he kept copious journals
of his sensations and resolutions, full of the deepest piety, always
replete with sternness towards himself and others, and tinged with that
melancholy which usually pervades the more earnest of that school which
requires conscious feeling as the test of spiritual life.

In October 1803, he went to Ely for ordination as a deacon, though still
wanting five months of twenty-three. Those were lax days, there was
little examination, and a very low standard of fitness was required.
Henry Martyn was so much scandalized by the lightness of demeanour of one
of his fellow candidates that he spoke to him in strong reproof--with
what effect we do not know, but he records that he never ventured to
speak in rebuke, "unless he at the same time experienced a peculiar
contrition of spirit."

He became Mr. Simeon's curate, and at the same time took charge of the
neighbouring parish of Lolworth. People then had small expectations of
clerical care, if a parish could be entrusted to a young deacon,
non-resident, acting as tutor and examiner, and with an assistant curacy
besides! His whole mind was, however, intensely full of his duties, and
so unworthy did he consider all other occupations that he prayed and
struggled conscientiously against the pleasure he could not but feel, in
getting up Thucydides and Xenophon for the examinations. Everything not
actually devotional seemed to him at these times under a ban, and it is
painful to see how a mind of great scope and power was cramped and
contracted, and the spirits lowered by incessant self-contemplation and
distrust of almost all enjoyment. When, at another time, he had to
examine on "Locke on the Human Understanding," the metaphysical study
acting on his already introspective mind produced a sense of misery and
anguish that he could hardly endure. It is pleasant, however, to find
him in another mood, writing, "Since I have known God in a saving manner,
painting, poetry, and music have had charms unknown to me before; I have
received what I suppose is a taste for them, for religion has refined my
mind, and made it susceptible of impressions from the sublime and
beautiful."

This, no doubt, was true, but another influence had awakened his heart,
earthly perhaps in itself, but so noble and so holy that it bears a
heavenly light. He had become attached to a young lady in Cornwall,
named Lydia Grenfell, like-minded enough to return his affection. His
intenti