770 FRIENDS’

REVIEW.

 

thy morsel so much alone? Dost thou say,
surely no one’s sorrows are like unto my sorrows,
my afflictions are without number, and my dif-
ficulties unknown? He that is higher than the
highest knoweth them altogether. For the ery
of the poor, for the sighing of the needy he will
arise. He saw the afflictions of Israel, he took
him by the hand, and made a way for him where
there. was no way, and led him safely through
the wilderness to a land flowing with milk and
honey. He does the same to thousands in this
day. Impossibilities are not required, only to
do the best we can. Precious talents are be-
stowed to be occupied, and must be accounted
for. Now is our time; thisis our day; we shall
soon be gone, and the habitations that knew us
shall know us no more; what call then is there
for faithfulness and diligence in filling up these
few moments to his honor and praise, that so, in
the conclusion, we may be found worthy of:
‘Well done, good and faithful servant.” I
often remember thee with near sympathy, and
much desire thy encouragement, and increase of
strength, both of body and mind, to show thy-
self valiant in thy Master’s cause, a workwoman
that need not be ashamed. ‘‘ How beautiful the
feet of those who bring glad tidings, that say
unto Zion, thy King reigneth !”
Thy very affectionate friend, D. Coopmr.
llth mo. 12th, 1789.

To many of our readers Elizabeth Collins was
well known, as a clear, weighty and impressive
minister of Christ. She and Martha Allinson,
(both subjects, as we have seen, of D. C.’s faith-
ful, nursing care as a father and elder in the
church,) were closely associated in the work and
fellowship of the gospel. They both died at the
age of 76 years. E. C.’s death occurred 2d mo.
Ist, 1831.

D. Cooper to Rebecca Leeds.

Dear Rebecca,—I often remember thee with
near affection, particularly so this day, even to
the tendering of my mind, which induced my
taking the pen to express how much I have de-
sired once more to be among you, before I go
the way of all living: especially in your family
where I have spent many hcurs sweetly refresh-
ing, being very sensible, the first time it was my
lot to be there, that the son of peace was indeed
among you. I trust it is not less so now. I
have much desired also to sit with you in your
new meeting house, the obtaining of which I was
so earnest in promoting: and it is singular I
should so often be disappointed when I had a
prospect of it. Through age and feebleness, my
ever doing so is now doubtful. However that
may be, I shall continue to wish your growth

and prosperity in the truth, and that you may
prefer this to your chiefest joy. How is it,
dear Rebecca? Does thy day’s work keep pace
-with the day? Or art thou excusing thyself as
a feeble woman, and like Gideon, the least in

 

thy Father’s house. Oh how many servants, by
their reasonings and fears, deprive themselves of
that strength, honor and dignity the Master
would confer, were there but a faithful obedience
and devotion of soul to his service. Remember
of what wonderful deliverance was Deborah the
instrument to Israel, and take courage. Be
valiant for the truth. Whatever thy hands find
to do, do with thy might, for verily he will never
leave nor forsake them that love and faithfully
serve him. These in due time he will crown
with immortality.

Were the breathings of my soul sufficiently
availing, some of you would often have your
strength renewed, by the refreshing streams of
Divine love. May you so live as to be found
worthy of so great a favor, and that your peace
may flow asa river!

I often sympathize with thee and Zarujah,
believing much of the affairs of the church rest
on you, with too few real helpers. May the
God of strength fortify your minds with firmness,
qualify you for the discharge of every duty, and
make you as Deborahs to that people. May
his guardian angel be your shield and buckler.
Amen. Thy assured friend, §D. Cooper.

11th mo., 1789.

D. Cooper to Mary Haddock.

Dear Mary,—Thou hast several times men-
tioned my writing to thee, and frequently I have
felt love sufficient, but being destitute of any-
thing likely to be useful, have had doubts about
letters merely formal from one of my age and
station even to a choice friend. But itisa
pleasure to oblige such an one, especially on
promise of a response, from which I may expect
a still greater pleasure,

Well, what is to be expected from the eve of
life, the confines of the grave? Something that
may tend to prepare for its awful enclosure, and
to obtain that most important plaudit: ‘ Well
done good and faithful servant.” How is it
with us, dear Mary? The gloom of evening
has arrived, with me, and thy meridian sun is
fast descending. How is our day’s work? Has
it kept pace with the day? When we retro-
spect past hours, do we find they have been use-
fully filled up; or are there many blanks and
some blots? This is indeed the case with me.
How necessary then to increase our care and
industry, the few remaining moments, that no
part of them be wasted and thrown away! They
swiftly pass and cannot be recalled. A great
man tells us that ‘an omission of good is a
commission of evil.’”?’ What cause then for
watchfulness, that, as our stations require, we
be good way marks to others. Oh, my friend,
what manner of persons ought we indeed to be,
who fill the station ofelders. Sometimes when
I compare what I am with what I ought to be,
’tis enough to cover with blushing and confusion
of face.