poetical inspirations, I had been willing to discover, or to
acknowledge in the vortex of frivolity.

"My mind much affected, after some weeks of anxiety and meditation,
longed ardently to read the Holy Scriptures. None of my numerous
acquaintances, even such as were book collectors, or who possessed
extensive libraries, had this book in their households. I felt ashamed,
that I too had never required it. From that time this treasure became
my faithful companion on my travels. I read in solitary and consecrated
moments, and experienced what every thirsty one feels, who is
susceptible of humiliation, in whom the utter sense of helplessness is
not entirely extinct, which, indeed, is so indispensably necessary
before the spiritual word can take root in the uncultivated heart.
Faith! this so often disputed, attacked and variously explained word.
Oh! who has experienced it, in whom it has arisen with its strength, he
will not dispute it. I could not withdraw myself from the revelation,
the faith, so triumphantly did the words, the images, the language of
the gospel glittering in the splendour of arms pierce through my soul,
and all my energies became the prisoners of eternal love, and were now
happy and blessed in the service, in the sweet slavery. My former
rebellion against the Lord appeared to me mean and despicable, and my
contempt turned from its course, no longer understood the folly of its
early wisdom. Many indeed imagine, that faith, humility, and unbounded
trust in the Lord, are nothing else than killing our energies, nay the
faculty of thinking, and consequently withdraw in anger or in trembling
from that work of regeneration, which, nevertheless speaks sometimes
from afar indirectly to their insensible hearts. Unhappy men! This so
much dreaded faith would first elevate their capacities to energies and
kindle new lights and flames in their spirits. Without him, the
revealed Christ, no sense in profound thought, no spirit in history, no
consolation in nature and no peculiarity in our existence. Art, love,
humour, who possesses him, they are then free play-fellows. How joyous,
sweet, yea intoxicating and full of merriment, cheerful, and smiling
does Christianity appear through all the genuine works of modern art,
how blessed and pleasing are they, when in the greatness and fulness of
the old world, yet like a spirit of gentle melancholy that passes away
as the cloud, momentarily over the beautiful landscape in the
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