have so long schooled myself!
I, who laughed at passion as the outcome of temperament and easy
living--I, who thought in my intellect, to sound all the depths and
shoals of human feeling--I, who analysed my own soul--scoffed at my own
yearnings for an immortality--am forced to deify the senseless power of
my creed, and believe in God, that I may pray to Him. I know now why men
reject the cold impersonality that reason tells us rules the world--it
is because they love. To die, and be no more; to die, and rendered into
dust, be blown about the earth; to die and leave our love defenceless
and forlorn, till the bright soul that smiled to ours is smothered in
the earth that made it! No! To love is life eternal. God, I believe in
Thee! Aid me! Pity me! Sinful wretch that I am, to have denied Thee! See
me on my knees before Thee! Pity me, or let me die!

December 9th.--I have been visiting the two condemned prisoners, Dawes
and Bland, and praying with them. O Lord, let me save one soul that may
plead with Thee for mine! Let me draw one being alive out of this pit! I
weep--I weary Thee with my prayers, O Lord! Look down upon me. Grant me
a sign. Thou didst it in old times to men who were not more fervent
in their supplications than am I. So says Thy Book. Thy Book which I
believe--which I believe. Grant me a sign--one little sign, O Lord!--I
will not see her. I have sworn it. Thou knowest my grief--my agony--my
despair. Thou knowest why I love her. Thou knowest how I strive to make
her hate me. Is that not a sacrifice? I am so lonely--a lonely man, with
but one creature that he loves--yet, what is mortal love to Thee? Cruel
and implacable, Thou sittest in the heavens men have built for Thee, and
scornest them! Will not all the burnings and slaughters of the saints
appease Thee? Art Thou not sated with blood and tears, O God of
vengeance, of wrath, and of despair! Kind Christ, pity me. Thou
wilt--for Thou wast human! Blessed Saviour, at whose feet knelt the
Magdalen! Divinity, who, most divine in Thy despair, called on Thy cruel
God to save Thee--by the memory of that moment when Thou didst deem
Thyself forsaken--forsake not me! Sweet Christ, have mercy on Thy sinful
servant.

I can write no more. I will pray to Thee with my lips. I will shriek my
supplications to Thee. I will call upon Thee so loud that all the world
shall hear me, and wonder at Thy silence--unjust and unmerciful God!

December 14th.--What blasphemies are the