The Religious Life of London

Nor do I know that they could have a better model. Mr. Calthrop is not the Church of England Spurgeon. I am not aware that the Church of England has a Spurgeon. I know none of the other Christian churches of our day that have. It is only once in an age that a Mr. Spurgeon appears, but Mr. Calthrop has no need to fear comparison with Mr. Spurgeon or any one else. Personally, he is much smaller than the far-famed Baptist orator Mr. Spurgeon, and in figure and face very much resembles the late Douglas Jerrold. His voice is one of wonderful sweetness and power, and as he reads the Liturgy of his Church you feel that with him it is no empty form, to be repeated parrot-like and with railway speed, but the voice of a people humbled on account of sin, and standing trusting, yet trembling, in the presence of their God. Exquisitely can he render all its pathos, all its tenderness, all its sorrow, all its fulness of exultation, all its ecstasy of Christian hope. From the reading-desk to the pulpit the transition is easy and natural. At a distance there is something youthful in his look; but in his grey hair, in his face lined with thought, in his eye, which seems ever looking far off, as if here was not the boundary of his horizon, as if it had realized something of the glory which is to come; you see that already golden youth has past, and that you have before you one who has attained to the strength and steadiness, and ripeness and experience, of Christian manhood. He will not detain you long, nor will he weary you with learning, nor will he aim to dazzle the intellect and neglect the heart. In language of poetical simplicity will he unfold and illustrate his text, and force home on the hearts and consciences of all, its lessons. There is nothing of the pretension of the priest about him, nor does he delight in the terrors of the law. Evidently he is the servant of one whose yoke is easy, and whose burden is light; and such is his freshness and originality, and such is his careful preparation for the pulpit, and such the naturalness of his delivery, that the more you hear him the more you like him. Much of his ministerial work is done at his own house, amongst the young people whom he collects there in his Bible-classes, which are largely attended. For this work he seems eminently fitted by a refinement of manner, not so much, I should fancy, the result of training, as of the natural instinct of a kindly heart. The North of London is favoured as regards clergymen, and Mr. Calthrop is a favourable specimen of his class. There are none around him more eloquent, more laborious, more successful. A recent American writer points to the chaplainships founded and supported in all the places of fashionable resort on the Continent as a proof of the amazing energy, and wealth, and power of the English Church. I would rather point to such churches as St. Augustine’s, where a pastor is maintained in affluence, and a church crowded, and real good accomplished, without one farthing but what is raised by the free-will offerings of the people.

Outside his own immediate circle Mr. Calthrop has laboured with much effect. As a platform speaker he is very effective. As an out-of-door preacher he at one time greatly distinguished himself. He was also one of the first to take his share in the work of preaching in theatres; and one of the best accounts of one – a service at the Britannia, which was reprinted in almost all the religious journals at the time – was from his pen. A little while ago he had the honour of preaching in Westminster Abbey. He was before that one of the preachers in the special services at St. Paul’s. Perhaps the greatest compliment in this respect paid him was the appointing him University preacher at his own university – that of Cambridge – a few years since. To have occupied that pulpit is a memorable event in any clergyman’s life.

Little more need be said. Mr. Calthrop was born in London, and educated at Trinity College, Cambridge. He at one time had thoughts of studying for the law, but ultimately the pulpit became the object of his choice. As a curate he originally laboured at Reading; he moved thence to Brighton, where he was curate to the late Rev. Mr. Elliott, author of a work still known in theological circles – the “Horæ Apocalypticæ.” Six years of his ministerial life were spent at Cheltenham, and thence he removed with his wife and family to what was then a new and untried sphere of labour. The wealth and material prosperity around him seem not to have impaired his devotedness. Very possibly they have opened to him fresh fields of usefulness; for if ever plain preaching was required for rich men, it is in the day in which we live. It is to the credit of Mr. Calthrop that he realizes this fact, and sees in the Gospel he proclaims a message for the richest of the rich as well as for the poorest of the poor.

A book might be written about Church Life. I can only say Dr. Temple tells us, that such commands as those in Leviticus as to tattooing, disfiguring the person, or wearing a blue fringe, should be sanctioned by divine authority, is utterly irreconcileable with our present feelings. The Bible is before all things the written voice of the congregation, writes Dr. Rowland Williams. The Pentateuch was not written by Moses. The Psalms do not bear witness to the Messiah. The prophecies are histories. Justification means peace of mind, or sense of the Divine approval. Regeneration is an awakening of the forces of the soul. Reason is the fulfilment of the love of God. The kingdom of God is the revelation of Divine Will in our thoughts and lives. The incarnation is purely spiritual. In London pulpits the preacher best known and most identified with Broad Church theology is Professor Jowett, whose great theme is that eternal punishment is inconsistent with all that we can conceive of the requirements of justice or the character of God. Dean Stanley says no clergyman believes the Athanasian Creed, and treats many parts of the Bible as mythical. Of Father Ignatius and his eccentricities it is needless to speak.

The following statistics will interest many: – “There is a weekly celebration of the Holy Communion at 169 churches, more than one-fourth; daily celebration at 20, nearly one-thirtieth; early morning celebration at 159, one-fourth; evening celebration at 97, nearly one-sixth; afternoon celebration at 5; choral celebration at 63, one-tenth; saints’-day services at 198, nearly one-third; daily service at 132, more than one-fifth; no weekday service at 104, one-sixth; full choral service at 128, more than one-fifth; and partly choral service at 115, nearly one-fifth; giving a proportion of nearly half where the psalms are chanted; surpliced choirs at 137, more than one-fifth; paid choirs at 88, nearly one-seventh; voluntary choirs at 231, more than one-third. Gregorian tones are used exclusively for chanting at 46, one-fourteenth. The weekly offertory is the rule at 128, nearly one-fifth. There are free but appropriated seats at 141, nearly one-fourth; free and open seats at 65, more than one-tenth. The Eucharistic vestments are worn at 20, being one church in every 31; incense is used at 7, one-nineteenth; the surplice is worn in the pulpit at 83, more than one-eighth; and 26 churches are open daily for private prayer.”

Dr. Sherlock, afterwards Bishop of Bangor, in his “Test Act Vindicated,” published in the year 1718, tells us that in the year 1676, upon a calculation that was made, the Nonconformists of all sorts, including Papists as well as others, were found to be in proportion to the members of the Church of England as one to twenty. That this is not the case now shows how the Church of England has misused her opportunities, or else that her claims have been rejected by the nation at large.

CHAPTER VII.

among the presbyterians

At Colebrook Row

Innovations are the order of the day. New times and altered circumstances require them. In Christian work they are imperatively required. While the Church has folded its arms and slept, while people have been lulled to ease and carelessness by the respectability of Church life and the wealth of professors, while pastors and ecclesiastical authorities have found satisfaction in the observance of ancient order and in the routine of established work, all at once there comes to them a cry that the heathen are outside of them, blaspheming the name they love, ignorant of the Gospel tidings, perishing in their sin and crime and misery at their very doors. John Wesley wrote how, in the latter end of the year 1739, eight or ten persons came to him in London, who appeared to be deeply convinced of sin, and earnestly groaning for redemption. They desired that he would spend some time with them in prayer, and advise them how to flee from the wrath to come. In our time the curtain has been lifted up, and the devout and earnest Christianity of the day has stood face to face with the unbelief which, by ignoring the existence of a heavenly Father, and robbing humanity of its loftiest hopes and deepest consolations, left the masses in our crowded cities to live and die like brutes. The revelation has raised up in many quarters a feeling that something more has to be done than has yet been done, that the Church, to discharge its mission aright, needs a more earnest consecration of the heart, a less formal modus operandi, a freer utterance, a less stiff and starch and time-worn manifestation of Christian life.

In accordance with this feeling, one Sunday evening there was a novel service in the Presbyterian church, Colebrook Row, of which the Rev. J. Thain Davidson is pastor. The night itself was one of the most unfortunate that could have been selected for that or for any other experiment. London people have a great, and, let me add, a natural objection to wet weather. If it rains hard it offers them a good excuse for stopping at home. They do not like to spoil their Sunday clothes, and they have a great aversion to bronchial affections. In this respect the Scotchman contrasts favourably with the Englishman. In such places as Edinburgh or Glasgow the churches are as well attended in bad weather as in fine. If it were so in London how many a pastor’s heart would rejoice! At Colebrook Row they are Presbyterians, and in England we naturally presume Presbyterians to be Scotchmen – at any rate, this must be the case as regards the attendance at Colebrook Row. On Sunday evening the place was crammed. I did not see a seat anywhere to spare, nor did I see a hearer who did not seem to take the deepest interest in what was going on.

Well, and what was going on? – a thing I should think never seen in a Presbyterian place of worship before. It appears that the services in the Agricultural Hall just by have led to an increased demand for religious agency in that district. Hundreds who attend no place of worship have now been induced to do so. Hundreds who were careless about religion have now become concerned. Hundreds who a short while ago would have refused the gift of a tract, and would have shut their doors in the face of a Christian visitor, are now ready to receive the one and to listen to the viva voce instruction of the other. Naturally, the appeal is made to Mr. Davidson, but his own duties in connexion with his church and congregation leave him no time to spare. A fund raised partly by Mr. Davidson’s own people, and partly by the liberality of a private individual, has enabled the London City Mission to send an agent to labour in connexion with the services at the Agricultural Hall. But, after all, one man in such a multitude can do but little, and on Sunday evening Mr. Davidson, instead of preaching a sermon, organized, as it were, a public meeting, – yet not exactly a public meeting, for there was no chairman, there was no rhetorical fireworks, no murmurs of applause – the aim of which was to elicit Christian co-operation in evangelistic work in that particular locality. Belonging to their congregation there are some two hundred young men. How much can they do if they have but the willing heart!

The service commenced in the usual manner by the singing of a hymn. Mr. Davidson, who was in his pulpit and wore his gown, then offered up prayer, leading up to what was to be the peculiarity of that evening’s service. He then delivered a short address explanatory of the circumstances in which that meeting had been originated, and which had led to the visit of the deputation who were to address them that night. It had seemed to their evangelistic committee that an opportunity had arisen in consequence of the services at the Agricultural Hall which required the utmost efforts of Christian workers. The object of that meeting was to excite to further effort. They were all too much inclined to be supine, to be content with mere religious routine. There was a need to break through spiritual monotony. They must endeavour to breathe new life and energy and freshness. There was a fine field before them, for London truly was, as it was often termed, the finest missionary field in the world; even amidst the lowest of the low there was an encouraging feeling existing. The masses felt that on the whole the Christians were their best friends – those most ready to do them good temporally as well as spiritually. Especially was it so in that particular district. The Church was much to blame in that it had not been more ready to take advantage of this feeling and to turn it to proper account. People had often been driven away from places of worship. As an illustration, Mr. Davidson said that in one of the churches in that locality a young man entered and took his seat one Sunday evening. Presently the lady to whom the pew belonged came in: she said to the young man, harshly, “This is my pew, you have no business here.” The young man took up his hat and walked out, resolving never to enter a place of worship again. In a week after, he was dead.

“In their various societies,” continued Mr. Davidson, “there was ample room for all; some were more fitted for one kind of work than another, but they wanted workers of all kinds. There was a large amount of Christian talents amongst them lying waste, and they were losers, no one could say to how great an extent, through all eternity, in consequence. When there was a cry of anguish from earth, Christ came; and now can we refuse to utter the response, when there is a cry to the Church, ‘Lord, here am I; send me?’ Help is needed, nor can the work be done without human help.” The reverend gentleman then called on Mr. Mathieson, the banker of Lombard Street, who stood up in the table pew, and, after a short prayer, proceeded to read a few verses from Matthew’s Gospel, describing how the multitude were fed in the wilderness with seven loaves and a few small fishes. “In our time,” said the speaker, “there was just such a multitude exclaiming, ‘Who will show us any good?’ and in the Scriptures we find rules for our guidance. We find our means of usefulness in the inexhaustible love of our Saviour. No man could do any good who did not feel that. Christ said, ‘I have compassion on the multitude.’ What was compassion? Fellowship in suffering. And this is required from us. It was in this the greater part of Christ’s suffering consisted. We may be ready to come to Christ, to have fellowship with Him at this table; but the question is, Are we equally anxious to have fellowship with Him in His suffering? It was the wonder-working power of love by which Christ fed the multitude. The practical question, How many loaves have ye? was one to be put to us. If our answer is, We have scarce enough for ourselves; we have very little over, we must use that. The manna that was not eaten at once became corrupt. We must realize the fact that when we took God’s vows upon us we became as much consecrated to His service as any priest. Find out your gifts, learn not to be impatient of results, and make the most of the opportunity God has given you in so remarkable a manner to work in His service.” Such was the substance of Mr. Mathieson’s address. Another hymn was sung, and then Dr. A. P. Stuart, a medical man well known at the West-end, spoke briefly yet energetically on the living Christ, and the constraining power of His death and resurrection as the most powerful and only stimulus to Christian zeal. The discourse was constructed on two passages in Paul’s Epistles to the Corinthians, in which he shows how the love of Christ was the motive power, and how necessity was laid on Him in consequence to preach the Gospel. “It was not alone,” said the Doctor, “the living Christ, but it was the fact that He died for sin, that supplied the foundation of Christian effort. All we can do is far too little to show forth His praise. What is wanted is life in the soul – a dead soul can do nothing.” The speaker then showed what a revival of religion had been produced by personal conversation after sermons, and concluded with an urgent appeal – an address of unusual earnestness. Then Mr. Davidson closed the service in the usual way. The experiment was a bold one, but none present could have regretted it. Why should not qualified laymen give addresses in our chapels and churches on special occasions – on a Sunday night? Is there a valid reason why they should not, or why ministers should not thankfully accept their aid?

PARK CHURCH, HIGHBURY

At the back of substantial and well-to-do Highbury Place, bounded by the New River and the North London Railway, has sprung up of late years a flourishing settlement of villas, single and semi-detached, known as Highbury New Park. At one end of it there has been erected, at a cost of somewhere about eleven thousand pounds, a very handsome place of worship of white brick, ornamented with a very handsome spire. From an inscription in front of it I learn that it is a United Presbyterian Church, and that the pastor is the Rev. John Edmond, D.D. The Doctor came from the north to London some few years ago to preach to a congregation of Scotch men and women, meeting in Myddelton Hall, Islington, whence they had to move, as the church increased in success and influence and Christian zeal and power. Boswell, when introduced for the first time to old Sam Johnson, admitted that he was a Scotchman, but added, humbly and by way of apology, that indeed he could not help it. “Sir,” replied the Doctor, “that’s what many of your countrymen cannot help;” and, the writer would add, a good thing too, when we see what Dr. Edmond is, and how he and his church labour to spread Christian truth around.

Inside you are struck with the comfort and cheerful appearance of the building. In form it is almost a square, and is remarkably light and airy. The pews are all open and well cushioned. The pulpit is a handsome platform. Underneath is the choir. The chapel is computed to seat comfortably 1200, but that estimate is rather under than over the mark. Underneath the chapel are rooms fitted up with every convenience for week-evening lectures, for meetings of young men’s mutual improvement societies, for ladies’ working parties, and the other organizations of an active and flourishing church. I find here about 2000l. is annually raised for religious purposes. The pastor has a salary of 700l. a year. Attached to the place is a Young Men’s Literary Institute, a Young Men’s Christian Fellowship Association, a Missionary Association, a Psalmody Association, a Ladies’ Working Association. In Highbury New Park there are no poor people, and, consequently, there is no missionary agency or Sunday-school in connexion with that district; but the church, consisting of between four and five hundred members, is not idle nor neglectful of its special privilege and duty. In the neighbouring Hoxton there are many poor untaught, and for their souls the church in Highbury cares. There a City missionary is employed, whose labours are not in vain. They have organized a Mothers’ Meeting, a Bible Class, Penny Weekly Readings and Musical Entertainments, a Singing Class, and a Band of Hope. Last year their missionary conducted 156 in-door and 21 out-of-door meetings, 2100 district visitations for Scripture reading, &c., 500 district visitations to the sick and dying, besides the distribution of a large number of religious tracts. In Harvey Street, Hoxton, the church maintains a Sunday-school with an average attendance of 160, a day-school not so numerous, a Sick Relief Society, and in Albert Square another Sunday-school and a domestic servant class. Dr. Edmond himself preaches twice on the Sunday, and once on a week-night. He has a special service for servants on Sunday afternoons; on Fridays and Saturdays he also holds Bible classes. On Sundays the service itself is conducted very simply, much as it was in old-fashioned Dissenting chapels before the introduction of chants and anthems. To the stranger the principal novelty is the vast preponderance of young men in the congregation, and the use of that somewhat inelegant version of the Psalms compared with which, in Scotch – not English ears,

“Italian thrills are tame.”

And now what further shall the writer say of Dr. Edmond? Personally he does not come up to the English idea of a successor of one of the old grand Presbyterians who died gladly for God and His covenant in troubled times, and to whom, humanly speaking, as Mr. Froude has well shown, England owes the civil and religious liberty she enjoys. Even with his gown on he does not strike you as being a big man. His features are small, and when he is reading or looking down his very dark eyebrows completely shadow and eclipse his eyes. For his age he is very bald, but his face is apparently that of a man of hardy constitution and active out-door life. His voice is excellent, and every syllable he says can be distinctly heard. He preaches apparently from notes, and as he goes on his way rejoicing the fire burns; he leaves his desk, now retreating behind, now walking a few steps on one side, and a smile lights up his face as he talks of what the Gospel has done, and of the brighter triumphs it has yet to achieve. At other times he comes forward, reaching his right arm as far as he can over the desk, as if anxious to individualize his appeal, and to force it home to every heart. As a preacher he hammers at his text with true Scotch pertinacity, and will not give it up till in the way of spiritual truth he has wrung from it all it can be made to yield. There can be no question about his orthodoxy, or his knowledge of Scripture, or of the firm foundations of his faith, or of the ample preparation he makes for his Sunday services. No hearer need go empty away from Park Church. It must be his own fault exclusively if he does. The preacher understands his vocation, and to it conscientiously devotes his every power.

The English have never taken kindly to Presbyterianism; the simplicity of its worship, the sternness of its Calvinistic creed – that of the Westminster Assembly of Divines – have repelled our English sympathies. Of late it has put forth, and is still putting forth, growing strength. There are about twenty Presbyterian churches in London, only two of them – Dr. Cumming’s being the principal – being connected with the State Church of Scotland.

The Presbyterians are moving with the stream; they are beginning to substitute “human hymns,” as they are called, for the Psalms of David. In one London chapel, at least, the organ has been introduced. In some quarters doubts have been entertained as to the divine right of Presbytery. There is amongst them a growing feeling of the impossibility of spending the whole time of the Sabbath in “the public and private exercises of God’s worship, except so much as is taken up in works of necessity and mercy.” It is to be questioned whether the Catechism definition of the duties of the State in relation to the Church is maintained by London Presbyterians. “The civil magistrate hath authority, and it is his duty, to take order that unity and peace be preserved in the Church; that the truth of God be kept pure and entire; that all blasphemies and heresies be suppressed, all corruptions and abuses in worship and discipline prevented or reformed, and all the ordinances of God duly settled, administered, and observed. For the better effecting whereof he hath power to call synods, to be present at them, and to provide that whatsoever is transacted in them be according to the mind of God.” The Calvinism of the moderns is not the Calvinism of the Westminster Assembly, and yet every clergyman at his ordination declares that “he sincerely owns and believes the whole doctrine contained in the Confession of Faith to be founded upon the Word of God; acknowledges it as the Confession of his Faith; that he will firmly and constantly adhere to it; and that he disowns all doctrines, tenets, and opinions whatsoever contrary to and inconsistent with the Confession.” Holy Willie’s prayer —