Transcription of Article in the Primitive Methodist Magazine by Rev. J.T. Horne
The historian, Kendall, bears witness that our zealous Missionaries adopted such means as other churches shrank from employing. Our traditions show that singing and preaching in the streets, the market-places, the highways and fields, aroused the masses who attended no place of worship, and indeed, were not accessible except by open-air preaching. The singing of those good old melodies, “Christ He sits on Zion’s hill”; “Come, oh! come, thou vilest sinner”; “Stop, poor sinner, stop and think”; “Turn to the Lord and seek salvation,” etc., aroused those whom a more refined order of things would have repelled; and enabled them to plant their standard while many were wondering at their audacity, and win souls to Christ while many tried to show they were in error. Take this speech, given in the Somerset dialect at a public meeting, showing the entrance of our church into Radstock. After considerable reluctance the speaker began :
“Christian friends, I’ve got a text, my text is, Who’d a’ thought it? It is now somewhere about six and twenty years since the Primitive Methodists came into Radstock, We were told the week before that the Ranters were coming on the Sunday. So l kept saying to myself, I wonder what sort of things the Ranters be. So I went down into Radstock for to see, and soon I saw some folk coming down Frome Hill, with broad brim hats on, and flitch of bacon coats, and umbrellas under their arms; and they were singing, ‘l’m bound for the kingdom.’ Then Mr. Chairman, I knew that Ranters were men and women, just like myself. So they sang all down the road until they came to the direction post; and there they sang and prayed, and read and preached, and when they had done they asked if anybody would open his house to hold a prayer meeting in. There is George James sitting there, Mr. Chairman; he was a poor scatter-brained fellow like me, so he went up and told them they might have his house, if they liked; and so they did. Who’d a’ thought it? The next Sunday they came again; and after they had preached, they went to George James’ house again, and after they had sung and prayed, they said they would form a class, and asked if anybody would give in their names. So George James said, ‘You may take my name if you like,’ and so they did. Who’d a’ thought it? So they took down a lot of names. At last George James said, ‘Jack Withers, don’t you mean to have your name on that paper?’ And I said, ‘ You may put it down if you like’; and then they talked to me, and the great big tears came out of my eyes, and rolled down my face; so then they sang with me, but I didn’t get happy. But who’d a’ thought it? Before I got home somebody went up and told my wife that I had joined the Ranters: so when I came home my wife met me at the door with a dish of boiling hot potatoes, and she flung them in my face, dish and all, and then said that I should not come in the house that day. So I turned and went down through the wood, and on the tram road; and by the water-side was growing an old ash pollard. I climbed up to the top of it, and there I cried and prayed. And it began to thunder and lighten and rain; but there I stayed, and kept crying and praying. And there God heard me, and there He blotted out all my sins; and then I sang and shouted ‘Hallelujah,’ because God had converted my soul on the top of the old ash pollard. And who’d a’ thought it? Well Mr. Chairman, George James’ house would not hold all the folks, so he pulled down the partition, and threw his two rooms into one; but it soon became too small, and we were obliged to get a larger place. Then Mr. Chairman, we went and missioned Palton, Charlton, Farmborough, Clandown, High Littleton, New Buildings, Camerton, and ever so many more places; and we formed classes in all of them. And who’d a’ thought it? When you came with us, Mr. Chairman, we had only one chapel in the circuit, and that was at New Buildings, but now we have chapels at Chearton, Timsbury, Zingle Hill, and here we are in one at Palton, and here am I making a speech in it. Who’d a’ thought it? And now, Mr. Chairman, we have four classes at Radstock instead of one; and among the poor, wicked sinners who are members is Jim Morgan, the fiddler, and his brother Joe, the ratcatcher. Who’d a’ thought it? Christian friends, this is the first speech I have ever made in all my life, so you’ll excuse all I have said amiss. ‘But who’d a’ thought it?”
Such expressions sound very strangely on our ears to-day, but there was a time when every word was a live coal, a piece of the general fire and light of our Church life. And there is still light in such quaint expressions, to those who have eyes to see, because they show human souls in their upward struggles from the “horrible pit and the miry clay,” into which they had fallen. May we not regard such records as belonging to the literature of the ages? They are old and strange stories, revealing the working of the Divine Spirit upon peculiar types of character. We get glimpses of the beginnings of religious life in such persons, and our interest is awakened as we watch how that life shapes itself in its growth. If we could only gather from various sources a sufficient number of such facts, and thus increase our knowledge concerning these persons and then let the facts fall into various combinations, they would naturally interpret each other, and we should see the old characters in shadowy outline; we should better comprehend their spiritual experiences; and certainly read the facts of their history in larger and fresher terms, as we groped amongst the fibrous roots of our modern Church institutions.
The Missioners were speedily confronted with the problem of providing places where they could gather their converts; and its solution taxed their strength, and brought into manifold and beneficent activity all their powers. The infant Church, leaping into life full armed and victorious, went far to make twice one, not into two, but two hundred, aye two thousand; for in all parts of Staffordshire, Derbyshire, Cheshire, and the adjoining counties churches sprang into being, holding services in cottages, barns, stables, cart-sheds, and all likely and unlikely places. There is nothing like this in all the annals of fiction. The difficulties were sometimes overcome by the native wit and sublime audacity of the workers, as the following story tells.
A local preacher obtained the promise of a site on which to build a chapel, from a nobleman living in his locality. A long time passed without any progress being made in the conveyance of the land, and old John becoming impatient determined to call upon his Grace, to ascertain the cause of the delay. In company with the travelling preacher, he went to the castle, where they first saw the Steward, who told them hedid not approve of their having the ground, and if he were the duke, it should not be granted; to which John replied, “Thank God thou art not the duke.” Having gained access to his Grace, John said, “Well, duke, how are you to-day?” Knowing his man, the duke entered into the humour of the situation, and replied, “I am quite well and glad to see you; what is your business?” “Why,” said John, “we have come to ask you why we have not had that ground staked out for a chapel?” “What, have you not got the ground yet?” “No,” replied John, “and Steward says he does not think we ought to have it.” The Steward was called in and asked how it was that his orders had been disregarded, and the duke proceeded to give him a sharp rebuke. Old John became so excited, and was so well pleased with the result, of their interview that he broke in with, “That’s reet, duke, give it him well, for he deserves it all.” The land was forthwith conveyed, and a neat chapel was erected.
It is not every chapel that has such a romantic history, as that described in the following story, told by the Rev. W.R. Widdowson.
The squire and clergyman of a certain village quarrelled, and to annoy the latter, the former caused a neat chapel to be built in this village, and intimated that all the Free Churches should be invited to supply the pulpit one Sunday each, and that the chapel should be given to that Community whose preacher pleased him. The squire was asked to invite our people to send a preacher, and a communication, bearing this strange address, was dispatched:-
“To the Ranter Preacher, Hull.” As a result, the Rev, J. Verity, at that time the most eloquent preacher in the Connexion, was sent as our representative. During his long journey, he became foot-sore and weary, and observing an ass feeding on a common, he arranged with its owner for its use to carry him to the village and back. A sack was placed upon its back for a saddle, and a piece of rope tied around served as stirrups; and thus mounted he resumed his journey. Entering the village he was saluted with “Here comes Balaam on his ass.” When he had put up the animal at the inn, he proceeded to the chapel, where he announced as his text, “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ.” He proceeded to speak of Preventing Grace, Providential Grace, Converting Grace, and Supporting Grace. In speaking of the latter he emphasized and enlarged upon the support which “Grace” gave in a dying hour. He said, “I kept my eye upon the squire, and saw that as I spoke of Grace supporting a man in his dying moments, that I had got hold of him, and as I continued to speak the tears gathered in his eyes, and rolled down his cheeks. Presently he sprang to his feet, and holding up both hands cried out, ‘The chapel is yours. You are the people to preach.’” From that time we supplied the pulpit.
Many stories have been told us of this John Verity, which all go to show that he was mighty in Scripture, and uttered divine thoughts in fitting words. He was a man of great intellectual force, with strong common sense, whose passion reached a white heat, and burnt almost everything it touched. According to all accounts that we have heard, John Verity was an eloquent speaker.
Many traditions are cherished by the Churches in and around the Potteries, of wonderful services conducted under extraordinary conditions. These God-inspired men have certainly left their mark upon that district: their names are written upon the register of household words; they are embalmed in the family memories of the thousands of Primitive Methodists; and these traditions should surely be gathered during the Centenary Celebrations, and be preserved from oblivion. Who can ever forget the doings of John Wedgwood, the roving Evangelist? He relinquished his lucrative profession, and traversed the district, going from village to village, preaching wherever he could gather a congregation. He slept one night at Ridley Hall, after conducting one of his famous services, and the farmer’s man sat looking at him, believing him to be an incarnate devil, and refusing to go to bed until the preacher had put off his shoes, for he shrewdly suspected that he should see the “Cloven Foot.” At Wedgwood’s meetings the people were sometimes seized with violent jumpings, which continued for several minutes, during which they sprang three or four feet high. We have seen something of this in prayer meetings, following the regular preaching-service. A few years since we had a brother with us, whose goodness was transparent, and at whose death the whole town went into mourning, His funeral was the largest ever known in that place. This brother was one of the few survivors of the old school. A strange feature of his religious experience was, that, in times of great spiritual power, in the class or prayer meetings, he would rise from his knees while praying, and commence jumping; and if any brother was near, he would seize him by the waist, and roll him on the floor. As this peculiarity was well known, he was generally given a wide berth at such times. One evening, a student who had been preaching, remained to the after meeting; and not knowing the brother’s peculiarity, knelt very near to him. The old saint had a good time, but the same cannot be said of the student; for during the meeting, the old man seized the young one by the waist, and rolled him on the floor, leaving broad marks upon his black cloth. Now the strange element is that these manifestations were not confined to one class. We have heard of wealthy ladies attending one of our chapels, to see these peculiar exercises, and during the meeting, they were overpowered with “the jumping glory,” and jumped for some time in their pews where they had been seated. These irregularities were only in times of great religious excitement. They are facts awaiting explanation; and contain a psychological problem which has yet to be solved. Another hundred years may show us fuller light on the laws governing the soul of man with its hopes, aspirations, and yearnings.
In Primitive Methodism there are depths which we have not yet fathomed – an inwardness which sometimes revealed itself in quaint expressions, and shows itself through our cherished traditions. We have come a long way during the Century; many great improvements have been made in our organizations; yet we may always profitably study our early records, and the traditions of the Pioneers, because of the life forces which they reveal. True, the experiences of the workers widely vary; but in many respects they harmonize, and we clearly see behind all, and in all, and over all the Superintending Agency of the Divine Spirit, working upon the consecrated powers of the builders of our Zion; bringing together the scattered units and fusing them into one living whole. During the celebrations we shall hear and read much of the outstanding characters, but let us not forget the Commonality whose names find no place in our history. They were men and women who “acted well their part”; and were unmatched for their deep devotion to the church they loved. And in rejoicing for our unparalleled legacy, let us take care to preserve the soul moving, heaven-born power, whose presence is shown along the pathway of our history. We should try to get to the heart of that force which made the early workers so mighty. Their work was heaven-inspired, and heaven-sustained. The same spirit which inspired them must animate us. Better, far better, do an extravagant thing now and again than never do anything at all. Edmund Burke said, ‘‘When the conditions of our national life have greatly changed, the beaten path is the very reverse of the safe road.” The conditions of our life have greatly changed and we cannot use the forms which our fathers did, even if we would, but we can say what God tells us, and do what He bids us; and though the world may sneer at us, and respectability gather up its skirts and pass us by, we shall live and win, because the Lord Jesus Christ is the Captain of our Salvation, and the best of all is He is with us.
References
Primitive Methodist Magazine 1907/940
No Comments
Add a comment about this page