conceive of him so as to make the thought of him uneasy to you. Think of him according to the account the evangelists give of him when he was upon earth; how gracious, compassionate, and kind he was. If he were upon earth now, would you not wish that I should lead you to him, that he might lay his hands upon you and bless you, as he did the children which were brought to him? If he were here, and I could go with you and say, "Lord, bless my child likewise!" I am sure he would not frown at you, 'and say, "Take her away, I will have nothing to do with her!" No, my dear child, he has promised, them that come to him he will in no wise cast out. Go to him yourself; though you cannot see him, it is sufficient that he sees and hears you. Tell him, that you hear and believe he is a Saviour to many, and beg him to be your Saviour too. Tell him it was not your own choice, but his providence that removed you from C, and put you under my care, which gave you an opportunity of knowing more of his goodness, than you would otherwise have done; and beg of him to give you his grace, that the advantages you have had may not aggravate your sins, but lead you to his salvation; and do not let a day pass without thinking on his sufferings in Gethsemane and on Mount Golgotha. Surely his love to poor sinners, in bleeding and dying for them, will constrain, you to love him again; and if once you love him, then every thing will be easy, and you will account it your great. est pleasure to please him. ; I thank you for your letter. I conceive a hope fron it, that you will improve in your writing. I wish you not only to write a good hand, but a good letter and the whole art is to write with freedom and ease. When you take your pen in hand, pop things down just as they come to your mind; just as you would speak of them without study. Tell me something about the fowls in the yard, or the trees in the garden, or what you please; only write freely. The Lord bless you, I love you dearly, and wish you to believe me to be Your affectionate. MY DEAR CHILD, MRS. LETTER IX. died on the Fast-day, and was buried yesterday. I had often visited her during her illness, and was at her funeral. She was well a few months ago, but a consumption soon brought her down to the grave. But, though she was young, she was not sorry to leave such a poor world as this. I always found her happy and cheerful, though her illness was very painful. She suffered much by cold sweats; but she said, a few days before her death, that it would be worth lying a thousand years in a cold sweat, for one hour's such happiness as she then felt. "O!" she said, "if this be dying, what a plea"sant thing dying is." I think my dear child has told me, that you are often terrified at the thoughts of death now if you seek the Lord, as Mrs. did, while you are young, then whenever you come to die, you will find that death has nothing terrible in it to them that love the Lord Jesus Christ. He has disarmed death, and taken away its sting; and he has promised to meet his people and receive them to himself, when they are about to leave this world, and every thing they loved in it, behind them. You have the same advantages that Mrs.. had; like her you are placed under the care of those who wish well to your soul; the Scriptures, which made her wise to salvation, are put into your hand likewise, and you also have the opportunity of hearing the Gospel. She was exhorted and encouraged from a child to pray to the Lord for his grace; and so are you. I hope you will do as she did; and the Lord, who was gracious to her, will be gracious to you: for he has pro'mised that none who seek him, shall seek him in vain. Your conscience tells you that you are a sinner, and that makes you afraid; but when the Lord gives you faith, you will see and understand, that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses from all sin, then you will love him; and when you love him, you will find it easy and pleasant to serve him; and then you will long to see him who died for you: and as it is impossible to see him in this world, you will be glad that you are not to stay here always; you will be willing to die that you may be with him where he is. In the mean time, I hope you will pray to him, and wait for his time to reveal himself to you; endeavouring to avoid whatever you know to be wrong and displeasing to him ; and sometimes, I hope, you will feel your heart soft and tender, and serious thoughts and desires rising in your mind; when you do, then think, "Now is the Lord calling me !" and say as Samuel did, "Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth. He es not call with an audible voice, but he speaks to the heart in a way not to be described by words. When we are grieved and ashamed for our sins: when we are affected with what we read and hear of him, of his love, his sufferings, and his death; when we see and feel that nothing but his favour can make us happy; then we may be sure the Lord is near. I believe you have too much sense and honesty to make a profession of religion, further than your heart is really engaged, in order to please your fellow-creatures. But, on the other hand, I would not have you backward to open your mind to me on re. ligious subjects. I know you are not without convictions, and though all convictions are not right, yet true religion always begins with convictions. We must know we are sick, before we can prize a physician. If I live to see you a partaker of the grace of God, one of the chief desires of my heart will be gratified; this would please me more than to have your weight in gold, and therefore you may be sure I often pray for you. 1 am your affectionate. LETTER X. August 1, 1782. MY DEAR CHILD, Do not think we forgot you; our love would reach you were you a hundred times further from us than Highgate is; but we are very much taken up. Monday your mamma was ill in bed all day; she is pretty well now, but P is very bad indeed worse I believe than ever you saw her, and we can hardly attend to any thing but her. Then again poor Mr. B was hurt by a mad ox, about ten days since; his life has been in great danger, but we now hope he will recover. I visit him every day, and that takes up a good deal of my -time. I would be thankful that the Lord preserves you in health and safety. I hope you are thankful too. When you see any body sick, or hurt, or lame, I would have have you think it is of the Lord's goodness their case is not yours. Sin has filled the world with sorrow; all the calamities you read or hear of, or see with your eyes, are the fruits of sin; and as you are a sinner, you might suffer what others do, and it is only the Lord's mercy that preserves you, and provides you good things which many others have not. You know many children are brought up in poverty, meet with ill treatment, have no parents or kind friends to take care of them. But though the Lord removed your parents before you were old enough to miss them, he took care to provide you a place with us; he inclined us not only to receive you, but to love you; and now your wants are all supplied; and, besides this, you have been, and are instructed and prayed for every day. You have great reason to be thankful indeed, and I hope you will pray to the Lord to give you a thankful heart; for you cannot have it except he gives it you. That hymn in Dr. Watts' little book When'er I take my walks abroad, &c. though it is written principally for children, will deserve your notice when you grow up and become a woman; I hope you will say from your heart Not more than others I deserve, Yet God has given me more. Oh, it is a great blessing to be sensible we deserve nothing from God but misery, and that all the good we receive is mercy, and then to know that all this mercy we owe to the Lord Jesus, who died for us that we might live and be happy. There's ne'er a gift his hand bestows, |