glass to hasten it, they will gather into a millstone weight to sink
us in endless, unavailing regret. Though she is dead, Mrs. Judson's
works still live; and generation after generation of Burmans will
associate her name with that of her honored husband, as benefactors to
their race.

In December, 1844, the health of Mrs. Judson began to decline. Her
anxious husband, determined to leave no means untried, to save a life so
precious to the mission and so invaluable to himself and his family,
decided to quit for a while his loved labors in Burmah and accompany
his wife to America. They in May 1845 sailed, and on reaching the Isle
of France, she found herself so far restored that she could no longer
conscientiously detain her husband from his duties in India, and she
resolved to let him go back to their home there, while she with her
children, should complete the journey that still seemed necessary for
her entire restoration. One of the sweetest of her poems was occasioned
by this resolution.

"We part on this green islet, Love,
Thou for the Eastern main,
I, for the setting sun, Love--
Oh, when to meet again?

My heart is sad for thee, Love,
For lone thy way will be;
And oft thy tears will fall, Love,
For thy children and for me.

The music of thy daughter's voice
Thou'lt miss for many a year;
And the merry shout of thine elder boys
Thou'lt list in vain to hear.

When we knelt to see our Henry die,
And heard his last faint moan,
Each wiped the tear from other's eye--
Now, each must weep alone.

My tears fall fast for thee, Love,--
How can I say farewell!
But go;--thy God be with thee, Love,
Thy heart's deep grief to quell!

Yet my spirit clings to thine, Love,
Thy soul remains with me,
And oft we'll hold communion sweet,
O'er the dark and distant sea.

And who can paint our mutual joy,
When, all our wanderings o'er,
We both shall clasp our infants three,
At home, on Burmah's shore.

But higher shall our raptures glow,
On yon celestial plain,
When the loved and parted here below
Meet, ne'er to part again.

Then gird thine armor on, Love,
Nor faint thou by the way,
Till Boodh shall fall, and Burmah's sons
Shall own Messiah's sway."

But her health still sinking, her husband could not leave her, and she
was borne back to