Chapter III: Part 3

_7th Mo. 5th_. * * * It is useless to conceal from
myself that I have felt grieved at some, whom we
might suppose grounded in the faith long since, appearing
to keep the expression of sole reliance on the
mercy of God in Jesus Christ, as a sort of death-bed
confession. I know full well that religion must be an
actual transformation of soul; but then the ground
of our hope that this will be _perfectly_ effected ere
we depart, is the mercy of God in Christ, quite as
much as our hope of forgiveness of actual sin, and
final salvation. Oh, some do separate things too much,
as if it were possible to err by too full a reliance
on Christ; as if there was a danger that He or
we should, by _that_ means, forget the work of grace.
Grace is grace throughout, not of works, but of Him
that calleth. Still, I believe there must and will be
variations in our modes of viewing the great gospel,
the "exceeding broad" commandment. May we, as
S. Tuke so beautifully said, "know one another in
the one bond of brotherhood, 'One Lord, one faith,
one baptism;'" without entering into nice distinctions
and metaphysical subtleties. And may I, to
whom temptations of this kind are naturally so accessible,
be preserved in my own spirit from the snares
of death, cleansed "from secret faults," kept from
"presumptuous sins," and hidden in the Lord's
pavilion from the strife of tongues.

_7th Mo. 9th_. I have been thinking much of the
young women at the Union, and yesterday went to
see them. A sad spectacle; but they seemed willing
and glad to be visited, and I hope to go once a week
to read to them, and to teach a few of them to read.
Oh that my life were more useful than it is!

_7th Mo. 18th_. Oh, why was I induced to allow
thoughts and reasonings to supplant worship! How
they plead their own utility, and how like good is the
thought about good! but then the dry, barren, unsatisfied
unrest of soul that followed! Strange, that
thought employed to so little purpose at other times
should pretend to be so edifying in meetings. Reveries
on probability, as being a mere relation between a
cause and a spectator, or bystander; not between cause
and effect. Thought it important touching free will
and foreknowledge. God is certain of futurity--we
are uncertain. Futurity is certain in relation to God,
uncertain in relation to us--probable or improbable in
relation to us, neither in relation to God; but neither
the certainty nor the probability exists in future non-existent
fact, therefore I take it they do not influence
the fact. This, perhaps, is profitless; but I am glad
to find that thought on this point always tends to confirm
what I believe is the true scriptural doctrine in
opposition to Calvinism. This was a natural reaction
on the minds of reformers from the Romish doctrine
of justification by works. They no sooner found that
man cannot make his own salvation, than they fancied
he could not reject it. They learned that it was freely
given to some, and fancied that it could not have been
freely offered to all.

_7th Mo. 20th_. Mere carnal conscientiousness is a
poor substitute for love of God. The constant inquiry,
"What must I do to keep an easy conscience?"
is no proof of high Christian attainment; rather
says the Christian, "What can I render for all His
benefits?"

_7th Mo. 30th_. A visit to J. Harvey's corpse. [A
poor man whom she had frequently visited.] I have
been much concerned about him in days past, and
now can a little rejoice in his exceeding joy. An
emaciated, sallow countenance, but speaking perfect
rest. He spoke scarcely at all for some days. I saw
him three days before his death, and could but commend
him to one of the "many mansions;" but he
could scarcely answer.

A few passages about this period, record Eliza's desire for a friendship with some sympathizing mind out of her own family,--some one whose views, whilst tending to the same point as her own, would yet have the freshness of an altogether different experience. Not that she undervalued home affections, for that would have been quite contrary to her nature, but, after alluding to them warmly, she says, "At the same time, we want a friendship for the rest of our faculties and minds; and it cannot be, I believe, that _one_ family should supply to any one of its members all that it is capable of appreciating and experiencing in the way of friendship." Another entry states, "I have a new friendship with M.B., which promises substantial comfort. Just the thing I have wished for all my life. We have exchanged two letters on each side." This acquaintance ripened into a connection which was afterwards steadily maintained,--although the intercourse of the two friends was principally by letter. That circumstance, however, has caused the preservation of thoughts and sentiments which otherwise would have been unrecorded; and, as the letters offer much of an interesting character, copious extracts from them are hereafter given:

_8th Mo. 2d_. Letter to M.B.

* * * Surely, whoever is not a true friend to himself
and to his own best interests cannot be such to
another. Here, indeed, if I may hope to have part or
lot in the matter, the thing aimed at is high; but this
does not insure its attainment, and there is great cause
for care that the humiliating discovery of the discrepancy
between the two, does not lead us to lower the one rather
than seek to elevate the other. I have a strong belief
of the importance of self-scrutiny and honesty with one's
own heart, of real willingness to know and feel the
worst of one's self, and sincerity of application to the
true means of remedy. Perhaps the very sense of deficiency
in this particular, makes me believe the more its
value; but I dislike what I think to be the false humility
of some persons, who, while seeming to claim the
_blessings_ of religion, would think it presumption to profess,
or even expect, conformity to its standard. The
presumption always seems to me on the other side; and
yet who is free from it altogether? Very long it takes
some persons--of whom I am one--to get through the
seventh chapter of Romans. Many a time they get to
the twenty-fourth verse, and stick in the twenty-fifth,
looking wishfully over the barrier which divides them
from the eighth chapter; and yet, if thoroughly willing
to know the worst of themselves, they would perhaps
find that it is because a _part_ of a man's nature may go
so far, while it requires the _whole_ spirit to make this
last transition. I think I long for true humiliation in
the evidence of my own deficiency here.

* * * * *

I did, indeed, enjoy the Yearly Meeting's Epistle: it
is a wholesome one in these days. How refreshing is
it in thought, to abstract ourselves from the words and
doings of men, and think of that _one_ eternal unchanging
truth, which can never be inconsistent with itself and
which, though hid from the wise and prudent, is revealed
to babes! Here I think the belief of the identity
of our own character hereafter, comes in well, and
should lead us to consider whether we love truth absolutely,
and not only relatively to the circumstances
which will not exist then; and whether we can be happy
in a land where righteousness and peace forever kiss
each other. And may I, without vanity and just in
illustration, quote from a rhyme of my own?--

While thus we long, in bonds of clay,
For freedom's advent bright,
Upbraid the tardy wheels of day,
And call the slumbering light,

Do we no willing fetters wear
Which our own hands have made,
No self-imposed distresses bear,
And court no needless shade?

While our departed friends to meet
We often vainly sigh,
To hold in heaven communion sweet,
Communion large and high,

Do we, while here on earth we dwell,
Those pure affections show
For which we long to bid farewell
To all we love below?

For no unhallow'd footstep falls
Upon that floor of gold;
Those pearly gates, those crystal walls,
No earthly hearts enfold.

And if our voice on earth be strange
To notes of praise and prayer,
That voice it is not death's to change,
Would make but discord there.

_8th Mo. 10th_. Strange vacillations of feeling; at
one time on the point of trusting the Lord for
eternity, at another, cannot trust him even for time.
At one time would cast my whole soul on him; at
another, will bear the weight of every straw myself,
till I become quite overloaded with them. Oh,
what a spectacle of folly, and weakness, and sin!
A soul immortal spending all her powers, wasting
her strength in strenuous idleness!

_8th Mo. 16th_. Very busy making things tidy,
and resolved, almost religiously, to keep them so.
I think I would not, for any consideration, die with
all my things in disorder. Disorder must be the
result of a disordered mind, and not only so, it
reacts on the mind and makes it worse in turn.

_8th Mo. 18th_. People do not say enough of the
need of _consistency_, when they speak of trusting in
Providence instead of arms. It was consistent in
William Penn, but it would not have been consistent
in his contemporaries, who took the Indians'
land for nought. Providence is not to be made a
protector of injustice, of which arms are the fitting
shield. Oh that consistency, earnestness of character,
were more valued!

_8th Mo. 23d_. Some true wish, may I say prayer,
that Christ may now, _now_, blot out as a cloud my
sins, even on his own terms, which, I am more convinced,
do not consist of things required of us to
give in exchange for his mercy, but are a part of
that mercy, a part of that redemption. Yes, when
sin becomes thoroughly a burden, as sin, then we see
that grace would be indeed imperfect, if it was not
to be a deliverance from the _power_, as well as the
punishment, of sin; and if we ask for grace, and yet
cherish sin, truly we know not what spirit we are
of, we wish not for complete salvation while we are
asking for it. Mercy is a broader thing than our
most earnest prayers suppose; yea, it is "above all
that we can ask or think."

_8th Mo_. Letter to M.B.

* * * How little it avails to know the theory of
wisdom and folly, right and wrong, etc., just so as to
occupy only the perceptive and reasoning faculties!
What we want, what the world wants, I think, is the
_Christian_ version of the present so fashionable idea of
_earnestness_, or, as I have thought it may imply, _consistency_
of character. We get ideas and opinions in a _dead_
way, and then they do not _pervade_ our characters; we
have but half learned them; they have influenced not
our feeling, but only our knowing faculties, and then
perhaps it had been better not to have known the way
of truth. A full response is in my heart to the difficulty
of keeping things in their right places, neither can I at
all agree to the idea "that where the love of the world
perverts one, the fear of it perverts ten;" at least, understanding
the world to mean "whatever passes as I
cloud between the mental eye of faith and things unseen."
Many a time has the book-shelf and the writing-desk
been made a substitute for the oratory. As to
friendship taking this place, surely the whole idea of a
_Church_ is based on that of Christian fellowship in its
strict sense. Be it ours to know what _that_ means, and
then, if our love to Christ is the main bond of union,
while that continues, we shall love him the more rather
than the less on that account. But I know that friendship
includes various other elements, and may we be
sensible that if these are made the main things in our
esteem, not only our faith, but our friendship too, becomes
debased.

Respecting the seventh and eighth chapter of Romans,
a believe I agree with thee; but lately I have had
stronger feelings than I used to have about the distinction
between _defective_ religion and _infant_ religion.
The full feeling of our corruption must certainly precede
the full reception of the Christian's joy; and I believe
we ought not to be too anxious to reduce to regular
theory what is so much above our finite understandings
as the work of the Holy Spirit in the heart. Still, I
think there is, when it goes on as it ought to do, unobstructed,
a completeness in all its stages. There may
and ought to be a perfect infant, then a perfect youth,
then a perfect man, and I don't know how to apply to
the advanced stage only; that blessed declaration which I
sometimes think expresses the sum of Christian liberty,
"There is, therefore, now no condemnation to them which
are in Christ Jesus." Still, it will be quite time enough
to reason about this when we have attained such an entirely
childlike state; nor, I suppose, shall we be long
in discovering the privilege of which we shall then be in
possession--"Of such is the kingdom of heaven." Then,
doubtless, we shall be furthest from reasoning at all.

We have been much interested with the last volume
of D'Aubigné. The imperfection of all the instruments
is strikingly shown. Luther's obstinate transubstantiation
or consubstantiation doctrines, Melancthon's timid
concessions to the Papists, and Zwingle's carnal warfare,
ending in the tragedy of Cappel, and, as it seems, in the
long delay of the establishment of the Reformation in
Switzerland. D'Aubigné appears very sensible of this
inconsistency: even the loss of Ecolampadius by a peaceful
death he represents as a happy encouragement to
the Church after the blow it had received; but I don't
think D'Aubigné a thorough peace advocate. He makes
so much distinction between the Churchman and Statesman,
that I fear he would allow of _mere_ rulers and
magistrates taking up arms on _merely_ secular affairs,
though he does not wish the Church to be defended by
such. I should like to know thy impression of the early
Christians' opinion on war. Neander allows that a _party_
objected to it, as in the case of Maximilian, A.D. 229;
but says that very sincere Christians were soldiers in
the Roman army, till Galerius required all soldiers to
take part in the heathen ceremonies.

_8th Mo. 26th_. Oh, how shall I set forth His
tender compassion, who has blessed me this evening
with, I was going to say, the abundance of peace
and truth? Oh, how near He has been, helping me
to cast my all on Him, helping me to leave the
things that are behind, yes, and the things that are
before too, as far as self is concerned, and commit
my future way and safety to Him! When His love
has been made known, how have I been grieved by
fears of future folly, fears, too, that have been grievously
fulfilled. What a pretest this for harassing
myself with fears that it will be so again! But, oh,
these fears are very far from that fear which the
Lord will put into His children's hearts, that they
shall not depart from Him. They have no preserving
power over me; they are "of the earth, earthy," and
solely come from distrust of that grace which is ever-sufficient;
from a desire to have a share myself in
that victory which is Christ's alone. Oh, if my incessant
regards were to Him alone, He would take
all care on Himself. "He is the same yesterday, to-day,
and forever," and His faith _is_ "the victory
which overcomes the world." Humility, true watchfulness,
and self-distrust are diametrically opposed
to this careful spirit: their language ever is, "I am
nothing, Christ is all."

_8th Mo. 27th_. Changed indeed; not any light to
be seen in my dark heart. Yet I look up, I trust
singly, to Him from whom it came yesterday; and
thither may I look till again the day break. Can I
say, in full sincerity, "_more_ than they that watch
for the morning"? Alas that I am so versatile!
Christian and worldling within a day. Oh for a
deeper sense that I am not my own,--that I have no
right to disturb the sanctuary of my own spirit
when God has made it such,--that there is no other
way than whole-hearted and honest-hearted Christianity
to attain the heavenly kingdom!

_9th Mo. 9th_. Letter to M.B.

* * * Our wily foe finds every thing which produces
strong emotion and commotion of mind a good
opportunity for trying new temptations, and, at any
rate, tries hard to keep us from committing all to a
better hand than ours. I feel quite ashamed of the
measure of his success with me; but surely we want a
new sanctification every day,--a new recurrence to the
grace that will _set_ "all dislocated bones," as J. Fletcher
calls unsanctified feelings and affections. I was much
pleased with this comparison, which I found in his life
the other day. I think it is an admirable exemplification
of the uneasiness and pain of mind they cause.
But how very uncertain our frames of feeling are;
sometimes thinking there is but _one_ thing which we have
not _quite_ given up to God, and sometimes, with perhaps
correcter judgment, lamenting, "_all my bones_ are out
of joint." May we, my dear M., encourage each other
in seeking help of Him who received and healed all
that had need of healing.

_9th Mo. 20th_. Finished most interesting review
of John Foster's life. * * * Foster was a very
deep thinker. He thought the boundary of the
knowable wider than the generality do. This may
be; but I fancy he does not always admit sufficient
weight in his arguments to the manifest relations
and actings of the unknown upon the known. He
was Calvinistic; this, joined to a strong view of the
moral perfection and benevolence of God, led him
to the natural result of denying _eternal_ punishments.
Could he have seen more of the essence of a human
spirit, as he doubtless now sees it, I venture to think
that that mysterious personality, by virtue of which
man may be said to choose his destiny, _i.e._ to embrace
destruction, or to submit to be saved by the Saviour
in his own way, that the perception of this personal
image of God in man might vindicate the Divine
perfection and benevolence, and make it evident that
our "salvation is of God, and our destruction is of
ourselves."

_10th Mo. 2d_. Oh to be permitted any taste of
that grace which is free--ever free; which brings a
serene reliance on eternal love; which imprints its
own reflection on the soul! Oh, be that reflection
unbroken by restless disquiets of mind; be that
image watchfully prized, and waited for, and waited in.

_10th Mo. 5th_. Some sweetness in thinking how
much akin is "having nothing" to "possessing all
things."

_10th Mo. 14th_. Talk with James Teare on the
immorality of drinking. Query:--Is it _per se_ a _sin_
to drink a little? He does not affirm it in pure
abstract, but says that no _action_ can be purely
abstract; and that as to uphold an immoral system
is immoral, as the drinking system is immoral, as
moderate draughts uphold the drinking system, and,
in fact, cannot be drunk by the community without
giving birth to drunkenness--_ergo_, moderate drinking
is an immoral practice. He does not at all judge
those who do not see it; only says they ought to
accept light and knowledge, and he cannot doubt
what would then be the result.

_10th Mo. 17th_. The above talk with J. Teare was
a great satisfaction to me; we went that evening to
his meeting, and after two hours of deep interest in
a crowded meeting I signed the pledge, with a hand
trembling with emotion. I could not trust myself to
tell S. that the pleasure he expressed was but a faint
reflection of mine. I have been expending two days
in a letter to the _Friend_ on "Distillation," which I
ardently hope to get inserted.

_11th Mo. 3d_. Last evening sweetly realized in
some degree being in the Lord's own hands; and
this morning again enabled to cease from my own
vain attempts and trust the Lord. Oh, the folly of
the long trials I have made to _do_ something, when I
come before Him! It is all in vain. If I am ever
saved it will be His doing, His _free grace_; and this
moment can I call Jesus _my_ Saviour. On Fifth-day
I read Barclay's fifth Proposition--pleased and
satisfied almost entirely with it.

_12th Mo. 5th_. I have got my letter inserted in
the _Friend_; the editor says my zeal has carried me
too far as to _means_; he agrees as to the evil of the
system. Oh that it were seen as it deserves! But
how talk of abolition by _law_, and keep spirit-merchants
in the Church? [See _Friend_, vol. iv. page
232.]

_12th Mo. 11th_.--Letter to M.B.

* * * _Nothing_, I think, loses by its foundation
being tried. We see that in yet higher things it is needful
and right often to try whether principle is firm; and,
though sometimes we may tremble lest faith should fall
in the trial, perhaps it would be more just to fear lest
the trial should merely show it already to have fallen.
What thou sayest about laying aside reasoning is very
true; but how hard to do so! Saul's armor doubtless it
is, as says the little tract. How easy, comparatively, to
let any want go unsatisfied, rather than that imperious
reason which urges its claim with so many good pretences,
which tells us truth will always bear investigation,
and that if we cannot explain by our small faculties
experiences in which the highest mysteries are involved,
the experiences must have been fallacious! How different
is _this sort_ of voluntary and almost presumptuous self-investigation
from submitting all to the unerring touchstone!
It is, indeed, very instructive to observe that our
Saviour's rejoicing in spirit was not over the subjects of
some wondrous apocalypse, or over those endowed with
miraculous power, but over "babes;" and that in the
same way His lamentation was not that the Jews had
refused His offers of any thing of this kind, but that
they "would not" be "gathered" by Him as "chickens
under their mother's wing."

It was the fault of my obscure expression, that when
I spoke of my "painful reason" I did not make it apparent
that I meant it of the _faculty_ of reason, which
has been a very unquiet occupant of my mind for some
years past, and which has led me to the conclusion that
our mental atmosphere, the whole system of feelings,
affections, hopes, doubts, fears, perplexities, etc., is one
which it is dangerous _needlessly_ and wilfully to disturb.
When once we have carelessly wrought up a storm it is
not in our own power so quickly to lay it, and the poor
mind is almost compelled to endure passively the disturbance
till these unruly elements spontaneously subside,
or something better interferes for its help. Surely,
if there has been any resting-place given us, if our eyes
have ever seen the "quiet habitation," we ought to fear
the excitement of any thing which, naturally breaks the
equilibrium. I believe some people think _imagination_
the unruly member among the mental parts; but with
me it is the aforesaid offender decidedly. I hope I do
not tease thee about teetotalism: it lies near my heart,
and has done so for a long time; and though I too find
it an effort sometimes to give up an evening to a meeting
of that sort, it is such a comfort to be able to do any thing
to show on which side I am, that I think I ought not to
mind that.

_1st Mo. 4th_, 1847. Yesterday, and the day before,
gently blest in spirit with having things placed more
in their right position in my heart than for some
time before. One evening I had toiled long in vain,
could not overcome a sad sense of spiritual deficiency.
It occurred to me that this might be the very best
thing for me: then I opened my heart and welcomed
it; and, oh, how did a smile of compassion beam
upon me, and the grace that would not be purchased
came in full and free! But it is infinitely important
to watch for more.

Thus experiencing both "how to be abased" and "how to abound," she learned to be satisfied with poverty, and recognized in barrenness, as well as in richness of joy and love, a guiding and purifying grace, leading on to the perfect life in Christ.

_1st Mo. 10th_. Letter to M.B.

* * * Oh for that simple faith which thou speaks
of as mastering mountains of difficulty, and that not by
might or power, but by its intrinsically victorious
nature! I have sometimes been struck by the way in
which this is asserted in the text, "This is the victory
which overcometh the world, even our faith." It is
taken for granted that there will be a contest and a
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
last hours of that wretched man, who appears to have
become so fully sensible of his fatal errors as to have
written a recantation, which some of his infidel friends
destroyed. The account they gave to Cobbett was entirely
false; as the friend related that he expressed to
her the greatest sorrow for the harm that he had done,
and, on hearing that she had burned some of his books,
he expressed a wish that all had done the same.[2]

[Footnote 2: For a farther account see Life of Stephen Grellet,
vol. i. p. 163, Amer. edit.]

* * * Total abstinence, as well as many other good
Causes, and _the_ good cause, have lost a noble advocate in
our honored and lamented friend J.J. Ghirney. It is
hard to reconcile one's mind to so sudden a summons;
so little time for his sorrowing friends to receive those
ever valuable and precious legacies, "dying sayings."
We have heard of nothing of that kind; and perhaps he
was not conscious of the approach of death at all. So
much the brighter, doubtless, the glad surprise of the
transition. Oh, how one longs for permission to look
in at heaven's opened door-way after the entrance of
such souls!

_1st Mo. 23d_. To-day, writing rhyming Irish,
appeal. It got the upper hand and made me sin--so
unhappy about it. When I believe sincerely
desiring to offer it up to the Lord's, will, I grew
easy to continue it. Perhaps it was a selfish and
self-pleasing influence, but I think not so. I felt
very glad afterwards to be able to ask to have all
my heart consecrated by the Lord's spirit; and I do
believe that to rectify, not extinguish, the beat of
oar facilities, is religion's work.

This appeal on behalf of the poor Irish was
never made public. It had occupied her
thoughts very deeply, and, had she seen fit to
publish it, might have been an auxiliary to the
material efforts on behalf of the sufferers in
which she, in common with many others at that
period, was warmly engaged.

Many visits to poor people. In some I felt able
to talk to them of heavenly things. I believe it is
right to speak in love and interest, but never to out-strip
our feelings. "I was sick, and ye visited me,"
refers to a duty; and surely, when we are blessed
with a knowledge of the way of salvation, and feel
anxious for the salvation of others, it is right to do
our endeavors; at the same time well knowing that
God only can touch the heart. I believe that indifference
and indolence do much shelter themselves
under pretence of leaving God's work to Himself.
I have often learned salutary lessons in doing my
little.

_2d Mo. 19th_. I have been musing upon "_my
sorrow was stirred_." Can it be that every heart is a
treasury of sadness which has but to be stirred up
to set us in mourning? Is it proportionate to the
amount of evil? Does a certain amount of evil
necessarily bring a certain amount of sorrow soon or
late? Do we suffer only by our own fault, unless
a grief is actually inflicted upon us? I think not.
There may be mental storms, over-castings of cloud
in the mind's hemisphere, independent of the exhalations
from the soil.

_2d Mo. 23d_. Letter to M.B.

* * * The truth is, that I was once fonder of reading
than of almost any thing else. * * * I don't
know how to tell thee about the strangely sad impression
that has followed, that "this also is vanity." I
know it is our duty to improve our minds, and I wish
much that mine had been better cultivated than it has
been, and yet some utilitarian infirmity of mind has so
often suggested, "What use is it?" while I have been
reading, that my zest for the book has been almost destroyed,
and the very thought of the volume has been
saddened by remembering what I felt while reading it.
So that what E. Barrett says of light reading is true to
me of Schiller and some others:--

"Merry books once read for pastime,
If we dared to read again,
Only memories of the last time,
Would swim darkly up the brain."

I hope these feelings are not infectious, or I certainly
would not inflict on thee the description. But do not
take this as a _general_ picture of me. It is a morbid
occasional state of things; consequent, by reaction, on
the exclusiveness of aim with which those things were
followed. I learned sooner than I suppose many do,
the earnestness, coldness, reality of life; and there has
come an impression of its being _too late_ to prepare for
life, and quite time to live. However imperfectly, I have
learned that to live _ought_ to be to prepare to die; but,
without stopping to describe how that idea has acted, a
secondary purpose of being of some use to others has. I
might almost say, tormented my faculty of conscientiousness.
Don't suppose that this is any evidence of religion
or love. I believe it rather argues the contrary. Every
attempt to do good ought to spring naturally from love
to God and man; not from a wish merely to attain our
_beau-ideal_ of duty. Now, though I so much like reading,
I did not seem able to make any use of it; for
strangely confused were long my ideas of usefulness,
and there has followed many a conflict between these
two unsanctified tendencies. Perhaps they have done
some good in chastening each other and chastening their
owner. Do not think I prospered in either, for I have,
as I said, a poor memory; and then I wanted to see
fruits of my labors, and spent a great deal of time in
making charts; one of the history of empires, one of
the history of inventions and discoveries; the latter,
especially, was not worth the labor. I have had a taste
of many things, and yet, to speak honestly, excel in
hardly any thing: the reason of this is partly a great
want of order. I never attempted any thing like a
"course of reading:" but, when I began a book, _the_
_book_ was the object more than my own real improvement.
I read often D.E.F., before I had read A.B.C.,
and so grew confused, and then, if it is to be confessed,
the childish pride of having read a book was not without
its influence. Poetry in modern times has certainly
become diluted in strength and value; but,
though I have not at all a large acquaintance, I think
there are many good modern poets. I much admire
Wordsworth's "Intimations of Immortality," as well as
many of his shorter and simpler pieces--"The Longest
Day," for instance. There is a great deal of good
instruction, as well as deep thought, in his poetry; but
there is not, I think, very clearly an evangelical spirit;
indeed, the "Excursion," which is beautiful, is unsatisfactory
to me in this respect. Longfellow I think not
_clearly_ influenced by religious principle, but I do not
see any thing contrary to it. Some of his short pieces
are like little _gems_,--so beautifully _cut_, too. Elizabeth
Barrett's [Browning] deep thoughts, rich poetical ideas,
and thoroughly satisfactory principles, when they appear,
[1846] make her a great favorite with me and with us
all. Even her fictions, though so well told, are not
wrought up, or full of romantic incident; but the tale
is plainly used merely as a thread on which to string
rich thoughts and lessons. How much this is the case
with the "Lay of the Brown Rosary!" Even the sad
pieces, such as the "Lost Bower," end generally with a
gleam of light, not from a mere meteor of passion or
sentiment, but from a day-spring of Christian hope.
Perhaps I am too partial, for I know that taste, which in
me is particularly gratified with E. Barrett, will influence
our judgment. Some of Trench's poems, too, I think,
are worth learning; his "Walk in the Churchyard" I
particularly like.

_3d Mo. 25th._ Letter to M.B.

* * * But, oh, I do believe that if people did but
accustom themselves to view small things as parts of
large, moments as parts of life, intellects as parts of men,
lives as parts of eternity, religion would cease to be the
mere adjunct which it now is to many. * * * I am
convinced that till it be made _the one_ object of our
earnest love and endeavors, till we have an _upright_
heart, till the leader of the fir-tree points direct to
heaven, and all lateral shoots not merely refrain from
interfering, but mainly grow in order to support, nourish,
and minister to it, we shall never have that perfect
peace, that rest of spirit, that power to "breathe
freely,"--conscious that we are _as_ if not _all_ that we
ought to be,--which constitute the happiness of a
Christian. But enough of this: don't think I pretend
to any such attainment, though I can sometimes say, "I
follow after."

I much admired that part of Jane Taylor's "Remains"
which describes her cheerful and unmurmuring
acceptance of a humble quiet life, and her dislike of
mere show and machinery in benevolence. I do not
think the best public characters are those who accept
formally, and for its own sake, a prominent station, but
those who, following their individual duty, and occupying
their peculiar gifts, are _thereby_ made honorable in the
earth. To them, I fancy, _publicity_ is often an accident
of small moment; and they who walk in the light of
heaven mind little whether earthly eyes regard or disregard
them. I do not, however, _covet_ for any one whom
I love a conspicuous path. There must be many thorns
and snares.

_4th Mo. 4th_. Much interested with Hester
Rogers's life. The Methodist standard of holiness is
full as high as Friends'--_viz_. the gospel standard.
Struck with the accordance with G. Fox's experience.
He was asked if he had no sin, and answered, "Jesus
Christ had put away his sin, and in Him (Jesus) is
no sin." This was a young man. He grew much
afterwards, doubtless, in faith and knowledge. What
would be thought of a person, especially young, who
should profess so much now? Is the gospel changed?
It is, or we lack faith in its principle. We do not
_perseveringly_ seek, _determinately_ seek, to know for
ourselves what this high attainment is.

Nice visit at the Union on First-day. Congregation
enlarged, notwithstanding substitution of Bible
for Tract, and very quiet. Cornelius, a helpless sick
man, seeming near death, melted my heart with his
talk. I felt quite unfit to be called a "sister" by
such a saint.

_4th Mo. 10th_. "To have had much forgiven" is,
I can joyfully yet reverently record this evening, my
blessed portion; and in the sense, which as a cloud
of warmth and light now dwells in my heart, of the
loving-kindness and tender mercy of God in Christ
Jesus, I have been ready to say, in effect, "Bless the
Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his
holy name," "who forgiveth all thine iniquities,
who healeth all thy diseases, who redeemeth thy life
from destruction, who crowneth thee with loving-kindness
and tender mercies." How is all given me
gratis, without money and without price! Nothing
is mine but confusion of face for my oft-repeated
rebellions.

Oh, it is not that we can get salvation for ourselves;
it is that we hinder not, refuse not, turn not
from, but accept, wait for, pant for the free gift of
our Saviour's grace. "To Him who is able to do
exceeding abundantly," the work belongs. He can
cause that even as sin hath reigned, so shall grace
reign; and that as death hath triumphed, so shall
spiritual and eternal life triumph also. Amen and
amen.

_4th Mo. 17th_. How short-lived were the feelings
I recorded at the close of last week! I believe an
earnest talk with a chatty caller on minor matters,
recalled my heart that same evening from its happy
abiding-place. I have thought of the words, "Jesus
Christ _the end_ of your conversation," and fear he is
but a _by-end_ of mine. It is hard to analyze our
feelings: perhaps when discomfort from excitement
and discontent is greatest, my sin is no greater than
when in listless apathy and earthly-mindedness my
thoughts are bounded by the seen and the temporal.

_5th Mo. 24th_. A solemn warning from Uncle R.
on Fifth-day did me good. I was blessed with some
degree of ability to use the words, "Into Thy hands
I commit my spirit," and though I feared to add,
"Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord of truth," in its
full sense, yet I have felt how precious were the
words, "as unto a _faithful_ Creator." Oh, does He
not say in _these_ days, "Open thy mouth wide, and I
will fill it"? Is His hand shortened at all? Can
we not have faith in our principles?

The following lines were written about this, time, in allusion to the marriage of her eldest, sister, and the funeral of John Wadge, an old and valued friend of the family. It was hoped that the cactus which had belonged to J.W. would have blossomed in time for the wedding; but the first flower only opened a fortnight afterwards, on the morning of his own funeral: and when, in a few years, the marriage of the beloved writer of the lines was so speedily followed by her own decease, the striking appropriateness of these touching verses could not fail to be remembered.

TO A CACTUS FLOWER.

Firstling blossom! gayly spreading
On a long-nursed household tree,
What unwonted spell is shedding
Thought of grief on bloom of thee?

For a morning bright and tender
They had nursed thee glad and fond;
Nay, the bud reserved its splendor
For a funeral scene beyond.

Who shall tell us which were meeter,--
Marriage morn, or funeral day?
What if nature chose the sweeter,
Where her blooming gift to lay?

Set in thorns that flower so tender!
Marriage days have poignant hours;
Thorny stem, thou hast thy splendor!
Funeral days have also flowers.

And the loftiest hopes man nurses,
Never deem them idly born;
Never think that deathly curses
Blight them on a funeral morn.

Buds of their perennial nature
Need a region where to blow,
Where the stalk has loftier stature
Than it reaches here below.

Not like us they dread the bosom
Of chill earth's sepulchral gloom;
They will find them where to blossom,
And perhaps select a _tomb_.

Yes, a _tomb_; so thou mayst deem it,
With regretful feelings fond;
_Not_ a _tomb_, however, seems it,
If thou know'st to look _beyond_.

10th of 7th Month, 1847.

_8th Mo. 8th_. We alone. Pleasant and quiet
schemes have arisen (partly from reading Pyecroft,
partly from having felt so much my own deficiencies)
for thoroughly industrious study, and for keeping, if
possible, externals and mentals in more order. Order,
I believe, would enable me to do much more than I
do in this way, without lessening those little "good
works" which my natural, unsanctified conscience
requires as a sedative; (alas that this is so nearly
all!) but I have got such an impression of selfishness
in sitting down to read to myself, that this, added to
unsettlement from company, etc., almost puts study
out of sight.

_8th Mo. 16th_. Letter to M.B.

* * * Though not only inability for, but even
natural repugnance to good thoughts is often a prominent
feeling, let us not think this a "discouraging
experience." What will be discouraged by it, except
that self-confidence and self-reliance which are the bane,
the very opposite, to the idea of faith? Surely it is for
_want_ of such a feeling, and not _because_ of it, that faith
is feeble. It is because we try to make those good
thoughts and holy feelings of which Thomas Charles
says so truly, "we are no more capable than we are of
creating worlds." I hope I do not presume too much in
writing thus. How little can I say of the blessings of a
contrary state! But how much would my heart's history
tell of the exceeding vanity and folly, and may I not add
_presumption_, of attempting to do what Divine grace alone
can do! How many a painful and gloomy hour might
have been cheered by the Sun of Righteousness, but for
my obstinacy in trying to light farthing candles! But
I believe there are generally _other_ obstacles at the same
time. We _will_ have some beloved indulgence, some
pleasures, of which perhaps the _will_ is the chief sin,
and which, if but willingly resigned, might be
reconsecrated for our use and enjoyment; and then darkness
and gloominess of mind follow, and we light matches
and farthing candles to comfort us, while these very
resources keep us back from seeking the radical remedy.
How easy it is to write or tell the diagnosis of such a
case! but to be reconciled to the true mode of treatment,
the prognosis, as doctors say, _there_ is the difficulty, while
I doubt not Cowper speaks the truth:--

"Were half the breath thus vainly spent
To heaven in supplication sent,
Your cheerful song would oftener be,
Hear what the Lord hath done for me."

I have been much interested with Thomas Charles's
life; such an example of spiritual-mindedness, faith, and
love. Dr. Payson's death-bed is indeed a deeply interesting
history. How we should all like to choose such
an one! and yet, if but prepared to go, whether we depart
as he did, or as poor Cowper, how true are the words
of the latter, "What can it signify?" I have often thought
these words very significant.

Of phrenology I have heard such conflicting opinions
that only my own small experience would satisfy me of
its general truth. I think only very weak minds need
be led by it to fatalism. The very fact of so many propensities
and sentiments balancing each other seems to
show that the result is to be contingent on some other
thing than themselves, as the best-rigged vessel on an
uncertain sea, in varying winds, is under the control of
the helmsman and captain, and may be steered right or
wrong; and surely no vessel is built by an all-wise Hand
which cannot be steered aright with grace at the helm.

_8th Mo. 19th_. Solemn thoughts yesterday in
reading that solemn tract, "The Inconvenient Season."
In visiting I met with another affecting
illustration of the unfitness of old age for beginning
religion, in the senseless self-righteousness of poor
old Mary N. She says every night and morning the
prayers she learned when a child, which she evidently
thinks an abundant supply of religion,--saying, "if
people only do the best they have been brought up
to, that is all they can need; and she never did any
harm to any one." Then there was poor Alice, who,
notwithstanding her rank Calvinism, seemed refreshing
in comparison. She knew she could not do any
thing for herself; it was all grace; but then,
"whatever I am, or whatever I do," she said, "I am safe,
unless I have committed gross sin, which I never
shall." Then poor M.L., whose only fault, she seems
to think, is not having learned to read, though she
knows she is a great sinner, but then as good as says
she never did any thing wrong. It was a sweet
change to E.S., with her thankful and trustful
spirit, and poor S., with his deep experience in the
things of God. "It is a long time to suffer," he
said, "but the end must come, the time must wear
away. I hope I shall have patience to the end, and
I have great need to ask that the Lord will have
patience with me. I hope I shall be fully purified
before He calls me away." He spoke solemnly on
the tares and the wheat, as showing the mixture of
good and evil growing _together_; that our being
outwardly among the righteous will not secure our not
being tares.

_9th Mo. 2d_. Went to see a poor woman at the
Workhouse; she is full of joy in the hope of heaven,
and possession of the present mind of Jesus. I said,
"Many wish for it who have it not;" she said,
"Perhaps they are not enough in earnest: it costs a
few groans, and struggles, and tears, but it is sweet
to enjoy it now." Could the stony heart in me help
melting, seeing her exceeding great joy?

Pleased with the sweet spirit that was in poor
Alice, her trust, I think, in Christ alone, amid all her
(as I think) mistaken thoughts of the church, sacrament,
certain perseverance, &c. &c. I did not argue,
but wished for us both the one foundation.

Of a peculiarly sensitive disposition herself, Eliza's heart abounded with sympathy for the trials and sufferings of the poor. She was a welcome visitor at their cottages, where her kind and gentle though timid manner generally found access to their hearts; and whilst herself receiving lessons of instruction at the bedside of the sick and the dying, she was often the means of imparting sweet consolation to them.

In her desire to promote the spiritual welfare of others, she wrote two tracts, which were printed by the York Friends' Tract Association. The first is entitled Richard Nancarrow, or the Cornish Miner, and traces the Christian course of a poor man whom she had frequently visited, and who had claimed her anxious solicitude as she watched his slow decline in consumption. In the second, entitled "Plain Words," she endeavored to convey the simplest gospel truths in words adapted to the comprehension of even the least educated. She was warmly interested in the Bible Society, in connection with which, for some years, she regularly visited a neighboring village, besides attending to other objects of a similar character nearer home.

_9th Mo. 10th_. Letter to M.B.

* * * Setting our affection above is indeed the
first thing of importance; and yet how utterly beyond
our own power! We are so enslaved to sense and sight
till He, who alone is able, sets us "free indeed," that
things around us can take that disproportionate hold on
our hearts which makes work for the light of heaven to
reduce things to their proper proportion in our view. I
have thought often of the text, "Thy will be done on
earth as _it is in heaven_." Oh, how much that implies,
both of love and joyfulness to be aimed at in our service
of our heavenly Father _on earth_. How high a standard!
Can we hope ever to attain it? Surely we are to ask it,
not as a millennial glory for the world only, (if at all,)
but also as our own individual portion. It is more to be
lamented that we do not realize this than that we do not
realize Foster's idea of the world to come, in which we,
yes, we, our very selves, will be actually concerned.
But I believe the two deficiencies are more connected
than we are sometimes aware of; and perhaps the joys
of a happy death-bed, the foretaste of heaven, of which
we sometimes hear, are as much connected with the
completeness of religious devotedness, often not till then
attained, as with the nearness in point of _time_ to a world
of purity and joy. How striking is the earnestness
shown in John Fletcher's "Early Christian Experience,"
in seeking mastery over sin, not as "uncertainly," or as
"beating the air," but as one resolved to conquer in the
might of that faith which "_is_ the victory;" and how
wonderfully was his after-life an example of "doing the
Divine will as it is in heaven"!

_9th Mo. 17th_. Distress in the country great.
What will all issue in? Surely in this, "the Lord
sitteth on the flood; yea, He sitteth King forever."
Oh! if He be King in our hearts we shall not be
greatly moved. There is comfort to the Christian,
immovable comfort, in having his affections, his
_patriotism_, in heaven. My own heart, I ardently
hope, is not a totally devastated land. There is a
rudiment still there which God looketh upon, and
perhaps, though I know it not, his eyes and his
heart are there perpetually. It is not meant to
remain a rudiment: oh, no; as "sin hath reigned,
even unto death, _so_ grace should yet reign, even to
eternal life."

_9th Mo. 27th_. Perplexed about Irish knitting,
because it is slave-grown cotton. It does not seem
consistent to buy it; and yet I don't know what to
recommend.