May 10

The Lord redeemeth the soul of His servants; and none of them that trust in Him shall be desolate.--PS. xxxiv. 22.

Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.--JOB xiii. 15.

  I praise Thee while my days go on;
  I love Thee while my days go on:
  Through dark and dearth, through fire and frost,
  With emptied arms and treasure lost,
  I thank Thee while my days go on.

The sickness of the last week was fine medicine; pain disintegrated the spirit, or became spiritual. I rose,--I felt that I had given to God more perhaps than an angel could,--had promised Him in youth that to be a blot on this fair world, at His command, would be acceptable. Constantly offer myself to continue the obscurest 'and loneliest thing ever heard of, with one proviso,--His agency. Yes, love Thee, and all Thou dost, while Thou sheddest frost and darkness on every path of mine.