spirituality, his tender benevolence, his cheerful, genial temper, and the simple dignity of his deportment.
Isaac was about twenty-two years old, when he was received as a member of the Society of Friends.
It was probably the pleasantest period of his existence.
Love and religion, the two deepest and brightest experiences of human life, met together, and flowed into his earnest soul in one full stream.
He felt perfectly satisfied that he had found the one true religion.
The plain mode of worship suited the simplicity of his character, while the principles inculcated were peculiarly well calculated to curb the violence of his temper, and to place his strong will under the restraint of conscience.
Duties toward God and his fellow men stood forth plainly revealed to him in the light that shone so clearly in his awakened soul.
Late in life, he often used to refer to this early religious experience as a sweet season of peace and joy. He said it seemed as if the very air were fragrant, and the sunlight more glorious than it had ever been before.
The plain Quaker
meeting-house in the quiet fields of Woodbury
was to him indeed a house of prayer, though its silent worship was often undisturbed by a single uttered word.
Blended with those spiritual experiences was the fair vision of his beloved Sarah, who always attended meeting, serene in her maiden beauty.
The joy of renovated friendship