surprised with discoveries of the design and tendency of such dispensations, which render him grateful for them, and cause him to bless God, who made them a part of his paternal discipline. In retracing his path through life, he sees his most dreaded calamities connected with his choicest mercies, his lowest depression with his highest elevation-and so connected, that, without the former, the latter would not have been. That which threatened the destruction of his ability to do good, he finds to be his highest qualification for usefulness.

Such are the developements which already begin to appear in the history of this afflicted and beloved man. Henceforth, the reader will revert to the dark shades of the past with more of complacency, and cease to look even upon his seasons of heartrending spiritual anguish, as worse than blank portions of existence. He suffered not for himself alone; the Church of the Redeemer was indirectly, yet largely benefited by what he endured; and many of her members were, probably, prevented from making shipwreck of faith, and sinking into irrecoverable despondency, in consequence of having for a guide and counsellor one who had narrowly escaped a similar catastrophe. The amount of suffering, which his own mental agony was thus the occasion of preventing, will not be known till the great day. But, long before he exchanged his armor for the victor's crown, he could appropriate the language of Paul-I now rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh, for his body's sake, which is the church.

"MY DEAREST SISTER,

"Portland, Aug. 8, 1810.

"I have nothing interesting to write, and my spirits are so completely jaded and exhausted, that they will not bear the fatigue of invention. I cannot spiritualize, nor moralize, but must confine myself to dull narration; and, what is still worse, have nothing to narrate. I have, indeed, one piece of good news, though you have, probably, heard of it ere this. Mr. R. is better, and there are great hopes of his recovery. His complaints, I believe, are precisely similar to mine. "We go on here pretty much as usual. busy with Christians, and a large proportion of our church have been, and still are, exercised with the most dreadful and distressing temptations. I now understand the reason of my dreadful trials at Marlborough. Had it not been for them, I should have been still more unfit for my present situation, than I am at present. Often should I be utterly at a loss what to

Satan is extremely

say or think, had not a wise and gracious Master foreseen what I should need, and taken measures accordingly.

"He has been pleased, of late, to bless my endeavors to comfort his tempted and distressed people with wonderful success. I often stand astonished at it myself, and seem to look upon it as a greater honor and favor, than even to be owned in the conversion of sinners. If I can be permitted to do this, I seem willing to stay and suffer every thing which he sees fit to lay upon me, But I tremble at what may be the consequence. Those who find my endeavors blessed to comfort them, of course, grow more and more affectionate; and I fear lest they prove guilty of creature-idolatry, and thus provoke God to wither their gourd. I have warned them of the danger of this in private, and have, at last, openly preached against it; but God does not seem to bless it to their conviction, and, I fear, we shall both smart for it. He is a jealous God, and if his people put a servant in his place, wo be to the poor creature who is thus set up against him. Pray for me, therefore, and pray for my people. When I ask them to pray for me, they only smile, and reply, that I need not their prayers. In short, we are all young here, and have little experience; and if God does not prevent, we shall rush into all manner of extravagance.

"Since I wrote last, I have been to preach at a place near this, where they have been stupid almost to a proverb. But I hear now, that conference meetings are set up; the minister is roused; and many are earnestly inquiring what they shall do.

"Another minister, who lives about - miles from this, has lately rode into town, week after week, to attend our lectures. He told his people, that, though he had to hire a horse, yet he was always amply repaid. He has been very lax, but a great alteration has taken place in his preaching and conduct, and there is considerable attention excited among his people.

"After all this, you will not wonder to hear that I am borne down with heavy burdens; pressed out of strength above measure, so as, at times, to despair even of life. All this is necessary, absolutely necessary, and I desire to consider it as a mercy; but it is hard, very hard to bear. If any one asks to be made a successful minister, he knows not what he asks; and it becomes him to consider, whether he can drink deeply of Christ's bitter cup, and be baptized with his baptism. If we could learn, indeed, to give all the glory to God, and keep only the sin and imperfections to ourselves, we might be spared these trials. And one would think this easy enough One would think, that Jonah could hardly be proud of his success

among the Ninevites; and we have, if possible, less reason to be proud than he. But pride will live and thrive without reason, and in despite of every reason to the contrary."

"MY DEAR SISTER,

"Portland, Sept. 20, 1810.

"I thank you most sincerely for your letter, which I have just received; but I do not thank you at all for the reason which you assign for not writing more frequently. It seems, forsooth, that I am so wonderfully wise and good, that you dare not write me. My dear sister, this is little better than downright mockery-not that I suspect you of a design to mock me-but your commendations, however sincere, are cutting, very cutting, and I beg of you to wound me no more with them. Go and congratulate a wretch on the rack upon the happiness which he enjoys; tell a beggar of his riches, an illiterate peasant of his learning, or a deformed cripple of his strength and beauty; but mock not a vile, stupid sinner, ready to sink under an almost insupportable weight of guilt and iniquity, with commendations of his goodness, or a blind, ignorant creature with compliments upon his wisdom and knowledge. You are ready, perhaps, to look upon my situation as enviable; but, if you knew what I suffer in a single day, you would fall down on your knees, and bless God that you are not a minister. Not that I consider it as a small favor to be placed in this sacred office, and honored with some degree of acceptance and success. I know it is a post which an angel might envy, and I can never, to all eternity, bless God sufficiently for putting me into it, and supporting me under the pressure of its duties. I would not part with the privilege of preaching Christ crucified to perishing sinners, and of administering to the consolation of God's afflicted people, to be made monarch of the world. But O the agonies, the unutterable, inconceivable agonies, which must be endured by those who attempt, with such a heart as mine, to perform this work! I shudder with horror, to think of the scenes through which I have been obliged to pass, and shrink back from those through which I must yet pass before I reach the rest prepared for the people of God. It is, however, some comfort, that the time, when I shall quit this scene of trial, cannot be far distant. Nature cannot long hold out under what I endure; and I trust that, ere many years, I shall be safe in the grave, where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. If, meanwhile, I may be preserved from insanity, and from wounding the cause of Christ, by falling into open wicked

ness, it is all I ask for, and perhaps more than I have any reason to expect. It is a dreadful thought, that no Christian on earth, however holy, humble, and watchful he may at present be, has any security against falling into open sin before he dies. As to resolving that we will not thus fall, it avails nothing. As well might a stone resolve not to fall, when the power which upheld it is removed. You will, perhaps, say, We may hope that God will uphold us for the sake of his cause. So David might have hoped. It seemed very important that he should be preserved and yet, how he fell! And what reason, then, have I to hope that I shall not fall? And, if I should, it would injure the cause of religion infinitely more than all my labors will ever advance it."

The following letter is without date, but cannot be materially out of its place

"My health remains much the same. I have enjoyed more in religion, since my last journey to Rindge, than during my whole ministry before. My distressing exercises have vanished-I sometimes hope, never to return; and my thoughts are so unusually drawn upward, that I cannot avoid concluding that my stay on earth is to be but short. My church are many of them of the same opinion. They tell me they are certain that I shall not continue with them long. Sometimes I am tempted to wish that my expectations may soon be realized. At others, I wish to stay a little longer, and tell sinners what a precious Saviour Jesus is. But the Lord's will be done. Welcome life, welcome death, welcome any thing from his hand. The world-O what a bubble-what a trifle it is! Friends are nothing, fame is nothing, health is nothing, life is nothing; Jesus, Jesus is ALL! O what will it be to spend an eternity in seeing and praising Jesus! to see him as he is, to be satisfied with his likeness! O, I long, I pant, I faint with desire to be singing, Worthy is the Lamb-to be extolling the riches of sovereign grace-to be casting the crown at the feet of Christ! And why may we not do all this on earth? My dearest sister, we may do it, if it is not our own fault. Pause a moment, and try to conceive how they feel, and what they are this moment doing in heaven. Pause and reflect till you hear their songs, and feel your heart glow with their love. Then shout aloud," Worthy is the Lamb; for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed me by thy blood. Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain, to receive glory, and blessing, and honor, and power!" But I must desist.

'Remember me most affectionately to our dear parents; and I hope that they and you are willing that I should go to heaven first."

"MY DEAREST MOTHER,

me.

"Portland, Dec. 10, 1810.

"Since my return, it has pleased my adorable Saviour, in his sovereign mercy, to give me clearer and more transporting views of himself than I have ever before enjoyed; and I have no leisure or thoughts to bestow on any thing else. He has brought me up out of the horrible pit, where I have so long been sinking, and put a new song in my mouth; and O that all creation would join with me in singing his praises! I have sometimes heard of spells and charms to excite love, and have wished for them, when a boy, that I might cause others to love But how much more do I now wish for some charm which should lead men to love the Saviour! What would I not give for the power to make sinners love him-for the faculty of describing his beauties and glories in such a manner as to excite warmer affections towards him in the hearts of Christians! Could I paint a true likeness of him, methinks I should rejoice to hold it up to the view and admiration of all creation, and be hid behind it forever. It would be heaven enough to hear him praised and adored, though no one should know or care about insignificant me. But I cannot paint him; I cannot describe him; I cannot make others love him; nay, I cannot love him a thousandth part so much as I ought myself. I faint, I sink under the weight of infinite, insupportable obligations. O for an angel's tongue-O for the tongues of ten thousand angels, to sound his praises! I would fain do something for him, but I can do nothing. I cannot even attempt to do any thing without his grace; and the more I am enabled to do in his service, so much the more is the load of obligation increased. O that God, who alone is able, would glorify his Son' This, at present, is all my salvation, and all my desire, that Christ may be glorified. For this reason, I long and pray for a revival. I long that the blessed Jesus should receive some more suitable returns for his wondrous love to our ruined race. We are hoping that this will be the case here. I hope the church begin to awake and pray more earnestly than ever, and that we shall yet see hundreds here praising the ever-blessed Redeemer. It seems of no consequence what becomes of me. It seems of no consequence what becomes of sinners, comparatively speaking. But, O, it is of infinite consequence that Christ should be glorified. My