suggested in favour of my continuing among the Methodists. Oh, my God! Thou knowest that Thou thyself hast given to my soul a desire that, with the strength imparted to me, I might be enabled to strengthen the weak hands, and confirm the feeble knees; but instruments are altogether in Thine own hand! I dare not alter, though convinced of some things inconsistent and wrong in the way of worship I have till now engaged in. But, convinced to the degree I lately have been, I dare not continue in them under pretence of supporting the cause, lest, in so doing, I should act like Uzzah, and draw down Thy displeasure on my head. I have longed that some way might be adopted for sincere Christians to worship together, and to unite together in every labour of love; yet my view of so desirable an union has not been so clear as to enable me to propose any means for its promotion; and, indeed, I lament that, so far as I know, there is in general in every sect a great want of that true spirit and life which alone can make either a union among Christians, or any other secondary act extensively effectual to the good of the church, of ourselves, or of the world.

"While some of these thoughts were passing in my mind, it was thrown into great suspense with regard to leaving the Methodist connexion. My spirit was brought into a state of humiliation before God, for I knew not how to act, or what to do. I became sensible that too much impatience had possessed my mind, and was now constrained to acknowledge my own weakness, ignorance, and blindness. My human reasoning forsook me, or rather was cast off as helpless and insufficient. I could gain no light from conversation with friends of any

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description; and I seemed totally blind as to the next step I should take.

"I am convinced, from painful experience, that neither my judgment, my spirit, nor my practice is perfect; nevertheless I must now act according to the degree of light which I at present receive, and leave events, whatever they may be. I would, however, by all means, avoid seeking a place among the Friends, and afterwards disturbing the peace of any, by declaring doubts which might have been expressed before. If ever I express a wish to join them it will be because I believe them to be the most faithful, as well as the most enlightened, people I know of, and that I am called of God to spend my days among them.

"I find it, I think, more needful than ever I did, to keep my mind constantly awake to a sense of the presence of God. I believe His Spirit is purifying my mind from evil, and bringing me more fully into the possession of the promised inheritance. I thank God for what my soul experiences of his Divine power: His favour is better than life!' My present circumstances, it is true, are rather trying; but the approbation of God is all I seek. Keen reflections are sometimes cast upon me for what the Methodists call deserting the cause for which my husband incessantly laboured, and in which he died. I always did, and I believe I always shall rejoice in the part my husband took in opposing what he was convinced was evil in the Methodist connexion; but I think I should be quite as unjustifiable in refusing to follow the light as it shines, as my husband would have been had he yielded to the influence of men, and desisted from opposing what he believed himself called to op

pose. And I am fully persuaded he was not mistaken when he believed himself called to oppose the corrupt government of the Methodist church.

"I have only to endeavour in simplicity and sincerity of heart, to make the approbation of my heavenly Father the object of my constant attention; and, at the same time, by my life and conversation, to commend myself to every man's conscience in the sight of God.

"If asked why I think more highly of the Friends than of any other church, I answer that genuine truth is more valuable to me than everything else; and it appears to me that the leading feature in the principles and practices of the spiritual among the Friends is sincerity; and that in a more eminent degree than what appears in any other body of professors with which I am acquainted.

"In the school vacation at Midsummer (1800) my dear children and I went to see our relations and friends at Epworth, in Lincolnshire. I suffered on the way from sickness. When we got to my father's, the sight of their clean, comfortable house did me good, with regard to my health; but as I entered, and recollected the place beside their wide chimney where my husband used to sit with his beloved family and friends, I was powerfully affected with the remembrance that the place which knew him once now knows him no more for ever. Everything in this place seemed to remind me of my dear Alexander. He was born, he was nursed, he was brought up here; and the place itself, to me, derives its chief value from the thought of his baving inhabited it. It was here the active, generous dis

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positions of his mind first opened and displayed themselves. His friends delighted in him, and now how they love to talk about him! There seemed something sudden and mysterious in thy death, my beloved friend! my dear husband! But I trust, I believe that thou art risen into greater purity in thy present state of existence than thou couldst have enjoyed in this. I hope one day, when freed from the clogs and fetters of mortality, to meet thy beloved spirit in that happy land where we shall experience a friendship higher and more delightful than can be enjoyed on this side death.

"While at Epworth, I went to the Friends' meeting. As I sat there I felt as an infant whose opening powers experienced all that could at present be conceived of desirable or delightful in being near its parent; but which was incapable of conceiving of the higher beauties and deeper excellencies of its parent's mind, which would, on a future day, inspire it with a reverence, confidence, and love, beyond what it was now qualified to experience.

"One evening, as I was alone in my chamber at Epworth, I opened a book in which I had sometimes put down passages of Scripture which struck me as important truths. My eye was cast on that, For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved.' The words sank into my soul: a light shone on them, of such as I had never before been sensible. Ah! were mankind, especially professors of Christianity, but universally influenced by the same spirit, what a change must soon take place in the world!"

The withdrawing entirely of my dear mother from the Methodist society was hastened through the promptness of some of the influential members of that church. On retiring, she wrote the following letter to the class-leaders' meeting, which is given entire, as it contains a clear and simple statement of her change of sentiment.

"To the Class-leaders' Meeting, Hockly Chapel, Nottingham.

"Dear Brethren,

66

Aug. 18th, 1800.

Though far from being influenced by any spirit contrary to affection, or from being animated by a principle which delights to oppose, I have believed it my duty to dissent from the general practices of Methodism, and I now write to answer the claims you have upon me, as a member of your society, for some account of the principles which have led to my dissent.

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'During the last year, 1799, my spirit, sensible of the unstable and insufficient nature of earthly good, was more deeply engaged than before in the pursuit of spiritual happiness, of religion, and of truth, conscious, gratefully conscious, at the same time, that these three are united, and the object of my enquiry is but one.

"On Sabbath-day, about the close of the year, in a season of retirement, my soul was impressed with a conviction more powerful than any language of mine can explain, that 'religion was something more deep and more spiritual than was generally conceived.' My mind was deeply affected with the awfulness of the Divine presence, and for some