Wakefield

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  “In some old magazine or newspaper I recollect a story, told as truth, of a man—let us call him Wakefield—who absented himself for a long time from his wife. The fact, thus abstractedly stated, is not very uncommon, nor, without a proper distinction of circumstances, to be condemned either as naughty or nonsensical. Howbeit, this, though far from the most aggravated, is perhaps the strangest instance on record of marital delinquency, and, moreover, as remarkable a freak as may be found in the whole list of human oddities. The wedded couple lived in London. The man, under pretense of going a journey, took lodgings in the next street to his own house, and there, unheard of by his wife or friends and without the shadow of a reason for such self-banishment, dwelt upward of twenty years. During that period he beheld his home every day, and frequently the forlorn Mrs. Wakefield. And after so great a gap in his matrimonial felicity—when his death was reckoned certain, his estate settled...

Confession

To whom may I recount my sins,
with all their pains and woe?
And where shall my detail begin;
And who can stand to know?

My wicked tales in someone's ear--
how can I stain their head?
So how to tell and cast my fear
of sinful guilt and dread?

My own life cannot bear the load
of all that I have done!
How can I take you down my road?
There is none, save but One.

Confession gives the soul all good,
so who should stoop to hear?
'Tis Jesus Christ (thank God alone),
He all my life can bear.

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