Sybil: Early on the morning of the 25th we crossed the Tropic of Capricorn and entered the southern temperate zone. The northern, the region of our birth, we shall probably never enter again.
But, distant climates need not look strange to us, for if we are the children of GOD, and live near to Him, we can never be far from home. [Christmas] was noticed by us as the Anniversary of the blessed Saviour’s birth. Mr. B preached from Luke 2, 14th. [Glory to God in the Highest] …It was peculiarly adapted both to the day and the circum- stances of most of the hearers,—on our way, as we are, with the glorious news of this most glorious event, to heathen sinners.
A CHRISTMAS HYMN By W. G. Conan [Sailor aboard the Thaddeus]
Sung at Sea by the Mission family – Tune – “The Hermit”
May Religion’s blest Star, as we traverse the Ocean,
Illumine our way, and its comforts impart,
While our fond lingering thoughts, we back with emotion,
To the country that holds the dear friends of each heart.
JEHOVAH— assist, in the soul-trying hour,
The Mission of Peace, to a far distant land,
By them, may the Priests of Idolatry learn,
That their Morais and Taboos and offerings are vain,
Let the Nation, from Idols and violence turn,
And the joy of Salvation perpetual reign.
Now swell the loud anthems of praise to the Lord,
From whom streams of Mercy incessantly flow,
Be the Father, the Son, and the Spirit adored,
By all nations, and kindreds, and realms here below.
January 11th, 1820 – What can I say to my sisters, this morning?
I can tell them, could the eye glance across the great waters and catch the little bark, ascending and descending the mountainous waves, which contains their dear sister, their hands would be involuntarily extended for her relief, and their cry would be save her! The sea runs very high, while the wind roars through the naked riggings as you may have heard it, in a November’s day, through the leafless trees of a majestic forest. The dashing of the waves on deck, the frequent fall of some thing below, the violent motion of the vessel, going up and then down, would seem to conspire to terrify and distress; yet I feel my mind calm as if by a winter’s fire in my own happy land. Is it not of the mercy of GOD? I feel it is. But, O, the poor returns I make ! We are approaching Cape Horn. What terrific scenes await us there, we know not.
“Sufficient for us, our Pilot is divinely wise, divinely good.”