. . . There appeared to be
in me then, as I find it to be in me now, such an entire loss of
what regards myself, that any of my own interests gave me little
pain or pleasure; ever wanting to will or wish for myself only
the very thing which God does." In another place she writes:
"We all of us came near perishing in a river which we found it
necessary to pass. The carriage sank in the quicksand. Others
who were with us threw themselves out in excessive fright. But I
found my thoughts so much taken up with God that I had no
distinct sense of danger. It is true that the thought of being
drowned passed across my mind, but it cost no other sensation or
reflection in me than this--that I felt quite contented and
willing it were so, if it were my heavenly Father's choice."
Sailing from Nice to Genoa, a storm keeps her eleven days at sea.
"As the irritated waves dashed round us," she writes, "I could
not help experiencing a certain degree of satisfaction in my
mind. I pleased myself with thinking that those mutinous
billows, under the command of Him who does all things rightly,
might probably furnish me with a watery grave.
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