Mr. Judson, who had been warned by his physicians against speaking in public, could only express his thankfulness in a few simple and touching words. Subsequently, in the course of the convention, the proposition was made to abandon the mission in Arracan. This brought him to his feet. “Though forbidden to speak by my medical adviser, I must say a few words. I must protest against the abandonment of the Arracan mission.” These opening words were audible to all present. Then his voice sunk into a whisper as he stated the reasons why the mission should not be given up. His closing words were: “If the convention think my services can be dispensed with in finishing my dictionary, I will go immediately to Arracan; or if God should spare my life to finish my dictionary, I will go there afterward and labor there and die, and be buried there.” It would be impossible to describe the thrilling effect upon the audience of these broken words, uttered in a low whisper, and reproduced by Dr. Cone. The Arracan mission was saved.
While Mr. Judson was visiting Bradford, the native town of his beloved Ann, he learned of the death of Charlie, one of the little ones whom he had left behind in Burmah. He conveys the sad intelligence to his sons Adoniram and Elnathan, and adds:
“So it appeared that Charlie died twenty-six days before his mother, and he was ready to welcome her at the gates of Paradise. They must have had a very happy meeting. As he was her favorite child on account of being long ill, how happy she must have been to take him in her arms in that state where there is no more sickness or death! O that we may all meet them and be so happy together!”
A few of the addresses which Mr. Judson delivered while in this country have been preserved, and the reader may be interested in the appended extracts.
Address at a Missionary Meeting in Philadelphia.
“Be ye imitators of me, as I am of Christ, is a divine command. There is one Being in the universe who unites in Himself all the excellences of the human and divine nature—that being is Jesus Christ. To become like Jesus Christ, we must be like Him, not only in spirit and character, but in the whole course and conduct of life; and to become like Him ought to be our whole aim. In order to this, it is necessary to ascertain the leading characteristics of that glorious Being. It appears from the inspired writings, that one leading characteristic of Christ was, that ‘He went about doing good.’ To be like Him, we must go about—not merely stay and do good, but go and do good. There is another characteristic which we should consider. He led the life of a missionary. In order, therefore, to be like Him in this particular, we must endeavor, as far as possible, to lead the life of missionaries. Before my arrival in Burmah, there were about seven millions of men, women, and children, who had no knowledge of the true God, and of salvation through Jesus Christ. They did not believe in the existence of an eternal God. They believed that when they died they would be changed into beasts, or be annihilated. Their only object in worship was to obtain some mitigation of suffering. They never expected to meet their friends again after death. Imagine yourselves, my Christian friends, in their state without a knowledge of God. Suppose, while in that state, you heard that in some isle of the sea were those who had received a revelation, informing them that God had sent His own Son to open a way to everlasting life; would you not rejoice, if some one should come to show you that way to heaven? Would not some of you believe? Would you not leap with joy, and kiss the feet of those who brought you the good tidings? Would you not, under these circumstances, desire that a messenger should come to you? ‘As ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them.’ I should rejoice to address the assembly at large, but my physicians have forbidden me, and I must commit this duty to others who are to follow. But allow me to say, that I regard the office of the missionary as a most glorious occupation, because the faithful missionary is engaged in a work which is like that of the Lord Jesus Christ; and a missionary who is unfaithful sinks the lowest of his species in guilt and ignominy. Happy are they who can in this respect follow Christ. But the Lord Jesus is not now a missionary. He has retired from this employment, and now employs Himself in sustaining His missionaries, with the promise, ‘Lo, I am with you alway, even to the end.’ If you can not, therefore, become a missionary, sustain by your prayers, your influence, and your property, those who are. In these ways Jesus Christ now sustains them. By His prayers, as Advocate and Intercessor with the Father; by His influence, as He is vested with all power in heaven and earth; by His property, by pouring out fresh supplies of His Spirit, and opening the hearts of His children to contribute. In order, therefore, to be like Christ, go about doing good; and if it is not in your power to give yourselves to this work, give your prayers, your influence, and your property. So far as we are like Christ in this world, so far shall we be like Him through eternity. So far as we sustain this cause, which is peculiarly the cause of God, so far shall we be happy through endless ages.”
At a meeting in Washington, D. C., he said:
“When he first visited Burmah, the idea of an eternal God was not believed nor entertained by any of the Burmans; and nothing more than this idea was entertained by the Karens; but now the former had in their own language the whole Word of God; and the New Testament, and parts of the Old, had been translated, by American missionaries, into several other languages of the East. He spoke of our missions as expensive, as requiring much for the outfit of missionaries, and for sustaining them in that field; but sacrifices of a pecuniary character were not the only or the greatest ones to be encountered. There was the sacrifice of domestic and social comforts here enjoyed, and the sacrifice of life. He remarked that the average life of American missionaries to the East was only about five years. But we must have men and money for this work; and we must all co-operate and make sacrifices together. If men were found willing to go, the Church at home should feel willing to send them out, and support them, that they might give themselves wholly to their work. Dr. Judson said that his heart was full, and it was a great privation to him that he was not able to speak out, and unburden himself, to the satisfaction of himself and of the audience; but this the providence of God prevented him from doing, and he must submit.”
And at a meeting in Utica, N. Y.:
“When mingling in scenes like the present, and like that in which he participated on the preceding evening, at which he believed some then listening to him were present, he was led into trains of meditation which excited the most deep and subduing emotions. At such times he involuntarily recalled many spots memorable in his history. One of these was the prison at Ava, to which allusion had already been made. In that gloomy place, on one night when he was more heavily fettered and was enduring more suffering than usual, he rose from the painful posture in which he reclined to lean, for an interval, against the wall. As he cast his eyes around upon the mass of wretchedness before him, he was able, by the dim light which was always kept burning in the prison, to observe the condition of the miserable beings among whom he was confined. It was an appalling sight. About a hundred condemned felons were before him, some sentenced for murder, all for atrocious crimes. While looking on that spectacle, he felt that if ever, by God’s mercy, he should obtain his freedom, he would endeavor to bear without repining the ills he might be called to endure. Another spot brought to his recollection was that where he stood to witness the worship of the Bengalee Juggernaut—not the great Juggernaut of Orissa—for there are several in India—but one in the province of Bengal. The idol car moved onward. Before him, extending as far as the eye could reach, was a vast expanse, a sea of human heads. The whole concourse of deluded worshippers were shouting as with one voice. Again his mind reverted to a scene that fell under his observation, not many years since, in the Karen jungles. It was one of the festivals of the Karens. He saw three hundred persons, prostrate upon the earth, men, women, and children, promiscuously mingled, covered with filth, in a state of brutal intoxication—a spectacle not to be described to a Christian audience. Scenes like these forced themselves upon his recollection, in view of our places of worship and happy homes. When coming among us, and seeing the contrasted comfort, elegance, and refinement, that make our dwellings so inviting and their inmates so happy, the question spontaneously arose, What is the cause of all this difference? O, it is the Gospel—the Gospel! While surrounded with these manifold blessings, we could but very imperfectly appreciate the sole cause of them all.