To Dohnavur: Home
“January 1. — Reached Dohnavur [henceforth to be home]. Rather a desultory day; getting straight; revising a book for S.P.C.K. on Infant Baptism; letters, etc.; Bible notes; revision of Tamil book; meeting for boys. January 4. — Instruction class; continued revision; sermon preparation. We are reading together Life of C. A. Fox, a most inspiring book.”
So the year begins, which led shortly to work in Travancore and Cochin, a tour previously described, covering six weeks and touching five centres.
Then, with as little pause as might be, straight on to the duty of the time, seven hours of daily class work; all else that came to be done was fitted in between classes, and too often pushed into the rest hour after dinner.
“I do not think I have any real news for you,” says a home letter. “We are just back in our normal life again: teaching Ordination and training classes, Tamil proof sheets, plodding away at the notes of a commentary, and such like matters do not interest outsiders very much. In September I am to go to Madras for meetings among the Presbyterian agents. I am invited to N. Ceylon for October; but that is not yet settled. With the days filled up by teaching and writing, it is hard to get time for mission tours.” Typical entries upon returning to Dohnavur are: “8 to 10, Ordination class (Articles). 10.30 to 12, Converts’ training class, letters, preparation, etc. 2.30 to 4.30, Ordination class (Acts of the Apostles). 5 to 6, Converts’ training class (Acts); typewriting the parts of the Commentary on Philippians written in rough at Ootacamund; revision of MSS. (Tamil).... 8 to 10, Ordination class. 10.30 to 12, Training class (Leviticus); letters; typing commentary. 2.30 to 4.30, Ordination class. 5 p.m. to Mavadi for street preaching. After dinner, typing again.”
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Sometimes the routine is broken:
“Rather trying letters to-day; but God will undertake. Moonlight preaching in Chettimedu [the village at the gate of the Dohnavur bungalow]; quiet, but a dead place. Lord, wake them up!”
One little break was caused by Bishop Morley’s last visit to Dohnavur; for Mrs. Morley, after years of brave suffering, was not much longer able for life in India. It was very sultry that July; and the Dohnavur memory contains an impression more pathetic than sublime, of the poor Bishop in his great patience toiling through long services in very hot clothes, and again of his truly heroic way of preserving to the end of what used to appear endless interviews, a cheerful smile.
“God showed special goodness in sending a cheque for £100, which relieves all anxieties about expenses of work,” continues
the journal. “Went to S, where there was supposed to be
some movement; but, alas! we found them dead and indifferent. A down day, feeling up to nothing, and unworthy to do any thing.”
This last was just before one of those special missions which always cost so much in preparation. For days before such work began he would be quiet, and “down.” It seemed as though this preacher at least, could never lead others to the sunny uplands till he himself had walked through chilly valleys, where the crags throw long shadows in the morning, and evening falls early. That mission was held at Chingleput, Madras, for the United Free Church of Scotland Mission. “A warm prayer-meeting of keen missionaries in my room,” is an entry telling of inward refreshment.
“The Ordination candidates are busy writing their last examination paper,” he writes upon September 20th, after his return home.” They have been at it all the week with various subjects. The Ordination is fixed for October 12th. I have only been back from the North a few days. P. [Tamil brother] went with me, and was the only other speaker. All the South Indian Presbyterians united for the meetings, Dutch Reformed, Church of Scotland, and Free Church. We had about thirty
European and American missionaries at Arkonam, and over five hundred Tamil workers. The meetings were held in a pandal, which was like a furnace, as the weather was hot and close. We had plain speaking about sin and failure, and I trust there was conviction and repentance. But I am always chary of speaking of results. I spent Sunday in Madras, assisting Mr. Goldsmith in his English congregation there. On returning here, I found Hawkins and the itinerating band, and I am now working with them. We hope to go into camp all together next week into some of the large towns.”
“Hawkins preached” is an entry from the journal of that campaign, which recalls a delightful personality. Two remembrances — the last of that last camp, for he had almost fought the fight — are characteristic of the man, a physical wreck, far gone in heart disease, but the life of the party. It was dinner-time, after a day of street -preaching in a noisy market town. Everyone was tired out and not inclined to talk, and home papers were opened in rather depressing silence. Presently there was a chuckle, as the irrepressible member read from Punch: “It is night, and in twelve hours it will be morning: wondrous mystery of nature!” and the small camp-chair, a fragile structure, all but tilted over as he leaned back and laughed till the happy infection of laughter caught everybody, and the dinner-table became suddenly so serenely cheerful that not even the black beetles bumping against the lamp, or the silly moths drowning themselves in the soup, could disturb its equanimity.
The other is of the same man preaching to a crowd of market people, his face more pallid than ever in contrast with their hardy brown. His subject that evening was the Good Physician; and quite lost in it, and oblivious to the impression his wasted appearance produced upon the observant and sympathetic Tamils, he exclaimed: “Oh, come to the Good Physician, Who has perfectly healed me!” Then was observable something not seen every day in a rough street-preaching. The people, their attention thoroughly arrested, stared hard at him, till with a gasp they turned to each other too amazed for speech. They had gazed upon what India most reveres, the triumph of mind over matter, spirit over flesh; and some dim hint of the meaning of it held them in respectful silence, while the preacher, too worn for another word, and wondering wistfully perhaps if anyone had understood, mounted his pony Dan’el and rode slowly back to camp.
This book might shine with such star-stories, if only all the men and women who cross its track were in the better world, which, happily for South India, they are not. But is there not something stimulating in the thought that God has so many inconspicuous heroes? He scatters them as He scatters the seed of His wild flowers and grasses and green and shady trees, so bountifully, so quietly, that it is quite easy to pass them and not see they are there at all. But the angels know them; and it cheers the soul to turn at times sheer round from the people who cannot by any stretch of charity be called noble, and look with the angels’ eyes at the lovable people, who, after all, are not so few as in moments of depression we imagine. For the great and blessed multitude of the unassuming good, let us give thanks.
“November 18. — Reached Pannaivilai [after a flying visit to Ceylon with Mrs. Walker to meet his sister and her family], to hear sad news that Newbery was down with cholera. [Later] News came of Newbery’s death.”
In perfect health one evening, gone the next; this is cholera. But a bright little witness was borne to the young missionary who had hardly buckled on his harness: “His servants loved him.”
That visit to Ceylon had included a Sunday in Colombo; and he had preached in the morning in Tamil, and in the evening in English. It was the Day of Prayer for India, and as was his way, he poured himself out in those two opportunities; but the journal confines itself to dates and facts. On the following day a friend of Mrs. Walker who was crossing to Tuticorin, heard a fellow-passenger telling the captain about that Sunday evening sermon: “I went to the church on Galle Face last night, and I never heard such preaching as that before. I could have listened for hours. I wonder who the clergyman was?” On being told he said, “Well, if we always heard that kind of preaching, and that impassioned earnestness and reality, churches would not be empty.”
The short stay at Pannaivilai was, unconsciously to those concerned, timed so that help might be given to a convert girl who four years before had wanted to be a Christian. She had to wait, being too young to choose her own religion, and she suffered exceedingly, but held on; now knowing nothing of the help prepared for her, she came just as Mr. and Mrs. Walker arrived at the old home, and they stood by her when her relatives came, and, as she was resolute in her determination, brought her on to Dohnavur. “See what we’ve brought!” and his voice rang with delight as the bandies stopped before the Dohnavur bungalow four days later, after long struggle with roads which the journal describes as “frightful.” “Here she is, safe and sound!”
It was exactly the sort of thing which appealed to him: open confession at home, steadfast waiting, and then the courage of determination carried into action to follow Christ at all costs. When such a fight had to be fought, he fought with all his heart; standing by the defenceless girl, assuring her of all she needed, if she were perfectly true. But a shady case was his abomination. Many a lad was sent home “to fight it out there first, and grow strong,” when that seemed the right course (for, as a rule, a boy is able to escape the worse dangers and return later, if in earnest): and he was very strong upon open witness at home. But he never sent a girl or married woman back, knowing their peril too well; and he would have risked much to help them.
The subject is one of moment to many an Indian missionary; so a letter written in answer to the question as to what he would have done in the case of a girl, as he believed mistakenly sent back, is given in full:
“I think that the general principle upon which we should act, and it seems to cover all cases, is this: When anyone comes of her own accord, professing a desire to be a Christian, we should keep her at least for a time, to find out whether she is sincere — in a special case, special arrangements for housing may have to be made ;but that does not affect the principle. If we find she is sincere in her desire to learn of Christ, then, of course, the temporary keeping becomes permanent. But if we send her back, it is almost like thrusting her down again into heathendom, however good and right our intentions.
“I also think that, in the case of girls coming of their own accord, we should not give them up unless forced to do so by Government. I think we may, in our desire to be law-abiding, err on the side of giving up souls too easily. We do not approve of the law, at least I do not in these cases; and should only yield to it if forced. The age-limit is too high.
“I merely state these things because my opinion was asked, but not in the least to reflect upon what you may have done in this particular case. Hindu homes are often awful places, and souls are precious in the light of Calvary. I know you will feel practically with me in this; I also know how perplexing these interviews are at the time. You may also in this case have had other facts before you than those with which we are acquainted.
“We are all praying for this girl, and have been doing so ever since we heard of her coming, and God hears prayer.”
A class opened that autumn for the training of a band of evangelists’ was interrupted by two somewhat conflicting duties: one, co-operation in the revision of the Tamil hymn-book; the other, a battle in the Courts for a convert which, though at first victorious, ended in defeat. Dr. Chandler of Madura writes as to the first:
“One of the most interesting experiences we had with Mr. Walker was when he spent more than a week with us in the autumn of 1903, during the deliberations of the hymn-book revision. His help was invaluable; both on account of his fine knowledge of Tamil, and also of his critical ear in regard to the best word to convey the meaning of a translation while preserving the rhythm as much as possible.”
Dr. Chandler writes, too, of the Bible-reading taken for the Madura missionaries upon that always beloved subject, the piercing of the servant’s ear with the awl. Of the hymns translated during those years, none received more careful handling than Bishop Moule’s “My glorious Victor, Prince Divine!” the last line of which, according to Tamil idiom, leaves the pierced ear listening to the “cooling words” of the Lord.
“The Iyer’s hymn,” the Dohiiavur children called it, knowing his love for it.
The journal tells the beginning of the Court trouble:
“December 5. — Went to see the Dyasthalam ladies about a suit filed against them in case of Shepherd-caste girl, and then to Vakil [Court Pleader].
“December 11. — Telegraphed for to Palamcottah, as criminal case has been brought against C.E.Z. ladies and Mrs. K. [matron of the converts’ home].
“December 12. — With Ardill to see Vakil, 10 a.m. To Collector’s Court. He would not grant a postponement, so our man had to cross-examine Prosecution witnesses; lie upon lie by the Shepherds. M. [a certain official] obviously opposed and wickedly jocular.
“December 13. — Went to consult Vakil and get help. Court at 11 till evening, when Collector adjourned till Monday. All felt relieved, as from his manner we feared he would only charge at once.
“December 14. — Sunday. A day of rest and reprieve and refreshment.
“December 15. — Court at 11. Collector acquitted the ladies, but framed a charge of kidnapping against Mrs. K., who is absolutely innocent, and ordered the trial before himself the next day. We were getting our case ready till midnight. Telegraphed for Bishop and Carr from Madras.
“December 16. — A hard fight to-day. Trial began at 10 a.m., and we had to protect our witnesses from intimidation. As it is, two of the most important men were seized last night by the Shepherds and have not answered their summons. Our Vakil re-cross-examined certain witnesses of prosecution. Ardill and I had to tiffen down there at Court, to keep our witnesses safe from bribery or intimidation. Crowd rather rude. Collector objected yesterday to summoning Carr and Bishop; but we mean to produce them ourselves. [Later.] They arrived from Madras; such a relief to me.”
The evidence offered by Bishop Morley and Mr. Carr saved the situation: the criminal case collapsed at once. “Now, Lord of Christmas, draw near!” is the peaceful entry after storms; and the year closed hi peace.
“Would not the operations of the Christian Church, in India and throughout the world, be infinitely more fruitful and effectual if we called a halt, and faced honestly and earnestly the conditions for receiving our Ascended Saviour’s great pentecostal gift?”
T. W., in his Introduction to Commentary on the Acts.
1902]