The Funeral Sermon Of Daniel Curtis

Earthen Vessel 1894:

The Late Mr. Daniel Curtis, Of Homerton

The Funeral

On Monday, August 1st, the mortal remains of Mr. Curtis were deposited in their last earthly resting place—the grave.

About 12 o’clock the remains were conveyed to the chapel, where, during his life, for many years he had proclaimed the gospel of salvation, and where a goodly number had assembled together.

Mr. Newborn, of St. Luke’s, read various suitable portions of Scripture, and offered up a most affectionate and appropriate prayer; after which, Mr. Samuel Milner, of Shadwell, delivered an address, of which the following is the substance:

“We are met on a very solemn occasion. Death at all time, and under all circumstances is a very solemn and awful matter. The body parts from the soul. It is a separation of the tenant from the house. It is an entrance into an eternal state of happiness, or an endless state of woe. 

Death, apart from Christ, and his salvation, is fearful to contemplate! But it is God’s word, and must come to all, both rich and poor, high and low, great and small. Sin caused its entrance. For the Scriptures saith, “By one man came death, and so death passeth upon all men, for that all have sinned.”

When Xerxes brought out his large army and looking at them thought and knew that they all must return to dust, he wept; and when I look around, and think how few of this company shall be left on the stage of time in twenty years; and in fifty years perhaps scarcely one left—how solemn the thought! Time will outline and carry all things away.

The day of death to the unprepared is an awful day. “The wicked is driven away in his wickedness.” But to the child of God it is a release. “The righteous hath hope in his death.” Death is a separation of all natural ties. Then comes the final sentence of the great Jehovah. It will be in Christ, or out of Christ—pardoned or unpardoned— justified or condemned. I repeat, it is the breaking up of all natural relationship; no more a brother, a husband, or pastor. When the spirit is yielded up all this is done with. There lays the poor, the powerless instrument—the soul is gone; and further we cannot trace its progress. But at the resurrection it will appear as an angel of God who neither marry nor are given in marriage. What a day of rejoicing then should this be to the people of God! What a happy release. What a mercy to be prepared for this day. “He that hath wrought us for this self-same thing is God,” “Vessels of mercy afore-prepared unto glory.” What a mercy that amidst all the conflicting scenes of life, we have the promise and the word of God that we shall to the end endure—that in our dying moments we shall be supported by his kind hand—so that the end shall be, as it was with our brother—peace. And the question will arise with some in reference to our departed brother Curtis—Was he a useless man? Has God accomplished nothing in him? Happily we can reply both in the negative and affirmative to these questions. Undoubtedly he was both a useful and honored man. Called by grace when young, some thirty-six years since, when about sixteen or seventeen years of age, he was happily placed under a sound and spiritual ministry; one of the greatest blessings he could have been favoured with. Ultimately, he became a member of that place, and was under God, one of the chief instruments in the erection of Mount Zion chapel, Dorset Square. He filled the office of deacon there, where we believe he was highly respected; and continued to be so until be entered upon the public ministrations of the gospel. It is sixteen years since be entered upon his pastorate in this place. It does not seem long since. Has his ministry been useless here? I trow not. I think that here he has had many seals to his ministry; he has been made useful in feeding and instructing some; and under his ministry here, some have been called forth into public life.

I say, therefore, that his was an honourable position; and his constant prayer was that his feet might be kept aright, that he might be preserved from falling. He is now gone where no more fears or sighs will interrupt his happy and disembodied spirit. Would you have preferred that God had cut him off in his usefulness? would you that be should have had a longer life? would you have preferred him living many years to be of no use? Is not God’s time and way the best? He finished his course, he kept the faith, and has now received his reward. We believe that our God appoints every man his work, and when that work is done it is as well for the workman to go home. He is gone, but there are some left behind. There is the widow. I was at the funeral of her first husband, and at the funeral of our brother’s first wife; yet I am spared; for how long God alone knows. But when we enter upon the marriage covenant it is ‘till death us do part.’ We know it will be the case on one side or the other with all of us. Is not God’s time the best? God has taken our brother Curtis home; and what the Spirit said to John is applicable to him—“Write, blessed are the dead which die in the Lord,” &c. This church is now without a pastor. You can easily get another. Take my words as I mean them. That which is got without prayer is not worth having. God has said, “For all these things I will be enquired of.” If we act without our God we can’t expect a blessing. May the Almighty God pour out upon you the spirit of grace and of supplication, that you may wrestle with him for another pastor after his own heart. No prudence or sagacity on your part will supply the place of prayer. 

There are some here, I suppose, who have often sat and listened to his voice with pleasure. You shall hear his voice no more. There are, perhaps, some here who admired his preaching, and liked the principles and doctrines that he held, but perhaps when this sea said all is said. You will hear his voice no more. How stands the matter with yourselves? Are you prepared to follow him? Have you heard the gospel in vain? Has it been altogether useless? My friend, sin is not of a trifling nature; death is not a trifle. We may think death to be a long way off, and laugh at it; but when we come to look death in the face, and beyond it, it is a solemn thing. We lay down to sleep at night, but we know not that we shall wake up again. Your dear pastor said, “My speech is going—oh this is dreadful.” Such is death; he comes and touches the vital cord, and we are gone. May you and I “learn to live righteously and soberly in this present world,” and then at the end all shall be well. I commend you to God, and the Holy Spirit, who alone is able to keep you from falling. Amen.”

The corpse was then replaced in the hearse, and followed by the widow and other relatives and ministers in mourning coaches, accompanied by a goodly number of the members of the church at Homerton Row, in other vehicles. The mournful cortege thus formed then moved slowly on the Kensal Green Cemetery, where it arrived shortly after three o’clock. 

On entering the grounds of the Cemetery, the coffin was taken from the hearse; the ministers alighted from the carriages, and preceded the corpse, and the mourners followed. The ministers who attended the funeral were all members of the “Strict Baptist Association,” of whom there were eight: Viz., Messrs. Wyard, Milner, Newborn, Meeres, Chas. Smith, Glaskin and Garritt. Arrived at the grace, (the family grave of Mr. Daniel Curtis), where a great number had assembled to pay the last tribute of respect to this servant of God, the mortal remains of the deceased were lowered in the grace, and Mr. George Ward, of Soho, addressed the meeting assembled. 

The following is a sketch of Mr. Wyard’s Oration.

Christian Friends: The matter of our convening together—the little spot of ground we at present occupy—the business we have come to perform, and the several relationship and positions we hold and sustain in life, are all calculated to create thoughts serious in their nature and solemn in their character. The matter of our convening together is death: the little spot on which we stand is the margin of the grave: the business we have come to perform is to pay the last tribute of respect to one whom we have long loved and esteemed; and the relationships we at present sustain we shall shortly have to give up, as our departed brother has done a little before us. God grant we may all fulfill our states as usefully, and finish our course as honorably, as he, through grace, has done. Death is a destroyer of all earthly ties; and the husband ceases to be a husband, and the wife a wife; yet there is a tie that nature will never dissolve, a bond that nature will never snap. Our brother is gone! Our brother is death! And yet though gone, in a sense he is not gone—not from our recollection—not from our esteem. Though dead, in a sense, he is not dead—for his spirit lives. He is only gone before; and although gone from earth, yet he is not altogether gone from our society. 

“For saints above, and those below,

But one communion make.”

Our friendship he no longer needs; our sympathy he no longer requires. He has gained the place where sorrowing and sighing are for ever banished. God was mercifully pleased to make great use of him. Thirty years have rolled away since I first became acquainted with him; and never has one circumstance occurred to give me the least reason to regret the intimacy. He was a man of sterling worth, or genuine piety and of great benevolence; but what he was, he was by the grace of God. He is gone now to where hospitality is no longer needed. God blessed him both in providence and grace; and on his tomb-stone it might be righteously written—“He was given to hospitality.”

I cannot at this moment view it as any occasion for grief or sorrow. Though ties have become broken, why weep? God has been merciful to our brother not to allow him to lie long on a bed of sickness. His work was gone, and why stay longer? True, he has left a widow, but he has left no little fatherless children; and God has promised to be a Husband to the widow. May you, dear sister, prove him to be so. We, as fellow-heirs, can contemplate his ransomed spirit as it now dwells in the presence of his heavenly Father: as co-workers we miss him. We are separated as to place, but not in society really. He is simply gone from the church militant below, to the church triumphant above. Believing that his immortal soul was quickened by the Holy Spirit, we cheerfully commit his mortal remains to the grave, and we charge thee, O grave, in the name of Him who ransomed Daniel Curtis, in the name of Him who made the heavens, and who sustains the universe, in the name of Him who has spoiled principalities and powers, and made a show of them openly—we charge thee, O grave, to keep sacred this handful of Jacob’s dust, till the morning of the resurrection. It is the cross that cushions the grave; it is the light of heaven that scatters the darkness of the tomb, and it is the hope of eternal life that renders the endurance of death bearable, to keep sacred this handful of dust. We withdraw from this grave in the blest assurance that we shall meet again in yonder world. Till then—Farewell! Brother Daniel. Farewell, brother Daniel, till we meet you in yonder glorious spheres. Farewell! Brother Daniel! The ties of nature are snapped asunder; but this glorious bond shall never be broken. We are, dear friends, just simply performing the work for him, that he has done for others, and which shortly others will do for us. The saints who are left on the earth when the end shall come, will want no funeral obsequies; for it is said, the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God; and the dead in Christ shall rise first: then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.” We, therefore, in the pleasing hope of meeting our brother in younger world, commit his body to the dust. May God sanctify this solemn even to the glory of his great name. Amen. 

Mr. Geo. Moyle, of Peckham, then offered up prayer, and the mourning multitude left the grave. 

There were several ministers present who did not form part of the procession; among whom we noticed Mr. J. A. Jones, Mr. Poynder, Mr. Bland, Mr. Holmes, Mr. Austin, and others. 

On Lord’s-day evening, August 7^th, Mr. John Foreman, of Mount Zion, Dorset Square, preached the Funeral Sermon at Homerton. 

The Funeral Sermon By John Foreman

The portion of Scripture selected for the improvement of this solemn occasion was Heb 13:7,8. 

“Remember them which have the rule over you, who have spoken unto you the word of God; whose faith follow, considering the end of their conversation; Jesus Christ the same yesterday, today and for ever.” 

Without exordium Mr. Foreman divided his text thus:

Now, dear friends, our first question is:

I. To whom are these words spoken?

II. The reference made. 

III. The commendation. 

IV. The admonitory counsel and exhortation. 

With regard to the persons to whom our text is addressed, it is to the Hebrews. They were such as were “called of God;” such as “draw not back unto perdition.” To those who have an attachment and love to the name of Jesus, believers in the Lord Jesus Christ and his salvation. They are such as have “fled for refuge to lay hold on the hope set before them in the gospel.” And here the question arises, “Have we ever fled for refuge to this glorious hope? Has our sinnership been opened to our view, and have we been led to cry, “God be merciful to me a sinner?”

I shall address myself first to the church of Christ who assemble here. You have lost your pastor. Now, without doing violence to the meaning of our text, we may read it in the past tense in reference to our departed brother, “Remember him that had the rule over you.” Or it might be read in the plural number, “Remember them that have had the rule over you.” You have had two pastors here whom I have known; and if they have not been possessed of the most extensive talent, they were honest men at heart, and that was far better than having a big talented rogue; for they have aimed to do you good, while the talented rogue would only do you harm. I believe our dear old friend Eason was an honest man, and so was our brother Daniel Curtis. 

I first became acquainted with our brother Curtis in 1824; and this time takes in the greater part of my existence. I first came up to London in August, 1824, to preach one Lord’s-day at Zoar Chapel, when I was invited to spend the close of that month at Blandford Street. Now the church there had just at that time been deceived by a base and artful deceiver. Well, after I had done preaching there on the first Sunday morning, the people, of course, began to congregate together, to discuss the merits of the new preacher; when Daniel Curtis gave it as his opinion that I was another so-and-so; that I was no good; and he and his good wife Betsey would not go again in the evening to be deceived. Well, when they returned home in the evening, they heard such a good report of the country parson, as made them almost sorry they had not been present. Poor Daniel Curtis came next morning to the house where I was staying, to see me, but I was gone. He then learned that I was to preach at Zoar on the following Thursday evening. Upon hearing this, his wife Betsey, who was a good Christian, said, “I will hear him at Zoar.” She want. I preached from these words: “Unto you that look for him he is near.” The sermon was much blessed to her soul. This was in 1824. She died in 1839; but that “looking sermon” she never forgot; so that though she would not come to hear my in the evening at Blandford Street, she went all the way to Zoar Chapel, and got her heart filled. I was invited to come again, which I did in November, 1824, and stayed two or three Sabbaths, when an intimacy was formed between your late pastor, and his then partner, and myself, which was never interrupted. There never was a jar between us. Our hearts were the same way—our faith was one; our views of church discipline and order were the same: we walked, talked, prayed and communed together. The church at Blandford Street then gave me an invitation to become their pastor; but having a little church at Cambridge, without a chapel; and having undertaken to build them one, I could and would not leave them till I had done what I could for them. Daniel Curtis came down to Cambridge, and tried to persuade me to leave there; arguing, that as I had a sickly wife, and four or five children to maintain on a small salary, it was my duty to leave there to better my condition; but I told him that I would sooner live on bread and water, than leave the Cambridge people in their then condition. In 1825 I went out to collect for the chapel, and succeeded in considerably reducing the amount of its cost. In January, 1825, forty persons, including Daniel Curtis and his wife, separated from the Blandford Street cause, and took a place to worship in. I was invited through Daniel Curtis (who was chosen deacon) to become their pastor, and on the 6^th of May, 1827, I commenced my stated labours amongst them, and was ordained pastor the following Christmas, with whom I have continued ever since. I have reason to love the name of Daniel Curtis. 

When young, he was placed at a dyer’s, where he was set to work that was too laborious for him. He overdone it, and brought on a disease termed “melted blood.” He never had good health from that time. This brought on pleurisy in the side, which greatly undermined his constitution. This worked much on his mind; and therefore influenced his ministrations. Some have said he did not preach so well of late years. Perhaps if we were servants full of disease, we should not be able to serve our master so well as though we were in possession of full health. I believe he was so completely united to his people, that no man could tell what he suffered when he saw them dwindle away. The dullness of his mind and ministrations were the cause of this. And while this affliction brought on this state of things, that also fed the complaint. Of his illness I cannot say much. I went to see him after the first fit; and having a journey of nineteen days in the country, I went a second time to see him previous to my departure. When with him on that occasion, he asked, “Where is my arm?” (He was paralyzed throughout one side) Poor dear fellow! This cut me to the heart. He said—“It’s all right, brother Foreman—’tis all right; God can’t do wrong.” And oh, how sweetly he sung,

“Jesus, my Lord, my righteousness.”

When he came to this place, the church was very low. Through his instrumentality, the church was raised up—the galleries erected, and the school-rooms built at the back—an honour to his name, and that of the church with whom he stood connected. Remember then, him who had the rule over you, who has spoke unto you the word of God, &c. The doctrines held and kept by Daniel Curtis were none but those found in the word of God—“whose faith follow, considering the end of his conversation: Jesus Christ the same yesterday, today, and for ever.” 

Mr. Foreman then made some important remarks on the commendation, the counsel and the admonition; and gave some wholesome exhortation and counsel to the church; and some words of comfort to the bereaved widow; but space forbids our entering further on the subject. We have given so much of it as related particularly to the deceased minister. The little chapel at Homerton Row was thronged on this very solemn occasion; and many there seemed to feel and mourn the loss of an affectionate pastor. 

On the following Tuesday, August the 9^th, the thirty-first anniversary of the cause at Homerton Row was celebrated, when sermons were preached by Messrs. Foreman, Bloomfield and Milner.