The best he could get was
a small craft quite open, only twelve feet long. It was not a
very fine vessel with which to brave the Pacific Ocean, but where
was the crazy craft in which Kai Bok-su would not embark to go
and tell the gospel to the heathen? The boat was manned by six
Pe-po-hoan rowers, all Christians, and at five o'clock in the
evening they pushed out into the surf of So Bay. A crowd of
converts came down to the shore to bid them farewell. As the boat
shoved off the friends on the beach started a hymn. The rowers
and the missionaries caught it up and the two groups joined, the
sound of each growing fainter and fainter to the other as the
distance widened.
All lands to God in joyful sounds
Aloft your voices raise,
Sing forth the honor of his name,
And glorious make his praise!
And the land and the sea, answering each other, joined in praise
to him who was the Maker of both.
And so the rowers pulled away in time to the swing of the Psalm,
the boat rounded a point, and the beloved figure of Kai Bok-su
disappeared from sight.
Away down the coast the oarsmen pulled, and the four missionaries
squeezed themselves into as small a space as possible to be out
of the way of the oars.
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