receiving, benefits,-nobly independent,-possessing all, which the treacherous world could now bestow. Thus I went on,-pleased, and pleasing. I had leisure for converse with myself, with my bible, and my God. The letters of my Eliza were a source of mournfully pensive consolation,-they were multiplied, and I had carefully preserved them. Many a time have I shed over them the private, the midnight tear; and reading them thus late, when I have fallen into a sweet slumber, I have met the lovely author in my dreams, and our meeting has been replete with consolation, with such high intercourse, as can only be realized in heaven. Our Sundays were indeed blessed holydays; people began to throng from all quarters on horseback; some from the distance of twenty miles. I was at first pleased with this, so was my patron; but multiplied invitations to visit other places, saddened our spirits. I dreaded the thought of departing from home, and, in the fulness of my heart, I determined I would never accede to any request, which should bear me from a seclusion, so completely commensurate with my wishes. Alas! alas! how little do we know of ourselves, or our destination. Solicitations, earnest solicitations, poured in from the Jersies, from Philadelphia, and from New-York; and it became impossible to withstand their repeated and imposing energy.

The first visit I made, was to a village about eight miles from my late-found home. My patron accompanied me, and we were joyfully received, by a serious and respectable family, who embraced, with devout hearts, the truth, as it is in Jesus; and who were consequently saved from all those torturing fears, that had previously harrowed up their spirits, in the dread expectation of those everlasting burnings, which they believed awaited themselves, and their offspring. In this village, I one morning entered a house, and beheld a fond mother weeping over an infant, who lay sweetly sleeping in her arms. Sympathy for the sorrowing mother moistened my eye; and, supposing that her tears flowed from some domestic distress, or pecuniary embarrassment, I endeavoured to console her, by observing, that the world was very wide, and that God was an all-sufficient Father. "Alas! sir," she replied, “I never, in the whole course of my life, experienced a moment's anxiety from the dread of my children, or myself, suffering the want either of food, or raiment. No, sir, my fears are, that they will be sufferers, through the wasteless ages of eternity, in that state of torment, from whence there is no reprieve; and that they will continually execrate their parents, as the wretched instruments of bringing them into being. I have eight children, sir; and can I be so arrogant, as fo

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believe, that all those children are elected to everlasting life ?" But, my dear lady, you have reason to believe they will be saved, whether they be elected or not, because Christ Jesus is the Saviour of all men. This did not satisfy her. I took up the bible, which lay upon her desk, and the first scripture, which met my view, was the 127 Psalm. I glanced my eye upon the 3d verse of that Psalm : Lo, children are the heritage of the Lord, and the fruit of the womb is His reward." I did not recollect this passage; it was the first time it had met my particular observation; but it has ever since been right precious to my soul. I merely opened the bible, in the expectation of finding something to soothe a sorrowing mother, and this most pertinent passage broke upon me, with unequalled splendor. I was myself astonished, and presenting the sacred passage, I remarked: There, madam, God has sent you, for your consolation, this divine discovery. You have been unhappy, because you did not know, that your children were God's children, and that He loved them as well, yea, infinitely better, than you can pretend to love them. Nay, look at the passage, you see your children are the heritage of God, they are his reward; will He give His heritage to His adversary? or will He suffer him to seize any part thereof, if He has sufficient power to prevent it? Again and again, the fond mother perused the passage; gradually her countenance changed, and the clouds dispersed; a flood of tears burst from her eyes; she brightened up, and, pressing her babe to her maternal bosom, rapturously exclaimed: "Blessed, blessed God, they are not mine; they are thine, O Almighty Father; and thou wilt not be regardless of thine own!" I never saw more joy in consequence of believing, than I then beheld. Ten years afterwards, I again saw this parent, and asked her, what she thought of her children? Blessed be God, said she, they are God's children; and I have never had an unhappy moment respecting their future state, since my Redeemer has been graciously pleased to make known unto me his soul-satisfying truth. No, sir, my spirit is not now a sorrowing spirit.

Again a letter was handed me from New-York, earnestly entreating me to pay them a visit. Arrangements were made for my passage in the vessel, by which I received the solicitation. To a summons so pressing, I dared not turn a deaf ear. In fact, a revolution had taken place in my mind. It appeared to me, that I was highly reprehensible in thus withdrawing myself from the tour of duty, which seemed appointed for me; and I determined never to seek, directly or indirectly, for an open door, and never again to refuse entering any door, which providence should open. It is true, I never wished to receive an invi

tation; but I was aware, that the direction of me and my movements were in the hands of infinite wisdom; and promising my benevolent host, that I would return as soon as possible, I departed for New-York. My reception surpassed my expectations, and even my wishes. Many persons, anxious to detain me in their city, went so far, as to hand about a subscription-paper, for the purpose of building for me a house of public worship. It was completely filled in one day, when application was made to me to abide with them continually. I urged, my absolute promise given, and my inclination, prompting my return to Good Luck, the name of the place where my friend Potter dwelt. They were astonished at my determination to reside in such a place, when the city of New-York was opening its arms to receive me; but, on my repeating the circumstances, attendant upon my arrival there, they seemed disposed to acquiesce, and to acknowledge the good hand of God outstretched for my direction. The Baptist meeting-house was again open to me, and the congregations were very large; my friends multiplied very fast, and I became gradually attached to this city. Yet I ardently desired to return to the home of my choice, and, after spending a few weeks in New-York, I once more hailed my providential residence; numbers of warm-hearted friends accompanying me, as before, even to the vessel's side, where they offered up to heaven their most fervent prayers in my behalf. My heart was greatly affected, I was warmly attached to many in New-York. The family of Col. Drake, and many others, now no more, were very dear to me. I reached home in good health, and was received with great joy; even the servants seemed to participate the benevolence of their master. In fact, having nothing in the habitation of my friend to render me uneasy, my mind became more tranquil, than it had been for many years; and, at peace in my own breast, I consequently contributed to the happiness of all around me. Thus I continued in undisturbed repose, until a Baptist minister from New-Jersey, believing my sentiments precisely in unison with his own, conceived a strong affection for me. He solicited me to become a member of his church, that I might obtain a licence from their association. Of course, I declined his friendly offers; for I well knew, when he discovered I really believed the gospel, which I preached, uniting with his brethren, he would be as anxious to exclude me from his synagogue, as he now was to receive me. He pressed me, however, to visit him, which I did, accompanied by my patron, who, to his great mortification, was necessitated to leave me there. In this gentleman's pulpit I preached; I lodged in his house; and received from him

every mark of attention, until my unbending refusal of all collections, and the partiality of his friends, visibly diminished his regards. I had calculated upon this change, and it did not therefore astonish me. He was, however, a warm-hearted man, and as sincere, as men in general are. In this place I was introduced to many worthy characters, who, as a part of the election, obtained a knowledge of the truth, as it is in Jesus; among the rest was a justice Pangburn, a venerable old gentleman, who had for many years been considered by his brethren, as an oracle. This gentleman heard me ; conversed with me; and discovered, that my testimony was not in unison with the teaching, to which he had listened. He became sedulously intent upon detecting my errors, and he soon discovered I was wrong, and as soon, kindly endeavoured to set me right; but, as there was no other way of effectuating his wishes, but by the word of God,—for I refused all other authority, he was soon convinced, upon searching the sacred writings for proofs of my heresy, that it was he himself, who had wandered from that precious truth once delivered to the saints. Without hesitation, he renounced his former views, and continued ever after an able, and zealous advocate for the truth, preached by Abraham. It was now noised abroad, that I was an erroneous teacher. The clergyman, who was so warmly attached to me, while he believed me a Calvinistic Baptist, now commenced a most inveterate adversary; and his opposition published more extensively my name, and peculiar tenets. Curiosity was excited, and I became the object of general inquiry. It is a melancholy truth, that esteem, and consequent friendship, are not generally so operative upon the human mind, as rancour and enmity: my experience is in unison with this observation. Ihastened back to my calm retreat; alas! it was no longer my peaceful home,-for, although no change had taken place in the house of my friend, yet the influence of my clerical enemy pursued me. Opposition, however, begat opposition; and, while I was hated by the many, I was loved and caressed by the few. Solicitations to preach were multiplied from every quarter, and, although there was not abatement in the attachment of my patron, yet the estrangement of some individuals, in our vicinity, diminished the difficulty of accepting invitations, and I was induced to visit a few warm-hearted individuals, in the neighbourhood of my implacable foe. Upon my arrival there, I discovered a want, of which I had not until then been conscious: I wanted a horse. A single hint was sufficient; a horse was immediately procured, and, so ardent was the affection of my adherents, that I could

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not express a wish, which they were not eager to gratify; but my wishes were very much bounded, and my wants few and simple.

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An invitation from Philadelphia being frequently, and earnestly repeated, I repaired to that city; a respectable circle of friends awaited me there. The Baptist minister invited me to his house, and his pulpit. He questioned me in private, and, in the course of our conversation, he frequently repeated: "Christ, in us, the hope of glory." I ventured to ask, Pray, sir, what do you understand by Christ, in us, the hope of glory? "Why, sir, in looking into my heart, I find something in it, which I had not some years ago." Do you, sir, call this something, Christ? Undoubtedly." But, sir, all the angels of God worship Christ; all the ends of the earth are admonished to look unto Christ, and be saved; we are exhorted to trust in him at all times; and to believe, that there is no other name given under heaven, among men, whereby we can be saved. Now, my good sir, suffer me to ask, would it be safe for angels in heaven, or men upon earth, to worship that something, you have in your heart, which you had not there some years ago? would it be safe for all the ends of the earth, or any of the inhabitants of the world, to look to that something for salvation? could I, or any other person, trust, at all times, to that something? "Then, sir, if this be not Christ, what can the passage I have cited mean?" Certainly, sir, this cannot be the Christ, Paul preached. The Christ, Paul preached, was crucified; he was buried; he arose; he ascended; and the heavens must contain him, until the time of the restitution of all things. "But how then is Why, sir, the Chris

it, that this Christ can be in us the hope of glory?"

tian has no other hope of glory, than Jesus Christ, entered within the vail; and this Saviour is, in his heart, the object of his trust, confidence, and affection. You have, sir, as I understand, a beloved wife in Europe; but, although the Western ocean rolls between you, yet you may say, she is ever in your heart, and no one would be at a loss to understand you; but if you were to tell them, your conjugal affection was your wife, they would stare at you: and yet it would be as proper to say, your conjugal affection was your wife, as to say your love to God, or any other good, and proper propensity, was your Christ. No, my dear sir, these are not that Christ, the things of which, the Spirit of truth taketh, and showeth them to men, as the matter of their rejoicing. The Christ, of whom you speak, can be no other than the false Christ; that is, something which is called Christ, but is not Christ, The Christ, of whom you speak, as your hope of glory, was never seen by any body, and is itself nobody. It neither suffered for your sins, nor rose for