praise is pleasant work. I think I can call on all the creation to praise the Lord, to be thankful unto him, and speak well of his name. I rejoice that saints praise him on earth; I rejoice that the spirits of the just made perfect, and my blessed husband among them, praise him better in heaven. I love to think of the time when I too shall praise him as I wish. Now Hosannas languish on my tongue. But ere long I shall see him as he is, be satisfied with his likeness, and serve him without weariness, and without interruption, for ever and ever. Blessed, glo. rious hope. TO A FRIEND AT A. Boston, November 23, 1820. I have perceived an alteration in my mind since that bitter bereavement which closed up for ever, as to this world, one of the deepest channels through which the tide of my affections rolled upon the creature. An alteration which I should think very natural, viz. a more ardent attachment to other friends than I used to feel when I had a husband to love. This, I say, seems natural. An affectionate heart must love something. And, oh, most wretched is the being who, accustomed to bestow on an object all the strength of a generous, ardent attachment, can find nothing, on the removal of that object, to excite and diffuse its exercise again. Though God should occupy the chasm left within by the removal of those who, perhaps, filled too large a space in our hearts, he does not require us to love him only. And, as we are social creatures, it is a mercy that we can feel the soothing glow of affection transferred, in some measure, from one to many, if we can love that one no longer. God has made us so; and I bless him for it. Who could live, having such a stream stopped, at once, and for ever? Yes, my dear E., I love you more than I used to do; and am not jealous lest my affection for you should not all be reciprocated. And this experience is not observed in relation to you only, but also to others. I did not see you enough when you were last in Boston. Our meetings often remind me of that world where all the redeemed of the Lord shall be gathered into one common family, be made kings and priests unto God, and go no more out, for ever. Blessed day! Oh, could we remove the veil which conceals eternity from our view, — but it is not necessary; for we have a more sure word of prophecy, which reveals all that is required to confirm our faith, and stimulate us to exertion. My dear E., how little we realize our high and holy vocation, our unspeakable privilege in being called the daughters of the Lord Almighty,-if indeed we have been born of the Spirit,-our immense obligations, our glorious destination! If we realized these things, would it not be impossible for us to live as we do? Sinners saved by grace, through the application of the blood of the everlasting covenant; our suffering, bleeding, dying Surety and Redeemer, passed into the heavens to appear in the presence of God for us, having left us an example that we should follow his steps, and gone to prepare mansions in his Father's house for us; such an expiation, even the precious blood of Christ; such a salvation, from indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish-moral ruin hopeless and eternal, to glory, honour, immortality and eternal life!-oh, realizing these things, could we live as we do; could we be so earnest to obtain the contemptible honours, immunities, and advantages of this poor, changeful world; could we so eagerly pursue its pleasures and deceits; could we be N so discomfited by its perplexities and burdens; could it hold out to us, so often with success, its allurements, to tempt us from our Master and his service? Oh, no, no, no. soon. What little things these worlds would be, : Well, dear E., these things will all be realized by us Whether prepared for it or not, we shall soon see, not through a glass darkly, but with the clear vision of immortality. O, how shall we see? Where shall we be found?-In view of this awful subject, all is darkness and despair when we look to ourselves, when we look to any thing we are, any thing we have done, any thing we can do it is all dark, dark, dark. But,-for ever and for ever, blessed be God !-we are not to look for justification to any thing in ourselves. There is an all-sufficient Saviour. He came to call, not the righteous, but sinners, to repentance. His blood cleanseth from all sin. And he has said, "Him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out." sinners. Here let us cast our anchor-hope for eternity. Oh, to be found in Him now; to be found in Him at that awful day when the secrets of all hearts shall be made manifest; to be found in Him for ever! As it respects ourselves, our great concern should be, to make our calling and election sure; and, as He who hath called us is holy, to be holy in all manner of conversation and as it respects others, that they may be brought within the bond of the covenant, which is ordered in all things and sure, and is all our salvation, and all our desire. : Here is hope, hope for I hope you remember Wednesday evenings. I think I sometimes have much satisfaction in praying for your children. I do feel as if God will bless to them your instructions and prayers, and those of your dear hus band. I do believe that God will accept this free-will offering at our hands. Has he not said, " If two of you shall agree on earth, as touching any thing that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven." And hath he said it, and will he not do it? Hath he promised, and will he not perform? Let us plead with him for faith to lay hold on his covenant for ourselves and ours, and believe that he will make sure to us those gracious terms of it, "As for me, this is my covenant with them, saith the Lord; my Spirit that is upon thee, and my words which I have put in thy mouth, shall not depart out of thy mouth, nor out of the mouth of thy seed, nor out of the mouth of thy seed's seed, saith the Lord, from henceforth and for ever." Gracious covenant! Even so, amen. Let it be unto thine handmaidens, even according to this good word which thou hast spoken ! November 25. I am distressed to find my heart disturbed with the workings of pride, on a subject with respect to which I had hoped it was at rest. Oh the intricacies of the operations of this law of sin !-Now, oh thou meek and lowly Jesus! I do desire to yield myself up wholly to thee; to be, not only satisfied, but pleased, with that station which thy wisdom assigns me. If it be thy pleasure to remove me from a post in which I never was faithful, and set another in my place, oh give me a heart to pray that she may be more faithful than I was. Oh my Saviour, I fly to thy blood to wash away the guilt of my past unfaithfulness, to make me more engaged in duty for the time to come. Enable me cheerfully to take up my cross and follow thee to that station in thy Church which thou seest to be best for me; and that, not from the pride of submitting with magnanimity to an inevitable evil, but from simple, cheerful love to thy will, and confidence in thy wisdom! Above all things, oh dear Redeemer, clothe me with humility. Make me ashamed to desire a great share of human approbation and admiration, when thou, my Lord and Master, didst have so different a lot during thy short and sorrowful life! The person of sensibility, who reflects a moment upon the situation of Mrs. Huntington at this period, will not be surprised at the strain of remark in the last extract, and in others of a similar character to be introduced hereafter. She was now to resign the station, and, in some important respects, the place in the affections of the beloved people of whom her husband had been the pastor, which she had so long held, to another. More than this. She was to witness the transfer to another, of the peculiar attentions which, as the wife of the minister, she had, for so long a time, been accustomed to receive. Is it strange that, in these circumstances, she should feel, deeply feel? Yet the struggles of which she speaks were confined to her own breast; and their existence there, was not even suspected by her most intimate friends. During all the transactions embraced in the calling and settlement of another Pastor, her wonted cheerfulness was never observed to have forsaken her. None appeared to be more highly gratified than she did, by the restoration to the church and congregation of the privileges of a stated and settled ministry. And, from the arrival of her successor, Mrs. Huntington manifested for her the warmest friendship, reposed in her the most entire and affectionate confidence, improved every opportunity of obtaining for her the respect and attachment of the people, and appeared to rejoice in the attentions she received. Such was the strength of her religious |