_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 pa.s.ses 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 subst.i.tute 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, un.o.bstructed, 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'Aubigne. 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'Aubigne 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'Aubigne 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 compa.s.sion, 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 hara.s.sing 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d, 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 G.o.d, 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 G.o.d in man might vindicate the Divine perfection and benevolence, and make it evident that our "salvation is of G.o.d, 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 pa.s.sively 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 compa.s.sion 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 a.s.serted 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 n.o.ble 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 G.o.d only can touch the heart. I believe that indifference and indolence do much shelter themselves under pretence of leaving G.o.d'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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sion 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 const.i.tute 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.