“BUT one morning early in February, 1890," so wrote his sister, "the clang of the iron hammer was hushed; the glare of the furnace had faded, the last blast of the great bellows had been blown, and all was still and silent." Where was Mackay? Only the day before he had been busy in the workshop. In the evening he had helped his fellow-missionary, Mr. Deekes, whose health had completely broken down, to pack and make arrangements for his return to England. He had, he said, a cold, but it was only a cold, which he thought he had taken through getting over-heated, and then working knee-deep in water to finish some needed repairs on "The Eleanor." But the next day he was down with fever, and on the following day he was delirious. It was no common attack, and the worst was feared. His boys, who loved him dearly, were quiet and tearful. They moved about with silent footsteps and sad faces, and whispered to each other, "Will he die?”
They did what they could for him, but it would have taken a journey of hundreds of miles before a doctor or nurse could reach him. He was only ill four days, and then the home-call was given, and he passed peacefully away. For him all was well: no more toil, no more pain, no more sorrow, but the presence of the Lord he had loved and served so faithfully.
During his short illness he did not appear to suffer much pain, but was delirious nearly the whole time. He often spoke of Mr. Stanley, who he seemed to think was still his guest, and asked again and again if he and his party were being made comfortable. All his remarks during the four days he was ill were made in English. In his delirium more than once he threatened to leave the house and sleep in the forest.
His brother missionary, Mr. Deekes, wrote to his friends in Scotland: "I had a coffin made from planks he himself had cut for the boat, and at 2 p.m. we buried him by the side of one who had already fallen on the mission-field. I tried to read some passages of scripture, and offer a few words of prayer, but quite broke down through grief and weakness. Our boys, with a number of native Christians, stood round the grave and sang, with tears rolling down their cheeks, 'All hail the power of Jesus' name,' in Luganda, and we returned to the house. Never shall I forget that day and many others that followed it. God, and He only, knows how I miss my friend. Those were sad days. I dismissed the porters who had been sent to carry my loads to the coast, and prayed that God would give me strength to hold the post till others could arrive to carry on the work; and so far my prayer has been answered, for my health is much better, and more missionaries are, I hear, on their way to Uganda, and may arrive in about three weeks.” We may say of Alexander Mackay, that
“He labored awhile 'mid burning sands,
When the scorching sun was high;
He grasped the plow with a fevered hand,
Ere he laid him down to die;
But another, and yet another,
Has filled the deserted field,
Nor vainly the seed they scattered,
Where a brother's care had tilled.”
We may not understand why one so fitted for and devoted to the work of carrying the glad tidings of the gospel to the tribes living in what, not many years ago, was the darkest part of dark Africa should have been so early called from the service of earth to the rest of heaven; but we are sure, quite sure, that God knows best. He makes no mistakes, but doeth all things well.
The work of God in Uganda went on. Long and patiently Mackay and his fellow-laborers had toiled, sowing the good seed; many were the hearts in which it took root, and with the blessing of the Lord brought forth much fruit. The work of translating the Gospel by John, on which he had been engaged the night before his fatal illness came on, was completed by a fellow-missionary, and many of the portions of scripture he had printed found their way into far-away places, and were the means of leading many souls to Christ.
To-day there are schools and preaching-places in almost every town and village in Uganda. Whole tribes have thrown away their idols, and said they wanted to love and serve the true God. Nearly all the children in Uganda go to Sunday-school and sing the same hymns (translated into Luganda) to the same tunes we have at home.
Abler pens than mine have told the story of Alexander Mackay, but if through reading it one dear boy or girl is led to see the beauty of an unselfish, useful life, it will not have been rewritten in vain. Remember he was only a schoolboy when he yielded his heart and life to the Savior. We may not all be called to do some great work, but every life is full of opportunities; we can all do something to help or comfort others. Little things, if done from love to Christ, are precious in His sight, and may have results we never thought of or expected. "Even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure, and whether it be right.”
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