With the allurements of smells, I am not much concerned. When
absent, I do not miss them; when present, I do not refuse them; yet
ever ready to be without them. So I seem to myself; perchance I am
deceived. For that also is a mournful darkness whereby my abilities
within me are hidden from me; so that my mind making enquiry into
herself of her own powers, ventures not readily to believe herself;
because even what is in it is mostly hidden, unless experience
reveal it. And no one ought to be secure in that life, the whole
whereof is called a trial, that he who hath been capable of worse to
be made better, may not likewise of better be made worse. Our only
hope, only confidence, only assured promise is Thy mercy.
The delights of the ear had more firmly entangled and subdued me;
but Thou didst loosen and free me. Now, in those melodies which Thy
words breathe soul into, when sung with a sweet and attuned voice, I
do a little repose; yet not so as to be held thereby, but that I can
disengage myself when I will. But with the words which are their
life and whereby they find admission into me, themselves seek in my
affections a place of some estimation, and I can scarcely assign
them one suitable.
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