****
Dear Sir,
THE judgments of God upon Lisbon are dreadful indeed. I know not what heart can be hard enough to hear of them without concern. What but the amazing mercy of a long-suffering God can prevent London from feeling the same dreadful blow! And if God should arise to shake terribly our land, what great reason will those persons have to be thankful, whom God has drawn from all worldly schemes of happiness, and fixed their hearts on a basis, which can never be shaken, though the earth be moved, and the mountains cast into the midst of the sea? I have been much comforted in respect of the miseries of others by this scripture—When the judgments of God are abroad in the earth, the inhabitants thereof will learn righteousness. If such a blessed end is produced by these severe acts of justice, have we not reason even in the midst of terror to admire and adore? The whole universe appears to me to be in the hand of God, as a grain of dust in the balance; and I, a creature more insignificant, more worthless, and sinful than can be conceived, am among the rest in this almighty hand, and all is safe. My heart is by nature painfully tender, and yet in the midst of feeling, either for myself or others, there is a secret satisfaction in my inmost soul, that God is glorified in every act of his providence, whether of judgment or mercy; and I hardly know how to form any other prayer than Thy will be done.
I fear I shall not see you on Thursday;——but wherever you are, may the God of all consolation be your light and your shield, and bring you safe to that city, which has eternal foundations.
I am your ever-obliged friend and servant, &c.
*BY what you said to Mr. **** when he had the pleasure of hearing you, I imagine you think my illness is owing to a cause of which I am by no means certain; however the bare probability of such a charge would not be without my immediately reflecting on the dangers and temptations that would attend it. A soul, that is really desirous of attaining the pure love of God, is exceedingly jealous of any thing that has a possibility of drawing it from its centre of happiness, and looks upon any event which has this possible tendency (let the world term it blessing or misfortune) with a tender, anxious fear, which none can understand but those who have felt it. This was my case, and my imagination would sometimes paint a thousand instances which might draw my soul down to earth. And this fear (though it never made me wish any thing but what was the will of God) would bring the tears to my eyes, and cause an uneasiness, which doubtless proceeded from want of faith. But that God whose mercies are renewed every morning, soon delivered me from those fears, and calm peace, perfect resignation and watchfulness succeeded. And for this fortnight past, though I have been in continual uncertainty, whether I should continue in the condition I am thought to be in or not, my mind by the all-sufficient grace of God has been so equally kept, that I have not had the least wish or choice of my own, but have been equally pleased with whatever seemed to be the leadings of Providence concerning me. And you cannot think, what a work of annihilation this uncertainty has been the means of carrying on in my soul, which I see plainly in the nature of things could not so well have been effected by any other. I never can be enough thankful for the unspeakable mercies of God to so unworthy a creature. My will has been brought into deadness, which I, even a few months ago, should have thought almost impossible; and I see, and have some foretastes of that state which is called the pure and disinterested love of God, in a manner I cannot express.
I should be very glad to see you when your affairs will permit, for I have not had one help from without since I saw you last; nor have I had many of those joys and comforts from within which have sometimes been indulged me. And indeed my animal frame would have been too weak to have borne them, unless God had in a particular manner supported it: for every faculty of my soul has been weighed down by continual sickness. I have not only been incapable of any outward application, but also of intense thinking or fervent prayer. But in the midst of this my weakness, the strength of God has more abundantly been made manifest, that I might be abased even to the dust, and his free grace exalted; so that I well understand what St. Paul meant, when he said, Therefore will I glory in weakness, in distresses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.—But I must finish this already too long letter. Farewell! May the dew of heaven continually refresh you!
****