your fears and toils, and unite with your unworthy Fanny in admiring the riches of redeeming blood, and the wonders of a wonderworking God. If we are in Jesus, we are bound to a happier world, where the heart shall never beat, but with joy and rapture; where the voice shall never sound, but with songs of bliss; where the countenance shall never appear, but with ineffable beauty and splendor; where the feet shall never walk, but on the crystal pavement of heaven. There the weary pilgrim rests from his labors at an eternal remove from all the inquietudes of this mortal life, and all the varied changes of this chequered scene. No fear rises in his bosom, no tear trickles in his eye; for all the powers and faculties of his nature are so many avenues of delight. Wherefore, we will "comfort one another with these words."

But who purchased all this felicity? Who opened the door of heaven, which the apostasy of man had barred? Let Calvary speak. On the cross erected there, hangs suspended between heaven and earth, the Lord of glory, bleeding, groaning, gasping, dying. Ye daughters of Jerusalem, well might ye weep at a scene, so unparalleled and so tragical! Well might the sun withdraw his beams, when his Maker languished in the sleep of death. From that cross, trembling with agony, and covered with blood, salvation smiles on guilty man; and the light of heaven beams resplendent on a dying world, Jesus! name divinely sweet; let the shining seraphs above sound it through the realms of bliss, and set it to every golden harp. Let mortals catch the fire, and ture

their feebler voices to celebrate its praise. Let it be our glory and our boast, entwined around our hearts, and more grateful to our ears than the sound of music. Ô that my heart were of flesh; that it might burn with love and gratitude, and melt with holy compunction and penitential sorrow. But ah, its adamantine hardness causes me many a bitter sigh, and falling tear, and often clouds my brow with gloom. But I will still rejoice, my dear friend, that I know who can soften it, that Jesus is exalted to give repentance and remission of sins, and that the blood, which once burst from his sacred body, and has washed away mountains and mountains of iniquities, still retains its powerful efficacy. When you are looking to him do not forget me. Entreat of him to clothe me with humility, and satisfy my hungering, thirsting, fainting soul with righteousness. He fills the poor with good things, while he sends the rich empty away, They that wait on him shall renew their strength, and he will manifest his power in their weakness, guide them by his Spirit, perform all the work for them and in them, and at length receive them to his heavenly rest. FANNY WOODBURY.

JOURNAL, 1813.

Nov. 5. Since I last wrote, my very greatly and justly beloved Mrs. Francis has reached her wished-for home. Through months of pain and weakness, I witnessed her patience, resignation and serenity, and listened to an unreserved disclosure of her trembling fears, her joyful hopes and heavenly prospects. My

familiar intercourse with her during her sickness endeared her to my heart, and gave me a lively idea of her Christian attainments almost unknown before. I conceive her to have been eminently meek, humble and benevolent; one that made conscience of duty, and lived devoted to God in sweet retirement. Ah, how often have I grasped her feeble hand, gazed mournfully on her languid countenance, while her eyes, full of animation, indicated her attention to every observation, and also the tranquillity and peace of her mind. It is done; cruel death has executed his commission, has torn her from all earthly ties, and borne, her to her Savior and her God. I cannot forget to cherish her dying words, and prize as a treasure the familiarity, with which she favored me; and, if I was a mean of affording her one gleam of comfort and support, I value it more than rubies; and let all the glory ascend to God.

Letter to Miss N. J. of Beverly.

Beverly, Nov. 1813. Monday. It is with a trembling heart, and emotions almost unknown before, that I now accost you, my dear Nancy; and O that I had the pen of a ready writer, to give you a faint transcript of my feelings; but to express them adequately is a task not to be executed.

Does it not animate you to hear of the prosperity of Zion, and the advancement of the Redeemer's kingdom? Would it not cause your heart to beat with joy to see careless souls, for which Immanuel bled and died, awakened to anxious concern, and solicitously inquiring, what must I do to be saved? Then,

my beloved friend, you will take a lively in terest in what I am about to relate; you will share in my joy, in my hopes, and my fears. For some time past, those, whom I have es teemed real Christians, have appeared to awake from their slumbers, have had great desires for a revival of religion, and have felt in a greater degree the importance of earnest intercession at the throne of grace. A precious few (O were their number increased) have witnessed with deep concern the "signs of the times," have sighed and cried for the abomi nations that abound, have lamented their past lukewarmness, and the general carelessness and stupidity of sinners, and in season and out of season have importunately supplicated the out-pouring of the Spirit. This is encourag ing; but I ardently wished that they felt more impressed with these things, that they were incessant and indefatigable in pleading with a prayer-hearing and prayer-answering God.

10

Three or four females, who for years have had partial convictions, and felt from time to time the inestimable worth of their immortal souls, and the necessity of a change of heart, have evidently become more seriously im pressed. Their countenances discover the anguish of their hearts; and they wonder at their past indifference and unconcern. One of these I conversed with last evening. I in quired tenderly how she felt. "," answered she, "I cannot tell you how I feel-I feel dreadful wicked." She then told me, what indeed I knew before, that many years ago she had awakenings and convictions; that they termin ated in comfort; but that her life had been

such since, that she must admit the conclusion, that she was an entire stranger to experimental piety. O could she have the feelings and the exercises of some, she thought she should have hope. I asked if she had lived without prayer. She readily rejoined, "O yes, I have; and as I know what you say to be true, that Christians do love prayer, &c. that makes me think that I never had true religion. I have grieved the Holy Spirit by my attachment to the world." She said much more to the same purport; but, as I had not satisfactory evidence of her being renewed, I did not dare to administer consolation. So after expatiating on the vast importance of being created anew in Christ Jesus, bringing into view some distinguishing marks, by which she might try herself, &c. I took my leave. Her daughter, once volatile and stupid, is much distressed. Her flowing tears and heaving sighs, evince the grief that dwells within. I have frequent interviews with her; but I fear her convictions are merely legal. She feels no opposition to God and the peculiar doctrines of the gospel; has but little, if any, view of the horrid nature of sin, and the desperate wickedness of her heart; but feels that her soui is precious, that it is her duty to love and serve God, and be a Christian I always endeavor to represent, as forcibly as possible, her awful state by nature, her exposedness to the wrath of God, her aggravated guilt, the importance of immediate repentance, and application to the blood of Christ, the realities of the invisible world, &c. Some, I suppose, would be for healing the sore. But is it not