and the horrid idea of standing at the bar of God, overcame me, till I wished I never had been born. I can truly say that I envied the brute creation; begged of God to annihilate me; my heart rose in awful rebellion against him in all his dealing. Often have I said, in the language of Dr. _Watts’s_ Songs for Children, And must the crimes that I have done Be read and publish’d there; Be all expos’d before the Sun, While men and angels hear! Lord! at thy feet asham’d I lie— Upward I dare not look; Pardon my sins before I die, And blot them from thy book. These words exactly suited my case; in these things I have, and do feel my native weakness—in keeping the Law, in pleasing God with human performances, in pacifying conscience with mere vows, in conquering sin, in my own strength, and in keeping up my own animal spirits, under desertion, darkness, guilt, and trouble. O! what a mercy it is to have a burden-bearer! if it was not for this I must sink! and what a privilege to be taught how to cast our burthen on him who careth for us. Under the conviction of our native weakness, the character of Jesus, as the strength of our hearts, is exceeding precious; while we daily learn by constant experience, that as fallen sinners we are weak as we are wicked; the blessed Spirit convincing us of this, always produces the next name, KENAN, _Mourning_. This generally stands connected with deep-rooted spiritual convictions of our state, as fallen, depraved, guilty, and helpless. We mourn on various accounts; sometimes because of our depravity, our guilt, and weakness; that do what we can, we are no better—still God is angry with us; the rebellion we feel, which must be God-provoking. We are grieved we ever sinned against him, because it has exposed us to his wrath. All this mourning comes from a legal spirit; but there is a godly mourning, or a mourning after God—this comes from every sweet view we have of Jesus, as held forth in the Gospel; as the Saviour, Surety, Righteousness, and atoning Sacrifice—the soul is following after him—we want the happy enjoyment of him in our souls. With pleasure we listen to the Gospel, which exhibits his charms; the soul is filled with longing desires after him—a moving in the mind towards him—a venturing near to him—a longing for the day of his espousals—to read its part and lot in him. I am sure that the above was my case; I ran to the house of God, in hopes that every sermon I was going to hear, would be the time, and O how grieved was I when I had to return, and my beloved had not appeared in the way and manner I expected him. I find through all my pilgrimage, that the Lord always works in his own time and way. This, however, was mourning after him; this is certainly some small proof of love. Sometimes I longed to see my part and lot in him, from a principle of fear; sometimes from a principle of love, the going out of affection to him; hearing so much of him, and