I THANK you, my love, for writing to me, and rejoice that you are happy: God never fails to hear those that call upon him, and is gracious above all that we can either ask or think. As to my illness, it is extremely troublesome, but I believe not dangerous: and I must continue to bear it for a good while longer, without attempting to remove it, because my apothecary himself knows not what to make of it: *however, I am just as I ought to be; I delight to do and to suffer the will of God, and his mercies are sweet to my soul. I am in that happy state of resignation, that I have not a wish, but for an increase of grace and holiness. Sunday my soul longed after the sacrament, and the tears came in my eyes, because I could not go to church. But are the flowing streams of redeeming love confined to place or time? I found indeed they were not; for my soul was at home sweetly replenished with every blessing I could have hoped for at the altar. How much are those to be pitied who know not the love of God! How much are those to be pitied who set their hearts on any thing in this infant-state of existence! How poor, how low, how trifling is every thing, that does not look towards eternity! I have such an experimental sense of the nothingness of all worldly things, that they seem no more to me than dancing puppets; and I am sometimes ready to affront my brother and Mr. ****, by smiling at the important air with which they talk of their _business_, as they call it.――I think there is very little probability that I shall be fit to come to the wedding. Pray God keep your sister’s heart in this time of danger and distraction, and bless you both with the blessings of his children. **** _January 7, 1755._ * * * * * To the Rev. Mr. ****. _Reverend Sir_,