“When I last wrote, I was in the latter part of Acts; since that time, I have done nothing at all. For ten days or a fortnight we were laid by with fever, unable to help one another; and since we became convalescent, I have been occupied in making up my mind to have my right arm amputated, and my right eye extracted, which the doctors say are necessary in order to prevent a decay and mortification of the whole body conjugal.”
His letters written to his wife during her absence betray here and there a sinking even of his buoyant spirits:
“September 5, 1821. I hope you enjoy more religion than I do. This heavy affliction does not have that salutary effect on my heart which I anticipated. Mercies and judgments seem to be thrown away on me, and I am afraid that I shall never make much advance in the divine life. I had such a view and sense of my depravity this morning as made me ready to give up all for lost—not, I mean, as it regards my interest in Christ—there I feel strong—but as it regards any attainments in holiness, while remaining in this state of sin.
“Oh! how consoling it is to give up myself, and you, and the interests of the mission, into the faithful hands of Jesus, and to look forward to that blessed state, where we are sure of meeting, though we should meet no more on earth. The Lord reigns, and I feel, at times, that I can safely trust all in His hands, and rejoice in whatever may betide. If we suffer with Christ we shall also be glorified with Him.
“September 12. Company continued with me until after three o’clock; and then I found myself alone, and, for a few hours, was very desolate and unhappy.
“But about sunset, the time mentioned in your last letter for mutual prayer, I felt more comfortable.”
“I wish I could always feel as I did last evening, and have this morning. At first, on hearing Moung Shwa-gnong’s story, I felt much disheartened, and thought how pleasant it would be if we could find some quiet resting-place on earth, where we might spend the rest of our days together in peace, and perform the ordinary services of religion. But I fled to Jesus, and all such thoughts soon passed away. Life is short. Happiness consists not in outward circumstances. Millions of Burmans are perishing. I am almost the only person on earth who has attained their language to such a degree as to be able to communicate the way of salvation. How great are my obligations to spend and be spent for Christ! What a privilege to be allowed to serve Him in such interesting circumstances, and to suffer for Him! The heavenly glory is at hand. O, let me travel through this country, and bear testimony to the truth all the way from Rangoon to Ava, and show the path to that glory which I am anticipating. O, if Christ will only sanctify me and strengthen me, I feel that I can do all things. But in myself I am absolute nothingness; and when through grace I get a glimpse of divine things, I tremble lest the next moment will snatch it quite away.
“Let us pray especially for one another’s growth in grace. Let me pray that the trials which we respectively are called to endure may wean us from the world, and rivet our hearts on things above. Soon we shall be in heaven. O, let us live as we shall then wish we had done. Let us be humble, unaspiring, indifferent equally to worldly comfort and the applause of men, absorbed in Christ, the uncreated Fountain of all excellence and glory.”
Even while on the journey to her dear native land, Mrs. Judson cast “a longing, lingering look behind.” It was hard to leave Rangoon, even to go to America. In a letter to Dr. Baldwin, dated Calcutta, December 8, 1821, she writes:
“I left Rangoon last August, and arrived in Calcutta on the twenty-second of September. My disorder gained ground so rapidly, that nothing but a voyage at sea, and the benefit of a cold climate, presented the least hope of life. You will readily imagine that nothing but the prospect of a final separation would have induced us to decide on this measure, under circumstances so trying as those in which we were placed. But duty to God, to ourselves, to the Board of Missions, and to the perishing Burmans, compelled us to adopt this course of procedure, though agonizing to all the natural feelings of our hearts. On my arrival in Calcutta, inquiries were immediately made relative to a voyage to America. But, to my great disappointment, I found most of the American captains far from being disposed to take passengers, on account of having their cargoes engaged to the extent of the tonnage of their vessels. One captain, however, offered to give me a passage for fifteen hundred rupees, but I could not think of causing the Board so great an expense. In mentioning my circumstances to Mrs. Thomason, (lady of the Rev. Mr. Thomason, chaplain,) she suggested the advantages of a voyage to England, on account of the superior accommodations, medical advice, and female passengers in English ships. The pious captain of a ship bound to England was then residing in her family; with him she consulted, and they made arrangements for my passage for five hundred rupees, provided I went in a cabin with three children, who were going to England. As my only object in going to sea is restoration of health, I did not hesitate to secure a passage, though I should have rejoiced (since I must take a long voyage) to have gone direct to America. The father of the children has since arrived in Calcutta, and has very kindly offered to pay the whole price of the cabin (which is four thousand rupees), which will enable me to go to England, free of expense to the Board. If the pain in my side is entirely removed while on my passage to Europe, I shall return to India in the same ship, and proceed immediately to Rangoon. But if not, I shall go over to America, and spend one winter in my dear native country. As ardently as I long to see my beloved friends in America, I can not prevail on myself to be any longer from Rangoon than is absolutely necessary for the preservation of my life. I have had a severe struggle relative to my immediate return to Rangoon, instead of going to England. But I did not venture to go contrary to the convictions of reason, to the opinion of an eminent and skilful physician, and the repeated injunctions of Mr. Judson.”