Hudson Taylor's Spiritual Secrets

We have had another typhoon, so to speak, not as prolonged as the literal one nearly two years ago, but at least equally dangerous to our lives and more terrible while it lasted. I believe God will bring his own glory out of this experience, and I hope it will tend to the furtherance of the gospel. The negotiations were long and difficult before the Yangzhou house was repaired and the missionaries permitted to return. But when they did, they received quite a reception, and it was with thankfulness that Hudson was able to write. The results of this case will in all probability greatly facilitate work in the interior. But it may have been the family life and friendly spirit of the missionaries that gradually disarmed suspicion. Actions speak louder than words, and neighbors had something to think over when the children were brought back after all that had happened and when they learned that Maria was about to give birth again. Despite the terror of their earlier exit from the city, she wrote to Mrs. Berger on their return to Yangzhou saying, In this again God has given me the desire of my heart, for I thought that if safety to my infant permitted it, I would rather it were born in this city, in this house, in this very room than in any other place. Your own beautiful home not accepted in which I've been so tenderly cared for, and the comforts and luxuries of which I know so well how to appreciate. The arrival of a fourth son to Maria and Hudson indeed was a testimony to their Yangzhou neighbors. So was the speedy recovery of all who had been injured in the riot. As a result, the innkeeper who had first received them in the city, and two others who had dared much to befriend them during the riot, soon confessed belief in Christ and became candidates for baptism. With great relief, Hudson and Maria assumed that the Yangzhou incident was over and done with. But that assumption, too, turned out to be wrong. 1868-69 During the turbulent summer in Yangzhou, Hudson sent a verbal message to the British consul to inform him of the danger the missionaries faced. And shortly after that, he sent a short note about his fears for the group's safety and the threats to their lives. Though he called for no protection and expected none, word of the mistreatment of the China Inland Mission staff at Yangzhou triggered an international brouhaha that was to bring the two nations to the verge of war and severely threaten the ministry of the China Inland Mission. Despite the recent treaty between the two countries that supposedly allowed anyone with a British passport to travel freely throughout China and take up residence anywhere in the country, British government officials and British merchants, as well as missionaries, regularly met with local opposition and sometimes outright hostility when they ventured beyond the original five treaty ports. Ever since the treaty had been signed, there had been a steady stream of complaints to the British consul that in many parts of the country the Chinese were abiding by neither the letter nor the spirit of the treaty. At word of the unrest and threat to British missionaries in Yangzhou, the consul, evidently waiting for just such an excuse, decided that the time had come to settle the issue once and for all. Citing the reprehensible treatment of their nation's subjects in Yangzhou, British officials in China, on instruction from the foreign office in London, seized that occasion to demand that China abide by the treaty. To back their demands made on the Chinese government in Peking, the British fleet made a show of force. By the time, though, that reports of British demands and accounts of the accompanying sabre-rattling reached London, a new government in England had replaced the one which had encouraged the aggressive policies in China. The new leaders in Parliament denounced the former government's China policy, and the loyal British press, half a world away and unable to check its facts, launched a bitter public attack on the missionaries who'd brought this nation to the brink of war. The press accused the mission of demanding the protection of British gunboats in their campaigns to get the Chinese people to change their religion at the mouth of the cannon and point of the bayonet. For months, the China controversy raged in Parliament and on the front pages of British newspapers. Quite naturally, Mr. Burger at the home office of the China Inland Mission was pressed for an official response. But as he had heard nothing from the tailors about an appeals made to the British Council for help, he could give no defense on behalf of the mission. He had to send inquiries to China asking for details and then wait months for an answer to return. Meanwhile, public criticism of the mission and Hudson Taylor's leadership spread throughout England. This most recent news from China caused some financial supporters to stop giving to the China Inland Mission. Maria Taylor, writing to relieve her husband, sent a long letter to the Burgers explaining all that had happened in Yangzhou. Concluding that letter, she said, As to the harsh judging of the world or the poor painful misunderstandings of Christian brethren, we generally feel that the best plan is to go on with our work and leave it to God to vindicate our cause. But it is right that you should know intimately how we have acted and why. I would suggest, however, that it would be undesirable to print the fact that Mr. Medhurst, the Council General, and through him, Sir Rutherford Alcock, took the matter up with application from us. The new ministry at home censors those out here for the policy which the late ministry enjoined upon them. It would be ungenerous and ungrateful were we to render their position still more difficult by throwing all the onus, so to speak, on them. By this time, Hudson, through his own negotiations, had managed to resettle the mission at Yangzhou. As to the storm that continued back in England, there was nothing to do but pray and wait for the criticism to die down. In March, the Yangzhou matter stirred passionate debate in the House of Lords, where the Duke of Somerset went so far as to propose that all British missionaries be brought back from China before they cause any more trouble. And a concerned Mr. Berger wrote to tell Hudson, You can scarcely imagine what an effect it is producing in the country. Thank God I can say none of these things have moved me. I believe he has called us to this work, and it is not for us to run away from or allow difficulties to overcome us. Be of good courage. The battle is the Lord's. At the same time, this storm of criticism sprang up at home. Another long brewing crisis came to a head within the mission in China. The small group of missionaries who complained of Hudson's leadership and policies from the beginning had recently created more trouble by giving up their Chinese dress and subsequently getting expelled from that city where they were stationed. Hudson and Maria had graciously accepted them back at their own station, but when they still refused to take up Chinese dress and continued to oppose Hudson's leadership, he finally, with sadness, asked for their resignations. Though all but that handful of dissenters backed Hudson's decision, the malcontents accounted the problem when it reached England, only added to the controversy and prompted even more supporters to reconsider their giving. This thrust the small mission into a state of crisis both at home and in China. Hudson felt the strain and wrote home asking his friends, Pray for us. We need much grace. You cannot conceive the daily calls there are for patience, for forbearance, for tact in dealing with the many difficulties and misunderstandings that are rise among so many persons of different nationality, language and temperament. Pray the Lord ever to give me the single eye, the clear judgment, the wisdom and gentleness, the patient spirit, the unwavering purpose, the unshaken faith, the Christlike love needed for the efficient discharge of my duties. And ask him to send us sufficient means and suitable helpers for the great work which we have yet barely commenced. Despite the conflict and turmoil, the mission staff in China continued its pioneer evangelism in new territory. Even before the Yangzhou matters were settled and the mission returned there, Hudson had taken an important journey up the Grand Canal to a city from which he hoped to reach the northern provinces. And James Meadows had left his work at Ningpo to others that he might lead in advance into the first inland province western, from, or westward, from Qingyang on Hui, where there lived 20 million Chinese people without a single Protestant missionary. But instead of the increasing number of missionaries and the additional finances that they'd been praying for to expand their work, the controversy at home drastically cut the financial resources the home office was able to send. Their prayers had to be answered in another totally unexpected way. There lived a penniless man in England at the time, a man literally with no more resources than the birds of the air or lilies of the field, who was already supporting a family of 2,000 orphaned children without a cent of endowment, without an appeal of any kind for help, without even letting their wants be known to anyone but the Father in Heaven. George Mueller and his faith had for years been an inspiration to Hudson Taylor and to many others. In addition to the demands of his own great work in Bristol, George Mueller had always contributed to direct missionary work overseas. He regularly prayed for funds which he could use to help support the work of various missions in China and elsewhere. He'd been contributing regularly and generously to Hudson Taylor's work for several years, but no sooner had the Yangtze Riot taken place, long before the news could have ever reached England, than George Mueller felt led to send extra money to the China Inland Mission. Within a day or two of the riot, he wrote to Mr. Berger asking for the names of other additional members of the mission whom he might add to his list for ministry and prayer. Mr. Berger sent him six names from which to choose, and his choice was to take them all. And that next year, when the shortness of funds in China were being most seriously felt, Mr. Mueller wrote again, increasing his support. While that letter was still on its way, Hudson wrote to one of the mission workers, over a thousand pounds less has been contributed during the first half of this financial year than last. I do not keep a cook now. I find it cheaper to have cooked food brought in from an eating house at a dollar a head per month. Let us pray in faith for funds that we may not have to diminish our work. Always more than willing to diminish his own comforts, Hudson intended never to diminish our work. Within days, he received George Mueller's letter, which said, My dear brother, the work of the Lord in China is more and more laid on my heart, and hence I've been longing and praying to be able to assist it more and more with means as well as with prayer. Of late, I have especially had a desire to help all the dear brethren and sisters with you and with pecuniary means. This I desired especially that they might see that I was interested in them personally. This my desire the Lord has now fulfilled. The eleven checks enclosed were for all the members of the mission. Mr. Mueller had not previously been supporting. Another letter from Mr. Berger arrived in the same mail. Mr. Mueller, after due consideration, has requested the names of all the brethren and sisters connected with the CIM as he thinks it well to send help as he is able to each one, unless we know of anything to hinder. Surely the Lord knew that our funds were sinking and thus put it into the heart of his honored servant to help. It wasn't just the money George Mueller sent that encouraged them, though Mr. Mueller's donations to the China Inland Mission over the next several years amounted to $10,000 annually, exactly the amount the mission's income had declined in the wake of the Yangzhou controversy. It was knowing that this great man of faith was praying for their needs that made his gifts all the more encouraging. His words had bolstered the missionaries when he told them in the letter he sent with the first checks, My chief objective is to tell you that I love you in the Lord, and that I feel deeply interested about the Lord's work in China, and that I pray daily for you. I thought it might be a little encouragement to you in your difficulties and your trials and hardships and disappointments, to hear of one more who feels for you and who remembers you before the Lord. If were it otherwise, had you even no one to care for you, or did you at least seem to be in a position as if no one did care for you, you will always have the Lord to be with you. Remember Paul's case at Rome, 2 Timothy 4, verses 16 to 18. Quote, On him then reckon, to him look, to him depend, and be assured that if you walk with him, look to him and expect help from him, he will never fail you. An older brother who has known the Lord for 44 years, who writes this, says for your encouragement that he has never failed him. In the greatest difficulties, in the heaviest trials, in the deepest poverty and necessities, he has never failed me. But because I was enabled by his grace to trust him, he has always appeared for my help. I delight in speaking well of his name. Such words were greatly needed by Hudson Taylor himself. While outwardly he appeared a solid rock, an inspiration to faith for all his young colleagues, the strain of responsibility grew heavier and heavier. Though reports of wonderful progress at new station after station heartened him, the burden of the growing work weighed on his mind and heart. He couldn't seem to shake the deep inner depression that deprived him of any sense of peace. Early in 1869, he exposed his heart and his hurt in a letter to his parents. I have often asked you to remember me in prayer. And when I have done so, there has been much need of it. The need has never been greater than at present. Envied by some, despised by many, hated by others, often blamed for things I never heard of or had nothing to do with, an innovator on what have become established rules of missionary practice, an opponent of mighty systems of heathen error and superstition, working without precedent in many respects and with few experienced helpers, often sick in body, and embarrassed by circumstances, had not the Lord been specially gracious to me, had not my mind been sustained by the conviction that the work is his and that he is with me in what so no empty figure to call the thick of the conflict, I must have fainted or broken down. But the battle is the Lord's and he will conquer. We may fail, do fail continually, but he never fails. Still, I need your prayers, more than ever. My position becomes continually more and more responsible and my need greater of special grace to fill it. But I have continually to mourn that I follow at such a distance and learn so slowly to imitate my precious master. I cannot tell you how I'm buffeted sometimes by temptation. I never knew how bad a heart I have. Yet I do know that I love God and love his work and desire to serve him only and in all things. And I value above all else that precious savior in whom alone I can be accepted. Often I'm tempted to think that one so full of sin cannot be a child of God at all. But I try to throw it back and rejoice all the more in the preciousness of Jesus and the riches of the grace that has made us accepted in the beloved. Beloved, he is of God. Beloved, he ought to be of us. But oh, how short I fall again. May God help me to love him more and serve him better. Do pray for me. Pray that the Lord will keep me from sin, will sanctify me wholly, will use me more largely in his service. Despite a faith that had brought him around the world to lead a mission into China, Hudson Taylor had never felt so inadequate and he never desired God's help more. 1869 Months passed. Hudson kept constantly on the move, his time divided mostly between the mission's two semi-official headquarters in Xinjiang, where the mission's printing press was located, and Yangzhou, while with his rapidly growing Chinese church. Summer yet brought another bout of serious illness that weakened Hudson for over a month. He hadn't even regained his strength before he embarked on yet another strenuous journey up the canal to provide medical help for Mr. Judd, who was dangerously ill himself. The Gordons, who were stationed at Zhaozhu, came to consult with him about problems in their work. And the Duncans were on their way from Nanking for a special strategy session with the leader of the mission. Hudson had never felt so worn out, pressured, or discouraged. He clung desperately to the end of his physical, emotional, and spiritual rope. Amid a pile of mail on Hudson's desk, when he finally got back to Xinjiang, was a letter from his young friend and colleague, John McCarthy, written from the old home in Hangzhou. He knew something of Hudson's inner struggles because the two of them had talked about them the last time they were together. Since then, he had made a spiritual discovery that he wanted to share with this friend and mentor. In his letter to Hudson, he wrote the following, I do wish I could have a talk with you now about the way of holiness. At the time you were speaking to me about it, it was the subject of all others occupying my thoughts, not from anything I read, so much as from a consciousness of failure, a constant falling short of that which I felt should be aimed at, an unrest, a perpetual striving to find some way by which one might continually enjoy that communion, that fellowship, a time so real, but more often so visionary, so far off. Do you know I now think that this striving, longing, hoping for better days to come is not the true way to holiness, happiness, or usefulness. It is better, no doubt, far better than being satisfied with poor attainments, but not the best way after all. I've been struck with a passage from a book entitled Christ is All. It says, The Lord Jesus received is holiness begun. The Lord Jesus cherished is holiness advancing. The Lord Jesus counted upon is never absent would be holiness complete. He is most holy who has most of Christ within, enjoys most fully in the finished work. It is defective faith which clogs the feet and causes many a fall. This last sentence, I think, I now fully endorse. To let my loving Savior work in me his will, my sanctification, is what I would live for by his grace. Abiding, not striving or struggling, looking oft unto him, trusting him for present power, resting in the love of an almighty Savior, in the joy of a complete salvation from all sin, this is not new. And yet, tis new to me. I feel as though the dawning of a glorious day had risen upon me. I hail it with trembling, yet with trust. I seem to have got to the edge only, but out of a boundless sea to have sipped only, but of that which fully satisfied. Christ literally all seems to me. Now the power, the only power for service, the only ground for unchanging joy. How then to have our faith increased? Only by thinking of all that Jesus is and all that he is for us. His life, his death, his work, he himself as revealed to us in the word, to be the subject of our constant thoughts. Not a striving to have faith, but a looking oft to the faithful one seems all we need. A resting in the loved one entirely for time and eternity. Hudson wrote afterwards about the impact of these words saying, as I read, I saw it all. I looked to Jesus and when I saw, oh, how joy flowed. And on his next trip to Yangzhou, he heartily greeted his friend there before he began pacing back and forth across the room with his hands behind his back, excitedly explaining what had happened to him. Oh, Mr. Judd, God has made me a new man. God has made me a new man. And so it seemed to everyone who knew him. His friend Judd wrote, he was a joyous man now, a bright, happy Christian. He had been a toiling, burdened one before with latterly not much rest of soul. It was rested in Jesus now and letting him do the work, which makes all the difference. Whenever he spoke in meetings after that, a new power seemed to flow from him. Troubles did not worry him as before. He cast everything on God in a new way and gave more time to prayer. Instead of working late at night, he began to go to bed earlier, rising at 5 a.m. to give time to Bible study and prayer, often two hours, before the work of the day began. Only six months earlier, Hudson had lamented his spiritual weakness, saying, I have continued to mourn that I follow at such a distance and learn so slowly to imitate my precious master. But this was no longer an imitation. He now experienced the truth the Apostle Paul described when he wrote that Christ liveth in me. Instead of bondage, Hudson felt an exciting new freedom within. Instead of failure, he sensed victory. Instead of fear and weakness, he knew beyond doubt that his Lord would be sufficient. The difference seemed so amazing and so simple that Hudson wanted to share the secret with anyone and everyone he knew, starting with friends and loved ones. To his sister, Amelia Broomhall, whom he knew to be burdened by the cares and responsibility of a family that grew to ten children, he wrote, So many thanks for your dear long letter. I do not think you've written me such a letter since our return to China. I know it is with you as with me. You cannot, not you will not. Mind and body will not bear more than a certain amount of strain or do more than a certain amount of work. As to work, mine was never so plentiful, so responsible, or so difficult. But the weight and strain are all gone. The last month or more has been perhaps the happiest of my life, and I long to tell you a little of what the Lord has done for my soul. I do not know how far I may be able to make myself intelligible about it, for there is nothing new or strange or wonderful, and yet all is new. Perhaps I may make myself more clear if I go back a little. Well, dearie, my mind has been greatly exercised for six or eight months past, feeling the need personally and for our mission of more holiness, life, power in our souls. But personal needs stood first and was the greatest. I felt the ingratitude, the danger, the sin of not living nearer to God. I prayed, agonized, fasted, strove, made resolutions, read the Word more diligently, sought more time for meditation, but all with no avail. Every day, almost every hour, the consciousness of sin oppressed me. I knew that if only I could abide in Christ, all would be well, but I could not. I would begin the day with prayer, determined not to take my eye off Him for a moment, but pressure of duties, sometimes very trying, and constant interruptions apt to be so wearing, caused me to forget Him. Then one's nerves get so fretted in this climate that temptations to irritability, hard thoughts, and sometimes unkind words are all the more difficult to control. Each day brought its register of sin and failure, of lack of power. To will was indeed present with me, but how to perform I found not. Then came the question, is there no rescue? Must it be thus to the end, constant conflict and too often defeat? How could I preach with sincerity that to those who received Jesus, to them He gave power to become the sons of God, that means to be godlike, when it was not so in my own experience? Instead of growing stronger, I seemed to be getting weaker and to have less power against sin, and no wonder for faith and even hope were getting low. I hated myself, I hated my sin, yet gained no strength against it. I felt I was a child of God. His spirit in my heart would cry in spite of all, Abba Father, but to rise to my privileges as a child, I was utterly powerless. I thought that holiness, practical holiness, was to be gradually attained by a diligent use of the means of grace. There was nothing I so much desired as holiness, nothing I so much needed, but far from in any measure attaining it, the more I strove after it, the more it eluded my grasp, till hope itself almost died out, and I began to think that perhaps to make heaven the sweeter, God would not give it down here. I do not think that I was striving to attain it on my own strength. I knew I was powerless. I told the Lord so, and asked Him to give me help and strength. Sometimes I almost believed that He would keep and uphold me, but on looking back in the evening, alas, there was but sin and failure to confess and mourn before God. I would not give you the impression that this was the only experience of these long weary months. It was a too frequent state of soul, and that towards which I was tending, which almost ended in despair. And yet, never did Christ seem more precious, a Savior who could and would save such a sinner. And sometimes there were seasons not only of peace, but of joy in the Lord. But they were transitory, and at best there was a sad lack of power. Oh, how good the Lord has been in bringing this conflict to an end. All the time I felt assured that there was in Christ all I needed, but the practical question was how to get it out. He was rich, truly, but I was poor. He was strong, but I weak. I knew full well that there was in the root, the stem, an abundant fatness, but how to get it into my puny branch was the question. As gradually light dawned, I saw that faith was the only requisite, was the hand to lay hold on His fullness and to make it mine. But I had not this faith. I strove for faith, but it would not come. I tried to exercise it, but in vain. Seeing more and more the wondrous supply of grace laid up in Jesus, the fullness of our precious Jesus, the fullness of our precious Savior, my guilt and helplessness seemed to increase. Sins committed appeared but as trifles compared with the sin of unbelief, which was their cause, which could not or would not take God at His word, but rather made Him a liar. Unbelief was I, felt the damning sin of this world, yet I indulged in it. I prayed for faith, but it came not. What was I to do? When my agony of soul was at its height, a sentence in a letter from dear McCarthy was used to remove the scales from my eyes, and the Spirit of God revealed to me the truth of our oneness with Jesus as I have never known it before. McCarthy, who had been much exercised by the same sense of failure but saw the light before I did, wrote, and I quote from memory, But how to get faith strengthened? Not by striving after faith, but by resting on the faithful one. As I read, I saw it all. If we believe not, he abideth faithful. I looked to Jesus and saw, and when I saw, oh joy flowed that he had said, I will never leave thee. Ah, there is the rest, I thought. I have striven in vain to rest in Him. I'll strive no more. For has not he promised to abide with me, never to leave me, never to fail me? And deary, he never will. Nor was this all that he showed me, nor one half. As I thought of the vine and the branches, what light the blessed Spirit poured direct into my soul. How great seemed my mistake in wishing to get the sap, the fullness out of him. I saw not only that Jesus will never leave me, but thought I am a member of his body, of his flesh, and of his bones. The vine is not the root merely, but all, roots, stem, branches, twigs, leaves, flowers, fruit. And Jesus is not that alone. He is soil and sunshine, air and showers, and ten thousand times more than we've ever dreamed, wished for, or needed. Oh, the joy of seeing this truth. I do pray that the eyes of your understanding too may be enlightened, that you may know and enjoy the riches freely given us in Christ. Oh, my dear sister, it is a wonderful thing to be really one with the risen and exalted Savior, to be a member of Christ. Just think what it involves. Can Christ be rich and I poor? Can your right hand be rich and your left one poor? Or your head be well fed while your body stars? Again, think of it as bearing on prayer. Could a bank clerk say to a customer, It was only your hand, not you that wrote the check. Or, I cannot pay this sum to your hand, but only to yourself. No more can your prayers or mine be discredited if offered in the name of Jesus. That is, not for the sake of Jesus merely, but on the ground that we are His, His members, so long as we keep within the limits of Christ's credit, a tolerably wide limit. If we ask for anything unscriptural or not in accordance with the will of God, Christ Himself could not do that. But, if we ask anything according to His will, we know that we have the petitions that we desire of Him. The sweetest part, if one may speak of one part being sweeter than another, is the rest which full identification with Christ brings. I am no longer anxious about anything. As I realize this, for He, I know, is able to carry out His will, and His will is mine. It makes no matter where He places me or how. That is rather for Him to consider than for me. For in the easiest position, He must give me His grace, and in the most difficult, His grace is sufficient. It little matters to my servant whether I send him to buy a few cash worth of things or the most expensive articles. In either case, he looks to me for the money, and he brings me his purchases. So, if God should place me in serious perplexity, must He not give me such guidance? In positions of great difficulty, much grace. In circumstances of great pressure and trial, much strength. No fear that resources will prove unequal to the emergency. And His resources are mine, for He is mine, and is with me, and dwells in me. And since Christ has thus dwelt in my heart by faith, how happy I have been. I wish I could tell you about it instead of writing. I am no better than before. In a sense, I do not wish to be, nor am I striving to be. But I am dead and buried with Christ. I am risen too. And now Christ lives in me, and the life that I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave Himself for me. And now I must close. I have not said half I would, nor as I would, had I more time. May God give you to lay hold on these blessed truths. Do not let us continue to say and effect, who shall ascend into heaven? That is to bring Christ down from above. In other words, do not let us consider Him as far off, when God has made us one with Him, members of His very own body. Nor should we look upon this experience, these truths, as for the few. They are the birthright of every child of God, and no one can dispense with them without dishonoring our Lord. The only power for deliverance from sin, or for true service, is Christ. It all seems so simple and practical, as Hudson's sister discovered for herself. But are you always conscious of abiding in Christ? Someone asked Hudson many years later. While sleeping last night, he replied, did I cease to abide in your home because I was unconscious of that fact? We should never be conscious of not abiding in Christ. The discovery of this simple secret soon changed Hudson Taylor's life and ministry in ways that he could never even have imagined before. 1869-1870 Hudson had written, I am no longer anxious about anything, for He, I know, is able to carry out His will, and His will is mine. But that declaration of renewed faith was tested to its limits in the following few months, as his duties piled up and storms of conflict again batted the little mission and its work. A sampling of his correspondence hints at the load of responsibility he carried that fall. To one of the missionaries at Nanking, he wrote on October 8, 1869, Business is very pressing, but it does not hinder my joy in the Lord. I enclose the first six pages of your valuable little book and am buying Chinese type to print it. Later that day, to another member of the mission, he wrote, The mission funds are lower than they were before. From Yangzhou on October 27, he reported, Our work here is very encouraging at present. We cannot too much thank God for this. Five persons have been baptized, eight others are about ready to be received, and several more will, I trust, follow after a little time. It is the provincial examination at present, and the daily congregations are large and attentive. To another missionary at Tai Zaopu on October 30, I would ask you to remember funds in prayer. They are lower than they have ever been. Yet we are not and have not been forsaken or lacking ever really, and we assuredly shall not be if we have faith as a mustard seed. And in the letter to the new mission station at Anqing the next day, it occurs to me to add that some of the members of the mission may be unaware of the amount of labor involved in serving them. It is a real pleasure, but it is nonetheless onerous. For instance, I have to write to Mr. Mueller to thank him for your check. To Mr. Lord, asking him kindly to sell as he gets a better price than the Shanghai banks will give, then to enter it into his account and in my cash account, then to send the amount to Mr. Hart with a note requesting him kindly to forward it. Of course, I must also advise you of it, but this may not involve special writing. I thank God for permitting me to be a hewer of wood and a drawer of water in his glorious work and to do cheerfully what little I can do to help. Only regretting the impossibility of doing all that all wishes. Just now, I have seven different portions of Old and New Testament and long tracks sent me in several dialects with requests to revise them. This, if possible of all, is the work of weeks, if not months. Yet, I am praying for guidance as to whether I may not have to leave tonight for one of our most distant stations on account of a case of sickness. Political unrest in China continually fanned the flames of fear, resentment, and hatred toward all Europeans, including missionaries. In November, word of a riot in Anqing brought with it rumor that all of the foreigners in that city had been killed. And even after anxiety was eased by reliable reports that all the China Inland Mission missionaries and their small children had escaped, Anqing without injury, concerned remained that about this incident, like the Yanzhou riot, would stir up even greater criticism at home. To his mother, Hudson wrote, I am more happy in the Lord than I have ever been and enjoy more leisure of soul, casting more fully every burden on him who alone is able to bear all. To be content with God's will and way is rest. Things may not be in many respects as I would wish them, but if God permits them to be so or so orders them, I may well be content. Mine is to obey, his to direct. Hence, I'm not only able to bear up against the new trial of Anqing, but to be fully and satisfied about it. Not to wish it otherwise, but to thank God for it. Even so, father, for so it seemed good in thy sight. Still, you will pray much for us all, will you not? Hudson and Maria spent a particularly happy Christmas that year together with their children in Yangzhou, but their celebration didn't include the traditional English roast beef and plum pudding, according to a report by one of the new missionaries. Mr. C.T. Fish wrote, They lived exclusively on Chinese food, and I well remember the difficulty we had in hunting up a knife, fork, and spoon when a foreigner, unskilled in the use of chopsticks, came to Yangzhou. Condensed milk was not yet on the market, and they used few, if any, foreign items. There was one luxury, however, a big barrel of treckle, a form of molasses, that had recently come out on the lumber mirror. This was eaten with rice and much appreciated. That season, as they had many times before, Hudson and Maria scrimped on their own personal expenses so that they could share from their own accounts with the other missionaries under their leadership. And it wasn't just their money that they were generous with, but also their time, attention, and concern. As Mr. Fish indicated in writing, I was much touched by Mr. Taylor's amiability. He was very kind to me. I helped him in his dispensary and medical work, and was with him a good deal whenever he was in Yangzhou. He guided my studies. He was, of course, exceedingly busy, and appeared quite young and a lively man. He loved playing with his children and did not seem burdened with care. He was fond of music and singing, and used to play the harmonium for the Chinese on Sunday evenings for an hour at a time, and have them sing hymns. Despite the pressures, Hudson and Maria seemed happier that fall and winter than ever before. Yangzhou had become a more of a home for the entire Taylor family than any other city where they had lived in China. When duties called both parents away from home for a time, the children were left in the able and loving care of Hudson's secretary, Miss Emily Blatchley, who came out on the lammermuir with the Taylors, and had since become Hudson's personal secretary. But when the traveling parents would return, there were many warm and wonderful family reunions in the Yangzhou home. Despite their great love for their children, and also because of their love, when spring came in 1870, Hudson and Maria made what was perhaps the most difficult decision in their married lives. There wasn't any school in China where the children could get an adequate education, and they dared not risk the heat and disease of another Chinese summer for their older children. They felt especially concerned about the deteriorating health of their five-year-old son, Samuel. For a time, the Taylors talked with Maria and about her returning with the children to England. But Emily Blatchley volunteered to go for the children in England so that Maria could stay and help Hudson continuing the work. Though that seemed the wisest decision, the thought of separation from their four oldest children, the infant son born in the wake of the Yangzhou riot, would be the only one staying with them. It seemed a painful prospect for both parents. But as the day for their parting approached, Hudson shared his emotions in a letter to his mother. God will provide. Oh, he is a father. My precious mother, you can enter somewhat into our feelings as this dark cloud draws near. Sometimes it seems for a while to take all one's strength and heart away. But God does and will help us. It is so good of him to have given us to know more than we ever have known of his heart, his love, his gift, his joy, before calling us to take this step. He knows, as we did not know, that we can do all things through Christ, our Strengthener, and would not faint nor be ungrateful. And there are many mercies connected with this trial. Dear Miss Blatchley's love and self-sacrifice we can never repay. Next to ourselves, the children love her and she them. She knows just what our wishes are regarding them, in sickness and in health. I am sure you will do what you can to help her. And you will especially pray for my dear Maria. With all the bustle of preparation and the excitement of departure are over, then will come the trying time of reaction. But the Lord, whose work calls for the separation, can and will support. As that day approached, Samuel's chronic illness grew worse. And when he finally began to improve, the entire family set out by boat from Yangzhou en route to Shanghai to book passage for the children to England. The boat wasn't even out of sight in Yangzhou when the little boy, Samuel, experienced a relapse. All night, Hudson and Maria had nursed their sick child. But at dawn the next morning, aboard the small boat floating down the middle of the Great Yangtze River, Samuel slipped into unconsciousness and died. Through a driving rainstorm, Hudson and Maria crossed to the far side of the two-mile-wide river to bury their son in a little cemetery in Shenyang. As painful as the prospect of separation from their children was, Samuel's death and its reminder of the little girl they had already buried in Chinese soil confirmed in the tailors' minds that their difficult decision was the right one for their children. The older boys and their little girl had to go back to England. In Shanghai, a few weeks later, after escorting the three children and Emily Blatchley aboard a French mail ship set to sail at daybreak, Hudson wrote to his friend, Mr. Berger. I have seen them awake for the last time in China. About two of our little ones, we have no anxiety. They rest in Jesus' bosom. And now, dear brother, through the tears, though they will not be stayed, I do thank God for permitting one so unworthy to take any part in this great work, not mine or yours, and yet it is ours, not because we are engaged in it, but because we are his. And one with him whose work it is. Never had there been a more troubled time during all their years in China, but through it all, the tailors were confident that they made the right decision about their children. I could not but admire and wonder at the grace that so sustained and comforted the fondest of mothers, Hudson wrote of Maria. The secret was that Jesus was satisfying the deep thirst of heart and soul. All manner of sickness raged through the China Inland Mission stations throughout that year. Before they even reached Ch'ing-Yang again, after parting from the children, they were met with the news that Mrs. Judd was in that city at the point of death. Hudson couldn't leave that boat because of another critically ill patient on board. So it was decided that Maria would hurry ahead by land to Ch'ing-Yang to offer what help she could. After days and nights of nursing his wife, Mr. Judd had come to the end of his own strength when he heard sounds of someone arriving in the courtyard below. Who could it be at that time of night and where had they come from? No steamer had passed upriver and native boats would not be traveling after dark. Maria Taylor, six months pregnant, having ridden all day over rough roads in a wheelbarrow, came rushing into the house. As Mr. Judd himself later recalled, Suffering though Mrs. Taylor was at the time and worn with hard traveling, she insisted on my going to bed and that she would undertake the nursing. Nothing would induce her to rest. No, she said, you have quite enough to bear without sitting up at night anymore. Go to bed, for I shall stay with your wife whether you do or not. Never can I forget the firmness and love with which it was said. Her face, meanwhile, shining with the tenderness of him in whom it was her Taylor's minds that their difficult decision was the right one for their children. The older boys and their little girl had to go back to England. In Shanghai, a few weeks later, after escorting the three children and Emily Blatchley aboard a French mail ship set to sail a daybreak, Hudson wrote to his friend, Mr. Berger, I have seen them awake for the last time in China. About two of our little ones, we have no anxiety. They rest in Jesus's bosom. And now, dear brother, through the tears, though they will not be stayed, I do thank God for permitting one so unworthy to take any part in this great work, not mine or yours, and yet it is ours, not because we are engaged in it, but because we are his and one with him whose work it is. Never had there been a more troubled time during all their years in China, but through it all, the Taylors were confident that they made the right decision about their children. I could not but admire and wonder at the grace that so sustained and comforted the fondest of mothers, Hudson wrote of Maria. The secret was that Jesus was satisfying the deep thirst of heart and soul. All manner of sickness raged through the China Inland Mission stations throughout that year. Before they even reached Ch'ing-Yang again, after parting from the children, they were met with the news that Mrs. Judd was in that city at the point of death. Hudson couldn't leave that boat because of another critically ill patient on board. So it was decided that Maria would hurry ahead by land to Ch'ing-Yang to offer what help she could. After days and nights of nursing his wife, Mr. Judd had come to the end of his own strength when he heard sounds of someone arriving in the courtyard below. Who could it be at that time of night and where had they come from? No steamer had passed upriver and native boats would not be traveling after dark. Maria Taylor, six months pregnant, having ridden all day over rough roads in a wheelbarrow, came rushing into the house. As Mr. Judd himself later recalled, Suffering though Mrs. Taylor was at the time and worn with hard traveling, she insisted on my going to bed and that she would undertake the nursing. Nothing would induce her to rest. No, she said, you have quite enough to bear without sitting up at night anymore. Go to bed for I shall stay with your wife whether you do or not. Never can I forget the firmness and love with which it was said. Her face, meanwhile, shining with the tenderness of him in whom it was her joy and strength to abide. The patient finally pulled through, but that disease-filled summer would yet take its toll on the mission and an even greater danger threatened. Hudson wrote, Politically, we are facing a crisis. If our government continues their present, I almost said mad, policy, war must result. In the meantime, our position is becoming almost embarrassing. You can scarcely judge how intricate our path seems at times. As the summer heat intensified, he wrote again to friends of the mission. We had previously known something of trial in one station or another, but now in all simultaneously or near so a widespread excitement shook the very foundations of native society. It is impossible to describe the alarm and consternation of the Chinese when they first believed that native magicians were bewitching them or their indignation and anger when told that these insidious foes were the agents of foreigners. It is well known how in Tingjin they rose and barbarously murdered the Sisters of Charity, the priests and even the French council. What then restrained them in the interior where our brothers were alone, far from any protecting human power? Nothing but the mighty hand of God in answer to united, constant prayer in the all-prevailing name of Jesus. And this same power kept us satisfied with Jesus, with his presence, his love, and his providence. In the wake of the Tingjin massacre, in which 21 foreigners were killed, the decision was made to send all the women and children out to the coastal cities. For a time, it seemed as though the Chinese authorities might require them to leave the country altogether. The situation required much correspondence with officials, Chinese and foreign, and frequent letters to those workers most in peril. Meanwhile, the accommodations of the mission house in Xinjiang were taxed to the utmost with extra borders. So widespread was the unrest that no additional premises could be obtained. Old times seem to be coming round again, Hudson wrote to Emily Blatchley in June, referring to the now-famous Yangzhou riot. But with this difference, that our anxieties are not as before confined to one place. By this time, it looked as though the river stations might have to be given up. The tailors moved to Xinjiang since its location was more central than Yangzhou. Hudson himself slept on the floor in the sitting room or in a hallway every night so that Maria could share their room with other ladies. He wrote to Yangzhou near the end of June. One difficulty follows another very fast, but God reigns, not chance. At Nanking, the excitement has been frightful. Here the rumors are, I hope, passing away. But at Yangzhou, they are very bad. Pray for us much. My heart is calm, but my head is sorely tried by the constant succession of one difficulty after another. In spite of the continuing illness, the political tension, and the expected arrival of a baby any time, Maria's work went on. In the hottest days of the summer, she wrote Emily Blatchley to report, We have been holding classes on Sunday and two or three evenings in the week to interest the Chinese Christians who can read and searching the scriptures and those who cannot read in learning to do so. And to set an example to the younger members of the mission who know pretty well that we have no lack of work. It may be a practical proof to them of the importance we attach to securing that the Christians and others about us learn to read and understand for themselves the word of God. Yet even in the midst of his growing troubles, Hudson's joy and excitement over his recent spiritual discovery remained evident to everyone around him. For example, after carefully answering questions from one of the mission workers about the continuing work in Yangzhou, he added these words of encouragement, And now I have the very passage for you and God has so blessed it to my own soul, John 7, 37 to 39. If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink. Who does not thirst? Who has not mind thirst, soul thirst or body thirst? Well, no matter which or whether I have them all, come unto me and remain thirsty? Ah, no. Come unto me and drink. What? Can Jesus meet my need? Yes, and more than meet it. No matter how intricate my path, how difficult my service, no matter how sad my bereavement, how far away my loved ones, no matter how helpless I am, how deep are my soul yearnings, Jesus can meet all, all and more than meet. He not only promises me rest, ah, how welcome that would be, were it all, and what in all that one word embraces. He not only promises me drink to alleviate my thirst, no better than that. He who trusts me in this matter, who believeth on me, takes me at my word, out of him shall flow. Can it be? Can the dry and thirsty one not only be refreshed, the parched soul moistened, the arid places cooled, but the land be so saturated that springs well up and streams flow down from it? Even so, and not mere mountain torrents, full while the rain lasts, then dry again, but from within him shall flow rivers, rivers like the mighty yanks, ever deep, ever full. In times of drought, brooks may fail, often do, canals may be pumped dry, often are, but the yanks never. Always a mighty stream, always flowing deep, irresistible. In yet another June letter he wrote, Come unto me and drink, not come and take a hasty draught, not come and slightly alleviate, or for a short time remove one's thirst, no, drink or be drinking, constantly, habitually. The cause of thirst may be irremediable. One coming, one drinking may refresh and comfort, but we are to be ever coming, ever drinking, no fear of emptying the fountain or exhausting the river. Yet again this new and deeper sense of faith would soon be tested. On July 7, 1870, Maria gave birth for the seventh time, and Hudson wrote his parents, telling them the news. How graciously the Lord has dealt with me and mine. How tenderly did he bring my loved one through the hour of trial and give us our last born, Noel. How I thanked him as I stroked the soft, silky hair and nestled the little one in my bosom, and how she loved him. When with a father's joy and pride, I brought him to her for her first kiss, and together we gave him to the Lord. But immediately upon giving birth, perhaps it had started even before, cholera struck Maria. She quickly grew too sick to nourish the baby, and before a Chinese wet nurse could be found, the little baby died. Maria's own life hung precariously in the balance. Hudson's same letter continued, Though excessively prostrated in body, the deep peace of soul, the realization of the Lord's own presence and joy in his holy will, with which she was filled, and which I was permitted to share, I can find no words to describe. Maria herself chose the hymns to be sung at the baby's funeral. One hymn, O Holy Savior, Friend Unseen, seems to linger in her mind. The words go, Though faith and hope are often tried, they ask not, need not, ought beside, so safe, so calm, so satisfied, the souls that cling to thee. They fear not Satan or the grave, they know thee near and strong to save, nor fear to cross even Jordan's wave, while still they cling to thee. Weak as she was, Maria was not worried about her own health. At the age of thirty-three, she had always been strong, and she felt no pain. She was far from anxious to hear word from England about their children than she was for her own health. When word came on July twenty-one in a letter from Mrs. Berger saying that all three children and Mrs. Blatchley had arrived safely at St. Hall, it was the most comforting correspondence Maria had ever received. Even her friend's gentle and loving words gave her a sense of peace. And now farewell, precious friend. Mrs. Berger had written, The Lord throw around you his everlasting arms. Two days later, Maria Taylor took a turn for the worse. In the early morning hours of Saturday July twenty-three, eighteen-seventy, Maria slept peacefully. So Hudson left her a few moments to prepare breakfast. While he was gone, she awakened and called out. He described his return to her side this way, By the time it was dawn and the sunlight revealed what the candle had hidden, the death-like hue of her countenance, even my love could no longer deny, nor not her danger, but that she was actually dying. As soon as I was sufficiently composed, I said, My darling, do you know that you are dying? Dying? She replied. Do you think so? What makes you think so? I said, I can see it, darling. Your strength is giving way. Can it be so? I feel no pain, only weariness. Yes, you are going home. You will soon be with Jesus. I'm so sorry, she said, and paused as if half-correcting herself for the feeling. You are not sorry to be going to be being with Jesus, are you? Never shall I forget the look with which she answered. Oh, no, it's not that. You know, darling, that for ten years past, there has not been a cloud between me and my Savior. I cannot be sorry to go to him. But it does grieve me to leave you alone at such a time. Yet, he will be with you and meet all your needs. Little was said after that. A few loving messages to those back in England, a few last words about the children, and then Maria slipped into an unconscious sleep. As the summer sun rose over the city, the hills, and the great Yanzi River, the busy hum of life spread throughout the streets and courtyards all around. But it was very quiet in that small upstairs room. George Duncan's wife, who was staying with the Taylors, wrote, I never witnessed such a scene. As dear Mrs. Taylor was breathing her last, Mr. Taylor knelt and committed her to the Lord, thanking him for having given her and for twelve and a half years of perfect happiness together, thanking him too for taking her to his own presence and solemnly dedicating himself anew to his service. At 9 a.m., Maria Taylor took her last quiet and peaceful breath. Earlier that same year, Hudson Taylor had written, My thirsty days are all past, claiming as true Jesus's promise, He that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that believeth on me shall never thirst. Could that promise hold true now? Back on July 11th, when his newborn son and Maria were both gravely ill, Hudson had written to his mother, I find increasing comfort in the thought that all things are really in our Father's hand, and under His governance He cannot do but what is best. And now on August 4, he wrote to her again, saying, I've just been reading over my last letter to you, and my views are not changed, though chastened and deepened. From my inmost soul I delight in the knowledge that God does or permits all things, and causes all things to work together for good to those who love Him. He and only He knew what my dear wife was to me. He knew how the light of my eyes and the joy of my heart were in her. On the last day of her life, we had no idea that it would be the last. Our hearts were mutually delighted by the never-old story of each other's love. And almost her last act was, with one arm around my neck, to place her hand on my head, and as I believe, for her lips had lost their cunning, to implore a blessing on me. But he saw that it was good to take her, good indeed for her, and in his love he took her painlessly. And not less good for me, who now must toil and suffer alone, for God is nearer to me than ever. And now I have to tell him all my sorrows and difficulties, as I used to tell dear Maria. And as she cannot join me in intercession, to rest in the knowledge of Jesus's intercession, to walk a little less by feeling, a little less by sight, a little more by faith. And to Mr. Berger he wrote, When I think of my loss, my heart nigh to breaking, rises in thankfulness to him who has spared her such sorrow and made her so unspeakably happy. My tears are more tears of joy than grief, but most of all I joy in God, through our Lord Jesus Christ, in his work, his ways, his providence himself. He has given me to prove, to know by trial, what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God. I do rejoice in that will, it is acceptable to me, it is perfect, it is love in action. And soon in that sweet will, we shall be reunited to part no more. Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am. Despite that confident faith, Hudson still felt his grief, especially when a new round of illness caused him long, sleepless nights. He later wrote, How lonesome were the weary hours when confined to my room! How I missed my dear wife and the voices of the children far away in England! Then it was I understood why the Lord had made that passage so real to me. Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst. Twenty times a day, perhaps, as I felt the heartthirst coming back, I literally cried to him, Lord, you promised, you promised me that I should never thirst. And whether I call by night or day, how quickly he came and satisfied my sorrowing heart. So much so that I often wondered whether it were possible that my loved one, who had been taken, could be enjoying more of his presence than I was in my lonely chamber. He did literally fulfill the prayer, Lord Jesus, make thyself to me a living, bright reality, more present to faith's vision keen than any outward object seen, more dear, more intimately nigh than e'en the sweetest earthly tie. Late in August he wrote again to Mr. Burger saying, It is Sunday evening and I am writing for Mr. White's bungalow. The cool air, the mellow, autumnal beauty of the scene, the magnificent Jenks with Silver Island beautifully wooded, reposing as it were on its bosom, combined to make one feel as if it were a vision of dreamland rather than actual reality. And my feelings accord. But a few moments ago my home was full, now so silent and lonely. Samuel, Noel, my precious wife with Jesus, the elder children far, far away, and even little Tien Bo, the son born after the Yang Tsao riots in Yang Tsao where he was being cared for by a missionary wife. Often of late years, his duty called me from my loved ones, but I have returned and so warm has been the welcome. Now I am alone. Can it be that there is no reward from this journey, no home gathering to look forward to? Is it real and not a sorrowful dream that those dearest to me lie beneath the cold sod? Ah, it is indeed true, but not more so than that there is a homecoming awaiting me which no parting shall break into, no tears mar. Love gave the blow that for a little while makes the desert more dreary, but heaven more homelike. I go to prepare a place for you and it is not our part of the preparation, the peopling it with those we love. I have been very ill since I last wrote to you. Through a severe attack of dysentery, my strength does not return rapidly. I feel like a little child, but with the weakness of a child, I have the rest of a child. I know my father reigns. This meets all questions of every kind. I have heard today that war is broken out in Europe between France and Prussia, that it is rumored that England joins the former and Russia the latter. If so, fearful doings may be expected, but the Lord reigneth. Hudson's toddler son, Tingbo, suddenly became critically sick and the concerned father took him to an island off the coast in the hopes that the change of climate would save his life. He recovered only slowly. And even as Hudson tended to the needs of his last child left in China and prayed for his recovery, he thought often of his other children, a three-year-old daughter and the older boys who were eight and nine, halfway around the world. You do not know how often father thinks of his darlings and how often he looks at your photographs till the tears fill his eyes. Sometimes he almost fears lest he should feel discontented when he thinks how far away you are from him. But then the dear Lord Jesus who never leaves him says, don't be afraid, I will keep your heart satisfied. And I thank him and am so glad that he will live in my heart and keep it right for me. I wish you, my precious children, knew what it is to give your heart to Jesus to keep every day. I used to try to keep my own heart right, but it would always be going wrong. So at last I had to give up trying myself and to accept the Lord's offer to keep it for me. Don't you think that is the best way? Perhaps sometimes you think, I will try not to be selfish or unkind or disobedient. And yet though you really try, you do not succeed. But Jesus says, you should trust that to me. I would keep that little heart if you would trust me with it. And he would too. Once I used to think very much and very often about Jesus, but I often forgot him. Now I trust Jesus to keep my heart remembering him. And he does so. This is the best way. Ask dear Miss Blatchley to tell you more about his way and pray God to make it plain to you and to help you so trust Jesus. To Miss Blatchley, Hudson had written about Maria's death saying, You will love them all the more now that you can never again know a mother's care. God will help you to bear with them and to try to correct them by lovingly pointing out the right way rather than too frequent reproof. Don't do this or that. This I feel is where I most failed with them. And now there is only you to make up for my deficiencies. To his children, he wrote yet again, My darling treasures, it is not very long since my last letter, but I want to write again. I wonder if you will try to write me a little answer. I've been thinking tonight if Jesus makes me so happy by always keeping near me and talking to me every minute or two though I cannot see him. How happy darling Mama must be. I'm so glad for her to be with him. I shall be so glad to go to her when Jesus thinks it's best. But I hope he will help me to be equally willing to live with him here so long as he has any work for me to do for him and for poor China. Now, my darling children, I want you to love Jesus very much. And to know that he really does love you very, very much. Don't you think your far off dear Papa would be well pleased to see you and talk to you and to take you on his knee and kiss you? You know that he would. Well, Jesus will always be far more pleased than you think of him with loving thoughts and speak to him with loving words. Don't think of him as some dreadful being. Think of him as very good and very great, able to do everything, but is very gentle. And very kind. To his remaining children now in England, he admonishes them to also love Jesus with all their heart. And to begin each day with these words. Good morning, dear Jesus. I am so glad you have been by me all night and have taken care of me. Teach me how much you love me. Take care of my heart. Make it think good thoughts. Take care of my lips. Only let them speak kind, good words. Help me always to know what is right and to do it. He likes us to talk to him, Hudson said. When I'm walking alone, I often talk aloud. At other times, I talk to him in my heart. Do not forget, my darling children, that he is always with you, awake or asleep, at home or elsewhere. He is really with you, though you cannot see him. So I hope you will try not to grieve so constant and kind a friend. To Emily Blanchly, he wrote, I have written again to the dear children. I do long for them to learn early the precious truths which have come so late to me concerning oneness with and the indwelling of Christ. These do not seem to me more difficult of apprehension than the truths of redemption. Both need the teaching of the Spirit, nothing more. May God help you to live Christ before these little ones and to minister him to them. How wonderfully he has led and taught us. How little I believed the rest and peace of heart I now enjoy were possible down here. It is heaven begun below, is it not? Compare with this union with Christ, heaven or earth are unimportant accidents. There was, meanwhile, no easing of tensions in China. The claims made by European countries concerning the Tingshan Massacre was now being ignored by the Chinese government. Knowing that Europe was consumed by war, the Chinese authorities did nothing to ease the anti-foreign agitation. Hudson spelled out the seriousness of the situation in a letter he sent out at the end of the year, calling friends and supporters to unite on December 31 in a day of fasting and prayer for China. He wrote, The present year has been in many ways remarkable. Perhaps every one of our number has been more or less face to face with danger, perplexity and distress. But out of it all, the Lord has delivered us. And some who have drunk more deeply than ever before the cup of the man of sorrows can testify that it has been a most blessed year to our souls and can give thanks for it. Personally, it has been the most sorrowful and the most blessed year of my life. And I doubt not that others have had in some measure the same experience. We have put to the proof the faithfulness of God, His power to support in trouble and to give patience under affliction, as well as to deliver from danger. And should greater dangers await us, should deeper sorrows come, it is to be hoped that they will be met in a strengthened confidence in our God. We have great cause for thankfulness in one respect. We have been so situated as to show the Chinese Christians that our position, as well as theirs, has been and may again be one of danger. They have been helped, doubtless, to look from foreign power to God Himself for protection by the fact that, one, the former has been felt to be uncertain and unreliable, and, two, that we have been in calmness and joy in our various positions of duty. If in any measure we have failed to rest for ourselves in God's power to sustain us or to protect us from danger, as He sees best, let us humbly confess this and all conscious failure to our faithful covenant-keeping God. I trust we are all fully satisfied that we are God's servants, sent by Him to the various posts that we occupy, and that we are doing His work in them. He set before us the open doors we have entered, and in past times of excitement He has preserved us. We did not come to China because missionary work here was either safe or easy, but because He had called us. We did not enter upon our present positions under a guarantee of human protection, but relying on the promise of His presence. The accidents of ease or difficulty, of apparent safety or danger, of man's approval or disapproval, in no wise affect our duty. Should circumstances arise involving us in what may seem special danger, we shall have special grace, I trust, to manifest the depth and reality of our confidence in Him and by faithfulness to our charge to prove that we are followers of the Good Shepherd, who did not flee from death itself. But if we would manifest such a spirit then, we must seek the needed grace now. It is too late to look for arms and begin to drill when in presence of the foe. As to the ongoing concerns over financial support of the mission, Hudson wrote, I need not remind you of the liberal help which the Lord has sent us direct in our time of need from certain donors, nor of the blessed fact that He abideth faithful and cannot deny Himself. If we are really trusting in Him and seeking from Him, we cannot be put to shame. If not, perhaps the sooner we find out the unsoundness of any other foundation, the better. The mission funds, or the donors, are a poor substitute for the living God. Early in 1871, Hudson's liver ailment grew worse. His lungs caused not just pain, but serious difficulty in breathing. And the resulting sleepless nights caused a physical breakdown and spiritual discouragement. There seemed no alternative but to journey home to recover his health and to see to mission business back in England. Hudson had no idea what desert dry times lay ahead, or how much he had yet to learn about Jesus's promise to always quench the thirst of the thirsty. 1870-1873 In that eventful year of 1870, Hudson Taylor was still a young man in his thirties. The China Inland Mission included 33 members and occupied stations in three of China's twelve provinces. And all its Chinese converts were gathered into a dozen small congregations. Yet, after 16 years of demanding, health-breaking missionary service at great personal cost, the loss of his wife and three of his beloved children, Hudson hadn't lost sight of the goal. In fact, he felt more certain than ever that God had called, and was still calling, him to evangelize the whole country of China, as impossibly huge as the task seemed. So, it was a physically worn and weary man, but by no means a defeated one who finally accepted the inevitable need to journey once again to England to regain his health, and, of course, to do whatever he could in the way of mission business while he was there. Miss Ginny Falding, the youngest of the missionaries to accompany the Taylors on the Lammermuir, and the one who had done such an impressive job heading up the women's work at Hangzhou, had been due to go on furlough and had attempted to purchase passage on an earlier ship. When those plans fell through, she happened to be taking the same steamer Hudson took to England. During the two-month voyage, Hudson found the respect and brotherly fondness he had always felt toward Ginny quickly developing into more than friendship, and not long after they reached England, Hudson and Ginny were married. But despite this new cause for joy in his life and his quickly returning health, the furlough, designed as a time of rejuvenation, instead brought a greater level of new responsibility and added more work than Hudson had imagined. More, it soon proved, than he could ever hope to handle. By the end of 1871, it became clear that Mr. and Mrs. Berger, who had so generously cared for the home side of the mission, could no longer continue their strenuous labors. Failing health required them to spend winter abroad. St. Hill, the beautiful home they so generously allowed to serve as the home headquarters of the China Inland Mission, needed to be sold. Now all correspondence, account keeping, editorial work, screening and testing of candidates, and day-to-day management of the mission's business had to be assumed by someone else. That someone was Hudson. There was no one beside Mr. Berger who knew enough about the ongoing operation of the mission to step in. Hudson would have to stay in England until other arrangements could be made. And an impatient, discouraged Hudson Taylor realized that he had no idea what those arrangements should be or how long they would take. More than ever before, he felt the call of China and that great country's spiritual needs. But now, in addition to his seemingly impossible responsibilities as director of the mission in China itself, he was suddenly the mission's sole executive in charge of the home office. It wasn't much of an office. From the beautiful setting of St. Hill, the China Inland Mission's headquarters had to be moved to Pireland Road, a little suburban street in the north of London. And the change from Mr. Berger's spacious library to the small back room which served as Hudson's personal study, as well as mission headquarters, was just as extreme. During this time, which must have seemed like an interval of serious setback for the mission and for him personally, Hudson wrote, My path is far from easy. I never was more happy in Jesus, and I'm very sure he will not fail us. But never from the foundation of the mission have we been more cast upon God. It is well doubtless that it should be so. Difficulties afford a platform upon which we can show himself. Without them, we could never know how tender and faithful and almighty our God is. The change about Mr. and Mrs. Berger has tried me not a little. I love them so dearly. And it seems another link severed with the past in which my precious departed one, who is seldom absent from my thoughts, had a part. But his word is, Beloved, I make all things new. After years of challenging, exciting work in China, it must have been difficult indeed for Hudson to yield to the routine of office work as weeks and months went by. Yet he found contentment enough to write one of his fellow missionaries. It is no small comfort to me to know that God has called me to my work, putting me where I am, and as I am. I have not sought the position, and I dare not leave it. He knows why he places me here, whether to do, or learn, or suffer. He that believeth shall not make haste. That is no easy lesson for you or me, but I honestly think that ten years would be well spent, and we should have full value for them if we thoroughly learned in it those truths. Moses seems to have been taken aside for forty years to learn it. Meanwhile, let us beware alike of the haste of the impatient, impetuous flesh, and of its disappointment and weariness. It certainly wasn't as if nothing was being accomplished. Hudson made many new friends and contacts for the mission. Numerous churches and groups asked him to speak to them about his experience and work, and his witness and example attracted many young people to consider missionary service in China. F. W. Ballard, for example, was one young man who went on to become not only a pioneer missionary in China, but a noted linguist and scholar of the Chinese language. At this time, however, he was merely a bright young Londoner who had recently become a Christian and was curious about what it would mean to become a missionary. One day, he made his way to Parliament Road, where he found himself in a painfully furnished room in which a small group of people were gathering for a prayer meeting. He later recalled, a large text faced the door by which we entered. It read, My God shall supply all your need. And as I was not accustomed to seeing texts hung on walls in that way, it decidedly impressed me. Between a dozen and twenty people were present. Mr. Taylor, opening the meeting by giving out a hymn and seating himself at the harmonium, led the singing. His appearance did not impress me. He was slightly built and spoke in a quiet voice. Like most young men, I suppose, I associated power with noise and looked for a physical presence in a leader. But when he said, Let us pray, and proceeded to lead the meeting in prayer, my ideas underwent a radical change. I had never heard anyone pray like that. There was a simplicity, a tenderness, a boldness, a power that hushed and subdued me and made it clear that God had admitted him to the inner circle of his friendship. Such praying was evidently the outcome of long tearing in the secret place and was a do from the Lord. I have heard many men pray in public since then, but the prayers of Mr. Taylor and the prayers of Mr. Spurgeon stand all by themselves. Who that heard could ever forget them. It was the experience of a lifetime to hear Mr. Spurgeon pray, taking, as it were, the great congregation of 6,000 people by the hand and leading them into the holy place. And to hear Mr. Taylor plead for China was to know something of what is meant by the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man. That meeting lasted from four to six o'clock, but seemed one of the shortest prayer meetings I have ever attended. From the west of England, a young woman of education and refinement, Miss Salto, had come to London to attend the Mid-May Conference, a large Christian meeting held near the China Inland Mission headquarters. While at the conference, she stayed as a guest at Pireland Road. She heard Mr. Taylor giving the opening address of the conference when two or three thousand people crowded the great hall and saw how he influenced leaders of Christian thought. But it was in that everyday life of the mission house that Hudson Taylor most impressed her, and was a big part of the inspiration that led her also into missionary service in China. Long afterward, she wrote of those first days in London. I remember Mr. Taylor's exhortation to keep silent to all around and let our wants be known only to God. One day when we had had a small breakfast and there was scarcely anything for dinner, I was thrilled to hear him singing the children's hymn, Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Then he called us together to praise the Lord for his changeless love, to tell our needs and claim the promises. And before the day was over, we were rejoicing in his gracious answers. Far from being disheartened by the shortness of funds after Mr. Berger's retirement, Hudson determined to press forward with the mission's goal. Standing before the big map of China one day in the office at Pireland Road, he turned to a few friends who were with him and asked, Have you faith to join me in laying hold upon God for eighteen men to go two and two to the nine unevangelized provinces? And the little group joined hands in front of the map to pray and promise each other and God that they would each continue to pray every day for the eighteen evangelists needed to meet the new goal. As the months in England passed, a very promising solution was found to the problem of home leadership of the mission. Instead of one person like Mr. Berger who would devote most of his time and service to the task, Hudson established a council of Christian friends who were willing and able to divide among themselves the homework of the mission. The work could go on without unduly overloading anyone on the council, and Hudson and his new bride could finally go back to the front lines of the work in China. Emily Blatchley would remain with the Taylor children at Pireland Road. Being intimately acquainted with the mission's work in China and at home as a result of her formal role as Hudson's personal secretary, she could provide invaluable assistance to the council as well.