The dark tale

(Gleanings from the Inner Life of Ruth Bryan)

December 31st, 1837. The last day of the year has
come again! How rapidly are the wheels of time
revolving and bearing me on to a boundless eternity!
Another year closing, and of what do its "gone-by"
periods testify? Why! of aggravated transgression
and ingratitude on my part—and most astonishing
mercy and longsuffering from my covenant God!

There has also been granted more laying hold of
Christ; and, when sensible of sin, more running
to Him for pardon and cleansing, and, as it were,
hanging upon Him in my desperate case. All this,
with much more, I take to be very, very great

But, oh! the dark tale of my own sin, which has
also marked this year—it is too black to be told!
and a thousand other evils—make up a list which
ought to sink me into shame and self-abasement!

Almighty Spirit, condescend to melt me into real
contrition, that having received much—I may love
much; and having sinned much—I may have
much forgiven.

I am sure the flesh is no friend of mine, and as I
have not resolution to cut off its right-hand sins,
and to pluck out its right-eye sins—it is most
merciful of the Lord to do it for me. And though
I often cry out from pain, my heart says—Go on,
Lord, deal with me as You will; only support and
bring me to walk closely with You.