Feb. 6. This evening the captain invited the sailors to a valedictory
religious service. He spoke to them from the words, “God is love,”
which he judiciously explained in consistency with the other
attributes. He told the men that he never sailed with a crew with whom
he was more pleased. He would be willing to have them all sail with
him again, which he had never before been able to say to a crew. Of
the various groups of laboring men with which I have been connected,
I have never seen among them a greater proportion of faithful men, of
good dispositions, civil behavior, pleasant manners, intelligent, and
fully deserving the encomium of the captain. Some of them were from
Northern European nations, and proverbially there are no better sailors
than they, Danes, Swedes, Norwegians. Some of them were from highly
respectable family circles; for all of them I formed a strong personal
attachment. It is with sorrow that I think of their leaving us, as of
course they will soon after reaching port; for after the manner of
these citizens of the world, they will, the most of them, ship at once
for sea again. Some of them came with us for the round voyage; these
will remain with us; the rest will soon be like the gulf weed which
falls into the many ocean currents. It was gratifying to think that
for nearly four months they have been under christian influences, have
listened to the word of salvation, have joined in christian worship,
have had abundant opportunities to read the Bible, listen to moral
advice and religious instruction. I will record the names of the whole
company.[4]
Feb. 10. The captain called all hands into the forward cabin, and
gave them a Temperance address, warning against the evil men who
drug sailors, ship them on board a vessel just sailing, securing to
themselves the sailor’s advance wages, and thrusting him on board
stupefied, leaving him to come to himself at sea, perhaps bound on a
long voyage, with but a pittance coming to him at the close. It was a
capital lecture, full of anecdotes; it put the sailors in good spirits,
affected them with its kindness, while it impressed them with its good
sense.[5]
As I must be much absorbed on arriving at anchorage, and shall wish to
get my journal and letters into the mail at once, I will finish the
journal now.
In one sense God has kept my eyes from tears; but as it regards tears
of joy, I have never felt like shedding so many. My principal reading,
(I will say again,) for the pleasure to my taste, if I were to mention
no other reason, has been in the Old Testament. I know not why I should
specify the book of Deuteronomy, only it is noticeable in the account
in Matthew of the Saviour’s temptation in the wilderness, it appears
that of his four quotations from the Old Testament prefaced by “It
is written,” thereby foiling the suggestions of Satan, three of them
are in the Book of Deuteronomy. In the Old Testament I have seen and
heard God talking with men, which I have felt more at sea than on land.
Whenever they prayed, there was sure to be an answer, excepting to the
ungrateful, godless Saul. It has deeply moved me to think of God as
always at hand when one prays. This has comforted me on the ocean. When
I have heard the gale at night, or have seen the ocean lashed to fury,
I could not resist the feeling: It is God, not nature; God is doing
something. This has kept down every feeling of fear, for I knew that
the wind could not blow longer nor stronger than he should let it out.
Nor was the ocean more than a little water in the hollow of his hand.
The voyage has made permanent impressions, I trust, upon me, concerning
the personality of God, his intimate knowledge, his personal love, all
having their most perfect expression and seal in the life, and, above
all, in the atoning death of Jesus Christ.
Of course I have had thoughts of home which but for this would have
agitated me. But why should I fear future events, with such experience
as this voyage has given me? How little I had to do about this voyage;
how manifestly it has been the work of God. Not according to my works,
but of his mercy he saves me. Had I done some great service for God, He
could not make me feel his goodness more. Now it is all of grace, not
earned, but for nothing. Far better this than though I felt that it
was of works; for his grace is a better foundation than our deserts.
If he has done so much for me for nothing, I may confidently ask Him
for all that I need. As I told the sailors one Sabbath, God never sells
anything; He never lets a man give him an equivalent; He will receive
as much grateful love as we will give, but nothing in the light of
payment.
Let me never feel on shore that if I were at sea I could have more
vivid impressions of God’s presence. The following lines I wrote to
rebuke this feeling: