As to his external moral conduct there was no place for a visible “conversion”; he had no vicious habits to abandon, no evil companions from whom to separate himself. It was on the inner life that the transformation was wrought, but just when or where he could not himself tell,—an experience which as to this feature has often been duplicated in the children of godly households.
The impression which I formed of him while associated with him in college was that he lived uprightly and neglected no duty that he regarded as obligatory on him. I knew that he went so far beyond this as to be present at some of the religious associations of the students, such as the Brainard Society, and a little circle for prayer; and that he walked a couple of miles into the country on Sabbath morning to teach a Bible class in the Chartiers church. If I had been questioned closely I probably would have made a mistake, not unlike that into which in later years those who did not penetrate beneath the surface of his life may easily have fallen. I would have said that the chief lack in his piety was as to the amount of feeling that entered into it. I would have said that he was an honest, upright Christian; but that he needed to have the depths of his soul stirred by the forces of religion in order that he might become what he was capable of, for himself and for others. Possibly such an expression concerning him at that time of life might not have been wholly without warrant; but in later years it certainly would have been a gross misjudgment, and while I was associated with him in college and seminary it was far less justified than I imagined.
On October 13, 1856, he began the Journal which, with interruptions, he continued for twenty years. In the very first entry he gives his reasons for keeping this record, one of which he thus states:
I will also to some extent record my own thoughts and feelings; so that in after years I can look back and see the history of my own life and the motives which impelled me in whatever I did,—the dark and the bright spots, for it is really the state of one’s mind that determines one’s depressions or enjoyments.
He records distinctly that the Journal was written for his own eye alone. One in reading it is surprised at the freedom with which occasionally he passes judgment, favorable and unfavorable, on people who meet him on his way. Concerning himself also he is equally candid. Most that he has to say of himself relates to his outward activities, but sometimes he draws aside the veil and reveals the inmost secrets of his soul and of his religious life. As a result we discover that it was by no means so calm as we might suppose from looking only at the surface. In this self-revelation there is not a line that would be improper to publish to the world. A few selections are all that can be given here. A certain Saturday preceding the administration of the Lord’s Supper was kept by himself and other college students as a fast day, and after mentioning an address to which he had listened, and which strongly appealed to him, he goes on to say:
I know that I have not been as faithful as I should. Though comparatively a child in my Christian life, as it is little more than a year since I was admitted to the church, yet I have come to the table of the Lord with my faith obscured, my heart cold and lifeless, without proper self-examination and prayer to God for the light of his countenance. I have spent this evening in looking at my past life and conversation, and in prayer to God for pardon and grace to help. My past life appears more sinful than it has ever done. My conduct as a Christian, indeed, in many things has been inconsistent. Sin has often triumphed over me and led me captive at its will. I have laid my case before God, and asked him to humble me, and prepare me to meet my Saviour aright. O that God would meet me at this time, and show me the light of his countenance, and give me grace and strength; that for the time to come I might lay aside every weight and the sins that do so easily beset me, and run with patience the race that is set before me! There seems to be some unusual interest manifested by some just now; so that I am not without hope that God will bless us and perhaps do a glorious work among us. Many prayers have this day ascended to God for a blessing, and if we are now left to mourn the hidings of God’s face, it will be because of our sins and our unbelief. I have endeavored to keep this as a true fast day; yet my heart tells me that I have not kept it as I should. Sin has been mingled even in my devotions. Yet I am not without hope, because there is One whose righteousness is all-perfect, whose intercessions are all-prevalent. Blessed be God for his unspeakable gift.
The next day, however, among other things, he wrote:
I think that I have never enjoyed a communion season so much.... This day my hopes of heaven have been strengthened, and my faith has been increased; and if I know my own heart, (O that I knew it better!), I have made a more unreserved consecration of myself to God than I have ever done before; and may he grant me grace to live more to his glory!
Surely, the young man who thus opens to our view the secrets of his inner religious life was not lacking seriously in depth of feeling. One is reminded of the Psalmist’s hart panting after the water brooks.
In the seminary he still had seasons of troubled heart-searching and unsatisfied longings for a better Christian life. After reading a part of a book called “The Crucible,” he says: