It was always hard to say farewell to Kap-tsu-lan, the people
were so warm-hearted, so kind, and so anxious for him to stay.
One morning just before leaving after his third visit, Mackay had
an experience that brought him the greatest joy.
He had stayed all night at the little fishing village where the
first chapel had been built. As usual he was up with the dawn,
and after his breakfast of cold boiled rice and pork he walked
down to the shore for a farewell look at the village. As he
passed along the little crooked street he could see old women
sitting on the mud floors of their huts, by the open door,
weaving. They were all poor, wrinkled, toothless old folk with
faces seamed by years of hard heathen experience. But in their
eyes shone a new light, the reflection of the glory that they had
seen when the missionary showed them Jesus their Savior. And as
they threw their thread their quavering voices crooned the sweet
words:
There is a happy land
Far, far away.
And their old weary faces were lighted up with a hope and
happiness that had never been there in youth.
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