Mr. Martyn was ordained to the ministry on the 22d of October, 1803.
He complained to a friend that “this occasion, so solemn in itself,
through want of retirement, was not so to me.”
He passed the time, which, by the rules of the English Episcopal
church, is required before ministers can be admitted to the full
exercise of the sacred office, as assistant to his friend, the Rev.
Mr. Simeon, in his church at Cambridge, and as pastor in a small
village at a short distance from the town. In this capacity he
laboured constantly in preaching, and in making religious visits to
the houses of the poor, and to hospitals.
After speaking of his preparations for the pulpit, he says, “Another
part of my stated ministrations, is to visit one part of Mr. Simeon’s
people every week. Unless the mind be in a spiritual and heavenly
frame, it is difficult to go through this service with any degree
of satisfaction. However, though I have often gone to them cramped
with sinful fear, I have been enabled to go through with ease and
comfort, thanks be to God. I have been generally in great depression
of spirits ever since my ordination; for, having at that time not a
single sermon, my hands and head have been constantly employed in
that business, while my heart has not had its due share of exercise.
I am now recovering from my cowardly despondency on that head; but
lately I have been in heaviness again, through the prevalence of
self-will, and the prospect of incessant self-denial. God help me
to endure hardness, as a good soldier of Christ Jesus; to fight the
good fight of faith; and to be a partaker of the afflictions of
the Gospel, according to the power of God. My chief comfort is to
meditate on the world to come, though it is a happiness which I can
seldom steadily enjoy, the train of one’s thoughts is so influenced
and directed by the empty concerns of human life. Another evil with
me is great childish levity, and want of serious conviction of the
awful work of the ministry. In the pulpit I have hitherto been
thinking only of the sermon before me, unconscious of the presence of
God or the people. Deliver me from blood-guiltiness, O God!”
During this interval, the estate which his sister and himself
inherited from their father, was lost; and instead of being able to
go out as a missionary, at his own expense, as appears to have been
his original design, he now sought an appointment as a chaplain of
the East India Company, to be employed at some of their stations;
which he thought would give him great advantages in preaching to the
heathen. We copy here another of his letters:
“I am glad to hear that the Gospel spreads among you, for the sake
of my poor fellow-sinners. O that I had the glory of Christ more at
heart! Most of us have far too little earnestness; and I for one.
Wall’s Lane is in my parish here. Its well known character will
give you to understand that I have abundant room for the exercise
of zeal. I have as yet visited only the two alms-houses and the
poor-house, in which I meet the people once a week, and two or three
other houses. To cleanse these stables of Augeas, I may well be
taught a useful lesson from the fabled hero—not to attempt the work
in my own strength, but to turn the river of grace into it. In my
country parish, religion is at a low ebb. The school, however, is
re-established; and the benefit of it will, I trust, be of eternal
consequence. With respect to my own heart, my dear friend, what shall
I say? I have been visited, of late, with some very severe trials;
of which the loss of the fortunes of myself and two sisters is the
_least_. As often as the pride and arrogance of my heart are brought
down into the dust, and I am able to walk softly before the Lord, I
am peaceful and happy enough. My present desire is to walk _alone_
with God. I have lived too much in public; going to God in prayer
as if I were coming out of a crowd, and about to be tossed into it
again. But to walk with God is surely to be with him always; to
preach as one delivering the message in his presence; to plead with
souls as in the stead of the invisible God near us. Ah, my brother,
we die _alone_. If we have not lived in solitary communion with
God, we shall start at finding ourselves, in the solemn silence of
death, about to launch forward where no friends, no ordinances, can
accompany us.”
We cannot help observing, how the impressive thought, contained in
the last sentences, was strikingly and literally exemplified, in the
circumstances of his own decease. He shortly wrote again:
“I am about to alter my plan of preaching to my country congregation.
They have been hearing from me the Gospel, for which they are by no
means prepared: for I have discovered, to my surprise and grief, that
they do not know the difference between sin and duty. It is now my
design to explain to them the Commandments, Sermon on the Mount,
&c.”—“Through the tender mercy of God, I begin to feel a little more
zeal and earnestness than formerly. O, my brother, how great the
honour that in our _office_ at least, we are like to Christ; that,
in this respect, as he was, so are we in this world! May love carry
forward our feet in swift obedience; and may we continue in our work,
with all firmness, and patience, and tenderness for the souls of men!”
Martyn spent much of his time in devotion, and in reading the
scriptures. He committed large portions to memory, that he might
always have a subject for meditation; and whenever he became so
interested in any other book, as to have reason to fear that it was
more pleasing to him than the Bible, he would at once lay it aside;
until, by returning to the sacred volume, his mind was restored to
feel the value and interest of its truths above all others. He was in
the habit of setting apart whole days for secret religious services,
examining his heart, searching the scriptures, and imploring the
mercy and direction of God. And that he might do this with the least
interruption, he was accustomed to abstain from his usual food at
such seasons; as devout men, from very ancient times, have observed
fasts. He thus speaks in his diary of the reasons and effect of these
occasions:
“I felt the need of setting apart a day for the restoration of my
soul by solemn prayer: my views of eternity are becoming dim and
transient. I could live for ever in prayer, if I could always speak
to God. I sought to pause, and to consider what I wanted, and to look
up with fear and faith, and I found the benefit; for my soul was soon
composed to that devout sobriety which I knew by its sweetness to
be its proper frame. I was engaged in prayer in the manner I like,
_deep seriousness_; at the end of it, I felt great fear of forgetting
the presence of God, and of leaving him as soon as I should leave
the posture of devotion. I was led through the mists of unbelief,
and spake to God as one that was true; and rejoiced exceedingly that
he was holy and faithful. I endeavoured to consider myself as being
alone on the earth with him, and that greatly promoted my approach to
his presence. My prayer for a meek and holy sobriety was granted. O
how sweet the dawn of heaven!”
As there was every prospect of succeeding in the application he had
made for an Indian chaplaincy, he began to prepare for his departure,
by taking leave of his friends in Cornwall. This was, of course,
a severe trial. He was to bid farewell to country and friends, to
sisters, and a lady to whom he was still more tenderly attached,
with the prospect of never again seeing them in this world. To a
person of his amiable and domestic disposition, such a separation
was full of distress. Besides, he was going to reside in another,
and far distant continent, in a climate so hot, that it always
weakens, and is often fatal to the constitutions of natives of cooler
countries. The people with whom he expected to live, were uneducated,
poor, vicious, and idolatrous. Having never been instructed in
Christianity, his task would be to overcome, if possible, the
prejudices in favour of their own superstitions, which they and their
ancestors had cherished for centuries; and to persuade them to adopt
a religion which would oblige them to give up their dearest sinful
enjoyments. Ignorant of each other’s language, he would be obliged to
study theirs, although one little known to Europeans, and extremely
difficult to be acquired. These discouragements are mentioned, not
to exalt the praises of Martyn; for had he been a perfect man, they
would have appeared too insignificant to affect him at all, but to
show that God gives strength to those who serve Him, and depend
upon Him, proportionate to their trials and necessities; that his
grace can enable a man to do actions of benevolence, which no other
influence could; and that the sacrifices which Martyn made, are a
proof of the reality of religion, as well as of the sincerity of his
own profession. Let the person who is now reading this page, stop
here, and ask whether he would be willing to leave his parents,
friends, and home to-morrow, and go to live amongst a population of
half-savage people, sixteen thousand miles from his home, and spend
the whole of his life in teaching them to read, and persuading them
to believe the gospel; to be all this time subject to abuse and
ridicule, from most of these people; to be exposed to weak health
and early death, and to do all this, merely and solely because, if
a single one is converted, it would promote the glory of God by
bringing one more soul to acknowledge Him, and make that soul happy
for ever. Let the reader, who has now his eye upon these words,
seriously ask what would induce _him_ or _her_ to do this; and then
think, if you are not willing at once to act thus, what it is that is
wanting in you. You will find that religion is indeed a reality: that
the Bible is indeed true, which declares that God will surely make
willing and able, all who put their trust in Him, to perform whatever
his providence calls them to do. If you profess to be a follower of
Christ and to seek the advancement of his kingdom, are you doing
all you can for this object, or are you waiting for the judgment,
supposing that Christ will acknowledge a professed, but unprofitable
servant?