melancholy thoughts about his doing so little for God, being so much hindered by weakness of body.

"Forks of Delaware, in Pennsylvania, July 1745. Lord's day, July 14. "Discoursed to the Indians twice. Several of them appeared concerned, and were, I have reason to think, in some measure convinced by the Divine Spirit, of their sin and misery; so that they wept much the whole time of divine service. Afterwards, discoursed to a number of white people then present.

July 18. "Preached to my people, who attended diligently beyond what had been common among these Indians and some of them appeared concerned for their souls. Longed to spend the little inch of time I have in the world, more for God. Felt a spirit of seriousness, tenderness, sweetness and devotion; and wished to spend the whole night in prayer and communion with God.

July 19. "In the evening, walked abroad for prayer and meditation, and enjoyed composure and freedom in these sweet exercises, especially in meditation on Rev. iii. 12: “Him that overcometh, will I make a pillar in the temple of my God." &c. This was then a delightful theme to me, and it refreshed my soul to dwell on it. O when shall I go no more out from the service and enjoyment of the dear Redeemer ! Lord hasten the blessed day!

Lord's day, July 21. "Preached to the Indians first; then to a number of white people present; and in the afternoon, to the Indians again. Divine truth seemed to make very considerable impressions upon several of them, and caused the tears to flow freely. Afterwards I baptized my Interpreter, and his wife, who were the first whom I baptized among the Indians. "They are both persons of some experimental knowledge in religion; have both been awakened to a solemn concern for their souls; have to appearance, been brought to a sense of their misery, and undoneness in themselves; have both appeared to be comforted with divine consolations; and it is apparent that both have passed a great and I cannot but hope, a saving, change. It may perhaps be satisfactory and agreeable, that I should give some brief relation of this man's exercises and experience, since he has been with me; especially since he is employed as my Interpreter to others. When I first employed him in this business, in the beginning of the summer of 1744, he was well fitted for his work, in regard to his acquaintance with the Indian and English languages, as well as with the manners of both nations; and in regard to his desire that the Indians should conform to the manners and customs of the English, and especially to their manner of living. VOL. X.

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But he seemed to have little or no impression of religion upon his mind, and in that respect was very unfit for his work; being incapable of understanding and communicating to others many things of importance, so that I laboured under great disadvantages in addressing the Indians, for want of his having an experimental, as well as more doctrinal acquaintance with divine truths; and, at times, my spirits sunk, and were much discouraged under this difficulty; especially when I observed that divine truths made little or no impressions upon his mind for many weeks together. He indeed behaved soberly after I employed him; although before, he had been a hard drinker; and seemed honestly engaged, as far as he was capable, in the performance of his work. Especially he appeared very desirous that the Indians should renounce their heathenish notions and practices, and conform to the customs of the christian world. But still he seemed to have no concern about his own soul, until he had been with me a considerable time.

"Near the latter end of July, 1744, I preached to an assembly of white people, with more freedom and fervency than I could possibly address the Indians with, without their having first obtained a greater measure of doctrinal knowledge. At this time he was present, and was somewhat awakened to a concern for his soul; so that the next day, he discoursed freely with me about his spiritual concerns, and gave me an opportunity to use further endeavours to fasten the impressions of his perishing state upon his mind. I could plainly perceive, for some time after this, that he addressed the Indians with more concern and fervency than he had formerly done.

"But these impressions seemed quickly to decline; and he remained, in a great measure, careless and secure, until some time late in the autumn of the year following; when he fell into a weak and languishing state of body; and continued much disordered for several weeks together. At this season, divine truth took hold of him, and made deep impressions upon his mind. He was brought under great concern for his soul; and his exercises were not now transient and unsteady, but constant and abiding, so that his mind was burdened from day to day; and it was now his great inquiry, "What he should do to be saved?" This spiritual trouble prevailed, until his sleep, in a great measure, departed from him, and he had little rest day or night; but walked about under great pressure of mind, for he was still able to walk, and appeared like another man to his neighbours, who could not but observe his behaviour with wonder. After he had been some time under this exercise, while he was striving to obtain mercy, he says there seemed to be an impassable mountain before him. He was pressing towards heaven, as he thought;, but "his way was hedged up with thorns, so that he could not stir an inch further." He look

ed this way and that way, but could find no way at all. He thought if he could but make his way through these thorns and briers, and climb up the first steep pitch of the mountain, that then there might be hope for him; but no way or means could he find to accomplish this. Here he laboured for a time, but all in vain. He saw it was impossible, he says, for him ever to help himself through this insupportable difficulty. “It signified just nothing at all for him to struggle and strive any more. Here, he says, he gave over striving, and felt that it was a gone case with him, as to his own power, and that all his attempts were, and for ever would be, vain and fruitless. Yet he was more calm and composed under this view of things, than he had been while striving to help himself.

"While he was giving me this account of his exercises, I was not without fears, that what he related was but the working of his own imagination, and not the effect of any divine illumination of mind. But, before I had time to discover my fears, he added, that at this time he felt himself in a miserable and perishing condition that he saw plainly what he had been doing all his days; and that he had never done one good thing, as he expresses it. He knew he was not guilty of some wicked actions, of which he knew some others guilty. He had not been accustomed to steal, quarrel, and murder; the latter of which vices is common among the Indians. He likewise knew that he had done many things that were right; he had been kind to his neighbours, &c. "But still, his cry was, that he had never done one good thing." "I knew," said he, "that I had not been so bad as some others in some things; and that I had done many things which folks call good; but all this did me no good now. I saw that all was bad, and that I had never done one good thing;" meaning that he had never done any thing from a right principle, and with a right view, though he had done many things that were materially good and right. "And now, I thought," said he, "that I must sink down to hell; that there was no hope for me, because I never could do any thing that was good" and if God let me alone ever so long, and I should try ever so much, still I should do nothing but what is bad."

"This further account of his exercises satisfied me, that it was not the mere working of his imagination; since he appeared so evidently to die to himself, and to be divorced from a dependence upon his own righteousness, and good deeds, to which mankind, in a fallen state, are so much attached; and upon which they are so ready to hope for salvation.

"There was one thing more in his view of things at this time, which was very remarkable. He not only saw, he says, what a miserable state he himself was in, but he likewise saw that the world around him, in general, were in the same perish.

ing circumstances, notwithstanding the profession which many of them made of Christianity, and the hope which they entertained of obtaining everlasting happiness. This he saw clearly, as if he was now waked out of sleep, or had a cloud taken from his eyes." He saw that the life which he had lived was the way to eternal death, that he was now on the brink of endless misery; and when he looked around he saw multitudes of others, who had lived the same life with himself, persons who had no more goodness than he, and yet dreamed that they were safe enough, as he had formerly done. He was fully persuaded, by their conversation and behaviour, that they had never felt their sin and misery, as he now felt his.

"After he had been for some time in this condition, sensible of the impossibility of helping himself by any thing which he could do, or of being delivered by any created arm; so that he had "given up all for lost," as to his own attempts, and was become more calm and composed; then, he says, it was borne in upon his mind, as if it had been audibly spoken to him, "There is hope, there is hope." Whereupon his soul seemed to rest, and he in some measure satisfied, though he had no considerable joy.

"He cannot here remember distinctly any views he had of Christ, or give any clear account of his soul's acceptance of him, which makes his experience appear the more doubtful, and renders it less satisfactory to himself and others than it might be, if he could remember distinctly the apprehensions and actings of his mind at this season.-But these exercises of soul were attended and followed with a very great change in the man; so that it might justly be said he was become another man, if not a new man. His conversation and deportment were much altered; and even the careless world could not but wonder what had befallen him, to make so great a change in his temper, discourse, and behaviour. Especially there was a surprising alteration in his public performances. He now addressed the Indians with admirable fervency, and scarcely knew when to leave off. Sometimes, when I had concluded my discourse and was returning homeward, he would tarry behind to repeat and inculcate what had been spoken.

"His change is abiding, and his life, so far as I know, unblemished to this day; though it is now more than six months since he experienced this change; in which space of time he has been as much exposed to strong drink as possible, in divers places where it has been moving as free as water; and yet has never, that I know of, discovered any hankering desire after it. He seems to have a very considerable experience of spiritual exercise, and discourses feelingly of the conflicts and consolations of a real Christian. His heart echoes to the soul-humbling doctrines of grace, and he never appears better pleased

than when he hears of the absolute sovereignty of God, and the salvation of sinners in a way of mere free grace. He has lately had also more satisfaction respecting his own state; and has been much enlightened and assisted in his work; so that he has been a great comfort to me.

"After a strict observation of his serious and savoury conversation, his christian temper, and unblemished behaviour for such a length of time, as well as his experience, of which I have given an account; I think that I have reason to hope that he is "created anew in Christ Jesus to good works." His name is MOSES FINDA FAUTAURY. He is about fifty years of age, and is pretty well acquainted with the pagan notions and customs of his countrymen; and so is the better able now to expose them. He has, I am persuaded, already been, and I trust will yet be, a blessing to the other Indians.

July 23. "Preached to the Indians, but had few hearers: Those who of late are constantly at home, seem, of late, to be under some impressions of a religious nature.

July 26. "Preached to my people, and afterwards baptized my interpreter's children. In the evening, God was pleased to help me in prayer, beyond what I have experienced for some time. Especially, my soul was drawn out for the encouragement of Christ's kingdom, and for the conversion of my poor people; and my soul relied on God for the accomplishment of that great work. How sweet were the thoughts of death to me at this time! How I longed to be with Christ, to be employed in the glorious work of angels, and with an angel's vigour and delight! Yet how willing was I to stay awhile on earth, that I might do something, if the Lord pleased for his interest in the world. My soul, my very soul, longed for the ingathering of the poor Heathen; and I cried to God most willingly and heartily. I could not but cry. This was a sweet season; for I had some lively taste of Heaven, and a temper of mind suited in some measure to the employments and entertainments of it. My soul was grieved to leave the place; but my body was weak and worn out, and it was nearly nine o'clock. I longed that the remaining part of life might be filled up with more fervency and activity in the things of God. O the inward peace, composure, and god-like serenity of such a frame! Heaven must differ from this only in degree, not in kind. Lord! ever give me this bread of life.

Lord's day, July 28. "Preached again, and found my people, at least some of them, more thoughtful than ever about their soul's concerns. I was told by some, that their seeing my interpreter, and others, baptized, made them more concerned than any thing they had ever seen or heard before. There was, indeed, a considerable appearance of divine power among