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.
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