(o consider, that, however we may be separated from our friends in this world, yet, if we choose them aright, we may indulge the hope of spending an eternity together in the next. "I have of late taken some pleasure in recollecting the pilgrimages of our old friend Bunyan, and see a striking propriety in many parts of them, which I did not then rightly understand. For some time past I have been with Tender Conscience in the caves of Good Resolution and Contemplation, and, like him, fell into the clutches of Spiritual Pride. It is astonishing, and what nothing but sad experience could make us believe, that Satan and a corrupt heart should have the art of extracting the most dangerous poison from those things which apparently would, and certainly ought to have the most beneficial effects. If I do not, after all, fall into the hands of old Carnal Security, I shall have reason to be thankful. There is such a fascination in the magic circle of worldly pleasures and pursuits, as can hardly be conceived without experience; and I am astonished and vexed to find its influence continually thwarting and hindering me. And so many plausible excuses are perpetually suggesting themselves, that compliance can hardly be avoided." "My DEAR MOTHER, "January 25. “In one of the classics, which form part of my daily occupation, there is an account of a tyrant who used to torture his subjects by binding them to dead bodies, and leaving them to perish by an unnatural and painful death. I have often thought the situation of a Christian is, in some respects, like that of these poor 5 M. F. wretches. Bound to a loathsome body of sin, from which death alone can free him, and obliged daily to experience effects from it not much less painful and displeasing to him than a putrefying carcass was to those who were united to it, he must suffer almost continual torment. I have lately felt doubtful how far a due resignation to the divine will obliges us to submit with patience to this most painful of all trials, and, since we know that perfection is not granted to any in this world, how far we ought to extend our prayers and wishes. I know there is little danger of being too much engaged in seeking deliverance from sin; but is there no danger of that fretful impatience, which we are apt to feel on other occasions, gaining admittance under the appearance of an earnest desire for holiness? And is not indolence, and a wish to be freed from the necessity of continual watchfulness and conflict, apt to insinuate itself into our desires and petitions for divine assistance? Sin is a sly traitor; and it is but lately I discovered it in my bosom; and now I am so much afraid of it, that I hardly dare ask assistance at all. "For this month past, I have enjoyed very little of that happiness which I once rejoiced in. Yet, blessed be God! I am not left utterly dead and stupid, and am enabled to persevere in the use of means, though they seldom seem so productive of peace as they once did. I hope I have clearer ideas of my strong, amazingly strong, propensity to every thing that is evil, and of the infinite and glorious sufficiency of my Savier, than I had while my joys were greater. Then I was ready to flatter myself that sin was destroyed; but now I find, by sad experience, it is not only alive, but extremely active; and had I not an Almighty Helper, 1 should instantly give up in despair." "MY DEAR MOTHER, "Portland, Feb. 9, 1806. "For many reasons, it is impossible that my letters should be so acceptable at home as those I receive from home are to me. You have friends there to divide your attention, to participate in your care, and to share and increase your pleasures. But I am alone. All my affections must centre at home, and, consequently, I must feel a greater desire to hear from home, and to receive assurances that I am not forgotten, than my friends can possibly have to hear from me. "I find nobody, except at times, to whom I can communicate my joys, hopes, desires, and fears; nobody who can participate my pleasures or sympathize in my griefs. It is perhaps best for me that it should be so; but it is very unpleasant. Most of my acquaintance consider me, as near as I can guess, but a kind of hypocrite, who must, as a student in divinity, preserve a decent exterior in order to be respected. However, it is some consolation that they think the same of every one else. Their opinion is of very trifling consequence. One thing only I wish not to be thought, and that is, what is commonly called a rational Christian, an epithet which is very frequently bestowed on young candidates, and which is almost synonymous with no Christian. Liberal divines are pretty much of the same character." "MY DEAR MOTHER, "Portland, April 1, 1806. I am now entirely alone, and, except a visit once a fortnight from Mr. R. I see no face within my chamber from one week to another. It is sometimes unpleasant, but, I believe, very profitable, to be debarred from society. I am so prone to trust to broken cisterns, that nothing but their being out of my reach can re strain me. When I come home from school, weary and dull, if I had any earthly friends at hand I should certainly apply to them for relief; but, not having any, I am constrained to go where I am much more sure of finding it. I begin to find, that the smiles with which my early infancy was supported, are changing for the less agreeable, but certainly not less needful, discipline of education; and O what severe discipline, and how much of it, shall I require! I see already, that hard fare and hard labor will be necessary to preserve me from 'waxing fat and kicking;' and if it has this effect, I shall welcome it with pleasure. It seems to me one of the worst of the hellish offspring of fallen nature, that it should have such a tendency to pride, and above all, spiritual pride. How many artifices does it contrive to hide itself! If, at any time, I am favored with clearer discoveries of my natural and acquired depravity and hatefulness in the sight of God, and am enabled to mourn over it, in comes Spiritual Pride, with 'Ay, this is something like! this is holy mourning for sin; this is true humility.' If I happen to detect and spurn at these thoughts, immediately he changes his battery, and begins-Another person would have indulged those feelings, and imagined he was really humble, but you know better; you can de tect and banish pride at once, as you ought to do.' Thus this hateful enemy continually harasses me What a proof that the heart is the native soil of pride. when it thus contrives to gather strength from those very exercises which one would think must destroy it utterly! "My other chief besetting sin, which will cut out abundance of work for me, is fondness for applause. When I sit down to write, this demon is immediately in the way, prompting to seek for such observations as will be admired, rather than such as will be felt, and have a tendency to do good. My proneness to these two evils, which I have mentioned, makes me think I shall have but little sensible comfort in this world, and that I shall be tried by many and grievous afflictions, in order to keep me humble and dependent. However, it is of no consequence. I know my great Physician is both able and willing to cure me, and I leave the manner to him; trusting he will enable me to take whatever he prescribes, and bless the prescription." "MY DEAR MOTHER, 66 Portland, June 17, 1806. "After I have told you that I have been unwell some time past, and that I am now as well as usual, my stock of information is exhausted-unless, indeed, I still make myself the subject; and, for want of a better, I must. Owing partly, I believe, to my ill health, I have been much afflicted with doubt, whether it is not my duty to give up preaching at all. I want, at times, to get as far back into the country as possible, and, on a little farm, lead a life as much remote from observation as circumstances will allow. It seems to me a little remarkable, that, while I am harassed with doubts and perplexities about every thing else, I feel none, or com M. P. 5* |