Edward Hoare, M.A.: A record of his life based upon a brief autobiography

by Edward Hoare

I never can forget one fearful Sunday morning, when it was bitterly cold and blowing such a north-easterly gale as it can blow at Ramsgate, before church I went on to the cliff to see what was going on, and there opposite the mouth of the harbour I saw one ship sunk, not very far from the entrance of the harbour, with its crew clinging to the masts. Our brave hovellers were doing all they could for their rescue, and I saw another smaller vessel, “with sails ripped, seams opened wide, compass lost,” struggling if possible to make the harbour. Oh, how I longed to run down and take my part in the efforts that were being made for their rescue! and I cannot answer for my thoughts during the time that I was obliged to be at church. No sooner was the service over than I was again on the cliff, and not a trace could I see of the sunken ship or crowded mast. It had fallen before any help could reach the poor fellows who were clinging to it, and all hands had been lost; but the little sloop was just entering the harbour, and I cannot describe the scene I witnessed when I went on board. There were five poor fellows completely worn out, wearied, hungry, cold, and frost-bitten, and I never shall forget the master of that vessel. As long as he was in the harbour I had a great deal of most happy intercourse with him, and in the course of it he gave me the following narrative of his voyage.

He said he had one very dear friend, the mate of a collier brig, and they were together at Sunderland. His friend came to him in the evening of Christmas, and they had a delightful evening together, till at length his friend returned to his ship, and both vessels sailed for the South. All went well with him till he reached the mouth of the Thames, where he was caught by the gale and took shelter behind the long sand; but after a time the wind shifted, and his position became one of the utmost danger. He found his only hope of escape was to pass by the end of the sand, and he doubted whether this would be possible, and he knew that if once stranded on it he must be lost without a hope. The first thing was to hoist a sail, but in order to do this they had to clear the ropes of ice with their axe. They then hauled in the anchor, and the little vessel was soon in the midst of the boiling surf. The master himself took the helm, and said to the crew that their only help was in God, and bade them come and kneel around him while he steered and prayed. Very soon a huge wave appeared to lift the little ship right upon the bank, and let her down with a fearful scrape upon the sands. A second followed, which did the same, and then came the third, which seemed to carry them with still greater fury than either of the others; but when it let them down, what was their joy when they found that the spur of the bank was passed, and that their vessel was safely afloat. Their Heavenly Father had heard their prayers and saved them. But though immediate danger was past, everything was so shattered that the ship was almost unmanageable, and they were driven about in the Channel for some three or four days before they could reach Ramsgate Harbour.

And what was the sorrow that awaited my excellent friend when he found himself safe. As he entered the harbour he passed through the wreckage of the vessel I had seen before church, but when he learnt the particulars he found that it was the ship of that dear friend with whom he had spent that happy Christmas evening, and that he was one of those who had perished in the wreck. But in the midst of it all he was kept in a calm, hallowed, peaceful communion with God, which proved indeed how the Lord sitteth above the waterflood, when the Lord can give peace unto His people.

It was one of the sorrows connected with Ramsgate that we seldom saw those brave men a second time. So my friend stayed awhile till his ship was refitted and his men cured of their frostbites, but the wind shifted and she was gone, so that we parted never more to meet till we stand together before the throne of the Lord.

Another great object of interest at Ramsgate was the conflict with Rome. I had had some little experience in the controversy when at Richmond, as a zealous man had given some controversial lectures there in favour of Romanism, and so compelled me to get up the subject. This had led me to preach a course of Sunday Evening Lectures, which I afterwards published under the title of “Our Protestant Church.” I have had reason to believe, with great thanksgiving, that God has made them useful to others, as, I thank God, He made the study of the subject exceedingly useful to myself. I remember a remark of Dr. McNeile, that nothing tended more to set forth the glories of the Gospel than the dark background of Popery.

At Ramsgate the conflict was in full activity. A chapel had been recently erected through the liberality of Mr. Pugin, and the Roman Catholic party had all the enthusiasm of a new and hopeful enterprise; so we were soon brought into collision, sometimes in private conversation, and sometimes in public lectures, in which I freely invited any one who could to answer me.

And there are four lessons which I learnt and which possibly may be useful to my brethren. Firstly, the Romish controversy does not require a great amount of learning. The Romanists themselves are exceedingly ill-instructed in the principles of their Church, and there are very few points on which their convictions rest. Secondly, it is of essential importance to be perfectly accurate in every statement made and every quotation given, so as to be able, if need be, to give proof of that accuracy. Thirdly, it is essential that all quotations should be made direct from the original documents, and not taken second-hand from any Review, Catechism, or Handbook. Those books may be extremely useful for our own instruction, but they are worse than useless if we are in conflict with a Romish controversialist; if we wish to be strong on such an occasion we must appeal to the “ipsissima verba” of some authoritative document, such as the decrees of the Council of Trent, or the Creed of Pope Pius IV. Fourthly, we must bear in mind that numbers of those who are led away by Rome are truly and conscientiously seeking peace. I believe that there is no state of mind so open to the persuasions of Rome as when a person is awakened but not at peace in Christ Jesus. It is then that Rome steps in with a promise of peace, and the more earnest the awakening, the more dangerous the seductive power.

I had one fearful instance of this at Ramsgate, in the family of one of our tradesmen, who had taken sittings in my church. I heard one day that his daughter was in habitual attendance at the Roman Catholic chapel. So I went at once to pay a pastoral visit to the mother, and she confirmed all that I had heard, and more than that, she told me that on the Sunday following her daughter was to be publicly received into the Church, and that her dress was already prepared. “Oh,” I said, “how I wish I could see her before she joins!” and I invited her to come to me that evening at eight o’clock. The mother said she would give my message, but did not think it very likely that her daughter would come.

However, at eight o’clock precisely the bell rang, and the daughter was there. She was a woman between thirty and forty years of age, fine features, and strong in intellectual expression of countenance. She confirmed all that her mother had told me, and when I asked her what had led to it, she informed me that she was engaged to a young man of very superior position to her own, that when walking together one evening the year before they had turned into Christ Church, and there heard a sermon that had made them both so uneasy that neither of them had ever been happy since. They were afraid to go again, for fear that their trouble should be increased; so they had wandered hither and thither, seeking rest and finding none, till at length somebody told them that if they only joined the Church of Rome they would be at peace. She added that the young man had joined already, and that she hoped to be received on the Sunday following, when she trusted that both their hearts would be at rest.

It was clear that the poor thing was really anxious about her soul, so instead of saying one word to her about the Romish controversy, I asked her the question, “Must you be holy first, or forgiven first?” She was very much surprised and almost affronted by my asking her anything of so simple a character. “Of course I know that,” said she. “I daresay you do, but it will do you no harm to tell me what you know.” “Of course I must be holy first,” was the reply. “Then there is the secret of all your difficulty: you have been for the whole year striving to be holy, and you have utterly failed, so that you have had no peace, and could have no peace in the forgiveness of sin.” “Do you mean to say then,” said she, “that I can be forgiven first?” I said, “That is exactly what the Scripture teaches,” and I set before her a series of passages, showing first how the forgiveness is bestowed through the perfect propitiation of the Son of God, and then how it is granted at once, before the fruits of faith can possibly be developed. The poor thing was amazed, and I believe that that very evening, before she left the house, she was enabled to trust her blessed Saviour for the present perfect forgiveness of all her sins.