of thy covenant have I sent forth thy prisoners out of the pit wherein is no water!" Then with what transport will Jesus see his seed, while with infinite satisfaction he remembers Calvary! He will rest in his love; he will rejoice over you with singing. And must it not be to him, even now, an occasion of joy, when, by effectual calling, he hath found the sheep he had lost? I mention these things, my dear young friend, to shew how unreasonable it is to doubt whether the Lord Jesus will receive a sinner who comes to him. Now can you desire a better warrant than his own gracious, importunate, repeated call, accompanied with the sweet assurance, Him that cometh I will in no wise cast out;" a call enforced by the drawing of his Spirit? Tell me, are you not willing to receive him, to rest all your hope upon him, to possess your all for time and for eternity in him? But this is not the case with all that are invited. Alas! many hold fast iniquity, many cleave to the world, while they trust in themselves that they are righteous. They are already engaged in a covenant, and will not break it, with hell and with death. But your heart is with Christ, and you account all things but loss that you may win Christ. You are crying, "O that I had wings like a dove, then would I flee away and be at rest," in that blessed hiding place! Well, God has provided strong consolation for all who flee for refuge to lay hold on the blessed hope! And whence is your willingness to receive Christ? It is because Christ is willing to be stow himself and all his treasures on you: it is be

cause he has begun to overturn the throne of Satan in your will. He has been gathering you with his arms that he may lay you in his bosom; and cause you to inherit substance, and fill your treasures. Then come, come to Jesus: it is not contrition or deep humiliation alone, that renders you acceptable to Christ; but it is your coming to him, your leaving all to follow him, and your making him your all. This does him honour; and then is your sense of sin sufficient, when it produces this effect. I hope, my dear friend, you are come; that the great transaction has passed in retirement; and that you are daily coming, weary and heavy laden, to his open arms. The Lord bless you, and make you a blessing!

I am, &c. &c.

LETTER LVII.

TO MISS M

B.

J. BOWDEN.

Now, my dear friend, I am come to tell you how greatly I rejoice with you, and rejoice over you in the Lord; how tenderly I love you, because the Lord loveth you, and hath done great things for you, and because you desire to love him as your "all in all;"-for truly the Lord Jesus is nothing at all to those to whom he is not fall in all." Mercy,

sovereign mercy, how wonderful its grants and its operations! How endearing, encouraging, animating its promisesand prospects! The debt of love how vast ! How little at best can a saved sinner render the Lord for the mercy that has pardoned his sins, and placed him in his own beloved and honoured family! What a mercy to be, though but a babe, in that family! The Father of all has appointed that the strong should bear the infirmities of the weak: pay, and he himself compassionates and sustains them, and suffers them to lean, with all their infirmities, and wants, and cares, upon him. Must I congratulate my dear young friend as a child in this distinguished happy family? Yes, I trust, by the all-creating power of the Lord Jesus, you are formed anew. A new life has been breathed into your soul: you begin to live the life of faith, the life of God; the life that has grace for its spring, the word for its rule, Christ for its food, and heaven and God and glory for its end. Your eyes have been newly opened: you have light, newness of light, not natural only, but spiritual light. You are ashamed, and even grieved, when you look at and into yourself. You see that transcendent loveliness in the Lord Jesus which natural light never discovered. Strength you have, though but a little strength. Strength, not to bear the will of your Father, as his elder children can, and as you hope to do, but strength to sigh over the sense of your weakness, to lisp out, "Abba, Father" to receive the sincere

milk of the word, and to go while a Father's grace sustains you. You have, I trust, the affection also of a child: you can love much, though you cannot do much. The voice of Christ, in his word, is mu

sic in your ears. It is the voice of your beloved. Associated with affection, you have the natural antipathy of a child to that which his Father hateth. You have a deep-rooted, irreconcileable hatred of sin. The spirit in you warreth against the flesh. Grace is weak: you cannot prevail so far as to extirpate and destroy sin: yet it is your grief; and you resist, and strive against it, and cry for help against it. Nay, and you tremble at the word of God; yet this fear ariseth from love in the renewed soul, who is born of God: it is his food, his joy, his life. Seasons of distressful doubt and darkness may come, when these remarks may have their use. You know your spiritual birth is recent. Your corruptions and unbelieving fears will not suffer you to forget that you are a little child. The burden of affliction and of duty will convince you that your strength is small. But it is great mercy to have grace in the principle of it, however feeble; to be a child in God's family, though a new-born infant. Our God despiseth not the day of small things. He loves, tenderly loves, his child, though a babe; graciously listens to his voice, though feeble; and is touched with a feeling of his infirmities. A feeble believer has as secure an interest in Christ, as one that is strong: he is as truly redeemed from the curse of the law, he has as full a pardon,

he is as fully justified by the righteousness of Christ; his name is as truly written in heaven; and he has as really, if not as clearly, a title to the inheritance of the saints in light. Union with Christ, and the fulness of the Spirit of Life in him, is a privilege which belongs to the weak as well as to the strong. The feeble Lamb is led and guarded: he lives and feeds upon Christ as truly as others; and if, in following Christ, he cannot keep pace with the flock, the gracious Shepherd will take him in his arms. He will lay no more upon him than he is able to bear. Then, my dear, be thankful for grace in the bud, for a little strength, for the least mite of heavenly treasure. It is an earnest of more. Emulate the strong, but do not envy them. In the last day, multitudes will be found among professors to have no grace, and little grace will become glory. A little grace is more precious than rubies; for you have with it the precious blood of Christ, precious promises, and precious faith. You will, however, suffer affectionate counsel to accompany these words of consolation: Who does not find reason to suspect himself? "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." Often and carefully, then, examine yourself: see that the change that has passed upon you be an universal, as well as a real change of heart; that you hate sin as sin, and that you hate all sin; that Christ is truly your hope, that the desire of your soul is towards him. Then pray with the Disciples, "Lord, increase my faith." Cultivate warm affec