I am quite sick of modern religion--it is such
a mixture, such a medley, such a compromise.
I find much, indeed, of this religion in my own
heart, for it suits the flesh well--but I would
not have it so, and grieve it should be so.

The religion which I want is that of the Holy Spirit.

I know nothing but what He teaches me.

I feel nothing but what He works in me.

I believe nothing but what He shows me.

I only mourn when He smites my rocky heart.

I only rejoice when He reveals the Savior.

This religion I am seeking after, though miles and
miles from it--but no other will satisfy or content me.

When the blessed Spirit is not at work in me,
and with me, I fall back into all the . . .
darkness,
unbelief,
earthliness,
idleness,
carelessness,
infidelity, and
helplessness
of my Adam nature.

True religion is a supernatural and mysterious thing.