God for the good news of his recovery, and entreat you to tell him, that although I cannot keep pace with him here in celebrating the high praises of our glorious Redeemer, which is the greatest grief of my heart, yet I am persuaded, that, when I join the glorious company above, where there will be no drawbacks, none will outsing me there, because I shall not find any that will be more indebted to the wonderful riches of divine grace than I.

  “Give me a place at thy saints’ feet,
  On some fallen angel’s vacant seat;
  I’ll strive to sing as loud as they
  Who sit above in brighter day.

“I know it is natural for every one who has felt the almighty power which raised our glorious Redeemer from the grave, to believe his case singular; but I have made every one in this respect submit as soon as he has heard my story.  And if you seemed so surprised at the account which I gave you, what will you be when you hear it all?

  “Oh, if I had an angel’s voice,
  And could be heard from pole to pole;
  I would to all the listening world
  Proclaim thy goodness to my soul.”

He then concludes, after some expressions of endearment, (which, with whatever pleasure I review them, I must not here insert)—­

“If you knew what a natural aversion I have to writing, you would be astonished at the length of this letter, which is, I believe, the longest I ever wrote.  But my heart warms when I write to you, which makes my pen move the easier.  I hope it will please our gracious God long to preserve you, a blessed instrument in his hand, of doing great good in the church of Christ; and that you may always enjoy a thriving soul in a healthful body, shall be the continual prayer of,” &c.

As our intimacy grew, our mutual affection increased; and “my dearest friend” was the form of address with which most of his epistles of the last years were begun and ended.  Many of them are filled up with his sentiments of those writings which I published during these years, which he read with great attention, and of which he speaks in terms which it becomes me to suppress, and to impute, in a considerable degree, to the kind prejudices of so endeared a friendship.  He gives me repeated assurances “that he was daily mindful of me in his prayers”, a circumstance which I cannot recollect without the greatest thankfulness; and the loss of which I should more deeply lament, did I not hope that the happy effect of these prayers might still continue, and might run into all my remaining days.

It might be a pleasure to me to make several extracts from many others of his letters; but it is a pleasure which I ought to suppress, and rather to reflect, with unfeigned humility, how unworthy I was of such regards from such a person, and of that divine goodness which gave me such a friend in him.  I shall, therefore, only add two general remarks, which offer themselves from several of his letters.  The one