_20th_. Exceeding poor; and yet I rejoice in what
I trust is somewhat of the poverty of spirit which is
blessed.
"Nothing in my hand I bring;
Simply to Thy cross I cling;
To the cleansing fount I fly:
Wash me, Saviour, or I die."
_21st_. I feel myself in much danger of falling,--manifold
temptations all round to love the world, and
how little _stay_ within!
_22d._ Yet the Lord was kind, most kind, to me in
the evening, constraining me to say within my heart,
"Surely I am united to Christ my Saviour." Oh,
the joy of feeling that we are in any measure _His!_
May I by no means withdraw myself from His
hands, that He may do for me all that His mercy
designs, and which I am well assured is but _begun._
This morning a crumb of bread was given me, in the
shape of a sense that Christ is yet mine, but that He
will be _waited on_ in simplicity of heart to do His _own
work._ Oh, the comfort of having a fountain to flee
to _set open_ for sin! hourly have I need of it.
_11th Mo. 2d_. I have felt deeply the necessity of
the thorough subjugation of the _will_ to the Divine
will: if it were effected, all must work for good to
me. Little cross-occurrences, instead of exciting
ill tempers, would serve as occasions for strengthening
my faith in God.
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