3 
 
 |THEOLO(  prICAL  SEMINARY,! 
 
 <§!  P  knceton,  N.  J.  ^ 
 
 CT  275  . H7 7 5  W5  1832 
 Wisner,  Benjamin  Blydenburg, 
 
 1794-1835 . 
 
 Memoirs  of  the  late  Mrs. 
 Susan  Huntington,  of 
 
» 
 
 / 
 
 ■v 
 
e- 
 
 I.  Ch 
 
 r/<3 
 
 MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 MRS.  SUSAN  HUNTINGTON, 
 
 OF  BOSTON,  MASS. 
 
 BY  V 
 
 BENJAMIN  B.  WISNER, 
 
 PASTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SOUTH  CHURCH  IN  BOSTON. 
 
 WITH 
 
 AN  INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY, 
 
 AND 
 
 AN  ORIGINAL  POEM, 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES  MONTGOMERY, 
 
 AUTHOR  OF  “  THE  WORLD  BEFORE  THE  FLOOD,”  “  SONGS  OF  ZION,’ 
 “  THE  CHRISTIAN  PSALMIST,”  “  THE  CHRISTIAN  POET,”  & C. 
 
 SEVENTH  EDITION. 
 
 GLASGOW: 
 
 PRINTED  FOR  WILLIAM  COLLINS; 
 
 OLIVER  &  BOYD,  WM.  WHYTE  &  CO.  AND  WM.  OLIPHANT,  EDINBURGH 
 W.  F.  WAKEMAN,  AND  WM.  CURRY,  JUN.  &  CO.  DUBLIN  ; 
 WHITTAKER,  TREACHER,  &  ARNOT  ;  HAMILTON,  ADAMS,  &  CO. 
 AND  SIMPKIN  &  MARSHALL,  LONDON. 
 
 MDCCCXXXII 
 
INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY. 
 
 There  is  a  world  of  invisible  beings  among  us, 
 whose  influences  are  perpetually  acting  upon  our 
 minds,  directing  our  pursuits,  and  shaping  our  char¬ 
 acters.  Who  are  these?  They  are  not  celestial 
 intelligences,  employed  for  the  glory  of  God  in  the 
 service  of  man.  They  are  not  fallen  angels,  in  this 
 revolted  province  of  the  Almighty’s  empire,  permitted 
 to  tempt  and  harass  its  inhabitants  during  their  pe¬ 
 riod  of  trial  and  probation.  Nor  are  they  the  spirits 
 of  just  men  made  perfect,  who,  as  many  amiable  and 
 excellent  persons  (without  any  authority  from  reve¬ 
 lation)  suppose,  may  be  commissioned  to  watch  over 
 surviving  relatives,  comfort  them  in  trouble,  and  help 
 them  on  their  way  to  join  themselves  in  paradise. 
 No ;  they  are  none  of  these ; — yet  are  they  of  the 
 number  of  those,  who,  in  every  age  and  country,  have 
 lived  and  died,  not  for  themselves  alone,  but  for  their 
 contemporaries  and  posterity : — they  are  those,  in  a 
 word,  all  those,  who  are  recorded  in  history  for  their 
 good  or  evil  deeds ;  who  have  benefited  or  plagued 
 mankind  by  their  virtues  or  their  vices ; — benefited 
 them  by  discoveries  in  science,  inventions  in  art,  and 
 
V11L 
 
 own  great  Alfred,  inferior  only  to  the  first,  are  at 
 this  hour  teaching  statesmen  to  govern  realms  which 
 violence  has  subdued  or  liberty  recovered.  Solomon 
 and  Socrates,  Bacon  and  Newton  and  Locke,  are  daily 
 instructing  the  same  scholars,  in  wisdom,  science,  and 
 morals.  Demosthenes  and  Cicero  are  yet  the  mas¬ 
 ters  in  eloquence,  from  whose  tongues  enraptured 
 students  catch  64  thoughts  that  breathe,  and  words 
 that  burn,”  to  quicken  their  own  minds,  and  touch 
 with  fire  their  own  lips.  Homer  and  Virgil,  Tasso 
 and  Milton,  never  cease,  by  their  songs,  from  in¬ 
 spiring  youthful  bards,  in  all  ages,  who,  seeing  the 
 dreams  of  glory  of  their  predecessors  realized,  thence 
 augur  the  fulfilment  of  their  own.  That  the  living 
 population  of  this  very  kingdom  are,  in  a  great  mea¬ 
 sure,  what  they  are  by  what  they  have  learned ,  from 
 a  multitude  of  forerunners,  cannot  be  doubted  by  any 
 one  who  has  himself  had  intellectual  communion  with 
 the  great,  the  learned,  and  the  good  of  past  times, 
 and  ascertained  the  effects  of  such  fellowship  on  his 
 own  life. 
 
 As  children,  in  respect  to  their  intellectual  con¬ 
 dition,  are  born  blanks,  to  be  inscribed  with  the 
 characters  which  parents,  companions,  tutors,  and  the 
 state  of  society  around  them,  gradually  impress  upon 
 their  minds,  subject  to  the  modifications  which  are 
 produced  by  their  own  awakened  powers,  and  the 
 silent,  perhaps  unknown,  operations  of  God’s  Holy 
 Spirit  upon  their  hearts,  or  the  malignant  influences 
 of  Satan  and  his  emissaries  who  may  have  access  to 
 the  same, — as  children  do  thus,  in  a  great  degree, 
 grow  up  to  be  what  examples  and  circumstances  make 
 them,  so  is  every  generation  collectively  more  or  less 
 
IX 
 
 fashioned  according  to  the  precedents,  not  only  of 
 their  immediate  ancestors,  but  of  their  pre-existent 
 fellow-creatures  of  all  countries,  whose  history  and 
 literature  may  be  read  and  studied  in  their  own. 
 Utterly  savage  nations,  having  no  history  or  litera¬ 
 ture — no  commerce  with  an  invisible  world — are  but 
 what  their  fathers  have  been  before  them,  and  leave 
 nothing  to  their  posterity  beyond  what  they  them¬ 
 selves  inherited.  They  live  and  die  unimproved  by 
 the  experience  of  others,  and  unimproving  others  by 
 their  own ;  so  that  their  condition  is  only  stationary, 
 because  they  are  incapable  of  sinking  lower,  being 
 already  but  worms  in  the  dust  of  existence,  crawling 
 forth  by  accident,  and  hastily  retreating  into  darkness. 
 Such  seem  to  be  some  of  the  Caffre  hordes  of  South 
 Africa,  and  the  aborigines  of  New  Holland.  The 
 unchangeable  manners  of  barbarians  are  remarkably 
 exemplified  by  the  fact,  that  the  Greenlanders  and 
 the  Esquimaux,  residing  two  thousand  miles  apart, 
 have  the  same  language  with  little  variation,  the  same 
 shaped  clothing,  boats,  fishing-tackle,  and  construc¬ 
 tion  of  huts,  as  well  as  corresponding  superstitions, 
 in  lieu  of  religion.  Such  absolute  coincidence  be¬ 
 tween  two  originally  distinct  tribes  were  impossible, 
 (though  the  nature  of  their  several  climates  and  their 
 similar  occupations  would  induce  the  expectation  of 
 general  resemblance;)  but  here  that  coincidence  has 
 continued  to  exist,  while,  from  the  impassable  gulphs 
 and  deserts,  nine  months  of  the  year  more  frozen  than 
 the  Alps,  between  Greenland  and  Labrador,  no  in¬ 
 tercourse  can  have  taken  place  for  a  period  beyond 
 the  power  of  calculation.  Yet  even  these  savages, 
 before  Christianity  raised  them  to  the  rank  of  men, 
 
 A  3 
 
X 
 
 and  prepared  them  to  be  associates  with  angels,  and 
 worshippers  of  God  in  his  eternal  temple — were  su¬ 
 perior  in  ingenuity,  intelligence,  and  enterprise,  to 
 the  brutish  New  Hollander  and  the  idiotic  Bushman. 
 It  is  difficult  to  imagine  how  either  of  these  clans 
 could  ever  have  emerged  from  their  iceberg-state, 
 while  they  had  no  history,  no  literature,  no  commerce 
 with  an  invisible  world.  The  Gospel  brought  all 
 these  to  them,  and  thus  transformed  them  from  dark¬ 
 ness  to  light,  socially  and  intellectually,  as  well  as 
 turned  them  spiritually  from  the  power  of  Satan  to 
 serve  the  living  God. 
 
 Semi-barbarians  have  history  and  tradition,  truth 
 and  fable,  poetry  and  science,  of  some  kind,  mon¬ 
 strously  and  inextricably  blended.  Hence,  the  little 
 morality  to  be  traced  in  their  religion  is  so  atrociously 
 assimilated  with  impurity,  as  to  aggravate  every  evil, 
 while  it  is  almost  impotent  for  any  good.  Such  are 
 the  Hindoos  and  Chinese.  These  are  greater,  and 
 wiser,  and  in  some  respects  better,  for  what  has  been 
 done  for  them  by  the  dead  ;  though,  from  a  paralyzing 
 attachment  to  what  they  have  received,  they  neglect 
 to  add  to  it :  while,  not  continuing  the  process  begun 
 before  their  birth,  they  remain  wilfully  impracticable 
 subjects  for  superior  improvement.  After  all,  their 
 commerce  with  that  w'orld  of  invisible  beings  whose 
 influences  we  are  illustrating,  is  so  very  imperfect, 
 that  they  see  them  but  as  the  half-opened  eye  saw 
 6i  men  like  trees  walking.”  Their  records  of  events 
 and  ideas  of  truth  are  correspondingly  out  of  due 
 proportion ; — in  Hindostan  all  is  shadowy,  gigantic, 
 multitudinous;  in  China  all  is  puerile,  little,  and 
 fantastical. 
 
XI 
 
 Nations  a  little  higher  in  civilization  are  those 
 which  have  more  authentic  history,  more  elevated 
 poetry,  and  more  advanced  science.  Such  were  the 
 Saracens  of  the  middle  ages,  and  such  (though 
 miserably  degraded)  are  some  of  their  modern  de¬ 
 scendants.  These,  having  been  emancipated  from 
 the  mental  thraldom  of  idolatry,  and  having  received 
 the  first  great  truth  of  revelation,  that  there  is  but 
 one  God — C6  no  God  but  God,”  in  their  own  phrase 
 — though  that  glorious  confession  was  impiously 
 associated  with  the  most  flagrant  lie  of  their  false 
 teacher — t£  and  Mahomet  is  his  prophet,” — these, 
 we  say,  were  exalted  far  above  all  the  philosophers 
 and  devotees  of  the  eastern  world,  a  great  portion  of 
 which  they  were  enabled  to  subjugate  by  the  supe¬ 
 riority  in  arts,  not  less  than  in  arms,  which  they 
 derived  from  their  ancestors,  whose  deeds  were  cele¬ 
 brated  in  genuine  annals,  and  whose  works,  in  every 
 department  of  literature,  from  the  most  abstruse  to 
 the  most  fanciful,  are  yet  the  glory  of  Arabia  and 
 Persia. 
 
 Once  more :  in  Europe  there  are  many  kindred, 
 and  people,  and  tongues,  who  border  on  barbarism, 
 or  excel  in  civilization,  just  in  proportion  as  they 
 have  received  and  improved  the  lessons  of  wisdom 
 which  their  fathers  bequeathed  them, — and  not  their 
 fathers  only,  but  the  illustrious  of  all  nations,  ancient 
 and  modern,  whose  virtues,  whose  actions,  and  whose 
 talents,  have  left  indestructible  monuments  in  their 
 own  works,  or  in  the  works  of  others,  for  the  benefit 
 of  all  the  human  race  who  may  ever  have  access  to 
 the  knowledge  of  them.  It  would  not  be  difficult 
 to  arrange  and  class  the  states  of  Christendom  ac- 
 
cording  to  the  social  character  of  their  various  popu¬ 
 lations,  when  those  would  invariably  be  found  highest 
 in  intelligence,  who  have  the  largest  and  most  familiar 
 commerce  with  the  world  of  the  departed,  but  unfor¬ 
 gotten,  of  all  ages  and  countries.  Those,  too,  would 
 be  found  to  stand  highest,  not  only  in  intelligence, 
 but  in  comparative  virtue,  who  are  most  under  the 
 influence  of  the  best  examples ;  and  whose  laws,  in¬ 
 stitutions,  and  literature,  are  most  conformed  to  these. 
 Thus  Spain  and  Portugal  are  exceedingly  low,  be¬ 
 cause  almost  unacquainted  with  the  glories  of  Greece 
 and  Rome,  while  they  are  strangers  to  the  light  of 
 life  in  the  Holy  Scriptures.  Hence  (except  poetry) 
 they  have  hardly  any  literature  beyond  that  of  the 
 tales  of  chivalry,  and  little  religion  but  that  of  the 
 legends  of  saints. — In  Germany  there  is  a  resur¬ 
 rection  of  mind,  by  a  revival  of  research  among  the 
 treasures  of  neglected  learning  for  nobler  purposes 
 than  mere  verbal  criticism.  The  various  tribes  of 
 that  heterogeneous  empire  are  rising,  therefore,  to 
 moral  and  intellectual  grandeur,  by  their  renewed 
 communion  with  the  invisible  world,  and  the  conflict 
 and  collision  of  generous  spirits  awakened  by  that 
 circumstance,  and  which,  perhaps,  no  other  circum¬ 
 stance  could  have  awakened. — Italy,  rich  in  history, 
 poetry,  romance,  the  fine  arts,  the  liberal  sciences — 
 rich  in  inherited,  acquired,  and  accumulated  know¬ 
 ledge  of  every  kind,  except  the  true  knowledge  of 
 divine  truth, — Italy  rivals,  if  not  transcends,  all  con¬ 
 temporaries  in  productions  of  genius,  appealing  to 
 the  senses,  the  understanding,  the  imagination,  or 
 the  affections ;  yet  morally  she  is  on  a  level  with  the 
 most  debased,  by  servility  and  superstition,  because 
 
•  •  • 
 
 Xlll 
 
 she  substitutes  for  the  oracles  of  God  the  traditions 
 of  men — mercenary,  profligate,  atheistical  men. — 
 Of  France,  with  some  modifications  to  her  disparage¬ 
 ment,  and  a  few  to  her  advantage,  the  same  may  be 
 said  as  of  Italy. 
 
 Our  own  country,  formerly  deemed  as  waste  and 
 excommunicate  as  we  think  the  wilderness  of  Siberia 
 — now  neither  so  highly  exalted  by  the  examples 
 of  Greece  and  Rome  as  Italy,  nor  so  conceitedly 
 enslaved  by  them  as  France — has  nevertheless  been 
 sufficiently  swayed  to  have  greatly  profited  in  all 
 that  adorns  and  dignifies  man  in  political  and  civil 
 society;  while  she  has  enjoyed  one  blessing  superior 
 to  both,  and  which  has  placed  her  above  all  competi¬ 
 tion  in  true  glory  and  true  happiness.  Wickliffe, 
 before  the  Reformation,  loosed  the  word  of  God, 
 which  had  been  bound  almost  a  thousand  years;  the 
 way  was  thus  prepared  in  this  island  for  the  Refor¬ 
 mation;  and  that  Reformation,  by  the  freedom  which 
 it  brought  with  it — freedom  of  thought,  freedom  of 
 speech,  freedom  of  action ;  a  threefold  cord  sponta¬ 
 neously  twined  and  not  soon  broken — that  Refor¬ 
 mation,  by  the  freedom  which  it  brought  with  it, 
 caused  the  Gospel,  its  precepts  and  sanctions,  in 
 process  of  time,  so  to  mould  the  laws,  policy,  manners, 
 and  benevolent  institutions  of  our  countrymen,  as  to 
 make  the  latter  nationally,  if  not  individually,  more 
 upright,  honourable,  and  conscientious  in  principle, 
 than  can  be  said  of  any  other  people  in  existence. 
 The  history  of  the  last  half  century  is  proof  of 
 this ;  during  which,  whatever  have  been  the  sins  of 
 government  or  subjects,  in  particular  instances,  our 
 character  has  been  refining,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
 
XIV 
 
 rising  in  the  estimation  of  foreigners ;  till  our  ene¬ 
 mies  themselves,  in  extremities,  had  more  confidence 
 in  us  than  in  each  other ;  so  that,  without  boasting, 
 it  may  be  said,  both  in  the  literal  and  figurative 
 sense  of  the  terms — u  Beautiful  for  situation,  the 
 joy  of  the  whole  earth,  is  (Great  Britain)  on  the 
 sides  of  the  north.”  Psalm  xlviii.  2.  What  hath 
 made  her  so?  Her  children  have  had  free  and 
 happy  communication,  beyond  all  others,  with  the 
 world  of  invisible  beings  among  them,  consisting 
 not  only  of  heroes,  legislators,  princes,  philosophers, 
 poets,  painters,  sculptors,  historians,  orators,  and 
 pagan  worthies,  who  have  flourished  in  all  lands 
 since  the  flood — but  especially  of  patriarchs,  pro¬ 
 phets,  apostles,  martyrs,  and  righteous  men,  who 
 first  declared  the  truths  of  revelation  to  a  world 
 lying  in  wickedness,  or  have  sealed  with  their  blood, 
 and  exemplified  by  their  lives,  that  the  Gospel  of 
 Christ  is  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation  to  every 
 one  that  believeth. 
 
 An  imaginary,  but,  happily,  impossible  case,  may 
 illustrate  the  value  and  extent  of  that  influence  for 
 which  we  contend,  over  the  well-being  and  well-doing 
 of  consecutive  generations.  Were  all  knowledge, 
 remembrance,  and  record  of  past  ages,  obliterated — 
 all  books  of  science,  religion,  eloquence,  and  poesy, 
 destroyed — all  relics  of  ancient  sculpture  and  masonry 
 crumbled  to  dust — and  were  nothing  left  to  the  living 
 race  of  men  but  the  actual  information  which  they 
 had  individually  acquired  from  these  sources,  with 
 the  power  of  communicating  the  same,  in  their  own 
 words  only ,  to  their  offspring  and  contemporaries, — 
 it  cannot  be  questioned  that  society  would  abruptly 
 
XV 
 
 retrograde,  and  must  continue  to  do  so,  till  a  suffi¬ 
 cient  stock  of  documentary  literature  had  been  accu¬ 
 mulated  by  the  slow  labour  of  superior  minds,  through 
 many  a  century,  to  enable  posterity  again  to  advance 
 towards  the  point  from  which  the  fall — second  only 
 to  the  fall  in  Paradise — had  commenced.  It  is 
 manifest,  that  without  the  aid  of  those  writings  in 
 which  our  progenitors  have  perpetuated  their  intel¬ 
 lectual  existence  among  us,  it  would  be  impracticable 
 to  support  the  intellectual  progress  of  mankind,  as  we 
 now  see  it  accelerated  among  all  classes  of  people  in 
 this  country.  It  is  not  the  mere  hoards  committed 
 to  memory,  in  which  the  available  wealth  of  a  scholar 
 consists;  it  is  the  sum  of  all  the  facts,  examples, 
 and  lessons,  which  have  been  put  by  the  press  beyond 
 the  power  or  the  failure  of  memory,  to  which  he  has 
 access  at  every  moment,  and  on  every  emergency,  by 
 being  master  of  the  language  in  which  any  portion  of 
 these  may  be  included,  and  knowing  where  to  find 
 what  he  wants,  either  for  the  enlargement  of  his  own 
 stores,  or  the  communication  of  useful  instruction  to 
 others.  Between  the  means  of  diffusing  knowledge, 
 which  are  now  possessed  by  joint  inheritance,  and 
 those  which  would  be  limited  to  the  imperfect  recol¬ 
 lections  of  comparatively  a  few  persons,  in  the  event 
 which  we  have  supposed — the  extinction  of  all  written 
 and  monumental  records — there  would  be  precisely 
 the  relative  difference  that  exists  between  the  situa¬ 
 tion  of  a  noble  heir,  coming  to  the  whole  patrimony 
 and  honours  of  his  ancient  house,  and  that  of  a  younger 
 brother,  with  a  portion,  payable  indeed  out  of  the 
 estate,  but  not  equal  to  one  year’s  rental,  and  the 
 rank  of  his  lineage  allowed  to  him  only  by  courtesy. 
 
XVI 
 
 To  this  world  of  invisible  beings — in  some  respects 
 the  good  and  evil  genii  of  the  living,  with  whom  these 
 hold  converse  by  what  is  known  of  them  through 
 books,  though  they  themselves  are  unconscious  of 
 the  dominion  which  they  exercise — like  the  stars,  in 
 their  guidance  of  the  mariner  on  the  deep,  the  moon 
 in  her  government  of  the  tide,  and  the  sun  in  his 
 reign  over  animal  and  vegetable  existence, — to  this 
 world  of  invisible  beings,  there  are  continual  ac¬ 
 cessions  of  many  temporary,  and  a  few  imperishable 
 names,  consisting  of  every  one  who  leaves  a  memorial 
 of  himself,  from  which  posterity  receives  either  a 
 transient,  or  more  enduring  impression.  The  mul¬ 
 titude  of  these  pass  away  from  ideal,  as  soon,  or  even 
 sooner,  than  they  did  from  real  existence;  but  in 
 every  age,  at  this  advanced  period  of  civilization, 
 there  are  some ,  who,  having  once  lived,  never  die, 
 in  the  perpetuated  consequences,  whether  good  or 
 evil,  of  their  bodily  appearance,  and  intercourse  with 
 their  species.  Now,  these  more  effectually  colour 
 and  shape  the  character  of  society,  than  they  could, 
 if  their  disembodied  spirits  were  permitted  to  hold 
 communion  with  the  living,  and  suggest,  control,  or 
 inspire  them  with  the  same  feelings  and  sentiments 
 which  their  memory  or  their  productions  absolutely 
 do  impress.  How  little  could  the  soul  of  Milton 
 have  done,  had  it  been  walking  to  and  fro,  and  go¬ 
 ing  up  and  down  in  the  earth,  during  the  hundred 
 and  fifty  years  since  his  death — how  little  could  it 
 have  done,  by  awakening  genius,  and  guiding  its 
 aspirations,  in  a  few  solitary  individuals,  (without 
 ascribing  to  it  inconceivable  and  miraculous  powers,) 
 in  comparison  with  what  that  soul,  embodied  in  divine 
 
XVII 
 
 poetry,  has  actually  done  for  thousands  and  tens  of 
 thousands,  by  ennobling,  adorning,  and  enriching 
 the  meanest  readers  with  a  measure  of  the  grandeur, 
 beauty,  and  wealth  of  his  own  high  intellect,  which 
 (fixed  in  the  eternity  of  verse)  can  no  more  be  ex¬ 
 hausted  by  communicating  itself  than  the  sun  by 
 shining,  or  the  atmosphere  by  giving  breath !  Could 
 the  magnificent  spirit  that  dictated  the  numbers  of 
 Paradise  Lost,  from  the  lips  of  <£  the  poet  blind  yet 
 bold” — could  that  spirit,  by  any  imaginable  process 
 of  secret  communication,  through  half  a  human  life, 
 have  raised  in  one  mind  that  exaltation  of  feeling,  to 
 which  the  perusal  of  the  first  book  alone  must  carry 
 every  mind  of  sufficient  capacity  to  comprehend  it  ? 
 No,  certainly;  for  to  have  done  this,  the  visitant 
 must  have  inspired  his  disciple  with  the  power  of  pro¬ 
 ducing  a  poem  equal  to  that,  the  mere  perusal  of 
 which  gives  any  body  the  means  of  enjoying,  at  once, 
 and  without  cost,  all  the  fruits  of  all  the  labours  of 
 thought  that  produced  the  original. 
 
 The  last  forty  years  have  added  more  to  the  class 
 of  invisibles  whom  we  recognize  here  than  any  for¬ 
 mer  period  of  thrice  that  term ;  while  the  press,  by 
 its  everlasting  operations,  in  every  edition  of  an 
 author’s  works,  renews  the  lease  of  each  of  the  fra¬ 
 ternity  of  every  foregoing  era,  who,  in  his  pages,  are 
 made  to  live,  and  move,  and  have  a  being,  among 
 us.  Numerous,  indeed,  are  the  warriors,  politicians, 
 philosophers,  and  authors,  who  have  flourished  since 
 the  commencement  of  the  French  revolution;  and  of 
 whom  it  cannot  be  doubted,  that  they  are  destined 
 to  go  down  to  remote  posterity  as  angels  of  light,  or 
 spirits  of  darkness,  assuming  the  forms  of  such  to 
 
XVlil 
 
 those  who  may  be  deluded  by  them,  till  the  con¬ 
 summation  of  all  things ;  when,  at  the  general  resur¬ 
 rection,  all  distinctions  of  rank,  age,  and  country, 
 shall  be  obliterated, — all  generations  shall  be  contem¬ 
 porary,  and  congregated,  to  receive,  not  in  mass, 
 but  individually,  as  if  each  stood  alone  before  the 
 Judge  of  quick  and  dead,  44  the  deeds  done  in  the 
 body.”  As  a  part  of  these,  for  a  deed  is  never  done 
 till  it  has  ceased  in  its  consequences — long  after 
 the  stone  has  sunk  to  the  bottom,  never  to  rise 
 again,  the  surface  of  the  stream  is  troubled  with  the 
 whirls  of  its  plunge — as  a  part  of  these,  will  be 
 reckoned  all  the  evil  thoughts  and  unholy  passions 
 excited  by  profligate  writers,  in  the  hearts  and  minds 
 of  persons  who  lived  centuries  after  their  decease ; 
 with  all  the  ambitious,  vindictive,  and  oppressive  ac¬ 
 tions,  which  the  examples  of  successful  tyrants  and 
 heroic  destroyers  of  their  species  have  tempted  the 
 latest  inhabitants  of  the  earth  to  perpetrate,  in  imita¬ 
 tion  of  them,  and  under  the  sanction  of  their  autho¬ 
 rity.  Nor  will  the  good  44  deeds  done  in  the  body” 
 terminate  at  their  seeming  accomplishment,  but  shall 
 last,  in  their  happy  and  diversified  issues,  through 
 all  ages,  on  all  individuals  who  may  be  affected  and 
 ameliorated  by  them.  Oh  then,  of  what  infinite 
 importance  must  it  be  to  those,  who,  when  they  die, 
 do  not  44  all  die,”  that  what  they  leave  behind  to 
 immortalize  them  among  men,  and  make  men  re¬ 
 semble  themselves,  should  be  that  which  will  benefit, 
 in  the  highest  degree,  the  greatest  number  of  their 
 successors  and  imitators  ! 
 
 To  win  a  name  and  rank  in  this  world  of  invisible 
 beings,  has  been  the  ambition  of  the  mightiest  minds 
 
XIX 
 
 that  ever  felt  houses  of  clay  too  narrow  for  their 
 dwelling,  and  life  too  brief  for  the  spirit  within  them. 
 This  might  be  illustrated  by  all  history  and  biography 
 extant,  as  well  as  proved  by  the  thoughts  of  many 
 great  hearts  long  perished  in  the  dust,  whose  secrets 
 have  been  revealed.  These,  therefore,  have  counted 
 no  sacrifice  too  dear,  that  they  might  obtain  the 
 prize  for  which  they  contended,  against  time,  and 
 death,  and  fortune,  and  each  other.  It  seldom  oc¬ 
 curs,  then,  that  the  achievements  or  the  productions 
 of  individuals,  in  whom  existed  no  intense  degree  of 
 the  desire  to  be  known  and  honoured  in  after  years, 
 have  secured  to  them  that  moral  and  influential  im¬ 
 mortality  of  which  we  treat.  More  frequently  the 
 sufferings  of  unambitious  personages,  whom  tyranny 
 and  persecution,  for  their  worth,  or  the  vengeance  of 
 justice,  for  their  enormous  crimes,  have  dragged 
 into  the  light  of  history,  have  thereby  become  ex¬ 
 amples  or  warnings.  But  it  is  the  rarest  of  all  cases, 
 that  those  who  have  simply  filled  up  the  measure  of 
 their  days,  in  the  humble  yet  honourable  performance 
 of  the  duties  that  belonged  to  a  private  station,  which 
 required,  indeed,  no  splendid  qualifications,  but,  what 
 is  far  more  effective,  though  to  be  acquired  by  all, 
 great  grace  to  fulfil — it  is  the  rarest  of  all  cases, 
 that  such  have  gone  down  into  the  darkness  of  the 
 grave,  whither  the  eye  of  affection  had  followed  them, 
 and  then  turned  away  for  ever,  and  yet  have  left 
 an  unexpected  light,  like  an  undecaying  sunset,  be¬ 
 hind  them ;  in  the  comfort  of  which,  not  relatives 
 and  friends  only,  but  strangers  and  foreigners,  and 
 many  born  in  distant  ages  after  them,  have  delighted 
 to  walk. 
 
XX 
 
 Such  a  one,  however,  it  may  be  presumed,  was 
 Mrs.  Susan  Huntington,  whose  Memoiys  and 
 Remains  are  presented  in  this  Volume,  not  for  the 
 first  time,  nor  probably  for  the  last  by  many  times, 
 to  the  British  public.  She  is  yet  too  little  known, 
 either  in  her  own  land  or  ours,  for  the  most  expe¬ 
 rienced  and  sagacious  critic  to  pronounce,  whether 
 she  will  speedily  disappear  with  the  millions  among 
 whom  she  was,  while  living,  but  a  unit,  or  continue 
 to  shine  alone,  as  the  survivor  and  representative  of 
 unremembered  millions,  who,  like  her,  having  served 
 their  generations,  fell  on  sleep,  and  have  seen  cor¬ 
 ruption,  dissolution,  and  extinction  of  memory  itself 
 from  the  earth.  It  may  now  be  deemed  an  even 
 point,  whether,  embalmed  within  these  leaves,  which 
 are  sweet  with  the  odour  of  sanctity,  she  shall  con¬ 
 tinue  to  bless  the  Christian  world  wherever  the  lan¬ 
 guage  of  her  mother  is  spoken ;  or  whether  the  par¬ 
 tiality  of  friendship  has  too  fondly,  not  too  highly, 
 estimated  the  precious  fragments  of  her  journals  and 
 letters,  endeared  as  they  were  to  her  personal  ac¬ 
 quaintance,  but,  possibly,  not  capable  of  exciting  in 
 the  breasts  of  strangers  corresponding  interest  in 
 what  she  was,  what  she  did,  what  she  suffered,  and 
 what  she  has  written.  That  the  point  should  be 
 already  even  in  the  balance,  is  so  far  in  her  favour  as 
 to  be  proof  positive,  that  extraordinary  unction  and 
 piety,  combined  with  talent  of  no  mean,  though  cer¬ 
 tainly  no  ostentatious,  kind,  must  characterize  her 
 compositions.  What,  therefore,  has  raised  her  so 
 early  ((  above  a  vulgar  fate,”  may,  in  its  progress, 
 at  length  fix  her  in  holy  and  abiding  distinction 
 among  the  just,  whose  memory  is  blessed,  and  the 
 
XXI 
 
 good,  whose  examples  are  supposed  to  make  the 
 world  better  than  they  found  it ; — yes,  and  the  world 
 will  be  better,  in  no  small  degree,  than  this  excellent 
 woman  either  found  it,  or  made  it,  or  left  it  at  her 
 decease,  if,  by  the  perusal  of  these  pages,  the  hum¬ 
 ble  Christian  is  encouraged,  the  weak  one  strength¬ 
 ened,  the  mourner  comforted,  or  the  poor  made  rich 
 in  faith ;  and  it  is  the  nature  of  the  volume  before 
 us,  under  the  blessing  of  God,  to  do  this,  and  much 
 more,  for  its  readers,  according  to  their  circumstances, 
 wants,  or  temptations. 
 
 In  Mrs.  Huntington,  we  have  an  exemplification 
 of  Christian  character  in  the  female  sex,  rising  into 
 grace,  expanding  into  beauty,  and  flourishing  in  use¬ 
 fulness,  from  infancy  to  youth,  and  from  youth  to 
 womanhood ;  then ,  without  reaching  old  age,  trans¬ 
 lated  to  Paradise,  66  like  a  tree  planted  by  the  rivers 
 of  water,”  that  brought  forth  its  fruit  in  due  season, 
 and  whose  leaf  also  withered  not;  being  cut  down 
 in  its  prime  and  remembered  only  as  the  glory  of 
 the  place  where  it  grew.  There  were  no  extra¬ 
 ordinary  incidents  in  her  brief  existence ;  she  occu¬ 
 pied  no  eminent  station  in  society ;  she  was  endowed 
 with  no  splendid  talents;  hut  on  account  of  these 
 very  deficiencies,  (defects  they  were  not,)  something 
 more  excellent ,  yet  attainable  by  all ,  having  been 
 found  in  her,  she  may  be  presented  as  a  model  to 
 others  passing  through  the  same  ordinary  circum¬ 
 stances,  whereby  they  may  form  themselves  to  meet 
 every  change,  till  the  last ;  and  in  that  last,  be  per¬ 
 fectly  prepared  for  a  state  beyond  the  possibility  of 
 change  for  ever.  Having  left  no  memorials  of  her¬ 
 self  which  can  otherwise  attract  curiosity,  or  com- 
 
xxu 
 
 mand  admiration,  than  to  cause  those  who  have 
 patience  to  contemplate  her  quiet  course,  to  magnify 
 the  grace  of  God  in  her,  these  memorials,  from 
 wanting  every  other  interest  but  the  best,  will  be 
 more  estimable,  because  more  applicable  to  the  per¬ 
 sonal  feelings,  conflicts,  and  duties,  of  the  greatest 
 number  of  readers.  What  was  good  for  her,  must 
 be  good  for  them ;  what  she  was ,  they  may  be ;  and 
 what  she  is,  they  may  become. 
 
 The  memoirs  and  writings  of  great  and  gifted 
 personages  are  undoubtedly  more  stimulating  than 
 those  of  humbler  and  better  beings ;  but  they  are  so 
 much  beyond  general  experience  and  sympathy,  that 
 to  most  who  peruse  them,  they  are  history  and  ro¬ 
 mance,  rather  than  real  and  every-day  life.  Hence 
 such  works  are  esteemed  and  enjoyed  in  proportion 
 as  they  excite  the  imagination,  or  exercise  the  in¬ 
 tellect,  rather  than  as  profitable  illustrations  of  what 
 we  ourselves  may  perform,  or  attain  by  imitation. 
 Yet,  even  in  the  biography  of  heroes  and  kings, 
 philosophers  and  poets — minds  of  the  first  order, 
 men  of  the  first  magnitude — the  most  delightful 
 passages  are  those  in  which  we  can  claim  kindred 
 with  them,  as  beings  of  like  passions  with  ourselves, 
 in  the  retirement  of  domestic  life,  in  their  bosom 
 joys  and  sorrows ;  compassed  with  infirmities,  on  the 
 bed  of  sickness,  and  in  the  agony  of  death ;  acting, 
 feeling,  thinking,  as  we  ourselves  might  have  done, 
 or  may  hereafter  be  soothed  by  the  recollection  that 
 so  they  did.  In  truth,  all  that  is  common  to  all,  is 
 of  equal,  intense,  and  eternal  importance  to  each. 
 Of  this — this  that  is  most  common,  this  that  is 
 most  important — the  volume  before  us  is  full ;  pre- 
 
XX111 
 
 senting,  in  succession,  the  trials  of  life,  from  child¬ 
 hood  to  middle  age,  in  nearly  every  form  in  which 
 the  mind,  the  affections,  the  body,  or  the  soul — the 
 mortal  and  the  immortal  faculties — can  encounter, 
 endure,  or  overcome  them :  from  the  exhilarating 
 transport  with  which  in  health,  and  amidst  felicity, 
 we  view  the  earth  full  of  the  goodness,  and  the  hea¬ 
 vens  covered  with  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  to  that 
 anguish  of  heart,  under  the  burthen  of  which  we 
 hear  nothing  but  the  groans  of  creation,  and  see  no¬ 
 thing  but  the  vices  and  miseries  of  our  species. 
 
 Mrs.  Huntington’s  experience,  here  recorded  in 
 her  genuine  Letters,  written  for  the  eye  of  friendship 
 only,  and  her  Diaries,  written  for  the  eye  of  her  own 
 spirit,  in  which  it  might  see,  and  from  time  to  time 
 compare  itself  with  r'Jself,  more  perfectly  than  it  could 
 in  the  mirror  of  xiiemory — her  experience,  thus  re¬ 
 corded,  gives  to  the  reader  a  peculiarly  intimate  and 
 affecting  knowledge  of  the  most  secret  emotions  of 
 her  individual  heart ;  yet  not  to  gratify  impertinent, 
 indelicate  curiosity;  for  such  is  the  nature  of  these 
 discoveries,  that  they  can  be  interesting  and  intelli¬ 
 gible  to  those  alone,  who  have  proved  the  same  dis¬ 
 couragements  and  revivals  in  following  hard  after 
 the  Lord,  and  serving  him  in  the  beauties  of  holi¬ 
 ness.  To  such,  the  Volume  on  which  we  are  enter¬ 
 ing  will  be  a  treasury  of  things  new  and  old ;  the 
 more  valued  the  more  deeply  it  is  searched,  and 
 the  more  attractive,  in  proportion  as  it  is  studied  for 
 purposes  of  edification.  In  every  page  will  be  found 
 some  lesson  or  precept,  some  warning  or  precedent, 
 to  guide  the  Christian  inquirer  in  nearly  every  cir¬ 
 cumstance  of  bodily,  mental,  or  spiritual  difficulty. 
 
XXIV 
 
 She  had  enjoyed,  and  she  had  suffered,  all  the  com¬ 
 forts  arising  out  of  the  endearing  relationships  of  life, 
 and  all  the  anguish  which  the  bereavement  of  each 
 of  these  in  turn  could  inflict.  Parents,  sisters,  hus¬ 
 band,  children,  she  had  known,  and  loved,  and  lost, 
 and  long  lamented  too;  yet  had  she  found  the  con¬ 
 solations  of  the  Gospel  abounding  amidst  her  deepest 
 afflictions.  Her  love  and  resignation  to  Him  who 
 gave  and  took  away,  at  his  pleasure,  but  for  her 
 profit,  continued  to  increase,  as  her  affections  were 
 loosened  below,  and  fixed  on  things  above,  while 
 the  very  ties  that  once  bound  her  to  earth  were 
 employed  by  the  hand  of  mercy  to  draw  her  up  to 
 heaven. 
 
 There  is  a  refined  and  elevated  sympathy  awakened 
 x  towards  the  dead,  whom  we  thubyecognize  only  as  of 
 the  ineffable  number  of  influential  beings,  whose  lives 
 are  prolonged  in  their  history,  and  whose  souls  may 
 be  said  to  transmigrate  through  the  persons  of  their 
 imitators ;  or  whose  thoughts,  enshrined  in  their 
 writings,  are  communicated  to  innumerable  minds, 
 like  sun-beams  refracted  on  rain-drops,  or  gliding 
 through  colourless  crystals.  This  ennobling  sym¬ 
 pathy,  by  indulgence,  grows  into  an  affection,  and 
 that  affection  into  a  virtue,  because  it  is  attached 
 to  virtue  as  its  object,  and.  is  the  parent  of  virtue  in 
 ourselves,  when  we  are  made  conformable  to  that 
 which  we  love  and  admire.  But  though  the  present 
 Volume  may  be  a  blessing  to  all  into  whose  hands  it 
 may  come,  and  to  whose  hearts  it  may  speak  in  that 
 pure  and  beautiful  language  which  the  spirit  of  the 
 writer  herself  would  hardly  disown  in  her  beati¬ 
 fied  state;  yet  to  the  better  sex  especially — to  the 
 
XXV 
 
 young,  the  beloved,  the  betrothed,  the  wedded,  and 
 the  bereaved  among  them,  this  book  deserves  to  be 
 a  manual  for  daily  perusal  and  nightly  meditation. 
 
 All  that  a  daughter,  or  a  sister,  a  wife,  a  mother,  or 
 a  widow  can  feel,  is  either  briefly  but  clearly,  or 
 largely  and  glowingly  set  forth.  Her  simple  and 
 unreserved  confessions  will  be  found  the  more  im¬ 
 mediately  profitable,  because  nothing  happened  to 
 her  beyond  what  may  come  to  each  of  themselves, 
 in  the  ordinary  course  of  providence.  Notwith¬ 
 standing  her  extraordinary  natural  vivacity,  she  was, 
 from  an  early  age,  such  a  sufferer,  by  the  martyrdom 
 of  sensibilities  too  exquisitely  touched  by  joy  or  woe, 
 that  she  might  say,  <fi  I  die  daily yet  held  she  fast, 
 and  faster  she  held  it  to  the  end,  the  hope  which 
 she  had  in  the  Gospel.  This  alone  sustained  her 
 under  the  heaviest  dispensations,  and  this  bore  her 
 through  them  triumphantly  at  last. — ce  I  delight  to 
 do  thy  will,  O  God.”  This  phrase  expresses  the 
 sum  of  her  character,  as  here  exhibited:  this  was  the 
 burthen  of  her  prayers,  the  object  of  her  faith,  the 
 prize  of  her  high  calling  in  Christ  Jesus  her  Lord; 
 and  this,  we  may  believe,  is  now  the  crown  of  her 
 rejoicing  in  his  presence.  To  mothers,  but  above  ‘  ‘ . 
 all,  to  widowed  mothers,  these  pages  may  be  ear¬ 
 nestly  recommended  for  diligent  study ;  and  if  they 
 have  the  happy  effect  of  forming  one  mother  like 
 their  author,  they  may  be  deemed  a  greater  bequest 
 to  a  world  lying  in  wickedness,  than  a  thousand  ela¬ 
 borate  productions  of  unsanctified  genius,  which, 
 while  they  elevate  man  as  an  intellectual  being,  too 
 often  alienate  him  from  God,  as  a  being  in  search  of 
 knowledge  at  the  price  of  death. 
 
 B 
 
 % 
 
 ■ 
 
 41 
 
XXVI 
 
 There  is  a  perceptible  gradation  in  these  Letters 
 and  Diaries,  showing  the  growth  of  the  writer  in 
 wisdom  and  in  grace ;  it  may  be  added,  also,  in  favour 
 with  God  and  man.  The  fastidious  reader,  who  may 
 only  tolerate  the  compositions  of  her  youth,  and  think 
 them  too  prematurely  good,  to  hope  for  any  amend¬ 
 ment  afterwards,  will  feel  more  and  more  conciliated 
 and  charmed  with  those  written  during  her  happy 
 marriage ;  and  still  more  deeply  and  devoutly  will  he 
 find  himself  enchained  in  attention  by  those  of  her 
 mournful,  yet  rejoicing  widowhood.  Her  mind  ap¬ 
 pears  to  have  expanded,  her  heart  softened,  and  her 
 piety  purified  to  the  end;  the  energy  and  eloquence 
 of  her  effusions — for  such  are  all  her  reliques  here, 
 the  overflowings  of  a  soul  poured  out  into  the  bosom 
 of  friendship,  or  before  her  God — are  increased,  and 
 appear  at  the  very  height  in  her  latest  days.  But 
 her  sun  went  down  suddenly.  When  she  was  most 
 fitted  for  earth,  and  for  doing  her  Father’s  will  upon 
 it,  she  was  quite  matured  for  heaven;  and  thither 
 removed  by  an  excruciating  illness,  wherein  she  glo¬ 
 rified  God  by  the  death  which  she  died,  as  she  had 
 done  by  the  life  which  she  lived. 
 
 Towards  the  close  of  any  book  of  biography,  in 
 which  we  have  been  peculiarly  interested,  there  is 
 something  of  apprehension  experienced,  as  we  ap¬ 
 proach  the  last  pages;  we  know  the  catastrophe 
 which  consummates  every  work  of  the  kind,  because 
 the  same  is  the  consummation  of  every  human  life. 
 Whose  heart  has  not  palpitated,  whose  hand  has 
 not  trembled,  as  if  it  felt  a  feebler  pulse  at  turning 
 over  leaf  after  leaf?  and  whose  eye  has  not  keenly, 
 eagerly,  yet  afraid  and  revoltingly,  glanced  on  to  the 
 
XXV11 
 
 very  line  in  which  the  last  agony  is  described,  as 
 though  it  saw  the  dying  look  of  one  who  had  been 
 “  very  pleasant  in  life,”  and  from  whom,  even  u  in 
 the  volume  of  the  hook,”  it  was  hard  to  he  divided? 
 Yea,  and  we  read,  with  prophetic  anticipation,  the 
 record  of  the  last  moments  of  our  endeared  com¬ 
 panion,  as  one  warning  more  of  our  own  being  so 
 much  the  nearer  than  when  we  first  became  ac¬ 
 quainted,  though  it  were  but  a  few  days  ago.  In 
 the  instance  of  early  mortality  before  us,  those  who 
 have  reached  the  eminence  of  life,  and  passed  their 
 half  century,  will  naturally  look  back  on  a  time, 
 when  they  lived,  and  moved,  and  had  a  being,  while 
 she  had  none ;  and  still  they  live,  and  move,  and 
 have  their  being,  when  she  is  no  more.  She  has 
 been  born,  grown  up,  and  blessedly  fulfilled  the  pur¬ 
 pose  for  which  a  body  and  breath  were  given  to  her, 
 and  is  gone  into  eternity  within  the  date  of  our  re¬ 
 membered  and  continued  existence.  The  whole 
 circle  of  her  life  has  been  enclosed  in  the  yet  unper¬ 
 fected  compass  of  our  own.  And  where  is  she  ? 
 and  whither  are  we  going?  Death,  to  survivors,  is 
 but  the  disappearance  of  one  among  those  on  whom 
 we  are  accustomed  to  look  with  indifference  or  affec¬ 
 tion,  according  to  our  degree  of  relationship  with 
 them.  What  death  is  to  the  departed,  those  who 
 have  not  experienced  it  can  no  more  comprehend, 
 than  we  ourselves  could  have  anticipated  our  present 
 state,  had  we  been  pre-existent  spirits  in  another, 
 and  threatened,  for  some  breach  of  duty,  with  the 
 punishment  of  being  born  into  a  world,  where  we 
 should  be  confined  in  “  houses  of  clay,  which  are 
 crushed  before  the  moth,”  and  suffer  hunger,  thirst, 
 
 B  2 
 
XXV111 
 
 pain,  anxiety,  and  £t  all  the  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to.” 
 Both  kinds  of  knowledge  will  soon  be  ours.  Angels 
 cannot  conceive  what  it  is  to  be  man ;  to  know  that, 
 in  a  manner  which  Deity  itself  could  not  otherwise 
 know  it,  the  Son  of  God  became  man ;  and  through 
 his  humiliation  to  our  estate,  we  may  be  made  par¬ 
 takers  of  the  divine  nature.  To  this  end  he  was 
 born,  and  for  this  cause  came  he  into  the  world ;  to 
 the  same  end,  and  for  the  same  cause,  the  lives  and 
 deaths  of  those  in  whom  the  glorious  object  of  his  in¬ 
 carnation  was  accomplished,  are  held  in  remembrance; 
 that  by  their  examples  we  may  be  led  to  become  fol¬ 
 lowers  of  them  who  through  faith  and  patience  in¬ 
 herit  the  promises.  Among  these  we  cannot  hesitate 
 to  place  the  amiable  and  exalted  woman,  whose  name 
 and  worth,  as  illustrated  in  these  pages,  will  not  soon 
 be  forgotten. 
 
 Mrs.  Huntington’s  Letters  and  Diaries,  which 
 compose  the  main  part,  the  best  part,  indeed  the 
 only  part  of  the  volume  which  warrants  its  publica¬ 
 tion,  are  principally  valuable  because  they  are  ge¬ 
 nuine  and  true,  in  the  best  sense  of  those  terms ; — 
 genuine ,  as  written  for  the  sole  purpose  of  conveying 
 her  sentiments  to  others,  or  preserving  memorandums 
 for  her  own  self-improvement,  without  any  sinister 
 reference  to  the  possibility  of  their  ever  being  laid 
 before  the  world ;  and  true ,  because  they  express  the 
 real,  present  feelings  of  the  author,  under  various 
 trials,  in  which  heart  and  mind  were  equally  and  se¬ 
 verely  exercised  from  time  to  time.  In  these  inge¬ 
 nuous  and  unsophisticated  productions,  there  is  little 
 either  of  the  warmth  or  colouring  of  imagination;  no 
 brilliancy  of  ornament;  few  descriptions  of  natural 
 
XXIX 
 
 scenery;  the  narratives  are  brief,  except  the  account 
 of  the  last  hours  of  her  husband ;  but  that  indeed, 
 penned  under  the  inspiration  of  the  subject,  displays 
 a  power  and  pathos,  rarely  exhibited  on  other  occa¬ 
 sions.  Her  English  is  remarkably  pure,  for  the 
 language  of  an  American ;  having  few  national  cor¬ 
 ruptions  of  phrase,  or  uncouth  words,  equally  shock¬ 
 ing  to  the  eye  and  the  ear :  the  diction  is  flowing, 
 and  her  compositions  in  general  are  distinguished  by 
 maturity  of  thought,  and  correctness  of  style,  with¬ 
 out  extravagance  in  the  one,  or  efflorescence  in  the 
 other. 
 
 The  blossoms  of  her  mind  were  like  the  delicate 
 bloom  of  wheat,  not  the  pageantry  of  flowers ;  they 
 were  the  promise  of  precious  seed,  good  for  food ; 
 not  the  evanescent  attractions  of  the  butterfly  and 
 the  bee.  The  Letters  and  Diaries  grow  more  ten¬ 
 derly,  and  at  length  more  intensely  interesting,  as 
 the  sorrows  and  troubles  of  the  writer  increase.  The 
 sufferer  herself,  indeed,  grows  brighter  and  brighter 
 to  the  eye  of  the  reader,  as  she  passes  through  the 
 fires,  glorifies  God  in  them,  and  more  deeply  receives 
 the  impression  of  the  divine  image.  We  must  have 
 delineations  of  human  feelings  and  infirmities,  to 
 touch  our  hearts,  in  works  of  this  kind ;  or  we  should 
 soon  be  weary  of  reading  meditations,  and  precepts, 
 however  excellent  in  matter,  and  unexceptionable  in 
 delivery.  Were  the  writer  of  this  introduction  to 
 describe  Mrs.  Huntington’s  character,  as  it  has  been 
 fixed  in  his  mind,  by  the  perusal  of  this  volume,  he 
 should  prefer  her  own  description  of  Harriet  Newell’s, 
 as  fixed  upon  her  mind,  after  reading  the  memoirs  of 
 that  illustrious  handmaid  of  the  Lord,  who  died  as  a 
 
XXX 
 
 missionary  in  India,  at  an  earlier  age  than  Mrs.  H. 
 herself: — <£  Such  unreserved  and  disinterested  de¬ 
 votedness  to  the  cause  of  Christ,  in  so  young  a  person, 
 appears  very  extraordinary  in  these  times  of  religious 
 indifference  and  sloth.  There  was  an  elevation  and 
 spirituality  in  her  character,  seldom  met  with  in  the 
 present  day.  No  one  can  help  admiring  her  excel¬ 
 lence.  Christians  will  be  humbled  by  its  contempla¬ 
 tion,  and  stimulated  to  greater  activity  in  the  service 
 of  Christ.” 
 
 Mrs.  Huntington  had  always  a  great  desire  to 
 serve  the  cause  of  God,  and  benefit  her  fellow-crea¬ 
 tures.  She  did  both,  in  an  eminent  degree,  accord¬ 
 ing  to  her  limited  means,  and  in  her  narrow  circle, 
 
 o 
 
 during  her  brief  life.  In  this  respect,  however,  her 
 heart’s  desire  and  prayer  has  been  granted,  in  a  man¬ 
 ner  which  she  never  could  have  contemplated.  She 
 is  already  one  of  those  invisibles,  whose  thoughts 
 perished  not  in  the  day  when  their  bodies  died. 
 Through  the  medium  of  her  Letters  and  Diaries, 
 here  rescued  from  oblivion,  she  may  continue  to  serve 
 the  cause  of  God,  and  benefit  thousands  of  her  con¬ 
 temporaries,  if  not  millions  of  her  successors. 
 
 Returning  to  the  idea  with  which  this  Essay 
 commenced, — not  by  the  invisible  agents  alone, 
 whose  memory  and  works  are  preserved  to  exercise 
 unceasing  influence,  in  civilized  countries,  over  suc¬ 
 cessive  generations,  is  such  influence  monopolized. 
 Every  individual  who  has  been  born  into  the  world, 
 and  lived  long  enough  to  excite  any  emotion  of  love, 
 antipathy,  or  fear,  in  the  breast  of  another,  has  done 
 something  towards  making  the  world  of  the  living 
 what  it  is;  and  every  one  that  dies,  after  having 
 
XXXI 
 
 filled  his  station  in  society,  however  humble,  leaves 
 the  world  something  different  from  what  it  would  have 
 been  had  he  never  existed.  Not  one  of  us  knows 
 how  far  our  personal  influence  extends  over  those 
 around  us ;  much  less  how  remotely  what  we  have 
 been,  and  done,  and  said,  may  affect  those  that  come 
 after,  when  we  are  dead  and  forgotten;  like  the  cedars 
 of  Lebanon  that  flourished  before  the  days  of  David 
 and  Solomon — which,  though  felled  and  wrought  for 
 ten  thousand  common  uses,  were  yet  the  progenitors 
 of  trees  from  whose  timbers  the  temple  of  God  was 
 framed  and  beautified.  We  have,  therefore,  not 
 only  each  our  own,  but  each  the  welfare  of  others,  to 
 care  for — not  to  do  them  evil,  at  any  rate ;  and  by  all 
 means  possible  to  do  them  good.  How  then  ought 
 we  to  act  and  speak  before  men,  that  we  be  not  con¬ 
 demned  before  God  !  One  talent  well  employed, 
 (as  in  the  case  of  the  excellent  person  whose  Memoirs 
 we  are  recommending,)  maybe  made  eternally  bene¬ 
 ficial  to  the  souls  of  those  whom,  though  we  never 
 knew  them  as  contemporaries,  we  may  be  glad  to 
 know  and  to  love  in  that  world  where  there  is  no  suc¬ 
 cession  of  coming  and  going  generations,  but  all  who 
 live  shall  live  for  ever  there. 
 
 In  the  volume  before  us,  there  are  many  brief 
 sentences,  which  will  find  their  way  into  prepared 
 bosoms,  with  a  power  and  a  glory  only  short  of  reve¬ 
 lation  ;  and  these  will  be  made  blessings  inestimable 
 to  those  who  receive  them.  From  the  entrance  of 
 one  or  another  of  these  into  the  heart,  many  a  sinner 
 here,  or  at  the  ends  of  the  earth,  in  the  present  age, 
 or  a  century  to  come,  may  remember  the  moment  of 
 awakening  that  led  to  conversion — conversion  that 
 
XXX11 
 
 saved  his  soul  from  death,  and  covered  his  multitude 
 of  sins.  The  hand  that  is  penning  this  paragraph 
 on  the  5th  of  June,  1828,  belongs  to  a  human  being, 
 in  health  and  strength,  who  yet  knows  not  that  he 
 shall  live  to  finish  it.  Eyes  which  have  never  looked 
 on  him  will  assuredly  read  what  he  is  now  writing ; 
 and  though  but  a  few  moments  remain  before  this 
 Essay  must  be  concluded,  or  left  unfinished  for  ever, 
 it  is  possible  for  those  moments  to  be  so  well  em¬ 
 ployed,  in  transcribing  a  44  word  in  season,”  that  the 
 soul  of  an  immortal  may  hence  date  the  turning  point 
 in  its  career,  when  for  itself  it  decided  in  the  affirma¬ 
 tive,  the  question  which  Mrs.  Huntington,  after  44  a 
 solemn  consultation,”  in  her  own  mind,  at  the  age  of 
 three  years,  decided  in  the  negative,  (but  happily 
 afterwards  reversed  the  false  judgment,) — 44  Whether 
 is  it  best  to  be  a  Christian  now ,  or  not  yet  ?”  What 
 then  shall  the  44  word  in  season”  be,  which  may  thus 
 influence  the  everlasting  destiny  of  some  living  or 
 unborn  individual?  Surely  it  must  be  one  that  shall 
 establish  the  wisdom  of  this  most  exemplary  woman’s 
 better  choice.  Then  let  it  be  that  which  was  selected 
 for  the  text  of  her  funeral  sermon ;  the  truth  of  which 
 was  proved  by  her  whole  experience,  and  testified  by 
 her  lips,  in  life  and  in  death — 44  All  things  work 
 TOGETHER  FOR  GOOD  TO  THEM  THAT  LOVE  GOD.” 
 
 J.  M. 
 
 Sheffield,  June  5,  1828. 
 
XXX111 
 
 “  TO  THEM  THAT  LOVE  GOD.” 
 Romans  viii.  28. 
 
 Yes  ;  “  all  things  work  together  for  their  good !” 
 How  can  that  glorious  truth  be  understood  ? 
 
 ’Tis  like  Jehovah’s  throne,  where  marvellous  light 
 Hides  in  thick  darkness  from  created  sight ; 
 
 The  first-born  seraph,  trembling  while  he  sings, 
 Views  its  veil’d  lustre  through  his  shadowy  wings; 
 Or,  if  he  meets,  by  unexpected  grace, 
 
 The  beatific  vision,  face  to  face, 
 
 Shrinks  from  perfection  which  no  eye  can  see, 
 Entranced  in  the  abyss  of  Deity. 
 
 Yes ;  “  all  things  work  together  for  their  good !” 
 How  shall  the  mystery  be  understood? 
 
 From  man’s  primeval  curse  are  these  set  free, 
 
 Sin  slain,  death  swallow’d  up  in  victory? 
 
 The  body  from  corruption  so  refined, 
 
 ’Tis  but  the  immortal  vesture  of  the  mind? 
 
 The  mind  from  folly  so  to  wisdom  won, 
 
 ’Tis  but  a  sun-beam  of  the  Eternal  Sun? 
 
 Ah  no,  no; — all  that  troubles  life  is  theirs; 
 
 Hard  toil,  sharp  suffering,  slow-consuming  cares ; 
 To  mourn  and  weep;  want  raiment,  food,  and  rest, 
 Brood  o’er  the  unuttered  anguish  of  the  breast ; 
 
 To  love,  to  hope,  desire,  possess  in  vain, 
 
 Wrestle  with  weakness,  weariness,  and  pain, 
 Struggle  with  fell  disease  from  breath  to  breath, 
 And  every  moment  die  a  moment’s  death ! 
 
 B  3 
 
XX  XIV 
 
 This  is  their  portion,  this  the  common  lot; 
 
 But  they  have  sorrows  which  the  world  knows  not ; _ 
 
 Their  conflicts  with  that  world,  its  fair  false  joys, 
 Insnaring  riches,  and  delusive  toys; 
 
 Its  love,  its  hatred,  its  neglect  and  scorn, 
 
 And  self-abhorrence,  harder  to  be  borne; 
 
 The  pangs  of  conscience,  when  God’s  holy  law, 
 Through  Sinai’s  thunders,  strikes  them  dumb  with  awe; 
 Passions  disorder’d,  when  insane  desires 
 Blow  the  dark  embers  of  unhallow’d  fires ; 
 
 Evils  that  lurk  at  ambush  in  the  heart, 
 
 And  shoot  their  arrows  thence  through  every  part; 
 Harsh  roots  of  bitterness,  light  seeds  of  sin, 
 
 Oft  springing  up,  and  stirring  strife  within; 
 
 Pride,  like  the  serpent,  vaunting  to  deceive, 
 
 As  with  his  subtlety  beguiling  Eve; 
 
 Ambition,  like  the  great  red  dragon,  hurl’d 
 With  all  his  host,  from  heaven  to  this  low  world, 
 Boundless  in  wrath,  as  limited  in  power, 
 
 Kamping  abroad,  and  roaring  to  devour: 
 i  hese,  which  blithe  sinners  laugh  at  and  contemn, 
 Are  worse  than  famine,  sword,  and  fire  to  them. 
 
 Nor  these  alone  ; — for  neither  few  nor  small 
 The  trials  rising  from  their  holy  call ; — 
 
 The  Spirit’s  searching,  proving,  cleansing  flames; 
 Duty’s  demands,  the  Gospel’s  sovereign  claims ; 
 
 Meek  self-denial,  counting  all  things  loss 
 For  Christ,  and  daily  taking  up  his  cross; 
 
 Ihe  broken  heart,  or  heart  that  will  not  break, 
 
 I  hat  aches  not,  or  that  cannot  cease  to  ache; 
 
 Doubts  and  misgivings,  lest,  when  storms  are  past, 
 They  make  sad  shipwreck  of  their  faith  at  last : — 
 These,  and  a  thousand  forms  of  fear  and  shame, 
 
 Bosom  temptations,  which  have  not  a  name, 
 
XXXV 
 
 But  have  a  nature,  felt  through  flesh  and  bone, 
 Through  soul  and  spirit — felt  by  them  alone  : 
 
 These,  these,  the  Christian  pilgrims  sore  distress, 
 
 Like  thorns  and  briers  of  the  wilderness  ; 
 
 These  keep  them  humble,  keep  them  in  the  path, 
 
 As  those  who  flee  from  everlasting  wrath ; 
 
 Yet,  while  their  hearts  and  hopes  are  fixed  above, 
 
 As  those  who  lean  on  everlasting  love, 
 
 On  faithfulness,  which,  though  heaven’s  pillars  bend, 
 And  earth’s  base  fail,  upholds  them  to  the  end. 
 
 By  these,  by  these  alone,  ’tis  understood, 
 
 How  “  all  things  work  together  for  their  good.” 
 Wouldst  thou  too  understand? — Behold,  I  show 
 The  perfect  way — Love  God,  and  thou  shalt  know. 
 
 J.  M. 
 
 June  5,  1828. 
 
: 
 
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 *  »'  «'>• 
 
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MEMOIRS. 
 
 Mrs.  Susan  Huntington  was  a  daughter  of  the 
 Rev.  Achilles  Mansfield,  of  Killingworth,  in  the 
 State  of  Connecticut.  In  this  place  her  father  was 
 ordained  to  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel  in  the  year 
 1779,  and  continued  the  Pastor  of  the  First  Church 
 until  death  closed  his  labours  in  1814.  This  gen¬ 
 tleman  was  a  native  of  New  Haven,  a  graduate  of 
 Yale  College,  and  a  respectable,  useful,  and  much- 
 esteemed  minister  of  Christ,  and,  for  many  years 
 previous  to  his  death,  was  a  member  of  the  Corpora¬ 
 tion  of  the  College  at  which  he  had  received  his 
 education.  On  the  maternal  side,  Mrs.  Huntington 
 was  descended  from  that  pious  man,  so  illustrious  in 
 the  annals  of  the  New  England  churches,  the  Rev. 
 John  Elliot  of  Roxbury,  Mass,  who  will  bear,  to  future 
 ages,  the  honourable  title  of  <s  the  Indian  Apostle.” 
 Mrs.  Mansfield  was  a  daughter  of  Joseph  Elliot  of 
 Killingworth,  whose  father,  Jared  Elliot,  D.  D. 
 minister  of  Killingworth,  was  a  son  of  the  Rev. 
 Joseph  Elliot  of  Guildford,  Conn,  and  grandson  of 
 the  venerable  John  Elliot  of  Roxbury. 
 
38 
 
 Susan  Mansfield  was  the  youngest  of  three  chil¬ 
 dren.  She  was  born  January  27,  1791.  Her  child¬ 
 hood  was  marked  by  sensibility,  sobriety,  and  tender¬ 
 ness  of  conscience,  and  a  taste  for  reading.  Her 
 education  was  chiefly  under  the  paternal  roof,  and  at 
 the  common  schools  in  her  native  town.  The  only 
 instruction  she  received  from  any  other  source,  was 
 at  a  classical  school,  kept  in  Killingworth,  during  two 
 seasons.  Her  parents,  however,  devoted  much  of 
 their  time  and  attention  to  her  instruction.  And, 
 as  her  constitution  was  delicate  from  infancy,  she  was 
 suffered  to  gratify  her  inclination  in  devoting  most  of 
 her  time  to  the  cultivation  of  her  mind,  by  reading 
 and  efforts  at  composition. 
 
 In  reference  to  the  formation  of  her  religious  char¬ 
 acter,  a  friend  of  her  youth  remarks,  in  a  letter  to  the 
 compiler,  44  Blessed  as  she  was  with  a  tenderness  of 
 conscience,  very  unusual,  from  her  earliest  years, 
 which  was  exhibited  in  all  her  intercourse,  at  home 
 and  abroad,  and  with  the  faithful  instructions  of  her 
 parents,  who  were  living  examples  of  what  Christians 
 ought  to  be,  and  were  constantly  endeavouring  to 
 instil  into  the  minds  of  their  children  sentiments  of 
 piety,  of  the  deepest  reverence  towards  God,  of  love 
 to  the  Saviour,  and  of  universal  benevolence  and 
 good-will  towards  men — it  is  difficult  to  fix  on  any 
 precise  time  when  her  serious  impressions  commenced. 
 She  appeared  to  have  been,  in  a  measure,  sanctified 
 from  her  birth,  and,  from  the  first  dawn  of  reason, 
 to  need  only  to  be  informed  what  her  duty  was,  to 
 perform  it.” — There  is  evidence,  however,  that,  for  a 
 time  at  least  after  she  was  capable  of  understanding 
 her  duty  and  her  obligations  to  God,  her  heart  was 
 
39 
 
 not  devoted  to  him.  In  a  letter  to  her  son,  dated  Jail. 
 13,  1823,  she  speaks  of  having  a  distinct  remembrance 
 of  a  solemn  consultation  in  her  mind,  when  she  was 
 about  three  years  old,  whether  it  was  best  to  be  a  Chris¬ 
 tian  then  or  not,  and  of  having  come  to  the  decision 
 that  it  was  not.  But  the  God  to  whom  she  had  been 
 dedicated,  and  whose  blessing  her  parents  had  so 
 often  and  fervently  supplicated  in  her  behalf,  did  not 
 suffer  her  long  to  rest  in  this  sinful  determination. 
 When  about  five  years  of  age,  she  was  brought  by 
 the  Holy  Spirit  to  consider  the  duty  and  consequences 
 of  becoming  a  Christian  indeed  more  seriously,  and, 
 in  the  opinion  of  her  parents,  and  of  other  pious 
 acquaintances,  to  choose  God  for  her  portion.  Of 
 the  correctness  of  this  conclusion  of  her  parents  and 
 friends  she  always  entertained  doubts,  and  regarded 
 a  season  of  deeper,  and,  in  her  view,  more  scriptural 
 religious  impression,  when  about  ten  years  of  age,  as 
 the  commencement  of  holiness  in  her  heart.  She 
 made  a  public  profession  of  her  faith  in  Christ,  and 
 joined  the  church  of  which  her  father  was  pastor,  on 
 the  19th  of  April,  1807,  having  just  entered  her 
 seventeenth  year. 
 
 About  this  time  she  commenced  a  private  journal, 
 which  was  continued  till  her  marriage,  but  which  she 
 destroyed  a  short  time  before  her  death.  Of  her 
 other  writings  during  the  period  just  mentioned, 
 which  were  numerous,  there  remain  only  some  letters, 
 and  a  few  pieces  of  poetry.  The  following  are  ex¬ 
 tracts  from  the  letters  of  this  early  date,  which  the 
 compiler  has  been  able  to  obtain. 
 
40 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  N.  H. 
 
 Killingiuorth ,  March  3,  1808. 
 
 We  are  all  insensible  to  the  innumerable  bles¬ 
 sings  which  continually  surround  us;  and  unconscious, 
 or  regardless  of  the  benevolence  of  the  Almighty 
 Donor.  Yet,  notwithstanding  the  hardness  of  my 
 heart,  I  think  I  can  join  with  you  sincerely,  in 
 blessing  the  God  of  mercies  for  his  goodness  to  his 
 dependent  child.  You  have  tasted  of  the  cup  of 
 affliction.  Yet  remember,  my  dear  E.  it  is  the 
 Lord  who  gives  it :  and  should  it  excite  a  murmur  ? 
 We  receive  good,  and  shall  we  not  receive  evil  also, 
 at  his  hand?  Chastisement  is  disagreeable  to  our 
 frail  and  fallen  nature ;  but  it  is  always  intended,  and 
 is  often  made  to  work,  for  our  good.  And  let  me 
 ask  you — and  permit  me  to  be  serious — does  not 
 this  restoration  to  health  loudly  speak  the  benevo¬ 
 lence  of  God  ?  Does  it  not  lay  you  under  increased 
 obligation  to  devote  your  life  to  his  service  ?  Be¬ 
 lieve  me,  you  cannot  resolve  upon  a  happier  life  than 
 the  life  of  a  Christian.  This  is  the  end  for  which 
 we  were  created;  consequently,  this  alone  can  make 
 us  happy.  Are  not  all  the  pursuits  which  engage 
 our  attention,  except  religion  and  those  which  are 
 consistent  with  it,  vanity  ?  Do  we  not  follow  a 
 phantom,  which  shines  but  to  deceive,  which  blazes 
 but  to  insnare  us  ?  We  are  all  in  pursuit  of  hap¬ 
 piness  :  “  Who  will  show  us  any  good?”  is  the  uni¬ 
 versal  question.  And  how  can  it  be  better  answered, 
 than  by  pointing  to  that  religion  which  heals  every 
 wound?  than  by  directing  the  inquirer  to  the  balm 
 
41 
 
 in  Gilead  and  the  great  Physician  there  ?  Real 
 happiness  cannot  exist  in  an  unrenewed  heart.  We 
 have  lost  our  felicity,  by  renouncing  the  God  who 
 is  the  glorious  fountain  of  everlasting  consolation. 
 Yet  he  has  said,  u  Return  unto  me,  and  I  will 
 return  unto  you.”  Self-deceived  mortals  !  how  can 
 we  slight  the  words  of  love  which  flow  from  the 
 Judge  of  all  the  earth  towards  his  offending,  guilty 
 creatures!  Christianity  alone  can  make  us  happy. 
 The  cold  apathy  and  insensibility,  or  suppression  of 
 feeling,  which  was  inculcated  by  some  of  the  ancient 
 philosophers,  might  dignify  a  heathen.  Their  erro¬ 
 neous  system  of  theology  was  not  capable  of  affording 
 to  its  disciples  that  holy  peace  and  heavenly  pleasure, 
 which  are  the  blessed  effect  of  real  conversion  to  the 
 religion  of  Jesus.  His  voice  alone,  at  whose  com¬ 
 mand  the  tempest  ceased,  can  speak  peace  to  the 
 troubled  spirit.  66  Thou  hast  destroyed  thyself ;  but 
 in  me  is  thy  help.”  66  Return,  ye  backsliding  chil¬ 
 dren,  and  I  will  heal  your  backslidings.”  “  Ho, 
 every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters,  and 
 he  that  hath  no  money :  come  ye,  buy  and  eat ;  yea, 
 come,  buy  wine  and  milk  without  money,  and  without 
 price !”  Blessed  be  our  God  that  he  has  not  left 
 us  without  hope  ! 
 
 My  dear  E.  it  is  my  belief  that  it  is  our  duty,  if 
 we  are  disciples  of  Christ,  to  confess  him  before  men. 
 And  surely  it  is  a  small,  a  very  small  thing,  to  live 
 to  Him  who  died  for  us.  How  can  we,  in  the  least, 
 discharge  the  debt  of  gratitude  we  owe  him?  We 
 can  never  discharge  it.  But  we  must  stand  upon 
 the  Lord’s  side,  if  we  are  willing  to  be  his,  and  thus 
 prove  that  we  are  not  ashamed  of  Christ.  Ashamed 
 
42 
 
 of  Christ!  preposterous  idea!  No:  a  Christian 
 may  blush  at  himself,  but  he  can  never  be  ashamed 
 of  the  name  of  his  Lord.  Surely  duty,  interest,  all 
 call  upon  us  to  take  refuge  under  the  wing  of  the 
 Almighty.  My  dear  friend,  this  is  a  subject  of 
 great  importance.  “  Choose  you  this  day  whom  ye 
 will  serve,”  is  the  momentous  proposition  continually 
 addressed  to  us  all  by  our  Maker  and  Redeemer. 
 And  think,  O  think,  of  the  infinite,  the  blessed 
 consequences  of  the  happy  resolve — “  As  for  me,  I 
 will  serve  the  Lord  !” 
 
 TO  ANOTHER  FRIEND  AT  N.  H. 
 
 Killing-worth,  March  4,  1808. 
 
 I  have  read  the  sweet  little  poem,*  whose  ad¬ 
 mirable  author  you  so  much  admire,  and  am  happy 
 that  we  are  alike  pleased  with  it.  Some  of  his  de¬ 
 scriptions  are  inimitably  charming  and  picturesque; 
 and  some  of  his  observations  concerning  the  ways  of 
 Providence  very  just,  especially  when  he  says, 
 
 “  One  part,  one  little  part,  we  dimly  scan,”  &c. 
 
 in  which  he  is  condemning  us  for  doubting  the  wis- 
 dom  and  goodness  of  Providence.  My  ideas  corre¬ 
 spond  with  his  on  this  interesting  subject;  for  I  firmly 
 believe,  that 
 
 “  Oft  from  apparent  ill  our  blessings  rise.” 
 
 “  All  things,”  we  are  assured,  u  work  together  for 
 good  to  them  that  love  God.”  And,  as  we  are 
 
 *  Beattie’s  Minstrel. 
 
43 
 
 ignorant  of  the  manner  in  which  our  heavenly  Fa¬ 
 ther  is  pleased  to  overrule  events  for  our  happiness, 
 it  is  extremely  reprehensible  in  us  to  be  dissatisfied 
 with  any  of  his  appointments.  The  prayer  of  the 
 true  Christian  is,  u  Make  me  happy  with  prosperity; 
 but,  above  all,  give  me  conformity  to,  and  content¬ 
 ment  with,  thy  will. 
 
 I  have  been  reading  Cowper  also,  and  love  his 
 sentiments,  his  expressions,  and  his  works  entire, 
 dearly.  Perhaps  you  will  think  I  speak  with  the 
 rapture  of  an  enthusiast,  rather  than  with  the  reason¬ 
 able  animation  of  a  reasonable  creature.  But  how 
 can  one  fail  to  be  delighted  with  the  mild,  delicate, 
 and  pious  sentiments,  which  continually  flow  from  the 
 amiable  author  of  “  The  Task  ?”  In  all  his  expres¬ 
 sions  he  is  “  simple,  grave,  sincere ;”  his  style,  alike 
 removed  from  the  turgid  and  the  weak,  and  peculi¬ 
 arly  free  from  that  affectation  which  was  his  <fi  per¬ 
 fect  scorn.” 
 
 I  cannot  sufficiently  express  the  value  I  place  upon 
 this  excellent  work.  Some  of  his  u  Winter  Even¬ 
 ing”  descriptions  fill  me  with  pleasure.  I,  in  fancy, 
 visit  the  lonely  spot  he  describes,  and  wander  with 
 him  over  each  heath  and  plain.  I  love  the  man  for 
 his  meek  and  benevolent  spirit.  His  writings  are 
 entirely  free  from  that  acrimony  (which  distinguishes 
 some  of  the  English  poets)  of  satire  against  any  class 
 whom  he  disliked. 
 
 The  intelligence  that  the  Lord  is  visiting  you  with 
 the  showers  of  his  grace,  and  causing  the  Sun  of 
 Righteousness  to  shine  on  N.  H.  and  the  neighbour¬ 
 ing  towns,  affords  me  unspeakable  pleasure.  If  I 
 know  my  own  heart  I  ardently  long  for  the  universal 
 
44 
 
 promulgation  and  reception  of  that  religion  which 
 alone  can  make  men  happy.  And,  blessed  be  the 
 God  of  mercies !  he  will  not  leave  his  work  unfinished. 
 I  rejoice  that  so  many  are  hopefully  turned  from  dark¬ 
 ness  to  light.  May  this  happy  state  of  things  long 
 continue,  and  your  light  shine  more  and  more  unto 
 the  perfect  day. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  N.  Y. 
 
 Killingworth,  June  3,  1808. 
 
 Your  observations  respecting  our  inability  to  at¬ 
 tain  resignation  of  ourselves,  so  as  to  say  unreservedly 
 to  our  heavenly  Father,  “  Thy  will  be  done,”  are  un¬ 
 doubtedly  just.  But  let  us  not  forget  the  nature  of 
 this  inability.  It  is  not  such  as  furnishes  any  ex¬ 
 cuse  or  extenuation  of  our  sins,  when  we  are  not  re¬ 
 signed  ;  but  is  the  very  thing  that  constitutes  our 
 guilt,  proceeding  from  the  opposition  of  our  hearts  to 
 the  character  and  government  of  God.  It  should 
 therefore  produce  in  us  deep  humiliation  and  contri¬ 
 tion,  and  drive  us  to  the  foot  of  the  cross.  The  want 
 of  this  resignation,  this  perfect  acquiescence  in  the 
 will  of  God,  is  one  of  the  principal  sources  of  the  un¬ 
 happiness  of  which  we  constantly  complain.  Could 
 we  acquiesce  with  cheerfulness  in  the  dispensations 
 of  unerring  Providence,  we  should  at  once  feel  a 
 spark  of  celestial  happiness  enkindled  in  our  hearts. 
 But  this  is  a  state  of  which  frail  humanity  comes 
 far  short  at  the  best.  We  wish  to  have  this  or  that 
 desire  complied  with ;  and  think  that,  could  we  but 
 obtain  the  accomplishment  of  our  wishes,  we  should 
 be  blessed  indeed.  But  it  is  best  they  should  not  be 
 
45 
 
 granted :  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God  assure  us 
 it  is  so.  And  yet  because  they  are  denied,  we  sink 
 into  despondency  and  grief.  My  dear  friend,  I  be¬ 
 lieve  that  if  we  could  view  things  as  they  really  are, 
 we  should  find  reason  to  say,  The  Lord  hath  done 
 all  things  well ;  mercy  and  peace  go  before  him  con¬ 
 tinually.  Afflictions  are  sent  for  our  profit ;  and  if 
 we  do  not  profit  by  them,  the  fault  is  entirely  our 
 own.  They  are  designed  to  convince  us  of  the  un¬ 
 satisfying  and  fleeting  nature  of  all  things  beneath 
 the  sun.  We  should  not  therefore,  when  they  are 
 upon  us,  indulge  the  sorrow  of  the  world  which  work- 
 eth  death ;  but  pray  that  they  may  be  made  to  work 
 in  us  the  peaceable  fruit  of  righteousness,  and,  in  the 
 future  world,  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight 
 of  glory.  While  we  are  “pilgrims  and  strangers” 
 in  this  valley  of  tears,  we  must  constantly  meet  with 
 sorrows  and  troubles,  which  nothing  but  religion  can 
 enable  us  to  sustain.  This  then,  religion,  is  the  hid¬ 
 den  treasure,  “  the  pearl  of  great  price,”  to  obtain 
 which  we  should  sell  all  that  we  have.  This  it  is 
 that  affords  happiness  in  life ;  this  it  is  that  smooths 
 and  softens  the  pillow  of  death ;  this  it  is  that  leads 
 its  disciples  to  a  heaven  of  unclouded  day !  My  dear 
 N.  do  we  possess  this  treasure  ?  Important  question ! 
 involving  joys  and  sorrows  inconceivable  and  eter¬ 
 nal  !  If  we  do  not,  let  us,  without  delay,  draw  near 
 to  the  throne  of  grace,  that  we  may  obtain  mercy. 
 There  is  a  o-lorious  Mediator  between  God  and  man. 
 
 o 
 
 And  He  whom  we  have  offended  says  to  us,  “  Ask, 
 and  ye  shall  receive ;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find.” 
 
46 
 
 TO  MISS  L.  OF  N.  Y. 
 
 Killing-worth,  July  23,  1808. 
 
 Your  letter,  my  ever  dear  M.  has  just  been 
 handed  me,  and  has  afforded  me  great  pleasure.  It 
 convinced  me  that  I  was  not  forgotten  by  one  whom 
 I  tenderly  love ;  and,  at  the  same  time  that  it  assured 
 me  of  your  friendship,  conveyed  to  my  heart  a  de¬ 
 gree  of  consolation  which  I  greatly  needed,  and  which 
 the  divine  truths  it  contained  are  so  well  calculated 
 to  inspire. 
 
 We  are  subject  to  a  thousand  weaknesses,  the  na¬ 
 tural  attendants  of  frail  humanity;  it  is  not  strange, 
 therefore,  that  we  should  sometimes  feel  oppressed 
 with  doubts  and  fears.  Indeed  a  certain  religious 
 
 ^  O 
 
 author  says,  <£  The  soul  that  never  doubted  hath 
 never  yet  believed :  for  while  flesh  remains  in  the 
 believer,  it  is  unbelieving  flesh;  and  it  is  the  office 
 of  faith  to  subdue  this  unbelief  in  all  its  activities.” 
 There  are,  it  appears  to  me,  two  kinds  of  doubt  re¬ 
 specting  our  spiritual  state,  to  which  we  are  subject. 
 One  is  a  distrust  of  God’s  omnipotence,  mercy,  will¬ 
 ingness  to  save,  &c.  something  like  that  which  we 
 should  suppose  the  apostles  felt,  when  they  exclaimed 
 with  astonishment,  “  Who  then  can  be  saved.”  The 
 other  proceeds  from  a  consciousness  of  weakness,  sin, 
 want  of  faith,  &c.  in  ourselves.  I  do  not  think  that 
 my  doubts  are  occasioned  by  any  distrust  of  the 
 blessed  God.  Oh  no  !  God  takes  no  pleasure  in 
 the  death  of  the  wicked;  else  why  did  he  give  his 
 Son  to  be  a  ransom  for  sinners  ?  why  does  he  run 
 to  meet  the  returning  prodigal,  while  yet  a  great 
 
47 
 
 way  off?  why  does  he  continue  to  hold  out  to  us 
 the  sceptre  of  his  mercy,  when  we  are  practically 
 saying  to  him,  “  We  desire  not  the  knowledge  of 
 thy  ways  ?”  That  God  is  love,  is  evinced  by  every 
 thing  around  us,  as  well  as  by  the  declarations  of  his 
 word.  He  is  able  and  willing  to  save,  to  the  utter¬ 
 most,  all  who  come  unto  him  with  faith  in  the  merits 
 of  his  Son.  The  difficulty  seems  to  be  entirely  in 
 myself.  I  am  so  cold  and  lifeless,  so  faithless  and 
 unbelieving,  that  it  seems  to  be  almost  impossible 
 that  I  should  be  allied  to  any  thing  good.  Do  not 
 infer  from  this  last  remark  that  I  am  very  humble. 
 
 I  ought  to  be  humbled  in  the  very  dust;  but  I  am 
 far  less  abased  before  God  than  I  feel  that  I  should 
 be.  How  far  am  I  from  that  fervour  of  spirit  in 
 serving  the  Lord,  and  that  deadness  to  the  world, 
 that  watchfulness  and  zeal,  which  I  ought  to  have, 
 and  which  I  long  to  possess  !  My  dear  M.  it  is  a 
 great  thing  to  be  a  Christian  at  any  time,  especially 
 in  these  last  days,  when  iniquity  abounds,  and  the 
 love  of  many  waxes  cold ;  when  6(  the  declensions  of 
 Christianity”  may  he  produced  as  ec  a  sad  argument 
 of  its  truth.”  But  it  is  God  that  worketh  in  us  to 
 will  and  to  do  of  his  good  pleasure ;  and  to  him  the 
 work  is  as  easy  now  as  at  any  other  period.  Were 
 the  whole  world  around  us  faithful  disciples  of  Christ, 
 there  would  still  be  a  law  in  our  members,  over  which 
 God  alone  could  give  us  the  victory,  through  Jesus 
 Christ  our  Lord.  In  such  circumstances,  however, 
 there  would  be  fewer  temptations,  and  it  would  be 
 easier  to  maintain  a  close  walk  with  God.  Nothing 
 short  of  omnipotence  can,  indeed,  cause  light  to 
 shine  out  of  darkness.  But  the  greatness  of  the 
 
48 
 
 work  should  not  cause  our  hearts  to  sink  in  despond¬ 
 ency.  No  work  is  too  great  for  God  to  perform; 
 and  he  has  promised  to  help  those  who  trust  in  him, 
 and  to  give  them  all  that  they  ask  agreeably  to  his 
 will.  Despondency  must  then  arise  from  want  of 
 faith.  This  it  was  in  Peter  which  impelled  him  to 
 exclaim,  “  Lord,  save  me,  I  perish !”  He  did  not 
 fully  trust  in  the  power  of  his  divine  Master,  but 
 yielded  to  fear,  excited  by  the  rough  appearance  of 
 the  waves  on  which  he  stood ;  forgetting  that  He 
 whom  the  winds  and  the  sea  obey  was  at  his  side. 
 This  it  is  in  us — the  want  of  faith,  that  leads  us  to 
 doubt  whether  we  can  ever  be  saved.  The  Lord  in¬ 
 crease  our  faith,  and  give  us  unwavering  confidence 
 in  his  faithfulness  and  mercy. 
 
 TO  THE  SAME. 
 
 Killing'worth,  Sept.  21,  1808. 
 
 In  writing  to  you,  my  dear  M.  I  shall,  with  a 
 confidence  which  our  friendship  justifies,  throw  away 
 all  unnecessary  reserve,  and  use  the  freedom  of  a 
 friend  and  sister.  In  communicating  every  incident 
 which  is  interesting  to  me,  and  seeking  in  you,  when 
 I  am  in  trouble,  that  sympathy  and  consolation  which 
 I  hope  to  find  in  one  whose  mind  is  so  congenial 
 with  my  own,  I  shall  enjoy  your  society,  though  I 
 am  separated  from  you.  And  in  such  correspon¬ 
 dence — which  it  is  my  wish  may  be  maintained  be¬ 
 tween  us  while  life  shall  last — we  shall  find  much 
 pleasure,  and,  I  hope,  some  profit.  When  I  go  to 
 Boston,  I  do  not  expect  to  have  any  regular  corre- 
 
49 
 
 spondent  but  you ;  as  other  necessary  and  unavoid¬ 
 able  engagements  will,  probably,  prevent  my  retain¬ 
 ing  more  than  one.  I  shall  therefore  wish  you  to 
 write  me  frequently,  that  we  may  not  cease  to  think 
 of  and  love  each  other. 
 
 I  do  not  question  the  correctness  of  Mr.  S.’s  ex¬ 
 planation  of  Christian  humility,  nor  of  the  remarks 
 he  connected  with  it  respecting  doubts,  &c.  But 
 do  you  think,  that  continual  doubts  in  a  regenerate 
 person  are  as  conducive  to  God’s  glory  as  a  stronger 
 faith  would  be  ?  I  know  that,  as  long  as  sin  remains, 
 there  will  probably  be  seasons  of  comparative  dark¬ 
 ness  ;  and  therefore,  some  degree  of  doubt  is  consis¬ 
 tent  with  the  Christian  character.  Yet  I  believe 
 that,  could  we  always  have  faith  to  say  with  the 
 apostle,  “  I  know  in  whom  I  have  believed,”  we 
 should  glorify  God  much  more  than  we  do  now. 
 
 I  received  a  letter  last  week  from  Gen.  Hunting- 
 ton.  He  informs  me  of  the  melancholy  death  of  his 
 daughter-in-law,  at  N.  of  whom  you  have  heard  me 
 speak  in  terms  of  affection  and  admiration.  She  was 
 one  of  the  excellent  of  the  earth ;  an  ornament  to  her 
 sex,  and  to  the  religion  of  Christ.  Her  usefulness 
 here  is  now  at  an  end.  God  hath  prepared  her  for 
 glory,  and  he  has  taken  her  to  himself.  In  the  midst 
 of  life  we  are  in  death.  Oh  that  we,  my  dear  M. 
 would  learn  to  consider  ourselves  as  pilgrims  and  stran¬ 
 gers  on  the  earth,  and  to  live  with  a  constant  refer¬ 
 ence  to  eternity  !  that  when  the  solemn  hour  of  death 
 shall  come,  we  may 
 
 - Look  back  on  every  sorrow  past, 
 
 And  meet  life’s  peaceful  evening  with  a  smile. 
 
 C 
 
 41 
 
50 
 
 TO  MR.  D.  OF  - . 
 
 Killing'worth ,  November  22,  1808. 
 
 The  friendship  which  you  feel  for  us  all,  and 
 which  we  all  feel  for  you,  rendered  any  apology,  in 
 regard  to  your  commencing  a  correspondence  with 
 me,  needless.  I  hope  ever  to  consider  you  as  one 
 of  my  friends ;  and,  as  such,  your  letter  could  excite 
 no  other  sensations  than  those  of  pleasure. 
 
 The  silence  which  you  preserved  while  here, 
 upon  the  subject  of  our  beloved  Eliza’s  death,*  I 
 did  not  impute  either  to  indifference  or  insensibility, 
 You  knew  her  too  well,  to  suffer  the  remembrance 
 of  her  virtue  to  depart  from  your  mind,  as  she  de¬ 
 parted  from  the  theatre  of  life.  And  you  are  not 
 possessed  of  that  stoicism  of  feeling,  which  would 
 preclude  your  being  interested  in  the  afflictions  ol 
 your  friends.  I  rather  imputed  it  to  a  reluctance 
 to  open  afresh  those  wounds,  in  the  bosoms  of  the 
 members  of  this  family,  which  can  never  be  entirely 
 healed,  by  recalling  to  our  memories  the  recollection 
 of  one  of  our  number  whom  God  has  taken  from  us. 
 She  was  all  that  was  amiable  and  lovely ;  and  none 
 can  realize  our  loss,  but  those  who  knew  her  as  we 
 did.  Could  I  not  feel  that  there  is  indeed  a  God 
 that  judgeth  in  the  earth,  and  that  though  clouds 
 and  darkness  are  often  round  about  him,  yet  right¬ 
 eousness  and  judgment  are  the  habitation  of  his 
 throne — and  did  I  not  believe  that  he  orders  every 
 
 *  The  person  whose  death  is  here  referred  to  was  her  sister, 
 Mrs.  Eliza  Olcott  of  Killingworth. 
 
51 
 
 tiling  for  his  own  glory,  and  the  highest  good  of  his 
 intelligent  creation, — I  should  at  times  be  ready  to 
 sink  under  his  chastising  hand.  But  the  persuasion 
 that  the  Lord  reigneth  in  perfect  righteousness,  is 
 not  my  only  source  of  consolation  under  this  trial; 
 for  I  have  reason  to  hope  that  my  dear  sister  died 
 in  peace,  and  has  entered  into  that  rest  which  re- 
 maineth  for  the  people  of  God.  In  this  view,  death 
 seems  disarmed  of  his  sting;  and  I  sometimes  feel 
 disposed  to  bless  the  Lord,  for  having  released  her 
 from  sin,  and  every  attending  sorrow,  and  admitted 
 her  to  the  full  enjoyment  of  himself.  Dear  departed 
 Eliza !  thy  journey  was  short ;  but  thou  hast  ar¬ 
 rived  at  the  haven  of  felicity,  and  God  has  wiped  all 
 tears  from  thine  eyes  ! 
 
 The  various  inquiries  you  proposed,  need  more 
 time  and  wisdom  than  I  possess,  fully  and  properly 
 to  answer.  Those  which  more  immediately  interest 
 yourself,  excite,  in  a  peculiar  degree,  my  attention. 
 I  suppose  you  consider  yourself  as  to  be  ranked 
 among  the  sixth  class  of  undecided  characters  men¬ 
 tioned  in  your  letter,  which  you  have  described  as 
 66  being  necessitated  to  halt  between  two  opinions, 
 from  a  half  persuasion  that  they  are  right,  while 
 opposed  in  their  plans  by  the  opinions  and  wishes  of 
 friends,”  &c.  This  is  certainly  a  very  unpleasant 
 situation,  and  I  am  sincerely  sorry  it  is  yours;  be¬ 
 cause,  when  we  are  undecided  in  our  own  minds  re¬ 
 specting  any  particular  pursuit,  there  is  less  prospect 
 of  usefulness  and  happiness  in  life,  than  there  would 
 otherwise  be  ;  on  account  of  our  being,  by  this  means, 
 prevented  from  properly  exerting  our  powers,  and  as 
 it  also  prevents  or  clouds  that  approbation  of  our 
 
 c  2 
 
52 
 
 own  hearts,  founded  on  the  firm  persuasion  that  we 
 are  good  soldiers  in  a  good  cause,  which  is  as  an 
 anchor  to  the  soul.  I  wish  it  were  in  my  power  to 
 give  you  all  that  advice  you  desire  from  your  friends, 
 and  to  direct  your  mind  to  the  course  of  duty  and  of 
 happiness.  I  would  direct  you  to  that  Divine  Book 
 which  contains  directions  for  all,  given  by  One  who 
 cannot  misguide ;  directions  which,  if  followed,  will 
 conduct  to  usefulness  and  happiness,  both  here  and 
 hereafter.  Seek,  from  the  fountain  of  grace,  wisdom 
 profitable  to  direct,  and  grace  to  help;  and  he  assured 
 
 you  will  not  seek  in  vain. 
 
 You  say  it  has,  a  long  time,  been  your  desire  to 
 
 preach  the  Gospel,  and  that  though,  at  times,  a  sense 
 of  your  unworthiness  leads  you  almost  to  relinquish 
 this  your  darling  object,  yet  you  feel,  that  by  re¬ 
 linquishing  it  you  would  give  up  also  all  your  hopes 
 of  earthly  happiness.  If  this  is  the  case— if  you  also 
 feel  this  pursuit  your  duty— if  you  indeed  desire  to 
 know  nothing  but  Jesus  Christ  and  him  crucified— 
 and  if  you  ardently  long  to  glorify  God  and  benefit 
 the  souls  of  men,— I  certainly  think  you  ought  to 
 enter  the  ministry.  Your  distrust  of  yourself  is  no 
 ground  for  discouragement.  On  the  contrary,  if  you 
 did  not  feel  your  weakness  and  unworthiness,  you 
 would  have  reason  to  doubt  whether  you  had  ever 
 seen  your  true  character,  as  delineated  in  the  Scrip¬ 
 tures  of  truth.  Grace  operates  by  subduing  the 
 pride  of  man.  Renounce  all  dependence  on  your¬ 
 self.  Be  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power  ol 
 
 his  might,  and  you  need  not  fear. 
 
 With  regard  to  the  subject  of  Episcopacy,  which 
 seems  to  engross  so  much  of  your  attention,  I  think 
 
53 
 
 myself  qualified  to  say  but  little.  I  have  never  en¬ 
 tered  into  the  spirit  of  the  controversy,  and  have  but 
 little  information  on  the  subject.  I  would  refer  you 
 to  Dr.  Mason,*  Dr.  Miller, f  and  others,  who  have 
 written,  so  far  as  I  am  informed,  ably  and  scripturally, 
 upon  the  topics  in  debate  between  the  Presbyterians  J 
 and  Episcopalians. 
 
 You  think  you  can  do  more  good  as  an  Episcopal 
 minister.  Why?  You  must  give  some  reason  for 
 supposing  so,  or  you  may  fall  under  the  appellation 
 <c  romantic,”  according  to  Foster.  What  leads  you 
 to  think  you  can  do  more  good  in  the  Episcopal 
 church  ?  Is  it  that  Episcopal  ministers  are  generally 
 more  successful  in  winning  souls  to  Christ,  than 
 resbyterian  ministers  ?  Or  do  you  think  that,  if 
 you  enter  that  church,  you  will  exceed  other  minis¬ 
 ters,  in  both  churches,  so  far  as  to  be  peculiarly 
 blessed?  Indeed,  my  friend,  I  would  not  damp 
 your  zeal,  or  cloud  your  prospects  of  usefulness.  I 
 hope  you  may  be  blessed  of  God,  and  turn  many  to 
 righteousness.  But  I  believe,  judging  from  facts, 
 and  the  promises  of  Scripture  to  all  faithful  heralds 
 of  the  cross,  that  you  may  be  as  useful  a  minister  in 
 the  Presbyterian  as  in  the  Episcopal  church. 
 
 Are  the  doctrines  which  Episcopalians,  in  this 
 region,  usually  embrace,  more  scriptural  than  those 
 held  by  the  Presbyterians. 
 
 That  baptism  is  not  regeneration,  appears  to  me 
 
 •  Articles  in  the  Christian’s  Magazine,  on  Episcopacy, 
 f  Letters  concerning  the  Constitution  and  Order  of  the  Chris¬ 
 tian  Ministry. 
 
 t  In  Connecticut,  the  Congregationalists  are  usually  called 
 Presbyterians. 
 
54 
 
 so  plain  from  the  Scriptures,  and  the  best  observa¬ 
 tion  of  the  world  around  us,  as  to  need  no  other  de¬ 
 monstration.  If  it  be,  I  do  not  see  that  any  can  be 
 saved  but  those  who  have  been  baptized;  for  our 
 Saviour  explicitly  affirms,  that  44  except  a  man  be 
 born  again,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God. 
 And  can  you  adopt  a  sentiment  which  leads  to  such 
 
 a  conclusion? 
 
 You  seem,  however,  rather  to  suppose  that  re¬ 
 generation  may  be  regarded  as  always  accompanying 
 baptism,  when  the  subject  is  presented  in  the  proper 
 spirit.  If  parents  give  up  their  children  in  this  or¬ 
 dinance  in  faith,  you  appear  to  think  they  may  be 
 uniformly  regenerated.  But  who  had  worse  children 
 than  Eli  and  David  ?  And  yet  they  were  both  holy 
 men,  and  no  doubt  gave  up  their  children  to  God  in 
 faith  in  the  ordinance  of  circumcision.  And  do  we 
 not  sometimes  see  the  best  parents,  who,  we  cannot 
 doubt,  have  in  faith  dedicated  their  offspring  to 
 God,  and,  by  both  precept  and  example,  taught  them 
 •  the  way  of  righteousness,  afflicted  with  children  who 
 are  utter  strangers  to  the  power  of  divine  grace? 
 If  this  be  the  case,  we  must  either  condemn  such 
 parents  as  hypocrites,  or  conclude  that  the  opinion 
 in  question  is  erroneous.  With  regard  to  that  ex¬ 
 pression  of  our  Lord,  in  his  conversation  with  Tsiico- 
 demus,  44  Except  a  man  be  born  of  water  and  the 
 Spirit,’’  &e,  it  is,  I  think,  evident,  for  the  reasons 
 just  stated,  that  the  phrase  44  born  ol  water,”  does 
 not  mean  baptism.  Mr.  Henry,  author  of  the 
 Commentary,  thinks  that  water  is  used  in  this  place 
 figuratively,  to  express  the  cleansing  or  purifying 
 effect  of  the  saving  influences  of  the  Spirit.  44  The 
 
55 
 
 washing  of  regeneration,”  and  “  baptized  with  the 
 Holy  Ghost  and  with  fire,”  are,  in  his  opinion, 
 phrases  synonymous  with  this.  But  I  have  heard 
 it  objected,  c  In  saying  that  baptism  is  not  regenera¬ 
 tion,  you  depreciate  its  worth,  and  render  it  of  little 
 or  no  use/  By  no  means.  Its  not  being  a  con¬ 
 verting  ordinance,  is  no  reason  why  we  should  con¬ 
 sider  it  useless  and  of  no  efficacy.  Conversion  is 
 not  immediately  and  inseparably  connected  with  read¬ 
 ing  the  Scriptures  and  attending  public  worship ; 
 but  they  are  not,  on  that  account,  to  be  regarded  as 
 of  no  use.  They  are  means  of  grace,  and  those  who 
 do  not  use  them  will,  most  probably,  never  be  con¬ 
 verted.  Baptism  initiates  the  subject  into  the  visible 
 church  of  Christ,  and  implies  the  most  solemn  en¬ 
 gagements,  on  the  part  of  the  parents,  to  train  up 
 their  “  child  in  the  way  he  should  go and  if  they 
 faithfully  fulfil  their  engagements,  there  is  reason  to 
 hope  that £<  when  he  is  old  lie  will  not  depart  from  it.” 
 If  baptism  is  regeneration,  Christ’s  exhortation, 
 66  Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate,”  &c.  was  un¬ 
 necessary;  for  the  road  to  life  is  so  broad  and  easy 
 of  access  that  few  can  miss  it. 
 
 That  the  faith  which  was  not  followed  by  good 
 works  is  of  no  avail,  I  readily  allow;  or,  to  speak 
 more  properly,  if  good  works  do  not  appear,  there  is 
 no  faith  at  ail — the  soul  is  unregenerate.  Neverthe¬ 
 less,  neither  our  faith  nor  our  good  works  constitute, 
 or  make  a  part  of,  the  ground  or  meritorious  cause 
 of  our  acceptance  with  God.  It  is  certain  that  we 
 cannot  be  saved  without  faith;  for  the  Scripture  saith, 
 “  He  that  believeth  on  the  Sondiath  everlasting  life; 
 and  he  that  believeth  not  the  Son  shall  not  see  life, 
 
56 
 
 but  the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on  him.”  Yet  it  is 
 not  our  faith,  as  a  virtue  in  us,  which  procures  for  us 
 the  complacent  regard  of  Jehovah ;  but  the  merits  of 
 Christ,  in  which  we  become  interested  by  faith. 
 “  Being,”  says  the  apostle,  44  justified  freely  ” — 
 without  any  merit  on  our  part — 46  by  his  grace, 
 through  the  redemption  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus.” 
 And  the  reason  of  this  is  obvious.  Our  faith  can 
 have  no  merit  in  it,  because  it  is  the  gift  of  God. 
 “  By  grace  are  ye  saved,  through  faith;  and  that  not 
 of  yourselves;  it  is  the  gift  of  God.” 
 
 The  subject  of  the  decrees  of  God,  is  one  upon 
 which  I  have  never  thought  it  profitable  for  me  to 
 speculate.  44  Secret  things  belong  unto  the  Lord 
 our  God;  the  things  which  are  revealed  belong  unto 
 us.”  I  have  reason  to  blush  that  my  mind  is  so 
 enveloped  in  the  shades  of  ignorance  and  unbelief, 
 in  regard  to  this  and  every  other  doctrine  of  the 
 Bible.  That  44  God  did,  out  of  his  mere  good 
 pleasure,  from  all  eternity,  elect  some  to  everlasting 
 life,”  I  firmly  believe,  because  it  appears  to  me  to 
 be  plainly  taught  in  the  Scriptures.  But  that  this 
 election  destroys,  or  at  all  interferes  with,  the  free 
 agency  of  man,  I  do  not  believe.  It  is  my  opinion, 
 that  salvation  by  Jesus  Christ  should  be  preached 
 indiscriminately  to  all — that  all  have  the  sincere  offers 
 of  mercy — and  therefore,  that  those  who  come  short 
 of  salvation,  must  take  all  the  blame  of  tbeir  de¬ 
 struction  to  themselves,  while  those  who  are  saved, 
 must  ascribe  it  wholly  to  the  riches  of  sovereign 
 grace.  And  is  there  any  inconsistency  in  this? 
 Because  44  God  hath  fore-ordained  whatsoever  comes 
 to  pass,”  are  we  to  conclude  that  all  efforts  on  our 
 
57 
 
 part  to  repent  and  believe  are  unnecessary;  and  that 
 we  are  excusable  in  neglecting  the  means  of  grace  ? 
 The  Scriptures  assure  us,  and  we  believe,  that  there 
 is  44  an  appointed  time  for  man  upon  the  earth,” 
 that  44  his  days  are  determined,  and  the  number  of 
 his  months  are  with  God,”  and  that  44  he  hath  ap¬ 
 pointed  his  bounds  that  he  cannot  pass;”  but  this 
 does  not  prevent  us,  when  we  are  sick,  from  using 
 proper  medicines  for  the  recovery  of  health.  We 
 do  not  say  4  I  will  do  nothing;  if  I  am  to  die,  I 
 shall  die  at  any  rate;  if  not,  I  shall  live,  though  I 
 use  no  means  for  the  preservation  of  life.’  This,  all 
 admit,  would  be  an  absurd  way  of  reasoning.  But 
 is  it  not  equally  absurd  to  reason  in  the  same  manner 
 with  regard  to  our  eternal  concerns? 
 
 I  believe  we  are  naturally  in  a  state  of  enmity  to 
 God,  entirely  depraved,  44  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins.” 
 Yet  I  do  not  believe  that  we  are,  in  such  a  sense, 
 unable  to  repent,  believe  in  Christ,  and  love  God; 
 that  we  are  in  the  least  degree  excusable  for  dis¬ 
 obeying  the  divine  commands  which  require  us  to 
 do  these  things.  The  best  Calvinistic  writers,  such 
 as  President  Edwards,  Andrew  Fuller,  &c.  make  a 
 distinction  between  what  they  call  natural  and  moral 
 inability  to  obey  the  commands  of  God: — 44  If  it 
 were  not  the  duty  of  unconverted  sinners  to  believe 
 in  Christ,  and  that  because  of  their  inability,  this 
 inability  must  be  natural,  or  something  which  does 
 not  arise  from  an  evil  disposition:  but  all  the  inabi¬ 
 lity  ascribed  to  man,  with  respect  to  believing,  arises 
 from  the  aversion  of  his  heart.”  Consequently,  it 
 is  the  duty  of  the  sinner  to  believe  in  Christ ;  and  it 
 
 c  3 
 
 9 
 
58 
 
 is  altogether  owing  to  his  disinclination  that  he  does 
 not,  as  is  evident  from  many  passages  of  Scripture ; 
 such  as,  44  Ye  will  not  come  to  me  that  ye  might 
 have  life” — 44  We  desire  not  the  knowledge  of  thy 
 ways” — 44  Men  love  darkness  rather  than  light. 
 
 “  Surely,”  says  Mr.  Fuller,  64  the  plainest  and 
 weakest  Christian,  in  reading  his  Bible,  if  he  pay 
 any  regard  to  what  he  reads,  must  perceive  a  mani¬ 
 fest  difference  between  the  blindness  of  Bartimeus, 
 who  was  ardently  desirous  that  he  might  receive  his 
 sight,  and  that  of  the  unbelieving  Jews,  who  closed 
 their  eyes,  lest  they  should  see,  and  be  converted, 
 and  healed — and  between  the  want  of  the  natural 
 sense  of  hearing,  and  the  state  of  those  who  have 
 ears,  but  hear  not.” 
 
 The  doctrine  of  the  perseverance  of  the  saints,  I 
 also  believe,  because  I  think  it  is  plainly  taught  in 
 the  Bible.  That  many  profess  religion  who  never 
 felt  it,  that  many  deceive  themselves  and  others  by  a 
 false  show,  and  that  many  go  considerable  lengths  in 
 the  external  practice  of  the  precepts,  and  acquire  a 
 considerable  speculative  knowledge  and  belief  o f  the 
 doctrines  of  the  Gospel — and  that  these  frequently 
 fall  away  from  all  which  they  ever  did  profess  aud 
 believe,  I  have  no  doubt.  And  if  the  perseverance 
 of  true  believers  depended  upon  themselves,  none 
 would  persevere.  But  it  does  not  depend  upon 
 themselves.  44  In  the  Lord  have  they  righteousness 
 and  strength.”  They  build  upon  that  44  sure  foun¬ 
 dation-stone  which  can  never  be  moved.”  They 
 trust  in  Him  who  says  to  his  people,  44  I  will  never 
 leave  nor  forsake  you.”  And,  saith  the  apostle, 
 
59 
 
 66  God  is  true.  All  the  promises  of  God  in  Christ 
 Jesus  are  yea  and  amen.”  In  another  place  he  says, 
 ££  I  am  persuaded  that  neither  death,  nor  life,  nor 
 angels,  nor  principalities,  nor  powers,  nor  things 
 present,  nor  things  to  come,  nor  height,  nor  depth, 
 nor  any  other  creature,  shall  be  able  to  separate  us 
 from  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our 
 Lord.”  And  what  were  his  reasons  for  this  per¬ 
 suasion  ?  Did  it  proceed  from  confidence  in  himself? 
 No:  “  We  are  more  than  conquerors,”  says  he, 
 ££  through  him  that  loved  us.”  To  ££  the  saints  in 
 Christ  Jesus  which  are  at  Philippi,”  he  says,  I  am 
 ££  confident  of  this  very  thing,  that  he  which  hath 
 begun  a  good  work  in  you,  will  perform  it  until  the 
 day  of  Jesus  Christ.”  And  the  Saviour  says,  that 
 his  ££  sheep” — those  that  ££  hear  his  voice” — ££  shall 
 never  perish,”  and  that  he  will  ££  give  unto  them 
 eternal  life.”  To  believe  that  any  who  have  been 
 truly  regenerated,  will  totally  fall  away  and  perish, 
 would  therefore,  in  my  view,  be  to  impeach  the 
 faithfulness  of  God. 
 
 Some  have  thought  that  the  belief  of  this  doctrine 
 is  calculated  to  make  us  remiss  in  the  performance 
 of  duty ;  that  it  tends  to  make  us  relax  our  exertions 
 to  live  near  to  God,  and  to  glorify  him  by  a  life  of 
 devotedness  to  his  service.  The  speculative  belief 
 of  it  may,  indeed,  produce  this  effect  upon  the  for¬ 
 malist  and  the  hypocrite ;  but  the  belief  of  it  with 
 the  heart  will  have  no  such  influence  upon  the  real 
 Christian.  And  the  reason  is  this — the  former 
 performs  all  his  duties  solely  because  he  feels  that 
 he  must  perform  them  to  get  to  heaven ;  while  the 
 latter  endeavours  to  be  faithful  chiefly  because  he 
 
60 
 
 loves  the  service  of  God  for  its  own  sake.  The 
 former  is  entirely  actuated  by  selfish  principles ;  the 
 latter,  though  he  values  the  welfare  of  his  soul,  is 
 principally  actuated  by  a  regard  to  the  glory  of  God. 
 The  consequence  is,  that  the  former,  when  he  thinks 
 he  is  safe,  omits  or  slightly  performs  duties  which 
 he  never  loved,  because  he  has  no  further  use  for 
 them,  as  his  own  end  is,  he  thinks,  accomplished ; 
 whereas  the  latter  performs  them  still,  though  he  has 
 attained  the  assurance  of  hope,  not  as  a  duty  only, 
 but  as  a  pleasure.  His  confidence  of  being  person¬ 
 ally  interested  in  that  covenant  which  is  ordered  in 
 all  things  and  sure,  makes  him,  if  possible,  more 
 desirous  than  he  was  before  he  attained  to  such  a 
 measure  of  grace,  to  glorify,  by  a  well-ordered  life 
 and  conversation,  that  God,  the  breadth  and  length, 
 and  depth  and  height,  of  whose  love  for  his  soul  he 
 finds  pass  his  knowledge.  The  saints  in  heaven 
 know  assuredly  that  they  shall  never  fall  from  grace; 
 but  this  does  not  damp  the  ardour  of  their  love  and 
 zeal.  This  very  knowledge  increases  the  rapture 
 with  which  they  give  glory  to  Him  who  redeemed 
 them  unto  God  by  his  blood,  c<  out  of  every  kindred, 
 and  tongue,  and  people,  and  nation.,, 
 
 Were  I  not  writing  to  a  friend,  and  had  you  not 
 requested  my  opinion  upon  the  several  subjects  men¬ 
 tioned  in  your  letter,  I  should  consider  some  apology 
 necessary  for  the  character  and  length  of  this  reply. 
 In  the  present  case,  however,  it  is  unnecessary. 
 
61 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  N.  H. 
 
 Killingworth ,  December  20,  1808. 
 
 I  have  been  reading  Foster’s  Essays.  I  admire 
 them  greatly.  You  recollect,  I  presume,  what  he 
 says  respecting  romantic  friendship.  I  fear  his  re¬ 
 marks  are  too  true.  He  is  certainly  a  man  of  great 
 discernment,  and  has  an  extensive  knowledge  of  hu¬ 
 man  nature.  I  was  surprised  to  observe  with  what 
 facility  he  makes  the  minutest  events  in  nature  sub¬ 
 servient  to  the  design  of  his  work ;  and  how  even 
 those  circumstances  or  occurrences  of  life  which  we 
 should  judge  of  no  importance,  are,  by  him,  recorded 
 with  an  accuracy  of  recollection  which  we  admire, 
 and  an  energy  of  expression  which  makes  them  more 
 fully  illustrate  his  ideas  than  perhaps  any  thing  else 
 could  have  done.  The  Essay  on  Decision  of  Char¬ 
 acter  is  an  admirably  well-executed  piece ;  and  were 
 the  world  more  virtuous,  we  should  rejoice  in  its 
 principles  being  instilled  into  every  breast.  Ardour 
 and  invincibility  in  a  good  cause,  would  be  the  source 
 of  numberless  blessings  to  the  world.  But  when  we 
 consider  the  depraved  state  of  the  minds  and  morals 
 of  men,  I  think  we  have  reason  to  bless  the  benevo¬ 
 lent  Parent  of  the  universe,  that  he  has  not  endowed 
 a  greater  number  of  individuals  with  this  fixedness 
 of  determination  in  any  favourite  pursuit ;  as  from  it, 
 when  not  controlled  by  virtuous  principle,  must  result 
 innumerable  and  unheard  of  dangers  and  distresses. 
 Were  it  probable  that,  with  all  this  inflexibility  of 
 temper,  the  influential  motives  which  prompted  the 
 execution  of  any  design  would  be  good — and  that  the 
 
62 
 
 heart  which  was  the  subject  of  this  firmness  and  de¬ 
 cision  would  be  capable  of  that  refinement,  humanity, 
 and  deference  to  the  opinions  of  others,  which  cha¬ 
 racterize  beings  of  a  more  flexible  stamp, — we  might 
 wish  every  person  in  possession  of  it ;  as  virtue  and 
 the  good  of  all  mankind  would  be  the  ultimate  object 
 to  which  all  its  energies  would  be  directed.  These, 
 however,  Foster  himself  acknowledges  are  rarely 
 united;  and  he  regrets,  that  almost  all  the  examples 
 of  decision  which  he  mentions  are  among  the  cruel 
 and  tyrannical  part  of  mankind.  The  reason,  you 
 recollect,  which  he  assigns  for  it  is,  that  a  man  of 
 a  decided  character  will,  almost  unavoidably,  become 
 indifferent  to  the  opinions  and  advice  of  others ;  or, 
 from  a  consciousness  of  possessing  superior  talents, 
 consider  himself  as  having  an  almost  exclusive  right 
 of  judging,  and  therefore,  condemn  all  opinions  which 
 do  not  exactly  coincide  with  his.  Such  a  man  would, 
 I  should  think,  become  a  cynic  or  misanthrope,  a  tor¬ 
 ture  to  himself,  and  a  source  of  misery  to  his  friends ; 
 more  especially,  if  he  had  not  some  great  object  in 
 view,  to  employ  his  time  and  attention ;  or,  most  of 
 all,  if  his  schemes  should,  in  the  end,  disappoint  his 
 expectations. 
 
 TO  MISS  L.  OF  N.  H. 
 
 Killingworthi  January  20,  1809. 
 
 The  subject  of  your  letter,  my  dear  friend,  is  one 
 of  infinite  importance,  and  certainly  claims  our  first 
 and  most  earnest  attention.  Could  we  realize  the 
 tremendous  consequences  connected  with  it,  we 
 should,  I  think,  cease  to  view  it  with  so  much  su- 
 
63 
 
 pineness  and  indifference,  and  give  it  that  careful 
 consideration  which  it  deserves.  When  we  reflect, 
 that  upon  our  possessing  real  religion  depends  our 
 happiness,  both  for  time  and  eternity — that  the  least 
 mistake  may  be  productive  of  evils,  the  nature  and 
 extent  of  which  exceed  our  powers  of  conception — 
 and  that  this  religion  must  be  diligently  sought  for, 
 before  it  can  be  obtained, — we  must  surely,  unless 
 our  hearts  are  totally  blinded  by  sin,  and  harder 
 than  the  nether  millstone,  be  excited  to  exclaim  with 
 sincerity  and  earnestness,  ((  What  must  I  do  to  be 
 saved  ?”  It  is  a  small  thing  to  profess  Christianity, 
 to  acquire  a  theoretical  knowledge  of  its  doctrines, 
 to  speak  of  its  nature  and  excellence,  and,  in  a  Pha¬ 
 risaical  manner,  to  mould  our  external  behaviour  to 
 its  precepts  :  to  do  all  this  is  but  a  small  thing ;  but 
 when  done,  if  unaccompanied  with  that  grace  of  God, 
 which  is  like  a  refiner’s  fire  or  the  fuller’s  soap,  it  is 
 but  washing  the  outside  of  the  cup  and  platter,  while 
 inwardly  we  are  full  of  corruption.  The  work  of 
 sanctification  is  a  great  work,  which  nothing  but  the 
 mighty  power  of  God  can  accomplish ;  for  who  but 
 he  can  bring  a  clean  thing  out  of  an  unclean,  and 
 release  the  creature,  sold  under  sin,  from  his  bondage 
 to  Satan,  when  he  is  himself  opposed  to  his  deliver¬ 
 ance,  and  bring  him  into  the  glorious  liberty  of  the 
 sons  of  God?  But,  great  as  is  the  work,  and  di¬ 
 verse  as  it  is  from  any  thing  which  men  or  devils 
 can  effect,  it  is  nevertheless  one  which  Satan  and  the 
 corruptions  of  our  own  hearts  use  all  their  efforts  to 
 counterfeit.  The  adversary,  we  are  told,  can  e(  trans¬ 
 form  himself  into  an  angel  of  light,”  and  <c  the  heart 
 is  deceitful  above  all  things  and  desperately  wicked.” 
 
64 
 
 On  these  two  affecting  and  alarming  truths,  is  reared 
 that  strong  delusion  by  which  so  many  are  led  blind¬ 
 fold  to  eternal  despair.  How  necessary  then  is  it 
 that  we  should,  frequently  and  carefully,  examine 
 ourselves  whether  we  be  in  the  faith  !  My  dear  M. 
 when  looking  into  this  heart  of  mine,  and  finding  so 
 many  sinful  propensities  existing  and  operating  with¬ 
 in  it,  I  am  sometimes  led  to  fear,  almost  to  conclude, 
 that  I  have  never  yet  been  renewed  in  the  spirit  of 
 my  mind.  Oh  the  infinite  consequences  depending 
 upon  our  embracing,  from  the  heart,  that  religion, 
 and  being  the  subjects  of  that  repentance  and  faith, 
 without  which  we  shall  not  be  saved !  I  cannot, 
 even  to  you,  fully  express  my  feelings  on  this  inter¬ 
 esting  and  all-important  subject;  it  is  too  vast  and 
 solemn  in  its  nature  and  consequences.  I  can  only 
 say,  “  Search  me,  O  God,  and  know  my  heart ;  try 
 me,  and  know  my  thoughts  :  and  see  if  there  be  any 
 wicked  way  in  me,  and  lead  me  in  the  way  ever¬ 
 lasting.”  I  do  think,  however,  notwithstanding  the 
 many  reasons  I  have  to  entertain  doubts  respecting 
 my  conversion,  that  Christianity  is  to  me  all  in  all. 
 Were  the  religion  of  Jesus  torn  from  me,  I  should 
 be  like  the  mariner,  without  a  compass  or  a  bark,  in 
 the  midst  of  a  tempestuous  ocean.  I  should  not 
 know  whither  to  direct  my  despairing  eyes,  for  hope 
 in  this  life,  or  happiness  in  the  life  to  come.  Some¬ 
 times  I  have  a  hope  that  I  am  one  of  Christ’s  little 
 ones,  and  feel  as  if  I  could  exclaim  with  the  Psalmist, 
 64  O  how  I  love  thy  law  !”  But  these  precious  sea¬ 
 sons  do  not  last  long,  and  I  again  doubt,  whether 
 the  joys  I  then  felt  were  not  the  fruit  of  those  false 
 affections  which  the  legalist  and  the  hypocrite  may 
 
65 
 
 experience.  My  dear  friend,  let  us  pray  for  each 
 other,  that  we  may  have  faith  to  lay  hold  on  the 
 promises  of  Jehovah,  that  we  may  be  enabled  to 
 hold  on  our  way  in  the  path  of  life,  and  finally  be 
 made  pillars  in  the  temple  of  our  God,  to  go  no  more 
 out  for  ever. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  N.  Y. 
 
 Killingworth ,  February  19,  1809. 
 
 What,  my  dear  N.  would  be  our  sensations  did 
 we  suppose,  like  many  learned  infidels,  that  this  nar¬ 
 row  sphere  of  being  was  the  whole  of  our  existence. 
 Dreadful  indeed  would  be  the  thought,  that  man  was 
 destined  only  to  tread  for  a  few  short  days  this  speck 
 of  creation,  and  then  sink  to  nought !  What  could 
 ever  have  induced  cultivated  and  aspiring  minds  to 
 imbibe  notions  so  degrading  to  our  nature  as  these ; 
 notions  which  make  us  but  a  little  higher  than  the 
 beasts  that  perish,  and  which  preclude  all  desires  and 
 exertions  for  nobler  joys  than  those  of  time  and  sense  ? 
 Futurity  is  the  Christian’s  hope.  In  the  Gospel, 
 life  and  immortality  are  brought  to  light.  Death 
 shall  be  swallowed  up  of  victory.  Then  grace  shall 
 be  perfected,  and  glory  consummated.  Then  shall 
 we  know  even  as  we  are  known  :  whatever  appeared 
 mysterious  and  incomprehensible  to  our  finite  capa¬ 
 cities  shall  be  elucidated :  God  will  be  seen  to  have 
 done  all  things  well,  and  to  be  just  in  justifying  them 
 that  believe. 
 
66 
 
 TO  MISS  L.  OF  N.  H. 
 
 Killingtvorth,  March  31,  1809. 
 
 I  received  your  kind  letter,  my  beloved  M. 
 with  the  most  cordial  pleasure.  It  is  some  time  since 
 I  heard  from  my  good  friends  at  N.  H.  and  I  hope 
 I  feel  sensations  of  gratitude  to  Him  who  is  the 
 giver  of  every  good  and  perfect  gift,  that  he  has 
 preserved  you  from  sickness  and  death  until  the  pre¬ 
 sent  time,  and  that  he  has  not  withdrawn  the  pre¬ 
 cious  influences  of  his  Spirit,  but  is  still  causing  the 
 showers  of  divine  grace  to  descend  upon  your  favoured 
 town.  May  the  glorious  work  be  continued,  until 
 your  “  righteousness  shall  go  forth  as  brightness, 
 and  your  salvation  as  a  lamp  that  burneth.” 
 
 It  is  certainly  true,  my  dear  friend,  that  frequently, 
 when  there  is  an  uncommon  attention  to  religion, 
 there  is  also  an  uncommon  zeal  in  defending  or  op¬ 
 posing  things  unessential.  That  the  Christian 
 world  is  so  divided  in  its  opinions,  is  a  circumstance 
 which  must  excite  sorrow  in  the  bosom  of  every 
 member  of  the  family  of  God.  But  so  long  as  hu¬ 
 man  nature  is  subject  to  err,  and  as  long  as  there 
 are  different  doctrines  taught  by  those  who  undertake 
 to  expound  the  Scriptures  of  truth,  this  must  un¬ 
 avoidably  be  the  case.  We  are  not  to  condemn  any 
 who  differ  from  us  in  some  points  of  faith,  but  hold 
 to  the  fundamental  doctrines  of  Christianity.  A 
 proceeding  so  uncharitable  has  no  sanction  in  the 
 benevolent  and  perfect  rules  of  the  Gospel.  That 
 the  best  men  are  liable  to  embrace,  and  have  em¬ 
 braced,  errors,  is  amply  evident  from  the  least  ac- 
 
67 
 
 quaintance  with  ecclesiastical  history.  This  fact, 
 together  with  the  numerous  exhortations  in  Scrip¬ 
 ture  to  the  exercise  of  charity,  should  lead  us  to 
 view  with  candour  and  impartiality  the  opinions  of 
 others;  to  examine  them  faithfully  before  we  condemn 
 them;  and  if  we  must  condemn  them,  because  we 
 find  them  to  be  fundamental  errors,  to  do  it  in  the 
 meekness  of  the  Christian  temper.  Yet,  as  I  have 
 already  intimated,  while  we  endeavour  to  avoid  un¬ 
 just  and  uncharitable  censure  of  others  for  their  re¬ 
 ligious  opinions,  we  must  be  careful  not  to  sacrifice, 
 at  the  shrine  of  modern  ii  liberality,”  the  faith  once 
 delivered  to  the  saints ;  we  must  not  sanction,  even 
 by  our  silence,  principles  subversive  of  the  great 
 truths  inculcated  by  Christ  and  his  prophets  and 
 apostles.  There  is  a  manifest  difference  between 
 those  divisions  among  nominal  Christians,  which  re¬ 
 late  merely  to  the  externals  of  religion,  or  to  doc¬ 
 trines  which  do  not  nearly  affect  the  foundations  of 
 the  Christian  faith,  and  those  which  are  repugnant 
 or  contrary  to  the  essential  doctrines  of  the  Gospel, 
 and  which,  openly  or  secretly,  aim  at  the  basis  of 
 the  Gospel  system.  To  those  who  differ  from  us 
 in  relation  to  the  former,  we  may  and  ought  to  ex¬ 
 tend  our  fellowship.  But  errorists  of  the  latter  de¬ 
 scription  should  be  strenuously  opposed,  if  we  would 
 obey  the  divine  injunction,  to  contend  earnestly  for 
 the  faith.  We  are  not  indeed  to  oppose  them  with 
 severity  and  acrimony,  but  with  that  firmness  which 
 arises  from  a  consciousness  of  being  on  the  Lord’s 
 side ;  a  firmness  which,  while  it  precludes  our  being 
 turned  about  by  every  wind  of  doctrine,  is  accom¬ 
 panied  with  meekness  and  discretion.  In  the  primi- 
 
68 
 
 tive  church  some  were  for  Paul,  others  for  Apollos, 
 and  others  for  Cephas.  And  yet  they  may  all  have 
 been  real  disciples  of  Christ ;  for  Paul,  Apollos,  and 
 Cephas,  all  preached  (though  with  some  unimportant 
 variations,  which  were  made  the  occasions  of  those 
 divisions,)  the  same  method  of  salvation;  they  all 
 preached  Christ  crucified,  the  wisdom  of  God  and 
 the  power  of  God  unto  salvation  to  them  which  be¬ 
 lieve  ;  and  therefore  the  sincere  followers  of  each 
 were  true  Christians.  At  the  present  day,  also,  it 
 is  of  little  consequence  whether  men  are  Presby¬ 
 terians,  Episcopalians,  Methodists,  or  Baptists ;  for, 
 although  some  one  of  these  denominations  is  doubt¬ 
 less  nearer  being  right  than  the  others,  a  person  may 
 embrace  the  peculiarities  of  either,  and  yet  be  a 
 Christian.  But  it  is  of  the  highest  importance 
 whether  we  be  Orthodox,  Unitarians,  Pelagians,  or 
 Antinomians;  for  the  distinctive  principles  of  these 
 sects  immediately  affect  the  foundations  of  Christi¬ 
 anity,  and  must,  other  things  being  equal,  have  a 
 material  influence  upon  the  morals  of  mankind.  On 
 the  points  which  separate  these  classes  of  what  is 
 loosely  called  the  Christian  world,  we  cannot  be  too 
 solicitous  not  to  err ;  for  an  error  here  may  be  fatal. 
 Such,  if  I  understand  you,  is  the  distinction  which 
 you  make.  I  can  therefore  yield  an  entire  assent 
 to  your  remark,  that,  u  did  Christians  study  more  to 
 avoid  foolish  and  unprofitable  questions,  and  give 
 more  of  their  attention  to  the  essentials  of  the  Gos¬ 
 pel,  we  should  see  less  of  the  virulence  of  party 
 spirit,  and  more  of  the  fruits  of  piety.” 
 
 How  unhappy  it  is,  my  dear  friend,  that  the  little 
 family  of  Christ  should  be  so  torn  with  internal 
 
69 
 
 animosities  and  feuds ;  and  that  at  a  time  when  the 
 state  of  the  world  seems  to  render  it  peculiarly  ne¬ 
 cessary,  that  all  its  members  should  be  bound  toge¬ 
 ther  in  the  unity  of  the  Spirit,  and  in  the  bonds  of 
 peace !  At  no  period  in  the  history  of  the  church, 
 can  we  discover  so  many  and  such  powerful  efforts 
 of  the  prince  of  this  world  and  his  adherents  to 
 destroy  its  purity,  and  its  very  existence,  as  at  the 
 present  time.  What  were  the  clamours  of  the  an¬ 
 cient  Jews — what  were  the  distressing  persecutions 
 of  the  idolatrous  Gentiles — and  what  were  the  con¬ 
 temptuous  opprobriums  of  the  infidel  philosophers  of 
 former  days  capable  of  effecting  toward  the  over¬ 
 throw  of  Christianity,  compared  with  that  spirit  of 
 Antichrist  which  has  now  gone  forth  into  the  world, 
 — a  spirit  which,  while  it  professes  to  admire,  directs 
 all  its  energies  to  the  destruction  of,  the  religion  of 
 Christ  ?  The  former  gave  the  blow  openly ;  the 
 latter  gives  the  deadly  stab  in  secret.  The  former 
 depressed,  but  did  not  corrupt  the  truth ;  the  latter 
 infuses  its  poison  into  the  very  principles  of  our 
 faith,  and  leaves  us  nothing  of  Christianity  but  the 
 form  and  the  name.  Surely  these  are  46  the  last 
 times”  spoken  of  in  the  sure  word  of  prophecy,  when 
 many  shall  be  given  up  to  strong  delusions,  and  left 
 to  believe  a  lie,  and  when  faith  shall  hardly  be  found 
 on  the  earth. 
 
 But,  thanks  be  to  God,  he  is  showing  us,  by  the 
 effusions  of  his  Spirit  on  various  places,  that  he  still 
 remembers  his  church,  and  will  not  suffer  the  gates 
 of  hell  to  prevail  against  it !  And  blessed  be  his 
 name  for  the  assurance,  that  none  shall  be  able  to 
 pluck  his  real  children  out  of  the  Saviour’s  hands, 
 
70 
 
 or  prevent  his  giving  unto  them  eternal  life  !  Oh, 
 my  friend,  let  us  pray  for  each  other !  And  may 
 He,  who  is  the  believer’s  hope,  finally  present  us 
 faultless  before  the  presence  of  his  glory  with  ex¬ 
 ceeding  joy. 
 
 On  the  eighteenth  of  May,  1809,  Miss  Mans¬ 
 field  was  married  to  the  Rev.  Joshua  Huntington, 
 son  of  Gen.  Jedidiah  Huntington,  of  New  London, 
 Conn,  and  Junior  Pastor  of  the  Old  South  Church 
 in  Boston,  Mass. 
 
 The  letters,  of  which  the  following  are  extracts, 
 were  written  after  her  removal  to  Boston. 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  May  30,  1809. 
 
 Our  ride  was  very  pleasant.  I  am  delighted 
 with  the  country  around  Boston,  and  think  the  town 
 is  handsomely  situated;  and  I  doubt  not  I  shall  be 
 pleased  with  the  inhabitants.  But,  my  dear  friend, 
 flattering  as  is  the  prospect  before  us,  I  cannot  con¬ 
 template  the  responsibility  of  the  station  in  which  I 
 am  placed,  its  total  dissimilarity  to  that  to  which  I 
 have  been  accustomed,  and  the  arduous  duties  re¬ 
 sulting  from  it,  together  with  my  own  inability  to 
 perform  them  as  I  ought,  without  feeling  a  degree 
 of  anxiety  lest  I  should  be  found  wholly  unqualified 
 for  the  situation.  Did  I  not  believe  that  the  bounds 
 of  our  habitations  are  not  accidental,  but  determined 
 by  the  providence  of  God,  I  should  sink  under  the 
 
71 
 
 weight  of  responsibility  which  now  rests  upon  me. 
 But  I  do  believe  that  the  Lord  has  placed  me  here: 
 he  it  is  who  calls  me  to  the  arduous  duties  in  which 
 I  am  now  to  engage ;  and  I  desire,  I  think  I  feel  in 
 some  degree  enabled,  to  trust  in  him  for  wisdom  and 
 strength  to  guide  and  sustain  me. 
 
 O  O 
 
 I  have  as  yet  seen  but  few  of  Mr.  H.’s  congrega¬ 
 tion  ;  but  if  I  may  form  a  judgment  from  those  who 
 have  called,  I  think  I  shall  find  among  them  many 
 who  cherish  an  ardent  attachment  to  the  doctrines, 
 and  maintain  a  consistent  practice  of  the  duties,  of 
 the  Gospel,  unmoved  by  the  prevalence  of  error — 
 many  real  disciples  of  the  blessed  Jesus.  I  do  not 
 doubt,  therefore,  but  I  shall  be  happy;  for  it  is 
 chiefly  the  society  which  renders  a  place  agreeable  or 
 unpleasant. 
 
 TO  ANOTHER  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  July  20,  1809. 
 
 You  are  already  acquainted  with  Boston  and 
 some  of  its  inhabitants,  together  with  my  feelings 
 respecting  them,  and  have  been  informed  that  I  am 
 pleased  and  contented  in  my  situation.  The  town 
 is  pleasant,  the  people  hospitable  and  friendly;  and, 
 could  I  feel  as  much  complacency  in  myself  as  I  do 
 in  some  of  them,  I  should  be  very  happy.  But  you 
 know,  my  dear  E.  that  to  be  sensible  of  our  defi¬ 
 ciencies  is  one  step  taken  toward  their  removal.  I 
 do  feel  that  mine  are  many  and  great.  May  I  not 
 rest  satisfied  with  merely  acknowledging,  but  strive 
 and  be  enabled  to  amend  them. 
 
 There  are  a  few  here  (as  is  generally  the  case 
 
72 
 
 where  impiety  or  error  prevails,  if  there  are  any 
 righteous  found  there,)  who  appear  to  be  decided 
 in  their  attachment  to  real  religion,  and  strenuous  in 
 its  support,  uninfluenced  by  the  opposition  or  the 
 flatteries  of  the  contemners  and  perverters  of  the 
 faith.  Dr.  G.  has  frequently  preached  in  town  of 
 late.  I  have  strong  hopes  that  much  good  will  result 
 from  his  exertions,  and  those  of  other  clergymen  who 
 are  labouring  to  promote  the  cause  of  truth.  It  is 
 melancholy  to  see  people  disputing  about  that  Gos¬ 
 pel  which  was  designed  to  produce  nothing  but  peace 
 on  earth.  But  I  believe  that  the  overruling  provi¬ 
 dence  of  God  frequently  causes  the  most  salutary 
 effects  to  arise  from  religious  controversy.  Truth 
 never  suffers  by  investigation ;  and  it  is  evidently 
 better  to  hear  people  inquiring  what  is  truth,  than 
 quietly  embracing  error,  without  endeavouring  to  as¬ 
 certain  whether  they  are  right  or  not. 
 
 .-In  July  of  this  year,  Mrs.  Huntington  made  a 
 visit  to  her  parents.  While  with  them  she  wrote 
 several  letters  to  her  friends  in  different  parts  of  the 
 country. 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Killingworth,  August  1,  1809. 
 
 It  is  a  week  to-day,  my  dear  E.  since  I  bade 
 adieu  to  your  pleasant  town :  and  I  am  the  more 
 desirous  of  taking  this  early  opportunity  to  write 
 you,  as  I  suppose  you  will  be  anxious  to  know 
 
73 
 
 whether  I  reached  home  in  safety.  That  I  left 
 your  family  with  regret,  you  will  not  doubt;  but 
 that  the  parting  would  have  been  so  painful  as  it 
 was,  I  could  not  have  imagined.  It  was  justifiable 
 in  me  to  suffer  myself  to  become  attached  to  you : 
 situated  as  I  was,  it  would  have  been  unpardonable 
 if  I  had  not.  But  I  believe,  that  if  we  would  not 
 suffer  our  affections  to  become  so  ardent  as  we  some¬ 
 times  do,  for  those  whose  society  we  cannot  long 
 enjoy,  the  separations  we  must  experience  in  this 
 life  would  be  far  less  distressing.  Some,  however, 
 would  say,  and  perhaps  not  without  reason,  this  would 
 be  the  philosophy  of  a  Stoic. 
 
 Our  ride  was  as  pleasant  as  could  be  expected, 
 and  our  sail  as  agreeable  as  high  and  adverse  winds 
 
 o  o 
 
 would  permit.  I  found  our  family  well,  and  happy 
 to  see  me,  and  my  dear  little  native  village  appeared 
 very  lovely,  after  my  short  residence  amid  the  noise 
 and  bustle  of  a  giddy  metropolis.  Did  I  not  be¬ 
 lieve,  with  Milton,  that  the  mind  is  its  own  place, 
 and  in  itself  can  make  every  circumstance  and  situa¬ 
 tion,  merely  temporal,  productive  of  happiness  or 
 misery ;  and  did  I  not  also  believe  the  more  conso¬ 
 latory  doctrine,  that  all  things  and  events  are  under 
 the  direction  of  One  who  cannot  err,  I  should  some¬ 
 times  be  almost  disposed  to  sigh  for  the  solitude  to 
 which  my  mind  and  feelings  are  so  well  adapted. 
 But  I  trust  that  the  situation  in  which  Providence 
 has  placed  me,  if  it  exposes  me  more  to  temptation 
 than  my  former  one,  will  also  lead  me  to  more  watch¬ 
 fulness  and  caution ;  and  that  I  shall  be  enabled  to 
 fill  properly  that  station  which  is  44  a  call  to  duty,  not 
 a  discharge  from  care.” 
 
 D 
 
 41 
 
74 
 
 TO  THE  SAME. 
 
 Killingivorth,  September  9,  1809. 
 
 You  will  be  pleased  to  hear  that  the  attention  to 
 religion  in  this  place  rather  increases  than  subsides. 
 New  instances  of  conviction  occur  almost  daily.  I 
 trust  that  the  shower  of  divine  grace,  which  is  but 
 just  begun,  will  not  cease  until  it  has  plentifully 
 watered  this  dry  and  thirsty  ground.  Heaven  grant 
 it  may  not.  It  is  a  cause  of  lamentation,  that  the 
 Christian  world  is  so  divided  in  opinion,  and  that  the 
 religion  of  Jesus,  which  is  calculated  to  produce  only 
 peace  among  its  disciples,  should  so  often  be  made, 
 by  them,  an  occasion  for  animosity  and  dissension. 
 But  so  it  is,  and  will  be,  so  long  as  men  are  subject 
 to  deception,  and  possess  the  frailties  of  fallen  hu¬ 
 manity.  We  see  that  the  world  is  torn  with  civil 
 as  well  as  religious  dissensions,  and  that  people  dis¬ 
 agree  about  every  thing  else,  as  well  as  about  reli¬ 
 gion  :  and  therefore  we  know  that  it  is  not  Chris- 
 tianity  which  produces  the  tumults  of  controversy. 
 
 The  essential  doctrines  of  the  gospel  should  be 
 earnestly,  though  prudently  maintained,  for  these  are 
 the  foundation  of  the  Christian  system ;  as,  for  in¬ 
 stance,  the  deity  and  the  atonement  of  Christ,  and 
 the  entire  depravity  of  human  nature.  Take  away 
 either  of  these,  and  the  whole  gospel  system  is  le¬ 
 velled  with  the  dust.  When  pleading  for  charity 
 and  liberty  of  conscience,  we  must  be  careful  not  to 
 suffer  ourselves  to  consider  doctrines  as  unimportant; 
 for  if,  as  is  often  said,  it  is  no  matter  what  a  man  be¬ 
 lieve,  if  he  is  only  sincere,  we  might  as  well,  so  far 
 
75 
 
 as  our  prospects  for  eternity  are  concerned,  be  grop¬ 
 ing  in  the  darkness  of  Paganism,  as  sitting  under  the 
 sunshine  of  the  gospel.  This  is  a  charity  of  which 
 Christ  and  his  apostles  certainly  knew  nothing ;  and 
 it  is  as  prejudicial  to  the  cause  of  religion,  as  it  is 
 absurd  in  the  view  of  reason.  But  about  forms ,  it 
 appears  to  me,  we  are  by  far  too  fastidious.  Faith 
 and  repentance  are  required  of  us  in  order  to  salva¬ 
 tion,  and  these  may  be  experienced  in  every  denomi¬ 
 nation  where  the  fundamentals  of  Christianity  are 
 received. 
 
 The  reason,  my  dear  E.  of  my  making  these  re¬ 
 marks  is,  that  I  was  thinking  how  unhappy  it  is  that 
 there  is  so  much  disputing  here  about  baptism  and 
 communion.  The  virulence  of  party  spirit  is  ex¬ 
 ceedingly  apt  to  eat  out  the  vitals  of  pure  religion ; 
 and  it  pains  me  to  behold  many,  apparently,  more 
 desirous  to  gain  disciples  to  their  own  distinctive,  but 
 unessential  opinions,  than  to  direct  perishing  souls 
 to  Christ.  There  is  no  doubt  that  some  of  the  va¬ 
 rious  modes  of  worship  are  more  agreeable  to  the 
 example  of  the  primitive  Christians  and  the  spirit  of 
 the  New  Testament  than  others,  and  it  is  unques¬ 
 tionably  desirable  to  ascertain  and  practise  those 
 modes.  Yet  if,  by  the  influence  of  circumstances, 
 we  are  led  to  prefer  worshipping  God  in  some  of 
 those  other  ways,  I  cannot  think  it  is  an  error  for 
 which  we  shall  be  condemned.  I  could  wish  all 
 Christians  were  united  in  worshipping  Jehovah  in 
 the  same  manner;  but  I  esteem  it  the  principal 
 thing  to  worship  him  in  spirit  and  in  truth . 
 
 d  2 
 
76 
 
 TO  THE  SAME. 
 
 Killingworth ,  October  11,  1809. 
 
 I  received  your  father’s  letter  last  week.  The 
 intelligence  it  contained  of  the  death  of  your  beloved 
 sister,  was  truly  distressing.  The  consolations  of 
 the  religion  of  Christ,  my  dear  E.  invariably  support 
 the  mind,  if  we  have  faith  to  apply  them  to  our¬ 
 selves  ;  and  these  only  can  support  it  when  called  to 
 endure  trials  like  yours.  Your  affliction  is  indeed 
 great,  and  your  loss  no  common  one.  In  this  light 
 you  are  allowed  to  view  it.  Resignation  does  not 
 imply  insensibility.  But  still,  a  sense  of  the  great¬ 
 ness  of  our  loss  should  never  be  suffered  to  produce 
 feelings  of  dissatisfaction  with  the  dispensations  of 
 Providence.  God  has  a  right  to  visit  us  with  greater 
 as  well  as  with  less  judgments ;  and  it  is  our  duty 
 to  be  proportionally  humbled  and  improved.  If 
 they  promote  these  ends,  they  are  only  mercies  in 
 a  more  unpleasant  form ;  for,  as  has  been  well  re¬ 
 marked,  <e  whatever  draws  us  nearer  to  God  cannot 
 be  real  adversity,  and  whatever  entices  us  from  him 
 deserves  not  the  name  of  prosperity.”  Could  we 
 view  objects  in  their  proper  light,  many  of  those 
 things  which  now  overwhelm  us  with  sorrow  would 
 appear  desirable. 
 
 How  happy  it  is  for  us  that  our  lot  is  not  at  our 
 own  disposal.  Were  it  so,  I  am  certain  we  should 
 be  wretched;  for  the  deficiency  of  our  judgments,  in 
 connection  with  our  love  of  present  ease,  would  lead 
 us  to  reject  those  afflictions,  which,  like  some  unplea¬ 
 sant  but  salutary  medicine,  are  bitter  to  the  taste, 
 
 i 
 
77 
 
 but  necessary  to  existence  and  health ;  and  to  grasp 
 too  eagerly  those  enjoyments  which,  if  unaccompanied 
 with  sanctifying  grace,  only  corrupt  and  vitiate  the 
 mind,  and  render  the  possession  of  them  wearisome, 
 and  the  deprivation  of  them  insupportable,  and  which 
 destroy  both  the  means  and  the  power  of  attaining 
 true  happiness,  by  drawing  us  away  from  Him,  with¬ 
 out  whom  we  can  no  more  acquire  it,  than  animal 
 life  can  be  supported  without  breath.  Let  us  always 
 rejoice  that  God  reigns,  and  that  we  are  entirely  at 
 his  disposal.  How  consolatory  the  thought !  for  the 
 Judge  of  all  the  earth  will  do  right.  Let  us,  my 
 dear  sister,  by  this  “  awful  warning  heaven  has  sent,” 
 learn  to  esteem  every  thing  in  this  life  according  to 
 its  proper  value.  Whatever  cannot  be  depended 
 upon,  should  never  be  trusted.  Let  us  therefore 
 cease  to  hope  for  happiness  from  the  evanescent 
 pleasures  of  life,  and  fix  our  eyes  and  our  hearts 
 upon  those  things  which  shall  survive  when  heaven 
 and  earth  have  passed  away. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  B. 
 
 Killingvcorth ,  October  16,  1809. 
 
 You  have,  I  understand,  been  disappointed  about 
 obtaining  Dr.  K.  This,  according  to  man’s  judg¬ 
 ment,  appears  to  be  an  inauspicious  circumstance  to 
 your  church.  But  very  likely,  nay  most  assuredly, 
 it  is  designed  to  accomplish  important  purposes,  and 
 will  be  seen  to  have  been  productive  of  good  in  the 
 end.  Perhaps  you  trusted  too  much  in  an  arm  of 
 flesh,  and  this  is  to  teach  you  that  all  the  power  is 
 of  God,  and  to  lead  you  to  exercise  stronger  faith  in 
 
78 
 
 him  alone,  without  whose  gracious  assistance  and 
 blessing,  every  human  effort  to  advance  the  Re¬ 
 deemer’s  kingdom  will  be  ineffectual.  It  is  very 
 desirable  that  you  should  obtain  a  faithful  minister, 
 one  who  will  preach  the  truth  in  its  simplicity,  and 
 who  will  not  fear  to  declare  the  whole  counsel  of  God. 
 And  such  a  one,  I  trust,  you  will  obtain.  The  peo¬ 
 ple  of  B.  have  many  prayers,  and  the  effectual  fer¬ 
 vent  prayer  of  the  righteous  availeth  much.  We 
 believe  that  you  will  yet  have  a  time  of  refreshing 
 from  the  presence  of  the  Lord.  There  are  many  real 
 Christians  in  that  favoured  metropolis.  But  some 
 of  them,  though  they  are  not  dead  are  sleeping. 
 How  necessary  is  watchfulness  in  order  to  preserve 
 spiritual  communion  with  the  sacred  Three,  with¬ 
 out  which  the  Christian  cannot  be  happy ;  for  luke¬ 
 warmness  in  religion  is  as  inimical  to  our  enjoyment 
 as  it  is  offensive  to  God. 
 
 TO  MISS  L.  OF  N.  H. 
 
 Boston ,  January  1,  1810. 
 
 Through  the  kindness  of  Providence,  I  reached 
 this  place  in  safety ;  and  now  you  doubtless  wish  to 
 know  where  and  how  I  am  situated.  We  have 
 been  keeping  house  seven  or  eight  weeks,  and  as  I 
 have  for  company  one  to  whom  the  management  of 
 a  family  is  familar,  I  get  along  very  well.  Happi¬ 
 ness  I  find,  is  confined  to  no  particular  state  or 
 place;  and  I  can  say  with  the  Psalmist,  (I  wish  it 
 were  with  the  same  pious  gratitude,)  “  Goodness 
 and  mercy  have  followed  me  all  the  days  of  my  life.” 
 I  also  find,  as  I  have  always  found,  that  no  situation 
 
79 
 
 is  exempt  from  trouble  ;  and,  while  surrounded  by 
 blessings  which  demand  my  thankful  acknowledg¬ 
 ments,  I  see  and  feel  in  myself,  and  in  those  about 
 me,  numberless  evils  which  excite  pain,  and  should 
 produce  humiliation.  To  the  soul  which  can,  with 
 unshaken  faith,  repose,  not  only  its  own  cares,  but 
 those  of  others  in  whom  it  is  interested,  on  the  arm  of 
 Him  who  is  mighty  to  save;  and  which  can  view  every 
 event,  whatever  be  its  nature  or  effects,  as  necessary 
 to  answer  some  wise  design  of  Providence,  nothing 
 can  be  so  distressing  as  entirely  to  break  its  peace. 
 
 The  truth  of  this  remark  is,  I  think,  evinced  by 
 the  conduct  of  some  Christians  in  this  place,  who, 
 though  they  mourn  the  sad  declension  of  vital  piety 
 here,  are  filled  with  joy  and  confidence  in  God,  and 
 feel  that,  should  the  times  grow  darker  and  darker, 
 they  could  still  trust  in  Him  who  is  able  to  dispel 
 the  clouds  of  ignorance  and  sin  which  hang  over  us, 
 and  cause  “  the  righteousness  of  Zion  to  go  forth  as 
 brightness,  and  the  salvation  thereof  as  a  lamp  that 
 burneth.”  Nor  does  the  persuasion,  that  when  God 
 sees  it  most  for  his  glory  to  pour  out  his  Spirit  upon 
 us  he  will  do  it,  lead  them  to  indulge  in  supineness 
 and  indifference  in  requesting  it,  and  using  the  means 
 to  obtain  it ;  for  they  remember  that  the  promise  is 
 made  to  those  who  ask  and  knock,  and  seek  and 
 strive,  and  that  God  has  said  he  will  be  inquired  of 
 by  the  house  of  Israel  to  do  these  things  for  them. 
 I  believe,  however,  that  this  high  degree  of  grace  is 
 acquired,  and  retained  without  interruption,  by  very 
 few ;  though  it  is  the  duty,  and,  but  for  our  wicked¬ 
 ness,  might  be  the  privilege,  of  all  believers  to  acquire 
 and  preserve  it. 
 
80 
 
 As  to  my  own  feelings  in  reference  to  the  spiritual 
 condition  of  the  thousands  around  me,  I  acknowledge 
 with  shame,  that  they  are  very  different  from  what 
 they  should  be.  At  times,  I  feel  a  desire  for  their 
 salvation,  and  a  conviction  that  God  is  not  far  off. 
 Sometimes  I  feel  almost  confident  that  he  will  soon 
 cause  the  glorious  rays  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness 
 to  shine  upon  us,  with  a  power  seldom  before  seen, 
 because  the  darkness  is  greater  than  has  commonly 
 been  known.  At  other  times  I  am  almost  led  to  ask 
 if  the  Lord  has  forgotten  to  be  gracious,  and  cast  off 
 his  people  for  ever;  or  I  grow  unmindful  of  the 
 alarming  situation  of  the  impenitent,  and  feel  little 
 solicitude  for  the  revival  of  the  work  of  God.  And, 
 in  reference  to  my  own  situation,  I  sometimes  feel  as 
 if  the  lines  had  fallen  to  me  in  pleasant  places,  and 
 think  my  spiritual  privileges  greater  than  ever ;  and 
 at  other  times,  I  almost  exclaim,  6i  Woe  is  me,  that  I 
 sojourn  in  Mesech,  and  dwell  in  the  tents  of  Kedar  !” 
 I  know  I  am  inexcusable  for  this  inconstancy  of  reli¬ 
 gious  feeling ;  but  you  would  be  less  surprised  at  it, 
 if  you  saw  and  heard  the  different  persons  I  see,  the 
 different  sermons  I  hear,  and  the  different  conversa¬ 
 tions  I  have.  At  one  time  I  hear  a  sermon  exalting 
 to  the  pinnacle  of  praise,  human  virtue,  and  the  ex¬ 
 cellence  of  our  nature,  and  calling  upon  those  to  whom 
 it  is  addressed,  to  improve  those  good  tendencies  which 
 they  naturally  possess,  and  which,  if  cultivated,  will 
 lead  to  holiness  and  to  heaven.  At  another  time  I 
 hear  a  sermon,  written  with  all  the  energy  which  the 
 arguments,  persuasions,  and  truths  of  Christianity 
 can  give  to  a  discourse — an  energy  in  the  cause  of 
 truth  which  appears  almost  irresistible.  Sometimes 
 
81 
 
 I  talk  with  a  Christian  whose  every  word  breathes 
 faith,  humility,  and  love,  and  pours  into  my  soul  com¬ 
 fort  and  instruction.  Soon  after,  with  another  pro¬ 
 fessed  Christian,  who  will  maintain  that  truths,  for 
 which  martyrs  suffered  the  loss  of  all  things,  even  of 
 life,  are  unimportant.  These  things  perhaps,  as  I 
 have  already  remarked,  would  not  affect,  so  as  to  de¬ 
 stroy  his  peace  and  his  confidence  in  God,  one  who 
 possessed  that  strong  faith  which  views  every  thing, 
 moral  as  well  as  natural  evil,  as  under  the  divine  di¬ 
 rection  and  control.  But,  alas  !  though  I  know  that 
 God  reigns,  and  that  not  a  sparrow  falleth  to  the 
 around  without  our  Father,  I  sometimes  sink  into 
 
 o 
 
 despondency  and  unbelief. 
 
 When  are  S.  and  E.  to  be  married  ?  Dear  girls  ! 
 I  hope  they  will  be  happy  in  this  state,  which  must 
 be  very  happy,  or  very  miserable.  I  am  no  advocate 
 for  cold  esteem  only,  between  those  who  are  to  live 
 together,  and  in  so  close  a  connection  through  life. 
 But  I  believe  extravagant,  misjudged  attachment, 
 misleads  more  than  that  of  an  opposite  character.  If 
 the  understanding  and  judgment  condemn  what  the 
 passions  only  approve,  and  if  this  is  the  substance  of 
 the  love  which  is  to  unite  husband  and  wife,  there  is 
 great  danger  of  its  proving  like  a  fire  of  dry  stubble, 
 which,  though  it  may  burn  to  the  skies  for  the  pre¬ 
 sent  moment,  soon  dies  away,  to  be  enkindled  no  more. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  N.  Y. 
 
 Boston ,  January  14,  1810. 
 
 I  am  happy  that  you  estimate  your  religious  pri¬ 
 vileges  so  highly.  I  believe  your  remark,  that  they 
 
 d  3 
 
S°2 
 
 are  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  those  of  any  other  place, 
 is  correct ;  it  is  unquestionably  correct,  if  the  com¬ 
 parison  extends  to  other  parts  of  America  only.  And 
 perhaps  there  is  not  another  place  in  the  world  that 
 has,  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  its  clergy,  so 
 many  pious,  evangelical,  and  great  men  among  its 
 ministers,  as  N.  Y.  The  inhabitants  ought  to  feel 
 that  their  mercies  are  peculiar,  and  strive,  by  earnest 
 endeavours,  to  improve  them,  to  secure  their  conti¬ 
 nuance.  But  though  religious  privileges  are  greater 
 in  some  places  than  in  others,  thanks  be  to  God  they 
 are  unspeakably  great  wherever  the  gospel  emits  its 
 unerring  light.  With  this  infallible  guide  in  our 
 hands,  and  the  grace  of  God  in  our  hearts,  there  is 
 fear  of  nothing  but  remissness  in  searching  out  its 
 divine  truths,  and  of  embracing  errors ;  not  because 
 we  have  not  the  means  of  knowledge,  but  for  the 
 want  of  a  disposition  to  improve  them. 
 
 My  dear  iriend,  when  we  think  of  the  various 
 spiritual  privileges  with  which  we  have  been  blessed 
 from  infancy,  with  what  contrition  ought  our  hearts 
 to  be  filled,  that  we  gained  so  little  with  the  talents 
 entrusted  to  us  !  I  speak  of  us  both,  because  I  am 
 sure  my  dear  N.  will  not  say,  6  I  am  not  culpable 
 here and  though  I  hope  she  is  far  less  so  than  I 
 am,  I  know  we  must  all  consider  ourselves  as  mere 
 cumberers  of  the  ground  compared  with  what  we 
 should  be.  I  hope,  my  beloved  friend,  we  are  not 
 entirely  blind  to  the  concerns  of  eternity.  I  hope 
 God  has  taught  us  by  his  grace,  that  happiness  is  in 
 him  alone ;  and  not  only  taught  us  this,  but  enabled 
 us,  through  faith  in  his  Son,  to  lay  hold  on  it  for 
 ourselves.  This  hope  is  a  presumptuous  one,  like 
 
83 
 
 the  hope  of  the  hypocrite  which  shall  perish,  unless 
 we  have  those  evidences  of  its  genuineness  which 
 are  mentioned  in  the  Scriptures ;  such  as  habitual 
 communion  with  God,  daily  seeking,  in  faith,  from 
 Christ,  forgiveness  for  the  past  and  strength  for  the 
 future,  voluntary  denying  of  ourselves,  abstraction 
 from  the  world,  &c.  And  when  I  behold  in  how 
 small  a  degree  these  evidences  are  in  myself,  I  some¬ 
 times  fear  that  I  am  yet  without  God  and  without 
 hope  in  the  world.  Remembering,  therefore,  that 
 many  come  almost  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven  who 
 never  enter  it,  and  that  there  is  great  danger  of  our 
 being  deceived,  let  us  examine  ourselves  whether  we 
 are  indeed  in  the  faith,  and  strive  to  make  our  call¬ 
 ing  and  election  sure,  lest,  when  weighed  in  the  bal¬ 
 ance,  we  be  found  wanting. 
 
 You  ask  my  opinion  of  c  Thornton  Abbey/  I 
 regret  that  I  am  unable  to  give  it.  Through  some 
 misunderstanding  between  Mr.  Huntington  and  my¬ 
 self,  when  I  was  in  Connecticut,  each  of  us  thought 
 the  other  had  subscribed  for  it.  It  is  doubtless  a 
 fine  work.  We  may  reasonably  presume  so  from  its 
 having  the  recommendation  of  Andrew  Fuller.  You 
 have  probably  seen  fi  Ccelebs,’  the  late  fashionable 
 work  of  Miss  Hannah  More.  It  has  been  highly 
 celebrated,  and  I  think  justly.  Perhaps  books  of 
 this  sort,  in  which  religious  sentiments  are  inculcated 
 under  the  form  of  a  story,  are  calculated  to  do  more 
 good  to  a  certain  class  of  society  than  any  other,  I 
 mean  to  those  who  read  merely  for  amusement. 
 They  would  fly  from  any  thing  exclusively  didactic, 
 but,  being  allured  by  the  fictitious  part  of  a  work 
 like  this,  might  read  it,  and  perhaps  meet  with  that 
 
84 
 
 conviction  which,  notwithstanding  its  promises  to 
 amuse,  it  is  calculated  to  produce. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  N.  H. 
 
 Boston ,  March  14,  1810. 
 
 When  the  faith  of  Christians  meets  with  much 
 opposition,  when  they  feel  that  there  is  no  middle 
 ground;  that  they  must,  with  firmness,  declare  for 
 Christ  or  the  world,  and  resolve  to  give  up  God  or 
 Mammon,  they  are  apt  to  live  more  near  to  God, 
 and  to  experience  more  of  the  power  of  divine  grace, 
 than  when  religion  is  respectable  in  the  estimation  of 
 the  world.  And  the  reason  is  obvious;  they  feel 
 more  the  necessity  of  maintaining  continual  inter¬ 
 course  with  Him  from  whom  they  know  they  must 
 derive  strength  against  temptation,  and  grace  to  help 
 in  time  of  need.  Happy,  thrice  happy,  those  on 
 whom  opposition  produces  this  effect  !  Some  such 
 Christians  there  are  here,  who  have  long  stood  firm 
 in  their  attachment  to  the  truth,  and  in  devotedness 
 to  the  service  of  Christ. 
 
 I  have  been  reading  Milner’s  Church  History 
 this  winter,  and  am  highly  pleased  with  it.  Critics 
 would  say  Mosheim’s  is  the  most  learned;  but  Mil¬ 
 ner  s  is  by  far  the  most  evangelical,  and  will  be  far 
 more  useful,  at  least  to  private  Christians.  When 
 one  reads  church  history,  he  expects  to  find  a  history 
 of  the  Church ,  and  not  a  tiresome  detail  of  ecclesias¬ 
 tical  heresies,  wars  and  divisions,  intermixed  with 
 much  entirely  secular  information.  Something  of 
 this  is  unavoidable,  as  heresies  have  been  frequent 
 in  the  church,  and  ecclesiastical  and  profane  history 
 
are  intimately  connected ;  yet  the  reader’s  attention 
 should,  as  often  as  possible,  be  directed  to  the  real 
 church,  that  he  may  see  that  there  has  always  been 
 such  a  church,  which  he  will  be  very  likely  to  forget 
 in  reading  Mosheim  and  some  other  church  histo¬ 
 rians. 
 
 TO  ANOTHER  FRIEND  AT  N.  H. 
 
 Boston ,  March  16,  1810. 
 
 Your  situation,  my  dear  friend,  is  certainly  on 
 some  accounts  a  distressing  one.  The  fear  you  ex¬ 
 press,  lest  you  should  be  left  to  depart  from  Him, 
 under  whose  banner  you  have  enlisted,  by  reason  of 
 temptation,  is  a  fear  which  Christians,  I  believe, 
 often  feel.  When  we  reflect  on  the  disinclination 
 of  our  hearts  to  the  pursuit  of  our  highest  good,  and 
 the  opposition  to  holiness  which  remains  in  them, 
 after  its  governing  power  has  been  destroyed  by 
 grace,  it  should  humble  us.  And  when  we  feel  its 
 influence,  it  may  lead  us  to  doubt  whether  we  are  in 
 Him  who  is  the  true  God  and  eternal  life.  Yet,  let 
 us  not  be  discouraged,  for  we  can  do  all  things 
 through  Christ  strengthening  us. 
 
 How  prone  we  are,  my  dear  Miss  S.  to  exclaim 
 with  the  Patriarch,  u  All  these  things  are  against  me !” 
 when  under  affliction;  and  yet  every  Christian  will 
 at  last  find,  with  him,  that  God  meant  it  for  good. 
 If,  as  is  undoubtedly  the  fact,  we  are  inclined  to  look 
 to,  and  be  satisfied  with,  the  things  which  are  seen 
 and  temporal;  and  it'  this  disposition  is  not  only  our 
 sin,  but  our  misery,  then  what  reason  have  we  to 
 bless  God  that  he  has  so  disposed  things,  that  no 
 
86 
 
 situation  in  life  is  so  exempt  from  trouble  as  to  make 
 us  perfectly  contented  in  it  without  higher  enjoy¬ 
 ments  !  The  Christian  certainly  has  reason  to  glory 
 m  tribulation,  for  he  has  the  promise  of  God  that 
 all  things  shall  work  together  for  his  good.  And 
 consequently,  the  afflictions  he  is  called  to  endure,  so 
 far  from  overwhelming  him  with  unavailing  distress, 
 should  operate  as  renewed  excitements  to  duty  and 
 exertion. 
 
 You  will  be  pleased  to  hear  that  Mr.  Huntington 
 has,  of  late,  been  considerably  encouraged  by  the 
 moral  appearance  of  his  society.  Nothing  has  oc¬ 
 curred  deserving  the  name  of  a  revival;  but  a  spirit 
 of  inquiry  in  some,  and  of  violent  opposition  in 
 others,  begins  to  prevail.  Opposition  to  the  truth  is 
 always  to  be  regretted;  but  when  people  are  roused 
 to  ask  what  is  truth,  and  are  enlightened  to  see  that 
 there  is  really  a  great  difference  between  it  and 
 error,  though  some  reject,  and  exhibit  their  hatred 
 of  the  doctrines  of  Scripture,  we  may  hope  there 
 will  be  a  more  general  reception  of  the  truth.  The 
 greatest  danger  lies  in  men’s  believing  all  religions 
 pretty  much  alike,  and  those  who  respectively  adopt 
 them,  equally  acceptable  to  God,  if  they  are  only 
 sincere. 
 
 TO  MISS  L.  OF  N.  H. 
 
 Boston ,  November  4,  1810. 
 
 I  do  not  approve  of  people’s  constantly  complain¬ 
 ing  to  others  of  their  hearts ;  it  is,  in  general,  a  con¬ 
 cern  between  themselves  and  God  only.  But  to 
 my  dear  M.  I  may  speak  with  freedom.  And  it  is 
 
87 
 
 a  great  comfort  that  we  can  sometimes  find  a  friend 
 to  whom  we  may  communicate  the  enjoyments  or 
 discouragements  of  our  spiritual  life,  whose  affection 
 for  us  forbids  our  fearing  to  be  betrayed,  and  whose 
 experience  prevents  the  apprehensions  of  being  mis¬ 
 understood.  Such  a  friend  is  my  dear  M.  and  as 
 such,  notwithstanding  my  many  doubts  concerning 
 myself,  I  am  sure  I  love  her.  Should  we  ever  be  so 
 happy  as  finally  to  arrive  at  the  spiritual  Canaan,  and 
 be  enabled,  through  Christ,  to  claim  it  as  our  own, 
 we  shall  look  back  with  astonishment  upon  the  way 
 by  which  we  have  been  led.  And  surely  a  sense  of 
 the  innumerable  dangers  which  attended  our  journey, 
 and  the  capacity  we  shall  then  have  of  discerning  the 
 wonderful  manner  in  which  God  made  them  all  sub¬ 
 servient  to  our  progress  in  holiness,  will  greatly  swell 
 the  song,  and  enhance  the  enjoyments,  of  victory. 
 Perhaps  some  of  the  doubts  and  discouragements  of 
 the  Christian  are  of  this  kind ;  though  painful  to  be 
 borne,  they  may,  by  the  overruling  mercy  of  God, 
 be  made  to  accelerate  his  speed  in  running  the  race 
 set  before  him,  and  by  showing  him  the  necessity  of 
 doing  so,  cause  him  to  live  nearer  to  God.  That 
 my  doubts  and  discouragements  may  be  of  this  kind, 
 or  rather,  may  be  thus  overruled,  (for  I  know  they 
 are  to  be  deprecated,  and  are  highly  criminal,)  is  my 
 earnest  prayer. 
 
 • 
 
 TO  THE  SAME. 
 
 Boston ,  December  20,  1810. 
 
 I  am  pleased  that  your  journey  to  the  south  has 
 been  deferred.  But  my  pleasure  in  this,  as  I  often 
 
88 
 
 fear  it  is  in  most  other  things  from  which  I  derive 
 that  sensation,  is  selfish.  I  anticipate  the  satisfac¬ 
 tion  of  hearing  from  you  more  frequently  than  if 
 you  were  at  Charleston,  and  possibly,  of  seeing  you 
 in  the  spring.  You,  my  kind  friend,  have  been 
 more  acquainted  with  my  mental  concerns  than  any 
 one  else ;  and  I  rejoice  that  Heaven  has  blessed  me 
 with  your  acquaintance. 
 
 I  believe  there  are  many  of  Bunyan’s  66  Igno¬ 
 rances  ,”  wThose  self-deception  has  its  foundation  in 
 incorrect  apprehensions  of  Jehovah.  They  do  not 
 realize  his  infinite  abhorrence  of  all  sin ;  and  thus, 
 imagining  66  a  God  all  mercy,”  they  never  discover 
 the  native  opposition  of  their  hearts  to  his  holiness, 
 and  consequently  never  exercise  that  evangelical  re¬ 
 pentance,  founded  upon  just  views  of  the  malignant 
 nature,  and  destructive  tendency  of  sin,  without  which, 
 Christ  has  said,  we  shall  perish.  They  do  not  see 
 such  a  transcendent  excellence  and  beauty  in  holiness, 
 as  to  feel  that  every  thing  else  is,  comparatively,  of 
 no  importance,  and  that  the  destitution  of  it,  in  a 
 moral  agent,  deserves  an  endless  punishment. 
 
 I  wish  you,  my  dear  M.  to  pray  that  I  may  have 
 clearer  conceptions,  soul-transforming  conceptions,  of 
 the  adorable  perfections  of  God.  Oh  !  with  what 
 amazing  transport  of  wonder,  love,  and  astonishment, 
 does  the  view  of  them  fill  the  angels  in  heaven,  and 
 those  whose  minds  are  enlightened  to  discern  them 
 
 O 
 
 in  this  world  !  Pray  that  I  may  see  the  beauty  of 
 holiness,  and  the  deformity  of  sin,  without  that  inter¬ 
 cepting  veil  which  Satan  and  a  depraved  nature  are 
 so  apt  to  cast  over  our  minds,  when  we  attempt  to 
 view  them  in  their  true  characters. 
 
89 
 
 O  for  a  closer  walk  with  God ! 
 
 A  calm  and  heavenly  frame  ! 
 
 A  light  to  shine  upon  the  road 
 Which  leads  me  to  the  Lamb  ! 
 
 Do  you  not  think,  my  dear  M.  that  we  are  some¬ 
 times  blame-worthy  in  looking  with  too  charitable 
 an  eye  upon  the  experiences  of  others?  Is  there 
 not  reason  to  fear,  that,  at  the  judgment  day,  some 
 may  rise  up  and  accuse  us  of  having  been  the  means 
 of  lulling  them  to  sleep,  when  the  fire  of  destruction 
 was,  even  then,  in  their  bosoms  ?  Great  caution  is 
 necessary,  when  we  attempt  to  administer  consola¬ 
 tion.  I  would  rather  a  friend  should  be  too  severely 
 exact  with  me,  than  too  compassionate.  I  hope  I 
 shall  be  more  cautious  myself  in  future.  But  we, 
 my  beloved  friend,  I  humbly  hope,  however  different 
 our  experiences  may  have  been,  can  unite  with  the 
 Psalmist  in  saying,  in  the  sincerity  of  our  souls, 
 “  Examine  me,  O  Lord,  and  prove  me ;  try  my 
 reins  and  my  heart.” 
 
 Our  friend - is  to  be  married,  in  a  short  time, 
 
 to  Mr.  -  of  - ,  whose  eminent  piety  pro¬ 
 
 mises  her,  should  God  spare  their  lives,  a  long  suc¬ 
 cession  of  happy  years.  O  the  importance  of  reli¬ 
 gion  in  order  to  render  the  married  state  a  blessing  ! 
 How  important  to  render  any  situation  in  life  happy  ! 
 I  bless  God  that  I  feel  more  powerfully  than  ever 
 my  need  of  it,  and  think  I  have  more  insatiable 
 longings  after  it.  Dear,  dear  M.  what  need  is  there 
 of  careful  self-examination,  to  determine  whether  we 
 possess  it  or  not !  How  much  of  our  apparent  love 
 to  God  may  arise  solely  from  the  hope  that  he  will 
 save  us  !  how  much  from  erroneous  views  of  his 
 
90 
 
 character !  How  much  of  what  we  consider  our  re¬ 
 pentance  may  flow  merely  from  sin’s  destroying  our 
 evidences,  and  thus  taking  away  our  hope,  and  not 
 from  any  just  apprehension  of  its  malignant  nature  ! 
 Plow  much  of  our  obedience  may  spring  from  other 
 causes  than  a  desire  to  promote  the  glory  of  God! 
 How  much  of  our  faith  may  be  no  more  than  the 
 faith  of  devils— unaccompanied  with  love ;  and  which, 
 if  we  were  only  assured  of  our  acceptance  with  God, 
 would  be  altogether  unoperative  and  dead  ! 
 
 I  think  I  have  heard  you  say  you  were  not  ac¬ 
 quainted  with  Andrew  Fuller’s  works.  I  admire 
 them  very  much.  A  volume  of  Essays  by  him  has 
 lately  been  published  in  this  country.  They  are, 
 like  all  of  his  works  which  I  have  seen,  excellent.  I 
 have  been  reading  some  of  President  Edwards’  ser¬ 
 mons  lately.  I  think  they  are  even  closer  and  more 
 searching  than  his  treatise  on  the  affections. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  N.  H. 
 
 Boston ,  January  25,  1811. 
 
 1  HE  loss  you  have  sustained  in  the  death  of  your 
 brother  is  truly  great.  When  you  reflect  on  his 
 amiable  disposition,  his  talents  which  promised  so 
 much,  and  the  favour  and  affection  which  he  was  chain¬ 
 ing  from  all  who  knew  him,  you  are  doubtless  ahnost 
 ready  to  exclaim,  «  Never  was  sorrow  like  my  sor¬ 
 row.”  Our  faith  is  seldom,  if  ever,  more  tried  than 
 when  we  are  called  to  give  up  those  friends  with 
 whose  existence  our  happiness  is  materially  connected. 
 
 or  can  we,  perhaps,  have  conclusive  evidence  of  its 
 genuineness,  till  called  to  pass  through  the  furnace 
 
91 
 
 of  affliction.  The  faith  of  the  formalist  or  the  hy¬ 
 pocrite  may  appear  to  be  sound,  as  long  as  God  shed* 
 upon  him  the  unclouded  sun  of  prosperity ;  but  if  he 
 cause  clouds  and  darkness  to  overspread  his  horizon, 
 he  then  exclaims,  “  The  way  of  the  Lord  is  not  equal.” 
 It  is  a  proof  of  true  faith  to  be  able,  when  all  things 
 are  against  us,  to  lift  a  tranquil  eye  to  Him  who  sits 
 on  the  throne  of  the  heavens,  holding  the  reins  of 
 universal  dominion  in  his  hand,  and  say,  66  Just  and 
 true  are  thy  ways,  O  thou  King  of  saints !”  This 
 disposition,  my  dear  friend,  I  trust  you  feel,  though 
 it  may  be  imperfectly :  and  if  so,  you  may  be  assured 
 this  affliction  will  work  for  your  good.  Nothing  de¬ 
 serves  the  name  of  adversity  which  leads  us  to  a  more 
 perfect  knowledge  of,  and  dependence  upon,  Him 
 whose  favour  is  life,  and  whose  loving-kindness  is 
 better  than  life :  and  that  the  death  of  friends  is  de¬ 
 signed  to  have  this  effect  upon  Christians  is  unde¬ 
 niable.  Therefore,  to  the  Christian,  afflictions  are 
 as  truly  mercies  as  those  gifts  to  which  we  are  apt  to 
 appropriate  the  term. 
 
 But  perhaps  you  will  say,  6  I  fear  I  am  not  a 
 Christian/  Dear  S.  if  this  is  the  case,  I  feel  for, 
 and  mourn  with  you.  I  can  do  so,  for  my  own 
 mind  is  often  clouded  with  doubts  respecting  my 
 spiritual  state.  Nothing  is  so  distressing  as  this. 
 Any  thing  can  be  borne,  if  it  is  tempered  and  sweet¬ 
 ened  with  the  presence  and  blessing  of  God.  66  Ex¬ 
 amine  yourselves,  whether  ye  be  in  the  faith is  an 
 injunction  of  Scripture.  I  dare  not,  therefore,  say, 
 Hope  without  examining ;  but,  my  beloved  friend,  I 
 may  say,  Do  not  despond.  Look  not  to  yourself; 
 look  to  Christ,  the  Lamb  of  God  which  taketh  away 
 
92 
 
 the  sin  of  the  world.  None  of  us  need  despair,  while 
 we  have  such  a  mighty  and  merciful  Saviour  to  whom 
 we  may  repair;  who  is  the  Author  and  the  Finisher 
 of  faith ;  who  never  yet  cast  off,  who  never  will  cast 
 off,  any  who  come  to  him. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  - . 
 
 Boston,  August  15,  1811. 
 
 It  gives  me  great  pleasure,  my  dear  friend,  to 
 learn  that  you  are  so  well  pleased  with  your  new  si¬ 
 tuation,  and  that  your  society  are  so  well  pleased 
 with  you ;  which  I  learned  from  a  friend  of  yours. 
 The  approbation  of  those  with  whom  we  are  con¬ 
 nected  is  desirable,  if  it  does  not  interfere  with,  or 
 divert  us  from  duty.  Our  influence  depends  upon 
 the  opinion  others  entertain  of  us;  and  influence, 
 rightly  used,  may  promote  the  glory  of  God  and  the 
 best  interests  of  men.  I  have  no  doubt  but  my  dear 
 
 -  will  improve  every  advantage  she  may  have 
 
 from  the  estimation  of  her  friends,  to  advance  His 
 kingdom  and  cause,  to  whose  glory  our  every  talent 
 should  be  devoted.  The  wife  of  a  clergyman  is  more 
 narrowly  watched  than  almost  any  one  else.  Her 
 deviations  from  duty  are  very  seldom  overlooked ;  her 
 opinions  are  minutely  examined,  and  often  repeated. 
 She  is  thought  to  take  her  notions  of  things,  to  a  con¬ 
 siderable  extent,  from  her  husband ;  and,  of  course,  he 
 suffers  if  she  is  imprudent.  When  I  reflect  on  the 
 responsibility  of  this  situation,  I  tremble  ;  and  should 
 faint,  had  not  One,  whose  strength  I  sometimes  feel 
 as  if  I  could  lay  hold  upon,  said,  <c  My  grace  is  suf¬ 
 ficient  for  thee.” 
 
93 
 
 I  have  nothing  particularly  pleasing  of  a  religious 
 nature  to  communicate.  The  day  of  small  things  we 
 are  commanded  not  to  despise,  and  such  is  our  day. 
 It  is  matter  of  great  joy  when  any  are  hopefully 
 brought  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth ;  and  we  have 
 had  several  instances  of  young,  thoughtless,  pleasure- 
 seeking  sinners,  laying  down  the  weapons  of  their 
 rebellion,  and  enlisting  under  the  banner  of  Christ. 
 Our  lectures  and  public  exercises  are  better  attended 
 than  I  have  ever  known  them  before.  The  most 
 fixed  attention  appears  on  the  faces  of  most  of  the 
 congregation.  God  has  bestowed  the  hearing  ear; 
 he  is  equally  able  to  give  the  understanding  heart. 
 Nothing  seems  to  be  wanting  but  that  effectual,  fer¬ 
 vent  prayer  of  the  righteous,  which  availeth  much. 
 For  myself,  I  sometimes  feel  as  if  my  heart  was  en¬ 
 larged  to  pray  for  the  upbuilding  of  Zion.  And, 
 when  I  am  lifeless  in  the  duties  of  personal  religion, 
 
 I  feel  as  if  I  had  some  yearnings  of  soul  over  Christ- 
 less  sinners.  But  my  heart  is  deceitful  above  all 
 things ;  and  I  am  almost  afraid  to  think  I  feel,  lest 
 I  should  delude  myself.  Oh,  my  dear  friend,  how 
 infinitely  vile  and  abominable  must  we  appear  in  the 
 eyes  of  Him  who  can  fully  realize  what  our  feelings 
 in  relation  to  him,  to  ourselves,  and  to  sin,  should 
 be,  and  knows  exactly  what  they  are  !  Surely  we 
 must  be  stupid  if  the  thought  do  not  cause  us  to  ex¬ 
 claim,  Ci  It  is  of  the  Lord’s  mercies  that  we  are  not 
 consumed  !”  I  know  nothing  in  which  I  am  so  de¬ 
 ficient,  as  in  my  apprehensions  of  sin.  God  grant  it 
 may  be  more  and  more  opened  to  my  view  in  all  its 
 odiousness,  and  more  and  more  imbittered  to  my  soul ! 
 I  believe  the  want  of  clear  views  of  this,  the  nature 
 
94 
 
 and  vileness  of  sin,  is  the  rock  on  which  thousands 
 split.  It  is  the  want  of  this  that  makes  the  Armi- 
 nian  think  he  can  save  himself — the  Unitarian  deny 
 the  necessity  of  an  atonement  and  the  divinity  of 
 the  Saviour— and  the  Universalist,  the  eternity,  and 
 perhaps  the  reality,  of  future  punishment.  It  is  the 
 want  of  this  that  produces  those  restless  replyings 
 against  God,  which  are  ever  found  upon  the  lips  of 
 the  unregenerate.  And,  may  I  not  add,  it  is  the 
 want  of  this  which  sometimes  clouds,  distresses,  and 
 agonizes  the  Christian,  when  contemplating  the  tre¬ 
 mendous  wrath  denounced  in  Scripture  against  the 
 finally  impenitent !  Oh,  how  much  should  pro¬ 
 fessing  Christians  pray  for  each  other !  And  when 
 we  reflect  that  there  was  an  unhumbled  Judas  even 
 among  the  twelve,  how  should  it  excite  us  to  seek, 
 with  anxious  solicitude,  to  make  our  calling  and  elec¬ 
 tion  sure. 
 
 TO  MISS  L.  OF  N.  H. 
 
 Boston ,  August  30,  1811. 
 
 There  is  nothing  so  astonishing,  my  dear  M. 
 nothing  that  places  the  thorough,  universal,  and  ma¬ 
 lignant  depravity  of  our  nature  in  so  clear  a  point  of 
 view,  as  our  neglecting  to  improve  the  dealings  of 
 the  blessed  God  with  us,  which  are  all  calculated  to 
 lead  us  to  repentance,  and  then  finding  fault  with 
 him  for  not  giving  us  ability  to  love  him,  (when  all 
 our  inability  lies  in  a  criminal  aversion,  the  most  un¬ 
 reasonable  and  unjust,  to  his  perfect  character,)  and 
 making  that  inability  an  excuse  for  not  loving  him. 
 :Qh  !  could  we  view  this  subject  as  angels  view  it, 
 
95 
 
 and  as  we  shall  one  day  view  it,  it  mu§t  fill  us  with 
 wonder  and  astonishment ! — wonder  at  the  forbear¬ 
 ance  and  mercy  of  God ;  astonishment  at  the  moral 
 degradation  and  turpitude  of  man.  When  I  look 
 into  my  own  heart,  and  behold  those  endless  reply- 
 ings  against  God  which  lurk  there;  when  I  think 
 what  must  be  the  fountain  from  which  they  spring; 
 it  would  seem  as  if  I  should  be  filled  with  repent¬ 
 ance;  as  if  I  should  mourn,  with  deep  and  penitential 
 sorrow,  over  my  unspeakable,  my  amazing  guilt. 
 But  still  I  am  freezing  with  impenitence  !  ,  The  law 
 is  holy,  and  the  commandment  holy,  just,  and  good; 
 man  is  bound  to  comply  with  it ;  God  must  not  re¬ 
 lax  his  requirements :  if  he  should,  his  law  would 
 not  be  strict  enough  to  check  the  progress  and  in¬ 
 fluence  of  sin;  and  sin,  unrestrained,  would  soon 
 disorganize  his  whole  moral  system,  and  banish  hap¬ 
 piness  from  the  universe.  This  I  know  and  be¬ 
 lieve;  and  yet  I  rebel!  Yes,  the  worm  lifts  her 
 unrighteous  head,  and  asks,  66  What  doest  thou  ? 
 and  why  doest  thou  thus  ?”  This  is  what  troubles 
 me.  I  am  afraid  I  have  never  been  brought  truly 
 to  submit  all  things  to  the  disposal  of  God,  espe¬ 
 cially  to  submit  to  his  righteousness  in  the  condem¬ 
 nation  of  sinners.  I  fear  I  have  never  yet  seen 
 aright  the  dreadful  evil  of  sin,  and  that  this  is  the 
 source  of  the  misgivings  I  sometimes  experience,  as 
 to  its  just  desert  of  eternal  punishment.  But  Jeho¬ 
 vah  is,  I  know  he  is,  righteous  in  all  his  ways,  and 
 holy  in  all  his  works ;  and  he  has  said,  that  “  the 
 wicked  shall  be  turned  into  hell;  where  their  worm 
 dieth  not,  and  the  fire  shall  never  be  quenched.” 
 Hush,  then,  every  murmuring,  doubting  thought, 
 
96 
 
 every  rebellious,  discontented  feeling  !  O  for  deeper 
 views  of  the  vileness,  the  exceeding  vileness  of  sin, 
 for  stronger  and  more  abiding  confidence  in  the  rec¬ 
 titude  and  the  goodness  of  God  !  Pray  for  me ,  my 
 dear  M.  in  particular;  and  pray  for  false  professors, 
 for  it  is  to  be  feared  there  are  many  such. 
 
 My  mind,  I  ought  to  add  after  what  I  have  said, 
 is  generally  tranquil.  I  am  comfortable  in  hope;  and 
 this  is  my  hope,  that  I  have  received  something  of 
 the  grace  of  God,  and  “  he  who  has  begun  the  good 
 work,  will  perform  it  unto  the  day  of  Jesus  Christ.” 
 I  cannot  but  feel,  with  the  wife  of  Manoah,  that  if 
 the  Lord  had  not  intended  good  for  me,  he  would 
 not  have  shown  me  all  these  things. 
 
 Is  it  common  for  minds  to  recur,  with  something 
 like  melancholy,  to  past  scenes  of  a  pleasant  charac¬ 
 ter?  Or  is  my  doing  it  owing  to  a  constitutional 
 disposition  to  attach  gloom  to  every  thing  ?  I  have 
 tried  long  and  hard  to  arrive  at  the  true  answer  to 
 this  question.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the 
 emotion  to  which  I  refer,  is  peculiar  to  persons 
 whose  feelings  have  more  of  the  sensitive  and  en¬ 
 thusiastic  in  them,  than  those  of  the  rest  of  the 
 world;  and  such  are  mine.  This,  added  to  a  natu¬ 
 ral  propensity  to  pensive  reflections,  will  perhaps 
 account  for  the  effect  of  which  I  have  spoken.  Dear 
 M.  when  I  look  forward  to  the  trials  I  may  meet 
 with,  and  realize  my  own  impotence,  I  feel  that,  if  I 
 am  supported,  it  will  be  a  glorious  instance  of  the 
 power  of  God’s  grace  to  overcome  and  subdue  con¬ 
 stitutional  infirmities,  and  bear  up  the  spirit  when 
 every  thing  seems  combined  to  counteract  its  influ¬ 
 ence.  I  know  that  extreme  sensibility  is  generally 
 
97 
 
 considered  an  excellence  in  our  sex.  But  why 
 should  we,  whose  bodily  weakness  and  necessary 
 trials  subject  us  to  a  larger  portion  of  misery  than 
 men,  be  led  to  consider  that  as  amiable,  which  only 
 relaxes  those  energies  of  the  mind  which  will  prepare 
 us  for  suffering  ?  I  cannot  sufficiently  deprecate  the 
 influence  which  such  a  sentiment  may  have  upon  the 
 mind.  Women  are  too  generally  brought  up  to 
 think  resolution  useless,  and  led,  by  false  notions  of 
 delicacy,  to  glory  in  their  weakness.  But  the  voice 
 of  the  world  changes  when  circumstances  require 
 the  exercise  of  fortitude.  Then,  the  very  sensations 
 which  before  excited  pleasure,  are  considered  as  in¬ 
 dications  of  weakness  and  folly.  I  wish  women 
 would  endeavour,  in  all  proper  ways,  to  strengthen 
 their  more  vigorous  powers,  as  reason,  judgment,  &c. 
 and  pay  less  attention  to  the  cultivation  of  their 
 imagination,  which,  in  most  of  our  sex,  has  naturally 
 sufficient  vigour. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  M. 
 
 Boston ,  September  9,  1811. 
 
 I  am  pleased  to  learn  that  your  present  situation 
 is  so  agreeable,  and  your  health  so  good.  You 
 have  indeed  mercies  in  the  midst  of  judgments,  and 
 mercies  of  a  peculiarly  delightful  kind.  Nothing, 
 with  respect  to  your  departed  mother,  could  afford 
 you  so  much  satisfaction,  as  the  reflection  that  she 
 lived  not  in  vain;  and  that  she  has  only  been  removed 
 from  an  inferior  station,  (where  indeed  she  made  it 
 her  constant  effort  to  act  the  part  of  a  good  and 
 faithful  servant,  but  where  her  sphere  of  action  was 
 
 E  41 
 
98 
 
 comparatively  contracted,  her  powers  cramped,  and 
 her  conflicts  many,)  to  one  where  she  can  serve  God 
 without  weariness  or  imperfection,  and  constantly 
 witness  his  approving  smile.  I  am  not  so  much  a 
 stranger,  my  dear  E.  to  the  nature  of  your  sorrow, 
 as  to  suppose  that  you  grieve  for  her  who  is  gone. 
 You  feel  that  her  departure  from  this  world  is  her 
 gain,  though  it  be  your  loss.  But  when  you  look 
 to  yourself,  and  reflect  upon  your  impotency,  your 
 need  of  counsel,  and  your  exposure  to  temptation, 
 you  feel  the  want  of  that  friend  to  whom  you  have 
 so  long  been  in  the  habit  of  going  for  direction  and 
 support  ;  and  though  you  would  not  recall  her,  you 
 cannot  forbear  to  mourn.  44  It  were  no  virtue,” 
 says  one,  44  to  bear  calamities,  if  we  did  not  feel 
 
 them.” 
 
 The  mind  which  is  peculiarly  susceptible  of  im¬ 
 pressions — though  I  have  sometimes  thought  it 
 needs  more  grace  to  enable  it  to  sustain  afflictions 
 than  one  of  a  different  mould — has,  perhaps,  some 
 peculiar  advantages.  In  such  a  mind,  if  it  be  a 
 sanctified  one,  the  sense  of  dependence  must  be 
 much  stronger,  and,  of  course,  application  to  Him 
 whose  grace  is  sufficient  in  every  time  of  need,  more 
 frequent.  And  whatever  leads  us  to  God  for 
 strength  is  a  great  blessing  ;  for  all  that  is  obtained 
 any  where  else  but  from  the  fulness  that  is  in  Christ, 
 is  but  weakness,  however  specious  its  appearance 
 may  be.  Your  feelings  are  acute,  and  on  this  ac¬ 
 count  you  have  a  harder  struggle ;  but,  for  the  same 
 reason,  you  will  have  a  more  glorious  victory.  And 
 He  who  has  wounded,  will  heal;  He  who  has 
 broken,  will  bind  up.  He  knows  how  much  to  in- 
 
99 
 
 flict,  to  accomplish  his  gracious  designs  concerning 
 you;  and  he  will  lay  no  more  upon  you  than  he  will 
 enable  you,  if  you  look  to  him,  to  bear.  Distrust  is 
 the  sin  against  which  we  have  more  need  to  be  on 
 our  guard,  I  had  almost  said,  than  any  other.  No 
 sin  is  more  offensive  to  God,  none  more  distressing 
 to  ourselves.  How  glorious,  how  triumphant,  would 
 the  Christian  shine  in  sufferings,  would  he,  at  all 
 times,  exercise  that  unshaken  faith  which  his  reli¬ 
 gion  enjoins  !  His  would  not  be  the  lifeless  calm 
 of  the  cessation  of  feeling,  but  the  divine  union  of 
 those  seeming  contradictions — 44  sorrowful,  yet  rejoic¬ 
 ing;  having  nothing,  and  yet  possessing  all  things !” 
 Let  us,  my  dear  friend,  endeavour,  whether  in  pros¬ 
 perity  or  adversity,  to  cling  to  the  cross  of  Christ, 
 which  possesses  a  virtue,  that  will  render  the  one 
 harmless,  and  the  other  salutary,  or  rather,  that  will 
 render  both  salutary.  And  remembering  each  other’s 
 weaknesses,  let  us  never  forget  to  commend  each 
 other,  and  the  whole  Israel  of  God,  to  his  grace, 
 which  is  able  to  carry  us  through  all  things  unto  eter¬ 
 nal  salvation. 
 
 Six  persons  were  admitted  to  our  church  yesterday. 
 There  seems  to  be  a  growing  seriousness  among  us. 
 I  cannot  but  hope  that  God  has  a  blessing  in  store 
 for  us.  The  Holy  Spirit  would  have  much  error 
 and  prejudice  to  overcome  in  this  place;  but  God 
 has  said  that  the  people  shall  be  made  willing  in  the 
 day  of  his  power:  and  I  sometimes  have  a  strong 
 hope  that  his  gracious  power  will  speedily  be  exerted 
 in  this  way  among  this  people,  and  thus  obtain  for 
 itself  great  glory.  No  one,  I  think,  who  realizes, 
 in  any  proper  manner,  the  importance  of  the  salva- 
 
 e  2 
 
100 
 
 tion  of  a  single  soul,  can  help  praying  for  the  up¬ 
 building  of  Zion.  And  great  things  are  promised  in 
 answer  to  prayer.  If  Christians  were  truly  engaged 
 in  pleading  and  labouring  for  the  prosperity  and  peace 
 of  Jerusalem,  I  am  sure  that  we  should  see  her 
 streets  running  down  with  righteousness,  and  on  her 
 walls  written  inscriptions  of  praise. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  November  24,  1811. 
 
 Your  remarks,  my  dear  M.  are  just;  and  weie 
 letters  always,  or  even  generally,  the  medium  of  reli¬ 
 gious  communication,  I  think  I  may  say,  without  ar¬ 
 rogance  or  hypocrisy,  I  should  devote  my  time  to 
 maintaining  many  correspondences  with  less  regret. 
 Such.  I  trust,  however,  will  be  our  correspondence ; 
 and,  therefore,  I  confidently  expect  it  will  prove  use¬ 
 ful,  and  that  we  shall  find  the  time  devoted  to  it 
 time  employed  to  the  best  advantage. 
 
 The  picture  you  draw  of  our  insensibility  to 
 eternal  concerns  is  correct.  Jhat  awful  unbelief 
 which  man  inherits  by  the  apostacy,  is  never  entirely 
 rooted  out  of  Christians  in  the  present  life.  Hence, 
 their  faith  is  weak,  their  gracious  affections  languid, 
 their  obedience  imperfect.  Could  we  view  the  sub¬ 
 ject  of  redeeming  grace  as  we  shall  view  it,  if  we  aie 
 so  happy  as  to  arrive  at  Mount  Zion  above,  it  must, 
 it  would,  make  us  feel  our  obligations.  But,  alas, 
 the  sinfulness  of  our  hearts  !  such  a  view  we  shall 
 never  obtain  till  we  have  passed  the  dark  valley  of 
 death,  and  left  these  clogs  of  clay  behind.  In  the 
 meanwhile,  let  us  lie  low  at  the  footstool,  and  pray 
 
101 
 
 that  at  least  so  much  of  our  natural  blindness  may¬ 
 be  removed,  as  that  we  may  see  that  God’s  love  de¬ 
 mands  more  than  we  can  ever  pay ;  and  that  our  na¬ 
 tural  supineness  may  be  so  far  overcome,  as  that  we 
 may  be  giving  all  diligence  to  work  the  work  of  God, 
 and  make  our  calling  and  election  sure.  How  much 
 enjoyment  do  we  lose  by  our  inactivity  and  indiffer¬ 
 ence  !  What  can  be  more  surprising  than  the  con¬ 
 duct  of  those  who,  though  they  know  that  God  is 
 the  Fountain  of  living  waters,  are  continually  forsak¬ 
 ing  him,  and  hewing  them  out  cisterns,  broken  cis¬ 
 terns,  which  they  also  know  can  hold  no  water  ?  And 
 such  is  the  conduct  of  most  who  profess  to  have  been 
 ingrafted  into  Christ  by  faith  ! 
 
 TO  MISS  L.  OF  N.  H. 
 
 Boston ,  March  20,  1812. 
 
 It  will  give  you  pleasure  to  hear  that  for  some 
 time  before  the  birth  of  my  child,  1  enjoyed  a  degree 
 of  spiritual  comfort  scarcely  ever  felt  before, — not 
 as  high  overflowings  of  natural  feeling,  but  a  sweet 
 and  delightful  calm,  arising  from  the  consciousness 
 of  the  infinite  integrity,  faithfulness,  holiness,  and 
 goodness  of  God;  and  that  these  feelings  were  con¬ 
 tinued,  for  the  most  part,  during  my  sickness.  I 
 am  only  astonished,  and  I  hope  grieved,  that  I  love 
 and  serve  the  blessed  Jehovah  no  better.  When  I 
 reflect  on  his  unbounded  goodness  to  me  who  de¬ 
 serves  nothing,  on  the  infinite  excellence  and  holiness 
 of  his  character,  and  my  obligations  as  a  ransomed 
 sinner  and  a  lawful  subject,  I  wonder  at  myself;  I 
 wonder  that  heart,  soul,  and  life,  and  all,  are  not 
 
102 
 
 unreservedly  yielded  to  him  who  deserves  more  than 
 I  can  give.  O,  my  friend,  remember  me  at  the 
 throne  of  grace  !  Pray  that  my  soul  may  not  be,  as 
 it  were,  the  grave  of  God’s  mercies ;  that  I  may  not 
 be  entirely  dead  in  the  vineyard  of  my  gracious 
 Lord,  who  has,  as  I  humbly  trust,  redeemed  me  to 
 God  by  his  own  precious  blood.  How  swmet  a  pas¬ 
 sage  is  this,  “  The  love  of  Christ  constraineth  us  !” 
 &c.  How  desirable  to  be  thus  constrained  to  live, 
 not  to  ourselves,  but  to  him  who  died  for  us,  and 
 rose  again  ! 
 
 In  May  of  this  year  Mrs.  Huntington  commenced 
 a  second  Journal,  which  was  continued  till  near  the 
 time  of  her  death,  and  has  been  preserved. 
 
 Her  motives  in  commencing  this  record  of  the 
 Lord’s  dealings  with  her  are  thus  stated  by  herself, 
 in  an  introductory  paragraph  :  “  Having  of  late  been 
 impressed  with  a  conviction  of  the  expediency  ol 
 taking  down  written  memorials  of  special  mercies,  I 
 shall,  from  this  time  forward,  endeavour  to  do  it. 
 My  reasons  for  it  are  these  :  1.  The  remembrance  of 
 mercies  will  lead  me  to  extol  the  goodness  of  God. 
 2.  I  shall  always  have  them  before  me  as  delightful 
 incitements  to  duty.  3.  Such  a  remembrance  will  lead 
 me  to  trust  in  God  in  seasons  of  doubt  and  distress. 
 4.  It  will  ever  show  me  the  weakness  and  wickedness 
 of  yielding  to  despondency,  my  besetting  sin.  And 
 O  may  the  record  of  the  gracious  dealings  of  my 
 God  ever  serve  to  quicken,  enliven,  and  encourage  me, 
 and  make  me  faithful,  for  Christ  s  sake  !  Amen. 
 
103 
 
 In  the  subsequent  part  of  these  Memoirs,  extracts 
 will  be  made  from  this  Journal,  and  from  her  Letters, 
 promiscuously,  in  the  order  of  their  respective  dates, 
 without  any  other  distinction  than  the  mode  of  enter¬ 
 ing  them,  which  will  at  once  indicate  to  the  reader 
 from  which  they  are  taken. 
 
 The  first  entry  in  the  Journal  is  as  follows : — 
 
 May  21,  1812.  Deeply  impressed  with  a  sense 
 of  the  vast  importance  of  a  mother’s  duties,  and  the 
 lasting  effect  of  youthful  impressions,  I  this  day  re¬ 
 solve  to  endeavour,  at  all  times,  by  my  precepts  and 
 my  example,  to  inspire  my  children  with  just  notions 
 of  right  and  wrong,  of  what  is  to  be  avoided  and 
 what  pursued,  of  what  is  sacredly  to  be  desired  and 
 what  unreservedly  deprecated.  And,  as  my  firm 
 opinion  is,  that  we  are  formed  to  glorify  God,  and 
 that  to  enjoy  him  is  our  highest  happiness,  I  will 
 endeavour,  by  a  life  corresponding  with  this  belief, 
 to  convince  my  children  that  God’s  glory  is  my  ulti¬ 
 mate  aim  in  all  that  I  do,  and  the  enjoyment  of  him 
 my  most  ardent  desire,  my  unremitted  pursuit,  and 
 my  unspeakable  comfort.  I  will  endeavour,  by  avoid¬ 
 ing  all  superfluous  concern  about  dress,  furniture, 
 worldly  accomplishments,  &c.  not  to  counteract  my 
 precepts,  and  thus  inspire  my  children  with  the  idea, 
 that  what  I  say  I  think  the  highest  good,  I  really 
 view  but  as  a  secondary  consideration ;  to  act  uni¬ 
 formly,  as  if  a  desire  after  the  one  thing  needful  was 
 an  abiding,  influential  principle  in  all  my  conduct  and 
 pursuits.  May  God  give  me  grace  to  keep  these 
 resolutions  ! 
 
 23.  Indulged  in  many  anxious  anticipations.  Did 
 
104 
 
 not  sufficiently  realize  that  all  is  at  the  disposal  of  a 
 Being  of  infinite  wisdom ;  and  was  therefore  careful 
 about  many  things.  Well  might  the  prophet  say, 
 
 “  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in  perfect  peace  whose  mind 
 is  stayed  on  thee.”  The  doctrines  of  the  Holy 
 Scriptures  are  calculated  to  maintain  the  soul  in  uni¬ 
 form  serenity.  It  is  our  unbelief  that  counteracts 
 their  influence.  Oh  for  grace  to  view  futurity  as 
 the  only  consummation  of  life  and  happiness,  and  to 
 see  that  every  thing,  however  discordant  to  present 
 gratification,  has  an  ultimate  reference  to  it ;  that 
 there  is  a  66  need  be”  for  all  these  things,  and  that 
 the  time  is  coming  when  every  dark  providence  shall 
 be  cleared  up,  and  it  shall  be  made  manifest  that  every 
 event  of  this  mortal  state  has  been  necessary,  in  the 
 great  operations  of  the  Director  of  all  things,  to  per¬ 
 fect  the  work  of  redeeming  grace  !  How  sweet  it 
 will  be  to  trace  the  blessed  concatenation  of  causes 
 and  effects,  and  give  glory  to  Him  who  hath  in  all 
 things  made  us  more  than  conquerors  ! 
 
 Oh,  may  I  bear  some  humble  part 
 In  that  immortal  song ! 
 
 Wonder  and  joy  shall  fill  my  heart. 
 
 And  love  inspire  my  tongue. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  BOSTON. 
 
 New  London ,  June  8,  1812. 
 
 I  suppose  by  this  time  you  wish  to  know  how 
 and  where  we  are,  and  whether  the  children  bore  the 
 journey  well.  I  am  happy  to  be  able  to  write  that 
 they  have  both  been  very  good,  have  made  me  much 
 
105 
 
 less  trouble  than  I  anticipated,  and  are  very  well. 
 Mr.  Huntington  thinks  himself  in  better  health  than 
 when  we  left  home.  We  have  been  favoured  be¬ 
 yond  our  expectations  in  the  weather,  and  I  trust  the 
 country  air  will  soon  restore  him  to  usual  strength. 
 
 I  assure  you,  dear  H.  a  line  from  Boston  would 
 be  very  acceptable.  It  is  not  true  that  attachments 
 formed  in  after-life  are  less  strong  than  those  imbibed 
 in  early  youth.  Never  did  I  feel  my  affections  more 
 firmly  fixed,  than  they  are  on  those  objects  which  have 
 excited  them  since  I  have  arrived  at  maturity.  My 
 early  attachments,  however,  have  always  been  more 
 ardent  than  they  should  be.  I  was  ashamed  that  I 
 should  feel  so  much  regret  at  leaving  my  eastern 
 friends  only  for  a  few  weeks.  It  argued  an  inordinate 
 love,  which  ought  to  be  resisted.  Places  would  be 
 the  same  to  us,  in  a  great  measure,  if  we  kept  our 
 eye  and  our  heart  fixed  on  that  eternal  state,  where 
 we  shall  really  begin  to  live,  where  we  shall  be  eter¬ 
 nally  united,  where  “  adieus  and  farewells  are  sounds 
 unknown.” 
 
 TO  MRS.  W.  OF  KILLINGWORTH,  CONN. 
 
 BostoJi ,  July  15,  1812. 
 
 I  need  not  tell  you,  my  dear  sister,*  that  the 
 melancholy  tidings  of  your  beloved  husband’s  death, 
 communicated  in  my  father’s  letter  of  the  sixth, 
 were  very  unexpected  and  distressing.  You  know 
 
 *  The  lady  addressed  was  a  child  of  the  same  mother,  but  not 
 of  the  same  father.  Mrs.  Mansfield’s  first  husband  was  the  im¬ 
 mediate  predecessor  of  Mr.  Mansfield  in  the  pastoral  office  in  the 
 first  church  in  Killingworth. 
 
 E  3 
 
106 
 
 too  well  the  peculiar  attachment  I  have  always  felt 
 for  you,  to  make  such  a  declaration  necessary.  Yet 
 my  feelings  constrain  me  to  try  to  console  you,  by 
 endeavouring  to  express  how  much  I  feel  for  you, 
 how  tenderly  I  sympathize  with  you.  Dear  S.  I 
 feel  that  human  friendships  are  all  insufficient  to 
 sooth  grief  like  yours.  I  can  only  bid  you  raise 
 your  eye  and  your  heart  to  Him  who  has  inflicted 
 the  wound.  Remember  that  not  a  sparrow  falleth 
 to  the  ground  without  his  notice ;  much  more,  then, 
 must  we  feel  that  man’s  appointed  time  is  in  his 
 hand.  And,  my  dear  sister,  shall  we  complain  ot 
 God  ?  Is  not  his  time  the  best  time  ?  Has  he 
 not  a  right  to  dispose  of  his  creatures  as  he  sees 
 fit?  Shall  not  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  do  right  ? 
 O  yes  !  Let  us  bow  with  submission  to  his  will, 
 and  ascribe  righteousness  to  our  Maker.  I  doubt 
 not  this  solemn  providence  seems  dark  and  inexpli¬ 
 cable;  but,  I  conjure  you,  have  no  hard  thoughts 
 of  the  blessed  Jehovah.  All  his  ways  are  perfect, 
 are  merciful.  He  afflicts,  not  for  his  own  pleasure, 
 but  for  our  profit.  And  if,  by  this  mournful  dis¬ 
 pensation,  you  are  brought  to  realize  that  we  are 
 probationers  for  a  future  state — that  this  is  but  a 
 short  journey  (we  know  not  how  short)  to  an  inter¬ 
 minable  existence — if  you  are  led  to  prepare  for 
 death — if  you  are  made  more  like  God,  and  more 
 meet  for  his  presence, — will  you  not  have  reason  to 
 rejoice  ?  The  desire  I  have  that  this  end  may  be 
 answered  is  unutterable.  Pray,  strive,  wrestle,  that, 
 when  it  shall  come  to  your  turn,  the  awful  message 
 may  not  find  you  unprepared.  God  forbid  that  this 
 should  be  the  case  ! 
 
107 
 
 And  now,  my  dear  sister,  let  me  once  more  beg 
 you  to  cast  your  burden  on  the  Lord.  Do  you 
 fear  for  the  little  children  ?  “  I  will  preserve  them 
 alive,”  says  our  merciful  God.  Do  you  fear  for 
 yourself?  “  Let  your  widows  trust  in  me,”  says 
 the  same  almighty  and  gracious  Being.  None  ever 
 did,  none  ever  shall,  trust  Him  in  vain.  Go  to 
 him,  and  say,  66  Here  am  I,  Lord !  cast  down,  but 
 not  destroyed ;  hold  thou  me  up,  and  I  shall  be 
 safe ;  subdue,  consecrate,  and  sanctify  to  thyself, 
 this  life,  and  these  members,  which  have,  too  long 
 and  too  devotedly,  been  the  servants  of  the  world !” 
 Remember  your  mercies.  Many,  my  dear  sister, 
 are  left  in  circumstances  of  want  and  wretchedness 
 as  well  as  of  sorrow;  but  God  has  mercifully  sup¬ 
 plied  all  your  temporal  necessities.  I  hope  this  will 
 find  you  resigned ;  free  from  grief  it  will  not  find  you, 
 it  should  not :  Jesus  wept  at  Lazarus’  grave. 
 
 And  now  I  must  bid  you  adieu.  Dear  sister,  you 
 have  our  sympathy  and  our  prayers.  God  bless  you, 
 and  make  you  one  of  his  dear  children;  and  then  all 
 things  shall  work  together  for  your  good. 
 
 July  22.  Yesterday  my  little  son  appeared  very 
 sick.  I  was  awake  with  him  most  of  the  night,  and 
 was  apprehensive  of  two  disorders, — one  in  conse¬ 
 quence  of  a  bad  fall,  the  other  the  effect  of  having 
 been  exposed  to  an  infectious  disease.  But,  blessed 
 be  my  gracious  Lord  !  he  has  disappointed  me. 
 Instead  of  putting  the  cup  of  mourning  into  my 
 hand,  he  has  dissipated  all  my  fears,  and  caused  me 
 to  rejoice  in  his  sparing  mercy.  My  heart  failed 
 
108 
 
 me.  I  thought  I  should  sink  under  the  affliction 
 of  a  separation  from  my  child ;  not  because  God 
 had  not  a  perfect  right  to  do  what  he  pleased  with 
 his  own,  but  from  the  extreme  natural  sensibility  of 
 my  disposition,  which  is  my  snare.  But  I  must,  I 
 desire  to  trust  my  blessed  God ;  believing  that,  when 
 I  am  called  to  trials  of  this  or  any  other  kind,  he 
 will  support  me;  and  if  he  hold  me  up,  I  shall  be 
 safe. 
 
 25.  I  have  great  reason  to  be  humbled  before 
 God  for  the  improper  emotions  I  experienced  to-day, 
 on  account  of  the  imputation  to  my  husband  of  a 
 certain  trifling  error,  which  imputation  I  thought 
 unjust.  I  called  it,  at  the  time,  a  wound  of  my 
 feelings ;  but,  on  reflection,  I  believe  it  was  a  wound 
 of  my  pride.  And,  what  is  worse,  I  fear  that,  by 
 yielding  to  my  sinful  desire  of  mentioning  it  to  him, 
 I  may  have  disaffected  him  toward  the  offender. 
 May  God  give  me  the  sorrow  I  ought  to  feel,  and 
 teach  me,  in  lowliness  of  mind,  to  esteem  others 
 better  than  myself! 
 
 August  11.  Oh,  how  miserable  I  should  be  could 
 I  not  repair  to  an  unchanging  God  !  In  Jehovah’s 
 love  I  find  a  never-failing  spring  of  comfort.  Dis¬ 
 appointed  in  the  creature,  what  should  I  do  without 
 my  Almighty  Friend  ?  And  how  good  is  it  in  him 
 thus  to  imbitter  my  earthly  cistern,  that  I  may  not 
 sit  and  sip  to  my  everlasting  regret  and  destruction  ! 
 It  is  thy  hand,  it  is  thy  hand,  dear  Lord ;  and  I 
 bless  thee.  Return,  therefore,  my  soul,  unto  thy 
 only  sure  rest.  O  God,  thou  adorable,  thou  per¬ 
 fect  Being,  may  my  spirit  spring  forward  with  de- 
 
109 
 
 light  to  thy  bosom  as  its  resting-place,  its  covert  from 
 the  storm  !  And  shall  I  never,  never,  thus  fly  to 
 thee,  but  when  disappointed,  and  driven  away  from 
 the  creature?  Then  come  disappointments;  come 
 any  thing,  every  thing;  and  let  God  be  all  and  in 
 all  to  my  wayward  soul ! 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 August  20,  1812. 
 
 I  am  not  in  a  mood  very  well  adapted  to  dissipate 
 or  enliven  solitude  this  evening;  and  I  write  more 
 to  let  you  know  I  think  of  you  than  any  thing  else. 
 I  have  seen  something  so  like  war  to-day,  that  I 
 cannot  get  rid  of  the  gloom  it  has  thrown  over  my 
 spirit.  A  regiment  of  soldiers,  with  a  large  num¬ 
 ber  of  baggage  waggons,  passed  through  the  streets, 
 just  before  we  went  into  church  this  afternoon,  on 
 their  way  to  Albany,  it  is  said.  The  confused  noise 
 of  fifes  and  drums,  heavy  cannon,  and  loaded  wag¬ 
 gons,  combined  with  the  various  sounds  of  human 
 voices,  within  four  yards  of  the  temple  of  God,  and 
 on  his  holy  day,  was  new  to  my  ear,  and  as  painful 
 as  new.  I  could  not  help  thinking  how  many  dis¬ 
 tracted  countries  are  continually  witnessing  similar 
 or  worse  scenes;  and  my  heart  almost  fainted  at 
 the  idea  of  our  precious  Sabbaths  being  converted 
 into  days  of  bloodshed  and  death,  and  our  sacred 
 temples  destroyed,  or  devoted  to  the  promotion  of 
 infidelity  and  wickedness.  We  have  forfeited  our 
 Sabbaths,  and  all  our  mercies;  and  it  becomes  us 
 to  take  heed  to  ourselves,  and  ascribe  righteousness 
 to  our  Maker.  I  hope  you  will  remember  us  at 
 
110 
 
 the  throne  of  grace,  that  we  may  be  prepared  for  all 
 the  changes  which  are  in  God’s  right  hand,  and 
 enabled  in  every  situation  to  glorify  him.  May  we 
 evermore  he  found  in  Him  who  is  a  covert  from  the 
 storm,  a  very  present  help  in  time  of  trouble  !  May 
 he  take  us  all  into  his  secret  chambers,  till  these 
 ca]  amities  are  overpast. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  M. 
 
 Boston ,  August  28,  1812. 
 
 I  am  glad  you  are  pleased  with  Miss  - . 
 
 She  is  a  remarkable  instance  of  the  sovereignty  of 
 divine  grace ;  and  her  experience  is,  to  my  mind, 
 an  argument  of  no  small  weight  in  favour  of  those 
 views  of  religion  usually  termed  evangelical.  That 
 the  mind  of  a  young  person  should  be  led,  by  the 
 influence  of  no  external  cause,  to  embrace  opinions 
 which  she  had  been  taught  from  infancy  to  reject  as 
 absurd,  if  not  impious,  and  to  which  the  whole  cur- 
 rent  of  her  preconceived  sentiments  and  carnal  pre¬ 
 judices  was  entirely  opposed,  can  be  accounted  for 
 on  no  other  ground  than  that  she  was  irresistibly  led, 
 in  a  way  she  knew  not,  by  Him  in  whose  hand  are 
 the  hearts  of  all  men,  and  who  turneth  them  as  the 
 rivers  of  water  are  turned. 
 
 You  ask  me  to  remember  you  in  my  prayers, 
 that  you  may  be  kept  from  falling.  I  trust,  my 
 dear  girl,  you  are  founded  on  the  rock  Christ  Jesus ; 
 and  if  so,  you  are  safe.  Christians  may  indeed, 
 like  Peter,  and  David,  and  Thomas,  and  others,  fall 
 into  temptations  and  a  snare;  and  against  this  we 
 should  continually  watch  and  pray :  if  left  to  them- 
 
I 
 
 111 
 
 selves,  they  would  fall  away  and  perish ;  and  against 
 this  they  should  continually  watch  and  pray:  but 
 none  shall  be  able  to  pluck  them  out  of  the  hand 
 of  Him  who  has  died  to  redeem  them,  and  pledged 
 himself  to  raise  them  up  at  the  last  day.  No ; 
 Christ  has  prayed  for  them  that  they  may  be  kept 
 in  the  Father’s  name:  and  they  may  say,  66  Rejoice 
 not  over  me,  O  mine  enemy,  for  when  I  fall,  I  shall 
 rise  again,” 
 
 It  appears  to  me,  that  the  charge  of  licentious-' 
 ness,  so  often  alleged  against  the  orthodox,  is  oc¬ 
 casioned  by  an  ungodly  world  eagerly  catching  at 
 those  slips  and  falls  which  are  unallowed  and  ad¬ 
 ventitious,  and  which  may  have  been  afterwards  be¬ 
 wailed  with  many  a  bitter  tear,  while  the  aggregate 
 of  their  conduct  is  overlooked.  It  is  not  the  exis¬ 
 tence,  but  the  indulgence  of  sin,  that  proves  a  pro¬ 
 fessor  unsound.  It  is  not  a  single  action,  but  the 
 habit  of  conduct,  that  determines  the  character. 
 While  a  scoffing  world  exultingly  spread  the  news 
 of  a  professor’s  fall,  which  he  may  be  lamenting  in 
 his  closet,  with  no  witness  but  His  eye  who  looketh 
 on  the  heart,  are  they  equally  solicitous  to  report 
 his  benevolence,  his  heavenly-mindedness,  his  dis¬ 
 interestedness,  his  zeal  for  God,  which  may  form 
 the  leading  traits  in  his  character  ?  Ah  no.  But 
 they  forget  that  we  are  as  accountable  for  principles 
 as  for  actions,  for  the  desire  of  sin  as  for  the  com¬ 
 mission  of  it;  and  that  vicious  desires,  which  v/e 
 fear  to  indulge,  are  infinitely  more  abominable  in 
 the  sight  of  the  blessed  God,  than  hated  and  un¬ 
 allowed  miscarriages.  I  do  not  forget  that  the  tree 
 is  known  by  its  fruit ;  and  if  any  sin  is  so  common 
 
112 
 
 in  a  professor  as  to  have  become  a  habit,  it  is  a  dark 
 sign.  But  these  are  not  the  sins  of  which  I  have 
 been  speaking,  nor  which  are  commonly  charged  upon 
 professors  of  evangelical  religion. 
 
 October  2.  I  have  had  a  very  precious  exercise 
 this  evening,  for  me.  God  grant  it  may  prove  to 
 have  been  genuine  !  I  have,  for  some  time  past, 
 been  in  a  very  worldly,  carnal  state,  and  Jehovah 
 graciously  chastised  me.  My  trial  was,  in  itself,  a 
 small  one;  but  it  was  hard  to  be  borne.  One  of 
 my  domestics  treated  me  in  an  unbecoming  man¬ 
 ner,  and  when  I  expostulated  with  her,  only  con¬ 
 tinued  to  justify  herself,  and  persist  in  her  rudeness. 
 This  circumstance  led  me  to  realize  how  infinitely 
 important  it  is  that  I  should  ever  tread  in  the  pre¬ 
 cise  path  of  duty,  and  never  turn  to  the  right  hand 
 or  to  the  left,  lest  it  should  bring  a  reproach  on  re¬ 
 ligion.  Such  a  sense  of  my  multiform  duties,  as  a 
 head  of  a  family,  and  of  my  entire  impotence  for 
 their  performance,  rushed  upon  me,  that  I  was  al¬ 
 most  overwhelmed.  But  I  was  enabled  to  go  to 
 that  precious  Saviour,  in  whom  there  is  a  supply  for 
 my  every  want.  I  think  I  was  enabled  to  cast  my 
 naked  soul  upon  him  for  wisdom,  righteousness, 
 sanctification,  and  final  redemption  from  sin.  And 
 oh  !  what  a  glorious  method  for  the  attainment  of 
 strength,  and  faith,  and  grace,  did  it  appear  to  me ; 
 and  how  hateful  did  my  lukewarmness  in  his  ser¬ 
 vice  seem  !  I  only  wonder  that  I  was  not  a  thou¬ 
 sand  times  more  affected  than  I  was.  I  think  I 
 was  enabled  to  pray  for  the  person  who  misused  me, 
 and  to  feel  all  enmity  taken  away,  and  a  sweet 
 
113 
 
 spirit  of  forgiveness,  and  a  desire  that  she  should 
 be  delivered  from  the  bondage  of  corruption.  In¬ 
 deed,  it  seemed  as  if  I  was  filled  with  love  for  all 
 the  world.  Blessed  Redeemer !  precious,  glorious 
 Pattern  !  enable  me  to  catch  something  of  thy  spirit, 
 while  sojourning  in  this  vale  of  tears  !  And  may 
 that  spirit  and  its  divine  fruits  be  consummated  in  the 
 world  of  glory. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  P. 
 
 Boston,  December  29,  1812. 
 
 As  to  progress,  dear  L.  it  seems  as  if  there  were 
 so  much  to  be  known,  and  so  much  to  be  done,  that 
 I  sometimes  feel  that  I  am  hardly  to  regard  myself 
 as  even  a  babe  in  Christ.  My  knowledge  is  so 
 imperfect,  my  faith  so  unfruitful,  my  penitence  so 
 feeble,  and  even  my  desires  so  languishing,  that  I 
 sometimes  doubt ;  but,  blessed  be  God !  I  never 
 despair.  He  who  hath  established  all  the  ends  of 
 the  earth  holds  me  up ;  and  thus  upheld,  I  am  safe. 
 Satan,  I  know,  would  rejoice  to  sift  me  as  wheat; 
 but  I  think  I  have  committed  my  soul  to  Him  who 
 will  never  suffer  his  people  to  be  tempted  above  that 
 they  are  able.  You  remember  the  season  of  conflict 
 I  endured  about  two  years  and  four  months  ago. 
 Never  shall  I  forget  it.  Though  my  distracted 
 spirit  was  then  almost  swallowed  up  with  the  terrors 
 of  the  Lord,  and  an  agonizing  weight,  which  may 
 be  conceived,  but  not  described,  seemed  bearing  me 
 down  to  the  blackness  of  darkness  for  ever — yet  He, 
 whose  province  it  is  to  bring  good  out  of  evil,  ap¬ 
 peared  for  me,  and  said  unto  me,  *  Live/  Whether 
 
114 
 
 I  was  a  Christian  then  or  not,  or  whether  I  am  one 
 now,  I  cannot  say  with  certainty ;  God  alone  knoweth 
 the  heart.  But  I  have  a  comfortable  hope  that  the 
 Lord  has  begun,  and  is  carrying  on,  his  work  in  my 
 soul.  I  think  my  spiritual  perceptions  are  clearer 
 than  ever  they  were  before.  The  attributes  of  Jeho¬ 
 vah,  the  extent  and  reasonableness  of  the  divine  law, 
 the  equity  and  wisdom  of  the  divine  administration, 
 the  plan  of  redemption,  the  character  of  the  Saviour, 
 &c.  are,  I  think,  increasingly  known,  and  increas¬ 
 ingly  rejoiced  in.  I  remember  when  I  could  talk 
 about  these  things;  I  dare  not  say  I  did  not  feel 
 them  in  a  degree ;  but  I  felt  them  not  as  now.  This 
 leads  me  to  distrust  myself;  for,  if  I  once  thought  I 
 felt  so  much  more  than  I  really  did,  there  is  reason 
 to  fear  that  I  now  feel,  in  no  measure  proportionably 
 to  the  worth  and  importance  of  divine  things.  And 
 thus  I  am  driven  to  the  omniscient  God,  to  try  me 
 and  prove  me,  to  empty  me  from  vessel  to  vessel, 
 and  do  with  me  what  seemeth  to  him  good;  taking 
 his  infallible  word,  that  I  shall  know,  if  I  follow  on 
 to  know  the  Lord.  To  him  be  all  the  glory,  now 
 and  for  ever. 
 
 TO  MISS  L.  AT  CHARLESTON,  S.  C. 
 
 ✓ 
 
 Boston ,  January  5,  1813. 
 
 We  are  all  well;  and  all  things  go  on  well.  We 
 only  wonder  that  mercies  so  great  should  not  con¬ 
 strain  us  to  unremitted  devotedness  to  the  service  of 
 Him  from  whom  cometh  every  good  and  perfect  gift. 
 When  I  think,  in  particular,  who  it  is  that  has  borne 
 up  my  feet  from  the  way  to  death,  and  prevented 
 
115 
 
 me  from  going  down  to  everlasting  burnings,  and 
 put  me,  as  I  humbly  hope,  in  the  path  of  glory, 
 honour,  and  eternal  life,  it  seems  as  if  my  ingratitude 
 could  be  surpassed  by  nothing,  except  the  forbear¬ 
 ance  of  Him  whom  it  olfends.  But,  though  we  may 
 rejoice,  how  much  reason  have  we  to  rejoice  with 
 trembling  !  “  The  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things, 
 
 and  desperately  wicked.”  Here  is  our  misery.  66  I, 
 the  Lord,  search  the  heart;  I  try  the  reins.”  Here 
 is  cur  remedy.  And  were  it  not  for  this,  we  might 
 all  sit  down  in  despair  of  ever  knowing  ourselves. 
 But  it  is  delightful  to  be  able  to  commit  our  souls 
 into  the  hands  of  One  who  knows  what  manner  of 
 spirit  we  are  of,  and  is  able  to  mould  us  into  a  con¬ 
 formity  to  his  own  glorious  image. 
 
 I  suppose  you  are  obliged,  in  your  present  situa¬ 
 tion,  to  associate  more  with  the  gay  world  than  you 
 could  wish.  But  God  is  able  to  bring  good  out  of 
 evil.  Perhaps  the  necessity  of  mixing  with  the 
 thoughtless  and  worldly,  may  teach  you  to  feel  more 
 the  importance  of  living  near  to  God,  obtaining 
 strength  from  him,  watching  unto  prayer,  lest  you 
 fall  into  temptation,  and  maintaining  good  works, 
 than  you  would  do  in  a  less  exposed  situation.  New¬ 
 ton,  you  remember,  thought  66  the  few  chosen  ones 
 in  London  the  brightest  jewels  in  the  kingdom.” 
 No  doubt  a  similar  remark  may  be  made  with  refer¬ 
 ence  to  the  other  large  towns.  I  think  that  a  formal 
 spirit  of  frigid  morality  among  all  classes,  and  an  in¬ 
 discriminate  incorporation  of  such  a  spirit  into  the 
 church,  when  nothing  is  said  against  religion,  and 
 its  professors  can  scarcely  be  distinguished  from  the 
 
116 
 
 wood,  hay,  and  stubble  around  them,  is  a  condition 
 of  society  much  more  hostile  to  the  genius  of  Chris¬ 
 tianity,  and  its  influence  on  the  minds  of  men,  than 
 a  state  of  looser  morals  on  the  one  hand,  and  of 
 firmer  faith  and  zeal,  and  greater  spirituality,  on  the 
 other. 
 
 January  22.  When  I  hear  females,  as  I  some¬ 
 times  do,  deprecating  the  contractedness  of  domestic 
 life,  and  eagerly  panting  after  the  employments  and 
 publicity  of  philosophers,  statesmen,  and  legislators, 
 I  am  led  to  think  that  my  life,  in  the  little  sphere  of 
 my  family,  must  be  more  varied  than  theirs,  or  they 
 could  not  consider  the  duties  of  the  domestic  circle 
 as  unimportant,  or  devoid  of  excitements.  It  is  true, 
 if  the  meed  to  be  obtained  were  mere  human  ap¬ 
 plause,  the  female  part  of  the  world  would  have  but 
 little  opportunity  to  shine;  and  might  justly  com¬ 
 plain  of  the  narrowness  of  their  sphere,  and  the  in¬ 
 significance  of  their  lot.  But  when  it  is  considered, 
 that  the  quality  of  actions  is  determined  by  God; 
 and  that,  in  his  view,  the  person  who  tears  from  his 
 bosom  a  right  hand  sin,  or  performs  a  self-denying 
 duty,  is  greater  than  the  hero  or  the  conqueror,  con¬ 
 sidered  only  as  such,  how  is  the  case  altered !  how 
 does  it  dignify  any  station  which  is  calculated  to  pro¬ 
 duce  these  effects  !  The  woman,  therefore,  who 
 complains  of  the  obscurity  of  her  condition,  feels  and 
 talks  like  a  heathen.  She  virtually  professes  to 
 value  the  praise  of  men  more  than  the  praise  of 
 God ;  and  is  likely,  by  her  impiety  and  folly,  to  for¬ 
 feit  both.  In  performing  the  duties  of  private  life, 
 
117 
 
 no  Christian  will  have  reason  to  complain  that  he 
 has  not  sufficient  excitement  to  duty,  or  sufficiently 
 numerous  calls  for  the  use  of  all  his  intellectual  and 
 moral  powers.  The  various  and  complicated  vexa¬ 
 tions  and  trials,  pains  and  sufferings,  privations  and 
 disappointments,  which  perpetually  occur  in  the  best 
 organized  and  most  favoured  family,  are  enough  to 
 convince  him  that  there  is  no  time  to  sleep;  that 
 much  is  to  be  done,  and  that  he  has  need  of  all  his 
 strength  and  wisdom  to  decide,  and  resolve,  and  act. 
 If  the  end  of  all  that  we  set  ourselves  about  ought 
 to  be  to  mend  the  heart,  (and  no  Christian  will  deny 
 that  it  ought,)  what  situation  is  so  favourable  for 
 this  as  that  which  teaches  the  soul  what  are  its  be¬ 
 setting  sins,  and  offers  no  illusive  temptations  to 
 self-delusion,  no  poisonous  reward  to  virtues  which 
 our  consciences  tell  us  are  defective  at  the  core? 
 The  natural  effect  of  public  applause  is  to  produce 
 self- ignorance  and  deception;  for  the  standard  of 
 morals  is  extremely  low  and  defective  in  the  world, 
 and  the  popular  man  will  give  himself  credit  for  vir¬ 
 tues  which  either  are  worthless  in  the  sight  of  God, 
 or  he  does  not  possess.  How  awful,  when  death 
 shall  turn  him  from  the  decisions  of  a  world  blind 
 and  partial,  to  Him  who  looketh  on  the  heart !  O 
 that,  in  humility  of  mind,  I  may  ever  prefer  that  con¬ 
 dition  which  leads  me  to  the  most  intimate  know¬ 
 ledge  of  myself!  that  I  may  be  enabled  to  profit  by 
 such  a  knowledge,  and  rejoice  to  become  nothing,  that 
 God  may  be  all  in  all ! 
 
 February  7.  There  is  scarcely  any  subject  con¬ 
 cerning  which  I  feel  more  anxiety  than  the  proper 
 education  of  my  children.  It  is  a  difficult  and  deli- 
 
118 
 
 cate  subject;  and  the  more  I  reflect  on  my  duty  to 
 them,  the  more  I  feel  how  much  is  to  be  learned  by 
 myself.  The  person  who  undertakes  to  form  the 
 infant  mind,  to  cut  off  the  distorted  shoots,  and  di¬ 
 rect  and  fashion  those  which  may,  in  due  time,  be¬ 
 come  fruitful  and  lovely  branches,  ought  to  possess  a 
 deep  and  accurate  knowledge  of  human  nature.  It 
 is  no  easy  task  to  ascertain,  not  only  the  principles 
 and  habits  of  thinking,  but  also  the  causes  which 
 produce  them.  It  is  no  easy  task,  not  only  to  watch 
 over  actions,  but  also  to  become  acquainted  with  the 
 motives  which  prompted  them.  It  is  no  easy  task, 
 not  only  to  produce  correct  associations,  but  to  re¬ 
 move  improper  ones,  which  may,  through  the  me¬ 
 dium  of  those  nameless  occurrences  to  which  children 
 are  continually  exposed,  have  found  a  place  in  the 
 mind.  But  such  is  the  task  of  every  mother  who 
 superintends  the  education  of  her  children.  Add  to 
 this  the  difficulty  of  maintaining  that  uniform  and 
 consistent  course  of  conduct  which  children  ought 
 always  to  observe  in  their  parents,  and  which  alone 
 can  give  force  to  the  most  judicious  discipline ;  and, 
 verily,  every  considerate  person  must  allow,  that  it  is 
 no  small  matter  to  be  faithful  in  the  employment  of 
 instructors  of  infancy  and  youth.  Not  only  must 
 the  precept  be  given,  u  Love  not  the  world but 
 the  life  must  speak  the  same.  Not  only  must  we 
 exhort  our  infant  charge  to  patience  under  their  little 
 privations  and  sorrows,  but  we  must  also  practise 
 those  higher  exercises  of  submission,  which,  they  will 
 easily  perceive,  are  but  the  more  vigorous  branches 
 of  the  same  root,  whose  feeble  twigs  they  are  required 
 to  cultivate.  Not  only  must  we  entreat  them  tn 
 
119 
 
 seek  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  but  we  must  be  care¬ 
 ful  to  let  them  see  that  we  are  not  as  easily  depressed 
 by  the  frowns,  or  elated  by  the  smiles,  of  the  world, 
 as  others.  In  short,  nothing  but  the  most  persever¬ 
 ing  industry  in  the  acquisition  of  necessary  know¬ 
 ledge,  the  most  indefatigable  application  of  that  know¬ 
 ledge  to  particular  cases,  the  most  decisive  adherence 
 to  a  consistent  course  of  piety,  and,  above  all,  the 
 most  unremitted  supplications  to  Him  who  alone  can 
 enable  us  to  resolve  and  act  correctly,  can  qualify  us 
 to  discharge  properly  the  duties  which  devolve  upon 
 every  mother. 
 
 March  28.  How  often  do  I  exclaim,  with  the 
 Psalmist,  (would  to  God  it  were  with  his  spirit !) 
 “  O  that  my  ways  were  directed  to  keep  thy  sta¬ 
 tutes  !”  I  resolve,  and  re-resolve,  yet  live  the  same. 
 I  find  myself  so  often  erring  on  the  very  point  with 
 respect  to  which  I  meant  to  have  been  particularly 
 guarded,  that  I  am  sometimes  almost  tempted  to  sit 
 down  in  despair.  Among  the  greatest  of  my  trials 
 is  a  natural  warmth  of  disposition,  which  hurries  me 
 on,  even  in  those  things  which  are  right  in  them¬ 
 selves  ;  so  that  I  am  not  able  to  proportionate  my 
 feeling,  in  any  proper  degree,  to  the  importance  of 
 the  occasion  which  has  excited  it.  Oh  for  grace  to 
 judge  correctly  with  regard  to  the  path  of  duty,  and 
 with  firmness  and  fidelity  unwaveringly  to  pursue  it ! 
 
 May  15.  How  many  trials  are  continually  occur¬ 
 ring  to  remind  us  that  this  is  not  our  rest  !  There 
 are  a  variety  of  evils  which  imbitter  life  that  do  not 
 deserve  the  name  of  afflictions ;  and  their  end  is  to 
 induce  us  to  look  to  that  perfect  state  which  is  to  be 
 revealed,  I  have  this  day  been  wounded  in  my  feel- 
 
120 
 
 ings,  by  unintentionally  wounding  the  pride  of  a 
 fellow-worm.  My  remark  should  not  have  affected 
 him  thus ;  it  was  innocent  and  true.  But  such  is 
 our  frailty,  and  I  ought  to  be  neither  offended  nor 
 surprised.  Oh  for  that  charity  which  suffereth 
 long  and  is  kind,  is  not  easily  provoked,  and  seeketh 
 not  her  own !  Then  would  none  of  these  things 
 
 move  me. 
 
 21.  For  a  few  days  past  I  have  felt  myself  more 
 than  usually  influenced  by  a  spirit  of  vain-glory  and 
 pride  of  human  applause,  to  the  performance  of  right 
 actions.  How  little  disinterestedness  of  motive  am 
 I  conscious  of  possessing  !  And  may  not  that  little 
 be  imaginary?  I  am  particularly  deficient  in  hu¬ 
 mility,  that  precious  grace.  O  that  I  might  see  more 
 of  the  plague  of  my  own  heart,  and  mourn  !  But  I 
 am  ignorant,  knowing  nothing  yet,  scarcely,  as  I 
 ought  to  know.  The  next  Sabbath  our  communion 
 season  returns ;  a  season  when,  in  times  past,  I  have 
 been  particularly  guilty,  lifeless,  and  cold.  Blessed 
 Spirit,  take  of  the  things  of  Christ  and  show  them 
 unto  me,  and  prepare  for  him  an  acceptable  offering 
 
 at  my  hands ! 
 
 24.  I  have  not  had  time  till  now  to  lecord  the 
 state  of  my  feelings  at  the  communion  yesterday. 
 On  Saturday  evening  I  had  a  very  interesting  sea¬ 
 son  for  preparation,  and  think  I,  in  some  measure, 
 enjoyed  it.  Sabbath  morning  I  heard  a  sermon  on 
 the  personality  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  It  was,  as  dis¬ 
 cussed,  a  delightful  subject,  and  my  heart,  I  trust, 
 felt  something  of  warmth  and  spirituality.  The 
 communion  was  a  very  precious  season.  Though  I 
 perhaps  felt  no  more  than  many  Christians  generally 
 
121 
 
 feel  on  these  occasions,  yet  it  was  something  for 
 which  I  desire  to  be  thankful  to  Him  who  is  the  Au¬ 
 thor  and  the  Finisher  of  faith.  I  had  not  more  joy 
 than  I  have  often  had  when  attending  that  ordinance ; 
 but  my  exercises  were  more  satisfactory  than  usual. 
 If  I  am  not  deceived,  I  was  enabled  more  sincerely 
 to  renounce  every  idol,  and  take  Christ  for  my  por¬ 
 tion,  to  renounce  my  own  will  and  surrender  myself 
 to  his  disposal,  than  ever  I  did  before.  Particularly 
 I  desired  that  my  inordinate  attachment  to  my  chil¬ 
 dren  might  be  crucified,  and  my  love  to  God  be  more 
 supreme ;  and  felt  as  if  I  did  cast  myself  on  him  for 
 the  supply  of  my  wants.  I  felt  as  if  I  could  go  on 
 in  the  strength  of  the  Lord,  and  trust  in  him  to  carry 
 me  through  all  that  is  before  me.  It  seemed  as  if  I 
 had  some  feeble  emanations  of  the  same  spirit  which 
 caused  the  apostle  to  exclaim,  fic  Neither  count  I  my 
 life  dear  unto  myself,  so  that  I  might  finish  my 
 course  with  joy.”  And  I  think  I  felt  a  spirit  of  love 
 for  my  fellow-professors,  and  a  desire  that  we  all, 
 after  having  received  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord,  might 
 walk  in  him. 
 
 June  4.  Yesterday  I  went  to  the  meeting  at  Mrs. 
 M  .’s#  as  usual,  but  was  in  a  very  stupid  frame.  I 
 did  not  feel  a  sense  of  the  divine  presence,  or  scarcely 
 any  desire  to  seek  it.  In  the  night  I  awoke  about 
 two  o’clock;  and  was  led,  first,  to  reflect  on  my  in¬ 
 sensibility  the  preceding  day ;  and  then  on  the  suffi¬ 
 ciency  of  Christ  to  atone  for  my  sins,  and  strengthen 
 
 *  A  stated  female  prayer-meeting  established  in  1741,  and  con¬ 
 tinued  to  the  present  time.  See  Memoirs  of  Mrs.  Abigail  Waters, 
 by  the  Rev.  Joshua  Huntington. 
 
 F 
 
 41 
 
122 
 
 me  for  future  duty.  I  did  not  have  as  deep  a  sense 
 of  my  guilt  as  1  desired ;  but  I  seemed  to  feel  sensi¬ 
 bly  what  I  ought  to  be— that  I  ought  to  live  for  God, 
 that  I  ought  to  maintain  a  constant  spirit  of  prayer, 
 for  myself,  my  children,  and  this  miserable  world ; 
 and  it  seemed  as  if  I  could  get  up  and  go  to  work,  to 
 some  purpose,  about  my  Master’s  business.  Oh,  it 
 is  delightful  to  feel  as  if  the  first  wish  of  our  hearts 
 were  to  fulfil  the  great  purpose  of  our  existence,  as 
 if  we  had  caught  something  of  the  spirit  of  the  hea¬ 
 venly  world,  and  desired  principally  to  be,  and  do, 
 and  suffer,  just  what  God  pleases  ! 
 
 I  think  I  scarcely  ever  saw  more  fitness  in  Christ 
 for  the  peculiar  offices  he  sustains  than  at  this  time. 
 It  appeared  to  me  as  if  his  having  taken  our  nature 
 upon  him,  and  experienced  the  weakness  of  the  flesh, 
 rendered  him  peculiarly  fit  to  be  applied  to  by  us  foi 
 help.  He  seemed  to  me  indeed  a  glorious  High 
 Priest,  in  whom  dwelleth  all  the  fulness  of  the  God¬ 
 head,  and  therefore  able  to  succour  us ;  who  knoweth 
 our  frame,  and  is  touched  with  a  feeling  of  our  infir¬ 
 mities,  and  therefore  willing  to  afford  us  all  necessary 
 
 aid. 
 
 How  little  do  we  know  of  the  glorious  truths  of 
 the  gospel !  How  sweet  are  the  faint  glimpses  of 
 divine  things  which  God  sometimes  gives  us  !  I 
 think  I  long  to  know  more,  because  I  know  enough 
 to  know  that  all  beyond  is  glorious,  glorious.  O  for 
 some  emanations  of  the  divine  glory  to  change  me 
 into  the  same  image  ! 
 
 11.  I  am  quite  out  of  spirits  this  afternoon.  I 
 am  discouraged,  and  think  I  shall  never  do  my  duty, 
 and  feel  as  if  I  am  not  prepared  for  the  trials  which 
 
1  28 
 
 await  me.  Yet  I  am  surrounded  with  mercies,  and 
 my  life  ought  to  be  a  life  of  gratitude.  My  impa¬ 
 tience  under  the  gentle  rebukes  of  my  heavenly 
 Father  grieves  me  to  the  heart,  and  greatly  dimin¬ 
 ishes  my  evidence  of  possessing  that  faith  which 
 works  by  love.  I  think  I  long  to  do  my  duty.  This 
 body  of  sin  and  death  is  a  burden.  If  sin  must 
 dwell  in  my  mortal  body,  I  do  pray  that  it  may  not 
 reign  there,  but,  like  the  Canaanites  that  were  left 
 among  the  children  of  Israel,  occasion  greater  watch¬ 
 fulness,  and  a  deeper  sense  of  dependence  on  God 
 for  better  evidence  that  my  sorrow  for  sin  is  of  a 
 godly  sort. 
 
 If  I  knew  as  much  as  I  ought  to  know  of  the  evil 
 of  sin,  how  could  I  ever  complain  ?  No  afflictions 
 would  seem  severe.  Instead  of  this  impatient  fro- 
 ward  spirit,  all  would  be  calmness  and  resignation 
 within.  O  God  !  what  I  know  not,  teach  thou  me  ; 
 and  make  me  satisfied  and  happy,  that  I  and  mine 
 are  in  thy  hand  as  the  clay  is  in  the  hands  of  the 
 potter.  Do  not  suffer  me  to  murmur  when  thou 
 layest  thy  hand  on  my  earthly  gourd,  but  keep  me 
 in  the  temper  of  the  Psalmist,  when  he  could  say, 
 “  Surely  I  have  behaved  and  quieted  myself  as  a 
 child  weaned  of  his  mother.”  Oh,  may  I  be  weaned 
 from  all  the  hopes  and  pleasures  which  God  sees  fit 
 to  blight  ! 
 
 12.  Sabbath.  I  heard  a  sermon  this  morning 
 from  Psal.  xvii.  15.  fiC  I  shall  be  satisfied,  when  I 
 awake,  with  thy  likeness.”  The  topics  chiefly  dwelt 
 upon  were  the  glories  of  the  heavenly  state,  and  the 
 consolations  extended  to  believers  by  the  gospel,  in 
 prospect  of  a  departure  from  the  present  world.  I 
 
 f  2 
 
V 
 
 124 
 
 reflected  that  it  might  be  the  last  Sabbath  I  should 
 be  permitted  to  spend  in  the  earthly  courts  of  the 
 Most  High,  and  the  thought  was  not  attended  with 
 those  sensations  which  it  sometimes  occasions.  For¬ 
 merly,  the  idea  of  a  separation  from  the  body  was 
 painful ;  and  I  feared  I  was  not  sufficiently  humbled, 
 to  rejoice  in  being  nothing  in  heaven,  that  God  might 
 be  all  in  all.  I  was  conscious  of  so  much  pride  and 
 self-seeking,  that  it  clouded  my  evidence  of  meetness 
 for  that  world,  where  the  loftiest  seraph  derives  his 
 happiness  principally  from  the  contemplation  and  dis¬ 
 interested  love  of  the  character  and  glory  of  God. 
 Oh  that  a  deceived  heart  may  not  turn  me  aside,  that 
 I  cannot  deliver  my  soul!  Teach  me  what  I  am, 
 Father  of  lights  !  lest  I  perish. 
 
 15.  I  was  yesterday  morning  prevented  from  spend¬ 
 ing  as  much  time  as  usual  in  private  devotion,  and 
 was  depressed  in  spirits  all  day.  Every  thing  looked 
 dark ;  and  I  yielded  to  a  superstitious  presentiment 
 of  evil,  as  far  removed  from  piety  as  from  comfort. 
 
 I  believe  the  gloomy  forebodings  we  sometimes  in¬ 
 dulge,  dishonour  God,  as  well  as  distress  ourselves, 
 and  are  a  great  hinderance  in  discharging  the  duties 
 of  life.  Superstition  and  religion  are  at  an  infinite 
 remove  from  each  other.  The  one  tends  to  terror, 
 gloom,  and  despondency ;  the  other  to  serenity, 
 cheerfulness,  and  confidence  in  God.  A  spirit  ol 
 bondage  is  the  handmaid  of  superstition;  a  spirit  of 
 filial  love  and  hope,  the  handmaid  of  religion.  Satan 
 often  fills  the  soul  with  a  thousand  dark  and  dismal 
 apprehensions,  on  purpose  to  destroy  its  confidence 
 in  God,  and  deprive  it  of  peace.  Such  suggestions 
 ought  to  be  strenuously  resisted. 
 
125 
 
 To-day  I  have  been  in  a  happier  frame.  I  had 
 in  the  morning  an  uninterrupted  and  good  season  for 
 secret  prayer ;  and,  as  usual,  I  have  experienced  the 
 benefit  of  it  through  the  day.  Nothing  has  a  more 
 pernicious  influence  on  my  spiritual  state,  than  be¬ 
 ing  deprived  of  opportunity  for  private  devotion. 
 When  I  begin  the  day  with  God,  I  am  usually 
 strengthened  for  its  duties  and  trials.  How  little 
 have  I  valued,  how  little  improved,  my  precious 
 privileges,  in  comparison  with  what  I  should  have 
 done  ! 
 
 16.  Oh  that  I  might  groan,  being  burdened  with 
 the  load  of  sin  which  I  constantly  carry  with  me  !  I 
 have  felt  not  a  little  impatience  in  endeavouring  to 
 subdue  a  peevish  humour  in  my  child.  How  little 
 effect  can  admonition  or  correction  have,  when  it  is 
 not  administered  in  a  suitable  temper,  and  accom¬ 
 panied  with  a  proper  example  !  Impatience  in  the 
 parent  must  strengthen,  rather  than  eradicate,  fret- 
 fulness  in  the  child;  for  he  will  easily  perceive  that 
 you  require  of  him  what  you  do  not  practise  yourself. 
 I  am  sometimes  almost  discouraged.  And  shall  I 
 sit  down  in  despair?  Father  of  mercies,  strengthen 
 the  poor  impotent  creature  whose  only  hope  is  in 
 thee  ! 
 
 21.  I  was  enabled,  in  secret  prayer  this  morning, 
 to  plead,  with  some  degree  of  fervour,  and,  I  hope, 
 in  faith,  for  my  dear  children.  May  I  be  enabled 
 to  continue  wrestling  mightily  with  God  for  them, 
 as  one  that  hath  power  with  him  to  prevail.  May 
 I  be  enabled  to  lay  up  for  them  a  stock  of  acceptable 
 prayers,  to  be  answering  when  I  am  in  the  dust ! 
 Oh  that,  having  been  the  instrument  of  their  natural, 
 
126 
 
 I  may  be  the  blessed  instrument  of  their  spiritual  life  ! 
 Why  were  they  given  me,  but  that  I  might  train 
 them  up  for  God  ?  This  blessed  hope  sustains  and 
 comforts  me.  What  an  honour  to  prepare  gems  for 
 the  Redeemer’s  crown  !  And  shall  my  expectations 
 be  blighted?  God  forbid.  Oh  that  every  breath 
 might  be  a  breath  of  prayer  !  Holy  Spirit,  quicken 
 my  sluggish  soul. 
 
 22.  Nature  shrinks  at  the  prospect  of  suffering. 
 But  I  can  endure  all  things  if  God  is  with  me.  In 
 general,  I  am  supported  by  the  persuasion  that  I  have 
 given  myself  to  my  Father  in  heaven,  to  dispose  of 
 me  as  he  sees  fit ;  and  I  know  he  will  do  all  things 
 well.  If  I  am  called  to  great  trials,  I  trust  he  will 
 give  me  great  grace  to  endure  them;  if  to  great  duties, 
 great  grace  to  perform  them.  I  think  I  am  princi¬ 
 pally  anxious  that  I  may  not  be  so  rebellious  as  to 
 find  fault  with  his  dispensations,  but  may  lie  low  be-^ 
 fore  my  Almighty  Sovereign,  in  a  spirit  of  childlike 
 and  loving  submission,  always  exclaiming,  Good  is 
 is  the  word  of  the  Lord,  let  him  do  for  me,  and  by 
 me,  and  with  me,  according  to  his  righteous  pleasure  ; 
 only  let  me  not  be  accounted  an  enemy,  let  me  not 
 be  found  opposing  the  cause  of  God  and  the  best 
 interests  of  his  kingdom. 
 
 If  I  am  not  deceived,  the  character  of  Jehovah 
 appears  to  me  glorious  and  lovely.  What  a  sweet 
 delineation  of  it  is  given  in  the  145th  Psalm  !  I 
 think  I  desire  to  do  more  for  my  Maker  and  Re¬ 
 deemer  than  I  have  heretofore  done.  I  am  ashamed 
 of  my  past  life ;  it  has  been  wasted,  wasted.  How 
 imperfectly  have  I  answered  the  great  purposes  of 
 my  existence  !  What  vanities  have  occupied  my 
 
127 
 
 time,  what  bubbles  engrossed  my  pursuit !  Oh  for 
 grace  to  live  while  I  pretend  to  live  !  May  the  love 
 of  Christ  henceforth  constrain  me  to  walk  in  newness 
 of  life. 
 
 28.  What  have  I  to  say  for  myself — my  gratitude, 
 my  improvement  ?  Alas  !  I  find  I  am  the  same  poor 
 short-coming  creature  still.  On  God’s  part,  my  soul 
 bears  testimony  all  is  mercy:  his  promises  are  sweet; 
 and  he  is  a  God  at  hand,  and  not  afar  off.  But  how 
 treacherous  is  my  heart;  how  unfruitful  my  life  ! 
 Oh  for  faith  more  constantly  to  hope  in  God;  for 
 grace  more  to  love,  better  to  serve  him  !  These  are 
 not,  if  I  know  my  own  heart,  unmeaning  phrases. 
 I  do,  I  think,  thirst  for  conformity  to  God.  He  is 
 perfectly  lovely.  God,  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy 
 Ghost,  in  their  united,  and  in  their  distinct  charac¬ 
 ters  and  offices,  appear  excellent  and  glorious;  and 
 my  poor  soul  longs  to  mourn  over  its  unlikeness  to 
 their  blessed  image.  Appear  for  me,  O  thou  hope 
 of  my  soul ! 
 
 TO  MISS  L.  AT  CHARLESTON,  S.  C. 
 
 Boston ,  August  5,  1813. 
 
 How  much  do  we  lose  by  setting  up  the  Dagon 
 of  our  own  selfish  desires,  in  opposition  to  the  will 
 of  God  !  Dear  M.  let  us  wrestle  and  strive  to  feel 
 a  perfect  confidence  in  the  integrity  and  uprightness 
 of  His  government,  who  disposes  of  all  things  accord¬ 
 ing  to  his  sovereign  pleasure,  not  only  with  regard 
 to  the  universe  at  large,  but  with  regard  to  us  indi¬ 
 vidually.  It  is  a  blessed  exhortation,  44  Trust  in  the 
 Dord  with  all  thine  heart,  and  lean  not  to  thine  own 
 
128 
 
 understanding.  ”  May  our  hearts  ever  respond. 
 Lord,  we  will  trust  in  thee,  for  thou  art  faithfulness 
 and  truth,  thy  throne  is  established  in  righteousness ; 
 «  good  and  upright  is  the  Lord,  therefore  will  he 
 teach  sinners  in  the  way.”  I  fear  to  say  I  long  to 
 love  him,  for  my  desires  are  so  feeble  and  languid, 
 compared  with  what  they  ought  to  be,  that  they 
 hardly  deserve  the  name ;  but  I  do  long  to  hate  the 
 vile,  dishonourable  ingratitude  which  prevents  my 
 loving  him  more.  Pray  for  me,  that  I  may  not  mis¬ 
 take  the  sparks'  of  my  own  kindling  for  the  light  of 
 heaven  ;  but  that  I  may  be  so  transformed  into  the 
 divine  likeness,  as  to  be  able  to  say,  “  Truly,  O 
 Lord,  I  am  thy  servant.” 
 
 Your  letter  was  a  great  comfort  to  me.  I  trust 
 my  dear  brother  died  in  the  faith  and  hope  of  the 
 gospel.  His  patience  under  his  severe  sufferings, 
 his  consciousness  of  the  faint  proportion  which  they 
 bore  to  the  desert  of  his  sins,  and  the  deep  interest 
 he  took  in  the  eternal  welfare  of  those  about  him, 
 furnished  pleasing  evidence  that  he  had  been  born 
 again.  When  1  learned  the  favourable  state  of  his 
 mind,  it  took  away  the  sting  of  death,  and  I  had  not 
 a  desire  to  recall  him.  On  the  contrary,  it  seemed 
 as  if  the  language  of  my  heart  ought  to  be,  and  in 
 some  poor  degree  was,  “  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul !” 
 
 August  5.  I  have  some  days  past  been  rather  weak 
 and  debilitated,  and,  at  times,  considerably  depressed 
 in  spirits.  Death  has  appeared  distressing  to  me. 
 I  have  been  too  anxious  to  live.  My  heart  is  drawn 
 out  in  love  to  my  poor  fellow-worms,  who  have  been 
 the  mere  instruments  by  which  God  has  conveyed 
 
129 
 
 his  mercies  to  my  soul,  while  my  heavenly  Benefac¬ 
 tor,  the  source  of  all  I  enjoy  and  all  I  need,  has  been 
 forgotten.  Oh  my  leanness,  my  leanness  ! 
 
 I  think  I  had  some  life  in  prayer  this  evening, 
 some  feelings  of  satisfaction  at  being  in  the  hands  of 
 God  for  life  and  death.  I  think  the  employments 
 of  heaven  seemed  sweet  to  me,  and  a  place  at  God’s 
 right  hand  desirable,  as  a  release  from  this  bondage 
 of  corruption,  under  which  I  desire  continually  to 
 groan.  Thou  Searcher  of  hearts,  teach  me  what  I 
 am  !  And  O  bear  up  my  fainting  spirit,  amidst  all 
 the  trials  and  temptations  which  beset  me,  in  my 
 journey  through  the  wilderness  of  this  world,  so  that 
 I  may  not  dishonour  thee  by  impatience,  despon¬ 
 dency,  and  unbelief!  Dear  Saviour,  I  long  to  see 
 thee  with  the  eye  of  faith  !  Unbelief  throws  her 
 mist  over  my  soul,  and  I  grovel  in  darkness.  Shine 
 into  my  heart,  and  give  me  the  light  of  the  know¬ 
 ledge  of  thy  glory ! 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  BOSTON. 
 
 Neix>  London ,  September  2,  1813. 
 
 As  I  know  it  will  be  gratifying  to  you  to  hear  of 
 our  welfare,  I  embrace  this  early  opportunity  to  in¬ 
 form  you  of  it.  The  first  and  second  days  of  our 
 journey  were  very  unpleasant.  On  Wednesday 
 night  we  reached,  very  much  to  our  satisfaction,  the 
 welcome  habitation  of  our  parents. 
 
 How  refreshing  is  rest  after  the  fatigues  of  a 
 journey !  How  comfortable  is  home,  after  having 
 been  wandering,  for  days,  or  weeks,  among  stran¬ 
 gers  !  Could  we,  my  dear  H.  feel  about  spiritual, 
 
 r  3 
 
130 
 
 as  we  do  about  temporal  things,  sweet  indeed  would 
 be  the  prospect  of  leaving  our  earthly  house  of  this 
 tabernacle,  and  entering  into  that  eternal  habitation, 
 that  habitation  of  rest,  that  remaineth  for  the  people 
 of  God ! 
 
 Could  we  but  climb  where  Moses  stood, 
 
 And  view  the  landscape  o’er, 
 
 — could  we  feel  that  our  souls  were  prepared  for  the 
 employments  and  the  joys  oi  the  heavenly  world, 
 how  pleasant  would  be  the  thought,  that  the  hours 
 which  must  intervene  before  we  enter  the  promised 
 land,  are  so  rapidly  passing  away  !  May  we,  my 
 dear  girl,  be  enabled  so  to  work  out  our  salvation, 
 so  to  stand  like  those  who  wait  for  the  coming  of 
 their  Lord,  as  to  rejoice,  at  the  end  of  our  course, 
 in  an  admission  to  those  mansions  which  Jesus  has 
 gone  to  prepare,  in  his  Father’s  house,  for  them  that 
 love  him.  That  life  is  best  spent  which  has  con¬ 
 tinually  this  end  for  its  object. 
 
 October  3.  Since  last  writing  in  this  Journal, 
 [Aug.  5,]  I  have  experienced  a  variety  of  changes 
 both  in  situation  and  feeling.  Soon  after  that  date 
 I  went  to  Bridgewater  for  my  health,  and  was  a  good 
 deal  cast  down,  and,  I  fear,  unreconciled  to  the  di¬ 
 vine  will  respecting  me.  The  thought  of  leaving 
 my  husband  and  children  was  very  distressing.  A 
 cloud  of  darkness  hid  the  divine  countenance  from 
 my  soul,  and  I  walked  in  the  gloom  of  midnight. 
 One  communion  season  was  allowed  me  while  there, 
 but  I  did  not  enjoy  it ;  and  all  the  afternoon  I  was 
 seeking  after  an  absent  God.  My  mind  was  greatly 
 distressed.  It  appeared  to  me  that  an  idolatrous 
 
131 
 
 attachment  to  the  creature,  and  an  extreme  desire  to 
 live,  were  the  separating  sins  between  God  and  my 
 soul ;  and  I  was  afraid  that,  at  the  last,  I  should  be 
 found  wanting.  One  great  cause  of  anxiety  was, 
 lest,  when  I  should  become  sick  unto  death,  I  should 
 be  left  to  those  turns  of  gloom  and  despair  to  which 
 I  have  been  subject  from  infancy;  and  thus  manifest 
 my  want  of  the  graces  of  faith  and  love,  and  bring  a 
 reproach  upon  religion. 
 
 Never  was  there  so  impotent,  so  weak  a  creature 
 as  I.  Truly  I  am  crushed  before  the  moth.  If  I 
 ever  endure  hardness  as  a  good  soldier  of  the  cross, 
 all  the  glory  will,  plainly,  be  the  Lord’s.  If  I  am 
 called  to  endure  affliction,  and  am  not  swallowed  up 
 with  overmuch  sorrow,  it  will  evidently  be  the  strength 
 of  God  alone  that  sustains  me :  and  I  do  think  I 
 shall  not,  I  cannot,  be  so  ungrateful  as  to  forget  the 
 merciful  and  powerful  hand  that  has  upheld  me. 
 O  God,  have  pity  on  thy  poor  worm,  who  shrinks  at 
 the  slightest  blast;  and  let  thine  own  power  rest  upon 
 me  !  Then  indeed  shall  my  infirmity  be  my  glory. 
 
 10.  I  am  again  called  to  write  in  a  chamber  of 
 sickness.  On  the  4th  I  took  a  severe  cold,  and 
 have  ever  since  been  confined.  My  mind  was  at 
 first  in  a  comfortable  frame;  but  on  Friday,  I  felt 
 greatly  distressed  on  account  of  my  rebellious  dispo¬ 
 sition.  When  in  health  I  think  I  can  say,  “  Thy 
 will  be  done ;”  but  as  soon  as  there  appears  to  be 
 danger  of  being  called  from  life,  I  feel  that  I  am  far 
 from  the  spirit  which  these  words  express.  One  of 
 my  domestics  has  also  been  taken  sick,  and  obliged 
 to  go  away.  I  feel  that  my  chastisements  are  just. 
 God  has  been  dealing  with  me  for  my  sins. 
 
132 
 
 I  have  been  deprived  of  the  privilege  of  attend¬ 
 ing  the  communion  to-day.  I  hope  to  be  humbled, 
 by  it.  My  gracious  Lord,  I  think,  did  lead  me  to 
 plead  with  him  for  those  spiritual  provisions,  of  which 
 the  provisions  of  his  table  are  the  symbols.  I  think 
 1  felt  my  will  more  bowed,  and  a  greater  desire  to 
 relinquish  every  idol,  than  at  any  time  before.  God 
 grant  I  may  not  be  deceived !  O  that  I  may 
 henceforward  live  as  a  pilgrim  and  a  stranger  on  the 
 earth ;  that  I  may  not  be  so  dismayed  when  I  have 
 reason  to  apprehend  death  may  be  near  !  I  must 
 be  more  frequent  in  the  practice  of  self-examination; 
 a  duty  I  have  much  neglected,  chiefly  because  I  have 
 found  it  so  difficult  to  perform  it  without  distraction; 
 a  fact  that  should  have  had  just  the  contrary  influ¬ 
 ence,  exciting  me  to  more  frequent  and  strenuous 
 endeavours  to  perform  it  aright.  O  God,  lead  me 
 into  the  knowledge  of  myself,  and  guide  me  in  the 
 way  everlasting ! 
 
 13.  This  has  been  a  public  day.  When  I  saw 
 the  multitudes  flocking  to  see  the  parade,  &c.  I 
 could  not  help  reflecting,  how  much  more  I  enjoyed 
 in  my  sick  chamber,  than  they  possibly  could  in  such 
 futile  pleasures.  And  if  I,  who  am  less  than  the 
 least  of  all  saints,  enjoy  so  much,  what  must  those 
 who  continually  live  near  to  God  enjoy?  Those 
 lines  of  Pope, 
 
 “  One  self-approving  hour  whole  years  outweighs 
 
 Of  stupid  starers  and  of  loud  huzzas,” 
 
 came  into  my  mind :  and,  though  I  do  not  altoge¬ 
 ther  agree  with  him  in  the  spirit  of  the  passage,  pre¬ 
 suming  that  he  refers  to  a  satisfactory  consciousness 
 
133 
 
 of  rectitude  before  the  Deity,  yet  there  is  a  sweet 
 peace  arising  from  the  humble  hope  that  our  conduct 
 is  in  some  good  measure  regulated  by  the  standard 
 of  the  gospel,  and  that  our  aim  is  universal  obe¬ 
 dience.  This  peace  is  unspeakably  consolatory. 
 Such  a  peace  it  is  that  Jesus  has  left  to  his  disciples; 
 a  peace  founded  on  evidence  of  that  faith  in  Christ 
 which  justifies  the  soul  before  God,  purifies  us  from 
 dead  works,  and  leads  us  in  newness  of  spirit  to  serve 
 the  living  God ! 
 
 25.  What  a  delicate  office  is  that  of  a  mother ! 
 How  wary  should  be  her  footsteps ;  how  spotless  her 
 example  ;  how  uniform  her  patience ;  how  extensive 
 her  knowledge  of  the  human  heart;  how  great  her 
 skill  in  using  that  knowledge,  by  the  most  vigilant 
 and  strenuous  application  of  it  in  every  variety  of 
 occurring  circumstances,  to  enlighten  the  understand¬ 
 ing  and  reform  the  heart !  Legislators  and  gover¬ 
 nors  have  to  enact  laws,  and  compel  men  to  observe 
 them ;  mothers  have  to  implant  the  principles,  and 
 cultivate  the  dispositions,  which  alone  can  make 
 good  citizens  and  subjects.  The  former  have  to 
 exert  authority  over  characters  already  formed;  the 
 latter  have  to  mould  the  character  of  the  future  man, 
 giving  it  a  shape,  which  will  make  him  either  an  in¬ 
 strument  of  good  to  the  world,  or  a  pest  in  the  lap  of 
 society.  O  that  a  constant  sense  of  the  importance 
 and  responsibility  of  this  station  may  rest  upon  me  ! 
 that  grace  may  be  given  me  faithfully  to  discharge 
 its  difficult  duties ! 
 
 30.  I  have  been  thinking  of  those  words  of  James, 
 “  If  any  man  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God,  that 
 giveth  to  all  men  liberally,  and  upbraideth  not ;  and 
 
134 
 
 it  shall  be  given  him.  But  let  him  ask  in  faith, 
 nothing  wavering.”  I  believe  Christians  are  often 
 lean  from  clay  to  day,  because,  though  they  ask  for 
 grace,  they  do  not  ask  in  faith.  I  sometimes  feel 
 so  little  and  so  vile,  that  I  fear  God  will  disdain  to 
 help  me.  But  I  am  always  unhappy  when  I  am  in 
 such  a  frame.  Surely  the  God  who  gave  me  a  spirit 
 capable  of  loving  and  serving  him,  cannot  esteem  it 
 beneath  him  to  regard  my  cry,  when  I  plead  that  my 
 soul  may  be  fitted  for  his  service.  I  fear  I  indulge 
 too  much  in  a  spirit  of  bondage,  which  generates 
 gloom,  terror,  superstition,  and  despair.  I  am  always 
 happiest  when  I  can  view  God  as  a  merciful  Crea¬ 
 tor,  who  is  more  ready  to  give  spiritual  than  tempo¬ 
 ral  blessings,  and  has  given  us  every  encouragement 
 we  can  desire  to  trust,  in  him.  The  idea  that  God 
 is  not  willing  to  help  me,  that  he  is  a  iiaid  master, 
 that  I  have  not  obtained,  and  shall  never  obtain,  his 
 grace,  or  any  similar  discouraging  thought,  paralyzes 
 my  exertions,  throws  a  superstitious  terror  over  my 
 soul,  which  drives  me  from  prayer,  and  unfits  me  for 
 every  duty.  I  must  believe,  that  though  the  vision 
 tarry,  it  is  my  duty  to  wait  for  it.  I  es,  my  soul, 
 wait  at  wisdom’s  gate,  and  thou  shalt-  not  be  disap¬ 
 pointed.  Though  thy  sins  discourage  thee,  and  thy 
 worldly  attachments  alarm  thee,  wait  upon  that  Je¬ 
 sus  who  was  never  called  upon  in  vain.  O  my  God, 
 glory  be  to  thy  name,  that  I  can  hope  in  thy  mercy, 
 and  believe  that  thou  wilt  one  day  bruise  Satan  under 
 my  feet,  and  give  me  a  complete  and  final  victory  ! 
 I  beseech  thee  let  me  not  be  deceived  ! 
 
 31.  I  have  been  very  much  tried  to-night  with 
 sceptical  and  unbelieving  thoughts.  Oh  that  I  may 
 
135 
 
 be  brought  out  of  the  horrible  pit  and  the  miry  clay  • 
 that  I  may  bewail  these  things,  not  merely  as  a 
 calamity,  but  also  as  a  sin  !  It  is  a  hard  conflict. 
 I  hope  I  shall  be  enabled  to  wait  upon  God  and  not 
 faint.  I  feel  that  I  am  blind  and  ignorant.  God 
 grant  this  trial  may  be  the  forerunner  of  more 
 glorious  manifestations  than  any  I  have  received. 
 Yet  I  do  think  the  religion  of  Christ  seems  to  me  a 
 glorious  religion,  a  religion  worthy  of  an  all-perfect 
 God,  a  religion  embracing  principles  more  elevated, 
 motives  more  noble  and  powerful,  of  a  tendency  more 
 holy  and  desirable,  than  the  heart  of  man  could  have 
 conceived.  Yes,  my  faithless,  treacherous  soul !  it 
 is  the  truth  of  God.  I  can,  I  do,  stake  upon  it  my 
 everlasting  all. 
 
 November  5.  What  a  great,  what  a  blessed  thing 
 to  be  a  Christian  indeed !  Surely,  after  evidence 
 of  having  attained  this  glorious  character,  I  do  pant 
 and  strive.  I  would  rather  be  a  Christian  than  the 
 monarch  of  the  world.  That  blessed  name  embraces 
 and  supposes  principles  more  elevated,  and  joys  more 
 exalted,  than  all  other  names  combined.  Men  may 
 talk  of  honour,  of  integrity,  and  of  moral  rectitude ; 
 they  may  dream  of  pleasure,  and  follow  the  phan¬ 
 tom  till  they  die ;  but  the  Christian  alone  possesses 
 dispositions  calculated  to  make  us  either  truly  good 
 or  truly  happy.  So  long  as  man  is  supremely  bent 
 on  his  own  interests,  his  morality  must  be  defective. 
 None  but  a  principle  embracing  universal  good,  and 
 loving  supremely  what  is  supremely  excellent,  will 
 do  for  creatures  formed  for  happiness ;  for  in  loving 
 ourselves  supremely,  we  love  what  is  infinitely  un¬ 
 lovely  ;  and  in  seeking  our  own  interest  as  our  high- 
 
136 
 
 est  end,  we  virtually  take  up  arms  against  all  that 
 is  excellent  in  the  universe.  Oh  for  the  precious 
 spirit  of  the  gospel,  which  makes  us  willing  to  be 
 nothing  ourselves,  that  God  may  be  all  in  all. 
 
 14.  How  kind,  how  good  is  God  !  How  mer¬ 
 cifully  has  he  removed  all  my  complaints,  and  given 
 me,  once  more,  health  and  strength  !  I  am  amazed 
 at  my  ingratitude.  How  little  dependence  can  be 
 placed  on  death-bed  repentance  !  In  my  own  expe¬ 
 rience,  how  much  have  I  seen  of  the  evanescent 
 nature  of  resolutions  formed  in  seasons  of  sickness  ! 
 Alas  !  it  is  my  grief,  that  a  return  of  health  brings 
 a  return  of  cares ;  and  in  the  whirlpool  of  neces¬ 
 sary  employments  for  the  poor  body,  God  and  my 
 soul  are  almost  forgotten.  Why  is  my  heart  so 
 treacherous,  so  prone  to  leave  the  centre  of  all  my 
 hopes,  the  God  in  whose  hand  my  breath  is,  and 
 whose  are  all  my  ways?  I  long  to  weep,  and  weep 
 away  this  heart  of  stone,  and  to  honour  God  by  the 
 steady  exercise  of  all  the  graces  of  the  Spirit.  Oh 
 for  a  vigorous  and  overcoming  faith  !  Oh  for  grace 
 to  live  above  the  world. — On  reviewing  the  past 
 week,  how  little  have  I  done  of  the  great  work  for 
 which  I  was  sent  into  the  world  !  I  have  said  some¬ 
 thing  for  God ;  but  have  I  done  any  thing  for  him  ? 
 and  were  my  motives  pure  in  what  I  said  ?  How 
 much  strange  fire  has  been  mixed  with  my  best 
 duties !  I  should  lie  down  in  despair,  had  not  God 
 laid  help  on  One  mighty  to  save. 
 
 17.  I  think  I  have,  this  evening,  some  feeble 
 desires  after  God.  It  does  seem  that  I  am  growing 
 in  the  knowledge  of  my  own  heart,  and  seeing  more 
 of  the  preciousness  of  the  Saviour.  Life  appears  to 
 
137 
 
 me  to  be  chiefly  desirable  as  a  medium  of  glorifying 
 God ;  and  to  live  to  the  flesh,  even  if  there  were  no 
 difference  to  he  made  between  the  righteous  and  the 
 wicked  at  death,  seems  to  me  undesirable,  and  I  had 
 almost  said,  (and  I  ought  to  be  able  to  say,)  hateful. 
 To  be  holy  !  those  blessed  words  kindle  desires  in 
 my  soul  inexpressibly  more  elevated  and  ardent,  and 
 suppose  joys  more  delightful  and  transporting  to  me, 
 than  all  the  combined  allurements  of  the  world  And 
 yet,  (oh,  how  can  it  be  so  !)  my  sluggish  spirit  tires 
 and  faints  in  the  pursuit  of  the  former,  while,  till 
 roused  to  a  sense  of  my  guilt  in  doing  so,  to  pursue 
 the  latter  is  comparatively  easy  !  Deplorable,  crimi¬ 
 nal  inconsistency ! 
 
 December  5.  I  have  once  more  been  permitted  to 
 commemorate  the  dying  love  of  Jesus.  Through 
 the  preparatory  exercises,  I  was  troubled  with  wan¬ 
 dering  thoughts,  and  apprehended  a  barren  season. 
 I  hope,  however,  it  was  not  entirely  so.  I  think  I 
 felt  my  own  utter  destitution  of  every  good  thing, 
 and  was,  in  some  measure,  enabled  to  apply,  as  an 
 empty  sinner,  to  a  full  Saviour.  I  think  I  saw 
 something  of  the  preciousness  of  the  dear  Redeemer, 
 and  had  some  thankful  remembrance  of  his  death, 
 some  longing  desires  to  know  and  love  him  more, 
 some  sweet  emotions  of  Christian  charity  toward  my 
 fellow-travellers  to  the  Zion  above.  I  think  I 
 longed  to  be  enlightened  in  all  gospel  truth,  and  to 
 be  completely  conformed  to  the  image  of  Christ,  to 
 have  my  soul  filled  with  the  love  of  God.  For  a 
 few  moments  I  felt  that  it  was  inexpressibly  sweet 
 to  be  so  near  to  God.  Dear  Jesus  !  what  I  know 
 not,  teach  thou  me  !  Carry  me  safely  through  the 
 
153 
 
 dismal  wilderness  of  this  world,  which  I  am  so  apt  to 
 look  upon  as  my  home  !  And  O  how  delightful  it 
 will  be  to  sing,  “  Worthy  is  the  Lamb,”  wdien  I 
 arrive  at  the  heavenly  hills,  where  they  sit,  and 
 celebrate,  without  weariness,  thy  praise  ! 
 
 17,  I  have  had  some  precious  seasons  in  prayer 
 since  I  wrote  last.  I  felt  this  morning,  and  a  day 
 or  two  since,  such  a  sv»Teet  consciousness  that  I  had 
 committed  my  soul  into  the  hands  of  Jesus,  that  I 
 was  almost  assured  that  his  grace  would  always  be 
 extended  to  me,  and  be  sufficient  for  me.  I  felt 
 that  my  own  extreme  weakness  was  no  reason  for 
 distress ;  for  if  I  was  called  to  great  trials,  especially 
 to  bereavements  and  death,  (at  the  prospect  of  which 
 my  fearful  soul  always  trembles,)  God  would  surely 
 give  me  necessary  aid.  But  to-night  I  am  so  bound 
 down  by  earthly  ties,  so  knit  to  the  creature,  that  I 
 have  no  spiritual  enjoyment.  These  endearing  tem¬ 
 poral  connections ;  how  they  wind  about  my  heart, 
 and,  by  the  excess  of  devotedness  which  they  en¬ 
 gage,  agonize,  at  the  same  time  that  they  delight, 
 my  soul !  I  am  in  little  or  no  danger  of  falling  into 
 the  snare  of  dissipation  and  extravagance ;  but  I  am 
 in  danger  from  a  quarter  perhaps  no  less  alarming, 
 because  more  specious,  and  glossed  over  by  so  many 
 things  which  are  really  necessary  and  proper,  as  al¬ 
 most  to  elude  suspicion.  Dear  Saviour  !  enable  me 
 to  crucify  every  inordinate  affection ;  and  do  thou 
 reign  supreme  in  my  heart. 
 
 January  7 ,  1814.  I  have  had  some  happy  mo¬ 
 ments  in  committing  my  guilty  and  helpless  soul  into 
 the  hands  of  my  Redeemer.  I  feel  an  unspeakable 
 tranquillity  in  the  belief,  that  when  I  am  in  trouble, 
 
139 
 
 and  need  his  aid  especially  in  the  hour  of  death,  he 
 will  remember  the  trust  I  have  committed  to  him,  and 
 appear  for  me.  How  infinitely  does  the  joy?  arising 
 from  a  strong  scriptural  hope  of  union  to  him,  out¬ 
 weigh  all  earthly  pleasures  combined !  Oh  yes  ! 
 religion  is  the  sweetest  solace  of  life.  When  that 
 reigns  in  the  soul,  all  is  harmony  and  peace. 
 
 TO  MISS  L.  AT  CHARLESTON,  S.  C. 
 
 Boston ,  January  16,  1814. 
 
 I  rejoice  to  hear  of  your  sister’s  recovery.  I 
 trust  she  will  be  enabled  to  say  from  the  heart, 
 
 My  life  which  thou  hast  made  thy  care, 
 
 Lord,  I  devote  to  thee. 
 
 Surely  those  who  have  been  brought  near  to  the 
 grave,  and  are  unexpectedly  restored  to  health,  are 
 under  special  obligations  of  love  and  gratitude.  And 
 it  is  one  of  the  most  awful  and  convincing  proofs  of 
 our  inveterate  tendency  to  sin,  that  recovering  mercy 
 so  seldom  excites  those  holy  and  grateful  disposi¬ 
 tions,  which  we  think  we  shall  exercise  when  plead¬ 
 ing  for  deliverance  from  sickness  and  death.  Yes, 
 dear  M.  we  do  indeed  need  line  upon  line,  and  pre¬ 
 cept  upon  precept,  and  continual  supplies  of  grace, 
 to  keep  alive  in  our  souls  the  spark  of  spiritual  life. 
 Blessed  be  God,  that  he  will  undertake  with  crea¬ 
 tures  so  perverse,  so  obstinate,  and  bring  them  into 
 the  way  of  life,  and  keep  them  there,  by  the  un¬ 
 merited  watchfulness  of  his  love,  by  those  kind  and 
 merciful  dispensations  which  we  call  afflictions. 
 
140 
 
 When  our  prospects  darken,  how  apt  are  we  to 
 lose  all  our  joys,  not  remembering  that,  though  we 
 change,  God  abideth  faithful!  We  always  have 
 cause  enough  to  rejoice  and  be  glad  in  the  Lord,  al¬ 
 though  we  often  have  cause  for  nothing  but  sorrow 
 and  humiliation  in  ourselves.  But  we  cannot  be  con¬ 
 tent  to  be  nothing,  that  God  may  be  all  in  all.  Self 
 will  rise,  and  plead  for  a  little  gratification.  Happy 
 are  we  if  a  little  is  all  we  give. 
 
 What  is  the  reason,  my  dear  M.  that  some  Chris¬ 
 tians  glorify  God  so  much  more  than  others  ?  Is 
 the  deficiency  of  the  latter,  in  this  respect,  to  be  al¬ 
 ways  and  exclusively  ascribed  to  their  own  negligence? 
 Nothing  seems  to  me  so  desirable  as  to  live  only  to 
 God ;  to  have  no  will,  no  interest,  no  fear,  no  desires, 
 contrary  to  him.  But,  alas  !  instead  of  this,  it  is 
 only  now  and  then  that  I  feel,  in  any  measure,  that 
 this  is  my  case ;  while  the  principal  part  of  my  time 
 is  wretchedly  filled  with  selfishness  and  sin.  But  it 
 can  do  no  good  to  complain  to  the  creature.  I  only 
 mention  these  things,  that  you  may  be  induced  con¬ 
 stantly  to  pray  that  I  may  be  quickened,  that  I  may 
 not  walk  in  a  vain  show,  until  the  just  indignation  of 
 a  holy  God  sweep  me  away  for  ever. 
 
 Have  you  read  Hannah  More’s  Christian  Mo¬ 
 rals  ?  Is  it  not  excellent  ?  How  much  of  Chris¬ 
 tian  knowledge  and  Christian  feeling  she  manifests. 
 The  Essay  styled,  ts  Thy  will  be  done,”  ought  to  be 
 engraven  on  every  professor’s  heart.  What  a  mercy 
 it  is  that  our  lingering  steps,  our  misjudging  appre¬ 
 hensions,  have  so  many  excellent  helps  !  But  the 
 best  guide  of  all  is  the  Bible.  How  can  we  esti- 
 
141 
 
 mate  the  mercy  of  having  such  a  guide  always  at 
 hand  ? 
 
 Do  you  see  the  Christian  Observer  ?  There  has 
 been,  in  some  of  the  last  numbers,  a  sketch  of  a 
 most  interesting  debate  in  the  British  Parliament, 
 respecting  the  propagation  of  Christianity  in  India. 
 The  missionary  cause  appears  to  be  rapidly  advanc¬ 
 ing;  the  angel,  having  the  everlasting  gospel  to 
 preach  to  every  nation,  and  kindred  and  tongue,  and 
 people,  seems  to  have  commenced  his  flight.  How' 
 reviving  to  know  that  this  cause,  of  all  causes  the 
 best,  is  flourishing,  especially  in  that  part  of  the 
 world  which  has  hitherto  been  enveloped  in  the  thick 
 darkness  of  ignorance  and  sin.  Yes,  Jesus  shall 
 reign  over  all.  May  the  blessed  day  be  hastened ! 
 
 23.  I  wish  to  record  the  mercies  of  the  past  week, 
 as  having  been  singularly  great,  and  affording  abun¬ 
 dant  encouragement  for  the  future.  On  Monday, 
 Tuesday,  Wednesday,  and  Thursday,  I  was  much 
 distressed,  struggling  with  a  spirit  of  murmuring 
 and  rebellion  against  the  divine  will  respecting  me. 
 But  on  Friday  morning  I  was  enabled  in  some  good 
 degree  to  lay  by  my  own  desires,  and  say,  66  Not  as 
 I  will,  but  as  thou  wilt.”  The  prospect  of  death, 
 should  God  call  me  to  that  trial,  was  sweetened ; 
 and  I  was  filled  with  a  peace  which  the  world  knows 
 not  of.  I  cannot  but  think  I  shall  glorify  my  Sa¬ 
 viour,  if  called  to  pass  through  the  furnace  ;  for  it 
 does  seem  as  if  he  is  pledged  to  perfect  his  strength 
 in  my  weakness,  and  display  his  all-sufficiency  in  sus¬ 
 taining  and  carrying  me  through  every  conflict. 
 
142 
 
 February  12.  O  my  soul !  how  pass  thy  fleeting 
 moments  !  What  account  canst  thou  give  of  thy 
 stewardship  ?  Alas  !  my  flesh  almost  trembles  at 
 these  solemn  inquiries.  I  am  alarmed  when  I  re¬ 
 member,  that  twenty-three  years  of  my  short  life  are 
 gone.  And  how  are  they  lost — lost,  never  to  be 
 recalled  !  What  has  been  done  for  God  ?  O  that 
 I  could  weep  tears  of  unmingled  sorrow  when  I  an¬ 
 swer,  Nothing  !  Were  I  now  in  awful  judgment  be¬ 
 fore  Him  who  is  the  Judge  of  all,  and  should  I  hear 
 the  heart-rending  doom  of  the  unprofitable  servant 
 pronounced  upon  me,  could  I  say  any  thing  in  self¬ 
 justification  ?  God  knows  I  could  not.  IMust  I  not, 
 may  I  not,  say  to  the  blessed  Jesus, 
 
 Where  can  I  fly  but  to  thy  breast ; 
 
 For  I  have  sought  no  other  home, 
 
 For  I  have  known  no  other  rest  ? 
 
 24.  The  situation  in  which  I  am  placed  is  very 
 trying  and  difficult.  I  am,  emphatically,  like  a  city 
 set  on  a  hill.  I  am  required  to  exhibit  the  fruits  of 
 a  full-grown  tree,  when  I  am  but  a  feeble  plant  in 
 the  garden  of  the  Lord.  Impotence  itself  is  not 
 more  helpless  than  I  am.  But  I  trust  I  am  one  of 
 those  little  ones  whom  my  Redeemer  carries  in  his 
 arms,  and  cherishes  in  his  bosom.  Blessed  be  his 
 name,  I  have  hitherto  found  him  a  strong  tower.  I 
 have  confided  in  him,  and  he  has  helped  me.  Yes, 
 many  a  time  have  I  had  reason  to  set  up,  like  Jacob, 
 a  memorial  of  deliverance  in  the  hour  of  extremity. 
 And  though,  in  view  of  the  multiform  duties  of  life, 
 I  exclaim,  How  am  I  sufficient  for  these  things?  yet 
 I  must  hope  that  I  shall  he  enabled  to  do  all  things 
 
143 
 
 through  Christ  strengthening  me.  To  him  be  glory 
 for  ever  and  ever.  Amen. 
 
 26.  No  one  can  know  the  trials  of  the  ministry 
 except  those  who  undertake  the  arduous  employment;, 
 or  those  who  reside  in  their  families.  When  we 
 consider  how  much  clergymen’s  time  is  occupied  by 
 unavoidable  company  at  home;  how  many  special 
 meetings,  if  they  are  faithful  to  their  Master,  they 
 must  attend ;  what  a  large  portion  of  their  time  is 
 occupied  with  visiting  the  sick — how  much  in  neces¬ 
 sary  preparations  for  the  pulpit — and  then,  in  addi¬ 
 tion  to  all  this,  what  numbers  of  parochial  visits  they 
 are  required  to  make,  and  censured  if  they  do  not, — 
 it  must  appear  obvious  that  their  task  is  arduous, 
 their  trials  peculiarly  great.  It  is  a  great  trial  to  be 
 obliged  to  attempt  study  when  the  mind  is  distracted 
 with  the  burden  of  a  whole  society.  It  is  a  trial  to 
 be,  as  it  were,  compelled  to  spend  that  time  in  visit¬ 
 ing  which  ought  to  be  devoted  to  writing  and  medi¬ 
 tation,  and  then  to  be  censured  for  negligent  and 
 ill-digested  sermons ;  or,  if  time  and  pains  are  taken 
 to  write  good  sermons,  to  be  complained  of  for  visit¬ 
 ing  so  little.  Surely  if  societies  and  churches  knew 
 the  trials  of  their  ministers,  in  addition  to  those  per¬ 
 sonal  troubles  which  are  common  to  all,  they  would 
 be  more  tender  of  them — more  fervent  in  prayer  for 
 them.  I  do  not  wonder  that  so  many  of  the  labour¬ 
 ers  in  the  Lord’s  vineyard  faint  before  mid-day. 
 They  ought,  in  every  way,  to  be  strengthened,  and 
 comforted,  and  encouraged,  by  their  people. 
 
 March  5.  I  think  I  can  say,  from  experience,  that 
 it  is  good  to  draw  near  to  God.  But  language  can 
 no  more  convey  to  one  who  has  no  knowledge  of  it 
 
144 
 
 from  experience,  an  idea  of  the  blessedness  of  com¬ 
 munion  with  the  Father  of  our  spirits,  than  it  can  of 
 the  nature  of  the  light  of  the  sun  to  one  who  was  born 
 blind.  It  is  indeed  ineffable ;  in  comparison  with  it, 
 every  earthly  joy  dwindles  into  insignificance,  and 
 becomes  light  as  a  puff  of  empty  air.  If  I,  who 
 have  so  little  faith,  can  say  so,  what  must  the  eminent 
 Christian  feel  ?  What  must  the  spirits  of  the  just 
 made  perfect  feel? 
 
 I  have  had  much  solicitude  for  my  children  this 
 evening.  A-t  one  time,  such  a  sense  of  the  ever¬ 
 lasting  consequences  of  the  trust  committed  to  me, 
 in  reference  to  their  immortal  souls,  rushed  upon  me 
 as  literally  made  me  shudder.  I  wonder  I  do  not 
 realize  this  more  habitually.  Oh  that  Ood  would 
 make  me  faithful,  and  crown  my  efforts  with  his 
 blessing  ! 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  BOSTON. 
 
 Bridgewater ,  March  8,  1814. 
 
 You  ask  my  advice  about  the  correction  of  chil¬ 
 dren.  I  feel  that  I  am  not  at  all  qualified  to  direct 
 in  a  thing  of  so  much  importance.  I  will,  however, 
 remark,  that  I  do  not  like  the  punishment  of  whip¬ 
 ping,  unless  when  the  child  exhibits  strong  passion, 
 or  great  obstinacy.  It  ought  to  be  the  last  resort. 
 Nor  do  I  like  those  punishments  which  are  chiefly 
 directed  to  the  selfish  principles  of  our  nature,  as  de¬ 
 priving  a  child  of  cake,  sweetmeats,  Nc.  I  should 
 rather  aim  to  cherish  feelings  of  conscious  rectitude, 
 and  the  pleasure  of  being  beloved.  I  wmuld  have  a 
 child  consider  his  parent’s  declaration,  that  he  is  not 
 
145 
 
 good,  his  worst  punishment.  For  instance,  if  your 
 little  boy  has  done  very  wrong,  I  would  tell  him  he 
 must  not  stay  with  mamma,  or  must  not  take  a  walk, 
 or  see  the  company,  or  that  he  must  eat  his  dinner 
 alone ;  and  all  because  he  is  not  good  enough  to  be 
 indulged  in  these  usual  privileges.  But  there  are 
 some  cases  in  which  the  use  of  the  rod  is  indispensable. 
 
 I  am  writing  in  the  midst  of  the  noise  of  tongues, 
 and  can  only  add,  that  I  think  very  well  of  Locke’s 
 System  of  Education,  generally;  also  of  Miss  Hamil¬ 
 ton’s,  and  Dr.  Witherspoon’s.  But,  after  all,  edu¬ 
 cation  is  only  an  instrument,  and  the  little  ones  must 
 be  borne  in  the  arms  of  faith  to  that  compassionate 
 Redeemer,  who  has  given  parents  such  abundant 
 encouragement  to  trust  in  him ;  committing  them 
 always  into  his  hands,  believing  that,  if  they  do  so, 
 he  will  direct  their  steps. 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  April  22,  1814. 
 
 Have  you  seen  the  Memoirs  of  Mrs.  Harriet 
 Newell?  It  is  a  very  interesting  book.  Such  un¬ 
 reserved  and  disinterested  devotedness  to  the  cause 
 of  Christ,  in  so  young  a  person,  appears  very  extra¬ 
 ordinary  in  these  times  of  religious  indifference  and 
 sloth.  There  was  an  elevation  and  spirituality  in 
 her  character  seldom  met  with  at  the  present  day. 
 No  one  can  help  admiring  her  excellence.  Christians 
 will  be  humbled  by  its  contemplation,  and  stimulated 
 to  greater  activity  in  the  service  of  Christ. 
 
 April.  24.  I  have  noticed  a  very  striking  difference 
 
 G  41 
 
146 
 
 between  my  religious  exercises  now  and  several  years 
 ago.  Then  I  was  all  joy;  felt  as  if  I  could  die  for 
 Christ ;  had  the  most  joyful  anticipations  of  heaven ; 
 would  sit  for  hours  almost  in  an  ecstacy,  and  sing  the 
 most  spiritual  and  elevated  of  Watts’  hymns,  particu¬ 
 larly  those  concerning  the  frailty  of  life,  the  vanity 
 of  the  world,  the  glorious  state  of  departed  spirits,  &c. 
 The  language  of  my  lips,  I  then  hoped  (and  I  still 
 hope  it  was  so  in  some  degree)  of  my  heart,  was, 
 
 Jesus  !  when  shall  that  dear  day, 
 
 That  joyful  hour  appear, 
 
 When  I  shall  leave  this  house  of  clay, 
 
 And  dwell  amongst  them  there? 
 
 But  now,  alas  !  I  too  often  feel  happy  when  I  can 
 look  with  the  least  complacency  upon  death  !  Yet 
 it  does  seem  to  me  that,  if  I  know  my  own  heart, 
 my  views  are  more  scriptural,  more  consistent,  and 
 more  mature,  than  they  were  then.  The  Bible  is 
 more  truly  precious ;  and  I  see  far  more  of  the  sin¬ 
 fulness  of  my  heart,  and  my  perfect  impotency.  At 
 times,  I  think  my  views  of  the  character  of  Christ  are 
 more  evangelical,  and  my  faith  stronger  now  than 
 they  were  then  ;  for  sometimes,  when  my  path  is 
 hedged  up,  and  I  am  ready  to  sink  in  the  deep  wateis, 
 I  am  enabled  calmly  to  stay  my  soul  upon  the  bare 
 promise  of  God.  1  certainly,  if  I  am  not  altogethei 
 deceived,  am  not  so  self-dependent  and  self-sufficient 
 now  as  1  was  then.  But  my  joy  is  not  so  constant, 
 nor  at  any  time  so  great,  and  I  am  more  frequently 
 distressed  by  doubts  of  my  being  a  Christian  at  all. 
 When  I  think  of  death,  my  dear  husband  and  chil¬ 
 dren  seem  like  66  weights  that  drag  me  downward 
 
147 
 
 still,”  and  sometimes  the  thought  of  leaving  them  is 
 overwhelming.  Still  I,  on  the  whole,  think  my  state 
 better  now  than  it  was  then,  and  that  I  have  better 
 evidence  of  having  passed  from  death  unto  life.  Joy 
 alone  is  a  fallible  criterion.  I  had  rather  have  the 
 assurance  that  I  had  parted  with  one  darling  sin,  or 
 given  up  one  beloved  idol  for  Christ,  than  be  raised 
 to  the  third  heaven  in  joy.  But  oh  !  I  long  for  both  ! 
 I  long  to  ' 
 
 Read  my  title  clear 
 To  mansions  in  the  skies, 
 
 and  to  have  the  comfort  of  such  an  assurance.  Let 
 me,  then,  press  on ;  continually  examining  my  pro¬ 
 gress  by  the  word  of  God,  and  applying  for  fresh 
 anointing  to  my  great  High  Priest ;  and  my  hope 
 will  be  like  the  morning  light,  which  shineth  more 
 and  more  unto  the  perfect  day. 
 
 25.  How  poor  and  despicable  is  the  ambition  of 
 living  merely  to  shine  !  How  many  trifle  away  their 
 little  span,  in  the  useless  glitter  of  brilliant  nothing¬ 
 ness  !  It  is  a  selfishness  to  desire  to  live  merely  to 
 be  admired,  which  one  pities  at  the  same  time  that 
 he  condemns  it.  It  is  a  spectacle,  at  once  curious 
 and  melancholy,  and  that  would  create  astonishment, 
 were  it  not  accounted  for  by  the  depravity  of  the 
 human  heart,  to  see  the  worms  of  yesterday,  who  to¬ 
 morrow  are  not,  and  whose  knowledge  is,  at  best,  a 
 mere  point,  vainly  swelling  with  the  ostentation  and 
 pomp  of  self-complacency.  Of  how  little  conse¬ 
 quence  is  it  whether  we  live  splendidly,  if  we  live 
 usefully  !  This  is  what  we  ought  to  labour  after. 
 This  is  an  ambition  which  God  approves,  an  ambition 
 
 G  2 
 
148 
 
 which  suits  the  nature  and  dependent  condition  of 
 man,  and  which  will  ennoble  and  elevate  the  faculties ; 
 but  which,  otherwise  employed,  degenerates  into  un¬ 
 profitable  waste,  and  criminal  perversion. 
 
 May  2 .  My  lungs  are  very  weak.  I  often  feel 
 .great  distress  from  very  slight  exertions  in  talking. 
 O  how  do  I  wish  that  my  little  strength  may  be  de¬ 
 voted  to  the  glory  of  God ;  that  my  breath  may  not 
 be  wasted  by  idle  and  useless  conversation  !  How 
 dreadful  to  think  that  I  have  employed  my  health  no 
 better,  for  the  best  of  Fathers,  and  in  the  best  of 
 causes  !  I  long  to  do  some  good  in  the  world, 
 long  to  be  useful  to  my  dear  fellow-creatures.  I 
 long  to  see  all  engaged  for  God.  Oh  that  these 
 desires  may  be  attained  !  I  had  some  sweet  freedom 
 in  prayer  this  morning.  I  felt  that  I  could  go  to 
 God,  through  Christ,  as  my  Father.  I  think  I  felt 
 something  of  the  spirit  of  adoption,  and  saw  some¬ 
 thing  of  the  preciousness  of  Christ;  remembered  with 
 satisfaction  and  thankfulness,  that  he  had  trodden 
 the  rugged  path  of  human  life,  and  the  rough  descent 
 to  the  valley  of  death,  and  smoothed  them  both  for 
 his  children ;  and  felt  as  if  I  could  follow  where  he 
 had  led  the  way. 
 
 This  day  I  resolved  to  set  apart  fifteen  minutes 
 every  day  for  special  prayer  in  every  season  of  afflic¬ 
 tion,  and  especially  for  strength  to  conquer  my  last 
 enemy  death.  I  need  a  double  share  of  grace,  owing 
 either  to  the  weakness  of  my  faith,  or  to  the  extreme 
 sensibility  of  my  nerves.  I  think  I  have  given  myself 
 to  Christ.  I  hope,  I  believe,  he  will  appear  for  me 
 when  every  other  dependence  fails  me,  and  show  me 
 that  he  is  faithful  in  keeping  that  which  I  have  com- 
 
149 
 
 mitted  to  him.  I  am  nothing  but  sin  and  weakness ; 
 but  he  is  able  and  willing  to  save  to  the  uttermost  all 
 that  come  to  him. 
 
 7,  I  have  been  blessed  with  much  spiritual  com 
 fort  for  some  days  past.  I  scarcely  ever  had  such 
 distinct  exercises  of  faith.  It  has  seemed  as  if  I  was 
 as  conscious  of  the  divine  presence,  as  ever  I  was  of 
 the  presence  of  a  friend  when  conversing  with  me. 
 And  I  have  had  such  a  persuasion  that  God  did  hear 
 my  prayers,  and  have  gone  to  the  throne  of  grace 
 with  so  much  of  a  spirit  of  self-renunciation  and  sweet 
 reliance  on  the  intercession  of  Jesus,  that  I  must  con¬ 
 clude  that  my  exercises  have  been  different  from  any 
 thing  which  the  carnal  heart  can  feel.  The  necessity 
 of  a  Mediator  was  strikingly  presented  to  my  view 
 this  evening.  It  seemed  impossible  for  a  being,  so 
 holy  as  I  saw  God  to  be,  to  admit  sinners — trans¬ 
 gressors  of  his  holy  law,  and  contemners  of  his  glori¬ 
 ous  perfections — into  his  approving  presence,  without 
 a  Days-man  between  them  to  lay  his  hand  upon  both. 
 I  think  I  know  by  experience  the  meaning  of  that 
 text,  c(  To  you  that  believe  he  is  precious.” 
 
 14.  I  feel  much  comfort  to-day  in  the  thought 
 that  I  am  in  God’s  hands,  for  life  and  for  death. 
 Death  has,  indeed,  had  many  terrors  to  me ;  but  I 
 know  that  I  shall  be  more  than  a  conqueror,  if  Christ 
 strengthen  me ;  and  he  is  my  hope.  Heaven  and 
 its  employments  sometimes  appear  inexpressibly  de¬ 
 lightful. 
 
 Salvation  !  Oh,  the  joyful  sound  ! 
 
 Ear  hath  not  heard  another  so  sweet.  Yes,  I  know 
 that  God  hath  laid  up  joys,  which  the  heart  of  man 
 
150 
 
 cannot  conceive,  for  them  that  love  him.  The  gift 
 of  Christ  is  indeed,  I  feel  it  to  be,  an  unspeakable 
 gift.  My  heart  sometimes  yearns  over  my  dear, 
 miserable,  dying  fellow-sinners,  who  shut  their  eyes 
 and  ears  to  the  voice  of  mercy.  “  Madness  is  in 
 their  hearts”  of  a  truth.  But  they  know  it  not. 
 Pity  them,  O  God !  for  Jesus’  sake,  pity  and  save 
 them  ! 
 
 28.  I  have,  of  late,  been  much  more  comfortable 
 in  my  body,  and  less  so  in  my  mind.  It  seems  im¬ 
 possible  for  me  to  keep  in  a  spiritual  frame,  except 
 when  under  the  immediate  pressure  of  affliction. 
 When  I  see  how  time  flies,  and  how  little  I  do  for 
 God,  it  astonishes  me.,  Such  ingratitude  and  pride 
 would  melt  into  deep  contrition  a  heart  less  obdurate 
 than  mine.  It  is  strange,  beyond  measure,  that  I  can 
 be  contented  to  live  so  immeasurably  below  my  obliga¬ 
 tions.  O  my  God  !  teach  me  evermore  to  give  heed 
 to  thy  statutes,  and  to  have  respect  unto  all  thy  com¬ 
 mandments,  that  my  ways  may  be  cleansed  from  every 
 thing  displeasing  in  thy  sight ! 
 
 June  12.  I  heard  an  excellent  sermon  to-day, 
 from  the  words,  <c  Glorious  in  holiness.”  Exod.  xv. 
 11.  I  felt  that  I  could  rejoice  in  this  attribute  of 
 the  Most  High  as  that  which  conferred  glory  on  all 
 the  rest.  I  thought  I  could  not  wish  God  to  save 
 sinners  at  the  expense  of  this  most  precious  attribute ; 
 and  that  I  saw  the  reasonableness  and  excellency  of 
 the  law  which  condemns  sin,  and  the  wonderful 
 manifestation  and  union  of  mercy,  wisdom,  and  jus¬ 
 tice,  in  the  redemption  of  the  world  by  the  blessed 
 Saviour.  But  I  see  just  enough  of  divine  things  to 
 make  me  long  to  see  more.  Oh  !  if  these  partial 
 
151 
 
 communications  from  the  Father  of  lights  are  so 
 sweet,  what  must  heaven  be  ? 
 
 19.  My  friends  are  very  desirous  that  I  should 
 take  a  journey  into  Connecticut  for  my  health,  un¬ 
 der  the  protection  of  an  acquaintance  who  is  going 
 on  in  an  empty  carriage.  The  prospect  of  leaving 
 my  children  is  distressing.  Dear  little  creatures  ! 
 they  cling  to  me  with  the  utmost  tenderness.  I 
 sometimes  feel  it  to  be  mysterious  that  I  should  be, 
 to  such  an  extent,  disqualified,  by  the  feeble  state  of 
 my  health,  to  do  my  duty  to  them,  when  those  duties 
 are  so  important.  But  I  do  not  complain,  for  it  is 
 God  who  orders  it  thus.  If  he  were  to  deal  with 
 me  according  to  my  deserts,  I  should  be  swept  away 
 with  the  besom  of  destruction.  I  long  to  have  no 
 will  of  my  own ;  to  live  as  an  humble  child  at  the  feet 
 of  Jesus.  God  is  wise,  and  righteous,  and  good.  I 
 commit  my  way  unto  him. 
 
 July  4.  At  Killingworth ,  Conn .  O  God,  my  soul 
 is  bowed  down  to  the  dust  under  this  burden  of  sin ; 
 a  grievous  load,  too  heavy  to  be  borne  !  Oh  !  who 
 shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death  ?  Thou 
 blessed  Jesus,  who  art  able  to  bruise  sin  and  Satan 
 under  my  feet,  I  fly  to  thee  !  I  humbly  implore 
 thy  aid,  to  strengthen  me  to  perform  and  keep  this 
 resolution  which  I  this  day  make.  I  solemnly  re¬ 
 solve  to  endeavour,  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord,  to 
 be  more  watchful  over  myself,  to  maintain  a  constant 
 sense  of  the  divine  presence,  to  take  time  to  medi¬ 
 tate,  and  think  how  Jesus  would  have  acted  in  my 
 situation,  before  I  act,  that  I  may  not  rashly  say  or 
 do  those  things  which,  afterwards,  I  could  weep  the 
 bitterest  tears  to  recall.  Blessed  Redeemer,  do  thou 
 
152 
 
 assist  me,  or  rather,  do  thou  work  by  me  and  for  me, 
 or  I  shall  be  swallowed  up  in  the  mighty  flood  of  cor¬ 
 ruption  which  threatens  to  overwhelm  me.  Help, 
 Lord  !  or  I  must  perish  ! 
 
 20.  I  am  in  great  distress.  My  dear  father  is 
 apparently  on  the  brink  of  the  grave,  with  a  dreadful 
 fever.  My  hand  trembles  so  I  can  scarcely  write. 
 It  seems  as  if  my  feeble  frame  could  not  support  me 
 through  the  trial.  Dearest  of  earthly  friends,  hus¬ 
 band  and  children  excepted  !  Were  it  not  for  the 
 consolation  of  knowing  that  God  reigns,  what  should 
 I  do  ?  Heaven  spare  him  !  Heaven  prepare  us, 
 and  especially  my  dear  mother,  for  what  is  before  us  ! 
 Heaven  support  me,  or  I  shall  not  bear  the  trial  which 
 God  seems  about  to  send  ! 
 
 22.  The  conflict  is  over.  My  dear  father,  who 
 loved  me  as  himself,  is  gone,  never  to  return  !  I 
 may  say  with  the  Apostle,  I  am  6(  troubled,  but  not 
 forsaken ;  cast  down,  but  not  destroyed.”  But  the 
 wound  is  deep ;  it  can  never  be  healed.  Dear 
 man  !  I  dwell  too  much  on  the  mere  earthly  cir¬ 
 cumstances  of  this  afflicting  event.  I  ought  to  look 
 beyond  the  veil.  His  sufferings  were  great ;  it 
 pierces  my  heart  to  think  of  them.  But  what  were 
 they  to  the  glory  now  revealed?  Blessed  be  God 
 for  the  satisfactory  evidence  he  gave  of  preparation 
 for  the  great  change,  and  for  the  spiritual  comfort 
 he  enjoyed,  amid  his  bodily  pains,  and  in  prospect 
 of  death  !  I  would  bow  at  the  solemn  rebuke,  and 
 say,  66  Thy  will  be  done  !”  God  of  mercy,  support, 
 comfort,  and  sanctify  me  ! 
 
 Aug .  4.  I  feel,  I  hope,  sincerely  desirous  that  this 
 solemn  providence  may  be  sanctified.  How  can  I 
 
153 
 
 again  lean  upon  such  a  broken  staff  as  this  world  ? 
 How  can  I  ever  again  think  myself  secure  in  the 
 possession  of  any  earthly  good  ?  Oh  that  I  might 
 feel,  hereafter,  that  I  am  indeed  living  as  a  proba¬ 
 tioner  for  eternity  !  Now  I  ought  to  shake  myself 
 from  the  impure  adhesions  of  this  wretched  world, 
 and  be  more  engaged  in  the  work  I  was  created  to 
 do.  Now  it  is  high  time  to  awake  out  of  sleep. 
 But  I  am  too  much  like  the  sluggard  who  is  roused 
 by  the  accusations  of  conscience,  but  still  is  too  in¬ 
 dolent  to  rise.  I  am  clogged,  paralyzed,  by  <c  this 
 body  of  death.”  I  cannot  excuse  my  supineness. 
 I  can  only  cry,  <£  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner !” 
 I  feel  that  it  is  only  because  Jehovah  is  infinite  in 
 mercy,  that  I  am  not  beyond  the  reach  of  hope.  I 
 have  reason  to  bless  his  holy  name  for  the  supports 
 he  vouchsafed  me  in  the  hour  of  trial.  I  think  I 
 had  some  precious  views  of  his  character,  and  of  the 
 rectitude  of  his  government — some  earnest  desires 
 that  my  sins,  my  idols,  should  all  be  buried  in  my 
 beloved  father’s  grave — some  sense  of  the  evil  of  sin, 
 on  account  of  which  a  merciful  God  was  compelled 
 in  faithfulness  to  inflict  so  severe  a  chastisement 
 upon  me.  But  alas  !  how  is  it  with  me  now  ?  My 
 dear  husband  is  come ;  and  I  find  I  still  lean  to  the 
 creature,  and  am  wickedly  reposing  on  one  who, 
 like  myself,  is  crushed  before  the  moth ;  one  whom 
 God  sent  to  comfort  me,  a  blessing  which  he  kindly 
 lent  me,  but  which  I,  wretched  creature  !  am  dis¬ 
 posed  to  put  in  the  place  of  God  !  O  how  treach¬ 
 erous  is  my  heart !  What  a  miracle  of  mercy  that 
 my  heavenly  Father  spares  so  perverse  a  child  !  I 
 
 g  3 
 
154 
 
 can  only  bring  my  soul  to  the  efficacious  fountain 
 which  grace  has  opened  for  sin  and  uncleanness. 
 Here  must  I  lie,  for  it  is  my  only  hope. 
 
 5.  What  a  changing,  dying  world  !  How  does 
 every  relic  of  departed  joys  whisper  to  my  soul,  This 
 is  not  your  rest  !  On  every  side  I  behold  memorials 
 of  my  departed  father.  They  loudly  speak  the  vanity 
 of  earthly  comforts  and  pursuits,  and  hid  me  lay  up 
 treasure  in  heaven.  I  hear  and  mourn;  hut  do  I 
 hear  and  profit? 
 
 For  us  he  languished,  and  for  us  he  died, 
 
 And  shall  he  languish,  shall  he  die  in  vain  ? 
 
 7.  It  is  the  Sabbath ;  and,  on  account  of  the  great 
 dampness  of  the  weather,  and  my  peculiar  liability 
 of  late  to  take  cold,  and  a  more  than  usual  indispo¬ 
 sition,  I  have  felt  it  my  duty  to  remain  at  home. 
 What  multitudes  of  persons  in  health  forsake  the 
 assembling  of  themselves  to  hear  the  word  of  fife, 
 and  worship  Jehovah  in  his  holy  temple  !  How 
 alarmingly  prevalent,  in  our  country,  is  the  breach 
 of  the  Sabbath  becoming  !  a  sin  which  the  history  of 
 the  Israelites  shows  to  he  peculiarly  offensive  in  the 
 sight  of  God.  W e  cannot  expect  the  removal  of 
 our  national  judgments,  while,  as  a  people,  we  despise 
 the  chastening  of  the  Lord,  and  turn  not  unto  him 
 who  smiteth  us.  God  have  mercy  on  us,  and  pour 
 out  his  Spirit,  and  turn  us  unto  himself  by  repentance, 
 that  we  may  be  saved ! 
 
1 55 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  A. 
 
 Killmgworth,  August  2,  1814 
 
 You  have  been  informed  of  my  unexpected  jour¬ 
 ney  to  Connecticut.  I  came  to  take  my  last  fare¬ 
 well  of  a  parent,  a  father,  dear  to  my  heart,  whom 
 God  has  taken  to  a  better  world.  How  little  did  I 
 anticipate  such  an  event  when  I  left  home  !  But  I 
 can  now  see  the  kind  interposition  of  Providence,  in 
 so  disposing  my  concerns  as  to  make  such  a  journey 
 necessary,  notwithstanding  the  strong  reluctance  I 
 felt  to  undertake  it ;  so  necessary  indeed,  that  I  was 
 compelled  to  surmount  every  obstacle  which  inter¬ 
 fered  with  its  accomplishment.  I  came;  and  had 
 the  satisfaction  of  being  with  my  excellent  father  a 
 few  weeks,  of  enjoying  his  society,  and,  I  hope,  of 
 contributing  to  his  happiness.  I  came  to  behold  him 
 struggle,  for  nearly  five  days,  in  an  unequal  and  dis¬ 
 tressing  conflict  with  a  fatal  sickness,  and  then,  at 
 last,  yield  his  spirit  into  the  hands  of  Him  who  will 
 have  all  his  children  to  be  with  him,  where  he  is, 
 that  they  may  behold  and  participate  in  his  glory. 
 
 And  now,  my  dear  E.  if  you  have  thought  me 
 negligent  in  delaying  to  write,  you  will  think  me  so 
 no  longer.  You  have  lost  a  parent ;  and  I  need  say 
 no  more.  But  I  have,  as  you  had,  precious  conso¬ 
 lations  under  this  solemn  rebuke,  which  have,  in  a 
 great  measure,  sweetened  the  bitterness  of  the  afflic¬ 
 tion.  I  believe  that  one  reason  why  the  loss  of 
 friends,  of  Christian  friends  at  least,  is  sometimes  so 
 insupportable  to  survivors  is,  that  we  are  too  selfish 
 in  our  feelings.  We  are  apt  to  derive  nourishment 
 
156 
 
 for  sorrows,  which  enervate  the  mind,  from  two 
 sources — one,  the  recollection  of  what  we  have  lost ; 
 the  other,  the  remembrance  of  what  our  friend  suf¬ 
 fered.  But  immoderate  grief  on  these  accounts  is 
 sinful ;  for  it  savours  too  much  of  the  spirit  of  that 
 idolatrous  declaration,  “  Ye  have  taken  away  my 
 gods,  and  what  have  I  more  ?” 
 
 My  dear  father  fell  a  victim  to  the  distressing 
 fever  which  has  swept  away,  within  the  last  two  years, 
 so  many  of  our  most  valuable  citizens  and  faithful 
 ministers.  He  preached,  as  usual,  the  Sabbath  be¬ 
 fore  his  death.  His  last  text  was,  66  And  his  rest 
 shall  he  glorious.”  The  next  Friday  he  was,  I  have 
 no  doubt,  admitted  into  the  regions  of  the  blessed, 
 and  made  an  everlasting  partaker  of  the  joys  he  had 
 so  recently  described.  Happy  spirit ! 
 
 Safe  art  thou  lodged  above  these  rolling  spheres, 
 
 The  baleful  influence  of  whose  giddy  dance 
 Sheds  sad  vicissitude  on  all  beneath ! 
 
 And  who  could  wish  thee  again  imprisoned  in  this 
 dark  world,  far  removed  from  God  and  heaven,  and 
 again  subjected  to  the  conflicts,  the  sufferings,  and 
 the  sins  of  this  mortal  state  ? 
 
 But  my  father’s  death  was  a  general  loss.  His  • 
 family  mourn  not  alone.  Many  feel  the  wound  to 
 be  grievous ;  many  mingle  their  tears  with  those  of 
 his  afflicted  relatives,  over  the  remains  of  the  man, 
 the  friend,  the  spiritual  guide,  whose  fervent  prayers, 
 whose  wise  and  benevolent  counsels,  have  ceased  for 
 ever.  Glory  be  to  God,  for  the  precious  promises 
 of  immortality  which  the  gospel  unfolds  !  Glory  be 
 to  God,  that  this  light  of  life  has  smiled  upon  the 
 
157 
 
 darkness  of  the  tomb,  and  taught  the  believer,  that 
 because  Christ  lives  he  shall  live  also.  This  con¬ 
 sideration  whispers,  4<  Peace,  be  still,”  and  turns  the 
 terrors  of  the  last  enemy  into  light,  and  hope,  and  joy. 
 Pray  for  me,  my  dear  friend,  that  this  afflictive,  but 
 righteous,  providence  may  be  sanctified;  that  I  may 
 be  made  by  it  a  partaker  of  God’s  holiness.  A  par¬ 
 taker  of  God’s  holiness  ?  Glorious  thought !  What 
 a  wonderful  view  it  affords  of  the  love  of  God,  that 
 he  should  afflict  us  to  make  us  partakers  of  his  holi¬ 
 ness!  Blessed  end  ! 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  BOSTON. 
 
 Killingworth ,  August  5,  1814. 
 
 I  thank  you,  my  dear  H.  for  your  kind  and  ex¬ 
 cellent  letter.  Though  I  needed  not  such  a  proof 
 of  the  continuance  of  your  friendship,  yet  every  to¬ 
 ken  of  affectionate  remembrance  is  peculiarly  gratify¬ 
 ing  in  seasons  of  affliction.  To  be  thought  of,  and 
 prayed  for,  when  we  most  need  prayer,  is  comforting 
 indeed.  And  such  has  been  my  case  in  no  common 
 degree.  Yes,  my  dear  girl,  human  comforters  can 
 do  but  little  toward  alleviating  the  anguish  of  a  heart 
 bleeding  with  a  wound  like  mine,  unless  God  also 
 administer  consolation.  And,  blessed  be  his  name  ! 
 such  consolation  I  think  I  have  in  some  measure  re¬ 
 ceived.  The  stroke  was  no  common  one.  It  swept 
 away  one  of  the  kindest  husbands,  and  one  of  the 
 most  affectionate  and  faithful  fathers,  that  ever  wife 
 or  children  were  blessed  with.  Those  who  knew 
 him  best,  loved  him  most ;  and  all  felt  the  loss  to  be 
 great.  To  his  bereaved  congregation,  especially,  it 
 
158 
 
 seems  to  have  been  a  stroke  which  cannot  now  be 
 estimated,  and  must  long  be  felt. 
 
 But  though  the  dispensation  is  mysterious,  though 
 the  death  of  my  beloved  parent  has  dried  up  for  ever 
 the  principal  source  of  happiness  with  which  I  was 
 favoured  in  this  town,  and,  with  a  few  exceptions, 
 in  this  world ;  yet  I  have  reason  to  bless  God  that  I 
 am  not  conscious  of  ever  having  wished  to  counter¬ 
 act  the  divine  decree.  There  has  been  so  much  of 
 mercy  mingled  in  this  cup  of  sorrow,  that  it  has 
 sweetened  the  bitter  dregs  which  I  have  been  called 
 to  taste. 
 
 Oh,  H. !  there  is  comfort,  great  comfort,  in  the 
 believer’s  latter  end.  Then  the  value  of  the  gospel 
 appears.  What  philosophers  and  wise  men  have 
 shuddered  at,  what  infidels  cannot  usually  behold 
 without  horror,  the  believer  can  meet  with  humble 
 confidence  and  holy  joy.  It  is  the  hope  of  immor¬ 
 tality,  through  faith  in  Jesus,  which  bears  him  tri¬ 
 umphant 
 
 Through  the  gloomy  vale 
 Where  Death  and  all  his  terrors  are. 
 
 Take  away  this  hope,  even  were  he  certain  oi  ex¬ 
 emption  from  suffering,  what  clouds  and  darkness 
 would  settle  in  impenetrable  gloom,  over  the  grave  ! 
 Yes,  the  preciousness  of  those  animating  assurances 
 of  eternal  life,  and  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body, 
 which  are  given  in  the  gospel  of  Christ,  can  never 
 be  so  forcibly  felt  as  when  we  are  about,  either  our¬ 
 selves  to  put  off  the  earthly  house  of  this  tabernacle, 
 or  to  behold  a  dear  friend  bid  a  final  adieu  to  all 
 earthly  scenes.  Well  might  the  Psalmist  say, ii  They 
 
that  trust  in  the  Lord  shall  be  as  Mount  Zion,  which 
 cannot  be  removed,  but  abideth  for  ever.  As  the 
 mountains  are  round  about  Jerusalem,  so  the  Lord  is 
 round  about  his  people  for  ever,”  to  defend,  to  pre¬ 
 serve,  to  cheer  them,  eveil  when  heart  and  flesh  fail 
 them. 
 
 With  the  dead  this  earthly  scene  has  closed  for 
 ever.  They  have  lived,  they  have  died,  they  have 
 passed  into  the  world  of  spirits.  We  can  be  con¬ 
 nected  with  them,  precious  and  dear  as  they  once 
 were,  no  more.  But  what  remains  for  us  ?  Much, 
 very  much.  We  are  to  see  to  it,  that  we  despise 
 not  the  chastening  of  the  Lord,  nor  faint  when  we 
 are  rebuked  of  him.  We  are  to  take  heed  that,  by 
 our  faithful  improvement  of  afflictions,  we  may  have 
 evidence  that  our  tribulation  has  worked  in  us  pa¬ 
 tience,  our  patience  experience,  and  our  experience 
 the  hope  which  maketh  not  ashamed.  It  is  dread¬ 
 ful,  when  God  is  cutting  off  one  creature-comfort 
 after  another,  to  teach  us  that  this  world  is  not  our 
 rest,  to  be  clinging,  with  all  the  energies  of  an  un¬ 
 diminished  attachment,  to  that  very  world,  which  is 
 thus  constantly  breaking  from  our  grasp,  disappoint¬ 
 ing  our  hopes,  and  piercing  us  through  with  many 
 sorrows.  Wretched  delusion !  fearful  case!  for  “he 
 who,  being  often  reproved,  hardeneth  his  neck,  shall 
 suddenly  be  destroyed,  and  that  without  remedy.” 
 Pray  that  this  may  not  be  the  result  with  me.  Pray 
 that,  having  passed  under  the  rod,  I  may  not  be 
 found  incorrigible,  but  more  docile  and  humble,  and 
 devoted  to  God. 
 
 September  2.  At  Boston.  I  was  quite  well  when  1 
 
160 
 
 left  Connecticut,  but  feel,  since  my  return,  much  that 
 appears  wrong  at  my  breast,  and  an  almost  constant 
 pain  in  my  side.  At  times  I  am  almost  discouraged, 
 and  think  these  complaints  will  terminate  in  a  con¬ 
 sumption. 
 
 I  had  hoped  to  diave.  been  spared  to  my  darling 
 children ;  to  have  used  my  humble  exertions  to  guide 
 their  infant  minds  in  the  paths  of  truth  and  holiness; 
 to  have  watched  over  their  early  associations,  and  di¬ 
 rected  those  propensities  which  a  mother  best  under¬ 
 stands,  and  on  the  judicious  management  of  which 
 so  much  of  their  future  usefulness  and  happiness 
 depends.  I  had  hoped  to  have  directed  their  early 
 studies ;  to  have  put  into  their  hands  such  books  as 
 I  know  to  be  useful,  or  accompanied  with  my  own 
 observations  such  as  I  know  to  be  dangerous,  if  they 
 were  greatly  inclined  to  peruse  them.  I  had  hoped 
 to  have  gone  with  them  over  the  instructive  pages 
 of  history;  to  have  drawn  their  minds  from  an  undue 
 regard  to  riches  and  worldly  endowments,  by  point¬ 
 ing  them  to  the  noble  and  virtuous  conduct  of  states¬ 
 men  and  generals  taken  from  the  cottage  and  the 
 plough.  I  had  hoped  to  have  shown  them  that  am¬ 
 bition  is  not  always  successful;  that  pride  is  never 
 productive  of  happiness ;  that  outward  greatness  does 
 not  always  involve  magnanimity.  And,  above  all,  I 
 had  hoped  to  have  shown  them,  from  the  history  of 
 past  ages,  that  the  lusts  and  passions  of  men  produce 
 wars  and  fightings,  turmoil,  and  misery,  and  death ; 
 and  to  have  drawn  them  to  behold  the  difference  ma¬ 
 nifested  in  the  spirit  of  the  gospel  of  Christ,  from 
 this  picture  of  wretchedness  and  sin  ;  and  thus  to 
 have  taught  them  to  cultivate  the  dispositions  which 
 
161 
 
 that  gospel  requires,  and  on  which  the  happiness  of 
 individuals  and  of  society  depends.  O  how  many 
 ways  may  the  mother  seize,  to  teach  the  offspring  of 
 her  love  the  way  of  truth,  which  no  one  else  can  per¬ 
 ceive  ! 
 
 But  what  if  this  office  of  maternal  tenderness,  dear 
 to  my  heart  as  life,  should  be  denied  me  ;  have  I  any 
 complaint  to  make  ?  No,  none.  Is  not  God  able 
 to  take  care  of  my  children  without  me?  Yes,  in¬ 
 finitely  able.  Let  me  not,  then,  be  unreasonably  an¬ 
 xious  how  it  may  be  with  my  poor  body.  God 
 governs ;  infinite  rectitude  is  on  the  throne  of  the 
 universe  ;  and  why  should  I  fear  ?  If  it  is  for  his 
 glory  that  I  should  live,  he  is  able  to  preserve  me ; 
 if  it  is  not,  ought  I  to  desire  it?  Oh  that  I  may 
 ever  stand  in  a  waiting  posture ;  not  looking  upon 
 this  world  as  my  home,  but  desiring  that  all  my  will 
 should  be,  that  the  Lord’s  will  should  be  done  ! 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  September  11,  1814. 
 
 We  have  been  forming  a  Female  Bible  Society 
 here,  upon  the  plan  of  the  one  in  Philadelphia,  and 
 in  consequence  of  letters  received  from  that  Society. 
 What  an  honour  for  us  to  be  permitted  to  be  co¬ 
 workers  with  God  in  spreading  that  gospel  which 
 bringeth  glad  tidings  of  great  joy  to  this  miserable 
 world  !  And  those  women,  whose  whole  attention  is 
 not  necessarily  devoted  to  their  families,  ought  to  em¬ 
 brace  such  opportunities  of  usefulness  with  joy.  How 
 much  do  our  sex  owe  to  the  gospel !  And  should 
 we  not  testify  our  thankfulness,  by  extending  its 
 
162 
 
 blessings  to  those  who  are  strangers  to  them  ?  Were 
 we  faithful  to  redeem  the  time,  we  might  all  do 
 much  more  than  we  do  for  the  promotion  of  the 
 kingdom  of  Christ.  And  is  not  the  object  worthy 
 of  such  an  effort  ? 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  A. 
 
 Boston ,  September  15,  1814. 
 
 I  always  find  that  I  am  in  a  better  frame  of  mind 
 when  my  earthly  gourds  are  blighted.  I  do  not  pray 
 for  afflictions ;  that  would  be  impious  presumption  in 
 a  worm  like  me.  But  I  think  God  has  graciously 
 led  me  to  see,  that  they  may  be  profitable,  that  they 
 may  even  be  pleasant,  when  he  sees  fit  to  send  them. 
 I  never  was  so  happy  as  when  the  fatherly  correc¬ 
 tion  of  God  has  shown  me  that  this  is  not  my  rest, 
 and  my  soul  has  relied  in  faith  and  hope,  solely  on 
 the  faithfulness  and  grace  of  God  through  his  dear 
 Son ;  when,  though  my  earthly  comforts  were  cut  off, 
 I  felt  willing  it  should  be  so,  and  could  repose  in  the 
 precious  belief  that  a  Being  of  infinite  wisdom  and 
 goodness  governs  and  guides  the  concerns  of  the 
 universe.  The  joy  thus  produced  is  an  unmingled 
 joy  ;  it  is  joy  in  God,  while  self  dwindles  into  its  na¬ 
 tive  nothingness. 
 
 I  am  happy  to  learn  of  your  welfare,  and  of  your 
 comfortable  situation.  I  trust  that  the  people  of  A. 
 have  received  you  as  a  rich  gift  from  the  great  Head 
 of  the  church,  and  that,  as  such,  you  will  be  faithful 
 to  them.  I  also  hope  that  you  are  given  to  your  hus¬ 
 band,  to  be  a  help  to  him  in  his  arduous  calling  as  an 
 ambassador  for  Christ.  And  a  great  many  ways  are 
 
163 
 
 there,  my  dear  friend,  which  God  has  afforded  you 
 now  of  doing  good  all  the  days  of  your  life.  May 
 the  Father  of  mercies  make  you  mutual  helpers  in 
 this  vale  of  tears ;  that  so  your  mutual  burdens  may 
 be  lightened,  and  your  mutual  joys  and  your  indi¬ 
 vidual  usefulness  increased,  and  your  reward  in  hea¬ 
 ven  be  rendered  more  glorious. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  N.  H. 
 
 Boston ,  October  8,  1814. 
 
 As  to  those  time-consuming  parties,  which  dis¬ 
 arrange  a  family  for  a  week  before  to  prepare  for  them, 
 and  for  a  week  after  to  compose  those  affairs  which 
 have  been  put  out  of  place,  I  scarcely  know,  from 
 experience  and  personal  observation,  any  thing  about 
 them.  My  early  habits  of  country  simplicity  are  so 
 thoroughly  interwoven  with  my  constitution,  that  it 
 would  distress  me  greatly  to  go  very  much  out  of  my 
 accustomed  way.  Indeed,  dear  S.  when  we  consider 
 time  as  a  talent  which  God  has  given  us,  to  use  for 
 purposes  which  have  for  their  object  his  glory,  and 
 the  good  of  our  fellow-creatures,  is  it  not  melancholy 
 to  think  how  much  of  it  is  irrecoverably  lost  ?  I 
 have  often  thought  how  eagerly  a  dying  unconverted 
 sinner  would  long  for  one  day,  for  one  hour,  to  re¬ 
 pent  and  seek  for  pardon.  And  yet  how  little  is 
 the  abuse  of  time  regarded  !  How  many  squander  a 
 whole  life  away,  and  find,  at  the  close  of  it,  that  they 
 have  made  no  use  of  time,  but  to  accumulate  to  them¬ 
 selves  greater  misery  for  ever,  by  a  remembrance  of 
 the  waste ! 
 
164 
 
 November  1.  I  feel  an  intense  desire  to  put  on 
 Christ  more  uniformly,  in  my  life  and  conversation. 
 All  that  is  past  looks  dark  and  unprofitable.  My 
 best  duties  have  all  been  stained  with  sin.  I  should 
 despair,  but  for  the  blood  of  Christ,  which  cleanseth 
 from  all  sin  !  Precious  truth  !  How,  like  a  healing- 
 balm,  it  mitigates  the  agonies  of  a  conscience  which 
 tells  me  that  all  has  been  wrong !  44  The  blood  of 
 
 Christ !”  sweet,  soothing  sound  !  Here  is  hope  for 
 despair;  here  is  joy  for  misery. 
 
 5.  The  smoothest  course  of  nature  has  its  ills; 
 
 And  truest  friends,  through  error,  wound  our  rest. 
 
 How  true  is  this  !  And  what  pains  are  so  keen  as 
 those  inflicted  by  a  friend  ?  But  it  is  fit  that  these 
 miserable  idols,  to  which  we  cling  so  fondly,  should 
 often  be  the  cause  of  our  greatest  trials.  We  read 
 our  sin  in  our  sufferings.  Oh  for  a  broken  heart, 
 that  I  may  mourn  its  deep  declension  from  God,  and 
 the  love  of  the  world,  and  the  pride  of  spirit,  which  I 
 have  to  record  against  myself  to-night ! 
 
 20.  Many,  who  have  no  knowledge  of  the  sub¬ 
 ject  from  experience,  think  that  religion  makes  men 
 gloomy.  I  know  nothing  of  such  religion.  How 
 can  that  which  prepares  us  for  afflictions,  which 
 teaches  us  to  expect  disappointments,  which  lowers 
 our  calculations  and  desires  from  this  world,  which 
 resolves  all  things,  with  sweet  complacency,  into  the 
 will  of  the  all-wise  and  all-merciful  Governor  of  the 
 universe,  which  assures  us  that  Jehovah  is  pledged 
 to  make  all  things  work  together  for  good,  which 
 gives  to  the  soul,  in  this  wilderness,  a  foretaste  of 
 heaven,  and  a  hope,  attested  by  evidence  which  God 
 
165 
 
 himself  has  prescribed,  of  ultimate  admission  to  the 
 joys  of  his  immediate  presence — how  can  such  a 
 principle  make  men  gloomy  !  It  is  impossible.  O 
 yes,  I  can  say,  from  experience,  66  Thou  wilt  keep 
 him  in  perfect  peace  whose  mind  is  stayed  on  thee ; 
 because  he  trusteth  in  thee  !”  So  far  as  I  can  trust 
 in  God,  and  love  his  will,  so  far  I  am  happy.  Oh 
 for  more  continual,  more  perfect  resignation  and 
 confidence  !  I  know  that  what  he  appoints  is  best. 
 May  this  conviction  have  an  abiding  influence  upon 
 my  feelings  and  conduct.  My  soul,  6(  trust  thou  in 
 the  Lord  for  ever ;  for  in  the  Lord  Jehovah  is  ever¬ 
 lasting  strength.” 
 
 December  2.  O  death,  thou  destroyer  of  human 
 hopes  and  of  human  joys  !  when  I  look  around  me, 
 and  behold  the  ravages  which  thou  hast  made  among 
 my  friends,  my  kindred  according  to  the  flesh,  I  am 
 astonished  at  the  strength  of  that  depravity  which 
 leads  me  still  to  cling  to  this  dying  world.  Why, 
 oh  why,  do  I  not  rest  my  weary  soul  on  the  un¬ 
 changeable  realities  of  heaven  !  There  shall  I  meet 
 those  dear  ones  who  sleep  in  Jesus.  Animating 
 hope  !  <fi  Then  let  my  soul  march  boldly  on,”  nor 
 faint  in  the  day  of  rebuke ;  but  sweetly  yield  up  all 
 my  earthly  comforts,  when  Jesus  demands  them,  that 
 I  may  find  my  all  in  him. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  A. 
 
 Boston ,  December  4,  1814. 
 
 You  know  Mrs.  - .  This  day  she  lost  a 
 
 child ;  the  fifth  which  God,  in  his  inscrutable  provi¬ 
 dence,  has  called  her  to  give  up  within  the  last  four 
 
166 
 
 or  five  weeks.  I  have  felt  very  much  for  her.  It 
 appears  to  me  enough  to  rend  asunder  the  cords  of 
 life.  But  we  can  hear  all  things  which  the  Almighty 
 sees  fit  to  inflict,  if  he  strengthens  us.  “  As  thy 
 days,”  he  says  to  the  believer,  “  so  shall  thy  strength 
 
 be.”  And  Mrs. - ,  if  I  am  correctly  informed, 
 
 is  a  witness  for  him  that  his  faithfulness  doth  not 
 fail.  She  behaves,  I  understand,  like  “  a  weaned 
 child,”  under  this  accumulated  rebuke.  Such  a 
 stroke,  it  would  seem,  must  detach  the  soul  that  has 
 received  it  from  this  perishable  world.  And  yet  the 
 privation  of  every  earthly  comfort  will  only  make  men 
 miserable,  unless  almighty  grace  sanctifies  the  rod. 
 How  little  can  mere  human  fortitude  do  in  such  cases ! 
 Let  us  endeavour  to  learn  wisdom  from  this  melan¬ 
 choly  providence. 
 
 Have  you  read  Dugald  Stewart’s  Philosophical 
 Essays.  He  is  generally  esteemed,  I  believe,  one 
 of  the  greatest  men  of  the  present  age ;  and  yet  the 
 loss  of  an  only  son,  it  is  said,  has  almost  made  a 
 wreck  of  those  faculties  which  have  delighted  and 
 astonished  the  world.  Some  merely  carnal  men,  as 
 we  are  compelled  to  believe  them,  do  indeed  endure 
 trials  with  wonderful  composure.  But  I  know  not 
 how  it  is,  unless  they  have  some  idol  left  to  which 
 they  cling  more  closely.  And  perhaps,  as  the  na¬ 
 ture  of  sin  is  to  harden  the  heart,  they  do  not  feel 
 the  wound  so  keenly  as  they  would  if  they  were 
 Christians.  Such  cases  are,  however,  comparatively 
 few;  and  all  experience  testifies,  that  faith  and  hope 
 in  God  through  Christ  constitute  the  only  effectual 
 support  in  trouble. 
 
167 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  P. 
 
 Boston ,  December  15,  1814. 
 
 How  is  it  with  you  now,  my  dear  friend?  It  is 
 to  be  expected,  that  the  two  years  which  have  elapsed 
 since  a  letter  passed  between  us,  have  witnessed 
 some  changes  in  our  affairs  and  in  our  feelings.  I 
 have  experienced  the  rod  of  affliction,  in  the  loss  of 
 dear  friends.  The  first  stroke  was  not  very  near ; 
 the  next  left  me  alone  of  my  father’s  children ;  the 
 last  took  away  the  dear  parent  himself.  You  might 
 properly,  and  your  friendship  for  me  will  lead  you 
 to  ask,  4  And  what  has  been  the  effect  of  these  re¬ 
 peated  visitations  ?’  and  I  ought  to  be  able  to  an¬ 
 swer,  4  Tribulation  has  worked  patience,  and  patience 
 experience,  and  experience  hope.’  But,  my  dear 
 friend,  I  am  a  perverse  scholar,  even  in  the  school 
 of  affliction.  I  too  often  find  that  it  is  only  the  im¬ 
 mediate  pressure  of  trials  that  keeps  me  in  any  thing 
 of  a  suitable  frame.  Like  those  children  who  re¬ 
 turn  to  folly  as  soon  as  the  chastening  hand  of  the 
 parent  is  withdrawn,  I  feel  that  I  have  an  evil  heart, 
 continually  inclining  me  to  depart  from  the  living 
 God.  Yet,  great  as  has  been  my  guilt  in  profiting 
 no  .more  by  the  rod,  I  would  still  humbly  believe 
 that  these  chastisements,  especially  the  last  and 
 greatest,  have  afforded  me  some  comforting  views  of 
 God,  which  have  strengthened  and  animated  me  to  go 
 on  my  way  rejoicing,  some  manifestations  of  the  state 
 of  my  own  soul,  of  the  preciousness  of  the  word, 
 and  of  the  safety  and  sweetness  of  trusting  in  the 
 Lord,  which  I  should  not  otherwise  have  had.  My 
 
168 
 
 dear  friend,  why  is  it  so  difficult  to  confide  in  God, 
 in  relation  to  what  looks  dark  and  doubtful  before 
 us,  when  we  have  so  often  found,  that  he  is  a  very 
 present  help  in  trouble,  and  that  he  does  make  his 
 severest  dispensations  work  for  our  good?  Why 
 can  we  not  cast  all  our  cares  upon  Him  that  careth 
 for  us  ?  It  is  a  great  dishonour  to  our  compassionate 
 God,  to  be  doubting  whether  he  will  sustain  us  in 
 our  extremity,  or  fearing  that  he  will  lay  more  upon 
 us  than  he  will  enable  us  to  bear.  No,  no;  it  can¬ 
 not  be.  Only  let  us  entrust  ourselves,  and  all  our 
 interests,  unreservedly  to  Him  who  loved  us  unto 
 death,  and  we  must  be  safe.  But  ah!  these  vile 
 hearts  !  Faith  struggles,  and  struggles,  and  prevails : 
 and  then  we  have  comfort.  Then  unbelief,  secretly 
 but  successfully,  undermines  our  hopes,  and  we  are 
 in  darkness.  Yet  let  us  not  fear.  God  will,  I  trust, 
 one  day  bruise- Satan  under  our  feet;  and  then,  66  Oh 
 how  pleasant  the  conqueror’s  song  !” 
 
 December  17.  Oh  for  those  sweet  and  precious 
 vi^ws  of  divine  things  which  I  had  when  my  dear 
 father  was  called  from  this  fluctuating  world  !  I  was 
 then  so  comforted,  and  filled  with  peace.  I  cannot 
 express  the  manner  in  which  this  life  was  exhibited 
 to  me.  It  seemed  as  if  I  stood  on  the  outer  verge 
 of  this  world.  My  connection  with  eternity  appeared 
 more  immediate  and  certain  than  that  which  I  had 
 with  time.  My  husband  and  children,  except  one, 
 were  at  a  distance ;  my  dearest  present  friend  had 
 gone  to  the  world  of  spirits ;  and  it  appeared  to  me 
 that  I  could  apply  to  myself,  as  if  addressed  to  me, 
 individually  and  alone,  the  direction,  6C  Arise  and 
 depart,  for  this  is  not  your  rest.”  I  found  that  God 
 
1 69 
 
 was  enough.  I  felt  that  his  will  was  my  will ;  and 
 was  unspeakably  happy.  Self  seemed,  in  some  de¬ 
 gree,  reduced  toward  its  proper  place,  and  I  could 
 say,  God  is  on  the  throne,  what  more  can  I  want  ? 
 I  perceived  and  felt  that  he  governed  uncontrollably, 
 and  my  soul  was  satisfied,  entirely  satisfied.  Oh  for 
 some  such  precious  mercy-drops  upon  my  thirsty 
 spirit  now  ! 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  A. 
 
 Boston ,  January  3,  1815. 
 
 Do  you  find  as  much  leisure  for  public  charities 
 as  you  used  to  do  before  your  marriage?  Young 
 ladies  should  consider  the  talent  which  is  entrusted 
 to  them  of  time,  disencumbered  of  domestic  cares,  as 
 a  precious  deposit,  and  devote  it  faithfully  to  the  ser¬ 
 vice  of  Christ.  They  may  not  have  so  much  influence 
 (though  it  is  far  from  being  always  so)  as  married 
 ladies,  but  they  have  more  time  and  opportunity  for 
 action  in  the  various  fields  of  Christian  benevolence 
 which  it  is  proper  for  females  to  cultivate ;  they  can 
 do  more  for  the  promotion  of  the  various  charities  of 
 the  present  day.  Yet  our  situation,  my  dear  friend, 
 is  not  without  opportunities  for  doing  good.  A  mar¬ 
 ried  lady  can  exert  greater  influence  in  her  own  family 
 than  any  where  else ;  she  may  be  more  useful  there 
 than  she  could  be  any  where  else.  It  is  indeed  in  a 
 silent,  unobserved  way ;  but  not  on  that  account  the 
 less  acceptable  to  God,  or  the  less  beneficial  to  the 
 world.  Besides,  industrious  women  may  redeem 
 much  time  from  their  families  for  more  public  duties. 
 But,  in  saying  what  might  be  done,  I  condemn  myself. 
 
 H  41 
 
170 
 
 I  have  nothing  pleasing  of  a  religious  nature  to 
 communicate.  I  sometimes  think  you  are  much 
 favoured,  to  be  so  quietly  seated  down  in  the  midst 
 of  a  people  where  doctrinal  divisions  are  scarcely 
 known  j  though  I  am  sensible  that  the  greatest  out¬ 
 ward  prosperity  of  Zion  cannot  produce  abiding  com¬ 
 fort  in  that  soul  whose  inward  graces  are  languishing. 
 It  cannot  fail  however,  I  think,  to  give  pain  to  every 
 Christian,  whose  graces  are  not  deplorably  benumbed 
 by  the  absence  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  to  see 
 thousands  weekly  visiting  the  sanctuaries  of  the  Most 
 High,  the  original  use  of  which  was  to  proclaim  to 
 lost  sinners  complete  salvation  through  Him  who  died 
 to  redeem  us  from  the  curse  of  the  law,  without  ever 
 being  informed  by  their  spiritual  watchmen  that  they 
 are  exposed  to  that  curse,  and  in  perishing  need  of 
 that  Saviour  !  Painful  indeed  is  it  to  see  miserable 
 sinners,  in  a  land  of  Sabbaths  and  sanctuaries,  hasten¬ 
 ing  to  eternity,  without  being  informed  that  they  must 
 be  born  again  if  they  would  enter  the  kingdom  of 
 heaven,  that  by  the  deeds  of  the  law  no  flesh  shall 
 be  justified ;  to  see  them  coming  away,  from  the  place 
 professedly  devoted  to  religious  instruction,  ignorant 
 of  God,  of  themselves,  and  of  the  only  way  of  salva¬ 
 tion  ;  resolving,  if  resolving  at  all,  merely  to  be  more 
 moral,  while  the  heart  and  soul  of  true  morality — the 
 motives  from  which  truly  moral  conduct  springs — are 
 entirely  overlooked  !  Am  I  uncharitable  ?  Charity 
 rejoiceth  in  the  truth.  But  is  this  the  truth  of  God  ? 
 Is  the  gospel  of  the  Son  of  God  little  better  than  a 
 system  of  heathen  ethics?  for  if  mere  external  mo¬ 
 rality  is  all  it  requires,  it  is  little  better. 
 
 Yet  those  who  regard  this  as  the  gospel,  tell  us 
 
171 
 
 theie  is  no  essential  difference  between  their  views  of 
 it  and  ours  !  Strange,  passing  strange  !  When  we 
 consider  the  tremendous  realities  of  death,  judgment, 
 and  eternity — when  we  realize  the  awful  import  of 
 that  declaration,  “  He  that  believeth  not  shall  be 
 damned” — when  we  behold  a  person  who  has  never 
 performed  one  sinless  action,  going  into  the  presence 
 of  the  Holy  One  trusting  to  his  morality  for  accept¬ 
 ance — and  remember  that  Christ  alone  is  the  end  of 
 the  law  for  righteousness  to  every  one  that  believeth, 
 and  that  there  is  no  salvation  in  any  other  way, — can 
 we  admit  that  there  is  no  material  difference  between 
 our  views  of  religion,  and  those  to  which  I  have  re¬ 
 ferred  ?  Is  not  the  difference  great,  awfully,  eternally 
 great  ?  If  not,  I  am  blind  indeed. 
 
 But  while  we  feel  and  maintain  the  vast  impor¬ 
 tance  of  the  truth,  and  the  guilt  and  the  danger  of 
 error,  we  must  be  careful  to  avoid,  if  possible,  giving- 
 even  an  occasion  for  the  imputation  of  uncharitable¬ 
 ness.  Those  who  are  zealous  for  the  truth,  and 
 even  those  who  have  experienced  its  renovating 
 power,  sometimes  provoke  this  charge  by  an  acri¬ 
 monious  and  intolerant  spirit.  If  men  once  think 
 we  are  actuated  by  the  spirit  of  party,  farewell  to  the 
 hope  of  doing  them  good.  They  will  give  us  as 
 much  credit  for  a  concern  for  their  happiness,  in  reli¬ 
 gious  as  in  political  disputes,  and  no  more.  cc  Rivers 
 of  waters  run  down  mine  eyes,”  says  the  Psalmist, 
 
 “  because  they  keep  not  thy  law.”  If  the  friends 
 of  evangelical  doctrine  would  plead  their  cause  with 
 such  a  spirit,  they  would  gain  far  more  to  the  .king¬ 
 dom  of  heaven,  than  by  <£  flowing  words  and  swell¬ 
 ing  speech.” 
 
 H  2 
 
172 
 
 January  5.  How  difficult,  how  hopeless  is  the 
 task  of  pleasing  every  body  !  A  fortnight  since  a 
 lady  said  to  me,  with  a  tone  and  manner  which  gave 
 peculiar  emphasis  to  the  words,  66  How  is  it  possible 
 you  can  go  out  so  much,  visit  your  people  so  fre¬ 
 quently,  and  be  engaged  in  so  many  charitable  socie¬ 
 ties,  without  neglecting  your  family  ?”  This  week 
 a  different  imputation  has  been  attached  to  my  con¬ 
 duct.  I  am  censured  for  doing  so  little  in  a  public 
 way,  and  confining  myself  so  much  to  my  family.  I 
 am  accused  of  want  of  interest  in  public  charities  ! 
 because  I  give  to  them  so  little  of  my  time  and  at¬ 
 tention.  Such  different  opinions  are  formed  of  the 
 same  conduct !  But  the  voice  of  wisdom  bids  me 
 cease  from  man,  whose  breath  is  in  his  nostrils,  and 
 study  to  approve  myself  to  God.  As  to  my  con¬ 
 duct,  I  am  very  sensible  that  I  do  little  good  in  the 
 world,  in  comparison  with  what  I  might  do.  But 
 whether  I  could,  with  propriety,  devote  more  time 
 to  the  active  duties  of  public  charities,  I  have  serious 
 doubts.  More  of  the  charity  of  prayer,  to  Him 
 who  can  effectually  ameliorate  the  calamities  of  the 
 world  by  subduing  its  corruptions,  I  might,  I  ought 
 to  bestow.  Alas  !  here  how  far  I  fall  short !  But 
 my  opinion  is,  that  her  own  family  has  the  first 
 claim  to  the  attention  and  active  exertions  of  a  mar¬ 
 ried  lady.  So  much  time  as  can  be  redeemed,  (and 
 she  should  feel  it  her  duty  to  redeem  as  much  as 
 possible,)  from  the  ordering  of  domestic  affairs,  the 
 care  and  culture  of  children,  the  duties  of  personal 
 religion,  the  improvement  of  her  own  mind,  and  the 
 perusal  of  works  from  which  assistance  may  be  de¬ 
 rived  in  the  all-important  business  of  education,  may 
 
173 
 
 be,  and  much  of  it  ought  to  be,  devoted  to  the  duties 
 of  public  charity.* 
 
 I  feel  that  I  do  very  wrong  in  suffering  myself  to 
 be  so  much  affected  by  the  opinions  of  my  fellow- 
 creatures.  A  person  must  form  his  own  rules  of 
 conduct;  and,  having  judiciously  formed,  must  pursue 
 them,  and  not  be  continually  fluctuating  according 
 to  the  sentiments  of  every  one  with  whom  he  happens 
 to  meet.  Oh  that  God  would  give  me  grace  to  re¬ 
 deem  my  time,  so  that  I  may  render  my  account  of 
 it  with  joy ! 
 
 February  2.  I  am  discontented  and  unhappy. 
 The  day  has  been  passed  in  hurry  and  confusion.  I 
 am  always  miserable  when  deprived  of  opportunities 
 for  reflection  and  private  devotion.  I  think  I  can 
 look  forward  with  delight  to  the  moment  when  these 
 worldly  hinderances  will  be  removed  for  ever. 
 
 13.  The  good  news  of  peace  has  just  arrived. 
 Amidst  the  noise  of  bells,  and  guns,  and  acclamations, 
 I  think  my  heart  has  been  ascending  to  God  in  de¬ 
 sires,  that,  having  giving  us  peace  with  the  nation 
 
 *  It  may  be  well  to  state  in  this  place,  that,  at  the  time  of  her 
 death,  Mrs.  Huntington  was  a  life  member  of  the  Female  Orphan 
 Asylum,  and  of  the  Fragment  Society;  a  life  member  and  the 
 Vice-President  of  the  Graham  Society;  a  life  member,  and  a 
 Director  of  the  Corban  Society,  and  of  the  Female  Society  of 
 Boston  and  Vicinity  for  promoting  Christianity  among  the  Jews  ; 
 a  life  member,  and  the  Corresponding  Secretary,  and  one  of  the 
 visiting  and  distributing  Committee,  of  the  Female  Bible  Society 
 of  Boston  and  Vicinity ;  an  annual  subscriber  to  the  Widow’s  So¬ 
 ciety,  and  to  the  Boston  Female  Education  Society ;  an  annual 
 subscriber  to,  and  the  Vice-President  of,  the  Old  South  Charity 
 School  Society;  an  annual  subscriber  to,  and  a  Director  of,  the 
 Boston  Female  Tract  Society ;  and  a  member  of  the  Boston  Ma¬ 
 ternal  Association. 
 
174 
 
 with  whom  we  have  been  contending,  he  would  not 
 suffer  us  to  be  at  enmity  with  himself.  I  think  my 
 earnest  longings  have  been  excited,  that,  as  a  people, 
 we  may  be  induced  to  make  peace  with  heaven,  and 
 to  listen  to  the  heralds  of  divine  mercy  more  joyfully 
 than  to  any  mere  human  overtures  of  reconciliation, 
 however  desirable.  Oh  that,  as  a  people,  we  might 
 be  the  friends  of  God  ! 
 
 17.  I  feel  to-night  something  of  that  distressing 
 nervous  depression,  which  my  God  has  so  graciously 
 prevented  for  a  long  time, — a  natural  infirmity  which, 
 but  for  his  upholding  grace,  would,  before  this  time, 
 have  destroyed  me  !  Blessed  be  his  name  that  I 
 have,  for  several  months,  been  almost  uniformly 
 cheerful,  and  enjoyed  great  mental  composure  !  But 
 oh,  should  he  leave  me — a  reed  shaken  with  the  wind 
 — what  should  I  do  ! 
 
 I,  of  all  creatures  in  the  universe,  should  be  hum¬ 
 ble,  should  be  pitiful ;  for  I  am  the  weakest  of  the 
 weak.  I  do  not  know  any  extreme  of  dejection  to 
 which  I  might  not  sink.  But  God  holds  me  up, 
 and  I  am  safe.  Dear  Lord,  let  me  66  never  stray 
 from  the  shadow  of  thy  wing !”  let  me  never  he  so 
 infatuated  as  to  lean  on  any  arm  but  Thine,  or  trust 
 in  any  other  refuge  but  Thee  ! 
 
 Give  what  Thou  wilt,  without  Thee  I  am  poor, 
 
 And  with  Thee  rich,  take  what  thou  wilt  away. 
 
 20.  How  precious  is  a  throne  of  grace  !  There, 
 when  I  approach  it  in  humble  faith,  I  find  a  relief 
 from  every  burden.  I  feel,  I  trust,  an  ardent  desire 
 to  be  made  more  useful  in  my  visits  to  our  dear  people ; 
 
175 
 
 to  manifest,  when  among  them,  more  of  the  spirit  of 
 Christ;  to  have  my  speech,  when  conversing  with 
 them,  always  with  grace,  seasoned  with  salt,  that  it 
 may  contribute  to  their  edification.  Oh  that  the 
 precious  interests  of  their  souls  may  lie  nearer  my 
 heart,  and  oftener  urge  me  to  God  in  their  behalf! 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  A. 
 
 Boston ,  March  26,  1815. 
 
 I  have  not  heard  from  you  since  the  return  of 
 peace,  an  event  which,  for  several  days,  clothed 
 almost  every  face  with  a  smile.  It  is  indeed  a  joyful 
 event.  And  yet  one  cannot  help  being  concerned 
 at  the  apparent  selfishness  of  the  joy  manifested  by 
 most  on  this  occasion.  Few  appear  to  regard  it  in 
 any  other  light,  than  as  it  affects  the  price  of  goods, 
 or  the  advantages  for  trade,  or  for  the  indulgence  of 
 luxury.  Few,  alas  !  appear  to  recognize  God  as  the 
 author  of  the  blessing,  and  their  consequent  obliga¬ 
 tions  to  him. 
 
 But  let  me  not  dwell  upon  the  dispositions  and 
 view  of  others,  while  I  have  so  much  greater  need 
 to  examine  my  own.  My  dear  friend,  it  is  we,  pro¬ 
 fessors  of  religion,  Christians  as  we  hope,  whose  in¬ 
 gratitude  is  the  most  provoking  to  God.  National 
 judgments,  in  my  view,  are  especially  sent  for  the 
 profiting  and  purifying  of  Christians.  Impenitence 
 under  them,  and  ingratitude  upon  their  removal,  are 
 to  be  expected  from  those  who  are,  under  every 
 dispensation,  treasuring  up  wrath  against  the  day  of 
 wrath.  But  that  God  should  behold  his  own  chil- 
 
1?6 
 
 dren  as  stupid  and  carnal,  as  vain  and  worldly,  after 
 such  judgments  as  before — oh  !  this  is  criminal,  is 
 alarming  indeed  !  If,  as  all  experience  testifies,  there 
 is  great  danger  of  this  being  the  case  with  Christians, 
 then  there  is  great  need  of  their  praying  constantly 
 and  fervently  for  each  other.  We  should  seldom 
 pray  for  ourselves  without  remembering  all  those  who 
 love  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  every  where.  W ere  pro¬ 
 fessors  of  religion  more  faithful  in  performing  this 
 duty,  we  should  not  see  so  many  who,  in  a  spiritual 
 sense,  can  scarcely  be  said  to  live  at  all.  We  should 
 find  them  engaged  for  God ;  conformed,  much  more 
 than  they  are,  to  his  likeness  ;  and,  by  their  holy  ex¬ 
 ample  and  fervent  prayers,  constraining  many  others 
 also  to  glorify  their  Father  in  heaven.  Our  churches 
 would  soon  be  purified  from  pernicious  errors,  and  the 
 fruits  of  our  religion  would  manifest  it  to  be  of  God. 
 
 Our  Bible  Society  (Female)  succeeds  very  well, 
 and  is  doing  much  good.  I  suppose  you  have  seen 
 the  New  Jersey  and  New  York  Reports  for  1815. 
 The  latter  is  very  interesting.  Three  Siberian 
 princes  are  earnestly  desirous  of  obtaining  the  Scrip¬ 
 tures  for  general  circulation  among  their  people,  hav¬ 
 ing  been  convinced  by  experience  of  their  salutary 
 influence;  and  have  applied  to  the  Russian  Bible 
 Society  for  a  supply.  The  dawning  of  the  millen¬ 
 nial  day  really  seems  to  have  come.  Let  us  pray 
 fervently,  that  we  may  behold  stronger  and  stronger 
 beams  of  light,  till  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  shall 
 arise  upon  all  lands,  and  illuminate  all  hearts. 
 
177 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  March  27,  1815. 
 
 A  Female  Society  has  just  been  formed  here,  for 
 the  liberal  education  of  such  indigent  pious  young 
 men,  of  good  capacity,  as  manifest  a  strong  desire  to 
 preach  the  gospel;  and  it  is  confidently  expected 
 the  gentlemen  will  take  up  the  business  on  a  large 
 scale.  Such  societies  are  comparatively  new,  but, 
 you  will  at  once  perceive,  of  great  importance.  They 
 ought,  I  think,  to  be  instituted  throughout  Christen¬ 
 dom,  for  the  evidence  is  every  day  accumulating  of 
 the  fact,  that  the  harvest  is  great,  but  the  labourers 
 are  few.  In  what  way  will  so  great  an  amount  of 
 good  be  likely  to  be  accomplished,  as  by  raising  up 
 faithful  ministers  ?  I  hope  females  will  more  gene¬ 
 rally  and  deeply  feel  their  unspeakable  obligations 
 to  the  religion  of  Christ,  and  make  greater  exertions 
 for  its  extension  in  the  world.  They  can  do  much, 
 very  much,  in  various  ways;  and  surely  they  are 
 bound  to  do  all  they  can.  Christians  of  both  sexes 
 will  see  and  feel  the  necessity  of  making  far,  far 
 greater  exertions  in  every  way,  than  they  have  yet 
 made,  for  the  spread  of  the  gospel,  before  the  mil¬ 
 lennial  glory  of  the  church  is  attained. 
 
 April  4.  This  subject  of  education  is  one  that 
 lies  nearer  my  heart  than  any  other  merely  temporal 
 concern.  It  is  easy  to  speculate  about  it,  and  to 
 prescribe  rules  to  others.  It  is  easy  to  form  a  cor¬ 
 rect  and  most  judicious  system ;  and  to  say,  with 
 Foster’s  man  of  indecision,  66  This  is  a  good  plan,  a 
 
 H  S 
 
178 
 
 plan  which  would  be  very  useful  in  its  results, ”  and, 
 after  all,  make  shipwreck  of  the  disposition  and  minds 
 of  our  children  by  mismanagement.  All  this  is  easy, 
 for  the  same  reason  that  it  is  easy  to  acquire  correct 
 opinions  on  any  subject.  But  acting,  practice — 
 here,  here  is  the  difficulty.  The  truth  is,  no  one 
 can  govern  a  family  of  children  well  without  much 
 reflection,  and  what  the  world  calls  trouble.  There 
 must  be  an  accurate  judgment  formed  respecting  the 
 character  of  each  child,  and  a  regular  and  consistent 
 method,  adapted  to  each,  pursued.  And,  what  is 
 more  difficult  still,  the  parent  must  uniformly  govern 
 herself.  This,  certainly,  is  not  easy ;  it  calls  for  the 
 unremitted  exertion  of  several  most  eminent  and  rare 
 Christian  graces. 
 
 It  appears  to  me  that  three  simple  rules,  steadily 
 observed  from  the  very  germ  of  active  existence, 
 would  make  children’s  tempers  much  more  amiable 
 than  we  generally  see  them.  First ,  Never  to  give 
 them  any  thing  improper  for  them  because  they 
 strongly  and  passionately  desire  it ;  and  even  to  with¬ 
 hold  proper  things,  until  they  manifest  a  right  spirit. 
 Second ,  Always  to  gratify  every  reasonable  desire, 
 when  a  child  is  pleasant  in  its  request ;  that  your 
 children  may  see  that  you  love  to  make  them  happy. 
 Third ,  Never  to  become  impatient  and  fretful  your¬ 
 self,  but  proportion  your  displeasure  exactly  to  the 
 offence.  If  parents  become  angry,  and  speak  loud 
 and  harsh,  upon  every  slight  failure  of  duty,  they 
 may  bid  a  final  adieu  to  domestic  subordination, 
 unless  the  grace  of  God  interpose  to  snatch  the  little 
 victims  of  severity  from  destruction.  I  feel  confi¬ 
 dent,  from  what  observation  I  have  made,  that  although 
 
179 
 
 more  children  are  injured  by  excessive  indulgence 
 than  by  the  opposite  fault,  yet  the  effects  of  extreme 
 rigour  are  the  most  hopeless.  And  the  reason  is, 
 associations  of  a  disagreeable  nature,  as  some  of  the 
 ablest  philosophers  have  stated,  are  the  strongest. 
 This  may  account  for  the  melancholy  fact,  that  the 
 children  of  some  excellent  people  grow  up  more  stren¬ 
 uously  opposed  to  every  thing  serious  than  others.* 
 They  have  been  driven,  rather  than  led,  to  observe 
 the  forms  and  outward  duties  of  religion;  and  its 
 claims  upon  their  hearts  have  been  too  commonly 
 presented  to  their  minds  in  the  imperative,  and  not 
 in  the  inviting  form. 
 
 For  my  own  part,  I  find  myself  falling  so  far  short, 
 that  I  am  sometimes  overwhelmed  with  the  distress¬ 
 ing  apprehension  of  erring  fatally.  Dear  children  ! 
 I  tremble  for  you,  when  I  reflect  how  dangerous  is 
 the  path  in  which  you  are  to  tread,  and  how  difficult 
 the  task  of  directing  you  in  safety.  Lord  !  I  commit 
 myself,  whom  thou  hast  made  the  guide  of  their  youth, 
 I  commit  their  hearts  and  ways  unto  thee  ! 
 
 *  Such  instances  there  undoubtedly  are;  and  the  parents  of 
 such  children  have  great  cause  for  humiliation  before  God ;  for  if 
 their  Christian  fidelity  had  been  tempered  with  a  little  more  of 
 Christian  wisdom  and  Christian  kindness,  the  result  would  pro¬ 
 bably  have  been  different.  But  cases  of  this  kind  are  by  no  means 
 so  numerous  as  is  commonly  supposed.  The  truth  is,  the  chil¬ 
 dren  of  religious  parents  are  expected  (and  justly  too)  to  be  bet¬ 
 ter  than  others.  Hence  every  instance  of  the  disappointment  of 
 this  expectation  makes  a  strong  impression  on  the  mind  of  an 
 observer,  which  is  extremely  apt  to  lead  him  to  very  erroneous 
 conclusions,  respecting  the  influence  of  the  instructions  and  re¬ 
 straints  of  a  religious  family.  An  impartial  investigation  of  facts 
 will  prove  that  the  maxim,  “  Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should 
 go,  and  when  he  is  old  he  will  not  depart  from  it,”  is  as  true  now 
 as  it  was  in  the  time  of  Solomon. 
 
180 
 
 TO  MRS.  H.  OF  BRIDGEWATER. 
 
 >  Boston ,  April  27,  1815. 
 
 My  letters  are  short,  I  acknowledge ;  and  I  sup¬ 
 pose  you  will  look  incredulous  and  smile  when  I  say, 
 they  are  so,  in  a  great  measure,  from  want  of  time. 
 
 6  What,’  you  will  say,  after  reading  the  preceding 
 sentence,  *  can  possibly  be  the  reason  that  you  are 
 so  hurried?  There  must  be  mismanagement,  or 
 something  of  that  nature.’  Very  well;  I  must  rest 
 satisfied  to  have  you  believe  so,  if  you  will;  and 
 only  reply,  You  know  just  as  much  about  my  nume¬ 
 rous  engagements,  interruptions,  and  hinderances,  as 
 half  the  people  in  the  world  know  of  the  reasons  for 
 the  conduct  of  the  other  half ;  which  conduct,  they, 
 without  mercy  and  without  knowledge,  condemn. 
 
 But  I  am  not  censuring  you.  I  doubt  not  your 
 good  nature  is  ready  to  make  every  apology  for  me, 
 even  though  you  cannot  take  into  view  those  parti¬ 
 cular  circumstances  in  my  situation,  which  present 
 the  most  satisfactory  excuses,  for  all  seeming  negli¬ 
 gences  of  this  sort,  to  my  own  mind.  To  own  the 
 truth,  (and  it  reflects  no  honour  on  either  my  firm¬ 
 ness  or  my  faith,)  I  am,  dear  sister,  sometimes  al¬ 
 most  discouraged.  My  duties  are  so  much  greater 
 than  my  strength,  that  I  feel  entirely  disqualified  for 
 this  station.  I  despise  that  narrow,  selfish  spirit, 
 which,  satisfied  with  the  gratification  of  its  own  de¬ 
 sires,  sits  quietly  down,  and  heeds  not  the  calamities 
 of  a  miserable  world,  a  world  filled  with  brethren 
 who  are  perishing.  No ;  I  am  not  pleading  for 
 opportunity  to  foster  and  indulge  so  dishonourable 
 
181 
 
 a  temper.  But  when  I  see  an  increasing  family  of 
 immortal  souls,  whom  I  have  been  the  instrument 
 of  bringing  into  this  wretched  world,  cast  upon  my 
 care — when  I  think,  that  I  am  to  be  a  principal  in¬ 
 strument  in  forming  their  characters,  and  thus,  in 
 fixing  their  destinies  for  eternity — that  instructions, 
 and  prayers,  and  efforts  must  be  accompanied  with 
 an  example  of  unblemished  purity — that  every  in¬ 
 consistency  in  my  conduct  may  produce  in  their 
 minds  a  false  association,  the  influence  of  which  may 
 be  most  pernicious,  and  the  smallest  deficiency  in 
 the  correction  of  first  errors  produce  a  habit  which 
 may  never  be  counteracted, — I  tremble  !  When  I 
 view  these  things,  contrasted  with  my  weakness,  my 
 blindness,  my  continual  declensions  from  the  straight 
 path,  I  am  overwhelmed.  Add  to  this  the  claims  of 
 a  large  congregation,  those  constant  attentions  at 
 home  and  abroad,  many  of  which  consume  the  time 
 I  want  for  better  things — and  the  weakness  of  my 
 lungs,  which  always  makes  talking  irksome  and  often 
 laborious  and  distressing — consider  all  these  things, 
 and  you  will  see  that  I  have  at  least  some  occasion 
 for  misgivings.  But  I  do  not  complain.  If  my 
 heavenly  Father  strengthen  me,  weak  as  I  am,  all 
 these  things  will  be  easy.  Pray  for  me,  that  I  may 
 have  stronger  faith. 
 
 May  10.  I  always  find  the  weakest  people  the 
 most  ready  to  animadvert  upon  the  actions,  and  judge 
 of  the  conduct  of  others.  They  are  not  disposed 
 to  make  allowances  for  motives  which  they  do  not 
 understand.  I  find  in  myself  a  propensity  to  give 
 my  opinion  with  the  greatest  confidence  upon  those 
 
182 
 
 subjects  with  which  I  uni  least  acquainted.  A 
 thorough  knowledge  of  a  subject  commonly  brings 
 to  view  so  many  manifestations  of  its  parts  and  bear¬ 
 ings,  as  often  to  produce  a  total  alteration  in  its 
 aspect  as  first  presented;  and  if  a  subject  appear  to 
 me,  upon  examination,  in  a  very  different  light  from 
 that  in  which  I  first  viewed  it,  there  may  be  still 
 other  points  which  have  been  overlooked,  that  would 
 give  it  yet  another  appearance  in  my  view. 
 
 As  respects  the  conduct  of  others,  I  have  some¬ 
 times  judged,  and  pronounced  an  unfavourable  deci¬ 
 sion,  when  the  circumstances  of  the  case  have  been 
 such  as  to  prevent  my  ascertaining  whether  there 
 were  or  were  not  good  reasons  for  the  action  I  con¬ 
 demned.  How  very  reprehensible  is  such  a  temper  ! 
 How  it  displeases,  and  even  irritates  me,  when  I  dis¬ 
 cover  it  in  others  !  May  I  be  led,  when  I  see  my 
 actions  called  in  question,  to  abhor  the  spirit  of  cen¬ 
 soriousness  in  myself.  Oh  for  a  meek  and  humble 
 temper,  and  a  heart  satisfied  with  the  approbation  of 
 God,  whether  men  praise  or  blame  ! 
 
 1 6.  Time  is  short,  very  short.  Oh  for  more  of  the 
 temper  indicated  by  that  reply  of  our  Lord,  ii  Wist 
 ye  not  that  I  must  be  about  my  Father’s  business?” 
 Especially  it  seems  important  that  1  should  pray 
 without  ceasing,  because  it  will  soon,  it  may  very  soon, 
 be  too  late  for  me  to  do  any  thing  in  this  way  for  the 
 world  and  for  my  dear  children.  Blessed  be  God  ! 
 I  have  had  much  enlargement  of  late  in  pleading  for 
 the  latter.  I  think  I  can  appeal  to  Him  who  knoweth 
 all  things,  that  I  have  chosen  Jehovah  for  the  por¬ 
 tion  of  my  children  above  every  other  portion.  Hon¬ 
 our,  and  wealth,  and  long  life,  and  all  temporal  bless- 
 
183 
 
 ings,  have  appeared  for  them  as  trifles  and  vanity, 
 compared  with  this.  And  as  I  have  chosen  God  for 
 them  above  riches,  and  as  he  has  promised  to  be  the 
 God  of  the  seed  of  believers,  I  do  feel  great  encour¬ 
 agement  that  he  will  also  choose  them  for  an  inheri- 
 
 O 
 
 tance  for  ever.  I  have  had  strong  desires  of  late, 
 that  if  it  shall  please  God  to  remove  me  from  this 
 world  before  he  take  my  husband  to  himself,  he  will 
 impart  to  him  a  double  portion  of  wisdom,  and  strength, 
 and  fidelity,  and  patience,  in  behalf  of  our  children, 
 that  they  may  not  suffer  by  my  removal.  I  make 
 this  a  special  subject  of  prayer;  but  I  desire  that,  if 
 it  is  for  the  Lord’s  glory,  I  may  be  spared.  And  I 
 bless  his  name  that  he  has,  I  humbly  hope,  given  me 
 a  good  degree  of  willingness  that  this  desire  should 
 not  be  granted  on  any  other  conditions. 
 
 22.  I  have  had  unusual  peace  and  comfort  of 
 mind  of  late.  The  strength  of  the  Lord  is  my  con¬ 
 fidence.  I  am  not  afraid  to  trust  to  it.  I  rest  with 
 calmness  and  joy  upon  the  precious  covenanted  mercy 
 of  God  in  Christ.  I  would  not  exchange  the  hope 
 I  have  of  an  interest  in  that  mercy,  for  all  the  health, 
 and  wealth,  and  accumulated  good  things  the  world 
 can  afford  ! 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  A. 
 
 Boston,  June  14,  1815. 
 
 I  am  reading  the  Memoirs  of  the  Rev.  Samuel 
 Pearce,  compiled  by  Andrew  Fuller.  How  the  life 
 of  such  a  man  shames  and  condemns  that  of  com¬ 
 mon  Christians  !  He  was  pre-eminently  a  holy  man. 
 The  most  striking  feature  of  his  piety  seems  to  have 
 
184 
 
 l)6Gn  eii  annihilation  of  self,  and.  total  absorption  in 
 the  will  of  God.  This  grace  appears  to  me  the  most 
 lovely  of  all  the  admirable  qualities  combined  in  the 
 Christian  character,  and  that  by  which  the  superiority 
 of  his  to  all  other  religions  is  perhaps  the  most  strik¬ 
 ingly  exhibited.  And  is  it  not  also  the  most  rare, 
 and  the  most  difficult  to  be  acquired  ? 
 
 If  we  habitually  felt  properly  submissive  to  our 
 heavenly  Father’s  will,  where  would  be  that  unavail¬ 
 ing  and  harassing  solicitude  about  our  future  tempo¬ 
 ral  circumstances,  which  so  often  interrupts  present 
 enjoyment  ?  where  that  dejected  and  disconcerted 
 spirit  with  which  we  so  often  contemplate  the  deso¬ 
 lation  of  our  earthly  hopes  and  visionary  schemes  ? 
 Instead  of  distressing  ourselves,  and  preventing,  by 
 our  unbelief,  that  good  from  being  communicated  by 
 our  Father  which  he  is  able  to  cause  every  trial  to 
 produce,  we  should,  under  affliction,  meekly  and 
 humbly  wait  for  what  the  Lord  our  God  should 
 judge  best,  and  enjoy  the  comfort  of  such  a  hea¬ 
 venly  frame  in  the  midst  of  sorrow.  How  would 
 such  a  disposition  smooth  the  rugged  path  of  life,  and 
 convert  every  occurrence  of  the  way  into  a  blessing  ! 
 Well,  my  dear  friend,  the  God  we  serve  is  able  and 
 willing  to  give  us  this  precious  grace.  Theie  is  no 
 reason  why  we  should  be  destitute  of  it,  but  that 
 which  springs  from  our  own  unbelief,  which  is  our 
 sin.  Let  us,  then,  have  stronger  confidence  in  God, 
 and  wait  upon  him  for  this  blessing  by  continual 
 prayer,  and  he  will  not  disappoint  our  hope,  but  show 
 us,  by  happy  experience,  that  his  will  is  the  best,  and 
 that  none  of  those  who  trust  in  him  shall  be  desolate. 
 
185 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  C. 
 
 Boston ,  June  30,  1815. 
 
 I  have  thought,  my  dear  friend,  of  your  present 
 situation,  as  respects  religious  privileges,  with  much 
 interest.  You  think  it  unfavourable  to  progress  in 
 the  divine  life.  On  many  accounts  it  is  so,  without 
 doubt.  But  it  is  the  peculiar  excellence  of  our  re¬ 
 ligion,  that  it  enables  its  disciples  to  derive  instruction 
 even  from  those  circumstances  which,  to  human  view;, 
 appear  the  most  adverse.  The  promise  of  God 
 standeth  sure,  that  all  things  shall  work  together 
 for  good  to  them  that  love  him.  And,  my  dear  Mrs. 
 
 - ,  all  our  religious  privileges  can  be  profitable 
 
 only  as  God  blesses  them  to  us ;  and  he  is  infinitely 
 able  to  grant  as  great  a  blessing  without  them.  We 
 may  receive  as  much  religious  improvement  from 
 being  deprived  of  a  means  of  grace  we  had  anticipated 
 with  delight,  as  from  enjoying  it.  In  general,  un¬ 
 doubtedly,  God  affords  the  blessing  in  the  use  of  his 
 established  means ;  but  when  he  sees  an  humble  heart 
 longing  after  the  enjoyment  of  ordinances  of  which 
 it  has  been  deprived  by  his  providence,  he  meets 
 with  such  a  soul,  and  shows  it  that  his  presence  and 
 grace  are  not  confined  to  particular  places  and  cir¬ 
 cumstances.  He  is  the  Sun;  and  all  the  beams  of 
 light  which  illumine  the  Christian’s  heart  in  attend¬ 
 ing  upon  ordinances,  emanate  from  him.  He  is  the 
 Fountain,  from  which  all  that  is  profitable  in  the 
 most  faithful  sermon,  the  most  spiritual  companion, 
 the  most  useful  connexions,  is  derived.  And  to  him 
 may  every  thirsty  soul  repair,  without  the  interven- 
 
186 
 
 tion  of  any  outward  means,  and  receive  an  abundant 
 supply  for  every  want.  What  a  source  of  comfort 
 is  this,  that  nothing  can  shut  out  the  soul  that  longeth 
 after  God  from  communion  with  him  !  Bolts  and 
 bars  may  exclude  the  presence  of  man,  sickness  may 
 prostrate  the  body  and  enfeeble  the  mind,  persecu¬ 
 tion  may  cut  us  off  from  all  those  outward  privileges 
 which  usually  are  the  means  of  sustaining  the  Chris¬ 
 tian’s  hope  and  joy;  but  all  these  combined  cannot 
 shut  out  God  from  the  soul  that  desires  his  presence. 
 te  The  Lord  is  nigh  unto  all  that  call  upon  him,  to 
 all  that  call  upon  him  in  truth.”  So  the  people  of 
 God  may  always  expect  to  find  it,  when,  as  you  are 
 at  present,  deprived,  providentially,  of  the  opportunity 
 of  attending  upon  the  public  means  of  grace.  But 
 if  they  might  attend  upon  those  means,  and  neglect 
 to  do  so,  they  need  not  expect  the  divine  blessing. 
 They  may  attempt  to  seek  God  at  home,  when  they 
 might,  and  ought  to  be  in  the  sanctuary,  but  they 
 will  not  find  him.  While  they  are  thus  slighting 
 his  ordinances,  he  will  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  their  prayer. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  N.  H. 
 
 Boston ,  December  31,  1815. 
 
 This  is  the  last  evening  of  the  year.  My  mind 
 is  very  solemn,  as  I  reflect  that  another  year  of  my 
 life  has  fled  for  ever.  Oh,  S.  what  a  shadow  is  this 
 little  span  which  we  call  Life  !  Miserable  man,  who 
 has  no  hopes  of  a  better!  Well  might  the  wise 
 man  exclaim,  <£  Madness  is  in  the  hearts  of  the  sons 
 of  men  that  do  evil  while  they  live ;  and  after  that, 
 they  go  to  the  dead.”  What  madness  can  equal 
 
187 
 
 his  who,  living  in  such  a  world,  and  seeing  one  after 
 another  prostrated  and  taken  away  by  the  universal 
 destroyer,  can  fondly  fancy  he  may  here  take  his 
 rest;  can  pursue,  with  supreme  devotedness,  the 
 bubbles  and  the  gewgaws  of  time,  and  think  them 
 worth  pursuing;  can  shut  his  eyes  to  the  glories  of 
 heaven  and  the  awful  realities  of  eternity,  to  which 
 his  next  step  may  introduce  him  ! — But  there  is 
 something  even  more  strange  than  this.  The  Chris¬ 
 tian,  he  to  whom  Christ,  and  holiness,  and  heaven, 
 have  been  precious  beyond  what  tongue  can  express, 
 even  he,  can  turn  his  eyes  from  the  glories  of  his 
 pesent  hopes  and  his  future  inheritance,  and  cleave 
 to  the  vanities  of  this  miserable,  dying  world  !  How 
 deep-rooted  and  strong  must  be  that  depravity,  which 
 can  thus  insnare  the  hearts  of  those  whom  Christ  has 
 chosen  out  of  the  world  ! 
 
 June ,  1816.  And  is  it  possible  that  a  whole  year 
 has  taken  its  eternal  flight  since  I  last  wrote  in  my 
 journal !  What  then  is  life,  composed  as  it  is  of  a 
 few  such  fleeting,  evanescent  periods  ? — 66  a  vapour, 
 which  appeareth  for  a  little  time,  and  then  vanisheth 
 away !”  Oh  my  God !  what  have  I  done  for  thee 
 in  this  space  of  time  ?  This  book  testifies  against 
 me,  that  I  have  done  but  little,  almost  nothing ;  for 
 it  brings  to  my  mind  mercies  received,  mercies  ido¬ 
 lized,  mercies  forgotten;  opportunities  for  doing  good 
 neglected,  judgments  slighted,  privileges  abused;  it 
 upbraids  me  with  having  been,  in  a  measure,  dead 
 while  I  lived  !  Were  it  not  for  the  infinite  mercy 
 of  God  in  Christ,  I  must,  even  now,  lie  down  in 
 
» 
 
 188 
 
 shame,  and  have  confusion  for  my  everlasting  por¬ 
 tion.  The  last  year  I  have  had  good  health,  but  a 
 lean  soul.  I  tremble  at  my  unprofitableness.  What 
 account  can  I  give  of  my  time?  Waste,  waste, 
 waste  !  Oh,  my  injured  Father  !  I  cannot  look  up 
 in  thy  presence.  I  am  condemned,  justly  condemned, 
 before  thee  !  I  see  how  richly  I  have  deserved  the 
 heavy  stroke  which  God  appears  to  be  about  to  inflict 
 upon  me,  in  the  person  of  my  youngest  child.  Oh 
 for  grace  not  to  misimprove  my  chastisements,  as  I 
 have  the  many  mercies  of  my  heavenly  Father  ! 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  July  3,  1816. 
 
 Our  dear  little  Elizabeth  is  quite  unwell.  She 
 frequently  has  slight  convulsion-fits ;  sometimes  two 
 in  a  day,  at  other  times  none  for  several  days. 
 They  do  not  generally  last  more  than  half  a  minute. 
 They  originate,  I  fear,  in  a  diseased  state  of  the 
 head.  I  kept  the  dear  babe  at  home  till  she  was 
 three  months  old;  at  the  expiration  of  which  period 
 my  friends  well  remember  my  remarking,  that  she 
 was  the  strongest  and  most  forward  child  I  ever  had. 
 She  was  then  put  out  to  nurse,  and  appeared  very 
 lively  and  well  for  some  time.  She  grew  fleshy,  and 
 appeared  sober,  and  not  inclined  to  play.  But,  as 
 this  was  the  case  with  my  oldest,  I  was  not  alarmed 
 about  it.  At  nine  months  old  she  still  manifested 
 this  uncommon  soberness,  and  could  not  sit  alone, 
 though  she  appeared  to  stand  strong.  I  became 
 uneasy.  My  physician  insisted  that  the  child  was 
 
189 
 
 doing  perfectly  well,  and  advised  me  to  keep  her  out 
 all  summer.  When  she  had  stayed  a  month  longer 
 I  determined  to  take  her  home.  It  was,  I  found, 
 with  difficulty  I  could  make  her  smile;  and  unless 
 handled  with  the  utmost  gentleness,  she  would  scream 
 as  if  she  were  hurt.  Now  she  occasionally  laughs, 
 but  cannot  sit  alone,  and  does  not  hold  any  thing  in 
 her  hand,  though  she  is  a  year  old.  Her  counte¬ 
 nance  is  intelligent,  but  sorrowful.  She  sighs,  in¬ 
 clines  to  keep  her  fingers  clenched,  and  puts  her 
 hand  to  her  head  hundreds  of  times  in  a  day.  She 
 cannot  now  bear  her  weight  ten  minutes,  without 
 reddening  in  her  little  face  with  fatigue,  and  sinking 
 down  into  the  lap.  What  is  to  be  done  for  her  I 
 know  not.  The  physician  still  encourages  me  to 
 hope  that  it  is  nothing  serious,  or  that  it  will  be  last¬ 
 ing;  but  I  fear  he  is  mistaken.  No  sacrifices,  no 
 privations,  would  be  any  thing  to  us,  if  this  precious 
 child  could  be  saved.  Oh  that  God  would  direct 
 us  !  But  I  can  only  lay  my  hand  upon  my  mouth, 
 and  say,  cc  Father !  not  as  I  will,  but  as  thou  wilt.” 
 Distressing  as  is  the  thought  that  a  darling  child  is 
 in  danger  of  death,  or  of  losing  its  reason,  (to  which 
 such  affections  as  Elizabeth’s,  if  I  am  not  mistaken, 
 directly  tend,)  I  must  be  still;  for  God  is  a  rock, 
 and  his  work  and  his  will  are  perfect.  Pray  for  us, 
 dear  E.  that  the  circumstances  of  this  dear  babe, 
 whether  of  life  or  death,  may  be  ordered  in  infinite 
 compassion,  and  that  we  may  be  prepared  for,  sup¬ 
 ported  under,  and  sanctified  by,  whatever  God  has 
 in  store  for  us.  I  do  feel,  at  times,  that,  as  a  father 
 pitieth  his  children,  so  my  heavenly  Parent  pities 
 me,  under  the  sorrows  which  my  sins  have  compelled 
 
190 
 
 him,  in  faithfulness  and  love,  to  inflict  upon  me. 
 <4  It  is  the  Lord,  let  him  do  what  seemeth  to  him 
 
 good.” 
 
 o 
 
 September .  What  a  poor  vehicle  is  language  to 
 convey  an  idea  of  the  realities  of  religious  experi¬ 
 ence  !  When  God  presents  a  view  of  heavenly 
 things  to  the  mind  of  the  believer,  he  can  only  say, 
 with  the  apostle,  44  It  is  unspeakable.”  But  this  I 
 can,  and  must  say,  God  is  faithful.  Here  let  me 
 record  it  as  a  perpetual  remembrancer  for  the  time  to 
 come,  God  is  faithful.  His  everlasting  arms  are 
 abundantly  adequate  to  the  support  of  his  children, 
 however  tried,  however  afflicted.  Who  can  feel  the 
 import  of  that  blessed  truth,  44  In  all  things  we  are 
 more  than  conquerors  through  him  that  loved  us,” 
 but  those  who  have  been  taught  of  the  Spirit  ?  I 
 have  been  led  in  triumph  through  trials  I  should 
 have  deemed  insupportable ;  but  not  by  my  own 
 strength.  Ah  !  I  am  weak  as  the  worm  crushed 
 by  the  foot  of  a  child.  But  I  have  been  enabled  to 
 feel  that  the  strength  of  God  was  mine,  to  go  out  of 
 myself,  and  lean  entirely  upon  the  omnipotent  One. 
 I  am  now  standing  and  admiring  the  goodness  and 
 grace  which  turned  my  night  into  noon-day.  But 
 I  am  looking  back  upon  a  glory  which  has  gone  by. 
 I  am  supported  and  resigned;  but  my  meridian  sun 
 is  beclouded.  Sin  has  led  me,  in  some  measure, 
 away  from  God  the  fountain  of  my  joy ;  and  unbe¬ 
 lief  and  solicitude  have  entered  my  mind.  Oh  my 
 soul !  return  again  unto  thy  rest. 
 
191 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  A. 
 
 Boston ,  December  20,  1816. 
 
 Once  more  has  my  gracious  Benefactor  appeared 
 for  me,  one  of  the  most  unworthy  of  his  creatures, 
 and  put  the  song  of  salvation  and  praise  into  my 
 mouth.  I  can  scarcely  forbear  weeping  as  I  write, 
 at  the  remembrance  of  the  mercies,  the  accumulated 
 mercies,  I  have  experienced,  as  contrasted  with  my 
 own  criminal  negligence  in  the  service  of  the  best  of 
 masters.  Oh  “  to  grace  how  great  a  debtor  !”  I 
 trust  this  will  be  my  delightful  song  through  eternity. 
 The  past  summer  has  been  marked  with  peculiar 
 trials,  and  equally  peculiar  mercies.  Early  in  the 
 spring  I  beheld  in  my  beloved  Elizabeth  the  seeds 
 of  disease ;  disease  which  I  now  believe  must  termi¬ 
 nate  in  death,  and  which  affects  a  part  beyond  the 
 power  of  medical  skill  to  reach,  the  brain.  For  a 
 fortnight  I  felt  a  distress  which  cannot  be  described. 
 But  He  who  has  never,  never  left  me  in  the  season 
 of  trial,  appeared,  and  turned  the  darkness  of  night 
 into  the  light  of  noon-day.  I  gave  her  up  to  him, 
 and  found  it  better  to  trust  in  the  Lord  than  to  put 
 confidence  in  man.  O  how  were  his  everlasting 
 arms  put  underneath  and  around  me,  and  how  ade¬ 
 quate  did  I  find  them  for  my  support !  Never  did 
 I  have  so  much  spiritual  enjoyment  before.  I  did 
 realize  that  “  the  sufferings  of  this  present  time  are 
 not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  which 
 shall  be  revealed.”  I  looked  forward  to  the  trial 
 through  which  I  have  lately  been  conducted  in  safety, 
 
192 
 
 with  a  deep  impression  of  the  uncertainty  of  its  issue. 
 But  I  felt  a  strong  confidence  that  heaven  was  my 
 happy,  happy  home,  which  I  might  soon  reach,  and 
 which  appeared  more  lovely  than  language  can  ex¬ 
 press.  Thus,  my  dear  friend,  can  the  blessed  God 
 sweeten  the  cup  of  sorrow  which  he  puts  into  the 
 hands  of  his  children.  Oh  it  is  good  to  be  in  his 
 hands,  to  have  no  will  but  his  ! 
 
 The  dear  child,  I  think,  very  gradually  declines. 
 Whether  this  complaint  will  terminate  in  death,  or 
 the  total  absence  of  reason,  and  how  soon,  God  only 
 knows.  I  feel  a  strong  assurance  that,  whether 
 she  live  or  die,  she  is  the  Lord’s.  And  what  is 
 the  chaff  to  the  wheat,  the  body  to  the  soul?  May 
 I  be  living  as  if  this  world  were  not,  as  in  fact  it  is 
 not,  my  home.  May  you  and  I,  and  all  our  dear 
 friends,  by  our  enjoyments  and  our  sufferings,  be 
 prepared  for  that  blessed  place,  where  the  inhabi¬ 
 tants  shall  no  more  say,  6  I  am  sick where  all 
 tears  shall  be  wiped  away ;  where  sin  shall  be  de¬ 
 stroyed,  and  the  saint  be  imbibing  more  and  more, 
 through  eternity,  the  image  of  Him  who  is  per¬ 
 fect. 
 
 You  inquired  what  is  my  method  with  my  chil¬ 
 dren  at  prayers,  &c.  I  am  ashamed  that  you  should 
 ask  advice  of  me,  who  need  counsel  so  much  myself. 
 But  if  I  can  suggest  to  you  any  new  thoughts,  I 
 shall  be  very  glad,  and  expect  the  same  friendly 
 office  from  you  in  return.  I  begin  to  have  my  chil¬ 
 dren  in  the  room  at  prayers  within  the  month  after 
 their  birth ;  and  they  always  continue  to  be  present, 
 unless  they  are  sick,  or  are  excluded  the  privilege 
 
193 
 
 as  a  punishment  for  having  been  very  naughty.  It 
 is  difficult,  when  they  are  quite  young,  to  keep  them 
 perfectly  still.  But  the  habit  of  thinking  they  are 
 too  young  to  be  present  at  family  devotion,  is  a  bad 
 one.  And  besides,  if  they  do  not  come  in,  some 
 one  is  obliged  to  remain  out  with  them,  and  is  thus 
 deprived  of  a  precious  privilege,  and  an  important 
 means  of  grace.  After  they  get  to  be  two  years,  or 
 more,  old,  and  are  able  to  understand  the  meaning 
 of  your  conduct,  if  they  play,  or  in  any  other  way 
 make  a  disturbance,  they  may  be  taken  out  and  com¬ 
 pelled  to  remain  by  themselves  till  the  service  is  over ; 
 which  will  generally  be  felt  by  them  to  be  so  great  a 
 punishment,  that  they  will  not  soon  commit  a  similar 
 offence.  I  would  not  do  this,  however,  on  every 
 slight  deviation  from  perfect  order,  as  children  cannot 
 he  expected  to  conduct  themselves  like  men. 
 
 As  to  government,  I  have  always  made  it  a  rule 
 never  to  give  a  child  what  it  is  passionately  earnest 
 to  have,  however  proper  the  object  may  be  in  itself; 
 because  otherwise  an  association  would  immediately 
 be  formed  in  the  mind  between  importunity  and 
 success.  Were  a  child  always  tokl  when  lie  cries 
 for  a  thing,  “  You  shall  have  it  when  you  show  a 
 proper  temper,”  it  would  soon  teach  him  to  he  rea¬ 
 sonable.  I  think  it  the  destruction  of  government 
 to  be  capricious,  to  refuse  one  day  what,  in  circum¬ 
 stances  not  seen  by  the  child  to  be  different,  is 
 granted  on  another;  to  let  fretting  and  teasing  carry 
 a  point  at  one  time,  when  at  another  they  would 
 bring  punishment.  Children  very  soon  see  whether 
 we  are  consistent;  and  little  deviations  from  an  es- 
 
 I  41 
 
194 
 
 tablished  rule,  afford  great  encouragement  for  the 
 next  time.  These  little  deviations  do  great  mischief, 
 and  are  often  slidden  into  very  imperceptibly  by  the 
 parent,  though  the  child  is  quick-sighted  enough  to 
 observe  them. 
 
 One  thing,  my  dear  friend,  I  think  of  the  great¬ 
 est  importance,  and  that  is,  that  children  be  made 
 always  to  mind,  and  consider  the  parent’s  word  as 
 their  law.  Giving  up  once  after  a  command  has 
 passed,  may  lay  the  foundation,  and  lead  to  the 
 establishment,  of  a  principle  of  insubordination,  as 
 troublesome  as  unconquerable.  For  this  reason, 
 absolute  commands  should  be  as  few  as  possible.  I 
 also  think  it  dangerous  to  play  with  children  in  the 
 way  of  command,  saying,  “  Do  this  or  that,”  when 
 you  do  not  mean  that  the  thing  must  be  done.  It 
 weakens  parental  authority.  I  never  like  to  tell 
 very  small  children  to  kiss  strangers,  as  they  often 
 feel  a  degree  of  backwardness  very  difficult  to  over¬ 
 come  ;  and  if  they  refuse,  it  is  necessary  to  pass  it 
 over  without  compelling  obedience,  which  should  not 
 be,  or  to  have  a  combat  with  them  before  the  com¬ 
 pany,  which  hardens  them  to  reproof.  It  is  better 
 to  say,  if  a  stranger  offers  to  kiss  them  and  they  re¬ 
 fuse,  and  it  is  thought  best  to  say  any  thing,  “  Your 
 kisses  are  of  no  great  consequence,  they  may  be  dis¬ 
 pensed  with,  I  dare  say.”  This  leads  the  child  to 
 think  he  is  not  of  so  much  importance  as  he  might 
 otherwise  be  led  to  suppose. 
 
 It  is  also  very  necessary  to  good  government  that 
 punishment  should  be  proportioned  to  offences.  If 
 we  make  no  distinction  between  intentional  and 
 
195 
 
 complicated  offences,  and  careless  inadvertencies,  the 
 child,  by  the  frequent  recurrence  of  these  latter  faults, 
 and  the  sharp  rebukes  they  bring  upon  him,  will  be¬ 
 come  so  accustomed  to  severe  reproof,  that  he  will  not 
 mind  it.  Tenderness  of  heart  is  the  most  powerful 
 human  engine  of  parental  government;  and  when 
 this  is  lost,  it  seems  to  me  all  is  lost,  unless  the  grace 
 of  God  interpose.  The  inevitable  consequence  of 
 frequent  reproof  is,  a  heart  blunted  in  its  sensibili¬ 
 ties,  and  unmoved  by  the  parent’s  displeasure.  Of 
 course  all  temptations  should,  as  much  as  possible, 
 he  put  out  of  the  way  of  children.  Many  little 
 things  should  not  be  observed,  which,  if  you  were 
 conscious  the  child  knew  you  had  observed,  ought  to 
 be  reproved.  A  harsh  and  angry  tone  should  never 
 be  used,  unless  a  gentle  one  has  previously  failed. 
 And  I  believe,  where  the  authority  of  the  parent  is 
 early  established,  by  the  mild  and  gentle  means,  to 
 some  of  which  I  have  alluded,  severe  measures  need 
 to  be  resorted  to  very  seldom. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  P. 
 
 Boston ,  December  25,  1816. 
 
 My  dear  friend.  Last  summer  I  received  a  let¬ 
 ter  from  you,  and  also  a  copy  of  the  constitution  of 
 your  Maternal  Association.  The  receipt  of  them 
 would  have  been  sooner  acknowledged  had  circum¬ 
 stances  permitted.  But  I  trust  it  is  not  now  too  late 
 to  do  so,  and  express  the  satisfaction  they  afforded. 
 Since  then,  a  few  ladies  in  Boston,  with  some  of 
 whom  you  are  acquainted,  have  formed  a  similar 
 
 i  2 
 
196 
 
 association,  and  adopted  the  same  constitution.*  I 
 trust  we  have  found  them  useful  meetings ;  I  am  sure 
 they  have  been  pleasant. 
 
 The  uncommon  attention  which  is  paid  to  the 
 rising  generation  at  the  present  day,  is  a  token  for 
 irood.  It  is  truly  astonishing,  however,  that  bap¬ 
 tized  children  should,  as  such,  be  so  sadly  neglected 
 by  the  churches  to  which  they  belong,  as  they  now 
 are ;  though  it  is  a  fact,  which  should  be  acknow¬ 
 ledged  with  gratitude,  that  some  churches  have  of 
 late  taken  measures,  as  new  as  they  are  likely  to  be 
 salutary,  towards  effecting  a  reformation  in  this  par¬ 
 ticular^ 
 
 *  Similar  associations  have  since  been  formed  in  several  other 
 places,  and  they  have  been  found  highly  useful,  both  to  mothers 
 and  to  their  children.  The  constitution  and  rules  which  have 
 been  commonly  adopted  by  these  societies,  were  published  in  the 
 Boston  Recorder  of  Dec.  18,  1824. 
 
 f  What  the  measures  were  to  which  Mrs.  Huntington  here 
 alludes,  the  compiler  is  not  informed.  But  as  the  subject, 
 though  it  has  hitherto  received  little  attention,  is  one  of  great 
 importance,  a  brief  account,  it  is  presumed,  will  not  be  unaccept¬ 
 able  to  the  reader,  of  a  course  of  proceeding  in  relation  to  bap¬ 
 tized  children,  which  has  been  pursued,  with  happy  effect,  in  some 
 churches  in  the  middle  and  southern  States — Once  a  quarter, 
 the  baptized  children,  as  such,  are  assembled  in  the  church,  with 
 their  parents  or  guardians.  The  children  are  placed  together  in 
 the  body  of  the  house ;  the  parents  and  guardians  are  in  the  side 
 pews,  and,  if  more  room  is  needed,  in  the  gallery;  and  the  pas¬ 
 tor  and  elders  before  the  pulpit.  After  singing  and  prayer  the 
 children  are  solemnly  addressed  by  the  minister;  their  peculiar 
 relation  to  the  church  is  explained  to  them,  their  duties  and 
 obligations  are  stated — they  are  told  that  the  vows  of  God  are  upon 
 them,  &c.  &c.  Then  the  pastor  addresses  the  parents  and  guar¬ 
 dians,  explaining  and  enforcing  their  peculiar  duties,  in  the  pre¬ 
 sence  of  their  children.  He  then  turns  to  the  elders,  and  ad¬ 
 dresses  them  in  relation  to  the  duties,  in  regard  to  baptized 
 children  and  their  parents,  incumbent  on  the  session,  that  is, 
 the  pastor  and  elders.  The  exercises  are  then  concluded  with 
 
197 
 
 As  to  books  for  your  Maternal  Association,  I 
 am  willing  to  advise  you  as  far  as  I  am  capable, 
 though  my  knowledge  upon  the  subject,  whatever 
 you  may  think,  is  extremely  limited.  Upon  the 
 whole,  I  give  the  preference  to  Locke  and  Wither¬ 
 spoon,  above  any  other  writers  I  am  acquainted 
 with,  on  the  subject  of  education;  though  they  are 
 not  perfect.  Some  very  few  things  in  the  latter 
 appear  to  me  unnecessary,  and  are,  perhaps,  im¬ 
 practicable.  Miss  Hamilton’s  Letters  are  admir¬ 
 able,  so  far  as  they  refer  to  the  intellectual  culture 
 of  the  mind,  and  I  may  add,  to  mere  moral  disci¬ 
 pline.  Her  religious  opinions  are  quite  exception¬ 
 able  ;  but  as  they  are  not  presented  very  promi¬ 
 nently,  are  not  likely  to  do  much  hurt,  probably 
 none  to  those  whose  minds  are  thoroughly  imbued 
 with  correct  principles.  I  scarcely  know  a  writer 
 that  has  suggested  so  many  useful  thoughts  to  my 
 mind  as  Miss  Hamilton.  I  would  by  all  means 
 procure  her  Letters,  if  they  can  possibly  be  obtained. 
 Miss  Edgeworth  I  am  neither  so  well  acquainted 
 with,  nor  so  much  pleased  with,  as  others.  She 
 writes,  in  my  view,  too  much  like  a  theorist ;  some 
 of  her  plans  are  quite  visionary;  indeed,  in  this 
 country,  quite  impracticable.  Her  stories,  however, 
 evince  an  uncommon  knowledge  of  the  human  mind. 
 Mrs.  Grant’s  Intellectual  Education  I  have  seen,  but 
 cannot  say  I  was  very  much  pleased  with  it.  There 
 
 singing  and  prayer,  and  the  apostolic  benediction. — It  is  said, 
 that  where  this  coarse  has  been  faithfully  pursued  for  a  series  of 
 years,  a  very  large  proportion  of  the  baptized  youth  are  hopefully 
 pious. 
 
198 
 
 are  many  useful  hints  in  the  work,  but  it  is  not  so 
 simple  and  practical  as  some  others,  and  as  such  a 
 work  ought  to  be.  There  is  a  series  of  letters  in 
 the  Christian  Observer  on  the  subject,  I  think  in  the 
 12th  volume,  which  are  uncommonly  judicious. 
 
 These  helps  which  God  has  afforded  us,  ought 
 to  make  us  more  useful  in  our  maternal  capacity. 
 They  certainly  call  for  gratitude.  But,  after  all, 
 if  we  were  better  Christians,  we  should  be  more 
 likely  to  make  good  mothers.  Consistent,  ardent 
 piety,  is  the  most  essential  qualification  in  a  mother, 
 for  the  proper  education  of  her  offspring.  Children 
 are  more  influenced  by  example  than  by  any  thing 
 else;  and  were  our  behaviour  before  them,  at  all 
 times,  circumspect,  Christ-like — did  not  the  ebulli¬ 
 tions  of  passion,  the  spirit  of  worldly-mindedness, 
 and  the  love  of  selfish  gratification,  so  often  appear 
 in  our  conduct,  and  utterly  defeat  our  well-formed 
 plans  and  good  intentions — we  should  not  so  often 
 have  to  complain,  that  we  labour  in  vain,  and  spend 
 our  strength  for  nought.  Alas  !  in  correcting  the 
 faults  of  our  children,  how  many  faults  do  we  find 
 to  correct  in  ourselves  !  Were  it  not  that  it  is  of 
 God  who  showeth  mercy,  there  would  be  little  en¬ 
 couragement  indeed.  But,  blessed  be  his  name  ! 
 there  is  encouragement  sufficient  to  stimulate  to  the 
 most  unwearied  exertion.  And  those  who  diligently 
 sow  the  seed,  in  humble  dependence  on  his  blessing, 
 shall  doubtless,  sooner  or  later,  reap  an  abundant 
 harvest. 
 
 Our  Association  meets  the  same  day  with  yours. 
 We  wish  you  always  to  remember  us  on  those  days, 
 
199 
 
 as  we  shall  you,  and  other  similar  institutions ;  and 
 on  all  other  occasions  when  it  is  proper.  We  need 
 each  other’s  prayers. 
 
 February  26,  1817.  I  never  felt  as  if  I  had  more 
 cause  for  gratitude  than  now,  every  trial  is  so  mer¬ 
 cifully  tempered.  I  enjoy  the  exhibitions  of  reason 
 in  my  other  children  a  thousand  times  more  on  ac¬ 
 count  of  dear  Elizabeth’s  situation.  God  is  very 
 gracious  to  me,  even  in  respect  to  her.  She  seems 
 to  suffer  but  little,  and  is  a  sweet,  quiet  child.  This 
 heart  of  stone,  this  flinty,  stubborn  heart,  which  can 
 requite  love  so  great  with  ingratitude,  is,  I  think, 
 my  greatest  trouble.  I  shall  begin  the  sixth  of  next 
 month,  which  will  be  Elizabeth’s  birth-day,  to  observe 
 a  quarterly  fast  on  her  account. 
 
 March  15.  Heaven  looks  very  sweet;  but  I  am 
 sometimes  led  to  fear,  that  such  a  vile  creature,  so 
 little  inclined  to  improve  under  the  culture  of  thp 
 gospel,  can  never  enter  it.  Were  the  Christian  re¬ 
 ligion  a  delusion,  it  would  be  the  most  blessed  de¬ 
 lusion  that  ever  smiled  on  the  heart  of  man.  But  it 
 is  not,  it  cannot  be,  a  delusion.  Oh  no  :  blessed  be 
 God  !  there  is  an  inheritance,  incorruptible,  undefiled, 
 and  that  fadeth  not  away,  reserving  in  heaven  for 
 those  who  obey  the  calls  of  his  word;  and  their  afflic¬ 
 tions,  however  severe,  shall  all  he  made  to  work  for 
 them  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory. 
 
200 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  BOSTON. 
 
 Saratoga  Springs,  June  20,  1817. 
 
 We  have  been  brought  thus  far  on  our  journey 
 in  safety.  My  health  is  good,  and  Mr.  Hunting¬ 
 ton's  evidently  improving.  We  shall  continue  here 
 a  few  days,  and  then  set  out  for  the  Falls. 
 
 In  the  society  of  such  a  place  as  this,  a  Christian, 
 while  he  finds  much  that  is  pleasent,  sees  many  things 
 that  give  him  pain.  To  hear  one  complaining  of 
 sorrows,  for  which  we  feel  there  is  a  balm  which  he 
 knows  not  of,  and  another  regretting  past  disappoint¬ 
 ments,  and  vainly  promising  himself  ample  remunera¬ 
 tion  in  future  gratifications,  when  we  know  there  is 
 a  hope  sure  and  steadfast  of  which  he  is  ignorant, 
 without  being  able  to  speak  of  either,  is  revolting  to 
 the  spirit  of  philanthropy  as  well  as  of  Christianity. 
 He  is  the  wise  man  who  is  able  to  seize  the  66  time 
 to  speak,”  and  employ  it  properly.  And  it  certainly 
 argues  a  criminal  indifference  to  the  interests  of  our 
 fellow-creatures,  or  a  deplorable  fear  of  man,  to  be 
 habitually  and  totally  silent  on  those  subjects  in  such 
 circumstances. 
 
 Oh  could  the  influence  of  the  great  world  be 
 thrown  into  the  scale  of  religion !  Blessed  be  God  ! 
 the  time  is  coming  when  this  will  be  the  case.  This 
 expectation  gives  joy  to  my  heart.  Especially,  my 
 dear  Miss  L.  I  do  earnestly  desire  that  Boston  may 
 be  visited  with  one  of  those  vivifying  and  refreshing 
 showers,  which  cause  the  church  to  look  forth  cc  fair 
 as  the  moon,  clear  as  the  sun,  and  terrible  as  an  army 
 with  banners.”  No  blessing  of  a  temporal  nature — 
 
201 
 
 the  increase  of  corn  and  wine,  and  possessions,  can 
 be  compared  with  it.  This,  if  we  are  Christians,  we 
 must  not  only  acknowledge,  but  feel.  Lamentable 
 inconsistency,  that,  feeling  and  acknowledging  it,  we 
 do  so  little  to  effect  it !  A  few  feeble  desires  avail 
 nothing;  our  desires  are  equal,  and  only  equal,  to 
 our  efforts ;  for,  in  every  thing  else,  we  judge  of  the 
 strength  of  desire  by  what  is  actually  attempted. 
 How,  then,  can  we  talk  of  desires  for  the  advance¬ 
 ment  of  true  religion,  when  we  do  nothing  to  pro¬ 
 mote  its  extension  ?  Oh  that  a  spirit  of  earnest 
 longing,  and  of  efficient  doing,  might  be  poured  out 
 upon  professors  in  that  dear  metropolis  where  God 
 has  cast  our  lot ! 
 
 TO  ANOTHER  FRIEND  IN  BOSTON. 
 
 Auburn ,  June  28,  1817. 
 
 There  has  been  a  great  deal  of  rain  since  we  left 
 home;  our  journey  has,  however,  been  on  the  whole 
 a  pleasant  one.  My  last  letter  was  from  Saratoga 
 Springs,  more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from 
 this.  We  are  surprised  to  find  how  universally  this 
 State  is  peopled  upon  this  road.  It  is  quite  amusing 
 to  think,  how  little  I  was  prepared  to  find  a  country, 
 thirty  years  ago  a  wilderness,  more  generally  settled 
 than  some  parts  of  our  own  State ;  for  instance,  be¬ 
 tween  Brookfield  and  Northampton.  Thus  far  we 
 have,  every  mile,  seen  cultivated  lands,  fine  orchards, 
 and  good  houses.  Many  of  the  buildings  are  con¬ 
 structed  with  a  neat  and  simple  elegance,  which  is 
 very  gratifying  to  the  traveller.  We  have  been 
 much  pleased  with  some  of  the  houses  of  worship. 
 
 i  3 
 
202 
 
 The  land  appears,  generally,  to  be  very  fertile,  and 
 seems  to  promise  a  liberal  return  for  the  labours  of 
 the  husbandman. 
 
 We  passed  the  settlement  of  the  Oneida  Indians 
 yesterday.  You  recollect  that  Mr.  Kirkland  was 
 formerly  Missionary  among  them.  Their  present 
 minister  is  a  Mr.  Williams,  who,  I  hear,  is  a  very 
 worthy  man.  It  is  curious  to  see  how  scrupulously 
 they  adhere  to  their  ancient  dress  and  customs,  though 
 in  the  midst  of  a  civilized  people. 
 
 Auburn  is  quite  a  pretty  village,  something  city¬ 
 like  in  its  appearance.  Mr.  Huntington  has  gone 
 to  call  on  the  Presbyterian  minister  while  I  am  writ¬ 
 ing.  We  are  told  there  is  a  revival  in  his  congrega¬ 
 tion,  and  that  his  house  is  filled  on  the  Sabbath  with 
 anxiously  attentive  hearers.  As  to-morrow  will  be 
 the  Sabbath,  we  expect  to  hear  him  preach,  and  see 
 his  congregation. 
 
 o  o 
 
 Canandaigua ,  July  2.  I  intended  to  have  finished 
 my  letter  before,  but  could  not.  We  were  much 
 pleased  with  the  appearance  of  the  congregation  with 
 which  we  worshipped  at  Auburn  on  the  Sabbath. 
 There  is  evidently  a  work  of  the  Spirit  among  them. 
 Between  forty  and  fifty  have  obtained  hope,  since 
 the  commencement  of  the  revival.  The  subjects  of 
 the  work  are,  as  is  usually  the  case,  mostly  young 
 people.  The  minister  seems  to  be  much  engaged. 
 It  was  truly  delightful  to  spend  a  Sabbath  in  such 
 circumstances. 
 
 The  roads  have  been  so  bad  the  last  few  days, 
 that  I  feel  quite  fatigued,  but  hope  I  shall  hold  out 
 to  the  end  of  our  journey.  How  the  hurried,  noisy, 
 
203 
 
 and  dissipated  life  some  people  lead,  can  be  comfort¬ 
 able,  I  see  not.  Tranquillity  is  as  necessary  to  my 
 happiness  as  bustle  seems  to  be  to  theirs.  A  con¬ 
 stant  round  of  incidents  and  company,  is  very  dis¬ 
 tressing  to  my  mind.  And,  what  is  especially  to  be 
 lamented,  it  is  with  great  difficulty  that  I  can,  in  such 
 circumstances,  keep  up  any  savour  of  divine  things. 
 
 I  have  just  received  a  letter  from  our  beloved  H. 
 As  cold  water  to  a  thirsty  soul,  is  good  news  from 
 those  we  love.  There  is  nobody,  after  all,  like  our 
 dear  folks  at  home.  May  God  bless  them  and  us, 
 and  make  us  all  blessings  to  each  other  !  I  seem  to 
 love  you  better  for  this  temporary  separation.  Pleas¬ 
 ing  is  the  hope  of  soon  meeting  you  again.  But 
 how  much  more  pleasant,  how  cheering,  is  the  hope 
 of  meeting  in  heaven  !  God  forbid  that  any  of  us 
 should  come  short  of  it. 
 
 TO  ANOTHER  FRIEND  IN  BOSTON. 
 
 Herkimer,  July  18,  1817. 
 
 I  fear  you  have  begun  to  think  me  rather  remiss 
 in  acknowledging  the  receipt  of  your  letter  several 
 weeks  ago.  As  I  am  certain,  however,  that  you 
 will  not  charge  such  remissness  to  the  want  of  affec¬ 
 tion  on  my  part,  I  shall  only  say,  I  have  been  going 
 from  one  place  to  another  so  constantly,  that  I  have 
 been  unable  to  write  as  frequently  as  I  wished.  Since 
 my  letter  to  Miss  P.  from  Canandaigua,  we  have 
 been  to  the  Falls,  through  Buffaloe;  and,  I  must 
 say,  have  been  more  gratified  than  I  expected  to  be. 
 The  country,  the  whole  distance,  with  a  few  excep- 
 
204. 
 
 tions,  is  delightful.  The  ride  from  Black  Rock,  on 
 the  Canada  side,  to  the  Falls,  is  on  the  banks  of  the 
 Niagara  river ;  and  this  circumstance  is  sufficient  to 
 make  it  interesting.  Add  to  this,  that  it  was  the 
 seat  of  a  considerable  part  of  the  last  war,  and  you 
 will  readily  believe  that  it  must  be  highly  interesting. 
 We  saw  spots  on  the  grass  of  deep  green,  fertilized 
 with  human  blood,  and  bones  unburied. — As  to  the 
 Falls,  I  shall  not  hazard  a  description  of  them ;  they 
 are  grand  beyond  description. 
 
 Our  journey  has  been  a  very  pleasant  one.  Wre 
 have  been  highly  gratified  with  the  appearance  of 
 things,  in  many  parts  of  this  State,  in  a  religious 
 point  of  view.  W e  did  not  expect  to  see  flourishing 
 churches  of  two  and  three  hundred  members,  and  to 
 behold  the  people  flocking  in  crowds  to  the  sanctuary, 
 three  times  on  the  Sabbath,  in  this  wilderness,  as  we 
 had  considered  it.  In  many  places  religion  is  almost 
 the  only  topic  of  conversation.  I  was  particularly 
 interested  in  our  visit  at  Geneva,  a  most  beautifully 
 situated  village,  sixteen  miles  this  side  of  Canandaigua. 
 The  good  people  there  seemed  to  think  religion  was 
 in  a  dull  and  languid  state  among  them.  But  I 
 thought  I  found  there  a  great  deal  of  the  very  life 
 and  soul  of  it.  Some  of  the  ladies  will,  I  hope,  fol¬ 
 low  our  example,  and  form  a  Maternal  Association. 
 At  Buffaloe  there  is  more  than  a  usual  attention  to 
 religion. 
 
 Buffaloe  is  a  delightfully  situated  place,  on  the 
 bay,  or  whatever  else  it  is  called,  where  the  waters 
 of  Lake  Erie  enter  the  Niagara  river.  It  is  really 
 very  pleasant  to  see  such  a  city-like  place  grown 
 up,  as  if  by  enchantment,  on  the  extremity  of  our 
 
205 
 
 western  frontier.  There  is  but  one  house,  a  log  one, 
 standing  now,  which  survived  the  fire  two  years  ago. 
 The  whole  village  beside  was  consumed.  The 
 people  are  still  rather  depressed  by  their  late  cala¬ 
 mities,  and  have  been  somewhat  straitened  in  build¬ 
 ing  a  house  for  public  worship.  They  hope  to  re¬ 
 ceive  some  remuneration  for  their  losses  from  the 
 government. — Canandaigua  is  an  elegant  village ; 
 there  is  scarcely  a  poor  house  in  the  place. 
 
 Has  any  thing  of  consequence  transpired  among 
 you,  or  any  of  the  churches,  since  we  left  Boston  ? 
 Soon,  I  hope,  we  shall  see  our  dear  home.  Oh 
 that  we  might  find  such  a  time  of  refreshing  from 
 the  presence  of  the  Lord  there,  as  has  lately  been 
 experienced  in  some  of  the  towns  through  which  we 
 have  passed  ! — How  are  our  dear  little  ones  ?  The 
 Lord  be  their  keeper,  and  preserve  them  from  harm  ! 
 Write  me  all  about  them,  and  direct  to  Worcester. 
 Remember  me  most  affectionately  to  all  whom  you 
 know  I  love,  and  that  is  very  many.  Tell  the  chil¬ 
 dren  that  we  shall  soon  be  home,  if  it  please  God. 
 Kiss  them  all  for  us. — And  now,  my  dear  friend, 
 adieu.  May  God  be  our  God,  and  the  God  of  ours, 
 our  guide  and  portion  unto  death  ! 
 
 TO  HER  MOTHER,  AT  KILLINGWORTH,  CONN. 
 
 Boston ,  August  8,  1817. 
 
 We  arrived  at  home  last  night,  and  had  the  great 
 comfort  of  finding  our  dear  little  ones  in  usual 
 health,  which  is  a  peculiar  mercy,  for  I  am  told  it  is 
 quite  sickly  in  town.  I  hope  this  will  find  you  more 
 
206 
 
 comfortable  than  you  were  when  I  left  Killingworth.* 
 Oh,  my  dear  mother,  I  did  not  expect  to  see  you  so 
 much  altered  and  enfeebled  !  But  I  hope  that  God 
 is  dealing  with  you  in  covenant  love ;  and  if  so,  all 
 your  trials  will  be  the  means  of  fitting  you  more  per¬ 
 fectly  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  It  is  a  great  thing 
 to  grow  better  by  suffering.  God  sends  judgments 
 upon  his  children  to  wean  them  from  the  world  and 
 from  sin,  and  to  make  them  more  like  himself.  I 
 hope  you  will  find  that  God  is  an  unfailing  refuge 
 in  every  time  of  trial.  My  dear  mother,  do  not  be 
 discouraged,  but  carry  all  your  sorrows  to  Him  by 
 whose  power  all  things  are  controlled.  He  will  not 
 suffer  you  to  be  tried  above  what  he  will  enable  you 
 to  bear.  Trust  in  the  Lord  Jehovah,  with  whom  is 
 everlasting  strength.  Those  that  wait  on  him  shall 
 renew  their  strength,  they  shall  never  faint.  Though 
 he  may  see  that  his  children  need  the  rod,  and,  if  I 
 may  use  the  expression  in  reference  to  him,  be  con¬ 
 strained,  in  faithfulness,  to  visit  them  with  it,  yet, 
 blessed  be  his  name  !  to  them  he  always  tempers  the 
 stroke  with  mercy. 
 
 I  long,  dear  mother,  to  have  you  enjoy  again  the 
 light  of  God’s  countenance,  which  will  make  all  your 
 burdens  light.  Keep  near,  I  entreat  you,  to  Him 
 who  is  a  sun  and  shield  to  his  people.  Wait  upon 
 him  by  constant  prayer  and  supplication.  Let  sis¬ 
 ter  read  the  Bible  to  you  every  day.  Some  of  the 
 
 *  Her  mother  was  at  this  time  afflicted  with  great  bodily 
 weakness,  and  with  unusual  spiritual  darkness.  From  the  latter 
 she  was  soon  mercifully  delivered,  and  continued  to  enjoy  peace 
 of  mind  till  the  close  of  life. 
 
207 
 
 sweet  psalms  of  David  are  exactly  suited  to  your 
 case.  He  was,  more  than  once,  afflicted  and  ready 
 to  die,  he  was  chastened  sore ;  yet  he  was  not  de¬ 
 livered  over  to  spiritual  death.  The  God  whom  he 
 loved,  in  his  heaviest  hours,  sanctified  to  him  the 
 overwhelming  calamities,  which  sometimes  seemed 
 ready  to  swallow  him  up ;  and  he  could  say,  cs  God 
 is  our  refuge  and  strength,  a  very  present  help  in 
 trouble ;  therefore  will  we  not  fear,  though  the  earth 
 be  removed,  and  though  the  mountains  be  carried 
 into  the  midst  of  the  sea;  though  the  waters  thereof 
 roar  and  be  troubled,  though  the  mountains  shake 
 with  the  swelling  thereof,’*  that  is,  though  the  hea¬ 
 viest  calamities  befall  us.  Happy,  happy  man  ! 
 What  real  evil  can  touch  those  who  have  such  a 
 confidence  in  their  Maker?  Some  of  Rippon’s 
 Hy  mns  have  been  very  precious  to  you  in  times  past; 
 let  them  be  read  to  you  now. 
 
 Dear  mamma,  strive  to  profit  by  the  rod.  Let 
 sin  be  made  more  hateful  to  you  by  it,  for  this  is  the 
 procuring  cause  of  all  sorrows.  And  try  to  glorify 
 God  in  your  tribulations.  If  his  glory  is  near  our 
 hearts,  our  comfort  and  salvation  are  near  his.  There 
 is  one  thing  you  can  do.  Say  not  that  you  live  in 
 vain.  How  much  may  you  do  by  your  prayers? 
 Does  not  your  own  soul  need  them  ?  Do  not  your 
 children  in  Killingworth  need  them  ?  Do  not  we 
 need  them  ?  Does  not  Zion  need  them  ?  So  long 
 as  Christians  can  pray,  they  may  do  more  good  in 
 the  world  than  the  greatest  of  unsanctified  heroes 
 and  conquerors.  And  now,  my  dear  mother,  adieu. 
 May  the  God  of  mercy  bless  you,  and  prepare  us  to 
 meet  in  heaven,  for  his  dear  Son’s  sake. 
 
208 
 
 September  6.  I  think  we  are  happy  just  in  pro¬ 
 portion  as  we  are  humble.  When  true  humility 
 possesses  our  souls,  we  are  not  wounded  by  the  in¬ 
 difference  of  others,  because  we  feel  that  we  are  still 
 treated  more  honourably  than  we  deserve ;  neither 
 do  afflictions  overwhelm  us,  because  we  feel  that 
 there  is  still  much  more  occasion  for  gratitude  than 
 for  complaint.  Oh  for  the  spirit  of  Jesus,  who  was 
 meek  and  lowly  in  heart  ! 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  N.  H. 
 
 Boston ,  September  23,  1817. 
 
 When  have  you  heard  from  Charleston  ?  The 
 sickness  there  makes  me  very  anxious  about  our  be¬ 
 loved  Mary.  Dear  girl !  were  she  to  fall  a  victim 
 to  this  distressing  epidemic,  how  many  hearts  would 
 bleed,  how  irreparable  would  be  the  loss  to  her 
 family !  But  I  hope  that  the  God  who  has  repeat¬ 
 edly  carried  her  through  the  most  trying  scenes  will 
 still  spare  her,  to  contribute,  by  her  pious  and  dis¬ 
 interested  exertions,  to  the  comfort  of  those  friends 
 who  had  so  often  looked  to  her  for  it.  I  should  feel 
 her  death  deeply,  for  she  has  been  to  me  a  friend 
 peculiarly  suited  to  be  useful  in  seasons  of  adversity; 
 and  how  few  such  there  are  !  Does  her  mother 
 know  how  much  danger  she  is  in  ?  If  she  does,  in 
 her  feeble  state,  how  greatly  must  she  be  afflicted  ! 
 But  so  it  is  in  this  world.  We  must  look  only  to 
 heaven  for  uninterrupted  rest.  Happy  they  who 
 have  attained  that  measure  of  faith  which  enables 
 them  to  trust,  undismayed,  in  the  unchangeable 
 goodness  and  perfect  wisdom  of  Jehovah,  when  as- 
 
209 
 
 sailed  by  calamity  !  When  you  hear  from  Charles¬ 
 ton,  do  let  me  know.  I  dread  to  look  over  the 
 weekly  list  of  deaths,  lest  a  dear  name  should  meet 
 my  eye. 
 
 TO  THE  SAME. 
 
 f 
 
 Boston ,  September  24,  1817. 
 
 Oh,  my  dear  E.  little  did  I  think,  when  I  wrote 
 last,  that  my  anxious  inquiries  were  to  be  answered 
 so  soon,  and  to  receive  such  an  answer  !  Your  letter, 
 containing  the  melancholy,  the  heart-rending  tid¬ 
 ings,*  has  just  been  received. — And  why  should  I 
 say  heart-rending  tidings  ?  Shall  that  be  deemed 
 heart-rending,  which  is  so  unutterably  for  her  ad¬ 
 vantage  and  felicity  ?  But  when  I  think  of  her  dear 
 mother,  feeble  and  broken,  wanting  just  such  a 
 steady  arm  as  hers  to  lean  upon — when  I  think  of 
 the  dear  sister  whom  she  has  left  in  a  land  of  stran¬ 
 gers — when  I  think  of  the  church,  which  had  her 
 fervent,  daily  prayers,  such  prayers  as  not  many 
 offer  on  earth — when  I  think  of  myself,  the  tender 
 sympathy  she  felt  for  me  in  affliction,  the  undissem¬ 
 bled  and  faithful  affection  she  bore  me,  which  sur¬ 
 vived  years  of  separation,  and  bore  with  all  my  frail¬ 
 ties  and  follies — and  then  reflect  that  her  friendship, 
 her  efforts,  her  prayers,  for  me,  for  others,  for  the 
 church,  are  all  at  an  end, — how  can  I  help  mourn¬ 
 ing,  bitterly  mourning  ?  Oh,  God  of  mercy  !  let  her 
 mantle  fall  on  us  who  remain !  Let  something  of 
 that  meek,  prayerful,  holy,  Christ-like  spirit,  which 
 
 *  Of  the  death,  at  Charleston,  S.  C.  of  Miss  Mary  Lyon,  who 
 had  long  been  one  of  her  most  intimate  and  endeared  friends. 
 
210 
 
 distinguished  her,  be  communicated  to  us,  and  abide 
 with  us  continually  !  Alas  !  little  did  I  think  she 
 was  going  to  Charleston  to  find  her  grave  !  But  she 
 died  as  she  lived — magnanimously,  disinterestedly, 
 and  cheerfully  sacrificing  her  own  desires  and  com¬ 
 forts  for  others.  And  the  righteous  God  will  recom¬ 
 pense,  is  recompensing  her  for  it. 
 
 Oh  that  my  affections  may  be  now  detached  from 
 that  world  which  God  would  make  more  indifferent 
 to  me,  by  lopping  from  it  my  comforts,  one  after 
 another  !  “  What  manner  of  persons  ought  we  to 
 
 be  in  all  holy  conversation  and  godliness  !”  It  will 
 be  but  a  little  time  that  we  shall  occupy  a  place 
 among  the  living.  Our  friends  are  going  into  eter¬ 
 nity  very  fast,  and  we  that  remain  must  live  here  as 
 mourners.  And  if  as  mourners,  our  hearts  will  not 
 settle  very  permanently  on  the  empty  shades  of  this 
 dying  world. 
 
 TO  HER  MOTHER,  AT  KILLINGWORTH. 
 
 / 
 
 Boston ,  December  16,  18T7. 
 
 My  dear'  mother.  We  received  a  letter  from 
 sister  S.  a  short  time  since,  informing  us  of  your 
 circumstances,  which,  we  most  truly  rejoice  to  hear, 
 were  then  so  comfortable.  How  much  reason  have 
 you  for  everlasting  gratitude  to  God  for  his  gracious 
 manifestations  of  himself  to  you  !  I  long  to  hear 
 that  you  are  still  rejoicing  in  his  soul-comforting, 
 soul-sanctifying  presence ;  that  you  are  still  enabled 
 to  say,  This  God  is  my  God,  and  he  will  be  my 
 guide  and  portion  until  death.  Dear,  very  dear 
 mamma,  how  it  comforted  my  heart  to  be  informed 
 
211 
 
 of  the  comfort  which  you  received.  God  is  faithful. 
 He  is  a  strong  tower,  into  which  the  righteous  run¬ 
 neth,  and  is  safe.  Trust  in  him ;  and,  in  every  ex¬ 
 tremity,  you  will  find  him  a  sure  and  unfailing  rest- 
 ing-place. 
 
 Oh  the  blessedness  of  having  God  for  our  helper  ! 
 But  we  must  keep  near  to  him.  If  his  children 
 transgress  and  forsake  him,  he  removes  that  light  in 
 which  they  live,  and  they  are  overwhelmed  with  sor¬ 
 row.  How  much  comfort  do  we  lose  by  slackening 
 our  diligence  in  duty,  and  neglecting  to  watch 
 against  sin  ! 
 
 How  oft  have  sin  and  Satan  strove 
 
 To  draw  my  heart  from  Him  I  love  ! 
 
 And,  alas,  how  successfully  !  is  the  mournful  lan¬ 
 guage  of  every  Christian. 
 
 But,  my  dear  mother,  there  is  a  world  where  sin 
 shall  assault  us  no  more  ;  where  the  song  of  victory 
 shall  never  be  interrupted  by  regrets  and  lamenta¬ 
 tions  ;  where  progress  in  knowledge  and  bliss  shall 
 be  rapid,  unceasing,  and  endless.  Blessed  world  ! 
 does  not  the  hope  of  it  make  the  trials,  the  suffer¬ 
 ings,  the  conflicts,  the  wrestlings  of  this  compara¬ 
 tively  easy?  For  that  world,  my  mother,  I  believe 
 you  are  preparing.  Oh,  keep  heaven  much  in  view  ! 
 It  will  strengthen  you  to  overcome  those  legions  of 
 corruptions  against  which  every  Christian  must  fight 
 till  he  dies.  Be  daily  and  hourly  committing  your¬ 
 self  to  Him  who  is  mighty  to  save :  who  can,  who, 
 if  you  look  to  him,  certainly  will,  strengthen  you  to 
 resist  every  sin,  endure  every  pain,  and  bear  every 
 trial  to  his  glory.  What  a  blessed  thing  to  glorify 
 
212 
 
 God  in  any  way  which  he  appoints  !  It  is  better  to 
 glorify  God  than  to  possess  worlds.  And  this  you 
 may  do ;  this  you  will  do,  if  you  go  out  of  yourself, 
 and  seek  all  your  supplies  of  grace  and  strength  im¬ 
 mediately  from  Christ ;  for  he  will  then  enable  you 
 to  do  it.  Dearest  mother  !  may  the  God  of  mercy 
 bless  you  !  May  the  Saviour  of  sinners  wash  and 
 justify  you  !  May  the  Holy  Ghost  sanctify  you 
 wholly,  in  soul,  body,  and  spirit !  And  may  you 
 and  your  unworthy  child  spend  an  eternity  together 
 in  wondering  at  the  grace  which  has  saved  us  ! 
 
 December  25.  My  dear  husband  has  been  con¬ 
 fined  about  a  fortnight  with  a  rheumatic  fever.  He 
 is  on  the  recovery,  but  is  very  weak.  When  he 
 was  first  seized,  I  think  I  felt  it  a  pleasant  thing  to 
 glorify  God  in  just  that  course  of  his  providence 
 which  he  should  appoint,  and  that  my  present  busi¬ 
 ness  was,  cheerful  acquiescence  in  his  will,  and  an 
 humble  and  faithful  performance  of  the  duties  im¬ 
 mediately  resulting  from  this  affliction.  I  think  the 
 confinement  and  the  fatigue  looked  comparatively 
 welcome,  because  they  were  the  Lord’s  allotment. 
 Especially  I  felt  that  I  deserved  the  chastisement, 
 and  therefore  could  receive  it  with  submission.  But, 
 for  a  few  days  past,  it  has  seemed  as  if  Satan  and 
 my  own  corruptions  were  ready  to  swallow  me  up. 
 I  have  been  tossed  with  a  tempest,  and  not  com¬ 
 forted.  My  heart-sins  have  never  seemed  to  me  so 
 dreadful  as  of  late. 
 
 And  shall  I  give  up  the  pursuit  of  holiness  ? 
 Shall  I  cease  to  struggle  for  the  victory  over  my 
 formidable  enemies  ?  Shall  I  say,  my  hope  is  perished 
 
213 
 
 from  the  Lord  ?  O  my  God  !  where  shall  I  find 
 rest  but  in  thy  love  ?  Thou  mightest  justly  abandon 
 me.  But  do  I  not  love  thee  ?  Does  not  my  soul 
 cling  to  thee  as  its  only  hope  ?  Does  not  thy  law 
 appear  to  me  holy,  just,  and  good  ?  and  conformity 
 of  soul  to  it  as  more  to  be  desired  than  the  actual 
 enjoyment  of  all  those  dreams  of  earthly  felicity  with 
 which  mankind  deceive  themselves  to  perdition  ? 
 Oh  help  me  !  Jesus,  my  strength,  help  me  !  Let 
 not  my  corruptions  swallow  me  up  !  Answer  me 
 speedily,  blessed  Saviour,  lest  I  become  like  them 
 that  go  down  to  the  pit ! 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  Y. 
 
 Boston ,  December  19,  1817. 
 
 The  state  of  things  here,  in  a  religious  point  of 
 view,  is  brightening.  Much  is  doing,  in  various 
 ways,  for  promoting  the  influence  of  truth ;  and  we 
 do  hope,  we  think  not  without  reason,  that  there 
 will  soon  be  seen  here  an  increase  of  real  Christi¬ 
 anity,  more  remarkable  than  has  been  experienced 
 in  Boston  for  a  long  time.  What  is  the  state  oi 
 things  in  N.  Y.  now?  Does  party  spirit  run  as 
 high  as  ever  ?  I  do  not  much  wonder  that  some 
 persons,  seeing  the  bitterness  of  such  religionists 
 against  each  other,  should  be  led  to  think  there  is 
 nothing  in  religion.  But  let  them,  as  they  certainly 
 ought  to  do  before  they  decide,  examine  the  Scrip¬ 
 tures  with  impartiality,  and  they  will  find  that  the 
 “  wars  and  fightings,”  among  Christians  differing 
 only  in  non-essentials,  proceed  not  from  the  religious 
 principle,  but  from  those  sinful  ((  lusts,”  which  the 
 
214 
 
 Christian  religion  most  pointedly  condemns.  «  The 
 fruits  of  the  Spirit,”  the  fruits  of  genuine  Christian 
 principle,  are  love,  joy,  peace,  long-suffering, 
 gentleness,  goodness,  faith,  meekness,  temperance.” 
 And  they  that  are  Christ’s  have  crucified  the  flesh, 
 with  the  affections  and  lusts. 
 
 TO  HER  SISTERS,*  AT  KILLINGWORTH,  CONN. 
 
 Boston ,  January  10,  1818. 
 
 My  dear  sisters,  the  long-expected,  but  melan¬ 
 choly  and  afflictive  tidings  of  our  beloved  mother’s 
 dissolution  reached  me  on  Wednesday  last.  The 
 stioke  has  fallen,  and  we  are  without  a  parent.  But 
 the  Psalmist  says,  “  When  my  father  and  my  mother 
 foi sake  me,  then  the  Lord  will  take  me  up.”  Oh 
 to  be  taken  up,  to  be  adopted,  taken  into  God’s 
 family ;  to  have  him  exercise  over  us  the  endearing, 
 the  watchful,  the  vigilant  attention  and  care  of  an 
 omniscient  and  almighty  Parent !  But  in  order  to 
 this,  something  is  necessary  on  our  part.  As  God 
 promises  to  be  the  husband  only  of  the  “  widow  in¬ 
 deed,”  so  he  promises  to  be  the  father  only  of  the 
 orphan  indeed;  of  those  who,  disclaiming  all  other 
 dependence,  fly  to  him,  through  Jesus  Christ,  as 
 their  best,  theii  only  portion ;  who  feel  the  vanity  of 
 all  human  helpers;  who  love  him  with  a  filial  and 
 holy  love ;  and  who  manifest  their  attachment  by  a 
 hatred  or  sin,  which  he  hates,  by  a  pursuit  of  the 
 holiness  he  enjoins,  by  a  life  of  unreserved  obedience 
 to  his  law.  For  how  can  we  love  God,  if  we  are 
 
 *  Children  of  her  mother,  but  not  of  her  father. 
 
215 
 
 careless  of  offending  him  ?  How  can  we  for  a  mo¬ 
 ment  think  we  love  him,  if  we  allow  ourselves  in  any 
 thing  he  hates  ?  66  This  is  the  love  of  God,  that 
 
 we  keep  his  commandments.  He  that  saith,  I  know 
 him,  and  keepeth  not  his  commandments,  is  a  liar, 
 and  the  truth  is  not  in  him.”  My  dear  sisters,  can 
 we,  with  these  passages  of  Scripture  before  us,  ap¬ 
 peal  to  our  Master  and  future  Judge,  as  Peter  did, 
 and  say,  <c  Lord,  thou  knowest  all  things,  thou 
 knowest  that  I  love  thee  ?”  If  so,  then  are  we  the 
 children  of  God,  heirs  of  God,  and  joint-heirs  with 
 Christ ;  then  are  we  preparing  for  heaven ;  then  our 
 God  will  lead  us  in  a  right  way  to  the  city  of  habi¬ 
 tation  ;  he  will  smooth  the  path  of  life,  or  give  us 
 strength  to  surmount  every  difficulty  of  the  way, 
 accompanying  every  cross  with  his  blessing ;  and 
 ultimately  bring  us  to  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  the 
 inner  temple  of  his  glory,  to  the  full  and  endless 
 enjoyment  of  himself  in  heaven. 
 
 Is  it  so,  my  beloved  sisters  ?  Dust  and  ashes, 
 pollution  and  guilt  as  we  are,  does  the  infinite  Je¬ 
 hovah  allow  us  to  indulge  such  a  hope  as  this?  And 
 can  we  live  in  sin  ?  Can  we  live  without  panting 
 after  grace  to  glorify  him  much,  from  whom  we  have 
 received  all?  Can  we  go  on,  day  after  day,  and 
 month  after  month,  doing  nothing  for  his  glory,  for 
 his  cause,  for  his  people?  Time  flies.  We  are 
 drawing  near  to  eternity.  Our  friends  are,  in  rapid 
 succession,  called  away.  Our  turn  must  soon  come. 
 And,  oh  !  my  heart  is  full  while  I  think  of  it,  what 
 are  we  doing  to  make  life  pleasant  in  the  retrospect, 
 to  give  calmness  and  serenity  to  the  dying  hour,  to 
 make  eternity  happy  ?  What  are  we  doing  which 
 
216 
 
 evinces  our  hope  to  be  that  which  maketh  not 
 ashamed,  and  which  will  receive  the  Master’s  gracious 
 reward  ?  These  are  inquiries  in  which  we  are  all 
 deeply  concerned.  Alas  !  what  bitter  self-reproaches 
 do  they  cause  me  to  feel !  Oh  for  grace  to  have 
 our  lamps  trimmed  and  burning,  and  to  be  waiting 
 for  the  coming  of  our  Lord  ! 
 
 4 
 
 January  12,  1818.  Since  writing  last  in  my  jour¬ 
 nal,  Mr.  Huntington  has  so  far  recovered  as  to  go 
 to  New  London,  and  I  have  heard  the  mournful 
 tidings  of  my  dear  mother’s  death.  My  mind  was 
 very  deeply  affected  by  this  event  at  first ;  and  1  felt 
 that  my  only  refuge  was  that  strength  of  my  almighty 
 Saviour  for  which  I  have  so  often  pleaded,  with 
 particular  reference  to  these  distressing  providences. 
 
 I  think  I  felt  that  his  grace  supported  me.  But 
 to-night  I  am  called  to  weeping  and  lamentation, 
 not  for  the  death  ol  another  friend,  but  for  my  sins. 
 These  are  so  numerous  and  so  powerful,  that  1 
 groan,  being  burdened.  I  have  to  contend  with  le¬ 
 gions  ol  inward  enemies,  who  are  ready  to  devour  all 
 that  is  in  me  of  uprightness  and  holiness.  Espe¬ 
 cially  a  spirit  ol  selfishness,  which  creeps  into  all  my 
 duties  and  desires,  poisoning  and  polluting  all,  has 
 been  to-night  extremely  distressing.  My  heart  is 
 pained  within  me  for  deliverance.  This  temper  is 
 as  opposite  to  the  temper  ol  heaven  as  any  thing 
 that  can  be  supposed.  It  is  the  prolific  parent,  from 
 which  proceed  the  murmurings  and  envyings,  the 
 strife  and  debate,  the  whisperings  and  backbitings, 
 and  the  nameless  host  of  evil  passions,  which  distract 
 the  world,  and  agonize  the  people  of  God.  In 
 
217 
 
 my  own  case  the  outward  manifestation  has  been 
 graciously  prevented;  but  God  knows  how,  like  a 
 fierce  lion,  though  bound  I  humbly  hope,  it  has 
 been  raging  im  my  heart,  and  striving  for  the  victory. 
 And  shall  I  be  one  day  delivered?  Yes,  if  I  ever 
 reach  heaven.  How  inexpressibly  delightful  is  the 
 prospect !  Blessed  God,  let  me  not  come  short  of 
 this  rest. 
 
 17.  I  feel  an  ardent  desire  to  redeem  the  time 
 more  faithfully.  The  greater  part  of  my  past  life 
 looks  like  a  miserable  waste  of  this  precious  talent. 
 How  little  that  was  purely  religious  have  I  done  ! 
 Though  my  life  has  been  active,  alas  !  it  has  not 
 been  active  for  God.  I  long  to  reduce  my  religious 
 principles  to  a  system,  that  shall  make  them  bear 
 upon  all  that  I  do.  This  would  not  be  so  extremely 
 difficult  if  my  heart  were  right.  Oh  !  when  will  the 
 time  come  that  I  shall  do  more  faithfully  the  work 
 to  which  God  has  called  me  ?  When  shall  I  have 
 a  constant  reference  to  divine  things,  in  the  daily 
 round  of  my  duties  ? 
 
 21.  I  think  I  have  felt  to-day  some  strength  of 
 purpose  to  follow  hard  after  God,  till  these  legions 
 of  indwelling  sins  are  subdued.  How  inexpressibly 
 delightful  heaven  looks,  where  they  never,  never  sin  ! 
 But  oh  !  can  such  a  one  as  I  hope  for  this  blessed¬ 
 ness?  If  this  vile  heart  is  a  temple  of  the  Holy 
 Ghost,  God  will  at  last  lay  the  top-stone,  amidst 
 the  shoutings  of  66  Grace,  grace  unto  it,”  from  both 
 angels  and  men.  Let  me  then  take  courage,  apply 
 for  strength  to  my  great  High  Priest,  and  not  faint 
 in  the  time  of  trial.  God  will  not  suffer  me  to 
 
 41 
 
 K 
 
218 
 
 perish  by  the  hands  of  my  enemies.  Let  me  resolve 
 to  wrestle,  and  strive,  and  agonize,  against  my  sins, 
 and  never  give  over  the  conflict  till  I  have  obtained 
 the  victory.  Keep  me  waiting  on  thee,  O  Thou 
 help  of  my  soul  !  and  I  shall  receive  courage,  and 
 shall  conquer.* 
 
 22.  If  I  am  not  deceived,  I  do  feel  the  precious¬ 
 ness  of  a  throne  of  grace,  something  of  a  contrite 
 spirit  in  view  of  myself,  and  a  sincere  desire  never, 
 never  again  to  sink  into  that  dreadful  worldly  frame 
 in  which  I  have  been  of  late,  but  from  which,  for 
 ever  blessed  be  his  name  !  God  has  granted  me  a 
 partial  deliverance.  My  heart  is  affected  by  the 
 long-suffering  and  forbearance  of  my  God.  I  do 
 long  to  be  an  humble,  obedient  child.  My  prevail¬ 
 ing  emotions  are,  I  think,  grief  and  sorrow  that  I 
 am  not  more  humble  and  broken-hearted.  The  tears 
 of  penitence  are  refreshing  tears,  yes,  they  are  re¬ 
 freshing  tears.  Oh  to  shed  more  of  them,  to  weep 
 for  my  sins  from  my  inmost  soul !  And  now,  oh  my 
 Helper  !  give  me  strong  purpose  of  mind,  and  assist 
 
 *  In  this  extract,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  remark,  is  exhibited 
 the  legitimate  influence  of  the  doctrine  of  the  perseverance  of  the 
 saints.  “  It  is  not  designed  to  comfort  even  true  Christians  iri 
 sloth  and  lukewarmness;  it  being  much  better  for  them,  in  such 
 a  state,  to  be  put  in  great  fear;  but  to  cheer  the  diligent,  active, 
 thriving  Christian,  in  his  conflict  with  Satan  and  the  corruptions 
 of  his  own  heart;  that  while  fighting,  animated  by  the  assurance 
 of  victory,  he  may  fight  manfully,  when  otherwise  he  would  be 
 discouraged  by  fears  lest  all  should  be  in  vain.”  The  legitimate, 
 and,  when  rightly  received,  the  certain  influence  of  the  doctrine, 
 therefore,  is,  to  make  diligent,  active,  and  thriving  Christians. — 
 See  Letters  and  papers  of  the  late  Rev.  Thomas  Scott,  D.  IX 
 first  Boston  edition,  p.  262. 
 
°2 19 
 
 me  with  thy  almighty  grace,  to  cleave  unto  thee 
 henceforth  and  for  ever  ! 
 
 23.  I  still  feel  a  sweet  calm  within;  can  go  to 
 God  the  Father,  as  my  reconciled  Father  and  Friend ; 
 to  God  the  Son,  as  my  compassionate  and  almighty 
 Redeemer;  to  God  the  Spirit,  as  my  Sanctifier, 
 Comforter,  and  Guide.  I  feel  a  strong  desire  to 
 hate  sin  more,  to  resist  it  more,  to  watch  against  its 
 first  aim  at  dominion,  to  strike  a  firm  and  effectual 
 blow  against  its  power,  and  its  very  existence  in  my 
 heart.  Blessed  Spirit ! 
 
 I  hate  the  sins  which  made  Thee  mourn, 
 
 And  drove  Thee  from  my  breast ! 
 
 February  12.  What  a  poor  dying  world  is  this  ! 
 Strange  I  should  ever  feel  at  rest  here,  as  if  this  were 
 my  home,  and  my  dear  enjoyments  were  secured  to 
 me  for  a  long  time  to  come  !  My  friends  are  all 
 dying,  or  losing  friends ;  and  we  are  all  hastening 
 to  eternity,  fast,  very  fast. — I  am  anxious  about  my 
 dear  husband.  His  lungs  have  been  very  tender  of 
 late ;  he  has  a  severe  cold,  and  is  afflicted  with  a  pain 
 in  his  side.  These  things,  viewed  in  connexion  with 
 his  numerous  and  arduous  duties,  alarm  me  much. 
 But  I  desire  to  leave  all  with  God.  He  hath  done, 
 he  will  do,  all  things  well.  Such  an  event  as  my 
 husband’s  death,  the  almighty  grace  of  God  alone 
 could  prepare  me  for,  or  carry  me  through.  The 
 very  thought  seems  too  burdensome  for  a  worm  like 
 me.  But  whatever  of  trial  my  God  may  call  me  to 
 in  this  vale  of  tears,  I  can  only  plead  that  he  will 
 sustain  me,  and  enable  me  to  glorify  his  holy  name. 
 
 K  2 
 
220 
 
 March  9.  I  have  heard  a  remark  to-day  respect¬ 
 ing  myself,  calculated  to  give,  and  which  has  actually 
 given  me  pain.  It  was,  that  I  could  not  bear  to  be 
 contradicted.  I  am  sincerely  desirous  to  profit  bv 
 this  observation.  I  hope  it  will  not  he  lost.  I  pray 
 God  to  enable  me  to  improve  by  it.  I  want  to  feel 
 a  noble,  Christian  superiority  to  human  opinion,  when 
 it  clashes  with  duty,  infringes  upon  the  claims  of  my 
 Master,  or  is,  in  any  way,  a  snare  to  me  in  my  pro¬ 
 gress  heavenward.  And  I  long,  when  there  is  any 
 ground  for  the  strictures  which  others  make  upon 
 me,  to  be  enabled  to  turn  them  to  profit,  and  to  re¬ 
 double  my  watchfulness  over  myself.  And,  alas  ! 
 alas  !  how  much  is  there  to  mend  which  the  world 
 does  not  see  !  I  am  overwhelmed  with  confusion  in 
 view  of  some  parts  of  my  past  life.  Oh  to  live  more 
 holily  and  unblamably  in  time  to  come  ! 
 
 11.  It  is  a  common  remark,  that  the  characters 
 of  men  are,  for  the  most  part,  pretty  justly  appre¬ 
 ciated  ,  that  the  decisions  which  are  passed  upon 
 them,  by  the  great  tribunal  of  public  opinion,  are 
 usually  a  safe  standard  for  the  formation  of  private 
 judgment.  This  maybe  true  in  general;  and  yet 
 I  am  inclined  to  think  there  are  many  exceptions  to 
 the  rule.  A  man  may  have  the  reputation  of  being 
 generous.  And  why?  Because,  in  a  few  showy 
 and  popular  instances,  he  has  been  so;  while  his 
 private  life  may  have  been  marked  with  all  the  bit¬ 
 terness  of  a  mean  and  parsimonious  economy.  The 
 world  are  apt  to  judge  of  a  man’s  character  by  a  few 
 splendid  acts,  or  lamentable  miscarriages.  This  is 
 especially  the  case  with  those  who  are  not  accustomed 
 
221 
 
 to  follow  the  man,  with  the  accuracy  of  a  discrimi¬ 
 nating  observation,  to  his  family,  where  the  stimulus 
 of  public  inspection  has  subsided,  and  see  what  he 
 is  there. 
 
 I  think  it  can  never  be  pressed  too  earnestly  upon 
 the  young,  that  character  is  not  what  a  person  does, 
 or  is,  once  a  year,  or  once  in  half  a  dozen  years,  but 
 what  he  is  and  does  habitually.  A  very  generous 
 man  may,  from  mistake,  or  from  some  other  cause, 
 do  what  wall  appear  the  excess  of  littleness.  A  very 
 meek  man  may,  from  the  pressure  of  perplexing  cir¬ 
 cumstances,  get  so  much  off  his  guard,  as  to  utter 
 things  unadvised  and  improper,  which  he  would  weep 
 tears  of  blood  to  recall.  A  very  humble  man  may 
 be  placed,  by  the  imputation  of  charges  which  he 
 knows  to  be  false,  in  a  situation  so  irksome,  as  to  in¬ 
 duce  him  to  defend  himself,  with  a  tone  and  manner 
 entirely  foreign  from  the  general  disposition  and  habit 
 of  his  mind.  Now  these  striking  overt  acts  are  often 
 those  which  are  laid  hold  of  by  the  world,  and  deter¬ 
 mine  its  judgment  upon  character.  It  is  extremely 
 important  that  children  should  be  early  taught  to 
 distinguish  between  appearances  and  realities;  else 
 they  will  be  continually  in  danger  of  adopting  the 
 egregious  follies  and  palpable  corruptions  of  persons, 
 whose  few  splendid  virtues  may  have  excited  their 
 admiration,  and  of  avoiding  an  acquaintance  with  per¬ 
 sons  the  most  worthy,  because  a  few  weaknesses  or 
 inconsistencies,  appearing  in  their  behaviour,  have 
 produced  disgust.  Nothing,  in  such  a  world  as  this, 
 can  be  more  foolish  than  to  renounce  a  friend,  be¬ 
 cause  we  have  found  him  to  be  imperfect. 
 
q%<2 
 
 April  4.  I  have  lately  had  many  fears  that  my 
 heart  has  never  been  thoroughly  humbled,  that  I 
 have  never  been  made  to  see  the  righteousness  of 
 God  in  threatening  eternal  punishment  as  the  reward 
 of  sin,  especially  of  my  sins.  I  fear  I  have  never 
 seen  the  real  desert  of  sin.  This  I  esteem  exceed¬ 
 ingly  important.  I  am  apprehensive  that  though 
 many  say  they  feel  that  they  deserve  everlasting 
 misery,  it  is  oftep  an  inconsiderate  assent  to  a  gene¬ 
 rally  acknowledged  truth,  rather  than  an  inwrought 
 conviction,  produced  by  the  Holy  Spirit.  I  long  to 
 have  my  mind  more  enlightened  on  this  subject. 
 \et  the  government  of  God  appears  to  me  a  most 
 righteous,  holy,  wise,  benevolent,  and  perfect  govern¬ 
 ment.  I  think  I  rejoice  in  it.  If  I  do  not,  I  cannot 
 say  what  I  rejoice  in.  I  think  I  see  and  feel  that 
 the  blessed  God  could  not,  consistently  with  the  hon¬ 
 our  of  his  law  and  the  welfare  of  his  kingdom,  take 
 the  sinner  to  heaven  in  an  unsanctified  state.  The 
 idea  of  never  obtaining  the  rest  that  remaineth  for 
 the  people  of  God,  of  never  being  conformed  to  the 
 image  of  my  Saviour,  is  heart-rending.  I  have  not 
 taken  up  my  rest  in  this  world.  I  do  long  for  holi¬ 
 ness,  for  the  holy  employments  and  joys  of  heaven. 
 In  giving  up  the  hope  of  being  made  complete  in  the 
 likeness  of  God,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  should  give 
 up  all  that  makes  life  supportable. 
 
 8.  1  he  case  of  our  dear  church  and  people  has 
 lain  upon  my  mind  this  morning,  with  even  more 
 weight  than  that  of  my  own  children.  I  feel  that 
 I  must  plead  earnestly  and  perseveringly  with  God, 
 that  he  will  be  pleased  to  glorify  himself  in  the 
 
223 
 
 spirituality  and  enlargement  of  this  church.  Oh  that 
 it  may  be  a  pure,  strong,  and  beautiful  temple  of  the 
 Lord  Jesus  Christ !  Some  particular  circumstances 
 have  thrown  a  shade  over  my  mind.  But  I  do  feel 
 as  if  I  could  follow  after  God  to  overrule  whatever 
 appears  dark  or  unpropitious,  not  only  for  his  own 
 glory,  but  for  our  spiritual  good.  And  oh  that  he 
 would  be  graciously  pleased  to  spare  my  dear  husband, 
 and  enable  him  to  gather  in  the  spiritual  harvest  that 
 appears  to  be  at  hand !  Twenty  or  thirty  in  our 
 congregation  are  inquiring.  Lord  !  disappoint  not 
 our  hopes.  Purge  out  and  destroy  whatever  does, 
 or  would  hinder  the  work  !  And  pour  out  a  bless¬ 
 ing  upon  us,  till  there  shall  not  be  room  enough  to 
 receive  it. 
 
 May  2.  I  have  enjoyed  some  comfortable  mani¬ 
 festations  of  Christ  as  the  intercessor  of  his  people, 
 which  have  diffused  a  precious  tranquillity  over  my 
 mind  for  many  days.  To  think  of  him  as  the  spiri¬ 
 tual  Aaron,  who,  having  put  away  sin  by  the  sacri¬ 
 fice  of  himself,  now  stands,  and  will  ever  stand,  in 
 the  inner  temple,  to  bear  all  the  names,  and  cases, 
 and  wants  of  his  people,  as  Aaron  bore  on  his  breast¬ 
 plate  the  names  of  the  twelve  tribes,  is  sweet  indeed  ! 
 
 1 
 
 TO  A  BROTHER-IN-LAW  AT  B.* 
 
 Boston ,  Mayf  1818. 
 
 You  ask  how  I  like  Cecil’s  Remains.  Much, 
 for  the  most  part ;  but  there  appears  to  have  been 
 
 •  This  extract  was  published  in  the  Boston  Recorder  of  June 
 
 2,  1818. 
 
224 
 
 something  of  severity  in  his  character,  something 
 
 more  of  the  determined  scholar  than  the  amiable 
 Christian. 
 
 I  am  not  pleased  with  his  remarks  upon  my  sex. 
 I  :iis,  you  will  say,  is  a  matter  of  course.  How— 
 cver,  if  I  am  not  deceived,  I  object  to  his  insinua¬ 
 tions,  not  as  a  woman,  but  as  a  Christian;  as  a 
 member  of  God’s  universal  family,  and  as  a  friend  to 
 tiie  interests  of  both  sexes;  having,  I  humbly  be¬ 
 lieve,  learned,  in  view  of  this  subject,  to  cease  from 
 man  whose  breath  is  in  his  nostrils,  and  to  feel  that 
 ii  any  one  would  be  honourable  in  God’s  view,  he 
 must  be  willing  to  become  nothing. 
 
 In  his  remarks  on  the  marriage  of  ministers, 
 Mr.  Cecil  says,  “  A  minister  must  stand  in  his 
 own  ground  when  associating  with  women,  and  not 
 descend  to  mingle  among  them.”  “  Thought  is 
 the  characterizing  feature  ol  men,  and  feeling  of 
 women.”  By  the  first  remark,  does  Mr.  C.  intend 
 to  say,  that  a  minister  must  not  bring  himself  to  a 
 level  with  the  giddy,  the  volatile,  the  thoughtless  of 
 our  sex  ?  Or  does  he  mean  that  all  women  are  so  ? 
 My  opinion  has  been,  that,  by  cultivating  habits  of 
 rational  intercourse  between  the  sexes,  the  real  good 
 of  both  parties  would  be  promoted ;  that  the  men 
 would  become  more  social  and  refined,  without  losing 
 their  strength,  and  the  women  more  sound,  without 
 losing  their  gentleness. 
 
 Is  not  the  tendency  of  the  above  remarks  likely 
 to  be  unfavourable  to  both  sexes  ?  Are  they  not 
 calculated  to  produce  in  the  minds  of  men  an  over¬ 
 weening  opinion  of  their  own  importance,  a  loftiness 
 of  spirit,  contrary  to  the  temper  of  the  meek  and 
 
225 
 
 lowly  Jesus,  and  inimical  to  the  growth  of  religion 
 in  the  soul?  Are  they  not  likely  to  be  equally 
 deteriorating  in  their  influence  on  the  female  mind  ? 
 Will  not  the  woman  infer,  that  if  the  case  be  so,  it 
 is  not  necessary  for  her  to  cultivate  her  mental 
 powers ;  that  she  may  as  well  confine  her  views  and 
 her  thoughts,  so  far  as  she  thinks  at  all,  to  that  con¬ 
 tracted  sphere  comprehended  under  that  general  term 
 self,  as  to  endeavour  to  expand  her  benevolence  by 
 enlarging  her  knowledge  ?  Will  she  not  be  in 
 danger  of  becoming  the  despicable  slave  of  a  morbid 
 sensibility,  which  she  has  not  learned  to  control,  by 
 being  told  that  she  was  made  for  feeling  rather  than 
 reflection  ?  Alas  !  how  can  woman,  subject  to  the 
 accumulated  vexations  of  outward  temptation  and 
 constitutional  frailty,  be  expected  to  endure  the  evils 
 of  life  with  firmness,  when  the  whole  tendency  of  her 
 education  has  been  to  enervate  the  energies  of  the 
 mind,  induce  loose  habits  of  thinking,  and  undermine 
 the  government  of  reason  ? 
 
 But  the  chief  objection  I  have  to  Mr.  Cecil’s  re¬ 
 marks  on  this  subject  is,  that  they  are  calculated  to 
 deprive  women  of  that  respect  in  their  own  families, 
 which  is  necessary  to  the  proper  management  of 
 children.  Now  this  I  deem  of  incalculable  impor¬ 
 tance.  Let  the  sons  of  a  family  lose  their  respect 
 for  their  mother,  and  it  will  be  utterly  impossible  for 
 a  substitute  for  natural  authority  to  be  found.  I  do 
 not  hesitate  to  say,  (and  I  do  not  say  it  rashly,  or 
 without  much  examination  of  the  subject,)  that 
 those- families,  where  the  character  of  the  mother  is 
 depressed  to  that  of  a  mere  housekeeper,  are  never 
 well  governed ;  and  that,  on  the  contrary,  the  sons  of 
 
 k  3 
 
those  mothers,  whose  rank  in  the  family  authorizes 
 them  to  be  counsellors  of  their  children,  are  in  child¬ 
 hood  more  amiable,  and  in  manhood  more  worthy, 
 than  others.  If  children  are  not  under  the  govern¬ 
 ment  of  their  mothers,  they  must  necessarily  be  left 
 very  much  to  their  own  guidance,  and  exposed  to 
 early  associations  unfriendly  to  virtue.  Their  char¬ 
 acters  will  be  mostly  formed  by  the  influence  of  ad¬ 
 ventitious  circumstances ;  unless,  indeed,  the  father 
 can  oversee  them  constantly,  which  is  rarely  the  case. 
 The  father  requires  the  boy  to  obey  his  mother,  and 
 perhaps  gives  him  long  lessons  on  the  subject ;  but  of 
 how  much  weight  they  will  be,  in  turning  the  scale 
 between  duty  and  inclination,  when  the  child  sees  that 
 the  father  does  not  respect  her  himself,  it  requires 
 but  little  sagacity  to  conjecture.  The  habit  of  trifling, 
 of  dissimulation,  and  of  rebellion,  is  thus  acquired ; 
 and,  if  grace  effect  an  alteration  in  the  state  of  the 
 heart  afterwards,  it  certainly  operates  under  circum¬ 
 stances  unfavourable  to  its  growth. 
 
 <D 
 
 There  is  also  another  evil  resulting  from  the 
 opinion  above  stated.  It  is  the  interruption  of 
 domestic  peace.  Such  an  opinion  introduces  pride, 
 and  pertinacity,  and  imperiousness,  on  the  one  hand, 
 and  jealousy  and  enmity  on  the  other,  among  brothers 
 and  sisters;  and,  in  this  way,  is  destructive  of  the 
 best  principles  and  affections  of  our  nature. 
 
 I  here  are  those  who  think,  that  if  women  are 
 treated  as  equals,  they  will  aspire  to  dominion,  or 
 will  not  6e  be  in  subjection,  with  reverence, ”  to  their 
 husbands.  I  am  of  a  contrary  opinion.  We  can 
 never  yield  unwillingly,  when  we  think  the  duty  of 
 doing  so  is  unquestionable.  But  we  always  give 
 
227 
 
 with  the  worst  grace,  what  is  extorted.  We  are 
 always  the  most  generous  when  left  free.  The 
 enlightened  obedience  of  a  sensible  woman  is  con¬ 
 sistent,  because  it  is  the  dictate  of  reason ;  it  is  seen 
 to  be  necessary,  in  the  constitution  of  things,  and 
 for  the  preservation  of  order  in  the  various  depart¬ 
 ments  of  the  creation  of  God.  The  capricious  sub¬ 
 jection  of  a  weak  and  ill-informed  woman,  is  that  of 
 a  slave ;  and,  not  being  properly  conceived  of,  in  the 
 first  place,  is  likely  to  be  disputed,  or  submitted  to 
 with  reluctance. 
 
 But  nothing  can  be  more  idle  than  to  dispute  the 
 point  of  equality  with  our  brethren.  Time  is  too 
 short  to  waste  in  this  way.  And  besides,  by  society 
 at  large,  every  individual  will,  generally,  be  respected 
 in  proportion  to  his  merits.  If  we  would  have  influ¬ 
 ence,  we  must  prove,  in  the  first  place,  that  we  de¬ 
 serve  it.  But  every  one  in  his  order.  The  mo¬ 
 ment  a  woman  steps  out  of  her  proper  sphere,  she 
 ceases  to  be,  in  proportion  to  her  deviation  from  the 
 path  prescribed  her,  either  amiable  or  respectable. 
 And  in,  my  judgment,  were  women  blessed  with  an 
 enlightened  education,  and  taught  to  view  the  sub¬ 
 ject  of  female  subordination  in  a  philosophical  and 
 scriptural  way,  they  would  not  only  be  much  greater 
 helpers  and  blessings  to  their  husbands  and  children, 
 but  in  much  less  danger  of  usurping  that  authority 
 which  God  and  nature  have  delegated  to  the  other 
 
 sex. 
 
228 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  BOSTON. 
 
 My  dear  Mrs. 
 
 Netv  Haven ,  July  21,  1818. 
 
 .  “  Be  not  faithless,  but  be¬ 
 
 lieving, ”  is  an  injunction,  obedience  to  which  would 
 contribute  as  much  to  our  happiness  as  to  the  glory 
 of  God.  But,  though  I  fear  the  state  of  my  mind 
 is  not  more  distinguished  by  the  grace  of  faith  than 
 when  I  left  Boston,  I  do  not  feel  the  same  anxious 
 solicitude  about  my  family  which  I  did  then. 
 
 The  mind,  1  suppose,  cannot  be  strongly  exercised 
 on  one  subject,  when  it  is  constantly  and  powerfully 
 affected  by  many  separate  and  remote  interests.  I 
 have  been  passing  so  rapidly  from  one  scene  to  another, 
 and  have  felt  so  many  different  emotions  since  I  left 
 home,  that  I  have  scarcely  had  an  opportunity  to  be 
 anxious.  While  I  was  at  New  London,  my  time 
 was  entirely  occupied  with  attentions  to  our  sick  fa- 
 
 thei ;  and  since  I  left  that  place,  I  have  been  scarcely 
 less  engaged. 
 
 I  fear,  my  dear  friend,  that  I  shall  return,  know¬ 
 ing  that  I  have  done  little  or  no  good  on  my  journey. 
 M  ere  it  not  that  I  do  not  like  speaking  about  my¬ 
 self,  I  could  fill  my  sheet  with  an  account  of  my 
 great  stupidity  and  unfruitfulness.  But  it  would 
 no  no  good.  And,  as  such  complaints  are  often 
 mistaken  for  humility,  it  is,  perhaps,  well  to  make 
 them  but  seldom.  To  our  Christian  friends  we  may, 
 to  be  sure,  speak  of  our  spiritual  sorrows,  without 
 much  danger  of  being  misunderstood.  I  believe 
 Christians,  in  general,  are  lamentably  deficient  in 
 Uvmg  the  religion  they  profess.  It  is  easy  to  talk  ; 
 
229 
 
 it  is  not  difficult  to  profess ;  but  to  do — to  do  justly, 
 to  love  mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  with  our  God, 
 is  quite  another  thing.  When  we  compare  our 
 feelings  with  the  experience  of  prophets  and  apostles, 
 how  faint  a  resemblance  do  we  find !  And  yet 
 religion  is  the  same  now  as  ever,  the  demands  of 
 God  as  universal,  and  our  obligations  as  great  and 
 binding. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  N.  H. 
 
 Ne  10  London ,  Ang.  4,  1818. 
 
 My  dear  E.  when  I  took  up  my  pen,  I  hesitated 
 for  a  moment  whether  my  letter  should  be  for 
 Boston  or  New  Haven.  Inclination  for  the  latter 
 prevailed.  I  will  not  say  New  Haven  friends  were 
 never  so  dear  to  me  as  now.  That  were  idle.  But 
 I  may  say,  that  I  feel  an  awakened  interest  in  them 
 at  present,  which  a  long  separation  from  them  had, 
 perhaps,  somewhat  blunted.  I  think  an  occasional 
 visit  to  a  place  we  have  once  loved,  and  which  is  the 
 residence  of  early  friends,  is  desirable,  to  keep  alive, 
 if  not  the  enthusiasm  of  youthful  attachments,  those 
 warmer  endearments  of  the  heart,  by  which  it  dis¬ 
 criminates  some  places,  and  some  persons,  from  the 
 rest  of  the  world. 
 
 I  have  been  thinking,  my  dear  friend,  about  the 
 weakness  of  your  eyes.  I  am  sorry  you  should  be 
 tried  in  this  way  upon  your  first  setting  out  in  life. 
 And  yet,  if  you  are  a  Christian,  God  loves  you 
 infinitely  better  than  I  do ;  and  he  might  prevent  it 
 if  he  chose.  Now  if  he  does  not  prevent  it,  he  sees 
 that  you  could  not  do  without  this  trial.  When 
 
230 
 
 you  can  he  will  remove  it.  O  how  sweet  is  the 
 i  ejection,  that  the  work  of  the  Lord  is  ((  perfect 
 that  all  his  ways  are  faithfulness  and  mercy;  that  all 
 his  dispensations  shall  work  together  for  good  to 
 them  that  love  him  !— As  to  this  world,  we  shall 
 both  experience  many  interesting,  and,  perhaps,  what 
 may  be  deemed  adverse,  vicissitudes.  But  if  they 
 ripen  us  for  a  place  at  God’s  right  hand,  it  is  well. 
 W  bile  we  can  look  at  the  things  which  are  not  seen 
 and  eternal,  every  burden  will  be  lightened,  every 
 sorrow  sweetened.  If  we  are  Christians,  we  are 
 passing  through  a  wilderness  to  heaven ;  and  though 
 God  may  give  us  many  precious  comforts  here,  it  is 
 but  a  wilderness  still.  I  long  habitually  to  view  it 
 so;  to  realize  my  mercies,  to  enjoy  them  rationally; 
 but  to  feel  that  while  I  am  at  home  in  the  body  I 
 am  absent  from  the  Lord. 
 
 September  5.  At  Boston.  O  how  time  flies  !  And 
 how  many  painful  scenes  have  I  passed  through  since 
 I  last  wrote  in  my  journal !  I  have  been  particularly 
 tried  in  the  death  of  Mrs.  C.  a  member  of  our 
 church,  a  woman  very  dear  to  my  heart,  and  a  lovely 
 Christian.  I  have  also  been  seven  weeks  in  Con¬ 
 necticut,  to  visit  my  husband’s  sick,  and,  I  fear,  now 
 dying  father.  We  left  him  better.  But  he  is  again 
 worse ;  and  Mr.  Huntington  has  been  again  called 
 to  him,  and  is  now  there.  I  am  expecting,  every 
 day,  either  to  hear  that  his  father  is  mending,  or  to 
 receive  a  summons  to  New  London.  I  have  been 
 somewhat  dejected  in  mind  of  late,  from  another 
 cause.  My  husband’s  health  is  feeble ;  and  the  fear 
 that  he  will  have  to  leave  Boston,  or  soon  die  under 
 
23 1 
 
 his  labours  here,  has  hung  as  a  heavy  weight  upon 
 my  heart. 
 
 And  now,  what  shall  I  say  ?  Constituted  as  I 
 am  with  strong  feelings,  susceptible  nerves,  and  a 
 heart  prone  to  forebode  evil,  what  should  I  do  with¬ 
 out  religion  ?  This,  I  often  feel,  is  the  only  anchor 
 that  holds  me  from  drifting  into  the  gulf  of  despair. 
 Oh !  if  the  religion  of  Christ  were  false,  as  the  infidel 
 tries  to  make  us  think,  what  would  become  of  me  ? 
 Now,  when  labouring  with  grief,  and  at  times  ready 
 to  sink,  the  precious  truths  of  the  gospel  are  some¬ 
 times  sent  to  my  mind  for  my  relief,  with  an  efficacy 
 altogether  superior  to  any  other  sources  of  consola¬ 
 tion.  I  pillow  my  aching  head  on  its  precious  pro¬ 
 mises,  and  I  find  rest.  Oh,  my  God  !  why  dost 
 Thou  thus  fly  to  my  relief  ?  Why,  wretch  that  I 
 am  !  am  I  not  left  to  my  idols  ?  Break,  oh  break, 
 hard,  stony  heart,  at  the  long-suffering  of  thy  God  ! 
 
 And  now,  Lord !  I  would  trust  thee  for  the 
 future.  I  would  hate  and  forsake  the  sins  which 
 separate  my  soul  from  thee.  Blessed  Redeemer  ! 
 wilt  thou  not  strengthen  the  creature  that  longs  to 
 serve  thee  more  faithfully  ? 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  BOSTON. 
 
 New  London ,  Sept.  10,  1818. 
 
 My  dear  H.  I  arrived  here  in  safety  on  Wed¬ 
 nesday  evening.  Our  father  is  more  comfortable 
 than  I  expected  to  find  him,  though  pretty  certainly 
 approaching  his  end.  His  mind  is,  as  usual,  per¬ 
 fectly  quiet,  and  his  death  is  likely  to  be  as  peace¬ 
 ful,  as  his  life  has  been  exemplary.  I  think  we  can 
 
232 
 
 sometimes  see  the  good  effects  of  such  a  uniform, 
 consistent  life  of  piety  in  this  world,  in  a  gracious 
 reward,  corresponding  in  its  nature  to  the  course  of 
 life  pursued.  Although  salvation  is  neither  wholly 
 nor  in  part  of  works,  is  it  not  likely  that  a  careless, 
 worldly  life,  most  commonly  obscures  and  darkens 
 the  spiritual  prospects  even  of  the  Christian  in  his 
 last  moments  ? 
 
 October  5.  At  Boston .  My  husband  is  again  in 
 New  London.  His  father  has  gone  to  his  rest. 
 And  it  is  glorious.  Oh  to  be  accounted  worthy 
 to  enter  into  that  rest !  But  now  is  the  time  for 
 working.  Those  who  diligently  do  the  will  of  God 
 may  safely  leave  the  disposal  of  their  final  state  with 
 him.  I  know  that  my  heart  is,  beyond  all  expres¬ 
 sion,  deceitful.  But  I  do  long  to  be  able,  day  by 
 day,  to  stir  myself  up  to  take  hold  on  God  in  Christ, 
 to  keep  near  to  him,  to  live  upon  him,  and  to  glorify 
 him  in  my  body  and  spirit  which  are  his. 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  Y. 
 
 Boston ,  October  12,  1818. 
 
 Though  all  the  children  must  feel  the  loss  of 
 your  excellent  father,  yet  dear  mother  and  E.#  are 
 the  sufferers.  Death  seems  to  be  almost  another 
 thing,  where  an  immediate  view  of  all  with  which  a 
 departed  friend  was  connected,  is  constantly  presented 
 to  the  eye.  Yet  it  is  indeed,  in  itself,  heart-rending 
 
 A  sister-in-law,  residing  with  her  widowed  mother  at  New 
 London. 
 
233 
 
 to  behold  the  vacancies  which  the  hand  of  death 
 makes  in  a  family,  and  remember,  that  the  places 
 which  once  knew  the  absent  one,  will  know  him  no 
 more  for  ever.  But  if  we  loved  God  more,  and  had 
 more  faith,  we  should  not  be  so  much  affected  by 
 these  things. 
 
 Is  not  the  state  of  your  dear  father  an  enviable 
 one  ?  I  think  I  do  feel  that  it  is.  Who  can  tell 
 what  blessedness  it  is  to  be  perfectly  delivered  from 
 sin,  to  be  admitted  to  the  immediate  and  perfect 
 vision  of  God,  and  what  is  more,  to  be  made  complete 
 in  his  likeness  ?  Who  can  tell  what  blessedness  it 
 is  to  cast  off  that  body  of  death  which  cramps  and 
 clogs  all  our  spiritual  efforts  in  this  life ;  to  have  a 
 sanctified  understanding,  enlarged  so  as  to  know  even 
 as  we  are  known  ? 
 
 And  is  all  this  a  cunningly-devised  fable  ?  Oh 
 no  !  The  Christian  knows  that  his  Redeemer  liveth, 
 and  that,  if  his  hope  of  being  a  Christian  is  not  a 
 false  one,  he  shall  see  him  as  he  is.  Christianity 
 pours  a  flood  of  light  into  the  dark  valley  of  the 
 shadow  of  death ;  tells  the  soul,  about  to  leave  all  it 
 loved  here,  of  better  friends  and  better  joys  in  hea¬ 
 ven  ;  and  enables  it  to  say,  66  Thanks  be  to  God, 
 who  giveth  me  the  victory,  through  Jesus  Christ  my 
 Lord  !”  And  shall  we  not  labour  and  pray  that  this 
 religion  may  become  universal  ? 
 
 You  ask  about  Elizabeth:  she  is  no  better.  This 
 is  indeed  a  great  trial.  But  I  feel  that  God  has 
 made  it  very  light  compared  with  my  deserts.  We 
 must  all  have  trials ;  and  we  should  be  more  anxious 
 to  profit  by  them,  than  to  escape  them.  If  we  are 
 Christians,  we  shall  be  carried  safely  through  the 
 
£34 
 
 wilderness,  and  lodged,  at  last,  in  the  promised  land. 
 Let  us  pray  for  each  other,  that  we  may  not  come 
 short  of  that  rest. 
 
 TO  ANOTHER  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  October  12,  1818. 
 
 I  LEFT  New  London  with  deep  regret.  Not  that 
 1  flattered  myself  that  I  could  be  any  help  to  my 
 dear  friends  there,  (it  being  my  lot  to  receive,  rather 
 than  confer,  such  favours,)  but  because  I  felt  deeply 
 interested  for  them  in  their  trying  situation.  I  felt 
 that  kind  of  solicitude,  which  consists  in  a  painful 
 desire  to  know  all  that  takes  place  in  reference  to 
 those  we  love.  But  it  is  no  matter  now.  And  if 
 I  may  be  accounted  worthy  to  meet  the  object  of  the 
 concern  I  felt  in  heaven,  it  will  be  enough.  Dear 
 sister  !  if  we  are  heirs  of  God,  and  preparing  for  an 
 inheritance  among  the  saints  in  light,  oh  what  a 
 meeting  will  it  be  !  Surely  they  that  have  this  hope 
 should  endure  their  trials  with  patience,  and  should 
 purify  themselves  as  Christ  is  pure.  If  we  are  Chris¬ 
 tians,  a  few  more  conflicts,  and  trials,  and  sufferings, 
 and  we  also  shall  be  admitted  to  the  rest  that  remain¬ 
 ed!  for  the  people  of  God.  How  important  that  we 
 should  46  stir  ourselves  up  to  take  hold  on  God,”  lest 
 we  perish  through  our  supineness  and  unbelief! 
 
 It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  saved  !  It  is  a  wonder¬ 
 ful  thing  for  a  sinner  to  be  prepared  to  spend  an 
 eternity  with  a  holy  God  !  May  he  grant,  for  his 
 mercy’s  sake,  that  the  late  sorrowful  dispensation 
 may  be  a  rod  to  every  one  of  us,  gentle  indeed,  but 
 efficacious  to  drive  us  to  Him,  who  is  a  rock  of  de- 
 
235 
 
 fence,  a  strong  tower,  a  refuge  in  the  hour  of  trial 
 and  death  ?  I  feel  a  strong  desire  that  it  may  also 
 be  sanctified  to  your  church.  I  wish  to  have  them 
 feel,  that  a  mighty  one  has  fallen  among  them,  and 
 that  it  is  necessary  that  they  should  plead  earnestly 
 with  the  King  of  Zion,  to  let  the  mantle  of  this 
 ascended  Elijah  fall  on  those  who  are  left  behind. 
 The  death  of  such  a  man  is  a  great  loss  to  the 
 church.  But  God  can  raise  up  many  such.  He 
 will,  however,  be  inquired  of,  by  his  spiritual  Israel, 
 to  do  this  thing  for  them. 
 
 Remember  me  affectionately  to  our  dear  mother, 
 and  tell  her  I  think  much  of  her,  and  hope  she  will 
 find,  that  the  absence  of  the  dear  friend  who  was 
 with  her  so  long,  is  more  than  made  up,  in  the  pre¬ 
 sence  of  that  God,  who  has  graciously  styled  himself 
 the  husband  and  judge  of  the  widow. 
 
 His  arm  can  well  sustain 
 
 The  children  of  his  love  ! 
 
 October  16.  I  called  in  by  accident,  as  we  say, 
 to-day,  at  a  miserable-looking  house,  where  I  found 
 a  poor  afflicted  woman,  of  twenty  or  twenty-three 
 years  of  age,  whose  case  affected  me  much.  She 
 has  one  child  three  months  old,  and  one  eighteen 
 months  old ;  is  in  miserable  health  herself ;  and  has 
 an  intemperate,  unkind  husband.  She  appeared 
 broken-hearted,  and  almost  bereft  of  reason.  She 
 
 was  born  in - ,  attended  Mr.  M.’s  ministry,  and 
 
 was  once  the  subject  of  serious  impressions.  But 
 an  imprudent  marriage  has  ruined  her,  at  least  for 
 this  world.  She  is  in  a  wretched,  dirty  hovel,  with 
 her  husband’s  father  and  mother,  and  a  flock  of 
 
236 
 
 miserable  children.  All  of  them  are  addicted  to 
 drink ;  quarrels  among  parents  and  children  till  mid¬ 
 night  are  frequent.  I  saw  only  the  mother-in-law. 
 L>ut  the  scene  I  witnessed  was  an  emblem  of  hell. 
 The  poor  young  woman  is  in  a  state  little  short  of 
 despair.  She  says  it  is  impossible  for  her  to  have  a 
 moment  alone,  and  that  her  husband,  and  mother- 
 in-law,  will  not  let  her  read  the  Bible.  She  said  to 
 me,  u  Oh  !  if  I  could  go  up  and  stay  at  your  house 
 but  one  night !”  It  seemed  as  if  God  had  directed 
 us  to  the  place — I  hope  for  good.  I  cannot  keep 
 this  poor  young  creature  out  of  my  mind.  If  God 
 sent  us  there  to  be  the  instruments  of  saving  this 
 soul  from  death,  what  a  mercy  it  will  be  !  Oh  that 
 the  Redeemer  would  pluck  this  helpless  one  out  of 
 the  jaws  of  the  lion  ! 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  P. 
 
 Boston ,  October  17,  1818. 
 
 Must  not  every  Christian  feel,  that  no  stripes 
 which  his  heavenly  Father  inflicts  are  any  thing  to 
 him,  compared  with  the  conflicts  he  has  to  maintain 
 with  a  heart  of  unbelief,  and  a  nature  prone  to  evil  ? 
 When  we  are  enabled  to  look  steadily  at  the  things 
 which  are  not  seen  and  eternal,  and,  what  is  more, 
 to  place  our  affections  upon  them,  how  it  smooths 
 the  roughness  of  this  world ;  how  it  lightens  every 
 burden,  and  sends  us  on  our  way  rejoicing ! 
 
 I  do  not  know,  however,  but  we  are  in  some  dan¬ 
 ger  ot  calculating  too  much  upon  our  enjoyments 
 hei even  our  spiritual  enjoyments.  I  suppose  we 
 should  be  more  solicitous  to  do  the  will  of  God,  and 
 
237 
 
 glorify  him,  and  benefit  those  about  us,  than  to  ob¬ 
 tain  even  spiritual  comfort.  Perhaps,  however,  I 
 am  wrong  in  thus  separating  duty  and  comfort,  even 
 in  contemplation ;  for  the  most  direct  way ,  the  only 
 effectual  way ,  to  obtain  and  'preserve  spiritual  com¬ 
 fort ,  is  to  be  diligent  and  constant  in  the  performance 
 of  all  known  duty.  If  we  faithfully  aim  to  do  the 
 will  of  God,  he  will,  in  his  own  time  and  way,  make 
 our  fidelity  yield  us  the  peaceable  fruit  of  righteous¬ 
 ness.  And  should  we  not  be  willing  that  he  should 
 do  it  in  his  own  time  and  way?  We  instruct  our 
 children,  we  pray  for  them,  we  pour  on  them  the 
 strength  and  agony  of  our  solicitude ;  and  then  we, 
 probably,  expect  the  comfort  of  seeing  some  fruit  of 
 all  this.  And  we  should  expect  to  see  it;  but  in 
 God’s  time  and  way.  It  is  ours  to  labour  and  pray ; 
 all  the  rest  let  us  leave  with  him. 
 
 The  greatest  outward  trial  I  have  at  present,  is 
 the  state  of  my  dear  husband’s  health.  Not  that 
 he  has  any  fixed  complaint ;  but  he  is  constantly 
 predisposed  to  a  cold  and  hoarseness,  which,  for  a 
 minister,  in  this  age  and  in  this  climate,  is  very 
 much  to  be  dreaded.  I  believe  your  husband  has 
 been  affected  in  this  way.  Did  you  not  find  it  more 
 difficult  to  exercise  faith  and  submission  then  than 
 at  any  other  period  of  your  life  ?  <£  My  son,”  saith 
 
 God,  ct  despise  not  thou  the  chastening  of  the  Lord, 
 nor  faint  when  thou  art  rebuked  of  him.”  In  con¬ 
 templating  the  afflictions  of  life,  I  feel  more  afraid 
 of  fainting  than  of  any  thing  else.  Perhaps  I  ac¬ 
 tually  am  in  most  danger  of  rebelling,  perhaps  of 
 despising ;  for  my  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things, 
 and  desperately  wicked.  But  I  know  that  I  am 
 
238 
 
 weak,  weakness  itself.  And  were  it  not  for  the 
 humble  hope,  that  help,  my  help,  is  laid  on  One 
 who  is  mighty,  not  only  for  salvation  but  for  strength, 
 to  do,  to  bear,  to  suffer,  I  cannot  say  where  I  should 
 go,  what  I  should  do. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  N. 
 
 Boston ,  November  3,  1818. 
 
 I  am  unwilling  that  Mr.  B.  should  return,  with¬ 
 out  bearing  to  you  the  expressions  of  our  sincere 
 sympathy  in  your  present  affliction,  without  telling 
 you  how  truly  we  are  concerned  for  your  sorrow ; 
 and  that  we  are  not  without  strong  hopes  of  our 
 
 dear - ’s  final  and  perfect  restoration.*  I  knew 
 
 a  young  lady,  several  years  since,  in - ,  who  was 
 
 deranged  a  whole  summer,  and  was  restored,  without 
 the  slightest  symptom,  to  my  knowledge,  of  the  dis¬ 
 ease  since.  I  believe  I  mentioned  to  you,  when  we 
 
 were  last  at  your  house,  the  similar  case  of - ,  of 
 
 this  town.  She  is  now  perfectly  well. 
 
 But  after  all,  I  know,  (may  I  not  say,  by  expe¬ 
 rience  ?)  that  there  is  no  resting-place  short  of  a 
 cordial  willingness  to  have  God  do  what  he  pleases. 
 And  is  he  not  worthy  to  govern  ?  Are  not  our 
 interests,  and  those  of  our  dear  ones,  safer  in  his 
 hands  than  they  would  be  any  where  else  ?  So  long 
 as  he  has  infinite  love  for  his  children,  to  will  all  that 
 he  sees  to  be  best  for  them,  and  infinite  power  to 
 execute  all  the  purposes  of  his  will,  may  he  not 
 
 *  A  daughter  of  the  lady  to  whom  this  letter  was  written,  was 
 then  in  a  state  of  mental  derangement. 
 
<239 
 
 safely  be  trusted  ?  And  supposing  the  worst,  sup¬ 
 pose  it  should  please  God  to  conduct  our  dear - 
 
 through  the  whole  wilderness  of  life  under  the  shade 
 of  this  thick  cloud,  would  not  the  mercies  of  the 
 dispensation  infinitely  outweigh  its  calamities  ?  Is 
 she  not  beloved  of  our  heavenly  Father?  Has  he 
 not  pledged  his  honour,  that  all  things  shall  work 
 together  for  her  good?  Is  she  not  graven  as  a 
 signet  upon  his  heart  ?  Shall  she  not  be  led  in  a 
 right  way,  the  way  best  for  her  soul,  though  it  be 
 dark  and  inscrutable  to  us  ?  O  yes  !  Surely  He, 
 who,  for  her  sake,  spared  not,  but  delivered  up,  his 
 own  Son,  will  with  him  also  give  her  all  other  neces¬ 
 sary  things.  If  she  is  a  Christian,  as  we  have  good 
 reason  to  believe  she  is,  God  loves  her  far  better 
 than  we  do;  and  he  could,  if  he  chose,  remove  this 
 visitation  with  a  word.  If  he  does  not  remove  it,  it 
 will  be  because  he  has  good  and  merciful  reasons  for 
 its  continuance.  “  Wherefore,  lift  up  the  hands 
 which  hang  down,  and  the  feeble  knees.”  You  shall 
 one  day  see  that  all  this  is  mercy.  Trust  in  the 
 Lord,  and  you  shall  not  be  desolate. 
 
 November  10.  There  is  scarcely  a  more  morti¬ 
 fying  subject  of  contemplation  than  the  littleness  of 
 the  sum  total  of  human  greatness,  compared  with 
 the  capacity  of  man.  The  vast  majority  of  our 
 race  waste  their  powers  in  the  pursuit  of  objects 
 which  have  little  or  no  reference  to  the  improve¬ 
 ment  of  their  intellectual  and  moral  nature.  While 
 the  man  of  mere  business  is  pursuing,  with  a  zeal 
 worthy  of  the  Christian’s  imitation,  schemes  of  per¬ 
 sonal  emolument,  his  mind,  constantly  employed 
 
240 
 
 within  the  contracted  sphere  of  pecuniary  and  in¬ 
 terested  calculations,  becomes  almost  incapable  of 
 taking  a  free  and  extensive  range  of  observation. 
 Like  the  limb  enfeebled  by  want  of  exercise,  it 
 shrinks  from  every  unusual  effort ;  and  the  disposi¬ 
 tion  to  mental  exertion  declines,  as  it  is  found  to  be 
 laborious. 
 
 Though  all  cannot  be  supposed  to  possess  equal 
 advantages  for  the  cultivation  of  the  mental  faculties, 
 
 o 
 
 yet  most  possess  advantages  which,  duly  improved, 
 might  have  advanced  them  higher  in  the  scale  of 
 human  greatness  than  they  are.  The  daily  occur¬ 
 rences  of  life  furnish  an  infinite  variety  of  occasions 
 upon  which  the  wise  may  seize  as  means  of  improve¬ 
 ment.  The  difficulty  is  not  so  much  in  not  having 
 such  means,  as  in  the  want  of  the  ability  or  the  dis¬ 
 position  to  profit  by  them.  To  teach  us  how  to  do 
 this,  how  to  seize  upon  and  turn  to  the  best  account 
 every  means  of  improvement  with  which  we  are  fur¬ 
 nished  by  providence,  is,  or  ought  to  be,  the  great 
 end  of  education.  Whatever  we  have  learned,  if 
 we  have  not  learned  to  think ,  so  as  to  be  able  to 
 advance  ourselves  in  knowledge,  by  the  judicious 
 deductions  of  reason  in  reference  to  our  daily  cir¬ 
 cumstances,  the  most  important  of  all  knowledge  is 
 wanting,  that  of  knowing  how  to  educate  ourselves. 
 And  if  the  mind  is  not  accustomed  to  think  early , 
 there  is  danger  that  it  will  never  be  brought  to 
 think  at  all.  How  important,  then,  that  mothers 
 should  make  the  communication  of  ideas  their  prin¬ 
 cipal  object  in  instructing  their  children;  and  that 
 they  should  encourage  in  them  a  becoming  curiosity 
 to  know  the  reasons  and  uses  of  things,  and  induce 
 
241 
 
 them  to  exercise  their  judgments  upon  what  they 
 have  learned.  To  accomplish  these  designs,  in  refer¬ 
 ence  to  our  children,  is  indeed  no  easy  task.  But 
 are  not  the  benefits  to  be  derived  from  their  accom¬ 
 plishment  of  importance  enough  ?  and  is  there  not 
 sufficient  ground  to  hope  for  success  to  constitute  a 
 claim  to  more  attention,  and  effort,  and  prayer,  in 
 reference  to  them,  on  the  part  of  mothers,  than  they 
 commonly  receive  ? 
 
 18.  Pride  has  been  my  constant  foe,  ever  since  I 
 have  hoped  I  had  begun  the  Christian  race;  and  I 
 fear  it  ever  will  be.  Once,  when  I  was  the  mere  child 
 of  fiction  and  romance,  my  ambition  was  to  distinguish 
 myself  by  poetizing,  and  shining  as  an  authoress. 
 After  I  was  married,  and  was  taught  some  sharp  les¬ 
 sons,  my  great  desire  was  to  be  a  good,  plain,  common- 
 sense  woman;  a  good  wife,  good  mother,  good  mis¬ 
 tress,  good  Christian.  But  pride  besets  me  still. 
 
 Yet  I  do  hope  that  I  have  lately  learned  some 
 humbling  lessons,  been  made  to  feel  my  dependence 
 on  God  for  the  exercise  of  reason,  and  to  receive  it 
 daily  as  a  fresh  gift  at  his  hand.  I  do  hope  pride 
 has  appeared  more  odious  to  me,  more  detestable, 
 ungrateful,  and  abominable  of  late  than  ever  before. 
 Oh  that  my  reason  may  be  used  for  God  !  and,  if  it 
 is  used  thus  successfully,  that  the  consciousness  of 
 my  infinite  obligations  to  Him  who  continues  the 
 faculties  he  gave,  may  keep  me  perfectly  humble.  I 
 want  to  be  clothed  with  humility.  Vain  man !  What 
 arrogance  to  talk  of  having  a  mind  that  will  not  yield 
 to  despair!  Let  thy  God  drop  for  a  moment  the 
 hand  which  sustains  thy  reason,  and  where  art  thou  ? 
 
 L  41 
 
242 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  December  20,  1818. 
 
 You  will  be  pleased  to  learn,  that  our  Christian 
 community  is  becoming  more  deeply  interested  in 
 behalf  of  the  Jews  than  it  has  been  heretofore.  Two 
 missionaries  are  expected  to  sail  in  the  spring,  on  an 
 exploring  expedition  to  Jerusalem.  Their  object  is 
 to  ascertain  what  encouragements  exist  to  the  estab¬ 
 lishment  of  a  missionary  station  there.  It  is  believed 
 that  they  will  be  found  'sufficient  to  justify  such  a 
 measure.  All  the  information  we  receive  respect¬ 
 ing  the  Jews,  both  in  Asia  and  in  Europe,  seems  to 
 indicate  most  clearly,  that  the  present  is  a  time  in 
 which  they  are  expecting  something  remarkable,  in 
 a  political  and  religious  view,  to  be  done  for  their 
 nation.  Nothing  seems  to  give  such  a  spring  to 
 missionary  exertion  as  an  increased  attention  to  the 
 Jews ;  for  we  know  that  their  ingathering  will  be  as 
 life  from  the  dead  to  the  Gentiles.  Park  Street 
 church  and  ours  have  agreed  to  unite  in  the  obser¬ 
 vance  of  the  Monthly  Concert  of  Prayer,  and  at  each 
 concert  to  take  up  a  collection  for  the  support  of  one 
 of  these  missionaries  to  Jerusalem.  Both  churches 
 have  also  determined,  severally,  to  educate  at  least 
 one  young  man  for  the  ministry,  agreeably  to  the 
 plan  proposed  in  the  pamphlet  entitled,  66  The  claims 
 of  600,000,000  of  Heathen.”  Cannot  you  educate 
 one  in  your  church  ?  Try, 
 
24  3 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  A. 
 
 Boston ,  January  22,  1819. 
 
 No,  my  dear  friend,  I  shall  not  66  be  tired  of 
 your  complaints,”  though  I  may  be  pained  by  your 
 compliments.  To  be  told  that  we  are  clever,  &c. 
 may  be  gratifying  to  our  pride,  at  the  same  time  that 
 it  occasions  uneasiness,  because  we  know  that  it  is 
 not  true. 
 
 As  to  our  respective  management  of  our  children, 
 you  see  all  your  own  short-comings,  and  I  see  mine, 
 at  least  some  of  them.  I  suppose  each  of  us  thinks 
 that,  were  our  faithfulness  weighed  in  the  balance, 
 the  scale  would  preponderate  in  favour  of  the  other. 
 But  it  is  a  great  comfort  that  there  is  One  who 
 knows  all  our  hinderances  and  all  our  efforts:  who 
 knows  all  our  weaknesses  and  discouragements,  and 
 who  has  said,  cc  If  any  man  lack  wisdom,  let  him 
 ask  of  God,  who  giveth  liberally,  and  upbraideth 
 not.”  Our  discouragements  often  result  from  the 
 
 o 
 
 belief  that  our  difficulties  are  peculiar  to  ourselves. 
 If  we  could  only  see  the  conflicts  of  others,  we 
 should  often  find  that  their  struggles  were  as  painful 
 as  our  own.  Perhaps  they  may  not  be  called  to 
 contend  with  precisely  the  same  things  that  we  are  ; 
 but  if  their  difficulties  be  of  a  totally  different  kind 
 from  ours,  they  are  not  on  that  account  the  less  for¬ 
 midable. 
 
 For  myself,  I  often  feel  as  if  there  could  not  be 
 an  individual  of  our  weak  and  sinful  race  more  feeble, 
 more  helpless,  more  unable  to  stand  the  smallest 
 trial,  than  I  am.  These  are  sad  hours ;  but  they 
 
 L  2 
 
244 
 
 may  be  profitable  ones.  It  is  a  sweet  reflection  that 
 He  with  whom  we  have  to  do  will  not  break  the 
 bruised  reed ;  and  that  our  physical  infirmities  con¬ 
 stitute  us  such,  as  well  as  our  moral  ones.  Yes;  he 
 knowetb  our  frame,  be  remembereth  that  we  are 
 dust.  The  great  cause  of  our  getting  on  so  heavily 
 seems  to  me  to  be,  that  we  are  weak  in  faith.  Would 
 we  quietly  receive  the  allotments  of  God’s  provi¬ 
 dence,  would  w’e  patiently  wait  for  the  intimations  of 
 his  will,  would  we  unreservedly  surrender  all  our  in¬ 
 terests  into  his  hands,  how  much  happier  should  we 
 be  !  There  would  still  be  sin  to  grieve  us,  to  be 
 sure ;  but  a  strong  faith,  though  it  would  not  di¬ 
 minish  our  contrition  for  our  sins,  and  our  concern 
 on  account  of  the  sins  of  others,  would  take  away 
 much  of  their  bitterness.  The  tears  of  godly  sor¬ 
 row  would  not  so  often  be  mingled  with  the  sighs  of 
 despondency  ;  and  the  restlessness  and  anxiety  of 
 our  hearts,  now  such  obstacles  to  a  state  of  satisfac¬ 
 tion  with  the  government  of  God,  would  yield  to  an 
 humble  persuasion  that  he  will  do  all  things  well. 
 Oh,  my  friend,  in  saying  this  I  am  met  with  the  pain¬ 
 ful  conviction  that  I  am  the  person  who  has  more 
 need,  perhaps,  to  pray,  Lord,  increase  my  faith  ! 
 than  any  one  else  ! 
 
 As  to  the  subject  of  your  strong  and  reasonable 
 solicitude,  remember  that  the  hearts  of  all  men  are 
 in  the  hands  of  the  Lord,  and  he  can  turn  them  as 
 the  rivers  of  water  are  turned.  God  can  work  with¬ 
 out  any  human  instrument:  he  can  make  the  lan¬ 
 guor  of  debility,  and  the  agonies  of  disease,  effectual 
 teachers  and  schoolmasters,  to  bring  men  to  Christ. 
 And  he  often  does.  Your  desire  and  anxious  con- 
 
245 
 
 cern  for  the  conversion  of  this  dear  friend  are  rational 
 and  proper,  so  far  as  they  stimulate  you  to  fervency 
 and  wrestling  in  prayer  on  his  account.  But  if  this 
 desire  and  concern  pass  over  these  bounds,  if  they 
 lead  to  an  anxious  state  of  mind,  which  enfeebles 
 your  health,  interrupts  your  confidence  in  God,  and 
 thus  unfits  you  to  pray  and  labour,  either  for  him, 
 or  yourself,  or  your  children,  as  you  otherwise  would 
 do,  docs  it  not  become  a  hinderance  and  a  snare  ? 
 It  is  a  difficult  case,  I  know.  But  your  gracious 
 God,  on  whose  kind  arms  you  have  hitherto  been  so 
 mercifully  borne,  will,  even  in  this  trial,  put  the  song 
 of  salvation  and  praise  into  your  lips,  and  give  you 
 the  soul  you  longed  for ;  or,  if  he  withhold  the  evi¬ 
 dence  of  this,  he  will  quiet  your  heart  as  that  of  a 
 weaned  child.  Be  not  dismayed.  God  is  a  rock  : 
 his  way  is  perfect. 
 
 You  say  you  are  <s  easily  disheartened.”  And 
 do  you  not  think  others  are  so  as  well  as  yourself  ? 
 Alas  !  many  have  been  the  times  that,  after  my  little 
 flock  had  gone  to  bed,  I  have  shed  bitter  tears  over 
 the  miscarriages  and  mistakes  of  the  day.  I  feel  that 
 I  am  not  faithful,  as  I  should  he,  to  improve  oppor¬ 
 tunities  of  doing  good  in  my  family,  of  recommend- 
 ing  religion  to  its  members,  especially  the  children. 
 I  think  we  should  make  it  a  subject  of  prayer,  every 
 morning,  that  we  may  be  enabled  to  seize,  with 
 wisdom,  every  opportunity  of  doing  good  that  may 
 offer  through  the  day.  I  do  remember  Wednesday 
 evening.*  These  seasons  have  sometimes  been  very 
 
 *  On  this  evening,  she  and  her  correspondent  had  agreed  to 
 make  each  other’s  children  the  special  subject  of  their  secret 
 prayers. 
 
246 
 
 precious  to  me.  This  text  lias  been  on  my  mind 
 very  sweetly  of  late,  64  I  will  pour  my  Spirit  upon 
 thy  seed,  and  my  blessing  upon  thine  offspring.”  I 
 feel,  my  dear  friend,  as  if  God  will  have  respect  unto 
 his  covenant,  and  choose  the  seed  of  his  people  as  a 
 generation  to  serve  him.  I  want  to  have  this  pro¬ 
 mise  fulfilled  all  the  world  over ;  and  I  hope  it  will 
 be  before  long.  Perhaps,  if  Christian  parents  are 
 faithful,  the  millennium  will  be  introduced  in  this 
 way.  And  if  this  be  the  case,  is  it  not  a  privilege 
 to  be  a  mother  in  this  day,  when  there  is  so  great 
 and  comforting  a  prospect  that  our  children  will  be 
 made  stars  in  the  Redeemer’s  crown  ? 
 
 March  4.  I  have  been  in  a  poor  state  of  health 
 of  late.  I  am  now  better,  but  still  feeble.  Though 
 afflicted,  I  have  experienced  much  of  the  Lord’s 
 goodness  in  my  illness.  O  yes  !  he  is  always  faith¬ 
 ful.  I  can  only  bear  record  against  myself.  I  think 
 I  have,  at  times,  felt  my  Saviour  near  me,  tasted  the 
 sweetness  of  his  love,  and  the  fulness  of  his  salva¬ 
 tion.  Death  has,  at  times,  looked  to  me  sweet,  as 
 the  harbinger  of  eternal  peace,  of  unmingled  holi¬ 
 ness.  One  day,  when  I  was  very  much  disordered 
 at  my  breast,  the  prospect  of  living  seemed  to  be  re¬ 
 ceived  by  me  almost  with  reluctance.  Oh  what  a 
 glorious  prospect  has  the  Christian  before  him  ! 
 How  precious  are  the  consolations  of  religion  in  this 
 world!  And  what  joys  in  reversion!  Yes,  my 
 Saviour,  rivers  of  pleasure  are  at  thy  right  hand ; 
 and  thy  love  is  sweeter  than  all  the  enjoyments  of 
 millions  of  worlds.  I  am  happier,  a  great  deal,  than 
 *  I  was  when  my  health  was  better  ;  because  I  feel  (if 
 
247 
 
 I  am  not  deceived,  and  I  believe  I  am  not)  so  much 
 more  of  the  blessed  influence  of  religion.  Before  I 
 was  so  feeble,  I  felt  as  if  I  must  be  brought  nearer 
 to  God.  I  prayed  that  I  might  be  drawn  near,  and 
 kept  near  to  him ;  if  it  could  be  done  only  by  bring¬ 
 ing  me  low,  that  I  might  be  brought  low.  Any 
 means  seemed  welcome,  if  the  end  could  only  be 
 effected.  And  my  prayer  was  soon  answered. 
 
 TO  THE  PRESIDENT  OF  THE  MATERNAL  ASSOCIA¬ 
 TION  OF  P. 
 
 Boston ,  March  14,  1819. 
 
 Dear  Madam, — Your  letter  of  February  9th,  to 
 the  Maternal  Association  of  Boston,  came  safe  to 
 hand.  The  expressions  of  Christian  affection  to¬ 
 ward  us,  which  it  contained,  could  not  fail  to  be  gra¬ 
 tifying.  The  apostle  well  understood  the  treacherous 
 nature  of  the  human  heart,  when  he  exhorted  Chris¬ 
 tians  to  stir  up  the  gift  of  God  within  them  for  mu¬ 
 tual  edification.  Christians  often  need  to  put  each 
 other  in  mind  of  acknowledged  duties  :  and,  as  6i  iron 
 sharpeneth  iron,  so  a  man  sharpeneth  the  countenance 
 of  his  friend.” 
 
 The  subject  of  your  letter,  the  religious  education 
 of  our  children,  is  indeed  one  of  the  greatest  im¬ 
 portance.  While,  on  the  one  hand,  we  would  avoid 
 the  error  of  those  who  think  education  can  do  every 
 thing,  we  certainly  are  authorized  to  conclude,  from 
 the  whole  tenor  of  revelation,  that,  with  the  blessing 
 of  God,  it  may  do  much.  The  question,  then,  What 
 is  a  religious  education  ?  becomes  one  of  the  deepest 
 
248 
 
 interest.  Is  it  to  have  our  children  baptized,  and 
 initiated  into  a  knowledge  of  the  general  principles 
 of  Christianity  ?  Is  it  to  make  them  attend  upon 
 the  regular  administration  of  the  word,  to  catechise 
 them,  to  remind  them  of  the  greatness  of  their  obli¬ 
 gations  to  become  holy,  and  set  before  them  the 
 terrors  of  the  Lord,  that  we  may  persuade  them  to 
 flee  from  the  wrath  to  come  ?  All  this  we  undoubt¬ 
 edly  ought  to  do.  But  all  this  we  may  do,  and  yet 
 be  found  wanting.  For  we  can  never  too  earnestly 
 press  upon  ourselves  the  conviction,  that  education 
 is  not  what  we  teach  our  children  in  detached  periods 
 of  time,  when  we  are  giving  them  special  instruction, 
 or  explaining  to  them  revealed  truths ;  but  what  we 
 teach  them  by  the  silent,  but  ever  influencing  lan¬ 
 guage  of  our  general  example.  The  mother  who 
 recommends  religion,  in  her  formal  instructions  to 
 her  children,  as  a  thing  of  the  first  importance,  while, 
 in  her  own  case,  it  is  habitually  driven  into  a  corner 
 — who  urges  on  her  children  the  supreme  desirable¬ 
 ness  of  laying  up  treasures  in  heaven,  while  her 
 dearest  ones  are  evinced  by  her  conduct  to  be  on 
 earth — who  insists  on  the  excellence  and  importance 
 of  meekness,  patience,  and  charity,  while  she  is  no 
 way  remarkable  for  the  exercise  of  these  graces  her¬ 
 self — who  descants  on  the  vanity  of  the  world,  while 
 she  is  seen  to  be  a  slave  to  its  opinions  and  fashions, — 
 can  hardly  expect  much  success  from  her  labours.* 
 
 *  The  reader  will  find  some  very  judicious  remarks  on  this  most 
 important  topic,  in  the  life  of  Dr.  Scott,  author  of  the  Family 
 Bible,  particularly  in  the  17th  Chapter,  and  in  the  pastoral  Ad¬ 
 dress  of  the  General  Association  of  Connecticut,  in  1822,  published 
 ip  the  Christian  Spectator  for  that  year,  at  p.  491.  This  docu- 
 
<249 
 
 But  while  we  must  all  weep  over  our  short-com¬ 
 ings,  while  we  have  occasion  to  confess  to  our  God, 
 and  perhaps,  sometimes,  to  acknowledge  to  our  chil¬ 
 dren,  that  the  evil  which  we  would  not,  that  we  do, 
 it  should  inspire  us  with  courage  that  we  have  a 
 High  Priest,  who  is  touched  with  the  feeling  of  our 
 infirmities,  and  who  is  able  to  prevent  the  influence 
 of  unallowed  miscarriages  on  the  minds  and  hearts  ol 
 our  little  ones.  If  there  be  a  prevailing  desire,  and 
 a  settled  purpose  and  endeavour,  to  walk  before  our 
 house  with  a  perfect  heart,  may  we  not  indulge  the 
 humble  hope,  that  our  accidental  mistakes,  or  occa¬ 
 sional  deviations  from  the  path  of  duty,  shall  not 
 separate  his  mercy  from  us  and  our  children  ? 
 
 66  The  kingdom  of  God  is  as  if  a  man  should  cast 
 seed  into  the  ground ;  and  should  sleep,  and  rise 
 night  and  day,  and  the  seed  should  spring  and  grow 
 up,  he  knoweth  not  how.  For  the  earth  bringeth 
 forth  fruit  of  herself;  first  the  blade,  then  the  ear, 
 after  that  the  full  corn  in  the  ear.”  Here  is  the  sure 
 word  for  encouragement.  The  husbandman,  who 
 casts  his  seed  into  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  waits  in 
 quiet  expectation  of  the  harvest.  He  plants,  he 
 waters,  he  removes  carefully  the  young  weeds  which 
 appear  and  endanger  the  growth  of  the  grain :  and, 
 usually,  he  does  not  labour  in  vain.  So  is  the  king¬ 
 dom  of  God,  or  his  word  in  the  heart.  And,  in  due 
 season,  we  may  expect  to  reap,  if  we  faint  not. 
 
 We  must,  however,  prepare  ourselves  to  meet  with 
 
 ment  ought  to  be  possessed,  and  frequently  perused,  by  every 
 Christian  parent.  An  abstract  of  it  was  published  in  the  Boston 
 .Recorder  of  November  2,  1822. 
 
 L  3 
 
2,50 
 
 many  hinderances,  to  resist  many  discouragements, 
 to  overcome  many  difficulties.  The  evils  resulting 
 from  a  nature  altogether  corrupt,  are  too  potent  to  be 
 levelled  at  one  blow.  Nor  must  the  recurrence  of 
 the  manifestation  of  dispositions,  which  we  had  hoped 
 were  annihilated,  or  the  relapse  into  sins  which  we 
 had  believed  were  forsaken,  disarm  us  of  resolution 
 and  strength  to  apply,  with  a  steady  hand,  the  proper 
 remedies  for  these  disorders.  The  disease  may  be 
 protracted,  there  may  be  many  relapses ;  but  we  must 
 not  therefore  conclude  that  it  is  incurable,  and  remit 
 our  efforts  to  save  its  unhappy  victim. 
 
 W  e  are  apt  to  be  impatient  to  enjoy  now  the  fruit 
 ot  our  prayers  and  tears.  And  to  desire  that  our  little 
 ones  may  be  early  brought  into  God’s  covenant,  is 
 certainly  proper.  But  we  must  remember  that  now 
 is  the  time  for  working .  This  is  our  part;  to  give 
 the  blessing  is  the  Lord’s.  Let  us  then  strive  to 
 do  our  part  faithfully  and  perseveringly ;  and  may  we 
 not  safely  leave  all  that  remains  with  him  ? 
 
 With  respect  to  educating  a  heathen  child,  we 
 have  long  had  a  quarterly  collection,  the  avails  of 
 which  have  been  appropriated  to  this  object.  We 
 originally  intended  that  it  should  be  devoted  to  the 
 support  of  a  female  in  India ;  but  in  consequence  of 
 the  difficulty  of  obtaining  such  subjects  of  this  charity 
 there,  we  recently  determined  to  devote  it  to  the 
 education  of  a  female  of  the  Cherokee  nation  of  In¬ 
 dians.  We  hope  the  time  is  not  far  distant,  when 
 the  degraded  women  of  the  East  will  be  so  far  eman¬ 
 cipated  from  their  present  abject  condition,  as  to  be 
 suffered,  with  their  fathers  and  brethren,  to  stretch 
 
251 
 
 out  their  hands,  and  lift  up  their  voices  in  supplica¬ 
 tion  for  the  blessings  of  the  gospel.  What  mother, 
 what  Christian,  in  view  of  this  subject,  must  not  often 
 breathe  forth  the  prayer,  6i  Thy  kingdom  come  ?” 
 
 Our  Association  have  also  resolved  to  spend  the 
 last  Wednesday  in  every  year  exclusively  in  prayer, 
 for  ourselves,  our  own  little  ones,  the  children  of  the 
 members  of  other  Maternal  Associations,  and  the 
 offspring  of  all  God’s  professing  people. 
 
 We  hope  you  remember  us  and  ours  in  your 
 prayers.  Oh  that  our  united  supplications  may  come 
 up  as  incense  before  the  mercy-seat ;  that  they  may, 
 through  the  great  Intercessor,  be  heard  in  heaven, 
 and  speedily  answered  on  earth,  to  the  praise  of  God’s 
 glorious  grace  !  Amen  and  amen. 
 
 May  7.  Oh  my  God  !  thou  knowest  the  earnest, 
 the,  at  times,  almost  heart-breaking  desires  I  feel 
 for  the  conversion  of  my  children.  What  shall  I 
 do,  that  this  end  may  be  attained  ?  Lord,  teach  me 
 what  thou  requirest  of  me  in  this  particular  !  Espe¬ 
 cially  make  me  scrupulously  watchful  over  my  own 
 example.  Oh  God  !  do  1  not  choose  thee  for  their 
 portion,  above  all  other  portions  ?  And  wilt  thou 
 not  give  me  as  I  have  desired?  O  hasten,  hasten 
 the  time  of  their  union,  by  a  living  faith,  to  the  Lord 
 Jesus  Christ ! 
 
 TO  MISS  - ,  OF  BOSTON. 
 
 Boston ,  June  1,  1819. 
 
 My  dear  - ,  I  mentioned  the  subject  of  our 
 
 morning’s  conversation  to  my  husband,  whose  con- 
 
252 
 
 stitutional  reserve  on  all  subjects,  and  invariable  cau¬ 
 tion  on  such  as  this,  rendered  it  proper  that  I  should 
 do  so.  As  his  judgment  is  much  better  than  mine, 
 and  as  I  felt  afflicted  in  your  affliction,  I  could  not 
 forbear  informing  you,  that  he  thinks  you  have  no 
 cause  for  the  great  uneasiness  you  feel.  The  whole 
 course  of  your  conduct  in  the  affair,  he  thinks  cen¬ 
 surable  in  no  respect. 
 
 We  all  fall  into  errors  and  inadvertencies  in  this 
 world;  and  it  is  as  necessary  that  we  should  learn 
 the  painful  lessons  of  our  ignorance  of  what  is  right, 
 and  of  our  great  impotence  in  doing  it,  as  other  les¬ 
 sons  more  pleasant.  The  great  thing  is,  to  be  made 
 better  by  them  all.  You  see,  my  dear  girl,  that 
 innocent,  or  at  least  comparatively  innocent  actions, 
 sometimes  subject  us  to  great  censure;  and  that 
 from  persons  whom  we  dearly  love.  The  only  way, 
 therefore,  to  enjoy  uniform  quiet  is,  to  endeavour, 
 as  much  as  possible,  to  cease  from  man,  to  study 
 what  is  that  good,  and  acceptable,  and  perfect  will  of 
 God,  and  aim  to  do  it.  If  we  have  his  approba¬ 
 tion,  let  us  strive  to  view  other  things  as  compara¬ 
 tively  unimportant.  If  we  aim  to  prefer  his  opinion 
 above  that  of  all  others,  we  shall  not  give  him  this 
 supremacy  in  vain.  For  those  that  honour  him,  he 
 will  honour. 
 
 June  14.  How  many  perplexing  circumstances 
 are  continually  occurring  in  this  world  I  In  manag¬ 
 ing  a  family,  how  much  happens  to  pain  and  wound 
 one  !  I  think  it  is  my  humble  desire  to  be  as  a 
 wise  legislator  to  my  little  province ;  to  enact  as  few 
 statutes  as  possible,  and  those  judicious  and  easy  to 
 
253 
 
 be  observed;  to  see  that  all  things  are  done  at  the 
 proper  time,  and  in  the  proper  way,  so  far  as  practi¬ 
 cable,  that  our  family  may  be  a  quiet,  well-organized, 
 regular  family ;  to  attend  to  these  necessary  duties 
 with  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit ;  to  manifest,  in  all  my 
 deportment  before  my  household,  much  of  the  meek¬ 
 ness  of  heavenly  wisdom.  But  how  difficult  is  all 
 this  !  How  often  do  my  most  conscientious  regula¬ 
 tions  meet  with  the  disapprobation  of  my  domestics  ! 
 How  often  are  my  best  motives  misapprehended  ! 
 And,  what  is  worse  than  all  the  rest,  how  often  do 
 these  things  trouble  and  discompose  me,  and  make 
 me  seriously  unhappy !  I  think  my  heavenly  Fa¬ 
 ther  knows  that  I  have  a  sincere  desire  to  he  faithful 
 over  my  house ;  that  it  is  my  earnest  endeavour  to 
 walk  before  it  as  a  Christian  ought  to  walk.  Oh 
 to  be  more  faithful,  and  less  disheartened  at  difficul¬ 
 ties  !  Oh  that  these  little  troubles  may  drive  me  to  a 
 better  resting-place  than  this  world ! 
 
 July  19.  Bridgewater .  My  husband  set  out  this 
 morning  on  a  journey  for  his  health,  which  has  been 
 very  feeble  of  late.  He  will  probably  go  as  far  as 
 Montreal.  And  I  have  come,  with  my  eldest  child, 
 to  spend  a  part,  or  all,  of  the  time  of  his  absence, 
 here.  I  shall  have  leisure  for  reading,  and  medita¬ 
 tion,  and  prayer.  Nothing  will  he  wanting  to  enable 
 me  to  make  some  progress  heavenward,  unless, 
 through  my  perverseness,  it  be  a  heart  to  improve. 
 Lord,  enable  me  by  thy  grace  to  fulfil  the  resolu¬ 
 tions  I  have  made,  to  spend  the  time  in  thy  fear 
 and  service  ! 
 
 August  3.  We  had  yesterday  one  of  the  most  tre¬ 
 mendous  and  awful  thunder-storms  1  ever  witnessed. 
 
254 
 
 It  seemed  as  if  all  the  elements  were  mingling  and 
 melting  together.  It  had  been  preceded  by  a  few 
 days  of  most  oppressive  heat.  Four  barns  were 
 struck  in  this  parish ;  a  meeting-house  in  the  adjacent 
 one,  and  four  men  who  were  working  in  it  laid  sense¬ 
 less,  but  revived  soon  enough  to  extinguish  the  flames 
 which  had  communicated  to  the  shavings.  I  felt 
 quiet  and  composed,  for  I  realized  that  Jehovah  was 
 riding  upon  the  tempest  and  directing  the  storm.  I 
 was  sensible  that  the  danger  was  great,  and  my  mind 
 was  rendered  solemn.  But  I  felt  chiefly  desirous, 
 that  the  awful  providence  might  he  a  quickening  one 
 to  me;  that  when  the  Son  of  man  does  come,  I  may 
 be  found  ready  to  meet  him. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  A. 
 
 Bridgewater ,  August  13,  1819. 
 
 Our  sufferings  are  measured  out,  and  our  times 
 appointed,  by  One  who  knows  infinitely  well  how  to 
 dispense  and  order  all.  It  is  sweet  to  feel  safe  in 
 his  hands.  And  if  the  children  of  God,  we  are  safe ; 
 and  our  Father’s  hand  will  not  inflict  one  unnecessary 
 stroke.  But  oh  the  obduracy  of  these  hearts;  the 
 almost  irresistible  disposition  existing  in  us  to  depart 
 from  God  !  These  are  the  things  which  render  so 
 many  stripes  and  rebukes  necessary  for  us.  And 
 shall  we  not  be  willing  that  God  should  employ  the 
 means  which  he  sees  to  be  best  adapted  to  deliver  us 
 from  sin? 
 
 My  health  has  improved  surprisingly  since  I  have 
 been  in  the  country.  I  only  want  more  grace,  a 
 strong  and  practical  faith,  and  that  love  to  Christ 
 
255 
 
 which  shall  make  me  hate  every  thing  which  inter¬ 
 feres  with  my  duty  to  him. 
 
 August  20.  How  high  is  the  Christian’s  destina¬ 
 tion  !  How  elevated  are  the  motives  from  which  he 
 professes  to  act !  How  exalted  is  the  end  he  pro¬ 
 fesses  to  have  in  view  above  the  little  things  of  this 
 ■world !  And  yet  trifles,  light  as  the  small  dust  of 
 the  balance,  often  interpose  between  him  and  his 
 ultimate  object,  and  hinder  and  clog  his  way  to  hea¬ 
 ven.  He  feels,  perhaps,  their  insignificance.  He 
 laments  the  weakness  or  perversion  of  mind,  which 
 alone  could  invest  them  with  such  power.  But,  while 
 he  acknowledges  the  littleness  of  his  enemy,  he  finds 
 himself  constantly  assailed,  and  frequently  vanquished 
 by  it.  Alas  !  too  often  is  this  the  case  with  me. 
 Careful  and  troubled  about  many  things  which  are 
 not  worth  a  thought !  Oh  !  why  do  I  thus  spend 
 my  money  for  that  which  is  not  bread  ?  and  my  labour 
 for  that  which  satisfieth  not  ? 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 * 
 
 Bridgewater ,  August  25,  1819. 
 
 It  would  have  given  me  great  pleasure,  my  dear 
 sister,  to  have  spent  some  weeks  with  you  this  sum¬ 
 mer,  had  I  not  been  unwilling  to  add  to  your  cares, 
 and  had  I  been  able  to  take  such  a  journey.  But 
 the  goodness  of  God  to  me  is  very  apparent  in  so 
 disposing  my  circumstances,  at  the  time  of  my  dear 
 husband’s  departure,  as  to  prevent  my  thinking  of 
 such  a  visit  this  season.  I  could  not  have  borne  the 
 fatigue  of  the  journey ;  and  the  reports  of  yellow 
 
256 
 
 fever  in  Boston,  so  vague  as  they  would  have  reached 
 me  at  New  London,  would  have  occasioned  me  in¬ 
 expressible  uneasiness.  I  have  not  been  without  my 
 anxieties  here.  I  brought  S.#  with  me  when  I  came 
 out.  About  a  fortnight  ago,  I  heard  that  S.  A.f 
 had  been  sick,  and  sent  for  her;  and  yesterday  I 
 learned  that  little  M.J  was  seized  on  Saturday  night, 
 so  violently  as  to  endanger  her  life.  Through  the 
 mercy  of  Cxod,  the  dear  child  has  recovered;  but  I 
 expect  to  send  for  her  also  to-morrow.  I  felt  last 
 night,  as  if  I  had  so  much  more  reason  to  be  thank¬ 
 ful  to  my  heavenly  Father  for  sparing  the  life  of  the 
 child,  than  to  be  grieved  because  he  did  lay  his  hand 
 upon  her,  that  the  intelligence  of  her  sickness  was 
 made  very  light  to  me. 
 
 Upon  every  fresh  trial,  I  feel  more  and  more 
 astonished  at  my  own  declensions,  which  make  the 
 stroke  necessary,  and  at  the  patience  of  God,  which 
 will  continue  to  undertake,  by  mercies  and  judg¬ 
 ments,  the  preparation  of  so  unmeet  a  subject  for 
 heaven.  It  is  easy  to  talk  about  the  vanity  and  folly 
 of  earthly  attachments  and  dependencies.  But  the 
 Christian  must  be  brought  to  a  habitual,  practical 
 determination  to  have  no  other  god  but  Jehovah. 
 He  must  be  brought  to  say,  in  the  deepest  sincerity, 
 of  his  soul, 
 
 The  dearest  idol  I  have  known, 
 
 Whate’er  that  idol  be, 
 
 Help  me  to  tear  it  from  its  throne  ! 
 
 And  there  is  no  doubt  that  most  of  the  trials  of  the 
 
 *  Her  oldest  child.  f  Her  third  child. 
 
 I  Her  youngest  child  at  that  time. 
 
<257 
 
 people  of  God  are  sent  for  the  accomplishment  of  this 
 very  end.  It  is  no  easy  matter,  with  such  earthly 
 hearts,  and  surrounded  by  earthly  objects,  and  cares, 
 and  duties,  and  pleasures,  to  preserve  and  advance  in 
 spiritual-mindedness.  But,  without  this,  we  are  not 
 warranted  to  hope  we  are  Christians,  we  cannot  ex¬ 
 pect  to  be  partakers  of  the  heavenly  inheritance. 
 
 As  to  the  reports  of  sickness  in  Boston  which  you 
 have  heard,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  has  been 
 very  sickly  there.  The  whole  number  of  deaths, 
 from  various  causes,  the  last  week,  was  twenty-five. 
 The  fever  has  been  checked  since  the  commencement 
 of  the  present  coldness  of  the  weather.  If  it  can  be 
 so,  consistently  with  the  wise  purpose  of  Jehovah,  I 
 most  earnestly  desire  this  weather  may  continue.  But 
 I  want  a  heart  to  feel  such  entire  satisfaction  with 
 God’s  government  as  shall  keep  me  in  perfect  peace. 
 To  view  the  subject  so  as  to  weep  with  those  that 
 weep — to  long  that  the  impenitent,  who  are  sick, 
 may  not  be  driven  away  in  their  wickedness — and  to 
 desire  more  intensely,  that  the  judgment  may  be  sanc¬ 
 tified,  than  that  it  may  be  removed, — is,  no  doubt, 
 the  manner  in  which  it  ought  to  be  viewed. 
 
 I  received  a  letter  yesterday  from  my  dear  hus¬ 
 band.  He  was,  when  he  wrote,  just  about  to  leave 
 Montreal  for  Quebec.  He  says  he  has  been  much 
 gratified  with  his  journey,  and  that  his  health  is  much 
 improved.  I  hope  he  will  not  return  before  the 
 middle  of  September;  but  I  fear  that,  when  he  has 
 turned  his  face  homeward,  he  will  hurry  as  fast  as 
 possible. 
 
258 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  BOSTON. 
 
 Bridgewater,  August  25,  1819. 
 
 I  hope,  my  dear  Mrs.  - ,  you,  and  all  the 
 
 good  people  of  the  Old  South,  have  been  pleased 
 with  the  preaching  you  have  had  since  Mr.  Hun¬ 
 tington  left  home.  I  think  that  yesterday,  and  the 
 preceding  Sabbath,  you  could  not  fail  to  be  gratified. 
 But  after  all,  ordinances  will  be  barren  and  unpro¬ 
 fitable  to  us,  however  well  administered,  unless  the 
 God  of  ordinances  meet  with  us  in  them.  I  believe 
 I  lose  more  by  neglecting  a  due  preparation  for  re¬ 
 ligious  duties,  than  in  any  other  way.  God  will 
 be  inquired  of  to  do  these  things  for  us — to  make 
 attendance  upon  his  ordinances,  in  a  spiritual  sense, 
 delightful  and  profitable.  The  word  must  be  sanc¬ 
 tified  by  faith  and  prayer,  and  then  it  will  be  a  word 
 in  season. 
 
 How  are  your  niece  and  daughter  ?  I  hope  they 
 experience  a  growing  determination  to  endeavour  to 
 secure  the  pearl  of  great  price — the  safety  of  the 
 soul,  whatever  else  may  be  lost.  The  day  is  fast 
 approaching,  when  all  will  be  felt  to  be  a  dream,  a 
 bubble,  without  the  durable  riches  of  the  Christian. 
 Nothing  else  which  we  may  acquire,  can  be  retained 
 when  we  enter  the  eternal  world.  And  may  I  not 
 say,  nothing  else  can  ensure  us  happiness  in  the 
 present  world?  for 
 
 The  spider’s  most  attenuated  thread 
 Is  cord,  is  cable,  to  man’s  slender  hold 
 On  earthly  bliss.  It  breaks  at  every  breeze. 
 
 You  have,  no  doubt,  seen  Professor  Stuart’s 
 
Letters  to  Mr.  Charming*  I  am  delighted  with 
 them.  An  enemy  must,  I  think,  trim  his  powers 
 of  perception  to  an  uncommon  degree  of  acuteness, 
 to  find  in  them  any  of  that  bigotry,  and  sourness, 
 and  uncharitableness,  of  which  the  orthodox  are  so 
 liberally  accused.  Mr.  S.  has  certainly  written  like 
 a  Christian  and  a  gentleman ;  and  better  judges  than 
 I  am,  think  he  has  written  like  an  able  critic  and  a 
 profound  scholar. 
 
 August  28.  I  am  distressed  at  my  want  of  faith. 
 The  yellow  fever  has  been  in  Boston  since  I  have 
 been  here.  There  were  eleven  deaths  by  this  dis¬ 
 ease  on  Friday  and  Saturday  of  last  week.  I  hear 
 that  my  dear  husband  will  probably  be  at  home  on 
 Monday,  and  that,  from  travelling  rapidly,  he  is 
 much  fatigued.  I  fear  he  is  sick.  If  he  is  not,  he 
 will  be  exposed  to  the  fever  when  he  reaches  home. 
 Oh  for  faith  to  leave  him  with  God  !  My  very 
 heart  sinks  in  prospect  of  his  falling  a  sacrifice  to 
 disease  ! 
 
 September  1.  I  have  reason  to  think  my  beloved 
 husband  actually  is  sick.  I  have  only  heard  that  he 
 is  fatigued,  and  has  stopped  at  Groton.  I  am  going 
 home  in  the  stage  to-day.  Oh  that  I  may  find 
 things  better  than  I  fear  ! 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  BOSTON. 
 
 Groton ,  September  9,  1819. 
 
 This  has  been  a  trying  day.  My  dear  husband 
 is  very  low.  How  this  distressing  fever  will  termi¬ 
 nate,  God  only  knows  !  The  prospect  is  very  dis- 
 
260 
 
 couraging.  Oh  that  we  may  all  be  prepared  for 
 whatever  is  preparing  for  us  !  I  feel  as  if  I  had 
 never  been  afflicted  till  now.  But  the  Judge  of  all 
 the  earth  will  do  right.  I  want  to  feel  that  all  is 
 safe  while  be  governs. 
 
 The  apprehensions  expressed  in  the  above  extract 
 were  soon  realized.  Mr.  Huntington  died  at  Gro¬ 
 ton,  between  twelve  and  one  o’clock,  on  Saturday, 
 September  11,  1819.  66  On  the  succeeding  Mon¬ 
 
 day  the  mortal  remains  were  interred  in  Boston, 
 with  appropriate  exercises,  and  great  solemnity.  A 
 sermon  was  delivered  on  the  occasion,  by  the  Rev. 
 Mr.  Dwight,*  in  the  Old  South  Church,  where  an 
 immense  concourse  was  assembled,  to  express  their 
 interest  in  the  solemn  event,  and  to  pay  a  public 
 tribute  to  distinguished  worth.  The  clergy  of  Bos¬ 
 ton  and  the  vicinity,  the  members  of  the  church  and 
 congregration  of  which  the  deceased  had  been  pastor, 
 and  a  multitude  of  other  acquaintances  and  friends, 
 united  with  the  bereaved  family  and  relations,  in 
 deploring  their  common  loss,  while  they  praised  God 
 for  the  bright  example  of  Christian  virtue  which 
 they  had  witnessed.  The  spacious  house  of  worship 
 where  the  last  sad  offices  were  performed,  was  so 
 crowded,  that  many  hundreds  tried  in  vain  to  obtain 
 admittance.  The  tokens  of  unaffected  mourning 
 were  so  numerous  and  so  impressive,  that  it  could 
 not  be  doubtful  in  what  high  and  affectionate  esti- 
 
 *  Pastor  of  the  Park  Street  Church,  in  Boston. 
 
261 
 
 mation  the  character  of  the  departed  minister  and 
 friend  was  held.* 
 
 In  relation  to  the  state  of  Mrs.  Huntington’s 
 mind,  under  this  heavy  trial,  an  intimate  friend,  who 
 was  constantly  with  her  during  the  first  week  after 
 her  husband’s  death,  observes,  in  a  letter  to  the 
 compiler,  written  March  1,  1824,  44  There  was,  in 
 her  whole  deportment,  the  most  convincing  and 
 pleasing  evidence  of  humble,  childlike  submission 
 to  the  divine  will.  Most  of  her  conversation  with 
 me  at  that  time,  worthy  of  being  recorded  as  I  felt 
 it  to  be,  I  regret  that  I  am  compelled  to  say,  has 
 escaped  my  memory.  I  will,  however,  add  a  few 
 particulars,  in  the  unconnected  manner  in  which  they 
 occur  to  my  recollection, 
 
 44  I  remember  asking  her,  on  the  day  succeeding 
 the  death  of  Mr.  Huntington,  if  it  required  an  effort 
 to  be  submissive.  She  answered,  4  I  am  enabled  to 
 bless  God,  that  I  have  not  had  to  contend  with  an 
 unbelieving  thought.  I  would  rather  have  endured 
 the  agony  of  separation,  than  that  my  dear  husband 
 should  have  borne  it.  I  can  truly  say,  6  ’Tis  the 
 survivor  dies.’  ’ 
 
 44  On  another  occasion  she  said  to  me,  4  The 
 bitterness  of  my  grief  can  be  known  only  to  God  and 
 my  own  soul.  But  I  think  I  can  say,  4  Though  he 
 slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  him,’  and  can  lay  hold 
 on  the  hand  that  smites  for  support.  But  oh  the 
 loneliness  of  widowhood  !  I  am  as  Peter  sinking  in 
 deep  waters.’ 
 
 *  Memoir  of  the  Rev.  Joshua  Huntington,  published  in  the 
 Panoplist,  for  December,  1819. 
 
262 
 
 The  resignation  and  calmness  she  was  enabled 
 to  feel,  she  ascribed  e  to  the  mercy  of  God,  in  an¬ 
 swer  to  the  prayers  of  his  dear  people,’  many  of 
 whom,  she  knew,  constantly  remembered  her  in  their 
 supplications.” 
 
 But  the  most  interesting  and  satisfactory  details, 
 in  relation  to  this  important  period  of  her  life,  are 
 found  in  her  journal  and  letters ;  extracts  from  which 
 will  now  be  continued. 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  OF  N.  L.  THEN  AT  BRIDGE- 
 
 WATER. 
 
 Boston,  September  22,  1819. 
 
 I  received  your  kind  letter,  my  dear  sister,  this 
 forenoon.  I  am  happy  to  say  that  I  have  passed  the 
 time,  since  you  left  me,  much  more  comfortably  than 
 I  expected.  God  is  very  gracious  to  me.  He  gives 
 me  such  a  measure  of  sweet  quietness,  as  composes 
 and  tranquillizes  my  spirits.  “  Blessed  is  the  man 
 who  trusteth  in  the  Lord,  and  whose  hope  the  Lord 
 is :  for  he  shall  be  as  a  tree  planted  by  the  waters, 
 and  that  spreadeth  out  her  roots  by  the  river,  and 
 shall  not  see  when  heat  cometh,  but  her  leaf  shall 
 be  green;  and  shall  not  be  careful  in  the  year  of 
 drought,  neither  shall  cease  from  yielding  fruit.” 
 Sometimes  I  have  fears  that  the  precious  promises 
 of  God’s  word  cannot  belong  to  one  so  vile  and  re¬ 
 bellious.  But  I  am  generally  able  to  flee  to  the 
 blood  of  sprinkling — to  trust  in  Him  in  whom  all 
 the  promises  of  God  are  yea  and  amen,  and  to  say, 
 c<  Lord,  thou  knowest  all  things ;  thou  knowest  that 
 I  love  thee.”  Yes,  my  dear  sister,  on  God’s  part  all 
 
263 
 
 is  mercy,  mercy  !  The  world  has  changed  with  me. 
 But  the  memory  of  the  blessed  saint  is  pleasant, 
 though  mournful,  to  the  soul.  The  prospect  of  hea¬ 
 ven  makes  the  dark  shades  of  my  picture  brighter. 
 
 I  think  I  am  not  deceived. 
 
 September  25.  The  desolating  stroke  my  soul  was 
 dreading,  when  I  last  wrote  in  this  journal,  has  fallen 
 upon  me.  Yes,  it  has  fallen  upon  me — and  I  live! 
 What  shall  I  say?  The  right  hand  of  the  Lord 
 doeth  valiantly,  or  I  should  now  have  dwelt  in  si¬ 
 lence.  Wonderful  grace  !  He  that  hath  loved 
 me  bore  me  through.  His  everlasting  arm  was 
 under  me.  He  taught  and  enabled  me  to  say,  66  Thy 
 will  be  done.”  To  him  be  glory.  The  being  I 
 loved  better  than  myself  has  left  me  in  this  wilder¬ 
 ness.  He  on  whom  I  leaned  has  gone  over  Jordan. 
 But  another  arm,  mightier  than  his,  sustains  me.  I 
 can  say,  I  humbly  believe  with  truth,  u  Neverthe¬ 
 less  I  am  not  alone,  for  God  is  with  me.”  And  I 
 must  again  cry,  Grace  !  grace  !  I  am  a  wonder  to 
 ‘  myself.  Oh  the  infinite  grace  of  God  !  A  worm 
 is  in  the  furnace,  and  is  not  consumed !  And  must 
 I  not  love  this  66  strong  Deliverer”  better  than  all? 
 Shall  I  not  cheerfully  give  up  my  comforts  at  his 
 command  ? 
 
 October  3.  When  I  can,  I  intend  writing  some 
 of  the  particulars  of  my  blessed  husband’s  departure, 
 for  future  satisfaction,  should  I  live.  When  I  look 
 at  my  loss  only,  I  sink.  What  I  lost  in  that  holy 
 man  of  God,  that  amiable  companion,  that  faithful 
 friend,  that  prudent  counsellor,  that  devoted  hus¬ 
 band,  God  knows  !  What  the  church  has  lost,  in 
 
264 
 
 his  eminent  consecration  of  himself  to  his  work,  his 
 love  to  the  poor,  his  compassion  to  the  afflicted,  his 
 meekness  and  humility,  his  zeal  and  disinterested¬ 
 ness,  his  fervent  prayers,  his  lovely  and  almost  spot¬ 
 less  example,  God  knows  !  Oh,  it  is  pleasant  for 
 memory  to  dwell  on  the  recollection  of  what  he  was  ! 
 *Tis  a  beautiful  picture,  on  which  I  must  ever  fasten 
 the  eye  of  my  fond  remembrance  with  satisfaction. 
 But  that  light  is  removed;  put  out,  I  do  not  say. 
 Oh  no  !  He  lives,  to  die  no  more.  And  I  am 
 permitted  to  hope  I  shall,  ere  long,  go  to  him,  and 
 dwell  with  him  for  ever  in  heaven  !  God  is  carrying 
 on  an  infinitely  perfect  plan  of  government.  The 
 removal  of  my  beloved  husband,  in  tbe  midst  of  his 
 usefulness,  is  a  part  of  that  plan.  Shall  I  not  lay  my 
 hand  on  my  mouth,  and  say,  “  Thy  will  be  done?” 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  October  13,  1819. 
 
 My  dear  sister.  My  health  continues  comfort¬ 
 able.  My  spirits  are  better  than  could  have  been 
 expected.  Should  I  live,  I  think  of  spending  next 
 summer  in  the  country,  perhaps  at  A.  Where 
 God  may  then  call  me,  I  know  not.  I  wish  to  feel 
 myself  entirely  at  his  disposal,  to  live  one  day  at  a 
 time ;  and  to  believe  that,  when  tbe  period  comes  for 
 determining  in  what  place  I  shall  pass  the  remnant 
 of  my  days,  my  kind  Parent  will  direct  me.  That 
 place  may  be  Boston ;  it  may  be  in  Connecticut  ; 
 or  it  may  be  some  where  else.  God  knows,  and 
 with  him  I  leave  it.  My  expenses  would  be  less  in 
 some  other  place  than  in  Boston.  But  my  children 
 
265 
 
 have  other  interests  besides  pecuniary  ones ;  interests 
 which  the  parent  on  earth  and  the  Parent  in  heaven 
 view  as  most  important.  Where,  upon  the  whole, 
 I  judge  these  interests  will  be  best  promoted,  there 
 I  shall  go. 
 
 The  Old  South  Society  have  been  very  generous. 
 They  have  voted  to  give  me  the  use  of  the  parsonage- 
 house,  all  my  wood,  and  the  salary  for  one  year  from 
 the  first  of  this  month;  and  one  thousand  dollars 
 a  year,  for  six  years,  commencing  October  1,  1820. 
 So,  you  see,  comfortable  provision  is  made  for  us  for 
 the  next  seven  years.  And  more  than  this,  for  I 
 shall  be  able,  I  trust,  to  save  something  each  year 
 against  the  future.  At  any  rate,  I  must,  if  possible, 
 live  on  the  thousand  dollars.  That,  I  suppose, 
 would  be  an  ample  support  in  N.  L.  But  this  is 
 an  after  consideration.  Present  duty  and  present 
 grace  it  best  becomes  me  to  be  looking  for.  And, 
 my  dear  sister,  my  God  is  good.  For  the  most  part, 
 I  can  cheerfully  leave  futurities  with  him,  humbly 
 hoping  that  he  will  enable  me  to  glorify  him,  wherever 
 I  am,  and  however  I  am.  This  is  the  great  point. 
 And  when  I  leave  all  quietly  to  Him  who,  with  the 
 gift  of  his  Son,  will  most  certainly  give  his  children 
 all  things  best  for  them,  I  am  happy. 
 
 October  14. 
 
 Thus  far  the  Lord  hath  led  me  on. 
 
 He  has  been  better  to  me  than  my  fears.  I  have 
 great  comfort  in  my  children.  God  has  very  merci¬ 
 fully  provided  for  my  temporal  wants.  I  have  cause 
 to  mourn  only  my  own  sinfulness.  Heaven  does 
 not  look  so  near  to  me  as  it  did.  I  have  come  back, 
 
 M  41 
 
266 
 
 in  some  measure,  to  earth.  The  wound  bleeds; 
 and  will,  while  life  lasts,  continue  to  bleed;  but  the 
 first  anguish  is  exchanged  for  suffering  as  real,  but 
 less  intense.  The  restless  agony  of  my  sleeping 
 moments,  has  yielded  to  a  watchfulness  less  disturbed; 
 and  the  tears  and  groans  of  a  heart  alive  to  sorrow, 
 while  the  senses  are  slumbering,  have  in  a  great 
 measure  ceased.  But  I  mourn.  My  precious  hus¬ 
 band  is  dearer  than  I  ever  knew  him  to  be  in  life. 
 Oh  my  Saviour  !  make  me  diligent  and  faithful  in  thy 
 service ;  and,  when  thou  hast  done  with  me  here,  let 
 me  live  with  him  in  thy  presence  for  ever  ! 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  B. 
 
 Boston,  October  26,  1819. 
 
 In  relation  to  my  troubles,  I  wrote  to  you  in 
 
 - ,  and  gave  you  particulars ;  but  it  seems  you 
 
 did  not  receive  my  letter.  I  will  only  say  at  pre¬ 
 sent,  that  I  have  suffered  beyond  expression,  and,  on 
 the  other  hand,  God’s  wonderful  grace  has  stayed 
 my  soul  with  the  strong  aid  of  his  promises ;  so  that 
 as  my  sufferings  have  abounded,  my  consolations  also 
 have  abounded  by  Christ  Jesus.  At  present,  my 
 chief  desire  is  to  glorify  God,  and  my  chief  cause  of 
 sorrow,  that  I  glorify  him  so  little.  Sin  is  my  bit¬ 
 ter,  persevering,  specious,  malignant  enemy,  the  foe 
 which  I  most  dread,  the  greatest  disturber  of  my 
 peace.  When,  at  any  season,  my  soul  is  taken  near 
 to  my  Saviour,  and  satisfied  from  his  fulness,  this 
 treacherous  and  cruel  foe  steps  in,  and  beguiling  me 
 from  my  refuge  and  my  resting-place,  leads  me  far 
 from  his  presence,  which  is  life,  and  from  the  mani- 
 
267 
 
 festations  of  his  love,  which  are  better  than  life.  Oh, 
 when  shall  these  wanderings  be  healed ;  when  shall 
 I  love  and  serve  Him,  whom  I  do  believe  my  soul 
 loveth,  as  I  ought ;  when  shall  I  be  satisfied  with 
 his  likeness ;  when  shall  sin  be  bruised  under  my 
 feet  ? 
 
 Dear  Mrs.  - ,  God  loves  you.  Are  you 
 
 afraid  to  trust  all  with  this  wise,  and  kind,  and  lov¬ 
 ing,  and  unchangeable  Friend  and  Father?  Be¬ 
 lieve  that  he  will  manage  your  concerns  better  than 
 you  could  do  yourself.  Believe  that  as  your  days 
 your  strength  shall  be.  Trust  implicitly  to  your 
 covenant  God.  We  have  no  reason  to  fear  any 
 thing  but  sin.  And  even  over  this  foe,  if  we  are 
 Christians,  we  shall  be  made  conquerors  at  last. 
 Blessed  hope  !  It  is  worth  labouring  for,  worth 
 suffering  for. 
 
 October  81.  It  is  a  grief  and  trouble  to  me  that 
 after  having  experienced  such  a  trial,  so  calculated 
 to  detach  me  from  this  world,  I  find  I  have  an 
 earthly  heart  still.  I  want  now  to  live,  feeling  as 
 Abraham  did  when  he  went  out,  not  knowing  whi¬ 
 ther  he  went;  to  be  seeking  daily  grace  and  daily 
 bread,  taking  no  anxious  thought  for  the  morrow  ; 
 saying, 
 
 I  am  not  concern’d  to  know 
 What  to-morrow’s  fate  will  do ; 
 
 ’Tis  enough  for  me  to  say 
 God  supplies  my  wants  to-day. 
 
 But,  instead  of  this,  I  find  myself  saying,  6  Where 
 shall  I  fix  my  place  of  future  residence  ?  How  shall 
 I  ever  do  my  duty  to  all  these  children  ?  How  shall 
 
 M  2 
 
268 
 
 I  manage  to  make  my  little  property  turn  to  the 
 most  advantageous  account?’  &c.  &c.  Oh,  my  Fa¬ 
 ther  !  I  know  that  after  all  these  things  do  the  Gen¬ 
 tiles  seek  with  carefulness ;  and  that  it  is  not  well, 
 it  is  sinful,  for  me  to  be  seeking  them  thus. 
 
 I  have  been  lamenting  before  God  to-day  my 
 great  guilt  in  this  respect,  and  feel  somewhat  re¬ 
 lieved.  I  have  been  giving  myself  again  entirely 
 to  him,  desiring  to  trust  in  him  with  a  simple  de¬ 
 pendence  ;  to  stand  ready  to  go  where  he  shall  ap¬ 
 point  ;  to  do  and  to  be  just  what  he  pleases ;  to  find 
 my  future  pleasure  in  doing,  with  a  holy  courage, 
 and  humility,  and  energy,  the  work  which  he  shall 
 give  me  to  do.  How  pleasant  will  even  my  widowed 
 life  be,  if  I  can  thus  live  !  No  matter  where  we 
 are,  or  what  we  are,  so  long  as  we  can  find  our  hap¬ 
 piness  in  glorifying  God,  and  in  doing  and  suffering 
 his  will.  Oh  blessed,  happy  life  !  This  was  the 
 happiness  of  the  apostles  and  primitive  Christians, 
 who  suffered  the  loss  of  all  things  temporal,  were 
 persecuted,  afflicted,  tormented,  and  slain ;  and  yet 
 sang  the  song  of  victory,  through  Jesus  Christ  their 
 Lord,  on  the  rack  and  in  the  flames.  This  is  the 
 very  essence  of  heavenly  felicity.  With  a  capacity 
 to  enjoy  this  happiness,  we  might  well  say,  with  the 
 Psalmist,  “  Though  the  earth  be  removed,  though 
 the  mountains  be  carried  into  the  midst  of  the  sea, 
 we  will  not  fear.”  Oh  my  God  !  I  am  fully  satis¬ 
 fied  that  here  is  the  only  quiet  resting-place.  Help 
 me,  oh  help  me,  thus  to  stay  myself  only  on  thee  ! 
 Then  shall  I  be  happy. 
 
 November  5.  Nearly  two  months  have  elapsed 
 since  the  hand  of  the  Lord  removed  from  me  my 
 
269 
 
 earthly  prop  and  comfort ;  and  I  can  say,  in  the  lan¬ 
 guage  of  Mrs.  Grant  on  a  similar  occasion,  6(  Mine 
 is  a  growing  sorrow.  Like  other  streams,  it  widens 
 as  it  proceeds.”  It  may  seem  strange,  but  I  have 
 felt  a  mournful  pleasure,  that  if  we  must  be  sepa¬ 
 rated,  if  these  heart-rending  agonies  must  be  en¬ 
 dured  by  one  of  us,  I  am  the  sufferer,  and  he  is 
 happy.  It  is  sweet  to  me  to  know,  and  reflect,  that 
 God  loved  him  better  than  I  did.  We  both,  I 
 trust,  loved  our  God  supremely,  and  shall  love  him 
 for  ever.  Oh  the  blessed  truths  of  Christianity  ! 
 These  bear  up  my  spirit  amidst  the  waves  and 
 billows  of  affliction.  I  am  afflicted,  but  not  in  de¬ 
 spair;  cast  down,  but  not  destroyed;  sorrowful,  yet 
 sometimes  rejoicing.  Dear,  blessed  saint !  we  shall 
 meet,  I  trust,  where  adieus  and  farewells  are  sounds 
 unknown ! 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N. 
 
 Boston ,  November  7,  1819/ 
 So  far  as  human  sympathy  can  operate  to  heal  a 
 heart  torn  by  a  wound  like  mine,  it  has  availed  for 
 me.  Few  ever  had  more  affecting  and  soothing 
 proofs  of  tender  concern  and  affectionate  commisera¬ 
 tion  than  myself.  I  number  this  among  the  many 
 mercy-drops  which  my  kind  Father  has  mingled  in 
 my  cup  of  sorrow.  Few  had  so  much  to  lose.  But 
 this  would  make  my  ingratitude  the  deeper,  were  I 
 to  murmur  at  the  removal  of  a  mercy  which  I  never 
 deserved ;  especially  when  its  removal  has  been  ac¬ 
 companied  with  so  many,  so  very  many,  mitigating 
 circumstances.  No :  though  God  witnesses  the 
 
270 
 
 tears  of  agony  which  daily  force  themselves  from 
 eyes  long  accustomed  to  weeping,  I  trust  he  does 
 not  behold  them  tears  of  impatient  repining,  or  im¬ 
 pious  rebellion.  I  think  I  can  say,  He  hath  done 
 all  things  well.  I  think  I  feel,  that  he  has  a  right 
 to  govern,  and  can  comfort  myself  with  the  sure  and 
 certain  conviction,  that  his  plan  of  government  will 
 be  most  conducive  to  his  own  glory,  and  to  the  hap¬ 
 piness  of  his  people.  In  this  trying  dispensation 
 the  question  has  arisen,  Which  shall  govern,  God 
 or  myself?  And,  blessed  be  his  name  !  I  am  not 
 conscious  that,  for  one  moment,  I  have  felt  disposed 
 to  take  the  reins  of  dominion  into  my  own  hands. 
 
 4  God  knows  best/  This  silences,  and  prevailingly 
 satisfies,  my  troubled  soul. 
 
 How  does  the  world  dwindle  when  heaven  comes 
 near  !  And  how  cheerfully  can  difficulties  be  sur¬ 
 mounted,  and  trials  endured,  and  duties  performed, 
 and  sacrifices  made,  while  we  look  not  at  the  things 
 which  are  seen,  but  at  the  things  which  are  not 
 seen  !  The  great  difficulty  is,  to  keep  a  steady  eye 
 of  faith  on  futurity,  and  the  great  example  of  the 
 Author  and  Finisher  of  our  faith  in  view;  to  remem¬ 
 ber  that  we  were  created  to  C(  glorify  God  and  enjoy 
 him  for  ever;”  and  that  therefore  the  main  object 
 of  our  creation,  and  of  course  the  main  ground  of 
 our  happiness,  cannot  be  affected  materially,  by  the 
 temporal  changes  through  which  we  pass,  while  this 
 object  is  pursued.  Oh,  this  is  the  difficulty  !  Faith 
 wavers.  We  want  to  find  our  happiness  in  earthly 
 comforts ;  and  when  they  are  removed,  we  feel  as  if 
 all  was  gone.  Hear  brother  and  sister,  pray  for  me. 
 Pray  that  I  may  have  double  grace,  as  I  have  now 
 
271 
 
 double  duty  to  perform.  Pray  for  the  children  of 
 him  whom  you  loved.  Let  us  pray  for  each  other, 
 that  God  will  bless  us  in  all  things,  and  bring  us  at 
 last  to  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light. 
 
 November  9. 
 
 No  more  shall  this  bosom,  when  heaving  with  anguish, 
 
 In  the  kind  breast  of  sympathy  seek  for  relief, 
 
 While  helpless  I  wander,  or  hopeless  I  languish ; 
 
 Ah,  cold  is  the  heart  that  would  share  all  my  grief! 
 
 Consuming  thought !  Who  shall  ever  more  wipe 
 the  tear  of  sorrow  from  these  weeping  eyes,  or  lend 
 the  ear  of  undissembled  sympathy  to  the  complain¬ 
 ings  of  this  broken  heart  ?  Who  shall  bend,  with 
 the  smile  of  tenderness,  over  my  bed  of  suffering,  and 
 cheer  me  with  the  voice  of  affection  ?  Alas  !  alas  ! 
 no  change  can  ever  restore  him  to  these  widowed 
 arms  !  And  I  should  go  down  to  the  grave  in  sor¬ 
 row,  were  it  not  that  God  is  my  helper. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  N.  H. 
 
 Boston ,  November  14,  1819. 
 
 Your  long  and  confidential  letter  gave  me  great 
 pleasure.  There  is  a  sympathy  in  the  feeling  of 
 persons  who  have  been  recently  afflicted,  which  can¬ 
 not  be  expected  to  be  found  in  others ;  a  mutual 
 chord  which,  touched,  vibrates  with  a  kindred  sound. 
 We  have  not  suffered  exactly  alike;  but  we  have 
 suffered;  and  that  circumstance  has  made  us  love 
 each  other  better  than  we  did  before. 
 
 But,  my  dear  friend,  in  our  recent  trials,  neither 
 of  us  have  been  called  to  suffer  as  those  who  have  no 
 
272 
 
 hope.  And  how  does  the  reflection,  that  our  de¬ 
 parted  friends  have  now  reached  the  point  which  we 
 must  reach  before  we  can  be  happy,  sweeten  and 
 sooth  the  anguish  of  the  separation !  Let  us  con¬ 
 template  them  in  every  supposable  view,  and  the 
 prospect  is  full  of  consolation.  We  cannot  think  of 
 them  as  what  they  were,  or  what  they  are,  without 
 pleasure.  They  are  the  highly-favoured  of  the 
 Lord,  who,  having  finished  all  they  had  to  do  in  this 
 vale  of  tears,  are  admitted  to  the  higher  services  of 
 the  upper  temple.  True,  when  we  look  at  our  loss, 
 nature  will  feel.  This  is  allowable,  is  becoming. 
 When  I  view  myself,  riven  asunder,  root  and  branch, 
 not  the  limbs  torn  away,  but  the  very  body  of  the 
 tree  sundered  from  top  to  bottom,  nature  must  feel 
 the  parting  agonies,  must  at  times  be  ready  to  sink 
 under  the  consciousness  of  her  dissolution.  All  this 
 must  be,  to  those  who  have  interests  to  be  smitten, 
 friendships  to  be  broken,  and  hearts  to  feel. 
 
 Yes,  dear  E.  our  hearts  have  bled.  The  wound 
 inflicted  has  been  deep.  We  have  felt  that  the 
 stroke  was  full  of  anguish,  that  it  went  to  our  very 
 souls.  We  will  not  deny  that  this  is  all  true.  We 
 will  not  please  ourselves  with  the  delusion  that  the 
 deep,  deep  wound  which  the  hand  of  God  has  in¬ 
 flicted  can  ever  cease  to  bleed.  But,  O  my  friend ! 
 is  there  not  balm  in  Gilead  ?  is  there  not  a  physician 
 there  ?  Is  not  that  physician  our  Saviour  ?  wise  to 
 discern,  prudent  to  manage,  strong  to  save  ?  Has 
 not  the  kind  hand  which  smote  so  deeply,  accom¬ 
 panied  the  stroke  with  many  softening,  mitigating 
 circumstances  ?  O  yes  !  I  trust  we  both  feel  that 
 it  is  so.  It  is  God  who  hath  afflicted  us ;  the  in- 
 
273 
 
 finitely  wise,  compassionate,  and  faithful  Jehovah, 
 the  Lord  our  God.  And  does  it  not  argue  great 
 want  of  confidence  in  him,  if  we  sink  into  despon¬ 
 dency  when  he  chastises  us?  Does  it  not  show, 
 either  that  we  think  we  could  manage  things  better 
 than  he  can,  or  that  there  is  something  which  we 
 have  not  cordially  submitted  to  his  disposal  ? 
 
 And  now,  O  God,  thou  art  the  potter,  and  we 
 the  clay.  O  how  this  quells  the  murmurings  of  self- 
 will  ;  how  it  settles  the  restlessness  of  the  troubled 
 spirit ;  how  it  plucks  the  sting  from  the  rod  of  afflic¬ 
 tion  !  God  knows  best.  Precious  truth  !  It  is  as 
 an  anchor  to  the  soul,  sure  and  steadfast,  which  keeps 
 it  from  shipwreck,  amidst  all  the  storms  and  tempests 
 of  the  troubled  sea  of  life.  Oh  for  a  firm,  unwaver¬ 
 ing  faith  !  This  is  all  that  is  wanting.  With  this 
 we  may  say, 
 
 Cheerful  I  tread  the  desert  through. 
 
 With  this  we  may  rejoice  when  our  beloved  friends 
 are  taken  from  the  stormy  ocean  to  the  peaceful  port 
 — from  the  weary  wilderness  to  the  happy  home — 
 from  the  field  of  conflict  to  the  crown  of  victory;  and 
 trace,  with  holy  courage,  our  way  through  the  same 
 difficulties  to  the  same  glorious  recompense  of  re¬ 
 ward.  But  ah  !  this,  a  firm,  unwavering  faith,  is 
 too  often  wanting.  We  miss  our  temporal  comforts. 
 The  heart  which  sympathized  in  all  our  pleasures 
 and  pains  has  ceased  to  beat ;  the  ear  which  was  al¬ 
 ways  open  to  listen  to  our  complaints  and  wishes  is 
 closed ;  the  kind  voice  of  affection  and  disinterested 
 love  is  hushed ;  the  arm  which  supported  us  is  with¬ 
 drawn.  It  is  a  chilling  thought.  Cherished  alone, 
 
 M  3 
 
274 
 
 we  feel  its  freezing,  benumbing  influence,  fastening 
 upon  all  the  springs  of  comfort  and  hope,  and  turn¬ 
 ing  every  stream  of  joy  into  one  waste  of  cold  and 
 motionless  despair. 
 
 But,  my  dear  friend,  we  must  not  view  our  trials 
 thus.  We  must  think  much  and  often  of  the  bless¬ 
 edness  of  those  whose  removal  we  lament,  of  the 
 perfection  of  the  divine  government,  of  the  certainty 
 of  the  promise  that  all  things  shall  work  together 
 for  good  to  them  that  love  God,  of  the  rapid  ap¬ 
 proach  of  that  hour  which  will  unite  us  eternally 
 to  those  in  Christ  whom  we  love,  of  the  danger  oi 
 creature-comforts,  and  of  the  suffering  life  on  earth 
 of  our  glorious  High  Priest  and  Head,  and  his  as¬ 
 surance  that  it  is  through  much  tribulation  we  must 
 enter  the  kingdom.  Oh,  my  dear  E.  if  we  are 
 Christians,  there  is  a  glorious  prospect  before  us — 
 as  much  of  the  good  things  of  this  life  as  an  infi¬ 
 nitely  wise  and  kind  Father  sees  to  be  best  for  us, 
 and  hereafter  an  eternity  of  unmingled  and  ineffable 
 bliss  ! 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  Y. 
 
 Boston ,  November  21,  1819. 
 
 Sometimes  I  feel  very  sweetly  that  God  is  my 
 Father;  can  look  back,  and  see  how  I  have  been 
 borne  on  his  kind  arms  from  my  birth,  distinguished 
 by  many  special  mercies,  led  in  a  right  way;  and 
 trust  him  for  the  future — and  I  am  happy.  But  it 
 is  not  always  so.  At  times  faith  wavers,  and  I  feel 
 as  if  I  were  sinking  in  the  deep  waters,  where  there 
 is  no  standing. 
 
275 
 
 My  dear  sister,  there  is  no  resting-place  short  of 
 heaven.  There  is  no  certain  dependence  upon  any 
 temporal  comfort,  which  does  not  take  its  rise  from  a 
 heart  thoroughly  satisfied  to  have  God  govern  as  he 
 pleases.  He  is  leading  the  Christian,  through  a 
 dark  and  dangerous  wilderness,  to  a  city  of  habita¬ 
 tion,  the  New  Jerusalem,  the  land  flowing  with  milk 
 and  honey.  And  he  is  wise  to  know  what  is  best  for 
 the  poor  wayward  pilgrim  whom  he  is  guiding  to 
 glory,  and  faithful  to  do  it.  We  are  not  always 
 able  to  see  how  it  is  that  his  dispensations  toward 
 us  are  either  wise  or  faithful.  It  becomes  us,  how¬ 
 ever,  whether  we  can  see  it  or  not,  to  believe  that  it 
 is  so ;  and  to  labour  after  the  spirit  of  Him  who  said, 
 in  his  extremity,  <fi  Nevertheless,  not  as  I  will,  but 
 as  thou  wilt.” 
 
 Baxter  says  to  the  Christian  in  affliction,  (i  If  you 
 are  comforted  now,  you  must  not  expect  comfort 
 always,  for  God  sees  that  you  need  hours  of  very 
 different  exercises.”  I  experience  a  great  variety 
 of  feeling.  To-day  sorrow  has  prevailed.  I  have 
 thought  of  the  long,  long  separation  I  have  been 
 called  to  from  the  husband  of  my  bosom,  and  shud¬ 
 dered  to  look  forward.  An  awful  chasm  presents 
 itself  to  my  view,  and  my  spirit  is  overwhelmed  with¬ 
 in  me.  But  the  precious  truths  of  the  Christian  re¬ 
 ligion  then  come  in  for  my  support.  I  look  to  the 
 “  Man  of  sorrows.”  I  view  him  passing  a  life  of 
 suffering,  unmitigated  by  the  sympathies  of  human 
 relations  and  friends ;  a  stranger  to  the  comforts  a 
 merciful  God  has  left  me,  having  not  where  to  lay 
 his  head,  persecuted,  denied,  crucified,  working  out 
 the  salvation  of  an  unthankful  world,  through  diffi- 
 
culties,  and  dangers,  and  death  ;  and  remember  that, 
 as  a  man,  he  was  undefiled  and  separate  from  sinners, 
 and  that  he  was  the  Son  of  God — and  I  chide  my 
 ungrateful  heart  for  being  unwilling  to  suffer  any 
 thing  for  him.  Oh,  my  sister,  if  God  will  bring  us 
 to  heaven  at  last,  it  should  not  surprise  us  if  we,  like 
 our  exalted  Head,  must  be  made  perfect  through  suf¬ 
 ferings  ! 
 
 I  send  you  a  subscription-paper  for  the  Sermons, 
 which  it  is  intended  soon  to  publish,  of  the  blessed 
 man  whom  we  all  loved.  May  their  publication 
 brighten  his  crown  of  glory ! 
 
 November  27.  Another  calamity  !  Some  person 
 found  access  yesterday  to  my  bureau,  stole  some  of 
 my  best  wearing  apparel,  and,  what  is  worse,  from  a 
 drawer  usually  locked,  but  for  two  hours  at  that 
 time  unlocked,  a  box  containing  Mr.  Huntington’s 
 miniature,  the  chain,  a  breast-pin  with  his  hair  in  it, 
 a  pair  of  ear-rings  which  he  purchased  for  me  in 
 Montreal  on  his  last  journey,  and  some  articles 
 found  in  his  pocket  after  his  death  ;  including  all  the 
 little  presents  in  jewellery  he  ever  gave  me,  except 
 a  broken  ring,  by  accident  in  another  place.  This 
 only  is  left.  Sad  emblem  of  our  broken  union.  I 
 am  greatly  afflicted.  It  seems  like  sacrilege  to  plun¬ 
 der  me  of  these  mementos  of  my  departed  husband. 
 
277 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  Y. 
 
 Boston ,  December  30,  1819. 
 
 It  is  just  four  weeks  to-night  since  the  birth  of 
 my  little  boy.  I  have  not  yet  been  able  to  use  the 
 pen  much,  on  account  of  my  eyes,  though  I  have 
 been  remarkably  comfortable.  I  dined  down  stairs 
 yesterday  week.  My  spirits  are  for  the  most  part 
 cpiiet.  You  will  tell  me  I  should  now  think  and 
 speak  of  my  mercies  rather  than  my  trials.  O  yes  ! 
 I  know  it;  and  God  has  indeed  been  very  gracious 
 to  me.  I  have  no  reason  to  complain  of  him  or  of 
 any  of  his  dealings.  Nor  should  I  be  anxious  about 
 the  future.  My  business  is  to  fill  up  the  present 
 with  humble  performance  of,  and  patient  submission 
 to,  the  will  of  Him  whose  government  is  righteous, 
 who  does  all  things  well,  and  all  whose  purposes  have 
 for  their  object  the  everlasting  welfare  of  them  that 
 love  him.  O  for  large  portions  of  that  blessed  hope 
 which  is  as  an  anchor  to  the  soul !  a  hope  that  will 
 keep  all  who  possess  it  from  being  shipwrecked  on 
 the  troubled  waters  of  affliction,  though  they  may  be 
 tossed  and  driven  from  billow  to  billow,  and  at  times 
 feel  as  if  they  must  give  up  all  for  lost !  1  would 
 
 not,  I  do  not  complain,  though  my  breach  is  wide 
 like  the  sea.  God  is  good,  and  I  am  comparatively 
 happy.  I  believe  heaven  is  my  home.  That  pros¬ 
 pect  brightens  this  dark  valley. 
 
 Mrs.  Mason #  is  probably  within  a  few  days  of 
 
 *  An  aged  member  of  the  church  of  which  Mr.  Huntington 
 was  pastor,  greatly  respected  and  loved  for  her  humble,  devoted, 
 and  consistent  piety. 
 
278 
 
 her  long-expected,  long-desired  rest.  The  removal 
 of  her  beloved  shepherd,  though  she  acquiesced,  and 
 on  his  account  rejoiced  in  the  dispensation,  was  like 
 a  blow  at  the  root.  The  effects  of  the  stroke  evinced 
 its  heaviness ;  and  the  dear  woman  will  not  remain 
 long  behind  him  she  loved  so  sincerely.  Oh,  what 
 a  meeting ! 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  B. 
 
 Boston,  January  12,  1820. 
 
 - Now  I  will  turn  to  a  more  pleasant  subject, 
 
 and  tell  you  how  delightful  the  time  looks,  when  I 
 shall  go  to  him  who  loved  me,  and  who  has  left  so 
 many  sad,  sad  remembrances  behind  him ;  and  above 
 all,  when  I  shall  go  to  Him  who,  I  trust,  loved  me 
 unto  death.  Oh,  my  dear  H.  it  is  sweet  to  rest  in 
 the  Lord! 
 
 Time,  what  an  empty  vapour  ’tis! 
 
 But  no  matter.  The  shorter  it  is,  perhaps,  the  bet¬ 
 ter,  if  our  work  be  done. 
 
 How  precious  is  a  throne  of  grace  !  How  many 
 cordials  has  our  kind  Father  provided  to  strengthen 
 and  sustain  us,  till  our  feet  shall  be  planted  on 
 Mount  Zion  above,  to  wander  no  more  for  ever  ! 
 Oh,  H.  I  trust  we  shall  have  a  glorious  meeting 
 there !  6i  God  is  known  in  her  palaces  for  a  refuge.” 
 How  beautiful  is  the  idea !  How  little  is  known 
 on  this  blessed  subject  by  the  world  !  And  should 
 not  this  consideration  urge  us  constantly  to  pray  for 
 them  ?  Alas  !  my  conscience  condemns  me  here. 
 How  little  I  feel  for  the  poor  sufferers  who  have  no 
 
279 
 
 knowledge  of  this  refuge,  who  catch  at  every  straw 
 for  support,  who  buoy  themselves  up  for  a  little  time 
 with  the  vain  hopes  of  this  world,  and,  with  the  Rock 
 of  ages  full  in  view,  sink  for  ever ! 
 
 January  14.  How  good  is  God  to  one  of  the 
 most  unworthy  of  his  creatures  !  When  I  feel,  as 
 I  do  sometimes,  entirely  sundered  from  earthly  hope 
 and  happiness,  I  go  to  my  God,  and  I  find  his  arm 
 strong,  his  grace  sufficient,  his  presence  precious,  his 
 promises  sure.  I  am  happy  in  his  will,  and  I  look 
 forward  to  be  happy  in  his  love  and  presence  for  ever. 
 Then  I  have  sweet  communion  with  a  present  God. 
 He  is  near  me ;  I  feel  that  he  is.  The  example  of 
 my  once  suffering  Saviour  supports  me.  But  oh  ! 
 when  he  withdraws,  all  is  dark  !  I  have  no  hope  but 
 his  mercy.  That  bears  me  up.  I  have  not  followed 
 a  cunningly-devised  fable. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  A. 
 
 Boston ,  January  14,  1820. 
 
 You  ask  how  I  bore  my  inexpressible  loss.  To 
 my  own  astonishment,  I  bore  it,  not  only  without 
 sinking,  without  murmuring,  but  with  calmness,  with 
 a  quiet  satisfaction  in  the  will  of  God,  and  an  humble 
 hope  of  strength,  support,  and  all  needful  grace  here, 
 and  heaven  hereafter.  The  unspeakable  consola¬ 
 tions  of  that  bitter  hour,  I  cannot  tell  you ;  nor  how 
 a  merciful  God  has,  a  great  part  of  the  time  since, 
 appeared  for  one  of  the  most  unworthy,  stood  by  me 
 in  my  difficulties,  strengthened  me  with  his  strength, 
 supported  me  with  his  presence,  and  manifested  to 
 
280 
 
 me  his  fatherly  love.  I  speak  this  to  the  glory  of 
 his  grace.  Heaven  knows,  that  in  the  whole  num¬ 
 ber  composing  the  family  of  Christ,  there  can  few  be 
 found  less  able,  in  their  own  strength,  to  bear  such 
 a  calamity  than  myself.  I  loved  the  blessed  saint, 
 perhaps  idolatrously.  My  feelings  are  naturally  un¬ 
 controllable.  My  bodily  health  was  delicate.  None 
 had  more  to  lose.  And  all  was,  at  a  time  of  peculiar 
 sensibility,  swept  away.  On  the  one  hand,  my  heart 
 was  breaking  with  the  intenseness  of  its  separating 
 agonies.  On  the  other,  God  was  sustaining  with 
 the  strong  cordials  of  the  gospel.  So  that,  as  my 
 sufferings  abounded,  my  consolations  also  abounded 
 by  Jesus  Christ. 
 
 And  now,  what  shall  we  say  to  these  things  ? 
 Truly,  my  friend,  religion  is  a  reality,  a  precious 
 reality  !  Christianity  holds  out  not  only  principles 
 the  most  pure  and  practical,  which,  when  properly 
 received,  have  the  best  influence  on  the  character  of 
 man  in  every  relation  he  sustains,  but  consolations  so 
 sublime  in  their  nature,  so  efficacious  in  their  appli¬ 
 cation,  as  can  leave  no  doubt,  in  the  minds  of  those 
 who  experience  them,  of  its  truth.  In  prosperity  we 
 may  believe  as  though  we  believed  not ;  but  when  we 
 find  ourselves  sheltered  in  the  cleft  of  the  rock,  while 
 the  storm  is  raging  without — when  we  feel  the  anchor 
 of  our  hope  holding  us  firm  and  strong,  while  the 
 waves  of  sorrow  are  tossing  us  hither  and  thither, 
 and  we  are  every  moment  threatened  with  shipwreck, 
 — surely  we  can  doubt  no  longer. 
 
 January  2 1.  No  person,  I  believe,  ever  had  more 
 or  kinder  friends  than  I  have.  And  none,  I  am 
 
281 
 
 sure,  ever  needed  them  more.  It  is  a  special  mercy 
 of  a  faithful,  covenant-keeping  God.  But  the  kind 
 sympathies  and  good  offices  of  comparative  strangers, 
 is  what  I  could  not  have  expected.  O  how  much 
 mercy  have  I  to  speak  of !  Rouse  up,  slothful  soul ! 
 Press  all  thy  powers,  with  renewed  resolution,  into 
 the  service  of  66  thy  Love,  thy  Life,  thy  All.”  I 
 have  peace,  sweet  peace  of  mind,  and  communion 
 with  the  God  of  my  salvation.  My  seasons  of  prayer 
 are  generally  precious  moments,  in  which  I  draw  near 
 to  God.  He  is  my  helper.  His  word  is  most  sweet ; 
 I  feed  upon  it,  and  am  strengthened.  He  is  faithful. 
 To  him  be  glory,  glory,  for  ever  and  ever.  Let  me 
 take  stronger  and  stronger  hold  of  the  Rock  of  ages  ! 
 especially  let  me  grow  in  humility !  Oh  the  un¬ 
 searchable  goodness  of  God ! 
 
 Evening,  Well  do  1  know  what  Montgomery 
 meant  by  (t  the  changing  spirits’  rise  and  fall.” 
 Mine  have  fallen  to-day.  O  how  lonely  I  feel ! 
 
 How  widowed  every  thought  of  every  joy  ! 
 
 His  last  sigh 
 
 Dissolved  the  charm.  The  disenchanted  earth 
 
 Lost  all  her  lustre.  Where  her  glittering  towers? 
 
 Her  golden  mountains,  where?  All  darkened  down 
 
 To  naked  waste,  a  dreary  vale  of  tears. 
 
 Perhaps  this  depression  has  resulted  from  my  dis¬ 
 appointment  about  the  publication  of  a  volume  of  my 
 husband’s  sermons,  on  which  I  had  been  depending, 
 I  fear,  too  much.  I  cannot  persuade  myself  that  it 
 is  best  to  give  it  up.  But  the  blessed  man  was 
 always  opposed  to  posthumous  publications,  as  gene¬ 
 rally  wronging  the  author;  and  his  brother,  who  has 
 been  looking  over  the  sermons  he  left,  thinks  that 
 
282 
 
 they  are  in  such  a  state,  (many  abbreviations  and 
 short-hand  characters,  whose  meaning  was  known 
 only  to  the  writer,  having  been  used,  and  many  sen¬ 
 tences  and  paragraphs  left  incomplete,  to  be  filled  up 
 extemporaneously  at  the  time  of  delivery,)  that  he 
 could  not  do  them  justice.  It  is  hard  to  give  it  up. 
 But  hush,  hush,  unquiet  soul !  thy  friend  is  with 
 God ;  and  to  him  shalt  thou  go  if  thou  art  faithful. 
 He  needs  no  such  remembrancer  with  his  Saviour, 
 or  with  thee. 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  Y. 
 
 Boston ,  January  23,  1820. 
 
 Next  Sabbath  I  expect  to  carry  my  little  Joshua 
 to  the  sanctuary,  and  devote  him  to  that  God  whose 
 gift  he  is.  May  the  offering  be  accepted  !  May 
 the  first  lispings  of  his  infant  tongue  be  the  expres¬ 
 sions  of  holy  and  grateful  affections  to  his  Maker 
 and  Redeemer !  I  expect  our  dear  brother  D.  to 
 administer  the  ordinance,  and  Deacon  P.  has  kindly 
 offered  to  stand  up  with  me,  and  present  the  child. 
 I  sometimes  fear  it  will  be  more  than  I  can  bear. 
 But  I  feel  it  to  be  a  duty  to  have  him  baptized  in 
 public;  and  his  dear  father  always  objected  to  private 
 baptisms,  except  on  extraordinary  occasions.  The 
 great  thing,  however,  is  to  do  it  sincerely  and  in 
 faith.  The  Lord  give  me  grace  thus  to  do  it ! 
 
 I  want  time  to  tell  you  how  good  God  has  been 
 to  me.  My  stolen  goods  have  all  been  graciously 
 restored  to  me.  My  mind  was,  for  the  most  part 
 during  my  confinement,  kept  quiet,  notwithstanding 
 the  painful  retrospections  which  would  press  them- 
 
283 
 
 selves  upon  my  attention,  whenever  my  head  touched 
 the  pillow,  where,  on  like  occasions,  I  had  been  so 
 often  soothed  by  a  voice  which  will  speak  to  me  no 
 more,  where  every  object  reminded  me  of  my  un¬ 
 speakable  loss,  where  I  seemed  surrounded  by  the 
 shades  of  the  departed.  Oh,  my  sister,  you  can 
 have  no  idea  of  it !  When  S.  was  born,  dear  Mary 
 Lyon,  my  mother,  and  my  husband,  were  with  me ; 
 now  they  were  all  taken.  But  I  found  the  arm  of 
 the  Lord  strong  to  sustain.  May  my  life  be  ever 
 devoted  to  his  praise.  Trust  him,  my  dear  F. ;  let 
 your  confidence  in  him  grow  stronger  and  stronger; 
 trust  him  for  ever. 
 
 TO  MRS  T.  OF  D.* 
 
 Boston ,  January  25,  1820. 
 
 My  dear  friend  and  sister.  Ever  since  that  sor¬ 
 rowful  event  which  numbered  me  among  those  who 
 can  more  emphatically  than  other  classes  of  mourners 
 say,  64  Lover  and  friend  hast  thou  put  far  from  me, 
 and  mine  acquaintance  into  darkness,”  I  have  felt 
 desirous  of  writing  to  you.  Not  because  I  expected 
 to  offer  any  consolation  to  your  mind,  with  which  it 
 is  not  already  much  better  acquainted  than  mine,  but 
 from  that  natural  feeling  of  sympathy,  which  is  ex¬ 
 cited  towards  those  whose  trials  are  similar  to  our 
 own.  And  now  that  I  have  taken  up  my  pen,  the 
 reflection  that  my  time  might  be  better  occupied 
 
 *  The  widow  of  a  clergyman,  who  in  the  prime  of  life  and  of 
 usefulness  had  been  removed  by  death ;  leaving  five  small  chil¬ 
 dren. 
 
284 
 
 than  in  obtruding  myself  upon  you,  and  thus  open¬ 
 ing  anew  the  fountains  of  your  grief  (if  indeed  they 
 have  ever  been  closed  in  any  measure)  by  the  recital 
 of  my  own  sufferings,  almost  induces  me  to  lay  it 
 down  again.  However,  I  do  not  mean  to  pain  you, 
 and  agonize  myself,  in  this  way.  Profitable  as  it 
 may  be  for  common  mourners,  to  dwell  often  and 
 long  upon  the  circumstances  of  their  bereavements, 
 in  order  to  cherish  the  impressions  which  such  dis¬ 
 pensations  may  have  made  on  their  hearts,  it  is  not 
 profitable  for  us.  Such  sorrow  as  ours  is  in  no  dan¬ 
 ger  of  being  suddenly  diverted.  The  danger  is  on 
 the  other  side,  of  its  pressing  so  constantly  and  heavily 
 on  the  spirit  as  to  crush  the  feeble  body  to  the  grave. 
 And  would  it  not  have  been  so  with  us,  my  dear  friend, 
 were  it  not  that  the  hand  of  the  Lord  has  been  upon 
 us  for  good  ? 
 
 I  have  wished,  and  still  wish,  to  know  how  you 
 do,  what  are  your  circumstances,  and  how  your  mind 
 has  been  exercised  under  its  heavy  afflictions.  I, 
 you  know,  have  had  accumulated  ones.  But  have 
 we  not  both  found  that  precious  promise  verified, 
 66  As  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength  be  ?”  Has  the 
 Lord  ever  been  ((  a  wilderness”  to  us?  And  may 
 we  not  safely  trust  him  for  the  future  ?  Does  he 
 not  know  exactly  what  measure  of  sorrow  we  can 
 bear,  as  well  as  what  kind  we  need  ? 
 
 And  now,  my  friend,  what  remains  for  us  to  do 
 in  this  world?  Not  to  live  for  the  temporal  enjoy¬ 
 ments  of  life  certainly;  for  how  can  any  comfort  be 
 received,  any  delight  enjoyed,  which  will  not,  as 
 long  as  we  live,  be  imbittered  by  the  recollection  of 
 those,  dearer  to  us  than  our  own  lives,  who  once 
 
285 
 
 sympathized  in  all  our  joys,  and  whose  sympathy  with 
 us  was  a  principal  source  of  our  satisfaction?  Yes, 
 this  bitter,  bitter  thought  will  press  itself  upon  our 
 remembrance,  when  we  lie  down  and  when  we  rise 
 up,  in  the  house  and  by  the  way.  And,  viewing  our 
 loss  only  in  this  manner,  the  world  looks  like  a  waste, 
 a  desert,  a  weary  monotonous  desert,  stripped  of  all 
 that  once  enlivened  it.  But  we  must  not  view  it  so. 
 What  did  Christ  live  for  ?  What  did  Paul  live  for  ? 
 Alas  !  if  we  could  find  our  happiness  here  in  that  in 
 which  the  Saviour  found  his,  we  might  yet  see  many 
 good  days  in  the  land  of  the  living.  And  this  is 
 what  we  must  labour  after.  If  we  have  little  left  us 
 to  enjoy,  have  we  nothing  left  us  to  do?  And  the 
 happiness  of  our  souls  ought  to  result,  the  happiness 
 of  a  holy  soul  will  result,  from  doing  and  being  just 
 what  God  pleases.  The  mind  which  feels  that  it 
 has  no  sympathies  to  be  exercised,  no  object  upon 
 which  to  repose  its  affections,  no  business  to  employ 
 its  faculties,  must  sink  into  a  state  of  hopeless  and 
 dreadful  despondency.  But  the  Christian  should 
 never  feel  thus.  Though  our  precious  husbands 
 have  left  us,  have  we  nothing  to  feel  or  do  for  their 
 children ;  nothing  to  do  for  Christ,  and  for  the  church 
 which  he  hath  purchased  with  his  own  blood?  And 
 may  we  not  yet  be  happy  in  doing  diligently  the 
 work  which  he  has  given  us  to  do  ?  My  dear  friend, 
 we  shall  never  be  happy  just  as  we  have  been.  Oh 
 no,  never !  The  smile  of  tenderness  will  wait  for 
 us  no  more  when  returning  to  our  sorrowful  habita¬ 
 tions.  The  voice  of  unmingled  love  will  greet  us 
 no  more  in  our  afflictions.  The  counsellors,  advisers. 
 
286 
 
 supporters,  and  prophets,  upon  whom  we  leaned,  who 
 sanctioned  by  their  influence  the  expressions  of  ma¬ 
 ternal  authority,  who  bore  us  constantly  and  earnestly 
 before  God,  are  gone  !  Nature  shudders,  as  she 
 casts  her  eye  forward,  and  thinks  of  this  long,  long, 
 long  separation  ! 
 
 But  why  have  I  suffered  myself  to  fall  into  this 
 sorrowful  strain  !  I  did  it  unintentionally,  uncon¬ 
 sciously.  Forgive  me.  I  have  pained  you,  and  I 
 have  pained  myself.  I  was  going  to  say,  we  must 
 find  our  happiness  in  a  different  way — in  girding  up 
 the  loins  of  our  mind  to  a  more  diligent  performance 
 of  duty;  in  putting  on,  as  good  soldiers  of  the  cross, 
 the  whole  armour  of  God ;  in  setting  our  faces  as  a 
 flint  against  every  thing  which  can  discourage,  inti¬ 
 midate,  or  wound  us ;  in  remembering  the  example 
 of  our  devoted,  our  suffering  Saviour ;  in  leaning  on 
 his  arm,  confiding  in  his  wisdom,  and  trusting  in  his 
 grace  and  strength;  and  in  sending  forward  our  hearts 
 to  that  happy,  happy  home,  which  we  hope  one  day 
 to  reach,  and  whither  our  beloved  friends  have  £one 
 before  us.  Let  our  expectations  of  earthly  rest  be 
 moderate,  except  of  that  sweet  rest  which  results  from 
 simple  trust  in  God. 
 
 I  have  written  thus  far,  and  have  not  yet  men¬ 
 tioned  what  I  had  most  in  view  when  I  besran.  I 
 think  we  may  derive  benefit  from  remembering  each 
 other’s  children  in  our  prayers.  Can  we  not  devote 
 ten  minutes  every  Saturday  evening,  at  nine  o’clock, 
 to  special  prayer  for  each  other,  that  we  may  have 
 grace,  wisdom,  courage,  and  patience  to  do  our  duty ; 
 and  for  our  children,  that  their  affections  may  be 
 
287 
 
 sanctified,  our  instructions  blessed,  they  brought  into 
 the  covenant  early,  &c.  ?  Will  you  write,  and  let 
 me  know  what  you  think  of  it  ?  My  little  boy  wakes, 
 and  I  must  bid  you  adieu. 
 
 TO  MRS.  H.  OF  NORTH  BRIDGEWATER. 
 
 Boston ,  February  12,  1820. 
 
 Very  dear  brother  and  sister.*  Remember  that 
 the  government  of  God  extends  to  the  minutest  con¬ 
 cerns  of  his  creatures.  Remember  that  he  loveth 
 his  children  so  well,  that  he  wills  every  thing  that  is 
 best  for  them,  and  that  he  possesses  infinite  power 
 to  execute  all  the  purposes  of  his  will.  What  then 
 is  the  result  ?  That  if  he  remove  your  children, 
 he  does  it  because  it  is  necessary  for  you,  because 
 his  glory  and  your  good  can  be  more  effectually  pro¬ 
 moted  by  such  a  dispensation  than  they  possibly  could 
 in  any  other  way.  Do  you  not  believe  it?  Verily, 
 if  you  cannot  see  it  now,  you  shall  see  it  hereafter. 
 “  Take,”  therefore,  my  brother  and  sister,  cc  the  pro¬ 
 phets,  who  have  spoken  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  for 
 an  example  of  suffering  affliction,  and  of  patience. 
 Behold,  we  count  them  happy  which  endure.  Ye 
 have  heard  of  the  patience  of  Job,  and  have  seen  the 
 end  of  the  Lord;  that  the  Lord  is  very  pitiful,  and 
 of  tender  mercy.”  Of  his  church  it  is  said,  e<  In 
 measure ,  when  it  shooteth  forth,  he  will  debate  with 
 it :  he  stayeth  the  rough  wind  in  the  day  of  his  east 
 wind.  By  this  therefore  shall  the  iniquity  of  Jacob 
 
 *  Two  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  H.’s  children  were,  at  this  time,  dan¬ 
 gerously  sick. 
 
288 
 
 be  purged;  and  this  is  all  the  fruit,  to  take  away  sin.” 
 If  you  are  rebuked,  it  is  in  the  measure  only  which 
 a  righteous  God  and  merciful  Father  sees  adequate 
 to  answer  the  end  which  he  proposes  in  thus  chastis¬ 
 ing  you,  namely,  to  take  away  sin.  Are  you  not 
 willing,  if  God  please,  to  be  made  like  your  Saviour  ? 
 Is  it  not  sufficient  for  the  disciple  to  be  as  his  Master  ? 
 Are  you  not  willing  to  fill  up  the  measure  of  his 
 sufferings?  Look  to  the  C£  Man  of  sorrows.”  De¬ 
 rive  from  his  example  patience  under  your  lighter 
 trials,  and  from  his  experience  of  human  calamity  in 
 his  own  person,  a  firm  belief,  that  in  all  your  afflic¬ 
 tions  he  is  afflicted,  and  will  extend  to  you  the  sup¬ 
 port  which  he  sees  you  need.  Carry  all  your  burdens 
 to  him.  Wait  upon  him  continually;  and  though 
 weeping  may  endure  for  a  night,  joy  shall  come  in 
 the  morning. 
 
 For  myself,  I  do  not  feel  as  if  God  intends  re¬ 
 moving  both  of  these  children.  I  have  constantly 
 believed  that  one  of  them  at  least  will  be  spared. 
 I  feel  much  for  you.  If  I  had  not  been  almost  sick, 
 I  should  have  gone  out  with  Mr.  P.  Since  he  was 
 here  I  have  scarcely  left  the  room.  I  have  been 
 afflicted  with  a  violent  cold.  If  the  children  continue 
 sick,  and  I  can  be  of  any  use,  you  may  depend  on 
 my  coming,  extraordinaries  excepted.  May  God  be 
 with,  and  bless,  and  sustain  you. 
 
 TO  THE  SAME. 
 
 Boston,  February  15,  1820. 
 
 Dear  M.  why  is  the  hand  of  the  Lord  thus  upon 
 you  ?  Why  are  you  and  dear  brother  called  to  pass 
 
289 
 
 thus  under  the  rod  of  the  Almighty?  I  trust  nei¬ 
 ther  of  you  is  impatient  under  a  chastisement  admi¬ 
 nistered  by  One,  whose  wisdom  and  whose  goodness 
 you  cannot  call  in  question.  Though  the  stripes  of 
 the  great  Father  of  the  whole  family  of  believers  are 
 often  laid  most  frequently  and  most  heavily  on  those 
 who,  we  should  think,  need  them  least,  yet  we  do 
 not  know  what  important  purposes  are  to  be  effected 
 by  such  a  course  of  divine  proceeding.  Let  us  look 
 about  us.  Do  we  not  find  that  those  Christians,  who 
 appear  to  be  left  almost  to  themselves,  who  pass  along 
 the  path  of  life  with  few  changes  and  trials,  usually 
 make  but  small  advances  toward  a  state  of  spiritual 
 manhood?  And  if  our  blessed  God  sees  that  the  dis¬ 
 ciple,  like  his  Master,  must  be  made  perfect  through 
 sufferings,  ought  we  not  to  welcome  every  means  which 
 will  conduce  to  this  blessed  end  ?  Can  we  desire  to 
 be  babes  in  Christ  all  our  days  ?  If  it  is  a  proof  of 
 sonship  to  be  chastised,  may  it  not  prove  a  special 
 favour  to  be  greatly  chastised?  Putting  myself  en¬ 
 tirely  out  of  the  question,  (and  I  feel  that  I  ought 
 to  go  with  my  face  in  the  dust  all  the  days  of  my 
 life,  that  I  have  profited  no  more  by  my  trials,)  I  do 
 believe,  judging  from  the  observation  I  have  been 
 able  to  make,  that  those  persons  who  have  become 
 what  we  call  eminent  for  piety,  have  generally  been 
 made  so,  under  God,  by  sufferings.  This  seems 
 reasonable ;  for  how  will,  how  can,  depraved,  idola¬ 
 trous  human  nature,  ever  rise  heavenward,  when  it 
 can  be  satisfied  with  earthly  objects  ?  “  Every  branch 
 that  beareth  not  fruit  the  Father  taketh  away;  and 
 every  branch  that  beareth  fruit,  he  purgeth  it,  that 
 it  may  bring  forth  more  fruit.” 
 
 N 
 
 41 
 
290 
 
 If  we  were  asked,  What  is  the  greatest  good  ? 
 should  we  not  answer,  Conformity  to  God  ?  If  we 
 were  asked,  What  are  the  best  circumstances  for  the 
 Christian  to  be  placed  in?  should  we  not  answer, 
 Those  which  will,  most  constantly  and  most  effec¬ 
 tually,  promote  his  conformity  to  God? — Shall  we 
 then  pray  for  afflictions  ?  By  no  means.  We  are 
 weak,  and  are  crushed  before  the  moth.  We  should 
 not  pray  for  what  we  do  not  know  that  we  could  bear. 
 We  should  habitually  pray  for  conformity  to  God; 
 and  quietly  leave  it  with  him  to  determine  by  what 
 means  he  will  effect  this  blessed  end. 
 
 TO  THE  SAME. 
 
 Boston ,  February  19,  1820. 
 
 My  dear  sister,  I  am  truly  grieved  for  your  afflic¬ 
 tion.  How  little  did  I  think,  when,  with  an  aching 
 heart,  full  of  distressing  apprehensions,  alas  !  soon 
 and  certainly  realized,  I  left  Bridgewater  in  Septem¬ 
 ber,  that  I  had  taken  a  last  farewell  of  one  of  the 
 dear  little  ones  !  But  so  it  probably  was ;  and  so 
 little  we  know  of  what  a  righteous  God  is  preparing 
 for  us. 
 
 As  to  the  child,  I  trust  it  is  and  shall  be  well 
 with  her ;  that  she  will  be  safely  lodged  in  the  bo¬ 
 som  of  the  great  Shepherd,  who  loveth  the  sheep, 
 and  gave  his  life  a  ransom  for  them,  and  who  hath 
 said,  44  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me,  and 
 forbid  them  not;  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  hea¬ 
 ven.” 
 
 As  to  yourselves,  dear  brother  and  sister,  it  is  in 
 vain  to  talk  about  the  duty  and  reasonableness  of 
 
291 
 
 submission.  But  you  must  do  as  the  Psalmist  did 
 under  different  troubles :  you  must  give  yourselves 
 unto  prayer  :  “  Call  upon  me  in  the  day  of  trouble, 
 
 and  I  will  hear.”  This  is  a  land  of  deserts  and  pits, 
 of  temptations,  and  sins,  and  troubles.  If  God  see 
 fit  to  take  our  little  ones,  and  lay  them  up  in  hea¬ 
 ven  till  we  go  also,  shall  we  complain  of  him  ? 
 
 February  25.  I  went  to  Bridgewater  on  the  22d. 
 Brother  D.  has  lost  his  oldest  child.*  It  was  a 
 melancholy  visit.  The  first  day  all  the  fountains  of 
 my  grief  seemed  broken  up,  so  that  I  was  ready  to 
 be  overwhelmed.  O  how  I  watched,  five  months 
 before,  at  that  window  !  And  how  often  since  has 
 the  recollection  of  that  hill,  down  which  I  was  never, 
 never  more  to  behold  my  husband  coming  to  meet 
 her  whom  he  loved,  almost  made  me  spring  distracted 
 from  my  pillow  !  But  my  soul  grew  calm,  and  I 
 could  say,  4C  Am  I  not  safe  beneath  thy  shade  ?” 
 Heaven  is  filling  fast.  The  prospect  of  an  admis¬ 
 sion  there  is  ineffably  glorious. 
 
 March  6.  Six  months  have  now  elapsed  since  my 
 affliction  ;  and  it  is  as  fresh  as  it  was  at  first.  Will 
 it  always  be  so?  The  very  thought  of  remembering 
 him  less,  seems  like  unfaithfulness  to  one  whom  I 
 had  the  best  reasons  for  loving.  God  has  been  in- 
 
 *  She  died  on  the  21st,  aged  six  years  and  eight  months;  leav¬ 
 ing  to  her  afflicted  parents  a  satisfactory  hope  of  her  piety,  and 
 having  furnished  striking  evidence  of  the  ability  of  very  young 
 children  to  understand  the  most  important  evangelical  truths, 
 when  properly  presented  to  their  minds,  and  a  most  pleasing  en¬ 
 couragement  to  parental  fidelity  in  the  religious  instruction  of 
 children _ See  Memoir  of  Mary  Hallam  Huntington. 
 
 N  2 
 
29  °2 
 
 expressibly  good  to  me.  In  his  mercy  he  has  given 
 me  a  son,  the  very  image  of  his  father,  to  bear  his 
 name,  and,  in  some  measure,  fill  up  the  awful  chasm, 
 which  the  removal  of  that  best  of  fathers  and  hus¬ 
 bands  has  made  in  my  family  and  in  my  heart.  I  be¬ 
 lieve  I  am  looking  heavenward.  I  desire  that  this 
 stroke  may  ever  drive  me  to  God  as  my  husband  and 
 my  portion.  The  past  looks  like  a  dream.  On 
 God’s  part  all  has  been  faithfulness,  and  mercy,  and 
 love ;  on  mine  how  much  unfaithfulness,  and  treach¬ 
 ery,  and  sin  !  Oh,  why  do  I  find  it  so  hard  to  keep 
 near  the  Fountain  of  blessedness,  the  Spring  of  all 
 my  comforts  ?  Shall  these  wanderings  one  day 
 cease  ?  Shall  I  ever,  O  my  God,  be  made  perfect 
 in  thy  likeness  ?  It  seems  too  much  for  me  to  hope 
 for.  And  yet  I  must  not,  cannot  be  satisfied  short 
 of  it.  Then,  my  soul,  watch  and  pray,  labour  and 
 faint  not  !  If  thou  patiently  follow  those  who  are 
 now  inheriting  the  promises,  thou  shalt  also  in  due 
 time  enter  into  the  same  everlasting  rest. 
 
 TO  MRS.  L.  OF  N.  H. 
 
 Boston ,  March  15,  1820. 
 
 My  dear  aunt.  The  expressions  of  affection  and 
 interest  from  those  who  are  kindred  according  to  the 
 flesh,  are  very  welcome  to  a  being  who,  like  myself, 
 has,  at  twenty-nine,  almost  outlived  all  she  once 
 claimed  as  near  relatives  in  this  land  of  the  shadow 
 of  death.  When  I  look  abroad  into  the  world,  how 
 many  places  are  vacated  which  were  once  occupied 
 by  those  I  loved  !  But  I  am  not  alone.  A  merci- 
 
°29S 
 
 ful  God  has  left  me  many  friends,  perhaps  as  many 
 as  I  need.  And  what  is  more  than  all,  I  trust, 
 through  grace,  that  He  has  given  me  himself.  There 
 are  moments,  however,  moments  of  incommunicable 
 sorrow,  when  a  heart,  smitten  as  mine  has  been,  feels 
 that  all  beneath  the  sun  is  66  darkened  down  to  na¬ 
 ked  waste when,  to  look  back,  overwhelms  it  with 
 recollections  too  interesting  to  be  resisted,  too  ago¬ 
 nizing  to  be  endured  ;  and  to  look  forward — alas  ! 
 may  you  never  behold  the  chasm  I  have  trembled  to 
 look  into  ! 
 
 But  why  do  I  speak  thus  ?  God  knows  best. 
 And  the  soul  satisfied  with  the  wisdom  and  rectitude 
 of  his  government  may  endure  even  this,  and  sing 
 of  victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Dear 
 Mrs.  L.  the  gospel  is  true  ;  we  shall  be  saved  if 
 we  live  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God.  Our  only 
 danger  lies  in  forsaking  the  Rock  of  our  salvation. 
 All  the  storms  of  this  troubled  sea  can  do  us  no  harm, 
 if  we  cast  the  anchor  of  our  hope,  firm  and  strong, 
 into  the  Rock  of  ages. 
 
 Oh  for  a  strong,  a  lasting  faith  ! 
 
 It  would  transform  this  dreary  desert  into  a  region 
 of  light  and  joy. 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  March  17,  1820. 
 
 My  health  has  generally  been  very  good  of  late, 
 though  the  weight  of  my  cares  sometimes  lies  heavily 
 upon  me.  I  should  have  thought  once,  I  could  not 
 
294 
 
 have  sustained  all  the  care  I  have  in  one  way  and 
 another,  without  sinking.  But,  through  the  great 
 goodness  of  God,  my  mind  is  usually  kept  tranquil; 
 and  I  feel  as  if  I  could  thank  him  for  all  that  is  past, 
 and  trust  him  for  all  that  is  to  come.  My  dear  little 
 boy  grows  charmingly.  He  is  a  lovely  child ;  and  I 
 find  his  smiles  and  interesting  actions  often  sooth  a 
 sorrow  which  must  ever  be  deep.  When  I  go  down 
 into  the  parlour,  and  see  nothing  but  the  likeness* — 
 when  I  think  of  the  future,  the  husband  who  will 
 never  return — when  the  chilling  recollection  of  this 
 long,  this  bitter  separation,  pours  all  the  agony  of 
 hopeless  sorrow  over  my  soul, —  I  return ;  there  is 
 another  Joshua,  whom  I  press  to  my  aching  heart, 
 and  I  thank  God,  my  heavenly  Father,  that  he  gave 
 him.  These  are  bitter  hours,  when  nature  prevails. 
 But  it  is  not  always  so.  No,  my  sister,  if  it  were,  I 
 could  not  have  lived. 
 
 Mr.  Winchellf  is  gone.  He  followed  the  ee  dear 
 brother,”  of  whom  he  spoke  so  often  in  his  delirium, 
 about  a  fortnight  ago,  to  the  place  of  the  faithful 
 minister’s  glorious  and  eternal  reward.  Mrs.  Mason 
 also,  precious  saint !  is  gone.  She  now  understands 
 perfectly  the  44  need  be”  of  her  pastor’s  removal;  an 
 event  which  she  spoke  of  at  first  as  44  a  cloud  with¬ 
 out  one  ray  of  light ;”  an  event  which  she  felt  to  be 
 a  heavier  stroke  than  any  she  had  ever  before  expe¬ 
 rienced.  So  one  after  another  of  the  church  of  the 
 First-born,  whose  names  are  written  in  heaven,  are 
 
 *  A  portrait  of  Mr.  Huntington. 
 
 f  The  Rev.  James  M.  Winchell,  Pastor  of  the  First  Baptist 
 Church  in  Boston,  a  clergyman  of  excellent  character  and  great 
 promise,  about  the  age,  and  an  intimate  friend,  of  Mr.  Huntington. 
 
295 
 
 gathering  into  their  rest.  Happy,  happy  they  who 
 have  passed  safely  through  this  valley  of  tears,  en¬ 
 dured  the  hardships  of  the  way,  been  brought  off 
 conquerors  over  all,  and  received  the  recompense  of 
 reward  ! 
 
 March  21.  When  I  am  taking  those  walks,  now 
 solitary,  which  I  used  to  take  for  the  gratification  of 
 my  beloved  husband — walks  which  must  always  be 
 associated  with  his  image  and  his  love  on  my  mind, 
 and  which  I  now  take  from  a  sense  of  duty,  to  pre¬ 
 serve  a  life  which  is  important,  at  least  to  his  children 
 — and  cast  my  eyes  over  this  busy  metropolis,  this 
 beautiful  world, — I  feel  that  I  am  a  stranger.  What 
 a  change  has  the  removal  of  him  whose  memory  I 
 love  to  cherish,  occasioned  in  the  face  of  the  whole 
 world  !  But  are  not  all  strangers  ?  Oh  for  grace 
 to  feel  that  while  I  am  at  home  in  the  body,  I  am 
 absent  from  the  Lord ;  for  grace  to  shake  off*  these 
 chilling,  withering,  useless  regrets !  Oh  Thou  whom 
 my  soul  longeth  to  love  with  all  my-  strength,  have 
 pity  upon  me  !  I  do  not  murmur.  I  would  kiss 
 the  hand  that  smites,  though  the  rod  is  felt  to  my 
 inmost  soul.  Pity,  and  love,  and  sanctify  me  !  and 
 all  is  well. 
 
 April  13.  Were  I  to  sit  down  and  brood  over 
 the  various  circumstances  of  my  late  sorrowful  be¬ 
 reavement,  it  would  unfit  me  for  every  active  duty. 
 My  mind  would  dwell  upon  its  own  personal  calami¬ 
 ties,  till  my  health  would  be  undermined,  and  all  the 
 faculties  I  possess  prostrated.  When  my  thoughts 
 do  fasten  on  that  point — his  sick-bed — it  produces 
 emotions  so  powerful,  as  almost  to  overwhelm  me. 
 
296 
 
 I  love  him  better  than  ever.  The  reflection  that  he 
 never  will  return — O  how  bitter  !  But,  my  blessed 
 Saviour,  shall  I  sit  down  in  despair  ?  If  I  have  but 
 little  left  to  enjoy,  is  there  nothing  left  me  to  do  ? 
 And  may  I  not  be  happy  in  doing  thy  will?  Is  not 
 that  the  best  happiness  ?  Oh  my  best,  my  unchang¬ 
 ing  Friend  !  lessen  this  attachment  to  the  husband 
 of  my  affection,  so  far  as  it  interferes  with  my  love 
 to  thee. 
 
 21.1  have  heard  that  Mrs.  Winchell*  is  deranged. 
 I  felt,  when  I  prayed  for  her,  as  if  she  would  be  sup¬ 
 ported.  When  I  realize  by  what  a  slender  hold  I 
 retain  that  reason  which  can  alone  make  me  useful, 
 that  reason  of  which,  if  of  any  thing,  I  have  been 
 proud,  it  humbles  me  in  the  dust.  It  is  of  God’s 
 infinite  mercy  that  my  late  afflictions  have  not  made 
 a  wreck  of  my  mind.  I  have  deserved  it.  But  will 
 not  He  who  has  helped,  continue  to  help  me  ?  He 
 who  has  carried  me  through  the  greater,  will  he  not 
 carry  me  through  the  less  ?  Shall  I  distrust  him 
 now  ?  Shall  I  not  commit  the  whole  disposal  of 
 myself  to  him?  This  I  know — if  I  am  sustained, 
 it  will  not  be  by  dint  of  my  own  natural  resolution  or 
 fortitude.  No,  no.  To  God  will  be  all  the  praise. 
 
 23.  There  was  a  very  sudden  death,  by  typhus 
 fever,  last  week — a  young  man,  one  of  our  church, 
 a  member  of  Cambridge  College,  and  a  frequent 
 visitor  here.  What  a  world  is  this  !  When  this 
 youth  came  to  condole  with  me,  after  the  departure 
 of  his  minister,  how  little  I  thought  he  would  follow 
 
 *  The  widow  of  the  clergyman  whose  decease  is  mentioned  in 
 page  294. 
 
297 
 
 him  so  soon!  Yet  man,  with  an  obstinacy  which 
 in  any  other  case  would  be  deemed  absolute  insanity, 
 continues  to  fasten  his  affections  and  his  hopes  on 
 this  changeful  world,  and  to  forget  that  its  next  re¬ 
 volution  may  whirl  him  into  that  state  of  existence 
 which  must  endure  for  ever,  a  state  irreversible  as 
 well  as  eternal !  Oh  for  the  soul-sustaining  con¬ 
 solations  of  past  days  !  I  am  a  sinner,  the  chief  of 
 sinners.  I  used  to  think  once  that  this  was  extra¬ 
 vagant  language  for  me  to  adopt;  now  I  feel  it  to 
 describe  the  common  estimate  which  I  make  of  my¬ 
 self.  Oh  for  sanctifying  grace !  that  when  the 
 summons  arrives  which  shall  remand  me  to  dust,  I 
 may  not  be  afraid  with  any  amazement,  feeling  that 
 66  for  me  to  live  is  Christ,  and  to  die  is  gain.” 
 
 28.  I  have  long  intended,  for  the  sake  of  my 
 children,  to  describe  some  of  the  exercises  of  my 
 mind  at  the  time  of  my  blessed  husband’s  sickness 
 and  death ;  but  have  not  before  felt  able  to  do  so. 
 
 The  last  part  of  my  stay  at  Bridgewater,  I  ex¬ 
 perienced  at  times  a  peculiar  flagging  of  my  animal 
 spirits,  and  a  sense  of  horror  which  can  never  be 
 described.  There  was  no  particular  cause  for  this 
 that  I  am  aware  of.  On  Saturday,  August  28,  1819, 
 I  heard  that  Mr.  Huntington  had  stopped  at  Groton, 
 fatigued ;  and  was  not  much  alarmed,  supposing  that 
 he  did  not  come  into  Boston  so  late  in  the  week,  to 
 avoid  the  labour  of  preaching  immediately  after  so 
 long  and  fatiguing  a  journey;  and,  overruled  by  the 
 solicitations  of  my  friends,  and  the  consideration 
 of  the  yellow  fever  being  in  Boston,  I  remained 
 at  Bridgewater  until  Wednesday.  On  Tuesday  I 
 sat  watching  at  my  window,  to  see  the  well-known 
 
 n  3 
 
298 
 
 chaise,  the  sound  of  which,  on  similar  occasions,  had 
 always  delighted  me.  Toward  evening  I  expected 
 the  stage,  and  possibly  my  husband  in  it.  The 
 stage  appeared.  Instead  of  my  husband,  the  driver 
 threw  me  out  a  letter.  It  stuck  a  pang  to  my 
 heart.  When  I  had  opened  it,  through  the  mis¬ 
 taken  kindness  of  my  friends,  I  was  still  informed 
 that  “  he  was  fatigued.”  Distracted  with  appre¬ 
 hension  and  suspense,  I  waited  for  morning ;  and  at 
 nine  o’clock  left  Bridgewater  in  the  stage,  with  a 
 heart  tortured  with  apprehensions,  alas  !  soon  and 
 certainly  realized.  During  my  ride  home  this  pas¬ 
 sage  of  Scripture  was  upon  my  mind,  and  comforted 
 me,  <£  All  things  work  together  for  good  to  them 
 that  love  God.”  I  was  feeble,  but  wished  to  go  to 
 
 Groton  that  night.  Mr. - assured  me,  however, 
 
 that  Mr.  Huntington  was  not  very  sick.  He  had 
 
 seen  him  on  Monday.  Miss - was  with  me. 
 
 Mr. - ’s  assurance  of  my  precious  husband 
 
 being  only  slightly  feverish,  had  in  a  great  measure 
 lulled  my  fears. 
 
 On  Thursday  morning  I  set  out,  in  a  chaise, 
 accompanied  by  a  friend,  for  Groton.  During  the 
 ride  the  first  answer  of  the  Assembly’s  Catechism 
 was  strongly  impressed  upon  my  mind,  66  Alan’s 
 chief  end  is  to  glorify  God  and  enjoy  him  for  ever.” 
 I  felt  that,  for  the  last  twelve  years,  I  had  in  a  great 
 degree  misunderstood  the  great  object  for  which  I 
 was  made;  that,  if  not  my  chief,  a  very  high  end 
 with  me  had  been,  to  be  happy  in  my  husband,  and 
 make  him  happy  in  me.  I  felt  that  the  highest 
 happiness  of  a  rational  mind  ought  to  arise  from 
 answering  the  purpose  for  which  God  made  it;  and 
 
299 
 
 therefore,  that  I  ought  to  be  happy  in  glorifying  God, 
 not  in  enjoying  myself. 
 
 We  reached  the  public-house  in  Groton.  I 
 inquired  if  they  knew  how  Mr.  Huntington  of  Bos¬ 
 ton  was.  The  answer  was,  66  Very  sick  indeed ;  the 
 doctor  has  been  there  all  day ;  he  is  a  very  sick  man.” 
 My  limbs  would  scarcely  support  me  to  the  house. 
 Upon  our  arrival  there,  we  went  into  the  parlour 
 alone.  The  first  object  that  met  my  eye  was  the 
 hat  of  the  blessed  sufferer  above  stairs.  It  struck 
 me  with  fearfulness  and  trembling,  as  the  herald  of 
 death.  I  asked  for  the  physician ;  and  in  reply  to 
 my  agonized  interrogation,  66  Is  there  no  hope?”  he 
 said,  “  Mr.  Huntington  is  very  sick.  I  should  have 
 some  hope,  were  it  not  that  all  fevers  this  summer 
 have  been  unusually  fatal.”  The  overwhelming 
 agonies  of  that  moment  can  never  be  described.  The 
 language  of  my  heart  was,  6  Oh  that  God  would 
 redeem  his  life  with  mine  !’  The  doctor  told  me  I 
 must  compose  myself,  as  to  see  me  agitated  might 
 destroy  the  object  of  my  solicitude. 
 
 Mr.  Huntington  was  apprized,  by  the  physician, 
 of  my  arrival.  There  was  an  increase  of  ten  to  the 
 number  of  his  pulse  upon  this  intelligence.  When 
 I  entered  the  room  in  which  he  lay,  he  was  gasping 
 for  breath ;  but  his  countenance  glowed  with  an 
 expression  of  tenderness  I  shall  never  forget,  as  he 
 threw  open  his  arms,  exclaiming,  66  My  dear  wife  !” 
 and  clasped  me,  for  some  moments,  to  his  bosom.  I 
 said,  with  perfect  composure,  <£  My  blessed  husband, 
 I  have  come  at  last.”  He  replied,  6i  Yes;  and  it  is 
 infinite  mercy  to  me.”  I  told  him,  all  I  regretted 
 was  that  I  could  not  get  to  him  sooner.  He  said, 
 
300 
 
 with  a  tender  consideration  for  my  health,  which  he 
 always  valued  more  than  his  own,  66  I  am  glad  you 
 could  not;  in  your  present  circumstances  it  might 
 have  been  too  much  for  me.” 
 
 From  that  time,  owing  to  the  insidious  nature  of 
 his  disease,  I  had  considerable  hope.  I  had  seen 
 him.  I  was  with  him.  He  was  as  sensible  of  my 
 love  and  of  my  attentions  as  ever;  and  I  could  not 
 realize  the  stroke  that  was  impending.  Never  shall 
 I  remember  without  gratitude  the  goodness  of  God 
 in  giving  me  that  last  week  of  sweet,  though  sorrow¬ 
 ful,  intercourse  with  my  beloved  husband. 
 
 The  days  and  nights  of  solicitude  drew  near  a 
 fatal  close.  I  could  not  think  of  his  death.  At 
 that  prospect  nature  revolted.  I  felt  as  if  it  would 
 be  comparatively  easy  to  die  for  him.  But  the  day 
 before  his  death,  when  all  spoke  encouragement,  I 
 felt  that  we  must  part.  In  the  bitterness  of  my 
 soul  I  went  into  the  garret.  It  was  the  only  place 
 I  could  have  without  interruption.  Never  shall  I 
 forget  that  hour.  Whether  in  the  body  or  out  I 
 could  scarcely  tell.  I  drew  near  to  God.  Such 
 a  view  of  the  reality  and  nearness  of  eternal  things 
 I  had  never  had.  It  seemed  as  if  I  was  somewhere 
 with  God.  I  cast  my  eye  back  on  this  life,  it 
 seemed  a  speck.  I  felt  that  God  was  my  God,  and 
 my  husband’s  God;  that  this  was  enough;  that  it 
 was  a  mere  point  of  difference  whether  he  should 
 go  to  heaven  first  or  I,  seeing  we  should  both  go 
 so  soon.  My  mind  was  filled  with  satisfaction  with 
 the  government  of  God.  t£  Be  ye  followers  of  them 
 who,  through  faith  and  patience,  inherit  the  pro¬ 
 mises,”  seemed  to  be  the  exhortation  given  me  upon 
 
301 
 
 coming  back  to  this  world.  I  do  not  mean  that 
 there  were  any  bodily  or  sensible  appearances.  But 
 I  seemed  carried  away  in  the  spirit.  I  pleaded  for 
 myself  and  children  travelling  through  this  distant 
 country.  It  seemed  as  if  I  gave  them,  myself,  and 
 husband  up  entirely;  and  it  was  made  sure  to  me 
 that  God  would  do  what  was  best  for  us. 
 
 From  that  time,  though  nature  would  have  her 
 struggles,  I  felt  that  God  had  an  infinite  right  to 
 do  what  he  pleased  with  his  own ;  that  he  loved  my 
 husband  better  than  I  did ;  that  if  he  saw  him  ripe 
 for  his  rest,  I  had  no  objections  to  make.  All  the 
 night  he  was  exercised  with  expiring  sufferings,  and 
 God  was  pouring  into  my  soul  one  truth  and  pro¬ 
 mise  of  the  gospel  after  another.  I  felt  it  sweet  for 
 him  to  govern.  There  was  a  solemn  tranquillity 
 filled  the  chamber  of  death.  It  was  an  hour  of 
 extremity  to  one  whom  Jesus  loved.  I  felt  that  He 
 was  there,  that  angels  were  there,  that  every  agony 
 was  sweetened  and  mitigated  by  One,  in  whose 
 sight  the  death  of  his  saints  is  precious.  I  felt  as 
 if  I  had  gone  with  the  departing  spirit  to  the  very 
 utmost  boundary  of  this  land  of  mortals,  and  as  if 
 it  would  be  easier  for  me  to  drop  the  body  which 
 confined  my  soul  in  its  approach  toward  heaven, 
 than  retrace  all  the  way  I  had  gone.  When  the 
 intelligence  was  brought  me  that  the  conflict  was 
 over,  it  was  good  news — I  kissed  the  clay,  as  plea- 
 sa  ntly  as  I  ever  did  when  it  was  animated  by  the 
 now  departed  spirit.  I  was  glad  he  had  got  safely 
 home,  and  that  all  the  steps  of  his  departure  were 
 so  gently  ordered. 
 
 It  would  be  in  vain  for  me  to  attempt  a  descrip- 
 
302 
 
 tion  of  my  feelings  the  next  morning.  I  had  never 
 seen  such  a  sun  rise  before.  It  beheld  me  alone. 
 Were  I  the  only  created  being  in  the  universe,  I 
 could  not,  perhaps,  have  felt  very  differently.  I 
 went  into  the  chamber  in  which  he  died.  There, 
 on  the  pillow,  was  the  print  of  his  head.  The  bed 
 of  death  was  just  as  when  it  resigned  for  ever  the 
 body  of  him  who  was  all  the  world  to  me.  His 
 portmanteau,  comb,  brush,  &c.  lay  in  sight.  God 
 wonderfully  supported  me. 
 
 But  why  do  I  dwell  on  a  description  which  even 
 now  is  almost  too  much  for  me  ?  How  did  God 
 sustain  a  creature  who  was  weakness  itself!  How 
 mercifully  he  has  carried  me  through  all  my  succes¬ 
 sive  trials  !  Truly  it  was  the  Lord’s  doing;  and  it 
 is  marvellous  in  my  eyes. 
 
 And  now,  oh  how  is  it  now?  Not  so  much 
 comfort ;  labouring  with  sin ;  afraid  almost  to  live 
 in  this  wicked  world ;  dreading  a  thousand  evils  in 
 my  present  lonely  state.  But  all  this  is  wrong. 
 God  hath  said,  “  Who  shall  harm  you,  if  ye  be 
 followers  of  that  which  is  good  ?”  How  kindly  my 
 beloved  husband  used  to  remind  me  of  this  text ! 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  A. 
 
 Boston ,  May  1,  1820. 
 
 I  thank  you  for  wishing  one  like  me  to  come 
 among  you.  I  feel  that  there  are  many  dear  friends 
 in  A.  But  I  have  concluded  to  remain  in  Boston 
 this  summer.  66  Unless  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to 
 fix  upon  A.  as  a  permanent  place  of  residence,  it 
 
303 
 
 would  not  be  worth  while  for  me  to  remove  there 
 this  spring,  as  I  might  thereby  subject  myself  to  the 
 inconveniences  and  expense  of  two  removals.  With 
 my  large  family,  I  should  not  like  to  board.  My 
 friends  here  advise  me  to  purchase  a  small  house,  at 
 an  expense  of  2,000,  or  2,500  dollars;  and  settle 
 down  in  Boston.  Dear  Dr.  Worcester*  thought  I 
 should  be  more  eligibly  situated  here,  both  for  com¬ 
 fort  and  usefulness,  than  any  where  else,  and  could, 
 on  the  whole,  live  at  as  cheap  a  rate.  I  hope  and 
 trust  the  Lord  will  direct  me.  I  desire  to  submit 
 myself  entirely  to  his  guidance. 
 
 May  6.  Great,  great  is  my  charge.  My  children, 
 thus  far,  are  a  comfort  to  me.  But  we  live  in  a 
 wicked  world.  I  must  unite  tenderness  with  resolu¬ 
 tion,  patience  with  authority,  meekness  with  decision. 
 I  must  be  obeyed;  and  I  must  be  loved.  How  ear¬ 
 nestly  ought  I  to  pray  that  my  children  may  never 
 have  occasion  to  “  despise  my  youth,”  or  my  sex  ! 
 Oh  that  I  may  be  strong  in  the  grace  that  is  in  Christ 
 Jesus  ! 
 
 11.  I  have  sweet  peace  of  mind.  I  feel  that,  in 
 Christ  the  living  Head,  all  the  redeemed  of  the 
 Lord  meet  as  in  one  common  body,  both  the  saints 
 on  earth  and  the  saints  in  heaven.  One  family  ! 
 Blessed  Saviour,  is  it  indeed  so?  And  am  I  one 
 of  thine,  and,  as  such,  one  of  that  happy  number 
 who  are  redeemed  by  thy  blood,  and  made  kings  and 
 priests  unto  God?  Wonderful  grace!  Gird  up 
 
 *  The  Rev.  Samuel  Worcester,  D.  D.  late  corresponding 
 Secretary  of  the  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign 
 Missions. 
 
304 
 
 thyself,  oh  my  soul !  Labour  now  to  do  something 
 for  Him  who  hath  loved  thee  unto  death. 
 
 12.  God  is  in  all  respects  better  to  me  than  my 
 fears.  I  expected  the  return  of  spring  would  fill  me 
 with  sorrow.  Instead,  however,  of  its  being  accom¬ 
 panied  with  gloomy  associations,  the  appearance  of 
 nature  putting  on  her  new  array,  sweetly  reminds  me 
 of  that  better  resurrection  which  all  the  redeemed  of 
 the  Lord  shall  one  day  experience.  It  speaks  of  the 
 better  life  into  which  the  Christian  shall  be  ushered 
 when  he  quits  the  prison  of  his  clay.  It  brings 
 heaven  to  my  mind.  If  I  were  to  speak  of  the  dif¬ 
 ference  between  my  feelings  now  and  formerly,  I 
 should  say,  that  the  view  I  take  of  divine  things  now 
 gives  them  more  certainty ;  there  is  more  of  a  prac¬ 
 tical  efficacy  in  it;  a  something  real  and  tangible, 
 which  I  did  not  use  to  feel  as  distinctly  as  I  do  now. 
 
 15.  44  He  that  endureth  unto  the  end  shall  be 
 saved.”  We  are  in  an  enemy’s  country.  It  will 
 not  do  to  yield  or  to  cease  fighting.  44  Behold,”  said 
 Christ  to  his  disciples,  44  I  send  you  forth  as  sheep 
 among  wolves.”  This  is  true,  not  only  of  ministers, 
 but  also  of  private  Christians.  But  my  greatest  foes 
 are  within  myself.  There  traitors  give  the  enemy 
 an  advantage.  But  oh,  to  say  in  faith, 
 
 No  fearing  or  doubting, 
 
 With  Christ  on  my  side  ; 
 
 1  hope  to  die  shouting, 
 
 “  The  Lord  will  provide  !” 
 
305 
 
 TO  MRS.  H.*  OF  N.  B. 
 
 Boston ,  May  25,  1820. 
 
 My  dear  madam.  May  one,  who  can  have  no 
 particular  claim  upon  your  notice,  and  who  can  offer 
 no  excuse  for  thus  intruding  upon  you,  except  the 
 deep  interest  which  she  feels  in  your  present  afflic¬ 
 tion,  address  you  thus  familiarly?  Since  the  first 
 moment  that  I  saw,  in  a  public  print,  the  announce¬ 
 ment  of  that  sorrowful  event,  which  I,  alas  !  well 
 know  has  made  your  heart  bleed,  I  have  desired  to 
 write  to  you ;  have  desired,  and  hesitated,  not  know¬ 
 ing  whether  it  were  best  or  not  to  do  so. 
 
 There  are, moments  when  we  feel  the  impotence 
 of  our  sympathy,  and  yet  are  not  able  to  withhold 
 the  expression  of  it.  It  is  a  relief  to  ourselves,  if  it 
 bring  little  or  no  consolation  to  the  object  upon  which 
 it  is  exercised.  Shall  I  tell  you  then,  my  afflicted 
 sister,  that  my  heart  aches  with  you  and  for  you  ? 
 Shall  I  say,  that  I  well  understand  all  the  agonies 
 which  you  suffer  ?  Yes ;  for  there  is,  I  know  by  ex¬ 
 perience  there  is,  a  spot  in  the  human  heart  which, 
 under  its  heaviest  calamities,  is  conscious  of  experi¬ 
 encing  some  mitigation  of  its  sorrow,  from  the  cer¬ 
 tainty  that  it  does  not  mourn  alone.  And  you  do 
 not  mourn  alone.  Many  have  felt  the  stroke  which, 
 in  its  heaviest  effects,  fell  on  you.  And  many  who 
 
 *  The  widow  of  a  clergyman,  who,  immediately  after  return¬ 
 ing  home  from  a  journey,  in  which  he  had  visited  Boston,  and 
 seen  Mrs.  Huntington,  was,  in  the  prime  of  life  and  of  usefulness, 
 arrested  by  death,  leaving  two  small  children.  With  his  widow 
 Mrs.  Huntington  had  no  personal  acquaintance. 
 
306 
 
 do  not  weep  for  you  are  lamenting  a  similar  trial  in¬ 
 flicted  on  themselves.  God  seems  to  have  come  out 
 of  his  place,  and  to  have  numbered  many  of  the  wives 
 and  children  of  his  prophets,  widows  and  fatherless. 
 Help,  Lord  ;  for  the  godly  man  ceaseth,  for  the  faith¬ 
 ful  fail  from  among  the  children  of  men  ! 
 
 And  now,  under  the  first  overwhelming  pressure 
 of  your  present  sorrows,  I  feel  a  strong  desire  to 
 comfort  you  by  the  comfort  wherewith  I  myself  have 
 been  comforted  of  God.  I  want  to  tell  you  that  the 
 precious  promise,  44  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee,” 
 is  sure  and  steadfast.  With  respect  to  the  removal 
 of  our  dear  husbands,  there  is  one  consideration 
 which  lies  at  the  foundation  of  all  our  other  motives 
 for  resignation,  namely,  The  lord  hath  done  it. 
 44  Precious  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the  death  of 
 
 O 
 
 his  saints.”  He  will  not  call  one  of  them  home  till 
 his  work  below  is  finished.  So  long  as  the  blessed 
 God  is  possessed  of  infinite  wisdom  to  understand 
 perfectly  what  is  best  for  his  children,  of  infinite 
 mercy  to  will  all  that  he  sees  to  be  best  for  them, 
 and  of  infinite  power  to  execute  all  the  purposes  of 
 his  will,  shall  we  not  choose  to  have  him  do  what  he 
 pleases  ?  If  we  were  unwilling  that  he  should  take 
 our  beloved  friends  when  he  thinks  proper,  the  ques¬ 
 tion  at  issue  would  he — Which  shall  govern,  the 
 all-perfect  Jehovah  or  ourselves?  In  this  view  of 
 the  subject,  (and  it  is  unquestionably  a  correct  view 
 of  it,)  who  would  not  say,  44  Let  the  will  of  the  Lord 
 be  done  ?”  Oh,  we  may  be  assured,  that  the  reasons 
 which  have  led  him  to  afflict  us  so  deeply  are  satis¬ 
 factory  to  himself,  and  will  be  so  to  us,  if  we  are  so 
 happy  as  to  reach  heaven  at  last !  And  can  we  dare 
 
307 
 
 to  wish  to  change  what  God  sees  to  be  necessary  for 
 us  ?  Can  we  dare  to  wish  our  beloved  husbands  to 
 stay  here,  when,  like  their  Master,  they  have  finished 
 their  work  on  earth,  and  God  has  immediate  employ¬ 
 ment  for  them  in  heaven  ? 
 
 And,  my  friend,  what  consolation  does  the  gospel 
 hold  out  to  us  respecting  those  whose  removal  we 
 lament,  that  we  may  not  sorrow  as  those  who  have 
 no  hope  !  Where  is  our  love  for  them,  if  we  would 
 wish  to  retain  them  in  this  dark,  and  distant,  and 
 sinful  world,  when  God  sees  them  ripe  for  their  rest ! 
 We  suffer,  indeed;  but  we  suffer  alone.  Those 
 whose  trials  we  used  to  feel  as  painfully  as  our  own, 
 are  far  beyond  the  influence  of  the  vicissitudes  of 
 this  troubled  state.  They  are  happy.  Let  us  re¬ 
 joice  for  them.  And  as  for  ourselves,  we  have  the 
 promise  of  an  unchangeable  God,  that  as  our  days 
 so  shall  our  strength  be;  that  (if  we  are  his  children, 
 I  mean)  all  things  shall,  or,  as  your  dear  husband  said 
 to  me  in  one  of  his  visits  of  condolence  when  in  Bos¬ 
 ton,  <c  all  things  do  work  together  for  our  good ;”  that 
 we  shall  be  brought  off  conquerors,  and  more  than 
 conquerors,  through  Him  that  loved  us ;  that  our  tri¬ 
 bulation  shall  work  patience,  and  our  patience  expe¬ 
 rience,  and  our  experience  hope ;  and  that,  in  due 
 time,  if  we  follow  those  who,  through  faith  and  pa¬ 
 tience,  are  now  inheriting  the  promises,  we  also  shall 
 be  made  partakers  of  their  blessedness. 
 
 We  must  labour,  my  dear  friend,  to  “  forget  those 
 things  which  are  behind,  and  reach  forth  unto  those 
 things  which  are  before.”  This  passage  has  been  a 
 great  support  to  me.  In  our  circumstances  we  are 
 
308 
 
 prone  to  enfeeble  our  capacities  for  present  exertion, 
 by  useless  regrets,  and  distressing  retrospections,  and 
 unbelieving  anticipations.  But  all  this  is  wrong. 
 To  us  it  belongs  to  suffer  patiently,  bear  cheerfully, 
 and  perform  faithfully,  the  will  of  God  now.  He 
 will  provide  for  to-morrow.  Let  us  also  look  to  our 
 Saviour,  and  learn  that  the  disciple  must  expect  to 
 be  as  his  Lord,  and  his  servant  as  his  Master. 
 
 Among  the  passages  of  Scripture  which  your  dear 
 departed  husband  mentioned  to  me  when  here,  two 
 have  comforted  me  much.  One  was,  C(  Be  thou 
 strong  in  the  grace  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus,’’  not  in 
 yourself.  The  other  was,  “  Ye  shall  not  afflict  any 
 widow,  or  fatherless  child.  If  thou  afflict  them  in 
 any  wise,  and  they  cry  at  all  unto  me,  I  will  surely 
 hear  their  cry.”  He  also  read  me  a  sermon  of  his, 
 (for  I  was  not  well  enough  when  he  was  here  to 
 attend  church,)  from  the  text,  <£  It  is  good  for  me 
 that  I  have  been  afflicted.”  It  will  be  a  comfort  to 
 you,  I  think.  Oh,  if  he  could  speak  to  you  now, 
 he  would  bid  you  rejoice  for  him,  and  be  afraid  of 
 nothing  but  sin  !  His  visits,  when  he  was  in  Boston, 
 were  very  pleasant  to  me.  He  felt  for  my  sorrows, 
 and  now  I  feel  for  yours.  But  if  God  love  us,  he 
 feels  more  for  us  than  any  human  friend.  And  if 
 he  smite  us,  it  is  because  he  sees  we  need  it. 
 
 I  cannot  ask  you  to  write,  and  tell  me  some  of 
 the  particulars  of  the  sorrowful  event,  because  I  do 
 not  know  that  you  will  be  able.  But  if  you  could, 
 without  too  great  an  effort,  it  would  be  a  great  satis¬ 
 faction  to  me.  I  think  we  widows  of  clergymen 
 should  form  a  community  by  ourselves ;  and  never 
 
309 
 
 bend  the  knee  without  remembering,  before  the 
 Father  of  mercies,  our  sorrowful  situation,  and  the 
 children  whom  God  hath  given  us.  We  need  each 
 other’s  prayers. 
 
 Adieu,  my  dear  afflicted  friend.  May  He  who 
 hath  broken,  bind  up ;  he  who  hath  wounded,  heal. 
 He  can.  I  trust  he  will.  To  him  I  commend  you. 
 
 TO  MRS.  T.  OF  D. 
 
 Boston ,  June  6,  1820. 
 
 Yes,  we  can  say,  <c  It  is  good  for  us  that  we  have 
 been  afflicted,”  while  we  look  not  at  the  things  which 
 are  seen,  but  at  the  things  which  are  not  seen ;  and 
 no  longer.  Viewed  merely  in  a  temporal  light,  our 
 sorrows  are  a  cloud  without  sunshine,  the  thickness 
 of  darkness.  Do  you  always  feel  as  if  you  could 
 say,  “  I  bless  him  for  all  that  is  past,  and  can  trust 
 him  for  all  that  is  to  come  ?”  Or  do  you  sometimes 
 feel  like  Peter  when  he  followed  his  Master  over  the 
 tumultuous  waters,  and  found  his  faith  failing  and 
 his  feet  sinking?  The  latter  describes  my  experi¬ 
 ence;  though  I  have  reason  to  thank  God  that  the 
 prevailing  frame  of  my  heart  has  been  cheerful  satis¬ 
 faction  with  the  divine  government. 
 
 If  there  is  any  lesson  which  I  have  been  learning 
 of  late  more  completely,  more  painfully,  I  should 
 say,  than  others,  it  is  my  own  sinfulness  and  weak¬ 
 ness.  I  have  felt  more  deeply  than  ever  before,  that 
 if  I  get  to  heaven,  it  will  be  grace  that  brought  me 
 there.  There  may  be  those  who  can  bear  constant 
 sunshine ;  but  it  is  not  so  with  me.  However,  my 
 dear  friend,  God  knows  what  we  both  need,  and 
 
310 
 
 what  we  can  bear.  Whether  we  walk  by  the  light 
 of  the  pillar  of  fire,  or  under  the  shadow  of  the  pillar 
 of  a  cloud,  still  we  are  guided  and  preserved  by  a 
 faithful  and  unchanging  God.  O  how  like  a  cordial 
 to  the  sin-sick  soul  is  the  reflection,  that  its  salvation 
 is  of  grace ;  not  obtained  by  its  own  imperfect,  sinful 
 services  ! 
 
 We  must  not  wonder,  my  dear  friend,  to  perceive 
 imperfections  and  follies  in  our  children  who  are  not 
 sanctified,  when  we  see  so  much  amiss  in  ourselves. 
 We  should  lay  hold,  with  steady,  practical,  and  per¬ 
 severing  resolution,  of  their  faults,  and  not  be  dis¬ 
 couraged  if  the  remains  of  evils,  which  we  had  sup¬ 
 posed  completely  subdued,  spring  up  again,  seemingly 
 as  powerful  as  ever.  He  that  laboureth  perseveringly 
 shall  come  again  with  rejoicing,  bringing  his  sheaves 
 with  him.  Pray,  when  you  pray,  for  me,  that  if  any 
 of  my  children  are  soon  to  be  removed  from  this 
 world,  both  they  and  I  may  be  prepared  for  such  an 
 event.  We  should  feel  such  a  stroke  now  deeply. 
 
 June  9.  I  spent  the  last  week  at  A.  I  was,  in 
 respect  to  spiritual  things,  very  dull  while  there,  and 
 several  days  after  my  return ;  but  am  now  in  a  better 
 frame.  I  had  serious  doubts,  while  at  A.  of  my 
 personal  religion.  But  my  mind  was  very  gloomy 
 about  every  thing.  Oh,  can  it  be  possible  that  1 
 know  nothing  of  communion  with  God?  The  occa¬ 
 sion  of  my  doubts  was  a  sense  of  my  great  sinful¬ 
 ness.  It  seemed  as  if  there  could  be  no  grace  in 
 such  a  heart.  But  I  think  I  do  determine  to  cleave 
 unto  the  Lord ;  to  choose  to  suffer  affliction,  if  need 
 be,  with  his  people,  rather  than  have  my  portion 
 
311 
 
 here.  And  when  I  feel  my  hope  of  acceptance  with 
 God  the  strongest,  I  feel  the  most  unquenchable 
 desires  to  serve  him  with  my  heart,  my  whole  heart. 
 When  my  hope  of  his  soul-comforting  favour  wavers, 
 
 I  droop.  If  his  love  is  lost,  all  is  lost ;  heaven  and 
 earth  are  whelmed  in  one  dark  and  chilling  cloud  of 
 hopeless  sorrow. 
 
 22.  I  have  been  looking  over  an  old  journal  kept 
 previously  to  my  marriage.  O  how  like  a  dream 
 my  past  life  looks  !  Where  are  the  days  that  have 
 gone  by  ?  Fled,  with  the  friends  of  my  childhood, 
 for  ever. 
 
 The  clouds  and  sun-beams  on  my  eye 
 That  then  their  shade  and  glory  threw. 
 
 Have  left,  on  yonder  silent  sky, 
 
 No  vestige  where  they  flew. 
 
 Surely  we  do  “pass  our  days  like  a  tale  that  is  told.’'' 
 
 But  in  every  thing  I  behold  my  husband,  my  dear 
 husband.  All  that  I  ever  loved  or  feared,  all  that 
 excited  pleasure,  or  produced  disgust,  speaks  of  the 
 friend  whose  image  is  associated  with  all.  Yes; 
 this  heart,  faithful  to  its  trust,  can  never,  never 
 cease  to  remember  thee,  friend  of  my  bosom ;  once 
 mine,  now  removed  from  her  who  loved  thee  much, 
 to  Him  who  loved  thee  better  !  A  chasm  is  left, 
 which  he  filled — a  chasm  not  to  be  described — a 
 chasm  I  have  trembled  to  look  at.  But  I  remember 
 that  others  suffer  also.  And  shall  this  selfish  heart 
 bleed  for  its  own  sorrows  alone  ?  No,  no.  When 
 I  am  pouring  forth  the  prayers  of  my  soul  for  others, 
 when  I  strive  to  lessen  the  anguish  which  rends 
 the  bosom  of  others  in  affliction,  my  own  sorrow  is 
 lessened  also.  I  feel  that  I  am  but  one  member  of 
 
3 12 
 
 the  general  body ;  that  by  diffusing  my  sympathies 
 and  my  sorrows  to  all  the  members,  their  intense¬ 
 ness  is  softened,  their  effects  chastised  and  elevated, 
 and  that  what,  felt  for  myself  alone,  would  have  led 
 me  to  an  absolute  resignation  of  my  soul  to  the  in¬ 
 fluence  of  despair,  when  diffused,  diverts  my  mind 
 from  itself,  and  drives  me  to  a  throne  of  grace  in 
 behalf  of  others,  more  constantly  and  earnestly  than 
 before. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  N.  H. 
 
 June  28,  1820. 
 
 I  have  just  been  thinking,  my  dear  E.  what  in¬ 
 consistent  creatures  we  are.  When  Mrs.  T.  was 
 here  I  could  not  write  to  you,  because  I  was  not  in 
 good  spirits.  To-day  I  am  not  in  good  spirits,  and 
 take  up  my  pen  to  endeavour  by  writing  to  divert 
 and  divide  my  thoughts.  Sometimes  I  find,  when 
 I  strive  to  rouse  my  mind,  rendered  inert  by  an  ex¬ 
 clusive  contemplation  of  its  own  calamities,  to  some 
 degree  of  interest  in  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  others, 
 I  am  richly  repaid  for  the  effort  by  a  partial  elevation 
 or  suspension  of  personal  suffering.  And  who,  my 
 dear  friend,  does  not  suffer  ?  I  chide  my  selfish  heart 
 for  brooding,  with  withering  anguish,  over  its  own 
 afflictions,  as  if  there  were  no  ofher  being  in  the  uni¬ 
 verse  to  pity. 
 
 Have  you  ever  read  Flavel’s  Token  for  Mourners  ? 
 I  hope,  however,  this  letter  will  find  you  in  less 
 need  of  such  helpers  than  you  have  been.  I  do  not 
 mean  that  the  work  is  not  good.  It  is  a  favourite 
 book  of  mine.  But  I  hope  you  are  now  able  to 
 
313 
 
 rejoice  that  the  will  of  the  Lord  is  done.  I  think 
 you  and  I,  dear  E.  are  both,  from  our  constitutional 
 intenseness  of  feeling,  in  danger  of  yielding  ourselves 
 up  to  the  dominion  of  sorrow.  My  beloved  friend, 
 is  it  well  for  us  to  “  cast  a  longing,  lingering  look 
 behind  ”  very  often,  when  we  are  conscious,  that  every 
 such  look  tears  open  afresh  a  wound  which  may  bleed 
 to  the  last  hour  of  life  ?  I  acknowledge  that  I  dare 
 not  trust  myself  with  a  frequent  view  of  the  past. 
 The  poor,  frail  spirit,  cramped  and  clogged,  and  en¬ 
 feebled  by  the  tenement  of  clay  it  inhabits,  faints  at 
 the  retrospect  of  friendships  sundered,  never  to  be 
 renewed  on  earth,  of  enjoyments  which  I  shall  expe¬ 
 rience  no  more  for  ever.  As  long  as  we  live  in  this 
 world,  we  have  something  to  do  in  it.  Our  great 
 wisdom  and  our  happiness  lie  in  endeavouring  to  be 
 pleased  with  all  that  God  does  for  us,  and  in  striving 
 on  our  part  to  do  something  for  him.  It  is  a  hard 
 lesson  to  learn ;  but  let  us  remember  that,  if  we  labour 
 under  such  a  state  of  mind,  God  hath  promised  that 
 he  will  one  day  bruise  sin  and  Satan  under  our  feet. 
 
 July  2.  I  think  I  did  desire  to  say  something  pro¬ 
 fitable  to  my  children  to-day,  and  to  have  some  token 
 that  it  was  so.  I  scarcely  ever  had  more  freedom 
 in  prayer  for  them,  and  with  them,  that  God  would 
 be  pleased  to  speak  by  me  to  their  hearts.  And  they 
 appeared  solemn  and  affected.  Oh  that  the  word  may 
 he  like  good  seed  lodged  in  good  ground ;  though 
 buried,  preparing  to  produce  a  rich  harvest !  I  find 
 it  a  great  assistance  to  me  in  prayer  for  my  children, 
 to  remember  that  God  has  been  our  God  for  many 
 generations  back. 
 
 o 
 
 41 
 
314 
 
 4.  A  day  on  which  the  world  are  rejoicing.  And 
 a  day  on  which  I  rejoice  too ;  but  for  a  different 
 reason.  So  far  as  these  violent  and  turbulent  ex¬ 
 pressions  of  gladness  affect  me,  it  is  with  sadness. 
 But  I  am  rejoicing  in  that  freedom  with  which  Christ 
 makes  his  people  free.  I  rejoice  that  all  the  re¬ 
 deemed  of  the  Lord  are  fast  gathering  into  the  king¬ 
 dom  of  their  Saviour.  I  rejoice  that  my  husband  is 
 there.  I  rejoice  in  the  hope  of  this  blessedness  for 
 myself.  I  rejoice  in  the  manifestations  of  my  Sa¬ 
 viour’s  love,  while  travelling  through  this  valley  of 
 tears.  I  envy  not  the  worldling  his  joys.  My  heart 
 longs  that  such  may  be  made  the  subjects  of  the  re¬ 
 deeming  grace  of  God  for  ever. 
 
 12.  How  great  a  benefactor  should  I  esteem  that 
 man  who  could  tell  me  how  to  resist  sin  effectually 
 in  its  first  operations  !  When  the  specious  temp¬ 
 tation  is  first  held  out  to  the  soul,  then  is  the  time 
 to  say,  66  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan.”  But  oh  ! 
 shame  and  confusion  belong  unto  me  !  Why  do  I 
 harbour  these  traitors,  these  enemies,  within  me  ? 
 Dear  Saviour,  thou  hast  told  me  what  to  do.  Thou 
 hast  promised  me  strength.  Why  then  am  I  so 
 often  betrayed  into  the  snare  which  a  subtle  foe  lays 
 for  my  feet  ?  Why  is  my  resistance  to  sin  so  feeble  ? 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  A. 
 
 Boston ,  July  13,  1820. 
 
 We  ought  to  cultivate  a  cheerful  view  of  all  the 
 providences  of  God,  both  as  they  respect  ourselves 
 and  others.  There  is  always,  in  this  world,  a  bright 
 
315 
 
 side  to  every  thing  but  sin.  There  are  always  alle¬ 
 viating  circumstances  attending  the  most  afflictive 
 dispensations.  It  is  a  great  attainment  in  Christian 
 wisdom,  to  be  able  to  discover  these  lucid  spots  in 
 the  cloudy  atmosphere  which  envelopes  us  in  the 
 present  state ;  to  give  God  the  praise  for  them,  and 
 take  to  ourselves,  and  impart  to  others,  the  comfort 
 of  them.  Our  dear  departed  friend,  Mrs.  Mason, 
 was,  I  think,  a  remarkable  example  of  cheerful  piety. 
 I  scarcely  ever  heard  her  speak  of  any  dispensation 
 of  providence  in  which  she  could  not  discover  much 
 of  mercy.  And  if  we  all  possessed  more  of  her  faith, 
 the  ills  of  this  life  would  be  light  afflictions,  and 
 work  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight 
 of  glory. 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  July  20,  1820. 
 
 The  winter  passed  comfortably.  I  can  complain 
 of  nothing  but  myself.  All  the  paths  of  the  Lord 
 have  been  mercy  and  faithfulness  unto  me.  And 
 now,  my  dear  sister,  I  might  tell  you,  that  my  un¬ 
 faithfulness  to  the  best  of  fathers,  the  kindest  of 
 friends,  have  been  equalled  only  by  his  mercy,  and 
 patience,  and  loving-kindness.  But  to  tell  you  of 
 these  things  would  do  no  good.  I  will  say,  how¬ 
 ever,  that  the  longer  I  live,  the  more  deeply  I  am 
 made  to  feel,  by  hitter  experience,  that  sin  will 
 cleave  to  me  till  I  die ;  that  every  moment  which 
 bears  me  fresh  mercies  from  God,  swells  proportion- 
 ably  the  mighty  number  of  my  sins,  because  it  adds 
 to  the  number  and  weight  of  those  obligations  which 
 
 o  2 
 
316 
 
 are  upon  me  of  entire  devotedness  to  my  God,  not 
 one  of  which  can  ever  be  cancelled.  Yet  I  feel  that 
 it  will  be  sweet  to  be  eternally  indebted  to  Jehovah  ; 
 that  it  will  be  sweet  to  sing  the  praises  of  that  grace, 
 whose  height,  and  depth,  and  length,  and  breadth, 
 we  shall  never  be  able  to  measure. 
 
 July  24.  I  have  been  thinking  how  unwise  it  is 
 to  suffer  our  happiness  to  be  the  sport  of  every  self¬ 
 ish,  or  capricious,  or  unfeeling  mind.  And  this  is 
 always  the  case  when  we  attach  undue  weight  to 
 human  opinions.  The  heart  that  is  rendered  miser¬ 
 able  because  an  acquaintance  does  not  to-day  meet 
 it  with  all  the  cordiality  of  yesterday,  is  to  be  pitied. 
 For  in  this  world,  where  selfishness  and  whim  govern 
 the  many,  and  where  ill  health,  anxiety,  affliction,  and 
 other  causes,  are  so  apt  to  affect  the  external  appear¬ 
 ance  of  the  few,  such  occasions  of  disquietude  must 
 frequently  occur.  It  is  wise,  then,  to  feel,  as  far 
 as  possible,  that  our  dependence  for  happiness  is 
 supremely  on  God,  who  changeth  not;  to  seek  his 
 approbation  as  our  first  object;  to  be  thankful  for 
 earthly  friends;  to  strive  to  deserve  them;  and  to 
 labour  after  that  equable  frame  of  affection  towards 
 all  men  which  shall  not  be  entirely  governed  by  self- 
 love,  or  the  degree  of  affection  with  which  ours  is 
 reciprocated.  This  is  the  love  of  a  noble  mind,  the 
 love  of  a  Christian. 
 
 29.  We  are  apt  to  become  selfish  under  the  en¬ 
 durance  of  affliction,  and  to  act  as  if  we  supposed 
 every  one  must  feel  the  same  interest  in  our  trials 
 that  we  do  ourselves.  But  the  disinterestedness 
 which  is  able  to  consign  the  memory  of  a  beloved 
 
317 
 
 friend  to  oblivion,  by  the  voluntary  confinement  of 
 recollections  connected  with  that  friend  to  one’s  own 
 bosom,  is  of  a  high  order.  There  are  moments, 
 when  a  generous  mind  cannot  hut  feel  the  insignifi¬ 
 cance  of  human  praise  or  blame.  It  is  for  a  few 
 months  or  years,  and  where  is  it  ?  Blessed  is  the 
 man  whose  “  record  is  on  high ;”  whose  name  is  re¬ 
 corded,  not  merely  in  the  changeful  remembrances  of 
 contemporaries,  but  in  the  Lamb’s  book  of  life ;  who 
 can  receive  this  testimony,  that  he  pleases  God. 
 
 August  1.  I  do  not  feel  quite  well;  and  when  my 
 health  is  feeble,  my  animal  spirits  always  decline.  I 
 feel  weak,  and  exposed  to  every  assault,  from  within 
 and  from  without.  The  guide  of  my  youth  is  gone. 
 My  earthly  prop  is  broken.  He  who  was  ever  at 
 my  side  to  counsel  me  with  all  the  meekness  of  wis¬ 
 dom,  who,  in  my  seasons  of  spiritual  darkness,  was 
 ever  near,  and  ready  to  lend  me  the  unobtrusive,  but 
 steady  and  unwavering  light  of  his  own  faith,  and 
 his  own  lovely  example,  will  smile  upon  me  no  more. 
 That  light  is  removed.  Oh,  why  did  I  improve  it 
 so  little  while  it  continued  to  shine  upon  me  ?  And 
 yet  I  do  find  comfort  in  committing  the  keeping  of 
 my  soul  unto  God,  as  unto  a  faithful  Creator  and 
 most  righteous  Judge.  Though  I  am  naturally  of  a 
 fearful  heart,  he  has  helped  me  wonderfully.  And 
 will  he  forsake  me  now  ? 
 
 22.  “  Where  is  Mrs.  Huntington  ?”  Often  do 
 I  hear  this  interrogation;  but  not  in  the  pleasant 
 tones  of  a  faithful,  tender,  and  confiding  husband,  as 
 I  used  to  do.  It  is  sometimes  the  careless  question 
 of  indifference,  sometimes  the  peevish  question  of 
 perplexity  or  ill  humour ;  but  never,  no  never  now, 
 
318 
 
 the  soothing  inquiry  of  the  friend,  the  sound  of 
 whose  footstep  was  always  so  sweet  to  my  ear,  the 
 friend  whose  every  interest,  every  pursuit,  every 
 affection,  were  so  intimately  connected  with  mine,  as 
 to  make  us  always  rejoice  to  meet  each  other,  even 
 after  an  absence  of  only  a  few  hours.  If  there  ever 
 was  a  year  when  we  were,  in  a  sense,  more  entirely 
 devoted  to  each  other — when  our  attachment  was 
 more  ardent,  our  happiness  in  each  other  greater, 
 than  at  any  other  period  since  our  marriage — it  was 
 the  last  year  of  our  connexion.  What  it  was  to 
 have  all  these  ties  sundered  at  one  stroke,  those  may 
 know  who  love  as  I  did. 
 
 30.  I  know  several,  whom  I  think  better  Chris¬ 
 tians  than  myself,  who  are  frequently  disturbed  with 
 doubts  of  their  good  estate.  Since  my  dear  hus¬ 
 band’s  death  I  have  had,  comparatively,  few  doubts. 
 Is  this  because  I  am  proud  and  self-righteous,  or 
 ignorant  of  myself?  I  do  trust  my  hope  is  grounded 
 on  the  fulness  of  Christ,  and  the  freeness  of  his 
 grace,  and  not  on  any  thing  else.  I  do  trust  I  have 
 something  of  a  filial  spirit  toward  my  blessed  God ; 
 something  of  a  voluntary  renunciation  of  my  own 
 will ;  some  sweet  satisfaction  with  the  divine  govern¬ 
 ment ;  some  complacency  in  Jehovah’s  character; 
 some  sincere  desires  to  do  his  will,  resist  the  sin  he 
 hates,  and  be  conformed  to  his  image.  I  think  I 
 have  fed  on  his  precious  word,  and  do  take  it  as  my 
 heritage  for  ever.  Oh,  if  I  know  nothing  of  all  this, 
 what  have  been  my  supports,  my  enjoyments,  my 
 hopes,  my  fears,  my  daily  consciousness,  all  the  year 
 past  ?  Ought  I,  oh  my  Saviour,  to  doubt  the  reality 
 of  what  thou  hast  done  for  me  ? 
 
819 
 
 September  4.  How  infinitely  good  is  God,  still  to 
 continue  his  consolations  to  one  who  forfeits  them 
 every  step  of  her  progress  ?  I  think  I  felt  last  night 
 some  brokenness  of  heart  in  view  of  the  sins  of  the 
 day,  and  that  I  longed  for  cleansing  as  well  as  for 
 forgiving  grace.  Salvation  would  be  no  salvation  to 
 me,  if  it  were  not  salvation  from  sin.  And  this  morn¬ 
 ing  I  have  sweet  peace  within.  Oh  the  riches  of 
 God’s  grace  !  And  shall  I  ever  go  on  in  this  way ; 
 making  such  returns  for  the  Saviour’s  goodness  ? 
 On  his  part,  mercy  upon  mercy ;  on  mine,  declension 
 upon  declension,  sin  upon  sin !  Every  day,  every 
 moment,  the  polluting  torrent  flowing;  debasing, 
 degrading  all  that  I  do,  and  say,  and  think  !  And 
 will  not  death  be  welcome,  if  it  give  me  the  victory  ? 
 I  thought  so  last  night. 
 
 9.  Last  night  was  a  sorrowful  one.  I  did  not 
 expect  to  sleep.  All  the  scenes  of  the  year  before, 
 like  distracting  visions,  were  before  me.  To-day  I 
 feel  extremely  feeble.  I  read  this  morning,  in  course, 
 the  first  chapter  of  the  Epistle  of  James.  It  seemed 
 exactly  adapted  to  my  case.  The  Bible  is  a  won¬ 
 derful  book.  I  think  I  can  say  with  the  Psalmist, 
 6i  Unless  thy  law  had  been  my  delights,  I  should 
 then  have  perished  in  mine  affliction.”  This  book 
 has  done  more  for  me  than  all  the  men  on  earth,  and 
 all  the  angels  in  heaven,  could  have  done.  Though 
 even  the  Bible  is  only  an  instrument.  It  is  to  us 
 just  what  God  makes  it.  To  him  be  the  praise. 
 
ago 
 
 TO  HER  ELDEST  DAUGHTER  :  GIVEN  HER  ON  HER 
 BIRTH-DAY.  SEPTEMBER  10,  1820. 
 
 My  dear  child, — You  know  that,  after  man’s  apos- 
 tacy  from  God,  it  pleased  the  merciful  Jehovah  to 
 declare  to  him  his  gracious  purpose  of  saving  some 
 of  our  race  from  merited  destruction,  through  the 
 atonement  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  You  also 
 know  that,  agreeably  to  this  gracious  declaration, 
 God  has  always  had  a  seed  to  serve  him ;  or,  in  other 
 words,  that,  since  the  world  was  made,  there  has  al¬ 
 ways  been  a  class  of  persons  called  the  church,  who 
 have  professed  themselves  to  be  the  people  of  God, 
 in  distinction  from  the  rest  of  the  world.  God  has 
 also  been  pleased  to  say,  that  he  will  not  only  be  the 
 God  of  believers,  but  of  their  seed  after  them.  It 
 has,  accordingly,  been  the  custom,  in  all  ages,  for  be¬ 
 lieving  parents  to  dedicate  their  infant  offspring  to 
 God,  before  the  advent  of  the  Saviour  by  circumci¬ 
 sion,  and  since  that  event  by  baptism.  It  has  been 
 your  privilege  to  be  born  of  parents  professedly  be¬ 
 longing  to  this  blessed  family  of  believers. 
 
 You  have  been  baptized.  I  will  endeavour  to  ex¬ 
 plain  to  you  the  nature  of  this  ordinance.  In  bap¬ 
 tism  you  were  given  to  God ,  to  be  his  child.  All 
 vour  powers  and  faculties  were  consecrated  to  his 
 service.  Your  parents,  by  that  act,  professed  their 
 determination  to  bring  you  up  as  a  Christian;  that 
 they  renounced  this  world  as  your  portion,  and  took 
 God  for  your  portion ;  that  they  desired  for  you  a 
 moral  nature,  that  would  love  the  service  of  your 
 God  here,  and  the  enjoyment  of  the  holy  happiness 
 
321 
 
 of  heaven  hereafter,  above  all  other  things ;  and  that 
 they  would  endeavour  to  keep  you  from  following 
 the  course  of  this  wicked  world,  which  is  in  a  state 
 of  rebellion  against  the  God  whom  they  wished  you 
 to  serve.  They  vowed  unto  the  Lord  that  they 
 would  bring  you  up  for  him,  and  would  strive  to 
 prevent  your  acquiring  any  habits,  conforming  to  any 
 fashion,  and  forming  any  friendships,  whose  probable 
 tendency  would  be  to  prevent  your  becoming  the  dis¬ 
 ciple  of  Jesus  Christ.  This  is  what  your  parents 
 have  done  for  you.  But,  in  order  to  your  being  in¬ 
 terested  in  God’s  precious  covenant,  you  must  cordi¬ 
 ally,  willingly,  and  joyfully,  make  all  this  your  own 
 act.  You  must  agree  to  what  your  parents  have 
 done.  You  must  choose  the  Lord  for  yourself. 
 Blessed  children,  who  make  such  a  choice !  Wretched 
 children,  who  trample  on  all  these  obligations,  and 
 make  their  way,  through  all  these  vows  and  engage¬ 
 ments,  to  the  gulf  of  despair  !  Oh,  my  dear  child, 
 will  you  not  go  with  your  parents  to  heaven  ? 
 
 I  have  written  for  you  a  short,  simple  covenant ; 
 which  you  may  sign,  if  you  are  determined  to  serve 
 God.  But  remember,  it  is  better  not  to  vow,  than 
 to  vow  and  not  perform. 
 
 COVENANT. 
 
 Oh  most  gracious  Jehovah  !  Thou  hast  com¬ 
 manded  us  to  love  and  serve  thee.  Thou  hast  pro¬ 
 vided  a  way  whereby  we  may  be  saved.  Jesus  Christ 
 has  died  for  sinners.  And  through  him,  thou  canst 
 infuse  into  our  carnal  hearts  a  principle  of  holy  love, 
 which  shall  constrain  us  to  serve  thee  with  a  willing 
 and  filial  spirit.  I  am  a  sinner;  by  nature  an  alien 
 
 o  3 
 
322 
 
 from  thee,  exposed  to  thy  wrath,  dead  in  trespasses 
 and  sins.  But  I  now  desire,  through  Jesus  Christ, 
 and  on  account  of  his  atonement,  whereby  even  sin¬ 
 ners  may  hope  for  mercy,  to  give  myself  wholly  to 
 thee.  I  give  myself  to  God  the  Father,  as  my 
 rightful  Sovereign,  my  merciful  Father,  and  my  con¬ 
 stant  Benefactor;  to  God  the  Son,  as  my  Prophet, 
 Priest,  and  King,  my  only  Saviour  and  Redeemer ; 
 and  to  God  the  Holy  Ghost,  as  my  Sanctifier,  Guide, 
 and  Comforter  :  humbly  praying  for  grace  to  devote 
 myself  entirely  and  eternally  to  thee;  that  I  may 
 esteem  it  my  highest  happiness  to  consecrate  to 
 thee  all  I  am  and  have,  my  health,  my  time,  my  in¬ 
 fluence,  my  possessions,  to  yield  my  will  to  thine, 
 and  rejoice  to  be  guided  and  governed  by  it  in  all 
 things.  I  take  thy  word  for  the  rule  of  my  life, 
 and  for  my  comfort  in  death.  I  renounce  this  world 
 as  my  best  good,  and  take  thee  as  my  portion  for 
 ever. 
 
 Oh  Lord,  let  this  covenant,  now  made  in  meek¬ 
 ness,  and  fearfulness,  and  trembling  on  earth,  be 
 ratified  in  heaven,  and  give  me  thy  grace  to  cleave 
 to  it  to  the  end  of  my  life,  for  the  Redeemer’s  sake. 
 Amen. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  N.  H. 
 
 Boston y  September  24,  1820. 
 My  dear  E. — I  was  glad  to  hear,  from  yourself, 
 ol  your  comfortable  health  and  pleasant  prospects. 
 rl  he  death  of  your  mother,  occurring  in  the  time 
 and  way  in  which  it  did  must  have  been  peculiarly 
 
343 
 
 trying.  But  it  must  be  a  great  relief  to  you  to  be¬ 
 lieve  that  she  is  now  safely  lodged  in  the  bosom  of 
 the  great  Shepherd,  admitted  to  the  rest  she  longed 
 for,  freed  eternally  from  that  cumbrous  prison,  the 
 body,  in  which  the  soul  has  been  struggling,  though 
 vainly,  to  glorify  a  Being  whom,  alienated  and  dis¬ 
 torted  as  it  was,  it  ardently  loved.*  Happy  spirit ! 
 I  give  thee  joy.  Surely  it  was  far  better  for  thee  to 
 be  absent  from  the  body,  that  thou  might est  be  pre¬ 
 sent  with  the  Lord.  This  event  is  attended  with 
 many  mitigating  circumstances,  and  I  trust  you  are 
 already  able  to  see  much  mercy  in  it. 
 
 I  rejoice  in  the  birth  of  your  dear  boy,  and  hope 
 he  will  be  a  great  blessing  to  you  and  to  the  world. 
 But  beware,  my  dear  friend,  of  making  him  your  idol. 
 Possibly  you  might  have  done  this  with  your  first 
 babe.  If  you  did,  and  God  loves  you,  as  I  trust  he 
 does,  you  can  easily  see  the  u  need  be”  there  was 
 for  its  removal.  Alas  !  that  so  many  stripes  should 
 be  necessary.  But  I  feel  it  to  be  so  with  me.  “  Afflic¬ 
 tions,”  says  good  Mr.  Baxter,  i6  are  like  a  hedge 
 of  thorns  on  each  side  of  the  strait  and  narrow  way.” 
 And  how  prone  are  we  to  get  out  at  every  gap  in 
 the  hedge  which  we  can  find  ?  I  have  thought  much 
 of  Moses’  choice,  i6  choosing  rather  to  suffer  afflic¬ 
 tion  with  the  people  of  God,  than  to  enjoy  the  plea¬ 
 sures  of  sin  for  a  season.”  And  after  a  deliberate 
 consideration  of  the  subject,  I  trust  this  is  my  settled 
 choice  too.  There  is  more  comfort  in  suffering  as 
 the  Christian  does,  when  God  is  with  him,  than 
 
 *  The  lady  referred  to  was  partially  deranged  several  of  the 
 last  years  of  her  life,  but  retained  her  interest  in  religion. 
 
324 
 
 can  be  found  by  the  most  prosperous  worldling  in 
 his  most  darling  and  successful  schemes  of  temporal 
 
 September  30. 
 
 Thought,  busy  thought,  too  busy  for  my  peace. 
 
 Through  the  dark  postern  of  time  long  elaps’d. 
 
 Led  softly  by  the  stillness  of  the  night, 
 
 Led  like  a  murderer,  (and  such  it  proves,) 
 
 Strays  (wretched  rover!)  o’er  the  pleasing  past; 
 
 In  quest  of  wretchedness  perversely  strays, 
 
 And  finds  all  desert  now. 
 
 It  is  sometimes  so  with  me.  Then  life  seems  a  bur¬ 
 den  ;  and  I  almost  long  to  have  the  cord  sundered 
 which  connects  me  with  a  world  which  has  lost  all 
 that  once  rendered  it  delightful.  These  are  not  my 
 best  moments.  When  I  feel  most  tired  of  this 
 world,  I  feel  least  fitted  for  heaven.  Any  place  is 
 happy  where  God’s  gracious  presence  is  enjoyed. 
 Any  soul  may  be  happy  which  is  resting  on  him,  do¬ 
 ing  his  will  and  tasting  the  blessedness  of  his  love. 
 It  is  the  sweetest  frame  of  mind  to  be  satisfied  with 
 all  that  God  does  now,  and  satisfied  to  have  him  do 
 what  he  pleases  hereafter.  Have  I  not  known  this 
 happiness  ?  And  was  it  not  a  foretaste  of  heaven  ? 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  B. 
 
 Boston ,  October  5,  1820. 
 
 I  too  feel,  as  Mrs.  Grant  says,  <fi  weary  worn 
 with  care.”  But  I  have  been  thinking  how  our 
 dear  Saviour  passed  through  this  world.  Little  of 
 quietude,  no  intermission  from  intense  exertion,  and 
 
325 
 
 none  from  that  kind  of  suffering  which  results  from 
 constantly  witnessing,  and  deeply  feeling,  the  sins 
 and  sorrows  of  others.  And  shall  we,  who  profess 
 to  be  followers  of  this  self-denying  Jesus,  expect  ab¬ 
 solute  exemption  from  the  trials  he  endured  so  con¬ 
 stantly  ?  Let  us  look  unto  Jesus,  and  learn  patience 
 under  our  little  crosses.  Oh  my  dear  friend,  is  the 
 time  coming  when  we  shall  exchange  this  stormy  sea 
 for  the  peaceful  haven ;  this  weary  wilderness  for  the 
 heavenly  Canaan  ?  If  so,  let  us  not  fear.  Though 
 we  pass  through  the  deep  waters,  God  will  be  with 
 us.  Though  our  hearts  are  ready  to  faint  at  the 
 roughness  of  the  way,  he  has  said,  “I  will  never  leave 
 thee,  nor  forsake  thee.”  Let  us  cling  to  our  Sa¬ 
 viour.  That 
 
 Anchor  hope  shall  firm  abide, 
 
 And  every  boisterous  storm  outride. 
 
 TO  MRS.  T.  OF  D. 
 
 Boston ,  October  10,  1820. 
 
 Yes,  my  dear  H.  I  know  all  the  weight  of  these 
 high  responsibilities.  Sometimes,  especially  when 
 my  health  is  poor,  I  feel  like  sinking.  The  chief 
 difficulty  is  in  myself.  I  so  often  find  myself  impa¬ 
 tient,  or  in  some  way  or  other  departing  from  the 
 practice  of  my  own  principles,  that  my  very  heart 
 fails  me.  And  then  I  am  apt  to  look  forward,  and 
 weigh  myself  down  with  burdens  which  do  not  be¬ 
 long  to  the  present,  but  which  are  created  by  an  ima¬ 
 gination  full  of  dreary  anticipations.  We  are  not 
 promised  grace  now  against  next  year.  44  Sufficient 
 
326 
 
 unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.”  It  is  good  for  us 
 to  live  one  day  at  a  time ;  to  bear  the  burdens,  en¬ 
 dure  the  trials,  and  enjoy  the  comforts  of  every  day, 
 not  as  if  they  were  to  last  for  ever,  but  as  the  daily 
 discipline  by  which  a  kind  and  faithful  God  is  carry¬ 
 ing  us  onward  through  this  valley  of  tears,  to  bring  us 
 at  last  to  our  home,  our  Father’s  house,  in  which  are 
 mansions  prepared  for  us  by  our  blessed  Saviour,  if 
 indeed  we  are  his. 
 
 The  longer  I  live,  the  more  I  am  made  to  feel 
 that  one  thing  only  is  necessary  to  make  me  happy, 
 even  here;  and  that  is,  a  heart  steadfast  in  God’s 
 covenant.  While  we  keep  close  to  our  Saviour,  all 
 is  well.  We  rejoice  that  it  is  his  air  we  breathe, 
 his  light  we  see,  his  love  that  blesses  us  with  all  that 
 we  enjoy,  and  his  wisdom  and  faithfulness  that  in¬ 
 flicts  all  that  we  suffer.  Every  little  perplexity  is 
 referred  to  his  will;  every  cross  is  borne  meekly, 
 because  it  is  his  allotment.  Gradually  we  depart 
 from  this  unfailing  friend.  Where  now  is  our 
 peace  ?  What  has  so  mightily  increased  the  weight 
 of  our  burdens,  and  crosses,  and  trials,  and  duties  ? 
 Why  do  our  spirits  tire,  and  our  feet  move  heavily  ? 
 Alas!  we  have  left  our  Helper.  We  have  been 
 proud,  and  thought  we  could  get  along  in  our  way 
 alone.  Or  we  have  been  earthly-minded,  and  have 
 treacherously  left  our  best  friend  for  some  worldly 
 object  of  complacency.  Or  we  have  been  slothful 
 and  negligent,  and  our  want  of  faithfulness  to  our 
 God  has  compelled  him  to  depart  from  us.  Oh 
 wretched,  oh  foolish  that  we  are,  to  depart  so  often 
 from  Him  whose  favour  is  life,  and  his  loving-kind¬ 
 ness  better  than  life ! 
 
3°2  7 
 
 But,  my  dear  friend,  is  it  not  a  delightful  thought 
 that  God  will  undertake  for  us  and  with  us  ?  Surely 
 none  but  a  God  of  infinite  patience  could  bear  so 
 long  with  such  rebellious  children.  Ought  we  not 
 to  be  glad  when  all  such  earthly  calculations  are 
 subverted,  such  earthly  hopes  blighted,  as  have  kept 
 us  satisfied  at  a  distance  from  him  ?  Only  let  us 
 have  a  heart  filled  with  love  to  God,  and  earth  will 
 be  heaven. 
 
 With  respect  to  our  children,  let  us  remember, 
 God  never  calls  his  people  to  any  duties  which  he 
 has  not  pledged  his  own  faithfulness  to  give  them 
 strength  to  perform,  if  they  look  to  him  for  it  in  the 
 way  of  his  appointment.  We  may  ask, 
 
 How  can  a  feeble,  helpless  worm 
 Fulfil  a  task  so  hard? 
 
 But  does  not  God  know  our  frame  ?  Does  he  lay 
 more  upon  us  than  we  are  able  to  bear  ?  Has  he 
 not  said,  44  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee?”  And 
 is  it  not  sufficient  ?  My  dear  H.  if  he  has  left  us  to 
 have  the  whole  management  and  care  of  our  little 
 ones,  he  had  good  reasons  for  so  doing.  And  now 
 he  knows  all  that  we  need.  He  sees  us  passing 
 through  the  wilderness.  We  are  a  feeble  company; 
 but  let  us  not  fear ;  that  is,  let  us  fear  nothing  but 
 ourselves.  O  how  glorious  is  the  grace  of  the 
 Gospel !  Once  or  twice,  lately,  I  have  felt  much 
 delight  in  reflecting,  that  in  Christ  is  treasured  up 
 every  needed  supply  for  every  exigency,  every  mo¬ 
 ment  of  our  lives.  It  is  unbelief,  that  heavy  weight, 
 that  we  must  lay  aside,  if  we  would  run  with  patience 
 the  race  set  before  us. 
 
328 
 
 Dear  friend,  another  is  added  to  our  sorrowful 
 sisterhood,  Mrs.  Larned,  recently  the  wife  of  the 
 young  clergyman  who,  you  recollect,  was  settled  not 
 long  since,  with  such  flattering  prospects  of  useful¬ 
 ness,  at  New  Orleans.  What  a  world  is  this  !  How 
 marvellous,  that  we  cling  to  it  still  so  closely  !  But 
 shall  not  the  day  come  to  us,  when  this  principle  of 
 indwelling  sin,  which  invests  the  world  with  all  its 
 charms,  shall  be  destroyed  for  ever  ?  Blessed  hope, 
 glorious  hour  ! 
 
 o 
 
 October  12.  There  is  a  candidate  here  preaching 
 to  our  congregation.  I  am  much  pleased  with  him ; 
 hut  notwithstanding  this,  my  mind  is  greatly  dis¬ 
 quieted.  It  is  not  that  I  do  not  wish  another 
 minister  settled  over  this  dear  people  as  soon  as  may 
 be,  or  that  they  should  not  love  him.  Oh  no !  What 
 can  be  the  meaning  of  these  distressing  emotions  ? 
 I  am  a  wonder  to  myself.  When  I  do  suffer,  I 
 suffer  intensely. 
 
 14.  This  has  been  a  week  of  severe  discipline. 
 At  such  seasons  I  am  made  to  see  by  what  a  slender 
 thread  I  hold  my  reason.  It  is  necessary  for  me. 
 All  these  lessons  ought  to  make  me  better,  especially 
 humbler.  And,  u  as  I  sink,  my  joys  shall  rise.” 
 But  when  I  am  laid  in  the  furnace,  I  fear  being  ut¬ 
 terly  consumed;  forgetting  the  great  Refiner  who  is 
 able  to  preserve  me,  so  that  nothing  shall  be  burnt 
 up  but  the  dross. 
 
 17.  My  mind  is  filled  with  peace.  I  desire  to 
 lose  myself  in  my  Saviour,  my  interests  in  his,  my 
 will  in  his.  I  long  for  the  prosperity  of  this  dear 
 precious  church,  which  has  contained,  which  does 
 
329 
 
 contain,  so  many  beloved  ones.  Oh  that,  if  this 
 young  minister  is  the  one  God  has  chosen  for  this 
 people,  he  may  be  anointed  with  the  Holy  Ghost, 
 and  specially  prepared  for  this  place  !  I  commend 
 him  to  the  Saviour,  who  is  able  to  make  him  just 
 what  he  ought  to  be. 
 
 TO  MRS.  H.  OF  N.  B. 
 
 Boston ,  October  20,  1820. 
 
 My  very  dear  friend, — It  is  some  time  since  I  re¬ 
 ceived  your  affectionate  letter,  and  it  is  not  because 
 you  have  been  forgotten  that  I  have  so  long  delayed 
 to  answer  it.  But  I  will  not  apologize.  You  know’ 
 the  claims  of  an  orphan  family,  a  bereaved  and  be¬ 
 loved  people,  and  numerous  correspondents,  too  well 
 for  me  to  consider  an  apology  to  you  necessary. 
 Though  I  have  not  written,  I  have  had  some  sweet 
 moments  in  commending  you  and  dear  Mrs.  T.  and 
 your  little  helpless  babes,  to  our  common  Saviour.  I 
 almost  always,  when  I  pray  for  our  three  sorrowful 
 but  comforted  families,  feel  as  if  I  were  bearing  our 
 common  cause  to  One  who  has  promised  to  be  our 
 guide  and  our  guard  <c  all  our  journey  through.” 
 We  are  three  feeble  bands  passing  through  the  wil¬ 
 derness.  Our  dear  earthly  counsellors  and  guides 
 are  taken  over  Jordan  before  us.  We  are  left  alone. 
 And  yet  we  are  not  alone.  Oh  no  !  Do  we  not 
 sometimes  lean  on  the  arm  of  our  present  Saviour? 
 Do  we  not  sometimes  hear  his  voice  whispering  to 
 us,  “  Fear  not,  I  am  with  thee  ?”  And  although  we 
 wander  from  him,  alas  !  too  often,  is  he  not  near  to 
 bring  us  back  to  the  pleasant  path  which  it  is  our  sin 
 
330 
 
 and  our  sorrow  to  leave  ?  Oh,  my  sister,  is  it  indeed 
 so  ?  Is  this  God  our  God  ?  And  will  he  be  our 
 guide  unto  death  ? 
 
 I  wish  to  know  particulars  respecting  your  situa¬ 
 tion.  I  think  you  have  two  children.  I  have  six. 
 One  of  them  is  a  little  helpless  invalid,  but,  I  trust, 
 one  of  Christ’s  lambs.  And  it  is  probable  she  will 
 be  gathered  into  the  fold,  where  her  blessed  father 
 is,  before  many  years.  Some  secret  malady  has  laid 
 its  hand  upon  the  feeble  frame,  which  imprisons  the 
 soul;  and,  by  deranging  all  the  organs  of  life,  has 
 compelled  the  weary  spirit  to  sojourn,  as  a  disordered 
 and  discomforted  stranger,  in  the  tabernacle  which 
 confines  it.  Two  of  my  children  are  sons;  one 
 nearly  nine  years,  the  other  ten  months  old.  The 
 others  are  girls. 
 
 Have  you  seen  “  Babington’s  Practical  View  of 
 Christian  Education  ?”  I  think  highly  of  the  work, 
 and  believe  its  circulation  will  be  attended  with  im¬ 
 portant  advantages  to  the  rising  generation.  Its 
 principles  are  so  truly  Christian,  and  its  precepts  so 
 practically  and  circumstantially  illustrated,  that  it  is, 
 in  my  estimation,  extremely  well  calculated  to  be 
 useful. 
 
 Let  us,  my  dear  sister,  in  all  our  discouragements, 
 and  under  all  our  trials,  imitate  the  example  of  holy 
 David  when  in  such  circumstances :  “  But  I,”  he 
 says,  “  give  myself  unto  prayer.”  Let  us  do  so, 
 and  we  shall  find  our  strength  increase,  our  prospects 
 brighten,  and  all  the  clouds  which  have  darkened 
 our  path  scatter,  and  make  way  for  the  shining  of 
 that  Sun  of  Righteousness  whose  beams  have  turned, 
 and  can  still  turn,  our  mourning  into  rejoicing. 
 
331 
 
 Adieu,  my  dear  friend.  Let  us  fear  nothing  but 
 forsaking  our  Saviour.  Let  us  pray  that  each  of 
 us  may  keep  close  to  Him  whose  loving-kindness  is 
 better  than  life,  to  the  end  of  our  journey.  May 
 we  meet  in  heaven  ! 
 
 TO  HER  ELDEST  DAUGHTER  AT  A. 
 
 Boston ,  October  29,  1820. 
 
 I  went  to-day  with  Mr.  W.  to  visit  a  sick  young 
 man.  He  could  only  whisper,  and  breathed  with 
 great  difficulty.  He  said  that  he  had  never  thought 
 of  God  as  he  ought  to  have  done  when  he  was  well, 
 and  that  he  had  made  no  preparation  for  death.  He 
 is  now  much  distressed,  lest  he  should  die  before  his 
 poor  soul  is  interested  in  the  love  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
 Christ.  He  now  wishes  he  had  loved  and  served 
 God  when  he  was  in  health.  My  dear  S.  will  you 
 not  pray  for  him,  that  he  may  have  the  Holy  Spirit 
 given  him,  that  he  may  repent  of  sin,  and  love  the 
 Saviour,  and  believe  in  him  before  he  goes  into 
 eternity?  And  oh,  my  dear  child,  pray  often,  pray 
 earnestly  for  yourself!  I  want  to  have  you  give 
 your  best  days,  6i  the  dew  of  your  youth,”  to  God. 
 I  want  to  have  you  love  and  serve  him  from  your 
 earliest  years.  Adieu,  my  very  dear  girl.  May  the 
 Lord  bless  and  keep  you,  conduct  you  safely  through 
 all  the  dangers  of  this  ensnaring  world,  and  bring 
 you  at  last  to  his  kingdom  ! 
 
 The  letter  next  to  be  inserted  seems  to  require  a 
 word  of  explanation.  The  person  mentioned  under 
 
332 
 
 date  of  October  12,  as  preaching  to  the  congregation 
 of  which  Mr.  Huntington  had  been  pastor,  had  re¬ 
 ceived  from  them  an  invitation  to  settle,  and  had  left 
 Boston  to  visit  and  consult  with  his  friends.  As  it 
 would  be  inconvenient  for  Mrs.  Huntington  to  change 
 her  residence  before  spring,  he  had  proposed  to  her, 
 if  he  should  return,  to  continue  in  the  parsonage- 
 house  until  May,  and  receive  him  and  his  wife  into 
 her  family  as  boarders.  To  this  arrangement  she 
 had  given  her  consent.  These  circumstances  led  her 
 to  write  as  follows: — 
 
 TO  MRS.  W.  AT  G. 
 
 Boston,  November  16,  1820. 
 
 My  dear  friend, — It  is  with  some  peculiar  emo¬ 
 tions  that  I  take  up  my  pen  to  address  you.  Yet, 
 though  the  circumstances  under  which  I  write  might 
 naturally  occasion  me  some  embarrassment,  I  do  not 
 feel  as  if  I  were  addressing  a  stranger.  I  have 
 thought  of  you  so  much  since  my  last  conversation 
 with  your  husband,  (whom  I  am  happy  now  to  con¬ 
 sider  as,  in  a  certain  sense,  my  minister,)  that  I  view 
 you  in  the  light  of  a  new  found  sister,  whom  I  have 
 not  seen  indeed,  but  for  whom  I  feel  that  tender  in¬ 
 terest  which  will  ripen  into  a  sincere  and  permanent 
 attachment  when  I  know  you  better.  Allow  me 
 then  to  dismiss  formalities  at  once,  and  hasten  to  the 
 particular  object  of  my  letter. 
 
 When  Mr.  W.  was  here,  he  proposed  to  me, 
 that,  if  he  returned,  himself  and  you  should  reside 
 in  my  family  this  winter,  instead  of  commencing 
 house-keeping  yourselves.  I  was  a  little  apprehen- 
 
333 
 
 sive  that  this  proposal  originated  chiefly  in  a  desire 
 to  accommodate  me.  Now  if  it  was  so — that  is,  if 
 it  will  be,  not  merely  no  disappointment,  but  simply 
 less  agreeable  to  you,  to  make  such  an  arrangement, 
 
 I  think  I  cannot  consent  to  it.  On  the  other  hand, 
 if,  from  a  consideration  of  the  season  of  the  year,  or 
 any  other  cause,  you  really  prefer  boarding  with  me 
 three  or  four  months,  it  will  be  a  great  gratification 
 to  me  to  receive  you,  as  well  as  an  important  con¬ 
 venience  and  benefit.  On  some  accounts  it  is  most 
 pleasant  to  keep  house.  But  if  you  conclude  not  to 
 do  so  till  spring,  it  will  be  my  endeavour  to  render 
 your  stay  with  me  as  agreeable  as  I  can.  I  feel  that 
 you  will  have  many  faults  to  overlook  in  me  and  mine. 
 But  as  our  friendships  in  this  world  do  not,  or  should 
 not,  depend  on  our  finding  the  objects  of  them  with¬ 
 out  faults,  I  shall  expect  that  even  my  faults  will  give 
 me  some  additional  claim  upon  your  sympathy  and 
 affection.  And  the  consciousness  that  much  must 
 be  forgiven,  will  lead  us  to  forgive  much  ;  will  it  not  ? 
 If  so,  how  tender  should  my  judgment  of  others  be  ? 
 
 If  being  called,  for  a  number  of  years,  to  expe¬ 
 rience  an  almost  constant  succession  of  outward  vicis¬ 
 situdes  and  trials,  and  if  being  exercised,  through  life, 
 with  extreme  mental  sufferings,  have  any  tendency 
 to  soften  the  character,  and  to  increase  in  the  soul 
 the  exercise  of  that  benevolence  which  leads  it  to 
 weep  with  them  that  weep,  and  enables  it  to  rejoice 
 in  every  accession  to  the  general  happiness  which  is 
 enjoyed  in  this  valley  of  tears — it  has  been  my  own 
 fault  if  I  have  derived  no  benefit  from  having  so 
 long  lived  under  the  influences  of  such  circumstances. 
 
334 
 
 And  if  a  constant  sense  of  dependence  on  God,  not 
 only  for  the  outward  blessings  we  need,  but  for  the 
 capacity  to  enjoy  and  improve  them — a  sense  of  de¬ 
 pendence  resulting  from  a  peculiar  conformation  of 
 mind,  which  renders  it  less  able  to  bear  or  to  do  any 
 thing  of  itself  than  is  common — has  a  tendency  to 
 produce  a  kind  and  charitable  habit  of  regarding  the 
 weaknesses  of  others — I  am  the  person,  of  all  per¬ 
 sons,  on  whose  heart  and  lips  should  be  written  the 
 law  of  kindness.  All  this  I  have  said,  not  from  the 
 pure  love  of  talking  about  self,  but  to  show  you  that 
 I  am  prepared  to  love  you ;  to  rejoice  in  your  hap¬ 
 piness;  to  appreciate  your  trials;  to  feel  for  your 
 sorrows ;  and  to  find  happiness  in  affording  you  any 
 advice  or  assistance,  which,  in  my  poor  measure,  I 
 am  able  to  afford.  Believe  that  I  have  already  be¬ 
 gun  to  anticipate  the  time  of  your  coming  with  many 
 pleasant  emotions,  as  the  period  which  shall  give  to 
 me  a  sister  and  a  friend ;  one  whose  situation  will 
 awaken  in  my  bosom  some  new  interests  and  sym¬ 
 pathies,  and  one  whose  establishment  here  will  add 
 another  to  the  many  reasons  already  existing  why  I 
 should  prefer  Boston,  as  my  residence,  to  any  other 
 part  of  this  66  dim  speck  which  men  call  earth.” 
 
 With  respect  to  our  future  intercourse,  my  sister, 
 allow  me  to  say,  it  depends  on  ourselves  whether  it 
 shall  be  a  blessing  to  us  or  not.  The  connexion  in 
 this  world  which  is  soon  to  be  formed  between  us, 
 and  which  will  be,  in  some  respects,  a  peculiar  one, 
 maybe  a  source  of  great  mutual  comfort  to  us.  It  may 
 also,  for  reasons  which  will  at  once  present  them¬ 
 selves  to  your  mind,  be  the  means  of  advancing  our 
 
335 
 
 characters  to  a  higher  elevation  of  moral  excellence 
 than  they  would  otherwise  have  ever  attained.  And 
 if  this  should  be  the  case,  (and  oh,  heaven  grant  that 
 it  may  !)  how  much  we  shall  love  each  other  on  earth, 
 how  much  we  shall  love  each  other  in  heaven  ! 
 
 My  dear  Mrs.  W.  may  I  be  permitted  to  say — 
 and  I  would  say  it  with  deep  humility,  as  one  anxious 
 to  make  the  application  to  myself — that  our  future 
 usefulness  and  happiness  depend  much  upon  our  adop¬ 
 tion,  and  practical  maintenance,  of  one  simple  Chris¬ 
 tian  principle,  namely,  a  supreme  desire  that,  in  all 
 we  do,  God  should  be  glorified.  Living  under  the 
 influence  of  this  principle,  we  shall  have  no  jealousies, 
 no  rivalships.  I  shall  rejoice  in  the  attention  you 
 receive,  in  the  influence  you  obtain,  in  the  good  you 
 accomplish ;  and  you  will  reciprocate  these  feelings. 
 This  blessed  principle  will  prevent  our  setting  up  any 
 personal  interests  in  opposition  to  those  of  our  Master. 
 We  shall  rejoice  that  God  is  glorified,  whether  he 
 be  pleased  to  make  use  of  our  feeble  services  or  not. 
 Just  in  proportion  as  we  place  our  happiness  here,  it 
 will  be  placed  beyond  the  reach  of  temporal  vicissi¬ 
 tudes,  and  the  disquieting  interferences  of  pride  and 
 selfishness. 
 
 And  now,  my  beloved  friends,  farewell.  I  com¬ 
 mend  you  to  the  grace  of  our  unchangeable  cove¬ 
 nant-keeping  God.  May  he  guide  and  bless  you. 
 May  his  loving-kindness  sweeten  and  sanctify  your 
 union,  and  make  it  a  blessing  to  you  both  for  many 
 years  on  earth,  if  such  be  his  righteous  purpose  con¬ 
 cerning  you.  And  may  we  be  mutual  helpers,  and 
 comforters,  and  quickeners  of  each  other  in  our  pil- 
 *  grimage  through  the  wilderness  of  this  world.  And 
 
336 
 
 may  our  affection  for  each  other  here  be  chastened 
 and  strengthened,  by  the  precious  hope  of  its  receiv¬ 
 ing  its  final  consummation  in  heaven. 
 
 November  22 .  To-morrow  will  be  Thanksgiving. 
 I  shall  have  to  keep  the  festival  “  with  bitter  herbs.” 
 But  I  have  been  thinking  to-day  of  the  terms  of 
 the  New  Covenant,  which  I  desire  to  lay  hold  of 
 for  myself  and  my  children.  Now  what  are  they  ? 
 Temporal  ease  and  prosperity?  “  I  will  bring  you 
 into  the  wilderness,  and  there  will  I  plead  with  you 
 face  to  face.”  “  I  will  cause  you  to  pass  under  the 
 rod,  and  I  will  bring  you  into  the  bond  of  the  cove¬ 
 nant.”  “  I  will  correct  thee  in  measure,  and  will 
 not  leave  thee  altogether  unpunished.”  “  If  his 
 children  forsake  my  law,  and  walk  not  in  my  judg¬ 
 ments,  if  they  break  my  statutes,  and  keep  not  my 
 commandments,  then  will  I  visit  their  transgression 
 with  the  rod,  and  their  iniquity  with  stripes.  Never¬ 
 theless,  my  loving-kindness  will  I  not  utterly  take 
 from  him,  nor  suffer  my  faithfulness  to  fail.  My 
 covenant  will  I  not  break,  nor  alter  the  thing  that 
 is  gone  out  of  my  lips.”  The  whole  history  of  the 
 Church  corroborates  this  testimony.  The  promise 
 is,  “  I  will  not  leave  thee  altogether  unpunished.” 
 Have  I  not  chosen  this  covenant  as  my  portion,  and 
 the  portion  of  my  children,  fully  understanding  that 
 these  were  its  terms  ?  And  do  I  repent  of  my 
 choice?  No.  I  heartily  renew  my  desire  to  suffer 
 affliction,  if  need  be,  with  the  people  of  God,  rather 
 than  be  left  to  take  up  with  the  pleasures  of  sin  as 
 my  portion.  Oh  to  be  brought  more  entirely  into 
 the  bond  of  the  covenant !  Oh  for  grace  to  lay 
 
33? 
 
 hold  on  this  covenant,  for  my  children,  as  all  my  sal¬ 
 vation  and  all  my  desire  in  their  behalf! 
 
 23.  This  has  not  been  a  dull  day.  The  work 
 of  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, 
 glorious  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  crea¬ 
 ture.  An  alteration  which  I  should  think  very  na¬ 
 tural,  namely,  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, 
 
 P  41 
 
338 
 
 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  ?  L  es,  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  recipro¬ 
 cated.  And  this  experience  is  not  observed  in  rela¬ 
 tion  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  in¬ 
 deed  we  have  been  born  of  the  Spirit — our  immense 
 obligations,  our  glorious  destination  !  If  we  realized 
 these  things  would  it  not  he  impossible  for  us  to  live 
 as  we  do  ?  Sinners  saved  by  grace,  through  the  ap¬ 
 plication  of  the  blood  of  the  everlasting  covenant ; 
 
339 
 
 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  ear¬ 
 nest  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  so  discomfited  by  its  perplexities  and  burdens ; 
 could  it  hold  out  to  us,  so  often  with  success,  its  al¬ 
 lurements,  to  tempt  us  from  our  Master  and  his  ser¬ 
 vice  ?  Oh  no,  no  ! 
 
 What  little  things  these  worlds  would  be, 
 
 How  despicable  in  our  eyes  ! 
 
 Well,  dear  E.  these  things  will  all  be  realized  by 
 us  soon.  Whether  prepared  for  it  or  not,  we  shall 
 soon  see,  not  through  a  glass  darkly,  but  with  the 
 clear  vision  of  immortality.  Oh,  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 
 
 p  2 
 
340 
 
 all  sin.  And  he  has  said,  “  Him  that  cometh  to 
 me  I  will  in  nowise  cast  out.”  Here  is  hope,  hope 
 for  sinners.  Here  let  us  cast  our  anchor-hope  for 
 eternity.  Oh  to  he  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. 
 
 I  hope  you  remember  Wednesday  evenings.  I 
 think  I  sometimes  have  much  satisfaction  m  praying 
 for  your  children.  I  do  feel  as  if  God  will  bless  to 
 them  your  instructions  and  prayers,  and  those  of 
 your  dear  husband.  I  do  believe  that  God  will  ac¬ 
 cept  this  free-wdll  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  lor  me, 
 this  is  my  covenant  with  them,  saith  the  Loid,  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 
 
341 
 
 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  faith¬ 
 ful,  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  en¬ 
 gaged  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  submit¬ 
 ting  with  magnanimity  to  an  inevitable  evil,  but  from 
 simple,  cheerful  love  to  thy  will,  and  confidence  in  thy 
 wisdom  !  Above  all  things,  O  dear  Redeemer, 
 clothe  me  with  humility.  Make  me  ashamed  to  de¬ 
 sire  a  great  share  of  human  approbation  and  admira¬ 
 tion,  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 
 on  the  situation  of  Mrs.  Huntington  at  this  period, 
 will  not  be  surprised  at  the  strain  of  remark  in  the 
 
342 
 
 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  wit¬ 
 ness  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  con¬ 
 fined  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  cheer¬ 
 fulness  was  never  observed  to  have  forsaken  her. 
 None  appeared  to  be  more  highly  gratified  than  she 
 did,  by  the  restoration  to  the  church  and  congrega¬ 
 tion  of  the  privileges  of  a  stated  and  settled  ministry. 
 And,  from  the  arrival  of  her  successor,  Mrs.  Hunting- 
 ton  manifested  for  her  the  warmest  friendship,  re¬ 
 posed  in  her  the  most  entire  and  affectionate  confi¬ 
 dence,  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  principles,  the 
 elevation  and  disinterestedness  of  her  piety. 
 
343 
 
 TO  MRS.  H.  OF  BRIDGEWATER. 
 
 Boston ,  November  27,  1820. 
 
 My  dear  sister, — I  am  reading  the  life  of  Henry 
 Martyn.  It  is  a  precious  work,  and  I  would  not  be 
 without  it.  You  ought  to  own  it,  and  so  should 
 every  minister’s  family,  if  it  be  but  to  show  us  what 
 a  Christian  can  be.  Common  believers  ought  to 
 blush  on  comparing  themselves  with  that  holy  man. 
 For  myself,  I  have  almost  been  tempted  to  question 
 whether  I  know  any  thing  of  that  disinterested,  and 
 noble,  and  efficient  principle,  which  was  able  to  carry 
 him  onward  to  an  eminence  of  practical  godliness  so 
 distinguished  and  so  wonderful.  To  see  a  man  pos¬ 
 sessed  of  all  the  tenderest  sensibilities  of  our  nature, 
 with  a  heart  alive  to  all  the  enjoyments  of  social  in¬ 
 tercourse  and  refined  life,  voluntarily  sacrificing  them 
 all — and  what,  if  possible,  is  more,  to  see  a  man  of 
 strong  and  powerful  talents,  abjuring  the  cultivation 
 of  his  mental  faculties,  excepting  so  far  as  such  a 
 cultivation  could  be  made  to  subserve  a  higher  end — 
 to  see  him  forsake  all  for  the  self-denying  life  of  a 
 missionary  and  a  martyr,  with  such  a  singleness  of 
 purpose,  and  such  a  constancy  and  intenseness  of 
 exertion, — is  a  noble  proof  of  the  efficacy  of  Christian 
 principles,  when  they  are  permitted  to  produce  their 
 legitimate  results.  And  why  are  there  no  more 
 Henry  Martyns  ?  Why  do  we  go  lean  from  day  to 
 day,  when  the  same  full  fountain  of  grace,  which 
 yielded  him  all  his  supplies,  is  open  to  us  also? 
 Taste,  and  live;  taste,  and  thrive.  Jesus  Christ, 
 
344 
 
 the  great  beginner,  and  carrier  on,  and  finisher  of  the 
 faith  of  the  meanest  disciple,  is  the  root  on  which 
 every  saint  must  grow.  It  is  our  own  fault  if  we 
 are  feeble  and  withered  branches. 
 
 I  think  I  have  never  seen  the  blessedness  and 
 the  safety  of  living  wholly  on  Christ  so  much  as  of 
 late,  nor  so  much  of  his  infinite  fulness,  which  is  open 
 to  all  his  people.  It  is  a  good  way  to  be  saved  by 
 his  grace.  We  do  not  pray  enough  for  the  greater 
 sanctification  of  Christians.  How  much  more  God 
 would  be  glorified,  if  Christians  were  holier,  and 
 more  like  their  Saviour ;  if  they  were  not  satisfied 
 with  just  grace  enough  to  give  them  the  hope  of  sal¬ 
 vation  !  Then  we  should  not  remain  always  babes, 
 but  be  advancing  to  the  measure  of  the  stature  of 
 the  fulness  of  Christ. 
 
 December •  7.  How  much  more  would  Christians 
 accomplish,  if  they  possessed  more  singleness  of 
 heart,  a  stronger  and  steadier  purpose  to  live  for 
 God’s  glory  !  The  Lord  saith,  <£  Them  that  honour 
 me  I  will  honour.”  To  labour  and  suffer  for 
 Christ,  with  a  simple  reference  to  his  glory,  would 
 secure  to  us  great  personal  comfort  and  peace  of 
 mind,  and  generally  extensive  usefulness.  In  heaven 
 there  is  no  selfishness.  It  would  be  sufficient  for 
 any  holy  being  to  occupy  any  corner  of  the  celestial 
 world  in  which  his  Lord  had  placed  him,  if  he  might 
 behold,  and  be  an  instrument  of,  the  manifestations 
 of  his  glory.  It  would  be  no  matter  to  him  where 
 he  was,  if  the  gracious  presence  ol  God  were  there. 
 Oh  my  Father,  do  I  not  feel  a  little,  little  spark  of 
 this  spirit  ? 
 
345 
 
 24.  I  had  some  sweet  moments  at  the  communion 
 to-day.  This  is  increasingly  a  precious  ordinance  to 
 me.  It  seems  to  be  a  blessed  thing  to  be  swallowed 
 up  in  God,  to  lose  ourselves  in  him.  These  tran¬ 
 sient  glimpses  of  heaven  are  unutterably  precious. 
 The  sermon  to-day  was  on  the  treachery  of  Judas. 
 I  feel  that  my  heart  is  by  nature  the  same  as  his 
 was — desperately  wicked;  and  that,  if  I  were  for 
 one  moment  abandoned  by  my  great  Keeper,  the 
 distance  between  my  present  moral  character  and 
 that  of  Judas  would  soon  be  lost.  Oh  that,  as  we 
 have  this  day  received  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord,  we 
 may  walk  in  him  !  This  is  my  petition  and  my  re¬ 
 quest,  in  behalf  of  myself  and  of  this  dear  church. 
 Amen. 
 
 27.  I  have  spent  some  happy  moments  to-day,  in 
 the  exercise  of  an  humble  hope  that  I  am  a  servant 
 of  God.  To  be  this,  seems  to  me  the  highest  hap¬ 
 piness  ;  a  happiness  of  which  earth  and  hell  cannot 
 deprive  us.  No  matter  where  we  are,  if  we  are  en¬ 
 gaged  in  doing  the  work  of  God.  What  is  earth, 
 what  is  time,  what  are  all  created  things,  when 
 God  and  eternity  are  placed  in  the  opposite  scale  ? 
 Oh  to  be  his  for  ever  in  the  sweet  valley  of  humi¬ 
 liation  ! 
 
 31.  I  am  brought,  through  grace,  to  the  close  of 
 another  year.  Have  I  made  any  progress  in  piety 
 the  past  year?  And  should  I  be  this  night  sum¬ 
 moned  66  to  meet  the  Bridegroom,”  what  reason  have 
 I  to  hope,  that  I  should  be  permitted  to  go  “in  with 
 him  to  the  marriage  ?” 
 
 In  the  first  place,  I  humbly  trust  I  feel  a  more 
 settled  and  habitual  purpose  of  soul  to  be  wholly  the 
 
 p  3 
 
346 
 
 Lord's.  It  seems  to  be  more  evident  to  my  own 
 consciousness  and  judgment,  that  it  is  my  deliberate 
 choice  to  take  God  for  my  portion,  leaving  all  other 
 matters  to  his  wise  disposal ;  that  although  many 
 scenes  of  worldly  interest  almost  daily  obtrude  them¬ 
 selves  upon  me,  and  engage  too  much  of  my  atten¬ 
 tion,  yet  the  favour  and  enjoyment  of  my  God  do,  in 
 my  practical  estimation,  infinitely  outweigh  them  all ; 
 that  I  can,  with  some  degree  of  propriety  and  truth, 
 say,  “  I  count  all  things  hut  loss  for  the  excellency 
 of  the  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ  my  Lord. 
 
 In  the  second  place,  I  humbly  believe,  that  I  do 
 more  habitually  rejoice  in  the  government  of  Jehovah, 
 as  holy,  just,  and  good,  and  see  a  beauty  in  every 
 intelligent  creature  finding  his  happiness  simply  in 
 being  the  servant  of  God,  to  do  his  will,  and  promote 
 his  glory,  than  I  used  to  do.  It  seems  to  me  an 
 excellent  and  glorious  thing,  for  a  creature  to  lose 
 his  own  interests  in  those  of  the  blessed  God ;  and, 
 if  J  know  my  own  heart,  I  do  pant  after  this  attain¬ 
 ment  more  than  after  the  acquisition  of  any  earthly 
 good.  And  I  do  believe  that  it  is  my  habitual  de¬ 
 sire  and  purpose  to  make  the  doing  ol  the  will  ot 
 God  my  daily  employment;  though  I  am  continually 
 falling  into  sin,  and  not  acting  up  to  my  own  prin¬ 
 ciples  and  desires  :  and  it  is  my  grief  and  burden  that 
 I  do  not  perform  his  will  perfectly. 
 
 In  the  third  place,  the  example  of  my  Lord  and 
 Master,  and  ol  the  blessed  saints  and  martyrs  who 
 have  gone  before  to  heaven,  have  a  beauty  and  glory 
 in  them,  which  put  out  the  lustre  of  all  other  great¬ 
 ness  ;  and  I  long  for  their  spirit,  in  my  poor  measure, 
 with  such  a  desire,  that,  much  as  my  feeble  nature 
 
347 
 
 trembles  at  the  prospect  of  suffering,  I  think  I  feel 
 quite  willing  to  be  carried  through  the  fire  of  tribu¬ 
 lation,  God  helping  me,  if  this  blessed  end  may  be 
 attained.  And  the  attainment  of  this  blessed  end  I 
 desire,  if  I  am  not  deceived,  not  solely  or  principally 
 to  give  me  a  stable  hope  of  salvation,  but  chiefly, 
 because  conformity  in  heart  and  life,  in  desire  and 
 pursuit,  to  the  will  of  God,  appears  to  me  to  have, 
 in  itself,  a  moral  beauty  which  outweighs  the  loss  of 
 temporal  ease  and  comfort.  This,  I  think,  is  my 
 settled  feeling ;  more  so,  I  humbly  hope,  than  it  was 
 at  the  beginning  of  the  year. 
 
 In  the  fourth  place,  I  humbly  trust  I  see  more 
 than  I  did  a  year  ago,  of  the  glory  and  beauty  of 
 the  way  of  salvation  which  God  has  provided — sal¬ 
 vation  wholly  by  grace.  Indeed  I  can  conceive  of  no 
 other  way  in  which  we  could  be  saved.  Salvation, 
 from  first  to  last,  by  the  grace  of  God,  through  the 
 merits  of  the  blessed  Redeemer,  seems  a  wise,  a  holy, 
 and  a  good  way  of  salvation.  My  soul  rests  upon 
 Christ.  And  here,  I  feel,  is  a  firm  and  sure  resting- 
 place,  for  the  spirit  which  has  been  tossed  on  the 
 troubled  sea  of  its  own  efforts  to  procure  acceptance 
 with  God.  I  desire  to  live  upon  Christ  daily  and 
 hourly ;  to  draw  all  my  supplies  from  this  full  foun¬ 
 tain.  And  I  think  I  perceive  more  of  the  blessed¬ 
 ness,  and  feel  more  of  the  u  quietness,”  of  thus  living, 
 than  formerly. 
 
 These  are  some  of  the  reasons  of  the  hope  that  is 
 in  me.  And  I,  prevailingly,  do  not  doubt  that  a 
 work  of  grace  has  been  begun  in  my  soul;  because 
 these  desires  and  feelings,  if  I  have  them,  are  not  the 
 fruit  of  the  natural  heart,  but  of  the  Spirit;  and  I  do 
 
348 
 
 think,  after  repeated,  careful,  and  prayerful  exami¬ 
 nations,  that  I  have  such  feelings  and  desires.  And 
 it  is  my  fervent  wish  to  forget  the  things  that  are 
 behind,  and  press  on  towards  perfection ;  to  be  found, 
 living  or  dying,  the  servant  of  God,  placing  all  my 
 happiness  in  him. 
 
 The  darkest  sign  against  me  is,  I  think,  the  want 
 of  humility,  of  a  broken  and  contrite  heart,  day  b\ 
 day.  I  do  desire  to  hate  sin  more.  But  the  feeble¬ 
 ness  of  the  resistance  I  make  to  it,  in  watching  against 
 declensions  from  God,  distresses  me.  There  is  also 
 much  of  the  detestable  feeling  of  pride  still  in  my 
 heart.  Blessed  Saviour,  undertake  for  me  !  Go 
 thou  with  me  through  another  year,  if  it  is  thy  pur¬ 
 pose  to  spare  me  so  long ;  and  be  my  righteousness, 
 my  strength,  my  sanctification,  my  consolation,  my 
 all  in  all. 
 
 During  the  year  which  she  closed  in  the  pious 
 and  instructive  manner  so  interestingly  described  in 
 the  above  extract,  Mrs.  Huntington  wrote,  and 
 permitted  to  be  published,  anonymously,  a  Tract, 
 entitled  “  A  Letter  to  a  Friend  recovered  from 
 Sickness,”  and  a  book  for  children,  entitled  “  Little 
 Lucy,  or  the  Careless  Child  Reformed.”  The 
 Letter  makes  a  part  of  Xo.  88.  of  the  publications 
 of  the  American  Tract  Society  at  Boston.  1  he 
 story  of  “  Little  Lucy,”  is  highly  interesting ;  and 
 parents,  as  well  as  children,  may  be  profited  by  its 
 
January  4,  1821.  I  am  in  a  quiet  and  happy 
 frame.  My  future  path  and  circumstances  look 
 peaceful,  because  they  will  be  just  what  my  God 
 pleases.  It  is  my  settled  desire  never  to  sit  down 
 as  at  home  on  this  side  Jordan.  To  be  the  servant 
 of  God,  living  and  dying,  and  in  eternity — this  is 
 happiness. 
 
 6.  This  day  I  set  apart  as  a  day  of  fasting  and 
 prayer,  (not  absenting  myself  from  my  family,)  in 
 reference  particularly  to  my  dear  little  Joshua; 
 that,  having  been  graciously  carried  through  his 
 weaning,  he  may  be  wholly  the  Lord’s.  Notwith¬ 
 standing  interruptions,  I  have  had  a  very  solemn 
 day.  I  read  in  the  morning,  parts  of  the  4th,  5th, 
 6th,  8th,  and  9th  chapters  of  Deuteronomy.  I 
 had  a  sweet  and  solemn  sense  of  the  unchangeable¬ 
 ness  of  God,  and  of  his  gracious  covenant,  and  of 
 my  obligation  to  believe  in  the  certainty  of  all  his 
 engagements.  I  viewed  the  covenant  made  with 
 the  children  of  Israel  and  their  seed,  many  hundred 
 years  ago,  as  the  same,  substantially,  with  that  which 
 believers  are  permitted  to  embrace  now.  Oh  the 
 marvellous  grace  of  God  !  “  As  the  heavens  are 
 
 higher  than  the  earth,  so  are  his  ways  higher  than 
 our  ways,  and  his  thoughts  than  our  thoughts  !” 
 Some  part  of  the  time,  I  think,  I  felt  a  wrestling 
 spirit  in  prayer ;  a  sense  of  the  presence  of  my  God, 
 of  the  meanness  of  temporal  things,  of  the  wonderful 
 grace  manifested  in  God’s  entering  into  covenant 
 with  me,  a  transgressor,  a  rebel ;  some  sweet  assur¬ 
 ance  that  he  will  be  my  God,  and  the  God  of  my 
 children ;  and  some  precious  consolation  in  the  re¬ 
 flection,  that  all  this  grace  is  not  promised  for  my 
 
350 
 
 worthiness’  sake,  but  on  account  of  the  obedience 
 unto  death  of  the  incarnate  Son  of  God,  that  it  is 
 the  purchase  of  his  infinite  merits.  Oh  to  cleave  to 
 this  covenant  for  ever ! 
 
 I  feel  as  if  I  had  gained  some  strength  to-day. 
 It  has  been  on  the  whole  a  good  season;  though 
 my  mind  was,  a  part  of  the  time,  disturbed  by  inter¬ 
 ruptions.  And  now,  Lord,  I  take  thee  for  my 
 portion,  and  the  portion  of  my  children  for  ever ! 
 Accept  me  and  them  as  thy  servants,  thy  children; 
 and  do  with  us  according  to  thy  word  !  Amen,  and 
 
 amen. 
 
 12.  I  expect  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  next  week.  My 
 mind  is  quiet  and  tranquil.  Unused  as  I  am  to  the 
 kind  of  care  which  their  boarding  with  me  will  oc¬ 
 casion,  especially  connected  with  the  peculiaiities  of 
 the  case,  so  wounding  to  memory  and  to  nature,  I 
 cannot  but  feel,  that  much  as  I  love  Mr.  W.  and 
 much  as  I  expect  to  love  his  wife,  this  is  a  trial. 
 When  it  was  first  proposed  to  me,  I  thought  it 
 could  not  be.  But  it  is  so  evidently  the  call  of 
 duty,  that  I  dare  not  refuse.  And  I  feel  so  much 
 peace  in  the  desire  I  have  to  glorify  God,  that  I  am 
 willing  he  should  choose  the  way.  It  seems  very 
 unimportant  to  me  how  other  matters  go,  if  my  God 
 will  enable  me  to  be  his  servant  and  to  glorify  him. 
 6i  None  of  us  liveth  to  himself,”  has  been  a  sweet 
 text  to  me  of  late.  So  would  I  live,  blessed  Sa¬ 
 viour,  for  ever.  Amen. 
 
 13.  Surely  I  have  reason,  if  any  one  has,  to  feel 
 like  a  stranger  and  a  pilgrim  on  the  earth.  All  the 
 ties  of  near  relationship,  my  children  excepted,  by 
 which  I  was  bound  to  this  world,  have  been,  one 
 
351 
 
 after  another,  sundered.  And  now  I  wish  never  to 
 have  any  of  these  earthly  ties  renewed.  My  rela¬ 
 tionships  are  in  heaven;  I  feel  a  peculiar,  peaceful, 
 melancholy  satisfaction  in  this  consciousness  daily. 
 It  seems  like  a  still,  small  voice  from  the  world  of 
 spirits  admonishing  me  to  he  girding  myself  to  my 
 journey,  and  setting  my  face  homeward.  It  is  well, 
 Father,  it  is  well.  Only  help  me  to  ding  to  Thee 
 for  ever,  only  remember  me,  in  life  and  in  death, 
 and  I  ask  no  other  portion.  Thou  knowest  best. 
 Do  with  me  as  seemeth  good  unto  thee. 
 
 19.  In  conversation  with  a  mere  child  of  the 
 world  to-day,  my  natural  vivacity  and  openness  led 
 me  to  a  cheerful  and  lively  carriage,  which,  I  am 
 afraid,  had  the  appearance  of  levity.  But  it  was 
 very  far  from  my  heart.  I  am  sometimes  in  danger 
 from  this  quarter,  notwithstanding  all  the  discipline 
 with  which  I  have  been  exercised.  I  do  believe 
 it  is  a  settled  principle  of  my  heart  to  desire  to 
 glorify  God.  This  is  my  joy;  that  for  which  I 
 wish  to  live,  to  die,  to  be  raised  again.  But,  alas  ! 
 though  this  is  with  me  a  settled  principle,  how  de¬ 
 ficient  am  I  in  its  habitual  application  !  How  often 
 do  I  lose  sight  of  it  ?  or  rather,  how  seldom  do  I 
 refer  all  that  I  do  in  the  common  affairs  of  life  to 
 this  end  ?  O  Lord,  teach  thy  sinful  child  to  watch 
 over  these  wandering  affections,  which  so  often  get 
 entangled  in  the  things  which  my  principles  and  my 
 judgment  do  not  regard  as  I  regard  thee  !  Let  me 
 not  be  diverted  from  the  things  not  seen,  by  the 
 deceiving  trifles  and  cares  of  this  visible,  but  transi¬ 
 tory  world  ! 
 
352 
 
 TO  MRS.  H.  OF  BOSTON. 
 
 Boston ,  January  23,  1821. 
 
 I  should  have  been  concerned  lest  your  kind 
 and  flattering  commendations  of  me  would  produce 
 an  effect  on  my  mind  which  you,  as  well  as  myself, 
 would  disapprove,  had  I  received  them  at  an  ordinary 
 time.  At  present,  however,  I  am  passing  through 
 a  course  of  discipline  which  makes  me  feel  that  1 
 am  dust  and  ashes ;  so  that  I  am  not  in  quite  my 
 usual  danger  of  self-elation.  I  cannot  hut  be  affected 
 with  your  tender  expressions  of  kindness.  But 
 the  more  X  feel  that  I  am  nothing,  the  happier  X 
 am.  And,  my  beloved  friend,  it  is  now  my  desire 
 hereafter  to  make  the  promotion  of  the  gloiy  of 
 God  my  object,  my  end,  my  happiness.  I  wish  to 
 seek  no  other,  to  desire  no  other.  But  oh,  it  is  a 
 hard  lesson  for  poor,  depraved  nature  !  Yet  X  think 
 I  am  willing  to  suffer,  if  X  may  but  learn  it.  Oh 
 to  remember  heaven  as  my  home,  Christ  as  my 
 portion,  and  myself  as  made  only  for  him;  to  be  his 
 servant,  and  to  let  him  choose  the  place  where,  and 
 the  work  by  which,  I  shall  serve  him ;  to  lose  my 
 will  in  his,  my  interest  in  his ;  to  love  the  church 
 because  it  is  his  body,  and  to  choose  nothing  but 
 what  he  chooses!  This  is  what  I  am  labouring 
 
 after. 
 
 January  27.  My  birth  day.  I  am  this  day  thirty 
 years  old.  I  wished  to  have  spent  the  day  in  fasting 
 and  prayer,  hut  could  not.  I  have  had  little  oppor¬ 
 tunity  or  time  for  retirement,  and  my  soul  has  con- 
 
353 
 
 sequently  been  in  a  languid,  earthly  frame.  I  can 
 have  no  spiritual  prosperity  without  more  time  for 
 secret  prayer  than  I  have  been  able  to  devote  to  this 
 important  and  delightful  duty  of  late. — Mr.  and 
 Mrs.  W.  came  five  days  ago.  My  feelings  have, 
 thus  far,  been  wonderfully  less  tried  than  I  expected. 
 Oh  to  consecrate  myself  anew ,  soul,  and  body,  and 
 spirit,  to  the  Lord,  from  this  time  forth,  and  for 
 ever  f 
 
 February  17.  I  have  been,  for  some  days  past,  in 
 a  state  of  criminal  distance  from  G-od,  of  worldliness 
 and  of  sloth.  My  secret  prayers  have  been  snort, 
 and  hurried,  and  formal.  I  have  been  trying  to 
 have  my  heart  broken  before  God  to-night.  I  long 
 for  an  humble,  a  contrite  heart.  To-morrow  I  am, 
 if  Providence  permit,  to  attend  the  holy  communion. 
 There  are  several  things  for  which  I  wish  to  be 
 enabled  to  "wrestle  with  God  when  I  draw  near  to 
 him  at  Ins  table.  Particularly,  grace  to  use  all 
 temporal  mercies  with  a  reference  to  his  glory ;  to 
 he  more  engaged  and  spiritual,  in  family  prayer ;  to 
 redeem  time,  that  I  may  have  more  opportunities 
 for  secret  devotion;  and  to  be  humble,  that  I  may 
 not  think  so  much  of  the  good  opinion  of  men.  Next 
 week  is  assigned  for  the  ordination.  I  ought  to  be 
 much  in  prayer  for  Mr.  W.  and  the  dear  flock,  as 
 well  as  for  myself  and  children.  Oh  to  weep  over 
 my  sins  !  Blessed  Saviour,  let  to-morrow  be  to  me 
 a  strengthening,  humbling  season. 
 
 19.  I  enjoyed,  I  trust,  something  of  the  pre¬ 
 sence  of  my  Saviour  yesterday.  The  grace  of  God, 
 in  taking  such  a  worm,  such  a  rebel  as  I  am,  into 
 covenant  with  himself,  is  wonderful.  Oh,  what  am 
 
354 
 
 I,  and  what  is  my  father’s  house  !  I  felt  that  I  did 
 not  deserve  the  crumbs  which  fell  from  my  Master’s 
 table.  But  hitherto  I  have  been  nourished  with  the 
 children’s  bread.  Oh  to  glorify  God,  in  my  body 
 and  in  my  spirit,  which  are  God’s  ! 
 
 21.  The  day  is  past  which  has  given  to  this 
 people  another  minister,  to  occupy  the  place  of  him 
 who  will  ever  live  in  my  fond  remembrance.  I  have 
 not  been  in  as  prayerful  a  frame  as  I  ought.  My 
 mind  was  too  much  occupied  with  personal  feelings. 
 And  yet,  I  hope,  I  felt  that  I  had  no  interests  in 
 opposition  to  those  of  God,  and  that  the  predominant 
 desire  of  my  heart  was,  that  he  would  glorify  himself. 
 Oh  for  humility  !  Oh  to  go  with  my  face  in  the 
 dust  for  ever  !  Backslider  is  my  name.  Yet  £<  whom 
 he  calls,  them  he  also  justifies;  and  whom  he  justifies, 
 them  he  also  glorifies.”  Here  is  my  hope,  in  the 
 unmerited,  rich,  sovereign,  and  unchanging  love  of 
 God.  Here  I  cast  my  anchor.  Here  let  me  take 
 up  my  rest  for  ever. 
 
 t 
 
 TO  MISS  - ,  OF  BOSTON,  AT  - . 
 
 Boston ,  March  9,  1821. 
 
 My  dear  S. — I  have  been  reading  a  letter  of 
 yours  this  afternoon,  with  which  I  was  much  in¬ 
 terested;  and  although  I  do  not  expect  to  suggest 
 to  your  mind  any  new  truths  in  reference  to  your 
 present  circumstances,  I  feel  a  strong  desire  to  write 
 a  few  lines  to  you  this  evening.  This  desire  results, 
 if  I  know  my  own  heart,  from  an  earnest  wish  for 
 your  welfare,  and  the  humble  hope  of  saying  some- 
 
355 
 
 thing  which  the  great  Searcher  of  hearts  may  be 
 pleased  to  bless  to  you. 
 
 I  have  many  reasons,  my  dear  S.  for  being  in¬ 
 terested  in  you.  I  love  you  for  your  parent’s  sake ; 
 and  I  love  you,  as  being  one  of  the  lambs  of  that 
 flock  of  which  my  dear  husband  was  so  recently  the 
 overseer;  and  I  cannot  but  rejoice  when  any  of  these 
 “  little  ones”  are  gathered  into  that  spiritual  king¬ 
 dom  which  is  dearer  than  any,  than  every  thing  else, 
 to  all  the  members  of  it.  Your  situation  at  present, 
 my  dear  girl,  is  a  critical  one.  God  has  been  call¬ 
 ing  you  in  many  ways  of  late,  and  I  do  hope  that 
 he  is  now  himself  preparing  your  heart  to  answer  the 
 call — 66  Wilt  thou  not,  from  this  time,  cry  unto  me, 
 My  Father,  thou  art  the  guide  of  my  youth  !” 
 
 Let  me  entreat  you  to  be  earnest  in  religion.  Re¬ 
 member  that  no  great  object  is  likely  to  be  obtained 
 without  persevering  diligence,  and  a  courageous  de¬ 
 termination  not  to  be  defeated  by  difficulties.  If 
 this  is  the  case  in  reference  to  temporal  objects,  the 
 attainment  of  which  is  opposed  only  by  natural  hin- 
 derances,  surely  it  is  the  case  with  spiritual  things.  If 
 the  acquisition  of  human  science  can  be  accomplished 
 only  by  labour  and  diligence,  when  the  object  of 
 pursuit  is  often  pleasant  and  agreeable  to  the  natural 
 taste,  oh,  with  what  earnestness  and  strength  of 
 effort  must  that  spiritual  knowledge  be  sought  and 
 laboured  after  which  is  eternal  life,  and  the  acquisi¬ 
 tion  of  which  is  rendered  so  inexpressibly  difficult, 
 by  all  the  moral  hinderances  which  result  from  a 
 nature  wholly  averse  and  opposed  to  it !  Difficult 
 indeed,  impossible  would  it  be  for  us  to  obtain  this 
 best  of  all  knowledge,  the  knowledge  of  ourselves 
 
356 
 
 and  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  were  not  the  grace 
 and  strength  of  Him  who  is  able  to  save  to  the  utter- 
 
 o 
 
 most  promised  to  all  who  really  seek  them.  ii  It 
 is  God  which  worketh  in  us  both  to  will  and  to  do 
 of  his  good  pleasure and,  on  this  account ,  we  are 
 exhorted  to  “  work  out  our  own  salvation  with  fear 
 and  trembling.” 
 
 But  remember,  my  dear  S.  you  have  a  part  to 
 perform  in  this  great  work.  Strive  to  understand 
 what  that  part  is.  In  reading  the  blessed  word  of 
 God,  carefully  distinguish  between  what  he  has  en¬ 
 gaged  to  do,  and  what  he  requires  you  to  do.  Do 
 your  part  faithfully,  and  he  will  certainly  perform  his. 
 When  I  say  you  have  something  to  do,  I  do  not  mean 
 that  you  can  do  any  thing  which  will  serve  you  as  a 
 ground  of  justification — any  thing  to  lay  the  Most 
 High  under  any  obligation  to  bestow  his  mercy  upon 
 you.  What  the  precise  connexion  is  which  God  has 
 established  between  those  means  and  duties  which  he 
 prescribes  to  his  creatures,  and  the  attainment  of  his 
 blessing,  we  do  not  know.  Nor  is  it  necessary  we 
 should.  One  thing  we  do  know — that  it  is  the  duty 
 of  every  subject  of  God’s  moral  government  to  ob¬ 
 serve  all  the  statutes  of  the  Lord  to  do  them.  \  ou 
 are  called  upon  to  seek  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  to 
 strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate,  to  ask  that  you 
 may  receive,  to  repent  and  believe  the  gospel,  to  en¬ 
 rol  yourself  on  the  Lord’s  side,  to  renounce  the  world, 
 and  take  up  your  cross,  and  follow  the  Saviour.  Do 
 you  say,  <c  I  cannot  do  this  !”  I  answer,  Has  not  God 
 commanded  you  to  do  it  ?  And  does  he  command 
 us  to  do  what  we  are  unable  to  do,  what  we  cannot 
 do  if  we  will?  Is  there  unrighteousness  with  God  ? 
 
357 
 
 Do  not  encourage  on  slight  grounds  the  hope  that 
 you  are  a  Christian.  Remember,  my  dear  S.  you  are 
 now  laying  your  foundation  for  eternity.  Solemn 
 thought !  Soon  every  man’s  work  must  be  tried, 
 what  sort  it  is.  Do  not  rest  satisfied  so  long  as  the 
 all-important  question,  c  Am  I  a  Christian  or  not?’ 
 is  undecided.  Dread  nothing  so  much  as  putting 
 your  hand  to  the  plough  and  looking  back  ;  as  begin¬ 
 ning  to  run  well,  and  being  hindered  by  a  tempting 
 world,  or  a  subtle  enemy,  or  a  treacherous  heart.  De¬ 
 termine,  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord,  that  you  will 
 persevere  unto  the  end,  that  you  may  be  saved.  The 
 time  is  short.  Heaven  is  worth  labouring  for.  And 
 in  due  time  you  shall  reap,  if  you  faint  not. 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  March  14,  1821. 
 
 I  wish  I  could  tell  you  of  our  spiritual  pros¬ 
 perity.  Some  of  our  good  people  are  much  engaged 
 in  religion,  but  the  number  of  such  is  small.  The 
 followers  of  the  Lord  Jesus  must  be  driven  away 
 from  all  their  carnal  resting-places,  before  we,  as  a 
 church,  shall  look  forth,  <c  fair  as  the  moon,  clear  as 
 the  sun,  and  terrible  as  an  army  with  banners.”  We 
 are  a  little  band,  and  we  are  in  the  enemy’s  country. 
 W e  must  be  more  watchful  and  spiritual  than  ordi¬ 
 nary  Christians,  or  we  shall  be  in  great  danger  of 
 being  carried  away  by  the  dissimulation  of  the  ene¬ 
 mies  of  the  cross. 
 
 The  Christian  church  is  a  distinct  community 
 from  the  rest  of  the  world ;  united  by  different  bonds, 
 governed  by  different  principles,  and  controlled  by  dif- 
 
358 
 
 ferent  obligations,  from  all  other  communities ;  and 
 the  more  closely  it  adheres  to  its  distinctive  principles, 
 the  more  entirely  it  is,  in  the  spirit  and  conduct  of  its 
 members,  separate  from  the  world,  the  better  for  its 
 true  prosperity.  We  must  be  brought  to  declare 
 plainly,  by  our  lives  and  conversation,  that  we  are 
 supremely  devoted  to  Christ,  before  we  can  expect  a 
 blessing. 
 
 I  have  purchased  a  house  in  a  healthy  and  respec¬ 
 table  part  of  the  town.  I  had  the  advice  of  judi¬ 
 cious  friends  on  the  subject,  who  unanimously  recom¬ 
 mended  the  measure.  I  shall,  if  providence  permit, 
 remove  as  soon  as  the  necessary  repairs  shall  have 
 been  made. 
 
 March  19.  With  a  settled  purpose,  and  deter¬ 
 mination  and  choice,  I  now  give  myself,  and  all  that 
 I  have,  wholly  up  to  my  Saviour.  Oh  for  my  chil¬ 
 dren  !  None  of  them  have  yet  chosen  the  one  thing 
 needful.  My  anxiety  for  them  increases.  And 
 sometimes  I  hope,  and  sometimes  I  lose  courage. 
 Perhaps  I  could  not  bear  to  see  the  spiritual  pros¬ 
 perity  of  my  children.  They  may  not  stand  up 
 openly  on  the  Lord’s  side  till  I  am  removed  out  of 
 the  way  of  being  proud  of  it.  But,  O  my  God ! 
 give  me  a  token  for  good,  lest  my  heart  fail  me. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  B. 
 
 Boston ,  March  25,  1821. 
 
 You  wish  to  know  how  I  get  along  in  my  new 
 situation.  I  am  happy  in  being  able  to  answer, 
 Very  comfortably  and  pleasantly.  My  feelings  have 
 
359 
 
 been  much  less  tired  than  I  expected.  God  is  very- 
 good  to  me.  His  strong  arm  restrains  and  prevents 
 the  outbreakings  of  those  corruptions  which  would 
 destroy  all  my  peace  of  mind,  though  he  shows  me 
 enough  of  them  to  make  me  sensible  that  I  ought 
 to  go  in  the  dust  all  the  days  of  my  life.  I  think  I 
 never  sighed  after  that  cardinal  grace,  humility,  so 
 much  as  now. 
 
 When  your  note  first  came,  and  I  read  in  it  the 
 question,  “  What  are  you  doing?”  I  intended  to 
 have  answered,  fi  Striving  to  bring  my  evil  heart  to 
 feel  that  the  place  God  assigns  me  is  best;  that 
 nothing  is  to  be  desired,  comparatively,  but  grace  to 
 glorify  him ;  that  no  creature  should  set  up  any  in¬ 
 terests  in  opposition  to  his ;  and  that  the  happiness 
 of  every  individual  Christian  is  most  effectually  pro¬ 
 moted  by  his  exertions  for  the  general  welfare  of 
 the  w'hole  body  of  Christ.  I  want  to  love  the 
 chosen  of  my  blessed  Lord  and  Master  a  thousand 
 times  more  than  the  promotion  of  my  own  private 
 interest;  to  find  my  happiness  in  being  made  the  hum¬ 
 ble  instrument  of  edifying  his  body,  the  church,  in 
 the  way  his  infinite  wisdom  may  prescribe,  though  it 
 may  be  in  a  way  hard  to  flesh  and  blood.’  I  said  I 
 intended  to  have  given  you  the  answer  above,  for  I 
 then  thought  it  was  what  I  was  doing.  But  to  day 
 I  have  been  so  stupid,  I  could  hardly  say  I  desired 
 any  thing.  The  soul  cannot  thrive,  it  appears  to 
 me,  without  a  great  deal  more  time  for  secret  prayer 
 than  I  have  had  for  some  days  past.  Oh,  this  want 
 of  spirituality,  this  want  of  heart- religion,  is  a  sad 
 evidence  of  the  low  state  of  our  graces,  if  we  are 
 Christians  ! 
 
360 
 
 As  to  what  I  am  “  anticipating”  with  respect  to 
 this  world,  I  can  hardly  tell  what,  excepting  that  I 
 know  that,  in  every  place,  sins,  and  sorrows,  and  con¬ 
 flicts  abide  me.  Oh  to  add,  none  of  these  things 
 move  me  from  my  stable  hold  on  the  Rock  of  ages ; 
 neither  count  I  my  life  dear  unto  myself,  so  that  I 
 may  finish  my  course  with  joy  ! 
 
 April  22.  I  find  the  world  is  still  a  snare  to  me.  I 
 once  thought  its  lustre  all  put  out,  its  illusive  fascina¬ 
 tions  broken.  It  was,  comparatively,  laid  at  my  feet; 
 and  I  was  happy,  though  the  stroke  which  made  me 
 view  it  thus  penetrated  my  very  soul.  Alas  !  alas  ! 
 my  vain  and  wandering  heart !  why  dost  thou  still 
 attempt  to  fasten  thy  affections  on  this  world,  or  any 
 thing  in  it  ?  I  have  tried  it,  and  found  it  vanity. 
 God  taught  me  to  he  happy  in  himself;  and  I  did 
 feel  that  I  desired  nothing  else.  O  that,  with  tears 
 of  contrition,  I  might  give  myself  once  more  wholly 
 to  my  Saviour  ! 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  May  1,  1821. 
 
 Our  dear  sister  Mary*  is  in  a  critical  situation. 
 I  consider  her  recovery  very  doubtful.  But  she  is 
 a  dear  member  of  the  body  of  Christ,  and  all  is  well 
 as  it  respects  her.  I  never  sawr  her  appear  so  ami¬ 
 able  and  lovely.  Affliction  teaches  us  our  weakness 
 and  dependence,  and  the  delightful  lesson  of  feeling 
 
 *  The  late  Mrs.  Mary  Huntington,  wife  of  the  Rev.  Daniel 
 Huntington  of  North  Bridgewater. 
 
361 
 
 another’s  woe.  It  cherishes  and  improves  all  those 
 moral  sensibilities  which  enable  us  to  weep  with  them 
 that  weep,  and  rejoice  with  them  that  rejoice. 
 
 I  send  you,  under  the  care  of  the  bearer,  my  dear 
 daughter  S.  to  spend  the  summer  with  you,  agree¬ 
 ably  to  your  request  and  my  promise.  I  wish  you 
 to  manage  her  just  as  you  would  your  own  child. 
 Oh  that  this  summer  might  be  the  long-desired  sea¬ 
 son,  in  which  the  Holy  Spirit  shall  effectually  con¬ 
 strain  her  to  set  her  face  toward  Zion,  and  give  her¬ 
 self  up  entirely  to  the  God  of  her  fathers  ! 
 
 May  2.  I  find  I  have  reason  to  be  jealous  even 
 of  innocent  friendships,  for  they  are  prone  to  crowd 
 my  Saviour  out  of  my  heart.  So  foolish  am  I,  and 
 practically  ignorant.  When  shall  I  be  delivered 
 from  the  allurements  of  a  flattering  and  dangerous 
 world  ?  I  long  for  that  inflexible  determination  of 
 spirit,  that  settled,  immoveable  purpose  of  soul  in 
 regard  to  religion,  which  should  enable  me  to  oppose 
 such  a  resistance  to  temptation,  as  to  disarm  it  at 
 once  of  its  efficacy.  <c  I  am  doing  a  great  work,  I 
 cannot  come  down.”  My  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  I  look 
 to  thee.  All  my  springs  are  in  thee.  Oh  let  me, 
 of  thy  fulness,  receive  grace  for  grace  ! 
 
 13.  Communion-day.  My  mind  was  sweetly  so¬ 
 lemn  and  serene  a  part  of  the  time  this  morning. 
 I  read  the  sixth  chapter  of  Hebrews.  It  was  very 
 precious  to  me.  I  had  some  earnest  desires  after 
 conformity  to  God,  and  preparation  for  his  kingdom  ; 
 and,  at  the  communion,  some  brokenness  of  heart  for 
 sin,  and  some  sweet  sense  of  the  presence  and  pre¬ 
 ciousness  of  my  Saviour.  There  is  nothing  here  to 
 
 Q  41 
 
362 
 
 be  loved,  comparatively,  but  God.  Death  becomes, 
 increasingly,  to  me  an  object  of  desire. 
 
 TO  HER  ELDEST  DAUGHTER  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  May  15,  1821. 
 
 My  dear  S. — I  received  a  letter  from  your  aunt 
 immediately  after  your  arrival  in  N.  L.  But  I  be¬ 
 gin  to  feel  a  strong  desire  to  hear  again  how  you  are, 
 and  whether  you  are  pleased  with  your  new  situation. 
 It  has  been  my  prayer,  that  this  removal  from  the 
 noise  and  bustle  of  your  own  town  and  family  might 
 be  sanctified  to  you,  might  lead  you  to  reflect  on 
 that  peaceful,  happy  world,  into  which  there  shall  in 
 nowise  enter  any  thing  that  defileth  ;  that  world  whi¬ 
 ther  our  dear,  dear  earthly  counsellor  and  head  has 
 gone  ;  that  world  which  is  constantly  receiving  all  the 
 wisest  and  best  who  have  lived  in  this.  Are  you 
 prepared  for  that  world  ?  This  is  the  question  I 
 long  to  have  you  put  to  yourself.  And  now  is  the 
 best  time.  Why  should  you  delay  it  ?  And  if 
 conscience  tells  you  that  you  are  not  prepaied  for  it; 
 oh,  my  dear  S.  do  not  rest  till  you  have  some  evi¬ 
 dence  that  you  have  begun  to  attain  the  preparation 
 prescribed  in  the  word  of  God.  What  will  it  profit 
 you,  if  you  gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose  your  soul  ? 
 
 Your  dear  aunt  Mary  is  quite  ill  yet.  Indeed 
 she  has  been  worse  ever  since  you  went  to  Connecti¬ 
 cut,  though  she  is  now  considerably  relieved.  Her 
 cough  is  very  bad.  I  am  afraid  she  is  going  to  leave 
 your  little  cousins  motherless.  Oh,  what  a  solemn 
 thing  it  is  for  children  to  lose  a  good  parent !  My 
 heart  still  aches  when  I  think  of  your  loss.  And  yet 
 
363 
 
 your  parents  gave  you  to  God ;  and  father,  mother, 
 and  all  other  friends,  are  nothing  without  him.  If 
 he  is  your  Father,  it  is  sufficient.  He  will  carry  you, 
 under  the  shadow  of  his  wings,  through  the  wilder¬ 
 ness  of  this  world.  He  will  lead  you  safe  through 
 the  snares  spread  beneath  your  feet  by  the  subtle 
 enemy  of  your  salvation.  He  will  sustain  you  under 
 the  sorrows  of  this  life,  which  all  find  a  life  of  trial. 
 He  will  guide  you  by  his  counsel,  and  afterwards 
 receive  you  to  glory. 
 
 May  18.  I  feel  myself  greatly  deficient  in  that 
 charity  which  seeketh  not  her  own.  I  therefore  re¬ 
 solved  this  day  to  labour  hereafter,  by  the  grace  of 
 God,  to  seek  chiefly,  not  my  own  happiness  alone, 
 but  the  happiness  of  others  also ;  and  this,  not  in 
 relation  to  this  world  only,  but  also  to  the  next.  I 
 resolved  to  ask  myself  daily,  What  can  I  do  to-day 
 for  the  good  of  those  about  me,  or  of  those  whom  I 
 shall  meet  ?  Help  me,  Lord,  neither  to  expect  nor 
 desire  a  return  of  love  on  the  part  of  others — that 
 idol  which  I  have  sighed  after  so  much;  but  to  labour 
 to  do  all  the  good  I  can  to  others,  even  in  opposition 
 to  indifference  or  neglect. 
 
 25.  I  long  to  take  my  place  at  the  feet  of  my 
 Saviour,  and  never  wander  from  him  more.  There 
 I  would  sit,  and  weep,  and  mourn  over  sin.  The 
 pardoning  mercy  of  my  God  makes  my  backslidings 
 look  deeply  criminal  and  odious.  Oh  to  render  to 
 my  blessed  Lord  a  perfect,  an  unwavering  obedience ; 
 to  forsake  him  again  no  more  for  ever  !  My  tears 
 flow’  at  the  remembrance  of  my  hateful  ingratitude. 
 
 Q  2 
 
364 
 
 1  feel  that  I  am  weak,  and  my  corruptions  are  strong, 
 
 4  flattering  world  holds  out  its  allurements;  and  my 
 vain  affections  are  enticed  from  Him  whom  I  desire 
 to  love  with  my  whole  heart.  But,  if  sin  must  dwell 
 in  me,  blessed  Saviour !  let  it  not  reign  over  me. 
 
 I  have  been  laying  my  case  before  my  covenant  God 
 
 _ praying  him  to  weaken  my  corruptions  and  sanctify 
 
 me,  whatever  means  he  sees  to  be  necessary  tor  the 
 accomplishment  of  that  end.  Even  so,  Lord  !  All 
 these  thine  enemies,  who  will  not  that  thou  shouldst 
 reign  within  me,  I  bring  to  thee.  Slay  them  utterly, 
 
 I  pray  thee ;  and  thine  will  be  the  praise  for  ever. 
 
 30.  I  attended  the  prayer-meeting  at  Park  Street 
 church  this  morning  at  five  o’clock.  I  enjoyed  it. 
 It  seemed  delightful  to  meet  with  the  dear  people  of 
 God,  though  I  felt  as  if  I  were  not  worthy  to  appear 
 among  them.  I  felt  a  sweet  love  to  them  all,  and 
 some  longing  desires  to  be  diligent  in  doing  the  work 
 1  have  given  me  to  do  here.  Oh  to  inquire  every 
 day,  and  be  governed  through  the  day  by  the  answer, 
 What  can  I  do  to-day  for  my  Saviour,  in  my  own 
 soul,  in  my  family,  and  in  all  over  whom  I  have  any 
 influence  ?  Oh  to  be  faithful,  as  one  that  must  give 
 
 an  account ! 
 
 June  7.  Rode  to-day  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  , 
 
 and  two  other  friends.  My  mind  was,  a  part  of  the 
 time,  sweetly  calm  and  tranquil.  I  felt  the  spirit  of 
 a  pilgrim ;  and  that,  though  my  dear  husband  was 
 not  there,  he  was  in  a  better  place.  This  world 
 looked  very  beautiful,  as  God’s  world,  and  my  path 
 to  heaven.  But  I  felt  that  it  was  not  my  home. 
 No,  no.  Nearly  all  my  early  relatives  have  passed 
 
365 
 
 through  the  wilderness,  and  their  feet  are  planted  on 
 the  opposite  shore.  I  must  go  forward.  Help  me 
 to  do  so,  thou  Author  and  Finisher  of  my  faith  ! 
 
 10.  I  have  been  ready  to  long  after  death  as  the 
 only  means  of  releasing  me  from  a  captivity  which  I 
 feel  to  be  my  sorrow  and  my  sin.  I  groan,  being 
 burdened.  I  have  to-day  received  afresh  the  seal  of 
 my  adoption,  externally,  into  the  family  of  Christ. 
 I  did  renew  my  choice  of  him.  My  soul  glories  in 
 the  choice.  I  would  not  go  back  to  the  enjoyment 
 of  this  world  for  all  it  can  offer;  no,  not  if  I  were 
 sure  of  ultimate  salvation.  I  feel  as  if  I  should  sit 
 in  some  sad  corner,  and  weep  after  my  Beloved. 
 
 12.  A  few  weeks  since  I  went  to  see  a  young 
 man,  a  former  acquaintance  of  mine,  in  a  decline. 
 He  has  of  late  attended  one  of  the  Unitarian  meet¬ 
 ings  in  town.  I  conversed  with  him  respecting  his 
 future  prospects,  with  tenderness  and  affection.  To 
 my  astonishment,  that  visit  has  been  made  the  sub¬ 
 ject  of  a  newspaper  sarcasm,  is  much  talked  of,  and 
 much  misrepresented.  My  natural  feelings  instinc¬ 
 tively  revolt  from  being  the  subject  of  public  allu¬ 
 sion  ;  and  had  I  anticipated  such  a  trial,  it  would 
 have  disturbed  me  greatly.  As  it  is,  however,  1  am 
 astonished  to  find  that  it  does  not  move  me.  If  I 
 have  had  any  idol,  it  has  been  my  good  name.  But 
 as  I  should  not  dare,  under  the  like  circumstances, 
 to  refuse  a  compliance  with  a  similar  request,  I  feel 
 willing  to  abide  the  consequences.  Two  things  com¬ 
 fort  me,  and  are  causes  of  thankfulness: — that,  in 
 looking  back  upon  the  interview,  I  do  not  remember 
 one  word  which  I  said,  that  I  now  wish  unsaid,  or 
 
366 
 
 that  I  was  influenced  by  any  improper  motive ;  my 
 simple  wish  was  to  do  good  to  a  soul,  which,  I  saw, 
 must  soon  pass  into  eternity ; — and  that  now,  I  am 
 not  thrown  into  any  disquietness  of  spirit  by  angry 
 feelings  toward  any  of  the  persons  who  have  been 
 concerned  in  this  matter.  I  feel  a  sweet  spirit  of 
 love  and  compassion,  and  forgiveness  towards  them, 
 and  a  sincere  desire  that  God  would  forgive  them,  if 
 it  is  opposition  to  his  truth  which  is  thus  exhibiting 
 itself.  My  mind  has  been  very  happy,  since  the 
 facts  I  have  mentioned  came  to  my  knowledge.  I 
 thank  my  God  that  I  do  not  feel  angry,  or  impatient, 
 or  revengeful :  but  that  I  feel  the  opposite  emotions. 
 This  keeps  my  mind  very  peaceful. 
 
 And  now,  oh  my  blessed  Father,  hear  me  in  two 
 requests.  Let  me  not  be  subjected  to  the  strife  of 
 tongues,  any  farther  than  I  shall  be  enabled,  by  thy 
 grace,  to  turn  it  to  a  real  advantage,  in  growing,  by 
 it,  more  watchful,  and  humble,  and  weaned  from  the 
 world,  so  that  my  influence  in  thy  cause  may  be 
 rather  promoted  than  hindered.  And  let  it  be  the 
 means,  in  some  way,  of  advancing  thy  glory.  Oh 
 let  me  not  be  even  the  innocent  cause  of  hindering 
 that  interest  which  I  love  better  than  any  thing 
 beside ! 
 
 TO  HER  ELDEST  DAUGHTER  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  June  13,  1821. 
 
 I  hope  you  will  strive  to  render  yourself  worthy 
 of  the  affection  and  confidence  of  your  friends.  \  our 
 present  advantages  are  greater  than  you  have  hitherto 
 
367 
 
 had;  so  that  I  am  anxious  to  have  you  improve 
 your  time,  and  make  the  most  of  your  present  situa¬ 
 tion.  But  all  the  learning  in  the  world  will  not 
 make  a  person  useful  unless  he  is  determined  to  be 
 so.  I  want  to  have  you  constantly  keep  in  mind, 
 that  you  were  created  to  glorify  God,  and  that  the 
 proper  end  of  all  knowledge  is  to  do  good.  You  are 
 not  too  young  to  do  good  now.  You  can  set  an 
 example  of  neatness  and  diligence  to  your  school¬ 
 mates.  You  can  please  and  gratify  your  good 
 friends,  by  your  active  and  cheerful  compliance  with 
 all  their  wishes.  And  you  can  let  the  little  circle 
 of  your  associates  see  that  you  hate  and  despise 
 vanity,  and  pride,  and  selfishness,  and  falsehood,  in 
 every  form.  My  dear  S.  never  forget  that  you 
 were  made  for  God,  and  that  your  glory  and  hap¬ 
 piness  is  to  be  his  servant,  as  the  angels  are,  as  the 
 glorified  saints  are,  as  all  holy  beings  in  this  world 
 are,  so  far  as  they  are  holy.  Join  yourself,  my  child, 
 to  this  blessed  company — the  household  of  God, 
 now ,  while  you  are  young,  and  you  will  be  blessed 
 indeed. 
 
 TO  MISS  - ,  OF  BOSTON. 
 
 Boston ,  June  28,  1821. 
 
 It  quite  pains  me,  in  prospect  of  my  intended 
 removal  to  my  own  house,  that,  on  account  of  the 
 distance,  I  shall  not  see  you,  my  dear  friend,  as 
 often  as  I  have  done.  You  have  been  the  compa¬ 
 nion  of  my  tribulations ;  and  the  thought  of  being 
 so  circumstanced  in  any  way  as  not  to  be  frequently 
 with  you,  saddens  my  heart.  But  then,  beloved, 
 
368 
 
 I  hope  to  live  with  you  for  ever.  And  when  my 
 mind  fixes  its  contemplations  on  that  haven  of  rest 
 which  we  hope  to  reach,  after  our  stormy  passage 
 over  the  troubled  ocean  of  this  life, — when  I  reflect 
 on  the  peaceful,  blessed  home,  at  which  we  hope  to 
 arrive,  after  passing  all  the  dangers  and  all  the  sor¬ 
 rows  of  the  intervening  wilderness, — I  am  refreshed. 
 Yes,  my  sister;  my  eyes  fill  with  tears  of  hope  and 
 joy,  as  I  write,  at  the  reflection  that,  through  grace, 
 I  trust  this  felicity  awaits  us.  “  In  my  Father’s 
 house  are  many  mansions.  I  go  to  prepare  a  place 
 for  you.  And  if  I  go  and  prepare  a  place  for  you, 
 1  will  come  again,  and  receive  you  to  myself;  that 
 where  I  am,  there  ye  may  be  also.”  And  faithful 
 is  Fie  who  has  promised. 
 
 For  myself,  I  believe  I  am  not  sick  of  the  world 
 on  account  of  its  vexations  and  trials.  Few  have 
 more  friends  to  love  dearly  than  unworthy  I.  And 
 yet  I  do  believe,  putting  the  dread  of  death  out  oi 
 the  question,  there  is  nothing  here  which  I  would  not 
 leave  any  moment,  to  go  and  be  with  Christ,  which 
 
 is  far,  far  better.  My  dear  Miss - ,  I  feel,  a 
 
 great  deal  of  the  time,  that  I  have  no  cause  for  un¬ 
 easiness  but  sin.  You  thought,  and  1  thought,  my 
 present  situation  would  be  a  trying  one.  But  God 
 has  made  it  very  easy  and  pleasant  to  me.  I  long 
 for  a  orateful  and  humble  heart.  I  am  afraid  of 
 
 O 
 
 nothing  hut  myself.  Do,  dear  friend,  pray  that  I 
 may  glorify  God.  Sometimes  every  other  object 
 looks  light  and  vain,  and  not  worthy  of  an  anxious 
 thought.  Oh  to  be  found  just  in  the  place  God  ap¬ 
 points,  and  doing  the  work  he  appoints,  and  bearing 
 the  trials  he  appoints ;  and  to  find  my  happiness  in  all 
 
369 
 
 this !  It  is  sweet  to  be  wholly  at  his  disposal,  to 
 
 lose  our  own  interests  and  will  in  his.  This  is  what 
 
 I  long  for ;  and  it  is  refreshing  to  believe  that  I  shall 
 
 one  day  attain  it. 
 
 ¥ 
 
 July  13.  Since  I  last  wrote  in  my  journal,  I  have 
 passed  through  an  eventful  and  interesting  scene.  I 
 have  left  the  parsonage-house,  and  am  established  by 
 myself  in  a  distant  part  of  the  town,  remote  from 
 most  of  our  beloved  people,  alas  !  no  longer  mine. 
 I  was  supported  under  this  trial  beyond  all  my  ex¬ 
 pectations,  though  I  have  had  some  hours  of  bitter 
 suffering;.  The  moment  of  leaving;  that  habitation 
 — the  scene  of  so  many  enjoyments,  where  I  had 
 spent  eleven  of  the  happiest  years  of  my  life,  where 
 I  had  loved  and  lost  my  husband,  where  I  had  expe¬ 
 rienced  deliverances  and  spiritual  comforts,  numerous 
 and  inexpressible — was  full  of  agony.  It  seemed 
 like  sundering  myself  from  the  last  relic  of  departed 
 joys.  And  the  sense  of  loneliness  I  felt  on  first 
 entering  my  own  house,  I  cannot  describe.  All 
 alone  !  Where,  oh  where,  the  eye,  the  heart  of 
 sympathy ;  where  the  ear  that  will  listen  to  the  sor¬ 
 rows  of  my  soul ;  where  the  being  whose  interests 
 and  hopes,  whose  joys  and  sorrows,  are  identified 
 with  mine  ?  In  all  the  wide  world  my  eye  rests  not 
 on  such  a  being.  I  shudder,  and  throw  myself  as  a 
 weary  and  helpless  stranger  at  the  feet  of  the  widow’s 
 God,  the  orphan’s  Friend.  I  do  not  have  those 
 sensible  comforts,  nor  those  spiritual  desires,  which 
 I  long  to  feel.  I  have  had  some  glimpses  from 
 above,  which  have  cheered  me ;  but  they  were  tran¬ 
 sient.  Faith  seems  weak. 
 
 S3 
 
370 
 
 It  is  my  desire  to  set  up  my  altar  to  the  Lord  my 
 God,  and  to  consecrate  to  him  all  I  have.  I  desire 
 that  Holiness  unto  the  Lord  should  be  inscribed 
 on  every  thing  in  my  house. — As  to  my  situation,  it 
 is  pleasant  and  comfortable,  so  far  as  it  can  be.  And 
 if  I  had  more  of  the  presence  of  my  Saviour,  I  should 
 covet  nothing  better  or  greater.  I  want  comfort, 
 joy  in  my  Lord,  such  as  I  have  had.  Help  me,  O 
 my  God,  to  labour  after  holiness;  to  wrestle  and 
 strive  for  it,  and  never  give  over  until  I  have  attained 
 perfection  in  it.  Then  shall  I  have  perfection  in 
 happiness. 
 
 22.  I  have  had  more  spiritual  comfort  of  late, 
 have  felt  more  of  that  peace  which  the  world  knows 
 not  of,  than  for  a  long  time.  Though  I  desire  to 
 wait  patiently  all  the  days  of  my  appointed  time  till 
 my  change  come,  yet  the  prospect  of  one  day  loving, 
 and  serving,  and  glorifying  my  God  perfectly,  is  in¬ 
 expressibly  consoling.  Oh,  shall  I  see  him  as  he  is  ? 
 Shall  I  love  him  as  I  ought  ?  Shall  I  glorify  him 
 to  the  full  extent  of  my  power  ?  Then  let  me  be¬ 
 gin  the  work  now.  Let  the  holy  flame  of  love  kindle 
 in  my  soul  a  godly  zeal  to  all  duty,  and  against  all 
 sin.  If  I  cannot  be  perfect  here,  let  it  be  my  con¬ 
 stant  desire  and  effort  to  press  forward  toward  per¬ 
 fection.  I  have  had  a  pleasant  day.  I  think  I  do 
 esteem  the  Sabbath  the  best  and  sweetest  of  all 
 days. 
 
371 
 
 TO  MRS.  L.  OF  N.  H. 
 
 Boston ,  July  24,  1821. 
 
 I  have  been  waiting,  with  great  impatience,  to 
 hear  something  further  of  the  state  of  our  dear  E. 
 How  gladly  would  I  see  her.  How  much  it  would 
 contribute  to  my  happiness,  could  I  be  permitted  to 
 lend  my  aid  to  the  dear  sufferer;  to  sit  by  her  pillow, 
 and  whisper  to  her  the  consolations  of  the  gospel — 
 consolations  which,  blessed  be  God,  I  trust,  in  all 
 their  immeasurable  length,  and  breadth,  and  depth, 
 and  height,  belong  to  her  !  But  this  is  denied  me. 
 The  last  information  I  received  concerning  her  was 
 through  Miss  C.  I  understood  that  she  was  in  a 
 very  happy  state  of  mind.  She  certainly  has  been 
 a  sufferer,  early  inured  to  sorrow.  I  scarcely  can 
 refrain  from  tears,  when  I  reflect  how  early  and  how 
 constantly  her  path  was,  and  has  continued  to  be, 
 marked  with  affliction.  But  if  these  trials  have  been 
 the  means  of  inducing  her  to  set  her  face  towards 
 Zion,  why  should  the  remembrance  of  them  pain  me ! 
 God  loves  all  his  children  with  an  infinite  and  un¬ 
 changeable  love.  Surely,  then,  all  the  varieties  of 
 their  existence  and  circumstances  are  the  appoint¬ 
 ments  of  that  love.  All  things,  therefore,  shall 
 work  together  for  their  good. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  A. 
 
 I 
 
 Boston ,  July  31,  1821. 
 
 I  have  just  finished  the  Life  of  Samuel  J.  Mills. 
 He  was  a  rich  blessing  to  the  world.  His  disinter- 
 
372 
 
 estedness  and  self-denial,  his  liberal  plans  and  effi¬ 
 cient  exertions,  quite  put  common  Christians  to  the 
 blush.  The  longer  I  live,  however,  the  more  I  am 
 convinced  that  we  are  made  to  do  good  in  different 
 ways.  And  every  one’s  great  wisdom  lies  in  being 
 able  to  determine  correctly  what  he  is  made  for,  and 
 to  press  toward  the  highest  attainments  in  that  pre¬ 
 cise  way.  But  though  all  were  not  made  for  Mis¬ 
 sionaries,  all  are  required  to  feel  such  a  degree  of 
 interest  in  the  salvation  of  men,  as  to  be  disposed  to 
 do  what  they  can  to  promote  it. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  A. 
 
 Boston ,  August  1,  1821. 
 
 The  day  your  good  husband  called  on  me  was  a 
 very  trying  one.  A  day  when  it  became  necessary 
 for  me  to  displace  and  look  over  many  things,  left  by 
 the  hand  of  him  whom  a  righteous  God  has  taken 
 from  me,  and  which  I  could  have  wished  might  never 
 have  been  moved,  while  1  lived,  from  the  places 
 which  he  had  given  them.  I  do  not  know  that  the 
 sense  of  sorrow  occasioned  by  that  dispensation  was 
 ever  greater  than  on  that  day.  And  since,  I  have 
 had  moments,  in  removing,  and  when  I  first  found 
 myself  alone  in  my  new  habitation,  of  almost  insup¬ 
 portable  sorrow. 
 
 Do  not  think,  however,  that  I  am  habitually 
 gloomy  and  unhappy.  No :  through  the  grace  ol 
 God  I  am  enabled  to  say,  c<  Worlds  would  not  tempt 
 me  to  recall  my  dearly-beloved  husband  to  the  toils 
 and  troubles  of  mortality.  He  has  gone.  I  feel 
 the  stroke  which  leaves  my  heart  to  bleed.  But 
 
3?S 
 
 who  am  I,  to  complain  of  the  hand  which  has  inflicted 
 it?  Could  I  feel  more  of  his  presence,  who,  after 
 all,  is  the  only  Fountain  of  blessedness — could  I  ex¬ 
 perience  that  entire  satisfaction  in  him  alone,  that 
 exclusive  love  to  him,  which  shuts  out  all  inferior 
 desires,  which  I  humbly  hope  I  have  experienced  in 
 times  past, — what  more  could  I  want  ? 
 
 My  dear  E.  the  principal  reason  why  we  have  no 
 more  spiritual  enjoyment  is,  that  we  do  not  wholly 
 renounce  all  expectations  of  happiness  from  the  world. 
 Look  at  Brainerd,  and  Martyn,  and  others  of  a  simi¬ 
 lar  spirit;  how  much  they  experienced  of  religious 
 enjoyment.  W e  read  their  history,  and  regard  them 
 as  phenomena  in  the  moral  world,  and  hardly  think 
 of  trying  to  imitate  them  !  But  why  may  we  not 
 imitate  them  ?  Were  they  not  of  like  passions  with 
 ourselves  ?  Was  not  the  world  the  same  to  them 
 that  it  is  to  us  ?  Oh  for  that  inextinguishable  thirst 
 after  conformity  to  God  as  our  chief  good,  which  will 
 lead  us  to  be  satisfied  with  nothing  short  of  it,  which 
 will  enable  us  to  oppose  a  resolute  and  effectual  resis¬ 
 tance  to  the  temptations  of  a  flattering  and  deceiving 
 world ! 
 
 August  5.  I  heard  an  interesting  sermon  to-day, 
 in  which  the  preacher  spoke  much  of  the  believer’s 
 future  glory;  the  crowns,  and  diadems,  and  splen¬ 
 dours,  and  honours  of  heaven.  I  felt  as  if  heaven 
 were  not  so  much  an  object  of  desire  to  me  on  these 
 accounts ;  and  that  honours  and  crowns  would  ill  be¬ 
 come  so  vile  a  rebel  as  I  am.  But  the  prospect  of 
 perfect  holiness ,  and  conformity  to  God! — this,  oh 
 this  is  heaven  !  It  seems  to  me  but  little  matter 
 
374 
 
 what  place  I  have,  if  God  choose  it,  though  it  be 
 but  that  of  a  door-keeper  in  his  house.  That  will 
 be  the  happiest  place  for  me  which  is  assigned  me 
 by  my  blessed  Lord.  If  I  may  behold  his  glory, 
 and  do  his  will,  and  grow  in  his  likeness,  I  would  be 
 anxious  respecting  nothing  else. 
 
 This  has  been  a  good  day  to  me.  I  think  I  had 
 some  communion  with  my  risen  and  glorified  Saviour 
 at  his  table.  His  example  looks  most  lovely.  I 
 thought  to-day,  that  I  had  never  mourned  for  the 
 sins  of  God’s  dear  people,  because  they  dishonour  the 
 precious  name  of  Christ ,  as  I  ought.  Oh,  to  long, 
 and  labour,  and  pray,  for  my  own  sanctification,  and 
 that  of  others,  that  my  Saviour  may  be  glorified  ! 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  A. 
 
 Bridgewater,  August  20,  1821. 
 
 You  have  often,  my  dear  Mrs. - ,  been  pre¬ 
 
 sent  to  my  thoughts  of  late,  especially  at  the  time  of 
 my  removal  from  my  late  beloved  habitation ;  and  I 
 was  strengthened  and  comforted  by  the  remembrance 
 of  the  comfort  wherewith  you  were  comforted  of  God, 
 under  similar  circumstances.  I  cannot  say  that  I 
 experienced  those  clear  and  supporting  manifestations 
 of  my  Saviour’s  presence  under  that  trial  which  you 
 did,  and  which  I  humbly  trust  I  have  done  before. 
 My  mind  seemed  so  crowded  with  cares  concerning 
 the  present,  and  overwhelmed  with  recollections  of 
 the  past,  that  it  was  hardly  capable  of  any  connected 
 and  rational  reflections.  Yet  when  I  felt  myself  in 
 a  degree  settled,  I  think  my  heart  was  enabled,  in 
 some  humble  measure,  to  return  unto  its  rest.  I 
 
375 
 
 think  I  felt  that,  instead  of  murmuring  at  the  removal 
 of  comforts  once  enjoyed,  I  could  bless  God  for  those 
 which  he  had  continued. 
 
 66  He  that  dwelleth  in  the  secret  places  of  the 
 Most  High,  shall  abide  under  the  shadow  of  the 
 Almighty.”  There  is  more  happiness  described  in 
 this  single  passage  of  Scripture,  than  I  can  form  an 
 idea  of  by  accumulating  all  the  combinations  of  feli¬ 
 city,  drawn  from  mere  earthly  sources,  which  can  be 
 expressed  or  imagined.  And  yet,  strange  as  it  is, 
 I  am  continually  prone  to  cheat  my  soul  out  of  the 
 blessedness  which  it  might  derive  from  the  fountain 
 of  life  and  comfort,  by  wandering  away  to  the  broken 
 cisterns,  which  my  reason  and  conscience  are  con¬ 
 vinced  can  never  satisfy.  Depravity  this  which  may 
 well  be  considered  desperate ;  that,  with  the  most 
 certain  and  unquestionable  evidence,  derived  from  ex¬ 
 perience,  of  the  unmingled  felicity  which  attends  a 
 life  of  communion  with  God — felicity  which,  though 
 fully  satisfying,  can  never  satiate  the  soul — we  are 
 still  so  ready  to  embrace  every  vanity,  calculated  to 
 lead  us  from  God,  which  an  alluring  world,  and  a 
 subtle  adversary,  can  hold  out  to  us  ! 
 
 My  experience  the  first  year  after  my  beloved 
 husband’s  death,  was  comfort .  My  sins  seemed  laid 
 asleep;  and  I  thought  the  stroke  which  had  sundered 
 me  from  the  chief  source  of  my  temporal  enjoyment, 
 had  also  stamped  upon  the  world  an  impression  oi 
 uncertainty,  and  vanity,  and  tastelessness,  which 
 could  never  be  effaced.  But,  alas !  I  now  feel  that  my 
 present  duty,  as  well  as  experience,  is  conflict .  I  find 
 it  to  be  unspeakably  difficult  to  keep  my  affections 
 with  that  steadiness  of  determination,  that  engaged- 
 
376 
 
 ness  and  fervour  of  spirit,  and  that  fixedness  of  eye, 
 upon  the  things  which  are  not  seen  and  eternal, 
 which  become  me,  which  God  requires,  and  which 
 will  make  me  happy  indeed. 
 
 TO  MRS.  W.  OF  BOSTON. 
 
 Bridgewater ,  August  22,  1821. 
 
 My  time  since  I  have  been  here  has  passed  quite 
 as  pleasantly  as  I  expected.  I  usually  feel  best  at 
 home,  however.  And  just  now,  the  approach  of  that* 
 solemn  anniversary*  which  must  ever  bring  with  it 
 recollections  most  affecting  and  interesting,  under 
 circumstances  so  like  those  in  which  I  was  placed  two 
 years  ago,  cannot  fail  to  cast  over  my  mind  a  shade 
 of  sadness  which  I  find  it  difficult  to  remove.  I  have 
 passed  some  moments  of  inexpressible  sorrow  since  I 
 left  you,  though  their  continuance  was  short ;  sorrow 
 like  that  when  my  soul  was  fainting  under  the  an¬ 
 ticipation  of  a  stroke  which  I  could  never  steadily 
 contemplate  till  its  actual  infliction ;  a  stroke,  the  ef¬ 
 fects  of  which  must  be  felt  while  I  live.  But  the 
 Lord  inflicted  it.  This  quiets  me.  And  shall  not 
 the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  do  right  ?  Yes.  He 
 gave,  and  I  bless  him  for  it.  He  took  away,  and  I 
 still  bless  him.  He  hath  done  all  things  well.  He 
 is  good  giving,  good  withholding,  good  taking  away; 
 and  I  would  trust  him  for  ever. 
 
 But  when  I  reflect  upon  my  dreadful  misimprove- 
 ment  of  a  dispensation,  so  eminently  calculated  to 
 rouse  me  up  to  spirituality  and  entire  consecration 
 
 *  Of  the  death  of  her  husband. 
 
of  soul  to  God,  to  a  sincere  renunciation  of  a  world 
 which  had  been  proved  so  unfaithful,  and  to  an  ac¬ 
 tive  and  diligent  performance  of  duty,  I  wonder  at 
 myself.  What  can  I  expect  but  repeated  sorrow, 
 till  I  shall  learn,  what  I  find  it  so  hard,  so  unspeak¬ 
 ably  hard  to  learn — to  live  to  God  alone  ?  But  I 
 do  hope  this  is  my  desire.  I  do  hope  I  am  willing 
 to  suffer,  if  I  may  be  purified  and  made  fit  for  the 
 Master’s  use. 
 
 Let  us,  my  sister,  dread  nothing  but  a  separation 
 from  Him  whom  I  trust  our  souls  love.  Let  us  fear 
 nothing,  but  that  He  should  “  let  us  alone.”  Let 
 us  determine  to  rest  in  nothing  but  Him.  Some¬ 
 times  I  feel  that  the  day  is  far  spent,  and  the  night 
 at  hand;  and  that  what  I  have  to  do,  I  must  do 
 quickly.  But,  at  other  times,  I  find  myself  forming 
 plans,  and  indulging  in  dreams,  of  earthly  happiness. 
 Delusive  hope  ! 
 
 I  think,  my  dear  friend,  that  our  declensions 
 always  begin  in  the  closet.  Those  moments  of  holy 
 communion  with  God,  which  we  sometimes  enjoy, 
 have  a  sanctifying  influence  on  all  the  concerns  and 
 duties  in  which  we  are  engaged.  But  if  the  seasons 
 which  we  set  apart  for  secret  prayer  are  trifled  away, 
 with  frivolous  and  vain  thoughts  and  desires,  or  if 
 they  are  seasons  of  weariness,  when  the  mind  spends 
 all  its  strength,  perhaps,  in  labouring  to  feel,  they 
 will  do  us  little  good.  Not  that  they  should  be 
 omitted.  Oh  no  !  But  God  forbid  that  we  should 
 be  satisfied  in  such  a  state.  God  forbid  that  we 
 should  ever  live  contentedly  at  such  a  distance  from 
 him,  as  will  make  our  prayers  “  a  burden  and  a 
 task.” 
 
378 
 
 How  is  your  good  husband?  I  trust  the  Lord 
 has  much  for  him  to  do  in  Boston.  Trials  he  will 
 have.  They  will  do  him  good.  They  will  give  him 
 more  singleness  of  heart  toward  God;  and  this  is 
 worth  suffering  for.  Oh  that  he  may  enter  into  the 
 labours  of  his  beloved  predecessor;  water  what  he 
 planted,  and  gather  what  he  sowed;  and  when  the 
 Chief  Shepherd  shall  appear,  may  they  appear  with 
 him,  and  rejoice  together  over  their  mutual  work  ! 
 
 TO  ANOTHER  FRIEND  IN  BOSTON. 
 
 Bridgewater ,  August  22,  1821. 
 
 I  was  unable  to  see  you  during  your  illness.  I 
 
 called  at  Mrs. - ’s  while  you  were  confined  to 
 
 your  room,  with  the  intention  of  extending  my  visit 
 to  your  house ;  but,  learning  from  her  how  sick  you 
 were,  and  presuming  that  I  could  render  you  no 
 service,  I  gave  up  the  idea.  But  though  I  have 
 not  seen  you,  I  did  not  forget,  or  cease  to  love  you. 
 And  it  was  with  unfeigned  satisfaction  that  I  heard, 
 
 from  Mr. - ,  of  the  serenity  of  your  mind  in 
 
 your  then  dangerous  circumstances.  Your  hope  of 
 final  salvation  has,  I  trust,  acquired  a  consistency 
 and  stability,  from  this  recent  trial  of  your  faith, 
 which  compensates  you  for  all  that  you  suffered. 
 
 The  Christian,  in  this  world,  is  an  unapt  scholar. 
 God  has  undertaken  to  prepare  him  for  heaven. 
 He  has  determined  that  this  shall  be  done.  But 
 there  is  almost  every  thing  in  the  way  to  hinder  and 
 oppose  the  accomplishment  of  this  benevolent  pur¬ 
 pose  of  the  blessed  God.  Within,  a  nature  wholly 
 and  inveterately  inclined  to  evil;  and  without,  every 
 
379 
 
 thing  calculated  to  operate  powerfully  and  success¬ 
 fully  on  the  depravity  of  his  nature.  Alas  !  how 
 could  he  get  forward,  did  not  the  promise  of  God 
 secure  to  him  his  sanctification  as  well  as  his  justifi¬ 
 cation  ?  This,  blessed  be  God !  it  does.  t£  The 
 Lord  thy  God  will  circumcise  thine  heart,  to  love 
 the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thine  heart,  and  with  all 
 thy  soul,  that  thou  mayest  live/’  But  this  promise 
 must  be  fulfilled  by  the  instrumentality  of  means. 
 And  O  how  kindly,  how  mercifully,  how  patiently, 
 does  our  Almighty  Redeemer  chasten,  and  reprove, 
 and  refine,  and  purify  his  children  !  Sometimes  he 
 pours  upon  them  the  temporal  blessings  of  his  pro¬ 
 vidence.  But  if  this  turn  away  their  affections  from 
 himself,  he  visits  their  transgression  with  the  rod, 
 and  their  iniquity  with  stripes;  nevertheless,  his  lov¬ 
 ing-kindness  he  does  not  utterly  take  from  them,  nor 
 suffer  his  faithfulness  to  fail.  Every  stripe  is  in¬ 
 tended  to  imbitter  to  them  that  sin  which  he  hates, 
 that  sin  which  cleaves  to  his  children  while  they  live, 
 and  that  sin  which  he  is  determined  to  destroy.  And 
 shall  we  not  trust  our  whole  souls  with  this  blessed 
 Being?  Shall  we  not  be  willing  that  He  should 
 manage  our  concerns  in  his  own  way,  if  he  will  but 
 make  us  like  himself,  and  prepare  us  for  himself?  O 
 yes,  yes  ! 
 
 Two  things  we  ought  especially  to  be  anxious  to 
 learn  under  our  trials  :  an  humble,  penitent,  broken¬ 
 hearted  conviction  of  our  sinfulness  and  unworthi¬ 
 ness  ;  and  a  filial,  practical,  quickening  sense  of  the 
 unspeakable  goodness  and  love  of  God,  and  of  our 
 obligations  to  he  entirely  and  eternally  his.  Surely 
 motives  are  not  wanting,  to  rouse  us  up  to  unre- 
 
380 
 
 mitted  diligence  in  the  service  of  Him  who  hath  called 
 us  to  his  kingdom  and  glory. 
 
 September  1.  The  hand  of  the  Lord  has  again 
 touched  me.  On  the  twenty-fifth  of  last  month  I 
 was  called  home  to  receive  the  last  parting  sigh  of 
 my  dearly-beloved  Joshua.  Thus  the  fond  and 
 cherished  babe  left  me  at  a  moment’s  warning.  It 
 fell  upon  me  like  a  thunderbolt.  But  my  mind  is 
 comforted  now.  My  child,  my  lamb,  is  in  heaven. 
 He  has  gone  to  the  Saviour,  who  said,  “  Father,  I 
 will  that  those  whom  thou  hast  given  me  be  with 
 me  where  I  am.”  Amen.  Lord,  help  those  that 
 remain  to  follow  ! 
 
 Evening.  I  go  about  from  one  room  to  another, 
 but  the  places  and  things  which  once  knew  him, 
 know  him  no  more.  I  find  not  the  object  I  seem 
 to  be  seeking.  My  tears  flow ;  my  heart  is  full ;  I 
 feel  almost  as  if  there  were  no  sorrow  like  my  sorrow. 
 My  mind  does  not  leave  every  thing  here,  and  fasten 
 itself  on  heaven,  as  it  did  when  my  dear  husband 
 died.  I  am  not  comfortless;  but  I  have  not  the 
 ‘e  strong  consolation”  which  I  then  had.  It  seems 
 as  if  Joseph  were  not,  and  Benjamin  were  not.  But 
 oh,  let  me  not  undervalue  my  remaining  mercies — 
 my  pleasant  children,  my  thousand,  my  unnumbered 
 blessings  ! 
 
 8.  I  live,  though  death  has  smitten  another  of 
 my  number.  Elizabeth  was  taken  from  all  her  sor¬ 
 rows  and  her  sufferings,  eleven  days  after  my  sweet 
 babe.  I  have  no  doubt  that  both  these  little  ones 
 are  in  heaven.  They  were  given  to  God  ;  and  they 
 are  not,  because  he  has  taken  them.  As  it  respects 
 
381 
 
 Elizabeth,  I  can  see  that  the  dispensation,  which  re¬ 
 leased  her  from  a  body  of  disease  and  death,  which 
 confined  and  cramped  all  the  efforts  of  the  soul,  and 
 set  the  spirit  free,  to  unfold  and  expand  in  the  ser¬ 
 vice  of  God,  is  a  wise  and  merciful  dispensation. 
 
 TO  HER  ELDEST  DAUGHTER  IN  BOSTON. 
 
 Andover ,  September  20,  1821. 
 
 My  beloved  child, — I  rejoice  in  your  return.* 
 I  thank  God,  who  has  once  more  brought  us  so 
 near  each  other,  and  given  us  the  prospect  of  again 
 meeting  on  this  side  the  grave.  Boston  must  look 
 sad  and  solemn  to  you,  my  dear.  All  gone;  not 
 even  the  house  of  your  father  to  go  to.  But  there 
 is  a  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
 heavens.  There  is  your  heavenly  Father,  and  he 
 is  inviting  your  returning  footsteps  thither.  There 
 is  your  Saviour,  who  has  gone  to  prepare  a  place  for 
 ijou,  if  you  will  accept  one.  Come  then,  my  dear 
 child :  you  have  early  seen  the  treachery  of  earthly 
 prospects;  you  have  seen  a  father  cut  down  in  the 
 high  noon  of  his  usefulness ;  you  have  seen  the  sweet, 
 the  promising  little  scion  which  sprung  up  from  the 
 parent  root,  instantly  withered  in  all  its  beauty;  you 
 have  seen  that  all  on  earth  is  change.  Come  then, 
 my  child,  and  secure  a  better,  even  an  enduring  in¬ 
 heritance.  There  is  a  Friend  who  will  never  forsake 
 you,  a  happy  home  which  can  never  be  taken  from 
 you.  There,  the  inhabitants  shall  no  more  say,  {  I 
 am  sick.’  There,  there  will  be  no  more  sorrow,  nor 
 
 *  From  a  visit  of  some  months  at  New  London,  Conn. 
 
382 
 
 sighing,  nor  parting  from  friends ;  but  from  the  eyes 
 of  all  that  blessed  family,  God  will  wipe  away  all 
 tears  for  ever.  There  you  shall  meet  the  father  who 
 loved,  and  cherished,  and  prayed  for  you ;  and  there 
 the  brother  and  sister  whose  former  places  on  earth 
 will  know  them  no  more.  Unless  you  become  a 
 Christian,  you  bade  them  a  long,  a  last  farewell.  My 
 eyes  fill  with  tears,  my  heart  aches,  at  the  thought 
 that  it  is  possible.  Oh  my  children,  my  beloved 
 children,  let  me  not  be  disappointed  in  this  one  hope 
 — that,  having  been  separated  on  earth,  we  may  dwell 
 together  for  ever  in  heaven  ! 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  November  6,  1821. 
 
 You  wish  to  he  informed  more  particularly  of  the 
 circumstances  of  my  sweet  Joshua’s  death.  When 
 I  left  him  on  Saturday,  he  appeared  as  well  as  usual. 
 The  heat  of  the  weather  had  made  him  rather  thin 
 and  pale ;  but  he  was  not  otherwise  unwell.  He 
 continued  well  till  Wednesday  morning,  when  he 
 was  seized  with  a  diarrhoea.  This  continued,  some¬ 
 times  apparently  abating,  till  Friday  morning,  when 
 it  became  apparent  that  his  disease  was  the  dysen¬ 
 tery.  The  doctor  came  to  see  him;  and  advised 
 his  removal  to  Mr.  W.’s,  where  he  could  have  all 
 my  friends  near  him.  I  think  he  must  have  fallen 
 away  greatly  on  Friday  night,  as  the  doctor  did  not 
 speak  of  him  as  in  a  dangerous  state  at  the  time  of 
 the  visit  just  alluded  to.  On  Saturday  morning  the 
 little  sufferer  was  accordingly  removed,  for  ever  re¬ 
 moved.  After  he  arrived  at  Mr.  W.’s,  he  was,  by 
 
383 
 
 the  direction  of  the  physician,  put  into  a  warm  bath. 
 But  no  one  seemed  to  be  aware  of  his  real  situation. 
 Early  on  Saturday  morning  I  was  sent  for,  and  ar¬ 
 rived  at  about  half-past  one  o’clock  in  the  afternoon. 
 Light  of  heart,  I  sprang  out  of  the  carriage  to  in¬ 
 quire  for  my  child ;  for  I  had  been  told  that  he  was 
 not  very  sick,  and  his  being  at  Mr.  W.’s  confirmed 
 me  in  the  opinion.  Mrs.  W.  told  me  that  he  was 
 now  very  sick.  Still,  however,  my  infatuation  pre¬ 
 vailed.  I  thought  he  could  not  be  very  sick,  and  be 
 there.  Judge  then  of  my  agony,  when  I  entered 
 the  chamber,  and  saw  my  child,  the  darling  of  my 
 soul,  not  as  I  left  him,  but  engaged  in  his  last  con¬ 
 flict.  I  instantly  recognized  the  hand  of  death,  for 
 I  had  seen  it  too  often  to  be  mistaken.  Never  shall 
 I  forget  that  look.  Changed  he  was,  but  beautiful. 
 There  was  a  composed  look,  of  meek  and  patient 
 suffering;  he  looked  as  if  he  had  quieted  himself  to 
 die.  His  little  eyes  were  already  fixed.  He  did  not 
 know  me.  Oh,  what  a  moment !  About  an  hour 
 and  a  half  after  this,  the  last  struggle  commenced. 
 I  took  him  in  my  arms ;  and  in  a  few  minutes,  he 
 breathed  his  last  sigh,  as  sweetly  as  ever  a  spirit  dis¬ 
 encumbered  itself  of  its  earthly  habitation ;  and,  be¬ 
 fore  I  knew  it,  he  was  in  heaven. 
 
 The  greatest  shock  was  the  first.  But  my  mind 
 was  unsettled  all  that  and  the  next  day.  I  hardly 
 knew  where  or  what  I  was ;  so  little  sensible  had  I 
 been  how  this  darling  babe  had  entwined  himself 
 about  every  fibre  of  my  heart.  On  Monday,  how¬ 
 ever,  I  was  relieved  and  comforted.  But  that  was 
 one  of  the  most  solemn  weeks  of  my  life.  The 
 strong  and  intense  excitements  of  it  were  almost  too 
 
 o 
 
384 
 
 much  for  my  feeble  frame :  so  that  when  Elizabeth 
 was  taken  sick,  which  was  on  the  next  Sabbath,  I 
 sunk  at  once.  She  was  soon  released  from  all 
 her  sorrows.  And  I  live  to  tell  the  tale.  Who 
 knows  how  much  he  is  capable  of  enduring  ?  I  have 
 since  spent  a  few  weeks  at  Andover,  and  am  now 
 quite  well. 
 
 Sister  Mary’s  health  is  exceedingly  delicate.  Her 
 situation  is,  in  my  opinion,  very  critical.  With  un¬ 
 wearied  care,  she  may  live  some  years ;  or  she  may 
 soon  be  taken  from  us. 
 
 Our  family,  my  beloved  sister,  seems  to  be  dis¬ 
 solving.  God  smote  the  head  when  he  called  your 
 and  my  dear  father,  (for  I  loved  him  as  a  father,) 
 and  the  shock  seemed  to  extend  itself  to  the  branches, 
 one  after  another  of  which  has,  since  that  time, 
 withered  and  fallen.  But  how  sweet  to  be  permitted 
 to  believe,  that,  of  all  the  dear  number  removed, 
 not  one  is  lost !  All  safe,  safe  for  ever.  God  grant 
 that  we  may  meet  them  there,  where  there  is  no 
 more  death. 
 
 TO  MRS.  H.  OF  BRIDGEWATER. 
 
 Boston ,  November  28,  1821. 
 
 God  h  as  seen  fit  to  afflict  you,  my  dear  M.  often 
 and  severely.  But  you  have  already  had  abundant 
 experience  of  the  benefit  of  affliction.  And  though 
 I  do  hope  that  this  sickness  will  not  be  unto  death, 
 at  least  not  for  many  years  to  come,  I  also  hope  that 
 you  are  resigning  yourself  sweetly  into  the  hands  of 
 your  faithful  covenant  God,  and  experiencing  the 
 preciousness  of  the  promise,  66  I  will  never  leave  nor 
 
385 
 
 forsake  thee.’’  It  is  a  solemn  thing  to  look  steadily 
 at  death.  He  is  an  enemy  whom  we  all  are  prone 
 to  place,  in  our  conception,  at  a  distance,  before  we 
 are  willing  to  contemplate  him.  And  with  some  of 
 us  the  fear  of  death  is  so  strong  a  constitutional  in¬ 
 firmity,  that  we  are  sometimes  apprehensive  that  we 
 shall  dishonour  our  Saviour  in  our  last  trial.  But 
 even  death  is  a  conquered  foe.  When  the  Son  of 
 God  finished  the  work  of  redemption,  he  conquered 
 all  the  enemies  of  our  souls,  (if  we  are  his,)  and  laid 
 up  for  us,  in  himself,  sure  and  adequate  supplies  for 
 all  our  necessities.  The  cross  of  Christ  is  the  certain 
 pledge  of  the  Christian’s  final  victory.  Our  Lord 
 is  Lord  and  King  of  death  and  the  grave.  Faint 
 they  may;  despond  they  may;  yet  in  the  mount  of 
 difficulty  shall  the  Lord  be  seen,  and  command  de¬ 
 liverance  for  his  people.  They  shall  not  utterly 
 fall;  and  even  their  misgivings  and  their  fears  shall 
 abound  to  the  glory  of  His  grace,  who  66  giveth 
 power  to  the  faint,  and  to  them  that  have  no  might, 
 increaseth  strength.” 
 
 Trust  yourself  then,  my  sister,  with  the  kind 
 Father  who  hath  borne  you  thus  far  through  the 
 wilderness  on  his  faithful  arm.  Trust  yourself  with 
 the  dear  Redeemer,  who  loved  you  unto  death,  and 
 who  has  gone  to  heaven  to  prepare  a  place  for  you. 
 Trust  yourself  with  that  good  Spirit,  who  has  been 
 carrying  on  your  sanctification,  in  order  to  your  pre¬ 
 paration  for  heaven,  these  many  years,  though  you 
 have  grieved  him  so  often.  Trust  yourself  with 
 Jehovah — Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  who  keep- 
 eth  covenant  for  ever  and  ever.  Keep  hold  of  the 
 cross  of  Christ.  None  ever  perished  there.  Thence 
 
 R  41 
 
386 
 
 draw  all  your  hope  of  pardon  and  of  victory.  Though 
 your  sins  may  look  very  great,  and  your  meetness  for 
 heaven  very  uncertain,  yet  never  forsake  the  cross. 
 The  blood  of  Christ  cleanseth  from  all  sin ;  and  He 
 that  hath  begun  a  good  work  in  you  will  perform  it 
 unto  the  day  of  Jesus  Christ. 
 
 December  9.  The  situation  in  which  I  am  placed, 
 
 I  sometimes  think  is  unfavourable  to  my  spiritual 
 interests.  Perceiving  one’s  self  an  object  of  interest 
 and  regard  every  where,  and  receiving  constant  at¬ 
 tentions  and  flatteries,  have  a  powerful  tendency  to 
 strengthen  the  natural  vanity  of  the  human  heari 
 But  it  is  the  weakness  and  perverseness  of  my  heart 
 of  which  I  have  most  reason  to  complain.  I  am  not 
 strong  to  resist.  I  love  the  tenderness  and  kind¬ 
 nesses  of  earthly  attachments  too  much.  My  natural 
 disposition  in  this  respect  is  a  snare  tome.  Ihe 
 world  cannot  solicit  me  by  any  of  its  grosser  allure¬ 
 ments  ;  but  the  temptations  it  holds  out  to  me,  under 
 the  forms  of  pure,  refined,  and  elevated  enjoyment, 
 resulting  from  social  connexions,  are  insnaring.  And 
 the  fact  that  it  is  so,  at  times  darkens  all  my  evi¬ 
 dences.  Blessed  Saviour,  enable  me,  practically  and 
 constantly,  to  feel  that  thou  art  the  only  satisfying 
 
 portion.  #  . 
 
 11.  I  have  had  much  sweetness  in  prayer  this 
 
 evening.  I  think  I  did  feel  that  I  renounced  all 
 hopes,  all  desires,  which  could  possibly  make  me 
 less  devotedly  and  entirely  the  Lord’s.  I  would  be 
 wholly  his.  I  am  his  servant.  Let  all  my  future 
 arrangements  be  made  with  a  reference  to  Ins  glory. 
 This  is  what  I  want.  Oh  to  be  swallowed  up  in  the 
 
387 
 
 desire  to  glorify  God  in  his  own  way !  Strengthen 
 me,  Lord,  to  maintain  a  constant  singleness  of  heart 
 towards  thee.  The  promise  in  Ezekiel  xxxvi.  25, 
 26,  27.  was  very  precious  to  me  this  evening ;  espe¬ 
 cially  these  words,  “  From  all  your  filthiness,  and 
 from  all  your  idols,  will  I  cleanse  you.”  Oh,  my 
 blessed  God,  do  so  for  unworthy  me  !  Tear  away 
 every  idol  which  I,  through  the  weakness  of  the 
 flesh,  have  served !  Tear  it  away,  though  every 
 fibre  of  my  soul  is  rent  by  the  separation  ! 
 
 1 5.  I  have  been  much  comforted  of  late,  in  read¬ 
 ing  a  volume  of  Watts’  Sermons  on  66  The  World 
 to  Come.”  It  is,  on  the  whole,  an  excellent  book. 
 His  remarks  on  the  necessity  of  u  an  acquaintance 
 with  Christ,”  and  the  evidences  it  affords  of  piety, 
 presented  me  with  a  somewhat  new  aspect  of  evi¬ 
 dence  in  my  own  soul  in  relation  to  the  subject.  I 
 could  not  but  hope  that  I  was  more  acquainted  with 
 the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  than  with  any  other  being  in 
 the  universe ;  that  I  had  more  intimate  communion, 
 more  delightful  intercourse  with  him;  that  I  wras 
 connected  with  him  by  stronger  interests,  more  entire 
 dependencies,  more  awful  obligations,  more  fervent 
 love,  and  more  habitual  choice.  Is  it  not  so,  oh 
 my  Saviour,  who  knowest  my  struggles,  who  art  ac¬ 
 quainted  with  every  inward  conflict,  every  desire  of 
 my  soul?  Who  gives  me  strength  to  fight,  who 
 supports  me  in  my  trials,  who  holds  up  the  feeble 
 purpose  of  my  heart  toward  God,  who  speaks  light 
 and  life  to  my  soul,  who  is  the  friend,  all-knowing, 
 all- supporting,  of  my  spirit,  but  thee  ?  Can  it  be 
 delusion  ?  Blessed  Jesus,  do  I  not  love  thee  ?  Wert 
 thou  mine — the  God  of  my  life — and  all  created 
 
 R  2 
 
388 
 
 nature  beside  blotted  out  for  ever,  should  I  not  still 
 possess  that  which  is  all  to  me  ? 
 
 16.  I  am  reading,  with  great  delight,  the  “  Me¬ 
 moirs  of  Halyburton,”  which  I  think  one  of  the 
 best  religious  biographies  I  have  seen.  Some  of 
 his  experiences  seem  very  similar  to  what  I  have 
 learned  of  myself;  especially  his  conflicts  with  sin, 
 particularly  in  “  things  innocent  or  lawful  carried  to 
 excess.”  Some  of  them  are  the  result  of  what  I  have 
 thought  amiable  and  praise-worthy — the  strength  of 
 my  social  affections.  But  all  this  only  shows  me 
 what  a  fountain  of  desperate  wickedness  the  human 
 heart  is,  which  can  turn  every  thing  into  an  occasion 
 of  sin.  Let  me  remember,  then,  that  my  sin  is  not 
 in  having  these  affections,  for  the  blessed  God  gave 
 them  to  me,  our  first  parents  had  them  in  innocence ; 
 but  in  the  unruly  and  uncontrollable  indulgence  of 
 them — an  indulgence  which  may  easily  be  known, 
 by  its  rendering  me,  while  it  continues,  satisfied  with 
 earthly  attachments  and  hopes,  lessening  my  spiritu¬ 
 ality,  leading  me  to  desire  something  which  God 
 sees  to  be  not  best  for  me,  and  above  all,  drawing 
 my  heart  from  God  as  my  chief  good. 
 
 But,  after  all  my  wretched  wanderings,  I  humbly 
 believe  I  can  appeal  to  my  blessed  Master,  that  he 
 knows  it  to  be  my  habitual  choice  to  part  cheerfully 
 with  every  thing  which  he  sees  is  inconsistent  with 
 his  glory.  Friends,  health,  life,  property — all  are 
 his.  And  I  would  be  his  for  life,  for  death,  for 
 ever.  Oh,  it  is  sweet  to  be  wholly  his ;  to  abide 
 near  him;  to  behold  his  glory;  to  be  transformed 
 into  his  image  !  What,  oh  what,  can  the  world  offer  ? 
 And  yet,  how  weak  do  I  find  myself  to  resist  its 
 
389 
 
 temptations  !  I  take  my  place,  blessed  Saviour,  at 
 the  foot  of  thy  cross ;  that  cross  which  crucifies  to 
 the  world,  to  sin.  In  thee  I  know  there  is  strength 
 to  conquer. 
 
 TO  MRS.  T.  OF  D. 
 
 Boston ,  December  23,  1821. 
 
 What  a  desert  is  this  world  without  God  !  You 
 and  I,  my  dear  H.  have  been  bereft  of  our  dearest 
 temporal  enjoyments.  It  was  the  Lord  who  did  it. 
 And  what  shall  we  think  of  it  ?  Did  he  inflict  the 
 stroke  to  leave  us  just  like  the  rest  of  the  world  ? 
 God  forbid.  Rather  let  us  choose  to  abide  in  the 
 furnace  till  life  shall  end,  than  be  left  to  take  up  our 
 portion  here.  We  have  found  God  our  rock,  our 
 refuge,  our  strong  deliverer,  our  unfailing  friend; 
 and  that,  when  all  the  men  on  earth,  and  all  the 
 angels  in  heaven,  could  not  help  us,  he  held  us  up ; 
 he  smoothed  for  us  the  pillow  of  agony ;  he  poured 
 oil  and  wine  into  our  wounds.  He  hushed  us  to 
 peace  on  his  own  bosom,  when  the  storm  was  beating 
 heavily  upon  us,  when  refuge  failed,  and  we  said  of 
 every  earthly  thing,  66  Miserable  comforters  are  ye 
 all.”  And  shall  we,  can  we,  now  forsake  him? 
 What !  leave  our  God  after  all  this  ?  No,  no.  Let 
 us  clasp  our  Saviour’s  cross  to  our  bosoms,  and  die 
 rather  than  be  separated  from  it. 
 
 My  heart  aches,  and  my  eyes  fill  with  tears,  at 
 the  thought  of  my  sinful  propensity  to  seek,  in  some 
 earthly  good,  the  happiness  I  know  can  be  found  in 
 God  alone.  This  is  my  sad  case.  But  then  it  is 
 
390 
 
 my  daily  grief  and  trouble  that  it  is  so.  And  I  do 
 humbly  believe  that,  with  my  settled  purpose,  I 
 choose  God  above,  and,  so  far  as  he  sees  best  for  me 
 and  most  for  his  glory,  against  every  thing  beside. 
 
 And  my  dear  H.  the  day  is  coming,  when,  if  we 
 do  love  our  Saviour,  this  feeble,  fluttering  flame 
 shall  give  place  to  the  glowing,  inextinguishable, 
 holy  ardour  of  perfect  love ;  when  we  shall  no  more 
 have  to  mourn  the  unstable  affection,  the  vacillating 
 purpose,  the  heart  easily  insnared  by  the  vexing, 
 impertinent  vanities  of  this  poor  world.  And  what 
 can  earth  offer  in  opposition  to  such  a  prospect  as 
 this  ?  Should  she  bring  all  her  stores,  and  lay  them 
 at  our  feet — one  glance  of  God,  and  they  would 
 vanish  to  nothing.  Is  it  so  ?  What  then  has  God 
 taken  from  us?  A  good,  a  great  good  indeed,  a 
 good  which  we  may  have  thought  almost  necessary 
 to  our  spiritual  progress;  but  a  good,  the  loss  of 
 which  God  can  make  up,  which  he  can  infinitely 
 overbalance,  in  the  communications  he  may  make  to 
 us  of  himself.  This  we  know.  Let  us  then  desire 
 nothing  which  he  sees  it  to  be  most  for  his  glory  to 
 withhold  or  remove.  Let  us  keep  an  eye  steadily 
 fixed  on  the  upper  world.  Let  us  draw  daily,  from 
 the  fulness  in  Christ,  pledged  grace — grace  to  par¬ 
 don,  grace  to  sanctify.  Let  us  go  straight  forward, 
 wherever  our  Master  leads.  Let  us  expect  no  rest, 
 till  we  lay  down  our  sins  and  our  conflicts  together 
 in  the  grave. 
 
 December  23.  This  year  is  nearly  closed,  and  it 
 has  been  an  eventful  year  to  me.  In  the  course  of 
 
391 
 
 it,  one  of  the  tenderest  ties  by  which  I  was  con¬ 
 nected  with  earth  has  been  sundered.  My  Joshua 
 was  smitten.  And  my  heart  bleeds  still.  It  was  a 
 heavy  trial.  But  God  showed  me  that  I  merited 
 and  needed  it,  and  kept  me  from  rebelling,  (blessed 
 be  his  name  !)  so  that  I  gave  up  what  he  so  sud¬ 
 denly  demanded,  without  disputing  his  right  so  to 
 do.  The  shock  was  not  so  great,  however,  as  that 
 occasioned  by  the  death  of  my  husband.  Then  my 
 faculties  seemed  stunned.  I  look  back,  and  per¬ 
 fectly  remember  my  feelings,  and  am  sure  that,  for 
 six  or  eight  months  after  that  event,  my  mental 
 powers  seemed  all  shaken  by  the  blow.  It  was  a 
 different  sort  of  life  from  any  I  had  ever  experi¬ 
 enced.  Afflicted  as  much  as  my  nature  could  bear, 
 on  the  one  hand,  and  comforted  and  stayed  up  by 
 the  Omnipotent  arm,  on  the  other — my  intense 
 exercises  overpowered  my  poor  frame,  and  I  was  like 
 those  who  dream.  But  my  sweet  Joshua’s  death 
 affects  me  with  an  inexpressible  tenderness.  Oh 
 that  its  effects  may  be  lasting !  Beloved  of  my 
 soul !  dear,  cherished,  lamented  child !  May  thy 
 removal  rouse  up  thy  afflicted  mother,  to  more  per¬ 
 severing  and  unwavering  diligence  in  finishing  her 
 work  ! 
 
 January  IT,  1822.  I  spent  the  evening  at  Mr. 
 
 - ’s.  Dear,  affectionate,  kind-hearted  people. 
 
 Never  was  unworthy  woman  connected  with  a  so¬ 
 ciety,  whose  kind  offices  laid  her  under  more  pressing 
 obligations  than  myself.  But,  alas  !  how  little  good 
 I  do  amonff  them  !  I  am  ashamed  and  confounded 
 
 O 
 
 at  the  view  of  my  barrenness  and  unprofitableness. 
 Do  I  love  this  dear  people,  while  I  am  so  neglectful 
 
392 
 
 of  their  best  interests  ?  Oh  that  the  Lord  would 
 cause  me  so  to  feel  for  their  souls,  as  to  lead  me, 
 constantly  and  importunately,  to  the  throne  of  grace 
 in  their  behalf! 
 
 21.  Upon  comparing  myself  with  what  I  was  last 
 year,  I  cannot  but  fear  that  I  am  losing  ground.  It 
 seems,  on  the  whole,  as  if  my  44  heart  is”  more 
 44  divided,”  and  I  am  found,  like  Israel  of  old, 
 46  faulty.”  In  prayer,  I  usually  have  some  nearness 
 of  access  to  God,  often  have  some  sweet  sense  of  my 
 obligations  to  devote  all  to  him,  in  my  poor  measure, 
 as  the  holy  angels  do ;  some  desires  after  this,  and 
 some  meltings  of  soul  for  sin.  But,  alas  !  how  soon 
 a  11  is  gone  !  My  temptations  are  many ;  and  my 
 strength  is  perfect  weakness.  Oh,  world !  world ! 
 world  !  I  am  helpless,  and  feeble,  and  tossed  on  thy 
 dangerous  seas ;  and,  of  myself,  ready,  every  moment, 
 to  make  shipwreck  of  the  faith.  Jesus  save  me,  or 
 I  perish  ! 
 
 I  have  been  reading  our  blessed  Lord’s  valedic¬ 
 tory  address  to  his  disciples,  and  the  text,  44  Every 
 branch  in  me  that  beareth  fruit,  he  purgeth  it,  that 
 it  may  bring  forth  more  fruit,”  struck  me  forcibly. 
 I  felt,  however,  that  I  could  lay  over  my  case  into 
 the  hands  of  the  great  Refiner  with  sweet  satisfaction. 
 Oh  for  strength  to  resist  sin,  that  I  may  not  be  so 
 often  insnared ! 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  M. 
 
 Boston ,  January  2:2,  1822. 
 
 My  dear  Miss - , — -That  propensity,  to  which 
 
 you  allude  in  your  last  letter,  to  dwell  on  the  past 
 
393 
 
 and  look  forward  to  the  future,  may  be  the  occasion 
 of  much  happiness  to  us.  If  properly  controlled  and 
 balanced  by  Christian  principle,  the  retrospect  of 
 former  years  and  former  mercies,  will  awaken  in  our 
 souls  lively  gratitude  to  Him,  who  has  led  us  thus 
 far  through  the  land  of  our  pilgrimage,  and  cheered 
 the  tediousness  of  the  way  by  the  kind  communica¬ 
 tions  of  his  own  grace  and  goodness,  and  will  present 
 us  with  the  strongest  motives  to  a  course  of  unde¬ 
 viating  future  obedience.  Were  our  hearts  right, 
 the  past  would  be  contemplated  with  all  the  fervent 
 emotions  of  gratitude,  and  the  future  with  unmingled 
 desires  of  glorifying  Him,  constantly  and  for  ever, 
 who  has  made  us  to  feel  the  weight  of  such  immense 
 obligations.  But,  alas  !  too  seldom  is  this  the  case. 
 The  mind,  ever  searching  for  aliment  suited  to  the 
 sustenance  of  its  depravity,  is  apt,  in  looking  back¬ 
 ward,  to  seize  on  those  parts  of  our  experience  which 
 have  least  of  God  and  holiness  in  them. 
 
 We  dream  over  the  scenes  which  were  pleasant 
 to  us,  perhaps,  because  our  self-love  was  flattered,  or 
 our  pride  gratified,  our  interests  promoted,  or  our 
 happiness  sought ;  and  we  find  them,  at  this  distance 
 of  time,  still  pleasant,  because  they  awaken  kindred 
 feelings  with  those  we  then  experienced.  Or,  if 
 pride  and  vanity  are  not  distinctly  exercised,  we 
 sometimes  sit  down,  and  brood  over  the  past  with  a 
 sort  of  sickly  sensibility,  which  exhausts  our  mental 
 strength  in  useless  regrets  for  the  friends  or  comforts 
 which  are  no  more,  and  induces  a  passive  indifference 
 concerning  the  present,  utterly  incompatible  with  effi¬ 
 cient  exertion.  When  we  feel  that  this  is  the  case 
 with  us,  however  engaging  such  remembrances  may 
 
 R  3 
 
S94 
 
 be  to  our  disordered  hearts,  we  should  shake  offj  at 
 once,  the  indulgence  of  them. 
 
 I  well  remember  the  time  when  I  dared  not  look 
 at  the  past.  It  was  to  look  at  a  storm  which  had 
 gone  by,  and  which,  though  it  passed  over  without 
 destroying  me,  was  too  fearful  to  be  unnecessarily 
 dwelt  upon.  I  knew  that,  though  the  strength  of 
 the  Almighty  arm  had  upheld  me,  when  under  the 
 immediate  infliction  of  that  awful  stroke,  my  heavenly 
 Father  had  nowhere  promised  me  strength  to  sustain 
 me  under  the  self-inflicted  agonies  of  an  unruly 
 memory.  And  at  that  time,  when  I  dared  not  con¬ 
 template  the  past,  and  could  not  calculate  on  the 
 future,  I  felt  more  than  at  any  other  period  of  my 
 life,  that  to-day  was  all  I  could  call  my  own.  Pre¬ 
 sent  duties  and  present  trials ; — the  one  called  upon 
 me  to  rouse  myself,  this  moment,  from  the  listless¬ 
 ness  produced  by  intense  personal  sufferings,  to  do 
 something,  if  I  had  nothing  to  enjoy ;  and  the  other 
 met  me  as  what  I  did  bear  then,  through  God’s 
 goodness,  and  I  could  trust  him  for  strength  to  bear 
 at  a  future  time,  if  that  future  time  should  find  me 
 a  sufferer  on  the  earth.  It  is  at  a  moment  like  this, 
 that  we  know  the  blessed  efficacy  of  our  holy  reli¬ 
 gion.  There  is  in  the  gospel  that  which  the  Chris¬ 
 tian,  at  such  a  moment,  feels  sustaining  him.  He 
 knows  he  does  not  follow  a  cunningly-devised  fable. 
 And  had  he  a  thousand  souls,  he  would  not  be  afraid 
 to  risk  them  on  the  truth  of  that  gospel. 
 
 You  say,  66  Write  me  a  letter  of  reproof  and  in¬ 
 struction.”  Alas  ?  my  dear  friend,  and  do  you  really 
 consider  me  capable  of  all  this  ?  I  feel  like  a  mere 
 learner  of  the  first  principles  yet,  and  wholly  unfit  to 
 
395 
 
 reprove  and  instruct,  by  reason  of  my  unfaithfulness 
 in  the  practical  application  of  even  those  first  prin- 
 cipl  es.  But  much  as  I  must  be  sensible  of  my  own 
 deficiencies,  I  believe  I  can  say,  in  the  sweet  language 
 of  an  apostle,  fi<  This  I  wish,  even  your  perfection 
 and  were  I  acquainted  with  your  faults  as  intimately 
 as  you  are,  or  had  I  ever  observed  any  thing  which 
 struck  me  as  a  peculiar  defect,  I  love  you  well  enough 
 to  risk  something  in  directing  your  attention  to  it. 
 It  is  very  difficult  for  us  to  judge  of  each  other’s  con¬ 
 stitutional  weaknesses — unless  they  lie  out  on  the 
 surface  of  the  character,  and  consequent  attending 
 temptations. 
 
 Whether  there  be  some  one  besetting  sin  which 
 attends  the  Christian,  and  exhibits  the  same,  or 
 nearly  the  same,  specific  form,  through  the  various 
 stages  and  circumstances  of  his  progress  heavenward, 
 I  know  not.  It  has  appeared  to  me,  however,  that 
 our  most  distressing  conflicts  are  not  always  with  the 
 same  sins,  but  with  different  ones,  which  acquire 
 strength  and  power  by  the  change  of  our  circum¬ 
 stances.  As  self-elation  may  be  our  snare  at  one 
 time,  so  a  gloomy  depreciation  of  our  own  powers 
 may  be  at  another :  and,  as  sometimes  we  are  in  dan¬ 
 ger  of  looking  no  higher  than  earth  for  comfort,  so, 
 at  other  times,  we  may  fretfully  refuse  the  enjoy¬ 
 ment  of  even  those  mercies  which  a  kind  God  in¬ 
 tends  we  should  enjoy,  and  almost  be  in  his  case  who 
 chose  strangling  and  death  rather  than  life.*  An 
 obscure  Christian  could  have  but  little  idea  of  the 
 temptations  another  would  meet  with,  thrown  into  an 
 
 *  Job  vii.  15. 
 
396 
 
 intelligent  circle,  capable  of  estimating  all  that  was 
 commanding,  and  all  that  was  attractive  in  her  char¬ 
 acter,  and  whose  qualifications  would  ensure  her  the 
 respect  and  constant  attentions  of  that  circle.  And 
 though  none  could  envy  the  humble  and  more  retired 
 Christian  her  station,  except  as  it  furnished  a  com¬ 
 parative  exemption  from  a  long  train  of  the  most  fas¬ 
 cinating  temptations,  yet  it  certainly  would  not  involve 
 such  high  responsibilities,  and  draw  in  its  train  such 
 a  fearful  number  of  mischievous  consequences,  in  case 
 of  declension  from  duty,  as  a  higher  one.  But,  I 
 believe,  it  is  our  duty  to  rest  satisfied  that  God  has 
 placed  us  in  the  situation  best  for  us ;  and,  instead 
 of  comparing  its  advantages  and  disadvantages  with 
 those  of  others,  we  should  endeavour  carefully  to  in¬ 
 quire — What  are  the  temptations  to  which  I  am  now 
 most  exposed?  What  facilities  does  my  situation 
 afford  me  for  doing  good  ?  How  can  I  turn  my  pre¬ 
 sent  circumstances  to  the  best  account  ? 
 
 In  all  our  various  situations  in  life,  be  they  what 
 they  may,  self  is  the  grand  hinderance  to  our  going 
 on  unto  perfection.  The  world  flatters,  and  we  love 
 its  flatteries  so  well,  that  we  feed  upon  them,  as 
 Ephraim  “  on  wind,”  till  God  rouses  us  from  our 
 deplorable  delusion,  and  compels  us  to  pronounce 
 them  worthless.  Not  that  piety  is  one  form  of  self- 
 love  ;  and  that  we  embrace  religion  merely  from  a 
 regard  to  our  own  interest.  Self-love,  in  us,  is  a 
 perverted  principle;  it  is  selfishness.  It  seeks  its 
 own  good  too  eagerly,  and  in  a  wrong  way.  So  far 
 as  it  pursues  its  own  happiness,  in  that  way,  and  to 
 that  extent,  which  are  agreeable  to  the  will  of  God, 
 
397 
 
 it  is  innocent  and  lawful.  But  the  proper  end  of  an 
 intelligent  creature’s  existence  is,  to  promote  his  own 
 happiness,  in  loving  and  serving  God.  This  our 
 natural  selfishness  does  not.  And  it  was  to  this 
 principle  I  referred,  when  I  said,  that  it  is  our  hin- 
 derance  in  every  thing  praise-worthy.  But  let  a  soul 
 be  endued  with  the  benevolent  spirit  of  the  gospel, 
 let  it  feel  something  of  that  holy  flame  which  ani¬ 
 mates  the  saints  above,  let  it  be  filled  and  controlled 
 by  desires  to  serve  God  as  they  do — to  do  his  will, 
 and  promote  his  glory  unceasingly,  which  is  the  true 
 end  of  our  being;  and  all  the  fascinations  of  the 
 world  would  be  poured  upon  it  in  vain.  Nothing 
 could  promote  the  happiness  of  such  a  soul,  but  what 
 advanced  the  glory  of  the  blessed  God.  And  it  would 
 find  ways  to  effect  its  object.  It  would  be  seeking 
 the  advancement  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ;  and,  in 
 seeking  it,  would  seek  to  bring  others  into  that  king¬ 
 dom.  May  the  time  come,  speedily  come,  when  you 
 and  I  shall  feel  this  blessed  flame,  as  I  trust  we  desire 
 to  do, — when  we  shall  love  God  with  all  our  hearts, 
 and  serve  him  without  imperfection  ! 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  - . 
 
 Boston ,  January  27,  1822. 
 
 I  utterly  condemn  the  habit  of  unnecessarily 
 alluding  to  the  faults  of  each  other’s  children.  It 
 
 o 
 
 is  a  direct  violation  of  the  law  of  Christian  charity, 
 and  of  the  spirit  of  our  Saviour’s  rule,  46  Do  unto 
 others,”  Sec.  Christians  commit  a  great  deal  of  sin 
 in  this  way.  If  I  have  ever  been  inclined  to  it,  I 
 hope  the  Lord  has  shown  me  something  of  its  de- 
 
398 
 
 merit.  Nor  is  the  sin  of  taking  occasion,  from  the 
 imperfections  of  the  child,  to  pronounce  a  condem¬ 
 natory  judgment  on  the  management  of  the  parent, 
 much  smaller.  If  we  see  defects  in  the  parent  or 
 child,  it  is  right  we  should,  in  the  spirit  of  love,  in¬ 
 form  them  of  it.  But  we  should  never  suffer  our¬ 
 selves  to  speak  of  them  unnecessarily  to  others. 
 
 With  respect  to - ,  I  was  immediately  struck 
 
 with  her  character,  as  exhibiting  features  of  more 
 than  usual  strength,  and  was  pleased  with  her.  In 
 the  plays  of  the  children,  she  contributed  her  full 
 share  of  amusement,  and  was  accommodating.  Our 
 little  folks  were  much  interested  in  her.  I  think  I 
 observed  in  her  also,  in  some  other  things,  a  blunt 
 independence,  a  determined  resolution  to  please  her¬ 
 self,  which  did  not  seem  amiable,  which  had  too 
 much  the  aspect  of  overlooking  and  disregarding  the 
 opinions  of  others.  I  cannot  describe  what  I  mean 
 better,  than  by  saying,  it  was  the  reverse  of  that 
 temper  which  leads  us  to  consider  other  people  s 
 happiness  as  important  as  our  own,  and  to  meet 
 them  half  way  in  their  overtures  of  kindness.  Is  it 
 not  probable  that  this  trait  of  character  has  been 
 strengthened  by  her  visiting  so  much  among  your 
 people  ?  It  appears  to  me,  this  would  be  very  na¬ 
 tural,  even  where  the  constitutional  tendency  this 
 way  is  not  particularly  strong.  W e  all  have  a  great 
 deal  of  self-complacency ;  it  is  a  weed  which  will  grow 
 in  all  hearts,  and  in  all  circumstances.  How  then 
 can  a  weak  and  simple  child  be  expected  to  withstand 
 the  influence  of  indulgence,  and  flattery,  and  praise  ? 
 How  is  it  possible  that  such  dangerous  stimulants 
 can  be  applied,  without  producing  most  dangerous 
 
399 
 
 effects?  Your  people  are,  perhaps,  much  better 
 than  common ;  but  there  must  be  not  only  piety,  but 
 good  sense,  and  considerable  knowledge  of  human 
 nature,  to  place  people  on  their  guard  in  their  inter¬ 
 course  with  those  children  who  are  not  amenable  to 
 them.  I  merely  make  this  supposition,  for  perhaps 
 I  mistake  in  imagining  that  - - has  been  accus¬ 
 
 tomed  to  visit  much  without  her  mother. 
 
 As  to  what  is  the  best  method  of  managing  this 
 evil,  I  certainly  do  not  feel  capable,  my  dear  friend, 
 of  advising  you.  If  my  simple  thoughts,  however, 
 can  be  of  the  least  service  to  you,  I  will  suggest  a 
 few  which  occur  to  me. 
 
 In  the  first  place,  I  should  think  this  disposition 
 would  be  best  managed  by  gentleness  and  kindness. 
 A  proud  spirit  will  not  bear  to  be  driven.  Coercion 
 must  be  resorted  to,  when  other  means  have  failed ; 
 but  a  proud  spirit,  where  there  is  at  the  same  time 
 generosity  and  self-respect,  is  most  easily  subdued 
 by  gentleness.  I  know  many  would  say  otherwise, 
 and  would  call  this  indulgence.  But  the  object  to 
 be  gained  is  not  abject  submission,  at  a  particular 
 time,  when  the  fault  has  been  exhibited — a  smother¬ 
 ing  of  wrong  feeling  from  a  fear  of  showing  it ;  but 
 a  conviction  of  the  intrinsic  evil  of  such  a  temper. 
 And,  certainly,  this  conviction  may  be  best  promoted 
 by  mildness,  and  a  tender  concern,  which  shall  con¬ 
 vince  the  child  of  the  parent’s  love  for  him. 
 
 In  the  second  place,  while  we  are  governed  by 
 the  law  of  kindness,  such  a  temper  should  be  syste¬ 
 matically  frowned  upon.  And  the  habitual  look  of 
 disapprobation,  manifested  by  the  parent,  upon  its 
 first  appearance,  would  do  more,  I  think,  towards 
 
400 
 
 subduing  it,  than  those  punishments  and  privations 
 which  are  sometimes  resorted  to.  When  the  effects 
 of  this  temper  can  be  felt,  the  child  should  be  made 
 to  feel  them.  If  he  is  pained  by  the  dislike  of  a 
 friend  whom  he  has  made  no  effort  to  please,  he  will 
 remember,  the  next  time,  to  be  more  cautious. 
 
 But,  after  all,  those  motives  which  are  drawn 
 from  Christian  principles  will  always  be  found  to  be 
 most  effectual.  Constantly  holding  up  to  the  child 
 the  moral  evil  of  pride,  its  contrariety  to  the  law  of 
 God,  to  the  example  of  Christ,  to  the  love  we  owe 
 to  him,  &c.  with  a  corresponding  temper  on  the  part 
 of  the  parent,  will,  I  believe,  generally  prove  suc¬ 
 cessful. 
 
 February  12.  I  returned  to-day  from  a  visit  of  a 
 week  at  Bridgewater,  where  I  have  been  on  account 
 of  sister  Mary’s  health.  Thanks  be  to  God.  I 
 find  my  dear  family  well.  My  time  at  B.  was 
 mournfully,  but  I  hope  not  unprofitably  spent. 
 Every  thing  seemed  solemn ;  every  thing  reminded 
 me  of  days  gone  by,  and  66  smitten  friends,”  still 
 dear  to  this  aching  heart.  And  sister  is  apparently 
 sinking,  though  gradually,  into  the  grave.  How 
 could  I  but  feel  solemn  and  sad  !  Yet  I  had  some 
 very  precious  seasons  in  prayer,  especially  yesterday, 
 which  was  my  dear  J.’s  birth-day.  I  wished  much 
 to  get  home  to  spend  the  day  with  him,  but  could  not 
 conveniently.  I  had  more  time,  however,  than  usual 
 on  these  occasions,  for  special  prayer,  and  wiis  much 
 assisted.  I  think  I  never  realized  more  the  truth 
 and  excellency  of  the  only  way  of  approaching  to 
 God,  through  the  great  High  Priest,  than  then; 
 
401 
 
 and  never  committed  my  cause  to  his  intercession 
 with  more  unreserved  and  confiding  faith.  I  felt  as 
 if  I  gave  myself  and  my  children,  unreservedly  and 
 unconditionally,  to  God,  to  be  his  servants,  sincerely 
 desiring  that  all  our  circumstances  might  be  ordered 
 with  reference  to  this  end,  as  the  highest  good. 
 Whether  it  be  on  earth  or  in  heaven,  by  prosperity 
 or  adversity,  I  thought  I  could  say,  cheerfully, 
 ((  Amen,  only  let  us  be  thy  servants.”  It  seemed 
 as  if  I  could  not  let  go  my  hold  on  the  covenant  and 
 promise  of  God,  all  secured  and  ratified  by  a  Sa¬ 
 viour’s  finished  work.  And  it  seemed  as  if  that 
 Saviour  received  my  suit,  and  accepted  me  and  my 
 offering,  according  to  his  own  unfathomable  grace ; 
 and  that  all  my  ill  deserts  would  not  prevent  his  con¬ 
 ferring  upon  my  children  the  free  gift  of  eternal  life* 
 This  covenant,  gracious  and  sure,  I  take  as  my  por¬ 
 tion,  and  the  portion  of  my  children,  as  all  my  salva¬ 
 tion,  and  all  my  desire.  Only  let  us  serve  him. 
 Where,  and  how,  I  leave  to  his  wisdom  to  deter¬ 
 mine. 
 
 TO  MRS.  H.  AT  BRIDGEWATER. 
 
 Boston ,  March  1,  1822. 
 
 My  dear  M. — The  wind  is  blowing  a  heavy  gale, 
 and  the  rain,  at  intervals,  beating  violently  against 
 the  windows.  While  the  storm  is  thus  raging 
 abroad,  I  have  been  thinking  how  safe  is  the  Chris¬ 
 tian — how  little  reason  he  has  to  fear  any  thing  but 
 sin  !  If  the  storms  he  encounters  drive  him  forward 
 toward  his  destined  haven,  they  will  not  hurt  him. 
 
402 
 
 The  great  danger  is  of  being  hindered  in  our  pro¬ 
 gress  toward  heaven,  and  turning  back  to  the  shores 
 of  this  world.  Has  our  blessed  Saviour  called  us  to 
 follow  him,  and  have  we  obeyed  the  call?  If  so, 
 He,  the  Captain  of  our  salvation,  constantly  observes 
 and  protects  us ;  condescends  to  notice  and  direct  all 
 circumstances  respecting  us.  And,  whether  the 
 duration  of  the  period  in  which  we  must  be  tossing 
 on  our  passage  heavenward  be  longer  or  shorter,  all 
 will  be  just  as  it  should  be,  because  it  will  be  just  as 
 he  pleases.  Yet  is  he  not  happiest  who  is  nearest 
 home?  My  better  feelings  say,  Yes. 
 
 I  expect  to  go  at  nine,  to  watch  with  Mrs.  E. 
 who  is  very  sick.  You  will  be  awake  some  part  of 
 the  night,  and  I  shall  be  thinking  of  you.  God 
 will  make  all  your  bed  in  your  sickness.  W eari- 
 some  nights  have  been  borne  by  many  of  the  Lord’s 
 people  before  you.  And  he  knows  what  you  can 
 bear.  Adieu. 
 
 TO  THE  SAME. 
 
 Boston ,  March  8,  1822. 
 
 I  feel  my  own  heart  to  be  too  earthly  to  at¬ 
 tempt  adding  any  thing  to  those  motives  to  resigna¬ 
 tion,  the  efficacy  and  preciousness  of  which  you  are 
 taught  so  much  better  by  the  great  Teacher,  than 
 you  could  be  by  any  earthly  friend.  May  He  con¬ 
 tinue  to  put  underneath  you  his  everlasting  arms, 
 to  baptize  you  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  to  purify  you, 
 in  the  “  fountain  filled  with  blood,”  from  every  spot 
 and  stain  of  sin,  that  you  may  be  adorned,  and  pre- 
 
403 
 
 pared  to  go  in  and  sit  down  at  the  marriage-supper 
 of  the  Lamb  !  There  are  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and 
 Jacob,  all  the  excellent  and  worthy  that  have  ever 
 lived  since  the  world  began.  There  are  many  of  the 
 dear  friends  of  our  pilgrimage,  beloved  ones,  whose 
 memory  is  to  us  like  ointment  poured  forth.  There 
 are  gathering  in  all  the  excellent  and  the  worthy 
 who  are  now,  and  who  shall  be,  on  the  earth,  from 
 all  the  generations  of  man,  till  the  end  of  time ; — all 
 brought  to  this  glorious  feast,  and  made  perfectly 
 blessed  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  God  !  What  a 
 company  !  And  there,  above  all  is  the  Saviour,  who 
 hath  loved  us  unto  death,  the  great  High  Priest  and 
 King  of  our  salvation ;  whom  the  Christian  loves, 
 and  who  hath  said,  “  Father,  I  will  that  they  whom 
 thou  hast  given  me  be  with  me  where  I  am,  that 
 they  may  behold  my  glory.” 
 
 March  24.  It  is  my  constant  misery  that  I  do 
 not  love  God  more.  And  I  know,  by  experience, 
 that  it  is  not  in  outward  circumstances,  either  of  one 
 sort  or  another,  but  in  our  own  hearts,  that  we  must 
 find  the  sources  of  our  backslidings.  Sometimes  I 
 think,  that  if  I  had  not  so  many  temptations  from 
 the  world,  I  should  get  along  better.  But  when 
 these  are  absent,  my  common  and  lawful  concerns 
 will,  in  some  way  or  other,  operate  in  the  same  man¬ 
 ner  on  my  sinful  nature.  Thus  it  is  proved  that  all 
 the  evil  is  in  myself.  If  God  should  give  me  all  the 
 blessings  of  this  life,  and  extend  to  me  his  grace, 
 I  should  be  spiritual.  If  he  withheld  that,  though 
 I  imposed  on  myself  all  the  abstinences  and  aus¬ 
 terities  of  Papal  superstition,  I  should  be  a  wretched 
 
404 
 
 worldling.  It  is  to  the  tendencies  of  my  own  de¬ 
 praved  heart  that  I  must  look  for  the  causes  of  my 
 wanderings;  in  their  amendment  alone  can  I  hope 
 for  the  cure  of  my  backslidings.  One  thing  I  know  ; 
 if  God  should  leave  me  one  moment,  I  should  plunge 
 myself  in  irrecoverable  ruin.  His  arm  is  my  only 
 bulwark  against  perdition.  All  the  adequate  causes 
 of  eternal  apostacy  are  within  me.  Can  I  be  saved  ? 
 Jesus,  I  fly  to  thee. 
 
 April  3.  I  have  felt  more  indifference  to  the 
 world  a  few  days  past  than  for  some  time  before, 
 and  a  sweet  feeling  of  desire  and  of  comfort,  when  I 
 think  of  leaving  every  thing  here,  and  going  to  be 
 with  Christ. 
 
 5.  Colquhoun  on  the  Covenant  of  Grace  is,  on 
 the  whole,  one  of  the  best  books  I  have  ever  read. 
 It  clears  away  all  the  sinner’s  common  objections 
 against  the  freeness  of  the  gospel  offer,  and  removes 
 the  discouragements  which  keep  him  from  Christ 
 on  the  ground  of  his  unfitness,  better  than  any  other 
 treatise  I  have  seen.  The  fulness  and  freeness  of 
 the  redemption  purchased  by  Christ  are  most  de¬ 
 lightfully  exhibited;  although  the  writer  seemed  to 
 me  somewhat  shackled,  in  some  parts  of  the  work, 
 by  his  peculiar  views  respecting  the  extent  of  the 
 atonement.  It  has  been  a  delightful  book  to  me, 
 especially  the  part  which  shows  that  sanctification  is 
 secured  by  the  terms  of  the  covenant.  The  way  of 
 obtaining  sanctifying  grace,  through  the  Lord  Jesus 
 Christ,  and  the  certainty  of  obtaining  it,  because  it 
 is  a  purchased  and  promised  blessing  of  the  covenant 
 of  grace,  are  precious  truths.  Oh  to  live  with  the 
 simplicity  of  a  little  child  on  this  well-ordered  and 
 
405 
 
 sure  covenant,  till  that  which  is  perfect  shall  be  re¬ 
 vealed  !  But  grace  will  never  end.  Eternity  will 
 be  for  ever  swelling  the  unfathomable  ocean  of  Je¬ 
 hovah’s  grace.  And  this  seems  very  sweet  to  me. 
 To  be  eternally  indebted  to  God ;  to  love  him  more 
 and  more,  and  be  bound  to  love  him  more  and  more, 
 by  receiving  that  which  will  be  continually  magnifying 
 his  immeasurable  grace,  seems  to  be  what  I  want. 
 I  love  to  have  God  receive  all  the  glory  for  ever  and 
 ever. 
 
 TO  MR.  - —  of - . 
 
 Boston ,  April  8,  1822. 
 
 Dear  Sir, — In  reply  to  the  last  part  of  your  letter, 
 allow  me  to  say,  I  am  afraid  your  opinions,  or  ex¬ 
 pectations,  whichever  you  please,  are  not  perfectly 
 correct.  66  Expect  not  perfection,  but  insist  on  con¬ 
 sistency,”  says  Mrs.  More.  Many  sensible,  accom¬ 
 plished,  elegant,  and  pious  women  may  be  found. 
 But  the  angel  which  your  imagination  has  pictured, 
 and  held  up  to  your  view  as  the  only  object  on  which 
 you  could  place  your  affections,  cannot  be  found. 
 Do  not  think  I  am  trifling.  The  desire  I  feel  for 
 your  happiness,  makes  me  anxious  you  should  form, 
 and  indulge,  only  such  rational  and  just  desires  as 
 may  be  safely  allowed,  in  a  world  where  all  is  neces¬ 
 sarily  imperfect.  Change  of  place  and  situation  in 
 this  world,  can  only  be  change  of  duty  and  trial. 
 Far  am  I  from  believing  that  all  situations  are  equally 
 favourable  for  happiness.  This  would  be  childish. 
 Yet,  if  we  have  not  the  good  sense  and  sound  prin¬ 
 ciple,  which  will  enable  us  to  make  the  best  of  our 
 
406 
 
 present  circumstances,  we  have  no  reason  to  believe 
 we  should  be  happy  in  any.  To  receive  cheerfully 
 and  thankfully  all  the  good  which  Heaven  has  now 
 placed  within  our  reach,  and  to  moderate  our  desires 
 and  expectations  for  to-morrow,  is  true  wisdom.  The 
 great  secret  of  being  happy,  is  to  keep  the  heart  right, 
 as  you  very  well  know.  Where  the  supreme  source 
 of  happiness  is  God,  all  will  go  well.  The  subordi¬ 
 nate  comforts  which  result  from  human  relationships 
 will  be  received  with  thankfulness,  and  their  attending 
 sorrows  endured  without  that  impatience  and  restless¬ 
 ness  of  spirit,  which  is  the  almost  necessary  conse¬ 
 quence  of  disappointment. 
 
 If  it  be  best  for  you,  I  hope  your  Father  in  hea¬ 
 ven  will  one  day  bestow  upon  you,  not  indeed  a  per¬ 
 fect  woman,  but  just  such  a  one  as  his  own  wisdom 
 shall  judge  the  fittest  for  you.  Acknowledge  him 
 in  reference  to  this  subject.  She  must  be  the  best 
 wife  for  you  whom  the  Lord  chooses.  I  love  to  see 
 Christians  depending  with  the  simplicity  of  little  chil¬ 
 dren  on  the  blessed  God,  their  God  and  Father  in 
 all  things.  It  is  of  great  importance  that  a  minister 
 have  the  right  sort  of  wife.  It  is  surprising  how 
 much  his  usefulness  may  be  retarded  or  promoted  by 
 her  influence.  Is  it  then  a  matter  of  so  small  con¬ 
 cern,  as  not  to  be  worth  carrying  to  the  Lord?  No. 
 Ask  his  guidance,  and  follow  his  providence,  and  you 
 will  find  happiness  even  in  this  wilderness.  But  that 
 kind  and  degree  of  solicitude,  which  enfeebles  our 
 capacities  for  present  duty,  should  not  he  indulged. 
 A  mind  wasting  its  strength,  either  in  hopeless  re¬ 
 grets  for  the  past,  or  visionary  calculations  for  the 
 fiiture,  is  a  pitiable  object.  God  gives  us  this  mo- 
 
407 
 
 ment  to  employ  for  him.  It  is  all  we  can  call  our 
 own ;  and  it  demands  all  the  energies  and  all  the 
 activities  of  our  nature.  How  much  is  our  progress 
 in  holiness  impeded  by  spiritual  sloth,  that  want  of 
 singleness  of  heart  toward  God,  which  would  make 
 us  feel  that  our  highest  felicity  must  result  from 
 loving  and  glorifying  him,  and  that  this  felicity  is 
 now  within  our  reach,  and  an  object  worth  labouring 
 for ! 
 
 TO  MRS.  H.  OF  BRIDGEWATER. 
 
 Boston ,  April  18,  1822. 
 
 Scarcely  any  subject  has  pressed  itself  upon  my 
 thoughts  with  more  satisfaction,  than  that  of  the 
 progressive  nature  of  Christianity.  I  love  to  see 
 the  spirit  of  heaven  diffusing  itself,  as  it  does,  more 
 and  more,  over  the  whole  soul  of  the  Christian,  as 
 he  advances  nearer  heaven.  I  think  I  love  to  see 
 others  growing  in  grace,  and  glorifying  God,  though 
 sensible  that  my  own  sloth  and  worldly-mindedness 
 are  rendered  more  apparent,  by  being  compared  with 
 their  spirituality  and  devotedness. 
 
 We  have  a  new  thing  here — a  Union  Prayer 
 Meeting,  attended  by  all  denominations  of  evangeli¬ 
 cal  Christians.  The  second  meeting  was  held  this 
 evening,  which  the  rain  has  prevented  my  attending. 
 It  appears  to  me,  however,  it  will  be  very  pleasant 
 to  see  such  a  union,  and  to  hear  prayer  for  the  same 
 blessings  offered  up  by  those  who  have  hitherto  had 
 little  or  no  intercourse  as  brethren.  Some  are  ex¬ 
 pecting  great  things  from  this  union.  Would  that 
 events  may  answer  this  expectation  !  We  should 
 
408 
 
 not  be  faithless,  but  believing;  yet  it  seems  to  me 
 that  the  people  of  God  are  not  yet  prepared  for  a 
 revival  of  religion.  There  is  among  them  too  much 
 conformity  to  the  world,  too  much  cleaving  to  beg¬ 
 garly  elements,  too  little  willingness  to  labour  and 
 make  sacrifices  for  Christ,  and  to  bear,  so  far  as  need 
 be,  his  reproach,  to  justify  any  very  strong  hopes  of 
 an  immediate  revival  among  us.  It  is  when  the  ser¬ 
 vants  of  God  begin  to  take  pleasure  in  the  stones ,  and 
 to  favour  the  dust  of  Zion,  that  the  time  to  favour  her 
 is  come . 
 
 TO  THE  SAME. 
 
 Boston ,  April  21,  1822. 
 
 I  feel  much  concern,  my  dear  M.  at  the  last  ac¬ 
 counts  from  you.  And  yet  why  should  I  ?  God 
 loves  you  infinitely  better  than  I  do.  If,  therefore, 
 he  does  not  restore  your  health,  his  reasons  are 
 such  as  would  satisfy  us  all,  if  we  understood  them. 
 This  I  know.  And  when  I  think  of  you,  my  sister, 
 I  am  more  disposed  to  bless  God  than  any  thing 
 else.  What  a  mercy  that  your  mind  is  so  sweetly 
 stayed  upon  Him,  who  is  indeed  true  and  faithful, 
 and  who  has  said,  66 1  will  never  leave  thee,  nor  for¬ 
 sake  thee  !”  Whatever  we  may  think  of  it,  it  is 
 an  enviable  thing  to  be  nearly  delivered  from  all  the 
 toils,  and  pains,  and  enemies,  and  pollutions  of  this 
 wilderness ;  to  have  nearly  arrived  at  the  boundary 
 of  the  promised  land  of  our  everlasting  rest.  It  is 
 so.  But,  alas  !  I  feel  the  subject  to  be  too  spiritual, 
 too  ethereal,  for  my  earthly,  grovelling  mind  to 
 grasp.  To  be  like  the  angels,  to  love  and  serve 
 
409 
 
 God  with  the  singleness  of  devotion,  the  unceasing 
 activity,  the  unmingled  holiness,  and  the  complete 
 consecration  of  all  the  faculties  to  the  blessed  employ¬ 
 ment,  which  characterize  their  worship,  sometimes 
 looks  so  enviable  to  me,  that  I  feel  almost  ready  to 
 die  any  moment  to  attain  it.  It  would  be  thus  with 
 me  always,  were  it  not  for  the  inveterate  carnality 
 of  my  nature,  which  cannot  long  fix  itself  upon  the 
 spiritual,  the  holy  realities  of  the  upper  world.  Yes, 
 if  the  language  of  our  hearts  was,  44  As  the  hart  pant- 
 eth  after  the  water-brooks,  so  panteth  my  soul  after 
 thee,  O  God,”  we  should  be  willing  to  die,  and  re¬ 
 joice  to  die,  as  the  best,  the  only  means  of  attaining 
 the  accomplishment  of  our  desires,  at  least  when  it 
 became  manifestly  the  will  of  our  Father  in  heaven. 
 
 TO  MRS.  T.  OF  D. 
 
 Boston ,  April  28,  1822. 
 
 My  dear  friend,  I  believe  I  love  you  the  better 
 for  all  your  mental  trials.  There  is  something  in 
 beholding  our  friends  suffer,  in  any  way,  which  excites 
 sympathy,  and  sympathy  begets  love.  When  all 
 goes  on  smoothly  with  our  friends,  we  think  they  can 
 do  well  enough  without  us ;  and  perhaps  we  do  not 
 feel  so  strong  affection,  where  we  view  ourselves  as 
 wholly  unimportant.  This  is  doubtless  wrong ;  but 
 it  is,  I  believe,  true.  In  the  sorrows  which  you  were 
 experiencing  when  you  wrote  last,  my  dear  H.  I  can, 
 I  do  sympathize  :  I  sympathize  in  them  all ;  in  those 
 which  respect  yourself,  and  those  which  pertain  to 
 your  children.  They  are  my  own.  And  fain  would 
 
 S  41 
 
410 
 
 I  write  something  which  may  have  a  quickening  in¬ 
 fluence  on  us  both. 
 
 In  the  first  place,  let  us  beware  of  despondency, 
 or  a  gloomy  faithlessness  in  the  covenant  of  God  s 
 grace.  It  is  true,  we  are  all  you  describe,  back¬ 
 sliders,  rebellious  children;  who  would,  long  ago, 
 have  wearied  out  the  goodness  of  our  Benefactor, 
 were  he  not  infinite  in  mercy.  We  may,  on  some 
 accounts,  be  greater  sinners  than  others,  if  guilt  is 
 to  be  measured  by  love  resisted  and  grace  abused. 
 This  should  humble  us.  It  should  lay  us  low  in 
 the  dust,  with  the  spirit  of  filial  brokenness  of  heart, 
 before  our  injured  and  compassionate  God.  It  should 
 make  us  sigh  and  mourn  under  a  sense  of  our  pol¬ 
 lution,  and  labour  for  sanctification.  But  it  should 
 not  wither  our  strength,  and  consume  our  spirits  in 
 faithless  sorrow.  Oh  no;  “  Faint,  yet  pursuing,” 
 should  be  our  motto.  The  spiritual  sloth  which 
 results  from  indifference,  and  the  spiritual  debility 
 which  arises  from  unbelief,  are  equally  dangerous  to 
 the  soul.  It  is  no  less  true  in  spiritual  than  in  tem¬ 
 poral  things,  “  that  the  hand  of  the  diligent  maketh 
 rich,  but  he  that  dealeth  with  a  slack  hand  becometh 
 poor.”  One  of  the  benefits  secured  to  believers,  by 
 the  promises  of  God’s  well-ordered  covenant,  is  sanc¬ 
 tification.  This  was  purchased  for  them  by  their 
 great  Mediator  and  Head,  who  is  exalted  to  be  a 
 Prince  and  a  Saviour,  to  bestow  upon  his  people  the 
 blessings  he  has  obtained  for  them ;  and  he  will  be¬ 
 stow  them.  He  does  not  send  us  on  a  warfare  at 
 our  own  charges.  He  proffers  us  all  necessary  grace. 
 All  we  need  is  treasured  up  in  Him  in  whom  we  pro¬ 
 fess  to  believe,  and  may  be  obtained  by  looking  to 
 him  in  the  exercise  of  a  lively  faith. 
 
411 
 
 Let  us,  then,  never  be  contented  while  our  spiri¬ 
 tual  enemies  are  unsubdued,  but  fight  manfully  the 
 good  fight  of  faith.  Alas  !  I  know  not  how  it  is, 
 but  there  seems  to  he  a  something  within  us  which 
 prevents  our  resolutely  determining  to  give  our 
 temptations  no  quarter.  The  world  holds  out  her 
 allurements ;  her  flatteries  please  us ;  our  pride,  or 
 our  selfishness,  is  gratified ;  and  we  do  not  say  to  the 
 insnaring  tempter,  <c  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan.” 
 This  is  my  greatest  trouble — the  want  of  singleness 
 of  heart  toward  God,  the  abiding,  practical  determi¬ 
 nation  to  resist  every  sin  in  its  first  specious  advances. 
 What  ingratitude  toward  Him  who  loved  us  unto 
 death ;  toward  Him  whom,  if  we  are  Christians,  we 
 love,  after  all,  far  better  than  we  love  all  other  things ; 
 toward  Him  for  whom  we  should  be  willing  to  live, 
 and  labour,  and  suffer,  and  die  ! 
 
 We  must  be  much  in  prayer  for  our  children. 
 We  must  daily  give  them  to  our  God,  to  be  his 
 servants.  We  must  take  hold  of  his  covenant  for 
 them,  as  all  our  salvation  and  all  our  desire  ;  remem¬ 
 bering  that  66  eternal  life”  is  “  the  gift  of  God” — a 
 free  gift,  cc  not  for  our  merits  or  deservings,”  but  of 
 his  own  unfathomable  grace.  Let  our  sins  and  short¬ 
 comings,  in  reference  to  our  children,  humble,  but 
 not  discourage  us.  And  while  we  labour  to  know 
 how  we  may  most  effectually  promote  their  best  in¬ 
 terests,  and  strive  after  a  corresponding  course  of  con¬ 
 duct,  let  us  remember  that  God  knows  all  our  diffi¬ 
 culties  and  hinderances,  the  troubles  we  meet  with  in 
 ourselves,  from  them,  and  from  the  world  which  lieth 
 in  wickedness.  And  let  us  trust  to  his  promise  who 
 has  said,  “  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee.” 
 
 s  2 
 
412 
 
 TO  HER  ELDEST  DAUGHTER  AT  BOSTON. 
 
 Bridgewater,  May  9,  1822. 
 
 I  received  your  letter,  my  dear  S.  with  much 
 pleasure.  The  good  accounts  you  give  me  of  your 
 brother  and  sister,  rejoice  my  heart.  I  trust  they 
 will  continue  to  deserve  my  approbation,  by  striving 
 to  do  whatever  they  believe  I  would  wish  were  I  with 
 them.  If  children  knew  how  certainly  a  departure 
 from  the  path  of  duty  wounds  the  conscience,  and 
 brings  sorrow  and  distress  upon  the  mind,  they  would 
 labour  more  earnestly  to  avoid  sin.  C£  The  way  of 
 transgressors  is  hard,”  says  the  wise  man ;  and  he 
 says  the  truth.  God  forbid  that  any  of  my  dear 
 children  should  know  the  truth  of  the  declaration, 
 in  its  full  extent,  by  experience  !  There  is  only  one 
 way  to  keep  from  sin ;  that  is,  persevering  resistance 
 to  temptation,  and  prayer.  Without  praying,  you 
 will  never  successfully  resist  sin ;  it  will  be  too  strong 
 for  you.  My  dear  children,  you  are  in  an  enemy’s 
 country.  Fear  temptation,  fear  sin,  fear  offending 
 God;  but  always  remember,  for  your  encourage¬ 
 ment,  that  there  is  One  who  is  able  to  help  you. 
 He  loves  to  see  little  children  looking  to  him  for  aid. 
 And  he  has  said,  “  Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive ;  seek, 
 and  ye  shall  find ;  knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto 
 you.” 
 
 I  have  just  come  from  your  aunt  Mary’s  sick¬ 
 room,  and  it  is  late ;  so  I  have  only  time  to  inform 
 you,  that  this  dear  aunt  has  almost  got  to  heaven. 
 The  palid  cheek,  the  hollow  eye,  the  wasted  form, 
 the  quick  and  laborious  breathing,  all  indicate  that 
 
413 
 
 the  flame  of  life  is  nearly  extinguished.  A  few  more 
 struggles  of  feeble,  pained,  dissolving  mortality,  and 
 all  will  be  over.  But  your  aunt  is  happy.  She 
 had  a  wakeful,  suffering  night,  last  night ;  coughing 
 incessantly,  and  burning  with  fever,  and  distressed 
 for  breath ;  and  yet  she  told  me  this  morning,  that 
 she  never  felt  God  nearer  to  her  than  last  night,  that 
 she  knew  his  hand  dispensed  to  her  every  trial,  and 
 his  mercy  would  be  sufficient  for  her.  What  makes 
 your  aunt  so  happy  in  this  hour  of  sorrow,  when  all 
 the  men  on  earth  could  do  her  no  good?  It  is  reli¬ 
 gion,  my  daughter.  She  has  a  hope  which  is  as  an 
 anchor  to  her  soul. 
 
 May  29.  I  have  just  returned  from  a  visit  to 
 Bridgewater,  where  I  have  been  to  receive  the  last 
 parting  blessing  of  dear  sister  Mary.  It  was  a  sad 
 and  solemn  scene,  well  calculated  to  soften  my  heart. 
 I  am  depressed  in  spirits.  All  the  solitude  and  sor¬ 
 rows  of  my  own  lonely  state  seem  to  break  in  upon 
 me  afresh  ;  and  my  mind  is  greatly  distressed  with  a 
 sense  of  my  hardness  under  all  my  own  personal 
 chastisements,  and  under  this  solemn  providence.  I 
 have  been  trying  to  lay  the  matter  before  God,  that 
 I  may  obtain  forgiveness  for  the  past,  and  strength 
 for  the  future ;  and  particularly,  that  God  will  ever 
 go  before  me  as  my  guide,  and  never  suffer  me  to 
 do  any  thing  inconsistent  with  his  glory.  I  greatly 
 fear  and  dread  being  left  to  do  any  thing  myself. 
 I  would  take  the  word  of  God  as  my  only  directory, 
 and  the  grace  of  God  as  my  only  support,  in  all  that 
 I  desire,  and  in  all  that  I  do. 
 
414 
 
 TO  MRS.  S.*  OF  BRIDGEWATER. 
 
 Boston ,  June  1,  1822. 
 
 I  feel  deeply,  since  my  return,  for  your  dear 
 family.  I  know  the  heart-rending  pangs  you  will 
 suffer,  when  you  will  be  ready  to  say,  “  All  his 
 waves  and  his  billows  are  going  over  me ;  I  sink  in 
 the  deep  waters,  where  there  is  no  standing,” — and 
 my  heart  aches  for  you.  But  I  trust  He  who 
 speaks  the  word,  and  the  storms  of  nature,  and  the 
 more  fearful  storms  of  the  spirit,  are  still,  will  speak 
 peace  to  your  souls.  Strive,  my  dear  friends,  to 
 exercise  the  disposition  of  a  child  under  this  severe 
 rebuke.  Strive  after  the  penitence  of  a  child  for 
 the  past,  the  submission  and  trust  of  a  child  for  the 
 present,  and  the  obedience  of  a  child  for  the  future ; 
 and  God  will  show  you  how  able  he  is  to  comfort 
 you  as  a  father.  I  commend  you,  and  myself,  and 
 our  dear  little  ones,  to  his  grace.  Let  him  be  our 
 portion,  let  him  bless  us,  and  all  will  be  well — well 
 for  time,  well  for  eternity. 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  Y. 
 
 Boston ,  June  3,  1822. 
 
 In  our  dear  Mary’s  removal,  I  feel  that  I  have 
 sustained  another  loss.  The  sweet  lamh-like  spirit 
 which  she  exhibited  the  last  years  of  her  life,  and 
 her  increasing  love  for  me,  make  me  feel  that  an- 
 
 r  The  mother  of  Mrs.  Mary  Huntington,  whose  decease  was 
 referred  to  in  the  preceding  extract. 
 
415 
 
 other,  whom  I  loved  most  tenderly,  is  gone.  I  feel 
 that  the  world  is  losing  much  that  has  been  valued. 
 And  were  it  not  for  the  beams  of  light  and  hope 
 which  are  shed  upon  it  from  a  holier  region,  I  should 
 be  ready  to  say,  all  is  darkness  and  shade.  Oh  to 
 turn  away  our  eyes  and  our  hearts  to  that  brighter 
 world,  where  all  is  happiness  without  mixture  and 
 without  end ! 
 
 I  am  reading  Owen  on  Spiritual  Mindedness ; 
 and  I  find  it  a  very  trying  book.  But  I  hope,  my 
 dear  sister,  God  will  undertake  for  us  both,  and  carry 
 forward  the  work  of  our  sanctification,  amid  all  our 
 hinderances  from  without,  and  all  our  discourage¬ 
 ments  from  within.  And  if  he  do,  it  will  be  accom¬ 
 plished.  It  does  seem  to  me  that  I  love  the  spirit 
 of  humility,  that  I  desire  to  take  my  place  at  the  feet 
 of  my  Saviour,  and  never  to  think  highly  of  myself 
 again.  Oh,  the  hope  of  deliverance  is  like  cold 
 water  to  a  thirsty  soul ! 
 
 TO  HER  SISTER  AT  KILLINGWORTH. 
 
 Boston ,  June  10,  1822. 
 
 I  have  thought  a  good  deal  lately  of  your  dear 
 boy ;  and,  when  praying  for  my  own  son,  have  often 
 had  much  freedom  in  praying  for  him.  Who  knows 
 but  he  may  come  up  to  take  the  place  in  the  church 
 of  that  dear  departed  grandfather,  whom  I  never 
 knew  ?  God  is  wonderfully  manifesting  himself  for 
 the  seed  of  his  people  at  the  present  day.  I  do  not 
 doubt  you  daily  give  him  to  Christ  as  his  servant. 
 1  think  you  should  hope  for  great  things  respecting 
 him.  Pious  laymen,  at  the  present  day,  have  an 
 
416 
 
 opportunity  of  doing  almost  as  much  for  the  advance¬ 
 ment  of  Christ’s  kingdom  as  ministers.  For  my 
 own  children,  I  desire  not  to  prescribe  how  or  where 
 they  shall  serve  God.  This  I  would  leave  to  his 
 wisdom,  whether  it  shall  be  in  heaven  or  on  earth, 
 at  home  or  in  the  ends  of  the  earth,  as  public  or  as 
 private  characters.  But  that  they  may  be  his  ser¬ 
 vants ,  this  one  hope  I  would  press  to  my  bosom  till 
 I  die.  Not  because  I  desire  any  blessing;  but 
 because  nothing  is  too  much  to  hope  for  from  that 
 God  who  hath  given  his  only-begotten  Son  to  die 
 for  the  redemption  of  man ;  and  because  that  work 
 is  finished,  and  he  can  now  glorify  himself  in  our 
 vsalvation ;  because  he  has  promised  that  the  Re¬ 
 deemer  shall  see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul,  and  be 
 satisfied ;”  and  because  he  has  declared  himself  the 
 covenant  God  of  believers,  u  and  of  their  seed  after 
 them.”  I  have  forfeited  all  claim  to  the  covenant 
 of  his  grace  a  thousand,  thousand  times.  Never¬ 
 theless,  66  He  is  mindful  of  his  covenant.”  Though 
 we  change,  He  abideth  faithful.  His  purposes  of 
 mercy  shall  prevail,  not  only  in  opposition  to  our 
 numberless  sins,  but  to  their  utter  destruction,  if  we 
 are  his  children ;  and  the  top-stone  of  our  salvation 
 shall  be  laid  amidst  the  shoutings  of  <c  Grace,  grace 
 unto  it.”  Here  is  all  my  hope,  for  myself  and  for 
 my  children. 
 
 June  15.  This  dear  people  often  profess  to  have 
 derived  comfort  and  profit  from  my  visits  among 
 them,  especially  in  seasons  of  affliction.  But  it 
 makes  me  ashamed  to  hear  these  things.  I  fear 
 there  are  yet  within  me  unexplored  depths  of  ini- 
 
417 
 
 quity.  The  remains  of  that  constant  enemy  of  my 
 peace,  pride,  have  shown  themselves  of  late  to  be  still 
 powerful.  But  I  would  open  every  secret  chamber 
 of  my  soul  to  God,  and  spread  out  all  the  defilements 
 and  deceits  of  my  heart  before  him.  cc  He  that 
 trusteth  in  his  own  heart,”  says  Solomon,  cc  is  a 
 fool.”  God  forbid  that  I  should  ever  trust  in  mine  ! 
 Oh  for  some  spiritual  strength,  some  spiritual  feeling  ! 
 I  am  becalmed  in  the  ocean  of  this  world.  Jesus, 
 great  Captain  of  salvation,  undertake  for  me,  and 
 help  me  to  part  with  every  thing  which  hinders  and 
 holds  me  back.  Save  me,  Lord  !  save  me  ! 
 
 TO  MRS.  S.  AT  BRIDGEWATER. 
 
 Boston,  June  16,  1822. 
 
 All  that  can  be  seen  here  of  nature  is  quiet,  and 
 serene,  and  lovely.  But  my  heart  is  sad,  and  so  is 
 yours.  I  take  my  pen  to  relieve  my  own  spirits,  by 
 communing  with  a  friend.  And  to  this  motive  is 
 added  another,  that  of  extending  to  the  solitary  and 
 mourning  mother  the  expression  of  my  sympathy. 
 Yes,  I  do  feel  for  you,  my  afflicted  friend;  and  all 
 the  shades  of  sorrow  which  pour  their  deepening 
 gloom  over  your  wounded  heart,  I  know ;  for  I  too 
 am  a  mourner.  Who  can  tell  the  sense  of  hope¬ 
 less  solitude,  the  shipwreck  of  earthly  expectations, 
 which  they  groan  under  whom  the  Lord  hath  writ¬ 
 ten  desolate?  The  sun  shines  the  same,  nature 
 rejoices,  and  all  the  great  machinery  of  universal 
 providence  moves  on  without  interruption ;  but  no 
 revolutions  can  restore  that  which  has  been  smitten 
 with  the  touch  of  death.  The  chasm  stares  fearfully 
 
 s  3 
 
418 
 
 upon  us ;  and  we  say  of  this  beautiful  world,  «  It  is 
 a  wilderness,  a  desert !” 
 
 But  this  is  the  dark  side  of  the  picture.  Nature 
 has,  and  must  have,  some  such  moments ;  but  they 
 are  not  her  best.  And  I  would  now  endeavour  to 
 rouse  both  you  and  myself  from  these  withering, 
 these  consuming  recollections.  It  is  sin  to  indulge 
 ourselves  in  sorrow,  so  far  as  to  unfit  us  for  present 
 
 y  is  sin  for  us  not  to  feel,  that 
 God  can  be  to  us  more  than  any  thing  he  has  re¬ 
 moved.  What  are  creatures,  what  are  all  our  com- 
 foits,  without  him  ?  They  are  to  us  just  what  he 
 makes  them.  And,  if  he  please,  can  he  not  still 
 give  us  what  we  need  of  temporal  comfort  ?  O  yes  ! 
 If  we  could  but  find  our  happiness  now  in  what  the 
 angels  do,  how  every  earthly  trial  would  lessen ! 
 And  is  it  not  wise  to  begin,  at  least,  to  place  our 
 happiness  in  what  we  certainly  shall  place  it  in,  if  we 
 ever  get  to  heaven  ?  And  what  is  the  happiness  of 
 the  angels  ?  Doing  the  will  and  promoting  the 
 glory  of  God.  And  this  source  of  felicity  temporal 
 circumstances  cannot  affect. 
 
 Aly  dear  Mrs.  S.  while  you  are  meekly  laying 
 youiself  under  the  rod  of  the  Almighty,  while  you 
 patiently  endure  as  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible, 
 while  you  say  with  the  spirit  of  a  child,  “  All  I  have 
 
 is  his,  let  him  do  what  he  will  with  his  own  ” _ 
 
 may  you  not  be  happy  ?  Wliile  you  labour  and 
 pray  for  those  dear  children,  while  you  strive  to  fill, 
 in  some  measure,  to  them  the  place  of  their  beloved 
 mother  may  you  not  be  happy?  While  you  are 
 exerting  yourself,  in  every  way  opened  to  you  in 
 providence,  for  the  coming  of  Chrises  kingdom, 
 
419 
 
 doing  good  to  his  members,  and  striving  to  promote 
 his  glory — may  you  not  be  happy  ?  Yes,  my  friend. 
 And  this  is  heavenly  happiness  begun  in  a  world  of 
 sorrow,  where  the  sins  and  the  pains  of  mortality  do 
 often  interrupt  it,  where  the  tear  of  grief  often  dims 
 the  eye,  and  the  pang  of  distress  heaves  the  bosom  ; 
 but  it  shall  be  maintained  through  all  the  interrup¬ 
 tions  it  meets  with  in  the  present  state,  and  receive 
 its  consummation  in  that  world,  where  those  who  love 
 God  shall  mourn  and  sigh  no  more. 
 
 June  24-.  Yesterday  was  S.’s*  birth-day.  I  ob¬ 
 served  it  as  a  season  of  fasting  and  prayer ;  to  re¬ 
 member  and  confess  before  God,  S.’s  sins  and  my 
 own,  and  our  family  sins ;  to  spread  them  all  out  be¬ 
 fore  the  Lord,  and  seek  the  application  of  the  blood 
 of  atonement,  that  past  iniquities  might  not  keep 
 back  God’s  mercy  from  my  children.  I  especially 
 desired  to  repent  in  dust  and  ashes  of  some  of  my 
 own  transgressions,  particularly  the  sins  of  pride,  and 
 of  a  disposition  to  turn  back  to  something  in  this 
 world,  either  possessed  or  desired,  for  rest  and  com¬ 
 fort,  and  an  unevenness  of  temper  which  makes  me 
 impatient  with  the  daily  little  faults  of  my  children, 
 such  as  carelessness,  noisy  and  inattentive  behaviour, 
 &c.  These  things  in  them  I  ought  to  mourn  over 
 as  sins ;  but  they  should  not  ruffle  or  discompose  my 
 temper.  I  thought  I  desired  not  only  pardon  for 
 the  past,  but  grace  to  resist  all  sin  for  the  time  to 
 come.  I  had  much  freedom  in  prayer,  and  I  hope 
 some  strength  of  faith  in  giving  up  my  dear  S.  to  be 
 
 One  of  her  daughters. 
 
420 
 
 wholly  the  Lord’s.  I  do  trust  the  Lord  will  make 
 
 her  his,  and  that  all  my  children  will  be  the  servants 
 of  God. 
 
 My  3.  It  is  my  fervent  desire  that  the  continual 
 experience  I  have  of  the  weakness  and  sinfulness  of 
 my  nature,  may  make  me  very  tender  and  pitiful 
 toward  my  erring,  sinning  fellow-creatures;  that, 
 knowing  how  unable  I  am  to  resist  temptation  when 
 left  to  my  own  strength,  I  may  be  charitable  in  my 
 judgment  of  others ;  and,  instead  of  harshly  con¬ 
 demning  the  sinner,  hate  the  sin,  and  carry  it  all  to 
 Him  who  alone  is  able  to  deliver  either  them  or  me 
 out  of  temptation  !  Lord,  grant  me  a  compassionate, 
 charitable  temper  toward  others,  and  constant,  unre¬ 
 lenting  severity  toward  my  own  sinful  propensities  ! 
 
 TO  MRS.  T.  OF  D. 
 
 Boston ,  July  4,  1822. 
 
 Has  not  our  Father  in  heaven  the  entire  manage¬ 
 ment  of  all  the  peculiarities  of  our  circumstances,  the 
 lesser  and  the  greater  ?  And  is  it  not  safest,  is  it 
 not  best,  for  us  that  it  is  so  ?  Let  this  be  felt,  and 
 we  shall  rest  in  the  belief  that  all  is  just  as  it  should 
 be.  “  They  that  believe  do  enter  into  rest,”  even 
 as  to  the  things  of  this  life,  so  far  as  they  believe. 
 If  you  are  a  child  of  God,  he  as  certainly  appoints 
 and  directs  all  the  little  vexations  which  you  find  so 
 .uncomfortable,  and  as  constantly  eyes  the  advance¬ 
 ment  of  your  interests  by  them,  as  can  be  the  case 
 with  any  of  your  heavier  afflictions.  Have  you  read 
 Henry  on  Meekness  ?  I  found  it  a  most  excellent 
 work.  “  We  must  be  quiet,”  says  this  good  man, 
 
421 
 
 5£  under  afflictions,  as  the  air  is  quiet  from  winds. 
 It  is  not  well  to  be  windbound  in  dulness  and  indif¬ 
 ference  ;  but  tempests  are  perilous,  though  the  wind 
 be  in  the  right  point.”  The  habit  of  feeling  too 
 deeply  the  unavoidable  ills  of  life,  is  one  into  which 
 the  most  interesting,  and  delicate,  and  generous  of 
 our  race  are  most  likely  to  fall.  But  it  should  be 
 guarded  against.  The  sensibility  which  is  amiable 
 and  lovely  when  duly  regulated,  becomes  a  most 
 mischievous  companion  to  its  possessor  when  not 
 thus  regulated.  You  may  say  to  me,  tC  Physician, 
 heal  thyself.”  But  if  I  love  you,  I  shall  desire  you 
 to  escape  all  the  troubles  which  my  want  of  wisdom 
 and  want  of  grace  have  occasioned  me. 
 
 1  have  been  thinking  lately,  more  than  usual, 
 what  our  deficiencies  in  parental  government  are 
 most  likely  to  be ;  and  I  rather  think  we  are  in  dan¬ 
 ger  of  erring  on  the  side  of  indulgence.  Many 
 things  would  naturally  incline  us  to  this ;  and  it  is  a 
 fault  which  would  bear  most  ruinously  upon  our 
 children,  especially  upon  our  sons.  It  is  of  great 
 importance  that  they  should  discover  in  us  no  incon¬ 
 sistencies,  to  lessen  their  confidence  in  our  judg¬ 
 ment  ;  and  no  impatience  and  irritation  at  their  mis¬ 
 carriages,  to  weaken  their  persuasion  of  our  piety. 
 While  their  faults  should  never  be  connived  at,  they 
 should  be  met  with  such  a  spirit  as  to  convince  them 
 at  once,  that  it  is  not  the  trouble  they  give  us  that 
 disturbs  our  minds,  but  the  sin  they  have  committed 
 against  God.  Absolute  obedience  should  be  insisted 
 on.  Nothing  short  of  this  should  ever  be  allowed 
 to  answer.  When  we  see  the  proud  spirit  rising, 
 and  threatening  rebellion,  let  us  take  the  Bible,  and, 
 
422 
 
 while  we  show  our  children  the  awful  guilt  we  should 
 incur  by  suffering  them  to  resist  our  authority  with 
 impunity,  let  us  assure  them  that,  by  the  grace  of 
 God,  we  never  will  incur  this  guilt;  that  we  will 
 labour  till  our  latest  breath,  to  enforce  upon  them 
 the  reasonableness  and  the  necessity  of  yielding  an 
 unreserved  obedience  to  all  God’s  commandments,  of 
 which,  “  Children,  obey  your  parents  in  all  things,” 
 is  one.  I  was  struck  a  few  days  ago  with  what  God 
 said  to  Eli  concerning  his  children :  See  1  Sam.  ii. 
 2/— 30.  It  seems  to  me  that  no  Christian  parent 
 
 can  expect  God  to  bless  his  children,  unless  he 
 <C  honour”  Him,  by  requiring  of  them  obedience  to 
 all  that  he  has  commanded.  And  when  they  osten¬ 
 sibly  and  unequivocally  fail  of  doing  this,  it  should 
 he  treated  as  a  great  sin,  with  which  God  is  espe¬ 
 cially  displeased  in  them,  on  account  of  their  peculiar 
 relation  to  his  church. 
 
 Let  me  urge  you  never  to  yield  to  despondency. 
 Hem  ember  him  who  hath  said,  u  I  will  never  leave 
 thee,  nor  forsake  thee.  The  permission  of  these 
 mental  distresses  on  the  part  of  God  is  necessary  to 
 show  us  our  weakness.  So  far  all  is  right.  But 
 we  should  not  yield  to  them.  We  should  not  suffer 
 them  to  cast  a  veil  over  our  spiritual  vision,  and 
 prevent  our  discerning  the  light,  and  grace,  and 
 strength  of  Him  who  is  the  Author  and  Finisher  of 
 
 all  our  graces,  and  all  our  hopes.  Let  us  trust  him 
 for  ever. 
 
423 
 
 TO  MRS.  W.  THEN  AT  J.  N.  Y. 
 
 Boston ,  July  28,  1822. 
 
 It  has  been  like  October  the  last  week.  I  don’t 
 know  how  it  is,  but  autumn  is  my  favourite  season. 
 It  used  to  be  dull  to  me.  The  falling  of  the  leaves, 
 and  the  undressing  of  nature,  occasioned  feelings  of 
 melancholy.  But  it  is  otherwise  now.  There  is  a 
 pensiveness,  a  tranquil  sadness,  (if  we  can  be  sad 
 without  being  unhappy,)  cast  over  me  now,  by  the 
 return  of  this  season ;  but  it  is  a  quiet,  serene  feel¬ 
 ing,  which  whispers  of  spirits  departed  to  a  quiet 
 world  beyond  the  sky,  where  the  hurried  pursuits, 
 and  gilded  temptations,  and  heart-breaking  sorrows 
 of  life,  are  unknown.  That  autumn  of  the  soul, 
 that  peaceful  advancement  toward  the  termination  of 
 the  season  of  trial,  which  the  faithful  Christian  ex¬ 
 periences  when  his  labours  and  his  conflicts  are  nearly 
 over,  seems,  in  the  contemplation,  very  refreshing 
 to  me.  But  these  enjoyments  are  for  the  faithful 
 Christian.  They  must  be  gained  by  many  a  weary 
 step,  many  a  painful  struggle,  many  a  hard-earned 
 victory.  This  is  the  time  for  resisting,  striving, 
 fighting.  May  we  gird  on  the  whole  armour  of 
 God,  and  never  lose,  at  least  this  one  evidence  of 
 our  adoption,  a  firm  and  resolute  resistance  of  sin, 
 the  enemy  that  must  be  conquered,  or  all  our  hopes 
 will  be  found  to  have  been  vain. 
 
424 
 
 TO  MRS.  S.  AT  BRIDGEWATER. 
 
 Boston ,  August  2,  1822. 
 
 M.  the  Lord  hath  taken,  and  now  S.  is  danger- 
 
 © 
 
 ously  sick.  You  seem,  my  dear  madam,  called  to 
 various  trials  of  your  faith ;  and  I  suppose  you  some¬ 
 times  feel  that  your  cup  of  sorrow  is  overflowing. 
 Yet,  notwithstanding  all  the  heart-breaking  certain¬ 
 ties  of  actual  experience,  and  all  the  dreary  anticipa¬ 
 tions  of  unknown  difficulties  to  come,  let  me  say  to 
 you,  my  dear  afflicted  friend,  Trust  in  the  Lord,  for 
 “  none  of  them  that  trust  in  him  shall  be  desolate.” 
 4 4  As  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength  be.”  He  will 
 not  lay  more  upon  you  than  he  will  enable  you  to 
 bear.  Does  he  not  know  all  your  circumstances,  all 
 your  necessities?  And  is  he  unfaithful,  that  he 
 should  call  those  who  trust  in  his  promises  and  seek 
 his  aid,  to  any  trials  which  he  will  not  give  them 
 strength  to  endure,  to  any  duties  which  he  will  not 
 give  them  grace  to  perform  ?  44  Commit  thy  way 
 
 unto  the  Lord ;”  yea,  44  trust  in  him  at  all  times.” 
 If  he  cut  you  off  from  creatures,  it  is  to  drive  you  to 
 himself.  Let  this  end  be  gained,  and  all  will  yet 
 be  well.  Yes,  your  weary  footsteps  shall  be  safely 
 guided  through  this  rugged  path.  The  way  may 
 be  watered  with  your  tears  ,*  but  it  is  the  way  of  his 
 people ;  it  is  the  way  of  the  Lord.  It  is  the  path  of 
 conflict  indeed ;  but  it  shall  prove  to  you  the  path  of 
 victory,  and  its  end  shall  be  heaven. 
 
 W  ith  most  of  us  there  is  a  fearful  prevalence  of 
 unbelief  and  spiritual  sloth.  The  fire  from  heaven 
 may  have  been  kindled  in  our  hearts,  but  it  is 
 
425 
 
 smothered,  and  nearly  extinguished,  beneath  the 
 mass  of  sin  and  death  which  cleaves  to  us.  It  can¬ 
 not  warm  our  own  souls;  no  wonder,  then,  we  are 
 unable  to  communicate  light  and  warmth  to  others. 
 Alas !  how  often  do  I  feel  it  to  be  so  with  myself ; 
 and  that  I  am  dreadfully  guilty,  not  only  of  prevent¬ 
 ing  my  own  growth  in  grace,  but  of  defrauding  others 
 nf  the  improvement  which  they  might,  perhaps,  de¬ 
 rive  from  me,  if  my  soul  were  in  a  right  state  !  for 
 who  is  the  Christian  so  mean,  so  low,  that  may  not 
 communicate  to  others  the  flame  of  holy  affection 
 which  is  glowing  in  his  own  heart  ?  And  if  afflic¬ 
 tions  may  rouse  us  from  this  spiritual  insensibility, 
 shall  we  not  willingly  suffer  ? 
 
 August  3.  Among  the  trials  of  my  present  situa¬ 
 tion,  (which,  blessed  be  God !  is  more  pleasant  than 
 I  ever  expected  it  to  be  in  this  world,)  that  of  feeling 
 myself  continually  liable  to  ungenerous  remark,  is 
 one  !  My  natural  disposition  is  frank  and  affec¬ 
 tionate.  But  I  sometimes  fear,  lest  the  most  inno¬ 
 cent  expressions  of  feeling  should  be  misconstrued, 
 and  the  most  innocent  remarks  misapprehended.  I 
 always  thought  myself  unusally  exact  in  my  notions 
 of  female  propriety.  It  is  what  I  have  respected 
 myself  for,  or,  perhaps  more  properly,  been  proud 
 of.  And  there  is  a  particular  vexation  in  being 
 the  subject  of  remark  to  little  minds,  who  are  wholly 
 unable  to  appreciate  the  principles  by  which  persons 
 of  elevated  and  refined  feelings  are  guided.  But 
 why  all  this  uneasy  and  restless  disturbance  of  my 
 proud  heart?  Who  am  I,  to  expect  an  exemption 
 from  the  common  lot  of  the  youthful  widow  ?  Help 
 
426 
 
 me,  Lord,  to  avoid  even  the  appearance  of  evil,  and 
 mourn  over  what  is  wrong,  and  quietly  leave  the  rest 
 to  thee. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  ANDOVER. 
 
 Bridgewater ,  August  26,  1822. 
 
 I  have  concluded  to  send  my  son  to  your  aca¬ 
 demy.  Maternal  attachment  pleaded  hard  in  favour 
 of  retaining  him  in  Boston,  but  judgment  prevailed. 
 I  feel  many  new  anxieties  for  him ;  and  turning  him 
 abroad  upon  a  world  which  lieth  in  wickedness,  seems 
 lull  of  danger.  But  I  am  not  his  keeper;  and  whe¬ 
 ther  with  me  or  from  me,  his  only  security  is  in  the 
 grace  of  Him  who  is  able  to  deliver  from  temptation, 
 to  whom  I  gave  him  at  his  baptism,  and  endeavour 
 in  faith  to  commit  him  every  day. 
 
 TO  HER  SON,  AT  PHILLIPS*  ACADEMY,  ANDOVER. 
 
 Boston,  September  27,  1822. 
 
 My  dear  J. — You  have  been  accustomed  to  come 
 to  me  in  all  your  difficulties,  as  your  friend  and  ad¬ 
 viser.  What  I  have  been  to  you,  my  son,  I  shall 
 always  be  while  I  live.  I  wish  you  to  write  freely 
 to  me.  Tell  me  what  are  your  trials  and  enjoy¬ 
 ments.  Speak  freely  to  me  of  your  faults.  And 
 let  me  assure  you,  your  heart  will  always  be  in  the 
 wrong  when  you  are  unwilling  to  do  this.  Your 
 case  will  be  alarming  indeed,  if  you  ever  yield  to  a 
 disposition  to  conceal  your  faults.  Mr.  C.*  is  your 
 
 *  His  guardian  at  Andover. 
 
427 
 
 friend.  Never  think  him  the  less  so  because  he 
 tells  you  your  faults.  It  is  the  best  possible  proof 
 he  can  give  you  of  his  love.  What  motive  can  he 
 have  for  reproving  you,  but  a  desire  to  promote  your 
 welfare  ?  Receive  his  counsels  and  admonitions 
 then  with  gratitude.  Remember,  my  dear  boy,  you 
 were  not  sent  to  Andover  to  trifle.  You  were  not 
 created  to  trifle.  You  were  made  to  act  for  the 
 glory  of  God  and  the  good  of  mankind.  Let  your 
 daily  endeavour  be,  to  live  as  one  who  must  soon 
 give  account  to  God.  Daily  pray,  <{  Lead  me  not 
 into  temptation.”  And  never  do  any  thing  which 
 conscience  tells  you  God  does  not  approve.  Fare¬ 
 well,  my  child.  The  God  of  your  fathers  bless  and 
 sanctify  you. 
 
 October  5.  I  have  had,  to-night,  a  deep  and 
 solemn  sense  of  the  certainty  and  nearness  of  eternal 
 things ;  more  of  a  strengthening  faith  to  perceive  the 
 substance,  and  feel  the  evidence,  of  things  hoped  for 
 and  unseen,  than  for  a  long  time.  The  thick  veil 
 between  my  soul  and  heavenly  objects  seemed  some¬ 
 what  removed,  so  that  invisible  realities  were  pre¬ 
 sented,  with  unusual  clearness,  to  the  view  of  my 
 faith.  Alas  !  I  have  lived,  the  past  summer,  too 
 much  as  the  world  live.  My  hopes  and  fears,  de¬ 
 sires  and  enjoyments,  have  been,  in  a  great  degree, 
 earthly.  But,  oh  my  Saviour !  there  is  a  faith 
 which  enters  into  that  within  the  veil,  and  overcomes 
 the  world;  which  gives  to  the  subjects  of  revelation  a 
 reality  and  a  certainty  to  the  mind,  that  makes  them 
 effectual  means  of  sanctification.  I  know  it  is  so. 
 Oh  for  such  a  faith  !  Oh  for  a  broken  heart,  and  a 
 
4  28 
 
 disposition  to  turn  away  from  every  earthly  object 
 that  would  keep  me  from  thee  ! 
 
 TO  HER  SON  AT  ANDOVER. 
 
 Boston ,  October  8,  1822. 
 
 In  the  wicked  world,  with  which  you  are  now 
 compelled  to  mingle  to  some  extent,  you  will  often 
 hear  wrong  opinions  advanced,  and  wrong  actions 
 vindicated.  There  are  those  who  call  evil  good,  and 
 good  evil ;  who  put  light  for  darkness,  and  darkness 
 for  light.  I  wish  you  to  be  aware  of  this,  and  to 
 expect  that  you  will  often  meet  with  persons  of  this 
 description.  And,  if  you  will  not  be  corrupted  and 
 ruined,  you  must  have  a  principle  of  some  sort  that 
 will  enable  you  to  encounter  such  temptations  with¬ 
 out  injury.  Now,  what  is  the  principle  that  will 
 enable  you  to  do  this  ?  In  the  first  place,  an  en¬ 
 lightened  conscience ,  to  enable  you  to  distinguish 
 tne  right  from  the  wrong;  and,  in  the  next  place, 
 firmness  or  stability .  You  must  judge  for  yourself, 
 
 under  a  sense  of  your  accountability  to  God;  and 
 then  never,  as  you  value  your  own  peace  of  mind, 
 do  what  you  have  decided  that  it  is  wrong  to  do. 
 Depend  upon  it,  a  boy  will  always  esteem  you  the 
 more  for  a  firm  resistance  of  temptation,  though  he 
 may  laugh  at  you.  Depend  upon  it,  that  indepen¬ 
 dence  which  will  hold  you  steadily  in  the  right  path, 
 will  insure  to  you,  not  only  your  own  peace  of  mind, 
 but  the  respect  of  others.  But,  after  all,  God  must 
 be  your  helper  and  keeper.  The  Psalmist  prayed, 
 “  Hold  thou  me  up,  and  I  shall  be  safe.”  And  this 
 has  been  the  prayer  of  all  good  men  ever  since. 
 Heaven  grant  it  may  be  yours. 
 
429 
 
 What  have  you  gone  to  Andover  for,  my  son? 
 God  knows,  I  think  I  may  say,  that,  on  my  part, 
 you  were  sent  thither  to  fit  you  the  better  to  be  the 
 Lord’s.  Yes,  you  have  been  given  to  God.  I  have, 
 in  your  behalf,  renounced  every  thing  which  might 
 hinder  your  being  entirely  his.  I  have  devoted  you 
 to  the  service  of  the  Saviour.  I  submit  cheerfully 
 to  all  the  sacrifices  connected  with  your  separation 
 from  me,  that  you  may  prepare  to  stand  upon  the 
 Lord’s  side,  and  be  valiant  for  him  on  the  earth. 
 What  say  you  to  all  this  ?  Do  you  choose  this 
 service  ?  Do  you  give  yourself  to  God  ?  Do  you 
 do  this  daily  ?  Do  you  desire  to  manifest  that  you 
 are  on  the  side  of  Jesus  Christ?  My  dear  child, 
 delay  not  to  yield  yourself  up  wholly  to  God.  Be 
 much  in  prayer,  and  in  reading  the  Bible.  Strive 
 to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate.  God  forbid  that  you 
 should  resist  all  the  weighty  obligations  which  bind 
 you  to  his  service,  and  make  your  way,  through 
 them  all,  down  the  fearful  road  that  is  trodden  only 
 by  his  enemies,  and  which  terminates  in  the  endless 
 horrors  of  the  second  death  !  My  heart  sickens  at 
 the  thought.  I  would  take  you  by  the  hand,  and 
 conduct  you  in  the  blessed  way  marked  by  the  steps 
 of  all  holy  beings  who  have  lived  on  earth,  by 
 apostles  and  prophets,  and  by  the  great  High  Priest 
 of  our  profession,  Jesus  the  Son  of  God,  who  left  us 
 an  example,  that  we  should  walk  in  his  steps.  It  is 
 a  pleasant  way,  my  dear  J.  The  peace  of  God 
 descends  upon  the  traveller  who  pursues  the  blessed 
 path.  It  is  “  the  highway  of  holiness and  to  them 
 who  walk  in  it,  God  is  a  sun  and  shade,  a  defence 
 and  deliverance.  He  holds  them  in  his  hand.  He 
 
430 
 
 guides  them  by  his  counsel.  He  receives  them  up 
 to  glory. 
 
 October  12.  I  have  been  begging  to  have  my 
 dross  consumed  and  my  graces  refined,  to  be  filled 
 with  the  spirit  of  Christ,  to  be  clothed  with  humility, 
 to  be  imbued  with  that  spirit  of  benevolence  which 
 shall  make  me  long  and  labour,  in  my  poor  measure, 
 
 for  the  good  of  others,  and  neither  demand  nor  desire 
 any  return. 
 
 I  wish  to  live  in  a  reasonable  independence  of  this 
 world;  to  take  what  my  God  gives  me  thankfully, 
 and  wish  for  nothing  more.  If  I  perceive  attentions 
 once  shown  me  withheld,  not  to  be  disturbed  as  one 
 who  has  placed  her  happiness  in  these  poor  distinc¬ 
 tions  ;  and  to  hold  myself  ready  to  seize  every  favour¬ 
 able  moment,  which  God  presents  to  me,  of  doing 
 good  to  those  who  are  thus  changed,  from  simple  love 
 to  their  souls,  and  to  my  dear  Saviour,  whose  ex¬ 
 ample  I  would  imitate.  I  think  I  do  possess  some¬ 
 thing  of  this  blessed  spirit.  But  I  have  not,  of  late, 
 experienced  so  much  annihilation  of  self,  and  felt  so 
 much  as  if  God  and  his  cause  were  all  to  me,  as  I 
 think  I  have  at  some  former  periods.  Oh  to  pass 
 through  this  world  as  one  whose  hopes  are  on  high  ; 
 and,  whatever  subordinate  objects  I  may  lawfully 
 desire,  to  have  something  better,  something  higher, 
 something  independent  of  all  these  things— that 
 something  which  every  saint  in  heaven  has,  in  whom 
 the  doing  the  will,  and  contemplating  the  perfections, 
 and  promoting  the  glory  of  Jehovah,  enkindle  a  holy 
 happiness,  of  which  the  heart  of  man,  in  this  lower 
 world,  cannot  conceive  !  But  a  measure  of  it  may 
 
431 
 
 be  attained.  And  I  pray  God,  not  to  let  me  find 
 any  rest  in  this  world  which  shall  hinder  me  from 
 resting  in  him.  There  cast  I  the  anchor  of  my  hope. 
 Witness  all  Heaven  !  I  would  renounce  every  thing 
 which  would  unsettle  me  from  this  hold.  Amen, 
 and  amen. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  N. 
 
 Boston ,  November  3,  1822. 
 
 There  is  scarcely  any  thing  more  affecting,  or 
 more  calculated  to  inspire  sympathy,  than  to  behold 
 a  mind,  evidently  imbued  with  Christian  feelings,  and 
 influenced  by  Christian  principles,  struggling,  and 
 suffering,  and  sinking,  under  the  pressure  of  mental 
 despondency.  We  must  all  feel  that  we  are  not  our 
 own  keepers,  that  we  are  fearfully  and  wonderfully 
 made,  and  that  the  causes  which  affect  the  animal 
 spirits  are  so  subtile  in  their  nature,  and  so  complicated 
 in  their  connexions,  as  to  baffle  the  utmost  stretch 
 of  human  sagacity  fully  to  understand  them.  This 
 consideration  ought  to  make  us  constantly  humble, 
 and  excite  us  to  more  vigorous  actings  of  faith  upon 
 Him  who  knoweth  our  frame,  and  is  able  to  keep  or 
 deliver  us  from  temptation.  My  dear  husband  used 
 to  say,  that  he  believed  u  it  was  best  for  some  Chris¬ 
 tians  to  be  under  a  cloud,  and  that  they  grew  in  grace 
 faster  than  they  would  in  other  circumstances.”  But 
 it  is  a  great  privilege  to  go  forward,  in  our  pilgrimage 
 through  this  world,  under  the  clear  shining  of  the  Sun 
 of  Righteousness.  God’s  dealings  with  his  people 
 are  very  various ;  and  it  seems  to  me  a  great  mistake 
 to  suppose,  that  those  are  always  the  best  Christians 
 
432 
 
 who  have  the  most  comfort.  The  natural  effect  of 
 a  close  walk  with  God,  however,  is,  unless  it  be  pre¬ 
 vented  by  some  counteracting  cause,  joy  and  peace, 
 and  the  full  assurance  of  hope  unto  the  end. 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  November  10,  1822. 
 
 The  depression  of  spirits  of  which  you  speak, 
 may,  there  is  no  doubt,  be,  in  most  cases,  traced  im¬ 
 mediately  to  some  cause  connected  with  that  delicate 
 and  subtile  part  of  our  constitution,  called  the  nervous 
 system ;  but,  primarily,  it  is  from  God :  I  do  believe, 
 that  such  a  trial  of  ourselves,  such  an  unsettling  of 
 all  our  strong-holds,  such  a  lesson  of  our  extreme 
 weakness,  and  helplessness,  and  poverty,  is  often  at¬ 
 tended  with  the  most  beneficial  effects.  It  is  indeed 
 like  being  laid  in  the  furnace ;  and  we  are  ready  to 
 fear  we  shall  be  utterly  consumed.  Yet  our  gra¬ 
 cious  God  designs  only  to  consume  the  dross.  We 
 aie  naturally  inclined  to  indulge  a  spirit  of  pride  and 
 independence.  Our  mountain  stands  strong,  and 
 we  think  we  shall  never  be  moved.  This  unholy 
 tendency  of  our  nature  must  be  checked.  We  can 
 grow  in  grace  no  farther  than  we  learn  to  chaw  all 
 our  supplies  from  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  It  is  of 
 his  fulness  that  we  must  receive  grace  for  grace. 
 And  how  shall  we  be  made  to  learn  this  !  Why,  by 
 learning  that  we  are  poor,  and  weak,  and  blind,  and 
 naked;  dependent  on  God,  not  only  for  the  boun¬ 
 ties  of  his  grace  and  providence,  but  for  every  capa¬ 
 city  necessary  to  our  enjoyment  or  improvement  of 
 
433 
 
 them.  And  how  can  we  learn  this  better,  than  by 
 being,  for  a  season,  left  of  God  to  our  own  dark¬ 
 ness  and  helplessness  ?  Who  can  so  well  know  the 
 blessedness  of  that  hope  which  is  an  anchor  to  the 
 soul,  as  the  man  who  has  felt  himself  in  imminent 
 hazard  of  being  shipwrecked  on  the  ocean  of  despair  ? 
 Who  can  feel  so  deeply  as  he,  the  unfathomable 
 riches  of  the  grace  which  has  redeemed  him  ?  Who 
 can  so  fully  understand  the  force  of  those  infinite 
 obligations  which  bind  him  to  be  wholly  the  Lord’s  ? 
 It  is,  I  think,  a  settled  point,  that  whatever  promotes 
 our  growth  in  grace  is  best  for  us.  And  I  suppose 
 we  grow  in  grace  just  in  proportion  as  we  live  simply 
 on  Christ.  Therefore,  whatever  most  effectually 
 humbles  us,  and  keeps  up  in  our  souls  a  practical 
 conviction  of  our  constant  dependence  on  him,  is  best 
 for  us,  though  the  means  may  be  of  such  a  kind  as, 
 in  our  imperfect  apprehension,  may  threaten  us  with 
 destruction. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  A. 
 
 Boston ,  November  17,  1822. 
 
 We  are,  I  think,  in  danger  of  being  deficient  in 
 patience  to  bear  as  we  ought  with  the  faults  of  our 
 children.  4  What!  no  better?  And  this,  after  I 
 have  laboured  so  long  and  so  painfully?’  We  for¬ 
 get  that  temptation  and  constitutional  sins  are  often 
 too  much  for  ourselves,  though  our  minds,  we  hope, 
 are  fortified  by  Christian  principle,  to  the  influence 
 of  which  our  children  are  yet  strangers.  We,  in 
 fact,  expect  our  little  ones  to  exhibit  a  faultlessness 
 which  we  are  far  from  exhibiting.  We  have  not 
 
 T  41 
 
434. 
 
 patience  to  wait  for  God  to  do  his  work  in  his  own 
 time  and  way.  We  want  the  labours,  and  the  watch¬ 
 ings  and  the  mournings,  and  the  disappointments, 
 which  attend  maternal  diligence,  ended  now,— to 
 have  our  children  made,  without  delay,  by  the  imme¬ 
 diate  agency  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  just  what  we  de¬ 
 sire.  And  so  we  ought.  But  this  desire  should 
 not  be  so  inordinate  as  to  prevent  our  labouring  with¬ 
 out  fainting,  though  God  is  pleased  to  withhold  the 
 blessing  till  the  season  of  labour  is  over.  66  The 
 seed  may  spring  up,”  as  one  says,  “  after  the  hand 
 that  planted  it,  and  the  eye  that  watered  it,  are  at 
 rest  in  the  grave.”  I  have  been  greatly  pleased  with 
 the  extracts  from  the  Pastoral  Address  of  the  Gen¬ 
 eral  Association  of  Connecticut,  on  the  religious  edu¬ 
 cation  of  baptized  children,  published  in  some  of  the 
 late  numbers  of  the  Recorder.  When  we  see  our 
 churches  acting  on  the  principles  there  recommended, 
 we  may  hope  for  something  better  than  we  have  ever 
 yet  seen ;  the  children  of  the  church  will  indeed  be 
 a  seed  to  serve  the  Lord. 
 
 I  am  reading  an  excellent  work,  Owen  on  Com¬ 
 munion  with  God.  It  is  full  of  sweet  thoughts  : 
 and,  though  the  style  and  method  are  sometimes 
 rather  obscure,  it  seems  to  give  one  a  deeper  insight 
 into  this  delightful  subject  than  any  thing  I  have  ever 
 read.  Owen  usually  went  to  the  bottom  in  pursuing 
 his  religious  investigations.  It  appears  to  me  that 
 a  thorough  acquaintance  with  one  such  work  as  this, 
 would  do  more  towards  strengthening  the  intellect, 
 and  giving  a  proper  direction  and  balance  to  the  re¬ 
 ligious  feelings,  than  running  over  the  contents  of 
 our  Magazines,  &c.  for  a  year.  I  was  much  inter- 
 
435 
 
 ested,  however,  (for  I  do  not  mean  to  speak  against 
 Magazines,  but  to  keep  them  in  their  proper  place,) 
 in  a  piece  in  the  last  Christian  Spectator,  on  the  pre¬ 
 sent  literary  and  religious  taste  of  the  Christian  world. 
 The  writer  thinks  the  Waverley  Novels  are  having  a 
 deteriorating  influence  on  the  reading  of  Christians ; 
 introducing  among  them  a  class  of  books  which  has 
 generally  been  considered  inadmissible,  and  thus 
 breaking  down,  in  this  respect,  the  boundary  between 
 the  church  and  the  world.*  There  is,  unquestion¬ 
 ably,  much  truth  in  these  remarks.  These  novels, 
 that  is,  the  very  few  I  have  seen,  if  they  are  distin¬ 
 guished  by  the  absence  of  what  is  impure  and  dis¬ 
 gusting,  if  the  scenes  they  describe  are  not  marked 
 by  all  the  extravagances  of  the  old  romance,  if  they 
 do  exhibit  some  masterly  touches  of  character,  are, 
 notwithstanding,  far  from  being  calculated  to  exert 
 an  influence  on  the  reader  favourable,  on  the  whole, 
 to  his  mental  and  moral  improvement.  At  least  it 
 appears  so  to  me. 
 
 December  1.  I  have  prevailingly  felt  more  wean- 
 edness  from  the  world,  and  more  singleness  of  heart 
 toward  God,  for  the  last  two  months,  than  for  some 
 time  before.  I  seem  to  be  desiring  and  looking  for 
 nothing  comparatively,  but  to  stand  in  my  lot,  and 
 be  faithful  in  it,  till  my  redemption  is  accomplished. 
 I  have  indeed  been  a  good  deal  troubled  about  tem¬ 
 poral  things.  66  So  foolish  am  I,  and  ignorant.”  Yet 
 there  have  been  granted  me  some  sweet  manifesta- 
 
 *  See  Christian  Spectator,  vol.  iv.  p.  561.  Some  judicious  re¬ 
 marks  on  the  same  subject  may  also  be  seen  in  vol.  vii.  p.  80. 
 
 T  2 
 
436 
 
 tions  from  Him  who  is  the  light  and  life,  the  rock 
 and  refuge,  of  my  soul,  which  have  made  me  ashamed 
 of  myself,  and  filled  me  with  hope  and  joy. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  A. 
 
 Boston ,  December  2,  1822. 
 
 It  is  a  settled  principle  with  me,  never  to  doubt 
 the  love  of  old  friends,  unless  I  have  some  evidence 
 which  compels  me  to  do  so.  And  in  your  case,  my 
 dear  E.  it  would  require  something  far  more  unequivo¬ 
 cal  than  a  silence  much  longer  than  the  last.  Writ¬ 
 ing,  however,  like  almost  every  thing  else,  becomes 
 pleasant  or  painful  by  habit.  And,  though  married 
 ladies  should  never  neglect  more  necessary  duties  for 
 it,  and,  of  course,  cannot  be  expected  to  practise  it 
 as  much  as  others,  I  think  they  should  exert  them¬ 
 selves  not  to  neglect  it  altogether.  It  is  an  innocent 
 source  of  enjoyment.  It  has  a  tendency,  moreover, 
 to  turn  off  the  current  of  the  thoughts  and  affections 
 from  the  usual  track,  which  is  an  advantage,  as  there 
 can  be  no  doubt  that  a  happy  domestic  connexion  is 
 liable  to  become  the  occasion  of  an  exclusiveness  of 
 interest  and  affection,  very  unfavourable  to  the  ex¬ 
 pansion  of  the  intellectual  powers,  and  of  the  bene¬ 
 volent  feelings. 
 
 Never,  my  beloved  friend,  apologize  for  speaking 
 so  much  to  me  of  your  children.  What  subject  can 
 be  so  interesting  to  a  parent  ?  And  whatever  relates 
 to  your  little  ones  is  peculiarly  a  matter  of  interest 
 to  me.  \  ou  ask  my  opinion,  and  I  give  it,  because 
 I  love  you  and  them.  But  I  daily  feel  the  need  of 
 being  instructed  myself. 
 
437 
 
 In  regard  to  visiting ,  I  have  considered  it,  espe¬ 
 cially  at  an  early  age,  a  great  disadvantage.  Nothing 
 can  be  done  in  managing  children  without  regularity. 
 Habits  are  of  the  utmost  importance ;  and  it  is  im¬ 
 possible  to  establish  habits,  (unless  they  be  bad  ones, 
 which  will  form  and  strengthen  in  any  circumstances,) 
 if  children  are  much  from  home.  There  are  few  per¬ 
 sons  who  will  regulate  your  child,  in  any  particular, 
 as  you  would  yourself.  The  best  will  not  be  as 
 watchful  what  impressions  she  receives,  what  dispo¬ 
 sitions  she  manifests,  and  what  liberties  she  takes. 
 Nor  is  this  all.  It  is  scarcely  possible,  if  she  visit 
 much,  to  prevent  her  being  under  an  influence,  in 
 some  respects,  and  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  adverse 
 to  much  that  you  may  do  for  her  at  home.  Vanity 
 will  be  flattered,  or  selfishness  strengthened,  or  im¬ 
 patience  and  perverseness  indulged.  As  children 
 grow  older,  I  think  it  is  an  advantage  for  them  to 
 visit  occasionally.  It  improves  their  manners,  and 
 gives  them  the  habit  of  depending  a  little  on  them¬ 
 selves.  You  perceive  I  refer  to  their  visiting  with¬ 
 out  their  parents.  There  is  more  difficulty  in  making 
 children  contented  at  home,  if  they  form  a  taste  for 
 going  abroad;  the  formation  of  such  a  taste  should 
 therefore  be  avoided.  Has  not  E.  a  little  sister 
 large  enough  to  play  with  ?  I  like  a  baby-house  for 
 little  girls,  all  that  some  sensible  people  have  said  to 
 the  contrary  notwithstanding.  They  may  have  a 
 closet,  or  part  of  one,  entirely  to  themselves,  and  the 
 arrangement  and  order  of  it  be  entrusted  to  their  care. 
 If  they  are  required  to  keep  it  tidy  and  neat,  it  will 
 be  employment  and  amusement  for  them.  As  soon 
 as  children  are  old  enough  to  understand  what  they 
 
438 
 
 read,  the  difficulty  of  amusing  them  lessens.  And 
 I  think  it  is  desirable  to  accustom  them,  as  soon  as 
 may  be,  to  assist  in  doing  what  they  can,  that  they 
 may  learn  the  pleasure  of  being  useful.  To  fold  up 
 the  baby’s  cradle  clothes,  or  pick  up  the  threads  on 
 the  carpet,  or  any  thing  else,  however  trivial,  is  some¬ 
 thing  important  for  a  child  to  do,  if  it  inspires  the 
 love  of  industry,  and  makes  her  experience  the  hap¬ 
 piness  of  doing  good. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  B. 
 
 Bosto?i,  December  5,  1822. 
 ^°u,  my  dear  H.  have  had  the  other  world 
 brought  near  to  you  by  sickness.  How  did  it  seem  ? 
 I  have  had  it  brought  near  to  me  by  affliction ;  and 
 the  thought  of  being  with  Christ  is  generally  very 
 refreshing  to  me.  But  you  know  the  constitutional 
 timidity  of  my  nature.  This  causes  me  sometimes 
 to  fear,  that  in  that  awful  hour  in  which  I  shall  be 
 called  to  enter  the  dark  valley,  the  weakness  of  my 
 faith,  or  the  overwhelming  remembrance  of  past 
 transgressions,  or  the  temptations  of  the  accuser  of 
 the  brethren,  or  all  these  together,  may  prevail  to 
 unsettle  my  hold  on  Christ,  the  only  bulwark  against 
 perdition,  and  plunge  me  into  a  darkness  which  may 
 be  felt.  I  have  a  mind  much  disposed  to  this.  When 
 faith  is  not  in  exercise  now ,  all  seems  to  be  gone. 
 In  severe  sickness,  I  should  think,  there  would  often 
 be  such  a  depression  of  all  the  faculties,  as  to  prevent 
 their  being  distinctly,  if  not  to  prevent  their  being 
 rationally,  exercised  upon  any  subject.  A  naked 
 trust  in  the  Saviour  of  sinners  would  then  be  indis- 
 
439 
 
 pensable.  Nothing  else,  surely,  could  uphold  the 
 spirit  in  her  passage  through  these  deep  waters. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  ANDOVER. 
 
 Boston ,  January  5,  1823. 
 
 Thank  you,  my  dear - ,  for  your  note,  and 
 
 for  the  pleasing  intelligence  that  several  of  the  students 
 in  the  Academy  appear  to  be  deeply  impressed  with 
 the  reality  and  importance  of  eternal  things.  That 
 God  is  striving  with  them  by  his  Spirit,  is  cause 
 for  abundant  gratitude  and  thanksgiving.  That  the 
 anxiety  thus  produced  may  wear  away  without  a  change 
 of  character,  is  a  consideration  furnishing  strong  rea¬ 
 son  why  that  gratitude  and  thanksgiving  should  be 
 mingled  with  deep  humiliation  and  godly  fear.  Yet, 
 blessed  be  God,  such  impressions,  though  not  imme¬ 
 diately  issuing  in  conversion,  often  repeated,  while 
 the  process  of  God’s  mercy  in  preparing  the  heart 
 for  his  effectual  calling  is  gradually  going  forward,  is, 
 
 I  believe,  a  frequent  mode  in  which  the  divine  mercy 
 is  manifested  and  extended,  especially  to  the  children 
 of  believers.  But  when  this  is  not  the  case,  such 
 impressions  generally  leave  them  harder  and  worse 
 than  they  do  other  persons,  on  account  of  the  greater 
 light  resisted. 
 
 As  to  my  dear  boy,  I  think  the  Lord  knows  that 
 I  have  given  him  to  Him.  If  I  have  ever  performed 
 any  religious  duty,  I  have  done  this ;  making  no  con¬ 
 ditions  as  to  circumstances,  ways,  means,  services,  or 
 any  of  these  things.  My  prevailing  belief,  and  my 
 comforting  expectation  is,  that  God,  who  has  himself 
 put  these  desires  into  my  heart,  will  accept  of  what 
 
440 
 
 he  has  enabled  and  constrained  me  to  do.  As  to 
 desert ,  when  I  cast  my  eyes  there,  all  is  darkness  and 
 hopelessness.  But  “  the  gift  of  God  is  eternal  life  ” 
 to  all  who  will  accept  it ;  and  this  free  gift,  which  is 
 offered,  not  only  without  recompense,  but  against  un¬ 
 mingled  ill-desert,  this  gift  I  think  I  have  taken  as 
 my  portion,  and  the  portion  of  mine,  for  ever,  above, 
 and,  so  far  as  God  pleases,  against  every  thing  beside. 
 
 Of  the  pleasing  state  of  things  here,  in  a  religious 
 point  of  view,  you  have  doubtless  heard.  The  Lord 
 does  seem,  indeed,  to  be  about  to  revive  his  work. 
 The  number  of  inquirers  in  our  society  has  very  much 
 increased,  and  many  of  them  appear  to  be  deeply  in 
 earnest  in  seeking  the  salvation  of  their  souls.  There 
 is  also  more  than  usual  attention  to  religion  in  the 
 Park  Street  and  Essex  Street  congregations.  Meet¬ 
 ings  are  highly  interesting, — unusually  full  and  so¬ 
 lemn.  Many,  especially  of  the  young,  are  turning 
 their  faces  towards  Zion.  Rejoice  with  us,  and  pray 
 for  us. 
 
 TO  HER  SON  AT  ANDOVER. 
 
 Boston ,  January  13,  1823. 
 
 My  dear  J.  the  imagination  that  religion  will  make 
 them  unhappy,  is  one  of  the  most  common,  and  one 
 of  the  most  successful,  temptations  which  the  adver¬ 
 sary  of  souls  employs  with  people,  especially  with 
 the  young,  to  induce  them  to  delay  and  delay  the 
 business  of  attending  to  their  salvation,  till  it  is  too 
 late  to  attend  to  it  at  all.  One  of  the  first  religious 
 exercises  I  remember,  (I  was  not  more  than  three 
 years  old,)  was  a  solemn  consultation  in  my  mind, 
 
441 
 
 whether  it  was  best  to  become  a  Christian  then  or 
 not.  If  I  did  not,  I  thought  I  was  in  a  dangerous 
 state.  But  then  if  I  did, — why,  I  should  never  have 
 any  more  comfort  in  this  world.  I  must  never 
 laugh,  never  play,  never  enjoy  myself ;  but  be  always 
 solemn,  and  dull,  and  gloomy.  The  result  was,  that 
 I  concluded  it  not  best  to  be  a  Christian  yet.  But, 
 blessed  be  God  !  he  pursued  me  with  his  grace,  as  I 
 humbly  hope,  so  that  I  found  there  could  be  no  hap¬ 
 piness,  no  comfort,  while  God  and  I  were  enemies. 
 He  broke  up  the  enchantment  of  Satan,  and  showed 
 me  that  these  dreams  and  plans  of  earthly  delight  were 
 all  false  and  fatal,  and  held  up  to  me  by  the  enemy 
 of  my  soul  to  cheat  me  to  perdition. 
 
 What  pleasures  will  religion  deprive  you  of,  my 
 son  ?  May  you  not  play  just  as  innocently,  and  with 
 more  satisfaction,  with  religion  than  without  it  ?  De¬ 
 pend  upon  it,  religion  will  not  debar  you  from  any 
 reasonable  and  lawful  pleasure.  All  that  it  forbids 
 you  is  sin.  And  do  you  wish  for  a  license  to  sin 
 comfortably  ?  God  forbid.  Every  Christian  will  tell 
 you  that  the  law  of  God,  which  it  is  his  delight  to 
 obey,  leaves  open  to  him  the  enjoyment  of  all  those 
 innocent  comforts  connected  with  our  situation  in  this 
 world  as  men,  which  his  own  mercy  has  so  amply 
 provided  for  us,  and  provided  that  they  may  be  used. 
 You  have  known  me  long,  my  J.  and  been  more  ca¬ 
 pable  of  observing  me  since  your  dear  father’s  death. 
 Does  religion  deprive  me  of  any  pleasures  ?  Does 
 it  diminish  my  enjoyment?  No;  my  dear  child? 
 To  the  honour  and  glory  of  my  blessed  Lord,  let  me 
 tell  you,  it  was  this  which  held  up  my  soul  when 
 passing  through  the  deep  waters,  where  there  was 
 
 t  3 
 
4  42 
 
 no  standing ;  which  enabled  me  to  rejoice  in  God, 
 and  to  feel  that,  although  my  earthly  prospects  were 
 shrouded  in  darkness,  all  was  safe,  all  was  well ;  which 
 has  enabled  me  sometimes  to  feel,  that,  though  the 
 whole  creation  were  shivered  to  atoms,  and  mingled 
 together  in  one  universal  wreck,  I  should  still  find 
 all  to  be  safe  and  well.  I  have  given  you  to  God, 
 and  I  do  so  every  day.  You  must,  my  dear  boy, 
 be  his  servant;  and  you  shall  find  his  service  perfect 
 freedom. 
 
 TO  THE  SAME. 
 
 Boston ,  January  18,  1823. 
 
 My  beloved  child,  you  have  scarcely  been  out  of 
 my  mind  to-day.  I  have  had  great  sorrow,  and  con¬ 
 tinual  heaviness  of  heart,  lest  the  present  season  of 
 special  mercy  to  the  Academy  should  pass  away,  and 
 you  remain  out  of  Christ.  I  have  had  more  earnest 
 wrestlings  of  spirit  for  you  of  late  than  ever  before. 
 God  encourages  me  to  wait  upon  him,  with  crying 
 and  many  tears  for  you,  my  Son.  He  encourages 
 me  to  desire  great  things,  and  to  hope  great  things. 
 Oh  that  this  may  prove  to  you  the  accepted  time, 
 and  the  day  of  salvation  ! 
 
 Do  you  ask  me,  what  you  must  do  ?  I  answer, 
 Give  yourself  to  Christ.  Make  a  solemn  resolution 
 to  reject  all  offers  of  comfort  which  this  world  holds 
 out  to  you,  till  you  obtain  evidence  that  you  have 
 done  this.  Resolve  to  take  no  rest,  no  peace,  till 
 you  have  given  yourself  to  Christ.  Depend  upon 
 it,  he  will  receive  you.  He  says,  <6  Him  that  cometh 
 unto  me,  I  will  in  nowise  cast  out.”  He  will  forgive 
 
443 
 
 you ;  he  will  wash  away  the  pollutions  and  defilements 
 of  sin ;  he  will  make  you  a  saint  and  a  son. 
 
 You  are  descended,  my  dear  J.  from  a  long  line 
 of  ancestors  on  both  sides,  who  were  pious,  and  have 
 finished  their  course,  and  gone  to  their  gracious  re¬ 
 ward.  Your  dear  father  early  declared  himself  for 
 Christ.  Your  unworthy  mother  was  early,  as  she 
 hopes,  brought  to  devote  herself  to  Christ.  On 
 which  side  will  you  be — that  of  God,  or  of  Satan 
 and  the  world?  “  Choose  you  this  day  whom  you 
 will  serve.”  If  the  Lord  is  to  be  your  God,  then 
 follow  him.  If  the  world, — but  no,  I  cannot  make 
 such  a  supposition.  You  are  the  Lord’s.  His  vows 
 are  upon  you.  You  must  not  go  back.  Turn  your 
 face  full  toward  Zion.  Keep  that  light  in  view. 
 Let  your  face  be  always  towards  heaven.  In  all  your 
 smugglings,  struggle  to  get  nearer  and  nearer  to  the 
 gate  of  the  heavenly  city.  Run  and  you  shall  ob¬ 
 tain.  God  help  you  to  do  so,  and  you  are  blessed 
 for  ever.  Amen,  and  amen. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  W. 
 
 Boston ,  January  19,  1823. 
 
 To  speak  of  one’s  children  is  much  the  same 
 thing  as  to  speak  of  one’s  self;  and  to  say,  “  I  have 
 a  sensible,”  or  66  an  amiable,”  or  “  an  interesting 
 child,”  carries  with  it  all  the  repulsiveness  of  sell- 
 commendation.  There  are,  moreover,  few  persons, 
 comparatively,  who  have  benevolence  enough  to  hear 
 such  a  frank  declaration  of  the  virtuous  dispositions 
 and  desires  which  we  are  conscious  of,  or  which  we 
 
444 
 
 know  to  exist  in  our  children,  as  circumstances  may 
 sometimes  perfectly  justify,  without  making  a  bad  use 
 of  it.  I  have  been  grieved  and  shocked  at  the  ex¬ 
 hibitions  of  character  I  have  sometimes  met  with  in 
 regard  to  this  thing.  Perhaps  the  sentiments  of  the 
 parent  respecting  her  child  have  been  dexterously 
 elicited,  by  a  show  of  affection  and  interest ;  and  the 
 remarks,  made  in  humility  and  in  confidence,  have 
 been  the  occasion  of  much  ungenerous  animadversion 
 upon  the  character  of  the  child,  and  oftener  still  on 
 the  management  of  the  parent.  If  you  have  never 
 seen  any  thing  of  this  sort,  you  have  been  peculiarly 
 fortunate.  A  judicious  parent  may  see  the  faults  of 
 her  own  children  much  more  distinctly  than  she  can 
 possibly  see  those  of  other  children.  And  to  con¬ 
 clude  that  a  parent  does  not,  or  cannot,  see  the  faults 
 of  her  child,  because  she  does  not  speak  of  them,  is, 
 to  say  the  least,  very  bad  reasoning.  I  suppose  it 
 is  best,  ordinarily,  not  to  speak  much  of  our  own  faults 
 or  virtues,  nor  of  the  faults  or  virtues  of  our  children 
 or  our  friends,  unless  some  good  is,  on  the  whole, 
 likely  to  result  from  it. 
 
 As  to  the  question  you  ask  respecting  private  in¬ 
 struction  and  attending  school,  I  do  not  feel  perfectly 
 qualified  to  answer  you,  as  I  have  not  had  experience 
 of  both.  I  think,  however,  there  are  disadvantages 
 attending  each  method.  There  is  certainly  great 
 hazard  in  turning  out  an  unformed  and  comparatively 
 innocent  young  creature,  to  mingle  with  the  indis¬ 
 criminate  mass  of  children  who  usually  attend  school. 
 Bvery  parent  who  has  sent  his  children  to  school, 
 must  have  perceived  the  alteration  which  appears  in 
 them  upon  first  taking  this  step :  at  least  it  must  be 
 
445 
 
 very  common.  It  is  certain  that,  in  itself,  the  influ¬ 
 ence  of  such  a  mixture  must  be  bad,  and  this  bad 
 influence  will  be  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  im¬ 
 morality  in  the  scholars.  But  then,  there  are  disad¬ 
 vantages  in  being  educated  at  home.  Unless  the 
 mother  has  uncommon  health,  the  confinement  it  will 
 occasion  her  will  be  very  injurious  to  her  constitution  ; 
 and  unless  her  talent  for  government  is  peculiarly  ex¬ 
 cellent,  the  perpetual  recurrence  of  occasions  in  which 
 it  is  necessary  for  her  to  exert  authority,  will  be  likely 
 gradually  to  weaken  the  habit  of  obedience,  and  the 
 sense  of  obligation  in  the  children.  Children  edu¬ 
 cated  at  home  are  apt  to  fall  into  desultory  habits. 
 The  tediousness  of  study,  unassisted  and  unenlivened 
 by  any  excitement  resulting  from  companionship,  must 
 be  felt  to  be  great.  I  suppose  the  mind  expands, 
 much  in  proportion  to  the  degree  in  which  it  is  acted 
 upon  by  the  objects  about  it,  and  the  circumstances 
 in  which  it  is  placed.  If  this  be  true,  though  the 
 character  of  a  child  nurtured  by  itself  may  be  more 
 free  from  faults  than  that  of  another  accustomed  to 
 associates,  it  may  also  be  less  marked  with  strong  and 
 striking  virtues.  If  there  is  not  so  much  to  censure, 
 there  may  be  less  to  approve.  Upon  the  whole,  much 
 depends  upon  the  character  of  the  child,  and  very  much 
 upon  the  character  of  the  school  to  which  it  is  pro¬ 
 posed  to  send  him.  I  have  no  doubt,  that  some  chil¬ 
 dren  do  a  great  deal  better  to  attend  a  good  school, 
 than  they  would  to  be  instructed  at  home. 
 
446 
 
 TO  MRS.  S.  AT  BRIDGEWATER. 
 
 Boston ,  February  23,  1823. 
 
 My  dear  Mrs.  S.  I  wish  I  was  where  I  could  look 
 in  upon  you  a  few  moments,  as  I  did  last  summer. 
 Your  pleasant  chamber,  and  its  lonely  and  sorrowful 
 occupant,  are  not  forgotten.  Lonely  and  sorrowful 
 I  know  you  must  be.  A  summer’s  sun  has  long 
 since  dried  the  green  sod  which  covers  the  grave  of 
 Mary,  and  a  winter’s  snows  have  been  settling  on 
 and  hiding  the  place  where  she  sleeps;  but  your 
 tears  are  not  dried,  your  grief  cannot  be  suppressed. 
 Alas !  I  know  it  is  so ;  and  the  gloomy  and  desolate 
 face  of  nature  at  this  season  speaks  in  language  which 
 goes  to  your  very  soul,  of  all  you  have  loved  and 
 have  lost.  Miserable  indeed  are  human  comfort¬ 
 ers.  I  cannot  tell  you  not  to  mourn.  I  cannot  tell 
 you  your  loss  is  common ;  for  where  will  you  find 
 another  daughter,  another  Mary,  till  you  meet  her 
 in  heaven  ?  She  was  in  a  sense  your  all ;  and  she 
 is  not,  for  God  hath  taken  her. 
 
 Perhaps  to  write  in  this  strain  is  not  wise.  If  it 
 has  given  you  pain,  forgive  me.  Yet  there  is  some¬ 
 thing  in  this  train  of  thought  that  is  pleasing.  If 
 it  occasions  grief,  it  seems  like  the  46  joy  of  grief.” 
 The  heart  sometimes  loves  to  give  itself  up  to  a 
 sense  of  its  own  desolation;  and,  while  it  dwells  on 
 the  remembrance  of  what  it  once  so  tenderly  loved, 
 cherishes  every  fond  recollection,  and  desires  to 
 cherish  it  for  ever.  If  our  friends  are  not  here, 
 where  are  they  ?  If  in  all  this  wide  world  we  shall 
 never  meet  again — if  we  cast  our  look  forward,  and 
 
447 
 
 behold  nothing  but  the  fearful  chasm  we  shudder  to 
 contemplate — the  chasm  opened  by  the  loss  of  these 
 dear  ones,  and  opened  never  to  be  filled — is  all  lost? 
 No,  they  are  not  lost,  but  only  taken  over  into  the 
 world  of  spirits  a  little  before  us.  We  are  on  the 
 threshold.  A  few  more  summers  and  winters,  per¬ 
 haps  a  few  more  months  or  days  only,  and  we  shall 
 follow  them.  The  great  concern  then  is,  to  be 
 faithful.  We  must  not  expect  heaven  here.  Our 
 great  business  in  this  world  is  to  do  and  suffer  all 
 our  Lord’s  will,  as  good  and  loyal  subjects,  as  loving 
 and  obedient  children.  Rest  is  no  where  promised 
 on  earth.  fiC  Be  thou  faithful  unto  death ,  and  I  will 
 give  thee  a  crown  of  life.”  The  presumptuous,” 
 says  one,  (t  expect  great  success  here,  and  heaven 
 hereafter.” 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  B. 
 
 Boston ,  February  26,  1823. 
 
 I  might  tell  you  much  about  my  own  stupidity. 
 In  general,  however,  these  complaints  are  not  use¬ 
 ful.  As  there  is  neither  merit  nor  humility  in  be¬ 
 ing  in  a  dead,  carnal  state,  there  certainly  can  be 
 none  in  our  saying  we  are  in  such  a  state.  Neither 
 does  our  talking  about  our  barrenness,  &c.  make  us 
 any  better.  And  I  have  sometimes  thought,  we 
 encourage  each  other  in  a  feeble  and  stinted  growth 
 in  grace,  by  a  mutual  disclosure  of  sins  and  short¬ 
 comings,  which  leaves  the  impression  that  we  are 
 pretty  much  like  other  Christians.  Bold  and  for¬ 
 ward  professions  are  always  suspicious;  yet,  in  or¬ 
 dinary  cases,  if  the  Christian  is  in  the  lively  exer- 
 
448 
 
 cise  of  grace,  he  will  be  likely  to  have  the  peace  and 
 comfort  of  such  a  state,  and  such  an  humble  convic¬ 
 tion  resulting  from  tried  evidence,  that  he  actually 
 is  in  that  state,  as  will  remove  distressing  doubt. 
 
 Sin  always  clouds  our  evidences.  It  must  be  so. 
 But  it  is  not  sin  felt  and  resisted,  but  sin  trifled  with, 
 sin  allowed,  encouraged,  that  spreads  the  gloom  of 
 spiritual  despondency  over  our  souls.  There  are 
 those  who  have  no  experimental  knowledge  of  the 
 evil  of  sin,  or  of  its  existence  in  their  hearts,  and  yet 
 think  they  are  Christians.  These  may  habitually 
 have  an  assurance  of  hope.  But  how  utterly  worth¬ 
 less  is  it !  Yet  I  believe  there  is  an  humble  <fi  quiet¬ 
 ness  and  assurance,”  which  rests  on  another  founda¬ 
 tion  ;  which,  while  it  is  accompanied  with  the  deep¬ 
 est  sense  of  sin,  is  able  to  appeal  to  God,  that  all  sin 
 is  hated  and  resisted ;  and  which  looks  away  to  Him 
 whose  blood  cleanseth,  with  full  confidence  in  his 
 mercy. 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  Y. 
 
 Boston ,  March  9,  1823. 
 
 Acute  pain,  I  have  often  thought,  occasions  less 
 prostration  of  mind  than  extreme  weakness  without 
 much  pain.  In  the  one  case,  suffering  seems  to 
 rouse  the  mind  to  action — the  action  felt  to  be  ne¬ 
 cessary  to  meet  a  positive  and  distinctly  apprehended 
 evil;  in  the  other,  the  mind  seems  left  without  ex¬ 
 citements,  to  sink  into  a  listlessness  bordering  on  in¬ 
 anity.  There  is  great  resignation  in  being  willing, 
 from  the  regard  to  the  will  of  God  which  has  made 
 it  necessary,  to  feel  ourselves  good  for  nothing,  with- 
 
449 
 
 out  even  that  sense  of  heroism  which  sometimes  at¬ 
 tends  what  we  consider  suffering  with  magnanimity. 
 And,  whatever  the  world  may  think  of  it,  this  hum¬ 
 ble,  quiet,  child-like  willingness  to  submit  ourselves 
 entirely  to  the  will  of  God,  to  feel  that  we  are  poor, 
 and  weak,  and  worthless,  and  not  worthy  of  the 
 Master’s  use,  is  a  grace  of  the  highest  price  in  the 
 eyes  of  Him  who  seeth  not  as  man  seeth. 
 
 The  animal  spirits  are  very  apt  to  sink  when  the 
 body  has  been  long  enfeebled.  And  then  the  soul 
 is  apt  to  get  into  darkness,  because  the  spirits  have 
 sunk.  It  is  commonly  regarded  as  an  unfavourable 
 sign  when  sickness  renders  the  soul  less  comfortable. 
 But  the  natural  effect  of  sickness  is  certainly  to  de¬ 
 press  the  feelings ;  and  in  this  there  is  no  moral 
 evil.  It  is  the  necessary  consequence  of  the  con¬ 
 nexion  which  exists  between  our  bodies  and  souls. 
 God  does  indeed,  by  the  special  communications  of 
 his  grace,  often,  perhaps  usually,  in  the  case  of  his 
 children,  counteract  this  tendency ;  but  not  always. 
 No  doubt  he  sometimes  sees  it  best  for  the  Christian, 
 and  absolutely  necessary  to  his  self-acquaintance  and 
 effectual  humiliation,  to  leave  him  without  the  com¬ 
 forting  influences  of  his  grace,  and  the  sweet  con¬ 
 sciousness  of  his  love,  which  would  cause  him  to 
 rejoice  in  the  midst  of  sorrow.  But  the  Lord  cer¬ 
 tainly  knows  best  what  to  do  with  us ;  and  it  is  the 
 office  of  faith  to  trust  him  at  all  times, — to  trust 
 him  when  our  frame  is  languid  and  our  comforts  few, 
 as  well  as  when  our  health  is  vigorous  and  our  con¬ 
 solations  abound.  Nothing  should  hinder  our  trust¬ 
 ing  in  him,  and  hoping  in  his  mercy.  Faith  has  re¬ 
 spect  to  Christ,  as  the  only  ground  of  our  acceptance 
 
450 
 
 with  God,  and,  so  far  as  it  is  in  exercise,  looks  away 
 from  all  that  is  in  the  soul,  or  ever  has  been,  or  ever 
 can  be,  as  having  any  thing  to  do,  as  a  meritorious 
 cause,  in  the  matter  of  justification.  Does  Satan 
 plead  against  us — sin,  and  darkness,  and  doubt,  back¬ 
 sliding,  rebellion,  and  treachery  to  our  own  souls  ? 
 Faith  answers,  True,  all  true:  I  am  a  sinner;  and, 
 on  this  broad  ground,  I  am  warranted  to  go  to  that 
 Saviour  who  died  for  sinners,  and  who  has  said, 
 “  Look  unto  me,  and  be  ye  saved,  all  the  ends  of  the 
 earth.” 
 
 TO  HER  SON  AT  ANDOVER. 
 
 Boston ,  March  9,  1823. 
 
 Young  people  are  apt  to  imbibe  wrong  notions 
 on  religious  subjects.  For  instance,  if  there  is  not 
 as  much  attention  to  religion  in  the  Academy  now, 
 as  there  was  last  term,  perhaps  you  may  be  thinking 
 you  are  not  as  pressingly  obligated  to  seek  the  salva¬ 
 tion  of  your  soul  now  as  then.  This  is  wrong. 
 What  difference  can  it  make  in  your  duty,  whether 
 any  other  person  is  seeking  Christ  or  not  ?  What 
 is  that  to  you  ?  Are  you  not  bound  to  love  God, 
 and  yield  yourself  to  his  service?  Is  not  this  the 
 end  for  which  you  were  created?  Would  it  cease 
 to  be  your  duty,  if  in  all  this  wide  world  you  could 
 not  find  one  solitary  Christian  ?  Certainly  not.  It 
 is  therefore  as  urgent  a  duty  for  you  to  give  your¬ 
 self  to  God  this  term  as  it  was  the  last ;  yea,  it  is 
 even  more  urgent  than  it  was  then. 
 
 Since  I  began  tbis  letter,  Mr.  D.  has  called,  and 
 communicated  to  me  the  affecting  intelligence  of  the 
 
451 
 
 death  of  Mrs.  C.*  But  who  could  wish  her  back 
 in  this  world  of  sin  and  sorrow,  if  her  work  was 
 finished,  and  she  has  gone  to  Him,  who  went  to 
 heaven,  after  he  had  finished  his  work,  to  prepare 
 places  for  all  who  love  him  ?  This  is  another  solemn 
 call  to  you,  my  son.  Listen  to  the  still  small  voice, 
 which  speaks  to  you  from  the  world  of  spirits,  “  Be 
 thou  also  ready.”  Look  at  the  grave  of  her  who 
 was  so  lately  with  you;  and  remember,  you  must 
 soon  follow.  Think  of  your  father,  cut  off  in  the 
 very  midst  of  his  days.  Think  of  that  sweet,  sweet 
 brother :  how  like  a  flower  he  sprung  up,  and  put 
 forth  the  early  blossoms  of  beauty  and  intelligence ; 
 alas ;  soon  to  be  withered,  and  smitten  by  the  hand 
 of  death.  Beloved  child,  removed,  as  I  humbly 
 trust,  from  this  rough  and  dangerous  world,  to  a  state 
 of  eternal  safety,  before  bitter  experience  had  taught 
 him  his  danger  or  his  weakness  !  Think  of  them, 
 my  J.  and  let  the  thought  inspire  you  with  a  holy 
 resolution,  to  set  your  feet  on  every  obstacle  which 
 lies  in  your  way  to  the  heaven  whither  they  have 
 gone.  Think  of  them — and  rouse  yourself  up  to  be 
 a  diligent  and  faithful  follower  of  those  who,  through 
 faith  and  patience,  have  inherited  the  promises.  Yes, 
 my  beloved  child,  I  hope  to  meet  you  in  heaven. 
 Were  it  not  for  this  hope,  my  days  would  be  bitter 
 and  comfortless  days,  and  I  should  soon  go  down  to 
 the  grave  in  sorrow. 
 
 The  lady  with  whom  Mrs.  Huntington’s  son  boarded. 
 
 * 
 
452 
 
 TO  THE  SAME. 
 
 Boston ,  March  23,  1823. 
 
 I  wish  you  to  cultivate  feelings  of  kindness  to¬ 
 ward  your  schoolmates.  Be  not  over  vigilant  to 
 detect  the  shades  and  weaknesses  in  their  characters. 
 All  are  imperfect ;  and  you  should  extend  to  others 
 the  same  forbearance  you  expect  from  them.  Sin 
 I  never  wish  you  to  palliate  or  excuse,  either  in 
 yourself  or  in  others.  Yet  there  are  little  vexatious 
 qualities  in  some  people,  which,  though  not  per¬ 
 haps  positively  sinful,  are  very  uncomfortable  and 
 troublesome  to  those  who  come  in  contact  with  them. 
 These  little  things  you  should  try  to  overlook. 
 And  you  should  not  judge  too  severely  those  who  do 
 things,  sometimes,  which  are  really  wrong.  If  the 
 settled  habits  of  a  boy  are  wrong,  I  desire  you  not 
 to  excuse  his  faults.  But  you  may  still  entertain 
 feelings  of  benevolence  towards  him.  Remember 
 that  others  have  much  to  overlook  in  you.  Be  kind, 
 be,  obliging,  be  forgiving,  even  as  you  hope  for  for¬ 
 giveness  from  God.  But  when  urged  to  do  what 
 you  know  to  be  wrong,  be  firm,  resolute,  decided. 
 While  you  choose  only  the  best  boys  for  your  com¬ 
 panions,  labour  after  the  exercise  of  those  Christian 
 feelings  which  shall  cause  you  to  wish  well  to  the 
 worst. 
 
 The  account  you  give  me  of - ,  and  some 
 
 others,  is  very  painful.  But  it  has  always  been  so. 
 There  will  be  stony-ground  hearers,  and  other  hear¬ 
 ers,  upon  whom  the  people  of  God  bestow  labour 
 in  vain.  Yet  this  no  more  proves  that  all  are  un- 
 
453 
 
 fruitful,  than  a  cloudy  day  proves  that  there  is  no 
 sun.  Oh,  it  is  heart-rending  to  see  poor  sinners 
 turning  back  to  this  world,  which  is  passing  away, 
 and  will  soon  be  destroyed,  after  they  have  appeared 
 to  set  out  in  earnest  to  seek  something  better  !  My 
 dear  J.  I  earnestly  long  to  have  you  become  a 
 Christian  indeed.  God  calls  to  you,  66  My  son, 
 give  me  thine  heart.”  Will  you,  oh  will  you  not 
 comply  ? 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  M. 
 
 Boston ,  April  27,  1823. 
 
 Dr. - preached  for  us  to-day,  from  Rom. 
 
 v.  1.  <£  Therefore,  being  justified  by  faith,  we  have 
 peace  with  God,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.” 
 1.  What  is  meant  by  being  justified.  2.  How  the 
 sinner  can  be  justified.  3.  The  nature  of  the  faith 
 which  justifies.  4.  The  evidences  of  being  justified. 
 His  exhortations  and  appeals  at  the  close  of  his  ser¬ 
 mon,  especially  to  those  who  are  expecting  to  be 
 justified  in  some  way  different  from  that  which  God 
 has  appointed,  were  convincing  and  powerful.  Yet 
 some  are  offended  at  this  plain  dealing !  This  is, 
 however,  to  be  expected.  The  peculiarities  of  the 
 gospel  will  he  met  with  all  the  opposition,  and  all 
 the  objections,  of  inveterate  aversion  and  determined 
 hostility  from  the  men  of  the  world.  The  offence 
 of  the  cross,  were  the  doctrines  of  the  cross  more 
 fully  insisted  on,  would  appear  to  be  no  mere  dream 
 of  the  enthusiast.  But  any  thing  is  better  than 
 death ;  and  to  see  people  offended  at  the  truth,  is 
 less  discouraging  than  to  see  them,  under  its  faithful 
 
 O  O  J 
 
454 
 
 exhibition,  feel  nothing  at  all.  The  dismal  quietness 
 of  spiritual  slumber  must  be  broken.  People  must 
 be  convinced  that  the  peace  they  have  so  long  and 
 so  complacently  rested  in,  is  the  peace  of  ignorance, 
 of  apathy,  and  of  destructive  indifference  to  every 
 thing  peculiarly  Christian.  And  I  do  believe  that 
 a  work  of  grace  is  begun  here,  the  blessed  effects  of 
 which  will  be  felt  to  future  generations.  God  is  in 
 the  midst  of  us,  and  I  feel  confident  that  the  sun  of 
 a  better  day  is  dawning  upon  us.  Can  we  not,  my 
 dear  friend,  both  say,  “  Amen:  come,  Lord  Jesus; 
 come  quickly?”  Though  others  may  regard  all  this 
 as  weakness  and  folly,  we  hail  the  coming  of  thy 
 kingdom  as  an  event  more  illustrious  than  the  march 
 of  earthly  conquerors ;  as  an  event,  whose  effects,  in 
 greatness  and  glory,  will  soon  cause  all  that  is  splen¬ 
 did,  and  all  that  is  imposing,  in  the  records  of  hu¬ 
 man  might,  to  go  out  in  total  darkness  ! 
 
 Tlje  world  has  a  standard  of  its  own  in  deter¬ 
 mining  the  merit  and  the  worth  of  things.  But  it  is 
 a  false  standard ;  a  standard  which  the  Bible  meets, 
 at  every  turn,  with  unvarying  and  unyielding  con¬ 
 demnation.  Now,  to  live  in  this  world,  and  to  keep 
 up  tolerable  appearances  with  the  world,  and  yet  hold 
 up  constantly  a  standard  directly  opposite  to  theirs, 
 and  one  which  they  regard  as  contemptible,  is  very 
 difficult.  We  can  see,  indeed,  how  it  happens  that 
 they  view  things  just  as  they  do.  Perhaps  we  re¬ 
 member  the  time  when  it  was  so  with  us.  This 
 ought  to  be  enough  for  us,  that  we  know  they  are 
 in  the  wrong.  But  it  is  hard  to  be  despised.  And 
 this  makes  one  of  the  striking  peculiarities  of  the 
 gospel : — i6  Whosoever  doth  not  bear  his  cross,  and 
 
455 
 
 come  after  me,  cannot  be  my  disciple.”  Yet,  on 
 the  other  hand,  no  Christian  ever  gains  any  thing 
 by  making  unchristian  concessions  to  the  world. 
 He  cannot  go  all  lengths  with  it,  if  he  is  a  Christian  ; 
 and  the  state  of  vacillation,  which  keeps  one  vibrating 
 between  both  worlds,  is  always  distressing  and  con¬ 
 temptible.  There  is  common  sense  enough  in  the 
 world  to  make  it  respect  consistency,  even  though 
 that  consistency  is  maintained  against  it.  And,  my 
 friend,  the  only  way  of  entering  into  rest  is,  to  be¬ 
 lieve  all  that  God  has  revealed,  and  regulate  all  our 
 desires  and  actions  by  our  belief.  The  stronger  our 
 faith,  the  more  we  are  advanced  in  the  knowledge  of 
 spiritual  things,  the  less  we  shall  be  troubled  at  the 
 little  crosses  and  mortifications  our  adherence  to  our 
 Master  costs  us.  The  more  we  learn  to  look  away 
 from  the  things  seen  and  temporal,  to  those  which 
 are  not  seen  and  eternal,  the  happier  we  shall  be, 
 partly  because  we  shall  be  less  affected  by  human 
 opinion.  It  is  melancholy  to  think  how  little  any 
 of  us  honour  God.  6i  Man’s  chief  end  is  to  glorify 
 God.”  This  is  the  business  of  the  angels ;  and  it 
 should  be  our  business  as  much  as  theirs.  It  is  an 
 excellent,  an  ennobling  thing  to  be  thus  employed. 
 And  if  we  are  Christians,  we  shall  mourn  much  over 
 our  own  sins,  and  over  the  sins  of  God’s  people, 
 because  they  dishonour  him. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  IN  B. 
 
 Boston ,  May  18,  1823. 
 
 I  felt  disappointed  at  not  seeing  you  again  when 
 in  town,  my  dear  H.  but  could  not.  My  residence 
 
456 
 
 is  so  far  from  the  centre  of  the  city,  that  the  neces¬ 
 sary  business  I  have  to  do  there  takes  so  much  time, 
 that  I  am  obliged  to  make  fewer  calls  than  would  be 
 agreeable  to  me.  Besides,  my  engagements  have 
 been  unusually  numerous  this  spring.  Almost  since 
 the  commencement  of  the  precious  revival  with  which 
 heaven  is  blessing  us,  the  female  members  of  our 
 church,  in  my  neighbourhood,  have  had  a  prayer 
 meeting  of  half  an  hour,  three  times  a-week,  at  each 
 other’s  houses.  Besides  this,  the  neighbourhood 
 meeting,  for  this  quarter  of  the  city,  which,  you 
 know,  is  intended  chiefly  for  those  who  are  not  pro¬ 
 fessors,  has,  since  its  establishment,  been  held  every 
 third  time  at  my  house.  These  meetings  I  have 
 felt  it  my  duty  generally  to  attend, — the  prayer 
 meetings  always,  when  it  was  in  my  power.  Not 
 that  I  think  the  habit  of  attending  many  extra 
 meetings  correct,  as  a  general  thing.  But  there  are 
 special  seasons  which  call  for  special  exertions,  on  the 
 part  of  ministers,  and  of  private  Christians.  Such  a 
 season  we  have  been,  for  some  time,  and  are  still 
 favoured  with.  There  are  those,  moreover,  (and  of 
 these,  in  my  present  circumstances,  I  consider  myself 
 one,)  whose  comparative  exemption  from  domestic 
 responsibilities,  lays  them  under  obligations  to  the 
 public,  which  they  ought  to  understand  and  dis¬ 
 charge.  Every  Christian  ought  to  do  something. 
 To  lie  by  as  drones,  is  a  sad,  a  wicked  thing.  Yet 
 no  one  Christian  is  called  to  do  every  thing.  God 
 seems  sometimes  to  assign  to  us  our  portion  of  em¬ 
 ployment,  and  point  out  to  us  the  place  of  labour. 
 Indeed  he  always  does  this,  if  we  had  wisdom  and 
 faith  to  see  it ;  but  in  some  cases  the  sphere  appears 
 
457 
 
 rather  less  of  our  own  choosing  than  in  others.  For 
 instance,  a  mother  whom  God  has  set  over  a  family, 
 to  whom  she  must  be  faithful  as  one  who  is  to  give 
 account ;  if  her  family  is  large,  and  her  assistance 
 small,  and  her  health  not  vigorous,  who  would  un¬ 
 dertake  to  say  that  she  should  leave  this  sphere  which 
 God  has  assigned  her,  to  labour  in  some  other  ?  And 
 it  appears  to  me  that  we  lose  by  attempting  too  much. 
 No  one  should  undertake  to  do  more  than  he  can  do 
 well.  The  hurry  and  confusion  of  mind  which  re¬ 
 sult  from  imperfectly  carrying  on  a  great  many  dif¬ 
 ferent  plans,  all  good  plans  perhaps,  is  a  state  greatly 
 to  be  dreaded.  To  feel  in  such  a  hurry  and  tumult, 
 as  not  to  be  able  to  pray  in  the  closet  without  dis¬ 
 traction,  is  dreadful.  And  such  a  state  is  entirely 
 blame-worthy,  let  the  causes  which  produced  it  be 
 what  they  may.  It  is  a  happy  thing,  when  we  are 
 willing  to  do  all  we  can,  and  when  we  are  able  to 
 determine  accurately  how  much  we  can  do. 
 
 TO  HER  SON  AT  ANDOVER. 
 
 Boston ,  June  8,  1823. 
 
 My  anxieties  about  you,  my  dear  J.  are  very 
 great.  I  wish  to  have  you  in  earnest  in  the  pursuit 
 of  human  science ;  but  I  am,  above  all,  solicitous  to 
 have  you  in  earnest  in  the  pursuit  of  holiness,  with¬ 
 out  which  human  science  will  soon  be  found  to  be  as 
 sounding  brass  and  a  tinkling  cymbal.  Let  it  be 
 your  first,  your  great  concern  to  be  a  Christian.  I 
 hope  you  will  choose  those  boys  for  your  associates 
 who  are  most  serious.  I  wish  you  regularly  and 
 punctually  to  attend  the  Bible  class,  and  to  be  care- 
 
 U  41 
 
458 
 
 ful  to  be  always  well  prepared  for  the  exercise,  and 
 to  remember  the  instructions  you  there  receive. 
 Daily  read  your  Bible  in  your  retirement,  with  se¬ 
 riousness  and  attention,  to  see  what  God  says  to 
 you;  and  pray  for  his  grace  to  help  you  to  under¬ 
 stand  and  feel  its  precious  truths.  Never  neglect 
 secret  prayer.  You  cannot  expect  to  be  kept  from 
 sin  and  temptation  without  the  help  of  God.  You 
 are  weak  and  depraved,  and  in  a  world  of  temptation 
 and  danger.  Your  only  hope  is  in  His  arm  who  is 
 able  to  save  you  even  to  the  uttermost.  Be  not 
 slothful  in  business,  but  diligent  in  duty ;  for  you 
 are  soon  to  stand  before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ, 
 and  give  an  account  for  your  talents,  your  time, 
 your  opportunities  for  improvement,  all  your  con¬ 
 duct,  words,  and  thoughts.  Oh !  remember  this,  and 
 live  so  that  you  may  hope  to  hear  the  Judge  say  to 
 you,  “  Come,  thou  blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit  the 
 kingdom  prepared  for  thee,  from  the  foundation  of 
 the  world.” 
 
 TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW  AT  N.  L. 
 
 Boston ,  June  11,  1823. 
 
 I  am  sorry,  my  dear  sister,  to  hear  that  you  are 
 not  well.  My  own  health  has  been  rather  more 
 feeble  than  usual  this  spring.  A  troublesome  cough 
 has  been  my  companion  longer  than  I  like.  We 
 dwell  in  houses  of  clay;  and  the  earthly  house  of  our 
 tabernacle  is  dissolving.  We  have  admonitions  in 
 every  form,  to  be  doing  with  our  might  the  work 
 assigned  us ;  and  it  is  a  great  work,  to  prepare  our¬ 
 selves,  and  do  what  we  can  to  prepare  others,  for 
 
459 
 
 eternity.  The  opportunity  of  exerting  a  salutary 
 influence  on  those  about  us  will  soon  be  over.  Soon, 
 very  soon,  it  will  be  too  late  to  labour  and  pray. 
 The  Lord  help  us  to  be  faithful,  as  those  who  are 
 speedily  to  give  account. 
 
 Give  my  love  to  our  dear  mother.  Tell  her,  I 
 hope  she  has  found  shelter  in  His  bosom  who  is  a 
 very  present  help  in  every  time  of  trouble ;  that  she 
 is  enabled  to  roll  over  her  burdens  on  His  arm,  who 
 chasteneth  whom  he  loveth,  and  scourgeth  every  son 
 whom  he  receiveth;  that  she  has  found,  by  expe¬ 
 rience,  that  the  name  of  the  Lord  is  a  strong  tower, 
 into  which  she  can  run  and  be  safe.  I  do  hope, 
 my  dear  sister,  that  the  Lord  Jesus  has  prepared 
 places  for  us  in  a  better  world  than  this ;  and  that 
 when  he  cometh,  he  will  receive  us  to  himself,  ac¬ 
 cording  to  his  own  word,  “  Father,  I  will  that  those 
 whom  thou  hast  given  me  be  with  me  where  I  am, 
 that  they  may  behold  my  glory.”  Let  us  comfort 
 one  another  with  these  words. 
 
 TO  HER  SON  AT  ANDOVER. 
 
 Boston ,  June  22,  1823. 
 
 I  have  thought  a  great  deal  of  you,  my  dear  J. 
 since  you  left  us  at  the  commencement  of  the  present 
 term.  You  are  removed  from  my  immediate  care, 
 and  your  actions  cannot  now  pass  under  my  observa¬ 
 tion  with  the  same  minuteness  which  they  used  to 
 do.  I  may  indeed  learn,  in  general,  from  others, 
 what  shape  your  character  is  taking ;  but  all  those 
 various  details  of  action — small,  but  unceasingly  ex¬ 
 hibited — -which  I  used  to  watch  so  closely, 
 
 u  2 
 
 can  no 
 
460 
 
 longer  be  inspected  by  your  mother.  You  now, 
 much  more  than  formerly,  must  act  for  yourself. 
 Sometimes  the  thought  that  it  is  so,  is  extremely 
 painful  to  me.  But  then  I  reflect,  that  the  only 
 bulwark  against  temptation  is  the  correctness  and 
 strength  of  your  own  principles ;  and  I  feel  that  I 
 must  pray  for  you,  and  leave  you  with  God.  The 
 boy  whose  evil  propensities  are  only  held  in  by  the 
 reins  of  parental  vigilance,  will  easily  fall  a  prey  to 
 the  snares  of  a  treacherous  world,  and  a  sagacious 
 enemy,  as  soon  as  these  salutary  restraints  are  re¬ 
 moved.  You  must  be  able  yourself,  my  son,  to  dis¬ 
 cern  the  difference  between  the  right  and  the  wrong ; 
 and  you  must  have  a  heart  to  choose  the  former  and 
 refuse  the  latter,  or  your  mother’s  prayers  and  in¬ 
 structions  will  never  save  you. 
 
 While  I  wish  you,  as  I  have  often  intimated,  to 
 be  careful  in  forming  friendships,  becoming  intimate 
 with  none  but  boys  of  unexceptionable  character,  I 
 am  equally  desirous  that  you  should  avoid  feeling 
 that  you  are  very  good  yourself.  “  To  this  man 
 will  I  look,”  saith  God,  “  even  to  him  who  is  of  an 
 humble  and  contrite  heart.”  God  “  resist eth  the 
 proud,  but  giveth  grace  to  the  humble.”  And  I 
 wish  you  not  to  speak  of  the  faults  of  other  boys 
 unnecessarily.  This  is  very  wrong.  If  they  are 
 not  good,  you  need  not  be  intimate  with  them,  you 
 ought  not  to  be,  because  God  commands  you  cc  not 
 to  go  in  the  way  of  sinners.”  But  this  does  not 
 imply  that  you  should  talk  about  their  failings.  \  ou 
 should  strive  not  to  make  enemies.  If  there  is  any 
 temper  which  I  love  to  see  above  all  others,  it  is  the 
 humble,  lamb-like  spirit  which  J esus  Christ  possessed 
 
461 
 
 in  perfection,  and  which  his  gospel  requires  of  all 
 who  would  be  his  disciples.  Take  your  place  at  his 
 feet,  my  J.  and  learn  of  him  as  Mary  did. 
 
 TO  A  FRIEND  AT  A. 
 
 Boston ,  June  24,  1823. 
 
 I  write  just  to  inform  you  that  I  think  of  going 
 to  Connecticut.  I  have  had  a  bad  cough,  at  inter¬ 
 vals,  all  the  spring.  It  is  troublesome  and  obstinate. 
 Dr. - says  I  must  change  the  air.  He  recom¬ 
 
 mends  going  into  the  interior,  but  thinks  a  visit  to 
 New  Haven,  or  New  London,  would  answer  the  pur¬ 
 pose.  When  I  shall  set  out,  I  am  not  able,  at  pre¬ 
 sent,  to  inform  you.  I  will  write  you  more  definitely 
 soon. 
 
 TO  MRS.  S.  AT  NEW  LONDON. 
 
 Boston ,  June  29,  1823. 
 
 I  wish  I  could  look  in  upon  you  and  your  little 
 charge  this  evening ;  I  should  then  know  better  than 
 I  now  do  how  to  address  you.  I  will,  however,  take 
 it  for  granted  that  you  are  well,  that  the  children  are 
 well,  that  your  journey  has  been  comfortable,  and 
 that  you  are  comparatively  happy. 
 
 You  and  I,  my  dear  madam,  have  seen  many 
 changes,  we  have  met  with  many  vicissitudes,  every 
 one  of  which  the  Lord  chose  out  for  us,  in  infinite 
 wisdom  and  mercy,  before  the  world  was.  And  has 
 he  not  helped  us  hitherto  ?  Has  he  not  always  de¬ 
 livered  us  from  evil,  or  enabled  us  to  bear  it  ?  And 
 is  not  his  grace  in  times  past  a  pledge  of  future 
 
462 
 
 mercy  ?  Upon  the  whole,  my  dear  IMrs.  S.  X  be— 
 lieve  all  tliat  we  want  is  more  grace;  a  heait  to  rest 
 in  God ;  a  heart  to  love  his  character,  to  love  his 
 will,  to  love  his  government.  This  would  set  all 
 right.  All  that  we  have  is  his,— our  own  bodies 
 and  souls,  our  children,  our  possessions,  our  acquire¬ 
 ments.  Is  it  not  so  ?  Are  we  Christians  ?  And  are 
 we  grasping  any  darling  object,  and  saying,  (i  All 
 the  rest,  Lord,  but  not  this  ;  this  I  cannot  part 
 with?”  Oh,  are  we  Christians;  and  shall  we  do 
 this?  No,  no.  Let  it  be  our  glory,  let  it  be  our 
 happiness,  to  give  up  all  to  God,  and  we  shall  be 
 repaid  a  thousand  fold. 
 
 The  letter  just  read,  was  the  last  written  by  this 
 excellent  woman  previously  to  her  being  seized  with 
 the  malady  which  terminated  in  her  death.  The 
 cough  spoken  of  more  than  once  in  the  preceding 
 extracts,  had  continued  without  abatement.  On 
 Saturday,  July  5th,  she  took  an  additional  cold.  In 
 the  evening  of  the  succeeding  Sabbath,  her  indispo¬ 
 sition  assumed  a  more  painful  and  alarming  chaiacter. 
 The  change,  and  her  feelings  in  relation  to  it,  are 
 thus  described  by  herself  in  a  postscript  to  the  letter 
 commenced  June  29th.  Ci  Since  I  wrote  the  above, 
 my  dear  Mrs.  S.  my  health  has  changed  a  good  deal. 
 You  recollect  my  troublesome  cough.  Day  before 
 yesterday,  I  spit  a  little  blood ;  and  every  day  since, 
 I  have  raised  a  little.  A  blister  and  a  slight  fever 
 have  reduced  my  strength ;  so  that  I  feel  that  I  am 
 a  frail,  dying  creature. 
 
 ((  - is  very  anxious  to  get  me  from  Bos- 
 
463 
 
 ton.  He  hopes  a  change  of  air  will  benefit  me.  I  hope 
 so  too,  and  think  of  Connecticut,  if  I  can  get  there. 
 But  oh,  how  lonely  I  feel !  Whom  shall  I  look  to  ? 
 But  hush  every  word  that  looks  like  complaining. 
 The  Lord  has  written  me  widow  and  desolate ;  and 
 he  has  done  well.  Oh  for  a  heart  to  bless  him  now, 
 to  bless  him  for  ever  !  I  need  strong  faith.  I  can¬ 
 not  write  much.  You  must  all  love  and  pray  for  me. 
 But  we  all  want  love  to,  and  confidence  in,  the  blessed 
 God,  a  thousand  times  more  than  any  thing  else.” 
 
 A  second  postscript  to  the  same  letter,  written  by 
 another  hand,  and  dated  Wednesday  evening,  July 
 9th,  is  as  follows :  c<  Dear  Madam,  thus  far  our  be¬ 
 loved  friend  had  written  to  you.  She  is  now  unable 
 to  finish ;  and  has  requested  me  to  do  it,  and  to  in¬ 
 form  you  of  the  particulars  of  her  case.  It  is  painful 
 indeed  to  know  it,  but  you  would  consider  it  cruel 
 to  keep  you  in  ignorance  of  it.  Last  evening,  and 
 but  a  short  time  after  she  had  written  the  above, 
 she  was  taken  with  raising  blood  to  a  degree  which 
 alarmed  us  very  much.  The  physician  took  nearly  a 
 pint  of  blood  from  the  arm,  and  she  was  considerably 
 relieved  from  the  irritation  on  the  lungs.  Another 
 blister  has  also  been  applied,  and  has  drawn  very 
 well.  The  doctor  thinks  there  is  no  immediate  dan¬ 
 ger,  and  hopes  she  will  recover.  He  wishes  her  to 
 keep  entirely  quiet,  and  not  to  speak  a  word.  She 
 is  very  much  exhausted,  and  the  weather  to-day  has 
 been  oppressively  warm.  We  hope  that  the  means 
 which  are  using  will  be  blessed  of  Him  in  whose 
 hands  is  the  breath  of  every  one,  and  that  this  pre¬ 
 cious  woman  may  long  be  continued  to  her  children, 
 her  friends,  the  church,  and  the  world.  Many  fer- 
 
464 
 
 vent  prayers  are  ascending  for  her ;  and  she  will  not 
 be  forgotten  by  you  and  her  other  dear  friends  in 
 Connecticut.  She  is  in  a  very  quiet  and  happy  frame 
 of  mind,  sweetly  feeling  that  she  is  in  the  hands  of 
 her  covenant  God.” 
 
 These  hopes  in  regard  to  her  health  were  not 
 realized.  Every  effort  which  skill  and  kindness  could 
 make,  was  made  for  the  removal  of  her  complaint. 
 Prayer  was  continually  offered,  by  numerous  and  ar¬ 
 dently  attached  Christian  friends,  for  her  restoration. 
 But  she  continued  gradually  to  decline. 
 
 In  the  latter  part  of  August,  she  was  removed  to 
 the  house  of  a  friend  in  the  country,  about  ten  miles 
 from  Boston,  with  the  hope  that  a  change  of  air  and 
 scene  might  be  beneficial.  And,  for  a  time,  she  was 
 more  comfortable  than  while  in  the  city ;  but  the  pro¬ 
 gress  of  her  disease  was  not  interrupted.  While 
 here,  she  wrote  two  or  three  short  notes  to  her  chil¬ 
 dren,  none  of  whom  were  with  her.  The  following 
 extracts  are  from  one  to  her  son  at  Andover. 
 
 September  19,  1823. 
 
 My  beloved  child,  though  I  am  very  feeble,  I 
 feel  a  great  desire  to  write  you  a  few  lines.  My 
 love  and  anxiety  for  you  are  greater  than  any  but  a 
 parent  can  know ;  and  yet  I  tell  you  your  faults. 
 I  want  you  to  settle  this  truth  in  your  mind  for  life, 
 my  J.  that  he  is  pour  best  friend  who  takes  the  most 
 pains  to  correct  your  errors.  Beware  of  the  person 
 who  tries  to  make  you  think  well  of  yourself,  espe¬ 
 cially  when  your  own  conscience  is  not  quite  satisfied. 
 
 20.  Always  love  your  sisters.  Consider  yourself 
 as,  in  a  sense,  their  protector  and  guardian.  Write 
 
465 
 
 to  them  often;  pray  for  them.  You  are  likely  to 
 be  left  alone  in  a  strange  world.  So  have  I  been  ; 
 and 
 
 Thus  far  the  Lord  hath  led  me  on ; 
 
 so  that  I  have  never  lacked  any  good  thing.  The 
 way  has  been  boisterous  sometimes, 
 
 But  Judah’s  Lion  guards  the  way, 
 
 And  guides  the  travellers  home. 
 
 Make  this  friend  yours. — But  I  must  close.  Love 
 Mr.  C. — always  love  him.  He  is  one  of  your  best 
 friends  ;  and  faithful  friends  are  not  very  plenty  in 
 this  treacherous  world,  my  J.  But  oh,  that  I  could 
 see  you  securing  the  friendship  of  your  God  !  Re¬ 
 member,  his  vows  are  upon  you,  and  you  cannot,  must 
 not,  go  back.  Farewell,  beloved  child.  The  Lord 
 be  with  you  continually. 
 
 About  the  close  of  the  month  of  September,  she 
 desired  the  physician  then  attending  her,  to  inform 
 her,  definitely  and  frankly,  whether  there  was,  in  his 
 opinion,  any  prospect  of  her  recovery.  His  answer 
 was  in  the  negative.  She  received  it  with  some 
 feeling,  but  with  submission,  and  thanked  him  for 
 his  kindness  in  being  so  explicit. 
 
 On  the  third  of  October  she  was  removed  again 
 to  her  residence  in  Boston ;  and  proceeded  imme¬ 
 diately  to  set  her  house  in  order,  in  preparation  for 
 death.  She  had  an  interview  with  the  gentleman 
 who  has  since,  in  compliance  with  the  request  then 
 made,  been  appointed  guardian  to  her  children.  She 
 saw,  or  wrote  to  the  friends  who  have  kindly  under- 
 
 u  3 
 
466 
 
 taken  the  charge  of  their  education.  The  following 
 is  an  extract  from  one  of  her  letters  on  this  subject, 
 
 dated  October  20,  1823. — “  My  dear - ,  how 
 
 I  have  longed  to  see  you  !  Your  mother  said  you 
 would  be  here,  and  I  have  expected  it  with  great 
 anxiety.  She  said  you  would  take  S.  Will  you 
 be  her  mother  ?  Will  your  husband  be  her  father  ? 
 Will  you  watch  over  this  dear  child? — Yes,  you  will, 
 and  I  shall  die  easy  on  this  point.  God  helps  me 
 to  trust  the  promise,  c  Leave  thy  fatherless  children, 
 I  will  preserve  them.’ 
 
 “  My  strength  decays.  I  have  scarcely  any  appe¬ 
 tite.  But  my  Saviour  lays  under  me  his  everlasting 
 arm ;  and  I  trust  that  all  is  well,  and  will  be  well  for 
 ever.  Pray  that  I  may  have  his  presence,  and  that 
 
 I  may  glorify  him  to  the  end.  Farewell,  beloved 
 friend.” 
 
 During  her  illness,  her  pastor  had  frequent  inter¬ 
 views  with  her.  She  at  one  time,  about  a  fortnight 
 after  the  first  bleeding  from  her  lungs,  had  some 
 doubts  and  fears  in  regard  to  the  genuineness  of  her 
 religious  experience.  Her  apprehension  was,  that 
 she  mi&ht  never  have  been  truly  humbled  for  sin. 
 But  the  feelings  which  this  apprehension  excited, 
 were  of  such  a  character  as  to  furnish  to  others  the 
 most  satisfactory  evidence  of  her  piety ;  as  they  clearly 
 evinced  a  deep  and  practical  conviction,  that  without 
 the  light  of  God  s  countenance  there  can  be  no  real 
 happiness.  4  he  cloud  was,  however,  soon  dissipated; 
 and,  from  that  time  till  her  death,  she  was  favoured 
 with  uniform  peace  of  mind. 
 
 Her  pastor  usually,  when  other  engagements  did 
 
46? 
 
 not  prevent,  made  brief  minutes,  upon  returning  home 
 from  visiting  her,  of  the  conversation  during  the  in¬ 
 terview.  A  few  of  these,  as  a  specimen,  will  be  here 
 inserted. 
 
 Tuesday,  October  28,  1823.  Called  on  Mrs. 
 Huntington  about  half-past  nine  in  the  morning. 
 Found  that  she  had  failed  considerably  since  my  last 
 visit.  To  an  inquiry,  in  relation  to  the  state  of  her 
 mind  since  Friday,  she  replied,  4  I  think  I  have  felt 
 more  of  the  presence  of  Christ  than  I  did  when  I 
 saw  you  last.  I  have  not  had  those  strong  views 
 and  joyful  feelings  with  which  I  have  sometimes  been 
 favoured.  My  mind  is  weak,  and  I  cannot  direct 
 and  fix  my  thoughts  as  I  once  could.  But  I  think 
 I  have  fled  for  refuge  to  lay  hold  on  the  hope  set 
 before  me  in  the  precious  gospel;  and  He  who  is 
 the  foundation  of  that  hope  will  never  forsake  me.’ 
 Then,  with  a  most  interesting  expression  of  counte¬ 
 nance,  she  said,  4  I  trust  we  shall  meet  in  heaven, 
 and  spend  an  eternity  in  praising  our  dear  Redeemer.’ 
 It  was  replied,  4  We  shall,  if  we  give  him  our  hearts, 
 and  continue  faithful  to  him  unto  the  end.’  4 1  feel,’ 
 she  answered,  4  that  I  have  been  very,  very  unfaith¬ 
 ful.  But  he  is  merciful,  his  blood  cleanseth  from  all 
 sin,  and  I  trust  he  has  blotted  my  sins  from  the  book 
 of  his  remembrance.  Oh,  what  should  we  do  with¬ 
 out  Christ  ?’  4  As  much  debtors,’  it  was  remarked, 
 
 4  to  free  grace  at  the  end  of  our  course,  as  when  we 
 begin  it.’  4  More,’  she  replied,  4  far  more ;  for  we 
 sin  against  greater  light  and  love  after  we  are  born 
 again.  Yes,  it  is  all  of  free  grace.  If  it  were  not, 
 what  would  become  of  me  ?’  It  was  answered,  4  You 
 would  have  perished,  justly  perished ;  but  now,  when 
 
468 
 
 you  enter  heaven,  you  will  stand  before  the  angels, 
 a  monument  of  God’s  justice,  as  well  as  of  his  free 
 grace;  lor  he  is  just  in  justifying  those  that  believe 
 in  Jesus.  i  \  es,’  she  replied,  6  what  a  glorious  P1  an  ! 
 what  a  precious  Saviour  !  Oh,  that  I  could  love  him 
 more  !  Pray  that  I  may  love  and  glorify  him  for 
 ever.’ 
 
 After  prayer,  she  said,  6  I  hope  you  pray  for  me 
 at  other  times,  as  well  as  when  you  are  here.  Ask 
 for  me  the  continual  presence  of  Christ,  and  that  I 
 may  honour  his  religion  to  the  end.’  It  was  an¬ 
 swered,  4  W e  constantly  remember  you  in  our  prayers  : 
 many  of  God’s  people  are  deeply  interested  for  you, 
 and  are  continually  supplicating  the  throne  of  grace 
 in  your  behalf.  4  I  know  it,’  she  replied;  4  and  that 
 is  the  reason  why  I  have  been  favoured  with  such  a 
 comfortable  state  of  mind ;  for  Satan  has  desired  to 
 have  me,  and  to  sift  me  as  wheat.  I  hope  they  will 
 continue  to  pray  for  me ;  and  may  God  bless  them 
 with  the  consolations  they  ask  lor  me.’  It  was  re¬ 
 marked,  4  He  who  said  to  Peter,  44  I  have  prayed  for 
 thee  that  thy  faith  fail  not,”  is,  I  trust,  continually 
 interceding  lor  you;  and  him  the  Father  heareth 
 always.  She  said,  4  1  hope  he  does  intercede  for 
 me  ;  and  that  is  one  of  my  greatest  consolations ;  for 
 he  will  be  heard.  Put,  you  know,  he  presents  the 
 prayers  ol  the  saints ;  and  I  want  the  satisfaction  of 
 reflecting,  that  he  is  continually  presenting  many  of 
 them  in  behalf  ol  me  and  my  dear  children.’ 
 
 On  Friday,  October  31st,  at  nine  o’clock,  a.  m. 
 iound  her  more  comlortable  than  on  Tuesday  last. 
 She  said,  4  ATy  mind  has  generally  been  in  a  peace¬ 
 ful  frame  since  I  saw  you.  But  I  want  to  realize  the 
 
469 
 
 presence  and  preciousness  of  Christ,  more  distinctly 
 and  constantly  than  my  great  weakness  permits  me 
 to  do.’  Some  remarks  were  made  respecting  the 
 provisions  of  the  Covenant  of  Grace,  as  adapted  to 
 all  our  weaknesses.  i  The  Bible,’  it  was  said,  6  tells 
 us  that  “  He  knoweth  our  frame,  he  remembereth 
 that  we  are  dust;”  66  a  bruised  reed  shall  he  not 
 break,  and  the  smoking  flax  shall  he  not  quench 
 “  We  have  not  an  High  Priest  which  cannot  be 
 touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities,  but  was 
 in  all  points  tempted  like  as  we  are,  yet  without  sin. 
 Let  us,  therefore,  come  boldly  unto  the  throne  of 
 grace,  that  we  may  obtain  mercy,  and  find  grace  to 
 help  in  time  of  need.”  ’  She  said,  c  Glorious  cove¬ 
 nant  !  precious  promises  !  I  have  given  myself,  soul 
 and  body,  to  Him  in  whom  they  are  all  yea  and 
 amen,  and  I  do  not  fear.  I  desire  to  have  him  do 
 with  me  as  it  shall  please  him.’ 
 
 After  prayer,  she  said,  fi  We  have  indeed  a  faith¬ 
 ful  God,  a  precious  Saviour ;  but  how  limited  our 
 knowledge,  how  imperfect  our  views,  of  eternal 
 things  !’  It  was  replied,  c  What  we  know  not  now, 
 we  shall  know  hereafter.  Soon,  if  we  are  Christians, 
 we  shall  see  face  to  face,  and  know  even  as  we  are 
 known.  And  now,  we  know  that  when  Christ  shall 
 appear,  if  we  are  the  children  of  God,  we  shall  he  like 
 him,  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is.’  c  That,’  she  said, 
 e  is  enough.  How  different  v/ill  be  our  views  !  How 
 differently  shall  we  view  sin  !  I  seem  never  to  have 
 known  what  it  is,  till  within  the  last  few  weeks.  And 
 now  I  am  convinced  I  know  very  little  of  its  evil  and 
 hateful  nature.  How  can  we  trifle  with  it  as  we  do  ? 
 
 This  day  had  been  set  apart  by  the  church  to  which 
 
470 
 
 she  belonged,  as  a  season  of  fasting  and  prayer ;  the 
 forenoon  to  be  spent,  as  far  as  paramount  duties  would 
 permit,  in  private  devotion,  and  a  meeting  of  the 
 church  to  be  held  in  the  afternoon,  and  again  in  the 
 evening.  She  alluded  to  the  subject,  expressing  a 
 hope  that  it  might  be  a  pleasant  and  profitable  season 
 to  the  whole  church,  as  pleasant  and  profitable  as  she 
 had  found  the  last  church  fast;  and  added,  fi  I  wish 
 I  could  be  with  you/  It  was  answered,  c  You  can; 
 we  are  going  to  the  throne  of  grace,  and  you  can  be 
 there  also/  She  replied,  c  I  will  try.  May  the  Holy 
 Spirit  be  in  the  midst  of  you,  producing  in  every  heart 
 godly  sorrow  for  past  unfaithfulness,  and  reviving  the 
 spirit  of  obedience  and  of  effort  to  promote  the  work 
 of  the  Lord/ 
 
 She  then  inquired  respecting  the  Ladies’  Dis¬ 
 tributing  Bible  Association,  and  the  Female  Asso¬ 
 ciations  in  connexion  with  the  Auxiliary  Foreign 
 Missionary  Society  of  Boston  and  Vicinity,  which 
 had  recently  been  formed  in  the  city;  and,  upon 
 receiving  some  account  of  them,  expressed  her  satis¬ 
 faction  in  being  permitted  to  hear  of  these  new  and 
 systematic  efforts  to  extend  the  Redeemer’s  kingdom. 
 It  was  observed,  6  You  see  God’s  work  on  earth  will 
 go  on,  although  you  and  other  instruments  are  laid 
 aside.’  She  replied,  c  Oh,  what  have  I  been? 
 Nothing.  I  have  done  nothing,  compared  with  what 
 I  ought  to  have  done.  He  needs  no  instruments ;  it 
 is  infinite  condescension  in  him  to  employ  them ;  and 
 when  he  takes  away  those  he  has  employed,  he  has 
 no  further  use  for  them  here.  I  am  going,  I  hope, 
 where  I  shall  serve  him  better,  without  sin,  and  with 
 all  my  powers,  for  ever.’ 
 
471 
 
 Friday,  November  7.  To  the  usual  inquiry 
 respecting  the  state  of  her  mind,  she  said,  4  Mrs. 
 Graham  accurately  describes  my  feelings,  when  she 
 says,  44  Thus  far  has  the  Lord  brought  me  through 
 the  wilderness;  bearing,  chastising,  forgiving,  restor¬ 
 ing.  I  am  near  to  Jordan’s  flood.  May  my  blessed 
 High  Priest,  and  Ark  of  the  Covenant,  lead  on  my 
 staggering  steps  the  little  further  I  have  to  go.”*  I 
 have  had  no  rapturous  views  of  the  heaven  to  which 
 I  hope  I  am  going,  no  longings  to  depart.  But  I 
 have  generally  been  enabled  to  feel  a  calm  submission, 
 and  to  realize  the  fulness  and  the  preciousness  of  the 
 Saviour.  I  desire  to  feel  perfect  resignation  to  the 
 will  of  God,  because  it  is  his  will.  O  how  sweet  to 
 be  willing  to  be  just  where,  and  just  what,  God 
 pleases  !  to  rejoice  that  the  Lord  God  omnipotent 
 reigneth,  and  worketh  all  things  after  the  counsel  of 
 his  own  will.  This,  in  its  perfection,  is,  I  think,  a 
 principal  source  of  the  happiness  of  heaven.  Pray 
 that  God  would  enable  me  to  feel  thus  while  suffer¬ 
 ing  from  weakness  and  pain,  and  entering  the  dark 
 valley.’ 
 
 Frequently,  during  her  sickness,  she  had  expressed 
 to  her  pastor  a  desire  that  he  would,  if  possible,  be 
 with  her  in  her  last  moments.  On  Thursday,  De¬ 
 cember  4th,  he  was  informed,  about  three  o’clock  in 
 the  afternoon,  that  she  had  failed  greatly  since  morn¬ 
 ing,  and  would  probably  survive  but  a  little  longer. 
 He  immediately  repaired  to  her  residence,  and  found 
 
 *  See  Life  and  Writings  of  Mrs.  Isabella  Graham,  page  161, 
 third  New  York  edition. 
 
47  2 
 
 her  sleeping,  but  very  restless,  and  breathing  with 
 great  difficulty.  She  continued  in  this  state,  except 
 that  respiration  became  constantly  more  difficult, 
 through  the  afternoon  and  evening.  About  eleven 
 o’clock  the  difficulty  of  breathing  became  so  great, 
 as  to  overcome  the  disposition  to  slumber.  Intelli¬ 
 gence,  it  was  found,  still  remained.  She  was  asked, 
 if  she  knew  she  was  near  her  end.  She  answered, 
 by  a  sign,  in  the  affirmative.  It  was  said,  £  I  hope 
 you  feel  the  presence  of  the  Saviour  sustaining  and 
 comforting  you.’  She  assented.  6  Your  faith  and 
 hope  in  him  are  unshaken?’  Her  reply  was  in  the 
 affirmative. — A  few  minutes  after,  her  sight  failed; 
 and,  at  twenty  minutes  past  eleven,  her  spirit  entered 
 into  rest. 
 
 Her  end  was  full  of  peace, 
 
 Fitting  her  uniform  piety  serene. 
 
 ’Twas  rather  the  deep  humble  calm  of  faith, 
 
 Than  her  high  triumph ;  and  resembled  more 
 The  unnoticed  setting  of  a  clear  day’s  sun, 
 
 Than  his  admired  departure  in  a  blaze 
 Of  glory,  bursting  from  a  clouded  course. 
 
POETRY 
 
 WRITTEN  AFTER  READING  BUCHANAN’S  CHRIS- 
 TIAN  RESEARCHES,  IN  1813. 
 
 When  1  on  fancy’s  pinion  ride. 
 
 Far  o’er  the  ocean’s  rolling  tide, 
 
 To  India’s  burning  shore, 
 
 Where  the  chained  soul  in  thraldom  sleeps, 
 
 And  Satan  his  dark  empire  keeps, 
 
 My  eye  a  pitying  torrent  weeps, 
 
 Of  grief  unfelt  before. 
 
 There,  whelmed  in  superstition’s  night, 
 
 Unknown  the  Gospel’s  cheering  light, 
 
 The  fettered  spirit  lies ; 
 
 Left  to  dim  Nature’s  twinkling  ray, 
 
 Which  can  but  feeble  light  convey, 
 
 It  sinks  to  doubt  and  sin  a  prey, 
 
 Nor  longs,  nor  seeks,  to  rise. 
 
 Yet  reason  there,  a  Sovereign  owns, 
 
 But,  stupid,  bows  to  stocks  and  stones, 
 
 (A  path  she’s  ever  trode.) 
 
 Reason  reduced,  can  never  climb 
 To  truths  so  glorious,  so  divine, 
 
 As  in  the  sacred  Gospel  shine, 
 
 Without  the  aid  of  God. 
 
 And  say,  oh  Christian  !  can  you  view 
 The  wretched  Heathen’s  guilt  and  woe, 
 
 Nor  drop  one  pitying  tear? 
 
474 
 
 Think — that,  though  sunk  in  sin  and  shame, 
 On  you  the  Indian  has  a  claim ; 
 
 He  bears  a  brother's  sacred  name : 
 
 Behold  him !  comfort,  cheer. 
 
 Yes,  let  the  Gospel’s  gladdening  voice 
 His  realms  illume,  reform,  rejoice. 
 
 Go,  tell  him  Jesus  reigns : 
 
 Bid  him  forsake  his  impious  rites; 
 
 Tell  him  that  God  his  love  invites; 
 
 Tell  him  in  mercy  He  delights, 
 
 And  waits  to  break  his  chains. 
 
 And  think,  how  high  your  joy  will  rise, 
 When,  throned  in  bliss  above  the  skies, 
 
 You  meet  the  ransom’d  throng, 
 
 And  see,  with  song  of  holiest  fire, 
 
 The  Indian  foremost  in  the  choir ! 
 
 How  will  it  raise  your  rapture  higher, 
 
 And  swell  your  joyous  song  ! 
 
 THE  SABBATH.  WRITTEN  IN  1814. 
 
 Another  holy  day  of  rest  returns; 
 
 The  curtain  gently  falls,  and  sober  eve 
 Ushers,  with  modest  step,  the  Sabbath  in.* 
 
 Sweet  day !  I  bid  thee  welcome.  Now,  from  noise, 
 And  all  the  jarring  tumults  of  the  'world, 
 
 My  wearied  soul  retires,  and  rests  herself; 
 
 And  seeks,  in  contemplation,  heavenly  food, 
 
 To  renovate  the  powers  which  six  days’  toil 
 Has  made  obtuse  and  languid.  Glad  I  call 
 My  roving  spirit  homeward,  and  refresh, 
 
 Jn  holy  intercourse  with  heaven,  its  dull 
 And  scatter’d  faculties.  How  far  the  world 
 
 *  It  was  the  habit  of  the  writer,  to  commence  the  appropriate  duties  of  the 
 Sabbath  at  early  candle-lighting  on  Saturday  evening. 
 
475 
 
 And  all  its  empty  forms  of  bliss  retire! 
 
 I  hear  its  noisy  clamour  from  afar, 
 
 And  feel  compassion’s  unavailing  tear 
 Wrung  from  my  heart  at  thought  of  its  illusions. 
 
 ’Tis  sweet  to  lay  aside  the  spirit’s  shackles, 
 
 And,  for  a  while,  rise  upwards  in  the  view 
 Of  God  and  his  perfections.  Here  is  room 
 For  thought  to  stretch  and  widen,  till  the  theme, 
 Immense,  and  still  enlarging  as  pursued, 
 
 O’erwhelms  the  soul,  and  makes  it  pant  for  heaven. 
 
 How  awful  bright  each  rival  glory  shines 
 Of  different  attributes,  harmonious ! 
 
 Here  I  behold  meek  Mercy’s  angel  form. 
 
 Here  Justice  lifts  her  awful  head,  and  holds, 
 
 With  equal  hand,  her  everlasting  scales ; 
 
 Points  to  the  law  of  love  which  angels  own, 
 
 Owning,  obey,  and,  in  obeying,  find 
 
 Their  life,  their  blessedness,  their  heaven;  and  swear* 
 
 That  man  transgressing  it  must  die,  or  blot 
 
 The  eternal  page  of  Truth  immutable. 
 
 Now  bursts,  as  day’s  refulgent  orb  appears 
 To  the  strain’d  eye  which  long  has  watch’d  the  dawn, 
 Resplendent,  passing  admiration,  on  the  view, 
 
 The  mighty  plan  which  heaven’s  eternal  King 
 Concerted  with  his  equal  Son,  ere  earth 
 Was  form’d,  or  man  was  made,  or  lost, 
 
 To  snatch  a  sinking  world  from  righteous  ruin, 
 
 Yet  vindicate  the  law  which  seal’d  its  doom. 
 
 A  plan  omnipotent,  whose  vast  design 
 Draw’s  in  its  wondrous  compass,  all  which  man 
 Can  need,  though  lost,  and  all  which  God  requires ; 
 And,  sweetly  blending,  harmonizing  all, 
 
 O’erpowers,  and  mingles  in  its  mighty  rays 
 The  congregated  glories  of  the  whole. 
 
 Dear  day  of  rest  and  meditation  sweet! 
 
 Ne’er  mayst  thou  find  my  heart  so  treach’rous  grown. 
 As  to  prefer  the  worldling’s  day  to  thee ; 
 
 But  may  each  weekly  visit  find  my  soul 
 More  raised  above  earth’s  gilded  vanities, 
 
 Till  the  last  Sabbath  of  the  waiting  saint, 
 
 The  endless  rest  wdiich  Christ  has  promised,  come ! 
 
476 
 
 WRITTEN  IN  MAY  1820,  AFTER  THE  DEATH  OF 
 
 HER  HUSBAND.* 
 
 Smile  Nature,  smile ;  the  tearful  eye 
 Of  widowhood  thou  needst  not  wear : 
 
 Winter,  thy  sullen  foe’s  gone  by, 
 
 Fresh  bound  thy  streams,  soft  glows  thine  air. 
 
 WT eep’st  thou,  to  lift  thy  youthful  brow 
 
 And  smile,  while  aches  this  bleeding  heart? 
 
 Oh,  I  have  loved,  and  love  thee  now, 
 
 Changed  Nature  as  to  me  thou  art. 
 
 Yes,  thou  may’st  smile,  and  not  for  me 
 Enshroud  thy  virgin  charms  in  gloom, 
 
 And  veil  thy  face  in  sympathy 
 With  shade  and  sadness  of  the  tomb. 
 
 There  was  — ,  and  low  that  form  is  laid, 
 
 And  still  that  bosom’s  conscious  glow, 
 
 And  deep  the  sleep,  and  dense  the  shade, 
 
 And  hush’d  the  life-blood’s  vital  flow. 
 
 He  loved  thee  too :  and  he  is  gone  ; 
 
 From  this  fond  heart  so  early  riven. 
 
 And  now,  thou  seest  me  all  alone, 
 
 To  weep,  and  trace  my  way  to  heaven. 
 
 Abroad,  upon  thy  modest  face, 
 
 Meek  Nature,  earliest  love  of  mine, 
 
 I  fix  my  sad  and  silent  gaze, 
 
 And  mourn  that  alter’d  look  of  thine. 
 
 For  not  in  all  thy  deserts  wide, — 
 
 In  blooming  vale,  or  mountain  grey, 
 
 Or  stormy  ocean’s  troubled  tide, 
 
 In  earth,  or  air,  or  sky,  or  sea, — 
 
 *  Published  in  the  Boston  Recorder  of  June  10,  1820. 
 
Meets  me  the  friend  I  loved  so  well, 
 
 And  ne’er  shall  meet  on  mortal  shore : 
 And  long  this  bosom’s  anguish’d  swell 
 Shall  speak — that  we  shall  meet  no  more. 
 
 Yet,  there’s  a  land,  which  ne’er  was  trod 
 By  mortal  foot :  and  there  is  he. 
 
 Nature  !  there  dwells  thy  Maker,  God  ; 
 
 And  there  that  friend  these  eyes  shall  see. 
 
 And  soon  life’s  journey  measured  o’er, 
 
 And  death’s  dividing  torrent  pass’d, 
 
 My  soul  shall  reach  that  holy  shore, 
 
 That  quiet,  peaceful  home,  at  last; 
 
 Then  death  shall  ne’er  our  spirits  sever, 
 
 But  we  shall  meet,  nor  part  for  ever. 
 
 TO  HER  INFANT  SON,  BORN  AFTER  HIS  FATHER’S 
 DEATH.  WRITTEN  IN  1820. 
 
 Sleep  on,  sleep  on,  thou  little  stranger, 
 
 Ere  thy  birth  an  orphan  made, 
 
 Usher’d  into  life  and  danger 
 
 ’Neath  afflictions  deepest  shade. 
 
 A  father’s  eye  shall  never  meet  thee 
 With  affection’s  kindly  glow ; 
 
 A  father’s  welcome  ne’er  shall  greet  thee, 
 
 Baby,  in  this  world  of  woe. 
 
 Death,  that  parent,  friend,  did  sever 
 From  this  widow’d  heart  of  mine; 
 
 Quench’d  that  eye’s  fond  glance  for  ever, 
 
 Ere  this  little  life  was  thine. 
 
478 
 
 Often  now  the  burning  tear 
 
 From  thy  mother’s  eye  is  streaming, 
 
 As  she  bends,  ’twixt  joy  and  fear, 
 
 O’er  thy  infant  form  so  dear ; 
 
 Thine,  the  while,  serenely  beaming — 
 
 “  Why  the  tear  that  dims  thine  eye, 
 
 Ah,  my  mother,  tell  me  why?” 
 
 Not  because  high  Heaven  did  pour 
 On  me  alone  that  storm  of  sorrow ; 
 
 And  not  because  time’s  fleeting  wing 
 Shall  never,  on  its  pinions,  bring 
 To  me  the  long  deferr’d  to-morrow 
 Which  shall  that  friend  again  restore. 
 ******* 
 
 But  a  dang’rous  sea  thou’rt  crossing; 
 
 He,  thy  guide,  to  heaven  has  gone ; 
 
 Storms  that  ocean  deep  are  tossing; — 
 
 Baby,  thou  art  still  alone. 
 
 And,  oh  !  what  evils  may  betide  thee  ? 
 
 Treacherous  rocks,  and  shoals,  and  snares ; 
 
 No  father’s  watchful  eye  to  guide  thee  ! 
 
 ’Tis  this  that  wakes  thy  mother’s  tears. 
 
 The  following  lines  were  added  after  the  death  of  this  child ,  in  1821. 
 
 ’Tis  over;  past,  for  ever  past,  that  sea 
 Of  tempest,  snare,  and  storm,  so  late  my  dread. 
 
 No  more  I  view  thee,  darling  boy,  exposed 
 Unfriended,  on  that  frowning  deep,  where  late 
 Thy  slender  little  bark  first  tried  its  skill. 
 
 The  angry  wave  on  thee  shall  beat  again 
 Its  foaming  billow  never.  Nor  rock,  nor  shoal, 
 
 Nor  whirlpool’s  fatal  eddy,  nor  the  ills 
 Innumerable  which  my  fancy  painted, 
 
 Shall  ever  harm  thee  more.  Safe  art  thou  lodged 
 Beyond  the  reach  of  all  I  felt  or  fear’d. 
 
 Oh !  how  I  fear’d  for  thee  !  how  truant  thought, 
 Presumptuous,  unbelieving  as  I  was, 
 
 Would  *  *  *  *  • 
 
479 
 
 ON  THE  DEATH  OF  AN  INFANT  SON.  WRITTEN 
 
 IN  NOV.  1821.* 
 
 Ah  !  where  is  he,  with  the  eyes  so  blue, 
 
 And  the  shining  yellow  hair, 
 
 And  the  lofty  brow,  still  serenely  mild, 
 
 And  the  cheek  so  angel  fair  ? 
 
 Oh,  spirit  loved !  who  like  vision  of  light, 
 
 Stole  across  my  path,  in  that  fearful  night 
 When  the  storm  was  high,  and  thy  sire  far  away, 
 
 And  smiled  through  the  darkness, — how  short  was  thy  stay ! 
 Like  fleeting  cloud  that  by  tempest  is  driven 
 Athwart  the  stormy  sky, 
 
 Or  dew-drop  that’s  wept,  at  close  of  even, 
 
 From  Nature’s  humid  eye. 
 
 That  cheek  was  fair ;  but  ’tis  deadly  pale, 
 
 The  last  living  tint  has  fled; 
 
 And  the  cherish’d  form,  on  this  bosom  that  slept, 
 
 In  the  damp  tomb  rests  its  head. 
 
 Soon  was  finish’d  thine  errand  to  this  distant  shore, 
 
 And  thy  mission  of  love,  dearest  babe,  soon  was  o’er. 
 
 In  my  soul’s  saddest  hour  of  distress  wert  thou  given, 
 
 To  assuage  the  deep  anguish,  then  vanish  to  heaven. 
 
 Though  oblivion’s  dews  settle  fast  on  thee  now; 
 
 There’s  one  heart  shall  forget  thee  never; 
 
 And  the  stroke  that  shall  end  all  my  sorrows  below, 
 
 Shall  unite  us  again  for  ever. 
 
 ♦  Published  in  the  Boston  Recorder  of  Dec.  8, 1821. 
 
V 
 
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 .r.  i  ' 
 
SERMON. 
 
 Romans  viii.  28. 
 
 “  All  things  work  together  for  good  to  them  that 
 
 love  God.” 
 
 The  method  of  instruction  generally  pursued  in  the 
 Scriptures,  concurs  with  what  we  know  of  the  nature 
 of  the  human  mind,  in  evincing,  that  the  way  to  in¬ 
 culcate  most  effectually  the  doctrines  of  religion,  is  to 
 exhibit  them  in  the  form  of  living  and  palpable  action. 
 Every  day’s  experience  teaches,  that  the  impression 
 made  on  the  mind,  and  the  effect  produced  on  the 
 character,  by  formal  statements,  and  abstract  discus¬ 
 sions  of  truth,  is  feeble  and  trifling,  compared  with 
 the  influence  of  the  same  truth,  when  exhibited  and 
 illustrated  by  a  series  of  definite  and  intelligible  con¬ 
 duct.  So  obvious  is  this  principle  of  human  nature, 
 that  it  is  assumed  as  an  axiom,  that  instruction  com¬ 
 municated  by  example  is  far  more  effectual  than  that 
 given  in  the  form  of  precept.  And  if  God  has  un¬ 
 dertaken  to  instruct  our  apostate  race  in  the  know¬ 
 ledge  of  his  perfections,  and  of  their  duty  to  him,  for 
 the  purpose  of  improving  their  character,  and  thus 
 
 X  41 
 
482 
 
 promoting  their  happiness,  we  may  be  sure  that  the 
 form  in  which  he  has  conveyed  that  instruction  is 
 the  one  best  adapted  to  attain  the  end  for  which  it 
 was  communicated, — to  produce  upon  the  mind  the 
 impression  desired,  and  exert  a  real  and  lasting  in¬ 
 fluence  upon  the  character.  What  then  is  the 
 method  he  has  adopted?  Not  merely  the  form  of 
 general  statements  and  abstract  discussions,  but 
 
 o 
 
 chiefly  that  of  visible  and  intelligible  conduct.  He 
 has  not  only  given  us  in  his  Word,  distinct  and  ac¬ 
 curate  statements  of  the  attributes  which  constitute 
 his  adorable  character;  he  has  also  presented  to  our 
 contemplation  a  most  interesting  series  of  actions,  in 
 which  his  perfections,  as  far  as  we  are  concerned  to 
 know  them,  are  fully  and  perspicuously  displayed. 
 He  has  not  only  stated  the  requirements  of  his  law, 
 and  affirmed  its  immutability;  he  has  also  given  us 
 an  example  of  perfect  conformity  to  it  in  the  life  ol 
 the  Saviour,  and  shown  us  its  indispensableness,  in 
 exacting  from  him,  when  made  under  it  in  our  behalf, 
 a  full  equivalent  for  its  penalty.  He  has  not  only 
 told  us  what  are  the  characteristics  of  his  children, 
 but  he  has  exhibited  them  to  our  inspection  in  the 
 experience  of  the  saints.  He  has  not  only  pledged 
 his  veracity,  and  confirmed  the  declaration  with  an 
 oath,  that  his  promises  shall  be  fulfilled ;  he  has  also 
 shown  us,  in  the  history  of  his  people,  that  his  faith¬ 
 fulness  never  fails.  And  that  these  exhibitions  may 
 not  be  in  vain,  he  has  directed  us  to  search  the 
 Scriptures  daily ;  frequently  and  habitually  to  con¬ 
 template  the  development  there  made  oi  his  char¬ 
 acter  and  will ;  to  see  how  he  walked,  who  left  us  an 
 example  that  we  should  follow  his  steps ;  to  observe 
 
483 
 
 his  dealings  with  his  chosen,  that  we  may  learn  to  trust 
 in  his  mercy,  and  be  followers  of  those  who  through 
 faith  and  patience  have  inherited  the  promises. 
 
 A  beloved  member  of  this  church  has,  we  believe, 
 recently  entered  upon  that  glorious  inheritance,  whose 
 life  and  character  strikingly  illustrated  the  truth  and 
 efficacy  of  our  holy  religion;  whose  worth  was  so 
 great,  and  so  universally  acknowledged,  that  an  ex¬ 
 hibition  of  her  character,  for  the  purpose  of  commu¬ 
 nicating  important  instruction,  may  safely  be  made ; 
 whose  death  is  deeply  and  universally  lamented ;  and 
 should  for  that  reason,  as  well  as  on  account  of  the 
 relation  she  sustained  to  this  congregation,  be  care¬ 
 fully  improved. 
 
 This,  I  have  thought,  would  be  most  effectually 
 done  by  employing  her  history  for  the  exhibition  of 
 the  truth  and  efficacy  of  those  doctrines  which  she 
 so  ardently  loved,  and  so  highly  adorned.  In  de¬ 
 termining  what  particular  truth  is  most  strikingly 
 exhibited  in  her  experience,  I  may  have  erred.  If 
 I  have,  it  is  to  be  attributed  to  a  mistake  of  judg¬ 
 ment,  not  to  the  want  of  opportunity  to  know  her 
 history  and  character.  For  three  years  I  have  been 
 favoured  with  her  intimate  acquaintance,  in  circum¬ 
 stances  peculiarly  calculated  to  test  and  exhibit  her 
 character.  During  the  whole  of  this  period,  I  have 
 enjoyed,  I  have  reason  to  believe,  her  entire  confi¬ 
 dence,  not  only  as  her  pastor,  but  as  her  friend.  I 
 have  had  a  most  intimate  knowledge  of  her  consola- 
 tions  and  trials,  her  sorrows  and  joys ;  and,  through 
 her  kindness  and  confidence,  I  have  been  furnished 
 with  the  best  means  of  learning  what  were  the  deal¬ 
 ings  of  God  with  her,  and  what  the  effect  of  those 
 
 x  2 
 
484 
 
 dealings  upon  her,  previously  to  our  personal  ac¬ 
 quaintance.* 
 
 The  truth  which  her  history  most  strikingly  illus¬ 
 trates  is,  if  I  mistake  not,  the  precious  and  consol¬ 
 ing  one  asserted  in  our  text,  c<  All  things  work 
 
 TOGETHER  FOR  GOOD  TO  THEM  THAT  LOVE  God.” 
 
 That  the  character  here  spoken  of  was  hers, 
 those  who  hear  me,  and  to  whom  she  was  so  well 
 known,  will  not  question.  If  those  who  love  God 
 can,  in  any  instances,  be  known  by  us,  I  hesitate  not 
 to  say,  that  our  departed  friend  was  of  that  happy 
 number. 
 
 She  was  deeply  impressed  with  her  obligations  to 
 her  Maker  and  Redeemer,  with  the  sinfulness  of 
 her  heart,  and  her  need  of  an  interest  in  the  merits 
 and  grace  of  her  Saviour,  when  in  her  sixth  year. 
 These  impressions  were  renewed  when  she  was 
 about  ten  years  of  age.  The  latter  of  these  was 
 regarded  by  herself,  as  the  time  of  her  translation 
 from  the  power  of  darkness  into  the  kingdom  of 
 God’s  dear  Son. 
 
 The  event  has  shown  that  she  was  designed  by 
 her  Creator  for  great  usefulness  on  earth,  and — we 
 think  we  are  warranted  in  adding — for  an  exalted 
 station  in  heaven.  To  fit  her  for  this,  was,  of  course, 
 most  effectually  to  promote  her  highest  good. 
 
 For  this  purpose  the  Author  of  her  being,  in  the 
 first  place,  conferred  upon  her  every  requisite  natural 
 
 *  Her  Journal  and  other  private  writings,  which  she  committed 
 to  me  in  trust  for  her  children.  It  may  be  proper  to  add,  that 
 from  the  conversation  had  with  her  at  the  time  alluded  to,  I  am 
 satisfied  that  an  expectation  that  any  of  her  writings  would  be 
 published  after  her  death  had  never  entered  her  mind. 
 
485 
 
 endowment.  Her  talents  were  of  a  high  order ;  her 
 disposition  ardent  and  aspiring,  but,  at  the  same 
 time,  amiable  and  attractive.  And  she  was,  through 
 life,  favoured  with  the  means  and  opportunities  for 
 mental  cultivation,  and  was  always  disposed  diligently 
 to  improve  them.  But  intellectual  endowments  and 
 natural  accomplishments,  were  not  all  that  were  ne¬ 
 cessary  to  fit  her  for  fulfilling  the  designs  of  Jeho¬ 
 vah  concerning  her.  Those  powers  and  accomplish¬ 
 ments  must  be  sanctified,  and  that  in  a  high  degree. 
 For  this  purpose,  he  not  only  early  took  possession 
 of  her  heart  by  his  Holy  Spirit,  he  also  led  her 
 through  a  course  of  discipline,  eminently  calculated 
 to  correct  the  few  faults  in  her  character,  and  pro¬ 
 duce  an  unusual  deadness  to  the  world,  deep  humi¬ 
 lity,  and  strong  confidence  in  God,  with  uncommon 
 devotedness  to  his  service  and  the  promotion  of  his 
 glory. 
 
 In  the  early  part  of  her  Christian  course,  she  had 
 much  and  a  very  high  degree  of  religious  joy ;  felt 
 as  if  she  could  do  any  thing,  yea,  even  die  for 
 Christ ;  had  the  most  delightful  anticipations  of 
 heaven,  and  would  sit  for  hours  meditating,  almost 
 in  a  state  of  ecstacy,  upon  the  vanity  of  the  world, 
 the  frailty  of  life,  and  the  happiness  in  reserve  for 
 the  righteous.*  But,  like  most  converts  who  have 
 not  yet  been  called  to  the  trial  of  their  faith,  she 
 knew  little  of  her  own  heart.  There  was  in  it,  as 
 she  afterwards  discovered,  much  depravity, — much  of 
 self-confidence,  and  of  a  spirit  which,  when  her  cir¬ 
 cumstances  favoured  such  an  exhibition  of  it,  would 
 
 *  Journal,  1814,  April  24. 
 
486 
 
 assume  the  form  of  pride ;  she  would,  if  left  to  her¬ 
 self,  do  little,  yea,  nothing  for  Christ.  To  prepare 
 her  for  what  God  had  designed  her,  it  was  necessary 
 that  these  deficiencies  and  mistakes  should  be  dis¬ 
 covered  to  her,  and  corrected that  her  pride  should 
 be  subdued,  and  her  self-confidence  destroyed ;  that 
 she  should  be  effectually  taught  that  she  was  nothing, 
 and  that  Christ  was  all  in  all.  If  we  shall  find  that 
 the  dealings  of  God  with  her  were  eminently  calcu¬ 
 lated  to  produce,  and  did  actually  produce,  this  result, 
 it  will  be  evident  that  his  dispensations  towards  her 
 were  for  her  good. 
 
 Before  distinctly  noticing  these  dispensations,  it 
 is  requisite  to  state,  that  she  had,  naturally,  a  most 
 tender  sensibility;  which,  while  it  made  her,  as  al¬ 
 ready  intimated,  ardent  in  her  attachments  and  in 
 her  desires  to  do  good,  also  produced  a  proneness  to 
 forebode  evil  where  none  was  impending,  to  magnify 
 and  shrink  from  difficulties  that  actually  existed^  and 
 caused  her  to  suffer  most  intensely  under  affliction. 
 If  any  are  disposed  to  call  this  a  weakness,  let  them 
 know,  that  it  was  this  very  trait  in  her  natural  char¬ 
 acter  that  gave  it  its  principal  loveliness,  and  laid  the 
 foundation  for  those  exalted  religious  attainments  bv 
 which  she  was  so  distinguished. 
 
 Let  us  now  contemplate  the  means  which  God 
 employed  for  the  purpose  of  teaching  her  those  les¬ 
 sons  which  we  have  seen  she  needed  to  learn,  to  fit 
 
 her  for  the  accomplishment  of  his  gracious  purposes 
 concerning  her. 
 
 1.  He  placed  her,  when  quite  young,*  and  inex- 
 
 *  Nineteen. 
 
487 
 
 perienced,  in  a  most  responsible  and  difficult  station ; 
 where  her  character  and  conduet  would  be  scrutinized 
 by  multitudes ;  where  hundreds  of  her  own  sex  would 
 be  looking  to  her  example  as  a  model  for  their  imi¬ 
 tation  ;  and  where  her  talents  would  cause  it  to  be 
 expected  of  her  to  take  the  lead  in  most  of  the  efforts 
 made  by  females  for  extending  the  Redeemer’s  king¬ 
 dom; — a  task  far  more  difficult  then  than  now,  be¬ 
 cause  general  efforts  of  benevolence  by  females  had 
 but  recently  commenced,  not  a  few  were  disposed  to 
 consider  all  such  efforts  on  their  part  wholly  im¬ 
 proper,  and  it  was  yet  to  be  determined  what  kind 
 and  degree  of  exertions  were  consistent  with  pro¬ 
 priety.  He  gave  her  a  strong  desire  to  be  useful, 
 eminently  useful  in  the  station  he  had  assigned  her ; 
 — a  desire  to  live  in  such  a  manner  as  to  convince 
 her  family,  and  all  with  whom  she  had  intercourse, 
 that  the  glory  of  God  was  her  ultimate  aim  in  all 
 that  she  did,  and  the  enjoyment  of  him  her  most 
 ardent  aspiration,  her  unremitted  pursuit,  her  un¬ 
 speakable  comfort, — to  prepare  her  children  for  do¬ 
 ing  good  on  earth,  and  inheriting  the  kingdom  of 
 heaven, — to  be  the  means  of  advancing  her  fellow- 
 Christians  in  holiness,  and  of  recommending  religion, 
 by  her  example  and  conversation,  to  the  impenitent, 
 — to  employ,  in  the  most  discreet  and  effectual  man¬ 
 ner,  her  talents  and  opportunities  for  contributing  to 
 the  extension  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ.  But  when 
 she  contemplated,  and  was  about  to  enter  upon,  the 
 actual  performance  of  these  duties,  she  was  fre¬ 
 quently  so  impressed  with  their  magnitude,  and  the 
 difficulty  of  discharging  them,  as  almost  to  sink  in 
 despondency.  Thus  she  was  effectually  taught  her 
 
488 
 
 own  weakness,  her  entire  impotency;  made  sensible 
 that  in  Christ  alone  she  could  obtain  strength  equal 
 to  her  day ;  and  led  to  apply  to  him  for  grace  to 
 help  in  her  times  of  need,  in  that  spirit  of  humility 
 and  entire  dependence  which  always  obtains  the 
 blessing  it  seeks.  And,  as  a  natural  consequence 
 of  this  discipline,  she  became  more  and  more  dis¬ 
 trustful  of  herself,  and  attained,  continually,  higher 
 views  of  that  faith  which,  when  in  steady  and  vigor¬ 
 ous  exercise,  will  carry  us  through  every  duty  and 
 every  trial.  So  that  she  could  say,  that  she  had 
 learned  from  her  own  experience,  that  “  God  will 
 lequire  nothing  of  us  which,  if  we  will  look  to  him, 
 he  will  not  give  us  grace  to  perform.” 
 
 2.  But  this  was  not  the  only  discipline  her  hea¬ 
 venly  Father  employed  in  fitting  her  for  the  high 
 destination  for  which  he  intended  her.  He  also 
 repeatedly  and  severely  afflicted  her. 
 
 I  have  already  had  occasion  to  remark,  that  her 
 attachments  were  uncommonly  strong.  She  loved 
 her  friends  with  tenderness  and  ardour.  To  pro¬ 
 mote  their  interests  and  enjoy  their  society,  contri¬ 
 buted,  in  an  unusual  degree,  to  her  happiness.  The 
 loss  of  them  would,  therefore,  be  eminently  calcu¬ 
 lated  to  teach  her  the  vanity  of  earthly  good,  the 
 utter  impossibility  of  finding,  in  herself,  or  in  any 
 creature,  a  source  of  permanent  enjoyment,  and  to 
 cause  her  to  give  her  heart  entirely  to  God,  to  take 
 Christ  and  the  inheritance  he  has  provided  for  his 
 people  as  her  supreme,  her  only  portion ;  and  thus 
 to  contribute  to  her  advancement  in  holiness.  Few 
 persons  have,  in  the  short  period  to  which  her  life 
 was  extended,  been  called  more  frequently  to  mourn 
 
489 
 
 the  death  of  friends,  or  to  suffer  bereavements  more 
 afflicting  than  hers.  Though  not  thirty-three  years 
 of  age  when  herself  removed  from  this  state  of  trial, 
 most  of  her  connexions  and  early  intimate  acquaint¬ 
 ances  had  been  taken  before  her.  And  now  mark 
 the  illustration  furnished  by  her  history  of  the  truth 
 asserted  in  our  text,  in  connexion  with  that  other 
 precious  assurance  given  to  the  people  of  God,  that 
 66  as  their  days,  so  shall  their  strength  be.”  In  the 
 early  part  of  the  year  1814,  she  was  led,  in  conse¬ 
 quence  of  an  indisposition  which  seemed  to  threaten 
 the  disease  that  ultimately  caused  her  death,  to  re¬ 
 solve  i6  to  set  apart,  from  that  time,  a  short  portion 
 of  every  day  for  special  prayer  for  divine  aid  in  every 
 season  of  affliction,  and  especially  for  strength  to 
 conquer  her  last  enemy,  death.”  A  resolution 
 which,  it  is  believed,  she  kept  as  far  as  circumstances 
 would  admit,  to  the  close  of  life ;  and  which  she  was 
 not  led  to  adopt  and  observe  in  vain.  In  a  little 
 time  her  series  of  bereavements  commenced.  This 
 resolution  was  adopted  in  May.  In  the  following 
 July,  she  was  called  to  mourn  the  death  of  her  father; 
 and  in  December  1817,  of  her  mother.  In  Sep¬ 
 tember  1819,  she  was  written  widow,  and  her  pros¬ 
 pects  in  life  entirely  changed.  In  the  fall  of  1821, 
 two  of  her  children  were  removed  by  death ;  one  of 
 whom,  from  the  name  he  bore,  and  the  circumstances 
 of  his  birth,  was  peculiarly  dear  to  her.  And  these 
 are  but  a  part  of  her  bereavements,  during  the  period 
 in  which  they  occurred.  In  all  these  afflictions  her 
 suffering  was  intense ;  in  their  immediate  prospect, 
 she  felt  as  if  her  feeble  frame  could  not  sustain  them ; 
 when  they  came,  her  heart  bled  at  every  pore.  In 
 
 x  3 
 
490 
 
 the  death  of  her  excellent  husband,  all  who  hear  me 
 know,  she  incurred  no  common  loss ;  she  felt  as  if 
 every  fountain  of  earthly  happiness  was  exhausted* 
 Her  youngest  child, — “  the  last  bud  of  her  earthly 
 hopes,  the  fair  blossom  which  sprung  up  from  the 
 root  of  her  former  prosperity,”*  to  excite  expecta¬ 
 tions  of  enjoyment  in  nourishing  its  growth  and  see¬ 
 ing  its  fruit,  and  then  wither  and  die, — was  taken 
 from  her  with  scarce  a  moment’s  warning.  The 
 shock  was  almost  overwhelming  $  her  suffering  greater 
 than  any  which,  in  similar  circumstances,  I  ever  wit¬ 
 nessed.  But  her  merciful  Father,  when  he  had 
 thus  taught  her  that  her  strength  was  weakness, 
 uniformly  appeared  for  her  support  and  consolation ; 
 gave  her  such  views  of  the  rectitude  and  goodness  of 
 his  proceedings,  such  manifestations  of  the  fulness 
 and  preciousness  of  Christ,  such  undoubted  tokens 
 of  his  favour,  and  such  sweet  experience  of  the  joys 
 of  communion  with  him,  that  she  soon  became  com¬ 
 posed  and  tranquil,  sustained  her  trials  with  a  forti¬ 
 tude  which  all  who  saw  her  admired,  and  learned 
 that  even  the  most  innocent  and  virtuous  earthly  en¬ 
 joyments  are  vanity,  and  God  the  only  portion  that 
 can  satisfy  the  soul. 
 
 Such  were  the  means  which  God  employed  to  fit 
 her  for  the  accomplishment  of  his  gracious  purposes 
 concerning  her.  Let  us  now  contemplate  their  effect 
 upon  her  character. — The  influence  which  we  have 
 seen  they  were  calculated  to  exert,  and  did,  at  the 
 time,  actually  exert,  was  not  a  transient,  but  a  per¬ 
 manent  one.  She  ascertained  the  weaknesses  and 
 
 *  Journal,  1821,  Sept.  1. 
 
491 
 
 deficiencies  of  her  natural  character,  and  her  beset¬ 
 ting  sins,  and  learned  how  to  resist  and  subdue  the 
 one,  and  correct  the  other.  And  so  complete  was 
 her  success,  that  few,  if  any,  of  her  later  acquaint¬ 
 ances  would  have  suspected,  had  she  not  left  us  a 
 record  of  the  fact,  that  she  had  any  such  conflicts  to 
 sustain.  She  acquired  a  permanent  and  unusually 
 deep  sense  of  the  depravity  and  deceitfulness  of  the 
 human  heart,  and  of  the  vileness  and  hatefulness  of 
 sin,  in  every  form  and  degree,  in  the  heart  as  well  as 
 in  the  life.  She  obtained  an  extensive  and  accurate 
 knowledge  of  the  insidious  influence  of  the  corrupt 
 propensities  of  our  nature,  and  of  the  means  by 
 which  they  are  to  be  detected,  and  resisted,  and 
 overcome ;  and  thus  became  eminently  qualified  to 
 guide  those  who  were  inquiring  the  way  of  life,  and 
 th  ose  who  had  entered  upon  the  path  of  the  just, 
 and  to  comfort  those  who  were  mourning  in  Zion. 
 She  was  made  deeply  sensible  of  her  utter  destitu¬ 
 tion  of  every  good  thing,  and  led  to  apply  habitually 
 to  Christ,  ee  as  an  empty  sinner  to  a  full  Saviour 
 so  that,  although  in  view  of  the  multiform  duties  of 
 life,  she  often  exclaimed,  <c  How  am  I  sufficient  for 
 these  things?”  she  could  add,  “  Yet  I  do  trust  that 
 I  shall  be  enabled  to  do  all  things  through  Christ 
 strengthening  me.”f  She  was  induced  to  strive  to 
 keep  constantly  near  to  God;  for  experience  had 
 taught  her,  that  when  she  66  felt  entirely  sundered 
 from  earthly  hope  and  happiness,  and  looked  to  God 
 as  her  only  portion,  she  found  his  arm  strong,  his 
 grace  sufficient,  his  presence  precious,  his  promises 
 
 Journal,  1813,  Dec.  5. 
 
 f  Journal,  1814,  April  24. 
 
492 
 
 sure ;  she  was  happy  in  his  will  here,  and  looked 
 forward  to  be  happy  in  his  love  and  presence  for 
 ever.”*  This  experience  of  the  happiness  of  com¬ 
 munion  with  God,  united  with  her  sense  of  duty  to 
 strive  to  be  perfect  as  her  Father  in  heaven  is  per¬ 
 fect,  produced  an  ardent  desire,  and  most  strenuous 
 efforts,  to  grow  in  grace,  to  attain  greater,  yea,  com¬ 
 plete  conformity  to  the  divine  likeness.  Often  did 
 her  “  spirit  faint  with  desires  to  keep  under  the  body 
 of  sin,  her  heart  pant  to  be  near  and  like  her  God.”f 
 Life  she  considered  principally  desirable  as  a  medium 
 of  glorifying  God.  To  live  to  the  flesh,  even  if 
 there  were  no  difference  to  be  made  between  the 
 righteous  and  the  wicked  at  death,  seemed  to  her 
 undesirable.  Those  blessed  words,  to  be  holy, 
 frequently  kindled  desires  in  her  soul  inexpressibly 
 more  elevated  and  ardent,  and  produced  joys  more 
 delightful  and  transporting,  than  all  the  combined 
 allurements  of  the  world. ^  Thus  she  attained  an 
 uncommon  degree  of  superiority  to  the  world;  carried 
 with  her,  into  every  circle,  a  spirit  of  elevated  piety, 
 an  ardent  desire  to  honour  her  Saviour,  and  promote 
 the  spiritual  interests  of  men.  She  discharged 
 every  duty  of  life  in  the  fear  of  God,  and  with  a 
 fidelity  seldom  equalled.  She  became  an  example 
 of  Christian  excellence  and  usefulness,  which  all  ad¬ 
 mired,  and  her  fellow-disciples  regarded  as  a  model 
 worthy  of  their  careful  imitation.  She  exhibited 
 the  power  and  preciousness  of  the  principles  she 
 loved,  even  unto  the  end;  and,  we  trust,  ascended 
 
 *  Journal,  1820,  Jan.  14.  f  Journal,  1815,  April  27. 
 |  Journal,  1813,  Nov.  17. 
 
493 
 
 in  triumph  to  the  mansions  prepared  for  her  in  the 
 skies. 
 
 Such,  through  grace,  were  the  effects  of  the  divine 
 dispensations  toward  her.  Who  then  can  doubt  that 
 they  were  all  ordered  in  mercy,  and  made  to  work 
 together  for  her  good  ?  She  now  certainly  regards 
 them  in  this  light.  She  did  thus  regard  them  when 
 she,  as  yet,  knew  their  design  and  influence  but  in 
 part.  <c  How  good  was  God,”  she  would  say,  in 
 reference  to  her  trials,  “  thus  to  imbitter  my  earthly 
 cistern,  that  I  might  not  sit  and  sip  to  my  everlast¬ 
 ing  regret  and  destruction  !”*  tf<  My  path  has  been 
 rough;  but  I  have  not  had  one  trial  which  my  hea¬ 
 venly  Father  could,  in  faithfulness,  have  spared  me. 
 He  has  dealt  with  me  only  in  loving-kindness  and 
 tender  mercy.  I  have  not  a  doubt  now,  I  shall  see 
 hereafter  that  all  his  dealings  with  me  have  been 
 for  my  good.”f — Verily,  “  All  things  do  work 
 TOGETHER  FOR  GOOD  TO  THEM  THAT  LOVE  Goi).” 
 
 1.  The  first  reflection  suggested  by  the  view  v.  e 
 have  taken,  applies  especially  to  those  in  this  assem¬ 
 bly  who  know  nothing,  by  experience,  of  the  conso¬ 
 lations  of  piety.  It  is  this  : — How  precious,  how 
 invaluable,  the  possession  of  those  consolations,  even 
 in  the  present  life  !  The  world  in  which  we  live  is 
 a  world  of  disappointment  and  trial.  None  of  our 
 race  are  entirely  exempt  from  affliction.  66  Man  is 
 born  unto  trouble,  as  the  sparks  fly  upward.”  Is  it 
 not  a  privilege,  an  invaluable  blessing,  to  carry  with 
 us,  while  passing  through  this  world  of  sorrow,  the 
 
 *  Journal,  1812,  Aug.  11. 
 
 f  The  substance  of  a  remark  made  during  her  last  sickness. 
 
494 
 
 assurance  that  our  afflictions,  as  well  as  our  mercies, 
 shall  all  be  made  to  work  together  for  our  good? 
 What  happiness,  that  deserves  the  name,  can  there 
 be  in  such  a  world,  without  the  consolations  and  the 
 hopes  of  piety  ?  “I  often  wonder,”  said  she,  on  a 
 certain  occasion,  whose  voice  this  day  addresses  us 
 from  the  tomb,  ct  I  often  wonder,  when  I  look  at 
 people  who  have  no  religion,  what  can  be  their  sup¬ 
 port  through  the  wilderness  of  this  world.  I  am 
 almost  at  a  loss  to  account  for  their  apparent  happi¬ 
 ness.  How,  for  instance,  can  affliction  be  tolerable, 
 except  as  the  soul  is  enabled  to  repose,  with  some 
 confidence,  upon  the  wisdom  and  equity  of  the  divine 
 administration  ?  How  can  comforts  be  relished,  when 
 we  know  that  they  may  all  be  taken  from  us  within 
 one  short  hour  ?  What  can  reconcile  the  mind  to 
 its  complicated  vexations  and  trials,  which  places  its 
 supreme  hopes  of  happiness  upon  the  changing  things 
 of  this  world  ?  And,  as  to  motives  of  living,  take 
 away  the  primary  one  of  the  Christian — the  desire 
 to  glorify  God  and  be  useful  to  men — and  I  hardly 
 know  what  one  could  wish  to  live  for  in  such  a  world. 
 When  I  see  a  person  of  keen  sensibilities  and  lively 
 affections,  drooping  under  the  weight  of  sorrow  result¬ 
 ing  from  the  unfeeling  conduct  of  those  about  him, 
 or  from  any  of  those  incidents  in  providence  so  over¬ 
 whelming  to  the  generous  heart,  I  exclaim  to  myself, 
 Ah  !  how  that  man  needs  religion  !  That  would 
 set  a  firm  stepping-place  upon  the  stormy  surge;  and 
 with  such  a  foundation,  he  could  not  be  moved.  It 
 is  the  hope  of  heaven  and  its  concomitants  alone,  that 
 can  turn  this  valley  of  tears  into  an  abode  of  peace, 
 and  hope,  and  joy.  The  pleasures  of  religion  are 
 
495 
 
 unmingled  pleasures.  Here  no  dash  of  bitter  offends 
 the  taste,  no  alloy,  no  corroding  mixture  mars  the 
 enjoyment.  How  do  earthly  comforts  dwindle — yes, 
 they  are  indeed  lighter  than  air,  more  frail  than 
 bubbles — compared  with  that  peace,  passing  under¬ 
 standing,  which  is  shed  abroad  in  the  heart  by  the 
 Holy  Ghost.”* — This  testimony,  my  friends,  I  know 
 you  feel  to  be  worthy  of  your  regard ;  for  you  re¬ 
 spected  the  piety,  you  loved  the  worth  of  its  author. 
 Let  it  be  remembered,  and  so  improved,  that  when 
 you  meet  her  at  the  judgment-seat,  she  may  find  it 
 was  not  given  in  vain. 
 
 2.  Let  those  who  have  a  good  hope  that  they  are 
 interested  in  the  Divine  promises  learn,  in  whatso¬ 
 ever  state  they  are,  therewith  to  be  content.  The 
 terms  of  that  covenant,  my  Christian  brethren,  in 
 which  you  trust,  and  which  you  know  is  ordered  in 
 all  things  and  sure,  render  it  certain,  that  whatever 
 be  the  dispensations  of  providence  toward  you,  they 
 are  the  fruit  of  your  heavenly  Father’s  love, — just 
 what  He,  who  knows  all  your  necessities,  and  what 
 will  be  the  influence  of  his  dealings  with  you,  sees 
 to  be,  at  the  time,  most  conducive  to  your  happiness, 
 as  well  as  to  his  own  glory.  And  can  you  not  con¬ 
 fide  in  his  wisdom,  and  goodness,  and  fidelity  ?  The 
 whole  history  we  have  been  contemplating  testifies 
 the  safety  and  happiness  of  doing  so.  The  promi¬ 
 nent  trait  in  the  piety  of  our  departed  friend,  was 
 confidence  in  God.  She  hoped  that  she  had  given 
 herself  to  him ;  and  she  had  no  doubt  that,  if  the 
 surrender  had  been  sincere,  he  would  do  with  her, 
 
 *  Journal,  1815,  June  29;  and  1814,  June  10. 
 
496 
 
 in  all  things,  well.  She  longed  and  prayed  for  per¬ 
 fect  resignation  to  the  divine  will ;  and,  under  her 
 severest  trials,  she  could  say,  tc  It  is  a  part  of  God’s 
 infinitely  perfect  plan  of  government.  I  therefore 
 lay  my  hand  upon  my  mouth,  and  say,  fi  Thy  will 
 be  done.’  ”  She  strongly  felt,  and  often  mentioned, 
 the  consoling  truth,  for  the  encouragement  of  others, 
 that  God  would  carry  his  people  through  every  duty 
 and  every  trial,  if  they  would  only  place  their  con¬ 
 fidence  in  him.  It  was  her  joy  and  consolation, 
 that  Jehovah  reigns ;  her  delight  to  commit  herself 
 and  all  her  interests,  to  his  disposal.  To  be  willing 
 to  be,  to  do,  and  to  suffer,  just  what  God  pleases ;  to 
 to  be  satisfied  with  all  that  he  does  now,  and  satisfied 
 to  have  him  do  what  shall  seem  to  him  good  here¬ 
 after  ; — cc  this,  this,”  she  would  say,  u  is  happiness ; 
 this,  I  think,  is  a  foretaste  of  heaven.”  And  this 
 was  the  habitual  frame  of  her  mind  for  several  months 
 before  her  death ;  in  this  frame,  her  spirit  took  its 
 flight  to  the  eternal  world.  If  you,  my  brethren, 
 would  experience  the  consolations  by  which  she  was 
 cheered,  while  passing  through  the  wilderness  of  this 
 world :  if  you  wish  your  latter  end  to  be  like  hgrs, 
 cultivate  the  same  spirit.  Trust  in  the  Lord  at  all 
 times,  and  you  shall  never  be  desolate ;  you  shall  be 
 as  Mount  Zion,  which  cannot  be  moved. 
 
 3.  That  we  may  derive  the  greatest  benefit  from 
 the  dispensations  of  Providence,  let  us  imitate  the 
 example  of  our  lamented  sister  in  using  the  means 
 of  rightly  improving  them. 
 
 For  this  purpose  she  was  diligent  in  her  endea¬ 
 vours  to  cultivate  personal  piety.  She  daily  studied, 
 with  care,  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  devoted  a  part 
 
497 
 
 of  her  time  to  religious  meditation.  A  portion  of 
 every  day,  commonly  in  the  early  part  of  it,  she  spent 
 in  secret  prayer.  It  was  on  the  altar  of  secret  de¬ 
 votion  that  she  kindled  that  pure  flame  winch  was 
 generally  seen  burning  so  brightly  when  she  was 
 engaged  in  the  active  duties  of  life.  She  frequently 
 examined  herself,  not  merely  for  the  purpose  of  ascer¬ 
 taining  whether  she  might  hope  that  she  was  a  child 
 of  God,  but  also,  whether  she  had  made  any  pro¬ 
 gress  in  the  divine  life.  At  the  close  of  every  day, 
 her  conduct,  and  the  temper  of  heart  she  had  main¬ 
 tained  were  reviewed :  the  evening  preceding  the 
 Sabbath  was  especially  devoted  to  this  important  duty. 
 If  at  any  time  she  found  she  had  declined  in  her 
 Christian  course,  or  any  trial  was  apprehended,  or 
 any  duty  of  peculiar  difficulty  to  be  performed,  she 
 observed  a  season  of  private  fasting  and  prayer.  She 
 loved  the  sanctuary  and  its  solemn  services,  and  was 
 careful  to  have  her  mind  in  a  devotional  frame  while 
 attending  upon  them,  reflecting  as  she  entered,  and 
 cherishing  the  impression  while  she  remained  within, 
 the  sacred  edifice,  that  she  might  never  enter  it  again. 
 She  viewed  attendance  upon  the  holy  communion  as 
 a  most  important  and  solemn  service,  and  was  always 
 careful  to  prepare  herself  for  it,  by  self-examination, 
 reflection  and  prayer.  She  endeavoured  to  trace,  in 
 every  event,  the  hand  of  God,  and  to  derive,  from 
 every  occurrence,  some  spiritual  instruction. 
 
 Her  religion,  however,  was  not  confined  to  her 
 closet  and  to  the  sanctuary.  She  endeavoured  to 
 carry  it  with  her  into  all  the  business  and  circum¬ 
 stances  of  life.  She  did  not,  like  some  professed 
 believers  in  the  doctrines  of  grace,  feel,  that  because 
 
498 
 
 she  was  to  be  saved  by  the  merits  of  Christ  alone, 
 there  was  no  necessity  of  being  careful  to  maintain 
 good  works.  So  far  from  finding  this  to  be  the  in¬ 
 fluence  of  those  doctrines,  which  she  firmly  believed 
 and  ardently  loved,  she  has  left  it  in  testimony  as  the 
 result  of  her  experience,  that,  “  when  her  hope  of 
 acceptance  solely  on  the  ground  of  the  merits  of 
 Christ  was  the  strongest,  she  felt  most  unquench¬ 
 able  desires  to  serve  him  with  her  heart,  her  whole 
 heart.  *  To  glorify  God  and  do  good  to  men  was 
 her  habitual  aim.  The  duties  of  her  family  she 
 endeavoured  to  discharge  with  fidelity,  from  a  re¬ 
 gard  to  the  will  of  Jehovah,  who,  by  placing  her  in 
 that  relation,  had  required  them  at  her  hands.  The 
 intercourse  of  friendship  she  sought  to  make  of  a 
 profitable  character,  remembering,  that  for  our  words 
 as  well  as  for  our  actions,  we  must  give  account  at 
 the  judgment-seat  of  Christ.  She  was  ever  ready 
 to  visit  and  comfort  the  afflicted,  to  instruct  the  ig¬ 
 norant,  to  warn  the  careless,  to  entreat  the  impeni¬ 
 tent  to  be  reconciled  to  God.  She  prayed  much, 
 and  delighted  to  employ  her  counsels  and  efforts  for 
 the  extension  of  the  Redeemer’s  kingdom.  In  the 
 work  of  benevolence  she  has  left  her  sex  a  noble 
 example.  Her  exertions  in  this  cause  are  known 
 to  have  been  great,  and  extended  to  a  variety  of 
 objects,  and  productive  of  a  large  amount  of  good ; 
 yet  they  never  produced  in  her  any  neglect  of  do¬ 
 mestic  duties,  or  any  transgression  of  the  bounds  of 
 strict  propriety.  Daughters  of  Zion,  let  it  be  your 
 ambition  to  follow'  in  the  glorious  path  she  trode. 
 
 *  Journal,  J820,  June  9. 
 
499 
 
 Believers  in  Christ,  make  your  religion  your  govern¬ 
 ing  principle,  the  business  of  your  lives;  and,  when 
 your  career  on  earth  is  about  to  terminate,  you  may 
 say  with  her,  <c  My  Father  hath  done  all  things 
 well ;  he  hath  made  all  things  to  work  together  for 
 my  good.” 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Printed  by  W.  Collins  &  Co. 
 Glasgow. 
 
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