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, 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. this heart, faithful to its trust, can never, never cease to remember thee, friend of my bosom; once Yes, A chasm is left, be described-a But I remember this selfish heart mine, now removed from her who loved thee much, to Him who loved thee better! which he filled-a chasm not to chasm I have trembled to look at. that others suffer also. And shall 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 the general body, that, by diffusing my sympathies and my sorrows to all the members, their intenseness 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 influence 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 inWhen 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. thoughts. Sometimes I find, when I strive to rouse my mind, rendered inert by an exclusive 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 other being in the universe to pity. consistent creatures we are. 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 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 enfeebled 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 experience 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 profitable 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 be 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. 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 expressions 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 redeemed of the Lord are fast gathering into the kingdom 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 Saviour'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 redeeming 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 temptation is first held out to the soul, then is the time to say, "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 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 unfaithfulness 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, however, that the longer I live, the more deeply I am made to feel, by bitter experience, that sin will cleave to me till I die; that every moment which bears me fresh mercies from God, swells, proportionably, the mighty number of my sins, because it adds to the number and weight of those obligations which |