In the year 1846 the time came for a change. My friend the Rev. Daniel Wilson wrote to invite me to the Incumbency of St. John’s, Holloway, about to be vacated by my dear and honoured friend the Rev. Henry Venn, one of the wisest, the ablest, and the most trustworthy men I have ever known in this life; and there were many circumstances, amongst others the illness of my beloved father residing at Hampstead, that led both of us to the conclusion that we ought to accept the offer. It was one of deep interest in many respects, more especially in consequence of its connection with the Rev. Henry Venn. In early days he was curate or lecturer at Clapham, when he used to attend the Committee of the C.M.S., and was urged by some of the fathers of those days to undertake the Secretaryship; but his heart was devoted to parochial work, so he accepted the living of Drypool, near Hull, and so broke away altogether from the work of the C.M.S. And then it pleased God that he should meet with, and ultimately marry, a lady of some I felt it a great honour to succeed such a man under such circumstances, as it was a great privilege to be brought into closer contact with him, as he continued to reside within the parish. The time at Holloway was not one of encouragement. I met with a great deal of kindness, and I had most interesting Bible classes—not merely one for the young people, but one for the gentlemen after their return from business in London—but still I longed for more of that marked decision which I had left behind me at Richmond. Evangelical truth was “the proper thing” at Islington, so that it was very generally preferred; but I often But I have learnt many lessons respecting that period. I have often said that I regarded that year as the most fruitless period of my ministry, but as I have gone on in life I have met with so many who have ascribed their conversion to the ministry of that short period, that I have been taught the lesson that a clergyman is utterly unable to form any estimate of what God the Holy Ghost is doing through his ministry. However, we were not to remain there long, for the Lord Himself made it perfectly plain that it was His will for us to remove. My dearest wife was very unwell, and I was lame in the right knee. My father also was quickly gathered to his rest in Christ Jesus, so that one of the great motives in going to Holloway was removed. Though I had great difficulty in walking, I was able to ride, and one day I rode in to call on my father-in-law, Sir Benjamin Brodie, whom I consulted respecting my knee, and he said to me,— “I tell you what, Edward; you must go to the seaside.” “Well,” said I, “I did think of going for a short trip after Easter.” “But what,” said I, “is to become of my parish, my work, my family?” “I don’t know,” he replied, “but this I know, that if you don’t go to the seaside for at least a year you will die, and so what will become of it all then?” This was indeed a very heavy blow to me, and I rode home that day solemnised in spirit, and thinking how I should tell my dearest wife what her father had just said to me. It was a very solemn and sacred ride that I had that morning, but on my arrival, before I went upstairs to her, I opened my letters that had arrived during my absence, and almost the first one was from my friend John Plumptre, in which he said that he was one of the trustees of a new church nearly complete at Ramsgate, and it would be a great satisfaction to him and his colleagues if I would undertake the first Incumbency. To describe the mixed emotion with which I went upstairs to tell my wife, both of her father’s opinion and Mr. Plumptre’s letter, is impossible. But the remarkable coincidence did not at first thoroughly satisfy the sound judgment of my friend Mr. Venn. When I spoke to him on the subject, he said that the text which had guided him in his important decisions was Prov. xvi. 3: Letter to his Uncle Cunningham:—
Autobiography (continued).The position was one of the greatest possible interest. The circumstances of the town were quite peculiar. The Vicar of St. George was a High Churchman who did not hesitate to employ curates who went far beyond himself in their opinions, and the result was that two of them went over to Rome. There was an amiable man in Trinity Church who had no sympathy with St. George’s, but yet had but little power in satisfying the hearts of those who loved the Gospel, and the result was that many of the most devoted people in the place were driven either into the dissenting chapels or into general unsettlement of mind. Meanwhile Mr. Pugin Then it was that God raised up a very remarkable man with wonderful energy to erect the new church. He formed a small committee, but he himself was the moving spirit and the one centre It is not to be supposed that these letters written were in a very complimentary strain with reference to the existing order of things in the Parish Church, nor were they likely to make Christ Church acceptable in the eyes of the Vicar or his staff. I myself went to the Parish Church in the afternoon previous to the opening of Christ Church, and I heard a sermon descriptive of the persons who would attend the new church, upon the text “He went away in a rage,” and I there heard my future congregation all classed with Naaman. But apparently there were a great many such Naamans in Ramsgate, for the church was well filled on the 7th of August, the day when it was consecrated by Archbishop Howley, and I may say has been so ever since. I found Ramsgate to be a most interesting sphere of ministry. There were three great sources of interest. First, the shipping. My original Pakefield interest in the English boatmen was more than revived by my acquaintance with the “hovellers,” two hundred of whom were dependent for their bread on helping ships in difficulty off the Goodwin Sands. I fear that some of them But though it was a pretty sight to them to see a foreign chap go straight upon the Goodwin Sands, it was a magnificent sight for any one to witness the skill and daring courage with which they handled their luggers and dashed through the breakers in order to save the lives of the shipwrecked men. They were noble fellows, and when their hearts were touched by the grace of God, they were fine, manly witnesses for Christ. Then there were the sailors on board the various ships that put in for shelter. As the harbour was at that time free, it was sometimes crowded with vessels, and I used to have a grand opportunity for out-of-door preaching. At first I used to go down in my cap and gown on Sunday afternoons, but I found that a sermon out of doors, combined On one occasion I was greatly solemnised. I selected the ship best suited for my purpose, and the Captain and his men gave me the kindest possible reception; the only inconvenience to which they put me was that they would insist upon my preaching against the wind, as they did not consider it sufficiently dignified for me to stand in the hold of the vessel. There they listened most attentively. In the evening the wind changed, and all the ships hurried out of harbour, and how deeply affected was I to hear next morning that the one on which I had received so kind a welcome had been lost with all hands during the night. The advantage of the harbour was that throughout the winter months there was always something going on in it, so that we could not settle down into stagnation. One morning, for example, my friend the harbour-master, Captain Martin, sent up to me to say that he expected a crew of shipwrecked An infant schoolroom was set apart for their accommodation, and another large room was obtained in connection with one of the public-houses; so they were very quickly housed, and such vigour was shown by the ship agents, consular agents, and all connected with the harbour, that something warm was provided for every one of them, even upon their landing. But they were still unclothed, and to meet this difficulty bills were put out, so soon as possible, to request gifts of clothing, cloth, or flannel, and For this they were most grateful, and I had a grand opportunity of preaching the Gospel, as they stayed with us about ten days. But here, alas! was the grievous difficulty, that I did not know German; but this was met by the ready help of two young ladies in my congregation, to whom German was as familiar as English, and, as far as preaching and other addresses were concerned, a great difficulty was removed. At length, however, there arose one for which I was not prepared. The poor emigrants, in the fulness of their hearts, were not satisfied with the service provided for them in the schoolroom, but were anxious to come together to the Holy Communion. But here a fresh difficulty arose. They could not I have seldom known a more solemn and sacred service than when we all knelt together in one spirit, if not in one tongue, to commemorate the dying love of that blessed Saviour who shed His precious blood that whosoever believeth in Him should receive remission of sins. The next day they were sent off to London, and I have never heard of any of them since. But I believe the record of those days to be written in heaven, and I must say I took great delight in the testimony borne by the German Government to the zeal and hospitality of the good people of Ramsgate, more especially as particular mention is made of that dearly beloved one to whose zeal and loving-kindness the whole movement was chiefly due. But the chief interest was in the sailors themselves. I was deeply impressed at the hardness I never can forget one fearful Sunday morning, when it was bitterly cold and blowing such a north-easterly gale as it can blow at Ramsgate, before church I went on to the cliff to see what was going on, and there opposite the mouth of the harbour I saw one ship sunk, not very far from the entrance of the harbour, with its crew clinging to the masts. Our brave hovellers were doing all they could for their rescue, and I saw another smaller vessel, “with sails ripped, seams opened wide, compass lost,” struggling if possible to make the harbour. Oh, how I longed to run down and take my part in the efforts that were being made for their rescue! and I cannot answer for my thoughts during the time that I was obliged to be at church. No sooner was the service over than I was again on the cliff, and not a trace could I see of the sunken ship or crowded mast. It had fallen before any help could reach the poor fellows who were clinging to it, and all hands had been lost; but the little sloop was just entering the harbour, and I cannot describe the scene I witnessed when I went on He said he had one very dear friend, the mate of a collier brig, and they were together at Sunderland. His friend came to him in the evening of Christmas, and they had a delightful evening together, till at length his friend returned to his ship, and both vessels sailed for the South. All went well with him till he reached the mouth of the Thames, where he was caught by the gale and took shelter behind the long sand; but after a time the wind shifted, and his position became one of the utmost danger. He found his only hope of escape was to pass by the end of the sand, and he doubted whether this would be possible, and he knew that if once stranded on it he must be lost without a hope. The first thing was to hoist a sail, but in order to do this they had to clear the ropes of ice with their axe. They then hauled in the anchor, and the little vessel was soon in the midst of the boiling surf. The master himself took the helm, and said to the crew that their only help was in God, and bade them come and kneel around him while he steered and prayed. Very soon a huge wave appeared to lift the little And what was the sorrow that awaited my excellent friend when he found himself safe. As he entered the harbour he passed through the wreckage of the vessel I had seen before church, but when he learnt the particulars he found that it was the ship of that dear friend with whom he had spent that happy Christmas evening, and that he was one of those who had perished in the wreck. But in the midst of it all he was kept in a calm, hallowed, peaceful communion with God, which proved indeed how the Lord sitteth above the waterflood, when the Lord can give peace unto His people. It was one of the sorrows connected with Ramsgate that we seldom saw those brave men a second time. So my friend stayed awhile till his Another great object of interest at Ramsgate was the conflict with Rome. I had had some little experience in the controversy when at Richmond, as a zealous man had given some controversial lectures there in favour of Romanism, and so compelled me to get up the subject. This had led me to preach a course of Sunday Evening Lectures, which I afterwards published under the title of “Our Protestant Church.” I have had reason to believe, with great thanksgiving, that God has made them useful to others, as, I thank God, He made the study of the subject exceedingly useful to myself. I remember a remark of Dr. McNeile, that nothing tended more to set forth the glories of the Gospel than the dark background of Popery. At Ramsgate the conflict was in full activity. A chapel had been recently erected through the liberality of Mr. Pugin, and the Roman Catholic party had all the enthusiasm of a new and hopeful enterprise; so we were soon brought into collision, sometimes in private conversation, and sometimes in public lectures, in which I freely invited any one who could to answer me. And there are four lessons which I learnt and which possibly may be useful to my brethren. Firstly, the Romish controversy does not require I had one fearful instance of this at Ramsgate, in the family of one of our tradesmen, who had taken sittings in my church. I heard one day However, at eight o’clock precisely the bell rang, and the daughter was there. She was a woman between thirty and forty years of age, fine features, and strong in intellectual expression of countenance. She confirmed all that her mother had told me, and when I asked her what had led to it, she informed me that she was engaged to a young man of very superior position to her own, that when walking together one evening the year before they had turned into Christ Church, and there heard a sermon that had made them both so uneasy that neither of them had ever been happy since. They were afraid to go again, for fear that their trouble should be increased; so they had wandered hither and thither, seeking rest and finding none, till at length somebody told them that if they only joined the Church of Rome they It was clear that the poor thing was really anxious about her soul, so instead of saying one word to her about the Romish controversy, I asked her the question, “Must you be holy first, or forgiven first?” She was very much surprised and almost affronted by my asking her anything of so simple a character. “Of course I know that,” said she. “I daresay you do, but it will do you no harm to tell me what you know.” “Of course I must be holy first,” was the reply. “Then there is the secret of all your difficulty: you have been for the whole year striving to be holy, and you have utterly failed, so that you have had no peace, and could have no peace in the forgiveness of sin.” “Do you mean to say then,” said she, “that I can be forgiven first?” I said, “That is exactly what the Scripture teaches,” and I set before her a series of passages, showing first how the forgiveness is bestowed through the perfect propitiation of the Son of God, and then how it is granted at once, before the fruits of faith can possibly be developed. The poor thing was amazed, and I believe that that very evening, before she left the house, she was enabled to trust her blessed Saviour for the present perfect forgiveness of all her sins. She left the house declaring that nothing should The young man had been already received, and the more she saw of her Saviour, the more she felt the impossibility of their union. What was to be done? She could not go forward to unite with him, and he would not go back to be one with her. Rome brought all its armoury to bear upon her. Bishop, priests, and Romish friends united all their strength in persuading her to give way. But God helped her to stand firm, and though she passed through a most fearful conflict, she lived and died in great peace of soul, resting in Christ Jesus. The young man became a Jesuit priest, and died suddenly when officiating at the mass. The case taught me the lesson, which in fact I had learned before, that in a great number of Romish perversions there is a real desire for the peace of God, and that our wisest course is in all such cases to go direct to that one point, instead of perplexing the mind with the erroneous points of Romish teaching. But the chief interest of all consisted in the blessed privilege of carrying the Gospel of salvation to a number of persons who were really hungering for the Word of Life. There is no class of persons in the world that has a greater claim on those who know the Lord than that consisting of real inquirers after the way of life. This was too much for me to take in silence, so I asked him whether he would bear with me if I told him plainly what each of us had been doing since our residence at Ramsgate. And I then told him that I had been occupied in winning back to the Church those whom he had driven away from it. This surprised him very much, and he replied, “Yes, they will come to hear you preach, but not become communicants,” to which I replied that I could not speak with accuracy, as I had never counted, but that it was my firm belief that on the previous Sunday I had administered the Lord’s Supper to no less than fifty persons who had been driven from the Church of England by the teaching of St. George’s. My But if it was a joy to see the dispersed of the flock brought back to the Church of their fathers, how much greater was the joy of seeing precious souls brought into living union with the Lord Jesus Christ Himself; and this, through the great mercy of God, we were permitted very quickly to do. They were of two classes. There were many who had looked forward in earnest hope, and often prayed for a blessing on the new church, and we cannot be surprised that, when the church was opened, they received that for which they had been praying; but there were others who had no such expectation, but were rather prejudiced against the Gospel, and altogether astonished when for the first time they heard its blessed language. Let me give two cases in illustration of what I mean. About two miles off there was a mill, at which was working a young man named John Brampton. On the day of the consecration of the church, he left his work to attend the service, and in that service it pleased God to open his heart, so that he received the blessed message of life in Christ Jesus. He became at once one of the most active of our helpers, and was amongst The other case was altogether of a different character. I have already mentioned the bitter hostility that some persons showed toward the new church. This was manifested not very long after the consecration by some bad fellows, of whom we know nothing except that they wore the coats of I assured him that I did not require any such evidence, but the seats were taken, and it was not very long before I saw him seated in one of them, and I was deeply interested that his attendances became more and more frequent, until at length one day he was again announced as calling at the Thus the wicked outrage of those men who violated the sacredness of our church was overruled The schools at Christ Church were built by Mr. Hoare when at Ramsgate. The Seamen’s Infirmary and General Hospital in that town also owes its existence to his exertions.—Ed. |