sent me, with much indifference and contempt. I construed his declining controversy into an acknowledgement of weakness, and triumphed in many companies as having confuted his arguments. And finally when I could not obtain my end, at my instance the correspondence was dropped.

His letters and my answers are now by me; and on a careful perusal of them, compared with all I can recollect concerning this matter, I give this as a faithful account of the correspondence. His letters will, I hope, shortly be made public, being such as promise greater advantage to others, than, through my proud contentious spirit, I experienced from them. Mine deserve only to be forgotten, except as they are useful to me to remind me what I was, and to mortify my pride; as they illustrate my friend's patience and candour, in so long bearing with my ignorance and arrogance, and, notwithstanding my unteachable quarrelsome temper, continuing his benevolent labours for my good; and especially as they remind me of the goodness of God; who, though he abominates and "resists the proud," yet knows how to bring down the stout heart, not only by the iron rod of his wrath, but by the golden sceptre of his grace.

Thus our correspondence and acquaintance, for the present, were almost wholly broken off; for a long time we seldom met, and then only interchanged a few words on general topics of conversation. Yet he all along persevered in telling me, to my no small offence, that I should one day accede to his religious principles; that he had stood on my ground, and that I should stand on his: and he constantly informed his friends, that,

though slowly, I was surely, feeling my way to the knowledge of the truth. So clearly could he discern the dawnings of grace in my soul, amidst all the darkness of depraved nature, and my obstinate rebellion against the will of God!

This expectation was principally grounded on my conduct in the following circumstances. Immediately after the commencement of our correspondence, in May, 1775, whilst my thoughts were much engrossed by some hopes of preferment; one Sunday during the time of divine service, when the psalm to be sung was named, I opened the prayer-book to turn to it: but (accidently, shall I say, or providentially?) I opened upon the articles of religion; and the eighth, respecting the authority and warrant of the Athanasian creed, immediately engaged my attention. My disbelief of the doctrine of a Trinity of coequal persons in the unity of the Godhead, and my pretensions to candour, had both combined to excite my hatred to this creed; for which reason I had been accustomed to speak of it with contempt, and to neglect reading it officially. No sooner therefore did I read the words, that it was to be thoroughly re'ceived, and believed; for that it might be proved 'by most certain warrants of holy scripture,' than my mind was greatly impressed and affected. The matter of subscription immediately occurred to my thoughts; and from that moment I conceived such scruples about it, that, till my view of the whole system of christianity was entirely changed, they remained insuperable.

It is wisely said by the son of Sirach, My son, if thou come to serve the Lord, prepare thy

I had twice before sub

'soul for temptation.' scribed these articles, with the same religious sentiments which I now entertained. But, conscience being asleep, and the service of the Lord no part of my concern, I considered subscription as a matter of course, a necessary form, and very little troubled myself about it. But now, though I was greatly influenced by pride, ambition, and the love of the world; yet, my heart was sincerely towards the Lord, and I dared not to venture on a known sin, deliberately, for the sake of temporal interest Subscription to articles which I did not believe, paid as a price for church-preferment, I began to look upon as an impious lie, a heinous guilt, that could never truly be repented of without throwing back the wages of iniquity. The more I pondered it, the more strenuously my conscience protested against it. At length, after a violent conflict between interest and conscience, I made known to my patron my scruples and my determination not to subscribe. Thus my views of preferment were deliberately given up, and with an increasing family I was left, as far as mere human prudence could discern, with little other prospect than that of poverty and distress. My objection to the articles were, as I now see, groundless much self-sufficiency, undue warmth of temper, and obstinacy, were betrayed in the management of this affair, for which I ought to be humbled; but my adherence to the dictates of my conscience, and holding fast my integrity in such trying circumstances, I never did, and I trust never shall, repent.

No sooner was my determination known, than

I was severely censured by many of my friends. They all, I am sensible, did it from kindness, and they used arguments of various kinds, none of which were suited to produce conviction. But, though I was confirmed in my resolution by the reasonings used to induce me to alter it, they at length were made instrumental in bringing me to this important determination; not so to believe what any man said, as to take it upon his authority: but to search the word of God with this single intention, to discover whether the articles of the church of England in general, and this creed in particular, were, or were not, agreeable to the scriptures. I had studied the sacred writings in some measure before, for the sake of becoming acquainted with the original languages, and in order thence to bring detached texts to support my own system; and I had a tolerable acquaintance with the historical and preceptive parts of them but I had not searched this precious repository of divine knowledge, with the express design of discovering the truth in controverted matters of doctrine. I had very rarely been troubled with suspicions that I was or might be mistaken: and I now rather thought of becoming better qualified upon scriptural grounds to defend my determination, than of being led to any change of sentiments.

However, I set about the enquiry and the first passage, as I remember, which made me suspect that I might be wrong, was James i. 5: "If any "of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not, "and it shall be given him.” On considering

these words with some attention, I became conscious that, though I had thought myself wise, yet assuredly I had obtained none of my wisdom in this manner; for I had never offered one prayer to that effect during the whole course of my life. I also perceived that this text contained a suitable direction, and an encouraging promise, in my present enquiry; and from this time, in my poor manner, I began to ask God to give me this promised wisdom.

Shortly after, I meditated on, and preached from John vii. 16, 17: "My doctrine is not mine, but "his that sent me: if any man will do his will, he "shall know of the doctrine whether it be of God, "or whether I speak of myself." I was surprised that I had not before attended to such remarkable words. I discovered that they contained a direction and a promise, calculated to serve as a clew, in extricating the sincere enquirer after truth, from that labyrinth of controversy in which, at his first setting out, he is likely to be bewildered. And, though my mind was too much levened with the pride of reasoning, to reap that benefit from this precious text, which it is capable of affording to the soul that is humbly willing to be taught of God: yet, being conscious that I was disposed to risk every thing in doing what I thought his will, I was encouraged with the assurance that, if I were under a mistake, I should some time discover it.

I was further led to suspect that I might possibly be wrong, because I had not hitherto sought the truth in the proper manner, by attending to Proverbs iii. 5, 6: "Trust in the Lord with all "thine heart, and lean not to thine own under