Chapter II: Part 2

Must we forever urge the brain with learning,
And add to moral, intellectual woes?
Nor hold in peace the spoils we have been earning,
And find in wisdom's self the mind's repose?

Long have we watch'd, and risen late and early,
Rising to toil, and watching but to weep;
When will the blessing come like dewdrops pearly,
"On heaven's beloved ones even while they sleep?"

Since life began, our life has been beginning,
That ever-nascent future's treacherous vow;
When shall we find, the weary contest winning
A present treasure, an enduring _now_?

Ten thousand nameless earthly aims pursuing,
Hope we in vain the recompense to see,
And must our total life expire in _doing_,
And never find us leisure time _to be_?

Has not our life a germ of real perfection,
As holds the tiny seed the forest's pride?
And shall its ask'd and promised resurrection
In dreams of disappointed hope subside?

Yes, all is hopeless, man with vain endeavor,
May climb earth's rugged heights, but climb to fall;
Ever perfecting, yet imperfect ever,
Earth has no rest for man--if earth be all.

Yet oft there dwell, in temples frail and mortal,
Souls that partake immortal life the while;
Nor wait till death unbar heaven's pearly portal,
For heaven's own essence, their Redeemer's smile.

_--12th Month_, 1844.

* * * * *

From the Journal relating to daily affairs, at this time, kept distinct from her spiritual diary, the following, and a few other extracts, have been taken. Never suspecting that this would see the light, she left it in an unfinished state. Had it been reconsidered, portions of it would probably have been altered; but it sufficiently shows her desire to understand the agencies of intellectual action, and the philosophy of knowing and acquiring. She recognizes the importance of systematic knowledge, questions the purpose and use of every attainment, and manifests throughout a desire that all the operations of the intelligence may subserve a nobler aim than knowledge in itself possesses:--

_5th Mo. 16th_. That life is a real, earnest thing,
and to be employed for our own and others' real and
earnest good, is a fact which I desire may be more
deeply engraven on my heart. It is certainly a
matter of spiritual duty, to look well to the outward
state of our own house. There are already many
revolutions in my mental history, passed beyond the
reach of any thing but regrets. As a child, play
was not my chief pleasure, but a sort of mingled
play and constructiveness; then reading and learning;
I well remember the coming on of the desire
to _know_. In a tale, false or true, I had by no
means, the common share of pleasure--Smith's Key
to Reading was more to my taste. Poetry I have
ever loved. History I am very dull at; a chain of
events is far more difficult to follow, than a chain of
ideas--causality comes more to my aid than eventuality.
Well, the age of learning came: in it I
learned this, that, and the other; but, alas! order,
the faculty in which I am so deficient, was wanting,
I had not an appointed place for each fact or idea:
so they were lost as they fell into the confused mass.
I am full of dim apprehensions on almost all subjects,
but _know little_ of any. However, it may be
that this favors new combinations of things. I
would rather have all my ideas in a mass, than have
them in separate locked boxes, where they must each
remain isolated; but it were better they were on
open shelves, and that I had power to take them
down, and combine at will. The age of combining
has come; I feel sensibly the diminution of the
power of acquiring: I can do little in that, but
lament that I have acquired so little; but I seem
rebuked in myself at the incessant wish to gain--gain
for what? I must _do_ something with what, I
gain; for, as I said before, I have nowhere to put it
away. I love languages,--above all, the expressive
German; but I know too little to make it expressive
for myself. But my own mother-tongue, though
my tongue is so deficient to use thee, canst thou
afford no other outlet to the struggling ideas that are
within; may I not write? I did write poetry sometimes:
is it presumptuous to call it poetry? It was
certainly the poetry of my heart; the pieces entitled
"The Complaint," and "What profit hath a man,
etc." were certainly poetry to me. But the fate of
my poetry is written before. Perhaps it was a
groundless fear; but still it has given it the death-blow.
But may I write prose? I will tell that by-and-by.
This has brought down my history in this
respect till now:--

The constructive playing age,
The learning age,
The combining age,
So far the intellect.

* * * I am conscientious naturally, rather
than adhesive or benevolent. This natural conscientiousness,
independent of spirituals, has been like
a goad in my side all my life, and its demands, I
think, heighten. It is evidently independent of religion,
because it is independent of the love of God
and of man. For instance, I form to myself an
idea of my reasonable amount of service in visiting
the poor. Have I fallen short of this amount, I am
uneasy, and feel myself burdened; the thing is before
me, I must do it: why? Because I feel the
love of God constraining me? Sometimes far otherwise.
Because I feel benevolence towards the poor?
No; for the thing itself is a task; but because it is
my duty; because I would justify myself; because
I would lighten my conscience. I have called this
feeling independent of religion; but perhaps it is
most intense when religion is faintest. This latter
supplies, evidently, the only true motive for benevolent
actions. Then they are a pleasure: then the
divergence of the impulse of duty from the impulse
of inclination is done away; and I believe the love of
God is the only thing, which, thus redeeming those
that were under the law, can place them under the law
of Christ. Though it is little I can do for the poor,
I ought to feel it both a duty and a pleasure to devote
some time to them most days. To see the aged,
whose poverty we have witnessed, whose declining
days we have tried to soothe, safely gathered home,
is a comfort and pleasure I would not forego; and,
though the real benefit we render to them must depend
on our own spiritual state, their cottages have
often been to me places of deep instruction.

The useful desire to learn, may be carried too far;
we may sacrifice the duties we owe to each other, by
an eagerness of this kind; nor, I believe, can we,
without culpable negligence, adhere tenaciously to
any plan of study. The moral self-training which
is exercised by giving up a book, to converse with
or help another, is of more value than the knowledge
which could have been acquired from it. Indeed,
I am convinced we are often in error about
_interruptions_. We have been interrupted; in what?--in
the fulfilment of our duty? That cannot be;
but in the prosecution of our favorite plan. If the
interruption was beyond our control, it _altered_ our
duty, but could not interrupt it. Duty is the right
course at a given time, and under given circumstances.

A subject, which has of late been very interesting
to me, is that of the Jews. I am convinced that
much, very much, is to be done for them by Christians,
and for Christians by them; but I think the
interest excited in their behalf, in the world at large,
is, in many cases, not according to knowledge. An
historical view of their points of contact with the
professing Christian world, has long been on my
mind; and I think it needs to be drawn by an independent
hand,--in short, by a Friend. That "He
that scattered Israel will gather him, and feed him
as a shepherd doth his flock," is confessed now on
all sides. The when, the where, and the how, are
variously viewed. But what will He gather them
to? is a question not enough thought of. One
wishes them to be gathered to the Church of England,
another to the Church of Scotland; but I am
persuaded their gathering must be to the primitive
Christian faith. I say not to Friends; although I
hold the principles of Friends to be the principles
of primitive Christianity. For I do think a vast
distinction is to be made between the principles of
truth professed by Friends, and the particular line
of action, as a body, into which they have been led,
(I doubt not by the truth,) under the circumstances
in which they were placed. My belief is, that the
Jews are to be gathered to none but a Church built
"on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, of
which Jesus Christ himself is the chief corner-stone;"
and that to such a Church they are to be
gathered immediately and instrumentally, by the
Spirit of God himself. A view of the manner in
which they have been regarded and treated by professing
Christians from the Christian era to the
present time, and of their own feelings towards
Christians and Christianity, if well drawn, would be
valuable and useful.

This interest in the Jews led Eliza to devote much, labor, during several years, in collecting information relating to their history since the Christian era. Had her life been spared, she would probably have made some defined use of the large mass of material collected, which, whilst valuable as an evidence of deep research, is not sufficiently digested to be generally useful.

_7th Mo. 3d_. This evening I have finished copying
the foregoing scraps, previously on sheets, into this
book, that they may yet speak to me, in days to come,
of His manifold mercies, whose "candle has ofttimes
shone round about me," and "whose favor has made
me glad."

_7th Mo. 5th_. I desire gratefully to acknowledge
the privilege of which we have this week partaken,
in the occurrence of our Quarterly Meeting, and a
most sweet visit from ----; full of love is ---- to
his Master, and full of love to the brethren,
and even to the little sisters in Christ. Most
kindly and tenderly he and his wife advised us,
and myself, when we happened to be alone, to wait
and watch at the feet of Jesus, from whom the message
will come in due time, "The Master calleth for
thee." Manifold has been the expression of sympathy
for us all this week, in the prospect of parting with
our dear father on the Indiana committee, in about
five weeks, and the comforting expectation expressed
that his absence will be a time of sweet refreshing
from the presence of the Lord. Oh, we have much
to be thankful for in the grace that has been bestowed.

_7th Mo. 9th_. I have been much blessed the last
few days; not with high enjoyments, but with a calm
sense of dependence and trust on my Saviour, and
assistance in watching over my own heart. This
morning I have been tried with want of settlement
and power to get to the throne of grace; but faith
must learn to trust through all changes in the unchangeable
truth and love of Jesus. I am sensible
that this has been a time of much renewed mercy to
my soul; and oh that if, as ---- told me, the Lord
has many things to say unto me, but I cannot bear
them now, I may but be kept in the right preparation,
both for hearing and obeying!

_7th Mo. 27th_. I am sometimes astonished at the
condescending kindness of my Saviour, that he should
so gently and mercifully "heal my backslidings and
love me freely." I think my chief desire is to be
preserved _alive_ in the truth, and _growing_ in the
truth; but sometimes, through unwatchfulness, such
a withering comes upon me, I lose all sense of good
for days together, and this nether world is all I seek
pleasure in. Then there is but a cold, cheerless,
condemning feeling, when I look towards my Father's
house; but when all life seems gone, and I am ready
to conclude that I have suffered so many things in
vain, how often does the gentle stirring of life bring
my soul into contrition, into stillness! and He, who
upbraideth not the returning sinner, reveals himself
as "the repairer of the breach, the restorer of paths
to dwell in."

The following lines describe her feelings at such a time as this:--

Then disconsolate I wander'd,
Where my path was lone and dim,
Till I thought that I was sunder'd
Evermore from heaven and Him.

Then it was my Shepherd found me,
Even as He had of old,
Threw His arms of mercy round me,
Placed me gently in His fold.

_7th Mo. 29th_. The expression, I think, of William
Penn, "Let the holy watch of Jesus be upon your
spirit," is a fitting watchword for me.

_7th Mo. 30th_. Oh, this must be the watchword still.

_8th Mo. 10th. First-day morning_. I was helped
to cast away some of the weight of worldly thoughts
last evening, and fervently to desire after the Lord.
It is a blessing to have his manifested presence and
love with us; but this is not at all times the needful
or the best thing for us. To have the heart right
with God, to commit my _all_ to him, to live in the
very spirit which breathes, "Thy will be done," in
and through me,--oh, this is to be alive in Christ;
this is indeed the work of the spirit; this is to lose
my life, that I may keep it unto life eternal.

At the Yearly Meeting of 1845 occurred the appointment previously alluded to, under which John Allen became a member of the committee which visited Indiana Yearly Meeting. As communication between Great Britain and America was not so easy and frequent in those days as at present, both he and his family very strongly felt the prospect of separation. In allusion to the appointment, Eliza writes, "My father allowed the business [of the Yearly Meeting] to proceed, but at length said that he felt too much overwhelmed to speak sooner,--that the subject touched his tenderest feelings, and that he felt very unfit for such an engagement, but that the sense which had been and was, while he was speaking, present with him, of that goodness and mercy which had followed him all his life long and blessed him, was such that he dared not refuse to do any little offices in his power for those dear friends with whom he should be associated." She then gives an account of the receipt at home of the unexpected intelligence of this long journey, and of the calmness which eventually followed the shock to the feelings which it occasioned. After he had set out, she wrote an interesting account, too long to be given at full length, of what had passed in the intervening time,--the hopes and fears, the preparations, her father's parting with his friends and their words of encouragement to him, with his own counsel and exhortations to his children. A few words of his last address to them may not be out of place:--"I earnestly desire for us all that when we shall meet again we may all have made some progress in the heavenward journey and be enabled to rejoice together in the sense of it. For you, my dear young people, especially, I earnestly desire that you may be preferring the best things, not setting your affections on trifling objects, but valuing an inheritance in the truth above all those things that perish with the using. * * * Be willing to be the Lord's on his own terms, and prize above all things the sense that you are his; and you will be his, if you are willing to walk in the narrow way--the way of self-denial."

It does not pertain to this volume to give any further account of this journey or of the mission in which he was engaged. The visit of the deputation is probably fresh in the remembrance of many Friends in the United States.

_8th Mo. 24th_. The great parting is over: the love
and mercy of our heavenly Father sustained my
dearest father and mother beyond expectation. On
this occasion, when I have been helped back from
a sad, lone wandering on barren mountains, I may
learn, more deeply than ever before, the safety, the
sweetness, of dwelling in the valley of humiliation.
Oh, let me dwell there long and low enough. I ask
not high enjoyments nor rapturous delights; but I
ask, I pray, when I can pray at all, for quiet, watchful,
trustful dependence upon my Saviour.

_8th Mo. 27th_. We have had a ride in the country
this afternoon, and during a solitary walk of a mile
and a half I had very sweet feelings. Jesus seemed
so near to me and so kind that I could hardly but
accept of him. But then there seemed some dark
misgivings at the same time; as if I had an account
to settle up first,--something I must do myself; the
free full grace seemed too easy and gratis to accept
of. But all this I found was a mistake. I thought
of the lines--

"He gives our sins a full discharge;
He crowns and saves us too,"

and of a remark I had seen somewhere, "Look at
Calvary, and wilt thou say that thy sins are _easily_
passed by?"

This evening in my _andachtzimmer_,[1] I wished to
pray in spirit; but not a petition arose that I could
offer. I felt so blind, and yet so peaceful, that all
merged into the confiding language, Father, _Thy will_
be done!

[Footnote 1: Devotional retirement.]

_9th Mo. 2d_. On First-day, the twenty-first, I had
a great struggle on the old poetry-writing question.
I had written none since the great fight last winter;
but now to my dearest father I ventured to write,
thinking I had got over the danger of it. But when
all was written, I was forced to submit to the mortification
of not sending it. The relief I felt was indescribable,
and I hope to get thus entoiled no more.
My scruple is not against poetry, but _I_ cannot write
it without getting over-possessed by it. Therefore
it is no more than a reasonable peace-offering to
deny myself of it. * * * "And now, Lord,
what wait I for?" Enable me to say, "My hope is
in thee." It seems as if the path would be a narrow
one; but, oh, "make thy way straight before my
face;" and, having enabled me, I trust, to _give some_
things to "the moles and to the bats," leave me not
till I have learned "to count _all_ things but loss, for
the excellency of Christ Jesus my Lord."

The following is the unfinished piece just alluded to:--

TO HER FATHER IN AMERICA.

And thus it was, as drew the moments nearer
That stamp'd their record deep oil every heart;
As day by day thy presence grew yet dearer,
By how much sooner thou shouldst hence depart.

Love wept indeed, though she might seem a sleeper,
Long ere descending tears the signs betray'd;
And the heart's fountain was but so much deeper,
The longer was its overflow delay'd.

The page my unapt heart has learn'd so newly
In the dark lessons which afflictions teach--
Oh, it were vain to try to utter truly
In the cold language of unapter speech.

That hearts when thus their very depths are burning
Alone should know their bitterness, is well;
But, oh, my heart more joys than aches in learning
Another lesson, would that words could tell.

New depths of love in measure unsuspected,
Ties closer than I knew, were round my heart;
And half I thank the wrench that has detected
How thoroughly and deeply dear thou art.

And 'twas to tell thee this that I have taken
The tuneless lyre I thought to use no more,
Yet once at thy returning may it waken,
Then sleep forever, silent as before.

And not more narrow than the dome of ether
Beams heaven's unbounded, earth-embracing scroll;
Then be it thine and ours to read together
Of Him who loves not less than rules the whole.

And not more slow than was the bark that bore thee
To an untried and dimly-distant land--
Our hearts' affections thither flew before thee,
And now are ready waiting on the strand.

--_8th Month_, 1845.

_10th Mo. 1st_. Much struck with the suitability of
the expression, "under the yoke," truly _subjugated_.
not merely offering this or that, but _being offered_ "a
living sacrifice." Oh for a thorough work like this!
This is "when the yoke Is easy and the burden
light." I know almost nothing of it by experience,
but think it is "now nearer than when I first
believed." For a day or two I have been given to
desire it earnestly.

_10th Mo. 12th_. Evening. Many thoughts about
faith in Christ. But oh for the reality, the living
essence of it! We can be Christians, not because
we believe that the blood of Christ cleanses from
sin, but because we _know_ the blood of Christ to
cleanse us from sin.

About this date, in the diary of daily affairs, is the following:--

"A conviction has come upon me that, in all
respects, now is the time to reform, if ever, the
course I am now pursuing. Religion, the main
thing, may it ever more be the main object; and
then, as to moral, social, and other duty, oh, be my
whole course reformed. ... From this time
forth may I nightly ask myself these five questions.
1. Has my employment and economy of time been
right? 2. Has my aim been duty--not pleasure?
3. Have I been quiet and submissive? 4. Have
I looked on the things of others as my own? 5.
Have propensities or sentiments ruled? I wish to
give an answer, daily, to each; and now say for
yesterday. 1. Some wasted time before dinner.
2. Pretty clear, 3. No temptation. 4. Pretty well.
5. Pretty [well] except at meals."

In this concise and simple manner are these questions answered, almost daily, throughout the year, until, "finding that daily records of employment are of little use, and that the intellectual and spiritual could not well be longer separated," she discontinued the practice, and recorded in the same book "any thing in either line that seemed fit to reserve from oblivion."

Alluding to a religious magazine, she writes:--

"It is always pulling down error--seldom building
up truth. Surely Antichrist comes to oppose Christ,
not Christ to oppose Antichrist. Is there, then, no
positive Christian duty? Are we never to rest in
principles and practices of actual faith and love? or
are we to be always on the offensive and negative
side, stigmatizing all who act contrary to our belief
of the truth as doers of the work of Antichrist?
Antichrist, I fear, cares little for orthodox doctrines,
but fights against the Christian spirit."

_9th Mo. 13th_. Conflicting thoughts again. I
long that there may be no building on any sandy
foundation. But oh, the fitness that appeared to me
this evening in the blessed Saviour to supply all my
need. The one sacrifice He has been, and the one
mediator and way to God He ever is,--His own
spirit the one leader, teacher, and sanctifier; whereby
He consummates in the heart the blessed work of
bringing all into subjection to the obedience of
Christ. Oh for a personal experience, a real participation
in all this, a knowledge that _He is my own
and that I am His_.

_16th_. Somewhat puzzled at myself. This has
not been a spiritually prosperous day--passed just to
my taste, much in reading, but not much, I fear, with
the Lord. Yet I have had very loving thoughts of
Christ this evening, and was ready to call Him _my
own dear Saviour_, though I trust on no other terms
than His terms, namely, that I should be wholly His.
Some misgivings are come up that I am tempted to
think Him mine when I am not in a state to be His;
some fears lest Satan has put on the winning smiles
of an angel of light; and yet where can I go but to
Thee, Saviour of sinners? Thou hast the words of
life and salvation; suffer me not to be deluded, but at
all hazards let me be Thine.

Thou who breakest not the bruised reed, oh, bring
forth in me judgment unto truth, and let me wait for
the _law of life and peace from Thee_.

_9th Mo. 18th_. Rode to Lodge to get ferns. Enjoyed
thoughts of the beauty of nature, imperfect
as it is, because one kind of beauty necessarily
excludes another. What, then, must be the essence
of that glory in which all perfection is beauty
united? Thus these things must be described to
mortal comprehension under contradictory images;
such as "pure gold, like unto transparent glass," &c.

_9th Mo. 19th_. I think harm is done by considering
a society such as "Friends," "a section of the
Christian Church," as societies are so often called.
It can be true only by considering the "Christian
Church" to mean _professing Christians_; but surely
its true meaning is the _children of God anywhere_.
Of this body, there are no _sections_ to be made by
man, or it would follow that to unite oneself to
either section, is to be united to the body, which
cannot be.

_10th Mo. 1st_. I fear I have so long been _childish_
and _thoughtless_, that I shall hardly ever be _childlike_
and _thoughtful_. Oh for a little more _care_ without
_carefulness!_

_10th Mo. 2d_. Much struck with Krummacher's
doctrine of "Once in grace, always in grace."
"After the covenant is made," he says, "I can do
nothing _condemnable_. I may do what is sinful or
weak, but my sins are all laid on my Surety." _True,_
if my will-spirit humbles itself to bear the reforming
judgment of the Lord--but I think his doctrine
utterly dangerous; his error is this, that "the
covenant cannot be broken." Now, suppose a
Christian, therefore, in the covenant; he sins, then
the Lord would put away his sin by cleansing him
from its pollution and power, by the blood of Christ,
who hath already borne the punishment thereof.
But he may refuse this cleansing, in other words,
this judgment, revealed within; not against _himself_,
as it must have been except for Christ's intercession,
but against the evil nature in him, and in love to
his soul. He may refuse this, because it cannot
but be painful, it cannot but include repentance for
his transgression, whereby he has admitted ground
to the enemy. And if he refuse it, persisting in
withdrawing his heart from that surrender, which
must have been made on his adoption into the covenant,
who shall say that the covenant is not at an
end? Who shall say that the way of the Lord is
not equal, in that, because he was once a righteous
man, made righteous by the righteousness of Christ,
"now, the righteousness that he hath had shall not
be mentioned unto him, but in his trespass he shall
die"? Far be it from me to say how long the Lord
shall bear with man; how long he may trespass ere
he dies forever; but I think it most presumptuous
to suppose that God _cannot in honor_ (for it does
come to this) disannul the covenant from which man
has already retracted all his share; though this,
truly, is but a passive one, a surrender of the will-spirit
to the faith of Jesus.

What good it does me to clear up my ideas on
prayer! but there is a limit beyond which intellect
cannot go. No one can fully explain the admission
of evil into the heart. We say "it is because I
listen to temptation;" but why do I listen, to temptation?
Because I did not watch unto prayer. The
Calvinist would say, perhaps, "Because I am without
the covenant;" but he allows that a person may sin
who is in it. Suppose I am one of these? The
origin of evil must ever be hidden, but not of evil
only; the _moral nature of man must ever be a mystery
to his intellectual nature, for it is above it._
There is a _natural testimony_ to the supremacy of the
_moral_ in man above the intellectual.

_10th Mo. 8th_. The charm of book and pen has
been beguiling me of my reward; but now my soul
craves to be offered a living sacrifice.

_10th Mo. 19th_. The world was fearfully my snare
yesterday,--I mean worldly objects, innocent, in
themselves. These things only show the depth of
unrenewed nature within. Though it slumbered, it
could not be dead. My "wilderness wanderings,"
oh, I fear they must be exceedingly protracted ere
the hosts that have come out of Egypt with me fall;
ere I can find _in myself_ that blessed possession of the
promised inheritance, which, I believe, _in this life_ is
the portion of the _thorough_ Christian: "they that
believe _do_ enter into rest." Why, then, do not I?
Oh, it is for want of believing; for want of faith; I
fear to trust the Lord to give me my inheritance and
conquer my foes, and will not "go up and possess
the land." Then, again, in self-confidence, I _will_ go
up, whether the Lord be with me or not; and so I
fall. But surely, surely it _need_ be so no longer. I
_might_ devote myself to Christ, and He would lead me
safely through all. The shining of the fire and the
shading of the cloud are yet in the ordering of the
Captain of Salvation.

_20th_. Exceeding poor; and yet I rejoice in what
I trust is somewhat of the poverty of spirit which is
blessed.

"Nothing in my hand I bring;
Simply to Thy cross I cling;
To the cleansing fount I fly:
Wash me, Saviour, or I die."

_21st_. I feel myself in much danger of falling,--manifold
temptations all round to love the world, and
how little _stay_ within!

_22d._ Yet the Lord was kind, most kind, to me in
the evening, constraining me to say within my heart,
"Surely I am united to Christ my Saviour." Oh,
the joy of feeling that we are in any measure _His!_
May I by no means withdraw myself from His
hands, that He may do for me all that His mercy
designs, and which I am well assured is but _begun._
This morning a crumb of bread was given me, in the
shape of a sense that Christ is yet mine, but that He
will be _waited on_ in simplicity of heart to do His _own
work._ Oh, the comfort of having a fountain to flee
to _set open_ for sin! hourly have I need of it.

_11th Mo. 2d_. I have felt deeply the necessity of
the thorough subjugation of the _will_ to the Divine
will: if it were effected, all must work for good to
me. Little cross-occurrences, instead of exciting
ill tempers, would serve as occasions for strengthening
my faith in God. When He giveth quietness,
what should make trouble? 'Tis wonderful to think
what long-suffering kindness the Lord has shown
me! I can compare myself only to the prodigal
son saying, "Give me my portion of goods"--goods
spiritual; as if I thought once furnished, never
again to have recourse to a father's compassion. Oh,
often have I wasted this substance in a very short
time; but the Lord has reckoned better than I
in my self-confidence. He saw how I should have to
come back utterly destitute, and again and again has
had mercy. Oh that I might no more ask for a portion
to carry away, but seek to dwell among the servants
and the children of His house, to be fed
hourly by Him, learning in what sense He does say
to those who are willing to have nothing of their
own, "All that I have is thine."

_12th Mo. 6th_. Nice journey to Falmouth. Here
we have been since Second-day learning our own
manifold deficiencies; but this, under a genial atmosphere,
is, to me, never disheartening,--always an
exciting, encouraging lesson. ----'s kind words
on intellectual presence of mind, and his animating
example of it, have determined me to make a vigorous
effort over my own sloth and inanity. I believe
the first thing is to be always conscious of what I am
thinking of, and never to let my mind run at loose
ends in senseless reveries.

_12th Mo. 25th_. Seventh-day. I trust, now we
are all together for the winter, there will be an effort
on my part to help to keep up a higher tone of feeling,
aim, and conversation: not mere gossip, but
really to speak to each other for some good purpose,
is what I do wish. What an engine, for good or
evil, we neglect and almost despise! and if it is not
employed properly, when at home, how can it be
naturally and intelligently exercised when abroad?

_Fourth-day, 31st_. Called on a poor sick man,--he
quietly waiting, I hope, for a participation in perfect
peace, and penetrated with the sense that man can do
nothing of himself. Surely this must be a step towards
knowing what God can do. I hope he will be
able to see and say something more yet; but I would
not ask him for any sort of confession. It is a fearful
thing to interfere with one who seems evidently
in hands Divine.

Thus ended 1845. Oh that it had been better
used, more valued, more improved in naturals, intellectuals,
and spirituals! Oh that I had cultivated
kindness and dutiful affection in the meekness of
wisdom; and as an impetus seems to have been lately
received to industry in study, etc., oh, may God
give me grace to spend another year, so far as I
live through it, in industrious Christianity too!

_1st Mo. 7th_, 1846. I should gratefully acknowledge
the loving-kindness and tender mercy which,
after all my wanderings, has again been shown: "I
will prepare their heart, I will cause their ear to hear,"
was sweet to me this morning. Though sometimes
lamenting that I hear so little of the voice of pardon
and peace, I have felt this morning that I have ever
heard as much as was safe for me in the degree of
preparation yet known.

_1st Mo. 19th_. Some earnest desires last evening,
this morning, and in the night, to be set right in
spirit. Struck with the text, "His countenance doth
behold the upright,"--not that the upright always
behold His countenance: that is not the thing their
safety consists in. "Thou most upright dost weigh
the path of the just," that is, of the truly sincere
and devoted. Ah! how blessed that such an unerring
balance should apportion the way of a finite and
blind being!

_3d Mo. 2d_. Little E.P. died last week, aged three
years,--a child whom God had taught. I ventured a
little poem for his mamma, I think without harm.
The poetry-contest, some time since, was doubtless
useful as a check, but I seem to have lost the prohibition,
and enjoy, I hope, innocently.

_Sixth-day_. School, more encouraged than sometimes:
got on well with geography-class; visited
various poor people,--feeling very useless, but some
satisfaction. Oh, it were a sweet thing to do good
from the right motive, as a _natural_ effect of love.
I fear I do my poor share more to satisfy conscientiousness;
and that is a dull thing.

_3d Mo. 17th_. Faith small, world strong; but this
evening something like grasping after "the childly
life beyond." A childly life I want. Oh for simplicity,
faith, quietness, self-renunciation!

Yesterday rode alone to Wheal, Sister's mine. Gave
W.B. tracts for the girls. Thence to Captain N.,
to get his daughters to collect for Bibles. His nice
wife seemed interested; said it was very needful.
Many families had not a Bible there; the place a
century behind the West. Rode home dripping, but
glad that I had not been turned back. Learned part
of the 42d Psalm in German.

_3d Mo. 27th_. What testimony of gratitude can I
record to that tender mercy which has drawn near to
me this evening? Oh that the "Anon with joy"
reception may not be united with the "no root in
myself"! I have thought of the Israelitish wanderings,
caused by faithless folly in refusing to "go up
and possess the land." Oh, that lack of living appropriating
faith may not thus protract the period
ere my own passage through the spiritual Jordan, the
river of self-renunciation, and death of the "old
man," into the Beulah of a thorough introduction to
the sheepfold! It is easy to say that it would be too
presumptuous to venture on the final, full, childlike
appropriation of Christ; but, oh, presumption, I do
deeply feel, is more concerned in the delay. It is
presumptuous to put off, till brighter evidences and
clearer offers of mercy, the acceptance of grace to-day.

_4th Mo. 14th._ The Lord has been kind to me
beyond expression. Not rapturous feeling, but calm
and peaceful confidence,--though sometimes almost
giving way to "the world, the flesh, and the devil,"
sometimes letting go faith; but, oh, He has been near
through all; then when His face has shone upon me,
how have I wondered that ever I loved the earth,
more than Himself!

_5th Mo. 3d. Bristol._ On the way to the Yearly
Meeting. _First-day._ Most interesting meeting. I
think the connection of evangelical doctrine with
Christian worship is often not enough considered.
The mere natural unsanctified dread or awe of the
Lord's presence is very different from that worship
of God which is through Christ our Lord, who has
made a way of access for us to the Father, who Himself
loveth us. If this be overlooked, there is little
essential distinction between Christian worship, and
Oriental gnosticism--the delusion of raising the soul
above the natural, by abstraction and contemplation
of the Divine. This is the distinguishing glory of
the gospel, that whereas the children of Israel said
to Moses, "Speak thou to us, but let not God speak
to us, lest we die," Christ, his antitype, hath broken
down for his people "the middle wall of partition,"
hath abolished the enmity, and speaketh to us Himself
as God, and yet as once in our flesh.

_5th Mo. 10th_. Letter from father, from _Niagara_.
Awful spectacle, and most edifying emblem of His
unchanging word of power whose voice is as the
sound of many waters.

This evening had a nice meeting; my soul longed
for light and life in the assembly.

Of our dear father's safe arrival in Liverpool we
heard on our way to the train in the morning, and
now we settled in to expect him we had so long lost!

And, after meeting him in London and alluding to conversation with friends who called to see him, she says,--

"But with father the fact of presence, real
meeting, actual talk, seemed more engrossing than
the thing talked. Oh that I had a really grateful
heart to the Lord for these His mercies!"

_7th_. [Alluding to a meeting at Devonshire House.]
It is, indeed, "looking not at the things which are
seen," when we really accept with equal, nay, with
greater, joy, His will to speak by the little as by the
great, or by His Spirit only, when communion of
truth is preferred to communication of the true.

_5th Mo. 29th_. And now that my London experience
is over, as to meetings, preachings, prayers,
what, oh, what is the result on this immortal spirit
of mine, which has on this occasion been brought,
as it were, in _contact_ with some of the honorable
and anointed messengers, with that which is good?
And yet it is possible that contact may not produce
_penetration_, and that _penetration_ may not produce
_assimilation_. I can unhesitatingly say, the first and
second have been produced; but then these are but
transactions of the time, not abiding transformations;
and if these are all? But, surely, it cannot be;
surely, when my heart melted within me, especially
on Second-day morning, and I heard the word "and
anon with joy received it," some depth of central
stone was fused into softness; some actual change,
effected, that I might not have altogether "no root"
in myself. Sometimes predominated a fear that intellectual
interest interfered with spiritual simple
reception of good, that _this_ would vanish when _that_
was over; sometimes the responsibility of being thus
ministered to was truly a weighty thought; for never
more than on that morning did I so understand, "Go
preach, baptizing." Sometimes I thought that God
had indeed brought me to this Yearly Meeting to
make me then and there his own; and when I heard
of passing by transgressions as a cloud, I was ready
to think my own were indeed dissolving as one. I
felt strongly the superiority of religion to every
other thing, not merely for its external aim, God,
but for its internal power on self, how these masterpieces
of the human creation were not only made the
most of by religion, but that _it_ alone can make any
thing of the _whole man_. How strongly do we feel,
when with a clever, talented, irreligious man, that he
has a latent class of moral powers which have not
been called into action, that on this point he may be
inferior to the veriest child; but God, who has made
man for himself, has made in every man a royal
chamber, for himself spiritually to dwell in; and if
this be not reappropriated to him, (which is religion,)
his capacity for the Divine is not exercised, and he
is not only not made the most of, but his best nature
is not even made use of. What a privilege to have
intercourse with those in whom the very reverse is
the case! What a stimulus to the little mind, to
become not equal to the great, but proportionally
Christianized--_i.e._ equally devoted! and this is
Christian perfection; not to have arrived at the
highest attainment of intercourse with God ever
granted to man, but to have the will thoroughly willing
God's will. This is, indeed, better far than a
mere knowledge of what that will is. But in some
whom I have seen, there is a beautiful union of a
high degree of this knowing and willing; and these
are they to whom it is given to edify the Church.

* * * How shall I enough praise and thank the
Lord, who has so condescended to my weak and
sinful condition, that though my head perhaps knew
all before, and my heart was disobedient, He has so
brought me under the mighty ministry of His Word
of life, that for a while _all_ seemed melted and subjected,
and my heart longed to accept Him and his
reconciliation to me on the blessed terms, _not_ the
harsh terms, but the privileged terms, of my being
reconciled to Him. Oh, what an error to think any
thing harsh or hard in the requirements of the gospel!
It is a mercy beyond man's conception, that we
are commanded, "Be ye holy, for I am holy."

_6th Mo. 12th_. Yesterday my twenty-third birthday.
In the evening a song of praise seemed to fill
my heart for the vast mercy shown me of late. God,
who is rich in mercy for His great love wherewith He
loved me when I was dead in sins, has truly begun
to quicken my heart.

_6th Mo. 12th_. Had a note from ---- of kind
spiritual interest; but I think she mistakes my want,
which is more of practical than of theoretical faith.
Have ventured to tell her, in a note, what I feel and
have felt. I think many who have left Friends, and
become more decidedly serious since, remembering
that when Friends, the gospel was not precious to
them, fancy it is undervalued by the Society. My
note is as follows:--

My dear --- will, I hope, believe that I was not disposed
to receive her affectionate lines in any other than
that spirit of love in which they were written, and in
which, I am persuaded, it is the will of our blessed
Saviour for His disciples "that they all may be one."
Yes, my dear ----, I believe there is not a sentence in
thine in which I do not heartily join; and while we are
both seeking to believe, as thou says, "with the heart"
in Christ our Saviour, "in whom we have redemption,
through His blood, even the forgiveness of sins," let us
say not only, "Here is a point on which we can unite,"
but here is the one bond of fellowship, which unites the
whole ransomed Church, throughout the world, and
especially those who love each other, as I trust we do.
If we were more willing to let Christ be our all in all,
surely we should more realize this blessed truth. Disputations
on theoretical differences seem to me like disputes
on the principles of a fire-escape among those
whose sole rescue depends on at once committing themselves
to it, since the most perfect understanding of its
principles is utterly in vain if they continue mere
_lookers-on;_ while others, with perhaps far less _head-_knowledge,
are safely landed. This, it seems to me, is
the distinction between head-knowledge and heart-knowledge,
between dead creed and living faith; and every
day, I think, more convinces me that it is "with the
_heart_ that man believeth unto righteousness." As thou
hast so kindly spoken of myself, and thy kind interest
for me, may I add that what I have known, small though
it be, of this faith, has been all of grace; nor do I hope
or wish but that it may be, from first to last, of grace
alone. If I love Christ, it is because He first loved me:
because God, who is rich in mercy, has shown me the
great love wherewith He loved me, when I was dead in
sins; nor should I have had one glimpse "of the knowledge
of the glory of God, in the face of Jesus Christ,"
had not God, who "commanded the light to shine out of
darkness," shined into my heart. And dark and sad
has ever been the view of myself bestowed by that grace
which brings salvation, long shining as it were to make
my darkness visible; but this do I esteem one of His rich
mercies, who will have no rival in His children's hearts,
and teaches us our own utter depravity and sinfulness;
that we may, without any reserve, fly to Him, "who has
borne our sins in His own body on the tree, that we might
be saved from wrath through Him." And if it is of
grace, that while we were yet sinners, "we were reconciled
to God by the death of His Son," it is by grace also,
that "being reconciled, we shall be saved by His life."
It is "not by works of righteousness which we have
done, but according to His mercy He saveth us, by the
washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy
Ghost." And here I find abundant need to take heed
that I "receive not the grace of God in vain;" for truly
Christ cannot be ours, if we will not be his. But though
I have to lament many a revolt, and many a backsliding,
and many a denial in heart of Christ my Saviour, yet
the Lord, who turned and looked on Peter, has not forsaken
me; the fountain set open for sin has been, I
believe, set open for me; and still does He continue to
"heal my backslidings, and to love me _freely_." For
the future I have sometimes many a fear, because of
this deceitful heart of mine; and at others I can trust
it in His hands, whose grace will be sufficient for me to
the end,--that end, when I may realize, what I now
assuredly believe, that the "_gift_ of God is eternal life
through Jesus Christ our Lord." And now, my dear
----, are we not one, essentially one, both one in Christ?
I know that, uniting in the acknowledgment, and, above
all, I trust, in the experience, of the great truths of the
gospel, we differ in their applications and influences on
subordinate points, and I believe this must be expected
to be often the case while "we see through a glass
darkly;" but we shall, I trust, "see eye to eye, when
the Lord shall bring again Zion;" and He will keep that
which we have committed unto Him against that day.
The Lord's "commandment is _exceeding broad_," and it
is no wonder that our narrow minds cannot adequately
appreciate the whole, or that, while we believe the same
things, we sometimes view them in different order and
proportion, often being nearer each other than we are
aware. I fear much good is not done by discussing differences;
at least, _I_ find it calls up feelings which are
not good, and I lose more practically than I get or give
theoretically. May the Lord bless us both in our pilgrimage,
and guide us in a plain path to a city of final
habitation, where we shall not want sun, or moon, or any
other thing than the glory of God and the Lamb, to be
our everlasting light.

I could not be satisfied without replying to thy kind
remarks and inquiries about myself and my hopes; but
now, having said so much, I hope thou wilt not think it
strange that I cannot _argue_ on things about which we
differ. I have not adopted opinions without reflection,
and it has fully satisfied myself; but I have nothing to
spend in controversy, which I always find does me a
great deal of harm. I hope we now know enough of
each other to rejoice in each other's joy.

_6th Mo. 16th_. Last evening alone in the plantation.
Sought the Lord. It was beautiful. Was not
nature meant by Him to work in concert with His
spirit on our hearts? Or is the calming and soothing
power a thing confined to sense and sensibility? I
suppose the latter, but that religion appropriates these
as well as all other faculties and parts of man's nature,
and, where he would have praised nature, bids him
praise God, his own God in Christ.

_6th Mo. 18th_. I have thought this summer a time
of critical importance for my soul, for eternity. I
have felt, and sometimes spoken, strongly, but always,
I believe, honestly, unless I have imposed upon myself.
Thought I had accepted Christ. I thought He
was my salvation and my all. "Yet once more" will
the Lord shake not my earthly heart, but also my
heaven, my hopes, my expectations, in Him. Will
He convict me still of holding the truth in unrighteousness?
How else can I explain to myself the
pride which revolts from censure, the touchy disposition,
the self-justifying spirit, the jealousy of my reputation,
the anxiety to keep up my character? How
else can I explain the inaptitude for the divine, the
unwillingness to have the veil quite lifted from my
heart, to display it even to my own eyes? Ah! is it
not that there is still a double mind and instability in
all my ways, still a want of that simplicity of faith,
that humility, and poverty, and meekness of spirit,
that can accept the gospel, still the self-righteousness
(worse than "I am of Paul") which assumes to itself
"_I_ of Christ"? Ah! if I may yet lift my eyes
through Him who hath borne even the iniquity of
our holy things, keep me, O Lord, from a wider
wandering, till Thou bring me fully into the fold,
the "little flock," to whom it is Thy good pleasure to
give thy kingdom.