Ezekiel xxxiii. 33: “And when this cometh to pass (lo, it will come), then shall they know that a prophet hath been among them.”

You can see at a glance the application of these words to the solemn occasion that has brought us together this day. They were spoken to Ezekiel. He was a very popular and attractive preacher. The people sat before him, and his words were unto them “as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument.” But they produced no effect; for the people heard his words, but they did them not. These words were therefore spoken to warn them that when certain predicted troubles should arise, they would learn the truth of Ezekiel’s ministry. Those troubles are described in verses 27, 28; and these words were added to warn the people that when all this should come to pass—which it most surely would do—they would then learn the awful fact that there had been a terrible reality in the message of the prophet, and be taught by too late experience that, although they had regarded him not, they had had a prophet among them.

Now, the word “prophet” is not applied only to those persons who were moved by the Spirit to predict the future, such as Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel. It means one who speaks forth the Word of God, and proclaims the message of God in the Lord’s name. It is a term therefore that, in this its wider sense, may well be applied to your late beloved pastor, our dear and honoured brother now taken from us, of whom it may be said with the most perfect truth that for thirty-four years he went in and out a true prophet among you.

He was a prophet in the true meaning of the word, for he spent his life in publishing or speaking forth amongst you the hidden mysteries of the salvation of God. We quite acknowledge that he was not a prophet like Ezekiel, carried away in lofty flights of inspired ecstasy; nor like John the Baptist, feeding on locusts and wild honey; but he was one who was in his own quiet, devoted life a true prophet, and who for fifty-five years laboured for souls and faithfully preached Christ Jesus his Saviour.

I have no words to express my profound reverence for such a man. He was a true specimen of that most honourable class, the country clergymen of the Church of England. He did not take much part in things outside the parish. Most thankful should we often have been if we had had more of his valuable help and counsel in matters concerning the Diocese and the Church. But the parish was his sphere, the parish was his home, and the parish was the great object for which he spent his life.

Remember him, then, in his Pastoral work. For thirty-four years (the best part of his ministry) you have enjoyed this privilege. I am speaking, I know, to a bereaved flock; and I want you to look back on your past privileges. He went in his pastoral work into the homes of his people. Think of him: how kind, how faithful, how full of sympathy, how diligent in visiting, even in his blindness. Was he not in very truth a true friend to you all? I am sure every heart must answer, “He was.”

Think of him among the Young. The majority of you must have grown up under his care, and you know what an interest he took in you; how he watched over you in the schools, cared for you in your confirmation, and welcomed you when you became communicants at the Table of the Lord.

In my position at Tunbridge Wells, I see young people from all the surrounding villages, and by the candidates which I have for confirmation I can form some estimate of what is going on in the different parishes. Now I always have a good hope when I have to do with young people who have been brought up at Brenchley. I find them, as a general rule, well trained in the Gospel. I cannot say that they all love it, but they have been taught it, and all that the pastor can do has been done for them in their early training. How many are there in this church at this present time who can look back with profound thanksgiving to lessons taught them in early life by that venerable man!

Think of him in his Missionary work. I do not mean in parochial missions, such as you have just been having—I mean in his warm love for that grand institution, the Church Missionary Society. Were there ever known such Bible and Missionary meetings as those in his schoolroom? What a holy enthusiasm did he kindle amongst us! What a glow there was all around him! The dullest hearts could not fail to catch his fire. How he knew the history of each box! He could not see the records because of his blindness, but he knew all about the boxes and their possessors; and it was impossible to be apathetic in his presence. And what was the secret of it all? How was it brought about? How was this fire kindled—this enthusiasm? Was it not that he was a man of prayer? I remember the last meeting I was at in Brenchley. Just before we left the Vicarage we knelt together in his study, and there he poured out his whole soul before God, and pleaded for that blessing which he found awaiting him when we reached the schoolroom. There was the secret of his power, and there it was that he learned that even in his loss of eyesight God’s grace was sufficient for his need.Then think of him in the Church. What a wonderful thing to have seen that man, totally blind, standing at the Communion Table only last Ash Wednesday, and going through the service with the Epistle and Gospel as well as those who have their full vision. It was a grand thing to see the blind man not reading the prayers but repeating them. He had loved those prayers throughout his ministry; he had prayed them all through the days of his eyesight, and they had become so completely a part of himself that, when his eyesight was gone, the prayers remained written both on his memory and soul; so that instead of sight he had memory, and instead of his prayer-book he made use of the fleshy tables of the heart. That is the way to pray.

And then follow him to the Pulpit. How often has he stood in this pulpit to plead with you! He must have preached in this church between three and four thousand sermons! and who can measure the value of such a ministry? Here he stood as the ambassador for Christ, “warning every man and teaching every man in all wisdom that he might present every man perfect in Christ Jesus,” &c. Here he stood to warn the wicked, to awaken the careless, to carry hope to the convicted, to proclaim pardon to the repentant, help to the weak, comfort to the afflicted, and to give food to those hungering and thirsting after righteousness. To sum up, he preached the Gospel of God through the power of the Holy Ghost. And how earnestly did he do it, and how prayerfully! how faithfully and yet how tenderly! How did his heart yearn for souls! How did he first plead with God for sinners in his own home, and then come here to plead with sinners for God! It is to such preaching as this that for the last thirty-four years you have listened habitually, and who shall venture to say that there has not been a prophet among you?

Once more, look at him on his Death-bed. For a long time it had been his constant prayer that it would please God to take him home before he had to give up his work, and so when the answer came all was ready. There was no alarm, no hurry, no confusion. He could still think of his beloved people whom he was about to leave, mentioning by name some of the sick and aged whom he was habitually visiting. He could say, as Mr. Standfast in “Pilgrim’s Progress” did, “I see myself now at the end of my journey; my toilsome days are ended. I have formerly lived by faith, but now I go where I shall live by sight, and shall be with Him in whose company I delight myself.”

And so in the peaceful calm of an assured faith, with his blessed Saviour full in view, and his beloved people, like the names on Aaron’s breastplate, borne still on his heart, he could step across the border-line to receive from his Lord, whom he had so faithfully served and so truly loved, the blessed welcome, “Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.”And now, what was the secret of the whole character and the whole work? What was it that made him what he was in the home, in the parish, amongst the young, in the mission work, in the church, and on his death-bed? What was it that was the very essence of his life?

There was one thing, and one only. And what was that? I appeal to all who knew him. Am I not right in saying that it was nothing else than the glorious old Gospel of the Grace of God in Christ Jesus, his blessed Saviour? On that he lived, on that he laboured, on that he died; and that was the one secret of his peace and power. He was not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ; he knew it as the power of God unto salvation in his own soul, and he did not want to attempt to improve it by any new-fangled notions of the nineteenth century. He believed in what have been called the three R’s—Ruin, Redemption, and Regeneration. He was one of what people call the old-fashioned Evangelical school—and a very good fashion too, for what foundation so good as one that has been tried? He believed in the utter ruin of human nature; in the satisfaction of the Law through the propitiatory sacrifice of the Son of God; in the free pardon through the Blood of the Lamb, and justification through faith alone; in the perfection of imputed righteousness; in the new birth by the Holy Ghost; in His sanctifying power in the souls of believers. He believed that the Lord Jesus Christ would come again, and would keep His people safe to the end; and with a happy, peaceful, bright expectation, he could live “looking for that blessed hope and the glorious appearing of our Great God and Saviour Jesus Christ.” These were the great principles of his life; and by them was his whole character governed. These were the truths on which he lived himself, and which he taught in his ministry; and these were the principles which I trust he has left indelibly written on the hearts and understandings of all of you, who for these many years have enjoyed the privilege of being members of his flock.

We are all agreed, then, that there has been a true prophet among you; and now the question is, What has been the result of his prophecy? His labour is over, he is gone to his rest, and we may apply to him the words, “Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth; Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours, and their works do follow them” (Rev. xiv. 13). And now we have to consider what works there are to follow him. In the case of Ezekiel there was great disappointment. He was an inspired man, and a most attractive preacher. He was one that was heard with admiration; but there was no result, for the people did not act on his words.

Now I fear we must believe that it has been the same with some at Brenchley, for we have no reason to expect that the results of our ministry will be different to that of the ministry of St. Paul, of which it is said, “Same believed the things which were spoken, and some believed not” (Acts xxviii. 24). In all probability, therefore, there are in this parish some who have been familiar with the venerable man labouring amongst them, and who have often heard his earnest words, but have never yet been touched in heart by the grace of God. The hard heart has never yet been broken, the self-will has never yet submitted, and they are still as far from God as if there had never been a prophet among them. Now, if there be such here, remember. You will never hear that voice again; you will no more listen to his earnest pleadings with you for your souls. But those appeals may still tell on you. It is said of Abel, “He, being dead, yet speaketh.” Now you know his character, you know how true and consistent he was; you have heard how peacefully he could depart to be with Christ; and may not his death reach your heart even if his life has failed to do so? What do you think he would say to you now if he could speak from heaven? He might speak possibly with more persuasive earnestness, but I do not believe there would be the slightest change in his message. I firmly believe that it would be nothing but the same old, old story—Christ Jesus for the sinner, and the sinner for Christ Jesus. Think, then, of all you can remember of his ministry. You will never hear it again, so gather up the fragments that remain that nothing be lost. In some cases there may be but very little, for Satan carried most of it away before you left the church; but let that little tell. If you remember nothing more, remember, at all events, his earnestness for your souls’ salvation; remember how he watched for your souls as one that must give account; and if you pained and grieved him by your carelessness when here, remember that you may possibly be able to gladden him even now, for are we not told that “there is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth,” &c.? So let his heart be gladdened even in heaven; let the angels carry up the blessed tidings that the lost sheep is found, and do you listen to those words of St. Peter, which I am sure would be the words of the saint before the throne: “Repent and be converted every one of you, that your sins may be blotted out.”

But it is not to all that I would repeat those words, for I cannot doubt for one moment that the ministry of my dear friend was not in vain in the Lord. There cannot be the slightest doubt that God has richly blessed that ministry to the salvation of very many souls. Who can doubt that there are at this present moment very many with himself before the Throne of God, who owe their place there to God’s blessing on his work in this parish? What a loving welcome must they have given him last Wednesday! And how many are there amongst the living; how many in this church this morning; how many of you who are now before me, have reason to bless God for all eternity for that knowledge of Christ Jesus your Saviour which you learned through the instrumentality of him who will now speak to you no more? May it not be said of this church, “This and that man was born here”? Has not God the Holy Ghost brought life to your souls in Christ Jesus, that life which is in the knowledge of Him? and have you not reason most profoundly to thank God for him whom He sent to be to you the messenger of mercy?

And now he is gone, and what are you to do? The prophet is gone, and what remains? That is a good verse for such an occasion in Phil. ii. 12, for it is the voice of the absent pastor, and it teaches that the flock when bereaved must be thrown on their own personal union with God himself—“Wherefore, my beloved, as ye have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your own Salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure.” So now remember that the Lord Jesus Christ is not taken from you. Though your beloved Vicar is gone, your Saviour remains. You may draw as near to Him this day as you did when that beloved voice led you in prayer. So keep fast to Him, and in Him to each other. Whenever there is a change in the ministry there is a tendency to unsettlement, but let there be no unsettlement here. Do not begin to wander because he is gone; but walk in the steps in which he sought to lead you, as consistent Churchmen abiding in the old paths, and as humble believers so keeping close to the Lord Jesus Christ that, through the power of the Holy Ghost given in Him, you may be enabled through His great grace to glorify His name.