The Daily Round
EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND NINETY- ONE produced many letters and journals, written with a fine pen in ink now faded, and with much economy of space, upon the very thin paper of the time; but to the Indian missionary at least, these letters are fresh with the freshness of young spring leaves. Every little character sketch, every small story, is a fragment from the real. We can see, and hear, and feel, as we read; and we wonder, as we turn the flimsy and slippery pages of these well-worn letters, where all the people of whom they tell are now, and how their contact with that ardent life affected them.
“I have had a week of terrible rush in Palamcottah. All the agents have been in, and we have had special meetings for them on ‘The will of God: knowing it, doing it, and loving it.’ Of course, whenever the agents come in, it brings business; for many have got matters of importance to discuss in connection with their congregations. Then we have had our Missionary Conference, and have been busy drawing up new regulations in connection with our new system of Church organisation. It fell to me to prepare the scheme and pass it through the press. We have had, too, a Committee on marriage irregularities, which I have discovered to be sadly prevalent. Besides, I have been drawing up a practical scheme for the C.E.Z.M.S. to show how the proposed Ladies’ Village Mission will work. And we are just on the eve of going into the district. I am setting two Tamil examination papers for Mr. Kember’s Theological Class. So you see I am Jack of all trades.
“I am making an analysis of the Four Gospels. St. Matthew and St. Mark are done, and I am at work on St. Luke. The missionaries here have found them helpful, I believe, and so I have taken St. Matthew with the Christians also. What a mine of precious truth the Bible is, ever full of new beauties. I have had many precious things shown in it to me by the Spirit since I came to India.”
He writes about an itinerating tour just accomplished:
“We had our first preaching without interruption; but our Hindu friends were on the look out for us, and when we moved to our second station they were all assembled in force. When they attempted to interrupt. I told them that we could not allow that; but if they wished to hold a preaching of their own, at a little distance, I would gladly come and listen. This little ruse had the desired effect. They only wanted to show their cleverness by asking questions about the Bible from Hindu tracts. So my friends passed on and had their preaching undisturbed, and I went and sat down, with a great crowd of Hindus all around. I was plied with question after question. They did not seem to care much about the answer, so long as they could ask the questions.
“It was market day, so we went to market in hopes of finding a concourse of people there. We were not disappointed; but we had scarcely commenced operations when some Hindu Vellalars, bedecked with ashes and necklaces of Saivite beads, carrying a large Bible and a packet of Hindu antichristian tracts, burst upon us with a following of admirers. We tried to go quietly on with our preaching; but they were determined to interrupt, and forced their way round through the crowd till they and we were standing face to face. The old pastor was speaking, and they heard him for a little while; but they could not be kept quiet, so he entered into an argument with them, and they made me (or pretended to do so) umpire. They asserted that Christ was not Divine, and were going to read some of their tracts to prove that the Bible says that He was only man. Here the old pastor was too smart for them, and undertook to prove from the Bible that Christ is God. He had chapter and verse at his fingers’ ends, and they had to desist on that point. ‘Well,’ said they, ’ the Bible says that He was also man.’ That, of course, was accepted, and the Incarnation was related. They declared, however, that the Incarnation was an impossibility. Asked about Vishnu’s supposed incarnations, they asserted that Vishnu was not God, and their supposed avathars were false; pretty good for Hindus. They believed in no gods but Siva. They were taxed about the Hindu triad, which includes Siva, but fenced out of it.
“I sent off the others to preach elsewhere, while the pastor and I remained behind to talk with an old Brahman, who took the lead of the rest. He was something of a Vedanti [philosophical pantheist] and was prepared to allow the work of Christ and everything else, since his creed was, ‘There is only one entity and all the rest illusion. God is we and we are God.’ The conversation was friendly and courteous. I flung a Sanskrit stanza at him which commanded a little attention. But the old gentleman would have his way; we parted the best of friends.
“After another address he interposed again. He said that, of course, there is one God and one Veda; but you may find the true God and true Veda in Christianity and Hinduism alike, for they teach, among other things, that we must be good and truthful and upright. I replied, ‘No; put your Hinduism right away at the other end of the village, for we can’t allow it to stand in the same corner with our holy Gospel.’ He persisted that one and both were good; but we pressed him about atonement for sin, and about the holiness of the true God, so different from the character of Vishnu, whose emblem, the trident, was painted on the foreheads of our auditory. To know what real indifference to true religion is, you must itinerate in a heathen country.”
The above extract, and many other similar extracts from letter or journal, will strike straight against the modern feeling as to the proper way of approach to men of another religion. But to understand, for example, the word about putting Hinduism in a far corner of the village, the tone with which it was spoken should be read into the stifi line of print. There would be no stiffness in that tone; only an earnest eagerness, an entirely loving purpose, and above all a tremendous conviction, which the Hindu, quick to apprehend all that touches true emotion, would perceive and appreciate. There is a winning way of saying even such uncompromising words; only let there be love enough behind, and the keenest thrusts give no offence of the kind that turns a seeker away. It is enough to say that, after his death, the Hindus of a town in Tinnevelly were heard talking of him as a man Heaven-sent. They at least did not misunderstand his “method of approach.”
The life now being lived was full of chances to get to know the Christians as well as the Hindus, for it was lived under conditions almost similar to theirs; and in the familiar daily inter course of such a life the missionary grew to understand the real difficulties of the people. One such is mentioned in a home letter, and he often referred to it in after years, feeling it accounted for much that is distressing and disappointing:
“Living, as I am doing here, right in the midst of the people, I wonder how they manage ever to get privacy; their mode of life differs so much from the English fashion of every man’s house being his castle. Certainly ours is the more conducive to private religious exercises, and I can’t help thinking that Indian publicity does much to prevent their growth in grace. Still, God’s work is not dependent on customs or circumstances, as one has found by experience. I had a nice long talk afterwards with the pastor and inspecting schoolmaster. In these free chats one gets to know about the difficulties and trials of the people, and certainly on these occasions I realised something more than before of the temptations of our agents.”
“How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace.” Many a missionary, conscious of the sometimes rather unbeautiful side of itinerating life, has thought of the verse with a kind of wonder. There is nothing poetic or at all sublime in some of the experiences now to be related; they have only the merit of truth. The first concerns a bandy journey by night; the bandy men have lost their way, and the somewhat disconsolate missionary, whose feet feel anything but beautiful, only rather tired and dusty, is walking ahead to point it out to them. In one of the bandies sleeps a fellow-traveller (Mr. Douglas), unconscious of the imminent.
“I hear his bandy go crash, bang, smash against the rough loose stones. Cries of surprised dignity proceed from within. Let them sympathise who know what is the sensation of being suddenly jerked from a comfortable sleep by the pitchings of a Tinnevelly springless cart. Bandy travelling over a cross country path is far from a bed of roses. The jerks and jolts and lunges beggar description. And it suggests a problem of equilibrium to watch the angles of inclination which the bandy assumes on the side of a bank so as just not to upset.”
A day’s romance:
“A day of plagues with me. The room in which I was staying swarmed with insects, and I was obliged to take ofi my boots and put them in the sun to get rid of their secreted population. Finding it impossible to sit still, I paraded the room backwards and forwards, in enforced patience, for the sun was too hot to allow of my going outside. The people crowded round the doors and windows and stared with open mouths; they had not seen a European for many years. In vain did we beg for a little respite from stares; it was for all the world like watching an imprisoned animal pacing his cage. We tried to speak to the people of higher things, but no! they would only stare, and stare, and stare. Wasn’t I thankful when four o’clock came and we could go out to our preaching 1 We got a grand crowd, and as it was Census Day, spoke to them of the Lord’s Census in the Lamb’s Book of Life.”
Evening in camp:
“As I only had two camp chairs, and we were four or five in number, we dispensed with luxuries and squatted down on the side of the river bank for a talk. While we were thus engaged, the Christians of the village came to santhippu [ceremonial visit] with garlands and limes, in the broad moon light. After chat and prayer with them, I retired to my tent for dinner. There was not too much room, as its dimensions were only nine feet square; my cot filled up one side and the table and chair the other, so that I had to keep my portable basin and stand outside, and perform my ablutions in public. After dinner and a quiet time, I was just going to retire for the night, and was letting down the mat-blind in the tent door for that purpose, when I heard a familiar voice outside; and, sure enough, there was the Sivakasi pastor, who had followed me on rather urgent business, and had to return the same night for his Sabbath duties. As ink and writing materials had to be sought (I had brought none, not anticipating business would follow me out there), it was after 11 p.m. when I finally found leisure to lie down.”
Night, after an exhausting day:
“At last I was alone, and soon got to rest; after the hot day, the night was cool and pleasant. Unfortunately some bullocks were tied up just outside my tent door, and they were munching straw and making sundry noises all night, so much so that they broke my rest five or six times. However, itinerants have to take everything as it comes, so I was thankful for what sleep I could get. It doesn’t do to be too comfortable in this world.”
But nothing was worth a moment’s thought if only responsive hearts were found; the grief is that so often they were not.
“Our morning preaching was in the adjacent village, Pannikulam. The people have heard the Gospel, but the place has a very dead-and-alive appearance about it. A crowd soon assembled and heard us attentively, but oh for the heavenly power to reach the heart! These upturned faces, quiet and emotionless, make one long to see them disturbed with real anxiety about sin and eternity. I had business to transact after preaching, as well as letters to write. Later on I had a good long talk with the pastor, getting to know all about the people and their affairs. The grand thing about this district work is, that it puts you alongside the people and lets you behind the scenes all round. My Tamil MS. revision work occupied me till evening, when it was time to go out to our evangelistic work again, a walk of a mile across the fields. Here there was once a little congregation, now scattered — some dead, others apostate. The people there are Naiks; many of their relatives are in the Indian Army. This section of the Naik caste makes good soldiers. We got a large crowd, and quite a number of women at a little distance. ‘Who mind earthly things ’ is the text which always occurs to me in visiting these Naik villages; you find comparatively few idols and temples in them; they live just for this world, and amass riches and build nice houses. There is little or no spiritual instinct, if I may call it so, no response to spiritual appeal.”
There was one triumphant little meeting held outside a devil shrine. The magic lantern was the attraction; and the people were so keen to see the pictures that, as no other place could be found, they allowed their shrine to be used — a most unusual thing in South India. It was a thrilling thing to see this, as it were, a foreshadowing of the victory to come. The missionaries stood inside the shrine before the demon idols; the sheet was hung across the door, and the people crowded round. Thus for once at least Satan was defied upon his own territory, and the Gospel was fully preached there in his very seat without let or hindrance.
Easter Day was marked by its own special joy. It was spent among the Christians in one of the outlying villages.
“The church was gay with plantain stalks with their long flowing leaves, and with floral festoons; and bamboos had been tied upon the inside pillars the whole length of the church, on which were placed rows of little earthen vessels which served as lamps and provided us with a gay galaxy of little lights. The church gong soon brought all the people, and the place was packed beyond the doors; right in front was a little group of musicians. They had been accustomed, as heathen, to take part in plays, and were skilful in songs. One man played a drum, another a curiouslooking reed-pipe, others hand-cymbals. Their singing was certainly good and bright, and their talents were better employed in praising Christ than in Hindu dramas. With this bright musical accompaniment we had a nice little service. I spoke to the people on the first word of the risen Lord to the assembled people: ‘Peace be unto you.’ After the service, with a lighted lantern to direct my steps, I wended my way back to the tent. It had been an Easter Day wholly different from those one used to spend in England. No stately cathedral or bright evangelical Easter service or other grand accessories of worship here. Only a few simple village folk, many of them with but a feeble comprehension of the great mystery of the faith; and yet doubtless this is the direct line of the declared will of the risen Lord, * Go ye and make disciples of all the nations ‘; and so one can go to rest to-night satisfied with the privilege of helping to do His missionary will.”
The Lord’s Day was still the star of the week:
“I used to enjoy my Sabbaths at home thoroughly; but I think they are even more delightful in Tinnevelly — real rests by the way. ... A happy day of rest, a lying down in the green pastures. I for one find it very easy to call the Sabbath a delight.” Such notes are scattered about in letters as in journals.
“Oh, the luxury of Sunday! “he writes of a happy Dohnavur Sunday; “it is like drinking of the brook by the way. Mine was a very happy one to-day. I had nice leisure during the day for Bible gleaning, and got a dip into the missionary teaching of the Book of Joshua. The fifth chapter showed me the equipment needed for missionary success, and the sixth showed rne how to take the strongholds of heathenism. The itinerating missionary finds his marching orders clearly laid down in that chapter.
“(1) Compass the city: day after day, month by month, going round the district with prayer and faith and the ’ witness.’
“(2) Take up the ark: the showing forth and displaying to view of the Lord Jesus Christ — in His glory, in His atonement, in His revelation of the Father.
“(3) Blow with trumpets: the clear ringing note of the Gospel. We itinerators need to be like those priests who went on continually and blew the trumpets. While the sound of the trumpet was heard, no voice of man or word of human wisdom was allowed to interrupt.
“(4) Shout with the great shout: the shout of faith and victory.
“After getting this helpful gleaning, and having a time also over the Greek Testament, I got ready for the evening work. We gathered for prayer, and then proceeded to the neighbouring Brahman street, about half a mile away. The Brahmans there are Vaishnavites [worshippers of Vishnu]. We had paid them a visit a year or so ago. Not wishing to intrude too much on their privacy, we stood at a little distance, and sent a schoolmaster who knows them well to fetch them to the preaching. They heard well for some twenty minutes; but I watched their faces, and could see that they had but little interest in what was said. But here again it was for a witness unto them. The message of the Gospel and the preaching of the Cross, though foolishness to them, was set before them. After the preaching, we gave them Gospel booklets. One youth, who knows a little English, attempted an argument; but we left a couple of our friends to talk to him, and walked off to an adjoining village to begin our preaching there without delay. The poor folk here were a great contrast to their proud Brahman neighbours. After a preaching here also, we moved on to a hamlet inhabited chiefly by Shanars. Here we got a fine crowd, who seemed greatly taken with the music. They are living close to the mission station; but though some for a time made a nominal profession of Christianity, they are without God in the world. All we could get out of them was that they wanted rain, and had no care for anything else. Truly the god of this world blinds the eyes of them that believe not. However, I was taught to-day that, whether the people hear or whether they forbear, we must compass the city and blow the trumpets.”
July saw three of the itinerators ill at once in one of the North Tinnevelly bungalows. It must have been a trying time; but it was utilised for indoor work, such as hymn translation and the usual official correspondence. “Cares and anxieties of the work pressing upon me,” the journal says. September brought a personal anxiety: Mrs. “Walker was ill. “Cause for alarm and yet thankfulness,” says the journal. A home letter reiterates this truth, which was to be a rock-bed of confidence through the long distress which followed:
“We have the deep conviction that the Father never makes mistakes in dealing with His children. The heavenly Potter must shape us as He will. It is a good thing to rest in His love, in perfect assurance that all must be well. Think of us especially in prayer at this time. It is one more to my present burdens, but the Lord is strong to bear them all.”
And in December, when the trouble was growing more acute and the choice had to be made, not for the last time, between flesh and spirit, he wrote:
“Humanly speaking, I see no prospect of my getting any thing like a long furlough for some years to come, as all the responsibility of the new system here rests upon me. I am to try it, and report on it. If I run away before I have done so thoroughly, it will be shirking my duties; we are both ready to do whatever the Master shows to be right. You need not talk about it, but just pray that guidance may be given to us at this time. I have strong views about a missionary’s duty to his work.”
The year closed with the now usual long spell at office work.
“Carr and I are having a regular overhauling of the office, starting a more correct system of the book-keeping, etc. Carr is very good at all this kind of thing, and when a new man comes to take up this department of work, he will find everything in proper order. We had a grand tearing up of all the useless papers and receipts relating to the distant past, so that now the place is clear and orderly.”
“Oh for more of Christ this year!” So the year had begun. Those who looked on felt there had been more of Christ.
“The keeping of the Missionary Society’s accounts is as uninteresting as any other office work, as toilsome, as unspiritual; we do not expect to see the Glory of Christ in this drudgery, but it does appear in the man and woman who perseveres in it joyfully for the love of Christ, and in the power of His grace. The anxieties and discouragements which attend the working of Christian schools, colleges, medical missions, etc., maybe endless: we do not expect that their success will be more brilliant because they are religious institutions; they will be at best but as the weak and common element of water; but if Christ is manifested in those who labour in them, Christ Himself will be there, and there will be effects which bear no proportion to the feeble organisation. We shall find the good wine, where we toiled in drawing mere water out of the common well, and shall recognise the Divine Guest, and behold His glory, where others find nothing but the poverty and the pathos of human endeavour left without en couragement.”
CONGEEVE, The Spiritual Order.
1892-93]