Up at worship in the morning, but nothing special to record. It is sad to be quiet under formality. O! let the cry of the mourner be in exercise. How long, Lord, wilt Thou hide Thyself? Return, return. What will come up on the land of Thy people but barrenness until the outpouring of Thy Spirit? Oh, what a wonder that Thy Spirit should be poured out as a spirit of grace and supplication! Oh, there will be work done then. Come, come, and do not tarry till the wilderness become as a garden which the Holy one hath blessed, that it be not like what it was in the sluggard's possession. May the Tree of Promise yield largely, the Tree of Life giving the sap, and the love of the Owner opened in all.
Wrote A. F. L__.
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