I have done nothing for Thee yet, and I would
like to do something. O do, do, I beseech Thee, accept me and
my service, and take Thou all the glory...."
"_23d January_, 1853,--I think much of my poor children...."
"_4th February_, 1853.--I am spared in health, while all the
company have been attacked by the fever. If God has accepted
my service, then my life is charmed till my work is done. And
though I pass through many dangers unscathed while working
the work given me to do, when that is finished, some simple
thing will give me my quietus. Death is a glorious event to
one going to Jesus. Whither does the soul wing its way? What
does it see first? There is something sublime in passing into
the second stage of our immortal lives if washed from our
sins. But oh! to be consigned to ponder over all our sins
with memories excited, every scene of our lives held up as in
a mirror before our eyes, and we looking at them and waiting
for the day of judgment!"
"_17th February_.
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