The Life And Ministry Of Thomas Chandler

Gospel Standard 1866:

My dear Sir, I send you a brief account of the departure of our beloved friend, Mr. Thomas Chandler, for many years the honest and faithful minister of Edenbridge. He departed this life Thursday, March the 29th, 1866, in the 69th year of his age.

I deeply regret not being able to gather together more of the facts connected with his life; but as he has not left anything behind him in writing, and, true to his usual quiet and retiring character, had forbidden his widow to say anything about his departure beyond that “he is gone to eternal rest,” the information I can supply must of necessity be very brief and fragmentary.

As far as I can gather, he was called by grace under the ministry of the late Mr. Geo. Payton, of Edenbridge, whom he succeeded; and, as I have heard him say in my pulpit, the law work under which he passed was short and slight compared with what many of the Lord’s people and servants are called to suffer; but no man could be more clear and consistent than he was, whether he spoke of the law or the gospel, and it was manifest to his gracious hearers that he was experimentally acquainted with both. He has told me of some of his early trials in the ministry, which were neither light nor few. He was by trade a baker, and carried on business in Edenbridge for many years, and strove to his utmost to support himself and family by his business; but was eventually compelled to give it up, and cast himself upon the kind care of his gracious Master, who kindly blest and supported him, and enabled him to pay his way. He has frequently, too, told me of the unkindness he often received from the people, and the way in which he used to be compelled to take his griefs and sorrows to his heavenly Friend.

His death was caused by cancer of the bowels, which fearful disease laid him by for about three years; and the sufferings he endured were truly of the most agonising kind. I several times visited him during his severe affliction. I often heard him groan; but I never once heard him murmur. On one occasion I visited him, with a little money our congregation raised for him, as a token of their love and sympathy. I shall never forget that event, nor his language. He said, “Thank the dear friends a thousand times; and,” he continued, “tell them what a good Master I have got. I am better paid now I cannot work than I was when I could. Most masters take off their servants’ pay when they are disabled; but my Master doubles mine. O for a heart to praise him!” He was the most generous and unselfish man I ever knew: On the occasion just referred to, after a few minutes’ silence, he looked up, and said, “Winslow, I cannot take all this; you must share a part, for your next collection is near, and your poor people will not be able to give then. In reality, this comes out of your pocket.” I replied, “Hold your tongue; the Lord has been beforehand, and I shall have to tell you, when the quarter has passed, that the collection you predict will be short will be the best ever made at the doors for years.” It proved to be as I prophesied, and we rejoiced together. I only allude to this as a proof of his disinterestedness. “Money and means” were not his theme. He desired “fruit to abound to the people’s account.” But he was not a covetous man, which fearful sin, though so many apologies are made for it, is denounced by the God of heaven as “idolatry;” and though it neither excludes from pulpit nor pew, it excludes from the kingdom of heaven. He was “a lover of good men, given to hospitality, apt to teach,” and “a workman that needed not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.”

I wish I could recollect one-half of what passed between us; but I cannot. On one occasion, Mr. Stedman, who had been kindly preaching for him, went into his bed-room; and, finding him so racked with pain, Mr. S. could not refrain from tears, and said, “Can it be possible that a child of God, loved by a loving Father, can be allowed to lie and suffer as you do? I cannot make it out.” “When,” Mr. S. said, “his eyes sparkled with unusual lustre,” and, in reply to Mr. Stedman’s remark, he said, “Cannot you understand it? I can. Fools, because of their transgressions, are afflicted. There is the secret. My sins are forgiven me for his name’s sake; but whom he loves he chastens. It is my sins that have procured this.”

The last time I saw him was three days before his death. I never shall forget him. I saw that death had received its commission, and that every hope of his recovery was gone. I pressed him to speak as little as I could, for I saw that speaking was an effort; but he would speak as well as he could; so I said, “My dear Chandler, I see you are near your end. We are sorry indeed to lose you; we are glad, for your sake, that you are so near your everlasting rest; but it is natural for us to mourn. I shall lose a friend I love, and the church will lose a servant; but come, tell me, if you can, if you wish to preach again in order to contradict anything you used to preach?” when a most emphatic “No” was the prompt reply. “Can you die upon what you preached?” “Yes,” he replied, in the same decided manner. We conversed as much as his strength would allow; but his agony at times was great, and every now and then he would lift his dear hands and say, “Come, Lord Jesus; come quickly. Come, dear Lord, and fetch thy poor child home.” But much darkness distressed him, which made him cry for “the light of thy countenance;” “O,” said he, “that he would come, and just give me one kiss and take me home! O, why is he so long in coming? Come quickly, Lord Jesus!” Nor shall I soon forget the way in which he took hold of each of my hands, and pressed them with all his dying strength, and said, “My dear friend, the Lord bless and prosper you, ever keep you honest in his truth, and help you to contend, as you do, for the faith once delivered to the saints. The Lord will bless you. The Lord bless your people, make them kind to you, unite their hearts to fear his name, bless them with union and peace continually, and keep them from all evil;” which drew forth my very soul’s responsive “Amen;” for it seemed a sweet patriarchal blessing, as dear old Jacob blessed, by faith, the two sons of Joseph, and worshipped, leaning upon the top of his staff. I staid as long as time would allow; and, with much reluctance, took my leave of him, knowing that I should see him no more until that day when I hope, through the everlasting love of a Triune God, to see him in those everlasting realms, where “the inhabitants shall not say, I am sick;” when “he shall change our vile bodies, that they may be fashioned like unto his glorious body.”

On the 29th, after much suffering and darkness, and a busy devil’s annoyance, he broke out all at once, and said,”Rhoda,” (his daughter,) “Maria, dear,” (his wife, both being in the room,) “He is come; the Lord is come! I am going! It is all over!” He said no more, but lay in a calm state for one hour, when his dear spirit took its departure from this world of woe to “the bright mansions love ordained.”

“Creatures were mute, but not the angelic throng.” 

Thus died Thomas Chandler. “The end of that man is peace.” I regret that his wife is not allowed to furnish you with an account of his days; but, in obedience to one of the best of husbands, she feels she dare not; nor should I have attempted to have sent you this imperfect sketch, but for the following reasons: 

1. I knew of no one else who would. 

2. There are many in the churches who loved him for his work’s sake, who would like some little account of him.

3. Because, as so many ministers are now being taken away, and the number being thus every year made more few, the death of a standard- bearer is a cause for Zion’s cry to be, “In wrath remember mercy.” 

And, lastly, as a tribute of affection to a beloved friend and fellow-labourer.

W. Winslow

Wadhurst.