TO A FRIEND IN VERY DEEP

MY DEAR

PERMIT

AFFLICTION.

[REV. J. ALLEN.]

a sincere friend to offer

you his sympathies, and to condole with you in this season of deep distress. I would, if possible, say something that may assuage the anguish of your grief. Do not, I entreat you, refuse to receive consolation, nor sink under the burden which your Heavenly Father has laid upon you. Do not say, "My sorrow is greater than I can bear." Pray unto God earnestly, humbly pray, that he would sustain you and comfort you; and doubt not that your prayer will be answered. He looks upon you with tender compassion and love, and waiteth to be gracious unto you. Acquaint now thyself with him, and be at peace." -" Cast your cares on him, for he careth for you." -Yes, as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him." Let your afflictions draw you near to him, your best, your all-sufficient, your never-failing friend. Let him be the object of your supreme affection, and of your unbounded trust:

66

That friend who never fails the just,
Though other friends betray their trust.

"lover

He has indeed grievously afflicted you; and friend has he put far from you, and your ac

quaintance into darkness;" and in deep anguish, you are ready to exclaim; “ Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, O ye, my friends! for the hand of God hath touched me." Your friends do, indeed, pity you; but they are anxious that you should do what is right. Is there no danger lest you should indulge your feelings too far; and by abandoning yourself to despair, not only lose the benefits which your afflictions are designed to produce, but displease that righteous and all-perfect Being, who, in his mysterious providence, has seen fit once and again to disappoint your youthful hopes? Oh, do not, my friend, allow yourself to question, for one moment, the rectitude, and wisdom, and kindness,—yes, the kindness of all his ways. Bow with meekness before him; or, as it is expressed in the words of inspiration, "Humble thyself under the mighty hand of God, and he will exalt thee in due time."

I do not ask you not to weep. Religion does not require you to lay this restraint upon your feelings. Your heart would break, should you not weep. Jesus wept; and his example we may safely follow. I am sensible that you have cause to weep, that your grief is very great, almost insupportable. But do not shut your heart against the consolations of Christianity. That same compassionate Saviour who wept at the tomb of his friend, and who "hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows,"-still lives, and his tender heart still feels for us. He feels for you, and proffers you his sympathy and aid in this hour of darkness. To you those charming words are addressed; "Come unto me all ye who are weary

and heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Do you not now feel your need of other supports than this world can give? Oh, then, come unto Jesus; take his yoke upon you, and learn of him, and you shall find rest to your soul. He will teach you how to bear your afflictions, and how to improve them, so that they may be converted into blessings. Yes, one of his inspired apostles has said, “Although no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous; nevertheless, afterwards, it yieldeth the peaceable fruits of righteousness to them that are exercised thereby." And he himself has said, “I am the resurrection and the life; whosoever believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live."-"Sorrow not, then, as those who have no hope; for if we believe," thus the apostle addresses his afflicted friends," that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also who sleep in Jesus, will God bring with him." Think not of your beloved friend merely as the cold tenant of the tomb. His mortal part indeed is there; but his spirit is gone to God who gave it.

Let your thoughts, then, be directed to the world of spirits. Let your affections, which have clung, perhaps too fondly, to earthly objects, be set on things above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God. Remember that one thing is needful; and let it be your first, your chief concern, to choose and to secure that good part which cannot be taken away from you. Your affectionate friend, J. ALLEN.

FROM DR. BALFOUR, AFTER THE DEATH OF HIS ONLY SON. *

DEAR SIR,

Glasgow, August 17, 1766.

I BEG you will let me know particularly how you and Mrs Dennison are. I can say with truth, that from the moment of receiving the severe shock, an anxiety about you all has mixed itself with my tears and prayers. If my intended visit is on any account, or in any way, disagreeable, fully tell me ; for nothing is more remote from my mind than giving the least pain to any one of you. So far am I from looking with an evil eye at

as the cause of

my distress, the loss of my dear boy appears to be attended with many alleviating circumstances, which probably could not have been the case any where else. The time, the divinely appointed time, was come for his removal from the tender embraces of a fond parent. And since this was the divine will, I dare not say, unkind or unjust, of his and my Father in heaven, I adore and bless his name for enabling me to acquiesce with perfect satisfaction in his sovereign will. I knew this high and unsearchable will of God took effect amidst all that immediate attention which a parent's eye, a parent's hand, a parent's breast could have thought of for his safety. Instead,

* Dr. Balfour was, for many years, an eminent divine in the Church of Scotland. His son was drowned while on a visit at the house of Mr. Dennison, the friend to whom this admirable letter is addressed.

therefore, of one reflection, I now most sincerely give, and if able, will in person give, with my whole heart, the most grateful acknowledgments to you, and all about your house, for flying to the instant relief of my perishing child; that lady first. And the good God, who frustrated all these kind and friendly endeavours, which I shall never forget, has taught me, and will teach you, "he does all things well," according to the counsel of his own will! I greatly feel for the deep distress it has brought upon you, and worthy Mrs. Dennison, because you participate so much in my sorrow.

I wish now, my dear friend, to set before you some of the consolations, which have relieved my otherwise sorrowful spirits. The God who has visited me with this sore calamity, has, I assure you, been to me a God of all comfort! When afflictions abound, his consolations are made much more to abound; he has comforted me by fixing my attention on his divine perfections, his glorious gracious character, design, and relations. I see there can be no error, or rashness, in any part of infinite wisdom; nor cruelty, nor unkindness in the intention of Him, who is righteous, and good and merciful.

I hope that you, Mrs. Dennison, will not be afraid to meet me. I shall endeavour to cheer you with the consolations which are in Jesus Christ. They are strong, everlasting; and when the streams of worldly comfort are dried up, whither should we go, but to the comforts of divine love and faith? This is a fountain, which pours forth its gracious influence, adapted to all our situations. This dispensation is to teach us the vanity of this life, and