I have often intended to call on you, and talk of these sweet things, because you wished me so to do, and because God had given to your mind an humble desire to know Christ, and be found in him. But a continued scene of bustle all day, and too frequently in company with my enemies, which I now deeply lament. This hindered me; and sometimes, at night, I was weary _in_, though not _with_ my work, that I needed rest, so then Satan stopt me; but I shall be happy to talk with you now by letter, and perhaps it will be much better than our conversation might have been, because you can read another time what you might not have remembered in talk. I hope never to grow weary of reminding my dear friends of that one thing that is truly needful, the experimental knowledge of Christ. The tidings of the Gospel are very simple, being only a declaration that God the Father, Son, and Spirit, as the God of love, purposed to glorify each other; in the everlasting happiness of a number that no man can number—and methinks I hear you say, I would give ten thousand worlds, at times, to know if I am among that number. The Lord, I hope, will make that clear to you soon. Each adorable person in the Trinity, agreed to take names, suited to the offices they would sustain in the business of our salvation. One adorable person condescended to take the name of Father—the dearest, the most familiar, the sweetest name—and as he appeared in that character, he called forth the second adorable person, as Mediator; and after proposing to him another nature, besides his God-head, he became the elect head of all his dear family, who appeared in his mind, just as they will be in the resurrection—truly glorious. I hope Mrs. HUTCHINGS was seen among the brilliant throng. But for the greater displays of grace, God permitted this happy number to fall into sin, with all the dreadful consequences that should attend such a fall. Upon the fore-sight of this, the dear Son of God was called, and he graciously consented to come down into this world, to stand in our stead, to take our place, to obey the law which we had broken, and which obedience of his, was to be reckoned ours. Yes my dear friend, this text has often gladdened my heart. “But to us it shall be imputed, who believe in him.” O what a comfort, our dear Lord not only obeyed the Law, but he endured the penalty of it, which was all that was implied in the “_Curse of God_.” But dear Lord, what did _that_ imply; no heart can conceive, no tongue can ever describe it—his heart melted like wax, his dear knees trembled, his spirit was filled with anguish, and his whole soul felt the pangs of the damned—the sufferings of his dear, his sacred body were dreadful, but the sufferings of his soul, were the very soul of his sufferings. O what must sin be—may we see it as a most dreadful evil, and those who make a mock at sin mock the Saviour’s bitter anguish. He died, but in dying he satisfied the justice of God, and the Father has