Ebenezer and Jehovah Jireh (1856-1858)
Life turns at times on a small pivot. ‘It is interesting to notice,’ wrote Hudson Taylor years later, “the various events which united in the providence of God in preventing my return to Swatow and ultimately led to my settling in Ningpo.’ How could he know that the upset of all his plans and the severance of a partnership in service more precious than any he had ever known was to prove the crowning blessing of his life on the human side, bringing him into association and at last union with the one of all others most suited both to him and his work?
Yet so it proved. God’s hand was on the helm. The closed door was as much His providence as the open, and equally—for the good of His servant, and the accomplishment of His own great ends.
Maria Dyer’s was a deep and tender nature. Lonely from childhood, she had grown up longing for a real heartfriend. Her father she could hardly remember, and from the mother whom she devotedly loved she was parted by death at ten years of age, just as she and her brother and sister were leaving Penang to complete their education. After this the doubly-orphaned children had been brought up under the care of an uncle in London, most of their time being spent at school.
Then came the call to China, basa Miss Aldersey’s need of a helper in the Ningpo school. In offering for this post, the sisters were influenced not so much by a desire to take up missionary work as by the knowledge that it was what their parents would have desired. Young as they were they had had some training as teachers, and as they were self-supporting and did not wish to be separated Miss Aldersey invited both to join her instead of only one.
To the younger sister the voyage to China was memorable as the time of her definite entrance into peace with God. Previously she had striven to be a Christian in her own strength, feeling all the while that she lacked the ‘one thing needful’ and seeking vainly to obtain it. Now her thoughts were turned to Christ and His atoning work as the only ground of pardon and acceptance; the all-sufficient ground to which our prayers and efforts can add nothing at all. Gradually it dawned upon her that she was redeemed, pardoned, cleansed from sin, because He had suffered in her stead. God had ‘accepted Christ as her substitute and saviour, and she could do no less. Simply and trustfully as a little child she turned away from everything and everyone else, content to take God at His word. ‘There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus,’ and to prove that ‘The Spirit himself beareth witness with our spirit that we are’ here and now ‘the children of God’.
This true conversion with all that flowed from it made her entrance upon missionary work very different from what it would otherwise have been. No longer a philanthropic undertaking to which she devoted herself out of regard for her parents’ wishes, it had become the natural and even necessary expression of her great and growing love to Him who was her Saviour, Lord and King. He had changed everything for her, for time and for eternity, and the least she could do was to give herself entirely to His service. So with a peace and joy unknown before she took up her busy and often difficult life in Miss Aldersey’s school.
‘It was a model institution,’ wrote Dr. W. A. P. Martin, who later became the first President of the Peking University. ‘For three years at Miss Aldersey’s request I ministered to the church in her house, and I cherish a vivid impression of the energy displayed by that excellent woman, notwithstanding a feeble frame and frequent ailments. The impression she made on the Chinese, whether Christian or pagan, was profound, the latter firmly believing that as England was ruled by a woman so Miss Aldersey had been delegated to be the head of our foreign community. The British Consul, they said, invariably obeyed her commands.
‘Several shocks of earthquake having alarmed the people, they imputed the disturbance to Miss Aldersey’s magic power, alleging that they had seen her mount the city wall before dawn of day, and open a bottle in which she kept confined certain strong spirits which proceeded to shake the pillars of the earth.
“No wonder they thought so! Her strange habits could not but suggest something uncanny. The year round she was accustomed to walk on the city wall at five o’clock in the morning, and with such undeviating punctuality that in winter she was preceded by a man bearing a lantern. A bottle she carried in her hand did really contain “strong spirits”, spirits of-hartshorn, which she constantly used to relieve headache and as an antidote for ill odours. In summer, unwilling to leave her school for the seaside, she would climb to the ninth storey of a lofty pagoda and sit there through the long hours of the afternoon, sniffing the wind that came from the sea. At such times she was always accompanied by some of her pupils, so that her work was not for a moment suspended. So parsimonious was she of time that she even had them read to her while she was taking her meals.
‘T can truly say that in the long list of devoted women who have laboured in and for China, I know no nobler name than hers.’
But it was an exacting post for a girl in her teens, and especially one of so loving a spirit as Maria Dyer. Her sister’s companionship she had, certainly, and the missionary circle in Ningpo gave her several friends. But her heart had never found its mate in the things that mattered most.
And then he came—the young missionary who impressed her from the first as having the same longings after holiness, usefulness, nearness to God. He was different from everybody else; there was a something about him that made her feel at rest and understood. He seemed to live in such a real world, and to have such a real, great God. Though she saw little of him, it was a comfort to know that he was near, and she was startled to find how much she missed him when after only seven weeks he went away.
Very real was her joy, therefore, as well as surprise, when from Shanghai he had to turn back again. Perhaps it was this that opened her eyes to the feeling with which she was beginning to regard him. At any rate, she soon knew, and with her sweet, true nature did not try to hide it from her own heart and God. There was no one else to whom she cared to speak about him; for others did not see in him, always, just what she saw. They disliked his wearing Chinese dress, and did not approve his making himself so entirely one with the people. So she prayed much though she showed little. The love of her life had come to her, and nobody knew but God.
Meanwhile, a little missionary family had come to live in Ningpo, in the southern part of the city where Miss Aldersey’s school was situated. Mr. and Mrs. Jones had come out under the Chinese Evangelisation Society some months previously, but had been detained at Hong Kong by serious illness, and by the death of their eldest child. They had already suffered much for the land to which their lives were given, and when they reached Ningpo, in June 1857, Maria Dyer laid herself out to be useful to the busy mother. As often as possible they went visiting together, for young as she was, and much occupied with her school classes, the young missionary could not be satisfied with anything less than soul-winning.
‘That was what drew out my interest,’ said Hudson Taylor long after. “She was spiritually minded, as her work proved. Even then she was a true missionary.’
For it could not but be that the young Englishman should meet Maria Dyer from time to time at the house of his friends, and it could not but be also that he should be attracted. She was so frank and natural that they were soon on terms of good acquaintance, and then she proved so like-minded in all important ways that, unconsciously almost to himself, she began to fill a place in his heart never filled before.
Vainly he strove against the longing to see more of her, and did his utmost to banish her image from his mind. He was deeply conscious of his call to labour in the interior, and felt that for such work he should be free from claims of wife and home. Besides, all was uncertain before him. In a few weeks or months the way might open for his return to Swatow. Was he not waiting daily upon the Lord for guidance, with the needs of that region still in view? And if it were not to be southern China, it was his hope and purpose to undertake pioneering work nearer at hand, work that might at any time cost his life. No, it was not for him to cherish thoughts such as would rise unbidden as he looked into the face he loved.
What right had he to think of marriage, without a home, income, or prospect of any that he could ask her to share? Accredited agent of the C.E.S. though he was, it did not at all follow that they were to be depended upon for financial supplies. For months he had not drawn upon his Letter of Credit, knowing the Society to be in debt. Chiefly through the ministry of Mr. Berger, the Lord had supplied his needs. But this might not continue. It could not at any rate be counted on. And what would she say, and those responsible for her, to a life of faith in China, faith even for daily bread?
Yes, it was perfectly clear: he was in no position to think of marriage, and must subdue the heart-hunger that threatened at times to overwhelm him. And to a certain extent he was helped in turning his thoughts to other matters by events transpiring in the south.
For fourteen uneasy years England had been pressing China, by every argument that could be devised, to legalise the importation of opium. In spite of the refusal of the Emperor Tao-kwang to admit at any price ‘the flowing poison,’ the smuggling trade had gone on growing in defiance of treaty rights. Since the conclusion of England’s first war with China, justly called ‘The Opium War,’ there had long been an inclination in certain quarters to bring ona second, and now a tiny spark had been fanned into a blaze.
Notwithstanding the condemning voice of a large majority in the British Parliament, the two countries were at war, with British guns thundering at the gates of Canton.
In the middle of November news began to reach the northern ports, and in Ningpo, with its large proportion of Cantonese, feeling ran high. Early in January a plot was hatched for the destruction of all the foreigners in the city and neighbourhood. The plot was discovered in time, but
‘The peril that threatened us,’ wrote Dr. Parker, ‘was so great that the merchants of the settlement prepared for flight by keeping at single anchor the vessel on which their valuables had been stored. They and some others had their houses guarded by armed men; and after much prayer several missionaries, including Mr. Jones and myself, were led to send our wives and children to Shanghai.’
Thus it was that Hudson Taylor, three months after settling in Ningpo, found himself called to move again. No one else seemed so free to escort the party, and his knowledge of the Shanghai dialect made it easy for him to do so. He could be just as useful in Shanghai as in Ningpo, an important consideration when the stay might be a long one.
Personally he would have given a good deal to have remained in Ningpo just then, if only to watch over the safety of Maria, for Miss Aldersey would not leave, and her young helpers decided to stay with her. She was just handing over her school, from the superintendence of which she felt it wise to retire, to the American Presbyterian Mission. Mrs. Bausum, a relative of the Dyer sisters, had come over from Penang, and into hér hands the sixty girls with all the school affairs had to be committed. It was no time for unnecessary changes; and, taking what precautions she could for her own safety and that of her charges, Miss Aldersey stayed to complete her work.
But to leave them then was no easy matter to Hudson Taylor. The elder of the sisters had recently become engaged to his friend Burdon, and seemed in consequence to have a special protector; but the younger was left all the more lonely, and claimed for that very reason a deeper love and sympathy from his heart. Of course, he dared not show it. He had no reason to think that it would be any comfort to her, and—was he not trying to forget? So he suffered keenly as he left his little home on Bridge Street in Ningpo, not knowing if he would ever see it or her again.
Four and a half months followed, in which the young missionary was engrossed in work in his old surroundings. One of the chapels of the London Missionary-Society placed at his disposal gave him important opportunities for preaching, besides which he daily addressed large and changing audiences in the temple of the City God. Returning regularly to these places he and Jones came to be known and expected, and many were the conversations held with interested enquirers.
‘When I first heard you preach,’ said a young incensemaker, ‘I found what I was longing for. If you had instructed me to be immersed in fire instead of in water, I should have desired it with all my heart.’
Nevertheless their way was anything but easy at this time. During the whole period of their stay in Shanghai they were surrounded by suffering and distress of the most painful kind. Famine refugees from Nanking had poured into the city until there were thousands of destitute and starving persons added to the ranks of beggary. This meant that one never could go out without seeing heart-
EBENEZER AND JEHOVAH JIREH 5-296
rending scenes, which the conditions of life around them made it almost impossible to relieve.
Furthermore, a debt of over £1,000 burdened the Society to which they belonged, and burdened still more the consciences of Hudson Taylor and his companions. For some time he had been corresponding with the secretaries on the subject, feeling that, unless a change could be made in the home-management, he would be obliged to withdraw from the service of the Society. This he was most reluctant to do, although the term of years agreed upon in his engagement had expired. He had even suggested that remittances should only be sent when there was money in hand, as he would far rather look to the Lord directly for supplies than draw upon borrowed money. But it seemed as though the Committee could not see anything wrong in their position, and for this reason especially he was much exercised about continuing his connection with them.
Neither then nor at any time did he wish to be ‘a free lance,’ independent of the support and control of others, but it was hard to see in what connection he could labour, - seeing he was unordained and without a medical degree.
‘I am not sanguine as to any other Society taking me,’ he wrote to his mother early in the spring: ‘but, as always, the Lord will provide.’
It was in even more personal matters, however, that the young missionary was specially cast upon God, through his deep and growing love for Maria Dyer. He had thought, he had in a sense hoped, that absence would enable him to forget; that his love for her would be more under control when she was out of sight. And now quite the reverse was the case. Silently but steadily it gained a stronger hold upon his inmost being. He had loved before in a more or less boyish way; but this was different. Everything he thought, felt and did seemed permeated with the sense of that other life, so much a part of his own. He could not separate himself in thought from her; and when most consciously near to God he felt the communion of her spirit, the longing for her presence most.
In everything she satisfied his mind and heart; not only embodying his ideal of womanliness, but being herself devoted to the work to which his life was given. As one who having put his hand to the plough dared not look back, he could rest in the assurance, that she would help and not hinder him in his special service. And yet the old question remained: how could he marry—with such prospects, such a future?
Of her thoughts and feelings about him, if she had any, he knew nothing. She had always been kind and pleasant, but that she was to everyone, with a sweetness of spirit that was unfailing. Apparently she did not wish to marry. Far more eligible men than he had failed to win her! What chance then could there be for one so poor and insignificant?
If anyone had known, if there had been anyone with whom he could have shared the hopes and fears within him, those first months in Shanghai would have been easier to bear; but it was not until the end of March, and through most unexpected circumstances, that the friends with whom he was living began to perceive the trouble of his heart. They had loved him from the first, and had been drawn very closely to him through their Shanghai experiences, but it was not until Mrs. Jones contracted smallpox among the people she was seeking to relieve, and had to hand over the care of household and children to their young fellowworker, that they fully realised what he was. Devoted in his care of the little ones, he earned the parents’ deepest gratitude, and in the weeks of convalescence that followed they were so united in prayer and sympathy that—how he could not tell-the love he had meant to hide was a secret no longer from his nearest friends.
He was even more surprised at the satisfaction they expressed. Far from discouraging him, they were full of thankfulness to God. Never had they seen two people more suited to each other. As to the outcome—his duty was perfectly clear: the rest must be left with Him to whom both their lives were given.
So the question was committed to writing that had been burning in his heart for months; and then Hudson Taylor could only wait. A week, ten days, two weeks, how long it seemed until the answer came!
He was little prepared, in spite of all the prayer there had been about it, for the tone and purport of his communication. It was her writing surety; the clear, pretty hand he knew so well. But could it be her spirit? Brief and unsympathetic, the note simply said that what he desired was wholly impossible, and requested him if he had any gentlemanly feeling to refrain from ever troubling the writer again upon the subject.
Could he have known the anguish with which those words _ had been penned, his own trouble would have been considerably lessened. But the one he loved was far away. He could not see her, dared not write again after such a request, and had no clue to the painful situatior’. Then it was that the tender, unspoken sympathy of his friends, the Joneses, became so great a solace. He could hardly have borne it without them, and yet the sight of their, mutual happiness reminded him constantly of the blessing he had lost.
Meanwhile, far away in Ningpo, that other heart was even more desolate and perplexed. With what joy she had received that letter! When she could break away from her first glad thanksgiving she went to find her sister, who was most sympathetic. The next thing was to tell Miss Aldersey, hoping she would approve this engagement as she had Burella’s. But great was the indignation with which she heard the story.
‘Mr. Taylor! that young, poor, unconnected nobody. How dare he presume to think of such a thing? Of course the proposal must be refused at once, and that finally.’
In vain Maria tried to explain how much he was to her. That only made matters worse. She must be saved without delay from such folly. And her kind friend proceeded, with the best intentions, to take the matter entirely into her own hands. The result was a letter written almost at Miss Aldersey’s dictation, not only closing the whole affair but requesting most decidedly that it might be never reopened.
Bewildeted and heartbroken, the poor girl had no choice. She was too young and inexperienced, and far too shy in such matters, to withstand the decision of Miss Aldersey, strongly reinforced by the friends with whom she was staying. Stung to the quick with grief and shame, she could only leave it in the hands of her Heavenly Father. He knew; He understood. And in the long, lonely days that followed, when even her sister was won over to Miss Aldersey’s position, she took refuge in the certainty that nothing, nothing was too hard for the Lord.
To Hudson Taylor in his sorrow, sympathising hearts were open, but for her there was none. And she did not know that he would ever cross her path again. After such a refusal he would surely stay away from Ningpo, especially in view of the recommencement of work at Swatow which she knew he longed to share. Nothing was more probable now than that he would return to his friend William Burns. And this, no doubt, he would have done had he been acting on impulse and not holding steadfastly to the guidance of God. As it was, though he knew nothing of her feelings and had little if any hope of a more favourable issue, he was winning in the depths of his sorrow just the blessing it was meant to bring. He wrote to his sister in May,
We have need of patience, and our faithful God brings us into experiences which, improved by His blessing, may cultivate in us this grace. Though we seem to be tried at times almost beyond endurance, we never find Him unable or unwilling to help and sustain us; and were our hearts entirely submissive to His will, desiring it and it only to be done, how much fewer and lighter would our afflictions seem.
I have been in much sorrow of late; but the principal cause 1 find to be want of willing submission to, and trustful repose in God, my Strength. Oh, to desire His will to be done with my whole heart, to seek His glory with a single eye!
It is perhaps not surprising that one book in the Bible, that had never meant much to him before, should have opened up at this time in undreamed-of beauty. His deep _ understanding of the Song of Solomon seems to have begun in these days, when the love that welled up so irresistibly, within him could only be given to God. Never had he understood before what the Lord can be to His people, and what He longs to find in His people towards Himself. It was a wonderful discovery, and one that only grew with all the glad fruition that lay beyond this pain. To those who knew Hudson Taylor best in later years, nothing was more characteristic than his love for the Song of Solomon arid the way in which it expressed his personal relationship to the Lord.'° Here is the beginning of it all, culled from letters to his mother and sister in that sad spring of 1857.
My dear Amelia, it is very late, but I cannot retire without penning a few lines to you. All below is transitory; we know not what a day or an hour may bring forth. One thing only changes not—the love of God. Our precious Jesus is the same and ever will be, and soon He will come and take us to Himself.
Have you thought much about the Song of Solomon? It is a rich garden to delight in, and so is the forty-fifth Psalm. To think that even the sweetest, dearest of earthly ties but faintly shadows forth the love of Jesus to His redeemed, to me, is it not wonderful? Oh, how can we love our precious Jesus enough, how do enough for Him! Soon will He call us to a wedding feast, the marriage supper of the Lamb. Not as guests, but as the bride shall we take our place with joy, arrayed in the spotless robe of His righteousness. The time is short. May we live as those who wait for their Lord, and be ready with joy to meet Him.
With the first hot days of summer came a change in the conditions that had detained Hudson Taylor and his colleagues in Shanghai. The famine refugees began to disappear, as spring harvests drew them back to country villages all over the plain. Furthermore, a lull in the war with England made aggressive work in Ningpo and the neighbourhood possible; Hudson Taylor and Jones both realised the importance of labouring in some one, settled spot until by the blessing of God a local church could be raised up with pastors and evangelists for the wider opportunity of coming days. With this hope in view, they turned their faces to Ningpo again. This move was not made, however, before they had taken a step of great importance in its bearing on the future. For it was in the month of May, three years and three months after his arrival in China, that Hudson Taylor felt the time had come to resign his connection with the Chinese Evangelisation Society. It was not all the difficulties under which he had laboured which led him to this step, but because the Society took a very different position from his own in the matter of debt. Recalling the circumstances, he wrote:
Personally I had always avoided debt and kept within my salary, though at times only with very careful economy. But the Society itself was in debt. The quarterly bills which I and others were instructed to draw were often met with borrowed money, and a correspondence commenced which terminated in the following year by my resigning from conscientious motives. To me it seemed that the teaching of God’s Word was unmistakably clear, “Owe no man anything.’ To borrow money implied, to my mind, a contradiction of Scripture—a confession that God had withheld some good thing, and a determination to get for ourselves what He had not given. I could not think that God was poor, that He was short of resources, or unwilling to supply any want of whatever work was really His. It seemed to me that if there were lack of funds to carry on work, then to that degree, in that special development, or at that time, it could not _ be the work of God. To satisfy my conscience I was therefore compelled to resign my connection with the Society.
It was a great satisfaction to me that my friend and colleague, Mr. Jones, was led to take the same step, and we were both profoundly thankful that the separation took place without the least breach of friendly feeling on either side. Indeed, we had the joy of knowing that the step we took commended itself to several members ofthe Committee, although the Society as a whole could not come to our position. Depending on God alone for supplies, we were enabled to continue a measure of connection with our former supporters, sending home journals, etc., for publication as before, so long as the Society continued to exist.
The step we had taken was not a little trying to faith. But oh! I was learning to know Him. I would not even then have missed the trial. He became so near, so real, so intimate. The occasional difficulty about funds never came from an insufficient supply for personal needs, but in consequence of ministering to the wants of scores of the hungry and dying around us. And trials far more searching in other ways quite eclipsed these difficulties, and being deeper brought forth in consequence richer fruits. How glad one is now not only to know, with Miss Havergal, that
They who trust Him wholly Find Him wholly true,
but also that when we fail to trust fully He still remains unchangingly faithful. He is wholly true whether we trust or not. ‘If we believe not, he abideth faithful; he cannot deny himself.’ But oh, how we dishonour our Lord whenever we fail to trust Him, and what peace, blessing and triumph we lose in thus sinning against the Faithful One. May we never again presume in anything to doubt Him.
What the more searching trials were that brought forth richer blessing it is not difficult at this point to divine. Twice daily in his walks to and from Bridge Street, Hudson Taylor had to pass very near Miss Aldersey’s school. Carried on now by Mrs. Bausum and her young relatives it was still the home of the being dearest to him on earth. He had seen her again since returning to Ningpo in June,
EBENEZER AND JEHOVAH JIREH papas
but a barrier had been raised between them that was hard to pass. Kind and gentle as she still was, he could not forget that she had charged him never to trouble her upon a certain subject; and Miss Aldersey had so spoken her mind to the friends with whom he lived that the position was doubly trying.
It was soon after their return from Shanghai that Mrs. Jones had invited Maria Dyer to go out visiting with her as before. Apart from the fact that there was no one else to whom she could look for such help, it was the best way in which the two young people could see more of each other. To the girl herself she said nothing, nor did Maria allude to the matter of which their hearts were full. But Miss Aldersey knew no such reticence, and seeking Mrs. Jones after the Ladies’ Prayer Meeting, in another part of the city, poured out the vials of her wrath. She had good reason, she felt, to be indignant. Miss Dyer belonged to a different social circle from that of Mr. Taylor, and had a small but reliable income of her own. She was educated, gifted, attractive, and had no lack of suitors far more eligible in Miss Aldersey’s eyes. It was unpardonable that this person should presume upon her youth and inexperience, and still more so that he should return to Ningpo after its having been made plain that he was not wanted.
His position as an independent worker, upon the uncertain basis of ‘faith,’ was severely criticised; and he was - represented as ‘called by no one, connected with no one, and recognised by no one as a minister of the Gospel.’ Had this been all it would have been bad enough, but other insinuations followed. He was ‘fanatical, undependable, diseased in body and mind,’ and in a word ‘totally worthless’.
In the course of such a conversation many things come out, and before it ended Mrs. Jones could see pretty clearly how the land lay. Miss Aldersey’s object was to obtain from her a promise that she would do nothing to forward Hudson Taylor’s suit, and that the latter would never see or speak to Maria in their house. While not committing herself as far as this, Mrs. Jones felt it desirable to state that she would refrain from throwing the young people together, and that Taylor would not take advantage of Maria’s visits to attempt to see her alone.
After this, of course, Hudson Taylor felt himself bound by Mrs. Jones’s promise. He could not write to Maria or seek an interview in the house of his friends. Having learned that Miss Aldersey was not even related to the Dyers, however, he determined to ask whether he might write to their uncle in London for permission to cultivate a closer acquaintance.
Although he had no means of getting in touch with the one he loved, he believed the Lord could bring them together. And so it proved. He who can use ravens, if need be, or angels to do His bidding was answering His children’s prayers, and on this occasion He seems to have employed a waterspout!
It was a sultry afternoon in July, when in regular rotation the Ladies’ Prayer Meeting came to be held in the Jones’s home at Kuen-kiao-teo. The usual number gathered, representing all the Societies, but as the sequel proved it was easier to come to the meeting that day than to get away. With scarcely any warning a waterspout, sweeping up the tidal river, broke over Ningpo in a perfect deluge, followed by torrents of rain. Jones and Taylor were over at Bridge Street as usual, and on account of the flooded streets were late in reaching home. Most of the ladies had left before they returned, but a servant from the school was there who said that Mrs. Bausum and Miss Maria Dyer were still waiting for sedan chairs.
‘Go into my study,’ said Jones to his companion, ‘and I will see if an interview can be arranged.’
It was not long before he returned saying that the ladies were alone with his wife and that they would be glad of a little conversation.
Hardly knowing what he did Hudson Taylor went upstairs, and found himself in the presence of the one being he supremely loved. True, others were there too, but he hardly saw them, hardly saw anything but her face, as he told much more than he would have ever thought possible—in public. He had only meant to ask if he might write to her guardian for permission... But now it all came out; he could not help it. And she? Well, there was no one present but those who loved them and understood, and it might be so long before they could meet again! Yes, she consented, and did much more than that. With her true woman’s heart she relieved all his fears, as far as they could be relieved by knowing that he was just as dear to her as she to him. And if the others heard, were there not angels too? And presently Hudson Taylor relieved the situation by saying, ‘Let us take it all to the Lord in prayer.’
So the letter was written about the middle of July upon which so much depended, and they had to look forward. to four months of prayer and patience before the answer could be received. In the circumstances they did not feel free to see one another or even communicate in writing, for they had as far as possible to mitigaté Miss Aldersey’s displeasure. Maria informed her that Hudson Taylor had written to her uncle asking permission for a definite engagement, and the older woman said she would at once communicate with Mr. Tarn himself, when he would of course see the impropriety of the request. There the matter had to rest until the slow mails returned.
It was about this time that a pair of scrolls made their appearance in the sitting-room at Kuen-kiao-teo that were as new as they were perplexing to the little company of Christians and enquirers gathered there on Sunday morning for worship. Beautifully written in Chinese each character in itself was intelligible, but what could be the meaning of the strange combination, /-pien-i-seh-er; Jeho-hua I-la?
The young missionary who had been ill and confined to his room for a month could have explained. For it was there in quiet communion with God those inspired words had come to him in such fullness of meaning as to make them for ever memorable. Ebenezer and Jehovah Jireh: ‘Hitherto hath the Lord helped us,’ and for all coming need ‘The Lord will provide’-—how he rejoiced as strength came back to unfold to his Chinese friends their precious message, leading them on to a deeper knowledge of the infinite God they too were learning to trust.
That little inner circle, small though it was in numbers, was the joy and rejoicing of Hudson Taylor’s heart, and the illness that laid him aside during the whole of September was made the most of for prayer on their behalf. Taken out of the busy round of preaching and medical work he was able to give more time to individual enquirers, amongst whom Mr. Nyi, a business man in the city, was perhaps the most encouraging.
Passing the open door of the mission-house one evening soon after Jones and his colleague had settled there, he observed that something was going on. A big bell was ringing, and a number of people were passing in as if for a meeting. Hearing that it was a ‘Jesus Hall,’ or place where foreign teachers discoursed upon religious matters, he too turned in; for as a devout Buddhist there was nothing about which he felt more concern than the pains and penalties due to sin, and the transmigration of the soul on its long journey he knew not whither.
A young foreigner in Chinese dress was preaching from his Sacred Classics, and this was the passage he read:
As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up: That whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life.
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.
Nyi came into the hall that evening one of the vast. che incredibly vast multitude who ‘through fear of death are all their lifetime subject to bondage’; and as he sat there listening, hope dawned in his heart, old things for ever passed away and he was conscious of the sunrise that makes all things new.
The meeting was drawing to a close; the ‘foreign teacher’ had ceased speaking. Looking round upon the audience with the instinct of one accustomed to lead in such matters, Nyi rose in his place and said with simple directness:
‘T have long sought the Truth, as did my father before me, but without finding it. I have travelled 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. Henceforward I am a believer in Jesus.’
The effect of this declaration was profound, for Nyi was well known and respected. But no one present was more moved than the young missionary to whom he specially addressed himself. Many interviews followed, and Hudson Taylor experienced the joy no words can express as he saw the Lord working with him and claiming this soul for His own.
Shortly after his conversion, a meeting was held of the society over which Nyi had formerly presided, and though he had resigned from its membership he obtained permission to be present and to explain the reasons for his change of faith. Taylor, who accompanied him, was deeply impressed by the clearness and power with which he set forth the Gospel. One of his former co-religionists was led to Christ through his instrumentality, and with Nyi himself became a valuable worker, of the Kuen-kiao-teo church. Nyi, a dealer in cotton, frequently had time at his disposal, which he now devoted to helping his missionary friends. With Jones he went out almost daily, taking no payment for his services, and everywhere winning an entrance for the message he was so keen to bring.
He it was who, talking with Hudson Taylor, unexpectedly raised a question the pain of which was not easily forgotten. ‘How long have you had the Glad Tidings in England?’ he asked all unsuspectingly.
The young missionary was ashamed to tell him, and vaguely replied that it was several hundreds of years.
‘What,’ exclaimed Nyi in astonishment, ‘several hundreds of years! Is it possible that you have known about Jesus so long, and only now have come to tell us?
‘My father sought the truth for more than twenty years,’ he continued sadly, ‘and died without finding it. Oh, why did you not come sooner?’
Hardly had Hudson Taylor recovered from his illness and resumed his former activities when a call came to very different service.
Over on the compound of the Presbyterian Mission his friend Quaterman was taken seriously ill. A devoted pioneer evangelist, he had remained unmarried during the ten years of his life in China, finding a congenial home with his sister, Mrs. Way. His brother-in-law, one of the Presbyterian missionaries, was absent on a journey, when Mrs. Way discovered that her brother was suffering from smallpox. The patient had to be isolated, and with little children to care for Mrs. Way could not undertake the nursing.
To Hudson Taylor the circumstances were a clear call to go to the help of his friends. Night and day he tended the dying man, doing duty as doctor and nurse in one, that others might be spared the risk of infection.
‘He has been taken home to be with Jesus,’ he wrote a week later, ‘and great was my privilege in being permitted to minister to the Lord in his person, and to see the power of sustaining grace.’
- But he did not say how cast upon God he had been all through those terrible nights and days, nor how he felt the strain now that it was over. For the moment, indeed, more pressing considerations occupied him, and he was reminded in a practical way of the scrolls at Kuen-kiaoteo with their precious message.
For hardly had he performed the last offices for his friend before he found himself in an unforeseen dilemma. In his attendance night and day upon the patient he had been obliged to change his clothing frequently, and now all the garments used in the sickroom had to be discarded for fear of spreading the infection. A Chinese tailor could soon have provided others, but as it happened the young missionary could not afford a fresh supply. It was not that he had been suffering from shortness of funds. On the contrary, ever since leaving the C.E.S. he had received from other sources more than he personally required. But he was sharing all that came to him with the Jones family, and recently had sent £37 to a brother missionary in need. Thus he had nothing laid by to fall back upon, and now the infected garments had to be destroyed he would have been in serious difficulty, but for the resource of prayer.
And just then, a long-lost box arrived containing among other belongings all the clothing he had left in Swatow fifteen months previously. For God is a real Father, and still knows His children’s needs before they ask Him.
A little incident? Yes, but one that added meaning to the motto of the Mission that was yet to grow out of the growth of his soul:
‘Hitherto hath the Lord helped us.
The Lord will provide.’
His attendance upon Quaterman proved too much for him at this time, however, and for some days he ran a high fever. Towards the close he had an experience which brought him untold comfort.
It was before day-dawn on October 20th when some noise in the street awoke Taylor with a sudden start. He could not sleep again, and though outwardly quiet, was distressed by palpitation due to his exhausted condition. Then, with the fatal ease of disordered nerves, one misgiving led to another, until he was overwhelmed with painful apprehensions. All the suspense and anguish of the long months of his love for the one who might never be his seemed to come back like a flood, gathering itself up in a great fear of what was yet to come. They had suffered so much; their love for one another was so intense, and the opposition it awakened so persistent that it seemed more than he could bear. Unreasoning anxiety laid hold upon him. But One whose comprehension is infinite was watching over His suffering child; and in the way of all others most sure to help, relief was given. He wrote to his sister later in the day,
All at once I became conscious of dear Maria’s presence. She came in silently as a breath of air, and I felt such a tranquillity steal over me—I knew she must be there. I felt spellbound for a short time, but at length without opening my eyes, I put out my hand, and she took it in a warm, soft grasp. She motioned me not to speak, and put her other hand on my forehead, and I felt the headache and the fever retire under its touch and sink as through the pillow. She whispered to me not to be uneasy, that she was mine and I was hers, and that I must keep quiet and try to sleep. And so I did, awaking some hours later well of the fever though very weak.
A sweet dream, I would call it; only I was as wide awake as I am now, and saw and felt her touch as plainly as I do now pencil and paper. All my fear in the fever had been that our love would come to nothing, so you may guess how it soothed me. With returning strength he was more than ever busy in the city. The preaching-station work he and Jones were doing was full of encouragement and they had added to it ‘free breakfasts’ for the very poor that were a special source of satisfaction to Hudson Taylor.
Feeding sixty to éighty people every day was a considerable tax on their resources, and more than once they had actually come to the last penny before fresh supplies were received. One instance of the care and faithfulness of God he could not but share with his home-circle. ‘On Saturday morning,’ he wrote, ‘we paid all expenses and provided for the morrow, after which we had not a single dollar left. How the Lord would care for us on Monday we knew not, but over our mantelpiece hung two scrolls in Chinese character—Ebenezer and Jehovah Jireh—and He kept us from doubting for a moment.
‘That very day the mail came in a week before it was due, and Mr. Jones received a remittance for 214 dollars. So once again we thanked God and took courage.’
Very soon after this, Taylor found that the Lord had been working for him in other ways also. After careful enquiry in London Mr. Tarn had satisfied himself that Hudson Taylor was a young missionary of unusual promise. The Secretaries of the Chinese Evangelisation Society had nothing but good to say of him, and from other sources also he had the highest references. Taking therefore any disquieting rumours he may have heard for no more than they were worth, he cordially consented to his niece’s engagement.
And now, how distractingly difficult it was to arrange an interview between the two young people! For Hudson Taylor to cross the river forthwith and present himself at Mrs. Bausum’s would have outraged the proprieties. Anywhere on the compound where Maria lived, indeed, they could not have met under any circumstances; his own home was still more out of the question. News of this sort flies fast, however, and in some way Mrs. Knowlton of the American Baptist Mission heard of the situation. She was in favour of the engagement, and lived in a quiet place outside the city wall and close to the river. She would send a note to the school. Maria Dyer could come to see her at any time; and if somebody else was there—well, such things will happen, even in China.
So it was in Mrs. Knowlton’s drawing-room he waited while the messenger went slowly, slowly across the river and seemed as if he never would return. Let us hope that the windows overlooked the ferry, and that Hudson Taylor had not to keep up the form of conversation. At last, at last! The slender figure, quick step, bright young voice in the passage—and then the door opened, and for the first time they were together alone.
More than forty years later the joy of that moment had not left him: ‘We sat side by side on the sofa,’ he said, ‘her hand clasped in mine. It never cooled my love for her. It has not cooled now.’ ~
After this they were openly engaged, and it is good to know that in a life so serious as regards its outward surroundings there were still times when they could be young and gay. One refreshing glimpse into this side of things is afforded by an intimate friend of those days:
‘To those who only knew Mr. Taylor in later life,’ wrote Mrs. Nevius, ‘it may be a surprise to learn that when he “fell in love” it was a headlong plunge, and by no means a slight or evanescent passion. And his fiancée with her strong, emotional nature was in this respect not unlike him. My husband was rather a special friend of both, and, he sometimes indulged his propensities for good-natured teasing at their expense.
‘One evening the young people were seated round a
table playing a game that'required their hands to be hidden beneath it. To his surprise Mr. Nevius received an unexpected squeeze. Guessing at once that it was a case of mistaken identity, and enjoying the situation, he returned the pressure with interest. In a moment Maria his next neighbour, discovered her mistake, but when she would have withdrawn her hand it was held fast by its captor’s strong fingers. Not until flushed cheeks and almost tearful eyes warned him that the joke had gone far enough did he release her. Those were days when to laugh was easy, and not such very funny things were sufficient to evoke much merriment’
The wedding day, January 20th, 1858, was perfect, setting a crown on all that had gone before.
In brilliant sunshine Hudson Taylor crossed the river and made his way to the old temple, near the Presbyterian compound, that did duty as a Consulate. The Rev. F. F. Gough was there already in his office as Chaplain, with friends from all the different Missions, officers from the British gunboat and a few other foreigners.
Very sweet and fair Maria looked in more than Hudson Taylor’s eyes that day, in her simple grey silk gown and wedding veil. He was wearing ordinary Chinese dress, and to some the contrast between them must have seemed remarkable. But to those who could see below the surface the noteworthy thing about this wedding was the way in which bride and bridegroom were already ‘perfect in one’.
The reception afterwards in the hospitable home of Mr. and Mrs. Way, the speeches and all the kind congratulations passed like a dream; but it began to seem more real when early sunset found them alone together among the Western Hills. And the days that followed were better far than any dream.
From the guest-room of the Nioh-wang monastery Hudson Taylor wrote a week later:
Jan. 28th. We are so happy! The Lord Himself has turned our sorrow into joy, giving us ‘the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness’.
Jan. 29th. He has answered all our prayers; overruled the opposition of those who would have separated us; justified the confidence He enabled us to place in Him, and made us very, very happy indeed.
And from Ningpo, when six weeks had gone by:
Oh, to be married to the one you do love, and love most tenderly and devotedly, that is bliss beyond the power of words to express or imagination conceive. There is no disappointment there. And every day as it shows more of the mind of your beloved, when you have such a treasure as mine, makes you only more proud, more happy, more humbly thankful to the Giver of all good for this best of earthly gifts.
Yet the first place in his heart was truly given to Him ‘whose love exceeds all human affection,’ as he wrote in another letter, ‘and who can fill the soul with gladness to which all other joy is unworthy to be compared’.
Now I know what it is to have my name written on His heart, and why He never ceases to intercede for me. His love is so great that He cannot. It is overwhelming, is it not? Such depths of love, and for me!