‘Blessed Father, nip every foolish wish in blossom, Lead me any way to truth and goodness; but if it might be, I would not pass from idol to idol. Let no mean sculpture deform a mind disorderly, perhaps ill-furnished, but spacious and life-warm. Remember thy child, such as thou madest her, and let her understand her little troubles, when possible, oh, beautiful Deity!’
‘Sunday morning. — Mr. —— preached on the nature
of our duties, social and personal. The sweet dew of
truth penetrated my heart like balm. He pointed out
the various means of improvement, whereby the
humblest of us may be beneficent at last. How just, how
nobly true, — how modestly, yet firmly uttered, — his
opinions of man, — of time, — of God!
‘My heart swelled with prayer. I began to feel hope that time and toil might strengthen me to despise the “vulgar parts of felicity,” and live as becomes an immortal creature. I am sure, quite sure, that I am getting into the right road. Oh, lead me, my Father! root out false pride and selfishness from my heart; inspire me with virtuous energy, and enable me to improve every talent for the eternal good of myself and others.’
A friend of Margaret, some years older than herself,
gives me the following narrative: —
“I was,” says she, in substance, “suffering keenly
from a severe trial, and had secluded myself from all my
friends, when Margaret, a girl of twenty, forced her way
to me. She sat with me, and gave me her sympathy,
and, with most affectionate interest, sought to draw me
