It is this
power I hope to apply to remedy an enormous evil, and join my poor
little helping hand in the enormous revolution that in his all-embracing
Providence He has been carrying on for ages, and is now actually helping
forward. Men may think I covet fame, but I make it a rule never to read
aught written in my praise."
Livingstone's last birthday (19th March, 1873) found him in much the
same circumstances as before. "Thanks to the Almighty Preserver of men
for sparing me thus far on the journey of life. Can I hope for ultimate
success? So many obstacles have arisen. Let not Satan prevail over me, O
my good Lord Jesus." A few days after (24th March): "Nothing earthly
will make me give up my work in despair. I encourage myself in the Lord
my God, and go forward."
In the beginning of April, the bleeding from the bowels, from which he
had been suffering, became more copious, and his weakness was pitiful;
still he longed for strength to finish his work. Even yet the old
passion for natural history was strong; the aqueous plants that abounded
everywhere, the caterpillars that after eating the plants ate one
another, and were such clumsy swimmers; the fish with the hook-shaped
lower jaw that enabled them to feed as they skimmed past the plants; the
morning summons of the cocks and turtle-doves; the weird scream of the
fish eagle--all engaged his interest.
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