Chapter XIII

IN the second of ist mo. 1867, Alice went to Millville to pay the visit referred to in her last letter. The first evening of her arrival her cousin had a long conversation with her, in which Alice expressed a strong desire to know a deeper and more abiding work of grace in her soul, and to realise a closer union with Jesus, and a fuller baptism of the Holy Ghost.

There was staying in the house at the time a dear minister of the gospel, — one deeply taught in the things of God, — and the next day was a day of feasting to Alice, as she sat with her open Bible, listening to his expositions of divine truth. God had so ordered it that he dwelt mostly on the subject of “walking in the Spirit,” and taught very emphatically the wonderful truth that those who did thus walk need not and would not fulfil the lusts of the flesh. It was just the teaching Alice needed, and the Lord opened her heart to receive it. During the course of the day the question was asked of this minister whether Christians ought to expect to live in the condition described in the seventh chapter of Romans all their lives, longing to do good, but finding it impossible because of the weakness of the flesh? His reply was emphatically “No,” and then he showed very clearly that the eighth chapter of Romans describes the true Christian experience, and one which may be realised by every child of God, since it is the purchase of the death of Christ, and is all treasured up in Him for those who believe on Him.

Alice was very much struck by this answer, for although she had in a remarkable degree lived a life of faith in Christ, yet there was one point in which her faith was lacking, and therefore she did not realise so complete a victory over the evil tendencies of her heart as her soul longed for. The difficulty had been that, while trusting Christ fully and entirely and alone to deliver her from the guilt of sin, she did not trust Him fully and entirely and alone to deliver her from the power of sin. She knew she had no strength of her own, and it was her constant prayer that Christ would give her strength, whereas she was to have no strength at all, but, like a little child folded to his father’s bosom begs his father to drive away his foe, so she was to hang helpless on to Christ, and ask Him to fight the foe in her heart, trusting Him practically to be her strength.

The glorious possibilities of the full salvation of Jesus began to dawn upon her, and her soul rejoiced. In the evening a Bible-class was held, and the subject of walking in the Spirit continued with many forcible illustrations. The true secret of a life of faith was opened to Alice’s understanding; that it is to cease from all efforts of our own, and to commit to the Lord Jesus our whole life and our daily living, trusting Him to work in us to will and to do of His good pleasure, so that we can say in very truth, “I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless, I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.” She at once acknowledged in the depths of her heart this to be the true way, yet for a moment she shrank from such a complete abandonment of self, as a yielding to it involved. Then, instantly frightened at her own rebellion, she breathed a prayer for God to take her in hand, and make of her just what He pleased. At that moment the veil was lifted, and the Lord Jesus was revealed to her enraptured soul as her all-sufficient and perfect Saviour, in a way she had never before even dreamed possible. As she described it, she seemed to be as it were extinguished in Jesus. She realised her absolute oneness with Him, in a way no words could describe. Indeed she felt as if He entered into her soul and became her very life. At once she was enabled to adopt as her own the words, “Yet not I, but Christ liveth in me,” which but a little before had seemed so impossible for her. Her whole being was overwhelmed with the glory of the revelation. She said nothing, but tears rolled down her cheeks, and she soon found that the depth of feeling could no longer be repressed, and asked to be excused. She was obliged to lean on her cousin for support, as she left the room, and sat down on the first chair where she could be alone. There some time afterwards, she was found weeping and praising God. “Oh, what a Saviour Jesus is! “” Oh, what a complete salvation! ;; “What a perfect Saviour!” “Oh, how precious!” Such were some of the ejaculations that continually burst from her lips.

The next day found dear Alice still filled with the

Spirit, and overflowing with unspeakable joy. She listened with eager delight to the further expositions of the way of faith, which all that day and the next it was her privilege to hear from the dear minister above referred to. He dwelt much upon that text, “I do not frustrate the grace of God, for if righteousness come by the law, then Christ is dead in vain,” and he showed plainly that the frustrating here meant, was the legal striving of the soul, after being justified, to keep itself pure and holy, and to “work righteousness,” as the Scriptures express it, by its own efforts. This striving, he said, could not but hinder the full acting of the grace of God, by which Christ would be made unto it sanctification and righteousness, in the same real and practical sense as He was its justification. Alice was delighted with the new light thus thrown upon this text, and at once said that it should be henceforth her own especial text. “I ask no more blessed experience than this,” she said, “not to frustrate the grace of God.” And constantly she might be heard repeating to herself, under her breath, the words, “I do not frustrate the grace of God, no, I do not, I will not!”

Many other precious lessons were learned during those days, which cannot now be recalled, but the Bible seemed to become almost a new book to her, and her favourite hymns acquired a new and glorious meaning. Those two precious lines which had so long been a comfort to her, seemed, she said, never to have been understood before,

“lama poor sinner, and nothing at all,
But Jesus Christ is my all and in all,”

and she repeated them over and over with the greatest emphasis, trying to show to all around her the blessedness of realising their utmost truth.

There were several little social meetings for worship during the course of these few days, and Alice took part in them, praying with great power and nearness of access. All who were with her took knowledge of her that she not only had been, but that she was then, with Jesus. During this time a very severe temptation beset her, and she learned experimentally the secret of victory over it. She no longer tried in her old legal way to resist it, praying for help, but she handed it right over to her mighty Saviour, committing to Him the whole care of resisting and conquering it for her, while she stood by and held her peace. And to her unspeakable joy she found He did deliver.

In this manner several days passed. They were her last well days on earth. The weight of joy was too much for her delicate frame; and on the third morning she was unable to leave her bed. She lay there too weak to speak much, but her countenance was expressive of a peace that passeth understanding. She soon rallied, however, sufficiently to be able to start for home. A day or two before leaving her cousin’s, she thus writes to her mother and sister: —

...” I think I will write you both in one, as my time here is too precious to spend much of it in writing. I can talk when I get home. I expect to come out from Phila. on seventh day, and I thought it would be nice to have Bible-class that afternoon, in which case I could meet Carrie there. Do let 11 spray, dear Carrie, more earnestly for a blessing on our Bible-class. I so long that Christ may be more exalted there, and that we may really be fed from the fountain of all truth.

“How I do wish thee and mother could have been

here with Mr; he is a most wonderful teacher,

such an one as I never met before. It was just one Bible- class all the time he was here. Every evening we all collected round the large table in the parlour.

F. D and five or six others beside our own family

were generally there. I cannot begin to tell you how much I enjoyed it. It really seemed that the Holy Spirit accompanied his words, and brought them home with power to our hearts, so that we could say in truth that we never saw the fulness of our possession in Christ before. Oh, the realisation of the love of God toward us in Christ Jesus is indeed worth more than all the wealth of all the worlds. What unutterable joy and peace it gives! Not only the peace of knowing that our sins are forgiven, and joy in the prospect of an eternal inheritance with Him in light — these are ours when we come and lay our weary load of sin at the foot of His cross, as Pilgrim did, and go on our way rejoicing — but He gives us His peace. ‘My peace I give unto you, not as the world giveth give I unto you.’ It is different in its very nature and essence from any earthly peace, because it is the very peace that God feels. He is the Vine, we are the branches; just as the sap runs through the vine to the branches, just so His peace flows from Him unto us. It seems as if my words were powerless to touch anything so glorious, so wonderfully”

It is very much to be regretted that the last sheet ot this letter, in which she spoke more fully of the experience through which she had just been passing, has been lost.

She came to Philadelphia on the 16th, intending

to spend the night with her friend, A. S, and go to

a gathering of Friends, according to a previous agreement. Dear Alice’s usual energy led her to go through with this exertion, but it was more than her health was equal to. The rooms were crowded, and a window was opened near where she sat. She thus added to a cold which she had taken several days before.

The next morning found her too ill to leave her bed; but, although the flesh was so weak, her spirit was rejoicing in God her Saviour, and the two or three days she was obliged to remain in Philadelphia, before she gained sufficient strength to reach her home, were days of sweet communion with her friend, who cared for and watched over her with loving tenderness. When able to join the family at breakfast, after their morning reading of the Scriptures, she prayed very sweetly and fervently. In mentionin it afterward, she said that before she received this outpouring of the Spirit, the cross, in such an effort, would have been great, but that now she did it joyfully, feeling it a privilege.

On the 19th ot 1st mo. she reached Tswedelle, and was thankful to be again at her dear home. At first it seemed as if a little quiet and good nursing would soon restore her to her usual health; but as she continued rather to grow worse, the family physician was called in, who at once pronounced her disease acute bronchitis. She was troubled with a severe cough, and great weakness, which prevented her speaking much to her beloved family of the blessing of the fulness of Christ which had been bestowed upon her while away from home.

She was able, however, to tell her sister something of the revelation of Jesus which she had experienced, saying she knew Christ as a mighty power within, in a far higher sense than ever before. She had often felt her Saviour to be very near to her, but never before so fully enjoyed the consciousness of His dwelling in her, and walking in her. He was more to her now than ever a present help outside of her, for she realised Him to be dwelling in the inner citadel of her heart, and doing all for her, instead of helping her to do it, as heretofore.

The day after her return she wrote the following note to her cousin, from which something may be gathered of her experience at this time: —

“Tswedelle, January 20, 1S67.

“My own Darling H. —

“I expect thou wonders why I have not written. The reason is that the flesh (literally) is very weak. It seems that my body has almost given out under too much joy. I feel so exhausted to-day, that I can scarcely move: but the goodness of the Lord is just the same as ever, and it is just as nice to rest on Him. Oh, what a comfort to have such a loving Saviour to do every thing for us, and to be even-thing for us! In my present languid and good-for-nothing state it is such a rest to’ feel that He has taken my will into His own hand, and that there is no crossing of my will with His. May He in His pitying mercy keep it Himself. I have such a realising sense that if He let go of it for a moment it would spring up in all its old force, and the old fight, to do God’s will against my own will, would begin. It seems to me we have enough to fight with, without fighting our own wills. What a mercy that there is One who will bind them for us with the chains of love! It seems to me that the great thing the Lord is fighting in me — I do indeed speak reverently — is my old habit of mind. A habit of mind, I suppose, must be harder to overcome than habits of life, for one is the spring of the other. My old habit of thinking that I must fight my besetting temptations in the old legal way is so strong, that I try it many times each day, because I forget that there is a better way, and, of course, fall into sin as often as I try it. The more I think of the glorious truth of what Jesus is, the more wonderful it seems.

“It is so sweet to think of thee, darling, as in the hands of One who is so loving, so powerful, and so true. He put many sweet prayers into both A.

S ’s heart and mine for thee, while I was there.

My visit to her was confirming, and very sweet, although my head was very naughty....

“As ever, thy loving little sister-cousin,

“Alice”

A week or more after her return she became much worse, and for three or four weeks was very ill. Several times she seemed to be getting better, and gained strength enough to sit up a short time, and then without any perceptible cause became worse again.

During the third month she seemed to gain strength

Q more steadily, and was able to sit up a part of the day, and even walk into an adjoining sitting-room. Her recovery, however, being very slow, it was thought best about the first of fourth month to call in a consulting physician, whose opinion was found to be decidedly unfavourable. This was a terrible blow to her family, but the Lord graciously enabled them to submit their wills unto His.

Her sister, whose privilege it was to be her constant companion and nurse, writes concerning this period in her journal: —

4th month nth, 1867. — Dear Alice’s room is as bright and cheerful as possible, but everywhere else the house is as sad as if there had just been a funeral. “We have carefully kept our fears from her, but it seems that although outwardly as cheerful and bright as usual, she has for the past week been realising for the first time her exceedingly critical condition.

She has often said when in health, that she thought for the Christian a sudden death was much more to be desired than one from consumption; to have no time to think of the parting, or the death struggle, but in a moment to be ushered into the immediate presence of Jesus, to go no more out for ever, would be glorious. She spoke to-day for the first time of her present feelings with regard to it, saying, “For days past the thought of dying in consumption has been very painful to me, -but it was glorious when I felt that Jesus was able for this also. He will bring me through, and even make me triumph over it, and now the thought of a lingering death is not painful, it even looks cheerful.”

I said, “He has enabled me, darling, to give thee up into His hands, to do with thee as seemeth best to Him.”

She replied, “Thee need not have told me that, my precious one, for I knew it, I felt it, and I think it is so sweet thee can give me up so entirely. It is lovely to feel that others are laying you into His arms, for He is so good, so precious. For myself I have no wish, no choice; but when I think of father and mother” — and her eyes filled with tears — “it goes to my heart. What would they do without me? Sometimes I think that it may be God’s will that I should live to cheer and comfort them in their declining years; but He knows what is best.”

Her characteristic forgetfulness of self, and thoughtfulness for the pleasure of others, were beautifully shown in her planning a little surprise for her sister Carrie on the anniversary of her wedding, which occurred only a few days before the conversation above recorded, and while a death by consumption was looking so painful to her. Outwardly she was the same bright, cheerful “Aunt Alice,” who must be taken into the counsels of the children, as to what presents to get for mamma. With her own hands she made them a wreath of beautiful flowers from her conservatory to crown their mother on this the tenth anniversary of her wedding-day, and herself came down-stairs that nothing might be wanting to the enjoyment of the occasion, which to the children was unmixed with sadness.

As the spring advanced, Alice continued to gain strength, driving out almost every day, and was able really to enjoy the society of her sister Annie, who had been sent for from St John in the early part of the fourth month, as the physicians then feared that she might not last until summer. Although thus steadily improving, dear Alice did not encourage the hopes of her family and friends as to her recovery, as will be

seen by a little note written to her friend M. M. J

in the fifth month.

“I see by your letter that you do not realise how feeble I am. I still have to be carried up and down stairs when I go to ride, which I do almost every fine day. I have been as far as five miles, when feeling very bright, the horses walking most of the way, but on my sick days a little exhausts

me. In short, dear M, it is scarcely worth while

for you to make any calculations about my going away, as it is very uncertain whether I shall be able to leave home at all, until I leave it to go to that better home prepared for us above.

“I ate my tea on the portico last night, and walked out a few steps to look at the flowers. Wasn’t that an achievement? It was all so wonderfully beautiful; it was a great treat to me. Oh, Jesus has been so kind to me! I feel His strong kind arm just underneath me; it is such a resting-place! How tender and gentle our precious Saviour is to us!

“Do not feel too anxious about me, dear child; my disease is not one of immediate danger; but I feel that the future is very uncertain. My desire and prayer is, ‘Thy will be done, and make me love it’”

The following extracts are from the jottings of one of her sisters in the fifth mo.: —

“Dear Alice replied to my exclamation that I really believed she was getting better, ‘I don’t think it is best to think whether I am getting well or not, but patiently wait God’s time and will, living every-day and hour so that we shall not regret it either way. We know that whichever way He orders it, it will be best. I am so thankful that the choice is not left to me, for I had far rather leave it in His hands, to do as He wills. I should not be half so happy if I did not know that His will, and no one else’s, will be done. I could not enjoy getting better if I did not know He is doing it for His own glory and if He sees fit to raise me up again, I know that it will be for some wise purpose of His own.

“In speaking afterward of the visit of a dear friend,

D. T, who had prayed most sweetly with her,

she said, ‘And for me she did not ask for “length of days,” but she asked for just what I wanted her to ask for ’ — rich spiritual blessings, and the joy of uninterrupted communion with the Lord.

“She realises the power of Jesus to save from yielding to temptation, and said the other day that she frequently prays that she may see sin in its approaches, so that she need not be hastily overcome, before she has time to flee to Jesus for deliverance.

“A few mornings ago she told me that she awakened suddenly in the night from a distressing dream. She thought that she was being placed in a coffin, and all the physical horrors of death came over her. She felt weak and without strength to resist such feelings, but she just cast herself upon Jesus, and in a moment He brought promise after promise to her mind, and all her fears vanished, and she could say, * Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.’ She said, ‘Afterward I was really glad of the temptation, for it showed me how able, how strong Jesus is to deliver.’

“At another time she said that in a dream she seemed to be a soul wandering in darkness and distress — when Jesus appeared to her in the form of a man wrapped in a large cloak, and folded her to His bosom. She added, “Dreams are sometimes so queer; but it was lovely, after my weary wanderings in the dark, to feel myself clasped to His loving breast, and completely hidden and sheltered by His large cloak from cold and darkness.’”

It was particularly trying to Alice’s naturally independent disposition to be indebted to others for the supply of all her wants; but, recognising her Lord’s hand in this also, she bore it with great sweetness, often calling herself “Grandmother,” and playfully giving her age as “one hundred and ten.’;

The following letter to her mother, who had at Alice’s urgent request taken one of her little grandchildren from St John, to consult Dr T of the

New York movement cure, about a paralysed limb, breathes her usual bright and cheerful spirit: —

“June 14th.... As for this little old grandmother, she is getting on nicely. Every want I could possibly have is supplied, and I seem stronger and better than when thou left home. I am wonderfully blessed in not suffering much pain. I enjoy so much going out on the lawn, and sitting on the piazza toward sunset.

“It is Marion’s birthday, and I expect the dear pet over here for four kisses shortly. I walked quite a distance on the lawn yesterday afternoon, and sat on the portico, and took my tea in fine style. I enjoyed it more than I can tell, everything looked so lovely. The only thing that I could have wished for was to have the sweetest of little mothers here to see me. But I am very glad it is as it is. Everything is in the hands of our Father, to arrange for us better than we could do ourselves. It gives me such a sense of rest when I think of it. May He, in whom we trust, richly bless thee, precious one, and bring thee back to us at the right time.”

At times Alice suffered from alarming attacks of oppression, in which it seemed to her as if she could never recover her breath; but the heavenly expression of her face showed that, although outwardly so distressed, He whom her soul loved was hiding her in “the secret of His presence.”

After one of these attacks, speaking of them to her sister, she said, “They are, of course, very distressing, but then I only have to bear it one moment at a time, and I always feel more then than at other times the near presence of my Saviour, and that more than makes up for the suffering. I do not believe that there is any trial or suffering that the presence and support of Jesus would not more than compensate for. I had much rather have the pain with His presence, than to have that withdrawn and be at ease.”

During all this time dear Alice’s blessed experience of abiding in Christ continued unclouded; of the first five or six weeks of her illness, when confined

JET. 27.

almost entirely to her bed, and often too weak to sit up even for a few moments, she thus writes under date of Feb. 28th: —

“Dearest H, —

...” How wonderfully kind our Heavenly Father is! He has been so good to me; indeed I

can say with M that my sick-bed has been the

most perfectly happy place I ever knew or conceived of. I never before thought of its being possible to live hour after hour, and day after day, in such consciousness of His presence; indeed I did not know what perfect joy one moment of such companionship is. It seems to me now it would kill me to be left

without it. O H! how incomparably lovely

our Jesus is! It seems to me even the subject of trying to glorify Him in our lives becomes insignificant compared with Jesus himself.”

And in the third mo. to another friend she writes: —

...” How much, how very much, I have to be thankful for! Our Father has dealt so tenderly with me. I cannot tell you of the sweet stream of peace that has flowed through my heart like a river. Jesus has seemed so very near. I never realised before how close Jesus is to us every moment, whether we realise it or not, and oh, the realisation of it is such intense joy! May He henceforth keep us both in the constant consciousness of this! Is it not wonderful that this is our privilege? ,;

And again, in a note dated July 19th, 1867, she says: —” Dearest H, —

“I think often of thee, and long for a sight of thee, but am more than content with what I

have; for really, H, it does seem to me no one

ever had so many blessings. Our precious Saviour is so kind; He knows what a weak baby I am, and 1 tempereth the wind to the shorn lamb.’ He is my rock, my sure resting-place; in Him, indeed, do I put my trust, and yet sometimes I dishonour Him by looking away and getting discouraged. He brings my

eyes back, and all is bright again but, oh, H! I

never did have such views of myself as I have had lately. Sometimes it has been dreadful; but, oh, what a salvation we have!”

Dear Alice, during her hours of weary suffering and physical langour, had no friend more firmly established than herself in a life of daily faith, to encourage and strengthen her against the wiles of the adversary. Those by whom she wTas surrounded knewT little experimentally of the life of entire abandonment of self, and of complete trust in Tesus upon which she had so lately entered. Some were inclined to question whether the salvation of our Lord Jesus Christ provided for such an abiding in Him as to give a continual deliverance from the power of inward and outward sin, and whether it was the privilege of any one to rejoice always in the Saviour’s presence and smile. It was suggested that the joy and triumph which Alice had realised foi the past few months were only a little fresh sense of divine love and mercy, which would after a while become dim, and leave the soul as before. Alice was at first too sure of her own experience to pay much heed to these questionings. She knew that Jesus was able to keep her trusting Him, and she could not be persuaded that she had ever experienced His indwelling in anything like the sense she now realised it. But she was weak and nervous, and, at last, the doubts ol others began to find an entrance into her soul. She said afterwards that she remembered the moment when the first thought of unbelief passed through her mind.

A dear Christian friend was conversing with her, and expressed his doubts whether such joy and nearness of communion as she had lately enjoyed could last, saying that he had often had seasons of very blessed communion, but had never found them to last any great length of time. The thought then flashed into Alice’s mind — “Must this be so? must I give up the blessed consciousness of the presence of my indwelling Saviour?” A few days after this a friend was sitting beside her, and she looked up and asked the question almost imploringly — “Does thee think a Christian may have the conscious presence of his Saviour with him all the time?” The friend addressed did not know experimentally, and could only say that she thought the Scriptures taught that they might; but her words were too doubtful to comfort or help dear Alice much.

It happened also, that two ministers of the gospel, entirely unknown to each other, visited her at different times, and, with the intention, doubtless, of preparing her for the dark hours which so often visit invalids, spoke of God sometimes hiding His face from us, and that such seasons of desertion must be endured with patience and resignation. After one of these visits, she was found in tears, and, upon being urged to tell what troubled her, replied, “I cannot bear to think of my Heavenly Father withdrawing His smile from me, for I feel so utterly weak, that I think, without it, I could not bear my physical suffering.”

She was pointed to the unfailing love of Jesus, and reminded that it certainly is His will that we should always be happy in Him, for we are not only commanded to “rejoice evermore,” but our Saviour himself told us to “ask, and receive, that our joy may be full.” To this her only reply was,” The thought will come that perhaps my Heavenly Father

sent here to warn me of a dark season ahead,

and, oh! I am so weak. I do not think I can bear it.” This dread of a dark season in store for her was doubtless aggravated by physical causes, as she, at that time, had the additional suffering of a succession of abscesses in her side, and her mind taking particular hold of this thought, she overlooked the truth that her Saviour would be with her through it all, although the clouds might prevent her realising His presence so sensibly, as lately it had been her privilege to do. Thus Satan found room to enter a wedge of unbelief, and he never ceased his efforts until he had deprived her of all her joy. She lost the precious realisation of her life being hid with Christ in God. She could no longer say, as she had once said with such depth of meaning, “Not I, but Christ.” It became again to her as it had been in old times, “I, and Christ,” and this was soon followed by the “I,” without “Christ.” Even her old assurance of faith in the forgiving mercy of her Saviour failed her, when she lost the precious sense of His presence, that had so filled and satisfied every need of her soul.

For a few weeks her view of the Sun of Righteousness was interrupted by these clouds of unbelief. But she felt that it was so dishonouring to her Saviour thus to doubt Him, that she spoke of it to very few, and seldom referred to it even to them. She was not long suffered by her loving Father to wander in this wilderness of doubt. She grew so much stronger that she was able to leave home, and was taken to Atlantic City for a few weeks, and there she met the same cousin at whose house she had been so blessed in the winter. To her she disclosed the state of her mind, and asked her help. “Tell me,” she said, “the old, old story of the gospel, just as thee used to tell me at first. Treat me like a child, and talk to me about Jesus as the Saviour of sinners.” “I want the milk for babes,” she would say over and over. “Just show me the places in the Bible where Jesus is revealed as able to save the chief of sinners.” Then she began to question whether she was not commanded to trust, and not be afraid; and she listened eagerly to text after text on the duty of believing, on the sin of unbelief, and on the preciousness of faith in God’s eyes. Gradually her doubts were conquered by the promises of God, and again at the end of the year, as at the beginning, dear Alice could say the precious words, “Not I, but Christ,” and could feel, as she often expressed it, that she was “just extinguished in Jesus” She thus wrote concerning this period of darkness to her friend A. S:

“November 13, 1 86 7.
” My very Dear Friend, —

...” I have so often thought of the day dear

A. F and thou came out to see me. How kind

it was of you to come, and how sad that the shadow that hung over my spirits should have saddened you.

“I cannot think of the experience through which I was then passing without a shudder. Oh, what a

fearful thing is unbelief! I do believe, A, it is

the blackness of darkness itself. We cannot come near to its borders even, without feeling the gloom of its deep shadow. How awful, then, is the thought of being plunged into its depths!

“But thanks be unto God, we are called to be ’ children of the light; ’ we are to have nothing to do with darkness. He has brought us ’ out of darkness into His marvellous light.’ Our place is to bask in the light of the Sun of Righteousness, and so let fruit ripen unto His glory. How preposterous it is to think for a moment of its being His will that any of His children should, even for a season, go back under the old shadow from whence He brought them forth. And, oh, what a price He paid to bring them forth! The idea that it could be His will to try any of us by taking away our rejoicing confidence in Him, is one which I am sure He has never given us the least ground for in His Word, but, on the contrary, it is entirely opposed to all His .teaching. He wishes us to trust Him at all times. It grieves Him when we doubt His word, for He has commanded, ‘Have faith in God,’ and still further, ‘Rejoice in the Lord alway.’ How, then, could He take away our power to believe and rejoice, since He does not contradict

Himself, or do evil that good may come? I grieve that such a God-dishonouring thought could have found even a transient lodging in my breast, even at an hour when too weak and nervous to think coolly or reasonably. The language of faith answers all such suggestions: ‘God only is my rock, and my salvation; He is my defence, I shall not be moved.” Later she thus writes to her cousin: —

“January 7, 1868.

...” Indeed I have longed to write to thee, dear sweet sister-cousin. I long to have thee know just how it is with me; but writing is in fact the hardest thing I have to do, as it always gives me a pain in my side, and besides I begin to cough when I sit down to write, and generally keep it up until I stop and lie down.

“Thou asks if I am at rest in Jesus. I can say, in truth, my soul is at rest in Him. My visit at Atlantic City did me a deal of good; it cleared away so many dark shadows of unbelief, and I have realised much more of the sweetness of trusting in Jesus. In short, I have had to trust Him more than I ever did before, because I am so weak, such a coward, I could not bear for one minute the ’ pressure of my care,’ without resting it on Him. Oh, it is such a comfort to have Him to rest on!

“My experience last year was real; I learned to trust and to know Jesus a power within, which I find a great comfort.”