The Life And Ministry Of Daniel Walter

Gospel Standard 1866:

I have to inform you of the death of my father, who fell asleep in Jesus, May 30th, in his 83rd year, after having been laid one year and nine months upon his bed. It pleased the Lord to give him a strength enough to go and hear you [Joseph Philpot] for the last time in Gower Street, in 1864, when the Lord was pleased to bless the word to his soul’s comfort, as he had done many times before; and I hope I shall never forget the next Tuesday morning after he got home. When he got up, his face quite shone, and he said, “O, I have had such a blessed time of refreshing with the Lord this morning; I long to go home to be with him to get out of this sinful world.”

After about three weeks it pleased the Lord to lay him quite down upon a bed of affliction, from which he never arose, only as I took him out in my arms; for he lost all use of his lower limbs, and could lie for the most part only on his back. O, how thankful I want to be to the God of all our mercies, for he made his bed in his affliction, and refreshed him with his visits. It was pleasant to be with him most part of his time; for sometimes in the middle of the night he would break out and sing:

“‘Rejoice, believer, in the Lord,

Who makes your cause his own; 

The hope that’s built upon his word

Can never be o’erthrown.'”

“O, no,” he would say; “bless the Lord, that shall stand for ever and ever;” and then sometimes he would lie and converse with the Lord as though two were talking together. One day he awoke up and said, “I have got a new song; come to me.” We said, “What is it?” “Why,” he said, “I have been singing, 

“’Salvation like a river rolls, 

Abundant, free, and clear, 

For every Heaven-born soul that longs 

The joyful sound to hear.’”

O Salvation! Salvation! What a theme for my poor soul to sing.” Sometimes he would say, “I cannot think what the Lord lets me lie here for. I beg of him to take me home, that I may be with him and sing his glories.” And then would break out singing, blessing and praising the God of all his mercies; and then would say, “I am willing to wait, dear Lord, all thy appointed time. Give me submission to thy will.” The last four months he got too weak to talk much, and had not breath enough to sing; but sometimes would try, and then would say, “O, I want to sing to the honour of my Jesus; but I have not breath enough. When he takes me home I shall sing then and crown him Lord of all. Ah! He shall have all the praise. To him all the glory belongs.”

A friend called in to see him four days before his departure, and seeing how very weak he was, and that he could not be here long, he said to him, “Well, how do you find the ground your faith is standing upon?” “O,” he said, “it is very good and safe.” He then lay a short time, and then looked up and spoke out with these words: “Arise, shine, for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee.” My dear wife said to him, “Then that is good news to tell.” “Yes it is,” he said, “blessed news.” He then went to sleep again. I sat up with him, and in the night I heard him say, “Hallelujah!” but he did not wake then, nor till the next morning.

The next day he slept a deal, but was restless in the night. The next day he was sleepy. He awoke in the afternoon, and called to the woman that was with him. She said, “What do you want?” He said, “I want Jesus,” but could not be heard to say any more. She said, “Then Jesus is precious still.” He moved his head as well as he could to indicate the affirmative. He lay a little while and went to sleep again. He slept for fifty hours, and never moved hand or foot until he breathed his last. Thus you see how gently the Lord was pleased to take him home to himself to be where he has longed to be.

Once when Mr. Winslow was over to see him, he asked him if he had any passage of Scripture that he should like to be spoken from at his funeral sermon. “Tell them,” he said, “I am a poor old sinner, saved by free grace. Free grace alone is all my song!”

 E. Walter

Rusthall, June, 1866.

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I knew well, and may say almost intimately, considering that I only saw him occasionally, good old Mr. Walter for about 25 years. He was a deacon of Mr. Crouch’s church, at Pell Green, for many years, and used to come up to hear me on my annual visits to London. Besides which, I have more than once been at his house, when I have preached at Pell Green. I knew, therefore, a good deal of him and of his experience of the things of God, and must say that I have rarely known any one more deeply and longer tried than he was as to his own state and standing before God. He had a most deep and abiding view of the majesty, justice, and holiness of God, such as I have rarely seen in any other man. The Lord had dealt very powerfully with his soul in the beginning of the work, and the deep impressions then made by the application of the law to his conscience remained all through his life. His conversation was weighty and powerful, and often turned upon his fear of being deceived and proving wrong at last. He may be truly said to have feared God above many, for I think I never knew a man who seemed to live in such an habitual awe and reverence of his dread Majesty. And yet he was very clear and consistent in his views of salvation by free and sovereign grace, and rested all his hopes on the atoning blood and justifying obedience of the Son of God.

I may, perhaps, be allowed to add that he was much attached to me and my ministry, as some of my sermons, especially one published in the Penny Pulpit, “Signs Seen and Not Seen,” which he heard me preach, were much blessed to him, and laid the foundation of our long friendship. I always knew he would make a good end, and used to tell him so. But he was one of those blessed souls who can take nothing but what the Lord himself gives. He was a most consistent walker, and always much and strongly insisted on a godly life and a conversation in all things agreeable to the gospel.

And now my good old friend has entered into his rest, and I feel a sweet satisfaction in adding this slight testimony to the above account of his last days by his son, who, with his wife, nursed him most tenderly and affectionately to the end.

Joseph Philpot