But I was still in the fog.
For the next three days I worked very hard trying to be a Christian. I
attended a meeting each night, rose for prayer, prayed, did everything I
was told to do, and as much more as I could think of. The burden of my
prayer and of my requests for prayer was that I might have faith. I
wanted to get something that I thought every Christian had, or must have
in order to be a Christian, and so far as I knew, I was willing to pay
the price. But nothing resulted, except the natural weariness from my
own exertions. I was still in the fog.
The fifth day was "Fast Day," a good old New England institution, with a
prayer meeting in the morning, which I attended and at which I rose for
prayer. In the afternoon was a union service, with a civic or
semi-religious topic, but I attended it, as I did not want anything to
get by me that might contribute to the solution of my problem. There was
scarcely anything about the service that was calculated to make a
spiritual impression. The address was poor, as also was the music.
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