at which is to
come? It isn't joy in what He has done for me, a sinner, but adoring joy
for what He is, though I do not _begin to know_ what He is. It will take
an eternity to learn that lesson.

Do you really mean to say that Miss K. is going to pray for _me_? How
delightful! I am _greedy_ for prayer; nobody is rich enough to give me
anything I so long for; indeed when my husband begged me to tell him
what I wanted at Christmas, I couldn't think of a thing; but oh, what
unutterable longing I have for more of Christ. Why should we not speak
freely to each other of Him? Don't apologise for it again. The wonder is
that we have the heart to speak of anything else. Sometimes I am almost
frightened at the expressions of love I pour out upon Him, and wonder if
I am really in earnest; if I really mean all I say. Is it even so
with you? It is not foolish, is it? Perhaps He likes to hear our poor
stammerings, when we can not get our emotions and our thoughts into
words.

_To Miss E. A. Warner, New York, Jan. 7, 1870._

I find letters more and more unsatisfactory. How little I know of your
real life, how little you know of mine! So much is going on all the time
that I should run and tell you about if you lived here, but which it
would take too long to write. I have very precious Christian friends
within six months, who take, or rather to whom I give, more time than I
could or would spare for any ordinary friendship; one of them has spent
four hours in my room with me at a time, and we had wonderful communings
together. Then two dear friends have died. One of the two, of whom you
have heard me speak, was the most useful woman in our church; my husband
and I both wept over her death. The other directed in dying that a copy
of Stepping Heavenward should be given to each of her Sunday scholars;
a lifelong fear of death was taken away, and she declared it pleasanter
and easier to die than to live; her last words, five minutes before
she drew her last gentle breath, came with the upward, dying look,
"Wonderful love!"

You can't think how sweet it is to be a pastor's wife; to feel the
_right_ to sympathise with those who mourn, to fly to them at once, and
join them in their prayers and tears. It would be pleasant to spend
one's whole time among sufferers, and to keep testifying to them what
Christ can and will become to them, if they will only let Him.... No, I
never "Dialed" or was transcendental. I don't think knowledge will come