“What time I am afraid, I will put my trust in Thee.”
THE first week in the April of the year 1900 we had the joy of welcoming to our station the veteran missionary, Mr. Alexander Grant (of Singapore and Amoy), who was returning to the coast from the provincial capital, rai-yüen Fu, where he had been visiting his married daughter and her husband, Dr. and Mrs. Lovitt, of the Sheo Iang Mission. He was accompanied by Mr. Hoddle, an independent worker in the city of T’ai-yüen. Though they had come from the capital, they had no evil tidings to bring us. Everything was, to all outward appearance, just as usual. How little we dreamed as we met together in happy fellowship what three months hence would have to reveal! Mr. Grant a refugee, barely escaping with his life and only with the loss of all his effects. Mr. Hoddle (together with Dr. and Mrs. Lovitt and some forty other foreign workers) beheaded and in a martyr’s grave. Our own station rioted, and ourselves stripped of all and in the hands of the Boxers The first intimation I had of the existence of such a movement was through my serving boy, Chu-rï, asking me (I think in February) to let him go home to Shan-tung to look after a small patrimony, which was, he said, being “threatened by the Ta Tao Huei.”
“And what may the Ta Tao Huei be?” I inquired.
“What! hasn’t the pastor heard of what is going en in Shan-tung? The ‘Guild of the Great Sword’ are looting the houses of the Christians, and even putting some to death.”
No, I had not heard it. I gave him leave of course to go, though of course also I took his statement with a grain of salt, as one learns involuntarily to do in China, and dismissed it from my mind. Little did I think how that expression “Ta Tao Huei,” which fell upon my ears then for the first time, was to be burned in anguish into my very soul.
Not long after this I received a circular letter from my friend Mr. Horace Houlding, who was pioneering in South Chih-li. It dealt at length and in the most serious strain with the doings of the Boxers and their appearance in the immediate neighborhood of his own Mission. One sentence went through me: “Who can tell whereunto this will grow?” and instinctively I felt the indefinable dread of the certainty that we too would be involved. I tried to put it from me, but the thought remained; and then I took it in secret to God and left it with Him.
Immediately after Mr. Grant and Mr. Hoddle had left us, I accompanied Dr. Julius Hewett (of the neighboring station of Yü-wu) on an itineration to Kaop’ing Hsien in the Tseh-cheo Prefecture. While preaching on the street of the south suburb of the city on the first evening of our arrival, voices in the crowd called out, “You foreigners won’t be here long. The Ta Tao Huei are going to kill you all. Look out!” Everything, however, on the journey was quiet, and a respectful hearing was very generally given to our message; and so we treated the remark as somewhat of an idle tale. But the words rang again in my ears, “Who can tell whereunto this will grow?” and in spite of myself the old forebodings came back upon me in force.
Later on I saw, in these occasional intimations, the mercy of God in preparing us for what was coming.
On May 28, we were visited by our beloved Deputy-Director, Mr. William Cooper, in the course of a systematic visitation of the Shan-si stations of our Mission. He was accompanied by Mr. David Barrett, of Iohlang. The news he brought from the west of the province confirmed the truth of the previous intimations. Yü-hsien had been installed in the Vice-royalty on April 18, and was doing his utmost to foster the movement in Shan-si. His emissaries were everywhere in evidence, recruiting in city, town and village; and the recruits were being drilled in broad daylight. More than this. Shortly before he (Mr. Cooper) reached Hung-tung Hsien (one of our stations) a murderous assault had been made by Boxers on one of the native leaders of the Church, Elder Si, and his house looted. Mr. Cooper felt that the outbreak was to be taken as an earnest of what the Church in every part of Shan-si might at any time now be subjected to. So strongly indeed was this impressed upon him, that his exhortations to the native Christians dealt almost exclusively with the subject of persecution, and were evidently designed to prepare them for the fiery trial that was to try them.
It is interesting to note how the same spirit had been leading us, in the ordinary meetings of the station routine, to follow the same line of teaching. We had been continually dwelling—my wife and Miss Gates with the women, and I with the men—on the possibility of persecution, and the need of readiness to follow the Lamb whithersoever He goeth. And this, when there was nothing specially to call it forth. The Lu-an district was perfectly quiet, and hitherto there had been nothing to indicate the approach of so awful a tempest. Mr. Cooper’s visit was the first premonition of the storm. Then it was that the little cloud like a man’s hand was, for the first time, clearly distinguishable upon our horizon.
Here I would turn aside for a moment to testify to what I saw and knew of the grace of God in His martyr-servant, Mr. William Cooper. It was my privilege to be present at his ministrations at all three stations—Yü-wu, Lu-an and Lu-ch’eng—from May 25 to June 4, and those ten days were one continuous exemplification of the words, “We preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake.” While visiting us as an overseer he yet exercised the oversight, not as lording it over the charge allotted to him, but making himself an ensample to the flock. He was before everything “our servant for Jesus’ sake.” If ever a disciple washed the feet of his brethren, it was Mr. Cooper. His own need was forgotten in the needs of others; and where he could be of any service to another for Jesus’ sake, he was ready at any time and at any personal cost.
If he was wearied out with the last long day’s journey of a weary week of traveling, he was still ready in the evening to take a Bible reading or lead a public meeting, as the occasion offered. Fervent in spirit, he was instant in season, out of season, serving the Lord. No one who saw it can forget the joy that would light up the tired face when, in answer to the inquiry, “But aren’t you feeling too tired?” he would reply, “Not too tired. Though I tire in the Lord’s service, I never tire of it, thank God.”
He seemed those last days much occupied with God. He sought to be alone when he could, and his manner generally was quiet and reflective. I was particularly struck with it in the cart journey we had together from Lu-an to Lu-ch’eng—the last he ever took in company with a “foreigner.” The sun was intensely hot, but he walked by preference, only taking a lift now and again, as he said, “for a change.” It was evident that he wished to be alone with God, in the secret of His Presence communing with Him. To be with him was to be conscious that he lived in an atmosphere of prayer—that he literally “drew breath in the fear of the Lord.” The intense personal love to the Saviour, that breathed, not only through his addresses, but through his whole conversation, was the outcome, one could not but realize, of a prayer-life, and the evidence of how truly his fellowship was with the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ.
His end was in harmony with the whole spirit of his life, the motto of which might truly be said to be, “And we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren.” Certainly he loved not his life unto the death. His ambition was to accomplish his course and the ministry he had received from the Lord Jesus, to testify the Gospel of the grace of God in China; and in the diligent pursuit of it he held not his life of any account as dear unto himself. Doubtless he experienced the same joy in laying down his life for his Lord in death that he had in laying it down for Him in the sacrifice of the daily life. And we are sure that with all boldness Christ was magnified in his body by death when the fatal stroke fell at Pao-ting Fu on July 1, not less than He would have been by life.
On Monday, June 4, Mr. Cooper left Lu-ch’eng for Shuen-teh Fu, en route for Tientsin and Shanghai. With a little company of native brethren we escorted him a short distance on foot. Then the farewell word, “The Lord be with you!” as he mounted his litter, and he was gone. Immediately afterward I rode back with Mr. Barratt to Lu-an.
The rain-processions had now begun. Such times are always fraught with a peculiar element of danger, and we could not but be conscious that every rainless day served to make our situation more critical. News of the official encouragement given to the Boxer movement in the province had found its way to our parts; and the attitude of the people was in consequence becoming bolder in its hostility. All this led us to a definite committal of ourselves and our way to the Lord. But not a thought crossed our minds of leaving the station. He who had interposed on our behalf so marvelously the year before was “the Same today,” and we rested on His love and faithfulness.
The following night, June 5, we had retired as usual, when between 12 and 1 o’clock a.m. we were roused from sleep by the noise of a rain-procession nearing our premises on the main north street. A sufficiently dreadful sound at any time, but awful in the dead of night. In the semi-consciousness of the awaking it came upon the senses as a hideous nightmare, until one was alive to the truth of it. We held our breath as we heard by the sounding gong and the thump of the drum beating out the monotonous measure that they were opposite, and had halted. Then the terror of clamorous cursings; and next, the battering of the gate and a volley of stones and brick-bats flung over the roof of the outer buildings into the courtyard, where our own quarters were. There was no time to be lost. Our hearts went up to God as we hurriedly dressed, expecting each moment would see the gate broken in. Just as we were preparing to take the children from their beds, suddenly the volleying and battering ceased, the procession resumed its march, and the terrifying noise of curses, gongs and drums drew away. Only, however, to pass to the south quarter of the buildings, where our native helpers were sleeping. Here a prolonged and determined attack was delivered, but again the same Hand that had restrained their wrath on our side of the compound held them back, and at length they withdrew, shouting threats of revenge should the drought continue. Again with fervent thanksgiving we committed ourselves to the keeping of our Father, and once more lay down.
It was now about 2 a.m., but for me there was ne more sleep. I lay awake, partly to keep watch, in the expectation that the rioters might return, and partly that I might seek the mind of the Lord, as to how to act in the new circumstances. It is not too much to say that I agonized in prayer for the clear knowledge of His will.
For the situation was one of peculiar trial and difficulty, owing to the fact that my wife was within three months of her confinement. If we remained, a period of severe nervous tension was before us, as they were the months, par excellence, during which rain was wanted and ardently looked for; and meantime, if the drought continued, the popular excitement would be growing more intense every day. Any hour during those three months we might expect a similar attack, day or night, to the one we had experienced; and in all probability sooner or later the threats of vengeance would be carried out to the letter. Was I justified in exposing her to such a strain, not of days merely, but of weeks and months? Ought I not to avail myself of the permission already given us by the Mission authorities to go for a needed rest to Che-foo, and take her there without delay until the drought crisis was passed? If so, then no time was to be lost; for the hot season had set in, and it was already full late for taking the road. But then, what about the native church? And what about our sister Miss Gates, who would thus be left alone in circumstances of strain and peril?
I need only to mention a few such thoughts to show how my mind was torn with distress and conflict. But in the multitude of my thoughts within me God’s comforts delighted my soul I sought the Lord and He heard me, and delivered me from my fears. As the morning broke the burden was taken off me, and I had the clearest conviction of my duty. I knew that it was right before God that I should take her away to Che-foo without delay.
The thought of leaving was naturally distressing to my dear wife, and the undertaking so serious, from every point of view, that we both felt we should wait unitedly upon God for His definite confirmation of the thought. This we did privately together, and also in union with Miss Gates and Mr. Barratt, who was visiting us that week. These both concurred in the belief that the thing was of God, and my wife was willing to accept it as His choice for her. When we further found that both our devoted evangelist, Uang Chi-fah, and my wife’s trusted helper, Mrs. Chang, at, once and without hesitation expressed their readiness to accompany us—a sign we had asked of God—all doubt was for her, as for me, at an end; and we began forthwith to make our preparations.
It was with the greatest shrinking and difficulty that we could bring ourselves to a decision which would leave Miss Gates alone in a precarious situation. Whichever way one looked, the whole position involved a complication which only God could deal with. I could only see one of two courses open to her—either to come with us, leaving the station for the time being in the hands of our native overseer Elder Liu; or to join our fellow-workers at the sister station of Lu-ch’eng, only fifteen miles distant. To both of these Miss Gates conscientiously demurred, the persuasion that there was no sufficient reason in her case for leaving the station at all. She said if further trouble arose she would seek the protection of the Yamen, but more than this she did not feel justified in doing. It was a conspicuous instance of courage, fidelity and self-devotion, possible only per, haps to those who know their God.
To this neither my wife nor I would consent. We said that we felt we could only be free to go forward in the will of God on the understanding that as soon as she saw signs of further trouble she would leave forthwith and take up her residence at Lu-ch’eng, in compliance with Mr. E. J. Cooper’s kindly expressed hope. We begged her also to make an interchange of visits with Miss Rice and Miss Huston, to break the sense of loneliness.
The pledge was given, and every serious difficulty in the way of our leaving was thus taken out of the way. Nevertheless, our hearts were very heavy, not so much with presage of evil to befall us by the way, for I had no doubt that the road to Tientsin was safe, and that with Mr. William Cooper just ahead of us on the same road, we, no less than he, would with the help of God get safely through. But to be leaving the little church at all, even though it were only for a few months as we hoped and believed, was a deep trial; and especially so in view of the difficulties created by the prospect of famine, and even it might be of persecution. And then the pain of saying farewell to our sister and valued helper, knowing as we did (and yet we never could know all) the loneliness of the path she was taking in obedience to her Lord. Yes, our hearts were heavy indeed as we put our house in order. It was truly for us the beginning of sorrows. How well I remember my last message to the native brethren, as we met for worship for the last time ere our departure: “Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in Me.” It was the word of the Lord to my own soul first. The only thing that could sustain pastor or people in such an hour was the knowledge that the Lord of Life was in the midst, that Great Shepherd of the sheep; that God had given Him to be Head over all things to the Church; and that, come what might, living or dying, we were the Lord’s.