Life Various

The life of the year included the closing of the Ordination class, a long tour in the Syrian country, some baptisms of special interest at Dohnavur (the journal notes each name, with, at the end of the list, “God keep them,” a prayer answered through the years that have passed since). Then came a time of sickness among the children, he sharing the anxiety as if the little ones had been his own; and then a few weeks at Ooty, spent mainly in translation work — he was translating his Notes on Philippians into Tamil.

Local engagements followed the return to the plains, meetings here and there, each calling forth his best. The conveners of the Tamil Congress, Madras, invited him to address them, and crowded in great numbers in the Memorial Hall for a week of special meetings. Then work in Lucknow, Japalpur, Poona, Bangalore, 5500 miles of travel in all, and then home again. Thus in outline, the year’s life.

With courage and with expectancy the new year had opened. The feeling of stir was still in the air; for though the movement of 1905-6 had to a great extent passed, there was enough of the unusual to quicken faith in those who were listening for “the sound of a going in the tops of the mulberry trees.”

It is this element, the unusual, which seems to warrant somewhat full quotation from the journal where it touches the Syrian meetings. To those who lived through the time, the brief and, as it were, hot notes will recall it with a vividness no studied after-account of things as they then were could accomplish.

From the first day there is the sense of stir:
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370 WALKER OF TINNEVELLY [en. xxxi.

“Signs of evident response. Bat oh for the resistless power of God! Good congregation; spoke, then threw meeting open for prayer. Some earnest prayers. Temperature distinctly higher than yesterday. Evening, earnest prayer followed by prayer-storm.”

But, as might be expected, there was special attack; and difficulties abounded, most of them of that trivial, insinuating character difficult to meet. “May God work. Not happy about things here. Still there was a warm close “; then on to the next centre.

The journey by wallam was restful:

“Read Gibbon’s Decline and Fall. Enjoyed quiet on back waters, and reading, preparing, etc. Watched fish jumping in water, birds, people making cocoanut rope.”

In this second centre the people were keen. “Huge audiences, emotional and responsive. Lord, work in hearts.” But this convention did not satisfy the deepest desires; the final entry is:

“Morning meeting, spoke on the commands of Acts. The audience broke down, but it does not, alas, seem to have lasted. Evening meeting, huge congregation, spoke on John vii. 37 with much brokenness myself, and plenty of emotional response, but no break.”

His birthday: “A year’s march nearer Home! Oh for a Pentecost myself!” This is followed by: “The audience moved, through and through. Lord, work deep!”

“Feeling sadly the lack of power. Lord, deal with me.” Thus another new convention opens. “Throat sore, and feeling under par; spoke ostensibly to communicants, but place filled to doors with general congregation. Evening, huge congregation. God has helped throat to-day. Oh for His power to save!... Throat weak and troublesome. As thy days so shall thy strength be.” [” It came like a living word to me,” he said afterwards, in telling of this experience. “I could not be afraid after that. I felt sure my throat would hold out.”]” Large concourse; there seemed real grip. Evening, huge congregation, quiet, attentive. What more? Only God knows.... Voice hoarse and weak; at closing meeting some measure of response.

CH. xxxi.j LIFE VARIOUS 871

It made one feel solemn to see the huge congregation. Lord, cleanse the work. Voice held out, thank God.”

The difficulty of living in the midst of noise through the heat of February and March pressed somewhat at times; but help always came just when it was most needed:

“They are putting me up in Syrian house close to pandal by their church. Windows look on bazaar street, and it is sadly public. Much troubled by rude onlookers” [no privacy possible]. Next note: “Mrs. Nicholson and Miss M’Kibben [who were staying in an adjacent C.M.S. Bungalow] called to see me.” Nothing much would be said about the strain of the noise and heat, but the following morning: “Had a lovely quiet time” [at the bungalow]. No small boon to one to whom quiet between meetings was the essence of life.

Once there was a break at the house of C.M.S. friends. “The Neves received me kindly. Good night’s rest, but feeling under par. Thank God for an easy day.” And again fellow-missionaries, the Bowers, made all easy when the work touched their part of Travancore.

But the strain of four conventions single-handed, conducted always under trying conditions, was telling, though the word of strength did not fail; and never were comrades more welcome than the three who now gathered at Maramana. The crowd there was always larger than anywhere else, and more difficult to handle. Speaking in open pandals is terribly exhausting work; one meeting in the blazing heat in that huge pandal, set on the dry sand of the river-bed, with glowing sand all round, is enough to drain the strongest of a good deal of vitality. But though the lion’s share of the work still fell to the one whom the Syrians looked upon as their special possession, a great deal could be shared. The four friends perfectly fitted into each other’s ways, watching always for that spiritual lead which, when recognised and followed, makes for inward harmony and gain to the meeting in question. Often addresses prepared were undelivered, because the previous speaker seemed to have gripped the people, and so the second stood out. There was no formality, only a careful sensitiveness towards things eternal.

And from the beginning there was a distinct response; but response alone does not save souls:

“Oh for the Fire! Some emotional stir, but oh for broken hearts!... Number of enquirers and backsliders professed. But oh for deeper things yet! ... A lashed sea. Storm all over the pandal; it gradually subsided. God bless and cleanse.”

Then came resistance:

“Morning meeting: there was a block somewhere. Again evening meeting a dead block, and we came home defeated and ashamed. Lord, cleanse, forgive.... Solemn meeting” [again that which cannot be shown lies between these two entries] “in which we felt God’s presence, and the congregation was moved. God cleanse it all.”

“March 4. — Up at midnight [to see fellow-workers off]. Got off by wallam at 3 a.m. Troubled by my pain. Reached Pallam at 5.45 p.m., from whence in Bishop Gill’s bullock cart to his house. Long talk on mission politics.

“March 5. — Left Bishop’s house about 9.30 a.m., and had a restful day in the Gills’ comfortable wallam.”

The easy journey was a relief, for the next two campaigns had to be conducted alone. They were characterised by much solemnity and by the evident interposition of God, which made for quietness. In Kunnankulam, where there might easily have been trouble because of the strong Jacobite element, the journal notes:

“There was a sudden rush [caused by stone- throwing] while I was speaking, but all quieted down again and was solemn and still. A few stones fell on pandal, but people have listened for seven nights running. God bless His word. Oh for conviction as well as solemnity!... Quiet attention, but oh for power and conviction! Crowded audience, many standing, quiet and solemn, and many faces showed seriousness.”

And at Trichur:

“Distressed to find that the pandal is fixed in a dangerous place [a place, he means, where its presence might provoke the Orthodox Syrian Churchmen to cause a disturbance]. Lord, guide.... Our pandal kept quiet by God’s special help. Very still and solemn, but oh for a Nineveh repentance!... Huge crowd and some response, but felt lack of power. Thus end the pandal meetings: Lord, cleanse, and give the increase.”

Then, after the return home, comes that for which for want of a better name we call background. The joyful baptism day is noted in the journal. There followed immediately a sharp attack from the forces of evil, and a long train of anxieties ended in one of simple human sort:

“Still concerned about dear little C.; she has had high fever again to-day, early and late, only going down in middle of day. Oh for Thy healing grace.”

That day a letter was written to one compelled to be absent: “Every little lamb belongs to the Good Shepherd, not to us “; by which he meant to say, “Prepare to give up this little one.” But next day the entry is: “C. much better, praise a gracious God.” And the daily progress is noted: “C. had a little fever for some hours. God heal her completely. C. free from fever to-day, thank God.”

Besides the Commentary work on the hills in May there were the usual conventions, and Bible-readings and meetings. Sometimes he would have been unfeignedly glad of a rest; but he never had the heart to refuse appeals for help, and he toiled unto weariness and rejoiced to do it. The Ooty Bible-readings that year were on the Book of Zechariah; and to one sorely tempted to look at the encompassing “horns,” the word, “I saw four horns.... And the Lord showed me four carpenters,” brought courage and reassurance. “We can see the horns for ourselves; we need the Lord to show us the Carpenters. A Carpenter for every horn.”

One sorrowful day is thus summed up: “No tokens. I came away feeling defeated.” It was a quiet day, held for Tamil workers at Ooty, and the spiritual atmosphere was dull. Sometimes a splendid walk on the hills breaks into the record of Commentary work, and correspondence, and meetings: “With Miss Hopwood to Governor Shola, and back over Cairn Hill; grand blow and drizzle” — drizzle in Ooty in June meaning a light dust of rain from the sea which makes one feel in sea air again. But the journey home in the heat ended in something almost like illness: “Tired out,... very tired,... feeling the heat. Pain.”

It is not the only time the journal writes the word: “My pain. My pain again. My old pain.” The words occur too frequently. Right through the years, from the first year in India, he who was so keen to feel with all in pain was often in pain himself. He called his trouble by various names, and took little notice of it, only yielding to it when it was absolutely impossible to hold out for another hour. Few knew anything about it. Fewer still, that it discovered a tendency to one of the most acutely painful diseases the human frame can be called to endure. He was spared by his quick translation what might have slowly fastened upon him; but now that he is gone, it need not be longer hidden that the sympathy which so often strengthened others and helped to tide them over some season of suffering, was fruit of silent experience in the private ways of pain.

But let no one imagine a sufferer of a pensive frame of mind, visibly afflicted; things were entirely otherwise: “Listen to this,” he said, one evening, bringing Matthew Arnold to dinner, with a twinkle in his eye, familiar forerunner of something good; and he read aloud with relish:

“I ask not that my bed of death
From bands of greedy heirs be free;
For these besiege the latest breath
Of fortune’s favour’d sons, not me.

“Spare me the whispering, crowded room,
The friends who come, and gape, and go;
The ceremonious air of gloom — All, which makes death a hideous show!

“Nor bring, to see me cease to live,
Some doctor full of phrase and fame,
To shake his sapient head, and give
The ill he cannot cure a name.”

The rest of the poem was not food for laughter, but those three verses had interjection marks down their margins. Again, upon a later evening he regaled the family upon this from the Book of Ecclesiasticus, which he was then translating:

“Honour a physician according to thy need of him with the honours due

unto him:

For verily the Lord hath created him. For from the Most High cometh healing; and from the king he shall

receive a gift.

The skill of the physician shall lift up his head;
And in the sight of great men he shall be admired.
The Lord created medicines out of the earth;
And a prudent man will have no disgust at them.
Was not water made sweet with wood,
That the virtue thereof might be known?

Then give place to the physician, for verily the Lord hath created him; And let him not go from thee, for thou hast need of him. There is a time when in their very hands is the issue for good. For they also shall beseech the Lord,

That He may prosper them in giving relief and in healing for the maintenance of life.

He that sinneth before his Maker,
Let him fall into the hands of the physician.”

The climax or anti-climax was irresistible: “The irony of it! After cracking the doctors up to the skies, ‘Let him fall into the hands of the physician ‘!” Jokes which come back now with a sort of pang, but were pangless at the time, and show the light-hearted, almost boy-like abandon of a life which was strenuous enough and serious, but full of human brightness too.

September began with a struggle with fatigue; for there were various night disturbances, caused by the dogs in the Dohnavur village, which were suffering from an epidemic of barking. A disturbed night with him meant more than with many — exhaustion next day, and a tussle between his will and his feelings. Five such nights preceded the long tour of the autumn months, with their extremes of heat in the south and cold in the north.

“September 14. — Keached Madras, feeling dead tired. So hot. Spoke to Free Church Mission agents.

“September 15. — Thank God, much better night in spite of heat. Preached in Zion Church. Very hot day. Spoke in the adjoining Free Church to large congregation.

“September 16. — Praise God for a good night. Tamil Congress week, Memorial Hall Bible-reading, 6 p.m. Spoke to crowded audience. Very hot in speaking. Oh for power! Throat a little uneasy.”

The journal notes through the week are like those so often written before; for no outward sign of prosperity, no refinement of education, not even the true kindness, heart-refreshing though it was, of many of the Indian friends in Madras could satisfy the one who had come among them now. Only as souls he saw the Christians of Madras; and he longed over them as he had longed over the multitudes in Maramana or the sleeping churches of his own province:

“Give me a voice, a cry and a complaining — Oh, let my sound be stormy in their ears!
Throat that would shout, but cannot stay for straining;
Eyes that would weep, but cannot wait for tears.”

It was his prayer there as everywhere.

“Spoke on Hosea ii. 14-27. Feeling so much the need of love and unction, with such a solemn subject before me to-night. Large crowds, but oh for Thy salvation!... Feeling some burden. A good many stayed behind, but came home feeling it a failure. God forgive. Good deal of simultaneous prayer among the women, some among the men; but oh for God to arise! Evening, crowded hall and many professions, but many unmoved. Very intense after-meeting, with a spontaneous stream of dedications.... Last meeting more than packed; a number stood up for surrender, but majority not. Lord, cleanse! Woke up with bad throat. Thank God, it has stood the strain of last week. Service at Zion Church. Spoke with husky difficulty.” And thus concludes the Congress work: “7/ors de combat with throat.”

Fortunately for himself he fell into the hands of the physician, and kind, strong hands they were. So as for once it was a case of inability no will-power could overcome, doctor’s orders were obeyed:

“Dr. Macphail [of the United Free Church Mission] wrote to forbid my speaking again this week, so had to write to Ewing [of the Y.M.C.A.] to that effect. What wilt Thou have me to do? All is well, whether in speech or silence.”

There were many visitors through those days — Syrian Christian students studying in Madras, Tinnevelly friends resident there, and sometimes Hindu enquirers. The home burden was shared, as always, even during tours; for it was part of life, not an extraneous thing. “Anxious news from Dohnavur about little C. God help them!” At last, on September 30th, the record scribble in an evidently very shaky train is: “En route for Lucknow.” Three days later: “Throat still under par; Lord, help.” The throat had not got complete rest; for a travelling companion was without Christ, and it was impossible to be wholly silent. “Lord, save him!” is the journal note as the travellers part company. But a good night and a day’s rest at Lucknow worked wonders:

“Evening to Residency, where an old chowkidar, who wore Kabul and Kandahar medals, took me round. The place full of interest; stood where Lawrence was shot, stood by his grave, and those of other brave soldiers. God make us faithful in such a blood-bought land!”

Then followed the mission:

“Lord, visit us! Good congregation. Oh for the Spirit’s work!... Large congregation; very still, but oh for God to work! Good deal of burden to-day. Lunch with the Z.B.M. ladies. Their sympathy and prayer helped me much.... Crowded church, with a goodly number of professions and confession-prayers. Spoke on Rev. iii. 20. Response afterwards disappointing. Oh, it seems only to have scratched the surface! Lord, cleanse. Dinner with the Gray family, nice, quiet, helpful. Spoke on Heb. ii. 3. Felt it a dead failure, and was ashamed before God.... Workers’ meeting, some real feeling in meeting. Closing meeting, stream of thanksgiving.”

And so the record runs day after day, for spiritual warfare is no child’s play:

“God is speaking, but oh for greater things than these! Don’t feel there is much power in the meetings. Lord, quicken me. Feeling deadness all around, especially in myself” [these entries follow a prolonged attack upon an entrenched position]: “Feeling so empty and needy. I came home defeated and disappointed.”

But his work was with his God.

“November 15. — Pohnavur at 6.30 a.m.; so glad to be back after nine weeks’ absence.” It was a happy home-coming. Miss Wade, then a new recruit to Dohnavur, whom he had met at Tuticorin and brought on with him, remembers how he slipped away just as the bandies reached the gate. He wanted her to have the whole of the welcome; so he stopped his bandy just outside the compound and got in quietly by the side gate. It was a little thing, but like him.

The remaining weeks were filled with home work, the correction of Tamil proofs, the setting of examination papers in theology, and the putting into shape notes upon the Acts with a view to another Commentary. “Making a sketch map for Philippians” is one entry, followed next day by “Made a fresh sketch map “; such details got the best that could be given to them. There was the usual preaching work, and camp occasionally; and there was much of all that is included in the comprehensive word “help.” Help to fellow-workers alongside, help of that nameless sort hardly perceived at the time, but missed when it is taken away. In the defeats and difficulties of a new work there was the strength of counsel and of sympathy:

“It’s sure to be hard,” he used to say, quoting a favourite word from Carlyle. “‘On the beaten road there is tolerable travelling, but there will be sore pain; and many will have to perish in fashioning a pass through the impassable” — for such in truth the work attempted seemed, and still seems to those engaged in “fashioning a pass.” “But never mind,” he would add, when the winds were even more than usually contrary, “let’s be like the Iceland ducks [whose spirits rise in a storm] and sing in the teeth of the blizzard!”

“O most glorious God, relieve my spirit with Thy graciousness; take from me all tediousness of spirit, and give me hope that shall not fail.”

JEREMY TAYLOR.

“There is a River the streams whereof shall make glad the City of God.”

“If only one can have courage and faith and patience to go on pouring toil into the indisputable ways of doing good, grinding away at the things that no one can fail to recognise as one’s duty, then as years go on, after a longish spell, one may look back and wonder to see how much has come about incidentally that one hardly thought of.”

BISHOP PAGET in a letter of 1894. (From his Biography by STEPHEN PAGET and J. M. 0. CRUM.)

1908]