her composition, to permit her to go down into the depths, and
prostrate herself in the dust as Sarah did. She could turn her full
gaze to the sun, and bask in its genial beams, while Sarah felt
unworthy to be touched by a single ray, and looked up to its light with
imploring but shaded eyes.

In November, 1827, Sarah again visited Charleston. Her heart yearned
for Angelina, whose religious state excited her tenderest solicitude,
and called for her wisest counsel. For that enthusiastic young convert
was again running off the beaten track, and picking flaws in her new
doctrines. But there was another reason why Sarah desired to absent
herself from Philadelphia for a while.

I can touch but lightly on this experience of her life, for her
sensitive soul quivered under any allusion to it; and though her diary
contains many references to it, they are chiefly in the form of prayers
for submission to her trial, and strength to bear it. But it was the
key-note to the dirge which sounded ever after in her heart, mingling
its mournful numbers with every joy, even after she had risen beyond
her religious horrors.

For months she fought against this new snare of Satan, as she termed
it, this plain design to draw her thoughts from God, and compass her
destruction. The love of Christ should surely be enough for her, and
any craving for earthly affection was the evidence of an unsanctified
heart. In a delicate reference to this, in after years, she says:--

"It is a beautiful theory, but my experience belies it, that God can be
all in all to man. There are moments, diamond points in life, when God
fills the yearning soul, and supplies all our needs, through the