Part 2

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.

II. SERMON BY REV. W. May, M.A. _Sunday Afternoon_, _February_ 26_th_, 1888.

2 Kings ii. 5: “_Knowest thou that the Lord will take away thy master from thy head to-day_? _and he answered_, _Yea_, _I know it_, _hold ye your peace_.”

WOULD not an empty pulpit to-day have been the most effective sermon? The voice which for thirty-four years has spoken to you from this place, so faithfully, so fervently, so wisely, and with the eloquence always of love—that voice is silent. There was once “silence in heaven about the space of half-an-hour;” and a still silence might be a speaking testimony here, to him who on Wednesday week was ministering in this church, and the Wednesday after was called home—a testimony to the life which he led, to the truths which he taught, and the precious fragrance of loving words and deeds which he has left behind. It seems as if God Himself were dealing with us, too closely almost for human intervention; dealing with our consciences, our memories, our hearts. The Lord has taken away our master from our head to-day. Should we not hold our peace? Ought we not to be dumb and open not our mouth, because He is acting? Should we not in thought and imagination go in and stand before our Master, judging ourselves that we be not judged of the Lord, accounting to Him for the way we have dealt with His servant, and then, convicted every one of us—as well we may be, the preacher first—by our own conscience, go out one by one, saying, “How dreadful is this place: this is none other but the House of God, and this is the gate of heaven.” For a gate of heaven truly it is. It has been the gate of heaven for twenty-five years to the speaker, and but for words spoken at this gate, God only knows whether he would be able to-day to subscribe with his hand unto the Lord and say, “I am His.” Sermons reckoned by the thousand, full of sacred truth, full of sanctified common sense, full of marked originality, full of “power and love and of a sound mind”—these have to be accounted for.

And his prayers, public and private—prayers put up for us on every possible occasion—effectual fervent prayers of a righteous man standing ever in thought and feeling in the presence of God, and in the sweet, bracing, healthful atmosphere of unfeigned love to man, these are responsibilities which none can evade.

What a true pastor he was! what a faithful friend! what a saintly servant! what a large-hearted man! Which of us but has had proof, nay, countless proofs of his loving-kindness? Which of us could ever have succeeded, even if we had wished, in making that man our enemy? Oh! brethren, tears may well be in our hearts to-day—well may we weep for ourselves and for our children, weep because he is gone, weep because not one of us appreciated him enough, prayed for him enough, loved him enough, while he was still here. Oh! but he was a pastor who pressed his dear people to his heart, and then bore them up on that large heart of his before his divine Master,—every one of us, and our needs were continually in his mind. And now the Master has need of _him_, and has come and called him away; and, after a short and comparatively easy passage, he has forded the river, and gone up the shining path, and we stand alone and cry, “My father, my father, the chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof,” and we see him no more.

And yet he would not have us silent to-day. He would bid us encourage ourselves, encourage one another in the Lord. He would exhort us to preach the Word. He would remind us that the time is short, and beseech us to buy up the opportunity. Let us do it, checking our tears. Did not we hear only yesterday that word of Christ, “Whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die”? Is there then loss to-day of any man’s _life_ amongst us, or only of the ship? “Not lost, but gone before,” is that life, if the word of Christ be true. Our pastor “is not dead, but sleepeth.” The ship is broken by the violence of the waves, but all the _life_ is “safe to land.” The casket is shattered, but the precious jewel is in the hand, nay, in the very bosom of the Saviour. “He is not dead, but sleepeth.” _Dead_ four days? Nay, but _alive_, with a life far brighter and keener and more joyous than he ever had on earth! He sleeps well, and presently the Lord of life will say, “I go that I may awake him out of sleep.” And how near that day-dawn, that awaking time may be, the morning of the resurrection, when the dead in Christ shall rise first. Meanwhile, the voice that speaks to us from that farther shore, aye, and will speak “till thought and memory flee”—that voice saith in death, when it cannot be silent, what it would have hesitated in its humility to say in life: “Be ye followers of me, even as I am of Christ.” And so we call upon the Holy Ghost, the Spirit of the Living God and of Jesus, and offer this prayer—

“Refining fire, go through my heart, Illuminate my soul; Scatter Thy life through every part, And sanctify the whole.

“My steadfast soul from falling free, Shall then no longer move, And Christ be all in all to me, And all my heart be love.”

Turn we now from our dear master who has been taken away to that Master, still more dear, that perfect Master, “chiefest among ten thousand, and altogether lovely,” who remains. _They_ fail, but _Thou_ remainest. Human friends, comforters, pastors forsake us, but Thou, O Christ, art with us all the days even unto the end. Even an Elijah, that chief of the prophets, had to go up and stand before his Master. But we, beloved, have a kingdom which cannot be moved, and a kingly Master who cannot die. He, “the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever, is able to keep us from falling. He shall preserve us blameless, and present us faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy.”

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Earth and heaven are not very far apart. When we stand at the foot of the ladder with the ascending and descending angels, when we sit at the feet of Jesus, some down here, some up there, but _all_, all for ever at His feet, and all, all for ever in His hand, and every one of us receiving of His words—when this is so, beloved, heaven draws very near to earth, and earth to heaven; and when the gate opens to receive some loved one in, we can almost hear the music and the singing. There is just this difference and distinction: here on earth we are labouring to enter into rest; there they are resting in the midst of joyful labour, being so close to their King. _We_ might be closer than we are, and thus have more “days of heaven upon earth.”

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And now, feeling sure on this occasion of your forbearance and sympathy, I add a few things which may interest you concerning our earthly master, father, teacher, friend, taken from our head to-day by the Lord.

His knowledge of Scripture was wonderful, was it not? and his memory for quotation—not the words only, but chapter and verse—up to the very last, after ten years of total blindness.

His knowledge too of that piece of intricate and, alas! disordered mechanism, the human heart, was remarkable. How his sermons turned us inside out, so to speak, but all loving, wise, and persuasive, leading us to Christ and to comfort.

The wondrous mixture in his disposition and character of thorough humanity and great spirituality—of manliness, vigour and cheerfulness, with a very tender, sympathising heart! How he could turn at once, and without causing any jar to our feelings, or any sense of discrepancy in his action, from the brightest play of mirth and humour to fervent, pleading prayer. How _real_ and transparent he was, both as a man and a Christian!

There is another thing I desire to mention. “When the messengers of John were departed, Jesus began to speak unto the people concerning John: What went ye out into the wilderness to see, a reed shaken with the wind? . . . a man clothed in soft raiment? . . . a prophet?” You remember that _that_, on Sunday week, was the text your dear pastor last preached from; and what reply can we give to that question as regards himself? Was he a fickle, changeable man, “a reed shaken with the wind”? Was he a man living delicately, surrounding himself with luxury, and not rather a man given to self-denial, rising very early in the morning, winter and summer, and depriving himself of comforts, almost of necessaries, for the sake of his beloved poor?

“But what went ye out for to see, a prophet?” Yea, and a true prophet concerning the things of God. If you know not now, the day is coming when “ye _shall_ know that there has been a prophet among you.” For myself, I desire this once publicly to testify that I have never heard a sermon from his lips (and I have heard many) or spent half-an-hour in his company (and I have spent many), without gaining conscious benefit to my soul.

Can any of you who heard it, forget that last sermon of his on Sunday week? Did you mark the look of holy joy in his dear face, as he portrayed the eager readiness of the Baptist for martyrdom, a martyrdom which would solve his last doubt, deliver him from his last sin, free him from his last infirmity, and place before his opened eyes the face of the King? Yes, on Wednesday morning _his_ eyes looked upon Jesus, who for long years _had_ looked on no man. “He has received his sight, and followed Jesus in the way.”

But are you aware that he had proposed to return to the subject of John the Baptist? that very shortly before his translation (for it was translation rather than death), that verse was constantly in his thoughts: “John did no miracle, but all things that John spake of this man were true” (John x. 41). Well, all I can say is of our beloved friend and pastor, if _he_ did no miracle, _God_ did many miracles by him. Who shall reckon up the number of precious souls saved, cheered, taught, strengthened, made meet for the Master’s use by means of him who now rests from his labours, but whose works _do_, yea, and _shall_ follow him. One thing, I believe, eternity will show—not that your minister was a perfect minister or a perfect man; he had his faults, his mistakes, his sins—but this is what eternity will show, and oh! the weight of responsibility it lays on _all_ of us: “_The things which Francis Storr spake of Jesus Christ were true_.”

Yet once more. With special prayer and consideration, he drew up for this winter a Course of Wednesday Evening Lectures. Two only, out of the twelve, were delivered. The subject of the third was announced, as usual, in church for the following Wednesday, but the address was not given. And what _was_ the subject? “By it, he being dead, yet speaketh;” “and when he had said this, he fell asleep.” What does that word _it_ refer to—“by it, he being dead, yet speaketh”? Abel’s sacrifice, type of Christ’s, which Abel looked at and God accepted. To the worth of that atoning sacrifice Abel testified, your pastor testified, in life, unto death, and for ever. The lecture was not delivered. His death, not his living voice, was to declare it, for we had the text, and the text only, “and when he had said this, he fell asleep.”

Do you remember, brethren, the last time we all met—he, and you, and I, for prayer and praise and conference at the opening of the year, in that well-loved school-room—do you remember that the speaker was led to quote these lines?—

“The great and terrible wilderness of famine and of drought Lies in the shadow behind me, for the Lord hath brought me out; The great and terrible river, though shrouded still from view, Lies in the shadow before me, but the Lord will bring me through.”

Now he has reached that river, and crossed it, Christ and he—the Master and his beloved disciple. “They two went on;” “they two went over.”

“So they passed over quickly towards the goal, But the wistful, loving gaze of the parting soul Grew only more rapt and joyful as he held his Master’s hand; Methinks or ever he was aware, they were come to the Holy Land.”

And so his favourite oft-repeated text, “Or ever I was aware, my soul made me like the chariots of Ammi-nadib” (Song Sol. vi. 12), was fulfilled. Literally, the words are, “Or ever I was aware, my soul set me on the chariots of my willing people.” Ah! these were “the chariots of Israel and the horsemen thereof,” which raised his spirits and lifted him heavenward, while he was still down here, _his people_ “_made willing in the day of God’s power_.” Beloved, we may raise him higher yet! we may gladden his heart still! we may cause his reward to grow exceedingly, we may yet give him souls for his hire, seals to his ministry! Shall we not hear him to-day, dead yet speaking, beseeching us on this his first Sabbath in heaven, to carry on and carry out the work God permitted him to do among us? “If there is therefore any comfort in Christ, if any consolation of love, if any fellowship of the Spirit, if any tender mercies and compassions, _fulfil ye my joy_!” (Phil. ii. 1, R. V.).

That we may do it, let us give earnest heed to the prayer of our master’s Christ, for the answer is not doubtful: “While I was with them in the world, I kept them in Thy name. . . . and now come I to Thee, and these things I speak. . . . _that they might have my joy fulfilled in themselves_,” (John xvii. 12, 13).

III. NOTES OF THE LAST SERMON PREACHED BY REV. F. STORR, M.A., _February_ 12, 1888.

Matthew xi. 9, 10: “_But what went ye out for to see_? _A prophet_? _Yea_, _I say unto you_, _and more than a prophet_. _For this is he of whom it is written_, _Behold_, _I send my messenger before thy face_, _which shall prepare thy way before thee_.”

I PROPOSE to you for your own reading and meditation and self-examination during the season of Lent the life and history of John the Baptist. Seek out all the special passages which allude to him, and pass them not lightly over, and see and mark the great reformer, still more the great forerunner. That which may be done at any time is too often not done at all; thus our Church has wisely set before us certain seasons for meditation on certain subjects.

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Some do not approve of services in unconsecrated buildings. I confess it seems to me that such are not very assiduous in their attendance in consecrated buildings! No, we want a heart for these services; we want the Holy Spirit to make us know that we are dying creatures—that we must all stand before the Judgment-seat of Christ. “It is high time to awake out of sleep” (Rom. xiii. 11).

Glance at the leading features of John’s life:—

1. Self-discipline.

2. The Witness.

3. The closing scene of his life.

1. If you notice particularly Matt, iii., Luke i., John iii. (towards the end of the chapter), Luke iii., Mark vi., you will have before you the comprehensive features of John the Baptist’s life. Let me direct you to his credentials. This is the man who was prophesied of seven centuries before the coming of the Lord, not in Isaiah xl. only, but in Malachi iv. 5. He went into the wilderness, the less inhabited country. He probably had tried Jerusalem; it is not unlikely that he had consorted with the learned Jews. He found little encouragement, it may be. Then he cast himself on the Lord—HE never disappoints. We shall ever and anon (God grant always) cast ourselves on Him—there is no disappointment there. The world disappoints, friends disappoint, there is very much disappointment in our own hearts. God never disappoints.