attends my labours. I am surrounded with blessings more than I should have dared to hope; but this accursed sin turns them all to poison and bitterness. Were it not for this, how happy might I be! But, blessed be God, this shews me more and more clearly what an evil and bitter thing it is to forsake the Lord of hosts."

I find scarcely any time to read or study, and am constrained to go into the pulpit with discourses so undigested, that my pride is continually mortified; and though it lies groaning and bleeding under continual wounds, it will not be persuaded to give up the ghost. However, so long as God is pleased to carry on his work with such discourses, I have no right to complain or be discouraged; since, the feebler the means, the more He is glorified. And I hope that, some time or other, I shall learn to be willing to be counted a fool, that all the glory may redound to his wisdom. But this is a hard lesson to learn. To be willing to be nothing, to rejoice to be nothing, that God may be all in all; to glory in infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me,-this is the temper which I pine and hunger after; but, alas! it appears at a distance so great, that I despair of ever reaching any where near it in this world. If we could put God entirely in the place of self-consider his will as our will, his honour as our honour, his happiness as our happiness, his interest as our interest, and pursue it accordingly-how happy should we be! And how happy shall we be in that world where this will be the case, and where the very stump of that Dagon, Self, will not be permitted to remain in our hearts, as the rival of our blessed Redeemer! Oh to be holy as God is holy! This is to be happy, according to our measure, as God is happy. Strive then my dear, dear sister, strive, wrestle, pray, long, and pant after holiness. If I cannot be holy myself, yet I long to see others holy. If I cannot love and praise the ever-blessed Redeemer, it is almost heaven sufficient to see him loved and praised by others. If we could render to him according to his benefits-but we cannot, we cannot; we must be content to be, as it were, crushed to all eternity under an insupportable weight of goodness; for even the disposition to praise him for favours already received, is a new favour, which still adds to the mighty debt; and the faster he enables us to render back what we receive, so much the faster do our obligations increase."

Such was Mr. Payson's character, and such were his feelings, in the early stages of his ministry. As he advanced in his course, he became still more fervent, diligent, and spiritually minded; and successive revivals of religion in the scene and neighbourhood of his labours testified the blessing with which God was pleased to honour his exertions. It were superfluous to detail his various efforts to promote the spiritual interests, not only of his own flock, but of all to whom his influence could reach. His labours both in public and private were abundant; he had Bible classes, religious conferences, charitable societies, and all the apparatus of Christian benevolence. Passing by these details, which the reader will suppose for himself, we go on with our extracts from his own letters and his secret diary, which are far more expressive than any general summary of his history.

"My situation is now as agreeable as I expect it ever will be on earth, and I shall not be in a hurry to change it. I now hear none but religious conversation; every day seems like a Sabbath; and we have a little image of heaven upon earth.”

"Was much enlivened to-day, by hearing that a remarkable spirit of prayer was poured out last evening at meeting. Could not but hope that the Lord was about to take the work into his own hands. In the evening attended the conference for inquirers. Was still more encouraged by hearing that the Spirit was again remarkably present-at a prayer meet

ing of the church this evening. Felt almost confident that the Lord was about to make bare his arm in a wonderful manner. Was so much animated and enlivened by this hope, that I could scarcely recover sufficient tranquillity of mind to pray that my hopes might not be disappointed."

Yet, one week after, so little certainty or permanence is there in human hopes or feelings, he writes: "Was exceedingly feeble all day. In the afternoon and evening attended the conference for inquirers, but found only one. Was at first discouraged; but afterwards reflected, that it is God's method to bring us low before he raises us."

"A large proportion of our church have been, and still are, exercised with the most dreadful and distressing temptations. I now understand the reason of my dreadful trials. Had it not been for them, I should have been still more unfit for my present situation than I am at present. Often should I be utterly at a loss what to say or think, had not a wise and gracious Master foreseen what I should need, and taken measures accordingly. He has been pleased, of late, to bless my endeavours to comfort his tempted and distressed people with wonderful success. I often stand astonished at it myself, and seem to look upon it as a greater honour and favour, than even to be owned in the conversion of sinners. If I can be permitted to do this, I seem willing to stay and suffer every thing which he sees fit to lay upon me."

"Pray for me, and pray for my people. When I ask them to pray for me, they only smile, and reply, that I need not their prayers. In short, we are all young here, and have little experience; and if God does not prevent, we shall rush into all manner of extravagance."

"I would not part with the privilege of preaching Christ crucified to perishing sinners, and of administering to the consolation of God's afflicted people, to be made monarch of the world. But oh, the agonies, the unutterable, inconceivable agonies, which must be endured by those who attempt, with such a heart as mine, to perform this work! I shudder with horror to think of the scenes through which I have been obliged to pass; and shrink back from those through which I must yet pass, before I reach the rest prepared for the people of God. It is, however, some comfort, that the time when I shall quit this scene of trial cannot be far distant."

"Sometimes I am tempted to wish that these expectations may soon be realized. At others, I wish to stay a little longer, and tell sinners what a precious Saviour Jesus is. But the Lord's will be done. Welcome life, welcome death, welcome any thing, from his hand. The world! oh what a bubble, what a trifle it is! Friends are nothing, fame is nothing, health is nothing, life is nothing! Jesus! Jesus is ALL! Oh, what will it be to spend an eternity in seeing and praising Jesus! to see him as he is; to be satisfied with his likeness! Oh! I long, I pant, I faint with desire to be singing, 'Worthy is the Lamb;' to be extolling the riches of sovereign grace; to be casting the crown at the feet of Christ. And why may we not do all this on earth? My dearest sister, we may do it, if it is not our own fault. Pause a moment, and try to conceive how they feel, and what they are this moment doing, in heaven. Pause and reflect, till you hear their songs, and feel your heart glow with their love. Then shout aloud, Worthy is the Lamb; for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed me by thy blood. Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain, to receive glory, and blessing, and honour, and power.

"I shall not wonder if you think me mad. I have been mad, and am just beginning to see my madness. Oh, how little zeal, how little love, have I manifested! How madly have I misimproved my time and talents! How wretchedly neglected the all-important work to which I am called!

How ungratefully requited the best of Saviours! How often have I called his love and faithfulness in question, at the very time he was taking the best possible measures to promote my happiness! And now he returns, to humble me and shame me for my folly and ingratitude. Oh! I know not how to bear this astonishing, overwhelming goodness. Methinks I could bear his anger, but his love cuts me to the heart. Oh that I may be dumb, and not open my mouth any more, since he is pacified towards me for all that I have done! Oh that for the remainder of my life I could hear of nothing, think of nothing, speak of nothing, but the wonders of his person, his character, and his redeeming love! But unless he prevent it, I shall wander again, and act over again, not only once, but often, all my past sins. It seems now infinitely better to die, than to be guilty of this; but he knows and will do what is best."

"The Sabbath. This day completes three years since my ordination. What a miserable, unprofitable servant have I been! In the afternoon, preached, with much difficulty, from Ezekiel xxxiii. 7—9. Was much affected, and my hearers appeared scarcely less so. Came home excessively fatigued, but rejoicing in God. This year, forty-two souls were gathered into the church."

A few months after the date of the last passage he married Ann Louisa Shipman, a woman of piety, and whose energy, firmness of character, and accomplishments, proved his best earthly support, and a check upon his constitutional tendency to depression. He entered upon this solemn engagement with his wonted ardour of character, but with his habitual sense of dependence upon God.

"We shall be to each other," said he, "just as much as our Maker pleases. He can, and I trust will, render us as happy as it is right we should be in this life, and make us a blessing to each other. With his permission, I purpose to observe Friday, Dec. 7th, as a day of prayer for his blessing upon our union, should he permit it to take place. I trust that your prayers will ascend with mine. I was delighted with what you wrote respecting our precious and adorable Saviour. You cannot find a quicker and surer way to my heart, than by praising and loving him. He is worthy, He is precious indeed. To the power, the majesty, the glory of God, he unites the gentleness, the tenderness, the sympathy of a friend and brother. This is just such a Saviour as we need."

Dr. Payson was remarkably endowed with the spirit of prayer. His audience were always much affected by his prayers, which were strikingly characterised by richness and appropriateness of matter, as well as fervour of utterance. Few persons ever heard him, for the first time, even in his family or on ordinary occasions, without a feeling of wonder, which was enhanced rather than diminished by every repetition of the exercise. To those whose devotions he led for twenty years, in the sanctuary, in the conference-room, by the sick-bed, at festivals, and funerals, every prayer seemed to have all the freshness of originality. His resources for this duty appeared to be inexhaustible. There was something in his prayers, of power to arrest and fix attention; something which seized and absorbed the faculties of the soul, and separated it, for the time being at least, from its connexions with this present evil world." The full, deep, reverent, flexible, suppliant tones of his voice, as far removed from cant as from levity, contributed something to the effect of his public devotions. leading impression which his prayers produced on the hearers, was the infinite disparity which exists between God and the creature. "God is in heaven, and we upon earth," was the great truth which stood forth with distinguished prominence in his invocations, confessions, pleadings, intercessions, and ascriptions of praise. But "the gift of prayer," for which he was so

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eminent, was not attained without corresponding efforts on his part. His journal, through several successive years, records repeated seasons of prayer for almost every day, together with the state of his affections, and the exercise or want of those graces which constitute the "spirit of supplication." When the inventive character of his mind is considered, and its delight in every thing that was original, these records exhibit infallible evidence of his love for devotion; for to an undevout mind they would present nothing but a wearisome monotony. His continuing instant in prayer, be his circumstances what they might, is the most observable fact in his history, and points out the duty of all who would rival his eminence. If prayer, to be successful, must be ardent, so must it be, not fitful, but habitual. Mr. Payson penned some thoughts on public prayer, which, though more immediately addressed to those who do not employ precomposed forms, are of equal value to those who lead the public devotions in the words of our devout and Scriptural Liturgy. He remarks: "The design of public prayer, considered as a part of ministerial duty, is to honour the Being to whom it is addressed, and to excite and direct the devotional feelings of his worshippers. These two objects, though distinct, are inseparably connected, and are to be attained by the same means; for it will ever be found, that that mode of performing the duty of public prayer which is best adapted to promote the honour of God, is also best calculated to excite and direct the devotional feelings of the hearers. That our devotional performances may secure the attainment of these united objects, they must be the echo of a fervently pious heart, guided by a judicious and enlightened mind, to the voice of God, as uttered in his works and his word. An expression of the Psalmist will illustrate my meaning: 'When thou saidst, Seek ye my face; my heart said unto thee, Thy face, Lord, will I seek.' In a similar manner should our public addresses to God be the echo of his language to us. Our adorations and ascriptions of praise should thus respond to what he has revealed of his natural and moral perfections; our confessions, to the charges which he has preferred against us, and to the punishments with which he threatens us; our petitions and intercessions, to his commands, his promises, and the description he has given of our wants and those of our fellow-creatures; and our thanksgivings, to the favours which he has bestowed on ourselves, our countrymen, and our race.

.....

'If the preceding remarks be just, it will be easy to infer from them, what are the principal faults which should be avoided by us, in leading the devotions of our hearers.

"In the first place, I conceive that our devotional performances are too often the language of the understanding, rather than of the heart. It has been observed, that they should be the echo of a fervently pious heart, guided by an enlightened understanding, to the voice of God. It is not, perhaps, uncandid to remark, that our expressions in public prayer are not always guided by an enlightened understanding. But still less frequently, probably, are they the echo of a fervently pious heart, to the voice of God. They too often consist, almost entirely, of passages of Scripture-not always judiciously chosen or well arranged-and common-place phrases, which have been transmitted down for ages from one generation of ministers to another, selected and put together, just as we would compose a sermon or essay while the heart is allowed no share in the performance; so that we may more properly be said to make a prayer, than to pray. The consequence is, that our devotional performances are too often cold and spiritless; for as the heart does not assist in composing, it disdains to aid in uttering them. They have almost as much of a form, as if we made use of a liturgy; while the peculiar excellences of a liturgy are wanting. Our

hearers soon become familiarized to our expressions, and not unfrequently learn to anticipate them; and though they may possibly be instructed, their devotional feelings are not excited.

"From the fulness of a heart overflowing with holy affections, as from a copious fountain, we should pour forth a torrent of pious, humble, and ardently affectionate feelings; while our understandings only shape the channel, and teach the gushing streams of devotion where to flow, and when to stop. In such a prayer, every pious heart among our hearers will join. They will hear a voice and utterance given to their own feelings. They will hear their own desires and emotions expressed more fully and perspicuously than they themselves could express them. Their hearts will spring forward to meet and unite with the heart of the speaker. The well of water, which our Saviour assures us is in all who drink of his Spirit, will rise, and burst its way through the rubbish of worldly cares and affections, which too often choke it; and the stream of devotion from many hearts will unite, and flow on in one broad tide, to the throne of Jehovah ; while with one mind and one mouth both minister and people glorify God. Such was the prayer of Ezra, and such its effects. 'And Ezra blessed the Lord, the great God. And all the people answered, Amen, amen, with lifting up of their hands; and they bowed their heads, and worshipped the Lord with their faces toward the ground.'

To lead the devotion of our people in this manner, will preserve us from another fault, less important indeed, but not less common, than that which has just been mentioned, and which in part is occasioned by it. It consists in uttering the different parts of prayer in the same tone. When our prayers are the language of the understanding only, this will always be done; but not so when they flow from the heart. No person need be informed that in our intercourse with each other a different modification of the voice is employed to express every different emotion of the heart. No one would expect to hear a condemned malefactor plead for his life, and return thanks for a pardon, in the same tone. And why is it not equally unnatural for sinful beings, condemned to eternal death, to plead for pardon, and return thanks for its bestowal, in the same tone? Yet how often is this done! How often do we hear prayers flow on, from the commencement to the close, in the same uniform tone, with scarcely a perceptible inflection of the voice! Yet no two things can differ more widely, than the feelings which are expressed in different parts of the same prayer: surely, then, a corresponding difference ought to be perceived in the modulations of the voice. In every other public expression of our feelings, such a difference is expected and required. The effect of the most eloquent composition would be greatly impaired, not to say wholly destroyed, by a delivery perfectly monotonous. The effects of the same cause upon devotional performances will be similar. Where no fervency of feeling is indicated, it will usually be found that none is excited; and since one principal design of public prayer is to excite the devotional feelings of the hearers, it is evident that a fault which so powerfully tends to defeat this design, cannot be a fault of trifling consequence. I am, however, aware, that in attempting to avoid this fault the exercise of great care, and of much judgment and good taste, is requisite, to preserve us from an affected or theatrical manner, which is a fault much more to be deprecated. Still, I conceive that when we feel as we ought we shall find no difficulty or danger in this respect. Our hearts will then, without any effort on our part, insensibly teach us to express our emotions in a corresponding tone, and in the manner best adapted to excite similar feelings in the breast of our hearers. But if our devotional feelings are habitually languid, if our hearts do not teach our lips, it is, perhaps, advisable to aim at nothing beyond a mono