DEAR FRIEND,
The thoughts of thee are pleasant to me; indeed, I am melted with the sense of the Lord's love to thee, as to my own soul.
What were we, that the Lord should stretch forth his arm to us, and gather us? And what are we, that the Lord should daily remember us, in the issuings-forth of his loving-kindness and mercies? Oh his pity, his compassion! (must I for ever say) that my soul yet lives, and hath hope before him! And canst not thou also say the same? Oh, my friend! we feel mercy and salvation from the Lord. Oh, that he might have pure praise and service from his own in us! and yet, that will be little thanks to us, but rather a new mercy received from him. But all is his own, and of his own do we give him; and that, only when he quickens, helps, and enables us to give. Dear friend, my desire for thee is, that the power and blessings of life may descend upon thee, and that thou mayst feel thy God near, and thy heart still ready to let him in, and shut against all that is of a contrary nature to his; that thou mayst know that death passing upon thee, and perfected in thee, which prepares for, and lets into, the fulness of his pure, unspotted life.
Thou mayst commend my dear love to thy sister, and to all Friends, as thou hast opportunity, who breathe after the Lord, and desire in uprightness of heart to walk with him.
I am thy Friend, in the affection which is of the Truth.
I. P.
Aylesbury, 20th of Fourth Month, 1666