Again. I resolve every day to be perfectly easy under every little mortification I may meet in the common occurrences of life. How weak (I cry) is it to be affected by the folly or ill-nature of the world! Why should I regard the sneers of people, whose low sentiments are only deserving pity? Can the unreasonable, and unjust notions of another, rob me of any real merit? Can an envious, a malicious, or a detracting speech, do me any material injury, unless I give it force myself, by my impatience and want of temper? No certainly: nothing from without can hurt me, but by my own fault. A mind fortified with religion, is proof against the darts of senseless tattle, or ill-natured wit. Firm and collected within itself, it smiles superior, and looks down on the ignorant and the malicious with pity.――These reflections are just; and Oh that I could reduce them into practice! But here I miserably fail. *After my soul has plumed herself with these fine notions, and is ready to pronounce herself equal to every trial, she sinks in the most shameful manner. A word, a look, nay the very appearance of a slight, throws me into the greatest uneasiness and confusion; and though I can govern my temper enough to hide it from the world, my heart is ready to burst with indignation. Strange weakness!――But why do I call it strange? Am I not too well acquainted with the fatal cause of this, and almost every sin I am guilty of? ’Tis vanity, that intolerable vanity, which mixes itself with all I act, or speak, or think. When I look strictly into my deceitful and wicked heart, I find it so full of this abominable vice, that I regard myself with horror and amazement; and yet perhaps the next moment, indulge in airy schemes and self-complacency. Sure there is not in the whole universe, so vain and sinful a wretch as I am! What can I hope for? What can I expect? Will not eternal rejection from the presence of God be justly my portion? Oh, thought of unutterable horror! My God! My only hope! Can I think of being for ever cast out from the light of thy countenance, and live? Why does not the dreadful idea at once put an end to my being? All the torments of damnation are summed up in these shocking words――Eternal rejection from thy presence!――Oh gracious and adorable being! let me not be thus beyond imagination cursed. In the name of my blessed Saviour, I implore thy pity! Oh look with compassion on a soul which pants for grace and forgiveness! A soul sensible of her weak and ♦polluted state, and entirely relying on thy mercy. O speak peace to this troubled sea, and all shall be calm! Give me strength to resist those temptations I so often sink under! But above all, change this wicked and deceitful heart, and give me a new heart and a new spirit. Mortify in me all proud thoughts and vain opinions of myself, and let not the blessings thou hast bestowed upon me increase my condemnation, by being made motives for pride and vainglory. Hear and grant my