(Translated from the German.)
SUCH was the name of a boy, the history of whose short life is here related. He was its strong and well-built—at the same swift and courageous, as was seen when he shouted at the tigers as they fled through the woods of Sumatra, holding fast by the main of the unsaddled and unbridled horse on which he sat. A sweet smile was ever on his lips. When he spoke, it was of scenes from nature—he represented different occupations, sketched pictures full of life, and freshness; and if anything was wanted in his narrative, he filled it up with attitude and gesture in a remarkable manner. Everything about Dja-Ogot was interesting and pleasing.
One day as this child was walking along the shore of the above-named island, two men rowed towards him, and in a friendly tone inquired what he was doing there. He must at this time have been at least eight years old. The unsuspicious boy replied that he was waiting for his father. “For your father!” exclaimed the men; “he is feeding the flocks far away. Step into our boat, and we will take you to him.” The boy acted on the invitation; but, alas! instead of being carried to his father, he was taken farther and farther from him, never again to see his people or his fatherland. The ungodly men! They had stolen him! And who can describe his grief when he discovered this; or his anguish as he further feared that he was going to serve his captors for a meal? But the Lord had ordered better for the child. He was taken farther and farther, and sold several times, in each instance for a higher price, till at length, by the missionary Von Asselt, he was ransomed for ninety-six florins. May the Lord reward his beloved servant for this service of love!
The boy was soon very useful to the missionary, for he gave him instruction in the Batta language; and served him with much, faithfulness. His love of truth was remarkable. He accompanied the missionary everywhere on his journeys; took care of his baggage, and prepared his meals. No wonder that the missionary was more and more drawn to the boy, and earnestly desired to find some better opening for the develop, ment of his talents than any which there presented itself.
As I was sitting one day with my family at dinner, the missionary Koster was reading out of “Light and Shade” a letter from Von Asselt, in which he asked whether in the Netherlands any one could be found who would undertake the education of Dja-Ogot. “Well,” said I, “the boy may come to me. I shall not be the poorer, if one more sits at my table. I can also provide him with clothes. The only difficulty would be to raise money for his journey.” Full of surprise and joy, Koster cried out, “Are you really in earnest, Mr. M.?” And when I confirmed my word, the good man rose up, and with his eyes towards heaven, entreated the Lord’s blessing upon the further education of the child. He then left the room, and returning with pen, ink, and paper, communicated my desire to Von Asselt.
A long time necessarily elapsed before the journey could be accomplished. He must go from Lipirok to Padang, and from Padang to Batavia, and thence to Europe. It cost Von Asselt no small trouble to collect the necessary funds, and to find an escort for the boy. But at length every hindrance was removed. In company with Dr. Nepf, he sailed from Padang to Batavia. On this voyage he was so seriously ill as to be very near death. Arrived at the chief town of Dutch India, Mr. Brower took charge of him, and having taken his passage in the Wilhelmina Clara, in ninety-six days they reached the shores of Holland.
It was on the 29th of June, 1860, about five in the evening, when, after having dispatched my pupils to their homes, I was on the point of setting out on my vacation tour, that the newspaper was put into my hand. Having no time to lose, I hastily looked through the shipping-list, and found to my no small joy that the Wilhelmina Clara was in the harbor of Helder. I hastily put my things together, and the same evening went by rail to Amsterdam, where, as it was too late then to seek for the boy, I went to an hotel for the night. I sought my bed directly, with the purpose of rising very early the following morning; to make inquiry for the boy. Waking at the appointed time, I dressed myself hastily; and after praying to the Lord so to direct my steps that I might quickly find the boy, I left my room. Scarcely had I stepped upon the stairs, when my eye fell upon a boy in Oriental costume, whom I saw below, over the banisters. “Dja-Ogot!” cried I, involuntarily. He nodded his head. I mentioned my name. He ran quickly to his room, packed up his little possessions, took leave of the two missionaries, Mulnickel and Rott, and went with me. My heart beat with joy. The boy cried. How gladly would I have spoken one word with him; but the poor child understood as little of my language as I did of his; and I was obliged to be content with putting his hand within mine, and leading him along. With little delay we left Amsterdam, and at eight in the evening were sitting at home at the family table.
The Indian costume was quickly changed for Dutch. It was very difficult for him to wear shoes, so long had he been accustomed to go barefoot. But this did not trouble me. What did distress me was that an expression of sadness, not natural to him, continually overspread his face, and that he often retired to weep in secret. Naturally, I did all I could to make him more cheerful; but in vain. At last, one day his eye fell upon the portrait of the missionary Koster, whom he had known in Sumatra, and taking the picture in his hand he exclaimed with wonder, “Koster!” In a moment his face was cheerful and animated. His secret grief was explained when I found that Si-Kitzil had formerly told him that the people in Holland were cannibals. The sight of this portrait took away all fear from his heart. It was not surprising that I often earnestly looked to God as to what course I should pursue with this dear child. Not to convert him—which was truly beyond mine and all human power—but to clear away all that might hinder him from coming to Jesus. We know that man cannot be too little in his own eyes; but he is often too great to let himself be delivered by the Saviour. My first care, therefore, was to guard against everything which might minister to the boy’s self-importance. I determined that he should regularly go to bed at nine o’clock in the evening, and should never go anywhere unless I accompanied him. I feared, too, the love of the brethren. I foresaw that everywhere he would be overwhelmed, with questions; that he would be the subject of conversation, and would be loaded with dainties. And what other consequence could be, expected, but that the boy should think of himself as the center of attraction, instead of learning that the Lord Jesus is alone the right center. Dja-Ogot remained a child, and never became a man; and to the end he was childlike.
After the lapse of a fortnight, I took him into my school, where he was taught to read and write Dutch. He had a great desire to learn, and was soon able to read tolerably well, and to write very well; he also opened a correspondence. In arithmetic he did not go further than the first four simple rules. Under Mr. Bygeboom, who kindly gave him gratuitous instruction in the harmonium, his musical talent was cultivated in a surprising manner. But how was I to give him the knowledge of “the Holy Scriptures, which alone are able to make wise unto Salvation”? I read to him “Draper’s Bible Stories,” which being translated into Malay, I could not understand, and he could not read. Then I let him read it in the Ioba language—his native tongue—till by degrees he was able to follow the Scripture instruction given in my school. This captivated him. He understood what he read to me, and what I read to him; and scarcely was a sentence ended than that he began in his sprightly way to put it clearly into his own broken Dutch Later on, as he had “Zahn’s Bible Histories let,” he never went into the school without having, read through a certain portion. And so precious was this instruction to him, that at a later period, when he was not able to mount the stairs at my house, he got me to carry him up, in order that he might be present at it.
HIS CONVERSION—LOVE OF PRAYER, ETC. ABOUT three months after his admittance into my house, a circumstance occurred, which the Lord used for his eternal good. Until this time he had been a thorough infidel. Brother Von Asselt had indeed told him that God had made the world; but in his heart the boy believed that all things were self-created. I had indeed spoken to him of the Lord Jesus, of hell and heaven; but he maintained that these did not exist. One Saturday evening, he was sitting in my room playing on his harmonium, which was so placed that anyone playing on it had his back to the table. On this table my mother had laid a little box containing money. The servant maid entering the room, saw it; and thinking that no one could observe her, she took out a few pieces—I know not how many—and concealed them. However, in this she deceived herself. Hardly had she done it, when Dja-Ogot rose, and put her sin before her, threatening to tell me of it. The girl endeavored with kind words to divert him from his purpose, but in vain. Then she got angry, denied the offense, and would have beaten him. Attracted by the noise, my mother came into the room. She ordered the servant to go into the kitchen, and sent the boy to his room to cry to the Lord Jesus, and to go to bed. He obeyed. Not long after, however, he left his bed and hastened in his nightdress into the room where the family were sitting. “How!” said my mother to him, “are you not yet in bed, Dja-Ogot?” “No, ma’am,” he answered, “I wish to tell it to Mr. M.; in the morning I might be dead; and Dja-Ogot saw it, and the Lord Jesus also saw it.” When the remaining inmates of the house came home he pulled the bell. All came in. Dja-Ogot took the missionary boxes and his portmonnaie, and placed them before him on the table; put me on one side of himself, and the maid on the other, and begged every one to be seated, convicted the maid in the presence of all of having taken money both out of the boxes and his purse, and addressed her in such a way that nothing remained for me to do. He then went to bed. All this was seen and heard by human ears and eyes but what was working in the boy’s heart was perceived only by the Lord. “As the maid was before me, so am I before the Lord Jesus,” said he to himself. “She thought that no one saw her, yet I did; and I think that the Lord Jesus does not exist, and that he does not see me; yet he does exist, and he does see me.” From this moment he believed all that was told him about the Lord, and walked in childlike simplicity and joy, according to the word of the Lord.
All true converts are convinced of sin, and learn, sooner or later, to loathe themselves because of it. It was true of Dja-Ogot. “How hateful I was! was I not?” said he one day; “how hateful, that I would not believe that God made the world!” And another time he said, “But how wicked I was in Samatra! I lied, I stole, I swore. Mr. Von Asselt prayed, and I made as though I prayed; but I did not pray, for I had a great dislike to prayer.” Once my mother asked him, “Dja-Ogot, how do you know that the Lord Jesus loves you?” “Because the Lord Jesus died on the cross for my sins,” he replied. “His blood was shed for me, and now he has forgiven me my sins, and I am going to heaven.” “Yes, my child,” said she; “but do you love the Lord Jesus?” “Certainly,” was his answer. “But how do you know this, Dja-Ogot?” “I feel it in my heart.” Could a mother give a better answer, if asked, “How do you know that you love your children?”
If Dja-Ogot had formerly a dislike to prayer, it was now increasingly his sweetest occupation. Oh, how I rejoiced that this intercourse with God was so precious to him! “Behold he prayeth,” it was said of Saul; and surely anyone who confers with God about that which concerns him is converted.
Once, as some one was conversing with Dja-Ogot, he thought—not thoroughly understanding Dutch—that he had been called a slave. The poor boy began to cry so piteously, that the hardest heart must have melted. I took him by the hand, stroked his forehead, and tried to explain to him that he was mistaken. It was of no use. I gave him some marbles, and leaned his head against, my breast. All was in vain. I tried one thing after another, but it was fruitless. Then I went to my room. We knelt together before the Lord, and I prayed; full twenty times naming the one who had so unintentionally pained the boy. We rose. He grasped my hand heartily, and his accustomed cheerfulness returned. One Sunday he received a letter from the missionary, Von Asselt; he read it again and again: it brought sorrowful tidings. A terrible earthquake had taken place in his fatherland; the ground had been deeply rent; houses had been thrown down; and the people had fled to the fields, where they waited, full of fear and amazement, what would next come to pass. The missionary, Von Asselt, had repaired to the Island Chief, at Lipirok, and entreated him to humble himself before God with his people. But the only answer was, “I will consider the matter.” This was the substance of this sorrowful letter. It was evening; the family reading and prayer was over, and we were on the point of taking our supper. Dja-Ogot asked leave to go to bed. I was surprised at his wish. He had been cheerful all the day, and showed no sign of sleepiness. He repeated his request, and I granted it; but I could not understand what induced him to leave his bread and butter untouched. Soon the mystery was explained. For long after he had left the, sitting room was he on his knees, bringing the calamity of his people before the throne of God. On the following day he wrote a letter to the Chief of Lipirok, entreating him not to despise the counsel of the missionary, Von Asselt. Later, he received a letter from Si-Labo, announcing his marriage to a young girl from Lipirok. It was plain that Dja-Ogot was angry. I had not seen him so before, and asked the cause. “I should like to give Si-Labo a blow,” said he. “Then,” I replied, “you must at least make your arm a little longer.” He still continued angry. “Come,” said I, “tell me what makes you so. Must Si-Labo not be married?” “Certainly,” he replied; “but still I am displeased with him.” More he would not say. Upon this I seriously represented to him that he was acting wrongly—still he said not a word. In the evening I heard him long and earnestly in prayer: but however much I wished to know of what he was speaking with the Lord, I could not of course, disturb such converse. Scarcely had he risen in the morning, when he came and told me he was no longer angry with Si-Labo. “I prayed to the Lord last night that he would forgive me my anger, and Si-Labo his sin, and that he would convert his wife.” “But why were you so angry?” I inquired. He answered, “Si-Labo’s wife is not converted; and he ought not to marry an unconverted woman.” I was greatly surprised at this answer. Then I remembered, that once in my school I had spoken of Solomon’s idolatry, and had touched on this subject in passing.
HIS ILLNESS AND EARLY DEATH.
IN the month of May, Dja-Ogot was suddenly taken very seriously ill. The pain in his side was so great as to hinder his breathing. I sent for the doctor immediately. He ordered him the needful remedies, which were so blessed that in a few weeks it seemed as though he were fully restored to health. But shortly afterward he threw up, blood; and as this was repeated, I feared the lungs were attacked—an opinion confirmed by the doctor after a close examination. However, he again rallied. Three months passed thus; but after this, hæmorrhage returned more violently than before. Consumption quickly developed itself, and it seemed as though a few days must close his life. One Sunday evening he suddenly raised himself in his bed, and begged me to hear him repeat some verses of a hymn which he had learned the preceding week. I was astonished, for it was unaccountable to me and all the household how the boy was able to learn by heart. Naturally, I complied with his request. Then, fetching a deep breath at every word, he began—
“O look with pity from above;
Let me thy mercy taste, my Lord and God;
Now laid aside, how wretched should I be!
How lonely! but that, Lord, thou think’st on me.
To thee I cry, in anguish and in pain,
In every rising need and every care;
My trembling heart would often be afraid,
Did’st thou not tell me, Lord, that thou art near.”
No one present could refrain from tears, nor could anyone speak a word. He laid down Again. From that moment he again rallied. Shortly after New Year’s Day the doctor came one morning, as usual, to visit him; and hardly had he taken his seat by his side, than Dja-Ogot entered into conversation with him.
“Does the doctor love poor sick Dja-Ogot?” asked the boy. “Yes, surely,” was the answer. “Does the doctor also love the Lord Jesus?” inquired the child further. “Oh, yes!” “Dja-Ogot is better today—much better.” “That is true.” “The doctor has not made me better.” “Not made you better, Dja-Ogot?” “No: the doctor is very good; he comes to me every day, and gives me good medicine, and treats me very kindly; but the Lord Jesus makes me better.” “You are quite right, my child.” “Oh, yes, but we must thank the Lord Jesus for it.” “That is true, darling boy.” “Will the doctor then do it?” “No; Dja-Ogot must do it himself” “Oh, no. The Lord Jesus understands me well, but the doctor would not understand me, though I understand the doctor.” Some days later, he thanked the Lord, with the doctor, in his own hearty and childlike way.
All who knew this dear boy can witness how loveable he was. The Lord Jesus loved him. Of this the child had a lively consciousness, and therefore his heart overflowed with love. With much boldness, he one day related in the school how the Lord Jesus had forgiven him his sins, and that therefore he was going to heaven; and that he no longer feared to die. Another day, he had a conversation with one of the pupils, in the course of which he put the question, whether she also would go to heaven. When she replied that she was not certain about it, he came running to me, and said, “Is it not terrible, Mr. M.? — does not know if she will go to heaven.” She colored when she was asked about it.
On January 18, Dja-Ogot came for the last time into the school. Violent hemorrhage came on. It was now very plain to him that God was taking down his earthly tabernacle, and would give him a new one. “Ah,” said he to me one morning, “how sad I was last night. Oh, how I cried.” “And why?” I asked. “I thought,” he answered, “that Dja-Ogot loved the Lord Jesus, and would soon go to be with him in heaven; but I thought also of my father and my mother and my sister, who do not know the Lord Jesus, and do not believe in Him, and so cannot go to heaven. I always hoped that someday I should go to Sumatra, and take the Gospel to them; but Dja-Ogot must stay here—and it was for this I cried. However, I prayed to the Lord Jesus that he would send a missionary into Ioba-land; and so I am sorrowful no longer.” “That is right, my child,” I said.
These words of the boy made a deep impression on me. How gladly would I have gone myself to the land of Ioba, had I not ties which kept me here. But the Lord heard the boy’s request, and surely will in his own time fulfill it. If only I knew the names of his parents, thought I, I could make inquires about them. But though I asked him many times, he always told me it was not considered respectful for children to mention the names of their parents. In the meantime, Von Asselt wrote me word that be purposed leaving Lipirok, and traveling in the valley of Silindung. Dja-Ogot was not altogether happy at this news, fearing that the inhabitants would harm Von Asselt, as this district was not under the Dutch government. However, his fear was removed when I reminded him that it was enough if the Lord Jesus stood by the side of His servant, and that He had no need of soldiers to protect Von Asselt with. Surely in this communication of Von Asselt may be seen the Lord’s purpose to answer the prayer of Dja-Ogot. The valley of Silindung separates the land of Ioba from that of Lipirok.
A few days before his death, he told me he thought that when he got to heaven he should know, only one person there. I inquired, “Whom?” and he answered, “Henry’s father,” meaning my brother, who had died. My brother was the only Christian whose last moments he had witnessed.
In the night between February 28 and March 1, he appeared to me to be pretty well, and unusually bright in intellect. About two o’clock in the night he sat upright and inquired what Von Asselt had formerly written to me about his early history. I told him the substance of what the reecho already knows; to which he replied, “It is just so.” Then I said to him, “Dja-Ogot, perhaps you will soon be in heaven. Must I write anything for you to Sumatra?” “Oh, no,” said he; “all is done. I have thanked the Lord very much for all that he has done for me.” Then he opened to me the last secrets of his heart. “Spoultak” was his birthplace; “Amanubuanka” his father; “Naibuanka” his mother; and “Sisindir” his sister. I await the answer to the prayers which he then poured forth, and can never forget the anguish with which he uttered, “My father, my mother, my sister—they do not know the Lord Jesus!”
The 1st of March passed without anything especial to mark it. I was not present at, the evening meal, and my mother prayed, and asked with more than ordinary fervor that the Lord would watch over the dear boy. About nine o’clock I returned. Hardly had I sat down on his bed, and asked him how he felt, when hæmorrhage came on. I supported him with my left arm. He took my right hand—pressed it warmly; and while the blood poured from his mouth like, water from the open spout of a pump, he said, looking at me, “I—am—dying.” I said, “That is nothing, Dja-Ogot. The Lord Jesus loves you very much, and He is with you.” Then he put his left hand on his heart, and his right on the artery at the right side of his throat—raised his eyes to heaven, bowed his head (while I still held him in my arms), and breathed his last.
Thus lived and died the first-fruits of Battalandus, who before the throne of the Lamb will shout triumphant, “He has redeemed us to God with his blood.” Dja-Ogot bore his cross: it was a heavy one. The boy was not fourteen years old when the Good Shepherd found him, and laid him on His shoulders rejoicing. What is ripe for heaven is no longer fit for earth. Dja-Ogot from the East, and puts many children of the West to shame, who still keep at a distance from Jesus. The day may be at land when Indians, as messengers, will come to proclaim the Gospel to fallen Christendom. “Many that are first shall be last.” The Lord as an experienced archer, will not miss his aim. Of this I am confident:
Amen. A. MEYER
Rotterdam, March, 1862.