The number of persons on these occasions, sometimes amounted to eight hundred, composed of Mohammedans and Pagans. And though it was natural for them to be very respectful and attentive, in the supposition that their ill behaviour might cause Martyn to refuse them charity, yet it was evident that many were really interested in the new doctrines he taught them. They sometimes made sensible remarks in assent to what he declared; or kept entire silence, as if deeply thinking on it. They were very much moved, at one time, when, after detailing the history of God’s judgment on Sodom, the preacher suddenly applied the subject to themselves—
“Do you too,” he said, “repent of your sins, and turn to God. For though you are not like the men of Sodom,—God forbid!—you are nevertheless sinners. Are there no thieves, railers, extortioners, among you? Be you sure that God is angry. I say not that he will burn your town, but that he will burn you. Haste, therefore, out of Sodom. Sodom is the world, which is full of sinners and sin. Come out, therefore, from amongst them; forsake not your worldly business, but your sinful companions. Do not be like the world, lest you perish with them. Do not, like Lot, linger; say not, to-morrow we will repent, lest you never see to-morrow; repent to-day. Then, as Lot, seated on the hill, beheld the flames in safety, you also, sitting on the hills of heaven, shall behold the ruins of the world without fear.”
But his health beginning to suffer, from his labours and the heat of the climate, he was, with great reluctance, compelled to give up this portion of his services. He wrote to his friend, Mr. Simeon, “I read your letter, of 6th of July, 1809, cautioning me against over-exertion, with the confidence of one who had nothing to fear. This was only three weeks ago. Since the last Lord’s day, your kind advice was brought home to my mind, accompanied with painful regret that I had not paid more attention to it. My work last Sunday was not more than usual, but far too much for me, I can perceive. First, service to his Majesty’s fifty-third regiment, in the open air; then at head-quarters; in the afternoon, preached to eight hundred natives; at night, to my little flock of Europeans. Which of these can I forego? The ministration of the natives might be in the week: but I wish to attach the idea of holiness to the Sunday. My evening congregation, on Sunday, is attended by twice as many as in the week-day; so how can I let this go?”
He was assisted for some time by Mr. Corrie, from Calcutta, and once more attempted to address the beggars; but his weakness, and other symptoms of declining health, increased so much, that it became necessary for him to leave Cawnpore. At first, he determined to visit England for a short time, thinking that he could there best renew his strength; but he afterwards concluded to visit Persia and Arabia, that he might collect the opinions of the learned natives, respecting the accuracy of the translation of the New Testament into those tongues, the first of which was supposed to be written in a style not likely to be understood by the common people, and therefore not yet published, and the last being still unfinished.
On the first of October, 1810, he left Cawnpore for this purpose, thus connecting the pursuit of health with his great missionary enterprise. As at Dinapore, he left this station just as a new church was completed, in which he had the happiness of preaching the first sermon, the day before his departure. On his voyage down the Ganges to Aldeen, he visited the part of the army he had before served; but most of those of whom he had cherished the strongest hopes, had neglected his warnings, and were ashamed to see him. Nine only came to his boat, where he sang, prayed with, and exhorted them. At Aldeen and Calcutta, he enjoyed the society of his dear friends, the missionaries, and preached frequently, though exceedingly weak. One of his sermons was an appeal to the Europeans, on behalf of the nine hundred thousand natives of India, who possessed Christianity in some form, but were destitute of the Scriptures; “many of them,” as he said, “relapsing fast to idolatry, and already, indeed, little better than heathens.”
“Mention not their meanness; it is yours to raise them from degradation. Despise not their inferiority, nor reproach them for their errors; they cannot get a Bible to read. Had they been blessed with your advantages, they would have been, perhaps, more worthy of your respect. It has been said with too much truth, that they scarcely deserve the name of Christians. How is it possible that it should be otherwise, without the Bible, when it is considered how little oral instruction they receive.” The sermon concluded with this address:
“Imagine the sad situation of a sick or dying Christian, who has just heard enough of eternity to be afraid of death, and not enough of a Saviour to look beyond it with hope. He cannot call for a Bible to look for something to support him, or ask his wife or child to read him a consolatory chapter. The Bible, alas! is a treasure which they never had the happiness to possess. O pity their distress, you that have hearts to feel for the miseries of your fellow creatures; you that have discernment to see, that a wounded spirit is far more agonizing than any earth-begotten woes; you that know that you too must one day die, O give unto him what may comfort him in a dying hour. The Lord, who loves our brethren, who gave his life for them and for you, who gave you the Bible before them, and now wills that they should receive it from you, he will reward you. They cannot recompense you, but you shall be recompensed at the resurrection of the just. The King himself will say to you, ‘inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”
This sermon was printed in Calcutta, and contributed essentially to the institution of the Calcutta Bible Society, and the liberal support it received.
His last discourse was in January 1811, from the words of our Saviour, “One thing is needful;” after which he left India, never more to return, though hoping to recover his health and spend the remainder of his life there.
“I now pass,” he wrote, “from India to Arabia, not knowing the things that shall befall me there, but assured that an ever-faithful God and Saviour will be with me in all places, whithersoever I go. May he guide me and protect me, and after prospering me in the thing whereunto I go, bring me back again to my delightful work in India. I am perhaps leaving it to see it no more; but the will of God be done; my times are in his hand, and he will cut them as short as shall be most for my good: and with this assurance, I feel that nothing need interrupt my work or my peace.”