Lord, in each trial Thy love let us see;
Change e’en our heaviest woes into wings,
Onward and upward to bear us to Thee!”’
‘Feb. 12, 1892.
‘Mine own precious Sister,—Again have you been called to the trial of sickness and suffering.... These trials may seem strange and unaccountable to the children of earth, but how differently they are regarded by the children of light! They make us keep closer to the Father’s side,—cling more to His supporting Hand,—the weights do turn into wings! O how often have I during late days thought of that little parable! And when we reach the Blessed Shore, and “know as we are known,” we shall fully realise why it is good that we should be afflicted....
‘I was reading the Commandments aloud in a village yesterday, when a bright young Hindu Pandit—rather well read—objected to the Second. The poor fellow was probably conscious that he himself was constantly breaking the Second Commandment. It interested me to hear a middle-aged sensible-looking Sikh take the other side, quietly, and with perfect good-temper. Each of the men afterwards accepted a Gospel, one in Gurmukhi, one in Urdu.’
‘Feb. 18.—I am thankful for improved accounts of you.... We have had rather an eventful week for Batala.... On Monday the dear Bishop came in. Herbert asked me to take luncheon with him on Tuesday. It was very nice; just the Bishop, Herbert, and four nice Native Christians. I was the only lady.... At half-past three we had a very interesting Confirmation Service in the Church, to which the Bishop drove me. He gave a very nice address, which Herbert translated beautifully into Panjabi, for the benefit of the simple peasants. On the following morning the Bishop gave in English such a practical heart-searching address to us workers! He looked so earnestly at us ladies, and was evidently anxious to do us real good. His was no idle display of eloquence; rather did his address resemble the admonition of a kind wise father. We did not see him after we left the chapel....
‘We have had a singularly mild and bright cold weather.... How curious it would be to an English farmer to see fields green with corn in February,—the Spring crop,—and, at the same time, other bits of ground being ploughed up for the sowing of another crop! There seems something always growing. There are lovely roses and fruit blossoms, but the weather is now comparatively dark and dull.’
‘April 8, 1892.—The Muhammadans in Batala seem to be in a much better humour than they may be expected to be during the Ramazan—their grand fast. I have visited a good many Muhammadan Zenanas this week; and in not one, so far as I remember, have I heard a word about the fast, which was apt to make them so bigoted and self-righteous. No one objects when I repeat in Urdu the precious text, “By grace ye are saved, through faith,” etc. Indeed, I believe that a good many Batala folk think that after all our religion is better than their own. I repeat “God so loved ——” more often, I think, than any other text; and I have not lately heard the shocked exclamation, “Tauba! tauba!”[136] Perhaps it will be different to-morrow, when I propose visiting two villages, which were so bigoted and disagreeable, that I at one time struck both out of my visiting-list. Minnie induced me to give them—at least one of them—another trial, as she had given medical aid to the wife of the Maulvi (Muhammadan religious teacher of the place), and had found him very polite. No doubt the Dispensary opens doors. I found the Maulvi bigoted but civil, and ... willing to receive a New Testament.... I enjoy the quiet walk, and then ride in my duli, in the cool fresh morning, when I visit villages. The harvest has commenced. Here I see fields of ripening corn, there the scattered sheaves. But the harvest is not so plentiful as it was last year. We had too dry a cold weather; not nearly so chilly as the former one. I am taking out illuminated texts just now. I have beautiful ones, both in Persian, Urdu, and Gurmukhi. It is interesting to see peasants, somewhat more intelligent than their fellows, spelling out the precious verses from Scripture.’
‘April 12.—Precious darling Laura,—The Mail has to-day brought me in your letter of March 24th; the first clear intimation of the nature of your illness. I will not say that my eyes are dry. I own that the selfish thought arose,—“Would that I had had it instead!” And yet I prefer knowing the plain truth. I have comfort in the thought, “I am old; whichever of us is taken first, the meeting—O what a joyful meeting!—may not be far off!” ...