XII
SPIRITUAL URGENCY

Men die in darkness at your side,
Without a hope to cheer the tomb;
Take up the torch and wave it wide,
The torch that lights time’s thickest gloom.
H. BONAR
THAT there was a sustaining power behind the leaders and many of the
first workers of the new mission is very manifest from the records of the
next few years. One cannot but be impressed by the urgency of spirit that
characterized them — a great, twofold urgency that carried them through
every kind of difficulty and trial. There was the urgency of love to the
Lord Jesus Christ that made them glory in their privilege of knowing Him
in the fellowship of His sufferings in a new and deeper way, and there was
in them the urgency of His constraining love for the souls of the perishing
by whom they were surrounded. It may seem old-fashioned in these days
to talk of souls, perishing souls, needing salvation. But the theology of
John 3:16 is a motive power that accomplishes results in and through
believers that all the wisdom and resources of the world cannot equal.
God so loved... that he gave his only begotten Son that whosoever
believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.
We may have more wealth in these days, better education, greater comfort
in traveling and in our surroundings even as missionaries, but have we the
spirit of urgency, the deep, inward convictions that moved those who
went before us; have we the same passion of love, personal love for the
Lord Jesus Christ? If these are lacking, it is a loss for which nothing can
compensate.
. . . . . .
Over the dark blue sea, over the trackless flood,
A little band is gone in the service of their God;
The lonely waste of waters they traverse to proclaim
In the distant land of Sinim, Immanuel’s saving Name.
They have heard from the far-off East the voice of their
brothers’ blood:
A million a month in China are dying without God.
No help have they but God: alone to their Father’s hand
They look for the supply of their wants in a distant land.
The fullness of the world is His; “all power” in earth and
heaven;
They are strong tho’ weak and rich tho’ poor, in the promise
He has given.
‘Tis enough! they hear the cry, the voice of their brothers’ blood:
A million a month in China are dying without God. 15
. . . . . .
Four months’ voyage on a sailing ship of less than eight hundred tons’
burden was no small undertaking, with a party of sixteen missionaries and
four young children. But much prayer had been made beforehand, not only
for safety by the way but for a crew to whom God would bless His Word.
One day was given to getting things in order in their cabins, and then
Chinese study commenced, Mr. Taylor taking a class in the morning and
Mrs. Taylor one in the afternoon. There were times when all the students
were down with seasickness, and the teachers had to do duty as steward
and stewardess. But they were good sailors, and the younger people soon
found their sea legs. How young they all were! their leader at thirty-four
being much the senior of the party.
At close quarters on that little sailing ship character was tested, and it was
easy for the crew to see how far these passengers lived up to their
profession. Needless to say they were keenly watched, at work and in
their hours of relaxation. Doing all they could to make the voyage pleasant
for the ship’s company, the missionaries prayed and waited. Then the
sailors themselves asked for meetings, and a work of God began which
resulted in the conversion of a large majority of the crew. It is a wonderful
record, as one reads it in letters written at the time, and makes it very
evident that the pioneers of the Mission were living for nothing less than
to win souls to Christ. They were not faultless, and one reads of failures
that hindered blessing. But these were not taken as a matter of course.
They were deplored and confessed with a sincerity which restored
fellowship in the Lord.
Then, unable to wreck the usefulness of the party, it seemed as though the
great adversary, “the prince of the power of the air,” determined to send
them ship and all to the bottom. It was nothing short of a miracle that they
ever reached their destination, for all the way up the China Sea they were
hard pressed by storm and tempest. For fifteen days the stress of one
typhoon after another was upon them, until they were almost a wreck.
The appearance of things was now truly terrific (Mr. Taylor wrote after
twelve days of this experience)... Rolling fearfully, the masts and yards
hanging down were tearing our only sail... and battering like a ram against
the main yard. The deck from forecastle to poop was one scarcely broken
sea. The roar of the water, the clanging of chains, the beating of the
dangling masts and yards, the sharp smack of the torn sails made it almost
impossible to hear any orders that might be given.
And for three days after that the danger only increased, as the ship was
making water fast. Fires were all out and cooking was impossible. For a
time no drinking water was obtainable, and the women as well as the men
worked at the pumps. But through it all prayer was so wonderfully
answered that no lives were lost or serious injuries sustained. Kept in the
peace which passes understanding, even the mother anxious for her
children was enabled, as she wrote, “to enter into Habakkuk’s experience
as never before — ‘Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of
my salvation’.”
No less wonderful were the answers to prayer a little later when the party
set out from Shanghai, all in Chinese dress, to seek a home inland.
Traveling by house-boats, the ladies and children could be sheltered from
curious crowds as city after city was passed, while efforts were being
made to find premises in which some of the young men might settle. But
only disappointment awaited them. Again and again when it seemed they
had succeeded, negotiations fell through and they had to move on, an
unbroken party, toward Hangchow. Two or three missionary families had
already taken up residence in that city, and it would have meant serious
risk to them as well as to the new arrivals if the coming of so large a party
stirred up opposition. Yet, what were they to do? Autumn was far
advanced and the nights on the water were bitterly cold. Several of the
party were more or less ill and the boat people were clamoring to go home
for the winter. Never had Mr. Taylor realized his responsibilities more
than when he left the boats in a quiet place outside the city and went
ahead to seek the accommodation so urgently needed.
Mrs. Taylor was feeling the situation no less keenly, as with quiet,
confident faith she gathered the younger missionaries for prayer, telling
them of the comfort that had come to her through the Psalm in her regular
reading that morning: “Who will bring me into the strong city? who will
lead me into Edom? Wilt not thou, O God?... Give us help from trouble;
for vain is the help of man.” Together they read it now, and the prayer
that followed changed an hour of painful suspense into one of fellowship
long to be remembered.
Could it be Mr. Taylor’s voice that stirred the boat people outside? Could
he be back so soon? And what tidings did he bring? “Before they call, I
will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear.” Yes, all was
well! A home was ready, waiting for them. One of the Hangchow
missionaries was absent for a week and had left word that his house,
comfortably furnished, was at the disposal of Mr. Taylor’s party.
Situated on a quiet street, it could be reached in the boats without
observation, and that very night the weary, thankful travelers were at rest
in the great city.
And within the next few days, in spite of all the usual difficulties, Mr.
Taylor was enabled to secure premises of their own — a large rambling
house which had once been a mandarin’s residence, but in course of time
had become a regular rabbit warren, occupied by a number of families. It
lent itself well to adaptation, and while the new owners were only in part
possession they were able to begin missionary work within their own
doors, without attracting too much attention. It does not need many words
for a loving heart to overflow, and Miss Faulding, the youngest of the
party, was already able to make herself understood by the women.
We have been getting the house a little more comfortable (she wrote in the
middle of December) though there is plenty still to be done. Mr. Taylor
and the young men have contrived paper ceilings fixed on wooden frames,
which keep out some of the cold air — for the upstairs rooms have roofs
such as you find in chapels at home. They also have papered some of the
partitions between the rooms. Of course we are as yet in confusion, but
we are getting on, and I hope shall be settled some day.
The lodgers are to leave next week. They occupy principally the ground
floor.... I am so glad for them to have been here, for many have come to
Chinese prayers and listened attentively. We could not have visited out of
doors yet,... but I read and talked with those women every day and they
seem to like it. One woman I have great hope of.
Before Christmas there were attentive audiences of fifty or sixty at the
Sunday services, and Mr. Taylor had made at least one evangelistic
journey. In the neighboring city of Siaoshan he and Mr. Meadows had
found excellent opportunities for preaching the Gospel and had been
enabled to rent a small house, with a view to settling out some of the new
arrivals as soon as possible. His letters to Mr. Berger show the spirit in
which they were facing their great task.
You will be glad to learn that facilities for sending letters by native post
and for transmitting money... to the interior are very good. I do not think
there will be any difficulty in remitting money to any province in the
empire which will not be easily overcome. In the same way, letters from
the most distant parts can be sent to the ports. Such communication is
slow and may prove rather expensive, but it is tolerably sure. Thus we see
the way opening before us for work in the interior.
It is pretty cold weather (Dec. 4) to be living in a house without any
ceilings and with very few walls and windows. There is a deficiency in the
wall of my own bedroom six feet by nine, closed in with a sheet, so that
ventilation is decidedly free. But we heed these things very little. Around
us are poor, dark heathen — large cities without any missionary, populous
towns without any missionary, villages without number, all without the
means of grace. I do not envy the state of mind that would forget these, or
leave them to perish, for fear of a little discomfort. May God make us
faithful to Him and to our work.
Meanwhile his hands were more than full in Hangchow. With the Chinese
New Year, patients crowded to the dispensary, as many as two hundred in
a day, and an equal number attended the Sunday services. When the first
reinforcements arrived from home, early in 1867, Mr. Taylor was too
busy to see anything of them until hours later. He was standing on a table
at the time, preaching to a crowd of patients in the courtyard, and could
only call out a hearty welcome as the party entered, escorted by Mr.
Meadows. The new arrivals were more than satisfied with this state of
affairs, and it was not long before John McCarthy was at Mr. Taylor’s
side, soon to become his chief helper in the medical work. Those were
days when, amid external hardships, his fellow-workers had the
opportunity of at any rate close association with the leader they loved,
who embodied to so large an extent their ideals.
I think of him as I ever knew him (Mr. McCarthy wrote from western
China thirty-eight years later), kind, loving, thoughtful of everyone but
himself, a blessing wherever he went and a strength and comfort to all with
whom he came in contact... a constant example of all that a missionary
ought to be.
Yet there were some, even in those early days who, through failure in their
own spiritual life, became critical of all around them. The spirit that had
caused trouble on the voyage was still in evidence, and Mrs. Taylor
suffered no less than her husband through the aspersions made. Not until
months later, however, did she mention the matter, even in writing to Mrs.
Berger, so anxious were they to conquer the trouble by love and patience.
It was in answer to inquiries from Saint Hill that she wrote at length:
Do pray for us very much, for we do so need God’s preserving grace at
the present time. We have come to fight Satan in his very strongholds, and
he will not let us alone. What folly were ours, were we here in our own
strength! But greater is He that is for us than all that are against us.... I
should be very sorry to see discord sown among the sisters of our party,
and this is one of the evils I am fearing now... What turn the N —— matter
will take I cannot think. One thing I know: “the hope of Israel” will not
forsake us. One is almost tempted to ask, “Why was N —— permitted to
come out?” Perhaps it was that our Mission might be thoroughly
established on right bases early in its history.
Sorrows of another kind were permitted to test faith and endurance as the
summer wore on, but all the while souls were being saved and the church
built up which numbers over fifteen hundred members today. When the
first baptisms came in May, Mrs. Taylor wrote again to Mrs. Berger:
Perhaps the dear Lord sees that we need sorrows to keep us from being
elated at the rich blessing He is giving in our work.
But she little anticipated the overwhelming personal sorrow the hot season
was to bring.
Sweetest and brightest of all their children was the little daughter given
them in Ningpo, who by this time was almost eight years old. Full of love
to the Lord Jesus and to the people around them, she was no little help in
the work as well as with her younger brothers, to whom she was all a
sister could be. But with the long hot days Gracie began to droop, and
though the children were taken to the hills nothing could save the little life.
Beside his dying child in the old, ruined temple, Mr. Taylor faced the
situation for himself and those he loved best.
It was no vain nor unintelligent act (he wrote to Mr. Berger) when,
knowing this land, its people and climate, I laid my wife and children with
myself on the altar for this service. And He whom so unworthy, yet in
simplicity and godly sincerity, we are and have been seeking to serve —
and with some measure of success — He has not left us now.
To his mother, Mr. Taylor wrote more freely.
Our dear little Gracie! How we miss her sweet voice in the morning, one of
the first sounds to greet us when we woke, and through the day and at
eventide! As I take the walks I used to take with her tripping figure at my
side, the thought comes anew like a throb of agony, “Is it possible that I
shall nevermore feel the pressure of that little hand... nevermore see the
sparkle of those bright eyes?” And yet she is not lost. I would not have
her back again. I am thankful she was taken, rather than any of the others,
though she was the sunshine of our lives....
I think I never saw anything so perfect, so beautiful as the remains of that
dear child. The long, silken eyelashes under the finely arched brows; the
nose, so delicately chiseled the mouth, small and sweetly expressive; the
purity of the white features... all are deeply impressed on heart and
memory. Then her sweet little Chinese jacket, and the little hands folded
on her bosom, holding a single flower — oh, it was passing fair, and so
hard to close forever from our sight!
Pray for us. At times I seem almost overwhelmed with the internal and
external trials connected with our work. But He has said, “I will never
leave thee, nor forsake thee,” and “My strength is made perfect in
weakness.” So be it.
In the sorrow of this bereavement Mr. and Mrs. Taylor consecrated
themselves afresh to the task of reaching inland China with the Gospel.
Before the close of the year all the prefectural cities in Chekiang had been
visited. Nanking in the neighboring province had been occupied, and the
members of the Mission were working in centers as much as twenty-four
days’ journey apart. The church also in Hangchow was well established
with Wang Lae-djun as its pastoral 16 and as spring came again it was
possible for the leaders of the Mission to be spared from that center.
Those were days when scarcely a station in China was opened without
danger to life itself. Riots were so usual that they seemed almost part of
the proceedings, and it was natural for Mr. Taylor to say to a candidate
who had lost a limb and could only walk with the help of a crutch,
“But what would you do in China if a riot broke out and you had to run
away?”
“I had not considered running away,” was the quiet answer. “I thought
that ‘the lame’ were to ‘take the prey’”
And this he did, in actual fact, when the time came and he had the privilege
of living down the troubles through which the Gospel came to Wenchow.
“Why don’t you run away,” yelled the rioters who were robbing him of
everything and had taken even his crutches.
“Run away!” he replied with a smile. “How can a man run with only one
leg, I should like to know!”
Disarmed by his courage and friendliness, the better element prevailed, and
the unseen power of prayer won the day. 17
In the same spirit George Duncan, the tall, quiet Highlander, made his way
in Nanking as the first resident missionary. Content to live in the Drum
Tower, when he could get no other lodging, he shared an open loft with the
rats and the deep-toned bell, spending his days amid the crowds in street
and tea shop. When his supply of money was running low, his Chinese
cook and only companion came to ask what they should do — as to leave
the city and the little place they had rented would probably mean no
possibility of return.
“Do?” said the missionary. “Why, we shall ‘trust in the Lord, and do
good.’ So shall we ‘dwell in the land’ and verily we shall be fed.”
Days went on, and Mr. Taylor found himself unable to reach Nanking by
native banks. Finally, in his anxiety for Duncan, he sent a
brother-missionary to relieve the situation. By this time the cook’s
savings, willingly given to the work, were all used up, and between them
they had not a dollar left. But Duncan had gone out to his preaching as
usual, saying to his anxious companion:
“Let us just ‘trust in the Lord and do good.’ His promise is still the same,
‘So shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed’.”
That evening Rudland understood why the water in the Grand Canal had
run so low that he had been obliged to finish his journey overland, for it
brought him to Nanking several days earlier than would have been possible
by boat. When he reached the house it was to find cupboard and purse
alike empty. Tramping the endless streets Duncan had preached all day
and was returning tired and hungry when, to his surprise, he saw his
Chinese helper running to meet him.
“Oh sir,” he cried breathlessly, “it’s all right! It’s all right! Mr. Rudland —
the money — a good supper!”
“Did I not tell you this morning,” Duncan replied, laying a kindly hand on
his shoulder, “that it is always ‘all right’ to trust in the living God?”
But Mr. Taylor was not content with getting the young men out into
pioneering work. There were no dangers or hardships which he and Mrs.
Taylor themselves were not ready to face, and the inward, spiritual urge
was at least as strong in their hearts as in others in the Mission. It was not
easy to leave Hangchow after sixteen months of settled life and work. The
church already numbered fifty baptized believers, and many of the
inquirers were full of promise. But with Wang Lae-djun as pastor, assisted
by Mr. McCarthy, and with Miss Faulding caring for the women the good
work would go on. There were lonely pioneers needing help, and teeming
cities, towns and villages entirely without the Word of Life. Though it
meant breaking up their home and taking the children to live on boats for a
time, they set out in the spring, as we have seen, ready to join Duncan at
Nanking, or to stay in any place that might open to them en route.
It was in the great city of Yangchow the travelers were enabled to settle
after two months of boat life. They had spent three weeks with Mr.
Henry Cordon, a member of the Mission who was just commencing work
in the far-famed city of Soochow, and had come on to Chinkiang at the
junction of the Grand Canal with the mighty Yangtze. Impressed with the
strategic importance of this place, Mr. Taylor was soon in treaty for
premises which they subsequently obtained, and finding that the
negotiations were likely to be prolonged they continued their journey
across the Yangtze and a few miles up the northern section of the Grand
Canal. Thus the famous city of which Marco Polo had once been governor
was reached, its turreted walls enclosing a population of three hundred and
sixty thousand, without any witness for Christ.
Were it not that you yourselves are old travelers (Mrs. Taylor wrote to
Mrs. Berger) I should think it impossible for you to realize our feelings
last Monday week, when we exchanged the discomfort of a boat into
every room of which the heavy rain had been leaking, for a suite of
apartments in a first-rate Chinese hotel — such a place as my husband,
who has seen a good deal of Chinese travelers accommodations, never
before met with — and that hotel, too, inside the city of Yangchow.
A friendly innkeeper and crowds of interested visitors promised well at
the beginning, and after a favorable proclamation from the governor had
appeared, a house was obtained into which the family moved in the middle
of July. The heat was already trying, and they were hoping for quieter
days in August, but the rush of patients and visitors continued. The
attraction of a foreign family in the city was considerable, especially as
Mr. Taylor proved to be a skillful physician. Mrs. Taylor’s pleasing
Chinese speech and manners attracted the women, and just as in
Hangchow, hearts seemed opening to the Gospel.
But the enemy was busy. It could not be that such an advance into his
territory should be unchallenged. The literati of the city held a meeting and
decided to stir up trouble. Anonymous handbills appeared all over the
city, attributing the most revolting crimes to foreigners, especially those
whose business it was to propagate “the religion of Jesus.” Before long the
missionaries realized that a change was coming over the attitude of the
people. Friendly visitors gave place to crowds of the lowest rabble about
the door, and a fresh set of posters added fuel to the flame. By patience
and kindliness rioting was averted again and again — Mr. Taylor hardly
daring to leave the entrance to the premises for several days, where he was
answering questions and keeping the crowds in order.
Great was the thankfulness of the household, augmented by the arrival of
the Rudlands and Mr. Duncan, when the storm seemed to have spent
itself. The intense heat of August was broken by torrential rains which
efficiently scattered the crowds. But the relief was short-lived. Two
foreigners from Chinkiang, wearing not the Chinese dress adopted by the
missionaries, but undisguised foreign clothing, came up to visit Yangchow
and caused no little sensation. This was too good a chance to be lost. The
literati were again busy, and no sooner had the visitors left with the
impression that all was quiet, than reports began to be circulated that
children were missing in all directions. Twenty-four at least, so the people
believed, had fallen a prey to the inhuman foreigners.
“Courage — avenge our wrongs! Attack! Destroy! Much loot shall be
ours!”
Forty-eight hours later, in a boat nearing Chinkiang, wounded, suffering
but undismayed, the missionary party were thanking God for His
marvelous protection in the storm of murderous passions that had almost
overwhelmed them.
Our God has brought us through (Mrs. Taylor wrote as they traveled),
may it be to live henceforth more fully to His praise and glory. We have
had another typhoon, so to speak, not as prolonged as the literal one,
nearly two years ago, but at least equally dangerous to our lives and more
terrible while it lasted.
I believe God will bring His own glory out of this experience, and I hope it
will tend to the furtherance of the Gospel....
Yours in a present Savior...
“A present Savior” — how little could the rioters have understood the
secret of such calmness and strength! Awed by something, they knew not
what, the raging mob had been restrained from the worst deeds of violence.
Death, though imminent, had been averted again and again, and both Mr.
Taylor, exposed to all the fury of the crowds on his way to seek the help
of local authorities, and those he had had to leave, who faced the perils of
attack and fire in their besieged dwelling, were alike protected by the
Unseen Hand.
But they were hours of anguish — anguish for the mother as she sheltered
the children and women of the party in an upper room, from which they
were driven at last by fire; anguish for the father, detained at a distance,
hearing from the mandarin’s yamen the yells of the rioters bent on
destruction. Outwardly as calm as if there were no danger, Mrs. Taylor
faced those terrible scenes, more than once saving life by her presence of
mind and perfect command of the language, her heart meanwhile torn with
anxiety for the loved one they might never see again.
Long and trying were the negotiations that followed, before the Yangchow
house was repaired and the party permitted to return. Quite a function
was arranged for their reception, and it was with thankfulness the leader of
the Mission was able to write: “The results of this case will in all
probability greatly facilitate work in the interior.” But it was the family
life and friendly spirit of the missionaries that gradually disarmed
suspicion. “Actions speak louder than words,” and neighbors had
something to think over when the children were brought back after all that
had happened, and when it appeared that Mrs. Taylor had not hesitated to
return under conditions which made peace and quietness specially
desirable.
In this again (she wrote to her beloved friend at Saint Hill) God has given
me the desire of my heart. For I felt that if safety to my infant permitted
it, I would rather it were born in this city, in this house, in this very room
than in any other place — your own beautiful home not excepted, in
which I have been so tenderly cared for, and the comforts and luxuries of
which I know so well how to appreciate.
The arrival of a fourth son could not but make a favorable impression, as
did the speedy recovery of all who had been injured in the riot. But far
deeper was the compensation of finding that the inn-keeper who had first
received them in the city, and two others who had dared much to befriend
them during the riot, were now confessed believers in Christ and
candidates for baptism.
“He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless
come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.”