Chalmers observes, in a sermon preached at an Anniversary Missionary meeting, held in the High Church in Edinburgh: "What the man of liberal philosophy is in sentiment, the missionary is in practice. He sees in every man a partaker of his own nature, and a brother of his own species. He contemplates the human mind in the generality of its great elements. He enters upon the wide field of benevolence, and disdains those geographical barriers by which little men would shut out one-half of the species from the kind offices of the other. His business is with man, and let his localities be what they may, enough for his large and noble heart that he is bone of the same bone. To get at him he will shun no danger, he will shrink from no privation, he will spare himself no fatigue, he will brave every element of heaven, he will hazard the extremities of every clime, he will cross seas, and work his persevering way through the briars and thickets of the wilderness. In perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by the heathen, in weariness and painfulness, he seeks after him. The cast and the color are nothing to the comprehensive eye of the missionary. His is the broad principle of good-will to the children of men. His doings are with the species, and, overlooking all the accidents of climate or of country, enough for him if the individual he is in quest of be a man—a brother of the same nature—with a body which a few years will bring to the grave, and a spirit that returns to the God who gave it. The missionary is a man of large and liberal principles."
These characteristics, enumerated by the warm and large, and generous-hearted Chalmers, dwelt richly in her whose biography we have tremblingly attempted to portray. She knew little of the soothing influences of nature and solitude. Her life's work was spent in this city, so cosmopolitan, composed, almost, of every creed and color under heaven.
After restoration to health, the great purpose of her life was joyously resumed. And at this time we have an opportunity of knowing thoroughly, and weighing precisely, the opinions of her parishioners regarding her, for when she began to resume her labors she found that the dear ones she had brought to Jesus were kindly inquiring about her. Surely, it is good to be missed, when either laid aside by sickness or called away by death.
How precious are the promises of God's Word, amid domestic difficulties and trials. The relations of the home circle are such that, unless there is the utmost harmony and good-will, one toward another, everything seems to go wrong. Hence, the importance of the injunction of the Apostle, "Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers." Her own domestic happiness was constantly preserved. They told me on the steamer, during a summer excursion, "that during the forty-seven years of their wedded life, they never needed to be reconciled." And the secret of their joy at home, even when they commenced housekeeping, was that they erected the family altar, and established a church in the house. Conceive, then, her feelings of gratitude to God, when she learned that the young Roman Catholic wife, unfortunate in her marriage, who was badly treated by her husband, was greatly comforted through the prayerful perusal of the Bible. Her deep feelings of moral sensibility enabled her to truly sympathize with her own sex in their home troubles.
Her intense love for the children was a magnificent trait in her character. Why? Because she felt the significance that attaches itself to the sayings of Christ, bearing on the children. His authority must be recognized. He said: "Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven." There is a beautiful passage in Isaiah, that illustrates how tenderly God cares for the little ones:
"He shall feed his flock like a shepherd; He shall gather the lambs in His bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with young."
"Whoso," said Jesus, "shall receive one such little child in my name, receiveth me."
There are too many instances in our daily experience where the children are sadly neglected, and where they are looked upon as little heathens, and discouraged in their endeavors to follow Jesus in early life. It should be the constant care of parents and Sunday-school teachers to take the children to Him who will in no wise cast them out. Who can look into the clear, bright, blue eyes of a little boy or girl, and not see in their countenance a holy radiance expressive of trustfulness, innocence, and affection? It is no wonder, then, that Jesus said: "Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye can in nowise enter into the kingdom of heaven."
"Are you looking unto Jesus?" she said. Where can we look for a more important searching question to shadow forth the indispensable necessity of not only this consumptive man, but all men, whether in health or sickness, to renounce all other methods of trying to get to heaven, but by "looking unto Jesus." No change of character can take place in any other way. "Look unto me and be ye saved, all ye ends of the earth, for I am God, and beside me there is none else." They looked unto Him and were lightened. "O! it is easy to look to the hills from whence cometh our help," when the Holy Spirit is working upon the heart. But ah, it is a tremendously difficult task to perform when the poor sinner is bereft of this divine power.