this blessed work, my mind was in darkness, and at times in much distress. I was often convinced that my hope was only the hope of the hypocrite, and that notwithstanding the public profession I had made of my faith in the Redeemer, I should at last come short of eternal life. My reasons for this conclusion were the following; my hope did not afford consolation; prayer was not refreshing and spiritual; religious conversation was no more interesting than conversation upon the things of the world. If I am a child of God, why is it thus with me? During all this time I believe the Spirit of God was striving with me, and preparing me for a more thorough knowledge of my own heart. When the revival commenced, I said, now this question must be decided. I. cannot live in this state of anxious uncertainty. I must have more evidence of piety, or live without hope. At the next conference, I mentioned to my brethren the darkness and distress of my mind, with the hope that they would pray for me, without ceasing. This was the effect. My christian friends conversed with me, and prayed and wept for me in secret places. For this tenderness and faithfulness, they have my sincere thanks, and my prayers to God that he would reward them an hundred fold.

"During the two succeeding weeks, I walked in thick darkness; surely it was the darkness of the shadow of death. I read the promises to the penitent, but could not apply them to mysel£ There was nothing in the Bible to heal my wounded spirit. How readily would I have given the world, were it in my possession, for that peace, which God giveth to his children. At a meeting on Saturday evening, I rose to speak, but could not proceed. pray for me,' was all I could say. After meeting, my friends said, 'you must resign yourself to God;' but in my view I could no more do it, than I could move the globe. Every effort was struggling against God; every prayer was the service of the lips, not of the heart. I went backward and forward, on the right hand and on the left, but could not find him. I retired for rest, but 'my thoughts on awful subjects roll'd, damnation and the dead.' I slept a few moments, but it was the sleep of sorrow. I awoke to experience the bitterness of despair. The next Sabbath as the Rev. Mr. M. was absent, a sermon was read from II. Corinthians, v. 20, in which the importance of the present moment was urged with great faithfulness. Again I tried to bow to the Saviour. Reclining upon the seat, I cried audibly, so that a few heard me, 'what shall I do? About this time six of my fellow students were

rejoicing in hope of the glory of God. This event taught me the exceeding depravity of my heart. It led me to reflect that 'it is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God, that sheweth mercy.' I could not be willing that such a God should reign. The scriptures commanded me to repent, and yet affirmed, 'it is God that sheweth mercy.' In this situation I continued until the next Sabbath morning, November 11th; a morning, which I shall ever remember as the happiest of my life. After prayers in the chapel, I took my Bible, and retired to a grove west of the college. I recollect distinctly the impression on my mind while I walked to the grove, that it was the last attempt; if unsuccessful now, I can do no more. This passage of scripture was fixed in my mind, 'O Israel thou hast destroyed thyself' My past abused privileges, my unholy prayers, my opposttion to a holy God were set in array before me; and I saw the wickedness of my whole life, as clearly as I saw the sun, which shone upon me. I believe I had no doubt, that I was a vessel of wrath fitted for destruction. Wearied and distressed I sat down upon a log, and contemplated the miseries of hell. My thoughts were thus; 'your doom is now certain, you did hope for heaven, but you will hope no more. Your sentence is just. O miserable hell! God commands you to repent; but your heart is too hard, it will not relent.' At this moment, I was directed to Jesus, as an all-sufficient Saviour. Then my heart acquiesced in his atonement, and in his dealings with such a vile sinner, as I saw myself to be; and my soul reposed itself on the arm of everlasting love. I felt the chain break; O it was the bondage of sin! I opened the Bible, and read these words, 'For this cause, I bow my knees to the God, and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.' It will never be in my power to give an adequate description of my feelings in view of this passage. There was a beauty, majesty, and sweetness in it which are indescribable. I dwelt upon it until my heart was in a flame of love. Jesus revealed himself in his glory. In his countenance shone a divine majesty and benevolence. In a moment I raised my hands, and exclaimed, ‘Father, glorify thyself." (These words were often repeated.) Thy law is holy, and just, and good. Let the Lord reign, and let all the people keep silence before him. If I perish, I can smile to see the Lord Jesus King over all the earth.' After an hour, I returned to my room. Brother Hall was singing these words, 'My heart grows warm with holy fire.' It was sweet, heavenly music; it rejoiced my heart. During the day I was not

sensible of any peculiar change; but in the evening after giving a statement of the dealings of God with me, heaven opened to my ravished eye, and the divine Redeemer took up his abode in my heart. This was a hope full of glory; this was peace of conscience and joy in the Holy Ghost. Passed the night with uncle S. P.— and it was a night of heavenly peace. The world lost its charms; death appeared only the gate to glory. For the first time, I desired to depart and be with Christ. The next day I was rather insensible until evening; at the close of secret prayer, my soul thirsted, even panted after God. For two hours, I could say, 'none but Christ, none but Christ.' It was better to sit at the feet of Jesus, and to hear his gracious words, than to receive the honors and riches of the whole world. To him I dedicated my life, my talents, my all; desiring to be devoted to him, while I remain in the flesh, and to be accepted of him, when I pass the valley of the shadow of death. To God, the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, be blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honor, and power, for ever, Amen."

Some time after the events here related, Mr. Parsons forwarded this account to his mother, in compliance with her particular request. The original paper, which he penned for his own use, and from which it was transcribed, is before me; and I find by comparison that the account now given is somewhat abridged.

If, in the christian experience of some of God's favored children, there be some things which excite our astonishment, let us not rashly condemn that to which we may not have attained. Thousands are undoubtedly brought into the Redeemer's kingdom, with far less terror than Mr. Parsons experienced, and without such raptures of joy. His religion, however, was of a modest character; and he was decidedly opposed to any thing which savored of ostentation.

During the period under consideration Mr. Parsons supposed that he had ever before been a stranger to vital godliness. But on farther examination of his

heart, and more mature reflection, he was on the whole rather inclined to think otherwise. Whether he was, or was not, a true believer before; this was eminently a new era in his christian life, and he now received an impulse in religion, which he never lost. The remark, though not new, is doubtless just, that the mind sometimes receives a bias in conversion, or in the period of first love, which gives a particular direction to the whole course of future life. This was the fact in the present instance. For in this delightful period of his espousals to Christ, the wants and wretchedness of the heathen very deeply impressed the mind of Mr. Parsons; and some of his first desires were for their illumination and conversion.

His hope was that which maketh not ashamed; his faith was not a cold-assent to doctrines, nor merely a belief that his sins had been forgiven. Even at the early period of eighteen, he manifested something of that love to souls, that christian zeal and expansive benevolence, which shone afterwards with brighter splendour. In the winter vacation of 1812, he spent several days in visiting, in his father's society, from house to house, for the sole purpose of recommending that Saviour, whom his soul loved. Whether any salutary effects resulted from this labour of love, another day will reveal.

From the period under consideration, Mr. Parsons kept a journal of his religious exercises. Generally, though not always, on Sabbath morning or evening, he noted down the state of his mind; and occasionally he wrote on other days. A few extracts, from that part of his journal which was penned while a member of college, will give a general view of the state of his mind, and probably be interesting to the christian reader.

"February 2, 1812.-This day attended the funeral of one of my collegiate brothers, Mr. Ebenezer Weeks. He is gone to his long-wished-for home. He often gave me pious instruction. I looked to him as a father'; but God has removed him. This is a mysterious providence! But why this mourning? Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?”

On this occasion, though Mr. Parsons felt deeply, he was enabled to acquiesce in the will of his heavenly Father. But the early departure of Mr. Weeks, so afflictive to an individual, was justly esteemed a public loss. He was an excellent classical scholar, possessed a discriminating mind, and a sound judgment; and not a few had raised expectations of his future usefulness.

But it pleased him, "whose thoughts are not as our thoughts," to number this young man among the dead, only a few months before his class received the honors of college. He was hurried to the grave by a typhus fever. As a swelling in his throat rendered him incapable of speaking, he signified his expectation of a speedy departure, by writing on the hand of a friend the word "death." Being requested a short time before he expired to express by a sign the state of his mind, he stretched out his pale, trembling hand, and wrote on the hand of his brother, the name 66 Jesus ;" and then looked upward with a serene composure, a heavenly smile.

Soon after, Mr. Parsons was called to `experience a similar affliction, in the death of a beloved classmate.. The state of his mind under this bereavement may be learned by an extract from his journal, dated

"March 29, 1812.-Brother Timothy Hoit is laid in the silent tomb. He fell asleep in Jesus, and has undoubtedly commenced his eternal song. O my brother,