on God and Nature. But how agreeably was I surprised! It contains a treasure of ancient learning, delivered in clear and strong language: and is indeed a master-piece in its kind, a thunderbolt to Lord Bolingbroke and all his admirers.

Sunday 15, I buried the remains of Rebecca Mills. She found peace with God many years since, and about five years ago was entirely changed, and enabled to give her whole soul to God. From that hour she never found any decay, but loved and served him with her whole heart. Pain and sickness, and various trials succeeded, almost without any intermission. But she was always the same, firm and unmoved, as the rock on which she was built; in life and in death uniformly praising the God of her salvation. The attainableness of this great salvation is put beyond all reasonable doubt, by the testimony of one such (were there but one) living and dying witness.

Friday 20, I preached to the condemned felons in Newgate, on To day shalt thou be with me in Paradise. All of them were struck and melted into tears. Who knows but some of them may reap in joy? In the evening I preached at Laytonstone. How good would it be for me to be here, not twice in a year, but in a month! So it appears to me. But God is wiser than man. When it is really best, will he not bring it to pass?

About this time, I received two or three remarkable letters, extracts from which I here subjoin.

"Reverend Sir,

"Lately I was requested to read Mr. Marshall's Gospel Mystery of Sanctification: it was represented to me, as the most excellent piece ever published on that subject. I have read it, and lest I should be mistaken, submit to you the following short remarks.

"It must be acknowledged, he is, on the one hand, copious in shewing the impracticability of real, genuine holiness, or of doing any works acceptable to God, till we repent and believe the Gospel. On the other hand, he shews

the deadly consequences of that faith, which sets aside our obligations to observe God's holy law.

،

"I rejoice, likewise, to find him shewing how well able a believer is to keep this law, and proving that this faith implies a divine assurance of our belonging to Christ: but most of all, to observe him speaking so excellently of the growth of a believer in holiness. We are always,' says he, 'to resist the devil, to quench all his fiery darts, and to perfect holiness in the fear of God. We are to be built up in Christ, until we come to a perfect man, to the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ.'

"But how does this agree with his asserting, 'Our natural state doth remain, in a measure, with all its corrupt principles and practices, as long as we live in the present world? You may as well wash a blackamoor white, as purge the flesh from its evil lusts. It will lust against the Spirit in the best saints upon earth.' How then am I to come to a perfect man, to the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ? Is there a reconciliation between the fulness of Christ in a believer, and all his corrupt principles and practices? Is it thus, that the strong man armed is to be cast out, with the spoiling of his goods? Does he tell me, I am to quench all the fiery darts of the devil: and, in the same breath, that I may as well wash a blackamoor white ?' That I can do all things through Christ strengthening me: and yet, that the flesh shall never be purged from its evil lusts; no, not in the best saints on earth, so long as they live in the present world? What a wonderful communion is here between light and darkness! What strange fellowship between Christ and Belial!

"What can we infer from hence, but that Mr. Marshall's book, containing so much poison mixed with food, is an exceedingly dangerous one, and not fit to be recommended to any but experienced Christians!"

The following letter is of a very different kind:

"Sir,

"I was yesterday led to hear, what God would say to me by your mouth. You exhorted us to Strive to enter in at

the strait gate. I am willing so to do: but I find one chief part of my striving must be, to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to instruct the ignorant, to visit the sick, and such as are in prison, bound in misery and iron.

"But if you purge out all who scorn such practices, or at least are not found in them, how many will remain in your Society? I fear, scarcely enow to carry your body to the grave! Alas, how many even among those who are called believers, have plenty of all the necessaries of life, and yet complain of poverty! How many have houses, and lands, or bags of money, and yet cannot find in their hearts to spare now and then to God's poor a little piece of gold! How many have linen in plenty, with three or four suits of clothes, and can see the poor go naked! They will change them away for painted clay, or let the moths devour them, before they will give them to cover the nakedness of their poor brethren, many of whose souls are clothed with glorious robes, though their bodies are covered with rags. Pray, Sir, tell these, you cannot believe they are Christians, unless they imitate Christ, in doing good to all men, and hatę covetousness, which is idolatry."

I do tell them so: and I tell them, It will be more tolerable in the day of Judgment for Sodom and Gomorrah than for them! I tell them, The Methodists that do not fulfil all righteousness, will have the hottest place in the lake of fire!

To awaken, if possible, these sleepers, I add one extract

more.

"Reverend and dear Sir,

"Some time ago I acquainted you how graciously the Lord had dealt with me, in delivering me out of all my troubles. For some time past I have been amazed at my speech, memory, and understanding, in all which I was remarkably defective. I have had power to explain the Scriptures to my friends that meet here, in a manner that astonished me. But I immediately saw from whence these blessings came, and with an overflow of love and joy, worshipped the great fountain of all goodness. I never was so

sensible of my unprofitableness, never so abhorred myself as I do now. And yet I feel no condemnation, nor any withdrawing of my Redeemer's love. He is my shield and buckler, my God and my all. Glory be to God and the Lamb for ever. Praise him for me, and praise him for ever. Let every thing that hath breath, praise the Lord.

"Since the Lord has not only been gracious to my soul, but has entrusted me with a share of this world's good, I am under an equal obligation to be faithful, in this as in the other gifts of God. Now especially, when help is so much wanted, I ought to be the more careful. Suffer me, Sir, to speak freely of myself. I have about forty seven pounds a year. As to my disbursements, for apparel, I buy the most lasting, and in general, the plainest I can. I buy no furniture but what is necessary and cheap. I make my own fire, and get my own breakfast and supper. I pay six-pence to one of our friends for my dinner. I drink herb-tea, and thereby save at least a shilling a week. I seldom drink tea in an afternoon, but sup at six, on bread and cheese, with milk and water. So I save at least eight-pence by dropping tea in the afternoon. I fasted much, till my health was greatly impaired. Then I used abstinence on Wednesdays, Fridays, and other fast-days, till I was obliged to leave this off too: but not till I was quite indifferent as to what I eat. So I determined, if I cannot retrench a meal, I can retrench the expense of a meal twice a week and on other fast-days, using potatoes, milk, or some other cheap thing. Thus I save four-pence per dinner twice a week, which, with the one shilling and eight-pence, make two shillings and four-pence per week, without retrenching one necessary meal. Now this two shillings and four-pence would buy as much meat as, made into broth, would nearly suffice for a small family. To be short, the expense for myself, meat, drink, clothes, and washing, is not twenty eight pounds per annum, so that I have nearly twenty pounds to return to God in the poor. Now if every Christian family, while in health, would thus far deny itself, would twice a week dine on the cheapest food, drink, in general, herb-tea,

faithfully calculate the money saved thereby, and give it to the poor, over and above their usual donations, we should then hear no complaining in our streets, but the poor would eat and be satisfied. He that gathered much would have nothing over, and he that gathered little, would have no lack. Oh! how happy should we all be, if this were the case with us! I mentioned this some time ago in a meeting at London, when a brother said, These are but little things.' As I went home, I thought of his words: 'Little things!' Is the want of fire, in frost and snow, a little thing? or the want of food, in a distressed, helpless family? Gracious God! Feed me with food convenient for me! Give me not poverty, lest I steal and take the name of my God

in vain!

"Dear Sir, I know what you feel for the poor, and I also sympathize with you. Here is a hard season coming on, and every thing very dear. Thousands of poor souls, yea, Christians, dread the approaching calamities. O that God would stir up the hearts of all, that believe themselves his children, to evidence it by shewing mercy to the poor, as God has shewn them mercy! Surely the real children of God will do it of themselves: for it is the natural fruit of a branch in Christ. I would not desire them to lose one meal in a week, but to use as cheap food, clothes, &c. as possible. And I think the poor themselves ought to be questioned, with regard to drinking tea and beer. For I cannot think it right for them to indulge themselves in those things, which I refrain from, to help them. My earnest prayers shall accompany your's, that God would give us all, in this our day, to know the things which belong unto our peace, and to acknowledge the blessings which are freely given to us of God!"

Monday 23, I went to Canterbury. Here I met with the Life of Mahomet, written, I suppose, by the Count de Boulanvilliers. Whoever the Author is, he is a very pert, shallow, self-conceited coxcomb, remarkable for nothing but his immense assurance, and thorough contempt of Christianity. And the book is a dull, ill-digested ro