strange to say, that, although this be the greatest gift that a God can bestow, yet man is too rich in himself to receive or accept of it as God's will, and have it "without money and without price." No, he cannot, until that same God is pleased to make him poor enough to feel that were a good thought or desire needed from him to procure him the possession of it, he must absolutely perish for the want of that good thought or desire. Nay, further, that he not only can produce no good thing from himself, but is as helpless in preventing the risings and flowings of evil; having to learn, by bitter experience, the Lord's own testimony, that "out of the heart of man proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, blasphemies," and such like; and also that "every imagination of the thoughts of man's heart is only evil, and that continually." Many, my friend, will be ready to acquiesce in the letter of this; but, O to feel it for one's self "cuts deep," as Mr. Hart says, "beyond expression." I have of late seen the force, and felt the truth of a few lines of a hymn of that departed servant of the Lord, Gadsby. He says,

"God's children must not learn

As schoolboys learn their task;
Such knowledge is not proof
Against delusion's blast.

An empty knowledge bloats with air,

But dies when dreadful storms appear."

In that hymn he is led to speak of the way in which the Lord deals with his family, and I am a living witness of the truth of his assertion, "The rod and reproof give wisdom." Yes, the wisdom of knowing one's own fully and wickedness. The Lord leads his people about now for the very same purpose as he did of old, "to humble them, to prove them, and to show them what was in their hearts." Thus, I trust, my dear friend, I may say the Lord has in mercy condescended to deal with me, and not to give me up, as I really thought he would, to a reprobate mind, to work all uncleanness with greediness.

But I want, if I can, to come to the way in which the dear Lord was pleased to bring about this wonderful change in my poor soul; it is indeed so great and wonderful to me that I hardly know sometimes how to give it full credit as being a reality. If any one had asked me, for many years past, whether I was perfectly lost, in my own apprehension, for aught that I could do or say, I should have readily answered, "Yes;" but I now see that all my strength was not gone; there was something yet shut up and left, so shut up too that I could not see it. I had thought and felt thousands of times, from the distress and anguish of my soul, (through a continuation of such horrid blasphemous thoughts as I was almost the subject of,) that I must lie down and die; nay, that I could not and would not live in such a way; it would be better for me to put an end to my life, which I was tempted to do every time I took the razor in my hand. But, O! "Kept by the power of God!" and what less than the power of God can keep a soul in such a furnace as this? This is the furnace to set in a blaze a man's filthy rags, and strip him naked and bare, so that he is "cast out

into the open field to the loathing of his person," and there must wallow and perish in his blood, unless he who is the Life, the very Life, passes by him, and says unto him in his sins and his blood, "Live!" Then live he must and shall.

Now, as well as I am able, and it is brought to my remembrance, I will tell you how this was brought about; but I must confess I feel more liberty in speaking about the dear Lord than myself. However, about three weeks since, after leaving business, and passing through Bishopsgate Street, on my way home, it was brought to my mind, "Why, what an unthankful, ungrateful creature you are." Yes," I was obliged to say, "I am; and what can I do;

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I would not be so if I could help it; but I cannot create gratitude." I thought I felt as I did because I belonged to that class denominated, in God's word, as "unthankful, and to every good work reprobate," and that there was no hope for me. After going on a few steps, the following words came into my mind: "God so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on him, might not perish, but have everlasting life." Well, that word, "whosoever," seemed to dwell upon my mind a little, and yielded a little encouragement; but then it came, "whosoever believeth on him." Ah, thought I, there it is-I can't believe. O if I could believe; but I cannot believe. Then my heart began to cry out as I walked along, "Lord help me to believe; O I would, but I cannot." Such a pleading, wrestling spirit that I had been. so long a stranger to was given, that I did not know what to do, how to give up, without the blessing. When I had proceeded a little further, I remember I said, "Lord, would not thy mercy be magnified in the salvation of such a sinner as I am, as much as thy justice would be glorified in my destruction?" And now a little softness, a little giving way, a little melting of the stone, was felt, when the words of Mr. Hart came into my soul with some degree of sweetness:

"O what is honor, wealth, or mirth,

To this well-grounded peace?
How poor are all the goods of earth
To such a gift as this!""

Ah, I thought, "well-grounded peace, well-grounded peace," the words kept sounding in my soul, love began to kindle, and my feelings were expressed in a line or two of Watts:

"Command my soul away
From all created good."

And so I desired, for just then I had to call at a shop where my dear wife and I had appointed to meet; and sorry I was it was so, as I should perhaps lose the feelings that were so highly prized because so long denied me. However, I find I cannot go through it step by step, how I was taken on until I got into that "river the streams whereof make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacle of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved. God will help her, and that right early. I should be favored to see you again, and the dear Lord is pleased

If

to bless us together with the lifting up the light of his countenance, and also to bring to my remembrance the way in which he was pleased to bring me out of a strait into a broad place, I shall, I trust, rejoice to have my mouth opened to show forth his praise. You know it is written, "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise." I shall, I believe, be glad to hear from you as soon as convenient, and also to learn the state of your dear wife's soul. Tell her I feel, as Mr. Hart says,

"The vilest may have it, it always comes free;
The worthless my crave it, 'twas given to me.
"Sick sinner, expect no balm but Christ's blood;
Thine own works reject, the bad and the good;
None ever miscarry that on him rely,

Though filthy as Mary, Manasseh, or I."

And I would say to her, as I trust it was often whispered into my soul during my long night of trial, although I could not discern the voice of the Lord in it then, but do so now,

"Still wait, for he shall all explain,

Nor shalt thou seek his face in vain."

And now, my dear brother, I wish you the sweet and blessed realisation of all that a covenant God can bestow, and that the dear Lord will be pleased still to hold up your goings in his paths, for all his paths are mercy and truth to such as keep his covenant, and that remember his commandments to do them. I am satisfied that you wish to be more than a hearer of the word; you have been made, as James says, through grace to look by the Spirit into the perfect law of liberty, and wish to continue therein, which favor may the Lord grant you, is the desire and prayer of

Yours in the truth and love of the gospel,

London, Oct. 2, 1854.

R. K.

I know there are some flaming Arminians, who tell us that, "a man may persevere until he comes to die, and yet perish in almost the very article of death;" and they illustrate this wretched, Goddishonouring, and soul-shocking doctrine, by the simile of a ship's foundering in the harbor's mouth. It is very true that some wooden vessels have so perished. But it is no less true, that all God's chosen vessels are infallibly safe from so perishing. For, through his goodness, every one of them is insured by him whom the winds and seas, both literal and metaphorical, obey. And their insurance runs thus: "When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee." "The ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion, with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads." So far are they from foundering within sight of land.-Toplady.

The heat of Nebuchadnezzar's fire was, in the issue, a means of increasing the faith of the three worthies. In this point of view, the very lions Daniel might at first fear, would, in a little time, preach to him the special love and care of Jehovah.-Timothy Priestley.

A LETTER FROM THE LATE J. KEYT.

My dear Friend,-Inclosed you will receive the epistles requested, agreeable to stipulation. Be pleased to accept my sincere thanks for your kind and spiritual letter. I have read it over and over again with attention, and, by divine teaching, not only understand the import of its contents, but have also, in my measure, learned by experience the whole subject-matter of it, both in the heights and the depths.

I have, my beloved friend, tasted, yea, drunk deeply, both of the wormwood and the gall, the milk and the honey-the wine of astonishment and the wine of the kingdom. I have found days of prosperity and days of adversity, both spiritual and temporal, during my long pilgrimage of near threescore years and ten, and to the present period find, to my grief, that the days of darkness are many; nevertheless, the dimness is not such as was in my vexation heretofore, when sitting and walking in the dark valley of the shadow of death; for, through the tender mercy of the Most High, the Day-spring from on high hath visited me, and "unto the upright there ariseth light in the darkness." (Ps. cxii. 4.)

The principal difference between me and my friend appears in my being so dull and stupid a scholar, though my most blessed and gracious Teacher hath in very faithfulness instructed me with many strokes of his chastening rod. Yet such has been the perversity of my stubborn will, such the wanderings of my wayward heart, so bent to backslide, that nothing short of stroke upon stroke has been sufficient to keep me in my proper place to this day. I have felt that "correction is grievous to him that forsaketh the way," and have learned that the rod and reproof, attended with humbling grace, give wisdom.

Under the tuition of the Almighty, I have been instructed and brought to conclude that sanctified afflictions and tribulations are real covenant blessings; and when attended with contrition and godly sorrow, my soul is even as a weaned child; so that I would now choose rather to sit down under such soul-humbling sensations at the Lord's feet than to possess the riches of many wicked, or to be wrapped up in the delusive web of those who have a name to live and are dead. In Rev. iii. 19, I find the love of God and his chastening rod are inseparably united; all, therefore, who are strangers to the experience of the latter are equally strangers to the comforts of the former-bastards, and not sons; and consequently will be excluded from that heavenly inheritance which is laid up for those who are children, and who must pass through fire and water ere they are brought into the wealthy place of everlasting rest.

It appears that you were almost excited to laughter while reading my poor scrap. It is true I fetched a compass in order to insure the return of the papers you requested to see; but believe me when I say that I felt nothing of a light and trifling spirit while writing to you. This being the case, I found no reproof from your kind

caution, but was rather pleased and gratified by that godly jealousy you were exercised with, both over yourself and towards me.

The fleshly joys of a stony-ground hearer or of the stony heart will never find anything to feed upon in the contents of the enclosed epistles. The joy that springs from the manifestations of God's everlasting and pardoning love, flowing in the rich channel of the adorable Redeemer's precious blood, is always attended with soulhumbling effects; and the nearer the Almighty condescends to approach a recipient of his sovereign grace, the deeper that soul sinks in self-abasement and self-loathing: witness, Abraham, when pleading for Sodom; Moses at the burning bush; Joshua before the captain of the Lord's host; Gideon when laying his sacrifice upon the rock; Manoah on a like occasion; Job when the Lord pleaded with him; and Isaiah, Ezekiel, Daniel, with others recorded in the book of truth; and as it was from the beginning, so it is found to this day, and you know it is even so. I am inclined to designate the "wayfaring man who is now on a visit at your house" as an inhabitant, and not a visitor. The new man is a dweller with you, although the Canaanite is still in the land. It is, I conceive, the visitations of the Almighty and most Holy Spirit that enlarge and preserve your soul in its present lively frame. It is only when the heavenly and sacred Spirit blows upon his own plantations, and while the King sitteth at his table, that the spices flow out, and the spikenard sendeth forth its fragrant smell. When there is a suspension of these blessed influences, you may call yourself an "automaton figure," in the opposite and worst sense of the word; yet, even when these sad changes take place, (as they too often do with me,) there is hope in Israel, and a ground for strong consolation; for "I," saith the Lord Jesus Christ, "will see you again, and your hearts shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you." As to temporal adversity," I believe we are equally matched; but all our changes and trials come by divine appointment, and shall eventually work together for our future and everlasting good. A vessel of mercy well ballasted with adversity and tribulation is much safer than one that with outspread sails is floating on the sea of prosperity. We may read the mercy of our God, and learn his holy purposes in thus appointing and mingling our lot, in Deut. viii. 2–5; and there are seasons when I can adopt the language of Judah's afflicted king with application to myself. (Isa. xxxviii. 16–19.)

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I am, in gospel bonds, yours affectionately,

October 17, 1829.

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J. KEYT.

His

Patient submission to God under desertion is sweet. What though I saw no reason why I cry and shout, and God answered not? comforts and his answers are his own free graces. He may do with his own what he thinks good, and grace is no debt. Hear, O Lord, for thy own sake." (Dan. ix. 19.) Infinite sovereignty may lay silence upon all hearts. "What shall I say? He hath both spoken unto me, and himself hath done it." (Isa. xxxviii. 15.) It is an act of heaven; I bear it with silence.-Rutherford.