Going to Pondicherry by Elizabeth P. Allan

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · May 17, 1883

Going to Pondicherry.

By Elizabeth P. Allan

Not many of us will realize any present result from the far-reaching and laborious and expensive observations on the recent transit of Venus, though we all recognize their dignity and importance.

But there is a little incident connected with an earlier trip of that little dark spot across the sun, which has a sermon for us all, and especially, I have been thinking, for Sunday-school teachers.

Le Gentil, a French academician, was appointed to observe the transit of 1761 at Pondicherry, that place being, for reasons best known to scientists, a very important station for the purpose. India seemed, in those days, an immense distance from France; and Le Gentil, to make sure of his object, set out for Pondicherry a year and three months before the time of the expected transit of Venus. Before he reached India, war broke out between England and France, and, after untiring efforts to reach his appointed post, Le Gentil was doomed to pass the eventful day on shipboard without the astrominical accoutrements which would make his observations valuable.

Undaunted by this sad failure, he resolved to witness the transit of 1769, whether fate should be for or against him; accordingly, before the end of the year 1761, as soon as it was possible, he made his way into Pondicherry, and there took up his abode, to await while diligently pursuing scientific studies, the expected transit, then eight years in the future.

The pathetic end of the story (for after his long waiting a cloudy day defeated his hopes) does not in any way affect the moral I would point. Le Gentil could not influence the clouds to yield to his purpose, but what may not you effect, who seek for influence with human souls, by a like courage, faith, patience, enthusiasm, foresight, devotion? If only there could be a "going to Pondicherry" through the rank and file of our army of Sunday-school teachers, the church of Christ would rise and possess the land. What could resist nine years of steady, unyielding effort, a watchfulness to step in before the enemy at every crisis, an undiscouraged faith, unwearied patience, untiring diligence? Which of the excuses that sometimes defeat our chances of winning souls, would have stood between Le Gentil and Pondicherry?—a headache? an east wind? weariness? shyness?

And compare the time we put on our work with his nine years of arduous exile. If we devote an hour a day, during the week, to our Sunday-school scholars, in study, or visiting, or in any service for them, we are quite satisfied with ourselves; if two hours, we secretly feel that we are particularly profitable servants, having done all that was our duty, and some more besides; while many of us have but a hasty hour or two at the fag-end of the week to compare with our astronomer's nine patient years. And the possible results? Le Gentil, if successful, could only hope to accomplish a very small addition to the sum of human knowledge, but we know that we may add souls to the glorious company of those who are to hear the "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom."—Elizabeth P. Allan, in S. S. Times.