1 I then sat down: I felt weak and tired.
2 I was weakly dismayed at the ignorance, the poverty, the coarseness of all I heard and saw round me.
3 I would as soon have been charged with a pauper brat out of a workhouse: but he was weak, naturally weak.
4 He moaned so, and looked so weak, wild, and lost, I feared he was dying; and I might not even speak to him.
5 It is the Rock of Ages I ask you to lean on: do not doubt but it will bear the weight of your human weakness.
6 Meantime, watch and pray that you enter not into temptation: the spirit, I trust, is willing, but the flesh, I see, is weak.
7 A weakness, beginning inwardly, extending to the limbs, seized me, and I fell: I lay on the ground some minutes, pressing my face to the wet turf.
8 I felt physically weak and broken down: but my worse ailment was an unutterable wretchedness of mind: a wretchedness which kept drawing from me silent tears; no sooner had I wiped one salt drop from my cheek than another followed.
9 I wrestled with my own resolution: I wanted to be weak that I might avoid the awful passage of further suffering I saw laid out for me; and Conscience, turned tyrant, held Passion by the throat, told her tauntingly, she had yet but dipped her dainty foot in the slough, and swore that with that arm of iron he would thrust her down to unsounded depths of agony.