breath--I'm satisfied
A lonesome mortal God to have died.

This last paragraph is magnificent as any single passage I know in
literature.

Is it lawful, after reading this, to wonder whether Henry More, the
retired, and so far untried, student of Cambridge, would have been able
thus to meet the alternations of suffering which he imagines? It is one
thing to see reasonableness, another to be reasonable when objects have
become circumstances. Would he, then, by spiritual might, have risen
indeed above bodily torture? It is _possible_ for a man to arrive at this
perfection; it is absolutely _necessary_ that a man should some day or
other reach it; and I think the wise doctor would have proved the truth
of his principles. But there are many who would gladly part with their
whole bodies rather than offend, and could not yet so rise above the
invasions of the senses. Here, as in less important things, our business
is not to speculate what we would do in other circumstances, but to
perform the duty of the moment, the one true preparation for the duty to
come. Possibly, however, the right development of our human relations in
the world may be a more difficult and more important task still than this
condition of divine alienation. To find God in others is better than to
grow _solely_ in the discovery of him in ourselves, if indeed the latter
were possible.

DEVOTION.

Good God, when them thy inward grace dost shower
Into my breast,
How full of light and lively power
Is then my soul!
How am I blest!
How can I then all difficulties devour!
Thy might,
Thy spright,
With ease my cumbrous enemy control.

If thou once turn away thy face and hide
Thy cheerful look,
My feeble flesh may not abide
That dreadful stound; _hour._
I cannot brook
Thy absence. My heart, with care and grief then gride,
Doth fail,
Doth quail;
My life steals from me at that hidden wound.

My fancy's then a burden to my mind;
Mine anxious thought
Betrays my reason, makes me blind;
Near dangers drad _dreaded._
Make me distraught;
Surprised with fear my senses all I find:
In hell
I dwell,
Oppressed with horror, pain, and sorrow sad.

My former resolutions all are fled--