“Give me the grace to bear my burden so
That men may learn the secret of my power,
And meet each trouble with their face aglow,
And voice their praises in the midnight hour;
For when our helplessness cries unto thee,
Thy power descends in Christ to set us free.”
From of old the scholars and writers of all lands have desired and
sought for literary glory, and have considered it far more precious
than gold or gems. In no country has this been more true than in China.
Some of the greatest of this land have passed through much privation
and suffering to attain this end. It is not of one of these I wish to
write.
“Literary Glory” was the name of a young girl who entered the Bridgman
School twelve years ago. She was a bright, pleasant girl, and had many
friends. She was a good student and during the years of her school life
her teachers came to see there was in her the making of a strong, true
woman. She was engaged to a young man of good character, but neither he
nor his family had any interest in Christianity.
Seven years ago she left her school home for the home of her husband
who lived in the village of Lu T’ai, fifteen miles northeast of Peking.
A year ago the writer visited her in her village and at night shared
the same room. It was a wonderful story she told as she poured out her
heart to her friend. Would you could have heard it. I give it to you as
best I can remember. She said, “When I went to my husband’s home I made
up my mind that I would work and pray with all my might to bring him
and his mother to know and love Jesus. God only knows what I had to
endure. I was so homesick for my school friends, so longed to go to
church and prayer-meeting. There was only one other Christian in the
place and he was away most of the time. The day after I was married my
husband took all my books and cards and put them in the fire. I did not
dare let him see me cry, but in the dead of night I poured it all out
to God and was comforted.”
“In this home I have been but a servant to his grandmother, mother, and
sisters, but my reward has come to me because they all love me, and my
husband and his mother have become Christians. I have had to work very
hard from early morning till late at night. In summer time I have
worked all day, ploughing, spading, hoeing, and cutting the grain. Five
years ago, during the heavy rains, our house fell down and we were too
poor to hire enough men to rebuild, so I helped make the mud bricks and
when they came to building the walls I sent up to them all the mud and
plaster used. With my own hands I plastered the inside walls and
cleaned up the court, but,” said the dear girl as she took my hand, “it
is such a joy now and God has been good to me.”
Much more we said in the hours of the night. How my heart ached as she
told me how she had longed with such a longing for Christian fellowship
and companionship. She talked of her school life, and the comfort she
had as she recalled what she had learned. She was teaching her two
little sisters, hoping they could go up to the Bridgman School.
Little did either of us dream how short the earthly joy was to be, or
how soon the Heavenly reward was to begin. Very early the next morning
she was up helping to get breakfast, and from her mother-in-law and a
neighbour who came in I heard much that filled my heart with joy and
pride. The mother said, “When I heard the girl my son was engaged to
was a Christian and in school I was very angry and wanted to break off
the engagement. I looked with great dread upon her coming to us; but I
want to tell you, she is the best daughter-in-law in the place. In all
these years we have not had a single quarrel and that cannot be said of
any other family. My youngest children love her and mind her better
than they do me. I thought she would want to read all the time and so
had my son burn her books. I thought she would be above farm work, and
all these years she has worked so hard and with never one word of
complaint. One year we lost all our crops and in the winter had to send
to the market town, six miles away, for the famine relief grain. She
had to go early, walk there and back, and carry our portion. She did
not have any warm clothes that winter, but she did not say anything.”
“Yes,” chimed in the neighbour, “I had to go too that winter, and your
Wen Jung (Literary Glory) was so modest and ladylike, never pushing or
crowding, that the official asked who she was and gave her more grain.”
Again the mother-in-law said, “When I saw how she endured the
hardships, always so strong and true, I knew it must be her religion,
for I too have been a daughter-in-law. She is always kind to the old
grandmother, who has a terrible temper. I have known Wen Jung to stay
up all night to make her a pair of shoes. Yes, my daughter-in-law is
the only one of the family who has not felt her stick or been reviled
by her. When I saw how her God helped her I just wanted to know Him.
Now for months Wen Jung has had evening prayers and has taught me to
pray.”
It was so delightful to sit there and hear all these sweet things of
one of our schoolgirls. It was a joy to see her pride in her poor home
where everything was very clean and neat, and as she moved about
getting breakfast I thanked God for this “new woman” in China. With
what loving care she waited on us. How she did want to show her love;
later on, when the neighbouring women came in for a little service she
came and sat with her arms about me. I said to the women, “She is our
girl student and we love her.” “Yes,” said some one, “she is always
talking about her foreign friends. For years we have wanted to see you.
You may be proud of her, she is the best daughter-in-law in the place.”
About noon I left, promising to visit her on my return from the place I
was going to visit and hold a station class.
Alas! the death of a member of our station called me to Peking by the
shortest road, and the next month the Boxer storm burst upon us. After
the fury was spent and we could get news of those distant from us, we
found that nine of the ten who belonged to us in that place had been
cut down. The Boxers came at sunrise one beautiful morning in June and
the mother-in-law was killed at once in her own room. “Literary Glory”
ran out of the house and out into a field, but was overtaken and most
brutally hacked to pieces. Her husband was taken to a temple, tried,
and beheaded. Brave, true-hearted, humble “Literary Glory.” If ever any
one heard the “well done” she did. She gained two souls for the Master
she loved and left a name that will be fragrant for long years in that
village. Faithful in the small things, she filled the cup to
overflowing by giving her life. What is her “new name” up there, think
you? Is it “Heavenly Glory”? My young readers who have given your money
for Bridgman School and helped to educate this dear girl, does the
result of your investment satisfy you? Can you not say with her, “My
reward has come to me, God has been very good to me”?
“We take with solemn thankfulness
Our burden up, nor ask it less;
And count it joy that even we
May suffer, serve or wait for thee.
Thy will be done.”