pure devotion fills the heart, And breathes a yearning prayer,
Let others wander to the church And pay their tribute there; But if o'er
me such feelings steal, In the dark forest let me kneel."
"When death comes o'er the pallid brow To number with the dead, Let
others choose some lovely grave, Where tears will oft be shed; But let
me, let me find a tomb Deep in the forest's darkening gloom."
Her life was not one of thrilling adventure, hairbreadth escapes, and
deeds securing worldly applause, but quiet, unobtrusive and useful. Her
constitution was naturally weak--her brain too active for her body, and
as a consequence much mental and physical suffering was her portion.
To her studies--French, Latin and drawing, besides the English
branches--she was very devoted. Nothing pleased her better than to be
alone with books, pen and pencil, or to wander forth in garden or field.
Being of a very bashful and retiring disposition she felt alone even in
company. Her diary leaves give evidence of this. Under date of June
19,1852, for example, she writes:
"How lonely I feel to-day! and my rebellious heart will repeat the
question, Why was I created thus? I stand alone, and why? I know it is
my own self that makes me so; but how can I make myself otherwise? I
have tried very, very hard to overcome my--what shall I call it?
bashfulness? It seems as though it could not be wholly that. I have seen
those the world called bashful, but they were not at all like myself. Oh,
no; I am wretched at times on account of this ----. When I see myself
all alone--different from those around me--I cannot stay the burning
tear though I would gladly repress it. I cannot soothe the anguish that
fills my heart, and yet I feel that this is wrong,--that it ought not to be
thus. Why should I feel so keenly that I am _alone_? that I am strange?
Earthly scenes will soon be over, and if I am only a Christian I shall
never feel alone in heaven. Oh, glorious thought! there will be no
strange being there. O God, prepare me for that blissful world and I will
no longer complain of my loneliness on earth--no longer sigh that I am
not like others."
At this time Miss JOHNSON was not a professed Christian. Her
parents had endeavored to bring her up in the fear of the Lord and a
belief of the gospel, and to attend the services of the sanctuary. Her life
had been one of strict morality. She believed in God but had not taken
Christ as her own personal Saviour and confessed him before men as
she felt she should. Her conviction of sin however was deep and
pungent. On another day in the same month, she says:--
"O Earth, thou art a lovely place, and some of thy inhabitants are as
lovely and happy as thyself. See that beautiful bird, with shining
plumage and brilliant crest, and hear the melodious notes that arise
from its silvery throat! Its form proclaims beauty, and its song
happiness. See those snow-white lambs skipping over the verdant
grass,--now nestling sportively beside their bleating mothers, then
springing forward, bounding from knoll to knoll, and filling the air with
strains of joy and delight! See yonder butterfly weighing itself upon
that brilliant flower: his gorgeous wings are expanded and glittering in
the sun like sparkling gems! See those bright-eyed children! their
glowing cheeks, their beaming eyes, and above all their clear and merry
laugh proclaiming happiness pure and unbounded. Earth is truly lovely,
but its inhabitants are not all happy. Oh no, not all, for one who loves
the beauties of earth, rejoices in the loveliness of nature, and finds her
chief pleasures in the spreading grove, by the babbling brook, among
the brilliant flowers, is sad and unhappy. And why? Because she has
learned too soon that there is no such thing as [real and abiding]
happiness on earth, that the fairest plants wither, that pleasure is a
deceitful phantom-false and fleeting. Truly she has learned all this, and
will she never learn to raise her eyes to that bright world where true
happiness only resides, and to trust meekly in Him who is the only
Dispenser of peace and joy?"
Later we have another entry in which, after again referring to the
beauties of nature, she exclaims:
"O life, life! I fain would read thy mysteries: I fain would draw aside
every vail and behold for what purpose I was created. Was it to be an
heir of sorrow? was it to live for myself alone, and then pass away and
let my memory perish with me? No, I was born for a better--a higher
and more
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