PAM. 
 
 BIOG. 
 
 LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 
 
 A 
 
 SERMON, 
 
 OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF 
 
 MRS. MARTHA ANN RIO 
 
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 0 R 0 O M 
 
 OCTOBER II, 1857 , 
 
 BY 
 
 HEY. AUSTIN H. WRIGH T, M. D. 
 
 Missionary of the Am. Board of Com. for For. Missions. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY BEQUEST. 
 
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 jiC- C<. u 
 
 PREACHED AT 
 
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 I A H , PERSIA, 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 9 
 
 PRESS OF T. R. MARVIN & SON, 42 CONGRESS STREET. 
 
 1 85 8. 
 
LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 
 
 A 
 
 SERMON, 
 
 OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF 
 
 MRS. MARTHA ANN RHEA, 
 
 PREACHED AT 
 
 OROOMIAH, PERSIA, 
 
 OCTOBER 1 1, 1857, 
 
 BY 
 
 REV. AUSTIN H. WRIGHT, M. D. 
 
 Missionary of the Am. Board of Com. for For. Missions. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY REQUEST. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 PRESS OF T. R. MARYIN & SON, 42 CONGRESS STREET. 
 
 1 8 5 8. 
 
SERMON. 
 
 HEBREWS xii. 2. 
 
 LOOKING UNTO JESUS, THE AUTHOR AND FINISHER OF OUR FAITH. 
 
 If I mistake not, it would occur to every one of those, 
 whose lot it was to minister at the sick and dying bed of that 
 beloved member of our circle whose removal from among us 
 calls us together to-day to mingle our tears, that these words, 
 “ Looking unto Jesus,” are a theme peculiarly fitting the 
 occasion. May I not say the same of all those who have 
 read the touching story of the last days of our sister, penned 
 by our bereaved brother ? f • Looking unto Jesus ! ” How 
 steady was that gaze! How fixed that eye ! How absorbed 
 that mind with the glorious object, lulling the violence of 
 bodily pain, and soothing the ruffled spirit during those days 
 and nights of weariness and suffering. 
 
 “ Looking unto Jesus.” As used by the Apostle, the 
 phrase appears to have a gymnastic sense. He had illus¬ 
 trated the nature and power of faith in the preceding chap¬ 
 ter, by the example of numerous ancient worthies. They, 
 as it were, sat around, earnest spectators of the scenes exhib¬ 
 ited at the period of the ancient games. The Apostle and 
 his fellow-believers had entered the lists ; the Christian race 
 was to be run; and he says, “ Wherefore, seeing we also are 
 compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us 
 lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset 
 us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, 
 
4 
 
 looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith ; 
 who, for the joy,” &c. Jesus is the goal to be reached, on 
 which the eye is intently fixed, and to attain which every 
 nerve is strained. 
 
 The idea of Christ, as an example, is also involved. “For 
 consider him that endured such contradiction of sinners 
 against himself, lest ye be wearied and faint in your minds. 
 Ye have not resisted unto blood, striving against sin.” 
 
 Looking is no rare figure of Scripture to express faith, 
 trust. “ Look unto me and be ye saved, all ye ends of the 
 earth.” The story of the brazen serpent illustrates the same 
 idea. The poor people were sick and dying. The brazen 
 serpent was raised up in the midst of the camp, and they 
 were directed to look unto it and live. They who looked, 
 lived ; they who looked not, died. 
 
 Looking unto Jesus, implies a looking away from all other 
 objects. The eye, intently fastened on him, can fasten on 
 nothing else. He Jills the field of vision, to the exclusion 
 of every other object. He is Jesus, Savior; Savior from 
 sin ; Savior from its condemnation and power; Savior from 
 endless suffering—the second death. What a Name ! What 
 a Being! What treasures of blessing are laid up in Him for 
 poor lost creatures like us ! Lie, a Savior—his name is 
 Jesus—and we, sinners. He came to seek and to save that 
 which was lost. 
 
 Author and Jinisher of our faith ; the Alpha and Omega, 
 the first and the last, in our salvation. When there was no 
 eye to pity, nor arm to save, his heart yearned over us, as we 
 lay in our blood; and on the wings of love he came to our 
 help. He gave his life for ours, his blood for our blood— 
 met the demands of the law, and opened a way by which 
 God, the Father, might be just, and still justify the sinner. 
 This work was all done, and still we were wedded to our 
 sins, set on our idols, and pressing on to death. He fol¬ 
 lowed us in his love by his Spirit, called after us, constrained 
 
us, and made us willing. We love him, because he first 
 loved us. He, then, is the author of our faith, the beginner 
 of it. He laid the foundation for it, and he wrought it in 
 us. “ By grace are ye saved; and that not of yourselves, 
 it is the gift of God.” He, too, is the finisher of our faith. 
 He commenced the work, and he will complete it. He sus¬ 
 tains and strengthens, day by day. He carries the soul on 
 from one triumph to another in the divine life, working in us 
 to will and to do of his good pleasure, till he has finished 
 the work which he begun, and the redeemed sinner stands a 
 holy, sanctified being on Mount Zion above, his whole heart 
 swelling with gratitude and love, impelling him to cast his 
 crown at the Savior’s feet, and to cry, f Grace, grace—all of 
 grace.’ 
 
 But our duty to-day, brethren and sisters, is a special one. 
 Another of our beloved circle has passed away, and we are 
 met to dwell on her cherished memory, and to gather useful 
 lessons for ourselves from her sweet, lovely character, and 
 her humble, holy walk. What meaneth the Lord’s dealings 
 with us ? In less than nine short months, three members of 
 our missionary band have gone to the grave. The turf is 
 still fresh and green over the narrow house of one, and we 
 are called to the sad duty of performing the last rites, and 
 committing to the dust, another. But it is the Lord , and 
 we silently, though tearfully, bow to his all-wise decree, 
 and seek help that we may do it submissively. 
 
 Mrs. Martha Ann Rhea was born in Westminster, Ver¬ 
 mont, April 4, 1828. She was a daughter of Mr. James 
 and Mrs. Eunice Harris. Her mother died about the year 
 1846. Her father lived till August, 1855, when he was 
 suddenly called to the presence of his God.* Both of her 
 parents were godly people, and trained up their children in 
 the fear of the Lord. The family was a numerous one. 
 
 * Leaving a railroad car, he made a misstep, fell on the track, and was 
 crushed by the moving train. 
 
6 
 
 Two sons and three daughters survive, to mourn with us 
 the departure of their sister, Martha. One of the sons is 
 Dr. Elisha Harris, a laborious, self-sacrificing and excellent 
 physician in New York city. 
 
 When our departed sister was of a tender age, the family 
 removed to Homer, New York, where the other son and 
 two sisters still reside. At this place, she enjoyed superior 
 advantages for acquiring an education, which she faithfully 
 improved. At the early age of fourteen, she was brought to 
 a sense of her lost condition as a sinner, led to trust in the 
 Lord Jesus as her Savior, and make a public profession of 
 religion. We have no record of her experiences at that 
 time; but, from the earnestness, sincerity and depth of her 
 character, we know that there was nothing superficial or 
 formal in them. Her feelings were deep, her decision earn¬ 
 est, and her soul absorbed. 
 
 At the age of seventeen, her attention was arrested by the 
 subject of Missions, and her inclination prompted her to 
 engage in the missionary work. The way, however, was not 
 opened, so that she could see it her duty to enter the foreign 
 field. Still she had a strong desire to occupy some post of 
 usefulness, greater than that under the paternal roof. Christ 
 having done so much for her, she longed to do something for 
 him. About the year 1848, when she was twenty years of 
 age, a call reached her ear from that useful Association, which, 
 under the direction of Gov. Slade, of Vermont, has been 
 for many years occupied in searching out competent female 
 teachers, and in sending them to the destitute regions of the 
 Western States. This enterprise was in accordance with her 
 resolute, energetic spirit, opened a field for the exercise of 
 her peculiar talents as a teacher, and an unlimited scope for 
 usefulness. Before proceeding to the West, she repaired to 
 Hartford, Connecticut, according to the rules of the Associ¬ 
 ation, where she spent several weeks in attending lectures, 
 and prosecuting studies, preparatory to her future work. 
 
She spent two years at the West, in her favorite occupa¬ 
 tion of teaching. We, who have had beloved children under 
 her tuition, need not to be told, that her pupils made rapid 
 progress in their studies during that time. She, too, was 
 faithful in laboring for the souls of her pupils. Under her 
 earnest efforts for their salvation, her school was blessed with 
 a revival of religion, and several of her scholars were led to 
 Christ. The gracious work extended to the community 
 around. 
 
 The business of teaching furnished such a field for the 
 exercise of her remarkable talents as a teacher, and of her 
 piety as a Christian, that she determined to make it the great 
 employment of her life, and entered into engagements with 
 this in view. Having spent two years at the West, she vis¬ 
 ited her home in Homer, intending to return after a brief 
 period, there to devote her life to her favorite pursuit. But 
 God’s plan was otherwise. The East , and not the West, 
 was to be the scene of her toils. She was bereft; her plans 
 were frustrated. Just at this period, when her sense of be¬ 
 reavement was fresh and keen—when the world was dark, 
 and only Christ and his salvation were inviting to her soul— 
 she heard, through Mrs. Dr. Green, of Homer, that a teacher 
 was wanted for the children of the Nestorian mission. Then 
 commenced that singular and mysterious history, in which 
 the lives of our departed sister and her sorrow-stricken 
 friend, Mrs. Crane, were so much involved, and which is 
 too familiar to us all to call for detail. We may, however, 
 allude to the great fact, that Mrs. Crane already regarded our 
 departed friend as a principal instrument in the hands of God 
 in leading her to seek the salvation of her soul. 
 
 Miss Harris was not long in deciding the cpiestion of duty. 
 If I mistake not, three weeks had not elapsed since her west¬ 
 ern plans were frustrated, before she was convinced, that 
 she was called of the Lord to proceed to Oroomiah. She 
 thought that she might have erred in dismissing the question 
 
8 
 
 of missions, five years before, too soon, and that her Heavenly 
 Father was in this way disciplining her. She had, besides, 
 a decided love for the missionary work, and in instructing 
 the children of the mission, she would be occupied in her 
 favorite employment. 
 
 This was the summer of 1851. Mr. and Mrs. Crane were 
 expecting to bid adieu that season to their native land, des¬ 
 tined to the Nestorian mission, and it was arranged that Miss 
 Harris should accompany them. She took leave of her 
 friends in Homer, and proceeded to New York city to be in 
 readiness. Her friends, Mr. and Mrs. Crane, were unable, 
 on account of the diseased eyes of Mrs. Crane, to proceed to 
 their field of labor till the following year. Miss Harris was 
 detained in New York till October. On the 17th of that 
 month, she sailed in the ship Leland, from Boston, in the 
 company of Mr. and Mrs. Morgan, who were destined to 
 the Jewish mission at Salonica. The voyage was a pro¬ 
 tracted one, much beyond the usual time. Mr. Dwight 
 wrote to us from Constantinople, that they were there seri¬ 
 ously apprehensive that some disaster had befallen the vessel. 
 They, however, reached Constantinople in safety, though not 
 until the following February. Here our sister remained 
 until the following May, making herself very useful to the 
 missionary families there, by teaching their children, and 
 greatly endearing herself to them all. They would gladly 
 have detained her with them, but she was destined to a more 
 remote field, where her presence was earnestly longed for by 
 several missionary families. Mr. Cochran, in April, pro¬ 
 ceeded to Trebizond to meet her. Mr. and Mrs. Sutphen, 
 who were then at that place, accompanied them a few days 
 on the way to Erzroom. Two of our sister’s traveling com¬ 
 panions, Mrs. Morgan and Mr. Sutphen, were called before 
 her to rest in Christ. 
 
 July 1st, the day of the arrival of Miss Harris in Oroo- 
 miah, accompanied by Mr. Cochran, was a glad day to mis- 
 
9 
 
 sionary parents, anxious for their beloved children. Hope, 
 long deferred, had almost made their hearts sick. One dis¬ 
 appointment after another had occurred in the efforts to 
 secure a teacher, till we began to despair of success. Our 
 brother Stoddard had toiled hard in America to find one, 
 and had returned to us disappointed. But now, a teacher had 
 actually arrived. None, but those who know a missionary 
 parent’s heart, can comprehend the emotions awakened in 
 being permitted to greet a teacher in our circle, and such an 
 one as our friend promised to be. 
 
 July 14th, the following resolution was passed by the mis¬ 
 sion, viz: “ That we tender to the Prudential Committee our 
 sincere thanks for their efforts to secure a teacher for our 
 children, and congratulate them on their success in securing 
 the services of one so happily qualified for the position, as 
 Miss Harris appears to be.” 
 
 For two years it was our privilege to have her in our circle, 
 as the teacher of our children ; and though, in the mys¬ 
 terious providence of God, events transpired which were a 
 trial to her, she devoted herself, with great zeal and faithful¬ 
 ness, to the work of instruction. Within two months after 
 her arrival, Judith Perkins, then the eldest child in our juve¬ 
 nile circle, and for whose education fond parents had long 
 been looking to the coming of a teacher, was suddenly 
 snatched away by relentless death—a heavy blow to the little 
 school, and a sore trial to the beloved teacher. The follow¬ 
 ing year, the family of Mr. Stocking, then the largest in the 
 mission, left us for our native land, thus seriously breaking 
 in upon the numbers of the school, and occasioning the kind 
 teacher many anxious thoughts. Still, a more laborious, 
 faithful and successful teacher we never saw. She did not 
 allow these discouragements to dampen her ardor, or to 
 diminish her interest in the remaining children. She was 
 not one to be disheartened by any thing which might occur 
 in the path of duty, and she believed that she had been led 
 
 Q 
 
10 
 
 by a divine hand to this field. . I would not indulge in ex¬ 
 travagant praise ; but I think it may be said, in perfect truth, 
 that, as a teacher of youth, she possessed very remarkable 
 qualifications—-that she was indeed a model . She won the 
 love and confidence of her pupils in a high degree, and her 
 influence over them was unbounded. She was firm, and at 
 the same time gentle. She governed with a calm, but steady 
 hand. 
 
 In their studies, her pupils made most gratifying progress, 
 such as to reflect the highest credit on the skill and faithful¬ 
 ness of* their teacher. She was remarkably successful in 
 promoting mental discipline , the first and most difficult part 
 of a teacher’s duty. In studies conducing to this end, as 
 arithmetic and kindred branches, we were often not only 
 gratified, but astonished at the progress made by the scholars. 
 It was so remarkable, that I well remember the apprehension 
 arising, that their young minds might be tasked to an inju¬ 
 rious extent; but the result showed that their teacher was 
 right, and we were wrong. 
 
 Such a teacher, and such a school—what a treasure in a 
 mission like ours, where several families are stationed to¬ 
 gether ! What parent can give his undivided thoughts to 
 the missionary work, when his children are growing up with¬ 
 out sufficient means of education ? But life must have its 
 trials, and to the missionary this is one. 
 
 Miss Harris, in addition to her school duties, early gave 
 her attention to the Syriac language, and made rapid pro¬ 
 gress in the acquisition of it. Though sent out as a teacher 
 of missionary children, she could not rest contented without 
 preparing herself for usefulness to the full extent of her 
 powers; and as the school was not as large as she expected 
 to find it, her mind turned towards Nestorian females. As 
 soon as she acquired the language, she commenced the 
 instruction of native women and children, and frequented 
 the villages as she had opportunity. It is estimated that dur- 
 
 / 
 
11 
 
 ing the two years of her residence in Oroomiah, she rode on 
 horseback at least six hundred miles in visiting Nestorian 
 villages with Mr. Cochran, in whose family she principally 
 resided. Here she sowed much good seed, which we trust 
 will spring up and bring forth fruit to life eternal. The two 
 years she spent in Oroomiah were well spent, and she must 
 have looked back upon them with satisfaction. 
 
 But Providence had destined her for another field of labor. 
 The call of duty to the mountain station was a plain one, and 
 though the loss to our cherished school was irreparable, her 
 removal to another portion of our field was much to the ad¬ 
 vantage of the great cause. 
 
 On the 25th of October, 1854, the following action was 
 taken by the mission, viz: “Miss M. A. Harris having just 
 closed her connection with the school for the children of our 
 mission, for another important sphere of labor in our common 
 field, 
 
 “ Resolved, That we record our very deep sense of her 
 unwearied fidelity and great success in the instruction of our 
 children, during the two years and several months of her 
 connection with it. 
 
 “ Resolved, That we tender to Miss Harris the assurance of 
 our heartfelt thanks for her arduous and important services in 
 the school, and of our unabated interest in her welfare, and 
 our best wishes and prayers for her happiness and prosperity, 
 in the new and important relations she is about to assume.” 
 
 On the 31st of October, she was united in marriage with 
 our brother and associate, Rev. Samuel A. Rhea; and on the 
 8th of the following month, proceeded with him to Gawar, to 
 share with him the toils and self-denials of that station. His 
 associate. Rev. Edwin H. Crane, had rested from his labors 
 about two months before, and his stricken widow had with¬ 
 drawn to Oroomiah. 
 
 On reaching Gawar, Mrs. Rhea entered zealously upon the 
 discharge of every duty devolving upon her. She regarded 
 
12 
 
 it as a leading duty, to make her husband a pleasant and in¬ 
 viting home, that nothing might be wanting, which conduced 
 to his health and happiness. Her success in this respect 
 (I may say, while I would not rudely intrude into the 
 privacies of that once happy home) was complete. Every 
 thing about her house was orderly; and though plain, in good 
 taste ; and what could not escape the notice of every observer, 
 all she did was done in a quiet, noiseless way, as though 
 costing very little effort. For one so intellectual, so fond of 
 books and study, it was a marvel to some of us, that she 
 could be such a model for a housekeeper. Her character was 
 complete. She did well whatever she took in hand. In the 
 kitchen, in preparing a dinner, she manifested the same tact, 
 as in solving an arithmetical problem. It was the last of 
 November, only a few weeks after our brother and sister had 
 reached their home, that Mr. Perkins and myself made them 
 a visit, their first visit from friends abroad. A more pleasant, 
 a more happy home, no one could desire; the very abode of 
 peace, the pilgrim’s resting-place: in this vale of tears. In 
 our musings, when seated in those cheerful upper-rooms, we 
 often asked ourselves, i( Is this Gawar ? Is this Memikan, 
 that place of vermin and filth ? ” 
 
 The following winter, long and dreary as it was, our friends 
 passed in Gawar in solitude, soothed only by the conscious¬ 
 ness of being in the path of duty, and relieved by the large 
 resources of happiness, which they possessed in themselves. 
 Our sister was deeply interested in all the missionary plans 
 and labors of her husband, and such was her judgment, that 
 in many cases of perplexity, she was able to aid him by 
 her counsels. She not only managed the arduous, and often 
 perplexing domestic department of the boarding school, but 
 performed an important service in giving instruction. She 
 won the hearts of the rude pupils, as she had those of the 
 children of the mission, and they looked up to her as a 
 mother. She was indefatigable in efforts for the temporal and 
 
13 
 
 spiritual good of the females of the village. She won their 
 confidence and love, and they often came to her for advice 
 and instruction. She frequented their humble dwellings, 
 weeping with them that weep, and rejoicing with them that 
 rejoice. She visited their sick, and ministered to their wants. 
 
 When not occupied in direct efforts to be useful to others, 
 she was diligent in improving her own mind, and in laying 
 up stores of useful information. She was fond of reading, 
 and in their solitude was able to indulge her taste in this 
 respect. She joined her husband, this winter, in the study 
 of Hebrew, and read with him the book of Genesis in the 
 original. 
 
 Protracted solitude is a trial any where to the mind, and 
 no one can bear the death-like solitude of a Gawar winter 
 uninjured, who has not large resources within on which to 
 draw. Most happily our sister possessed these, and the 
 winter passed pleasantly and usefully away. 
 
 The following summer, early in August, they made their 
 first visit to Oroomiah since their marriage. Her husband, 
 accompanied by Mr. Breath, made a missionary tour in the 
 mountains, and visited Mosul. During his absence, Mrs. 
 Bhea remained in our circle, enjoying social intercourse in a 
 high degree after being so long deprived of it, and making 
 herself useful to Nestorian females in the villages, as she had 
 opportunity. 
 
 In November, they returned to their mountain home, and 
 to their routine of duty there. Another solitary winter was 
 before them ; and such a winter ! It was not enough that 
 they had to meet the extreme cold and fierce storms of 
 that treasure-house of snow; the moral elements around 
 them had caught the spirit of the natural, and the tempest 
 raged. War prevailed in the North. Turkish troops had 
 been withdrawn from Koordistan, till only a handful of men 
 were left there to control the restless and turbulent tribes of 
 that wild region. The Koord had seized the sword, was 
 
14 
 
 mustering his savage bands, and threatening to sweep all 
 order and government from the mountains. The Christian 
 population were trembling, not only for their property, but 
 for their lives. What a place for a delicate, refined and 
 sensitive female !—entirely at the mercy of the savage ; for, 
 when inflamed by fanaticism and the thirst for plunder, the 
 Koord is more than a savage. Reports of predatory and 
 bloody purposes are abroad in the community, and reach the 
 ears of our defenceless friends. We may imagine the nightly 
 visions of a house sacked by robbers—a husband falling by 
 the hand of violence, and herself the victim of monsters in 
 human form—robbing our sister of her necessary rest. We 
 shall probably never know the full amount of her sufferings, 
 during the long and anxious days and nights of that winter. 
 Great as the trial was to leave their little flock in Memikan, 
 and turn their backs on Gawar, duty obviously called them 
 to it for a time. By longer remaining there, they would 
 be tempting Providence, and running the risk of some fear¬ 
 ful disaster. But it was the dead of winter. The whole 
 region was covered with snow, and the mountain-passes lead¬ 
 ing from the district were blocked up. What should be 
 done ? The finger of Providence pointed them to Oroo- 
 miah. That indeed was their only place of refuge. They 
 started, trusting in God. It was near the last of Jan¬ 
 uary. The first day, our sister was able to ride, and for a 
 while also the second day. But on the mountain separating 
 Gawar from Oroomiah, the snows were too deep for the 
 horses to carry their riders. Our friends were obliged to 
 walk, and that too in the deep snow. For several hours 
 that day, indeed till they had nearly reached the village of 
 Basan, situated on the declivity of the mountain on the Oroo¬ 
 miah side, Mrs. Rhea was unable to mount her horse. We 
 marvel that her strength did not fail, and that she did not 
 Tall exhausted at the road-side. An unseen Hand upheld her. 
 On it she leaned, and in those trying hours purposed to be 
 
15 
 
 more entirely the Lord’s, if he would carry her and her hus¬ 
 band to Oroomiah in safety. 
 
 They reached us unharmed. After a few days of rest, 
 they went out on a tour in the villages in the diocese of Mar 
 Yohannan, during which our sister accomplished much good. 
 I have heard her spoken of, in my visits to that part of our 
 field since that time, as that ‘ agreeable, wise and excellent 
 khanum,’ (lady.) 
 
 They remained in our circle, both of them engaged in use¬ 
 ful labors, till near the last of May, when, a degree of order 
 having been restored to the mountains, they hastened to 
 resume their post there. Mrs. Crane, proposing to pass 
 some time with her early friend, as well as to discharge a sad 
 duty she owed the memory of her departed husband by visit¬ 
 ing his grave, accompanied them as far as Baradost, thirty 
 miles from Oroomiah, but was constrained to return on ac¬ 
 count of the sickness of her child. It seemed to be the will 
 of God that our sister should have no female companion in 
 Gawar. 
 
 The last of September, Mr. and Mrs. Bhea planned a tour 
 in the mountain districts beyond Gawar, where native helpers 
 were located. Their object was to visit them, and to per¬ 
 form missionary labor among the people. They started from 
 Gawar alone, but were joined in Ishtazin by Messrs. Stod¬ 
 dard and Cochran and Miss Fisk, who had left Oroomiah 
 October 1st, on a mountain tour. They visited the districts 
 of Ishtazin, Bass, Tekhoma, Tal, and Diss. No lady had 
 ever penetrated those wild and rugged regions, except the 
 near district of Ishtazin. The journey was most arduous, 
 taxing the strength of muscle and nerve to the utmost. 
 Though the effort was too great to be often repeated, Mrs. 
 Bhea was glad that she made the tour. She saw much of 
 the field to which she and her husband were devoted; she 
 visited the helpers in their homes, and could better sympa¬ 
 thize with and pray for them; she spoke the words of life to 
 
16 
 
 many perishing females ; she was made to realize more than 
 ever, how inviting her Gawar home was, in contrast with the 
 more rugged and inaccessible parts beyond. She was thus 
 prepared to spend the following winter contentedly and hap¬ 
 pily, though in solitude. 
 
 The winter passed without interruption. Government and 
 order had been partially restored. A small but interesting 
 school assembled in Memikan, and our friends were greatly 
 encouraged in their work—more so, perhaps, than at any 
 previous time since they had resided in the mountains. The 
 Holy Spirit appeared to be sealing some souls for eternal life. 
 
 For a while, during the winter, the roads were so blocked 
 up by snow, that it was impracticable for any one but a light 
 footman to pass over them. We did not hear the most favor¬ 
 able accounts of the health of our brother Rhea. What an 
 agony of anxiety we endured ! We thought of one of them 
 as sick, the other worn out with watching, and perhaps clos¬ 
 ing the dying eyes, and laying the dear one in the grave; 
 and that, too, all alone. Our hardy messengers were for a 
 time so long on the way, that all this might occur, and we 
 know nothing of it till all was over. But they were merci¬ 
 fully preserved. 
 
 The winter passed; spring opened; the snows melted 
 away; and in June our dear friends were once more on their 
 way to Oroomiah. They arrived June 18th, and continued 
 with us till July £2d, except that Mr. Rhea, in the mean¬ 
 while, made a journey to Bashkalleh and Van, in which I 
 accompanied him. The main object of their visit to Oroo¬ 
 miah, at this time, was to mingle their tears with those of 
 the crushed and broken in our circle, whose house had be¬ 
 come desolate by the sorrowful events of the past winter. 
 Our lamented sister came to cheer and comfort the bereaved 
 widow’s heart, and to weep over that dear child who had lost 
 a beloved father, and an only sister, in so short a space of 
 time. She came an angel of mercy. Her heart was full of 
 
17 
 
 love and tenderness. She seemed anointed of the Lord to 
 administer consolation to the desolate ones. So chastened, 
 so subdued, so sweet in temper and spirit—her soul so pos¬ 
 sessed of eternal realities—her large, speaking, dark eye so 
 beaming with sympathy and compassion for her mourning 
 friends—her visit could not be other than one of blessing to 
 them. The death of our beloved associate, Mr. Stoddard, 
 and of her former pupil, Harriet Stoddard, had, it was 
 thought, made a deep impression upon her mind, leading 
 her to drink deeper of the wells of salvation than ever before, 
 and to clearer views of Christ and heaven. She had taken a 
 higher stand in divine things, and, as was remarked, seemed 
 ripening for glory. Her Lord was polishing her to be a 
 jewel in his crown. It appeared in her gentle, holy walk 
 with God, and in her earnest, soul-stirring pleas at the throne 
 of grace. 
 
 July 22d, our friends were ready to return to their moun¬ 
 tain home. Mrs. Rhea had often expressed the idea, that 
 probably her husband’s days would be few, as he is at 
 times admonished that his health is not perfect. As she was 
 about leaving, she alluded to the subject again, and remarked 
 that she thought she might soon be a widow. Enjoying 
 excellent health herself, it seems hardly to have entered her 
 mind, that she might be the first to enter the grave. 
 
 We are all familiar with what transpired from this time to 
 the closing scene, from the sketch drawn up by our bereaved 
 brother, but on this occasion we may dwell on the events, 
 though it be a repetition. The religious experience of our 
 sister was remarkable during her last days. While her 
 bodily sufferings abounded, her consolations in Christ much 
 more abounded. 
 
 Our friends spent their first night at the village of Jeneza, 
 twelve miles from the city of Oroomiah. Mrs. Rhea was 
 apparently in perfect health. The next morning, just as she 
 was going out to mount her horse, she was seized with a 
 
 3 
 
18 
 
 violent paroxysm of pain, which compelled her to return to 
 the house. In the course of twenty or thirty minutes, the 
 pain subsided, and they proceeded on their journey. She 
 made the stages comfortably, except that in crossing the plain 
 of Gawar she had a return of pain, though it was not violent. 
 She was relieved by resting a while in the shade of the church 
 at Vazerawa, one hour from Memikan. They reached home 
 Friday, July 24th. The next morning our sister had a return 
 of pain, but it soon passed off; and the next day, Sabbath, she 
 attended the usual Syriac services at church, and taught her 
 class of native women. From this time till August 6th, she 
 was well. She then had another attack, and also on the 18th, 
 though the violence of these attacks was not great. On the 
 20th she went out to their garden, and on returning to the 
 house was violently attacked, so that it was with difficulty she 
 reached her room. Mr. Rhea, having hastened back from his 
 walk, found her lying on the bed in great agony. “ The 
 perspiration was bursting from every pore.” The attacks 
 being repeated and their violence so great, Mr. Rhea dis¬ 
 patched a messenger to Oroomiah, requesting me to visit her. 
 Accompanied by Miss Rice, I reached Gawar August 28th. 
 At this time, she was nearly well again—attended to all her 
 household concerns, ate heartily and with a relish. Saturday 
 evening she walked out with us to the new house, built by 
 Khamis one of their native helpers, without injury. I never 
 saw her more cheerful and happy. Though no alarming 
 symptoms appeared in her case, I should have lingered there 
 longer, if duties connected with the departure of our friends* 
 for America, had not called me home. I left Gawar Monday, 
 August 31st. At 3 o’clock in the afternoon of that day, she 
 was attacked more violently than ever. She thought that 
 death was near, and spoke freely on the subject. In the 
 language of her husband, “ Jesus seemed very near to her 
 
 * Mrs. Perkins, Henry Martyn Perkins, Mrs. Crane and child. 
 
19 
 
 during the pangs of those hours. Her soul was ravished 
 with his charms. Speaking of him she said : ( He is pure, 
 holy, lovely beyond my understanding. I long to fall at his 
 feet, and look up in his face. I long to see him more closely, 
 and understand him more perfectly. I had always turned my 
 thoughts to God, as my Father and Protector, but now Jesus, 
 so lovely and winning. Let me not be deceived. No, Jesus 
 came to save lost sinners, of whom I am chief. He will save 
 me. Who could have thought that such a wretched creature 
 as I am, would love to think of death ? There have been 
 times when I did not fear death—I love to talk about it 
 now.’ ” 
 
 From this attack she never rallied. On hearing of her 
 state, I hastened back to Gawar, reaching there Saturday 
 night, September 5th. I found her very ill. Symptoms of 
 internal inflammation had appeared. The anxiety of that 
 night, how I passed the long hours awake in the room adjoin¬ 
 ing the sick-room with a heavy heart, and how I was afraid 
 to give full expression to my fears, lest a loving husband, a 
 beloved brother, should be distressed, no one there knew. 
 
 On Monday, the 7th of September, she had another par¬ 
 oxysm of pain, the only one of the kind, which I was permit¬ 
 ted to witness. It was severe, and our hearts bled as we 
 looked upon her in her sufferings. All we did for her relief 
 seemed to produce little effect, certainly none to arrest the 
 disease, though by the use of powerful agents we sometimes 
 succeeded in palliating the severity of her sufferings, and 
 giving her partial repose. 
 
 At one time, this day, on opening her eyes, she said to 
 her husband, who supposed that she had just waked up, 
 <f No, I have been conscious of all that was passing about me. 
 My mind was very clear.” She then said, “ Jesus will not 
 take me from you now. Oh! it was so sweet, so sweet. 
 I thought I was going. There was a company of us, and 
 we were moving toward the river, and oh, so gently; and 
 
20 
 
 then I saw Jesus coming to meet me. But I did not see 
 him clearly ; so I longed to get nearer, that I might see 
 him, but after a while I turned back. Jesus did not take 
 me, but how pleasant it would have been to go then. I 
 thought if I did not open my eyes, or move, or speak, I 
 should just gently sink away in his arms, but he does not 
 take me from you now.” Subsequently, referring to her ex¬ 
 perience this day, she said, “ It was not so glorious, but so 
 gentle—just like Jesus, coming to take his children home.’’ 
 
 Some time before this, Mr. Rhea one night put his thoughts 
 into verse, and showed them to Mrs. Rhea in the morning. 
 They may have given a turn to her mind in her last days; 
 and as every such influence on a departing saint is above 
 price, I will here give the simple, expressive lines. 
 
 I want to think of Jesus, 
 
 ’Mid all my anxious cares ; 
 
 I want to lean on Jesus, 
 
 For he my burden bears. 
 
 I want to walk with Jesus, 
 
 Close to his loving side, 
 
 And see the wounds of Jesus, 
 
 And know for me he died. 
 
 I want to talk with Jesus, 
 
 And tell him all I feel, 
 
 For then I know my Jesus 
 Will me his love reveal. 
 
 I want to look at Jesus 
 
 With eye of faith and love ; 
 
 I’ll draw my strength from Jesus, 
 
 And never more can rove. 
 
 I want to pray to J esus 
 In broken, contrite tones, 
 
 And hear the voice of Jesus 
 In answer to my groans. 
 
21 
 
 I want to sing of Jesus, 
 
 Of all the sweetest name ; 
 
 The dying love of Jesus 
 
 To heaven and earth proclaim. 
 
 I want to tell of Jesus 
 To every sinner round, 
 
 That he may come to Jesus, 
 
 At last in him be found. 
 
 I want to toil for Jesus, 
 
 Oh, how he toiled for me ! 
 
 I never can pay Jesus 
 His sweat and agony. 
 
 I want to put on Jesus 
 And hide myself in him, 
 
 For ’neath the robes of Jesus 
 I’ve no more guilt and sin. 
 
 I want to sleep in Jesus, 
 
 For then ’twill not be death, 
 
 When on the breast of Jesus 
 I draw my fainting breath. 
 
 I want to live with J esus, 
 
 The endless life of love; 
 
 When safe at home with J esus, 
 In Paradise above. 
 
 I want to praise my J esus 
 On harp of burnished gold, 
 
 And shout the love of Jesus 
 Through ages yet untold. 
 
 Monday night, speaking of Christ, she said, “ He was the 
 Savior of my father, the Savior of my mother, and he will 
 be a Savior to me. I was thinking how happy was my father’s 
 
22 
 
 
 death—-just a moment, and then with Jesus ; but it is his 
 will that / should suffer.” 
 
 Mr. Rhea asked her, “ Is Jesus near ? ” She replied, “ Oh 
 yes ; so near, and he is so lovely! Whenever my severe 
 pains come on, then Jesus comes and helps me to bear them. 
 Jesus won’t leave me.” Seeing the falling tears of her hus¬ 
 band, she wiped them away with her hand, saying, “ He will 
 take care of you ; don’t feel sad.” Such expressions as these 
 were much on her lips : “ Jesus, come.” “ Wash me from all 
 my sins.” “ Make me wholly thine.” “ Oh, what a sinner 
 I have been, but Jesus is a great Savior. He is so near, so 
 lovely, I wonder I never saw him so before. Earth fades 
 away ; this world is nothing. I know there is nothing in me. 
 Don’t tell others what I say, they will think me holier than I 
 am; but it is all of Christ. Oh, shall I remember, if I get 
 well ? It would be so easy to die now ; to sink into the arms 
 of Jesus.” 
 
 The next morning, Tuesday, Mr. Rhea read to her the 
 passage, “ In my Father’s house are many mansions,” &c. 
 She said, “ Oh, the blessedness of those mansions. Jesus is 
 there. I love my home, but it may become bitter ; not so 
 those mansions above.” At another time she said, “ How 
 sweet to lie in the arms of Jesus, and have him bear me in 
 his bosom! Oh, can I be deceived ? I think not. How 
 many, far worthier than I, who did not enjoy this peace.” 
 
 She asked her husband, to-day, what I said about her case. 
 When he replied, that I considered it critical, but was still 
 hopeful, she said, her mind appearing to fasten on the word 
 critical, “ Well, dear, I am rather glad. The thought of 
 death is very pleasant. I have had no fear from the first. 
 It seems as if it would help me to bear my pains, to think of 
 a speedy release. Still, it is not because I suffer, that I wish 
 to die. I want to see Jesus, and lie at his feet.” Seeing her 
 husband affected, she said, “ You know, dear, I love you; 
 but we must love Jesus first. It will not be long until we 
 
all meet. Oh, eternity, eternity! how short will these mo¬ 
 ments then appear!” 
 
 In the afternoon, a native woman, Bessy, came in. She 
 whispered a brief prayer for her : “ Lord, bless Bessy; make 
 her a true Christian.” She wished her husband to say to 
 her, “ Meet me in heaven. I want only two things—my 
 own salvation, and the salvation of these poor women.” 
 
 On Tuesday night, when in great suffering, she prayed, 
 “ Oh, Jesus, remember thy sufferings, and if it is possible, 
 lessen mine. But not my will—thine be done.” Again she 
 said, “ Oh, could any one bear it better than I ? Perhaps so, 
 but Jesus groaned, being in agony.” Of heaven she said, 
 “ Oh, that home! No more sin, nor sorrow, nor restless¬ 
 ness.” “ Tell brothers and sisters, I never regret that I gave 
 myself to the missionary work.” 
 
 She said again, “ I think I do love Jesus. It seemed last 
 winter, as if I loved him so much, because he was pleased to 
 bless our labors. Oh, I did love those converts, and I was 
 so happy in the thought of their loving Christ.” When 
 asked by her husband, if at any time she was troubled with 
 doubts, she replied, “No ; none at all. I don’t know why 
 Jesus comforts such a poor sinner as I have been. All is 
 bright, and calm, and peaceful—not because of any thing in 
 me ; all is of Jesus. He knows I could not bear my suffer¬ 
 ings, if he did not come near me. Oh, sweet love, your 
 love; but more than all, the love of Jesus. When I am 
 easier, then I do not think so much of being happy, as to see 
 if my feet are on the rock. Then it is no matter about joy ; 
 that will come just as my Savior pleases. But when I am 
 suffering, it relieves me, soothes me, to talk of Jesus, and 
 the joy he gives me. Then I think more of being happy, 
 and Jesus gives me joy.” Once she asked, “Will Jesus 
 leave me ? ” Her husband repeated the words, “ I will 
 never leave thee nor forsake thee.” “ Oh, yes,” she said; 
 “ but I must be careful, lest my eye should be turned away 
 
24 
 
 from Christ to my sufferings, and I should think of them 
 more than of Jesus.” She prayed one night, while in severe 
 pain, “ Jesus, come. Stand by me. Thou wilt support 
 me. Thou wilt cleanse me. Thou didst cleanse the dying 
 thief.” 
 
 At another time, she said to her husband, “ My sickness 
 is not because I became a missionary. My brothers and 
 sisters will know this. The Lord has sent it. I never 
 thought I should suffer much. I always thought you would 
 go first.” Though racked with pain, and her whole frame 
 at times shaking like a leaf in the wind, her heart was full of 
 gratitude. She was grateful for every thing ; for her pleas¬ 
 ant room, facing the east, and looking out upon the plain, 
 like the “ chamber of peace ; ” grateful that her sickness did 
 not occur in winter, when they were alone ,* grateful for 
 every thing done for her by her husband, Miss Rice, and my¬ 
 self. Though her sufferings were so great, she was thought¬ 
 ful of our health and comfort. She urged us in turn to 
 leave her bedside, and go out for exercise. 
 
 Having employed various remedies for her relief with 
 little effect, she noticed my anxious look, and said, “ Doctors 
 think they must cure ; but though you don’t cure me, you 
 must not think your coming was in vain. You have helped 
 to take care of me.” 
 
 Though she made great effort to restrain herself, her suf¬ 
 ferings would sometimes find expression in groans, and toss¬ 
 ings on the bed. At such times she often prayed, “ Let me 
 not dishonor God, but may I have grace to suffer as long as 
 it is his will.” One night, as I was watching by her, she 
 asked, “ How long do you think I could live and suffer so ? ’’ 
 To my reply, that I did not know certainly, but not long, 
 she said, “ My sufferings will end. What if they were 
 eternal ? ” ff When my eye is fixed on Jesus, I am easier. 
 When my eye turns from him, my pains seem more than I 
 can bear.” Dear saint! thine eye was fixed on Jesus ; truly 
 
25 
 
 thou didst fulfill the words of the Apostle, “ Looking unto 
 Jesus.” 
 
 One morning, after having watched by her during several 
 hours of great suffering in the night, she said to me pleas¬ 
 antly, as I entered her room, “ What a patient you had last 
 night! It makes me unhappy to think how impatient I was.” 
 She seemed really distressed that she had given expression 
 to her pains so much. I tried to comfort her, for I felt 
 keenly for her, assuring her that to me she had not appeared 
 at all impatient—that the flesh was weak—that her poor 
 body was racked with pain — that impatience was in the 
 spirit, and that I did not see how a weak mortal could pos¬ 
 sibly show a more patient, submissive spirit, than she did. 
 She once said, “ It may be the Lord intends to purify me by 
 these pains ; and oh, if I may be led by them to hate all sin, 
 how should I rejoice to bear them ! ” In an agony she 
 prayed, “ Lord, canst thou not sanctify me by this ? Is more 
 necessary ? It will be all in vain, unless sanctified by God.” 
 
 Some expressions in a note from Mrs. Stoddard, as “ not 
 one pang more than is necessary,” “ mixed with the tender- 
 est love,” had made an impression on her mind, and were 
 often repeated by her, adding, “ Sweet is Jesus’ will.” Once 
 she said to me, “ Perhaps these severe pains are necessary to 
 make me willing to die. Life was pleasant to me—so pleas¬ 
 ant, and I was so well, that I might not have been willing 
 to depart without them.” When the words, “ Come unto 
 me, &c., and I will give you rest,” were repeated to her, 
 she dwelt on the word rest, saying, “ Rest, rest; it will be 
 sweet.” 
 
 On Thursday night, after various means had been em¬ 
 ployed to furnish relief, but without success, she said, “ Why 
 not leave me to die ? ” Then adding, “ That was wrong ; 
 I will wait all my appointed time.” In the language of 
 her bereaved husband, “ During her sickness, she was 
 delighted to have me pray with her, and repeat passages 
 
 4 
 
of Scripture and favorite hymns. Often during the silent 
 watches of the night I would, while sitting by her bedside, 
 lay my head on her pillow, and whisper a prayer. Very 
 often it soothed her into quiet rest.” 
 
 When asked by her husband, what verses of Scripture 
 were most precious to her, she said, 44 Like these : ‘For the 
 Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.’ 
 ‘ Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom 
 I am chief . 5 4 Able to save unto the uttermost.’ ” Her hus¬ 
 band read to her many scores of very precious hymns, which 
 were cheering to her spirit, and in his language, 44 kindled 
 anew her ardent longing to see Jesus, and taste the blessed¬ 
 ness of heaven.” The last hymn sung in her room was the 
 one beginning, 44 Jesus, lover of my soul.” Miss Rice 
 played on the melodeon. Those hymns were the dearest to 
 her, which dwelt most on Him whom her soul loved. 44 She 
 spoke of how much she had learned of Jesus in two weeks, 
 and compared it with what she had learned during her life¬ 
 time before.” 
 
 Our afflicted brother writes, 44 The last book which we 
 read together was the Memoir of Richard Williams, of the 
 Patagonian mission, illustrating, in such a wonderful manner, 
 the power of the love of Jesus to fill the heart with joy un¬ 
 speakable and full of glory, amidst scenes of deep distress. 
 She alluded to it more than once in her sickness. I doubt 
 not it had its influence in kindling her love to Jesus. Dur¬ 
 ing the first days of her illness, she enjoyed much in listen¬ 
 ing to a little book entitled, 4 It is I,’ read to her by Miss 
 Rice. Every thing that brought Jesus near her thoughts, 
 had peculiar attractions.” 
 
 Friday night was one of great suffering to our sister. 
 Once she said, 44 Oh, that I knew why I thus suffer ; if for 
 some sin, that I might repent of it; if for some good, that I 
 might seek it. But I know it is right.” It was in this night 
 that she spoke of her resolutions to be more faithful in the 
 
service of God, which she formed on that perilous journey 
 to Oroomiah, and also at the time of the death of our brother 
 Stoddard. Once she said, “ Oh, this longing for death ; may 
 it be pure. When I feel better, I am content to live. I 
 have loved my home and my husband too much. I hope 
 one day we shall fall together at the feet of Jesus, and kiss 
 them. How happy we have lived together ! I have not 
 helped you heavenward enough.” Her prayer once was, 
 “ Oh, Jesus, thou who didst dwell on earth, come dwell in 
 this room, and fill our hearts with thy holiness and love. 
 Jesus, the chief among ten thousand. Oh, that all might 
 love him. His name is sweet. The very mention of it 
 soothes me.” Once she said, “ I have not thought enough 
 of the Holy Spirit, who comforts me, and gives me these 
 views of Jesus.” 
 
 Sabbath morning, as it grew light, she said to Miss Rice, 
 who was watching with her, “ The darkness is past; may the 
 light of Jesus’ countenance shine upon me. Pray that this 
 day may be a foretaste of heaven.” By Miss Rice she sent 
 a message to her class of native women in the Sabbath school. 
 “ Tell them now to give their hearts to Him who loved them. 
 I cannot talk to them, but I shall pray for them.” The 
 evening of this day she said, “ This has been a happy day to 
 me ; Jesus near. Oh, the peace that passeth all understand¬ 
 ing. What joys are laid up for those who love him ! No 
 eye hath seen, nor ear heard.” 
 
 Monday morning, September 14th, she had some respite 
 from severe pain, from the effect of an opiate. As her hus¬ 
 band entered the room, her first words were, “ Oh, what 
 sweet thoughts I have had of Jesus ! I am so afraid I shall 
 lose the sweetness of his name, if I should get well; but he 
 can help me, so that I shall not lose its savor even amid the 
 busy cares of this life. How strange that I slept; but I 
 must not be confident. My severe pains may return. Many 
 days and nights of severe sufferings may be appointed me. 
 
28 
 
 Just as God wills—ease or pain, life or death ; I must have 
 no will of my own.” Again, she said to her husband, “ For 
 some days, when I was feeling a little better, I felt satisfied 
 to come back and live, though I am so afraid I should forget 
 the lessons Jesus has taught me. Still, if I might grow in 
 grace every day, it might be as well to live as to die ; but it 
 would be sweet to die and be with Jesus, and never sin any 
 more. You will not think that I do not love you. Don’t 
 you think Jesus would sustain you ? ” 
 
 She spoke much of death to-day. At one time she said, 
 “ If I die, give my love to dear brothers and sisters, and tell 
 them I have had three of the kindest nurses ; not one wish 
 that has not been gratified; not a comfort that I desired, that 
 has not been granted to me. So far as I can see, my illness 
 is owing to no imprudence. I was quite well during our 
 journey home, until the last hour. Oh, how thankful I am 
 that it did not take place in winter, when we were all alone. 
 As my sickness has advanced, God has increased my com¬ 
 forts. When in Jeneza, I thought if I could only get home 
 I should be satisfied. I did not think I should have such 
 tender care during my illness.” At another time she said, 
 “ Every step of my life has been ordered by God. I never 
 had one regret that I came here. I loved to teach the chil¬ 
 dren in Oroomiah, and I have loved to labor in the moun¬ 
 tains. I thought I should labor many years. I want my 
 brothers and sisters to know, that I never had a wish that I 
 had not come to the Nestorians. I rejoice that I could labor 
 for them a little while.” 
 
 She took a lively interest in the native converts. It was 
 on this Monday, that she spoke to Miss Rice of that interest¬ 
 ing and remarkable case of hopeful conversion in Dara.* 
 “ Her bright eye,” as Miss Rice states, “ Vas full of expres- 
 
 * A young man in this Gawar village, who had never been much under the 
 influence of the friends of the truth, had recently died a triumphant death, 
 giving the fullest testimony to the grace and power of Christ. 
 
29 
 
 sion, as she said, I love to think of that young man. I hope 
 he was saved.” 
 
 She spoke to-day tenderly of her brothers and sisters in 
 America, saying, “I would like to write them.” Of Dr. 
 Harris she said, “ How kind he has been to me ! ” and then, 
 alluding to a conversation with him during a dangerous 
 sickness of his own wife, added, “He brought Jesus so 
 near. For a moment I thought I saw him, and oh, how 
 strengthening! ” 
 
 Of her brothers and sisters, she said to her husband, 
 “ They will love you very tenderly, and they will always 
 love you, and be brothers and sisters to you.” Alluding to 
 the relatives of her husband, whom she had never seen, she 
 said, “ I have often longed to see them, but it will not be 
 long, I trust, ere we meet in heaven. If I die, tell them to 
 meet me there. Your dear father, perhaps, will not remain 
 long behind.” 
 
 It was this day, that a messenger was sent to Oroomiah. 
 Her husband asked her, if she had any word for friends 
 there. “ Give my love to them. Give them a great deal 
 of love. Tell them not to pray so much that I may get 
 well, as that I may be happy in God’s will; if my suffering 
 be long, that I may be cheerful, rejoice in it.” Speaking of 
 the children here, she said, “ Those dear children, oh that I 
 might see them in the way to heaven.” 
 
 Alluding to the remedies employed for her relief, she said, 
 “ I did for a time feel some anxiety that they might relieve 
 me, but now I have no wish whatever about that.” Refer¬ 
 ring to the spirit of submission, which she had attained, she 
 said to Miss Rice, “ I can give Mr. Rhea up now. I am 
 willing to live, and sorrow.” She always before had the 
 impression, that she should survive her husband, but had 
 never been able to acquiesce in the thought of such an 
 event. She spoke of submission to the divine will, as in 
 her view the best evidence of a child of God. Referring to 
 
30 
 
 a remark of Cowper,—she and her husband had recently 
 read Dr. Cheever’s lectures on that poet,—that if he knew 
 it was God’s will that he should go to hell, and if by lifting 
 his little finger he could prevent it, he would not do it, she 
 said, “ Not that kind of submission, for it is not his will 
 that any should perish. How could I be willing to be 
 shut out of his glorious presence, and never more speak his 
 sweet name. Praise him that he ever inclined me to seek 
 him.” 
 
 When Miss Pice to-day brought her a bottle of cologne, she 
 said, “ This reminds me of their anointing Jesus. How I 
 should love to pour it on his head and feet.” Once her eyes 
 filled with tears, at a time of severe pain, and looking up 
 she said, “ Just as long as it may please thee, oh Savior.” 
 “ You ”—her husband was standing by her —“ are weary 
 of hearing my groans ; may I never be weary of looking 
 unto Jesus ” One of the native women standing by, she 
 said, “ I thank God, that some of the poor people know how 
 to die—have learned to look to Jesus in a dying hour.” 
 
 Her husband asked her if she was happy. She replied, 
 “ I think so. My mind is very clear. Jesus has forgiven 
 all my sins. He is not quite so near as I wish him to be ; 
 still I think he does stand by me. He won’t let me sink. 
 If I take my eyes from Jesus one moment, I sink. Every 
 moment requires almighty power to sustain me.” “ It seems 
 to me that I am the chief of sinners, but then Jesus takes 
 me, and says, I will cleanse thee from all thy stains.” “ I 
 love to think of Christ as my tender friend. It seems now 
 as if one great reason why he suffered, was to convince us 
 of his love.” 
 
 She said again, “ I wonder that I look forward so calmly 
 to death. Oh, could I believe that I should go down to the 
 grave without one cloud?” “ Jesus, reveal thyself to me. 
 Let me see thy face. Manifest thy love, if not in healing, in 
 supporting me. Jesus, help me to bear all for thee. I am 
 
31 
 
 so weak, but Jesus will bear me in his arms, the weakest of 
 all his flock.” 
 
 Monday was followed by a night of great restlessness, and 
 Tuesday morning found her exhausted, and her spirit worn. 
 She said to her husband as he entered the room, “Pray 
 for me, I don’t want to be impatient. I want to lie in his 
 hands without one groan, and bear it all; but my poor body 
 is broken down; my strength is all gone.” Yes, dear child 
 of God, we who ministered at your bedside, and with burst¬ 
 ing hearts witnessed your agonizing pains, will testify to the 
 truth of what you say.* 
 
 It was obvious to us all, that her sufferings were far greater 
 than one would infer from the outward expression of them. 
 She clung to the Lord Jesus, in the midst of her bodily ago¬ 
 nies, with a firm grasp, and his grace and power were marvel¬ 
 ously displayed in cheering and sustaining his handmaid. 
 We could but admire, and adore. 
 
 Tuesday, the 15th, her malady moved steadily on towards 
 a crisis. She was evidently sinking away. Some symptoms 
 appeared, which precluded the hope of recovery. From 
 eight to twelve o’clock the following night, I watched by her 
 side. A portion of that time she was more easy, but the last 
 hour and a half, her sufferings were excruciating ; and oh, 
 how my heart ached for her, and what more could I do for 
 her than I had done ? The hour seemed a day, and, as her 
 dear husband came in, my heart ached for him as he must be 
 a witness of her agonies as I had been. At two o’clock we 
 made another attempt to procure some repose for her, which 
 
 * It is the opinion of learned physicians, that the malady which so suddenly 
 and so fatally prostrated this beloved missionary, though very obscure and un¬ 
 common, is necessarily one of the most painfully agonizing and incurable of 
 all acute diseases ; and it should be further stated upon the same authority, 
 that this fatal malady was probably in no respect the result of the peculiar ex¬ 
 posures, vicissitudes and labors incident to this sister’s missionary life ; nor 
 would the result probably have been different had Providence ordered that her 
 last sickness should be endured by her in America, rather than amid the 
 mountains of Koordistan .—Note by an American Physician. 
 
32 
 
 it seemed she must have, or die, from the intensity of her 
 sufferings, and this time we were successful. She soon fell 
 into a sleep, which continued for a little while. After this 
 she had no violent paroxysms of pain, but every symptom 
 was unfavorable. As I entered her room Wednesday morn¬ 
 ing, after a few hours of rest, I read in her face, as my 
 eye fell upon it, the sad truth that the hand of death was 
 upon her, and that she would soon be called to pass the dark 
 river. 
 
 Her words to-day were few. These few, like those which 
 fell from her lips on previous days, were all clear, evincing 
 a tender love to her Savior, and an eye fixed on him. In 
 the forenoon her husband said to her, “ Martha, is Jesus 
 near ? ” Her prompt reply was, “ Oh yes,” and as often as 
 this question was put to her, this was her reply. When asked 
 by him if she could join in a prayer in a soft, gentle tone, 
 she said, “ I am too faint, I can only pray a word or two at a 
 time.” Once she said to him, “ Thank Jesus that he does 
 not leave me.” 
 
 In the afternoon, seeing the flowing tears of her husband, 
 she beckoned to him to lean over her. She then threw her 
 arms around his neck, and gave him her farewell embrace. 
 When near four o’clock, he asked her if she had any pain. 
 She replied, “Not much; oh, it is so easy,” alluding no 
 doubt to her death. 
 
 Not long after this, she said, “ My thoughts are very clear, 
 but I can’t express them. You don’t understand me.” He 
 replied, “ Yes, we understand perfectly.” When asked by 
 him, if she had any word for brothers or sisters, with an 
 effort she said, “ In Oroomiah ? ” Mr. Rhea replied, “Yes, 
 and in America.” A few moments passed, when she said, 
 though with some difficulty, “ I will see, perhaps—.” These 
 were her last words. 
 
 4 
 
 Still, after this her hearing was distinct, and she would reply 
 to questions by a nod of the head, or gentle pressure of the 
 
hand, that “ .Tesus was near,” “ All was bright.” It was at 
 this time that the lines were gently repeated in her hearing : 
 
 “ And let this feeble body fail, 
 
 And let it faint or die ; 
 
 My soul shall quit the mournful vale, 
 
 And soar to worlds on high : 
 
 “ Shall join the disembodied saints, 
 
 And find its long-sought, rest, 
 
 (That only bliss for which it pants,) 
 
 Tn the Redeemer’s breast.” 
 
 Also the lines: 
 
 “ Jesus can make a dying bed 
 
 Feel soft as downy pillows are ; 
 
 While on his breast I lean my head, 
 
 And breathe my life out sweetly there.” 
 
 The pulse gradually failed—the breath became shorter— 
 till just at the sun-set hour, the spirit of the dear one took its 
 upward flight with a convoy of angels, and all that was left 
 with us were her lifeless remains, her earthly tabernacle. 
 She had lived twenty-nine years, five months and twelve 
 days. 
 
 During the day, the people of the village had been coming 
 in, taking a last look at the sinking one, and retiring with 
 flowing tears, saying, “God is taking away our light.” 
 When the scene closed, several of them were around the bed, 
 and many others soon gathered in. Deacon Tamo led in an 
 affecting and appropriate prayer. On Friday, the 18th, 
 funeral services were conducted in Syriac in the village 
 church, in the presence of a deeply sympathizing audience; 
 after which we performed the last sad rites to the dear depart¬ 
 ed, laying her remains by the side of those of our brother 
 
 5 
 
Crane, in the little picket enclosure, made a few days before 
 by our now bereaved brother, there to rest till the morn of 
 the resurrection. 
 
 It is needless that I dwell on the well-known character of 
 the dear one whom we mourn. But two or three points 
 were so marked in it, that I cannot refrain from alluding to 
 them. It must have been obvious to us all, that she was en¬ 
 dowed with an intellect of rare strength and clearness , and 
 that it was richly cultivated. Her mind grasped very difficult 
 and abstruse subjects. The solving of problems in Arithme¬ 
 tic and the higher mathematics was a pastime to her. If she 
 had made this department a special study, she would not 
 have fallen a whit behind distinguished professors of this 
 branch of learning in our colleges. But there was nothing 
 one-sided in her intellect. She easily acquired every species of 
 knowledge. Her attainments in English literature were very 
 considerable. She was fond of languages. Of her own tongue 
 she had an excellent knowledge. She wrote with precision 
 and power. She readily acquired the Syriac language, and 
 used it effectively. Of French she had a respectable knowl¬ 
 edge ; and, as has been already stated, she mastered the rudi¬ 
 ments of Hebrew. Her mental culture was superior. When 
 young, she had carefully improved her opportunities. She 
 used to say, the remark was often made by some persons, 
 that, if they could live life over again, they would better im¬ 
 prove such and such opportunities for mental culture; but, 
 for her own part, she did not see how she could have made 
 more of hers than she had done. 
 
 Her strong and clear intellect shone out with wonderful 
 brightness during her protracted and painful illness. Disease, 
 instead of weakening, seemed to strengthen it. We were 
 often astonished by the beauty of her expressions, as well as 
 by the clearness of her ideas. 
 
 We must all have observed also, that energy of character 
 ivas beautifully blended with gentleness of heart and refine- 
 
merit of manner, in our departed sister. She left the paternal 
 roof, to seek a field of usefulness in the far West, even when 
 her father was reluctant that she should go out from him 
 to meet the conflicts of life. She bade adieu to her kin¬ 
 dred and country at the call of duty, a solitary female. 
 And at every step since, in the course of her missionary 
 life, both in Oroomiah and in Gawar, she has exhibited a 
 strength of heart and energy of character truly admirable. 
 With all this strength and efficiency were united great gen¬ 
 tleness and refinement. She possessed no rough, repulsive 
 points—in disposition, in manner, all was quiet, gentle, deli¬ 
 cate, lovely, winning. 
 
 Her self-control was remarkable. Rarely, if ever, was she 
 highly excited. When tried, as every female missionary 
 often is by the people around her, or by her domestics, she 
 never sharply retorted under the impulse of the moment, but 
 possessed her soul in patience, and sought retirement. 
 
 Her piety was deep and controlling, characterized by prin¬ 
 ciple rather than by emotion. Strong as her mental powers 
 were, they were all brought into entire subjection to the 
 divine will. Her mind, her heart, her whole soul were laid 
 on the altar, a whole sacrifice to the Lord Jesus. Her devo¬ 
 tion was supreme. In her religious exercises there was 
 nothing ecstatic or fitful. Her piety was rather like the 
 broad, deep, gently flowing river, than the shallow, narrow, 
 noisy stream. 
 
 But I detain you, brethren and sisters, too long, though 
 we love to dwell on this theme, and cherish these precious 
 memories. To our sorrowing brother, if I could, I would 
 speak some word of comfort to reach his wounded spirit; I 
 would pom- the oil of healing into his lacerated heart ; but 
 I know not what to say. His grief is too great to be med¬ 
 dled with. But, dear brother, your treasure is not lost; 
 it is safe in heaven. Your beloved has only gone before, 
 entered into rest, and awaits your coming. As she sweetly 
 
36 
 
 said to you, wiping away your flowing tears, as you stood by 
 her bedside, “You will soon follow.” “The Lord will take 
 care of you.” “All is right.” You prize her love. She 
 loves you still, and that too with a purer, more holy love. 
 As she longed to do, she has fallen at Jesus’ feet; she has 
 looked lovingly into his face ; she has realized all she hoped 
 for, while a pilgrim here with you. 
 
 Beloved brethren and sisters, we too are hastening on to 
 the end of our pilgrimage. The departed was one, whose 
 sound health promised a longer life than that of most of us ; 
 but health is no security against the inroad of disease. The 
 time is short, very short. Let us live and labor with eternity 
 just in view, looking unto Jesus. 
 
 And to you, dear children, a voice, a loud voice comes. 
 Your beloved teacher has gone—she will write you no more 
 sweet notes— she will sing with you no more sweet songs— 
 you will no more welcome her in our circle, as you used to 
 do, gathering around and sitting at her feet, and looking up 
 into her .full, clear, speaking eye. No ; she has gone from 
 our sight, to live with Jesus in heaven. Look unto him as 
 she did—love and serve him as she did—and then you too 
 shall go and live with him forever, in that house not made 
 with hands, above. 
 
 It was inquired of Mrs. Rhea on the last day, “ Have you 
 any message for brothers and sisters?” “In Oroomiah?” 
 she asked. “ Yes, and America,” was the answer. “ I will 
 see; perhaps—” was the only reply she was able to make. 
 
 Unseat was the message—the dying lips sealed, 
 
 The last thoughts of that heart were never revealed ; 
 Yet, oh send us, dearest, some message of love, 
 
 Bid some whisper reach us from mansions above. 
 
Oh tell us, who faint in the wearisome way, 
 
 Of the rest that awaits in the regions of clay; 
 
 Oh for a sweet glimpse of that blessed abode— 
 
 Of the fullness of joy in the presence of God. 
 
 We’d know in what language the ransomed repeat 
 Their wonders of love, as they fall at his feet: 
 
 We’d know in what language the Seraphim raise, 
 
 As they bend ’neath the throne, their anthems of praise. 
 
 Forbid us to mourn over loved ones who sleep ; 
 
 While we see not their bliss, their absence we weep. 
 
 Oh tell how, amid all the glories above, 
 
 They remember us still, and cease not to love. 
 
 And oh tell how far our conceptions above, 
 
 Is the wonderful height of our Savior’s love; 
 
 How, while endless ages onward shall roll, 
 
 Its fullness can meet all the wants of the soul. 
 
 And oh tell of that wisdom, that guides all our way ; 
 
 Oh could we but know, we should haste to obey : 
 
 Tell how, while the heirs of his glory he’ll prove, 
 
 He’ll never take from them the arms of his love. 
 
 Oroomiah , Oct. 27 , 1857 . 
 

 
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