I have told you the truth from my heart: forgive me these injurious suspicions, and never imagine that I shall hear from you upon this delightful theme without a real joy, or without prayer to God to prosper you in the way of his truth, his sanctifying and saving truth. The book you mention lies now upon my table. Marshal is an old acquaintance of mine; I have both read him and heard him read with pleasure and edification. The doctrines he maintains are, under the influence of the Spirit of Christ, the very life of my soul, and the soul of all my happiness; that Jesus is a present Saviour from the guilt of sin by his most precious blood, and from the power of it by his Spirit; that corrupt and wretched in ourselves, in him, and in him only, we are complete; that being united to Jesus by a lively faith, we have a solid and eternal interest in his obedience and sufferings, to justify us before the face of our heavenly Father; and that all this inestimable treasure, the earnest of which is in grace, and its consummation in glory, is given, freely given to us of God; in short, that he hath opened the kingdom of Heaven to all believers. These are the truths which, by the grace of God, shall ever be dearer to me than life itself; shall ever be placed next my heart as the throne whereon the Saviour himself shall sit, to sway all its motions, and reduce that world of iniquity and rebellion to a state of filial and affectionate obedience to the will of the Most Holy. These, my dear cousin, are the truths to which by nature we are enemies-they debase the sinner, and exalt the Saviour to a degree which the pride of our hearts (till almighty grace subdues them) is determined never to allow. May the Almighty reveal his Son in our hearts, continually more and more, and teach us to increase in love towards him continually, for having given us the unspeakable riches of Christ. Yours faithfully, WM. COWPER. LETTER XI. To Mrs. COWPER, at the Park-House, Hartford. I just add a line by way of Postscript to my last, to apprize you of the arrival of a very dear friend of mine at the Park on Friday next, the son of Mr. Unwin, whom I have desired to call on you in his way from London to Huntingdon. If you knew him as well as I do, you would love him as much. But I leave the young man to speak for himself, which he is very able to do. He is ready possessed of an answer to every question you can possibly ask concerning me, and knows my whole story, from first to last. give you this previous notice, because I know you are not fond of strange faces, and because I thought it would, in some degree, save him the pain of announcing himself. I am become a great florist and shrub doctor. If the Major can make up a small packet of seeds that will make a figure in a garden, where we have little else besides jessamine and honeysuckle; such a packet I mean as may be put into one's fob, I will promise to take great care of them, as I ought to value natives of the Park. They must not be such, however, as require great skill in the management, for at present have no skill to spare. I think Marshal one of the best writers, and the most spiritual expositor of Scripture, I ever read. I admire the strength of his argument, and the clearness of his reasoning upon those parts of our most holy Religion which are generally least understood (even by real Christians) as master-pieces of the kind. His section upon the union of the soul with Christ is an in stance of what I mean, in which he has spoken of a most mysterious truth with admirable perspicuity, and with great good sense, making it all the while subservient to his main purport, of proving holiness to be the fruit and effect of faith. I subjoin thus much upon that author, because though you desire my opinion of him, I remember that in my last I rather left you to find it out by inference than expressed it as I ought to have done. I never met with a man who understood the plan of salvation better, or was more happy in explaining it. LETTER XII. To Mrs. COWPER, at the Park-House, Hartford. MY DEAR COUSIN, Huntingdon, April 3, 1767. You sent my friend Unwin home to us charmed with your kind reception of him, and with every thing he saw at the Park. Shall I once more give you a peep into my vile and deceitful Heart? What motive do you think lay at the bottom of my conduct when I desired him to call upon you? I did not suspect at first that pride and vain-glory had any share in it, but quickly after I had recommended the visit to him I discovered in that fruitful soil the very root of the matter. You know I am a stranger here; all such are suspected characters, unless they bring their credentials with them. To this moment, I believe, it is matter of speculation in the place whence I came, and to whom 1 belong. Though my friend, you may suppose, before I was admitted an intimate here, was satisfied that I was not a mere vagabond, and has since that time received more convincing proofs of my sponsibility, yet I could not resist the opportunity of furnishing him with ocular demonstration of it, by introducing him to one of my most splendid connections; that when he hears me called that fellow Cowper, which has happened heretofore,, he may be able, upon unquestionable evidence, to assert my gentlemanhood, and relieve me from the weight of that opprobrious appellation. Oh Pride, Pride! it deceives with the subtlety of a serpent, and seems to walk erect though it crawls upon the earth. How will it twist and twine itself about to get from under the Cross, which it is the glory of our Christian calling to be able to bear with patience and good will. They who can guess at the heart of a stranger, and you especially, who are of a compassionate temper, will be more ready perhaps to excuse me in this instance than I can be to excuse myself. But in good truth it was abominable pride of heart, indignation and vanity, and deserves no better name. How should such a creature be admitted into those pure and sinless mansions where nothing shall enter that defileth, did not the Blood of Christ, applied by the hand of Faith, take away the guilt of sin, and leave no spot or stain behind it? Oh what continual need have I of an Almighty, all-sufficient Saviour? I am glad you are acquainted so particularly with all the circumstances of my story, for I know that your secrecy and discretion may be trusted with any thing. A thread of mercy run through all the intricate maze of those afflictive providences, so mysterious to myself at the time, and which must ever remain so to all who will not see what was the great design of them: at the judgment seat of Christ the whole shall be laid open. How is the rod of iron changed into a sceptre of love! I thank you for the seeds; I have committed some of each sort to the ground, whence they will soon spring up like so many mementos to remind me of my friends at the Park. LETTER XIII. To Mrs. COWPER, at the Park-House, Hartford. MY DEAR COUSIN, Huntingdon, July 13, 1767. The newspaper has told you the truth. Poor Mr. Unwin, being flung from his horse, as he was going to his church on Sunday morning, received a dreadful fracture on the back part of his scull, under which he languished till Thursday evening, and then died. This awful dispensation has left an impres sion on our spirits which will not presently be worn off. He died in a poor cottage, to which he was carried immediately after his fall, about a mile from home, and his body could not be brought to his house till the spirit was gone to him who gave it. May it be a lesson to us to watch, since we know not the day nor hour when our Lord cometh. The effect of it upon my circumstances will only be a change of the place of my abode: for I shall still, by God's leave, continue with Mrs. Unwin, whose behaviour to me has always been that of a mother to a son. We know not yet where we shall settle, but we trust, that the Lord, whom we seek, will go before us, and prepare a rest for us. We have employed our friend Haweis, Dr. Conyers, of Helmsley, in Yorkshire, and Mr. Newton of Olney, to look out for us, but at present are entirely ignorant under which of the three we shall settle, or whether under either. I have wrote to my |