The Life And Ministry Of William Jackson

Earth Vessel 1891:

On May 30th, fell asleep, at the age of 72 years, William Jackson, for twenty years the indefatigable secretary of the Aged Pilgrims’ Asylum, Hornsey Rise, and for nearly twenty previous years of the Camberwell Asylum, also more recently of those at Brighton and Stamford Hill. In William Jackson very many have lost a true friend, but not one an enemy. It might be thought singular by some that his interest and constant care were chiefly devoted to (I will not say divided by) those extremes of life—youth and old age—but in this was no incongruity. Both claim, for both need the peculiar gentleness and kind, sympathising spirit so abundantly seen in our friend. Awakened to Divine realities early in life, he was baptized and united with the Church in Devonshire-square, Bishopsgate, at the age of 17 (May 1st, 1836). Just ten years later he removed into South London, married a gracious lady, and joined the Church at Camberwell under the pastorate of Dr. Steane. Here he soon engaged in Sunday-school teaching, in which work he was all his after life deeply interested, and was on the Council of the Sunday-school Union at the time of his death. The writer’s first acquaintance with him was indeed at that time on the committee of the Lambeth and Camberwell Auxiliary Sunday-school Union. The acquaintance ripened into friendship, which continued unbroken until his “calling home.” Terse, compact, explicit, and warm- hearted was all his correspondence; cheerful, yet devout and profitable, his converse. Painstaking industry, considerate firmness, hopeful zeal, characterised his course.

In the year 1852 he joined us on the committee of the Aged Pilgrims’ Friend Society, and the next year became assistant-secretary with Mr. John Box (the venerable Mr. James Bissett, senior secretary, and one of the founders, having become very infirm), and from that day until his departure, with growing activity and deepening affection, he cared for the aged poor, specially (but not exclusively) “those of the household of faith.” In the same year he also became secretary of the Camberwell Asylum, and when, in 1856, at the inauguration of the society’s jubilee, the erection of a larger asylum began to be prepared for, no one but friend Jackson was thought of as its scribe and “managing man.” At length, in June, 1870, the foundation was laid. Next year the building was opened, and for twenty years he won the aged hearts of the inmates, and ever elicited the confidence of the committee by his wise, exact, and careful management. His was a quiet, unambitious life; there are, therefore, few striking incidents to record. He was looked up to as an honourable deacon in Churches at Albany-road, at Holloway, and in that at Crouch-end, of which the late Henry Dowson was pastor. Him our brother greatly esteemed, and while shrinking from controversy, I can bear witness that he continually grew in love for the doctrines of grace, being filled with their spirit, and delighted in the practical proof of their value.

Many years ago he was drawn into preaching; indeed, at that time it was supposed his thoughts ran in the direction of pastoral work, and many demands were made on him; while he writes in his diary, “My only force as to public service just now is a rushing into the week- night meeting at the Grove (Camberwell).” In 1853 he took week-evening services in the absence of Dr. Steane, and a few years later at Cottage-green, while without a pastor, and both received cordial recognition. His comments are such as these: “Lord, keep Thy servant humble; let him not glory in the flesh: gifts are Thine, Thine only!” This, however, dropped away as he became more absorbed in school and pilgrim duties, but the feeling and profitable way in which he often conducted the services in asylum chapels will long be remembered. His diary was conscientiously though concisely kept for many years, and in it two features are remarkable: his lovely, child-like daily walk with God, and his resemblance to the spirit of Nehemiah—“So I prayed to the God of heaven.” There is evidence of a deep desire to be kept humble; he seemed to dread success, fearing it would foster pride, self-sufficiency, or complacency.

Although never laid by with long or serious illness, yet he has known much physical weakness, and the vast amount of work he got through was surely done in the strength of Him in whom he trusted: more than once he records: “Happy day, dear friends and helpers, full of Christian love;” or “Sleet and snow, got wet through, but happy meeting, was helped and sustained throughout by a gracious Lord.” ”Not well, but mercifully helped to go to asylum, praise the Lord.” He was much favoured not only in Christian fellowship among fellow workers, but always valued most highly the correspondence received. He had a sweet gift in letter writing, which often brought him choice epistles from men of good report. With intensest delight he would read and re-read; these were means of grace and refreshing to his spirit, and he often exclaimed, “What a privilege!” One who knew him most intimately says: “When I think of that pen of his, often used on behalf of the poor, dear aged ones. They used to go to his room at the asylum, telling of straitness and need, then with his own peculiar grace and sense of justice he would write the son or daughter who had withheld the help, while possessing the means. This same pen brought in silver and gold from many who felt the power of his pleading. I have omitted to relate that he was left a widower within a year of his marriage; “walked alone” some six years, and was then united to her who has been his loving help-meet ever since, and is now left a widow.

He may be truly said to have worked up to the last; the Master found him in the midst of his loved employ, and he evidently did not expect so speedy a call. It had been marked, however, that during the last few months the Lord had been dealing with peculiar tendernes with His spirit. In public utterance, family worship, converse with fellow believers and correspondence, he reverted to the wondrous grace of God in his own personal salvation; more than once he quoted with much feeling Titus 3:5—”Not by works of righteousness,” &c. Mercy he delighted in. “I die daily” truly describes this last stage of his pilgrimage. Comrades had dropped at his side, many of whom seemed essential for the work he loved best, but he often learnt not to put trust in man. Discouragements and disappointments he knew, but God deserted he never was. With a firm faith in times of trial, a courage inspired by reliance on the Word, he exhibited great confidence and peace when all around disturbed.

He had just been to the Brighton Asylum for a few days, took a chill there that cold Whit-week, but wrote in a cheerful note on May 23rd (addressed “My dear old comrade and fellow pilgrim”) inviting me to come to some asylum services; referred to several deaths, then took the evening prayer meeting at Hornsey.

His daughter writes:—

“When going to Brighton in May he urged me with my mother to go also, saying, “Let us all meet this time, for we know not what may prevent a family gathering again.” Of late months he had talked in this strain at family worship, and indeed in public utterance it was as if the Lord was drawing His servant to live on the threshold of heaven. So we went. He enjoyed the Sunday services much, and during the evening we felt there was something peculiarly glad and yet solemn about his conversation; then we gathered round the organ to sing some old favourite hymns. He chose, “Let me be with Thee where Thou art,” and then read with great tenderness John 14, ending, “Arise, let us go hence.” Then in prayer he poured out his very soul on behalf of his family, the ministry of the Word, the Church at large, the pilgrims, &c. Returning home, he conducted the Saturday evening prayer-meeting at the Asylum. There was singular power and sweetness in his address, founded on 2 Peter 2, and commented on each verse of the closing hymn, “Come, let us join our friends above.”

On Sunday he was too weak and ill to rise for more than two hours, but on Monday (which day he always spent at the asylum) he rose at noon and slowly walked there. On arriving he entered the matron’s room, sank into the first chair, and fell asleep. The doctor was alarmed, and had him home to bed. His voice was very feeble, not more indeed than a whisper; he said little, but we needed no dying testimony to his faith in Christ; his dear face brightened as I quoted many sweet passages. One was, “Where I am there shall My servant be.” He responded, “Yes, my beloved Lord, I know whom.”

Fever and delirium came on; in the latter he was busy at “pilgrim work;” no distressing feeling, and on Saturday, at three o’clock, he fell asleep very sweetly in Jesus.”

And so the end was most fittingly peaceful, and seems to say to us: “Be ye therefore followers of God as dear children, and walk in love as Christ also hath loved us” (Eph. 5:1).

On Saturday, June 6th, we bore his mortal remains to the tomb in Abney Park Cemetery, previously holding a service at Hornsey Asylum, which, by the family’s request, I conducted, assisted by Brethren Philip Reynolds, Pullen, Sinden, Wood, and Vaughan. It was affecting to see the large group of mourning aged inmates who joined with the numerous other friends and fellow-labourers—one in their sorrow; yet coming to praise God who had kept His servant faithful, and made him long useful and much beloved. 

S. K. Bland

Ipswich.

The pilgrim’s friend has crossed the flood, 

His soul is now at rest;

Washed in the Lamb’s atoning blood, 

He is for ever blest.

His work on earth for pilgrims’ need 

Was daily his delight,

And what he found to do for them, 

He did it with his might.

His work was done, his Master called 

Him home to dwell above,

To join the ransomed round the throne, 

And sing redeeming love.

An Aged Pilgrim (Inmate)