Memorials of Francis Storr: Sermons

Transcribed from the 1888 William Rice edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org
SERMONS BY Rev. Canon HOARE, AND Rev. W. MAY,
Preached in Brenchley Church , 26 February , 1888 .
ALSO
NOTES OF THE LAST SERMON PREACHED BY Rev. F. STORR, 12 February , 1888 .
LONDON: WILLIAM RICE, 86 FLEET STREET, E.C.
On Saturday, February 25th, the mortal remains of the Rev. Francis Storr, for thirty-four years Vicar of the parish, were buried in the beautiful churchyard of Brenchley. The snow lay thick upon the ground, but the sun shone bright in heaven, and the outward scene symbolised and reflected the feelings of the mourners—the blank sorrow of a bereaved parish, and the rejoicing that the last prayer of their beloved pastor had been granted, and that he had been summoned home before increasing years had necessitated that resignation of his work and ministry which would have been to him a living death.
Born in 1808, and educated at Harrow and Queen’s College, Oxford, he entered the ministry in 1833 as curate of Up-Waltham, in Sussex, where he often exchanged pulpits with Archdeacon (now Cardinal) Manning. In 1837, he was appointed to the rectory of Otley in Suffolk, through the instrumentality of the present Bishop of Norwich, who, with a conscientiousness which was in those days rarer than now, refused himself to hold two livings. The parish had never before had a resident incumbent. A dilapidated and empty church was speedily restored and filled. The young preacher with his striking presence, clear voice, and impassioned delivery, attracted a congregation not only from his own parish, but from the neighbouring villages, where in those days such preaching was unknown, so that hearers from twenty-three different parishes have been counted at one Otley service.
In 1846, he was presented by Lord Tollemache, who as a near neighbour had seen and appreciated his work at Otley, to the living of Acton, in Cheshire. Acton is a large and straggling agricultural parish, but with the help of curates and district visitors, he soon got to know each household almost as intimately as in the village of Otley, and any one in trouble, whether of mind or body, instinctively turned to the Vicarage. Acton was one of the first parishes, if not the first parish, to give up generally the practice of Sunday cheese-making. Till, at his instigation, the experiment was tried, it had been pronounced by farmers an impossibility. After eight years of incessant labour (he was hardly absent as many Sundays from his parish), the declining health of his wife compelled him to move southward, and he was appointed to the living of Brenchley, vacant by the death of the Rev. R. Davies, Secretary of the C.M.S., whose widow some years later became his second wife. The special work of his predecessor was carried on by him with ever-increasing zeal and success, and, whereas in 1848 Brenchley had scarcely heard of the C.M.S., in 1887 the contribution from the parish amounted to over £300. Part of this sum came from outside friends who knew that the most acceptable birthday present they could make to the Vicar was a subscription to his favourite Society, but the larger proportion was given in sixpences and coppers. It must not be supposed that this preference made him overlook other claims, or ignore other charitable societies. In particular, the London City Mission, the Flower Mission, and the Bible Society were very near his heart. As for the wants of his own parishioners, he not only gave profusely himself, but he was indefatigable in urging their claims on all who could or would give. He was, I believe, the first incumbent in Kent to remit, without solicitation, a percentage of the tithe. Latterly, in hop-gardens where no hops were picked, the tithe was wholly remitted, and no farmer who was in real straits was ever pressed for payment. For labourers out of work, work was somehow made or found. Thus, during the last winter, as many as thirty at a time were employed by him in road-making. Endless similar charities might be recorded, and still more were done in secret and unknown; but these would wholly fail to represent “that best portion of a good man’s life, his little nameless unremembered acts of kindness and of love.” His utter unselfishness and his quick power of sympathy endeared him to an ever-widening circle of friends. He never lost sight of any he had known, and all, whether rich or poor, knew that, if content with simple fare, they would be welcome visitors at the Vicarage.