since; long intervals of darkness, interrupted by short returns of peace and joy in believing!" His excellent physician, ever watchful and apprehensive for his welfare, now became alarmed, lest the sudden transition, from despair to joy, should wholly overpower his mind; but the Lord was his strength and his song, and had become his salvation. Christ was now formed in his heart, the hope of glory; his fears were all dispelled; despair, with its horrid train of evils, was banished from his mind; a new and delightful scene was now opened before him; he became the subject of new affections, new desires, and new joys; in a word, old things were passed away, and all things were become new. God had brought him up out of the horrible pit, and out of the miry clay, and had put a new song into his mouth, even praise to his God. He felt the full force of that liberty, of which he afterwards so sweetly sung "A liberty unsung, By poets, and by senators unpraised, E'en liberty of heart, derived from heaven; The apprehensions of Dr. C. soon subsided; he saw with delight undoubted proofs of his patient's perfect recovery, became satisfied with the soundness of his cure, and subsequently had much sweet communion with him in conversing about the great things of salvation. He now visited him every morning, as long as he remained under his care, which was near twelve months after his recovery, and the gospel was invariably the delightful theme of their conversation. The patient and the physician became thus every day more endeared to each other; and Cowper often afterwards looked back upon this period, as among the happiest days he had ever spent. His time no longer hung heavily upon his hands; but every moment of it that he could command was employed in seeking to acquire more comprehensive views of the gospel. The Bible became his constant companion; from this pure fountain of truth he drank of that living water, which was in him a well of water, springing up into everlasting life. Conversation on spiritual subjects afforded him a high degree of enjoyment. Many delightful seasons did he spend thus employed, while he remained with his beloved physician. His first transports of joy having subsided, a sweet serenity of spirit succeeded, uninterrupted by any of those distressing sensations which he had before experienced; prayer and praise were his daily employment; his heart overflowed with love to his Redeemer, and his meditation of him was sweet. In his own expressive and beautiful lines, he felt have long been endeared by their own intrinsic ex- And seem by thy sweet bounty made There, if thy Spirit touch the soul, Oh, with what peace, and joy, and love, There like the nightingale she pours Nor asks a witness of her song, His letters, written about this period, as wel. as those of a subsequent date, abound with proofs of his deep acquaintance with Christian experience. The following remarks are taken from a letter to Mrs. Cowper "The deceitfulness of the natural heart is inconceivable. I know well that I passed among my friends for a person at least religiously inclined, if not actually religious; and what is more wonderful, I thought myself a Christian when I had no faith in Christ, and when I saw no beauty in him that I should desire him; in short, when I had neither faith, nor love, nor any Christian grace whatever, but a thousand seeds of rebellion instead, evermore springing up in enmity against him; but, blessed be the God of my salvation, the hail of affliction and rebuke has swept away the refuge of lies. It pleased the Almighty, in great mercy, to set all my misdeeds before me. At length, the storm being past, a quick and peaceful serenity of soul succeeded, such as ever attends the gift of a lively faith in the all-sufficient atonement, and the sweet sense of mercy and pardon purchased by the blood of Christ. Thus did he break me and bind me up; thus did he wound me and make me whole. This, however, is but a summary account of my conver sion; neither would a volume contain the astonishing particulars of it. If we meet again in this world, I will relate them to you; if not, they will serve for the subject of a conference in the next, where, I doubt not, we shall remember, and record them with a gratitude better suited to the subject." In another letter to his amiable and accomplished cousin, Lady Hesketh, he thus writes. "Since the visit you were so kind as to pay me in the Temple, "Ere yet mortality's fine threads gave way, (the only time I ever saw you without pleasure,) A clear escape from tyrannizing sin, And full immunity from penal woe." what have I not suffered? And since it has pleased God to restore me to the use of my reason, what His application to the study of the Scriptures have I not enjoyed? You know by experience how must at this time have been intense; for in the short pleasant it is to feel the first approaches of health space of twelve months he acquired comprehensive after a fever; but oh! the fever of the brain! to and scriptural views of the great plan of redemp- feel the quenching of that fire, is indeed a blessing tion; and, in addition to this, his conceptions of real which I think it impossible to receive without the Christian experience, as distinguished from delu- most consummate gratitude. Terrible as this chassion and hypocrisy, were accurate and striking, and tisement is, I acknowledge in it the hand of infisuch as one would only have expected from an ex- nite justice; nor is it at all more difficult for me to perienced Christian. He now composed two hymns, perceive in it the hand of infinite mercy; when I which exhibit an interesting proof of the scriptural consider the effect it has had upon me, I am excharacter of those religious views he had then em-ceedingly thankful for it, and esteem it the greatest braced. These hymns he himself styles specimens of his first Christian thoughts. Delightful specimens indeed they are; and the circumstances under which they were composed will greatly enhance their value in the minds of those to whom they blessing, next to life itself, I ever received from the divine bounty. I pray God I may ever retain the sense of it, and then I am sure I shall continue to be, as I am at present, really happy. My affliction has taught me a road to happiness, which, without it, I should never have found; and I know, and | gence, but when my reason was restored to me, and have experience of it every day, that the mercy of God to the believer is more than sufficient to compensate for the loss of every other blessing. You will believe that my happiness is no dream, because I have told you the foundation on which it is built. What I have written would appear like enthusiasm to many, for we are apt to give that name to every warm affection of the mind in others, which we have not experienced ourselves; but to you, who have so much to be thankful for, and a temper inclined to gratitude, it will not appear so." To the same lady, a day or two afterwards, he writes"How naturally does affliction make us Christians! and how impossible is it, when all human help is vain, and the whole earth too poor and trifling to furnish us with one moment's peace, how impossible is it then to avoid looking at the gospel! It gives me some concern, though at the same time it increases my gratitude to reflect, that a convert made in Bedlam is more likely to be a stumbling-block to others than to advance their faith. But if it have that effect upon any, it is owing to their reasoning amiss, and drawing their conclusion from false premises. He who can ascribe an amendment of life and manners, and a reformation of the heart itself, to madness, is guilty of an absurdity, that in any other case would fasten the imputation of madness upon himself; for, by so doing, he ascribes a reasonable effect to an unreasonable cause, and a positive effect to a negative. But when Christianity only is to be sacrificed, he that stabs deepest is always the wisest man. You, my dear cousin, yourself, will be apt to think I carry the matter too far; and that in the present warmth of my heart, I make too ample a concession in saying that I am only now a convert. You think I always believed, and I thought so too; but you were deceived, and so was I. I called myself indeed a Christian, but he who knows my heart knows that I never did a right thing, nor abstained from a wrong one, because I was so; but if I did either, it was under the influence of some other motive. And it is such seeming Christians, such pretending believers, that do most mischief in the cause, and furnish the strongest arguments to support the infidelity of its enemies: unless profession and conduct go together, the man's life is a lie, and the validity of what he professes itself, is called in question. The difference between a Christian and an unbeliever, would be so striking, if the treacherous allies of the church would go over at once to the other side, that I am satisfied religion would be no loser by the bargain. You say, you hope it is not necessary for salvation to undergo the same affliction that I have undergone. No! my dear cousin, God deals with his children as a merciful father; he does not, as he himself tells, afflict us willingly. Doubtless there are many, who, having been placed by his good providence out of the reach of evil, and the influence of bad example, have, from their very infancy, been partakers of the grace of his Holy Spirit, in such a manner, as never to have allowed themselves in any grievous offence against him. May you love him more and more, day by day, as every day while you think of him you will find him more worthy of your love, and may you be finally accepted by him for his sake, whose intercession for all his faithful servants cannot but prevail." In the same letter he thus expresses his gratitude to God for placing him under the care of Dr. Cotton:-"I reckon it one instance of the providence that has attended me through this whole event, that I was not delivered into the hands of some London physician, but was carried to Dr. Cotton. I was not only treated by him with the greatest tenderness while I was ill, and attended with the utmost dili I had so much need of a religious friend to converse with, to whom I could open my mind upon the subject without reserve, I could hardly have found a better person for the purpose. My eagerness and anxiety to settle my opinions upon that long neglected point, made it necessary, that while my mind was yet weak, and my spirits uncertain, I should have some assistance. The doctor was as ready to administer relief to me in this article likewise, and as well qualified to do it, as in that which was more immediately his province. How many physicians would have thought this an irregular appetite, and a symptom of remaining madness! But if it were so, my friend was as mad as myself, and it is well for me that he was so. My dear cousin, you know not half the deliverances I have received; my brother is the only one in the family who does. My recovery is indeed a signal one, and my future life must express my thankfulness, for by words I cannot do it." He now employed his brother to seek out for him an abode somewhere in the neighborhood of Cambridge, as he had determined to leave London, the scene of his former misery; and that nothing might induce him to return thither, he resigned the office of commissioner of bankrupts, worth about 601. per annum, which he still held. By this means, he reduced himself to an income barely sufficient for his maintenance; but he relied upon the gracious promise of God, that bread should be given him, and water should be sure. On being informed that his brother had made many unsuccessful attempts to procure him a suitable dwelling, he, one day, poured out his soul in prayer to God, beseeching him, that wherever he should be pleased, in his fatherly mercy, to place him, it might be in the society of those who feared his name, and loved the Lord Jesus in sincerity. This prayer, God was pleased graciously to answer. In the beginning of June, 1765, he received a letter from his brother to say, he had engaged such lodgings for him at Huntingdon, as he thought would suit him. Though this was farther from Cambridge, where his brother then resided, than he wished, yet, as he was now in perfect health, and as his circumstances required a less expensive way of life than his present, he resolved to take them, and arranged his affairs accordingly. On the 17th of June, 1765, having spent more than eighteen months at St. Alban's, partly in the bondage of despair, and partly in the liberty of the gospel, he took leave of the place, at four in the morning, and set out for Cambridge, taking with him the servant who had attended him while he remained with Dr. Cotton, and who had maintained an affectionate watchfulness over him during the whole of his illness, waiting upon him, on all occasions, with the greatest patience, and invariably treating him with the greatest kindness. The mingled emotions of his mind on leaving the place were painful and pleasing; he regarded it as the place of second nativity; he had here passed from death unto life-had been favored with much leisure to study the word of God—had enjoyed much happiness in conversing upon its great truths with his esteemed physician; and he left it with considerable reluctance; offering up many prayers to God, that his richest blessings might rest upon its worthy manager, and upon all its inmates. The state of his mind on this occasion he thus affectionately describes:-"I remembered the pollution which is in the world, and the sad share I had in it myself, and my heart ached at the thought of entering it again. The blessed God had endowed me with some concern for his glory, and I was fearful of hearing his name traduced by oaths and blasphe nies, the common language of this highly-favored | where he had prayed the day before, and found the but ungrateful country; but the promise of God, relief he had there received was but the earnest of 'Fear not, I am with thee,' was my comfort. I a richer blessing. The Lord was pleased to visit passed the whole of my journey in fervent prayer him with his gracious presence, he seemed to speak to God, earnestly but silently entreating Him to be to him face to face, as a man speaketh to his friend; my guardian and counsellor in all my future jour- He made all His goodness pass before him, and ney through life, and to bring me in safety, when constrained him to say with Jacob, not "how dreadhe had accomplished his purposes of grace and ful," but "how lovely is this place! This is the mercy towards me, to eternal glory." house of God, and the gate of heaven." CHAPTER IV. Removal to Huntingdon. Sensations there. Engages in public wor- He remained four months in the lodgings procured for him by his brother, secluded from the bustling and active scenes of life, and receiving only an occasional visit from some of his neighbors. Though he had little intercourse with men, yet he enjoyed much fellowship with God in Christ Jesus. Living by faith, and thus tasting the joys of the ur seen world, his solitude was sweet, his meditations were delightful, and he wanted no other enjoyments. He now regularly corresponded with all his intimate friends, and his letters furnish the clearest proofs of the happy, and indeed almost enviable, state of his mind, during this period. To Lady Hesketh, in a letter dated July 5, 1765, he thus discloses his feelings:-"I should have written to you from St. Alban's long ago, but was willing to perform quarantine, as well for my own sake, as because I thought my letters would be more satisfactory to you from any other quarter. You will perceive I allowed myself sufficient time for the purpose, for I date my recovery from the latter end of last July, having been ill seven, and well twelve months. About that time my brother came to see me; I was far from well when he arrived, yet, though he only remained one day, his company served to put to flight a thousand deliriums and delusions which I still labored under. dence, I like it extremely. Mr. Hodgson, the minis"As far as I am acquainted with my new resiter of the parish, made me a visit yesterday. He is very sensible, a good preacher, and conscientious in the discharge of his duty; he is well known to Dr. Newton, Bishop of Bristol, the author of the Treaof the truth of Christianity, in my mind, that was tise on the Prophecies, the most demonstrable proof ever published." In another letter, a few days afterwards, to the same lady, he thus writes:-"Mentioning Newton's The following day he went to church, for the Treatise on the Prophecies brings to my mind an first time after his recovery. Throughout the whole anecdote of Dr. Young, who you know died lately of the service, his emotions were so powerfully af- at Welwyn. Dr. Cotton, who was intimate with fecting, that it was with much difficulty he could him, paid him a visit about a fortnight before he restrain them, so much did he see of the beauty and was seized with his last illness. The old man was glory of the Lord while thus worshipping Him in then in perfect health; the antiquity of his person, his temple. His heart was full of love to all the the gravity of his utterance, and the earnestness congregation, especially to such as seemed serious with which he discoursed about religion, gave him, and attentive. Such was the goodness of God to in the doctor's eye, the appearance of a prophet. him, that he gave him the oil of joy for mourning, They had been delivering their sentiments on Newand the garment of praise for the spirit of heavi- ton's Treatise, when Young closed the conference ness; and, though he joined not with the congrethus:-My friend, there are two considerations gation in singing the praises of his God, being pre-rock-first, the fall of man, the redemption of man, upon which my faith in Christ is built as upon a vented by the intenseness of his feelings, yet his soul sung within him, and leaped for joy. The and the resurrection of man; these three cardinal parable of the prodigal son was the portion of Scrip- articles of our holy religion are such as human inture read in the gospel appointed for the day. He saw himself in that glass so clearly, and the loving kindness of his slighted and forgotten Lord, that the whole scene was realized by him, and acted over in his heart. And he thus describes his feelings on hearing it:-"When the gospel for the day Cowper now lived in the full enjoyment of reliwas read, it seemed more than I could well support. gion. Its truths supported his mind, and furnished Oh, what a word is the word of God, when the him with an ample field for meditation; its proSpirit quickens us to receive it, and gives the hear-mises consoled him, freed him from every distressing ear, and the understanding heart! The harmony of heaven is in it, and discovers clearly and satisfactorily its author." Immediately after church he repaired to the place genuity could never have invented, therefore they must be divine: the other is the fulfilment of prophecy, of which there is abundant demonstration. This proves that the Scripture must be the word of God, and if so, Christianity must be true.'" ing sensation, and filled him with joy unspeakable and full of glory; its duties regulated all his conduct, and his chief anxiety was to live entirely to the glory of God. The following beautiful lines of the poet are strikingly descriptive of his feelings at to the truth of Christianity itself, yet he never could this period: "I was a stricken deer, that left the herd Long since; with many an arrow deep enfix'd He drew them forth, and heal'd, and bade me live. On all affairs connected with religion, Cowper now delighted to think and to converse, and his best letters were those in which he could freely introduce them to his correspondents. In the close of the letter from which we made the above extract, he thus writes:"My dear consin, how happy am I in having a friend to whom I can open my heart upon these subjects! I have many intimates in the world, and have had many more than I shall have hereafter, to whom a long letter upon those most important articles would appear tiresome at least, if not impertinent. But I am not afraid of meeting with that reception from you, who have never yet made it your interest that there should be no truth in the word of God. May this everlasting truth be your comfort while you live, and attend you with peace and joy in your last moments. I love you too well not to make this a part of my prayers; and when I remember my friends on these occasions, there is no likelihood that you can be forgotten." In another letter to Lady Hesketh, dated 1st of August, 1765, he thus adverts to the character of his former associates, and feelingly expresses his anxiety for their spiritual welfare:-"I have great reason to be thankful I have lost none of my acquaintance but those whom I determined not to keep: I am sorry this class is so numerous. What would I not give, that every friend I have in the world were not almost, but altogether Christians? My dear cousin, I am half afraid to talk to you in this style, lest I should seem to indulge a censorious humor, instead of hoping, as I ought, the best of all men. But what can be said against ocular proof, and what is hope when built upon presumption? To use the most holy name in the universe for no purpose, or a bad one, contrary to his own express commandment, to pass the day, and the succeeding days, weeks, and months, and years, without one act of private devotion, one confession of our sins, or one thanksgiving for the numberless blessings we enjoy; to hear the word of God in public with a distracted attention, or with none at all; to absent ourselves voluntarily from the blessed communion, and to live in the total neglect of it; are the common and ordinary liberties which the generality of professors allow themselves: and what is this, but to live without God in the world? Many causes might be assigned for this anti-christian spirit so prevalent among professors, but one of the principal I take to be their utter forgetfulness that the Bible which they have in their possession is, in reality, the WORD OF GOD. My friend, Sir William Russell, was distantly related to a very accomplished man, who, though he never believed the gospel, admired the Scriptures as the sublimest compositions in the world, and read them often. I have myself been intimate with a man of fine taste, who has confessed to me, that though he could not subscribe read St. Luke's account of our Saviour's appearance to his two disciples going to Emmaus, without being wonderfully affected by it; and he thought, that if the stamp of divinity was any where to be found in Scripture, it was strongly marked and visibly impressed upon that passage. If these men, whose hearts were chilled with the darkness of infidelity, could find such charms in the mere style of Scripture, what must those find whose eyes could penetrate deeper than the letter, and who firmly believed themselves interested in all the invaluable privileges of the gospel? Had this mere man of taste searched a little further, he might have found other parts of the sacred history as strongly marked with the characters of Divinity as that he mentioned. The parable of the prodigal son, the most beautiful fiction that ever was invented; our Saviour's speech to his disciples, with which he closes his earthly ministration, full of the sublimest dignity and tenderest affection, surpass every thing that I ever read, and, like the spirit with which they were dictated, fly directly to the heart. If the Scripture did not disdain all affectation of ornament, one should call such as these its ornamental parts; but the matter of it is that upon which it principally stakes its credit with us, and the style, however excellent, is only one of the many external evidences by which it recommends itself to our belief." The warmest expressions of his gratitude to God for his distinguishing goodness to him, during his affliction, were frequently employed in his letters, In one, dated 4th September, 1765, he thus writes te his cousin :-" Two of my friends have been cut off during my illness, in the midst of such a life as it is frightful to reflect upon, and here am I, in better health and spirits than I can ever remember to have enjoyed, after having spent months in the apprehension of instant death. How mysterious are the ways of Providence! Why did I receive grace and mercy? Why was I preserved, afflicted for my good, received, as I trust, into favor, and blessed with the greatest happiness I can ever know, or hope for in this life, while these were overtaken by the great arrest, unawakened, unrepenting, and every way unprepared for it? His infinite wisdom, to whose infinite mercy I owe it all, can solve these questions, and none else. A free-thinker, as many a man miscalls himself, would, without doubt, say, 'Sir, you were in great danger, and had, indeed, a most fortunate escape.' How excessively foolish, as well as shocking, is such language! As if life depended upon luck, and all that we are, or can be, all that we have now, or can hope for hereafter, could possibly be referred to accident. To this freedom of thought it is owing, that he, who is thoroughly apprized of the death of the meanest of his creatures, is supposed to leave those whom he has made in his own image, to the mercy of chance; and to this it is likewise owing, that the correction which our heavenly Father bestows upon us, that we may be fitted to receive his blessing, is so often disappointed of its benevolent intention. Fevers, and all diseases, are regarded as accidents; and long life, health, recovery from sickness, as the gift of the physician. No man can be a greater friend to the use of means upon these occasions than myself; for it were presumption and enthusiasm to neglect them. God has endued them with salutary properties on purpose that we might avail ourselves of them. But to impute our recovery to the medicine, and to carry our views no further, is to rob God of his honor. He that thinks thus, may as well fall upon his knees at once, and return thanks to the medicine that cured him, for it was certainly more immediately instrumental in his recovery than either the apothe cary or the doctor." No one ever watched more carefully the provi- | company as I choose, a deal of comfortable leisure, dence of God than Cowper. His views of it were and enjoy better health, I think, than for many years just and scriptural, as is abundantly evident by the past. What is there wanting to make me happy? above remarks, and, if possible, more clearly evinc-Nothing, if I can but be as thankful as I ought; and I ed by the following extracts from the same excel-trust that He, who has bestowed so many blessings lent letter:-"My dear cousin, a firm persuasion of on me, will give me gratitude to crown them all. I the superintendence of Providence over all our con- thank God for all the pleasing circumstances here, cerns, is absolutely necessary to our happiness.- for my health of body, and perfect serenity of mind. Without it we cannot be said to believe in the Scrip- To recollect the past, and compare it with the preture, or practise any thing like resignation to his sent, is all that I need to fill me with gratitude; and will. If I am convinced that no affliction can be- to be grateful is to be happy. I am far from think. fall me without the permission of God, I am con- ing myself sufficiently grateful, or from indulging vinced likewise that he sees, and knows, that I am the hope that I shall ever be so in the present life. afflicted; believing this, I must, in the same degree, The warmest heart, perhaps, only feels by fits, and believe that if I pray to him for deliverance he hears is often as insensible as the coldest. This, at least, me; I must needs know likewise, with equal assu- is frequently the case with mine, and much oftener rance, that if he hears, he will deliver me: I may than it should be." rest well assured that he has none but the most be- Among the families with whom Cowper was on nevolent intention in declining it. He made us, not terms of intimacy, there were none so entirely conbecause we could add to his happiness, which was genial to his taste as that of the Rev. Mr. Unwin. always perfect, but that we might be happy our- This worthy divine, who was now far advanced in selves; and will he not in all his dispensations to-years, had formerly been master of a free school in wards us, even in the minutest, consult that end for Huntingdon. On obtaining, however, from his which he made us? To suppose the contrary, is to college at Cambridge, the living of Grimston, he affront every one of his attributes, and to renounce married Miss Cawthorne, the daughter of a very utterly our dependence upon him. In this view it respectable draper in Ely, by whom he had two chil will appear plainly, that the line of duty is not dren, a son and a daughter. Disliking their resistretched too tight, when we are told that we ought dence at Grimston, they removed to Huntingdon, to accept every thing at his hands as a blessing, and where they had now resided for many years. to be thankful even when we smart under the rod of iron with which he sometimes rules us. With out this persuasion, every blessing, however we may think ourselves happy in the possession of it, loses its greatest recommendation, and every affliction is intolerable. Death itself must be welcome to him who has this faith; and he who has it not must aim at it, if he is not a madman." The excellence of these extracts from Cowper's correspondence will, it is hoped, be admitted by every reader as a sufficient apology for the interruption they may occasion to our narrative. They might be greatly enlarged; but it is not intended to admit any, except such as will, in some degree at least, serve to describe his character. It was not to be expected that a person like Cowper could remain long unnoticed, how reserved soever was his conduct. Accordingly, he had been at Huntingdon only a short time before he was visited by several persons, and introduced into several families, all eminently distinguished for their respectability, and general consistency of conduct. This soon endeared him to the place, and he thus communicated his sentiments respecting it to his correspondents:-"The longer I live here the better I like the place, and the people who belong to it. I am upon very good terms with five families, all of whom receive me with the utmost cordiality. You may recollect that I had but very uncomfortable expectations of the accommodations I should meet with in Huntingdon. How much better is it to take our lot, where it shall please Providence to cast it, without anxiety! Had I chosen for myself, it is impossible I could have fixed upon a place so agreeable to me in all respects. I so much dreaded the thought of having a new acquaintance to make with no other recommendation than that of being a perfect stranger, that I heartily wished no creature here might take the least notice of me. Instead of which, in about two months after my arrival, I became known to all the visitable people here, and do verily think it the most agreeable neighborhood I ever saw. My brother and I meet every week by an alternate reciprocation of intercourse, as Sam Johnson would express it. As to my own personal condition, I am much happier than the day is long; and sunshine and candle-light alike, see me perfectly contented. I get books in abundance, as much Cowper became acquainted with this interesting family, which was afterwards, almost to the close of his life, a source of comfort to him, in the following rather singular manner. The Unwins frequently noticed Mr. C. and remarked the degree of piety and intelligence he seemed to possess; this induced them to wish for farther acquaintance with the interesting stranger: his manners, however, were so reserved, that an introduction to him seemed wholly out of their reach. After waiting some time, with no apparent prospect of success, their eldest son, Mr. W. Unwin, though dissuaded from it by his mother, lest it should be thought too intrusive, ventured to speak to Mr. Cowper one day, when they were coming out of church, after morning prayers, and to engage himself to take tea with Mr. C. that afternoon. This was perfectly agreeable to Cowper, who, in one of his letters some time afterwards, thus describes his new-made acquaintance: -"To my inexpressible joy, I found him one, whose notions of religion were spiritual and lively; one, whom the Lord had been training up from his infancy for the temple. We opened our hearts to each, other at the first interview; and when we parted, I immediately retired to my chamber, and prayed the Lord, who had been the author, to be the guardian of our friendship, and to grant to it fervency and perpetuity, even unto death; and I doubt not that my gracious Father heard this prayer." A friendship thus formed was not likely to be soon interrupted; accordingly it continued with unabated affection through life, and became to both parties a source of much real enjoyment. Well would it be for Christians, were they, in making choice of their friends, to follow the example of Cowper! Entering upon it by earnest prayer to God for his blessing, they might then hope to derive all those invaluable benefits from it, which it is adapted and designed to convey. The following Sabbath Cowper dined with the Unwins, and was treated with so much cordiality and real affection, that he ever after felt the warmest attachment to this interesting family. In his letters on the subject he thus writes: "The last acquaintance I have made here is of the race of the Unwins, consisting of father and mother, son and daughter; they are the most agreeable people ima ginable; quite sociable, and as free from the cere |