09 Travail of Soul

Chapter 9

TRAVAIL OF SOUL

(1896)

"O BLESS our God, ye people, and make the voice of His praise to be heard." This is the note of thanksgiving with which Miss Reed opens her first letter for the new year. She had just been cheered by a long-expected visit from Mr. Wellesley C. Bailey recorded in the last chapter, and had also enjoyed a two days’ stay in Bhot with her sister-missionary. Dr. Sheldon, who in her turn testified to the help and comfort Miss Reed’s presence and counsel had been to her in her lonely post and her difficult work. But probably that which most filled her heart with gratitude at the opening of another year was the fact that during 1895 she had seen as many as thirty-one of her suffering flock admitted to the fellowship of the Christian Church by baptism. And this out of a number of inmates averaging about eighty. Surely the Divine Husbandman has led His handmaiden to labor in a fruitful field ! Gratitude for the privilege of successful work is the prevailing tone of the correspondence of all the year. From a letter dated March we take this extract : " Could I but give you an idea of how my time has been filled with happy, blessed work ever since you were here, you would not wonder at my long silence. Aside from my special work among and for my dear people here, I have been called out into the district work in which God has given good success." (In connection with this, it should be remembered that Miss Reed, in addition to her large and trying work among the lepers, was still the missionary of her old Society.) In the next letter we are permitted for a moment to see the veil lifted from the sorrow that has been pressing so heavily on the mother’s heart during the years that have elapsed since, all unsuspectingly, she bade a last earthly farewell to the daughter so beloved and to be henceforth so isolated. Mrs. Reed had recently been writing: "My mind has been wandering away to your far-off home. When we do not hear from you every week or two, I cannot help feeling anxious about you. It is now three weeks since we heard. When we hear often, you do not seem so far away. Do write frequently, if only a post-card, so that we may hear from you often, while I stay. . . . Pray that I may be ready when He calls. . . . God is very near to me. He has been good to you and to me." Without intrusion upon a grief so sacred as this, we may surely feel grateful for such a testimony — grateful that she who, of all others, might have yielded to a spirit of murmuring under a stroke so heavy, is found acknowledging God’s goodness in so great and mysterious a sorrow. A touching life-story is recorded in one of Miss Reed’s letters, dated April in this year. It is, unhappily, typical of many from amongst India’s unnumbered thousands of lepers. "My little girl, Rebli, married when she was eleven years old, and says she lived happily with her husband and mother-in-law for two years, and then the marks of this dread disease appeared on her face. They put her away from them, and gave her a corner in their cow-stable in which she slept and ate her food, but had to work very hard in the fields the livelong day. She says they were very cruel to her, and that her heart was full of grief because of her affliction. Finally, they tried to drive her away to wander alone in the world, but she refused to go. One day, thirteen months ago, one of my helpers in village work went to this village and was told of this child, and went to see her. He spoke to her of Chandag, and how the people here are cared for, and she came home with him to us. She is very grateful for this refuge, and appreciative of the comforts and care afforded her. To-day, when I told her of the desire of these dear women (a Bible Class in Birmingham) to support some one in affliction, she said : ’ Tell them I am so thankful for this home, for I am very happy and comfortable here, and I am so glad I have come to know the Lord, and I do thank Him for what He does for me.’ Rebli became a Christian in less than a year after coming to us, and was baptized in December last. Her prayers and testimonies in our meetings always make my heart glad. She is a gentle, bright girl, much loved by all her associates. There are many marks on her face, hands, and feet, though she does not yet suffer much physical pain, but her poor little heart has suffered, and no doubt the prayers and loving interest of those dear mother-hearts will bring much comfort and blessing to this little one."

Surely the peace, and the prayers, of these good women in busy Birmingham, devoted to the support and comfort of their afflicted little sister in distant Chandag, must be well pleasing to Him who said, ’’Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these ... ye have done it unto Me."

’’A thousand thanks" for a remittance of 1,000 rupees, and gratitude to God that ’’the rains have set in fifteen days ahead of the usual time," are the burden of a brief note on the 6th of June. "Malaria has even reached lovely and lofty Chandag Heights, and I am having some fever these days, and am obliged to go slowly, for a change. A glimpse of that "travail of soul" which is the mark of the true missionary is given us in a letter of September, when Miss Reed writes, "I am feeling worn and tired the past fortnight, and my heart has been greatly burdened over the souls entrusted to my care. ... I have much to be thankful for ; but more over which my heart grieves nowadays, but I will continue to pray with, and for, these sin-blinded ones, and to try to lead them to Him who alone can cleanse them. Please pray that the Spirit’s presence may be manifest in quickening power here. So many need to be quickened and made "alive unto God and dead indeed unto sin."

Part of the suffering by sympathy which she endures is expressed by Miss Reed in a letter of this period. She describes, with deep regret, the desertion of some of the younger members of her flock. Of one youth in particular, whose flight was a sorrowful surprise to her, she says, "I can only account for his running away by the thought that he wanted to see something more of the world than is visible from our beautiful abode here." She deplores the existence of a rendezvous for wandering lepers in the district, where they herd together amid surroundings of the worst kind both physically and morally, and fears her wanderer may have found his way there. (This proved to be the case, but in a few weeks his return is gladly recorded.) But as a contrast, and in some sense a compensation, for this deserter, we hear a cheering account of " Har Singh," a youth of seventeen years of age, who is an inmate of the Institution along with his parents, both of whom are lepers also, and very great sufferers, but ’’earnest, growing Christians and great comforts " to their kind superintendent. Har Singh, who has been a leper since he was six years old, and is now "a most piteous object," is, notwithstanding his sad condition, a teacher in the school of the Asylum, and has " a good heart, tender and teachable, and has, I trust, received eternal life. His earnest prayers cheer and comfort my heart often, because they tell me he is one who has been made alive by God’s Spirit."

One more of these sad but interesting "human documents" may be recorded here from the same long letter : "Gauri Datt is about eighteen years of age. He came to Chandag four years ago with only faint traces of the disease, but had been turned away from home because of these marks, and had wandered begging his food for months before seeking shelter and ease. He was a high caste Brahmin, and doubtless did not wish to come under Christian influence, but when he did come, the truth soon found its way to his heart, and his was one of the brightest, clearest conversions I have witnessed since I have been at Chandag. He has learned to read, and is now able to read his Bible. He has sadly changed in appearance, and his face is greatly disfigured, and he suffers much at times." In a letter of grateful acknowledgment of some gifts, sent by a London friend, Miss Reed writes :

" Only yesterday I had the pleasure of opening the box you had packed with such loving thoughtfulness. How I wish I knew how to express the gratitude and thanksgiving that filled my heart as I took out the parcels and opened them one by one ! The sewing machine is a beauty But of that I shall have more to say after I use it, as I hope to do a few weeks hence in making the thirty-four warm chaddars (a sort of head covering and wrap combined) for my women and girls for Christmas gifts. Miss Pirn has asked me to buy the flannel in India at her expense. Can you imagine the pleasure I shall have in combining your gifts and hers, and my service, to make these poor sufferers happy and comfortable at Christmas? " The following stanzas from a leaflet much appreciated by Miss Reed may fitly bring this chapter to a close :

He who lived this life I’m living, When the robe of flesh He wore, Died the death on Calvary, giving Life to me forevermore ;

Risen now and interceding, That His glory I may see, God, my Saviour, " Not a stranger,"

Waits in heaven to welcome me.

He, whose constant Presence cheering All my path, my faithful Guide, While I wait for His appearing.

Longing still unsatisfied, Till at length, faith’s full fruition, My enraptured soul shall see, God, my Saviour, " Not a stranger," Will to glory welcome me.

Closer than a brother cleaving To the soul He died to save ;

Friend Divine ! on Him believing, I shall triumph o’er the grave.

He, who bore the shame and sorrow, That the victor I might be —

God, my Saviour, " Not a stranger," With a crown shall welcome me.

Blessed Saviour ! closer pressing To Thy side my steps shall be.

All my worthlessness confessing, All my confidence in Thee. When amid life’s evening shadows, Homeward shall my footsteps be, God, my Saviour, " Not a stranger,"

Come ! Oh, come to welcome me.

A. F. H.