Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) was an American poet who wrote mainly of death and immortality. In 1846, Dickinson's letters to her most intimate friend, Abiah Root, spoke with great compassion of her tears at the news of Abiah's readiness to give her life to Christ. Then Emily confided to her friend that, some time before, she too had professed her faith in Christ: "I felt I had found my savior," she wrote. "I never enjoyed such perfect peace and happiness."

What happened then? No scholarship has disclosed specifically how much earlier Dickinson had known this "perfect peace and happiness"—presumably between the age of six and her then-fifteen years. Apparently, like the seed sown upon rocky soil, the experience of joy in salvation did not find sufficient nurture to survive. The feeling of "perfect peace and happiness" did not last.

"I soon forgot my morning prayer or else it was irksome to me," she wrote. "One by one my old habits returned and I cared less for religion than ever." Yet, once having tasted the bliss of forgiveness, a lingering nostalgia remained: "I feel that I shall never be happy [unless] I love Christ."

It appears this was too hard for Dickinson, for one year later, while attending Mt. Holyoke Female Seminary, she wrote the following in a letter: "I am not happy, and I regret that last term, when the golden opportunity was mine, that I did not give up and become a Christian. It is not now too late, so my friends tell me, so my offended conscience whispers, but it is hard for me to give up the world."