“The Bible lies open before me; it is full of consolation; but all is in prospect.  I look at God, what he is in himself, what he is to his people now and what he will be to eternity:  the consolations of hope are mine; but for the present, I feel like the sparrow on the house-top, or like a pelican in the wilderness; and when I think on my years and the robustness of my constitution, and that I may have a long journey before me, I am not able to look at it.  At the same time, when I consider my children, who, having lost their pastor, who bore them on his heart to the throne of grace, have double need of a mother, I dare not indulge a wish, far less put up a petition for release.  O, that I could get under the influence of that spirit which I have witnessed in my dear pastor—­that entire confidence in God—­that perfect resignation to his will—­that complacency in all he has done, is doing, or will do—­that rest in God, of which he seems to be put in possession even now, while his breast is laboring and heaving like a broken bellows, and he cannot fetch one full breath.  O, what cannot God effect.

“SUNDAY EVENING.  I have again seen my dear pastor, and discern the clay dissolving fast.  The words of dying saints are precious, and his are few.  He thus accosted me:  ’I am just waiting the will of God; for the present I seem a useless blank in his hand; I can say very little; be not too anxious for my life, but transfer your care to the church; my life or death is but a trifle; if the Lord have any use for me, it is easy for him to raise me up still; and if he do, it will be agreeable to observe his hand distinct from men; if he should not, you will all be cared for; leave all to him and seek his glory.’  He could say no more, nor will I to-night, but address myself to our Lord on his behalf, yours, my own, and our dear concerns.

“Several days have elapsed since I last wrote; our dear doctor still lives, often recruits, and again is reduced; but man can do no more; my last page, before the vessel sails, shall be of him.

“As to myself and family, we are as the Lord would have it with us, and I make no doubt as we need.  Business very full; a house full of boarders, and about sixty scholars.  I begin to feel the effects of fatigue or age, I know not which.  The almond-tree flourishes; those that look out at the windows begin to be darkened; but the keepers of the house stand firm, and all the wheels and springs discharge their office, though more heavily; there is no judging of my days by present appearances.  Well, let me once more return to my rest—­God; commit my way to him, who shall bring to pass what is best, and in the end shall complete my happiness.