of its divinity. Conviction increased as I proceeded, and soon became overpowering. But here several things occurred to dissuade me, in vain, from decision in so plain and so high a course of duty. Among others, these two: first, "If you accredit the Bible, and adopt it as your highest rule in religion, what will become of the inward light?" I saw that they were two, and rivalrous of each other's claims; and that no Quaker could consistently appropriate the Bible according to its own demands as the word of God. Again, the awful revolution in all my social relationships, which must inevitably ensue, as the consequence of "obedience to the heavenly vision," by the scriptures manifested to my mind. These things, with others that I omit to name, held me in a suspense of agony. I was alone, and no mortal knew or sympathized with the solemn hour. The scenes of a future world; the sanctions of eternity; the insignificance of time; the worth of the soul; the absolute necessity of obedience; the solemnity of the crisis; the supremacy of the divine judgment in the case; and the safety of securing the approbation of God; together with the certain conviction that, at all events, there could be no ultimate danger in adhering "to the law and to the testimony;" since, whatever might be true, with respect to my old doctrine of "the light within," must be somewhere indicated in a volume whose truth Friends themselves admitted. These considerations, under the guidance of the Holy Ghost, at last prevailed; my knees bowed, my soul bowed with them, for the first time in my life; I wor

shipped, prayed, and solemnly devoted myself to the Author of my being and the hope of my soul, to be his for ever, to follow Jesus Christ "through good report and evil report ;" and by his "strength made perfect in weakness," to glorify him in the ways of truth, through time and through eternity. As soon as I had made this surrendry, conscious as I was of its unspeakable solemnity and perfect irretrievableness, I was assaulted with a fierce temptation, with a succession of "fiery darts of the wicked" one, all mainly in this form: You have made a vow which you will never keep; you have perjured your soul for ever; you are lost! You be religious! You are a hypocrite, a fool, a fiend! You will apostatize in less than three weeks, and, at last, make your bed in hell—a hateful, ruined wretch! Alas! thought I, it is certainly true. am wicked, and never felt worse than now that I wish to be good! Here my sins began to disgorge themselves to my view. "Sin revived, and I died— and the commandment, which was ordained to life, I found to be unto death. For sin, taking occasion by the commandment, deceived me, and by it slew me. Wherefore the law is holy, and the commandment holy, and just, and good." And thus it was that sin "became exceeding sinful" in my renewed perceptions. For several weeks my situation was wretched, indescribably wretched. I had plighted my being to serve my Maker; but this implied that I should become qualified for the service that was spiritual, and filial, and august. Instead of this, it was gloom, sin, and fearful anticipation. I had

I

I

no peace, and hope seemed a phantom of indefinite characteristics that continually eluded my grasp. was much alone; "with other views of men and manners now, and others of a life to come."

Forsaking, and forsaken of all friends,

I now perceived where earthly pleasure ends;
Hard task for one who lately knew no care,
And harder still, as learnt beneath despair.

God's holy word, once trivial in my view,
Now, by the voice of my experience true,
Seemed, as it is, the fountain whence alone

Must spring that hope I longed to make my own.-COWPER.

One thing that marked this dark hour, or rather month, in my memory, was a peculiar conviction of sin! not only of its superlatively evil nature, that deserves all that God denounces against it in his word, and that I was such a sinner as his truth describes; but that I had sinned unutterably much against his gospel, in slighting it, and specially against his holy word, in daring to reason against it! The insolence and the insufferable abomination of such neglect of "the oracles of God" appeared to me, as seen in the light of the goodness and the greatness of their adorable Author, astonishingly evil! And I wondered why I was not in hell; it seemed to me that I ought to go there, and that if I had any virtue I should approve of the righteousness and excellency of such a measure, as what ought to be. It seemed impossible that I should ever be saved-translated to those halcyon seats of God, and admitted to his holy presence for ever! The de

gree of these exercises, depending, in part, as I now suppose, upon the singular ardency of my native temperament, I do not attempt to describe; and would scarcely rehearse to my nearest friend the forms of excessive perturbation that harrowed up my soul till the fearful conflict was over! This occurred one night, on my knees, by my bedside. The service of prayer had before seemed at once impossible to be, by me, either omitted or performed. Then it was easy, it was delightful. How long I now continued praising rather than praying in this posture, I know not. But this I know, that my soul seemed absorbed in the glory of God-the chamber luminous with his presence, the universe glorious for his sake, while alleluias kept me delightfully awake until morning!

The luminous appearance of the chamber and of the bed where I lay, continued from the sight of distant objects, which the darkness of a cloudy November night (1812) would have rendered invisible had there been no intervening drapery to deepen it, I have purposely mentioned, and now proceed to explain. A sober philosophy, as I then thought, and now know, can perfectly resolve it. The state of one's mind, in proportion to the intensity of its affections, as melancholy or mirthful, as vigorous or languid, as imaginative or plodding, imparts its own character to surrounding objects; and often induces the sensation that the character is in the objects, and not in the mind. Nearly the same sentiment is more scientifically given by that great father of sound reasoning, Lord Bacon: "Omnes percep

tiones, tam sensus quam mentis, sint ex analogia hominis, non ex analogia universi; atque intellectus humanus instar speculi inæqualis ad radios rerum, qui suam naturam naturæ rerum immiscet, eamque distorquet et inficit." A little obstinate rationality, as Dr. Johnson calls it, kept me then and since from the profound or the sublime of religious enthusiasm. Had I yielded to feeling, to imagination, and seeming revelation, at a time when the genuine influences of the Spirit of God (as I believe) had made me happy in him, and thrilled my soul with holy ravishment, I might have been a devout madman, inspired, or any thing else, in my own esteem. But the balance of my mind was restored by reflection. "The truth and soberness" of christianity induced that reflection, and made me know that I ought to exercise my understanding, and "try the spirits" in every direction, before I trusted them. The case of Col. Gardner® I had previously heard or read, and it then recurred to me. Were it not, thought I, that I happen to know better, I could see and tell of prodigies, of angelic apparition and miraculous glory, as well as others; and now it seems clear to me how the excellent Gardiner was deceived, and how thousands of religious enthusiasts first come by their commission. I ascribe it, under God, to the power of his written truth alone, that I became not then a disciple of moonshine and extravagance. The wonder is the greater, that I was by education predisposed to it. The spring of the affections, or zeal in religion, however genuine, requires the balance-wheel of sound scriptural in