Kindness--such a tender regard for the
comfort and peace of the soul. Oh, the spiritual
sorrows are far more from ourselves, our own wilful
work, than from Him whose language is, "I the Lord
do keep it, lest any hurt it."
_12th Mo. 4th_. Yesterday, in going to Plymouth
with father and mother, read in my Testament of
the Prodigal Son. Had no time to read before setting
out, and was dull. Thought it no use to take out
the book; but, oh, such a sweet contrition came over
me, such a sense of being invited to return to my
Father's house, such a soft and gentle peace!
_1st Mo. 15th,_ 1848. On the First-day before N.
and F. left us, we had a sweet address (in meeting)
from Uncle Rundell, on the grace which had been
his "morning light, and which he trusted would be
his evening song;" ending with his hope that all
would be willing to "bear the cross," that finally
they might "wear the crown," for it is the end that
crowns the action. We thought it a farewell-sermon;
and the joyful assurance in which it was uttered is
precious to think of. On Third-day he walked with
me in the meadow, but on Fourth-day sickness confined
him to bed, and on Fifth-day he had lost all
power of standing. Since then, he has been a patient
helpless invalid, and constant and most interesting
has been our occupation by turns, in waiting on him,
gathering up his really precious words, and witnessing
the yet more precious example and evidence of
all-sufficient grace.
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