The way has been broken, and
all good men acknowledge that the heroism of the missionary woman is grand
and sublime. The decision made by Harriet Atwood was different from that
made by others in after years, inasmuch as she had no example, no pattern.
She realized that the advice of friends, biased as it was by prejudice and
affection, could not be relied upon; and, driven to the throne of God, she
wrestled there until her course of action was decided and her mind fixed
intently upon the great work before her. Her resolution to go to India was
assailed on every side. Those to whom she had been accustomed to look for
advice and counsel, friends on whose judgment she had relied, shook their
heads and gave decided tokens of disapprobation. But the question was
finally settled. On one side were the gay world, her young associates,
her kind relatives, her own care and comfort. On the other side stood a
bleeding Savior and a dying world. To the question, "Lord, what wilt thou
have me to do?" she heard the response, "Go work to-day in my vineyard;"
and when she looked forth upon the harvest, white for the reaper's hand,
she hesitated not to consecrate on the altar of her God her services, her
time, her life.
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