Of the perplexities and anxieties of her mind at this time, her letters to Mrs. Fry give sufficient proof. In January, 1824, she again wrote to her, and, after stating the great difficulty which she experienced in adopting “the plain language,” and her earnest desire to be guided aright in this matter, she proceeds:—
* * * It is indeed true that I never feel so comforted, as when I feel humbled, and experience a deep sense of my own sinfulness; when I rise from my knees, or leave meeting with an arrow striking in my heart, as it were, I feel a sort of pleasure, which I now would not exchange for aught the world can give. I hope this will not seem to thee unreal or fantastical: but no, I think thou wilt understand it. * * * * To say the truth, much as I should like to belong to a religious society, and much as I see, or think I see, the hand of my gracious Lord in leading me, to whom have been given so many ties to a worldly life, in the various gifts bestowed on me, (I mean accomplishments, as they are called,) to communion with a sect which requires the sacrifice of them almost in toto, thereby trying my faith to the uttermost, still I feel no necessity for haste in doing so. It is by no means clear to me, that, though generally strong, I am not locally infirm. I have lately had severe colds, and coughs, and have queer feelings in my heart, which may be merely nervous, and may be not so. Be this as it may, I am never without the consciousness now, that this may be for me “no continuing city.” In the next place, should I survive my father, and be in a condition of body and mind favourable to travelling, it has long been the desire of my heart to visit foreign countries; my wishes, I own, extending even to Palestine; and it might be far better for me to travel, unfettered by any ties. * * * Meantime, I feel my reliance on my Saviour grow stronger every day, and a sort of loathing of worldly society, which I must strive against. But no one, but that wise and merciful and just Being who has tried, and is now trying me, knows, or ever will know, what I have to endure from the many unseen peculiarities of my situation. However, I take comfort and encouragement from my difficulties; I know that I am most vile, and that I ought to be for ever striving to show my gratitude to my blessed Redeemer, by devoting myself entirely to his service; and I feel a repose and peace, in spite of my conscious sins, which the world cannot give nor take away, and which I humbly hope will continue to bear me up unto the end. Above all, I am conscious of a daily increasing spirit of prayer, and a desire of constant communion with the Bestower of it. What a letter of egotism! But I know thy mind will be interested in the “dealings” with mine, and I wish thee, dearest Betsy, always to know whereabouts I am. Dear Joseph is come back well, and looking well. With kind love to you all,
I am, thy affectionate Friend,
A. Opie.
To Elizabeth Fry,
Plashet, East Ham, Essex.
In another letter, dated Norwich, 3rd mo., 2nd, 1824, addressed to Mrs. Fry, after thanking her for her reply to the former letter, she tells her that on the 14th of the preceding month, she had, after much anxious consideration and indecision, decided to act without delay, according to the dictates of her conscience; and that a gentleman, a stranger, chancing to come and call on her that morning, she spoke the “plain language” to him, and had continued to do so ever since; and she says, “Nor have I had a misgiving, but feel so calm and satisfied, that I am convinced I have done right; and I feel now utterly cast for comfort, support, and guidance, on the Searcher of hearts, and the great Shepherd, the merciful Redeemer.”
In the following year Mrs. Opie addressed this letter to the Friends of the Monthly Meeting.
Respected Friends,
Having attended your place of worship for more than eleven years, and being now fully convinced of the truth of Friends’ principles, I can no longer be easy without expressing my earnest desire to be admitted into membership with your Society. My former opinions and habits, were, I own, at variance with yours; but having, through Divine mercy, been convinced of the error of my early belief, and of the emptiness of worldly pleasures, I trust that the same mercy has led me to desire to “walk in the narrow way” that seems to lie before me, and to promise me “that peace which the world cannot give.”