"Dark?" Well, what of that?
Didst fondly dream the sun would never set?
Dost fear to lose thy way? Take courage yet!
Learn thou to walk by faith, and not by sight;
Thy steps will guided be, and guided right.
"Hard?" Well, what of that?
Didst fancy life one summer holiday,
With lessons none to learn, and nought but play?
Go, get thee to thy task! Conquer or die!
It must be learned! Learn it, then, patiently.
"No help?" Nay, 'tis not so!
Though human help is far, thy God is nigh;
Who feeds the ravens, hears his children's cry.
He's near thee wheresoe'er thy footsteps roam,
And he will guide thee, light thee, help thee home.
Then follows a selection from Emerson:—
"The scholar must be a solitary, laborious, modest, and charitable soul. He must embrace solitude as a bride. He must have his glees and his glooms alone. Go, scholar, cherish your soul; expel companions; set your habits to a life of solitude; then will the faculties rise fair and full within, like forest trees, field flowers; you will have results, which, when you meet your fellow men, you can communicate and they will gladly receive. It is the noble, manly, just thought which is the superiority demanded of you; and not crowds, but solitude, confers this elevation."
Next follows a page of "Paragraphs for Preachers." Evidently this year sees the dying of the first hope to be a preacher, and the gradual dawn of her life's real mission. Seven pages follow of "Prayers altered and rearranged for my own use, from 'Dairy Praise and Prayer.'" Three or four appropriate prayers are united in one, headed, "First evening," "First Morning," "Second Evening," etc. These were apparently prepared for the lay services she had dreamed of holding. A page or two more, and this entry, October 17, marks the dawning of the new hope: "Last week received a very kind letter from Mr. Wendte, in which he stated, 'We have made you chairman of a Book and Tract Table in the church; 'therefore I feel bound to return to attend to it." Further extracts from the diary are:—
Saturday evening, J—— accidentally broke my audiphone. I felt lost then, but wouldn't let them know how badly I felt about it, and even went to church without it, for fear they would feel hurt about it. It came home mended, this evening.
October 31. Finished G——'s afghan, also completed the embroidery of fourth skirt for Mrs. ——, and first of baby C——'s mittens. Was quite interested in a letter of Mrs. —— in "Register" of last week on "The Woman's Auxiliary Conference." Hope she will succeed in establishing a Woman's Club for discussion and debate in Cincinnati.
Miss F. Le Baron, whose friendship with Miss Ellis dates back to the latter's residence in Chicago, writes that she has several letters from Miss Ellis setting forth her desire to preach, but unfortunately they are in a totally inaccessible place. This allusion, in the diary, evidently points to the final renunciation of Miss Ellis's first missionary impulse:—
November 7. A letter from Miss Le Baron, of Chicago, in regard to my engaging in missionary work in the West. She finally closed with the idea that I had come to myself. In a letter from A—— this week she says to me, "Our lot in life appears to be that of patience and submission," which brings to my mind quite a sermon, in other's words, which I hope to write out to-day. It is time to prepare for church.... The thought suggested by A——'s letter with regard to submission to our lot called to mind the passage William Ellery Channing wrote to his friend Francis. "You seem to go upon the supposition that our circumstances are determined by Providence. I believe they are determined by ourselves. Man is the artificer of his own fortunes. By exertion he can enlarge his sphere of usefulness. By activity he can 'multiply himself.' It is mind that gives him the ascendency in society; it is mind that gives him power and ability. It depends upon himself to call forth the energies of mind, to strengthen the intellect, to form benevolence into a habit of the soul. The consequence I draw from these principles is that Heaven, by placing me in particular circumstances, has not assigned me a determinate sphere of usefulness (as you seem to think), but that it is in my power, and of course my duty, to spread the 'beams of my light' wider into the 'night of adversity.'"