Post by MIRIAM JACOB on May 5, 2008 5:30:34 GMT -5
MISSIONARY WARRIOR - Charles E. Cowman
By Lettie B. Cowman (Mrs. Charles E. Cowman)
Author of "Streams in the Desert"
Copyright @ 1928 By Mrs. Charles E. Cowman
~ out-of-print and in the public domain ~
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FOREWORD
"Greatheart is dead they say;
But the light shall burn the brighter,
And the night shall be the lighter
For his going;
And a rich, rich harvest for his sowing."
- John Oxenham.
The man, Charles E. Cowman, has become increasingly familiar during the past twenty-five years to those interested in foreign missions. As the founder and president of The Oriental Missionary Society, he won for himself and for the Mission a place in the respect and affection of a large number of Christians in the homelands, as well as in the mission fields of the world.
Many of his friends, believing that the origin and history of his work should be more widely known, requested him to write its story, but he felt a natural hesitancy in introducing a volume which would have had, in the very nature of things, a very personal touch, as it would have been written embodying much of his personal life and work. It was undertaken but, after several chapters of the manuscript were completed, he discontinued it, Saying, "Let me be kept so busy making history that I shall have no time to write it. Should the time come when it is necessary, let the pen of another tell the story." The task has fallen to her who sits in the after-glow of that rarely beautiful life.
The biography is, in a sense, the history of a great missionary enterprise. So closely were his personality and the cause of missions linked, that it is impossible to separate them. His work was his very life.
"True biography," said one, "was never nor can be written. Fragrance cannot be put into picture or poem. There is a subtle evasive savor and flavor about character which escapes both tongue and pen. And, more than this, the very best things about such characters and careers are unknown, save to GOD, and cannot be revealed because they are among His secret things. Like Elijah, the best men hide themselves with GOD before they show themselves to men. The showing may be written in history, but the hiding has none, and after studying the narrative of such lives, even with the best helps, there remains a deeper, and unwritten history that only eternity can unveil."
What pen can fully compass or adequately portray the story of simple faith and mighty achievement; of faithful and heroic service of the subject of this memoir, the missionary whose life literally burned out, the man whose master-passion was missions? Such a life has a message for our day.
As he served CHRIST, so also ought we to serve Him, and surely we will serve Him better as we see what a noble service was rendered by this missionary. To young people his message was ever, "Find GOD's plan for your generation and get in line with it."
The world still has men in it whom they are pleased to term "spiritual geniuses"; but, should an examination be made to discover the secret, they would have to come to but one conclusion. They were men who set themselves to find and to do the will of GOD. That is the crux of the whole matter. "If any man will do His will, he shall know... and greater works than these shall he do."
Important ends are served by the reputation which such labor sometimes acquires in this world, and by the good which they have done living after them in the records of earth and in the memories of men; for other hearts catch a kindred flame from their torch.
This volume has, like the life it sketches, just one aim. It is simply and solely meant, not to exalt a personality, but to show the reader what GOD can do with a humble instrument when fully and completely yielded to Him. He needs no praise for his work, but we need the impulse which his consecrated example gave to the world. Neither life nor labor has been in vain. What marvels may be wrought by the inspiration of a single life!
The book is a simple record of a real life, but it is a sacred romance, though the principal actor never dreamed that he was anything but a common man, not the missionary-hero that we see him to be. It is not a biography in the truest sense of the word; but a sheaf of memories gleaned at random from the harvest-field of his fruitful life.
In this work I would beg indulgence for many shortcomings of which I am painfully conscious, because of the fact that it has been written in the few leisure hours of an exceedingly active life. I have tried to paint impartially the portrait of my beloved husband as he lived, and if I have in any measure conveyed the lesson that a life wholly surrendered to GOD is the life that wins, I have not wholly failed in my task:
- Lettie B. Cowman.
Los Angeles, California
September 25, 1928
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MISSIONARY WARRIOR
Charles E. Cowman
By Lettie B. Cowman
Chapter One - Samuel Smiles.
IN THE BEGINNING
"The humblest, in the sight of even the greatest, may admire and hope and take courage. These great brothers of ours in blood and lineage, who live a universal life, still speak to us from their graves, and beckon us on in the paths which they have trod. Their example is still with us, to guide, to influence, and to direct. For nobility of character is a perpetual bequest, living from age to age, and constantly tending to reproduce its like."
"The greatest gift a hero leaves his race is to have been a hero."
An old Bible, the treasured heirloom of succeeding generations, is in possession of the Cowman family. On a page discolored by age and in faded writing, making the record almost illegible, is the name, George W. Cowman, date of birth, October 16, 1810.
Beneath his name, is that of his wife, Elizabeth, date of birth, July 27, 1820. George W. Cowman's parents, a mixture of English and Scotch, came from Great Britain late in 1700 and settled in the Southern States during the slavery days. Very little of their history can be traced, as there were few records preserved, but stories have been handed down from one generation to another, from which one catches glimpses of life on an old Southern plantation,
where cotton fields were a bloom and ebony-skinned people played a great part.
George was the eldest of a long list of sons and daughters and the growing fledglings in his father's family crowded him out, so he migrated northward to seek his fortune in a newer and thriftier country. Years afterward, when sons and daughters were sent to bless his own home, he would take them upon his knee and relate to them stories of his boyhood days "away down South."
He told them of the parting with his parents;
- of the way his sisters wept when he bade them goodbye;
- of the long journey which was made by wagon, over rough roads and through swollen streams;
- of the warm hospitality he found among the northerners;
- of how the North and South joined hands and hearts when he met their devoted mother, Elizabeth.
The story usually concluded with something which they never tired of hearing - of the honeymoon which was spent on the long, long journey to the newer West, where they found their home among the pioneers in the State of Illinois.
Upon their arrival they prayed,
"May the God of our Fathers bless us and though, like Jacob of old, we have but a stone for a pillow and the canopy of Heaven for a covering, may we all find GOD in this place, and may it be to us as
the House of God and the Gate of Heaven."
How the prayers of these faithful pioneers have been answered, time has told. There were neighbors scattered here and there, kind-hearted folk who had moved from New England and the Southern States to establish homes for themselves. Generally speaking they were fairly well-educated men and women who brought with them ideals of righteousness, and truth, and the community might have been termed Christian.
There were tangled solitudes in their surroundings that challenged the courage of the bravest, but all was not dreariness in the life of a pioneer. They had their joys as well as their hardships and
entered into the social spirit far more enthusiastically than much of the surfeited society of today.
Out among the wilds, they were free to build after the inner pattern, to dream dreams and visualize their future. They proved to the world that "a man's life consists not in the abundance of the things which he possesses" (Luke 12:15).
Among the fine early pioneers - were those who beheld the beauty in the rainbow, in the sunset, and the thunderstorms. There were books scattered about in the log cabins, and around the flickering light of the fireplace they read Whittier, and Shakespeare.
Every year new settlers came; all were heartily welcomed. There were many "house warmings" when a new house was completed, and "husking bees" when the autumnal harvest was gathered.
A rare type of hospitality was developed and the neighbors were acquainted with each other from Hickory Hill to Four Mile Creek. Their interests were common; "their fears, their hopes, their aims were one, their comforts and their cares."
Little children came to grace these humble homes and the parents built log school houses in which they were to receive their education. They also built churches, for wherever these early
pioneers went, they reared an altar unto GOD.
The settlers came from far and near to join in the simple services that told the pioneer of the great hope in the future which was for him, his wife and his children; that in spite of their lives of toil and deprivation, there was something higher and better in another world than this.
How much we owe to our rugged type of ancestry! As we look at their pictures adorning the walls, the men, with their stiffly starched shirts and ruffled collars, the women, in flowing skirts and with their hair combed so smoothly over their foreheads, we are inclined to look upon them with some scorn, but they are the stock from which have sprung our courageous Americans.
To the home of George and Elizabeth Cowman, God sent nine children. David Franklin was the second child, one greatly loved by the mother; and what a mother Elizabeth Cowman proved to be! While the father would rise long before the dawn to feed the stock and do the chores, she would be preparing breakfast for the large family. There were no servants in those days, and every bit of cooking and baking had to be done by her own hands.
The clothing had to be woven on a hand-loom, and made without the aid of a sewing machine; however, every Lord's Day morning she, with her entire family neatly clad in their home-spun, was present at the church services.
What finer tribute could children pay to their mother than those of Elizabeth Cowman, who long afterward said, "We never saw our mother out of temper, or heard her speak a cross or harsh word."
What was the secret? When about her hard work, she was humming some familiar hymn or meditating upon the rich promises from the Book of books. Her faith was in GOD and upon His strong arm she leaned.
David was very fond of books, early developing a gift for teaching, and his parents did their utmost to give him the best education which the humble schools afforded. He was a diligent student and his dollars, which were few, were spent for books.
From his earliest youth he was a leader among the young people. He was a noble boy with fine, high ideals, and when his father died, leaving the mother with a family of nine to rear, it was to David that she looked for counsel.
The nearest neighbors of George and Elizabeth Cowman were a very congenial and companionable family, named Keyes. They, too, had moved from another state, following the lure of the West. The father of the family was named John, by his staunch Presbyterian parents.
There were many Biblical names in the godly Cowman circle. It was not uncommon then to give the children Bible names and often in one family were Matthew, Amos, Elijah, Hezekiah, Sarah and Hannah.
The Keyes home was a very hospitable one where a royal welcome was ever to be found. Their house, somewhat different from the others, was large and roomy. A wide open lawn led up to the
doorway. There were trees with great overhanging branches inviting you to rest under their welcoming shade, when the thermometer registered one hundred degrees.
The Keyes' farm had a beautiful river flowing at its edge and close by was a woodland, which for beauty was quite unsurpassed. Often during the summertime, the entire countryside would gather there for a campmeeting and the woods would ring and re-echo with songs of praise to GOD.
John and Sarah Keyes were the parents of three sons, Albert, William and Charles. There was an only daughter named Mary. When she was but thirteen years of age, the death-angel robbed the home of its dearest treasure, the mother, and henceforth it was upon this young girl that much of the care and burden of the home rested.
Mary was considered an unusual character. Everybody loved her sunny face and smiling eyes. Her jet-black hair was always neatly braided, her dresses and aprons spotlessly neat and clean. During the autumn and winter months she attended school, spending the evenings in study to keep up with her classes. Often at the midnight hour she would be found poring over her books and when she was but seventeen, she possessed a very thorough education for her day.
Along with her studies the finest art which a woman can master was acquired, the art of homemaking, and Mary Keyes carried off the honor of being an ideal housekeeper. The neighbors loved her
and named her "Our Mary."
The Cowman and Keyes families practically grew up together. They attended the same school, the same church; they vied with each other over the school prizes and David Cowman was often at the Keyes' home where there were boys of his own age; however, there was another magnet drawing him hither.
"Love took up the harp of life and smote on all the chords with might."
Emerson wrote: "Love is a fire, that, kindling its first embers in a narrow nook of a private bosom, caught from a spark of another private heart, glows and enlarges until it warms and beams upon multitudes of men and women, upon the universal heart of all, and so lights up the whole world of nature with its generous flames."
The happy schooldays and teen years for David Cowman and Mary Keyes were ended. They indulged in dreams of a home of their own; however, love's young dream was soon cut short by rumors of war.
The North and the South became engaged in a deadly combat over the slavery question. The nation sent out a call to its men to shoulder arms. Thousands responded, other thousands enlisted; and one day an officer went to the home of Elizabeth Cowman, the widow, to inform her that her son David had volunteered for service, and would be expected to leave immediately for the battle-front.
Two days later a young man dressed in a soldier's blue uniform rode up to the Keyes' home to bid Mary farewell, and David Cowman left for the battle-front under Company G. 83rd Illinois Infantry, August, 1861.
Time passed slowly to the parents of the boys. The entire nation became weary and heartsick of the longdrawn-out struggle. The years between 1861 and 1864 dragged along, and the fourth
year of the war was dawning. Letters had been exchanged between David and Mary and often she read and re-read them, then tied them with a bit of ribbon and placed them carefully away.
Where is the person so devoid of sentiment that in his possession, somewhere, a package of old faded letters may not be found which tell of some wonderful moments in life?
On the Lord's Day, at the little log church, prayer was offered for the safety of the loved ones at the front. Mary Keyes never failed to be present to mingle her petitions with the others, for was not David her soldier-boy and did not GOD hear and answer prayer, bringing many a lad home in safety?
One day Company G. was ordered out on a long march. It was in the month of August when the heat in the Southland was at its zenith. The route took them through a region where tall mountains reared their heads skyward.
The air was stifling and David Cowman fell by the wayside, quite overcome. In the rear came the enemy in hot pursuit and they were compelled to march quickly. There was little time to pick up those who had fallen, but a kind-hearted soldier lad lifted David up, gently laid him under a tree and marched on.
A few hours later, another company came along this same route. In this company was Henry Cowman, David's brother. Henry noticed a soldier boy lying under a tree and he felt irresistibly drawn to step aside to see who it was, and there he recognized him as his own brother.
In his canteen was left a cup of water; he pressed it to his brother's lips, life came back, and soon sufficient strength returned to David to enable him to return to his own camp. Thus the life of David Cowman was spared. Was God not planning then for the years ahead when his son would be marching through the mission fields of the Orient?
The fourth year of the war was drawing to a close when there came a glimmer of the dawn of peace; and one glad day there flashed over the wires from one end of the nation to the other, news that thrilled the hearts of all. Peace had been declared. The slaves had been freed. Company G. was ordered home.
Where did David Cowman go first of all upon his return? To the Keyes' home, most certainly, where his own dear mother and Mary were waiting to welcome him.
Mary's father had given his consent to their early marriage and in the lovely month of September, the twenty-first day, 1865, David Cowman led Mary Keyes to the marriage altar.
It was a glorious autumn day, the maples were turning red and gold, a touch of Indian summer was in the air, peace brooded over hill and vale, and they were supremely happy. Was there ever
a lovelier bride in her dress of soft gray, with its trim fitting bodice and sleeves of lace? Her skirt measured six full yards around the bottom and added to it was a fluting and a shirring, every stitch having been taken by the bride herself.
How often, sitting by the fire-light with hands clasped in her lap, has "Mother Cowman," as she has been that to the writer for forty-one years, described that wonderful wedding day, sixty-three years ago, recounting the way the day was spent, naming the friends who were present, dwelling on the beautiful traits of her young husband and recalling to mind the new home where they began life together.
Their first home near Toulon, Illinois, was built on a knoll overlooking the hills and woodland meadows where in the early dawn the thrushes sang their sweetest songs. A brook ran close by and it was a picturesque spot. During the winter months David taught school and in the summertime he took care of the farm.
On August 1, 1866, "Our Mary" held in her arms a baby girl whom they named Cora Esther. Everybody loved the wee infant which had deep black eyes and delicate features. Their joy was complete when on March 13, 1868, there was given to them a little black-eyed son, whom they named Charles Elmer Cowman.
The day of his birth seemed for awhile likely to prove the day of
his death, for the evidences of animation were so slight, and the care which the mother required so absorbing, that the little infant was laid aside as dead; but soon afterwards, one of the attendants was providentially led to closer examination. A very slight heaving of the chest was observed, there was a low cry, and thus was saved to the world a life which proved to be of such incalculable value.
When he was but two weeks old, the parents took his little life and laid it in GOD's arms, dedicating him to His service. In that hour they claimed promises, writing his name across the best of them, and looked out into the darkness not knowing what the future held for him.
How often "Our Mary" would steal over to that little wooden cradle, gently lift the snowy cover and show the sleeping face of her baby to the neighbors who had dropped in for a call. In the hours of twilight when all alone, she would pray, "Oh, GOD, help my boy to grow up to be a good and useful man!"
"GOD often has a large share in a little house," runs the proverb, and His share was in that humble home, snugly nestled away in the cradle bed. His lullabies were old fashioned hymns. As far back as they could trace, his ancestry, on both the father's and the mother's side, were virtuous and Christian people.
Who shall estimate the value of such a pedigree? There were no lords or baronets in their ancestral line. None wore stars or crests, but behind him lay generations of clean and hardy living; in his veins ran the blood of men and women who had met life with stout
hearts.
They walked, their feet in the furrows, their heads among the stars. Beliefs were to them what houses and lands, bonds and stocks, are to some of their descendants, tangible possessions.
By them they took hold of Heaven and swung it close to earth, until this life became its antechamber. Unseen, they stood about the cradle of little Charles Cowman, these alert, vigorous people of his race, and gave gifts to the child.
What had been their own they gave to him, a sound body, a dauntless spirit, a venturesome mind. In his hand were placed resourcefulness and courage. What greater gifts could they have
brought? In the completed human history, heredity must be counted with environment.
They had filled their place as pioneers and their dependence upon GOD, developed in the face of such conditions, laid the foundation for the character that is found in this book. They dreamed dreams,
they saw visions.
One of the early country orators said with much emotion as he stood in the open giving an address to the pioneers, "I have no doubt that somewhere in the wilds of this western land, whispering through the chinks of some log cabin, the wind is ruffling the curls
upon the brow of a future son of fame."
How many homes, though seemingly insignificant, have furnished the background for some of the greatest moments of life, the turning point in the history of human events. "The mill stream that turns the world rises in solitary places."
Obscurity of birth is no obstacle to a life of noble service. Show us a list of men who have distinguished themselves in one department or another of philanthropy, literature, science, or art; of men who have proved to be the benefactors of their race; of men who have shone in the pulpit, or at the bar, or in the senate-house; and I will venture to say that no inconsiderable proportion of
these sprang from a lowly level.
Dr. A. M. Hills once said: "Nothing is more remarkable than the surprising places in which GOD finds His great men, but it has been so throughout all ages. When GOD wanted to find the greatest king that ever sat on Israel's throne, the world's poet laureate, He passed by the city palaces and the families of the titled and the great, and all the stately brothers, and went out into the sheep pasture of a Bethlehem farmer.
His mother was so unknown as never to have perpetuated her name. Even the prophetic vision of Samuel would have missed him. His own brothers saw nothing whatever of hope or promise in him, and rebuked him sharply for leaving the few sheep in the wilderness to visit the army. Not a soul dimly conjectured that the immortal giant-killer, the teacher of psalmody to our race, and the kingliest spirit his nation ever would produce stood before them.
"When the chosen people of GOD had touched the darkest hour of national backsliding, and the king and queen and courtiers had all forsaken the Lord, and none would speak for Him because of terror, it was then that GOD, hunting for a real hero to lift Jehovah's standard, one who would dare to rebuke crowned iniquity, and brave the wrath of the monster Jezebel, passed at the schools of the prophets, all the robed priests and Levites, and all the princes of the people, and found His man 'in the obscurity of the mountain village,' east of Jordan - Elijah the Tishbite.
Here was a man who was to lock up and unlock the skies, slay the false prophets, and be the mouthpiece to a guilty nation of the GOD that answered by fire.
"And when this majestic character was approaching his translation, and must select his successor, nobody but GOD would have told him to pass all the sons of greatness and the men of renown, and select, as the great mirac1eworker, the counselor of kings, and the guide of a nation's destiny, Elisha the plowman.
"This same wonder-working GOD, whose ways are above ours as the heavens are above the earth, and who never sees as man sees, passed by all the strong and the great and the promising, and elected to a delicate and difficult mission Amos, the herdsman of Tekoa, and the gatherer of sycamore fruit.
"Who but GOD would have ignored the claims of the titled and noble-born kings and princes of modern Europe, and passed unnoticed all the seats of learning and the heirs of power and wealth and culture, and would have gone to the miner's hut of a German peasant to find a boy who would throw all Europe into ferment, and make popes tremble, and launch upon the world a new
civilization, a renewed Christianity, and all the tremendous forces of the Reformation?
Modern progress, civil and religious liberty, and the teeming impulses of the foremost of all history came from that peasant hut where GOD found Martin Luther.
"This is not unusual; indeed it is almost the customary method of GOD in finding His most distinguished servants. If the wisest and the most far-seeing men in all America had been put to the work of discovering the birthplace of the child who should become the future president of the greatest Republic on earth,
the greatest genius and the most unique character of all the presidents, the only one who would be the companion and peer of Washington in the enduring esteem of mankind, no one would have thought of the comfortless log hut, with its dirt floor, in the hills of Kentucky - the hut in which Lincoln was born.
All these cases and thousands more that might be named, are GOD's surprises in history. He loves to laugh at human pomp and pride, and set at naught our calculations, and bring the unexpected to pass."
When the Lord has a great work to accomplish He frequently makes use of a very humble instrument that no flesh should glory in His presence.
Copyright @ 1928 By Mrs. Charles E. Cowman
___________________________________________________
Charles E. Cowman
Missionary Warrior
By
Lettie B. Cowman
Chapter Two -
A BOY'S LIFE IN THE WEST
"Thank GOD! a man can grow!
He is not bound
With earthward gaze to creep along the ground:
Though his beginnings be but poor and low,
Thank GOD! a man can grow!"
The training of youth for the battle of life is one of the most blessed ministries of parents. David
and Mary Cowman expected to make the training of their children the supreme business of their
lives and they began early to lay plans for their future. They prayed for divine guidance lest in
their own planning they should make a mistake. Should they move to the city where the children
could have educational advantages? Might the allurements and attractions be more than they
would be able to resist? They knew that Satan would lay many a trap for their growing girl and
boy and they recognized the need of having a Divine Guide. When, therefore, the way seemed
clear to them, they moved to another place which afforded better advantages, but still kept them
in the great open country during their formative years. In later years when taking a retrospect,
how truly could they testify that "the kind hand of our GOD was upon us and led us in the right
way."
"CHRIST spent His youth with field and hill and tree
And CHRIST grew up in rural Galilee."
The mother often said, "It was the very best of moves; we brought up our children by themselves
and with us, as we never could have done in the city, and so they were saved the dangers and
difficulties which they might not have been strong enough to meet."
A strange incident occurred during their journey from Illinois to Iowa, in the springtime of 1870.
They arrived one evening at a place on the State Highway, known as the Burd Estate. The large
house in a setting of eight hundred acres was a landmark for travelers. Isaac and Margaret Burd,
Philadelphians, had also followed the lure many years before, and were among the early settlers
"out where the West begins." They were not forgetful to entertain strangers, and David and Mary
Cowman, with their two little ones, spent the night under their hospitable roof.
In the Burd home was a baby girl three months old, named Lettie. Little Charles Cowman was
just two years of age. Did GOD whisper to the mothers that night that these two children were
destined for each other, or did He keep it a secret until a few years later? Surely it must have been a special providence of GOD that directed them to that place!
It was the month of May, and the whole countryside was unspeakably beautiful - the fields, the
hedgerows, the farms and the cherry trees in full bloom. Wild flowers draped every bank and
knoll with beauty.
In a picturesque region twenty miles from the Burd Estate, the Cowmans purchased their farm
and established their new home. The location was by a river close to a forest and a deep lawn led
up to the house. The place was known as "The Cedars" because of those stately trees that
bordered the walk. It was a restful looking place. Many kinds of flowers grew in neatly kept
beds; over the veranda were festoons of roses and honeysuckle. Back of the house was a fence,
which in summertime was buried from sight 'neath the wealth of wild roses and hollyhocks.
Back of the garden was an orchard. There was an abundance of pink and white apple blossoms
and the breath of the morning was as perfume. Surrounding all were fields of corn, wheat, and
meadow-land. Droves of cattle were seen lazily chewing their cud beneath the spreading oaks or
maples; the meadow was deep in sweet-scented clover; the woods rang with bird song.
"And life was sweet! What find we more
In wearying quest from shore to shore?
Ah! gracious memory! To restore
Our golden West, its sun and shower,
And that gay nest of ours
Dropped down among the prairie flowers."
The boyhood, days of Charles Cowman were spent in this rural magnificence. Isolated indeed,
yet the mother had a way of making a homey atmosphere about her, and the parents were like
two youthful companions to their children. Together they played, told stories, walked through
the meadows, reveling in the beauty of flower, chirping bird, and cloudland. What an
environment for a boy!
There was a charm in their mode of living and there was romance even in their surroundings. His
great love for nature was doubtlessly implanted in his heart in these early years. How greatly he
loved GOD's great out-of-doors!
In later years when on the mission field, his letters home expressed a longing for a tramp in the
woods, or an hour by the brook where the water purled over the cool, shadowed rocks. Until the
day of his death, the country with its fresh-turned sod, its green fields of waving harvest, had a
peculiar charm for his nature-loving soul.
The Cowman family was a component part of the community and their hospitable door had a
gracious welcome for friend and stranger. The home had a gracious and far-reaching influence.
The "olive plants" were under perpetual care and culture and nothing that would tend to perfect
their miniature world was neglected. They reached out toward all the good that was attainable in
their surroundings. Fortunate indeed were the children in being born into a home where there
was neither poverty nor riches, so that they did not have the temptations of either.
To a community school more than a mile from the home, the two children would trudge along
through the forest and across the ravine which had a log for a footbridge, making friends with the rabbits and squirrels, enticing them with crumbs saved from their lunch basket. On their return
home they were allowed to spend some time looking for the hiding place of their favorite
flowers, and great was their delight when they would carry a bouquet to their mother who was
waiting at the doorway for them.
The father watched their progress in school with the same vigilance that he gave to his crops and
herds.
Every night they were examined in their studies and the parents of these two God-given little
ones anticipated their development with as great an interest as a horticulturist gives to his rarest
flowers.
Charles was a normal boy in every way, full of life and energy. An outlet for the overflowing life
was found in helping his father with the work of the farm, doing chores, chopping wood, feeding
chickens, and many other tasks. Undoubtedly this early discipline of work was wholesome for
him, as it left neither time nor energy for mischief.
He was a hard working little boy and learned to fling the flail with the threshers in the barn, turn
his swathe with the mowers in the field, and pitch hay with the haymakers. Out in the freshness
where things grew silently he was taught the worth of noiseless work, seeing to it that he never
mistook clamor for force.
He relished with keen zest sports in GOD's great out-of-doors. What human gardener ever
equaled the Divine in arranging a boy's playground in the pure air, under GOD's open sky,
among the blossoming trees, singing birds and bumble bees, and down in the meadow by the
brook? Who would not envy a childhood which left such memories?
Charles was a lad of character, endowed with high pressure, energy, and fire, capable of
projecting his whole soul into any enterprise he undertook. Although much smaller in stature
than his schoolmates, he was the acknowledged leader. It was he who planned the games and
made the suggestions that others carried out. He led the way, but did it in such a selfless manner
that his fellow schoolmates scarcely knew that they were being led, a gift of inestimable value
for a leader.
Mental thoroughness early characterized him. Truthfulness and sincerity were part of his
character; one could never connect him with any sham or subterfuge. There was a genuineness
about him that everybody felt and he was trusted and loved. He was a thoroughly conscientious
and noble-hearted boy; and as a child, Charles Cowman was what he was as a man, modest,
capable, faithful, unselfish, conscientious, and entirely dependable.
In reckoning a man's present, a thousand past conditions and influences must be taken into
consideration.
Religious training was given first place to the children in those days and nothing was permitted
to interfere with church duties. When the Lord's Day came every one went to church, and it was
never a debatable question whether Charles would go or remain at home. The world is
languishing today for the old-time regime of parental authority. There was a very decided
element of reverence and religion in the pioneer. Many thought nothing of walking five miles to attend Sunday services.
The winters were bitterly cold, snow drifted the roadways, but the Cowmans seldom missed a
service even when the thermometer registered many degrees below zero. The church which they
attended was known as "The Centenary Methodist." It was a plain frame building painted white,
and on the top was a belfry. Every fortnight a preacher of the old type came to hold services. He
was filled with the HOLY SPIRIT and tears would run down his cheeks while he preached, and a
holy unction inspired his very tones. This made a lasting impression on the children.
The preacher usually accompanied them home for dinner, spending the afternoon in holy
conversation, then in the evening all would walk back again to the services.
The Cowman home was known throughout the country as a haven for the early circuit riders.
There was about these itinerant preachers such a unique personality that they commanded
reverence and an appreciation found nowhere else in the Lord's work, and they who were
permitted to entertain such men of GOD felt honored. These gracious influences became a rich
endowment.
The life of this farmer boy might have been considered hard, but it gave to him vigor, strength,
and Courage. Moreover, life presented itself under this regime as something regular and fixed,
with no uncertainties. It was settled that he labor, study, attend church, and enjoy certain
pastimes. His elders had no uncertainties. They knew what they wanted, freely expressed it,
struggled for it, obtained it.
David Cowman was a Methodist classleader, and during the week as the neighbors gathered in
the different homes, for prayer, testimony, and reading the Scriptures, GOD met them in a
gracious manner. The Bible was read daily in that humble country home. This early reading took
Charles back and forth through the Bible several times, printing on his alert and impressionable
mind a knowledge of the Book such as practically no child receives today. Before he was able to
pronounce the long names, he had read the Gospels through and had committed many portions to
memory. The large family Bible held something of reverence and awe and when it was taken
down to be read, all play ceased and the children sat listening quietly.
Early impressions are the most enduring and lasting shape and trend are often given to
human lives while children are yet in their infancy. A mother's prayers, a father's faith, the
Christian atmosphere of the home, the place the Bible holds in the family, are vital influences
in child training. The child who is taught to read the whole Bible, will be furnished, when he
reaches manhood, with a complete armory of weapons with which to resist the devil. Half a
century later the impressions made upon Charles Cowman through these influences had not
left his mind.
When he was about ten years of age there was a rumor that a farmer living twenty miles distant
had been to the city and, bringing home a keg of liquor, had become intoxicated. What
consternation it caused! It was talked of in every home. The children were greatly excited as they
listened to the comments made by their elders. Frequent references were made to this farmer's
drunkenness. Sunday school scholars were often strongly warned against the deadly drink.
Around the family altars the parents prayed that their children might ever resist the temptation to
taste the deadly poison. Is it any wonder that in later years when they were called upon to take their stand on the side of temperance, they voted one hundred percent for prohibition?
"Never go into debt" was an adage of the Cowman household. They adhered to it strictly because
they dreaded it as much as a contagious disease. Looking back on those days, we can trace
without difficulty the elements of character that made his maturer life remarkable.
"This is not a world of chance or happen-so; behind the heralded deeds of every man - such as
have made history and shaped the policies of men - there can be seen in the dim background the
shadow of some one else, or something else."
It was the parents of Charles Cowman who implanted in his heart the ideals that guided his life.
A godly parentage is a precious boon; its blessing not only rests upon the children of the first
family, but has often been traced to many successive generations.
David Cowman, the father of Charles, was a man of few words. One of the things his son never
could forget was the father's utter sincerity and hatred of everything mean and underhanded. He
was the very soul of honor and expected as much from everybody else.
His mother was the mainspring of his life. They were great companions and it was in the heartto-
heart talks between the young mother and son, that the foundation of his character was laid.
She had a power to draw her children to her as the moon draws the tides. She seemed to draw out
all that was chivalrous and manly in a boy's nature. Faithfulness, courtesy, and friendliness
reappeared in her son.
When one inquires into the life of a child, he must take note of the mother who, more than any
other on earth, shapes infancy and adolescence into worthy manhood. Among the teeming ranks
of the glorified, what a special place in the van of the great army should be assigned to Christian
mothers! How many names would we miss in the roll of Christian heroes but for them!
There are two classes of women whom the Romans loved to honor - the few virgins who devoted
themselves in perpetual virginity to keeping alive the vestal fires, and the mothers of heroes.
When the lives of great men are written and Charles Cowman's name stands upon those pages, it
will be the mother who made him what he was for the cause of CHRIST and humanity, who will
stand emblazoned in the forefront of the army. To have given the world such a son is greater than
to have conquered kingdoms.
Eight very happy years were spent in this home of the West. Although there had been numerous
kinds of hardships and trials, these had been passed through victoriously. Life bloomed fair with
cherished hopes. GOD had entrusted to their keeping another little child, a sweet baby named
Lillian. Charles was exceedingly fond of her, and loved to carry her about in his strong arms, or
sit by her cradle while he rocked her to sleep.
She was taken ill, suddenly, one day, when but a little over a year old. The family doctor was
hastily summoned.
After a careful diagnosis he beckoned the father from the room. When he returned his lips were
pale, and his face ashen. The parents, grief-stricken, knelt by the little sufferer, imploring GOD
to spare her life, but they remembered that she had only been loaned to them and He had a right to take her to the Home for little children above the bright blue sky. What did these God-fearing
parents say? "His will be done! Let Him take what He will in His own royal way," and as a little
lamb they laid her in the arms of the Good Shepherd.
A few days of anxious waiting and helpless watching followed, and then Lillian lay in her little
white casket in the front room like a beautiful block of marble. Comfort came to the hearts of the
parents as He whispered, "She was Mine before she was thine, follow Me and thou shalt find thy
treasure in Heaven." So the shaft of Heaven's glory seemed to fall on that silent crib and the
sweet child was no longer dead, but sleeping.
"We give thee back thy loan, Oh Lord,
And praise thee while we weep."
When they carried her body away to the cemetery, Charles' heart was well nigh broken and he
wept inconsolably beside the newly-made grave. Why had the GOD of love taken from them the
one whom they loved so tenderly? Was He good to have done such a thing? How GOD can hurt
where He loves was a puzzle to him.
Rebellion rose in his young heart, but he kept it hidden, not daring to tell his dear mother. The
summertime dragged by with its long, sad, and lonely days. No longer was the bird song sweet to
his ears; the flowers had no message, earth seemed swept and desolate. The winter time came
with its bleak, bare, cold days, making the wound even deeper.
One Sunday morning the Methodist preacher announced to his congregation that he expected to
begin a revival meeting in their church. He asked that all the families pray especially for their
children, so that every one of them might be brought into the fold. There was very little
outbreaking sin in the community, but the preacher said, "We need an awakening."
These old-time preachers possessed a limited education, but they knew GOD, and the Bible plan
of salvation was presented in a manner that even a child could understand. How very fortunate is
the person who is reared in a community where the old-time mourner's bench is not a relic of
by-gone days, an out-of-date, antiquated sort of thing. There can be no substitute for the altar
of prayer, or a broken and contrite heart.
One night at the conclusion of the sermon, while the congregation was singing, "Come ye
sinners poor and needy, weak and wounded, sick and sore," Charles Cowman, without
persuasion, left his seat and walked down to the mourner's bench and wept out his sorrow. The
imprint of that service remained on his spirit to the day of his death.
Into his young heart stole a ray of light, and he seemed to see the Good Shepherd walking
through the green pastures, while upon His arm He bore a little lamb. His kindly words quieted
all the fears, as He said, "It is well with thy sister. We had need of her in the many mansions
where she is adding new delight, and some day you will meet her again."
And as He spoke these comforting words there came into his heart a strange peace and
resignation, a sunburst of light and revelation. He learned that not in cruelty, not in wrath, but in
love, had He transplanted their loved one to a sunnier clime, where no rude blasts ever come.
From that moment he thought of baby Lillian as being in the King's palace garden.
On the way home. that bitter winter night he sang for joy. The terrible tempest that had raged in
his young heart was forever stilled.
The revival was thought by many to have been a failure as only one boy had been converted; but
how little they realized what the conversion of that lad of thirteen would mean to thousands of
heathen. How little did any one of that community dream that he would some day become a
missionary and the founder of one of the greatest evangelizing forces on earth!
Copyright @ 1928 By Mrs. Charles E. Cowman
By Lettie B. Cowman (Mrs. Charles E. Cowman)
Author of "Streams in the Desert"
Copyright @ 1928 By Mrs. Charles E. Cowman
~ out-of-print and in the public domain ~
_____________________________________________________
FOREWORD
"Greatheart is dead they say;
But the light shall burn the brighter,
And the night shall be the lighter
For his going;
And a rich, rich harvest for his sowing."
- John Oxenham.
The man, Charles E. Cowman, has become increasingly familiar during the past twenty-five years to those interested in foreign missions. As the founder and president of The Oriental Missionary Society, he won for himself and for the Mission a place in the respect and affection of a large number of Christians in the homelands, as well as in the mission fields of the world.
Many of his friends, believing that the origin and history of his work should be more widely known, requested him to write its story, but he felt a natural hesitancy in introducing a volume which would have had, in the very nature of things, a very personal touch, as it would have been written embodying much of his personal life and work. It was undertaken but, after several chapters of the manuscript were completed, he discontinued it, Saying, "Let me be kept so busy making history that I shall have no time to write it. Should the time come when it is necessary, let the pen of another tell the story." The task has fallen to her who sits in the after-glow of that rarely beautiful life.
The biography is, in a sense, the history of a great missionary enterprise. So closely were his personality and the cause of missions linked, that it is impossible to separate them. His work was his very life.
"True biography," said one, "was never nor can be written. Fragrance cannot be put into picture or poem. There is a subtle evasive savor and flavor about character which escapes both tongue and pen. And, more than this, the very best things about such characters and careers are unknown, save to GOD, and cannot be revealed because they are among His secret things. Like Elijah, the best men hide themselves with GOD before they show themselves to men. The showing may be written in history, but the hiding has none, and after studying the narrative of such lives, even with the best helps, there remains a deeper, and unwritten history that only eternity can unveil."
What pen can fully compass or adequately portray the story of simple faith and mighty achievement; of faithful and heroic service of the subject of this memoir, the missionary whose life literally burned out, the man whose master-passion was missions? Such a life has a message for our day.
As he served CHRIST, so also ought we to serve Him, and surely we will serve Him better as we see what a noble service was rendered by this missionary. To young people his message was ever, "Find GOD's plan for your generation and get in line with it."
The world still has men in it whom they are pleased to term "spiritual geniuses"; but, should an examination be made to discover the secret, they would have to come to but one conclusion. They were men who set themselves to find and to do the will of GOD. That is the crux of the whole matter. "If any man will do His will, he shall know... and greater works than these shall he do."
Important ends are served by the reputation which such labor sometimes acquires in this world, and by the good which they have done living after them in the records of earth and in the memories of men; for other hearts catch a kindred flame from their torch.
This volume has, like the life it sketches, just one aim. It is simply and solely meant, not to exalt a personality, but to show the reader what GOD can do with a humble instrument when fully and completely yielded to Him. He needs no praise for his work, but we need the impulse which his consecrated example gave to the world. Neither life nor labor has been in vain. What marvels may be wrought by the inspiration of a single life!
The book is a simple record of a real life, but it is a sacred romance, though the principal actor never dreamed that he was anything but a common man, not the missionary-hero that we see him to be. It is not a biography in the truest sense of the word; but a sheaf of memories gleaned at random from the harvest-field of his fruitful life.
In this work I would beg indulgence for many shortcomings of which I am painfully conscious, because of the fact that it has been written in the few leisure hours of an exceedingly active life. I have tried to paint impartially the portrait of my beloved husband as he lived, and if I have in any measure conveyed the lesson that a life wholly surrendered to GOD is the life that wins, I have not wholly failed in my task:
- Lettie B. Cowman.
Los Angeles, California
September 25, 1928
_____________________________________________________
MISSIONARY WARRIOR
Charles E. Cowman
By Lettie B. Cowman
Chapter One - Samuel Smiles.
IN THE BEGINNING
"The humblest, in the sight of even the greatest, may admire and hope and take courage. These great brothers of ours in blood and lineage, who live a universal life, still speak to us from their graves, and beckon us on in the paths which they have trod. Their example is still with us, to guide, to influence, and to direct. For nobility of character is a perpetual bequest, living from age to age, and constantly tending to reproduce its like."
"The greatest gift a hero leaves his race is to have been a hero."
An old Bible, the treasured heirloom of succeeding generations, is in possession of the Cowman family. On a page discolored by age and in faded writing, making the record almost illegible, is the name, George W. Cowman, date of birth, October 16, 1810.
Beneath his name, is that of his wife, Elizabeth, date of birth, July 27, 1820. George W. Cowman's parents, a mixture of English and Scotch, came from Great Britain late in 1700 and settled in the Southern States during the slavery days. Very little of their history can be traced, as there were few records preserved, but stories have been handed down from one generation to another, from which one catches glimpses of life on an old Southern plantation,
where cotton fields were a bloom and ebony-skinned people played a great part.
George was the eldest of a long list of sons and daughters and the growing fledglings in his father's family crowded him out, so he migrated northward to seek his fortune in a newer and thriftier country. Years afterward, when sons and daughters were sent to bless his own home, he would take them upon his knee and relate to them stories of his boyhood days "away down South."
He told them of the parting with his parents;
- of the way his sisters wept when he bade them goodbye;
- of the long journey which was made by wagon, over rough roads and through swollen streams;
- of the warm hospitality he found among the northerners;
- of how the North and South joined hands and hearts when he met their devoted mother, Elizabeth.
The story usually concluded with something which they never tired of hearing - of the honeymoon which was spent on the long, long journey to the newer West, where they found their home among the pioneers in the State of Illinois.
Upon their arrival they prayed,
"May the God of our Fathers bless us and though, like Jacob of old, we have but a stone for a pillow and the canopy of Heaven for a covering, may we all find GOD in this place, and may it be to us as
the House of God and the Gate of Heaven."
How the prayers of these faithful pioneers have been answered, time has told. There were neighbors scattered here and there, kind-hearted folk who had moved from New England and the Southern States to establish homes for themselves. Generally speaking they were fairly well-educated men and women who brought with them ideals of righteousness, and truth, and the community might have been termed Christian.
There were tangled solitudes in their surroundings that challenged the courage of the bravest, but all was not dreariness in the life of a pioneer. They had their joys as well as their hardships and
entered into the social spirit far more enthusiastically than much of the surfeited society of today.
Out among the wilds, they were free to build after the inner pattern, to dream dreams and visualize their future. They proved to the world that "a man's life consists not in the abundance of the things which he possesses" (Luke 12:15).
Among the fine early pioneers - were those who beheld the beauty in the rainbow, in the sunset, and the thunderstorms. There were books scattered about in the log cabins, and around the flickering light of the fireplace they read Whittier, and Shakespeare.
Every year new settlers came; all were heartily welcomed. There were many "house warmings" when a new house was completed, and "husking bees" when the autumnal harvest was gathered.
A rare type of hospitality was developed and the neighbors were acquainted with each other from Hickory Hill to Four Mile Creek. Their interests were common; "their fears, their hopes, their aims were one, their comforts and their cares."
Little children came to grace these humble homes and the parents built log school houses in which they were to receive their education. They also built churches, for wherever these early
pioneers went, they reared an altar unto GOD.
The settlers came from far and near to join in the simple services that told the pioneer of the great hope in the future which was for him, his wife and his children; that in spite of their lives of toil and deprivation, there was something higher and better in another world than this.
How much we owe to our rugged type of ancestry! As we look at their pictures adorning the walls, the men, with their stiffly starched shirts and ruffled collars, the women, in flowing skirts and with their hair combed so smoothly over their foreheads, we are inclined to look upon them with some scorn, but they are the stock from which have sprung our courageous Americans.
To the home of George and Elizabeth Cowman, God sent nine children. David Franklin was the second child, one greatly loved by the mother; and what a mother Elizabeth Cowman proved to be! While the father would rise long before the dawn to feed the stock and do the chores, she would be preparing breakfast for the large family. There were no servants in those days, and every bit of cooking and baking had to be done by her own hands.
The clothing had to be woven on a hand-loom, and made without the aid of a sewing machine; however, every Lord's Day morning she, with her entire family neatly clad in their home-spun, was present at the church services.
What finer tribute could children pay to their mother than those of Elizabeth Cowman, who long afterward said, "We never saw our mother out of temper, or heard her speak a cross or harsh word."
What was the secret? When about her hard work, she was humming some familiar hymn or meditating upon the rich promises from the Book of books. Her faith was in GOD and upon His strong arm she leaned.
David was very fond of books, early developing a gift for teaching, and his parents did their utmost to give him the best education which the humble schools afforded. He was a diligent student and his dollars, which were few, were spent for books.
From his earliest youth he was a leader among the young people. He was a noble boy with fine, high ideals, and when his father died, leaving the mother with a family of nine to rear, it was to David that she looked for counsel.
The nearest neighbors of George and Elizabeth Cowman were a very congenial and companionable family, named Keyes. They, too, had moved from another state, following the lure of the West. The father of the family was named John, by his staunch Presbyterian parents.
There were many Biblical names in the godly Cowman circle. It was not uncommon then to give the children Bible names and often in one family were Matthew, Amos, Elijah, Hezekiah, Sarah and Hannah.
The Keyes home was a very hospitable one where a royal welcome was ever to be found. Their house, somewhat different from the others, was large and roomy. A wide open lawn led up to the
doorway. There were trees with great overhanging branches inviting you to rest under their welcoming shade, when the thermometer registered one hundred degrees.
The Keyes' farm had a beautiful river flowing at its edge and close by was a woodland, which for beauty was quite unsurpassed. Often during the summertime, the entire countryside would gather there for a campmeeting and the woods would ring and re-echo with songs of praise to GOD.
John and Sarah Keyes were the parents of three sons, Albert, William and Charles. There was an only daughter named Mary. When she was but thirteen years of age, the death-angel robbed the home of its dearest treasure, the mother, and henceforth it was upon this young girl that much of the care and burden of the home rested.
Mary was considered an unusual character. Everybody loved her sunny face and smiling eyes. Her jet-black hair was always neatly braided, her dresses and aprons spotlessly neat and clean. During the autumn and winter months she attended school, spending the evenings in study to keep up with her classes. Often at the midnight hour she would be found poring over her books and when she was but seventeen, she possessed a very thorough education for her day.
Along with her studies the finest art which a woman can master was acquired, the art of homemaking, and Mary Keyes carried off the honor of being an ideal housekeeper. The neighbors loved her
and named her "Our Mary."
The Cowman and Keyes families practically grew up together. They attended the same school, the same church; they vied with each other over the school prizes and David Cowman was often at the Keyes' home where there were boys of his own age; however, there was another magnet drawing him hither.
"Love took up the harp of life and smote on all the chords with might."
Emerson wrote: "Love is a fire, that, kindling its first embers in a narrow nook of a private bosom, caught from a spark of another private heart, glows and enlarges until it warms and beams upon multitudes of men and women, upon the universal heart of all, and so lights up the whole world of nature with its generous flames."
The happy schooldays and teen years for David Cowman and Mary Keyes were ended. They indulged in dreams of a home of their own; however, love's young dream was soon cut short by rumors of war.
The North and the South became engaged in a deadly combat over the slavery question. The nation sent out a call to its men to shoulder arms. Thousands responded, other thousands enlisted; and one day an officer went to the home of Elizabeth Cowman, the widow, to inform her that her son David had volunteered for service, and would be expected to leave immediately for the battle-front.
Two days later a young man dressed in a soldier's blue uniform rode up to the Keyes' home to bid Mary farewell, and David Cowman left for the battle-front under Company G. 83rd Illinois Infantry, August, 1861.
Time passed slowly to the parents of the boys. The entire nation became weary and heartsick of the longdrawn-out struggle. The years between 1861 and 1864 dragged along, and the fourth
year of the war was dawning. Letters had been exchanged between David and Mary and often she read and re-read them, then tied them with a bit of ribbon and placed them carefully away.
Where is the person so devoid of sentiment that in his possession, somewhere, a package of old faded letters may not be found which tell of some wonderful moments in life?
On the Lord's Day, at the little log church, prayer was offered for the safety of the loved ones at the front. Mary Keyes never failed to be present to mingle her petitions with the others, for was not David her soldier-boy and did not GOD hear and answer prayer, bringing many a lad home in safety?
One day Company G. was ordered out on a long march. It was in the month of August when the heat in the Southland was at its zenith. The route took them through a region where tall mountains reared their heads skyward.
The air was stifling and David Cowman fell by the wayside, quite overcome. In the rear came the enemy in hot pursuit and they were compelled to march quickly. There was little time to pick up those who had fallen, but a kind-hearted soldier lad lifted David up, gently laid him under a tree and marched on.
A few hours later, another company came along this same route. In this company was Henry Cowman, David's brother. Henry noticed a soldier boy lying under a tree and he felt irresistibly drawn to step aside to see who it was, and there he recognized him as his own brother.
In his canteen was left a cup of water; he pressed it to his brother's lips, life came back, and soon sufficient strength returned to David to enable him to return to his own camp. Thus the life of David Cowman was spared. Was God not planning then for the years ahead when his son would be marching through the mission fields of the Orient?
The fourth year of the war was drawing to a close when there came a glimmer of the dawn of peace; and one glad day there flashed over the wires from one end of the nation to the other, news that thrilled the hearts of all. Peace had been declared. The slaves had been freed. Company G. was ordered home.
Where did David Cowman go first of all upon his return? To the Keyes' home, most certainly, where his own dear mother and Mary were waiting to welcome him.
Mary's father had given his consent to their early marriage and in the lovely month of September, the twenty-first day, 1865, David Cowman led Mary Keyes to the marriage altar.
It was a glorious autumn day, the maples were turning red and gold, a touch of Indian summer was in the air, peace brooded over hill and vale, and they were supremely happy. Was there ever
a lovelier bride in her dress of soft gray, with its trim fitting bodice and sleeves of lace? Her skirt measured six full yards around the bottom and added to it was a fluting and a shirring, every stitch having been taken by the bride herself.
How often, sitting by the fire-light with hands clasped in her lap, has "Mother Cowman," as she has been that to the writer for forty-one years, described that wonderful wedding day, sixty-three years ago, recounting the way the day was spent, naming the friends who were present, dwelling on the beautiful traits of her young husband and recalling to mind the new home where they began life together.
Their first home near Toulon, Illinois, was built on a knoll overlooking the hills and woodland meadows where in the early dawn the thrushes sang their sweetest songs. A brook ran close by and it was a picturesque spot. During the winter months David taught school and in the summertime he took care of the farm.
On August 1, 1866, "Our Mary" held in her arms a baby girl whom they named Cora Esther. Everybody loved the wee infant which had deep black eyes and delicate features. Their joy was complete when on March 13, 1868, there was given to them a little black-eyed son, whom they named Charles Elmer Cowman.
The day of his birth seemed for awhile likely to prove the day of
his death, for the evidences of animation were so slight, and the care which the mother required so absorbing, that the little infant was laid aside as dead; but soon afterwards, one of the attendants was providentially led to closer examination. A very slight heaving of the chest was observed, there was a low cry, and thus was saved to the world a life which proved to be of such incalculable value.
When he was but two weeks old, the parents took his little life and laid it in GOD's arms, dedicating him to His service. In that hour they claimed promises, writing his name across the best of them, and looked out into the darkness not knowing what the future held for him.
How often "Our Mary" would steal over to that little wooden cradle, gently lift the snowy cover and show the sleeping face of her baby to the neighbors who had dropped in for a call. In the hours of twilight when all alone, she would pray, "Oh, GOD, help my boy to grow up to be a good and useful man!"
"GOD often has a large share in a little house," runs the proverb, and His share was in that humble home, snugly nestled away in the cradle bed. His lullabies were old fashioned hymns. As far back as they could trace, his ancestry, on both the father's and the mother's side, were virtuous and Christian people.
Who shall estimate the value of such a pedigree? There were no lords or baronets in their ancestral line. None wore stars or crests, but behind him lay generations of clean and hardy living; in his veins ran the blood of men and women who had met life with stout
hearts.
They walked, their feet in the furrows, their heads among the stars. Beliefs were to them what houses and lands, bonds and stocks, are to some of their descendants, tangible possessions.
By them they took hold of Heaven and swung it close to earth, until this life became its antechamber. Unseen, they stood about the cradle of little Charles Cowman, these alert, vigorous people of his race, and gave gifts to the child.
What had been their own they gave to him, a sound body, a dauntless spirit, a venturesome mind. In his hand were placed resourcefulness and courage. What greater gifts could they have
brought? In the completed human history, heredity must be counted with environment.
They had filled their place as pioneers and their dependence upon GOD, developed in the face of such conditions, laid the foundation for the character that is found in this book. They dreamed dreams,
they saw visions.
One of the early country orators said with much emotion as he stood in the open giving an address to the pioneers, "I have no doubt that somewhere in the wilds of this western land, whispering through the chinks of some log cabin, the wind is ruffling the curls
upon the brow of a future son of fame."
How many homes, though seemingly insignificant, have furnished the background for some of the greatest moments of life, the turning point in the history of human events. "The mill stream that turns the world rises in solitary places."
Obscurity of birth is no obstacle to a life of noble service. Show us a list of men who have distinguished themselves in one department or another of philanthropy, literature, science, or art; of men who have proved to be the benefactors of their race; of men who have shone in the pulpit, or at the bar, or in the senate-house; and I will venture to say that no inconsiderable proportion of
these sprang from a lowly level.
Dr. A. M. Hills once said: "Nothing is more remarkable than the surprising places in which GOD finds His great men, but it has been so throughout all ages. When GOD wanted to find the greatest king that ever sat on Israel's throne, the world's poet laureate, He passed by the city palaces and the families of the titled and the great, and all the stately brothers, and went out into the sheep pasture of a Bethlehem farmer.
His mother was so unknown as never to have perpetuated her name. Even the prophetic vision of Samuel would have missed him. His own brothers saw nothing whatever of hope or promise in him, and rebuked him sharply for leaving the few sheep in the wilderness to visit the army. Not a soul dimly conjectured that the immortal giant-killer, the teacher of psalmody to our race, and the kingliest spirit his nation ever would produce stood before them.
"When the chosen people of GOD had touched the darkest hour of national backsliding, and the king and queen and courtiers had all forsaken the Lord, and none would speak for Him because of terror, it was then that GOD, hunting for a real hero to lift Jehovah's standard, one who would dare to rebuke crowned iniquity, and brave the wrath of the monster Jezebel, passed at the schools of the prophets, all the robed priests and Levites, and all the princes of the people, and found His man 'in the obscurity of the mountain village,' east of Jordan - Elijah the Tishbite.
Here was a man who was to lock up and unlock the skies, slay the false prophets, and be the mouthpiece to a guilty nation of the GOD that answered by fire.
"And when this majestic character was approaching his translation, and must select his successor, nobody but GOD would have told him to pass all the sons of greatness and the men of renown, and select, as the great mirac1eworker, the counselor of kings, and the guide of a nation's destiny, Elisha the plowman.
"This same wonder-working GOD, whose ways are above ours as the heavens are above the earth, and who never sees as man sees, passed by all the strong and the great and the promising, and elected to a delicate and difficult mission Amos, the herdsman of Tekoa, and the gatherer of sycamore fruit.
"Who but GOD would have ignored the claims of the titled and noble-born kings and princes of modern Europe, and passed unnoticed all the seats of learning and the heirs of power and wealth and culture, and would have gone to the miner's hut of a German peasant to find a boy who would throw all Europe into ferment, and make popes tremble, and launch upon the world a new
civilization, a renewed Christianity, and all the tremendous forces of the Reformation?
Modern progress, civil and religious liberty, and the teeming impulses of the foremost of all history came from that peasant hut where GOD found Martin Luther.
"This is not unusual; indeed it is almost the customary method of GOD in finding His most distinguished servants. If the wisest and the most far-seeing men in all America had been put to the work of discovering the birthplace of the child who should become the future president of the greatest Republic on earth,
the greatest genius and the most unique character of all the presidents, the only one who would be the companion and peer of Washington in the enduring esteem of mankind, no one would have thought of the comfortless log hut, with its dirt floor, in the hills of Kentucky - the hut in which Lincoln was born.
All these cases and thousands more that might be named, are GOD's surprises in history. He loves to laugh at human pomp and pride, and set at naught our calculations, and bring the unexpected to pass."
When the Lord has a great work to accomplish He frequently makes use of a very humble instrument that no flesh should glory in His presence.
Copyright @ 1928 By Mrs. Charles E. Cowman
___________________________________________________
Charles E. Cowman
Missionary Warrior
By
Lettie B. Cowman
Chapter Two -
A BOY'S LIFE IN THE WEST
"Thank GOD! a man can grow!
He is not bound
With earthward gaze to creep along the ground:
Though his beginnings be but poor and low,
Thank GOD! a man can grow!"
The training of youth for the battle of life is one of the most blessed ministries of parents. David
and Mary Cowman expected to make the training of their children the supreme business of their
lives and they began early to lay plans for their future. They prayed for divine guidance lest in
their own planning they should make a mistake. Should they move to the city where the children
could have educational advantages? Might the allurements and attractions be more than they
would be able to resist? They knew that Satan would lay many a trap for their growing girl and
boy and they recognized the need of having a Divine Guide. When, therefore, the way seemed
clear to them, they moved to another place which afforded better advantages, but still kept them
in the great open country during their formative years. In later years when taking a retrospect,
how truly could they testify that "the kind hand of our GOD was upon us and led us in the right
way."
"CHRIST spent His youth with field and hill and tree
And CHRIST grew up in rural Galilee."
The mother often said, "It was the very best of moves; we brought up our children by themselves
and with us, as we never could have done in the city, and so they were saved the dangers and
difficulties which they might not have been strong enough to meet."
A strange incident occurred during their journey from Illinois to Iowa, in the springtime of 1870.
They arrived one evening at a place on the State Highway, known as the Burd Estate. The large
house in a setting of eight hundred acres was a landmark for travelers. Isaac and Margaret Burd,
Philadelphians, had also followed the lure many years before, and were among the early settlers
"out where the West begins." They were not forgetful to entertain strangers, and David and Mary
Cowman, with their two little ones, spent the night under their hospitable roof.
In the Burd home was a baby girl three months old, named Lettie. Little Charles Cowman was
just two years of age. Did GOD whisper to the mothers that night that these two children were
destined for each other, or did He keep it a secret until a few years later? Surely it must have been a special providence of GOD that directed them to that place!
It was the month of May, and the whole countryside was unspeakably beautiful - the fields, the
hedgerows, the farms and the cherry trees in full bloom. Wild flowers draped every bank and
knoll with beauty.
In a picturesque region twenty miles from the Burd Estate, the Cowmans purchased their farm
and established their new home. The location was by a river close to a forest and a deep lawn led
up to the house. The place was known as "The Cedars" because of those stately trees that
bordered the walk. It was a restful looking place. Many kinds of flowers grew in neatly kept
beds; over the veranda were festoons of roses and honeysuckle. Back of the house was a fence,
which in summertime was buried from sight 'neath the wealth of wild roses and hollyhocks.
Back of the garden was an orchard. There was an abundance of pink and white apple blossoms
and the breath of the morning was as perfume. Surrounding all were fields of corn, wheat, and
meadow-land. Droves of cattle were seen lazily chewing their cud beneath the spreading oaks or
maples; the meadow was deep in sweet-scented clover; the woods rang with bird song.
"And life was sweet! What find we more
In wearying quest from shore to shore?
Ah! gracious memory! To restore
Our golden West, its sun and shower,
And that gay nest of ours
Dropped down among the prairie flowers."
The boyhood, days of Charles Cowman were spent in this rural magnificence. Isolated indeed,
yet the mother had a way of making a homey atmosphere about her, and the parents were like
two youthful companions to their children. Together they played, told stories, walked through
the meadows, reveling in the beauty of flower, chirping bird, and cloudland. What an
environment for a boy!
There was a charm in their mode of living and there was romance even in their surroundings. His
great love for nature was doubtlessly implanted in his heart in these early years. How greatly he
loved GOD's great out-of-doors!
In later years when on the mission field, his letters home expressed a longing for a tramp in the
woods, or an hour by the brook where the water purled over the cool, shadowed rocks. Until the
day of his death, the country with its fresh-turned sod, its green fields of waving harvest, had a
peculiar charm for his nature-loving soul.
The Cowman family was a component part of the community and their hospitable door had a
gracious welcome for friend and stranger. The home had a gracious and far-reaching influence.
The "olive plants" were under perpetual care and culture and nothing that would tend to perfect
their miniature world was neglected. They reached out toward all the good that was attainable in
their surroundings. Fortunate indeed were the children in being born into a home where there
was neither poverty nor riches, so that they did not have the temptations of either.
To a community school more than a mile from the home, the two children would trudge along
through the forest and across the ravine which had a log for a footbridge, making friends with the rabbits and squirrels, enticing them with crumbs saved from their lunch basket. On their return
home they were allowed to spend some time looking for the hiding place of their favorite
flowers, and great was their delight when they would carry a bouquet to their mother who was
waiting at the doorway for them.
The father watched their progress in school with the same vigilance that he gave to his crops and
herds.
Every night they were examined in their studies and the parents of these two God-given little
ones anticipated their development with as great an interest as a horticulturist gives to his rarest
flowers.
Charles was a normal boy in every way, full of life and energy. An outlet for the overflowing life
was found in helping his father with the work of the farm, doing chores, chopping wood, feeding
chickens, and many other tasks. Undoubtedly this early discipline of work was wholesome for
him, as it left neither time nor energy for mischief.
He was a hard working little boy and learned to fling the flail with the threshers in the barn, turn
his swathe with the mowers in the field, and pitch hay with the haymakers. Out in the freshness
where things grew silently he was taught the worth of noiseless work, seeing to it that he never
mistook clamor for force.
He relished with keen zest sports in GOD's great out-of-doors. What human gardener ever
equaled the Divine in arranging a boy's playground in the pure air, under GOD's open sky,
among the blossoming trees, singing birds and bumble bees, and down in the meadow by the
brook? Who would not envy a childhood which left such memories?
Charles was a lad of character, endowed with high pressure, energy, and fire, capable of
projecting his whole soul into any enterprise he undertook. Although much smaller in stature
than his schoolmates, he was the acknowledged leader. It was he who planned the games and
made the suggestions that others carried out. He led the way, but did it in such a selfless manner
that his fellow schoolmates scarcely knew that they were being led, a gift of inestimable value
for a leader.
Mental thoroughness early characterized him. Truthfulness and sincerity were part of his
character; one could never connect him with any sham or subterfuge. There was a genuineness
about him that everybody felt and he was trusted and loved. He was a thoroughly conscientious
and noble-hearted boy; and as a child, Charles Cowman was what he was as a man, modest,
capable, faithful, unselfish, conscientious, and entirely dependable.
In reckoning a man's present, a thousand past conditions and influences must be taken into
consideration.
Religious training was given first place to the children in those days and nothing was permitted
to interfere with church duties. When the Lord's Day came every one went to church, and it was
never a debatable question whether Charles would go or remain at home. The world is
languishing today for the old-time regime of parental authority. There was a very decided
element of reverence and religion in the pioneer. Many thought nothing of walking five miles to attend Sunday services.
The winters were bitterly cold, snow drifted the roadways, but the Cowmans seldom missed a
service even when the thermometer registered many degrees below zero. The church which they
attended was known as "The Centenary Methodist." It was a plain frame building painted white,
and on the top was a belfry. Every fortnight a preacher of the old type came to hold services. He
was filled with the HOLY SPIRIT and tears would run down his cheeks while he preached, and a
holy unction inspired his very tones. This made a lasting impression on the children.
The preacher usually accompanied them home for dinner, spending the afternoon in holy
conversation, then in the evening all would walk back again to the services.
The Cowman home was known throughout the country as a haven for the early circuit riders.
There was about these itinerant preachers such a unique personality that they commanded
reverence and an appreciation found nowhere else in the Lord's work, and they who were
permitted to entertain such men of GOD felt honored. These gracious influences became a rich
endowment.
The life of this farmer boy might have been considered hard, but it gave to him vigor, strength,
and Courage. Moreover, life presented itself under this regime as something regular and fixed,
with no uncertainties. It was settled that he labor, study, attend church, and enjoy certain
pastimes. His elders had no uncertainties. They knew what they wanted, freely expressed it,
struggled for it, obtained it.
David Cowman was a Methodist classleader, and during the week as the neighbors gathered in
the different homes, for prayer, testimony, and reading the Scriptures, GOD met them in a
gracious manner. The Bible was read daily in that humble country home. This early reading took
Charles back and forth through the Bible several times, printing on his alert and impressionable
mind a knowledge of the Book such as practically no child receives today. Before he was able to
pronounce the long names, he had read the Gospels through and had committed many portions to
memory. The large family Bible held something of reverence and awe and when it was taken
down to be read, all play ceased and the children sat listening quietly.
Early impressions are the most enduring and lasting shape and trend are often given to
human lives while children are yet in their infancy. A mother's prayers, a father's faith, the
Christian atmosphere of the home, the place the Bible holds in the family, are vital influences
in child training. The child who is taught to read the whole Bible, will be furnished, when he
reaches manhood, with a complete armory of weapons with which to resist the devil. Half a
century later the impressions made upon Charles Cowman through these influences had not
left his mind.
When he was about ten years of age there was a rumor that a farmer living twenty miles distant
had been to the city and, bringing home a keg of liquor, had become intoxicated. What
consternation it caused! It was talked of in every home. The children were greatly excited as they
listened to the comments made by their elders. Frequent references were made to this farmer's
drunkenness. Sunday school scholars were often strongly warned against the deadly drink.
Around the family altars the parents prayed that their children might ever resist the temptation to
taste the deadly poison. Is it any wonder that in later years when they were called upon to take their stand on the side of temperance, they voted one hundred percent for prohibition?
"Never go into debt" was an adage of the Cowman household. They adhered to it strictly because
they dreaded it as much as a contagious disease. Looking back on those days, we can trace
without difficulty the elements of character that made his maturer life remarkable.
"This is not a world of chance or happen-so; behind the heralded deeds of every man - such as
have made history and shaped the policies of men - there can be seen in the dim background the
shadow of some one else, or something else."
It was the parents of Charles Cowman who implanted in his heart the ideals that guided his life.
A godly parentage is a precious boon; its blessing not only rests upon the children of the first
family, but has often been traced to many successive generations.
David Cowman, the father of Charles, was a man of few words. One of the things his son never
could forget was the father's utter sincerity and hatred of everything mean and underhanded. He
was the very soul of honor and expected as much from everybody else.
His mother was the mainspring of his life. They were great companions and it was in the heartto-
heart talks between the young mother and son, that the foundation of his character was laid.
She had a power to draw her children to her as the moon draws the tides. She seemed to draw out
all that was chivalrous and manly in a boy's nature. Faithfulness, courtesy, and friendliness
reappeared in her son.
When one inquires into the life of a child, he must take note of the mother who, more than any
other on earth, shapes infancy and adolescence into worthy manhood. Among the teeming ranks
of the glorified, what a special place in the van of the great army should be assigned to Christian
mothers! How many names would we miss in the roll of Christian heroes but for them!
There are two classes of women whom the Romans loved to honor - the few virgins who devoted
themselves in perpetual virginity to keeping alive the vestal fires, and the mothers of heroes.
When the lives of great men are written and Charles Cowman's name stands upon those pages, it
will be the mother who made him what he was for the cause of CHRIST and humanity, who will
stand emblazoned in the forefront of the army. To have given the world such a son is greater than
to have conquered kingdoms.
Eight very happy years were spent in this home of the West. Although there had been numerous
kinds of hardships and trials, these had been passed through victoriously. Life bloomed fair with
cherished hopes. GOD had entrusted to their keeping another little child, a sweet baby named
Lillian. Charles was exceedingly fond of her, and loved to carry her about in his strong arms, or
sit by her cradle while he rocked her to sleep.
She was taken ill, suddenly, one day, when but a little over a year old. The family doctor was
hastily summoned.
After a careful diagnosis he beckoned the father from the room. When he returned his lips were
pale, and his face ashen. The parents, grief-stricken, knelt by the little sufferer, imploring GOD
to spare her life, but they remembered that she had only been loaned to them and He had a right to take her to the Home for little children above the bright blue sky. What did these God-fearing
parents say? "His will be done! Let Him take what He will in His own royal way," and as a little
lamb they laid her in the arms of the Good Shepherd.
A few days of anxious waiting and helpless watching followed, and then Lillian lay in her little
white casket in the front room like a beautiful block of marble. Comfort came to the hearts of the
parents as He whispered, "She was Mine before she was thine, follow Me and thou shalt find thy
treasure in Heaven." So the shaft of Heaven's glory seemed to fall on that silent crib and the
sweet child was no longer dead, but sleeping.
"We give thee back thy loan, Oh Lord,
And praise thee while we weep."
When they carried her body away to the cemetery, Charles' heart was well nigh broken and he
wept inconsolably beside the newly-made grave. Why had the GOD of love taken from them the
one whom they loved so tenderly? Was He good to have done such a thing? How GOD can hurt
where He loves was a puzzle to him.
Rebellion rose in his young heart, but he kept it hidden, not daring to tell his dear mother. The
summertime dragged by with its long, sad, and lonely days. No longer was the bird song sweet to
his ears; the flowers had no message, earth seemed swept and desolate. The winter time came
with its bleak, bare, cold days, making the wound even deeper.
One Sunday morning the Methodist preacher announced to his congregation that he expected to
begin a revival meeting in their church. He asked that all the families pray especially for their
children, so that every one of them might be brought into the fold. There was very little
outbreaking sin in the community, but the preacher said, "We need an awakening."
These old-time preachers possessed a limited education, but they knew GOD, and the Bible plan
of salvation was presented in a manner that even a child could understand. How very fortunate is
the person who is reared in a community where the old-time mourner's bench is not a relic of
by-gone days, an out-of-date, antiquated sort of thing. There can be no substitute for the altar
of prayer, or a broken and contrite heart.
One night at the conclusion of the sermon, while the congregation was singing, "Come ye
sinners poor and needy, weak and wounded, sick and sore," Charles Cowman, without
persuasion, left his seat and walked down to the mourner's bench and wept out his sorrow. The
imprint of that service remained on his spirit to the day of his death.
Into his young heart stole a ray of light, and he seemed to see the Good Shepherd walking
through the green pastures, while upon His arm He bore a little lamb. His kindly words quieted
all the fears, as He said, "It is well with thy sister. We had need of her in the many mansions
where she is adding new delight, and some day you will meet her again."
And as He spoke these comforting words there came into his heart a strange peace and
resignation, a sunburst of light and revelation. He learned that not in cruelty, not in wrath, but in
love, had He transplanted their loved one to a sunnier clime, where no rude blasts ever come.
From that moment he thought of baby Lillian as being in the King's palace garden.
On the way home. that bitter winter night he sang for joy. The terrible tempest that had raged in
his young heart was forever stilled.
The revival was thought by many to have been a failure as only one boy had been converted; but
how little they realized what the conversion of that lad of thirteen would mean to thousands of
heathen. How little did any one of that community dream that he would some day become a
missionary and the founder of one of the greatest evangelizing forces on earth!
Copyright @ 1928 By Mrs. Charles E. Cowman