قراءة كتاب The Fulfilment of a Dream of Pastor Hsi's The Story of the Work in Hwochow

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The Fulfilment of a Dream of Pastor Hsi's
The Story of the Work in Hwochow

The Fulfilment of a Dream of Pastor Hsi's The Story of the Work in Hwochow

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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align="left">The Treasure House, where the Reader is shown the Lapidary at Work

247
CHAPTER XXV Conclusion, being a Review of the Present Situation 257
APPENDIX 263

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Mrs. Hsi Frontispiece
  FACING
PAGE
A Woman Opium Smoker 82
Pastor Wang 136
Women's Bible School 160
"Puppy" and her Mother 218
The Teaching Staff 228
Some Kindergarten Scholars 236
Ling Ai, her Children, and her Mother, Mrs. Liang 252


PROLOGUE

THE spirit of the Confucian scholar Hsi met with its Master Christ, and overwhelmed by the vision yielded all to His control. Constrained by His love the souls of men were sought and won; led by His Spirit, churches were established in the faith; sharing His sufferings, their failures became his burden.

In the darkest days the Hwochow Church has known, when many forsook their faith, he was strengthened by a dream, in which he saw a tree cut down to the ground, only to sprout again, and throw out branches stronger than before.

In his dream, Pastor Hsi knew this tree to be the Hwochow Church. He knew that though it were brought low, it would revive, and by faith obtained the promise, the fulfilment of which is recorded in these pages.

When Thou wouldst pour the Living Stream
Then I would be the earthen cup,
Filled to the brim and sparkling clear.
The Fountain Thou and Living Spring
Flow Thou through me, the vessel weak,
That thirsty souls may taste Thy grace.

When Thou wouldst warn the people, Lord,
Then I would be the golden bell
Swung high athwart the lofty tower
Morning and evening sounding loud;
That young and old may wake from sleep,
Yea, e'en the deaf hear that strong sound.

When Thou wouldst light the darkness, Lord,
Then I would be the silver lamp
Whose oil supply can never fail.
Placed high, to shed the beams afar,
That darkness may be turned to light,
And men and women see Thy face.

When Thou wouldst slay the wolves, O Lord!
Then I would be the keen-edged sword;
Clean, free from rust, sharpened and sure,
The handle grasped, my God, by Thee.
To kill the cruel, ravening foe,
And save the sheep for whom Christ died.
Translated from Pastor Hsi
by F. L. F.


MRS. HSI'S GIFT

"First love is the abandonment of all for the love which has abandoned all."—Dr. G. Campbell Morgan.

"... such men
Carry the fire, all things grow warm to them.
Their drugget's worth my purple, they beat me."
R. Browning.

CHAPTER I

MRS. HSI'S GIFT

Being an Account of the Opening of the Station of Hwochow

MRS. HSI was in great mental distress. The blow she feared had fallen, and her husband was a prey to the bewitching power of the "foreign devils." How cleverly the trap had been laid. Firstly, the offer of a monetary prize for a classical essay—which he had won; secondly, the insistence of the foreigner on a personal interview with the writer, on the occasion of which, certain as her husband had been that he had tasted neither food nor drink under his roof, some means had certainly been found to introduce into his system some of that subtle foreign drug which, as every one knew, must eventually compel the victim to embrace Christianity and follow the "foreign devil" to the world's end. Thirdly, he had been invited to become the teacher of this dreaded man (Rev. David Hill), and she had foolishly yielded her consent. She had taken every precaution and had, on three occasions, sent for him on plea of her own illness during the time he was an inmate in the foreigner's household. His clothing had been carefully searched for traces of the magical compound, but in vain; nothing had come to light, and now here was her husband, one of the leading Confucianists of the district, declaring that, of his own free will and action, he had determined to follow—not the foreign devils—but this Jesus, around Whom all their preaching centred. He attributed this change of mind, evidently quite irrationally, to the reading of a book printed under the strange title of Happy Sound,—but perhaps even the sacred Chinese character might become a snare in their hands! Nothing but the influence of some powerful magic could have worked so complete a transformation. Even his intense craving for opium was

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