main and let it ache. I would cover myself with darkness and hide
my face from the light. Oh, could I but call upon the Lord! Could I
but say, Father! Could I feel any relationship!"

"November 3.--All things considered, could I, under any
circumstances, have more opportunities for self-culture and for doing
good than I have in my present position?

"For one thing, there is too much demand on me for physical action.
My heart and head have not their share of time. But when I consider,
I am at a loss to know how we can possibly diminish our business in
any way without a still greater demand on us for physical labor in
consequence of diminishing it.

"Yesterday afternoon I went alone in my bedroom and I was led to
pray, and to think what more I can do for the friends around me than
I now do. This morning I arose and prayed, and felt determined not to
let any outward event disturb my inward life; that nothing should
ruffle my inward peace, and that this day should be one of interior
life, let come what would.

"Often I think of my past life and my present with such a strength of
emotion that I would cry aloud, 'O Heaven help me from my course!
This is not the life I would lead, but how shall I change it? O Lord!
wilt Thou guide me and lead me, no matter what pain or distress I may
have to pass through, to the true path Thou wouldst have me go in?
Oh! I thank Thee for all Thou hast in any way inflicted on me; it has
been to me the greatest blessing I could have received. And, O Lord!
chasten me more, for I need it. How shall I live so that I may be the
best I can be under any conditions? If those in which I now am are
not the best, where shall I go or how shall I change them? Teach me,
O Lord! and hear my humble prayer.'"

The following account of his curious inner experiences tells of the
positive interference of God and His angels, supplementing the calmer
moods in which Isaac longed for and struggled towards the settled
condition only to be attained after his entering the Church.

"November 5.--How is it and why is it that I feel around me the
constant presence of invisible beings who affect my sensibility, and
with whom I converse, as it were, in thought and feeling, but not in
expression? At times they so move me that I would escape them, if I
could, by running away from where I am. I can scarcely keep still; I
feel like beating, raving, and grasping what I know not. Ah! it is an
unearthly feeling, and painfully