To Miss M., January 19, 1850. 
    A stranger takes the liberty of sending greeting in that 
    dear Name of Jesus, that Name so precious to the believing soul, precious to 
    the seeking soul, precious to the wounded spirit and to the broken heart, 
    precious to the lame and the lost, to the bound and the bruised, to the 
    leprous and the filthy! Yes, to every spirit-touched soul does this beloved 
    Name sound sweetly, either as that which is known to be precious by 
    enjoyment, or that which is estimated precious as being just what is needed. 
    His name was called Jesus because He saves His people from their sins; and 
    those seeking, trembling souls, who dare not yet say they are of His 
    people--do feel painfully that they need saving from their sins, that such a 
    Savior would suit them well, and to be able, under Divine anointing honestly 
    and lovingly to add the little word "my," would be more to them than 
    possessing mines of gold and crowns of earthly glory. The very thought of 
    saying and feeling "my Savior," sets their hearts longing; and the glow of a 
    little hope that it will come, almost makes their lame feet leap and their 
    dumb tongue to sing. 
    There is a blessed, holy attraction in this altogether 
    lovely Jesus which acts powerfully upon all quickened souls, drawing them 
    out in desire, and drawing them on in pursuit, until the set time comes to 
    favor them more manifestly. Then the meeting between a sin-sick soul and a 
    sin-bearing Savior has in it such secrets of love and sweetness, that it 
    seems as if a thousand years of the most painful waiting, would be richly 
    repaid by one moment of such bliss. But oh, it is not for a moment and then 
    away; the Savior and the saved shall never really part. He "hates divorce," 
    and though darkness obscures, and clouds seem to intervene after the first 
    meeting--yet union remains, communion shall return, and a glorious eternity 
    consummate the bliss. Of every sheep and every lamb, the Good Shepherd will 
    take care, and fold them all safely above. They shall surely pass under the 
    hand of Him who counts them, and not one be missing. However faint, or 
    feeble, or fearing, or unworthy any one may be, they are all bought and paid 
    for, and the flock must be as complete as the price was satisfactory. The 
    wolf may howl, the dog may bark, the way may be dreary, and the poor heart 
    may often tremble—but the Good Shepherd will not be out of hearing, even if 
    He seem to be out of sight. He will rescue even out of the paw of the lion, 
    and out of the paw of the bear. 
    Perhaps Miss M—'s heart is saying, "I know all this—but 
    fear I am not one of His flock." Is sin hated, self loathed, the world 
    forsaken, Jesus longed for, His people loved, His ordinances and Word prized 
    and sought unto--to find Him in them, and the good old way inquired after 
    with a desire to walk therein? If so, these surely seem like the breathings 
    and bleatings of the sheep; and let Miss M— be encouraged into the assurance 
    that the Good Shepherd's heart is so loving and tender, it is as easily 
    touched by the half-uttered "baa" of the weakling lamb as by the full-toned 
    "Abba" of the sheep that knows its fold and its owner. 
    It may be, He is now saying to this fearing one, "I have 
    refined you—but not with silver, I have chosen you in the furnace of 
    affliction." It may be, He is trying, and will before long bring forth as 
    gold; and if He has fixed upon the furnace as a meeting-place between you 
    and Himself, it will be worth enduring a seven times heated flame. It may 
    be, at present you have not seen Him—but He sees you, and is regulating all 
    the fiery process. It may be, that as yet you have but fallen down bound 
    into the midst of the fire. Well, so did some before you, who afterwards, in 
    glorious company with the Son of God, walked loose and unharmed in the 
    flames. Think it not strange concerning this fiery trial, which is to try 
    you, as though some strange thing had happened unto you—but consider that as 
    a father chastens his son, so your God chastens you; and though at present 
    it seems not joyous but grievous, yet afterwards may it yield the peaceable 
    fruits of righteousness, through the divine "exercising" of the Holy Spirit 
    thereby.
    Your case is too hard for yourself—but bring it to Jesus, 
    and He will hear it. Surely mine was harder, yes, the hardest of all--so 
    helpless, so hopeless, so sinful, so unbelieving, so hard, so cold, so 
    ignorant, yes, so everything I should not be—but Jesus undertook, and to the 
    uttermost He saved. I was a five hundred pence debtor—but every farthing He 
    paid, and now by Him made free, I live to praise Him, and to encourage all 
    poor, convicted sinners to trust Him with the worst of their bad case. He 
    will not send such empty away. He will in no wise cast them out. None 
    need despair, since He has saved such a worthless, hell-deserving one as 
    myself. May the Holy Spirit enable you to make the venture of faith, and 
    it shall not be in vain. (Esther 4:16, and v. 2)
    The Lord bless you, sanctify your affliction, grant you 
    manifest forgiveness of sins, and an inheritance among all those who are 
    sanctified through faith that is in Jesus. You are seeking Him, perhaps 
    sometimes sorrowing—but "those who sow in tears shall reap in joy." My heart 
    desires He may soon be found of you, and though entirely strangers in the 
    flesh, yet for His dear sake, I venture to subscribe myself yours very 
    sincerely, 
    Ruth Bryan 
    1 Pet. 5:10.