# A Week in Abdu'l-Baha's Home

*Exported from [Holy-Writings.com](https://www.holy-writings.com/) on 2026-06-19 — 1 clipping.*

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> Source: Bahá'í Library Online (bahai-library.com), curated by Jonah Winters. Used by permission of the curator. Original citation: Genevieve L. Coy, A Week in Abdu'l-Baha's Home, bahai-library.com.
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> 
> A Week in Abdu'l-Baha's Home
> 
> Genevieve L. Coy
> Cora E. Gray
> Mabel Hyde Paine
> Sylvia Paine
> 
> published in Star of the West12:10-13
> 
> 1921
> 
> September 1 to 8, 1920
> (The four pilgrims
> who made this glorious journey together were
> Mabel Paine, Sylvia
> Paine, Cora Grey and Genevieve Coy.)
> 
> "We have beheld the King in His Beauty; we
> have seen the land that is very far
> off".
> 
> [page 163]
> 
> September 1, 1920
> 
> Our party of four American pilgrims had left Cairo on the
> evening of August 31st. Three of the Egyptian Bahais had come to the train to
> bid us farewell, and to give us messages to take to Haifa. One of the group
> was an Armenian, who brought a basket of fruit for the Master. Another was
> Mirza Tofik, a young man of twenty-one or -two years of age, who is student in
> the college at Beirut. He interpreted for us often during our five days in
> Cairo, and also served as a most pleasant and helpful guide in some of our
> trips about the city. The third person to bid us Godspeed was Mohammed Taki
> Esphahani, in whose home we had spent some of our happiest hours in Cairo. He
> speaks no English, but he gave us many sweet thoughts, through Mirza Tofik's
> interpretation, and his smile was a benediction. We loved him so much that we
> could not have borne parting from him had it not been that the goal of our
> journey was Haifa and the Master! His parting gift to us was a tray of
> delicious pastry, and a lovely bouquet of roses. Through all the next day's
> ride the flowers kept fresh, and on the day after that there were two or three
> buds that were fresh enough to be given to he Master, when Mirza Mohammed
> Taki's message of love was told him. The Master wore them in his girdle all
> the rest of that day, and said that he always was happy when he thought of the
> loving heart of the Bahai who had given us the flowers.
> 
> When we woke on the morning of September first, the train was running through
> the desert country of southern Palestine. For mile after mile the rolling sand
> dunes stretched into the distance. Long lines of camels were passed; and
> occasionally acres of date-palms, loaded with green dates, showed where a
> little moisture was held in the sand below the dry surface. For hours we
> looked out of the window, watching with an intense fascination, those long
> miles of desert. Some one in our party that said she could quite understand
> why the children of Israel murmured in the wilderness, if that was the kind of
> country that they had to travel through! We wondered whether Joseph and Mary,
> and the infant Jesus, had traveled so hard a road when they went down into
> Egypt. But later, in Haifa, we were told that the tradition of the country
> says that they went to the port at the foot of Mt. Carmel, and from there
> continued their journey to Egypt by boat.
> 
> During the middle of the day, the train passed from the desert into the
> pasture land. That is as different from
> 
> [page 164]
> 
> our green American meadows as one can imagine. The pastures are brown and
> dry, and we wondered how the many herds of goat and sheep that we saw could
> find enough food to keep them alive. We saw almost no cows, and in Haifa we
> found that it is very difficult to obtain milk; we did not see any butter while
> we were in Palestine. Instead of butter, a white, salty cheese made from
> goat's milk is served.
> 
> In the afternoon we rode through the beautiful valley near Joffa, with its
> thousands of fruit trees. The fields have to be irrigated, but when that is
> done they "blossom abundantly," and the trees are loaded with oranges and
> lemons, which were green at that season of the year. A little farther north is
> the valley of Sharon, and we tried to remember some of the beautiful words of
> the Old Testament with regard to that valley. "The wilderness and the solitary
> place shall be glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the
> rose. It shall blossom abundantly even with joy and singing; the glory of
> Lebanon shall be given unto it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon, they shall
> see the glory of the Lord and the excellency of our God."
> 
> The last part of the journey was very beautiful. The train ran close to the
> edge of the seashore, and we saw the sun drop down through fleecy clouds and
> sink in the blue waters of the Mediterranean. On the right a low range of
> hills rose,--rocky, and sparsely covered with vegetation. Beyond them appeared
> line after line of hills, until, far in the distance, high blue mountains
> towered in to the sky. We thought that they must be the Lebanons, and we
> wondered whether we should soon see the valley of Acca. After a time the
> lowest range of hills rose so close that all the others were blotted out. Cora
> suggested that perhaps the termination of this range was Mt. Carmel, and so it
> proved to be, for suddenly we rounded a point of land, and Haifa appeared to
> the east, with Mt. Carmel above.
> 
> Haifa lies on a narrow plain at the foot of the mountain, but there are
> buildings scattered part way up the slope. A long white road traverses the
> length of the hill, and reaches the top near its western extremity. I looked
> for the Tomb of the Bab, but I am not sure whether I saw it then. The train
> runs through a considerable part of the town, before reaching the station, and
> our eyes were very eager in their search for the various places of which we had
> heard so much. Suddenly I remembered that we should now be able to see Acca
> across the bay, and hurrying to the other side of the car, I looked out--and
> across the water I glimpsed the city of the Lord, the "door of hope." We were
> so happy to be so near our journey's end,--we were so full of expectation, that
> it seemed as if the train would never reach the station. But at last we did
> pull up in front of it! Cora went out to look for a porter, and I was ready to
> pass baggage out of the window to her. But almost immediately a hand was
> reached in to shake mine, and we were welcomed by a young man, whom we later
> learned was Rouhi Effendi, one of the Master's grandsons. Soon a familiar
> figure appeared in the car, Fugeta, whom we had last seen in New York. He
> helped pass out bundles, and soon we were all on the platform with our numerous
> parcels and bags beside us. We shook hands with several young men, Bahais from
> the Master's household, and then we four American pilgrims were in the auto,
> with the driver, Rouhi Effendi, and some of our baggage. Said Effendi, who had
> just arrived from Alexandria, Fugeta, and the other friends waited for the car
> to return for them.
> 
> The car ran through several streets, going steadily upwards,--and I was too
> happy and too far from ordinary speech to be able to say a word. Suddenly we
> turned a corner, and after going less than a hundred yards the car stopped.
> 
> [page 165]
> 
> I recognized the Pilgrim House, from the picture of it in The Light of the
> World. On the other side of the road was the wall of the Master's garden,
> and rising above it, the little room, like a watch-tower, in which the Master
> often stays.
> 
> During our ride from the station, Rouhi Effendi told us that the Master was
> staying was staying on the mountain for a few days, to rest from the many
> demands made on his time when he is in his house in the town. We would not see
> him until the next day. Perhaps we were disappointed for a moment, but here
> one knows that all that the Master does is wisely done. And next morning we
> were sure that it was well that we should have time to rest, and drink in the
> exquisite peace of the place, before meeting him.
> 
> At the door of the Pilgrim House we were met by two Americans, Mrs.
> Hoagg and Malcolm McGillavrey. Malcolm had been in Haifa a week, but Mrs.
> Hoagg had been there since early in the summer. She acted as hostess for the
> Pilgrim House; she showed us to our rooms,--one for Cora and me, another for
> Mabel and Sylvia. Simple, clean, and filled with a faint fragrance as of
> incense, is our place of rest, the place the Master has provided for those who
> come from the West. Every hour I wonder more at the love and kindness which
> has so provided for our comfort! Whenever we sit down to a meal, I think,
> "This is the meal the Master has given us!" The material food has come
> now, but the spiritual food had reached us in America!
> 
> Fugeta cares for the house; he gets the breakfast; he serves the lunch, the
> food for which is brought over from the Master's house; he washes the dishes,
> he cleans the lamps, he is always busy in serving us. In the evening he helps
> wait on table, at dinner in the Master's house. The other boy who serves at
> dinner is Khosro, who came from Burmah when he was very young, to serve the
> Master.
> 
> After our arrival at the Pilgrim House we sat on the porch for a while. The
> night was beautiful,--a full moon, and yet the stars were very bright. At
> about half past seven, Mrs. Hoagg took us over to the Master's house to meet
> the ladies of the household. We entered a gate that is covered with a
> luxuriant growth of vines, and walked under an arbor to the entrance of the
> house. It was hard to believe that we were really there! We had seen pictures
> of the house often and it was so very like the pictures! (That is true of
> everything here. The pictures we have seen have been very good, I think, for
> one recognizes places and people immediately.)
> 
> We went up a rather long, broad flight of steps, turned to the left, and were
> in a high-ceilinged room of moderate size. There were many chairs and divans
> against the wall and at the end of the room was a big wicker chair which one
> knew at once was the Master's. Immediately the ladies came in they greeted us
> with the Greatest Name, they inquired about our health, our journey, about the
> believers in America. Rouhi Effendi translated for those who did not speak
> English. There were present the Holy Mother, the Greatest Holy Leaf, two of
> the daughters, Touba Khanoum and Rooha Khanoum; two or three young girls,
> granddaughters of the Master,--and Foad, the adorable four-year-old grandson,
> whose picture I had seen in Mr. Latimer's note-book.
> 
> The Holy Mother spoke about BAHA'ULLAH'S commands about education. The two
> daughters talked with us about the friends in America. Little Foad ran in and
> out on a very sturdy pair of legs. I cannot remember much of what was said.
> We knew that we were very welcome. We knew that we were at home as never
> before! I could not but try to realize that these were the women who
> had been for years prisoners in Acca, who had undergone unspeakable hardships
> 
> [page 166]
> 
> --these women with smiling faces who welcomed us so cordially.
> 
> After a time, how long I cannot tell,--someone came and announced dinner. The
> ladies said "good night," for they do not come to the table where the men
> pilgrims are. We were taken out into a big, big room, which had a long table
> down the center. Many men came filing in and seated themselves. There were
> probably twenty or thirty at the table. Later we learned that five religions,
> and six or seven nationalities were represented. Christians, Mohammedans,
> Buddhists, Zoroastrians, Jews--were met in love and unity at the table of our
> Master. Egyptian, Persian, Arab, Burmese, Japanese, American, Parsee,
> Turk,--and perhaps other nationalities were infinitely happy because they had
> found the joy that passeth understanding,--because they were the guests of
> Abdul-Baha! One does not remember words here, but the atmosphere of joy and
> peace is unforgettable.
> 
> As we were leaving the house, Rouhi Effendi, who had just come down from the
> mountain, brought word that the Master would either come down, or send for us
> the next day.
> 
> At the Pilgrim House we sat out on the porch in the moonlight and talked until
> almost ten o'clock,--and then went to our rooms to pass our first night in the
> Holy Land! I slept peacefully, and the night was all the more beautiful
> because I woke several times for a few minutes of happy realization that we
> were at last in Haifa,--in the "land of heart's desire!"
> 
> _______________
> 
> September 2, 1920
> 
> To waken in the Pilgrim House in Haifa is a very, very happy
> experience! From our west windows we could catch a glimpse of the Tomb of the
> Bab, and how eagerly we looked up at it, knowing that there the Master was
> dwelling; there was the memorial to the wonderful young herald of our Faith,
> the Supreme Bab.
> 
> Breakfast in the Pilgrim House comes at seven o'clock. It is a simple,
> friendly meal. The food consisted of tea, toast, poached eggs, honey and
> cheese. And the lovely companionship of the friends! There were the seven of
> us who slept in the House, and Said Effendi and Mirza Lotfullah always came in
> and had breakfast with us. Mirza Lotfullah came down from the mountain each
> morning bringing handfuls of jasmine blossoms from the garden of the Tomb, and
> these he strewed on the table. They were a lovely reminder of the spiritual
> fragrance of that spot!
> 
> After breakfast on that morning I was sitting in our room praying. Cora was
> writing at the table, the door into the living-room was open and the various
> sounds of the household drifted in to us. I was having a very happy time
> reading some of the prayers in the little prayer-book, and also in praying for
> the friends who were not there with us. I found myself bathed in a wonderful
> atmosphere of love and peace. It was like nothing I had ever experienced! It
> was not supernatural, in the sense of seeming queer or strange. It was simply
> an all-pervading peace and calm that seemed to fill my whole heart and spirit.
> I seemed to be at one with all the beauty and joy and light in the universe.
> Thus, I think, some ray of love from the Master's thought prepared me for
> meeting him that day.
> 
> At lunch Rouhi Effendi brought word that we were to go up to the Tomb at about
> four in the afternoon, to see the Master! After lunch we all went and rested
> for an hour and a half. That is part of the day's program always. At three
> o'clock came tea, another invariable occurrence.
> 
> As the hour drew near when we were to go up the "Mountain of the Lord," to
> meet Abdul-Baha, I remembered one evening we had spent with
> 
> [page 167]
> 
> Juliet Thompson not long before we had left New York. She had said with deep
> earnestness, "When you are in the Master's presence do not be self-conscious,
> if you can help it. Do not be afraid. There is nothing to fear. He is all
> love and kindness. Pray, pray, all the way on your journey, that your hearts
> may be freed from all self-consciousness. Go to him freely, gladly!"
> 
> I had tried to remember that, I had prayed for purity of heart that I might
> learn the lessons the Master will teach those who are ready to learn. And yet
> as we rode up the steep road toward the Tomb, there was a strange mixture of
> love and dread and longing in my heart. The way seemed very long! And yet it
> was very beautiful. We saw the valley of Acca, with the river Kishon winding
> through it down to the sea. Across the bay, Acca shone brightly in the
> afternoon sunlight,--that "White Spot," which so many, many pilgrims have
> sought because the Glory of God had lived there.
> 
> Finally we turned off from the main road, and the carriage drove down a steep
> incline toward the Mossafer Kaneh [musáfir-khánih],--the
> Persian Hospice for men. There we alighted and Mrs. Hoagg led us along a wide
> path, which is bordered with cypress trees on one side and with fig trees on
> the other. We passed the house of the care-taker, with the little room on top
> where the Master sometimes sleeps when He is on the mountain, and walked around
> to the front of the Tomb.
>
> — *A Week in Abdu'l-Baha's Home (Used by permission of the curator)*