LETTER CXXV.

From Rev. J. OWEN to CHARLES FLEETWOOD, Esq.-His "desire to depart."

DEAR SIR,

The bearer has stayed long enough with us to save you the trouble of reading an account of me in my own scribbling: a longer stay I could not prevail with him for, though his company was a great refreshment to me. Both you and your whole family, in all their occasions and circumstances, are daily in my thoughts; and when I am enabled to pray, I make mention of you all without ceasing. I find you and I are much in complaining: for my part I must say, " and is there not a cause ?" so much deadness, so much inspirituality, so much weakness in faith, coldness in love, instability in holy meditations, as I find in myself, is cause sufficient of complaints; but is there not cause also of thanksgiving, and joy in the Lord? Are there not reasons for them? When I begin to think of them, I am overwhelmed; they are great, they are glorious, they are inexpressible. Shall I now invite you to this great duty of rejoicing more in the Lord? Pray for me that I may do so; for the near approach of my dissolution calls for it earnestly: my heart has done with this world, even in the best, and most desirable of its refreshments: if the joy of the Lord be not now strength unto it, it will fail. But I must have done. Unless God be pleased to affect some person or persons, with a deep sense of our de

clining condition, of the temptations and dangers of the day, filling them with compassion for the souls of men, making them fervent in spirit in their work, it will go but ill with us. It may be these thoughts spring from causeless fears; it may be none amongst us has an evil, a barren heart but myself: but bear with me in this my folly; I cannot lay down these thoughts until I die; nor do I mention them at present, as though I should not esteem it a great mercy to have so able a supply as Mr. C., but I am groaning after deliverance; and being near the centre, do hope I feel the drawing of the love of Christ with more earnestness than formerly but my naughty heart is backward in these compliances. My affectionate service to Sir John Hartopp, and his lady, and to the rest of your family, when God shall return them unto you.

I am, dear sir,

Yours most affectionately, in everlasting bonds, J. OWEN.

LETTER CXXVI.

REV. JOHN HOWE to his Brother-in-law, the REV. OBADIAH HUGHES. The lessons taught in the school of adversity.

Blessed be God, that we can have, and hear of each other's occasions of thanksgiving; that we may join praises as well as prayers, which I hope is done daily for one another. Nearer approaches, and constant adherence to God, with the improve

ment of our interest in each other's heart, must compensate (and I hope will abundantly) the unkindness and instability of a surly treacherous world, that we see still retains its wayward temper, and grows more peevish as it grows older, and more ingenious in inventing ways to torment whom it disaffects. It was, it seems, not enough to kill by one single death, but when that was almost done, to give leave and time to respire, to live again, (at least in hope,) that it might have the renewed pleasure of putting us to a further pain and torture in dying once more. Spite is natural to her. All her kindness is an artificial disguise: a device to promote and serve the design of the former, with the more efficacious and piercing malignity. But patience will elude the design, and blunt its sharpest edge. It is perfectly defeated when nothing is expected from it but mischief; for then the worst it can threaten finds us provided, and the best it can promise incredulous, and not apt to be imposed upon. This will make it at last despair and grow hopeless, when it finds that the more it goes about to mock and vex us, the more it teaches and instructs us; and that, as it is wickeder, we are wiser. If we cannot, God will outwit it, and carry us, I trust, safe through, to a better world, upon which we may terminate hopes that will never make us ashamed, &c.

VOL. 1.

S

LETTER CXXVII.

LADY RUSSELL to DR. FITZWILLIAM.

You cannot make so great a mistake, good doctor, I know, as not to be assured I accept most kindly every method you take for the disposing my sad heart to be submissively content with my portion here; and then to revive it to some thankful temper by various reflections. I do not resist so foolishly as to say they are not proper ones. I can discern so justly as to know you do not err, doctor, in the manner of magnifying your charitable respect, nor in the design nor prosecution of it; the virtue you chiefly recommend to practice is so beautifully set forth, it is as a burning, shining light, and one is willing to live with that light. But my languishing weary spirit rises up slowly to all good; yet I hope, by God's abundant grace, in time, your labours will work the same effect in my spirit; they will indeed in less time on others, better disposed and prepared than I am, who in the day of affliction seem to have no remembrance, with due thankfulness, of prosperity. Your papers sure, sir, are rarely fitted for the use of all struggling under the burden of sin or sorrow, though by a singular and particular charity composed for my lamentable calamity, and as seasonably is this new supply come as is possible, for its first perusal by me. Since I unsealed your packet this very morning, the 21st July, a day of bitterness

indeed; I seasoned the first minutes of retirement, I allotted on this day for prayer and mourning, with reading them, and made a stop for some time on those lines" We may securely depend on the truth of God's promises, to this purpose, that a seed-time of tears shall be followed by a plenteous harvest of joys." It is a sound I must hereafter be a stranger to, in my pilgrimage here, but that it shall one day belong to me is a contemplation of great comfort, and I bless God it is so. must not in lowliness of mind deny the grace I sometimes feel, though faint are my best thoughts and performances, as I am sensible.

I

LETTER CXXVIII.

LADY RUSSELL to DR. FITZWILLIAM.

Now I know where to find you, good doctor, (which I do by your letter writ at my cousin Spencer's) you must be sure to hear from her who is still not ashamed to be on the receiving hand with you. God has given you the abilities, and opportunity for it, and not to me; and what am I, that I should say, Why is it not otherwise ?—No, I do not, nor do I grudge or envy you the pious and ingenious pleasure you have in it; my part in this world is of another nature, and I thank you, (but God must give you the recompense,) you