“You mention a letter enclosed, but none came. The intelligence, however, intended to be conveyed by it, met my delighted eyes. Thomason is coming! This is good. Praise be to the Lord of the harvest, for sending out labourers! Behold how the prayers of the society at Calcutta have been heard. I hope they will continue their supplication; for we want more yet, and it may please God yet further to bless us. You cannot leave Calcutta by the middle of November, and must therefore apply for one month’s extension of leave. But you are unwilling to leave your flock; and I do not wonder, as I have seen my sheep grievously dispersed during my absence. Uncertain when I may come amongst them, they seldom come at all, except the ten or twelve who meet one another. My morning congregation increases as the cold weather advances, and yesterday there seemed to be a considerable impression. I spoke in a low tone of voice, and therefore, did not feel much fatigue;—after the Hindoostanee service I was very weak; but at night tolerably strong again. On the whole, my expectations of life return. May the days thus prolonged be entirely His who continues them! and may my work not only move on delightfully, but with a more devout and serious spirit!” “Your letter from Buxar found me in much the same spiritual state, as you describe yourself to be in: though your description, no doubt, belongs more properly to me. I no longer hesitate to ascribe my stupor and formality, to its right cause: unwatchfulness in worldly company. I thought that any temptation arising from the society of the people of the world, at least of such as we have had, was not worthy of notice: but I find myself mistaken. The frequent occasions of being among them of late, have proved a snare to my corrupt heart. Instead of returning with a more elastic spring to severe duties, as I expected, my heart wants more idleness, more dissipation. David Brainerd in the wilderness,—what a contrast to Henry Martyn! But God be thanked that a start now and then interrupts the slumber. I hope to be up and about my Master’s business; to cast off the works of darkness, and to be spiritually-minded, which alone is life and peace. But what a dangerous country it is that we are in; hot weather or cold, all is softness and luxury; all a conspiracy to lull us to sleep in the lap of pleasure. While we pass over this enchanted ground, call, brother, ever and anon, and ask ‘is all well?’ We are shepherds keeping watch over our flocks by night: if we fall asleep what is to become of them!”