Title: Life of Henry Martyn, Missionary to India and Persia, 1781 to 1812
Author: Rhea, Sarah J.
Language: English
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MISSIONARY ANNALS.
(A SERIES.)



LIFE OF HENRY MARTYN, MISSIONARY TO INDIA AND PERSIA, 1781 to 1812


ABRIDGED FROM THE MEMOIR.
BY
MRS. SARAH J. RHEA.



CHICAGO:
WOMAN'S PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF FOREIGN MISSIONS OF THE NORTHWEST,
Room 48, McCormick Block.



COPYRIGHT, 1888,
BY WOMAN'S PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF MISSIONS OF THE NORTHWEST.



CONTENTS.

                                              PAGE.
EDUCATION AND PREPARATION, . . . . . . . . . . .  5

LIFE IN INDIA, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13

LIFE IN PERSIA, AND DEATH, . . . . . . . . . . . 29



I hold in my hand an album adorned with pictures of missionaries, my
brethren and sisters, the ambassadors of the King. On one of the first
pages is "the tomb of Henry Martyn," given me by Dr. Van Lennep, who
had just visited the sacred spot and described it vividly. When I turn
the pages of my album and come to this, I pause with reverence and the
overflowings of deep and tender emotion, and my mind adds other
pictures, both terrestrial and celestial, to the one upon the page. My
own missionary life as the companion of him whom Dr. Perkins called
"the later Henry Martyn," was spent in Henry Martyn's Persia. They
were alike I think in many things, these two Persian evangelists, and
also in their deaths. When they passed out of the Tabriz gate,
journeying homeward after a course of illness in the fated city, for
each it was a quick ascent, a painful translation, to the heavenly
city with abundant entrance and the Master's "well done"--in heaven;
and on earth, a foreign grave taking possession for Christ, as the
Nestorians reverently say, with "white stones still speaking out."
                                                          S. J. R.



EDUCATION AND PREPARATION.


Henry Martyn was born in England on the south-western coast of Truro,
February 18, 1781. His father, Mr. John Martyn, worked in the mines.
He was not educated but was very fond of learning. The miners were in
the habit of working and resting alternately every four hours. Mr.
John Martyn spent many of his rest intervals in study, and so by
diligence and education raised himself to a higher position, and
became a clerk in the office of a merchant in Truro. When Henry was
seven years old, he went to school to Dr. Cardew. From his earliest
years all who knew him considered him a very interesting and promising
child. Dr. Cardew says his proficiency in the classics exceeded that
of his schoolfellows; he was of a lively, cheerful temper and seemed
to learn without application, almost by intuition. But he was not
robust, and loving books better than sport, and having a peculiar
tenderness and inoffensiveness of spirit, he was often abused by rude
and coarse boys in the school. A friendship which he formed at this
time with a boy older than himself was the source of great comfort and
advantage to him, and was kept up throughout his whole life. This
friend often protected him from the bullies of the play-ground. At
this school, under excellent tuition, Henry remained until fourteen
years old, when he was induced to offer himself as a candidate for a
vacant scholarship at Corpus Christi College, Oxford. Young as he was,
he went there alone, and acquitted himself so well, though strongly
and ably opposed by competitors, that in the opinion of some of the
examiners he ought to have been elected. How often is the hand of God
seen in frustrating our fondest designs! Speaking of this
disappointment he afterwards wrote: "Had I remained and become a
member of the university at that time, as I should have done in case
of success, the profligate acquaintances I had there would have
introduced me to scenes of debauchery, in which I must in all
probability, from my extreme youth, have sunk forever."

He continued after this with Dr Cardew till 1797, and then joined his
school friend at Cambridge at St. John's College. Here he obtained a
place in the first class at the public examination in December, a
circumstance which, joined to the extreme desire he had to gratify his
father, encouraged and excited him to study with increased alacrity,
and as the fruit of this application, at the next public examination
in the summer he reached the second station in the first class, a
point of elevation which "flattered his pride not a little." At this
time he appeared in the eye of the world most amiable and commendable,
outwardly moral, unwearied in application, and exhibited marks of no
ordinary talent. One exception to this statement is to be found in an
irritability of temper arising perhaps from the treatment he had
received at school. On one occasion in sudden anger, he threw a knife
at the head of another boy, which providentially missed him and was
left trembling in the wall; but it was a narrow escape, and might have
proved fatal. Though not a Christian at this time, he was under two
strong influences for good, one from his religious friend in college,
the other from his sister in Cornwall, a Christian of a meek, heavenly
and affectionate spirit. He paid a visit to his home in the summer of
1799, carrying with him no small degree of academical honor. It may be
well supposed that to a sister such as we have described, her
brother's spiritual welfare would be a most serious and anxious
concern; and that she often conversed with him on the subject of
religion we know from his own declaration. The first result of her
tender exhortations and earnest endeavors was very discouraging; a
violent conflict took place in her brother's mind between his
conviction of the truth of what she urged, and his love of the world;
and for the present, the latter prevailed. Yet, sisters similarly
circumstanced may learn from this case, not merely their duty, but
also, from the final result, the success they may anticipate in the
faithful discharge of it.

"At the examination at Christmas, 1799," he writes: "I was first, and
the account of it pleased my father prodigiously, who, I was told, was
in great health and spirits. What, then, was my consternation when in
January I received an account of his death!" Most poignant were his
sufferings under this affliction, which led him to God for comfort in
prayer and Bible study. He says: "I began with the Acts, and found
myself insensibly led to inquire more attentively into the doctrines
of the Apostles." Writing to his sister, having announced shortly and
with much simplicity that his name stood first upon the list at the
college examination of the summer of 1800, he says: "What a blessing
it is for me that I have such a sister as you, my dear S., who have
been so instrumental in keeping me in the right way. After the death
of our father you know I was extremely low spirited, and like most
other people began to consider seriously without any particular
determination, that invisible world to which he was gone and to which
I must one day go. Soon I began to attend more diligently to the words
of our Savior in the New Testament, and to devour them with delight,
when the offers of mercy and forgiveness were made so freely; I
supplicated to be made partaker of the covenant of grace with
eagerness and hope, and thanks be to the ever-blessed Trinity for not
leaving me without comfort!" How cheering to his sister it must have
been to receive at a moment of deep sorrow such a communication as
this! How salutary to his own mind to have possessed so near a
relation to whom he could thus freely open the workings of his heart.
At this time he also received great benefit from attendance on the
faithful ministry of Rev. Charles Simeon, under whose pastoral
instructions he himself declares that he "gradually acquired more
knowledge in divine things." With this excellent man he had the most
friendly and unreserved intercourse. Mr. Martyn received his first
impressions of the transcendent excellence of the Christian ministry
of Mr. Simeon, from which it was but a short step to choose this
calling for his own, for until now he had intended to devote himself
to the law "chiefly," he confesses, "because he could not consent to
be poor for Christ's sake."

In January, 1801, the highest academical honor, that of "senior
wrangler," was awarded to him before the completion of his twentieth
year. His description of his feelings on this occasion is remarkable:
"I obtained my highest wishes, but was surprised to find that I had
grasped a shadow." So impossible it is for earthly distinction to fill
and satisfy the mind.

In March, 1802, after another rigid examination, Mr. Martyn was chosen
Fellow of St. Johns, a situation honorable to the society and
gratifying to himself. Soon after he obtained first prize for best
Latin prose composition over many competitors of classical celebrity,
and this was the more remarkable, as his studies had been almost
entirely in mathematics.

Henry Martyn's attention was called to the great cause of Foreign
Missions by some remarks of Rev. Mr. Simeon on the work of Carey in
India, but more particularly by reading the memoir of David Brainerd,
who preached with apostolic zeal and success to the North American
Indians, and who finished a course of self-denying labors for his
Redeemer with unspeakable joy at the early age of thirty-two. Henry
Martyn's soul was filled with holy emulation, and after deep
consideration and fervent prayer he was at length fixed in a
resolution to imitate his example. Nor let it be conceived that he
could adopt this resolution without the severest conflict in his mind,
for he was endued with the truest sensibility of heart, and was
susceptible of the warmest and tenderest attachments. No one could
exceed him in love for his country, or in affection for his friends,
and few could surpass him in an exquisite relish for the various and
refined enjoyments of a social and literary life. How then could it
fail of being a moment of extreme anguish when he came to the
deliberate resolution of leaving forever all he held dear upon earth?
But he was fully satisfied that the glory of that Savior who loved him
and gave Himself for him would be promoted by his going forth to
preach to the heathen. He considered their pitiable and perilous
condition; he thought on the value of their immortal souls; he
remembered the last solemn injunction of his Lord, "Go teach all
nations,"--an injunction never revoked, and commensurate with that
most encouraging promise, "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end
of the world." Actuated by these motives, he offered himself as a
missionary to the society for Missions, and from that time stood
prepared with childlike simplicity and unshaken constancy to go to any
part of the world whither it might be deemed expedient to send him.

In the early part of 1804, Mr. Martyn's plans of becoming a missionary
were dampened by the loss of his slender patrimony, and as his sister
was also involved in the calamity, it appeared hardly justifiable for
him to go away. After some delay his friends obtained for him the
position of chaplain to the East India Company, and so the obstacles
which detained him were removed.

The time of the delay was spent in zealous service for his divine
Master. He was associated with Rev. Mr. Simeon as curate and preached
with great zeal and unction, often to very large audiences, and
sometimes with such unsparing denunciation of common sins as to awaken
opposition. He considered it his duty to rebuke iniquity, and on one
occasion severely reproved a student for shocking levity,--reading a
play with some young ladies while their father lay dying. He feared
the result of this might be estrangement from his friend, but prayed
earnestly that it might lead to his awakening. This prayer was
answered, and afterwards this very friend became his beloved associate
in missionary work in India.

In very early youth Mr. Martyn became fondly attached to a young lady
named Lydia Grenfell. She considered herself his superior in social
position. The memoirs all speak of her as estimable, and we infer from
the little that is said that she somewhat indifferently accepted Henry
Martyn's homage, but she did not wholeheartedly and generously
respond. What a contrast to the beloved and devoted Harriet Newell,
who was not afraid to risk all for Christ, and counted not her life
dear even unto the death! It was Miss Grenfell's greatest honor that
Henry Martyn would have made her his wife, but she declined the honor,
and yet gave him encouragement, for their correspondence only ended
with his life, and his very last writing was a letter to her. He
begged her with all the eloquence of a lonely and devoted heart to
come out to him after he had gone to India, arranging every detail for
her comfort with thoughtful tenderness, and urging and encouraging her
and lavishing upon her an affection that would have crowned and
enriched her life. We are left to infer from the history that she did
love him in her way, but if she had shared his consecration and gone
with him and taken care of him, and cheered and comforted him, and
made for him a happy restful home, as some missionary wives have done
in self-denying foreign fields, what a blessing she might have been,
and her life, how fruitful, and her memory, how fragrant! As it was,
she has this distinction, that she was Henry Martyn's disappointment
and trial and discipline. No one less tender and sensitive than Henry
Martyn can appreciate all he suffered on this account; but he made it,
like all the other great sorrows of his life, a cross on which to be
crucified with Christ.

He writes to his dear sister S.: "When I sometimes offer up
supplications with strong crying to God to bring down my spirit into
the dust I endeavor calmly to contemplate the infinite majesty of the
most high God and my own meanness and wickedness, or else I quietly
tell the Lord, who knows the heart, I would give Him all the glory of
everything if I could. But the most effectual way I have ever found is
to lead away my thoughts from myself and my own concerns by praying
for all my friends, for the church, the world, the nation, and
especially by beseeching that God would glorify His own great name by
converting all nations to the obedience of faith, also by praying that
he would put more abundant honor on those Christians whom he seems to
have honored especially, and whom we see to be manifestly our
superiors."

In spite of Henry Martyn's beautiful humility, honor after honor was
heaped upon him by his admiring and appreciative Alma Mater. Three
times he was chosen examiner, and discharged the duties of this office
with great care and faithfulness.

As the time approaches for his parting from all he holds dear,
especially the beloved L., our hearts go out to him in irrepressible
sympathy. He writes, "parted with L. forever in this life with a sort
of uncertain pain which I know will increase to greater violence."

And these forebodings were but too soon realized. For many succeeding
days his mental agony was extreme, yet he could speak to God as one
who knew the great conflict within him. Yet while the waves and
billows are going over him he writes from these depths, "I never had
so clear a conviction of my call as at the present. Never did I see so
much the exceeding excellency and glory and sweetness of the work, nor
had so much the favorable testimony of my own conscience, nor
perceived so plainly the smile of God. Blessed be God, I feel myself
to be His minister. This thought which I can hardly describe came in
the morning after reading Brainerd. I wish for no service but the
service of God, to labor for souls on earth and to do His will in
heaven."



LIFE IN INDIA.


On the 17th of July, 1805, the Union East Indiaman conveying Mr.
Martyn sailed from Portsmouth. Mr. Martyn says: "Though it was what I
had been anxiously looking forward to so long, yet the consideration
of being parted forever from my friends, almost overcame me. My
feelings were those of a man who should suddenly be told that every
friend he had in the world was dead."

Though suffering much in mind and body throughout the long and tedious
voyage of nine months, Mr. Martyn seeks no selfish ease. He preaches,
reads and labors assiduously with officers, passengers and crew, and
shuns not to declare the whole counsel of God, even the unpalatable
doctrine of the future punishment of the wicked. He says: "The threats
and opposition of these men made me willing to set before them the
truths they hated, yet I had no species of hesitation about doing it.
They said they would not come if so much hell was preached, but I took
for my text, 'The wicked shall be turned into hell and all the nations
that forget God.' The officers were all behind my back in order to
have an opportunity of retiring in case of dislike. H., as soon as he
heard the text, went back and said he would hear no more about hell;
so he employed himself in feeding the geese. However, God I trust
blessed the sermon to the good of many; some of the cadets and many of
the soldiers were in tears. I felt an ardor and vehemence in some
parts which are unusual with me. After service walked the deck with
Mrs. ----; she spoke with so much simplicity and amiable humility that
I was full of joy and admiration to God for a sheep brought home to
His fold. In the afternoon went below intending to read to them at the
hatchway, but there was not one of them, so I could get nothing to do
among the poor soldiers."

What a picture revealing Henry Martyn's character!--the contrasting
attributes of sternness and gentleness, his martyrlike determination
to do his whole duty at any cost to himself from suffering and insult,
the keen shrinking of a nature so refined and sensitive from
coarseness and abuse, undeviating yet uncompromising, bringing to our
thoughts the Divine Exemplar. I pass by the incidents of the voyage,
including mutiny, sickness and death, romantic stay at St. Salvador,
battles at the Cape of Good Hope, etc., eloquently and vividly
recorded.

The Friday preceding his arrival in India he spends "in praying that
God would no longer delay exerting his power in the conversion of the
eastern nations. I felt emboldened" he says, "to employ the most
familiar petitions by Is. xii. 6, 7, 'Keep not silence; give him no
rest,' etc. Blessed be God for those words! They are like a cordial to
my spirits, because if the Lord is not pleased by me or during my
lifetime to call the Gentiles, yet He is not offended at my being
urgent with Him that the kingdom of God may come."

April 21, 1806, the nine months' journey is complete, and they land at
Madras. Mr. Martyn gives first impressions and description of the
natives, ending in these words: "In general, one thought naturally
occurred: the conversion of their poor souls. I am willing, I trust,
through grace, to pass my life among them if by any means these poor
people may be brought to God. The sight of men, women and children,
all idolaters, makes me shudder as if in the dominions of the prince
of darkness. Hearing the hymn, 'Before Jehovah's awful throne,' it
excited a train of affecting thoughts in my mind."

"Wide as the world is thy command. Therefore it is easy for Thee to
spread abroad Thy holy name. But oh, how gross the darkness here! The
veil of the covering cast over all nations seems thicker here; the
friends of darkness seem to sit in sullen repose in this land. What
surprises me is the change of views I have here from what I had in
England. There my heart expanded with hope and joy at the prospect of
the speedy conversion of the heathen; but here the sight of the
apparent impossibility requires a strong faith to support the
spirits." Ah, how vividly this describes missionary experiences! After
great peril from storm and illness, passing up the Hoogly from Madras,
Mr. Martyn arrived at Calcutta, May 14. In this city for years had
been a band of English Christians faithfully praying for the coming of
the kingdom in that dark land, and into the home of one of these, Rev.
David Brown, was Mr. Martyn received with much affection. A pagoda in
one end of the yard on the river bank was fitted up for him, and the
place where once devils were worshiped now became a Christian oratory.
The first experience here was of severe illness from acclimating
fever, from which he was kindly nursed into convalescence. He then
applied himself earnestly to the study of the Hindoostanee, having
engaged a Brahmin as a teacher. Here he witnessed with horror the
cruel and debasing rites of heathenism. The blaze of a funeral pile
caused him one day to hasten to the rescue of a burning widow who was
consumed before his eyes. And in a dark wood he heard the sound of
cymbals and drums calling the poor natives to the worship of devils,
and saw them prostrate with their foreheads to the ground before a
black image in a pagoda surrounded with burning lights--a sight which
he contemplated with overwhelming compassion, "shivering as if
standing in the neighborhood of hell."

Mr. Martyn's plain and pungent preaching was a great offense to some
of the easy-going formalists of the English church at Calcutta, and
some of the ministry attacked him bitterly from their pulpits,
declaring, for instance, that to affirm repentance to be the gift of
God and to teach that nature is wholly corrupt, is to drive men to
despair, and that to suppose the righteousness of Christ sufficient to
justify is to make it unnecessary to have any of our own. Though
compelled to listen to such downright heresies, to hear himself
described as knowing neither what he said nor whereof he affirmed, and
as aiming only to gratify self sufficiency, pride and
uncharitableness,--"I rejoiced," said this meek and holy man, "to
receive the Lord's supper afterwards;--as the solemnities of that
blessed ordinance sweetly tended to soothe any asperity of mind, and I
think that I administered the cup to ---- and ---- with sincere good
will."

September 13, 1806, Mr. Martyn received his appointment to Singapore.
A farewell meeting of great interest was held in his pagoda, followed
by a tender parting from the family who had been so kind to him, and
two fellow laborers who, following his bright example, had just come
out from England. The voyage to Singapore was performed in a budgero,
a small boat with a cabin, in which he studied and translated and
prayed while making the seventeen or eighteen miles a day of the
six-weeks' journey. At night the boat was fastened to the shore. His
journal record of these days is very interesting and very
characteristic. He says:

"October 27. Arrived at Berhampore. In the evening walked out to the
hospital in which there were 150 European soldiers sick. I was talking
to a man said to be dying, when a surgeon entered. I went up and made
some apology for entering the hospital. It was my old school-fellow
and townsman, ----. The remainder of the evening he spent with me in
my budgero.

"October 28. Rose very early and was at the hospital at daylight.
Waited there a long time wandering up and down the wards in hopes of
inducing the men to get up and assemble, but it was in vain. I left
three books with them and went away amidst the sneers and titters of
the common soldiers. Certainly it is one of the greatest crosses I am
called to bear to take pains to make people hear me. It is such a
struggle between a sense of propriety and modesty on the one hand, and
a sense of duty on the other, that I find nothing equal to it. I could
force my way anywhere, in order to introduce a brother minister; but
for myself, I act with hesitation and pain.

"Walking out into a village where the boat stopped for the night I
found the worshipers of Kali by the sound of their drums and cymbals.
Invited by the Brahmins to walk in I entered and asked a few questions
about the idol. The Brahmin who spoke bad Hindoostanee disputed with
great heat, and his tongue ran faster than I could follow, and the
people, about one hundred, shouted applause. I continued my questions
and among other things asked if what I had heard of Vishnu and Brahma
was true, which he confessed. I forbore to press him with the
consequences, which he seemed to feel; and then I told him what was my
belief. The man grew quite mild and said it was _chula bat_ (good
words), and asked me seriously at last what I thought, 'Was idol
worship true or false?' I felt it a matter of thankfulness that I
could make known the truth of God though a stammerer and that I had
declared it in the presence of the devil. And this also I learnt, that
the power of gentleness is irresistible. I never was more astonished
than at the change in deportment of this hot-headed Brahmin.... Came
to on the eastern bank below a village called Ahgadup. Wherever I
walked the women fled at the sight of me. Some men were sitting under
the shed dedicated to their goddess; a lamp was burning in her place.
A conversation soon began, but there was no one who could speak
Hindoostanee. I could only speak by the medium of my Mussulman,
Musalchee. They said that they only did as others did, and that if
they were wrong then all Bengal was wrong. I felt love for their
souls, and longed for utterance to declare unto these poor simple
people the holy gospel. I think that when my mouth is opened I shall
preach to them day and night.

"October 31. My Moonshee said, 'How can you prove this book (the
gospel), to be the word of God?' I took him to walk with me on the
shore that we might discuss the matter, and the result of our
conversation was that I discovered that the Mussulmen allow the gospel
to be in general the command of God, though the words of it are not
His as the words of the Koran are, and contend that the actual words
of God given to Jesus were burnt by the Jews; that they also admit the
New Testament to have been in force till the coming of Mohammed. When
I quoted some passages which proved the Christian dispensation to be
the final one, he allowed it to be inconsistent with the divinity of
the Koran, but said, 'Then those words of the gospel must be false.'
The man argued and asked his questions seemingly in earnest, and
another new impression was left upon my mind, namely, that these men
are not fools and that all ingenuity and clearness of reasoning are
not confined to England and Europe. I seem to feel that these
descendants of Ham are as dear to God as the haughty sons of Japheth;
I feel, too, more at home with the Scriptures than ever; everything I
see gives light to, and receives it from, the Scriptures. I seem
transported back to the ancient times of the Israelites and the
Apostles. My spirit felt composed after the dispute by simply looking
to God as one who had engaged to support His own cause; and I saw it
to be my part to pursue my way through the wilderness of this world,
looking only to that redemption which daily draweth nigh. How should
this consideration quell the tumult of anger and impatience when I
cannot convince men 'the government is on His shoulders?' Jesus is
able to bear the weight of it; therefore we need not be oppressed with
care or fear, but a missionary is apt to fancy himself an Atlas.

"November 2. Walking on shore met a large party. I asked if any of
them could read. One young man who seemed superior in rank to the
rest, said he could, and accordingly read some of the only Nagree
tract that I had. I then addressed myself boldly to them and told them
of the gospel. When speaking of the inefficacy of the religious
practices of the Hindoos I mentioned as an example the repetition of
the name of Ram. The young man assented to this and said, 'of what use
is it?' As he seemed to be of a pensive turn and said this with marks
of disgust, I gave him a Nagree Testament, the first I have given. May
God's blessing go along with it and cause the eyes of the multitudes
to be opened. The men said they should be glad to receive tracts, so I
sent them back a considerable number. The idea of printing the
parables in proper order with a short explanation to each, for the
purpose of distribution and as school books, suggested itself to me
to-night and delighted me prodigiously.... A Mussulman, when he
received one of the tracts and found what it was, was greatly alarmed,
and after many awkward apologies, returned it, saying that 'a man who
had his legs in two different boats, was in danger of sinking between
them.'"

Established at Singapore, Mr. Martyn began upon three different lines
of work, establishing schools, attaining readiness in Hindoostanee so
as to preach the gospel in that language, and translating the
Scriptures and religious books. To his great discouragement he was
informed by the Pundit that every four miles the language changed, so
that a book in the dialect of one district would be unintelligible to
the people of another. Being advised to learn Sanscrit, he took up
this language with great zeal. The commencement of Mr. Martyn's
ministry amongst the Europeans of Singapore was not of such a kind as
to either gratify or encourage him. At first he read prayers to the
soldiers at the barracks from the drumhead, and as there were no seats
provided, was desired to omit the sermon. Afterwards more decent
arrangements being made, the families came in; but taking offense at
his evangelical plainness, they asked that he should desist from
extempore preaching. These European members of his flock were jealous
and angry at his constant efforts for the salvation of the heathen
natives. They thought it much beneath the dignity of an English
chaplain to care for these degraded souls. Some of Mr. Martyn's duties
as chaplain were exceedingly onerous. On several occasions he was
summoned to distant places involving long and dangerous journeys to
perform a marriage ceremony. On these journeys he suffered severely,
and they were a great draft upon his very delicate health; always weak
and languid, and often alarmingly disordered. Yet through all he
continued to labor incessantly. Every Sabbath he held at least four
services: at 7 for Europeans; at 2 for Hindoos, about two hundred in
attendance; in the afternoon at the hospital; in the evening in his
own room for the soldiers. In his household were two natives who
assisted in his studies and translations, the Moonshee and the Pundit,
with whom he held long disputes and with whom he labored daily, though
unsuccessfully, to bring them to faith in Christ. He says,
"translating the epistle of St. John with the Moonshee, I asked him
what he thought of those passages which so strongly express the
doctrines of the Trinity and of the divinity of Christ. He said he
never would believe it, because the Koran declared it sinful to say
that God had any Son. I told him that he ought to pray that God would
teach him what the truth really is. He said he had no occasion on this
subject, as the word of God was express. I asked him whether some
doubt ought not to arise in his mind whether the Koran is the word of
God. He grew angry, and I felt hurt and vexed. I should have done
better to have left the words of the chapter with him without saying
anything. I went also too far with the Pundit in arguing against his
superstition, for he also grew angry." If any qualification seems
necessary to a missionary in India it is wisdom--operating in the
regulation of the temper and the due improvement of opportunities. Mr.
Martyn needed the heavenly gift of wisdom also in the management of
his native schools, five or six of which were supported by himself in
Singapore. Little by little he succeeded in introducing as a text-book
a part of the Bible--his own translation of the sermon on the Mount
and the Parables. He was called to do more and more of this work of
translating the Scriptures, and was persuaded by the Rev. David Brown
not only to continue the Hindoostanee, but to superintend the
translation of the Scriptures into Persian. He engaged in it at once
with zeal. He writes: "The time fled imperceptibly while so
delightfully engaged in the translations; the days seemed to have
passed like a moment. What do I not owe to the Lord for permitting me
to take part in a translation of His word? Never did I see such wonder
and wisdom and love in the blessed Book as since I have been obliged
to study every expression. Employed a good while at night in
considering a difficult passage, and being much enlightened respecting
it, I went to bed full of astonishment at the wonder of God's Word.
Never before did I see anything of the beauty of the language and the
importance of the thoughts as I do now. What a source of perpetual
delight have I in the precious Word of God!"

This ecstasy of enthusiasm in most successful and congenial labor was
suddenly dashed by a great wave of sorrow which came to Mr. Martyn in
the news of the death of his eldest sister. To missionaries in foreign
lands such news is especially bitter, and to recover from such a shock
and sense of irreparable loss seems almost impossible. The mind,
unsatisfied with details of the sad event, is left in shadow which
deepens into heavy gloom. Mr. Martyn was all alone and felt it keenly
and inexpressibly. Some of his most intimate and sympathetic friends
at this time, realizing how it was not good for him to be alone,
encouraged him to renew his matrimonial offer to his ever beloved L.
After her refusal he says, "The Lord sanctify this, and since this
last desire of my heart is also withheld may I turn away forever from
the world and henceforth live forgetful of all but God. With Thee, O
my God, is no disappointment. I shall never have to regret that I have
loved Thee too well. Thou hast said, 'delight thyself in the Lord, and
he shall give thee the desires of thy heart.'"

Could sweeter words than these be expressed in any language! Could
greater depths of submission or heights of consecration be attained!
They deserve to be recorded on imperishable marble or blazoned on the
sky in sight of all, and received as the confession of every Christian
heart, to the honor and praise of Him who gave such glorious victory
to this tried soldier of the cross.

Providentially for Mr. Martyn's comfort his thoughts were much
occupied after this by the arrival of his coadjutors in the work of
translation, one of these, Mirza of Benares, well known in India as an
eminent Hindoostanee scholar; the other Sabat the Arabian, since but
too well known both in India and England by his rejection of that
faith which he then appeared to profess in sincerity and faith. In the
latter of these Mr. Martyn confidently trusted that he had found a
Christian brother with respect to the reality of his belief in
Christianity, although Mr. Martyn immediately discovered in him an
unsubdued Arab spirit, and witnessed with pain many deflections from
that temper and conduct which he himself so eminently exemplified;
yet, he could not but "believe all things and hope all things," even
while he continued to suffer much from him, and for a length of time,
with unparalleled forbearance and kindness. Sabat's temper was a
continual trial and mortification. The very first Sabbath in
Singapore, imagining he was not treated with sufficient dignity, he
left the church before service in great anger. Often in the midst of
the translation he would come to a sudden stop and refuse to go on for
the most trivial reasons, sometimes for fear that Mirza who would
review the work might have part of the honor. About this time Mr.
Martyn was much bereaved by the removal of a family with whom he had
lived in intimate terms of Christian intercourse. "This separation
affected him the more sensibly because it was not in every family at
that station that he met with a kind and cordial reception." He says,
"I called on one of the Singapore families, and felt my pride rise at
the uncivil manner in which I was received. I was disposed at first to
determine never to visit the house again, but I remembered the words,
'overcome evil with good.'"

In the month of March, 1808, the New Testament in Hindoostanee was
completed. He says, "I have read and corrected the manuscript till my
eyes ache; such a week of labor I believe I have never passed. The
heat is terrible, often at 98 degrees, the nights insupportable." We
next hear of Mr. Martyn suffering from severe illness with fever and
vertigo, and pained with the thought of leaving the Persian gospels
unfinished! So unselfish, so full of zeal! Again at work, mercury at
102 degrees. "Arabic now employs my few moments of leisure. In
consequence of reading the Koran with Sabat audibly, and drinking no
wine, the slander has gone forth that the Singapore Padre has turned
Mussulman.

"June 6th. To-day we have completed the Persian of St. Matthew. Sabat
desired me to kneel down to bless God for the happy event, and we
joined in praise of the Father of lights. It is a superb performance
in every respect, with elegance enough to attract the careless and
please the fastidious; it contains enough of Eternal Life to save the
reader's soul.... My services on the Lord's day always leave me with a
pain in the chest, and such a great degree of general relaxation, that
I seldom recover it till Tuesday. The society still meet every night
at my quarters, and though we have lost many by death, others are
raised up in their room. One officer, a lieutenant, is also given to
me, and he is not only a brother beloved, but a constant companion and
nurse; so you must feel no apprehension that I should be left alone in
sickness."

In April, 1809, Mr. Martyn removes from Dinapore to Cawnpore. Here he
met friendship and hospitality. We quote from the graceful pen of Mrs.
Sherwood: "The month of April in the upper provinces of Hindoostan is
one of the most dreadful months for traveling throughout the year;
indeed, no European at that time can remove from place to place, but
at the risk of his life.

"But Mr. Martyn had that anxiety to begin the work which his heavenly
Father had given him to do, that notwithstanding the violent heat, he
traveled from Chunar to Cawnpore, the space of about four hundred
miles. At that time as I well remember, the air was as hot and dry as
that which I have sometimes felt near the mouth of a large oven, no
friendly cloud or verdant carpet of grass to relieve the eye from the
strong glare of the rays of the sun pouring on the sandy plains of the
Ganges. Thus Mr. Martyn traveled, journeying night and day, and
arrived at Cawnpore in such a state that he fainted away as soon as he
entered the house. When we charged him with the rashness of hazarding
his life in this manner, he always pleaded his anxiety to get to the
great work. He remained with us ten days, suffering considerably at
times from fever and pain in the chest.

"Mr. Martyn's removal from Dinapore to Cawnpore was to him in many
respects a very unpleasant arrangement. He was several hundred miles
farther distant from Calcutta and more widely separated than before
from his friend Mr. Corrie. He had new acquaintances to form at his
new abode, and after having with much difficulty procured the erection
of a church at Dinapore he was transported to a spot where none of the
conveniences, much less the decencies and solemnities of public
worship, were visible.

"We find him soon after he arrived there preaching to a thousand
soldiers drawn up in a hollow square, when the heat was so great,
although the sun had not risen, that many actually dropped down,
unable to support it."

Yet Mr. Martyn's labors were not abated. Every Sabbath at dawn were
prayers and sermon with the regiment, and again at eleven at the house
of the general of the station. In the afternoon he preached to a crowd
of poor natives, five, to eight hundred, rude, noisy, wretched
beggars, for whose souls he felt a tender care. Again in the evening,
the best of the day, he had a meeting with the more devout of his
flock. These ministrations so earnestly performed were most
exhausting, yet he knew not how to forego them; at this time, too,
from England came the sad and sudden news of the death of his sister,
the one who had led him to Christ.

The alarming state of his health made some change necessary, and Mr.
Martyn was urged to leave India and make trial of a sea voyage. His
Persian New Testament had been criticised as unfit for general
circulation, being written in a style too learned and exalted for the
comprehension of the common people. He was advised to visit Persia and
there revise his work and also complete his version in Arabic, almost
finished. Mr. Brown, his devoted friend, and the Calcutta agent of the
British and Foreign Bible Society, thus writes: "Can I then bring
myself to cut the string and let you go? I confess I could not if your
bodily frame were strong, and promised to last for half a century. But
as you burn with the intenseness and rapid blaze of heated phosphorus,
why should we not make the most of you? Your flame may last as long
and perhaps longer in Arabia, than in India. Where should the Phoenix
build her odoriferous nest, but in the land prophetically called 'the
blessed?' and where shall we ever expect, but from that country, the
true Comforter to come to the nations of the East? I contemplate your
New Testament springing up, as it were, from dust and ashes, but
beautiful as the wings of a dove covered with silver, and his feathers
like yellow gold." His farewell services at Cawnpore were very tender
and affecting, both with his great audience of natives and Englishmen.
Of the latter, Mrs. Sherwood says: "He began in a weak and faint
voice, being at that time in a very bad state of health; but,
gathering strength as he proceeded, he seemed as one inspired from on
high. Never was an audience more affected. The next day this holy and
heavenly man left Cawnpore and the society of many who sincerely loved
and admired him." Stopping to visit the friends in Calcutta, the Rev.
Mr. Thomason says: "This bright and lovely jewel first gratified our
eyes on Saturday last. He is on his way to Arabia, where he is going
in pursuit of health and knowledge. You know his genius, and what
gigantic strides he takes in everything. He has some great plan in his
mind, of which I am no competent judge; but as far as I do understand
it, the object is far too grand for one short life, and much beyond
his feeble and exhausted frame. Feeble it is, indeed; how fallen and
changed! His complaint lies in his lungs and appears to be an
incipient consumption. But let us hope the sea air may revive him, and
that change may do him essential service and continue his life many
years. In all other respects he is exactly the same as he was; he
shines in all the dignity of love, and seems to carry about him such a
heavenly majesty as impresses the mind beyond description. But if he
talks much, though in a low voice, he sinks, and you are reminded of
his being dust and ashes." Though so infirm, Mr. Martyn preached every
Sabbath of his visit, and his last sermon on the anniversary of the
Calcutta Bible Society was afterwards printed and entitled "Christian
India, or an appeal on behalf of nine hundred thousand Christians in
India who want the Bible."



LIFE IN PERSIA.


From this time a change comes over Mr. Martyn's varied life. We have
seen him the successful candidate for academical distinctions--the
faithful and laborious pastor--the self-denying and devoted
missionary--the indefatigable translator--the preacher of the gospel
to the heathen; we are now called to admire in him the courageous
spirit of the Christian confessor.

He says, on his voyage towards Persia: "All down the Bay of Bengal I
could do nothing but sit listless, viewing the wide waste of water, a
sight that would have been beautiful had I been well. In my Hebrew
researches I scarcely ever felt so discouraged. All the knowledge I
thought I had acquired became uncertain, and consequently I was
unhappy. It was in vain that I reflected that thousands live and die
happy without such knowledge as I am in search of.

"Proposed family prayer every night in the cabin--no objection was
made.

"February 18, anchored off Bombay. This day I finished the thirtieth
year of my unprofitable life, the age at which David Brainerd finished
his course. I am now at the age at which the Savior of men began his
ministry, and at which John the Baptist called a nation to repentance.
Hitherto I have made my youth and insignificance an excuse for sloth
and imbecility, now let me have a character and act boldly for God.

"March 5. Feerog, a Parsee who is considered the most learned man
here, called to converse about religion. He spoke Persian and seemed
familiar with Arabic. He began by saying that no one religion had more
evidences of its truth than another, for that all the miracles of the
respective founders depended upon tradition. This I denied. He
acknowledged that the writer of the Zendavesta was not cotemporary
with Zoroaster. After disputing and raising objections he was left
without an answer, but continued to cavil. 'Why' said he, 'did the
Magi see the star in the East and none else? from what part of the
East did they come? and how was it possible that their king should
come to Jerusalem in seven days?' The last piece of information he had
from the Armenians. I asked him whether he had any thoughts of
changing his religion. He replied with a contemptuous smile, 'No,
every man is safe in his own religion.' I asked him, 'What sinners
must do to obtain pardon?' 'Repent,' said he. I asked, 'Would
repentance satisfy a creditor or a judge?' 'Why, is it not said in the
gospel,' rejoined he, 'that we must repent?' I replied, 'It cannot be
proved from the gospel that repentance alone is sufficient, or good
works, or both.' 'Where then is the glory of salvation?' he said; I
replied, 'In the atonement of Christ.' 'All this' said he, 'I know,
but so the Mohammedans say, that Hosyn was an atonement for the sins
of men.' He then began to criticise the translations he saw on the
table.

"April 23. Moscat, Arabia. Went on shore and met the Vizier. His
African slave argued with me for Mohammed and did not know how to let
me go, he was so interested in the business.

"April 25. Gave him an Arabic copy of the gospel, which he at once
began to read, and carried it off as a great prize, which I hope he
will find it to be.

"Bushire, Persia. Called on the governor, a Persian Khan. He was very
particular in his attentions. Seated me on his own seat and then sat
by my side. After the usual salutations and inquiries the calean
(pipe), was introduced, then coffee in china cups placed within silver
ones, then calean, then some rose-water syrup, then calean. Observing
the windows of stained glass, I began to question him about the art of
coloring glass, observing that the modern Europeans were inferior to
the ancient in the manufacture of the article. He expressed his
surprise that Europeans, who were so skillful in making watches,
should fail in any handicraft work. I could not help recollecting the
Emperor of China's sarcastic remark on the Europeans and their arts,
and therefore dropped the subject. On his calean--I called it hookah
at first, but he did not understand me--I noticed several little
paintings of the Virgin and child, and asked him whether such things
were not unlawful among Mohammedans. He answered very coolly 'Yes,' as
much as to say, 'What then?' I lamented that the Eastern Christians
should use such things in their churches. He repeated the words of a
good man who was found fault with for having an image before him while
at prayer, 'God is nearer to me than that image, so that I do not see
it.' This man, I afterwards found, is like most of the other grandees
of the East, a murderer.

"On the 30th of May, our Persian dresses were ready, and we set out
for Shiraz. The Persian dress consists of first, stockings and shoes
in one; next, a pair of large blue trousers, or else a pair of huge
red boots; then the shirt, then the tunic, and above it the coat, both
of chintz, and a great coat. I have here described my own dress, most
of which I have on at this moment. On the head is worn an enormous
cone made of the skin of the black Tartar sheep with the wool on. If
to this description of my dress I add that my beard and mustachios
have been suffered to vegetate undisturbed ever since I left India;
that I am sitting on a Persian carpet, in a room without tables or
chairs, and that I bury my hand in the pillar (rice), without waiting
for spoon or plate, you will give me credit for being already an
accomplished Oriental.

"At ten o'clock on the 30th our califa began to move. It consisted
chiefly of mules with a few horses. I wished to have a mule, but the
muleteer favored me with his own pony; this animal had a bell fastened
to its neck. To add solemnity to the scene, a Bombay trumpeter who was
going to join the embassy was directed to blow a blast as we moved off
the ground; but whether it was that the trumpeter was not an adept in
the science or that his instrument was out of order, the crazy sounds
that saluted our ears had a ludicrous effect. At last, after some
jostling, mutual recriminations and recalcitrating of the steeds, we
each found our places and moved out of the gate of the city in good
order. The residents accompanied us a little way, and then left us to
pursue our journey over the plain. It was a fine moonlight night, the
scene new and perfectly oriental, and nothing prevented me from
indulging my own reflections. As the night advanced the califa grew
quiet; on a sudden one of the muleteers began to sing, and sang in a
voice so plaintive that it was impossible not to have one's attention
arrested. Every voice was hushed.

"These were the words translated:

  Think not that e'er my heart could dwell
    Contented far from thee,
  How can the fresh-caught nightingale
    Enjoy tranquility?

  Oh, then forsake thy friend for naught
    That slanderous tongues can say,
  The heart that fixeth where it ought
    No power can rend away.

"Thus far our journey was agreeable. Now for miseries. At sunrise we
came to our ground at Ahmedu, six parasangs, and pitched our little
tent under a tree; it was the only shelter we could get. At first the
heat was not greater than we had felt in India, but it soon became so
intense as to be quite alarming. When the thermometer was above 112
degrees, fever heat, I began to lose my strength fast; at last it
became quite intolerable. I wrapped myself up in a blanket and all the
warm covering I could get to defend myself from the external air, by
which means the moisture was kept a little longer upon the body, and
not so speedily evaporated as when the skin was exposed. One of my
companions followed my example and found the benefit of it. But the
thermometer still rising, and the moisture of the body being quite
exhausted, I grew restless and thought I should have lost my senses.
The thermometer at last stood at 126 degrees. In this state I composed
myself and concluded that, though I might hold out but a day or two,
death was inevitable. Captain ---- continued to tell the hour and
heights of the thermometer, and with pleasure we heard of it sinking
to 120 degrees, 118 degrees, etc. At last the fierce sun retired and I
crept out more dead than alive. The next day we secured some comfort
from a large wet towel wrapped about the head and body. At sunset,
rising to go out, a scorpion fell upon my clothes. The night before we
found a black scorpion in our tent, that made us uneasy, so we got no
sleep."

June 9 Mr. Martyn arrived at Shiraz, the celebrated seat of Persian
literature, and at once began work upon his translation with the
efficient help of Mirza Seid Ali Khan. In this work he had many
interruptions, being himself an object of attention and curiosity. He
received many calls, and unwilling to lose any opportunity of
benefiting the inhabitants of Shiraz, was never inaccessible to them.
He says, "June 17, in the evening, Seid Ali came with two Moollahs,
and with them I had a very long and temperate discussion. One of them
read the beginning of John in Arabic and inquired very particularly
into our opinions respecting the person of Christ, and when he was
informed that we did not consider His human nature eternal nor His
mother divine, seemed quite satisfied, and remarked to the others,
'how much misapprehension is removed when people come to an
explanation.'"

"June 22. The Prince's secretary called to talk about Soofeeism. They
believe they know not what. He thought to excite my wonder by telling
me that I and every created being was God.

"June 26. Two young men from the college came, full of zeal and logic,
to try me with hard questions such as, whether being be but one or
two? What is the state and form of disembodied spirits? and other
foolish and unlearned questions ministering strife. At last, one of
them discovered the true cause of his coming by asking me bluntly to
bring a proof of the religion of Christ. You allow the divine mission
of Christ, said I, why need I prove it? Not being able to draw me into
an argument they said what they wished to say, namely, that I had no
other proof for the miracles of Christ than they had for those of
Mohammed, which is tradition. 'Softly' I said, 'You will be pleased to
observe a difference between your books and ours, when by tradition we
have reached our several books, our narrators were eye witnesses;
yours are not, nor nearly so.'

"In the evening Seid Ali asked me the cause of evil. I said I knew
nothing about it. He thought he could tell me, so I let him reason on
till he soon found he knew as little about the matter as myself. He
wanted to prove that there was no real difference between good and
evil; that it was only apparent. I observed that the difference, if
only apparent, was the cause of a great deal of misery.

"June 30, Sunday. Preached to the Ambassador's suite on the 'Faithful
Saying.' In the evening baptized his child. Zachariah told me this
morning that I was the town talk." Indeed Shiraz was stirred to its
depth by the presence of Mr. Martyn during the whole year of his stay.
Men of every kind, especially the learned and zealous, came singly and
in groups almost every day to argue and dispute against Christ. Now it
was a party of Armenians, now learned Jews, now a prince, now a
general, now the very Moojtuhid himself, the professor of Mohammedan
law. This great dignitary invited Mr. Martyn to his house, where for
hours he talked on and on, defending his Prophet and showing his
learning; he was greatly annoyed at any difference of opinion, and
decided it was "quite useless for Mohammedans and Christians to argue
together, as they had different languages and different histories."
But fearing Mr. Martyn's influence he was stirred to write a defense
of his faith, which was said to surpass all former treatises on Islam.
He concludes it in these words, addressed to Mr. Martyn: "Oh, thou
that art wise! consider with the eye of justice, since thou hast no
excuse to offer to God. Thou hast wished to see the truth of miracles.
We desire you to look at the great Koran: that is an everlasting
miracle." Mr. Martyn replied, showing why men are bound to reject
Mohammedanism; that Mohammed was foretold by no prophet, worked no
miracles, spread his religion by means merely human, appeals to man's
lowest and sensual nature, that he was ambitious for himself and
family, that the Koran is full of absurdities and contradictions, that
it contains a method of salvation wholly inefficacious, sadly
contrasting with the divine atonement of Jesus Christ. The Prince's
nephew, hearing of the attack on Mohammed, said, "the proper answer to
it is the sword."

Mr. Martyn writes, February 8: "This is my birthday, on which I
complete my thirty-first year. The Persian New Testament has been
begun and finished in it. Such a painful year I never passed, owing to
the privations I have been called to, on the one hand, and the
spectacle before me of human depravity on the other. But I hope I have
not come to this seat of Satan in vain. The Word of God has found its
way into Persia, and it is not in Satan's power to oppose its progress
if the Lord hath sent it."

The Psalms in Persian was finished by the middle of March.

On the 23d Mr. Martyn writes: "I called on the Vizier. In the court
where he received me, Mirza Ibraheem was lecturing. Finding myself so
near my old and respectable antagonist, I expressed a wish to see him,
on which Jaffier Ali Khan went up to ascertain if my visit would be
agreeable. The master consented, but some of the disciples demurred.
At last, one of them, observing that by the blessing of God on the
master's conversation I might possibly be converted, it was agreed
that I should be invited to ascend. Then it became a question where I
ought to sit. Below all would not be respectful to a stranger, but
above all the Moollahs could not be tolerated. I entered and was
surprised at the numbers. The room was lined with Moollahs on both
sides and at the top. I was about to sit down on the floor but was
beckoned to an empty place near the top, opposite to the master, who,
after the usual compliments, without further ceremony, asked me, 'What
we meant by calling Christ, God?' War being thus unequivocally
declared, I had nothing to do but stand upon the defensive. Mirza
Ibraheem argued temperately enough; but of the rest, some were very
violent and clamorous. The former asked 'if Christ had ever called
himself God--was he the Creator or a creature?' I replied, 'The
Creator.' The Moollahs looked at one another. Such a confession had
never before been heard among the Mohammedan doctors.

"One Moollah wanted to controvert some of my illustrations by
interrogating me about the personality of Christ. To all his questions
I replied by requesting the same information respecting his own
person. To another, who was rather contemptuous and violent, I said
'If you do not approve of our doctrine, will you be so good as to say
what God is, according to you, that I may worship a proper object?'
One said, 'the author of the universe.' 'I can form no idea from these
words,' said I, 'but of a workman at work upon a vast number of
materials. Is that a correct notion?' Another said, 'One who came of
himself into being.' 'So then he came,' I replied, 'out of one place
into another, and before he came he was not. Is this an abstract and
refined notion?' After this no one asked me any more questions, and
for fear the dispute should be renewed Jaffier Ali Khan carried me
away."

When we think of the bigotry and intolerance of these people and of
Mr. Martyn's unflinching courage single-handed and alone, declaring
the truth and preaching Christ, exposed to the greatest personal
danger, contempt and insult, but unabashed, he stands before the world
during his Shiraz residence as one of the bravest and grandest heroes
that has ever lived. Such a spectacle is thrilling and sublime. God
was with him to protect him and to inspire his magnificent
confessions. A figure-head in history! A sight for angels and for men!

                    Faithful found
  Among the faithless, faithful only he,
  Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified,
  His loyalty he kept, his zeal, his love.

And God was with him to cheer and comfort, and we rejoice to know that
some of the scenes of his life in Shiraz were quiet and restful. At
one time a tent was pitched for him in a garden in the suburbs of the
city.

Living amidst clusters of grapes by the side of a clear stream and
frequently sitting under the shade of an orange tree, which Jaffier
Ali Khan delighted to point out to visitors, until the day of his own
departure, he passed many a tranquil hour, and enjoyed many a Sabbath
of holy rest and divine refreshment.

He says: "Passed some days at Jaffier Ali Khan's garden with Mirza
Seid Ali, Aga Baba, Sheikh Abul Hassam, reading at their request the
Old Testament histories. Their attention to the word and their love
and respect for me seemed to increase as the time for my departure
approached. Aga Baba, who had been reading St. Matthew, related very
circumstantially to the company the particulars of the death of
Christ. The bed of roses on which we sat and the notes of the
nightingales warbling around us, were not so sweet to me as this
discourse from the Persian."

The plain of Shiraz is covered with ancient ruins, and contains the
tombs of the poets Zaadi and Hafiz.

  A vision of the bright Shiraz, of Persian bards the theme;
  The vine with bunches laden hangs o'er the crystal stream;
  The nightingale all day her notes in rosy thicket trills,
  And the brooding heat-mist faintly lies along the distant hills.

  About the plain are scattered wide in many a crumbling heap,
  The fanes of other days, and tombs where Iran's poets sleep;
  And in the midst, like burnished gems, in noonday light repose
  The minarets of bright Shiraz,--the City of the Rose.

  One group beside the river bank in rapt discourse are seen,
  Where hangs the golden orange on its boughs of purest green;
  Their words are sweet and low, and their looks are lit with joy,
  Some holy blessing seems to rest on them and their employ.

  The pale-faced Frank among them sits; what brought him from afar?
  Nor bears he bales of merchandise, nor teaches skill in war;
  One pearl alone he brings with him--the Book of life and death,--
  One warfare only teaches he,--to fight the fight of faith.

  And Iran's sons are round him, and one with solemn tone
  Tells how the Lord of Glory was rejected by his own;
  Tells from the wondrous gospel of the trial and the doom,--
  The words divine of love and might,--the scourge, the cross, the tomb.

  Far sweeter to the stranger's ear these eastern accents sound,
  Than music of the nightingale that fills the air around;
  Lovelier than balmiest odors sent from gardens of the rose,
  The fragrance from the contrite soul and chastened lip that flows.

  The nightingales have ceased to sing, the roses' leaves are shed,
  The Frank's pale face in Tocat's field hath mouldered with the dead;
  Alone and all unfriended midst his Master's work he fell,
  With none to bathe his fevered brow, with none his tale to tell.

  But still those sweet and solemn tones about him sound in bliss,
  And fragrance from those flowers of God forevermore is his;
  For his the meed, by grace, of those who rich in zeal and love,
  Turn many unto righteousness, and shine as stars above.

  1851.                                             --HENRY ALFORD.

On the 24th of May, after a year's residence, Mr. Martyn left Shiraz,
bearing his precious translation to be presented to the Shah. The
journey was an occasion of disappointment, exposure and suffering.

Arrived at the Shah's camp he says: "June 12th, attended the Vizier's
levee, when there was a most intemperate and clamorous controversy
kept up for an hour or two, eight or ten on one side, and I on the
other. Amongst them were two Moollahs, the most ignorant of any I have
met in Persia or India. It would be impossible to enumerate all the
absurd things they said. Their vulgarity in interrupting me in the
middle of a speech, their utter ignorance of the nature of an
argument, their impudent assertions about the law and the gospel,
neither of which they had ever seen in their lives, moved my
indignation. The Vizier said, 'You had better say, God is God and
Mohammed is the prophet of God.' I said, 'God is God,' but added,
instead of 'Mohammed is the prophet of God,' 'Jesus is the Son of
God.' They had no sooner heard this, which I had avoided bringing
forward till then, than they all exclaimed in contempt and anger, 'He
is neither born nor begets,' and rose up as if they would have torn me
in pieces. One of them said, 'What will you say when your tongue is
burnt out for this blasphemy?'

"My book which I had brought, expecting to present it to the king, lay
before Mirza Shufi. As they all rose up after him to go, some to the
king, and some away, I was afraid they would trample upon the book; so
I went in among them to take it up, and wrapped it in a towel before
them, while they looked at it and me with supreme contempt. Thus I
walked away alone to my tent to pass the rest of the day in heat and
dirt. What have I done, thought I, to merit all this scorn? Nothing, I
trust, but bearing testimony to Jesus. I thought over these things in
prayer and found the peace which Christ hath promised. To complete the
trials of the day a messenger came from the Vizier in the evening to
say that it was the custom of the king not to see any Englishman
unless presented by the ambassador or accredited by a letter from him,
and that I must therefore wait till the king reached Sultania, where
the ambassador would be."

Traveling toward Tabriz he writes, June 22: "Met with the usual
insulting treatment at the caravansarai when the king's servant had
got possession of a good room built for the reception of the better
order of guests; they seemed to delight in the opportunity of humbling
a European--all along the road when the king is expected the people
are patiently waiting as for some dreadful disaster; plague,
pestilence or famine are nothing to the misery of being subject to the
violence and extortion of this rabble soldiery.

"June 26. Have eaten nothing now for two days. My mind much disordered
from headache and giddiness;--but my heart is with Christ and His
saints.

"June 27. Passed the third day in the same exhausted state, my head
tortured with shocking pains, such as, together with the horror I felt
at being exposed to the sun, showed me plainly to what to ascribe my
sickness."

Thus in great illness and suffering Mr. Martyn reached Tabriz, and was
nursed through a fever of two months' continuance at the ambassador's
residence. This defeated his plan of presenting the Persian New
Testament to the king--but it was afterwards done by Sir Gore Ouseley
himself, and publicly received the royal approbation, and still later
was printed in St. Petersburg.

On leaving Cawnpore, Mr. Martyn had intended returning to England, but
had willingly remained in Persia to finish the translation, which
being now disposed of, he reverted to his original intention, and set
out on his last fatal journey towards Constantinople, September 2. His
journal is filled with expressions of gratitude for restored health,
delight in the scenery of Tabriz, descriptions of the country and the
journey, the Araxes river, the hoary peaks of Ararat, the governor's
palace, the ancient Armenian church and monastery at Ech-Miazin, where
he received great kindness from the Patriarch and the monks. He was
profoundly impressed with the view from an elevated table-land looking
out upon Persia, Russia and Turkey--a Pisgah vision, which excites in
later missionaries a strong desire for Christian conquest. Describes
Cars and Erzroom. September 29, left Erzroom. Was attacked with fever
and ague.

"September 30. Took nothing all day but tea; headache and loss of
appetite depressed my spirits, yet my soul rests in Him who is as
anchor of the soul, sure and steadfast, which, not seen, keeps me
fast.

"October 1. Marched over a mountainous tract; we were out from seven
in the morning till eight at night. After sitting a little by the fire
I was near fainting from sickness. My depression of spirits led me to
the throne of grace as a sinful abject worm. When I thought of myself
and my transgressions, I could find no text so cheering as, 'My ways
are not as your ways.' From the men who accompanied Sir Wm. Ouseley to
Constantinople I learned that the plague was raging at Constantinople
and thousands dying every day. One of the Persians had died of it.
They added that the inhabitants of Tocat were flying from their town
from the same cause. Thus I am passing into imminent danger. O Lord
thy will be done! Living or dying, remember me.

"October 2. Lodged in the stables of the post-house. As soon as it
began to grow a little cold, the ague came on and then the fever,
after which I had a sleep, which let me know too plainly the disorder
of my frame. In the night Hossan sent to summon me away, but I was
quite unable to move. Finding me still in bed at the dawn he began to
storm furiously at my detaining him so long, but I quietly let him
spend his ire, ate my breakfast composedly, and set out at eight. He
seemed determined to make up for the delay, for we flew over hill and
dale to Sherean, where we changed horses. From thence we traveled all
the rest of the day and all night. It rained most of the time. After
sunset the ague came on again, which in my wet state was very trying.
I hardly know how to keep my life in me. About that time there was a
village at hand, but Hassan had no mercy. The night was pitchy dark,
so that I could not see the road under my horse's feet. However, God
being mercifully pleased to alleviate my bodily suffering, I went on
contentedly to the munzil (stopping-place). After sleeping three or
four hours Hassan hurried me away, and galloped furiously toward a
village, which he said was four hours distant, which was all I could
undertake in my present state; but village after village did he pass,
till night coming on, and no signs of another, I suspected he was
carrying me on to the munzil; so I got off my horse and sat upon the
ground and told him I neither could nor would go any farther. He
stormed, but I was immovable, till a light, appearing at a distance, I
mounted my horse and made toward it, leaving him to follow or not as
he pleased. He brought in the party, but would not exert himself to
get a place for me. They brought me to an open verandah, but Sergius
told them I wanted a place in which to be alone. This seemed very
offensive to them, 'and why must he be alone'? they asked, ascribing
this desire of mine to pride, I suppose. Tempted at last by money they
brought me to a stable room, and Hassan and a number of others planted
themselves there with me. My fever here increased to a violent degree,
the heat in my eyes and forehead was so great that the fire almost
made me frantic. I entreated that it might be put out or that I might
be carried out of doors. Neither was attended to; my servant, who from
my sitting in that strange way on the ground, believed me delirious,
was deaf to all I said. At last I pushed my head in among the luggage
and lodged it on the damp ground and slept.

"October 5. Preserving mercy made me see the light of another morning.
The sleep had refreshed me but I was feeble and shaken, yet the
merciless Hassan hurried me off. I was pretty well lodged and felt
tolerably well till a little after sunset, when the ague came on with
a violence I had never before experienced. I felt as if in a palsy, my
teeth chattering, and my whole frame violently shaken. Aga Hosyn and
another Persian on their way here from Constantinople, came hastily to
render me assistance if they could. These Persians appear quite
brotherly after the Turks. While they pitied me, Hassan sat in perfect
indifference, ruminating on the further delay this was likely to
occasion. The cold fit after continuing two or three hours was
followed by a fever, which lasted the whole night and prevented sleep.

"October 6. No horses were to be had, and I had an unexpected repose.
Sat in the orchard and thought with sweet comfort and peace of my God:
in solitude my companion, friend and comforter. Oh, when shall time
give place to eternity--when shall appear that new heaven and earth,
wherein dwelleth righteousness! There, there shall in no wise enter in
anything that defileth; none of that wickedness which has made men
worse than wild beasts, none of those corruptions which add still more
to the miseries of humanity, shall be seen or heard of any more."

Here abruptly closes the journal, with pantings for the glory and the
purity of Immanuel's land, into which he was admitted by a blessed
translation, released from all the sufferings of life on October 16,
1812, at Tocat, Turkey. The manner of his death is not known, whether
it resulted from the sickness described, or from the plague, then
raging. Whether Hassan was cruel and driving to the last, whether all
his heartless Turkish attendants deserted him or not in his hour of
final agony, we cannot tell. No relative or friend was there, no
tender voice of sympathy, no woman's soothing hand, no alleviations
from medicine. Even the commonest decencies and necessities of
civilized life were lacking. Earth gave nothing to Henry Martyn in his
mortal need, but we are sure heavenly consolations were unstinted.

  "Jesus can make a dying bed
   Feel soft as downy pillows are."

And Jesus was there! And Henry Martyn was satisfied, and is forever
satisfied! "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his
saints." And the most priceless legacy of the blood-bought and
commissioned church is the memory of a life, so gifted, so unselfish,
so consecrated.

It is wanting in no element of moral heroism. Our souls confess its
grandeur. The contemplation lifts us into a higher atmosphere than
that of mammon, and self, and earth. We rejoice to see a crown so
rare, so fair, so precious, laid at the feet of Jesus, the King. He is
worthy. And we long to see the youth of our land and the church
inspired by Henry Martyn's example, as he was inspired by David
Brainerd's. And so we would have the apostolic succession continued
till the millennium, of such as shall not count their lives dear for
the testimony of the gospel.

It is said that after Mr. Martyn's death one of his earliest and most
devoted friends, the Rev. Charles Simeon, used always to keep his
picture before him in his study for help and inspiration. "Move where
he would through the apartment, it seemed to keep its eyes upon him,
and ever to say to him, 'Be earnest, be earnest; don't trifle, don't
trifle,' and the good Simeon would gently bow to the speaking picture,
and with a smile, reply, 'Yes, I will; I will be in earnest, I will
not trifle; for souls are perishing and Jesus is to be glorified.'"

Would that Henry Martyn's life might bring such a message to every
heart, and awaken in every one a similar response.



MISSIONARY ANNALS.
Price per vol., cloth 30c., paper 18c.

I.
MEMOIR OF ROBERT MOFFAT
_BY MRS. M. L. WILDER_.

II.
LIFE OF ADONIRAM JUDSON
_BY MISS JULIA H. JOHNSTON_.

III.
WOMAN AND THE GOSPEL IN PERSIA
_BY REV. THOMAS LAURIE, D.D._

IV.
LIFE OF REV. JUSTIN PERKINS, D.D.
_BY REV. HENRY MARTYN PERKINS_.

V.
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE
_BY MRS. J. H. WORCESTER, JR._

OTHERS IN PREPARATION. SENT POSTPAID ON RECEIPT OF PRICE.

CHICAGO:
WOMAN'S PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF MISSIONS OF THE NORTHWEST.
Room 48, McCormick Block.





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