CCCXXXIX. — To the Same.

My Dear Lady,London, March 3, 1769.

To be incapable of sympathizing with the distressed is not a desirable state. Nor would one wish to extirpate either sorrow or any other of our natural passions. And yet it is both possible and highly desirable to attain the same experience with the Marquis de Renty, who, on occasion of his lady’s illness, told those who inquired how he could bear it, "I cannot say but my nature is deeply affected with the apprehension of so great a loss. And yet I feel such a full acquiescence in the will of God, that, were it proper, I could dance and sing."

I have heard my mother say, "I have frequently been as fully assured that my father’s spirit was with me, as if I had seen him with my eyes." But she did not explain herself any further. I have myself many times found on a sudden so lively an apprehension of a deceased friend, that I have sometimes turned about to look: At the same time I have felt an uncommon affection for them. But I never had anything of this kind with regard to any but those that died in faith. In dreams, I have had exceeding lively conversations with them; and I doubt not but they were then very near.

It gives me pleasure to hear, that you did not neglect our own preaching, in order to attend any other. The hearing Mr. F. at other times, I do not know that any could blame; unless you found it unsettled your mind, or weakened your expectation of an entire deliverance from sin. And this, I apprehend, it did not.

You never "take up too much of my time." To converse with you, even in this imperfect way, is both agreeable and useful to me. I love your spirit, and it does me good. I trust, God will still give you that hunger and thirst after righteousness, till you are satisfied therewith. And who knows how soon?

I am, my dear Lady,