After twenty-six days of sickness I am just able to sit up a little. Compared with many, my sufferings have not been long nor severe. It is of some exercises of mind under them that I wish to write a little to the readers of the "Signs," to whom I have communicated freely for thirty-six years. I know I can tell but little of what I have experienced, but I write to those of like precious faith, who will understand more than I can tell.

After seventeen days of painful suffering a surgical operation was for an erysipelas swelling in the neck. There was relief, but with great weakness. Until the operation there had no favorable prospect, but when the surgeon done his work a cure seemed assured. My quiet of mind had continued, but there was feeling of unspeakable solemnity as I appeared to be in the presence of the Lord, in a special sense, and great were the searchings of heart that I experienced. Every apparent ground of my hope seemed be subjected to great searchings, and to almost disappear, yet hope remained. My heart was filled with the constant prayer, "O God, be merciful to me." When there was hope of recovery, I felt a gladness with my quietude, and then the searchings became deeper and sterner for I feared my gladness was only natural, and not true thankfulness to the Lord, nor submission to his will. Do I really desire and seek the glory of God ? This was the burden of my anxious inquiry.

After preparing, the surgeon said, "Now I am going to hurt you." My strength to bear would have been the strength of an infant, the greater strength was at hand. When his work was done I "How can you bear it, doctor?" "It is you that bear it," he "not I; I would not have borne it so well." "Not that," I said, mean how can you bear to see the suffering in the faces of those must hurt daily and hourly, to do them good?" All that seemed to see the great Physician, the dear Savior, bending over dear ones, with his tender, pitying, but firm expression, hurting deeply, even to the piercing of their hearts, and causing them to the pains of death, thus bringing them to know the fellowship of sufferings, that they may know the fellowship of his joy.

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"FOR the divisions of Reuben there were great searchings of heart." The tribe of Reuben dwelt on the opposite side of Jordan from Canaan, but fought with the tribes that had their inheritance in Canaan. So in a sense we dwell in the world, for flesh and blood cannot enter into the kingdom of God, but we fight the fight of faith in the gospel land. This is the division of Reuben, the division between the flesh and the Spirit, which are contrary the one to the other, and this causes the Lord's people to have such great thoughts and searchings of heart. (Judges v. 15, 16.)

While thus in the felt presence of the great Searcher of hearts, in my pain and weakness of body, I was shown more clearly than ever before how far short I have come in everything I have thought or said or done, how far short of that holiness which God justly requires. My best works have been contaminated by my nature's vileness, so that I can see no merit of my own in them. If accepted, it was to the wonder and praise of grace. I was baptized in the fellowship of the church. It was a privilege and blessing unspeakable, but my own part was all so full of self and sin I wondered the saints could have me with them. I remember the sweet and solemn occasion with thankfulness for the unspeakable grace. I have preached the gospel sometimes, I am sure, and have felt great sweetness and comfort in it. But how could it be that the Lord would call me to such a holy work, or allow me to enter upon it ? I never could understand it. And so much of vile self in all my attempts to preach, so much of vanity, so much of seeking great things for myself. I loathe myself as I think of it now, and feel shame and pain before God. What can I say to him but the same old cry, "God be merciful to me, a sinner"? And I am asking now, Am I sincere even in that? Yet my hope remains, and my mind is held quiet. How is this ?

Have I denied myself ? Have I crucified the flesh, with its affections and lusts ? Oh, how I have tried to think that I have. Sometimes it has seemed that I have tried to deny myself, and that. I have succeeded. But now in the felt presence of God, and seeing the end of this life apparently not far away, I am looking, it seems m vain, for true self-denial in my life and walk. I look over all that I could call self-denial, and I find the thought of self-benefit is in it all. If I have denied myself of any one thing it has been with the thought of a greater good to myself. Denied the lesser, lower, baser, it may be, for the more exalted, nobler, purer, but still for self. What do I know of denying self and taking up my cross? My own self-righteous reasoning and exaltation of self will not avail me here, for the Lord is searching me, and the Lord's line and plummit are not swerved a hairs breadth by my thoughts of my own works.

But here the Lord breaks in upon my soul with a precious revelation, a new revelation, of Christ as my righteousness, as the only doer of good works, for me and for every redeemed soul. Christ denied himself, and he is the only one under heaven who ever did; therefore his name "is the only name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved." A man cannot by his own will deny that same will. "A house divided against itself cannot stand." A man cannot of himself deny himself. His own will cannot lead to works contrary to that will, therefore he cannot of his own will do works of righteousness. It must be by another will, of another nature, that his own will is denied. 0nly one ever lived on earth who could and did deny himself, and he not by his own will as a man, though that will was pure, for he was holy, harmless, undefiled and separate from sinners, but by his Father's will which he came in the flesh to do. It was the Father's will wrought in the Son. This turned him away from "all created good," from seeking gratification of his needs as a man, and of his pure and right earthly desires, and caused him to deny himself of his just rights, and from claiming the true judgment given in his favor by Pilate, and made him yield to unjust oppression when he could have had power to resist it, and allow himself to be numbered with the transgressors, and to die an accursed death. This all was not according to his will as a man, but was according to the Father's will, to fulfill in and through the Son the Father's eternal purpose. That will of the Father by which the dear Son denied himself, is the only will by which any man can ever deny himself, take up his cross and follow Jesus.

Then how sharply came to my waiting, anxious soul the question, "Where is the evidence that this will has ever been wrought in you? How does it appear that you have ever experienced this work of self-denial? that you have ever truly denied yourself?" But I remember that it is said of the Lord's people by an inspired apostle, "We have the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not trust in ourselves, but in God who raiseth the dead." I have felt this sentence death in myself. By this I have been prevented from trusting in myself. I have sought in vain to find any good thing dwelling in me, that is, in my flesh. I have seen and felt a blight upon all earthly things for myself, so that I could not base any substantial hope of happiness upon them. Whenever true and real comfort has come to me it has been, not because of any good discovered in myself, nor because of any merit in anything done by me, but because of some blessed revelation of Jesus to my soul; because of some sweet truth brought to my mind, some precious word of promise dropped into my heart, which made forget myself and my depravity for the time, and rejoice in the and feel strong in him, "and in the power of his might." It was always God's work, not mine, that made me rejoice. But before long a sense of my unworthiness has often made me question how these blessed things could be mine, until again they were revealed by his own glorious and again sealed unto me as mine.

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I am writing in bed, as I am able, from time to time, but I can only a little of what passes in my mind, The church of God has been fair and beautiful to me, and her work and service have been mostly delight, though I can truly say I have never felt worthy to have a part in it, but sometimes so unworthy and unfit as to go to the work burdened and oppressed. I have seen so much of my own vain and sinful self in my work that I have been kept much in the dark, and traveled in low grounds of sorrow. In the meetings of the saints where I dearly love to be, how my comfort has been marred by my worldliness of mind, and the vanity of my thoughts. Yet I have loved the meetings well, though falling so far short of their best goodness because my carnality of mind. Preaching has always been a solemn work to me, and my levity of nature has been mostly hushed when trying to preach. But still so much of self, of vanity, of worldly would crowd in view that I have often become sick of self and almost' weary of the work. Vexation of mind at annoyances of the moment, and at my vain efforts to seek suitable expression, and impatience because I cannot preach better, because I cannot preach as well as my brethren, though at the same time inwardly glad that they can preach better than I. But I must confess with thankfulness that sometimes I am happy as a little child while made to forget myself and remember only the Lord's name, and his hungry poor while preaching the gospel of his grace. I love to hear the gospel preached, and yet often some tone or manner of the preacher will attract my attention away from the truth he proclaims, and oftener some frivolous thought in my own vain mind.

What contradictions! What conflicts! what contrariness between flesh and Spirit, and all most apparent in the holiest places and work. How often I say, "Is there any Spirit of Christ in me? If not, I am none of his." I remember the wormwood and the gall of such experiences, and recall to mind that my soul is humbled within me at the thought of those distressing views of my vain self, therefore I am comforted and have hope. (Lam. iii. 19-21.) Have I ever received any comfort which appeared to me as a reward for any act of obedience of mine? So far from it that the very thought is revolting to my soul. In my experience every token of God's love and favor, and he has given me many, notwithstanding my unworthiness, every act of obedience, and every sweet comfort and assurance of hope, have been alike from God through rich and abounding grace in Christ, and my thanksgivings have abounded to his dear name as much for the gift of an obedient spirit and walk as for the precious words that have shown my sins forgiven.

How much I have sown to the flesh, in thought and word and deed, and as must necessarily follow, I have of the flesh reaped corruption. Why has the Lord made me to feel the bit};eruess of sin instead of leaving me dead in it, or allowing me to rest in carnal security ? Why has he in mercy restored my soul? Why has he given me repentance unto life, and the feeling of the Publican's prayer in my heart ? Why has he brought me in spirit to his dear feet, and favored me to feel his wonderful love in my soul? Why has he given me this submission to his will at this time, so contrary to my natural disposition? I cannot tell, only that it is for some wise and gracious purpose of his own. But what wonderful love and mercy and grace to poor, unworthy me. If he shall restore me to a measure of health and strength so that I may stand before his people again, I desire and pray that I may preach Christ, and only Christ, wasting no time or words on useless things; that I may have no divided mind, but a mind single to the glory of God, and to the good of his hungry poor.

Only by the Spirit of Christ working in me mightily can I deny myself. It is the cutting off of the flesh by the circumcision of Christ, so that we have no confidence in the flesh. To deny not only the carnal, gross appetite, the lustful desire, the anger and hatred and envy that are clamoring for expression, but also the most noble and exalted impulses of our human nature; to deny not only the claims of worldly ambition, but also our just rights, and allow ourselves to be taken from judgment, as Jesus did, and to appear vile in the sight of men, if need be; to deny not only the cruel impulse to hurt another by the "words that are spears and arrows," but also to deny the generous impulse to speak kindly, flesh-pleasing words, when only self, not truth, would be favored by them; to please not ourselves, but others; to turn the other cheek to the smiter; to give the cloak also; to turn not away from him that would borrow of us. But this no man can do; no, all these things are among those that are impossible withmen; but there are no impossibilities with God; he can do all things, but he does them in his own way.

This is dying daily; this is denying self. As we come before God in the Spirit, whether in immediate prospect of the great change or not, how he removes our trust in a moment from all our own works, from all fleshly goodness, from all created things, and shows us how far our trust has been in the Lord. Then "we are open and naked before him with whom we have to do."

0, the sharp pain of that surgeon's knife, as in his tender but firm hand it cut down through the swollen and hardened flesh. But it reached and brought out that poisonous mass of corruption that had gathered and secreted itself there, near the springs of life, and made way for a permanent cure. O, the piercing stroke of the word of God, sharper than surgeon's knife, as it has divided between soul and Spirit, showing the soul ever cleaving to the dust (Psalm cxix. 25), until quickened by the Spirit, according to the Lord's word, that we may run in the way of his commands. Did we think there was goodness in the flesh? that piercing word has shown us our delusion; it is corrupt. But the Lord will bring health and cure. Here is the perishing of the outer man day by day; here the bearing about in our body the dying of the Lord Jesus. No comfort to the flesh in this experience except the sweet hope of the great change that shall come to us in the resurrection, when we shall be conformed to the image of Jesus. In this hope the flesh of Jesus rested; in this hope we rest. (Psalm xvi. 9.) In this denying of self and following Jesus we find no earthly pillow for the head, no rest for the flesh. O, the pain of this daily crucifixion, this cutting off of all trust in the flesh. O, the hurt of this piercing word! But through it all comes the promise, and the experience by faith, of true healing; through the suffering comes the unspeakable fragrance and glorious beauty of the life of Jesus made manifest even in our mortal body. This is our true life, the life that we now live in the flesh, by the faith of the Son of God. Now, through this painful experience of the circumcision of Christ, we know what it is to deny ourselves. We follow Christ in suffering in the flesh, but also, blessedly, we follow him in spiritual life and holy joy. His works are now our works; he works them in us to will and to do of his good pleasure. And by his rich grace this inward work is wrought out in our life here. From this sorrowing, yet rejoicing, inward life of faith come all the sweet amenities of the social life of the saints on earth; brethren dwelling together in unity; caring for each other; thinking of each other's welfare; "thinking not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others ;" denying one's self for other's good; meeting together with love and joy; forbearing one another in love, forgiving one another; using the mantle of charity for each other's faults; tenderly washing one another's feet. Blessed family of God; blessed people that are in such a case. Glorious city of God, "beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth." There let me dwell in their fellowship while I remain on earth, not in crowded temples made with hands, but where the twos and threes are gathered together in Jesus' name, who "shall speak of the glory of his kingdom and talk of his power."

What the Spirit quickens or moves me to do, though done in the weakness of the flesh, is accepted of God; it is a work of faith. Grace wrought in us the holy desire, the holy will; and grace has enabled us to work it out with fear and trembling. We mourn for the weakness of the flesh, but in that weakness the strength of Jesus is made perfect, and as his power rests upon us we are strong. In our felt weakness is our strength. Soon all the fancied strength and all the real weakness of the flesh shall be gone in a moment, and we shall appear with Christ, who is our life, in glory.

I have written in great weakness of body. My love to all the dear brethren. I have now been more than four weeks sick. I hope in a few days, if the Lord will, to go out again, and to meet with brethren at our association part of the time.

MAY 25, 1900.