victory; but if there is true faith the world will certainly
be overcome: I mean provided the faith is held fast. It
may be abandoned, or foes within may betray the
citadel; but it will not otherwise yield to pressure from
without. May we, if possible, encourage one another
not to let go that small, and, it may be, famishing and
almost expiring confidence, which _hath_, not only is promised,
great recompense of reward. I little thought to
come to any thing so encouraging when beginning a sort
of lamentation over myself. But really there is so
much that is deceptive in the deceptive heart; so many
things, even our humility, that we once thought of the
right kind, turn out to have been some refined manifestation
of spiritual pride, that we may daily find, at least
I do, that the question "Who can cure it?" follows its
judgment as "desperately wicked," with emphasis full
as great as that of "Who can know it?" is prompted by
the discovery that it is "deceitful above all things."

* * * Job Thomas's death-bed has long been an
interesting one to me; and I think his parting address,
especially seeing it is a translation from Welsh, conveys
remarkably the impression of a mind beginning to be
shone upon from the other world. On the other hand,
death-beds of opposite characters, such as "Altamont"
in Murray's Power of Religion, carry a no less convincing
evidence of the dark realities to come. When
my father was in America he was much interested with
hearing from a friend, a female connection of whom had
lived in the house with Tom Payne, some account of the