Chapter 19.
Before us is a list of the Refuges Hsi was enabled to open in the years immediately following 1887: a long list, and most significant; embracing city after city, town after town, province after province (see next page). Eight places on the populous plain around the capital; five cities in the far south of Shan-si; five cities still farther south, in He-nan; Si-an Fu itself, and other important centers in adjacent princes — in all, more than twenty Refuges opened within six years, and every one of them in places where no missionary work was being done.
“For I the Lord thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not; I will help thee. Fear not, thou worm Jacob, and ye few men of Israel; I will help thee, saith the Lord thy God, thy Redeemer ... And thou shalt rejoice in the Lord, thou shalt glory in the Holy One of Israel.”
“When men are cast down, then thou shalt say, There is lifting up.”
And all this began in the dark days of the very darkest time he was ever called to go through. For it was then, while Hsi was all alone at Hungtung, only a few weeks after the outbreak of the Fan troubles, that a messenger arrived calling him to the capital to meet Mr. Stevenson, whose visit led to these important developments.
It was August 1887 when, sad at heart, he took that solitary journey. How changed were all his circumstances since the time, only one year before, when Mr. Hudson Taylor had come down that very road. Then, all had promised brightly for the future, and fresh opportunities of usefulness called for redoubled effort. Now, difficulties and discouragements had closed in on every hand, and nothing but a sea of troubles loomed ahead.
Wonderfully, at such a time, the Lord knows how to open new vistas of hope, fresh springs of encouragement. “His understanding is infinite.” Do you feel helpless as “a bruised reed?” Is all your best nothing but “smoking flax?” Then look up. Your case is just the one for Him. Like Hsi, you shall rejoice to find He still has need of you. There is uplifting.
It was beautiful how it all came about. One chief object of Mr. Stevenson’s visit was to discuss with Hsi plans that were ripening in his own mind for large extension of the Refuge work. A forward movement was just beginning in the evangelization of the province; and it was felt that as an auxiliary agency in opening up new districts and gaining the confidence of the people, nothing could be more helpful than Hsi’s system, under his own supervision.
One of the missionaries at the capital was ready to work with him and provide the money needful for renting premises all over the P’ing-yao plain. And there would be no difficulty about the initial expenses in other districts also. The suggestion was for Hsi to undertake all the responsibility, find and train workers, decide upon suitable localities, and establish Refuges as widely as possible, beginning with the above mentioned plain; and that the Mission should follow up the openings thus made, by caring for the spiritual interests of the work. No more enthusiastic associate could have been found than Mr. Orr Ewing, already winning for himself among Shansi Christians the beautifully suggestive name of “Glory face”; and no more appreciative director than Mr. Stevenson, who had so sympathetic an understanding of Hsi’s life and work.
The plain suggested was an important region lying immediately south of the capital. With a population of fully a million, it had nine governing cities, and no fewer than four thousand towns and villages, in none of which missionary work had as yet been commenced. Chief of all these cities was P’ing-yao, the great banking center of North China, which gave its name to the plain. Crowded with merchants and scholars, and visited by a constant stream of travelers, this city in itself offered a most important sphere for the Gospel. And reaching out from it in all directions lay a perfect network of towns and villages of which it was the governing center.
The idea was, if the Lord opened the way, to obtain a footing in P’ing-yao city first of all. The Opium Refuge as an entering wedge would soon make it possible for Mr. Orr Ewing to secure a house and make his headquarters there. And further extension would follow. Then, from Hohchau in the south, across the whole length of the plain, Hsi was to open a chain of Refuges, one in each walled city if possible, many of which it was hoped would develop into permanent stations of the Mission.
It was a large programme, and Hsi was greatly encouraged; although for the time being his circumstances did not admit of much advance in the direction indicated. He went back to Hung-tung richer in friends and in sympathy, with new fellowship in prayer, and an outlook that inspired hope and strengthened patience through dark days yet to come.
Among Hsi’s most promising helpers at that time was a young farmer named Hsü, from a village a few miles west of Chao-ch’eng. When the Refuge was first opened in that city, Hsü was a confirmed opium smoker, and in course of time he was persuaded to try what the strangers could do to cure a craving as bad as his.
With no thought of becoming a Christian, Hsü went into the city and presented himself at the Refuge for admission. He was a tall, fine looking young fellow, but sadly affected already by the degrading influence of opium. With unusual ability and a fair education, he was a man to make his mark for good or ill: just the sort of man most welcome in Hsi’s Refuges, though he little guessed the reason why.
Much prayer was made on his behalf, and his cure was entirely successful; though to the sorrow of the Refuge workers, he left as he came, unconverted. But this was cause for jubilation among his family and friends, whose one fear had been lest he should return to them “bewitched.”
Their satisfaction, however, was premature. For a time all went well. But cold, rainy days came, and trying experiences in business. Young Hsu was out of sorts and downhearted. The old solace was close at hand. Forgetting the bitter consequences, he went back to his opium pipe. And then the descent was rapid. He relapsed completely into his former habits, and was soon worse off than before.
Months after, remorseful and wretched, he crept back again to his best friends. The doers of the Refuge were open to receive him. Love and care were lavished upon his cure. Until, broken-down, the poor opium smoker wept his way to the feet of Jesus. Then it was that Hsi got hold of him, and brought him to his own home for further help and teaching. There Hsü found complete deliverance. His opium habit was finally conquered. And from that time he gave all his life to saving others, body and soul.
Attractive, genial, gifted as a speaker, and full of tact and courage, Hsu was well fitted to win his way in a new and difficult sphere. But more than all this, was the deep reality of his spiritual life, his love for souls, prayerfulness, and real devotion.
This was the man Hsi was planning to use as a pioneer in the new enterprise. Hsü was eager for the task. And as soon as respite from pressing difficulties made it possible, he was sent forth in prayer and faith to P’ing-yao. Plunged as a stranger into the busy life of that great city, Hsu needed all the help that came to him from those that held the ropes at home. “unprayed for,” said the missionary pioneer of Mongolia, “I feel like a diver at the bottom of the sea cut off from his air supply; or a fireman on a burning building, with an empty hose.” But Hsü was riot forgotten, and in answer to prayer the Refuge at P’ing-yao soon became an established fact.
Meanwhile, in yet another direction, Hsi was being drawn into new developments as unexpected as they were encouraging. A week’s journey from P’ing-yao, away in the south of the province, lay the busy city of Wen-hsi, with its hundreds of opium smokers but no Refuge. The fame of Hsi’s treatment had made its way to this district; and during the winter of 1888, a man who knew nothing of the Christians, but was eager to be cured if possible, traveled up painfully to Hung-tung.
Weary with his journey, cold and forlorn as an opium smoker can be on wintry days, he inquired his way to the Refuge, and was directed to the handsome doorway on Grain Market Street. This looked hopeful. And when the gate keeper admitted him to a spacious, well-kept courtyard, on which the Refuge opened, he felt he had come to the right place. Still more was he pleased with the welcome that encouraged him to tell his story.
A hundred miles away, in Wen-hsi city, he had heard of the honorable Refuge. His case was almost hopeless. But as a last resort he had made the difficult journey. He was prepared to meet necessary expenses, and hoped that the benevolent doers of good deeds would take him in.
Once at home in the Refuge, the new patient found plenty to occupy time and attention. Full of wonder, he was never tired of asking questions about all that was going on. The singing, the preaching, the kindliness of the Christians, the strange power of their prayer answering God, all interested him deeply.
“If I had only known,” he said, “I would have come years ago.”
Delivered at length from his opium habit, the time came for leaving the Refuge. But it was hard to say goodbye. And the Wen-hsi patient left half his heart behind him, when he went back to the south of the province.
Not long after, two or three other strangers arrived from that distant city. “Oh, we are friends of Mr. He has told us about the illustrious Refuge. We too want to be cured and believe in Jesus.”
And all through the winter this went on. One after another, or in little groups, these Wen-hsi men appeared, smiling and friendly; though more or less miserable, all of them, through the ravages of opium. One by one they went back; well in body and enlightened, if not saved in soul. And always there were more to follow. Until in the course of that one season, no fewer than a hundred patients from Wen-hsi had passed through the Hung-tung Refuge. And most encouraging of all was the interest they showed in the Gospel. Many became inquirers; and some, earnest Christians.
“Truly,” said Hsi at length, “it is God that gives the increase. While we are ready to faint through many afflictions, He is working out in new and unexpected places His purposes of grace. The Lord is never weary and never discouraged. Oh, that we may more closely walk with Him.”
So great was the interest in Wen-hsi, that a Refuge had to be opened there, which became a center of much blessing. Hsi paid several visits to the city. And later on, four other Refuges were established in that part of the province, one of which was in an important place on the banks of the Yellow River.
Up at P’ing-yao also, the work was attended with blessing. Hsu’s Refuge was successful, financially and spiritually. Hsi visited the district often, planning for further developments. He waited much upon God about every step, praying to be guided to the right places and the right men for the work. And the hand of the Lord was with him. In four of the chief cities on the plain and several lesser towns and villages, Refuges were opened which became centers of light and blessing. Mr. Orr Ewing came to live at P’ing-yao; and other missionaries followed. Finally, three of the Refuges developed into mission stations, which are still carried on. Six years from the spring of 1888, when Hsü commenced the work, a conference was held in P’ing-yao city, attended by over ninety church members, at which nineteen men were baptized. And many more believers, who could not be present, were scattered in village homes throughout the district.
Still the work grew, and Hsi grew with it. In that same winter of 1888, tidings reached him that drew his heart very specially to the great plain of Si-an, beyond the western mountains. There, walled about in proud exclusiveness, lay the ancient city, once capital of China, that had never opened its gates to the residence of foreigners. No missionaries were working there, and the bitter opposition of the wealthy and educated classes made their entrance impossible. And all around Si-an stretched the vast plain, fertile, populous, unreached: twelve thousand square miles of country; with twenty-one walled cities, sixty market towns, and almost countless villages crowded with people, among whom no witnesses for Christ had been able to gain a footing.
“I heard,” writes Hsi in his brief record of these years, “that Si-an, the provincial capital, had several times refused to allow missionaries to settle within its walls. I therefore prayed that the Lord would guide me, and enable me to open a Refuge in that city; that by means of curing opium smokers, I might lead some to trust in the Lord Jesus, and make it manifest that the sole object the foreign teachers have in view is the announcement of good tidings, able to save the body as well as the soul.”
No wonder his heart was drawn out in longing toward such a sphere. But it was one thing to pray for Si-an and sympathize with the missionaries who had suffered there, and quite another to attempt its evangelization. No city perhaps in all China, was at that time more conservative and anti-foreign. It was at a distance from his home, several days journey across the Yellow River; and in another province, where the difference of dialect and customs would at once proclaim him a stranger. He had no friends there, no openings, no influence. And the fact of his connection with foreigners and faith in the religion they preached, would stamp the Refuge work as suspicious, and might even put his life in danger. But the missionaries could suffer for Si-an. Why should not he?
Could he have known of the brave attempt being made, even then, by one such lonely worker, how much more eagerly would he have longed to share his sufferings for Jesus’ sake. For far away on the other side of the city, Mr. Botham was praying and toiling patiently for the evangelization of that populous plain. During the preceding summer, single-handed and far from strong, oppressed by the great heat and still greater loneliness, he had spent months in traveling among those scores of towns and cities, facing the problem of how to bring the Gospel “to every creature” in the parish he had taken for his own.
“It is hard work,” he said to a friend at Hanchung, “and there is apparently little prospect of success. But I am willing to walk in the dark with God.”
“In the dark with God!” exclaimed his brother missionary. “Why, in Him and with Him is no darkness at all.”
“He that followeth me shall not walk in darkness.” It seemed as if the Lord Himself brought home the message. And from that time there was always light amid the loneliness; for he dwelt with God.
As winter came on, Botham was joined by two other devoted pioneers; and when spring returned he was married, and the brave little band was cheered by the coming of his young wife, a spirit as heroic as any. There were four of them then on the plain, traveling from place to place, unable to settle anywhere, living in inns on native foods, and dressing just like the people around them; homeless summer and winter, but for their home in one another’s love and in the love of God. Yet they were satisfied. And the young husband could write: Homeless as we are, I am never so happy as when, with all my worldly goods on one donkey and my wife on another, I start out to carry the Gospel to some new place on the Si-an plain.”
In those days they never felt it safe for more than two of the party to be in any one place at a time; and even two had to make their visits short, for fear of raising an excitement among the people. They literally obeyed the Lord’s command: “When they persecute you in one city, flee ye to another.” And they found it advisable to flee quite often.
“But we were careful,” wrote Mr. Botham, “always to flee in a circle! And coming back to the same places frequently, the people grew accustomed to seeing us, and opposition began to die away.”
Even in the most troubled times they were better off than their Master; for, as they frequently reminded themselves, there was no room for Him, even in the inn. And the great compensation was that bitter and painful experiences only drew them more closely to His heart. Sometimes they blamed themselves for feeling so keenly the dreadful things said about them, and the public placards accusing them of atrocious crimes. But one day they remembered the cry of the world’s Saviour: “Reproach hath broken my heart.” And this comforted them. For were they not drinking His cup; sharing with Him the shame and scorn they could not get accustomed to?
On one occasion, meeting their fellow workers coming from a city where there had been much opposition, the Bothams inquired whether they had been able to do anything there under the circumstances. “Yes, we were able to praise the Lord!” responded the young men gladly. Upon which their friends also thanked God and took courage.
But Hsi knew nothing of all this, though his thoughts and prayers were increasingly directed toward Si-an. On account of the difficulty of the undertaking, he had decided to go himself, whenever the way opened. And at length, sure of divine guidance, he seized an opportunity when all was going well in the Refuges, and set out on the long and lonely journey. His brief manuscript supplies but little record of his experiences, and other sources of information are few. But the fact of chief importance is that he was prospered.
On the way he seems to have met with a military mandarin, a Mohammedan, who was traveling in the same direction. Pleased with the scholarly stranger, this man made many inquiries as to his connections and the object of his journey. When he found that Hsi was a doctor, prepared to undertake the cure of opium smokers, he promptly confessed that he himself was a slave to the habit, but most anxious to be free. With this object in view, he befriended Hsi on their arrival in Si-an, and materially helped him in securing suitable premises. Then, in spite of the difference of their religious opinions, he put himself into Hsi’s hands for treatment; and in answer to prayer his case was successfully dealt with. This favorable beginning did much to ensure success, for the mandarin was well known and had many opium smoking friends.
Finding the Refuge likely to prosper, Hsi sent back to Elder Si for two reliable men; and having spent some weeks preaching and teaching in the city, he left them in charge, returning to visit the work from time to time.
A year later, when Si-an was crowded with scholars for the annual examination, two wealthy young fellows, sons of a retired mandarin, came up to take their degree. Fond of gay company, they had easily fallen into the habit of opium smoking, and were now suffering from the vice they could not conquer. On the streets of the great metropolis they met their old military friend the Mohammedan mandarin. After profound salutations, the young men, surprised by the change in his appearance, exclaimed: “Some great good fortune has surely befallen you, General. You never looked better in your life. What accounts for this renewal of youth?”
“Good fortune indeed,” replied the older man, smiling. “And good fortune that you may share. I have given up opium smoking.”
“Why! Is it possible? By what magic could you accomplish this? And did you say there is hope for us too?”
“By all means. Come, and I will take you to the place where my friend Hsi of P’ing-yang applies his remarkable treatment.”
Delighted with all they saw, the brothers decided to make the most of the opportunity; and, released from the examination hall, they hastened to the Refuge and put themselves under the care of the Christians. Weeks went by, during which they learned much of the Truth; and when, completely cured, they left the city, it was with feelings of the deepest gratitude and interest.
But what shall be said of the satisfaction of the father who received them home again, well and strong as they had not been for years? When the old gentleman heard their story, and learned that the Christians had refused the large sum of money pressed upon them over and above the usual payment, he was so delighted that he ordered a beautiful pien, or presentation tablet, to be made and sent to the Refuge, with a glowing inscription in praise of the work and its virtuous promoters. This valuable gift was suspended in the guest hall; and in a city so full of official and scholarly men as Si-an, it proved of no little service.
By the blessing of God the Refuge continued to prosper. Numbers of men were delivered from the opium habit, and not a few became interested in the Gospel. On one of his visits to the city, Hsi found four or five inquirers who had given up idolatry, one of whom was evidently a sincere believer in Jesus. This man, whose name was Chang, was most anxious to be baptized. There were no Christians in the city but the Refuge keepers; nor was there any organized church within hundreds of miles. But after prayer and fasting, Hsi decided to receive him, and Chang was baptized: the first believer thus to confess his faith in Christ on all the plain. Several others subsequently joined the little group; and Hsi was greatly helped on more than one occasion by the faith and earnestness he found among these Si-an converts.
Meanwhile a change was coming, gradually, all over the surrounding district. The labors of Mr. and Mrs. Botham and their companions began to tell. Their prayers and tears were not forgotten. The new day dawned slowly, but it dawned at last. The people from being less suspicious, began to grow interested, and even friendly. As the missionaries moved from place to place, they would gather in large numbers to listen to the Gospel. The women came to look for Mrs. Botham’s visits, and flocked around her, bringing out chairs and tea. The lives of the missionaries had done their work. Homeless for years, they had lived openly among the people; inviting observation; friendly, approachable, all the time. They had borne patiently the obloquy heaped upon them, returning for evil only good. The gospel of their living made way for the message they preached. At length they were able to settle permanently — in one city, in another, anywhere they wished. Three years only from the time Mr. and Mrs. Botham established their first little home on the plain, seven regular mission stations were opened, with foreigners quietly resident in each.
For the Lord had been preparing His own reinforcements to take up and carry on the work. Far away in America, His hand was leading. The devoted Fransen, a Swedish evangelist, fired with missionary zeal, carried revival through the Scandinavian churches from New York to the Pacific coast. A hundred missionaries, as a result, sailed for China in two or three parties, and were received by the Inland Mission. Most of them went up north — to Shansi, to Mongolia, to the Si-an plain.
There they followed the pioneers who so long had held the fort alone, and entered into their labors. Full of love and zeal, they opened station after station, in which they are living and working still.
At length, with unquestioning faith, one of their brethren approached the capital itself. More experienced workers, who knew the difficulty of the task, sought to dissuade him, saying that educationally and in other ways he lacked fitness to influence the cultured classes of Si-an. But Holman had heard the call of God, and was not afraid to go to that proud city with no message and no power but the love of Jesus.
He secured a house, and an attentive hearing for the Gospel. And when, roused to indignation, leading scholars and officials came to turn him out, he made no objection, but welcomed them as honored guests; entertained them with the best he could provide; and asked if they were fond of music, and would like to hear his guitar. This was too much for their curiosity! They had never heard foreign music, and begged him to bring the instrument. Inwardly crying to God for protection, Holman sang hymn after hymn to simple Swedish melodies, until somehow prejudice was disarmed and his enemies were listening to the Gospel. The result was peace. Holman was left in possession. Half-interested and half-amused, his would-be opponents went away, won to neutrality if not friendship. Thus the Swedish mission station in the capital was established, and continues to this day.
Will not those who read the story, share the privilege of this work by earnest prayer that, now, a great outpouring of spiritual blessing may be granted in and around these stations opened at no little cost?
While these events were transpiring on the Si-an plain, Hsi’s sympathies had again been aroused by hearing of the sufferings of other pioneer missionaries in the neighboring province of Honan. Due south from his own district, across the Yellow River, lay that broad, populous region, with its strong, splendid, but turbulent people. A brave attempt was being made to plant the Gospel in some of its over one hundred governing cities — all without a missionary. Riots had followed in place after place, and the evangelists were obliged to flee. Hua’ing Fu was the city in question when Hsi heard the tidings; and as it was in the northern part of the province, only just over the border, he could not but desire to introduce the Refuge work there, in the hope that it might facilitate future operations. The danger was even greater than on the Si-an plain, because of the formidable character of the people. But they were so well worth reaching, whatever the cost.
After much prayerful consideration, Hsi felt he had been led to the right man, and that the time had come for this fresh advance. Ch’eng was more than willing to go; and, taking money and medicines with him, followed by the sympathy and prayers of the Hung-tung church, he set out.
No friendly traveler joined him on his journey, nor did any one seem disposed to help him when he reached the city. Opium-smokers were plentiful; and so apparently were houses; but landlords wanting tenants, there seemed none. No one would rent to him; no one was interested in the idea of a Refuge. For the Honanese are reserved and cautious. At the first glance they saw that Ch’eng was not a native of the province; and it did not take long to discover that he had “Eaten the foreign devils’ doctrine,” and was thus connected with the missionaries they had driven away. Prejudice filled their hearts. And though all he said was reasonable and interesting, they did not believe his fine sentiments, and wanted none of them.
But Ch’eng’s Christianity went deeper than they had surmised. It made him patient and persistent, for reasons they could not guess, and enabled him to bear in a gracious spirit all the rebuffs with which his advances were met. It was stronger far than all their opposition, for it had behind it the Love that many waters cannot quench.
Still the circumstances were painful enough, and sitting one day in a tea shop, Ch’eng was weary and discouraged. There was no opening anywhere. The people seemed determined to freeze him out by studied indifference. Lonely and far from home, what would he have given for a word of sympathy and kindly cheer?
Just then he caught sight of a forlorn figure coming down the busy street, a man who seemed even more in need of a helping hand than himself. He was evidently a stranger, and to judge by the remarks made about his pitiable appearance, was the victim of some misfortune. Followed by a group of jeering lads, he made his way toward the tea shop, respectable people standing at a distance to see what was going on. They all knew his story, and were ready to give information.
He was a traveler from a distance. Passing the city a few days previously, he had been attacked and robbed. Without a cash in his pocket or a decent garment on his back, who could be expected to befriend him! At first he seemed to think that Huai-k’ing people were easily moved to benevolence. But he was finding out his mistake. No one, of course, would involve themselves in such an affair. They did not want to be drawn into a lawsuit; or to have him left upon their hands! The more sick and suffering he was, the more serious the responsibility. And so on. But Ch’eng could not stand it.
Moved with pity, he hastened to the unhappy stranger, who could hardly believe his good fortune when he looked into a kindly face and saw that he had found a friend. Ch’eng led him to the inn at which he himself was staying, and having supplied his immediate needs, set about making arrangements for the remainder of his journey. Properly clothed and shaven, with his queue freshly plaited, the stranger looked what he was, a gentleman; and people began to feel ashamed of the way he had been treated in their city. Responding in a cordial spirit to the readily proffered advice of onlookers, Ch’eng completed his task. And by the time he had provided his grateful protege’ with money to take him home, and had sent him off in the care of a competent carter, he was himself surrounded by a little group of respectable people disposed to be friendly.
From that moment, the tide began to turn. All over the city, the facts called forth appreciative comment. Generous, when once their hearts are touched, the people could not but feel that they had misunderstood the quiet, kindly stranger. Seen in this new light, his religion was not so bad after all! And evidently his sympathetic spirit made him just the man for the difficult work he wanted to undertake. Why not give him a house, and see what he could do for opium smokers? Surely there were enough ruined lives in their city to make such a movement desirable.
So Ch’eng obtained his Refuge. And the work was made a blessing. For difficulties are nothing. We open our own doors or shut them. And the solemn word, “I give unto you the keys of the kingdom of heaven,” is more true for all of us, in daily life, than we sometimes realize. We make our own opportunities. And Christlike deeds, prompted by His own Spirit, open closed hearts to Christ.
Time fails to tell of many other developments that crowded these busy years. Hsi’s life, in a very real sense, had gone down like the corn of wheat into darkness and death; and now the time had come for “much fruit” in blessing to himself and others. Six years only after the outbreak of the Fan troubles, he was carrying on Refuge work in more than forty places, scattered over an area as large as England and Wales together. His hopes had been realized as regards providing employment for Christian men needing help, for the staff of trained workers in his Refuges numbered about two hundred. And the outcome in lives uplifted and blessed, was more than he had asked or thought; for many hundreds of patients were now passing through his Refuges annually, many, many of whom were won as trophies to lay at the Master’s feet.
“TELL ABROAD GOD’S TRUTH”
This hymn, beginning “Fens Chu Ch’ai ch’ien, meng Chu ch’ai ch’ien,” was written by Pastor Hsi, on the occasion of two native brethren leaving Hung-tung for Wu-an (North He-nan), about 150 miles east of Hung-tuns city.
In dutiful submission
To Christ the Lord’s commission
His kingdom to extend towards the East;
The Hung-tung Church farewelling,
Ye for a time are leaving
To tell abroad the love of God to man.
CHORUS
May traveling mercies be vouchsafed by God to thee,
May cities you pass through hear Jesus preached by von.
Then — Satan defeated,
Your mission completed —
Chanting songs of Victory, Return.
Despising Earthly pleasure,
Esteeming Heavenly treasure,
To preach the Truth in Ancient Wei ye go:
Exhorting and beseeching
The Churches ye are leaving
That mutual love should ever fostered be.
With Jesus for our Leader,
Our Captain and Preceder
We follow trump and standard to Lu-an:
Today we meet together,
By grace we’ll meet hereafter,
Enjoying even more the love of God.
Enrolled as Christ’s own soldier,
Through Fellowship grown bolder,
Benevolence and righteousness our arms:
In Church we meet together,
In Heaven we’ll be forever,
In everlasting Blessedness with God.