I have enclosed a copy of a new edition of _Alleine’s Alarm_, published by Mr. Gilpin. It was this book, to which, under God, I feel indebted for the determination which some years ago I received, with respect to my views and conduct. I love it greatly in its old and less inviting garb, but far better now. Ah, my dear sister, many profess religion, many enjoy some of its comforts, feel pleasure in an attendance upon its institutions and its ordinances; but, to walk closely with God, to get a deep and thorough knowledge both of him and of our own souls, to penetrate beneath the surface of religion and to forward the life—the inward life of God in the soul, something more is required. In order to this, our eye must be kept constantly directed to one and the same point; we must learn that one thing is supereminently needful, and that everything which stands in competition with it must be considered as dung and as dross. May God in mercy impart to both of us such clear, such vivid and luminous views of its importance, that the present world and all its gaudy trifles may be lessened in our estimation, and that true and vital godliness, deep and genuine spirituality, may become more and more the objects of our pursuits. We were yesterday with dear Mrs. Fletcher, and received, as usual, much profit from her choice, savoury, and spiritual remarks. The book, which lay open before her, was her Bible. I could not help thinking how much more efficaciously we should all of us proceed, both as ministers and private Christians, if this blessed book were more frequently and more seriously perused. There is a strange feeling with respect to it existing in the minds of most persons who may be considered as even pious characters. They would not feel happy if they suffered the day to pass over without reading their chapter or chapters, but still they do it as a duty, merely as a duty. How rarely is it taken up as a privilege, as the book of books, as the very choicest treasure which we could possibly open; and yet, unless it be thus resorted to, thus feelingly read and studied, how can we expect to be great proficients in the Divine Life—how can we drink deep into the Spirit of our God? Could we see into the manner in which many individuals perform the duties of their closet, we should not be much at a loss to discover the reason of their want of spirituality. It might all be easily and naturally traced to this one single source—their hour thus set apart is gone through in a manner not very dissimilar to a horse in a mill; they go round and round with the same lifeless formality; and when their duty is over, they pass with unaltered uninfluenced feelings to anything which may next engage their attention; but how different from those who walk in their solitude with God; who go to their closets as if they were about to meet the very best friend they have upon earth; who feel heavenly emotions on every such occasion rekindled; whose hearts are