his own knowledge of right,
against his conscience and his God. He had long been burdened
with these distressing emotions; he had often prayed, but had
found little relief of his anguish, even in prayer. And now,
even on this calm and beautiful Sabbath morning, there seemed to
his heart a gloom in the landscape. There was a smile, he knew,
upon the face of nature, but he felt that it beamed not for him.
The carol of wild birds rung out sweetly around him; but the
music saddened his heart yet more, for there was no inward
response of gratitude and joy. The bright green of the Spring
foliage and of the waving grass seemed dark and gloomy, as he
gazed upon it through tearful eyes. His mourning spirit gave its
own sombre interpretation to all the lovely scenes of nature. He
deeply felt that he was a wretched sinner against God, and he
could not see how God could be merciful to one who had so
grievously transgressed. He scarcely dared to hope for the
pardon of his iniquities, and was in almost utter despair of
ever obtaining mercy.

The book he had taken with him in his morning walk, was
"Doddridge's Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul." He read,
carefully, the twelfth chapter in that excellent work, entitled,
"The invitation to Christ of the sinner overwhelmed with a sense of
the greatness of his sins." He was convinced that Jesus Christ was
_able_ to save even _him_; and the strong assurances of his
_willingness_ to save, "even to the uttermost," furnished in the
promises of the gospel, began to dawn upon his mind as he read what
seemed like a new revelation to his soul. When he read these words
of Jesus, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and
I will give you rest,"--"Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise
cast out,"--though he had read, or heard them read, a thousand
times before, it seemed now as though they had been written
expressly for him. There seemed a freshness, a force, a glorious
personal adaptation in them which he had never seen before.

He turned over the leaves of the book, and the chapter on "Self
Dedication" caught his eye. He read it; and when he came to the
prayer with which that chapter closes, he kneeled down, with the
book open before him, and solemnly, and with his whole heart,
repeated that fervent prayer. It seemed to have been written on
purpose to express his emotions and desires. When he had
concluded, he closed the book, and remained still upon his
knees, and tr