It is easier to go round the world than through it. But in going through it we are tempted to think perhaps that in solitude with its retirement, we can have more of God’s presence than in the busy scenes of life. This led me at the close of our voyage, going back with restored health to busy scenes, to resolve that I would endeavor to guard against the feeling that there are places or conditions to which God’s presence is confined. Not in the solitudes of ocean, nor in rural scenes, “neither in this mountain nor yet at Jerusalem,” need we be, to enjoy communion with God.
IN DOCK.
We left the Golden Fleece in a very narrow dock at Brooklyn, N. Y. It seemed humiliating to the noble ship to be warped among sloops and schooners into her berth; she appeared to be submitting to it as a strong man disabled and sick yields passively to nurses. The sailors, all who had not sprung ashore five minutes after the ship was docked, stood looking at us over the rails, some of them leaning on an arm, some resting their chins on the rails, after we had shaken hands with them, with a long farewell.
FIRST IMPRESSIONS ON REACHING LAND.
It was a pleasant morning in spring when we set out in the cars from New York to Boston. Having been a hundred and sixteen days on the water since leaving Manila, we were prepared to appreciate the solid earth. The privilege of walking and not coming to the ship’s rail every few minutes, was vividly felt. I hardly enjoyed anything in detail, when first on land again; every thing was absorbed in the one consciousness of being on the solid earth. “Then are they glad because they be quiet,” says the sacred penman, describing the sailors’ feelings, on reaching shore.
It was a windy day when we reached Boston. Clouds of dust filled the streets. It was not so at sea. It occurred to me, How do these people endure such discomfort? It seemed to me that they must find sufficient comforts on land, notwithstanding the dust, to make existence tolerable. I soon found that there are things to be enjoyed on land as well as at sea.
Language fails me in attempting to describe the experience of arriving home and of being at home, after an absence of nineteen months on ship board. We are willing, too willing, perhaps, to fancy resemblances in earthly occurrences to possible scenes of terror hereafter; but let us make our joyful experiences foretokens of heavenly bliss.
SUBSEQUENT EXPERIENCE OF OUR SHIP.
It had a powerful effect upon our company to hear that shortly after our safe arrival, laden with such experience of the divine goodness, a singular calamity happened to the ship. She came round to Boston in charge of the first officer, the captain having concluded to retire from the sea. She loaded with ice, and sailed for Bombay. In a few days after leaving port, fire was discovered in her lower hold, ascribed to a spark from a cigar or pipe, while loading. She put into Halifax, where fire engines nearly filled her with water. After a long detention at Boston for repairs, she went to sea. We were made to feel that our safety through our long voyage and our happy arrival were not accidents; we recalled moments when a slight change in our affairs would have been followed with disaster; it was sealed afresh upon our hearts that we were under obligation to the providential care of God never to be forgotten, always to be mentioned with humbleness of mind, with thanksgiving and praise.