This is not very distressingly Wertherian, and surely ought not, ever after, to be laid up against the young man, the fountain of whose thoughts may at that season have been unsealed by love.
But we sadly miss the truth if we infer that, because he was so matter-of-fact in his conduct, he was without tenderness of heart or depth of feeling. Dr. Goodrich in his memorial article in the “Chinese Recorder” of January, 1909, says of him:
I do not remember to have heard him preach, in English or Chinese, when his voice did not somewhere tremble and break, requiring a few moments for the strong man to conquer his emotion and proceed. His tenderness was often shown in quiet ways to the poor and unfortunate, and he frequently wept when some narrative full of pathos and tears was read. The second winter after the Boxer year the college students learned to sing the simple but beautiful hymn he had just translated, “Some one will enter the Pearly Gate.” One morning we sang the hymn at prayers. Just as we were ending, I looked around to see if he were pleased with their singing. The tears were streaming down his face.
This sympathetic tenderness was as much a part of his nature as was his rugged strength.... He dearly loved little children, and easily won their affection. Wee babies would stretch out their tiny arms to him, and fearlessly pull his beard, to his great delight.
His students both feared him and loved him, and they loved him more than they feared him; for, while he was the terror of wrongdoers and idlers, he was yet their Great-heart, ready to forgive and quick to help. How often have we seen Dr. Mateer’s students in his study, pouring out their hearts to him and receiving loving counsel and a father’s blessing! He loved his students, and followed them constantly as they went out into their life work.
A lady who was present tells that when the first of his “boys” were ordained to the ministry he was so overcome that the tears coursed down his cheeks while he charged them to be faithful to their vows.
His mother’s love he repaid with a filial love that must have been to her a source of measureless satisfaction. Julia could not reasonably have craved any larger measure of affection than she received from him as her husband; and later, Ada entered into possession of the same rich gift. One of the things that touched him most keenly when he went away to China was his separation from brothers and sisters, toward whom he continued to stretch out his beneficent hand across the seas.
He was a man who believed in the necessity of regeneration by the Holy Spirit in order to begin a genuinely Christian life. This is one of those great convictions which he never questioned, and which strengthened as he increased in age. When he united with the church in his nineteenth year, he thereby publicly declared that he was sufficiently sure that this inward change had passed upon him to warrant him in enrolling himself among the avowed followers of Christ. But of any sudden outward religious conversion he was not conscious, and made no profession. In the brief autobiographical sketch previously quoted he says:
I had a praying father and mother, and had been faithfully taught from my youth. I cannot tell when my religious impressions began. They grew up with me, but were very much deepened by the faithful preachings of Rev. I. N. Hays, pastor of the church of Hunterstown, especially in a series of meetings held in the winter of 1852-3.