the Lord, and as an act of worship, accompanied by a hymn of praise. David danced also, but it was in like manner, and from like motives. Herod's daughter danced, but she was a Heathen, and the cause of beheading a servant of God. Nothing therefore which I found in Scripture countenanced dancing in any measure. I then began to consider the objections urged against it. One of these was, that as it tends to levity and trifling mirth, so it enervates the mind, dissipates the thoughts, weakens, if not stifles, serious and good impressions; and quite indisposes the mind for prayer. I asked my own heart, Is not this a truth? Conscience answered in the affirmative. Mr. Simpson pleads farther, What good is promoted hereby? I would gladly have had it to urge, it promotes health; but many instances of those who had lost health, and even life, within my own knowledge, through attending this very diversion, would not permit this. Among others, I had a recent proof in Miss H

who by a violent cold and surfeit got at an assembly, was thrown into a galloping consumption, and in a few months fled to an awful eternity. Again he pleads, are you made better Christians, better husbands, better children hereby? Better Christians I was conscious none could be, for having the mind dissipated, and unfitted for prayer. Some husbands I knew who were not made better, and some wives, who, to support extravagant dress on such occasions, had greatly injured their families. For my own part, I was conscious it had led me to dress and to expenses not suited to my present situation in life. These thoughts brought powerful convictions to my mind, notwithstanding my desire to resist them. I could not deny that truth in particular, that those who habitually attend such pleasure, lose all relish for spiritual things; God is shut out of their thoughts and hearts; prayer,

they use any, is full of wanderings, or perhaps wholly neglected; and death put as far as possible out of sight, lest the thought should spoil their pleasures. I was conscious beyond a doubt, these were the fruits this delusive pleasure had wrought in my own soul and comparing my present state of mind with what it was before I entered upon this diversion, so mistakenly called innocent, I found cause to be deeply ashamed. But then, if this is really true, (said I to myself,) I ought not to follow this amusement any longer. And can I give it up? My vile heart replied, I cannot, I will not. The Spirit of God whispered, Will you then indulge yourself in what you know to be sin? Would you wish to be struck dead in the ball room? My conflict was great, yet I was resolved to run all hazards rather than give up this pleasure. Therefore I stifled these convictions with all my might; and after this ran more eagerly than ever into all pleasurable follies. Oh my patient, long suffering God, tears of grateful love and praise over. flow mine eyes, when I consider my deep rebellion, and thy sparing mercy.

About this time I grew tired of novels, and took great delight in reading history. I went through several English and Roman histories, Rollin's Ancient History, and Stackhouse's History of the Bible, intending to go through the Universal History also. And now I believed myself far wiser than any person of my age. Upon the whole, I believe I was at this time on the pinnacle of destruction. And had a just and holy God then cut the brittle thread of life, I know I should have sunk into hell. But love had swifter wings than death, and mercy to my rescue flew.

In October, 1773, a neighbour of my mother's being very ill, and very poor, I went to visit her, and found her, to my great surprise, joyfully tri

umphing over death, yea, longing to be gone.This affected me much; for I felt I was in a quite different state; that if death should approach me, he would be a king of terrors. And I had no hopes of happiness beyond the grave. About this time also, Mr. Simpson's sermons began to sink more deeply into my heart. So great were my obstinacy and folly, that I would come out of the church weeping, and with the next person I met, would ridicule the sermon that affected me, lest I should be thought or called a Methodist. I began, however, in my serious moments, to resolve again and again I would break off my sins by true repentance; and especially that I would dance no more. Yet time after time I was prevailed on by my carnal friends, and broke the promises I had made to my God.

January the first, 1774, I was deeply wrought upon by a sermon preached on, "What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" And soon after, under another, on the Epistle to the church of Laodicea. Again, while Mr. Simpson preached on the new birth, from John iii, 3, I saw, and felt as I had never done before, that I must experience that divine change, or perish. But I had still one great hinderance which I have not yet mentioned, namely, a young person, for whom I had a sincere affection: he and two of his sisters, with whom I had also formed a strict intimacy from the death of my father, were my constant companions; and were more seriously disposed than any of the rest. However, I was sensible, if I renounced my pleasures, and became what God and my own conscience now required, I must, in the first place, give him up, and that fully; or he would be the means of drawing me back; for he was yet unawakened, though outwardly moral.

But I could not yet make this sacrifice. There. fore I continued to go to assemblies, though conscience bled; and often in the midst of the dance, I felt as miserable as a creature could be, with a sense of guilt, and fears of death and hell. Sometimes those words were applied, "It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks." And indeed so I felt it. Yet I would not acknowledge my unhap piness to any, but carried it off with the appearance of gayety; and at the last assembly I ever attended, never sat down the whole night, but danced till four o'clock in the morning. Soon after this, however, the Lord wrought a much deeper work upon my soul.

In April, 1774, on the Sunday before Easter, Mr. Simpson preached from John vi, 44, "No man can come unto me, except the Father which hath sent me draw him." Explaining the drawings of the Father, he related his own experience, under the name of Eusebius, brought up in all moral duties, an attendant on church and sacrament, and one who said many prayers. Yet when twenty-two years old, was deeply convinced he had never been a Christian. Could then say feelingly, what he had often before repeated in words only, "The remembrance of my sins is grievous unto me: The burden of them is intolerable."-[All this sunk into my very soul; this was just my case.] He mourned, and wept, and prayed! And one day as he was in prayer, and had such a view of his past sinfulness, and present guilt and pollution, as almost deprived him of all hope, the Lord suddenly removed his burden, and spoke pardon and peace to his soul, so that he felt his sins were all forgiven. Lord, said I, if this is truth, (and I cannot disbelieve it,) never let me rest till I obtain a like blessing. He went on to observe the nature of this change, and the objections made in our day to this

doctrine of the new birth. One of these objections he dwelt upon, viz: "We are born again when baptized;" but proved, if it were even so, we must still repent anew, and be forgiven, since all have broken the baptismal vow. Then he appealed to each; "Have you renounced the devil and all his works, the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, with every sinful desire?" while I could only plead guilty, guilty. "Have you never taken the name of God in vain? never profaned his Sabbaths? never set up idols in your heart? If you have done these things you have broken the first four commandments of God." I pleaded guilty here also: for though with respect to the third, I could not accuse myself of profanely swearing, or even naming my Maker in conversation, as many do; yet this prohibition also condemned me, in having taken the name of God in vain into my polluted lips in his house of worship, and appearing before men engaged in devotion, while my heart was wander. ing to the ends of the earth. As he passed through the rest of the commandments, I could still plead nothing but guilty. And when in the application of his sermon he asked, "Now what think you of the state of your souls before God?" I felt myself indeed a lost, perishing, undone sinner: a rebel against repeated convictions and drawings; a rebel against light and knowledge; a condemned criminal by the law of God, who deserved to be sentenced to eternal pain! I felt I had broken my baptismal vow; my confirmation vow; my sacramental vows; and had no title to claim any mercy, any hope, any plea! I wept aloud, so that all around me were amazed; nor was I any longer ashamed to own the cause. I went home, ran up stairs, and fell on my knees; and made a solemn vow to renounce and forsake all my sinful pleasures and trifling companions.