The Life And Ministry Of W. H. Rose

Earthen Vessel 1900:

In complying with the request of the Editor for a sketch of my career, I would be guided by the judicious remark of John Foster, in his Essay entitled, “On a Man’s Writing Memoirs of Himself:” “The materials of any value that all past life can supply to a recording pen would be reduced by a discerning selection to a very small and modest amount.”

I was born at Lampton, Hounslow. My earliest recollections of a religious character cluster around the little sanctuary, “Zoar,” in Staines-road. It was there that thanks were given for my first, and prayers were offered for my second birth. Mrs. Brown taught me to spell out “God is Love,” with block letters in a frame. Mr. Jeffs, as Superintendent, discovered in me more of the prickliness of the thorn than the fragrance of the rose, and there it was that my cousin Thomas,—“tried each art, reported each dull daily, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.”

My first clear apprehension of the peril of sin, and the need of salvation through the Saviour’s death was received, at seven years of age, through an address to children in the Hounslow Independent Schoolroom. I can distinctly recall the breathless attention with which I listened. The emotions thus excited were soon after intensified by the reading of “Pilgrim’s Progress.” How I longed to see “yonder shining light,” and to reach “yonder wicket gate.” About this time an address was given at “Zoar” on “Eternity.” The word kept ringing in my ears, and filled me with such concern and awe, that, henceforward, I found it impossible to do wrong without suffering remorse and alarm. Between the ninth and twelfth years of my boyhood I passed through some very distressing experiences, incident to business reverses and domestic sorrows. The death of two of my little sisters within a fortnight produced fresh exercises of mind as to my own state before God. How often have I, mentally at least, put “tried and proved” against Lam. 3:27, “It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth.” My father and mother would sometimes cheer me up under my disappointed hopes of continued and improved education with the assurance that God would make the crooked straight some day. I rejoice in the Divine favour by which they have been spared to see their assurance justified. Those years spent at Isleworth, I can now see, put elements into my character which have since subserved important ends in my ministry.

Removing to Richmond, I became a scholar at “Salem.” I cherish grateful memories of the painstaking labours of my teacher, Mr. Robinson, senr., and also of the intelligent questionings of my fellow-scholar, Joseph Franklin. The quiet, consistent conduct of the latter often put me to the blush and made me wish to be like him. Many times since has God used an exemplary character as a monitor and stimulus to me. A week before my thirteenth birthday our home was transferred to Hammersmith. Here, in my bedroom, on the 31st Dec. 1876, I was again the subject of spiritual terrors. As I lay awaiting the ringing out of the old year, this passage solemnly arrested me: “Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee.” In an agony of fear lest these words should be literally verified, I left my bed, and on bended knees cried, as I had never done before, “God be merciful to me, a sinner.” Rising, I walked to the window, resolving that if the mid-night hour should bring my summons to another world, I would meet it praying for mercy. It is impossible for me to describe my sensations as a neighbouring clock began to strike the hour of twelve: it seemed as if the twelfth stroke would never come. When twelve o’clock struck at last, an intolerable load was lifted from my mind, and thanking God for sparing my unworthy life, I vowed to reform my conduct in the future. In endeavouring to discharge this vow I frequently sought help from a directory for self-examination in Fleming’s work on the Papacy. My budding pharisaism was destined to receive a withering blast. Through my novel-reading and theatre-going associates in the office where I was employed inflicting all sorts of physical and mental torture on me for my “religiousness,” I took to the Bye-path meadow of Compromise, with its ultimate Doubting Castle and Giant Despair. My mother, anxious that I should have correct doctrinal views, gave me a book to read entitled, “The Light of Truth.” It was the means of shewing me the difference between free-will and free-grace. I became a zealous Calvinist—on the lines of the book—and soon engaged in controversy with my friends at the Wesleyan Chapel where I attended. My vanity as a controversialist, fostered by the injudicious commendations of some Strict Baptist friends, became a fearful snare, and eventually I was fast bound in the toils of fatalism. Some unguarded expressions from certain pulpits lent countenance to the idea that an utter abhorrence of Arminianism was a comfortable evidence of spiritual life: an idea completely shattered afterwards by such works as Doddridge’s  “Rise and Progress of Religion in the soul,” Mead’s “Almost Christian Discovered,” and Philpot’s sermons, specially “The Heir of Heaven Walking in Darkness and the Heir of Hell Walking in Light.”

In the autumn of 1878, I left my home for Islington, to be nearer the Central Telegraph Office, where I was engaged as clerk. At “Salem,” Wilton Square, I was treated with fatherly kindness by the late Mr. Flack. It was by his encouragement I first prayed in public and undertook a class in the Sunday School. My experiences at this period were very varied, alternating between hope and despair. Now I was cheered by a glimpse of God’s grace towards sinners and anon I was plunged into darkness by fresh discoveries of the spirituality of God’s law and the enmity of my carnal nature thereunto.

Having removed, in the summer of 1879, to Haverstock Hill, it was my privilege to attend the ministry of Mr. W. H. Evans, then pastor of Avenue Chapel, Camden Town. A sermon he preached on backsliding came with searching power to my conscience. I became very miserable; God’s hand was heavy upon me, and my moisture was turned into the drought of summer. Warnings I had despised; privileges I had abused; convictions I had stifled; Scriptures I had shirked—all seemed to be going forward to witness against me at the judgment bar of God. How dependent upon the sovereign grace of God I felt; and yet it seemed impossible for that grace to reach my case. My health breaking down, my relatives at Sleaford gave me a warm welcome to their home for the winter. Here I made the acquaintance of their esteemed Pastor, Mr. E. Carr, now of Bath. His discriminating discourses, and especially his prayers, were made very useful to me. I count his faithful friendship one of God’s choice gifts to me. I recollect, while at Sleaford, after a severe conflict with Satanic temptations, one morning I came downstairs, and shutting myself in the sitting-room, I begged the Lord to give me some word to encourage me to hope in His mercy. Opening a Bible my eyes lighted upon the last verse of the 40th Psalm, the words: “But I am poor and needy: yet the Lord thinketh upon me,” comforted me not a little.

I returned to London, Jan. 1880, and soon obtained a clerkship in the Post Office at Braintree, Essex. I think it was on the second Lord’s-day I attended “Salem,” Albert-road, I heard a Mr. H——, an itinerant brother from Castle Hedingham. His text was Psa. 146:7, “The Lord looseth the prisoners.” It was really wonderful to me how the good man was led to trace out my intricate experiences. When he came to describe the loosing of the prisoners I was overjoyed to find the fetters falling off one by one until I realised the liberty wherewith the Son of God maketh free. I felt that morning a measure of the joy that throbs in the verse—

“He breaks the power of cancelled sin,

He sets the prisoner free;

His blood can make the villest clean,

His blood availed for me.”

I went home rejoicing, and told the friend with whom I lived that a man like the Apostle Paul had preached that morning. The sermon in the afternoon, from Zeph. 3:12, “I will leave in the midst of thee an afflicted and poor people, and they shall trust in the name of the Lord,” was with sealing power.

The friend just referred to was a local preacher. One Lord’s-day afternoon he was suddenly called upon to supply the Primitive Methodist pulpit in the evening. He begged me to accompany him, and take the opening exercises. At first I objected, but after prayer for guidance and help I went. About a week or so afterwards my friend Elliston astonished me by telling me I was appointed to preach on Lord’s-day, April 25th, at Stebbing Primitive Methodist Chapel. The superintendent of the Circuit could not find a Supply anywhere for that day, and Mr. Elliston, feeling persuaded the Lord had designed me for the ministry, ventured to propose my name. I was for cancelling the engagement at once; but my friend entreated me to give the matter calm consideration. I remembered that I had promised the Lord that if He delivered my soul from bondage I would publish His goodness whenever and wherever I had opportunity. Was not this such an opportunity? At last I consented to go. I had many fears, and put up many prayers on my way to Stebbing. Arrived at the chapel I had to combine the duties of pew opener, precentor and preacher! I realized a peculiar joy as I attempted to extol the Saviour from the words: “Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and to-day, and forever.”

The friends at the Strict Baptist Chapel hearing of my preaching at Stebbing, and knowing that my principles were identical with their own, requested that I would occupy their pulpit occasionally. As I had no idea of preaching regularly, and had not been baptized, I begged them not to press their invitation. One Saturday evening the Deacon, Mr. Wheeler, informed me that he had received a letter from the Supply for the next day saying, that owing to a heavy domestic trial he was unable to keep his engagement. I suggested a prayer-meeting. “No.” replied my friend, “You must speak to us in the Lord’s name, as He shall help you.” In much fear and trembling I tried to speak in the morning from Isa. 63:1. I felt hampered, and went home quite crestfallen, thinking I had offended both the Lord and His people. However, the trouble only made me pray the more earnestly, and in the afternoon and evening services I felt so much more liberty that at the close of the day I could but thank God, and take courage.

After prayerful deliberation I offered myself as a candidate for baptism and fellowship. I was baptized on Lord’s-day morning, July 4th, 1880, at “Hope,” Great Yeldham, by the pastor, Mr. Isaiah Smith. After my immersion the good man put his hand on my shoulder, and exclaimed: “Now you’re a Baptist preacher!” I read Psa. 103 at the afternoon service as an expression of my grateful love.

From February, 1881 to April, 1882, I regularly preached on Lord’s days at “Salem,” paying occasional visits to Witham and Sible Hedingham. At the latter place Mr. J. W. Wren (now of Bedford) laboured for some time with signs following. Some of the aged saints there delighted to repeat his quaint and shrewd sayings. One addressed to myself in a friend’s house at Billinghay is still fresh and helpful: “My friend, you will never get anything in God’s market while you bring a penny in your hand.”

Through the recommendation of my friend, Mr. E. Carr, I relinquished my situation to give myself to the ministry of the Word. I received an invitation to preach at Swineshead, near Boston, on April 30th, 1882. I preached statedly here, without taking the pastorate, until the end of 1883. Then I accepted a probationary call from the Church at “Ebenezer,” Cottenham. My fifteen months’ residence there marks an important era in my life. An outbreak of virulent typhoid brought me daily into close contact with sickness and death. I seemed to suddenly grow old, so saddening were the scenes I witnessed. I did not feel at liberty to accept a Pastorate, and left in April, 1885, taking with me substantial proof of affectionate regard.

On October 11th, 1885, I commenced to supply at “Providence,” Reading. After six months’ probation, commencing June 6th, 1886, I entered upon the work of the pastorate, in which, by the grace of God, and the patience of the Church, I continued until July 4th, 1897. As my friend, Mr. Martin, with good-natured candour, remarked at the farewell service: “If sometimes the Church had tried the pastor, the pastor had sometimes tried the Church.” Very generous were the expressions of love bestowed by the “Providence” friends upon me and mine. May the Lord richly bless the ministry of my esteemed successor, Mr. J. Copeland.

At Reading God graciously gave me, in Miss Jessie Welman, a true yoke-fellow, “a  counterpart” (Young’s Ver. Gen. 2:18). He has filled our cup of domestic happiness to the brim with the love of two little ones—our Gracie and Frank.

In April, 1898, I commenced my pastoral work at “Carmel,” Woolwich. At the recognition services my valued friend, Mr. T. Daynes Wood, observed that this event was the confirmation of a strong impression he received outside “Providence” before a word or a line had passed between us. The past two years have been fraught with manifold mercies. I would thankfully, and trustfully translate “Hitherto” into “Henceforth.”

This short retrospect constrains me in conclusion to adopt the following lines as a confession and a tribute:—

“In Him is only good,

In my is only ill;

My ill but draws

His goodness forth,

And me He liveth still.”

May those to whom I have ministered in the past, and those among whom I now serve, unite with me in eternal praise of God’s grace in the City—of which Augustine beautifully says, “Where no foe enters, and whence no friend departs.”