Chapter I: RECEIVED your letter with much thankfulness, for I began to be very

uneasy at not hearing from you in so long a time. And you have for these two days lain with such a weight on my spirit, that I know not how to account for it. I well know the manner in which the praise you bestowed was meant. But you know not how I dread self-complacency. And therefore though I often find that praise humbles me, yet it gives me a pain I know not how to express. I have indeed often heard you speak those words you mention, but they never affected me till now. And did you speak them “in the bitterness of your soul?”――Call me no more your friend! I am not worthy the name. How often have I heard them with unconcern, looking on them only as words of course, a kind of common-place humility. Will you forgive me? I promise you for the future I will pay more attention to every thing you say. I will not, by the grace of God, be so indolent and so faithless in the things which concern you as I have been. I know I am apt to think too highly of those I love, and I hate to be disturbed in the thought. You cannot imagine how ingenious I am in casting these burdens from me: a latent fear of displeasing, and a false humility, furnish me with arguments. “Why would I pretend to speak so and so, to people so much more advanced in grace than myself?” Not considering that God can work by the weakest and most unworthy. But cannot I pray for you? Oh my friend, if ever I _have_ been wanting in ardent prayers for you, I hope never to be so again. That communion of spirit which I have with you in the life of Christ, shall I trust add wings to my prayers on your behalf, and gain new degrees of strength to my own soul.

*Your last letter is a comfortable earnest to me, that I shall at least have one companion in the way which God has sent me to walk in, _the way of the cross, the inward crucifixion_, as you so justly call it; (thanks be to God for this refreshment to my spirit!) Many speak of this, and because St. _Paul_ mentions the being crucified with Christ, they preach about and about it; but I see plainly that you not only _speak_ but _feel_.――And _do_ you know _so much_ of the _bitterness_ of the creature? The Lord be praised! May you daily know it more and more! I am sure this experience will only make the hidden manna the sweeter. And I am equally sure, that those bitter draughts are absolutely necessary to every soul that would _wholly_ give itself up to God. ’Tis easy to talk of the will being perfectly resigned, swallowed up in the will of God, &c. And while this only floats as a notion in the brain, no great sufferings will attend it. But when the soul really feels what this implies, that it is a being cut off from the creature, then it knows indeed what it is to suffer; then it fights as it were in the midst of the fire. Every thought must be brought into obedience to Christ; and God effects this in the soul as it is able to bear it: first one trial comes, then another. One strikes at love of the creature, another at self-love, a third at spiritual pride. And the fight continues till Christ has brought down all his enemies, and led captivity captive. And to attain this state of glorious liberty, who would not rejoice to suffer? What a coward must he be, who would fly from a field of battle, where to die is to conquer? Oh what blessed encouragements has a Christian to fight manfully! Let us not be weary or faint in our minds. We have not yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin; but let us not fail to do it. Have we not a captain who treads all the powers of death and hell under his feet? Is he not Jehovah, mighty to save? And has he not promised that he will save even to the _uttermost_? The way we have to travel is indeed long, and there are lions in it. But what of that! Jesus the deliverer is with us, and nothing shall hurt us.

Through Jesus we can all things do,

all things suffer, all things conquer, and what would we more? Farewel! May the peace of God be with you, and make your soul to rest on him.

_Your ever obliged and affectionate
Friend and Servant_,

****

* * * * *

To Miss ****.

_Wednesday Night, February 13, 1754._

A COLD has been the means of preventing me from spending the evening in the trifling manner which you, my dear friend, have been forced to do; though I cannot but hope that your mind, in the midst of all this noise and nonsense, has been enabled to keep itself in a state of recollection; and that you are still more fully convinced that _all_, the _world_ calls pleasure and gaiety, is mere vanity and vexation of spirit.――I thank you for your letter; it has given me great satisfaction, and fresh cause to praise God on your account: I rejoice in your joy, and may our gracious and kind Redeemer increase and establish your joy and peace in believing! You have indeed the utmost reason to be thankful, that such a work of mercy has been begun in your soul; and fear not but that blessed spirit who has convinced you of sin, and led you to look to the only means of deliverance, will perfect the work he has begun! What a happy sign, that you can already lay hold _on_, and _apply_ the promises to yourself? O continue instant in prayer, for still greater degrees of faith; and shun as you would the most deadly poison, every _action_, _word_, and _thought_, which is contrary to the Spirit of God! And always reflect with the most thankful heart on the love of Christ to your soul. Think that our merciful Saviour is more ready to hear than we to pray. Think with what joy the father received the returning prodigal, and be assured that _you_ and I, and every returning _sinner_, will be received with the same joy, cloathed with the same glorious robes, and admitted to sit down at the same _feast_, even the marriage-supper of the Lamb!

_I am, with the utmost tenderness,
Your ever-affectionate and faithful Friend_,

****

* * * * *

_Wednesday Night, March 20, 1754._

*_My dear Friend_,