To: My wife, on Her Birthday

In 1723, 20 year-old Jonathan Edwards wrote the following paragraph in the leaf of one of his student books:

“They say there is a young lady in New Haven who is beloved of that Great Being who made and rules the world, and that there are certain seasons in which the Great Being, in some way or other invisible, comes to her and fills her mind with exceeding sweet delight, and that she hardly cares for any thing, except to meditate on him—that she expects after a while to be received up where he is, to be raised up out of the world and caught up into heaven; being assured that he loves her too well to let her remain at a distance from him always. There she is to dwell with him, and to be ravished with his love and delight for ever. Therefore, if you present all the world before her, with the richest of its treasures, she disregards it and care not for it, and us unmindful of any pain or affliction. She has a strange sweetness in her mind, a singular purity in her affections; is most just and conscientious in all her conduct; and you could not persuade her to do anyting wrong or sinful, if you would give her al the world, lest she should offend this Great Being. She is of a wonderful sweetness, calmness and universal benevolence of mind; specially after this great God has manifested himself to her mind. She will sometimes go about from place to place, singing sweetly; and seems to be always full of joy and pleasure; and no one knows for what. She loves to be alone, walking in the fields and groves, and seems to have some one invisible always conversing with her.”

This is how you are to me, my dear, my darling, my love. Happy Birthday!