From childhood my thoughts turned toward God, and my desire was to be His child,—to be good. This desire was fostered by praying parents, and I was brought up after the manner of the "strictest sect" from my earliest recollection.
I was naturally a very timid child, yet when the invitation was given for those who desired the prayers of praying ones present, and who wanted to be Christians, to rise, I made—to me—the great effort, for I did want to be a Christian. I do not remember the time when I did not pray daily, and at that time I prayed as best I knew how, and the people prayed for me. But oh! how great was my surprise and disappointment when no change came over me, and I had found no more of God, and no conversion had taken place, to my consciousness.
I still continued to pray, until a year or two after, when I met with such sore defeat that, for a time, I thought it useless to pray to a God who would not hear or answer my prayer. My mother, one of the dearest of all the earth to me, was taken with a serious belief of illness. I prayed so earnestly, and believed so certainly that God would not let her die; but the desired request was not granted, and she left us. At this point my faith in God and prayer seemed crushed out of me, for if God could do all things by His omnipotent power, and He had commissioned His people to "cast out devils, heal the sick, raise the dead," why was it not done; why were His people so powerless; why was God so distant and so little manifested among those who professed to be His, and to call upon Him? My praying almost ceased for a time, but my desire to be a Christian never left me.
