For ever! what a word is this!
Ye careless mortals, be it known;
In everlasting woe or bliss,
This word, for ever! is your own.
Momentous thought! I feel it now;
This long eternity is mine:
My soul shall this duration know,—
A quenchless spark of life divine!
When I retired, I besought the Lord to awake me, and give me health to go to the six o'clock prayer-meeting. In this, He condescended to answer me; but my body inclined to rest. For a moment, I listened; but my prayer and promise occurred to me, and durst I thus offend the Lord? I rose, conferring no longer with flesh and blood, and was abundantly repaid. The peace of God overflowed me as a river, and while I write the effect remains. My soul was much drawn out on behalf of some of my unconverted relatives. A little after we had risen from our knees, one of them came in, and I seized the opportunity of pressing upon him the necessity of a change of heart.—The spirit of prayer was given to me in an unusual degree, especially on behalf of my dear son, who believes himself called to the work of the ministry, and has this day engaged to supply the place of one who has gone to his reward. How important! May the Lord go with him.—For some time I have thought of inviting Miss M.B. to class; but, not knowing whether she had any concern for salvation, I demurred. Still the impression followed me, and to-day I told her of it. The tears started in her eyes, and she confessed with great frankness, that she was convinced she must have the peace of God to be happy; but she had never mentioned the subject to any but her mother. Surely this impression was from the Lord, and in answer to prayer: for some time since, her mother and I agreed to plead for our children every Wednesday afternoon. My affections, divided to every member of my family, meet in one point at the throne of grace; where many a time my expectations are raised, and my soul blessed. To-day my husband takes a class; may it be made an abundant blessing to his own soul.—The quarter-day: much excitement, lest a rent should be made among us; my dear christian friends, A. and B., came to my house to lay the matter before the Lord, while the meeting was being held. There, indeed, we did pour out our cause; buffeted, but much encouraged by the promise, especially as it was given to two of us, 'I, the Lord, do keep it; lest any hurt it, I will keep it night and day.' We believed the Lord would interpose, and so it was. We were told the case was wonderfully overruled. O the condescension of our merciful High Priest!—Mrs. A. brought me a sick visiting-book, which I did not refuse: for although I feel my disqualification, yet am willing to do what I can, only let me have heavenly aid. At twelve at noon, six of us opened a weekly meeting for intercession: to me it was a blessed season. I have at times great enlargement, but abasing views of my own depravity, with expanded perceptions of the love and power of God—great in wisdom, great in love, great in holiness, and yet He deigns to visit me. 'Faith, lends its realising light, the clouds disperse,' and let a ray of the Infinite into my soul. Thus, in the midst of many things that are painful, I am comforted.—Have been out to tea against my inclination, and yet it was among my friends. Endeavoured to give a religious tone to the conversation, but some, who ought to have come forward, were silent; and to others without the least intention I fear I have given offence. From this cause my mind is troubled; but on reflection, think, I ought not to yield to such a feeling, being conscious that my aim was to do right. To Thee, Oh Saviour, will I look to overrule 'my every weak, though good, design.' While I write my soul is happy. Glory be to God.—I am now enter the last hour of 1835, much abased on the review of my own unfaithfulness, yes earnestly desiring to commence anew, if permitted a little longer to sojourn on earth.
Oh! take possession of my heart,
And let it hence Thy temple be;
Willing, Thou seest me, now to part
With all, that is unlike to Thee;
O let the Spirit's seal be given
The earnest of my future heaven!
To Thee, O Lord, I would present
My life, and health, and talent, now;
Let nothing mar the pure intent
And purpose of my solemn vow;
But now the covenant blood apply,
My feeble act to ratify.
Come, sway the sceptre in my soul,
Its secret springs adjust and move;
Model each word, each thought control,
And fill me with the light of love;
So shall I do Thy perfect will,
As angels, who Thy word fulfil.
Ten minutes past midnight.—To put me in remembrance,—my two friends at a quarter before two every day. My one friend at three every Wednesday."
"1836. Awoke with, 'Reckon yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God;' and 'Be ye not of a doubtful mind.' I feel resolved henceforth, thus 'to reckon.' I have been too long dying—not dead, and dishonouring God by 'a doubtful mind.' I now enjoy peace, with a firm determination to keep His commandments, which are not grievous; but I feel my weakness such, that I cannot trust myself. O my God, help me to keep my covenant vows!"
Look high, look low, look far and near,
Changes in every scene appear;
The blossom fades, the day is gone,
And night succeeds the morning sun.
The clear blue firmament is seen.
But gath'ring clouds soon intervene;
The sun, resplendent, hastes away,
To give to other lands the day.
The vig'rous youth to manhood grown,
Becomes a hoary sire anon;
The blooming maid becomes a bride,
A loving consort by her side,
The zenith point of earthly bliss,—
But ah! a changing scene is this:
The fairest prospects earth can boast,
Are poor, and transient at the most;
And closest ties of friendship fail
To stay the bliss, we smile to hail.
"After a fortnight's suffering, my dear little grandson, Edward, left our dark abode for everlasting day. Separation is painful, but the prospect of eternal happiness brings sweet consolation. A little before death he said, 'kneel down.' He was three years and ten months old—a child of much promise—but is now safely transplanted to nourish in a healthier clime.—Death strikes again—the infant, and only surviving child of my Eliza, has escaped to glory. Several other afflictive occurrences have been permitted, I am confident for my good: yet I have better health than usual, and the consolations of my God are not withheld. The Lord can make hard things easy, and mingle the bitter cup with sweetness. O that I could make better returns!—Thirty years ago, I gave myself to my husband with mingled feelings of hope and fear. The words, 'thy Maker is thy husband,' have been impressed upon my mind."