have me to do?' I would shout up into the empty vault of heaven: 'Ah,
why plaguest Thou me so? What shall I do? Give me an answer unless
Thou wilt have me consumed by inward fre, drying up the living liquid
of life. Wouldst Thou have me to give up all? I have. I have no
dreams to realize. I want nothing, have nothing, and am willing to
die in any way. What ties I have are few, and can be cut with a
groan.'"

"Monday, June 26.--Solomon said, after he had tasted all the joys of
the world, 'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.' I, my friend, who
have scarcely tasted any of the pleasures of the world, would say
with Solomon, 'all is vanity.' I see nothing in which I can work. All
are vanities, shadows; beneath all there is nothing. Great God! what
is all this for? Why torment and pain me so? Why is all this action a
profanity to me? And even holiness, what is it?

"Oh! I am dumb; my soul is inarticulate. There is that in me which I
would pour out. Oh! why is it that the noblest actions of humanity
speak not to my soul? All life is inadequate--but not in the sense of
the world. I would joyfully be silent, obscure, dead to all the
world, if this alone which is in me had life. I ask not for name,
riches, external conditions of delight or splendor. No; the meanest
of all would be heaven to me, if this inward impulse had action,
lived itself out. But no; I am imprisoned in spirit. What imprisons?
What is imprisoned? Who can tell?

"You say, good adviser, 'You must accept things as they are--be
content to be; have faith in God; do that work which your hands find
to do.' Good; but it is taken for granted we know what things
are--which is the question. 'Be content to be.' Be what? 'Have faith