DIFFICULTY OF INCULCATING THE GOSPEL.--DEATH OF HER SON.--FAILURE OF MR.
JUDSON'S HEALTH.--ARRIVAL OF MR. AND MRS. HOUGH AT RANGOON.
In a letter which Mrs. Judson wrote to her sisters in December, 1815,
she says: "Doubtless you expect by this time that some of the Burmans
have embraced the Christian religion, or at least are seriously
inquiring respecting it." "But you cannot imagine how very difficult it
is to give them any idea of the true God and the way of salvation by
Christ, since their present ideas of Deity are so very low." "They have
not the least idea of a Divinity who is eternal, without beginning or
end. All their deities have been through the several grades of
creatures, from a fowl to a God...." "They know of no other atonement
for sin, than offerings to their priests or their pagodas."
She goes on to mention some instances of serious inquiry among the
people, which from time to time had raised their hopes, only to dash
them again by the relapse of the inquirers into indifference; but adds
"These things do not discourage us. It is God alone who can effectually
impress the mind with divine truths; and though seed may lie buried long
in the dust, yet at some future period it may spring up and bear fruit
to the glory of God."
In this letter she gives an account of the recall of the Viceroy from
Rangoon to Ava, the imperial residence, and the consequent confusion of
the people, ten thousand of whom accompanied him to Ava. She regretted
his departure, as both he and his lady had ever treated her with
civility and kindness. The newly appointed Viceroy was a stranger, and
might not be equally kind to them.
She says, "Oh how I long to visit Bradford; to spend a few evenings by
your firesides, in telling you what I have seen and heard. Alas! _we_
have no fireside, no social circle. We are still alone in this miserable
country, surrounded by thousands ignorant of the true God." ... "But we
still feel happy in our employment, and have reason to thank God that he
has brought us here. We do hope to live to see the Scriptures translated
into the Burman language, and a church formed from among these
idolaters."
Her next letter details "with all the pathos of a mother's sorrow," a
new trial to which they were called by Him, who though "clouds and
darkness are about him" yet "doeth all things well."
"_May 7th, 1816._--My dear Parents,--Little did I think when I wrote
you last, that my next letter would be filled with the melancholy
subject upon which I must now write. Death, regardless of our lonely
situation has entered our dwelling, and made one of the happiest of
families wretched. Our little Roger Williams, our only little darling
boy, was three days ago laid in the silent grave. Eight months we
enjoyed the precious little gift, in which time he had so completely
entwined himself around his parents' hearts that his existence seemed
necessary to their own. But God has taught us by affliction, what we
would not learn by mercies--that our hearts are his exclusive property,
and whatever rival intrudes, he will tear it away."
"He was a remarkably pleasant child--never cried except when in pain,
and what we often observed to each other was the most singular, he never
during his little existence manifested the least anger or resentment at
anything. This was not owing to the want of intellect, for his tender
feelings of sensibility were very conspicuous. Whenever I or his father,
passed his cradle without taking him, he would follow us with his eyes
to the door, when they would fill with tears, his countenance so
expressive of grief, though perfectly silent, that it would force us
back to him, which would cause his little heart to be as joyful as it
had before been sorrowful. He would lie hours on a mat by his papa's
study-table, or by the side of his chair on the floor, if he could only
see his face. When we had finished study or the business of the day, it
was our exercise and amusement to carry him round the house or garden,
and though we were alone, we felt not our solitude when he was with
us." ...
Her account of his last sickness and death follows, and she adds: "Thus
died our little Roger:
'Short pain, short grief, dear babe, was thine--
Now joys eternal and divine.'
We buried him in the afternoon of the same day, in a little enclosure,
the other side of the garden. Forty or fifty Burmans and Portuguese
followed with his afflicted parents the last remains to the silent
grave. All the Burmans who were acquainted with us, tried to sympathize
with us and console us under our loss." ... "We do not feel a disposition
to murmur, or inquire of our Sovereign why he has done this. We wish
rather to sit down submissively under the rod and bear the smart, till
the end for which the affliction was sent shall be accomplished. Our
hearts were bound up in this child; we felt he was our earthly all, our
only source of innocent recreation in this heathen land. But God saw it
was necessary to remind us of our error and strip us of our little all.
Oh may it not be in vain that he has done it. May we so improve it that
he will stay his hand and say, 'It is enough.'" A while after this she
writes: "Since worship I have stolen away to a much loved spot, where I
love to sit and pay the tribute of affection to my lost, darling child.
It is a little enclosure of mango-trees, in the centre of which is
erected a small bamboo house, on a rising spot of ground, which looks
down on the new-made grave of our infant boy. Here I now sit, and though
all nature around wears a most delightful, and romantic appearance, yet
my heart is sad, and my tears frequently stop my pen. You, my dear Mrs.
L. who are a mother, may imagine my sensations, but if you have never
lost a first born, an only son, you can never know my pain. Had you even
buried your little boy, you are in a Christian country, surrounded by
friends and relatives, who could soothe your anguish and direct your
attention to other objects. But behold us, solitary and alone, with this
one source of recreation! Yet this is denied us, this must be removed,
to show us that we need no other source of enjoyment but God himself.
"Do not think though I write thus, that I repine at the dealings of
Providence. No! though he slay me yet will I trust in him!... Though I
say with the Prophet, Behold and see if there be any sorrow like unto my
sorrow, yet I would also say, It is of the Lord's mercies that we are
not consumed because his compassions fail not. God is the same when he
afflicts, as when he is merciful, just as worthy of our entire trust and
confidence now, as when he entrusted us with the precious little gift.
There is a bright side even to this heavy affliction."
The following tender and beautiful effusion was written by the Rev. J.
Lawson of the Serampore Mission and presented to Mrs. Judson on this
occasion. As it has not been published in former notices of Mrs. J. we
take pleasure in inserting it here.
"Hush'd be the murmuring thought! Thy will be done
O Arbiter of life and death. I bow
To thy command--I yield the precious gift
So late bestowed; and to the silent grave
Move sorrowing, yet submissive. O sweet babe!
I lay thee down to rest--the cold, cold earth
A pillow for thy little head. Sleep on,
Serene in death. No care shall trouble thee.
All undisturbed thou slumberest; far more still
Than when I lulled thee in my lap, and sooth'd
Thy little sorrows till they ceased....
Then felt thy mother peace; her heart was light
As the sweet sigh that 'scaped thy placid lips,
And joyous as the dimpled smile that played
Across thy countenance.--O I must weep
To think of thee, dear infant, on my knees
Untroubled sleeping. Bending o'er thy form,
I watch'd with eager hope to catch the laugh
First waking from thy sparkling eye, a beam
Lovely to me as the blue light of heaven.
Dimm'd in death's agony, it beams no more!
Oh yet once more I kiss thy marble lips,
Sweet babe I and press with mine thy whitened cheeks.
Farewell, a long farewell!--Yet visit me
In dreams, my darling; though the visioned joy
Wake bitter pangs, still be thou in my thoughts
And I will cherish the dear dream, and think
I still possess thee. Peace, my bursting heart!
O I submit. Again I lay thee down,
Dear relic of a mother's hope. Thy spirit,
Now mingled with cherubic hosts, adores
That grace that ransomed it, and lodg'd it safe
Above the stormy scene."
She then gives an interesting account of a visit paid them by the wife
of the Viceroy, who on hearing of the death of the 'little white child'
as she called him, came to condole with his parents. She was attended by
about two hundred of her officers of state and members of her household,
expressed great sympathy in Mrs. Judson's affliction, and reproached her
for not having sent her word that she might have come to the funeral.
Mrs. Judson says, "I regaled her with tea, sweetmeats, and cakes, with
which she seemed much pleased." She adds, "I sometimes have good
opportunities of communicating religious truths to the women in the
government-house, and hope I shall have an opportunity of conversing
with the wife of the Viceroy herself." ... "Oh that she might become a
real disciple of Jesus!"
In the same melancholy letter she relates another affliction--Mr.
Judson, who had frequently been asked by the natives, 'Where are your
religious books?' had been diligently employed in preparing a Tract in
the Burman language called 'A Summary of Christian Truth;' when his
nervous system, and especially his head became so afflicted, that he was
obliged to lay aside all study, and seriously think of a voyage to
Calcutta as his only means of restoration. But he was prevented from
executing his design by the joyful news that two additional missionaries
were about to join them. Mr. and Mrs. Hough, from America, arrived in
Rangoon in October, 1816; and brought with them as a present from the
Mission at Serampore, a printing press, with a fount of types in the
Burman character than which nothing could have been more acceptable.
Can we wonder that after laboring in loneliness and sorrow three years,
such an event as this should fill their hearts with joy and consolation?
The Burmans are very generally taught to read, though having little that
is attractive in their own literature, and books being scarce and dear,
they could not at the time of which we write, be said to be a reading
people. Still the fact that numbers were able to read, was a strong
encouragement to print tracts and books for them. On the occasion of
printing the tract above-mentioned, and a catechism, Mr. Hough writes
thus:
"These two little tracts are the first printing ever done in Burmah; and
it is a fact grateful to every Christian feeling, that God has reserved
the introduction of this art here, for his own use."