The Burden and Heat of the Day

Many difficulties beset Hsi’s pathway during these busy years in which he was bearing the burden and heat of the day. But what are difficulties? Are they not, to the man who prays, simply occasions for proving afresh the faithfulness of God? “I never feel a burden,” said Hudson Taylor, when he was carrying the care of a Mission numbering hundreds of workers mainly dependent upon him, under God, for guidance and supplies. “Here I sit in my little room,” wrote John Evangelist Gossner, under similar circumstances: “I cannot go hither and thither to arrange and order everything; and if I could, who knows if it would be well done? But the Lord is there, who knows and can do everything; and I give it all over to Him, and beg Him to direct it all, and order it after His holy will. And then my heart is light and joyful, and I believe and trust that He will carry it all nobly out.”

This secret of childlike faith Hsi too was learning, amid all the perplexities that surrounded his way. Opening and sustaining forty-five Refuges in four different provinces, involved more of care and responsibility than can easily be told. Hundreds of patients at a time were under treatment in widely scattered places, any one of whom might at any moment become a source of grave anxiety. Scores of workers were now employed, and had to be kept happy and harmonious, far from his immediate influence, and under conditions peculiarly liable to excite friction and jealousy. The financial condition of all the Refuges needed constant watching, and the mere correspondence and account-keeping for so large a business concern were a heavy burden. Four to five thousand dollars annually had to be provided, and a constant supply of helpers sought and prepared, if the Refuges were to be maintained. Friendly relations must be preserved, in the midst of communities often hostile; and suffering, persecuted Christians, succoured and guided in many a complication, that unless wisely dealt with would lead to serious trouble. Then there were endless claims upon his time and sympathy as pastor of the Hung-tung church, as well as the spiritual responsibilities of his wider cure of souls. And last but not least were all the demands constantly surrounding him in his own busy home, with its manifold activities.

“Whose head would not be puzzled,” says Flemming Stevenson, writing of Gossner’s experiences, “if left to its own wit in such a tangle? What nicely balanced calculations would not be often rudely overturned? What peculiar doctrine of chances would cover with a uniform and calculable success the venture of twenty years? What known human power can determine that when a man receives twenty pounds he will be kept as comfortably as if he had a hundred? Yet push forward such questions and the world will set busily to answer them. It does not believe in our day that there is anything which it cannot do; it must account for all phenomena upon its own principles. It is a monstrously clever world. Steam, and telegraph, and photography, and planets discovered before they are seen, Great Easterns, and St. Lawrence Bridges are very fair credentials. But there is a kingdom into which none can enter but children, in which the children play with infinite forces, where the child’s little finger becomes stronger than the giant world; a wide kingdom, where the world exists only by sufferance; to which the world’s laws and developments are for ever subjected; in which the world lies like a foolish wilful dream in the solid truth of the day. Gossner had been brought into that kingdom. These questions were nothing to him; it was enough that he could kneel down and pray.”^

In this spirit Hsi went stedfastly forward; laying each difficulty before the Lord, as it arose; seeking His guidance at every step, and then counting unwaveringly upon it; daily and hourly cast upon God by needs he had no power to meet, but always finding His grace. His power sufficient.

The stedfastness of conviction and conduct was one of Hsi’s strongest characteristics. He was cautious, unusually so. He made very sure of his ground to begin with. But when once he was satisfied as to the guidance of God, he was prompt in

From Praying and Working, by the Rev. Flemming Stevenson, D.P,

T action and unfaltering in spirit. He moved carefully, but one may almost say he never went back.

Sometimes, in the Refuge work, the temptation to abandon an unsuccessful post was very great. The Refuges did not all flourish equally. Some were satisfactory from the first, financially and otherwise. Some could never be made to succeed. Few patients came, or the men in charge proved unsuitable. But trying as the circumstances might be, Hsi felt he had no right to go back upon steps taken in faith.

“As far as I know,” he would say, “I was led of God to open that Refuge. I am simply His servant. He is responsible. How dare I venture, without orders, to close my Master’s business?”

So he would go on, it might be for years, subsidising the work considerably, rather than take matters into his own hands and make a way out of the difficulty. In this he was markedly in contrast with the impostors who from time to time continued to imitate his methods. Such men would borrow a little capital, go to a place where Hsi was known by reputation, and commence a Refuge under his name. For a time the fame of the medicine would enable them to make large profits, and before popularity died away they would clear out, leaving the patients to shiff for themselves and the landlord to recover his property. Probably this very abuse of his system, and the dishonour it brought to the cause of Christ, did not a little to strengthen Hsi in the opposite attitude.

Of course, at times, he had seriously to consider the question of abandoning work that was unsatjsfactory; but he never seemed guided of the Lord to do so. In one case, where a Refuge had been “eating up money” for years, and there was little or nothing to show for it, he prayerfully considered, more than once, whether it ought not to be closed. But on each occasion the Lord seemed distinctly to say to him, “No, let it alone. That door is not to be shut.” So he kept on, quietly, in spite of financial loss; and in time the place was made a blessing, but only to a limited extent. It was one of his trials of faith, and with other similar experiences no doubt tended to keep him humble.

Once he did close a Refuge; but only once. And it is significant that that was the only place he ever opened without special waiting upon God in prayer. It was a strange story, and might have had a much more painful ending.

Fifteen miles west of Hoh-chau lay the little city of Fen -si, charmingly situated among the hills. Hsi’s Refuge there had been made a blessing, several patients being brightly converted; and a general readiness to hear the Gospel was the result. After some years, one of the men in charge began to grow restless and show signs of mental weakness. He was a good man who had done excellent work, and at first no one realised that the matter was serious. While he was in this condition. Pastor Hsi had occasion to go up to the P’ing-yao plain to visit his stations; and not far from Fen-si they met on the main cart-road.

“Ah, Pastor,” cried Wang, “this truly is admirable! I was just on my way to see you.”

“Is all well at Fen-si?” inquired the traveller.

who knew that for some time there had been few patients in the Refuge.

“Yes, all is peaceful. But we have nothing to do. And, Pastor, such an interesting invitation has come from over the mountains! A number of men, twenty miles yonder, want to break off opium and learn the doctrine. But their homes are distant, and the mountain road is bad travelling. They are most anxious for one of us to go over and establish a Refuge in their own market-town. And I want your permission to do so.”

Hsi thought a moment. The opening seemed promising. He knew that the work in Fen-si was not more than one man could manage. They did not propose to close the Refuge, but only to embrace a fresh opportunity in a district not far away. And there was the man waiting beside the cart.

“Very well,” he said slowly. “You may go over and see what can be done. The Lord prosper you, and bless the undertaking.”

Wang was more than delighted. But Hsi, as the cart drove on, felt a little uneasy. He prayed over the matter. But it was too late then to get the guidance that should have been sought before.

The new Refuge was opened, and favourable reports were received as to the success of the work. Hsi returned from the north, and all seemed to promise well. But gradually disquieting rumours began to reach him. Wang had been turned out of one set of premises, and was trying to obtain others. Patients were few and disreputable. No money was forthcoming; but Wang was going into debt for all he needed; giving it out that the “Jesus Religion”

had any amount of silver, and would pay at the end of the year.

Mr. Hoste was about to take a journey in that direction, and Hsi thankfully accepted his offer to call in and find out on the spot the true condition of affairs. It was the depth of winter, Christmas 1893, and the little town looked chill and dreary as Mr. Hoste entered the muddy streets. With some anxiety he inquired for the stranger who had started an Opium Refuge, and found him only too well known in the business quarter. Followed by an interested crowd, he was soon escorted to the house in which Wang was living; a wretched place, tumbledown, filthy, and in the most hopeless disorder.

Knowing what the man had been, it did not take Mr. Hoste long to perceive that he had entirely lost his reason, and that the only course open to him was to close the so-called Refuge and get Wang away as quickly as possible. This, however, was difficult, if not dangerous. Wang had several patients on hand, supposed to be breaking off opium. They were in a miserable condition, sadly in keeping with the deplorableness of their surroundings. Further, it soon appeared that he had been running up bills to a considerable extent, and had given serious offence by his wild talk and conduct. Aware that his own presence would be the occasion of not a little excitement, and would give opportunity for exorbitant demands, Mr, Hoste decided to leave at daybreak the following morning and send a trustworthy native to go into the whole affair.

But this was easier said than done. Creditors began to clamour for a settlement of their accounts; the landlord wanted rent; friends of the patients came demanding reparation for the fraud practised upon them; and the owner of another house insisted that Wang had taken his premises, and must hold to the bargain. Mr. Hoste had only one small piece of silver with him, and a couple of thousand cash worth five or six shillings. It was impossible to meet all these claims, even had it been desirable to do so. And for a time it seemed as though he would be seized and held to ransom, rather than allowed to leave in the morning.

But worst of all was poor Wang’s utter unconsciousness of danger. He was jubilant over the whole affair; and as a proof of the success of his mission, produced an aged man in his dotage, whom he introduced as a convert. This poor old fellow had certainly got hold of one idea: that he had only to seek the Kingdom of God, and everything else would be added to him. This meant of course that if he followed the new teaching he would be comfortably supported! And the only remark he vouchsafed upon being presented to the missionary was:

“I am going to follow him!” Which he proceeded to do in the most literal manner, by clinging to Mr. Hoste like a limpet.

Happily, in connection with the other house, as the stormy altercation went on Mr. Hoste discovered that the agreement had not actually been signed. But the would-be landlord had the paper with him, and was doing his best to terrorize Wang into signing it at once. This, however, Mr. Hoste managed to prevent, keeping both parties well in sight as he disclaimed all responsibility in the matter.

No privacy of course was obtainable: everything had to be said right out before the crowd: which made it doubly difficult to bring Wang to understand that he must wind up his affairs at once and go down to see Pastor Hsi.

“What?” he exclaimed in excitement; “shut up the Refuge? Turn out the patients? Why, they are not half cured! It cannot be done.”

To convince him, before so many onlookers, was a slow and painful task, interrupted by indignant cries of “Pay my bill!” “Refund the money you borrowed!” “Settle my claim for damages, or you shall not go!”

In the midst of the disturbance, Mr. Hoste explained to the patients that they had better leave at once, as Wang was no longer responsible for his actions. He gave what little money he had toward settling up accounts, promising that Pastor Hsi would send a representative without delay. And most of the remainder of that troubled night he spent in prayer.

Early next morning the excitement began all over again. But there was nothing more to be done, and calling Wang to follow him, Mr. Hoste walked quietly and quickly away. It was a dangerous moment. But taken by surprise, the people let them go. And very conscious of the protecting care of God, they passed unhindered out of the little town and made their way down to Fen-si.

A few days later Elder Sit went up to explain the situation. The visit was far from pleasant. After paying eight or ten thousand cash, he was able to pacify the people and bring affairs to a peaceful termination. But to Hsi it was a sad lesson.

“I well remember his talking it all over with me,” writes Mr. Hoste. “We were sitting on the heated k’ang in his own little room at home. He was deeply concerned, not so much over the loss of ’ face ’ involved, or the waste of money, as over the dishonour cas’t upon the Name he loved, and the victory won by the enemy. Together we committed it all to the Lord in prayer; and recognising his mistake, but without undue anxiety, he learned the lesson. It was the only time I ever knew him to close a Refuge.”

Not the least of Hsi’s opportunities for proving the faithfulness of God arose from the practical question of ways and means. Far from growing rich, as some of his critics supposed, he was often hard put to it to supply the needs of his own household. And yet the Refuges multiplied, and his home at the Western Chang village was never empty. Whenever he had money to spare, he waited on the Lord to know how to use it. This generally led to advance in some needed direction. Then times of pressure came; shortness of crops thinned the paying patients in the Refuges, and there was great scarcity all round. But a way was always opened for him. And he never went into debt.

The yearly expenditure in the Refuges had now reached about five thousand Mexican dollars. And ‘The brick bed of Northern China.

in addition, the medicines he gave away gratuitously amounted to a large sum. For his fame as a doctor was considerable; many of his patients were poor; and besides native drugs, he used quinine, castor- oil, and other comparatively costly foreign remedies. Then his expenses at home continued heavy; for the missionary training department increased from year to year, and other activities were diligently kept up.

With the most careful management and economy, it was not easy to make ends meet; and as in earlier years, Hsi had now and then to part with personal possessions to provide for some pressing need. His own habits were of the simplest. The silks and furs of former days had long since disappeared. He now wore plain, blue cotton garments; cotton, instead of satin shoes; and wadding did duty for comfortable fur linings in winter.

“The money I receive for medicine,” he wrote, “when reckoned up at the end of the year, is often not nearly enough to meet requirements, and during the last two years I have had to part with some of my clothing and other articles to supply the deficiency. If it were not that I trust in the precious promises of Jesus and in the Holy Spirit’s leading, I should on no account dare to carry on this work. I beseech all of you, honoured missionaries, to pray for me and for the Refuges, that the Lord may bestow all needed supplies, material and spiritual, that there may be no lack.”

At times when funds were low and faith was tried, he was wonderfully sustained; and the fact that the Lord allowed him to have such experiences.

and did not always send immediate deliverance, made him far more help and comfort than he could otherwise have been to poorer Christians. On one occasion Mr. Hoste had to learn this lesson; and, at no little cost to himself, to leave his friend in the midst of diiliculties the Lord did not see iit to remove.

It was a time of semi-famine. There had been failure of the crops, and provisions were unusually high. This meant added expense at all the Refuges, as well as fewer patients who could afford to pay for treatment. Hsi, of course, suffered with the rest; and in some way it came to Mr. Hoste’s knowledge that he and his household were living upon limited supplies of coarse bread and millet gruel. Mr. Hoste’s first impulse, of course, was to help; and having fifteen ounces of silver that he could spare, he slipped the package up his long Chinese sleeve and set out for the Western Chang village. It was a long day’s walk, and on the way he was much in prayer for the friends to whom he was going. As he prayed, the Lord seemed to lay it upon his heart that he was making a mistake, and ought not to give Hsi that money.

“But he is in need. Lord. They are really suffering. I have come down on purpose to help and comfort him.”

“You can do so by loving sympathy,” came the answer. “But leave it to me to care for his needs. I have a purpose in the trial. It is meant for blessing.”

Toward evening Mr. Hoste reached the familiar homestead, and was welcomed to the frugal entertainment that was all his host could afford. Hsi was full of joy at seeing him; and together they talked of the loving faithfulness of God, and committed all needs to Him in prayer. No complaint was made, and no help sought or offered. But Mr. Hoste had all he could do to keep that silver up his sleeve.

During the night he prayed still more earnestly about it, longing to be permitted to assist the friends he loved so well. But the conviction only deepened that he must stand aside, and not attempt to steady with his hand the ark of God’s providence. He saw that the Lord was wanting Hsi to set an example of faith and patience that might encourage weaker believers. All around him were other Christians suffering just as he was. Mr. Hoste could not relieve them all. But the Lord could and would strengthen them to endure, and provide some way of escape that they might be able to bear it. Hsi as their pastor and leader had to ring true at such a time. All that he could say about the Father’s unfailing care would have been valueless if they could answer:

“Exactly! It is easy enough for you to talk. But we happen to know that after the missionary visited your place there was a sudden influx of cash. We could trust too, under those circumstances I”

Still it was very hard for Mr. Hoste to say farewell next morning, and return to Hung-tung, leaving matters just as he had found them. Hsi accompanied him some distance along the road, and was never dearer to the heart of his friend than when he had to let him go back, alone, into the trial.

Long after, when it was all over and they were talking one day of the way in which God had provided, Mr. Hoste told Hsi of the real purpose of that visit, and of how nearly at the last moment he had handed him the silver that would have removed all difficulty. Hsi was deeply touched; and to Mr. Hoste’s surprise, thanked him earnestly for having followed the guidance of God and refrained. He said that the many little ways in which help had come to him, as to others, had brought them all so much nearer to God; and that they had learned precious lessons in the trial that would all have been lost if by Mr. Hoste’s gift deliverance had come immediately, and their eyes had been turned to him rather than fixed on the Lord.

One of Hsi’s most helpful hymns was written at a time when funds were low and there was a good deal of persecution and distress, as well as the prospect of famine. It was written in perfect peace of heart, and is still sung by Shan-si Christians when amid fiery trials they are enabled to rejoice in God.

I. Through the faith.

Grown so poor 1
How can I but be sad?
Think of Christ
Born so low I
And then my heart is glad.

Chorus

Jesus gives me peace,
Jesus gives me peace.

The peace that Jesus gives
Unlike the joys of this world.

None can take away:
It is the peace of Heaven.

“JESUS GIVES ME PEACE.”

<a» A i S’J -

28s

2. For the truth
Treated ill,

How can I but be sad?

Think of Christ

Crowned with thorns!
And then my heart is glad.

3. For “Good News”
Pass through pain;

How can I but be sad?

Think of Christ

Scourged and torn!
And then my heart is glad.

4. For the Church
In sore straits;

How can I but be sad?

Think of Christ

On the Cross!
And then my heart is glad.

This joy, that the world can neither give nor take away, was the secret of his strength. In the midst of “reproaches, necessities, persecutions, distresses,” the knowledge that it was all “for Christ’s sake” filled him with a gladness that only those who have felt the like can understand.

“In labours more abundant” he was now often away from home for weeks or months together, visiting the Refuges and superintending church affairs throughout his wide district. On the cover of his cart, as he travelled from place to place, he had the sentence, “Holy Religion of Jesus” in large, red characters, to draw attention and afford an opening for conversation on spiritual things. For the same reason he often wore across the front of his outer garment the six characters, Je-su kiang sM kiu ren: “Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” Wherever he went he embraced every opportunity for talking with fellow-travellers and preaching Christ in the towns and villages he passed through. Many a Christian in Shan-si was first led to an interest in the Gospel through a word thus spoken by the wayside, in some tea-shop, or in an inn at night, by the tired, travel-stained man who was never too weary to tell of the love of Jesus.

During later years he was away from home as much as ten months out of twelve, travelling and working thus. He used his own conveyance less then than formerly, and on long journeys, to save expense, travelled like any poor man of the district, walking half the time, and engaging a donkey for a stretch here and there, wherever one was available. Some of his Refuges were in remote places, and many of the hamlets he visited were hidden away among the mountains. Thus his journeys were often difficult and lonely, and he had to carry his own belongings many a weary mile. On these out-of-the-way roads there were often no inns, or only those of the roughest description. But he was content to be “as his Master,” and put up cheerfully with poor accommodation and still poorer fare. Many a half-sleepless night he had to spend amid crowding, discomfort, and dirt. He was never a strong man physically, but it was wonderful how the Lord sustained him amid great and constant hardships.

At home, between his journeys, he was always busy; teaching and training his men; attending to correspondence, accounts, medicine-making, and all the business details that had to be kept right; discharging his pastoral duties in the Hung-tung district; conducting weddings and funerals, or visiting the sick and dying.

“You are always hard at work,” said a visitor.

“Yes,” he replied. “One cannot be diligent overmuch in the Lord’s harvest field. But my heart is always at leisure.”

This was indeed the case, and increasingly so as time went on: at leisure from itself, to care for and comfort others.

One burden that became increasingly heavy as the work grew was the strong opposition to the whole Refuge system that developed on the part of some whose opinion he valued most. There were able and devoted missionaries in Shan-si who objected to Hsi’s methods, and would have preferred the Refuge work, if it must be carried on at all, to be under the direct control of the Mission. They thought that he went ahead too fest; and that the condition of affairs that gave him so much influence among the native Christians was dangerous. Some did not hesitate to express these convictions to Hsi himself, and he was aware of a good deal more than was said in his presence. All this, of course, was painful and perplexing, for Hsi had learned to value the sympathy and approval of missionary brethren.

Rumours even began to be circulated that he was making money through the Refuge work, and carried it on chiefly for the sake of enriching himself. When this was reported to Hsi, he quietly answered:

“Yes, I am engaged in a profitable undertaking.

My business sign is THen-chao-kiihy My Master, the Proprietor, is Lord of All. The profits I seek and obtain are the priceless souls of men; those who enter the Refuges, hear the Gospel, believe, and obtain salvation. They are not a few. Several thousands of men and women have through this business been delivered from opium - smoking. Several hundreds are at the present time standing firm in the faith: some pastors, some elders, some deacons, and many church members and inquirers. My hope is that when the Master returns to reckon up accounts. He may receive His capital and interest, without loss. What objection can there be to such business in His name?”

But though at times he responded cheerfully to criticisms of this sort, the distress they caused under other circumstances was very great. His brief autobiography affords a glimpse into this phase of his experience.

“Some honoured missionaries,” he writes,” exhorted me very earnestly to close the Refuges, saying it was an undertaking fraught with perils.

“‘If it were a question of my own wishes,’ I replied, ‘I would not continue a single day. But seeing the Lord has led me into this work, I dare not withdraw. But I will pray over the matter.’

“Thereafter I kept these words spoken by the missionaries in my mind, not venturing to disregard such advice. From that time my strength of heart for work in the Refuges seemed considerably weakened, and the battle was harder to fight.

’ “Heavenly Invitation Office,” the three characters he put up over all his Refuges.

U” The devil also, using this opportunity, disturbed me not a little.

“‘The task you are attempting is truly an ungrateful one,’ he persisted. ‘It is criticised by outsiders and disapproved of even by missionaries. It absorbs your money, your time, and your strength. To the end of your days you will never be free from care, or able to obtain rest. You and your wife seldom see each other’s faces. In several of the Refuges you are losing money, and obtaining no results. Why sh&uld you toil and suffer more than other people? There is no need for you to take all this trouble.’

“Hence I was still more unsettled, and could only pray earnestly to the Lord.”

It was not that he was really undecided; for the more he prayed, the more he was sure that the work was of God. But he keenly felt the weight of opinion against him; and as it was shared by men whom he respected and loved, it cast him back upon the Lord continually for reassurance.

It was, perhaps, scarcely to be wondered at that some of the foreigners in Shan-si should feel as they did about the movement. They saw in it elements of danger that caused anxiety. The Refuges were numerous and widely scattered, which rendered supervision difficult. Hsi himself and his helpers were far from perfect: and it was impossible but that mistakes should occur at times. His power over the native Christians was undoubtedly very great. Had he chosen to go off on his own account and sever all connection with the Mission, he might easily have carried with him the larger part of the local church. It was difficult for those who had not lived with him, to understand his character and position, and to appreciate the enthusiastic love and confidence he inspired. They felt concerned about his being such a centre of influence, not realising that spiritual relationships are at least as strong as natural, and cannot be set aside. During ten years or more of the busiest time of his life, this misunderstanding continued. No doubt the effect was to a certain extent beneficial; for it led to more prayer and greater carefulness. But it was painful also, and cost Hsi no little exercise of mind.

On one occasion it seemed more than he could bear, and led to his making a mistake he much regretted. It was at a difficult crisis. Funds were low and discouragements many. Hsi went over to P’ing-yang on business, and there a missionary whose age and experience entitled him to respect, called him aside and strongly urged him to retrench and even abandon the work.

“He is my senior,” said Hsi to himself. “I must reverently attend to his words.”

When the missionary had pressed home all his arguments, Hsi answered respectfully:

“Your exhortation I will keep in my heart. Had it been a question of my own wishes, I should never have opened one Refuge. But if the Lord desires to do this work through me, can I refuse? I dare not say I will or will not continue. I must be quiet in His hands.”

After this, troubles only increased; especially at Hoh-chau. The work there, which had been so promising after the arrival of the ladies, seemed at a standstill. Dissensions weakened the little church.

and some among the Christians had even gone back to opium-smoking. The Refuges both for men and women were almost empty. Financially they were a failure, and the expense of keeping them open was a tax upon the treasury. All this lent urgency to the temptation that assailed him:

“You see Mr. was right. His words are

true. You cannot get on. Better do as he said, and abandon the Refuges. He knows much more about missionary matters than you do.”

Hsi fought these suggestions bravely; but at length the difficulties at Hoh-chau reached a climax, and he decided to close the Refuges and hand over the station to the Mission. His time and resources could be better spent elsewhere.

Important affairs took him to Hung-tung just at this time, and after the usual evening service he went to Mr. Hoste’s room and explained the situation.

“When next you go to Hoh-chau,” he concluded, “I shall be glad if you will confer with the ladies, and let me know the result. If they wish to make use of the courtyard adjoining their own, I will arrange it so. If not, the premises can be given up. I do not intend to carry on the work any longer.”

Mr. Hoste was greatly surprised, and felt that something was wrong. He saw, however, that it was no use to question or argue, and simply said:

“I will see that your wishes are carried out.”

But alone that night he prayed much that the Lord would undertake for His tried servant, and not allow any mistake to be made.

Midnight came and passed; but still Hsi could not sleep. His heart was strangely troubled. At length, weary with tossing from side to side, he rose and gave himself to prayer. But the burden only increased, until the very depths of his being seemed stirred, and he broke into an agony of weeping.

“Lord, what does it mean?” he cried, “I am but a child, full of ignorance and weakness. Lord, how have I grieved Thee? Show me the reason for this distress.”

“Remember Hoh-chau,” came the answer, almost as if a voice had spoken, “How dare you retreat there, because of a little trial? Have you forgotten your many prayers for missionaries to work with you in that city? I sent them. It has cost them far more than it is costing you. Yet now, because of difficulty, you are about to close the Refuges and abandon the ladies when they need you most. Where is your faith, your love?”

Overwhelmed with conviction, Hsi fell on his face and reconsidered the whole position before the Lord. Things always look so different from that point of view.

“Ah, Lord,” he cried, “if it be Thy will that I should suffer on account of these Refuges, I welcome it with a willing heart. Thou canst make them prosper: and whether or no, I will not abandon one of them, if Thou dost not approve.”

Early next morning Mr. Hoste was surprised to find Hsi all ready for a journey, and to hear that he was going himself to Hoh-chau.

“I have been wrong,” he said. “The Lord has showed me. Instead of giving up the Refuges, I must go over at once and help to get things on a better footing.”

“Then my prayers are answered,” was the cheering response. “Last night I besought the Lord to show you His will in the matter. He has surely done it.”

Through the long hours of that summer day, Hsi urged his mules over the mountain road, and as evening was drawing in, he reached the gates of the city. Slowly he made his way through the streets and climbed the hill to the mission-house. There, to his surprise, all was silent and deserted. The servants were out apparently, for he knocked again and again, but could get no answer. Where were the Refuge-keepers? Where was the Biblewoman? Where were the ladies? At last his anxiety was relieved by the sound of footsteps, and a voice from within inquiring what was wanted.

“It is I,” cried Pastor Hsi. “Let me in. The Lord has sent me to help you.”

With surprise and thankfulness the door was thrown open, and he was welcomed to the empty house, where he found the ladies in real trouble, their helpers having all deserted them. Cook, water-carrier, woman, all were gone, and even the Christians had left them, for the night, alone.

As they answered his questions, Hsi noticed that the ladies had slipped away in turn to draw water from the well, light a fire, and prepare him a meal. This broke him down altogether. And when they urged that such services were but a small expression of their gratitude for his coming and all his care on their behalf, he had to go away to hide his tears.

That evening he did all he could to encourage the young missionaries, thus strengthening his own faith in God.

“There was a time,” he reminded them, “when even the Lord Jesus could do nothing, and all His work was stopped. Oh, those dark days when He lay still and silent in the grave! It is like that just now with us in Hoh-chau. But there will be a resurrection morning.”

Next day he went in search of the Christians, and gathered together as many as possible with the Refuge-workers and servants. Earnestly he pleaded with them to return to the Lord; and having investigated the trouble, straightened out complications and set everything going on a satisfactory basis again. There was, about his appeals, a warmth of love and renewed devotion that awoke a response in all hearts. That was the turning point. The men’s Refuge was reopened, and many patients applying, it soon became financially independent. The missionary work of the station was resumed with growing encouragement. Best of all, souls were saved, and Hsi never again lost faith so far as to attempt to abandon work that the Lord had given him to do.

One remarkable feature of his life, during these busy years, was the energy and endurance he manifested under long-continued strain, both mental and physical. “I always felt,” said Mr. Hoste, who was with him constantly, “that Hsi had a bodily strength not his own. He was a man whom God specially sustained for the work He had given him to do. I have known him walk thirty miles at a stretch, in case of need; quite a remarkable feat for a man of his age and training; and after fasting entirely for two days, he was able to baptize by immersion as many as fifty men at one time.”

Hsi himself definitely realised that the strength he drew upon from day to day was supplied in answer to prayer. He had long since learned the secret of triumphing over weakness, weariness, and physical infirmities in the power of the Holy Spirit. He believed that Christ was life — daily, hourly, as need arose — life in abundance.^ At the same time, he never would bind himself to any hard and fast system of divine healing. He recognised clearly the efficacy of “the prayer of faith “; and also just as clearly that the Lord was pleased, often, to use means. There was room in his mind, as in his experience, for both sides of truth to find a place.

This was partly due to his well-balanced temperament. He was an unusual combination of faith and practical wisdom; intense devotion and common sense. There was nothing of the ascetic about him, and yet he constantly resorted to fasting. This was not with any idea of mortifying the flesh, but simply with a view to the furtherance of the Gospel. He found that in times of difficulty, his prayers were more in the power of the Spirit, and more effectual, when he was fasting than otherwise. But under ordinary circumstances, he could enjoy a good dinner and would take it gladly. In the same way he appreciated nice clothing and comfortable surroundings. He recognised that God has given these and many other beautiful things, richly to be enjoyed, and that there is no virtue in going without them for its own sake. But with him the supreme question was:” How can I make the very most of myself, my time, my resources, for the extension of

‘John X. 10, R.V. margin; see also John i. l6, and Romans v. 17.

the Kingdom of God?” With unfaltering determination he subordinated everything to this end, and shaped his whole life in view of eternity — his own, and that of other souls.

The welfare of those for whom he was responsible, was truly more to him than his own; for he entered deeply into the Apostolic spirit: “All things are for your sake and the Gospel’s.” The following instance may serve to illustrate the principles that guided him in such matters.

It was during the trying time at Hoh-chau. Difficulties were passing away, and the number of Christians gathering for worship on Sundays was increasingly large. Many came from a distance. The services were long, and they could not get back to their homes until evening. Seeing this, the ladies in the station had been in the habit of providing a simple mid -day meal. But though harmless in itself, this custom had given rise to a great deal of criticism. The Christians were spoken of as beggars and impostors.

“You only believe in Jesus for the food you get,” became a common reproach.

Under these circumstances. Pastor Hsi and the ladies felt that they must make a change. The country Christians saw that this was right and necessary, though it came hard on many of them, who were so poor that the only food they had was of the coarsest description, and they preferred to go hungry all day rather than bring that with them and eat it among their friends in the city. Here then was a difficult position, and one that Hsi felt keenly.

Soon after the custom was given up, he decided to go over to Hoh-chau for the sake of spending Sunday with the Christians. A long day’s journey brought him to the city at nightfall. He had been fasting since the previous evening, that he might specially wait upon God for blessing. For the same reason he went without supper. And the next day he would touch nothing, on account of the Christians who were gathering for the services. He truly loved them, and wanted them to feel it. Morning, afternoon, and evening he preached with unusual power; and there were few dry eyes when he spoke of his joy that so many had come in from the country though it meant being hungry all day.

“As you have nothing,” he said, “how could I eat? We must stop this evil-speaking, for the glory of God.”

Was it any wonder the people loved him? He taught them by his life. He lived, indeed, for them. This was the spirit of all his self-denials: “I endure... that they may obtain.”

Some things in the experiences of Pastor Hsi that, looked at superficially, may seem extravagant, are simple and natural enough when one remembers how absolutely he lived his whole life with and for God. Mr. Hoste was interested to observe, for example, that he was not infrequently warned of danger by a curious, sudden failure of physical strength.

“I often know,” Hsi would say, “when special trial or temptation is at hand. I become so weak in body, that it is necessary to stop whatever I am doing, and cry to the Lord.”

’ 2 Timothy ii. lo.

This was no unusual experience. In the midst of the day’s work, even when absorbingly engaged in business matters, his strength seemed unaccountably to ebb away. It was not faintness exactly; but overpowering weakness, with a sense of great apprehension. There was nothing to be done. Rest and food did not relieve it. But prayer always did. And usually it transpired that prayer had been specially needed just at that time, to prepare for some exigency in the work. So often was this the case that Hsi came to regard the experience as a call to prayer, and always gave himself to waiting upon God until it passed away. Sometimes no indication followed of what the danger had been; but more often it came to light, and he was able to praise God for deliverance.

It was wonderful how closely he was guided, and how in times of peril he was protected and spared for further service. One instance may stand for many.

In the province of Honan, across the Yellow River, lay the city of Yung-ning, in which Hsihad a Refuge. It was a long journey from his home, part of the way over lonely mountain roads on the border. One day while Hsi was praying for Yung-ning, he was impressed with the conviction that trouble threatened the Refuge, and there was urgent need for care. He could not go down himself, but sent a Christian man named Wang, without delay. Wang crossed the mountains and the mighty river, and after about a week’s journey reached the Refuge. He found the men in charge, on the point of receiving a new patient, who seemed most anxious to break off his opium-habit. Wang carefully examined the man, who was weak and emaciated; and as he did so, he felt sure that he had found the danger of which Hsi had been forewarned. The man was already dying. But Chang, the Refuge - keeper, could not see it, and nobody else would allow that he was even seriously ill.

Wang, however, took the matter into his own hands. He had come from Pastor Hsi with full power to act as might seem necessary. He knew the peril involved, should the poor fellow die on the premises. Chang was bent upon admitting him, and it required no little firmness to withstand them all. But seeing that Wang was resolute, the patient and his friends retired. They managed to get him home, but that was all. For that very night he died. A profound impression was made in the city, where the matter became widely known. Had the man died in the Refuge, the work might have been hindered for years, for the people were turbulent and unfriendly. As it was, they were inspired with awe for the God of the Christians, and regarded the Refuge-keepers as men of supernatural wisdom.

A little later Hsi himself went down to Yung-ning. On the way he called in at P’ing-yang to see Mr. Hoste, who was visiting there, and shared his room in the mission-house. Far into the night they sat talking of many matters, and especially of Hsi’s journey and the work he was leaving behind. At length, as they knelt in prayer, a strange and solemn sense came over Mr. Hoste that Hsi was going into unusual danger. He was praying for his friend at the time, and, so great was the burden, that

THE OLD AND NEW WAVL:. FERRY AND RAILWAY BRIDGE.

page 300. In both pictures the newly constructed railway bridge can he seen in the distance. This place is on the road from Tientsin to Shan-si. The Yellow River is also crossed by ferry-boat very similar to those seen above.

he could not but speak of it to the Lord, and in a special way implore His protection and aid.

Next morning Hsi set out on foot for Yung-ning. He reached the city in safety, and found good opportunities for preaching the Gospel. In the home of one of the Christians, he met with an old man who had been suffering for eight years from what was believed to be demon-possession. His condition was very pitiful, and the moment Hsi saw him he felt conscious of the presence and power of the devil. The strange, wild look in his eyes, and his uneasiness and furtive movements, plainly told their own sad tale, though he was not then in one of his violent paroxysms. With such an object-lesson, Hsi preached Jesus, calling the people to witness whether the devil were a hard taskmaster or not, and telling of the power of Christ to save and deliver. Then, in the name of that wonderful Saviour, he called upon the evil one to depart, charging him to trouble the old man no more. The change was instant and complete, filling the Christians with joy and the heathen with wonder.

On his homeward journey Hsi was much in prayer for the people of Yung-ning. Here and there, in lonely hamlets, were a few scattered Christians to whom his passing brought welcome cheer. But for the most part it was a solitary road, and he was glad of the companionship of Wang, who was travelling with him.

A little north of the border, they were right in among the mountains, when he sighted four men of alarming appearance coming towards them rapidly.

A second glance sufficed to show that they were robbers of the most dangerous type. Armed with foreign pistols, and with drawn swords in their hands, they had just accomplished some deed of violence, and were carrying off their booty.

Seeing that escape was impossible, Hsi dismounted from the hired animal he was riding, and quietly waited their approach. With savage cries the band fell upon their prey, seized the donkey, the cashbags, and the little clothing the travellers had with them, and demanded silver. Hsi could do nothing but pray. The next thing he expected was that the men would search them, strip them of their clothing, and probably half kill them in fury at not finding enough silver to satisfy their greed. But, without offering any resistance, he and Wang stood quietly waiting, conscious of the nearness of God.

Suddenly the men stopped. They seemed uneasy in some way. The one who had seized the cash-bag flung it across the donkey’s back, and tossing the reins to Hsi, simply said: “Tseo-pa!” (” Begone! “) Then with one consent they dropped the things they had taken and went off hurriedly, soon disappearing among the mountains.

Hsi and Wang could not make out what had frightened them, and half thought they meant to return. As they went on their way, thanking God for deliverance, they soon came to the spot where the brigands had just been at work, and found two men robbed of everything and badly injured. But it was not until later they learned that the band was captured that very day, and two of them killed in the encounter.

But of all the trials incidental to his work there was none Hsi felt more keenly than constant absence from home and separation from Mrs. Hsi, who had come to be so dear a companion and friend. The tie between them was very close and helpful.

It had not always been so. In earlier years, when he was an opium-smoking Confucianist, the usual wrangling and bitterness prevailed. Mrs. Hsi, though bright and attractive, was narrowed down to the ordinary routine of a Chinese woman’s life. She could not read, much less write, and was in no sense the equal of her lord and master. But when the great change came, the reality of his conversion was attested by earnest desire and effort for her enlightenment. And when she too was brought to Christ, a new home-life began. Eager to understand the Bible, she soon learned to read. Other books followed. Her mind matured rapidly, and before long she was her husband’s efficient colleague behind the scenes.

It was a wonderful development: just one of the countless, priceless blessings enfolded in the Gospel. But even then, and for many years during which they were growing in grace, Hsi was tried and humiliated by a tendency to jarring that it seemed nothing could conquer. He could keep his temper and control his natural irritability with almost

anybody else. But with her! How was it?

Why could he not overcome? It seemed all the more strange because he truly loved her, and she was devoted to him. Few things are more humbling to a Christian who really seeks to live near the Lord, than failure in this direction; and it certainly had one good effect, in keeping Hsi from pride of heart in a very practical way. He prayed about it constantly. Alone and together they cried to God for grace; and by degrees the difificulty was so completely conquered that their lives became a consistent testimony to the power of God in this respect.

As time went on Mrs. Hsi grew in faith and devotion, and came to take her place more and more independently in his work. From superintending domestic affairs, she rose to the full charge of everything, indoors and out, during her husband’s absences from home. With a household of fifty or sixty people, patients to care for, medicines to compound, Sunday services to be kept up, as well as the daily instruction of workers in training for the Refuges, it was no small responsibility. But she was a calm, clear-headed little woman, with a quiet way of managing people and things that was effective. And she was a woman of prayer. While intensely loyal to her husband’s wishes, she was by no means pliable in his hands. And he came increasingly to value her judgment in important matters. As they drew nearer to the Lord, they became more dear to one another; and, absorbed in living for His service, they lost sight of little things that had been trying between themselves.

At length the day came when Mrs. Hsi faced the great sacrifice of her life, and passed with him into blessing so full and deep, that the cost seemed small in comparison. For years it had been coming. They had laid much upon the altar. Time, strength, comfort, possessions, privacy, all had been given up, as need arose. But there was something more.

“In the work of curing opium -smokers,” writes Hsi, “and leading them to trust in the Lord, we meet with great difficulties, and it often happens that men who have been delivered, and promise well, are ensnared again when they go home and find their wives still smoking, so that they have no escape from the seductive fumes even in their sleeping rooms at night.

“For long we desired to open Refuges for women, but had no one to undertake the work. Therefore I have consecrated my wife to the Lord for this service. She first opened a Women’s Refuge at Hung-tung, before any lady missionary came to live there. Concerning this matter both my wife and I have endured great suffering and temptation. Often it seems like a sword pressing against my heart, and I have found it almost unbearable. But praise the Lord, the devil has been defeated, and the work goes on.”

Much lies behind these words. Only those familiar with the East can know what it would mean to a woman brought up in an Oriental home and surrounded by the facts of heathenism, to step out into such a ministry. No sacrifice of social standing or public opinion a woman could make for the sinful and outcast in Christian lands, could compare with what was involved for Mrs. Hsi when she left her home and husband to go to distant places, among unknown people, and devote her life to the rescue of opium-smoking women. But she did it, and he encouraged her. And as they trod this pathway, they found their immediate reward in a love so deep and tender that all that had ever come between them was forgotten,

Throughout the last five years of her husband’s life, Mrs. Hsi was almost constantly engaged in this difficult work. Her sister, the wife of Elder Si, was able to fill her place at the Western Chang village, so that she was practically free from home ties. Hsi himself, of course, looked after her and travelled with her whenever it was possible; but often he was called in one direction while she was needed in another, so that for months they hardly met. But the brave little woman kept on. Loneliness, hardship, misapprehension surrounded her. She put up with discomfort, poor fare, trying and anxious duties, and the companionship of heathen women degraded by opium. She toiled for them night and day, lovingly and patiently winning them to better things. She conducted Sunday services, taught the children, gathered the converts round her, helping them to read and pray, and was always and everywhere ready to lead a soul to Jesus and tell of His mighty power to save.

The Lord greatly blessed her efforts. City after city was reached. Quite a chain of Women’s Refuges resulted, from K’i Hsien on the P’ing-yao plain almost down to the Yellow River. Over this wide district Mrs. Hsi travelled, superintending the Refuges and encouraging the women she had trained to carry on the work. Sometimes on the main road through the province she would meet her husband’s cart, or at one of the larger Refuges she would find him announced to lead the Sunday services. Those were little foretastes of heaven. Sometimes they would spend a week or two together at home, and almost forget, in the joy of such reunion, that they were pilgrims and strangers. But that would not be for long.

“Do I not love my wife? “wrote dear Pastor Hsi.” Often she is in the north, and I am in the south; and for several months at a time we are unable to see each other’s faces; and can only mutually weep and pray, seeking those things which are above and the reward promised to every man according as his work shall be. The Bible says: ‘The time is short; and it remaineth that both they that have wives be as though they had none.’ My wife and I, remembering these words of Scripture, are comforted, and our hearts are kept in peace.’’