But her own idea of the comparative happiness of her two lives, may be best gathered from her poetry, for it is a characteristic and charm of her verse that it is the pouring forth of her deepest feelings at the moment when they swayed her soul with strongest influence. We extract a few verses from a poem written at Rangoon, during that period of great physical suffering to which we have alluded, but of which Dr. Judson writes: "My sojourn in Rangoon, though tedious and trying in some respects, I regard as one of the greenest spots, one of the brightest oases, in the diversified wilderness of my life. If this world is so happy, what must heaven be?"
TO MY HUSBAND.
"Tis May, but no sweet violet springs In these strange woods and dells; The dear home-lily never swings Her little pearly bells; But search my heart and thou wilt see What wealth of flowers it owes to thee.
The robin's voice is never heard From palm and banyan trees; And strange to me each gorgeous bird, Whose pinion fans the breeze; But love's white wing bends softly here, Love's thrilling music fills my ear.
The pure, the beautiful, the good, Ne'er gather in this place; None but the vicious and the rude, The dark of mind and face; But all the wealth of thy vast soul Is pressed into my brimming bowl.
Here closely nestled by thy side, Thy arm around me thrown, I ask no more. In mirth and pride I've stood—oh so alone! Now, what is all this world to me, Since I have found my world in thee?
Oh if we are so happy here, Amid our toils and pains, With thronging cares and dangers near And marr'd by earthly stains, How great must be the compass given Our souls, to bear the bliss of heaven!" |
As to the sacrifice of her literary taste and reputation, this is so far from the fact, that we may assert without fear of contradiction, that the world never knew her best excellence as a writer, till it was startled, as it were, by her deathless utterances, wafted by east winds from her Indian home. Her memoir of her predecessor, and her appeals for Burmah, have thrilled thousands of hearts that knew nothing of her "Alderbrook;" and her "Bird," has, perhaps, awakened in many a mother's heart its first deep appreciation of the holy responsibilities of maternity. The Christian world gained much, the literary world lost nothing, when Fanny Forester became a missionary.
But her harp is idle now, and its loosened strings will wait long for a hand to tune and draw from them such soul-moving cadences as we have been wont to hear. In purer air she sweeps a nobler lyre; and methinks her song may well be, "Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord; even so, saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labors, and their works do follow them."
FOOTNOTES:
[12] See her touching allusion to that suspense in the thirteenth and fourteenth verses of her poem, "Sweet Mother," page 336.
[13] These are no idle words, for, says the New York Recorder, "Her love for the missionary enterprise found expression in an act, by which she, being dead, will long speak through the living heralds of the cross. By her will, as we learn from an authentic source, after providing for the comfortable maintenance of her aged parents and the support and education of her daughter and the other children of Dr. Judson, with a small portion to each as they reach maturity, and a few bequests to personal friends, whatever may remain of her property is given to the cause for which she wished to live, in the same spirit that her venerated husband so consistently exemplified. She was solicitous that the children left in her guardianship should lack no good that a Christian parent could desire beyond this, and the fulfillment of filial duty, her single aim was the furtherance of His kingdom to whom her heart was supremely loyal and her life unreservedly devoted.
It is interesting to learn, from the same authority, that the youngest of Mrs. S.B. Judson's five children, a boy of eight years, has been adopted by Professor Dodge, of Madison University; and her own daughter, by Miss Anable, of Philadelphia, one of the warmest friends of Mrs. E.C. Judson. The other children are pursuing their education under different guardians.
Transcriber's Notes:
The illustrations on page 2 were originally near the beginning of the book, but the transcriber does not know exactly where.
On page 363, it is unclear where the quote ends in Footnote 13.