wife), is dangerously ill: the next brings me tidings of your sister's death. sister's death. In the former case, self is blended with my sorrow: my loss, if she is taken from me, will be very great. In the latter case, my sympathy and compassion are more pure. But I hardly dare to speak of sympathy or compassion: I know nothing that fills me with more shame, than the difficulty I find in entering into the wants and feelings of my fellow-creatures. Sometimes, if I am present with persons in trouble, obdurate as I am, I feel the truth of that Scripture, 'The eye affects the heart.' In writing to a Christian in affliction, I always feel that I am unable to open to him any sources of consolation with which he is not familiar. What then shall I attempt to say to you, and to your dear husband, or even to the afflicted children, who have such instructors close at hand? To you the thought of her readiness to meet the Lord will afford abundant consolation; but they, I fear, will find it only an aggravation of their sorrows. O that they might be led by their affliction to follow the faith and practice of their deceased parent!-and that we may be quickened, by the sickness and mortality of others, to realize the thoughts of death and judgment! I have been long absent from my flock, and long to see them again; and I want much to see my poor afflicted servant. I should condemn myself exceedingly if she should depart, and I not see her. I have but just received your letter, (three o'clock):-my physician is here, and I must talk with him:-dinner is just ready, and the Member dines with us:-and therefore I must conclude, with most affectionate regards to your dear husband, and any of your family that are with you. "C.S."

"I have just suffered a most afflictive stroke, the loss of a most faithful, diligent, and affectionate servant, who has lived with me about ten years. The same letter, which told me how imminent her danger was, informed me I might have one week's longer furlough: and I felt my mind much distracted between a desire to continue that week with you, and a sense of duty to her. As your disorder was not such as to require my continued attendance, or to excite any immediate danger, I thought my duty to her demanded my presence here, and now that she is gone, my soul is exceedingly rejoiced in having torn myself from you, to wait upon her. I found her sensible, but not by any means comfortable in her soul. Her fears preponderated, and darkened her mind: nor did anything, that I said to her, seem to inspire peace into her soul. Fearing the physician might not pay all the attention her situation required, I called upon him, and begged him to attend her twice or thrice a day, till the disorder should abate. He went and called a third time that day, but gave me no very great hopes of her recovery. This morning I was with her about half-past seven, and it appeared that she was about to be taken away from us. I conversed and prayed with her; but still all my enquiries, relative to her views of the Saviour and her affiance in Him, were attended with a shake of her head, intimating that she was not able to commit herself to Him with confidence. I returned to my room

to breakfast, and then went to her again as soon as I had taken my refreshment, but still I could get nothing but a shake of the head. This was exceedingly distressing to my soul; and I endeavoured, with many tears, to set forth again to her the willingness and sufficiency of Christ. Upon this, with a distinct and audible voice, she cried, "Lord, save me;' and I then again prayed with her to that God, whom I have long known to be a God that heareth prayer.' And O! how gracious was God to his poor suppliants! I still continued talking with her, and on asking her again, whether God had answered our prayer; whether she was now able to trust in the Saviour, and to cast all the burdens of her soul on Him, she gave me a most significaut and expressive nod. I then told her, if she felt peace in her soul, to squeeze my hand; and she squeezed it instantly. This was the signal for our thanksgiving to God; and immediately, with the utmost ardour of our souls, we praised and adored our God, who had heard prayer in her behalf, and had caused light to arise in her darkness. In less than a hour afterwards she departed to her eternal rest. Though I watched her continually, as did also Charles her husband, and attendants, we could not tell what time her soul took its flight. I had her hand in mine, and should not have been convinced at last that she was dead, if a medical attendant had not told me she was dead.

"Thus I have been bereaved of the greatest treasure that a man can possess. I had fondly hoped that she would have had to close my eyes; and have often been comforted with the thought of having such an attendant in my last hours. But, in the midst of my

affliction, I cannot express how thankful I am for having been permitted to attend her in her last hours, and for those expressions of her hope which I saw and felt. My soul is exceeding joyful in all my tribulation, and I kiss the rod, not with resignation merely, but with joy and gratitude. But why do I trouble you with this? I do it, that you may be stirred up to improve with greater diligence the time that is afforded you; and that you may cry day and night unto your God to give you tokens of his acceptance, before you come into circumstances, wherein the smiles of God's face will be the only support and comfort of your soul. O, may God be graciously pleased to pour out his Spirit upon you in a more abundant measure than he has yet done; and while you have yet time to glorify him on earth, may he make you a distinguished monument of his grace and mercy! Little did I think, when I was buying the shawl and jaconet for her, I should so soon have to present her with a winding-sheet. I intend to officiate at her funeral myself, though she did not die in my parish.

"Lest my letter make a wrong impression on your mind, I will just add, that I lay no stress on those expressions of hope which I have been speaking of, as though they were necessary to her salvation; I should have had a good hope of her acceptance, even though she had not so expressed her feelings: but, as coming from a person who had always to that moment been exceedingly diffident of her state, they are a source of great comfort to

"your very, very affectionate Brother,

"C.S."

To Mrs. RING.

"King's Coll., Feb. 27, 1808.

"My very dear Friend and Sister,

66

I cannot express to you the obligation you confer upon me by your kind and active zeal in my service; I think the places you mention for the little girl are of importance. There are similar places, one twelve, and another twenty-four miles from Cambridge; but there is not a dear affectionate sister at either of them to give me her report, now and then, as to the progress that is made. That weighs with me against a thousand things respecting distance, and will further serve as an excuse (if I wanted one) for going, now and then, to Reading to make all due enquiries. But, joking apart, I feel such extreme importance in the idea of having your kind eye upon her, that I shall not delay to come to Reading to consult you further on the subject. What day I can run down to you will depend on the stay that I can make with you; if I can stay only one night, I will (God willing) be with by the Bath coach on Thursday noon: if I can stay three days, you may probably not see me before Friday. After conversing with you, I shall wish to effect a meeting with the servant whom you mention, and I shall be able to allow her (in the event of my taking her) time to do everything that is right and kind by her present master. I am sorry to hear so poor an account of your dear husband; and I hope to bear you in mind before my heavenly Father, whom I know and believe to be a God hearing and answering prayer. With kindest love to Mr. R. and many thanks to Mrs. Johnson,

"I remain, my dear Sister,

"most affectionately yours,

you

"C. SIMEON."