Christ. Humbly believing that through sovereign mercy and grace I have
been enabled so to do, and having felt in some measure its effects on my
still depraved and deceitful heart, it is my desire to show my
attachment to the cause of Him who died for me by devoting my life to
his service."

There can be no doubt that David Livingstone's heart was very thoroughly
penetrated by the new life that now flowed into it. He did not merely
apprehend the truth--the truth laid hold of him. The divine blessing
flowed into him as it flowed into the heart of St. Paul, St. Augustine,
and others of that type, subduing all earthly desires and wishes. What
he says in his book about the freeness of God's grace drawing forth
feelings of affectionate love to Him who bought him with his blood, and
the sense of deep obligation to Him for his mercy, that had influenced,
in some small measure, his conduct ever since, is from him most
significant. Accustomed to suppress all spiritual emotion in his public
writings, he would not have used these words if they had not been very
real. They give us the secret of his life. Acts of self-denial that are
very hard to do under the iron law of conscience, become a willing
service under the glow of divine love. It was the glow of divine love as
well as the power of conscience that moved Livingstone. Though he seldom
revealed his inner feelings, and hardly ever in the language of ecstasy,
it is plain that he was moved by a calm but mighty inward power to the
very end of his life. The love that began to stir his heart in his
father's house continued to move him all through his dreary African
journeys, and was still in full play on that lonely midnight when he
knelt at his bedside in the hut in Ilala, and his spirit returned to his
God and Saviour.

At first he had no thought of being himself a missionary. Feeling "that