BOOK THE SIXTH. LETTERS OF MORAL AND DEVOTIONAL REFLECTION. I. ON THE DEATH OF A CHRISTIAN SOLDIER. To my Loving Brother, Colonel Valentine Walton. "LEAGUER BEFORE YORK," July 5th, 1644. DEAR SIR: It's our duty to sympathize in all mercies, and to praise the Lord together in chastisements or trials, so that we may sorrow together. Truly England and the Church of God hath had a great favor from the Lord in this great victory given unto us, such as the like never was since this war began. It had all the evidences of an absolute victory, obtained by the Lord's blessing upon the godly party principally. We never charged but we routed the enemy. The left wing, which I commanded, being our iron horse, saving a few Scots in our rear, beat all the Prince's horse. God made them as stubble to our swords. We charged their regiments of foot with our horse, and routed all we charged. The particulars I cannot relate now, but I believe of twenty thousand, the Prince hath not four thousand left. Give glory, all the glory, to God. Sir, God hath taken away your eldest son by a cannon-shot. It broke his leg. We were necessitated to have it cut off, whereof he died. Sir, you know my own Oliver Cromwell to Col. Valentine Walton-On the Death of a Christian Soldier. trials this way, but the Lord supported me with this: that the Lord took him into the happiness we all pant for and live for. There is your precious child, full of glory, never to know sin or sorrow any more. He was a gallant young man, exceedingly gracious. God give you His comfort. Before his death he was so full of comfort he could not express it: "It was so great above his pain." This he said to us; indeed, it was admirable. A little after, he said one thing lay upon his spirits. I asked him what that was. He told me it was that God had not suffered him to be any more the executioner of His enemies. At his fall, his horse being killed with the bullet, and, as I am informed, three horses more, I am told he bid them open to the right and left, that he might see the rogues run. Truly he was exceedingly beloved in the army of all that knew him. But few knew him, for he was a precious young man, fit for God. You have cause to bless the Lord. He is a glorious saint in heaven, wherein you ought exceedingly to rejoice. Let this drink up your sorrow; being these are not feigned words to comfort you, but the thing is so real and undoubted a truth. You may do all things by the strength of Christ. Seek that, and you shall easily bear your trial. Let this public mercy to the Church of God make you to forget your private sorrow. The Lord be your strength; so prays your truly faithful and loving brother, OLIVER CROMWELL. My love to your daughter, and my Cousin Percival, Sister Desbrow, and all friends with you. Dr. Philip Doddridge to Mrs. Doddridge-Happiness flowing from Religion. II.-HAPPINESS FLOWING FROM RELIGION. Dr. Philip Doddridge to Mrs. Doddridge. NORTHAMPTON, October, 1742. I hope, my dear, you will not be offended when I tell you that I am, what I hardly thought it possible, without a miracle, I should have been, very easy and happy without you. My days begin, pass, and end in pleasure, and seem short because they are so delightful. It may seem strange to say it, but really so it is. I hardly feel that I want any thing. I often think of you, and pray for you, and bless God on your account, and please myself with the hope of many comfortable days, and weeks, and years with you. Yet I am not at all anxious about your return, or indeed about any thing else. And the reason, the great and sufficient reason, is, that I have more of the presence of God with me than I ever remember to have enjoyed in any one month of my life. He enables me to live for Him, and to live with Him. When I awake in the morning, which is always before it is light, I address myself to Him, and converse with Him, speak to Him while I am lighting my candle and putting on my clothes, and have often more delight before I come out of my chamber, though it be hardly a quarter of an hour after my awaking, than I have enjoyed for whole days, or perhaps weeks of my life. He meets me in my study, in secret, in family devotions. It is pleasant to read; pleasant to compose; pleasant to converse with my friends at home; pleasant to visit those abroad-the poor and the sick; pleasant to write letters of necessary business by which any good can be done; pleasant to go out and preach the Gospel to poor souls, of which some are thirsting for it, and others dying without it; pleasant in the week-day to think how |