Though we marvel at the Bible translation output of William Carey (1761–1834) and the Serampore community, Henry Martyn (1781–1812) proved a far more capable Bible translator. Trained in biblical and classical languages and mathematics at Cambridge, Martyn oversaw in his short life the translation of the New Testament into Urdu, Arabic, and Persian in less than six years of missionary service in India and Persia.
In 1923, Constance Padwick (1886–1968), a long-time missionary with the Church Missionary Society in the Arab world, published Henry Martyn: Confessor of the Faith to capture the life and significance of the visionary 19th-century missionary. Although four biographies on Martyn had been published before the turn of the 20th century, those works were appreciative and borderline hagiographic.
Writing a century after Martyn’s death, Padwick narrates his journey more soberly and from the perspective of a veteran missionary in the Muslim world. Having also written a biography on her colleague, William Henry Temple Gairdner, Padwick valued historical reflection to encourage wisdom for ongoing ministry. What lessons about mission can be gleaned from Padwick’s presentation of Martyn?
Tentmaker and Translator
Martyn went to India not as a missionary per se but as a strategically placed religious professional. He initially aimed to join the Church Missionary Society. But since his father’s inheritance was lost and Martyn was responsible for providing for his younger sister, he instead accepted a chaplain position for the British East India Company.
While Martyn primarily served as a pastor to the English-speaking expatriate community, his chaplaincy role allowed him some freedom to minister to Indians. He organized church services for Urdu-speaking women and beggars. He even started a school to teach children how to read. But Martyn’s chaplaincy also afforded him much time for his first love in ministry: Bible translation. Along with another colleague, he caught a vision for a groundbreaking project—translating Scripture into three related languages (Urdu, Persian, and Arabic) at the same time.
Martyn worked directly on the Urdu translation, which was closely aligned with his pastoral ministry in Dinapore and Cawnpore, India. In 1810, he finished the Urdu New Testament, and it was published in 1814.
Meanwhile, he oversaw the Arabic and Persian translations, including managing a team of consultants. Based on initial feedback, Martyn expressed concern about the quality of the Arabic translation and wanted to check it with Arab scholars. On their confirmation, the Scripture was published in 1816. But perhaps the most stunning accomplishment of Martyn’s team was their translation of the Persian New Testament, completed in just 34 months and published in 1815.
Missionary Scholar
Among 19th-century missionaries and translators, Martyn possessed the strongest skills in biblical languages and the greatest aptitude for learning Oriental languages. Though he admired and collaborated with Carey and the Serampore community, Martyn’s natural abilities and training set him apart.
Among 19th-century missionaries and translators, Martyn possessed the strongest skills in biblical languages and the greatest aptitude for learning Oriental languages.
Martyn also demonstrated a tireless work ethic. Even while traveling aboard a ship or laboring in the hot Indian and Persian climates, he maintained a rigorous study and translation schedule. He dug deep into methodical and meticulous work with his translation teams, constantly checking for accuracy. Viewing study as a spiritual discipline of sorts that refreshed him, he wrote in his journal, “Study never makes me ill” (229).
In his translation and apologetic work, Martyn insisted on engaging with primary sources such as the Qur’an and works of Muslim theologians. He also debated and dialogued with Muslim scholars. A missional academic, Martyn was passionate about providing an accurate and beautiful translation of Scripture for Urdu, Arabic, and Persian speakers.
Hospitable Friend
Though Martyn preferred a quiet life of prayer and study, he demonstrated a commitment to what many today would call being incarnational. As chaplain aboard multiple East India Company vessels, he ministered to the sailors and crew. In India, he opened his home to British soldiers and Indians alike for Bible studies and church services. Martyn also took a relational approach to language learning. Though he enjoyed studying grammars and texts, he made significant progress in various languages by visiting with Indians, Arabs, and Persians.
As a minister committed to hospitality, Martyn frequently opened his home to visitors. At any given time, his salon would be filled with an eclectic group of guests—Muslim scholars, Roman Catholic and Armenian Orthodox priests, and Muslim and Christian translation assistants. The British community mockingly called him the “black clergyman” because he welcomed Indians to his home (243).
Even Martyn’s apologetic encounters with Muslims were marked by the grace and compassion of Christ. Through winsomely defending the gospel, he spoke of a mutual love that developed between him and his Muslim friends. Cultivating a “tender concern . . . for their souls,” Martyn believed that Muslims were drawn to Christ through love, not through arguments (205).
Human Being
Padwick’s biography shows us that, despite his brilliance and productivity, Martyn was still a human being. When he set sail for India, he left behind Lydia Grenfell, a woman with whom he’d fallen in love but who wasn’t prepared to join him in India. His journals and letters reveal his loneliness and his longing to be with her.
Martyn also struggled to connect with British expatriates and poor Indians. A self-proclaimed “raw academic,” he found pastoral ministry to soldiers and sailors difficult (129). While working among locals, he’d step out of his comfort zone to speak Urdu, Arabic, and Persian, though he would’ve much preferred to stay in his room and read.
Before Martyn left for India, friends tried to dissuade him because of his fragile health. He battled sickness amid sea travel while living in India. As he was beginning to die of tuberculosis, he pressed on tirelessly, traveling through Persia and laboring to review and check his translation with Persian scholars. During the 1,500-mile journey on horseback from Persia to Istanbul, Martyn died in Tokat, Turkey, on October 16, 1812, at the age of 31. Henry Martyn lived up to his life’s calling: “Let me burn out for God.”
Faithful Example
Martyn’s example provides the global church with much to emulate.
As a minister committed to hospitality, Martyn frequently opened his home to visitors.
While we should continue to send vocational missionaries to the world, we can also celebrate those who go to the nations through other avenues such as business and nonprofit development and who witness for Christ in those spheres.
Like Martyn, academics ought to use their gifts and passions for the glory of God globally: theologians serving in theological education, professors across academic disciplines teaching in universities, medical professionals and researchers working in clinics and hospitals, and international lawyers promoting religious and human rights.
Global Christians can also emulate Martyn’s values by practicing hospitality in their adopted homelands.
Ultimately, Martyn’s story reminds us God’s people often face many hardships, including health challenges, wherever they are. But we should serve each day by faith in and dependence on God’s power. And we should be willing to, like a flaming candle, burn out for God, giving our all for the sake of his mission.
The Gospel Coalition