Thursday Morning.
ON Monday evening, and Tuesday evening, I flew very high, and got into the upper regions; the wind was south, and by west, and I thought I should no more descend; nor did I either dream, or think of coming back to the old cave. But yesterday, about eleven o'clock, I was led forth by the old man to be tempted of the devil, and when he will end all the temptations I know not; hilt he has not departed from me since, no, not for a season. In this conflict I have found my wretched heart full of envy, curses, and all sorts of vanity: rebellion, peevishness, anger, and malice, reigned triumphant; and the wind is still at the old point. Oh! the difference between the old man and law, the new man and gospel.
I thought this morning of my friend near the Tower, and found myself in the same ditch. Love is now at Miletum, sick; Patience is gone to Dalmatia; and Faith lies with the cloak, at Troas: only Hope is with me, and though he is profitable, yet more is wanting for the ministry. Storms and calms, darkness and light, bondage and liberty, temptation and consolation, adversity and prosperity, will attend us, till the battle is fought, the course finished, and the prize of the high calling taken. I am now in want of every thing, and in possession of nothing. But there is some comfort in this, namely, that I have not to shew my face in public this week.
W. H., S. S.
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