IN THE CAUSE OF MISSIONS.

47

How is this to be explained? How did the work begin? How was it carried on? It began with a young tradesman of the village. He came down from his business employments in London, full of what he had seen and heard at a Public Meeting of the Church Missionary Society. He began, and first his mother, then his brother, carried on the humble work of collecting penny and halfpenny weekly subscriptions, and circulating from month to month, with untiring regularity, the Church Missionary Record. Thus the work went on, steadily and noiselessly. Many were its discouragements: at times all things seemed to be against us; but the hand of the Lord was with His servants, and after many years of patient labour He cheered them by sending them a Pastor who loves the work as they do.

The brother is still a warm friend of the Society; while his daughters from month to month circulate the periodical publications of the Society; and the little annual gatherings in the School-room are such as cheer the Minister's heart, and refresh the spirits even of men who, like Bernau, have seen and addressed much larger and more influential assemblies.

We add a statement, which may, we trust, in connexion with what has already been advanced, tend to encourage some fainting ones, and perhaps, also, may rouse to exertion some who, under circumstances equally— but scarcely less-hopeless, are tempted to say, "The time is not come, the time that the Lord's House should be built."

State of the Funds of the Association at Midsummer 1849

THE REV. G. G. Cuthbert, in visiting the Krishnaghur Mission, discovered a singular temple near the Station of Bholobpur. It had evidently been built with great care and at much expense, but it had been cleft in twain by a peepul tree, which had rooted itself in the building, and, with its swelling roots and branches, had torn the whole asunder.

48

THE RUINED TEMPLE.

Where, by Jelingha's tide, the Hindu youth
Welcomes with joy the sound of Gospel truth;
Where Krishnaghur its rip'ning hopes displays,
And Christian Natives join in prayer and praise;
A Heathen shrine is found, by zealous hands
In former times constructed-there it stands,
An ancient pile: ages had passed away,
And left it little injured by decay.

But something now despoils it: on the ground
The scattered fragments of its strength are found,
Stone rent from stone, the massive walls uptorn,
And its high dome of decoration shorn.
Life in its growth has rent the pile in twain,
And strewed the shapeless ruins o'er the plain.
A seed fell there, within some crevice blown
By the strong wind, and there, in secret sown,
It grew the dews refreshed it, and the rain
Helped in its turn the seedling to sustain.
Its roots so flexible an entrance found
Through many a tiny aperture around.
Insinuated thus, they grew apace,

And, as they grew, required more ample space.
The contest then commenced; a wond'rous strife
Between the inert mass and swelling life.
The solid walls resisted, but, at length,
The slow but sure expansion, in its strength,
Burst the stone barriers, and scattered wide
The masonry which had its strength defied.

There is a gloomy pile of vice and guilt
By Satan's pow'r elaborately built;
Innumerable idols placed within

Teach, by their bad example, men to sin;
And, tainted by religion such as this,

Men serve their lusts, and call this service bliss.

But there a seed has fall'n, so small and mean
That men despised it; but it fell between
Opposing hindrances, and, through God's grace,
Found, where it least was hoped, an entrance place.
The truth was introduced, and there it lay,
Preserved of God, and nourished day by day.
And now it grows perceptibly: it shoots
Through the hard mass its penetrative roots.

Strange sounds are heard, and sudden flaws appear,
Which tell the time of dissolution's near;

And now and then, from the enfeebled walls,
As ominous of more, a fragment falls;

A living stone rolls off-a village prays

To be instructed in the Saviour's ways;

Sinners with willing ears the Truth receive,
And come with haste, impatient to believe;
Men break from caste, and friends and home resign;
The fibrous roots grow vigorous and twine
Around each buttress, tearing it away,
And op'ning the dark building to the day.
Soon may it prostrate fall, and in its place
Churches of true believers India grace!

LIVES OF MISSIONARIES.-THE REV. C. F. SWARTZ.
(Continued from p. 41 of our last Number.)

SWARTZ was a holy man.
God's grace enabled him to live con-
sistently. This, as we shall see, gave him much influence, and won
for him the respect of all people, Natives and Europeans. There
is nothing gives such weight as character. Men know from their
own experience how difficult it is to lead a holy and self-denying
life; and when they see a fellow-man like Swartz enabled to do so,
then they know that he has a principle and a source of strength
within him which they have not. Such a man will be respected,
and numbers, who cannot persuade themselves to give up the
guilty pleasures of a sinful life, in the depths of their own hearts
feel how well it would be for them if they were real Christians also.
What the Holy Spirit wrought in Swartz, He can do for us; only
let us humble ourselves before our God, and ask for grace in the
name of Jesus Christ.

Our readers would wish to know something of the personal appearance of Swartz, of his habits and way of life. He is thus sketched by the pen of his friend, Mr. Chambers

I had often heard mention of Mr. Swartz, before I went to see him, as a man of great zeal and piety, and learned in the languages of the country; but my ideas of him were very imperfect, and I had a notion that I should find him very strict and austere-looking. The first sight of him, however, made a complete change in my mind as to this point. His garb, indeed, which was very well-worn, seemed foreign and oldfashioned; but in every other respect his appearance was the reverse of what might be called forbidding. Figure to yourself a stout, well-made man, somewhat above the middle size, erect in his carriage and address, with a complexion rather dark, though healthy, black curled hair, and a manly engaging countenance expressive of unaffected openness and benevolence, and you will have an idea of what Mr. Swartz appeared at first sight.

His whole

At Trichinopoly his means of living were very narrow. income was about 481. a year; and an European may live in England much better on 241. a year than he could in India for 487. Let us see, then, how he managed with this income. He obtained of the Commanding Officer, who perhaps was ordered to furnish him with quarters, a room in an old Gentoo building, which was just large enough to hold his bed and himself, and in which few men could stand upright. With this apartment he was contented. A dish of rice and vegetables, dressed after the manner of the Natives, was what he could always sit cheerfully down to; and a piece of dimity dyed black, and other materials of the same homely sort, sufficed him for an annual supply of clothing. Thus easily provided as to temporal wants, his only care was to "do the work of an Evangelist."

This he was indeed enabled to do. He preached incessantly to the Natives, both in the town and in villages around. There was before him abundance of work. The country of Tanjore

LIVES OF MISSIONARIES. THE REV. C. F. SWARTZ.

51

is one of the richest in Southern India, and the wealthy Heathen in former times had spent immense sums of money in the building of pagodas, of which there are great numbers. One of the largest is at the Isle of Seringham, about fifteen miles below Trichinopoly. It is one mile long, and, being square, is four miles round. In the centre of each of the sides is a great Cobrum, or tower. The central space within the walls is filled up by one square within another, the innermost square being the seventh. There is the idol, Shiva being the false god worshipped. The hall of reception is supported by no fewer than 1000 great pillars, each being one stone hewn out of the rock. Around are huge figures of the false gods of India in great numbers. The great idol Shiva is of pure gold: it is made in pieces, so that it can be taken down and put up again at the festivals. One of the pieces, forming the hand to the wrist, would reach from a man's elbow to the end of the fingers, so that the whole image when set up cannot be less than fifteen feet high. Conceive an image of gold fifteen feet in height. Beside, there are precious stones, wherewith to dress the idol so as to hide the joints at the wrists, neck, and other parts, in wonderful quantities, chest after chest being full of diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, so as to dazzle the eyes. The Brahmins say that the treasures of the temple are worth no less than 625,0007.

In a country and amidst a people so wholly given to idolatry, Swartz laboured. He did not seem to know what it was to be discouraged. He believed the Truth was great, and that it would prevail. He went forth in simplicity of spirit, trusting to the power of God. What he said was pointed, and full of meaning. Once a Mahomedan asked him, "What is the difference between your religion and mine?" Swartz replied, "We both have a heavy burden of sin to carry you have none to remove it, but we have, in Jesus Christ, a powerful deliverer." Another said, "Show me God, that I may see Him, and I will become your disciple." "You speak," said Swartz, "like a sick man who wishes to become well without taking medicine. There is a sure way made known by God Himself: follow it, and you will see Him."

On one occasion he visited the great mosque at Trichinopoly. This mosque is said to contain the remains of a celebrated faqir called Natter, who was supposed to have performed many wonderful miracles 700 years before. At the tomb of this saint the Mahomedans come to worship every Thursday. On the occasion of Swartz' visit, two Mahomedans, entering into conversation with him, began to praise the merit of good works. "I will not," said he, "enter into a long discussion with you, as you have just used the Persian proverb, that He who disputes loses every time a drop of blood from his liver.' I will therefore simply state the truth of the Gospel. We are sinners, and deserve to be punished. That punishment we must either bear ourselves, or some other person, duly fitted to do so, must bear it in our stead.