All over glorious, is our Lord, To be admired, and yet ador’d: _His_ worth, if all the nations knew, I’m sure the world would love _him_ too.
Grace and peace be to you. The wise and good, but solemn providence of God, having deprived me of the public opportunity of comforting my afflicted friends, I have no other means of doing it, but by a few lines, about the best, the most import, and precious objects, which will take eternity itself, fully to unfold. You, doubtless, must lament with me, the narrowness of our minds, in receiving the most blessed things, with _the_ intrusion of necessary business—_the_ cares of life—_the_ heavy conflicts we have also to experience, with many painful visits from the enemy of our souls—_the_ native reluctant of the body, and _the_ pressure of many trying thoughts. _These_ hinder our running the heavenly race, _these_ keep us down, so that we cannot rise in heavenly mindedness; and a sense of our past sins, makes us ready to halt, so that we cannot walk comfortably. But though this is our case, yet blessed be God, we are not in despair, nor are we out of the promise: They that wait on the Lord, shall renew their strength; and blessed are all they that wait for me. This made David deliver this charge: _My soul_, _wait thou only on God_, _for my expectation is from him_. What, alas! should we do without the promises? Grace made them, but the hand of divine truth is to make them good. Our wants, woes, and miseries, were all known and consulted, by the adorable trinity; and dark as we are about the mystery of God, all is clear to himself. But I lament, I feel a proneness to judge of the Lord, by carnal reason, and this is like judging of an unfinished picture, by the original. We must stay till it is finished: or, like judging of a watch, when it is all in pieces; we may admire it when put together. I often catch myself at this work, especially when I am very low, nervous, and tried in mind, temper, and providence. This is very carnal. May the blessed spirit quicken faith to rise, and wing its way to eternal love, eternal grace, eternal mercy, and eternal kindness. This is its proper element: here we are at home; here is liberty, peace, joy, and satisfaction. Here we see infinite wisdom, contriving a _time_ when, a _place_ where, and a _manner_ how merciful kindness, and melting pity should be manifested. Here we see every sweet attribute harmonize, and every grace displayed, while the cross of your dear lovely, loving Saviour appears truly glorious. See the cluster of excellencies around it, hymning its praises, with harps of love. _Faith_ begins the song; _hope_, full of immortality joins; _loves_ notes are clearly heard; _joy_ is sweetly provoked to help repentance with her deep sounding notes. _Zeal_ most cheerfully moves her fingers on the harp, while _fear_, more silently, more reverently touches the strings. _Patience_ most meekly assists, and _humility_ sounds her simple airs; yet there is not one discordant string. Angels listen, and the redeemed above, beckon us home to the general assembly, that all may bear in the chorus. And this will be the burden of the song; worthy is the lamb that was slain: but why the Lamb? but because, in _him_, and in _his_ love, person and work, all the glory of the God of grace is most eminently displayed.