Memorials of Francis Storr: Sermons

by Edward Hoare; Rev. W. May

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.