May 8.—The Lord has this day manifested that the attack of my dear dear wife, is the plague, and of a very dangerous and malignant kind, so that our hearts are prostrate in the Lord’s hand. As I think the infection can have only come through me, I have little hope of escaping, unless by the Lord’s special intervention. It is indeed an awful moment, the prospect of having a little family in such a country at such a time. Yet, my dearest wife’s faith triumphs over these circumstances, and as she sweetly said to me to day, “The difference between a child of God and the worldling is not in death, but in the hope the one has in Jesus, while the other is without hope and without God in the world.” She says, “I marvel at the Lord’s dealings, but not more than at my own peace in such circumstances.” She is now continually sleeping, and when roused feels it difficult to keep her dear mind fixed on any subject for a minute. These are indeed the floods of deep waters, but in the midst of them the Lord is working his mysterious way, yet that way, however bitter to nature, is for the everlasting consolation of his chosen ones. She said to me, a few minutes since, “What does the Lord say concerning me.” I said, that you are a dear child of his. “Yes,” she said, “of that I have no doubt.” May the Lord of his infinite mercy sustain my poor weak soul amidst these heavy visitations, that at least we may magnify him, whether by life or by death; what a relief it is now to my mind to think that her’s was so much set against moving, whenever I proposed it, and she often said in reply, “The Lord has given me no desire nor sense of the desirableness of moving, which I feel assured he would have done had he seen it best.”
May 9.—My dearest, dearest wife still alive, and not apparently worse than yesterday. Oh! if it were the Lord’s holy blessed will to spare her, it would indeed rejoice my poor foolish heart, but the Lord has enabled me to cast my wife, myself, and my dear dear children on his holy love, and to await the issue. Oh! what wrath there must be against these lands, if not only the inhabitants are swept away, but the Lord transplants also his own, who would teach them, to his own garden of peace. My soul has just been refreshed by these two verses of Psalm 116. “Return unto thy rest, O my soul, for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee. He has taken one of thy olive branches to glory, and is now perhaps about to take another, for precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints, for he only takes them from the evil to come.” Oh, but for Jesus, the never setting star of our heavenly way, amidst the wilderness what would our situation now be. Jesus is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever, and our heavenly Father’s love we have too often proved to doubt it now. But, poor nature is bowed very very low, when I look at my dear boys and little babe, and see only poor little Kitto to be left for their care for hundreds of miles around; it needs all those consolations of God’s spirit to keep the soul from sinking also with the body; but the Lord has said, “Leave your fatherless children unto me,” and to him we desire to leave them.
We did feel assured that the Lord would spare our dear little united happy family; but his ways are not our ways, nor his thoughts our thoughts. Dear little Kitto, I feel for his situation also from my heart.
All the conversation of my dear dying wife, for these twelve months past, but especially as our difficulties and trials increased, was on the peace she enjoyed in the Lord. Often and often she has said to me, notwithstanding the disparity of every thing external, I never in England enjoyed that sweet sense of my Lord’s loving care that I have enjoyed in Bagdad. And her assurance of her Lord’s love never forsook her, even after she felt herself attacked by the plague. While contemplating the mysteriousness of the Providence, her mind was overwhelmed; but when she thought on her Lord’s love, she was confident in his graciousness. From almost the first, her brain has been so oppressed, that with difficulty she opens her eyes, and though she can answer a question of two or three words, Yes, or No; yet, if it involves the slightest exercise of thought, she always replies, “I do not know what you say.” When I consider all I and the dear children lose, should we survive her, it is almost more than my heart can contemplate. On any essential point, for some years, we have never had divided judgment on any material point; in every work of faith, or labour of love, her desire was to animate, not to hinder. Such simple truth of purpose, and unaffected love, and confidence in her Lord, as dwelt in her dear departing spirit, I have seldom seen, and those who knew her intimately will not think I say too much. She has been to me in the relation of Christian wife, and Missionary wife, just what I felt I so much, so very much needed. And yet the Lord sees fit to take her to himself, and add one more from my little family to the chosen, faithful, and true company that surrounds his throne. Lord, then, though it cuts nature to the quick, makes me feel its deepest suffering, and meets me under the most complicated forms of trial, yet if it be for thy glory, and her glory, do, dear Lord, thine Almighty will, and we know thou wilt to thy chosen, make light spring up out of darkness.
May 10.—Last evening my dearest wife was more herself than she had been, till within a few hours of her being taken ill, which was manifested by her asking to see dear little baby, the first thing she had voluntarily asked for, since her illness, without being spoken to. She again mentioned the subject of her confidence in her Lord, and acquiescence in his will. She asked me what I thought of her situation. I said I had committed her to the Lord, who, I knew, would deal graciously by her. She replied, “Yes, that he will.” She continued in this state of improvement till to-day at about nine o’clock, when her mind again began to wander. When I quoted to her, that to the Lord’s servants light should spring up in darkness, she said, “Yes, that it shall.” She said, “I feel much better than yesterday—don’t you see that I am.” In fact, my hopes of her being really improving would have been complete, but from that peculiar look of the eyes, which authors who have written on this subject, all denote as most fatal; from this, therefore, my hopes never were very high, yet though I had yesterday been enabled, through the Lord’s grace, to lie in his hands like a weaned child, to-day the disappointment of the dear hope, slight as it was, of having her restored to us, has brought my soul again into very deep waters. She also this morning expressed her anxiety about the dear children, and her fear, least in attending her, I should take the plague, and they be left orphans here.
In every respect, certainly the Lord has been most gracious to her. She is about to be transplanted to her native soil, where tears and sorrows shall never enter, and in the way of her removal, since the Lord’s time is come, nothing can be more compassionate to her peculiar weakness of heart than not allowing her anxiety to dwell on the dear children, and their probable situation here. To have been happy in quitting them, amidst such a scene as now surrounds us, and in such a country, perhaps no mortal faith could have been equal to; the Lord, therefore, suffered not her mind to possess its usual sensibilities; but took them from her, and left her only to return to his bosom in peace.
I feel the Holy Ghost again sustaining my poor weak heart in the prospect of losing such a wife, and remaining solitary here with three dear motherless children; but I know the Lord in whom I have believed, and he will not fail his chosen in one of all those good things he has promised. Our trials are indeed very very great; but the Lord, the comforter, is greater even than they. My dearest wife now (two o’clock,) is quite delirious. Dear spirit! I have attended her night and day since the evening of the 7th, on which she was taken ill, and I allow no one else to approach her. The Lord is my only stay, my only support, and he is a support indeed.
May 11.—This night has been the most trying of my life. How hard for the soul to see the object of its longest and best grounded earthly affections suffering without the power of affording relief, knowing too that a heavenly Father who has sent it, can relieve it, and yet seems to turn a deaf ear to one’s cries; at the same time, I felt, in the depths of my soul’s affections, that notwithstanding all, he is a God of infinite love. Satan has sorely tried me, but the Lord has shewn me, in the 22d Psalm, a more wonderful cry apparently unheeded, and the Holy Ghost has given me the victory, and enabled me to acquiesce in my Father’s will, though I now see not the end of his holy and blessed ways. Dear, dear spirit! she will soon wing her way to where her heart has long been; and, if I am spared, I shall perhaps have reason to bless God for having removed her thus early.
The plague has attacked two more of our household—the schoolmaster’s wife and our maid-servant, and how far it will go now, no one knows but he who guides it by his sovereign will. My dearest Mary’s sufferings for four or five hours last night were great; she was quite delirious, and her dear voice was so affected, that I could not make out two words connectedly. How mysterious are God’s ways! Oh my soul, learn the lesson of patient submission to his holy will. I have cast myself upon him and he will guide me. Dear Mary, to-day has been quite insensible. It has indeed been a very painful day, but it is the condition of this world. Dear spirit! her heart has been so set on her Lord’s coming of late, that it seemed quite to absorb her thoughts and heart. And now she will quickly join the holy assembly that are waiting to come with him. Surely such times as these, when the Lord is taking a ripe shock of corn from your field, are seasons to rejoice that your prayer for the quick accomplishment of the number of God’s elect has been heard, and yet how hard it is for nature not to feel deep sorrow that a message has come for one of yours.
Poor dear Kitto and the little boys are now become the sole nurses of the dear baby by night and by day. Oh, may the Lord watch over them and bless them. My last night’s attendance on my dear wife, leaves me little hope of escaping the plague, unless it be our Father’s special will to preserve me, for in her delirium she required so many times to be lifted from place to place, and to have all her clothes changed, that I can now only cry to the Lord to preserve me, if it may be a little while, for the dear children’s sake.