I WONDER if any of the dear young readers who have shown so much interest in my true story of the life and labors of a missionary, who has been called by many "The Apostle of Burmah," are getting a little tired of its many chapters? Well, my task is almost done, for little more remains to be told. The shadows of life's evening were gathering fast round the honored head of Mr. (then Dr.) Judson; and the once full, rich voice that had so often preached Christ to crowds of eager Burmese listeners was so weak and broken that it could seldom be raised above a whisper. Rest and Home were very near, but it was the rest of being forever with the Lord; the home to which he was going was in the Father's house.
When Dr. and Mrs. Judson reached Ava they found new troubles awaiting them. The old king was dead, and though the heir to the throne received them kindly and gave them leave to live in Rangoon, Dr. Judson was told that, though he would be quite free to teach any English or American children who lived at Rangoon, or preach the gospel to their parents, the new king would not allow any of his subjects to become Christians, and did not wish the missionaries to speak to them or give them books.
All this was, we may be sure, very discouraging; but it was a comfort to remember that the God of all grace would still, in His own time and way, carry on His work in Burmah. He did not feel that he ought to leave the few native Christians, who, though often called upon to suffer for Christ's sake, kept steadily on, so he made up his mind to remain at Rangoon, doing what he could. If he must not go among the people he loved so well, the Lord was, he knew, well able to bring to him any who really wished to know what they must do to be saved.
He was very busy, too, with a piece of work which he wished very much, if according to the will of God, to finish. You may remember reading of the long years of work it had cost him to give the Burmese the Bible in their own language. And again he was just as hard at work, spending many hours every day at his desk, sometimes busily writing, at others reading and making corrections in printed sheets brought to him by a native helper from the printing-room at the back of the mission premises.
He was working away at a Burmese and English Dictionary. But Millie looks up with a quick glance of wonder, saying, "Well, I do not know however he could have had the patience to write a whole dictionary—I find half a page of one quite enough to learn for a lesson, and I think it is rather a stupid kind of book.”
Well, Millie dear, I know the dictionary is not at all a favorite book with most of my young friends. Indeed, I sometimes hear it called very unkind names by those who forget what a useful servant the much-abused book is; for it is only as we take a little trouble to find out the real meaning of words that we are any richer for our knowledge of them.
I think, too, that Dr. Judson had learned a lesson many of us are slow to learn, that it is not so much the kind of work we are doing, as the way and spirit in which it is done, that gives it its true value; and seeing as he did how greatly such a work would help in writing or translating other books for the Burmese, he bent over its pages with the joy of knowing that even in this seemingly uninteresting task he was serving the Master he loved so well.
And day by day the Lord gave His faithful servant tokens of His blessing and approval. There were several Burmese inquirers; three or four new converts, "not fearing the wrath of the king," confessed Christ by baptism. Though during the day the mission-house was often closely watched by government officers, yet under cover of darkness parties of Karens would come from their far-away homes to ask for gospels or tracts, or to tell the missionary that they, too, were trusting in Christ, and asked to be counted among His disciples.
Month after month he worked patiently on, till at last the first part of his dictionary, a book of six hundred pages, was finished. The next day he began the second part, saying as he did so, “I shall not be surprised if I do not live to finish it; men almost always leave unfinished some work which they or their friends have been very anxious about. All is well—it may be God's way of showing us that He can do without His workmen.”
He worked on till late one November evening, then the pen fell from his powerless hand, and Mrs. Judson saw that her husband was very ill. Days of great pain and weakness followed, but through all he was calm and happy in soul, often saying to his wife, "Oh, the love of Christ, the love of Christ; I cannot tell you how precious it appears to me now." One day he said, "I am not tired of my work, and I have been very happy with you and the dear children; but when Christ calls me home I shall go, oh so very gladly.”
The doctor thought sea air might do him good, and after some delay he consented to try a short sea voyage. He was then too weak to walk or even stand alone, but native Christians carried him on board a small ship lying in the harbor. After a tearful “goodbye,” Mrs. Judson and the children returned to the mission-house, only Mr. Ramsey, a brother missionary, and a Burmese servant going with the sufferer.
After sailing, the attacks of severe pain from which he had suffered much before leaving Burmah came oftener and lasted longer. One evening he seemed a little better, and said to Mr. Ramsey: "I am glad you are here; it is a great comfort to me to have one who loves Christ near me now—we are one in Him, our precious Savior.”
“I trust you feel He is near you now," Mr. Ramsey said gently, as he bent over his dying friend.
“Oh yes, it is all right there; but the pain at times is very great," Dr. Judson answered feebly. Through the night he grew weaker, and about noon the next day he said in Burmese to his servant, "All is done—I am going home. Take care of your poor mistress; be very kind to her." And soon after fell peacefully asleep in Christ, April lath, 1850, at the age of sixty-two.
That evening there was a funeral at sea—the body of the worn-out missionary was committed to the deep, a sacred trust to be restored when the Lord shall come for His own in the air; for them also which sleep in Jesus shall God bring with Him. (1 Thess. 4:1414For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. (1 Thessalonians 4:14).) And if the voice of Mr. Ramsey faltered at times as he thought of the deep sorrow with which the news of Dr. Judson's death would be received at Rangoon, he thought, too, of the joy that was now his, the joy of being forever with the Lord, and went bravely through with the simple service.
And now, dear young friends, my task is done. I have tried, and I trust not in vain, to interest you in the simple record of trials and triumphs, joys and sorrows among the heathen. Together we have followed, in our thoughts, Dr. Judson all the way from the happy home of his boyhood to far-distant Burmah. We know a little of his sufferings while a prisoner at Ava; something, too, of his joy over the first Burmese converts. And now, as I say a loving good-bye to my readers, I would say to each, Are you on the Lord's side? Are you sheltered by the precious blood of Christ? If you can answer "Yes" to my question, I know you will be among those of whom it is written: "Him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down with my Father in his throne." (Rev. 3:2121To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down with my Father in his throne. (Revelation 3:21).)
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