were fairly, handled at all. Justification, in a sense, took the place of sanctification,-a place which it can in no sense occupy, -and the whole fabric of truth was disarranged. What was the effect upon their own souls? Most sad, as might have been expected. The Holy Spirit was grieved, and He showed that He was, by withdrawing His consolatory influences. None of us were happy.

You see I am forced in very faithfulness to include myself. We none of us were peaceful, in the true sense of the word,—a state of mind somewhat like a sick man bolstered up in his bed by false supports, not quietly reclining on the bosom of a gracious, but holy, Father, was the consequence. Such doctrines were the strong cordials on which we lived, but unless these were always administered, we sank, a sure proof of a weak and unhealthy state of soul. But, dear friend, bread is the staff of life, not stimulants; a crucified Jesus is the spiritual aliment of a truly hungry soul-not high-seasoned dishes; and even the Crucified One is not the ultimate end that I have in view. I live upon a Christ received, not merely that I may be safe, but that I may walk with God as a duteous, pardoned child.

All those to whom I refer, positively disliked (with few exceptions) practical preaching. The effect of high cordials not being corrected by the wholesome admixture of preceptive exhortations soon produced baneful effects: a high and lofty spirit, conceit of superior wisdom, looking down upon others, imagining that no one preached the Gospel but themselves— were the necessary consequences. At that time by the secret humbling power of the Holy Spirit I made a partial escape, preaching that sermon, John xvii. 17, and, of course, was thought legal and in bondage. What was the effect? The Holy Spirit showed He was grieved by further withdrawing His light. His distinct personality and personal Deity were eventually denied, and all was in confusion. The world was conformed to, and, in some sad instances, the same breach upon a sanctified profession, as in the case of Dr. D: and all this (as I fully believe) arose from an undervaluing the Holy Spirit

as the sanctifier of the Church of God-from the forgetfulness that happiness cannot, in the very nature of things, arise to a prisoner merely from liberty and freedom from condemnation; for although at the first these things are necessary, yet he must eventually have a well regulated mind, a mind capable of receiving the elements of happiness, or he may be as miserable out of prison as he was in it, though not from the same cause; in other words, that mere pardon and justification cannot make me happy unless (as their blessed effects) the Holy Spirit sanctifies me by them, and makes me truly happy in walking with God. (Ps. cxix. 6, 165.)

:

This, dear friend, was the secret of none of those being happy to whom I refer, and it may be in your case the very same. I place all this before you in sincerity. I thought I saw in your conversation some of the elements of mischief to the soul, that I once discovered in others, and had such subsequent cause to deplore in myself. The doctrines of grace are the joy of my heart in the view of a near eternity; but truth is like the physician's prescription take away some of the ingredients and nothing can be more destructive of health. Happiness is necessarily in some real, though most imperfect, measure (it will ever be so), in conformity to the mind of God. As I walk with Him, and in proportion as this is the case, I am happy,-no further. In order to this I must live on Christ; the last is the means, the first is the end; both ought ever to be before me. I trust that the blessed Spirit may, in great power, direct both our minds on this most momentous subject, our hearts into the love of it. It is the pathway to peace (Phil. iv. 6), it is the path, the only path, to heaven. (Heb. xii. 14.)

Your's in sincere Christian regard,

JAMES H. EVANS.

TO HIS DAUGHTER IN INDIA.

Hampstead, January 17, 1848.

MY BELOVED C-You are now at Tezpore once again, in your new house-have long since settled the important arrangement of this and that article of furniture-found some things too short, some too long, and others that will not do at all.

Some conversations have already been commenced, about sending to Calcutta for things absolutely indispensable, while second thoughts have more prudentially prevailed, that after all we can do without them. You have admired the view, and thought that if Papa could but see it he would admire it too. There are more peeps of the river and of the mountains than you had anticipated, and the house seems so dry, compared with the other, and so much more healthy for the bairns. Thus the wheel turns round, and what is, has been, and shall be again. Your poor father knows all about this, for he has done the same, or nearly the same, and there is nothing new under the sun. The wheel turns round, but the axle is immutable. These little things occupy us for a while necessarily, and sometimes very unnecessarily; and then they do so sinfully, but engage our thoughts they will, they must, they ought. It is our fault if they engage our hearts. To have the heart right with God is the grand secret; would that I had learnt it, but it is great mercy to be learning it, and that through grace we are; and it would be ungrateful to deny it, and not truth either. We must take good care of two things: first, to take every failure to the cross, and there confess it without excuse, trusting to 1 John i. 9, or rather to Him over whose head we confess the sin, and in Him whose faithfulness to His own promises cannot deceive us; next, to trace up every, even the least, desire after God, to the free, unmerited love of a gracious Father, who is by His Spirit thus drawing the heart of His child to Himself.

We too often overlook the minor influences of the Spirit. We acknowledge His enlivening, gladdening, soul-elevating influences, but overlook His humbling us, laying us low, taking us once again to the cross, and stripping us bare before God. But is not the one as precious as the other? Self-loathing is one of the sure marks of a spiritual, Spirit-taught mind.

Your dearest mother is now writing by my side, partially, but not wholly, recovered from her late attack. Severe, indeed, it was. I do not say this as if He were severe who sent it; most kind is He, and gentle and tender and good. We have both been to town to-day in our new carriage, of which she has given

you a full and particular account. Sometimes the thought will rise, whether I will or not, I wonder whether my own Cwill ever enter it, but I banish such thoughts as I can, seeing Ps. lxxxiv. 11 is most certainly true, whether I ever see your face again or no; yet nature will feel.

TO HIS DAUGHTER IN INDIA.

J. H. EVANS.

Hampstead, Jan. 31, 1848.

MY BELOVED CHILD,-This being Monday, my weariness might well be an excuse for my silence; but love takes up the pen, and I will attempt to scribble my little letter. As my health so wonderfully improves, my work in proportion increases, and therefore, my child, as I am not my own, but the Lord's, as His servant it is possible that I sometimes may be so engaged in His blessed service, I may necessarily be so occupied, as that my letters may be curtailed, not in number, but in size and quantity of matter. You will not, therefore, when this is so, grudge if sometimes the lines are wider asunder than they were wont to be; that which may appear to be taken from you, is but given to Him whom you love best of all. We never lose by giving Him His own. How dear you are to me, you are quite conscious of, and He knows far better than yourself. But our time is short, we have much to do, and little time to do it in; therefore we must be up and doing, like men that are in haste; and though I do not think the coming of the Lord to be so near as some, yet would I live as if He were to come to-morrow.

Dear C-S leaves his quiet home to-day, and comes with R- C▬▬ to Bristol, from which (D. v.) the latter sails, or rather steams, to Ireland, and the former comes on to us, making our house his home till his dear wife and children come to town, as their permanent dwelling-place. Dear man, I almost pity him his leaving his quiet nest for the stormy region of London, and should quite, did I not see it to be the will of his Heavenly Father that he should remove, and did I not humbly believe that he, through God's grace, will be a great blessing to us. Be much in prayer with your dear J

for us

both. I consider that his coming amongst us will prove a great turning-point in my life, for, entre nous, there are but few with whom I could happily consort, and with no one very different from himself. What a thing it is to be old and long rooted! Lord, bend me to Thy will! Thou art very pitiful and of tender mercy, and rememberest that we are dust, for thou knowest our frame. I write in haste, therefore my blunders may be not a few; but I make none in subscribing myself, dearest C

Your fondly attached father and sincere friend,

J. H. EVANS.

P.S.-Your letter has this moment arrived. It seems almost as if we were at Gowhatty. In answer to some of your points, I would reply, that the witness of the Holy Spirit is most found in holy walking, and prayerfully noting the real state of my heart when I am alone with God. When the water is disturbed the gold at the bottom is not so clearly seen. not so clearly seen. I profess to love Jesus. Why? Is it not that, being washed in His blood, I may walk with Thee, O God? Thou knowest; and soon, when the soul is in that frame, God will cause you to know also, that this is the distinctive mark of His children. Nature may talk well of the blood of Christ, but only grace desires to be sanctified by it. Nature may desire to escape from hell, but grace only desires to live for heaven. One real look at Christ is saving. (Isa. xlv. 22; John iii. 15.) Oh, instead of doubting, believe what God says. It is in believing, evidences multiply, not in doubting. I hesitate not to say, that while you may have a thousand evidences of the flesh, known to yourself and to God, you have a thousand evidences of adoption; and one real evidence is worth a thousand worlds. Nourish faith, do not weaken it. Be very thankful for the least, then add to it. (2 Pet. i. 5.) The least is saving. Weak lamps require much care. Put your hand over the feeble light, then seek for more oil.

Ever your's,

J. H. EVANS.