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LETTERS. 265
large, secluded rooms of the upper story, upon my path in
life, and upon what I have gained and found in it.
You, who like to contemplate human life in the light of
God’s love, you will hear with pleasure that these weeks
have been to me a continual feast of thanksgiving ; a re-
joicing at the belief with which my own course of life has
inspired me, in an all-guiding, loving Providence, although
for the greater number of human beings it is not revealed
during this mortal life; a thanksgiving for the days of suf-
fering and,strife in the dark, which absorbed my soul and
gave to its chaotic powers unity in their direction ; thanks-
giving for the grace, which when the time had arrived, let.
the caterpillar’s life change, and the butterfly burst its
fettering chrysalis, or, to speak without allegory —lct me
find God in Christ, and in Him an answer to all my ques-
tions ; comfort in my afflictions; hope for all who were
seeking and suffering, for all who were sighing and strug-
gling; and then to see earth, its nations and generations
in the light of this glorifying, paternal Providence, this
Redeemer and Accomplisher. How often, during this
time, have I not in grateful joy repeated those words of
Scripture, which I wish to have one day written on my
grave, thence to speak to all mankind: “ When I called
upon the Lord, He delivered me out of all my trouble.”
Something in the state of my body and soul tells me
that my actual working-days are over, that I now may have
rest, at any rate comparatively, and that my labor hence-
forth must be more inward than outward. And also this
is a pleasant fecling. ‘The amiable patriarchal family, to
whom my former home now belongs, and which lets me
feel as if it still were mine, enables me here to find the
quiet of my old age, a peaceful home after life’s restless
journey. In about a week’s time I return to Stockholm to
spend the winter. There I hope to receive a few lines
from you, my dear Lotten.
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