to no purpose; that, with the influence of thy holy Spirit, enrichest all those hearts from whom thy patience shall expect increase-I, the worst piece of all thy husbandry, do here acknowledge and confess my own barrenness as most unworthy of thy pains. Lord, thou hast often ploughed my heart with trials and afflictions, manured it with the presence of thy heavenly grace, and sowed it with thy pure seed; yet such is the base condition of my unfruitful heart, that either the coldness of the soil starves it, or the cares of the world choke it, or the malice of the devil robs it, that it cannot bring forth increase worthy of thy pains or expectation. Lord, I am thy husbandry; continue thy careful hand upon me, and supply my weakness with thy strength, and make me fruitful for thy glory. And thou, O God, that hast given thy word for a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my paths, so open mine eyes that I may behold the frailty of my flesh; so clear my sight that I may avoid the vanities of the world, and the snares of Satan. Be thou my screen to preserve this lamp; be thou my lantern to protect this light, that the corruptions of my flesh may not obscure it, that the vanities of the world may not eclipse it, that the suggestions of Satan may not consume it. Unlock mine ears, that I may hear what thou commandest; lock thou my memory, that I may retain what I hear; enlarge my heart, that I may practise what I retain; and open thou my lips, that I may praise thee in my practice. Consider, O God, how I love thy precepts, and quicken me according to thy loving kindness. Hide thy word in my heart, that my ways may be directed to keep thy statutes. Remember thy word to thy servant

upon which thou hast caused me to hope. Behold I am weak, be thou my helper; behold. I am comfortless, be thou my comforter. Restrain his malice that steals thy word from out thy ground, that when the time cometh thy harvest may be fruitful, and I, thy servant, being found faithful, may enter into my Master's joy, and be received into eternal glory.

THE WIDOW.

HER DISTRESS.

So vain, so momentary are the pleasures of this world; so transitory is the happiness of mankind, that what with the expectation that goes before it, and the cares that go with it, and the griefs that follow it, we are not more unhappy in the wanting it, than miserable in the enjoying it. The greatest of all worldly joys are but bubbles full of air, that break with the fulness of their own vanity, and but, at best, like Jonah's gourd, which please us while they last, and vex us in the loss. Past and future happiness are the miseries of the time present; and present happiness is but the passage to approaching misery; which being transitory, and meeting with a transitory possessor, perish in the very using. What was mine yesterday, in the blessedness of a full fruition, to-day hath nothing left of it but a sad remembrance, it was mine! The more I call to mind the joys I had, the more sensible I am of the misery I have. My sun is

set, my glory is darkened, and not one står appears in the firmament of my little world: he, from whose loins I came, is taken from me; he, to whose bosom I returned, is taken from me; my blessing in the one, my comforts in the other, are taken from me; and what is left to me but a poor third part of myself to bewail the loss of the other two? I, that was owned by the tender name of a child, am now known by the off-cast title of an orphan; I, that was respected by the honourable title of a wife, am now rejected by the despiseable name of a widow; I, that flourished like a fruitful vine upon the house-top, am now neglected and trodden under foot. He, that like a strong wall supported my tender branches, is fallen, and left my clusters to the spoil of ravenous swine. The spring-tides of my plenty are spent, and I am gravelled on the low ebbs of want; the sonnets of my mirth are turned to elegies of mourning; my glory is put out, and my honour grovels on the dust. I call to my friends, and they neglect me; I spread forth my hands, and there is none to help me; my beauty is departed from me, and all my joys are swallowed up.

Bur stay, my soul, plunge not too far; shall not he take, that gave? cannot he that took, restore? The Lord is thy portion, who saith,

I will be an husband to the widow, and a father to the fatherless. Psal. lxviii. 5.

Ye shall not afflict any widow, or fatherless child. Exod. xxii. 22.

If thou afflict them in any wise, and they cry at all unto me, I will surely hear their cry Exod. xxii. 23.

And my wrath shall wax hot, and I will kill you with the sword, and your wives shall be widows, and your children fatherless. Exod. xxii. 24.

I will be a swift witness against those that oppress the widow and the fatherless. Mal. iii. 5. Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this; to visit the fatherless and the widow in their affliction. James, i. 27.

HER SOLILOQUY.

How hath the sunshine of truth discovered, what appeared not by the candle-light of nature! How many atoms in thy soul hath this light descried, which in thy natural twilight were not visible? Excessive sadness for so great a loss can want no argument from flesh and blood, which arguments can want no weight if weighed in the partial balance of Nature. A husband is thyself divided; thy children, thyself multiplied; for whom (when snatched away) God allows some grains to thy affections; but when they exceed the allowance, they will not pass in Heaven's account, but must be coined again. Couldst thou so often offend thy God without a tear, and cannot he, my soul, displease thee once without so many? Doth the want of spiritual graces not trouble thee, and shall a temporal loss so much torment thee? Is thy husband taken away, and art thou cast down? Hath thy God promised to be thy husband, and art thou not comforted?true symptoms of more flesh than spirit. Thy husband was the gift, thy God the giver; and wilt thou more dispraise the giver than the gift?

Be wise, my soul; if thou hast lost a man, thou hast found a God: having therefore wet thy wings in Nature's showers, go and dry them in the God of Nature's sunshine.

HER PRAYER.

O GOD, in the knowledge of whom is the perfection of all joy, at whose right hand are pleasures evermore; that makest the comforts of this life momentary, that we may not overprize them, and yet hast made them requisite, that we may not undervalue them-I, a late sharer in this worldly happiness, but a sad witness of its vanity, do here address myself to thee, the only crown of all my joys, in whom there is no variableness, nor shadow of change. Lord, thou didst give me what my unthankfulness hath taken from me; but thou hast taken from me what thy goodness hath promised to supply: thou hast given and thou hast taken, blessed be thy name for ever! Thou then, O God, who art no less able to perform than willing to promise, whose mercy is more ready to bestow, than my misery is to beg, strengthen my faith, that I may believe thy promise; encourage my hopes, that I may expect thy performance; quicken my affections, that I may love the promiser; be thou all in all to me, that am nothing at all without thee; sweeten my misery with the sense of thy mercy, and lighten my darkness with the sun of thy glory; seal in my heart the assurance of adoption, that I may with boldness call thee my father; sanctify my actions with the spirit of meekness, that my conversation may testify that I am thy child; wean my hear