My friends, I know, expect that I shall see yet again.

They think it necessary to the existence of divine truth, that he who once had possession of it should never finally lose it.

I admit the solidity of this reasoning in every case but my own.

And why not in my own?
For causes which to them it appears madness to allege, but which rest upon my mind with a weight of immovable conviction.

If I am recoverable, why am I thus ?--why crippled and made useless in the Church, just at that time of life when, my judgment and experience being matured, I might be most useful ?--why cashiered and turned out of service, till, according to the course of nature, there is not life enough left in me to make amends for the years I have lost,--till there is no reasonable hope left that the fruit can ever pay the expense of the fallow?
I forestall the answer:--God's ways are mysterious, and He giveth no account of His matters--an answer that would serve my purpose as well as theirs to use it.