II
SOUL-GROWTH IN EARLY YEARS

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace.
H. LEMMEL.
THE beginning of it all was a quiet hour among his father’s books, when
young Hudson Taylor sought something to interest him. His mother was
away from home and the boy was missing her. The house seemed empty,
so he took the story he found to a favorite corner in the old warehouse,
thinking he would read it as long as it did not get prosy.
Many miles away, the mother was specially burdened that Saturday
afternoon about her only son. Leaving her friends she went alone to plead
with God for his salvation. Hour after hour passed while that mother was
still upon her knees, until her heart was flooded with a joyful assurance
that her prayers were heard and answered.
The boy was reading, meanwhile, the booklet he had picked up, and as the
story merged into something more serious he was arrested by the words:
“The finished work of Christ.” Who can explain the mystery of the Holy
Spirit’s working? Truth long familiar, though neglected, came back to mind
and heart.
“Why does the writer use those words?” he questioned. “Why does he not
say, ‘the atoning or propitiatory work of Christ’?”
Immediately, “It is finished” shone out as in letters of light. Finished?
What was finished?
“A full and perfect atonement for sin,” his heart replied. “The debt was
paid by the great Substitute. ‘Christ died for our sins,’ and ‘not for ours
only, but also for the sins of the whole world.’”
Then came the thought with startling clearness, “If the whole work is
finished, the whole debt paid, what is there left for me to do?”
The one, the only answer took possession of his soul: “There was nothing
in the world for me to do save to fall upon my knees and accepting this
Savior and His salvation to praise Him for ever more.”
Old doubts and fears were gone. The reality of the wonderful experience
we call conversion filled him with peace and joy. New life came with that
simple acceptance of the Lord Jesus Christ, for to “as many as received
him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God.” And great was
the change that new life brought.
Longing to share his newfound joy with his mother, he was the first to
welcome her on her return.
“I know, my boy, I know,” she said with her arms about him. “I have been
rejoicing for a fortnight in the glad news you have to tell.”
Another surprise awaited him not long after, when, picking up a notebook
he thought was his own, he found an entry in his sister’s writing to the
effect that she would give herself daily to prayer until God should answer
in the conversion of her only brother. The young girl had recorded this
decision just a month previously.
Brought up in such a circle (Hudson Taylor wrote) and saved under such
circumstances, it was perhaps natural that from the very commencement
of my Christian life I was led to feel that the promises of the Bible are
very real, and that prayer is in sober fact transacting business with God,
whether on one’s own behalf or on behalf of those for whom one seeks
His blessing.
The brother and sister were now one in a new way, and young though
they were, for he was only seventeen, they began to do all they could to
win others to Christ. This was the secret of the rapid growth which
followed in spiritual things. They entered from the very first into the
Lord’s own yearning of heart over the lost and perishing. Not “social
service,” but living for others with a supreme concern for their soul’s
salvation was the line on which they were led out. And this not with any
sense of superiority, but simply from a deep, personal love to the Lord
Jesus Christ.
It was that love that as the days went on made it such a keen distress to
fail in the old ways and lose the joy of His conscious presence. For there
were ups and downs as with most young Christians, and neglect of prayer
and of feeding on God’s Word always brings coldness of heart. But the
outstanding thing about Hudson Taylor’s early experience was that he
could not be satisfied with anything less than the best, God’s best — the
real and constant enjoyment of His presence. To go without this was to
live without sunlight, to work without power. That he knew the joy of the
Lord in those early days is evident from recollections such as the
following. A leisure afternoon had brought opportunity for prayer, and
moved by deep longings he sought his room to be alone with God.
Well do I remember how in the gladness of my heart I poured out my soul
before God. Again and again confessing my grateful love to Him who had
done everything for me, who had saved me when I had given up all hope
and even desire for salvation, I besought Him to give me some work to do
for Him as an outlet for love and gratitude....
Well do I remember as I put myself, my life, my friends, my all upon the
altar, the deep solemnity that came over my soul with the assurance that
my offering was accepted. The presence of God became unutterably real
and blessed, and I remember... stretching myself on the ground and lying
there before Him with unspeakable awe and unspeakable joy. For what
service I was accepted I knew not, but a deep consciousness that I was not
my own took possession of me which has never since been effaced.
If we think that boys or girls in their teens are too young for such soul
experiences, we are indeed mistaken. At no time in life is there greater
capacity for devotion, if the heart’s deepest springs are open to the love of
Christ.