to hear any thing contrary to them, are yet strangers to their power and influence. Alas, a large majority of our congregations are, I fear, sermon-proof-they come to the house of God, and return like a door upon the hinges; yet through mercy we have little or nothing of the Antinomian spirit amongst us. Very few, whom I do not think believers, are so far blinded as to think themselves so, or have a desire to pass for such. They know they are not; and if asked the question, will acknowledge, that if they die as they are, they must be lost. But, alas, they do not lay it to heart.

As it is now pretty generally known that the Lord was pleased in his best time to answer my desire, and give me an entrance into the ministry, another letter added to the Narrative could hardly be said to give information upon that point. And the circumstances which led to my admission were too personal and uninteresting to deserve the attention of the public. Therefore though I am sorry to be backward to any thing you propose, I think any addition to the Narrative unnecessary, and that I have written enough already upon the subject of my insignificant self.

I thank you for your friend Mr. Anderson's verses. I am pleased with his mention of me, so far as it gives me hope that he remem bers me in his prayers. For the rest, as I hinted to you, a journey to Olney would soon convince him how much he overrates the poor curate there. If you look over the fifth and sixth letters of the Narrative, you will judge how I ought to be affected by the handsome things which you and your friend are pleased to say of me. I trust I have tasted that the Lord is gracious, and that it is the desire and joy of my soul to proclaim the power of that divine attraction which could draw so vile a wretch to himself-of the mercy which could pardon such a sinner, and extricate him from such a state of wretchedness and misery. O if my heart were not still vile beyond expression, the commendation of the whole universe could have no other effect than to cover me with blushes and confusion. Ah! dear Sir, what would you have thought of me had you seen me when I lived at the Plantanes? The sight of me would have been offensive to your eyes, and my speech would have struck you with horror. Miserable and despicable in every view-pinched with want, and the common mark of scorn and insult, my whole wretched amusement and pleasure, seemed to lie in blaspheming the name and person of Jesus, and in feeding my imagination with schemes of wicked

ness which I had not opportunity to perpetrate. I am to be compared with my namesake Sir Isaac. since given me a name and a place among his children, favoured me with the friendship and love of many of his most honoured and excellent people upon earth. And I have reason to thank him likewise, that he has given me an habitual recollection of those past dreadful scenes; so that there is seldom a day of my life in which my thoughts are not led back to my former state of estrangement from him, and that pre-eminence of wretchedness into which my sins plunged me. I hope he has often sanctified this review, to abate in some measure the force of the temptations I have been since exposed to, to think myself something. If he gives me a liberty in preaching, or enables me to write a letter to please a fellow-worm, should it not suffice to keep me from being elated, to remember that I am the same person who once delighted to treat him as an impostor, to rank him with, or upon the comparison below, Mohammed? or to think that some of my unhappy companions (as I have reason to fear,) perished in their sins, who had just cause to charge the ruin of their souls to my account? For Satan himself, had he been upon earth in a bodily shape, could hardly have been more industrious in tempting to infidelity and profligacy than I was.

You have kindly sketched me out abundance of employment. I need not now complain for want of subjects, if I had but ability and leisure to fill up your plans. But if you were here a few days, a better knowledge of me and of my situation, would convince you how unable I am to answer your desires. Judge by this one instance. I have longed to thank you for your last letter from the day I received it, and yet almost five months have elapsed before I could set about it. Do not imagine by this, that my time is incessantly taken up with business of real importance. I hope I am not quite idle. But alas! as I grow in years an indolence grows upon me; I cannot do as I would, nor even as I once could.

And now it seems
The Lord has

The letters I have thoughts of publishing, will be real correspondence-letters of friendship-returned to me by friends for that purpose; some of them written more than twenty years ago. I believe there will be two volumes of them-I suppose they will contain the substance of the little the Lord has taught me upon a variety of subjects, but very few points in detail, as not one of them was penned with the most distant view to publication.

to hear any thing contrary to them, are yet strangers to their power and influence. Alas, a large majority of our congregations are, I fear, sermon-proof-they come to the house of God, and return like a door upon the hinges; yet through mercy we have little or nothing of the Antinomian spirit amongst us. Very few, whom I do not think believers, are so far blinded as to think themselves so, or have a desire to pass for such. They know they are not; and if asked the question, will acknowledge, that if they die as they are, they must be lost. But, alas, they do not lay it to heart.

•

As it is now pretty generally known that the Lord was pleased in his best time to answer my desire, and give me an entrance into the ministry, another letter added to the Narrative could hardly be said to give information upon that point. And the circumstances which led to my admission were too personal and uninteresting to deserve the attention of the public. Therefore though I am sorry to be backward to any thing you propose, I think any addition to the Narrative unnecessary, and that I have written enough already upon the subject of my insignificant self.

I thank for you friend Mr. Anderson's verses. I am pleased your with his mention of me, so far as it gives me hope that he remembers me in his prayers. For the rest, as I hinted to you, a journey to Olney would soon convince him how much he overrates the poor curate there. If you look over the fifth and sixth letters of the Narrative, you will judge how I ought to be affected by the handyou and some things which friend are pleased to say of me. I your trust I have tasted that the Lord is gracious, and that it is the desire and joy of my soul to proclaim the power of that divine attraction which could draw so vile a wretch to himself-of the mercy which could pardon such a sinner, and extricate him from such a state of wretchedness and misery. O if my heart were not still vile beyond expression, the commendation of the whole universe could have no other effect than to cover me with blushes and confusion. Ah! dear Sir, what would you have thought of me had you seen me when I lived at the Plantanes? The sight of me would have been offensive to your eyes, and my speech would have struck you with horror. Miserable and despicable in every view-pinched with want, and the common mark of scorn and insult, my whole wretched amusement and pleasure, seemed to lie in blaspheming the name and per son of Jesus, and in feeding my imagination with schemes of wicked

ness which I had not opportunity to perpetrate. And now it seems I am to be compared with my namesake Sir Isaac. The Lord has since given me a name and a place among his children, favoured me with the friendship and love of many of his most honoured and excellent people upon earth. And I have reason to thank him likewise, that he has given me an habitual recollection of those past dreadful scenes; so that there is seldom a day of my life in which my thoughts are not led back to my former state of estrangement from him, and that pre-eminence of wretchedness into which my sins plunged me. I hope he has often sanctified this review, to abate in some measure the force of the temptations I have been since exposed to, to think myself something. If he gives me a liberty in preaching, or enables me to write a letter to please a fellow-worm, should it not suffice to keep me from being elated, to remember that am the same person who once delighted to treat him as an impostor, to rank him with, or upon the comparison below, Mohammed? or to think that some of my unhappy companions (as I have reason to fear,) perished in their sins, who had just cause to charge the ruin of their souls to my account? For Satan himself, had he been upon earth in a bodily shape, could hardly have been more industrious in tempting to infidelity and profligacy than I was.

You have kindly sketched me out abundance of employment. I need not now complain for want of subjects, if I had but ability and leisure to fill up your plans. But if you were here a few days, a better knowledge of me and of my situation, would convince you how unable I am to answer your desires. Judge by this one instance. I have longed to thank you for your last letter from the day I received it, and yet almost five months have elapsed before I could set about it. Do not imagine by this, that my time is incessantly taken up with business of real importance. I hope I am not quite idle. But alas! as I grow in years an indolence grows upon me; I cannot do as I would, nor even as I once could.

The letters I have thoughts of publishing, will be real correspondence-letters of friendship-returned to me by friends for that purpose; some of them written more than twenty years ago. I believe there will be two volumes of them-I suppose they will contain the substance of the little the Lord has taught me upon a variety of subjects, but very few points in detail, as not one of them was penned with the most distant view to publication.

I have likewise upwards of three hundred hymns, which I purpose to prepare for the press in the course of the winter, if the Lord spares me so long and favours me with health. If I live to see these two designs completed, I believe I shall try to retrench my pen, and apply myself more closely to the word of God and prayer. For I have more reason than Mr. Hervey to be ashamed that I have written so much and read so little-and have read so much of other books and so little of the Scriptures.

I could hardly believe my eyes when I read your age. Twenty years and a half! O you are highly favoured! I was as old before I quitted the chair of the scorner. May the Lord preserve your life and health, and bless your studies. I hope he has much for you to do. It is an honour and a favour that he has so soon admitted you into his interior school-I mean the school of the cross. My shortsighted regard would wish your trials to be very few and very light. I can venture, however, to promise that you shall not have one too many or too heavy. He will do you good, and enable you to do others good by them. You will find your strength according to your day, and all shall contribute to enlarge your experience of his wisdom, power, and goodness. You are his, and not your own, therefore he has a right to put you in any situation which he sees most conducive to manifest his glory, and to do him service. And he is rich enough to make you abundant amends for all you can suffer for his sake. Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart.

I must draw towards a close-other occasions will soon call me away. Write as often as you please: we love to hear from you. I will write as often as I can. Give my love to Mr. Anderson, Mr. Jameson, and all your friends. As I have little more upon my mind to offer in prose, I will annex two or three hymns to fill up the paper. I have a right to truth wherever I can find it, and some things in the Classics, though absurd as they were first applied, are beautiful and comfortable when Christianized, and directed to their proper objects: with this view, I have parodized two or three odes of Horace. If you and your friend Mr. Anderson approve the hint, I wish you to pursue it.