The Life And Ministry Of Henry Pounds

Earthen Vessel 1896:

Mr. Arthur Henry Pounds, Bexley

Birth And Call by Grace

I was born at Poplar, on the 5^th of November, 1863, and was the child of gracious parents. When very young I had impressions that I was a sinner, and held vague ideas that unless my sins were forgiven, I should go to hell. When these convictions were upon me, I was very earnest informally saying my prayers.

When about nine years of age I was tempted to make use of my parents’ money, and continued to do so until I was found out. For a time such was the guilt upon my conscience, that I was ashamed to face my brothers and sisters and dreaded my parents. This natural repentance gradually wore off, but never wholly left me. I tried hard to keep from sinning in thought, word and deed. But failure in this respect at last made me almost melancholy, and indeed, I very nearly lost my reasoning capacity. My conscience became so tender that I would confess the most trivial matters to anyone who would only listen to me. I was lifted out of this condition by the hymn, “Ye fearful saints,” &c.

At this time I used to take my blind grandmother, Mrs. Burn, to Coverdale Rooms [A place where the Church used to meet, who now worship at “Elim,” Perkin-street, East India-road, Limehouse] to chapel, and when she returned home I continued to go myself.

At the age of fifteen I went to business, and having my evenings to myself, I attended chapels whenever I could, especially Coverdale Rooms and Zoar Chapel, Great Alie-street. I became much attached to the ministry of Mr. Holden and also that of Mr. Ashdown. Mr. Holden, one night just before service, sat down by my side and asked me if I was interested in what I heard. This question was blessed to my soul; for the first time I felt I could readily answer in the affirmative. The only comfort I obtained was from the ministry of these two men. I used to wait and catch eagerly at the portions of encouragement for seeking souls. One Thursday night as usual I entered “Zoar” Chapel, longing for a personal realization of pardon. Mr. Ashdown was preaching from Isa. 61:3. Whilst he was describing the mourners in “Zion” the word came with a melting-power to my heart. I hung down my head so that the people could not see me behind the high hacked pews, and I wept a great deal and cried with joy that I was one of the characters so faithfully described by the preacher. Again at Coverdale School-room, on Wednesday evening, Mr. Holden spoke from the words, “Behold he prayeth.” This again put me among those who feared the Lord, and now a hope began to spring up in my soul that there was really mercy for me.

The Lord was pleased, however, to try the little hope that I possessed to an acute degree.

Again one Wednesday evening, at Coverdale, the verse was read, “But let not all this terrify.” It appeared to come as a preparation for the ensuing conflict, which I shall never forget. I returned home and such was my trouble that I went to bed. Here I felt worse at the thought of dying in my sleep, and jumped out of bed and went to the water-jug to sprinkle my face with water to keep me from fainting. I called out for father to come up. When he came I feared to tell him what I was passing through. My dear mother then came upstairs and put a hot water bottle to my feet, as I was trembling from head to foot. My body trembled with the violence of my inward fears. At last very quietly my very dear sister Annie came and sat at the foot of my bed- stead and seemed to know all that I was passing through. Looking at me she said, “Arthur, Uncle James (Burn) once said that no sinner who had really prayed from his heart could go to hell, or else he would be able to look up and say, ‘Lord, I called upon Thee and Thou never heardest me’! The snare was broken; I saw that it was impossible, that the dear Lord would never break His own word. “Call upon Me in the day of trouble,” &c. Now I went off into a quiet sleep.

Gradually the Lord was pleased to bring my soul into a saving knowledge of Himself and the doctrines of grace.

At “Elim,” under a sermon from Psa. 125:2, “As the mountains are round about Jerusalem,” &c., I was led to rejoice in the settlements of grace. “If the Son make you free, ye shall be free indeed,” was the text which was often upon my mind, and through which I was gently brought into liberty.

I was baptized at “Elim” chapel Nov. 29, 1883, and received into fellowship the following Sunday. I was married on June 14, 1887, and the following year was seized with a sharp attack of laryngitis, which brought me to within measurable distance of death. I counted the few months or weeks that would terminate my life, and felt certain I should die. At this time the Lord sweetly sustained me by the promise, “When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee,” &c. I read a sermon by the late James Wells from the text, “The end of all things is at hand,” which seemed to convince me that I was going to die.

Strange to say, however, from this time I gradually got better, and, when sufficiently recovered, went to Hastings. Here, under the ministry of Mr. Hull, the Lord again put His hand to the work of grace in my soul, and increased my thirst for spiritual things. I could now begin to read a little with the understanding, and much enjoyed works by Augustus Toplady.

When in “Ebenezer” Chapel on Sunday evening, my heart was so warmed with the influences of the blessed Spirit that I tried to join in the singing; but, from the nature of my illness, my voice would not respond. This broke me down, and led me to think with joy of the time when,—

“In a nobler, sweeter song,

I’ll sing His power to save.”

The blessedness of this love visit was so powerful that I wanted to die, and not get better. However, I returned home, bodily strengthened and spiritually refreshed, to my dear wife, who had given birth to our first child during my absence.

The Lord’s house was now the means of much blessing, and, under the ministry of my dear pastor, Mr. Holden, I have been built up. At times I have scarcely refrained from calling out, feeling that 

“My full soul could hold no more

Of everlasting love.”

Call To The Ministry

From a little child I always entertained a strong admiration for ministers, and at times had a secret desire to be one myself; but was ashamed to open my mind, as I felt myself to be such a sinner.

However, when the Lord was pleased to give me a real hope of interest in His mercy and salvation, I longed to be able to communicate the fact to those who might be like I had been, and to tell them that, since I had found mercy, none need despair.

On the night of my baptism, as I was coming out of the vestry, Mr. Kemp [a deacon at “Elim,” Limehouse, an occasional preacher, and one of the best leaders of the service of praise the present century has known] placed his hand on my head, and said to the friends who were standing near, “A future minister of the gospel.” This impressed my mind: but I tried not to allow it, or any other similar indications, to influence my action in the matter until I received a marked token from the Lord. However, my mind was often exercised upon the subject: and, although I prayed earnestly that the Lord would remove the desire if it were wrong, yet it increased until one night I could bear it no longer, and sat up in bed and burst into tears. My dear wife did not urge me in the matter, but was a great comfort in my distress. For months the exercise continued, and I would walk about Wanstead Flats [a large open space between Ilford and Leytonstone, in East London] praying out loud that the Lord would speak some directing word to my mind.

One night I was in Ilford Cemetery, reading Romaine’s “Life of Faith.” The agony my soul was in made me feel very ill indeed, but I tried not to show it. Whilst I was reading I came across the following passage: “They shall not be ashamed that wait for Me.” In a moment my trouble was all gone, anxiety left me, and a blessed calm came over me, in which frame of mind I returned home, blessing and praising the Lord all the way.

Some time after this, on September 29th, 1892, I attended the harrest thanksgiving services at Waltham Abbey, and was prevailed upon by Mr. G. Baldwin to say a few words in the place of Mr. G. Turner, my father-in-law, who was absent through illness. Whilst turning the matter over in my mind, the words seemed to come with force, “Salute no man by the way.” I accordingly ventured on to the platform and felt a measure of freedom and sweetness. Mr. W. Winters then said, alluding to the young man who had just spoken, “I have had, for some time, an impression that this young man will be a preacher of the Gospel.” The following year, 1893, I was requested to speak again, when Mr. Pallet, junr., asked me if I preached. I said, “No:” and he replied, “I believe you will.” Soon afterwards he constrained me to go down and give them an address one Thursday.

Things now seemed to have come to a crisis. I begged that God would give me a marked token that I might go in His dear name. I was reading the Acts of the Apostles the Thursday previous, and my eye fell upon the words, “Go stand in the temple and speak all the words of this life.” I attended “Elim,” and, to my surprise, Mr. Holden read the same chapter. Again the words came, with increasing power, “Go stand,” &c. I feared to take them even with a second application. Whilst betwixt hope and fear, Mr. Holden stood up and announced them for his text. This riveted my attention, as I was persuaded that something was coming from the Lord Himself. The preacher dealt very faithfully with the subject, and cut away a good deal from beneath me, but when concluding his sermon alluded to the fact that God-sent ministers always desired a message from the Lord, and, he said, “This has been mine for many years—‘I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.'” This was as much as I could bear, and made me feel as though I must shout out, “Yes, Lord, and it shall be mine.”

I accordingly went, and spoke from these words. Doors appeared to open and close, which tried me for about two years; and, just as I was beginning to wonder if I had made a mistake, and was coming to another point of experience, I received a letter from Mr. John Piggott, December, 1894, asking me to come to Bexley. I felt that it was right for me to accept the invitation. After preaching occasionally, it was arranged for me to give them all my unengaged dates up to Christmas, 1895, after which I received a letter requesting me to speak regularly for a further period of six months with a view to the pastorate, and ultimately to take the oversight of the Church. This I have accepted from the application of the words, “And Jesus seeing their faith,” &c. My whole desire in the matter now, is—

“O, for a closer walk with God!

A calm and heavenly frame;

A light to shine upon the road,

Which leads me to the Lamb.”