Daughters of the Cross: or Womans Mission | Page 7

having its doctrines
engraven on the heart, and inspired and quickened into life by its
mysterious energy. It was the cross that induced the early disciples to
brave danger and death to spread abroad the new faith. The martyr at
the stake, amid the curling flames, was supported by it; the exile from
home, banished to rude and savage wilds, loved it; the prisoner in his
chains, confined and scourged, tortured and bleeding, turned to it, and
found satisfaction for all his wrongs; the laborer for God, amid wild
men who had no sympathy for his vocation, carried the cross, and
fainted not in his anxious toil.
And such was the effect of the cross on the mind of Mrs. Newell. It sent
her forth in all the love of womanhood, and sustained her until the close
of life, It produced on her the impression that it made upon the dreamer
Bunyan, who saw it as he was escaping from the city of destruction. He
came to it with a heavy heart and a burdened soul; but as he saw it the
burden fell and rolled into the sepulchre, and his load was gone. He
gazed with rapture and delight; and the tears burst forth and flowed
down his cheeks, and joy and holy satisfaction filled his soul.
Here is the great moving motive, one which is above all others, one that
is more effective than all others; and by this our heroine was animated
and cheered in her missionary work.
Up to the time of her departure for India, the mind of Miss Atwood
continued to be exercised with contending feelings. At one time the
sacrifice, the toil, the labor, and self-denial of a missionary life would
rise up before her. She would feel how great the trial must be to leave
all the endeared scenes of youth and childhood, and go forth to toil, and
perhaps die, among strangers in a strange land. Dark visions would
often flit before her; and she felt how terrible it must be to sicken and
expire on shores where no mother's kind hand could lift her anguished
head nor smooth her fevered pillow. But at other times her spirit soared

above the toil and sorrow, and dwelt with rapture upon the bliss, of
seeing some of the poor, degraded heathen females converted to Christ.
The glory of the great enterprise presented itself; and she realized the
blessedness of those who leave father and mother, brother and sister,
houses and land, for the promotion of the kingdom of Christ. From
these various struggles she came forth purified, dead to the world, and
alive unto Christ. Any sacrifice she was willing to make, any toil
endure. It was her meat and drink to do the will of God and accomplish
his work. After a full investigation of all the privations and sacrifices of
a missionary life, after a solemn and prayerful estimate of all that was
to be left behind and all that would be gained, she formed her opinion
and decided to go forth. A feeble woman, just out of childhood, she
linked her fate with an unpopular and scorned enterprise, and cast in
her lot with the dark-browed daughters of India.
We have seen grand enterprises commenced and carried on; we have
seen our fellow-men gathering imperishable laurels; but never before
did the world witness so grand a spectacle, with so high an object to be
accomplished by mortals, as was given in the departure of Harriet
Newell to teach the lessons of Jesus in distant lands. We consider the
career of Napoleon a glorious one. We cannot look upon his successful
marches and battles, however much we disapprove his course, without
something of admiration mingled with our abhorrence. There was a
gorgeous glory which gathered around the character of that emperor of
blood which hides his errors and dazzles the eyes of the beholder. But
the true glory which gathered over that little band of missionaries, as
they left the snow-covered, icebound coast of America, to find homes
and graves in distant India, far outshines all the glitter of pomp and
imperial splendor which ever shed its rays upon the brilliant successes
of the monarch of France, the conqueror of Europe.
True, they went forth alone. No weeping church followed them to the
water side; no crowded shore sent up its wail, or echoed forth the
fervent prayer; but in the homes of the people, in the heart of God,
these holy men and women were remembered. Had that beautiful hymn
been composed for them, it could not have been more appropriate; and
as they stood upon the deck of the wave-washed Caravan, it must have
been the sentiments of all their hearts.
"Scenes of sacred grace and pleasure, Holy days and