n the
scene is changed, and sorrow and care become our portion,
the same who was our joy in prosperity will be
our refuge in adversity; and "because thou hast made
the Lord thy habitation, there shall no evil befall thee."

I write my wishes for us both; may it be thus with
thee and me, and when it is well with thee, think of
one who longs sometimes to know these things for herself.
But how well it is that our safety is in other
hands than ours! how often, had it depended even on
our continued desire for that which is good, had all been
over with us!

"Thy parents' arms, and not thy own,
Were those that held thee fast."

_11th Mo. 4th_. "Hunted with thoughts," as J.
Crook so truly describes it, "up and down like a
partridge on the mountains," often feeling in meeting
as if nothing could be compared with the joy
of _resting_ in Jesus, a rest to which I am still much
a stranger; no more able to command the mob of
unquiet thoughts than to hush the winds. At other
times, as this evening in my chamber, a sort of
strained anguish of soul, wherein my desire has been
that my eyes might he ever toward the Lord, that
He, in His own time, may pluck my feet out of the
net. The mental pain I have passed through makes
_some_ escape seem most desirable. If to lay down
the body were all I needed to escape, and I were fit
for it, how willingly would I accept such an invitation!
But I dare not ask it, nor any other thing,
but only that He who alone can, may make me in
His own time what He would have me to be; and
this evening I have been thinking that the painful
feelings I suffered might be the means appointed for
freeing me from the bondage of the worldly mind,
and from those tormenting, hurrying thoughts. Oh,
be it so; whether by means utterly incomprehensible
to me, or not, be the needful work done. I trust the
comprehension is not needed; and that the simplicity
and submission which _are_ needed may be granted
me; and that still [if] my enemies be expelled, as I
hope they will be by "His own arm," (as dear J.T.
said,) their presence will not be laid to my charge.
Alas, that I am so often guilty of dallying with
them! What wonder that the wilderness is so long
and tortuous, when I reckon the molten calves, the
murmurings, the fleshly desires?

_1st Mo. 17th_, 1850. Letter to M.B.

* * * Canst thou feel any sympathy or compa