esteem). This work is a mystery at times, even to the real possessor; in fact, all he is, all he knows, all he feels, and all he meets with is very mysterious to him; he is a complete paradox to himself and all others—he is a riddle. This reminds me of what the excellent Erskine says in his “Gospel Sonnets,” to which I must refer you, but cannot pass by a few verses without transcribing them from his riddle. To works, but not to working dead, From sin, but not from sinning freed; I clear myself from no offence, Yet wash my hands in innocence; I’m still at ease, and still opprest, Have constant troubles, constant rest, Both clear and cloudy, free and bound, Both dead and living, lost and found. My inward foes, that me alarm, Breed me much hurt, yet little harm; I get no good by them, yet see, To my chief good they make me flee; I’m innocent, yet guilty still, I sin against, and with my will. Though fain I’d be the greatest saint, To be the least I’d be content; Down like a stone I sink and dive, Yet daily upward soar and thrive; To heaven I fly, to earth I tend, Still better grow, yet never mend; Mine enemies that seek my hurt, Of all their bad designs come short; They serve me duly to my mind, With favours that they ne’er design’d: The fury of my foes makes me, Fast to my peaceful refuge flee, And every persecuting elf, Does make me understand myself; Their slanders cannot work my shame, Their vile reproaches raise my name: In peace with heaven, my soul can dwell, E’en when they damn me down to hell. I could quote a great deal more, but must request you to read the work itself and you will find a scriptural description of the mystery of the saint’s life, warfare and state; and while you are at times perplexed about yourself, may you be led to enjoy the clear witness of the Holy Spirit in your soul, this will comfort you in life, cheer you in death, and let this be our daily prayer. Witness _in_ us, _by_ us, _for_ us, With thine agency divine, Nor in that great day deny us, When the saints in glory shine; Then bear witness Of our souls, that they are thine.—Amen. Yours, J. C. * * * * *