“I have had a difficulty in breathing, so that I have not been able to sleep for more than a week, occasioned, I suppose, by the stovepipe’s parting and completely filling my room with smoke and gas at bedtime, and my sleeping there without proper ventilation. I did not, at the time, suppose smoke was so unwholesome, nor consider that the impure gas which generated from the wood and coal was mingled with it. I awoke with such a sense of suffocation that I could not breathe lying down, and spent the remainder of the night sitting up. I never before knew the dreadful feeling of stifling sensations. I began to fear I should never sleep again. I therefore resigned myself into the hands of God for life or death, entreating him to spare me if he had any further need of me in his vineyard; otherwise I had no wish to live. I felt entirely reconciled to the hand of God upon me. But I also felt that satanic influences must be resisted. I therefore bade Satan get behind me and away from me, and told the Lord that I would not turn my hand over to choose either life or death, but that I would refer it implicitly to Him who knew me altogether. My future was unknown to myself, therefore said I, Thy will is best. Life is of no account to me, so far as its pleasures are concerned. All its riches, its honors, are nothing compared with usefulness. I do not crave them; they cannot satisfy or fill the aching void which unperformed duty leaves to me. I would not live uselessly, to be a mere blot or blank in life. And though it seems a martyr’s death to die thus, I am resigned, if that is God’s will. {1T 672.2}

Og påbyd os, søg betydelig større lyksalighed.
Udover en flygtig verden som denne.

"Nu kan jeg sige sammen med digteren:

Herre, det er ikke min bekymring,
enten om jeg dør eller lever.
Hvis livet bliver langt, vil jeg være glad,
Det må jeg adlyde længe,
hvis det er kort, hvorfor skulle jeg så blive bedrøvet?
Denne verden må gå forbi.
Kristus leder mig ikke gennem mørke rum,
som han førhen gik igennem.
Dem, som kommer i hans rige,
(674)Kom, Herre, når nåde har gjort mig velegnet,
at se dit velsignede ansigt;
for hvis dig værk på jorden bliver smukt,
hvad må din herlighed så blive?
Jeg vil med glæde slutte min sørgende klage,
og tunge, syndefulde dage,
jeg forener mig med sejrende hellige,
der synger Jehovas pris.
Min kundskab til den tilstand er kun lille,
mine trosøjne er uklare;
men det er nok at Kristus ved alt,
og jeg vil være hos ham.
-Baxter.