CHAPTER XIV.
A GOLDEN SUNSET.
[Illustration]
As this little book is specially designed to tell of Dr. Duff's mission work in India, no account need be given of his many labours after quitting her shore. This however must be said, that if Dr. Duff had reached "grim wintry old age," in that season, his life bore richer fruit to the glory of God and the good of man, than one mortal out of a thousand brings forth during life's whole year. And on what labours, and what success the noble Duff could look back, since in youth's springtime he gave himself to the Lord!
In Calcutta, instead of the hired house which could not hold all his pupils so that they had to come in relays, in a splendid building, which cost 150,000 rupees, multitudes have received instruction. A proud man, in Duff's place, might have exclaimed: "Lo! Where I went forth alone, in the single Free Church Mission to which I belong, there have been in the last half-century one hundred and fifteen Scottish, and forty-four Native Missionaries, some still on earth, and some now in glory; of these how many did 'I' draw to the work! There were in 1830 'two' primary schools in Bombay and Calcutta, now behold 'two hundred and ten' Colleges and Schools in the land, in which more than fifteen thousand youths and girls can hear the glad news of salvation; how many of these institutions owe their beginning to me! The Free Church of Scotland alone has numbered 6,458 adult converts; how many of them were as sheaves gathered by me! And this is but a part of my work. If a stream of liberality flows in the channel of missions, not only in my own land but in others, how often have the springs which feed them been opened by me!"
But we cannot even imagine the lowly Missionary uttering such words of pride, or even in thought exulting presumptuously in the success which he owed to the blessing of God. This is his own idea of what would be a suitable inscription on his tomb.
"Here lies Alexander Duff, by nature and practice a sinful guilty creature, but saved through grace, through faith in the blood and righteousness of his Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ."
And were aught to be added to such an inscription, Dr. Duff would have it but this: "by profession a Missionary; by his life and labours the true and constant friend of India."
A heavy affliction came to Dr. Duff before he was called to his heavenly rest. Early in 1865 the light of his eyes, the joy of his heart, his beloved wife, sank to sleep in Jesus. Dr. Duff, as we have seen, was a man of very keen feelings, and sore must have been his grief as he stood by the grave of her of whom he thus wrote:
"My faithful loving spouse, my other half, who sustained and cheered and comforted me, and was not only the life of my dwelling but my very home itself, . . . is gone! She is not, for God hath taken her to the temple above, to serve and enjoy Him there for ever."
The aged Christian did not mourn as those without hope. As he writes in a letter to his sorrowing son:
"What my own feelings are I dare not venture to attempt to describe, nor would I if I could. The union cemented by upwards of thirty eight years of a strangely eventful life, in many climes and amid many perils and trials and joys, so suddenly so abruptly brought to a final close in this world; Oh! it is agony to look on in itself. But when I turn to the Saviour, and the saintly one now in glory, I do see the dark cloud so lustred with the rainbow of hope and promise, that I cannot but mingle joy with my sorrow, and we can all unite in praising the Lord for His goodness, His marvellous loving-kindnesses towards me in the hour of our sore trial."
But one more scene shall be given from the life of Dr. Duff,—and that scene is the last. In 1878 the aged Christian became so ill, that his second son was summoned by telegraph from India. He arrived in time to join with Dr. Duff's daughter and grandson in loving ministry to the dying saint. The old Missionary's sun was calmly, peacefully setting, amidst clouds of glory. When the first joy of seeing his son was over, the pilgrim so near the end of his journey said, "I am in God's hands to go or stay; if He has need of me He will raise me up, if otherwise it is far better."
Thoughtful to the last of his friends, Dr. Duff dictated a list of about fifty persons to whom he wished books to be sent as a dying remembrance from him. When told that the doctor thought ill of his case, quietly the sufferer replied, "I never said with more calmness in my life, continually by day and by night, 'Thy will, my God, my God be done!' In my own mind I see the whole scheme of redemption from eternity more clear and glorious than I ever did."
Yes, it was on the perfect sacrifice Christ, the son of God, that the eyes of the dying believer were fixed.
Dr. Duff's daughter repeated the beautiful hymn,—
"How sweet the name of Jesus sounds To a believer's ear, It soothes his sorrow, heals his wounds, And drives away his fear."
The voice of Dr. Duff, so soon to be hushed in silence, exclaimed with emphasis, "unspeakable!"
Truly the Christian, whether living or dying, in that blessed name can rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory!
The Twenty-third Psalm was afterwards repeated by Dr. Duff's daughter to her dying father, as he lay apparently unconscious. But life was lingering yet, he responded at the end of each verse. How blessed when believers, passing through the valley of the shadow of death, can realise as the Missionary did, "I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me!"
At last the once eloquent lips that so often had pleaded with and for the sons of India, could utter no word more, yet still the departing saint knew the voices of those whom he loved, and he showed his consciousness by a tender grasp of the hand. The sun of life was slowly, calmly disappearing behind the horizon. The voice of the Master whom Duff had deeply loved and faithfully served, was bidding him come up higher. The disciple was laying down the cross for ever, to receive the heavenly crown. And so, in perfect peace, Alexander Duff sank to rest. We cannot follow his enraptured spirit as it rose from the slumbering clay, nor conceive the bliss which awaits him when the body too shall rise in the Resurrection-day!
"Fulness of joy! on Christ's right hand to hear Love's invitation to draw yet more near,— Ye blessed children—come!"
And now the story of Alexander Duff's life has been briefly told. It only remains to add a few words to the reader.
If you are not yet a follower of the Lord Jesus, if you are not yet assured that Christianity is of God, pause and look at the picture of a believer which has been placed before you. Was it mere natural goodness of heart that made Dr. Duff what he was? What nerved him to moot difficulties, danger, distress with unflinching courage; what made him not count his life dear to himself? What made him patient in trouble, and humble in triumph, working like a giant, yet trusting like a child? Do such fruits naturally grow on the trees of earth, and if not, must they not have a heavenly origin? Duff could have given the answer, "I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave Himself for me." Duff's course was upward, onward, heavenward, because he was following the steps of the Saviour, and pressing forward looking unto Jesus.
Reader! If you be a believer, then there is also a word for you. Has not your conscience reproached you while reading the life of Dr. Duff? Is not his life and death a call to us not to stand idly looking on while labourers are sorely wanted in the Lord's great harvest field? Is there no sheaf which you can bind, is there no work which you can do? Does not the example before you rouse your languid spirit like the blast of a trumpet? Rise and be doing for the time is short; use your talents, be they few or many, to the sole glory of Him who gave them; the fountain from which Alexander Duff drew strength is open to you, the bliss upon which he has entered you may share; waiting, working, praying, praising, you too, with him may swell the victor's song, giving "glory, honour, thanksgiving and praise to Him who sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb for ever and ever!"
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[Illustration: EDINBURGH, THE CAPITAL OF SCOTLAND.]