"I well remember," said the son of a Christian missionary, "hearing
my mother speak in touching terms of the narrow escapes my father
had during our sojourn in Jamaica. He endured five attacks of yellow
fever, and on one occasion suffered so much that the medical attendant
gave up all hopes of his recovery. For sometime he lingered in a state
of insensibility hardly to be described. My mother watched and wept;
friends did the same; the faithful Christian colored people also wept
as they saw life ebbing away. Death seemed just about to seize his
prey.
"Prayer-meetings were held, and at last some hundreds of negroes were
assembled, earnestly beseeching Almighty God with tears to spare the
life of their beloved missionary. Often had he stood up before judges
in their defence. Often had he been cast into prison for protecting
them from their tyrannical oppressors; and now, with a warmth of
affection and intensity of feeling unknown amongst Christians in
England, they cried mightily to God. Hour after hour passed by;
messengers were passing from the chapel to the mission-house to obtain
tidings of the sick man. At length, when his spirit appeared about
to depart and to leave all earthly scenes, the pious negroes agreed
to unite _silently_ in one heartfelt petition to Him 'in whose hand
our breath is;' and believing that 'man doth not live by bread only,
but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord,' they
thus silently, unitedly prayed. The multitude joined in one petition,
ascending from their inmost souls; and at that very hour the shadow of
death was removed at the rebuke of the Lord!
"A change took place, signs of health appeared, and he for whom so
many supplicants prayed was raised up from his bed of languishing, and
that chapel did indeed become filled with songs of joy, praise, and
thanksgiving. 'He lives! he lives!' was the joyful exclamation that ran
from one to another through that congregation."