her daughter. Other good of myself I know not where to find, except a little charity.
But I am now in my seventieth year; what can be done, ought not to be delayed.
Easter Eve.
April 3, 1779, 11 P. M.
This is the time of my annual review, and annual resolution.
The review is comfortless, little done. Part of
the Life of Dryden and the Life of Milton have been
written; but my mind has neither been improved nor
enlarged. I have read little, almost nothing. And I
am not conscious that I have gained any good, or quitted
any evil habits.
Of resolutions I have made so many, with so little effect, that I am almost weary, but by the help of God, am not yet hopeless. Good resolutions must be made and kept. I am almost seventy years old, and have no time to lose. The distressful restlessness of my nights, makes it difficult to settle the course of my days. Something, however, let me do.
Easter Day.
April 4, 1779.
I rose about half an hour after nine, transcribed the
prayer written last night; and by neglecting to count
time, sat too long at breakfast, so that I came to church
at the First Lesson. I attended the Litany pretty well;
but in the pew could not hear the communion service,
and missed the prayer for the church militant. Before
I went to the altar, I prayed the occasional prayer. At
the altar I commended my [greek alpha omega], and again prayed the
prayer; I then prayed the Collects, and again my own
prayer by memory. I left out a clause. I then received,
I hope with earnestness; and while others received sat
down; but thinking that posture, though usual, improper,
I rose and stood. I prayed again, in the pew,
but with what prayer I have forgotten.
