more out of conceit of myself than latterly. I marvel that I am at all employed in the great work; and it often seems as if the design of it must be mainly, my own thorough reduction, and preparation for bliss. And yet after all is done for me, I feel myself, miserable, blind, and naked. It is true, my horn is often filled with oil, and poured out upon others; but it seems soon to run off from them, and I am left totally destitute and empty, and can scarcely endure, with becoming patience, my fulness of inner anguish, and feelings as of total desertion. I try to be patient; and I remember many former deliverances; but I find all that won't do, till patience is wrought in me, and I feel myself dependant for it upon superior assistance.

Oh! it is a tried path! I feel at every nerve, and seem almost "tremblingly alive all over." But all is well that is not rendered otherwise by human interposition. Pray for me that I may bear the burden and heat of the day, and flinch not till, nor at the end.

Thy letter, with one from home full of good news, and several from England, received at the same time, were as cordials to my very drooping spirits. But such cordials are soon spent, and the spirits sink again. Perhaps there is no other way, but to pass through much of these sinkings. Some will say, "Bear up." Alas! I can do but little at bearing up, and find I must be borne up, or sink below all consolation.

Friends in Ireland and England are very kind and attentive; and yet I cannot forget my dear friends in America. Please to mention my love to such of them as thou seest, and thinkest proper to name me to; and in a special manner to all the dear children. "May they more and more choose the Lord for their portion, and renounce every thing that would hinder their progress towards the heavenly Canaan."

My service, if any, is very principally among those not of our society. I seem as if I could do little or nothing for the good of our poor (shall I say) decayed Zion: though I hope things are rather reviving in some places.

JOB SCOTT.

Extract of a Letter to a Friend.

Near Charlemont, 8th mo. 23d, 1793. The longer I live, the meaner I think of human activity, and the more certain I am it is to be, and will be baffled and confounded in all its mighty movements in religious things, except as under divine influence. And it is not much matter how many mortifying things we meet with; the sooner we are completely dead and buried, the sooner we shall rise in newness of life. My business seems much like taking down old, ill-built, dirty, decayed, and dangerous buildings; which assuredly must be taken down and removed, that "that alone which cannot be shaken may remain." And strong are my desires that the knowledge of this abiding substance may greatly increase, both among us and others; and I firmly believe it will, as old Babylon comes to be shaken and sunk as a millstone, to rise no more: which great good work I trust he who is omnipotent, is arising to effect in the earth. Oh! that we as a people, were prepared to receive the doves at our windows, when they grow weary, and find no true rest for the sole of the foot, among the many waters on which the whore sitteth, and hence become concerned to flee to Sion's ark for safety.

Extract of a Letter to a Friend.

Near Charlemont, 8th mo. 24th, 1793.

If my little experience at all enables me to judge, there is never any good obtained by unfaithfulness, delay, and disputing the ground by inches; unless when that foolish withholding brings us indirectly, and that through a double heated furnace, to a more perfect surrender at last. The divine will is always good for us. Nothing can be required too hard; nor which if given up to, will ever fail to work good to our souls. I think I am not left to guess this, but that I do livingly know it. And,

Oh! that all whom I love, may escape, shall I say, that bed of hell, which unfaithfulness has sometimes plunged my poor soul

into.

JOB SCOTT.

To Richard and Martha Routh, Manchester.

Charlemont, Ireland, 29th of 8th month, 1793. !

My dear friends R. and M. Routh,

. I received, in due season, your very acceptable communications of 14th and 18th of 5th month; but my constant travelling and attendance of meetings, (in which I have, for some time past, had much more solid satisfaction, than I at all expected,) have prevented my acknowledging the satisfaction which your said letters afforded me. I have nearly finished my visit in this northern part of Ireland, and expect after the Quarterly Meeting, now just at hand, to proceed southward. My health is on the whole, but middling; yet such as to allow me pretty constantly to continue my peregrinations, and arduous exercises. I often remember you with sincerest affection, and wish that you and I may ever be found in our proper places and services. And as we cannot hasten right times, so let us not omit them, lest they return not again; and so we miss the reward of faithful improvement. I don't say this from any evidence that any thing suffers, but from a desire that nothing may, improperly.

I thank thee, (if that word may be used,) dear Martha, for dear William Rotch's letter. I love him dearly; rejoice with him, in the good accounts he receiveth, and feel with him in his painful expectations. But let us steadfastly believe "all things shall work together for good," to those who rely on Divine Allsufficiency. Thou expresses a hope that we shall meet again. I cordially unite with thee in that hope; but must submit all to divine disposal. I rejoice in the fellowship already enjoyed, and much desire that my abiding may be so under the divine, preserving influence, that wherever we meet, be it in Europe, or in dear America, the cementing influence of the same precious fellowship, may be graciously and rejoicingly continued,

I feel that I am but a poor, frail worm of the dust, as it were, and yet have abundant cause to bow low in thankful acknowledgment of that unreserved fulness of the heavenly treasure, which is again and again, to my humbling admiration, vouchsafed to me, even in this poor earthen vessel. The pangs and the perils attendant on this painful warfare, I know thou art familiarly acquainted with, so I need not much enlarge about them. And yet, if thou knew nothing of them, it might be less safe to tell thee that "bonds and afflictions abide me." But, after all, I have no right to complain. The Lord my God hath dealt, and still deals bountifully with me, though he often proves my soul as at Massah, and strives with me, all for good, yet through many painful plungings, as at the waters of Meribah. But no matter how many trials and provings, so that through all he continues still gloriously to arise, he and the ark of his strength.

Low lies the life in these cold, northern climes; and truth has too much fallen in the streets of our poor faded society. Long has the call been continued to them "to return." Is it strange then, that the feet of the messengers are turned to the highways and hedges? My little services lie mostly among other societies; amongst whom is much the most, both of enlargement and substantial relief to my tribulated soul. Blindness has happened to Israel, at least in part: and is it till the fulness of the Gentiles shall come in? Or will others be raised up to take the crown? I sometimes think many that are first, shall be last, and many last, first. Among Friends, I often feel a stupid, lifeless silence, prevail over all; as dead a form as any in the land; a death which I sometimes don't rise superior to the oppression of, through a whole meeting. But amongst others, I mostly witness the glorious liberty of the sons of God; though my work among them is, pulling down the old buildings, overthrowing altars, cutting down groves, and denouncing judgments and downfall to old Babylon and antichrist, now sitting in the temple. They generally hear with an attention which is almost expressive of assent, whilst our own members hearken, as to matter very suitable to others, but which they have little or no concern in; being, in their own estimation, far advanced

beyond so lifeless, and so formal a state! Alas! alas! I know not where to go to find greater formalists, than many among ourselves. Indeed, I think sometimes, total stagnation has taken place with many. But enough of this doleful-and let me look well to myself.

In more love than I can in words express, dear friends, to you both, I conclude, and am your friend,

JOB SCOTT..

My dear friend,

To WR, Liverpool.

Grange, near Charlemont, 8th month 31st, 1793.

I have lately written to as well as once before, some time past, in both which I mentioned thee, and perhaps expressed something of my travail of spirit on thy account; but still my mind continues so much engaged about thee, that I am inclined to address thee particularly.

Thy profession (which I trust is real) is that of standing open to the discoveries of truth, in whatever way they may be made, If my concern and communications in no degree assist thee, in regard to any such discoveries, they may at least tend to my own relief of mind, and I think I shall run little risk of giving offence to such a man as thou professest and appearest to be. Dost thou seriously doubt the living sensible influences, openings, and manifestations of divine truth, to and upon the minds of men? Dost thou doubt whether there is, or may be, livingly and evidently felt, a restraining and constraining operation of divine power, which depends not wholly on any rational deductions or conclusions in the mind? Are we in the hand of God? Do we feel its immediate grasp? Would it form us just according to the divine will, and prepare us to enjoy God as our supreme consolation, if we submitted wholly to its pressure or influence? To me this is as evidently, and, as far as I have submitted, as experimentally the case, as any natural thing is evident and experimental. I know it so well, and certainly, to