8. I am feeble. The original is “benumbed,” or frozen. A heat of
fear, a chill of horror, a flaming desire, a horrible insensibility—by these
successive miseries a convinced sinner is brought to death’s door. And sorebroken. Crushed as in a mill. The body of the sick man appears to be all
out of joint and smashed into pulp, and the soul of the desponding is in an
equally wretched state. I have roared by reason of the disquietness of myheart. Deep and hoarse is the voice of sorrow, and often inarticulate and
terrible. The heart learns groanings which cannot be uttered, and the voice
fails to tone and tune itself to human speech. When our prayers appear to be
rather animal than spiritual, they none the less prevail with the Father of
mercy.
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