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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.