THE heart's-ease. 129 



back in his chair with a look of pained abstraction. 

 I addressed him, and his reply was, ' These are all 

 material things, they engross our thoughts, and de- 

 vour our time. Shall we never rise above sensi- 

 ble objects ? I often strive to do so, but I am 

 pulled back, and fettered down, by the mass of 

 matter. I am oppressed by it: ^vhy do yu^i not 

 help me to throv,- off the weight ? why is not our 

 conversalion more in heaven V This was spoken 

 with a feeling that approached irritation; but he 

 followed it up immediately, by sweetly leading the 

 way in an interesting inquiiv iiilo wjiai he used to 

 call the progress of prayer. I could not but think 

 of the expression *' we that are in this tabernacle 

 do groan, being burdened" — and when, just ihree 

 months after, I saw him reposing in his coffin, in 

 that very room, how sweet was the recollection of 

 his secret groaning alter what he now so fully en- 

 joys, clothed upon with his house from heaven : 

 and his mortality swallowed up in life ! 



About lli ;i time, he made a remark that im- 

 pressed nic deeply, and, I hope, abidingly. We 

 attended the ministry of his beloved friend H., and 

 on one occasion, adverting to certain criticisms that 

 had been passed on his discourses by some who 

 seemed to sit in judgment on their teacher, I asked 

 him, ' How is it, that while ihey call one of his ser- 

 mons fine, and another dry, and so forth, I find 

 them all so profitable, and always come away well 



