"Your situation is very delicate and painful; yet you must remember that you are under the peculiar protection of the Redeemer. He has all power in heaven and on earth, and works all things after the counsel of his own will. He can cause light to spring out of darkness, and often comes forth to deliver his people when they despair of help. I would advise you to be firm, yet temperate; to blend the utmost degree of kindness with inflexible decision; to avoid every appearance of eccentricity; not to introduce religious questions in conversation at an improper time, and when you do introduce them, cautiously abstain from minor and subordinate topics; bear reproach without murmuring; never discover an eagerness to expose erroneous views of truth, unless you have reason to conclude that it can be done without giving offence; and, as a general maxim, prove the truth and the excellence of your religious sentiments and opinions, more by your life than by your tongue."
"I sometimes think that I shall sink beneath my afflictions, but at other times I rise above them. I know that it is through much tribulation that the righteous are to enter the kingdom, and I know, also, that amidst all their tribulations they enjoy peace. The candidate for immortality ought not to object to the cross; but when the cross is prepared by those we love, it becomes peculiarly oppressive. After much deliberation and many prayers, I resolved on writing to my parents, and have placed in the hands of my father, as I left home, a letter, a copy of which I will read to you:—
"'My Beloved Parents,—It is with many varied and conflicting emotions that I now address you; you may think it strange that I have chosen the more formal style of writing, rather than conversing with you, but I trust you will agree with me that, considering the importance of the subject which is now engaging so much of our mutual thoughts and feelings, and the different opinions we entertain, it is of great consequence that we should fully understand each others' sentiments. Upon your kind sympathy I throw myself; judge me not harshly; though compelled to differ from you on many points, still let me have your usual kindness and consideration.
"'I am fully aware of the deep and poignant sorrow which my late course of conduct has brought upon you; you have ever been to me kind and indulgent, have brought me up in the enjoyment of every comfort and elegance which your station in life has enabled you to command; no expense has been spared to fit me for the position in society you wish me to occupy; and now, by my own act and decision, I deprive you of the pleasure and reward which you so naturally expect. You wish to see me moving in elegant society, joining with youthful vigour in those scenes of amusement and worldly gaiety in which you think I ought to find delight, and attribute my objections to such amusements to a morbid antipathy to the elegancies of life, and an assumption of ascetic rigour ill suited to the character of one who has enjoyed my advantages. Both from love and duty, you require me again to frequent these scenes of amusement in which I now feel no interest, again to conform to the usages of fashionable life, and again to be, what I once was, "a giddy worldling." My dear parents, were it an earthly attachment you asked me to surrender, however great the sacrifice, however my heart, its woman's hopes and happiness might be wrecked, so great is the affection I bear you, so high a regard have I for parental authority, that I would yield. But what is it that you ask of me? Not such a sacrifice as this—that time, your love, and other ties might heal—but the sacrifice of all I hold most dear, most valuable—the sacrifice of myself, my precious and immortal soul. Start not, my father, but ponder well and deeply what I say. Judge me not by this world's judgment, but by the Scripture authority, which I know you revere, and will never gainsay. I believe in no strange doctrine; no new or fanciful form of religious truth has taken possession of my heart and feelings. Taking the testimony of Scripture for my guidance, seeking to be led alone by its revealed truth, and to learn and to obey its commands, how can I conform to the world, and yet remain a disciple of Christ Jesus? The two are impossible! "Be ye not conformed to the world" is a solemn command, to which I must yield obedience. It has pleased God in his providence so to influence my heart and conscience, that I now see things with a different eye than before; I must therefore regulate my conduct by these convictions. Love of the world, and worldly pleasures, cannot find a place in the heart of one who has given herself to Christ. You may plead that God requires not sacrifices such as these from his people, especially in opposition to parental authority; and that I have no right to blast your happiness, and bring disgrace upon your family by my eccentric notions. I cannot admit that by my decision I am justly incurring your displeasure, or disgracing myself and you. I cannot, conscientiously with my sense of duty to Christ, any longer mix with the gay and thoughtless, make myself a partner in their follies, or join in their amusements; but I am not required to shun literary pursuits, the improvement of my mind, and those intellectual enjoyments in which I have ever delighted; but believing, as I do, the utter inconsistency of all worldly dissipation and gaiety with the pursuits of a Christian life, I must for ever renounce them. I am prepared for all that misrepresentation and contempt from others may do to wound and annoy, but cannot give up my religious principles, and what I consider my Christian duty. I trust, with the blessing of God, and help from him, sustained by the love and sympathy of my dear Redeemer, I could willingly become a martyr, but never either an inconsistent professor or an apostate.
"'My beloved parents, ponder well ere you deprive me of your confidence and affection; listen not to the satire and bitterness of others, who cannot judge me as I ought to be judged. Believe me—supreme love to the Saviour will not make me love you less; my religious feelings will not make me indifferent to the claims of parental regard, authority, and affection. I shall not be less your child because I call God my father. I implore you, let not domestic strife and sorrow enter our once happy home! For the sake of peace, must I conform to the world, return to the habits and customs of fashionable life, be again—what I once was—one of the gay and thoughtless, or no longer the child of your fondest affections, or perhaps even an inmate of your home? Bear with me while I tell you; my choice is made; I am prepared to sacrifice everything but my religious freedom, my love for my Saviour, and obedience to his authority. 'He that loveth father and mother more than me, is not worthy of me.'
"'It will not be long, at the longest space of time, before this world, with all its gaieties and follies, will pass away from us; we know not how much of sorrow or joy lies before us; what will sustain us should sorrow as a flood flow over us, desolation, and bitter woe? Will the jocund laugh, the merry dance, the enlivening strain of earth's sweetest music, soothe the heart overburdened with deepest sorrow? If we have no other foundation to rest upon than these—no other friendship than that of the world, which is as evanescent as its happiness—where shall we go if sorrow withers our joys and enters our home? But we may escape these, and, like a peaceful stream, our years may glide from us, our sky still be bright and serene, and a cloudless sunset cheer our departing day; but night follows day—and there is a night, dark and stormy if unenlightened from above, coming upon us all, for which we each one must prepare—the night of death! What will it avail us then whether riches or poverty, rank or meanness, has been our portion here? These will not save us; all that human love and friendship can effect will be unavailing then, if our hope is not on high—if an Almighty friend is not with us to divide for us the waters of dissolution—to become our intercessor and Saviour. Oh! my beloved parents, dearer to me than life itself, think of these things; think of the last earthly scene; let me prepare for it, and forget not that the same preparation is needful for you.
"'I can no longer trifle with the things of time; an eternity of bliss or woe is before me. I am prepared for the sacrifice of all earthly honour and happiness, that I may be safe in Christ, and prepared to meet him at his coming. That you, my dear parents, may finally meet me in the heavenly world, where no sorrow can enter, and where the voice of discord is never heard, is the sincere prayer of your affectionate and dutiful child,
"'Sophia.'"
"I have no doubt," said Mrs. Stevens, "but this letter will operate greatly in your favour. Your parents are labouring under a misapprehension, which your open and frank statement will remove; and while they must admire the independence which claims its rights, they will respect those religious principles which no human authority can, or ought even to attempt to subdue."