DROPPING ANCHOR FOR THE LAST TIME.
May 16, at 11, A. M., we took a pilot off New York, and at 9, P. M., dropped anchor, having been gone nearly nineteen months, and, including our excursions from Hong Kong, having sailed forty-two thousand miles. All this time no sickness, accident, loss, nor painful delay had occurred to us. Our only regret was that the voyage had come to an end.
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In looking back upon it and recalling pleasurable seasons, those which most readily recur to me, (and let not the threefold mention of it seem obtrusive,) are, Morning hours on deck alone with a Bible. I only repeat the experience of every one who loves the Word of God. The mind freed from care sees in the Bible at such times meanings which grammars and lexicons never can impart. Nature might reveal things most wonderful at such a place as Singapore; but in a psalm read in the silence of the sea, there would often appear marvellous things in the language of Scripture, in its simple incidents, in the characters portrayed or acting themselves out unconsciously in their trials and joys, which would create an interest never excited by the plumage of East-India birds, or coral branches, or curiously twisted and beautifully enamelled shells, or by the marvellous light on insects and creeping things, or by precious stones, and pearls, and fine linen, and purple, and silk, and scarlet, and all thyine-wood, and cinamon, and odors, and ointments, and frankincense. I cannot forget the impressions made upon me by reading connectedly all the experiences and the language of the prophet Jeremiah. They were like the strange constellations which rise to view in low latitudes. I have felt among the wonderful things of God the truth of that inspired declaration, “Thou hast magnified thy word above all thy name.”
On reaching home, it was deeply interesting to find, at sick-beds, in stricken households, and in circles where the goodness of God had filled pious hearts with thankfulness, that one need not travel to be filled with all the fulness of God. “Neither is it beyond the sea, that thou shouldest say, Who shall go over the sea for us and bring it to us, that we may hear it and do it?” I found that some who had not left home for two years but had toiled in shops, and counting-rooms, and laboratories, and domestic life, had been increased with the increase of God.
It is easier to go round the world than through it. But in going through it we are tempted to think perhaps that in solitude with its retirement, we can have more of God’s presence than in the busy scenes of life. This led me at the close of our voyage, going back with restored health to busy scenes, to resolve that I would endeavor to guard against the feeling that there are places or conditions to which God’s presence is confined. Not in the solitudes of ocean, nor in rural scenes, “neither in this mountain nor yet at Jerusalem,” need we be, to enjoy communion with God.