Chapter 5

"The Christian community sends you forth, dear brethren, as messengers from our churches to the heathen. In the name of our churches we bid you _God speed_. The very act of our sending you forth in the name of the church implies that we hold ourselves bound to the same cause. By these public services we are solemnly pledged to regard you as a part of ourselves, not the less dear certainly because distant, your very distance being occasioned by your attachment to the common interests of the church. You have a just claim upon your Christian brethren in America for their prayers, their sympathies, and such a supply of your temporal necessities as will enable you to prosecute your great work. We are confident that, if all the members of our churches were convened in one place, they would unanimously sustain us in expressing these reciprocal obligations.

"Still, brethren, you must be sensible that the manner in which these pledges shall be redeemed will depend much upon the grace which is vouchsafed from above. If the spirit of piety should become low in our churches; if jealousy should divide their efforts; if professed Christians should generally become more entangled with this world,--the missionary enterprise of the country will be enfeebled. We would not distress you with apprehensions of this kind further than is requisite to call forth your earnest, constant, and importunate prayers that God would not leave our churches to a retrograde movement, which, in the present circumstances of the world, would be a most deplorable event.

"Confiding in that Savior who gave himself for the church and who loves it with an everlasting love, we affectionately commend you to his protection and blessing. When he, as the great Shepherd, shall gather his sheep into one fold, may you, and we, and multitudes of heathens saved by your instrumentality, be numbered among his chosen; and to him shall be glory everlasting."

The next morning the missionaries, with their wives, embarked on board the ship Corvo, for Calcutta. On the wharf the hymn was sung and the prayer offered; and the vessel swung off from the wharf amid the prayers and tears of the spectators. The vessel had a safe passage, and all the attention of Captain Spaulding was given to render the voyage pleasant and cheerful.

Mrs. Elizabeth Hervey, the wife of Rev. William Hervey, was born in Hadley, Massachusetts, and was the daughter of Deacon Jacob Smith, a beloved Christian and an estimable citizen.

During her early years she was remarkable for a prevailing desire to do good to others. Her young heart seemed set upon the work of benefiting her fellow-creatures; and she would make any sacrifice to confer happiness upon those around her. Though her heart had not been renewed and her mind made acquainted with the high and holy motives of the gospel, yet she recognized her obligations to others, and, while quite a child, endeavored faithfully to discharge them.

When she became a Christian, this desire to do good assumed a new and more divine form, and she exerted herself to lift up the race and adorn humanity. Her pastor, under whose ministry she was converted, says, "Doing good was her delight and her life. The subject of missions, years before she saw Mr. Hervey, was the great theme of her soul. She was alive to it at every point, and her memory will long be cherished here."

In the years 1815 and 1816 a sweet and gentle revival of religion was enjoyed in Hadley. Devoid of much of the excitement, the outward exhibitions of feeling, which such occasions bring, the living heart of the people was touched, and in all the homes of the inhabitants was felt and realized the heavenly results. In this revival Miss Smith became a child of God. Though amiable and outwardly virtuous, she became convinced that she needed a radical change such as she had never experienced. Still she made the sinner's excuse and fled to the sinner's refuge. One useless habit after another was given up, one sin abandoned, and one new step in virtue taken; but the wounded spirit found no rest. At length the cross appeared--the Savior's cross. She saw it--realized that by it she must be saved, if saved at all. With all a dying soul's deep earnestness she fled for safety and laid hold on the everlasting hope. The great salvation became her life, and in firm hope she embraced the Lord Jesus Christ.

In 1816 she united with the Congregational church in Hadley, and during her sojourn in this country maintained a consistent walk and conversation. She was emphatically a growing Christian--one who advanced in holiness, as the sun grows brighter when the day advances.

After her acquaintance with Mr. Hervey commenced, the question of a missionary life was laid out before her. She had often pondered upon it and prayed God to open the effectual door before her; and when the opportunity was presented, her heart warmly responded to the call from Heaven. That she had some trials and misgivings upon the subject cannot be doubted; but these were swallowed up in the desire to do good to her fellow-creatures. Though it required an effort to leave home and friends, she met the trial with unshaken firmness and devotion. Not long before they sailed for Bombay her husband preached a sermon, in which he gave expression to his own desires to promote the glory of God. In these expressions his heroic companion doubtless united; and though she could not publicly declare her own determination, doubtless her heart was united with his, not only in the social relations of life, but also in the firm and holy efforts for the elevation of our race. In that sermon, which we believe to have been the expression of the feelings of the fallen wife, Mr. Hervey says,--

"Besides the various objects in your own town and country which may have a claim on your charity, there are many millions of your fellow-creatures abroad who have a still stronger claim; stronger, because their woes are deeper and their wants greater. I stand now to plead the cause of Christ, not in behalf of the suffering bodies of a few poor saints at Jerusalem, but in behalf of the undying souls of six hundred millions of poor, benighted heathen. O for the eloquence of an angel, that I might exhibit to you the unsearchable riches of Christ, and the inconceivable miseries of men who are living and dying without a knowledge of him, in such a light that every one of you should weep because you have not a thousand fold more wealth to give, ten thousand hearts to pray, and twice ten thousand hands to labor for their salvation! I have no doubt that such would be your feelings, if you could now see things in the light in which you will see them shortly. You would then see that the end of living in this world, which was redeemed with the blood of the Son of God, and which is full of sinners perishing for want of that gospel which you possess, was something else than to heap together wealth to pamper 'the lusts of the flesh, the lusts of the eye, and the pride of life.' But the riches of Christ eternity will be too short to unfold; and I have neither time nor ability to present to your minds any thing like an adequate conception of the miseries of the heathen. That they are living and dying without the gospel, is enough to give every believer in the Bible an affecting sense of their wretchedness.

"I have told you the story of the Lamb of God--pointed you to what he left and what he submitted to in order to raise men to the riches of his everlasting love. He has gone back to heaven and taken his throne again; but he has left a cause on earth that is dear to him as the apple of his eye, and all the attributes of his name stand pledged for its final triumph. This cause he has intrusted, in a very important sense, to his disciples--beings in whose nature he came and suffered; and without their instrumentality it never did, and never will, go on.

"Thus he gives you all the privilege of being co-workers with him in saving the heathen. If you are not permitted to go in person to carry them the gospel, yet you may be perhaps equally useful by your prayers, and by furnishing the means for sending those who shall preach to them the unsearchable riches of Christ. If, then, you would elevate the degraded heathen to the purity of Christians, send them the gospel. If you would rescue them, not only from their present wretchedness, but from their darker prospects in the world to come, and inspire them with the high hopes of eternal salvation, send them the gospel. If you would see them at the last day on the right hand of the Son of man, and hear their bursting praises to God for your liberality and prayers, which helped to bring them there, now show how high you value their souls by contributing to send them the gospel, and by your fervent prayers that the blessing of the Lord may accompany your bounty and make it the means of their salvation.

"If other motives than those which have been presented were necessary to encourage you in this good work, I might prove to you that you will be the richer for every sacrifice you make to promote the cause of Christ; if not richer in temporal, yet certainly in spiritual blessings. I might say to you, in the language of Him who cannot lie, who holds the elements in his hand and can command them to spare or destroy your wealth, to bless or blast the work of your hands, 'The liberal soul shall be made fat; and he that watereth shall be watered also himself.' 'There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty.' Or, in the words of Him who gave up all his wealth and his life for us, 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.'

"I have chosen to rest the cause which the Lord has now permitted me to plead in his name mainly on the one great argument in the text; for in the whole compass of the universe there is not a motive to benevolent action so commanding as that. And I am persuaded it has not been presented to your minds in vain. No, I have been addressing those who know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ; who feel thankful for that grace; and whose hearts burn within them to spread it abroad through the whole world.

"Is there one here who wishes to be excused from this work? Why, my brother, would you be excused? Look again. Is it no _privilege_ to be allowed to do something to promote that cause for which patriarchs, prophets, apostles, and martyrs have prayed, and toiled, and died? Is it no _privilege_ to help forward that cause which has engaged the hearts and hands of all the wise and good of every age? Is it no _privilege_ to be associated with the choicest spirits now on earth in promoting the sublimest, the most benevolent, the most godlike cause that ever did or can employ the hearts and hands of men? Is it no privilege to labor, and pray, and give for the advancement of that cause which awakens the deepest interest in the bosoms of all the heavenly host, and which is the occasion of their loudest and loftiest songs of praise? Is it no privilege to do something for Him 'who left the highest throne in glory for the cross of deepest woe,' in order to give men a place in the mansions of his love? Is it no privilege to be a coworker with the blessed God in rescuing souls from a course of eternal sinning and suffering, and raising them to everlasting holiness and happiness and glory? Is it no privilege to aid in forwarding the only cause for which the world was made and for which all nature stands? The man who does not esteem it a high privilege that he may do something to promote such a cause may have the name, but cannot have the heart, of a Christian. If, then, any one desires it, let him be excused. The cause will go on. It has many friends, and is rapidly gaining more. It has Omnipotence for its support. Jesus 'shall have the heathen for his inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for his possession.' He did not 'humble himself and become obedient unto death' for nought. 'He shall see of the travail of his soul and be satisfied.' 'All the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God.' 'The mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.'

"There is a mighty stir among the nations. The melting appeals from among the heathen have reached us from the four winds--'Come over and help us.' The person who addresses you expects, in a short time, if the Lord will, to preach the unsearchable riches of Christ to some of these distant heathen. He feels for the destitute in his own beloved land; but while he knows there are so many millions of immortal beings more destitute,--while he is to act under the commission, 'Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature,' and while so few who are better qualified can think it their duty to these unhappy beings,--he feels that 'woe will be unto him if he preaches not the gospel unto them!'"

Inspired with such feelings, and cherishing such views, our sister went out to declare the love of God on heathen soil. Like those who before her had devoted themselves to the service of the Savior, she went forth not knowing whither she went or through what scenes she would be called to pass.

But God in his divine providence was soon to call her home to glory; her work was to be short, and her course quickly run. A few months only was she permitted to do good as she desired ere death called her away to the rest beyond the grave. She fell an early victim to her own self-sacrificing disposition. Shortly after her arrival at Bombay she was prostrated by the dysentery, which terminated her labors and her sorrows on the 3d of May, 1831.

Her lonely husband, writing to the father of his deceased companion, gives the following account of her dying hours:--

"Before this reaches you I trust, you will have heard of the goodness of the Lord in bearing us safely over all the dangers of the Atlantic and Indian Seas, in providing us friends in Calcutta who spared no pains to make our stay in that city agreeable and happy, and in bringing us in safety to this, the destined field of our labors, our disappointments, our difficulties, and, as we expected when we left the shores of our native land, of our deaths. And although, since our arrival here, his afflicting hand has been laid heavily upon me, still I would speak only of his goodness. For when he afflicts and chastens his children, it is in loving kindness and tender mercy. It is not for his pleasure, but for their profit, that they may be partakers of his holiness. But if he has been good to me, he has been doubly so to your and my dear Elizabeth. Yes, God has made all his goodness to pass before her; for he has released her from all her sins and sufferings, and taken her to himself. 'O,' said she, 'how will the intelligence rend the hearts of my dear parents and sisters!' She paused a moment, and then added, 'But they will be supported. They know where to look for consolation.' Weep with me, my dear, dear parents, a little moment, and then we will together review the painful but merciful scene of her last sufferings.

"All that I have said above shows only the afflicting hand of God in this dispensation, which has snatched from me thus early the dear companion of my wanderings and toils, the tender partner of my joys and sorrows, the beloved wife of my heart; but in what remains to be said, will be seen his hand of _goodness_ and _mercy_. In all her sufferings she was never heard to utter a single murmur or complaint, but was continually magnifying the goodness of the Lord. 'I did hope,' said she, 'that I should be permitted to do something towards elevating the miserable and degraded females of India to a state of refinement and happiness; but since God decides otherwise, his will be done. In this great conflict, some must fall as soon as they enter the field.' She repeated more than once a sentence which Dr. Woodbridge dropped in his address to her on the evening of our marriage, in substance as follows: 'If we hear that, like Harriet Newell, you have fallen a victim to the climate of India even before you have commenced your labors there, still we say to you, Go.' 'Now,' said she, 'tell my friends, tell my beloved pastor, tell the dear church in Hadley, that I do not, and never have for a moment regretted that I came here. No; had I foreseen this hour, and all I have endured since I left America, I should have decided just as I did, if the path of duty had been as plain as it appeared to be.' During her sickness she often spoke of the love she felt towards the people of God. She was affected to tears at the kindness of her physicians and others who attended her. She addressed the members of the mission who called to see her on the importance of living to God and of being faithful in his service. She expressed an earnest desire that God would make her death the means of a revival of religion in all the members of the mission; and said, if such should be the case, she should consider her early removal a greater blessing to the mission and to India than many years of her poor service could be. The day before she died she requested me to read to her the twelfth chapter of Isaiah. 'Yes,' said she with emphasis, 'God is my salvation.' As I read along she repeated after me the third verse, emphasizing the word 'wells'--'with joy shall ye draw water out of the _wells_ of salvation.' Some time afterward she wished me to read the fourteenth chapter of John, which she said afforded her much comfort. She repeated from time to time many striking texts of Scripture and parts of hymns, which, as I could leave her only for a moment, I did not write down. Twice she repeated, and seemed to feel the full force of, that beautiful and sublime stanza of Watts,--

'Jesus can make a dying bed Feel soft as downy pillows are; While on his breast I lean my head, And breathe my life out sweetly there.'

"One who stood near her said, 'O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law.' With animation she exclaimed, in addition, 'But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.' Mr. Allen said he hoped the Savior would be with her as she walked through the dark valley of the shadow of death. 'If this,' she said, 'is the dark valley, it has not a dark spot in it--all is _light_, LIGHT.'

"I said to her, 'My dear, your sufferings are great.' 'Don't,' said she, 'don't mention them; they have been nothing--nothing.' After a severe spasm, that seemed to convulse her whole frame, she exclaimed, 'O the pains, the groans, the dying strife! The spirit seems to be struggling and fluttering to get free from this cumbersome body.' She had, during most of her sickness, bright views of the perfections of God. 'His awful holiness,' she said, 'appeared the most lovely of all his attributes.' At one time she said she wanted words to express her views of the majesty and glory of Christ. 'It seems,' she said, 'that if all other glory were annihilated, and nothing left but his lone self, it would be enough--it would be a universe of glory.'

"The day before her death she was asked if she wished to see her child. 'Not now,' said she; 'I am too much exhausted. I fear it would overcome me. I will see him by and by.' After she had rested a while, she said now she would see the babe. It was brought into the room. 'Let my husband,' she said, 'bring him to me.' I carried the child to her. She took it in one arm, and with the other embraced my neck. After a moment she looked up to the spectators with a smile, and said, 'Here is my family--my treasure--my earthly all. I cheerfully resign them into the hands of God.' On the morning of the day she expired I asked if she wished to send any particular message to any of her friends. She replied she did, and asked me to write what she dictated.

"Thus, my dear parents, I have finished the account of our beloved Elizabeth's last pains and joys in the flesh. Who can wish her back to earth? If any other one has reason to cherish such a wish, I have more. But severe as the stroke is upon me, I rejoice that her conflict with sin and suffering is over, and she is with her Redeemer. To know that she departed thus, triumphing in God her Savior, must afford you, as it does me, great consolation in the midst of the affliction which the news of her death will produce. But you, who knew her amiable disposition, her humble, prayerful, self-denying, holy life, have a better testimony that it is well with her now, than her dying deportment, whatever it might be, could give. She lived unto the Lord, she died unto the Lord; and there can be no doubt that she is now the Lord's.

"Last Sabbath evening Rev. Mr. Allen preached a sermon in the chapel, on the occasion of her death, from Romans xiv. 8. Since then I have learned that one careless man appears to have been awakened by the account that was given of her peaceful and triumphant death. Perhaps her prayers are about to be answered in a revival of religion here. The Lord grant that it may be so!"

When a beloved fellow-laborer dies at home; when the place of some dear one is vacated by death; when the hand of labor ceases to move and the heart of sympathy ceases to beat,--all around are saddened by the event: gloom covers the weeping church, and all who knew the fallen one bend in tearful silence over the grave. But when a missionary dies we can form no opinion of the feelings of those who are left in sorrow. Away from home and all the endeared scenes of early life, they become more strongly and firmly attached to each other. Between the members of the little band are formed the most tender ties, the most hallowed relations; and when _one_ only departs, all hearts grieve and bleed as if the dearest earthly object had been removed.

Mrs. Hervey was buried near the scene of her labors--on heathen soil. The solemn funeral service and the pang of death were calculated to deepen the impression upon the minds of the converted and unconverted people; and the hymn, as it sent its mournful echo along the borders of the field of graves and sounded like the song of an angel amid the homes of the living, turned many a thought forward to that haven where the saint shall break from the repose of death, and come forth to the resurrection of the just, a new and glorified form.

"Why do we mourn departing friends, Or shake at death's alarms? Us but the voice that Jesus sends To call them to his arms."

Did we not have implicit confidence in the ways of God and in his special providence,--did we not feel that he is too wise to err, too good to be unkind,--our hearts would often faint as we hear of our devoted missionaries falling into the grave ere they have been permitted to labor to any considerable degree for the conversion of the heathen. Did we not feel perfectly satisfied in relation to the wisdom and mercy of the great Head of the church, we might well fold our hands and ask, "Will God be angry forever?" But who does not know that Jehovah is able to accomplish more by our deaths than _we_ are able to accomplish by our lives? Who does not know that, from the very ashes of the tomb, he can send up a voice which will echo amid the shades of night and thrill the cold hearts of degraded men?

They who despond, as the tidings of woe come borne to us on almost every breeze which sweeps across the ocean, have lost sight of Him who holds in his hand the issues of life and the awful realities of death. These have drawn their eyes from the immutable promises and the ever-present Helper, and fixed them on the tomb, and the corpse, and the pale mementoes of mortality. They have ceased to reason like Christian men, and look at God's providence through the misty vision of scepticism and doubt.