H. B. Mcartney, a pastor in Melbourne, Australia, once visited Hudson Taylor, and recorded the following regarding Hudson Taylor's peace from that visit.
He was an object lesson in quietness. He drew from the Bank of Heaven every farthing of his daily income—”My peace I give unto you.” Whatever did not agitate the Savior, or rufﬂe His spirit was not to agitate him. The serenity of the Lord Jesus concerning any matter and at its most critical moment, this was his ideal and practical possession. He knew nothing of rush or hurry, of quivering nerves or vexation of spirit. He knew there was a peace passing all understanding, and that he could not do without it.
Now I was altogether different. Mine is a peculiarly nervous disposition, and with a busy life I found myself in a tremor all day long. I did not enjoy the Lord as I knew I ought. Nervous agitation possessed me as long as there was anything to be done. The greatest loss of my life was the loss of the light of the Lord’s presence and fellowship during writing hours. The daily mail robbed me of His delightful society.
“I am in the study, you are in the big spare room,” I said to Mr. Taylor at length. “You are occupied with millions, I with tens. Your letters are pressingly important, mine of comparatively little moment. Yet I am worried and distressed, while you are always calm. Do tell me what makes the difference.”
“My dear Macartney,” he replied, “the peace you speak of is in my case more than a delightful privilege, it is a necessity.”
He said most emphatically, “I could not possibly get through the work I have to do without the peace of God ‘which passeth all understanding’ keeping my heart and mind.”
“Keswick teaching” as it is called was not new to me at that time. I had received those glorious truths and was preaching them to others. But here was the real thing—an embodiment of “Keswick teaching” such as I had never hoped to see. This impressed me profoundly—here is a man almost sixty years of age, bearing tremendous burdens, yet absolutely calm and unrufﬂed. Oh, the pile of letters! any one of which might contain news of death, or shortness of funds, or riots or serious trouble. Yet all were opened, read and answered with the same tranquility—Christ his reason for peace, his power for calm. Dwelling in Christ he partook of His very being and resources, in the midst of and concerning the very matters in question. And he did this by an act of faith as simple as it was continuous.
Yet he was delightfully free and natural. I can ﬁnd no words to describe it save the Scriptural expression “in God.” He was “in God” all the time, and God in him. It was that true “abiding” of John 15.