Tuesday, 30 May, 1865

Fine morning. All without seems fair and beautiful to a casual observer, but how sad am I when I revert to the past, contemplate the future and contrast with the present. O, for a hand to guide me through the darkness that sometimes prevails in these momentous times. There are times when there is no ray of light to illumine the dark path. Then I pause and endeavor by faith to look away beyond the narrow limits which now encompass me and in my imagination view an extended plain, where all is tranquil, all is peace, no noise or tumult is there. How calm, how soothing to my feelings when I can steal away and in some sequestered spot give vent to those feelings. There where I may commune and hold sweet converse with the unseen. He whom, though he is unseen himself, will reward openly those who suffer for his namesake. Let me imitate one who was willing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season.1At this point in the Journal the next five lines have been marked through. Anyone wishing to help make out what she wrote can click here. РРI weave a little on my dress every day when I find the time. Pigeo spins in the weaving room and Martha works in there too when she is not jabbing. I love to have those servants about me. They are always cheerful and willing to do whatever I wish done. РРParky’s still laid up with her jaw, which she has suffered with ever since Sunday. РРBill, and Liv to assist him, sheared sheep today. 100 lbs. wool from 15 sheep.