“As I remember this service in the Congregational church, that method seems almost formal in comparison with this. Perhaps there is something in the very movement required,--the person going forward to the table to share the bread and wine, each with the rest, yet each of us receiving them directly from Christ--His own life, to be transfused into ours. There is certainly a clearer meaning in it all to me, whenever I join in the service at Trinity Church.
“The crowd in the church afterwards, who came to the later services and sermon, was also most impressive, filling in even every smallest space in the chancel, among the flowers. The sermon was strong and deep, impressing the thought that life is the one reality, and death and sorrow and sin only partial experiences. Life the ocean, and all these things but ripples on the surface.
“The last thought for the day,--in the evening,--was that injustice never does triumph, however it may seem.”
April 22. Emeline’s birthday,--the dearest of my sisters--more than a mother to me--now three-score and ten. But I live my child-life over again with her, and our two lives make a glad harmony all through. How much shall we keep of ourselves and our human relations, forever? All that has been real, surely. And so we are mature women and little children together, at once, in the immortal life.
The past week has been one of rather unpleasant experiences, in some ways. The Beverly Farms bribery investigation at the State House has occupied me. Whether bribery or not, great injustice is attempted on my native town, which I love and will defend, so long as I know her to be unmistakably in the right, as she is now.
I have done the little I could, so far; have written for the newspapers,--have sent a letter of request for veto to the governor,--and joined the women of Beverly in a petition to him, to the same effect, and I shall hold myself ready to do more, if needed. But I do trust that our legislature will, of themselves, make the matter right.
April 25. Spring is in the air, even in Boston, although just a week ago to-day we had one of the worst snowstorms of the season.
Yesterday’s experience is something not to be forgotten, though unrecordable. There are no words to repeat the spirit’s story, when it is taken possession of by the highest influences, and lifted up into the heaven of aspiration and consecration; when the way is open through sympathy with human souls, and with the Eternal Son, into the Father’s heart.