here.

There is some reproach, whether we be faithful or not. So that we lose nothing by being faithful. I am so young in these things, that I do not know any thing about them. I have only entered the wilderness. But I apprehend much. I would gladly enter Canaan, without encountering "the greatness of the way." Were it the will of God, and were he to give me faith and strength for it, I would to-morrow, with great joy, leave this world, and all it offers. Were I sure it would not entangle and destroy me at last, I would rather stay and endeavour to do something for God; but I am not sure of that.

I often compare myself, in my present exile, to John, in the island of Patmos. Would that, like him, I had finished my course, and had only to contemplate "the new heavens!" But I am а stranger to suffering " for the word of God, and the testimony of Jesus Christ."

I sigh much for that singleness of mind and purity of heart, and love to God, which distinguish the disciple of Christ. And I often wonder whether it is to be effected by keen affliction in body and spirit, or by the " power of the word of God, dividing asunder like a two-edged sword," or by long fighting and sorrowful experience slowly teaching, and ending with a doubt whether I am taught.

Amidst the multitude of my thoughts "the Lamb that was slain" is my only hope.

How frequent is the character of a semi-serious Christian. There is a state in which some have been held for many years: a state, whose nature

was never rightly understood by those around them, nor by themselves; sometimes looking to the word of God, and sometimes to the world; sometimes animated by a zeal to live holily, and sometimes sinking under a particular sin. From such a state they have at length emerged; and shone, in the evening of life, with a splendour which has dazzled all around.

I hope that Mrs. Brown is in good health and spirits.

Buxtorf came safe up the river. I am sorry to find that that silent critic, the white ant, has perused almost every page.

I remain, dear Sir,

Yours very affectionately,

C. BUCHANAN.

LETTER CLX.

REV. ANDREW FULLER to MR. JOHN THOMAS, a missionary in deep spiritual distress.

MY VERY DEAR Brother,

May 16, 1796.

I have read yours to brother Pearce. O what feelings does it excite! How could I weep on your account! Nay, before I write any more, I will go aside, and weep, and pray for you, to him who alone can deliver your soul from death, and keep your feet from falling.

My dear brother, it has afforded me some consolation, while pleading with God on your behalf,

that his help could fly swifter than this letter. O that before this arrives you may be delivered from the horrible pit!

Shall I tell you a little of my own experience? At one period of my life I had a severe domestic trial. My heart melted under it like wax. I cried much to the Lord, and he delivered me out of my affliction. At first I thought I could never forget his goodness. I erected, as it were, a memorial to it, and charged my soul to live to him all my future life. But within a few months after my troubles had subsided, I sunk insensibly into a kind of lassitude, and neglected to watch and pray. I became careless and indolent, and my work became less interesting to me than heretofore. In this state of mind I was accosted with temptations, which, though they did not draw me into open sin, will cause deep self-abasement to the end of my life. My hands hung down like a bulrush, and I had no pleasure in myself. I used to preach, and resolved to preach the truth, though it should rise up in judgment at the last day to condemn me: and often have I gone into the pulpit with the idea, that possibly it might be only heightening my condemnation. I seldom was without hope; though I sometimes feared that I did not refrain from sin because I loved God, but because I was afraid of the consequences; which I could not but consider a mark of a wicked character. Though I had nearly lost the enjoyments of religion, I was almost equally unacquainted with its sorrows. My heart refused to melt. A tear, though shed in anguish, was to

me a real enjoyment. A deep dejection seized me, which, though I strove to throw it off in company, would be sure to return as soon as I retired. I did not neglect private prayer, but had no enjoyment in it. I used to cast myself prostrate before the Lord, depressed under the load of a hard heart. Now and then I groaned out, "God be merciful to me a sinner." I never, till then, understood the thirty-second and thirty-eighth Psalms, in which the psalmist appears to describe the state of his mind after his sin, and previous to his restoration. (') O, thought I, blessed indeed is the man whose transgression is forgiven, and in whose spirit is no guile! But it is not so with me!-I had used to make memorandums in a kind of diary; but now I left it off. used now and then, however, to write a little; and I will give you an extract.

I

"Oct. 3, 1789.-I feel at times some longings after the lost joys of salvation, but cannot recover them. I have departed from God; and yet I may rather be said to be habitually dejected on account of it, than earnestly to repent for it. I find much hardness of heart, and a spirit of inactivity has laid hold of me. I feel that to be carnally minded is death. O that it were with me as in months past!"

About this time I read Dr. Owen on "Mortification of Sin" with great advantage, which I will send you. It will be accompanied with my prayers, that it may be of as much use to you as it was to

me.

(1) Psalm xxxii. 3, 4; xxxviii. 1, 10.

Within these few years, my soul has not only recovered its former tone; but, blessed be God! a greater degree of spiritual strength than at any former period; and I think my engagement in the work of the mission has more than any thing contributed to it. Before this I did little but pore over my misery; but since I have betaken myself to greater activity for God, my strength has been recovered, and my soul replenished. I have not been contented with ransacking for past evidences of love to God, but have been enabled to love and serve him afresh; looking for mercy to the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world. But I still look back to the wormwood and the gall. My soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled in me. Should this recital of the Lord's dealings with me be of use to you, how thankful shall I be! The Lord Jesus Christ be with thy spirit.

Affectionately yours,

A FULLER.

LETTER CLXI.

MISS H. MORE to the REV. JOHN NEWTON.

MY DEAR SIR,

Cowslip Green, July 23, 1788.

I rejoice that you and Mrs. Newton are in possession of the pure delight of retirement, rural scenery, health, and friendly society, the best