The first indication of a work of grace in 1849 was seen in the unusual seriousness of Deacon John. He had been reading Pike's Guide to Young Disciples, and the chapter on backsliding moved him deeply. For a long time, he went mourning his departure from God. One day he was reading aloud in the Seminary, when a missionary came in, and wondering to see him there, asked what he was doing. He replied, "I am studying backsliding; and O, sir, I love it very much;" meaning to say that he loved to study the way back to the enjoyment of God. This state of mind was followed by earnest effort for the salvation of others, and the hopefully pious first passed through a season of deep heart-searching and renewed consecration to God. Under an awful sense of the violation of covenant vows, for many days some of them did nothing but weep and pray. "How unfaithful have I been to my Saviour and to immortal souls!" was the cry on all sides. One whose Bible was found blotted with tears, had been converted in 1846, and her grief was on account of her unfaithfulness as a follower of Christ. Having thus wept bitterly herself, she was well fitted to lead others to the God of all comfort. Her labors were unwearied, both in and out of school. Indeed, the mission was now so reduced in numbers, that much of the work in this revival was performed by the Nestorians, and they proved themselves very efficient. Naturally ardent, they preached Christ and him crucified with a zeal and faithfulness rarely witnessed in our own land; but their ardor needed careful guiding, for some were, at one time, entirely prostrated by excessive labor.
The pupils of the Seminary, during a short vacation, seemed like angels of mercy to their families and friends. In Geog Tapa, their meetings for women every evening had an attendance varying from thirty to one hundred. Many of these were glad to learn the way of salvation, even from children. Besides this, the older pupils, under the guidance of an experienced native helper, spent much time in personal conversation and prayer with their own sex, as did the members of the other Seminary with the men.
In the village of Seir, the work was very general. In addition to the labors of the pious students in the Male Seminary there, Sanum and Moressa labored from house to house among the women. But hear their own account of what they did, in a letter to Miss Lovell's school at Constantinople;—
"What shall we tell you, beloved, of the great love God has shown to our school and people? For two months we have had such delightful days as we never saw in our lives before. The work of the Lord has also commenced in the villages, and in many there is great inquiry for the way of life. The servants of God are so full of zealous love, that they preach till their strength and voice give way. But again they go on to preach, for the harvest is great, and the laborers few. How should we, with burning hearts, beg the Lord of the harvest to send forth laborers! Can we bear, dear sisters, to see the deadly wings of Satan's kingdom spread out and destroy those bought by the precious blood of Christ? Ought we not rather to wrestle like Jacob till we see the loving wings of the kingdom of the Saviour spread out, and impart life to wounded souls on every side? We hope that your waiting eyes may see greater wonders among your own people than we do here.
"Now we will tell you about the little village of Seir, which contains nineteen houses. God has visited every house; and because the women were much awakened, and had no teacher, the missionaries sent two of us there, not because we were fit for such a work,—for we are deficient in Godly knowledge, and every qualification,—but because God sometimes chooses the ignorant and weak to do him service. And what shall we tell you of the wonders God showed us among those poor women? There was no time in which they did not cry, with tears, 'What shall we do?' 'Woe unto us!' 'We are lost!' When we asked them to pray in meetings, they prayed as if taught of God. We wondered at them very much. In one house, we found a woman beating her head with both hands, crying, 'O my sins! They are so great! There is no pardon!' We tried to reason with her; but if we took her hands from her head, she beat her breast. She said, 'You told me, when you prayed with me the other day, to go to Christ; but he will not receive me, I am such a sinner.' With difficulty we quieted her, and told of the great mercy of the Son of David. We prayed with each woman of the village alone, and they with us, fervently and in tears.
"In one instance, we heard an old man praying earnestly in the stable, and his wife in the house. We waited till they had finished, before we went in, and there we found an old man, perhaps ninety years old, and his wife, also very aged. We spoke with them of the lowly Redeemer, and how he was ready to dwell with them, poor as they were. The tears rolled down their wrinkled faces, and made our own hearts burn within us. The old man prayed with us as if Christ stood right before him, and we prayed with them both.
"There were meetings several times a day, and when they closed, the voice of prayer might be heard on all sides, in the houses and stables. Every family now has morning and evening worship."
In this revival, the native helpers were very much interested for the salvation of their unconverted wives. The families of Siyad and Yonan live in Geog Tapa, and their first visits home were blessed to the conviction of their companions, who soon came to the school, begging to be allowed to stay and learn the way of life. Of course, they were not refused. The wife of Siyad had been a frequent visitor there, but such an opposer of religion, that her coming was always dreaded; but now how changed! Day by day her convictions deepened, till they were overwhelming. Tears were her meat, and prayer her employment, day and night, till, as she said, "The Saviour found her," and she was at rest. Three children and a daughter-in-law joined her in believing, and it was delightful to see the family, not long after, each in his or her turn, calling on the name of the Lord in one of the rooms of the Seminary.
Yonan, the junior teacher of the school, had been married by force two years before, by his wicked father; that, too, when his heart was fixed on another, every way fitted to be his companion. It was a severe trial; but grace triumphed, and his great desire, seemed to be the conversion of the wife thus forced upon him. At midnight, he was often heard interceding for her, and, in the early part of the revival, the answer came. Miss Fiske will never forget the time when, in an adjoining room, she heard her for the first time praying with her husband. It gave her a new insight into the meaning of that scripture, "They believed not for joy." The new convert was very active among the women in her village; and when her father-in-law forbade social prayer in his house, she took her little company at sunset behind the village church, where even the bleak winds of February did not chill their devotions.
Khanumjan, the aged mother of John, though past threescore and ten, entered into the work with a zeal that might put to shame many younger women in our own land. She toiled to bring the more aged women right to the cross, taking them one by one into her own closet, that then and there they might accept the Saviour. Though herself unable to read, she did much for the preachers who went out to the villages, providing food for them on their return, and exhorting them to courage and faithfulness. No wonder she said to a visitor, "Three years ago, I saw Christ in heaven, and I have seen him there ever since; but now he sits by my side all day long." When she died, she said, over and over again, "I am going after Jesus."
In this revival, the encouragement to labor for woman was greater than ever before. After the middle of January, the Seminary was almost constantly thronged with inquirers. Day and night, it was consecrated by the prayers and tears of women seeking their Saviour. On Friday, and on the Sabbath, many from the neighboring villages spent the time there between services. The room was filled with them; and even while they ate, they must have some one speaking to them of Jesus. Those who did so, often spoke with such tenderness as showed that Christ himself was very near. Sometimes the women could not eat any thing but the bread of life. At times, the anguish of some for sin was so overpowering, that the question, "Can a woman forget her sucking child?" might almost have been answered in the affirmative. In some instances, the scenes that took place were too much for frail nature to bear, and the laborers were ready to ask to be clothed upon with immortality while the Lord passed by. Those who spent the night in the Seminary slept in the large room on the lower floor, between the central door and that on the left, in the engraving; and occasionally the sound of their weeping and praying banished sleep from the rooms above them. Yet such hinderance to rest brought a refreshment all its own.
In Geog Tapa, the village ruler was found sitting at the feet of Jesus, and going with the preachers from place to place, to give greater weight to their words; and twenty-five young men, though they could not read, yet did what they could with untiring zeal.
There was an interesting work in Degala, so noted for vice that it was called the Sodom of the Nestorians. The first converted there was a young man employed in the Seminary. He passed through a severe mental conflict before his proud heart yielded; but when it did, he became a living sacrifice to God. One day he came to the teachers, saying, "I have a petition to make; will you receive it?" Supposing it to be some pecuniary matter, they replied, "Tell us what it is." He at once burst into tears, and covering his face with his garment, said, "My village is lost; my family is perishing, and their blood is on my neck; let me go to-night and beg forgiveness for my wicked example, and urge them to flee from the wrath to come." He obtained his request, and left, sobbing aloud. Next morning, he brought his wife and two other women to be instructed. About a week after, Deacon Tamo found in the village several inquirers, and one woman in agony on account of her sins. She had been notorious for wickedness, and so vile as hardly to find one who would associate with her, though now one of the most lovely Christians in any land. The next day, she came to the Seminary, and as soon as Miss Fiske sat down beside her, she threw herself into her lap, crying, "Do tell me what to do, or where to go, to get rid of my sins." She was pointed to the Lamb of God, and one moment her feet seemed to rest on the Rock of Ages, and the next a fresh wave of conviction swept her into the raging sea. So she vibrated between life and death. She was asked to pray. In all her life she had not probably heard ten prayers; but her strong crying and tears showed that the Holy Spirit was her teacher, and the helper of her infirmities. She had learned to pray where her Saviour found a cradle—in the manger—cast out and derided by her friends.
She was first awakened in the Seminary; for one day, as soon as she entered the door, a pupil, then under deep conviction herself, and to whom she was an entire stranger, seized her hand, saying, "My sister, my sister, what are you doing? We are all lost. We must repent, or perish." These words she could not forget, and from that hour sought until she found her Saviour, and then bore ill treatment with such meekness as won others also to Christ.
The desire of the converts for instruction was most affecting. One of them wept bitterly when asked if she was willing to forsake every sin, saying, "What shall I do? I have one sin so strong that I fear I cannot leave it off." "What is it?" "I cannot live without these words of God. My husband will not let me go to hear them, and anger sometimes rises in my heart at this. Tell me what to do with this sin."
An account of the revival in 1850 will be given in the chapter on the prayerfulness of the Nestorians. After this were instances of conversion each year, but not so marked, or so general, as in 1849. So we pass over the intervening time to dwell a moment on the revival of 1856. That year, the pupils were very studious, and kind in their feelings towards each other and their teachers; but the winter was nearly over before any additions were made to the now diminished number of believers. The teachers mourned; still the heavens were brass, and the earth iron. Christians were lukewarm, and none seemed to have power with God.
Miss Fiske returned from the English prayer meeting Sabbath evening, February 18th, in that desponding state that sometimes follows intense and protracted desire, when its object is not attained. At such times, the sensibilities seem paralyzed, and emotion dies of sheer exhaustion. The pupils had retired; so also had Miss Rice; and she was left alone. Her thoughts brooded over the state of her charge, but she had no strength to rise and carry those precious souls to Christ. She could not sleep, and yet so shrunk from the duties of the morrow, that she longed for a lengthening out of the night, rather than the approach of dawn. Eleven o'clock struck, and there was a knock at the door. Could she open it? Must she see another face that night? She did open it, and there stood one of her pupils, not so without feeling as her fainting heart had imagined. Struck by the languor of her teacher's looks, she inquired tenderly, "Are you very tired?" "No, not very; why do you ask?" "I cannot sleep; our school has been resting on me all day, and I thought perhaps you would help me to pray." The spell was broken; the dry fountain of feeling gushed out afresh, and, with a full heart, she said, "Come in, thou blessed of the Lord." As an angel from heaven, that dear pupil strengthened her teacher that night, and together they carried the whole household to Jesus. When at length she retired, all was sweetly left with Christ, and he whispered peace. She could sleep now, and when morning came there was still peace. "Could ye not watch with me one hour?" was the word spoken to her as she arose; and hardly had she repeated it at morning prayers, before three, in different parts of the room, were weeping. She said little, for she felt it safer to go and tell Jesus their wants and their unworthiness. All day, the feeling in the school was subdued and tender. No one asked, "What shall I do to be saved?" but there was quiet at the table, and quiet in the rooms. The work was done willingly and well, but in silence, and the voice of prayer in the closets was gentle. Tuesday passed in almost perfect stillness. No one said even, "Pray for me." Towards evening, Miss Fiske said, "If there is one who wants first of all to attend to her eternal interests, I would like to see her at half past eight o'clock." At that hour, her door opened, and one entered alone; then another and another, each alone, till the room was full. She closed the door, but still they came. What were her feelings when she looked round on twenty-three, sitting with their heads bowed down in silence? She said little, for she felt that they wanted to hear God, rather than man, and the parable of the prodigal son that evening seemed to come fresh from the lips of Jesus.
Next day, each lesson was recited in its season, and recited well; but tears blurred many a page, and at recess not a few went to be alone with God. At eleven o'clock, Mr. Perkins came in as usual to sing with them, "Bartimeus" was the first hymn. All began it; but some voices faltered on the first stanza, more on the second, and soon the leader's voice was heard alone. He took up the Bible lying on the desk, and saying, "Perhaps some wanderer would like now to arise and go to her heavenly Father," he too read the portion of the night before, and led in prayer. The teachers had to lengthen the intermission at noon, because they could not bear to summon the pupils so early from their closets.
The mission met that afternoon in the Seminary. Mr. Stoddard came down from Seir covered with snow, saying, in his pleasant way, as he opened the door, "We have snowed down this time;" but when he learned the state of things, he said, very tenderly, "You must have thought my speech untimely; I did not know God was so near; but my heart is with you, and I hope we both shall have a large blessing." That meeting was almost all prayer, and the weeks that followed it witnessed a work silent but deep. It was characterized by humble contrition, and much simple dependence on Christ. Most of those twenty-three, before the close of the term, were hoping in his mercy.
Three missionary children were among the converts in this revival, and their conversion did much good to the Nestorians; for, though they had felt their own need of regeneration, they were in doubt about the children of pious parents; but when they saw the children of missionaries weep over sin, and come as lost sinners to the Saviour, they understood as never before that the entrance into the kingdom was the same for all.
At this time, the English ambassador passed through Oroomiah; and though, when he and his suite visited the Seminary, there was some apprehension felt as to the effect it might have on the religious interests of the pupils, they not only did themselves credit, in the examination he made of the school, but returned from the interview with their relish for spiritual things undiminished. Indeed, the event, which ordinarily would have been more than a nine days' wonder, caused scarce a ripple on the deep current of spiritual emotion.
The Seminary was again blessed in 1857, and the year following Miss Fiske returned from Seir after the funeral of Harriet Stoddard to welcome several who had entered the fold of the good Shepherd during her absence.
The labors of Miss Rice, who had charge of the school (while she was away,) have also been blessed in each of the four succeeding years. During that time, eighteen of the pupils have been received to the communion. The revival in the winter of 1861-62 was, however, more interesting and extensive.
At one meeting in the Male Seminary, the young men burst into tears while singing the hymn, "Alas, and did my Saviour bleed?" and soon after, in the Saturday evening meeting, Miss Rice's whole school were bowed in earnest prayer, and did not move for some time when requested by her to retire for private devotion. On this occasion, Mr. Cobb writes, "It was my privilege to speak a word to them, and I can truly say that I never saw such a scene before, as, with heads bowed down on their desks, unable wholly to repress their sobs, they listened, and again engaged in prayer." Even then, it was only after repeated requests that they went to their own rooms, where many continued their supplications far into the night.
The interesting scenes of these awakenings are thus gratefully recalled by Sanum, a convert of the first revival, in a letter dated Salmas, June 6th, 1859:—
Beloved Teacher, Miss Fiske: I received your priceless letter with many tears of joy, and when I read your loving, motherly counsels, my heart was full; it was drawn to you with inexpressible love; and when you reminded me of those blessed revivals, my eyes were darkened with floods of tears, so that, for a time, I could not read. How can I ever forget the first night that you met me, after the Lord had touched my heart, in that blessed room? or how many times you took me by the hand, and led me to the throne of grace? Often I was in the dark, and the Lord, through you, was pleased to give me rest. Can I ever forget, when the hand of the Lord rested on me in the death of my dear children,[1] how many times you came as an angel of peace to wipe away my tears? Shall I ever forget the Lord's coming among us by the still rain of the Holy Spirit? or those meetings of the sisters for prayer? or those tearful pleadings in the closets? Can I ever forget the fervent supplications and preaching of blessed Mr. Stocking, and how he begged us to flee from the wrath to come? If I forget these, let my right hand forget her cunning, and my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth. [Footnote 1: Page 185]
It is a year, my beloved, since I have been able to go to Oroomiah. I have sorrowed greatly to be cut off so long from the supper of our Lord, and them that meet around his table. Perhaps it is because I am not worthy of the blessing. The Lord mercifully grant that I be not cut off from the heavenly supper of the Lamb.
Our work here is much as before. I grieve to say that there are few with whom I can pray, and in the few cases where I can do so, it must be done as by stealth. But there are those with whom I can talk. Hoimer and I have a meeting for the women every Sabbath, and on other days. Every Tuesday, Hoimer, Raheel, and I have a little meeting together, and it is very pleasant, but will be more so when the Lord shall increase our number. O that we longing ones might see that day, and our troubled hearts rejoice!
During the nineteen years since the Seminary was established, it has enjoyed, in all, twelve revivals; and though it is not desirable to count up the results of human labors, it is due to the praise of divine grace to record, that out of those who have been connected with it, as many as two thirds have, in the judgment of charity, been created anew in Christ Jesus.
The Nestorian mission has encountered less opposition than other missions in Western Asia. Yet here, also, they who would live godly in Christ Jesus have suffered persecution. On June 19th, 1844, the brothers of Mar Shimon issued this order: "Be it known to you all, ye readers at Seir, that if ye do not come to us tomorrow, we will excommunicate you from our most holy church; your finger nails shall be torn out; we will hunt you from village to village, and kill you if we can." Miss Fiske was spending the summer there with her pupils, and it was not deemed best to provoke further trouble by retaining them. When told of this, they all wept aloud. Nor did they weep alone. Their teacher, and the family of Mr. Stocking, in which they lived, could not restrain their tears. It seemed as if the girls would never tear themselves away from their teacher; and when at length they departed, again and again the lamentation arose, "We shall never hear the word of God again." Miss Fiske laid them at the feet of Jesus, trusting that he would bring them back to her, and others with them. A German Jew, who was present, said in his broken English, "I have seen much bad to missionaries in other countries, but nothing bad like this, to take little children from words of Jesus Christ."
Even Deacon Isaac, a brother of Mar Shimon, who was prominent in the act, was ashamed of it. On a visit to the school, eight years afterwards, he asked leave to speak to the pupils, and said, "My young friends, I want you to do all you can to help your teachers, for I once troubled Miss Fiske, and it has made my life bitter ever since." Here the good man broke down, and there was not a dry eye among his hearers; while he added, "I have vowed before God that I will do all that I can to help her as long as I live." And all who know him can testify that he has kept his word, ever since his conversion in 1849. When he first began to be thoughtful, he heard that one of the pupils was in the habit of praying for him. He sent for her, and insisted on her praying with him; and though he was the most intelligent of the Nestorians, and possessed of rare force of character, and Sarah was more noted for devotion, than for her mental powers, yet he learned from her in a most childlike spirit; and that scripture which says, "A little child shall lead them," found in this case a beautiful illustration.
He has been occasionally employed in the school, and always proved a very useful and acceptable teacher. When he bade Miss Fiske good-bye, in 1858, he said, "You may rest assured that I will do all I can for the women till you come back;" and the next Sabbath found him teaching a class of adult females. In our favored land, the grace of God has made it nothing strange for the governor of a state to be a teacher in the Sabbath school; but one who has not lived in Persia can form no idea of what it is for a brother of Mar Shimon to teach a class of women. He has great skill in bringing out the meaning of Scripture, and is every where exceedingly acceptable as a Bible teacher. Along with unfeigned piety, he has more real refinement than any of his countrymen, and few Nestorians can show kindness with such true delicacy of feeling.
The health of Miss Fiske was so impaired in the spring of 1848, that she reluctantly yielded to the advice of the mission, and went with Mr. Stocking to Erzroom, to meet Mr. Cochran and family, then on their way to Persia. When they returned, they found Mr. Stoddard's health so seriously affected by long-continued over-exertion, that he only awaited their arrival to leave for Trebizond. Little did they dream that it was Mrs. Stoddard's last farewell to the scene of her labors.
Nor was this all. The patriarch Mar Shimon, who had long worn the guise of friendship, now threw off the mask. He broke up schools in small and distant villages, and secured the beating of a man by the governor on the charge of apostasy. The Female Seminary was honored with his special anathema. "Has Miss Fiske taught you this?" was his frequent demand of those who fell into his hands, followed by such reviling as only an Oriental could pour forth.
On the morning of July 28th, the infant daughter of Priest Eshoo, named Sarah, after her sainted sister, lay on her death bed; and to punish her father for his preaching, Mar Shimon forbade her burial in the Nestorian graveyard. He collected a mob ready to do his bidding as soon as she should die; but she lingered on, and so disappointed him for that day. Next day she died, and at once he anathematized all who should assist in her burial. A pious carpenter, however, forced his way through the mob, and made her coffin. He remained steadfast throughout the storm, replying to every dissuasion of his friends, "I must go forward, even to the shedding of my blood."
The missionaries appealed to a former governor, who owned that part of the city, for leave to bury in the cemetery used by the Nestorians from time immemorial; but the patriarch paid no attention to his messages, and the child remained unburied. Miss Fiske wrote, "As we look out on this troubled sea, and sympathize with these afflicted parents, we love to look up and think of the dear child as sweetly resting on the bosom of the Saviour. May the Sabbath bring us a foretaste of heavenly rest." But it found them still "where storms arise and ocean rolls." The governor sent men to demand the digging of a grave, which the mob would not allow. Meanwhile, the profligate Mar Gabriel craftily suggested that a promise from the priest not to preach any more, might end the trouble. "Never," was the prompt reply. "Let my dead remain unburied, but I will not go back from the service of the Lord." This so enraged the patriarch, that, for the sake of peace, the governor advised to bury the body in one of the villages. The sorrowing parents then locked their house, and leaving their babe alone in its slumbers, went to the chapel. There they found comfort from a sermon on the text, "Through much tribulation we must enter into the kingdom of God." About twenty men returned with them to the house. Then one bearing the little coffin went before; the rest followed, singing the forty-sixth Psalm. Even Moslems gazed with wonder, as they passed close by the door of the patriarch, and went out of the city gate. The engraving (page 154) gives a very good representation of this gate. On the green hill-side at Seir the little one was laid to rest, and the father, thanking the company for their kindness, hastened them back, to be in time for the afternoon service.
In the mean time, Mar Shimon sent far and near, forbidding all intercourse with the missionaries. At Geog Tapa, in the absence of the Malis, he ordered an old man, who formerly held that office, to summon the people before him. Only a few vagrants obeyed, and these he commanded to break up the schools, and prevent preaching in the church. So, that evening, when John commenced preaching, they proceeded to execute their orders; but, afraid to face the determined people, they deferred the attack till the hearers passed out; and then, like stanch old Puritans, hardly noticing them, the congregation wended their way homewards, singing psalms as they went.
[Illustration: SEIR GATE, OROOMIAH]
The patriarch now excommunicated Mar Yohanan, and made common cause with the French Lazarists. He even wrote a fraternal epistle to the pope, ready for any thing, if he could only crush the mission. His attendants marched about the mission premises with loud threats; pious Nestorians were knocked down in the streets; while his brother Isaac went to a distant village, to show that he had no sympathy with such iniquity.
Soon after, the carpenter who made the coffin was severely beaten by his own father for attending a prayer meeting. As the blows fell thick and fast, he cried, "Must this come from my own father?" But he remained firm, and next day went to the chapel pale and weak, but filled with holy joy.
Deacon Guwergis, prevented from going to the mountains,—for the Koords sided with Mar Shimon,—fearlessly encountered the revilings of the patriarch in his own house, and told him that he hoped to continue preaching till he died. His countenance must have shone like Stephen's, for his persecutor said to one of the attendants, "See how his face glistens. If he is so bold here, what will he be in the mountains?" Well might a missionary write, "What a blessing are such men! The sight of them is worth ten thousand times the sacrifices made by us all."
Though this was vacation, fifteen of the pupils remained in the Seminary for protection during the storm; yet even there they were not wholly safe. On the 25th of August, a messenger came in haste for one of them, saying that her dying brother wished to see her immediately. As the man was her relative, the girl was ready to go at once; but providentially Miss Fiske learned that the brother was well, and the messenger had been seen last with Mar Shimon. So he left, chagrined and enraged at his failure. The patriarch had told him to be sure and hide his purpose from that Satan, Miss Fiske, and in case of failure, to take the girl by force. But the teacher had had some experience in guarding her fold, and both she and her pupil were thankful for the deliverance. Next day, Mar Shimon forbade preaching in Geog Tapa; but if the church was closed, the house-tops remained open. The same day, the school in Vizierawa was repeatedly dispersed, but each time reassembled by the teacher.
The 28th of this month was such a day as the mission had never seen before. In the forenoon, the teacher from Charbash fled wounded from the servants of Mar Shimon to the mission premises. Scarcely had he entered, when his brother came in, having escaped from similar violence. The Moslem owner of the village had to put a stop to the tearing down of their house.
Miss Fiske and Miss Rice had just sat down to dinner with the school, when the cry, "A man is killed!" was followed by a rush from all parts of the yard. A mob at the gate was trying to break in and seize the native helpers. Mar Yohanan was wounded, and all was confusion. The teachers exhorted their little flock not to count their lives dear to them, for Jesus' sake. Happily, they were not called to such a test of discipleship; but the sympathies of the Moslems were plainly with Mar Shimon, and no one knew what a day might bring forth. That tried friend of the mission, E.W. Stevens, Esq., English consul at Tabreez, feared lest the missionaries should fall by the hand of violence. Miss Fiske writes, "Our native friends will doubtless suffer much, and we rejoice to share with them. We hope that fears on our account will not be realized. Still there is danger; and we try to be ready for life or death, as our Father sees best. Though in a land of violence, we are not unhappy; we trust in God, and hope this vine is being pruned that it may bring forth more fruit. We would have all the gracious designs of God fulfilled, even though we should be cast down."
The same day came tidings of the death of Mrs. Stoddard, at Trebizond, and Miss Fiske wrote that night an account of it to her former teacher, at South Hadley, adding, "Precious sister: she died far away; but my Father knows why I might not stand by that dying bed, and I would submit, though my heart bleeds.Ourhomes are sad to-night, and there is many a weeping eye among those for whom she toiled so faithfully. From my first acquaintance with her, she has been to me all that mortal could be. Her heart was tenderly alive to the spiritual interests of the dear Nestorians; and to them she devoted all her powers. It was she who first taught their daughters to sing the songs of Zion. Few, probably, have accomplished so much in so short a life. Her family, the mission, the Seminary, and all about us, shared in her untiring labors. As truly as of dear Mrs. Grant may it be said of her, 'She hath done what she could.'
"Like Mrs. Grant, she was the youngest member of the mission at the time of her death. When she left her native land, some almost regretted that so frail a flower should go forth to encounter the hardships of missionary life; but she did much, and did it well. The Seminary in Seir still bears the impress she stamped upon it. Her memory is not only fragrant today among the Nestorians, but it draws them nearer to Christ, and renders them more efficient in his service."
Mar Shimon now made common cause with the Persian nobility. The English and Russian ambassadors had procured the appointment of Dawood Khan as governor of the Christians in Oroomiah, in order to protect them from illegal oppression. The nobility of course opposed this; and Mar Shimon, by promising his aid in the removal of the protector of his own people, secured their cooperation in his wickedness. The converts were now insulted at every turn. They could hardly appear in the street, and the authorities afforded no redress. The missionaries had no earthly friend nearer than Mr. Stevens at Tabreez, who did all he could for them; and the pious natives felt shut up to God as their only refuge.
Yahya Khan, the governor of the province, now wrote urging on Mar Shimon, and ordered his agent in Oroomiah to aid him to the utmost of his power. As Yahya Khan was brother-in-law to the king, he was able to do the mission much harm at the court; and the patriarch, encouraged by such a coadjutor, set himself with renewed zeal to destroy it; but in September, the prince royal summoned him to Tabreez, and the nobility hardly daring to resist the order, he was reluctantly preparing to comply, when news came of the death of the shah, and all was confusion. The missionaries had been praying for help against their dreaded enemy, Yahya Khan, and lo! his power to harm them perished with his master.
The night after the news reached Oroomiah, anarchy reigned, and all kinds of crime abounded. Five men were killed near the mission premises, and the firing of guns was heard all night long; but though outside were robberies and murders, within that enclosure all was peace. Though its inmates knew that the fanatical population would gladly stone them, yet they felt it a privilege to labor on under the care of the Keeper of Israel.
In Persia, no king, no government; so besides this anarchy in the city, the Koords came down and plundered many villages, burning the houses and driving the people for shelter to Oroomiah. These strokes fell most heavily on the Moslems, many of whom were robbers themselves. The fear of an attack on Seir was at one time so great, that the ladies were sent off, and the gentlemen remained alone to guard the mission premises; but both in Seir and the city the houses of the missionaries were thronged by multitudes seeking relief, and each approaching footstep announced some new tale of woe.
Mar Shimon, after the death of the king, prudently retired into Turkey, and his servants were put under bonds to keep the peace. The Koords, however, drove him back, later in the season, but stripped of his power to persecute. It may sound like the close of a tale of fiction to add, that the next time Miss Fiske met the patriarch was in Gawar, August, 1851, when he rode up to the tents of the missionaries to inquire after their health, before he went to his own. He staid an hour and a half, appearing more free and social than ever before; and when they returned his visit, he came out of his tent to meet them, and treated them with unusual respect, saying, in the course of the interview, "I fear that Miss Fiske is not happy here: she does not look well." On being assured that she was both well and happy, he said to his attendants, "This lady is happy only as she has a number of Nestorian girls around her, eating care[1] for them, teaching and doing them good." So, when our ways please the Lord, he maketh even our enemies to be at peace with us. [Footnote: This is the Nestorian idiom. We say, "taking care of them."]
Babilo, the carpenter, who made the coffin for the child of Priest Eshoo, was taught to read by the younger girls in the Seminary after school hours, and thus writes to Miss Fiske, November 20th, 1859:—
"I remember how, thirteen years ago, in that trouble with Mar Shimon, when my father beat me for attending meeting, and men despitefully used me, dear Mr. Stocking and you comforted me in the great room. I shall never forget your love. Give my love to your dear mother, who so loved us that she willingly gave you to the Lord, as Hannah did Samuel.
"If you inquire about my work in the city Sabbath school,—I teach a class of ten women; three of them, I trust, are Christians. When I read your letter to them they greatly rejoiced. I reminded them of the meetings you used to have for them in your room, and their eyes filled with tears. In the afternoon I went to Charbash, and read your letter to the eighteen women in my class there. They, too, were very glad. Five of them, I trust, are Christians. We are now studying Second Timothy. After the lesson, I question them on Old Testament history; and then I teach the women and their children to sing."
But, aside from open persecution, there is a constant danger arising from the people themselves. The teacher in a Christian land can never fully understand the feelings of the missionary teacher. The one sends forth his pupils to meet Christian parents, brothers and sisters, who, with more than a teacher's love, lead the young convert by still waters, and establish him in holy feeling; but the flock of the other goes out often into families where every soul would gladly break the bruised reed and quench the smoking flax. He can sympathize with Paul in his anxiety in behalf of those for whom he had labored in the gospel.
Sometimes the pupils of the Seminary so dreaded the scenes of home, in vacation, that they preferred to remain in the school.
In April, 1849, Miss Fiske visited the village of Degala. As it was a holiday, most of the women had gone out for amusement; but a little company of twelve praying ones gathered around her, and listened in tears while she spoke of Jesus and his love. Their fervent prayers for neighbors and friends made her feel that a blessing was yet in store for Degala. These women suffered all sorts of insult for their attachment to the truth; they were often beaten and driven from their homes by their husbands. While the pupils of the Seminary were here, some of their own sex did all they could to annoy them. But read an account of their trials from the pen of Sanum, of Gawar. She writes to a friend in this country,—
"I had bitter times this vacation, for our neighbors are all very hard-hearted, not listening at all to the words of God. When I opened my Testament to read to them, they would shut it, and begin to quarrel about the forms of religion. I entreat you to pray for my village, that I, so unworthy, may see its salvation.
"One day, Miss Fiske went to the village of Degala, where is a band of women who greatly love the Lord. They gathered about her, and she had a very pleasant time. All these were inquiring what they should do to be saved. She could not stay long with them; but they were so humble that they asked to have some of the girls sent to them. So four of us, though so weak, ventured to go in the name of Christ. We found these sisters in great distress, being reviled and beaten by wicked men, for Jesus' sake.
"We were speaking in an upper room there on a feast day, and the women with us were weeping very much, while others, afraid to come in, seated themselves on the terrace by the window. Suddenly a wicked man came with a rod, and drove all those away who were without. Poor souls! how my heart burned for them! One, who had not been used to come to meeting, came that day for sport. She wore many ornaments, but as soon as she heard the words of God, her tears began to flow. After meeting, she arose up quickly, and threw aside her ornaments, and followed us wherever we went. We were having a meeting in another house, when a quarrelsome woman entered, having a large stick in her hand, and began to beat her daughter and daughter-in-law, and she carried off her daughter; but the other remained, though sorely bruised, saying, 'I will spill my blood, but will not leave the place of prayer.' The women who fear God wept much because this woman did so.
"We went to the sacrament, and there was a company of women who separated themselves from the others, and were weeping in one corner of the church. Some very bad women came to them, and said, 'Let us rise up and dance, because they are weeping.' Another, in anger, took the sacrament from the mouth of one of them, and gave it to her little granddaughter. There was much confusion in the village, and they seemed like those who cried, 'Great is Diana of the Ephesians.' One said, 'I wish neither Satan nor God, but only Mar Shimon.' Once, when we were assembled with the women, and Moressa was speaking, a wicked man fired a pistol to frighten us. But the women encouraged us, saying, 'Go on, and speak louder, that he may hear.' And when he heard my sister speak of the wickedness of man's heart, he cried out, 'Those words must have been for me. She must have known that I was there.'"
It does not fall within the object of this volume to give any detailed account of the proceedings of Asker Khan, who for several years sought to wear out the saints of the Most High, causing the native helpers to be beaten, fined, and annoyed in many ways, and then arrogantly denying all redress. Encouraged in his persecutions by the prime minister, he was able to defy all interference. Indeed, during part of the time, the English ambassador was constrained to leave the kingdom, and the Russian ambassador, though personally disposed to do all in his power for the mission, was yet officially unable to help.
At one time, he gave orders that no school should be opened without his sanction, and that all the teachers must report to him; and in case of disobedience, he threatened them with fines and imprisonment.
It may show in what estimation the influence of the Female Seminary was held by enemies, when we find him issuing his command, "Allow no girls to attend your school; schools are for boys alone;" and claiming credit for great forbearance because he did not at once break up the Seminary. That which called forth such opposition from enemies was surely not inefficient. There must have been a power for good manifest even to Moslem opposers, that taught them where to strike so as most effectually to destroy.' But there was a Power above them that said, "Thus far, and no farther." "The bush burned with fire, yet it was not consumed."
The evil wrought by Asker Khan was not confined to his own doings. His hostility, in a position so commanding, emboldened every Shimei to curse. In Ardishai, two or three unprincipled drunkards, with their dissolute bishop (Mar Gabriel), saved themselves from Mohammedan rapacity by taking part against the converts. These last were made examples of, to deter others from attending preaching or sending their children to the schools.' One poor widow, with four children,—a most consistent Christian,—was driven from her house by her father-in-law, because she allowed her oldest daughter to attend the village school. As many as thirty families, unable to endure persecution any longer, fled from the village; and Priest Abraham himself, after suffering much, was compelled to leave, though his congregation was from one hundred and fifty to two hundred every Sabbath.
In Dizza Takka, on the evening of April 20th, 1856, Sanum, who graduated in 1850, had arsenic put into the supper which she carried to a neighbor's tandoor (native oven) to be warmed. Happily, Joseph, her husband, was delayed beyond his usual hour, so that he was uninjured; and the quantity of arsenic was so large, that, by the prompt use of remedies, the mother's life was saved, though her innocent children suffered severely, and, after lingering a few months, both of them died. She rose from weeping over their graves to serve her Master more faithfully than ever. But Asker Khan,—though the arsenic was found at the bottom of the pot, though a portion of the contents, given to a cat, speedily produced convulsions and death, and though a Jewess testified that "the neighbor" had recently applied to her husband for arsenic, and no one else had access to the vessel where it was found,—instead of investigating the case, insulted Joseph and his friends, and caused his aged father to be beaten; at the same time telling the people of Dizza Takka to shoot Joseph if he went to their village again. Such conduct emboldened the enemies of the truth to complain against the more enlightened of their clergy who had renounced many sinful customs, as forsaking the religion of their fathers; and, with blasphemous threats, they were ordered to do the bidding of their accusers.
On the 1st of June, an order from the authorities at Tabreez to Asker Khan was presented to him by the missionaries, which, after a calm recital of the facts in the case of poisoning, proceeded thus: "As the person who did this act is a criminal, and, if unpunished, the affair may lead to the destruction of life, it is necessary that you, high in rank, take the attitude of investigation, and having discovered the criminal, that you punish him, with the knowledge of the Americans, and so act that no one, Christian or Moslem, shall dare to repeat such a crime." This order was obtained through the kind offices of the Russian ambassador; but the criminals were only detained a few days, and not pressed at all to a confession. Asker Khan then proposed, as they had not confessed, that the missionaries should intercede for their release. Of course, they refused. Then, saying "that if he had known that, beforehand, he would not have touched the matter, and that he could defend himself at Tabreez," he dismissed the accused, and it was in vain for the missionaries to prosecute the matter further.
Indeed, the opposition at this time was more serious than at any previous period, and for a time it seemed as though the seminaries, and especially the Female Seminary, would be destroyed.
In the autumn, a commissioner, sent from Teheran to examine into the proceedings of the mission, made an inquisitorial visit, and went all through the building, peeping into the chambers, and making himself and suite every where at home. Coming into the recitation room, where most of the girls were engaged in study, he selected, a large, robust pupil, who could speak Turkish, and questioned her as follows:—
"Are you allowed to follow your own customs?"
"We follow all that are good, but not such foolish ones as you would not wish us to follow."
"Do these ladies let you see your friends?"
"Certainly; we always see them when they come here, and we go home three times a year, staying, at one time, three months."
"What do you do when at home?"
"We work in the fields, and do any thing that our friends do. Our teachers tell us to help our friends all we can, and are displeased if we do not."
"Can you work, or have you become Ingleez?" (English.)
"Look at me; I am strong; I can carry very large loads."
"What do you do here?"
"We study, and learn all wisdom."
"Are you allowed to use your own books?"
"Certainly; the principal book of our religion they have printed for us, and we use it more than any other."
"But have you not left the books of your fathers?"
"The book I spoke of is our sacred book, like your Koran, and we use all others that agree with that."
"Do you fast?"
"One day at the beginning of the year, and other days afterwards."
"But have you not forsaken some of your church fasts?"
"None that are written in that book. I keep all those very carefully."
"What! twice in the week?"
"No; for that is not required in the book."
"But your people do."
"Yes; not being readers, they do many things that are not written in the book."
"Would your teachers allow you to fast?"
"O, yes; but we don't want to fast more than our book requires."
"What are your prayers?"
"Those taught in the book."
Then followed questions about dress, employment, and such things, all of which she answered in the same manner. The teacher was very thankful that the Master had neither left to her the selection of the witness, nor her preparation for the examination. But the examiner expressed very decided disapproval of female education, and held up their previous condition as their only proper one. The truth was, the Moslems were angry that their rayahs were being elevated, and they were specially indignant at the education of women.
So the opposition went on. Messrs Stoddard and Wright proceeded to Tabreez, and secured orders for redress which, as usual, were counteracted by secret orders to the contrary. The native helpers were now beaten because they were in the employ of the mission: some were thrown into prison, and threatened with being sent to Teheran in irons. But when the Lord saw that the wrath of man had proceeded far enough, he restrained the remainder thereof. For one of the leading spirits in this onset on the mission fell under the daggers of the Koords, and his death at once called off attention from missionary operations to other things.
Again, in January, 1858, two pious residents at Khosrowa, in the province of Salmas, were shamefully oppressed; and when application was made for redress, Asker Khan not only refused to adjudicate the matter, but beat one of the complainants so severely that he was confined to his bed for weeks. Still later, after urgent importunity from Nestorians and nominal Papists, two very able and excellent men, Deacons Joseph and Siyad, were sent to labor in that distant province. On one occasion they entered the village of Khosrowa to purchase fuel, and were quietly passing along the street, when a mob stoned them out of the village. Shortly after, Deacon Siyad was expelled from the district so suddenly that he had to leave his wife, Merganeeta: she, too, was driven away alone; but Holmar, a pious woman residing there, went with her. The first night they spent in a field, and the next day they sought refuge in an Armenian village; but, driven from thence, the persecuted wife fled to Oroomiah. After long effort, an officer was sent from Tabreez to Salmas, and ample promises of full redress were given, ending, as usual, in nothing. A mob, headed by a French Lazarist and native bishop, rescued the offender, and the officer desisted from further procedure.
The reader will be interested in the following extract, from a letter of Hoimar to Miss Fiske, in 1859:—
"I cannot tell you how glad I am to hear that your health is better. O that quickly you might meet us, if the Lord will! Till death I can never forget your love, nor your reminding your pupils to ask the Lord to support a poor, ignorant one like me. I do not believe your thoughts can ever rest about your little company of Nestorians. If a mother leaves a nursing child, she cannot rest till she returns to it. If you are far from us in body, I know your spirit is with us. If Jonah mourned over the gourd for which he had not labored, how shall not you mourn after those for whom you have labored?
"If the breezes did not bring the cry of 'Salvation' over the ocean, our desolations would cry out. But thanks to Him who favors those that leave their native land to labor among the ignorant. Yet what shall this people do? The beast having great iron teeth still reigns here; but it may be the Lord will speedily destroy him with the breath of his mouth. I trust that you will ever remember in your prayers one who will remember you in her weakness till death."
Two years later brought the following, with its graphic delineation of the trials that such as choose the better part may meet with yet for years to come:—
BELOVED MISS FISKE: Almost every day of this summer has been a bitter day. For my mother had become willing to give Raheel (Rachel, sister of Hoimar) to the Papists, and she had prevailed over my father to do the same. And now I will tell you how Goliah fell upon the earth, and he that had no weapons overcame; but it was from the power of God. The arrangement had all been made by my parents, and the betrothal feast made ready. Sanum and I were in Oroomiah, but Deacon Joseph was in Salmas, and we had also this comfort—my oldest brother stood firm, saying, "Fear not; till deathIstand." Raheel also was firm, hoping for help. With entreaties and tears, I asked Deacon Isaac to go to Salmas. He went, but Raheel knew it not. She was very sorrowful for only an hour remained to the time fixed for putting the betrothal ring on her finger. The hope of her life seemed to hang on a hair. She went to the vineyard, and prayed God to deliver her; then returned sorrowful to her room. She hears them say, "They have come!" and locks her door. They ask her to open it, bat she opens it not. Just then, Deacon Joseph goes to the window, and, seeing that Doacon Isaac has come, says, "Open; be not afraid." Deacon Isaac sits down with the Papists who have come to the betrothal. My father leaves it with him, and he says, "Very well; I have only now come; I must have time to examine into this business. To-morrow I will give you an answer." He talks with my father, saying, "How can you give your daughter to the Papists? The missionaries are not willing, our people are not willing, I am not willing; and more than all, the girl is not willing." My father at length said, "She is your daughter, not mine; do as you please." Then Deacon Isaac sent word to the Papists, "There is no possibility of your carrying this forward. I have questioned the girl, she is not willing; speak no more about it." The deacon then asked my father to let her go to the city to school again. At first he consented, but finally left it with her mother, who did not let her go. The deacon left displeased. When I heard this, I arose and took Mar Yohanan's brother, and went to Salmas, thinking I might possibly bring Raheel. While yet a good way from the village, like Canaan's spies, we sent for my oldest brother (who is, as we trust, a Christian). He, gave us good news, and said, "Raheel is all ready to go to school." As the Lord favored Eleazar about Rebecca, so he favored us; and the next morning my sister and Deacon Joseph returned to Oroomiah, while I remained to meet the wrath of my mother. As soon as Raheel was gone, she left, and as yet we know not where she is. Truly, great is the power of prayer. So God brought to nought evil counsels, scattered fearful, dark clouds, and caused the light of joy to rise upon us. But I am very sad about my mother, because she has turned away from the fear of God, and is fleeing from life. My father and husband still get intoxicated. I trust that you will multiply your prayers for them; and ask your friends to do the same, and to pray for me, and our village and country. Give my love to all your friends.
From your lover, HOIMAR.
We shall hear from Hoimar again, in connection with the communion.
The Nestorian converts have been noted for their spirit of prayer.
In 1846, the prayers of the hopefully pious in the Male Seminary were very remarkable. Several rooms were appropriated to devotion, and there one might hear the voice of supplication from morning till night. Many spent several hours a day in this holy employment; and one needed only to listen to know that their prayers came from the depths of the soul. At one time, they beg that the dog may have a single crumb from the table of his master; again, they are smiting on their breasts by the side of the publican. Now they are prodigals—hungry, naked, and far from their Father's house; and now they sink in the sea, crying, "Lord, save me; I perish!" or, as poor outcast lepers, they come to the great Physician for a cure. This one builds on the Rock of Ages, while the torrents roar around. That one washes the feet of Jesus with his tears, and wipes them with the hair of his head; another, as a soldier of the cross, plants its blood-stained banner in the inner citadel of his heart. Their ardent feelings found such appropriate expression in their Oriental metaphors, that one might learn from children to pray as he never prayed before.
On the reopening of the Seminary that spring, the first desire of the pupils was to enter their closets and commune with God.
Riding out one evening, Mr. Stoddard saw three persons before him on the way to Seir. Their horses went from one side of the road to the other, at random; and their own heads were uncovered to the cold March wind. At first he took them for dervishes; but on coming nearer he heard the voice of prayer, and found they were Nestorians. The eyes of all were reverently closed, and when one finished the other continued their supplications. He turned aside, and left them undisturbed. On another occasion, when John and Moses were riding to Geog Tapa on the same horse, they again engaged in devotion; but as the horse was unruly, they each prayed in turn, while the other held the reins.
Sometimes the language of their prayers is very broken. Mr. Stoddard once stood in the church in Supergan, twenty miles from Oroomiah, while prayers were read in the ancient Syriac, and overheard an old man, very ignorant, praying back in the congregation by himself. He had, perhaps, never heard five prayers, in his whole life, in a language he could understand; but reverently, and in a low tone, commingling the memories of old forms with the utterance of new desires, he was saying, "Our Father in heaven—always going, after Satan—O Lord Jesus Christ—hallelujah—forever and ever, Amen!" It was incoherent, but comprehensive. He addresses God as his heavenly Father. He confesses his sins. He appeals to Christ as his only helper. He praises God for his unspeakable gift, and then closes in the usual form.
The pious Mar Ogen, of Ishtazin, when in great pain, and hardly able to move, often broke out in words like these: "O Lord Jesus, thou art the King of glory, the King of kings and Lord of lords; thou art great and holy, and merciful. I am a sinner, condemned. My face is black, my bones are rotten. O Lord Jesus, have mercy upon me, poor, and blind, and naked, and miserable. O Lord Jesus Christ, I am vile. I am lost; but do thou remember me."
No language expressed their sense of guilt better than the words, "All our righteousnesses are as filthy rags." In the fervor of their desire for Christ, and grace through him, they would say, "Blessed Saviour, we will cling to the skirts of thy garment, and hope for mercy till our hands are cut off." A common petition was, "O Lord, we pray that we may never deny thee, even to the blood of our necks"—most expressive words, in a land where so many criminals are beheaded.
One prayed for our country, when he heard of the southern rebellion, thus: "O God, pour peace into that land. Permit them not to fight with each other, but with Satan and their wicked hearts, and may they fight spiritually to subdue the whole world to Christ."
During one of the revivals in the Female Seminary, the prayers of the pupils were exceedingly earnest. A member of the mission, having occasion to open the door of a room where a few of them were together, heard as follows:
"We are hanging over a lake of fire, with a heavy load upon our backs, by a single hair, and that is almost broken. We are in a ship burned almost down to the water; the flames are just seizing upon us. O God, have mercy. Jesus, Son of David, have mercy. O Lamb of God, have mercy on us." "No wonder," a missionary wrote, "I sometimes think that it is pleasanter to pray in Syriac than in our own language, because I have such fervent-minded ones with whom to pray."
The day Miss Fiske left Oroomiah, a large number of women and girls gathered around to bid her farewell. They said, "Can we not have one more prayer meeting before you leave?" They were told that they might meet in the school room. "But may it not be in that Bethel?" they asked, referring to the teacher's own room. She told them she could not lead their devotions then. Their reply was, "You need not do it; we willcarry youto-day." Seventy were soon assembled in her room. They sung, "Blest be the tie that binds," and offered six prayers. One asked that when Elijah should go up, they might all see the horsemen and chariot, and all catch the falling mantle; not sit down to weep, or send into the mountains to search for their master, but take up the mantle, go, smite Jordan, and, passing over, go to work. She then reminded the Saviour that he had promised not to leave them orphans (John xiv. 18, Greek and Syriac), and begged him not only to come to them, but to abide with them when their teacher was gone. Her thoughts then turned to the departing company, who were to take their long land journey of six hundred miles on horseback. She asked that the sun might not smite them by day, nor the moon by night. Theirs was a desert way, and the Lord was entreated to spread a table for them through all the wilderness, and, when they should pass over the narrow, precipitous roads, to give his angels charge to keep them in all their ways, and bear them up in their hands, lest they dash a foot against a stone; and when they should go through the rivers, not to let the waters overflow them. The company would lodge by night in tents, and it was asked that the angel of the Lord might ever encamp round about the moving tabernacle. Borne in mind as they should pass on, first to the steamer, and then to the sailing vessel, she asked that when they should be on the "fire ship," the flame might not kindle upon them; and when on the "winged ship," where the waves would go up to heaven, and down to hell, that He would keep them in the hollow of his hand, and bring them to the desired haven. She then asked that all her teacher's friends might be spared till she should reach them, especially the aged mother, and that when she should fold her daughter in her arms, she might say, like Simeon of old, "Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace." Here she paused, and Miss Fiske thought she had finished; but soon she added, "May our teacher's dust never mingle with a father's dust, or with a mother's dust; but may she come back to us to mingle her dust with her children's dust, hear the trumpet with them, and with them go up to meet the Lord, and be forever with him." Nor did their prayerfulness cease after their teacher had left them.
There was a pupil in the Seminary, who, before conversion, was exceedingly obstinate and rude; but afterwards, in writing to Miss Fiske, she uses expressions like these: "I remember how you used to put your arms about my neck, and tell me how Christ became obedient unto death; not for friends, but for enemies like me. Especially do I remember how you spoke of that love which saw a remedy in its own blood, when there was no help for a lost world. At that time I did not understand it, but now I know not how to express my gratitude. I know that you are very happy with your aged mother, though your heart is here; and she is happy, too, that she sees your face. Yet these earthly meetings, though so pleasant, are but for a season. But how delightful will be that meeting with the holy angels, with the risen Lamb, and with God our Father! and if separations are so trying here, what must be those of the last day? May I not then be separated from you. If I should be, I know you will say, 'Holy, holy Lord God, just art thou, for she has been taught.' We miss you much; but the Teacher who is better than any earthly instructor, came and taught us this winter (1858-1859). The Lord Jesus has been the gardener of our school. He has come down and watered it with heavenly rain. He has truly fulfilled his promise, 'I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you.' He said, 'Wait for the promise of the Father.' We waited for his coming, and he turned himself quickly, and we had delightful seasons. Our times of prayer were longed for. We prayed more than we did any thing else. When we retire from the school room now, in many places two girls are found praying together. In my village I meet the women together and alone. I also have precious seasons, praying with a company of girls; and I have selected two women to pray with and for till they shall be Christians. I hope that they will choose Christ for their portion. Some of the women of our village, like Mary, sit at Jesus' feet. One Christian mother had an only son, and very wicked, who trod the Sabbath under foot, and was wholly given up to his own pleasure. She set apart a day for fasting and prayer in his behalf, and soon the Lord met him in his evil way, and now he is a decided Christian."
But let us leave these general views, and look at this prayerfulness more in the order of its manifestations.
During the revival in 1846, two of the pupils spent a whole night in prayer for the conversion of their brothers, first one leading in devotion, and then the other, till morning. Like Jacob they felt, "We will not let thee go except thou bless us." While the missionaries admired their pious zeal, it is proper to add, that they generally insisted on the observance of regular hours of sleep, as conducive alike to bodily and spiritual health. Yet one writes on a similar occasion, "Sometimes, in my anxiety, I have gone to their cold closets to persuade them to leave; but the fervor of their prayers has oftener driven me to mine, than it has allowed me to call them from theirs."
Twice, and even three times, a day, were not enough for them to retire for communion with God. Many spent hours every day at the mercy seat. There were but few closets, and this was a great trial to them. Often three or four of them might be seen sitting, in tears, waiting their turn to go in to the mercy seat. Would that they might have had some of those closets at home that are never entered! At another time, the Bible of one of the girls was found on one of their wooden stools, open at the fifty-first psalm, and the page blotted with weeping, as she read it preparatory to retiring for prayer. Her teacher could put her finger on no part of those large pages without touching a tear.[1] Still later, when news of the death of Munny, of Ardishai, by the accidental discharge of a gun, reached Miss Fiske in America, her first thought was, "Dear child, I shall never again break off your communion with Jesus;" for she remembered that when once she begged her to leave her closet and get rest for the Sabbath, her reply was, "O, I am so sorry that you spoke to me! I was having such a good time with my dear Saviour." Only a few days before her death, while in the vineyard with her brother, she suddenly clasped her hands, and exclaimed, "Blessed Mr. Stoddard! when shall I see him? and when shall I see my blessed Saviour?" [Footnote 1: See page 138.]
A poor woman came to the Seminary one day, weeping for her sins, and seated herself on the floor. The teacher was soon at her side, telling her of Him who was wounded for our transgressions. She prayed with her, and then asked her to pray for herself. "But I can't pray; I don't know your prayers." "Hatoon, don't try to pray like me, or like any body; but just tell God how you feel and what you want." "May I tell God just what is in my heart?" Being assured on that point, she fell on her face, weeping aloud, saying amid sobs, "O God, I am not fit even for an old broom to sweep with," and could say no more. This was doubtless the most worthless thing the poor woman could think of in her humble home. But it was not long ere she could join others in their little meetings for prayer; and she still lives, honoring the Saviour, whom she loves. She is the mother of two of the most useful graduates of the Seminary.
Again: a pious man brought his wife to spend a few days in the Seminary, when she was somewhat thoughtful, and left her nearly a week. Let Miss Fiske describe their meeting. "He came for her at noon, and I was conversing with him in my room, when she passed out from her closet without seeing him. (The small upper window to the left, over the central door, marks the closet.) But he saw her, and reached out his hand, saying, 'My beloved, come here.' She placed her hand in his, looked up in his face, and answered his 'Is Christ become beautiful?' with a gentle 'Ithink so.' The tears of both fell fast, while he led her, without leave, into my chamber, that they might unite in prayer. But I was glad to have them offer their firstunitedprayers there. It was ever after a more sacred place."
Miss Fiske spent most of the vacation that followed the first revival, in 1848, with Mr. Stoddard, in the villages, where her pupils aided her much in labors among the people. After a very pleasant evening spent in Geog Tapa with those who were seeking Jesus, Hanee, the pupil with whom she staid, came and asked, "Would you like to be alone?" It was the first time she had ever been asked such a question by a Nestorian, and it awakened feelings similar to those that filled her heart when first she heard the voice of a Nestorian woman leading in prayer. To use her own words, "I followed the dear child, and she led me to the best closet she could give me—a manger, where she had spread clean hay; and she said to me, as she turned to leave, 'Stay just as long as you like.' You may well suppose it was a precious spot to me. It was my own fault if I did not there meet Him who was once laid in a manger for us."
The members of the Seminary were especially interested in the monthly concert, which was held in Oroomiah, on the first Monday of the month. On that day they generally wanted two or three meetings; and in 1846 it was often difficult to persuade them to study at all. From the rising to the setting sun, the voice of supplication for a dying world continually fell upon the ear. At one time, all united in pleading for a world's redemption; then, in little companies of five or six, they urged the request; and again, each, alone in her closet, still pressed the same petition.
Previous to 1846, so few of the Nestorians knew how to pray, that religious meetings were for instruction rather than prayer; but now it was a delightful privilege to unite with them in pleading for the conversion of the world to Christ. Never were their petitions so full of unction as when offered for this object. In April, Miss Fiske's pupils, not satisfied with an extra meeting by themselves, though continued till near sunset, were induced to close it only by the promise of having a similar meeting next day. No wonder their teacher never enjoyed a monthly concert in America as she did that one. It was indeed a rare privilege to unite with such spirits in its observance.