CHAPTER XVIII.
"There are smiles and tears in the mother's eyes,
For her new born babe beside her lies;
Oh, heaven of bliss! when the heart o'erflows
With the rapture a mother only knows." Henry Ware, jr.
Tuesday, April 19th, 1836.
Dearest Mother,—Though it has been many a long month since I have had the heart to write in my journal, I cannot let the anniversary of my marriage and departure from home pass away, without at least a few words to the dear family at home. My breath comes quickly, and my tears blind me when I think, they may be my last. Often my heart sinks, and my spirit faints, as I look forward with an undefined sense of dread to the future. Sometimes I am enabled to look up with trust and confidence to "Him who doeth all things well;" and by faith to take hold of the precious promises peculiarly addressed to me.
I am blessed with a devoted husband; a watchful and tender mother, and an affectionate sister. When I think of these mercies, I can only say, "surely my cup runneth over."