Not Disobedient to the Heavenly Vision (1872-1874)

March winds, tossing the big elms at Saint Hill and sweeping round the house that had so warmly welcomed Taylor on his return from China, did but make the fireside more homelike when at length he had time to sit down quietly and talk over with the Bergers all that was on their hearts. Six years almost had elapsed since the outgoing of the ‘Lammermuir Party.’ The Mission, which up to that time had had but two stations and seven members, now numbered more than thirty workers, in thirteen central stations at an average of 100 miles apart, with the Bergers giving themselves to its service at home. The task however had proved too much for their strength and must be committed to other hands. But who was to take their place?

The need for the change had come so suddenly that Taylor had no plans in view. The work in China was now a large one, entailing an expenditure of about £300 a month. His own health was much impaired by those six strenuous years, and rest of mind and body would have been welcome in view especially of a spéédy return to the front. But the home base could not be neglected. Unequal as he felt to the task, there was nothing for it but to take up the entire responsibility himself, looking to the Lord to liberate him when and as He should see fit.

‘The change about Mr. and Mrs. Berger’s retiring has tried me a good deal,’ he wrote to a member of the Mission in China early in 1872. ‘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, “Behold, I make all things new.”

Writing to his parents, a few weeks later, Taylor used notepaper bearing the modest heading.

China Inland Mission,

6 Pyrland Road,

Newington Green, N.

It was a far cry from Saint Hill to a little suburban street on the outskirts of London, such as Pyrland Road was in those days. For more than twenty years the entire homework of the Mission was to be carried on from this centre. The weekly prayer meeting was held in the downstairs rooms, two of which could be thrown together by opening the communicating doors; and a bright London lad found his way there one day. Many years later, as a member of the Mission in China, he recalled his first impressions:

‘A large harmonium stood at one side, and various Chinese articles were arranged in other parts of the room, but beyond this there was little either of furniture or decoration. Between a dozen and twenty people were present.

‘Mr. Taylor opened 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 gentle voice. Like most young men, I suppose I associated power with noise, and looked for great physical presence in a leader. But when he said, “Let us pray’, and proceeded to lead the meeting in prayer, my ideas underwerit a change. I had never heard anyone pray like that. There was a simplicity, a tenderness, a boldness, a power that hushed and subdued one, and made it clear that God had admitted him into the inner circle of His friendship. He spoke with God face to face, as a man talketh with his friend. Such praying was evidently the outcome of long tarrying in the secret place, and was as a dew 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.

“The meeting lasted from four to six o’clock, but seemed one of the shortest prayer meetings I had ever attended.’

Longing to press forward with the great task before the Mission, it must have been difficult indeed for Taylor to curb himself to the routine of office work as the days and weeks went by. He was not in haste to rush into new arrangements, having no indication as to what might be the mind of the Lord. But when prayer for the right helpers seemed to bring no answer, and the work to be done kept him busy morning, noon and night, it would have been so easy to be impatient or discouraged! But in the dark days of 1870 he had learned some deep lessons about waiting for, as well as waiting upon God.

The place at Taylor’s side that had been so empty was now taken by one fitted in every way to be a help and comfort. Jennie Faulding, by God’s blessing the life of the women’s work in Hangchow, had been obliged to come home on furlough, and travelling by the same steamer—other arrangements having fallen through at the last moment—Taylor found the regard he had long felt for her developing into something more than friendship. The marriage had not been long delayed, and he was thankful for the children to see as much of her as possible before she returned with him to China. But though it was the home of a bride, the arrangements of Pyrland Road were just as simple as at Coborn Street in the early days.

As they prayed and planned for advance to the unreached interior of China, standing before the large map in the sitting-room, their hearts were moved by the thought—How are these Christless millions to be reached?

‘Have you faith to join me in laying hold upon God for eighteen men to go two and two to those unoccupied provinces?’ asked Taylor at one of the prayer meetings.

They knew what he meant, and then and there covenanted with one another to pray daily in definite faith for this, until the Lord should bring it to pass.

It was about this time that, from unexpected quarters, guidance began to come as to the future management of the home side of the Mission. A friend, Richard Hill, suggested the formation of a Council of Christian friends, not to take any responsibility with regard to the management of affairs on the field, but to divide among themselves the home work of the Mission, thus setting Taylor free to return to China.

This suggestion, reinforced by Hill’s offer to become Hon. Secretary to such a Council, proved a seed thought. The more Taylor considered it, the more he saw that it was simply an enlargement of the plan upon which the C.I.M. had been worked from the beginning. A Council, not a Committee of Management, could undertake many of Mr. Berger’s former responsibilities. Taylor was purposing to leave Emily Blatchley in charge of his children at Pyrland Road. Intimately acquainted with the work both at home and in China, she would be of the greatest assistance to the Council, and would be able to keep up the prayer meeting and provide a ‘centre for returning missionaries. Passing through her hands the daily correspondence could be attended to, and only necessary letters forwarded to the Secretary, while the Council would deal with candidates and with funds, keeping in touch with the friends of the Mission through its Occasional Paper. After some weeks of thought and prayer, therefore, he wrote to Richard Hill on the Ist August:

Could you take tea with us on Tuesday next about 6 p.m. and spend the evening? I would ask one or two friends interested in the work, and Mr. George and Mr. Henry Soltau, to join us, and we might have some quiet prayer and conversation about the Mission and those whose co-operation it would be well to seek; after which, perhaps, we might see our way to further action more clearly. It seems to me that a little time thus spent would be helpful, before asking many either to meet or to join us in the proposed Council.

Quietly, thus, the way opened. The meeting was held and the Council practically formed that night, August 6th, 1872.

After an absence from China of a year and three months, Taylor was prepared to find matters needing a good deal of attention. It had not been possible to leave anyone in charge of the whole work, none of the members of the Mission having sufficient experience to fit them for such a position. On arrival, the travellers learned that although there was cause in the southern stations especially for encouragement, the need for Taylor’s presence was even greater than they had anticipated. Duncan of Nanking had been obliged, through failing health, to relinquish the post he had so bravely held and even then was on his way home, as it proved, to die. The absence of the Judds on furlough had left tie work in the Yangtze valley with little supervision, and it was important.to send someone to take charge without delay. Transferring themselves and_ their belongings to a Chinese boat, Hudson and Jennie Taylor set out forthwith for Hangchow. Warm was the welcome that awaited them in the old home from many who owed their spiritual life, under God, to the one who returned to them now as a bride. McCarthy’s six years in China qualified him for larger responsibilities, and leaving Hangchow to Pastor Wang, he willingly undertook the difficult work on the Yangtze.

Meanwhile Taylor set out to visit all the stations, in some of which sickness and trial of various sorts had told on those who remained, while Chinese leaders had grown cold, some having even lapsed into open sin.

‘Though things are very sadly, they are not hopeless; they will soon look up, with God’s blessing, if looked after,’ he wrote.

In his confidence he went on, prayerfully and patiently, until he had visited every station and almost every outstation in the Mission. Not content with this, he sought out the Chinese workers in each place, so that the evangelists, colporteurs, teachers and Biblewomen, almost without exception, came under his influence.

It was work carried on under special difficulties, for he had all his correspondence and directorial duties to attend to at the same time. It meant constant travelling, through summer heat as well as winter cold, and involved long separations from Jennie, who could not always accompany him. At times they were together in stations that needed an extended visit; or she would stay on where there was sickness, to give help in nursing or among the women. How glad they were of his medical knowledge in those days! for it gave opportunity for really serving their fellowworkers as well as the Chinese Christians. Needless to say it added to Taylor’s burdens, as when he reached a distant station on the Yangtze to find eighty-nine letters awaiting him, and took time to send, the very next day, a page or more of medical directions about ‘A-liang’s baby’—Aliang being a valued helper at Chinkiang.

Such an outpouring of heart and life could not but tell.

‘The Lord is prospering us,’ he wrote to his parents in July; ‘and the work is steadily growing, especially in that most important department, native help. The helpers themselves need much help, much care and instruction; but they are becoming more efficient as well as more numerous, and the future hope for China lies, doubtless, in them. I look on foreign missionaries as the scaffolding round a

rising building; the sooner it can be dispensed with the better—or rather, the sooner it can be transferred to other places, to serve the same temporary purpose.’

After nine months in the Yangtze valley, Taylor turned his attention to the southern stations, in the province of Chekiang. When there the unexpected tidings reached him of the complete breakdown of Emily Blatchley’s health. Apart altogether from sorrow in the thought of her removal was the serious question as to how her place was to be filled. Gifted, devoted, and with some experience, matters had tended more and more to come into her hands. Not only was she keeping the mission-house going, and the weekly prayer meeting; she was editing and sending out the Occasional Paper, dealing with correspondence to a considerable extent, and caring for the children whom she had received as a sacred charge from their mother, the friend she had supremely loved. All this made it difficult indeed to see how her place could be filled; and Taylor, unable for the present to return home, could do nothing.

Already, in addition to the burdens upon him in China, he was tried and perplexed by the irregularity as well as diminution of supplies from home. It was but natural that Mr. Berger’s retirement should continue to be felt in these and other ways. The work had grown up in his hands. To the friends and supporters of the Mission he seemed almost as much a part of it as Taylor himself. His extensive business had given him a familiarity with financial and practical matters that was invaluable, and the needs of the workers in China were upon his heart day and night. This could not be so to the same extent with other friends, no matter how interested and anxious to help. The members of the C.I.M. Council, moreover, were all new to their responsibilities. They did what they could, with no little sacrifice and devotion, but they had experience to gain.

Meanwhile it was in China that the difficulties of the situation were most acutely felt. Taylor did what was possible by correspondence; and irregularities that could not be dealt with in that way had just to be taken to the Lord in faith and prayer. Comparatively small though the Mission was in those days, there were fifty buildings to be kept up and 100 workers provided for, including Chinese helpers. There were all the children besides, in families and schools, making fully 170 mouths to feed daily. Travelling expenses were also a serious item, with a work extending to five provinces and furloughs involving the expensive journey to England. Altogether, Taylor’s estimate of £100 a week as a working average could not be considered extravagant. Indeed, it was only with most careful planning and economy that the work could be carried on vigorously upon that sum.

But there were many weeks and even months in which little or nothing was forwarded to him for the general purposes of the Mission. Funds were not coming in plentifully at home, and many gifts—such as those of, George Miiller and W. T. Berger—were sent to individual workers. This left but little for the general fund, from which home expenses had to be met as well as the current outlay for all but specially supported workers in China.

And now, in addition to this long-continued shortness of funds and all the other difficulties of the work, had come the keen personal sorrow of Emily Blatchley’s illness. Concern about his children, too, was very real. Who was caring for them, or how they would be provided for if their almost mother were taken, he did not know. And before he could be with them again, many months must elapse.

It would be little cause for wonder if, amid such distresses, Taylor’s longing after the multitudes yet unreached had abated; but the really significant thing is that he had never lost the vision. It did but become, if anything, more commanding.

On the first day of January, 1873, he wrote to Emily Blatchley:

I want you to pray daily that God will direct us as to which provinces we should attempt, and how. We have the almighty God with us; the all-wise Counsellor to guide; the indwelling Spirit to give efficacy to the preached Word. Ask for me more simple trust in Him, and boldness to attempt great things. Try to get friends to promise and seriously endeavour to pray daily about the opening up of new provinces to the Gospel. Christ must speedily be proclaimed in them: how and by whom we must ask Him.:

Meanwhile, he was learning to value more than ever the co-operation of Chinese fellow-workers, and was full of plans for developing and using them to the utmost.

‘Tam aiming at such organisation of our forces as will enable us to do more work with fewer foreign missionaries,’ he wrote to his parents in April. ‘I hope I may be able, ere the year closes, to commence a college for the more thorough training of our native helpers. Long desired, there seems more probability of our attaining this than heretofore.’

To place two Chinese helpers in each governing city of a district, with colporteurs in centres of less importance, all under the supervision of an experienced missionary, was the plan kept steadily in view, beginning with the capitals of provinces and departments. It was essential, therefore, to develop the Chinese workers, as well as obtain missionaries of the right kind. Men of faith, with a personal knowledge of God as the Hearer and Answerer of prayers; men of stamina to rough it, and to live as he did in closest contact with the people, were the missionary helpers he longed and prayed for.

‘We are going on into the interior,’ he wrote to a member of the Council somewhat later. ‘If any one is not prepared to rough it, he had better stay at home at once.’

And to another: ‘The only persons wanted here are those who will rejoice to work—teally to labour, not to dream their lives away; to deny themselves; to suffer in order to save.’

Hastening to Shanghai to meet a party of new workers, Taylor’s mind was full of these things, and he was not altogether sorry for the lack of a receiving home, though it involved some inconveniences. It was/his purpose to secure such a home on this visit, for the Mission was growing so large as to need a business centre at the coast. But in the meanwhile he put up at a Chinese inn, glad of the opportunity of seeing what the young men were made of.

Early that November morning the new arrivals had set out to enquire for Taylor. They learned that the leader of the Mission was in Shanghai, and had probably gone down to the steamer to meet them. They turned back therefore, and on the way Judd, who had travelled back to China with them, exclaimed, ‘There is Mr. Taylor!’

“We looked,’ wrote one of his companions, ‘but could only see a Chinaman on a wheelbarrow. The barrow stopped and the figure advanced towards us. It was a good thing that there was someone to do the introducing, for we should never have recognised Mr. Taylor. The weather was cold, and he had on a wadded gown and jacket. Over his head he wore a wind-hood with side pieces which fitted close to the face, leaving nothing but a medallionshaped opening for nose, eyes and mouth. In his hand he grasped a huge Chinese umbrella, which he carried in true native style, handle foremost. In his wadded clothes he looked almost as broad as he was long, and to our foreign eyes was the oddest figure we had ever seen. He said he had made arrangements for the ladies and Mr. Judd to stay with friends in the French Settlement, and, turning to Henry Taylor and myself, added:

“After we have been to the vessel, perhaps you will accompany me to my hotel.”

Little realising what was in store for them, the young men cheerfully agreed.

‘Turning up a side street at right angles to The Bund, Mr. Taylor threaded his way among the crowds till he stopped at the door of a native post office. Passing through the front part of the office, he led the way,to a small door secured by a Chinese lock. This he opened and invited us to follow him up the stairs. It was pitch dark and very ‘narrow, but we stumbled up till we came to a door which he entered. We followed him, and found ourselves in the “hotel”. It consisted of a room about twelve feet square, innocent of any adornment, and containing a square table, a small skin-covered box, and a Chinese food-basket. Along one side was a raised dais, on which, if I remember aright, was spread a Chinese coverlet. A window opened out on to the street, but it had paper of grimy hue instead of glass, and did not count for much in the way of illumination.

‘Mr Taylor very courteously asked us to be seated, and after making enquiries as to our voyage, produced a Bible. He read the seventh chapter of the Gospel by John, and asked what we thought was the meaning of the words, ““That the love wherewith thou hast loved me may be in them, and I in them.” I do not remember what we said, but I was distinctly impressed with the fact that he asked us. Reading over, we knelt down and had prayer together, when he commended us to the Lord who had brought us to China.

‘Such was our first meeting with Mr. Taylor in China. We took in Chinese dress, Chinese food; Chinese ways as a duck to water!’

Leaving the young men at Nanking to their studies in charge of the Judds, Taylor hastened back to Chekiang. The twelve millions of that province, small though it was among the provinces of China, lay heavily on his heart. Far from overlooking, in his growing concern for the interior, needs more immediately around him near the coast, he was stirred with sorrow and shame over the great, waiting fields so easily accessible, that yet had no labourers. Writing to Richard Hill from one of the southern stations in January (1874), he said:

The work is now greatly extending, and I hope will yet do so. If the Lord spare me, and permits me to labour here a year or two more, I trust there will be no county left in this province in which we have not preached Christ, either by located or itinerant labours. At present there are many such. Of the sixtythree Hsien cities in this province (each governing a county) fifteen have workers for Christ resident in them. Ten have been opened by us, five by others; forty-eight remain unopened. In one of them I have just rented a house; to another I hope to send a couple of men tomorrow. If they succeed in obtaining an opening, there will still be four Fus and forty-six Hsiens—ifty cities in all to be possessed for Christ. And in the meantime, how many precious souls will have passed beyond the reach of the Gospel! The Lord help us to be faithful. The claims of my family at home on the one hand, and the claims of the perishing heathen here on the other, cast me in an agony upon the Lord: _ ‘Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?’

The position was indeed a perplexing one. There was need for his presence.in England, but the state of funds made it almost impossible for him to leave the workers on the field. And ail the while his sense of responsibility deepened for the multitudes around him, so dark, so needy, so accessible! In his letter of January 26th to Hill, he continued:

Last week I was at Taiping, one of the unopened cities I have referred to. My heart was greatly moved by the crowds that literally filled the streets for two or three miles, so that we could hardly walk—for it was market day. We did but little preaching, as we were seeking a place for permanent work, but I was constrained ‘to retire to the city wall and cry to God to have mercy on the people, to open their hearts and give us an entrance among them.

Without any seeking on our part we were brought into touch with at least four anxious souls. An old man found me out, I know not how, and followed me to our boat. I asked him in, and enquired his name.

‘My name is Dzing. But the question which distresses me, and to which IJ can find no answer, is—What am I to do with my sins? Our scholars tell us that there is no future state, but I find it hard to believe them.’

‘Do not believe any such thing,’ I replied, ‘for there is an endless future before every one of us. One must either burn for ever in hell fire, or rejoice for ever in heavenly bliss.’

‘Then what can I do; what am I to do with my sins?’ Gladly then I told him of a living, loving God—our Father in Heaven; pointing to various proofs of His fatherly love and care.

‘Yes!’ he interrupted, ‘and what are we to do to recompense such favour, such goodness? I do not see how it is to be recompensed. Our scholars say that if we worship Heaven and Earth and the idols at the end of the year, it is enough. But that does not satisfy me.’:

The poor old man told me of all the idols he worshipped, and was quite overwhelmed to think that in doing so he was sinning against the true and living God. It takes time for the mind to grasp such a

total reversal of all it has believed for well-nigh seventy years. When my companions returned he listened again to the wonderful story of the Cross, and left us soothed and comforted—yet evidently bewildered—to think over all he had heard, more than glad to know that we had rented a house and hoped soon to have Christian colporteurs resident in the city.

Little wonder such an experience brought to a crisis the exercise of mind through which Taylor had been passing.

Two women in the same city, and a young man, had shown similar earnestness in learning from his Chinese companions the way of Life. Multitudes from the surrounding towns and villages would come on marketdays to the little ‘Gospel Hall,’ and there the enquirers would be taught until they in their’turn could become teachers of others. Just the same work needed doing in all the fifty cities throughout the province that still remained without the message of salvation. And oh, the great Beyond! Must he hold his hand, and refrain from going forward as the way opened, on account of financial straitness, or the needs that seemed to call him home?

God’s resources, he was assured, were equal to the occasion. What was required of him was to honour Him with a full trust. In his Bible he wrote the record of what he did that day.

Taichow, January 27th, 1874: Asked God for fifty or 100 additional Chinese evangelists, and as many foreign superintendents as may be needed, to open up the four F'us and forty-eight Hsiens still unoccupied in Chekiang; also for the men to break into the nine unoccupied provinces. Asked in the Name of Jesus. I thank Thee, Lord Jesus, for the promise whereon Thou hast given me to rest. Give me all needed strength of body, wisdom of mind, grace of soul to do this Thy so great work. Amen.

It was not until many years later, when Taylor could look back over all the way in which the Lord had led him, that he was impressed with the fact that every important advance in the development of the Mission had sprung from or been directly connected with times of sickness or suffering which had cast him in a special way upon God. It was to be so now; as though a deeper preparedness of spirit were needed, before he could be trusted with the answer to this prayer.

There was quite enough, as far as outward experiences went, to account for the serious illness that overtook him before he could get back to his temporary quarters at Fenghwa. In the depth of winter he had been almost incessantly on the road for weeks past, bearing an unusual strain even for him, physically and mentally. Then came the news that the Crombies were threatened with the loss of their children. This meant hard travelling over mountain passes deep in snow; and before he could return a messenger had come in haste from a more distant station with news of a whole family down with smallpox. |

Taylor set out once more to cross the mountains. It was a desperate business facing January storms on those heights, more than one of which could only be scaled by steps literally cut in the rock. Anxieties pressed sorely upon him with regard to Emily Blatchley and his children at home, as well as in connection with the shortness of funds in China.

‘Well, the Lord reigns,’ he had written to his mother from a wretched inn-on the road. “Trials cannot rob me of this unchanging source of joy and strength.’

But the overtaxed physical powers at length gave way, and his patients were no sooner convalescent than Taylor himself went down with fever, and was so ill as to be hardly able to get back to Fenghwa. The interval, from the time when they were out of danger until he could safely leave them, he had employed in the evangelistic journey which brought him in touch with old Dzing, and led to the definite prayer recorded above.

And now, how unpromising seemed the sequel to that step of faith! Week after week he lay in helplessness and suffering, able to do nothing but wait upon the Lord. Of all that in His providence’ was drawing near, Hudson Taylor was unconscious. He only knew that God had given him to see something of the purposes of His heart; that he was sharing in some measure the compassions of Christ for the lost and perishing, and that the love of which he felt the yearnings was His own infinite love. That that love, that purpose, would find a way to bless, he could not doubt. So he just prayed on—holding in faith to the heavenly vision; ready to go forward when and as the Lord should open the way. Never had advance seemed less possible. But in the Bible beside him was the record of that transaction of his soul with God, and in his heart was the conviction that even for the inland provinces—the western branch of the mission he longed to plant, as a stepping-stone to the far interior God’s time had almost come.

And then, as he lay there slowly recovering, a letter was put into his hands that had been two months on its way from England. It was from an unknown friend, a Mrs. Grace of Wycombe, Buckinghamshire, who had only recently become interested in the Mission.

“My dear Sir,’ the somewhat trembling hand had written early in December, ‘J bless God, in two months I hope to place at the disposal of your Council, for further extension of China Inland Mission work, £800. Please remember, for fresh provinces.’

The very secrets of his heart seemed to look back at him from that sheet of notepaper. Even before the prayer recorded in his Bible, the letter had been sent off; and now, just when it was most needed, it had reached him with its wonderful confirmation.

From his sick-room back to the Yangtze valley was the next step, and those spring days witnessed a happy gathering at Chinkiang. Over a year of patient, plodding work in China had done much to improve the situation he had found on arrival. In almost all the stations, new life was coming to the little companies of believers, and the young missionaries who had made good progress with the language, were eager for pioneering work. As many as could leave their stations came to meet Taylor for a week of prayer and conference, before he and Judd set out to seek, up the great river, a home for the new Western Branch.

It was not any improvement in the state of funds that accounted for the new note of joy and confidence.

‘I feel no anxiety,’ he wrote to his mother on the Ist May, ‘though for a month past I have not had a dollar in hand for the general purposes of the Mission. The Lord will provide.’

To Jennie he had written during April, ‘The balance in hand yesterday was sixty-seven cents! The Lord reigns: herein is our joy and confidence.’ And when the balance was still lower, ‘We have twenty-five cents—and all the promises of God.’

One thing that concerned Taylor more at this time than shortness of supplies was the fear lest, in their desire to help, friends at home should be tempted to make appeals in meetings, or even more personally, for funds. To one and another he wrote very earnestly on the subject, begging that this might not be done. The trial through which they were passing was no reason, to his mind, for changing the basis on which they had been led to found the Mission. In acknowledging one of George Miiller’s generous contributions he had written early in April:

The work generally is very cheering, and we feel happier than ever in the Lord and in His service. Our faith never was so much tried: His faithfulness never so much experienced.

This position was to him far more safe and blessed, as long as the trial was permitted, than the alternative of going into debt or making appeals to man. How truly this was the case may be seen from the following letter to a member of the Council, written just after the Conference at Chinkiang (April 24th):

I am truly sorry that you should be distressed at not having funds to send me. After living on God's faithfulness for many years, I can testify that times of want have ever been times of special blessing, or have led to them. I do beg that never any appeal for funds be put forward, save to God in prayer. When our work becomes a begging work, it dies. God is faithful, must be so. He has said: “Take no thought (anxiety) for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink, nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on.... But seek... first (to promote) the kingdom of God, and (to fulfil) his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.’

It is doubting, beloved brother, not trusting that is tempting the Lord.

At this very time, it is interesting to notice, the Taylors were themselves giving largely to the work in various ways. A considerable proportion of all they received for their own use was passed on to fellow-workers, and a property yielding an income of £400 a’year, which had recently come to Jennie from a relative, was joyfully set apart for the Lord’s service. The intimate friend to whom Taylor was writing had questioned the wisdom of this course, which led to one of the few references he ever made to the subject. Anxious that their position should not be misunderstood, he continued in this letter:

As to the property my dear wife has given to the Lord for His service, I most cordially agreed with her in the step, and do so now. I believe that in so doing she has made hers for ever that which was her Master’s, and only entrusted to her so to use. It is not a modern question, this of principal or interest, endowment or voluntary support, and we cannot expect all to see alike on the subject. We might capitalise the annual income of the Mission, and use only the interest; but I fear the income would soon be small, and the work not very extensive.

But you may, I think, be mistaken as to our... intention, as weil as with regard to the nature of the property. The whole cannot be realised, half of it being reserved to provide annuities. At present all we have is about £400 of annual interest, payable in varying quarterly sums. We do not propose to put either principal or interest into the General Fund (though we might be led to do so), but to use it, equally avoiding stint or lavishness, as the Lord may direct, for special purposes not met by the General Fund. We are neithér of us inexperienced, unacquainted with the value of money, or unaccustomed either-to its want or possession. There are few more cool and calculating, perhaps, than we are; but in all our calculations we calculate on God’s faithfulness, or seek to do so. Hitherto we have not been put to shame, nor have I any anxiety or fear lest we should be in the future.