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the death of the Rev. Mr. Wilson, of Perth, he was chosen, by the Associate Synod, to bc their Professor of Divinity; and was eminently useful in training up a number of excellent young men for the holy ministry, among whom were the Rev. William M.Ewen, of Dundee, and the Rev. John Brown, of Haddington, who is well known in the religious world by his numerous writings; as is'Mr. M.Ewen, by his elegant essays,

Mr. Erskine had a most affectionate regard for his bro. ther Ralph ; and many innocent pleasantries paffed between them. When the news of his brother's death reached him, he faid, with much emotion, “ And is Ralph gone?-He has twice got the start of me; he was in Chrift before me, and he is in Heaven before me too." As he was preaching at Glendovan, on Monday, immediately after the celebration of the Lord's fupper in that parish, and, in the close of his fermon, was pressing home the offer of Christ upon the people, he said, “ You will, perhaps, tell me you cannot believe ? Very true, you cannot; but the offer of Christ to finners is the inean by which they are enabled to receive him; and, if I had a commission from my great Lord and Master, I would offer him to these tocks, and they would antwer me.” He pronounced these laft words with an uncommon elevation of his voice ; and there being an echo in the place, the word rocks was immediately reverberated. The people were so ftruck with this incident, that they all looked back to the rocks which were behind them. During his last illness, and in the intervals of pain, he conversed upon different subjects with great vivacity. One of his elders calling on him, said, * Sir, you have given us many good advices, pray what are you now doing with your own soul?? " I am doing with it," faid he, “ what I did forty years ago : I am refting upon that word, I am the Lord thy God;—and on this I mean to die.”-To lome friends, who were conversing with him one afternoon, he said, “O Sirs, my body is now become a very disagreeable habitation for my foul; but, when my soul goes out of this body, it will as naturally. Hy into the bofom of Christ as a stone will fall towards the centre."--One of his relations, who had come to visit him, said, “Sir, I hope you get, now and then, a blink (glimpse) to bear up your fpirits under your affliction.' “ I know more,” said he, “ of words than of blinks, “ Though he flay me, yet will I trust in him." The coverant is my charter, and if it had not been for that


blessed word, I am the Lord thy God, my hope and Strength had perished from the Lord.” The night on which he died, his eldest daughter was reading in the room where he was; and, after awaking from a flumber, he said, “What book is that you are reading, my dear ?" • It is one of your sermons, Sir.' " What one is it?"

It is the sermon on that text, I am the Lord thy God.' “ O woman,” said he, « that is the best sermon I ever preached.” It was, perhaps, the best to his own soul ; but the sermon will speak for itself, as it has been long in print. A little afterward, he defired his daughter to bring the table and candle near the bed ; after which, with his finger and thumb, he shut his own eyes, and laying his hand below his cheek, breathed out his foul into thc hands of his living Redeemer.

The following Letter to his daughter, Mrs. Scot, a worthy christian, now living in Dalkeith, exhibits a picture of his mind, drawn by himself, while under fore bodily affli&tion :

My dear Alice, My nephew James read me your letter to him yesterday, which brought me under a new sympathy with you on account of the death of your dear uncle Ralph, and the staggering condition of your father. According to the courte of nature, it was my turn to have gone off before him ; but the will of a good and sovereign Lord has determined otherwise, and that I should tarry behind for a while in this

weary wilderness. It seems I am not yet made meet to be a partaker of the inheritance of the saints in light; but need to be more beaten in the wilderness with the hammer of affliction, before I come to the upper temple and fanctuary. But good is the will of the Lord. As for the state of my health, about which you are so anxious, I bless the Lord I have no formed fickness; only I have borne and am still so much afflicted with pain, that I am unable to follow the work of my miniitry. I ain noftly confined to my bed. I sometimes get up; but in a little, I am forced to my bed again through pain, whick abates as to the severity of it, whenever I get to bed again, insomuch that my tottering hand becomes steady, and both body and mind are inore easy. This letter is a proof of what I say, for it is wrote in bed, leaning on my elbow. I could neither have written so inuch nor so well, had I been up, fitting at a table. The Lord makes me to find of mercy on this account, that my bed is made to ease mne, and my couch to confort me: neither am I like poor Job, içared with dreams, nor terrified with nightvifions. Many times my meditations of him are sweet in the filent season of the night. Many, many times the Lord says to me; I am the Lord thy God; and then follows, “O my soul, thou haft said unto the Lord, thou art iny God. Thine am I, O David, and upon thy side will I be, thou son of Jesse." I begin to weary, leaning on my elbow.On Sabbath last, in the afternoon, as the people were very urgent to fee and hear me, I went from my bed to the pulpit; and, after preaching half an hour from these words, “I know that my Redeemer liveth," I returned from the pulpit to my bed again.


Your affectionate father,

EBENEZER ER SKINE. Mr. Erskine's Sermons, printed in his life-time, were republished, in 4 vol. at Edinburgh, in 1761. Another volume was published froin his Manuscripts, several years after his death, by his only surviving fon David, now refiding in Muffelburgh.

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Weston, Dec. 12, 1756. THIS 'HIS day se’ennight I received your obliging Letter and

welcome present. I join with the gentleman whose pen gave us the advertisement, in lamenting the loss which the world has sustained by Mr. Some's death and dying orders. He appears, by this fpecimen, to have been, not only a pious, but a fine writer: an uncommon perípicuity and an elegant fimplicity run through his compositions. If the author of the Christian Oratory, writes as pleasingly, I shall not be weary of reading, though the pages were twice as numerous as they are represented in the proposals. By this manner of expressing myself, you will perceive that I am a stranger to the work; but, as you recommend it, I Thall expect to find a treasure, and desire to have four books in sheets left with Mr. John Rivington, who will pay you, and transmit them to me.

Most heartily I wish you much of the comfort of the Holy Ghost, and all peace and joy in believing. : Jetus, who as the object of our faith, of whom thar blessed Spirit testifies-- Jesus is a name that lightens out burthens, and Tweetens our woes: To his tender love and infinitely rich grace I commit my unknown friend, together with

his affectionate humble fervant, Mr. S. Sheafe,





WORTHY, and others. Mr. Littleworth comes down from Grace-hill farm, near Mapleton, and fits

down in the kitchen, deeply affected. Mr. Lovegood soon afterward

comes in from visiting his parishioners. Mr. Lovegood. WHY. Mr. Littleworth, I am sorry to see you so

much affected-is all well at home? Farmer. Oh, fir, I cannot stand it ; it quite overcomes me.

Loveg. What overcomes you, fir? We should not be “cast down with over' much forrow.”. Upon every event we should learn to say, • Thy will be done.Far. Oh, fir! My son ! my

fon ! Loveg. What, then, is poor Harry dead ?

Far. Dead, 'fir! No; blessed be God : this my son was dead, and is alive again ; he that was loft, and, as I thought, for ever loft, is found again;

and, I trust, found in Christ. · Oh, fir, it so overcomes me, that I think I never shall be able to outlive it! But, blessed be God, come what will of it, I can now say, “ Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation !" The Lord has not only 1aved me, a vile old sinner, and my daughter Nance, but now my dear Harry, is à saved foul. See, fir, what a sweet letter he has sent me. (The farmer gives the letter to Mr. Lovegood.) Here, fir, take and read it, if you please, før I cannot read it again, it so affects me. I was above an hour before I could read it through : I cannot stand it again : besides, you can read better than I. (Mr. Lovegood takes the letter, and reads it.)

« Dear and honoured Father, " It is now full four years since, in a most wicked, disobedient, and rebellious state of mind, I left your house, and entered, as a captain's" clerk, on board the Rambler. I confess you might have heard from me before, but I was ashamed to write. Whenever I thought of it, guilt flew in my face, while I considered how kindly you treated me as your only fon! how you gave me the best education in your power; and which, I am sure, you did out of pure love, and to the best of your judgment; though I confess it laid the foundation of my conduct before you and my God, which must have been my eternal ruin, had not such undeserved mercies prevented, as must for ever fill my heart with praise and glory to my most merciful God and Saviour, Jefus Christ. In that school, my dearest father, I met with those who first secretiy led me into fin. Even when a school-boy, none but God knows the wicked devices of my heart; and as “ evil men and reducers are sure to wax worse and worse, fo it was with me. I look upon my abominable and cruel conduct to you and my dear mother with perpetual abhorrence and grief. I pray you both a thousand and a thousand times to forgive me, as I now truit ihat, vile as I have been, I myfelf am forgiven of God. I shall for ever bless the most merciful name of God, my Saviour and Redeemer, if I find you both alive, should I return to my native fore; for

ain and again have I done enough to bring your grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. Vol. IX.


“ I have

I have oftentimes thought that, by my urgrateful filence, you must; at least in your imagination, have numbered me with the dead; for indeed I have been in deaths often; but a most gracious God would not fuffer me to die, because it was his merciful design to change my heart, and conftrain me to live the rest of my life, I trust, to the glory of his name. Yes, my most kind father, it was all designed by a gracious Providence, that your poor prodigal fon fhould be for a while given over to the devices of his wicked heart, fo as that he should be fent far from home to be brought near to him. I fear, the word of life, which has fince then been made known to me, is but little known in the neighbourhood in which I received my hirth and education. O, my dear parents, I want now only to live, that I may impart unto you how I have been converted from my vile ways, and have been contrained to live to God; and you may rely upon it, while I am enabled to depend on him, that I thall never grieve your dear hearts any more. Christ's love to me has made me love him ; and now I love you most dearly for his name's fake.

“ Your once rebellious but now affectionate fon, moft humbly requests that neither you, nor my dear mother, would blame yourselves that I had pot froin you a better example before I went to sea. Few in our parts knew or did better, nor yet fo well; for I fear the knowledge and love of God was then sadly wanting among us all. A few months before I went to sea, I heard of a Mr. Lovegood, who was presented to the living of Lower Brookfield, and was much ridiculed for his religious zeal; and I semember we all, especially my sisters, used to join in the general laugh against him. Now as this is the common lot of all good men, I hope you will find him a faithful and upright minister of the Gospel, My dear father, do, for your own foul's sake, for the Lord Jesus Christ's fake, go and hear him. (Here Mr. Laurgood is so much affceled, that he joins witk she Farmer, and aveejis abundantly. Afier several attempts, he continues the letter.) Perhaps he may adininifter to your soul those precious words of the Gospel of Christ which have proved the power of God to my salvation ; though once, as you well know, to the grief of your heart, the vilest, che moli abandoned wretch that ever lived on the earth. I should be glad, if I had time, to tell you all the most merciful fieps in judgment, providence, and grace, that have brought my vile heart to repent and re, Burn to God; but the packet is likely to fail every hour which will take this to England ; and it is fuppofed, in about a fortnight afterwards, our little Heat will fail for Portsinouth; fo that wishin a month or five weeks after you receive this, you may expect to fee your most unduziful and ungrateful ciuild upon his knecs before you, begging pardon for all his bafe behaviour to you and my dear mother; and though I shall bring home but a very scanty fare of prize-money, yti, if I can bat bring to my dear parents the inestiinable prize of the knowlege of Christ, that pearl of great price ! how joyful thall I be ! As to the small sum that may fall to my Jot, the moment I see you I shall tell you it must be yours ; for, as I have confolid the fin with much grief before the Lord,

now confefs it before you : That when I used to go to markets and fairs, unknown to you, I too often kept back a part of the price of the things I fold; and, 19. a few other instances, the money for which I fold your goods, I cutirely kept to inytelf. I am very happy that it is now a little in my power to make reftitucion ; while I hope I thall in a meafure earn my daily bread by applying myself diligently to the bufiness of your farın, as foon as I hall receive my discharge, which is promised me on account of the wound I received in my hip, by a splinter from the shrip, in an engagement with the enginy; whereby' I had nearly been fent


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