The Life And Ministry Of William Brundish

Earthen Vessel 1898:

Mr. William Brundish, Manchester

Dear Brother,—The brief sketch I write of my life, as desired, I forward, hoping it will be made a blessing to the sons and daughters of Zion; but, like Amos and Gideon, I do not feel worthy of a place in your “gallery,” or, as we quaintly call it, “our modern 11^th of Hebrews;” or, “Our Chronicle of the Great;” for “I am neither a prophet or a prophet’s son, but a gatherer of sycomore fruit.”

Well, at a place called “The Corner,” Mendlesham Green, in the parish of Mendlesham, Suffolk, in a cottage facing the chapel called “Jireh Particular Baptist,” on the 2nd October, 1833, was born a son and firstborn to Mr. Robert Brundish, bootmaker, and was registered at the Parish Church by the name of “William Brundish, son of Robert and Maria Brandish”—your unworthy scribe. 

Mendlesham is well-known in history, and has many traditions. Suffolk is noted for a number of martyrs. Less than half-a-mile from where the chapel stands-a place called “Cay,” or “Clay Hill”—tradition says many died for the truth’s sake. It does seem that out of their ashes there has sprung a generation to serve God, even to this day. Suffolk has more Baptist causes than all others put together (i.e., Dissenters), and more in proportion to population than any other county in England.

Suffolk Martyrs

In the year 1555, Dr. Rowland Taylor, Vicar of Hadley, or Hadleigh, Suffolk, who stands first on the list, sealed the truths he had preached in the parish on “the Hadleigh Common.” He died at the stake—the post of duty; the details move our eyes to tears. Then Kerbey, and Roger Clark, of Mendlesham, in time of Henry VIII., were burnt to death for the truth’s sake—they bore a noble testimony, which is fully recorded in “Fox’s Book Of Martyrs”—Clark at Bury-St.-Edmunds, Kerbey at Ipswich; and from that day to this, Suffolk has contributed to the noble army of valiants for the truth. Even in our day there has been and gone and is—viz., Daniel Herbert, the Sudbury rhymer, died the year I was born, 1833; John Foreman, the ploughman; J. E. Bloomfield, the Stowmarket baker lad (baptized at Mendlesham Green); John Brett, married Mary Hart, both members at, Mendlesham; also living, Mr. Garrod; Poock; Wright; Corbett; and last (still alive), Hon. Charles Hill, Stoke Ash (a sermon he preached in 1850, from Heb. 3:1, is still fresh to my soul). But to return.

My father being poor, and a large family, I was left to learn to read at the Sabbath-school; and for good attendance I got a hymn-book and Bible. The school was given up for some time. I went then to the Church Schools. When nine, I was elected by the Parish Council on Charities for three years’ free education. Education in those days was out of the reach of the working-classes. My father and mother could neither read nor write. I was a dull scholar. 

At twelve I gave place to my brother; went into the workshop to learn the trade of bootmaking with my father. In this I became an expert and a ready craft. All I learnt at school was soon forgotten, but plain reading, and poor writing, and bad spelling. As I grew up I made one of a gang for sports, in which I delighted, and, being witty, I was their fool, and acted as clown and jester; indeed, I was the limb of the “green,” and named “The Young Wonder.” In this I grew proud: I held the palm. But my father insisted on me going to some place of worship on the Sunday. So I divided my time between four places in the parish; sometimes I went outside, even as far as Stonham Baptist Chapel.

At this time the cause at Mendlesham Green was at its best—baptizing every month; the best preachers of the day supplied, and, for a time, pastors Hicks, Foreman, Nunn, Banks, Wells, Cozens, etc.; the place packed every Sunday. They came in traps, on foot, five and ten miles; times the like of which are fare to be seen today. The place enlarged, and again enlarged. It grew to a large Church. Deacons grave, sound, and popular; and the Church most famed in Suffolk. (Gadsby’s hymn-book was at this time introduced.)

But I loved my sports, my jesting, &c., which to this day is a snare to me. I longed for the day when I could throw off “home rule,” and follow the bent of my mind.

I was now about seventeen, in the year 1850, near Midsummer. Work over, 8 p.m., we were let loose. I made for the “ring,” about fifty yards from the chapel. A good few were waiting for “The Jester,” “The Fool,” “The Wonder;” a cheer, ”Here he comes!” as I ran. I heard a voice, from whence I knew not, ring and echo in my ears, or soul, “Thou fool, the greatest of all fools;” and, like a vision of a moment, I saw the broad road to hell, and I was in it.

Alarmed

The fear, the dread, the guilt of my soul that night. Every moment I feared to fall into hell. A sermon, from Acts 10:4 made conviction deeper. I fell in the pew as if shot, my knees smote, I prayed, I wept. It now became a real struggle to be religious; Satan was soon at work. He began thus:—“You are too young”—”You may fall away”—“You will sacrifice the best part of your life”—”You will soon be fit for any town, even London, and all the pleasures of life”—“Then the scorns of your equals”—”Get older, there is plenty of time to be religious yet.”

This was the kind of gospel that fell in with my carnal mind. I now plunged into sin, as a whale into the sea with the harpoon in it; for the law, like an arrow, was in my soul; and for twelve months sinning, repenting, vowing—today good, tomorrow bad,—till guilt and fear of death and hell was an experience I could not explain; life was unbearable, all pleasure of the world had lost its charm, the company of the godly sought, every subject in the Bible engrossed my thoughts. No passage in Scripture pictured me worse than I felt,—“the leper,” “the cage of unclean birds,” “heart deceitful,” “soul full of concupiscence,” Romans 7—in a word, “a cesspool of reptiles,” “a dungeon full of unexplainables,” “a Sodom within me.” I imperceptibly became religious in my heart, reformed in my life by an influence irresistible. Yes, from necessity and duty pressing on me, with all the simplicity of a child, without guile or any carnal object in view. But one day, like the sun from a dark cloud, peace broke into my troubled soul, and all was joy.

This only prepared me for the trial that awaited me.

Temptations

Satan returned. He said: “Your joy and peace is only flesh; it is a delusion. Your soul-trouble is nothing to God’s people.” Satan took advantage of my ignorance, for I had read but little. So I prayed, “Oh, God, send soul-trouble that I may answer this, but save my soul!” now forty-eight years since. That hymn, “I asked the Lord that I might grow,” &c., was sweet to me when I found it after all was over. I will but briefly summarise the trial. Tempted to believe—

I. Every religion was a delusion.

II. Bible was full of lies and fiction.

III. Infidelity, till I doubted my own existence.

IV. Blasphemy and oaths raged in my breast like the sea and tempest.

V. To escape all, “End this by a plunge into the unknown. If there is a God, fate hangs over the head of every one.”

VI. I felt the power moving me to fate. “Tempt God, and prove His promise.” “Cast thyself into the flood.”

Day by day I was saved. Now Satan took another turn: “You have sinned the sin unto death. All is over, no mercy.” Sleep left me, I prayed to die. I was unfit for daily labours. I was an object of pity. The last thrust of the enemy—viz., “No one that ever was saved has been tempted after this fashion.” I wished I had never been born. I envied the beast.

Jabez Hart—William Garrard

A tract was put into my hand by Jabez Hart (who was then under conviction); it was “The Life of Wm. Garrard: Watchman on the Walls.” This broke the spell. As I read, my soul was set free. I sang songs of praise to Jesus my Saviour; trees of the wood, birds, and beasts of the field were my hearers. My sins and guilt, before like mountains and waves, now could not be found, in number as the sands on the sea shore, drowned in blood from the “Fountain open for sin and uncleaness.” Turning to Satan, I addressed him thus: “Thou father of lies! you have taken advantage of my ignorance. You vile tempter, speak now if you have any truth. Begone! Begone!”

Darkness—Sunshine

I had three months’ darkness; I had three months’ sunshine. I now wrote to brother Garrard, and years after, at Bacup, I had the pleasure of entertaining him, as also brother Samuel Cozens, and corresponded till they died. They were heroes for the truth.

Baptized

Brother Jabez Hart (now deacon at Crowfield), with myself, were baptised together at Mendlesham Green, February 22, 1852, in my nineteenth year. It was cold, snow a foot deep; but the chapel was full to the water’s edge. This passage came, “Not a dog shall move its tongue;” and so it was. The mothers in Israel said one to another, “That lad will be a preacher;” and they wept for joy. My “pals” were over-awed when they saw their “chief,” the ruddy, rustic youth; moving down into the water, and coming out, a sight the oldest inhabitant had not seen before. The text was, “God bless the lads” (Gen 48:16). That day the people said, “We never saw it after this fashion.” I was the only one of the family, numbering about 100 souls, who made a profession.

I now felt it would be better for me to remove, if Providence opened the way, as there were no prospects in trade in my native village.

In a few months an offer came from Bacup, Lancashire. Brother W. Ling and I left Mendlesham, with the tears and prayers of the friends, October 21, 1852. God gave me this promise, “I will be with thee in all places,” &c. (Gen. 28:15), as I passed the division line, Stonham-road.

All went well, and on July 26, 1853, I was married to Anna Hart, youngest daughter of John and Elizabeth Hart, Stow-up-land, at Stow-market Baptist Chapel: we were both members at Mendlesham. This family of Harts was a remarkable one: the very contrast to my family. Father, mother; sons, and daughters—thirteen in number—in process of time, all became members of Baptist causes, all gone, I believe, but Jabez and James. [The obituary of Nathaniel Hart, appeared in the Vessel, June 1895, and Standard, September, 1898. Read Page 408. “Melicent,” the oldest daughter.] After them, grand-children not a few.

The last words of Anna, my wife, were:—”Death is no more a frightful foe,” &c.

Now I must pass over an eventful life of more than thirty years, passing through every degree of Church and school experience, business and domestic life, providence and grace.

Events:—Births, deaths, marriages, &c.

My family:—Eleven children, thirteen living grand-children, one great-grand-child; my age last birthday, sixty-four; three daughters members of the Church, Rochdale-road, Manchester, under pastor Hugo Gruber (late W. Gadsby).

Moving His Tent

My tent:—I have removed my tent thirteen times-i.e., Bacup, Mendlesham-street, Stacksteads, Oldham, Bacup (second time), Open-shaw, Manchester, &c.

The Busy Bee

As events blocked my way to go out and supply, I found plenty of work at school, teaching a class of men of all ages; reading and expounding twice in the week at cottage meetings; a public essayist and lecturer; being a member of classes—Bible-classes, &c.—in Bacup, Oldham, Manchester, Hollinwood, &c.

Sent Out To Preach

In the year 1882, January 22, the Church at Mendlesham Green, passed the following resolution, after two full meetings and prayer, viz.:—

“Moved by brother John Finbow, and seconded by brother Wm. Arbon, ‘That brother William Brundish have the sanction of this Church to preach the Gospel wherever a door may be opened in the Providence of God.’ Carried unanimously. We, the Church, unite in love and prayer, wishing you God-speed.

John Scarfe, Deacon.

H. Hart, Secretary

To William Brundish, Manchester.

I soon had plenty of doors open, and, by God’s help, continue to this day. Besides daily business, my yearly work is at the rate— travelling 3,000 miles, preaching and lecturing 120 times, and at spare hours write books, new lectures, &c. The last twelve years’ record is— 36,000 miles travelled, 1,500 sermons and lectures delivered, &c.; no mishap.

Author

I have written three books—viz.: “Daily Bread,” “Layman’s Standard of a Parson” (Rom. 7 explained), “Problem Solved.” Many MSS.

Gratitude

God be thanked for all His mercies; and my thanks to all my friends for all their kindness to me in all places I have laboured. They are witnesses. Grace be unto them all.

Yours in the tuth,

William Brundish

209, Ashton New-road, Manchester, 

September 14, 1898.