LETTERS TO A GLORIFIED INHABITANT OF THE NEW JERUSALEM, WRITTEN DURING HER SOJOURN IN THE VALE OF TEARS.

LETTER IV.

MY DEAR SISTER IN THE IMMUTABLE BONDS OF THE GOSPEL,

Many thanks for your thoughtfulness of me, and your letter. I would have replied earlier, but have been steeped to the chin in matters of business, from which I am far from being now released; but you ask, and I am willing to grant, a few moments of my time. Your sister is, I hope, much better now than when you wrote. Health of body is no small mercy; it is truly a gift from the Lord; perhaps, however, it would be more correct to say, it was a loan which our kind Father often sees fit to claim again, and we then see the worth of the blessing. Oh! what a mercy for you, for me, for all the blood-redeemed family, to possess the " unspeakable gift," of which, and the ten thousand others included in that One, our great Benefactor will never repent. He knows more of our unworthiness of the same, than we can know; yet He hesitates not, but with his whole heart and soul, bestows the infinite and eternal good upon us. It is ours too, for ever-at no one time of our lives are we more or less entitled to it; but it is every day, and all the day property; and for this reason, He "rests in his love."

The longer I live in this world, I feel increasingly assured, that the Lord's dear family are much in bondage through the legality of mind that is in them upon this momentous point, the free, irrecallable gift of Christ unto them. Sometimes they are looking within, and at other times looking without, but seldom looking up to see from whom the gift comes, and its free communication to them. The apostle says, "Every good and perfect gift cometh down from the Father of Lights, with whom is no variableness, nor shadow of turning." Now, my dear sister, the Lord preserve you from both these erroneous ways of looking for God's great gift, CHRIST. Never will you be able with sweetest confidence of soul, to say, "this great gift is mine," while you are thinking proofs of it are found in some inward qualification; such as feeling the necessity of the great Gift-earnest intreating for it-great desires after it, &c.; although these are of grace, yet are they neither salvation nor Christ. Many of the family of God are satisfied with their meltings, humblings, enlargements, longing desires, and the like. They suppose these to be inward qualifications, and that God will certainly grant the great gift of his Christ experimentally, and enjoyingly, because

of them; but he does not, and I think I might add, will not, lest the recipient of the great gift, should hereafter look at these things, and vainly conceive that they helped to forward the bestowing of Christ. Others of the family of the Lord (many too not his family), are looking without; they are moral, inoffensive, pious, prudent, regular attendants on ordinances, readers of their Bible, hospitable, kind to the poor, prayerful, watchful, diligent in commanded duties, as they call them, and conclude, surely God will walk in a path like theirs, and give them his great blessing, CHRIST. But no! All they have got is the approbation of their fellow mortals, and a little quietness of conscience that they are not so bad as other men are, and not so bad as once they

were.

The gift is still held back, and for this reason; an Achan is in the camp with his Babylonish garments; "Bread of deceit is sweet unto a man, but afterwards his mouth shall be filled with gravel." It pleases the Lord to fill his well-taught children with the gravel stones of his holy law here; for others, it is reserved for a fearful day of judgment. The Lord, I think and hope, has done this for you, and you have been taught to look up, although with a blushing face, to receive Christ as a sinner; and as you are such, and no better every day, you can prize the Giver and the Gift-i.e., the Father and the Son; and you have the infallible witness of the Holy Ghost, certifying you of your clear interest in all new covenant blessedness. Abstain then, my dear sister, from fleshly lusts which war against the soul! Be content to be saved as a Magdalene. Wish not to be something in thine own eyes, or those of others. "Pride of heart," says Ambrose, “will fatten on duties;" views of thine own vileness will lay thee in the dust; endear Christ, and glorify Him.

God enable thee to live like an apostle, and cast off the works of darkness, and clothe thee with armour of light, and thou wilt stand (where thousands fall), against the fiery darts of the wicked.

What says my sister to my letter? Do I hear her mutter, "I wish he had not written me thus?" Then write me no more, and I will not cause you inquietude. You would not wish me to shrink from my work, would you? I believe I am as much sent with orders to take away the filthy garments of creature righteousness and works, as I am sent to bring forth the best robe and put it on every sensible prodigal's back I find. I want to see you dressed like a lady—an elect lady; not with "changeable suits of apparel, wimples or crisping pins." I cannot bear that you should walk with a stretched out neck, and make a tinkling with your feet as a haughty daughter of Zion;" but I wish you to be " a chaste virgin to Christ." And if, Esther like, you wish to marry to a kingdom, please to remember you must not have your fancies gratified like the foolish virgins did, and be decked out as your fleshly mind would desire; but take and wear what the King's chamberlain provides for you. I know what the result will be; the golden sceptre will be held out, and you step from a dunghill to a throne !

I was going to apologize for my freedom in writing thus plainly to you, but, on second thoughts, I will not; as I believe you will discover what I have said to be "words of truth and soberness."

My love in Christ to your sister, and any poor souls near you, who can subscribe unhesitatingly to the great truth uttered by the apostle, "By grace are ye saved, through faith and that not of yourselves—not of works lest any man should boast."

I remain your affectionate brother in the gospel of the ever blessed God,

39, Old Broad Street,

London, May 8th, 1843.

THOMAS REED.

THE DYING TESTIMONY OF A LITTLE GIRL.

[THE following account of the conversion and death of a dear child, was lately so greatly blessed to our own soul, whilst travelling in a state of extreme darkness, that we cannot resist the inclination to reprint it. The gracious way in which the Lord applied this dear testimony to the heart, we shall never forget; some particulars of which we shall, in all probability, give in our next Number. We copy it from 4. Triggs's Memorial, published by Groombridge and Son.-ED.]

Under my ministry at Kingston, a brother of the before-mentioned one, was also called out of darkness into God's marvellous light (1 Peter, ii. 9); and also a little girl called Sarah King, who died at the age of thirteen years and eight months. The dealings of the Lord with this dear child are interesting; they clearly set forth the distinguishing grace, discriminating mercy, and sovereign love of the Lord our God. I had never seen her at my house when I was preaching, neither did I know she had been there; but the purpose of God according to election must stand (Rom. ix. 2), the Lord quickened her soul and set her at liberty afterwards she caught cold, and a rapid consumption took place. About a fortnight before her death she sent for me early in the morning. I arose from my bed and went to her; when I entered the room her parents and friends were standing round her bed, expecting her speedy departure. She desired them to leave the room, and told them to shut the door: she then said to me, "Help me up, and put the pillows behind me." I did so, and said to her, "Sally, why have you sent for me?" She answered, "To tell you what the Lord hath done for my soul;" I thought that my heart would have burst. We sat and wept together: I said at last, "Well, my dear child, do let me hear, how, where, and when." She said, "You never saw me at your house when you were preaching." I said, "No." "Why, (said she), I used to come down and get behind the front door, and stand there, that no one should see me ; and while I was there one night, and you were

preaching, the Lord brought his word with power into my heart, and I felt what I never felt before, that I was a lost sinner! In this state, I went on for some time, full of sorrow and grief on account of my sin and my lost state; but I was always at my post behind the door whenever you preached; and once when you were speaking of the preciousness of the Lord Jesus, and what he had done for poor sinners in redeeming them from all iniquity, and saving them from all their sins, I felt the truth thereof with power and blessedness in my heart, and all my sin and misery were removed, and Jesus was precious to my soul." She added, "You gave out that dear hymn after the sermon, Thou dear Redeemer, dying lamb,' &c., and I felt such love to my precious Christ, that I could sing aloud,' He hath redeemed me.' I never can forget the sensations of my soul, while I am in the wilderness, when I heard the dear child relate these things; I wept over her, and we rejoiced together, and praised the name of the Lord that had shown us so much mercy. Moreover she said, "When I consider the mercy of the Lord manifested towards me in such a sovereign way, that he hath taken me, while my father, mother, brothers, sisters, and relations are all left as yet dead in sin, I am lost in wonder, love, and praise." I really was astonished to hear the dear child talk in the way she did. She asked me to read some part of the word; I read the fourteenth chapter of John. She then asked me to engage in prayer, "but don't you," said she, "ask the dear Lord to give me health nor to keep me here; if you do, he will not answer you, for I shall soon be with him in glory." I prayed: it was a refreshing season indeed. Bless the Lord, O my soul.

The

I continued to visit her every morning and evening; we enjoyed much of the Lord's presence and the savour of his dear name. sufferings of her body were great at times; but she would often say, "What are my sufferings, if compared with those of my dear Lord Jesus when he suffered for me?" She spoke at times of the darkness of her mind, and of the temptations of Satan; but said she, "I shall soon be beyond the whole of this, for nothing can rob me of my precious Jesus, who hath loved me and given himself for me." The last night I was with her, after we had been talking about our most glorious Christ, she paused for awhile, and then said to me, "I do not want you to pray by me to-night." I said, "Don't you, my child, and why?" She answered, "I am above all prayer, it is all praise; I have nothing to ask, I have all I want;" she appeared to be in raptures of soul, and looking up, she said, "I see heaven opened and my precious Lord Jesus standing to receive me;" which she repeated several times! I was silent for awhile, wondering at the displays of such tender mercy from the Lord. When about to leave her, I said, I will come again in the morning. She replied, "You may come, but I shall never see you more on earth, for before you come, I shall be with my precious Jesus" and so it was, for before I arrived the next morning, her redeemed soul was fled to mansions of eternal glory.

"W. M." writes like a brother. His epistle touched the heart, and we thank the Lord for so sweet a confirmation of 1 Cor. xii. 26. Flesh and blood ever did, and ever will, dispute the way; but "Faith approves it well." There is a needs be for every trial-for every sorrow. Nothing has arisen-nothing can arise-in the experience of the church of God, either in its individual members or its collective body, to frustrate the Divine engagement, that "All things shall work together for good to them that love God, to those who are the called according to his purpose." And it is, moreover, so sweet, amid all changes of feeling and of position, to recognize one precious assurance, "I the Lord change not; therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed." Depend upon it, "W. M.," when we get to the end of the journey, and look back upon all the way by which the Lord our God hath led us, we shall say, "He hath done all things well!" Is it not often our privilege to say so, even now?

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How greatly is our correspondent deceived! The very feeling of which he speaks, is that which deters others from writing; consequently, much additional weight and anxiety are thrown upon the Editor. We never felt the lack of really Gospel contributions as we do now. supineness seems to have overtaken those who once stood by us, and, with very few exceptions, we are left to bear "the burden and heat of the day alone. Our sale does not fall off, and this we reckon as no small mercy: for this occurring just now would be adding sorrow to sorrow." Yet it would warm our hearts did we see, in place of the great readiness to find fault-the eagerness with which articles are condemned that do not come quite up to the mark-a disposition in our readers to say and do what they could towards the success of the work. Did these feelings prevail among the generality of the readers, our circulation would be doubled, and in the place of a solitary letter or two, we should have the gratification of opening by every post a good

handful.

TO OUR READERS GENERALLY.

Ir the Lord will, we hope in our next to give an account of a visit to the brethren in a distant spot, whence our readers have had the gratification of one or two epistles. Our meeting in a foreign land strangers in the flesh, but brethren and sisters in Christ, will afford recollections not easily to be erased. The time was a time of love; the season was one when the Lord himself was felt to be in the midst: blessed be his name! May He warm the heart to tell of it on the coming month; for to visit the brethren on earth seems to be one of the richest privileges we can enjoy this side heaven; and in this particular we at times feel it no small favour to be thus the servant of the Lord.

City Press, 1, Long Lane: W. H. Collingridge (Successor to D, A. Doudney).