Through His instruments He calleth, humble tho' they be and weak,
That the deaf ears may be opened and the sealed lips may speak,
That the maimed may halt no longer, and the blinded eyes may see,
And the lepers, healed and cleansed, glorifying God may be.
Ignorance and sin are blindness, but as morning after night
Is the heart's regeneration when God says, "Let there be light."
The following account has been selected from Sybil Jones's journal. It was written to be published soon after their return, but publication was delayed, and now for the first time it is made public. It will show, as few other writings, the emotions and strivings of a sincere seeking soul. Her journals speak little, especially in her earlier visits, of natural surroundings and ordinary events, for her spiritual work seemed so weighty that nothing was allowed to turn her eyes from that:
So. China, 12 mo., 1850. Painful are the baptisms that my poor trembling soul tries to endure patiently. Forgive me, most gracious God, if I dare repine. Death seems again lingering on our borders, and the remnant of a once large family must soon diminish. My worthy father seems drawing near the silent grave, but full of bright hopes of a mansion in the eternal city. Though well knowing that the "Judge of all the earth" will do right, yet sad is the thought that soon we must lose his cheerful society and instructive counsel. Oh that this deep affliction may prove a salutary cup to the soul, though very bitter to the taste! I learn many awful lessons while sitting by his bedside. It is a foretaste of heaven sweetly blended with a hope of reunion around the throne. My soul is weighed down with the prospect of more extended service in the cause of our holy Redeemer, and lingers tremblingly on Jordan's banks. Oh, this Jordan seems awful, but I must descend to its bottom, and may the eternal God be my refuge, and underneath the everlasting arms! The billows overwhelm, and I sink in deep mire where there is no standing. My health is frail and my spirits flag. But amid all, the unchanging Rock is my support.
1st mo., 1851. With the unity of my friends I performed some errands of love in some portions of our own yearly meetings. I went forth in fear and much weakness, but through abounding mercy the peace of God fills my heart. In the course of this visit I had a very interesting public meeting in Nantucket. My spirit had long lingered around that little island of the sea, and sweet was our communion together in the love and power of truth. Dear father met me joyfully and expressed great thankfulness for being permitted to meet me again below. He said his soul was filled with a Saviour's love, and he longed to go home to his heavenly rest, to join with saints and angels in singing the song of Moses and the Lamb for ever and ever. It was a time of blessed communion. My mind is deeply impressed with the language uttered frequently in my inward ear: "Go offer a sacrifice similar to my servant Abraham's;" which causes great fearfulness to come upon me, and a sense of utter unworthiness and inability for such a momentous work, feeling the least and last of those who name the great Name.