It is the midnight hour; yet 'He that keepeth Israel
neither slumbers nor sleeps.' No sound salutes my ear but the pendulum
of the clock, which, with every stroke, admonishes me that time
flies.--Alone with uncle. He sleeps. All is tranquillity and peace; my
soul is fixed on Christ, and enjoys undisturbed repose. Surrounded by
Him, in whom I live, move, and have my being, all nature,--the balmy
air,--the rich verdure,--the growing beauties of spring enlivened by
the great luminary of heaven, conspires to raise this often wandering
heart to Him, whom I desire above all things to love and obey.--I
asked uncle if his prospect was bright; he replied, 'Aye, I've no
doubt.'--I wonder at myself I make so little progress in knowledge, or
increase in holiness. I purpose, aim, attempt, yet daily have cause
to mourn my unprofitableness; but with one whose memoir I have lately
looked into, 'I must come the short way to God, through the atoning
blood of Jesus.' His name is precious now. I feel its balmy power. O
for ability to praise Him in language adequate to the glorious
task! God is love. Creation with its thousand tongues proclaims Him
'Wonderful, Counsellor, the Mighty God;' and millions of intelligent
creatures extol Him, 'the Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace'
I have written a letter to be read in the Tuesday class. Visited Mr.
M.--My soul goes out after God, and my faith claims Him mine. O
what an exalting, and yet humbling thought! Faith unites but love
adores.
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