who permits, if not appoints what I endure, having said, we shall not be tempted above what we are able to bear. He has been pitiful to my small grace, and removed a threatened blow, which must have quickened my sorrows, if not added to them, -the loss of my poor boy. He has been ill, and God has let me see the folly of my imaginations, which made me apt to conclude I had nothing left, the deprivation of which could be matter of much anguish, or its possession of any considerable refreshment. I have felt the falseness of the first notion, for I know not how to part, with tolerable ease, from the little creature. I desire to do so of the second, and that my thankfulness for the real blessing of these children may refresh my labouring, weary mind with some joy and satisfaction, at least, in my endeavours to do that part towards them, their most dear and tender father would not have omitted. And which, if successful, though early made unfortunate, may conduce to their happiness for the time to come, here and hereafter. When I have done this piece of my duty to my best friend and them, how gladly would I lie down by that beloved dust I lately went to visit! (that is, the case that holds it.) Tis a satisfaction to me you did not disapprove of what I did in it, as some do that, it seems, have heard of it, though I never mentioned it to any besides yourself.

Doctor, I had considered, I went not to seek the living among the dead. I knew I should not see him any more wherever I went, and had made

VOL. I.

D

a covenant with myself, not to break out in unreasonable, fruitless passion, but quicken my contemplation whither the nobler part was fled, to a country afar off, where no earthly power bears any sway, nor can put an end to a happy society: there I would willingly be, but we must not limit our time; I hope to wait without impatiency.

Woburn Abbey, June, 1684.

I am,

&c.

R. R.

LETTER XVII.

LADY RUSSELL to DR. FITZWILLIAM.-Faith victorious.

I have very lately received one of yours from London, and had one also from Cotenham since I wrote; but I had measured your time to be at London so near, that I would not send a sad dull paper to wander up and down, as some did when you was at Farnham with the good Bishop, whose present state you do in such a manner describe, as makes me feel at the reading (though it is not the first time neither) a lightsomeness I am not used to, and by a kind of reflex act make it my own in prospect. The consideration of the other world is not only a very great, but (in my small judgment) the only support under the greatest of afflictions that can befal us here: the enlivening heat of those glories is sufficient to animate and refresh

us in our dark passage through this world; and though I am below the meanest of God's servants, that have not in the least degree lived answerable to those opportunities I have had, yet my Mediator is my judge, and he will not despise weak beginnings, though there be more smoke than flame. He will help us in believing; and though He suffers us to be cast down, will not cast those off who commit their cause to him.

I have, you find, sir, lingered out my time here; and I think none will wonder at it, that will reflect the place I am going to remove to, was the scene of so much lasting sorrow to me, and where I acted so unsuccessful a part for the preservation of a life, I could sure have laid down mine to have had continued. It was, Doctor, an inestimable treasure I did lose, and with whom I had lived in the highest pitch of this world's felicity. But I must remember I have a better Friend, a more abiding, whom I desire with an inflamed heart to know, not alone as good in a way of profit, but amiable in a way of excellency; then, spiritual joy will grapple with earthly griefs, and so far overcome as to give some tranquillity to a mind so tossed to and fro, as mine has been with the evils of this life; yet I have but the experience of short moments of this desirable temper, and fear to have fewer when I first come to that desolate habitation and place, where so many several passions will assault me; but having so many months mourned the substance, I think (by God's assistance) the shadows will not sink me. To one so

lately arrived at London, and engaged as I know you to be, I am too tedious, for one who desires always to approve herself, good Doctor, your faithful friend and servant,

Woburn Abbey, 17 Nov. 1684.

R. R.

LETTER XVIII.

DAVID BRAINERD to his brother ISRAEL.-Written in extreme illness, a few months before his death.

MY DEAR BROTHER,

Boston, June 30, 1747.

It is from the sides of eternity I now address you. I am heartily sorry that I have so little strength to write what I long so much to communicate to you. But let me tell you, my brother, eternity is another thing than we ordinarily take it to be in a healthful state. Oh, how vast and boundless! Oh, how fixed and unalterable! Oh, of what infinite importance is it, that we be prepared for eternity! I have been just dying, now for more than a week; and all around me have thought me so. I have had clear views of eternity; have seen the blessedness of the godly, in some measure; and have longed to share their happy state, as well as been comfortably satisfied, that through grace I shall do so: but, oh, what anguish is raised in my mind, to think of an eternity for those who are Christless, for those who are mistaken, and who bring their

false hopes to the grave with them! The sight was so dreadful, I could by no means bear it; my thoughts recoiled, and I said, (under a more affecting sense than ever before,) "Who can dwell with everlasting burnings!" Oh, methought, could I now see my friends, that I might warn them to see to it, that they lay their foundation for eternity sure. And you, my dear brother, I have been particularly concerned for; and have wondered I so much neglected conversing with you about your spiritual state at our last meeting. Oh, my brother, let me then beseech you now to examine, whether you are indeed a new creature? whether you have ever acted above self? whether the glory of God has ever been the sweetest and highest concern with you? whether you have ever been reconciled to all the perfections of God? in a word, whether God has been your portion, and a holy conformity to him your chief delight? If you cannot answer positively, consider seriously the frequent breathings of your soul: but do not however put yourself off with a slight answer. If you have reason to think you are graceless, oh, give yourself and the throne of grace no rest, till God arise and save. But if the case should be otherwise, bless God for his grace, and press after holiness. (1)

My soul longs, that you should be fitted for, and in due time go into the work of the ministry.

(1) "Mr. Brainerd afterwards had greater satisfaction concerning the state of his brother's soul, by much opportunity of conversation with him before his death."-Jonathan Edwards.