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"Be brave, my brother, Fight the good fight of faith With weapons proved and true. Be faithful and unshrinking to the death: Thy God will bear thee through. Grudge not the heavy cost. Faint not at labor here: 'Tis but a lifetime at the most; The day of rest is near."

Justus Hatch Vinton has been in his heavenly home for twenty years; but his memory, with that of his no less devoted wife, Calista Holman, is still tenderly cherished in the hearts of those who know any thing of the first thirty years of mission work among the Karens of Burmah.

Rarely have two kindred souls gone forth to their life-work so peculiarly adapted to the scenes of hardship and trial, mingled with glorious successes, as were these.

Justus H. Vinton was born in Willington, Conn., Feb. 17, 1806. Calista Holman was born in Union, Conn., April 19, 1807. Both emphatically learned to bear the yoke in their youth. Mr. Vinton was early led to Christ. When only ten years of age, he was converted, and soon after united with the Baptist church at Ashford, Conn., and even at that age evinced many of the traits which made his after-life such a grand success.

At the age of sixteen, the increasing gravity of his demeanor and the fervency of his devotion awakened apprehension in the mind of his mother, who feared that it might be the result of failing health; but, in reply to her questionings as to the cause of his changed conduct, he answered, "Mother, 'woe be unto me if I preach not the gospel.'" This was the first intimation he had given to any one of his determination to enter the work of the ministry.

In the year 1826, when scarcely twenty years of age, he entered Hamilton Literary and Theological Institution.

He had, some time before going to Hamilton, offered himself to the church at Ashford for license to preach. Strange to say, there was some hesitancy in granting him a license, owing to the remarkable absence of all self-assertion upon the part of the candidate. The venerable John G. Wightman, who was present, was requested by the brethren to decide for them. He replied that he had no doubt as to the advisability of licensing the young man to preach. He was convinced that he had the grace of God in his heart; and that, as no babe was born six feet high, there was a reasonable hope that the young brother would grow.

Strange that the brethren should have hesitated to license one, of whom the record of Madison University says, "He was pre-eminently a man of revival-power; and probably no single life in Burmah has shown larger results in the ingathering of souls to Christ."

In 1829, after the most careful thought, he appointed a day of fasting and prayer, in order that he might learn his duty with regard to devoting himself to preaching in the then sparsely settled West. In a letter written to his parents he says, "When the day came, I retired that I might be quite alone with God, that thus I might, with more freedom, pour out my soul before him in fervent supplication for his Spirit to guide me in the decision I was about to make as to the field of my future labor. Here it was, while upon my knees before the Lord, that I received my first impressions that it would be my duty to leave my native land, and go far away to the benighted heathen, that I might preach among them the unsearchable riches of Christ. I had previously designed to spend the day in prayerful consideration of the claims of the West; but at this time I was so strongly impressed that it would be my duty to go to Burmah, that during the day I could think of little else but the forlorn condition of that deluded and infatuated people."

Fearful lest he might be mistaken, and being continually urged by some of his fellow-students who were under appointment to the West, and were anxious to have him accompany them, he concluded to defer definite decision for a year. At the end of this period he reconsidered all the arguments presented, and decided to go to Burmah. From that moment he never wavered. His conviction became stronger, until, as he says, his whole soul "became absorbed in the delightful anticipation of carrying to benighted Burmah the news of an ascended Saviour." He paid the expenses of his college course by teaching district and singing schools, and by supplying churches in the neighborhood of Hamilton. He apologizes, in a letter to his mother, for not having written home for several months, saying that his studies had been pressing him very hard, and that every Saturday he had ridden thirty miles to supply a destitute church. In other letters he speaks of teaching district-schools for twelve dollars per month; and in one letter he congratulates himself greatly on having "by judicious firmness" secured the privilege of boarding all the time at one place.

His singing-schools were very popular, and are still remembered by older residents in the vicinity of Hamilton.

It has been said that "there never was a Vinton who could not sing;" and the rich, full voice with which God had blessed him, not only helped to supply his scanty purse while a student, but in the jungles of Burmah it won the heart of many a wild Karen; and thousands of redeemed souls in glory to-day could testify that Mr. Sankey was not the first who ever thought of "singing the gospel."

At this time his letters home were upon one topic, and that was religion. Frequently is the record made of the wonderful way in which God had blessed his labors: in one revival, over seventy were converted within three weeks. Many times he notes the fact that the singing-school had been turned into a prayer-meeting.

At one time his district-school became the scene of a precious outpouring of the Holy Spirit. This was at Laurens, Otsego County, N.Y. From the work there begun, over fifty in the town alone were converted at the date of his letter; and the work continued for months after.

These facts are not recorded as strange, but simply to show the spirit of the man. What more unlikely field for divine grace than a country singing-school, unless, perhaps, it be the ordinary district-school of forty years ago?

Once, when home on a vacation, he heard of a church that had become so cold and lifeless that it had ceased to hold any public service. He went to the place, and gave out an appointment to preach. As might have been anticipated, when the hour of service came, not a soul was present save himself. Without appearing to think that he should have been discouraged, he sat down upon the church-steps, and began to sing. Soon a crowd gathered; upon which he invited them into the church, and preached so fervently, that a large number were convicted, and a revival began which extended throughout the whole township.

It was during this time that his beloved sister Belinda, who had cherished the desire of accompanying him to Burmah, was suddenly smitten down by disease, and died. He, at Hamilton, heard only that she was very ill. Unable to leave at the time, he wrote the following touching letter:--

DEAR SISTER BELINDA,--From a letter received from our dear parents, I learn that you are upon a bed of sickness, perhaps upon a bed of death. This is what I had least anticipated. I have for a number of weeks been thinking of writing to you upon the glorious theme that has so enchanted both our hearts; but alas! it seems that I have nothing more to do with counselling and encouraging you respecting your future labors here on earth. Allow me, then, dear sister, to say one word with reference to your work above. My poor soul almost breaks forth with ecstasy while, for a moment, I allow my imagination to carry me forward, to witness your employment when you shall have dropped this clay tenement, and your disembodied spirit shall have soared away to breathe the pure and holy atmosphere of heaven. There shall you be introduced into the presence of your once suffering, now glorified Saviour. You shall see him as he is. You shall be permitted to gaze on his uncreated beauties, and vie with the angels in praising your Redeemer.

But what is that I see just before you? It is a dark and lonely vale; but fear it not, my sister. Come, let us walk together to the entrance of this dark valley.

Does your courage seem to fail you? Lean upon that tried arm: it will sustain you. Are you disheartened at the ruggedness of the way? Cheer up your drooping spirits: the way is short, and heavenly music shall attend your course, and scatter all the gloom. And when heart and flesh shall fail you, when friends can accompany you no farther, then angel-forms shall guide you, and, more blessed than all else beside, Jesus the Saviour shall be with you, and lead you by living fountains of waters.

Allow me one word with regard to your encounter with the last enemy, Death. Your victory and future triumph are secure. It is true that the enemy you will encounter is haggard in his form; but be not afraid of him. His deadly power has been taken from him; so that all he can do is but to cut the cord which binds you here to earth, and free your captive soul, to be with Christ. Meet him, then, dear sister, fearlessly. Meet him with a shout of victory; and, as you enter on the contest, say triumphantly, "O Death! where is thy sting? O grave! where is thy victory? Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ."

And should you for a moment seem to fall beneath his power, look away to Jesus, and cry exultingly, "Rejoice not over me, O mine enemy! Though I fall, I shall arise again!" and Jesus, yes, dear sister, Jesus, will surely bring you off victorious. Oh, how that blessed thought lifts the soul above, and fits it for its exit!

I have written you, dear sister, as though I should never see you again till we meet in heaven. Still the Lord may yet allow you the privilege of serving him upon some heathen shore; and this may be to fit you for his work. God grant it may be so! But, should it be otherwise, he may allow your spirit to go and visit Burmah, and there witness the trophies of his grace; yes, and thence again to ascend to heaven, carrying the blest intelligence that heathen souls are coming home to God.

Your affectionate brother,

J. H. VINTON.

She died a few days after the date of this letter. Her youngest sister, Miranda, filled the place by her brother's side, which this sad death left vacant, when in 1841 she joined the Maulmain Karen mission.