Sunday. Sept 25th.
Went to Church, & took the sacrament. I wish the sacramental service were shortened, & weeded of its expressions “holy mysteries” &c. What mystery is there, can there be, in this simple rite? Are there not many weak brethren who shrink back from holy mysteries, and who wd. hurry on with a trembling joy to “do this in remembrance” of their Lord?[1] Blessed Lord Jesus! Thou who art the strength of the weak, strengthen my heart—& let the remembrance of Thee, outlast, within it, the affecting rite which I, in my unworthiness, performed this morning.
The Cliffes dined here as usual. Afterwards we waited more than half an hour at the chapel where no Mr. Moens appeared. Returned disappointed, & not wet; tho’ the wetness seemed the more natural & probable consequence of our expedition. I hope it may be fine tomorrow, at least until I get to Malvern. When I do get there, it may rain newfoundland dogs & Tom Cats,— & be welcome—if any rain cd. keep me there.
So Bro met Mrs. Boyd yesterday, & she complained of my not going to Malvern!
No letters. How it is raining!—
1. Luke xxii.19.
