Fruits of Toil in the London Missionary Society

In Short

This volume serves as both a historical record and a strategic report for the London Missionary Society in 1869. It documents the transition from the precarious, often dangerous early years of nineteenth-century missionary work to an era of institutional stability and expansion. By detailing the development of schools, the training of local pastors, and the financial reorganization of foreign stations, the narrative frames the expansion of these missions as a successful and ongoing global endeavor, rooted in the conviction that religious instruction fundamentally reshapes human society.

The Story

The story begins with the founding of the London Missionary Society, a period marked by profound isolation and hostility. The early missionaries faced a world almost entirely "shut" against them; they encountered regions where governors forbade the preaching of the Gospel to slaves, and vast territories like China remained entirely sealed. They were pioneers in every sense, arriving in unknown lands with no dictionaries, no literature, and no existing infrastructure. Their initial task was not merely to preach, but to produce the very tools of their trade—learning languages, building schools, and translating the Bible from scratch.

As the narrative progresses, the focus shifts from the individual hardship of the first generation to the organizational maturation of the Society. The story tracks how these early, fragile footholds evolved into self-sustaining communities. By 1869, the Society moves toward a "system of management" designed to provide professional oversight and financial sustainability. The narrative arc moves through distinct geographical arenas: the South Seas, where early converts like Peniamina exemplify the power of the Gospel; India, where mission schools and native catechists work to defend truth; and Madagascar, which serves as a central drama of the narrative. In Madagascar, the story follows the slow, dramatic conversion of a nation, moving from the persecution of Christians to the eventual baptism of the Queen herself. This shift signifies a triumph over the "idol keepers" and traditional power structures, replaced by a nascent structure of native churches and ministers.

The ending is not a final conclusion but a call to further growth. The Society, now equipped with better maps, a new mission ship, and a clear, revised policy on expenditure, looks toward the future with optimism. The narrative concludes with the imagery of a "morning gun" at a military station—a signal that the darkness is receding and the day of global evangelization is dawning. The final chapters emphasize the need to continue this work, urging supporters to "lengthen their cords and strengthen their stakes" as they move into new, untouched districts of Africa and beyond. The transformation is viewed as complete in its spirit if not in its scale: the "apostate man" is becoming "divine," and the seeds sown in the "highway furrows" have matured into a harvest that the Society intends to continue reaping with greater precision and reach.

How It Unfolds

The era of foundations The narrative establishes the initial difficulty of the work, describing a time when missionaries were ignored or blocked by colonial officials and lacked even basic linguistic tools.

The shift to systems The Directors implement a formal auditing process and financial revisions to ensure that prosperous, long-established churches become self-supporting, freeing funds for new fields of labor.

Professionalizing the mission A significant beat involves the upgrading of educational standards for missionary students, ensuring that those in positions of influence are intellectually equipped to engage with native scholars and priests.

The rise of native leadership The story highlights the development of a "native ministry," moving from simple readers to ordained pastors who eventually take charge of their own congregations.

The triumph in Madagascar The account describes the political and social shift in Madagascar, where the repeal of laws against stone building and the Queen’s public baptism signal a total cultural transition.

The call for future expansion The final movement focuses on the launching of a new mission ship and the strategic deployment of additional medical and ordained staff to the Betsileo tribes.

The People

The figures in this history are divided into two groups: the planners and the practitioners. The Directors of the London Missionary Society act as the central planners; they are preoccupied with budgets, the "soundest footing" of foreign accounts, and the strategic deployment of resources. They want order, efficiency, and the professionalization of the missionary force. Standing in their way are the vastness of the world, the "fanatic hatred" of competitors, and the logistical challenges of remote stations.

On the other side are the missionary brethren—men like the venerable Mr. Moffat, who spent the strength of his life on Bible translation, and the native converts like Peniamina of Samoa. Peniamina is the moral center of the text; he is a man of "unblemished character" whose life is described as a sharp divide between his pagan past and his Christian present. He wants to serve his church until his last breath, even as his eyesight fails. He and his fellow native pastors, such as the Rev. A. Van Rooyen, are the ones who ultimately carry the work forward. They are the "brightest gems" of the Society, evolving from subjects of instruction into the leaders who guide their own people, representing the ultimate success of the movement’s goal to create self-reliant, indigenous Christian communities.

In Its Own Voice

Regarding the early challenges of the mission:

"Dictionaries, literature, buildings, converts, everything had to be produced."

On the necessity of training missionaries for their evolving roles:

"It is an injustice to our missionary brethren themselves to place them in such positions of weight and influence without giving them the opportunity of acquiring a complete fitness for the important duties which those positions involve."

On the relationship between religion and social change:

"True civilization springs from pure religion."

What It's Really About

The book is a study in the power of institutional persistence. It argues that religious conversion is not merely a spiritual event but a totalizing cultural force capable of triggering systemic social progress. It addresses the question of how a small, voluntary group can manage a complex, global, and highly decentralized network of operations. Central to its argument is the belief that "adaptation is the law of life"—that the mission must evolve from the rough, heroic efforts of the early nineteenth century into a modern, regulated, and professionalized enterprise. It asks whether these young, "childlike" communities can withstand the temptations of the "civilized world," concluding that they require ongoing, paternalistic support from the English churches that birthed them.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of globalization, the administrative mechanics of nineteenth-century NGOs, or the intersection of theology and colonialism will find this a fascinating, if dense, primary source. It captures the specific, mid-Victorian sensibility that viewed the entire world as a map waiting to be filled with infrastructure, translation, and order.

The reading experience is earnest and rhythmic, heavy with the formal language of committee reports and the grand, hopeful cadences of missionary rhetoric. It is not an easy read; it requires patience for long lists of statistics, tables of school attendance, and the occasionally repetitive nature of its administrative updates. A modern reader will likely encounter challenging attitudes regarding cultural superiority and the "civilizing" mission. However, for those who wish to understand how the nineteenth-century church conceived of its global role—and how it justified its own growth through the language of "fruits" and "toil"—it offers an unfiltered, vivid, and deeply sincere window into that mindset. What stays with the reader is the stark contrast between the humble, hand-written beginnings of the mission and the highly organized, international, and confident administrative behemoth the Society had become by the end of the 1860s.