1913. AGE 25
Having set my hand to the plow, my resolution was peremptorily taken, the Lord helping me, never to look back anymore, and never to make a half-hearted work of it. Having chosen missionary work in India, I gave myself wholly up to it in the determination of my own mind. I united or wedded myself to it in a covenant the ties of which should be severed only by death, Ray. ALEXANDER DUFF, D.D.
CAIRO WITH ITS BRILLIANT SUNSHINE and lure of color and all its dust and heat was not new to Borden. He had visited it with the Rev. Walter Erdman eight years previously, when they had traveled up the Nile to Aswan, seven hundred miles toward the heart of the dark continent. The colossal ruins of Karnak, the rock-hewn tombs of the kings, the temples of Thebes and Philae, the statues of Memnon and other remains of the ancient world stirred them profoundly. From Aswan William had written:
Upper Egypt completely fulfills my expectations―the Nile itself, the contrast of the fresh green fields with the quivering sand beyond, the groves of date palms, villages of flat-roofed houses, camels with their dusky riders crossing the desert which stretches away as far as eye can see. It really is delightful.
Our first donkey ride in Egypt took us through the town and out into the desert to the Bishareen encampment. These people are Soudanese, I believe, and very different from any others we have seen. They wear their hair hanging in loose gimlet curls, about eight inches long. They are quite black and have clear-cut features, at least those we have seen have.
There really is an awful mess of Orientals here in Egypt, very difficult to sort out! There are Egyptians and Turks as white as any of us, who wear the red fez, the only way I have of knowing them to be natives. Then there are people of various shades of blackness who wear the fez also. Besides these there are innumerable Arabs, Soudanese and other races.
But now it was as a missionary, not a traveler, that Borden was in Cairo―that great city that Dr. Maltbie Babcock wrote of as “a huge melange, an ecumenical potpourri, a huddle of the ends of the earth and the first and last of civilizations.”
It was not at Shepheard’s Hotel, where he had stayed before, but at the Y.M.C.A. that he took up his quarters. Met at the railway station by Dr. Zwemer, he was soon introduced to the very heart of things in the missionary community. He found himself unexpectedly in touch with China as well, for a missionary from Hongkong had discovered a Chinese student in El Azhar university, of whom he spoke to Borden on the day of his arrival. The lonely student, it appeared, was from the very province in which William was hoping to labor (Kansu), and was so cut off from his own country that he did not even know of the fall of the Manchu dynasty or the establishment of the new republic. Borden was eager to meet him, and almost the first entry in his journal was:
January 7, 1913
Went to El Azhar with Mr. Gairdner. Met the only Chinese student there―the first Chinese Moslem I have ever seen, so far as I know.
What a world of interest that El Azhar proved to be, with its white-turbaned students, nine or ten thousand of them, from many lands, including Russia, Persia, North and Central Africa, Abyssinia, India, Arabia, and a couple of hundred professors (Sheikhs) every one of whom had spent at least twelve years studying in the university itself! Old as it was, dating from the tenth century, and entrenched in Moslem bigotry and pride, it was not unaffected by the Christian influences at work around it. Only a few months before Borden’s coming an article had appeared in a religious paper in which one of its professors had written:
Do not say that it is impossible to convert an Azhar Sheikh and bring him to Christ, for with God all things are possible, Was I not a fanatical sheikh in El Azhar, and was I not by God’s grace converted? Today I pray that my fellow-sheikhs may be won even as I was.
Numbers of students were attending the Monday evening meetings for Moslems that winter, at which Michael Man-sour was speaking in great power. “Mighty in the Scriptures and in the Koran as well,” he was attracting great crowds. A foreign missionary was always in the chair, to keep order, and Borden was soon in his element distributing Arabic Scriptures and tracts.
From the Y.M.C.A. headquarters it was no great distance to the American Mission where Dr. Zwemer lived, and where these Monday evening meetings were held, or to the compound of the Church Missionary Society at which a good deal of Borden’s time was spent. For it was there that the students of the new Study Center took their courses in Arabic with the Rev. W. H. T. Gairdner, and in Islam and practical work with other missionaries. Eight or ten were taking the complete course and were attending Dr. Zwemer’s lectures at the Y.M.C.A. and in the theological seminary. It was a keen, live circle, and one to which Borden was soon contributing a good deal. Mr. Gairdner found him “brim full of energy and hope, bringing a new element into our midst.” And Dr. Zwemer wrote:
I never saw a man come to Egypt with eyes more open to see the kingdom of God. Other men come to see the dead Pharaohs, to study history or join the great company of tourists all over the land, never once lifting their eyes to see the fields “white unto harvest.” Borden had not been in Cairo two weeks before he organized the students of the theological seminary to attempt a house-to-house canvass with Christian literature for the whole city with its eight hundred thousand people.
Here was a man with the frame of an athlete, the mind of a scholar, the grasp of a theologian as regards God’s truth, and the heart of a little child, full of faith and love; a man who was so tender in the relations of home life that our children used to nestle upon his knee as if they had known him for years―and he a comparative stranger....
Knowing that he had to learn Chinese, he came to Cairo to perfect himself in Arabic. Some people shrink from the foreign field, questioning, “Could I learn the language?” Here was a man who deliberately set before himself the task of learning not one but two of the most difficult languages in the world, before entering upon his life work of declaring the unsearchable riches of Christ to Chinese Mohammedans....
At Yale, at Princeton, in Cairo we see him digging deep, thinking deep and studying hard.... He did not import doubts to the Orient, he imported his great convictions of the eternal truth of God.... When he lived in Cairo he was a friend to the Coptic Christians and the Armenian Christians. He was a brother to the American missionaries and to the British missionaries. He attended the Scotch church and the American church, and at the last all sorts and conditions of Christians met together to do him honor.
Borden’s Cairo letters are interesting in the light of these recollections, brief though they had to be on account of his studies. His eagerness to acquire Arabic may be judged from the fact that two weeks after his arrival in Cairo he was making arrangements to board in a Syrian family, so that he might hear it spoken as much as possible. The plan about which he wrote to his mother did not materialize until a month later.
January 15, 1913
Saturday we had a very interesting session at the Study Center, and in the afternoon I went out with Mr. Gairdner to visit old Cairo and the C.M.S. hospital. As this is well on the outskirts of the city we got a good ride on our wheels. Later we called on a Syrian family in which Mr. Gairdner thought I might be received as a paying guest. They had a surprisingly nice place, and as it was an unexpected visit the cleanliness and order could not have been put on for our benefit. They insisted upon giving us refreshments, which consisted of some kind of liquid in little liqueur glasses, quite harmless, followed by a teaspoonful of grated cocoanut put into our mouths by our hostess!
Sunday, I started my first work for Moslems by distributing khutbas, little sermons in Koranic style gotten out by the Nile Press. It required some courage to take the first plunge, with my two words of the spoken language, “Do you read Arabic?” and begin offering these booklets on the streets. But I soon found that it went very well, and I have given out about fifty already. Only one or two have declined to take them.
Monday night I went to my first service in Arabic. It was at the American Mission headquarters and most interesting. A few weeks ago, it seems, a rumor got abroad that Mudbuli, a Moslem saint, had come out of his tomb and had taken refuge in the Greek church near by―a pretty good exchange, considering the dilapidated state of the tomb. Of course, the more educated scoffed at the idea, but multitudes believed it, with the result that there was quite a riot at the time. Soon after, in a newly published Moslem book attacking Christianity, the author said that the resurrection of Christ was just like this Mudbuli affair, the story of a lot of silly women. He called attention to this as a great joke! But there is a Moslem convert here, Michael Man-sour, a former El Azhar student, who went to the place where the book was printed and got out five hundred circulars saying he would answer the above statement, debating it with anyone who would come. This was the gathering Dr. Zwemer and I attended. He was half expecting a riot, as the place was packed with Moslems. The meeting opened and closed with prayer, however, and Mansour spoke for nearly an hour, holding their attention so that there was no disturbance and only one or two went out. It was a great triumph, and though I could only understand an occasional word, I was very glad to be there.
This afternoon I had a fine time, going off into the native bazaar with Dr. Zwemer to a book shop. It was near the Azhar, and we had a fine chance to get rid of all the khutbas we had, to students and others, and one of them bought a Gospel. Among the books we purchased were some Korans, and when these were put in the bottom of the carriage there were strong objections immediately and they had to be put up on the seat beside the driver. The outing was great fun, for we not only did this work but had a great time together. This bookshop man, by the way, is an enquirer who has been already a couple of times to see Dr. Zwemer. Things are on the jump here, especially when you are with Dr. Zwemer.
He had not time to write about the fascination of the street life in Cairo, with all its movement and color. “Old Cairo is a bazaar,” as Dr. Babcock put it, “its narrow lanes overhung with cornice that almost touch; with awnings of rugs, balconies, grated windows through which secluded eyes peep; booths, like mere vestibules, with no windows or doors, their owners sitting, Turk-fashion, smoking, haggling, finally demanding your ‘last price,’ and following you often far along the way; with camels, donkeys, dogs, water-sellers with their clanging brass cups, vendors of everything with cries to match, whips cracking like torpedoes; with Nubians, Abyssinians, Greeks, Copts, Arabs, veiled women in black silk balloons and high-heeled slippers, fellahin women with no veils but with tattooed skin and with babies on their backs, rug men and scarab-sellers, jewelers and brass-workers dragging you into their dens, beggars, cripples, children crying ‘Baksheesh.’ Oh, the streets of Cairo! The Mouski Bazaar no one who has seen can ever forget.”
Every phase of missionary work in this cosmopolitan city interested Borden, and his sympathy and eagerness to learn were winning many friends. He was finding ways, too, in which he could wisely give financial help. At the Y.M.C.A. he was in touch with young men of various nationalities, whom he joined in sports as well as meetings. “He was a splendid young man, so healthy, mentally, morally and spiritually,” wrote a Syrian friend with whom he was reading French. And the Christian Endeavor Meeting was long remembered at which he spoke on the topic, “Be a Christian: Why not?”
He laid himself out to encourage the Egyptian Student Movement. It was a gift of his that made possible the obtaining of much better quarters, including a room set apart for Bible study. Here the students of different institutions could meet in groups, one school having one night, and another school another.
“It is for this Bible room that they are asking for a picture of Mr. Borden,” one of their missionary friends wrote a little later. “They say that he was such a help to them, and his blessing is still with them in their work.”
He was making time also for what in earlier days he used to call his “long-distance work” ―letters to people with whom he had spiritual contacts. To a Mr. H., for example, he wrote in March:
I can sympathize with you in the matter of controlling your thoughts, for that is a thing we all have to fight for. You are right in saying we may commit great sins in our minds, though we do not do so outwardly. This is the view of sin which Christ gives us in the Sermon on the Mount, Matt. 5 and 6. However, I believe that in this as in all other things we can gain the victory by faith, through His aid, who was “tempted in all points like as we are, yet without sin.”...
The principle on which we want to work is to crowd out the bad with the good. If we merely seek to put away evil without replacing it with active good, we may find that worse things come in. I have been helped by the suggestion that when we are tempted to harbor evil thoughts we should at once think of Christ, or repeat some verse of Scripture—in this way spoiling the picture, so to speak, by letting in a flood of light. Our object must be to bring “every thought into subjection to the obedience of Christ.” 2 Cor. 10.5.
Chief among his interests at this time was the distribution of the booklets in Koranic style to which allusion has been made already. The idea had come to Borden early in his stay in Cairo. Writing about it to friends in New York, Dr. Zwemer said: “How glad I am to hear of your good prayer meetings at the home of Mrs. Borden. Her son is a benediction to the work here, not only at the Y.M.C.A. but in both the missions. He is a spiritual power and up-to-date in his methods. At his suggestion we are starting the distribution of khutbas all over Cairo, the students of the theological seminary working with us.”
It was a movement with prayer power behind it, and before long it was taken up by others in the missionary community, so that within six months of its beginning Mr. A. T. Upson, superintendent of the Nile Mission Press could say: “There never has been a time in the history of mission work at this center when there were so many inquirers.”
For the tract distribution led to many talks and much personal work. And who shall say how much further the results were carried, remembering that Cairo is the intellectual center of the Mohammedan world?
All unconscious of the forces his earnest purpose would set in motion, Borden was giving every hour he could spare to his own share in this work. The khutbas were brief pointed discourses, written by Mr. Upson and a converted El Azhar man, beginning with some passage from the Koran and leading up to clear teaching from the Bible. Borden appreciated their value. His idea was that there should be a shop-to-shop and, if possible, house-to-house distribution of tracts. In his direct way he went to the Seminary students and put it before them.
“I will pay for the khutbas, if you fellows will help carry them.”
And help they did right heartily, seeking to reach out with the gospel all through that great city of Cairo. To his mother Borden wrote:
February 5, 1913
Yesterday, we had a report of our khutba distribution found that all had gone off without excitement, save in the of Dr. Zwemer and the students who had accompanied him to a fanatical part of the city. With them, too, all went well for a time, till they met an old man who wanted to know by whom the tracts had been written, and who got quite excited when he learned that it was a former El Azhar student who had become a Christian. Dr. Zwemer, seeing that there was going to be trouble, tried to get the students away and to disperse the crowd by going into a shop. But the crowd waited outside, and there was no way of escape. Finally, the old man continuing his attack, they were all marched off to the police station.
The officer looked at the khutbas and listened to the charge, “Why,” he said, “this is nothing but Christianity! You can read about this any day.” And he let them go.
The result was that the wind was quite taken out of the old man’s sails, and they were able to distribute a lot of khutbas right in the police headquarters, which would have been inaccessible to them otherwise. They invited the people to come to the Monday night meeting for Moslems, and the man who made the trouble was there all right last Monday night. Sorry I missed the excitement! But I have another section of the city which is less liable to afford interest of this kind.
February 12, 1913
Dr. Zwemer has just started a new thing―putting Christian notices into the daily papers, inviting inquiry by letter or in person. He has already received several answers.
My Arabic is going rather slowly just at present. I seem to have struck a snag. It certainly is difficult! However, I hope to overcome by the help of God and with due perseverance.
... Dr. Zwemer preached a fine sermon at the American Mission, Sunday night. Afterward we met an American girt, a graduate of Holyoke, whom we had both known in Student Volunteer days. She had just arrived with a party. It was nice to see someone like that.
February 17, 1913
I have bought a “tarboush,” as they call the red fez here, to wear when we go to investigate Islam in some form or other, that I may not be so liable to be the one investigated. It is really remarkable how effective such a slight change proves as a disguise. A great many of the natives wear European dress, you see, save for just this hat. So when we put it on they do not know whether we are “Christians” or not, and can be quite sure that we are not tourists. All of which is valuable.
I bought mine as we were going to a zikr the other night with Mr. Swan of the Egypt General Mission, but it rained so that we called it off... I have not yet explained what a zikr is: briefly, a repetition of the Moslem creed by Dervishes, until they are exhausted. Tomorrow is the Prophet’s birthday, so we expect to see plenty of them, as they go on all night.
We are still distributing khutbas, and it is going all right. Dr. Zwemer seems to think that as they are read more and more by Moslems all over the city there may be some kind of an outburst that would hinder our distributing them freely. We shall soon have the Sermon on the Mount, however, ready for distribution in the same form, and that no one can take exception to.
March 1, 1913
Thursday night we had an interesting trip with Mr. Swan into the back streets of Cairo. The zikr we were going to see had been changed, we found, to another night, but just before reaching the place we came into a cemetery and heard the chanting of another zikr coming from a little old house off to one side. The starlit night, the graves and their surroundings, all made a wonderful setting for the weird intonation We could hear so distinctly, even at a distance.
Mr. Swan talked with the men at the place we went to, telling them of Him who is the Way. The same Arabic word is used in the Bible for “way” as these Dervishes apply to themselves, in the sense of sect or order. It was really quite remarkable how they listened and seemed to take it all in. At one place, while I was waiting for the others, I was asked by a woman to read an Arabic letter for her. I was wearing the fez, of course. And later in the evening when we met a drunken Moslem who was rather talkative, he addressed me as “Mahmoud Effendi” ―Mahmoud being a Moslem name!
Not only the Egyptian women took him for a native. An American gentleman and his family who visited Cairo about this time had a similar experience. They put up at Shepheard’s, and in the evening went out to see if they could find any preaching going on.
“Only a few steps from the hotel,” wrote Mr. J. S. Kimber, “we found one of the mission halls. Near the door we saw a man who, though he was wearing a fez, we thought might understand English. While I was asking him one or two questions, my eldest son came up and said: “‘I think I must have met you at Princeton. Are you not Mr. Borden?’
“To my surprise the stranger said he was. He then gave us all the information we needed, and volunteered to guide us amid the tremendous scenes of the celebration of Ma-hornet’s birthday.
“Sometime later, we had been to hear Dr. Zwemer preach and had returned to the hotel, when I saw our friend in the lobby talking with a lady from the States, a young graduate from Mount Holyoke. I asked my son whether it would not be worthwhile for him to wait until the conversation was finished, and then to invite Mr. Borden to take a late dinner with us. After remonstrating a little about not being suitably dressed, or something of that sort, he consented. The dinner was pretty well under way when he joined us at table. He took his seat smilingly, and at once bowed his head in a reverent and silent ‘blessing.’ It was a beautiful sight, and one, as we remarked, not often seen at Shepheard’s.”
By this time Borden was living in the family to whom he had paid a surprise visit with Mr. Gairdner. He had moved from the Y.M.C.A. to this Syrian home in the Shubra quarter, glad to be entirely among Arabic-speaking people. Of the kindness of the Hassoons and the comfort of his surroundings he wrote to his mother:
March 1, 1913
While we do use a good deal of English, I hear Arabic spoken all around me, and am given lessons by various members of the family, at meals and any other time I wish. The flat is on the third floor of a house near the station, right by the tracks, but I do not mind that. I have a room facing north looking over other, lower houses, so that I get quite a view. My room is rather small for what I have in it, but as I have the use of the dining room and library as well, for study and writing, it does not much matter.
The family consist of Mr. and Mrs. Hassoon, his sister, who goes by the name of Sitt (Miss) Paulina, and a niece, Sitt Negla. They are all very nice and most solicitous in trying to stuff me at every meal, claiming that I do not like the food unless I eat a great deal! It is really very good, and if I do not eat more it is simply because I have had enough. I have forgotten to mention the two little kiddies, Hilda and Vera. Vera, the younger, has great big brown eyes, and is really very cute...
You ask if I am getting proper food, and I can honestly say that I am. Some of the dishes are strange, and one or two not much to my liking, but in the main they are excellent. Some things which at home are luxuries are in common use here, artichokes for instance, which we often have, cooked in the most delicious manner. Then we have a good deal of rice, which you know I like.
It was a time of a good deal of excitement in the city, on account of the Prophet’s birthday and subsequent festivities. The Dervish dances were in full swing, attracting great crowds day and night. For Cairo, as Borden was learning, is a center of the secret organization known as the Dervishes, with its thirty-two great mystic orders, “the very warp and woof of the Mohammedan religion.” While giving most of his time to the language, which he wrote was “no afternoon tea party,” Borden was making a study of this strange development in the life of the people round him. The day he moved to the Hassoons he had “put in some hard licks at Arabic,” as he wrote in his journal, had called on Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan at Shepheard’s Hotel with Dr. Zwemer, and was writing to his mother at night describing some of their experiences.
February 20, 1913
I mentioned in a recent letter that we were going to see some zikrs at the celebration of the Prophet’s birthday. This we did on Monday night, and it certainly was interesting, though I fear I shall not be able to describe it at all adequately. A large piece of level ground had been taken and tents erected in a great square, an entrance being left at one side. Each of the tents was assigned to a Dervish order, or some department of the Government. The tents themselves were very attractive, made of Oriental tapestries in rich red hues, and lighted with glass chandeliers, each of which had a dozen or more big candles. The effect was very brilliant. The floor in the center of each tent was occupied by the Dervishes, who stood or sat in a circle, or if there were many of them in two long rows facing one another.
They all repeat more or less the same things―the name of Allah, the Moslem Creed, the opening sura of the Koran, or the ninety-nine beautiful names of God―but the accompanying motions differ. Some sit and move their heads, first to one side, then to the other and clown on the chest, swaying their bodies at the same time, back and forth. Others stand, bending from the waist in rhythmic motions. This was what the Merganiyeh Order were doing as they repeated:
“La Maim it Allah,
Muhammed rasûl Allah.”
At first they would bend slowly, then gradually increase the pace till they were all going full speed, the leader keeping time by clapping his hands or coming in with a solo refrain in the marvelous way of intoning these fellows have. One could not watch them without feeling the grip of the thing, although knowing it was nothing but a deliberate attempt to induce a state of ecstasy or auto-hypnosis. The Government has put a stop to many of the worst excesses, so that now these big functions are comparatively tame, and they seldom go to the former extremes.
One man Mr. Swan pointed out to us is known as “the Protestant Dervish.” He preached repentance from sin, very much like a Protestant minister, though, of course, without any mention of Christ as the atonement and the One who delivers from the power of sin. He had quite an audience, which he managed much as an evangelist would at home―getting responses from them and letting them ask questions, first of all telling them good stories to get them in a favorable humor. Dr. Zwemer calls him “The Billy Sunday of Islam”!
The next night, Tuesday, was the climax of the celebrations.... The Dervishes all paraded through the city, chanting and dancing, each Order making a company with its Sheikh riding on horseback. I followed them a long way, and saw them as they came into the grounds at Abbasiyeh. It was really very picturesque.... In the evening there was an immense crowd, chiefly to see the fireworks― “an invention of the evil one” that Mohammed certainly never supposed would come to be connected with his birthday. The crowds hurrying through the streets, the brilliant lights and all the excitement, reminded me very much of the festival of Juggernaut in Madras.
It was not only as a student, however, but as a missionary that Borden went “zikr-hunting” as he called it. His companion was often a young German missionary named Straub, who was with him at the Study Center. The following letter has an interest all its own, describing as it does the last night of Borden’s active service.
“His zeal made me ashamed of myself,” wrote Mr. Straub. “He always had his pockets full of khutbas, and lost no opportunity of distributing them.... He was greatly interested in getting acquainted with the national life and the doings of the Dervishes. For this purpose we went to Mohammedan festivals where zikrs were taking place, each wearing a red fez so as not to attract attention.
“The last time we went together was on Thursday in Passion Week (March 20). It was the anniversary of the saint Abul Ela in Bulak.... What crowds of people were there to be seen―people of all classes and ages, men and women, people who were well and people who were sick! As these occasions partake of the character of national holidays, all sorts of amusements were going on. The illumination was truly fairy-like.
“As our chief interest was in the various zikrs, we were drawn to one tent from which the sound of chanting reached us― ‘Allah, Allah!’ For a long time we stood, side by side, watching the strange motions of the men who were swinging forward and backward in strict rhythm, shouting their ‘Allah, Allah.’ The tempo of these motions grew quicker and quicker; ‘Allah, Allah’ sounded hoarser and hoarser, until finally nothing but heavy breathing could be heard. Several of the Dervishes fell unconscious to the ground. We noticed one man close beside us wrought up to the highest pitch, and saw foam gushing from his mouth. We, too, felt the excitement, and were full of pity for these poor, deluded people, whose way of worship was so unworthy.... About midnight we started, arm in arm, for home, and had scarcely seated ourselves in the trolley when Mr. Borden took his remaining khutbas and handed them to those nearest to him.”
His earnestness of spirit had been not a little deepened by a startling occurrence of which he wrote to his friend, Dr. Inglis Frost, in March:
An event here in Cairo has saddened us all and made me realize afresh the heroism of the doctor in his everyday work. I refer to the sudden death of Dr. M. Pain of the Church Missionary Society, a man beloved by hundreds and filled with the Spirit of Christ. I only met him twice, soon after my arrival, and the next thing I knew he was dead.
I wish I could give you the full medical particulars, as you would be interested. As far as I could ascertain he was attending a patient suffering from spinal meningitis. The patient coughed in his face, and infection followed apparently. This took place on a Sunday, and the following Wednesday, about 5 A.M., he passed to the home above.
His funeral, attended as it was by a great crowd of natives and Europeans, was a most eloquent testimony to his loving faithfulness in serving his Master.
As they were leaving the cemetery Borden said to a companion: “Now we must work all the harder, for the time is short.”
This made him the more appreciate his opportunities for learning the spoken language and coming into touch with the life of the people in the home of his Syrian friends. From a letter written by Mr. Gamil B. Hassoon, we may almost see him with their eyes:
It is beyond power to describe his great zeal and diligence in studying the difficult Arabic language. But though he was so absorbed, so fond, so overwhelmed with his studies, he did not make Arabic his only aim. He looked to what was higher and nobler, and appointed a large portion of his time for reading the sacred Scriptures. His Bibles, and he had many of them, were all visited by his eyes. Many were the remarks on their margins made in his handwriting, and the texts underlined, which showed that he had chosen them and probably put them into memory. His reading the Scriptures was not in the order of a daily duty. He read them because he loved them.
His life and deeds agreed to what he read. He loved everybody; and as a rule when you find one who loves like that you may be sure of his love to God.... In a conversation I had with him I found that he loved the Y.M.C.A. with a wonderful love and when our talk turned on the Arabic branch, his love to this seemed not less than to the other. I knew from him that he wanted to strengthen the Arabic branch by all the power he could, financially, morally and mentally, so that it might attain a level with the greatest European associations, and surpass them if possible. Many times he expressed to me his pleasure in the progress this branch had taken in the short time since it was organized, despite all obstacles.
His love to Orient and Orientals was a profound, true love. He was very pleased with many of our noble habits which he had not experienced before: He was very kindly sociable in our society, and in a few days, not exceeding the number of the fingers of one hand, he became one of us—Orientalist, with the full meaning of the word. He loved to communicate and mix up himself with us and we with him, preferring to change his long-accustomed habits and acquire our ways, so that he might prepare himself with what would agree with the taste of Orientals among whom he hoped to live.... The kindness and sociability God endowed him with were very great.
He denied himself, and had a special motto written on a paper in his pocket: “My Lord, enable me to conquer my will and overcome my desires.” And he had another motto: “Not my will but Thine be done.”...
What impressed me most was his strong faith. He did not think that there was anything impossible to do in the service of the Lord. In the books he and I read, we found that it is nearly impossible to enter into Tibet or Afghanistan, to bring the gospel to the Mohammedans there. But that fact was not to shake his faith. And he went further, believing that it is most possible that the gospel shall in a few years be preached in Mecca, the center of Islam itself. He loved to be where the fight is hottest.... The unoccupied fields of the Moslem world were his target, and all the time he was preparing himself for the evangelization of such fields....
He was very fond of Mohammedans. Once he came home with a very pleased face.
“What is it makes you look so happy?” I asked.
He had met, he said, two Azhar Sheikhs, and stopped them by the way. They spoke to him in Arabic, something he could not understand. But he did all he could, and led them a long distance to Dr. Zwemer’s house. Showing them the house, he said, “Koll yom gomaa” (every Friday). And he spent with them fifteen minutes by the roadside, using the few Arabic words he knew.
I asked him to repeat the Arabic he used, and we had great fun of it! But it was good enough to make those men understand that he wanted to gain them for Christ, and they parted with peace. To my full belief they went to Dr. Zwemer’s on Friday....
William had a winning look and an attractive spirit. He was meek and kind. My love to him is very great, and I remember every movement of his.... Although he was a rich man he denied himself the privileges of rich people, and lived as simply as any missionary could live. He was following the footsteps of Jesus.
Once a friend said to me: “Your guest is a millionaire.”
“I do not know anything about his dollars,” I replied.
When I came in I told Mr. Borden what I heard, but he did not confirm it.
“People often mistake us,” he said, “for the rich Condensed Milk firm that bears the name of Borden.”
This put me into an opinion that he was not so rich, and I kept on treating him as a brother, not as to please a millionaire. I am sure he liked it that way. He was perfectly at home with that poor family of mine, and we lived together with great peace and love.