“June 11.—­Yesterday up in Dunipace.  It would seem as if I were afraid to name the name of Christ.  Saw many worldly people greatly needing a word in season, yet could not get up my heart to speak.  What I did failed almost completely.  I am not worthy, Lord!  To-day sought to prepare my heart for the coming Sabbath.  After the example of Boston, whose life I have been reading, examined my heart with prayer and fasting. 1.  Does my heart really close with the offer of salvation by Jesus?  Is it my choice to be saved in the way which gives Him all the praise, and me none?  Do I not only see it to be the Bible way of salvation, but does it cordially approve itself to my heart as delightful?  Lord search me and try me, for I cannot but answer, Yes, yes. 2.  Is it the desire of my heart to be made altogether holy?  Is there any sin I wish to retain?  Is sin a grief to me, the sudden risings and overcomings thereof especially?  Lord, Thou knowest all things—­Thou knowest that I hate all sin, and desire to be made altogether like Thee.  It is the sweetest word in the Bible:  ’Sin shall not have dominion over you.’  Oh, then, that I might lie low in the dust,—­the lower the better,—­that Jesus’ righteousness and Jesus’ strength alone be admired!  Felt much deadness, and much grief that I cannot grieve for this deadness.  Towards evening revived.  Got a calm spirit through psalmody and prayer.”

“June 12, Sabbath.—­To-day a sinner preached Jesus, the same Jesus who has done all things for him and that so lately!  A day of much help, of some earnest looking-up of the heart to that alone quickening power, of much temptation to flattery and pride.  Oh for breathing gales of spiritual life!  Evening—­Somewhat helped to lay Jesus before little children in his beauty and excellency.  Much fatigue, yet some peace.  Surely a day in thy courts is better than a thousand.”

“June 15.—­Day of visiting (rather a happy one) in Carron-shore.  Large meeting in the evening.  Felt very happy after it, though mourning for bitter speaking of the gospel.  Surely it is a gentle message, and should be spoken with angelic tenderness, especially by such a needy sinner.”

Of this bitterness in preaching, he had little indeed in after days; yet so sensible was he of its being quite natural to all of us, that oftentimes he made it the subject of conversation, and used to grieve over himself if he had spoken with anything less than solemn compassion.  I remember on one occasion, when we met, he asked what my last Sabbath’s subject had been.  It had been, “The wicked shall be turned into hell.”  On hearing this awful test, he asked, “Were you able to preach it with tenderness?” Certain it is that the tone of reproach and upbraiding is widely different from the voice of solemn warning.  It is not saying hard things that pierces the consciences of our people; it is the voice of divine love heard amid the thunder.  The sharpest point of the two-edged