having turned many to righteousness, shall shine hereafter as the stars for ever and ever. So much for the state of my heart. As to my spirits, I am cheerful and happy; and having peace with God, have peace within myself. For the continuance of this blessing, I trust to Him who gives it; and they who trust in Him shall never be confounded. Yours affectionately, William Cowper. LETTER XIII. To Mrs. Cowper. April 4, 1766. My dear cousin, 'I agree with you that letters are not essential to friendship; but they seem to be a natural fruit of it, when they are the only intercourse that can be had. And a friendship producing no sensible effects is so like indifference, that the appearance may easily deceive even an acute discerner. I retract, however, all that I said upon this subject in my last letter, having reason to suspect that it proceeded from a principle which I would discourage in myself upon all occasions, even a pride that felt itself hurt upon a mere suspicion of neglect. I have so much cause for humility, and so much need of it too, and every little sneaking resentment is such an enemy to it, that I hope I shall never again give quarter to any thing that appears in the shape of sullenness or self-consequence. Alas! if my best Friend, who laid down his life for me, were to remember all the instances, in which I have neglected him, and to plead them against me in judgment, where should I hide my guilty head in the day of recompense? I will pray, therefore, for blessings upon those who cease to be my friends; and upon those, who continue to be my enemies. I know well that I passed upon my friends for a person at least religiously inclined, if not actually religious, and, what is more wonderful, I thought myself a Christian, when I had no faith in Christ; when I saw no beauty in him; in short, when I had neither love, nor any Christian grace whatever, but a thousand seeds of rebellion springing up in enmity against him. But, blessed be God, even the God who is become my salvation! the hail of affliction and rebuke for sin, has swept away the refuge of lies. It pleased the Almighty, in great mercy, to set all my misdeeds before me. At length, the storm being past, a quiet and peaceful serenity of soul succeeded; such as ever attends the gift of lively faith in the all-sufficient atonement, and the sweet sense of mercy and pardon purchased by the blood of Christ. Thus did he break me, and bind me up; thus did he wound me, and his hands made me whole. My dear cousin, I make no apology for entertaining you with the history of my conversion, because I know you to be a Christian in the sterling import of the appellation. This is, however, but a very summary account of the matter; neither would a letter contain the astonishing particulars. If we ever meet again in this world, I will relate them to you by word of mouth. In the next world, I doubt not I shall remember and record them with a gratitude better suited to the subject. Yours, my dear cousin, affectionately, William Cowper. Dear Joe, LETTER XIV. To Joseph Hill, esq. July 16,-1767. Your wishes that the news-paper may have misinformed you, are vain. Mr. Unwin is dead, and he died in the manner there mentioned. At nine o'clock, on Sunday morning, he was in perfect health, and as likely to live twenty years as either of us; and before ten he was stretched, speechless and senseless, upon a flock bed, in a poor cottage, where (it being impossible to remove him) he died on Thursday evening*. I heard his dying groans, the effect of great agony; for he was a strong man, and he was much convulsed in his last moments. The few short intervals of sense, that were indulged him, he spent in earnest prayer, and in expressions of a firm trust and confidence in the only Saviour. To that strong hold we must all resort at last, if we would have hope in our death. When every other refuge fails, we are glad to fly to the only shelter, to which we can repair to any purpose; and happy is it for us, when the false ground that we have chosen for ourselves, being broken under us, we have recourse to the Rock, which can never be shaken! Our society will not break up: but we shall settle in some other place; where, is at present uncertain. Yours, William Cowper. * He was thrown from his horse, as he was going to church on Sunday morning, and received a dreadful fracture on the back part of his scull. My dear cousin, LETTER XV. To Mrs. Cowper. I have not been behind hand in reproaching myself with neglect; but I desire to take shame to myself for my unprofitableness in this, as well as in every other respect. I take the next immediate opportunity however of thanking you for your letter, and of assuring you, that instead of being surprised at your silence, I rather wonder that you, or any of my friends, have any room left in your memories, for so careless and negligent a correspondent. I am obliged to you for the intelligence you send me of my kindred; and I rejoice to hear of their welfare. HE who settles the bounds of our habitations, has at length cast our lot at a great distance from each other; but I do not therefore forget their former kindness to me, or cease to be interested in their well being. You live in the centre of a world, in which I know you do not delight. Happy are you, my dear friend, in being able to discern the insufficiency of all it can afford, to fill and satisfy the desires of an immortal soul! That God, who created us for the enjoyment of himself, has determined in mercy that it shall fail us here, in order that the blessed result of all our inqui ries after happiness in the creature, may be a warm pursuit of, and a close attachment to, our true interests, in fellowship and communion with Him, through the name and mediation of a dear Redeemer. I bless his ́goodness, and grace, that I have any reason to hope I am a partaker, with you, in the desire after better things, than are to be found in a world polluted with sin, and therefore devoted to destruction. May Hɛ enable us both to consider our present life in its only true light, as an opportunity put into our hands to glorify him amongst men, by a conduct suited to his Word and Will! I am miserably defective in this holy and blessed art: but I hope there is at the bottom of all my sinful infirmities, a sincere desire to live just so long as I may be enabled, in some poor measure, to answer the end of my existence in this respect; and then to obey the summons, and attend him in a world, where they who are his servants here, shall pay him an unsinful obedience for ever. Your dear mother is too good to me, and puts a more charitable construction upon my silence than the fact will warrant. I am not better employed than I should be in corresponding with her. I have that within, which hinders me wretchedly, in every thing that I ought to do, but is prone to trifle, and let time, and every good thing, run to waste. I hope, however, to write to her soon. My love, and best wishes, attend Mr. Cowper, and all who inquire after me. May God be with you, to bless you, and do you good, by all his dispensations! Do not forget me when you are speaking to our best Friend, before his Mercy-seat. My dear cousin, Yours ever, William Cowper. LETTER XVI. To Mrs. Cowper. Olney, Aug. 31, 1769. A letter from your brother Frederic brought me yesterday the most afflicting intelligence, that has reached me these many years. I pray to God to comfort you; and to enable you to sustain this |