FROM MEMOIRS OF INCREASE WOODWARD, 1742-1822.
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"I seem driven as upon tumultuous waves and waters, where I can neither see not find bottom;
tossed as with a tempest through heights and depths; wearied with watchings, with cold and with
hunger. I mourn while in the deeps while covered with clouds and beset with discouragements,
lest I shall never experience deliverance from the corruptions of fallen nature, - from that which
brings death to the soul. - Darkness surrounds my fearful trembling heart. I long for a little rest
from my anxious labor, - for a portion of the true bread and the living water to sustain soul, for I
am ready to perish by the way. I will patiently wait and see. Will the Lord quite forget? will he
forsake? will he withdraw and leave me in my arduous travel towards his holy house? - He called
me, and I set out with full purpose of heart to find him: but oh! the intricacies, - the windings of
the path, - I cannot comprehend them! It is hard travelling; the sands are deep, and my feet are
weary. How far off is the land of rest?"