such fretfulness and rebellion at the sight of it, that makes me fear that the Lord must lay sorer troubles on me yet. I am afraid that the worst is yet to come; this I dread, and wish to know it too. And indeed I can hardly believe the Lord will let me go free with so light a punishment; for I can see very clear, that it was but little in comparison with my deserts. The Lord bless you, and teach you, that I' may be taught; for I know that it is from your mouth I am to receive it. I believe the Lord's kind providence directed me at first to look there, nor have I looked in vain; for every step I have moved, and do move, is either by a word from your mouth or from your writings: and may God bless you, and reward you for it, is

the prayer of

J. JENKINS.

LETTER VIII.

To the Rev. J. JENKINS.

THE next scrap is safely arrived, and it is very perceptible to me that we gain ground; the outer man gets out of favour, and the old man gets out of office; he is not now the chief speaker, faith and hope are almost as loud, and as distinctly

heard, as he is; he now and then puts in a word in this epistle, which I do not so much wonder at, knowing that every fool will be meddling; especially when sovereign grace is going to put an end to all strife in the court of conscience. Thou knowest, my son, that thou art always welcome. to me, until the cruse of oil fails, and the barrel of meal wastes; which will not be the case, till God sends rain upon the earth; until the cloud of witnesses distil such showers of grace, as shall fill the earth with the knowledge and glory of God, as the waters cover the sea; till then the cruse and barrel will spring in some poor sinner's heart or other. We are both in one hand, my son; the same power that leads me on, holds you up; the sensible, self-despairing, seeking sinner, has got as many promises as the standing saint. As to running away, that is the old story over again; there is no such thing as running away from God, there is no going from his Spirit, there is no fleeing from his presence; if we go into heaven, he is there; and if we make our bed in hell, he is there also. It is not he that runs the fastest that wins the prize; the race is not to the swift; he that moves slow often treads sure, because he pondereth the path of his feet, and is the less liable to stumble in his walk; he that believes shall not make haste. The captive exile is not to go out with haste, nor go forth by flight; the chief Shepherd will go before him, and the glory of the Lord will be his rereward; he shall reflect upon the

glory of the Lord in his happy deliverance, and see the leadings of his providence, and the light of his countenance directing his ways. The way of every coming sinner is hid, for he is led in a way that he knoweth not, and in paths that he hath not known; and if his way is hedged up with thorns, these thorns are intended to prick his conscience, that he may not pursue the old paths of the destroyer. The long-suffering of God toward us, when reflected upon with the buddings of hope, and the expectations of pardon, lead us to repentance; we begin to loathe ourselves, and to feel for, and mourn over, a much-abused Saviour. This influence is pure and truly evangelical, and not legal; for legal operations lead us wholly to pity self, and to rebel against God. The former is drawn forth by believing views of a reconciled father, the latter springs up from the conceptions of an inexorable judge. Whatever discoveries thou hast had of the sinfulness of thy nature, thy past life, and of thy assumption of the ministerial office, without either call to it, or qualifications for it, it is light that hath made it manifest, for, "Whatsoever doth make manifest is light;" wherefore he saith, Awake, thou that sleepest, and come to Christ, and he shall give thee light. God hath done great things for thee; how many poor, blinded, presumptuous, young coxcombs, have run into the sacred office, blinded and puffed up by Satan, with no other sanction than that of old women. They may well be called, My Lady's

men, for they know nothing of, My Lord; but God hath arrested thee, and undeceived thee, and convinced thee of the need of a better patron, while numbers of them are left to run on, deceiving and being deceived, and darkening counsel by words without knowledge. All fruitfulness, my son, depends upon union with the living Vine; God doth not expect grapes from thorns, nor figs from thistles, any more than we do. All that are in Christ by the Father's choice, and that are preserved in Christ and called, must be purged before they can bring forth fruit; every branch in that covenant Head the Father takes in hand, and thou must be purged, not only from thy old sins, but from the whole of thy former profession, from thy former ministry, and from all thy false confidence in it: and these purging draughts are not palatable, though they are profitable; bitter herbs must be eaten with the passover-offering, and we must drink of the wine that Wisdom hath mingled, as well as of the new wine of the kingdom. The work goes sweetly on; God works, and thou canst not let it. He hath long worked in thee to will, and he is beginning to work in thee to do also; faith is struggling, hope is abounding, and the captive exile is hastening that he may be loosed, that he may not die in the pit, and that his bread may not fail. God bless him. W. H. S. S.

LETTER IX.

To the Rev. Mr. HUNTINGTON.

I CANNOT but return many and sincere thanks to my best of friends for the savoury and sweet morsel he sent me in his last. There I found it, and I eat it, and it was the joy and rejoicing of my heart. Some hints dropped in it led me into a large field; and the matter was so suitable and applicable to my own case, that I am persuaded none but he who knows our thoughts, and wants too, could direct you to send it. O! how sweet is the light! and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun. But I am unworthy of the least of his mercies. O! what a heaven it is to enjoy his presence, though it is but a little! I cannot describe unto you what a comfortable, sweet, and glorious season I had last Sunday night, in delivering a discourse from that portion; “In that day it shall be said to Jerusalem, Fear thou not: and to Zion, Let not thine hands be slack." I could not but be astonished at my light, the power I felt, my readiness to speak, and the home-strokes I could give the conscience of the sinner, and then go away without stopping to belabour him for half an hour together with the terrors of God, which, I believe, only confounds,