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wish him a seasonable and kindly harvest; and wish you both abundance of happiness; and am, dear sister, his and yours, &c.

LETTER XIV.

MY DEAR FRIEND, I FIND you have had Mr among you lately. Many, I hope, have found abundant benefit from his preaching, and you in particular. He is a shining light, a choice and illustrious ambassador of Jesus Christ. What a savour of his divine Master does he shed abroad whenever he preaches: such a savour as many corruptions cannot overcome, nor all the world suppress. Biddeford, I hope, has experienced this savour. Methinks I now see him in the pulpit, and hear him lifting up his compassionate voice like a trumpet, and proclaiming the acceptable year of the Lord. Methinks I see him displaying the gospel standard, and his tongue touched from the heavenly altar, inviting sinners to flock under his shadow; crying, Come, ye simple ones, whom Satan has beguiled, and Christ shall give you light; come, ye wicked ones, whom Satan has enslaved, and the gracious Redeemer shall set you free; come, ye that have been righteous in your own eyes, forsake this refuge of lies, and enter into the ark before the rains descend, and the floods come, which will sweep away every false hope. O, lean not upon a broken reed! build not upon the sinking sand, but upon the Rock of Ages, the foundation laid in Zion by the hand of Heaven itself. Come unto Jesus ye ruined and undone sinners, for he has a tender heart that is ever open to receive you, and an arm that is omnipotent to save you. Indeed, my friends, those that know Christ's name will seek no other Saviour, nor desire any other good; all their bones will cry out, Lord, unto whom shall we go, but unto thee? thou only hast the words of eternal life. They that know Christ's free goodness, will put their whole trust in

him, and seek no other way to the Father of mercy but through his merit. This is the only claim they have to make for their acceptance-Christ died: but for whom did he die, my dear friends? He gave himself a ransom for all; he was lifted up upon the accursed tree, and out of his side came a fountain of blood and water, where every sinner may bathe, and be made clean. The awakened sons of Adam, that feel their miseries, see a fulness of merit in one drop of that blood, sufficient to atone for the guilt of ten thousand worlds. This fills them with great comfort, although they are vile sinners. What though they are loathsome beggars, taken from the dunghill of uncleanness, that are but now returning from the highways and hedges of every abominable practice? What though they are as beasts before God, very dogs, like that poor Syrophenician woman? yet Christ's saving kindness is so great and unbounded, that he casteth out none who come to him. Here is consolation for the trembling sinner; though he has not a grain of worthiness in himself, yet his Lord has infinite treasures of unmerited grace. They who believe that Christ shed his precious blood for guilty sinners, will cheerfully put their trust in this atonement for pardon. They will say, O! they will often say, with gratitude glowing in their breasts, and tears in their eyes, Be it that my sins are of the deepest crimson dye, and more in number than the hairs of my head, yet the blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin, and washeth a filthy polluted conscience whiter than snow. With him there is no scanty, but plenteous redemption. Be my debts ever so great, ten thousand times ten thousand talents, yet the agonies of the once slaughtered Lamb has paid it to the very uttermost farthing. They who know his righteousness will put their trust in it alone for justification. If I had the righteousness of a saint, says one, O how happy I should be: If I had the righteousness of an angel, says another, I should fear no evil. But I am bold

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to say, that the poorest sinner that believes in Christ has a righteousness infinitely more excellent than either saints or angels. For if the law asks for sinless perfection, it is to be found in my divine Surety. If the law requires an obedience that may stand be fore the burning eye of God, behold it is in Jesus my Mediator. Should the strictest justice arraign me, and the purest holiness make its demands upon me, I remit them both to my dying and obedient Immanuel with him the Father is always well pleased; in him the believer is complete. They who know Christ's power, will put their trust in him for sanctification of heart, and newness of life. Though sin is rooted in my soul, and riveted in my constitution, yet Christ can purge it out. Though it were twisted with every nerve of my flesh, yet he can make the rough tempers smooth, and the crooked dispositions straight; the vile affections, like legions of devils, he can root out, and fill every heart with the ` pure love of God. To which happy state of soul may both you and I be brought while here below; that we may be made meet to ascend to that habitation of God, where nothing unclean can enter, am yours sincerely, &c.

LETTER XV.-TO HIS FATHER.

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Biddeford, Oct. 1. 1742. REVEREND AND HONOURED SIR,-YOUR last, containing the melancholy account of the death of both my aunts, I received. I hope they died in the Lord, and sleep in the bosom of Jesus; and then, truly, they are the happy persons, and we the objects of pity. They rest, and have cast anchor in the harbour; whereas we are still beating on the ocean, and tossed in the storm. If we consider things impartially, this world is our grave; nor do we really live, till we burst the fleshly prison, and get beyond the visible skies.

In the grave is darkness. It is called the shadow of death. And what else is this wretched world?

what but a state of gloominess, a valley of the thickest darkness; where poor mortals grope in spiritual ignorance, and wander up and down, not seeing the things that belong to their peace?

In the grave, and among the tombs, we look for phantoms and apparitions. And what else do we meet with here below? A thousand sorts of happiness present themselves to our wishes, but are unsubstantial and fantastical all. They are a gay delusion, and mock our expectations, as one of those vanishing forms would baulk our embraces.

The grave is the land where all things are forgotten. The ideas of friendship are obliterated, and the dearest relatives are remembered no more. And is not this too true a description of our present state? Do we not unaccountably forget Jesus Christ, our almighty friend, and everlasting glory, our invaluable heritage? Where is the man that remembers his bleeding Saviour on his bed, and thinks upon him when he is waking? No; the Redeemer's inconceivable love, and the precious benefits of his passion, are buried in a deep oblivion. This world then of darkness, apparitions, and forgetfulness, is the grand dormitory; flesh and blood the tomb of our immortal minds,

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I fear I tire you, honoured sir; but because I have no news that you can apprehend or relish, I allow my pen in these excursions. This week I was sent for to visit a lady of this parish, in the same disorder that proved so fatal to my two aunts. lay, poor gentlewoman, most terribly afflicted, and is now released. It put me in mind of the Psalmist's penitential acknowledgment, which I think is never more applicable than in the case of the small-pox: "When thou, Lord, with rebukes dost chasten man for sin, thou makest his beauty to consume away, like as it were a moth fretting a garment." I shall rejoice to hear that you and my mother continue well under all your trouble and

fatigue, and remain, Reverend and Honoured Sir, your most dutiful Son.

LETTER XVI.

Biddeford, Oct. 12. 1742. DEAR SISTER, I RECEIVED your kind letter. It was a pleasure to hear from Hardingstone, the place which gave me birth, and the place which preserves my sister. I am obliged to the Reverend Mr Rose for remembering me, and desire him to accept my best compliments: I hope he will be an instrument of doing much good in your parish. To save souls is the noblest acquisition in the world; infinitely more desirable than to find great spoils. May this be his honour and happiness, and may it be my continual aim!

My poor aunts are no more, they are gone the way of all flesh; eternity has received them; their state is now become unchangeable. Oh! that we may be alarmed by their departure, and labour while we have time, to make our calling and election sure!

My mother tells me you have been much indisposed; I shall rejoice to hear that you are better. Sickness and afflictions are God's call; they are divine admonitions, and warn us not to be fond of the world, but set our affections on things above. May the blessed Jesus make them effectual to our souls!

I wish I had any news to write that you can understand and relish. The small-pox is marking many, and carrying off some among us: it is a privi- . lege of no small value to be past that infectious disorder: I have often thought that it is too lively an emblem of the condition of our souls, by corrupt nature and evil practice. So polluted, so loathsome is our better part in the eye of uncreated purity, till we are washed, till we are cleansed in redeeming blood. May we earnestly long to be washed in that fountain, opened in our Saviour's side, for sin and for uncleanness.

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