LETTER S.

I.

TO THE BAPTIST CHURCH, BROADMEAD, BRISTOL.

Old Aberdeen, King's College, Dec. 4, 1783.*

DEAR AND HONoured Brethren,

I DULY received your affectionate letter, in which you expressed your desire of engaging my labours as an assistant minister. Your request does me honour, and confers upon me an obligation which no efforts of mine can fully discharge. Yet, young and inexperienced as I am, I tremble to think of engaging in so arduous a work, especially in a situation where all my incapacity will be donbly felt. I cannot but think a few years would be necessary to enable me to gratify the lowest expectations. To plunge into the midst of life at so tender an age, with so little experience and so small a stock of knowledge, almost terrifies me. Your candid judgment of my past services I acknowledge with a mixture of pleasure and surprise, pleased to attain the approbation of the wise and good, and surprised I in any measure have attained it, which I can attribute to nothing but the tenderness and forbearance which have ever strongly marked your conduct.

A retired and private sphere would indeed be more upon a level with my abilities, and congenial to my temper; yet I would willingly sacrifice my private inclinations to more important views, and lose sight of myself if I could benefit others. My reluctance, therefore, to obey your call arises merely from a feeling of my weakness, and my secret fear lest you should hereafter have occasion to repent it. If you could have dispensed with my labours till the final close of my studies, I might then have hoped to have been more able to serve you; but if not, I submit. Let me but crave your prayers, that as my day so my strength may be. Your welfare, honoured brethren, will ever lie near my heart; numberless reflections concur with a thousand tender recollections of past kindness to keep it there. But these are not my only inducements to embrace your proposals. It is an additional pleasure to me when I reflect with whom I have the honour to be connected,-with one whom I most sincerely reverence, and to whom I am bound by every tie of affection and gratitude.† I hope i

Mr. Hall was at this time in his twentieth year.

† Dr. Caleb Evans.

undertake this work in the fear of God, and look forward to that awfu day when all these solemn transactions shall be reviewed, and every secret motive that entered into them will be brought to light. Wishing you, dear brethren, all prosperity, and that you may be "steadfast in that day," I subscribe myself yours, &c.

ROBERT HALL, Jun.

II.

TO THE REV. ISAIAH BIRT, PLYMOUTH.

Dear Sir, Cambridge, Feb. 5, 1791. I have frequently thought it something remarkable, that you and I nave had an intimate acquaintance for many years, and yet that we nave scarcely exchanged a letter. Our frequent occasional interviews have formerly rendered this less necessary; but now that I shall probably be settled in a distant situation, and an opportunity of seeing each other may seldom occur, I cannot satisfy myself without requesting a stated correspondence. You will excuse my earnestness to solicit this, when you recollect that it is the effect of that fixed and wellfounded esteem I always did, and always shall bear you. I will communicate to you, not the incidents of the day or of the week, for my time at present slides away without incident, but the inward sentiments of my heart, and the trifles, serious or gay, that spring up there; happy if I can imagine for a moment I am conversing with you as we did in the days of yore, when, without care or sorrow, we sauntered in the fields near Bristol. Ah, happy days, never to return again! I am at present at Cambridge, in the element of peace at least, if not of happiness; and indeed, after the tumults of strife and din of parties, quiet itself seems happiness.

Perhaps you may wish to be informed of some particulars relating to my present situation. It is, on the whole, happy. The people seem very harmonious, and much united to me. I could wish their sentiments were more orthodox, though the far greater part of them are sufficiently so. They who are not seem very ready to hear cool, dispassionate reasoning on the other side of the question. I have tried their pulse several times since I have been here. On the first Sabbath of my arrival, I preached in the morning on Heb. ix. 13-" How much more shall the blood of Christ, who, through the eternal Spirit, offered himself without spot to God," &c.-an entirely controversial sermon in defence of the atonement. I had the satisfaction of finding few, very few, who did not acknowledge the justice of my reflections, and that they who were not convinced were not displeased. I should be cappy if Providence should make me an humble instrument of with

standing the dangerous errors that are in vogue, and of preventing or lessening their growth at least, in the place where Providence may appoint my lot. I intend very soon to preach a sermon professedly on the divinity of Jesus Christ. This and the atonement I am more and more convinced lie at the foundation of the true system of vital religion; nor will sinners ever be converted to God by a ministry that excludes them. I hope I am not censorious; but I am persuaded that much of the liberality so much talked of is rather a fashionable cant than any genuine candour of heart. At present I am a boarder, and shall continue so, in case I should stay here, for some time. I have free access to all the libraries gratis, by means of acquaintance in the university.

Pray write soon, very soon.

I am yours affectionately,

ROBERT HALL.

III.

ACCEPTING THE PASTORAL CHARGE OF THE BAPTIST CHURCH AT CAMBRIDGE.

To the Church lately under the pastoral care of Mr. Robinson:

Dear Brethren,

I am truly sensible of the honour you have done me in inviting me to the pastoral office among you. I am convinced of my inability adequately to discharge its arduous duties; but relying on your can dour and the hopes of superior assistance, I will attempt it to the best of my power, and beg an interest in your prayers, that my endeavours for your spiritual improvement may be succeeded, and that I may be able to commend myself to every man's conscience in the sight of God. I remain your affectionate friend and brother,

Cambridge, July 23, 1791. .

ROBERT HALL

IV.

TO MISS WILKINS,

AFTERWARD MRS. FYSH, OF CAMBERWELL.

Dear Madam,

I hope you will excuse the liberty that friendship dictates, of sending you these lines. The interest you possess in the affections of your friends, and their solicitude for your happiness, render it impossible VOL. III.-O

they should hear of your affliction without deeply sympathizing with you. Among these I beg leave to have the honour of classing myself; and though least, not last. I was the other day at Mr. W- 's, and was informed you still continued extremely indisposed. I immediately determined to take the liberty of writing, to express my esteem and sympathy. I upbraid myself heavily for not having snatched an opportunity of seeing you before I left Bristol; and had I foreseen the prolongation of your illness, I certainly would not have omitted it. From me, who have suffered so much, it would be unpardonable if distress of every kind did not extort a tear,-much more when the sufferer is a friend whose virtues and talents I respect and admire. This world is indeed a scene of suffering; and it ought, in some measure, to reconcile us to our lot, that in feeling distress we strike chords in unison with the whole universe. Adversity is capricious in its times and seasons; but its visitations, sooner or later, never fail. In some, it overwhelms the first hopes of life, so that they no sooner begin to taste felicity in prospect, than they are crossed with hopeless disappointment: others it permits to advance further, waits till they spread the foundations of happiness deep and wide, that, just when they have nearly finished the superstructure, it may overwhelm them with a more extensive desolation. Some are racked with pains and agonies of body; and others are preys to disappointed passions and blasted hopes, wasted with devouring regrets, and sick at heart with melancholy retrospects; wishing in vain they could arrest the wings of time, and put the current of life back. Of all these classes, every individual thinks his misfortunes the greatest. For the same reason we are never at a loss to hear our own voice, be it ever so slender: the cry of a pierced heart sounds shrill in the solitary ear of the sufferer. Since we cannot essentially meliorate, let us endeavour to allay, our anguish by moderating our expectations. I am persuaded all we can reasonably hope for on this side the grave is tranquillity,-not the insensibility of a statue, but the placidity of a well-informed mind, relying on the promises and cheering prospects of immortality. But why do I thus address one who is as well acquainted with every subject of Christian consolation as I can pretend to [be?] I am persuaded you will edify your friends as much by your patience in affliction as you have enlivened them in better days by the exercise of your sprightlier powers. Virtue is always consistent, and guided by its dictates you will never fail to be an example. This scene of suffering will not always last, nor do we suffer "as those without hope." It is, indeed, the night of nature, a short night, and not utterly dark: it will soon pass away, and be succeeded by a bright and endless day. Eneas comforts his companions in the midst of distress, by telling them that the retrospect of their sufferings will hereafter be delightful to them. Whether we shall in this world be indulged with such a satisfaction 1 know not; but surely it will be a source of the most pleasing reflection in a happier world.

Of Bishop Leighton, whose sermons I wish you to read, Bishop Burnet declares, that during a strict intimacy of many years, he never