For the Work of the Ministry

The long summer day was drawing to a close as a solitary traveller neared the city of P’ing-yang. Tall and strongly built, he was no native of the province, though wearing his Chinese dress as one accustomed to it, and evidently familiar with the country and language. Through long practice the courteous manners of the people had become his own, and he seemed quite at home with other travellers on the great road, though in answer to their questions it appeared he was a stranger in Shan-si.

Three months’ journey lay behind him, since early in the spring he started from Shanghai for the far interior. And now, returning toward the coast, the last stage had brought him into the regions of our story, from the nearest mission-station westward, more than three hundred miles away. Since leaving that little group of workers on the Han River, he had seen no Christian and found no missionary on all his four weeks’ journey across the plains and mountains of Passing its famous capital,

1 Except one traveller like himself, an agent of the American Bible Society.

the ancient city of Si-an, he had stayed to visit the tablet and ruins outside its western wall that mark the site of a once flourishing Christian church. But that old Nestorian faith had long since passed away. No missionary was found there now, nor anywhere else in all the province except at the one isolated station left behind him.^

A Scotchman can bear solitude and does not object to roughing it, but after such a journey even he is glad of a change. And it was with satisfaction the Deputy Director of the China Inland Mission looked forward to reaching P’ing-yang, where he hoped to meet with friends and rest a while.

But on arrival at the mission-house he found the courtyards empty and deserted. Elder Song was there to bid him welcome, but Mr. Bailer and the younger missionaries were far away, and Hsi was busy elsewhere in his extensive parish. The traveller had half expected this, knowing that Mr. Hudson Taylor was on his way inland for special conference with the Shan-si workers, and that all who could arrange to do so would hasten to the capital to meet him. Yes, they were gone: Stanley Smith from Hung-tung and the others from the newly opened stations west of the river; eager to welcome the beloved General Director of the Mission, and to bring him back with them when the conference at T’ai-yiian was over.

It was too late to follow, for summer heat and rains had commenced already. So, thankful for the

‘Han-chung city, on the river Han, opened as a station of the China Inland Mission in 1879. The Rev. J. W. Stevenson had just come from the conference held there in May 1885, long to be remembered as a time of unusual blessing.

J. W. STEVENSON. Page 168.

Deputy Director in China of the China Inland Mission.

opportunity, Mr, Stevenson settled down to wait their arrival and see something of his surroundings at P’ing-yang. Gathering the Christians of the city daily, he devoted himself to helping them in spiritual things. At morning prayers they studied through the Gospel of St. John, and night by night the chapel was crowded for evangelistic meetings.

But chief among the interests of that quiet month was the friendship formed with one man Mr. Stevenson had long desired to meet. Twenty years of missionary life in China had prepared him to appreciate Hsi, and value the work that had grown up around him. To make of both a careful study with a view to future developments, was now his object.

As soon as the news of Mr. Stevenson’s arrival reached him, Hsi hastened to the city. It was just a year since the coming of Mr. Bailer’s party had led to closer relations with missionary brethren, and he was more than ready to welcome this opportunity of intercourse with one of the Directors of the Mission. They met, and the attraction was mutual. Hsi, finding he was understood, soon opened his heart. Long hours were spent in consultation and prayer over all aspects of the work, as well as in spiritual fellowship, and fully as much help was given as received. Too quickly sped the days, so full of varied interest; but they were long enough to establish a friendship that was to last unbroken to the end.

Seventeen years have passed since then, and Mr. Stevenson has been constantly engrossed in the care of a mission extending to almost all the provinces of China. But nothing can efface from mind and heart the deep impressions made in contact with Hsi during those summer days at P’ing-yang.

A long talk only this morning, among Swiss mountains, has recalled it all:

“No, he was not much to look at. But one could not be in his presence an hour without knowing that he was a man with a purpose, a message, living for eternity. Something about his eyes made you feel — here is clearness of conviction and tremendous intensity.

“There was nothing dull or slow-going about him. He was bright in manner; always busy; seeing everything; and punctilious in his courtesy. But there was no trifling in his presence, no wasting time on side questions. He was a man of one idea, and that the greatest that can absorb the soul. To him God was a reality. In everything and always, he dealt with God. The passion of his life was — saving souls.”

“Did you see much of him?”

“Yes, although it was wheat harvest. He came over several times, and stayed for days together at P’ing-yang. We had many long conversations. I heard him preach also, repeatedly, for we had meetings every night, as well as daily Bible study with the Christians. Where he was there was no letting the grass grow under one’s feet! I watched him too in the management of practical affairs, and the more I saw of him the more I was impressed by his grace, wisdom, and ability.”

“And you had prayer together?”

“It was impossible to be with Hsi without having prayer. His first instinct in everything was to turn to God. Long before daylight, those summer mornings, I used to hear him in his room across the courtyard, praying and singing by the hour together. Prayer seemed the very atmosphere of his life, and he expected and received the most evident answers.

“Travelling with him on one occasion, we reached a little inn, and I remember a poor woman coming to him with a child in her arms who was ill and in great suffering. The people used to come to him like that everywhere. They knew he was a man of God and could help them. It was most remarkable how naturally they gathered round him with their troubles, taking it for granted that his time and sympathy were at their disposal. This mother, for example, came in great distress, as soon as she knew that he was in the inn.

“Hsi rose at once to meet her. ‘It is all right,’ he said, ’ don’t be troubled. The little one will be better directly.’ There and then he took the child in his arms and prayed for his recovery. The woman, greatly comforted, went away. And a few hours later I saw the little fellow running about, apparently quite well and happy. One got accustomed to such things, with Hsi.

“One scene I shall never forget. It was after the conference at P’ing-yang. Hsi was still there, and a number of Christians. Late at night, Mr. Cassels called me out to see what was going on. I went with him, quietly, to the front courtyard. As we drew near we heard sounds of weeping, and voices pleading in low tones. There they were, dear fellows, a whole lot of them, down upon their knees.

with Hsi in the midst, crying to God for the conversion of loved ones, relatives and friends at home. Many were weeping. And the earnestness and simplicity of those prayers in the power of the Holy Spirit was most remarkable and touching.

“They believed in prayer, intercessory prayer. It would have been very little use to try and convince them that such prayer was only a sort of spiritual athletics, the benefit of which was purely subjective. They knew too well its power in the lives of those for whom they prayed, as well as in their own.”

“And how were you impressed with Hsi’s work in those days? Did it seem extensive?”

“Surprisingly so. The Refuges even then were numerous, well organised, and successful. Hsi had unusual business ability, and was so thorough in all he undertook. His large household was arranged for, and all their occupations planned, in the most orderly manner. And the medicine-making for the Refuges was a sight to see.”

“Did he not make several different kinds of pills?”

“Certainly, for the cure of various ailments; and for them all he had characteristic names. One was Loh-Hen Wan-tsi, or Paradise Pill; a favourite prescription, I remember. But for the regular treatment of opium patients there were three kinds, used successively. The first was called Seng-ming Wan, or Life-imparting Pill. Next came the Ku-ming Wan, or Life-establishing Pill. While third and last was the Fu-Uen Wan, or Health-restoring Pill, that patients were allowed to use after leaving the Refuges.

“The whole thing was most interesting. I saw myself numbers of men saved through his Refuges. And later on, as the work grew, he kept me in touch with everything by full and regular correspondence. He wrote well and quickly, and used often to send me letters a yard or more in length!”

“As a preacher, what were his chief characteristics?”

“He was fearless and convincing, preaching even on the streets with great boldness. His style was cultured, and most interesting. He always used plenty of good Chinese illustrations; but even in addressing heathen audiences, he rarely referred to the classics. His one weapon was the Word of God. The people loved to hear him, heathen as well as Christians; he could hold them for hours. His sermons were chiefly expository, and I was often surprised at the way he unfolded the truth, bringing new meanings to light. I heard him give one address on temptation that was most remarkable — the temptations of Christ. The solemn impression remains with me to this day.

“But it was as a pastor he excelled, he was so naturally the shepherd. People opened their hearts to him; and he was so vigilant in his solicitude for their spiritual welfare. I was specially struck with this. He had everybody’s burdens to bear.”

“Through suffering and temptation of his own, I suppose, he had learned the secret of helping others?”

“Yes; he had lived through much himself, and was still in the midst of the conflict.

“He knew well what temptation meant. He dealt with God; and if one may say so, dealt with

Satan too. For he had strange experiences at times, that used to remind one of Luther in the Wartburg. But in all such conflicts he had learned to overcome upon his knees. With prayer and fasting he fought the tempter. Indeed, whatever the trouble was, he seemed to resort at once to this scriptural practice.”

“Did not such constant fasting weaken him a good deal?”

“No, strange to say, he appeared none the worse for it. He was of so spiritual a nature that it seemed natural. Even when travelling, I have known him fast entirely for two or three days, while pondering and praying over some difficulty in the work. As far as I remember, he did not even drink tea at such times. He used to be very silent; absorbed in thought or prayer. But he was wonderfully sustained by divine strength. And if any reference were made to his being without food, he would smile so brightly and say: Tien-Fu-tih entien, ’ the Heavenly Father’s grace.’ He did not fast from an ascetic motive. It was not to mortify the body, but simply to help him in prayer. He found, practically, that he could pray better so. At such times there was something about his presence that was indescribable; a solemnity without any sadness, and a realisation of divine things that used to make me feel as if I were talking with some one from another world.”

“/ can well understand that you would almost lose sight of the faults and failings of his character. Yet you must have noticed a tendency to be dogmatic and even overbearing at times?”

“Yes, he was very positive. But you could not mistake his attitude for pride or self-will in the ordinary sense of the word. One of his most frequent expressions when I knew him was: T’ien-Fuh-tih cki-i, ‘the will of God,’ or of the Heavenly Father. And it was chiefly this-^his certainty of the mind of God — that made him confident and determined. He did wait so much on the Lord, to know His will. And when once he felt that this had been revealed, he was immovable. No doubt there was danger in such a position; and he was apt to be too strong, not giving sufficient consideration to the judgment of others. But what he meant to insist upon was God’s way, not his own.

“Then he was so fearless. He did not hesitate to pray definitely about things, and then commit God, so to speak, to His own promises. ‘Now that is settled,’ he would say; ’ we have left it with the Heavenly Father. He will do it for us. Here is the promise.’ Or if he believed he had been guided about a thing, he had no hesitation in saying just what the Lord had told him. People did not understand, and thought him boastful or irreverent. But it was rather David’s spirit — ‘And now. Lord, do as Thou hast said ‘; and a faith that was not afraid to let everybody know — ‘He will do it, for He has said so.’ Sometimes he was wrong, but far more often it proved that he was right.”

“Did you notice about him any special aptitude for leading and influencing others?”

“His power in that direction was remarkable he carried so much weight. Without any effort, apparently, he seemed to sway everybody. Instinctively, people followed and trusted him. Then, too, he possessed great power of initiative, and an energy and enterprise that were extraordinary.

“But the most remarkable thing of all was his spirituality of mind and intense devotion. To him there was nothing at all in life, nothing in the world, but that one thing — love for Christ and for the souls of men. All he had was on the altar: time, money, home, friends, life itself One could not be with him, as I was privileged to be that summer, without gaining a wholly new ideal of Christian life and service.”

Thus the days passed quickly, and by the time Mr. Stevenson had been a month at P’ing-yang he had come to know the work and its leaders in no ordinary way. Many thoughts were in his mind about the condition and needs of Southern Shan-si. The time seemed to have come for more thorough organisation, with a view to future developments; and with thankfulness he anticipated the arrival of the General Director of the Mission for conference over these important matters.

But if Mr. Stevenson looked forward to his visit, what shall be said of Hsi, Fan, Liu, and scores of others, to whom the name of Hudson Taylor had so long been dear? Never in this life had they expected to see him. But he was really coming — the “Venerable Chief Pastor,” founder and head of the Mission to which they owed so much 1 Even now, after a journey of ten thousand miles from the other side of the world, he was on his way to the province, to visit their own Opium Refuges and mission stations. They soon would see him face to face, and have his blessing — who had prayed for them so long 1

Carried to the remotest villages by joint letters from Mr. Stevenson and Hsi, the news called forth general rejoicing, and Christians and inquirers everywhere began to prepare for the conference. The new station at Hung-tung was chosen; for though open only three months, it had already become the chief centre of the Refuge work. Near Fan’s village, and right in the heart of Hsi’s district, it had focussed, from the first, the life of the little churches by which it was surrounded.

And so in the last days of July Mr. Stevenson bade farewell to the old mission-house at P’ing-yang, and travelled up with Hsi and his fellow-workers to Hung-tung city. Many arrangements had to be made in view of the entertainment of so large a company; and it was not long before Mr. Stanley Smith arrived from the capital, to see that all was in readiness. The conference up there had been a time of unusual blessing, and the tidings he brought kindled fresh hope and thankfulness in every heart. Mr. Taylor and his party, including five or six other missionaries, were following on behind, and might be expected in a few days’ time. The news spread like wildfire; and forsaking their harvest-fields and gleaning, the village Christians hurried in.

“The Venerable Chief Pastor has come! Let us hasten to pay our respects, and lovingly greet him.”

And so, dressed in clean summer garments and carrying little but hymn-books, Testaments, and

N fans — for it was the hottest part of the season — groups of eager pilgrims were soon wending their way to the city. Before long the new premises were filled to overflowing, a hundred or more cheerful villagers having possessed themselves of every nook and corner, crowding the Refuge, camping out in the courtyards, and appropriating even the chapel and guest-hall of Mr. Stanley Smith’s own quarters. Happily it was fine weather for picnicking. Not a shade or shower damped the ardour of the assembly.

Meanwhile Mr. Taylor and his party were in a sorry plight. Several weeks of rain, just ended, had left the roads in an indescribable condition. Crossing the great plain south of the capital, they made fair progress for the first few days; but when this open country was exchanged for mountain paths and narrow gullies, between cliffs of Loess mud, it was quite another story. Worse and worse grew the obstacles to progress, until the landlord of the last inn before the Ling-shih Pass assured them it was useless to go forward. But the foreigners were not to be discouraged. They knew how dreadful Chinese roads could be; but at the Other end important work was waiting. Prayer and perseverance would surely bring them through.

Day had scarcely dawned when they set out, prepared for difficulty if not for danger. Mr. Taylor was well mounted, having accepted the loan of Mr. Beauchamp’s donkey, known by the name of “Lion” on account of its vocal powers. The remaining members of the party preferred to walk, their baggage carried by hardy pack animals. Steeper grew the road, if road it could be called.

A rocky stairway it seemed rather, or a dry torrent bed. Here and there in narrow gorges the perpendicular walls of mud had been washed down, until the path was lost in dangerous quagmire.

Riding ahead of the others, Mr. Taylor reached a gully near the top of the pass, and before he knew it, the little donkey in front of him, without a driver, was deep in a mud-hole of unusual size. His own animal plunged in after it, in spite of all efforts to hold him to the margin. Steep rose the mud-walls on either side, offering no friendly foothold for escape. Slowly the poor animals sank, all their struggles only embedding them more deeply in the mire. By the time the rest came up, Mr. Taylor was thankful enough for a helping hand, his unfortunate animal being submerged almost to the saddle; and the other smaller donkey had wellnigh disappeared. His pack, with no girths to hold it, had floated off, and all that remained was a head and tail uplifted in pitiful appeal.

There was nothing for it but to plunge in bodily, carry off the packs, and try to save the animals. It was no easy task. Undaunted, however, Mr. Studd and Mr. Beauchamp, whose athletic training stood them in good stead, joined the muleteers, and a rescue was effected. But it was not until hours had passed, and a fresh path, or stairway, had been cut in the steep side of the gully, that, covered with mud and exhausted by long exertions, the poor animals and men emerged on the far side of that treacherous defile.

But the welcome that greeted their arrival at Hung-tung more than made up for the perils of the way. Through long years Hudson Taylor had toiled unceasingly for the evangelisation of Inland China. The task had often seemed hopeless; the obstacles in the way insurmountable. But God’s time at length had come. The impenetrable Rock opened. And here, in the far interior, he could look at last into the faces of men and women filled with the love of Christ, saved themselves, and living to save others.

Deeply interesting it was to be among them all, and make the acquaintance of many whose names and stories had been long familiar. How often he had prayed for them, and rejoiced in the blessing that followed their labours! And now from Hsi and his wife. Song, Chang, and many another, he could hear for himself of the way in which those prayers had been answered beyond all he asked or thought.

And scarcely less encouraging were long hours of conference with Mr. Stevenson and the hopefulness of his impressions after weeks of close acquaintance with the work. From his suggestions Mr. Taylor gathered much that confirmed his own opinion, previously arrived at, that the time had come for a forward movement in the organisation of the church throughout Southern Shan-si. Hitherto there had been only one chief centre, the motherstation at P’ing-yang, to which as offshoots all the village gatherings belonged. But now around Hung-tung an independent, rapidly growing work had sprung up; and west of the Fen River an entirely separate district had been added, with two new mission stations. Evidently the hand of God was in these movements; and following the line of His working, regular churches must be organised in both localities, into which could be gathered the Christians living at a distance from P’ing-yang.

Nor was this all. Churches must be cared for. From among the men whom God had raised up and gifted in various ways for this ministry, some must be recognised as deacons, elders, and pastors, for carrying on the work. Up to that time, no native Christians had been ordained as ministers in Shan-si. But there were men whom God was evidently using in that capacity, and whose faithful labours had endeared them to the people. In the city of P’ing-yang, Elder Song occupied this position; and across the river, in the new Ta-ning district, an ex-Confucianist named Ch’ii was undoubtedly the shepherd of the little flock. These and other appointments were talked over; and finally, in consultation with the native leaders, twenty men were chosen to be set apart during the conference for various offices in the church.

But the question still remained of the appointment of a pastor for Hung-tung and the surrounding district. No one of course was thought of but the man whom God had used to found and carry on the work. But though only an elder, nominally, of the P’ing-yang church, Hsi was already occupying a far wider sphere. To ordain him pastor of Hung-tung only, would have been to curtail his influence rather than increase it. For, as a matter of fact, he was serving the Christians in very much that relation, all over both districts, and to some extent west of the river as well. He occupied quite a unique position:

“Our Shepherd,” as the people loved to call him. After prayer and consideration, therefore, it was decided to recognise this, and appoint him officially as Superintending Pastor of the three districts, that all the churches might have the benefit of his ministry and supervision. This would leave him free to go where he was needed, and allow the widest scope for future developments.

But no sooner was this decided on, than an unexpected difficulty arose. For Hsi himself, when informed of the appointment, drew back, and repeatedly declined to accept the position.

“Full of weakness and failings myself,” he persisted, “how should I assume oversight of all the churches? Better leave to experienced foreign teachers duties so responsible as this.”

Requested to consider the matter, he gave himself, as usual in time of perplexity, to prayer and fasting. But still he could not get beyond the thought of his unfitness for the post. At length Mr. Stevenson came to him and said:

“Brother Hsi, how can you decline this position? God Himself has called you to it, and used you already for years in the very work you shrink from now. It is not a question of a new departure, but simply the open recognition of what He is doing, and has already done.”

This way of putting it carried conviction. “Why,” thought Hsi,” what the Senior Pastor says is certainly true. The Lord has enabled me to care for these little churches from the very

1 The name the Shan -si Christians used for Mr. Stevenson as Deputy Director of the Mission.

beginning. If He is pleased to work through me still, and more widely, how dare I refuse?”

Thus the difficulty was conquered; and throwing himself upon divine enablement, Hsi accepted the position that he knew must involve so much. Experience had already taught him that true leadership in the Church of God means eminence in cross-bearing, in service, in self-denial. “The signs of an Apostle” repeatedly adduced by Paul in proof of his call to the ministry,^ had acquired for him too not a little reality and meaning. But to the heart cry, “Who is sufficient for these things?” he was learning the answer, “Our sufficiency is of God.”

Rapidly sped the hours of helpful intercourse so long looked forward to, and Sunday morning dawned — the great day of the feast. At seven o’clock the services commenced: and none too soon. For all over the premises, from the first flush of daylight, early risers by the score had been engaged in private devotions; singing with might and main, each one a different hymn and tune, or praying and reading aloud with the energy Shan-si Christians love to put into their devotions.

At noon the chapel courtyard was crowded; no fewer than three hundred men and women, including outsiders, having assembled for public worship. It was a wonderful sight in that heathen city, until a few months before unreached by the Gospel. And scarcely less interesting was the group in native dress upon the platform, including Mr. Hudson

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Then followed the ordination of Song as pastor of the P’ing-yang church; and the appointment of Elder Si, and Elder Chang, and sixteen deacons for the village districts. Very impressively, in the final charge, Mr. Stevenson dwelt upon the duties, dangers, responsibilities, and infinite reward of the service for which these brethren had been chosen.

The closing meetings of the conference came all too soon, and before evening the Hung-tung church was inaugurated by the first communion service ever held in that city. Hsi as newly ordained pastor conducted the meeting, with help from Mr. Stanley Smith; and seventy men and women of the district, saved from demon-worship, opium-smoking, and degrading heathenism, gathered around the table of the Lord. It was an hour long to be remembered, and left a touch of tenderness upon the parting that followed — “Until He come.”