they were, when I first began to inquire what I should do to be saved. I felt myself to be a poor lost sinner, destitute of every thing to recommend myself to the divine favour; that I was, by nature, inclined to every evil way; and that it had been the mere sovereign, restraining mercy of God, not my own goodness, which had kept me from committing the most flagrant crimes. This view of myself humbled me in the dust, melted me into sorrow and contrition for my sins, induced me to lay my soul at the feet of Christ, and plead his merits alone, as the ground of my acceptance. I felt that if Christ had not died, to make an atonement for sin, I could not ask God to dishonour his holy government so far as to save so polluted a creature, and that should he even now condemn me to suffer eternal punishment, it would be so just, that my mouth would be stopped, and all holy beings in the universe would acquiesce in the sentence, and praise him, as a just and righteous God. My chief happiness now consisted in contemplating the moral perfections of the glorious God. I longed to have all intelligent creatures love him ; and felt, that even fallen spirits could never be released from their obligations to love a Being possessed of such glorious perfections. I felt happy in the consideration, that so benevolent a Being governed the world, and ordered every passing event. I lost all disposition to murmur at any providence, assured that such a Being could not err in any dispensation. Sin, in myself and others, appeared as that abominable thing, which a holy God hates,—and I earnestly strove to avoid sinning, not merely because I was afraid of hell, but because I feared to displease God, and grieve his Holy Spirit. I attended my studies in school, with far different feelings and different motives, from what I had ever done before. I felt my obligation to improve all I had to the glory of God ; and since he in his providence had favoured me with advantages for improving my mind, I felt that I should be like the slothful servant, if I neglected them. I, therefore, diligently employed all my hours in school, in acquiring useful knowledge, and spent my evenings and part of the night in spiritual enjoyments.
“While thus recounting the mercies of God to my soul, I am particularly affected by two considerations; the richness of that grace, which called and stopped me in my dangerous course, and the ungrateful returns I make for so distinguished a blessing. I am prone to forget the voice which called me out of darkness into light, and the hand which drew me from the horrible pit and the miry clay. When I first discerned my deliverer, my grateful heart offered him the services of a whole life, and resolved to acknowledge no other master. But such is the force of my native depravity, that I find myself prone to forsake him, grieve away his influence from my heart, and walk in the dark and dreary path of the backslider. I despair of making great attainments in the divine life, and look forward to death only to free me from my sins and corruptions. Till that blessed period, that hour of my emancipation, I am resolved, through the grace and strength of my Redeemer, to maintain a constant warfare with my inbred sins, and endeavour to perform the duties incumbent on me, in whatever situation I may be placed.
‘Safely guide my wandering feet.
Travelling in this vale of tears ;
Dearest Saviour, to thy seat
Lead, and dissipate my fears.’”
The change in her feelings and views, which she has thus described, was a thorough and permanent one. She immediately entered on the duties, and sought for the pleasures, of religion, with all the ardour of her natural character. Several letters to her young friends, written soon after this period, have been preserved. They are almost exclusively confined to religious topics; and some of them, addressed to individuals who had not then made the Saviour their refuge, breathe an earnest desire for their welfare, and a faithfulness in beseeching them to repent of their sins and believe in the Redeemer, which indicate the early workings of the same zeal that afterwards led her to Burmah.
“Redeeming Jove,” says an intimate friend, “was now her theme. One might spend days with her, without hearing any other subject reverted to. The throne of grace, too, was her early and late resort. I have known her to spend cold winter evenings in a chamber without fire, and return to the family with a solemnity spread over her countenance, which told of Him with whom she had been communing. Nor was her love of social pleasures diminished, although the complexion of them was completely changed. Even at this late period I fancy I see her, with strong feeling depicted on her countenance, inclining over her Bible, rising to place it on the stand, retiring to her chamber, and after a season of prayer, proceeding to visit this and that family, to speak of him whom her soul loved. She thirsted for the knowledge of gospel truth, in all its relations and dependencies. Besides the daily study of Scripture, with Guise, Orton, and Scott before her, she perused with deep interest the. works of Edwards, Hopkins, Bellamy, Doddridge, &c. With Edwards on Redemption, she was instructed, quickened, strengthened. Well do I remember the elevated smile which beamed on her countenance, when she first spoke to me of its precious contents. She had transcribed, with her own hand, Edwards’ leading and most striking remarks on this great subject. When reading scripture, sermons, or other works, if she met with any sentiment or doctrine, which seemed dark and intricate, she would mark it, and beg the first clergyman,” who called at her father’s, to elucidate and explain it.”
Her religious feelings were nevertheless affected by the same fluctuations as those of other Christians. The fervour of her affections made her, indeed, more liable than persons of a more equable temperament, to the changes, which physical as well as moral causes occasion in the spiritual joys of Christians. Her piety did not consist in feeling ; but there is no true religion without feeling: and the heart which has ever been suitably affected by the stupendous truths and hopes of Christianity, cannot be satisfied with a dull insensibility, or even with a calm equanimity. There will be a consciousness of disproportion between the subjects which Christianity presents to the mind, and the feelings which they awaken ; and the self reproach that will thus be occasioned, will be increased, by a recollection of the strong affections and lively joys which the heart experienced in the ardour of its first love. Every believer has frequent occasion to accuse himself of a want of lively sensibility to his privileges and duties; and while he can look back to seasons when he was more zealous in his piety, and when his enjoyment of religious pleasures was greater than at present, he will fear that he has receded instead of advancing. He will deplore his unfaithfulness and coldness, and will “write bitter things” against himself.
The fragments of Mrs. Judson’s journal contain many details of these alternations of joy and sorrow, of hope and self-accusation, of which all Christians are, in some degree, partakers. A few extracts will now be inserted ;
“July 30, 1806. I find my heart cold and hard. I fear there is no spiritual life in me. I am in an unhappy state, for nothing in life can afford me satisfaction, without the light of God’s countenance. Why is my heart so far from thee, O God, when it is my highest happiness to enjoy thy presence ! Let me no more wander from thee ; but
‘Send down thy Spirit from above,
And fill my soul with sacred love.’
“Aug. 5. Were it left to my choice, whether to follow the vanities of the world, and go to heaven at last, or to live a religious life, have trials with sin and temptation, and sometimes enjoy the light of God’s reconciled countenance, I should not hesitate a moment in choosing the latter ; for there is no real satisfaction in the enjoyments of time and sense. If the young in the midst of their diversions, could picture to themselves the Saviour hanging on the cross, his hands and feet streaming with blood, his head pierced with thorns, his body torn with scourges, and reflect that by their wicked lives, they open those wounds afresh, they would feel constrained to repent, and cry for mercy on their souls. O my God, let me never more join with the wicked world, or take enjoyment in any thing short of conformity to thy holy will ! May I ever keep in mind the solemn day, when I shall appear before thee ! May I ever flee to the bleeding Saviour, as my only refuge, and renouncing my own righteousness, may I rely entirely on the righteousness of thy dear Son !
“Aug. 6. I have many doubts about my spiritual state. I fear I do not really love the divine character ; and
