The Life And Death Of Joseph Philpot

Gospel Standard 1870:

Death Of Mr. Philpot

Before this No. of the “Gospel Standard” comes before its readers, the sad tidings will have spread far and wide that he who edited it for upwards of 20 years has been called away from the scene of his labours. His numerous friends, and those who loved and esteemed him for the truth’s sake, will be looking for some little account of his last days; and one of his sorrowing children has written the following:

Joseph Charles Philpot, the third son of the late Charles Philpot, Rector of Ripple and Vicar of St. Margaret at Cliffe, was born at Ripple, near Deal, Kent, on September 13th, 1802.

He was educated at St. Paul’s School, London, whence he proceeded to Worcester College, Oxford, where he had obtained an open scholarship. After studying the usual time at the University, he graduated in 1824, taking a first class in classics; and during the next four years he was engaged in private tuition in Ireland and in Oxford. In 1829, according to his own account, he was residing at Stadhampton, a village in Oxfordshire, of which he was curate, having been some time previously ordained and elected a Fellow of his College. Already during his stay in Ireland the Lord had begun the work of grace upon his soul; but it was some years before he attained to such a full knowledge of the truths of the gospel as led him finally to secede from the Church of England. This he did in March, 1835, after much conflict, consideration, and prayer, thus giving up all his worldly prospects, and being also in delicate health, going forth, as he himself said, like Abraham, not knowing whither he went, but counting with Moses the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of Egypt. The Lord, however, has constantly appeared for him in a way of providence, and he often remarked how he could, like Huntington, write his “Bank of Faith.”

In 1838 he became pastor of the Particular Baptist church at Stamford and also of that at Oakham, where he preached on alternate Lord’s days until the year 1864, when, on account of his always delicate chest and frequent attacks of bronchitis, he was strongly advised by a medical friend to give up the ministry and move to a warmer part. Croydon was chosen, as being a warm, healthy place, where the truth was faithfully preached, and he has often said how he saw the hand of the Lord in his removal there, where he could enjoy hearing the gospel, and have the friendship of his dear friend Mr. Covell, whom he loved as a brother, and with whom he could feel such sweet union. During the summer months he felt it to be a privilege that he could again preach the blessed truths of the gospel, but seemed always glad to get into winter quarters and to enjoy the quiet of his own room, where he could read the Word and meditate and write for the good of God’s people.

During the autumn of this year, when fulfilling an engagement at Allington, his health gave way, and he had a slight attack of his old complaint, caused more by overwork than by cold. From this he recovered, and laboured with his pen, as usual, until November 21st, when he took cold; and gradually a more severe attack of bronchitis than usual came on, attended with great shortness of breath.

On Thursday, the 2nd December, he felt too ill to leave his bed, and in the evening his eldest son, Dr. Philpot, was written for from town; but as he had so frequently suffered from these attacks, no serious apprehensions were entertained as to his recovery. He refused to have any further medical advice, but when urged on Tuesday, the 7th, he consented that another doctor should be sent for, though he did not live to see him. From Sunday, the 5th, he suffered at intervals from shortness of breath, which he patiently endured, saying frequently, “O Lord, pity my case!” and, “Gracious Lord, mighty to save!” and his lips occasionally moved as if in silent prayer. He could not lie down or rest on his right side, and scarcely slept for two nights; but on Tuesday night the bronchitis was so far better that he was able to lie down, and obtained some refreshing sleep, so that on Wednesday morning we all hoped he would recover from this attack, as he had done from so many previous ones. The event proved, however, that it had been too much for his strength. About seven o’clock that evening, he appeared very much exhausted, his strength gradually failing, and towards midnight it was evident he was sinking. We were then called round his bed to take our last farewell of him we loved so much. He was perfectly conscious, knowing us all, and calmly bidding us Good-bye. His dear wife asked him if he suffered pain. He said, “No.” To his children he said, “Love one another.” “Be kind to your mother. She’s been a good wife to me, and a good mother to you all.” “Follow on to know the Lord.” After sending his parting love to various friends by name, and “the friends” and giving directions about his will and burial, he seemed to have done with earth. Then at intervals we caught these last words: “Better to die than to live!” “Mighty to save!” “Mighty to save!” This he said several times. “I die in the faith I have preached and felt.” “The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin.” “O, if I could depart and be with Christ, which is far better!” “Praise the Lord; bless his holy name.” We watched his strength gradually ebbing, and just before he departed he looked up earnestly, then closed his eyes and said, “Beautiful!” His dear wife, who was close beside him, asked, “What’s beautiful?” He made no direct answer, but presently said, with his failing voice, “Praise the Lord, O my soul!” These were his last words; and soon after this he gently passed away, at half-past three on the morning of the 9th. Croydon, December 13th.

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The following is from the pen of his dear friend, Mr. Covell:

“I would just say that our dear and highly-valued friend, Mr. Philpot, was at chapel on Sunday, Nov. 21st, though the weather was too cold for him to have prudently ventured out, on account of his weak chest; yet he was such a lover of God’s house, his truths and ordinances, that when health and weather permitted he was sure to be there. When the morning service was over, he came as usual into the vestry, expressed his feelings as to what he had heard, shook hands, and exclaimed, ‘Happy art thou, O Israel!’

“When I called upon him on the following Tuesday, he said he thought he had taken cold. I said he looked so well on the Sabbath that I had been hoping he would have taken the morning service on the first Lord’s day in December; when he replied, ‘I think my preaching is all over. I feel as if I shall not be able to preach again!’ and after some further conversation I left him. From that time he appeared very poorly, though nothing serious was apprehended; and when I called to see him on December 6th, I found him confined to his bed. When I entered his room, he said, ‘I am very ill; one of my old attacks, but more severe.’ I said, ‘How is your mind?’ ‘Dark and dead,’ said he, ‘and nothing short of a manifestation of Christ to my soul will do for me. Hart’s hymn suits me well:

‘”Come needy, come guilty, 

Come just as you are.'”

“I said, ‘God will teach us to the last our dependence upon him, for he knows the pride of our heart, that if we could do without him we would. You remember the last sermon you preached for us the sealed and open evidences. You have them, now,’ I said, ‘the open ones.’ When he answered, ‘It was for the truth, and the truth that brought him out from the Church in sincerity and faith; and then the sealed ones, O,’ he said, ‘what thousands of prayers and tears have gone up from my heart to God in secret!’ ‘Then,’ I said, ‘there is honesty of heart and the fear of God you are in possession of.’ ‘O! but,’ he replied, ‘my sins and the many things I look back upon with such shame and sorrow.’ Then I said, ‘This made Christ so fitting a Saviour that, as we came to him at first so it must be to the last, Have mercy upon us; save, or we perish! We should not get beyond it.’ Knowing how weak he was, I said I would leave him; when he asked me to read him one of Mr. Hart’s hymns and a psalm; and he said, ‘How often, when you have been tracing out spiritual evidences, I have felt and been sure I possessed them, and how my heart has echoed to them that I am sure we are one spirit.’ I read hymn 779 in Gadsby’s Selection, and said, ‘You know what these things are.’ He looked and smiled. I then read Ps. 38, and at various verses, O how he responded to them! After a few minutes in prayer, in which he responded so feelingly, we shook hands, never to see each other again in the flesh, to hear his voice, or take sweet converse together.

“I mourn his loss, and feel that I have lost one of the kindest, wisest, and most prayerful of my highly-valued and loved friends; but to him it is eternal gain. Blessed soul! Happy man! from sin and sorrow free! His praise is in all the churches; therefore I need say no more.

“Francis Covell

“Croydon, Dec, 13th.”

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The funeral took place on Thursday, Dec. 16th, in the Croydon cemetery, at three o’clock. Long before the time, many persons had assembled. It had been arranged that the chapel doors should not be opened until the mourners arrived; but as the rain came down in torrents, it was found desirable to break through that arrangement. The doors were thrown open and the chapel was not only speedily filled, but crowded, and still large numbers were outside under the arch which connects the Non-conformist chapel with the Episcopal one. The arch was, however, only a very partial protection, as the wind, which was high, blew the rain right through.

Amongst those present, our messengers collected the names of the following:

Ministers Messrs.—Blanchard, Boorne, Churcher, Clifford, Covell, Forster, Funnell, Godwin, Gordelier, Harbour, Hatton, Holden, Marshall, Maunder, Mockford, Bow, Stedman, Swonnell, and Walsh.

Deacons Messrs.—Forrest and Harris, Tabernacle, Hastings; Messrs. Funnell and Vine, Ebenezer, Hastings; Mr. Hicks, Abingdon; Mr. Knight, Liverpool; Messrs. Gladwin, Lake, and Saxby, Zoar, London; Messrs. Link and Marshall, Gower Street, London; Mr. Scott, Salem, London; Mr. Walter, Wad- hurst.

Other Friends.—Wm. Allard, Bailey, Thos. Biggs, Brown, Charlwood, Geo. Covell, Cripp, Evans, Bobt. Frost, H. Glover, Wm. Gray, Hawkins, J. S. Hinton, Jones, King, Landen, C. Marting, Geo. Matthew, John Mayhew, J. Page, S. Page, Plume, Bicketstaff, Kidley, Bobinson, Bogers, Turner, and J. T. Wood, Croydon. Messrs. E. Barber, B. Bennett, J. J. Bennicke, F. Berrington, Booth, J. Branwhite, Thos. Brown, Colley, Wm. Curzons, James Davies, B. Demetrius, Edwd. Jones Ebbs, Frewin, John, Wm., and Alfred Gadsby, B. P. Gould, Jos. Gray, Josiah Hale, James Howarth, Hunt, Alfred Jacob, A. B. Markwick, Newbury, Pattrick, Pearce, S. Poulson, W. Bichardson, Buddle, Geo. Slape, D. Smith, Stembridge, Wm. Thornton, Felix Whittome, Harry Whittome, Wm. Wilkins, J. Williams, Thos. Williams, Jas. Womack, and Young, London. Messrs. “Wm. Abraham, Westerham Hill; F. Asprey, Merton; Batcheller, Charlwood; John Batt, Epsom; James Boorne, Carshalton; John Boorne, Woolwich; Burrisse, Seven Oaks; Thos. Carr, Brixton; Church, Beckenham; Collis, Clapham; Funnell, Hastings; W. Gower, Button; F. Haffenden, Penge; Hill, Staplelmrst; Holloway, Putney; Jabez Hover, Epsom; Thos. Howard, Putney; S. Hunt, Brighton; B. H. King, Barking; B. Kingston, Wandsworth; Kirby; C. Lack, Tooting; G. Lack, Mitcham; Win. Lucas, Westerham Hill (late of Leeds); Masters, Potton; Matthew, Haddiscombe; Parks, Bromley; B. May, Staplehurst; Wm.Pawlett, Peterborough; Playfoot, Edenbridge; Wm. Khodes, Wallington; Boworth, sen., late of Nottingham; W. Bumens, Upper Mitcham; Bumsey, Kennington; David Smith, Farnborough; George Smith, Brixton; W. Taverner, Bye; Treacher, Gosport; Henry Thompson, Grantham; Wm. Turner, Brixton; Vine, Hastings; E. Walter, Maldon; A. Welman, Godalming; Horatio Weston, Sudbury; J. Whittome, New Brentford.

It was impossible to collect the names of all present, on account of the crush in the chapel and the rain outside. There were many more females present than males. All were in deep mourning. It is long since we looked upon a spectacle so affecting.

Our official reporter says: “During the whole of the time the ceremony was being performed, the rain descended in torrents, and rendered umbrellas all but useless. Inside the chapel of the cemetery the scene was very impressive. It was crowded to its utmost capacity by a sorrowful company, whilst numbers of persons, many of whom stood in the rain the whole time, were unable to gain admission. The service lasted for upwards of an hour. We regret to state that, owing to the prevailing darkness, we were not able to secure so full a report of what was said as we should have liked. It is a pity that, at this season of the year, so late an hour as three o’clock was fixed upon.”

“Punctually at three o’clock, the hearse arrived. Many of the friends in the chapel had to go out to make room for those who bore the coffin, and for the mourners Dr. Charles William Philpot and Mr. Joseph Henry Philpot. The coffin was a polished oak one, which encased a leaden one. The inscription was simply: “Joseph Charles Philpot. Died Dec. 9, 1869. Aged 67.”

Mr. Marshall gave out two verses of that well-known hymn of Hart’s:

“Sons of God, by blest adoption.”

Mr. Godwin then read part of 1 Cor. 15, and commented on the words, “By the grace of God I am what I am,” in the following terms: Who among this assembly can join the apostle from heartfelt experience, and say, “By the grace of God I am what I am?” The dear friend whose mortal remains we have before us died, bearing witness to this truth; he knew sensibly and feelingly that he was nothing spiritually but what the grace of God had made him. It was my privilege to know and to have blessed intercourse with our dear brother for the last 34 years; therefore you will not think that I am speaking unadvisedly when I say that he was one of the meekest and most childlike of men that ever the Lord took in hand. Many have thrown out insinuations relative to a stiffness and pride which characterised his life; but such persons never knew his heart. He inherited this stiffness from his mother, and he partook of it in common with his sister now living; but there are few here who could bear a stronger testimony to the love of God than he, and few could declare with so much fervid emotion, “By the grace of God I am what I am.” We have to follow him. His death teaches many lessons, but most of all the important one that time here with us is but short. I had expected to have been called hence before him, but I have outlived him, and can say for myself, as he so often said, “By the grace of God I am what I am.” No one here can justly estimate the abundant labours, and the attending results of our departed friend; God alone can do that; but this I may say, that he worked both with mind and pen early and late, but now he has gone; and, blessed be God, he has gone to the Jesus whom he loved. The labours in which he engaged were not due to his personal abilities, though they were great, or to his multifarious talents, though they were conspicuous; but they were due simply to the grace of God which made him what he was. He stopped at nothing; he never turned back; and now, after the storms and trials of life, the God he loved has landed him safe in glory.

Mr. Godwin then offered up a deep and comprehensive prayer.

Mr. Covell then addressed the company to the following effect: What a solemn reality is death! It is enough to make the infidel and the sceptic alike tremble, and blush, and be filled with confusion; for, apart from the blessed consolations of true religion, there exists nothing which can inspire one with a holy confidence in meeting with the grim tyrant. Man dies by various diseases, but few people find the real cause. If men would but turn to holy writ, they would find that “sin entered, and death by sin, and that death has passed upon all, for all have sinned.” And so, dear friends, nothing but death will remove sin from the child of God. Death, as I have said, is enough to make the scoffer and the mere professor tremble. A sound creed, a consistent life, being the member of a church, will avail nothing at death. Death sweeps all these away; but a living union to the blessed Son of God will enable the believer to swallow up death in victory, and to hail the approach of the grim tyrant as a release from the troubles and trials of earth to the joys and serenity of heaven. Look to it, sinner! Look to it, mere professor! Thou art united in the bonds of a living faith to the Redeemer or to the world. Death will dissolve all partnerships— the partnership of the husband with the wife, the parents with the children, the brother with the brother, the friend with the friend, the holy with the unholy; but with a living union to the Son of God there is no separation. The death of our dear friend is a warning voice, speaking to all the children of God. It is a warning voice, telling us to have our loins girded, our shoes upon our feet, and our lamps burning, like servants waiting for their Lord; and when he shall appear, we shall have nothing to do but to obey his summons, and say, “Come, Lord Jesus!” What a union is that which exists between soul and body! The soul is immortal, the body is of the earth, and both are held together by the breath of our nostrils, which, if suspended for one moment, dissolves the union. How slender is the thread by which we are bound to life! Sleepless nights, weakness of body, the care of physicians and friends, are all terminated by the suspension of breath. What may have been with us a struggle for months, nay, years, is terminated by death in one moment. Death is a blessed exchange for the true Christian; but let the mere professor turn from his perversity, and let him pray God to enable him to consider his latter end. In the case of our dear friend, death put him near to Jesus Christ the best position he ever had. How many sicknesses, how many recoveries and relapses he had are known to his friends, but death terminated the work in an instant; and from that there is no relapse. He can become sick no more. His racking cough has ceased to trouble him, his weakness has left him. O! What a friend to him was death! On earth he had in his own soul the substance of future joys, and he realises now the truth of the Scripture and the declaration of God that he will satisfy the desires of the righteous. He shall no more travail with pain; he shall suffer no more corruption; and thus, I repeat, death proved his best friend, in carrying him into the arms of the Son of God. Our good friend had three birthdays, and these all must experience if they ever reign with God in heaven. The first was when he was born into a world of sin and sorrow, and when the hearts of his parents were filled with gladness. But he was conceived in sin and shapen in iniquity. The next birthday was when he was born of the Spirit, and was made alive to God by Jesus Christ. The last birthday was on the 9th of December, when he dropped this mortal flesh and the heaven-born spirit ascended to the Father of mercies and the God of love. He was at the first birth led captive by the devil. Sin ruled, and ruled so as to lead him captive by its power, and conquering him by its prevailing influence. At the next birth, sin became a servant, for the Master was the love of Christ, which led him to aspire to eternal things. At the last birth, sin was nothing, for, despite its power, he entered into glory, and into the never-dying love of Christ. You all know what it is to have the first birth; would to God that all had felt the blessed experience of the second. If there are any here who have not known what it is to be born of the Spirit, I beseech you to consider this matter. You have come here to follow the remains of our dear friend to the tomb, but what an unspeakable mercy it would be were you able to follow him in faith, to follow him in truth, to follow him to eternal glory, to walk in the footsteps of the dear departed. The Holy Ghost tells us, “Whom he did foreknow, them he also called.” Then the first step to heaven is being called, “called from darkness to light and from the power of Satan unto God.” When God said, “Seek ye my face,” the heart’s response of our dear friend and brother was, “Thy face, Lord, will I seek.” His next step was repentance for sin. “O!” he used to say, “what a filthy thing is sin! What mischief there is in it!” And so, like our dear friend, we should all be animated by a hatred for sin, and turn from it. But our trust must not be in ourselves. Like our dear friend, we must look to God to free us from sin, and say, as he often said:

“Other refuge have I none,

Hangs my helpless soul on thee.”

He knew what it was to have peace in his conscience, and peace in every respect, because he knew what it was to be reconciled to God by the death of his Son. Not only did he have faith, but the witness of the Holy Ghost: “The Spirit itself beareth witness.” He had the witness in his heart: “For if we believe the testimony of man, the testimony of God is greater;” and “There are Three that bear witness in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost, and there are three that bear witness on earth, the Spirit, the water, and the blood.” The Spirit bore witness to his heart that he was a child of God. Blessed man! Happy man! He has now entered into glory, and realised what his soul longed to obtain. But we are told of the “fruits of the Spirit;” and those fruits in him were humility, meekness, and other Christian graces, whereby the world took knowledge of him that he had been with Jesus. These were some of the steps in which he walked Zionward, until at last he reached the destined place, singing, “To him that loved me, and washed me in his own blood, to him be glory, might, majesty, and dominion.”

Let us look at him in his earthly career, and see what the grace of God made him. I am not here to extol the man, but I am here to extol the faith in which he lived and in which he died. He was a man of like passions with ourselves, and had feelings, and infirmities appertaining to sinful flesh; but what he was besides was by the grace of God. He would say, “Not to myself, but to God do I owe everything;” and it was that grace that made him the man he was in all his relationships in life; and “if any child of God lack grace, let him ask of God, and it shall be given;” for our heavenly Father has no partiality, nor is there in his character a shadow of turning.

If we look at our departed friend as an editor, we shall find him exemplifying in his own life those Christian graces for which he was so distinguished. How many pens were employed against him, and how many bitter words were used! As far as they touched himself, he passed them by; but when doctrine was assailed, with what a vigour, a masterly vigour, did he tear the arguments to pieces, expose error, and defend the truth. As an editor, he had opportunities of glorifying his own name: but, except when absolutely necessary, his name never appeared. He sank his individuality in the ennobling principles for which he contended. If we look at his writings, and his Meditations, we look at something that will speak even now that he has gone. How ably he exposed error, how aptly he answered perplexing questions, how he made difficult things plain, I need not say. Thousands living have been benefited by him, and perhaps it is not too much to say that thousands now dead have in their time been the same.

If we look at him as a preacher, how bold he was in declaring truth, how masterly was his manner of dealing with scriptural passages. Thousands have hung upon his lips. It was but to proclaim his name, and the edifice in which he was to preach would be filled.

If we look at him as a Christian, we shall find him very low in his own esteem. If you had seen him as often as I have, you too could have borne testimony to the tears and the sorrows he manifested for sin. And yet, as I have said, he had an inward peace in believing which stamped him as a true child of God.

As a husband, how kind, how affectionate he was! The bereaved knows that, and for her our deepest sympathies are excited in her sad affliction.

As a father, O how anxiously and constantly did he strive for the temporal and spiritual welfare of his children!

As a friend, I can bear testimony from long intercourse to his courteous and affable manner. It might have been somewhat hard to find a place in his heart, but once found, confidence was not easily destroyed. It must ever be a source of satisfaction to me that he declared that he enjoyed my ministry. Again and again has he expressed how thankful he was to God for bringing him to Croydon.

His labour now is o’er and earthly things with him have come to an end. He is now absent from the body, but he is present with the Lord, and is singing the song of Moses and the Lamb. So may we be followers of him who through faith now inherits the promises, and may the desire come from the inmost depths of our soul, “Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.”

The crowd then left the chapel, and, forming outside, followed the coffin-bearers to the grave, which is about mid-way between the main entrance to the cemetery and the chapels.

The grave is a brick one, of considerable depth. It appeared to be as dry as a room in a house.

Owing to the torrents of rain that fell, there was no singing at the grave as proposed, and Mr. Covell made his remarks as brief as possible. As soon as the coffin was lowered into the grave, Mr. C. said: “Know you not that a great man and a prince is buried this day, proving that all flesh is as grass, and the glory of man is as the flower of grass? The gold of acquired literature that our dear departed friend possessed, and the silver of human eloquence to speak it forth, now lies silent in the dust; but John said he ‘heard a voice from heaven, saying, Write, Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord. Yea, saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labours, and their works do follow them.’ It is done; the conflict is over; the spirit has fled; Philpot, that herald sent of God to make to man his great salvation known, is dead! Let Zion’s children, weeping, kiss the rod and gird on their robes of deepest sackcloth. As the husbandman sows his seed in hope of a fruitful crop, so we commit our friend’s body to the dust, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life. And while we say, ‘Earth to earth, and dust to dust,’ yet this mortal and corruptible body shall at the Archangel’s trump be raised immortal and incorruptible, and soul and body be reunited and be for ever with the Lord, singing, ‘Salvation to God and the Lamb.'”

Mr. Godwin said a few words: “Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ, the Hope and Saviour of every poor trembling, sensible sinner who believeth in him.”

Then followed the benediction, and the mournful scene was over.

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On Dec. 12th, though before the interment of our departed friend, the pulpit at Gower Street Chapel was in deep mourning. Mr. Walsh was supplying, and took for his text in the morning, Heb. 13:8, “Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever.” In the course of his remarks, he said, “I cannot avoid noticing the changes that have taken place in the ranks of Zion’s ministers within the short compass of 27 years. Gadsby, who has justly been styled the great Apostle of the North, was then drawing near the end of a most useful and successful campaign, ready to say under the solemn anointing and power of the Holy Ghost, ‘I have fought a good fight. I have finished my course.’ And, indeed, the fight had been a mighty struggle. He stood alone many years; yet not alone, for the Lord stood by him and made him the instrument of planting, directly and indirectly, more gospel churches, contending, under the power of the Holy Spirit, for the truth, doctrinal, practical, and experimental, accompanied with the ordinances as practised and commanded by the Lord Jesus Christ, than any other man during this century or the last, or, judging from appearances, than will be in the next. Through the mighty power that attended his ministry, Warburton was brought forth to stand by his side in the conflict, and to go forth watering as Apollos of old; but evidently his final destination was not the North but the West of England; and there he was sent forth to bear the standard of the cross; with what success is well known, so into the particulars of which I need not now enter. Another, however, was, through the same means, raised up in the person of Kershaw, who may truly be termed a modern Barnabas (a son of consolation); and whilst Warburton was fighting, planting, and watering in the West, aided latterly by Mortimer, Gadsby and Kershaw were side by side in the North. M’Kenzie also was brought forth to strengthen their hands. For 15 years he went forth, by the power of God, bearing in his body the dying of the Lord Jesus. Taylor also was added to the ranks, and made and makes an able minister of the Spirit, with others I cannot now name. We now turn to the South, and there the Lord was preparing, in the persons of Tiptaft and Philpot, two men in the Church of England, and bringing them out, making them ‘mighty, through God, to the pulling down of strong holds,’ God making the thundering appeals and thousand questions of the one as pointed arrows and swords, ‘piercing to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit,’ and the preachings and writings of the other as of a man wondered at, and enduring hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. Indeed it may truly be said that he fell a glorious conqueror through our Lord Jesus Christ, with his harness buckled on, preparing to enter on another year’s campaign, and contemplating commencing it by the New Year’s Address, when almost instantly he was commanded to halt and lie down, slip through his harness, put off his weak, frail tabernacle, to be adorned in the pure garments of salvation, righteousness, and praise, and be presented before his Lord, King, and Saviour, to hear the blessed welcome, ‘Come, thou blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for thee from the foundation of the world.’ And now, instead of a New Year’s Address to the sorrowing woman in the wilderness he is employed above, casting his crown before his adorable Redeemer, and, in an eternal New Year’s Address, without a frail body, difficulty of breathing, fearful of another bronchitic attack, or weighted down with the weakness of the flesh, but with immortal lungs, where the inhabitants never say, ‘I am sick,’ and where the shafts of slander, persecution, or scorn can never enter, but amongst that innumerable army of patriarchs, prophets, apostles, martyrs, and his fellows in arms who have gone before, ascribing salvation to God and the Lamb for ever and ever. He shall hunger no more, nor thirst any more; but, in the fulness of joy at God’s right hand, and in his presence for evermore, be ever singing, without weariness, ‘Unto him that loved us and washed us from our sins in his own blood, to him be glory for ever and ever. Amen.’ We need not be told that ‘a prince and a great man has fallen in Israel’ (2 Sam. 3:38), one who was ‘a faithful man and who feared God above many;’ for the fact is more deeply engraven in our hearts than a thousand tongues can tell or pens describe. Not to speak of many others I cannot call to mind, I look on Zion and say, Where are the nobles (Jer. 30:21) I have spoken of? Most of them taken away from the evil to come—Gadsby, Warburton, M’Kenzie, Tiptaft, Mortimer, and now Philpot, all gone to reap an eternal reward. Having done the will of God, they now inherit the promise. Kershaw is laid aside, waiting the command of his Governor (Jer. 30:21); Taylor is still labouring with that strength and vigour it pleases God to give him; Dangerfield is also, for a time at least, laid aside. Again, I say, What changes! But O what a mercy that, though Jesus was dead, he is now alive for evermore, and holds the keys of hell and death; and, bless his dear name, he is ‘the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.’ To human reason there appears a dark future in Zion’s prospects; but faith says, ‘All power is given to Christ (her Head) in heaven and in earth, and he who has power to take away has also power to raise up more faithful labourers and send them into his vineyard. O that he would graciously be pleased to pour out a spirit of prayer and supplications upon his own dear family, and bring to their remembrance his saying, ‘I will yet for this be inquired of by the house of Israel to do it for them;’ and be brought with submission to say,

“‘When and wherever thou shouldst smite 

Teach me to own thy sovereign right, 

And underneath the heaviest load

Be still, and know that thou art God.'”

The pulpit at Zoar, Great Alie Street, was also put in black on the 12th.

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My dear Friend, I duly received yours, in which was communicated the departure of our dear brother in the Lord and fellow-labourer in the vineyard of the Son of God, dear Mr. Philpot, to be for ever with the Lord.

I deeply feel the loss of him on my own account, but more especially mourn his removal from us on the behalf of the church, whose willing servant he has been for so many years. My acquaintance with him commenced soon after he left the Established Church. He being invited to supply your dear father’s pulpit, I went to Manchester to hear him, and was introduced to him by the deacons; after which I supped with him at your house; and thus began a friendship which has met with no interruption, but rather increased, as we have met and preached together in different places, and corresponded on matters connected with the church of God. The Lord called him to a great work, and ever held him firm to the truth, as he did Jeremiah: “A defenced city, and an iron pillar, and brazen walls,” against error and in the defence of the truth.

When I was lying, to all appearance, at the edge of the grave, he sent a most sympathising letter to my dear wife. The Lord grant that the blessings he desired might rest upon her may be abundantly bestowed upon his dear wife and children.

The words of David respecting Abner are suitable on this occasion: “Know ye not that there is a prince and a great man fallen this day in Israel?” (2 Sam. 3:38.) But I need not enlarge. His labours are known and prized by the living family: “And he being dead yet speaketh.” The pen that wrote is laid aside, and the heart that dictated by the teaching of the blessed Spirit has ceased its labours; but the immortal spirit is now in open vision with a Triune Jehovah whom he so delighted to honour.

I have consulted my deacons, and we shall put the pulpit in mourning. I should not have mentioned this, but you requested to know.

Through mercy I get a little strength, and went into the pulpit a little time last Sabbath afternoon.

I remain, Yours affectionately,

Hope Chapel House, Rochdale, 

John Kershaw

Dec. 11, 1869.

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My dear Friend, When yours, announcing the death of dear Philpot, came to hand, I little expected such a message; but such are the ways of our God with men: “In such an hour as ye think not the Son of man cometh.”

How solemnly grand and yet afflicting, to think that our dear friend is no more among the sons of men below? Well, he has “fought a good fight,” and entered into rest! How easy to observe the hand of God in your laying aside your paper, that your attention may wholly, for the time, be turned to the “Standard.” I can but admire this. God Almighty direct you, and supply you with every needful thing, for the church’s sake.

Reflecting on your words, “He passed peacefully away,” my soul felt a little of that sweetness which is akin to spiritual worship, mingling with holy submission to God’s will.

The absence (I will not say the loss) of our dear friend and valuable brother, will be much felt. Many will mourn over the blank; but, remembering the words of Jesus, “Lo, I am with you alway,” will cheer the mind, and draw the heart of the child of sorrow away from man, whose breath is in his nostrils, and little to be accounted of, remembering that the Redeemer will retain his own glory.

That our dear brother was made very useful will not be doubted by any real lover of the truth as it is in Jesus. The churches of Christ in England, and other lands also, knew the power of his pen, perhaps more than his preaching, as he certainly excelled in the communication of his mind in writing. Such was God’s gift in him. That he stood firm in the doctrines of the gospel was the work of God upon his heart, and that, in wielding the sword of the Spirit, the Lord taught his hands to war and his fingers to fight, those who opposed the truth he defended know full well. That memorable and able work on the Eternity of God the Son. our glorious Daysman, will pass down from father to son, and from mother to daughter, in the family of Zion for ages to come; while the savour of Philpot’s name will be felt by those who need that mighty One upon whom God the Father “laid help,” whose name is called the “Word of God,” who hath spoken to us in these last days, by whom also God made the world, and appointed him heir of all things.

Our brother’s life, since he stood in the church of Christ, reminds one of the life of Jeremiah the prophet, one of “contention.” When I last dined with him at our late brother Clowes’s in London, he told me that no less than thirty books had been written against him by one and another; so that his mind must have had great and heavy exercises.

Ever ready to answer the inquiries of weak minds, he stood at the door of the “Gospel Standard” to open or shut its pages as his judgment and will decided. Clear and sound in doctrine, possessing much information, great penetration, and no small amount of that wisdom which cometh down from above, qualifying him for his work of faith and labour of love; and when we further consider that he was also perfectly master of the Greek language (no small acquisition to a Bible student), that he was of a studious mind, and a ready writer, we can but admire the hand of God in bringing him out of that strange “Establishment,” the Church of England, a great number of whose members are groping their way back to Rome, from whence it came, as fast as circumstances will allow, and placing him in the church of the Lord Jesus Christ to be a standard-bearer in our Zion. O how different his path to theirs! “My soul, come not thou into their secret.”

Our brother had read, carefully and prayerfully, no doubt, Paul’s beautiful comparison of himself to a wise master-builder, having laid the “great foundation,” “Jesus Christ,” and, listening to Paul’s instructions, took heed how he built thereon, the churches of Jesus know. The gold, the silver, and the precious stones, our brother built upon the Rock of Ages, and the day also will declare it when every man’s work shall be tried as by fire. O, that day of trial for the sons of Levi! when those who have tampered with God’s truth, God’s worship, and God’s ordinances, shall see their wood, hay, and stubble all on fire, and God himself rewarding the faithful stewards. (1 Cor. 3)

I cannot help thinking of, and also sympathising with, those who are looking forward to the New Year’s Address, who have counted upon seeing again the good, substantial, and weighty matter such as it often contained, how disappointed many will feel; and, however good an address may be supplied, many, even of the Lord’s dear people, will not be able to look beyond the man to the matter. Time, however, will work wonders, as our God has his way in the whirlwind.

May those in our own land, and in the far West and South, to whom your next No. shall carry the solemn tidings, feel the high sovereignty of their heavenly Father, and remember, though our brother is gone, that he is present with the Lord.

Manchester. 

A. B. Taylor

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My dear Friend, Before I received yours, a friend had communicated to me the mournful intelligence of the departure out of time into eternity of our mutual friend Philpot.

We cannot for one moment mourn on his behalf, dying was his gain. “Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord, from henceforth. Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours, and their works do follow them.” This is his case. No more shall Satan vex and tease his happy soul; no more shall sin, sickness, pain, or loss disturb his peaceful spirit. His labours are done. His soul was in the work of the Lord; there was his treasure and there was his heart, His was a great work. God raised him up, especially fitted and fully qualified him for that honourable position in which he placed him a minister of the Lord Jesus Christ and an editor; both of which he discharged faithfully to God and his own conscience. His labour was not in vain in the Lord. God abundantly blessed him in preaching and in writing. There is a cloud of witnesses still left, and a cloud now before the throne who can attest this. Hundreds have blessed God for raising him up, and thousands yet unborn will praise him for the same; for he “being dead, yet speaketh.”

Once particularly his ministry was much blessed to me. It is now several years since. He was to preach at Beeston, and I walked over to hear him. Before service I went and saw him, when he appeared, as I thought, distant. This Satan took the advantage of, and filled my mind with prejudice. I felt determined not to hear him profitably; yea, more, I made up my mind, if possible, to pull to pieces what he did say. Indeed, to such an extent was Satan permitted to work in me that when Mr. Philpot entered the chapel, enmity rose in my heart, and, to my shame, a hope that God would shut him up and confound him before all the people. At length he rose, and gave out his text: Jude 20,21. He first spoke of the Lord’s people being loved of God, then of each other. How the Lord broke down all prejudice that was in my heart. Strange to tell, the very feelings I was under he minutely described. The wall of evil surmisings which Satan had raised in me fell before the sound of the truth of the gospel like the walls of Jericho before the ram’s horns. My soul was like a watered garden under the sermon. I blessed the Lord, and blessed the preacher in the name of the Lord. After service I went again and saw him. I said to him, “Frown or smile, it will make no difference to me. I am unworthy your notice; but God has blessed my soul this night.” Never was one Christian more familiar with another than he with me. We wept together. “Never do I,” said he, “remember preaching more in the Spirit than I have preached this night.” We drank into one spirit, and parted that night with mutual blessings in our mouths. “The memory of the just is blessed.”

Error and erroneous men fell before our friend’s weighty sermons and powerful pen, like Dagon before the Ark, or like Goliath before David, or like the empty oratory of Tertullus before Paul’s words of truth and soberness. Undaunted by frowns, regardless of reproach, he went forward in his beloved work, upheld by the grace of God. Neither caresses, on the one hand, nor threatenings, on the other, could deter him from his delightful work, which he pursued unto the end. Like Asher, he dipped his foot in oil, and was acceptable unto his brethren.

And thus finished his course with joy and peace.

The Lord permitting, I have given notice to preach a funeral sermon next Lord’s day. 

Yours affectionately,

J. Warburton

Southill, Dec. 13th, 1869.

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My dear Friend, Thanks for your note, informing me of the loss you and thousands of others have met with in the departure of dear Mr. Philpot. Isa. 26:19 flowed into my mind on reading it, and I took that Scripture for my text yesterday, and announced the circumstance which led to it.

A few of us meet to-night, to arrange about putting the pulpit in black.

I purpose (D.V.) attending the funeral. I suppose the time you name is when the service will commence.

Yours affectionately,

John Forster

Hastings, Dec. 11, 1869.

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Dear Friend, The New Year’s No. of the “Gospel Standard” will announce the death of its justly-valued editor. His pen is laid aside for ever, and his tongue lies silent in the grave. The letter from his daughter conveying the mournful intelligence, and inviting me, with my dear friend Godwin, to follow his mortal remains to the tomb, saddened my heart greatly. I had hoped that he might have been spared a little longer to the church of Christ, and I trusted to have yet awhile enjoyed the privilege of his wise counsel.

The church has lost a faithful servant, and I have lost a valued friend. He was a bold, unflinching, uncompromising advocate of truth. All who knew him admired the honesty of the man. Scarcely would his greatest detractors dare to question his thorough conscientiousness. For conscience’ sake he left the Church of England, of which he was an ordained minister; and though a young man, and possessed of great gifts and learning, with every promise of distinction before him in his profession, he laid his ambition down, with all his worldly prospects, at the feet of Christ, and sacrificed all for truth. And truth being dearer to him than wealth or fame, he cast in his lot among the people of God, the poor and needy followers of Jesus Christ. He possessed an influence in the churches which he had well earned by his long and faithful services and his godly life. His place will not easily be filled. A man, however gifted, and whatever the measure of grace he possesses, must be years in the confidence of the people of God ere he can exercise the power in the churches which Joseph Charles Philpot did. His great natural gifts, his polished learning, and his large measure of grace he employed in the best of all causes, the cause of God and truth; and the lovers of truth honoured him, and he was worthy of all honour.

How true a friend he was I can testify, and I deeply feel my loss. True friends are not so abundant that we can afford to lose one. I never knew how much I loved him till I heard that he was gone. How glad I am that I never grieved him; how sorry that I had not valued him more! Long shall I remember his oft-repeated kindnesses in encouraging me in the work of Christ, and his constant solicitude for my welfare.

As a friend, I could but bear this feeble testimony to his worth, as you requested. “The memory of the just is blessed.”

Yours in Jesus, 

Frederick Marshall

Dec. 20, 1869

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My dear Sir, Having heard of the great loss you and the church of Christ have sustained by the death of our much esteemed friend Mr. Philpot, we feel solemnly and sorrowfully affected by it, and desire to express our sympathy with you, and also his family, and the church at large, at so great a loss; for we know of none who have been so highly favoured an instrument in the hand of the Lord. And did we not believe the Lord will not leave himself without his witnesses, we should feel his loss an irreparable one. But all power both in heaven and on earth is the Lord’s; therefore we know he can, if he pleases, raise up one to supply the loss. May we and the church at large have a spirit of prayer poured out upon us to wrestle with him, as Lord of the harvest, to raise up and send forth more faithful labourers into his vineyard. Still we can but think of the Lord’s mercy in sparing him so long. May the Lord direct you, if his pleasure, to find another efficient editor for the “Gospel Standard,” that its usefulness may be continued.

These are a few of the many feeling desires of a small section of the church of Christ meeting at Zoar Chapel, Canterbury, for and toward you and the church at large.

John Halke

21, Havelock Street, Canterbury, Dec. 14, 1869

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My dear Friend,…I do so much feel Mr. Philpot’s death! I am sure it is a great loss to the church in many places. And the “Standard!” dear Mr. Gadsby, what a trial and responsibility to you, as now left! I can only hope and pray that grace may be given you, at this time, to write and to manage. It seems to me such a great weight of responsibility. I do hope you may not choose any other one to take Mr. P.’s place in a hurry. No light, forward man would be fit for such an office, and those are just the ones who would be ready. You know my dearest husband was one of your oldest friends, and was from the first what would be called “a ‘Standard’ man;” and how he would have felt it had he been now alive! There seems no such man left as your dear father or M’Kenzie. So many things are wanted in an author; so much weight, and power, and solemnity. It is a different gift to preaching.

May the Lord be with you at this time, and direct every word and every thought. So prays 

Your sincere Friend,

Emma Brown

18, Preston Street, Brighton, Dec. 11th. 

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A Few Verses

To The Honoured And Beloved Memory Of Mr. J. C. Philpot, Who, By The Sovereign Grace Of God, Was Made As Bold As A Lion Against All False Professors, But As A Nursing Father To All Real Possessors. The Savour Of His Name, Like Bunyan’s, Huntington’s, Gadsby’s, Toplady’s, And Other Of God’s Nobels, Will Ever Be Like Fragrant Flowers, And Sweet Spices In The Spirit-Taught Churches Of Christ, And In Every Spirit-Taught Heart Till The End Of Time.

Soldier of Christ, well done!

Thy last great battle’s over, thy last great victory won, 

One with that noble army, who through fire and flame,

That noble army of martyrs, who through tribulation came.

Methinks the song of the ransomed binds my spirit like a spell; 

Another jewel for Jesus raised to glories none can tell;

Another blood-bought trophy of free and sovereign grace,

To gaze through all eternity on the great Redeemer’s face.

At Sinai’s fiery mountain thy first lesson was learnt well,

That the brightest of creature righteousness deserves the lowest hell. 

Yes, thou didst learn full well in dark temptation’s hour

That man could only destroy himself by his free will and power.

As Jesus wept o’er Lazarus, so do we weep o’er thee;

Next to the great Immanuel, O how we loved thee!

And what was this great secret which won our deepest love?

‘Twas thy righteous lion-like boldness, with the meekness of the dove.

In thee we clearly saw Immanuel’s glorious face,

Sign’d with his royal signet, so full of truth and grace,

From the first sigh of penitence to the moment of thy death,

Free grace, in its power and purity, was the theme of every breath.

But thou hadst two great realities, which vultures never saw,

Life in a precious Jesus, death in a fiery law;

O! Wondrous saving mystery, God manifest in flesh,

Reveal’d in thy soul’s great weakness, in the hour of deep distress.

Another secret thou didst learn, that vultures never knew,

The opening of Nature’s living tomb, a fearful nameless crew,

Led by the Spirit, thou couldst discern false Achan’s wedge of gold, 

And all those groves and idols to mortal ear ne’er told.

But thousands of false professors, with a sepulchre within, 

Like the old scribes and pharisees, a name to live they win, 

Like bees they came about thee, to sting thee unto death; 

Thirty-seven erroneous books came from their poison’d breath.

But like thy great Master with the Spirit’s two-edged sword, 

They fell like rotten wood before thy mighty word;

I heard thee in thy spiritual youth, through life until the last, 

Where are now thy bitter enemies, the present and the past?

What thy hand touched it realised of God’s tremendous word, 

In judgment or in mercy, both were the Spirit’s sword,

And all those pleasant pictures, which once so brightly shone, 

By the law-curse in thy conscience were now for ever gone.

And as thou felt, so thou didst preach, and sinners boldly tell, 

The law for ever condemn’d them down to the lowest hell;

Then when the Day-star in thy heart rose by the Spirit’s power,

Thou wouldst tell them ’twas the earnest of salvation’s glorious hour.

And when in thy soul Immanuel with unclouded glory shone, 

And the Father smiled upon thee in his beloved Son,

Clothed with Christ’s righteousness, and sheltered ‘neath his blood, 

Like Paul in holy triumph, in Gower Street thou hast stood.

A king and a priest to God, there did thy spirit trace

The heights and depths, the lengths and breadths, of free and sovereign grace,

The Spirit hovering o’er thee, with his double anointing power, 

Proclaim’d in the law-wrecked sinner his condemnation o’er.

Hark to his dying words: “Better to die than live!” 

Our broken hearts and weeping eyes, dear Lord, to thee we give, 

Our Jesus, Counsellor, and Friend, God’s well-beloved Son.

Holy Spirit give us submission! God’s will must e’er be done.

“In the faith of the truths I have preached, I lay me down to die!” 

These were the dear man’s words; this was his holy cry.

Hark again how he sweetly speaks: “Bless the Lord, my soul.” 

And his ransomed spirit took its flight beyond sin’s dark control.

Philpot, like Israel’s great Commander, gave up all for Christ; 

He saw Him who was invisible, who for him laid down his life, 

And like his glorious Master, he counted well the cost,

And gladly for the reproach of Christ Egypt’s great treasures lost.

Like a rich bed of roses, thy name shall ever stand,

Till the archangels’ trump is heard o’er earth, and sea, and land.

Yes, like a fragrant bed of spices, in our hearts thou wilt ever bloom, 

For a double immortality is written on thy tomb.

With Bunyan, Gadsby, Huntington, and with ten thousand more, 

Through fire and flood thou hast landed on Immanuel’s happy shore; 

And with those immortal ones wearing their martyr’s crown,

For ever the greatest debtor, and kneeling the lowest down.

All that he was as a Christian and as a minister we trace

To the rich covenant of free and sovereign grace;

Therefore from the church militant and the ransom’d host above. 

To the glorious Triune Jehovah shall rise our song of love.

W.