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* * * * "Last scene of all To close this sad, eventful history." |
Scarcely four years ago,—in sickness and loneliness, and sad suspense,—in her Burman home, from which had departed (alas, forever!) its light and head—Emily C. Judson penned the foregoing beautiful letter. Read again its closing sentence,[11] and note how short a time she has "waited in faith and patience;" how soon she has been "summoned home." For her, it would be wrong for us to mourn. She has rejoined that circle, which she loved so well on earth, in a land where
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"Sickness and sorrow, pain and death Are felt and feared no more." |
But to her aged parents—to the little flock to whom she was as the tenderest mother—to the literary world, which enjoyed the ripe fruits of her genius—to the Christian world, of which she was a shining ornament and glory, her loss is irreparable. In her own inimitable words, we may exclaim:
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"Weep, ye bereaved! a dearer head Ne'er left the pillowing breast; The good, the pure, the lovely fled, When mingling with the shadowy dead She meekly went to rest. "Angels, rejoice! another string Has caught the strains above, Rejoice, rejoice! a new-fledged wing Around the throne is hovering, In sweet, glad, wondering love." |
But though one of the sweet fountains that well up here and there in our desert world, and surround themselves with greenness, and beauty, and life, has been exhaled to heaven, still it is refreshing to know that its streams, which made glad so many hearts, have not perished, for they were of "living water, springing up" into immortality. The writer is lost to us; her writings remain. By them "she being dead yet speaketh," and through them, whensoever we will, she may talk with us.
Mrs. Judson's final malady was consumption, but for several years her health had been feeble. One who saw her just before she left America says: "Looking upon her, we saw at once that it was a spirit which had already outworn its frame—a slight, pale, delicate, and transparent creature, every thought and feeling shining through, and every word and movement tremulous with fragility. * * * We said farewell with no thought that she would ever return."
From her voyage across the ocean she suffered less than was apprehended, and for a time she found the climate of India rather congenial than otherwise to her constitution. Her short residence at Rangoon, whither her husband removed with his family soon after reaching Burmah, was indeed a period of great suffering, and would have given a shock to a much hardier constitution. Her narrative of their sufferings there, contained in the life of her husband, by Dr. Wayland, excites our wonder that she survived them. But after their removal to Maulmain, she was restored to comparative health.
A letter from her husband, written in the latter part of 1848, when her little Emily Frances, her "bird," was one year old, gives a glowing picture of their happiness and their labors. He playfully says: "Even 'the young romance writer' had made a little book, (Scripture questions,) and she manages to conduct a Bible class, and native female prayer-meetings, so that I hope she will yet come to some good."
But a letter written to Miss Anable, Philadelphia, in the spring of 1849, is in a different strain: "A dark cloud is gathering round me. A crushing weight is upon me. I cannot resist the dreadful conviction that dear Emily is in a settled and rapid decline." After speaking of the many means he had unsuccessfully employed for her restoration, he says "The symptoms are such that I have scarcely any hope left. * * * If a change to any place promised the least relief, I would go anywhere. But we are here in the healthiest part of India, in the dry, warm season, and she suffers so much at sea that a voyage could hardly be recommended for itself. My only hope is, the doctor declares her lungs are not seriously affected. * * * When at Tavoy, she made up her mind that she must die soon, and that is now her prevailing expectation; but she contemplates the event with composure and resignation. * * * Though she feels that in her circumstances, prolonged life is exceedingly desirable, she is quite willing to leave all at the Savior's call. Praise be to God for his love to her." Some days later he adds: "Emily is better. * * * But though the deadly-pressure is removed from my heart, I do not venture to indulge any sanguine hopes after what I have seen. * * * Do remember us in your prayers."