Daughters of the Cross: or Woman's Mission Part 12

In early youth she was distinguished for numerous traits of character which adorn and elevate the young man or woman and render them deserving of esteem. While yet a child she was remarkable for her veracity and honesty.

Her mind seemed to dread a wicked or deceitful thing; and in all her intercourse with her parents and her young a.s.sociates there was a n.o.ble frankness which opened to her the hearts of all. The earliest lessons of her childhood were calculated to impress her mind with the enormity of all falsehood and the value of truth; and as she grew up to womanhood she was distinguished for this endearing virtue.

Gentleness of disposition was another characteristic of Miss Hawes. She seemed formed to weep with those who weep, to sympathize with those who were distressed, to administer consolation to the torn heart of affliction.

When by the bedside of the dying, or in the homes of bereavement and sorrow, her hand was gentle and her voice mild and musical. There was a sweet and un.o.btrusive kindness of manner, a mild and touching sympathy, which won the heart of the sufferer and introduced her at once to the inner temple of the wounded spirit.

She early became familiar with the Holy Bible. Time which many young persons give to foolish and vain reading was spent over the book of G.o.d; and, when young in life, she was more familiar with the history and poetry of the Old Testament than are many persons at an advanced age. Her young mind seemed to enter with intense interest and delight into the scenes described by patriarchs and prophets and so beautifully discoursed upon by the sweet singers of Israel.

While in her tenth year Mary E. was called to part with a brother younger than herself. Notwithstanding her extreme youth, she received this affliction with all the philosophic calmness of mature life. While her father and mother were weeping around the bedside of the dying boy, while their hearts were almost broken by this new stroke of divine Providence, the little daughter clung around them, and in their ears whispered words of peace and hope. The hymns of consolation which they had taught her to sing she now rehea.r.s.ed to them; and many a word of confidence in G.o.d which they had uttered in bar hearing she now called up from the depths of memory, to comfort their hearts and mitigate their sorrows. Her conduct at such an hour was a restoring cordial to the wounded hearts of the parents, who found in the heavenly mindedness of one child consolation for the loss of another.

Shortly after the death of this brother Mary became in heart and life a Christian. She pa.s.sed through that mysterious change which some denominate "regeneration;" which she described by the expression, "I have found G.o.d."

The cautious father waited long ere he advised his child to make a public profession of the religion of Christ. She was very young, and liable to be deceived; and he wished her to examine well the foundation of her hope, and see whereon it was built. He could not endure the idea that she should enter the church without a saving, evangelical change, and subst.i.tute the sprinkling of water for the baptism of blood. Hence from time to time he deferred the subject until his doubts all vanished; until the correct, consistent deportment of his child subdued the fears of parental fondness; until the world became impressed with the religious character of the young disciple. Then he led her to the altar, broke to her the bread of life, and welcomed her to the tribes of G.o.d.

From this time her life was one of true, consistent piety. That cautious father never to the day of her death had occasion to regret the union formed between her and the people of G.o.d. To her young Christian a.s.sociates she was a pattern of excellence, and to her many an eye was turned for a good and faithful example. Nor were the expectations formed of her at all disappointed. She lived no dubious life; hers was not a strange, erratic piety. Brighter and brighter grew her sun, until it set, _at noon_, in a flood of light and glory.

No sooner Was she a member of the church than she began to feel the importance of being a faithful laborer in the vineyard of G.o.d. The false views which so many have of the church relation she did not cherish. She did not regard the church as a place of rest and repose--a spot where she would be free from temptation, trials, and toils. On the contrary, she clearly saw the obligations which are laid upon a servant of G.o.d, and determined to discharge them to the best of her ability. To her young friends she stated her own feelings, and urged them to love the same Savior and embrace the same religion. With all the ardor of a young convert, and all the enthusiasm of a soul inspired by the hopes of heaven, she presented to their minds the value of faith in Christ and the necessity of a new heart, and, by all the arguments and motives within her reach, besought them to love and serve G.o.d.

Nor was she satisfied with this alone. She labored with her hands and contributed of her money to advance the glory of G.o.d. Impressed with the importance of missions, she formed a society among her young a.s.sociates to sew and knit for the purpose of providing clothing for the families who were abroad. For this circle of children, which convened from time to time, she prepared work and furnished employment until a box was ready, and, under the direction of older friends, sent to a missionary who was laboring for G.o.d in distant China.

As she grew older, her missionary interest increased. The claims of a dying world were spread out before her, and her heart burned to be on heathen soil where the gospel had never been preached and where the story of Christ had never been told. She felt for dying men as she saw them, in all the degradation of heathenism, bowing down to wood and stone and worshipping the lifeless images which can neither see nor speak. The sunken condition of heathen females, denied their legal and moral rights, deprived of the advantages which elevate the other s.e.x, drew her attention and claimed her sympathy. The missionary concert was regularly attended; the Missionary Herald was regularly read; the missionary contribution was regularly paid.

In the Sabbath school she was a devoted and successful laborer. Her place in the cla.s.s was occupied except in cases of necessity; and for the children committed to her trust she felt deep and anxious solicitude. Often in her closet and in the place of social prayer did she commend them to the gracious care of G.o.d and pray that they might all be members of the fold of Christ.

There were two circ.u.mstances which had powerful influence upon her religious life and character, and which, to some extent, seem to have given a direction to after years.

The _first_ was a season of sickness by which Miss H. was brought to the borders of the grave. This occurred in the summer of 1841. The season of sickness became an inestimable blessing. It gave her time for reflection such as she seldom obtained, and led her to feel the vanity of human life and the emptiness of earthly pleasures and joys. She saw in her own wasting form and pallid cheek the evidences of mortality, and, realized the necessity of securing treasure in the heavens, where sickness and death will never disturb the visions of peace.

The _second_ circ.u.mstance was the revival which occurred in the congregation with which she was connected in the same year of her illness.

That revival was deep, powerful, all-pervading. The Church fell upon her bended knees before the throne of G.o.d; the wayward disciple came, with tears and penitence, and besought forgiveness of G.o.d and the Church. The old man, with his white locks and streaming eyes, asked, "What shall I do to be saved?" The, young and gay were turned from sin and vanity and led to seek an interest in the world's only Savior. The whole city felt the influence of the work of grace; and the sceptic, in amazement, asked, "What do these things mean?"

On one communion occasion about one hundred united with that one church, most of whom were young in years and strong in heart. The prayers of G.o.d's people were answered; the labors of the church were crowned with the divine blessing; and a season such as causes joy in heaven among the angelic hosts was enjoyed.

This revival was like a purifying fire to our subject. As a matter of course, she became deeply interested in its progress and results. Led to prayer and effort, she realized the worth of souls, the value of religion, the bliss of heaven, and the horror of despair; and, as one young a.s.sociate after another gave her heart to G.o.d, the young disciple was full of joy.

In 1843 Miss Hawes was called seriously to decide upon a missionary life.

She well knew the trials of such a life. In her father's house she had often met with those who had tried "the life of danger and death," and had returned broken down with disease and sorrow. She had listened to the narration of their labors, their sufferings, and their success, and was better prepared to judge of the privations and pain to be experienced than most who depart on such errands of mercy.

But the decision was soon made. When it became evident to her mind that she could be more useful in Turkey than in America, when it was settled that duty to G.o.d and a dying world required her to leave home and native land, when Jesus seemed to beckon her away, the question was soon settled, and settled in such a manner as to involve a separation from loved friends and a removal from all the enjoyments of a civilized country.

On the 4th of September, 1843, Miss Hawes was married to Rev. Henry J. Van Lennep: and, amid familiar scenes and countenances, the father gave his daughter to her missionary husband, to the toils and sacrifices of a missionary life. The pious and happy couple immediately started on a short pleasure tour previous to sailing for the East, where they were to labor and die. The time which intervened between the joyful marriage service and the sad departure was crowded with incidents of a thrilling character; and the month was one of excitement, anxiety, and care.

Mr. Van Lennep was a missionary under the patronage of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions. He was destined for Turkey, to which Oriental clime he was about to take his fair companion. In him Miss Hawes found a tender and devoted husband, who, when her sickness came and weary hours were appointed unto her, watched over her with the most considerate attention, and deprived himself of rest and sleep that he might cheer his sick and dying companion, whom he had taken from a home of plenty, ease, refinement, and luxury, and removed to a cheerless and lonely spot, to labor with him for the perishing.

It required no slight effort for Mrs. Van Lennep to part with so many familiar scenes and go forth to return no more. There was her mother, whom she tenderly loved, and whose declining years she had hoped to comfort and cheer. How could she leave that parent? How could she say "Farewell,"

and do it with the consciousness that she should gaze upon that mild countenance and that loved form no more? How could she take that hand which had led her up to womanhood,--a hand which wiped her brow when sick and suffering, and wet her throbbing temples when pained with fever,--how could she grasp it for the last time?

Then there was her Sabbath school cla.s.s, over which she had prayed and wept, and to the members of which she had imparted instruction so often and so tenderly.

There was also the house of G.o.d, in which she had so often heard the music of a father's voice; the Sabbath bell, which had so often called her to the temple and the place of prayer; the organ, whose tones had often thrilled her soul as she sat with the worshipping a.s.sembly, chanting the praise of G.o.d. How could she leave all these? The separation cost an effort such as those only know who have made the trial.

She sailed from Boston, in company with her husband and father, in the bark Stamboul, on the 11th of October, 1843. The Stamboul was a fine vessel; and our missionaries were well accommodated on board. The gentlemanly officers and crew omitted nothing which could render the situation of the female voyager pleasant and comfortable as a "life on the ocean wave" would allow.

Besides this, the kindness of friends had provided every little comfort and convenience which could be needed; and the trunks and boxes of Mrs. Van Lennep were stored with articles which her Hartford and Boston friends had gathered for her use. She went out, not as Mrs. Newell went, on a cold, severe day, with but few comforts, with but few conveniences, with but few friends to: bid her farewell, with no sermon, no song, no prayer on the deck; but every thing which money could purchase or the ingenuity of friends devise was brought forward to add to her comfort. Before the Stamboul sailed a service was held on board, which was attended by deeply-interested friends. The missionaries, the pa.s.sengers, the crew were committed to the care of G.o.d. The parting hymn rose on the breeze, echoed over the waves, and its sad strains died away on the hearts of the listeners. The parting hand was given; and as kind friends left the deck the ropes were loosed, and in n.o.ble style the vessel swept out into the harbor, and the mother and child gazed upon each other for the last time.

"Ye who, forsaking all, At your loved Master's call, Comforts resign, Soon will your work be done; Soon will the prize be won; Brighter than yonder sun Ye soon shall shine."

Most of the voyage was spent by Mrs. Van Lennep in preparing herself for future usefulness and in the study of those languages which she would most need. She enjoyed the pa.s.sage more than any other lady on board, and was on deck in some scenes of peril which made even the hearts of strong men to tremble.

More than any thing else did our subject miss the privileges of the Sabbath. The daughter of a clergyman, she had been reared beneath the shadow of the Christian temple, and taught from infancy to love and revere the day of rest. And though upon shipboard she heard the song of praise, the solemn prayer, and the interesting discourse from the same lips which led the devotions at home, yet the church-going bell, the pealing organ, and the countenances of early a.s.sociates were not found on the ocean. All was strange and wild as the tempest itself.

On the Sabbath day, November 5th, the eyes of the voyagers were greeted with a view of that n.o.ble monument which rises from the blue waters of the Mediterranean-the Rock of Gibraltar. They looked upon it as the rising sun glanced lines of light all around it and painted it with gorgeous beauty, making even its very barrenness appear, attractive.

Whoever has sailed along the sh.o.r.es of the Mediterranean Sea will remember the many objects of interest which present themselves on every side. There are seen convents which have stood for ages, braving change and time, from whose turrets the vesper bell has sounded forth over the waters, calling the ghostly father and the young recluse from the cell and the cloister to mingle in the devotions imposed by the Holy Mother Church; castles frowning from bare and beaten rocks, reminding one of other days, when feudal strife and knightly warfare demanded such monuments of barbarism to prove that "might makes right;" beautiful gondolas, with richly-dressed Orientals, manned with slaves, and propelled by the broad, flat paddle, reminding one of the songs which cast their witchery around the knights of yore, and from the blue bosom of the sea gave back the melodious echo; the highlands, clad in beauty and arrayed in all the verdure of perpetual summer; villas standing amid groves of trees in full blossom, and cultivated slopes which extend to the very billows of the sea; ruined temples, monasteries, convents, cathedrals, standing like some relics of the past, fit emblems of the decaying faith once taught within them.

About the 1st of December, the Stamboul, with its precious freight, arrived at Smyrna; and when the new year with all its hallowed emotions came, they were comfortably located in their new home, surrounded with every circ.u.mstance to make them happy. Their home stood near the sea sh.o.r.e, and from its verandas they could look far out upon the waters and behold the pa.s.sing vessels as on the busy voyage they sped to and fro. In the garden sweet roses bloomed, and the orange and lemon gave delicious fragrance and more delicious fruit.

They here found the former a.s.sociates of Mr. Van Lennep, who received them with the greatest kindness; and their residence in Smyrna soon became delightfully pleasant. One who loved the wonders of Nature, and could appreciate the goodness of G.o.d in the works of his hands, the scenes of natural beauty every where spread out, could not fail to be attracted by so many displays of divine wisdom and power. To go from our cold, austere climate, our bare fields and rock-ribbed mountains, to dwell amid the luxurious vineyards and gardens of the south of Europe, seems like being transported from a cheerless desert to a blooming paradise. Our beautiful things are not connected with our climate or our unproductive fields, but with our free inst.i.tutions, our systems of education, our public morality, our well-regulated government, our well-administered laws, and the industry, intelligence, and religious habits of the people. Our fields and vineyards, our rich groves and beautiful scenes, are our churches, our schools, our colleges, our asylums for the poor, for the blind, for the insane. These const.i.tute the pride and glory of the land of the Pilgrims.

The glory of the East arises from the natural beauty of the country; from the adornments of Nature; from the skill and care of G.o.d.

Early in August, 1844, she was afflicted with dysentery, which increased upon, her gradually until all hope of life was taken away. Finding that she could not live, she gave her time to meditation and prayer. The idea of leaving earth and parting with her husband, and being buried in a strange land, though terrible in some respects, did not alarm her. She wished to live for her husband, for Jesus, for the souls of sinners; but if it was the will of G.o.d she was ready--ready to die at anytime and be buried in any place. During her sickness, her husband, alarmed at the prospect of his loss, used all means to restore her wasting health; he remained by her bedside, and with the most tender care endeavored to mitigate her sorrows and lift her soul above the pains of sickness. He could not endure the idea of a separation at the moment when she seemed most useful and best prepared to labor with success. He had taken her from home, from loved scenes, to die amid strangers; and the responsibility of his position made him, in that period of anguish, a most tender nurse and a most faithful watcher.

Her last hours were spent in a manner which gave the brightest evidence of her future bliss to all who saw her. With a firm hope in the merits of the crucified One, she descended into the waters of the dark, deep Jordan, whose billows broke upon the sh.o.r.es of human life with such melancholy moanings. There was no fear; her soul was stayed on G.o.d; and a divine hand lifted her heart in the last conflict.

About one o'clock, September 27, she breathed her last, and the spirit took its everlasting flight from the abodes of flesh and the tenements of men.

Her last words were, "O, how happy!" and earth was exchanged for heaven.

She felt the tender and confiding spirit of that beautiful and touching hymn of Wesley, and repeated it with dying voice and a countenance all radiant with smiles:--

"Jesus, lover of my soul, Let me to thy bosom fly."

THE END.