NINETEEN years had passed since Mrs. Judson, then in all the fair promise of her early womanhood, said "Good-bye" to her friends in America, and went to live in Burmah. Did she not long sometimes to see her father and mother again, both of whom were growing old? Yes; I am sure her heart often turned fondly to the home and friends of her early years. But her life in Burmah had been such a busy one that she never seemed able to spare time to take the long holiday that would have been needed to pay even a short visit to the land of her birth.
So she worked on, teaching in the school, holding Bible and other classes for native women and girls, copying books, writing letters for Mr. Judson, visiting the sick, guiding the house, nursing and teaching her own three children, and doing many other things. But day by day she grew paler and thinner; her step, too, was slow; and, though she did not complain of feeling ill, it was easy to see that she was weak and tired.
She had a bad cough, too. One day she looked so ill that Mr. Judson, feeling really anxious about her, sent for a doctor, who on seeing her said she must give up work at once. Indeed, she had gone on far too long for her fast-failing strength. Medicine would do her little if any good while she remained in Burmah. Only one thing seemed to him to hold out any hope of bringing back color to her pale cheeks or strength to her frail form.
A sea voyage might do her good, and if that could be followed by a nice long rest in the old farm-house that had been the home of her childhood, she might, he thought, return in about a year to her loved work among the heathen.
Mr. Judson felt he could not be away from the mission station so long, and so after praying that they might see the will of God clearly in the matter, it was arranged that he should go some distance with his wife, then leave her and the children to go to America, while he took passage on a ship bound for Rangoon. So Mrs. Judson got ready for her journey. She was indeed "near home," but it was not the one of her childhood. She was going to be with the Savior who had loved her and washed her from her sins in His own precious blood.
Thus, amid loving words of farewell from friends and native Christians, the mission party set out. The beach was crowded with Burmans, and the girls of Mrs. Judson's school pressed on board with tear-stained faces, bringing little gifts of fruit and flowers for their much-loved teacher. She had a smile and a kind word for each, and so they parted, little thinking that they were to see her no more on earth.
The ship put out to sea, and for some time Mrs. Judson seemed to gain strength daily; she was able to sit or lie on deck for several hours each day, and much enjoyed having a quiet time with her husband and children. Almost the last day they expected to spend together had come, when she became very ill, and Mr. Judson felt it would not be right to allow her to go on alone, so took their passages on board an American ship, sailing for Boston. But she was sinking fast; her children printed their last kiss on her pale lips, and her husband bending over her whispered gently, "We think you will soon be with your Savior.”
“What can I want beside?" the dying Christian replied with a smile; and just as the ship came within sight of the island of St. Helena, calmly fell asleep in Jesus.
Early the next morning, with flags half-mast high—a ship's mourning—the vessel entered port. The same afternoon Mr. Judson and his three motherless children stood by her newly-made grave. I cannot tell you how lonely and sad the tired missionary felt as he turned away, only God and his own soul knew how real and deep his grief was. But God's own precious word is full of comfort for those who mourn, and he could open his well-worn Bible at such words as: "But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him." (1 Thess. 4:13, 1413But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope. 14For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. (1 Thessalonians 4:13‑14).)
An hour or two later, he and the children were again on board ship, and that night they were once more on their voyage to America.
When they reached Boston every one wanted to see the man who, thirty years before, had gone to live and work for Christ in far-off Burmah. Some who remembered his going wished very much to talk to him about old times and old friends; while others, who did not know but had heard of him, were just as anxious to see the man who had been a prisoner at Ava, and whose long years of steady, patient work had given the people of that great empire a Bible in their own strange language.
Many friends, old and new, wished him to preach and address large meetings; but to all such requests his answer was that for some time, owing to weakness and loss of voice, he had found himself unable to do much in public.
Those who knew him best saw that all the attention he received gave him more pain than pleasure. He would often say, "If any good has been done, it is all the Lord's doing; I am only a servant, and a very poor one, too.”
One day he consented to say a few words at the close of a meeting where many hundreds were present. He spoke for about a quarter of an hour, telling his hearers in very simple, earnest words of the love of Christ, and asking any who were still unsaved to accept Him as their very own Savior.
The people listened with great attention; but when the meeting was over, a friend of Mr. Judson's said to him, "I am afraid the people were a little disappointed to-day.”
“Were they," replied Mr. Judson; "I am sorry, but as I know my voice is still weak, perhaps they could not all hear what I said.”
“No; I do not think there was any difficulty in hearing you," was the reply; "what I mean is, that knowing as they do that you have lived so long among the heathen and traveled so many thousands of miles, I think they rather expected you would tell them some interesting story.”
“Well, did I not tell them the most interesting of all stories?" he asked. "I told them as well as ever I could of One who loved them even unto death; of One who came all the way from heaven to earth to seek and save that which was lost.”
“Yes; I know that," said his friend; "but still, I think they expected something rather different.”
“Did they? Well, I am glad they did not get it; glad that they have gone away saying that a man who had traveled thirty thousand miles had nothing for them but the gospel. Besides," he added with deep feeling," I shall have to appear before the judgment-seat of Christ. When I meet my Master I should not like Him to say to me, ‘I gave you one opportunity of telling those people about Me, and you let it slip that you might talk about yourself and your doings.'”
Mr. Judson remained in America about a year. A few days before his return to Burmah he was united in marriage to Miss Emily Chubbock, a Christian lady who was at that time a well-known writer of books for the young. She had to give up much pleasant work, as well as to say "good-bye" to many loved ones, among others her aged father; but she saw how greatly Mr. Judson and his children needed her care and love, and the very need seemed to her like the voice of Christ bidding her go forth for His sake and in His strength.