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January 31st 1850
One twelvth [twelfth?] of my 21st year has closed without any
progress in my spiritual life, I fear I have digres
sed far, far from the right way. And can only say
Lord I am unclean, unholy, and wicked still.
The numerous advantages and privileges granted
me by my merciful Creator are all lost have been
unimproved And I am a disobedient
rebellious hell, deserving wretch But I am
resolved when I perish to perish at the cross
I can but perish if I go for if I stay away
I know I shall forever die. While time is
lent me there is hope I do not deserve any
thing but incessant chastisement and retri
bution from the Good Being. I have never
received any thing but love in return
for my rebellion and wickedness I lay hold
to the promises declared in his most
holy word. "He that cometh to me I will in
no wise cast out thank God, for the sweet
consolation contained in those blessed
words. I pray the Lord would teach me how
to come but receive the water of life.