Chapter II: Lydia Grenfell (2)

On my mentioning my desire of translating some of the Scriptures
with him, he advised me by all means to desist till I knew much
more of the language, by having resided some years in the
country. He said it was the rock on which missions had split,
that they had attempted to write and preach before they knew the
language. The Lord's Prayer, he said, was now a common subject
of ridicule with the people, on account of the manner in which
it had been translated. All these are useful hints to me.

The mode of appointing to Indian chaplaincies has varied so much since the time of Charles Grant and Simeon, that it is interesting to see what was done in Henry Martyn's case.

_1805, April 1._--Went to Lord Hawkesbury's office, but, being
too early, I went into St. James's Park, and sat down on a bench
to read my Bible. After a little time a person came and sat down
on the same bench; on entering into conversation with him I
found he had known better days. He was about seventy years of
age, and of a very passionate and disappointed spirit. He spoke
sensibly on several subjects, and was acquainted with the
Gospel; but was offended at my reminding him of several things
concerning it. On my offering him some money, which I saw he
needed, he confessed his poverty; he was thankful for my little
donation, and I repeated my advice of seeking divine
consolation.

_April 2._--Breakfasted with ----. Our conversation was on the
most delightful subject to me, the spread of the Gospel in
future ages. I went away animated and happy. Went with Mr. Grant
towards the India House. He said that he was that day about to
take the necessary steps for bringing forward the business of
the chaplains, and that by to-morrow night I should know whether
I could go or not. In prayer at night my soul panted after God,
and longed to be entirely conformed to His image.

_April 3._--After dinner, passed some time in prayer, and
rejoiced to think that God would finally glorify Himself,
whatever hindrance may arise for a time. Going to Mr. Grant's, I
found that the chaplaincies had been agreed to, after two hours'
debate, and some obloquy thrown upon Mr. Grant by the chairman,
for his connection with Mr. Wilberforce and _those people_. Mr.
G. said that though my nomination had not taken place, the case
was now beyond danger, and that I should appear before the court
in a couple of days in my canonicals. I felt very indignant at
this, not so much, I think, from personal pride, as on account
of the degradation of my office. Mr. G. pleasantly said, I must
attend to my appearance, as I should be much remarked, on
account of the person who had nominated me. I feel this will be
a trial to me, which I would never submit to for gain; but I
rejoice that it will be for my dear and blessed Lord.

_April 4._--Went down to Cambridge.

_April 6._--Passed most of the morning in the Fellows' garden.
It was the last time I visited this favourite retreat, where I
have often enjoyed the presence of God.

_April 7._ (Sunday.)--Preached at Lolworth on Prov. xxii. 17;
very few seemed affected at my leaving them, and those chiefly
women. An old farmer of a neighbouring parish, as he was taking
leave of me, turned aside to shed tears; this affected me more
than anything. Rode away with my heart heavy, partly at my own
corruption, partly at the thoughts of leaving this place in such
general hardness of heart. Yet so it hath pleased God, I hope,
to reserve them for a more faithful minister. Prayed over the
whole of my sermon for the evening, and when I came to preach
it, God assisted me beyond my hopes. Most of the younger people
seemed to be in tears. The text was 2 Sam. vii. 28, 29. Took
leave of Dr. Milner; he was much affected, and said himself his
heart was full. Mr. Simeon commended me to God in prayer, in
which he pleaded, amongst other things, for a richer blessing on
my soul. He perceives that I want it, and so do I. Professor
Parish walked home with me to the college gate, and there I
parted from him, with no small sorrow.

_April 8._--My young friends in the University, who have
scarcely left me a moment to myself, were with me this morning
as soon as I was moving, leaving me no time for prayer. My mind
was very solemn, and I wished much to be left alone. A great
many accompanied me to the coach, which took me up at the end of
the town. It was a thick, misty morning, so the University, with
its towers and spires, was out of sight in an instant.

_April 24._--Keenly disappointed at finding no letter from
Lydia; thus it pleased God, in the riches of His grace, to quash
at once all my beginnings of entanglement. Oh, may it be to make
me more entirely His own. 'The Lord shall be the portion of mine
inheritance, and of my cup.' Oh, may I live indeed a more
spiritual life of faith! Prayed that I might obtain a more deep
acquaintance with the mysteries of the Gospel, and the offices
of Christ; my soul was solemnised. Went to Russell Square, and
found from Mr. Grant that I was that day appointed a chaplain
to the East India Company, but that my particular destination
would depend on the government in India. Rather may I say that
it depends on the will of my God, who in His own time thus
brings things to pass. Oh, now let my heart be spiritualised;
that the glorious and arduous work before me may fill all my
soul, and stir me up to prayer.

_April 25._--Breakfasted with the venerable Mr. Newton, who made
several striking remarks in reference to my work. He said he had
heard of a clever gardener, who would sow the seeds when the
meat was put down to roast, and engage to produce a salad by the
time it was ready; but the Lord did not sow oaks in this way. On
my saying that perhaps I should never live to see much fruit, he
answered, I should have a bird's eye view of it, which would be
better. When I spoke of the opposition that I should be likely
to meet with, he said, he supposed Satan would not love me for
what I was about to do. The old man prayed afterwards, with
sweet simplicity. Drank tea at C. Our hearts seemed full of the
joy which comes from the communion of saints.

_April 26._--Met D. at Mr. Grant's, and was much affected at
some marks of love expressed by the people at Cambridge, at the
time of my leaving them. He said that as I was going down the
aisle they all rose up to take their last view.

_May 4._--Waiting this morning on the Archbishop of Canterbury
at Lambeth Palace. He had learnt from somebody my circumstances,
the degree I had taken, and my object in going to India. He
spoke much on the importance of the work, the small
ecclesiastical establishment for so great a body of people, and
the state of those English there, who, he said, 'called
themselves Christians.' He was throughout very civil, and wished
me all the success I desired. I then proceeded to the India
House, and received directions to attend on Wednesday to be
sworn in. Afterwards walked to Mr. Wilberforce's at Broomfield.

_May 8._--Reading Mr. Grant's book.[13] The state of the
natives, and the prospects of doing good there, the character of
Schwartz, &c., set forth in it, much impressed my mind, and I
found great satisfaction in pleading for the fulfilment of God's
promises to the heathen. It seemed painful to think of myself at
all, except in reference to the Church of Christ. Being somewhat
in danger of distraction this evening, from many concurrent
circumstances, I found a very short prayer answered by my being
kept steady. Heard from Mr. Parry this evening, that in
consequence of an embargo laid on all the ships by government,
who had taken the best seamen from the Company's ships, on
account of the sailing of the French and Spanish fleets, I
should not be able to go before the middle of June, if so soon.

_May 15._--Read prayers at Mr. Newton's, and preached on Eph.
ii. 19-21. The clerk threw out very disrespectful and even
uncivil things respecting my going to India; though I thought
the asperity and contemptuousness he manifested unsuitable to
his profession, I felt happy in the comfortable assurance of
being upright in my intentions. The sermon was much praised by
some people coming in, but happily this gives me little
satisfaction. Went home and read a sermon of Flavel's, on
knowing nothing but Christ.

_May 17._--Walked out, and continued in earnest striving with my
corruption. I made a covenant with my eyes, which I kept
strictly; though I was astonished to find the difficulty I had
in doing even this.

_May 22._--Endeavoured to guard my thoughts this morning in a
more particular manner, as expecting to pass it, with Sargent,
in prayer for assistance in the ministry. Called at Mr.
Wilberforce's, when I met Mr. Babington. The extreme kindness
and cordiality of these two was very pleasing to me, though
rather elating. By a letter from B. to-day, learnt that two
young men of Chesterton had come forward, who professed to have
been awakened by a sermon of mine on Psalm ix. 17. I was not so
affected with gratitude and joy as I expected to be; could not
easily ascribe the glory to God; yet I will bless Him through
all my ignorance that He has thus owned the ministry of one so
weak. Oh, may I have faith to go onward, expecting to see
miracles wrought by the foolishness of preaching. H., to whom I
had made application for the loan which Major Sandys found it
inconvenient to advance, dined with me, and surprised me by the
difficulty he started. After dinner went to the India House to
take leave. Mr. ----, the other chaplain, sat with me before we
were called in, and I found that I knew a little of him, having
been at his house. As he knew my character, I spoke very freely
to him on the subject of religion. Was called in to take the
oaths. All the directors were present, I think. Mr. Grant, in
the chair, addressed a charge to us, extempore. One thing struck
my attention, which was, that he warned us of the enervating
effects of the climate.

I felt more acutely than ever I did in my life the shame
attending poverty. Nothing but the remembrance that I was not to
blame supported me. Whatever comes to me in the way of
Providence is, and must be, for my good.

_May 30._--Went to the India House. Kept the covenant with my
eyes pretty well. Oh, what bitter experience have I had to teach
me carefulness against temptation! I have found this method,
which I have sometimes had recourse to, useful to-day--namely,
that of praying in ejaculations for any particular person whose
appearance might prove an occasion of sinful thoughts. After
asking of God that she might be as pure and beautiful in her
mind and heart as in body, and be a temple of the Holy Ghost,
consecrated to the service of God, for whose glory she was
made, I dare not harbour a thought of an opposite tendency.

_June 6._--How many temptations are there in the streets of
London!

_June 14._--Sent off all my luggage, as preparatory to its going
on board. Dined at Mr. Cecil's; he endeavoured to correct my
reading, but in vain. 'Brother M.,' says he, 'you are a humble
man, and would gain regard in private life; but to gain public
attention you must force yourself into a more marked and
expressive manner.' Generally, to-night, have I been above the
world; Lydia, and other comforts, I would resign.

_June 16._--I thought it probable, from illness, that death
might be at hand, and this was before me all the day; sometimes
I was exceedingly refreshed and comforted at the thought, at
other times I felt unwilling and afraid to die. Shed tears at
night, at the thought of my departure, and the roaring sea, that
would soon be rolling between me and all that is dear to me upon
earth.

Mrs. T.M. Hitchins, his cousin's wife, having asked him for some of his sermons, he replied:

London: June 24, 1805.

The arguments you offer to induce me seem not to possess that
force which I look for in your reasoning. Sermons cannot be good
memorials, because once read they are done with--especially a
young man's sermons, unless they possess a peculiar simplicity
and spirituality; which I need not say are qualities not
belonging to mine. I hope, however, that I am improving and I
trust that--now I am removed from the contagion of academic
air--I am in the way of acquiring a greater knowledge of men and
of my own heart--I shall exchange my jejune scholastic style for
a simple spiritual exhibition of profitable truth. Mr. Cecil has
been taking a great deal of pains with me. My insipid,
inanimate manner in the pulpit, he says, is intolerable. Sir,
said he, it is cupola-painting, not miniature, that must be the
character of a man that harangues a multitude. Lieut. Wynter
called on me last Saturday, and last night drank tea with me. I
cannot but admire his great seriousness. I feel greatly attached
to him. He is just the sort of person, of a sober thoughtful
cast, that I love to associate with. He mentioned Lydia, I do
not know why, but he could not tell me half enough about her,
while she was at Plymouth, to satisfy my curiosity. Whitsun-week
was a time of the utmost distress to me on her account. On the
Monday at the Eclectic, Mr. Cecil, speaking of celibacy, said, I
was acting like a madman in going out without a wife. So thought
all the other ten or eleven ministers present, and Mr. Foster
among the rest, who is unmarried. This opinion, coming
deliberately from so many experienced ministers, threw me into
great perplexity, which increased, as my affections began to be
set more afloat, for then I was less able than before to discern
the path of duty. At last I wrote to Simeon, stating to him the
strongest arguments I heard in favour of marriage in my case.
His answer decided my mind. He put it in this way. Is it
necessary? To this I could answer, No. Then is it expedient? He
here produced so many weighty reasons against its expediency,
that I was soon satisfied in my mind. My turbulent will was,
however, not so easily pacified. I was again obliged to undergo
the severest pain in making that sacrifice which had cost me so
dear before. Better had it been if those wounds had never been
torn open. But now again, through the mercy of God, I am once
more at peace. What cannot His power effect? The present wish of
my heart is that there may be _never_ a necessity of marriage,
so that I may henceforth have no one thing upon earth for which
I would wish to stay another hour, except it be to serve the
Lord my Saviour in the work of the ministry. Once more,
therefore, I say to Lydia, and with her to all earthly schemes
of happiness, Farewell. Let her live happy and useful in her
present situation, since that is the will of God. How long these
thoughts may continue, I cannot say. At times of indolence, or
distress, or prevalent corruption, the former wishes, I suppose,
will occur and renew my pain: but pray, my dear sister, that the
Lord may keep in the imaginations of the thoughts of my heart
all that may be for the glory of His great name. The only
objection which presented itself to my advisers to marriage was
the difficulty of finding a proper person to be the wife of a
missionary. I told them that perhaps I should not have occasion
to search a long time for one. Simeon knows all about Lydia. I
think it very likely that he will endeavour to see her when she
comes to town next winter.

(_Addendum at the commencement, before the Address._)

I never returned my acknowledgment for the little hymn book,
which is a memento of both. It is just the sort of thing.
Instead of sending the books I intended, I shall inclose in the
tea-caddy a little _Pilgrim's Progress_ for you, and another for
Lydia.

July 2 was spent with Corrie in prayer, and converse 'about the great work among the heathen.' Martyn gave a final sitting for his miniature for his sister, to 'the painter lady, who still repeated her infidel cavils; having nothing more to say in the way of argument, I thought it right to declare the threatenings of God to those who reject the Gospel.' On the 8th he sat for his picture, for his friend Bates, to Russel. After his farewell to Sargent, and riding back,

Though I was in good health a moment before, yet as I was
undressing I fainted and fell into a convulsive fit; I lost my
senses for some time, and on recovering a little found myself
in intense pain. Death appeared near at hand, and seemed
somewhat different and more terrible than I could have conceived
before, not in its conclusion, but in itself. I felt assured of
my safety in Christ. Slept very little that night, from extreme
debility. Tenth, I went to Portsmouth, where we arrived to
breakfast, and find friends from Cambridge. Went with my things
on board the Union at the Motherbank. Mr. Simeon read and prayed
in the afternoon, thinking I was to go on board for the last
time. Mr. Simeon first prayed, and then myself. On our way to
the ship we sung hymns. The time was exceedingly solemn, and our
hearts seemed filled with solemn joy.

As tidings from Lord Nelson were waited for, the fleet--consisting of fifteen sail under convoy of the Belliqueuse, Captain Byng--went no farther than Plymouth, and then anchored off Falmouth.

The coast of Devonshire and Cornwall was passing before me. The
memory of beloved friends, then, was very strong and
affecting.... I was rather flurried at the singularity of this
providence of God, in thus leading me once more to the bosom of
all my friends.... I have thought with exceeding tenderness of
Lydia to-day; how I long to see her; but if it be the Lord's
will, He will open a way. I shall not take any steps to produce
a meeting.

So he wrote on July 20. On the same day, the Rev. T.M. Hitchins wrote to him, thus: 'Lydia, from whom we heard about ten days ago, is quite well. She is much interested in your welfare.' Mrs. Hitchins wrote: 'Lydia, whom I heard lately from, is well, and never omits mentioning you in her letters--and, I may venture to say, what you will value still more, in her prayers also.' Martyn wrote to Mr. Hitchins on the 23rd: 'A great work lies before me, and I must submit to many privations if I would see it accomplished. I should say, however, that poverty is not one of the evils I shall have to encounter; the salary of a chaplain, even at the lowest, is 600 rupees a month. Give my kind love to mama--as also to Miss L. Grenfell.' A postscript to the letter stated that the writer had taken his place in the coach for Marazion: 'Trust to pass some part of the morning at Miss Grenfell's.' He thus records in his _Journal_ the interviews which resulted in what amounted to a brief engagement:

I arrived at Marazion in time for breakfast, and met my beloved
Lydia. In the course of the morning I walked with her, though
not uninterruptedly; with much confusion I declared my affection
for her, with the intention of learning whether, if ever I saw
it right in India to be married, she would come out; but she
would not declare her sentiments, she said that the shortness of
arrangement was an obstacle, even if all others were removed. In
great tumult I walked up to St. Hilary, whence, after dining, I
returned to Mr. Grenfell's, but, on account of the number of
persons there, I had not an opportunity of being alone with
Lydia. Went back to Falmouth with G. I was more disposed to talk
of Lydia all the way, but roused myself to a sense of my duty,
and addressed him on the subject of religion. The next day I was
exceedingly melancholy at what had taken place between Lydia and
myself, and at the thought of being separated from her. I could
not bring myself to believe that God had settled the whole
matter, because I was not willing to believe it.

TO MISS LYDIA GRENFELL, MARAZION

Union, Falmouth Harbour: July 27, 1805.

... As I was coming on board this morning, and reading Mr.
Serle's hymn you wrote out for me, a sudden gust of wind blew
it into the sea. I made the boatmen immediately heave to, and
recovered it, happily without any injury except what it had
received from the sea. I should have told you that the Morning
Hymn, which I always kept carefully in my pocket-book, was one
day stolen with it, and other valuable letters, from my rooms in
college. It would be extremely gratifying to me to possess
another copy of it, as it always reminded me most forcibly of
the happy day on which we visited the aged saint. The fleet, it
is said, will not sail for three weeks, but if you are willing
to employ any of your time in providing me with this or any
other manuscript hymns, the sooner you write them, the more
certain I shall be of receiving them. Pardon me for thus
intruding on your time; you will in no wise lose your reward.
The encouragement conveyed in little compositions of this sort
is more refreshing than a cup of cold water. The Lord of the
harvest, who is sending forth me, who am most truly less than
the least of all saints, will reward you for being willing to
help forward even the meanest of His servants. The love which
you bear to the cause of Christ, as well as motives of private
friendship, will, I trust, induce you to commend me to God, and
to the word of His grace, at those sacred moments when you
approach the throne of our covenant God. To His gracious care I
commend you. May you long live happy and holy, daily growing
more meet for the inheritance of the saints in light. I remain,
with affectionate regard, yours most truly,

H. MARTYN.

_July 28._--(Sunday.)--Preached in the morning, on board, on
John iii. 3. In the afternoon, at Falmouth Church, on 1 Cor. i.
20 to 26.

_July 29._--My gloom returned. Walked to Lamorran; alternately
repining at my dispensation, and giving it up to the Lord.
Sometimes--after thinking of Lydia for a long time together, so
as to feel almost outrageous at being deprived of her--my soul
would feel its guilt, and flee again to God. I was much relieved
at intervals by learning the hymn, 'The God of Abraham praise.'

The lady's _Diary_ has these passages, which show that her sister, Mrs. Hitchins, had rightly represented the state of her heart as not altogether refusing to return Martyn's affection:

_1805, July 25._--I was surprised this morning by a visit from
H.M., and have passed the day chiefly with him. The distance he
is going, and the errand he is going on, rendered his society
particularly interesting. I felt as if bidding a final adieu to
him in this world, and all he said was as the words of one on
the borders of eternity. May I improve the opportunity I have
enjoyed of Christian converse, and may the Lord moderate the
sorrow I feel at parting with so valuable and excellent
friend--some pains have attended it, known only to God and
myself. Thou God, that knowest them, canst alone give
comfort.... Oh, may we each pursue our different paths, and meet
at last around our Father's throne; may we often meet now in
spirit, praying and obtaining blessings for each other. Now, my
soul, return to God, the author of them.

_July 26._--Oh, how this day has passed away! Nothing done to
any good purpose. Lord, help me! I feel Thy loved presence
withdrawn; I feel departing from Thee. Oh, let Thy mercy pardon,
let Thy love succour, me. Deliver me from this temptation, set
my soul at liberty, and I will praise Thee. I know the cause of
all this darkness, this depression; dare I desire what Thou dost
plainly, by the voice of Thy providence, condemn? O Lord, help
me to conquer my natural feelings, help me to be watchful as Thy
child. Oh, leave me not; or I fall a prey to this corroding
care. Let me cast every care on Thee.

_Gurlyn, July 30._--Blessed Lord, I thank Thee for affording me
the retirement I so much delight in; here I enjoy freedom from
all the noise and interruption of a town. Oh, may the Lord
sanctify this pleasure. Oh, may it prove the means of benefiting
my soul. Oh, may I watch against the intrusions of vain
thoughts; else, instead of an advantage, I shall find solitude
ruinous to my soul.

_August 4._--This evening my soul has been pained with many
fears concerning an absent friend, yet the Lord sweetly supports
me, and is truly a refuge to me. It is a stormy and tempestuous
night; the stillness and retirement of this place add to the
solemnity of the hour. I hear the voice of God in every
blast--it seems to say, 'Sin has brought storm and tempest on a
guilty world.' O my Father and my God, Thou art righteous in all
Thy judgments, merciful in all Thy ways. I would humbly trust in
Thee, and confide all who are dear to me into Thy hands. The
anxieties of nature, the apprehensions of affection, do Thou
regulate, and make me acquiesce in whatever is Thy will.

_August 5._--My mind is relieved to-day by hearing the fleet, in
which I thought my friend had sailed, has not left the port. Oh,
how frequently do unnecessary pains destroy our peace. Lord,
look on me to-night, pardon my sins and make me more watchful
and fight against my inward corruption. Oh, it is a state of
conflict indeed!

He thus wrote to Mrs. Hitchins:

Falmouth: July 30, 1805.

'My dearest Cousin,--I am exceedingly rejoiced at being
permitted to send you one more letter, as the former, if it had
been the last, would have left, I fear, a painful impression on
your mind. It pleased God to restore peace to my mind soon after
I came on board--as I thought--finally. I was left more alone
with God, and found blessed seasons of intercourse with Him. But
when your letter came, I found it so sympathising, so
affectionate, that my heart was filled with joy and thankfulness
to God for such a dear friend, and I could not refrain from
bowing my knees immediately to pray that God might bless all
your words to the good of my soul, and bless you for having
written them. My views of the respective importance of things
continue, I hope, to rectify. The shortness of time, the
precious value of immortal souls, and the plain command of
Christ, all conspire to teach me that Lydia must be
resigned--and for ever--for though you suggest the possibility
of my hereafter returning and being united to her, I rather wish
to beware of looking forward to anything in this life as the end
or reward of my labours. It would be a temptation to me to
return before being necessitated. The rest which remaineth for
the people of God is in another world, where they neither marry
nor are given in marriage. But while I thus reason, still a sigh
will ever and anon escape me at the thought of a final
separation from her. In the morning when I rise, before prayer
puts grace into exercise, there is generally a very heavy gloom
on my spirits--and a distaste for everything in earth or heaven.
You do not seem to suppose that any objection would remain in
her mind, if I should return and other obstacles were
removed--which opinion of yours is, no doubt, very pleasing to
me--but if there _were_ anything more than friendship, do you
think it at all likely she could have spoken and written to me
as she has? However, do not suppose from this that I wish to
hear from you anything more on this subject--in the hope of
being gratified with an assurance to the contrary. I cannot tell
what induced me to take my leave of the people in the west when
I was last there, as it was so probable we should be detained;
were it not for having bid them adieu, I believe I should pay
them another visit--only that I could not do it without being
with Lydia again, which might not perhaps answer any good
purpose, and more probably would renew the pain.

If, in India, I should be persuaded of the expediency of
marriage, you perceive that I can do nothing less than make her
the offer, or rather propose the sacrifice. It would be almost
cruel and presumptuous in me to make such an application to her,
especially as she would be induced by a sense of duty rather
than personal attachment. But what else can be done? Should she
not, then, be warned of my intention--before I go? If you
advance no objection, I shall write a letter to her,
notwithstanding her prohibition. When this is done no further
step remains to be taken, that I know of. The shortness of our
acquaintance, which she made a ground of objection, cannot now
be remedied.

The matter, as it stands, must be left with God--and I do leave
it with Him very cheerfully. I pray that hereafter I may not be
tempted to follow my will, and mistake it for God's--to fancy I
am called to marriage, when I ought to remain single--and you
will likewise pray, my dear cousin, that my mind may be always
under a right direction.

His _Journal_ thus continues:

_July 31._--Went on board this morning in extreme anguish. I
could not help saying, 'Lord, it is not a sinful attachment in
itself, and therefore I may commune more freely with Thee about
it.' I sought for hymns suitable to my case, but none did
sufficiently; most complained of spiritual distress, but mine
was not from any doubt of God's favour, for I felt no doubt of
that.

_August 1._--Rose in great anguish of mind, but prayer relieved
me a little. The wind continuing foul, I went ashore after
breakfast; but before this, sat down to write to Lydia, hoping
to relieve the burden of my mind. I wrote in great turbulence,
but in a little time my tumult unaccountably subsided, and I
enjoyed a peace to which I have been for some time a stranger. I
felt exceedingly willing to leave her, and to go on my way
rejoicing. I could not account for this, except by ascribing it
to the gracious influence of God. The first few Psalms were
exceedingly comfortable to me. Received a letter this evening
from Emma, and received it as from God; I was animated before,
but this added tenfold encouragement. She warned me, from
experience, of the carefulness it would bring upon me; but spoke
with such sympathy and tenderness, that my heart was quite
refreshed. I bowed my knees to bless and adore God for it, and
devoted myself anew to His beloved service. Went on board at
night; the sea ran high, but I felt a sweet tranquillity in Him
who stilleth the raging of the sea. I was delighted to find that
the Lascars understood me perfectly when I spoke to them a
sentence or two in Hindustani.

_August 5._--Went ashore. Walked to Pendennis garrison; enjoyed
some happy reflections as I sat on one of the ramparts, looking
at the ships and sea.

_August 7._--Preached at Falmouth Church, on Psalm iii. 1, with
much comfort; after church, set off to walk to St. Hilary.
Reached Helston in three hours in extraordinary spirits. The joy
of my soul was very great. Every object around me called forth
praise and gratitude to God. Perhaps it might have been joy at
the prospect of seeing Lydia, but I asked myself at the time,
whether out of love to God I was willing to turn back and see
her no more. I persuaded myself that I could. But perhaps had I
been put to the trial, it would have been otherwise. I arrived
safe at St. Hilary, and passed the evening agreeably with R.
8th. Enjoyed much of the presence of God in morning prayer. The
morning passed profitably in writing on Heb. ii. 3. My soul
seemed to breathe seriously after God. Walked down with R. to
Gurlyn to call on Lydia. She was not at home when we called, so
I walked out to meet her. When I met her coming up the hill, I
was almost induced to believe her more interested about me than
I had conceived. Went away in the expectation of visiting her
frequently. Called on my way (from Falmouth) at Gurlyn. My mind
not in peace; at night in prayer, my soul was much overwhelmed
with fear, which caused me to approach God in fervent petition,
that He would make me perfectly upright, and my walk consistent
with the high character I am called to assume.

_August 10._--Rose very early, with uneasiness increased by
seeing the wind northerly; walked away at seven to Gurlyn,
feeling little or no pleasure at the thought of seeing Lydia;
apprehension about the sailing of the fleet made me dreadfully
uneasy; was with Lydia a short time before breakfast; afterwards
I read the 10th Psalm, with Horne's Commentary, to her and her
mother; she was then just putting into my hand the 10th of
Genesis to read when a servant came in, and said a horse was
come for me from St. Hilary, where a carriage was waiting to
convey me to Falmouth. All my painful presentiments were thus
realised, and it came upon me like a thunderbolt. Lydia was
evidently painfully affected by it; she came out, that we might
be alone at taking leave, and I then told her, that if it should
appear to be God's will that I should be married, she must not
be offended at receiving a letter from me. In the great hurry
she discovered more of her mind than she intended; she made no
objection whatever to coming out. Thinking, perhaps, I wished to
make an engagement with her, she said we had better go quite
free; with this I left her, not knowing yet for what purpose I
have been permitted, by an unexpected providence, to enjoy these
interviews. I galloped back to St. Hilary, and instantly got
into a chaise with Mr. R., who had been awaked by the signal gun
at five in the morning, and had come for me. At Hildon I got a
horse, with which I rode to Falmouth, meeting on the road
another express sent after me by R. I arrived about twelve, and
instantly went on board; almost all the other ships were under
weigh, but the Union had got entangled in the chains. The
commodore expressed his anger as he passed, at this delay, but
I blessed the Lord, who had thus saved His poor creature from
shame and trouble. How delusive are schemes of pleasure; at nine
in the morning I was sitting at ease, with the person dearest to
me on earth, intending to go out with her afterwards to see the
different views, to visit some persons with her, and to preach
on the morrow; four hours only elapsed, and I was under sail
from England! The anxiety to get on board, and the joy I felt at
not being left behind, absorbed other sorrowful considerations
for a time; wrote several letters as soon as I was on board.
When I was left a little at leisure, my spirits began to sink;
yet how backward was I to draw near to my God. I found relief
occasionally, yet still was slow to fly to this refuge of my
weary soul. Was meditating on a subject for to-morrow. As more
of the land gradually appeared behind the Lizard, I watched with
my spy-glass for the Mount (St. Michael's), but in consequence
of lying to for the purser, and thus dropping astern of the
fleet, night came on before we weathered the point. Oh, let not
my soul be deceived and distracted by these foolish vanities,
but now that I am actually embarked in Christ's cause, let a
peculiar unction rest upon my soul, to wean me from the world,
and to inspire me with ardent zeal for the good of souls.

TO MISS LYDIA GRENFELL

Union, Falmouth: August 10, 1805.

My dear Miss Lydia,--It will perhaps be some satisfaction to
yourself and your mother, to know that I was in time. Our ship
was entangled in the chain, and was by that means the only one
not under weigh when I arrived. It seems that most of the people
on board had given me up, and did not mean to wait for me. I
cannot but feel sensibly this instance of Divine mercy in thus
preserving me from the great trouble that would have attended
the loss of my passage. Mount's Bay will soon be in sight, and
recall you all once more to my affectionate remembrance.... I
bid you a long Farewell. God ever bless you, and help you
sometimes to intercede for me.

H. MARTYN.

The lady alludes thus, in her _Diary_, to these events, in language which confesses her love, as she did not again confess it till after his death:[14]

_August 8._--I was surprised again to-day by a visit from my
friend, Mr. Martyn, who, contrary to every expectation, is
detained, perhaps weeks longer. I feel myself called on to act
decisively--oh how difficult and painful a part--Lord, assist
me. I desire to be directed by Thy wisdom, and to follow
implicitly what appears Thy will. May we each consider Thy
honour as entrusted to us, and resolve, whatever it may cost us,
to seek Thy glory and do Thy will. O Lord, I feel myself so weak
that I would fain fly from the trial. My hope is in Thee--do
Thou strengthen me, help me to seek, to know, and resolutely to
do, Thy will, and that we may be each divinely influenced, and
may principle be victorious over feeling. Thou, blessed Spirit,
aid, support, and guide us. Now may we be in the armour of God,
now may we flee from temptation. O blessed Jesus, leave me not,
forsake me not.

_August 9._--What a day of conflict has this been! I was much
blessed, as if to prepare me for it, in the morning, and
expected to see my friend, and hoped to have acted with
Christian resolution. At Tregembo I learnt he had been called on
by express last night. The effect this intelligence had on me
shows how much my affections are engaged. O Lord, I lament it, I
wonder at myself, I tremble at what may be before me--but do
not, O Lord, forsake me. The idea of his going, when at parting
I behaved with greater coolness and reserve than I ever did
before, was a distress I could hardly bear, and I prayed the
Lord to afford me an opportunity of doing away the impression
from his mind. I saw no possibility of this--imagining the fleet
must have sailed--when, to my astonishment, I learnt from our
servant that he had called again this evening, and left a
message that he would be here to-morrow. Oh, I feel less able
than ever to conceal my real sentiments, and the necessity of
doing it does not so much weigh with me. O my soul, pause,
reflect--thy future happiness, and his too, the glory of God,
the peace of my dear mother--all are concerned in what may pass
to-morrow; I can only look and pray to be directed aright.

_August 10._--Much have I to testify of supporting grace this
day, and of what I must consider Divine interference in my
favour, and that of my dear friend, who is now gone to return no
more. My affections are engaged past recalling, and the anguish
I endured yesterday, from an apprehension that I had treated him
with coolness, exceeds my power to express; but God saw it, and
kindly ordered it that he should come and do away the idea from
my mind. It contributed likewise to my peace, and I hope to his,
that it is clearly now understood between us that he is free to
marry where he is going, and I have felt quite resigned to the
will of God in this, and shall often pray the Lord to find him a
suitable partner.

Went to meeting in a comfortable frame, but the intelligence
brought me there--that the fleet had probably sailed without my
friend--so distressed and distracted my mind, that I would
gladly have exchanged my feelings of yesterday for those I was
now exercised with; yet in prayer I found relief, and in
appealing to God. How unsought by me was his coming here. I
still felt anxiety beyond all expression to hear if he arrived
in time or not. Oh, not for all the world could offer me would I
he should lose his passage!--yet stay, my soul, recollect
thyself, are not all events at the Lord's disposal? Are not the
steps of a good man ordered by the Lord? Cast then this burden
on Him who carest for thee, my soul. Oh, let not Thy name, great
God, be blasphemed through us--surely we desire to glorify it
above all things, and would sacrifice everything to do so; enter
then my mind this night, and let me in every dark providence
trust in the Lord.

_August 11._--A day of singular mercies. O my soul, how should
the increasing goodness of God engage thee to serve Him with
more zeal and ardour. I had a comfortable season in prayer
before breakfast, enjoying sweet liberty of spirit before God my
Saviour, God, the sinner's friend and helper. Went to church,
but could get no comfort from the sermon; the service I found in
some parts quickening. On my return I found a letter from my
excellent friend, dated on board the Union. Oh, what a relief to
my mind! By a singular providence this ship was prevented
sailing by getting entangled in the chain; every other belonging
to the fleet was under weigh when he reached Falmouth, and his
friends there had given over the hope of his arriving in time.
Doth not God care for His people, and order everything, even the
most trifling, that concerns them? The fleet must not sail till
the man of God joined it;--praised be the name of the Lord for
this instance of His watchful care. And now, my soul, turn to
God, thy rest. Oh, may the remembrance of my dear friend, whilst
it is cherished as it ought, be no hindrance to my progress in
grace and holiness. May God alone fill my thoughts, and may my
regard for my friend be sanctified, and be a means of
stimulating me to press forward, and animate me in devoting
myself entirely to God. Lord, I would unfeignedly adore Thee for
all the instances of Thy loving kindness to me this week. I have
had many remarkable answers to prayer, many proofs that the Lord
watches over me, unworthy as I am. O Divine Saviour, how shall I
praise Thee? Walked this evening to a little meeting at Thirton
Wood. I was greatly refreshed and comforted. Oh, what a support
in time of trouble is the Lord God of Israel! I am about
retiring to rest--oh, may my thoughts upon my bed be solemn and
spiritual. The remembrance of my dear friend is at times
attended with feelings most painful, and yet, when I consider
why he is gone, and Whom he is serving, every burden is removed,
and I rejoice on his account, and rejoice that the Lord has such
a faithful servant employed in the work. Oh, may I find grace
triumphant over every feeling of my heart. Come, Lord Jesus, and
dwell with me.

_August 12._--Passed a sweet, peaceful day, enjoying much of His
presence whose favour giveth life, and joy, and peace. Visited
several of the poor near me, and found ability to speak freely
and feelingly to them of the state of their souls. My dear
absent friend is constantly remembered by me, but I find not his
remembrance a hindrance to my soul in following after God--no,
rather does it stimulate me in my course. Thus hath the Lord
answered my prayers, as it respects myself, that our regard
might be a sanctified one. Oh, bless the Lord, my soul, for
ever! praise Him in cheerful lays from day to day, and hope
eternally to do so.

_August 13._--Awoke early and had a happy season. Visited a poor
old man in great poverty, whose mind seemed disposed to receive
instruction, and in some measure enlightened to know his sinful
state and need of Christ; I found it a good time whilst with
him. This evening my spirits are depressed; my absent friend is
present to my remembrance, possessing more than common
sensibility and affection. What must his sufferings be? but God
is sufficient for him. He that careth for the falling sparrow
will not forget him--this is my never-failing source of
consolation.

_August 15._--My soul has been cold in duties to-day. Oh, for
the spirit of devotion! Great are the things God has wrought for
me; oh, let these great things suitably impress my soul. I have
had many painful reflections to-day respecting my absent friend,
fearing whether I may not be the occasion of much sorrow to him
and possibly of hindering him in the work. I could not do such
violence to my feelings as to treat him with reserve and
distance, yet, in his circumstances, I think I ought to. O Lord,
if in this I have offended, forgive me, and oh, do away from his
mind every improper remembrance of me. Help me to cast my cares
on Thee to-night, and help me with peace.

_Marazion, September 2._--My mind has been exercised with many
painful anxieties about my dear friend, but I have poured out my
soul to God, and am relieved; I have left my sorrows with Him.
Isaiah (41st chapter) has comforted me. Oh, what pleasure did
that permission give me when my heart was overburdened to-day.
'Produce your cause'--what a privilege to come to God as a
friend. I disclose those feelings to Him I have no power to any
earthly friend. Those I could say most to seem to avoid the
subject that occupies my mind; I have been wounded by their
silence, yet I do not imagine them indifferent or unconcerned.
It is well for me they have seemed to be so, for it has made me
more frequent at a throne of grace, and brought me more
acquainted with God as a friend who will hear all my complaints.
Oh, how sweet to approach Him, through Christ, as my God. 'Fear
not,' He says, 'for I am with you: be not dismayed, I am thy
God, I will strengthen thee, yea (O blessed assurance!) I will
help thee, yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of My
righteousness;' and so I find it--glory be to God! Lord, hear
the frequent prayers I offer for Thy dear servant, sanctify our
mutual regard; may it continue through eternity, flowing from
our love to Thee.

_September 3._--Still no letters from Stoke, and no intelligence
whether the fleet has sailed--this is no small exercise of my
patience, but at times I feel a sweet complacency in saying,
'Thou art my portion, O Lord.' I have often felt happy in saying
this, but it is in a season such as this, when creature comforts
fail, that we may know whether we are sincere in saying so. Ah!
how do we imperceptibly cleave to earth, and how soon withdraw
our affections from God. I am sensible mine would never fix on
Him but by His own power effecting it. I rest on Thy power, O
God most high, retired from human observation.

When the commodore opened his sealed despatches off the Lizard, it was found that the fleet was to linger still longer at Cork, whence Henry Martyn wrote again to Lydia's sister, Mrs. Hitchins. On Sunday, when becalmed in Mount's Bay, and he would have given anything to have been ashore preaching at Marazion or St. Hilary, he had taken for his text Hebrews xi. 16: 'But now they desire a better country, that is, an heavenly.'

Cork Harbour: August 19, 1805.

The beloved objects were still in sight, and Lydia I knew was
about that time at St. Hilary, but every wave bore me farther
and farther from them. I introduced what I had to say by
observing that we had now bid adieu to England, and its shores
were dying away from the view. The female part of my audience
were much affected, but I do not know that any were induced to
seek the better country. The Mount continued in sight till five
o'clock, when it disappeared behind the western boundary of the
bay. Amidst the extreme gloom of my mind this day I found great
comfort in interceding earnestly for my beloved friends all over
England. If you have heard from Marazion since Sunday, I should
be curious to know whether the fleet was observed passing....

We are now in the midst of a vast number of transports filled
with troops. It is now certain from our coming here that we are
to join in some expedition, probably the Cape of Good Hope, or
the Brazils; anywhere for me so long as the Lord goes with me.
If it should please God to send me another letter from you,
which I scarcely dare hope, do not forget to tell me as much as
you can about Lydia. I cannot write to her, or I should find the
greatest relief and pleasure even in transmitting upon paper the
assurances of my tenderest love.

Cove of Cork: August 28, 1805.

My dearest Cousin,--I have but a few minutes to say that we are
again going to sea--under convoy of five men of war. Very
anxiously have I been expecting to receive an answer to the
letter I sent you on my arrival at this port, bearing date
August 16; from the manner in which I had it conveyed to the
post-office, I begin to fear it has never reached you. I have
this instant received the letter you wrote me the day on which
we sailed from Falmouth. Everything from you gives me the
greatest pleasure, but this letter has rather tended to excite
sentiments of pain as well as pleasure. I fear my proceedings
have met with your disapprobation, and have therefore been
wrong--since it is more probable you should judge impartially
than myself.