than we are
aware. I fear much good is not done by discussing differences;
at least, _I_ find it calls up feelings which are
not good, and I lose more practically than I get or give
theoretically. May the Lord bless us both in our pilgrimage,
and guide us in a plain path to a city of final
habitation, where we shall not want sun, or moon, or any
other thing than the glory of God and the Lamb, to be
our everlasting light.

I could not be satisfied without replying to thy kind
remarks and inquiries about myself and my hopes; but
now, having said so much, I hope thou wilt not think it
strange that I cannot _argue_ on things about which we
differ. I have not adopted opinions without reflection,
and it has fully satisfied myself; but I have nothing to
spend in controversy, which I always find does me a
great deal of harm. I hope we now know enough of
each other to rejoice in each other's joy.

_6th Mo. 16th_. Last evening alone in the plantation.
Sought the Lord. It was beautiful. Was not
nature meant by Him to work in concert with His
spirit on our hearts? Or is the calming and soothing
power a thing confined to sense and sensibility? I
suppose the latter, but that religion appropriates these
as well as all other faculties and parts of man's nature,
and, where he would have praised nature, bids him
praise God, his own God in Christ.

_6th Mo. 18th_. I have thought this summer a time
of critical importance for my soul, for eternity. I
have felt, and sometimes spoken, strongly, but always,
I believe, honestly, unless I have imposed upon myself.
Thought I had accepted Christ. I thought He
was my salvation and my all. "Yet once more" will
the Lord shake not my earthly heart, but also my
heaven, my hopes, my expectations, in Him. Will
He convict me still of holding the truth in unrighteousness?
How else can I explain to myself the
pride which revolts from censure, the touchy disposition,
the self-justifying spirit, the jealousy of my reputation,
the anxiety to keep up my character? How
else can I explain the inaptitude for the divine, the
unwillingness to have the veil quite lifted from my
heart, to display it even to my own eyes? Ah! is it
not that there is still a double mind and instability in
all my ways, still a want of that simplicity of faith,
that humility, and poverty, and meekness of spirit,
that can accept the gosp