How hard I feel it to-day to rise above the loss of my dear, dear Mary—it seems like a new wound just opened. It is so hard to feel the great honour and great proof of love the Lord has manifested towards me, in removing her I loved from the trials and sorrows of this earth to the ease and joy of his own Paradise, to join our dear little Mary, and sing there together his praise who washed them in his own blood, prepared them as vessels of honour, and then took them to himself. Sometimes I think I ought not to have gone out of our house during the plague, about Major T.’s affairs, but that I should have left them to their own fate; yet, at other times, I think, after all the kindness I had received from him, I ought not to have declined the dangerous service. Then again, I think that when I did go, I should have taken more precautions, and not have joined my dear family immediately, but remained apart; yet at last my heart comes round to the full assurance, that my dear and loving Lord would not have visited undesigned neglect, which sprang mainly from confidence in his loving care, with such a privation, had he not designed by it her speedy glory and my final good: now I shall go to her, but she shall not return to me.
The dear little boys are very anxious to leave Bagdad, yet they do not complain, nor appear on the whole otherwise than happy, which is indeed a great mercy. My poor dear little nursling, the object of ceaseless care, seems rather gaining than losing ground, yet is still so frail, that a blast of wind seems enough to extinguish the little fire that burns; but if the Lord will, even this little fire shall yet burn brighter and brighter, and defy in his name the rudest blasts.
Sometimes when I think on the complete stop the Lord has in his infinite wisdom seen fit to put to my little work here, I am astonished. Among those who are dead, is one who was translating the New Testament into the vulgar Armenian of this place, and had gone as far as Luke; and another gentleman, who was educated in Bombay, who was writing for me an English and Armenian Dictionary, in which he had proceeded about half way (10,000 words). In this dictionary there were not only the ancient and modern parallel words, but an explanation in vulgar Armenian, with examples. The probability of my meeting with one similarly qualified, able and willing again, is very small indeed; but with this, as with all the rest, it is the Lord, let him do what seemeth to him good. I wait to see his future pleasure manifested, and though I am now under a cloud of sorrow and separation from his service, may he sanctify it, and advance his glory by whomsoever he pleases, only giving me a heart to rejoice in their labours, and to love my Lord fervently, and then I hope I shall not complain. I never felt fit for much, and I daily now feel fit for less than I once thought I was, yet the Lord will not deny me a place in the body, and oh, may he give me a heart willing to take the lowest—that of washing the disciples’ feet. Oh, for the spirit of our dear humble Lord in that wonderful transaction so calculated to stain human pride with the name of madness, but especially the pride of those who call themselves his.
The weather is now getting intensely hot, and our cellars, which were our retreating places last year, are not habitable, the water being in them at least three feet high, and this, with the overflowing of the river, brought such swarms of mosquitos, that for several weeks it was almost impossible to sleep, and although now they are far less numerous, they are still very troublesome, so that if not on your guard every moment, you get stung by them.
July 20.—The weather is intensely hot, and we now begin seriously to miss the Serdaubs;[37] but I feel it most for dear little baby, to whom the heat is very, very trying. I also feel it very difficult to do any thing that requires the least exertion, and for the next six weeks we have no hope, of any mitigation, but rather an increase. The prospect too of affairs around us, leaves no resting place but in the love and favour of our Lord. The city is full of prophecies of the sorrows and desolations that are to come on this land; from the Pasha downward, this people seem devoted to astrology, believing lies, while they refuse to hear the truth; yet all their visions are of sorrow, lamentation, and woe.
I feel sometimes very much tried with respect to my future pursuit of missionary labours; for I have not only lost the encouragement and comfort of a sweet society that made every place a home; but all these domestic cares, which she so willingly and so entirely bore, have fallen on me, and I hardly seem, at least during the weakness of my dear little baby, to have time for any thing but to attend to them. Had I been joined by our dear brothers and sisters from Aleppo, it would have been comparatively light; but now, I can take no step, and before I may be able, the Lord may graciously afford me new light; for this I will therefore, with his grace and help, patiently wait.
July 21.—In some conversation I have just had with the old father of our late schoolmaster, I have been encouraged to feel that it is almost impossible for a missionary, even of the humblest pretensions, and in the lowest degree qualified for his calling, which I can I think with unaffected truth say, I feel to be my own case—to live among these people, and not to lead them to some most important principles. This old man is not only theoretically persuaded of the sufficiency of the Scriptures, but in his understanding fully convinced. His acquaintance with Scripture is very extensive and accurate, and on my servant coming to ask him the explanation of words in the translation lately set forth by the Bible Society, it led to a conversation on the importance of having a translation that every woman and child can understand. He said, “Yes, and it is only the pride of the learned and of the bishops which prevents it: if books once became published in the dialects of the people, the old language would cease to be cultivated.” This would doubtless be an infinite benefit, not only to the Armenians but to the Syrians and Chaldeans, and every Church of the East, among the people; a few learned men may, and most likely will, be found to extract what is valuable from the old language, if they have only enlightened judgment enough to leave the mass of rubbish behind. He mentioned the sermon on the Mount, which we received from Shushee, and said, that it opened the eyes of the children—yet even this dialect is very different from the one used here. I think this aged man understands and feels there is but one Church in the world; and he quoted that interesting passage, “Paul may plant and Apollos water, but God giveth the increase,” to prove it.
July 22.—I have to-day received letters from London and Aleppo, and I have reason to bless God for all; yet they all come armed with sorrow; for they are full of her of whom the Lord has emptied me. In my strength I thought I could so entirely give her up to him, did he desire it, since he had made her so strong in himself, and filled her so full of his blessings; well, and even now, my soul doth magnify the Lord, though in so many ways, I still feel my great and trying loss. Perhaps the Lord has meant to teach me that the 91st Psalm, as dear brother Cronin writes, relates only to Christ’s humanity, specially shewing how, from his cradle to his grave, his father watched over him, so that at last he laid down his life, but none took it from him; and he, in this great act, has made it over spiritually to us: he has left the natural plague because of sin, but destroyed the spiritual because of righteousness, even that righteousness which is by his own most precious blood.
The Pasha of Aleppo, hearing of dear Edward Cronin, as an English physician, wishing to come to Bagdad, wished to engage him to come with him as his physician, and offered him 1500 piasters a month; but, anxious as they were to come, the circumstances of their party did not, on mature deliberation, allow them to separate, and Ali Pasha was unwilling to undertake the responsibility of the females with his camp. And, oh, how my soul blesses the Lord, now I think on it, that these obstacles were so graciously interposed; disease, delay, and trouble would have accompanied them, and, till now, they would have been detained in the desert, with little prospect of speedy admission into the city, which is firing against the camp, and the camp firing against the city, and they would have been exposed to the full power of a sun, which no one can tell how to estimate, but by actual exposure to it.
I have also received a letter from Bussorah, stating that on the drying up of the inundations there, a fever has been spreading, and carrying off numbers. Major T.’s family had most of them been ill, but they were recovering. Mr. Bathie was very weak, and his wife dead. Dr. Beagry, the new surgeon of this station, also died, and immense numbers of those who had fled from the plague. Bussorah is still besieged, but expected soon to fall into the hands of the Motezellim.