the diffusion of that light, should be prepared for their office in some such manner, as was exemplified in those most favoured luminaries of the ancient world.

My own idea of what is to be brought forth, makes me think that the blessing could not be too dearly purchased. My persuasion of the radical excellence of the Church of England, does not suffer me tc doubt, that she is to be an illustrious agent, in bring. ing the mystical Kingdom of Christ to its ultimate perfection. Her history, hitherto, seems marked by providential interferences, only less remarkable, than the miraculous interpositions in the case of the Jews. Arguing, therefore, from every feature in the case, I think an approaching depression more than probable ; but I cannot doubt that the end will be glorious. I imagine the approach will be slow: several years may yet pass, before the last act of the drama; and, when the event comes, if things were only left to take their natural course, circumstances here might differ greatly from those in England. There will be a great difference, in spite of Mr. Peel's tampering; but if he, and such as he, were to withhold their hands, the Church of Ireland would, perhaps, subsist, like Noah's ark in the deluge. I must stop.

Ever yours,

ALEXANDER KNOX.

63

LETTER TO JOSEPH BUTTERWORTH, ESQ.

MY DEAR MR. BUTTERWORTH,

I HAVE been wishing to reply to your last kind letter, ever since I received it; but various little obstacles concurred to produce a delay. I am two or three letters in arrear to different persons; but I will begin with acknowledging my debt to you.

The part of your letter which relates to Mr. ***** pains me sincerely. I have not shown my regard to him as I ought, not having written to him, as I should have done; but I can truly say, I esteem and love him to a very special degree. With much comfort, therefore, shall I hear that his fears respecting his daughter have subsided, and with real sorrow shall I learn the contrary. In truth, I am cordially attached to him and his; he being such, in my mind, as I have met not a great many equals to.

As to the effect of my sentiments upon his conduct, I am ready to account for all in which I can be justly responsible; but I think it likely I am charged with more. You can easily conceive, that I would hardly advise another to do that, which I do not do myself. Now, most certainly I do not withdraw myself from society on the contrary, I give myself very much to it, and I think it my bounden duty to do so. In fact, I make it a point to lose no opportunity of talk

ing to those who will talk with me; and I have no inclination to go one step farther into the desert, than I have already done.

It never, therefore, was my wish, to make good and wise Mr. ***** a recluse; but it was my wish, and I avow it most openly, to lead him to employ the invaluable rest of the Lord's day, in "communing with his own heart in his chamber," according to the counsel of the Psalmist, rather than in a busy bustle of Sunday-schools, &c. &c. I never recommended to him to quit being a Methodist class leader. I considered the situation, well managed, as highly useful; and regarded him as qualified for it. But, with all that, I did endeavour to impress on him, that, to keep his own vineyard, was his first and great concern, neglect in which could never be compensated for, by the most assiduous attention to the vineyards of others. I doubtless, also, did imply, in many parts of my conversation with him, that it was not by very great frequency of formal religious acts, that religion would, as I conceived, be best carried on in the world. I said, (it may be, more than once,) that I thought religion, in order to thrive, needed to have less of body, and more of spirit; and, possibly, I said, for I thought, that, directly religious performances were but equivocal expressions of religious principle; and that, therefore, a man might preach more effectually, by his evenness of temper, purity of conduct, and obvious superiority to the world and the flesh, than by all possible exertions of a more direct and explicit kind.

Beyond all this, I do not think I went with Mr.

** , except in my endeavours to re-unite him to the establishment; which, to be sure, were cordial and continued on my part; though, to this hour, I know not what effect was produced in him. But this

I can say, that my endeavours of this kind were the result of no bigotry, no blind prejudice, as I believe ; but because I conceived the mind, and taste, and heart of Mr. ***** to need something solid, and dignified, and cheerful, like himself; and, when such was my persuasion of him, to what quarter could I point him, but to the worship of the Establishment? particularly as it was his providential profession. To this point I still adhere; and I could almost wish it were possible for me to put on paper, on this subject, all that is in my heart: suffice it to say, that, when I thought I could prevail on this point, it would be a matter of conscience with me to make the trial; because, though I give the Methodists, (as I have known them, for, you know, English Methodism has grown out of my knowledge,) all credit for making first impressions, I cannot regard them as equally fitted for leading the true Christian onward. In theory, I own, they maintain Christian perfection; but, I doubt the tendency of their common methods of piety, to multiply living instances of it. It is my humble opinion, that, in pursuing this latter blessing, it is more indispensable, that a man should act for himself, and use his own faculties, than in coming at the lower blessing. In this last, the man is generally more passive, being acted, in a good degree, upon; the work going on pretty much in a way of sensation, and, perhaps, a good deal of emotion. In the higher work, there must, I take it, be more self-direction,—more united application of all the faculties of the mind,—more reflection than sensation ;-by which, however, sensation itself becomes purer, and more refined, by being made more and more steady, - more blended, and, in a manner, identified, with spiritual wisdom, so

that to think and to love, seems to be nearly one and the same.

This last idea, is so finely given by Whichcote, that I cannot but transcribe his words: "Man is not at all settled, or confirmed, in his religion, until his religion is the self-same thing with the reason of his mind: that, when he speaks reason, he speaks religion, or, when he speaks religiously, he speaks reasonably; and his religion and reason are mingled together; they pass into one principle; they are no more two, but one; just as the light in the air makes one illuminated sphere, so reason and religion, in the subject, are one principle."

Now, I honestly acknowledge, that the plans and means of Methodism, in this latter great department, do not appear to me to be equal to the doctrine of Methodism, respecting the attainment itself: they seem to me to have been much better witnesses for the truth of the thing, than guides to the possession of it. As I have said to you before, so say I now, he that desires and is pursuing this blessing, must rather seek it in his closet, and in his heart (for, to the steady pursuer of this, his heart becomes more and more his closet, though to no neglect of stated retirement), than even in the assembly of the righteous. He will not forsake this. In one way or other, he will still, as he is situated, cultivate the communion of saints. But, when he takes an active part, it will be to do good, rather than get good; and, when he is a hearer, it will be to him, perhaps, more a recreation and exercise to his mind, than a means of grace. Doubtless, to such an one, "all things work together for good." But, I am ready to think, that, to a person who is much occupied in inward converse with God, there is something felt of comparative exterioration,