Worth a Life-Time in China
ABOUT a year ago, one Mrs. Ting, an old lady of eighty-one years, came to our little preaching hall near the South Gate, to see the foreigners and hear what they preach.
The Buddhist rosary twisted round her wrist told the tale of a soul groping in the dark, and its well-worn appearance showed that she was by no means careless about her future state. Being somewhat deaf, she pressed close up to the speaker and listened attentively to the end without nicking much comment.
About two days later she was there again, but this time without the string of beads which had been her companion for many years. On being asked how it was, she answered to the effect that being told they were of no use she had of course laid them aside, and was using what she could remember of the prayer she had been taught to the true God in heaven.
Presently the dear old lady sighed, and said, “It’s all very good and beautiful, but it's too late for me! I am old and can't expect to live long, I could never accumulate sufficient merit. Had you come a few years earlier to tell me, this happiness might have been mine, but it's late now, too late!"
It was a little while before she could take in that God's salvation is present and free.
She continued to attend the services regularly, drinking in the truth, her poor wrinkled face lighting up as the gospel was unfolded to her mind, prepared by the Holy Spirit to receive it. The fact that Jesus had returned to heaven to prepare a place for her and was soon coming to take her to it, was very precious indeed to her, and seemed always to be in her thoughts.
The failing memory could not retain very much at a time, but certain things seemed to rivet themselves upon her mind. One day the text, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee," was repeated over to her a few times, and when asked if she remembered it, she answered in her own simple style, “He’ll never leave me, and He won't cast me off."
After a time our aged friend came to the conclusion that her rosary would be of no more use to anyone else than to herself; so, quite of her own accord, she burned it. Her love and gratitude to those who brought to her the word of life was very touching, and made one feel it was worth a life-time in China to see this soul saved. From her granddaughter-in-law, with whom she lived, Mrs. Ting met with nothing but unkindness and persecution.
She did not wish to live; her one cry was, “Lord Jesus, come quickly." Twice on recovering from sickness she was disappointed not to go, and once dreaming she was in a very beautiful place, she thought it must be heaven; but one Sunday morning, the desire of her heart was realized, she went in to see the King to “go no more out."
Who of us can imagine what heaven must be to her? and what joy to the Lord Jesus too, to greet one more of His " other sheep"! She truly turned to God from idols, and waited for His Son from heaven. Poor and despised in the eyes of the world, but possessing the true riches of a simple faith in God and His Word; from the very first she was never heard to express a doubt as to the truth of the gospel. How mighty in working is the Spirit of God, who can in so short a time entirely change the heart and thoughts of one who had lived eighty-one years in the darkness of heathenism and superstition.
We were sorry not to be with her at the end; but her friends had closed the door against us, and we did not know she was so ill. A neighbor who was with her to the last told us that the last day she seemed unconscious of what was going on around her. She said she was in a chapel so large! and so clean, and even the little children there could all tell about Jesus.
When we meet her by and by she may tell us then of His faithfulness.—China's Millions.
India
the Story of Rajji
Rajji, the sick girl of whom I am now writing, was one of those people whom one learns to love at first sight. She struck me at the very first, by the contrast between her age and the grown-up patient expression that she wore, and still more so by a look in her eyes, which seemed to speak of a brightness within the soul, and which I found difficult to account for at the time. The reason I discovered later on, and it is in the hope that Rajji's history will encourage some, who, after long and patient sowing, grow faint sometimes and weary in the thought that it has been in vain, that I have been led to write out this story.
Rajji is a Hindu girl and was about sixteen when I saw her; she had been brought into Tarn Taran from some distant village for treatment. Her case was unfortunately a hopeless one from the very first, as she was then in the last stage of consumption, but her parents refused to believe it.
It was a rare privilege and pleasure to be allowed to visit the sick girl every day, as she was always eager to listen to reading from the Bible and the singing of hymns, some of which she would join in herself. She grasped spiritual truths in a way that made me think they were not new to her, and so it proved to be. As a child she had been much with some Christians. She had thus heard enough of the living truths to cherish them in her childish soul for many a long year. At length they brought forth fruit unto life everlasting. At the age of thirteen she was married, and lived in her father-in-law's house for three years; all that time she never heard of Christianity, nor saw a Christian. It is all the more surprising, therefore, that she should recall to mind so much of what she had learnt in her childhood-all unconsciously learnt too.
Her parents, wishing to humor her, encouraged my visits, for they seemed to give her more pleasure than anything else. "She shall be your sister, if you will only cure her," they used to say, "and you may take her away to live with you, but you must cure her."
Rajji said the same, hut with greater sincerity, as she really hoped her parents would allow her to be baptized when she recovered, In answer to something she said to me, about being baptized and coming to live with us as a Christian, I replied, "You are my sister now, Rajji, but Jesus loves you more than we do, and wants to call you to a happier home than you can ever have here."
She understood then that she was not to get well, but her calm, child-like spirit seemed to live quite above any doubts or fears.
The weather became very much colder, and Rajji grew steadily worse, and the end drew very near.
Just then I had to leave home for a few days, but went to say good-bye to Rajji before leaving. She asked me pointedly if it was likely that we should meet again, and was reminded of the happy re-union in heaven to which Christ's people look forward with sure and certain hope.
On my return I found Rajji alive, very weak, but conscious. The night before they had supposed she was dying, and, in accordance with their cruel custom, they had lain her down on the bare ground, with a chirag (little lamp) in each hand to guide the departing soul. But she recovered sufficiently to be taken up and put back on her bed.
" Don't let them put me on the ground to die," she entreated, and, when we begged her parents to grant this last request of hers, they assented, but were too weak-minded to keep their word, as we found afterwards, for they were afraid Rajji's father-in-law would accuse them of having let her die a Christian! When we went to see her for the last time that morning, we took some flowers for Rajji. She thanked us with a happy smile, and, after a little while, she added, “There will be more beautiful things where I am going, and the Lord Jesus Christ will be there." She passed away peacefully that night, conscious almost to the last.— The Punjab Mission News.