VIII
JOY OF HARVEST

Sheaves after sowing, sun after rain,
Sight after mystery, peace after pain.
F. R. HAVERGAL
ONLY two and a half years remained of Hudson Taylor’s first period of
service in China, but they were rich, full years. The little house on Bridge
Street was now home indeed. Downstairs, the chapel and guest hall
remained the same, and the Christians and inquirers came and went freely,
but upstairs one could hardly recognize the barn like attic in the cheery
little rooms whose curtained windows looked out on the narrow street in
front and the canal behind. And what a difference it made that the women
and children could be cared for equally with the men! Mrs. Taylor, already
well known in the neighborhood, was now more than ever welcome as she
went visiting, and since “all the world loves a lover” the attraction of those
united hearts was widely felt.
One of their warmest friends and helpers was the ex-Buddhist leader, who
was a cotton merchant in the city. This Mr. Ni, though long resident in
Ningpo, had never come in contact with the Gospel. He was deeply
earnest, and as president of an idolatrous society spent much time and
money in the service of “the gods.” But his heart was not at rest, and the
more he followed his round of religious observances the more empty he
found them to be.
Passing an open door on the street one evening, he noticed that something
was going on. A bell was being rung and people were assembling as if for a
meeting. Learning that it was a hall for the discussion of religious matters
he too went in, for there was nothing about which he was more concerned
than the penalties due to sin and the transmigration of the soul on its
unknown way. A young foreigner in Chinese dress was preaching from his
Sacred Classics. He was at home in the Ningpo dialect and Mr. Ni could
understand every word of the passage he read. But what could be its
meaning?
As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of
man be lifted up.... For God so loved the world, that he gave his only
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have
everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the
world; but that the world through him might be saved.
Saved, not condemned; a way to find everlasting life; a God who loved the
world; a serpent, no, a “Son of man” lifted up — what could it all be
about? To say that Ni was interested scarcely begins to express what went
on in his mind. The story of the brazen serpent in the wilderness,
illustrating the divine remedy for sin and its deadly consequences; the life,
death and resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ; the bearing of all this upon
his own needs, brought home to him in the power of the Spirit — well, it
is the miracle of the ages, and thank God, we see it still! “I, if I be lifted
up, will draw all men unto me.”
But the meeting was coming to a close. The foreign teacher had ceased
speaking. With the instinct of one accustomed to lead in such matters, Ni
rose in his place, and looking round on the audience said with simple
directness:
“I have long sought the Truth, but without finding it. I have traveled far
and near, but have never searched it out. In Confucianism, Buddhism,
Taoism, I have found no rest. But I do find rest in what we have heard
tonight. Henceforth I am a believer in Jesus.”
He became an ardent student of the Bible and his growth in knowledge and
grace was wonderful. Not long after his conversion, he obtained
permission to address a meeting of the society over which he had formerly
presided, and Mr. Taylor who accompanied him was deeply impressed by
the clearness and fullness with which he set forth the Gospel. One of his
former followers was led to Christ through his testimony, and Ni began to
know the joy of the soul winner.
He it was who, talking with his missionary friend, unexpectedly raised the
question: “How long have you had the Glad Tidings in your country?”
“Some hundreds of years,” was the reluctant reply.
“What! hundreds of years?”
“My father sought the Truth,” he continued sadly, “and died without
finding it. Oh why did you not come sooner?”
It was a moment, the pain of which Hudson Taylor could never forget, and
which deepened his earnestness in seeking to bring Christ to those who
might still be reached.
Great was the need of patience, in those days, not to run before the Spirit
of God in the matter of engaging full-time helpers in the work. For as yet
the young missionaries had no regular Chinese associates. Mr. Ni was
eagerly devoting all the time he could spare from his business, and so were
Neng-kuei the basket-maker, Wang the farmer of Hosi, and Tsiu the
teacher with his warm-hearted mother. But they and others were all
occupied in their necessary avocations through the day, though they drew
to the mission house in the evening and spent much time there on
Sundays. It would have been easy to employ the Christian teacher in the
school to which Mrs. Taylor was giving many hours daily, or to take on
others at a modest salary to train them for positions of usefulness. But
this, the missionaries realized, would have proved a hindrance in the long
run rather than a help. To pay young converts, however sincere, for
making known the Gospel — and to pay them with money from foreign
sources — must inevitably weaken their influence if not their Christian
character. The time might come when their call of God to such work would
be evident to all, and when the Christians themselves would be ready to
support them. How was China ever to be evangelized but by the Chinese
Church? And how were the converts ever to know the joy of unpaid,
voluntary service, from love to the Lord Jesus Christ, unless the
missionaries could be patient and wait for spiritual developments?
So it was a full life that Hudson Taylor and his colleagues led, while the
young converts were growing up around them. For he was doing not a
little medical work in addition to preaching on the streets and in the
chapel, receiving visitors, attending to correspondence and accounts, and
keeping up evangelistic excursions. But nothing was allowed to interfere
with the main business in hand — that of daily helpful intercourse with
the Christians and inquirers.
Little wonder, with such love and care lavished upon them, that the
converts grew in grace and in knowledge of the things of God. Evening by
evening the missionaries would be at their disposal, and after the regular
public meeting, three periods were given to carefully prepared study. To
begin with, a lesson was taken from the Old Testament, when Hudson
Taylor delighted to unfold its spiritual teaching. Then, after an interval, a
chapter was read in Pilgrims Progress or some other helpful book. And
finally a passage from the New Testament was talked over and applied to
practical life. This was the regular order every night, leading up to Sunday
with its special services for worship and for reaching outsiders.
And Sunday had its teaching periods too. It cost the Christians not a little
to close shop and store, sacrificing as far as their business affairs were
concerned one day in seven. Yet Hudson Taylor and his colleagues knew
that no strong, self-propagating church can be built up on any other basis.
They determined therefore to do their utmost to make the sacrifice
worthwhile, by filling the hours thus given to God with helpful and joyous
occupation. Between the regular services, Christians, inquirers, patients,
schoolchildren and servants were divided into classes and taught in a bright
personal way. This made Sunday a heavy day for the missionaries, for
there were only four of them; but if it cost some toil and weariness, they
were the better able to appreciate the sacrifices made by the converts.
Some had to walk long distances and go without food the greater part of
the day, and others had to face persecution and personal loss. But they
were willing, most of them, for all it involved, if only they could have the
Lord’s day for worship, for they were conscious of the difference it made
all through the week.
So the church was growing and the missionaries were developing, and
opportunities for service were enlarging before them. The Treaty of
Tientsin, signed in the summer after Hudson Taylor’s marriage, had
opened the way at last to all the inland provinces. Foreigners had now the
right to travel freely, under the protection of passports, and it only
remained to make use of the facilities for which they had prayed so long.
You will have heard before this all about the new treaty (Mr. Taylor wrote
in November). We may be losing some of our Ningpo missionaries... who
will go inland. And oh, will not the Church at home awaken and send us
out many more to publish the Glad Tidings?
Many of us long to go — oh, how we long to go! But there are duties and
ties that bind us that none but the Lord can unloose. May He give “gifts”
to many of the native Christians, qualifying them...for the care of churches
already formed,... and thus set us free for pioneering work.
This was the burden on their hearts — to raise up, by the blessing of God,
a church that should be self-propagating as well as self-supporting — and
the claim of the little band of believers who still needed them as parents in
the Lord could not be set aside. It was to their love, their prayers, these
souls had been committed, and to leave them now, even for the good of
others, would have been to disregard the highest of all trusts, parental
responsibility. And they were right in this conviction, as the sequel
abundantly proved.
For these Christians, Ni, Neng-kuei, Wang and the rest, were men whom
God could use. Poor and unlearned as most of them were, they too were to
become “fishers of men.” No fewer than six or seven of these early
converts were to come to the help of their beloved leader in the formative
years of the China Inland Mission. But for their cooperation, the new
project, humanly speaking, could never have been realized. It would be
difficult to overestimate all that grew out of the intensive work at Bridge
Street at this time. For what the missionaries were themselves, this to a
large extent their children in the faith became, and there is no better, surer
way of passing on spiritual blessing.
In the midst of all this joy of harvest, a great and unexpected sorrow called
Hudson Taylor to new responsibilities. Over in the Settlement, Dr. Parker
had recently completed his new hospital. Splendidly situated near one of
the city gates and overlooking the river, its commodious buildings attracted
the notice of thousands daily. Everything about the place was admirably
adapted to the needs of the work built up through patient years. But in the
doctor’s home were stricken hearts, for the brave man who had overcome
so many difficulties was mourning the loss of his wife, who after only a
few hours’ illness had passed away, leaving four young children. One of
them was seriously ill, and the doctor realized that he must take them
home to Scotland. But what about the hospital? The wards were full of
patients and the dispensary was crowded day by day with a stream of
people needing help. No other doctor was free to take his place, and yet to
close down with the winter coming on seemed unthinkable. Though there
were no funds to leave for the work — for it was supported from the
proceeds of his private practice — perhaps his former colleague, Hudson
Taylor, could carry on the dispensary at any rate. So the unexpected
proposition was put before him.
After waiting upon the Lord for guidance (Mr. Taylor recalled) I felt
constrained to undertake not only the dispensary but the hospital as well,
relying solely on the faithfulness of a prayer-hearing God to furnish means
for its support.
At times there were no fewer than fifty in-patients, besides a large number
who attended the dispensary. Thirty beds were ordinarily allotted to free
patients and their attendants, and about as many more to opium smokers
who paid their board while being cured of the habit. As all the wants of the
sick in the wards were supplied gratuitously, as well as the medical
supplies needed for the out-patient department, the daily expenses were
considerable. Hospital attendants also were required, involving their
support. The funds for the maintenance of all this had hitherto been
supplied by the doctor’s foreign practice, and with his departure this
source of income ceased. But had not God said that whatever we ask in the
name of the Lord Jesus shall be done? And are we not told to seek first the
kingdom of God — not means to advance it — and that “all these things”
shall be added to us? Such promises were surely sufficient.
It did not matter to the young missionaries that the situation was over
looked for; that none of their friends at home could have foreseen it; and
that months must go by before there could be any response to letters.
Were not they themselves looking to the Lord only for support, and had
He ever failed them? The secret of faith that is ready for emergencies is the
quiet, practical dependence upon God day by day which makes Him real
to the believing heart.
Eight days before entering upon the care of the Ningpo hospital (wrote
Mr. Taylor) I had not the remotest idea of ever doing so; still less could
friends at home have foreseen the need. But the Lord had anticipated it, as
events were fully to prove.
When the assistants left by Dr. Parker learned of the changed conditions,
and that there were only funds in hand for the expenses of the current
month, after which prayer would be the only resource, they not
unnaturally decided to withdraw and open the way for other workers. It
was a change Parker had long desired to make, only he had not known how
to obtain helpers of a different sort. Hudson Taylor did know, and with a
lightened heart he turned to the little circle that did not fail him. For to the
Bridge Street Christians it seemed quite as natural to trust the Lord for
temporal blessings as for spiritual. Did not the greater include the less; and
was He not, as their “teacher” so often reminded them, a real Father, who
never could forget His children’s needs? So to the hospital they came, glad
not only to strengthen the hands of their missionary friends but to prove
afresh to themselves and all concerned the faithfulness of God. Some
worked in one way and some in another; some giving what time they could
spare, and others giving their whole time without promise of wages,
though receiving their support. And all took the hospital and its concerns
on their hearts in prayer.
No wonder a new atmosphere began to permeate dispensary and wards.
Account for it the patients could not — at any rate at first — but they
enjoyed none the less the happy, homelike feeling, and the zest with
which everything was carried on. The days were full of a new interest. For
these attendants — Wang the grass-cutter and Wang the painter, Ni,
Neng-kuei and others — seemed to possess the secret of perpetual
happiness, and had so much to impart. Not only were they kind and
considerate in the work of the wards, but all their spare time was given to
telling of One who had transformed life for them and who, they said, was
ready to receive all who came to Him for rest. Then there were books,
pictures and singing. Everything indeed seemed set to song! And the daily
meetings in the chapel only made one long for more.
There are few secrets in China, and the financial basis upon which the
hospital was now run was not one of them. Soon the patients knew all
about it, and were watching eagerly for the outcome. This too was
something to think and talk about; and as the money left by Dr. Parker
was used up and Hudson Taylor’s own supplies ran low, many were the
conjectures as to what would happen next. Needless to say that alone and
with his little band of helpers Hudson Taylor was much in prayer at this
time. It was perhaps a more open and in that sense more crucial test than
any that had come to him, and he realized that the faith of not a few was at
stake as well as the continuance of the hospital work. But day after day
went by without bringing the expected answer.
At length one morning Kuei-hua the cook7 appeared with serious news for
his master. The very last bag of rice had been opened, and was
disappearing rapidly.
“Then,” replied Hudson Taylor, “the Lord’s time for helping us must be
close at hand.”
And so it proved. For before that bag of rice was finished a letter reached
the young missionary that was among the most remarkable he ever
received.
It was from Mr. Berger, and contained a check for fifty pounds, like others
that had come before. Only in this case the letter went on to say that a
heavy burden had come upon the writer, the burden of wealth to use for
God. Mr. Berger’s father had recently passed away, leaving him a
considerable increase of fortune. The son did not wish to enlarge his
personal expenditure. He had had enough before and was now praying to
be guided as to the Lord’s purpose in what had taken place. Could his
friends in China help him? The draft enclosed was for immediate needs,
and would they write fully, after praying over the matter, if there were
ways in which they could profitably use more.
Fifty pounds! There it lay on the table; and his far-off friend, knowing
nothing about that last bag of rice or the many needs of the hospital,
actually asked if he might send them more. No wonder Hudson Taylor
was overwhelmed with thankfulness and awe. Suppose he had held back
from taking charge of the hospital on account of lack of means, or lack of
faith rather? Lack of faith — with such promises and such a God!
There was no Salvation Army in those days, but the praise meeting held in
the chapel fairly anticipated it in its songs and shouts of joy. But unlike
some Army meetings it had to be a short one, for were there not the
patients in the wards? And how they listened — those men and women
who had known nothing all their lives but blank, empty heathenish.
“Where is the idol that can do anything like that?” was the question upon
many lips and hearts. “Have they ever delivered us in our troubles, or
answered prayer after this sort?”