to speak of it with regard to any one else upon earth. "Yours, with christian affection,

"T. A. POWERSCOURT.'

*

LETTER VIII.

*

"I have to thank you for your other kind long letter. There is a certain drawing out of heart towards those who care enough for us, as to point out in what way we may be grieving our Lord. Your accusations, I fear, are quite just; and I hope I may have your prayers, that I may be enabled to walk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing. I think it is in the Lord we are told to rejoice, a joy which can be felt while sorrowing, a good cheer in tribulation. I sometimes sit in astonishment, why my cup should run over with this blessing, and I have more when the heart is brought low to receive it, than when it is (which is often the case) intoxicated. I own I feel sometimes cast down and desolate, but not unhappy. I have had a deep, a very deep wound; the trial has been very severe; but how should I have known Him as a brother born for adversity without it? How should I prize him as my strength if I am not sometimes left to feel my perfect weakness? The heart is too selfish not to drop a tear sometimes, but I hope no longer a rebellious one. The wound is closed, but very little bursts it open. The marble must be allowed to melt a little, but only enough to send to that good physician, who

maketh sore, and bindeth up; he woundeth, an his hands make whole. I understand these lines,

(( Cry and groan beneath afflictions,

Yet to dread the thoughts of ease.”

However, if it is more to his glory, that I should take pleasure in the many blessings left in this world, dreary as it may seem through the glass of affliction, 'behold I am here, Lord;'-if to be kept low, even so. May I only be able to lay this soul as helpless on the great 'I AM.' And I can assure you, however appearances may contradict it, I have much joy and peace in believing, and find life a flux and reflux of love; Jesus is precious to me. I find his banner of love extended over Edinburgh: his promises here also are as honey dropping from the comb. There is not one on earth I desire but him; he is all my hope and all my salvation; and I can go on with confidence, knowing he can never deny himself, or say, 'I never knew you,' for he testifies not only that he knows me, but that he loves me, by enabling me to say, 'thou knowest all things, thou knowest that I love thee."

"Sometimes we appear such insignificant grassboppers, that it is hard to conceive that he can think of us and our foolish concerns; at other times one feels of such immense importance, that one wonders that Christians can live like other people, such as when we read of the bursts of joy from the heavenly host, and find this the sign that their Loid whom

they adore has become a despised babe, and all, be cause peace is brought to earth, and good-will to ma.1. Peace seems just what we want here, purchased by his blood, eft as his legacy. What simplicity there seemed to be in his words after his resurrection. He seemed to enjoy the travail of his soul, when distributing his peace. May he impart largely of it to your soul, and while recommending the inexpressible treasure of his word to others, may you be enabled yourself to feed on it, by faith with thanksgiving. May he empty of his fulness into all our bosoms, and enable us by using, to show we value the privilege of drawing near to him, to tell him of fear the world cannot allay, of wants the world cannot satisfy, of blessings the world knows nothing of.

"Your affectionate

"T. A. POWERSCOURT."

LETTER IX.

"Is your happy soul still lifted up? able

in his light to walk through darkness? I know the dreary waste that lies before you. How his dear, dear company is missed-how tasteless and insipid every thing appears-how you want that affection which entered into every trifle which concerned you -how want an adviser, a protector, such a companion -one to weep when you weep-to rejoice when you rejoice. I know we! what it is to lie down a night

and say, where is he?-to awake in the morning, and find him gone to hear the hour strike day after day, at which you once expected his daily return home to his too happy fire-side-and find nothing but a remembrance that embitters all the future here. Oh my poor, poor if I cannot feel for you, who can ?-who so often partook of your happiness? -sweet, precious time I have been allowed to enjoy with you both, but past. However it is well that you have another to feel for you. If I know the meaning of the word sorrow, I also know of a joy a stranger intermeddleth not with. How tenderly our compassionate Lord speaks of the widow! as a parent who feels the punishment more than the chastened child. He seems intent to fill up every gap love has been forced to make: one of his errands from heaven was to bind up the broken-hearted. He has an answer for every complaint you may ever be tempted to make. Do you say you have none now to follow, to walk with, to lean on? He will follow you and invite you to come up from the wilderness leaning on him as your beloved. Is it that you want one to be interested in all your concerns? Cast all your cares upon him, for he careth for you. A protector? Let thy widows trust in me. An adviser? Wonderful Counsellor' Companion? I will not leave you comfortless; I will come unto you; I will never leave you, nor forsake you; I have not called you servants but friends; behold I stand at the door and knock, if any man hear my voice, and open the door,

I will come in unto him, and sup with nim, and he with me. One to weep with you? In all their affliction he was afflicted; Jesus wept. When you lie down--safe under the shadow of his wings, under the banner of his love. When you awake—still about your path and about your bead. It is worth being afflicted to become intimately acquainted, and to learn to make use of, the chief of ten thousand-the altogether lovely-the brother born for adversity --the friend that sticketh closer than a brother-the friend of sinners. Pray write often to your poor sister; tell me of every thing that interests you; do not let the children forget me.'

From Mrs. Lewis, widow of the Rev. Michael Lewis, Missionary to the Negroes, Demarara, to her widowed mother.

66

'My dear and honoured mother,

"Surely I am bereaved! O yes, I am bereaved! But of what-of whom am I bereaved? Of a dear, a tender, an affectionate husband; of a mother, a friend, a brother. All these relations in him I found combined, but he is gone! My soul be still and know that all is well; rejoice that he who first gave thee such a treasure, has seen fit to recall him. O, I would not for one moment repine. It is true, I had fondly hoped to have had him spared to me for a few more years. Two short years and eleven days had just expired since we together left our dear widowed mother for a far distant land,