This was indeed a very heavy blow to me, and I rode home that day solemnised in spirit, and thinking how I should tell my dearest wife what her father had just said to me.
It was a very solemn and sacred ride that I had that morning, but on my arrival, before I went upstairs to her, I opened my letters that had arrived during my absence, and almost the first one was from my friend John Plumptre, in which he said that he was one of the trustees of a new church nearly complete at Ramsgate, and it would be a great satisfaction to him and his colleagues if I would undertake the first Incumbency. To describe the mixed emotion with which I went upstairs to tell my wife, both of her father’s opinion and Mr. Plumptre’s letter, is impossible.
But the remarkable coincidence did not at first thoroughly satisfy the sound judgment of my friend Mr. Venn. When I spoke to him on the subject, he said that the text which had guided him in his important decisions was Prov. xvi. 3: “Commit thy works unto the Lord, and thy thoughts shall be established.” He said that at first he would frequently be divided and perplexed in judgment, but that as he went on waiting on the Lord for guidance and trusting Him, the whole matter would gradually appear to him so clear that it left no possibility of doubt. How often, acting upon his advice, have I found it true, so that I have seen my way perfectly clear in cases in which there seemed at first nothing but perplexity! Was not this the secret of that singular wisdom which he showed in the affairs of the C.M.S.? and is there any one who sat with him habitually in the committee room who does not remember the frequency with which he put his hand over his eyes, without doubt “committing his works unto the Lord”? But his thoughts, which were as mine, were established with reference to our removal to Ramsgate, and we never had reason to regret the change.
Letter to his Uncle Cunningham:—
“Hampstead, November 28th, 1844.
“My dear Uncle,—I quite agree with you that it is a bad thing never to write to those we love. Real good, strong affection can stand the long lack of communication, as strong plants can stand a long drought, but it is an unwise thing to put it to the test. . . .
“I fully sympathise in what you say of the Church. I can imagine nothing more deplorable than the foolish men, both curates and bishops, scattering the very best of the laity from her fold, and all for their empty, worthless baubles. Oh, what a blessing it would have been for our Church and country if people had spent half the strength in lifting the Cross and spreading the Bible that they have wasted over surplices and ubrics! But it is not mere waste. As far as I can see, it is downright suicide, a wilful destruction of the Church’s influence over her people. But do you not think God is teaching us a lesson? Are not His waiting children taught by all this to rally round their risen and reigning Lord, and to cease from man whose breath is in his nostrils? Is not the Church always exposed either to pressure from without or delusion within? And are not those the two great instruments by which He keeps His elect people pure? Oh, may God grant that we may be amongst the Lamb’s faithful followers! . . .
“In our parish we have had but little visible encouragement since our return from Norfolk. Before we went out we were blessed with several interesting cases, but since our return we have not known of one. It is a great sorrow to me. I hope, however, the Lord is really owning His word. We are desiring to honour Him and to set forth Christ crucified, and though our labours are most miserable, I delight to think that from the inmost soul it is our desire to honour Christ in them. I have just finished a course of four practical sermons on the Bible, in which I found great interest, and am now preparing another course for Advent on the following subjects: How our Lord will come; when; what to do; and what we should be doing till He comes. Our prophetical meeting this November was one of the most delightful hours I ever knew. It was so sober, so serious, so practical, and so full of Christ that I think all felt it a time of true blessing to be there. I never heard anything more completely to my mind than the addresses of Mr. Auriol and Mr. Goodhart on the ‘practical bearing of the expectation of future reward.’ . . .
“Your most affectionate Nephew,
“Edward Hoare.”
Autobiography (continued).
The position was one of the greatest possible interest. The circumstances of the town were quite peculiar. The Vicar of St. George was a High Churchman who did not hesitate to employ curates who went far beyond himself in their opinions, and the result was that two of them went over to Rome. There was an amiable man in Trinity Church who had no sympathy with St. George’s, but yet had but little power in satisfying the hearts of those who loved the Gospel, and the result was that many of the most devoted people in the place were driven either into the dissenting chapels or into general unsettlement of mind. Meanwhile Mr. Pugin [98] was erecting a large establishment on the West Cliff, and the chapel was already opened, and an active priest at work amongst the distracted and unsettled flock.
Then it was that God raised up a very remarkable man with wonderful energy to erect the new church. He formed a small committee, but he himself was the moving spirit and the one centre of power. He was a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, with no general acquaintance and nothing of what the world calls influence, but he was God’s powerful instrument. I refer to Lieutenant (afterwards Commander) Hutchinson, R.N. As he knew nothing of Church matters, he wisely took counsel with Mr. Plumptre, who put him in communication with some London lawyer, I forget who, who might direct him in the use of what was then called the Church Building Act; so he served the proper notices on the Vicar and patrons, and having secured to trustees the patronage of the new church which he proposed to build, he set to work single-handed to raise the funds and to complete the undertaking. He wrote countless manuscript letters all over England. He was a man of wonderful energy, as he afterwards proved by reducing Balaclava to good order, and all that energy he devoted with unsparing zeal to the great work to which God had called him. How many letters he wrote I do not know; I know that I received several. His first letter would be a general application; if that brought him a contribution, it would be quickly followed by another rejoicing that the work was so much appreciated, and asking for a second gift; but if it brought no reply, then came a second convinced that the only reason for delay was the great importance of the work, and earnestly appealing for the help which he was sure was contemplated. Thus letter followed letter in quick succession; the contract was signed on his own responsibility, and Christ Church was quickly reared as a monument to show what might be done by one man whose heart was in earnest, and who, like Mr. Venn, “committed his works unto the Lord.”
It is not to be supposed that these letters written were in a very complimentary strain with reference to the existing order of things in the Parish Church, nor were they likely to make Christ Church acceptable in the eyes of the Vicar or his staff. I myself went to the Parish Church in the afternoon previous to the opening of Christ Church, and I heard a sermon descriptive of the persons who would attend the new church, upon the text “He went away in a rage,” and I there heard my future congregation all classed with Naaman. But apparently there were a great many such Naamans in Ramsgate, for the church was well filled on the 7th of August, the day when it was consecrated by Archbishop Howley, and I may say has been so ever since.
I found Ramsgate to be a most interesting sphere of ministry. There were three great sources of interest. First, the shipping. My original Pakefield interest in the English boatmen was more than revived by my acquaintance with the “hovellers,” two hundred of whom were dependent for their bread on helping ships in difficulty off the Goodwin Sands. I fear that some of them thought more of their own earnings than they did of the lives they were so brave in saving. I can never forget the reply that I received from one of the best of them when I asked him one bitterly cold winter’s morning how he was getting on; upon which he replied that now they had got all their lights, and buoys, and chain cables, there was nothing left for an honest man to do. He said: “There we were at the south end of the sands about three o’clock this morning, when up came one of these foreign chaps, and was running as pretty upon the Goodwin Sands as ever you’d wish to see, when, all of a sudden, he saw one of these here nasty staring buoys—port helm and off!”