to present ability, to the duties of the present day; who, satisfied with their own allotment of suffering, of exercise, of consolation and labour, cheerfully comply with the Divine appointment. These neither desire more nor fewer talents than what they have received, but, wisely occupying with those which they have received, experience an improvement.

I hardly know how to put into words what I have in view to recommend, and what I am favoured, at seasons, to see is the most excellent way; though, possibly, my dear friend, thou art much more advanced in this way than I am; it is to "be careful for nothing, but in every thing, by prayer and supplication," to let our wants be made known unto God, casting all our care upon Him who careth for us; to cast off every weight and every burden, and "run with patience the race that is set before us," doing with our might whatever our hands find to do. But what meaneth this language, which we so often feel, and so often hear?—I can do nothing, I have no ability, I have neither strength nor understanding; and in whose heart hath this language been raised more feelingly than in my own? for who is so deaf, or so blind, as the servants and messengers of the Most High, when His light is not with them? but when He, who "increaseth strength to them that have no might" of their own, and who speaketh to things that are not, as though

they were, and they obey Him, when, in gracious condescension, He is pleased to call, to move to any little service amongst our brethren.

Let us not, then, complain for want of ability, nor reason upon our own unfitness. Remember, it was through "faith the walls of Jericho fell down;" but the rams' horns were employed as instruments. Oh this faith! to which all things are possible; which removes mountains; in which we should walk, and without which "it is impossible to please God." Let us contend for it, let us watch unto prayer that it may be increased, for by this all the fiery darts of the enemy shall be quenched. I know that Jesus is the author of this faith, I know it is the faith of the operation of God; but yet I am verily persuaded, that by standing open, and willingly yielding to this operation, or turning away and shutting our minds against it, we shall experience an increase or diminution of it. Abraham believed God, against all human probability, and "it was accounted to him," saith the apostle, for righteousness." "Lord! be it unto me according to thy word," said the holy Virgin Mary: thus prepared, she conceived the Redeemer of mankind. "Have faith in God," said the ever blessed Jesus to His disciples; and to Thomas, "be not faithless, but believing." "Said I not unto thee," was the answer of our Lord to Martha, "if thou wouldst believe, thou shouldst see the glory of God.”

It is not in my heart, very far from it, to put any upon moving in the Lord's service in their own wills, or their own time; but I want to recommend to thee, my dear friend, what I feel to be necessary for myself,—an unreserved dedication of heart to God, a careful abiding with, and attention to, the blessed Master. It is in my heart to say to thee, Whatsoever he saith to thee, do it. 'No man, 66 by taking thought, can add one cubit unto his stature." "I would have you," said the apostle, to be" without carefulness." Let us leave every thing to Him who has all power; let us commit ourselves, and our all, our children, who are dear to us as our own lives, unto the Bishop of Souls, who loves and cares for them more than we do, who (blessed be His holy name, saith all that is within me) hath not only died for us, but for our children. Oh! that they also may be made willing to die to themselves, that they might live to Him.

Under the fresh feeling of the Heavenly Father's love, (of which I am no ways worthy,) I salute thee as a brother in Christ, and commend us both unto His holy keeping.

JOHN THORP.

Remember me affectionately to thy wife, whose dwelling, I trust, is secure in the valley of humility.

Letter XXIX.

TO RICHARD REYNOLDS.

My dear Friend,

Manchester, 11th Mo. 15, 1794.

Having the opportunity of conveying a few lines to thee, I am unwilling to let it slip, and though I should have nothing to write worthy of much regard, yet thou wilt at least be convinced of my good-will, and that if I had any thing better, I should as freely offer it. I am not much in the practice of boasting of my infirmities, and, truly, I have nothing else to boast of. I often think there is too much of this amongst us; and yet, lest thou shouldst think of me above what I am, I am free to tell thee, that weakness and poverty are often my companions; that jealousy and fear, both night and day, do frequently attend me, lest I should not be so improving my time, and the talents committed to me, as I ought to do; lest I should not be so steadily preferring the things which are most excellent, not enough setting my affections on things which are above, and looking "toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus;" lest obedience should not keep pace with knowledge, and the day's work with the day: because I do see so clearly that "the end of all things is at hand;" that the summer will soon be over, and the harvest ended. Now, if any

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thing like this should also be thy experience, I am not sorry for it; but I do pray that this poverty, this weakness, this jealousy and fear, may, to both of us, be sanctified to our complete redemption.

Oh this great work, REDEMPTION! if this be but happily accomplished in our experience, it matters very little what else is gained or lost. I thought so, through adorable Mercy, in my early youth; when, through the visitation of the “dayspring from on high," a prospect was opened into things which are invisible; the transcendent beauty of holiness was disclosed, and the glory of this world was stained in my view. With what zeal and fervency was I then engaged to labour, to obtain an inheritance "eternal in the Heavens," "that fadeth not away!" and oh! the solicitude that I have, and do now feel, since I am advanced more in years, that I might not survive the greenness of my youth; that I might not become more lax, lukewarm, and indifferent, than I was "in the day of mine espousals." And, indeed, I can say, to the glory of His name, who lives for ever, that my love to God, and to my brethren, has not been on the decrease. No, no! my soul was never more ravished with one of His looks, with one chain of His neck, whom my soul increasingly esteems "the chiefest among ten thousand," and "altogether lovely." Never, never, had religion so many charms, that I do many a time think, when the vision of light is a little opened in my view, that