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ations of his word. He is able and willing to save to the uttermost, all, who come unto him with faith in the merits of his Son. The difficulty seems to be entirely in myself. I am so cold and lifeless, so faithless and unbelieving, that it seems to be almost impossible that I should be allied to any thing good. Do not infer from this last remark that I am very humble. I ought to be humbled in the very dust; but I am far less abased before God than I feel that I should be. How far am I from that fervour of spirit in serving the Lord, and that deadness to the world, that watchfulness and zeal, which I ought to have, and which I long to possess! My dear M., it is a great thing to be a Christian at any time, especially in these last days, when iniquity abounds, and the love of many waxes cold; when "the declensions of Christianity" may be produced as "a sad argument of its truth." But it is God that worketh in us to will and to do of his good pleasure; and to him the work is as easy now as at any other period. Were the whole world around us faithful disciples of Christ, there would still be a law in our members, over which God alone could give us the victory, through Jesus Christ our Lord. In such circumstances, however, there would be fewer temptations, and it would be easier to maintain a close walk with God. Nothing short of omnipotence can, indeed, cause light to shine out of darkness. But the greatness of the work should not cause our hearts to sink in despondency. No work is too great for God to perform; and he has promised to help those who trust in him, and to give them all that they ask agreeably to his will. Despondency must then arise from want of faith. This it was in Peter, which impelled him to exclaim, "Lord, save me, I perish!" He did not fully trust in the power of his divine Master, but yielded to fear, excited by the rough appearance of the waves on which he stood;

forgetting that He, whom the winds and the sea obey, was at his side. This it is in us-the want of faith, that leads us to doubt whether we can ever be saved. The Lord increase our faith and give us unwavering confidence in his faithfulness and mercy.

TO THE SAME.

Killingworth, Sept. 21, 1808.

In writing to you, my dear M., I shall, with a confidence which our friendship justifies, throw away all unnecessary reserve, and use the freedom of a friend and sister. In communicating every incident which is interesting to me, and seeking in you, when I am in trouble, that sympathy and consolation which I hope to find in one whose mind is so congenial with my own, I shall enjoy your society, though I am separated from you. And in such correspondence-which it is my wish may be maintained between us while life shall last-we shall find much pleasure, and, I hope, some profit. When I go to Boston, I do not expect to have any regular correspondent but you; as other necessary and unavoidable engagements will, probably, prevent my retaining more than one. I shall therefore wish you to write me frequently, that we may not cease to think of and love each other.

I do not question the correctness of Mr. S.'s explanation of Christian humility, nor of the remarks he connected with it respecting doubts, &c. But do you think that continual doubts in a regenerate person, are as conducive to God's glory as a stronger faith would be? I know that, as long as sin remains, there will probably be seasons of comparative darkness; and therefore, some degree of doubt is consistent with the Christian character. Yet I believe

that, could we always have faith to say with the apostle, "I know in whom I have believed," we should glorify God much more than we do now.

I received a letter last week from Gen. Hunting

He informs me of the melancholy death of his daughter-in-law, at N., of whom you have heard me speak in terms of affection and admiration. She was one of the excellent of the earth; an ornament to her sex, and to the religion of Christ. Her usefulness here is now at an end. God had prepared her for glory, and he has taken her to himself. In the midst of life we are in death. Oh! that we, my dear M., would learn to consider ourselves as pilgrims and strangers on the earth, and to live with a constant reference to eternity; that when the solemn hour of death shall come, we may

look back on every sorrow past,

And meet life's peaceful evening with a smile.

TO MR. D., OF

Killingworth, November 22, 1808. The friendship which you feel for us all, and which we all feel for you, rendered any apology, in regard to your commencing a correspondence with me, needless. I hope ever to consider you as one of my friends; and, as such, your letter could excite no other sensations than those of pleasure.

The silence which you preserved while here, upon the subject of our beloved Eliza's death, I did not impute, either to indifference, or insensibility. You knew her too well, to suffer the remembrance of her virtues to depart from your mind, as she departed from the theatre of life. And you are not possessed of that stoicism of feeling, which would preclude your

The person whose death is here referred to, was her sister, Mrs. Eliza Olcott of Killingworth.

being interested in the afflictions of your friends. I rather imputed it to a reluctance to open afresh those wounds, in the bosoms of the members of this family, which can never be entirely healed, by recalling to our memories the recollection of one of our number whom God has taken from us. She was all that was amiable and lovely; and none can realize our loss, but those who knew her as we did. Could I not feel that there is indeed a God that judgeth in the earth, and that though clouds and darkness are often round about him, yet righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne, and did I not believe that he orders every thing for his own glory and the highest good of his intelligent creation, I should, at times, be ready to sink under his chastising hand. But the persuasion that the Lord reigneth in perfect righteousness, is not my only source of consolation under this trial; for I have reason to hope that my dear sister died in peace, and slept in Jesus, and has entered into that rest which remaineth for the people of God. In this view, death seems disarmed of his sting, and I sometimes feel disposed to bless the Lord, for having released her from sin, and every attending sorrow, and admitted her to the full enjoyment of himself. Dear departed Eliza! Thy journey was short; but thou hast arrived at the haven of felicity, and God has wiped all tears from thine eyes.

The various inquiries you proposed, need more time and wisdom than I possess, fully and properly to answer. Those which more immediately interest yourself, excite, in a peculiar degree, my attention. I suppose you consider yourself, as to be ranked among the sixth class of undecided characters mentioned in your letter, which you have described as "being necessitated to halt between two opinions, from a half persuasion that they are right, while opposed in their plans by the opinions and wishes of.

friends, &c." This is certainly a very unpleasant situation, and I am sincerely sorry it is yours; because, when we are undecided in our own minds respecting any particular pursuit, there is less prospect of usefulness and happiness in life, than there would otherwise be, on account of our being, by this means, prevented from properly exerting our powers, and as it also prevents or clouds that approbation of our own hearts, founded on the firm persuasion that we are good soldiers in a good cause, which is as an anchor to the soul. I wish it were in my power to give you all that advice you desire from your friends, and to direct your mind to the course of duty and of happiness. I would direct you to that divine Book which contains directions for all, given by ONE who cannot misguide; directions which, if followed, will conduct to usefulness and happiness, both here and hereafter. Seek from the fountain of grace, wisdom profitable to direct, and grace to help; and be assured, you will not seek in vain.

You say, it has, a long time, been your desire to preach the gospel, and that though, at times, a sense of your unworthiness leads you almost to relinquish this your darling object, yet you feel that by relinquishing it, you would give up also all your hopes of earthly happiness. If this is the case; if you also feel this pursuit your duty, if you indeed desire to know nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified, and if you ardently long to glorify God and benefit the souls of men, I certainly think you ought to enter the ministry. Your distrust of yourself is no ground for discouragement. On the contrary, if you did not feel your weakness and unworthiness, you would have reason to doubt whether you had ever seen your true character, as delineated in the Scriptures of truth. Grace operates by subduing the pride of man. Renounce all dependence on