EARLY CHRISTIANITY IN N.Z.

NZ Truth, Issue 604, 13 January 1917, Page 3

EARLY CHRISTIANITY IN N.Z.

Samuel MarsdeiTs Successors m the Mission Field Gkawl from Maiy Sowces uri Aatbertie lUcor*— lßl4-1852 Facts ami B§ur»«, Compiled by J. M. F»rdo. Book 6.— QM#tor 26 (Continued) y ■ ■ ■•. •,'■ • / -\f : : .. ■ .-:■'••- •■•:.•-■ ' .-' ;• ■••.■, „ ■■■■■ . : ■ : .. : -^- yr • ■ .' Blahop Belwyn on the Trouble* of Mother Church— The "Turmoil of Wellington." , '. .■..■'■. ■;. ' ; .■-.- ; . ' ' ; ' ;

• "At Waimate/ m the common dinlnchaH, -where , the whole communion forming the episcopal household, con--fisting of the Bishop himself m his : academic robes,; his chaplains, the stu^ dents m their gowns; a. missionary out bf health, with all the ladies of th« party, and the '■ servants at another table, dined Uogether, , I was, with a young man of>my own age, my companion, a welcomed guest for a month. And during/ the two years that follow-: ed I fell ,'. m with the missionary Bishop m differerit^parts of the cotm-> jliry, 'm Jourrieyings often.' ; . ■■- "One •uch appearance lives with especial vividness mmy memory. A disturbance had broken out ,m the neighborhood of Auckland, then, th^ capital of the province; and fearing this would, lead : to a conflict between the whites and the Maoris, suddenly; end with that energy and celerity which made him almost übiquitous, he appeared on the scene. We were asoembling for; morning prayer on the Sunday, when a coasting schooner cast her anchor m the harbor, and "without Waiting for , the landing of his baggage,; the Bishop stepped, Vs It were, from Ihe ship to the church. 1 can see him now as he stood by the altar In the plain black gown, which was the only, robe he had time to procure. I can hear the tones of his . voice, as he poured out his fervent expostulation, lileading for justice, for equal rights for all. Every argument, every figure, every illustration of that eermon has been one of the most powerful and abiding Influences of my life. ••Passing swiftly througn the, outworlcs of the special occasion, the preacher at once, took possession of 'hia hearers! cortsclertce, . and from that, commanding controlled the audience. And the oft-repeated refrain with which he closed each several demonstration of the censoriousness, and the haughtiness, mixed up so often without judgment of .others, and with our maintenance of our own rights, sank so deep, and imprinted Itself so Indpllbly In, my mind, that 1 have never since been ablo to condemn 4jie conduct of any man, witnout hearing In the still small voice of conscience lho3o words, 'And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man 1 ; nor; often without a clear -picture of that' church m New Zealand on that bright' Sunday morning rising before my mind's eye and the ambassador^ of Christ standing there, clothed with all, tho authority and power of his mission, and spftaklng In his Master's? nnme tho message home to my soul.

"I have been led on to recount tnese recollections by personal feeling— a feeling Indeed which I have made no effort to check, because I thought that, though more Interesting to me. tney^. would not be uninteresting to you; rors m truth he of whom I have been speaic-* Ing belongs to us all. He folt when the tidings of his death came that a prince, and a great man had fallen In Israel. His memory Ls oar common Inherit-, nnce. God grant that some portion of: 5 hia spirit may, re«t upon us; and that: In largeness bt 'hoari; In fullness of »elf. indevotelJneßS of life, wo may be Imitators of him. us he of Christ," ;

[I am unable at the .moment or writing to give tho name of the BhshopV of Quebec; the autoblographer, Btransely enough, neglects to give it, though of much historic importance/ It will bo ■■ remembered that ' In ani earlier chapter I gavo tho' disposition j of tho persons— forty- two In number— dining In the college hall. At tho up*' per. or bishops tnble, wore two vis)l« tors; one of those, without a doubt, the future Bishop of Quebec. I will 100k 1

up h!» biography, when I return to my j,N>m« und library, and pubKnh it In v jUucceetUnK chapter. ' From hi* statement, above quoted, the Bishop of Quebec m 1543 was not .travelling In Church Interests. Wfld he been, Bishop Selw^-n would have made men-, tlon of him In aomc.of his letters.] •• • •

In the midst, of these distractions and anxlctiea. it is pitiable to rend that hla

own countrymen were possessed by bitter hostility towards him, and the natives threatening .at any, ti»e to apostatise - from Christianity \ and to break out into open war, it is easy to understand how .the .Bishop longed for reinforcements, and especially from the refreshment of one mind m harmony with hia own. * Naturally, he wistfully looked to the fulfilment of the promise which Mr. Abraham had given that he would join him; but he would not hurry his departure from England until he could leave without injustice to other claims, neither would he receive him at any time under the delusions of a rose-colored expectation, and, therefore, wrote the following letter: "ELM. Colonial brig, Victoria, at sea "Off the Three Kings, North Cape, "New Zealand, November 6, 1845.. "My Dear Friend, — Being now at the first point from which I first saw the shore of New Zealand,, oh the 20th May, 1842, with hopes brighter, it is true, than I can now indulge m, yet not so full of real practical love of the country as those with which I now regard it, I cannot choose a more fitting place for beginning a letter to thank you for your cheering and steadfast letters of January 11th and May Cth, 1845, which I received shortly before my annual Journey, have sent. me again on my way rejoicing. When I tell youhow I long for the time when you will look (God willing) from shipboard upon these northern pilliors of my diocese, before you turn southward to gladden^ our hearts by your arrival at Auckland, I would not have you suppose that I wish to cut short one day which you have dedicated to other duties, but I must assure you again and again, and more earnestly as the time draws near, that the day of your coming is the bright spot m the prospect of my future life, upon which my mind's eye fixes itself \ylth Increasing pleasure, as troubles thicken around me, and friend after friend is taken away. , "Your letter of January last' has relieved my mind of a fear which I, sometimes felt, lest you should \hlnk too lightly of our state and be disappointed. Your words are, 'I can picture to myself a bard, commonplace life.' My dear friend, keep to that Idea. I should bo' deceiving you If I should lead you to think that We ha vo' achieved any of those great realities which are so bright and prominent In the true ; Bride of Church. I am but a | [novice?] with some zeal, 1 hope, for [ God's house; but BtUl ■ only, such as- to enable me to do something to sweep the outer court, and even that work sometimes porturbs and distracts me so much 1 that I doubt whether 1 shall ever enter the Holy, of Holies, after ■the -•'•first crowd 6t secular lncumbrances is, removed.. To feel the presence of the living God upon His own mercy seat; Io see the true Bhewbread upon the eternal altar; to enter upon the holiest of all with the blood of the atonement, is more than I can presume, to say that I have attained, and almost more thtin 1 can dare to hope for. And because I feel that this Inward life und power of holiness Is still so faint, I fear to delude you by a false light burning only at the; outer gate, and to tempt you to unite yourself with our unformed and Infant Church m the hope of spiritual aid, which neither she nor I are able to impart. Let me warn you that we are still rather In a negative than m a posltlvo Btate. rather avoiding what Is evil than attaining to that which is good. A very little negative of evil, unhappily, may pans for positive good where corruptions of long standing In our Mother Church lower men'a standard of judgment and make thorn praise and wonder ut mere 'reasonable service' My main hopo Is (and this Is all that 1 can dare hopo to hold out to you) that In our unlncumborod and uncompromising Church we may breathe a fr«cr air, nnd havo mure s'.nglencsu of htjart. and, therefore, moro Inward light, to seek for the thinga 'which belong unto our puuee' But do not como to u» A3 If wo had attained anything,

but pray that we may be enabled, from, our present state of fighting- without and fears within, from the turmoil of much serving, which has , more m it of Martha than of Mary, more of practice than of devotion, to press forward together to the higher crown, to the better part, to. the state of rest and contemplation, first at the feet and then at the bosom of Christ.

"I have already expressed my own feelings to Coler-idge on this subject m a letter m which I likened myself to a cardinal deacon m the Conclave of Rome. Mine is a. deacon bishopric, and I am content that it shall be so, except so f.ir as it distracts my mind from contemplation of its own state, and of the purer glories of the spiritual Church and the unseen world. To move my diocese m any perceptible degree I must multiply my own single force through a multitude of wheels and powers; alone I am powerless. Before me lies an inert mass which I am utterly unable to heave; and there is no engine ready by which I can supply the defects of my own weakness. Some of the wheels .have to be made, some newly fitted to work into others, and when all is. ready, an inpulse has to be given sufficient to disturb- the • vis inertia' of the complicated machine, after which there is hope that even a smaller, force than mine may keep it m motion. In constructing this, lam bewildered by the multitude of details, and sometimes doubt whether I am right m complicating the episcopate with all the machinery of the subordinate ministries ; and yet I 'fear that without that prevailing influence the whole, system will be powerless, not being 'compacted by that which every joint supplieth, nor holding to the head.' And then this bewilderment of minute cares causes me to lay hold less forcibly on the great head, which j Is above all, the crowd which hangs upon, me loosens my grasp upon the rock, and all fall together. This is what I am bound . most solemnly to warn you, . not to look to me -for strength to bear you up, but rather to come to me prepared to be an Aaron to stay up any feeble hands when tha very • causes which most require earnestness m prayer make me more unable to pray as I ought. These are not idle cautions, but the real feelings of my heart, known' only to my dear wife, land now disclosed >to yourself, lest I should deceive you into trusting to me for support and counsel, who need the like reinforcements from you. •'I am now on. my way to another visitation, m the course of which I have just visited Waimate and found It m a state jeven more mournful than when I first saw it Then it only showed the first symptoms of decay; now almost everything except the Church arid our own house was m utter disorder; every window broken, all ..the rooms ! filled with the filth of the soldiers) the fences destroyed; but what I missed most was the cheerful faces and bright dark eyes of the seventy little native children who greeted me with a hearty welcome on the day of the battle of Kororareka. This unhappy place seems doomed to have all its hopes of good blighted as fast as they spring up. "Believe me, yours ever affectionately, G.A., New Zealand." • ' '" • '• " ■ ■ [It was not until July, 1850, that Mr. Abraham arrived m Auckland with his wife. He was afterwards Bishop of Wellington.] (To be continued.)