ed the fire of my sins in his own blood! How can I but praise him if he has given me a glance of his excellency! If any do not love him, it is surely because 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 thousand, and altogether lovely. His person is glory, his name is love, his work from first to last is grace. The moment the sinner is enabled to behold him, he is seized with greater admiration than the queen of Sheba felt when brought into the presence of Solomon, and is convinced that they only are happy who, as children and servants in his family, stand continually before him, to wait upon him, admire him, and hear his wisdom. But, ah! how 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 us 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 upon 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 hand, and if he sees it best for me to be gratified, he will make it practicable, and his providence will likewise determine the fittest season. 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 off with alacrity, for I long to walk upon

that lawn, and to sit in that tub, and to converse with those dear friends who have deservedly so much ́ of my heart.

Thank Miss M

I

for her letter. We rejoice to hear that your dear mamma is better. 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 severer trials, it disposes me in some measure to submission, thankfulness, and confidence. Our trials are light, ourselves being judges; but I see that he can make those that appear to be heaviest, 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 she can bear to receive us, and if she ean bear no more. For I believe another interview with her, before the Lord sends his chariot and angels to remove her from this land of sorrow, will be the principal and most interesting object of our journey. Our other friends, if we are spared, we may hope to see at some future time. I consider her as in the situation of the apostle when he wrote 2 Tim. iv. 6.

I am preparing materials for two more volumes of Cardiphonia. My present thought is, to have them ready for publication at a time when my pen will no longer be able to move. Whether 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 impatient for its arrival; but I do wish my willingness to live longer here, was more simply and solely from a desire of promoting 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 debased by an undue attachment to earthly things, and a want of spirituality.

I am yours, &c.

ΤΟ

***.

MY DEAR MADAM,

June 8, 1780.

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 dispensations with which the Lord has been pleased to visit the town. He has a merciful design even when he inflicts, and I hope the rod will be sanctified to those who were too negligent under the public means of grace. I am not sorry for Mrs. H's death, as you say she died in the Lord, for she had but little prospect of temporal comfort. The death of 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 only to wait with patience, our time likewise will shortly come. The bright, important hour of dismis sion 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 must 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 engross

ed the time I had allotted for your letter. I knew not how to grudge it her; she had wished to spend an hour with me; her conversation I think was from the heart, and I believe 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 kind are neither so frequent, nor so violent as when at

mercies to us are great, and renewed every morning.

His

I have still a quarter of an hour for you; but now, when opportunity presents, a subject is not at hand, and I have no time to ruminate. I will tell you a

piece of old news. The Lord God is a sun and shield, and both in one. His light is a defence; his protection is cheering; a shield so long, and so broad, as to intercept and receive every arrow 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 reach us, except it first makes its way through our shield. And what a sun is this shield! when it breaks forth it changes winter into summer, 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 from our view.

Public affairs 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 tapis. I should hope for some halcyon days after the storm but for the awful insensibility which