To his Wife. Third-Haven, Eastern Shore of Maryland, 26th of 1st month, 1790. Dear wife, I have just finished a letter to our dear father, but I could not pass thee by without a line in addition thereto. For though I refer thee to that for particulars, these may let thee know, that neither heights, nor depths, tribulations, nor bliss, time nor distance, have separated thee from my heart, or in any wise extinguished that lamp of love which glows and burns with unabated ardour in my soul. Oft have I wished to hear, dear love, how time has passed with thee, and if thy head above the waves was borne. Oft has my soul been tendered and put forth in mental, fervent supplication, when no eye has seen, nor listening ear has heard, but Heaven's alone; and that, I hope and trust, has not been shut against my flowing tears. Time long has seemed, but now begins the moment to look near, when not with pen and ink I shall convey, as now, in broken fragments, only part of what I feel, but face to face reveal, if that can be, the whole. Meanwhile, to God, I still commend thee, as before. On him alone rely; rightly rely on him, and sure I am, his help will never fail. I have proved him in the storm; many a battle fought; in perils manifold; in dangers, fears, and depths of wo: he's held my hand; yea more, he's strung my bow. The weapons formed against us ha'nt prevailed; no, not at any time, when near him we've abode, and, in his holy armour, brave resistance made. No, no, my dearest dear: so far from that, the very bow of steel has oft been broke, and snapped before us as the scorched tow. Our enemies in battle have encamped;we've seen them plain; seen their strong holds, and all their proud entrenchments have surveyed: indeed, with terror too, till faith arose. But when the word, the awful word, that winds and waves obey, was heard,—and we therein bid rise and slay,— a dreadful slaughter more than once was made. Goliah fell, and his Philistine troops, dismayed, became as driven stubble to our mighty bow. One chased a thousand, two ten thousand vanquished, put to flight. For his the battle is, who ne'er in battle yet was foiled; and, till he conquers all things, ne'er will be. I rest assured, dear love, and so mayst thou, that he will reign, till every knee shall bow, and till, in mercy or in judgment, every tongue, however stout, however vile, shall own his sway; and that he's favoured all with all they need, (if but improved,) to wing their souls for heaven. So all that fail will own,-because they must, at that dread hour,-the fault is theirs. Oh! now's the time, the season now is ours: and if we but improve aright our now, our now will bless our souls with many a cup of conIsolation here, and lead to full fruition when the toils of life are o'er. This is my 18th letter. Do give me one more, and tell me how thou art, and how our babes. My love, above all forms, is fresh to them and thee; to my own father, thine and mother too, and all thy brothers, sisters, and my own, with other relatives and friends, the neighbours all. I hope they're kind, and thou to them in what thou can; at least that harmony and love prevail; no frets, no jars, at home, nor yet abroad: for love is best; yea, if an enemy should yet arise, love conquers many a foe, and over all will one day reign. I remain thy ever affectionate husband, JOB SCOTT. I think thou may expect me in three or four weeks after spring meeting. I am not quite certain that I shall not leave Philadelphia before that meeting. If so, sooner home. But don't look out too much. Patience is best for thee and me. I have had occasion for much of it; though of late, much favoured with cheerfulness: but not without some bitter cups by the way, which yet resignation has greatly sweetened. To his Wife. Dear wife, Philadelphia, 24th of 2d month, 1790. I came here on seventh-day, the 20th inst., after a wearisome journey. I had been favoured to finish all I had in prospect on the other side this city; and came here full of the pleasing hope of being at liberty to pass on directly after the meetings on first day, into Jersey, and so home to thee, dear love, and to the rest of my family and friends; but I still find I am not my own. My life that is hid with Christ in God, must be lost, unless I give up that of my own will. Home draws upon me, like cart-ropes; or rather what its operation truly is, like the drawing cords of strong love. It goes not a little against my inclination, to be now obliged to write thee, instead of the much more desirable salutation of a personal visit: especially, as I was almost flushed with the expectation thereof. But, my dearest, thou very well knowest, the cross has been much the allotment of my life, when faithful to my God; and in the cross I must, yea, I must be still at his disposal. The I never felt in this city before, as I have done now. weight that has borne me down since I came here last, I believe words can give thee but a very faint idea of. My way was formerly when here, cast up before me, and made abundantly easy. But, alas! dear love, my way now is in the very bottom of Jordan. May my feet stand firm, and the stones of memorial be brought up thence, is my prayer, by night and by day, to Israel's unslumbering Shepherd. I was at the three meetinghouses on first-day, select, on second-day, and at Bank Monthly Meeting yesterday. All to me exceedingly laborious. If my life might have suffered no loss by silence, I believe they would not have heard my voice in their streets: but being powerfully constrained, I gave the alarm, in all said meetings. And in all but that on first-day evening, in a much more close line, than as a man, I wished. But, not my will, is what I am, and have been abundantly reduced to. The testimony which truth gives me in these meetings, as to number of words, is very short, com pared with my service through the south; and yet, one testimony here, seems more laborious and wearing, than three in a like state of health there. Pine street Monthly Meeting, begins almost just now. I dare not turn Jonah, and flee from it. I see no way out of this place at present, any more than a blind man; but have an assurance that I am rightly and indispensably detained here as yet: and shall embrace the first openings of true liberty to return home. For, if leave was now given me, nothing but wings would be wanting to prevent my flying to thee. I still please myself with a hope of getting along before spring meeting; though that hope is greatly checked by my unforeseen detention here, and by my seeing no way hence, and feeling, as it were, the weight and pressure of all the city upon me. Why I was suffered to feel so light and easy, and to look homeward so pleasantly, before I got here, feeling nothing to prevent my going right on, I know not; unless to confirm me, by the great, and greatly unexpected weight and confinement which I now feel, that it is of him who is over all, and whom I must obey, even at the peril of my life. Every blessing I enjoy is of him. Out of his will I have no consolation. Therefore, must come and go, and stay, at his command. And, O my precious partner in life! I beg thee still to love him. Lean wholly upon him. Give me up cheerfully to him; and then, I am well assured, he will not only be thy inward, great reward, but will give me to thee, in his own good time, in fulness of love. My heart glows with it while I write. I am almost ashamed, at times, that my letters are so replete with the emanations of overflowing tenderness and affection. But yet, when I take my pen again, it seems not to be restrained. And as what thus flows, seems not to offend my Heavenly Fa ther, I let it flow, however it may seem to earthly friends. He knows the sincerity and warmth of my heart thee-ward; and I think, allows me in expressing the emotions thereof. Unto him, I still, as all along, commit the care and keeping of thee, and of all that are mine; and am comforted in feeling that he careth for you. Thou can scarcely conceive how it seems, to have a dear little daughter of the age of our last, and never to have seen her. Nurse her up, my dearly beloved, as the pledge of our love in the absence of each other. May she be like Ruth of old; at least, may our God be her God, and our people her people. Where we go, in the truth, may she go; and where we are buried, (by baptism into death,) there may she be buried. This is my desire and prayer to God for her, if she lives, and for all our children. Tell them, I send them my love. I much desire them to do well in all things; obey thee; love one another; read, and write, and work, but not too much play. If they are good, and do well, tell no lies, nor use bad words, the God that made them, will love them; I, their dear father, shall love them, and good friends will love them. But if they are bad, it will grieve their Maker; their father, their mother, and their friends. Tell them I am pretty well, have gained the flesh I lost in summer; or its loss is supplied, though I then got very low in body and mind foo. Oh! could I have believed it possible, to live through all I have seen and felt since I left home? God over all has preserved me, even in deaths, or I must have given up the ghost. But I have nought to complain of, rather let me bless his name forever. His wonder-working power has been displayed. His holy arm has often been made marvellously bare. He has magnified his name above all praise. Let me love him while I live; trust in him, though he slay me; and in his nod divine, have absolute repose. Father's last account of our dear sister Remember's state of health was very welcome to my mind. Oh! that she may ever bow low before him, that has so marvellously wrought for and restored her; and ever improve her health and every talent to his glory and praise, whose name is worthy to be had in everlasting remembrance by her, and the whole house of Israel. Amen. I have been to Monthly Meeting at Pine street. It is now past nine at night. My line was still very close, but not in my own will. For I rather commiserate the frailty of human nature, than delight in finding fault. But I find no safe way, but in strict faithfulness to the clear openings of light. Our dear women Friends from Ireland, visit the families here in a very |