The Hidden Life of William Taylor

William Taylor was born on May second in the year 1821 in Rockbridge County, Virginia, into a family of deep Methodist conviction. His father, Stuart Taylor, was a local preacher, and his mother, Martha, was a woman of earnest prayer whose voice often filled their simple home with hymns of devotion. The Taylors lived by the Scriptures, by hard labor, and by faith in divine providence. From his earliest days William absorbed the language of revival. He was still a boy when he began listening to circuit riders who thundered the gospel across the rural American frontier. The flame that burned in their preaching took hold of him.

At the age of sixteen he experienced a conversion so clear that he never doubted it for the rest of his life. He described it as a visitation of God's mercy that broke him completely and filled him with joy unspeakable. From that moment he resolved to live for one purpose only, to carry Christ to the ends of the earth. Though he had little formal education, he was gifted with a powerful memory and a love for study. He devoured the Scriptures and the writings of John Wesley, and soon began preaching among his neighbors with such zeal that older ministers took notice.

He was ordained in the Methodist Episcopal Church and appointed to frontier circuits where travel was difficult and life was rough. He rode horseback through forests, across rivers, and along muddy roads, preaching in barns and cabins. The crowds that gathered were small, but the presence of God was large. He prayed fervently and preached with tears. Souls were converted wherever he went. Those early years molded in him a character of endurance and simplicity. He learned to live with little, to depend on no one but God, and to keep his spirit burning through continual prayer.

In 1849 he married Isabella Ferguson, a woman of strong faith and deep compassion. She became his companion in the long years of travel that followed. Together they raised a family even while crossing continents. They lived by faith, sometimes in plenty and sometimes in poverty, yet always in peace.

The decade of the 1850s opened a new chapter in his calling. When news came of the California Gold Rush, Taylor felt a divine burden to preach to the miners who were flooding into San Francisco. He journeyed westward across the plains, enduring hunger, dust, and sickness. When he arrived, he found the city in moral chaos. Gambling houses and saloons lined the streets, and many who had come seeking gold were perishing in sin. He began to preach in the open air, first to a handful, then to hundreds, and finally to thousands. His voice rang out above the noise of the city, calling men to repentance. His fearless preaching and unquenchable spirit earned him the name "The Street Preacher of San Francisco."

Revival broke out. Hardened miners fell to their knees in tears. Families were restored. Churches filled with new believers. Taylor himself later said that the glory of those meetings surpassed all earthly reward. He continued for years, planting churches and ministering to immigrants and sailors. But the fire in him could not be contained to one city. He began to feel a burden for the nations beyond the seas.

In 1856 he received a clear call from God to go to Africa. The news came like a trumpet blast in his heart. Leaving his family behind, he sailed for Cape Town and traveled through southern Africa preaching the gospel. His methods were simple. He carried no large funds, depending entirely on faith. He slept in humble huts and ate what was given to him. He preached morning and night, often under trees or in open fields. His messages were filled with the power of the Holy Spirit. Entire villages turned to Christ. He crossed deserts, climbed mountains, and endured fever and danger, yet his spirit never wavered. He often said that the secret of missionary endurance was to live every hour in conversation with God.

His journeys did not end there. From Africa he moved on to India, Australia, South America, and the West Indies. For nearly fifty years he traveled the world without a permanent home, preaching in over thirty nations. He became one of the most traveled evangelists of the nineteenth century. Wherever he went he proclaimed holiness of heart and life, calling believers to the baptism of the Holy Spirit and to the sanctified walk. His preaching was fiery, full of Scripture, and without pretense. He spoke of sin plainly and of grace passionately. His prayers were long, his tears frequent, his joy contagious.

He was not only a preacher but a missionary strategist. He established self-supporting missions, teaching converts to sustain their own churches rather than depend on foreign aid. This vision was ahead of its time and prepared the way for indigenous leadership in many lands. He believed that every nation should bear its own spiritual responsibility before God. He trained local believers to preach, to teach, and to labor for the gospel. His faith in the ability of the Holy Spirit to empower any man or woman made his ministry revolutionary.

Taylor was a man of extraordinary discipline in prayer. He rose before dawn to pray, often spending several hours in communion with God before preaching. On long voyages he would walk the decks praying softly for the nations whose shores lay ahead. When his body grew weary, he would lean on the rail, eyes lifted toward heaven, whispering the names of souls he had met. He prayed through every difficulty, every financial crisis, every sickness. His faith was rugged and unshakable.

He wrote numerous books and journals that recorded not only his travels but his spiritual experiences. Among them were Seven Years' Street Preaching in San Francisco and Our South American Mission. In every page the reader finds the same humble confidence in the faithfulness of God. He gave all glory to Christ, never to himself. Though multitudes came to hear him, he refused the honors of fame. He called himself simply "the Lord's servant."

In 1884, after decades of missionary labor, he was elected as the first Missionary Bishop of Africa for the Methodist Episcopal Church. The appointment was a recognition of his lifelong service. Yet even in that role he remained a man of prayer more than a man of office. He continued to travel across the continent, establishing missions along the Congo and in Angola, always with the same burning zeal.

In his final years he returned to the United States physically weak but spiritually strong. He continued to write and preach as he was able, always urging believers to live in entire consecration to Christ. His last words to his friends were that he wished to be remembered not as a great traveler but as a man who loved God wholly. On May eighteenth, 1902, after sixty years of service, he fell asleep in the Lord. Those who stood by his bedside said that a look of peace rested upon his face, as though he had seen the glory of the homeland.