Faith?—what is faith? I know about it. I know that its object is the Son of God. The very devils know as much as that. I know that He is the Saviour. But how He saves, and how a lost soul can come to have a part in Him, woe is me, I cannot tell.
I feel about faith as I do about repentance. I think if I could repent but for one short moment—repent truly—salvation would be mine. But vain is trying, I cannot—cannot repent. At times, I feel as if I were very near that blessed experience; as if my being would dissolve in tears—ah; vainest deception! Oh, for a tear—a single tear! I keep sighing, Father of mercy—but what boots the prayer of anguish if barren of faith?—Father of mercy, oh, grant me a tear!
L. W. J. S., Letters from
Hell, Richard Bentley & Son, London, 1889
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