“On Sunday morning, 23rd November, 1879, a solemn memorial service was conducted by the pastor, Rev. A. Raleigh, D.D., suggested by the death of Mrs. Stoughton, on the 11th of November, at Ealing.
“The sermon was based on the passage (2 Cor. v. 9): ‘Willing rather to be absent from the body and to be present with the Lord,’ Dr. Stoughton and his family being among the worshippers. The Church wish, moreover, to record their deep sympathy with Dr. Stoughton, in his sad bereavement, and cherish the memory of Mrs. Stoughton as one who, during her husband’s long pastorate of thirty-two years at Kensington Chapel, co-operated with him in all his work for the heavenly Master, and endeared herself to many as a bright example to the flock.”
I shall be pardoned for the insertion of a single paragraph from the beautiful sermon delivered by Dr. Raleigh on that affecting occasion. It is no less true than beautiful:—
“Fitted by education and culture for any place in social life, it might have been thought by some that she would be among the foremost always in visible activities and good works. She was indeed always active, and was always engaged in doing good; but always as much as possible in silent and unseen ways. She was not one who could say, in view of the many things that might be done by one in her position, of a more or less public kind, ‘therefore being always confident.’ Rather she loved and sought the shade; if a sweet and calm and all-helpful domestic life may be called the shade, to a lady of deep piety and high culture. She strove to make home good and happy, and succeeded; every child following father and mother in Divine ways, and into the Church of God; and then she strove to extend the blessedness to as many other homes as possible. I know not that we could have a much nobler ideal and pattern of a woman’s life. I have it on the best authority, that of a ministerial friend who was like a brother in the house, that many and many a poor minister’s home in the country was made warmer and brighter, and more what home ought to be, by her generous persistence of care for them, and by the gentle importunity of her letters to others on their behalf. Her power of letter-writing was unique; all who were privileged to receive these letters, on any subject, but especially on Divine and spiritual subjects, felt the charm, and valued the more the friendship of one who could write so for God and for men. Her last years were weighted with deepening affliction; yet were they calm and peaceful years to the last. For months she waited on the border land, looking heavenwards, thinking often no doubt of the loved ones who had gone before, and who, as I have been told by one who well knows, often seemed very near to her. The few who saw her felt that they had been nearer heaven by only looking on her face and listening to the few words she might say. These words were words of thankfulness for all past mercies, of humble but firm faith in the Saviour, and of calm, confident hope as to the future.
“These words were found afterwards in her own handwriting:
‘Father, take my hand; quickly and straight
Lead to heaven’s gate Thy child.’‘Quickly and straight,’ even as she desired, the gate was opened; and the Father’s child went in, went home.”
With regard to Dr. Raleigh’s ministry at Kensington, I cannot do better than quote the following words of his beloved wife:—
“There is little to record of the years at Kensington. Like those of his first ministry at Rotherham, they flowed evenly and sweetly; but many hearts hold them as a sacred memory, and to himself they were years of much happiness. He was able to work with vigour, and his people came around him with growing affection. To none was his ministry more dear than to those engaged in direct Christian work. He clasped hands with them as fellow-workers; the fervour of his zeal kindled theirs, and as he spoke of the great harvest to come, earthly honours seemed to grow poor compared with the honour of bearing and sowing the precious seed of God. ‘By kindness, by love unfeigned,’ he won his way to the affections of his people. And he gave them as he had promised, ‘good work,’ work which cost him laborious days, and to which he brought all the treasures of his long experience. His sermons were less ornate, perhaps, than those of an earlier time, but they were more definite in aim, more unencumbered in utterance, as if knowing that his time was short, he had laid ‘aside every weight,’ that the simple truth might have free course. His teaching began to be regarded with quick appreciation, and some of his hearers, men in busy life, acknowledged that ‘the whole week was different and better because of the thoughts with which it was begun.’
“‘These Sundays at Kensington,’ writes one of his people, ‘were times of refreshment from the presence of the Lord. The sound of his fervid utterances of heavenly truth seem still to linger on the ear. We bless God that He sent him to us, and for all the messages of love He enabled him to declare, and for the glimpses of heaven he seemed to open to our sight.’
“Throughout his teaching and in his own heart, the mystic attraction of heaven was always strong. But especially was this a very pronounced feature of his latest ministry. He hardly preached a sermon in which he did not lift up his eyes to the ‘everlasting hills.’
“It is a blessed thing that sin has never effaced the deep home-longings of human hearts, and no words were more welcome than those in which he told of that world, ‘where prayer is answered, and toil is recompensed, and love claims her own.’ Or of ‘the open pathway, stretching upward and afar, for home-going saints and holy angels.’ Or of ‘the banquet’ where, ‘in its earthly beginning we may wet our bread with tears as we eat it, but whence we shall go to the higher and better, God has in reserve, as we pass along to meet all the good of every age, and to see Him in His glory at the banquet, and in the fellowship of heaven.’
“He had himself got to the heavenward side of life. He was as busy as he had ever been, entering fully into the work, thinking and planning about it, as if he were still young, and life all before him, and his interest in public and passing events continued unquenched. Yet, and this is no fancy, a deep peace seemed to have come down upon him, with silent expectancy in it, as if he stood at the meeting-place of the two worlds and took both into his field of vision. The depressions of former years were gone, and but that our ‘eyes were holden’ by a merciful blindness, we might have known that the Master’s coming was at hand.”
The population in South Kensington by this time had enormously increased. The relics of rural life repeatedly noticed in this volume disappeared, and the crowded neighbourhood called for spiritual provision. At a social meeting in January, 1879, a resolution was passed expressive of gratitude for the goodness of God, and of a conviction that the time had come for making a vigorous effort to extend to one of the newly-peopled districts in the neighbourhood some of the privileges which the Church had so long enjoyed; and a year afterwards, at a similar meeting, joy was expressed that a good site had been found in West Kensington, together with a determination to erect on it a chapel worthy of the neighbourhood.
It is sad to record what follows. Dr. Raleigh removed to Kensington at the close of the year 1875, early in 1880 he was laid aside. On the 10th of March he sent to his “Flock and Friends” this touching letter:—
“I must try to write a line to tell you what a great grief it is to me that I am still prevented from meeting you ‘face to face.’ Pain and weariness have been my portion during these last weeks. But God has upheld me by His great goodness, and enabled me to cast all my care upon Him, and to commit all my ways to Him. Indeed, I may say I have but one serious care, the care that arises in my heart when I think of you and of your interests in the Gospel, which I can at present do little or nothing to promote. I know you are being well instructed by other servants of the Master, and that the Chief Shepherd Himself never ceases to have you in His care. Nor can I doubt that this unexpected and undesired illness of your pastor is among the ‘all things’ which may work together for your good. With prayer and patience on your part and on mine it will certainly be so, and our God will supply all our need according to His glorious riches by Christ Jesus.
“I am assured by the deacons, both for themselves and for you, that I may go on in the use of the best means for recovery with a quiet mind, and in the confidence that you will willingly and prayerfully wait for my restoration to strength, and for what—if God graciously gives it—will certainly be to me, even more than to you, a happy return to my work. Of course all waiting of this kind must have reasonable limits; but I think you may be assured that I am not likely to forget them. I thank God that I have so much reason to wish, I hope before very long, to be able to put my hand again to a work which, in some ways at least, has prospered so well. That this our mutual desire may be accomplished, I cast myself with confidence on your sympathy; and still more earnestly I make appeal to you for your prayers, that I may be kept in unfailing trust, and that I may be restored to you the sooner.
“And for you, dear brethren, with all my heart I commend you to God and to the word of His grace, which is able to build you up and to give you an inheritance among all them that are sanctified. The Shepherd of Israel have you in His care.
“The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.”
Dr. Raleigh’s last hours are thus described by his wife in her beautiful memoirs of him:—
“Throughout the night of 17th April he was very restless, and said, ‘I have not been able for two days to think any religious thoughts, but I know that I am His.’ When the morning came (Sunday) his countenance wore the changed look we learn to know too well, and he spoke of his departure as at hand, as indeed he felt it was. His wife, wishing as usual to send a message to be read to his people, asked him what it should be. He hesitated, saying, ‘I do not want to alarm them, and it looks as if I were of such importance if I send a message.’ He consented, however, and dictated a few words. Many things were talked over, and last words spoken during the day. The wrench of parting was still hard to him, and the spring sunshine seemed too glad for dying eyes. ‘Everything is as bright as if I were well,’ he said; but looked an earnest assent when reminded that in this lay the hidden promise of a better spring-time. Some food being brought him, of which he tried in vain to partake, he put it gently aside, saying, ‘The Bread of Life is near.’ Again: ‘I should like to go to-day; it is my day.’ His whispered words to his children; his expressed thoughts and cares about their future; his last looks of love and welcome, are laid up in the sacred silence of the heart ‘till the day dawn.’
“As the evening drew on he became restless with the restlessness so common at the approach of death. The weary spirit, finding home no longer in the dissolving body, was struggling to break the chain and enter into the life of liberty. The eyes, always so responsive to the light, grew dim, unconsciousness fell gradually over him, and before we knew it he was away beyond reach of loving word or touch of ours; but we believe he was not beyond the reach of higher ministries. As the long night passed, and the slow dawn found him still waiting at the gate, perhaps there came to his spirit the first whispers of heavenly fellowship. Perhaps ‘Jesus Himself drew near and went with him.’ Shortly after noon on Monday, 19th of April, 1880, he entered calmly into rest.”