Sept. 1 8, 1768, at night.
Townmalling, in Kent.

I have now begun the sixtieth year of my life. How the last
year has past I am unwilling to terrify myself with thinking.
This day has been past in great perturbation, I was distracted at
church in an uncommon degree, and my distress has had very
little intermission. I have found myself somewhat relieved by
reading, which I therefore intend to practise when I am able.
This day it came into my mind to write the history of my
melancholy. On this I purpose to deliberate. I know not
whether it may not too much disturb me.
I this day read a great part of Pascal's Life . 
0 Lord, who hast safely brought me,
Almighty and most merciful Father, Creator and Preserver of
mankind, look down with pity upon my troubles and maladies.
Heal my body, strengthen my mind, compose my distraction,
calm my inquietude, and relieve my terrours, that if it please
thee, I may run the race that is set before me 
with peace, patience, constancy and confidence. Grant this O Lord, and
take not from me thy Holy Spirit, but pardon and bless me, 
for the sake of Jesus Christ our Lord.