The 
 
 Korea Pentecost 
 
 And Other Experiences on the 
 Mission Field 
 
 By 
 
 WILLIAM NEWTON BLAIR 
 
 r 
 
 * 
 
 PRINTED FOR USE OF THE BOARD AND MISSIONS 
 
 I 
 
 a 
 
 The Board ol Foreign Missions 
 of the Presbyterian Church in the U. S. A. 
 No. 156 Fifth Avenue 
 New York 
 
The 
 
 Korea Pentecost 
 
 And Other Experiences on the 
 M ission Field 
 
 By 
 
 WILLIAM NEWTON BLAIR 
 
 * 
 
 PRINTED FOR USE OF THE BOARD AND MISSIONS 
 
 0 
 
 The Board o( Foreign Missions 
 ol the Presbyterian Church in the U. S. A. 
 No. 156 Fifth Avenue 
 New York 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 
 
 https://archive.org/details/koreapentecostOOblai 
 
Table of Contents 
 
 Chapter 
 
 Page 
 
 I. 
 
 First Impressions 
 
 . 5 
 
 II. 
 
 Korea’s Preparation for the Gospel . 
 
 . 10 
 
 III. 
 
 Py eng Yang 
 
 . 15 
 
 IV. 
 
 Beginning to Preach 
 
 . 19 
 
 V. 
 
 Caring for the Churches .... 
 
 . 24 
 
 VI. 
 
 An Ju 
 
 . 28 
 
 VII. 
 
 An Ju (continued) 
 
 . 33 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The Church’s Testing .... 
 
 . 38 
 
 IX. 
 
 The Pyeng Yang Class .... 
 
 . 42 
 
 X. 
 
 The Korean Pentecost 
 
 . 45 
 
 XI. 
 
 The Results 
 
 . 48 
 
As I have traveled over the country in my year of furlough, 
 I have found everywhere the greatest interest in the progress of 
 the Gospel in Korea, and particularly a desire to know and under- 
 stand the facts concerning the great revival of 1907. To meet 
 this desire, I have put into writing my own recollections of the 
 revival. At first I planned to write only of that great outpouring 
 of God’s Spirit, but the events connected with that time were so 
 dramatic and unusual that I feared they would be misunderstood 
 without some account of the previous history of the Church and 
 the condition of national affairs. It is for this reason that I 
 have recorded first something of the history of the Church from 
 its beginning and some of my own experiences with the Korean 
 Christians during the eight happy years I have lived and worked 
 among them. 
 
 W. N. B. 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 First Impressions 
 
 There were six of us who sailed together from San Francisco 
 for Korea in August of 1901 on a Japanese ship, the America 
 Maru, going out for the first time as missionaries under the Board 
 of Foreign Missions of the Presbyterian Church in the United 
 States of America. Like most who go a-sailing for the first time, 
 we were seasick the first day, but the second morning found the 
 sea calm and beautiful. We were sailing straight on towards the 
 rim of a great, strange basin filled level full of blue-green solid- 
 looking water that resisted the vessel and foamed for miles along 
 our track. We seemed to be much lower than the distant horizon, 
 sailing continually upward, never reaching the top. There were 
 many Japanese and Chinese on the lower decks, both fore and aft. 
 Most were squatted in the sunlight recovering from the night’s 
 seasickness. A few had already spread their blankets in sheltered 
 spots, playing steadily for money with long, slender cards or with 
 dice. 
 
 Presently we discovered a man, seated apart from the rest, 
 dressed in the oddest costume I had ever seen. He wore a long, 
 loose coat of white silk with sleeves nearly a foot wide. On his 
 head was a shiny black hat with a stiff rim of three or four inches 
 and a high crown in the middle like an undergrown opera hat. 
 It was made, as we afterwards learned, of closely woven horse 
 hair, starched stiff and glistening and so transparent that one 
 could make out the shape of his peculiar hair dress with the knot 
 of black hair, stuck through with a white pin, running up under 
 the crown of the hat. From what we had read we knew he must 
 be a Korean and, going as we were to give our lives for Korea, we 
 were at once greatly interested and tried to talk to him; but he 
 knew little English and we no Korean, so we made poor progress. 
 The next day, however, we found a Japanese on board who said 
 he thought he could help us. Going down together, we said what 
 we wished to the Korean and the Japanese gentleman wrote it out 
 in those mysterious characters that adorn a Chinese laundry shop, 
 the classical language of the Chinese, which the Chinese and the 
 
6 
 
 Japanese and the Koreans all use in common much as Europe 
 used to use Latin. As our Japanese friend wrote, the Korean 
 stood looking over his shoulder. Presently we could see intelli- 
 gence dawning in the man’s face. He stretched out his hand and 
 took the pen and wrote back in answer, “My name is Whang. I 
 am not a Christian, but I am glad that you are going to Korea to 
 help my people.” 
 
 Every day after that, Mr. Whang came up on the upper deck 
 and taught us words out of the Korean language. There were 
 six of us, as I have said, in our party going to Korea as mission- 
 aries: Mr. E. H. Miller and Mr. W. M. Barrett, Miss Mattie 
 Henry and Miss Mary Barrett, and Mrs. Blair and myself. How 
 eager we were to begin, like children just starting to school, unable 
 to realize the herculean task before us and hence courageous to 
 begin. I have a note book with nearly two hundred words in it 
 which I caught from the lips of Mr. Whang. Many are incorrect, 
 some impossible of identification ; nevertheless the book is exceed- 
 ingly precious, my first steps in the Korean language. 
 
 By and by we came to Japan, first to Yokohama and then to 
 Kobe. Here we changed steamers. Mr. Whang went one way 
 and we another, and I have never seen our friend again to this day 
 and do not know whether he is a Christian or not; but I shall 
 always be greatly indebted to him. For one thing, just before 
 he went away, he came bringing each of us a motto written with 
 his own hand and a white silk handkerchief. We learned then 
 and there, what I have ever since found to be true of the Koreans, 
 that they are a loving, generous hearted people, knowing, it seems 
 to me, even before they have heard the words of the Master, that 
 it is more blessed to give than it is to receive. 
 
 Our new boat was not an America Maru, not even to be 
 compared with the well-equipped ferry that connects Japan and 
 Korea today. It was one of those little freighters that swarm 
 along the cost of Japan and Korea, with a Japanese crew and 
 captain and “foreign chow” after a fashion. 
 
 For a day we sailed down the beautiful inland Sea of Japan, 
 with its background of pine-clad mountains and waterfalls and 
 numberless islands, with great curved, carved roofs of temples 
 rising out of black, mysterious forests, villages, villages all the 
 way with their myriad white-sailed fishing crafts blocking the 
 water front or flocking to and from the sea. 
 
 Finally we reached Shimonoseki, the last Japanese port, and 
 at sunset turned our faces westward to cross the Korean Strait, 
 the last stage of our journey. The Korean Strait is usually rough 
 
like the English Channel. That night, how it stormed! We lay 
 all night desperately sick, longing for the morning. At last morn- 
 ing came and a quieter sea told us we were nearing land. Weak 
 and dizzy, we climbed to the deck and looked, and there before 
 us were the hills of Korea, bare, brown, desolate, as hopeless 
 looking hills as I had ever seen, without a tree upon them, in 
 marked contrast with the beautiful green of the Japan we had left 
 behind. We could make out here and there on the hillsides white 
 objects that looked in the distance like tombstones. “No,” some- 
 one said, “they are not tombstones, but Koreans cutting the 
 brushwood and even the grass, and binding them in bundles to 
 use as fuel in the open fireplaces underneath their houses.” 
 
 After breakfast we went ashore in a “sam-pan” to Fusan, 
 the port of Korea. Fusan was not then worthy to be called a city. 
 It was just a collection of mud- walled, straw-thatched huts with 
 here and there a tile-roofed house among them, all so low that 
 one could stand in the street and put his hand on the roof of any 
 one of them. It was hardly fair to speak of streets at all. Most 
 of the highways are narrow alleys running zigzag in and out among 
 the houses. We met many Koreans in the streets who turned to 
 stare as we passed by. A few of the men were clean, but most of 
 them wore soiled white garments with dirty head-bands and dis- 
 heveled hair. The children, playing naked in the streets, fled 
 screaming at our approach, and old women with faces wrinkled 
 and tanned like leather hastened out of their houses to see what 
 was the matter, with frightened babies on their backs, not stopping 
 to put on an overskirt over their padded trow r sers. Some wore 
 short jackets that covered a part of the breast. Many came out 
 w ithout their jackets, just as they had been working in the kitchen. 
 And the dogs w r ormed out of little square holes underneath the 
 walls in bands and set up a frenzy of barking. Korean dogs 
 strenuously object to Westerners. In all the years that I have 
 been in Korea I have been able to make friends with but one 
 Korean dog and he appeared to have foreign blood in him. Even 
 the heathen children in Pyeng Yang will come out and bow’ down 
 before us with their pretty “Pyeng-an ha-sim-neka?” (“Are you in 
 peace?”) but the dogsobject to us just as violently as they did nine 
 years ago. In the dead of the night, no matter how quietly I may 
 try to slip through the village back of my house, the dogs will smell 
 me out and arouse the village with their howling. The Koreans 
 say that we foreigners have an offensive odor to which the dogs 
 object. There, in Fusan, too, for the first time, we saw r Korean 
 pigs, those scavengers of Asiatic cities, with their long noses, thin 
 
8 
 
 backs and bellies dragging on the ground. No wonder Moses 
 forbade the children of Israel to eat the flesh of swine. We never 
 care to eat pork in Korea. The city had no sewerage whatever, 
 the filth from the houses coming out in a slow moving green stream 
 into open gutters. 
 
 It was August, the hot season of alternating rain and blister- 
 ing sunshine, and the sun with all its noonday strength blazed 
 down upon the rain-soaked ground until it fairly steamed, and the 
 stench went up like a cloud from the city. Weakened by the 
 night’s seasickness, we could scarcely resist the impulse to turn 
 back to our ship and return to the beautiful America, whence we 
 had come. Then it was that we thanked God for the Korean 
 gentleman we had met on the America Maru. We knew that 
 all the Koreans were not as dirty and hopeless as these people, 
 but somewhere back behind those barren mountains were men 
 like Whang; so we took courage and journeyed on. 
 
 Today there is a railroad from Fusan to Seoul, the capital, 
 and on along the west coast as far as Wei Ju. This was yet to 
 come in 1901. Leaving Fusan that evening, we proceeded around 
 the southern end of Korea on the same Japanese ship that brought 
 us over from Japan, and came in the evening of the second day to 
 Mok-po, a small port on the southwest corner of the peninsula 
 where the Southern Presbyterians have a mission station. We 
 went ashore in the dark and could see little of the place by the dim 
 light that filtered through the paper windows. Passing through 
 the town, we crossed what seemed to be a great mud-flat and came 
 to Dr. Owen’s house. How good it was to see an American home 
 again and the light streaming through glass windows. Dr. Owen 
 gave us a true southern welcome and took us to see the Korean 
 Church, a building in native style about twenty feet by forty feet, 
 with white paper on the walls and clean mats on the floor. A 
 curtain divided the room in two sections. It was prayer meeting 
 evening and about twenty men were seated on one side and about 
 twenty women on the other, not dressed in soiled garments like 
 the Koreans we had seen in Fusan, but clothed in spotless white. 
 Some one was praying as we entered, and they had all fallen for- 
 ward until their foreheads rested on the mat floor in reverential 
 Oriental fashion. 
 
 After the prayer, Dr. Owen told them who we were and it 
 broke up the meeting. They all crowded forward eager to tell 
 us how glad they were that we had come so great a distance to 
 help the Korean people. I shall never forget one old mother, who 
 took both my hands in hers and poured a stream of meaningless 
 
9 
 
 words in my ear; but the tears in her eyes and the love in her face 
 needed no interpretation. We often know a Christian man from 
 a heathen, even before he speaks, by his changed countenance. 
 We never have any difficulty in recognizing a Christian old woman. 
 All her life long she has been in ignorance and virtual bondage, 
 scarcely as valuable to her husband as the ox that plows his field, 
 rising in the dark to cook the meals for her lord and master, eating 
 after he has finished of whatever remains, toiling, often with a 
 baby on her back, not only in the house, but frequently in the 
 field with the men, unwelcomed at birth, unloved through life 
 and with no hope of a better world beyond, living continually in 
 fear of the demons that people earth and sky, afraid to live and 
 more afraid still to die. When to such an old Korean woman 
 just about to pass out into the unknown terrors beyond conies 
 the message of God’s love and forgiveness and of a home in heaven 
 and she understands enough to know that God loves her and gave 
 His Son in her stead, all the glory of it fills her soul to overflowing 
 and shines forth like sunshine, beautifying her old face with the 
 love of Jesus. 
 
 That night at Mok-po, when the Korean Christians gathered 
 around us in welcome, in a moment the dread and feeling of 
 strangeness, the impossibility of getting behind the mask that 
 masks an Oriental’s feelings, all fell away, and I have always felt 
 since then that I was just as close to a Korean Christian as to an 
 American brother. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 Korea’s Preparation for the Gospel 
 
 From Mok-po we journeyed north along the west coast, in 
 and out among the ten thousand islands that form the Korean 
 Archipelago. The west coast, in marked contrast with the for- 
 bidding eastern coast, is very beautiful. Some of the islands are 
 large, with villages in sheltered valleys; nearly all are wooded and 
 bright with flowers. The mountains in the western half of the 
 peninsula are low, with wide, fertile valleys between and many 
 rivers flowing into the Yellow Sea. 
 
 Korea is about 650 miles long and 150 miles wide, lying 
 between the thirty-fourth and forty-second parallels, about the 
 same latitude as the central portion of the United States. In the 
 north the climate is cold with two feet of snow on the ground all 
 winter. The south is like southern Japan, semi-tropical with 
 bamboo thickets. 
 
 The country abounds in small game, with deer and black bear 
 in the north and wild boar, leopards and a few tigers in the central 
 and southern parts. Nearly all the grains and fruits of America 
 are found in Korea. Wheat, cane, corn, barley, millet, buckwheat, 
 tobacco, ginseng, cotton, beans, potatoes and melons all do well; 
 but the staple is rice. Apples, pears, peaches, plums, grapes, 
 cherries, persimmons and berries of all sorts are easily grown; but 
 the native varieties are usually of poor quality, except persimmons, 
 which are exceptionally fine. The difficulty in the past of pro- 
 tecting fruit from thieves has greatly hindered its culture. Korea 
 is naturally a fruit country, and some day her hills will be covered 
 with orchards and vineyards. 
 
 The Korean people resemble the Chinese and Japanese in 
 appearance, but are distinct from either nation. Their language, 
 though containing many Chinese derivatives, is a separate root 
 language, difficult to master, but sweet and musical to the ear. 
 Korea has a fairly reliable history running back three thousand 
 years, with age upon age of uncertain myths still beyond. 
 
 The Koreans are naturally a poetic, deeply-spiritual people. 
 They love to study and ponder the wise sayings of the sages. 
 Even the humble homes of the farmers often have classical quo- 
 
11 
 
 tations written on walls and doorposts. A surprisingly large 
 proportion of the people can read and write not only their own 
 language, but the classical language of the Chinese as well. But 
 Korea’s great gift is her religious endowment, which amounts to a 
 religious genius, not so much in the invention as in the practice 
 of religion. 
 
 Although Confucianism originated in China, the Koreans 
 have out-Chinesed the Chinese in practicing some of its precepts. 
 The essence of Confucianism is reverence for established authority 
 and order, above all, that the son should honor his father. To the 
 literal-minded Korean this has meant that he should not dishonor 
 the past by attempting to improve upon it. Men have been put 
 to death in Korea for daring to make some new invention. 
 Gripped by this dominant religious idea, Korea has stood stock 
 still amidst the current of the centuries while China, in spite of 
 herself, moved slowly on until she was modern compared with 
 Korea. I have seen images in ancient Chinese temples with the 
 same topknot and general style of clothing that the Koreans wear 
 today, proving that centuries ago the Chinese and Korean customs 
 were similar. It is not necessarily a sign of weakness for a nation 
 to stand still as Korea has done. The forces of progress are well- 
 nigh irresistible. A strong religious conception and an ability 
 to realize in practice the faith she professed aided Korea to remain 
 immovable for three thousand years. 
 
 Buddhism came to Korea from India by the way of China in 
 the fourth century of the Christian era. It contained much that 
 was a distinct advance over the old Aninism. Confucianism 
 taught right conduct as an ethical system, Buddhism sought to 
 enforce it by religious authority. It provided a heaven for saints 
 and a fearful hell for sinners. A door of communion with the 
 spirit-world was opened up. Prayer and sacrifice were the keys 
 that unlocked the doors of the inner temple where forgiveness 
 might be found, and peace enjoyed forever. As she has always 
 done, when once her faith was won, Korea entered into Buddhism 
 whole-heartedly. She dotted her hills with Buddhist temples and 
 gave rich lands for their endowment. Korean Buddhist priests 
 crossed over the sea to Japan and converted the Japanese to Bud- 
 dhism. It was not a military but a spiritual conquest, won as 
 spiritual conquests are usually won, by martyr’s blood and irre- 
 sistible devotion. 
 
 Now we come to a special instance of God’s providence. 
 Buddhism is dead in Korea. Go to China and you will find the 
 temples in good repair, go to Japan and in every village you will 
 
12 
 
 find the temples flourishing, their roofs looming high above the 
 houses, you will hear the tinkle, tinkle of the bells and see the 
 multitudes pressing through the gates and bowing down before 
 tablets of wood and idols of stone, just as blind as ever. In Korea 
 it is not so. The temples are there, but they are falling and in 
 ruins. There are holes in the tiled roofs where the bats make 
 their homes, where the rainy season floods come through and rot 
 the wooden pillars. The people despise the few shaven-headed 
 priests who remain. The fact is, Confucianism killed Buddhism 
 in Korea. After its first enthusiasm had passed away and the 
 Buddhist Church became rich and powerful, the priests grew 
 corrupt and arrogant. Their lazy, immoral lives disgusted the 
 Korean people, schooled as they were in the high ethics of Con- 
 fucius, and when the Buddhist hierarchy sought to interfere with 
 the affairs of state, the government itself turned upon Buddhism 
 and gave it its death blow. Most of the temple lands were taken 
 away and the priests forbidden to enter the capital city. Today 
 they point a finger of scorn at a Buddhist priest, calling him a 
 “nom,” a “low down scoundrel.” 
 
 So we find a remarkable condition in Korea, a people naturally 
 intensely religious without any intrenched religion with priests 
 able to hinder the progress of Christianity. Confucianism, con- 
 sidered apart from ancestral worship, which has been added on, 
 is not a religion. It is a system of morals, the mosaic law of that 
 far eastern world, the schoolmaster, if you please, that is today 
 leading Korea to the feet of the Christ. 
 
 One other condition that must be noticed in any consideration 
 of the remarkable religious movement now going on in Korea is 
 her preparation of suffering and humiliation. The location of 
 Korea is unfortunate. Lying midway between China and Japan 
 she has been for thousands of years a bone of contention between 
 these two nations, both claiming suzerainty over her. First 
 China would demand and compel tribute, then Japan would pour 
 her warriors across the channel and punish the Koreans for yield- 
 ing to China. When these two nations had no quarrel with Korea 
 they have usually been at war with each other and have fought 
 out their quarrels on the long suffering soil of Korea until the land 
 has run red with blood again and again, untff the poor people, 
 unable to resist the hoards that came upon them, built cities of 
 refuge high in the mountains, where they might flee when one by 
 one their walled cities fell before the ruthless invaders. It is a 
 mistake to suppose that the Korean people are a cowardly people. 
 Their history is replete with records of heroism and desperate 
 
13 
 
 bravery in defence of home and country. They have simply been 
 overpowered. The marvel is that in spite of all they have suffered, 
 they remain unbroken and an integral people, with one language 
 and one blood, numbering today fully thirteen million. 
 
 No wonder Korea is poor. Not only has she been continually 
 desolated by war, but her own government has been as worthless 
 and rotten as possible. For centuries her kings have “farmed out” 
 the rule to magistrates and governors who paid many times the 
 salary for the office, and then squeezed back the amount and many 
 times more from the people by unjust methods. It has been as 
 much as a man’s life was worth for it to become known that he had 
 accumulated anything, unless he had powerful friends to protect 
 him. If the robbers neglected to come down from the mountains 
 and take it away, the robber magistrate would send out his “run- 
 ners,” arrest him on some trumped-up charge, throw him into 
 prison and beat him till he would be glad to pay all that he had for 
 his life. 
 
 Recently the greatest misfortune of all, at least in Korean 
 eyes, has befallen their country. After the Japanese-Russian war, 
 the Japanese withdrew a large part of their victorious army from 
 Manchuria back into Korea. Japanese soldiers were posted in 
 every city and hamlet. The few Korean troops were forcibly 
 disbanded and the common people compelled to give up their 
 guns. Even the old flint-lock guns that the mountaineers used 
 for tiger hunting were collected and burned in heaps, where I have 
 seen the mass of their tangled barrels lying. A treaty was secured 
 from the Korean government giving Japan absolute control of 
 Korea’s foreign affairs and virtual control of the internal admin- 
 istration. 
 
 It is easy enough for an outsider to look on and philosophi- 
 cally remark that it was inevitable, that it was either Russia or 
 Japan and better Japan than Russia. It is not so easy for the 
 sufferer to see God’s hand in the malady. I have no political 
 purpose in writing this narrative and am merely trying to show 
 conditions and how these conditions have conspired in God’s 
 providence to work out salvation for Korea. The simple truth 
 is that the Koreans are a broken-hearted people. Corrupt and 
 unworthy as their old government was, they love it just as we 
 love ours, love it all the more, no doubt, in proportion as it seems 
 to be taken away from them. It is pitiable to see them grieve, to 
 see strong men weep over national loss. They come to us and 
 say, “Is there any country so poor, so unfortunate as ours?” (But 
 it means much that their eyes are open. Formerly they were 
 
14 
 
 proud and arrogant, they were “wretched and miserable and poor 
 and blind and naked” and knew it not. Now they know just 
 where they stand. They know they are despised and rejected. 
 The arrow has entered Korea’s soul. Her spirit is broken. She 
 sits today in the dust, mourning, not only her present misfortune, 
 but her past sins; just in the attitude God can bless. Once more 
 His hands are stretched out in blessing over a stricken people, 
 “Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 
 Blessed are they that mourn for they shall be comforted.” Korea’s 
 great preparation for the Gospel of Jesus Christ is the preparation 
 of a broken heart. “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a 
 broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.” 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 Pyenq Yang 
 
 Many writers have told the thrilling story of the introduction 
 of Protestant Christianity into Korea. It is a significant fact 
 that two great American churches, the Methodist and Presby- 
 terian, were led to begin work in Korea at about the same time, 
 and that largely upon these churches and the reinforcements that 
 have come from the American Methodist Church South and the 
 American Southern Presbyterian Church and the Canadian and 
 Australian Presbyterian Churches has fallen the great burden 
 and privilege of bringing Korea to Christ. 
 
 The pioneers on the Presbyterian side were Dr. Horace N. 
 Allen, Rev. Horace G. Underwood, D. D., and Dr. J. W. Heron, 
 and on the Methodist side, Dr. William B. Scranton and Rev. 
 Harry G. Appenzeller. They were quickly followed by many 
 others. God’s blessing attended the work from the beginning; 
 but the great awakening undoubtedly began in Pyeng Yang, the 
 ancient capital of Korea, beautifully located on the west bank of 
 the Tai Tong River, about two hundred miles north of the present 
 capital. 
 
 Different missionaries had early visited Pyeng Yang, but it 
 was not till 1893 that Rev. Samuel A. Moffett of the Presbyterian 
 Church and Dr. W. J. Hall of the Methodist Church actually 
 established residences in the city. It was not my privilege to 
 know Dr. Hall personally as he died in 1895, but his memory is 
 fragrant in Pyeng Yang. The Koreans still love to tell of his 
 sweet character and zeal in proclaiming the Master. 
 
 To Dr. Moffett has fallen the great privilege and honor not 
 only to be the founder of the Pyeng Yang Church, but for seven- 
 teen years to be its guiding spirit and beloved leader. He has the 
 rare ability of uniting men, not so much about himself, as in the 
 common service. God has gifted him with wisdom and insight 
 into the'future to such a degree that the Koreans frequently allude 
 to him as a “sun-che-cha” (“prophet”). He is still a young man, 
 with light hair and gray-blue eyes, little changed, I fancy, from 
 the day he first entered the city. Stories are still current of the 
 excitement produced. The rumor spread like wildfire that a 
 
16 
 
 crazy foreigner had come to live in Pyeng Yang. Wonderful tales 
 were told of his height, of his narrow trousers, of his white eyes and 
 white hair and great beak of a nose. The Koreans wear huge 
 trousers; they have jet black hair and eyes and think all foreigners 
 have enormous noses. As people crowd to a circus here in America 
 they crowded to see Dr. Moffett till they blocked the road in front 
 of his house so that the ox carts could not go by. We are no longer 
 objects of great curiosity in Pyeng Yang, but out in the country 
 districts it is still common to have one’s room besieged. We grow 
 hardened, I suppose, and cease to mind very much except at meal 
 time. Then I always request my boy to shut the paper door and 
 window of my room. Frequently, however, if I look up suddenly 
 from my position on the floor in front of the little table on which 
 my meal has been served, I will find that several boys, perhaps 
 men, have come silently to the outside, and pressing moist fingers 
 to the paper window, have .punctured holes and are staring down 
 at me like the eyes of disembodied spirits. It gives a man a queer, 
 creepy sbrt of feeling down his back. During my seminary days, 
 
 I used to enjoy going to Lincoln Park and watching the keepers 
 feed the animals. Since going to Korea, I have often felt like 
 apologizing to the animals. 
 
 Among those who came to see Dr. Moffett was a stalwart 
 Korean named Chai Cho-si, who kept a saloon in the city, with a 
 blue flag split down the middle to show that he had liquor to sell. 
 This man came many times, no doubt to get a good story to tell 
 to the loafers in his saloon. In some way the missionary’s story 
 got hold of him and he understood enough of it to do what we say 
 in Korea, “Yasu mit-ki-rul chak-chung hasso,” beautiful words 
 they are, “he decided to believe in Jesus.” This man became a 
 strong right arm to Dr. Moffett. He closed his saloon and gave 
 much time to spreading the doctrine. Almost before they knew 
 it there was a church in Pyeng Yang, a company of men and 
 women professing the name of Jesus, assembling for worship on 
 the Lord’s Day. Then the magistrate heard of£it. “Ah,” he 
 said, “you can’t do that here. If you worship the foreigners’ 
 religion how are you going to worship the spirits of your ancestors 
 at the New Year’s time.” This is the great cross of the Korean 
 Church. Each New Year every son of Korea must go down upon 
 his face before the tablets that represent to him the spirits of his 
 dead ancestors. Not to bow down, not to offer the yearly sacri- 
 fice, is to be guilty of the greatest sin possible in Korea, filial impiety. 
 But Christianity has never been able to compromise with idols. 
 The Church has had to show that men can honor parents without 
 idolatry. 
 
17 
 
 The magistrate sent out his runners and arrested the Chris- 
 tians. Some were beaten, some were threatened with death. A 
 mob hurled stones at the missionary as he walked through the 
 streets. No one knows just what would have happened if, at 
 that juncture, there had not comedown from the north the Chinese 
 behind their yellow dragon banners. Up from the south came the 
 Japanese, new armed with modern rifles, and the Japanese-Chinese 
 war was on. The two armies met in Pyeng Yang. The little 
 company of Christians was scattered like sheep to the mountains, 
 as the early Christians were scattered at the time of the great 
 persecution in Jerusalem, and like those early Christians they 
 went everywhere preaching the Gospel. 
 
 Dr. Moffett was ordered to return to Seoul, the capital, by 
 the American minister. As soon as possible after the battle at 
 Pyeng Yang, he went back bringing several others with him. They 
 found the city burned to the ground, with the bodies of dead China- 
 men lying unburied in the streets. Soon word went out to the 
 surrounding country that the missionaries had returned and the 
 Christians began to gather back, bringing wonderful tidings of 
 little groups of Christians springing up all over the northland. 
 God’s Spirit had been using those days of war and peril to make 
 men welcome the message of His love and the comfort of the 
 Gospel. Have you ever seen a fire smoldering in the ashes on a 
 still day and suddenly a little whirlwind come down and lift up 
 the embers and scatter them all around and here and there and 
 yonder other fires begin burning? This is just what happened in 
 Korea. There was a fire God’s Spirit had kindled, burning in 
 Pyeng Yang. Suddenly the whirlwind of the war came down and 
 lifted it up and scattered the fire for hundreds of miles in every 
 direction and everywhere those living embers fell, on level rice 
 plains near the sea, in deep set mountain valleys, other fires sprang 
 up and began to blaze and spread until today the fire of the Gospel 
 bids fair to burn the whole length and breadth of the peninsula. 
 
 Reinforcements were hurried to Pyeng Yang. Every effort 
 was made to conserve the work, to visit each new group of believers. 
 The missionaries made long trips into the country in every direc- 
 tion, organizing and instructing the new converts. But in spite 
 of all they could do, though they lived among the Koreans till 
 their own children failed to recognize them, though they traveled 
 day and night, the work traveled faster. Overwhelmed, they 
 sent out a great Macedonian cry that has been ringing up and 
 down America, “Come over and help us!” 
 
 One of the Pyeng Yang missionaries. Rev. W. L. Swallen, 
 
18 
 
 came to America and to Chicago in 1901, when I was a senior in 
 McCormick Seminary. One Monday night he' addressed the 
 students and plead as a man pleads for his life, for some of us to 
 go out and help take Korea. “Ah,” I said, “that is a great story, 
 but I could never learn that language.” I had never enjoyed 
 language work in either college or in the seminary. “Surely,” I 
 reasoned, “if God wanted me to go to the foreign field he would 
 have given me more facility in language.” So I hardened my 
 heart. One night about the midnight hour, Mr. Swallen came to 
 my room. It was not till nine years after that I learned who told 
 him about me. “Blair,” he said, “why don’t you go to Korea? 
 Don’t you know we need you?” “Why, Mr. Swallen,” I answered, 
 “as far as the hardships and all that go, I think they would rather 
 appeal to me; but that language, I could never learn that language.” 
 “Are you honest?” he questioned. “Is that the reason you don’t 
 volunteer?” “Yes,” I said, “I think I am.” “Well,” he said, 
 “let me tell you something. When I was here in the Seminary, 
 I flunked in Hebrew. Have you flunked in Hebrew?” “If ever 
 in my life I wished that I might tell a man that I had flunked in 
 anything it was that night; but I had not actually flunked in He- 
 brew and had to admit it. Here was a man who said he had failed 
 in language and yet God enabled him to get the Korean language. 
 So I found I could not excuse myself on this score any longer. 
 After considerable deliberation, I wrote a letter to the young lady 
 out in Kansas who had promised to share life’s problems with me, 
 saying that I was ready to volunteer if she was willing to go, half 
 hoping, I am afraid, that she would say No. Her answer was this: 
 “I am so glad. I hoped you would volunteer.” So I sent my name 
 to the Board of Foreign Missions and was accepted and went out 
 to Korea as I have already described in the opening chapter, going 
 out a good deal like a drafted soldier, but I will never, never get 
 through thanking the good Lord that I did go, just when I did, 
 when I was so needed, in time to share in the great Pentecostal 
 movement that is sweeping Korea into the Kingdom. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 Beginning to Preach 
 
 We arrived in Seoul, Korea, September 12, 1901, and after a 
 month of various mission meetings went to Pyeng Yang where we 
 had been stationed. Of course our first task was to get the lan- 
 guage. If I had known how hard and how long a task it would be 
 I am afraid I would have been more frightened even than I was 
 back in Chicago. It is one of those old Oriental languages over- 
 burdened with words and endless endings. Euphony is its main 
 law. All the words are softened to harmonize with their fellows. 
 Each is dovetailed into the next till it is scarcely possible to tell 
 where one word ends and another commences. It pours forth in 
 a steady stream, a smoothly flowing uphill and downhill sort 
 of language. Sometimes I would make the most ridiculous mis- 
 takes. Chopping a word right in the middle and joining it with 
 half the next, I would go to some Korean and ask him what it 
 meant. “Morogesso” (“I don’t know”), he would say, and of 
 course he did not, for no Korean ever uttered such a combination. 
 
 I was almost in despair when one Sunday after service a slight, 
 clean-featured man named Ne Che-su came to me and said some- 
 thing that I could not understand, but I could make a distinction 
 in the sounds he uttered. At my suggestion, one of the mission- 
 aries asked Mr. Ne to become my teacher and he consented. I 
 remember well the first words he taught me. I was seated at my 
 desk ready to begin; but he was not. “Kedo-hapsata,” he said, 
 and I understood him for in a moment he had slipped from his 
 place by my side to the floor and was praying. “Kedo-hapsata” 
 (“Let’s pray”) and every morning and afternoon for three years 
 it was “Kedo-hapsata.” God sent me a Spirit-filled teacher and 
 he prayed the language into me, prayed and labored until I was 
 afraid not to study as hard as I ought. Sometimes when I was 
 dull of comprehension, he would act out the meaning. Once he 
 got down on the floor and wrapped himself up in the carpet in a 
 desperate effort to make me understand the word “chanda” (“I 
 sleep” ) . I have come to believe in the gift of tongues, not a sudden, 
 miraculous ability to speak an unknown language. That would 
 not be well for us nor for the people to whom we go. We are 
 
20 
 
 ignorant of their customs and dispositions. Our tempers are too 
 unruly and our tongues too swift. Dumbness at first is a blessing 
 to all concerned. But that God does keep His promise, that He 
 gives strength and patience and to our great surprise even pleasure 
 in studying the language, I know. Little by little our ears are 
 unstopped and the tight tied strings of our tongues are loosened, 
 till almost before we know it, as a child begins to prattle its moth- 
 er’s tongue, we begin to speak the language of the people about 
 us. I want to say here for the encouragement of any who may 
 be hesitating as I was, that it is not a question of special gift in 
 language or of a remarkable memory, so much as of a fairly good 
 ear and a willingness to work and live among the people. 
 
 As soon as I could speak enough Korean to begin, five countie: 
 were assigned to my care north of Pyeng Yang City, partly moun- 
 tainous and partly level rice plains along the Yellow Sea. At 
 first the church work was small and I had leisure to preach to the 
 people along the way. There are few good roads in Korea, only 
 crooked paths that seek the lowest passes in the mountains and 
 wind in and out between the rice fields. Most Koreans walk. 
 That seemed too slow for me, so I got a nice, red bicycle from Chi- 
 cago, but I soon gave it up. I met too many men leading enor- 
 mous oxen, loaded down with brushwood till they looked like 
 moving wood piles with horns in front and tails behind. You can 
 imagine what a great country ox like that would do if he met a 
 foreigner in a narrow path on a bicycle. Conditions have changed 
 greatly in Korea the last few years. We now have a railroad 
 running the length of the land so that a bicycle is no longer a 
 formidable matter. I am even planning to take out a motorcycle 
 to Korea to use on long journeys. Nevertheless, I mean to walk 
 as much as possible still, because it is the best way to preach the 
 Gospel. Jesus walked, and Korea today is a good deal as Pales- 
 tine was in the days of Christ. 
 
 I enjoy walking with my Korean friends, filling my lungs with 
 the fresh mountain air, jumping streams without bridges, throwing 
 rocks at impudent magpies. If it is a long pull up the mountain, 
 how delicious to sit awhile on the summit and rest, and look back 
 over the trail far below, to see the villages nestling like flocks of 
 quail at the base of the mountains, to see the tiny streamlets wind- 
 ing like silver ribbons among the rice fields. To the north and 
 south and east, as far as the eye can see, mountains behind moun- 
 tains, forest, peaks of mountains, till the gray of the mountains is 
 lost in the blue of the sky. To the west, a few scattered mountains 
 with broad valleys between, and in the distance the long line of 
 
21 
 
 the Yellow Sea, with the smoke of a steamer or the white sails of 
 junks going across to China. We have time to talk over the work 
 together, to plan the evening meeting, to discuss endless problems. 
 
 There is a system of market in Korea, five towns in a circle. 
 The market town may not have more than twenty houses; but 
 every fifth day it blossoms into a full-grown city, a great beehive 
 of peddlers with their wares spread out on mats along the road, 
 and farmers from miles in every direction. There is no set price. 
 It is a regular Jews’ market. Everybody shouts at the top of his 
 lungs to be heard above the din. What seems to be a fight is 
 probably only a prelude to a bargain, a friendly contest of wind 
 and wits between two old bluffers. It is a fine place to meet men 
 and a fine place to preach the Gospel. 
 
 Frequently we will overtake a crowd of farmers going to 
 market, a woman with a bundle of cloth on her head, a boy leading 
 a donkey laden with rice, perhaps a man with firewood piled high 
 on his back on a wooden frame called a “jickey,” or he may have 
 eggs in strings heaped high above his back like cordwood. They 
 put ten eggs in a string, placed end to end, and bound with rice 
 straw till you can grasp one end and hold the string out like a 
 poker. We may meet a man with a pig on his back, with the four 
 feet tied together and his nose bound so he won’t interrupt the 
 conversation, going along just as innocently as can be. 
 
 They smile at me and I at them. No one has any business 
 on the foreign field without a sense of humor. Presently, some- 
 one will hear me speak. “What, can the foreigner speak our lan- 
 guage?” he exclaims. “Oh, yes,” one of my friends will answer, 
 “he speaks very well.” The Koreans are exceedingly polite and 
 great flatterers, at least in your presence. By and by, I introduce 
 myself to the nearest man. No third party is necessary, etiquette 
 prescribing certain set phrases to use in introduction. I generally 
 begin by asking the man where he is going, then where he lives. 
 He probably answers, “Over behind that mountain,” and asks me 
 where I live, and I tell him, “Outside the West Gate at Pyeng 
 Yang.” Then I ask him about the price of eggs and chickens, 
 and we discuss the crops and the weather. Finally, I ask the 
 question that I have come from America to ask, “Have you heard 
 the story of Jesus?” Very likely he answers, “I know a little, but 
 not clearly.” Then I begin away back with how God made the 
 world for man’s benefit and filled it with fruit and flowers and all 
 that he needed for his good, how men everywhere turned their 
 backs upon the good God and bowed themselves down to tablets 
 of wood and idols of stone, and got to themselves thereby terrible 
 
22 
 
 hurt and damage; how sickness and sorrow, suffering and death 
 resulted. I tell hqw God so loved the world that He sent His Son 
 from Heaven and Jesus was born, not in the United States of 
 America, but in Bethlehem of Judea, down southwest of China. 
 It makes a world of difference to an Oriental to know that Jesus 
 was born in Asia. I tell of His life and His love, and at last of His 
 death on the cross. I know I never understood half the meaning of 
 the crucifixion till I stood by the wayside in Korea, forgetting to 
 go on, and showed a Korean who had never heard the story before, 
 how they pierced His feet and drove nails in His hands, and heard 
 the man say, “Aigo, kurus-sim-nika?” (“Oh my, is that true?”) and 
 had him promise to believe and perhaps found him in church the 
 next Sunday. 
 
 In those earlier days, there were few good places to sleep at 
 night, so we frequently stayed at public inns. The inn is usually 
 an ordinary Korean house, consisting of a living-room sixteen to 
 twenty feet long and eight feet wide, and a kitchen at one end with 
 a dirt floor dug out a foot below the level of the ground in order 
 that the flames and smoke from the fireplace, over which the inn- 
 keeper’s wife cooks the rice for her guests in a huge iron kettle, 
 can pass underneath the stone-slabbed floor of the living-room 
 by a system of flues cut in the ground, and out of a high chimney 
 at the farther end. Mud mixed with finely chopped rice straw 
 is plastered over the stone floor. At first the heat cracks the mud, 
 but after being washed a few times with a wet broom the whole 
 floor bakes hard and smooth like the floor of an oven. The room 
 is generally quite bare of furniture except a mat on the floor, a 
 box on one side where the bedquilts are kept by day, and two 
 earthen vessels at the upper end of the room half full of liquor. 
 
 Usually there are anywhere from three to ten guests ahead of 
 us, already stretched out on the warm floor, or sitting cross-legged, 
 puffing away at their long tobacco pipes, till the room is choked 
 with smoke. In winter, no matter how many people occupy the 
 room, all the doors and windows are kept tight shut to conserve 
 the heat in the stone floor. Scientists tell us wonderful stories 
 about how many cubic yards of fresh air a man must have to exist. 
 It is evidently not so, at least in Korea. 
 
 Whenever possible, I bribe the innkeeper for a small^inner 
 room. Sometimes I have recklessly paid as high as ten cents to 
 get him to send his wife and children to the neighbors and give me 
 his private quarters; but frequently bribery fails, or there is no 
 inner room, and I have to share the front room with the family 
 and the public. Every good itinerator is prepared for such an 
 
2 .'? 
 
 emergency. We usually take a pack pouy with us, loading him 
 down with two wooden boxes about the size of cracker boxes, and 
 tied firmly one on either side of the wooden pack saddle. In one 
 of the boxes is placed canned goods and cooking utensils for the 
 journey, and in the other books and clothing. On top of the boxes 
 is placed a large bag, called a “tarrion,” packed with bed clothing, 
 and on top of the “tarrion,” the most wonderful thing a missionary 
 possesses, his folding army cot. I generally carry a rubber blanket 
 to protect the load from rain, and the pack is complete. 
 
 When I have to sleep in a public inn, I first unfold the cot to 
 the unbounded astonishment of the Koreans, and place it cross- 
 wise with the room, just as close as possible to the w hiskey barrels, 
 not because I particularly admire the whiskey barrels, but because 
 the Koreans prefer the lower, hotter part of the room and I decided- 
 ly do not. Then my rubber blanket is hung up for a partition 
 across the room and I am ready to sleep. Not quite, either. When 
 the lights are out, I rise and stealthily cut a slit down the paper 
 window about a foot long and two inches wide. This is what 
 habit does for a man. I could not possibly sleep in that air-tight 
 room with all those Koreans. The next morning a few pennies 
 w r ill more than compensate the owner. 
 
 Most Korean inns are also livery stables, with a long shed to 
 the rear w r here the horses and donkeys are fed bean soup in a long 
 log trough with hollowed out sections. Long after I have gone 
 to bed I can hear them fussing with their horses. Each animal 
 is put to bed by having a rope passed under his belly and cinched 
 up to a strong beam overhead. A unique device to save currying. 
 There they swing on tiptoe in a long row, half standing, half hang- 
 ing, all the night through; restlessly jingling the bells under their 
 necks, and at intervals breaking loose and arousing the neighbor- 
 hood w r ith their kicking and squealing. Needless to say, an inn 
 is a poor place for slumber. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 Caring for the Churches 
 
 Nowadays we rarely sleep in inns. The church work has 
 grown until there are now more than forty church buildings in my 
 five counties. It takes two months to go around the circuit once. 
 Many of the churches are large, with several hundred people pres- 
 ent every Sabbath. All told, there are fully 4500 Christians in 
 the churches under my care. The last time I went to Yung You, 
 one of my country churches, seven hundred people met me for 
 service Sabbath afternoon. The church was filled with women, 
 the men sitting outside on mats under a canopy. I stood in a 
 window, one leg inside and one leg outside, and preached the 
 sermon. This growth is by no means peculiar to my own territory. 
 Many of the missionaries have a much larger work under their 
 care. In all Korea today there are not less than 250,000 Chris- 
 tians worshipping God in more than 2000 places, where they have 
 churches erected and supported almost entirely by themselves. 
 
 Several years ago an old widow named Kim-si, or daughter 
 of Kim, heard how a certain woman once built a chamber for 
 Elisha, putting in a bed and a seat and a candlestick. Kim-si 
 thought that would be a good thing to do for me, so when she built 
 a new house she added a room for me, papering it with clean white 
 paper decorated by a local artist, with pictures of birds and flowers. 
 The idea spread to other churches until now wherever I go, I 
 generally find a room near the church freshly papered and pre- 
 pared for me. 
 
 I am almost ashamed to tell how the Koreans love and honor 
 their missionary pastor. Each of us has half a dozen or more 
 Korean assistant pastors, or helpers, as they are technically called, 
 who care for the churches during the missionaries’ absence. Most 
 of these men are students for the ministry and will some day be 
 ordained and given full charge of churches as pastors. As yet, 
 however, there are only a few ordained Korean pastors and the 
 great bulk of ecclesiastical authority is still in our hands. 
 
 Let me relate the actual happenings on my last country trip 
 before leaving Korea on furlough. Dr. Baird, principal of our 
 Pyeng Yang College and Academy, was absent last year on fur- 
 lough, and Mr. Bernheisel and I did the best we could to assist 
 Mr. McCune and keep the school running. It is no sinecure, I 
 
25 
 
 can tell you, to step from evangelistic work into a professor’s chair 
 in college and teach four or five hours daily such subjects as politi- 
 cal economy, geometry and general history in the Korean language. 
 
 My country work necessarily had to be neglected. Some of 
 the churches were visited only once last year. My last trip was 
 made to Nam San Moru, a church of over two hundred Christians 
 in a little valley twelve miles north of Pyeng Yang. I had been 
 teaching in the college all the week and left for Nam San Moru 
 Friday afternoon after school on a little donkey, so small that my 
 legs almost dragged on the ground, but surprisingly strong and 
 pugnacious. My loads had gone out on men’s backs some hours 
 before. Two men carried my boxes twelve miles for twenty-five 
 cents apiece. 
 
 The road to Nam San Moru goes out through a gate north of 
 our house in the old Ke-ja wall, three thousand years old. After 
 a hard struggle with the donkey I finally got him saddled and we 
 shot out through the gate and across the plain toward Nam San 
 Moru, the donkey braying good-bye like a fog horn. 
 
 About two miles from Nam San Moru, I found a company of 
 Christians waiting for me at a little village, with thirty school 
 boys drawn up in a straight line by the roadside. Nearly all the 
 stronger churches have boys’ schools and some have girls’ schools. 
 There are twenty-six church schools in the five counties under my 
 care, all entirely supported by the Korean Christians. 
 
 After the greetings by the roadside were over, we started 
 toward the village of Nam San Moru together, a small boy taking 
 proud possession of my donkey, now quite tamed by the rapid ride, 
 while I walked with the men. Just in front of the village we found 
 the old women and the girls from the girls’ school, the latter dressed 
 in rainbow tinted dresses and drawn up in line, like the boys, to 
 meet me. 
 
 The Nam San Moru church is a fine tile-roofed building, 
 prettily situated in a cluster of oak trees back of the village. Here 
 we assembled and each man came forward for his individual greet- 
 ing. How they do love to be remembered! “Nal amneka?” (“Do 
 you know me?”) is asked again and again; and how can I know them? 
 Over four thousand Christians under my care and I able to visit 
 them only twice a year! Why, I can scarcely keep track of the 
 church officers, to say nothing of the hosts of new believers. One 
 thing helps greatly. The Koreans are in tribes and most of them 
 seem to belong to the Kim tribe. If I fail to recall a man’s name, 
 it is good policy to say, “You are Mr. Kim, aren’t you?” and if I 
 hit it he will be delighted with my excellent memory. 
 
26 
 
 Calling the officers, we went apart to a small room and pre- 
 pared for business. First, the roll book was produced. Each 
 church keeps an accurate record of the church attendance of all the 
 Christians. A cross means present and a cipher means absent. 
 Running my eye hastily down the list I found several names with 
 only ciphers. Some proved to be sick or absent from the village, 
 but several had fallen into sin and quit coming. “Be sure and 
 bring these men tonight,” I told the officers. “Don’t use force, 
 but compel them to come if you can.” 
 
 We found twenty names on the roll of catechumens who had 
 been attending faithfully for more than a year and not yet bap- 
 tized. The ordinary course is to receive a man publicly as a cate- 
 chumen after he has been a Christian for three months and then 
 one year later examine him for baptism. We sent for these twenty 
 and examined them three at a time. Not a perfunctory, matter- 
 of-course ceremony but a real examination, with a weighty decision 
 at the close, whether baptism should be administered or not. 
 “How long have you been a Christian? Who is Jesus? Why do 
 you believe in Him? Have you kept the Sabbath faithfully since 
 believing? Can you read? Do you have family prayers in your 
 home daily? Have you brought anyone to Christ?” We seek 
 to discover through it all whether the person exa min ed is sincere, 
 looking earnestly for the fruits of the Spirit in the new life. If I 
 find a man or woman under fifty who has not learned to read the 
 Bible, or a man whose wife is not a Christian, I nearly always 
 postpone the baptism till more convincing proof is given of real 
 zeal and love for the Master. That night we voted to baptize 
 seventeen out of the twenty. 
 
 While the examination was going on, the Korean boy who 
 always travels with me had been busy getting supper ready in an 
 adjo inin g room. As soon as opportunity offered, he served my 
 meal on a little round table about a foot high. After supper we 
 hurried to the church for service to find the building packed so 
 that an aisle had to be cleared for me to reach the platform. It 
 was then half-past nine o’clock. Most of the audience had been 
 waiting since noon. The meeting was necessarily a long one. 
 First came the singing and several prayers, then an election of 
 deacons and a special offering for Helper’s salary, which should 
 have been taken before I came. After the reception of catechu- 
 mens, I baptized the seventeen whose examination had been 
 satisfactory and then several children. Next was the sermon, not 
 a short one either, followed by public reproof and suspension of 
 the three recreant members, and last of all the Lord’s Supper 
 
27 
 
 when a deep and solemn hush rested on the upturned faces and 
 Jesus Himself drew near with His rich and unfailing blessing. 
 
 It was past midnight before the benediction came, and I was 
 weary enough to sink to sleep where I stood; but no, the hardest 
 task of all lay before me. The three men I had summoned were 
 there. I had to take them apart and try to win them back to 
 repentance. This is where the real test comes. This is where 
 the Korean Church most needs us. They can win converts and 
 preach the Gospel better than we can. They can build their 
 churches and support them; but they wait most of all for us to 
 come and bring back these who have fallen away, who refuse their 
 pleading. Only on one’s knees, by prayer and entreaty and tears, 
 can it be done. Gratefully, I record the repentance of all three 
 that evening. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 An Ju 
 
 The best way to understand the whole church is to know one 
 congregation intimately. Let me introduce you to the church 
 in An Ju. 
 
 In the spring of my first year in Korea, Dr. Moffett took me 
 with him on a trip through his district north of Pyeng Yang City. 
 After ten days of journeying from place to place, we came one 
 evening to the walled city of An Ju, the principal city between 
 Pyeng Yang and Wei Ju on the Chinese border. The city proper 
 is situated on the south slope of a range of low mountains guarding 
 the Chung Chun river. The old Seoul-Pekin road, entering by the 
 southeast gate, forms the main street of the city. Half way up 
 the mountain is a second, inner wall, and still farther up a third 
 wall, the citadel, the last place of refuge in time of battle. The 
 mountains are covered with beautiful old, gnarled and twisted 
 pine trees. The city abounds in springs, several flowing from 
 solid rock in steady crystal streams, ten inches deep and from 
 four to six feet wide, all joining to form one broad brook and 
 spreading into a lake inside the outer wall. The walls are formed 
 of great stones, mostly cut, and built up twenty feet of solid 
 masonry. Inside, the wall is banked wdth dirt, thickly carpeted 
 with grass and flowers and fringed with weeping willow trees. 
 Scores of little shrines are clustered along the wall among the 
 willows, while back on the mountain side are several large temples, 
 and an altar on the highest point where sacrifice is made to heaven. 
 
 The people of An Ju are very proud of their blood and ancient 
 families. They are not so poor as many communities and conse- 
 quently more conservative. Though Christian preachers, both 
 foreign and native, had visited the city frequently, no visible 
 impression had been made. We found only one man named Kim 
 and his wife in the city and a saloon keeper’s wife outside the city 
 who made any profession. Several Christians came in from sur- 
 rounding villages and we met that night in the rear room of the 
 saloon, Kim’s house not being large enough to accommodate even 
 the small company that assembled. This man Kim, by the way, 
 is a fine gray-bearded old gentleman with a hearty laugh and a 
 
29 
 
 violent temper. He would preach to his neighbors about Jesus 
 and if someone refused to believe or became abusive, old Kim 
 would lose his temper and proceed to pound religion into him. 
 I had to postpone his baptism two years till he learned to control 
 his unruly temper. 
 
 The next morning, Dr. Moffett took me for a walk on the 
 wall. Standing on a high point overlooking the city, he told me 
 for the first time why he had brought me to An Ju. “This city,” 
 said he, “is one of the strategic places in north Korea, and I hope 
 it may be assigned to you.” He showed me how the trade from 
 the far-off Kang Kei region passed through An Ju, how a church 
 planted here would do much to evangelize the entire section. I 
 gladly consented to undertake the work if the Mission saw fit to 
 appoint me to it. That fall at Annual Meeting, the An Ju work 
 was assigned to my care. I put all my young enthusiasm into it, 
 not forgetting Dr. Moffett’s counsel. Where I visited other cities 
 once, I visited An Ju twice, and God prospered the work from the 
 beginning. In a short time enough Christians had been gathered 
 to buy a small straw-thatched house inside the city. Here we 
 hung out our sign, “Yasu Kyo” (“The Church of Jesus”) and 
 hoisted the national flag on Sunday to guide strangers to service. 
 
 In God’s good providence, two splendid young men, just my 
 own age, Christians from near-by villages, moved to An Ju and 
 engaged in business. They became the natural leaders. God 
 prospered their business and they gave a tenth of their incomes 
 to the church and much more than a tenth of their time, without 
 other pay than the joy of service, to preaching the Gospel and 
 church work. 
 
 So the An Ju church prospered; but one thorn continually 
 aggravated us — the Methodists began work in An Ju too. Their 
 leader was very zealous. The father and brother of one of our 
 leaders became Methodists, and our people were greatly offended. 
 Thus was the Body of Christ in this heathen city needlessly divided. 
 Mr. Morris, the Methodist missionary in charge, and I were inti- 
 mate friends and tried hard to prevent misunderstandings, to 
 teach the two congregations to regard each other as brethren, as 
 helpers together in a common cause and not rivals. Our efforts 
 were far from successful. The thing was wrong and inevitably 
 bred contention and suspicion. 
 
 Matters stood thus in 1904, the year the Japanese-Russian 
 War swept down upon us. An Ju, like Pyeng Yang, became a 
 Japanese center even after the Russians had been driven far be- 
 yond the Yalu. During the first uncertain days of the war, we 
 
30 
 
 American missionaries were confined to Pyeng Yang by govern- 
 ment order, and could do little but watch the Japanese troops 
 march in and out of our city. I doubt if the world has ever seen a 
 finer army than that first Japanese army of invasion. Day by 
 day they marched in from the south, storing their baggage on our 
 college campus, and out the next morning by the Pekin road, right 
 past our houses, silently, without martial music except the occa- 
 sional call of a bugle. We heard from the Koreans that every 
 Japanese soldier carried on his person some means of death in 
 case of capture. They expected a desperate conflict and went 
 forward by no means sure of victory, but determined to win or 
 die. A great deal has been published concerning the hardships 
 inflicted upon innocent Koreans by disorderly Japanese who fol- 
 lowed the army. I can speak only in praise of the regular army. 
 Although the troops had to be quartered throughout the city in 
 Korean houses, not a single case of outrage was reported to us. 
 Our rights as American citizens were scrupulously regarded. 
 Scarcely a soldier entered our grounds. 
 
 Naturally, I was anxious about my country churches. As 
 soon as it appeared at all feasible, I went to the Japanese Resident 
 in Pyeng Yang and asked permission to visit my country district. 
 He consented and gave me a passport written in .Japanese and 
 English which proved of great service to me afterward. The 
 English translation is odd, but interesting: 
 
 “Rev. Wm. N. Blair. The above named person, 
 being American Reverend, is going in An Ju, Sook 
 Chun and Kai Chun for preaching, and will be al- 
 lowed to pass freely without hindrance, and such 
 assistance will be given as he may be in need of. 
 
 Depot of Supplies in Pyeng Yang. 
 
 To Japanese Depot of Supplies and Troops at the 
 places in the bearer’s trips.” 
 
 With this passport as security, I went freely among my 
 churches, meeting troops everywhere, but receiving only courtesy 
 and kindness. Later when the government railroad was finished, I 
 found to my delight that the guards readily honored my passport 
 and let me ride on the construction trains without charge. 
 
 It was on this first country trip, during the war, that I came 
 one evening in company with several Koreans to the main road 
 in front of An Ju, and was surprised to find the telegraph wires 
 cut south of the city. Reaching the city, we found the gates 
 closed and Japanese soldiers on guard above. We learned from 
 
31 
 
 Koreans living outside the wall that a company of four hundred 
 Cossacks had suddenly come down from the north the day before, 
 and after cutting the wires had taken position on a high hill to the 
 east and opened fire on the city. There was only a small Japanese 
 garrison in An Ju at the time. Most of the Korean population 
 fled in terror at the first shot. 
 
 Fortunately for the Japanese, they had discovered the Rus- 
 sians in time to telegraph the news before the wires were cut, to 
 Sook Chun, twenty miles south, where another small garrison of 
 one hundred men was stationed. The Sook Chun company 
 started at once on a run and ran the entire twenty miles to An Ju 
 without stopping. 
 
 Meanwhile a hot battle raged in An Ju. All the extra guns 
 the Japanese could spare were put in the hands of Koreans with 
 the instruction, “Never mind if you can’t hit anything. Shoot 
 and make a noise.” The Russians never knew the weakness of 
 the place or they would have taken it at once by storming the 
 walls. 
 
 When the Sook Chun company arrived, the An Ju command- 
 ant threw open the gates and led out his men. Together the less 
 than two hundred Japanese soldiers charged straight up the hill 
 and drove the Russians pell mell down the other side. Probably 
 more Japanese were killed than Russians; but the point is that 
 the Russians fled, leaving enough dead to make a large mound not 
 far from the Kai Chun road east of the city. 
 
 This explained the shut gates. The Russians were still in 
 the neighborhood and the Japanese fearful of a second visit. Our 
 problem was how to get into the city. Word had been forwarded 
 to the An Ju Christians to expect me that evening and it was time 
 for service. Presently a Korean came, saying he could guide us 
 over a breach in the wall. Very quietly we made our way along 
 the wall, crawled on hands and knees up broken defiles half way 
 between the gates, and were soon inside the city, being welcomed 
 by our overjoyed brethren at the church. Not a single Christian 
 had fled. Christianity is a religion of peace; but it is amazing 
 how it stiffens men’s backbones and gives new courage to defend 
 their rights and homes. 
 
 We were busy that evening and all the next day at the church. 
 About four o’clock, several of us went for a walk. I expected to 
 be arrested and was not disappointed. The first Japanese coolie 
 who saw me started off on a run, and in a few minutes a squad of 
 soldiers came marching our way on a double quick and put us all 
 under arrest. I knew enough Japanese to say “headquarters,” 
 
32 
 
 and to “headquarters” we went, with a soldier on either side and 
 a crowd of excited coolies behind. 
 
 The commandant spoke a little English, though my passport 
 would have been sufficient identification. With a flourish, he 
 dismissed the crowd, and escorting me into his private apartment, 
 entertained me with tea and cake and the story of the battle the 
 day before. He showed me a heap of Russian fur coats and 
 high boots, with guns and swords discarded in the flight, and two 
 Russian prisoners, one a great bearded fellow and the other a mere 
 lad. My sympathies at the time were entirely with the Japanese; 
 but I shall never forget the feeling that surged over me as I tried 
 to talk to these two Russians. They were white men, prisoners 
 in the hands of an alien race, and all the blood of our common 
 heritage surged through my body in an overwhelming wave of 
 sympathy and desire to set them free. 
 
 This battle gave us our new church in An Ju. The Christians 
 saw their opportunity. “Everybody has run away,” they said, 
 “and the soldiers are stabling their horses in the houses. The 
 bottom has dropped out of the price of property. Now is the time 
 to buy a new church.” It may have been a bit canny; but what 
 a splendid exhibition of faith. One of the best houses in the city 
 was offered for sale. By strenuous efforts half the price was 
 secured; but only half. Possibly, I might have advanced the 
 balance needed; but it is against our Mission rules and policy to 
 put American money in Korean churches. The temptation to do 
 so is often great. They are so poor, how can they give all the 
 funds necessary? Yet experience has proven that it is better to 
 let them bear the burden alone and grow strong by bearing it. 
 They always manage somehow. When every resource had seem- 
 ingly been exhausted, Choi-si, a widow with some property but 
 no ready money, came forward. “We must have this house,” 
 said she, “and if you all agree, I will give my home in the country 
 as payment and live in one room of the church as the keeper.” 
 Choi-si’s offer was accepted as a gift from God. In twenty-four 
 hours the building was ours and a force of men were at work trans- 
 forming it into a church. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 An Ju ( continued ) 
 
 In the fall of 1904, when danger of Russian invasion had 
 passed, Miss Helen Kirkwood, Mrs. Blair and I went to An Ju to 
 hold a Bible study class for women. Lois, our oldest child, not 
 quite two years old, and Katharine, only four months old, went 
 with us, Lois in a Korean chair with the Korean nurse, and Kath- 
 arine with her mother. Strong coolies carried the chairs frotn 
 Pyeng Yang to An Ju in two days. We secured a Korean house 
 near the church and made it as clean as possible with fresh mats 
 and white wall paper. Everything was progressing nicely when 
 on the third day Lois was taken violently ill with dysentery. We 
 used all the simple remedies we knew, with no effect. The child 
 was failing so rapidly that we dared not wait for a doctor from 
 Pyeng Yang. Taking a Korean interpreter with me, I went up 
 the hill to the Japanese barracks and inquired for a physician. 
 Dr. Matsumoto, a slight man with delicate features, responded to 
 our call, and upon learning the trouble, immediately accompanied 
 us to our quarters. He spoke neither English nor Korean. We 
 had to communicate with him by writing Chinese; but little com- 
 munication was necessary. The child herself was an open book to 
 him. No physician ever inspired me with greater confidence. 
 Gratefully, we intrusted our darling to his care. It was good to 
 see that he loved little children, touching the yellow curls very 
 tenderly and exclaiming over her childish beauty. He had chil- 
 dren of his own in “Dai Nip-pon,” and took up the battle for opr 
 little one’s life as if she were his own. For five days the malady 
 ruthlessly wasted the fair form till it became a shadow. Too 
 anxious to sleep and too miserable to talk, the mother and I 
 watched by the bed side continually. As the case grew more 
 serious. Dr. Matsumoto came several times a day, and at last, 
 when the little life hung in the balance, brought several army 
 physicians, summoned from somewhere, for consultation. God 
 had mercy on us. In the end, the medicine conquered, and we 
 were able to carry our darling to Pyeng Yang and nurse her slowly 
 back to health. It was six months before she was able to walk 
 again, but no permanent injury resulted. 
 
34 
 
 Before leaving An Ju, I called upon Dr. Matsumoto to thank 
 him for his assistance, and pay for the medicine and care. “Oh, 
 no,” he said, “my country is rich; besides I have a little girl in 
 Japan like yours, and who knows but in my absence she may be 
 sick and need such care from another as I have given your child.” 
 “Surely,” I said, “you will let me pay for the medicine.” But no 
 amount of pressure could move him to accept anything. “No,” 
 he said, “but if you have a picture of the little maid, I would be 
 glad to receive it.” You may be sure he got the picture. This 
 man was not a Christian, but surely not far from the kingdom of 
 Him who gave the great commandment, “Whatsoever ye would 
 that men should do unto you, even so do ye also unto them,” and, “I 
 was sick and ye visited me.” “Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as 
 ye did it unto one of these my brethren, even these least, ye have 
 done it unto me.” 
 
 I must not forget to record here another important step in the 
 growth of the An Ju Church, which occurred at the time of this 
 visit: the signal conversion of Chun-si, foster si iter of Choi-si, 
 who gave her home to help buy the new church building. These 
 two women had been widows for many years, living together as 
 sisters, highly respected in the community. 
 
 When Choi-si became a Christian and Chun-si refused to 
 believe, it happened according to the words of the Master that a 
 sword entered in. Chun-si not only refused to believe herself; 
 but opposed Choi-si having anything to do with “the people of 
 Jesus.” For thirty years the two had lived one life. Now Choi-si 
 entered a new world of belief and friends where Chun-si was left 
 out. Loneliness and grief and bitter hatred of the Christians 
 filled her heart. She became so violent a persecutor that possibly 
 a desire to escape may have influenced Choi-si in her gift to the 
 church, inasmuch as it was provided that she should occupy one 
 •of the rooms as keeper of the building. 
 
 If she sought to escape, she failed. Chun-si packed her goods 
 and moved into the church with Choi-si. Here was a nice situation, 
 an enemy in the camp, a heathen woman and a persecutor, so 
 bitter that the sound of singing and of prayer drove her into a 
 perfect frenzy. The An Ju Christians seemed helpless. Nobody 
 cared to carry the old woman into the street to scream and tear 
 her hair and throw the city into an uproar. Their only hope lay 
 in the strong hand of the missionary. I sent Chun-si word to 
 quiet down or leave the church and for a time she behaved a little 
 better; but when our woman’s Bible class began, the Devil seem- 
 ingly entered into her to break up the meeting. She abused all 
 
35 
 
 who came and cursed and swore so that the younger women were 
 frightened away. 
 
 It was high time to act, regardless of consequences. I called 
 Chun-si out and told her she must go. I was sorry; but she had 
 behaved so outrageously that she would have to leave, and leave 
 immediately. “Very well,” she said, “I’ll go,” and in a perfect 
 storm of anger, she rushed into the church, grabbed here and there 
 for her belongings, bound them into a bundle, and tore out of the 
 church, pouring out threats and imprecations upon all of us. That 
 night we had peace. The next morning while the women were 
 having prayers the door suddenly opened and Chun-si rushed in 
 and threw herself on the floor in an attitude of prayer, exclaiming, 
 “Kedo-hapsata” (‘‘Let’s pray”). Everybody was nonplussed. 
 Was the old woman pretending, or had contrition overtaken her 
 at last? She had to repeat her request several times before any- 
 one offered to pray. 
 
 Chun-si rose up from that prayer absolutely a changed woman. 
 In fact, the change came in the night, when, as she told us, alone 
 and in a strange place Jesus came to her and opened her eyes. 
 She sat through that class a repentant woman and an eager learner. 
 What a miracle! She who once hated the very name of Jesus 
 came over night to love Him with a great love. The transforma- 
 tion of her face was beautiful to see. I had known her before a 
 hard-visaged, hateful, blaspheming woman. Now all the hard 
 lines were gone, driven out by the great peace and love that came 
 to her self-tortured soul. Would that I could paint the two faces 
 as they live in my memory! No better apologetic could be found 
 for foreign missions. 
 
 The two sisters now went forth, hand in hand, to preach the 
 Gospel to their friends in An Ju, and Chun-si soon became the 
 greater power of the two. It was said of her, as of Saul of Tarsus, 
 “Is not this she who made havoc of them that called on this name?” 
 Scores of men and women were converted. The Christians were 
 no longer in confusion; but meeting together “with gladness and 
 singleness of heart. Praising God and having favor with all the 
 people. And the Lord added to them day by day those that were 
 saved.” 
 
 In due course of time, Chun-si became a catechumen, and 
 after the usual year’s instruction, was baptized, my hand sprinkling 
 the baptismal water on the bowed gray head, and in my heart a 
 profound sense of God’s grace and presence. 
 
 Another year went by and once more Mrs. Blair and I visited 
 An Ju together. The church was crowded for communion service 
 
36 
 
 on Sunday, but Chun-si was not there. She lay in a room not far 
 away, listening to the singing, but unable to enter. After the 
 service, Mrs. Blair and I, with the officers and one or two old 
 women, went to Chun-si’s side and held a short service of song 
 and prayer and I administered the communion. “No,” she said, 
 “I am not afraid to die, but very tired and long to be with Jesus.” 
 We never saw her again. Only a few days later God called her 
 home with a song of praise on her dying lips, gloriously triumphant. 
 
 One other circumstance added greatly to the success of the 
 An Ju Church. A territorial division was finally arranged with 
 the Methodists whereby they took all the territory northwest of 
 An Ju and turned over their work in An Ju to us. We have now 
 but one Church of Christ in An Ju, a Presbyterian Church under 
 the Korean Presbytery; but in reality a union church. At first 
 the Methodist Christians objected to the union, being prejudiced 
 against us just as our people had been against them; but Mr. 
 Morris, the Methodist missionary in charge at An Ju, soon showed 
 them that it was necessary for the good of the whole church. Soon 
 all differences dropped out. Both congregations were surprised 
 to find what splendid Christians some of the men they had doubted 
 before really were. At last we were in a position to know and 
 love one another as true brethren. And God set His seal unmis- 
 takably upon the union. The An Ju Church is today the strongest 
 church in my territory. We have a boys’ school with two teachers 
 and a girls’ school and a church of nearly four hundred. 
 
 The winter before we left Korea on furlough, plans were 
 begun for a new church in An Ju, to be built on the hillside over- 
 looking the city. Timber was purchased on a mountainside twen- 
 ty miles away, cut down and hauled over the snow to An Ju. 
 When spring came, business halted while the foundation was being 
 laid and the big timbers squared for raising. Much of the work 
 had to be done by paid carpenters and masons; but all that un- 
 skilled hands could do was gladly done by Christians, for money is 
 scarce in Korea. Saving everywhere possible, the church would 
 cost fully 30,000 nyang, $ 1,500 in American money; but represent- 
 ing a sacrifice to them of $ 30 , 000 . Nor was it easily raised, or all 
 at one time. The congregation met time and time again to pledge 
 the money. All gave what money they could, some gave their 
 fields, others grain or merchandise, women gave their jewelry, and 
 it was done. 
 
 Finally the frame was up, looming like a cathedral above the 
 city, built to seat six hundred and high enough to permit enlarge- 
 ment to seat twelve hundred. I went to An Ju on a visit of in- 
 
37 
 
 spection and crawled all over the building with the building com- 
 mittee to see if the trusses were sufficiently strong, all of us happy 
 as children. One thing troubled us. The contractor who had 
 promised to furnish the tile went back on his bargain. The rainy 
 season was drawing near and our building uncovered. Letter 
 after letter reached me after I had returned to Pyeng Yang, telling 
 of their anxiety, and asking me to ship tile from Pyeng Yang. I 
 found this quite impossible. One day a letter came saying, never 
 mind, that God had sent them the tile. Where do you suppose 
 the tile came from? I mentioned the spirit-shrines clustered 
 under the willow trees on the wall surrounding the city. The 
 magistrate of An Ju sent word that if the Christians wanted tile 
 badly, he would sell them all these shrines as they were no longer 
 used by the people, and for a price he sold the church the whole 
 
 and lifted the 
 them on their 
 house of God; 
 objecting. 
 
 collection, and the Christians went up in crowds 
 tiles from the roofs of the devil-houses, carrying 
 backs through the city, and set them high on the 
 greatly rejoicing, and all the city looked on, no one 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 The Church's Testing 
 
 Enough has been given in the foregoing chapters to show the 
 character of the Korean Church. There is no overstating the 
 zeal of the Korean Christians, their enthusiasm in witnessing, their 
 generosity in giving, their delight in prayer and the study of God’s 
 Word. It is a mistake, however, to suppose that there have been 
 no difficulties to overcome, no problems, nor times of testing. The 
 Far East is in a ferment. Two great wars that have shaken the 
 nations and changed the course of history have focused in Korea 
 during the short period of the Church’s history. Nothing but the 
 guiding presence of the Lord’s Spirit has brought the Church in 
 safety to this hour. Nothing but the Spirit of the Lord poured 
 forth from heaven in Pentecostal power could have saved the 
 Church at the time of its great testing. 
 
 The critical time to which we allude came with the establish- 
 ing of the independent Korean Church in 1907. It has never been 
 the thought or desire of the missionaries of our church or of our 
 Board of Foreign Missions that the churches established in foreign 
 lands should be permanently under the direction and control of 
 the American Church; but that just as soon as it seemed wise to 
 do so, independent churches should be established in the different 
 countries, which should be encouraged to assume the full burden 
 and responsibility of evangelizing their own lands. 
 
 The Korean Church, outside the salary and expense of the 
 American missionaries and assistance given our hospitals and a 
 few high schools, has been practically self-supporting for years. 
 We had ordained elders in many churches. Most of the direction 
 of local affairs had already passed into Korean hands. Looking 
 forward to the time when the Theological Seminary should grad- 
 uate its first class into the ministry in 1907, the date of establish- 
 ment of the Korean Presbyterian Church was set for that year. 
 Including one elder from each organized church, the first Presby- 
 tery would have more Korean voting members than foreign mis- 
 sionaries, and the control and destiny of the Church would hence- 
 forth be absolutely in their hands. Of course, that was just what 
 we wanted. We wanted a Korean church, not an American church. 
 
39 
 
 Nevertheless, we knew there was danger in thus intrusting power 
 to untried hands. We were not ignorant of the experiences of oilr 
 brethren in other lands. Nor were prophets of disaster wanting. 
 Yet herein lies faith’s victory. We had confidence in our Korean 
 brethren. We knew the marvelous development of the church 
 was the work of God and not of man. So we made our plans for 
 1907. Announcements were out beyond the possibility of change 
 or recall when the whirlwind of the Japanese-Russian War swept 
 over the country and changed the face of everything. 
 
 Japan won and Korea went to the victor. It was easy for 
 Japan because she already held Korea. The Koreans had sub- 
 mitted without resistance to the military occupation of their penin- 
 sula by Japan, regarding it as a military necessity. Suddenly 
 Korea awoke with a start. The war was over and Japan still in 
 Korea with no intention of withdrawal. She saw herself stripped 
 of her dignity as an independent nation and was humiliated beyond 
 measure by the return of her foreign envoys, and the careless 
 indifference, even contempt of foreign nations. 
 
 In a day, what centuries of misrule on the part of her own 
 rulers had failed to do, Japanese occupancy accomplished: patriot- 
 ism was born in Korea. A wave of intense national feeling swept 
 over the land. “Korea for the Koreans,” and, “It is better to die 
 than to be slaves” were heard on every hand. Unable to resist 
 the Japanese openly, secret meetings were held throughout the 
 country. Many fled to the mountains taking the name of “we 
 pyung,” or “righteous army,” and waged guerrilla warfare on the 
 Japanese. It is still dangerous for a Japanese citizen to travel 
 alone far from the fortified cities. 
 
 Naturally there arose a call for every man to declare himself 
 for or against the Japanese. All eyes were turned upon the Chris- 
 tian Church. Many Koreans saw in the Church the only hope 
 for their country. There is no denying the intense loyalty of the 
 Korean Church. Christianity gives men backbones. There 
 were not lacking many hotheads in the Church itself who thought 
 the Church ought to enter the fight. The country wanted a leader 
 and the Christian Church was the strongest, most influential single 
 organization in Korea. Had she departed even a little from the 
 strict principle of non-interference in politics, thousands would 
 have welcomed her leadership and flocked to her banner. We 
 might have again witnessed the cross of Constantine leading a 
 great army. I believe Korea, like the Roman Empire, would 
 have adopted Christianity in a day, and I believe, too, we would 
 have had another Roman Church. 
 
40 
 
 It took high courage, coupled with wisdom and great love to 
 lead the Church aright, to stand up before men burning with indig- 
 nation at their nation’s loss and preach the doctrine of love and 
 forbearance, and forgiveness even of enemies. Yet this is just 
 vthat the missionaries and our best Korean leaders did. Thank 
 God, the Church, as a whole, wonderfully taught of the Spirit, 
 received our teachings as the word of God. But some were dis- 
 obedient. Everywhere there was an element that turned its face 
 away. Efforts were made to undermine the influence of the 
 missionaries and church officers who advised submission. Some 
 of the Korean leaders were openly called traitors, some had their 
 lives threatened. 
 
 About this time, too, there returned to Korea a number of 
 young men who had been in America long enough to get the “big 
 head.’’ Most of them professed to be Christians, but their Chris- 
 tianity consisted more of a desire to free their country, and of 
 personal ambition than of a sincere acceptance of Christ and a 
 desire to do His will. These young men made us much trouble. 
 They told stories, all too true, we were forced to admit, of the 
 prevalence of immorality, of drunkness and ungodliness in Amer- 
 ica. “What right had these Americans, these foreigners, to lead 
 the Church any way!” Some went to the length of saying that 
 the Americans more than the Japanese were responsible for the 
 unfortunate condition of Korea. At different times mobs arose 
 and broke up our meetings. Those who were responsible for such 
 disturbances were never numerous; but a few men can make a 
 deal of noise. When men’s hearts are wrung, a dozen wild-eyed 
 agitators can do no end of damage. 
 
 The Koreans had long looked upon America as their special 
 friend. Our minister, Dr. Allen, enjoyed the confidence and 
 esteem of the King and all the people. Great was the disap- 
 pointment everywhere when the United States, following England’s 
 example, hastened to recognize Japan’s control. A violent anti- 
 foreign, especially anti-American, storm swept over the land. We 
 bowed our heads, not to the storm, but to God in prayer. And 
 you let men get all mixed up in their minds, let some of them get 
 deadly hatred in their hearts towards those whom they regard as 
 oppressors, let some of them grow cold toward their leaders and 
 the message of love and forgiveness unwelcome, and you have a 
 condition the Devil knows how to use. It is impossible to long 
 live up to the high standards of the Christian life in a heathen land 
 without the Spirit’s presence. Men with hatred in their hearts 
 simply lost God’s help and fell easy victims to temptation. We 
 
41 
 
 were grieved again and again by the falling into sin of men we had 
 trusted. 
 
 Have I made the situation plain? We were about to turn 
 over the authority of our Church to Korean hands, to establish 
 an independent Korean Church. Suddenly we found ourselves 
 in the dangerous situation described. How could we take so 
 critical a step at such a time? Yet we had to do what we had 
 promised to do or break faith with our Korean brethren. So it 
 was that God compelled us to look to Him. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 The Pyeng Yang Class 
 
 In August of 1906, we missionaries of Pyeng Yang, both Pres- 
 byterian and Methodist, realizing the gravity of the situation, met 
 together for one week of Bible study and prayer. Dr. Hardy, of 
 Won San, whom God has greatly blessed, came to Pyeng Yang 
 to lead us. The First Epistle of John, which came to be our text- 
 book during the revival, was selected for special study. How often 
 God’s Word seems written for special occasions! We were seeking 
 help in time of need. The Apostle John assured us that everything 
 depended upon fellowship with God, and that Divine fellowship 
 was conditioned upon love and righteousness. He who searches 
 the deep things of the heart took the Epistle and made it a living, 
 personal message. “God is love and he that abideth in love, 
 abideth in God and God in him.” 
 
 We had reached a place where we dared not go forward with- 
 out God’s presence. Very earnestly we poured out our hearts 
 before Him, searching our hearts and seeking to meet the condi- 
 tions. God heard us and gave us an earnest that week of what 
 was to come. Before the meetings closed the Spirit showed us 
 plainly that the way of victory for us would be a way of confession, 
 of broken hearts and bitter tears. 
 
 We went out of those August meetings realizing as never 
 before that nothing but the baptism of God’s Spirit in mighty 
 power, could fit us and our Korean brethren for the trying days 
 ahead. We felt that the Korean Church needed not only to re- 
 pent of hating the Japanese, but a clearer vision of all sin against 
 God, that many had come into the Church sincerely believing in 
 Jesus as their Saviour and anxious to do God’s will without great 
 sorrow for sin because of its familiarity. We felt that the whole 
 Church needed a vision of God’s holiness to become holy, that 
 embittered souls needed to have their thoughts taken away from 
 the national situation to their own personal relation with the 
 Master. We agreed together at that time to pray for a great 
 blessing upon our Korean brethren, especially at the time of the 
 winter Bible-study classes for men in Pyeng Yang. 
 
 The Bible-study class system is a special feature of the Korean 
 
43 
 
 work. Each Church appoints a week or longer some time during 
 the year for Bible study. All work is laid aside. Almost as the 
 Jews kept the Passover the Korean Christians keep these days 
 sacred to prayer and the study of God’s Word. The result of 
 such uninterrupted Bible study is inevitably a quickening of the 
 entire Church, a true revival of love and service. Let America 
 follow Korea’s example in this one thing and the revival problem 
 will take care of itself. 
 
 Besides the classes held in each church and numerous county 
 and circuit classes, each Station has one or more general classes 
 where representatives from all the churches assemble in the center 
 where the missionaries live, and spend from ten days to two weeks 
 in Bible study and conferences. The Pyeng Yang General Class 
 for men is usually held the first two weeks in January, the attend- 
 ance averaging for years between eight hundred and a thousand. 
 Most of these men walk to Pyeng Yang distances varying from 
 ten to one hundred miles. All come at their own expense and pay 
 a small tuition to defray the expenses of the class. The attendance 
 from the country is so large that local Pyeng Yang Christians are 
 barred to make room for the visitors, a special class being held for 
 Pyeng Yang merchants in February. 
 
 The General Class is divided into eight sections, each having, 
 besides the morning devotional period and the half hour of singing, 
 three full hours of Bible study under different missionaries and 
 Korean teachers. At night a mass meeting for men is held at the 
 Central Church; women are excluded for lack of room. 
 
 These Station Classes give invaluable opportunity to inspire 
 and direct and unite the whole Church in its faith and life. The 
 strongest men from all the churches are here. A new song taught 
 in the Station Class will soon be sung all over the district. Every 
 new thought and conviction sown here bears fruit in all the 
 churches. This is why we prayed especially for the Pyeng Yang 
 Bible Class. 
 
 The fall of 1906 was largely given up to country itineration. 
 No special meetings could be held except a few evenings in the 
 Central Church at Pyeng Yang at the time of Dr. Howard Agnew 
 Johnson’s visit immediately after Annual Meeting in September. 
 Dr. Johnson told the Korean Christians about the blessings re- 
 ceived in India and left a hunger in many hearts for similar mani- 
 festations of God’s grace among us. 
 
 Christmas came and our scattered force assembled in Pyeng 
 Yang to share the season’s joys together. Usually we spend the 
 week between Christmas and New Years getting acquainted with 
 
-14 
 
 our families again, resting in preparation for the busy days before 
 us of the Bible Class season. Frequently, the whole community 
 will meet for a social evening, having the best time imaginable. 
 That winter we had no heart for social gatherings. Prayer-meet- 
 ings were held each evening. Methodists and Presbyterians again 
 uniting, praying definitely for the Presbyterian Class about to 
 assemble and for the Methodist General Class to be held later. 
 When the Presbyterian Class began on January second, the even- 
 ing prayer-meetings had to be discontinued; but so strong was our 
 desire to pray that although most of the Methodist men had to go 
 to the country, we decided to hold noon prayer-meetings daily 
 during the class for those who could attend. As Mr. Lee says in 
 his brief account of “How the Spirit Came to Pyeng Yang,” “These 
 noon prayer-meetings were a very Bethel to us.” 
 
 The evening meetings connected with the class began January 
 sixth in the Central Church with more than fifteen hundred men 
 present. Different Missionaries and Korean pastors led these 
 meetings, all seeking to show the need of the Spirit’s presence and 
 the necessity of love and righteousness. The meetings were in- 
 tensely interesting as meetings in times of crises always are. Noth- 
 ing unusual happened. We were not looking for anything unusual. 
 Only a hushed, solemn sea of upturned faces and eagerness to lead 
 in prayer showed how the Spirit was working. 
 
 Saturday night I preached on First Corinthians, twelve, 
 twenty-seven, “Now ye are the body of Christ, and severally 
 members thereof,” endeavoring to show that discord in the Church 
 was like sickness in the body, “and whether one member suffereth 
 all the members suffer with it,” striving to show how hate in a 
 brother’s heart injured not only the whole Church but brought 
 pain to Christ, the Church’s Head. Shortly after going to Korea, 
 I had an accident while hunting and shot off the end of one of my 
 fingers. All the Koreans knew of this. Holding out my hand, I 
 told the congregation how my head ached and my whole body 
 suffered with the injured finger. The idea seemed to go home to 
 them. After the sermon many testified to a new realization of 
 what sin was. A number with sorrow confessed lack of love for 
 others, especially for the Japanese. 
 
 We went home that night confident that our prayers were 
 being answered. Sunday night we had a strange experience. 
 There was no life in the meeting. The church was crowded as 
 usual, but something seemed to block everything. After the 
 sermon a few formal prayers were offered and we went home weary 
 as from a physical contest, conscious that the Devil had been 
 present, apparentlv victorious. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 The Korean Pentecost 
 
 Monday noon, we missionaries met and cried out to God in 
 earnest. We were bound in spirit and refused to let God go till 
 He blessed us. That night it was very different. Each felt as he 
 entered the church that the room was full of God’s presence. Not 
 only missionaries but Koreans testify to the same thing. I w r as 
 present once in Wisconsin when the Spirit of God fell upon a com- 
 pany of lumbermen and every unbeliever in the room rose to ask 
 for prayers. That night in Pyeng Yang, the same feeling came to 
 me as I entered the room, a feeling of God’s nearness, impossible 
 of description. 
 
 After a short sermon, Mr. Lee took charge of the meeting and 
 called for prayers. So many began praying that Mr. Lee said, 
 “If you want to pray like that, all pray,” and the whole audience 
 began to pray out loud r all together. The effect was indescribable. 
 Not confusion, but a vast harmony of sound and spirit, a mingling 
 together of souls moved by an irresistible impulse of prayer. The 
 prayer sounded to me like the falling of many waters, an ocean of 
 prayer beating against God’s throne. It was not many, but one, 
 born of one Spirit, lifted to one Father above. Just as on the day 
 of Pentecost, they were all together in one place, of one accord 
 praying, “and suddenly there came from heaven the sound as of 
 the rushing of a mighty wind, and it filled all the house where 
 they were sitting.” God is not always in the whirlwind, neither 
 does He always speak in a still small voice. He came to us in 
 Pyeng Yang that night w T ith the sound of weeping. As the prayer 
 continued, a spirit of heaviness and sorrow for sin came down 
 upon the audience. Over on one side, someone began to weep, 
 and in a moment the whole audience was weeping. 
 
 Mr. Lee’s account, written at the time of the revival, gives 
 the history of that night better than any words, however carefully 
 penned three years later, can do. “Man after man would rise, 
 confess his sins, break down and weep, and then throw himself to 
 the floor and beat the floor with his fists in perfect agony of con- 
 viction. My own cook tried to make a confession, broke down in 
 the midst of it, and cried to me across the room: ‘Pastor, tell me, 
 
46 
 
 is there any hope for me, can I be forgiven?’ and then he threw 
 himself to the floor and wept and wept, and almost screamed in 
 agony. Sometimes after a confession, the whole audience would 
 break out in audible prayer, and the effect of that audience of 
 hundreds of men praying together in audible prayer was something 
 indescribable. Again, after another confession, they would break 
 out in uncontrollable weeping, and we would all w^eep, we couldn’t 
 help it. And so the meeting went on until two o’clock a. m., wdth 
 confession and weeping and praying.” 
 
 Only a few of the missionaries were present Monday night. 
 Tuesday morning, Mr. Lee and I w’ent from house to house telling 
 the good news to all wdio were absent, and to our Methodist friends 
 in the city. That noon the whole foreign community assembled 
 to render thanks to God. 
 
 I wish to describe the Tuesday night meeting in my own lan- 
 guage because a part of what happened concerned me personally. 
 We were aware that bad feeling existed between several of our 
 church officers, especially between a Mr. Kang and Mr. Kim. 
 Mr. Kang confessed his hatred for Mr. Kim Monday night, but 
 Mr. Kim was silent. At our noon prayer-meeting Tuesday, several 
 of us agreed to pray for Mr. Kim. I was especially interested 
 because Mr. Kang was my assistant in the North Pyeng Yang 
 Church and Mr. Kim an elder in the Central Church and Pne of 
 the officers in the Pyeng Yang Men’s Association, of which I was 
 chairman. As the meeting progressed, I could see Mr. Kim sitting 
 with the elders back of the pulpit wdth his head down. Bowing 
 where I sat I asked God to help him and looking up I saw him 
 coming forward. 
 
 Holding to the pulpit, he made his confession. “I have been 
 guilty of fighting against God. An elder in the church, I have 
 been guilty of hating not only Kang You -moon, but Pang Mok-sa.” 
 Pang Mok-sa is my Korean name. I never had a greater surprise 
 in my life. To think that this man, my associate in the Men’s 
 Association, had been hating me without my knowing it. It 
 seems that I had said something to him one day in the hurry of 
 managing a school field-day exercise wffiich gave offense, and he 
 had not been able to forgive me. Turning to me, he said, “Can 
 you forgive me, can you pray for me?” I stood up and began to 
 pray, “Apa-ge, Apa-ge” (“Father, Father,”) and got no further. 
 It seemed as if the roof was lifted from the building and the Spirit 
 of God came down from heaven in a mighty avalanche of power 
 upon us. I fell at Kim’s side and wept and prayed as I had never 
 prayed before. My last glimpse of the audience is photographed 
 
47 
 
 indelibly on my brain. Some threw themselves full length upon 
 the floor, hundreds stood with arms outstretched toward heaven. 
 Every man forgot every other. Each was face to face with God. 
 I can hear yet that fearful sound of hundreds of men pleading with 
 God for life, for mercy. The cry went out over the city till the 
 heathen were in consternation. 
 
 As soon as we were able, we missionaries gathered at the 
 platform and consulted, “What shall we do? If we let them go on 
 like this some will go crazy.” Yet we dared not interfere. We 
 had prayed to God for an outpouring of His Spirit upon the people 
 and it had come. Separating, we went down and tried to comfort 
 the most distressed, pulling the agonized man to the floor and 
 saying, “Never mind, brother, if you have sinned God will forgive 
 you. Wait and an opportunity will be given to speak.” 
 
 Finally, Mr. Lee started a hymn and quiet was restored during 
 the singing. Then began a meeting the like of which I had never 
 seen before, nor wish to see again unless in God’s sight it is abso- 
 lutely necessary. Every sin a human being can commit was 
 publicly confessed that night. Pale and trembling with emotion, 
 in agony of mind and body, guilty souls, standing in the white light 
 of that judgment, saw themselves as God saw them. Their sins 
 rose up in all their vileness, till shame and grief and self-loathing 
 took complete possession; pride was driven out, the face of man 
 forgotten. Looking up to heaven, to Jesus whom they had be- 
 trayed, they smote themselves and cried out with bitter wailing: 
 “Lord, Lord, cast us not away forever!” Everything else was 
 forgotten, nothing else mattered. The scorn of men, the penalty 
 of the law, even death itself seemed of small consequence if only 
 God forgave. We may have our theories of the desirability or 
 undesirability of public confession of sin. I have had mine; but 
 I know now that when the Spirit of God falls upon guilty souls, 
 there will be confession, and no power on earth can stop it. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 The Results 
 
 The Pyeng Yang Class ended with the meeting Tuesday night. 
 The Christians returned to their homes in the country taking the 
 Pentecostal fire with them. Everywhere the story was told the 
 same Spirit flamed forth and spread till practically every church, 
 not only in North Korea, but throughout the entire peninsula had 
 received its share of the blessing. In Pyeng Yang, special meet- 
 ings were held in the various churches for more than a month. 
 Even the schools had to lay aside lessons for days while the chil- 
 dren wept out their wrongdoings together. 
 
 Repentance was by no means confined to confession and tears. 
 Peace waited upon reparation, wherever reparation was possible. 
 We had our hearts torn again and again during those days by the 
 return of little articles and money that had been stolen from us 
 during the years. It hurt so to see them grieve. All through the 
 city men were going from house to house, confessing to individuals 
 they had injured, returning stolen property and money, not only 
 to Christians but to heathen as well, till the whole city was stirred. 
 A Chinese merchant was astonished to have a Christian walk in 
 and pay him a large sum of money that he had obtained unjustly 
 years before. 
 
 Just as soon as possible, I went to the country to look after 
 my country churches. Everywhere I found the people already 
 prepared, praying for the Spirit's blessing and not once did He 
 disappoint us. God seemed anxious that not one weak group nor 
 one small child should miss the blessing. I remember two small 
 boys, both nine years old, the only believers in their families, who 
 came forward during the meeting at Yung You, and wept griev- 
 ously over their sins. After the meeting, they made me promise 
 to pray daily for their unbelieving parents. Two years later I 
 met the boys again. One brought his younger brother who had 
 become a Christian with him and told me that his father had prom- 
 ised to become a Christian. The other stood just behind and said, 
 “My father is already a Christian,” the happiest, proudest boy 
 imaginable. 
 
 One of my churches, Nam San Moru, was very weak and in a 
 
49 
 
 discouraged condition. The hour this church wept its sins out 
 before God was an hour of new birth and power. Today, it is one 
 of my strongest churches, with a congregation of three hundred. 
 One afternoon during those long-to-be-remembered days, I found 
 I could not keep an appointment to preach at So Kam, a gold- 
 mining camp where we had a few weak followers. Securing a 
 horse, I rode to the church where the few Christians were assembled 
 and told them that I must go back to the city at once, that I would 
 only wait to lead them in prayer. I had scarcely started to pray, 
 when the same Spirit of sorrow for sin fell upon that company of 
 miners, some of them men who had lived hardened lives of sin 
 before believing. I left them weeping together. That hour was 
 also the beginning of new life and power for So Kam. They have 
 recently built a fine new church that will seat over three hundred. 
 
 Some strenuous scenes were witnessed during the revival. 
 At Yung You, where Mr. Lee and I held a class for one week in 
 February of that year, I saw a man arise and confess that he had 
 killed a man in a valley not far from the church, and fall uncon- 
 scious before the pulpit so that we had to work over him to bring 
 him to. Such sins cannot be confessed without the whole nature 
 being torn as with a death struggle. It is remarkable, considering 
 the intensity and wide extent of the revival, that no serious effects 
 were reported. The result was everywhere wholesome, except 
 where men deliberately resisted or sought to deceive the Spirit 
 and their brethren. At first, we were greatly troubled lest in the 
 excitement insincere confessions, perhaps from wrong motive 
 might be made; but we soon found we could trust our people with 
 God. Sometimes a man would get up and make only partial 
 confession of his wrongdoings, holding back the part he was really 
 ashamed of; but the next night would find him back, pale and 
 tortured, ready to rise at the first opportunity and confess his 
 double sin in hiding his great sin the night before. Once the 
 Spirit convicted a man, he seemed to get no rest day nor night 
 till he had unburdened his heart to the church and done what he 
 could to repair the injury. Only in a few cases, where men guilty 
 of sins which they refused to confess in spite of overwhelming 
 conviction which made them writhe on their faces, was injury 
 experienced. God waited long and seemed to put forth all His 
 Divine power to save such; but in the end, if they continued to 
 refuse His pleadings, He turned from them and cast them out. 
 Sooner or later the sin would be uncovered and the church learn 
 just why it was that the brother had failed to find help and peace. 
 
 One of my helpers, the man named Kang, referred to as having 
 
50 
 
 been at enemity with Mr. Kim, had a terrible experience. Night 
 after night, he would be under conviction, never finding peace. 
 After the revival was over, he gradually lost interest and we had 
 to remove him from office. Finally, lie ceased coming and avoided 
 me. A full year later, the confession of a woman proved this man 
 Kang to have been guilty of immorality while he was a church 
 officer. He refused to confess, resisting the Spirit to the end, and 
 God had to let him go. Kang went from worse to worse, and 
 finally became the keeper of a brothel in the city. Only a few 
 months ago, word reached me that he had attempted to end his 
 wretched life by taking opium. 
 
 Outside of a few cases like Kang’s, the effect of the revival 
 upon the Church was exceedingly helpful and uplifting. The 
 whole Church was washed and made clean and sweet and new. 
 When we met to organize our Independent Korean Church that 
 fall, not a word was heard about fighting, only a great desire to 
 pray and to preach the Gospel as soon as possible to all Korea and, 
 if God wills, to China and Japan. That first meeting of the new 
 Korean Church was really a foreign missionary meeting. A 
 Board of Foreign Missions was organized. The Presbytery laid 
 its hands upon one of the first seven men to be ordained to the 
 Gospel ministry, the most gifted man in the class, Xe Ke-pung, 
 and sent him as a foreign missionary to the Island of Quelpart, 
 south of Korea. The missionary spirit has taken possession of the 
 whole Church, especially of the young men in the College. Last 
 year the Pyeng Yang College and Academy students raised enough 
 money to send one of their own number, Kim Ilyung-cha, to Quel- 
 part to help Ne Ke-pung. Kim Hyung-cha is one of our most 
 promising young men. He would have graduated from college 
 last year; but we had to hold up the graduating class for one year 
 on account of insufficient teaching force. He was spending the 
 year helping me in my office and teaching certain classes in the 
 College. The committee met and elected Kim Hyung-cha to go 
 to Quelpart without his knowledge. I was sent to see him about 
 the matter and found him sick, lying on the floor at his home. I 
 put my hand on his head. He was too feverish to talk so I simply 
 said, “Hyung-cha, the Missionary Committee met today and 
 elected you to go to Quelpart, will you go? Don’t tell me now; 
 think it over and tell me tomorrow.” He told me later that he 
 turned his face to the wall and fought the battle of his life. His 
 salary as a missionary would only be a little over half what he was 
 then receiving, besides he was enjoying special opportunities con- 
 nected with his work in the college, for music and language study. 
 
51 
 
 But the call conquered. The next day in answer to my question, 
 he said, “I’ll go.” He did go, and how the boys prayed for him 
 all the year! 
 
 Last year another ordained man was sent by the Korean 
 Church to Vladivostok in Russia, to preach to the thousands of 
 Koreans who have settled in that section. The Mission Commit- 
 tee is planning to send men into China proper and a number of 
 young men in the college have expressed a desire to go. 
 
 Who can tell what the end will be? The so-called “Million 
 Movement,” now going on in Korea is only the natural result of a 
 Spirit-filled, Spirit-quickened Church. The Korean Christians 
 are resolved to preach the Gospel to every man, woman and child 
 if possible this year. An amount of time to be given to house-to- 
 house preaching aggregating over seventy thousand days has al- 
 ready been pledged by individual Christians. A special effort is 
 being made to place a copy of one of the Gospels in every home. 
 The Bible Society is printing a special edition of 1,000,000 copies 
 of Mark’s Gospel to be used in the great campaign. Already this 
 year 700,000 copies have been sold. 
 
 Truly the time foretold has come. A nation is being born in 
 a day. May God grant that the glorious ingathering may go on 
 till not only Korea, but Japan and China, and all the nations that 
 have so long lain in darkness and the shadow of death shall be 
 joined to His Kingdom, and may God grant to us here in America 
 an equal portion of His Spirit. 
 
 FINIS