The Life And Ministry Of William Westhorpe

Gospel Standard 1870:

Died on 25^th June, 1869, at Burnham, Essex, aged 73, William Westhorpe, Baptist minister.

The Lord convinced him of his awful state as a sinner when young, residing at Billericay, in his native county; which convictions never left him finally until he was brought into the liberty of the gospel. A severe thunderstorm taking place at Billericay laid the foundation of his convictions. He became seriously impressed in his mind and dejected in spirit. A fair coming off some time afterwards, he promised himself he would not go there; but when the time arrived he found he had not power to withstand the temptation. Still he felt conscience testifying against him, and when he entered the dancing-room, guilt and shame were felt within, and he could not take pleasure in it as heretofore. He felt determined to mend his ways and get better. He read the Scriptures, particularly the New Testament, feeling at times a melting of soul in reading of the sufferings of Christ. He also concluded to double his diligence in going to church and paying all attention possible, and to live more like a Christian. He felt also a great antipathy against Dissenters, believing there could be no true religion out of the Church of England. Standing one day in the church at Rayleigh, he looked round with admiration. Three boys, dressed in white, were standing on each side of the organ, the minister at the same time having his gown on; it seemed so solemn and grand an appearance, he was enamoured and elated; so much so that he said, “Ah! This is the place. This is the place.”

He removed to Rochford and drove the mail cart to Ingate-stone, 22 miles, leaving Rochford at 6 p.m., making his night’s journey, 44 miles there and back. He was induced to go to the Independent Chapel at Rochford. He felt much impressed with the minister, as he appeared solemn, kind, and affectionate; and he concluded now, “This must be the place!” He was very strict in his attention, attendance, and devotion; so that he became much thought of and was soon proposed as and became a member of the church. One of the eldest members told him when he approached the communion table he must go to the bottom and look up to the minister as if he was looking at Christ. Speaking on this point in after days, he said, “What awful delusion! Who can conceive or describe the blindness of the human heart when void of spiritual light?”

The minister was much pleased with his new member, and the church likewise, as he was with his religion, while he thought himself a wonderful Christian. When he was admitted into the church he was not asked a single question about his religion, nor how he came by it; and as to a law work, he believed they were ignorant of it.

Soon afterwards the Lord was pleased to deepen the work in his soul, by laying guilt on his conscience as a heavy burden, too heavy to be borne. The terrors of the Almighty stuck fast in him like arrows from his bow, and he could truly say the poison thereof drank up his spirits. So low did he sink under the burden of sin, he greatly feared he should sink into perdition. He found Mr. Hart describe his case in that hymn:

“Lord, when thy Spirit descends to show 

The badness of our hearts,

Astonished at the amazing view, 

The soul with horror starts” &c.

He continued to drive the night mail. His terror and distress increasing, he was compelled to go on his knees on the footboard of the cart, confessing his sins and crying for mercy. Referring to this part in after days he would say, ”Remembering my affliction and my misery, the wormwood and the gall. My soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled within me.” (Lam. 3:19, 20.) He said “Such were the awful temptations I was labouring under, my soul chose strangling, and death rather than life. Yea, many times was compelled to drop on my knees and beg of God to preserve me before I dared take a razor to shave myself. The spirituality of God’s law worked so powerfully in my conscience that it affected my bodily frame. My flesh wasted away, and I believed God was about to cut me off with pining sickness. It was commonly reported that Bill the mailman was going crazy; and I thought so myself. It was also reported that I prayed to the horse, because I had been heard praying on my knees at the bottom of the cart.”

He could not conceal his distress or keep from crying to God for mercy for months, except at intervals. One night, being on his knees as usual, the cushion fell from the seat and was lost. His wife and mother-in-law made a new one; when finished, he inquired where they got the hay from to stuff it with. The reply was, out of such a person’s stack. On learning this, he threw the cushion down, saying, “I won’t touch it; I won’t have it. It’s a theft; it’s robbery.” Such was the tenderness of his conscience. He possessed the fear of the Lord, which caused him to depart from the ways of death. Also, when a youth, he had left unpaid 9s. After a period of nine years he went and paid it, which would not have been done but for the grace of God. “What a fearful thing it is to meet with some professing godliness not possessed of common honesty. It being ordinance day he went to the minister and told him he had so heavy a weight of guilt on his conscience he had better not come to the table. The minister reproved him, and said the ordinance was intended to ease the mind in distress. Moreover, he replied, “I hear you go into the stable and out-houses crying and groaning with the Bible open in your hands. I cannot make out the reason of your doing so. May I deny it if I hear it again?” He said, “Yes;” thus a lie was extorted from him, which added more guilt to his already heavy weight.

Sometimes he had some transient gleam of hope from portions of God’s word; but they were soon dashed away. He once saw a beauty and glory in Dan. 3:24, 25, the Son of God walking in the midst of the burning fiery furnace with his three dear children, thus protecting and delivering them. He after this he was established in the blessed and glorious truth of the eternity of the Sonship of the dear Lord. Rev. 5:6, with other Scriptures, humbled and melted him down into tears of contrition and holy awe, which eased him of his burden for a time; but it returned with greater violence. He searched God’s word as for hid treasure: “but the burden of guilt, the requirements of God’s most holy law condemning for a single thought his holiness and majesty searching me, made me tremble.” Heb. 3:16 set forth his case truly.

In speaking of his fearful exercises, he said, “I felt such fiery, temptations, which made my blood, as it were, chill in my veins, and my hair stand erect on my head. One night I went into a held at Ingatestone in all the horror of mind of a guilty criminal. It was about half-past ten o’clock. Looking at a stile, I said, ‘I will pray;’ but the devil said, ‘You shall not.’ He threw his fiery darts so thick and fast, I thought I could smell the brimstone of the bottomless pit. I said, ‘Surely this is hell, and I have got it in my conscience.’ At that time Satan did prevail: I was frightened from my knees. He had tried often, but I only remember him succeeding this once. One woman said it was a law-work I was passing through; but I knew no more what she meant than if she had spoken Arabic, for in all those six years I was connected with those professors called Independents, I never heard a real gospel sermon.

“About two and a half miles from Ingatestone there stood a guide post, pointing two ways; I used to get there about half-past midnight. It was represented to me that this post, with its two arms, represented the cross on which the dear Lord was crucified. I used to get out of my cart and hang upon it, begging mercy on a poor lost sinner. I would cry twenty times together, ‘Mercy, Lord! If thou canst have mercy, do have mercy.’ Many times have I done this. At times I greatly feared I should lose my senses, I felt so lost in my mind.

“I had lent to me Boston’s ‘Four-fold State of Man,’ the latter part of which speaks of the punishment of the lost in hell, swimming in the wrath of God. I read until my head seemed to stand on my heels, and my blood to chill in my veins, and as if I was sinking into the bowels of despair. I returned the book, not being able to read it out. I went up into my garret where I slept, about half-past four o’clock in the morning, and on my knees I prayed to Almighty God to have mercy on my distracted and horror-stricken soul; and, bless his dear name, he did not let me sink. At another time, being in the same place and attitude, I fell asleep, being exhausted. When I awoke, I felt as if I were full of devils. Ps. 110:7, 8, bespoke my case. How feelingly could I utter the language of the psalmist!

“I now come to the night previous to that great deliverance the Lord wrought for me. I left Ingatestone at midnight, as usual, and was on my knees all the way to Rochford, except when I gave the bags in at the different post-offices. I have said I believe it to be solemnly true no Arminianism could live in these fires; they burn up dross and tin.

“‘Nought but the grains of gospel gold 

Will ever stand the trying day 

When like a scroll together roll’d, 

The starry heavens shall pass away.’

“In this journey Satan seemed let loose upon me; so that, when I left Ingatestone for Wickford (ten miles), my senses left me for a short time. I verily believed that I should sink to rise no more; but, bless the dear Lord, whose matchless grace and mercy was over my poor benighted soul for good, who heard my cries, delivered me, and set me in a large room the next evening on my return journey. When about a mile from Wickford, I felt a soft sensation come over me, and a light seemed to shine around me, yea, in me, that I cannot describe. It was a very dark night in winter, about eight o’clock. The contents of the last fifteen verses of Luke 7 entered my soul. It was a night never to be forgotten, especially when those words came: ‘And he said unto her, Thy sins are forgiven!’ I cannot describe my feelings to the full; my heart was like wax before the flame, the way of salvation was opened up to my mind in such a way. I saw the dear Lord in Simon’s house, and the dear woman standing behind him, weeping and washing his feet with tears of holy contrition and godly sorrow, my soul overflowed with joy and praise. The words were repeated again and again: ‘Thy sins are forgiven;’ yes, ‘Thy sins are all forgiven.’ I have compared the impression on my mind to a hot iron, or a seal on the wax. It was the engraving, the sealing of the Spirit on my soul. Was she a five-hundred-pence debtor? So was I. Did she wash the Lord’s feet with her tears? So did I in my feelings. Did she anoint his dear head with ointment? So did I. Did she love him, having much forgiven? So did I. In a word, I embraced the dear Lord in the arms of my faith, and clasped him to my bosom as my Lord and my God. O glorious night, never to be forgotten! I could say I had found him of whom Moses in the law and prophets did write, Jesus of Nazareth, the king of the Jews. Thus I was translated out of the kingdom of Satan into that of God’s dear Son. Guilt, darkness, and bondage fled away, and light, liberty, peace, love, and joy reigned instead. The law’s loud thunders were hushed to a calm. Holy peace ensued through the peace-speaking blood of Jesus Christ. Thus in very deed old things passed away, and all things became new. My former miserable dejected countenance became brightened, my load of guilt being gone; my poor body, which was brought so very low, was now strengthened. Having been the subject of general conversation all along the road where I drove the mailcart, now the exclamation was, ‘What a change has taken place with the mailman! We thought,’ said they, ‘he was going mad, but now he is in his right mind, and looking better.’

“I was still with the general Dissenters at Rochford. I did not know one among them that knew anything of spiritual bondage or liberty. I kept close to the Scriptures of truth, and searched them as for hid treasure, and the Lord gave me such an appetite for the truth, that, by little and little, my understanding became enlightened into the glorious doctrines of grace.”

“Those glorious doctrines distilled into my soul like holy fragrance and sacred dew, which appeared wonderful to me. I had not then heard them preached, hut as they blessedly flowed into my soul I spoke them out with my tongue.

“One Lord’s day, standing in the chapel-yard after the prayer-meeting talking with the friends, I spoke of the doctrine of election, and the everlasting love of God to a peculiar people predestinated to eternal life before the foundation of the world. I told them the preaching I sat under did not feed my soul. The deacons looked at me, then the people all seemed astonished, and looked one at another. At last the decision was, ‘He (myself) must go to Prettiwell,’ which was about two miles and a half from Rochford, at which place a few poor, God-fearing people met in a cottage for worship, and had a minister occasionally. I had heard of them previously, but was afraid to go near, as report said they were Antinomians and lived in sin; but, being tired out at R., I said to my wife, ‘I will go to P. the next time they have a preacher.’ She was quite agreeable, as the Lord had wrought upon her effectually, so that she could not get on with the ministry we sat under. Accordingly we went and heard for ourselves. The preacher’s name was James Stephens, a builder. He preached in a poor man’s cottage. It was in 1823, or 1824. I heard he was a member with a Mr. Burnett, Baptist minister, Woolwich. It proved a joyful day to us, the first gospel preaching we had ever heard. The text was Isa. 9:6: ‘The government shall be upon his shoulder.’ I looked at the man with astonishment, for he blessedly entered into my feelings, and traced out the work of God in my soul. He spoke also of the bondage, temptations, and fiery darts of Satan I had been labouring under; also how God could be just and the justifier of the ungodly; yea, many things that had passed between God and my soul. I did not need to ask any one if it was truth; I had the witness in my heart.

“The following Lord’s day I went to my old chapel at R., where I had attended the six years of my distress, trouble, and bondage. The minister had his text chosen for the circumstance, and sermon written out ready for me; but, although his arrows flew thick and fast, blessed be the Lord, they went beyond me. One and another of the friends smiled, as they knew well who he was levelling at. I spoke to one who sat near me, ‘You will not see me here any more yet.’

“During the next week I heard that Mr. Collins, of Maldon (whose obituary appeared in the ‘Gospel Standard’ for March, 1861), was going to preach at Thundersly, near Rayleigh. I got a piece of bread and cheese, and set off across the fields, about five miles and a half. I was late. The dear man of God had taken his text, Dan. 2:21. Here I was at home. He entered into many of my bitters and sweets, my ups and downs, the ins and outs my soul had passed through; he spoke largely also of the work of the Spirit in the heart in contrast with the empty profession of the day, and with great emphasis repeated those lines of Watts’s:

“‘He calls the fool and makes him know 

The myst’ries of his grace,

To lay aspiring wisdom low, 

And all its pride abase.’

“I felt my soul united to the dear man, which was never removed, and he lived to reach his ninety-second year.”

Mr. W. had many tossings about in providence as well as in soul matters. He was a baker some years, also a gentleman’s coachman. He then removed to Great Wakering, Essex, and kept a shop, and ultimately added leather cutter and seller. It was when living here he frequently became a correspondent of the “Gospel Standard,” in the first years of its publication, both in prose and verse, his signature being generally “W. W., Great Wakering, Essex.” He ceased to correspond and write, either to magazines or otherwise, on account of a long and severe affliction, causing great weakness, especially in the hands. It was while residing here also he buried his wife and nine children in about twelve months. In April, 1839, he remarried.

“Soon after the Lord had blessed me,” he says, “with pardoning love, I felt an impression on my mind to tell poor sinners what he had done for my soul; so that the work of the ministry was with me night and day. I entreated the Lord to remove it, feeling my ignorance and weakness so much; also the importance of the work made me tremble. About 1833 I used to meet with a few people in a poor man’s house, no gospel ministry being in the neighbourhood, for reading the scriptures and prayer, one of the friends commenting a little on the word. This person urged me to assist him; but I trembled from head to foot, greatly fearing I should do wrong. He continued his request; so I said one evening I would try. I did so. I read John 4, and I was greatly helped; so my mouth was opened to speak a little, my heart was enlarged, and I had the witness in my soul I had experienced the truth I then so feebly testified of.

“Soon after this, I had business to transact at Burnham, and at that time there were a few of the Lord’s poor met in a room. Mr. Collins preached for them once a month. Having to remain the evening, I met with them for prayer, and as they had heard I had commented a little on the word, they wished me to do so to them. No sooner had I been requested to conduct the meeting than my trembling and shaking came upon me. Nevertheless, I made an attempt. I read, prayed, and spoke a little, as the Lord enabled me. The friends expressed themselves to be edified and comforted. They also desired me to visit them once a month. I felt daily a deep sense of my ignorance and insufficiency, and when I had done speaking I could have hid my head out of sight of the people, concluding I could never speak again. Nevertheless, the friends testified again and again of the Lord blessing the word, would not give way to my complaints, but urged me to get into the pulpit. I told them I dared not go there, the very thought made me tremble. In 1838 there was a small chapel to let at Burnham, formerly belonging to the Wesleyans; a friend hired the chapel, the one we now occupy. After this, I sank fathoms, concluding I could never enter a pulpit while the thought of putting my hand to the gospel plough and looking back filled we with terror. I cried earnestly to the Lord, to show me if I erred and dishonoured his precious name in proclaiming the wonders of redeeming love to poor sinners. I could appeal to his dear Majesty, I did it not for gain, receiving nothing for my services, nor did I wish for anything. I thought I was well paid if the dear Lord made me in any measure a help to his poor afflicted people. In my great trial and exercise he enabled me to keep close to his word and a throne of grace. I rose from my knees one evening in great fear and perplexity, having asked the Lord, if I sinned in speaking in his dear name, he would take away the great desire I had to do so, or give me some token of his approbation; and, bless his dear name, these words came powerfully and sweetly into my soul: ‘I will make all my goodness pass before thee;’ which he did abundantly. When I entered the pulpit in Burnham chapel all fear was taken away, and my first text there was 1 Chron. 29:3.

“After this I had several calls to supply at Rayleigh, Billericay, Foulness Island, Witham, &c., and at times had sweet testimonies that my labour was not in vain in the Lord.”

The following particulars are furnished by his afflicted and sorrowing widow:

“My dear husband was not altogether a stranger to the readers of the ‘Gospel Standard.’ He contributed to its pages until the Lord was pleased to lay on him his afflicting hand with rheumatic fever, so that he could not feed himself for upwards of twelve months. His pains were most intense; this was in 1854 and 1855. From this he never fully recovered. I am a witness of the goodness of God to his afflicted servant. The faithfulness of God was manifested in a wonderful manner, in supporting him in this trying and painful affliction; for at times he sank very low, and thought the Lord was about to take down his tabernacle. The following scripture was powerfully blessed to him: ‘Thou shalt not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord.’ Also that other: ‘To abide in the flesh is more profitable for you.’ He often told the Lord if he raised him up again his first text should be: ‘Thou shalt not die,’ &c.

“The intense heat of the summer of 1868 greatly took effect upon him, and it was with great difficulty he could go to chapel, although a very short distance. His last sermon was in July, 1868. I think I shall never forget the time. The text was: ‘The horse is prepared against the battle, but safety is of the Lord.’ He spoke very sweetly on the latter clause, showing many places and spots the soul would try for refuge and safety, but the Lord would so purge his people and refine them, by terrible things in righteousness, that safety and refuge, might only be found in the Lord. He continued about twenty minutes, and sat down quite exhausted. I felt an impression that morning that his work was done. Kent’s hymn was given out at the close of the service: ‘The Lord’s the battle is.’ I assisted him home. He sat down, and said, ‘What a poor helpless creature I am; I think my work is done;’ tears running down his cheeks. I replied: ‘Thy staff and sandals too Thou shalt with joy lay by.’

“He sweetly smiled amidst his falling tears. During the week following he was taken very ill; from which time he gradually sank. He often said, ‘What a lot of sinful, helpless lumber I am! Lord, have mercy upon me, and leave me not!’ I took the ‘Gospel Standard’ for May, 1837, and read a few lines of a piece he penned:

“‘Forsake me not, most gracious God, 

While in this world I stay;

But O! support me by thy word,

And keep me day by day,’ &c.

He said, ‘I am come no farther yet; I want the same things now.’ When cast down, I would remind him how many times the Lord had appeared, and brought him through. ‘Yes,’ he would reply, ‘when under the bondage of the law so many years, when I lost a beloved wife and nine children, painful exercises in the church, with losses and crosses in business, world, &c., the dear Lord hath sustained and delivered me, saying he would make all his goodness pass before me; and his word has been fulfilled; and here I am surrounded with mercies. O that I could love him more, praise him more, honour him more!’

“He suffered much from his head. He feared he should lose his senses. The disease was softening of the brain. His memory respecting natural and temporal things was very much shaken; but in spiritual and divine things he was quite clear. He often begged of the Lord to keep him in his senses. He was also much afraid of sinning, of saying something wrong when his mind rambled. ‘I would rather die than sin against the Lord, or be left to say one word dishonourable against his dear and precious name.’

“April 13, 1869. He was dark and restless. He said, O! my bitter cup, my bitter cup! The enemy throws his temptations like fiery darts at me.’ I replied, ‘It is said of the dear Lord that being in an agony he prayed more earnestly.’ ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘and so I have had fellowship with him in his sufferings. I cried out, I want to bring forth more fruit, that I may honour the Lord more. I want a little of the wine of the kingdom.’ I said, ‘You have tasted it,’ ‘O yes,’ he replied, ‘I have had full draughts—’I’ve been indulged that stream to sip, That Zion’s city cheers.”‘

“On writing to a friend, I asked if he had any word to send. He said, ‘Tell my dear brother my days of darkness are many, and the road weary, yet the dear Lord comes at times and cheers and comforts me. I have sucked sweetness from that passage: ‘The servant of the Lord must not strive, but be gentle to all men, apt to teach, patient.’ Also these words: ‘Cast down, but not destroyed.’

“On one occasion he was much cast down; when I repeated a verse of one of Kent’s hymns:

“’But why should heaven’s indulgent care, 

Amidst the general woe,

A single saint a sinner spare, 

Whose heart was loth to go?’

“It touched a chord in his heart, and lit up his countenance with love. He called aloud, ‘O holy doctrine! My soul loves it!’

“May 13. Having received a letter from a friend, which I read to him, he exclaimed, ‘My dear, he is a real friend and true brother, and what a mercy the Lord has sustained that unity of spirit amid all the changing scenes of this poor life! Here I am, upon a bed of languishing, and at times sorely beset with temptations, darkness of mind, hidings of God’s face, which is the most painful of all; yet I am in hope of eternal life, which God, that cannot lie, promised before the world began; and because he hath put his fear in my heart, therefore does my soul pant after his holiness and righteousness, to be the breast- plate of my heart.’

“Having been deprived the pleasure for a considerable time of meeting with the friends in public worship, he had a great desire to do so once more, and break bread to them; but this favour was not granted him. The Lord was preparing him for the banquet above.

“On returning from chapel, I told him the Lord had been in our midst, blessing the reading of one of Mr. Philpot’s sermons. He melted into tears, and replied: ‘What hath God wrought! He hath indeed raised up faithful men for the comfort and edification of his dear people, and for the defence of truth in this awful day of declension.’

“June 13. On reading to my dear husband, I came to the words, ‘He loved me.’ He cried out, ‘He hath loved me, and saved such a rebel as I.’ He was quite overpowered, and could bear no more. He spoke of the matchless love of God a theme so dear to him. He would say: ‘He loved me, and gave himself for me.’

“June 19. I observed to him I thought the Lord was taking his tabernacle down. He replied, ‘I think I shall be spared to you a little longer; but I desire the will of the Lord to be done.’ A friend said to him, ‘You are not tired of the religion of Jesus Christ? You have often said love to a precious Christ and salvation by him, to comprehend and fully prove the depths of everlasting love is the most blessed state a soul can be in this side of eternity.’ He turned his eyes towards his friend, and said: ‘O Lord, have mercy upon me, a poor sinful worm. I want to abound in hope, in love, and every grace, by the power of the Holy Ghost.’ Viewing his poor prostrate body, I said, ‘May the Lord grant you as glorious an entrance into the heavenly Jerusalem as he did Mr. Peake, of Oakhain,’ whose letters and obituary we read many times, and found very precious to us both; also Mr. Bourne’s letters; we had often been refreshed thereby. He said, ‘Amen,’ and then repeated:

“’Jesus, lover of my soul,

Hangs my helpless soul on thee.”

‘Can I give thee up? No, no; never, never!’

“On Tuesday evening following he sank very low, and appeared to shrink at death, saying, ‘How shall I feel when I come to die? How shall I meet death? O Lord, come and enlarge my heart. I cannot rest without thee. Nothing can with a precious Christ compare. I want the refreshing streams of salvation.’ I replied, ‘A dear saint of God once declared, ‘I have waited for thy salvation, O Lord!’ He replied, ‘I can say likewise, Bless his precious name; nothing can fill up the vacancy of a precious Christ, when his sensible presence is withheld. O the lumber that is in my heart! How low I am sunk; but I thirst and pant for the presence of my precious Christ.’

“June 23. He was in prayer nearly all the day. He cried out, ‘Come, come, my dear Lord Jesus. Take my ransomed spirit to thy dear self. Let me to thy bosom fly.’ It was very solemn to be in the room with him. A friend called in to see him. He saw him smile, and remarked, ‘You give us a smile!’ ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I shall smile.’ He was too far gone to converse much.

“June 25. His dear children assembled to take their last farewell of their dying parent, who, through grace, had set them a blessed example and godly precept of the power of that religion of which God is the Author, proving to a demonstration that blessed Scripture: ‘Him that honoureth me, him will my Father honour.’

“He fell asleep in Jesus, without a struggle or a groan, in the night of June 25, 1869, aged 73, and was interred in the chapel-yard, Southminster, where his body rests in sure and certain hope of a glorious resurrection unto eternal life.”

He was a good man, through grace, and feared God above many: “The righteous shall be had in everlasting remembrance.”

J. Porster

Hastings, Sept. 14, 1869