It was now Frebruary, 1760, and we were lying on the coast of France. One day, when he was very uneasy, I gave him the 77th Psalm, which he read, and burst out in tears. I told him, if God dealt so with his favourite ones, could he think it strange, when Heaven had been waiting for him for years and days, that God's hand should lie heavy on him for some time, if there might be mercy in the end. A gentleman asking him if his head ached, "Oh!" says he, after he was gone, "it is not my head, but my heart." Those that slept near him took notice of him: for in the night-time he could not forbear crying out in the anguish of his soul. He longed greatly to be free from a man-ofwar. I advised him to write his case, and his resolutions against sin, and that he should make a solemn engagement to God.

Feb. 20. He slept little or none all night. On the 21st he said, "Had I ten thousand kingdoms, I would give them all for a quiet mind." A little after he cried, "O how contentedly could I live a beggar all my life-time, with this proviso, that I lived in ease! Oh!" added he, "how miserable a wretch am I, who rest neither night nor day!" I asked him if it was any particular thought, or the fear and apprehension of wrath, which made him so uneasy? He said, sometimes he was driven almost to the brink of despair; at other times there was an insupportable weight on his soul that he could not account for, nor, by all the arguments he could use, get rid of; that he was sometimes afraid of being driven to do violence to himself; at other times base suggestions were thrown into his mind, which made him very uneasy; and what added to all, was the dread of continuing long in that condition. I advised him to amuse himself with reading the Scriptures; that God might be found in his word read, as he

had not the opportunity of hearing the word preached; and to be frequently in prayer. He said he was in that exercise often; but when he was in such anguish of soul, he had no composure of mind to pray; "for," says he, "I surely am delirious at times. I told him I was afraid Satan had his hand in it, for he endeavours to drive men to opposite extremes ; to presume on the mercy of God, while they are following the ways of sin; or to despair of it, when leaving the paths of vice. My comrades," says he, "observe me now, which makes me a little uneasy; for they could see him at times tossing and tumbling in his bed; and concern dwelt on his countenance. I gave him the 42d and 43d Psalms to read, and we continued in discourse a good while, which diverted his melancholy thoughts.

At night, as he had long wanted sleep, he got some drops of laudanum. Next day he told me he had never shut his eyes till four in the morning, and then but for a little. He said his legs trembled under him, and that sometimes he himself trembled. He was pretty quiet through part of this day, and at night was invited to some company; but eating little, and sleeping less, a small quantity of liquor 'made him merry, and his comrades congratulated him on his recovery, as they called it. But next morning his anguish was so great, that tossing things from him, they said among themselves he was gone mad. He rose, and seemed very disquieted; "Oh!" says he, "I have had hardships, but all that ever I had were less than nothing to what I have now; for," says he, "a wounded spirit, who can bear?" I advised him to write his case, and resolutions as to reformation, which might be an useful memorandum to him in time to come. He read the 102d Psalm.

On Sunday, the 24th, an old acquaintance came

a-board to see him, and he made a great deal too free with the Lord's day; he diverted him pretty much, but their discourse had nothing sacred or serious in it. Next day, he felt himself very uneasy, and said he deserved it for yesterday's works. He complained of his sight being weak, his memory worse than usual, and his judgment greatly gone; from which circumstances I concluded he had some bodily disorder, and even, after all, I was afraid that his sorrow was not thoroughly godly, but durst not judge the small beginnings of grace; nor durst I lay open to him his desperate condition, lest he had been driven to despair at once.

March 1, 1760. Going to his bed, I found him in tears, and asked him how he was; he said the arrows of the Almighty were piercing his spirit. Afterwards he said, "I am a reprobate!" I told him that it was no sign of being a reprobate to be afraid of being one; but, besides, that it did not concern us to trouble ourselves with unrevealed things. A little after, says he, "But I think this is a sign of it, that I can find no rest; this is surely divine wrath." I said, chastisement was a sign of sonship, for it was sons, and not bastards, that endured it. "Oh!" says he, "in a little time I shall go down to the silent chambers of the grave!"

2. Sabbath, in the morning, I found him very uneasy, and he told me that he had never shut his eyes all last night, so that he did not expect to live long. I asked him what kept him awake? He said, when he was about to fall into slumbers, some fearful thoughts made him start. I reminded him of last Sunday's work; he said it had made him very uneasy. I read to him some portions of Scripture, and he lamented that our situation would not let us join in prayer, but begged me never to forget him when alone.

"

3. In the morning he told me he had slept none all last night also, and said he was going the way of all living, and wanted to hear some words of comfort. We spoke a good deal, but he said he was afraid he was an atheist. I asked him, Did he not believe there was a God? "Sometimes,' says he, "I do, and sometimes not; and these are the thoughts that torment me, for I think God will never have mercy on me, when such thoughts come into my head, and thence arises my pain; sometimes, too, I am made to doubt if there be a future state." I asked him if these doubts gave him pain, or if he admitted them as favourite opinions? "No," says he " it racks me that ever they come into my mind; and then how can I believe, or expect mercy from God, when at any time I doubt of his being?" I told him they were suggestions of Satan, and I produced some arguments to confirm him in the belief of a God and a future state."But," says he, "God will punish me for these thoughts." I told him, if he strove against them, and mourned over them, they were his affliction but not his sin. He would often cry for mercy: "O!" says he, "I would give a world of worlds to be in your case!"

6. He said he desired to hear some comfort for his future state. I then stated to him the vastness of divine mercy, through the merits of Christ, the fulness of the promise, and the freeness of the Gospel-call. He asked what comfort or hope he might have, and begged me not to flatter him; and when I enlarged a little on the promises, and the faithfulness of the Promiser, he put up many a petition: "O" says he," in the midst of deserved wrath remember mercy! O be reconciled to me!"

On the following day, he sent for me, and desired me to speak with him; and that we might not

lay a false foundation in so weighty a matter, I laid before him the heinousness of his past life; how he had sinned against a good education; against the eries and checks of his own conscience, and against his knowledge; had blasphemed the sacred name of God, and profaned his holy day; wallowed in uncleanness, and committed all sin with greediness, and that not only for months, but for years, even while Heaven prevented him with mercies, and exercised patience towards him. At which, observing him to shake in his bed, I asked him what made him to tremble? He said it was horror. "But then," said I, "cast your eye to the other side, and see that the blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin; that though your sins were like great mountains, the sea of meritorious blood could cover them; though your iniquities were like thick clouds, God could blot them out." He put up many petitions.

8.---When I saw him, Now," says he, "what thoughts think you come into my mind? That I am not chargeable with my sins, since I have not free-will; for how can I help committing what I have not a free-will to forbear?" I told him that no man, either in a gracious or a natural state, was necessitated to do the duties, or commit the vices proper to either state, as a stone tumbles down hill by its own weight; for the will of the sinner, through natural depravity, went always spontaneously after what was bad, and the will of saints, who are made willing in a day of power, being renewed, sweetly inclines towards what is good; therefore is that expression, "I will draw them with cords of love, and bands of a man." No man now has bis will alike free in the choice of good or evil, for that would suppose him to be in the same state with Adam before the fall, but his will is always prone to that which is evil, till renewed by grace.