I will no longer shrink from answering your questions.

I _do_ wish to be better than I am.

I pray fervently sometimes to be made so.

I have stings of conscience, visitings of remorse, glimpses of holy, of inexpressible things, which formerly I used to be a stranger to; it may all die away, and I may be in utter midnight, but I implore a merciful Redeemer, that, if this be the dawn of the gospel, it may still brighten to perfect day.

Do not mistake me--do not think I am good; I only wish to be so.