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 26th, 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.”