doctrines he maintains are, under the influence of I think Marshal one of the best writers, and the the spirit of Christ, the very life of my soul, and most spiritual expositor of Scripture, I ever read. the soul of all my happiness: that Jesus is a pre- I admire the strength of his argument, and the sent Saviour from the guilt of sin by his most pre-clearness of his reasonings, upon those parts of our cious blood, and from the power of it by his spirit; most holy religion which are generally least underthat, corrupt and wretched in ourselves, in him, stood, even by real christians, as masterpieces of and in him only, we are complete; that being the kind. His section upon the union of the soul united to Jesus by a lively faith, we have a solid with Christ is an instance of what I mean, in and eternal interest in his obedience and sufferings, which he has spoken of a most mysterious truth to justify us before the face of our heavenly Father; with admirable perspicuity, and with great good and that all this inestimable treasure, the earnest sense, making it all the while subservient to his of which is in grace, and its consummation in glo- main purport of proving holiness to be the fruit and ry, is given, freely given to us of God; in short, effect of faith. that he hath opened the kingdom of Heaven to all believers. These are the truths which, by the grace of God, shall ever be dearer to me than life itself; shall ever be placed next my heart, as the throne whereon the Saviour himself shall sit, to sway all its motions, and reduce that world of iniquity and rebellion to a state of filial and affectionate obedience to the will of the most Holy. These, my dear cousin, are the truths, to which by nature we are enemies-they debase the sinner,| and exalt the Saviour, to a degree which the pride of our hearts (till Almighty grace subdues them) is determined never to allow. May the Almighty reveal his Son in our hearts continually more and more, and teach us to increase in love towards him continually, for having given us the unspeakable riches of Christ! Yours faithfully, W. C. TO MRS. COWPER. I subjoin thus much upon that author, because, though you desired my opinion of him, I remember that in my last I rather left you to find it out by inference, than expressed it as I ought to have done. I never met with a man who understood the plan of salvation better, or was more happy in explaining it. W. C. TO MRS. COWPER. MY DEAR COUSIN, with your kind reception of him, and with every You sent my friend Unwin home to us charmed thing he saw at the Park. Shall I once more give you a peep into my vile and deceitful heart? What motive do you think lay at the bottom of my conduct when I desired him to call upon you? I did not suspect at first that pride and vain glory had any share in it; but quickly after I had recommended the visit to him, I discovered in that fruitMarch 14, 1767. I JUST add a line by way of Postscript to my am a stranger here; all such are suspected characful soil the very root of the matter. You know I last, to apprise you of the arrival of a very dear ters, unless they bring their credentials with them. friend of mine at the Park on Friday next, the son To this moment, I believe, it is matter of speculaof Mr. Unwin, whom I have desired to call on tion in the place, whence I came, and to whom I you, in his way from London to Huntingdon. If belong. you knew him as well as I do, you would love him MY DEAR COUSIN, Though my friend, you may suppose, before I as much. But I leave the young man to speak for was admitted an inmate here, was satisfied that I himself, which he is very able to do. He is ready was not a mere vagabond, and has since that time possessed of an answer to every question you can received more convincing proofs of my sponsibility, possibly ask concerning me, and knows my whole yet I could not resist the opportunity of furnishing story from first to last. I give you this previous him with ocular demonstration of it, by introducing notice, because I know you are not fond of strange faces, and because I thought it would in some degree save him the pain of announcing himself. him to one of my most splendid connexions; that when he hears me called "That fellow Cowper," which has happened heretofore, he may be able, I am become a great florist, and shrub doctor. upon unquestionable evidence, to assert my genIf the major can make up a small packet of seeds tlemanhood, and relieve me from the weight of that that will make a figure in a garden, where we opprobrious appellation. Oh pride! pride! it dehave little else besides jessamine and honey-suckle; ceives with the subtlety of a serpent, and seems to such a packet I mean as may be put in one's fob, walk erect, though it crawls upon the earth. How I will promise to take great care of them, as I will it twist and twine itself about, to get from ought to value natives of the Park. They must under the cross, which it is the glory of our Chrisnot be such however as require great skill in the tian calling to be able to bear with patience and management, for at present I have no skill to good will. They who can guess at the heart of a stranger, and you especially, who are of a com spare. DEAR JOE, TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. W. C. Huntingdon, July 16, 1767. passionate temper, will be more ready, perhaps, to to assist us with his inquiries. It is probable we excuse me, in this instance, than I can be to ex-shall stay here till Michaelmas. cuse myself. But in good truth, it was abominable pride of heart, indignation, and vanity, and deserves no better name. How should such a creature be admitted into those pure and sinless mansions, where nothing shall enter that defileth, did not the blood of Christ, applied by the hand of faith, take away the guilt of sin, and leave no YOUR wishes that the newspapers may have spot or stain benind it? Oh what continual need misinformed you are vain. Mr. Unwin is dead, have I of an almighty, all-sufficient Saviour! I and died in the manner there mentioned. At nine am glad you are acquainted so particularly with o'clock on Sunday morning he was in perfect all the circumstances of my story, for I know that health, and as likely to live twenty years as either your secrecy and discretion may be trusted with of us, and before ten was stretched speechless and any thing. A thread of mercy ran through all senseless upon a flock bed, in a poor cottage, where the intricate maze of those afflictive providences, (it being impossible to remove him) he died on so mysterious to myself at the time, and which Thursday evening. I heard his dying groans, must ever remain so to all, who will not see what the effect of great agony, for he was a strong man, was the great design of them; at the judgment- and much convulsed in his last moments. The seat of Christ the whole shall be laid open. How few short intervals of sense that were indulged him is the rod of iron changed into a sceptre of love! he spent in earnest prayer, and in expressions of a I thank you for the seeds: I have committed firm trust and confidence in the only Saviour. T some of each sort to the ground, whence they will that strong hold we must all resort at last, if w« soon spring up like so many mementos to remind would have hope in our death: when every other me of my friends at the Park. W. C. refuge fails, we are glad to fly to the only shelter, to which we can repair to any purpose; and happy is it for us when, the false ground we have chosen for ourselves being broken under us, we find ourselves obliged to have recourse to the rock which can never be shaken; when this is our lot, we receive great and undeserved mercy. TO MRS. COWPER. Huntingdon, July 13, 1767. Our society will not break up, but we shall settle in some other place; where, is at present uncertain.* Yours, W. C. TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. MY DEAR COUSIN, THE newspaper has told you the truth. Poor Mr. Urwin being flung from his horse, as he was going to his church on Sunday morning, received a dreadful fracture on the back part of the scull, under which he languished till Thursday evening, and then died. This awful dispensation has left an impression upon our spirits, which will not presently be worn off. He died in a poor cottage, to which he was carried immediately after his fall, I THANK you for so full an answer to so empty about a mile from home; and his body could not an epistle. If Olney furnished any thing for your be brought to his house, till the spirit was gone to amusement, you should have it in return; but him who gave it. May it be a lesson to us to occurrences here are as scarce as cucumbers at watch, since we know not the day nor the hour Christmas. when our Lord cometh! DEAR JOE, Olney, June 16, 1768. I visited St. Alban's about a fortnight since in The effect of it upon my circumstances will person, and I visit it every day in thought. The only be a change of the place of my abode. For I recollection of what passed there, and the conse. shall still, by God's leave, continue with Mrs. quences that followed it, fill my mind continuUnwin, whose behaviour to me has always been ally, and make the circumstances of a poor tranthat of a mother to a son. We know not yet sient half-spent life so insipid and unaffecting, where we shall settle, but we trust that the Lord, that I have no heart to think or write much about whom we seek, will go before us, and prepare a them. Whether the nation is worshipping Mr. rest for us. We have employed our friend Haweis, Wilkes or any other idol, is of little moment to Dr. Conyers of Helmsley in Yorkshire, and Mr. one who hopes and believes that he shall shortly Newton of Olney, to look out a place for us, but at present are entirely ignorant under which of the On the fourteenth of October following, the Society was three we shall settle, or whether under either. I settled in the town of Olney in Buckinghamshire, of which have written to my aunt Madan, to desire Martin the Rev. Mr. Newton was curate, DEAR JOE, Affectionately yours, TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. W. C. 1769. stand in the presence of the great and blessed God. | Happy are you, my dear friend, in being able to I thank him that he has given me such a deep discern the insufficiency of all it can afford to fill impressed persuasion of this awful truth, as a and satisfy the desires of an immortal soul. That thousand worlds would not purchase from me. It God who created us for the enjoyment of himself, gives a relish to every blessing, and makes every has determined in mercy that it shall fail us here, trouble light. in order that the blessed result of all our inquiries after happiness in the creature may be a warm pursuit and a close attachment to our true interests, in fellowship and communion with Him, through the name and mediation of a dear Redeemer. I bless his goodness and grace, that I SIR Thomas crosses the Alps, and Sir Cowper, in the desire after better things, than are to be have any reason to hope I am a partaker with you for that is his title at Olney, prefers his home to any other spot of earth in the world. Horace, devoted to destruction. May he enable us both found in a world polluted with sin, and therefore observing this difference of temper in different persons, cried out a good many years ago, in the to consider our present life in its only true light, true spirit of poetry, how much one man differs as an opportunity put into our hands to glorify from another!' This does not seem a very sublime him amongst men, by a conduct suited to his word exclamation in English, but I remember we were and blessed art, but I hope there is at the bottom and will. I am miserably defective in this holy taught to admire it in the original. just so long as I may be enabled, in some poor of all my sinful infirmities a sincere desire to live measure, to answer the end of my existence in this respect, and then to obey the summons, and attend him in a world where they who are his My dear friend, I am obliged to you for your invitation: but being long accustomed to retirement, which I was always fond of, I am now more than ever unwilling to revisit those noisy and crowded scenes which I never loved, and which I now abhor. I remember you with all the friend-servants here shall pay him an unsinful obedience ship I ever professed, which is as much as I ever entertained for any man. But the strange and uncommon incidents of my life have given an entire new turn to my whole character and conduct, and rendered me incapable of receiving pleasure from the same employments and amusements of which I could readily partake in former days. I love you and yours, I thank you for your continued remembrance of me, and shall not cease to be their and your Affectionate friend and servant, W. C. for ever. Your dear mother is too good to me, and puts a more charitable construction upon my si lence than the fact will warrant. I am not better employed than I should be in corresponding with her. I have that within which hinders me wretchedly in every thing that I ought to do, but is prone to trifle, and let time and every good thing run to waste. I hope however to write to her soon. My love and best wishes attend Mr. Cowper, and all that inquire after me. May God be with you, to bless you, and do you good by all his dispensations; don't forget me when you are speaking to our best friend before his Mercy-seat. Yours ever, W. C. N. B. I am not married. TO MRS. COWPER. MY DEAR COUSIN, TO MRS. COWPER. I HAVE not been behindhand in reproaching myself with neglect, but desire to take shame to myself for my unprofitableness in this, as well as in all other respects. I take the next immediate MY DEAR COUSIN, Olney, August 31, 1769. opportunity however of thanking you for yours, A LETTER from your brother Frederic brought and of assuring you, that instead of being sur-me yesterday the most afflicting intelligence that prised at your silence, I rather wonder that you, has reached me these many years. I pray to God or any of my friends, have any room left for so to comfort you, and to enable you to sustain this careless and negligent a correspondent in your heavy stroke with that resignation to his will, memories. I am obliged to you for the intelligence which none but himself can give, and which he you send me of my kindred, and rejoice to hear gives to none but his own children. How blessed of their welfare. He who settles the bounds of and happy is your lot, my dear friend, beyond the our habitations has at length cast our lot at a common lot of the greater part of mankind; that great distance from each other; but I do not there- you know what it is to draw near to God in prayer, fore forget their former kindness to me, or cease and are acquainted with a Throne of Grace! You to be interested in their well being. You live in have resources in the infinite love of a dear Rethe centre of a world I know yon do not delight in. | deemer, which are withheld from millions: and Yours ever, W. C. TO THE REV. J. NEWTON. the promises of God, which are yea and amen in threatening, by the only physician of value. I Jesus, are sufficient to answer all your necessities, doubt not he will have an interest in your prayers, and to sweeten the bitterest cup which your hea- as he has in the prayers of many. May the Lord venly Father will ever put into your hand. May incline his ear, and give an answer of peace! I he now give you liberty to drink at these wells of know it is good to be afflicted. I trust that you have salvation, till you are filled with consolation and found it so, and that under the teaching of God's peace in the midst of trouble! He has said, when own spirit we shall both be purified. It is the dethou passest through the fire I will be with thee, sire of my soul to seek a better country, where and when through the floods, they shall not over- God shall wipe away all tears from the eyes of his flow thee. You have need of such a word as this, people: and where, looking back upon the ways and he knows your need of it, and the time of ne- by which he has led us, we shall be filled with cessity is the time when he will be sure to appear everlasting wonder, love, and praise. I must add in behalf of those who trust in him. I bear you no more. and yours upon my heart before him night and day, for I never expect to hear of distress which shall call upon me with a louder voice to pray for the sufferer. I know the Lord hears me for myself, vile and sinful as I am, and believe and am MY DEAR FRIEND, sure that he will hear me for you also. He is the I AM glad that the Lord made you a fellow friend of the widow, and the father of the father-labourer with us in praying my dear brother out less, even God in his holy habitation; in all our of darkness into light. It was a blessed work: afflictions he is afflicted, and chastens us in mercy. and when it shall be your turn to die in the Lord, Surely he will sanctify this dispensation to you, and to rest from all your labours, that work shall do you great and everlasting good by it, make the follow you. I once entertained hopes of his reworld appear like dust and vanity in your sight, covery: from the moment when it pleased God to as it truly is, and open to your view the glories of give him light in his soul, there was for four days a better country, where there shall be no more such a visible amendment in his body as surprised death, neither sorrow nor pain, but God shall wipe away all tears from your eyes forever. O that comfortable word! 'I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction;' so that our very sorrows are evidences of our calling, and he chastens us, because we are his children. us all. March 31, 1770. Dr. Glynn himself was puzzled, and began to think that all his threatening conjectures would fail of their accomplishment. I am well satisfied that it was thus ordered, not for his own sake, but for the sake of us, who had been so deeply concerned for his spiritual welfare, that he My dear cousin, I commit you to the word of his might be able to give such evident proof of the grace, and to the comforts of his holy spirit. Your work of God upon his soul as should leave no life is needful for your family; may God in mercy doubt behind it. As to his friends at Cambridge, to them prolong it, and may he preserve you from they knew nothing of the matter. He never spoke the dangerous effects, which a stroke like this of these things but to myself, nor to me, when might have upon a frame so tender as yours. I others were within hearing, except that he somegrieve with you, I pray for you; could 1 do more, times would speak in the presence of the nurse. I would, but God must comfort you. Yours, in our dear Lord Jesus, TO MRS. COWPER. W. C. March 5, 1770. He knew well to make the distinction between those who could understand him, and those who could not; and that he was not in circumstances to maintain such a controversy as a declaration of his new views and sentiments would have exposed him to. Just after his death I spoke of this change to a dear friend of his, a fellow of the college, who My brother continues much as he was. His had attended him through all his sickness with ascase is a very dangerous one. An imposthume siduity and tenderness. But he did not underof the liver, attended by an asthma and dropsy. stand me. The physician has little hope of his recovery. I I now proceed to mention such particulars as I believe I might say none at all; only being a friend can recollect, and which I had not opportunity to he does not formally give him over, by ceasing to insert in my letters to Olney; for I left Cambridge visit him, lest it should sink his spirits. For my suddenly, and sooner than I expected. He was own part I have no expectation of his recovery, deeply impressed with a sense of the difficulties except by a signal interposition of Providence in he should have to encounter, if it should please answer to prayer. His case is clearly out of the God to raise him again. He saw the necessity of reach of medicine; but I have seen many a sick- being faithful, and the opposition he should expose ness healed, where the danger has been equally himself to by being so. Under the weight of TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. May 8, 1770. I am obliged to you for the particular account you have sent me **** these thoughts he one day broke out in the follow-| ing prayer, when only myself was with him, 'O Lord, thou art light; and in thee is no darkness at all. Thou art the fountain of all wisdom, and DEAR JOE, it is essential to thee to be good and gracious. I Your letter did not reach me till the last post, am a child, O Lord, teach me how I shall con- when I had not time to answer it. I left Camduct myself! Give me the wisdom of the serpent bridge immediately after my brother's death. with the harmlessness of the dove! Bless the souls thou hast committed to the care of thy helpless miserable creature, who has no wisdom or know- He to whom I have surrendered myself and all ledge of his own, and make me faithful to them for my concerns hath otherwise appointed, and let his thy mercy's sake!' Another time he said, 'How will be done. He gives me much which he withwonderful it is, that God should look upon man; holds from others; and if he was pleased to withand how much more wonderful, that he should look hold all that makes an outward difference between upon such a worm as I am! Yet he does look me and the poor mendicant in the street, it would upon me, and takes the exactest notice of all my still become me to say, his will be done. sufferings. He is present and I see him (I mean It pleased God to cut short my brother's conby faith); and he stretches out his arms towards nexions and expectations here, yet not without me' and he then stretched out his own-and giving him lively and glorious views of a better he says Come unto me, all ye that are weary happiness than any he could propose to himself in and heavy laden, and I will give you rest!' He such a world as this. Notwithstanding his great smiled and wept, when he spoke these words. learning, (for he was one of the chief men in the When he expressed himself upon these sub- university in that respect) he was candid and sinjects, there was a weight and a dignity in his cere in his inquiries after truth. Though he could manner such as I never saw before. He spoke not come into my sentiments when I first acwith the greatest deliberation, making a pause at quainted him with them, nor in the many converthe end of every sentence; and there was some-sations which I afterwards had with him upon thing in his air and in the tone of his voice, inex- the subject, could he be brought to acquiesce in pressibly solemn, unlike himself, unlike what I them as scriptural and true, yet I had no sooner had ever seen in another. left St. Alban's than he began to study with the This hath God wrought. I have praised him deepest attention those points in which we differed, for his marvellous act, and have felt a joy of heart and to furnish himself with the best writers upon upon the subject of my brother's death, such as I them. His mind was kept open to conviction for never felt but in my own conversion. He is now five years, during all which time he laboured in before the throne; and yet a little while and we this pursuit with unwearied diligence, as leisure shall meet, never more to be divided. and opportunity were afforded. Amongst his dy Yours, my very dear friend, with my affection- ing words were these, 'Brother, I thought you ate respects to yourself and yours. WILLIAM COWPER. wrong, yet wanted to believe as you did. I found myself not able to believe, yet always thought I should be one day brought to do so.' From the Postscript. A day or two before his death he study of books, he was brought upon his deathgrew so weak and was so very ill, that he required bed to the study of himself, and there learnt to continual attendance, so that he had neither renounce his righteousness, and his own most strength nor opportunity to say much to me. On- amiable character, and to submit himself to the ly the day before he said he had a sleepless, but a righteousness which is of God by faith. With composed and quiet night. I asked him, if he these views he was desirous of death. Satisfied of had been able to collect his thoughts. He re-his interest in the blessing purchased by the blood plied, 'All night long I have endeavoured to of Christ, he prayed for death with earnestness, think upon God and to continue in prayer. I had felt the approaches of it with joy, and died in great peace and comfort; and what comfort I had peace. Yours, my dear friend, W. C. came in that way.' When I saw him the next morning at seven o'clock he was dying, fast asleep, and exempted, in all appearance, from the sense of those pangs which accompany dissolution. I TO MRS. COWPER. shall be glad to hear from you, my dear friend, MY DEAR COUSIN, Olney, June 7, 1770. I AM am obliged to you for sometimes thinking of an unseen friend, and bestowing a letter upon May God seal the in- me. It gives me pleasure to hear from you, especially to find that our gracious Lord enables |