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comes with such force, and so appealingly, to all my consciousness, that it stifles all sense of sin ....
Sometimes when I read the Bible, it seems to be wholly grounded on the idea that the sin of man is astonishing, inexcusable, and without palliation or cause, and the atonement is spoken of as such a wonderful and undeserved mercy that I am filled with amazement.
Yet if I give up the Bible I gain nothing, for the providence of God in nature is just as full of mystery, and of the two I think that the Bible, with all its difficulties, is preferable to being without it; for the Bible holds out the hope that in a future world all shall be made plain .... So you see I am, as Mr. Hawes says, “on the waves,” and all I can do is to take the word of God that He does do right and there I rest.
The following summer, in July, she writes to Edward:
I have never been so happy as this summer.
I began it in more suffering than I ever before have felt, but there is One whom I daily thank for all that suffering, since I hope that it has brought me at last to rest entirely in Him. I do hope that my long, long course of wandering and darkness and unhappiness is over, and that I have found in Him who died for me all, and more than all, I could desire.
Oh, Edward, you can feel as I do; you can speak of Him!
There are few, very few, who can. Christians in general do not seem to look to Him as their best friend, or realize anything of his unutterable love.
They speak with a cold, vague, reverential awe, but do not speak as if in the habit of close and near communion; as if they confided to Him every joy and sorrow and constantly looked to Him for direction and guidance.
I cannot express to
