I THINK you are now through divine grace, strong enough to bear what I am going to say to you, that I have long seen a mixture of pride and vanity even in the best of your performances. But I could hardly allow myself to believe it. What! have I often said, shall I judge so of her, whom every body admires for her surprising modesty and humility? Is it not because she is more excellent than myself, and therefore I am seeking to find some fault in her? Then I have often prayed to God, not to suffer my soul to be deceived by any sinister views, and to perfect in you what was wanting. And this I trust he will do for us both, if we keep the longing eye of our souls steadily fixed upon him. Oh for holiness of heart! Let us labour, my dear companion, for holiness, as a dying sinner labours for life. I had yesterday a most delightful letter from Mr. ****. It sent me to my knees so convinced of my black ingratitude to my heavenly Father, that I could neither find words nor thoughts sufficient to express my unworthiness; yet at the same time my heart was full of thanksgiving, under a sense of his unbounded mercies. O help me, my dear friend, to be more and more thankful! Such advantages――dearest Jesus, how justly great must be my condemnation, if I do not make suitable improvements. Take the latter part of Mr. ****’s letter, apply it to yourself constantly, every minute if possible. “You have need therefore to watch and pray always, and then especially when you might seem to have least need. You have reason to fear always: for your enemies are always watching. But you have reason likewise to rejoice always, because he that keepeth you never sleeps.” * * * * * _My dear Friend_, I HAVE read your letter with tears, and earnest prayers to God for you, and for myself. We are both unworthy creatures; indeed, my love, we are _more_ unworthy than we can either express or conceive. O let us fly to the blood of sprinkling. There and there alone can we find help. Thanks be to God, that you have a clear view of your own heart. This is a most profitable prospect, though a most dreadful one. Think me not cruel, when I wish that the holy Spirit may _deeply_ wound your soul with a sense of its corruptions. The deeper the conviction, the firmer the peace that follows. *I hardly know how to believe you, when you tell me you are hurried away by desires after worldly happiness. Is it possible? Alas, my friend, pardon the harshness of the expression, if the love of the world is in your heart, you are only a _painted sepulchre_, beautiful indeed outwardly, but within――――. My dear creature, I cannot bear to think this――a Christian to be hurried away with desires and endeavours after worldly happiness! If St. _Paul_’s character of a Christian is right, how far are you from being a Christian? “Ye are dead,” says he, “and your life is hid with Christ in God.”