Night and day on me she cries; O that I were where Helen lies, On fair Kirkconnell lee! Cursed be the heart that thought the thought, And curst the hand that fired the shot, When in my arms burd Helen dropt, And died to succour me!

So severe was this difficulty, that at length I unawares dropt from Semi-Arianism into pure Arianism, by so distinguishing the Son from the Father, as to admit the idea that the Son of God had actually been non-existent in the interval between death and resurrection: nevertheless, I more and more felt, that to be able to define my own notions on such questions had exceedingly little to do with my spiritual state.