the glory of God. If our trials lead our minds to self-concern, selfinquiry, and self renunciation ;-if the Redeemer's power and atone ment are more desired and trusted;--if God's will appears more wise, just and kind, in the most painful parts of his dispensations towards us; and we desire his will may be done upon us and in us; we may be certain that God sends our trials in love. We pray for an increase of faith, deadness to the world, resemblance to God, and assurance of his friendship. He answers our prayers; but often, by, what to us, proves "terrible things in righteousness;" yea, by terrible things in love, in wisdom and in grace. If we are converted, we wish to know it; and we cannot know our faith, love, hope or patience to be genuine, but by trial. Every affliction or temptation puts our faith to the proof. "God leads us about, to prove us.” Our trials prove the reality and the weakness or strength of faith: although in the trial, it may seem to prove us destitute of any. This depends upon God's design. Some have one affliction of body after another; and talk of nothing but God's love to them, and their assurance of it. Where is the trial in all this? It is hardly worthy of the name. But if the Lord intends to point a trial, there shall be a circumstance to sharpen it. It pierces deep, and pains sorely. Others look on, sympathize, and perhaps wonder, that what appears to them a small trial, should so much affect us. This was the case with some of my friends, when I lost my child; but they did not see the small secret ingredient, which embittered every circumstance and constituted the poison which inflamed the whole. "The heart knows its own bitterness; and the Lord knows it; for he appoints that bitterness, and has a gracious end in it. Our pains give him no pleasure; for "God is love," in all his words and actions, towards his people. But "he takes pleasure in the prosperity of his servants," and promotes that prosperity by all the dispensations through which he leads them.

A good man often grieves that his enjoyments under the cross have not equalled what other Christians have expressed, or what he expected. But God does not send our trials for the ease of the flesh, nor merely the comfort of the mind. No; the absence of that comfort, and the painful doubts, the gloomy fears, the humbling convictions, and the perplexing suggestions of the adversary; these make the edge of the trial: without these things, the trial would not answer the purpose of God's wisdom and grace upon us. Our soul's

prosperity is not to be measured by our comfort in affliction, or out of it; for many are exceedingly comfortable, from the good opinion they have formed of themselves, and by presuming that God thinks of them as they think of themselves. But if the Lord separates us more from our conceit of our wisdom, worth, strength, and from our sinful purposes and negligences; if we are more resigned to his will, and more concerned to "stand only in his counsel," we shall look back upon our trials with reflections of wonder, love, and praise. We often mourn, because our end of the trial is not answered; that is, we are not so comfortable as we wish; but perhaps the Lord's end is accomplished; and when that is seen, we rejoice, where we before indulged unreasonable sorrow. Darkness and doubts-fears and perplexity may, and in some degree, will, assault us; but these things are very consistent with a steady walk with God.

Many a soul, in “a low estate," low in its views, low in its hopes and comforts, and low in its opinion of itself, has this lowness increased by the animal spirits being reduced, and the advantage Satan takes to harass them in such a situation. Shaken out of selfish desires, worldly hopes and comforts-they are ready to speak what they fear, that "the Lord has forsaken them. But when they have waited a season, and discover God's steady purpose of mercy towards them, through all their shakings-and experience fresh relief from the love, atonement, and intercession of Christ, through "the spirit of faith"-then that providence which seemed "dark and crooked," appears "light and straight." Its experience worketh "lively hope," that,

"Not all that hell, or sin can say,

Shall turn his heart, his love away."

With love to Mr. Searle, (my wife joins me)

I am your's, with affectionate sympathy,

JOHN COOKE.

LETTER XIV.-To MR. WESTBROOK.

March 8, 1795.

My dear friend must not think that he has been forgotten by me since I left home, for often have I mentioned you to my wife, and at some seasons, mentioned your name to one, of whom I trust

I may say, He is "your Father, and my Father: your God, and my God." I am now, through divine goodness, better in health, than at any period since I left home. The weather has been singularly changeable--invalids have sunk under its sudden changes; some to their beds, and others to their graves. At Bristol, every family complains of illness; and my dear brother's indisposition gave a considerable check to my recovery. At length I was obliged to yield, and request assistance. Well, let us stand upon our Watch Tower, "for the Lord hath a controversy with the land." He hath discovered this in the war; and by a destructive fever at home and abroad. God does not send the French to scourge us-he has ten thousand diseases at hand to accomplish his righteous designs. The Lord's voice crieth to the city, the country, and to the church, but only the men of wisdom can understand, and read his name. Since I have been at Bristol, men have left their families in health, and have been brought home from London; some, half dead, lived a few days, and departed. Others went out well, and are confined in London, by disorders. It really requires the presence of God, and the aid of his Spirit, to bear the dismal tales of many families we visit. We too are mortal; we must fall, or rather we are falling. Some mighty disorder, the first born of death, may soon seize us, and in the hour we think not, God may "change our countenance, and send us away." Let us neither presume, nor despond, but "rejoice with trembling." Let us rejoice, for the Lord reigneth over life and death, disease and health. But rejoice with trembling, for life and health are uncertain-Satan is busy-the heart is deceitful, to flatter our self-conceit, to defer the concerns of eternity to a future day, to substitute some duties for all, and to put the form for the power. Let us rejoice with trembling, for the heart is deceitful to divert us from home, from our own characters, families, sins, mercies, and duties; and lead us astray to the defects, diseases, deaths, or concerns of others; and whilst we are busy here and there,' time is gone! health is gone! life is gone!

If the Lord is neg ected while speaking to us by the sickness or death of others, perhaps a fiery trial' may be preparing for us. Many presume, that however slothful they are in the means of grace, all will be comfort and joy in the hour of affliction. Amazing folly! pitiable delusion! When the hour of trial comes, they exclaim, 'Oh! had I but a sense of the love of God, I could bear

the trial." True, for this is very often the point of the trial: I mean a doubt, whether the trial is sent in love; and if the Lord intends the trial to be sharp and painful, that doubt shall perhaps be continued, and supported by sense, by Satan, and a train of false reasonings, by a sense of first sin, and by a cloud over all the evidences of the soul's conversion. Many professors are very joyful in affliction, from a proud self-preference of their own sentiments and characters. Evangelical in their opinion, confident of their safety in Christ, and full of proud self-love, and carnal joy, in spiritual things. Whose communion with God in secret prayer never can be proved by themselves; and whose slothfulness in divine things, and selfishness in worldly things, are evident to all but themselves. Tell them, with a serious countenance, that without holiness no man shall see the Lord, and your company disgusts them; they pity you as ignorant, or despise you as legal. Their false confidence, and self-conceit, is the more strong, because they are happy and joyful under a trial; and some, taking all for gold that glitters, praise them as saints of the first rate. I had much rather be the greatest blasphemer in all Maidenhead, than such a man. A man may call any thing a trial, and magnify it to feed his own vanity. The meaning then, is, what a great trial I have had! and how great my faith and patience under it! Whereas, in fact, he had only a trial in nature, and his great faith and patience are only in name-mere words. On the other hand, I find some of the Lord's children conflicting in the fire with Satan, with atheistical thoughts, with carnal reasonings about Providence, with doubts of their interest in God's love.

Instead of raptures, they are searching their hearts, and trying their ways; looking back, and searching and mourning over personal sins, family sins, sins in trade, known and unknown, mourning over lost opportunities, and formal duties. In the hour of solemn trial, the humbled Christian sets the highest value on his past mercies; and bows under a sense of ingratitude for, and no improvement of them. He learns where he has trifled about serious things, and been anxious about trifles. Feeling, as well as owning his own sinfulness, his weakness, and folly, his applications to God in Christ are real, humble, solemn, repeated, importunate, and successful. His affliction for the present has been grievous !' Darkness, doubt, uncertainty, conflict, self-confusion, and sore

temptation rendered it so. Nevertheless, it is for his profit, that he may be a partaker of God's holiness.

Strange, that God's children should judge of their profit by their comforts. They may deceive us, but God, who is the best judge of sterling profit, calls holiness profit. This profits the soul, profits it for eternity. Do our children feel comfortable under the rod? Should we be pleased to see them smile at their father's anger? No, surely! But if they owned their fault, wept over it, shewed their value of their father's favours, by thankfulness for his displeasure, intreated his forgiveness, and purposed to watch against a repetition of the transgression, how would the father act? Would he continue to frown? to rebuke? to chastise? Nay-"his bowels are troubled" for him, and "he will surely have mercy upon him."

My very dear brother and friend, excuse the rambling of my pen. I have written what first came to my mind after I took it up. In sickness and health, life and death, may you and your's know, experimentally, that "as a father pitieth his children," surely notless when in affliction, "so the Lord pitieth them that fear him."

My dear Mary unites in love to you, Mrs. W., Mr. and Mrs. Aldridge, with your affectionate brother and friend,

J. COOKE

LETTER XV.-TO THE REV. MR. SIBREE OF FROME.

Maidenhead, Berks, April 6th, 1796,

My dear brother asks me to mention any of his blunders in preaching, which have occurred to me, since I returned from Bristol. Alas! I have been reviewing my own blunders; and conscious of their number, I feel very awkward in mentioning yours. I fear lest any thing I write, should wear the appearance of assuming the air of a dictator. What appears a fault to one, is admired as an excellence by another. And what once appeared to me necessary in a sermon, now appears cumbersome. "I know not how to (preach) as I ought," but daily need the Spirit to "help my infirmities." I have preached until I feel my insufficiency for the pulpit, even to discouragement. But when I reflect, that "my sufficiency is of God," my weak hands and knees are strengthened. What appeared