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PROSPiCCT HI LI., I
Caswell (‘ounty, >’. C., >
April 28tli, 1874. j
1
Dear Jh'others and in Ziem :— j
It ha.s boon niy intention for some i
time to offer to the pnhi'C my vxpe-
•■ienee in religion, if it he religion—
ihongli in so miutli darkness and
gloom I fear 1 am a stranger to that
bies.sedness ; and feeling my ineompe-
tency to edify I ho;>e you will b-ar
with my infirmity, and I will try
lo abbreviate as mueh a.s possible.
Vrom my youth Uj) to my twenty-
.seeond vear in life I 'ivas a gay, giddy
and thoughtle.ss girl—company, fash
ion and the jirai.se of the world were
mv g’orv ; thought.s of (Utath and
eternity rarely ever interruiitcd my
mind. I went to |)reaehing often,
out like many of the pre.sent day—to
•see and be seim. I flatter my.selt to
say I wis kiitd-hearted and unassum-
Mig, ready to do mv friends any fa-
'.•or that wa.s in my power, never,eotild
bear deceit tind hy]>oerisv in any-
tliing, j.articnlitrly in religion, and - it
wa.s never mv design to wear any
■doak of divine things. I felt a j)ar-
tiality for the Methodist (b.etrine,
their plan of salvation appeared mo.st
roasonalde tind ottsy to me, besides I
received' iny education in a Metludist
.school to a'hieii I was mueh attachel,
and my teatdier was a minister of that
faith, who,se piety I never doubted,
and through all,, mv life have been
f.n'mmnihHl with Anninianinfluences.
I have often tittended tludr revivals,
and, on many oceasioys, during the
I’vereises, fell d(S»j)ly ilmj)re.ssed, but
like the morning mist'd .siy;n jia.s.serl
awav,and 1 returyed to my sin again,
and roilel H as a .sweet morsel
under my tongue.
During tlie vear 1862, I became
very intich tmubUsl. 1 don’t know
that lliere was any specdal instrnmen-
tvlitv—the j)!eii.stire that I onee dc-
iiir
hted
in l>e(“ame burden,some to
iup, 1 would strive to drive it off in
various wav,s,hill all in vain, and was
always fearful that .some one would
discover tiie melaneholy that was
brooding over my sjurii, I flilt foi'sa-
ken and uneai’ed for by all my rela
tives and friends, and wou.d often
wonder to my.self why it was so, I
could liear others .speaking of their
anxieties and troubles of the war, hut
I did not feed it as they exj)ros.sed
thein.solve.s, altliough I iiad a brother,
relatives and friends engaged in the
struii'gle. I thought .snrelv that 1
h.ad a wairse heart than anylKKly else,
vet there wa.s a depres.sion in my
feelings and my heart was burdened
with a secret trouble. I felt a keen
sense of my nn worth!ne.ss, and tliat I
had been a great .sinner, and tmly de
sired religion, but bow to obtain it I
wan at a loss- My « irslant prayer w'as,
Ijord convict my lieart of sin and
show me what to do. 1 felt willing to
reooauoe all worldiiness to obtain the
for the preparation for death
was (^'Juore imjvortancc to tne than
all the charms of the world, but my
faith was liedged and hounded. I
knew not how to pursue. I would
try to read the Bible, but it seemed
so dark and mysterious tliat I could ;
not understand it, and I woiihl lay it
aside, thinking that a convicted soul
would love to read the Ikble, and it |
would give tliem some comfort. I
yearned fiir eousolation hut it was no
w'here to be found. If I could have'
i'elt that God liail convicted me I
would liave liad some hope of deliv-
eianee, but I could not believe't.
1 attended a Mi.'^sionary Baptist
revival and felt very mueh concern
ed under the cxliortations; in eomlu-
.sion, the minister invited tliose wdio
wi.shed the prayers of the ehnrcli to
make it known b\' kneeling. I felt
that I wi-hed tlie jiravcrs of Chris
tians, and I immediately knelt, and
there came such a liardnoss in my
heart I could not shed a tear, and in
stead of trying to pray ravself, I
thought I had eomraittod a sin in
kneeling. I was trying to i mpress
the eongi'og.atinn that I wa.s seeking
rcliwion when it wa fal.-'c, and I felt
when I aroi^e to mv .«eat,if God would
fo"give me for 1:h!it deception I never
would knee! in public again.
Soon mv troubles returned vv’d?
more force than ever. There was io
eommenee another revival, Metliodist,
the next Sabbath. I went and iieard
a se mon from my old .school teacliee,
whii'h affected mo very much, and I
was n,nde willing that day to go anv
4T 'V 'V
where or lo anvt.hino; that'v.'buld id-
ford me any relief. 1 went bai-V,
n 'xt day feeling very much hardened,
.so mueh. so, that I couhl not sujiport
it, and at the first invitation for
mourners I arose deliberatidy and
knelt at th.' altar. Many
others followed and they .said liiany
were hajipily converted, but I wa.s
too mueh concerned about my own
eonditiou to know or care for iuiy-
thlng that wa.s going on. Thev
prayed and talked to me agoiM deal,
but I fe t that it was doing me no
good. I tried ti> pray uni'casinglv
my.self, but it seemed that mv jieti-
lions did not reach the throne of
grace. They would tell mo to look
and lielicve—that I would receive
the ble.ssing, that it would certdrdy
oome, and to give my heart to God.
I thought that it was all an impossi
bility, for I was trying to do all that
I could, ami coueluded that mine
u as a different case from all others.
I longed for some to tell nie their
feeling's when they were mourners,
but I received that comfort from
none. Their shouting and exhorta
tions did not excite me. I was im
moveable, determined never to trifle
with such a j>ure thing as I thought
religion ought to l>e. 1 went every
day until Idiursdav, went to the altar
every invitation ainl remained ’till
dismission, but mv iveart became
f ¥
hardened. I felt tliat I was in the
wrong place. I desired to be alone
where I could pour out my heart in
secret to him who heareth the peni
tent’s prayer. I felt compelled to
leave them. I went home feeling |
wor.-ie'thai; hefore—all my efl'orts had |
jiroved nnavail.’ng. I knew not what |
to do, but still my jvrayer was like |
tlie poor publican who smote Ujioii |
his hrea.st and said : ‘“God, he mer- |
eiful to me a sinner!” 1 felt that I |
had done all that I could, that mine I
was a peculiar and heljffes.s eiise and |
if I was saved it would be tlie good
ness and mercy of God. S.durday
night after I retired lo re.st there came
over me a peaceftii comfort wh'ch I
could not account for, yet did iiot
take it for religion. I had spent
many sleejile.ss nights before, but that
niglit 1 slejit sweetly. M"hen I
awoke next morning mv burden was
gone, everything was new; as I walk
ed in the house my stejis were easy
and ligfit, the birds sang a new ‘■'ong.
I felt joyful and liapjiy but .“a-d
nothing to any one. There seemed
to sjirlng up a love for the Primitive
Baptists, and I felt like I wanted to
lienr one preach. There wa.s a sec
tion meeting at Ebenezer, ten miles
from home. I asked my mother if
she wonhl go willi me there—she
consented. I never enjoyed, a ride
better, all nature seemed ' to be en
robed in beauty and lov’eliness. I
had been there often in my ehild-
iiood (living near there then) to
jn’emciiing and singing .scho.-ds, hut
(lie place appeared new,and altogeth
er tdianged. Elder David Moore
preached. I thought I never had
liear.d a I'^irnion, lodbrc. D had .seri -
j ouslv objected to tlie Biptists telUng
I their exjiericnces, but it svas just tlie
thing I wanted to hear—it was mu
sic to rnv ears; atid in tolling his
own I thought that he expreijsed
mv filings 'setter tlian J could have
do’.ie mvself. All die Witv home J
was perfectly hapjiy, no timuglii.s of
the world interrupted ray mind, ail
was love, joy and peace—ready lo ac
knowledge I had been brouglit by
wtiv.s I knew no'-, and in jiatiis I laid
not sfsm. I loved God and all ids
creation, and 1 lielield as it were,
with my natural ey&s, Jesus on the
ero.ss atoning for my sins ; I saw }h.s
puritv, goodness and love in forgiv
ing such a wretched sinner as 1 had
been, and_ Ihougtit surely I would
never sin against such a good Being
again. ISty onee sinful heart was
changed into a heart of love, and I
was filled vrith such a rapture of de
light I could not refrain trom telling
my motiier of it. But oh, too soon
to re,,ent it! Soon I began to have
doubts and fears that I had mi.ssed
the substance and caught the shadow.
I began to read the Bible which was
before so dark and mysterious,
I found it to f>e plain and easy to my
undei“standing, and every word of it
'seemed a confirmation of the Bible
doctrine. I had never noticed Iiefore
that “Satan was transformed into an
angd of liglit,.” 2nd Cor. 11: 14.
Here 1 began, to jiasJise, thinking jier-
haps Satan had given me that light.
Clouds then seemed to lie hoverinfr
over tne, which caus'd me much anx
iety. I knew that it was not sudi as
like
everv
God would have nor sneh a.s he de
serves, I eoneluded if I ever jiiiiuHl
tile e-hureh that it must be the Mis-
sioi ary Baptists,tiiey wen- mere jiojiu-
!ar,that their jn’eaehors wei'c educated
and it would be a liisadvantage tome
to join t'lc Old Baptist?,, although
what I lu'.d experieneid and read
had taught me tliat tiu-y were right.
I knew tliat such thoughts were
wicked, and wa.s I'onvinced that J
wouhi be [lunislied for if: worldly de
sires and pursuits crowded my mind
.so fast I lo.st .sight of fruflr. hiveor-
rujitions commenced ri>in:
mountains and it .seemed that
sin that I had conriiiUel in my life
came rushing in my mind and united
in my heart. Ala.s, I icli—I ftdi a.s
it were bom earth into tlie jaws of
hell—inexpre.ssib]e misery. I wa.s
like the dove that Moah sent out
from the Ark, I felt no rest for the
solos of my feet, 1 cc>ased to jiray, I
felt that I had abu.sed the goodness
of God, that I had played the hypo
crite and betrayed myself to the
worhi. I felt unworthy to walk up
on the earth, unworthy to eat the
bread the earth brouglit forth, un-
worthv alas! to fail at the feet of Je
sus and ask forgivenesS; si.ut cxi;
from earth and from heaven ;
doomed to e-,’er!a.«tirig iHini.shment
—wretched and undone, I ;-.;i-.v'*iu>
way ol fseajie. I hated my existence
and 'wanted to hide myself from all
of God’s creation. Sad and alone I
andv
would roiiiijrtthe
seeking relief luir, it was no wliere to
bo found. J could see ii'!: giHKhiess
of God in everytl ing: };is puritv.
wisdom and rigiiteou.-'mss, and to feel
how jioliuted and ecfrrujit mv heart
was, it seemeHi more tlian I eou'd
bear, and thought surely my heart
would bur,«t, and oftimes iuive pneSs-
ed my hand there tosupi'iort the bur
den—it WO.S so heavy I iho'ight it
imjM),sible to carry it. I cannot bet
ter describe my lieart tluin a soiid
rixik impenetrable and immoveable,
I felt no softue§.s nor symivuln- for
anything. ]No eartliE ties nor aflec-
tions aroused me from ray leihargv.
My lu'otlier ivas kiih-si in the last
battle fought at Petersburg; v/hen
the news reaeluxl us I eouhi see my
mother and sister weeping, l.ut rot a
dart of .sorrow could I fe'“i, vvfeteh(d
and) mi.sera'ole to kno'w that mv only
Imither, the only protector 1 Imil on
earth wa.s gone never to return, and i
could not shed a tear of j-egret for
iiim. How guilty and eondemned D
stood before God, and how desjiised
and abhorred by the ivorld—it even
makes me shudder to think of it^now.
1 felt meaner than anybody living o-f
that Gi’d had ever created—ami I
must rei-eive my portion in the low
est pit in hell. I was .siitisfied that I;
had committed the unjiardoruible .sug.
for I had never heard nor read of any
one being in such a condition as I
was. I \va.s eneomjias&iHl Nvith dev
ils and, had. m» power to re.sist them,
nor hope of dielivesance. I would
look back on the past to the time
that I received so mush comfort—it