The annexed extracts are from his correspondence with Messrs. Corrie and Brown:
“I have just come out of my chapel, where, with my little flock, I have once more resumed my duties. The infrequency of my appearance among them of late has thinned them considerably; and this effect, which I foresaw, is one of the most painful and lamentable consequences of my withdrawing from them; but it is unavoidable, if I wish to prolong my life. My danger is from the lungs: though none of you seem to apprehend it. One complete service at church does more to consume my strength and spirits than six days of the hardest study, or bodily labour. Pray for me, my dear brother, that I may neither be rash nor indolent.”
“You mention a letter enclosed, but none came. The intelligence, however, intended to be conveyed by it, met my delighted eyes. Thomason is coming! This is good. Praise be to the Lord of the harvest, for sending out labourers! Behold how the prayers of the society at Calcutta have been heard. I hope they will continue their supplication; for we want more yet, and it may please God yet further to bless us. You cannot leave Calcutta by the middle of November, and must therefore apply for one month’s extension of leave. But you are unwilling to leave your flock; and I do not wonder, as I have seen my sheep grievously dispersed during my absence. Uncertain when I may come amongst them, they seldom come at all, except the ten or twelve who meet one another. My morning congregation increases as the cold weather advances, and yesterday there seemed to be a considerable impression. I spoke in a low tone of voice, and therefore, did not feel much fatigue;—after the Hindoostanee service I was very weak; but at night tolerably strong again. On the whole, my expectations of life return. May the days thus prolonged be entirely His who continues them! and may my work not only move on delightfully, but with a more devout and serious spirit!”
“Your letter from Buxar found me in much the same spiritual state, as you describe yourself to be in: though your description, no doubt, belongs more properly to me. I no longer hesitate to ascribe my stupor and formality, to its right cause: unwatchfulness in worldly company. I thought that any temptation arising from the society of the people of the world, at least of such as we have had, was not worthy of notice: but I find myself mistaken. The frequent occasions of being among them of late, have proved a snare to my corrupt heart. Instead of returning with a more elastic spring to severe duties, as I expected, my heart wants more idleness, more dissipation. David Brainerd in the wilderness,—what a contrast to Henry Martyn! But God be thanked that a start now and then interrupts the slumber. I hope to be up and about my Master’s business; to cast off the works of darkness, and to be spiritually-minded, which alone is life and peace. But what a dangerous country it is that we are in; hot weather or cold, all is softness and luxury; all a conspiracy to lull us to sleep in the lap of pleasure. While we pass over this enchanted ground, call, brother, ever and anon, and ask ‘is all well?’ We are shepherds keeping watch over our flocks by night: if we fall asleep what is to become of them!”
“Last Friday we had the happiness and honour of finishing the four gospels in Persian. The same evening I made some discovery respecting the Hebrew verb, but was unfortunately so much delighted, that I could not sleep; in consequence of which, I have had a head-ache ever since. Thus even intellectual joys are followed by sorrow: not so spiritual ones. I pray continually that order may be preserved in my heart; that I may esteem and delight most in that work, which is really most estimable and delightful, the work of Christ and his apostles. When this is in any measure the case, it is surprising how clear and orderly the thoughts are on other subjects. I am still a good deal in the dark respecting the objects of my pursuit; but have so far an insight, that I read both Hebrew and Arabic with increasing pleasure and satisfaction.”
“I scarcely know how this week has passed, nor can I call to mind the circumstances of one single day; so absorbed have I been in my new pursuit. I remember, however, that during one night I did not sleep a wink. Knowing what would be the consequence the next day, I struggled hard, and turned every way, that my mind might be diverted from what was before it;—but all in vain. One discovery succeeded another, in Hebrew, Arabic, and Greek, so rapidly, that I was sometimes in almost ecstasy; but after all, I have moved but a step: you may scold me if you please, but I am helpless. I do not turn to this study of myself, but it turns to me, and draws me away almost irresistibly. Still I perceive it to be a mark of a fallen nature to be so carried away by a pleasure merely intellectual; and, therefore, while I pray for the gifts of his Spirit, I feel the necessity of being still more earnest for His grace. ‘Whether there be tongues they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away; but charity never faileth.’ Yesterday my mind was mercifully kept free the whole day: and I ministered without distraction, and moreover without fatigue. I do not know when I have found myself so strong. The state of the air affects me more than any thing else. On Saturday, I completed my twenty-eighth year. Shall I live to see another birth-day?—it will be better to suppose not. I have not read Faber yet; but it seems evident to me that the XIth of Daniel, almost the whole of it, refers to future time. But as the time of accomplishing the scriptures draws on, knowledge shall increase. In solemn expectation we must wait, to see how our God will come. How interesting are his doings! We feel already some of that rapture wherewith they sing above, ‘Great and wonderful are thy works, Lord God Almighty! just and true are thy ways, thou king of saints!’”
“I did not write to you last week, because I was employed night and day, on Monday and Tuesday, with Sabat, in correcting some sheets for the press. I begin my letter, now, immediately on receiving yours of last week. The account of your complaint, as you may suppose, grieves me exceedingly; not because I think that I shall outlive you, but because your useful labours must be reduced to one quarter of their present amount; and that you may perhaps be obliged to take a voyage to Europe, which involves loss of time and money. But, O brother beloved! what is life or death? Nothing, to the believer in Jesus. ‘He that believeth, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and he that liveth, and believeth in me, shall never die. The first and most natural effect of sickness, as I have often found, is to cloud and terrify the mind. The attention of the soul is arrested by the idea of soon appearing in a new world; and a sense of guilt is felt, before faith is exercised in a Redeemer: and for a time this will predominate; for the same faith that would overcome fear in health, must be considerably strengthened to have the same ascendency in sickness. I trust you will long live to do the work of your Lord Jesus. My discoveries are all at an end. I am just where I was; in perfect darkness, and tired of the pursuit. It is, however, likely that I shall be constantly speculating on the subject. My thirst after knowledge is very strong; but I pray continually that the Spirit of God may hold the reins; that I may mind the work of God above all things; and consider all things else as merely occasional.”
The preceding extracts show the progress of Martyn and Sabat in their translations, the debility of Martyn’s health, and the new temptations of study which were presented to his mind. In March 1809, a large place of worship was opened, but he was not permitted to enjoy many services in it, as he was sent by the East India Company to be chaplain at Cawnpore, almost four hundred miles from Dinapore, and seven hundred from Calcutta. This journey he performed at the hottest season of the year; for two days and nights he travelled without stopping, during which time the wind seemed to him like flames, and he lay in his palanquin almost insensible. A lady of Cawnpore, speaks as follows of his tour:
“The month of April, in the upper provinces of Hindoostan, is one of the most dreadful months for travelling throughout the year; indeed, no European, at that time, can remove from place to place, but at the hazard of his life. But Mr. Martyn had that anxiety to be in the work which his heavenly father had given him to do, that, notwithstanding the violent heat, he travelled from Chunar to Cawnpore, the space of about four hundred miles. At that time, as I well remember, the air was as hot and dry as that which I have sometimes felt near the mouth of a large oven;—no friendly cloud, or verdant carpet of grass, to relieve the eye from the strong glare of the rays of the sun, pouring on the sandy plains of the Ganges. Thus Mr. Martyn travelled, journeying night and day, and arrived at Cawnpore in such a state, that he fainted away as soon as he entered the house. When we charged him with the rashness of hazarding his life in this manner, he always pleaded his anxiety to get to the great work. He remained with us ten days, suffering considerably at times from fever and pain in the chest.”
At Cawnpore there was no church, or regular worship. Soon after his arrival, Martyn preached to the soldiers in the open air, when, such was the heat, although before sunrise, that many dropped down as they stood around him in ranks. He adopted the same course of public services as at Dinapore, and continued to superintend the Arabic and a new Persian translation of the New Testament, as the first one was found too imperfect for publication. These duties occupied his whole time, excepting when his duties occasionally required him to take journeys to distant towns.