LETTER IX. "As from the wing no scar the sky retains, Edinburgh, 13th January, 1821. DEEPLY must you be impressed with the death of your valuable mother; my having seen, conversed, and eat with her the day previous to dissolution, deeply impresses me with the uncertainty of life. The idea of having conversed and taken a last meal with a friend of Christ, in the full exercise of all her faculties, on the eve of departure to her Father's house, is pleasing to the mind. The silent combat and final triumph of a Christian is greater far than triumphs in the field of blood. The Christian's triumph is over himself; his enemies are the corruptions of his own heart; and his conquests are generally without any plaudit except an approving conscience, and the hand of faith pointing to another and a better world. His combat is not visible to the world; hence they too frequently misconstrue and even deride his noble acts of self-denial, of catholic love, of bearing patiently their reproach, and even turning to them the other cheek that they may smite. But though the world refuse them praise, still there is one who contemplates all with an eye of complacency, whose reward is with him to do to every one according as his work shall be. When dear friends are taken away, how fondly do we recall in our memories their kind expressions, benevolent wishes, and the acts of charity we have heard and witnessed of them! It is these labours of love that give us the cheering hope, that their earthly career hath ended in a state of unalloyed bliss. Performing works of charity in obedience to the command of Jesus, witness the doers of them to be his disciples; for where his spirit dwells it comes with power, renewing the whole man, turning him from the gratification of his passions, unholy desires, and selfish views, and whatever hath the appearance of evil, making him live by faith. The prospect of eternity powerfully impresses the mind with the value of the short span of life, when it is only given to prepare for death. Were there the most distant hope in the lapse of centuries, that the sinner might at last arrive at peace, it would lessen the madness of his folly when, as he expresses it," he kills time!" Deeply ought the death of friends to impress us with the certainty of our latter end, that the present dwellings of our souls must dissolve in dust to make way for their entrance into the unseen world. And must our vital breathing bodies mix with the clay, be as if they had not been? That they must, every day bears evidence of the mandate of Heaven: "Dust thou art, and to dust thou shalt return." When our lot is so soon to be sealed, and the grave so soon to open for us, our greatest study should be, to improve our friend's death, to be ready lest there should be an eternal separation. To die is serious, to terminate the career of our earthly toil,to bid adieu to all the ties of life; but it must be,our fathers are gone before us, and we must follow. Preparation for death is a work of the greatest magnitude, and a work not to be delayed to a deathbed; it requires the vigour of health, and soundness of mind, steadily to draw aside the curtain of futurity, and bring near to view the lot of the impenitent sinner; and to weigh our own.state before God in the balance of truth; to search whether we have believed and taken hold on the everlasting covenant; whether Christ be formed in us, or hath his blood purified us by the washing of regeneration; to have an assurance of an interest in Christ is the greatest of all consolation. There is a hope beyond the grave, to which charity raises the mournful eyes; and faith contemplates with delight the joyful reception the unencumbered spirit meets with in the society of Jesus, and of the saints in glory. This glorious hope of a future union of souls in a state of bliss, and a future resurrection of our bodies, sooths our souls amid the rending of life's dearest bands. Though the grave cover from our view all that was visible of our friends, still reason faintly whispers, and revelation boldly declares, that there is an immortal spirit in man that can never die, that rises as it were to a new birth when the body is consigned to the lonesome graye where silence reigns! May God grant you every heavenly consolation under your great bereavement. LETTER X. I cannot go Where universal love not smiles around, Come then, expressive silence, muse his praise. THOMSON. Edinburgh, 15th January, 1821. YOUR family is multiplying in the unseen world, and I believe amongst the spirits of the just made perfect, who surround the throne of the Eternal, and sing his praise. It is a powerful inducement for the souls of parents to ascend in prayer to the throne of mercy, that they may join the spirits of their offspring in praising, "Him who was slain, and hath redeemed us to God by his blood, and hath made us unto God kings and priests." How fondly do our thoughts follow the objects of our love, even when separated from us but for a short time; but, when the beloved object is laid in |