I had preached in the bitterness of my heart from these words:  “Is it well with thy husband? is it well with the child?  And she answered, It is well.” 2 Kings iv. 26.  I endeavoured to show the reason there was to say this; but surely there was never any dispensation of Providence in which I found it so hard, for my very soul had been overwhelmed within me.  Indeed, some hard thoughts of the mercy of God were ready to arise; and the apprehension of his heavy displeasure, and the fear of my child’s future state, added fuel to the fire.

Upon the whole, my mind was in the most painful agitation; but it pleased God, that, in composing the sermon, my soul became quieted, and I was brought into a more silent and cordial submission to the Divine will.

At the table I discoursed on these words, “Although my house be not so with God.” 2 Samuel xxiii. 5.  I observed, that domestic calamities may befall good men in their journey through life, and particularly in relation to their children; but that they have a refuge in God’s covenant; it is everlasting; it is sure; it is well ordered—­every provision is made according to our necessities; and shall be our salvation, as it is the object of our most affectionate regard.

One further circumstance I must record; and that is, that I here solemnly recollected that I had, in a former sacrament taken the cup with these words, “Lord, I take this cup as a public and solemn token that I will refuse no other cup which thou shalt put into my hand.”  I mentioned this recollection, and charged it publicly on myself and my Christian friends.  God has taken me at my word, but I do not retract it; I repeat it again with regard to every future cup.

I am just come from the coffin of my dear child, who seemes to be sweetly asleep there, with a serene, composed, delightful countenance, once how animated with double life!  There—­lo!  O my soul! lo there! is thine idol laid still in death—­the creature which stood next to God in thine heart; to whom it was opened with a fond and flattering delight.  Methinks I would learn to be dead with her—­dead to the world.  Oh that I could be dead with her, not any further than that her dear memory may promote my living to God.[*]

[Note:  The following note was written in the margin of the manuscript by the late Rev. Thomas Stedman:  “I think I have heard that the doctor wrote his funeral sermon for his daughter, or a part of it, upon her coffin.”]

I had a great deal of very edifying, conversation last night and his morning with my wife, whose wisdom does indeed make her face to shine under this affliction.  She is supported and armoured with a courage which seems not at all natural to her; talks with the utmost freedom, and has really said many of the most useful things that ever were said to me by any person upon the earth, both as to consolation and admonition.  Had the best things I have read on the subject been