Chapter I: PITY you, my dear friend; I saw yesterday that your head was full,

and your heart not so warm towards God as it sometimes is. Oh when shall we be free from these distractions? Or rather when shall our love to our Redeemer be so intense, that our hearts may be constantly fixed on him, and we (as it were) walk through the fire without being burnt? *I remember having sometimes said to you the beginning of last summer, “There is more a vast deal in faith than we all imagine;” and though, thanks to the free grace of God, we both know more of faith now, than we did at that time, yet I may still repeat the saying, and may continue to repeat it, till our eyes are fully opened in eternity. “All things are possible to him that believeth,” said the God of truth; and why then do not you and I conquer all sin? Because _we do not believe_. The unbounded riches of the grace of God in Christ Jesus are hardly more astonishing, than the perverseness of that soul, which will not fully trust in them. Christ stands ever ready to save to the uttermost, if we will but believe, that he can, and will do it; and we draw back and shrink from his redeeming hand. We suffer the dark clouds of our fallen nature to obscure the glorious light of the promises of God. And though our heads may be fully convinced of their truth, and we may have some desires of attaining them, yet there is in the centre of our souls an hidden root of unbelief, which just as we are going to lay hold on the prize, whispers――“How can these things be?” and then we sink. I have heard it observed of the eagle, that she holds her young ones full against the bright beams of the mid day sun: if they behold it stedfastly, she nourishes them, but if they turn away their heads or shut their eyes, she dashes them to the ground. There is something very striking in this. A nominal believer, who makes a profession of holiness, has all the outward marks of a true believer, as these dastard eagles have of the others; but he cannot look stedfastly at the glorious beams of the Sun of Righteousness: and how dreadful is the consequence? Oh my love, how ought we to watch and pray! How careful ought we to be not to lose sight for one moment of our immaterial sun, lest the eye of our minds should by that means contract a dimness and weakness, which might render us incapable of stedfastly beholding him, when he shall appear in all the fulness of his glory. May the God of mercy preserve you in all temptations, and be your portion in time and in eternity.

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_My dear Friend_,