But the morning came, and the hour drew near for the hands to go to work, and I was still unhappy.
I felt so very different to what I had always felt, that I tried to examine my impressions of the previous night, to learn if it was true that God did see me or not; for I thought my imagination might have deceived me.
Up to this time, I was not fully convinced that God knew all about me.
So I began to study about the matter.

As I sat on the shoe-bench, I picked up a bunch of bristles, and selecting one of the smallest, I began to wonder, if God could see an object so small as that.

No sooner had this inquiry arose in my heart, than it appeared to me, that the Lord could not only see the bristle, but that He beheld me, as plainly as I saw the little object in my hand; and not only so, but that God was then looking through me, just as I would hold up a tumbler of clear water to the sun and look through it.

This was enough.

I felt that I must pray, or perish; and now I began to pray.
But it really seemed, that the more I prayed the less hope there was for me.