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me in thy ſweets croſs, that I never knew what it was for to weary.—I at that time engaged to endure what ingredients thou ſhouldeſt put in my cup to drink, and to drink chearfully and ſubmiſsively.—Such was thy love to me, that thou brought me from under the feet of that cruel enemy, without wronging truth; and haſt letten me ſee, that I have nothing to boaſt of — it being nothing in me but ever free grace that perfected ſtrength in the weakneſs, O that I had the tongue of the learned, that I might ſhew all thy praiſes! It was not I, but thou who magnified thy power, in carrying a poor weak thing thro’ ſuch-depths, and ſuffered great ones to ſtagger and fall in the way — Thy word was made out in making uſe of the fooliſh things of the world to confound the wiſe—Thou haſt made thy infinite love to carry thro' a poor finite creature.
How often have I been made to ſtand and wonder and admire free love; knowing my own weakneſs, and the many infirmities I am liable to, by a body of sin and death: ſuch was thy love, that thou gave me ſuch courage, that neither the flattering of friends nor the threats of enemies would move me to do any thing to truth’s disadvantageǃ Such was thy love to me! O thy ſweet croſsǃ thy yoke was made eaſy to me, and thy burden light. O that any ſhould fear at thy ſoul
