To the Rev. A. N. Somerville (Bouja)

BoujA, NEAR Smyrna, Q2nd August 1839. ‘My dear Friend Alex., — You will see

that nearly a whole month has passed away since the above was written. It has pleased our heavenly Father that I should spend that time in a long illness, from which I am now by his blessing recovered. I am sorry this was not finished and sent away from the Holy Land; but I was taken quite suddenly ill of a most dangerous fever, I ihink the day after writing you. A converted Jew, who is generally stationed at Jerusalem, Dr. Gertsmann, a fine Christian, was my doctor. He took great care of me, so that by Sabbath the 28th, he thought the fever had left me, and we all thought it best that I should leave Syria by the boat that sailed that day. I was very weak, but managed to get on board, and was stretched out on the deck.

The fever soon came back upon me worse than ever. Andrew and Mr. Caiman were as kind to me as they could be; but sea-sickness rendered them Incapable most of the way. Nobody on board had any English, so that I was cast upon God indeed. At Cyprus I thought I should have died. I lost my voice almost entirely; my memory also began to fail. I was very ill again at Rhodes, and again near Smyrna. We sailed among the lovely*islands of Greece, and saw scenes hallowed by Paul’s voyages; but my eyes were looking toward the eternal hills. Indeed there was the greatest reason to believe that I never would recover. But God has raised me up from the brink of the grave. We arrived in Smyrna on Thursday evening, 1st August. The town appeared close and hot, and the medical man lived out of town, so that we resolved on proceeding to this village. It has been a second birthplace to me. We rode on asses — the muleteer holding me on all the time. Here we found a home in the house of the Rev. Mr. Lewis, the English chaplain, and I found a mother in his lady — most Christian people. I had two very severe attacks of fever here — my head was shaved and bled. I have long since been free from fever, and am daily gaining strength. I feel confident that God means all for good. My mind was very weak when I was at the worst, and therefore the things of eternity were often dim. I had no fear to die, for Christ had died. Still I prayed for recovery, if it were the Lord’s will. You remember, among your last advices, you told me to be humble. You see God is teaching me the same thing. I fear I am not thoroughly humbled yet. I feel the pride of my heart, and bewail it. Pray that, if it be the Lord’s will, I may get the blessing of this illness. Pray also that I may be restored to the work of the ministry, if that be his will. Andrew has not been idle, but has gained much information. He went to Constantinople on Saturday. We parted with much regret, but I hope to join him on Monday next. ‘Three days more will carry us to Galatz, on the Danube, where we have a short quarantine. From thence our way is plain to Poland, by Jassy.

My zeal in the mission is not diminished by my illness. Indeed the cause is now interwoven with every thought and feeling of my

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heart. I only now see plainly that all our views about the Jews being the chief object of missionary exertion, are the plain and sober truth according to the Scriptures.

I have not been able to advance much in Scripture reading, being driven more to meditate on divine things, and on the portions hidden in my heart. My eyesight is not very good, and, for the same reason, I am not good at writing. I have cause for nothing but thankfulness and praise. God has dealt with me as a son.

“Trials make the promise sweet;
Trials gie new life to prayer;
Trials drie me to his feet,
Lay me low, and keep me there,”

I never was so severely tried in this way before. But he hath saved my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling. This has been one of the hottest summers ever known. The therm, is generally about 90*=* or 96^ in the coolest room in the house. I get a pleasant walk every evening. Last night I was helping to gather grapes in the vineyard. The remains of old Smyrna I have not seen. Still I do not forget how Jesus sent messages of love to this very place. I have not room to ask how your soul and flock prosper. Do not overwork yourself. There is much of self in that, I know by experience. A breathing of believing prayer may be worth many hours’ hard labor. Endure to the end, and be saved. Yours ever, in sweetest bonds, RoBT. M. M’Chbyne.

I heard of your mother and sister this day, by a letter from home, dated 8th June. Remember me most kindly to them, and your father and Colin. I often pray that they all may be partakers of your grace.