"
And I have one year less to seek
An interest on high;
Am one year nearer to the time
When I myself must die!
And when that awful time will come,
No human tongue can say;
But, oh! how startling is the thought
That it may be to-day!
How shall my guilty spirit meet
The great, all-searching eye?
Conscious of my deficiencies,
As in the dust I lie.
How shall I join the ransom'd throng
Around the throne that stand,
And cast their crowns before thy feet,
Lord of the saintly band?
_12th Mo. 6th_, 1836. There are seasons in which
I am favored to feel a quiet resignation, to spend
and be spent in the service of Him who, even in
my youthful days, has been pleased to visit me with
the overshadowing of His mercy and love, and to require
me to give up all my dearest secret idols, and
every thing which exalts self against the government
of the Prince of Peace.
_4th Mo. 3d_, 1837. Almost in despair of ever
being what I ought to be. I feel so poor in every
good thing, and so amazingly rich in every bad thing.
Still this little spark of love that remains, seems to
hope in Him "who will not quench the smoking flax."
_6th Mo. 4th_. I have cause to be very watchful.
Satan is at hand: temptations abound, and it is no
easy matter to keep in the right way.
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