which you have suggested in the case of all preachers ; and in my own case for another reason, which if not so good an one, must at least be allowed to be a weighty one with me; I mean, because I am conscious that if I possess any talent for preaching, it is not that of treating a subject en thesi. But if I thought I could do much more and better, than I know I am able to do in that way, I certainly would not with my present sentiments of its utility, attempt it much more than I have done. The Utile, indeed, ought never, I believe, to be connected with the idea of such preaching; and as to the Dulci, I think it can make no pretensions to it. To me it conveys the idea of a laborious waste of study, and time to the preacher; and of the still more deplorable loss of a most precious and inestimable season to the hearers. Under this impression, I aim only at the plain and practical method in my sermons ; but with what propriety or success, must be left with those who hear them, to judge.

What is the usual length of your discourses? Mine very seldom extend to three quarters of an hour, and most commonly fall short of forty minutes. I never beard that they were too short; but have sometimes had hints, that they would not have been less acceptable, if they had been shorter. But the length of a sermon I know, is not always measured by time; so that the time which would appear long for one of mine, might appear very short for that of another person. Newton, whose character for good sense, and accurate observation, is not inferior to that, by which he is distinguished for his piety, in one of his letters, under the title of Cardiphonia, unites his own, with the prevailing voice, against long sermons; but allows an hour to

be a tolerable length in ordinary cases. To a brother clergyman, who sometimes held out to two hours, he observes, that when weariness begins, edification ends; and that, therefore, "it is better to feed the people like chickens, a little at a time and often; than to cram them like turkeys, till they cannot hold one gobbet more."

. He is also, I find, a friend to extempore preaching, as a mode more favourable to familiar language, and to gain the attention of the people, than writing and reading. Memoriler preaching will, I presume, answer the latter purpose, as well as the extempore kind; and in almost all other respects, seems to have greatly the advantage of it. But whatever may be the recommendation of extempore preaching, I cannot think of practis ing it; and among other reasons against it, because to me it appears to be impracticable, partly perhaps for want of courage, and partly, and chiefly, for want of a sufficient fund of ideas, and a ready command of language, to express those that might present themselves. I have indeed often heard it attempted by those who were not over-rich in either; but the success did not speak much in favour of the attempt. Do you ever make any extemporaneous excursions beyond the lines which your pen had previously marked out? In the few essays that I have ever made in this way, I have always fared just as I have done in all my endeavours to learn to swim; I have immediately sunk, and eagerly hastened back to the ground which I had left.

If I should add much more to this letter, I fear you will be led, from the citation from Cardiphonia in the last page, to conclude, that I consider, and mean to treat you, like one of Newton's turkeys. Yet, if other

letters, and other engagements, did not demand a share of my present attention, I should still write on, perhaps to the bottom of the next page. And even as

things are, this will probably be the case.

*********

The redemption of time is one of the most valuable Christian arts, but one in which I feel myself extremely unskilled. And surely there is no deficiency more to be regretted, or that can be more detrimental, as its injurious consequences reach, not only through all the stages of the present life, but through all the periods of a future immortality.

Can you tell me how to guard more effectually against the danger of being robbed, as I am every day, of some everlasting treasure, which might be laid up by some good done, that is omitted? But I am sensible that it is not information that I most need on this subject. For in this, as in innumerable other instances,

"I see the right, and I approve it too;

Condemn the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue."

And so it will be, till I am more careful to avail myself of that grace, which is sufficient for me, and of that strength which can be made perfect in my weakness. You find no doubt, as well as myself, that among a numerous people much time must be devoted, or if you like the expression better, sacrificed, to visits : for many of them will be of such a nature, as to be recollected only for the awakening of the mortifying and painful reflection, how much better might the time have been employed! Yet if we possessed, as we ought to do, the prudence of the serpent, united with the innocence of the dove, and the courage becoming the soldiers

of Jesus Christ, we might improve even the visits which must be made, as well as those which we would choose to make, to the purposes of acquiring knowledge ourselves, more useful than any which books can supply, and of suggesting and recommending to others, more profitable instruction, than any which we can communicate in our public discourses. It is well worth while to study how we may properly preach from house to house; for it may be made the most practical, and has often proved the most persuasive, kind of preaching.

Our worthy friend Mr. B. was lately chosen a member of the Convention, for new modelling the constitution of this state; to meet the beginning of next month. With affectionate regards to Mrs. G. I am, with great sincerity and respect, yours,

ISAAC S. KEITH.

MY DEAR WIFE,

TO MRS. K.

CHARLESTON, AUGUST 27, 1791.

THIS is intended to go in the schooner Friendship, Capt. W. Before it can reach Philadelphia, I hope you will be safely landed there, and rejoicing with our friends in the goodness and mercy of the Lord, to whom you have cried for counsel, protection, help, and all needful grace; and who performeth all things for you and me, and all who have ever sought him as their God, and have thought it good for them, that they should both hope, and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord.

When you left Charleston, I think you were enabled to possess a composure of mind, which was far beyond

any thing that could be attained by the best efforts of your feeble timid nature. In my view, it was such as could result only from that faith, which is the gift of God; and which is the evidence of things not seen, and the substance of things hoped for. With you, I felt disposed to believe, that as you had committed your way to the Lord, trusting also in him, that he would bring it to pass; so he would accordingly be with you in the way in which you were going, and conduct you to your father's house in peace ;* and thus remember to you the word upon which he had caused you to hope, and give you the desire of your heart in a comfortable meeting with the dear family, and other valued friends, from whom you had been so long separated, and whom you were so solicitous to see.

It will be very pleasing to me to hear, that our expectations have not been disappointed; and that you have again found, that the already tried promises, are the sure promises of everlasting truth, and all yea, and amen in Christ. And surely, by the first opportunity you will inform me of your arrival, and of many particulars of your voyage, and your reception in Philadelphia; so that in the renewed mercies, which you have experienced, I may rejoice with you, and that, distant as we now are from each other, I may, notwithstanding, magnify the Lord with you, and together with you exalt his name. In this most reasonable and delightful service, I hope in due season, to join with you in a more literal sense, and a more comfortable manner, than our present circumstances will permit.

While our thanksgivings are offered up together for mercies already experienced, let us not forget or ne

* Gen. xxviii. 20.