you have felt unwell, and particularly that you have increased distress in your head. It is truly afflicting to me to be so far distant from you, at a time when you may more than ever need my attentions, and I can reconcile myself to it only on the ground that Providence has so ordered it. I trust that God, who is an infinitely better friend than any human being can be, is constantly with you; that in Jesus Christ he often reveals himself to your mind as a reconciled God and Father, and verifies to you the rich promises of the covenant of grace. That you have dark hours, and severe trials, I have no doubt, but you can, I trust, obtain such a near and believing view of that Saviour who says, come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest,' and such a sense of the efficacy of his blood to cleanse from all, even the greatest of sins, that you can enjoy some inward peace and hope. We should all of us, alas! be in a most miserable condition, if we were to look to God without such a Mediator and Intercessor as Christ is. But since he has shed his precious blood for us; since the Father has declared himself so well pleased with the sacrifice; why may we not hope in him? why may we not come, and although our iniquities have arisen like mountains, have faith in him as able and willing, to forgive them all? When you look back upon all the way in which God has led you, to the time when you was first awakened from a state of carnal security, when you was led, as you hope, to embrace Jesus Christ as your only Saviour and everlasting portion; when you recall the peaceful and joyful hours you subsequently enjoyed, and remember that for many years you felt a prevailing and lively interest in his cause; can you think that it was all delusion? or that if God had intended to destroy you at last, he would have dealt thus with you? You may feel that you have often departed from him, grieved his Spirit, and brought darkness upon

your soul, but have you not felt unwilling to live in such a state, have you not sometimes obtained freedom at the throne of grace, and wept bitterly over these backslidings, and has it not been your desire and frequent prayer to God, that you might be kept by his mighty power through faith unto salvation? Do you not now feel that all you want is to be kept near to this almighty and glorious Friend, that you may never again lose the sense of his presence, or doubt his goodness? I repeat it, my dear father, is there not some evidence in all this, that you hate sin, that you desire to be conformed to God, and to have your soul renewed after his image? And if you do feel thus, why should you not look up to God with hope and confidence, why should you dread to meet him in another world? 'You know in whom you have believed,' and if Jesus is your friend, how blessed, oh, how blessed to be introduced by such a Mediator into the presence of God! If in your heart you believe in Jesus Christ, and trust in him as your only Saviour, will he refuse to plead your cause, or will he deny your request? father, hope in this almighty Redeemer; build your everlasting all upon this Rock, and verily you shall never be moved. Thousands have rested here, and gone with holy triumph through the dark valley, and trusting to this allsufficient Guide, have been conducted to immortal life and glory.

Hope, my dear

"For all your kindness to me in infancy, in childhood, and in riper years, I give you once more the warmest gratitude of my heart. Your watchful care of me in sickness, and in health; the numberless instructions of a religious kind which you gave me, and the benefit of which I hope to feel to my dying day; your forbearance with me when a wild and giddy youth; your paternal kindness in providing for my wants; and by giving me an education, qualifying me to be useful in the world; all be

With

speak that you have been a father indeed to me. out them, I might have been a curse to myself, a pest to society, and the source of unceasing sorrow to you. Never, therefore, can I forget what you have done for me, and till my heart shall have lost its power of being sensible to any thing, it will not cease to feel towards you the gratitude and respect of a son. And that I may be the more explicit, I desire now most sincerely to crave your forgiveness of my many improprieties of conduct, of my childish vanities and follies, of my undutifulness in more advanced life; particularly, do I beg you to forgive me in every instance in which I may have wounded your feelings, or given you pain, and while you live, let me entreat a remembrance in your prayers, that I may be forgiven of God, and that during my stay on earth, I may be made instrumental in promoting his glory, and doing good to men."

The following letters were addressed to a sister in deep affliction.

My dear Sister,

"Boston, Nov. 4, 1826.

'My heart bleeds for you, and most gladly would I hasten my expected journey to New York, which I hope to take in ten or twelve days, that I might see you and your dear husband, if he be yet spared to you; and by prayer and sympathy try to assuage the anguish of your feelings. It is a world of trials, many trials. Our happy family were many years exempted almost from the common lot; but we must not forget, and God is teaching us in various ways, that we form part of a race born to die. Our afflictions are multiplying, as we advance towards eternity, and I hope our heavenly Father thereby intends to chasten us, and make us meet for a world in which trials are unknown.

"The first intimation I had of your husband's illness, was in a letter which we received since from Mr. H. At the time your letter reached Salem, I had removed to Andover with my family, and did not receive it until I went to S. on business, this week. I still strongly hope, that Mr. P. will be raised up; not because I have much reason to hope from the symptoms you describe, but because I have often seen the mercy and goodness of the Lord displayed in restoring those who appeared to be beyond human aid. But, my dear sister, betake yourself to God, and his precious promises. Read that part of Mrs. Huntington's life, where she first gave up her husband when he was called to die, and pray God that you may have like faith and resignation. The comforts of religion can never be understood until they are felt, and they can never be felt until the day of trial, when every refuge but God is taken away.

"I feel deeply anxious for the result of this sickness. I awaked from sleep the night after receiving your letter, and implored help from on high for you. Let your mind be stayed upon God, and he has promised to keep you in perfect peace. If Mr. P. is yet spared to you, which God of his infinite mercy grant may be the case, remember me to him with all the tenderness of a sympathizing and afflicted brother. The Lord in mercy appear for him, and whether he lives or dies, make this sickness the means of his salvation."

A few days subsequently, he wrote as follows.

My dear afflicted Sister,

"Were it not for the assurance that God reigns, and orders all our times and circumstances in infinite wisdom and goodness, our spirits would sink, and our souls be overwhelmed with sorrow under the afflictive dispensa

tions of Providence. I have no other resource for myself in time of trouble. I have no other, my beloved and widowed sister, to offer to you in view of that heavy stroke which has fallen upon you. My heart bleeds, and my whole soul is moved and agitated for you. Short indeed has been the intermission of your afflictions. We have wept together over the grave of a dear sister and father. And now, a tie still more tender is broken, and you are at an early period in life, called to part with a truly excellent and kind husband. Dear S., your trials are great, but oh! is there not some consolation for you? You have a Father in heaven, who has graciously styled himself the Father of the fatherless, and the God and Judge of the widow. You hope you have chosen that God for your father, and the father of your tender babe. Fly to him, my disconsolate sister, in this hour of tribulation. Pour out your sorrows in frequent and earnest prayer. Renew the dedication of yourself and your child to him, and implore sanctifying, supporting grace. This bereavement comes unexpectedly to us. But there is no disappointment with God. Your husband belonged to him, and he had a right to say how and when he should be removed. Bow with entire submission to the bereavement, and remember that although the event is veiled in impenetrable darkness now, it will be seen in another world to have been occasioned by divine wisdom and goodness. I commend you and yours to God. Oh, may he comfort you, and give you what is better than the most precious earthly friend, a portion in that world where all tears are wiped away forever."

The precept of God to the children of Israel, "Thou shalt not oppress the hireling in his wages," contained a sentiment upon which Mr. Cornelius frequently reflected, and by which he endeavored to regulate his conduct to