with but one exception the reply was, “Remain at your present station, where God has so abundantly blessed your labours.” The answer of the one brother who did not join in with the others has never been forgotten. As it may do good, I will put it on record. When I showed him the letter, and asked what I should do in reference to it, he, much to my surprise, became deeply agitated, and wept like a child. When he could control his emotions, he said, “For my answer let me give you a little of my history.
“Years ago, I was very happily situated in the ministry in the Old Land. I loved my work, my home, and my wife passionately. I had the confidence and esteem of my people, and thought I was as happy as I could be this side (of) heaven. One day there came a letter from the Wesleyan Mission Rooms in London, asking if I would go out as a missionary to the West Indies. Without consideration, and without making it a matter of prayer, I at once sent back a positive refusal.
“From that day,” he continued, “everything went wrong with me. Heaven’s smile seemed to have left me. I lost my grip upon my people. My influence for good over them left me, I could not tell how. My once happy home was blasted, and in all my trouble I got no sympathy from my Church or in the community. I had to resign my position, and leave the place. I fell into darkness, and lost my hold upon God. A few years ago I came out to this country. God has restored me to the light of His countenance. The Church has been very sympathetic and indulgent. For years I have been permitted to labour in her fold, and for this I rejoice. But,” he added, with emphasis, “I long ago came to the resolve that if ever the Church asked me to go to the West Indies, or to any other Mission field, I would be careful about sending back an abrupt refusal.”
I pondered over his words and his experience, and talked about them with my good wife, and we decided to go. Our loving friends were startled at our resolve, but soon gave us their benedictions, united to tangible evidences of their regard. A blessed peace filled our souls, and we longed to be away and at work in the new field which had so suddenly opened before us.
“Yes, we will go. We may no longer doubt
To give up friends, and home, and every tie,
That binds our heart to thee, our country.
Henceforth, then,
It matters not if storms or sunshine be
Our earthly lot, bitter or sweet our cup.
We only pray, God fit us for the work,
God make us holy, and our spirits nerve
For the stern hour of strife. Let us but know
There is an Arm unseen that holds us up,
An Eye that kindly watches all our path,
Till we our weary pilgrimage have done.
Let us but know we have a Friend that waits
To welcome us to glory, and we joy
To tread that drear and northern wilderness.”
The grand valedictory services were held in the old Richmond Street Church, Toronto, Thursday, May 7th, 1868. The church was crowded, and the enthusiasm was very great. The honoured President of the Conference for that year, the Reverend James Elliott, who presided, was the one who had ordained me a few months before. Many were the speakers. Among them was the Reverend George McDougall, who already had had a varied experience of missionary life. He had something to talk about, to which it was worth listening. The Reverend George Young, also, had much that was interesting to say, as he was there bidding farewell to his own Church and to the people, of whom he had long been the beloved pastor. Dr Punshon, who had just arrived from England, was present, and gave one of his inimitable magnetic addresses. The memory of his loving, cheering words abode with us for many a day.
It was also a great joy to us that my honoured father, the Reverend William Young, was with us on the platform at this impressive farewell service. For many years he had been one of that heroic band of pioneer ministers in Canada who had laid so grandly and well the foundations of the Church which, with others, had contributed so much to the spiritual development of the country. His benedictions and blessings were among the prized favours in these eventful hours in our new career.
My father had been intimately acquainted with William Case
