HAVE told you many things that you will, I hope, remember about some of the different kinds of work that made Mr. Judson's life in Burmah such a busy one; but I do not want any of you to run away with the idea that when a Burman had believed the gospel the work of the missionary was done. In one sense it had only just begun, for, though we know from the word of God that the Lord Jesus Christ always loves and will never lose one of His own sheep (John 10), still the native converts needed much patient, loving care to lead them on in the things of the Lord. Perhaps a true story will help you to understand what I mean.
One day a Burmese woman, who had been a Christian for about two years, went to Mr. Judson to ask his advice about something she very much wished to do, but which he saw at once would be very wrong for her, as it might lead her to dishonor the name of Christ, and perhaps in the end even tempt her to return to the worship of idols. He told her just what he felt about it; but though she listened to his faithful words, he saw she still wished to have her own way.
Taking a ruler from the table, Mr. Judson made a rather crooked line on the mud floor of the zayat. Pointing to it with his finger, he said to the weeping woman, “Look here, look here! this is where you have been walking: very often you have got out of the right path, but you have kept near it, you have not gone far away; you have grown in grace, though not so much as you might have done, and you know more than when you started of how good the Lord is. You know, too, where this path leads; you know that after only a few more sorrows, a few more trials, it will end in glory, and you will be with your Savior.
“Now you have come to a place where two paths meet—one is narrow, the other is broad. Will you, dare you, go right out of the narrow path? You think you will only go a very little way out of it, and you will soon come back to it; but I tell you, you will not, you may never even be able to find it again. Will you, dare you, give it up?”
Some years after, the woman, then an active and useful Christian, herself told the story, adding, "I could not speak, for I was crying bitterly; but the dear teacher knelt down and prayed that God would give me grace to walk in the narrow path. And very many times since, when I have been tempted to do what I knew to be wrong, I have seemed to hear his voice, saying, ‘Will you, will you, will you?'”
Mrs. Judson, too, was very busy, far too busy to write many letters to her friends in America, though I think a peep into one or two of those she did write will help us to understand a little about her work. In one she says: “Yesterday twenty-six Burmese came to see me. Several begin to ask very thoughtful questions about the way of salvation, and nearly all ask me to read the Bible to them. The little ones play nearly all day, and amuse themselves while I am busy writing. The room where I sit is open to the road, so natives very often stop and talk to me.
“The other day I looked up from my work and saw a man standing by the door and looking in. I asked him if he wanted anything.
“He said he had been watching me write. At once the thought came into my mind, perhaps this man may be one of the Lord's dear chosen ones, and he may have been guided here to hear the gospel. So I invited him in, and we had quite a nice long talk about the truth. He told me he would pray to the true God to teach him to believe in His Son Jesus Christ, of whom he says he never heard till to-day. He is a trader, and lives in his boat; but coming on shore to-day was led, he could not tell why, to walk this way—I pray that it may be for the salvation of his soul.”
We all know what it means to get tired, do we not? Even boys and girls, who are getting ready for the real work of their lives, often find their sums hard or their lessons difficult to understand; and I think we sometimes forget that getting tired and giving up do not mean quite the same thing.
Perhaps just a few of my young friends may remember reading how patiently and bravely Mr. Judson, when a boy of not more than ten years old, had worked at a very troublesome sum till it came right. It will not surprise them much to hear that as a man he undertook a far larger and more important piece of work—the translation of the whole Bible into the language of the Burmans.
Early and late he was at the desk, sometimes writing, at others reading, with tired eyes and aching head, the strange-looking letters written on palm leaves, I have already told you about. Sometimes he would stop for a moment, then there was a light in his eyes and a smile on his face that seemed almost to say, “Yes; I have found something worth all the trouble I have taken; worth, too, the precious hour I have spent looking for it.”
What had he found? Why, just some word or phrase that would help him in making the real meaning of God's word more clear to his much-loved Burmans. And then with a thanksgiving and a prayer for guidance and help, he would bend once more to his task.
What is Harry saying? "That it must have taken Mr. Judson a long time to translate the whole Bible.”
Yes; it did indeed take a very long time. Twenty-one years had passed from the time Mr. Judson first landed in Burmah before the Bible in their own language was ready for the use of the native Christians.
But as he looked at the first printed copy glad tears filled his eyes, and his head bent low in silent prayer. He was thanking God for the mercy that had kept him through so many dangers and allowed him to finish so great a work.
Mrs. Judson, too, who knew the language of the Burmans almost as well as if she had spent her whole life among them, did good work as a translator; we know she loved the children dearly, and it always gave her great pleasure to do anything for them. She wrote or translated several books for the use of her girls' school, and many a Burman child has learned its first Bible lessons from her "Scripture Questions and Answers.”
But again the shadow of death fell darkly over the mission-house. One day Mrs. Judson, who had been out some hours teaching school in a neighboring village, was met on her return by her husband, who told her, in a voice broken by sobs, that little Henry was dying.
Could it be true? The bright little boy who only that morning had been so full of life and spirits, who had kissed such a loving good-bye to his mother, could he be dying?
She hurried to the room where he lay. Yes; it was true, her darling Henry, the pet of the household, lay pale, cold and gasping for breath.
With anxious hearts they watched the little sufferer through the night. All that love and care could do were done, but in vain. The sick child grew worse, and for some hours did not seem to know either parent; towards morning he opened his eyes and smiled at his father, then one sigh, and all was over—his body lay cold and lifeless on the bed, but his spirit was with the Savior, who long ago had taken little children in His arms and blessed them. (Mark 10:1616And he took them up in his arms, put his hands upon them, and blessed them. (Mark 10:16).)
The next day the body of their much-loved child was laid in the mission burial ground, and though Mr. and Mrs. Judson felt his loss very much, they were enabled, through grace, to say with all their hearts: "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”