ght be estrangement from his friend, but prayed
earnestly that it might lead to his awakening. This prayer was
answered, and afterwards this very friend became his beloved associate
in missionary work in India.

In very early youth Mr. Martyn became fondly attached to a young lady
named Lydia Grenfell. She considered herself his superior in social
position. The memoirs all speak of her as estimable, and we infer from
the little that is said that she somewhat indifferently accepted Henry
Martyn's homage, but she did not wholeheartedly and generously
respond. What a contrast to the beloved and devoted Harriet Newell,
who was not afraid to risk all for Christ, and counted not her life
dear even unto the death! It was Miss Grenfell's greatest honor that
Henry Martyn would have made her his wife, but she declined the honor,
and yet gave him encouragement, for their correspondence only ended
with his life, and his very last writing was a letter to her. He
begged her with all the eloquence of a lonely and devoted heart to
come out to him after he had gone to India, arranging every detail for
her comfort with thoughtful tenderness, and urging and encouraging her
and lavishing upon her an affection that would have crowned and
enriched her life. We are left to infer from the history that she did
love him in her way, but if she had shared his consecration and gone
with him and taken care of him, and cheered and comforted him, and
made for him a happy restful home, as some missionary wives have done
in self-denying foreign fields, what a blessing she might have been,
and her life, how fruitful, and her memory, how fragrant! As it was,
she has this distinction, that she was Henry Martyn's disappointment
and trial and discipline. No one less tender and sensitive than Henry
Martyn can appreciate all he suffered on this account; but he made it,
like all the other great sorrows of his life, a cross on which to be
crucified with Christ.

He writes to his dear sister S.: "When I sometimes offer up
supplications with strong crying to God to bring down my spirit into
the dust I endeavor calmly to contemplate the infinite majesty of the
most high God and my own meanness and wickedness, or else I quietly
tell the Lord, who knows the heart, I would give Him all the glory of
everything if I could. But the most effectual way I have ever found is
to lead away my thoughts from myself and my own concerns by praying
for all my friends, for the chu