t is dealing
faithfully with my soul--searching and sifting it, revealing it somewhat
to itself and preparing it for the indwelling of Christ. This I do
heartily desire. Oh, God! search me and know me, and show me my own
guilty, poor, meagre soul, that I may turn from it, humbled and ashamed
and penitent, to my blessed Saviour. How very, very thankful I feel for
this seclusion and leisure; this quiet room where I can seek my God and
pray and praise, unseen by any human eye--and which sometimes seems like
the very gate of heaven.

_July 23d._--This is my dear little baby's birthday. I was not able to
sleep last night at all, but at last got up and prayed specially for
her. God has spared her two years; I can hardly believe it! Precious
years of discipline they have been, for which I do thank Him. I have
prayed much for her to-day, and with some faith, that if her life is
spared it will be for His glory. How far rather would I let her go this
moment, than grow up without loving Him! Precious little creature!

_27th._--This has been one of the most oppressive days I ever knew. I
went to church, however, and enjoyed all the services unusually. As we
rode along and I saw the grain ripe for the harvest, I said to myself,
"God gathers in _His_ harvest as soon as it is ripe, and if I devote
myself to Him and pray much and turn entirely from the world I shall
ripen, and so the sooner get where I am _all the time_ yearning and
longing to go!" I fear this was a merely selfish thought, but I do not
know. This world seems less and less homelike every day I live. The more
I pray and meditate on heaven and my Saviour and saints who have crossed
the flood, the stronger grows my desire to be bidden to depart hence and
go up to that sinless, blessed abode. Not that I forget my comforts, my
mercies here; they are _manifold_; I know they are. But Christ appears
so precious; sin so dreadful! so dreadful! To-day I gave way to pride
and irritation, and my agony on account of it outweighs weeks of merely
earthly felicity. The idea of a Christian as he should be, and the
reality of most Christians--particularly myself--why, it almost makes
me shudder; my only comfort is, in heaven, I _can_ not sin! In heaven I
shall see Christ, and see Him as He is, and praise and honor Him as I
never do and never shall do here. And yet I know my dear little ones
need me, poor and imperfect a mother as I am; and I pray every hour to
be made willing to wait for