“The English service, at seven in the morning. I preached on Luke xxii. 22. As is always the case when I preach about Christ, a spiritual influence was diffused over my soul. The rest of the morning, till dinner time, I spent, not unprofitably, in reading scripture, and David Brainerd, and in prayer. That dear saint of God, David Brainerd, is truly a man after my own heart. Although I cannot go half-way with him in spirituality and devotion, I cordially unite with him in such of his holy breathings as I have attained unto. How sweet and wise, like him and the saints of old, to pass through this world as a serious and considerate stranger. I have had more of this temper to-day than of late, and every duty has been in harmony with my spirit. The service in Hindoostanee was at two o’clock. The number of women not above one hundred. I expounded chapter iii. of St. Matthew. Notwithstanding the general apathy with which they seemed to receive every thing, there were two or three who, I was sure, understood and felt something. But, beside the women, not a single creature, European or native, was present. Yet true spirituality, with all its want of attraction for the carnal heart, did prevail over the splendid shows of Greece and Rome, and shall again here. A man at the hospital much refreshed me, by observing, that if I made an acquisition of but one convert in my whole life, it would be a rich reward; and that I was taking the only possible way to this end.” There were, however, some of the officers, who evinced serious feelings; and one was brought to embrace the offers of salvation. Martyn longed for the time when he should be qualified to go into the midst of the Hindoos with the gospel. “O,” said he, in a letter to Mr. Corrie, missionary at another station, “that the time were come that I should be able to carry the war into the enemy’s territory. It will be a severe trial to the flesh, my dear brother, for us both;—but it is sufficient for the disciple to be as his master, and the servant as his Lord. We shall be ‘accounted as the filth of the world, and the off-scouring of all things.’ But glory be to God, if we shall be accounted worthy to suffer shame for the name of the Lord Jesus.” His journal of a trip to Monghir, about a hundred miles distant, shows the distress he felt, because his zeal was not greater, and because he was not so holy and spiritual as he desired to be. He had, no doubt, just reasons for lamenting many neglected opportunities for doing good, and for deploring the many wanderings of his heart from God; but we are not to understand that he was outwardly wicked or careless, when he speaks of his condition in such strong language.