west is no distance,-is vicinity and cohesion. I dare not, either in prose or verse, allow myself to express a frame of mind which I am conscious does not belong to me; least of all can I venture to use the language of absolute resignation, lest only counterfeiting, I should for that very reason be taken strictly at my word, and lose all my remaining comfort. Can there not be found among those translations of Madame Guyon somewhat that might serve the purpose? I should think there might. Submission to the will of Christ, my memory tells me, is a theme that pervades them all. If so, your request is performed already; and if any alteration in them should be necessary, I will with all my heart make it. I have no objection to giving the graces of the foreigner an English dress, but insuperable ones to all false pretences and affected exhibitions of what I do not feel."

In the ensuing year, Mr. Bean found him in a happier mood, and obtained from him a hymn to be sung by the children of the Olney Sunday school; at a time when Cowper said "he was somewhat in the case of lawyer Dowling in Tom Jones, and could he split himself into as many poets as there are Muses, could have found employment for them all." Encouraged, perhaps, by this, Mr. Newton asked him to translate for publication, a series of letters, which he had received from a Dutch clergyman at the Cape of Good Hope. Though so much additional occupation came inconveniently when he had little time to spare from his Homer, Cowper could not refuse this to Mr. Newton"; and he had no objection to being known as the 71 To Mrs. King, June 14, 1790.

translator; "rather," said he, "I am ambitious of it as an honour. It will serve to prove, that if I have spent much time to little purpose, in the translation of Homer, some small portion of my time has, however, been well disposed of 72"

Mr. Newton acted with the kindest intentions toward his poor friend, when he put these letters into his hands. There is nothing remarkable in the early part of the writer's history. His name was Van Lier, he was born in 1764, " of worthy parents and of respectable condition;" he was destined by them to the ministry, and educated accordingly; and in his boyhood he became strongly attached to a beautiful girl of his own age, whose family were intimate with his. To this lady, who is called Miss E., he made a declaration, by letter, from the university, and received for answer, that she could take no step in an affair of that sort without the knowledge and consent of her parents. This wounded his pride; he made advances to another lady, from whom he received a similar answer; then having frequent opportunities of seeing his first love, and finding that she had refused other offers, he soon ascertained that he was not indifferent to her, and obtained a promise of her hand, should the parents of both prove favourable to his wishes. "I was now," he said, "elevated to the pinnacle of joy, I accounted myself completely happy; and my heart, alas, full of idolatry, looked for felicity to the creature, regarding lightly the Creator, who is over all, blessed for ever." At this time he describes himself as full of hatred, envy, and malice, destitute of religion, and vicious,

72 To Mr. Newton, Oct. 15, 1790.

though externally seeming to deserve the praise of much decency. But among his scanty remains of virtue (" if any virtue," says he, "I had,) I still possessed a compassionate and beneficent disposition. I could not think much of any man oppressed with want and misery without painful sympathy. If the poor applied to me for relief, I assisted them willingly and gladly, and had sometimes a lively and grateful sense of my privilege. Yet even on such occasions I adverted not to the commandment of God, nor proposed to myself his glory as my object, but obeyed merely the dictates of natural instinct and sensibility." He had not indeed dived in the mud of German metaphysics, but he had dabbled in the puddles of French philosophy 73. Still there was in his heart of hearts a living and preserving principle.

"Certain it is," says he, "that unless God had forbidden and interposed by his grace to prevent it, I should in all probability have gone forth a declared enemy of revelation, at least of all true and spiritual religion. In the meantime I was accustomed frequently to pray at night on my bed, and in a phrase and manner perfectly opposite to my own opinions. Among other things I asked for conversion, using ordinarily these words: 'Draw me, O Lord, and I will run after thee! convert me, and I shall be converted!'—a sin

73 Among the works which were very hurtful to him those of Enicdenus and Voltaire are specified. Enicdenus belongs to the same Propria quæ maribus as Mules Quince, (vol. i. p. 8, n.) But in the present case I can only guess that this may be a printer's alias for Helvetius,.. the shallowest coxcomb that ever employed his little wit in endeavouring to degrade and corrupt his fellow creatures.

gular instance of God's overruling power. My prayer evidently contradicted my own ideas and opinions, and I asked that which I neither believed possible, nor desirable. I prayed also for God's assistance that I might grow in talents and in wisdom, that my studies might prosper, that the projects with which pride and ambition prompted me might have good success, and that my love of Miss E. might have consequences answerable to my wishes. Finally, I prayed that my parents, kindred, tutors, and friends, might all be objects of the divine benediction. Sometimes through sleepiness, or other hinderances, my prayers were either sadly interrupted, or altogether neglected; but it cost me little regret, or solicitude. While I prayed in this manner, it generally happened that my mind was extraordinarily agitated, and I experienced great emotion; nor can I doubt that I was occasionally much assisted by what are termed the common operations of the Holy Spirit. During these exercises, if I mistake not, I was wont to represent to myself the divine presence as a glorious light in heaven, like that of the sun, which light seemed visible to my imagination. My devotions of this kind were accompanied with great fervour, and even with a species of joy. Yet I have cause to believe that they were sometimes followed by a more daring and presumptuous commission of sin, for (the duty once performed,) I seemed to have acquired a right to sin at my ease, and without disturbance.

"At this time I was sickly and debilitated. A sudden dread of death would occasionally torment me, especially in the evening, and when I was alone. I

often had a singular notion that death would be particularly unwelcome and terrible to me in the dusk of evening, or in the night, or even in a gloomy day; but that I could die willingly and gladly under a bright sun and a serene sky. These sudden alarms and terrors, however, produced no fruit. I neither know nor believe that at this time I had any thoughts at all of the necessity of regeneration and faith in Christ. My meditations were unfrequent, and such were my religious affections; accordingly they were never effectual to beget in me an earnest desire of a new heart, or of recovering the lost favour of God."

And now by studying the works of Turretine he became convinced of God's providence, the authority of scripture, and consequently the truth of revelation. At times he was moved in his solitary meditations to tears, though his heart" was still like the stony ground." "Communion with God, and the enjoyment of him, were expressions," he says, "with which I could hardly connect an idea; at least no such idea as would in any measure explain to me, why, and for what reason, the enjoyment of God is to be preferred to all the pleasures of the world, and to all enjoyment of the creature. Sometimes, however, when in a clear night I saw the heavens spangled with stars, which I represented to myself as so many suns and worlds, I felt an ardent desire to be there; and, goaded by extreme curiosity, imagined it a most desirable and delightful privilege to spend an eternity in the contemplation of those systems. And could there but be a hope, (which at that time appeared, and still appears to me, not impossible,) that after death the soul may