o be forgotten at Cawnpore, if only as the priest to whom it
was granted first to give thanks that, in his own words, "a temple of God
was erected and a door opened for the service of the Almighty in a place
where, from the foundation of the world, the tabernacle of the true God
had never stood."

After returning from church he sank, nearly fainting, on a sofa in the
hall; but, as soon as he revived, begged his friends to sing to him. The
hymn was--

"O God, our help in ages past,
Our hope in years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home."

After the early dinner and afternoon rest, on a sickly, hazy, burning
evening, he preached for the last time to his beggars; came away
fainting, and as he lay on his sofa told his friends that he did not
believe that he had ever made the slightest impression on _one_ of his
audience there.

He knew not that Sheik Salah's heart had been touched, and so deeply that
he sought further instruction. As to Sabat, his later career was
piteous. He fell back into Mahometanism, and, after some years of a
wandering life, took service with the Mussulman chief of Acheen in
Sumatra, where, having given some offence, he was barbarously hacked to
pieces and thrown into the sea. Such bitter disappointments occur in
missionary life; and how should we wonder, since the like befel even St.
Paul and St. John?

On the 1st of October, 1810, Mr. Martyn embarked on the Ganges, and on
the last day of the month arrived at Mr. Brown's house at Aldeen. He was
then much the stronger for the long rest to his voice and chest, but his
friends thought him greatly changed and enfeebled, and he could not even
hold a conversation without bringing on painful symptoms. Nevertheless,
he preached every Sunday but one at Calcutta until the 7th of January,
1811, when he took his last leave of his Anglo-Indian friends, and set
forth on his journey to lands almost entirely strange even to his
countrymen, in the hope of rendering the Scriptures available for the
study of the numerous Hindoos and Mahometans who understood Persian
better than any other literary language. He went forth, in broken
health, and not only without a companion, but without even an attendant,
and for his further history we have only his own journals and letters to
depend upon. He went by sea to Bombay with a captain who had been a
pupil of Swartz, and whose narratives delighted him much, and afterwar