Chapter 8

His father intended that George should become a minister, but the lad in his early days showed no signs of a desire to set apart his life to good works. He had the misfortune to lose his mother when he was fourteen years old, and though he was confirmed in 1820 no deep impression had been made by God's grace in his heart.

When he was sixteen he went to Brunswick, and putting up at an hotel lived expensively, and had to part with his best clothes to pay the bill. Later on, for leaving an hotel without paying, he was put in prison, and had to stay there till the money was sent for his release.

He had, indeed, grown so hardened that he could tell lies without blushing. He pretended to lose some money which had been sent to him, and his friends gave him more to replace it. He got into debt, and pawned his clothes in order to procure the means to go to taverns and places of amusement.

But the hand of God was upon him, and he did not do these things without suffering in his mind. About this time too he began to study the Bible earnestly.

At the age of twenty the great change came. He attended a prayer meeting, and there his eyes became opened, and he saw there was no hope for him but in Christ. He read the Bible anew, and from that time commenced leading a _new life_.

When he was about twenty-four years old Müller came over to England, and settled at Teignmouth as pastor of a small church. He refused to have any regular salary or to receive pew rents, taking only such offerings as his congregation wished to give him. Sometimes he had no money left at all; at others he had only just enough food for one meal, and knew not where the means were coming from for the next. Yet he trusted entirely in God, and was never left in want.

After this he went to Bristol, and seeing many poor children uncared for laid the matter before God; and, believing it to be His will that he should try to provide some place of rest for these little ones, he took a house large enough to contain thirty girls.

Rather a remarkable thing happened in connection with the opening of the Home. The money had been supplied, and preparations had been made to receive the children, but none sought admission!

Müller cast about in his mind as to why this should be so, and he discovered that whilst he had asked God for money to open the Home and for helpers, he had forgotten to pray that the children might be sent; and to this he attributed such a strange occurrence.

Still, the omission was soon rectified, and the Home ere long teemed with children.

This was in 1834. From such a small beginning the great Orphan Homes on Ashley Down sprang. Every need connected with the progress of the work was made the subject of prayer by George Müller and his earnest band of workers.

Again and again he has not known where to turn for the next meal for his orphans; but, as if by a miracle, supplies have been _always_ forthcoming. Though often in great straits Mr. Müller has never asked for help except of God, and _never_ has that help been denied.

The following extract from his journal will show the trials to which Mr. Müller has been subjected: "Never were we so reduced in funds as to-day. There was not a single halfpenny in hand between the matrons of the three orphan houses. There was a good dinner, and by managing to help one another by bread, etc., there was a prospect of getting over the day also; but for none of the houses had we the prospect of being able to take in bread. When I left the brethren and sisters at one o'clock after prayer I told them that we must wait for help, and see how the Lord would deliver us this time." About twenty yards from his home he met a person interested in the Homes who gave him £20. This is but a sample of many occasions upon which, having waited upon God in simple faith, help has arrived at the very hour it has been needed.

Some paragraphs in Müller's yearly reports read almost like a fairy story, only they are far more beautiful, being a record of _facts_. Thus in May, 1892, when the financial year of the institution began, they had in hand for their School, Bible, Missionary and Tract funds only £17 8s. 5-1/2 d.

In June of that year a packet was found at Hereford Railway Station containing eleven sovereigns, addressed to Mr. Müller, with nothing but these words inside, "From a Cheerful Giver, Bristol, for Jesus' Sake". In the same month came £100, "from two servants of the Lord Jesus, who, constrained by the love of Christ, seek to lay up treasure in Heaven".

A Newcastle man wrote that though finances were low he doubled the sum usually sent to the institution, "in faith and also with much joy". A sick missionary in the wilds of Africa sent £44 17s. 5d., being apparently all the money he possessed.

"Again and again," writes Mr. Müller, "I have had cheques amounting even to £5000, from individuals whose names I knew not before receiving their donations."

Other paragraphs in the report read thus: "Received anonymously five large cheeses; received a box of dessert knives and forks, a cruet, a silver soup ladle and a silver cup; from Clifton, twelve tons house coals; from Bedminster, a monster loaf, 200 lbs. in weight, and ten feet long and twenty-one inches broad".

On 1st August £82 5s. came "from a Christian gentleman in Devon, who for more than forty-five years has from time to time helped us, though I have never seen him".

"To-day," writes Müller on 7th September, "our income altogether was about £300--a plain proof that we do not wait on the Lord in vain; for every donation we receive is a direct answer to prayer, because we never ask a single human being for anything." On 29th October Mr. Müller writes: "For several days very little has come in for the support of the various objects of the institution. To-day, again, only about £15 was received by the first four deliveries of letters; at 5:45 I had for the third time that day prayer with my dear wife, entreating God to help us, and a little after 6 p.m. came a cheque for £200 by the fifth delivery, from Edinburgh."

A gold chain and watch-key, two gold brooches, and a pair of earrings were sent to Mr. Müller, with the following comment: "My wife and I having, through the exceeding riches of God's grace, been brought to the Lord Jesus, wish to lay aside the perishing gold of the world for the unsearchable riches of Christ, and send the enclosed for the support of the orphans".

The above are from a single yearly report--that for 1893. Scores of similar donations in money and kind are recounted in the same annual statement. In that year Mr. Müller was able to speak of his conversion as having taken place nearly sixty-eight years ago. The work has been wonderfully blessed. In the report mentioned Mr. Müller stated that the total amount he had received by prayer and faith for the various objects of his institutions, since 5th March, 1834, had been £1,309,627; that no fewer than 8727 children had been under his care; and that he had room at his Homes for 2050 orphans.

A LABOURER IN THE VINEYARD.

THE STORY OF ROBERT MOFFAT.

"Oh, mother! ask what you will, and I shall do it."

So said Robert Moffat as he stood with his mother on the Firth of Forth waiting for the boat to ferry him across.

He was sixteen years old, and having got a good situation as gardener in Cheshire was bidding farewell that day to home and parents, and about to face the world alone.

His mother had begged him to promise to do whatsoever she asked, and he had hesitated, wishing to know first what it was that she wanted. At last, however, remembering how good and loving she had always been, he had consented. Her request was a very simple one, but it was very far reaching.

"I only ask whether you will read a chapter in the Bible every morning and another every evening."

"Mother," he replied, "you know I read my Bible."

"I know you do," was her answer; "but you do not read it regularly, or as a duty you owe to God, its Author."

"Now I shall return home," she observed when his word had been pledged, "with a happy heart, inasmuch as you have promised to read the Scriptures daily. O Robert, my son, read much in the New Testament! Read much in the Gospels--the blessed Gospels! Then you cannot well go astray. If you pray, the Lord Himself will teach you."

Thus they parted--he starting on his life's journey with her earnest pleadings ringing in his ears.

Travelling in those days (1813) was so slow that it took him a full month to get to High Leigh in Cheshire; and on the way he narrowly escaped being captured by the pressgang and made to serve on a British man-of-war, which was short of hands. The vessel in which he was going south was indeed boarded, and one man seized; but Robert says, "I happened to be in bed, and keep it there as long as they were on deck".

He kept manfully the promise he had made his mother. Notwithstanding the difficulty he experienced in his busy life of setting aside the necessary time for reading two chapters a day from his Bible, he nevertheless faithfully did it.

At first this practice seemed to bring him trouble. It made him feel that he was a sinner, but how to get grace he knew not.

Ere long, however, his fears rolled away. He perceived that being justified by faith he had peace with Christ, and rejoiced in the grace and power of the Lord.

Some good Wesleyans took an interest in the young gardener, and he attended their meetings, which he found very helpful.

When a little later on he was offered a much better situation on the condition that he gave up Methodism he refused it, preferring, as he says, "his God to white and yellow ore".

One day he went to Warrington, and whilst there saw a placard announcing a missionary meeting, at which the Rev. William Roby was to speak. The sight of this reminded him of the descriptions his mother used to read of mission work in Greenland, and the subject became fixed in his mind.

A little later he had the opportunity of hearing Mr. Roby, and determined to call upon him and offer himself for mission work.

So great was his dread of making this call that he asked a companion to accompany him, and be present at the interview, but could only induce his friend to wait for him outside.

When he got to Mr. Roby's door his courage failed him; he looked longingly at his friend and began to retreat. However, his conscience would not allow him to surrender; and back again he went to the house, but still feared to knock.

At length after walking up and down the street in a state of painful indecision he returned and ventured to knock. A terrible moment followed. He would have given anything to run away, and hoped with all his heart Mr. Roby would be out.

This, however, was not the case; and, brought face to face with the mission preacher, he told his story simply and effectively, and Mr. Roby promised to write to the Missionary Society about him.

At first the offer of his services was declined, but later on it was accepted; and on 30th September, 1816, he was ordained at Surrey Chapel. Amongst others set apart at the same time was John Williams, the martyr of Erromanga.

It was at first proposed that Williams and Moffat should go together to Polynesia; but Mr. Waugh remarked that "thae twa lads were ower young to gang together," so they were separated.

At the age of twenty-one Moffat sailed for South Africa. The ship reached Cape Town, after a voyage of eighty-six days, on 13th January, 1817; and forthwith he started on his career in receipt of a salary of twenty-five pounds per year.

On his journey into the interior he stopped one evening at a Dutch farmer's, where he was warmly welcomed, and was requested to conduct family worship.

Before commencing he asked for the servants. The farmer, roused to indignation by such a request, said he would call in the dogs and baboons if Moffat wanted a congregation of that sort!

But the missionary was not to be denied. In reading the Bible he selected the story of the Syrophoenician woman. Before many minutes had passed the farmer stopped him, saying he would have the servants in.

When the service was over the old man said to Moffat, "My friend, you took a hard hammer, and you have broken a hard head".

His early missionary efforts were crowned with success. He visited the renowned chief Afrikaner in Namaqualand. This man had given much trouble to the Government, and £100 had been offered for his head. He became, however, sincerely attached to Moffat, and after a time he went to Cape Town with him. The authorities could hardly believe that this notorious robber had become so altered; but right glad were they at the change, and, when Afrikaner returned home, he took with him numerous presents from the Government.

In December, 1819, Moffat was married to Mary Smith at St. George's Church, Cape Town. She had been engaged to him before he left England, and had given up home and parents to go out to Africa and become a missionary's wife. No truer helper could Moffat have found, for she loved the work, and experienced great happiness in her life, notwithstanding all its toils and danger.

Shortly after, Mr. and Mrs. Moffat started for Bechuanaland. They went through many privations, and suffered much from hunger and thirst; but the Gospel was preached to the tribes. Moffat in those days was not only teacher and preacher, but carpenter, smith, cooper, tailor, shoemaker, miller, baker and gardener!

For some years Moffat laboured without seeing much result. One day he said to his wife, "This is hard work, Mary". "It _is_ hard work." she replied; "but you must remember the Gospel has never yet been preached to them _in their own tongue_."

Moffat had hitherto taught the natives through an interpreter. He now determined not only to master their language, but to get to know all about their habits and customs, so as to be able to lay hold of them more forcibly. He not only preached the Word in their native tongue, but set up in type and printed the Gospel of St. Luke and some hymns. Then he followed on with the other Gospels and also the Epistles, till the entire of the New Testament was translated into their language.

It must not be thought that a missionary's only cares are those connected with preaching. Far from it. To Mrs. Moffat, who tried to teach the women to be cleanly in their habits, they would say, "Ra Mary, your customs may be good enough for you, but we don't see that they fill the stomach".

The difficulty of getting sufficient food to eat was very real. The soil in the neighbourhood of the station was light and needed plenty of water, but the stream which supplied them with the necessary moisture for their vegetables was diverted from its channel by the natives, so that the missionary's garden was nearly burnt up by the hot sun.

On one occasion Mrs. Moffat asked a native woman to move out of her kitchen, as she wanted to close it before she went to church. For answer the woman hurled a log of wood at her; and she, fearful lest her babe should be hurt, departed, leaving the savage woman in possession of her home.

Whilst Mrs. Moffat had difficulties at home, her husband encountered many dangers abroad. Once whilst going in search of game he came upon a tiger, which seemed as if it were preparing to spring upon him. With the greatest caution he retired slowly from the place, and was just congratulating himself that he was out of danger when he trod on a cobra. The reptile twisted itself about Moffat's leg, and was about to bite him when he managed to level his gun at it and kill it. The poison of this snake is so deadly that had he been bitten his death would have almost instantly followed.

Though he was ready to lay down his life for their good, it was long ere the natives understood how firm a friend he was. At a time of great drought the native "rain-makers" declared that the bell of the chapel frightened away the clouds. So a number of people came to the missionary, and told him they were determined that he must go. But Moffat was not to be awed by the threats of the warriors. He told them that they might kill him, but he should certainly not be driven away. Then the chief and his followers gave up the contest and retired, full of wonder and admiration at his dauntless determination.

Once, whilst Moffat was away on a visit to a neighbouring tribe, his wife was aroused in the night by the report that a hostile tribe had invaded their territory and was close upon them. So Mrs. Moffat had to prepare for flight, but ere she had finished her preparations the good news came that the tribe had gone off in another direction. Yet even then she was in fear for her husband's life. But three weeks later, after enduring terrible anxiety, her husband returned in safety, having managed to escape the enemy.

Gradually a great and wonderful change came over the people amongst whom Robert and Mary Moffat lived. From utter disregard of teaching they began to exhibit signs of spiritual life, and a number were baptised and received into the Church.

In 1871 Robert and Mary Moffat, after living in Africa for upwards of half a century, returned home. From the letter to Mr. G. Unwin, which is here reproduced in facsimile, it will be seen that Robert Moffat's labours were not even then finished; for up to the last he took the greatest interest in the missionary cause.

His useful life came to an end in August, 1883, when he was in his eighty-eighth year.

"THE LADY WITH THE LAMP."

THE STORY OF FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.

"Lo! in that house of misery A lady with a lamp I see Pass through the glimmering gloom, And flit from room to room."

LONGFELLOW.

"She would speak to one and another, and nod and smile to many more, but she could not do it to all, you know, for we lay there by hundreds; but we could kiss her shadow as it fell, and lay our heads on our pillows again, content."

So wrote one of the soldiers from the hospital at Scutari of Florence Nightingale, the soldier's nurse, and the soldier's friend.

Let us see how it happened that Florence Nightingale was able to do so much for the British soldiers who fought in the Crimea, and why she has left her mark on the history of our times.

Miss Nightingale was born in the city of Florence in the year 1820, and it is from that beautiful Italian town that she derives her Christian name.

Her father was a good and wealthy man, who took great interest in the poor; and her mother was ever seeking to do them some kindness.

Thus Florence saw no little of cottage folk. She took them dainties when they were ailing, and delighted to nurse them when ill.

She loved all dumb animals, and they seemed to know by instinct that she was their friend. One day she came across her father's old shepherd, looking as miserable as could be; and, on inquiring the cause, found that a mischievous boy had thrown a stone at his favourite dog, which had broken its leg, and he was afraid it would have to be killed.

Going together to the shepherd's home they found the dog very excited and angry; but, on Florence speaking to it in her gentle voice, it came and lay down at her feet, and allowed her to examine the damaged limb.

Happily, she discovered it was only bruised; and she attended to it so skilfully that the dog was soon running about in the field again. A few days later she met the shepherd,--he was simply beaming, for the dog had recovered and was with him.

When Florence spoke to the man the dog wagged its tail as much as to say, "I'm mighty glad to see _you_ again"; whereupon the shepherd remarked: "Do look at the dog, miss, he be so pleased to hear your voice".

The fact that even her dolls were properly bandaged when their limbs became broken, or the sawdust began to run out of their bodies, will show that even then she was a thoughtful, kindly little person.

When she grew up she wished very much to learn how to nurse the sick.

But in those days it was not considered at all a ladylike thing to do; and, after trying one or two nursing institutions at home, she went to Germany, and afterwards to Paris, in order to make a study of the subject, and to get practical experience in cities abroad.

Miss Nightingale thus learnt nursing very thoroughly, and when she came back to England turned her knowledge to account by taking charge of an institution in London. By good management, tact and skill, the institution became a great success; but she was too forgetful of self, and after a time the hard work told upon her health, and she was obliged to take a rest from her labours.

The time came when the Russian war broke out and Great Britain and France sent their armies into the Crimea. Our men fought like heroes. But it was found out ere many months had passed that those brave fellows, who were laying down their lives for the sake of their country, were being so badly nursed when they were sick and wounded that more were being slain by neglect than by the guns of the enemy.

Then there arose a great cry in Britain; and every one demanded that something should be done to remedy this state of things. But nobody knew quite what to do or how to do it, except one woman,--and that woman was Florence Nightingale.

Mr. Sidney Herbert, the War Minister, was one of the very few people who knew anything about her great powers of organisation; and happily he did know how thoroughly fit she was for the task of properly directing the nursing of the sick soldiers.

So, on the 15th October, 1854, he asked her to go to the Crimea to take entire charge of the nursing arrangements; and in less than a week she started with about forty nurses for Scutari, the town where the great hospital was situated.

All Britain was stirred with admiration at her heroism; for it was well known how difficult was the task she was undertaking. But the quiet gentle woman herself feared neither death, disease nor hard work; the only thing she did not like was the fuss the people made about her.

Scutari, whither she went, is situated on the eastern side of the Bosphorus, opposite Constantinople. Thither the sick and wounded soldiers were being brought by hundreds. It took four or five days to get them from the field of battle to the hospital, their wounds during that tame being generally unattended to. When they arrived at Scutari, it was difficult to land them; after that there was a steep hill up which they had to be carried to the hospital, so that by the time they arrived they were generally in a sad condition. But their trials were not over then. The hospital was dirty and dismal. There was no proper provision for the supply of suitable food, everything was in dire disorder, and the poor fellows died of fever in enormous numbers.

But "the lady with the lamp" soon brought about a revolution; and the soldiers knew to their joy what it was to have proper nursing. No wonder the men kissed her shadow! Wherever the worst cases were to be found there was Florence Nightingale. Day and night she watched and waited, worked and prayed. Her very presence was medicine and food and light to the soldiers.

Gradually disorder disappeared, and deaths became fewer day by day. Good nursing; care and cleanliness; nourishing food, and--perhaps beyond and above all--love and tenderness, wrought wonders. The oath in the soldier's mouth turned to a prayer at her appearance.

Though the beds extended over a space equal to four miles, yet each man knew that all that human strength could do to forward his recovery was being done.

Before her task was finished Miss Nightingale had taken the fever herself, but her life was mercifully spared.

Since those days, Florence Nightingale has done many kindly and noble deeds. She has always lived as much out of the public sight as possible, though her work has rendered her dear to all hearts.