was among my friends.  Endeavoured to give a religious tone to the conversation, but some, who ought to have come forward, were silent; and to others without the least intention I fear I have given offence.  From this cause my mind is troubled; but on reflection, think, I ought not to yield to such a feeling, being conscious that my aim was to do right.  To Thee, Oh Saviour, will I look to overrule ‘my every weak, though good, design.’  While I write my soul is happy.  Glory be to God.—­I am now enter the last hour of 1835, much abased on the review of my own unfaithfulness, yes earnestly desiring to commence anew, if permitted a little longer to sojourn on earth.

  Oh! take possession of my heart,
    And let it hence Thy temple be;
  Willing, Thou seest me, now to part
    With all, that is unlike to Thee;
  O let the Spirit’s seal be given
  The earnest of my future heaven!

  To Thee, O Lord, I would present
    My life, and health, and talent, now;
  Let nothing mar the pure intent
    And purpose of my solemn vow;
  But now the covenant blood apply,
  My feeble act to ratify.

  Come, sway the sceptre in my soul,
    Its secret springs adjust and move;
  Model each word, each thought control,
    And fill me with the light of love;
  So shall I do Thy perfect will,
  As angels, who Thy word fulfil.

Ten minutes past midnight.—­To put me in remembrance,—­my two friends at a quarter before two every day.  My one friend at three every Wednesday.”

“1836.  Awoke with, ’Reckon yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God;’ and ‘Be ye not of a doubtful mind.’  I feel resolved henceforth, thus ‘to reckon.’  I have been too long dying—­not dead, and dishonouring God by ‘a doubtful mind.’  I now enjoy peace, with a firm determination to keep His commandments, which are not grievous; but I feel my weakness such, that I cannot trust myself.  O my God, help me to keep my covenant vows!”

  Look high, look low, look far and near,
  Changes in every scene appear;
  The blossom fades, the day is gone,
  And night succeeds the morning sun. 
  The clear blue firmament is seen. 
  But gath’ring clouds soon intervene;
  The sun, resplendent, hastes away,
  To give to other lands the day. 
  The vig’rous youth to manhood grown,
  Becomes a hoary sire anon;
  The blooming maid becomes a bride,
  A loving consort by her side,
  The zenith point of earthly bliss,—­
  But ah! a changing scene is this: 
  The fairest prospects earth can boast,
  Are poor, and transient at the most;
  And closest ties of friendship fail
  To stay the bliss, we smile to hail.