LETTER XIII. To a Friend. July 12, 1796. I TAKE up my pen to salute my dearly be loved friend, who I was in hopes of seeing this day at meeting, and afterwards spending an hour with, but from outward circumstances, and from what I can gather from inward feeling, I shall be, I apprehend, in my place by staying this day. Though apparently separated from you, my mind often pays you a secret visit, and sweetly remembers the few minutes that I was favored to spend in your company, when last in town, which were too sweet and salutary to be soon forgotten. * 1 could have staid, and in the evening I scarce knew how to part. There is much to be felt from the influence of other spirits, which I have of late been led to consider as parti cularly dangerous unto me, in my present state, and, of course, requires a continual guard over thoughts, words, and actions. Ah! how weak and unstable am I, to be placed in so perilous a situation; may I then be enabled to get up into my watch tower, and remain there during all the various vicissitudes of this windry season; for surely the Lord is a strong tower of defence unto the weak and weary el soul, that flies to him for refuge from its des troyers, as David did from the hand of Saul. I have renewedly likened my present travel to the Israelites journey through the barren wil derness, to which my feelings incline me to believe it bears some small resemblance: but, Ah! saith my soul, may it not through disobedience be cut off there, but pass forward, with out murmuring, and be content to dip deep in the baptizing waters of Jordan; and even, if it is seen meet by the great Master, that it it! should pass through the furnace, so that it may be cleansed from all dross, and the filth of the flesh, with which I feel so encumbered, that my soul secretly mourns, and feebly breathes unto its beloved, for the refining influence to pass over it, that it may be fit for the Master's inspection, and in due season enter the promised land. While my fears are continually, in some measure, raised for myself; and the watchman, as it were, sounding the alarm in mine ears, in this land of spiritual drought, my soul is, at seasons, secretly exercised for my beloved, and (who, though separate, I think their situations pretty equal) lest the ever watchful adversary of their souls happiness, should beguile them as he did Eve, and take the word of life out of their hearts, and plant therein thorns and briars: Ah! that on the contrary, they may be as engrafted branches in the heavenly vine, bringing forth much goodly fruit to the praise and honor of Him who is the head. I received a letter this morning, from my beloved mother; she seemed thankful to our blessed Lord for a delightful voyage of seventeen hours; they were then going to a little meeting, it being first day she said, I must not expect favorable accounts of our dear Eliza, which indeed, from the commencement of her illness, I had but little reason to hope for, knowing the sweet frame of her mind, I think I could, in some measure, patiently resign her unto her dear Lord, with whom, I believe, her precious soul will, on its exit from mortality, ever after reside, &c. LETTER XIV. To her Mother. July 15, 1796. My dearly beloved mother's letter conveying the pleasing intelligence of her safety, and my dearest Lucy, was truly acceptable unto me; I trust you have by this concluded your journey with equal cause for gratitude to the great unerring disposer of us unworthy worms. may we be sensible of his favours so unmerited, and render unto Him his due tribute of grateful praise. Ah, how sensibly am I grieved, when my thoughts are engaged in a retrospective view of the infinite mercy of our heavenly Father unto my soul, in redeeming it from the bonds of Egyptian slavery, and his condescending goodness in renewedly feeding me with such portions of food as he sees best and most convenient for it, still to find therein, so much |