As there was every prospect of succeeding in the application he had made for an Indian chaplaincy, he began to prepare for his departure, by taking leave of his friends in Cornwall. This was, of course, a severe trial. He was to bid farewell to country and friends, to sisters, and a lady to whom he was still more tenderly attached, with the prospect of never again seeing them in this world. To a person of his amiable and domestic disposition, such a separation was full of distress. Besides, he was going to reside in another, and far distant continent, in a climate so hot, that it always weakens, and is often fatal to the constitutions of natives of cooler countries. The people with whom he expected to live, were uneducated, poor, vicious, and idolatrous. Having never been instructed in Christianity, his task would be to overcome, if possible, the prejudices in favour of their own superstitions, which they and their ancestors had cherished for centuries; and to persuade them to adopt a religion which would oblige them to give up their dearest sinful enjoyments. Ignorant of each other’s language, he would be obliged to study theirs, although one little known to Europeans, and extremely difficult to be acquired. These discouragements are mentioned, not to exalt the praises of Martyn; for had he been a perfect man, they would have appeared too insignificant to affect him at all, but to show that God gives strength to those who serve Him, and depend upon Him, proportionate to their trials and necessities; that his grace can enable a man to do actions of benevolence, which no other influence could; and that the sacrifices which Martyn made, are a proof of the reality of religion, as well as of the sincerity of his own profession. Let the person who is now reading this page, stop here, and ask whether he would be willing to leave his parents, friends, and home to-morrow, and go to live amongst a population of half-savage people, sixteen thousand miles from his home, and spend the whole of his life in teaching them to read, and persuading them to believe the gospel; to be all this time subject to abuse and ridicule, from most of these people; to be exposed to weak health and early death, and to do all this, merely and solely because, if a single one is converted, it would promote the glory of God by bringing one more soul to acknowledge Him, and make that soul happy for ever. Let the reader, who has now his eye upon these words, seriously ask what would induce him or her to do this; and then think, if you are not willing at once to act thus, what it is that is wanting in you. You will find that religion is indeed a reality: that the Bible is indeed true, which declares that God will surely make willing and able, all who put their trust in Him, to perform whatever his providence calls them to do. If you profess to be a follower of Christ and to seek the advancement of his kingdom, are you doing all you can for this object, or are you waiting for the judgment, supposing that Christ will acknowledge a professed, but unprofitable servant?
CHAPTER IV.
From Cornwall, Mr. Martyn returned to Cambridge, where he continued to assist Mr. Simeon in his church. Although distressed with the consciousness of his sinfulness, and unworthiness to be a minister of Christ, he had comforts also, which assured him that he had an interest in his Divine Redeemer: so that he could confidently say, “I wish for no service but the service of God;—to labour for souls on earth, and to do his will in heaven;” and at another time, “O hasten the day when I shall come to thee; when I shall no more be vexed, and astonished, and pained, at the universal wretchedness of this lost earth. But here would I abide my time, and spend and be spent for the salvation of any poor soul; lie down at the feet of sinners, and beseech them not to plunge into an eternity of torment.” It will be instructive to copy here some pages from his letters and diary, in which he wrote down the state of his feelings at this period.
“We should consider it as a sign for good, my dearest S——, when the Lord reveals to us the almost desperate corruption of our hearts. For, if he causes us to groan under it, as an insupportable burden, he will, we may hope, in his own time give us deliverance. The pride which I see dwelling in my own heart, producing there the most obstinate hardness, I can truly say my soul abhors. I see it to be unreasonable, I feel it to be tormenting. When I sometimes offer up supplications, with strong crying to God, to bring down my spirit into the dust, I endeavour calmly to contemplate the infinite majesty of the most high God, and my own meanness and wickedness. Or else I quietly tell the Lord, who knows the heart, that I would give him all the glory of every thing, if I could. But the most effectual way I have ever found, is to lead away my thoughts from myself and my own concerns, by praying for all my friends; for the church, the world, the nation; and especially by beseeching, that God would glorify his own great name, by converting all nations to the obedience of faith;—also by praying that he would put more abundant honour on those Christians whom he seems to have honoured especially, and whom we see to be manifestly our superiors. This is at least a positive act of humility, and it is certain that not only will a good principle produce a good act, but the act will increase the principle. But even after doing all this, there will often arise a certain self-complacency which has need to be checked; and in conversation with Christian friends, we should be careful, I think, how self is introduced. Unless we think that good will be done, self should be kept in the back ground, and mortified. We are bound to be servants of all, ministering to their pleasure as far as will be to their profit. We are to ‘look not at our own things, but at the things of others.’ Be assured, my dear S—— that night and day, making mention of you in my prayers, I desire of God to give you to see the depth of pride and iniquity in your heart, yet not to be discouraged at the sight of it: that you may perceive yourself deserving to be cast out with abhorrence from God’s presence; and then may walk in continual poverty of spirit, and the simplicity of a little child. Pray, too, that I may know something of humility. Blessed grace! how it smooths the furrows of care, and gilds the dark paths of life! It will make us kind, tender-hearted, affable, and enable us to do more for God and the gospel, than the most fervent zeal without it.”
“Sept. 30th, 1804.—My mind, this morning, easily ascended to God, in peaceful solemnity. I succeeded in finding access to God, and being alone with him. Could I but enjoy this life of faith more steadily, how much should I ‘grow in grace,’ and be renewed in the spirit of my mind. At such seasons of fellowship with the Father, and his Son Jesus Christ, when the world, and self, and eternity, are nearly in their right places, not only are my views of duty clear and comprehensive, but the proper motives have a more constraining influence.”
“Oct. 28th.—This has been in general a happy day. In the morning, through grace, I was enabled by prayer to maintain a calm recollection of myself,—and what was better, of the presence of my dear Redeemer. From the church I walked to our garden, where I was above an hour, I trust with Christ, speaking to him chiefly of my future life in his service. I determined on entire devotedness, though with trembling; for the flesh dreads crucifixion. But should I fear pain, when Christ was so agonized for me? No,—come what will, I am determined, through God, to be a fellow worker with Christ. I recollected with comfort, that I was speaking to the great Creator, who can make such a poor weak worm as myself ‘more than conqueror.’ At church I found by the attention of the people, that the fervour of my spirit yesterday had been conveyed into my sermon. I came to my room, rejoicing to be alone again, and to hold communion with God.”
“Dec. 9th.—This has been in general a sweet and blessed day,—a foretaste of my eternal sabbath. Preached on the third commandment: in the afternoon on the tenth. Rode back to Cambridge, feeling quite willing to go any where, or to suffer any thing for God. Preached in Trinity church, on Ezek. xxxiii. 11. ‘Say unto them,—As I live saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked: but that the wicked turn from his way and live: turn ye, turn ye from your evil ways; for why will ye die, O house of Israel?’ It was pleasant to me to think of being alone again with God.”
“Jan. 1, 1805.—Hitherto hath the Lord helped me. It is now about five years since God stopped me in the career of worldliness, and turned me from the paths of sin:—three years and a half since I turned to the Lord with all my heart:—and a little more than two years since he enabled me to devote myself to his service as a missionary. My progress of late has become slower than it had been: yet I can truly say, that in the course of this time, every successive year, every successive week, has been happier than the former. From many dangerous snares hath the Lord preserved me: in spite of all my inward rebellion, he hath carried on his work in my heart; and in spite of all my unbelieving fears, he hath given me a hope full of immortality;—‘he hath set my foot on a rock, and established my goings, and hath put a new song in my mouth, even praises to my God.’ It is the beginning of a critical year to me: yet I feel little apprehension. The same grace and long suffering, the same wisdom and power, that have brought me so far, will bring me on, though it be through fire and water, to a goodly heritage. I see no business in life but the work of Christ, neither do I desire any employment to all eternity but his service. I am a sinner saved by grace. Every day’s experience convinces me of this truth. My daily sins and constant corruption leave me no hope, but that which is founded on God’s mercy in Christ. His spirit, I trust, is imparted, and is renewing my nature; as I desire much, though I have attained but little. Now to God, the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, would I solemnly renew my self-dedication, to be his servant for ever.”
“I could not help reflecting on the almost supernatural fervour and deep devotion which came upon me, whilst I declared that I had rightfully no other business each day but to do God’s work as a servant, constantly regarding his pleasure.” “My thoughts were full of what God would do for his own glory, in the conversion of multitudes to himself in the latter day. I did not wish to think about myself in any respect, but found it a precious privilege to stand by, a silent admirer of God’s doings.”