The Life And Legacy Of William Nunn

Gospel Magazine 1840:

“The righteous shall be in everlasting remembrance.”—Psalm 112:6

The Rev. William Nunn, the beloved and regretted minister of St. Clement’s Church, Manchester, was born May 13th, 1786, at Colchester, in Essex. He came into this world of sin and misery a weak and tender infant; for the first two or three years of his life he was so much afflicted, that it was frequently thought he was dead or dying. Little did his friends then anticipate that so fragile a bodily frame contained the spirit of one who would afterwards become an untiring labourer in the Gospel field. But “God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty;” that according as it is written, “he that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord.” As Mr. N. advanced in years his constitution gained strength, and after he left school his natural energy of character began to show itself; yet he was preserved from pursuing the follies and vices incident to his age. For several years we find him actively employed in carrying on his father’s business, and at one time serving as an ensign in the local militia; and though new and varying temptations assailed him, he was still kept in the rectitude and sobriety of his conduct, as a singular in­ stance of the restraining power of the Lord’s providence.

In the meantime Mr. N.’s mind was occasionally impressed with serious convictions. These he recollected having felt in his early youth, while attending the ministry of the Rev. Robert Storry, who was accustomed to catechise young persons in a very affectionate and persuasive manner. These impressions, however, wore off, and Mr. N. remained in his natural state of alienation from God until the autumn of 1808. Having been perusing a book of travels, he resolved to visit the places mentioned by the author of the work, and forthwith commenced a journey on foot of about 800 miles; an undertaking which he accomplished within a limited time, walking generally about thirty miles a-day. This was a memorable period in his life; the time was now at hand when the Lord was about to reveal himself with power to his soul. “On that journey,” he observes in his journal, “it pleased God to bring me to a knowledge of my lost and undone condition by nature, and to a blessed manifestation of acceptance into his favour through the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

Having reached Shrewsbury, he tarried there several days with his eldest brother, Mr. John Nunn, who was then curate to the Rev. Thomas Stedman, vicar of St. Chad’s, in that town. During this visit to his brother, Mr. N. began to make inquiries on the subject of religion. He listened to the sermons he heard with a desire to understand, and found himself at a loss to know why his brother dwelt so much on the blood and righteousness of Christ. A conversation took place in which he disclosed the thoughts he had of himself; he was affected to tears by what was said, although the pride of the natural heart led him to feel displeased with himself for having wept, considering it a weakness.

In his subsequent reflections, alluding to this period, he observed, “I certainly knew at this time that there were, in the sight of God, but two sorts of characters, the righteous and the unrighteous; and I believed that the former had a special knowledge of their state. I knew I had not that knowledge; the want of it, rather than the weight of conscious guilt, made me unhappy.” And referring to the first manifestation of God’s love to his soul, he thus expressed his sense of the mercy:—“From that hour I became a new creature. Happy period! why was I ever blessed with the mercy then manifested! All may be traced to the everlasting union of my soul in Him, in whom I was chosen from before the foundation of the world to the possession of all spiritual blessings.”

Some months having elapsed, he began to feel a desire to become a minister of the Gospel. Serious difficulties of a worldly nature opposed his wishes; but having consulted his kind minister, Mr. Storry, and his eldest brother, who encouraged his design, he immediately commenced his studies, and entered himself at St. John’s College, Cambridge. He took the degree of B.A. [Mr. Nunn took the degree of M. A. at the same college, in 1817] in January, 1814, and the following March was ordained as curate to the Rev. Mr. Procter, of Newland, in Gloucestershire. This was the field on which he commenced his ministerial labours. His bold and energetic style of preaching drew large congregations to the church. The plain truths he uttered not only roused and alarmed his hearers, but in many happy instances proved the effectual means of adding to the church of Christ “such as should be saved.” After labouring with unabated success in this place for some time, he removed to another curacy; this step occasioned him much painful regret, for he had gained the affectionate esteem of many of the inhabitants, who loved him for the Gospel’s sake.

We now find Mr. Nunn engaged as curate to an aged clergyman of the name of Howlitt, at Coleshill, near Coventry. Here similar effects followed his faithful testimony to the truth; crowds attended his preaching, and it became needful to enlarge the church. The enemy, who delights in sowing tares among the wheat, raised a violent opposition against him. Several influential persons, urged by the enmity of their hearts against the doctrines of grace, prejudiced the mind of their aged vicar, and at length succeeded m persuading him to dismiss his curate. Mr. Nunn’s friends remonstrated, but in vain. They drew up a petition and presented it to Mr. Howlitt; it was signed by the churchwardens of the parish and 200 of the inhabitants, and set forth in simple but eloquent terms, the good which had already been effected by their young minister’s exertions. But every attempt to reconcile the vicar proved fruitless, and Mr. Nunn, after taking leave of a crowded and deeply affected congregation, gave up his charge over them, [A few days before Mr. N. left Coleshill, he was presented in a very kind manner with a donation of eighty pounds, subscribed by some of his hearers, as a testimony of their affectionate esteem, and of their deep regret at his removal] and was thus thrown by the providence of God into circumstances which led to his becoming at first curate to the Rev. E. Smyth, and eventually sole minister of St. Clement’s Church, at Manchester.

Mr. Nunn’s first message in St. Clement’s pulpit was delivered in the year 1817: from that period the change which took place in the style of preaching heard within those walls, was followed by as striking a change in the character of the congregations. Numbers of persons, attracted by his extraordinary talent in arresting the attention, continued to frequent the church, although they were strongly prejudiced against the truths he advanced; while others “received the word with all readiness of mind, and searched the Scriptures daily whether those things were so.” In this latter class of hearers, there were many who sought other means of instruction beside the public preaching of the word; Mr. N. therefore established private meetings for conversation and prayer, and formed into a select body such members of his congregation as gave satisfactory evidences of their being truly subjects of the grace of God. At these meetings happy tokens were often enjoyed of the Lord’s presence, many a burdened conscience was relieved, and many a fearful heart strengthened by clearer views of the eternal love of God in Christ; here many found sweet consolation for their earthly griefs, and many who “knew their election of God” were refreshed, and went on their way rejoicing. Thus this faithful servant of the Lord Jesus wrought diligently and unremittingly in his Master’s cause du­ ring a period of twenty-six years; nearly twenty-three of which were spent in his last pastoral charge, as minister of St. Clement’s.

As it has been most aptly expressed, his life and his labour concluded together. On Wednesday, March 4th of the present year (1840), he was as well as usual, and was cheerfully employed about his ordinary ministerial duties; preaching at night from the words, “Whereof the Holy Ghost also is a witness to us,” Heb. 10:15. The next morning he went into town on business, and while there was taken violently ill, and immediately returned home in a car. He was in excruciating pain. Medical aid was instantly procured; but not obtaining the desired relief, he was carried up to bed by two of his children. As they were carrying him up, he said to them, “Oh, what a mass of corruption you are carrying!” Late at night a consultation of three medical men was held, who agreed that there was no hope of relieving their patient or of preserving his life under his complaint (which was an internal rupture) but by means of a surgical operation. After a night of torturing pain, endured with great patience, the operation was resorted to; the fortitude bestowed during this trying period (a space of about half-an-hour) was equal to the extreme need. After the operation was accomplished he had comparative ease; but sank, however, more and more under the exhaustion. His mind was much supported during the few remaining days; and though he spoke but little, it was evident he was stayed upon his God. During the whole of Friday night and Saturday night, his sufferings were so severe and incessant that little escaped his lips beyond expressions of pain; but not once was he heard to murmur. At one time the words “need of patience;” at another time, “I need perseverance at another, “I need faith and patience at this time;” marked the state of his mind. Whenever anything temporal was brought before him, he waived the subject, and seemed to entertain hopes of recovery. But on the Sunday morning, when asked if he had anything particular to communicate, he replied, “There are some things I wished to speak about were it not the Sabbath.” He was then asked whether he would have a portion of Scripture read to him; he replied, “I have plenty of passages applied to my mind.” But from being able to converse so little, they were only short replies that he gave. On that morning it was evident that a great change had taken place; all who were about him saw that the hand of death was upon him. But during the day he seemed to rally; the pain had abated, but his voice failed, and he never spoke again above a whisper. He appeared, how­ ever, cheerful and content; and it being said to him, “There is but a step between you and death,” he at first answered, “Oh! I shall recover yet but afterwards added,“but whichever way it turns, I am resigned, either for life or death.” On Sunday night he was asked whether he wished to see any one in particular; his answer was, “from the first my only feeling has been to be ruled. I would have no wish but the will of God in all things; I can trace his hand in all his dealings.” During the whole of Sunday night he was gradually sinking; he slept constantly for about a quarter of an hour at a time, then being awakened by bodily discomfort, he took what, medicine there was to be administered, and each time said, “There, now leave me; I shall sleep,” and in a moment he was gone again. This was repeated all night, and often on awaking he would say pleasantly, “Now for the usual process —give me my sumptuous supper;” meaning a tea-spoonful of barley water, &c. Once he said, “If this medicine relieves me all will be right, if not, I may yet go;” it being observed in reply, “All will be right either way,” he said, “Oh yes! all is right.” About seven o’clock on Monday evening he changed so rapidly, that it was apprehended he had but a very short time to survive; but he again rallied a little, and seemed much in secret communion with God. When he spoke, it was in broken and scarcely audible sentences; once he was heard to say, “Sweet mercy! sweetest mercy!” with peculiar emphasis: and it being said, “You mean the mercy of God,” be rejoined, “I know no other mercy.” Being asked if he felt the presence and preciousness of Christ now he was approaching the dark valley, his reply was indistinct, and rather implied a feeling of darkness; but he immediately added, “How can he be anything but precious?” Seeming very restless and wanting change, he was asked if he would like prayer or a few verses, he answered, “I’ll tell you by and by;” and then added, “but I do not need consolation;” and when it was said, “Your consolations much more abound,” he looked full of comfort and said, “Oh yes!” As he seemed uneasy, he was asked if he felt happy; he replied, “Delightfully!” Is your soul at ease? “Gloriously!” “Then you need nothing we can do or say?” “No, nothing but to leave me to myself.”

About ten o’clock that morning the medical men came, and confirmed the fears of those who watched around him, that every hope of recovery must be abandoned; and on being told that a few moments might exchange time for eternity, he manifestly gave himself up in unreserved submission to his Heavenly Father’s will. He seemed desirous to attend to some matters connected with his church (showing how near his heart it lay), but he sank in the attempt; and from that moment appeared to be dying. One, who was bathing his forehead, said, “Is it pleasant to you?” He replied in a firm connected sentence, “I do not like the application of Scripture language to it; but if I may be allowed the expression, I should say I am already in a glorified body; it is so sweet, so delightful!” He seemed lost to every earthly care, and never spoke again except to give a tranquil assent to one or two remarks on the approaching change; but fully to express his soul-enjoyment in a manner which words would utterly fail to convey, was reserved for the closing scene. While his weeping family surrounded the bed in sorrowing suspense, waiting for the parting breath, and some time after his eyes had been completely glazed (all consciousness apparently being gone), they were opened with the suddenness and brilliancy of a flash of lightning—clear, full, blue, and more than earthly, they seemed to penetrate beyond the clouds and darkness of mortality to the very throne of God; and thus they remained fixed in ineffable communion as it were with the spiritual world for about a quarter of an hour, as though the soul were even before its final separation from the body, tasting of the fulness of joy at God’s right hand, and longing for the moment to wing its flight from the way-worn tenement. Not a pang, not a struggle, interrupted its departure; body, soul, and spirit, testified that death had lost its sting. The bereaved wife repeated a stanza expressive of adoring participation in the happiness of her dying husband; the weeping children exclaimed, “Oh, who can grieve? look how happy he is!” Every heart, every face, disclosed feelings which cannot be described, and will never be forgotten. At a quarter past eleven, after a slight movement and smile, that seemed to say to attend­ ant angels “I am coming!” the happy spirit was released. The eyes were never closed, but seemed gradually to recede from the glorious vision they had beheld.

Thus, leaning on eternal love, departed this eminent servant of Christ, in the fifty-fourth year of his age. A mourning widow and eight children were left to deplore their loss; while the congregation to whom he had for Christ’s sake so long and so happily devoted his singular talents and energies, in an instant found themselves bereft of their beloved minister.

As a preacher, Mr. N. possessed powers of an extraordinary kind. He stood nearly alone in his advocacy of the doctrines of grace, and in the style and spirit in which he delivered his message to the church.

As to his views, we may observe it was a source of singular gratification to his mind, on becoming acquainted with the late Dr. Hawker, to find that his own sentiments accorded with those of that venerable and highly-gifted minister. In that holy man Mr. Nunn met with a kindred spirit, whose friendship and advice he very highly valued, and whose letters, written to him with the affection of an aged brother, greatly strengthened him in the testimony he was enabled to bear to the “Gospel of the grace of God.”

Mr. N.’s manner in the pulpit was original and striking; he spoke as a messenger who thoroughly understood his errand, who knew and had experienced the truth he uttered, who disdained to conciliate his auditory by softening down or withholding the “hard sayings” of the Gospel. The sermons he delivered on public occasions would, however, be a very incomplete specimen of his style; as his aim ever was when standing up before those who were strangers to his ministry, to bring before them those views of divine truth and points of doctrine less generally appreciated and promulgated, while to those who were privileged to attend his own church, his sermons presented a rich illustration of doctrine, practice, and experience, calculated to encourage, feed, and establish, according to the diversified wants of a large congregation.

The prominent features in his preaching were the sovereignty of Jehovah in all its bearings, and the workings and experience of the human heart in its various operations; the everlasting purpose of God in the election of a people before time in the counsels of eternity, to be made manifest in time by their conversion and acceptance in Christ through the power of the Holy Ghost; and lastly, the consoling and upholding promises of God to his chosen people, building them up in their most holy faith. On these themes he delighted to dwell, and in doing so possessed a singular gift; and we marvel not that they should have been so very near his heart, when we consider that in the Lord’s mysterious dealings he called him to severe inward conflicts, under which these covenant engagements of everlasting love were the stay of his troubled soul.

He is gone to his rest, leaving behind him a deep impression of the truth, and many seals to his ministry, who are left to mourn the loss of their departed minister.