y ei sH bo of om werb I doidy matomon bas ti пoqu TO A ŠIŞTER¬IN÷LAW, AT NY¿¡H 79qlon roly ad mid oT luidtint ai 9Hb99d1gnerte me bas 799nortz gået 9m 19 Boston, January 23, 1820 r NEXT Sabbath I expect to carry my little Joshua to the sanctuary, and devote him to that God whose gift he is. May the offering be accepted! May the first lispings of his infant tongue, be the expressions of holy and grateful affections to his Maker and Redeemer! I expect our dear brother Doto administer the ordi nance, and Deacon P. has kindly offered to stand up with me, and present the child. sometimes fear it will be more thandean bear. But I feel it to be a duty to have him baptized in public; and his dear father always objected to private baptisms, except on extraordinary occasions. The great thing, however, is to do it sincerely and in faith. The Lord give me grace thus to do it!botlegt anf no 2919h mit aque¶

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Iwant time, to tell you how good God has been to me. My stolen goods have all been graciously restored to me. My mind was, for the most, part during myconfinement, kept quiet, notwithstanding the painful retrospections which would press themselves, upon my cattention, whenever my head touched the pillow, where, on like occasions, I had been so often soothed by a voice which will speak to me no more, where every object reminded me of my unspeakable loss, where I seemed surrounded by the shades of the departed. Oh, my sis ter, you can have no idea of it. When S, was born, dear Mary Lyon, my mother, and my husband, were with me now they were all taken. But I found the arm of the Lord strong to sustain. May my life be ever devoted to his praise. Trust, him my dear F.; let your confidence in him grow stronger and stronger,; trust him for ever.

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Sed lignon vt tule os Boston, January 25, 1820. ›

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My dear friend andu sistero Ever since that sorrowful event which numbered me among those who can more emphatically than other classes of mourners, say, Lover and friend hast thou put far from me, and mine acquaintance into darkness, I have felt desirous of writing to you! Not because I expected to offer consolation to your mind, with which it is not already much better acquainted than mine, but from that natural feeling sof sympathy, which is excited towards those whose trials are similar to our own. And now that I have taken up my pen, tlie reflection that my time might be better occupied than in obtruding myself upon you, and thus opening anew the fountains of your grief (if indeed they have ever been closed in any measure,) by the recital of my own sufferings, almost induces me to lay it down again. However, do not mean to pain you, and agonize myself, in this way. Profitable as it may be for common mourners, to dwell often and long upon the circumstances of their bereavements, in order to cherish the impressions which such dispensations may have made on their hearts, it is not profitable for us. Suth sorrow as ours is in no danger of being suddenly diverted. The danger is on the other side, of its press ing so constantly and heavily on the spirit, as to crash the feeble body to the graves And would it not have been so with us, my dear friend, were it not that the hand of the Lord has been upon us for good?

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I have wished, and still wish, to know how you do, what are your circuinstances, and how your mind has been exercised under its heavy afflictions? I, you know, boð gullon; noblidɔ tis.lt not ob to bor of quidton

The widow of a clergyman, who, in the prime of life, and of usefulness, had been removed by death, leaving five small children. 90 37 300 97 Em DRA nogih guiob ri

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have had accumulated ones. But have we not both found that precious promise verified, "As thy days, so shall thy strength be?" Has the Lord ever been "a wilderness" to us > And may we not safely trust him for the future? Does he not know exactly, what measure of sorrow we can bear, as well as what kind we need mom. 16 eszed.*.

or And now, my friend, what remains for us to do in this world! Not to live for the temporal enjoyments of life, certainly; for how can any comført be received, any delight enjoyed, which will not, as long as we live, be embittered by the recollection of those, dearer to us than our own lives) who once) sympathized in all our joys, and whose sympathy with us was a principal source of our satisfaction? Yes, this bitter, bitter thought will press itself upon our remembrance, when we lie down, and when we rise up, in the house, and by the way. And, viewing our loss only in this manner, the world looks like a waste, a desert, a weary monotonous desert, stripped of all that once enlivened it. But we must not view it so. What did Christ live for? What did Paul live for? Alas! if we could find our happiness here in that in which the Saviour found his, we might yet see many good days in the land of the living. And this is what we must labour after. If we have little left us to enjoy, have we nothing left us to do ?And the happiness of our souls ought to result, the happiness of a holy soul will result, from doing and being just what God pleases. The mind which feels that it has no sympathies to be exercised, no object upon which to repose its affections, no business to employ its faculties, must sink into a state of hopeless and dreadful despondency. But the Christian should never feel thus. Though our precious husbands have left us, have we nothing to feel or do for their children; nothing to do for Christ, and for the Church which he hath purchased with his own blood And may we'n may we not yet be happy in doing diligently the work which he has given us to

do? My dear friend, we shall never be happy just asıl: we have been. Oh, no, never. The smile of tenderih. ness will wait for us no more when returning to our sorrowful habitations. The voice of unmingled love will greet us no more in our afflictions. The counsellors, advisers, supporters, and prophets, upon whom we leaned, who sanctioned by their influenced the expres sions of maternal authority, who bore us constantly und¤% earnestly before Gody are gone Nature shudders, is to she casts her eye forward, and thinks of this long, long b long separation.769 9jijini 29229220q od tudt bus med:

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But why have I suffered myself to fall into this sor-l rowful strain? I did it unintentionally unconsciously!T Forgive me. I have pained you, and I have pained myself. I was going to say, we must find our happiam ness in a different wayin girding up the loins of Journ minds to a more diligent performance of duty, in putJ07 ting on, as good soldiers of the cross, the whole armour1¤? of God, in setting our faces as a flint against every thing which can discourage, intimidate, or wound us, in re membering the example of our devoted, our suffering Saviour, in leaning on his arm, confiding in his wisdom, and trusting in his grace and strength, and in sending forward our hearts to that happy, happy home, which we hope one day to reach, and whither our beloved friends have gone before us. Let our expectations of earthly rest be moderate, except of that sweet rest which results from simple trust in Godas bogug od dos

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I have written thus far, and have not yet mentioned what I had most in view when I began."OT think wedy may derive benefit from remembering each other's chil dren in our prayers. Can we hot devote ten minutes every Saturday evening, at nine o'clock, to special pray er for each other, that we may have grace, wisdohr, courage and patience to do our duty; and for our chil-A dren, that their affections may be sanctified, our instructions blessed, they brought into the covenant ear. * ly, &c. Will you write, and let me know what you

think of it? My little boy wakes, and I must bid you h adieubet to slime

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nood 9ved 977 100 of gain0197 п9dw 970m on zu 101 Jiew lliw ear avol b-To MRS H. OF NORTH BRIDGEWATER (stwoTTOS enoidɔdite wo ni 9тom on ep 3997g lliw tolgo Boston, February 12, 1820.87ol

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-9amos odl mod og VERY dear brother and sister. Remember that the government of God extends to the minutest concerns iz of his creatures. Remember that he loveth his chiles, dren so well, that he wills everything that is best forde them, and that he possesses infinite power to execute of all the purposes of his will. What then is the result? That if he removes your children, he does it because it is necessary for you, because his glory and your good can be more effectually promoted by such a dispensa-m tion than they possibly could in any other way. Don you not believe it? Verily, if you cannot see it now.in you shall see it hereafter. Take, therefore, my bro ther and sister, the prophets who have spoken in the name of the Lord, for an example of suffering affliction. and of patience. Behold, we count them happy which endure Ye have heard of the patience of Job, and e have seen the end of the Lord, that the Lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy. Of his Church it is said, "In Measure, when it shooteth, forth, he will, debatesw with it be stayeth the rough wind in the day of his int east wind, By this, therefore, shall the iniquity of Jariss cob be purged; and this is all the fruit, to take away w sin.fou are rebuked, it is in the measure only which a righteous Ged, and merciful Father sees ade quate to answer the end which he proposes in thuse chastising you via to take away) sin. Are you not willing if God pleases to be made like your Saviour, fo Is it not sufficient for the disciple to be as his Master? Are you not willing to fill up the measure of his suffer

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