me loath myself for it, and gets fresh glory to his sovereign grace; and as all the great and good things, ever done in the world, were done by faith, so all the crosses, ever endured with patience, were from the same cause, which is

Sixthly another humbling lesson. I find, to this moment, so much unbelief and impatience in myself, that if God was to leave me to be tried with any thing that crossed my will, if it was but a feather, it would break my back. Nothing tends to keep me vile in my own eyes, like this fretting and murmuring, and heart-burning, when the will of God, in the least, thwarts my will. I read, the trial of your faith worketh patience, the trial of mine, is the direct contrary. Instead of patient submission, I want to have my own way, to take very little physic, and that very sweet: so the flesh lusteth. But the physician knows better, he knows when, and what to prescribe; may every potion purge out this impatient, proud, unbelieving temper, so that faith may render healthful to the soul, what is painful to the flesh. And as no cross can be endured without the faith of the Son of God, so

Seventhly and lastly there is no comfortable view of leaving the world, but by the same faith. These all, who had obtained a good report in ev

ery age, died in faith. On their death-bed, they did not look for present peace and future glory, but to the Lamb of God. Their great works, their eminent services, their various sufferings, all were cast behind their backs, and they died as they lived, looking at nothing but Jesus. He was their antidote against the fear, and against the power of death. They feared not the cold deathsweat; Jesus's bloody sweat was their dependance. The dart lost its force on Jesus's side. The sting was lost in his corpse. Death sturg itself to death, when it killed him. There is life, life in its highest exaltation and glory, in not breathing the air of this world. This life, through death, Jesus entered on, and we enter on it now by faith; and, when our breath is stopped, we have this life, as he has it, pure spiritual and divine. Because he lives it, we shall live it also. Yes, my dear friend, we, you and I, after we have lived a little longer, to empty us more, to bring us more out of ourselves, that we may be humbled, and Jesus exalted more, we shall fall asleep in Jesus, not die, but sleep; not see, not taste death, so he promises us; but in, his dear arms, sweetly go to rest in our weary bodies, when our souls shall be with the Lord. And then we shall be perfect in that lesson, which we learn so very slowly in this present

world; namely, that from him, and of him, and 'to him, are all things; to whom be all the glory for ever and ever, Amen..

These are the things, which God himself has taught me. Man had no hand at all in it. No person in the world, not I myself: for I fought against them as long as I could: so that my present possession of them, with all the rich blessings. which they contain, is from my heavenly teacher alone. And I have not learned them, as we do mathematics, to keep them in memory, and to make use of them when I please; no, I find in me to this moment, an opposition to every gospeltruth, both to the belief of it in my head, and to the comfort of it in my heart. I am still a poor dependant creature, sitting very low at the feet of my dear teacher, and learning to admire that love of his, which brought me down and keeps me down at his feet. There is my seat, till I learn my lesson perfectly. That will soon be. There is nothing in his presence, but what is like himself. In heaven all is perfection. The saints are as humble, as they are happy. Clothed, with glory and clothed with humility--with one heart and one voice, they cry, WORTHY IS THE LAMB.. They look not at, they praise not, one another; but the Lamb is glorified in his saints, and will have from them never

ending praise and glory, for the glory which his sovereign grace has bestowed upon them. In a measure I now feel, what they do. My heart is in tune, and I can join that blessed hymn-looking at him as the giver of grace (and grace is glory begun, nota bene,) as they look at him the giver of glory. I can take the crown, most gladly, from the head of all my graces, as they do from the head of their glory, and cast it down at his loving feet. WORTHY IS THE LAMB. He is he is blessings on him for ever and ever.

Ought not I to say so, that precious Lamb of God.

"

indebted as I am to

You see how he has dealt with me the kindness, the gentleness of his ways, his royal bounty,-the magnificence of his love. Adore and praise him with me, and for me. And learn, my dear friend, from what I have here related, to trust him more. When he shews you your vile heart, your poor works; when dreadful corruptions stir, and are ready to break out; go to him, freely, boldly; stop not a moment to reason with your own proud spirit, but fall down at his footstool. Tell him just what you feel. He loves to hear our complaints, poured, with confidence, into his bosom. And never, never, on earth, will you get such fellowship with him, so close, so blessed, as when you converse

with him in this poverty of spirit. Let nothing keep you from him; whatever you meet with, let it drive you to him: for all good is from him, and all evil is turned into good by him. O wondrous Saviour! Here was I going on, and I hope in this theme, never to stop-But the Rev. Mr.

is come in-one just ordained. I do not leave Jesus to talk to him, but I am going to him to talk of sweet Jesus. To him I commend you and yours. Believe me very truly yours in that most lovely Lord Christ, most precious Jesus.

W. R.

T

LETTER XXVI.

LAMBETH, Sept. 27, 1767:

MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,

HAVE been waiting for good news, but in vain. I wanted some satisfactory answer to your last, and though I can give you none, yet I take