1.07.000. Book 7: Preface
NOTE
Sources of information.-Dr. Stock’s History of the C.M.S., Memoir of Henry Venn by Knight, Perowne’s Memoir of Ragland and the memories of those who knew him. So far as we can discover after searching all available records, Ragland was the first Englishman to camp among the people of India as a missionary of Christ. Eighteen months after his departure the Breath blew across his field, and many were refreshed and renewed. But perhaps the deed of his life was the dropping of a new thought into the missionary mind, and wherever a white tent is pitched, all over this Empire of India, and from it goes forth the Evangel of Peace, there you have Ragland’s seed in fruit. His years in camp were few; but eternal values are not counted in terms of earth’s coin, and in what splendid fields may he not be pioneering now? When this book was in the Press, the C.M.S. Mass Movement Quarterly for May 1922 was sent to us, and it throws another ray back upon the story.
"Although these first missionaries of Travancore made some efforts to ’meliorate the condition’ of the Outcastes, it was through a famous Tinnevelly missionary, the Rev. T. G. Ragland, that the movement began. He was in Travancore in 1850, and was filled with compassion for the slaves, especially after seeing one of them unequally yoked with an ox pulling a plough. He infected with a like compassion an Indian clergyman, who induced Outcastes to come and learn of the love of God in Christ." So the journey that led out into that first camp set loose other forces that operate mightily among us to this day. Verily, it is no vain and fruitless thing to be God’s corn of wheat.
Many crowd the Saviour’s Kingdom, Few receive His Cross, Many seek His consolation, Few will suffer loss For the dear sake of the Master, Counting all but dross.
Many sit at Jesus’ table, Few will fast with Him When the sorrow-cup of anguish Trembles to the brim- Few watch with Him in the garden Who have sung the hymn.
Many will confess His wisdom, Few embrace His shame, Many, should He smile upon them, Will His praise proclaim;
Then, if for a while He leaves them They desert His Name. But the souls who love Him truly Whether for woe or bliss, These will count their truest heart’s blood Not their own, but His:
Saviour, Thou who thus hast loved me, Give me love like this.