Through the dim vision of accumulated ages, Africa, the land of isolation and mystery, has ever been one of the most fascinating continents on the earth's surface. Centuries before the Christian era, before the foundations of Carthage were laid, men have sought to look into the secrets of the Dark Continent, and unravel the enigmas, which have so long remained hidden and veiled in the endless forests and rolling lands of her immense interior. It is an awe-inspiring experience to pass through this up till now unknown land, and look into the faces of unusual natives, who, in primitive nudity or clad in red ocher and castor oil, wander in myriads among its delightful glades and leafy forests. How incredibly great has been the sacrifice of life, which the interior of Africa has ever ruthlessly demanded as her rightful fee from those explorers who have sought to unlock her mysteries, and those who carry to her native sons and daughters the message of the regenerating gospel of Jesus Christ. Even of those who have been able in the providence of God to return back to civilization, very few have come out unhurt from the harsh climate and isolated conditions, which prevail in the midst of her native wilds.
After our twenty five years of missionary effort in the equatorial regions of Africa, one is not inclined to look with much favor upon book-writing, especially when suffering from broken down health and shattered nerves. Yet due to the continued and personal requests of many Christian friends, united with the assurance that my Savior may be honored by my humble testimony, I enter upon the task of presenting to the public in this book but a tithe of the varied experiences of my husband and myself in the heart of Africa, where God's wonderful providences may, as at home, be witnessed by those who seek to know and do His will.
In my childhood's days, which were spent on the eastern border of the County of Down, I had little idea that it would ever fall to my lot to enter the unopened regions of that wonderful continent.
My father belonged to an English family who had settled in Ireland, and my mother was a descendant of the ancient Macgynnises, who, with the O'Neills, reigned and ruled for a lengthened period in the northern part of the Island. Some of their descendants afterward changed the name to Guiness. My father died when I was three years of age. When the coffin lid was about to be screwed down over his earthly remains, I remember being lifted up to give him a farewell kiss. From my mother's bedroom window, I saw his funeral procession leave the house, but no tears came to my childish eyes, for my mind was not then capable of realizing the great and incalculable loss I had sustained. As years passed by I began to feel, with increasing intensity, the irreparable grief of my childhood.
My mother was a member of the Presbyterian Church, but like many other loving indulgent mothers, she was timid about speaking to her children of personal religion and the necessity of a regeneration of heart. She relegated that duty to the Minister, who never performed it in my case, and so I grew up a foolish, giddy, worldly girl.
When I was about sixteen years of age, I heard preached for the first time, as far as I can remember, the gospel of the grace of God. I was on a visit in the home of a lady and gentleman in the north of Ireland. One of their daughters, I found, had been recently converted to God at a meeting conducted by some Plymouth Brethren, who were preaching in a building nearby. Under these new and unexpected conditions in the family life of my host and hostess I felt most miserable, and desired to get away as soon as possible from the unpleasant surroundings. However, the young lady and her sister pressed me to go to the meetings, and I very reluctantly agreed to go with them.
The preaching was very personal, and not at all to my liking. After the meeting was over, a young medical doctor—one of the Brethren—escorted us home. While on the way, he tried to convince me that I was on the downward pathway. Judging, he said, from the feathers in my hat, he considered me to be a slave of fashion, and showed me the desirability of wearing only that which was useful, and casting aside those things which were merely ornamental and worldly. I replied as best I could, asking him to what useful purpose were the two buttons on the back of his frock-coat. He did not seem capable of giving a satisfactory answer to my question, and gave me up, I presume, as a hopeless case. Nevertheless, a shaft of truth had entered my heart, and I realized that I was not what I should be.
After my return from this visit, I tried to forget the warning message which I had heard, and followed my course of ordinary church going and living for the world at the same time. I was opposed to all out-and-out faithfulness, and yet oftentimes, in my more thoughtful moments, I wished that I might truly know God and be prepared to enter into His presence. Some time passed by without coming into contact with anyone who offered me light on this subject.
A lady friend of mine told me, one day, that a young gentleman was staying at their house, and she would like me to come for an evening and have an opportunity of making his acquaintance. I agreed to do so, though if I had known I was going to be laid hold of for Missionary work, I should have been quite unwilling to accept of the invitation. However, I went, and there met the young man, who, in the providence of God, was afterward to be my husband.
During that evening, our conversation turned upon religious subjects; and, as I related my former experience with the medical doctor, who was a preacher among the Plymouth Brethren, I could see that the young gentleman to whom I had been introduced was quite concerned about my spiritual darkness. He took the opportunity of coming home with me that evening, and sought to lead me to a knowledge of Jesus Christ as my Savior. He related to me very graphically the story of his own conversion, and told me that, although he had been an atheist, God had saved him in a moment, when he gave his heart up to Jesus and accepted Him as his own personal Redeemer. His conversation made a wonderful impression upon me, and shortly afterward I was brought to a knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ as my Savior.
My husband's conversion was even more remarkable than my own. He was the son of God-fearing parents, whose Scottish ancestors were kindred to James Watt of steam engine fame, who had settled in Ulster in the eighteenth century. They were members of the Church of Ireland, and sought according to their light to train him in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. After leaving school he was sent away to business. At nineteen years of age, he was commercial traveler for one of the leading wholesale teahouses in Belfast, being the youngest, as well as one of the most successful travelers to be met with in the commercial rooms of the hotels in Ireland. Being naturally of a very sociable disposition and exceedingly open and blunt in conversation, he formed friendships very easily. Early in his business life, a very close affection sprung up between him and a man who was a very strong promoter of infidelity, and who wickedly led him to consider atheism. However, one of those amazing providences of God, which we so often thoughtlessly look upon as mere commonplace incidents, was about to take place, and change the whole course and purpose of his life.
In his school days his main friend was a boy named Matthew Kennedy. They were of one mind when any misbehavior was to be perpetrated, and they helped each other in all the schoolboy pranks of the day. Matthew was eventually led to take up a business career in the United States. After a short stay in America, where the Lord met with him and saved him, he returned to the place of his birth, and the whole countryside was soon ringing with the news that Matthew Kennedy was converted to God. He began holding Gospel meetings, and speaking personally to people along the way about their spiritual state before God. My husband, then a single young man, heard the news of his old schoolmate, and his first exclamation was, "I don't want to see him; I can have nothing to do with such hypocrites."
However, one day, on his way to the local railway station, he had circumstance to pass by Matthew Kennedy's home, and, just as he was congratulating himself upon getting past without seeing his former school companion, he heard footsteps behind him, and a voice, with a slight American accent, calling out, "Hello! Stuart! How are you?" He turned and confronted Matthew Kennedy, scanning the convert critically from head to foot. The stranger from America had no "horns" on him! the same free manner; the same twinkle in the eye; but—there was a change! A fuller expression of care was visible, and uppermost in his mind were the interests of the Kingdom of the Christ who was now his everlasting Savior. In his heart there welled up a love, which is not begotten of this world, and a calm, which can only be Heaven-born, rested upon his countenance. The two old schoolmates had a short conversation together, and then the "convert" laid his hand lovingly on the shoulder of his friend, and said, "Stuart, since I went to America I gave myself up to Jesus, and He has pardoned my sins and changed my heart, and I am now on my way to Heaven, and I want you to come with me. Won't you come?" The indefinite reply was, "Matthew, I am very glad to have met with you, and I thank you for your interest in my welfare, but it is near my train time and I must be going. Good-bye!"—and so the two shook hands and parted.
As my husband passed away from the presence of that young man, he realized in his inmost soul that there was a transforming power in faith, of which, up to that moment, he had been entirely ignorant; and he determined to do his utmost to find out how that power might be experienced in his own life. For twelve months he inquired from all classes of men professing religion, whom he met in hotels and railway trains, as to how a man might obtain a change of heart and know his sins forgiven. All alike were questioned, whether Methodist preachers, clergymen of the Church of England, or Roman Catholic priests. At this stage he was greatly influenced by a sermon he heard preached by the late Rev. John White, in the Congregational Church, Donegal Street, Belfast. It was the first time in his life he had entered a nonconformist place of worship. The speech, based on the words, "How long halt ye between two opinions?" made an clear impression upon his mind.
After a year's anxious thought upon the subject, he had the privilege of attending the first meetings held in Belfast by that faithful man of God, Dwight Lyman Moody, and was very much impressed by his plain, blunt, unceremonious presentation of the Gospel of Christ. On the second night of Moody's meetings, in Rosemary Street Church, on September the 7th, 1874, he went with the determination of having a conversation with Moody about some of the difficulties which had so long troubled him, vowing, in his own mind, that if the question of his salvation were not settled that night he would give the matter up forever. When he arrived at the Church he found it full, and hundreds of people surging around the doors in disappointment. He waited outside while the meeting was in progress, during which time his skeptical views were coming to mind, and playing havoc with his resolutions to seek salvation. However, this was to be his last and final night of inquiry.
When the doors of the Church were reopened, he heard the strong voice of Moody, intimating, that men who wished to be spoken to about their personal salvation, were to go to a certain schoolroom, and women to another part of the building. Hoping to have the opportunity speaking face to face with Moody and having his difficulties cleared away, he proceeded to the appointed place. Moody, however, seemed to be busy, and a boy of not more than sixteen years sat down beside him instead, with his fingers in a partially opened Bible. Although my husband was only a young man of twenty at the time, he was quite annoyed, and refused to listen to this younger man. Passage after passage of Scripture was quoted of which my husband took no notice. Then, in a meek and humble manner the boy said, "Sir, did you ever realize that God loves you?" This message came as a bolt from Heaven, and the seeker for the first time was forced to answer, "No! I never did." "Well," said the boy, "God loves you!" He then read the sixteenth verse of the third chapter of the Gospel by John, "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life; "and added, "Won't you receive and believe the message that God loves you? "He then turned to the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah, and read, "All we like sheep have gone astray, we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on Him (the Messiah), the iniquity of us all." The reply was, "I cannot believe that all my sins were laid on Jesus." "Well," he said, "that is God's message to you, that Christ bore your sins in His own body on the tree." He then read from the thirty-sixth verse of the third chapter of John. "He that believeth on the Son hath eternal life, but he that believeth not the Son shall not see life but the wrath of God abides on him;” and, he added, "Won't you believe that Christ is your Savior—the One who bare your sins?" There was a pause; and then, fully resting upon God's word, there came a clear and definite reply, "I will."
My husband rose from his seat, took the boy by the hand and thanked him. As he passed towards the door of the schoolroom, Moody, who had just finished speaking to some young men, extended his arms to their full length at the doorway, and said to my husband, "My young man have you accepted of Christ tonight?" and the response came, "Yes! I have." He went into that meeting determined to see Moody, and Moody only, to discuss and clear up doubts and difficulties; but God met him through the person of that young, faithful boy, proving that God chooses at times the weak things of the world to accomplish his mighty purposes.
Immediately after his conversion, he told the family, with whom he was staying, of the change that God had wrought in his heart, and in a fortnight's (two weeks) time every member of the household was converted to God. To his father he then wrote a simple straightforward letter regarding his conversion, but in the reply there was no reference made to that particular subject. His father was one of the most upright of men, highly respected by all classes of society, and one who was a constant attendant at the services of the Church of Ireland. Yet it could only be said of him, as of tens of thousands of ‘churchgoers’, he had never experienced the new birth.
After a short time my husband went home for a few days, and told his parents, brothers and sisters what God had done for him, urging them to an immediate decision and acceptance of the Gospel. God blessed the faithful testimony of the young convert, and a sister, and then a brother accepted salvation from God as a free gift. In a short time the whole family were converted to God, the last one being that loving and indulgent father.
My husband rejoiced daily more and more in his newly found Savior, and, as he traveled on railway trains and mingled with fellow travelers in the commercial rooms of the hotels throughout the country, he found great joy in humbly testifying to the power of Christ to save unto the uttermost all who would come unto Him. The work of a large Bible class of young men was taken up every Sunday, and many of these were led to a knowledge of Jesus as their Savior, and some of them became evangelists and successful soul-winners in later years.
Shortly after his conversion, his attention was seriously turned to the Mission field, and for several years he desired to go out with the message of the Gospel to those who had never heard, but his parents did not then approve of him going away to a foreign land, so he postponed the matter for future consideration.
On the fifth anniversary of the day on which I first met Stuart Watt, he and I were married in Carlisle Memorial Church, Belfast, Ireland. We spent some time in visiting those districts of our native land, which are famed for their beautiful and romantic scenery, and then came to our new home, where everything that could minister to comfort and happiness had been provided by the thoughtful and loving care of the one to whom I was now joined for life.
The call to the Mission field came louder and still louder as the days passed by. My husband then took the opportunity of obtaining my definite views on the subject of going out to the heathen, with that message of love and pardon which had brought salvation into our own lives. The matter was freely talked about among our friends, and the proposal was met with considerable opposition. One loving friend said to me quite affectionately, "My dear, if you break up this comfortable home you will never have one like it again." I must say that, for my part, I had greater faith in my Savior’s promises than in these words of my best loved earthly relatives.
Our purposes regarding the Mission field were told to the late Rev. R. W. Stewart, C.M.S. Missionary, who with his wife and children were afterward murdered in China in the Boxer Rebellion, and he placed our ideas before the committee of the Church Missionary Society. After the usual examinations had been passed, we were accepted by the Society, and appointed to work in East Equatorial Africa. We both felt intensely the great responsibility of our undertaking, but the burden was very much lightened by the assurance that we had a definite message from God to deliver to the lost. We were determined to know nothing among them save Jesus Christ and Him crucified.
Some people think that any person with a fair show of religion, a form of godliness, and a reasonable ability for acquiring a foreign language, is properly prepared for the foreign Mission field. But, how can men and women deliver the message of the regenerating Gospel of the Grace of God if they have never been regenerated themselves? How can they lead a native to a knowledge of sins forgiven through the precious blood of Christ, if they have never had that sin cleansing blood applied to their own soul? How can they be witnesses to the lost ones of the value and glory of the gospel of Jesus Christ, if they are uncertain as to their own state before God?