Henry Martyn
August 30. In prayer, after mentioning before the Lord the state of India, and His promise for the conversion of all men,2 and the lack of success his faithful servants had met with, I said that I, a poor feeble worm, should certainly be swallowed up and lost in the difficulties, unless God should show to the world that He still reigns.
The hope, that the Lord might perhaps be pleased to make use of me, inspired me with great ardour and I sat down to consider the subject; I could not see that anything was to be done till I had learnt by actual contact with the people of India, to enter into their minds and views. Only in this way could I learn to answer the objections they would make to the truths of the gospel. I read some chapters of Acts, to see how the apostles addressed ignorant heathens; and afterwards Brainerd’s description of the difficulties which attended his mission. But this is outward; my soul lacks the spirit of prayer. The work is easy to God. The Lord awaken me to spiritual earnestness!
September 1. A very melancholy Sabbath. I continued very ill the whole morning, and indeed the whole day; I got into my bunk about 7 and, being a little more at ease, sought communion with God. At different times of the night, as I lay awake, I experienced the consolations of God – not so great as to give me joy, but enabling me to suffer with tranquillity. On the whole, I have reason to adore His mercy that my spirit has not been tried as three weeks from today. I longed to die, rather even than be well and be with my friends. Death was the best consolation I could find, as I had not enough of the presence of my heavenly Friend to be able to rejoice at suffering for Him.
September 3. A day of bitterness and distress. What I suffer is only the common evils of life. All I can say is: The Lord have mercy on me! I would rather be cut in pieces than deny my Saviour, by forsaking this part of His work which He assigned me.
After dinner, got nigh to God in prayer, but if I got on a little, I was at once carried back where I left off. My soul was influenced with something of ardour to be doing the Lord’s work. I am not anxious about life. There is reason to fear lest the Lord in wrath should send me back to England, as unworthy to proceed on so high an errand. But rather may He graciously fit
1Taken, with editing, from Journals and Letters of the Rev Henry Martyn BD. Martyn (1781-1812) was a noted English missionary to India and Iran who made a major contribution to Bible translation in these countries. He died at the age of just 31. This extract from his journal comes from the time of his voyage to India in 1805.
2Presumably Martyn is referring to the promises in the Bible of worldwide conversion.
me for it, if it is His will! After being on board for seven weeks, we are not yet west of Ireland. But were I blessed with a humble, contented mind – as I desire to be – no earthly trifles would move me. “I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. . . . I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” At night I resolved, in the strength of God, to make an effort to rise above present afflictions, and be happy and contented in God. Felt much returning joy and peace.
September 4. I was taught in my prayer today the necessity of living by faith. It was a relief to my soul to declare to God my utter insufficiency for all good, and to obtain contentment and joy in His service must be the gracious gift of His Holy Spirit. With this I felt a very serene assurance that God would work all my works in me, that I should be created anew in Christ Jesus unto good works. Read Galatians and meditated. It was then suggested to me: Think no more of anything but suffering in this life; you are an exile from your native country and friends; do not think of seeing them anymore.
Major D had been giving me an account of what would be my situation in India. I sat musing upon it on deck, without being able to find one single ray of comfort, but what should come from the presence of God. It was now in vain to look forward to anything on earth. In mute astonishment therefore I looked forward and surveyed the scene. The pleasures and comforts of this life, such as are allowed to God’s children, I was entirely excluded from them. After a little time, I quietly looked upon this as my portion and made up my mind to expect nothing but suffering every day. The thought was not so overwhelming, but it solemnised my mind exceedingly, and I felt weaned from the world to a degree I never experienced before.
September 5. Rose without strength or spirits to dress myself. As long as I could sit in my cabin, I passed about three hours, in reading and prayer. I found many of the psalms in exact unison with my feelings, and this was a great comfort to me, as I found that some of the children of God had been in circumstances as distressed as mine. In the afternoon I could do nothing but sit holding my head in my cabin. Here I was assaulted with a sense of guilt, lest I was giving way to laziness, in not stirring up myself to pray and labour for God. After 10 I revived considerably in my spirit.
In prayer I saw reason to be humbled for the vain-glorious desire I had shewn to manifest my contempt of death, but now I find it impossible to approach God except as the most abject of creatures. My grief is that I cannot set my affections upon things above. The world in a particular form has a hold upon my soul, and the spiritual conflict is consequently dreadful. Only such assurances as, “Without Me ye can do nothing”, could support me from sinking into deep despondency. God will not cast off His people. I am
now in the fire, fighting hard. O for strength to carry me through! Outward and inward trials threaten to destroy me, but I will put my trust in God. “I shall yet praise Him, who is the health of my countenance and my God.”
September 6. The storm continued to increase during the night. Two of the sails were torn to pieces. The violence of the wind in the rigging and the confusion on deck prevented me sleeping. I was chiefly led to think of the many poor souls in the ship; the thought of them reminded me of my own lukewarmness and unfaithfulness; but all this only made me feel more deeply the necessity of the Redeemer’s righteousness. At night, when the wind abated, I read Whitefield’s journal and, observing how he acted on such an occasion, I was cut by it to the heart at the sense of my lukewarmness.