LETTER XXXI.

Weston-Favell, Nov. 1. 1746.

DEAR SIR,-THIS morning I received your favour. The day lowers, and threatens rain, which debars me from the pleasure of paying you my thanks in person.

Mr Huygens I hope to read very carefully. But, I believe, it will be proper to take heed of adopting into my plan any notions that are difficult and abstruse. I would have every thing so perspicuous, that the dimmest understanding may apprehend my meaning; so obvious, that he who runs may read. Let me lay before you a little sketch of my design, with a request that you would alter the general order, and make retrenchments, or additions of particular incidents, as you shall think most expedient.

A contemplative walk. The approach of evening, and gradual extinction of light. The advantages of solitude. The stillness of the universe. The coolness of the atmosphere. Darkness, and its usefulness to mankind. Sleep, and its beneficial effects. Dreams, and their extravagance. A glow-worm glimmering. An owl shrieking. A nightingale singing. The very different circumstances of mankind: some revelling and carousing; some agonizing and dying. A knell sounding. The notion of ghosts walking. The moon, with its various appearances, and serviceableness to our globe: the heavenly bodies; their number, size, courses, distances, display many of the glorious attributes of their Creator; some of which are specified. They teach nothing of redemption; this the peculiar prerogative of revelation. Christ the day-star from on high, that points out and makes clear the way of salvation.

These are some of the subjects which, I imagined, might be admitted into the composition of a nightpiece. If others occur to your mind more pleasing, or more striking, be pleased to suggest them.

I am glad to find, by the quotation from Mr Locke, that your esteem and veneration for the Scriptures are on the increasing hand. May we be persuaded, ever more and more, of the incomparable excellency of those sacred volumes. This one consideration, that they are the book of God, is a higher recommendation of them than could be displayed in ten thousand panegyric orations. For my part, I purpose to addict myself, with more incessant assiduity, to this delightful and divine study. Away, my Homer; I have no more need of being entertained by you, since Job and the Prophets furnish me with images much more magnificent, and lessons infinitely more important. Away, my Horace; nor shall I suffer any loss by your absence, while the sweet singer of Israel tunes his lyre, and charms me with the finest flights of fancy, and inspirits me with the noblest strains of devotion. And even my prime favourite, my Virgil, may withdraw; since in Isaiah I enjoy all his majesty of sentiment, all his correctness of judgment, all his beautiful propriety of diction, and-But I must have done. The messenger waits; he can stay no longer than barely to allow me leisure to subscribe myself, dear sir, &c.

LETTER XXXII.

Weston-Favell, Nov. 29. 1746. DEAR SIR, HAVING taken cold, and got a hoarseness, I am afraid to venture abroad, lest I should lose my voice, and be incapable of performing the duty of the morrow.

If any method is agreed upon by the committee, for endeavouring, in some more effectual manner, to promote the spiritual recovery, and everlasting welfare of the infirmary patients, I wish you would be so kind as to inform me of it in a letter; that if any part of this generous undertaking should fall to my share, I may address myself to the prosecution of it, with all the ability which the Divine Goodness shall

vouchsafe to communicate. Or, if there be no need of my concurrence, that I may accompany it with my best wishes, and, at least, further it with my prayers. Who am, &c.

LETTER XXXIII.

MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,-YOUR last found me on the recovering hand, getting strength and spirits, though by slow degrees.

Soon after I received your favour, a messenger came from London, bringing us the alarming news, that my youngest brother was extremely ill. My 'father's bowels yearned, and his heart bled; but the infirmities of age, and an unwieldy constitution, hindered him from taking the journey. Upon me, therefore, the office fell. Feeble and languid as I was, there was no rejecting such a call. Accordingly I took coach, and in two days arrived safe at London, where I found my poor brother (the packer) seized with a most violent fever. He was attended by two eminent physicians; but they proved vain helpers, and miserable comforters. For a considerable time his stout' constitution struggled with the disease, but at last was forced to yield, was forced to drop in the dreadful combat. After attending his sick-bed for several days, I had the melancholy task of closing his dear eyes, and resigning him up to death.

Oh! the uncertainty of mortal things! What is health but a glimmering taper, that expires while it shines, and is liable to be extinguished by every motion of the air? What is strength, but a tender blossom, that is often withered in its fullest bloom; often blasted, even before it is blown? Who could have thought that I should survive my brother, and follow him to the grave? I, sickly and enervated, he always lively and vigorous: In flourishing circumstances, and blessed with prosperity in his business; but now removed to the dark, inactive, silent tomb:

Lately married to a beautiful and blooming bride; but now everlastingly divorced, and a companion for creeping things.

Scarce was I returned to Weston, but another awful providence fetched me from home. My very worthy physician, Dr Stonehouse, who lives and practises at Northampton, had the misfortune to lose an amiable and excellent wife. She also was snatched away in the morning of life (aged 25), and dead before I so much as heard of her being disordered. At this valuable friend's house I was desired to abide some time, in order to assist in writing letters for him, and dispatching his necessary affairs; in comforting him concerning the deceased; and (if the will of God be so) in endeavouring to improve the awakening visitation to our mutual good.

You will surely say, when you read this account, that I have been in deaths oft. Once upon the borders of it myself, and more than once a spectator of its victory over others. However, my dear friends, let us not be dismayed. Let no man's, at least no believer's, heart fail, because of this king of terrors. Though thousands fall beside us, though ten thousands expire at our right hand, and though we our→ selves must quickly give up the ghost; yet the word is gone out of our great Redeemer's mouth, and it shall not return unfulfilled,-I will swallow up death in victory. He shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: he shall say to the grave, Give up; and to the sea, Keep not back; release my sons from your dark confinement, and restore my daughters to their everlasting Father's arms. Then shall we lead him captive whose captives we were, and triumph eternally over this last enemy. In the mean time, let us lay all our help, all our guilt, upon the divine Author of our faith, and Captain of our salvation. So shall we no longer be in bondage, through fear of death; but, with the saints of old, overcome through the blood of the Lamb; overcome the dread, even while we sink beneath the stroke of this our mortal foe.

What I wrote concerning a firm faith in God's most precious promises, and an humble trust that we are the objects of his tender love, is what I desire to feel, rather than what I actually experience. Considerations they are, with which I would ply my own heart, in hopes that they may be effectually set home by divine grace, in hopes that they may become the happy means of making me strong in faith, and enabling me thereby to give glory to God.

Your remarks on this important point are exceedingly judicious, and perfectly right. After which, it will be insignificant to my friend, and look like arrogance in his correspondent, to add, that they exactly coincide with my sentiments.

I do not doubt but there are many dear children of the blessed God, who are in a much better condition, with regard to his favour, than they can easily. be persuaded to believe. Many sincerely righteous, for whom light is sown; many true hearted, for whom joyful gladness is prepared: which, though latent in the furrows of inward tribulation, or oppressed under the clods of misgiving fears, shall, in another world, spring up with infinite increase, and yield an everlasting harvest.

That humble hope, mixed with trembling, you have very pathetically described, in the breathings of a renewed soul panting after God; languishing for the tokens of his love; ardently desiring the final enjoyment of him in his heavenly kingdom; and relying wholly on the meritorious passion, pleading nothing but the perfect righteousness of Jesus Christ. Happy, without all peradventure, happy the heart, in which such affections habitually prevail. They are the beginning of heaven, and will certainly be completed in glory. They constitute a signal part of that meetness for the inheritance of saints in light, concerning which the apostle speaks, and which is one of the surest evidences of our designation to that purchased possession. Christ will in no wise, on no consideration of past provocation or present corrup