"thou art love and goodness itself and thy mercies endure for "ever." Thus, or in what other frame your soul shall be carried to vent itself into his bosom, be assured, your words, yea, your silent sighs and breathings shall not be lost, but shall have a most powerful voice and ascend into his ear, and shall return to you with messages of peace and love in due time, and, in the mean time, with secret supports, that you faint not, nor sink in these deeps that threaten to swallow you up. But I have wearied you, instead of refreshing you. I will add no more, but that the poor prayers of one of the unworthiest caitiffs in the world, such as they be, shall not be wanting on your behalf, and he begs a share in yours; for neither you, nor any in the world, need that charity more than he does. Wait on the Lord, and be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart: wait, I say, on the Lord.

The next is to some christian friend, whose name is unknown.

CHRISTIAN FRIEND,

Though I had very little vacant time for it, yet I would have seen you, if I could have presumed it might have been any way useful for the quieting of your mind. However, since I heard of your condition, I cease not daily, as I can, to present it to him, who alone can effectually speak peace to your heart; and I am confident, in due time, will do so. It is he that stilleth the raging of the sea; and by a word can turn the violentest storm into a great calm. What the particular thoughts or temptations are that disquiet you, I know not; but whatsoever they are, look above them and labour to fix your eye on that infinite goodness, which never faileth them, that, by naked faith, do absolutely rely and rest upon it, and patiently wait upon him, who hath pronounced them all, without exception, blessed that do so. Say often within your own heart; Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him: and if, after some intervals, your troubled thoughts do return, check them still with

the holy Psalmist's words; Why art thou cast down, O my soul, &c. If you can thoroughly sink yourself down, through your own nothingness, into him who is all, and entirely renouncing your own will, embrace that blest and holy will in all things, there I am sure you shall find that rest, which all your own distempers, and all the powers of darkness shall not be able to deprive you of. I incline not to multiply words; and indeed other advice than this I have none to give you. The Lord of peace, by the sprinkling of the blood of his Son Jesus and the sweet breathings of the great Comforter, his own Holy Spirit, give you peace in himself. Amen.

We learn from Burnet, that "his thoughts were lively, oft out of the way and surprising, yet just and genuine;" and several of his sayings might be adduced to justify this praise, and to show him well read in the science of human nature and its management. It was an aphorism of his, that "One half of the world lives upon the madness of the other." He well knew, writes his nephew, when it was expedient to be silent, and when it behoved him to speak:-a knowledge not less rare than valuable. One of his favourite axioms was, that "All things operate according to the disposition of the subject;" and he was of opinion, that the silence of a good man will sometimes convey a more effectual lesson than his discourse. Two things he observed, are commonly requisite to make religious advice salutary, namely, time and judgment; and he thought the following maxim might often be remembered with advantage,— philosophandum, sed paucis. Accordingly he was

quite against jading hearers with discourses beyond the measure of their understanding, or their patience: "for it is better," said he, "to send them home still hungry than surfeited." He was no ad. vocate in general for crude and abrupt exposures of unpalatable truths. Being told of an author, who had entitled his performance, "Naked truth whipt and stript," his remark was; "It might have been better to clothe it:" and he saw nothing praiseworthy in the roughness, misnamed honesty, of some people," who would rather overturn the boat than trim it." I shall only add, in illustration of this point of his character, a prayer which he used to offer up, which is pregnant with melancholy meaning: "Deliver me, O Lord, from the errors of wise men; yea, and of good men."

Of his humility, that grace so lovely in the eyes of heaven, and which was truly his crowning grace, it would be difficult to take the dimensions. Burnet mentions, that "he seemed to have the lowest thoughts of himself possible, and to desire that all other persons should think as meanly of him, as he did of himself; and he bore all sorts of ill usage and reproach, like a man that took pleasure in it."

This character of his mind is finely illustrated in the following passage from one of his letters.

And now I have begun, I would end just here; for I have nothing to say, nothing of affairs (to be sure) private nor public; and to strike up to discourses of devotion, alas! what is there to be said, but what you sufficiently know, and daily read, and daily think, and, I am confident, daily endeavour to

do?

And I am beaten back, if I had a great mind to speak of such things, by the sense of so great deficiency, in doing those things that the most ignorant among christians cannot choose but know. Instead of all fine notions, I fly to Kúgia ἐλέησον, Χριστὲ ἐλέησον. I think them the great heroes and excellent persons of the world, that attain to high degrees of pure contemplation and divine love; but next to those, them that in aspiring to that and falling short of it, fall down into deep humility, and self-contempt, and a real desire to be despised and trampled on by all the world. And I believe that they that sink lowest into that depth, stand nearest to advancement to those other heights: for the great King, who is the fountain of that honour, hath given us this character of himself, that He resists the proud, and gives grace to the humble. Farewell, my dear Friend, and be so charitable as sometimes in your addresses upwards, to remember a poor caitiff, who no day forgets you. R. L.

13th December, 1676.

On the eve of taking a bishopric, when he perceived how many obstacles there were to his doing the good he wished to others; "Yet one benefit at least, said he, will arise from it; I shall break that little idol of estimation my friends have for me, and which I have been so long sick of." Though he could not be ignorant of the value set on his pulpit discourses by the public,—for never was a wandering eye seen when he preached, but the whole congregation would often melt into tears before him, yet the most urgent entreaties of his friends. could never obtain from him the publication of a single sermon. Indeed, he looked upon himself as so ordinary a preacher, and so unlikely to do good

that he was always for giving up his place to other ministers; and after he became a bishop, he always preferred preaching to small congregations, and would never give notice beforehand when he was to fill the pulpit. Of a piece with his rooted dislike to any thing, that seemed to imply consequence in himself, was his strong objection to have his portrait taken. When it was requested of him, he testified unusual displeasure, and said: "If you will have my likeness, draw it with charcoal:" meaning, no doubt, that he was carbone notandus, as justly obnoxious to scorn and condemnation. His picture was, however, clandestinely taken, when he was about the middle age; and as the engravings prefixed to his works are copied from it, it is a pleasure to know from such good authority as his nephew's letter, that it greatly resembled him.

Nature had endowed him with a warm and affectionate disposition, which was not extinguished by his superlative love to God, though it was always kept in due subordination. In his commentary on the epistle of Peter he remarks, that "our only safest way is to gird up our affections wholly;" and he lived up to this principle. Accordingly, after avowing once, how partial he was to the amiable character and fine accomplishments of a relation, he added; "nevertheless I can readily wean myself from him, if I cannot persuade him to become wise and good: Sine bonitate nulla majestas, nullus sapor." To him, as to that Holy One of whose spirit he partook largely, whoever did the will of his heavenly Father were