So we pass over the intervening time to dwell a moment on the
revival of 1856. That year, the pupils were very studious, and kind
in their feelings towards each other and their teachers; but the
winter was nearly over before any additions were made to the now
diminished number of believers. The teachers mourned; still the
heavens were brass, and the earth iron. Christians were lukewarm,
and none seemed to have power with God.
Miss Fiske returned from the English prayer meeting Sabbath evening,
February 18th, in that desponding state that sometimes follows
intense and protracted desire, when its object is not attained. At
such times, the sensibilities seem paralyzed, and emotion dies of
sheer exhaustion. The pupils had retired; so also had Miss Rice; and
she was left alone. Her thoughts brooded over the state of her
charge, but she had no strength to rise and carry those precious
souls to Christ. She could not sleep, and yet so shrunk from the
duties of the morrow, that she longed for a lengthening out of the
night, rather than the approach of dawn. Eleven o'clock struck, and
there was a knock at the door.
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