picture of the last supper

picture of the last supper
had made a mistake in entering the ministry: its uniform duties
wearied me to death. I burnt for the more active life of the world-
for the more exciting toils of a literary career- for the destiny of
an artist, author, orator; anything rather than that of a priest: yes,
the heart of a politician, of a soldier, of a votary of glory, a lover
of renown, a luster after power, beat under my curate's surplice. I
considered; my life was so wretched, it must be changed, or I must
die. After a season of darkness and struggling, light broke and relief
fell: my cramped existence all at once spread out to a plain without
bounds- my powers heard a call from heaven to rise, gather their
picture of the last supper
full strength, spread their wings, and mount beyond ken. God had an
errand for me; to bear which afar, to deliver it well, skill and
strength, courage and eloquence, the best qualifications of soldier,
statesman, and orator, were all needed: for these all centre in the
good missionary.
'A missionary I resolved to be. From that moment my state of mind
changed; the fetters dissolved and dropped from every faculty, leaving
nothing of bondage but its galling soreness- which time only can heal.
My father, indeed, opposed the determination, but since his death, I
picture of the last supper