ;  and  this 
height  is  divided  towards  the  middle,  for  the  slaves  lie  in  two  rows, 
one  above  the  other,  on  each  side  of  the  ship,  close  to  each  other, 
like  books  upoaa  shelf.    I  have  known  them  so  close,  that  the  shelf 


AFJUCAN-  SLATE-TRIBV.  647 

would  not  easily  contain  one  more.  *  And  I  have  known  a  white 
man  sent  down  among  the  men  to  lay  them  in  these  rows  to  the 
greatest  advantage,  so  that  as  little  space  as  possible  might  be  lost. 
Let  it  be  observed,  that  the  poor  creatures,  thus  cramped 
for  want  of  room,  are  likewise  in  irons,  for  the  most  part 
both  hands  and  feet,  and  two  together,  which  makes  it  difficult 
for  them  to  turn  or  move,  to  attempt  either  to  rise  or  to  lie  down, 
without  hurting  themselves  or  each  other.  Nor  is  the  motion  of 
the  ship,  especially  her  healing,  or  stoop  on  one  side,  when  under 
sail,  to  be  omitted  ;  for  this,  as  they  lie  athwart,  or  cross  the  ship, 
adds  to  the  uncomfortableness  of  their  lodging,  especially  to  those 
who  lie  on  the  leeward  or  leaning  side  of  the  vessel. 

Dire  is  the  tossing,  deep  the  groans. — 

The.  heat  and  smell  of  these  rooms,  when  the  weather  will  not 
admit  of  the  slaves  being  brought  upon  deck,  and  of  having  their 
rooms  cleaned  every  day,  would  be  almost  insupportable  to  a 
person  not  accustomed  to  them.  If  the  slaves  and  the  rooms  can 
be  constantly  aired,  and  they  are  not  detained  too  long  on  board, 
perhaps  there  are  not  many  die  ;  but  the  contrary  is  often  their 
lot.  They  are  kept  down  by  the  weather,  to  breathe  a  hot  and 
corrupted  air,  sometimes  for  a  week  :  this,  added  to  the  galling  of 
their  irons,  and  the  despondency  which  seizes  their  spirits  when 
thus  confined,  soon  becomes  fatal.  And  every  morning,  perhaps 
more  instances  than  one  are  found,  of  the  living  and  the  dead,  like 
the  captives  of  Mezentins,  fastened  together. 

Epidemical  fevers  and  fluxes,  which  fill  the  ship  whh  noisome 
and  noxious  effluvia,  often  break  out,  and  infect  the  seamen  like- 
wise, and  thus  the  oppressors  and  oppressed,  fall  by  the  same  stroke. 
I  believe  nearly  one  half  of  the  slaves  on  board  have,  sometimes, 
died;  and  that  the  loss  of  a  third  part,  in  these  circumstances,  is 
not  unusual.  The  ship  in  which  I  was  mate  left  the  coast  with  two 
hundred  and  eighteen  slaves  on  board  ;  and  though  we  were  not 
much  affected  by  epidemical  disorders,  I  find,  by  my  journal  of 
that  voyage,(now  before  me,)  that  we  buried  sixty*two  on  our  pas- 
sage to  Sooth  Carolina,  exclusive  of  those  which  died  before  we 
left  the  coast,  of  which  I  have  no  account. 

I  believe,  upon  an  average  between  the  more  healthy  and  the 
more  sickly  vo3'ages,  and  including  all  contingencies,  one  fourth 
of  the  whole  purchase  may  be  allotted  to  the  article  of  mortality  : 
that  is,  if  the  English  ships  purchase  sixty  ihousaud  slaves  annu- 
ally, upon  the  whole  extent  of  the  coast,  the  annual  loss  of  lives 
cannot  be  much  less  xh^iu  fifteen  thousand. 

I  am  now  to  speak  of  the  survivors.     When  the  ships  make 


549  tJtcvcnrv  vwob  the 

the  lasd,  (ntaally  Ibt  Wen4Ddia  ishads,)  and  bairt  tbeir  port  iiH 
view,  after  baving  been  four,  five,  six  weeks,  or  a  longer  time,  at 
sea,  (wbieb  depends  mucb  npon^  tbe  time  that  passes  before  tbey 
can  get  into  tbe  permanent  trade^winds,  wbich  blow  from  the 
north-east  and  east,  across  tbe  Atlantic,)  then,  and  not  before,  tbey 
venture  to  release  the  men  slates  from  their  irons  %  and  then  tbe 
sight  of  tbe  land,  and  their  freedom  from  long  and  painful  cob- 
finement,  usaally  excite  in  them  a  degree  of  alacrity,  and  a  tran^ 
sient  feeling  of  joy. 

The  prisoner  leaps  to  lose  his  chains. 

But  this  jdy  is  short-lived  indeed.  The  condition  of  the  unhappy 
slaves  is  in  a  continual  progress  from  bad  to  worse.  Their  case 
is  truly  pitiable  from  the  moment  tbey  are  in  a  state  of  slavery  in 
their  own  country  ;  but  it  may  be  deemed  a  state  of  ease  and 
liberty,  compared  with  their  situation  on  board  our  ships. 

Yet,  perhaps,  they  would  wish  to  spend  the  remainder  of  their 
days  on  ship-'board,  could  they  know,  beforehand,  the  nature  of  the 
servitude  which  awaits  them  on  shore ;  and  that  the  dreadful 
hardships  and  sufferings  tbey  have  already  endured,  would  to  the 
most  of  tbem,  only  terminate  in  excessive  toil,  hunger,  and  tbe 
excruciating  tortures  of  tbe  cart-whip,  inflicted  at  tbe  caprice  of 
an  unfeeling  overseer,  proud  of  tbe  power  allowed  him  of  punish- 
ing whom,  and  when,  and  how  he  pleases. 

I  hope  the  slaves  in  our  islands  are  better  treated  now,  than 
they  were  at  the  time  when  I  was  in  the  trade.  And,  even,  then, 
I  know  there  were  slaves,  who  under  the  care  and  protection  of 
humane  masters,  were  comparatively  happy.  But  I  saw  and 
heard  enough  to  satisfy  me  that  their  condition,  in  general,  was 
wretched  to  tbe  extreme.  However,  my  stay  in  Antigua  and  St. 
Christopher's  (tlie  only  islands  1  visited)  was  too  short  to  qualify 
me  for  saying  much,  from  my  own  certain  knowledge,  upon  this 
painful  subject.  Nor  is  it  needful  : — enough  has  been  offered  by 
several  respectable  writers,  who  have  had  opportunity  of  collect- 
ing surer  and  fuller  information. 

One  thing  1  cannot  omit,  which  was  told  me  by  the  gentlemaa 
to  whom  my  ship  was  consigned,  at  Antigua,  in  the  year  1751, 
and  who  was  himself  a  planter.  He  said  that  calculations  had 
been  made,  with  all  possible  exactness,  to  determine  which  was 
tbe  preferable,  that  is,  tbe  moi*e  saving  method  of  managing 
slaves: 

"  Whether  to  appoint  them  moderate  work,  plenty  of  pro- 
''  vision,  and  such  treatment  as  might  enable  tbem  to 
^'  protract  their  lives  to  old  age  f '*  Or^ 


*' By  rigoorondy  strainiDg  tlieir  strength  to  tbe  utmosl, 
*'  with  little  relaxation,  bard  fate,  and  hard  usage, 
"  to  wear  them  out  before  they  became  useless^  aiid 
"unable  to  do  service  ;  and  then  to  buy  new  ones lo 
''  fill  up  their  places  ?" 

He  further  said,  that  these  skilful  calculators  had  determined 
in  favour  of  the  latter  mode,  as  much  the  cheaper  ;  and  that  he^ 
could  mention  several  estaies,  in  the  island  of  Antigua,  on  wfaici| 
it  was  seldom  known  that  a  slave  had  lived  above  nine  years.-—* 
Ex  pede  Herctdem ! 

When  the  slaves  are  landed  for  sale,  (for  in  the  Leeward  Isl- 
ands they  are  usually  sold  on  shore,)  it  may  happen  that  after  a 
long  separation  in  different  parts  of  the  ship,  when  they  are 
brought  together  in  one  place,  some  who  are  nearly  related  may 
recognise  each  other.  If  upon  such  a  meeting,  pleasure  should 
be  felt,  it  can  be  but  momentary.  The  sale  disperses  them  wide, 
to  difierent  parts  of  the  island,  or  to  different  islands.  Husbands 
and  wives,  parents  and  children,  brothers  and  sisters,  must  sud- 
denly part  again,  probably  to  meet  no  more. 

After  a  careful  perusal  of  what  I  have  written,  weighing  every 
paragraph  distinctly,  I  can  find  nothing  to  retract.  As  it  is  not 
easy  to  write  altogether  with  coolness  upon  this  business,  and  es- 
pecially not  easy  to  me,  who  have  formerly  been  so  deeply  en- 
gaged in  it ;  1  have  been  jealous,  lest  the  warmth  of  imagination 
might  have  insensibly  seduced,  me  to  aggravate  and  overcharge 
some  of  the  horrid  features,  which  I  have  attempted  to  delineate, 
of  the  African  trade.     But,  upon  a  strict  review,  I  am  satisfied* 

I  have  apprised  the  reader  that  I  write  from  memory,  after  an 
interval  of  more  than  thirty  yeai's.  But,  at  the  same  time,  I  be- 
lieve many  things  which  I  saw,  heard,  and  felt,  upon  the  coast  of 
Africa,  are  so  deeply  engraven  in  my  memory,  that  I  can  hardly 
forget  or  greatly  mistake  them,  while  I  am  capable  of  remember- 
ing any  thing.  I  am  certilinly  not  guilty  of  wilful  misrepresen- 
tation. And,  upon  the  whole,  I  dare  appeal  to  the  Oreat  Search- 
er of  hearts,  in  whose  presence  I  write,  and  before  whom  I,  and 
my  readers,  must  all  shortly  appear,  that  (with  the  restrictions 
and  exceptions  I  have  made)  I  have  advanced  nothing  but  what, 
to  the  best  of  my  judgment  and  conscience,  is  true. 

I  ha%'e  likewise  written  without  solicitation,  and  simply  from  the 
motive  I  have  already  assigned  ;  a  conviction  that  the  share  I 
have  formerly  had  in  the  trade,  binds,  me,  in  conscience,  to  throw 
what  light  I  am  able  upon  the  subject,  now  it  is  likely  to  become 
a  point  of  parliamentary  investigation. 

Ncv  one  can  have  less  interest  in  it  than  I  have  at  present,  fur- 


550  THOUGHTS.  UPON   THE,  (CC. 

ther  than  as  I  am  interested  by  the  feeliags  of  bomanity,  and,  a 
regard  for  the  honour  and  welfare  of  my  country.- 

Though  unwilling  to  give  offence  to  a  single  person,  in  such  a 
cause,  I  ought  not  to  be  afraid  of  offending  many,  by  declaring 
the  truth.  If,  indeed,  there  can  be  many,  whom  even  intereat  can 
prevail  upon  to  contradict  the  common  sense  of  mankind,  by 
pleading  for  a  commerce  so  iniquitous,  so  cruel,  so  oppressive,  so 
destructive,  as  the  African  Skve-Trade  ! 


AN 


TO   THfi 

INHABITANTS  OF  OLNEY. 

PRINTED  IN  THE  YEAR  1768. 


jlh  address 

TO   THK 

INHABITANTS  OF  OLNEY. 


Mr  Dear  Friends, 

Every  persoa  in  the  parish  has  a  place  in  my  heart  and 
prayers,  but  I  cannot  speak  to  each  of  you  singly.  Yet  I  am  de* 
•irous  to  give  full  proof  that  I  watch. for  the  welfare  of  youraouls  ; 
and  likewise,  (if  it  be  possible,)  to  have  a  witness  in  every  con* 
science,  that  none  may  plead  igtiorance  of  those  things  which  it 
highly  concerns  them  to  know.  I  hope  you  will  receive  this  pa* 
per  in  good  part  as  a  token  of  my  love,  and  read  it  with  attea* 
tion. 

Tlie  great  God,  who  appoints  for  all  '*  the  children  of  men  the 
bounds  of  their  habitation,"*  has  been  pleased  to  fii  yours  in  a 
place  favoured  with  the  light  of  the  Gospel.  This  is  a  great  and 
distinguishing  privilege  in  itself;  but  it  may  be  abused,  and  if  it  is, 
will  aggravate  your  guilt  and  condemnation.  "  Jesus  Christ 
crucified"f  is  preached  among  you  ;  the  fonndationj:  which  Goi> 
himself  has  provided,  whereon  poor  sinners  may  build  their  eter- 
nal hope,  is  set  before  you.  i  ou  are  warned  of  the  evil  of  sin^  of 
the  wrath  of  Gon  denounced  against  transgressors,  and  of  the  im* 
possibility  of  being  saved  without  that  faith  which,  being  of  the 
operation  of  God,  purifies  the  heart,  ''  and  works  by  love."  And 
the  great  blessings  of  life  and  immortality,  pardon,  justification, 
adoption,  holiness,  perseverance,  and  eternal  glory,  are  preached 
amongst  you  as  the  sure  and  inseparable  eflects  of  a  living  faith  in 
the  Son  of  God.^ 

In  a  little  time  we  must  all  give  an  account  of  our  improvement 
of  the  opportunities  we  are  favoured  with.  This  thought,  joined 
to  a  consideration  of  the  state  of  the  parish,  leads  roe  to  offer  a 
word  in  season  to  each  of  you.  Perhaps  there  is  hardly  a  single 
person  who  will  be  more  or  less  concerned  under  one  or  other  of 
the  following  particulars. 

I.  If  God  has  taught  you  the  truths  I  have  mentioned  above,  if 
you  have  faith  in  his  Son  Jesus  Christ,  or  if,  convinced  of  its  ne- 

*  Acts,  xvii.  26.  f  1  Cor.  ii.  2.  |  1  Cor.  lih  11.  ?( Col.  U.  IS.  Acts,  XT.  « 
Gal.  V.  6. 

Vol.  IV.  70 


554  AN    ABDRESS    TO   THE 

eessityi  you  are  humbly  and  diligently  seeking  it  in  the  use  of 
the  means  he  has  appointed,  I  may  address  you  in  the  angel's  lan- 
guage to  Jtfary,  '^  Hail  thou  that  are  highly  favoured  !"*  For  if 
you  have  this  faith,  you  have  the  promise  and  earnest  of  everlast* 
ing  life  ;f  or  if  you  account  yourself  but  a  seeker,  the  word  of 
the  living  God  is  engaged  for  your  success ;  for  he  has  said, 
*^  Those  who  seek  shall  find."];  I  am  persuaded  that  you^will 
readily  receive  the  word  of  exhortation.  You  are  called  with  a 
*^  high  and  holy  calling  ;"<^  watch  and  pray,  therefore,  that  you 
may  be  preserved  from  the  snares  of  the  world,  and  the  devices  of 
Satan.  That  no  errors  in  judgment,  no  sinful  indulgence  in  prac- 
tice, nothing  contrary  to  the  spirituality  love,  gentleness,  and  pa- 
tience, which  become  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  may  defile  your  con- 
science, rob  you  of  your  comfort,  or  "  cause  the  way  of  truth  to 
be  evil  spoken  oPJl  through  your  miscarriage.  You  are  called 
*^  out  of  darkness  into  marvellous  light,"ir  that  by  your  profession 
God  may  be  glorified.  Therefore  keep  close  to  his  word  as 
your  rule  ;  be  constant  in  your  application  at  the  throne  of  grace ; 
attend  diligently  upon  his  public  ordinances,  that  thus  by  waiting 
upon  the  Lord  your  strength  may  be  renewed,**  and  "  your 
light  may  shine  before  men,"f  f  to  his  praise.  That  justice,  truth, 
fidelity,  sobriety,  and  diligence,  may  adorn  the  exercise  of  your 
ordinary  calling ;  and  that  you  may  fill  up  your  relation  in  life 
as  a  master  or  servant,  a  husband  or  a  wife,  a  parent  or  a  child, 
in  such  a  manner  as  may  and  will  be  expected  from  one  who  has 
"  tasted  that  the  Lord  is  gracious."  j J  Beware  of  a  worldly  or 
selfish,  a  proud,  peevish,  or  passionate  spirit :  if  you  give  way  to 
any  of  these  evils,  you  will  walk  uncomfortably  yourself,  you  will 
grieve  or  discourage  others,  and  you  will  open  the  mouths  of  the 
wicked  to  *'  blaspheme  that  worthy  name  by  which  you  are 
called."§«§ 

IL  But  if  you  are  one  of  those  who  account  the  Gospel  of 
Christ  a  burden,  and  can  hardly  be  brought  to  give  it  a  patient 
hearing  ;  what  can  I  say  to  you  ?  You  are  already  prejudiced 
against  all  I  can  offer,  and  perhaps  account  me  an  enemy  because 
I  tell  you  the  truth.  Yet  I  would  fain  persuade  you  of  my  good 
will.  I  have  no  complaint  to  make  of  you  upon  my  own  ac- 
count ;  having  received  no  personal  incivility  even  from  those 
who  are  dissatisfied  with  my  ministry.  Though  you  are  unwill- 
ing to  hear  me  from  the  pulpit,  yet  let  me  expostulate  a  minute 
with  you  in  this  way.  If  I  cannot  prove  my  doctrine  by  the 
Scripture,  and  even  by  the  articles  and  public  offices  of  our  own 

•  Luke,  i.  £8.    f  John,  rl  47.    f  Matt.  vji.  7.    ^  Phil.  iii.  1 4.      2  Tim.  i.  9. 
t  Pet.  iL  «.  Hi  Pet.  ii.  9.  **  Isa.  xl.  31.  ff  Matth.  v.  16. 

■^  1  P«t.  ii.  8.        ^^  Jatue^t  "•  7. 


I 


IM1AB1TAI7TS    OF   OLKEY.  S55 

church,  you  have  reason  lobe  displeased  with  me.  But  why  will 
ou  venture  lo  reject*  what  you  must  confess  may  at  least  possibly 
e  the  truth  ?  I  am  sure  you  cannot  disprove  the  general  subjects 
of  my  ministry,  not  even  to  the  satisfaction  of  your  own  minds,  if 
you  will  sit  leisurely  down,  and  examine  them  by  the  New.  Testa- 
ment. It  is,  indeed,  easy  to  turn  off  the  inquiry  with  a  laugh,  while 
you  are  in  health  and  good  spirits  ;  but  if  you  can  remember  a 
time  when  you  have  been  sick^  and  apprehensive  of  the  approach 
of  death,  probably  you  then  felt  your  confidence  fail,  and  was  not 
so  sure  of  the  safety  of  your  stale  as  you  once  thought  yourself. 
Such  a  time  will  come  again.  If  you  should  not  be  cut  off  by  a 
sudden  stroke,  or  visited  with  some  illness  which  may  deprive  you 
of  your  senses,  (which  God  forbid  should  be  the  case  !)  yoQ  must 
again  be  brought  within  the  view  of  death.  You  must  experience 
that  untried  moment,  and  render  up  your  soul  to  the  tribunal  of 
God.  O,  then,  beware  of  resting  your  eternal  hopes  upon  any 
less  authority  than  his  Word !  You  may  now  be  supported  by  the 
names  and  examples  of  men  ;  but  no  teacher,  or  friend,  or  favour* 
ite  author,  can  or  will  stand  between  you  and  your  Judge.  You 
may  live  in  a  crowd,  but  you  must  die  alone.  What  you  think  of 
yourself,  or  what  others  may  ibink  of  you,  is  of  small  moment ; 
the  main  question  is.  What  you  are  in  the  sight  of  the  great  Judge 
to  whom  ^^  all  hearts  are  open,  all  desires  known,  and  from  whom 
no  secrets  are  hid  :"*  for,  according  to  his  unalterable  sentence, 
you  must  stand  or  fall  to  eternity.  Alas  !  if  our  Gospel  is  true, 
and  you  live  and  die  a  stranger  to  it,  "  it  will  be  more  tolerable  in 
that  day"  for  those  who  never  heard  of  the  name  of  Jesus,  than^ 
foryou.t 

111.  There  are  too  many  people  amongst  us  who  abstain  from 
the  public  worship,  not  so  much  from  any  particular  objection  they 
have  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  as  from  an  inconsiderate  and 
worldly  turn  of  mind,  which  keeps  them  in  a  general  neglect  of 
religion.  I  have  more  than  once  publicly  lamented  and  testified 
agamst  the  shameful  profanation  of  the  Lord's  day  in  this  town. 
1  am  informed  it  was  not  thus  some  years  ago  ;  but  the  increase  of 
every  kind  of  wickedness  (as  will  generally  be  the  case  where  the 
Gospel  is  known  and  despised)  seems  breaking  in  upon  us  like  a 
flood.  It  is  with  some  a  day  "  of  buying  and  selling,  of  slaying 
oxen  and  killing  sheep  j"t  others  associate  for  drink  and  vain  con- 
versation, to  the  scandal  of  the  town,  the  grief  of  all  serious  per- 
sons, and  no  less  in  defiance  to  the  laws  of  the  land,  than  to  the 
commandments  of  God.  If  1  could  have  suppressed  these  enor- 
mities, I  would.  But  as  I  have  not  been  able  te  obtain  assistance 
and  concurrence  sufficient  to  put  the  statutes  in  force,  I  can  only 

*  t  Cor.  iv.  9.  i  Matt.  xi.  Cf .  t  In«  xxii.  13. 


iSQ  M  ADDRESS  to  Ta£ 

give  notice  as  a  minister  and  a  watchman,  that  <'  for  these  thin^ 
the  wrath  of  God  cometh  on  the  children  of  disobedience."*  If 
you,  my  reader,  are  concerned  in  these  practices,  let  me  entreat 

Ci  to  consider  what  you  are  doing*  Why  will  you  '^  provoke  the 
rd  to  jealousy  ?"t  Are  you  stronger  than  he  ?  If  your  whole 
dependence  was  upon  what  we  call  a  great  man,  you  durst  not 
wilfully  and  publicly  disobey  him  :  and  can  you  think  it  safe  to 
trifle  with  the  great  God  ?  Do  you  not  know  iiiat  your  life,  your 
health,  the  peace  of  your  family,  and  the  success  of  your  industry, 
all  depend  upon  him  ?  Are  you  not  afraid,  lest  by  openly  affront- 
ins^  his  Majesty  in  profaning  the  day  he  has  commanded  to  be  kept 
holy,  you  should  provoke  him  to  send  a  curse  upon  all  your  con- 
cerns, and  to  blast  your  endeavours  in  the  course  of  the  week  ?^ 
Every  rebellion  against  God  makes  our  state  more  desperate,  sin 
being  progressive.  Have  you  never  read,  or  heard,  or  seen,  that 
the  contempt  of  the  Sabbath  (like  a  breach  in  the  bank  of  a  river) 
opens  the  way  for  a  long  train  of  evils  to  follow  ?  How  many  have 
made  a  confession  to  this  purpose  at  the  eallows  ?  And  how  many 
families  may  be  found  that  are  as  full  of  misery,  dissention,  and 
confusion  throughout  the  week,  as  they  are  destitute  of  the  fear 
and  worship  of  God  on  the  Lord^s  day  ?  Alas !  1  shall  tremble  for 
you  if  you  do  not  lay  this  admonition  to  heart :  I  shall  fear  lest  you 
provoke  the  Lord  to  give  you  up  to  a  reprobate  mind,  or  lest,  in 
the  course  of  his  providence,  he  should  set  some  mark  upon  you, 
to  teach  others,  by  vour  example,  that  it  is  a  dreadful  thing  to  sio 
against  the  light.§  But  though  his  patience  should  bear  with  you 
to  the  last,  and  you  to  the  last  should  despise  it,  yet  death  will 
finally  summon  you  to  judgment,  unless  by  his  grace  you  are 
brought  to  repentance :  though  you  may  say,  "  Peace,  peace,  to 
yourself,  sudden  destruction  will  then  come  upon  you,  anct  you  shall 
not  be  able  to  escapc.''|| 

If  you  are  one  of  those  who  do  not  wholly  neglect  the  public 
worship  of  God,  but  accustom  yourself  to  attend  only  once  in  the 
day,  give  me  leave  to  ask  you,  or  rather  to  desire  you  would  ask 
your  own  conscience,  whether  you  have  a  sufficient  excuse  for  not 
attending  twice  ?  I  know  the  circumstances  of  many  families,  such 
as  sickness,  young  children,  &c«  will  necessarily  confine  some 
people  at  home,  but  a  due  allowance  for  these  impediments,  will 
by  no  means  account  for  the  great  difference  between  our  congre* 
gations  in  the  morning  and  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day.  Now, 
u  you  have  not  a  lawful  hindrance  to  plead,  consider  whether  the 
same  reasons  that  require  your  presence  at  the  public  worship 
once,  are  not  equally  strong  for  your  being  there  both  parts  of  the 

*  Ephes.  V.  8.         f  1  Cor.  x.  2£.  t  H«ggai,  i.  6—9.         ^  Rom.  a.  4. 

UlThess.  V.8. 


c 


INflAiltANTS  or  OLKET*  557 

day.  Why  do  you  go  at  all  ?  Is  it  not  to  join  with  others  in  pay* 
ing  homage  to  the  great  Goc^?  But  by  doing  this  once  only,  where 
opportunity  and  the  example  oY  others  invite  you  tufice^  you  contra- 
dict yourself,  and  act  as  if  you  thought  it  was  sometimes  your  duty 
to  join  in  worship,  and  sometimes  not  worth  your  while.  Or  do 
you  go  with  a  hope  of  receiving  good  for  your  souls  ?  Why  then 
should  you  at  any  time  be  willing  to  stay  away  ?  Perhaps  the  op- 
portunity you  Qiiss  might  have  been  made  peculiarly  useful  to 
ou.  At  least  the  Lora  may  justly  punish  your  frequent  neglect, 
y  withholding  his  blessing  when  you  do  attend.  And  this  may 
be  one  reason  why  you  have  heard  so  long  to  so  little  purpose. 

IV.  It  is  with  grief  I  observe  how  generally  the  word  of  God 
is  disregaitled  amongst  us,  though  few  can  plead  ignorance  of  bis 
will.  The  Scripture  denounced  a  wo  against  them  ^^who  are 
mighty  to  drink  strong  drink,''*  and  against  ^<  him  who  urges  strong 
drink  upon  his  neighbour  to  put  him  to  shame."t  The  Scripture 
declares,  ^*  Every  one  that  sweareth  shall  be  cut  off  with  a 
curse."t  These  threatenings  are  ft'eguenily  repeated  in  the  ears 
of  those  who  have  not  entirely  cast  on  the  very  form  of  religion. 
Yet  I  fear  intemperance,  riot,  and  profaneness,  visibly  gain 
strength  from  year  to  vear.  Ifyou  toiu  go  on  in  those  practices- 
yet  remember  I  this  day  take  God  and  your  consciences  to  wit- 
ness, that  "  I  am  pure  of  your  bIood."§  As  I  have  forewarned 
you  before,  so  1  tell  you  again,  the  wrath  of  God  hangs  over 
you.  "  Except  you  repent  you  will  surely  perish  ;"||  and  it  will 
be  a  great  aggravation  ifyou  perish  with  your  eyes  open.  Think, 
I  beseech  you,  before  it  is  too  late,  of  that  awful  passage — »"  If 
there  be  among  you  a  root  that  beareth  gall  and  wormwood,  and 
it  come  to  pass  when  he  heareth  the  woixls  of  this  curse,  that  he 
blesseth  himself  in  his  heart,  saying,  I  shall  have  peace  though  I 
walk  in  the  imaginations  of  my  heart  to  add  drunkenness  to  thirst ; 
the  Lord  will  not  spare  him,  but  the  anger  of  the  Lord  and  bis 
jealousy  shall  smoke  against  that  man,  and  all  the  curses  that  are 
written  in  this  book  shall  lie  upon  him,  and  the  Lord  shall  blot  ogt 
his  name  from  under  heaven.''ir 

There  is  one  sin  too  frequent  in  the  parish,  which,  upon  this 
occasion,  I  think  it  especially  necessary  to  mention.  St.  raul  as- 
sures us  (agreeable  to  many  other  passages  of  Scripture)  that 
**  whoremongers  and  aduherers  God  will  judge."**  Adultery^ 
which  implies  a  breach  of  the  marriaee  contract,  is  so  dreadful,  so 
irreparable  an  evil,  and  as  such,  condemned  even  by  the  heathens 
.  who  know  not  God,  that  I  would  hope  none  of  you  are  chargeable 
with  it !  If  you  are,  however  you  may  conceal  your  wickedness 

*Isa.v.22.  fHab.  iL15.  t^Sech.v.  S.  Exod.  xx.7.  ^Act9»xx.^6. 
H  Luke,  xiii.  3,  $.     >  If  Deut,  xxix.  19, 19.       **  Heb.  xiii.  4. 


558  AH   ADDRESS   TO  THE 

from  your  fellow-crealures,  you  cannot  hide  it  from  God  ;  bis  eye 
IS  upon  you,  and  his  justice  will  surely  overtake  you.  Indeed,  if 
he  is  pleased  to  give  you  faith  in  the  name  of  Jesus,  and  a  sincere 
repentance  of  your  crimes,  there  is  yet  hope  ;  for  "  the  blood  of 
Christ  cleanseth  from  all  sin  ;"•  otherwise  1  testify  to  you,  from 
his  Word,  you  shall  surely  perish.  He  who  said, «  Thou  shall  not 
Commit  adultery,"!  will  not  hold  you  guiltless  in  the  day  of  his 
wrath.  But  the  apostle  joins  whoredom  with  adultery,  and  has 
expressly  inserted  fornication  in  the  black  list  of  those  sins  which 
will  certainly  exclude  from  a  place  in  the  kingdom  of  God4  'f 
you  have  been  guilty,  may  the  Lord  fix  a  sense  of  your  sin  upon 
your  conscience  while  you  are  reading,  that  you  may  not  think  it 
a  light  matter,  but  may  instantly  humble  yourselves  before  him, 
and  flee  to  the  refuge  provided  for  helpless  sinners  in  the  Gospel  !§ 
If,  by  his  restraining  grace  and  providence,  you  have  been  hith- 
erto preserved  from  this  iniquity,  you  have  reason  to  praise  him. 
And  O  !  pray  to  him  (I  spealc  more  especially  to  young  persons) 
that  you  mav  be  enabled  to  ^^  abstain  from  fleshly  lusts,  which 
war  against  the  soul."||  It  is  your  duty  and  interest  to  flee  from 
this  hateful  evil,  and  to  watch  against  the  temptations  which  lead 
to  it,  a!s  you  would  avoid  a  pestilence.  By  complying  with  it, 
you  hazard  all  your  peace  and  comfort  in  this  life,  as  well  as  sin 
against  the  great  God.  If  a  criminal  intercourse  between  single 
persons  does  not  issue  in  marriage,  a  long  train  of  mischiefs  is  Uie 
usual  consequence  ;  shame,  remorse,  misery,  and  very  often  total 
ruin,  especially  on  the  woman's  part.  And  even  if  the  parties  are 
afterwards  married,  though  the  frequency  of  such  cases  may  lessen 
the  scandal  in  the  sight  of  men,  the  sin  committed  against  God  re« 
mains  the  same.  And  an  occasion  is  opened  for  such  reflections 
and  suspicions,  as  frequently  embitter  the  peace  and  destroy  the 
confidence  and  afiection  in  which  they  might  otherwise  have 
lived. 

V.  I  observe,  likewise,  with  concern,  a  spirit  of  open  impiety 
and  infidelity  spreading  amongst  some  persons.  They  are  bold  to 
"  proclaim  their  sin  as  Sodom  :"ir  they  cannot  be  content  with  the 
practice  of  wickedness,  or  with  tempting  others  to  ))artake  of 
their  evil  deeds,  but  they  are  prompted  to  scoif  at  the  truths  of  the 
Gospel,  and  to  ridicule  an^  revile  those  who  will  not  "  run  with 
them  into  the  same  excess  of  riot."**  If  any  one,  of  this  unhappy 
turn,  should  read  this  paper,  I  would  take  the  opportunity  to  tell 
you,  that  1  pity  you,  and  pray  for  you.  I  well  know  the  gall  and 
wormwoodTt  of  your  state,  for  it  was  once  my  own.  I  cannot  be 
surprised  at  any  thing  you  say  or  do.     You  sin  against  the  light, 


» 


^  1  John,  i.  7.    t  Exod.  xx.  14.    J  1  Cor.  vi.  9.    Gal.  v.  19.     ^  Heb.  vi.  U. 
II  1  Pel.  ii.  n .        t  lia.  ill.  %       ♦*  1  Pet.  ir.  4.        ft  Lam.  Hi.  1 9. 


INHABlTAlffTS   Of  ClUtZr.  559 

and  this  makes  you  desperate.  '^  It  is  hard  to  kick  against  the 
pricks."*  I  can  tell,  from  my  own  past  experience,  that  youp 
neart  and  your  language  do  not  always  agree.  You  are  some- . 
times  constrained  to  reverence  the  people  you  affect  to  despise  ; 
and  orten,  when  you  boast  of  jollity  ana  pleasure,  you  feel  some- 
thing within  that  makes  you  wish  you  could  change  conditions 
with  a  sheep  or  a  dog.  I  doubt  not  but  you  understand  what  I 
mean.  Why,  then,  should  you  remain  in  this  miserable  bondage, 
when  there  is  One  able  to  set  you  free  ?  Perhaps  you  have  con- 
cluded that  vou  have  gone  too  far  to* stop  ;  that  you  have  sinned 
with  too  high  a  hand  to  be  forgiven.  A  secret  despair  of  this 
kind  is  Satan^s  great  engine,  by  which  he  hurries  many  sinners  wO 
the  most  dread^l  extravagancies.  But  mav  I  not  allege  my  owr 
case  for  your  encouragement  against  sucn  a  conclusion  ?  You 
have  probably  heard  that  1  was  once  "  a  persecutor,  a  blasphe- 
mer, and  injurious."t  I  was  so  indeed,  to  a  degree  I  cannot  ex- 
press. But  I  obtained  mercy.  The  exceeding  abundant  grace 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  brought  me  out  of  that  dreadful  state, 
arid  in  his  providence  he  has  placed  me  amongst  you,  that  if  I 
only  pass  you  in  the  street,  you  may  have  a  proof  before  your  eyes 
of  his  gracious  declaration,  that "  all  manner  of  sin  and  blasphemy 
shall  be  forgiven  to  men  for  the  Son  of  man's  sake.  There  is  for- 
giveness with  him,  that  he  may  be  feared."J  Oh  that  I  could 
prevail  with  you  to  seek  him  while  he  is  to  be  found,  to  submit 
to  him  before  the  gate  of  mercy  is  quite  shut !  then  "  I  am  sure 
iniquity  should  not  be  your  ruin  :''§  for  "  he  is  able  to  save  to  the 
uttermost  all  that  come  unto  God  by  him."||    At  least  let  me  give 

irou  one  caution  :  do  not  make  the  Scripture,  or  the  people  who 
ove  it,. the  subjects  of  your  wanton  mirth.  *'  Be  not  a  mocker, 
lest  your  bands  be  made  strong.lf"  A  common  proverb  says, "  ft 
is  ill  jesting  with  edged  tools."  I  am  sure  it  may  be  applied  in 
the  present  case.  If  the  cause  you  despise  is  the  cause  of  God,  it 
will  be  a  dreadful  thing  to  be  found  fighting  against  him. 

VF.  There  remains  a  considerable  number  to  whom  1  have  not 
yet  spoken,  who  may  know  they  arc  not  believei*s,  yet  are  tolera- 
bly regular  in  their  attendance  upon  the  means  of  grace,  and  arc 
not  habitually  guilty  of  gross  and  open  sins.  I  commend  you  for 
your  readiness  to  hear  the  Gospel,  and  rejoice  that  it  has  some 
influence  upon  your  conduct.  But  I  would  caution  you  against 
resting  in  outward  privileges,  or  thinking  yourself  safe  because 
you  have  escaped  the  abominations  in  which  you  see  some  others 
live.  There  are  other  sins  which,  though  not  so  heinous  in  the 
judgment  of  man,  are  sufficient  to  ruin  the  soul. .  If  you  "  love  the 

# 
•  Acts,  ix.  5,  ft  Tim.  i.  13—16.  t  Matt.  xii.  31.    fstdm  exxx.  4*. 

^  Ezek.  xvuL  30.        ||  Heb.  Tii.  i5,        f  Isa.  xxriii.  55- 


560  Air  ADBBESS  TO  THE 

world,  the  love  of  the  Father  is  not  in  you.*  To  be  caraally 
minded  is  death.f  Covetoasness  is  idolatry.^  If*  you  are  under 
the  prevailing  power  of  passion,  pride,  and  resentment,  yoo  are 
strangers  to  the  grace  of  God-'*§  In  a  word,  "  If  you  have  not 
the  Spirit  of  Christ,  you  are  none  of  hi8.||  A  form  of  Godliness 
without  the  power,ir  will  leave  you  helpless  and  hopeless.  Can 
you  be  content  to  be  no  more  than  chaff  amongst  the  wheat,** 
to  converse  and  worship  with  the  people  of  God  for  a  season  here, 
and  then  to  be  separated  from  them  for  ever  f  If  you  should  see 
those  whom  you  know  and  love,  your  friends  and  relatives,  received 
into  the  kingdom  at  last,  and  you  yourselves  shut  out,f  f  how  awful 
will  your  disappontment  be  !  May  the  Lord  awaken  yon  to  a  diU 
igent  search  into  your  own  hearts,  and  into  his  Holy  Word,  and 
not  sufler  you  to  take  up  with  any  thing  short  of  a  real  and  sav- 
ing change  !  *^  Look  to  Jesus,  the  author  and  finisher  of  faith  :"}| 
who  is  eialted  to  be  a  Prince  and  a  Saviour,  to  give  repentance 
and  pardon,  life  and  immortality  :''^<§  and  remember  you  have 
his  faithful  promise,  ^*  Him  that  cometh  unto  me,  I  will  in  no 
wise  cast  out.|||| 

I  can  truly  say,  my  dear  friends,  that  "  my  heart's  desire  and 
prayer  to  God  for  you  is,  that  you  may  be  saved."irir  As  some,  I 
fear,  have  hitherto  heard  in  vain,  and  some  will  not  hear  me  at 
all,  I  have  chosen  this  method  to  address  you  all ;  I  hope  none 
will  be  offended,  for  I  would  not  willingly  offend  a  child.  I  hope 
I  can  appeal  to  yourselves,  that  God  has  given  me  a  desire  to 
live  peaceably  with  all  men,  and  to  the  utmost  of  my  power,  to 
promote  your  welfare.  *'  I  seek  not  yours,  but  you."***  In  a  lit- 
tle time  "we  must  all  appear  before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ/'ftt 
There  I  must  give  give  an  account  of  my  ministry,  and  you 
must  account  for  the  privileges  with  which  you  have  been  favour- 
ed. When  I  think  of  the  solemnities  of  that  day,  and  the  worth  of 
your  immortal  souls,  I  am  at  loss  for  words  suitable  to  my  desires 
on  your  behalf.  "  I  beseech  you  by  the  tender  mercies  of  our 
God,"Jf  J  "  I  warn  you  by  his  approaching  terrors,^'^^^  that  j'^ou 
receive  not  this  grace  of  Goll  in  a  preached  Gospel  in  vain.|||||| 
And  though  I  cannot  expect  to  prevail  on  you  all,  yet  I  write  in 
hope,  that  a  blessing  from  the  Lord  will'make  the  reading  of  this 
paper  useful  to  some.  And  if  it  be  so,  even  to  one  person,  I 
ought  to  esteem  it  an  over-payment  for  the  labour  of  my  whole 
.  life. 

*  1  John,  ii.  15.  f  Rom.  viii.  6.  J  Col.  iii.  5.  ^  Gal.  t.  20. 

frRom.  vii.  9.  f  «  Tim.  iii.  5.  **  Matt  iii.  12.  ft  L«*^^  xiii.  25—30. 
1$  Heb.  xii,  2.  ^^  Acts,  v.  31.  ||l|  John,  vi.  37.  %%  Rom.  x.  I. 
***  2  Cor.  xii.  14.  itt  2  Cor.  iii.  10.  m  Rom.  xii.  1.  l^^^  2  Cor.  v.  lU 
iU  2  Cor.  Ti.  1, 


INHABITANTS  OP  OLNXT.  dCrl 

And  now  I  commend  you  to  God,  to  the  word  of  hit  grace,  and 
to  the  teaching  of  his  Spirit.*  I  make  it  my  earnest  request  to 
the  favoured  few  who  know  the  Lord,  and  have  received  the  spirit 
of  prayer,  that  in  your  supplications  at  the  throne  of  grace,  yon 
will  frequently  bear  in  remembrance, 

Your  affectionate  Friend  and  Servant 

in  the  Gospel  of  Christ, . 

JOHN  NEWTON. 


*  Acts,  XX.  Sfl. 


Vol.  IV.  71 


A  TOKEN 

OP 


TO  THB  PAK1SHIONBR8  OF 

ST.  MARY  WOOLNOTH  AND  ST.  MARY  WOOLCHURCH, 

LOJfDOjf. 


ACT8)  xxvi.  S. 
I  beseech  thee  to  bear  me  patiently^ 


A  TOKEN 

OF 

AFFECTION  AND  RESPECT. 


I  BESEECH  THEE  TO  HEAR  ME  PATIENTLY. 

Mt  respected  Friends, 

It  being  impracticable  to  wriie  separately  and  distinctly  to 
every  person  in  the  parishes  with  which  I  am  connected  as  a  Min^ 
ister ;  1  cannot  offer  you  this  testimony  of  my  sincere  regard  for 
your  welfare^  without  availing  myself  of  the  conveniency  of  the 
press.*  And  I  wish,  while  I  express  myself  with  freedom,  to  ob- 
serve the  same  respect  and  tenderness,  as  if  I  had  an  opportunity 
of  conversing  personally  and  severally  with  each  of  you.' 

My  income  from  the  parishes  is  legally  settled,  and  regularly 
and  readily  paid.  I  am  well  satisfied  with  it ;  and  have  only  to 
wish,  on  this  bead,  that  the  people  of  my  charge  may  be  benefit- 
ted by  the  ministry  which  they  jointly  contribute  to  support.  I 
acknowledge,  likewise,  with  thankfulness  to  God  and  to  you,  that 
in  the  occasional  intercourse  I  have  had  amongst  you,  I  have  ne- 
ver received  the  least  personal  incivility  or  unkindness  from  any 
one.  Though  I  cannot  but  know  and  lament,  that  the  subject- 
matter  of  my  preaching  is  to  many  of  you  not  pleasing  ;  and 
though  several  steps  I  have  thought  it  my  duty  to  take,  must  ap- 
pear, to  someof  you,  unnecessary  and  troublesome  innovations,  I 
have  met  with  no  direct  and  studied  marks  of  opposition  or  ill-wilL 
Your  conduct  has,  in  this  respect,  been  worthy  of  the  politeness 
and  humanity  which  distinguish  yon  on  other  occasions. 

The  only  cause  of  complaint,  or  rather  of  grief,  which  you  have 
given  me  is,  that  so  many  of  those,  to  whom  I  earnestly  desire  to 
be  useful,  refuse  roe  the  pleasure  of  seeing  them  at  church  on  the 
Lord's  day.  My  concern  does  not  arise  from  the  want  of  hearers. 
If  either  a  nnmerous  auditory,  or  the  respectable  characters  of 

*  A  passage  is  omitted  here,  expresstve  of  the  author's  determination  to  con- 
fine this  address  to  his  parishioners  ;  but  as  his  executors  consider  this  as  appli* 
cable  only  to  the  period  of  its  publication,  thfy  have  not  scrupled  to  insert  the 
address  among  his  posthumous  writings. 


666  A  TOUN  OP  AFFECTIOK  AMD  EESPECT. 

many  of  the  individaals  who  compose  it,  could  satisfy  me,  I  might 
be  satisfied.  But  I  must  grieve  while  I  see  so  few  of  my  owa 
parishioners  among  them.  Let  me  entreat  your  favourable  atten- 
Uon,  while  I  respectfully  and  affectionately  expostulate  on  this 
head. 

The  general  design  of  my  ministry  in  this  city  might,  and  I 
trust  would,  have  been  answered,  if  it  had  pleased  God  to  place 
rae  in  some  other  parish.  But  He  saw  fit  to  fix  me  amongst  you. 
This  appointment^  as  it  ought  to  give  you  a  preference  in  my  re- 
gard, and  to  make  me  studiously  solicitous  to  promote  your  ad- 
vantage ;  so,  likewise,  it  gives  you  a  more  immediate  and  par- 
ticular interest  than  others,  in  the  event  of  my  services.  How- 
ever little  worthy  of  your  notice  in  any  -other  view,  if  I  ara  a 
servant  of  God,  a  minister  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  if  I  speak  the 
truth  in  love,  how  can  I  bat  be  pained  at  the  thought,  that  many 
to  whom  the  word  of  salvation  is  sent*  refuse  to  hear  it,  and  rc^ 
ject  the  counsel  of  Grod  against  themselves  !f 

I  am  unwilling  to  suppose,  and  yet,  when  I  consider  the  progress 
of  infidelity  in  the  present  day,  1  cannot  but  fear  that  there  may 
be  some  amongst  you,  who  absept  themselves  from  the  church,  not 
so  mnch  from  a  dislike  of  what  may  be  called  my  scheme,  or  my 
sentiments,  as  from  a  disregard  to  religion  in  general,  at  least  to 
the  Christian  religion.  I  know  how  to  pity  persons  of  this  un- 
happy turn,  for  it  was  too  long  my  own.  It  is  not  only  a  hazardous, 
but  an  uncomfortable  state ;  for,  notwithstanding  their  utmost 
address  and  endeavours,  they  cannot  wholly  avoid  painful  appre- 
hensions lest  the  Bible,  which  they  wish  to  be  false,  should  prove 
to  be  the  truth.  It  was  thus  with  me,  and  it  must,  in  the  nature 
of  things,  be  thus  with  every  infidel.  To  doubt  or  deny  the  truth 
of  Christianity  is  too  commob  ;  but  to  demonstrate  that  it  is  false, 
is  an  utter  impossibility.  I  laboured  long  in  the  attempt,  but 
when  I  least  expected  it,  I  met  with  evidence  that  overpowered 
my  resistance ;  and  the  Bible  which  I  had  despised,  removed  my 
scepticism.  He  against  whom  1  had  hardened  myself,  was  pleas- 
ed to  spare  rae ;  and  I  now  live  to|  tell  you,  that  there  is  forgive- 
ness with  him. 

But  the  greater  part  of  you,  I  am  persuaded,  will  agree  with  me 
thus  far  at  least,  that  the  Scripture  is  a  divine  revelation.  But  do  not 
someof  you  act  inconsistently  with  your  acknowledged  principles  f 
Can  you  reconcile  your  conduct  to  the  precepts  of  God,  or  to  the 
character  of  those  who  fear  and  love  him,  as  described  either  in 
the  Old  or  New  Testament  ?  If  you  have  servants  and  dependants, 
you  expect  to  be  obeyed ;  and  do  you  profess  yourselves  the  ser- 

.  *  Acts,  xiiL  26,  f  Lake,  vii.  80.  }  Psalm  cxxx.  4. 


X  TOKEN   OF   AFFECTION   AND   BESPECT.  S67 

vanu  of  God,  and  yet  allow  yourselves  in  tbe  breach  of  bis  known 
tommandments  ?  The  habits  of  business  or  amusement  in  which 
you  live,  not  only  engross  your  time  and  thoughts  during  the  rest 
of  the  week,  but  indispose  you  for  the  due  observation  of  the  day 
which  he  has  enjoined  yon  to  keep  holy.  Yon  have  engage- 
ments of  another  kind,  which  will  not  admit  of  your  stated  regu- 
lar attendance  on  the  public  worship  of  God ;  and  if  you  con- 
strain yourself  to  be  present  occasionally,  the  light  which  a 
faithful  preacher  forces  upon  your  conscience  offends  you,  and 
makes  you  willing  to  catch  at  every  pretence  which  may  furnish 
you  with  the  shadow  of  an  excuse  for  not  hearing  him  again. 

But  this  is  not  the  character  of  all  who  have  withdrawn  them- 
selves. Some  of  you  have  not  forsaken  the  public  worship  ;  you 
attend  at  other  churches,  and  are  ready  to  complain  that  you 
have  been  driven  from  your  own.  If  you  have  candour  to  allow 
that  possibly  I  mean  well,  yet  the  manner  of  my  preaching  is  so 
different  from  what  you  were  formerly  accustomed  to,  and  from 
what  you  approve,  tbatiafter  having  heard  me,  and  perhaps  more 
than  once,  you  have  been  constrained  to  seek  new  places,  and  to 
resign  your  seats  in  your  parish  church  to  strangers.  If  I  ven- 
ture to  plead  with  you  upon  this  ground,  it  is  not  without  being 
aware  of  the  delicacy  of  the  subject.  It  will  seem  like  pleading 
my  own  cause.  But  I  am  conscious  that  I  would  not  trouble 
you  with  a  single  line  in  the  way  of  self-justification,  if  it  were  not 
for  your  sakes,  and  with  a  desire  of  obviating  such  misapprehen- 
sions as  I  verily  believe  you  cannot  retain  without  disadvantage  to 
yourselves 

As  a  protestant  minister,  and  preaching  to  protestant  hearers,  I 
not  only  take  my  text  from  the  Scriptures,  but  likewise  draw  from 
thence  the  proofs  and  illustrations  of  what  I  advance  in  my  ser- 
mons. I  frequently,  yea  constantly  appeal  to  the  Bible,  the  ac- 
knowledged standard  and  touchstone  of  religious  sentiments.  As 
a  minister  of  the  church  of  England,  when  speaking  to  the  pro- 
fessed members  of  that  church,  I  might  likewise  appeal  to  the  cur- 
rent doctrine  expressed  in  our  liturgy  and  articles ;  but  I  seldom 
do  it,  because  having,  as  I  conceive,  the  highest  authority,  the 
holy  Scripture,  on  my  side,  1  need  no  other.  If  you  could  be 
certain  that,  with  respect  to  the  points  wherein  we  differ,  the 
Scriptures  are  for  you  and  against  roe,  your  refusal  to  hear  me 
would  be  justifiable.  But  otherwise  it  behooves  you  to  be  cautious, 
lest,  while  you  think  you  only  reject  what  appears  to  you  novel  or 
impertinent,  your  contempt  should  unhappily  fall  upon  the  doc- 
trine of  the  prophets  and  apostles,  and  of  Christ  himself.  I  must 
magnify  my  office.*    On  other  occasions,  I  wish  to  demean  my- 

*»•«.  xi.  13. 


968  ▲  TOKKH  or  AFncrion  ano  &£8psct. 

self  as  the  least  of  all»  and  the  servant  of  all ;  bat  when  I  stawl  in 
the  palpit,  I  speak  in  the  name  and  under  the  authority  of  Hkn^ 
whom  we  believe  will  shortly  come  to  be  our  Judge,  and  who  has 
said,  '*  He  that  despiseth  yon,  despiseth  me."*    . 

I  mean  not  to  take  np  your  time^  at  presenti  with  a  detail  or 
discussion  of  sentiments.  I  offered  a  brief  outline  of  my  tkoughta 
and  atmS|  in  the  first  sermon  I  preached  among  you,  and  which 
was  printed  solely  with  the  design  of  presenting  it  to  yon ;  though 
by  a  mistake,  that  gave  me  pain  at  the  time,  it  became  more  pi^ 
lie  than  I  intended.  To  the  profession  I  then  made,  I  have, 
by  the  goodness  of  God,  been  enabled  invariably  to  conform. 
1  doubt  not  but  I  have  spoken  the  truth  ;f  I  have  endeavour 
ed  to  speak  it  in  love.  It  is  true,  I  have  not  dared  to  disguise  or 
palliate  my  principles.  I  account  it  a  great  mercy  to  me  that  I  have 
not  been  influenced  by  the  fear  or  the  favour  of  men.  But  my 
conscience  bears  me  witness,  that  so  far  as  truth  and  doty  woald 
adroit,  I  have  studied  to  avoid  whatever  might  give  you  offence 
or  pain.  When  I  came  to  St.  Mary  Woolnoth,  not  being  alto- 
gether a  stranger  to  what  is  called  the  world,  and  to  the  maxims 
prevalent  in  genteel  life,  I  could  not  promise  myself  very  genteel 
acceptance  as  a  preacher.  I  knew  that  if  I  would  be  faithful  to 
my  conscience,  some  of  my  hearers  most  be  displeased ;  bat 
though  I  was  constrmned  to  risk  your  displeasure,  I  have  been  so- 
licitous not  to  provoke  it,  or  to  lay  any  unnecessary  difficulties 
either  in  your  way  or  in  my  own. 

Many  persons,  whose  good  sense  and  liberal  education  exempt 
or  free  them  from  prejudices  of  other  kinds,  are  frequently  at* 
most  as  much  under  the  power  otrel^unu  prejudices  as  the  vul- 
gar. We  lament  this  more  than  we  wonder  at  it.  The  reason  is 
obvious.  In  temporal  concerns  they  examine  and  judge  for 
themselves.  But  in  religious  matters  they  are  content  to  let  oth- 
ers judge  for  them,  and  (if  I  may  so  speak)  to  swim  with  the 
stream  of  a  prevailing  opinion.  To  this  caase  I  must  ascribe 
some  of  the  exceptions  that  are  taken  to  my  ministry. 

In  almost  every  age  and  country  where  Christianity  has  been 
professed,  some  hard  name  or  term  of  reproaefa  has  been  imposed 
upon  those  who  ventured  to  maintain  a  more  evangelical  strain  of 
doctrine,  or  a  stricter  course  of  conduct,  than  was  agreeable  to 
the  spirit  of  the  times  in  which  they  lived.  Even  the  Chriiiian 
name,  honourable  as  we  may  now  think  it,  was  used  by  the  hea- 
thens, when  it  first  obtained,  as  a  stigma,  a  term  of  the  utmost 
contempt  and  hatred  ;  and  Christians  were,  by  common  consent, 
reputed  the  off^scooring  and  filth  of  all  things.^     In  a  ltk«  re^ 

*  Luke,  X.  16.  t  ISph.  iv.  Id.  1 1  Cor.  ir.  IS. 


▲  TOKBM  OF  AVPSCTION  AND  RESPECT.        ^6^ 

proachfiil  sense  the  names  of  Lollards  and  Gospellers  were  ap* 
plied  by  the  papists,  to  those  whom  God  honoured  as  his  instra* 
inents  io  freeing  our  forefatbers  from  the  sbakles  of  popery,  by 
introducing  that  light  of  trath.  which  issued  io  the  reformation. 
Men  of  the  same  spirit  were  afterwards  branded  in  protestaot  m^ 
lions  with  the  terms  Pietist  and  Paritao.  Qf  late  years  the  name 
of  Methodist  has  been  imposed  as  a  mark  and  vehicle  of  re- 
proacb.  I  have  not  hitherto  met  with  a  person  who  coald  give 
me  a  definition  or  precise  idea  of  what  is  generally  intended  by 
this  formidable  word,  by  those  who  use  it  to  express  their  disap* 
probation.  Till  1  do,  I  am  at  a  loss  whether  to  confess  or  deny 
that  I  am  (what  some  account  me)  a  methodise.  If  it  be  suppo- 
sed to  include  any  thing,  whether  in  principle  or  conduct,  ansoii- 
able  to  the  character  of  a  regular  minister  of  the  church  of  Eng^ 
Jaady  1  may,  and  I  do  disown  it.  And  yet  it  is  probable,  that 
some  of  my  parishioners  hearing,  and  easily  taking  it  for  granted, 
that  I  am  a  Methodist,  think  it  a  sufficient  proof  that  it  cannot  be 
worth  their  while  to  hear  me. 

That  I  may  not  disgust  and  weary  my  hearers  by  the  length  of 
my  sermons,  I  carefully  endeavour  not  to  exceed  three  quarters 
of  an*  hour,  at  those  seasons  when  I  have  most  reason  to  hope  for 
the  presence  of  my  parishioners.  At  other  times  I  allow  myself  a 
longer  term ;  but  even  tliis,  I  understand,  is  thought  too  long. 
If  I  considered  my  preaching  only  as  a  customary  appendage, 
without  which  I  could  not,  with  a  good  grace,  collect  my  duet, 
we  should  not  long  differ  upon  this  point.  So  far  as  brevity 
would  be  pleasing,  it  would  cost  me  little  trouble  to  please.  But 
if  the  proper  ends  of  preaching  are  to  instruct,to  admonish,  to  ex* 
hort,  and  to  persuade;  if  the  great  truths  of  Scripture  are  to  be 
explained,  illustrated  and  applied  ;  if  the  varions  known  or  pf<^- 
bable  stated  and  cases  of  the  sevefal  persons  who  compose  our 
auditories  are  to  be  attended  to;  in  a  word,  if,  as  a  preacher,  I  am 
conscientiously  to  endeavour  to  save  myself,  and  them*  that  hear 
me ;  then  I  confess  I  know  not  how  to  answer  these  ends,  were  I 
to  limit  myself  to  a  much  shorter  space  than  I  do.  And  some- 
times when  my  heart  has  been  deeply  impressed  with  a  sense  of 
the  worth  of  souls,  the  brevity  and  uncertainty  of  life,  and  tbe 
solemnity  of  that  hour  when  both  preachers  and  hearers  most  give 
an  account  of  themselves  to  God,  I  have,  perhaps,  in  defiance  of 
my  previous  determination,  been  constrained  to  exceed  it  a  few 
minutes,  thoogb  but  seldom.  I  am  persuaded  you  are  mistaken, 
when  you  think  the  length  of  4my  diseoorses  is  the  cause  of  your 
dissatisfaction.    It  is  not  so  much  tbe  length,  as  tbe  tuii^tct«niaC* 

*  1  Tioi.  iv.  le* 
Vol.  IV.  72 


VtQ  A   TOKSM  OF  AVFECTlOn  AND  &CSFE€T* 

ter,  that  wearies  you.  It  is  possible  I  could,  if  I  durst;  preack 
a  sermon,  which  though  it  exceed  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  yov 
woald  not  think  too  long.  Many  persons  can  afford  their  atten- 
tion for  several  hours  to  pleaders  at  the  bar,  or  to  speakers  in  par* 
liament,  without  weariness,  whose  patience  is  quickly  exbaosted 
imder  a  sermon,  where  the  principles  of  Scripture  are  plainly  to* 
forced,  and  a  faithful  application  of  them  is  addressed  to  the  con- 
science. I  mean  not  to  vie  with  the  public  speakers  you  admire. 
I  lay  no  claim  to  the  honor  of  an  orator,  nor  do  I  expect,  or  even 
wish,  to  engage  your  attention  by  the  elegance  and  modulaUon  of 
my  periods.  If  I  possessed  abilities  of  this  kind,  I  must  decline 
the  use  of  them*  I  must  speak  to  the  unlearned  as  well  as  to  the 
wise,  and  therefore  my  principal  aim  is  to  be  understood.  Yet  I 
would  hope  I  am  not  justly  chargeable  with  speaking  nonsense, 
or  expressing  myself  with  a  levity  or  carelessness  unsuitable  to  the 
pulpit,  or  disrespectful  to  the  auditory.  But,  alas  !  there  are  too 
many  hearers  who  seem  more  desirous  of  entertainment,  than  of 
real  benefit  from  a  sermon  !  They  do  not  act  thus  in  the  aflUrs 
of  common  life.  Were  they  to  consult  a  physician  or  a  lawyer, 
they  would  not  be  content  with  having  their  opinion  upon  a  point 
of  law,  or  a  case  of  medicine,  in  which  they  themselves  bad  no 
personal  concern.  It  is  their  oumcase  they  expect  should  be  con- 
sidered. But  when  they  come  to  church,  if  the  discourse  be  in- 
genious, and  the  elocution  of  the  preacher  agreeable,  it  suffices ; 
and  the  less  the  subject  comes  home  to  their  personal  concernment, 
the  more  (in  general)  they  are  pleased  with  it.  That  is,  they 
are  disposed  to  be  pleased  with  the  preacher,  if  he  says  nothing 
•to  make  them  displeased  with  themselves. 

Another  objection  which  I  must  likewise  treat  as  a  prejudice  b, 
that  I  am  an  extempore  preacher.  The  practice  of  reading 
sermons  to  a  public  assembly,  has  been  hitherto  peculiar  to  the 
English  nation.  Bishop  Burnet  observes,  that  it  took  its  rise 
soon  after  the  dawn  of  the  reformation  amongst  us.  Latimer  and 
other  great  men,  whose  names,  now  they  are  dead,  are  mentioned 
with  some  respect,  were,  when  iivinfr,  treated  by  many  as  if  they 
bad  been  Methodists.  They  were  contemptuously  styled  Gos- 
pellers, and  preaching  in  unquiet  times,  when  there  were  insur- 
rections in  different  parts  of  the  kingdom,  they-.were  traduced  as 
our  Saviour  and  his  apostles  had  been  before  them,  and  charged 
with  having  a  design  to  foment  sedition  by  their  sermons.  This 
was  done  with  a  view  of  awakening  the  suspicion  and  distrust  of 
Henry  Vlll.  against  them,  who  was  a  prince  sufficiently  jealous  of 
bis  authority.  The  preachers  not  only  disavowed  the  charge, 
but  were  led  to  write  their  discourses,  that  they  might,  if  necessa- 
ry, confute  their  slanderers,  by  producing  what  they  had  actually 


▲  TOKBN   OV   AFFBCTION   AND   EBSPBCT.  ft71 

delivered*  The  like  accasatioosand  the  like  suspicions,  io  some 
succeeding  reigns,  rendered  the  same  precaution  expedient*  At 
length  the  custom  became  general  and  established.  In  most,  if 
not  ID  all  other  parts  of  Christendom,  a  man  who  should  attempt 
to  read  his  sermon  from  the  pulpit,  would  find  but  few  hearers  ; 
he  would  be  judged  disqualified  for  the  office  of  a  preacher  by  his 
own  confession.  Insomuch  that  they  who,  after  having  previously 
considered  their  subject,  are  not  able  to  speak  upon  it  with  ^ome 
degree  of  readiness,  are  obliged  not  only  to  write  their  sermons^ 
but  to  submit  to  the  burdensome  task  of  committing  them  to  mem- 
ory ;  for  reading  them  would  not  be  endured.  With  us,  on  the 
contrary,  the  prejudice  in  favour  of  reading  is  so  strong,  that 
many  people  can  form  no  expectation  of  sense,,  argument,  or  co- 
herence, from  a  man  who  preaches  without  a  book.  They  will 
require  little  more  proof  of  his  being  unworthy  of  their  notice, 
than  to  be  told  he  is  an  extempore  speaker.  Here  again,  in  the 
concerns  of  common  life,  they  judge  and  act  otherwise.  There 
is  little  doubt  but  tiie  theatres  would  t^oon  be  much  less  frequented^ 
if  the  performers  were  to  appear  with  books  in  their  hands,  and 
each  one  to  read  his  respective  part.  And  perhaps  the  theatre  is 
the  only  place  where  a  public  speaker  would  be  much  admired, 
if  it  were  known  that  he  spoke  neither  more  nor  leas  than  he  had 
previously  \letermined  to  say.  In  parliamentary  debates,  and  in 
pleadings  in  our  courts  of  justice,  the  occurrence  of  unexpected 
replies  and  objections,  and  other  new  circumstances,  renders  it 
necessary  that  a  man  should  be  so  far  master  of  his  subject  and 
his  thoughts,  as  to  be  able  to  accommodate  himself  to  those  sod- 
den turns,  which  often  lead  him  into  a  train  of  discussions  and 
arguments,  which  could  not  be  premeditated  because  the  occa- 
sions could  not  be  foreseen.  If  this  habit  and  facility  of  speaking 
ofi'-hand,  and  applying  principles  of  general  knowledge  to  partic- 
ular subjects  and  incidents,  as  they  ofier,  be  allowed,  approved, 
and  even  required  in  other  public  speakers,  why  should  it  be  sup- 
posed that  the  preacher  is  the  only  person  who  cannot,  or  must 
not,  express  his  thoughts,  but  in  that  order,  and  in  those  words, 
in  which  he  has  previously  written  them  ?  Is  not  Divinity  a  sub- 
ject sufficiently  copious }  Are  not  the  topics  which  the  Scrip- 
tures afibrd,  well  suited  by  their  importance,  certainty,  and  au- 
thority, to  awaken  the  strongest  emotions,  and  to  draw  forth  the 
highest  exertions  of  which  the  human  mind  is  capable  ?  Shall  the 
management  of  the  contested  claim  of  a  house  or  a  field,  or  the 
interests  of  contending  political  parties,  be  deemed  of  such  conse- 
quence as  to  engage  the  attention  and  admiration  of  hearers  ? 
And  shall  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  when  called  by  his  office  to 
unfold  the  wonders  of  redemption,  or  to  enlarge  on  the  tolenni 


572         A  TOKEN  Of  AFFECTION  AND  RB9PFGT. 

themes  of  jodgment,  heaven,  and  hell,  be  tlioaght  the  onljr  man 
who  has  chosen  a  sabject  incapable  of  justifying  his  earnestness, 
or  of  furnishing  him  with  such  thoughts  and  expressions  upon  the 
spot,  as  the  most  judicious  part  of  bis  auditory  need  not  disdato 
to  hear  ?  Certainly,  if  the  Bible  be  true,  a  minister  must  have 
the  advantage  of  all  other  persons  who  speak  in  a  public  charac- 
ter !  His  subject  is  more  weighty,  and  of  infinitely  more  concern 
to  his  hearers.  He  speaks  in  the  name  of  God,  and  has  an  ex- 
press promise  of  the  assistance  uf  his  Holy  Spirit,  if  not  to  super- 
sede his  faculties,  yet  to  influence,  animate,  and  guide  them,  to 
bring  things  seasonably  to  his  remembrance,  and  to  apply  them 
to  the  heart  with  a  divine  energy.  We  know  that  it  is  so  in 
fact ;  and  though  we  are  slighted,  and  perhaps  despised,  by  ma- 
ny, there  are  others  who  receive  our  testimony  with  joy,  and  will 
acknowledge,  that  what  the  world  esteems  the  foolishness  of 
preaching,*  has,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  made  them  wise  unto 
salvation.f 

I  earnestly  entreat  you,  my  beloved  friends,  seriously  to  con- 
sider these  things.  In  the  midst  of  the  various  sentiments  and 
opinions  which  prevail,  it  is  at  least  certain  that  we  are  all  mortal, 
and  that  life  is  not  only  short,  but  highly  precarious.  If  you 
believe  the  Scriptures,  you  acknowledge,  that  after  death  there  is 
an  appointed  judgment,  and  an  unchangeable,  everlasting  state. 
If  so,  should  you  not  carefully  examine  the  ground  of  your  hope, 
and  fear  even  the  possibility  of  a  mistake,  which,  if  not  rectified 
before  death,  will  then  be  fatal,  and  without  remedy  ?  If  you 
would  not  sign  a  lease  or  a  contract  without  eiamining  it  for 
yourselves,  why  will  you  venture  your  eternal  concernments  im- 
plicitly upon  the  prevailing  opinions  of  those  around  you?  Espe- 
cially, when  our  Lord  himself  has  told  us,  that  whoever  may 
be  right,  the  many  are  undoubtedly  wrong.  For  '*  wide  is  the 
gate,  and  broad  is  the  way,  that  leadetb  to  destruction,  and  many 
there  be  that  go  in  thereat ;  because  strait  is  the  gate,  and  narrow 
is  the  way,  that  leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  there  he  that  find  it.'*| 
If,  for,  the  present,  you  seem  confirmed  in  your  manner  of  think- 
ing and  living,  by  the  numbers,  names,  and  exampljes  of  those 
with  whom  you  agree ;  yet  consider,  you  must  soon  be  separated 
from  them  all.  Not  one  of  them  will  be  able  to  comfort  you  in  a 
dying  hour,  or  to  answer  for  you  to  God.  Yon  tnay  live  in  a 
throng,  but  yon  must  die  alone.  Religious  subjects  are  seldom 
the  chosen  topics  of  conversation,  in  what  is  usually  called  good 
company ;  if  occasionally  introduced,  how  superficially  are  they 
treated,  yet  how  peremptorily  are  they  decided  upon,  and  then 

*  1  Cor.  L  21 .  ft  Tim.  Hi.  15.  J  Matthev,  vii.  18. 


▲  ^OKKH  OV  AVPXCTIOK  AND  BESPECT.         573 

bow  readily  dismissed  !  Bat  sooner  or  later  their  importance  will 
be  known.  The  Scripture  is  the  rule  by  which  we  must  all  be 
judged  at  last ;  it  is  therefore  our  wisdom  to  judge  ourselves  by  it 
now.  Would  you  be  persuaded  to  do  this,  praying  to  God  for 
that  Assistance  which  yon  need  to  direct  your  inquiries,  and  which 
he  has  promised  he  will  aflbrd  to  them  that  ask  him,  it  would  have 
a  happy  effect  upon  your  principles  and  your  peace.  Search 
and  read  for  yourselves,  if  the  Scripture  does  not  speak  to  all* 
mankind  as^in  a  state  of  condemnation  ;  if  it  affords  us  any  hope 
of  deliverance  but  for  the  sake  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christf ;  if  it  inti- 
mates any  method  of  being  saved  through  him,  but  by  faith| 
wrought  by  the  operation  of  God,  and  evinced  by  a  temper  of 
love,  and  a  habit  of  cheerful  obedience  to  his  precepts:^  if  these 
points,  which  comprise  the  general  scope  of  my  preaching,  are 
contained  and  taught  in  the  Bible,  they  ought  not  to  be  spoken 
against. 

4  can  have  no  interest  to  forward  by  this  address,  except  that 
interest  which  I  feel  in  your  welfare.  1  have  no  favour  to  solicit 
from  you,  but  that  you  would  attend  to  the  things  which  pertain  to 
your  leternat  happiness.  I  can  truly  say,  I  seek  not  yours,  but 
you. II  Though  I  am  not  indifferent  to  yonr  good  opinion,  so  far 
as  respects  my  integrity  and  moral  character,  yet  it  is  a  small 
thing  with  me  to  be  judged  of  man's  judgment ;  nor  would  your 
united  approbation  content  me,  except  I  could  hope  it  was  found- 
ed in  your  cordial  acceptance  of  the  Gospel  which  I  preach.  I 
have  taken  this  method,  as  it  seemed  the  only  one  in  ipy  power, 
of  acquainting  some  of  yon  with  my  sentiments,  which  yet  it  high- 
ly concerns  you  to  know  ;  not  because  they  are  mine,  but,  (I  speak 
it  with  confidence,)  because  they  are  true,  and  of  the  utmost  con- 
sequence. However  amiable  and  benevolent  in  your  private  cha- 
racters, except  you  are  born  again,ir  born  from  above,  delivered 
from  the  love  and  spirit  of  the  world**,  and  made  partakers  of  the 
love  and  spirit  of  the  Lord  Jesns,f  f  you  cannot  be  accepted  of 
him  in  the  great  approaching  day  of  his  appearance.  My  heart 
longs  for  3'our  salvation  ;  but  whether  you  will  hear,  or  whether 
you  will  forbear,  I  must  take  your  consciences  to  witness,  that  I 
have  been  faithful  to  you.  If  after  this,  (which  may  God  forbid  !) 
any  should  perish,  1  am  clear  of  their  blood.^]:  Permit  me  to 
make  one  request.  It  is  not  likely  that  I  shall  ever  trouble  you 
itk  this  way  again,  and  therefore  I  would  entreat  you  to  preserve 
this  paper.     If  it  makes  no  impression  on  you  at  present,  a  more 

*  Rom.  ill.  19.  f  Acts,  tv.  12.  X  Mark,  xvi.  1 R.  ^  Col.  ii.  12.  Gal.  ▼.  6. 
1  Pet.  i.  2.  II  2  Cor.  xii.  14.  II  John  iii.  3.  **  Gal.  i.  4.  ff  Rom.  viii.  9, 
tt  AcL^,  XX.  2«. 


$74  A  TOKEN  OF  AlrirBCTlOll  AND  RB8PXCT. 

favourable  season  may  come.  If  you  pay  but  little  attention  to  it 
in  your  prosperity,  a  time  of  affliction  may  invite  you  to  peruse  it 
again.  If  you  regard  it  not  while  I  am  living,  you  may,  sboold 
you  survive  me,  read  it  more  carefully  after  my  decease.  It  is 
however,  probable  that  some  of  you  will  not  survive  me.  Deatk 
may  be  even  at  your  door.  If  the  thought  of  such  a  visitant  be 
unwelcome  to  you,  it  is  owing  to  a  secret  consciousness  that  jfou 
are  not  prepared  for  it,  and  therefore  you  seek  refuge  from  the 
painful  apprehension,  in  a  round  of  business  or  pleasure ;  perhaps, 
ibr  the  present  with  too  much  success.  Yet,  sooner  or  later,  the 
hour  you  dread  must  come.  "  It  is  appointed  for  all  men  once 
to  die,  and  after  death  the  judgment."  There  we  shall  all  meet 
May  the  Lord  God  so  influence  your  minds  now,  that  ourmeetiog 
then  may  be  comfortable  and  happy  ! 

Thus  far  I  have  written  chiefly  to  those  who  absent  themselves 
from  the  church.  But  I  thank  God  I  am  not  wholly  deserted  by 
my  parishioners.  With  regard  to  those  who  have  patience  and 
candour  to  hear  me,  I  have  a  hope  that  what  may  now  seem  harsh 
and  difficult  in  my  sermons,  may  hereafter  approve  itself  to  their 
judgment.  No  person  in  the  congregation  can  be  more  averse 
from  the  doctrines  which  I  now  preach  than  1  myself  once  was. 
This  gives  me  encouragement  for  others,  especially  when  tbey 
are  willing  to  attend  on  the  means  which  God  has  promised  to 
bless.  For  faith  cometh  by  hearing.*  If  I  at  any  time,  contrary 
to  my  intention,  uttered  a  single  sentence  in  my  own  spirit,  or  (bat 
might  give  them  just  cause  of  ofieoce,  I  should  be  glad,  if  I  knew 
it,  to  ask  their  pardon. 

Some  of  you  there  are,  (may  God  increase  the  number,)  wN 
not  only  hear,  but  approve,  because  they  have  an  ezperieace  in 
their  own  hearts  that  I  speak  the  truth.  They  have  felt  the  evil 
of  sin,  and  the  necessity  of  a  Saviour.  They  have  received  the 
record  God  has  given  of  his  Son,  and  place  their  whole  depend- 
ence upon  him,  as  their  wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctification,  and 
redemption.f  To  these  I  can  address  myself  with  more  freedoR^* 
You  know  the  difficulties  of  my  situation,  and  will  assist  me  with 
your  prayers.  I  trust,  likewise,  you  will  assist  me  by  your  con- 
duct, and  that  your  lives  and  conversations  will  contribute  to  stop 
the  mouths  of  gainsayers,  and  constrain  them  to  acknowledge 
that  the  doctrines  of  grace  which  I  preach,  when  rightly  under- 
stood and  cordially  embraced,  are  productive  of  peace,  content- 
ment, integrity,  benevolence,  and  humility.  Many  eyes  are  upon 
you,  watching  for  your  halting,  and  seeking  occasion  by  your  mis- 
carriages, if  they  can  observe  any,  to  speak  evil  of  the  way  of 

*  Rom.  X.  17.  f  I  Cor.  i.  S(k 


▲  TOKEN  OF  APFfiCTION  AND  BESPSCT*  575 

trath.*  May  the  grace  of  oar  Lord  Jesos  Chrbt  enable  yoo  to 
disappoint  them,  and  make  tbem  ashamed  !  We  must  expect  some 
opposition,  many  temptations  and  trials ;  but  we  are  engaged  in 
a  good  cause,  and  we  have  a  mighty  Saviour,  a  compassionate 
friend,  a  prevailing  advocate.  He  knows  your  path ;  he  sees 
your  conflicts.  And  he  has  engaged  to  support,  to  guide,  and  to 
guard  you,  and  at  length  to  make  you  more  than  conquerors,f 
and  to  bestow  upon  you  a  crown  of  everlasting  life.]; 
I  am  your  affectionate  servant, 

JOHN  NEWTON. 
UiMaonj  Ab*.  1, 1781. 


*  t  Pet.  ii.  2.  t  Rom.  viii.  87.  J  Ref .  ii.  J  0. 


A  LETTER 

ON 

PRINTED  IN  THE  YEAR  179S. 


Vol.  IV.  73 


TO 

THE  REV.  D****  w*****»*^. 


Dear  and  Reverend  Sir, 

The  kind  present  of  your  book,  and  your  kind  intention  in 
addressing  your  sermons  to  me  by  name,  deserved  a  more  early 
acknowledgment.  I  am  pleased  with  every  mark  of  regard  from 
a  Christian  brother,  though  I  could  have  wished  not  to  be  held  up 

to  public  notice  :  and  Mr.  J 1,  who  likewise  meant  well, 

has  made  the  business  a  little  more  awkward  to  me  by  styling  me 
Doctor^  an  honour  which  the  newspapers  informed  me  (for  I  have 
no  official  intelligence)  has  been  conferred  upon  me  by  the  col- 
lege of  Prince-town,  in  America.  However,  by  the  grace  of  God, 
1  am  determined  not  to  assume  the  title  of  Doctor,  unless  1  should 
receive  a  diploma  from  a  college  in  the  New  Settlement  at  Sierra 
Leone*.  The  dreary  coast  of  Africa  was  the  university  to  which 
the  Lord  was  pleased  to  send  me,  and  I  dare  not  acknowledge  a 
relation  to  any  other. 

I  need  not  express  my  approbation  of  your  sermons  in  stronger 
terms  than  by  saying,  that  I  have  seldom  met  with  any  thing  more 
congenial  to  my  own  sentiments  and  taste.  I  read  them  with  great 
satisfaction. 

Though  I  have  very  little  time  for  reading,  had  your  whole  vol- 
ume consisted  of  such  sermons,  1  should  have  gone  through  it  much 
sooner:  but  your  lectures  on  Liberty,  though  ingenious  and  well 
written,  were  not  so  interesting  to  me.  It  was,  therefore,  longer 
before  I  could  find  leisure  to  iirnsh  them  ;  and  this  has  occasioned 
the  delay  of  my  letter ;  for  I  thought  it  would  be  premature  to 
write  till  I  could  say  I  bad  read  them. 

1  hope  I  am  a  friend  to  liberty,  both  civil  and  religious,  but  I 
fear  you.  will  hardly  allow  it,  when  I  say,  1  think  myself  possessed 
of  as  much  of  these  blessings  at  present  as  I  wish  for.  I  cap,  in- 
deed, form  an  idea  of  something  more  perfect ;  but  I  expect  no 
perfection  in  this  state  :  and  when  I  consider  the  Lord's  ques- 
tion,  ^^  Shall  not  my  soul  be  avenged  on  such  a  nation  as  this  ?''  1 
cannot  but  wonder  that  such  a  nation  as  this  should  still  be  favour- 
ed with  so  many  privileges,  which  we  still  enjoy  and  still  abuse. 

Allow  me  to  say,  that  it  excites  both  my  wonder  and  concern 
that  a  minister,  possessed  of  the  great  and  important  views  ex- 
pressed in  your  two  sermons,  should  think  it  worth  his  while  to 
appear  in  the  line  of  a  political  writer,  or  expect  to  amend  our  con- 


%t9       *  ON   POLITICAL  DCBATB* 

atitation  or  situatioD)  by  proposals  of  a  political  refonn.  Yfheu  I 
look  around  upon  the  present  state  of  the  nation,  such  an  at- 
tempt  appears  to  me  no  less  vain  and  unseasonable,  than  it  would 
be  to  paint  a  cabin  while  the  ship  is  sinking,  or  a  parlour  when  the 
house  is  already  on  fire.  My  dear  Sir,  mv  prayer  to  God  for  you 
is,  that  he  may  induce  you  to  employ  the  talents  he  has  given 
you,  in  pointing  out  tin  as  the  great  cause  and  source  of  every  ex- 
isting evil,  andto engage  those  who  love  and  fear  him,  instead  of 
losing  time  in  political  speculation,  for  which  very  few  of  them  are 
tolerably  competent,  to  sigh  and  cry  for  our  abounding  abomina- 
tions ;  and  to  stand  in  the  breach,  by  prayer,  that,  if  it  may  be, 
wrath  may  ye>'be  averted,  and  our  national  mercies  prolonged. 
This,  I  thinks  is  the  true  patriotism,  the  best,  if  not  the  only  way, 
in  which  persons  in  private  life  can  serve  their  country*  For  the 
rest,  there  will  be  always  dead  to  bury  the  dead.  The  instru- 
ments whom  the  Lord  employs  in  political  matters  are  usually  such 
as  are  incapable  of  better  employment.  All  things  and  persons 
serve  him  ;  but  there  are  sei*vices  under  the  direction  of  his  provi- 
dence which  are  not  good  enough  for  his  own  children*  Theg 
belong  to  a  kingdom  which  is  not  of  this  world  ;  they  are  stran^ 
^ers  and  pilgrims  upon  earth,  and  a  part  of  their  scriptural  char« 
acter  is,  that  they  are  the  ^'  quiet  in  the  land«'^ 

The  reasoning  for  a  more  equal  representation  in  parliament  is 
specious  ;  but,  while  infidelity  and  profligacy  abound  among  rich 
and  poor ;  while  there  is  such  a  general  want  of  principle  and 
public  spirit  among  all  ranks  ;  I  apprehend  that,  whatever  chan- 
ges might  take  place  in  this  business,  no  real  benefit  will  follow. 
The  consequence  would  rather  be  the  introduction  of  perjury, 
bribery,  drunkenness,  and  riot,  into  towns  which  have  hitherto 
been  more  exempted  jfrom  them  than  the  boroughs.  As  the  num- 
bers of  buyers  increased,  so  would  the  number  of  those  who  are 
willing  to  be  sold.  And  I  know  that  many  judicious  people  in 
Birmingham  and  Manchester  are  so  sensible  of  this,  that  they 
would  be  sorry  to  have  elections  among  them,  though  there  are 
exceptions.  1  have  so  poor  an  opinion  of  the  bulk  both  of  the 
electors  and  the  elected,  that,  I  think,  if  the  seats  in  the  house  of 
commons  could  be  determined  by  a  lottery,  abundance  of  mischief 
and  wickedness  might  be  prevented,  and  perhaps  the  nation  might 
be  represented  to  as  much  advantage  by  this  as  by  any  other 
method  ;  but  these  are  not  my  concerns* 

The  position,  that,  if  the  body  of  a  people  are  aggrieved,  they 
have  a  right  to  redress  themselves,  must  be  much  limited  and  modi- 
fied before  I  can  reconcile  it  to  Scripture.  1  am  not  fond  of  des- 
pots ;  but  I  think,  if  ever  there  was  one  upon  earth,  Nebuchad- 
nezzar was  a  despot.  Whom  he  would  he  slew,  and  whom  he 
would  he  kept  alive  ;  whom  he  would  he  set  up,  and  whom  he 


on  POLITICAL  OBBATB*  .  581 

would  he  pal  down  ;  Dan*  v.  18,  19.  Yet  Jeremiah  declares, 
that  the  Lord  bad  given  him  this  despotic  power,  and  had  com- 
manded all  the  nations  to  serve  him.  Surely,  if  you  and  I  had 
been  there,  (knowing  what  we  know  now,)  we  should  not  have  dis- 
puted this  command,  nor  have  excited  the  people,  however  op- 
pressed, to  shake  off  the  yoke  which  God  himself  had  put  upon 
them :  and  if,  for  our  sins,  the  Lord  should  put  us  under  the  power 
of  the  Russians,  I  should  rather  look  to  him  than  to  man  for  deliv- 
erance. 

I  think  a  heathen  said,  <^  The  day  which  deprives  a  man  of  his 
liberty,  robs  him  of  half  his  virtues.'^  If  I  was  a  heathen  I  should 
say  so  too.  But  the  Gospel  teaches  me  otherwise.  The  apostle 
expected  that  believing  servants,  who  at  that  time,  1  suppose,  were 
chiefly  bond  servants  or  slaves,  would  act  from  nobler  prmcioles, 
and  aim  at  a  more  sublime  end,  than  the  conception  of  philoso- 
phers had  ever  reached  to.  That  they  would  act  from  a  regard  to 
the  glory^of  God  our  Saviour,  and  to  the  honour  of  his  Gospel ; 
Tit.  ii.  10  ;  1  Tim.  vi.  1* ;  and  elsewhere  he  says,  1  Cor.  vii.  21. 
*'  Art  thou  called,  being  a  servant  ?  care  not  for  it :  but  if  thou 
mayest  be  made  free,  use  it  rather.^'  If  divine  Providence. offers 
you  a  manumission,  accept  it  with  thankfulness ;  if  not,  it  is  but  a 
trifle  to  you,  who  are  already  the  Lord's  freedman  ;  and,  in  your 
most  servile  employments,  if  submitted  to  for  his  sake,  you  are 
accepted  of  him  no  less  than  if  you  were  placed  in  the  most  hon- 
ouraole  and  important  stations.  The  Christian,  however  situated, 
must  be  free  indeed,  for  the  Son  of  God  has  made  him  so.  On 
the  other  hand,  you  and  i,  dear  sir,  know  how  much  they  are  to  be 
pitied  who  are  Irantic  for  what  they  call  liberty,  and  consider  not 
that  they  are  in  the  most  deplorable  bondage,  the  slaves  of  sin 
and  Satan,  and  subject  to  the  curse  of  the  law  and  the  wrath  of 
God.  Oh  !  for  a  voice  to  reach  their  hearts,  that  they  may  know 
themselves,  and  seek  deliverance  from  their  dreadful  thraldom. 
Satan  has  many  contrivances  to  amuse  them,  and  to  turn  their 
thoughts  from  their  real  danger  j  and  none  seem  more  ensnaring, 
in  the  present  day,  than  to  engage  them  in  the  cry,  "  Great  is  the 
Diana  Liberty  !^'  May  you  and  1  labour  with  success  to  direct 
them  to  the  one  thing  which  is  absolutely  needful,  and  abundantly 
sufficient.  The  Socinians  are  rather  the  most  forward  in  this  cry ; 
which  I  fear  will  have  a  baneful  influence  upon  the  power  of  reli- 
gion among  the  more  evangelical  dissenters.  An  agreement  in 
political  sentiments  produces  much  cordiality  and  inteixrourse  be- 
tween those  who,  in  point  of  doctrine,  have  stood  at  the  greatest 
distance.  And  already,  in  some  pulpits,  (proh  dolor !)  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  rights  of  man  occupies  much  of  the  time  which  used  to 
be  employed  in  proclaiming  the  glory  and  grace  of  the  Saviour, 
and  the  rights  of  God  to  the  love  and  obedience  of  his  creatures. 


583  M  rOtlTICAt  VttAtt. 

As  to  the  revolution  in  Prance,  I  suppose  no  humane  person 
was  sorry  when  the  Bastile  was  destroyed,  and  the  pillars  of  their 
oppressive  government  shaken.  The  French  had  then  a  great 
opportunity  put  into  their  hands.  I  pretend  not  to  jud^e  of  the 
political  merit  of  their  constitution  :  but,  if  I  approved  it  in  other 
respects,  I  durst  not  praise  it  so  strongly  as  you  do,  while  I  knew  it 
was  planted  in  atheism,  and  has  been  watered  with  deluges  of 
human  Mood  ;  while  1  knew  it  began  in  insult  to  Christianity,  and 
aimed  at  its  abolition. 

However,  their  first  admired  constitution  is  now  at  an  end,  and 
has  no  more  force  than  the  repeated  oaths  by  which  they  bound 
themselves  to  maintain  it.  And  now,  not  content  with  pleasing 
themselves,  they  are  aiming  to  force  their  schemes  upon  the  sur- 
rounding nations* '  1  should  call  this  Quixotism  in  the  extreme,  if 
I  did  not  consider  them  as  saws  and  hammers  in  the  hand  of  the 
Lord.  So  fiur  as  they  are  his  instruments  they  will  succeed,  but 
not  an  inch  further.  Their  wrath  shall  praise  him,  to  the  full  ex- 
tent of  its  acting,  ^nd  be  subservient  to  his  designs;  the  remainder 
of  it  he  will  restrain.  And,  when  he  maketh  inquisition  for  the 
blood  they  have  wantonly  shed,  and  for  their  defiance  of  his  great 
name,  neither  their  phantom  liberty,*  nor  their  idol  Voltaire,  wiD 
screen  them  from  his  notice. 

I  am  sorry  for  your  severe  censures  on  the  present  administra- 
tion. For,  when  I  compare  the  state  of  the  nation  in  the  year 
1783,  or  at  the  time  of  the  king^s  illness,  with  what  it  is  now,  I 
cannot  but  think  that  the  providence  of  God  raised  up  Mr.  Pitt 
for  the  good  of  these  kingdoms,  and  that  no  man  could  do  what  he 
has  done,  unless  a  blessing  from  on  high  had  been  upon  his  coun- 
sels and  measures.  I  speak  simply  ;  having  nothing  to  hope,  or, 
as  I  think,  to  fear  from  men  in  power,  I  am  not  concerned  to  vindi- 
cate the  conductof  ministry  in  the  lump  ;  but  I  believe,  though  it 
be  easy  to  draw  up  theories  and  schemes  in  the  closet,  which  may 
look  very  pretty  and  plausible  upon  paper,  difficulties  will  occur 
in  the  aamiaistration  of  a  great  people,  which  can  scarcely  be 
conceived  of  by  persons  in  private  life.  And,  with  respect  to 
Britain  at  present,  I  believe,  if  tBe  prophet  Daniel  was  at  the 
bead  of  our  affairs,  or  if  all  our  ministers  were  angels,  the  corrup* 
tion  and  venality  of  the  times  would  labour  hard  to  counteract 
their  designs. 

There  is 'no  new  thing  under  the  sun.  When  I  read  Salusl-s 
account  of  the  Jugurlhine  war,  1  seem  to  read  (mutatis  mutandis) 
our  own  history.  The  wealth  and  luxury  which  followed  the  suc- 
cesses of  Lucullus  in  Asia,  soon  destroyed  alt  appearance  of  pub- 
lic spirit  in  Rome.  Our  acquisitions  in  the  East  have  had  a  simi- 
lar effect.  I  know  some  persons  who,  after  giving  full  proof  of 
their  incompetency  to  manage  their  own  private  affairs ;  after  bay- 


ON  rOLlTICAL  DBBATK*  583 

iag  ruined  their  families  by  dissipiation,  and  stained  their  charac- 
ters by  fraud  and  bankruptcy,  have  presently  set  up  for  national 
reformers*  I  am  very  sorry  they  should  seem  to  have  the  sanc- 
tion of  such  a  name  as  yours* 

I  know  not  even  the  names  of  the  gentlemen  who  compose  the 
society  of  ^^  the  friends  of  the  people,''  and  consequently  have  no 
prejudice  against  their  characters.  But  you  yourself  are  sorry, 
and  seem  surprised  that  they  should  adopt  an  eulogium  upon  Mr, 
Paine.  I  am  sorry  likewise,  but  I  am  not  surprised.  £x  pede 
Herculem  !  I  rely  more  upon  this  feature  than  on  all  their  declara- 
tions. When  you  say  that,  allowing  them  to  be  men  of  penetra- 
tion, nothing  more  is  necessary  to  establish  the  purity  of  their  in- 
tentions, it  sounds  very  strange  to  me,  when  I  consider  it  as  the 
sentiment  of  the  author  of  the  two  sermons  which  1  have  read  with 
so  much  pleasure.  Surely  it  cannot  accord  with  your  knowledge 
of  human  nature ! 

When  our  Lord  was  upon  earth,  he  refused  to  be  a  judge  or  a 
divider.  And  he  said,  afterwards,  ^^  My  kingdom  is  not  of  this 
world  ;  if  it  were,  then  would  my  servants  fight."  I  should  think, 
as  Peter  thought,  that  if  an^  thine  could  have  justified  resistance  in 
a  disciple,  that  was  the  time  wnen  Jesus  was  apprehended  by 
wicked  men,  to  be  condemned  and  crucified  ;  but  his  master 
rebuked  his  zeal.  I  think  that,  as  Christians,  we  have  nothing  to 
expect  from  this  world  but  tribulation — no  peace  but  in  him.  If 
our  lot  be  so  cast  that  we  can  exercise  our  ministry  free  from 
stripes,  fines,  imprisonment,  and  death,  it  is  more  than  the  Gospel 
has  promised  us.  If  Christians  were  quiet  when  under  the  gov* 
ernment  of  Nero  and  Caligula,  and  when  persecuted  and  hunted 
like  wild  beasts,  they  ought  to  be  not  only  quiet,  but.very  thank"* 
ful  now.  It  was  then  accounted  an  honour  to  suffer  for  Christ* 
Of  late,  the  rights  of  man  are  pleaded  as  a  protection  from  the 
ofience  of  the  cross. 

Had  I  been  in  France  some  time  ago,  and  if  by  going  between 
the  contending  parties  I  could  have  reconciled  them,  I  certainly 
ought  to  have  done  it.  But  to  take  a  part  in  their  disputes  my- 
self, and  to  become  openly  and  warmly  a  Jacobin  or  a  Feuillant, 
would  be  ridiculous  in  me,  if  all  my  connexions  and  interests  were 
in  England,  and  I  expected  in  a  few  weeks  to  leave  France  fdr 
ever.  In  this  view  I  consider  myself  now.  If  I  had  wisdom  or 
influence  to  sooth  the  angry  passions  of  mankind,  whether  whigs 
or  tories,  I  would  gladly  employ  them  ;  but,  as  to  myself,  I  am 
neither  whig  hor  tory,  but  a  fnena  to  both.  I  am  a  stranger,  and 
a  pilgrim.  My  JloKmuiM,  my  charter,  my  aghts,  my  treasures  are, 
I  hope,  in  heaven,  and  there  my  heart  ought  to  be.  In  less  than 
a  few  weeks  I  may  be  removed  (and  perhaps  suddenly)  into  the 
unseen  world,  where  all  that  causes  so  much  bustle  upon  earth  at 


584  ON   POLITICAL  DSBAT&.     . 

present,  will  be  no  more  to  me  4ban  the  events  which  took  place 
among  the  antediluvians.  How  much  then  does  it  import  me,  to 
be  found  watching,  with  my  loins  girded  up,  and  my  lamp  burning, 
diligently  engaged  in  my  proper  calling  !  For  the  Lora  has  not 
called  me  to  set  nations  to  right,  but  to  preach  the  Gospel,  to  pro- 
claim the  glory  of  his  name,  and  to  endeavour  to  win  souk. 
Happy  is  that  servant,  whom  his  Lord,  when  he  corned),  shall 
find  SiO  doing  f  In  the  hour,  when  death  shall  open  the  door  into 
eternity,  many  things  which  now  assume  an  air  of  importance, 
will  be  found  light  and  unsubstantial  as  the  baseless  fabric  of  a 
vision. 

I  know  not  whether  the  length  and  freedom  of  my  letter  may 
not  require  an  apology,  as  much  as  my  long  silence.  But,  as  I 
give  you  full  creait  for  what  you  say  of  your  candour  towards 
those  who  differ  fi*om  you  in  sentiment,  I  am  the  less  apprehensive 
of  offending  you.  From  the  perusal  of  your  sermons,  I  have  con- 
ceived a  great  respect  and  affection  for  you.  Though  we  may 
not  meet  upon  earth,  I  trust  we  shall  meet  where  all  are  perfectly 
of  one  mind.  In  the  mean  time,  I  set  you  down  in  my  heart  as  a 
friend  and  a  brother.  As  I  was  forced  to  write,  both  duty  and 
love  obliged  me  to  be  faithful  and  free  in  giving  you  my 
thoughts. 

I  recommend  you  to  the  care  and  blessings  of  the  Great  Shep- 
herd and  Saviour,  and  remain,  for  his  sake, 

Reverend  Sir, 
Your  affectionate  friend  and  brother, 

J.N. 


INDEX. 


A. 

Aaron's  behaviour  oo  the  lots  of  his 

Hi.  l9o. 
Jibbaditt  Mr.  reflections  of,  on  our  ignorance 

rtpcctiiig  ibe  docirine  of  the  Trioity,  iii 

Abet,  cause  of  the  death  ofi  iii.  72. 

^bdiely  Milton's  character  of,  applicable  to 

the  belierer,  i,  305. 
SbtahoMy  in  what  sense  tempted  by  God,  i. 

•— iusiified  by  faith  ia  the  promised  seed,  iii. 

—  highly  favoured  by  God,  iii.  78. 
-^  and  ilie  other  patriarchs,  shepherds,  iii. 

120. 

—  rejoiced  to  see  Christ's  day,  iii.  305. 
Access  to  God,  noiio  but  by  Christ,  ii.  198. 
Accidents,  consoling  considerations  under, 

iv.  A^. 

—  happen  by  divine  appointment,  iv.435. 

—  anecdote  of  a  pious  woman,  suffering  un- 
der, iv.  436. 

Accommodation,  a  useful  way  of  preachings 

iii.  192. 
Acquaintance,  extensive,  ensnaring,  iii.  483. 
Actions,  no  real  goodness  in  the  most  spe- 

cious,  unless  performed  to  the  glory  of  God, 

i.  ^84. 
Acts  of  Apostles,  the  only  certain  history  of 

apoeiobc  age,  ii.  322. 
Adamy  in  what  sense  he  died  the  moment  he 

eat  the  forbidden  fruit,  i.  355. 

—  lost  not  rationality,  bnt  spirituality,  i.  566. 

—  consequences  of  his  fall,  iii.  66,  70,  73, 
233,814,320. 

—  received  a  promise  of  the  Redeemer,  iii. 
143,233.804. 

—  fall  of,  foreseen  and  provided  for,  iii.  176, 
819. 

jiddi$on^  Mr.  supposes  imaf;i  nation  alone  ca- 
pable  of  producing  happiness  or  misery,  i 

Addres$  to  the  inhabitants  of  01  nev,  iv.  553. 
Addresses  to  careless  sinners,  ii.  138. 

—  to  mourners,  ii.  138. 
— -  to  weary  and  heavy  laden,  ii.  145. 
A^T)fMVSfV)  meaning  of,  iii.  187. 
Adiaphora,  disquisition  concerning  nature 

and  limits  of  unnecessary,  i.  333. 

Monaif  a  name  of  God,  iii.  53. 

Advantase  of  reviewing  our  past  history,  t.7. 

Mveniy  uu  Oreat,  a  sermon,  iii.  523. 

Advent  of  Christ,  good  grounds  on  which  be- 
lievers should  rdoiee  at  the  prospect  of 
the  second,  iii.  587. 

midvoeaUf  Christ  oar.  if.  279. 

Vot.  IV. 


Affection,  token  of,  to  the  inhabitants  of  Si. 
Mary  Woolnoth,iv.  663. 

Affections,  on  the  snares  and  eonforls  of  so- 
cial and  relative,  iv.  506. 

Afflictions,  advantages  of,  i.  451,  570,  583, 
iv.  248, 250. 

— >  appointed  by  God,  i.  320,  ii.  129,  iv.  S53. 

—  consolations  under,  iii.  447,  461. 

—  our  duty  under,  i .  433. 

—  light,  compared  to  the  glories  of  heaven, 
iii.  32,  74,  197. 

—  trials  of  faith,  not  tokens  of  displeaf  ore, 
iii.  178.  ^^ 

—  nerewmry  in  our  present  state,  iv.  41^. 

—  our  future  views  of,  iii.  47. 
~*  why  appointed,  i.  321,  ii.  129,  iii.  297. 

—  the  fruit  of  sin,  iii.  32. 
Africans,  civilised  state  of  the  native,  i  v.  .541 . 
African  slave  cocttt,  description  of,  i.  29,  iv. 

534.  »  I-  »         . 

Africa,  author's  first  voyage  to,  iv.  15. 

—  second  voyage  to,  iv.  61. 

—  third  voyage  ro,  iv.  94. 
African  Stave  Trade,  thoughts  upon  the,  ir. 

531.  »  a  r-  I      . 

—  impolicy  of  iv.  636. 
— -  dangers  attending,  iv,  536. 

immoral  tendency  of,  iv.  538. 
cruelties  of,  iv.  540.    See  Slaves. 
As^pp^j  king,almo«t  persuaded  to  be  a  chjrjf- 

tian,  ii.  365. 

See  Herod  Agrippa. 
A/wvjo,  meaning  of^  iii.  187. 
AhUhapkelj  counsel  of.  to  Absalom,  iii.  301. 
Alcbymy,  the  true,  i.  284. 
Atextmder  the  Great,  an  instrument  to  pA- 

pare  Messiah's  way,  iii.  39. 

—  anecdote  of,  improved,  iv.  289. 
Alienation  from  God,  a  coaseqaence  of  tAe 

fall,  iii.  71. 
AU  things  givenm  tDith  Chriitf  sermoo  on,  i?, 

45. 
Allegorical  interpretation,  shook]  be  escd 

with  caution,  iii.  191. 
Alteine,  Joseph,  account  of,  referred  to,  i.  74. 
Americay  reflections  oo  our  contest  with,  t. 

306,  iv.  578. 

—  principal  events  intended  to  promote  the 
accomplishment  of  the  prophecies,  iii.  289. 

~~  present  state  of  the  gospel  in,^  iii.  294. 

—  reflections  en  late  revolution  in,  iii.  300. 
Amusements,  polite,  danger  of,  i.  337. 
Anamat  the  high  priest  commands  Paul  to  be 

smitten,  ii.  359. 
Ananias  and  Sapphka^  awful  jodgment  on, 

ii.30S. 
Anatomy,  niritunl,  the  stndy  ef  the  hsHtm 

heart,  i.  291. 
74 


686 


INDEX. 


Ava^rouffd),  neanins  of,  ii.  154. 
Anecdote  of  a  pioos  woman  suffering  under 
a  broken  bone,  iv.  436. 

—  of  Alexander  the  Great,  iv.  S89. 
^  of  Dr.  Butler,  Bishoi)  of  Durham,  iv.  493. 
.^  of  Dr.  Conyert,  i.  368. 

—  of  dying  perwns,  i.  a9«,  iv.  392. 

—  of  a  diMcnting  minister,  iii.  409 

—  of  a  young  woman,  iv.  288. 
'.^  of  the  great  Seldcn,  iii.  44t. 
Angel,  menage  and  aong  of,  iii.  99. 
Angels,  on  the  ministry  of,  i.  249. 

—  how  we  sliottld  endeavour  to  resemble,  i 
SIS. 

—  light  in  which  would  view  earthly  Uimgs 
if  resident  here,  i.  313. 

.—  admire  the  work  of  redemption,  i.  313. 

—  not  so  indebted  to  grace  as  believers,  i. 
314. 

^  difference  between  their  holiness  and  thai 

ofsinners,  i.465. 
^  cannot  preach  the  Gospel  so  well  as  men, 

ii.316.  ^         ^   ... 

^  cannot  join  in  tongof  the  redeemed,  in 

84,M7,371. 

—  contemplate  incessantly  Chrut  crucified; 
iii.  89.  .       ,     , 

— desire  to  look  into  the  mysteries  of  ret  lemp- 
tion,  iii.  161.  ^  , 

—  confirmation  6f  those  who  continue  holy 
is  in  Christ,  iii.  St7.  ^^ 

—  as  the  Lamb  that  was  slain,  ui.  382. 

—  their  chorus,  iii .  381 . 
*"  diversily  of  ranks  and  orders  amongst,  iii 

383. 

—  styled  the  elect  angels,  iii.  391 . 

—  the  ministers  of  the  Almij^htv,  in.  392. 
-^  regard  the  human  race  with  benevolence, 

iii.  392.  , .     . 

—  perhaps  present  in  our  worshipping  as- 
semblies, iii.  392. 

—  fallen,  no  redemption  for,  iii.  227. 
Anger  unbecoming  the  followers  of  Jesus,  i 

—  against  sin,  lawful,  i.  242. 
Animals,  wonderful  instinct  of,  iii.  283. 
Antichrist,  fall  of,  predicted,  iii.  295. 
Jfftftiumiianf,  account  of  the  true,  ii .  433. 
Antinomianism,  St    Paul  probably  accused 

of,  ii.43S.  .. 

jlftfuN-h,  8»ie  of,  at  different  periods,  u  36, 

—  present  state,  a  warning  to  us,  ii.  38. 
^  Gospel,  when  first  preached  at,  ii.  318. 
Awirotftferai,  meaning  of,  ii.  60. 
A«^xa^oxia  explained,  i.  198. 
Apostacy,  final,  every  sin  tends  towards  it, 

—  the  root  of,  is  a  disposition  to  question  the 
divine  appointments,  i.  471. 

jSpoUot  meets  with  Paul,  ii.  M3. 

—  goes  to  Corinth,  ii.  344. 
j9(pos(lf9,  their  exhortation,  i.  165. 
-«  characters  and  callings  of,  previous  to  as- 
cension, ii.  282. 

—  delivered  by  miracle,  ii.  303. 
^  by  advice  of  Gamaliel,  ii.d04. 
— '  scourged,  ii.  304. 

—  n^oMC  under  disgrace,  ii.  301. 


,SpodU$  sefmrate  to  preach  go^iel  in  varioitf 

districts,  ii.  322. 

•  great  uncertainty  in  the  accounts  of  their 
laliours,  ii.373. 

.  competent  witnesses  of  Christ's  resurrec- 
tion, iii.  314. 

Apostolical  Fathers  inferior  to  many  protee- 
tant  divines,  ii.  384. 

Application  to  Christ,  implied  in  coming  to, 

^quiia  and  PriscUh  meet  with  Paul,  ii.  340. 
ArchimedeSf  enthusiaiMn  of,  iii .  92. 
Arithmetic,    sciiptural,  what  it  teaches,  i. 

308. 
Ark,  probably  many  assisted  in  building  wba 

perished  iu  waters,  iii. 679. 
^rminiun,  the  term  very  indiscriminate,  i. 

353. 
Articles  of  faith,  propriety  of  subscription  Co 

some,  i.  344. 

—  of  Church  of  England,  favour  Calvinism, 
iii.  439. 

^sidf  tendencv  of  late  events  in,  iii.  289. 
Assttrance  of  taithf  sermon  on  the,  ii.  235. 

—  thoughts  on  the,  iv.  496. 

—  af  acceptance  attainable  in  this  life,  i. 
317. 

■—  the  refuU  of  competent  spiritual  knowl- 
edge, ii.  233. 

—  declines  by  grieving  the  spirit,  i.  318. 

—  hindered  by  pride  and  unbelief,  iv.  498. 

—  not  good  for  us,  until  we  know  something 
of  the  evil  of  our  heaits,  iv.  600. 

Assurmnce^  or  Faif/i,  invariably  produces  good 
fruits,  iv.  600. 

—  not  essential  to  being  of  faith,  1. 118,  234, 
ii.22C. 

AsRurance  hindered  by  insincerity,  indo- 
lence, misapprehension,  &c.  ii.  231. 

—  on  what  St.  Paul's  rested,  ii.  231. 

—  humbles  the  soul,  iv.  235. 
•^  inconsistent  with  a  careless  and  trifilaf 

S|.irii,iv.  S64. 
^  striking  instance  of,  in  a  person  danger- 
ouslv  ill,  i.  655. 

—  dif^rent  opinions  on,  ii.  227. 
Assurance  and  faith. rest  on  same  gtoundA, 

"•  229. 

Assurance  of  hope,  nature  of  considered,  iii. 
307. 

Aihanasian  cieed,  damnatory  clauses  of  the, 
justified,  i.  343. 

Atheism,  guilt  the  parent  of,  iii.  66. 

Aihdgls^  seldom  met  with  but  where  the  Bi- 
ble is  known,  iii.  80. 

—  perfections  of  God  glorified  in,  iii.  145. 

—  efficacy  of  complete,  iit.  146. 

—  depends  on  the  character  of  Christ,  m. 
388. 

—  doctrine  of  fundamental,  iii.  312. 

—  esseniial  to  the  Gospel,  iii.  665. 
•~-  neccssitv  of,  iii.  466. 
Amibutes  of  Gud  offeusive  to  carnal  mind,  ii. 

Au([vstwej  confessions  of,  recommended,  iii. 
444. 

—  appealed  to,  iii.  170. 
•  said  b^  some  to  be  the  first  who  held  elec- 
tion, iii.  356. 


ISDXX. 


•87 


Ati^guaim^  th«  iMmitifal  lines  of  Horace  to, 
impious  and  idolatrous;  but  perfectly  be* 
comiag  the  mouth  of  a  chriviiaii|  aildrass- 
iog  himself  to  God,  i.  S8S. 

AttstenUf  character  of,  i.  t£7. 

Auihor*  narrative  of  the,  i.  U 

—  preuftce  to  the,  i.  6. 

—  birth  and  parenta|{«  of,  i.  ll,  IS. 

—  loses  bis  mother,  i.  IZ. 

—  sent  to  school,  i.  IS. 

—  ^oes  to  sea,  i.  IS. 

«—  IS  settled  in  Spain,i.  13. 

—  proTidenttal  deliverances  of,  i.  IS,  5S,  61 
•—  partial  reformations  of,  i.  IS. 

—  meets  with  Shaftesbury's  Characteristics, 
i.  14. 

•^-  eoes  into  Kent,  and  falls  in  love,  i.  16, 16. 

—  first  interview  with  Mrs.  M.  iv.  46. 

—  sails  to  Venice,  i.  18. 

—  remarkable  dream  of,  i.  19. 

—  impressed  and  sent  on  board  the  Har- 
wich, i.  SI,  iv.  47. 

Author  meets  with  an  infidel  companion,  i 

—  deserts  his  ship,  retaken,  degraded,  and 
punished,  i.  SS. 

—  sails  to  Madeira,  i.  S6. 

—  enters  on  board  a  Guinea  ship,  i.  86. 

—  arrives  in  Africa,  i.  S6. 

—  determines  to  remain  in  Africa,  i.  S7. 

—  ondergoen  |reat  hardships,  i.  31. 

—  obtains  deliverance,  i.  34. 
— '  returns  to  finsland,  i.  39. 

—  in  danger  of  Aipwreck,  i.  40. 

—  alarmed  with  a  sense  of  sin,  and  led  to 
pray,  1.43. 

—  obtains  further  views  of  religion,  1. 46. 

—  arrives  in  England,  i.49. 
*^  obtains  bis  father's  consent  to  marry,  i. 

49. 
~~  goes  oot  as  mate  to  Africa,  i.  6ft. 

—  studies  various  languages,  i.  53, 67,  69. 

—  sails  to  AntigiM,  i.  54. 

—  returns  to  E^iigland  and  marries,  i.  65. 
^  remarks  of  acquaintance  on  his  marriage, 

vr.  47. 

—  sails  as  captain  to  Africa,  i.  67, 63. 

—  seised  with  a  fit,  i.  66. 
•~>  obtains  the  office  of  dde  surveyor  at  Lit- 

en«ool,  i.68. 

—  a|)plies  for  ordination,  i.  71 . 

—  picture  of,  described,  iv.S93. 

—  received  not  the  gospel  from  man,  iv. 
327. 

—  reasons  why  not  a  dissenter,  iii.  413, 496, 
43S,434. 

—  God's  merciful  dealings  with.  iv.  S76. 

—  experience  and  dcHires  of,  iv.  S45,  S86. 
—>  an  avowed  Cnlviaiet  iv.  3«6. 
Aulhont^  y  Chruit  Sermon  on,  ii.  1S6. 


Babes,  term  jnsdy  applicable  to  true  Cbris- 

tiaas,  ii.  106. 
Backsliders,  mournful  feelings  of,  ii.S16. 
Backwardness  to  prayer   and  reading  the 

Scriptures,  exhortation  against,  i.47£ 
Mtofwim,  Mr.  martyrdoM  of,  iii.  134. 


Baptism,  that  of  Christ  aad  of  Joiia  diflereM, 

iii.  4i4. 
BapHsUf  differences  ia  church  govemiMBt 

among,  iii.  426. 
Banxbbaty  preferred  by  the  Jewe  to  Christ, 

iii.  16i. 
Barnabaty  preaches  at  Antiocb,  ii.  318. 
'-  carries,  with  Saul,  alms  to  Jerusalem,  ii. 

321. 
^-  dissembles  with  Peter,  ii.  329* 

—  takes  Mark  and  sails  to  Cyprus,  ii.  331. 
Barren  fie-tree,  of  what  emblematic,  iii.  6$. 
Baxter^  Mr.  character  of,  i.  412. 

—  some  passages  of  his  writings  recommend- 
ed, i.  413. 

Babylon,  mybtical  destruction  of,  iii.  S8t. 
Btde,  venerable,  bis  singular  eaceptiott  to 

the  good  character  of  a  eotemporary,  i. 

695. 
Begotten,  term  applied  to  Christ's  incaraa- 

iion  and  resurrection,  iii.  SS4. 
Bdievert  cautioned   against  misooaduct,  a 

sermon,  ii.  174. 

—  absolute  submission  of,  to  God's  will,  iii. 
116. 

—  abstain  from  inexpedient  things,  i.  334. 

—  accept  Messiah  as  the  ground  of  agree- 
ment oetween  God  and  niaa,  iii.  349. 

—  a  knowleflge  of  God  their  only  proper 
ground  of  glory  and  joy,  i.  200. 

—  address  to,  ii.  131,  138. 

^—  advantage  they  derive  from  reliance  oa 
God's  all-snffictency^  i.  276. 

—  aflUctions  of,  outweighed  bv  Goapel-blese- 
ings,  iii.  31, 33  iv.  443,  274;  442. 

—  trials  of  faith,  not  tokens  of  displeasure) 
iii.  178. 

—  all-sufficient  plea  of,  iii.  233. 

—  all  thinp  will  work  together  for  good,  i. 
63S. 

—  are  always  learning,  iii.  139,  iv.  315. 
•~  ambassadors  of  Christ,  iv.  298. 

-»  aotii^ipate  by  faith  the  joys  above,  iii.  S34. 

—  approach  to  God  by  faith,  iii.  48. 

—  atwuranee  of  tribulation,  a  mark  of  their 
adoption,  iii.  336. 

—  attached  to  Christ  by  bis  love,  iii.  193. 

—  benefits  tKey  derive  from  persecution,  iii. 
363. 

—  bleseedness,  in  what  their  prerent  con* 
sists,i.317. 

—  blessedness  of  those  already  dead,  iii. 
387. 

—  character  of,  i.  $34,  iv.  400. 

—  oharacters  of,  best  collected  from  that  of 
Chriiit,  iii.  111. 

—  charitable  to  those  who  differ  from  them, 
i.331. 

"^  Christ  ever  present  with  them,  iii.  139. 

—  Christ  in  tbetn  the  hope  of  glory,  iii.S38. 
--^  Christ's  personal  presence  not  essential 

to  their  earthly  happiness,  iii.  S91. 

—  comfort  of,  that  they  are  not  under  the 
law,  but  under  grace,  i.  S79. 

—  communion  with  the  Lord  aa  important 
part  of  their  Messedaesi,  i.  318. 

—  compared  to  sheep,  iv.  362 

•••  conduct  of,  judged  narshly  of  by  the  worU, 
ii.  178. 


681 


inDej:. 


BeHit0$  ebailictii  th«  pt^t  caas*  of  Ui«tf, 

i.  432. 
-^  «U  lead  to  Tietory,  iv.  524. 
^-  eonforaied  to  Christ's  Spirit^  iii.  79. 
*-  more  than  eoaqoarori  by  faith,  iii.  S16, 

546,  IT.  344. 

—  crucified  to  tha  worid  by  cro0  of  Christ, 
Hi.  197. 

—  death  of,  pracioof  in  God*s  sight,  iii.  353. 

—  sleep  io  Jesos,  iii.  169. 

—  delivered  fron  guilt  by  faith  io  Christ's 
ateoement,  iii.  196. 

•—  derive  life  and  fraitfulness  from  Christ, 
iii.  1T7. 

—  descriptioD  of,  i .  263. 
•«-  the  disciples  of  Christ,  iii.  137. 

—  draw  the  water  of  salvatioo  from  tha  Bi- 
ble by  prayer,  i.  565. 

*-  the  elect  or  Christ,  iii.  147. 

—  enemies,  wby  not  overcome  by,  iii.  |78. 
•—  eridences  of,  truly  humble,  i.  275. 

— *  eaperience,  in  what  their  consists,   iii. 

390* 
-*  the  flock  of  Christ,  iii.  ISS. 
-»  riorious  privileges  of.  iv.  209. 

—  God  not  less  glorifiea  by  iheir  obedience 
than  that  of  Gabriel,  i.  4&5. 

—  God's  parfMse  in  favour  of,  cannot  be  dis- 
appointed, i.  273. 

—  GiMi  their  Father,  iii.  49. 

—  God   their  happiness,  and  heaven  their 
borne,  iii.  49, 105. 

—  God's  husbandry,  iv.  270. 

—  the  good  of,  explained,  ii.  176. 

—  I^rieved  with  sins  of  others,  and  thus  dis- 
tinguished from  mere  professors,  i.242. 

--« have  experimental  evidence  of  Christ's 

resurrection,  iii.  317. 
-^  happiness  of,  when  released  from  the 

body,  iii.  323. 
— .  happiness  of,  in  Chriiit,  iii.  49,  57,  95, 

109. 
...  a  branch  of  the  joy  set  before  Christ,  iii 

162. 
•^  depends  not  on  local  circumstances,  iii. 

290. 
— -  heightened  by  previous  misery,  ill.  83. 
— -  highest  love  ot,  to  Christ,  beneath  what 

they  owe,  i.587. 
-^.  how  Christ's  condescension  should  affect 

them,  iii.  302. 

—  how  they  should  walk  with  God  in  the 
dai^  occurrences  of  life,  i.  282. 

— •  hope  their  unshaken  ground  of,  i.  278. 
...  honoor  they  derive  from  Christ's  exalta- 
tion, iii.  228. 
...  inconsistency  of,  accounted  for,  i.  264. 

—  intercession  of  Christ  renders  their  pray 
ers  prevalent,  iii.  366. 

—  inheritance  secure  against  all  calamities, 
iv.418. 

—  in  what  sense  inspired  by  the  Holy  Spirit, 
ii.298. 

-w  in  what  sense  should  endeavour  H  be  as 

the  angels  now,  i.  21 1. 
-^irradiated  by  Christ,  iii. 79. 


Beliamnf  knowledge  of,  not  merely  ipcosl^ 
tive,  iii.  116. 

—  life  of,  a  continual  warfare,  iii.  913.33ft. 

—  living  members  of  the  mystical  cnarch, 
iii.  285. 

—  love  of,  a  decided  mark  of  true  religion, 
iv.  136. 

—  many  trne,  have  not  aasuranoe,  i.  26, 231 
-*  marks  by  which,  may  judge  whether  they 

truly  love  the  Lord,  i.  656,  iv.  342. 

—  Messiah,  their  complete  justificatioa,  iii. 
178. 

—  motives  of,  for  confidence  in  the  Lord,  Iii. 
302,349. 

—  numbers,  small  in  comparison  of  nnbetie- 
vers,  iii.  255. 

—  object  iSf  that  God  may  be  glorified  ia  aod 
by  them,  i.  283. 

-^  on  what  supposition,  involved  io  gviliof 
idolatry,  iii.  223. 

—  of  all  ajges  and  countries  entertain,  in  ge- 
neral, similar  views,  iv.  S26. 

—  opposition  they  are  to  expect,  iii.  351. 

—  former  opposition  to  the  gospel,  a  proof  of 
doctrine  or  election,  iii.  958. 

—  partakers  of  divine  nature,  iii.  112. 

—  peculiar  spirit  required  in,  in  times  of 
prevailing  oegeneracy,  i.  336. 

—  perfections  of  Christ  adequate  to  all  tbsir 
wants,  i.927. 

•  perplexities  of,  ariae  from  undue  attscb- 
meat  to  self,  i.  285. 

-  the  |)eople  of  Christ,  iii.  147. 

—  persuasion  of  their  accepunce  attaiasUe 
in  this  life,  i.  917. 

—  prove  that  they  are  a  saved  people,  ui. 
112, 116. 

-  primitive,  not  faoUlesa,  but  sincert,  ii* 
294. 

—  gradually  advanced  under  Christ's  tneb- 
iiig,  ii.  2S4. 

—  predestiuHted  to  adoption,  iii.  147.     ^ 

—  privilege  of,  a  term  often  misundeniood, 
i.95. 

~  greatness  of  their  privileges,  iii.  301 

-  recolleeiion  of  Christ's  saflTeriDK*  c»vm 
them  to  glory  in  tribulation,  iii.  lo8, 196. , 

^  rendered  benevolent  by  Christ's  exsmpki 
i.  330. 

-  renounce  all  confidence  in  the  flesb,  nt* 
105. 

-  rest  of,  in  Christ,  ii.  170. 

-  resurrection  of  Cbri»t,  pattern  and  pledge 
of  theirs,  i.  307,  iii.  290. 

-  religion  of,  a  reasonable  service,  in- H* 

-  religious  service  of,  pleasant,  iii.  1 19. 

-  the  onljr  rich  and  happv  on  earth,  in.*'* 
.-  risen  with  Christ,  iii.  207. 

-  rales  of  their  conduct,  i.  333. 
-salvation  of,  the  end  of  Christ's cosusg 

into  the  world,  ii.  111. 

-  safety  of  afflicted,  iv.  241.  ,.. 

-  saved  under,  but  not  by  the  law,  in.  30.. 

-  on  earth  as  safe  as  those  in  heaves,  it. 
241.  . 

-  serve  God  incommoD  dniiesof  lifsjif.*** 


WDBX. 


58» 


Believers,  tiM  of,  «lietli«r  mmd%  ksowa  to 
oibert,  i.  82. 

—  toldien  or  Christ,  iii.  S67. 

—  ■onie  things  which  abate  the  comforts  of 
their  professioo  not  properlv  sinful,  i.  fi63. 

—  spiritnal  rest  of,  iii.  139, 141. 

—  sqried  God's  elect,  iii.  S65. 

—  sufTerings,  spectacles  to  aogels.  i.  S67, 

—  superior  knowledge  of  gospel  discoveries, 
iii.  30. 

—  support  of,  at  the  approach  of  death,  iii. 
345. 

•—  sufferings  and  obedience  of  Christ  impu- 
ted to,  iii.  908 

'—  taught  b^  Christ's  example  to  suffer  pa> 
tjeaily,  iii.  203. 

^  temples  of  the  living  God,  iii.  238. 

<-  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  iii.  238. 

—  their  ideas  "of  salvation,  iii.  350. 

—  triumphant  finally,  i.  272. 

—  triumphant  song  ojT,  iii.  346. 

—  unable  to  do  what  they  would,  i.  267.  « 

—  united  by  love  to  the  chiefsood,  i.  328. 
^  warfare  of^  i.  387, 401, 427, 418. 

—  weakest  or  them  children  of  God,  iii.' 361. 

—  why  not  overwhelmed  under  sufferings,  as 
Cbnst  was,  iii.  169, 185. 

—  why,  though  creatures  still,  impeccable  in 
heaven,  iii.  385^ 

— *  why  said  not  to  die,  but  sleep  in  Christ, 
ill.  »4, 344. 

—  wisdom  of,  superior  to  that  of  schools,  iii. 
38o. 

Bedxehubj  Christ's  miracles  perversely  ascri- 
bed to,  iii.  183. 

—  Milton's  description  of,  ascribed  to  man, 
iii.  322. 

BecoUen,  meaning  of  the  term,  iii.  223. 
JUuhazxar,  allusios  to  the  hand-writing  he 

saw.  iii.  42. 
BdhUhan  more  illustrious  than  Babylon  or 

Bome,  iii.  41. 

—  why  called  the  city  of  David,  iii.  102. 
Bible,  absurdity  of  supposing  it  can  be  un 

derstood  without  study,  iii.  328. 
...  contains  nothing  useless,  ii.  64. 
..•  the  comprehensive  and  exclusive  treasury 

of  ministerial  knowledge,  iii.  471. 
...  remarks  on  the,  i.  139. 
.,.  every  preacher  should  be  tried  by,  ii.  210. 
,..  folly  and  guilt  of  neglecting,  ii.  206. 
...  fountain  of  life,  i.  263. 
...  furnishes  the  on\y  instance  of  grandeur 

united  with  simplicil^^  iii.  114. 
...  internal  evidence  of  its  divine  revelation, 

iii.  76. 
...  justly  demands  reverence,  iv.  41 1. 
...  letter  on  reading,  iv.  465. 
...  should  be  read  throughout,  iv.  466. 
...  a  sealed  book,  till  the  heart  be  awakened, 

i.422. 
...  superior   excellence,  even  as  a  human 

composition,  iii.  203. 
...  value  of  the  English  translation  of,  iii.  69. 

See  Gospel,  and  Word  of  God. 
Bigotry  sanctifies  every  hateful  passion,  iii 

Birth  days,  nsnal  mode  of  observing  Iiighly 
iiii)9riipcr,  b*.  l*^.- 


Birth  days,  folly  of  woridly  Dersons,  is  rtjoi« 
cins  at  the  return  of,  iv  362. 

Blasphemy,  how  punished  among  the  Jews, 
iii.  164. 

Blemishes  observable  in  some  Christian  cha- 
racters, letter  on,  i.  226. 

Blessednomi  of  the  believer,  in  what  it  con- 
sists, i.  317. 

Blessing,  different  meanings  of  the  term,  iii. 
387. 

Blindness,  on  spiritual,  i.  166. 

Blood  of  Christ,  figuratively  used  for  his 
death,  iiL  374. 

Boasting,  what  effectually  excludes,  i.  273, 
311. 

...  excluded  by  Gospel,  ii.  116. 

Body  and  mind  have  a  reciprocal  influence, 
iii.  29. 

Bcrmer,  bp.  accuses  primitive  Christians  of 
heresy,  iv.  461, 4^. 

Books,  a  medium  in  the  choice  of,  i.  £05. 

...  several  recommended,  iii.  400, 443. 

Brazen  serpent,  alluded  to,  i  366, 432. 

efficacy  of,  iii.  146. 167.  192, 242. 

Breinerd's  life  recommended, iii.  443. 

Brethren,  care  to  be  taken  not  to  offend  our 
weak,  t.  334. 

...on  love  to  the,  i.  209. 

. . .  counterfeit,  i .  209. 

Briiam,  peculiar  privileges  of,  iii.  604,  618. 

...  peculiar  sins  of,  iv.  fiSO. 

Brutes  have  no  propensity  to  such  changes  at 
would  destroy  them,  iii.  174. 

BndxUy  dying  confession  of,  iii.  162. 

Bumyan.  John,  commendation  of,  iv.  261. 

referred  to,  iv.  266. 

BuUtr,  Dr.  Bishop  of  Durham,  anecdote  of, 
iv.  493. 

C. 

Camar,  effect  of  Antony's  oration  over,  iii. 

166. 
Cake,  good  things  of  the  world  compared  to 

a,  iv.  384. 
Caligula  requires  his  statue  to  be  erected  ift 

temple  of  Jerusalem,  ii.  313. 
...  assassinated  in  his  palace,  ii.  319. 
...  detestable  character  of,  iii.  266. 
Call  to  the  ministry,  what  constitutes  a,  K 

467. 
Calvin,  not  the  inventor  of  the  doctrine  of 

election,  iii.  366. 
Calvinist,  a  term  of  reproach,  iii.  356. 

character  of  a  rigid,  iii.  466. 

tlie  author  an  avowed,  iv.  376. 
Calvinism,  the  doctrine  of  the  church  of  £n-« 

gland  until  Laud's  time,  iii.  439. 
Cavdio,    why  the    Graud    Seignor  caused 

100,000  men  to  perish  in  that  island,  i. 

338. 
Candour,  letter  on,  i.  212. 
..  nature  and  effects  of  true,  i.  213. 
,..  origin  of  false,  i.  213. 
..  extent  of  claims  of  Sucinians,  &c.  to^  i. 

214. 
...  distinction  between  true  and  false,  iv.  466. 
...  mutual,  should  be  cultivated  by  all  Chris- 
tians) iv.  SIO. 


590 


IlVDfiX. 


Caoonieal  obedieBce,  mMuioc  of,  iv.  8Mw 
Capthriiy  led  eoff(ivt^  import  of/ni.  JEM. 
CARDiraoiriA,  i.  259,  iv.  227. 
Cardifhonia^  autbor'ft  preparetioo  for  eoeiio- 

uing,  IV.  424 
CarnnI  mindy  effecfa  of,  not  the  mum  to  all, 

iii.2S5.  * 

Case,  author's  detcrib^d.  iv.  285,  286. 
CMtandra^  ministera  of  ihe  ffoapel  compared 

to,  i.  296,  605. 
Caterpillar,  woudcrfal  tranamotatioD  of,  iii. 

329. 
Cofo,  death  of,  a  proof  of  punllanimiiy,  iii. 

]5i7. 

Caution,  too  often  degenerates  into  coward- 
ice, i.  503. 

Cemtick,  Mr.  sermons  of,  commended, 
482.  ' 

Cei^monies  of  Ofd  Testament,  typical  of 
Christ,  ii.  62. 

Ceremonies,  LeviUcal,  typical  of  Christ,  ii. 
62,64.  ' 

CessatoTy  character  of,  i.  228. 

ChHracters  of  apostles  and  disciples  previous 
to  Ascension,  ii.  282. 

Character  o(  Agrijfpa^  it.  962. 

Y— —  AniinomiaMM.  ii.  4S2. 

—  Jhisttrwt^  i.  S27. 

Btliet'trtj  i.  2M,iv.  400. 

Ctssator^  i.  228. 

Dr.  Co»i^*,  iii.  546,548. 

—  Corfuiiiu,  ii.  3)4. 

—  CttriasuSf  i.  229. 
ElioniUs,  ii.  432. 

—  Faithful  Ministers,  ii.  407. 
-^—  FdiXf  ii.  360. 
GaZZto,  ii.342. 

—  Onoetics,  ii.  429. 

—  Greeks  and  Romans,  ii.  253. 

—  Herod  J  Aftripne,  ii.  319. 
■        Uumanus,  i.  227. 
. Jttdaa  the  traitor,  ii.  291. 

—  Mcolaiiansf  ii.  430. 

. S^PaW,ii.406. 

5^  Peter,  ii.  290. 

-^ —  Primitive  Christians,  ii.  409. 
/*n«/«M,  i.228. 

—  ^uerulm,  i.  229. 
— -  Stephen,  ii.  304. 
VolatUis,  i.  2^28. 

—  ilip  disciples,  illustrate  histon*  of  church, 
ii.  289. 

— —  those  whom  (he  Lord  usually  chooses, 

iv.  290. 
Charity,  towards  those  who  differ  from  us, 

Ihe  true  idea  of,  i.  331 ,  440. 

—  to  our  weak  brethren,  what  it  requires,  i. 
333. 

—  and  to  the  world  at  large,  i.  334. 
Charles  V.  Dr.  Robenann's  history  of,  in 

what  res|)ects  it  may  he  deffctive,  i.  307, 
Changes  must  be  expectp*!,  iv.  255. 
CheeifuIneMs  no  sin,  iv.  308. 
Children,  little,  scntie  in  which  have  not  sin* 

ned  after  Adam's  transj^rmscions,  iii.  378. 
-»  if  Kaved,  the  subjects  of  a  sniieroaiural 

changft,  iii.  379. 
— —  included  in  the  -election  of  grace,  iii. 

379. 


Child,  oongratuUtioBS  dft  tlie  birth  of  t,  iv. 

296. 
Children,  consoling   considerations  oa  the 

prospect  of  losing,  iv.  358. 

—  averse  from  goMi,  but  prone  to  evil,  i.  356. 
'  education  of,  an  undoubted  doty,  bni  will 
not  change  the  heart,  i.  378. 

CircnnistantialH  andeasentialsin  religioo,  re- 
marks on,  ii.  396. 
XptifWtTMroi,  meaning  of,  li.  38. 
Christ.    See  Jesus  Christ 
Christian  Jfame,  sermou  on,  ii.  35. 
Christian,  the  almost,  described,  ii.  365. 

—  compared  to  an  oak,  i.  422,  iv.  401. 

—  compared  to  a  tradesman,  iv.  280,282. 

—  conduct  of,  compared  with  that  of  world- 
ling, iv.  280. 

—  definition  of  a,  i.  326, 427. 

—  description  of  a,  ii.  40. 

--  experience  of,  eaKily  described,  bat  diffi- 
cult to  attain,  iv.  245. 

—  life  of;  a  life  of  exertion,  ii.  192. 

■—  name  of,  should  remind  us  of  our  bi^  ob- 
ligHtions,  ii.  44. 

—  name,  when  first  assumed,  iii.  137. 

—  women,  proper  oraaments  of,  iv.  489. 
Christians,  number  of,  very  great  aX  so  ear- 
ly period,  iv.  448. 

—  always  considered  as  uucharitablc,  ii. 
380. 

—  affected  with  grief  when  speak  or  hear  of 
^misconduct  of  professors,  ii.  421. 

—  authorized  \d  take  advantages  of  la«s,ii. 
363. 

—  causes  of  perplex^itics  and  disputes  asioiig} 
ill.  148. 

—  controversies  excited  by  JudaiziuS)  >■• 
327. 

•^'  derive  wisdom  and  streoffih  from  Christ, 
iii.  160. 

—  maify  so  called  have  no  right  to  the  liilei 
ii.40. 

—  exercised  and  experienced,  acqaire  coa- 
passion  and  kkill  in  dealioe  with  othen,  >• 
475. 

examples  of,  tend  to  win  eouli,  ui^ 
^5' 

—  happiness  of,  ii .  65. 

—  heathen's  account  of,  iv.  447. 

••  honourable  lehiimony  to,  iv.  450. 

—  have  now  as  much  encoarageineot  (o 
come  to  Christ  as  in  time  of  hisappcan"*^^ 
on  earth,  ii.  151. 

—  inconsistent  lives  of,  a  stamUing  block  to 
the  world,  iii.  156. 

•  in  what  sense  babes,  ii.  107. 

•  justly  described  as  such,  ii.  106. 

•  life  of,  compared  to  a  rncc,  ii.  191-    . 
easv  in  theory  but  difficult  is  practice, 

iv.  246, 320. 
justly  called  life  of  faith,  iv.  271. 

-  must  obey  God  rather  ihao  aian,  'f- 
387.  - 

-  hence  sometimes  considered  as  di«wl«c'* 
ed,  iv.  453.  ^^ 

—  motives  which  inclined  the  heatbeii* 
persecute,  ti.  378.  .       .  ,:, 

-  name  of,  first  given  at  Antioch;  vo"' 
implies,  ii.  318. 


XMVCX. 


691 


^ritiianfl  origina]^  a  tera  cf  isfaay,  ii.  919, 

—  prioiiiive.  btaevolaot  »nd  duintorwiad 
spirit  of,  if.  902. 

—  peratcated  b^  Nero,  ii.  974. 
'    Domitian,  li.  977. 

— .  Pliny,  ii.  977. 

—  Trajan,  ii.  379.  ^ 
•—  priniute,  tubmiaaioB  of,  to  the  Rooian 

emperora^  iii.  266. 
— *—  worshipped  Chrtat  at  God,  iv.  461 . 

—  profesBed,  conduct  of  many,  aiailar  to 
that  of  the  Jews,  iii.  fiO. 

—  protesainf,  guilty  of  idolatry,  ii.  18. 

—  tafe  in  greatest  dangers,  iii.  A39. 
...  secret  commttaion  oT,  iv.  494, 

—  sketch  of  their  temper,!.  498,  413. 

—  true,  views  of,  great  and  subliaie,  iii.  160. 
•—  what  frame   of  mind  distinguinies  one 

from  another,  i.  274. 

—  who  the  best,  iv.  999. 

—  why  some  live  in  spirit  of  ancient  Phari- 
sees, iii.  118. 

—  witnont  trials,  compared  to  a^ill  without 
wind  or  water,  i.  684.    See  E(elie\ers. 

Christian  ministers,  essential  principles  and 

aims  of,  iii.  59,  82, 101,  137. 
^-^  shepherds  under  Chriitt,  iii.  122, 197. 
— ^  painful  anxieties  of,  iii.  126, 260.    See 

Ministers. 
Christian  soldier,  warfare  of,  iii.  939, 346. 

See  Warfare. 
Chrifttla,iiiy,  a  consistent  lysiem,  iv.97. 

—  divine  oriy^n  of,  proved  by  its  author's 
characrer,  iii.  204. 

—  earl^  corruption  of,  ii.  389. 

—  exhibits  a  beautiful  system  of  morality,  iii. 
261. 

—  gained  little  from  Coastantine's  protec 
tion,  iii.  272. 

--  ihe  great  mystery  of,  iii  242, 

—  importance  of  right  views  of  spirit  of,  ii. 
4i8. 

...  nearly  as  old  as  the  creation,  iii.  304. 
•-  the  peculiar  and  inimitable  mark  of,i.  300. 

—  protession  of,  unavailing,  ii.  43.  ^ 

—  progress  of,  and  evidence  of  its  divine  ori- 
ginal, ii.  42. 

—  promotes  the  interest  of  man,  iii.  116. 

—  rests  oa  Christ's  resurrection,  iii.  207, 
313. 

--  vnrions  attempts  to  hinder  progress  oC,  ii. 

902,303. 
Christendom  indebted  for  its  superior  a<l- 

vantages  to  the  knowledge  of  revelation, 

iii.  269. 
-«-  general^  face  of,  exhibits  but  little  of  the 

go«|)el,  iii.  295. 
Cliristiologia,   Vr,  Owen's,  alluded  to,  iv. 

481. 
Christmas,   manner  ia  which  ought  to  be 

kept.  iv.  70. 
Chumn,  scriptural  meaning  of  the  word,  iii, 

286. 

—  rapid  increase  of  the  primitive,  ii.  901. 
— •  triumphant  exulution  of,  iii.  91 . 

—  ofCbrbt,  description  of  the  true,  iii.  415. 
•— .-  comprises  all  the  members  ef  his  my»> 

(ical  bodv,  iii.  48. 


Cbarch  of  God,  seetirity  of,  iv.  137. 
•  the  Old  Testament,  to  what  compared^ 
iii.  28. 

—  defective  knowledge  of,  of  the  Memi- 
ah,  iii.  30. 

>  of  Eaglaad,  articles  of,ettabUshed  by  law, 
iii.  960. 

—  reasons  for  preferring,  iii.  414, 426,492.* 

—  Greek,  wretched  sute  of,  iii.  295,  979. 
..  Roman,  deplorable  errors  of,  iii.  379. 

—  probably  contains  sooie  true  Christiani^ 
iii.  418. 

Churches^  apostolic,  irregularities  and  offen- 
ces in,  ii.  409. 
Church  government,  assumed  infallibility  of 

persons  of  different  sentiments,  iii.  419. 
— ~  difficulties  in  deducing  a  system  of,  frons 

the  New  Testament,  iii.  4E2. 
*-~  sentiments  of  an  Utopian  dissenter  up* 

on,  iii.  477. 
Cioerot  moral  system  of,  superior  to  that  of 

modern  deists,  iii.  80. 
C/aitffnit,   bestows   kingdom    of  Judea  oa 

Agrippa,  ii.919. 
CUmtnt"*  first  epistle  lo  Corinthians  usefnlt 

but  not  faultless,  ii.  984. 
Comfort  not  necessarily  the  resalt  of  strong 

faith,  iv.  111. 
Comforter  promised  to  the  Church,  iii.  78. 
•—  promise  fulfilled,  iii.  297. 
Citming  to  ChriM,  sermon  on,  ii.  146.  ^ 
— —  implies  persuasion  of  bin  power,  ii.  147. 
-——  sense  otoar  need,  460. 
— —  actual  application,  t^. 
— —  a  following  of  his  example,  ih. 
Common-place  books  recommended,  iii.  494. 
Communion  with  God,  letter  on,i.  180. 
— -  an  important  part  of  the  believer's  ble«> 

edness,  i.  918. 

—  afibrds  the  beat  relaxation  from  the  eares 

of  life,  512. 
--.—  mark  of  true  religion,  ii.  46. 
Communion  with  saints,  letter  on,  i.  185. 
Complaints  of  ourselvrA  often  proceed  from 

corrupt  motives,  iv.  349. 
Compliments,  religious,  the  most  unseemly 

of  any,  i.  464. 
Compnri«ons,  scriptural,  must  be  understood 

with  limitation,  iii.  17:2. 
Concerts  and  oratories  to  be  avoided,  i.  994. 
Coudescensinn,  meaning  of,  iii.  141 . 
Conduct  of  Christian  and  worldling  compar- 

ed,iv.286. 
Conflicts,  great  cause  of  the  believers,  i, 

— .  the  believers,  all  lead  to  \ictoryjiv.  929. 
Confonnity  to  the  world,  letter  on,  i.  162. 
Conformity  to  God,  mark  of  true  religion,  ii. 

45. 
Congregntioo,  deKription  of  the  author's,  iv. 

Conquerors,  io  what  light  they  mav  be  view- 
ed, i.  398. 

—  ot  ancient  times  instruments  of  God's 
vengeance,  iii.5-*M. 

Conscience,  Christ  the  sole  Lord  of,  iv.  466. 

—  difference  between  the  convictions  of  and 
.  the  workings  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  i.  36(1. 


599 


JLKDIBX. 


Conscience^  rales  for  the  directioD  of  a  ten- 
der and  acropulous,  i.  3S8. 

—  void  of  offence^  necessaiy  to  a  believer** 
happiness  here,  i.  318. 

—  terrors  of  a  guilty,  iii.  S77. 
Consideration,  the  doty  of,  i.  431. 
Considerations  calcnlaied  to  support  the  mind 

under  fears  of  trials,  iv.  467. 
Consolation,  motives  for,  on  the  death  of  a 

friend,  i.  468,571. 
•--  of  the  gospel  hidden  from  worldly  men,  i 

661. 

—  the  proper  tendency  of  sensible,  is  to  hum- 
ble the  believer,  i.  563. 

Corutantine  the  Chmtf  rapid  declension  of  the 

chorch  under,  iii.  58. 
Controversy,  letter  on,  i.  15V. 
Conversation,  the  general  tenor  of,  a  test  of 

true  religion,  iv.  443. 

—  conversation,  meaning  of  the  word  in 
Phil.ii.26S,iii.  110. 

Conversion,  scriptural  aceoontof,i.351. 

—  described  in  scripture  by  various  names,  I 
353. 

—  not  the  being  proselyted  tn  an  opinion^ 
but  receiving  a  principle  of  divine  light 
and  life  into  the  sool,  i.  353. 

■—  sometimes  occasioned  by  dreams,  i.  410. 
-<-  every  real  conversion  miraculous,  i.  192. 

—  spiritual,  excludes  boasting,  iii.  119. 

—  its  beinf^  a  work  of  grace,  tends  to  remove 
despair,  iii.  120. 

-» of  one  sinner  more  important  than  the 
temporal  welfareof  a  kingdom^  iii.  171. 

—  remarkable,  of  Dr.  Conyers,  iii.  548. 
See  Heart. 

Converts,  you n|^,  characteristics  of,  i.  333. 
Convictions,  spiritual,  their  efiect,  i.  366. 
Conviction  of  sin,  distress  of,  ii.  142. 
Conifers  Dr.  Sermon  an  deatfi  off  iii.  545. 

—  conversion  of,  iii.  548. 

—  manner  of  instructing  his  people,  iii.  550. 

—  femarkable timidity  of,  iii.  555. 

—  chnracter  and  death  of,  iii.  546. 
Corinthy  Paul  preaches  at,  ii  340. 

Corn,  work  ot  grace  coni|Mred  to  the  growth 

of,  iii.  449. 
ComeliuSf  character  and  conversion  of,  ii. 

314. 
Corruption.  See  Human  nature,  and  Heart. 
Council,  the  first  Chri.siian,  ii.  329. 
Counsellor f  a  name  of  Christ,  iii.  93. 
Covenant  of  works,  prooeness  to  cleave  to, 

iv.  254. 
Covetousnese,  a  great  obstacle  to  a  minister's 

usefulness,  ii.  401. 

—  a  cause  ef  declension  in  spiritual  life,  iv. 
4GI. 

-—  thonghts  on,  i  v.  501 . 

-—  a  general  and  prevailing  sin  amongst  pro- 

fewors,  iv.  501. 
...  produces  many  sorrows,  iv.  504. 
Cox,  Mr.  museum  of,  illustrative  of  the  vast 

difference  in  the  Christian  life,  i.  275. 

—  further  reflections  on,  i.  575. 
Creation,  book  of,  deserves  study,  i.  141. 

—  refli»ctions on  the,  iii.  145,  215,  254.  283, 
827, 370. 


Croai,  doetriae  of  the,  happj  effects  tjf,  iiij 
89,166. 

—  of  Christ  displays  divine  perfecdon,  ii. 
135. 

-  the  knowledge  of,  sweeteas  afiUetioos,  iii. 
445. 

Crosses  inseparable  from  spiritual  minded- 
ness,  iv.  250. 

-  should  be  niunbered  among  mercies,  if. 
259. 

Cnicifixion,  the  Roman  pooishmem  for 
slaves,  iii.  164. 

—  of  Christ,  how  typified,  iii.  168. 
Cunningham,  account  of  Mitt  EHm,  iii.  501. 
Cure,  acknowledgment  of  anther's,  iv.  90. 
Curiotus,  character  of,  i.  229. 

Ctfrusj  prediction  of,  by  Isaiah,  iii.  289. 

—  an  instrument  in  God's  hands,  iii.  300. 

D. 

Daniel,  a  remarkable  instance  of  divine  pro- 
tection, iii.  353. 

Darkness,  figuratively  need  in  Scripture,  iii 
77,84,88. 

—  powers  of,  little  said  of  in  Scripture,  vet 
enough  to  make  tis  tremble,  i.  S88. 

—  can  do  nothing  but  with  tne  divine  per- 
mission, i.  288. 

—  incessant  macbinations  of,  iii.  134 
See  Satan. 

David,  never  appears  more  lively  thsn  «Iien 
remote  from,  and  longing  for  public  ordi< 
nances,  i.  565. 

—  what  quieted  his  mind  in  tribulation,  m- 
163.  ..     ^ 

—  eminently  God's  servant,  iii.  180. 

—  patience  of,  under  affliction,  iii.  195. 
Day  and  night,  reflections  on  tlie  succession 

df,  1.601. 
Day -break,  re  flectiuo«t  on,  i.^  1C9. 
Deacons,  first  a|ipointment  of,  ii.  305. 
Deafness,  reflections  on  having  been  a«»ciefl 

with,  i.  279.  .      .      l.  r 

Death,  what  reconciles  us  to  the  tboughl  oi, 

i.  264, 269. 

—  further  reflections  on,  i.  305. 

—  our  view  of  death  will  not  be  slways  u»« 
same,  i.  465.  .     .-• 

—  believer's  support  and  liapinncf*  m,  »«• 
96, 168,  195,34^387. 

-  the  first  and  second,  ii»..3^;ij^- 

—  universally  personified,  iii.  33*.      ...  ^ 

—  shall  be  swallowed  up  in  victorv,  uj.  w- 

—  armed  with  a  formidable  stiDgj,"'-^' 

—  sting  of,  removed  by  Christ,  in.  3**'  ^ 

—  to  wait  his  teaching,  most  dangerosiw- 
vice,  iv.  400.  ..    ,   .  lu 

—  circumstances  which  render  it  desiisw  i 
iv.278.  ,    r   -Afiv 

-  how  to  obtain  victory  over  the  i^^t  ' 
400.  .  50a  It 

--  instance  of  a  believer's  happy*  »•  **> 
392, 403.  ,     ^,„^rtV 

-  the  time  and  manner  of,  under  Clift« 
authority,  i.  285.  ,    orjt  'Hti- 

-  of  no  importance  to  *>«!!?'%,'*'      ' " 
"  scrtptaral  meaning  oi,  i'i-  ^^' 


JLNDEX. 


593 


Death  of  iufaAts  affords  Uttle  caiiM  or  i 

row,  iv.  347. 
Death-bed,  pious  coarene  of  a  young  wonao 

on  her,  i.  291. 

—  various  irapressions  from  different  death- 
bed scenes,  i.  293,  375,  ii.  496,  569,  672, 
586. 

Death>bed  rppcntance,  thoughts  on  a^  i.  379. 
<—  dangerous^  iii.  97. 
Death-beds,  losiances  of  terrible,  iii.341. 
^»  of  infidels  and  christians,  contrast  be< 
tween,  iii.  569. 

—  strongly  evince  the  value  of  christian  prin* 
ciplcs,  iv.  4'74. 

Deborah,  sublime  song  of,  iii.  69. 
Deceiifuiness  of  the  hearty  sermon  on,  ii.  15. 
Declensions  »f  believers  ingrease  their  ho< 

mility,  i.  237. 
Decline  in  spiritual  life,  symptoms  of,  iv, 

462. 
Deist,  should  be  treated  with  candour,  i 

214. 

—  expo<(tulation  with  a,  i.  231. 

Deity  of  Christ  and  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  on- 
ion with  the  Father,  a  doctrine  necesRnt7 
to  bo  believed  in  order  to  salvation,  i.  343. 

—  of  Christ,  proofs  of,  i.  299,  442.  41^,  ii. 
120,  iii.  121. 

— '  a  fundamental  doctrine,  iii.  53,  63, 75, 91, 
121,130,176,219,223,388. 

Degrees  in  gloi^  denied,  iv.  334. 

Denutriut^  the  silversmith,  excites  the  pop- 
ulace against  Paul,  ii,  377.    See  Paul. 

Demonstration  not  solely  aimropriatc  to  ma- 
thematical evidence,  iii.  314. 

Depravity  of  man  manifested  by  bis  opposi- 
tion to  gospel,  i.  222. 

—  of  human  nature,  total,  iii.  440. 

Desire  of  all  nations,  appropriate  title  of  the 
Messiah,  iii.  46. 

Desponding  thoughts  shonld  be  sicndfastty 
resisted,  iv.  320. 

Dcsfierate  wickedness  of  the  heart,  ii.  18 

See  Heart. 

Devcrufkire,  duke  of,  his  motto  becoming  eve- 
ry christian,  i.  399. 

j^taxoviav  €lf ,  meaning  of,  iii.  227. 

Diana,  famous  temple  nf,  at  EphcFiis,  ii. 
518. 

Diligence,  definition  of  spiritual,  i.78. 

—  necessary  to  understund  Scripture,  ii.  57. 
DionysiuSf    the    Arcopagiie,  converted   by 

Paul,  ii.  339, 
Disappointment,  what  it  generally  meuns,  iv. 

284. 
Disciples,  remarkable  particulars  in  Christ's 

choice  of,  ii.  283. 

—  primitive,  content  to  bear  scorn  and  inju 
rions  treatment  for  Christ'.*;  sake,  ii.  295. 

—  how  they  walk  with  Christ,  iv.  271. 
Discourn^emcots,  best  way  of  obtaining  relief 

from,  ii.  83. 
Disinterestedness  eminent  in  St.  PanI,  ii. 

399. 
•—  necessary  in  ministers,  ii.  400. 
Dispensations  and  nfiliclions  of  ever}'  kind 

under  Christ's  guidance,  ii.  128. 

—  the  sum  tola)  ufall,  goixf  to  the  belirvcr, 
iv.  336. 

Vol-  IV. 


Distance,  effects  of  upon  objects,  iii.  325. 
Distinction,  de.^reof,  unsuitable  to  christian 

ebaractcr,  ii.  292. 
Distraction,  various  degrees  of,  t.  323, 
Diversions,  public,  fatu  tendency  of,  i.  527. 
Dtoes,  reflections  on  the  parable  of,  iii.  387. 
Divine  nature  cannot  suffer,  iii.  199. 
— '-  necessary  distinction  in  the,  iii.  221. 

—  life  founded  on  regeneration,  iii.  456. 

^  troth,  bestex)io8ition  of,  always  before  u^ 

iv.  315. 
Doctrines  compared  to  milk  or  strong  meat, 

iii.  355. 

—  fundamental,  iv.  3S7. 
DoctrUtefpiainttsU  oftrtUf  iv.  467. 
Doctrinal  points  of  importance  may  be  sum- 
med up  in  a  few  words,  iii. 4*13. 

Domitian  persecutes  the  Christians,  ii.  377. 

—  assassinated,  ii.  377. 

Doubts  and  fears,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree 
the  common  experience  of  the  Lord's  peo- 
ple, i.  422. 

Dream,  author's  remarkable,  at  Venice.  t« 
18, 19. 

Dreams,  persons  converted  by,  i.  410. 

Dreaming  letter  on,  iv.  463. 

Dress,  propriet]^  in,  should  be  coosuhed,  es- 
pecially by  ministers,  iii.  483. 

—  remarks  on  female,  iv.  488. 
Drunkenness,  fatal  effects  of,  iii.  277. 
Duellist^,  gallantry  of,  arises  from  meanness 

ofseniimeot^  iii.  159. 
Dving  confessions  of  different  characters,  i-. 
292, 294,  iii.  012,  iv.  304.  . 


Earnest  expectation  of  the  croutarecxplaitir 
ed,  i.  198. 

Early  rising,  importance  of,  ill.  483. 

E^rtnly  comforts  doubly  sweet  if  trusted  in 
the  Lord's  hands,  iv.  "iGG, 

Ebenezer,  a  memorial  of  God's  goodness  un- 
der changing  dispensations,  iv.  215. 

Ecclesiastical  Histaru,  review  of,  ii.  251 ,  439. 

Edification  hindered  by  strife  and  disunion. 
iv.259. 

Educaiiooi  almost  universally  suited  to  add 
to  the  stimulus  of  depraved  nature,  i.316. 

—  of  children,  an  undoubted  duty,  but  wip 
not  change  the  heart,  i.  378. 

Edwards,  Mr.  discourse  of,  on  the  freedom 
of  the  will,  commended,  i.  483, 50G. 

ExflafA^er<rdai,  meaniofj  of,  iii.  187. 

Elect,  great  privilege  of,  iii.  859.  Sec  Beiler 
vers. 

Election,  on  the  doctrine  of,  i.  K)7. 

—  of  grace,  plainly  taught  in  Scripture,  \Vv. 
147,356,376. 

Elijah,  highly  favoured  of  God,  iii.  77. 

—  complaints  of,  against  Israel,  iii.  22."). 
^  translation  of,  iii.  329. 
Ebjmas,  struck  blind,  ii.  322. 
Empires,  the  great  master-wheel  in  die  rfev- 

elntions  of,  i.  307. 

—  rise,  be.  of,  made  subservient  to  progress 
of  christhinity,  ii.  257. 

England^  church  ot    Sep  Chitrch. 


594 


INDEX. 


Enclaiid  mav  be  comtidered  as  tb«  Itra«l  ofExperienetf,  author**  coslltct  id,  iv.  m 


the  New  Testament,  iii.60<k 
Enmity  to  Gofi  subdued  by  the  cross,  iii.  72. 

See  Cross.  j 

Enoch f  tran$ilniton  of,  iii.  329. 
Enthusiasm,  different  senses  of  tlic  term,  iv. 

519. 
Ephesians,  iii.  8,  remarkable  effect  ol  this 

text  on  a  worthy  clerfynuin,  i.  368. 
Epicurcaon  and  Stoics  o|)pope  Paul,  ii.  338. 
Epistles  oCaiKistolical  fiUhers  matic  the  early 

declens^ioA  nt  spiritual  Christianity,  ii.  384. 

—  to  Timotliv  anJ  Tins,  intended  to  form 
the  character  uf'^  cbribtian  minister,  ii. 
386. 

E^Btfaro,  incnning  of,  ii.  47. 
EpSuvoco}^  meanins^nf,  ii.57. 
Erior,  dellaition  of  in  its  simplest  fo»-m,  ii 
425.  ^    ,     .      „ 

—  indifference  to,  often  miscalled  charity,  •!. 
394.  ,  ,.^    . 

—  a  cause  of  decline  in  the  spiritual  life,  iv. 
469 

—  more  dangerous  when  mingled  with  truth 
iv.  459. 

—  the  surest  way  to  prevent  or  refute  is  to 
preach  the  truth,  i.  503. 

Esaeotials.  in  circumi«taotia)sin  religion,  dis* 

tinciion  i>et\veen,  ii.  397. 
Establish  me  ot,  advantages  of  miuistejrs  in 

iii.  4afi.  432. 
Eternal  life,  believers  have  a  perfect  riRlit  to 

at  first  believing,  iv.  417. 
EucUdt  studied  by  the  author  vrheo  in  slave 

ry,i.32. 
Eunuch.  Ethiopian  converted  by  Phihp,  ii 

309. 
Evomgdical  Magasine  papers  extracted  li-oro 

iv.  478. 
jE«,  ccmduct  of,  imitated  by  her  posterity, 

iii.  174. 
Everlasting  Father,  a  name  of  Messiah,  lii 

94.  .  .         ,         . 

Evil,  inqnirii"?  into  origin  of,  vain  and  perni- 
cious, iii.  390. 

—  thoiiKhis  inseparable  from  an  evil  nature, 
iv.  ;360. 

Evils,  natural,  may  be  attributed  to  sin,  in. 

73,321. 
.— — •  iucluded  ia  the  sentence  of  death,  iii. 

336. 
Exaininntion  for  orders,  account  of  the  au> 

thor's,  iv.  157. 
Exeiciscij  of  mind,  common  to  all,  but  espe* 

ciaiiv  to  ministers,  iv.  312. 

—  spiniuni,  not  a  little  influenced  bv  our  con- 
stitutional temperament,  i.  428,  447,  449. 

f  the  Lord's  view  in  permitting  us  to  pass 

through  such  a  variety,  i  607. 
Exodus,  meaning  of,  iii.  1G6. 
Exorcists,  defeated  by  the  evil  spirit,  ii.  345. 
Experience,  the  Lord's  school,  i.  428,504. 

—  contributes  gradually  to  soften  and  sweet- 
en otir  ftpiritn,  i.  439. 

•*— —  some  points  of,  considered,  1.  233. 

—  author's,  shows  preciousness  of  Christ,  iv. 
261. 

««*  goodness  of  God,  iv.  2G5, 2C8. 


-— <-  apparent  inconsistencies  in,  iv.296. 
particulars  of,  i.  51, 120,  iv.  421 . 

—  similarity  between  the  author's  and  Mr. 
Occam's,  iv.  326. 
•  what  are  s()iritua1,  iv.  343. 

—  of  true  Christians,  same  ia  kind  a«  that  of 
apostles,  thottjgh  not  in  degree,  i.  236. 

£x|)eri mental,  justness  of  the  term,  as  appli- 
ed to  religk>o,  iii.  499. 

Extempore  prayer  often  no  better  than  s 
lifeless  form,  iii.  405. 

—  preachins,  requisites  for,  i.  475. 
the  gitt  of  God,  i.  477. 


reasons  for  preferring  it,  i.  545. 
means  of  attaining,  iu.  473. 
advantages  of,  iii.  485. 


Fables,  comment  on  the  cock  and  diamond. 

iv.  51. 
Faiih,  on  the  growth  of,  i.  186.       ^ 
Faith  J  sermon  on  the  assurance  of,  ii  326. 
Faith  and  assurance,  thoughts  oat  iv-  497. 
rest  on  the  same  grounds,  ii.  229. 

—  always  efficacious,  1. 108.  ... 

—  acceptable  in  its  weakest  state,  uL  307. 
"  and  holiness   esaenUal  to  salvatioa,  ni. 

175. 
.>- defined  and  illustrated,  i.  95. 
^  differs  from  rational  assent,  i.  288»  ^^^t 

307. 

—  effect  of  regeneration,  i.  367. 

—  the  most  eminent,  effects  ascribed  u>,"« 

—  enables  the  believer  to  approach  witn  con 
lidenco  to  God,  iii.  230.  ...         g^ 

—  evidence  of  thinps  not  seen.  in.  Iw,  z». 

—  evidence  of.  iii.  139.  .  ^ 
follows  God  without  reasoning,  »■  *• 
how  produced,  iii.  241.     .     .. 
implies  reliance  upon  Christ,  ii.  6»- 

—  inward  witness of^ 349.  -  aii 

—  ju^iifving,  produces  holiness,  «•  *•*• 
-life  of,  iv. 262.  . 

a  mystecy  till  experienced,  >•  -wo. 

— —  hid  from  c.irnal  men,  ii.  90.    .  aa*  ■» 

—  may  exist  witliout  assurance,  i.  •**■ 
228 

—  means  appointed  for  the  growth  of,  i"- 
310.  .  ^- 

—  must  have  truth  for  its  object,  i.  •»?•     ^ 
no  new  ideas  of,  stated  ftince  the  cJosc 

the  scriptural  canou,  ii-  327. 

—  not  a  bare  assent,  ii.  269.        .        --tif 

—  not  necessarily  connected  wiin  »»- 
comfort,  iv.  497.  . 

—  un  a  living  and  dead,  i.205.  .      .  qj  ;;. 
^  inseparably  united  with  practice,  i.^» 

—  preserves    from    compliance   w'** 
world,  i  97.  .       .  ,  .wq  gift 

—  proceeds  not  from  reasoning,  M«       * 
of  God,  i.  359.  .  ,i  ::  536. 

—  progiess  of,  to  assurance,  gradual,   ■ 

—  regulates  believer's  con""^''ur^nnd  (Ji** 
renders  lowest  state  supp^^nftic, 
nissiou  from  highest  desirable,  i-  «^*- 


INDEX. 


Faith  traces  and  admirM  God's  baad^  i.  903. 

—  the  substance  of  things  hoped  fur,  lii,  91. 
•-  (he  victory  that overcometh  the  world,  iii. 

351. 

—  %vben  destitote  of,  we  cau  do  nothing  ac- 
ceptably, 1.  445. 

—  unholy  is  dead,  ii.  212. 

—  unites  the  toul  to  Christ,  i.  377. 
Faithfalneas  to  light  leceived,  a  means  of 

increasing  faith,  i.  196. 
Fall,  consequences  of,  i.  203. 
Fallen  man,  scripture  account  of  depravity, 

how  perverted,  iii.  118, 150. 

—  degraded,  yet  not  devoid  of  haroaoily,  iii 
179. 

--  may  bo  termed  iohuman,  iii.  179. 

-~  in  what  sense,  a  captive  to  sin,  iii.  234. 

—  conviction  of  his  lo»i  condition  necessary 
to  comfort,  iii.  37i. 

Family,  care  of,  an  honoarable  charge,  iv, 
264. 

—  connexions,  how  to  be  regarded,  i.  337. 

—  worship,  letter  on,  i.  85. 
— —  profjer  hours  to  be  chosen  for,  i.  87. 
Fashion,  tyranny  of,  iv.  491. 
•—  compliance  with  iumodcsl,  sinful,  and 

dangerous,  iv.  492. 
Fast  Semum,  iii.  523. 
Fasts,  public,  produce  but  little  effect,  iv 

345. 
Fear,  illustration  of  ^odly,  iv.  3G2. 
-»  godly,  a  branch  ol  the  secret  of  the  Lord, 

Feasting, on  religious,! v.  493. 
Felix  trembles  under  Paul's  discourse,  ii. 
363. 

—  Female  dress,  remarket  on,  iv.  438. 
Fenelorij  on  pulpit  eloquence,  recommended, 

iii.  492. 
FeMtU9  succeeds  Felix  in  bis  sovernmeDt,  ii. 

363. 
Figures,  explanation  of  some  prophetical^ 

iii.  47. 
Final  perseverance,  letter  on,  i.  126. 

—  how  perverted,  iii.  1 16. 
Flowers,  reflections  on,  iv.  377,  879. 
Forgiveness  of  each  other,  necessity  of,  i. 

484. 
Form  of  sound  words^  i.  408. 
Forms  of  prayer,  utility  and  divine  appoint' 

nentof,  iii.406. 
Fortitude  essential  to  the  best  wisdom,  iii. 

572. 
Frames,  on  a  believer's,  i.  149. 

—  variation  in,  necessary  and  profitable,  iv, 
270. 

Franksy  Dr.  an  eminent  christian,  iii.  454. 
Free  Thinkers,  pernicious  tendency  of  their 

conduct,  iii.  119. 
Friends,  separation  from,  can  be  naile  tole- 

rable  by  grace,  i.  565. 

—  encouragement  to  pray  and  to  hope  for 
unconverted,  i.  565. 

•*-  motives  for  consolation  'on  the  loss  of,  i 
558,571. 

Friendship,  a  little  snspicious  when  exerci- 
sed with  long  silence,  i.  360. 

Fuller's  jK>ap,  of  what  iUustrative,  iii  57. 


Futurity,  mercifully  concealed  from  man,  iii. 
157. 


Galatians^  their  Iors  left  u|X)n  record  as  a 

warning  to  us,  i.  317. 
-»  occasion  of  writing  the  Epistln  lo,ii.  229. 

—  Slate  in  which  found  by  Hi.  Paul,  iii.  246. 
Ocdileej  inhabitants  of,  des*)»8ed  l>y  those  of 

Jerusalem,  iii.  41,  85. 

GardineTy  colonel,  grace  of  God  illustrated 
in  conversion  ut',  i.  9. 

GenesiSf  book  of,  lew  qualified  to  enter  into 
the  spirit  of,  iii.  121. 

Genteel  neighbours,  cautious  conceraing  in- 
tercourse with,  iv.  372. 

GentiieSf  time  of  their  fulness  approaching, 
iii.  294. 

GibeottUiSf  consequence  of  their  submission 
to  Joshua,  iii.  351. 

Gideon,  victory  of,  iii.  60. 

Gifts  or  God  should  produce  in  us  content- 
ment, ii.53. — and  diligence,  ii.  54. 

Gifts  received  Ity  Messiah  for  the  rebellious, 
what,  iii.  2,t7,'240. 

—  and  grace  should  be  clearly  distinguished, 
iv.  302,  311. 

GHLie*s  Gospel  History  commended,  iii.  443. 
Glass,  exceedingly  |)ovoos,  i.  461. 
Glory,  degrees  iii,*con«(iden-d.  iv.  338. 

—  scripture  sense  of  the  word,  iii.  215. 
Gnosticsj  account  of  the,  ii.  429. 
God,  access  to,  none  bot  by  Christ,  ii,  198. 

—  administers  the  kingdom  of  grace,  won- 
derfullv,  i.  289. 

—  all-suniciency  of,  advantage  of  relying  on 
the  i.  276. 

— acquiescence  in  the  will  of  our  great  pri- 
vilege, i.  277. 

-—  appoiius  afflictions  for  bis  people*s  bene- 
fit, i.  320,  iv.  353, 435. 

—  benefit  of  acting  simply  for,  i.  284. 

—  our  business  in  life  is  to  glorify,  i.  283. 

—  caution  to  be  used  in  exalting  his  grace, 
iii.  150. 

—  chief  and  proper  good  of  the  soul,  iii.  90. 

—  Christ  worHhi|)ped  as,  by  primitive  chris- 
tians, i  v.  451, 480. 

—  communion  with,  joys  of,  iii.  134. 
«—— important  part  of 'blessednei>Sy  i.  318. 

—  contrite  spirit  pleasing  to,  i.  274. 

—  death  of  saints  of,  precious  in  his  sight, 
iii.  353. 

—  diffidence  of  his  protection  unbecoming  a 
believer,  i.  192. 

—  ends  of,  in  sending  Christ  into  tho  world, 
ii.llO.  *  *         .  ^ 

—  enmity  against,  rooted  in  onr  nature^  iii. 
236. 

—  inquiry  whether  he  is  the  author  of  sin,  i. 
374. 

—  every  where  present,  iv.  382. 

—  exhtbiuon  of  nis  perfections,  the  glory  of, 
iii,  102. 

—  experieo«Te  his  school,  i.  274. 
^^  gift  of  a  Saviour,  from  grace  and  love  of, 

111.557. 


696 


INDElU 


God,  glorified  hy  b€liev«r'a  obtdiencv  u 
much  as  by  that  ofG  ibriel,  i.  465. 

—  glory  and  grace  of.  revealed  in  Christ,  ii. 
132. 

— —  mMDifcstntion  of  the  end  of  Christ's 

appearaiice|ii.  111. 
— —  of|  revealed  in  Christ,  iii.  384. 
.— —  of,  best  displayed  by  keeping  lu  poor 

IB  ourselves,  i,  310. 
——of.  should  be  our  object,  i.  277. 

—  goouueas  and  severity  of,  ii.  46. 
— -  in  what  the  glory  of,  consists,  iii.  104. 

—  gracious  design  of,  in  afl'onling  revcla< 
tion,  iii.221. 

—  hand  of,  should  be  discerned  and  ac- 
knowledged in  all  things,  ii.  62. 

-^  how  to  walk  with,  in  daily  occurrences  of 
lifo,i.!:83,430 

—  imprcAMimof,  given  by  the  Holy  Spirit  to 
a  si.iner,  iii.  29. 

—  in  Christ  leconciltng  the  world  to  himself, 
iii.  105. 

—  in  what  respect,  Father,  S:c.  of  his  people, 
iii.  221. 

—  justice  of,  ii.  47. 

— -  will  ultitnateiy  be  manifcftted,  ii.  84. 
^-  kingdom  of,  nut  names  and  sentiments,  i 

603. 

—  knowledge  of,  the  ground  of  glory  uod 
joy,  i.  280. 

*- known  only  in  and  by  Christ,  iii. 216. 

—  love  of,  manifested  io  pui*dontng  sinner 
I.  273. 

«— -  to  sinners,  iii.  173. 

—  loving  kindness  of,  better  than  life,  i.  306. 

—  made  man  upright,  iii.  173. 

—  manifested  in  uie  itesh  on  earth,  i.  442, 

—  manifestations  of,  when  the  grand  end  of 
alt  completely  obtained,  iii.  396. 

—  name  of,  how  taken  in  vain,  ii.  185. 

—  by  profane  swearers,  ii.  187. 

—  by  llioughtless  worshippers,  ii.  187. 
-»—  by  all  who  rest  in  mere  profession  of 

Christianity,  ii.  188. 

—  no  woodoess  in  moat  specious  actions  un- 
less performed  with  reference  to  his  glory, 
i.  234 

-^  Dotliiiig  worthy  of  comparison  with  his 

livrvire,  ii.  127. 
tiiviui  that  is  done  for  him,  i.  478. 

—  only  competent  judge  of  what  is  worthy 
himself,  ill.  268. 

"^  overrules  councils  of  princes,  i.  338. 
. all  the  designs  of  men,  iii.  169. 

—  patience  of,  wonderful,  i.  209,  iv.  283. 

—  perfections  of,  i>eea  in  cross  of  Christ,  ii, 
1J4. 

seen  in  Christ  as  mediator,  ii.  136. 

—  l>ower  manifested  in  means  be  uses,  ii. 
299. 

->  protection  of  con^iiderations  resulting  from 
conHdence  in,  iii.  348- 

—  providence  of,  extends  to  minutest  con> 
cerns,  i.  269,  iv.  39o. 

—  providential  care  qf  the  onlverM,  i.  287. 

—  purposes  of  mercy  cannot  be  disappointed, 
i.  273. 

-o  purposes  of,  carried  on  by  means  and  in- 
strumoni.><,  iii.  561. 

—  scaios  the  pride  of  human  glory,  ii.  112. 


God,  redempcioa  tlio  griatest  of  hie  workij 
iii.  61. 

—  regulates  degree  and  daration  of  convin- 
ced sinner's  distress,  iii.  29. 

—  rfstrains  the  (wwerK  of  darkness,  i.  288. 

—  righteoosneas  of,  manifested  in  ooly  pos- 
Hihlc  way  by  ibe  death  of  Christ,  iu.  30, 
146. 

—  searches  the  heart,  ii.  21,  not  as  indifiie^ 
eni  spectator,  22. 

■  sepal  ation  from  his  favour,  the  essence  of 
misery,  iii.  190. 

—  scriptures  given  by  inspiration  of,  iii.  175. 
•<-  sovereignty  of,  i.  ^1. 

—  strengthens  the  mind,  ii.  84. 

—  belief  in,  consittent  with  use  of  ineswj 
ii..169. 

—  sovereign  love  of  the  soorce  of  mercy,  ut. 
89. 

—  testimony  of,  to  Christ's  innocence,  m 
201. 

—  a  san  and  a  shield,  iii.  425. 

—  ihreatenings  of,  afford  gronnd  and  room 
for  repentance,  iii.  600. 

—  the  Father  of  believers,  iii.  49. 

—  we  do  not  serve  at  all  unless  detiie  Ut 
serxe  him  whoilv,  i.284. 

—  what  distinguisiies  his  works  from  those 
of  men,  iii.  60. 

-^  will  of,  oursanctification,  iii.  350. 

—  our  profier  element,  iii"  l^^- 

—  wisdom,  the  glorv  of  his,  iii.  IW.        ^j. 

his  opp<Ksiie  to' that  of  the  world,  n.  »• 

seen  in  disposing  the  circumrtancei  oi 

his  peofjlc  biifore  conversion,  ii.  387. 

—  worahi|>|)ersof,  appioach  not  as  scrvasB, 
but  as  children,  iii.  29.  ,.. 

—  works  ol,  the  minutest  bear  marks  d  i»» 
wisdom,  iii.  104.  ...  f^ 

—  manifest  iu  flesh,  title  of  Messiah,  ui.  a*. 
GG,  382.  ..  Q. 

—  Godliness,  inefficacv  of  a  form  of,  «.*>. 

—  the  great  mystery  of,  i.  301,  Hi-  »• 
Goel,  primarv  fli;(uf6cation  of,  *"•  ^*     ^ 
Golden  age,  whence  poets  derived  wees  «•* 

iii.  121. 
Goodness  of  God,  ii.  46. 
Good  vkorks,  distinction  lietween 

and  real,  ii.  34. 
Gatdeny  Lord  G^eorge,  iv.  335. 
Gospel,  an  act  of  grace,  iii-  ii48, 301. 

—  affords  hope  to  vilest,  ii.  H^      ,  ^„  ,i,- 
mpre    substantial    pleasure  tliaii  w 

amusements  of  life,  i.  527. 
•>—  preseot  rest,  ii.  154. 

—  future  rest,  ii.  155.  .       -«n#ri* 

—  assent  to  troth  of,  distinct  from  cxp 
ence,  iii.  270.  '  4£]  ii- 

—  awful  punishment  of  neglecung,  ^  *  ' 
75. 

—  becomes  effectual  by  faith*  »»•  ^"  om 

—  breathes  the  spirit  of  its  author,  m-  -^ 

—  briefly  described,  ii.  269.         ,     ^^. 

—  can  only  be  undirslood  by  diyi-e  K*" 
tion,  ii.  261.       .  ih  iii  3^ 

—  cause  of  contempt  it  meet*  ^""*^t  tsd 

—  character  and  genius  of,  w  i»"B 
exemplified  by  Christ,  ii.  '^^^  .  .  0^  ^j^. 

—  character  of  those  from  whom  U  «  »  " 


INDEX. 


697 


Gospel,  GoinpOMd  to  cities  of  refuce,  ii.  146. 

—  contempt  of,  a  national  sin,  iii.  6». 
^  defined,  i.  £22. 
— '  designed  to  free  Cbrisi's  people  from  yoke 

of  men,  111.2^7. 
■       to  give  us  a  eertaioty  of  acceptance  and 

persevonuicey  i.  326. 
— —  to  regulate  but  not  suppress  our  senii' 

bility,  iv.  434. 

—  destroys  every  species  of  self-exaltation, 
iii.  342.  .1^^ 

•'-^diflferenl  effecuii1|Pme  who  reject  and 
receive,  iii.  57. 

—  directions  for  preaching  aright,  iv.  456. 

—  a  dispensation  for  sinners,  i.  278. 

—  displays  glory  of  free  f  race,  ii.  266. 

—  divine  original  of,  ii.  260,  iii.  204. 

—  divine  perfections  secured  by,  iii.  105. 

—  effects  produced  by,  wlien  first  sent  to 
anv  place,  i.  223. 

—  eitects  of,  the  same  now  as  formerly,  ii, 
293. 

—  future  eflfeclB  of,  more  blessed,  iii.  111. 
•— endearing  vie\^  iu  wiiicb  God  js  made 

known  bv,i.  421. 

—  essemisu  doctrines  oQ  laid  down,  iii.  564. 

—  a  free  gift,  ii.  60. 
...  happy  efficacv  of,  when  applied  by  the 

Holy  Spirit,  i.'449. 

—  import  of  the  word,  iii.  Gd,  242. 

—  importance  of  right  views  of,  ii.  295. 

—  inconsistent  live);  of  professors  of,  a  stum< 
bling  block,  iii.  156,  170. 

—  inspires  a  conciliatory  spirit,  iii.  360. 
——the  only  true  magnanimity,  iii.  203. 
•-in  what  sense  entered,  tliat  bin   might 

abound,  iii.  268. 

—  knowledge  and  comfort  of,  attnined  by 
few  but  the  poor  and  simple,  i.421. 

—  knowledge  of,  affords  consolation  in  dark- 
est times,  iii.  448. 

—  liable  to  be  turned  into  a  covenant  of 
works,  iv.  343. 

...  marks  whereby  to  distinguish  a  true  and 
false  preacher  of,  iii.  552. 

—  marvellous  efficacy  of,  iii.  81,  ii.  67. 

—  nay  be  slighted,  but  not  annulled,  iii.  267. 
...  a  mere  declaration  of  the  truths  of,  is  not 

preaching  it,  iv.  465. 
r—  message  of,  glad  tidings,  iii.  248. 

—  ministers  of,  authorised  to  comfort  peni- 
tent sinners,  iii.  31. 

-<»  ministers  of,   called   and  prepared   by 

Christ,  iii.  244. 
•^«-  ministry,  small  miccessof,  ii.  81. 

—  the  subject  and  lempet  of  the,  iii.  516. 
•--  mysteries  of,  hid  from  manv,  ii.  88,  95. 

—  narrow  spread  of,  inscrutable,  iii.  266. 
-••  none  disstppoiuted  who  make  experiment 

of,  iii.  249. 
•X  oMections  to  preaching  of,  considered,  ii . 

—  offends  the  pride  of  man,  iii.  82, 263. 

—  onlv  expedient  to  produce  new  creation, 
iii.  t87. 

— opposed  by  hypocritical  profession,  ii.  345. 

*-*— ODsamo  groonds  now  as  formerly,  ii. 

280.  I 


Gospel,  partakers  of|  the  only  rich  and  happy, 

iit.41. 

-  peculiar  truths  of,  why  styled  mysterious, 

iii.  3?7. 
-^plan  of  salvation  by,  »ure,  ii.  116. 

—  progress  of,  after  ascension,  iii.  209,  240, 
266. 

—  purifying  |>ower  of,  iii.  58, 82. 

—  reception  it  meets  with  from  the  world 
illustrated^  i.  295. 

revealed  in  the  person  of  Christ,  ii.  262. 
salvation  of,  appointed  for  those  thai  arc 
ready  to  perish,  i.  354,  377. 

—  savour  of  death  to  some,  iii.  263. 
~  similar  views  of,  cnteitaiacd  by  all  be- 
lievers, iv.  325. 

—  small  success  of,  grievous  to  true  Chris- 
tians, ii.  82. 

•  spread  of,  not  at  first  necessarily  instanta- 
neous and  universal,  iii.  255. 

—  a .  indard  by  which  all  are  to  be  tried,  iii. 
455. 

—  success  of,  owing  to  influence  of  Holy 
Spirit,  ii.  385. 

—  supersedes  ceremonial  law,  iii.  28. 

—  only  system  that  can  ins|)ire  with  peace 
and  love,  iii.  241. 

-~  troths  of,  iu  what  respects  perverted,  iii. 
118. 
the  believer's  good,  ii.  17G. 

—  the  only  wav  of  access  to  Uod,  ii.  198. 

—  understood  by  whom  alone,  iii.  136. 

—  what  it  teaches  in  briuging  salvation,  iii. 
286. 

—  what  the  preaching  of,  implies,  iv.  4M, 

—  when  truly  preached,  distinguibcd  by  cu- 
erry  and  power,  iii.  243. 

—  wiiy  not  received  by  rich  and  great,  iii.  87. 

—  will  universally  triumph,  iii.  259,  293, 296. 

—  wisdomandpower  of  God,  iii.  241.     ^ 

—  works  by  such  means  as  show  the  power 
ofGod,i.473. 

—  preachers,  see  Christian  Ministers. 

—  state,  a  dispensation  of  light,  iii.  78. 

—  worship,  in  what  its  gloiy  consists,  iii.  48. 
Gospellers^  see  Puritans. 
Grace  ancl  truth  came  b^  Christ,  iii.  54,  78. 

—  causes  of  decline  in,  i.  259. 

—  comfort  iu  being  under,  instead  of  the 
law,  i.  278. 

^  communion  with  God  in  means  of  impor- 
tant part  of  blessedness,  i.  318. 

—  constitutes  difference  between  ono  Chris- 
tian and  another,  i.  600. 
—  between  believers  and  sinners,  iii.  148. 

•  di»tinguibhiiig,  incomprehensible  to  men, 
ii.  89. 

—  and  gifts  should  be  distinguished,  iv.  303, 
311. 

—  four  chief  effects  of  its  work  on  the  heart, 
iii.  116. 

••  growth  of,  in  what  conbists  i*  262. 

—  illuBtrated  in  convernion  of  hanJened  Mn- 
ners,  Saul,  colonel  Gardiner,  the  author, 
i.  9,  10. 

—  in  the  blade,  i.  113,  in  the  ear,  117,  in 
full  corn,  121. 


598 


IMDBK* 


Grace  io  the  Ii€art  will  reguUlc  tlie  toagoe, 
iv.444. 

—  iiiviocible  rather  than  irresiBtible,  i.  971. 

—  irroMsliblc,  iie<*essiiy  of,  iii.  24 L. 

—  Jesuii  the  fountain  of^  i.  261. 

—  life  of|  connected  with  life  of  glory,  itt. 
323. 

derived  from  Christ's  fulnetn,  tii.  148. 

>—  progreaa  of,  compared  to  tJie  growth  of 
corn,  iii.  450. 

—  riches  of,  unsearchable,  iii.  7d,  lS9,  235, 
366,385. 

—  should  be  exalted  with  caution,  i  570. 

—  the  exercise  of,  depends  on  Christ's  pres- 
ence, iv.  348. 

—  the  great  desirable  here,  i.  306. 

«..  10  be  estimated  not  from  appearances,  but 
from  difficulties  it  has  to  overcome,  i.  468. 

—  with  faith,  makes  lowest  state  supporta* 
ble,i,  302. 

—  work  of,  compared  to  a  building,  and  to 
corn,  i.  394. 

to  an  oak,  i.  94. 

—  to  the  lighting  a  6re,  i.  443. 
Gravity,  desirableness  of,  iv.  85. 
Gray,  Mr.  remarks  oa  his  elegy,  iv.  405. 
Grtai  Britain^  reflections  on'  the  unhappy 

disputes  between  and  America,  i,  307,  iv. 
378. 
>••  not  instrumental  io  propagating  tlie  gos- 
pel, iii.  258. 

—  present  stale  of,  more  unlikely  once  than 
the  predicted  future  stale  of  the  gospel, 
iii.  e94. 

•••  privileges  enjoyed  bv^  iii.  527. 
— -  aggravated  guilt  of,  lii.  529. 
Greek  church,  see  Church. 

—  language,  knowledge  of,  spread  by  Alex* 
ander,  iii.39. 

Greeks  and  Romans^  character  of,  ii.  253 
Greonland  mission,  history  of,  commended, 

i.4M 
Grtemckh  Parity  meditations  in,iv.  333. 
Grief,  fatal  consequences  of  indulged  and 

cxces^ire,  i.4S4. 
^-  for  indwelling  sin,  wrong  when  it  leads  Io 

impatience  or  distrust,  i.  552. 
Grofntf,  dying  confession  of,  i.  294, 258,  iii. 

V3ii. 
Guidance, divine,  in  what  manner  to  be  ex* 

pccted,  i.  192. 
Guilt  and  danger  of  such  a  nation  as  this,  iii. 

523. 

—  nnd  ignorance,  connexion  between, ii. 71 

—  in  what  it  conMMts,  iii.  370. 

—  uoarly  equal  in  all,  iv.  341. 

^-  removed  and  |)eace  restored,  semoo  on, 
ii.  211. 

—  the  parent  of  atheism,  iii.  66. 

U. 

J{abakkitk*s  wy  under  affliction,  iv.  248. 

Hairjr.    Sec  Sarah. 
Iiafi:gaiy  aiisBion  of,  to  the  Jews,  iii.  44. 
Halijburton,  Mr.  Essay  of,  concerning  faith, 

commended,  i.351. 

—  in(^uiry  into  the  nature  of  regeneration  and 
jastification,i.513. 


Jfomoii,  design  of,  providentially  deftatcd, 

iii.  301. 
Handely  reflections  on  the  commemorstios 

of,  iii.  25,  34, 36,  43,  44, 50,  75,  92,  96, 

109,  191,  282,  318,  397. 
Happiness,  how  much  it  depends  on  the  im* 

agination,  i.  315. 
>-  erroneous  ideas  of,  entertained  by  workl* 

lings,  iv.  35. 

—  in  what  it  consists,  iv.  438. 
Harbingers,    aocju^j^t  before  Esatcn 

monarchs,  iii.  30P^iF 
Harmony,  none  like  tSat  which  resaltB  fran 
combination  of  divine  attribates  ia  rsdeap- 
tion,  iii.  26. 

—  of  Heaven,  beyond  our  coacepiion,  ii>- 
99.  .     . 

Hawte'sj  preface  of,  to  aothor's  aarrative,  i. 

6. 
Healing,  given  by  Christ,  ii.  128. 
Hearers,  unsettled,  seklom  thrive,  i.  128. 

—  shouhl  guard  against  prejudice,  i.  445. 
Heart,  IkmIc  of  ili^  recommended,  i.  141 

—  change  of,  by   what  represented,  iii.  230. 
g^^^X  the  only  •xpc^dieat  to  prodoce, 

—  deceitfulness  of,  ii.  15, 17. 

—  change  of,  discovered  more  and  wm 
continuallv,  iv.  320. 

—  comparei)  to  Esekiel's  vision,  i.  395. 

—  God  searches  not  as  indifferent  spectalof, 
ii.22. 

—  an  eminent  part  of  God*s  govemmeatw 
restrain,  i.  289.  ... 

■  pre|Niratioo  of,  from  the  Lord,  iii. ». 
— >  \ile  in  God|s  sight,  ii.  22.  . 

—  cannot  be  too  jealous  of  onr  own,  if.  ^ 
HeolAeii,  acknowledged  necessity  of  rerdR- 

tion,  iii.  80. 

—  conversion  of,  foretold,  iii.  80.        ^^ 

—  moralists  of,  ignorant  of  character  ©fw>o, 
iii.  151. 

—  their  need  of  a  deliverer^  iii.  46.  , 

—  their  persecution  of  Christians  accwBH* 
for, ii.  378.  .     ,   ^ 

—  ihoucbts  on  poasibility  of  their  ialtiti«> 
iii.  380. 

Heaven,  the  believer's  home,  i";.^;^ 

—  happiness  of.  inconceivable,  ii.  **;,,  ■ 

—  what  it  consisti  in,  ii.  156,  iii.  91, 3">  "* 
438. 

—  by  what  emblems  shadowed  f^^^^^JjL 
.-  cannot  afford  happiness  io  sinner  «n»^ 

change  of  heart,  iii.  232.        ... 

—  music  of  beyond  conception,  w.w* 

—  where  situated,  iv.  239, 437.        ^-  jr. 

—  how  to  attain  the  moet  of,  by  the  wsy, 
271.  ^  ..  -., 

Heavy  laden  sinners  described,  u.  l*»- 
Hebrew  Poetry.    See  Poetry.        .    .-g. 

—  words  have  often  more  than  one  sigw 
tion,  iii.  84.  i,mtr* 

Hebrewsy  epistle  fo,  a  key  to  many  v^ 

of  Scripture,  iii.  192.  ...  ^^ 

HeU,  different  signification*  of.  Ml.  W. 

—  puuishmeni  of,  eternal.  »"•  ^*  ^' 

—  what  it  couaists  in,  iii.  322,  3W»^[Jr 


Hmry^  the  great  of  France^l 
bis  character  and  deatbi  i.  281. 


!flecti«fl»« 


INDEX. 


St>d 


Horace,  invitntioa  of,  to  Maecenas,  i.  285. 

—  b«aiiiiriil  address  of,  to  Augustus,  impious 
and  idolatrous,  but  hns  an  expre6si^'e  pro* 
priety  in  ihc  mouth  of  a  believer,  address- 
ing himself  to  God,  i.  286. 

House,  description  of  a  belieTer's,  iv.  296. 
Human  events,  under  the  di4«ctiou  of  infinite 

wisdom,  i.i69. 

■  heart  depraviiy  of,  i.  2C7.    See  Heart. 

—  infirmity,  manifested  on  slight  occasions, 
ti.33!. 

—  naiurc,  corruption  of,  i.  203,  350,  389, 
411,iii.440. 

— —  depravity  of,  a  fundamental  doctrine, 

iii.  312. 
Human  systems,  altaclimcnt  to,  the  chief 

cause  of  di^tputes  amoii;;  Cliristinns,iii.  140. 
Humanity  in  fallen  roan,  reflections  on,  iii. 

179. 
Hwnamif,  character  of,  i.  227. 
Humiliation,  a  spirit  of,  the  strength  of  our 

profession,  i.  274.  • 

—  what  promotes  it,  and  what  are  its  efiects, 
i.  274. 

—  causes  of,  will  never  be  wanting,  i.  27fi. 

—  an  evidence  of  christian  temper,  i.  327. 
<••  the  guard  of  all  other  graces,  i  431. 

—  happy  effects  of,  i.  470. 
— >  and  love,  the  highest  attainments,  i.  479. 

—  cannot  be  valued  too  highly,  i.  642. 

—  necessary  to  understand  the  scriptures,  ii. 
69. 

•—  an  ettribote  of  mn^minimity,  tii.  t41. 
/ft/^/iar«  advice  to  Al)salom.  iii.  301. 
Hvnin  of  thanksgiving  for  king's  recovery, 

Vi.695. 
Hypocrisy,  fear  of,  asignofsincerit}',  iv.  142. 

I.  and  J. 

•/(tro6,  opulence  of,  iii.  120. 

Jailor,  at  Phillippi,  converted  by  St.  Paul,  i. 

363,  ii.  334. 
St.  James,  and  St.  Pmd,  apparent  diifcrenco 

between,  reconciled,  ii.206, 208. 


Hetry,  hit  reflection  on  his  birth«  i.  302. 
Here^,  the  p!t>per  meaning  of,  ii,  361. 
Heresies,  propagated  in  apostle's  days,  ii. 

421. 
Herod  convinced  of  Christ's  innocence,  iii. 

200. 
Herod  Agrippa,  eventful  life  of,  ii.  319. 

—  kills  James,  ii.  319. 

—  imprisons  Peter,  is  disapfiointed  of  his 
prejr,  and  slays  the  goalers,  ii.  320. 

— •  smitten  by  an  angel,  and  dies  miserablv, 

i.  503,  ii.  321,  iii.  271,  391. 
Eerodians  described,  ii.  274. 
Heroes,  in  what  light  they  may  be  viewed, i. 

338. 
Heroism,  ref^nted,  often  the  eficct  of  a  weak 

and  little  mind,  iii.  159. 
Hetekiah,  an  instance  of  grace  in  the  ear,  i. 

119. 
High  Priest,  Christ  our  great,  iii.  216. 
— -^  acquainted  with  nil  our  sorrows,  iii.  446. 
History,  advnntages  of  reviewing  our  own,  i. 

8. 

—  ecclesiastical,  a  melancholy  detail,  i.  481. 
•••  of  Israel  proves  hiiiuan  depravity,  ii.  256. 

—  of  mankind  illustrates  scripture  Joe tri ties, 
ii.263. 

Holiness  in  sinners,  different  from  that  of 
angels,  i.  4G4. 

—  and  happiness  the  great  end  of  the  gospel, 
ii.  270. 

-  love  and  devotedness   to  God  constitute 

the  essence  of,  iii.  466. 
•^'  and  peace  the  peculiar  characteristics  of 

the  disciples  of  Jesus,  i.  481.    See  Faith. 
Holy  Spirit,  deity  of,  an  essential  doc' 

trine,  i.  343. 

—  accompanies  the  word  with  energy,  iii. 
368. 

—  convinces  of  sin,  ii.  136. 

—  dependence  on  his  leachioe  renders  duty 
ea.««y,i.  283. 

—- descent  of,  on  the  day  of  Pentecost,  iii. 
24,ii.300. 

—  first  work  of,  on  man's  heart,  iii.  237. 
•—indwelling  of,   an  essential  doctrine  of|Juffi««, fhcson  of  Zebedee,  slain  by  Herod, 

gospel,  iii. 666.  ;:    «•« 

— •  influences  the  hearts  of  all  God's  children. 


i.  298, 309. 

«—  office  of,  the  effect  of  Christ's  niedialion, 
iii.  89.«|fi. 

—  offices  of,  ii.  136. 

—  produces   consolation,  faith,  and    a-ssn- 
rancp,  ii.  137. 

'—  reveals  no  new  truths,  but  explains  his 
own  word,  i.  363.  • 

—  sin  against  him,  what,  iii.  182. 
-'•the  only  sure  and  certain  guide  into  all 

troth,  i.  408. 

—  leaching  of,  promised  to  believers,  iii.  437. 

—  vital  ami  experimental  knowledge  deri- 
ved from  him  alone,  i.6l4. 

Home,  the  believer's  in  Heaven,  iv.  298. 
Hope,  believer's  rests  not  on  frames,  but  on 

word  of  God,  i.  lOG. 
--  glory  of  that  set  before  sinners^  ii.  123. 

—  the  Christian's  the  same,  notwithstanding 
ohanges  in  ex|iericttce,  iv.  266. 


i\9.  • 

Joson  accused  before  Thcssalontan  mngis-  ^ 

trates  for  harbouring  the  apostles,  ii.  337. 
Idolatry,  folly  and  universality  of,  li.  18. 
...  early  prevalence  of,  iii  66. 
...  effects  of.  on  heathen  morality,  i.  17. 
...  a  bosom  sin,  iv.  267. 
...  professing  christians  guilty  of,  ii.  10. 
...  proneness  to,  and  cautions  against,  iv.  S67, 

314,317. 
...  on  what  suppo«>ition  warranted  by  New 

Testament,  iiS.  94, 219. 
Idol  shepherds,  worldly  ministers  so  called, 

iii.  128. 
Jehovah  and  Adonai^  distinction  between,  iii. 

63. 
Jenk'a  Devotions  recommended,!. 89. 
Jenyru,  Soame,  extract  from, iii.  206. 
Jeremiah,  prophetic  declarations  on  sacceas 

of  Chaldenh.<i  applicable  to  Christ,  iii.  193. 
Jericho,  walls  of,  thrown  do>vn  by  tmmpets 

of  Joshua,  ii.  473. 


600 


INDEX. 


Jenualenif  tIecouDt  of  the  cbnrcli  of,  ii.  410 
...an  emblem  of  the  church,  iii.  108. 
...dreadful  destraciion of,  by  Titus,  ii.  376, 

iii.  267. 
Jesus  Christ  able  le  sarc  to  (be  uttemotl, 

iv.  324. 
...  a  complete  atonement  for  sin,  iii.  38«  31, 

177, 
...  affoixifl  a  halm  for  cverv  vroood,  iii.  33. 
...  aijency  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  effect  of  the 

mediation  of,  iii.  89,  115. 
...  ajfony  of,  in  the  garden,  shows  hia  suffer- 

ingft,  a  proper  atonomontforsin,  iii.  1G9. 
...  agonies  and  death  of,  necessary  to  display 

the  evilof  Bin,  ill.  149, 161. 

—  all  in  all   in  the  sinncr^s  salvation,  iii. 
440. 

...alUmfficient  source  of  consolation,  iii.  33, 
132. 

...  nUvavs  near  to,  and  present  with,  his  peo- 
ple, i  v.  305, 382. 

...  ap^M^nraiice  of,  contrary  to  human  expcc- 
tniion,ii.276. 

...  ascenMon  of,  iii.  212, 228,  233. 
..  atonement  of,  delivers  the  believer  from 
f;uilt,iti.  196. 

— -  efficacy  of,  inconceivable  without  a  be- 
lief of  his  omnipotence,  i.  444. 

~.—  could  ontv  reallv  be  made  by  him,  iii. 
144. 

...anthoriiy  of,  ri.  125. 

...  believer  complete  in,  iv.  256. 

...  benefits  and  efficacy  of  his  redemption,  i. 
272. 

...  benefits  of  the  death  of,  ever  present  to  the 
eye  of  faith,  iii.  170. 

...  blessings  he  bestows,  ii.  127. 

...  blood  of,  constrains  to  obedience,  iii.  146 
177, 196. 

~— •  no  melody  comparable  to  the  voice  of 
his,  iii.  26. 

.  had  a  rctros|>ectlve  efficacy,  iii.  30,  89, 

176. 

—  blood  of,  of  perpetual  efficacy,  iii.  374. 
-»  bodily  suflerinfirs  of,  lij^ht  in  comparison  to 

the  agonies  of  his  soul,  iii.  168. 
-*-  born  of  a  virgin,  why,  iii.  62. 
."  brings  life  and  immorialily  to  light,  Hi.  89. 

—  chnracter  of,  a  proof  of  divine  origin  of 
the  gospel,  ii.  276,  iii.  204. 

-■-  character  of,  ii.  73. 

our  sidvocatc,  iv.  270. 

bridegrootti  and  husband,  iii.  176, 213. 

— —  brighiness  of  his  Father's  glorv,  iii 
216. 

—  co«n«»ellor,  iii.  94. 

everlasting  Father,  iii.  94. 

God,  ii.  28,  iii.  53, 177. 

'        Iminaniiel,  iii.  61. 
— —  Kini;,  iii.  109. 
King  of  glory,  iii.  2irn 

—  King  of  Rings,  iii.  297. 
Lurd,  ii.l2.'>,ili.l02. 

Lord  God  otnninutent,  iii.  23S. 

Lord  of  Hosts,  iii.  213. 

— ~—  Lamb  of  God,  iii.  144. 

— —  light  of  the  Gentiles,  iii.  46. 

Man,  ii.  99. 

*-—  cliararter  of  man  of  sorrows,  iii.  440. 


Jesvs  Christ,  Mediator,  ii.  30. 
•*^—  messenger  of  ibe  coTeotent,  iii:  54. 
— ^-  Messhih,  ii.  68. 

mighty  God,  iii.  94- 

onTy  wise  God,  iii.  394. 

flrav«roxpa7op,  ""»•  5^- 

Prince  of  Peace,  iii.  951 

'—  a  Saviour,  iii.  102,  110. 

—  Shepheid,  ii.   121,  iii.  121,  17^,  Hy, 
217,  iv.  261. 

'—  Son  of  God,  iii.  154. 

SttO  of  Righteousness,  iii.  130. 

—  the  way,  the  tnitii,  and  the  life,  iii.  174, 
177. 

—  wonderful,  iii.  93. 
Word  of  God,  iii.  298. 

— -  captain  of  out  salvation,  iii.  3C7. 

—  chastisement  of  our  peace,  how  laid  spoa 
him,  iii.  169.  .  , 

—  chief  glory  of,  that  he  reigns  in  hearts  of 
his  peoplfe,  iii.  287. 

—  claimed  peculiar  characters  aadailribotes 
ofdcity,ii.262. 

—  compared  to  the  sun,  iv.  382, 425. 
-*— •  a  shepherd,  iii.  121. 

—  a  shield,  iv.  425.   ^ 

—  compassion  of,  for  bis  people,  i.  450 

—  condescension  of,  in  noticing  sinfal  men, 
ii.  123,  iii.  220.  ...  ^ 

—  conference  of,  with  Nicodemus,  ui.  *^ 

—  consolation  of  bis  people  of  old,  iii.SIU. 
the  only  ground  of,  iii-  ^-       ,  „ 

--  cons(»laiionsof,  bidden  from  worldly  men, 

i.  561.  ^  .         r  :, 

'"  contemplation  on  the  saffenngs  oi,  if- 

-  confrouls  the  powers  of  darkne^,  ii|. -^• 

—  conversed  with  the  patriarchs,  iii.  w&- 

—  cross  of,  crocifics  beUcvers  to  tli«  worw, 
•ii.  197.  . 

—  constraining  influence  of,  >^:.r  ,^. 

—  displays  divine  perfections,  iii-IWV 

endearing  jioimsot  view^  »•  45?>  *^ 

subdues  our  enniiiy  to  God,  m.  7Z. 

—  crucified,  all  the  treasure  o(  wisdom  uio- 
den  in,  iii.  89.  .^«m'< 

—  dashes  his  enemies  to  pieces  as  a  powi 
vessel,  iii.  279.  ,  ^.-„h« 

—  death  of.  for  sinners,  Uic  greatest  wonder 
ever  cxhioited,  iii.  193.  -  -^  ,^i  :- 

exiiibited  the  rigbteousnesfof  ww 

only  poissible  wav,  iii.  30.  ,  ..• 

-.  deity  of,  essential  doctrine  of  gospel, 

Jiiliefif  his,  necessary  to  salvation,.-. 

necessary  to  render  the  scripture*'"''^** 

ligible,  iii.  53. 

hid  from  carnal  me«,ii-  89.  . 

:..  deity,  proofs  of,  i.  299,  441,  "•  »»>• 

——conviction  of  sin  only,  ^^"^ 
reasoning  objections  •<?*' ".■*'!]. 

—  depth  of  his  humiliation,  i-  444. 

—  derided  upon  the  cmss,  i";.  »^- 

■-  design  of  his  appearance,  "•  •>?;  ..j 

—  despised  and  rejected  o»  "J®**' "ff.rirtr. 
...  dignity  and  disiess  o(,  when  saffeni*. 


INDEX. 


661 


W  littk  koowu,  i.  808,  ii.  287« 
•^>  liUlinctioii  beiweea    Jemr    and  Qeatile 

•bolUbed  io,  Ui.  111. 
•:>— divin«  ■acure  of,  afforded   no  Masible 
comfort  onder  kja  Moay,  iii.  183. 

—  dociriae  of,  excitedopposition^  ii.  275. 
"•'*  dwells  in  hearts  ol'his  (leople,  lii.  48. 
•*—  lit  the  humble  apirit,  lit.  217. 

—  eflfeciB  of  the  appoarauca  of,  iii.  77, 115, 
144 

~—  of  bis  humiliation,  iii.  40, 55, 153. 

—  en;ililes  bis  disciples  tp  be  holv,  i'i.  139. 
—-  entiiled  to  the  moei  solemn  adoration,  iii. 

226,337. 
-~  entrance  of,  into  Jerusalem,  iii.  106. 

—  equal  with  God,  liL  1%. 
•^-  establishes  a  new  and  spiritual  kingdom, 

lit.  74. 

—  exaluiion  of,  iii.  66,  tl6, 228,  269. 
— '  example  of  bis  sufferings  recomniuuded  to 

the  believer 's  imitation,  iii.  163. 
•«-  excites  to  diffuse  benevolence,  i.  328. 
•»  excellency  of\  in  believer's  view,  iv.  422. 

—  every  kind  of  excellence  his  iodubiuble 
right,  iii.  384. 

-*  exemplified  his  own  precepts,  iii.  261. 

—  extent  of  his  spiritual  kingdom,  iii  288. 

—  filled  the  second  temple  with  glory,  iii. 
48. 

—  first  appearance  of,  on  earth,  iii.  40. 

—  flock  of,  iu  what  sense  he  feedii,  guards, 
heals,  and  restores  them,  iii.  123. 

<—  followers  of,  why  his  immediate  chosen 

from  the  luwei4  stations,  iii.  81. 
— >  foreranaer  of  his  people,  iii.  216.^^ 

—  fulfilled  and  abitigated  the  law,  iii.  47. 
<^  gift  of,  manifestri  goodneas,  justice,  and 

severity  of  God,  ii.  46. 
— —  cvilofsiu,  ii.48. 
— —  wortli  of  soul,  ii.  48. 

—  certainty  of  go«{iel  plan  of  salvation 
ii.  50. 

— —  will  not  profit  all,  ii.  50. 

•^  glory  of,  seen  more  iu  redeeming  a  sinner 

than  in  preserviuic  1000  angels,  i.  401. 
>—  glor3r  and  love  of,  mu<tt  be  seen  to  purtici> 

imte  iu  his  image,  i.  568. 
•'Crod  manifest  iu  the  flesh,  iii.  53,  177, 

199. 

—  grNtpcl  of,  a  dispensation  for  sinners,  i, 

—  grace  and  triith  came  by,  iii. 54, 77. 
•—  grace  uf,  irresistibly  efficacious,  iii.  235. 
•—  grieyed  with  wickeiduesa  and  obduracy  of 

fcinuers,  iii.  158. 

—  the  gi  ound  of  agreement  between  God 
and  man,  iii.  340. 

—  the  great  temple,  iii.  395. 

—  glory  o|\  veileid  whea  on  earth,  ii.  262. 

—  head  or  the  church,  the  liviiig  and  life' 
giving,  iii.  285. 

•>-  heart  of  nnsearehable,  i.  395. 

•^  hi|h  priest  and  intercesaoc,  iii.  216. 

— •  hoUttOas  and  peace,  charactoriaok  dtfci< 

pies  of,  1.481. 
— the  holy  one  of  Israel,  iii.  176. 
.«.  honour  which  believers  derive  fron  his 

cxaltaiioa,  iii.  228, 22(3. 


Vot.  IV. 


Jkius  Cbkut.  humaft  aaCnfB  of,  the  tern* 

pleofGod,  iii.  317. 
— —  indiMolubly  united  with  the  divine,  iii. 

66. 

—  humiliation  of,  iii.  41, 54. 107, 153. 

—  idea  of,  should  be  formea  from  loriptore, 
iv.388. 

—  incarnation  of^  iii.  92, 224. 
— -  incarnation  of,  why  deferred,  ii.  253. 

—  Immanuel,  God  with  ut,  iii.  63. 

—  indwelling  of  in  his  people,  iii.  239. 
•^  innocence  of,  vindicated,  iii.  298. 
— —  united  testimonies  of,  iii.  201. 
«-  invites  tlie  weaiy  and  heavy  laden,  iii. 

130, 

—  judge  of  world,  ii.  1S2. 

—  justly  called  desire  of  all  nations,  ill.  46. 

—  10  what  sense  hia  coming  not  restrained  to 
a  particular  time,  iii.  57. 

—  kingdom  of,  misunderstood  by  Jews,  ii. 
277. 

—  of.  not  of  this  world,  iii.  109, 26S. 
^—  fulfiloieni  of  prophecies,  concerning  tlM 

progressive,  iii.  266. 

—  knew  iJie  heart  of  man,  iii.  243. 

—  knowledge  of,  compared    to   Ithnriel*a 
spear,  i.  445. 

—  his  love  constrains  us  to  devote  oor- 
selves  to  him,  i.  296,  iv.  525. 

—  everv  thi;ig  but  loss  in  comparison  of  thtt 
knowledge  of,  iii.  158, 166. 
-^  how  best  obtained, iii.  224. 

—  led  captivity  captive,  iii.  234. 

—  life,  ttc.  vaiutible  if  improved  for  him,  1. 
302. 

—  life  of  grace  is  derived  from  his  fuloei!. 
iii.  146, 160, 175. 

—  a  light  to  the  Apostles,  iii.  86. 

—  k>ve  and  humility  highest  attainmenti  in 
school  of,  i.  479. 

—  love  of,  attaches  believers  to  him,  iii.  197. 
~—  imr  highest,  beneath  our  obligations,  L 

587. 

—  iuve  of,  towards  us,  directed  by  infinite 
wisdom,  i .  560,  ii.  74. 
•—  hhould  be  our  constant  theme,  i.  268,  ii. 
236. 

-— *  source  of  believer's  joy  and  obedioficei 
■.  328. 
lowliness  of,  iii.  135. 

—  magnaiiimi^  of^  perfect,  iii.  164. 
•  marvellous  in  bis  providence,  iii.  283. 
>  mediation,  the  great  final  caaae  of  his.  iii. 
237. 

—  mediatorial  kingdom  of,  will  have  an  end. 
iii.  396.  ^ 

--  medium  of  oommnaieation  of  light  and 

love  to  his  people,  iii.  396. 
*-  meekness  of,  iii.  140. 
'—  mcetness  of  to  expiate  our  sins,  what  cqa* 

stituted,  iii.  202. 

—  miracles  o^  undeniable,  iii.  317. 

—  ascribed  to  Beelsebub,  iii.  183. 
--  mistake  of  the  Jews  concerning  the  place 

of  hu  birth,  iii.  154. 

—  sole  lord  of  conscience,  iii.  455. 
^-  mistaken  potion  ef  the  Jew)i  ceacejrainf . 

iii.  416. 


609 


INB£X. 


Jssvs  Christ,  must  be  God  in  order  to  re- 
deem sinners,  ii.  69. 

•--  nenie  of,  written  vpoD  his  vesture  and 
thigh,  iii.  298. 

^-  necessity  of  entire  dependence  on,  t.  309. 

— »  entire  tnnt  in  him,  i.  587, 59i, 

—  no  sorrow  like  to  hii^  tii.  191 . 

-*•  aone  can  say  Lord  but  by  the  Holy  Ghost, 

i.  301. 
••-  obedience  and  sufferiaf^s  of,  imputed  to 

believers,  iii.  208. 

—  obedience  of,  unto  deaih,  disroyers  way 
of  reconciliation  with  God,  iii.  89. 

»—  the  object  of  divine  worship  in  the  primi- 
tive chutch,  iv.  461. 

—  offcesof,ii  70. 

—  prove  his  deity,  ii.  121. 

—  on  comioK  to,  ii.  146. 

—  only  founder  of  a  rnUgion  unconnected 
with  human jpolicy,  iii.2w. 

-«-  only  way  or  access  to  God,  iii.  549. 

«— opposition  he  met  with,  true  ground  of,  ii 

—  oppoeition  to,  groundless  and  uoreasona- 
blerai.265. 

— **  vain,  ineffectual  and  ruinous,  tii.  867. 
—-  our  knowledge  of,  exceedingly  small,  ii 

—  person  o«;  ii.  28. 

^-^  and  sufferings  of,  show  misery  of  man, 
and  means  of  recovery,  ii.263. 

"^    'cian,  the  great  and  infallible,  i.  fiSO, 


•-political  events  subserve  the  eKtablinh 
meat  of  his  kingdom,  iii.  38, 260,284, 289, 

—  posseaed  of  the  ineommunicnble  attri- 
butes of  Deity,  iii.  121 . 

—  poverty  of,  but  little  laid  to  heart,  iv.  494. 

—  power  of,  should  iuspire  us  with  confi- 
d(BBce,  iii.  302. 

—  poverty  and  humiliation  of,  why  he  ap- 
peared in  such  a  state,  iii.  102, 141, 157. 

—  predictions  of,  ii.  56. 

—  predicted  his  own  sufferings,  iii.  157. 
-^  prefigured  by  sacrifices  of  the  law,  iii. 

—  prejudices  against,  not  peculiar  to  Jews, 
iii.  146. 

—  presence  of,  continually  necessary,  i.  393. 

—  renders  his  people  happv,  iv.  297. 
— —  renders  all  situations  alike,  iv.  433. 

—  the  Dresent  and  future  rest  of  believers, 

—  present  still  in  his  cbnrch.  iii.  48, 238. 

—  prevaiUngintereession  oi,  iii. 361. 

—  priestly  office  of,  ii.  72. 
•^  promises  of,  ii.  61. 
-—  prophetical  office  of,  ii.  71. 
->  proposed  to  our  first  parents,  in  what  res- 
pect, iii.  30. 

—  questtona  of^  to  Peter,  i.  481. 

—  received  gifts  for  the  rebellious,  Iii.  232. 

—  reception  ofhis  gospel  by  the  world  illus- 
trated, i.  296.      "    "^    ' 

«•  regal  office  of,  ii.  73. 

—  reigns  on  a  throne  of  grace,  iii.  284. 

—  represeate  his  people,  iii.  216. 

— >  his  reproofs  excited  opposition,  ii.  276. 


Jes«s  Christ  resembles  the  sun,iv.ri&! 

—  resistance,  wh^  be  permits,  iii  299. 

—  resurrection,  important  consequences  of 
the,  iii.  318. 

—  resurrection  of,  the  pledge  and  patiem  of 
ours,  iii.  210. 

—  the  grand  foundation  of  the  truth  of 
Christianity,  iii.  206. 

—  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  iii.  322. 

~-  retRins  his  human  nature  till  the  restitu- 
tion of  all  things,  iii.  217. 

—  riches  ofhis  gracje  inexhaustiblp,  i.  669. 

—  the  grace  of,  unaearchable,  iii.  76, 129, 
235. 

— •  righteousness  of,  our  all  in  all,  i.  264. 

—  rules  his  euemies  with  a  rod  of  iroo,  iii 
576. 

•  till  his  enemies  are  suhdueil,  iii.  266. 

-'  the  kingdoms  of  providence  and  grace, 

»•  ^9S.  ,      ^. 

^-  salvation  of  sinners  his  great  desigs,  m. 

161. 

—  scriptural  images  of,  i.  367. 

—  scriptural  depeiidance  on,  how  distin- 
guished, iv.  253. 

—  Scripture  precedents  of  praying  to,  »»«• 
396. 

—  Scripture  testimony  to,  ii.  G7. 

—  sense  of  our  obligations  to,  uiay  reconcile 
to  continuance  here,  i.  307. 

—  sentiments  of,  will  determine  our  eieroal 
state,  iii.  44.  . 
■  separated  for  a  season  from  presence  tna 
communionof  God,  iii.  168. 

—  senice  of,  easy  and  pleasant,  ii.  167.     , 

—  severity  with  which  he  treated  the  Phan- 
sees,  iii.  164.  . 

—  shakes  the  heaven  and  earth,  in  «»» 
sense,  iii.  46.  , 

—  Shepherd  ofhis  people,  and  therefore  Je- 
hovah,i.300. 

—  shows  the  evil  of  sin,  iii.  177. 

—  sin  charged  upon  him  as  our  surety,  »u 
172. 

—  sinners  arc  pardoned,  without  exccptioe? 
for  the  sake  of,  Iii.  366.  .  ^ 

—  the  source  of  Ufflil  to  the  moral  anu  8p»"*' 
ual  workJ,  iii.  77,  79, 149.  ...  ^ 

-  sta:c  of  the  world  at  his  advent,  in.  3'- 


—  stron}^  and  mt|(bty 
•—  sufferings  of,  IV.  2^ 


in  battle, iii.  Sl-i- 


from  men  light  in  compansoa 


ofirh«i 
he  suffereil  from  his  Father,  iii .  445. 
—  afford  ground  to  cloiy  in  tribuUiHon,"" 
168. 

—  voluntary,  iii.  159,  164, 176.  ^ 

—  sufficiency  of,  i.  266,  271,  327,41l,4J» 
601,  &c.  ,    .  ,,„ 

—  sympathy  of,  with  his  people,  i.  «>»*    . 
"Styles  himself,  in  a  pe«»««^  "fX'itfc, 

Son  of  God,  the  resurrection  and  tbe  luc, 

iii.  164.  ^,      ..  arn 

-  taught  his  disciples  gradually,  "..X^-  ..; 

-  teaches  the  most  iniportsnt  Uiispi 

-  tendency  of  the  constrainieg  Ww  of,  • 

-  testified  of,  by  prophets,  u-  oJ- 


INDEX. 


608 


Jesvs  Christ,  the  ^reat  teacher,  tvho  gives 
capacity  to  learn,  in.  137. 

—  the  true  ark,  iii.  233. 

—  title  of  sou  of  Da  rid  apiiropnate  to,  iii 
47. 

—  look  Bot  on  Iiim  the  nature  of  angels,  iii 
163. 

—  trains  up  his  people  by  various  exercises, 
iii.  367. 

—  transitguration  of,  iii.  166. 

—  twofuki  naiiire  of,  it.  67. 

—  types  of.  ii.  62. 

— —  revealed  and  at  the  same  time  conceal- 
ed him,  iii,  30. 

—  united  really,  though  mystically,  to  his 
people,  iii.  79, 177. 

—  unpitied  and  without  comforter,  iii.  188. 

—  in  what  sense  filled  the  temple  with  hi» 
glory,  iii.  48, 

—  what  especially  endears  hliu  to  the  soul, 
i.27S. 

—  what  it  is  to  come  to,  iii.  132. 

—  why  called  the  desire  of  all  nations,  iii 
45, 64. 

—  why  his  appearance  was  sudden  to  the 
Jews,  iii.  65. 

—  why  necessary  that  he  should  appear  in 
ourna:ure,  iii.61. 

-•*  work  of,  in  the  heart,  compared  to  corn 

and  to  a  building,  i.  393. 

to  an  oak,  i.  3191,  633i. 

to  the  lighting  of  a  fire,  i.  443. 

— •  works  of,  necessarily  suppose  a  divine 

power,  ii.  121. 

—  woi*9liip  of,  ttltimaiely  referred  to  him 
who  sitteth  on  the  llirone.  iii.  396. 

—  worshipped  by  angels,  iii.  233. 

—  yoke  of,  sermon  oo,  ii.  160. 

—  agreeable  to  inclination  of  the  believer, 
ii.  169. 

^asv,  iii.  137, 141. 

—  our  advocate,  a  comfortable  declaration, 
iv.  270. 

—  fountain  of  grace,  i.  261. 
Jewish  economy,  striking  prediction  of  the 

destruction  of,  iii.  47. 
Jews  overwhelmed  with  gross  darkness,  iv. 
413.  ^ 

—  demonstrate  the  truth  of  scri|>ture,  iii.  47. 
ignalvu  condemned  to  the  wikl  beasu  by 

Trajan,  ii.  378. 
Ignorance,  in  itself  sinful,  i.  357. 

—  and  guilt  reciprocally  connected,  ii.  71. 

—  causes  of,  ii.  103. " 

—  the  best  mode  of  removing,  iv.  44i. 
Ignorant,  address  to  the,  ii.  1 14. 
Illumination,  oa  gradual  increase  of,  i.  189. 
Image  of  God,  totally  lost  by  sin,  i.  355. 
Imao^ination,  capable  of  making  usinconcei- 

val)ly  happy  or  miserable,  i.  315. 
—•  a  cultivated,  what  it  commonly  means,  i. 
316. 

—  strictly  speaking,  not  aspirittml  faculty,  i. 
323. 

Immamf«2,  a  tittle  of  the  Messiah,  iii.  63. 
Im))erfection,  primitive  Christians  not  whol- 
ly free  from,  ii.  414. 
Imputed  righteousness,  doctrine  of,  iii.  208. 
Indepeadent,  title  of,  more  justly  ofipllcable 


to  ministers  of  «sCabtisbaent  than  anyoth* 

ers,  iii.428. 
indepewienJts,  admit  usages  of  which  no  trace 

appeara  in  inspired  account  of  primitive 

churches,  iii.  4x3. 
Indolence  highly  sinful   and  injuriomi,  ir. 

387. 
Indwelling  sin,  an  active,  powerful  caiue,  i. 

432.  "^        . 

— —  author^s  conflict  with,  iv.  240, 260, 265. 
— -*  efi'ects  of,  must  be  felt,  iv.  265. 
Infants,  consoling  considerations  under  kM8 

of,  iv.  346. 

—  probably  constitute  the  multitude  before 
tne  throne,  iv.347. 

Infidelity  congenial  to  human   nature,  iii. 

621. 
Ingratitude,  proof  of  depravity,  ii.  19. 
Inoculation,  arguments  for  and  against,  i. 

524. 
Iii»ensibility  of  man,  proof  of  depravity,  i. 

17.  s 

—  hownnanifested,  ii.  17, 19. 
Instances,  in  which  the  creattireis  usedcoit- 

trary  to  design  of  the  Creator,  i.  199« 
[nsuirution,  the  (|uesfion  concerning,  i.  599. 

—  black,  or  thie  influence  of  the  evil  »irils« 
i.  298, 311. 

Intercession  for,  best  proof  of  love  to  friends, 
iv.  260. 

—  of  believers,  valuable  privilege,  iv.  268. 
Introductory  ooservalions  to  author*s  narra- 
tive, i.  7. 

Inward  witness  of  faitb,  letter  on  the,  i.  103. 
Job's  faith  and  e3U)ectation,  iii.  305. 

—  recollection  ol  former  Slate,  iii.  195. 

—  greatness  of  his  trials, iii.  352. 
Jomdab's  answer  to  Amaon,  how  to  be  ia- 

pro\ed,iii.  192. 
Josephus  referred  to,  ii.  36. 
John  Baptist  J  hairbinger  of  Messiah,  i.  7, 19, 

31,56. 

-  reflections  on  his  death,  iii.  40. 
John  and  Peler  heal  a  lam<s  man,  ii.  301. 

•  imprisoned,  ii.  302. 

•  banished  to  Patmos,  probably  by  Donli* 
tian,  ii.  377. 

'  behaviour  of^  when  dismissed  from  Jew* 
ish  council,  iii.  203. 

Jonesy  Mr.  his  ^'  Catholic  Doctrine  of  the 

Trinity'*  commended,  i.  444. 
Joy,  the  sure  grounds  of  the  Christiao'si  it. 

i43. 

—  manner  in  which  should  be  manifested) 
iv.  144. 

Joseph,  reflections  on  history  of,  iii.  232. 
Joshua,  the  high  priest,  iii.  367. 
Isaiah,  wiiy  styled  a  fifth  Evangelist,  iii.  30. 
"  disiinguLshed  by  magnificent  ininge^,  iii. 

34. 
Uai^h,  XXX.  1.  explanation  of,  iv.  350. 
Israel,  afflictions  of,  in  £Igypt,  prepared  thea 

to  receive  Moses'  message  with  pleasure^ 

iii.  451, 

conduct  of\  before  and  after  the  eaptin- 


ty,ii.255,!&6 
•  h  istory  of.  proves  human  depravity,  ii.  254. 
-^  a  suitable  represenialioa  of  oar  own* 

Ki.  617. 


eo4 


INDElCrf 


ItrMJ,  rttiKioiM  eitabliskmeDt  of,  by  what 

figured,  ill.  47. 
iiraeUUtf  refl«etioiis  on  God*ft  feeding  them 

with  manna,  i.  310.    See  Pharaoh. 
Jodaizing  Christians,  eontroversies  excited 


by,  ii.  928. 
JutUUf  it 


r,  the  traitor^  remarkably  circum^peiii 
in  his  condnct,  it.  291. 
— -  aggravations  of  his  goilt,  iii.  189.^ 

—  testimony  to  Christ^s  inuo(*e nee,  iii.  190. 
Judgment  and  practice,  bumbling  difference 

betikreen,i.262,271. 

—  under  Christ's  authority,  ii.  130. 

—  day  of,  all  human  things  should  be  estimn 

Sd  now  by  the  light  in  which  they  will 
en  appear,  i,  286. 
Japifer, as  described  by  Homer,  iii.  75. 
Justice  of  God  maaifested  in  gift  of  Christ, 
ii.47. 

—  seen  in  cross  of  Christ,  ii.  135. 
Justification  before  God  is  by  faith  alone,  ii, 

909. 

—  floctrine  of,  explainedf  iii.  206. 
■^—  importance  of,  iii.  362. 
——often   misunderstood  and  abased,  iii. 

362. 

—  inseparably  eonnected  with  regeneration 
and  sanctification,  iii.  465. 

Jiutu»  and  5tfa«  accompany  Fanl  and  Barna- 
bas to  Aatioch,  ii*  830. 

K. 


KarsJrMjMov  explained,  note,  ii.  265. 
King,  a  title  of  Messiah,  iii.  109. 

—  of  glory,  iii.  215. 

—  of  kingff,  iii.  110. 

King's  recovery,  sermon  on,  iit.  581. 
Kings,  eastern,  usually  sent  harbingers  be< 
fore,  iii.  36. 

—  arrogant  style  of,  iii.  297. 

—  of  the  earth,  designs  of,  subservient  to 
God's  will,  iii.  38. 

Kingdom  of  God,  i.  503. 

—  heaven,  what  it  signifies,  iii.  78. 
Knowledge,  acquired  and  experimental,  dif- 
ference between,  i.  262, 270. 

-*-  of  God  the  only  proper  ground  of  glory 
and  joy,  i.  280. 

—  the  |>ur8«it  of  every  branch  of,  not  con- 
n<»ct«»d  with  the  one  thing  needful,  ridicu< 
Ions,!.  483. 

—  viud  and  experimental,  can  only  be  re- 
ceive<)  from  the  Holy  Spirit,  i.  504. 

—  falsely  so  called,  wjliat,  iii.  117. 

—  inefficacy  of,  i.  143. 
*—  of  God,  what  is,  ii.  527. 

—  •'  Christ,  privileges  annexed  to  the,  iv, 
976. 

—  snares  of,  i.  77. 


Last  day,  reflections  on.  iii.  280, 325. 

—  how  consideration  ol,  shmtld affect  iis,%: 
331. 

Latter  or  last  days,  what  they  denote  in  ths 

prophetic  style,  iii.  310. 
LatOf  Mr.  character  of,  iii.  183. 

—  defects  in  his  ftystem,  iii.  183. 

—  sentimenis  of,  referred  to,  iii.  439. 

—  system,  uucomfortablenew  of,  iii.  44S. 
Law,  on  the  right  ase  of,  i.  202, 206. 
-—  scrt))tural  signification  of  the  term,  i.  SflS. 

-  ignoraiire  of  nature  of,  the  giiwd  root  of 

ermr,  i.202. 
^-  its  extent  and  requirements,  ii.  23. 
— >  parp(i»e«  for  which  given,  i.  904,  iii.M- 

—  lawfuilv  used  as  a  nseaaa  of  conviction,  i. 
207. 

^~  n  glass  to  l>ehold  God*s  glory,  i .  207. 

—  a  nile  to  regulate  our  spiriis,  i.  208. 
>  a  test  to  judge  of  the  exercise  of  grace,  i. 
208. 

—  promulgated  on  mount  Sinai,  iii.  43.^ 
'^  curse  of,  includes  evciy  upecies  of  miKty^ 

iii.  167.  ... 

—  gives  efficacy  to  the  sting  of  death,  iii.3«- 
~  in  what  sense  St.  Paul  without,  qoce,«. 

143. 

meaning  of,  as  contradistinguished  iron 
thef;osipet,i.202.  * 

— .  prejndiccs  against,  removed  by  Holy  Spir' 
»t»«.205.  .. 

—  ceremonial,  in  what  respect  weak,ui.w. 
— —  a  shadow  of  good  things  to  coBe,m> 

212. 

what  gave  life  and  aignificancy  lo,  in- 


Labouring  and  heavy  laden  sinners  descri- 
bed, ii.  139. 
Lamb  of  God,  the  great  atonement,  iii.  143, 

!-»«  ^"y*  emphatically  the  day  of  the  Loid, 


91. 

——a  yoke  and  burden,  iii.  28. 
— -  superseded  by  the  gospel,  iii.  28. 

—  abrogation  of,  by  what  ty|iffied,  ii«.  47, 
Laws,  some  of  the  la'nd  evenwally  proswi* 

sin,  iii.  530. 
Laxants,  remirrection  of,  emblematic  of  w 
new  birth,  iii.  115.  . 

—  the  beggar,  parable  of,  coasidered,  ih. 

lis. 

Learning,  in  what  lights  if  may  he  ooBSllls^ 
ed  iiselnl  or  dangerons,  i.  391-  . 

—  without  divine  aKsistanec,  liable  to  »«• 
man  further  astrav,  ii.  60. 

Uighton,  archbishop.  Bishop  Bornel'*  char- 
acter of,  i.  506. 

—  quoted,  ii.  66. 

AgM-oupyixa,  meaning  of,  iii.  227.  _ 
I.^  X.  p«^,  profane  expreecion  o(j  '";^^^* 
Ijctters,  direcffons  how  to  write,  iv.404. 
Letters  to  a  Wife^  iv.  15.  ,       . 

—  autiior'«  views  in  publishiiwff  «y.  13.  . 
J>i'i,  sons  of,  in  what  sense  purified  by  Cbris^ 

"'■^5-  .  ...  «.« 

Lewdness,  fatal  effects  of,  iii.  277. 

Library,  plan  of  a  Cbristisn,  1. 137.    ^      . 

Life,  mUhenUc  narrtdive  of  the  sothors,  i-  »• 

Life,  the  only  reason  why  truly  desirswc,!. 

284,307. 


—  valuable,  if  enabled  to  improve 


sllfor 


Christ,  i,  302.  ,  ,  . .  .„ 

*-  divided  between  God  and  the  worttf,  w 

what  sense  desirable,  i.  336.  t^  fl*r 

—  DO  permanent  stale  in,  that  can  m»w  «^ 


INDCX. 


eo» 


«!cperi<>nce  ceaie  to  be  a  ttato  of  warfare 
and  humiliation^  t.  385. 

—  human,  no  state  of,  tree  from  anxietyi  die- 
|(UM,  aira  diMppointnent,  iii.  33. 

•—  HfTords  a  pcr|)etual  commentHry  oo  the 

Scriptureiiy  iii.  139. 
-—  cannot  be  affected  by  any  thing  until  our 

work  i«idone>  iv.  355. 

—  ol  faith  denerilMNl,  iv.  262. 
—— difference  between  a  theoretical  and 

expenoiental,  iv.  421 . 
— — •  happincM  of,  ii.  92. 
an  inexplicable  mystery, uU  experienee 

makes  plain,  i.  297. 
— ^  how  ttiaiotained,  iv.  341 . 

—  the  Christian's  compared  to  a  race,  ii 
197. 

—  view  in  which  irafiortant,  iv.  277. 
Liffht,  figuratively  used  in  Scripuire,  iii.  17. 
Literary  studies  liable  lo  prove  snares  to 

roinistere.  iii.  572. 

Liturgy  anc  rubric,  expediencv  of,  iii.  405. 

Liturgy,  general  character  of  the  established, 
iii.  405. 

Logic,  advantage  of,  Dr.  Watts*  recommend- 
ed, i.  79,  iii.  491. 

London  and  country  grace,  difference  be- 
tween, i.  562. 

TjAion  and  Otn«tji  reflections  on  the  aothor's 
siioalion  at,  iv.  431. 

Looking  to  Jesuit,  only  effectnnl  way  of  par- 
ticipating in  his  ima^e,  i.  56T. 

— -^  benefits  of,  iv.  329. 

t—  the  great  secret  of  Christianity,  iv.27C, 

Lord*fl  day,  religious  feasting  on,  scandalous 
and  ahorainahie,  iv.  495. 

Loij  reflections  oo  the  flight  of,  from  Sodom, 
iii.  346. 

Lots,  remarks  on  the  use  of,  i.  192. 

Love,  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  being 
in,i.  16. 

—  consoling  considerations  under  the  pros* 
pect  of  disappointment  in,  iv.  311. 

»-of  the  brethren,  letter  on,  i.209. 

—  principles  and  properties  of,  i.  210. 

—  nappiness  of.  i.  211. 
...  deficiency  or,  in  present  dnyJi.  211. 

—  the  characteristic  of  true  Christianity,  i. 
212. 

Love  of  Cfcriif,  sermon  on  the  constraining 

influence  o^  iv.  413. 
the  chief^motive  of  St.  Paul's  conduct, 

iv.521. 
— —  description  of,  iii.  454,  iv.  521. 
renders  his  yoke  easy,  ii.  167. 

—  of  God,  the  Best  casuist,  i.  333,440.  ^ 
-«—  the  principle  of  lo\e  to  brethren,  i.210. 
consistent  with  social  and  relative  affec- 
tions, iv.  510. 

— — •  in  gift  of  his  Sen,  ii.  46. 

— —seen  in  cross  of  ChrtM«  ii.  ]3i. 

—  considerations  on,  iii.  2,33. 

—  And  man,  the  essence  of  religion,  i.  408, 

—  effects  which  should  bo  piodured  by,  i. 
449. 

—  obedience  the  best  test  of,  i.  5.'>7. 

—  the  fulfilling  of  the  liiw.  iv.  259. 

—  the  noblest  principle  otlhe  soul  should  be 
fixed  on  its  proper  nl7|>cl.  iii.  196. 


Love  nod  meekneis,  the  peeoltar  marii  of 
chritiantty,  i.  406. 

>  and  humility^  the  highest  attainments  in 
Christ's  school,  i.  479. 

LowncBS  of  spirits,  effects  of,  i.  4S8. 

LtHtUi,  bishop,  demonstrates  a  peculiar  pro- 
perty in  Hebrew  poetry,  iii.  34. 

Lunatics,  are  as  reasonable  as  any  persons 
On  earth  who  glory  in  themselves,  i.  280. 

—  why  worldly  men  resemble  them,  iii.  33. 
Luther^  mistake  of,  with  respect  tu  St.  James^ 

ii.  206. 

—  ofiinion  of,  on  doctrine  of  justification,  iii. 
360. 

Ltjdia  converted  by  Paurs  preaching,  ii.  333. 

—  care  of,  iii.  658. 
Lord's  Prayer,  scriptural  warrant  for  using, 

■•  407. 

M. 

Madeira,  voyage  to,  i.  25. 
Madness,  a  common  ch<trge  against  Chris- 
tians, it.  364. 

—  apostles  and  primitive  ehrtstians  aeeosed 
of,iv.5l7. 

Magicians  bom  their  books,  ii.  346. 
Magnanimity,  true,  essential  and  peculiar  to 
a  christian,  iii.  159. 

—  superior  to  what  philosophy  can  teach,  iii. 

Mahomet  blended  religious  and  civil  institu- 
tions, iii.  205. 
...  prevalence  of  his  religion  where  the  gos* 

pel  once  flourished,  iii.  284. 
Malaclti  confirms  aud  unites  the  propheciea 

of  Isaiah  and  Haggai,  iii.  52. 
Man,  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made,  iii. 

279. 

.  fallen,  nature  of,  i.  217. 

—  foolish,  i.  217. 
—^  devilish,  i.  218. 
-^  inimical  to  the  gospel,  i.  221. 
— —  fallen,  incapable  of  doinst  any  thing  Vk* 

vingly  without  the  grace  of  God,  i.  ^70. 

.  inaoility  of,  not  natural  hot  moral,  i.  371 . 
...  majestic,  though  in  ruins,  i.  355,  iii.  322. 
...  natural,  incapable  of  discerning  the  thiiifs 

ofGod,i.359. 
...  natural  disposition  of,  viiable  in  hit  viewa 

of  the  divine  peirfections,iii.  376. 
...  misery  of,  seen  in  person  and  sufferian  of 

Christ,  ii.  263. 
...  no  moral  goodness  in  his  viriaet)  iii.  376. 
...  originally  immortal,  iii.  223. 
...  a  solecism  in  creation,  iii.  322. 
Jlnesttf  Mr.  kindness  of,  to  the  author,  iv.  7. 
Mani'festatioa  of  the  Sons  of  God  explained, 

i.  198. 
Mankind,  hirtory  of,    confirms    scriptural 

statement,  ii.  253. 
...  the  lost  and  fallen  state  of,iv.527. 
Manila,  reflections  on  the,  i.  311. 
Mtrk  deserts  Saul  and  Barnabas,  ii.  323. 
...  tr:iveis  with  Barnabas  to  Cyprus,  ii.  33L 
Marks  of  a  lively  state,  i.  235. 
Marriage,  author's  own,  happiness  of,  iv, 

365,369. 
...  curious  remarks  on  the  anthor  s  I  v.  41^, 


606 


iimEX. 


Marriage  y  coop^tdlatiousOD  tb&lof  a  fnend, 

iv.  313. 
...  state  of,  approaches  the  ueareat  possible  to 

bappinesS)  iv.  11. 

—  reflpctiona  on,  i  v.  257. 

—  remarkn  on,  and  directions  with  refer- 
ence to,  iv.364,  369. 

— -  snares  and  enjoyments  of,  iv.  314. 
-*-  trials  of,  iv.  25?;  258. 
»— -the  most  interesting  and  endeared  rela- 
tion, yet  aubject  to  heavy  drawbacks,  iv. 

eo8. 

•— —  unlawful  to  enter  upon  without  a  pros- 


pect of  support,  i.5l8. 
Matbcmaiical  studios  tend  to  fix  the  mind  in 

a  cold  contemplation  of  tni^b,  i.  543. 
Means,  diligent  attention  to,  consistent  with 

belief  in  God*s  sovereignty,  ii.  369. 
Meekness  and  love,  the  peculiar  spirit  of 

Christianity,  i.  406. 
Jlfe^zndAon*^  experience  referred  to,  ii.  82. 
Memoirs,  difficulty  of  writing  our  oivn,  i.  10. 
Men  are  but  children,  of  a  larger  grawtb,  iii. 

44,  107.      . 

—  arrogant  assumption  of  titles  that  intrench 
on  God's  pren>garive,  iii.  297. 

—  designs  of  all,  overruled  by  God,  iii.  160. 

—  heroism  of^  often  arise«  from  a  weak  and 
little  mind,  iii.  159. 

—  highly  criminal  in  rejecting  tlio  gospel,  iii 
49. 

*-  how  far  to  be  followed,  iii.  171. 

—  indiflferenco    with    which,    behold    the 
works  of  creation,  iii.  143. 

—  left  to  themselves,  bring  ruin  down  upon 
them,  iii.  534. 

-—  natural  inability  of,  no  arj^unent  Against 
usinf^  the  means  of  grace,  iii.  Idl.^^^ 

—  ori^nal  source  of  tneir  apostacy,  iii.  112, 

—  pre|udicesa^inst  Christ  deeply  rooted  in 
toeir  minds,  iii.  153. 

•—  relation  of,  to  God,  iii.  327, 

—  their  contempt  of  the  gospel,  to  what  com- 
pared, iii.  51.^ 

—  vanity  of  their  wisdom,  iii.  S89. 
Messenger  of  the  Covenant,  a  title  of  Mes- 
siah, iii.  53. 

Messiah,  Sermons  on  the.  iii.  25. 

—  a  character  of  the,  iii.  45. 
-—defective  idea  of,  under  Old  Testament 

church,  iii.  SO. 

—  Christ,  or  the  anointed,  iii.  102.    See 
Jesus. 

—  an  oratorio,  account  of,  iii.  26. 
■        obitcrvalions  on  the  music  of,  iii.  44. 

—  reflections  on  the  performance  of.    See 
Handel. 

Metaphysics,  inutitiiy  and  uncertainty  of,  iii. 

494. 
Mighhj  Godf  a  name  of  the  Meffeiah,  iii.  94. 
Millennium,  opinions  concerning  the,  iii 

290. 
MUloTi's  character  of  Abdiel,  i.  305. 
Minister,  remarkable  case  of  a.  i.379. 

j: A .^ •.„  .1 !.-•    ^  ^r  . 


Minimem,  all  servants  and  ambassa^  ol 
Christ,  i.  126. 

—  apfwinted  by  Christ,  ii.  129. 

—  endeaVours'of,  successfal  only  by  God's 
blessing,  iii.  245. 

—  exposed  to  peculiar  trials  ii.  386. 

—  faithful,  described,  ii.-407. 

—  eminent  for  love  to  Christ  and  Cbrit- 
tians,  iii.  392. 

—— 'Zealous  attacbmcAit  to  purity  of  tb« 
Gofli|)el,  ii.  394. 

—  find  abundant  reward  in  the  efiiectsof  tbetr 
ministry,  iii.  250. 

—  [gospel,  called  and  prepaid  by  the  Lord, 
ill.  244. 

•  illustration  of  their  labours  as  inatnimeDts 
ofGod,  ii.473. 

—  in  what  light  should  regard  tlieir  laboursj 
iv.340. 

—  in  what  sense  servants,  iii.  429. 

•  irregular,  exposed  to  incoa^eoieiice,  it. 
305. 

— >  labours  of,  sfaall  not  wholly  fieiii,  ii.  83. 

—  must  sp<»ak  llie  truth,  ii.  15. 

—  necessity  of  having  a  deep  sense  of  tbe 
evil  of  sin,  i.411. 

-~  necessity  of  preaching  as  to  condensed 
criminals,  j.  3fy2. 

—  not  necessarily  tbe  bc^  Christians,  i^> 

—  not  gentlemen  but  soldiers,  iii.  483. 
-«- points  of  distinction  between  trae  and 

fais«>,  iii.553. 

—  proper  character  of,  described  in  Epistle* 
to  Timothy  and  Titus,  ii.  386. 

—  relief  ofj  lies  in  the  wisdom  and  •ove* 
reignty^  ot  God,  i.  321. 

—  sanation  of  one  soul,  aufiieiem  to  over- 
balance all  their  labours,  i.  d21. 

—  should  examine  thenselvesby  St.  Paul 
ii.403. 

—  of  the  Gospel,  their  lot  with  reyct  to 
mnjorityof  hearers,  like  that  of  Cm»»- 
dra,  i.  320. 

—  should  guard  against  over  attacbneiit  to 
literary  pursuits,  iii.  571. 

—  why  sorely  exercised  both  withoai  apd 
within,  i.  484. 

—  though  unsucceaaful,  yet  shall  be  accep- 
ted, ii.  83. 

—  worldly,  inefficaoy  of  their  preacbingi  k- 
400,  iii.' 129,  343. 

—  compared  to  idol  shepherds,  iii.  138.  ^ 
Ministrv,  place  of  academical  prcparstion, 

fur,  ill.  471. 

—  characters  of  3roQDg  men  to  be  cboseo  as 
candidates  for.  iii.  481 .  ... 
.  course  of  studies  proper  for,  i.78,  iw-wi. 

•  desire  to  preach,  does  aot  of  itself  coa- 
siitute  a  call  to,  iv.  292. 

--  what  evidences  a  call  to  the,  i.467. 

—  tiie  most  honourable  oflScc  in  the  i^orW, 
iv.340. 

—  prayer  for  a  person  devoting  himscu  to, 
iv.  294. 


-directions  to  one,  in  the  choice  of  a  wife,  —small  success  of,  ii.  81. 


i.517. 

Minister  of  Jesus  Christ,  style  of,  iv.  292. 
Ministerial  time-serving,  implies  folly,  iii. 


—  snares  and  difficulties  of,  i.  90.     ,         . 
Miracles  cannot   themselves    convince  « 
truth,  ii.  325. 


IMDSX. 


607 


Mirth  and  Ikappmess  veiy  different  things,  iv, 
•    69. 

Misery,  bow  mach  it  depends  on  the  imagi- 
nation, ii.  315. 

—  a  conseauence  of  the  fall,  iii.  73. 
-^  inseparaoly  connected  with  tin,  iii.  268. 
Melody.    See  Harmony. 
Moderation,  religious,  chiefly  arises  from 

scepticism,  iii.  2272. 

—  with  respect  to  non-essentials,  a  valuable 
part  of  true  wisdom,  iii.  674. 

Money,  obtained  in  a  fair  and  honourable 
way,  on  many  accounts  desirable,  i.  fil7. 

Mottwnentoftiie  Lord's  goodness  towards  Eli- 
za Cuningham,  iii.  41^'. 

Moral  evidence,  in  some  eases  equally  con- 
cluHive  with  mathematical  demonstration, 
iii.  314. 

Morality  alone  unable  to  inspire  the  heart 
with  the  love  and  peace  of  God,  iii.  241. 

Moralist,  the  fine-spun  dress  in  which  he 
clothes  himself,  of  no  more  avail  than  the 
produce  of  a  spider,  i.  294. 

Moravian,  commendation  of  a,  iv.  347. 

MoraxdanSf  extensive  labours  of,  commend- 
ed, iii.  258. 

Morning,  reflections  on  the  appearance  oO 
i.601. 

Mosaic  institution,  inducied  a  spirit  of  bond- 
age, distance,  and  fear,  iii.  64. 

JIfofes,  highly  favoured  by  God,  iii.  77. 

—  meek^  yet  almost  wearied  out  by  Israel 
ites,  iii.  140. 

—  blended  his  religious  with  bis  civil  institu< 
tions,  iii.  140. 

Moses'  ro<l,  an  instrument  of  God  in  the 

hands  of  his  servant,  i.  473. 
Motives  to  humiliation  and  praise,  iii.  615, 
Mourning,  as  much  a  mark  of  true  faiih  as 

consolation,  i.  235. 
Mystery,  explanation  of,  iii.  236. 

—  of  godliness,  St.  PanPs  account  of,  iii.  25. 
Mysleriounncss  of  some  ibiugs,  no  objection 

CO  Revelation,  iii.  463. 

N. 


JferOf  detastable  character  of,  iii.  266. 
Keslor,  eloquence  of,  compared  by  Homer, 

to  a  fall  of  snow,  i.  647. 
New  birth,, distinct  from  the  highest  effects 

of  natural  principles,  i.  446. 

—  or  new  creation.    See  Heart. 
>-  Jerusalem^  i.  165. 

-~  description  of,  not  to  be  understood 

literally,  iii.  291. 
New  translations  of  scripture  inexpedient  in 

public  preaching,  iv.  351. 
New  Year,  reflections  on  the,  i.  305. 
JVewto/i,  Mrs.  account  of  illness  and  death  of, 

iv.  205. 
JiicodemuSf  Chrisl^s  conference  with,  i.  143, 

iii.  222. 
Atco^anf,  ii.429. 
J{v:ok,  M.  bis  opinion  of  great  men  and  con* 

querors,  i.338. 
Ninevites  will  rise  up  in  judgment  against 

tliis  nation,  iii.  600. 
JVtima  blended  his  religious  and  civil  institu- 
tions, iii.  205. 


Name  of  God,  how  taken  in  vain,  ii.  183, 

J85. 
-^  of  Jesus,  preciotisness  of  the,  iv.  249. 
JXaUumiel,  prejudices  of,  accounted  fur,  iii. 

85. 
Nation,  the  danger  aud  resource  of,  sermon 

on,  iii.  597. 
Nations,  by  what  figured,  iii.  46. 
National  church.  Idea  of  a,  i.  344. 
—  debt,  of  lean  moment  tiian  the  debt  of  a 

national  sin,  i.  495. 
National  debt  of  sin,  exceeding  great,  iii, 

629. 
National  sins,  estimate  of,  i.  495. 
Natural  religion,  Africans  and  American  In- 
dians afford  the  only  fair  specimen  of,  iii. 

488. 
Nature,  analogy-  between  kingdom  of,  and 

that  of  grace,  iii.  189. 
Kebuchadntzxar^   an    instrument   in   God^s 

hand,  iii.  300. 
JVcro  persecutes  the  Christians,  ii.  374. 


Oaths,  the  excessive  multiplication  of,  en- 
snaring, ii.  185. 

—  Gods  name  often  t.iken  in  vain  in  the  ad- 
ministei;iiig  of,  ii.  186. 

—  fflultiplicitv  of,  greatly  increase  national 
guiU,  iii.532. 

Obedience,  cross  of  Christ  the  most  power- 
fnl  motive  to,  iv.  243. 

—  produced  by  looking  to  Jesus,  iv.  231. 

—  the  best  test  of  our  love  to  Christ,  i.  657. 
Objections  brought  by  Jews  against  Christ, 

it.  278. 

Observation  and  experience  contribute  grad- 
ually to  soften  and  sweeten  our  spirit,  i. 
439. 

Obstinacy,  in  itself  sinful,  i.  7,  31. 

Occam^  Mr.  siniilHrity  between  his  experi- 
ence aud  that  of  the  author,  iv.  325. 

Offences,  comparative  estimation  of,  among 
men,  iii.  162. 

Old  Testament,  poetical  books  of,  in  what 
respect  distinguished  from  the  mstoricaj^ 
iii.  34. 

Oiney  Hymns^  ii.  441 ,  &tB, 

—  Index  to,  ii.  page  v.  627. 

—  addrei^  to  the  inhabitants  of,  iv.  553. 


OmidA,  reflections  on  his  visit  to  this  island, 

iii.  ^94. 
Ohicron*s  LaterSf  vol.  i.73. 
One  hundred  and  forty-four  thousand,  a  dc 

finite  for  an  indefinite  number,  iii.  377. 
**  One  thing  needful,*'  an  important  aphor- 
ism of  our  Lord,  i .  294, 491 . 
—  explained,  iv.  4i07. 
Ofiposition,  dangers  of,  to  ministers,  i.  84,  iv. 

303. 
Oppression,  a  national  sin,  iii.  678. 
OratorioS)  expediency  of  avoiding,  i.  334,  i. 

491. 
Oratory,  caution  against  the  affectation  of, 

iv.456. 
Order,  disregard  of,  injurious  to  the  can.so  of 

Christ,  iv.  309. 


608 


itosi. 


Ordinai»cet,  Goipel,  pteebnt  to  a  believer, 

•^  caDBot  be  neglected  without  ki«»i.  430. 
OrcJinatinii  reru.sed  to  the  author,  iv.  146. 
...  good  to  believer,  ii.  176. 
OrpAri/f,  re fleclioiu  on  the  ttorvof,  til.  44. 
Ornery,  Lord,  remark  of,  oo  rlisy,  observe- 
liou  on,  iv.  100. 

OvSstS,  meaning  of,  iii.  298. 

Oircfi,  Dr.  referred  to,  i.  102. 

...  kia  **  En^iiou  of  the  130(h  pM&lm"  coni< 

1  tended,  i.  473. 
...  DiMourse  of  on  the  "  Holy  Spirit,*'  at 

epitome  of  bis  writings,  i.  dOd. 
...  opinions  of,  conceniuiK  a  believer*s  direct 

application  of  Chriki,  iii.  390. 


Paal  travels  with  Silas  thioiigb  Sjtii  nd 
Cilicia,ii.331. 

—  chooses  limotbj  for  bis  coBpanioB,  ii. 
332. 

—  vi»ion  of,  at  Troas,  ii.  338. 

—  casts  out  an  evil  spirit  at  Philiniii^  ii.  3S>. 

—  imprisoned  and  scourged  at  rhilippi,  ii. 
334. 

—  asserts  bis  privilege  as  a  Roman,  ii.  336. 

—  preaches  at  Thesfwlonica,  ii.  33G. 
atAtiiens,ii.338. 
at  Corindi,  ii.  340. 

—  meeu  with  Pricilla  and  Aquila,  ii.  SIO. 
— >  accused  before  Gailio,  ii-  343v 

—  arrives  at  Ephesus,  ii.343. 
with  ApoUos,  ii.  343. 


IlavTOX^o^,  a  title  of  Christ,  iii.  384. 

Papisty  characteristic  of  a,  iv.  357. 

Parallel  expressions,  most  prevalent  ia  the 

iwetical  books  of  the  Okl  Testaueai,  iii. 

Famlytic  man,  Christ's  behavioor  to,  iii.  32. 
Pardon  given  by  Christ,  ii.  127. 

—  implies  guili,  iii.  34. 
Parents,  thriranaiety  as  soeh,iii.  126. 
Pameifi  Hermit,  illustrative  of  Divine  Pro- 
vidence^ iv.  66. 

Parochial  Charge,  an  importaAt  situation; 

tv.soe. 

Parties  and  names,  bad  oficcu  of  ao  attach- 
ment to,  iii.  148. 

Parting,  author's  sensations  at,  iv.  87. 

Paitiiiou  wall  lM>tweeu  Jew  and  Grcntile  tak- 
en away,  iii.  77,  111. 

Pasiwral  life,  ancient  8iro|Hictty  Of,  in  eastern 
couutrieft,  iii.  33,  120. 

Patience  of  God  towards  his  people  illustrat- 
ed, iv.  283. 

Patriarchs  and  Prophets,  in  what  seose 
Christians,  ii.  251. 

—  in  what  sense  died  in  faith',  iii.  304. 
Patriot,  character  of  a  real,  i  282. 
f*fu</ «  birth  and  character,  ii.388. 

~—  not  sincere  before  bis  etuiversion,  i.  336. 

—  convei-Mion  of,  i.  9.  iii.  72,  120,  148, 271, 
351,367.  ^ 

—  preaches  at  Antioch  in  Syria,  ii.  318. 

—  carries  the  alma  of  Christians  to  Jerusa< 
lem,  ii.  321. 

^ — appointed  with  Barnabas  to  preach  in  oth- 
er cuuiitrieK,  ii.322. 

—  stoned  at  Lymra,  ii.  326.  iii.  201. 

—  goes  up  with  Barunba^  toconsult  the  Apos- 
ilef^  ut  Jerusalem,  ii.  327. 

—  diifagrces  with  Baruabas  about  Mark,  ii. 
331 

—  travels  to  Cyprus,  ii.  322. 

■  P«frga  and  Pim|>hylia,  ii.  323. 
■    ^    ■     Antioch  in  Pisirlia,  where  preaches 

ill  thesyoai;ogue,  ii.  323. 
— Icouiiiiu,  ii.  324. 

—  heal8  A  cripple  at  Lyslra,  ii.  324. 

—  rcfuKCfi  to  be  worshipped  as  a  god,  ii.  325. 

—  travels  to  Derbe,  ii.  32(i. 

—  returns  lo  Antioch  and  gives  account  of  bis 
labours,  ii.  SiG, 


—  opposed  by  Ephcsian  mob,  ii.  348. 

—  why  opposed  bv  Demetrius,  ui.  3l>3. 
•..  gcMss  to  Troas,  li.  350. 

—  preaches  till  day-break,  ii .  350. 

—  reception  of  among  the  Galaliaof,  iii. »' 

—  raises  a  young  man,  ii.  351. 

—  addresses  the  Ephesiau  elders,  ii.  358. 

—  warned  of  afiproachingsolIiBring,  )<>  P' 
severes  iu  his  journey  to  Jerusalem,  u.m5 

...  inflexible  firuioow  of,  ii.  355. 

...  advised  by  Jewish  brethren  to  coDfens  to 

cereniouiul  law,  ii.  356. 
.-  propriety  of  hia  confomity  douUrol,  u. 

..seised  in  the  temple,  ii.  357. 
...  rescued  by  Lycias,  ii.  357.  ,, 

,.•  defends  himself  before  the  people,  ji.  356. 
...  pleads  Itis  privilege  as  a  Romaa  ciiiieD,it 

..  reproves  the  high  priest,  ii .  959. 

..  takes  advantage  of  dissension  in  the  cosb* 

cil,  ii.360.  ^ 

,..  eucoiiraged  by  a  vision  ofCbri8t,ii.  360.  ^ 
..  provide utialjy  esra|)eiB  the  coui^iiracy  U' 

the  Jews,  ii.  360.  iii.  301. 
..  is  cuu\eved  to  Cesarea,  ii.  360. 
..defence before  Fejix, ii.360. 
..  preaches  before  Felix  and  DrusiHa,"*  m^- 
..  appeals  to  Ca^Hir,  ii.  362. 
..  addresKcs  Agrippa,  ii.  364. 
..  committed  to  custody  of  Julius,  ii.  366. 
..  sails  for  Rome,  ii.  i566. 
..warns  his  fellow  passeugeis  of  spfiroacb- 

ing  danger^  ii.  366. 
..  conifoiied  in  storm  by  an  aagel,  ii>  ^- 
...  shipwrecked,  ii.  370 
,  surpriM»inhabitHni;sofMcliu  by  shaking 

olTa  vi|>er  unhurt,  ii.  370. 

.  entertained  by  Publius,  ii.  370. 

.  arriveb  at  Rome,  ii.  571. 

>.  preaches  to  the  Jews  at  Rome.  ii.371. 

.  foi-saken  b^  his  tbUowers,  iii.  261-  . 
...  remains  ptisuoer  at  Rome  2  years,  M;^^- 
...probably  afterwards  visited  Syria,  li.^*?- 
...  no  certain  acconiitof  him  after  bis  i«P"*' 

onuient ;  probably  visited  Syria,  ana  «i>-' 

martyred  at  Rome,  ii.  373.  . 

...  a!i  exf'fflplar  of  a  minister  of  Jesus  CW»i 

ii.  386. 
..  peculiarlv  eminent  for  love  to  Cans**  u. 

fe9. 

and  love  to  Christians,  ii.  391. 


...  eminent  for  humility,  ii.  406.       ,, 
...  Biiachmcnt  to  Gospel  doctripes,  n.  »>1''^- 


IRJ»X. 


«» 


Faul'd  love  of  Christ  ihe  chief  motive  of  his 

cooduet,  iv.  6S0. 
**—  totbf!  brethren,  causes  of  his,  iii.  647. 
...  would  glory  io  ootbinc  but  Christ  crucified, 

iii.  166,  242. 
...  at  a  loss  for  utterance  when  contemplating 

the  ^lory  of  the  Gospel,  iii.  347. 
...  superiority  of,  to  captains  and  conquerors, 

—  his  conduct  to  the  Jews  who  had  con- 
demned him  unheard,  i.  479. 

—  manifested  ifreal  tenderness  to  weak  con 
sciences,  ii.  3i>d. 

—  success  of,  in  prenchini;  the  Gowel,  iii.  80. 

—  subject  of  his  preaching,  iii.  567. 

—  his  account  of  the  great  mystery  of  godJi 
ness,  iii.  25. 

—  denounced  anathema  against  all  who  love 
not  Christ,  iii.  SII. 

—  remarks  on  his  manner  of  writing,  iii.  340. 

—  dwells  much  on  iwo  suhjecti,  ii.  26. 

—  testimony  of,  to  Christ's  resurrection,  iii. 
314. 

-—  without  law  once,  explained,  ii.  143. 

—  and  St.  James,  apparent  difference  be 
tween,  reconciled,  i.  205,  S06. 

Peace,  all  goo<i  things  comprised  in  the  terra, 
iii.  284.  IV.  299.  ' 

•—  advantajces  of,  in  churches,  &c.  Iv.  259. 

—  the  fniiis  of  rishteoMsnesii,  iii.  276. 

—  the  design  of  Cbtist's  appearance,  iii.  104. 

—  too  dearly  purcliased  at  the  expense  of 
truth,  iii.  356. 

--•  restored,  the  effects  of,  ii.  223. 

I  I I* .1 :«! i_. 


-^  and  holiness,  the  peculiar  characteristics 

of  the  diHciples  of  Jes 
Penitent  thief.    See  thief  on  the  cross. 


PentecoKt,  visible  kingdom  of  Christ  dated 

from  the  day  of,  iii.  77. 
perambulation,  description  of  ii^  iv.333. 
Perfection,  sinless^  doctrine  of,  an  unscrip- 

tural  sentiment,  i.  276. 

—  Why  it  should  be  rejected,  ii.  552. 
Perjury,  one  method  of  taking  God*s 

vain,  i.  185. 
m^iXiuro^,  meaning  of,  iii.  187. 
Persecution,  happy  consequences  of,  ii.  35. 
— •  the  first  promoted  spread  of  Christianity, 

ii.  307. 

—  severity  of  under  Trajan,  iv.  451. 
Perseverance,  on  final,  i.  107. 
...  a  special  mercv  of  God,  iv.  253. 
,..  final,  the  belief  of.  essential  to  peaee, 

though  not  to  salvation,  iii.  458. 

Person  of  Christ,  sermon  on  the,  ii.  117. 

PtUr,  St.  lived  to  glory  in  what  was  once  an 
ofience  to  him,  the  cross  of  Christ,  ii.  347. 

...  observations  on  our  Lord's  qaestion  to,  ii. 
481. 

...  character  of,  admirably  described  by  evan- 
gelists, ii.  290. 

...  denies  Christ,  iii.  187. 

...  sermon  of,  on  day  of  Penteeost,  ii.  301. 

...  and  John  heal  a  lame  man,  ii.  301. 

— -  apprehended  and  imprisoned,  ii.  302. 

...behaviour  when  dismissed  from  Jewisli 
council,  iii.  203. 

...  cures tba  dropsy  and  rvi^esthe  dead,  ii.  314. 

Vol.  iv: 


Pefcr,  hat «  reftarfcabie  virion,  ii.  916. 

...  preaches  to  Coraefius,  ii.  316. 

...  vindicates  hie  conduct  co  Jewish  eooferCi, 

ii.318.  ^ 

...  diteembles  at  Antiocb,  and  is  reproved  by 

Paul,  ii. 329. 
...  doubtful  whether  he  ever  saw  Rome,  fi. 

372. 
...  why  Christ  pronounced  him  blessed,  iii. 

219. 
...  Christ  prayed  for,  before  be  was  tempted, 

iii.  366. 
...  uuscriptnral  inferences  from  his  declara- 

tiuu  that  God  is  no  respecter  of  persona, 

iii.  373.  ^  F-      -» 

Petersburg^  account  of  an  ice  palace  at,  I. 

305. 
Phariseetf  character  of,  ii.  272. 
...  hypocrisy  of,  iu.  37, 41, 66,  86, 154. 
Pharaokf  conduct  of,  instrumental  to  God's 

designs,  iii.  971. 

obduracy  of,  ended  in  his  owa  deslmctioDy 

iii.  278. 

in  what  sense  God  hardened  hie  heart,  iii. 

299.  ^ 

Philip  preaches  at  Samaria,  ii.  906. 

sent  to  convert  an  Ethiopian  eiMoeli.  i{. 

308. 
Phi losophers,  heathen,  wbenee  obtained  best 

sentiments  of  God.  iK.  7& 

merely  moral,  refiectioaa  on,  iii.  138. 

seientific,  few  led  !to  reverential  tbongtits 

of  (>od  by  their  knowledge  of  his  creatures, 

iii.  143. 
Picture,  author's  account  of  his  own,  h.  293. 
Pilate's  deelaratjon  of  Christ's  inaocence,  tti. 

200. 
Pilgrim' t  PrumsB  commended,  iv.  251,256. 
PUrin  Teste  or  true  doctrine,  iv.  467. 
Plan  o/^eademkal  PrtpanHtian  for  tkt  Mile- 


istruyWuASQ. 
Play*bouses,  i " 


,  sinfulness  of  attendinr ,  i.  627. 
Pleasures,  vanity  of  woridly,  i.  391. 
PHn^^  letter  of,  to  Trajan,  referred  to,  iir.  377. 
— ^  Translation  o^  and  remarks  on,  iv.  447. 
Poets,  whence  derived  the  idea  of  a  golden 

age,  iii.  121. 
Poetry,  s^'ie  of,  remote  from  th^  coinaioA 

forms  of  speech,  iii.  198. 

-  Hebrew,  rules  of,  not  eettainly  kMmn, 

iii.  34. 

—  one  peculiar  property  of,  iii.  34. 

— —  advantages  of  this  peeoliarity,  iii.  30. 
noXiT«ufM<,  meaning  of,  iii.  110. 
Political  Zkbatey  letter  on,  iv.  677. 
PomjMj  story  of,  ii.  590. 
Pope,  Mr.  explanadoD  of  an  admired  line  of, 

-^  Mr.  Messiah  of,  an  imitalioo  of  Viigira 

PoUio,  iii.  45. 
Poor,  benevolence  to^  i.  19. 

—  encouragement  to,  ii.  115. 
Popularity,  danger^  of,  to  ministerii  i.  91^  iv. 

-  uncertainty  of^  ii.  32^. 
Popeiy,  persecutions  of,  exceeded  (hevetfC 
pagaaisai,  iii.  271. 


610 


INDGX. 


'^(Mt,  the  convcnienee  of,  a  mcrcyy  iii.  437. 

Poverty,  ad  vAHta^s  of,  i.  170. 

Powera  of  the  imagioatioii  and  of  the  under 

standing,  difierence  between  the,  i.  16d. 
Practice  and  judgment,  haoibliug  difference 

between,  i.  262. 
PraiM,  national  motives  to,  iii.  627. 
Prayer,  believer's  breath,  i.  263. 

—  benefits  of,  i.  267,  316. 
.-  necesMty  of,  i.  431, 475,  ii.  69, 107. 

—  frequent  secret,  gives  life  to  aJi  we  do,  i. 
488. 

•^  a  blessed  privilege,  i.  560. 

—  ami  the  Scriptures  the  wells  of  salvation^ 
i.  565. 

— •  pievcribed  for  our  growth  of  grace,  Ui 

224. 
•^  gives  the  tn>e  relish  to  life,  iv.  152. 

—  instaocesof  siiccessful,iv.  146. 

—  social,  on  the  exerciMof,  i.  153. 

—  forms  of,  may  be  used  with  great  advAo- 
taee,  iii.  406. 

*•-  of  divine  appointment,  iii.  406. 
Pmyer-meetings,  tlieir  happy  tendeacyi  i. 

PreHching,  manner  of  St.  Paul's,  ii.  404. 
...  cantioo  against  improper  modes  of,  i v .  457. 
«..  points  on  which  the  author  chiefly  insist' 

ed,iv.344. 
...  a  gift  from  Qod,  i.  477. 
...  exttynpore,  requisites  for,  i.  475. 
— —  net  necebsaiily  accompanied  with  grace, 

iv.  337. 
-~—  reasoiu  for  preferrinj{,  iii.  127. 
...  itinerant  objections  to,  i.  648, 649. 
...  loudly  and  with  power,  not  qrnonymous,  i. 

Preaching  the  Gospel,  signification  of  the 
phrase,  iv.  454. 

Preaching  by  accommodation,  remarks  on, 
iii.  183. 

Preacher,  a  feminine  termination  to  the  He- 
brew word  with  a  masculine  sense,  iii.  240. 

Preachers,  inslrunienulity  of,  in  ;«viiig  oth- 
ers, provPK  nothing  concerning  their  own 
itate,ii    194,  iii.  245. 

...  subject  to  peculiar  exercises  of  mind.  iv. 
312. 

PredeNtination,  expressly  taught  iu  the  Scrip- 
tures, i.  365. 

...  doclnne  of,  iii.  147. 

Prefeiment,  not  necessary  to  our  peace  or 
usefulness,  i.345. 

...  church,  dreadful  in  any  other  view  than 
that  of  usefulness,  i.  402. 

Presence  of  Christ  solely  affords  consolation, 
iv.  245. 

Preservation  from  sin,  a  special  mercy  of 
Oc»d,iv.253. 

...  how  effecMed,  iv.  2.53. 

Price,  Dr.  ingenvous  but  mournful  confession 
w<  Ims  unceriaiuly  on  religious  subjects,  iv, 

Pridt,  Gixrs  pur|x>se  to  stain,  ii.  112. 
.,.pn>of  of  depravity,  ii.  20.    Universal  in- 
fluence of,  ibid. 
...  rooted  deep  in  our  fallen  nature,  i.  538. 
...foundation  of  heathen  virtue,  iii.  151. 
.i.a  cauM  of  uabeliefi  iv.  498. 


Pridf ,  a  national  sin,  tii.  6'25. 

...  and  self-coiiiplHceure,  causes  of  dccW 

in  s|ii ritual  life,  iv.  459. 
Primitive  Chrisiianiiy  extended  not  beyond 

tlie  first  cenluiy,  ii.'3l8. 
Priftce  of  Peace^  a  title  of  Messiab,  iii.  94. 
Princes,  counsels  of,  overruled  by  God,  i. 

338. 
Principle*,  the  effect  of  Christian,  when  in- 
ly received,  ie.  625. 
Privilege  of  bcUevers  often  misundersteod,!. 

95. 
Procrastination,  dangerous,  iii.  97. 
Promisee, prophetical,  ii.  60. 
^.  testify  ol  Christ,  ii.  61. 
...  given  to  quicken  to  obedience,  iii.4i> 
Prophecies,  testily  of  Christ,  ii.60. 
...  general  style  of,  poetical,  iii.  34, 199.    ^^ 
...  difiiculties  of,  should  not  discourage,  lu* 

198. 
...  highly  figurative,  iit.  46. 
...  not  yet  fulfilled,  necessarily  obscure,  w- 

289. 
...  many  have  a  gradual  accomplisbneoi, »■• 

334. 
...  like  parables,  not  applicable  iu  tvttj  vr- 

nute  panicutar,  iv.  349. 
Propheu  describe  future  things  as  prsBeoi, 

iii.  28. 
...inimitable  sublimity  of, iii.  76. 
Prophetical  language,  figurative,  i 
Prosperity,  earthly,  a  suitable 

worldly  men,  i.  ^80. 
...  a  state  of  temptation,  i.  320. 
Ilfotf&WwXti^^tj^  explained,  ii.317. 
Protestant  Asbociation  alluded  lo. iv.SSS. 
Providence,  book  of,  recommended, i.  H- 
...  of  God,  on  trust  in,  i.  73. 
...  beautifully  described  by  a  line  of  Horace, 

i.286. 
...  dis^iensations  of,  compared  to  works  of  a 

watch,  i.  382. 
... difiideiieo  of,  unbecoming,!.  435. 
...  God*8  extends  to  the  minutest  concero?. 

iv.  395. 
...and  grace  of  God  watches  over  hw  peo- 
ple through  every  period  of  life—csncur 

in  bringing  his  people  to  a  knowtedge  "i 

themselves,  i.  8, 9, 
Pnideiice,  a  woni  much  abused,  i.  417. 
...  deficiency  of  Christian,  highly  incouvcfl- 

ient,i.503. 
PrudenSf  character  of, i.  228. 1  ... 

Psalms,  lK>ok  of,  distiintuished  by  magnHr- 

cence  and  variety,  iii.  34.  .    t      ,r 

Public,  the  best  way  of  serving  i«  by  our 

prfiyer!«,iv.351.  .      .. 

Public  Worship,  address  lo  those  who  w's*"' 

themselves  troni,  iv.  666.  .  j 

Punctuation  of  Scriptures  way  be  siaenaw, 

iii.  355.  ...  ,-» 

Puni.HlHnpnts,  for  what  end  inflicted,  i".  »*"• 
PuHtans,  servants  of  God,  under  that  «»»«• 

onre  treated  as  the  worst  of  licrcucs, 

263. 

Q. 
Ouaktii,  remark* on  the  doclriaeof,  iii-^' 
Qaeni/iM,  cbat^acter  of,  i.  ^- 


INDEX. 


91 1 


Bac^i  ChriMian's  life  (tompttred  to^  ii.  191. 
Rank,  elevated,  except  a»  condtiring  to  iiae* 

f4ilDe«s,  a  mibject  of  condolence,  i.  $86. 
ReH.son,  of  it«elf  incapable  of  as!<eiittug  to 

Revelalion,  i.  S&i. 
...  insufficiency  of,tii.463. 
KeHson«  wliv  Christ  not  rooner  manifested 

in  the  flesli,  ii.  253. 
....  for  buniiliuiion  *^d  praverfor  our  land,  i/ 

244. 
Reanonini^  spiril,  dangers  of  a,ir.  100. 
Recollection,  duty  ot,  i.  4iil. 
Recovery  from  illneiw,  letter  to  a  friend  ok. 

i.  230. 
...  only  a  reprieve,  i.  232. 
...  means  uf,  neen  in  peivon  and  sufleringB  of 

Christ,  ii.2G3. 
Redeemer,  necei«ity  of  bit  being  almighty, 

i.  '14iJ. 
...  mor«  endearing  title  than  that  of  Saviour, 

fii.306. 
...  un:iv4iling  to  believer  aniess appropriated, 

iii.  306. 
...  what  meant  by  «miKiingon  the  earth  at  the 

latter  dfiy,  iii.  310. 
Redeemed,  rang  of  (he,  iii.  370. 
...  tlin  life  the  time  of  rehearKil  of,  iii.  371. 
Re<iemption,  combination  of  alt  divine  |ier 

fecti^MiK  in  the  work  of,  iii.  26. 
...  the  greatesit  of  ail  Gmt'M  work*,  iii.  6QL 
...  excellency  of  the  divine  plan  of,  iti.  103, 

173,363. 
...  nature  of,  ilhiAtrqted,  iii.  371. 
...  act  ornaexHttipled  and  cxpeo«ive  love,  iii. 

373. 
...  extent  of  the  eOicncy  of,  iii.  118,  375. 
Refiner'8  fire,of  what  illif^tmtive,  iii.  66. 
Reformation,  doctrine*  of,  disreputable    in 

(iresent  day,  iii.  533. 
Rebellion,  awfai  case  of  those  who  die  in 

6nnl,  ii.  124. 
Regeneration,  hid  from  carnal  men,  ii.  89. 
...  constitutes  the  only  distinction  between  all 

mankind,  iii.  457. 
...  effects  produced  hy,  iii.  457. 
^..  marks  of,  iii.  457. 

JiehohoaMf  history  of,  considered,  iii.  300. 
Relative  affections,  on  the  snares  and  com< 

forts  of,  iv.  505. 
Relaxation,  necessity  of,  iii.  484. 
Religion  necessary  to  enjoyment  of  this  life, 

i.239. 

—  not  a  science  of  the  head,  i.  347. 
what  it  iii,  i.  575. 

-^  produces  couimuuion  with  and  coiifomiit}' 
to  God,  ii.  45. 

—  not  confined  to  devotional  acts,  bnt  a^H 
iiarent  is  common  businesses  of  life,  *"' 
570. 

—  of  Jesus,  proper  design  of,  to  wean  from 
the  world,  ii.  415. 

—  restrains  no  real  pleasure,  iv.  88. 

—  signs  of  true,  iv.  249. 
-^  liberty,  an<l  love,  the  greatest  blessings  of 

human  nature,  iv.  72. 

—  of  natiire,  most  valuable  sentiments  of, 
probably  derived  from  the  Bible,  iii.  487. 

Rqieotaocc^  atoning  Cor  disobedience,  an 


improper  expression,  i.  361 . 

—  death- bed  thoughts  on,  iii.  389. 
•—  unto  salvation,  h  hat,  i.  380. 
-^  unto  life  the  gift  of  God,  H.  176. 
Resignation,  Christian,  different  from  a  stdi- 

cal  stubbornness,  t.  453. 

-  remarkable  instance  of,  iv.  59. 
Rest  of  liel levers  in  Christ,  ii.  153. 
-^  Scripture  meaning  of,  iii.  123,  141. 

—  how  obtained,  ii.  158. 

—  future,  description  of»  ii.  156. 
Kesurrection  of   Christ,  the  grand  fact  da 

which  the  truth  of  Christianity  rests,  iii. 
206,313. 

—  esKential  to  our  hope  and  comfort,  iii.  313. 
evidences  of  stated,  iii.  314. 

—  unto  life  revealed  in  the  Old  Testament, 
iii  311. 

-no  iuiimalion  of,  from  the  light  of  nature, 
iii.  327. 
Revelation,  eharacteristic  simplicity  of,  iii. 
34. 

—  (to<rs  ^racions  design  in  giving,  iii.  221. 

—  truths  of,  not  all  equally  important,  iii.  218. 
— —  uninieliicible  till  taught  by  the    Holy 

Spirit,  iii.  327. 

-  book  of,  reflectioiis  on.  iii.  281, 290,  371, 

—  nature  of,  »nritunl,  ii.  102. 
-—  meiiiiinff  of,  ii.  103. 

—  spirliuaf,  described,  ii.  104. 

—  itpirifual,  progress  of,  ii.  104.  '^ 
— *~  always  agrees  with  Scripture,  ii.  106. 

—  —  to  whom  vouchsai'ed,  ii.  107. 
Reverend,  remarks  on  the  epithet,  i.  .593. 
Rhetoric,  rules  of,  almost  useless,  iii.  492. 
RircaUoUHf  Mr.  memorable  circumstances  in 

the  life  of,  iv.484. 
Rich  and  great  why  reject  the  Gospel,  iii.  87. 
Ri<'h  man,  |Mrable  of,  considered,  iii.  330. 
Riehteotitf,  in  what  sense  scarcely  saved,  i. 

27.3. 

—  who  they  are,  iv.  180. 
Ri«!hteou«ness  of  Christ,  our  all  in  all,  i.264« 

—  given  by  Christ  Ji.  127. 

—  the  fruit  of,  w.  276.    , 

—  and  sauctincatioa  not  synonymous  tenes, 
iii.  461. 

—  iropnted.    See  Jastification. 

Roberlmmf  Dr.  bis  History  of  Charles  V.  de- 
fective, i.  307.— on  what  passages  of  Scrip* 
ture,  a  comment,  337. 

Roman  emperor,  orator's  compliment  to  a^ 
just  if  a|)plied  to  Christ,  iii.  140. 

—*  emperors,  submissiou  of  primitive  Cbrt»- 
tiansto,iii.267. 

— *  einpire,  extent  of,  favourable  to  the  spread 
of  Christianity,  iii.  40, 80,  289. 

Romania  chnrscter  of,  ii.  253. 

—  cnielty  of  the,  ii.  254. 

—  why  styled  Christ  king  of  the  Jews,  iii. 
181. 

—  God's  instruments  to  punish  the  Jews,  iii- 
280. 

Rome,  rhurch  of,   prolnbly  contaiM  aone 

true  Christians,  iii.  417. 

Sec  Church  and  Poperj. 
Rubric  and  litaray,  expediency  of  iii.  404* 

ofnie  young  ceoskicredy  ui. 


Ruler,  sterv 
150. 


ei» 


U9BBX. 


Ridhtrfordt  Mr.  rMiark«bl«  •zprMuoo  of.  i. 

s. 

Saeniaentof  Lord's  Sapp«r,  two  different 

errora  cooceroing, iv.  111. 
Sacranent   morning,   suiiable   •ubjvct  for 

meditation  on,  iv.  417. 
Sacri6ce«  derived  from  revelation,  ii.  260. 
«^  Mesnuh  prefigured  by,  iii.  28. 

—  could  not  eleanse  the  conscience,  iii.  144. 
—early  instiiation  of,  ionr  indicated  the  need 

ofan  atonement,  iii.  144. 
Sadducut  described,  ii.  1273. 
Siifety  in  all  cases  the  effect  of  God's  good- 

nessy  ir.  385. 
Salvatx>n,  secorily  and  certainty  of  Gospel 

plan  of,  ii.  34. 
>—  certainty  of  (Sospel  plai\  of,  appears  from 

gift  of  Christ,  ii.dO. 
^  suitableness  of  Gojipel  way  of,  iv.  352, 327, 

—  awful  consequences  of  neglectinK,  ii-  ^» 

—  wholly  of  grace,  i.268,  iii.  32, 151, 350. 

—  end  and  means  of,  iii.  33. 
>—  freedom  and  fuloem  of,  iii.  33. 

—  sanetificacion  an  essential  part  of,  iii.  64. 

—  gloiy  of  God*s  goodness  manifemed  in,  iii 
103, 145. 

Saints,  miscarriages  of,  land-marks  to  waru 

us,  1.431. 
•—a  sweet,  diough  mysterious  communion 

of,  i.  462, 

—  death  of^precious  in  the   sight  of  the 
Lord,  i.  572;. 
See  Believers. 

Sanctification,  the  certain  concomitant  of  a 

good  hope,  iii.  309. 
«-  greater  measures  should  be  longed  after, 

iv.254. 
*»  not  cause  bat  effect  of  acceptance,  iii. 

465. 
-i*not  synonymous  wtth  righteousness^  iii 

461. 

—  ourfi,  the  will  of  God,  iii.  350. 

—  inseparably  ronnected  with  justification, 
iii.  465~yet  distinct,  467. 

—  SapphiraU  awful  death,  ii.  303. 
*—  Saawi  and  Hagttrj  thr  history  of,  a  design- 
ed allegory,  iii.  192,  445. 

SaUMf  his  warfare  with  us,  i.  264. 
-•  has  overturned  many  a  fair  professor,  i. 
273. 

—  some  against  whom  he  cannot  prevail,  i. 
273. 

—  always  near  when  the  heart  is  disposed 
to  receive  him,  i.  298. 

—  bis  temptation  of  men  illustrated,  i.  321. 
-—  the  variety  of  his  devices  and  efforts,  i. 

399,433,426. 
•— despoiled  of  his  dominion,  iii.  214,  217, 
387 

—  works  powerfully  on  our  unbelief^  iii.  313. 
•••  incessAtttly  persecutes  believers,  iii.  352. 
'-  the  god  or  this  world,  iii.  352. 
--  lyraaaisf  s  over  the  children  of  diaobedi> 

ence,  iii.  373. 
...  works  of,  described,  iv.  283. 
...  advantages  over  believers  often  gained 

immediately  after  favours  eoafened  upon 

.them,  iv.  354. 


Satan,  a  watchful  enemy,  iv.  364. 
Sat^umr^  a  two-fold  necessity  for  one,  i.  SM. 

—  and  bis  salvation,  aermon  oathe,  ii.  26. 

•  need  all  nations  bad  of  a,  iii.  46. 
See  Jesus  and  Redeemer. 

Saul  liegins  to  make  havoc  of  church,  ii.  307. 
—journeys  to  Dumaacus  to  persecute  ihs 
church,  ii.  310. 

—  niiraculouikly  converted,  ii.  310. 
.-  begins  to  preach  the  Gospel,  ii.  310. 

S«e  Faul. 
Scfptiat,  credulity  of,  iii.  202. 
Sclioiars  and  critics  unable  to  interpret  Scrip* 

ture  without  the  Holy  Spirit's  aid,  iii.  4J7. 
Science,  dangerous  lendeocy  of,ii.  99 

—  distinct  Tram  heavenly  wisdom,  ii.  9i. 

—  human,  iuai|j;nificaiit  compared  to  spirituil 
knowledge,  iii.  138. 

Scorn,  unbecoming  in  the  foUowenofJeufi, 

i.439. 
Scriptures,  study  of  original,  reconneodsil, 

1.79. 
Scripture,  excellency  of,  i.  268. 

—  how  to  be  read,i.  318. 

—  truths  of,  not  like  wathematioal  tbcoren^ 
i.347. 

-  duty  of  attending  to,  1.431, 476. 

•  the  subject  of  a  Gospel  minwiiy,  i.  440. 
•«•  comparing  one  passage  with  anotlteris 

depeudance  on  toe  Holy  Spirit,  the  best 
mean  of  attaining  the  sense,  i.  481 

-  how  application  of  shook!  be  fenlttcd 
when  it  seems  to  countenance  our  eeagai, 
i.  516. 

» inspiration  of,  best  nroied  by  eiperiesee, 
ii.  153. 

-  on  searching  the,  ii.  55, 76.     ,     ,. 

-  manner  in  which  testify  of  Christ,  ij.wj. 
••  import  of  their  teiMimouy  to  ChriMi,ii.  61 

-  requisites  before  we  can  nndersiaad,  n- 
54,67. 

••  how  they  ouaht  to  be  read,  ii.64. 
•>  what  sbouU  lie  our  coadoci  if  ve  bstistet 
iii.  63. 

—  Jews  conrtanil^  prove  their  troth,  iii.47. 

—  the  grand  experimental  evidence  of,iii J*. 

—  their  own  bent  interpreters,  iii.  205. 

—  testify  of  Christ,  iii.  212,  219. 

—  constant  perusal  of,  prescribed  by  CmW) 
iii.  224. 

—  prculiar  sublimity  of,  iii.  275. 

—  given  bv  ias|>iration,  iii.  354. 

—  corrections  of  texts  of,  require  caBtioB,ui- 
354.  _,      ... 

^  study  of,  increases  divine  knowledge,  w- 

^^'  . .       r*. 

'  ran  only  he  widerstood  by  teaching  «»« 

Holy  Spirit,  iii.  438. 
fka-fanng  life,  advantages  of,  i.  5S.    . 
Searching  the  Scriptures,  Sermon  on,  i.^^- 
Secret  of  the  Lord,  one  branch  of,  »*•  w^ 
Stlden,  the  great,  remarkable  dectaiatw*  «, 

iii.  442. 
Self,  the  corrupt  principle  of,  wr  a  sssiosi 

the  principle  of  our  conduct,  i.  277.  ^ 

—  finds  something  whereof  to  gloiy  i»  »* 
meanest  characters,  i.  279.     ^    .       ^ 

^  believer's  perplexities  arise  fnun  «  »' 
due  attachment  to»  i.  tOi 


INDEX. 


613 


3e(r  the  goveniiiij?  principle  of  great  men  and 

conqaeroni,  i.  3SS. 
^  the  ooiveraal  idol,  339. 
-^  can  transform  itself  into  an  angel  of  light, 

iv.  318. 

—  ri^hteoosnets.    See  Moralist. 

—  will,  of  what  a  chief  source,  iii.  148. 
Stnnacherib,  an  instrument  in  God's  bands, 

iii.  39, 300. 
Senses,  the  human,  not  alwavs  criteria  of  tba 

existence  of  things,  iii.  106. 
Sensibility  valuable  when  rightly  exercised, 

i.  448, 453. 
Ser^iut  Pmubu  cottverted,  ii.  StS. 
Senoos  spirit  advantageous,  iv.  85. 
Serxons,  it.  16. 

—  Oceational  and  Charity,  iii.  616,  iv.  610. 

—  on  hearinf^,  i.  126. 
«->  very  long,  improper,  i.  647. 
Serpent,  brazen,  i.  366, 432. 
Severity  of  God,  ii.  46. 
Shadrarh,  &tc.  inntances  of  divine  protection, 

iii.  353. 
SfubOf  queen  of^  visit  to  Solomon,  iii.  381. 
Sheep,  descripbve  of  believers,  iii.  1S2,  iv. 

—  sinners  compared  to  wandering,  iii.  173. 
Shepherd,  a  character  of  MessitUi,  ilt.  121, 

m,  173, 176,  217. 

«-  the  good,  affords  strength  equal  to  our 
day,  iv.  415. 

Ship,  reflections  on  the  launching  of  a,  iv.396 

Sickness,  author's  reflections  in,  iv.  106. 

— -  a  mercy  as  well  as  health,  iv.  272. 

Silas  nod  Jiutus  accompaoy  Barnabas  and 
Paul  to  Antioch,  ii.  330.    See  Paul. 

Siloamf  pool  of,  efficacious  only  as  a  means 
appointed  by  God,  i.  473. 

Simon  MaguSj  exhorted  by  Peter  to  repent- 
ance and  prayer,  i.  473. 

^— DTobable  founder  of  sect  of  Gnostics,  ii 

Simooyi  whence  the  term  derived,  ii.  308. 
Simplicity  and  godly  sincerity,  i.  176. 
Sin  a  buraen  to  the  true  believer,  i.  106. 
-^  the  sickness  of  che  soul,  i.  650,  559. 

—  evil  of,  appears  in  gift  of  Christ,  ii.  48. 
Sin,  just  desert  of,  cannot  be  received  in  this 

life,  iii.  31. 

—  hasproduced  alteration  in  state  of  things, 

—  fills  the  worid  with  wo,  iii,  73, 177. 


Sin,  greatness  of  a  reason  why  we  should 

come  to  Christ,  ii.  1 12. 
— ^  preservation  from  a  special  oiercy,  iv.253. 

—  question  whether  God  the  autlior  of,  i.  374. 
•—  bow  effected,  iv.  253. 

—  indwelling,  effects  of,  must  be  felt,  iv. 
256. 

Sincerity,  plea  of,  will  not  exempt  from  dan* 
ger  of  ignorance  and  obstinacy,  i.  356. 

— •  necessary  to  understand  Scriptures,  ii.  66. 
•  not  conversion,  though  a  forerunner  of,  i. 
3W. 


Sii 


—  did  not  deprive  Adam  of  reason,  but  of  '^  numbers  annually  exported,  iv.  546. 


spirituality,  i.  355. 

—  the  source  of  all  evils,  iv.  400. 

—  infatuating  effects  of,  iii.  55, 277. 
--atl  mankind  under  the  power  of,  iii.  173. 

—  what  evinces  its  exceeding  sinfulness,  iii. 
177. 

—  its  extreme  malignity  bot  4ittle  known  to 
mankind,  iii.  187. 

—  its  effect  and  wages,  death,  iii.  320. 
«-*  future  panbbment  of,  twofold,  ii-  48. 
-*-  foff;iveness  of,  incompatible  with  God's 

justice,  iii.  144. 
-i-  subdued  by  grace,  iii.  146. 

—  where  it  has  abounded,  grace  has  more 
abounded,  iii.  175, 333. 


ingolarity. 


,  necessity  of  a  certain  kind  of,  i. 


and  painful  apprehension  of, 
rioced  of  guilt,  iii.  29,  37, 132, 


Sinner,  entenive  meaning  of  the  teim,  iv. 

387. 
Sinners,  condition  of,  ii.  30. 

—  address  to,  ii.  131. 
Sinner,  new  and  ^ 

when  coovin 
136. 

—  degree  and  duration  of  his  distrcM  uncer- 
tain, iiL  29. 

—  to  what  compared  without  the  Gospel,  iii. 
88. 

^-  insen>>ibility  of,  a  grief  to  Christ  when  on 

earth,  iii.  150. 
Sinners  under  the  curse  of  the  law,  iii.  167. 

—  conversion  of  one  of  greater  importance, 
than  the  temporal  deliverance  of  a  king- 
dom, i.  307,  iii.  171. 

^  compared  to  wandering  sheep,  iii.  171. 

—  crucify  Christ  afresh,  t.  603.      < 

—  made  willing  in  the  day  of  his  power,  iii. 
236. 

—  how  described  in  Scripture,  iii.  236. 

•  deplorable  state  of  those  whadie  in  their 
sins,  iii.  338. 

•  dangerous  case  of  those  who  take  encour- 
agement, from  Gospel  to  go  on  in  sin,  iii. 
358.  --r-       •  » 

—  Gospel  a  dispensation  for,  i.  278. 

—  why  unwilling  to  be  converted,  i.  307. 

—  difterence  between  holiness  of,  and  diat 
of  angels,  i.  465. 

^-  roost  perish  unless  they  repent,  iii.  540. 

—  labouring  aad  heavy  laden  described,  ii. 
139. 

Sins  of  believers,  whether  made  known  lo 

others,  i.  82.    * 
Slave  coast,  description  of,  iv.  534. 
Slaves,  manner  of  acquiring,  iv.  544. 


— chaigad  upon  Christ  as  cor  rare^T;  iii .  172.1    ef,  iv.  605. 


—  mortality  they  are  subject  to  on  their  voy- 
age, iv.  647. 

^  manner  in  which  the  survivors  are  dispos- 
ed ol^  iv.  548. 
Slave  Trade,  thoughts  upon  the,  iv.  531 . 

—  not  properly  a  national  sin.  iii.  606. 

—  destructive  to  our  seamen  8  kealtb  and 
morals,  iv.  536, 537. 

Smiih,  Dr.  select  discourses  of,  quoted,  iii. 

439. 
Sinugsled   goods,  purchasing  of,  unlawful. 

Smugglings  contrary  to  the  word  of  God,  i. 

Social  affections,  on  the  snares  and  comforts 


614 


INDEX. 


SorintaDs  should  be  treated  iiiih  candour*  i 
214. 

—  employ  critical  wpliistry  a(|[aini(t  texth 
which  declare  Christ's  characier,j.2!^. 

*->  would  subscribe  xcriptural  declarations,  if 
allowed  to  put  their  own  tense  upon,  i.  344. 

Sociiiianifm  adanf^erous  error,  i.  349. 

Socratti  felt  (he  ncccsbttv  uf  a  di%ine  teach- 
er,  ill.  45.  « 

—  predicted  tite  reception  of  a  perfect  char- 
acter, iiL  131 . 

Soldiers,  motives  which   should   influence 

Cb risttans  as  sue h,  i v .  30 1 . 
Solomon,  in  what  the  glory  of  consisted,  iti. 

215.         ; 

-^  annj;  of,  describes  experience    of  the 

church,  i.  418. 
Son  of  David,  a  title  of  Christ,  iii.  47. 

—  of  God,  a  title  of  Chri<:i,  iii.  Id3,  218. 

ScriiHure  sense  of  (hat  titlo,- iii.  221, 

123. 
Sons  of  God.  future  manifestation  of  the  lib' 

erty  of,  i.  198. 
Sorrow  of  believer,  better  than  the  mtrlh  of 

sinners,  iv.  279. 
Sortes  VJrf  iliana*,  neanin!{  of,  i.  194. 
Soul,  various  significations  of,  iii.  205. 
Souls,  inestimable  value  cf,  i.  307. 
— —  seen  in  gift  of  ChriiX,  ii.  48. 
Sovereignty, divine, composes  nilnd,  ii.84. 

—  of  divine  grace  asiterted  and  illustrated,  ii 
lift -116. 

Sower^  parable  of  the,  an  epitome  of  eccle- 
siaslicil  history,  ii.  422. 

S[ieaking,  public,  fir^t  eflbrts  in,  should  not 
be  on  rebgioiis  subjects,  iii  49  i. 

Spiritf  Hoiif,  cause  of  rapid  success  of  the 
Gospel,  ii.  385. 

— —  effects  produced  by  outpouring  of,  im- 
mediate, ii.  299. 

-— —  teaching  of,  suited  to  all  capacities,  iv. 
442. 

—  grieving  of,  prevents  assurance,  ii.  236. 
See  Holy  Spirit. 

Spirit,  a  broken  and  contrite,  pleasimr  to 
Go«l,i.274. 

—  difficulty  of  maintaining  a  right  frame  of, 
iv.  315. 

Spiritiml  life,  on  tho  causes,  symptoms,  and 

effects  of  a  (icclioe  in,  iv.  458. 
Stephen  np|)oinied  deacon,  ti.  30%, 

—  coura?^ous  condurt  of,  ii.  30rt. 

—  experiences  divine  consolations,  ii.  306* 
iii.  aV2. 

—  violent  death,  and  prayci*  for  hisencmirs, 
ii.907. 

S(i)!rs  and  npienreans  described,  iv,  96. 
Sioiiy  ground  lioarers,  examples  of,  iv.4j0. 
Siorin  at  sea,  descrtpiion  of,  iv.  53. 
Strength  giwn  by  Christ,  ii.  127. 
Student  in  d4\inily,  letter  to  a,  i.  77. 
i!>(iidenis  exteii.sivc  acquaintance  ensnaring 

to,  iii  483. 
Stiidids,  w  hat,  im|iortant  for  the  ministry,  iii. 

43,"). 
Submission  to  God,  a  manifestation  of  the 

believer  s  love,  i.  3:28. 
SuiTerings,  why  our  own  are  more  siipporta* 

bl«*  than  (hiTsc  of  the  persons  we  love,  i. 

449. 


Sufferings,  the  grentness  of,  bow  ta  be  sMi* 
mated,  iii.  185. 

-  no  ground  uf  c-oioparismi  between  4ko«e 
of  present  life  ami  lb«  glory  abaat  •»  be 
revealed,  iii.  446. 

-  of  ChriM,  wh^  endured,  ii.  32. 
.^»  ronfemplation  on,  iv.  441. 
Suity,  duke  ol,  his  charaeter,  i.  280. 
— —  reflections  ou  bis  history,  i.  281. 
Son,  Chrint  compared  to,  iv.  382. 

"  of  righteousness,  |irenence  of,  the  sourre 

of  all  i>ur  haijptnesa  and  coosolalioa,  iv. 

349. 
Sunday,  author^s  manner  of  apeoding  at  sea, 

iv.  116. 
SuBca-lapaarian  and  aub-lapaartaa  scheiae, 

difference  between,  i.  512. 
Swearing,  a  natiuinil  sin,  iii.  C23. 
Sympathy  with  suffering  (hendd  lawrul,ir- 

274. 

—  wonderful  effects  of,  iv.  435. 

T. 
Tocihts*  account  of  Nero's  perseeotios  of 

the  Christians,  ii.  375. 
Talents  valuable  if  enabled  lo  improva  iheai 

for  Christ,  i.30i. 
Ta!<te,  defittitiun  of,  i.  316. 

—  the  refined,  ol  manv,  hinders  Uieir  profil- 
ing by  tliegos|M'l,  i.  ^16. 

—  a  spiritual,  defined,  i.  319. 

Tares,  |)arable  of,  shows  iiilluence  of  Satan 

in  perverting  the  Gos|iel,  ii.  422. 
Teachable  disposition,  an  evidence  of  God  « 

work,  iii.  437. 
Teacher,  heathens  felt  necessity  of  a  divioe, 

iii.  46. 
Teachers,  human,  defects  of,  iii.  139. 
Temple,  the  superior  glory  of  the  secoad, 

predicted,  iii.  44. 
-^second  filled  with  Christ's  glory,  iii. 4/. 

—  destruction  of,  predicted,  iii.  47. 

—  mystical,  what,  iii.  47. 
Temptation, on,  1. 131. 

meaning  of  tho  word,  i.  320. 
T«npta(ions,  our  greatest,  usually  foaad  ■• 
lawful  things,  i.  ^,  329. 

—  general  clashes  of,  ii.  143. 

—  compared  to  (he  wind,  i.  426. 

—  variety  of  Satan's,  i.  399,  4A  4^. 

—  appointed  for  allOnd's  People,  iu.4W- 

—  consoling  considerations  under,  iv.  XU. 

—  complaints  of,  a  good  sign,  iv.  3<il. 

—  often  the  mout  violent  after  having  o<'WH 
honourably  in  different  circurosiaiices,  tv. 
429. 

7ert»i/ian'«  account  of  the  extent  of  Ncro» 
persecution,  ii.  375.  ..  «^ 

Tertuilus  accuses  Paul  liefore  Felix, ".  W 

Test  and  corporation  acts  prodiice  coni»«r 
tuous  profnuation  of  the  body  aad  l*»u 
of  Christ,  iii.  531.  j 

Testament,  Old,  contains  propbec«»  »" 
types  of  Christ,  ii.  CO.  r  •    «i 

Thankfulness,  abijndant  causes  of,  iv.  ^r. 

Thanksgiving  h>-mn  for  king's  recovery,  »• 

Theological  MiscdUottf,  p»pcr»  «*'**^ 
from,  iv.  411. 


IMDEX. 


6^5 


Theology,  Cj)i8tlc«  of  St.  Ptiul  the  best  sam- 

niary  of,  iii.486. 
ThattUenkmSf  Episiles  to  the,  abound  with 

alTectiooiite  expreMoiis,  ii.  391. 
Thief  oil  the  croan,  illuMrious  iDsiance  of  di* 

vine  grace,  i.  456. 

—  caHO  of,  iii.  40,  182, 196. 

—  H  witne»of  Cbriitt's  innocence,  tii.  200. 
Thigh  an  emblem  of  power,  iii.  298. 
Thine  boly  one,  expression  exphuaed,  iii. 

20$. 
Things  lawful,  our  greatest  temptations  U8u- 

aiiy  found  iu,  i.  323,  329. 
— —  why  we  ought  to  abstain  from  many,  i. 

333. 
Things   neceasaiy   to   be  believed,  i.  408. 

See  Ddcirinen. 
Third  commandment,  extent  and  sanction 

of,  ii.  183. 

forbids  every  kind  of  expletive,  ii.  187 

Thomat,  inoreduliiy  uf,  iii.  314. 

Thoughts,  evil,  may  intrude  into  the  mind 

without  guilt,  if  not  indulged,  i.  424,  iv, 

SCO. 
Throne  of  grace,  believers  should  resort  to, 

under  every  trial,  iv.  307. 
TV^rtiM,  detestable  character  of,  iii.  266. 
Time,  value  of,  i.  334. 

—  wlmt  necessary  to  be  employed  in  pre- 
paring for  the  minisiry,  iii.  495. 

-*-  manner  of  author's  employing  his,  during 

n  voyage,  iv.  78. 
Time-serving  in  minisleii  implies  want  of 

wisdom,  iii.  672. 
Timothtjf  ckioeen  for  FauVs  companion,  ii. 

332. 
Titiu  destroys  Jerusalem,  ii.  376. 
Tongue,  thoughts  on  the  government  of,  iv. 

—  what  meant  by  bridling,  iv.  444. 
TrajiOi  orders  Christians  to  be  put  to  deatli, 

ii.  378. 
— >  comlemns  Ignatius,  ii.  378. 
•—  traiMlatiun  of  and  remarks  on  Pliny *s  let- 
ter to,  iv.  447. 
Tranaligunition,  re0eclions  on,  iii.  165. 
Trees,  believers  compared  to,  rv.  269. 
Trials,    the   greatness  of,  to  lje  eMimated 

rather  by  the  impreswon  they  make  upon 

ns,  tlian  by  their  outwuitl  appearance,  i. 

383. 
•^  the  necessity  that  oor  sbar|)e»t  trials  bhuuld 

sometimes  fiuriug  from  our  dearest  com- 

forts,  i.  403. 
Trials,  reason  why  God  inflicts  so  many  on 

his  peo|>le,  ii.  367. 
«-  conMderati»na  which  should  8up|K>rt  us 

under,  iv.  232. 
-i^  effects  of,  compared  with  those  of  the 

wind  u})on  trees,  iv.  269. 

—  new,  needful  to  the  end  of  life,  iii.  451. 
-^  should  be  felt,  i v.  324. 

->the    sharpest,    often    spring    from    oi 

choicest  comforts,  iv.  610. 
-—the     heaviest,    rendered    toleruble    by 

Christ's  assistance,  iv.  423. 
Trinity,  tliouehtson  the  doctrine  of,  iv.  478. 

—  doctrine  of,  necessary  to  salvation,  i.  343, 
—*  not  a  mere  proposition,  but  a  principle,  i. 

351* 


Trinity,  scriptural  arguments,  for,  \.  441, 41<^ 
ii.  121. 

—  experience  a  proof  of  its  truth,  i.  444. 

—  incomprehensible,  tii.  221. 

—  unquestionably  taught  iu  Scripture,  iii. 
393. 

Tropic,  ceremonies  at  crossing,  iv.  63. 
Trouble,  letter  to  a  friend  in,  iv.  441 . 
Troubles  necessary  and  useful,  iv.  27£. 

—  considerations  calculated  to  comiiose  us 
under,  iv.  248. 

True  religion  founded  in  knowledge  of  God. 

ii.  1C2. 
Trust  in  God,  letter  on,  i.  73. 
i'rumpet,  the  last,  by  what  illustrated,  iii. 

330. 
Truth,  must  be  the  object  of  faith,  i.  Si3. 

doctrinal,  of  uu  value,  further  thai)   it 

tends  to  promote  practical  holineae,  i.  407. 
^-of  our  religious  principles,  plainly  disi'.ern- 

ed>y  their  effects  in  prusjieritv,  iv.  470. 
Truths,  some  fundamental,  tii.  218,247. 

—  others  secondar\',  iii.  218. 

Tutor,  rtharacter  and  qualifications  of  one 
for  an  academy  of  ministers,  iii.  474. 

Types  of  Christ,  twofold,  personal  and  rela- 
tive, ii.  6:^. 

—  concealed,  while  they  shadowed  forth 
Christ,  iii.  30. 

—  of  liui  crucifixioB,  what,  iii.  168. 

U.    V. 
Vail  of  temple  rent,  what  it  signifies,  iii.  47. 
Valley, an  emblem  of  n  low  condition,  iii.  4Ct 
Vengeance  of  God  on  ancient  pinners,  iii. 

Vetdrt^  marriage  ceremon^r  Ifctweeo  the  re- 
IMiblic  of,  and  the  Adriatic  sea,  L  514. 

—  author's  voyage  to,  and  dream  at,  i.  18. 
Vigil's  LdUrs,  i.  190. 

VirkiVa  Pollio,  expresses  sense  of  prophecies 
of  Messiah,  |ii.  45. 

—  rtrllectious  on,  iii.  45. 

—  quoted,  iii.  122. 

Virtue,  Christian,  the  effect  of  a  netv  nature. 

i.376.  ' 

See  firutus. 
Visiting,  renuiTks  on,  iv.  336. 
Vitnnga's  traostotion  of  a  passage  in  Ibaiah^ 

iii.  84. 
Unbelief,  steals  upon,  under  a  semblance  of 

humility,  i.  556. 

—  fatal  effects  of,  to  be  commiserated,  iii. 
202. 

—  a  canse  of  distreni,  iii.  325. 

—  removes  the  seuse  of  Christ's  presence. 
iv.305.  ^ 

Unbelievers,  deplorable  state  of,  lit.  90. 
Unconverted,  propriety  of  miiiisterlul  address 

to,  i.  98. 
Union  with  Christ,  t.  191. 
UnUas  Frttinan.    See  Moravians. 
Uiiiverwil  chorus,  iii.  38J. 
Univerjf^d  restitution,  doctrine  of,  false  and 

pernicious,  iii.  333. 
Vociteruiion,  (he  effect  of  a  bad  hnbit^  no 

mark  of  powerful  preaching,  iv.  457. 
VolcUiHSf  character  of,  i.  223. 
Voiiairtf  scofl»  at  idea  of  doing  all  to  tkts 

glory  of  God,  i.  264. 


6t6 


INDEX. 


PoUaire,  the  amanueoftis  of  Satan,  i.  298.      I  Worid,  state  of,  at  Messiah's  advene,  iti.  ST. 
—  had  better  been  born  aa  idiot  or  luoatic,!—  a  wilderoess  ia  the  awakeoed  sinner's  es- 

i.  299, 310.  timatiooi  iii.  37. 

-^  a  monster  of  profaneness,  i.  602.  —  revolutions  of,  sabsenre  God's  will,  iii.  S8. 


UsefolnesB,  prospect  of,  greater  in  the  church 
than  among  Dissenters,  iii.  43S. 

Utopian  dissenter,  sentiments  of,  on  church 
government,  iii.  477. 

——on  methodists or  itinerants,  iii.  479. 

Uttermost,  meaning  of,  iv.  323. 

W. 

Walking  closely  with  God,  directions  for, 

430. 
Wfilkinj^  with  God,  not  hindered  bv  proper 

attention  to  worldly  duties  and  calling,  iv, 

269.  ** 

Walking  with  Jesas  tllastrated.  iv.  271. 
War,  cultivated  an  a. science,  iii.  296. 
Warfare,  Scripture  sense  of  the  word,  iii.  37. 
Watchfulness,  necessity  of,  i.  325. 
—  productive  of  comfort,  iii.  236. 
Watts'  Logic  recommended,  iii.  491. 
...  and  Witberspoon,  recommended  as  modeb 

to  writers  in  divinity,  iii.  493. 
WhUfdd,  Mr.  r<^erred  to,  iv.  338. 
...sermons,  by  Gurnev,  characterised,   iv, 

289. 
Wife,  letters  to  a,  iv.  15. 
^..  directions  tp  a  minister  for  the  choice  of 

a,i.617. 
...  advice  to  a  friend  in  choosing,  iv.  307. 
Will,  the  want  of,a  wantof  power,  iii.  150. 
Wisdom,  the  best,  sermon  on,  iii.  566. 
Wisdom,  means  of  attaining,  i.  78. 
...  all  the  characteristics  of,  exempli6ed  in 

the  faithful  minister,  iii.  662. 
...  man's,  how  renounced  by  St.  Paul,  ii.  404. 
...  of  God,  seen  in  cross,  ii.  134. 
...  worldly,  opposite  to  ai vine,  ii.  96. 
...  heavenly,  in  what  it  consists,  i.  417. 
Wise  and  prudent,  character  of,  in  sight  of 

the  world,  ii.  97. 
ITo^c,  general,  death  of,  iii.  345, 383,  iv.  328. 
Woman  that  anointed  Christ's  feet,  case  of, 

iii.  40. 
Women  of  Israel,  how  they  celebrated  good 

news,  iii.  69. 
Wodnotk,  St.  Mary,  author's  first  sermon  at, 

iii.  517. 
— ^»  token  of  respect  to  parishioners  of,  iv. 

565. 
Wonder/ulf  a  title  of  Christ,  iii.  93. 
Word  of  Grod,  a  history  of  the  heart  of  man, 

the  devices  of  Satan,  the  state    of  the 

world,  and  the  methods  of  grace,  i.  504. 

—  the  tvell  of  salvation,  i.  666. 
—<  irresistible  power  of,  iii  42. 
-— <—  in  what  respects  beauties  of,  compared 

to  those  of  creation,  iii.  370. 

the  believer's  food,  i.  263. 

——directs  and  animates  to  a  growth  in 

grace,  i.  264. 

compared  to  a  mirror,  i.  281. 

WonI  in  seB.son,  i.  242. 

Word  toprofessors  in  trade,  i.  246. 

World,  Qod's  principal  end  ia  preserving,  i 

307. 

—  votaries  of,  objects  of  compaasioa,  and 
compared  to  lunatics,  iii.  33. 


—  deplorable  state  of,  in  eooseqnencs  of  the 
fall,  iii.  73. 

— a  school  to  the  disciples  of  Christy  iii.  139. 

—  insufficienry  of  the  happiness  of,  tii.  349. 

—  the  invisible  full  of  great  realities,  iii.  100. 
Worldly  duties  and  cmiing,  no  proper  hin- 
drance to  walking  with  God,  iv.  269. 

Worldly  men,  character  of,  i.414. 

—  blind  to  the  consolations  in  Christ,!,^ 

—  address  to,  iii.  131. 

— — >  wretched  state  of,  iii.  134. 

—  spirit  should  be  feared,  ii.  100. 
Wonhip,  spiritual,  true  nature  of,iii.39S- 


Tear,  reflections  oa  entering  upon  a  new,  iv 

356. 
Yoke  of  Christ,  sermon  on,  ii.  160. 

—  described,  ii.  161. 

—  blessedness  of,  ii.  164. 

—  easy,  from  considerations  of  the  re 
ward.  li.  170. 

seldom  pleasant  at  the  6r»t,  ii.  1*72. 

not  witlfout  trials,  ii.  172. 

Youngeonverts,overdoingsof,  more  accept- 
able to  God  Chan  tbeu-  bubsequcDt  cold 
correctness,  i.  77. 

characteristics  of,  i.  259.— defects  of,  \. 

260.— first  bright  moments  of,  bow  recov- 
ered, i.  261. 

—  a|tt  too  much  to  neglect  temporal  bust* 
ness,  ii.  179. 

prone  to  neglect  the  affairs  of  cobbwii 

life,  ii.  417. 

—  discouragements  of,  iii.  126- 
injudicious  zeal  of,  iii.  351. 

—  weakness  of,  not  sufficiently  attesded 
to  by  human  teachers,  iii.  356. 

—  comfortable  perceptions  of  jnstUicaliou, 
usually  weak,  iii.  361. 

—  often  favoured  with  comfortable  us- 
pressions,  iv.  496.  , 

Young,  Dr.  author's  interview  with,  iv.  W- 
Yoang  lady,  verses  to  a,  on  herbirth-dsy,!^' 

476. 
Toung  men,  choice  of  those  intended  for  swn- 

istry,iii.  481.  . 

Young  minister,  letter  to,  on  preacbiog  tbe 

Gospel  with  power,  iv.  454. 
Toung  people  compared  to  Lambs, hh  1». 
Youngperson,letter  toa.iv.  381.       ,      ^ 
Young  persons,  why  so  seldom  serious,  «v.4U- 

—  important  directions  to,  iv.383,  388,  W 
391,392,411. 

Toung  woman,  letter  to  a,  iv.  483. 

2-  ..-OS 

Zeal,  angrjT)  unbecoming  the  Chri«tiaB,«^ 

—  distinction  between  true  and  false,  m.4W. 
Zeal  and  love,  characterize  young  coavcriS: 

i.369. 
Zealous  young  men,  suitable  advice  to,  i^- 

Zaehmiahj  mia^on  of,  lo  the  Jews,  >v.  31,^ 

—  bis  vision  of  Joshua  the  high-priesl.  luJW- 
Zuiii,  an  emUem  of  the  church  of  God,iiLlW. 


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