The Life And Ministry Of Charles Wilson

Earthen Vessel 1899:

The Life Of Charles Wilson

Charles Wilson, our dear father, was born at Stradbroke, in Suffolk, on May 22, 1817. His father kept a boys’ school in that village, and, though a good schoolmaster, was not a Christian, nor a kind father. His mother was a member of the Baptist Church, and, though she died when he was very young, her Christian character influenced him through life. Once he was jumping over a ditch, and fell in. To escape punishment, he told an untruth. When she heard of it, she burst into tears, and cried, “Oh! Charles, if you had died with a lie in your mouth!” Seeing her weep so bitterly, he realised how wicked he had been, and his hatred of falsehood dated from that period.

When their father was out one evening, she talked to her children about their souls. prayed with them so eanestly as to leave a lasting impression on our father’s mind. After her death, his father married again, and his wife took a dislike to Charles and his eldest sister, making it no longer home to them. His father, naturally strict, would punish him when his other scholars were equally to blame, for was he not the schoolmaster’s son, and ought to know better? When he was old enough, he was sent to each of his father’s brothers in turn with notes, asking them to find him something to do, as he was not wanted at home. As his uncles were farmers, he did not mind the work in the fresh air; but when evening came he felt his loneliness. His uncle and aunt did not want his company, neither did the servants; so he would go into the barn and long for the time when he would be old enough to get his own living, and be independent of relations. How often we have pictured him thinking of his glorified mother, recalling her words and prayers, feeling all alone! But his mother’s God looked down and blessed him there.

When he was about 17, feeling heartily sick of a dependent life, he resolved to go to America, when he saw in the Gospel Herald an advertisement for a “young man that could write a good hand.” He obtained the situation with a godly man at Brentford; there he attended the Baptist Chapel, and was convinced of sin under a sermon by Mr. J. A. Jones. From there he went to London, and attended under the ministry of Mr. John Stevens, at Meard’s-court. In the firm where he was employed the head man was not honest, and, soon after, our father was asked by his employer if he had counted the cheese that had come in then. He answered, “Yes, there were 13.” Soon after he came again: “Are you quite sure there were 13? as the foreman says there were only 12.”‘ ”Yes, sir.” Presently the latter came and said, “If you are so sure about things, you will find this place too hot for you,” and so he did.

As he was walking in the street one day, he saw a poor old Irish woman trying to carry a basket too heavy for her; our father offered to take it as far as he could, and gave her his lunch. When he gave the basket back, she thanked him very heartily. A few days later, he was feeling thoroughly tired and disheartened, so weary that he nearly stumbled; it seemed as if Satan said: “Curse God, and die.” “What good does your religion do you?” “God does not seem to care, and these men will persecute you to death;” when suddenly a voice sounded in his ears: “Why, if that is not that dear young man, God bless you; God bless you.” The spell was broken; he thought, “If that poor old creature is so thankful to me for a little act of kindness, how grateful ought I to be to God for all His goodness?”

Soon after, his employer found him something definite to attend to, so the men had to leave him alone. He was not sorry when a door opened at an Egg Merchant’s, but there he found temptation of another kind. When the men heard that he went to chapel on Sunday, and took in the Gospel Herald, they tried to persuade him to go to an entertainment. At first he refused, but consented on condition that he could come out if he did not approve. He soon found out it was no place for a Christian, and, rising from his seat, said, “I’ll stay no longer; it’s the very sink of iniquity,” and out he went, though they tried to detain him.

Having been much blessed under Mr. Stevens’ ministry, and brought into the liberty of the Gospel, he was baptized by him, and received into the Church. There he met our dear mother, who was also a member, and soon they became warmly attached to one another. He now felt there was some one to really love him, and this gave impetus to his natural desire to make his way in the world, and so provide a home for her. Careful, industrious, and amiable, she was just the companion he needed to help him start in business for himself, and, being spiritually-minded, was no hindrance on his journey heavenward. They had all the difficulties of young beginners, but bravely they pulled together. Blessed with perseverance, firmness of character, business habits, a good writer and arithmetician, he used every honourable means to succeed, and, through God’s help, overcame all obstacles. After a time they removed away from Meard’s-court, and nearer to “Mount Zion,” where they attended under the ministry of Mr. John Foreman; and as their own dear pastor was dead, they both joined the Church there, and later on our father was chosen deacon. During all this time, home was not neglected. Even in his earlier struggles he would not be too tired on Sunday to take his two little girls one on each knee, show them the Bible pictures, tell them of God’s goodness to him, when he felt all alone in the “wide, wide world.”

When we went to boarding school, by letters and visits, he and mother would impress us with the beauty of real religion, the need of a change of heart, as well as honourable conduct to those around us. When not necessary to live at the business, they removed to “Ebenezer Lodge,” where they spent the rest of their lives.

Our father had now more time to devote to the “Aged Pilgrims’ Friend Society,” where he became actively engaged, besides other societies and the many ways of helping God’s poor. Thoroughly liberal, he enjoyed giving a tenth of his income to God’s cause. On May 22nd, 1872, our much-loved mother passed peacefully away from earth to heaven. On her dying bed she spoke sweetly of God’s goodness, and of the home to which she was going. Only a sigh, and she had gone to be with Jesus for ever. Not only a loving wife and mother, but an earnest Christian worker, writing letters to seekers of Jesus, and to any in soul-trouble, words were spoken in season; and she also wrote tracts to meet the needs of those she met in her summer outings. How much good she was enabled to accomplish, only eternity can reveal. Our father spoke of her as “one who could make a home in a wilderness, one in whom the heart of her husband could safely trust.” No wonder we all felt our loss!

It may be mentioned here, in reference to our father’s boyhood, that when his stern father was too old to teach, he and his eldest sister smoothed his declining years, and, when he was dying, he whispered, “Charles, I was unkind to you when you were a boy;” this he said so regretfully that our father could but hope that his proud spirit had been humbled by God’s grace. The uncle, too, who had been most harsh to him, tried to atone, by inviting his wife and two children to stay in the very house where our father lived when a youth, and my sister and I remember now, the happy fortnight spent at “Hoxue Abbey,” in Suffolk.

After a while, our dear father chose another companion, one in every way suitable, who now lives to mourn his loss. To her honour, be it said, that when she went to “Ebenezer Lodge,” she made no alteration in any of the arrangements, so that it might be home still to children and grandchildren, whom she kindly welcomed. May her declining years be peaceful and happy.

When our dear father found the anxiety too much, he retired entirely from the business and devoted the later years of his life to God’s cause, taking the chair at meetings to help the poorer Churches. How much good he was the means of doing, how many hearts he cheered by his kindly words and timely help, it is not for me to say, as there are so many living who knew and loved him. 

As time passed on, it was evident to many that he was nearing home; but those nearest to him hoped that it was only because he was getting old that he would get so tired. At Hunstanton and Laxfield he had illnesses that seemed like warnings, but we hoped on. In his last illness he seemed to realise that he might not recover, and would speak sweetly of the joys of heaven, and never expressed a wish that he might get about again. He slept much, but would suddenly open his eyes and begin to speak of the lovingkindness of the Lord, in his own experience, that “not one thing had failed of all the Lord had promised him.”

One day, seeing his two daughters watching him anxiously, he pronounced such a beautiful benediction on us, our husbands and children, as to melt us with it’s tenderness. At another time, speaking of God’s blessing on his life, he expressed a hope that every one of his grandchildren, and their children, as well as his own, might live to God’s honour and glory, and never do anything or use their means in furthering anything evil; that when their time came to lie down and die, they might have the same bright hope that he had, and leave behind them as many loving friends.

Precious father! words are too poor to express your children’s loving admiration for your beautiful, cheerful, and unselfish character, so loving and tender, though firm. Calmly and peacefully, no disease, only a failing of all his powers, the time had come for him to go home, and he slept his life away “safe in the arms of Jesus.” Gone home! but not forgotten. Tears will come as we miss him, but with him “it is well.”

Jemima Sears