that, if
there is a move in our Church, very few persons indeed will be partners
to it. I doubt whether one or two at the most among residents at Oxford.
And I don't know whether I can wish it. The state of the Roman Catholics
is at present so unsatisfactory. This I am sure of, that nothing but a
simple, direct call of duty is a warrant for any one leaving our Church;
no preference of another Church, no delight in its services, no hope of
greater religious advancement in it, no indignation, no disgust, at the
persons and things, among which we may find ourselves in the Church of
England. The simple question is, Can _I_ (it is personal, not whether
another, but can _I_) be saved in the English Church? am _I_ in safety,
were I to die to-night? Is it a mortal sin in _me_, not joining another
communion?

"P.S. I hardly see my way to concur in attendance, though occasional, in
the Roman Catholic chapel, unless a man has made up his mind pretty well
to join it eventually. Invocations are not _required_ in the Church of
Rome; somehow, I do not like using them except under the sanction of the
Church, and this makes me unwilling to admit them in members of our
Church."

3. "March 30. Now I will tell you more than any one knows except two
friends. My own convictions are as strong as I suppose they can become:
only it is so difficult to know whether it is a call of _reason_ or of
conscience. I cannot make out, if I am impelled by what seems _clear_,
or by a sense of _duty_. You can understand how painful this doubt is;
so I have waited, hoping for light, and using the words of the Psalmist,
'Show some token upon me.' But I suppose I have no right to wait for
ever for this. Then I am waiting, because friends are most considerately
bearing me in mind, and asking guidance for me; and, I trust, I should
attend to any new feelings which came upon me, should that be the effect
of their kindness. And then this waiting subserves the purpose of
preparing men's minds. I dread shocking, unsettling people. Any how, I
can't avoid giving incalculable pain. So, if I had my will, I should
like to wait till the summer of 1846, which would be a full seven years
from the time that my convictions first began to fall on me. But I don't
think I shall last so long.

"My present intention is to give up my Fellowship in October, and to
publish some work or treatise between that and Christmas. I wish people
to know _why_ I am acting, as well as _what_ I