A Brief Memoir | Page 8

most heavenly of the group.

Our dear cousin Joseph last night entered that
"rest which remains
for the people of God;" rest
for which he had been panting the whole
of the day,
and to which he was enabled to look forward as his

"happy home."
7th Mo. 28th. Yesterday was one long to be remembered.
The last sad
offices were paid to him
whom we so much loved; and oh that the
mantle
of the watchful, lowly disciple might descend abundantly

upon us! Yet it is only by keeping near to
the divine power, that I can

receive any thing 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."