The startling suggestion has mentally come to me: "You never have written of your healing to the Journal, although always intending to do so, even looking forward to the work with pleasant anticipation, when one remaining victory shall have been won. If the privilege were to be taken from you while waiting to be every whit whole, how would you feel? Is not this postponement a temptation to prevent your testifying to the good already received?" Moreover, I agree with others that more frequent reports of God's dealings with us in and about Boston, New England's Jerusalem, should be forthcoming; for surely Bostonians, of all people, have an abundance out of which to give for the cheer and encouragement of the brethren. So, with the promise still ringing in my ears, "He whose right it is shall reign," I delay no longer; but, with God's blessing give, in their order, my steps heavenward.
For many years I suffered from internal organic troubles. with all the complications that such a condition is sure to bring about; caused mainly, it was decided, by an injury received in childhood. I had consulted always the most skilful physicians and surgeons, and had passed through several operations. At one time I entertained great expectations of receiving benefit from the treatment of a celebrated surgeon who came from Europe purposely to attend a few critical special cases, mine among the number. Following faithfully all he advised, I submitted to another operation. After six months' daily care I was no better, but worse. I could not walk, lie, or sleep without pain.
It may be well to add that I was a devout Episcopalian, having been confirmed at an early age, of my own accord. What seemed to feed others did not feed me, could not; and as circumstances would not warrant my joining some benevolent order, whose systematic discipline I craved, I turned for my only nourishment, outside the Bible, to my beloved devotional authors, such as Fènelon, Kobertson, Farrar. The chief inspiration through pastors came to me from Trinity's pulpit, Boston, where for a long time I was an attendant, not a member. However deep the depression, ominous the darkness, or heavy the burden, I never left those portals as I entered them, when its pastor filled the pulpit.
