Saturday, January 24, 2015

Tuesday Jan 24, 1865

It has been snowing or blowing all day -- but the evergreens are still heavy with snow.  The drifting ice has stopped the steamboats for a week past.  
This is my birthday would I recall the past if I could, no, I think not --its sins and follies I may well deplore, but these I humbly hope have been blotted out in Jesus blood.  What do we live for but to gain immortality, if Christ of this free grace has given me this, it is enough, life’s great end has been accomplished --   My life may not have been what in youth I pictured it, I may have lacked the energy to shape my own destiny -- I may have thought to act myself  a worthy part instead of this passive bearing and forbearing -- Be that as it may God has ordered all things well.  My life has passed in quietness and obscurity.  I hope it will not prove to be altogether useless. 
I have written to Kate today -- and sent one of little Annie’s Memoirs to Mr. Wm Slocomb, Rochester N. Y.

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