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The Conversion Of Hudson Taylor

Hudson Taylor, founder of China Inland Mission, says that about 1830 his father became so interested in the spiritual condition of China, that he was led to pray that if God ever gave him a son, he might be privileged to labor as a missionary there; a prayer unknown to the son until after seven years of service in that mission field. Though carefully trained to the study of God’s word and a life of devotion, yet at the age of fifteen the lad was a skeptic.

Of his conversion he says: “One day, which I shall never forget, when I was about fifteen years old, my dear mother being absent from home some eighty miles away, I had a holiday. I searched through the library for a book to while away time. I selected a gospel tract which looked unattractive, saying, there will be an interesting story at the commencement, and a sermon or moral at the end; I will take the former, and leave the latter for those who like it. I little knew what was going on in the heart of my dear mother. She arose from the dinner-table with an intense yearning for the conversion of her boy, and feeling that, being from home, and having more leisure than she otherwise would, there was a special opportunity afforded her of pleading with God for me. She went to her bedroom, and turned the key in the door, and resolved not to leave the room until her prayers were answered. Hour after hour did that dear mother plead for me, until she could only praise God for the conversion of her son. In the meantime, as I was reading the tract, ‘The Finished Work of Christ,’ a light was flashed into my soul by the Holy Spirit, that there was nothing to be done, but to fall ‘on my knees and accept this Savior and his salvation, and praise God forevermore. While my mother was praising God in her closet, I was praising Him in the old warehouse where I had retired to read my book. When I met mother at the door on her return with the glad news, she said: “I know, my boy; I have been rejoicing for a fortnight in the glad tidings you have to tell me!”

Many souls are lost for want of persistent pleading with God in their behalf. Time that might be used in prayer is consumed in other ways, and souls and opportunities pass forever from our reach. For those hours of pleading with God, this faithful mother received not only her son for God, but the great work God put into his hands-China Inland Mission. Hudson Taylor has led out into the heart of China more than one hundred and seventy apostolic missionaries, none of whom receive support except through faith in God. — Anna Abrams, in Vanguard.

THE CLOUDS STAYED IN ANSWER TO PRAYER

In his “Memorials of Methodism in Virginia,” Dr. W.W. Bennett relates the following incidents in the life of John Easter, one of the pioneer ministers who labored there nearly one hundred years ago. He is represented as being the most powerful exhortatory preacher of his day. His faith was transcendent, his appeals irresistible, his prayers were like talking to God face to face. On one of his circuits eighteen hundred members were added to the church in a single year.

Many thrilling scenes under his preaching yet linger in memory of the people in those counties where he principally labored. A most extraordinary display of his faith was witnessed in Brunswick. At Merritt’s meeting house a quarterly meeting was in progress, and so vast was the concourse of people from many miles around, that the services were conducted in a beautiful grove, near the church. In the midst of the exercises, a heavy cloud arose, and swept rapidly toward the place of worship. From the outskirts of the grove, the cloud could be seen coming across the fields The people were in consternation; no house could hold one third of the multitude and they were about to scatter in all directions when Mr. Easter rose in the midst of the confusion, “Brethren,”‘ cried he at the top of his voice, “be still while I call upon God to stay the clouds, till his word can be preached to perishing sinners.”

Arrested by his voice and manner, they stood between hope and fear. He kneeled down and offered a fervent prayer that God would stay the rain that the preaching of his word might go on, and afterward send refreshing showers. While he was praying, the angry cloud, as it swiftly rolled up to them, was seen to part asunder in the midst, pass on either side of them, and close again beyond, leaving a space several hundred yards in circumference perfectly dry. The next morning a copious rain fell again, and the fields that had been left dry-were well watered. — Records of Prevailing Prayer.

THE CHILD-HEROINE OF NEW BRUNSWICK

We have read a touching incident about three little children, who, last autumn, late in the season, wandered alone in a dreary region of New Brunswick. The sun had already sunk in the west, and the gloom of evening was spreading itself over the surrounding country.

The night came on fast; and feeling sure that they could not get home before daybreak, the eldest (a girl of only six years) quietly placed the two little ones in a sheltered nook on the sea-beach; and fearing the cold, chilly night for the younger children, Mary stripped off most of her own clothes to keep them warm.

She then started off to gather dry sea-weed, and whatever else she could find, to cover them with. Having tenderly in this way wrought for some time to make them a nest, she at last fell down exhausted with the cold, and half bare to the cold inclement night.

That evening the loving father and tender mother sat up wondering at their children’s long absence; the hours dragged slowly past with anxious watching, and silent listening for the well-known little pattering feet. In vain the fond parents’ eyes pierced through the darkness. At length they roused the neighbors with their anxious inquiries after their lost ones. All that night was passed in searching and in tears, till early in the morning, lying fast asleep, and same- – -what numbed with cold, were found little Johnny and Lizzie. But, oh I a touching spectacle lay near them; their young savior was stiff, cold and dead on the sea-weed which the poor little child-heroine had not strength to drag into the nook, where those she so deeply loved, and died to save, were sleeping. Thus this little New Brunswick girl died in her successful and self-sacrificing endeavor to save her brother and sister.

Does not this recall the love of the Lord Jesus Christ to you who read? Mary went to the full extent of human love in dying for her little brother and sister. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” Yet the Lord Jesus laid down his life for his enemies; for “scarcely for a righteous man will one die; yet peradventure for a good man some would even dare to die; but God commendeth His love toward us,” etc. He makes no mistakes. Yet how many listen to this story with more emotion and interest than they do to the story of the cross, where the love of Jesus, the Son of God, is told in letters of blood! – Dawn of the Morning.

THE BLIND RESTORED TO SIGHT

At the age of twenty years, a lady in Winchester, Iowa, began to lose her health, and in a short time was confined to her bed. And she writes; “In addition to this, I lost the use of my eyes, and was blind and helpless, a greater portion of my time, for five years.

“I enjoyed the blessing of prayer and trust some six months before feeling at liberty to pray for the healing of my body; fearing I should desire it without due submission to God’s will. It was with fear and trembling that I first made known this request. Though my pleadings in this direction were earnest, and often agonizing, yet I could say with a fervor as never before: “Not my will but Thine be done.”

“About the end of November, or early in December, 1873, I realized that my faith was perfect, that I was ready now to be healed; that my faith was momentarily waiting on God, and resting without a doubt on the promises. From this time forward, my faith remained fixed with but one exception. During the time between December, 1873, and July 1874, I was healed to such an extent that I could walk some, and see more or less every day, though sometimes with only one of my eyes. A portion of this time, I felt as though in a furnace of fire; but amid the flames, I realized the presence of the Son of God, who said: ‘I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction.’ This for a time seemed an answer to my petition, and so I thought it my life work to suffer. For a while my faith became inactive, and I almost ceased praying for my health. Though I felt submissive, yet somehow I was soon crying, and that most instinctively: “Thou Son of David, have mercy on me!” After this, my faith did not waver. Oh, the lesson of patience I learned in thus waiting on God’s good time! And with what comfort could I present my body an offering to Him, realizing that as soon as at all possible with His will, I should be healed; I had an assurance of this, but did not know whether it would be during life, or accomplished only at death.

In this manner I waited before God until the morning of the 26th of July, when, without ecstasy of joy, or extra illumination, came a sense of the presence of Jesus, and a presentation of this gift, accompanied with these words: “Here is the gift for which you have been praying; are you willing to receive it?”

I at first felt the incoming of the Divine power at the parts affected, steadily driving out the disease, until death was swallowed up in victory. I at once arose from my bed, and proceeded to work about the house, to the great astonishment of my friends, some of whom thought me wild; but I continued my work, assuring them that Jesus had healed me. Realizing the scrutiny and doubt with which I was observed, I said to my father: “What do you think?” He replied: “It is supernatural power; no one can deny it.”

“My healing took place on Wednesday; on Saturday I was persuaded to lie down, but found the bed was no place for me; I thought of Peter’s wife’s mother, who arose and ministered to them, I knew that to her, strength as well as health was instantly given, as in the case of the palsied man, who rose, took up his bed, and departed. I returned to my work, backing my experience with those in God’s word, and since then have not lain down during the daytime.

My friends could not realize the completeness of the cure, until I read a full hour, and that by lamplight, and until asked to desist, the first opportunity after being healed.

A week from this time, I discharged the hired girl, taking charge of the household work, which I have continued with perfect ease. About four weeks after my healing, I had occasion to walk four miles, which I did with little or no weariness. Let me add, to the praise of God, that I have no disease whatever. Am able to do more hard work with less weariness than at any other period in my life, and faith in the Lord is the balm that made me whole.” — Selected

THE ANGEL OF MERCY

The following pathetic story of our late war is told by a Christian writer:

“At the close of the first bloody day of the battle of Fredericksburg, hundreds of the Union wounded were left lying on the ground, and the road ascending Mary’s Heights. All night and most of the next day, the open space was swept by artillery shot from both the opposing lines, and no one could venture to the sufferers’ relief. All that time their agonized cries went up for “Water! Water!” But there was no one to help them, and the roar of the guns mocked their distress. At length, however, one brave fellow, behind the stone ramparts where the Southern forces lay, gave way to his sympathy, and rose superior to his love for life. He was a sergeant in a South Carolina regiment, and his name was Richard Kirkland. In the afternoon he hurried to General Kershaw’s headquarters, and finding the commanding officer, said to him excitedly: “General, I can’t stand this any longer. Those poor souls out there have been praying and crying all night and all day, and it’s more than I can bear. I ask your permission to go and give them water?”

“But, do you know,”‘ said the general, admiring the soldier’s noble spirit, “do you know that as soon as you show yourself to the enemy you will be shot?” “Yes, sir; I know it; but to carry a little comfort to those poor dying men, I’m willing to run the risk.”

“The general hesitated for a moment, but finally said, with emotion: “Kirkland, it’s sending you to your death, but I cannot oppose such a motive as yours. For the sake of it I hope God will protect you. Go.”

Furnished with a supply of water, the brave sergeant immediately stepped over the wall, and applied himself to his work of Christ Like mercy. Wondering eyes looked on as he knelt by the nearest sufferer, and, tenderly raising his head, held the cooling cup to his parched lips. Before his first service of love was finished, every one in the Union lines understood the mission of the noble soldier in gray, and not a man fired a shot. He staid there on that terrible field an hour and a half, giving drink to the thirsty and dying, straightening their cramped and mangled limbs, pillowing their heads on their knapsacks, and spreading their army coats and blankets over them, as mother would cover her child; and all the while he was so engaged, until his gentle ministry was finished, the fusilade of death was hushed.”

So it is on life’s battlefield. The cannonade of sin and wickedness is hushed and powerless before the fearless Christian soldier who dares to do right, even though his life hangs in the balance. — N.W. Christian Advocate.