Look at Brainerd, and Martyn, and others of a similar spirit; how much they experienced of religious enjoyment. We read their history, and regard them as phenomena in the moral world, and hardly think of trying to imitate them. But why may we not imitate them? Were they not of like passions with ourselves? Was not the world the same to them that it is to us? Oh, for that inextinguishable thirst after conformity to God as our chief good, which will lead us to be satisfied with nothing short of it; which will enable us to oppose a resolute and effectual resistance to the temptations of a flattering and deceiving world!

August 5. I heard an interesting sermon to-day, in which the preacher spoke much of the believer's future glory; the crowns, and diadems, and splendours, and honours, of heaven. I felt as if heaven was not so much an object of desire to me on these accounts; and that honours and crowns would ill become so vile a rebel as I am. But the prospect of perfect holiness and conformity to God !—this, oh this is heaven. It seems to me but little matter what place I have, if God choose it, though it be but that of a door-keeper in his house. That will be the happiest place for me which is assigned me by my blessed Lord. If I may behold his glory, and do his will, and grow in his likeness, I would be anxious respecting nothing else.

This has been a good day to me. I think I had some communion with my risen and glorified Saviour at his table. His example looks most lovely. I thought today, that I had never mourned for the sins of God's dear people, because they dishonour the precious name of Christ, as I ought. Oh, to long, and labour, and pray, for my own sanctification, and that of others, that my Saviour may be glorified!

TO A FRIEND AT A.

Bridgewater, August 20, 1821.

You have often, my dear Mrs. been present to my thoughts of late, especially at the time of my removal from my late beloved habitation; and I was strengthened and comforted by the remembrance of the comfort wherewith you were comforted of God, under similar circumstances. I cannot say that I experienced those clear and supporting manifestations of my Saviour's presence, under that trial, which you did, and which I humbly trust I have done before. My mind seemed so crowded with cares concerning the present, and overwhelmed with recollections of the past, that it was hardly capable of any connected and rational reflections. Yet when I felt myself in a degree settled, I think my heart was enabled, in some humble measure, to return unto its rest. I think I felt that, instead of murmuring at the removal of comforts once enjoyed, I could bless God for those which he had continued.

"He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High, shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty." There is more happiness prescribed in this single passage of Scripture, than I can form an idea of by accumulating all the combinations of felicity, drawn from mere earthly sources, which can be expressed or imagined. And yet, strange as it is, I am continually prone to cheat my soul out of the blessedness which it might derive from the fountain of life and comfort, by wandering away to the broken cisterns which my reason and conscience are convinced can never satisfy. Depravity this, which may well be considered desperate; that, with the most certain and unquestionable evidence, derived from experience, of the unmingled felicity which attends a life of communion with God,-felicity which, though fully satisfying, can never satiate the soul, we are still so ready to embrace every vanity,

1

calculated to lead us from God, which an alluring world, and a subtle adversary, can hold out to us!

My experience the first year after my beloved husband's death was comfort. My sins seemed laid asleep; and I thought the stroke, which had sundered me from the chief source of my temporal enjoyment, had also stamped upon the world an impression of uncertainty, and vanity, and tastelessness, which could never be effaced. But alas! I now feel that my present duty, as well as experience, is conflict. I find it to be unspeak ably difficult to keep my affections with that steadiness of determination, that engagedness and fervour of spirit, and that fixedness of eye, upon the things which are not seen and eternal, which become me, which God requires, and which will make me happy indeed.

AV

TO MRS. W., OF BOSTON.

Bridgewater, August 22, 1821.

My time since I have been here, has passed quite as pleasantly as I expected. I usually feel best at home, however. And just now, the approach of that solemn anniversary which must ever bring with it recollec tions most affecting and interesting, under circumstances so like those in which I was placed two years ago, cannot fail to cast over my mind a shade of sadness which I find it difficult to remove. I have passed some moments of inexpressible sorrow since I left you, though their continuance was short; sorrow like that when my soul was fainting under the anticipation of a stroke, which I could never steadily contemplate till its actual infliction; a stroke the effects of which must be felt while I live. But the Lord inflicted it. This quiets me. And shall not the Judge of all the earth do right? Yes. He gave, and I bless him for it.

He took away,

and I still bless him. He hath done all things well.

He is good giving, good withholding, good taking away; and I would trust him for ever.

But when I reflect upon my dreadful misimprovement of a dispensation, so eminently calculated to rouse me up to spirituality and entire consecration of soul to God, to a sincere renunciation of a world which had been proved so unfaithful, and to an active and diligent performance of duty, I wonder at myself. What can I expect but repeated sorrow, till I shall learn, what I find it so hard, so unspeakably hard to learn, to live to God alone? But I do hope this is my desire. I do hope I am willing to suffer, if I may be purified and made fit for the Master's use.

Let us, my sister, dread nothing but a separation from Him whom I trust our souls love. Let us fear nothing, but that He should "let us alone." Let us determine to rest in nothing but Him. Sometimes I feel that the day is far spent, and the night at hand; and that what I have to do, I must do quickly. But at other times, I find myself forming plans, and indulging in dreams, of earthly happiness. Delusive hope!

Ithink, , my dear friend, that our declensions always begin in the closet. Those moments of holy communion with God, which we sometimes enjoy, have a sanctifying influence on all the concerns and duties in which we are engaged. But if the seasons which we set apart for secret prayer, are trifled away with frivolous and vain thoughts and desires; or if they are seasons of weariness, when the mind spends all its strength per haps, in labouring to feel; they will do us little good, Not that they should be omitted. Oh no. But God forbid, that we should be satisfied in such a state. God forbid, that we should ever live contentedly at such a distance from him, as will make our prayers "a burden and a task.” i

How is your good husband? I trust the Lord has much for him to do in Boston. Trials he will have. They will do him good. They will give him more sin

gleness of heart towards God; and this is worth suffering for. Oh that he may enter into the labours of his beloved predecessor; water what he planted, and gather what he sowed; and when the Chief Shepherd shall appear, may they appear with him, and rejoice together over their mutual work!

TO ANOTHER FRIEND IN BOSTON.

Bridgewater, August 22, 1821.

I call

I was unable to see you during your illness. ed at Mrs. -'s while you were confined to your room, with the intention of extending my visit to your house; but learning from her how sick you were, and presuming that I could render you no service, I gave up the idea. But, though I have not seen you, I did not forget, or cease to love you. And it was with unfeigned satisfaction that I heard, from Mr., of the serenity of your mind in your, then, dangerous circumstances. Your hope of final salvation has, I trust, acquired a consistency and stability, from this recent trial of your faith, which compensates you for all that you suffered.

The Christian, in this world, is an unapt scholar. God has undertaken to prepare him for heaven. He has determined that this shall be done. But there is almost every thing in the way, to hinder and oppose the accomplishment of this benevolent purpose of the blessed God. Within, a nature wholly and inveterately inclined to evil, and without, every thing calculated to operate powerfully and successfully on the depravity of his nature. Alas! how could he get forward, did not the promise of God secure to him his sanctification as well as his justification? This, blessed be God! it does. "The Lord thy God will circumcise thine heart, to love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, that thou mayest live." But this promise must be fulfilled by the instrumentality of means. And