The Rev. Dr. Malcolm, who visited Burmah in 1836, gives a glimpse of the interior of Mr. Judson’s zayat:
“Our first Sabbath in this dark land was, of course, full of interest. In the morning we worshipped with the Burman congregation in the zayat. About seventy were present, nearly all Christians. Seldom have I seen so attentive and devout an audience. They sat, of course, on the floor, where mats, made of bamboo, were spread for their accommodation, a large bamboo, about eighteen inches from the floor, serving as a rest to the back. In prayer the Americans all knelt, and the rest leaned forward on their elbows, putting their palms together, and at the close of the petition, all responded an audible Amen. Mr. J. preached with much apparent earnestness, and all listened with rapt attention. Several inquirers were present, some of whom applied for baptism.”
The same observant traveller has drawn a word-picture of Mr. Judson’s personal appearance at this time:
“As my eye rested on this loved little company, it was sweet to contemplate the venerable founder of the mission, sitting there to rejoice in the growth of the cause he had so assiduously and painfully sustained. His labors and sufferings for years; his mastery of the language; his translation of the whole Word of God; and his being permitted now to be the pastor of a church containing over a hundred natives, make him the most interesting missionary now alive. What a mercy that he yet lives to devote to his people his enlarged powers of doing good! And we may hope he will very long be spared. His age is but forty-seven; his eye is not dim; not a gray hair shows itself among his full auburn locks; his moderate-sized person seems full of vigor; he walks almost every evening a mile or two at a quick pace; lives with entire temperance and regularity, and enjoys, in general, steadfast health. May a gracious God continue to make him a blessing more and more.”
From this point on, our narrative naturally assumes a more domestic character; and we are permitted to see Mr. Judson’s deep tenderness as a husband and a father. Some of the greatest objects of his life having been achieved, and his health beginning to decline, his restless spirit turned instinctively to family life for repose. On October 31, 1835, his heart was cheered by the birth of a daughter, whose name, Abby Ann,[[53]] associates her with his only sister, from whom he had parted so many years before, and also with her whom he left sleeping beneath the hopia-tree. While writing to his mother and sister, he mentions the birth of his child and betrays with what delight the care-wearied man, after his prolonged solitude, turned for rest to the amenities of home:
“Maulmain, November 1, 1835.
“Since I have attained, in some measure, the great objects for which I came out to the East, and do not find it necessary to be so exclusively and severely engrossed in missionary labors as I have been for a long course of years, my thoughts and affections revert more frequently, of late, to the dear home where I was born and brought up; and now especially, after having been childless many years, the birth of a daughter, and the revival of parental feelings, remind me afresh of the love with which my dear mother watched over my infancy, and of all the kindness with which she led me up from youth to man. And then I think of my earliest playmate, my dear sister, and delight to retrace the thousand incidents which marked our youthful intercourse, and which still stand, in the vista of memory, tokens of reciprocated brotherly and sisterly affection. Surely, I should have to call myself a most ungrateful son and brother, had I abandoned you forever in this world, as I have done, for any other cause than that of the kingdom of the glorious Redeemer.
“It is a great comfort, however, that, though separated in this world, we are all interested in the covenant love of that Redeemer, and can therefore hope that we shall spend our eternity together, in His blissful presence. It is my particular object, in writing at the present time, to engage your prayers for our little Abigail, that she may become early interested in the same divine love, and be one of our happy number in the bright world above. Her mother and myself both hope that the little circumstance of her being your namesake will tend to bring her more frequently to your remembrance at the throne of grace, and secure your prayers in her behalf.
“I alluded above to the attainment of the great objects of my missionary undertaking. I used to think, when first contemplating a missionary life, that, if I should live to see the Bible translated and printed in some new language, and a church of one hundred members raised up on heathen ground, I should anticipate death with the peaceful feelings of old Simeon. The Bible in Burmese will, I expect, be out of the press by the end of this year; and—not to speak of several hundred Burmans and Karens baptized at different stations—the Burmese church in Maulmain, of which I am pastor, contains ninety-nine native members, and there will doubtless be several more received before the end of the year. Unite with me, my dear mother and sister, in gratitude to God, that He has preserved me so long, and, notwithstanding my entire unworthiness, has made me instrumental of a little good.”
In a letter to his step-son, who had by this time arrived in America, he alludes to the infant Abigail, and encloses a child’s prayer in verse: