FROM THE REV. THOMAS SAUNDERS.

December 1, 1727.

WHEN I see a letter superscribed by my dearest friend I look upon it with a peculiar delight; but not being able to indulge my eye, I make a forcible entry, ever expecting something to entertain my reason and feast my intellectual capacities, and in this I am never balked; for, if it be a letter written with that design, I might in vain consult my books to find any thing so much to the purpose, be the subject what it will. Whether this be owing to the weakness of my judgment, the strength of my passions, or to the superior qualifications of my friend,—another person may perhaps more easily determine than myself. And again, if your epistle contains nothing but some distinguishing marks of friendship, I hug myself in the thoughts of being so much in the esteem of a person for whom I have most deservedly conceived not only a high value in my judgment, but the most passionate regard in my affections. All the notices of your health, enjoyment, and usefulness in life, are doubly entertaining, as they relate unto the pleasure of my friend; and, as I may hope my devoutest wishes and earnest requests at a Divine throne have in some measure contributed thereunto.

The hints I sent you of my design were unfit to be put into any other hands but your own, for I was in a sort of hurry when I sent them; but, as I never put any thing into your hand but for im

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provement, so you will have the larger scope, having the fairer opportunity of refining upon so rough and unpolished a draught. Were it possible for me to say any thing that I could more wish for in a friend, and you would receive the hint, not as an imputation, I entreat that you would more severely criticize upon whatever comes to your hand from mine; and especially, when we are conferring about things of importance, let no errata escape your censure. have, with the utmost pleasure, perused your directions for communion with God, and most sincerely say, that, in my opinion, they are original in their kind. May I ever so conduct myself, and then I am persuaded I shall give up my account with joy; but, alas, my friend, I am miserably defective here! Pray for me, that while I am preaching the gospel unto others, I may not become a cast-away myself.

I have this morning begun a subject that I may some time ask your opinion of. I am extremely obliged to you for your late assistance; it is my great happiness, under the disadvantage of wanting both time and capacity for reading and thinking, that I have an oracle to consult beyond whatever Greece or Rome could boast of, to whose correction I readily submit all my performances; and do assure him that am, with a respect beyond expression,

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His most sincere Friend and humble Servant,

THOMAS SAUNDERS.

TO MR. SAUNDERS.

December 2, 1727.

I HERE inclose the hints you desire, which I drew up yesterday morning; and, on the review, I see so many defects and improprieties, that were I not so well acquainted with your candour, and did I not attend to your instructions rather than my own advantage, I should not send them.

How was it possible for you to write such a letter as I received last night?--You are always kind and good, and always more partial in favour of my character than any other person I know in the world; and, to tell you the plain truth, I would have you continue to be so; for, if it were not for that happy partiality, you would hardly think me worthy your friendship. You can never displease me with expressions of tenderness, for I love you so well, that I would have as much of your heart as one creature ought to have of another's; and I look upon your fond regard as my glory. But, my dear friend, you must forbear these expressions of unreasonable esteem, for really, Mr. Saunders, I think the clause

Is it possible you should think as you say;-**** Can so wise a man be so much deceived? Seriously speaking, I am confounded, and I have not the confidence so much as to quote the lines I complain of.

I have this morning been humbling myself before God for the pride of my heart. It follows me whi

thersoever I go,-into my study, into the conversation of my friends, and, what is most dreadful of all, into the immediate presence of my Maker; of that God who is the fountain of all perfection, and from whose hands, I have received my all, and from whom I have deserved an aggravated condemnation. Such is the subtlety of this insinuating mischief, that I can recollect instances in which I have been proud of having exposed the deformity of pride with success, while perhaps it was only another instance of my degeneracy to imagine that I had so succeeded! Why then must your complaisance add fuel to a fire, which I sometimes fear will burn up all my grace and my religion? How hard is it to keep Self in self-subjection; this you have taught me as well as man can teach it, but God alone can make the excellent lesson effectual. I cannot lay a scheme for the honour of my God, and the service of the world, but Self intrudes itself, and that sometimes to such a degree as to make me doubt whether the governing principle be not wrong, and whether many of my most valuable actions and designs be not splendida pietata. Alas, such is your "pious and excellent” friend! You compliment me on the learning and accuracy of my views. How are you deceived! have hardly looked into many of the most excellent treatises of the ancient and modern commentators, and have only dipped into some others so far as to see that there was a great deal that I was not capable of comprehending, at least without a long course of preparatory study! There is hardly a chapter in

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the Bible which does not puzzle me; nor, in short, any considerable subject of human inquiry in which I do not perceive both my ignorance and my weakness. And this-is your Oracle !

Were there any thing which could seem a just excuse for my vanity, it would indeed be, that you and some other such excellent persons profess not only to love, but to respect me; but I am persuaded, nay, I certainly know it is only because a great portion of my ignorance and folly lies hid, otherwise you would all but pity or despise me! And when I consider your humility in admitting me to such an intimate friendship, and in thinking so honourably of me, I see the greater reason to be abashed at the reflection that I have learned no more of that amiable grace, with so bright an example before me, and in one whom I love so well, that it might be expected that I should imitate him, with a peculiar pleasure.

Let me beg your pity and your prayers; love me as well as you can! but pray that I may deserve your affection better; yet whatever other imperfections attend my character, I am, with most sincere tenderness and grateful affection,

Your Friend and Servant,

PHILIP DODDRIDGE.