I thank you for your letter. I am always glad to hear how my dear friends go on in the divine life; and if they are not increasing sensibly in faith, hope, and love, yet, if growing downward in humility it is still well. What we are in our fallen state, as sinners, must be learned by us—this is all the hell we shall ever experience in this world, and some have found _that_ to be quite hell enough. Under this painful chastening, Jonah cried out of the belly of hell.—The Psalmist declared God had laid him in the lowest deeps. Jeremiah wished he had never been born—and Job cursed his day!—and all their painful agonies of soul was nothing to be compared to the painful soul-distress which the Lord Jesus felt, when he entered the garden of Gethsemane, and his vast mind was filled with horrors, terrors, and frights—the guilt of sin sunk his spirits, the wrath of God melted his heart—and his agonies were inconceivable.—Oh! what did our Christ endure for some hours, yea, from nine o’clock at night till three the next afternoon: it will never be forgotten by him—his whole mind was taken up with it; every thing else was forgotten.—Sin and wrath, guilt and distress followed on him—wave upon wave, till he expired. And the very posture in which he hung as he died was very important. See his dear arms stretched out to receive you and me. See his dear feet waiting, fastened to the cross, to confer his blessing. See his side wide opened, to shew his heart to us—and see him bow his dear dying head, to kiss the poor returning soul, who is waiting at the foot of the cross till Jesus assures the soul of its interest in him. Here, I hope, my much esteemed friend is waiting. Here he is safe.