believed that "a jealous God," who can brook no rivals, had taken away
our loving husband and father; our strong and brave son and brother,
because we loved them too much, and I was brought up to think it a great
presumption to assume that such a worm of the dust as I, could be aught
to the Creator but a subject of punishment.

During the spring of 1831, mother said to me:

"Sabbath week is our communion, and I thought you might wish to join the
church."

I was startled and without looking up, said:

"Am I old enough?"

"If you feel that the dying command of the Savior, 'do this in
remembrance of me' was addressed to you, you are old enough to obey it."

Not another word was said and the subject was never again broached
between us, but here a great conflict began. That command was given to
me, but how could I obey it without eating and drinking damnation to
myself? Was mine a saving faith, or did I, like the devils, believe and
tremble? I had been believing as long as I could remember, but did not
seem to grow in the image of God.

The conflict lasted several days. Sleep left me. The heavens were iron
and the earth brass. I turned to Erskine to learn the signs of saving
faith, but found only reason to suspect self-deception. I could not
submit to God's will--could not be willing that William should be
lost--nay, I was not willing that any one should be lost. I could not