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MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS,

EXTRACTI FROM

PERIODICAL PUBLICATIONS.

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FROM THE

THEOLOGICAL MISCELLANY.

A LETTER TO A FRIEND IN TROUBLE.

MY DEAR MADAM,

THE letter we received yesterday from Mr. has given us some painful feelings for you both. He says, you are lower in your spirits than usual. By this time, I hope, the Lord hath raised your spirits again: I wonder not that they sometimes droop. Your part is trying and solitary, affording many handles, which the enemy, if permitted, knows how to take hold of. The pressure of your troubles is farther aggravated by their long continuance. It is one thing to stand tolerably in a skirmish, when it is but a brush and away; like a hasty shower in a summer's day, which presently leaves us in full possession of the sun again: it is quite a different thing to endure patiently, when a trial lasts, not for days or months, but from year to year, when expectation seems to fail, and all our scouts return to tell us, there is no perceptible abatement of the waters.

But is this the way to raise your spirits? Instead of giving you sal-volatile as I designed, I had almost mistaken the vial. Let us try again. Ay, this is it. Read the inscription, "As sorrowful, yet always rejoicing." No wonder that we are often sorrowing in such a world as this; but to be always rejoicing, though in the midst of tribulation, this may seem strange, but it is no more strange than true. When I want witness to this truth in open court, I may confidently subpœna you to confirm it.

They who would always rejoice, must derive their joy from a source which is invariably the same ; in other words, from Jesus. Oh that name! what a person, what an office, what a love, what a life, what a death, does it recal to our minds! Come, madam, let us leave our troubles to themselves for a while, and let us walk to Golgotha, and there take a view of his. We stop, as we are going, at Gethsemane, for it is not a step out of the road. There he lies, bleeding though not wounded, or if wounded, it is by an invisible, an almighty hand. Now I begin to see what sin has done. Now let me bring my sorrows, and compare, measure, and weigh them, against the sorrows of my Saviour! Foolish attempt! to weigh a mote against a mountain, against the universe! Thus far we have attained already, and aim to say,

Now let our pains be all forgot,
Our hearts no more repine!
Our suff'rings are not worth a thought,
When, Lord, compar'd with thine.

We are still more confirmed at our next station. Now we are at the foot of the cross. Behold the Man! attend to his groans; contemplate his wounds. Now let us sit down here a while and weep for our crosses, if we can. For our crosses! Nay, rather let us weep for our sins, which brought the Son of God into such distress. Agreed. I feel that we, not He, deserved to be crucified, and to be utterly forsaken. But this is not all: his death not only shows our desert, but seals our pardon. For a fuller proof, let us take another station. Now we are at his tomb. But the stone is rolled away. He is not here. He is risen. The debt is paid, and the surety discharged. Not here! where then is He? Look up! Methinks the clouds part, and glory breaks through-Behold a throne! What a transition! He who hung upon the cross, is seated upon the throne! Hark! he speaks! May every word sink deep into your heart and mine! He says, " 1 know your "sorrows, yea I appoint them; they are tokens of "my love; it is thus I call you to the honour of fol"lowing me. See a place prepared for you near to " myself! Fear none of these things: be thou faith"ful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life."; It is enough, Lord. Now then let us compute, let us calculate again. These scales are the balances of the sanctuary. Let us put in our trials and griefs on one side. What an alteration! I thought them lately. very heavy: now I find them light, the scale hardly turns with them. But how shall we manage to put in the weight on the other side? It is heavy indeed: an exceeding, eternal weight of glory. It is beyond my grasp and power. No matter. Comparison is need. less. I see with the glance of an eye, there is no proportion. I am content. I am satisfied. I am asham. ed. Have I been so long mourning, and is this all the cause? Well, if the flesh will grieve, it shall grieve bý itself. The Spirit, the Lord enabling me, shall rejoice, yea it does. From this moment I wipe away my tears, and forbid them to flow; or, if I must weep, they shall be tears of gratitude, love, and joy! The bitter is sweet; the medicine is food. But the cloud closes. I can no longer see what I lately saw. However, I have seen it. I know it is there. He ever liveth full of compassion and care, to plead for me above, to manage for me below. He is mine, and I am his: therefore all is well.

I hope this little walk will do us both good. We

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