A Brief Memoir | Page 8

good;?and, though yet far away, oh, may I look towards His?holy habitation who is graciously offering me a home?where there is "bread enough and to spare."
4th Mo. 3d, 1842. He who has been for years?striving with me, has lately, I think I may say, manifested to me the light of His countenance, and?enabled me at seasons to commit the toiling, roving?mind into His hand. This morning, however, I feel?as if I could find no safe centre. Oh that I were?gathered out of the false rest, and from all false?dependence, to God Himself, the only true helper,?and leader, and guide! How precious to recognize,?in the light that dawned yesterday and the day before,?the same glory, and power, and beauty, which?were once my chief joy! But oh, I desire not to be?satisfied with attaining again to former experience;?but to give all diligence in pressing forward to the?mark for the prize, even forgetting things that are?behind.
10th Mo. Mercies and favors of which I am totally?unworthy have been graciously bestowed this morning,?and, may I hope, a small capacity granted to?enter into the sanctuary and pray. This week I?have been unwatchful,--too much cumbered; yet,?oh, I hope and trust, at times, my chains are breaking,?and though I must believe the bitterness will?come in time, the gospel of salvation is beginning?to be tasted in its sweetness, completeness, and joy.
1st Mo. 1843. I desire that the privilege of this?day attending the Quarterly Meeting at Plymouth,?may be long held in grateful remembrance; that the?language, "I have heard of Thee by the hearing of?the ear, but now mine eye seeth Thee; wherefore I?abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes," may?be my increasing experience. Conscious that the?state of my heart, long wavering between two opinions,?has of late been fearfully in danger of fixing?to the wrong one of these, I would ask of Him who?seeth in secret, and who is, I trust, at this very moment renewing a measure of the contrition, which,?amid all my desires for it, did but gleam upon me?this morning, to do in me a thorough work, to remain?henceforth and ever.
2d Mo. 12th. About four weeks since, we had?a precious visit from B.S., and it has been a sacrifice?to me to make no record of his striking communications;?but I have been fearful, lest in any measure?the weight and freshness of these things should?vanish in words; and I have never felt at liberty to?do so.
In this year, she wrote but little in her Journal, and it appears to have been a time of spiritual proving; yet one in which she experienced that it was good for her "to trust in the name of the Lord, and to stay herself upon her God."
6th Mo. 16th, 1844. One week ago was the?twenty-first anniversary of my birthday. In some?sense, I can say,--
"The past is bright, like those dear hills,?So far behind my bark;?The future, like the gathering night,?Is ominous and dark.
"One gaze again--one long, last gaze;?Childhood, adieu to thee;?The breeze hath hurried me away,?On a dark, stormy sea."
Deeply and more deeply, day by day, does my understanding find the deceitfulness of my heart. Well?do I remember the feelings of determination, with?which I resolved, two years since, that this period?should not find me halting between two opinions,--that?ere this day I would be a Christian indeed.?And looking back upon my alternating feelings, ever?since reason was mine, upon the innumerable resolutions?to do good, which have been as staves of reed,?I must want common perception not to assent to the?truth, that "the heart is deceitful above all things,?and desperately wicked: who can know it?" But,?oh, it is not this only, which my intellectual conscience is burdened with: when I look at the visitations?of divine grace which have been my unmerited,?unasked-for, privilege, through which I can but feel?that in days past, a standing was placed in my power?to attain, which, probably, now I shall never approach,?the question does present with an awful importance,?"How much owest thou unto thy Lord?"?Seeing we know not, nor can know, the value of an?offer of salvation, till salvation is finally lost or won; seeing that such an offer is purchased only by the?shedding of a Saviour's blood, how incomprehensibly?heavy, yet how true, the charge, "Ye have crucified?to yourselves the son of God afresh." I know well?that of many now pardoned, for sins far deeper in?the eyes of men than any I have committed, it might?be said that little is forgiven them in comparison of?the load of debt that hangs over my head; and I?have sometimes thought, that the comparison of?debtors was selected by the Saviour, purposely to?show that guilt in the sight of God is chiefly incurred?by the neglect of His own spiritual gifts, not?in proportion merely to the abstract morality of man's?conduct. It is certainly what we have received?that will be required at our hands: and oh, in the?sight of