I HOPE my dear Friend caught no cold at her return from Cricklewood. The weather now is wonderfully mild, which suits the invalids, and helps off the long, dreary, and cold winter, which is so fatal to the infirmities of old age. "The outward man," says Paul, "decays, but the inward man is renewed day by day." This one particular I have long watched, and I have perceived it in the following things: by the activity or inactivity of faith, by the risings and fallings of hope, by fresh joy after sorrow, by meekness and humility after a dead and stupid frame, by fresh rays of light after gross darkness, by sweet peace after disquietude, and by a glowing love after many hard heart-risings.
I know of nothing at present that shews the going on of the good work like this. The Holy Spirit is the Spirit of all grace, the planter of all grace, and the life of every fruit which he produces; and hence he is called a wind to move his own plants, and to make them emit their scent, their savour, and their odours. He is called dew to refresh and enliven, water also to moisten and give rooting. But upon love and joy he operates as the Spirit of burning; warming, enflaming, and enlarging; and these to me are the most sweet. These are a few scraps to exercise, amuse, ponder over, and make out but after all it is but little we know of what we have got within.
THE COALHEAVER.
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