Little Abe Part 4

Salem Chapel.

Close to the entrance of the village, at the top of the main street, and within five minutes' walk of the railway station, stands the Methodist New Connexion Chapel of Berry Brow. It is situated on the right-hand side of the street coming from Huddersfield; being on lower ground than the road, it has from this point a stunted appearance.

Pursuing the decline and curve of the street a little further brings you to the vertex of a triangle of level ground, on the base of which the chapel stands. It is fronted by a graveyard, whose two sides gradually converge towards a little iron gateway at the entrance.

Seen from here the chapel presents a more pleasing appearance, though even now an observer could not fail to be struck with the dwarfish look of the building; there is a want of height to give it proper proportion. It shows a plain stone front, which suggests that the good people who built it had no money to spend in costly ornamentation.

SALEM, the honoured name of the chapel, is inscribed on the front. The Sunday-school, which is of more recent date, stands adjoining it on the left; the foreground treasures up the dust of many pious pilgrims who, in the days gone by, came to this house of peace. The chapel has two doors in the front; inside, the appearance is exceedingly plain; the pulpit is stationed with its back against the front wall, and is enclosed by a pew that was formerly occupied by the choir, but now mostly by the speakers at the public meetings, for, being somewhat elevated, it serves as a permanent platform. The plan of the sittings is a simple rising gallery, springing from the floor half-way to the ceiling, and traversed by two aisles leading direct from either doorway; in a recess ab.u.t.ting through the right-hand wall, the organ is fixed. The chapel is capable of accommodating about three hundred persons, though there have been times when, somewhere or other, it has afforded room to much larger numbers of people that have crushed within its limited s.p.a.ce. Altogether, it is a plain, unpretentious structure, by no means equal to the growing requirements of the prosperous Church that worships there in these days.

Salem Chapel, like many other places of worship, has its story, full of sacred incident and interest. It has been the religious birthplace of hundreds of precious souls, many of whom are now in glory, while others are journeying thitherward. Many of the ablest ministers the Methodist New Connexion has ever had, have counted it a joy to preach in that old sanctuary.

Several revivals of the work of G.o.d have broken out within those walls, and spread with such rapidity and power through the neighbourhood, that Satan's strongholds have trembled before them; and in the great day of the Lord it will be said of Salem, "This and that man were born there."

But before it was built the people used to attend the High Street Chapel, Huddersfield, which involved a walk of over two miles each way, and this in unfavourable weather was no light task. The time came, however, when they began seriously to entertain the idea of having a place of worship in their own village.

Abe Lockwood was among the chief advocates of this scheme, and it was mainly owing to his activity in the matter that the undertaking was at length commenced and completed. In the month of July 1823, Abe, full of the new Chapel enterprize, entered a harvest field belonging to Mr.

S---- of Armitage Fold, where several members of the Society were at work, and took upon himself to announce that there would be a meeting in a certain house that night, for the purpose of considering whether they were to have a Chapel in Berry Brow. The meeting was held, and the decision taken in favour of the movement. They would arise and build, so in G.o.d's name they began the work.

It was a serious undertaking for them, as most of the members were poor working people, but they were in earnest, and at once opened a subscription list, each of them promising something to the fund before they went outside to solicit help from any one else. They then obtained further promises from others, and arranged to gather the money by weekly instalments, some being as little as a penny. Then, in order to save cost as much as possible, the men themselves went and delved in the quarry for stones, and borrowed horses and carts of the farmers to remove the material to the chapel site, and when it sometimes happened that they could not obtain the use of horses, they got the loan of carts, and the men, old and young, took the horse-work themselves, and drew the stones to the building place.

In all this Abe was a foremost worker, toiling early and late, and asking any one and every one to come to their help, by which means they got many of the wild young men of the village to a.s.sist in the work.

This did not, however, meet with universal approval; there were some few very good people, who mostly employed themselves in looking on, giving directions, and finding fault, who said it was not right to bring a lot of unG.o.dly young men into a work so sacred; they expostulated with Abe on the subject, he being the chief cause of their enlistment, but he replied, "Not roight for them to help in building th' Lord's haase! It must be roight; if they soil th' stones with their fingers, G.o.d will put them roight again when He gets into it. I wouldn't care if th' devil hissen were to come and drag stones for th'

place, if only Jesus is preached in it afterwards;" so the croakers didn't gain anything by their complaints, except rejoinders from Abe, which taught them a little good sense, and they went on with the building.

The foundation stone was laid on Shrove Tuesday 1824, and the chapel was opened for religious services on Good Friday 1825. The Rev. Thomas Allin preached on that occasion with his usual extraordinary ability.

From that time until now the cause has never looked back, but has maintained a steady onward course. Seasons of trial and depression have occasionally gathered over it like dark clouds, but the earnest band of Christian people it has drawn together, have been conducted under the clouds in safety, and have lived to come out again into the sunshine of prosperity.

There is not a trouble or a joy, not a throb of sorrow or a thrill of delight that ever came to that church during those years, which Abe Lockwood did not feel. He was so mixed and wrapt up in its history and workings that he counted its very pulsations as distinctly as he felt his own. In later years, when other labourers were brought into the church, and his services as a local preacher came into greater demand, many of the duties involved in conducting the cause fell into other hands; but Abe's love for Salem never did and never could diminish; to him it was the most beautiful sanctuary in the Circuit or out of it; and there it stands as a monument of the zeal and devotion of those earnest men who more than fifty years ago laid its foundations, and reared its sacred walls in the name of the Lord.

They are nearly all gone to their reward, Abe among them, but in no sense more than this is the Scripture fulfilled, "He being dead yet speaketh."

CHAPTER X.

Abe becomes a Local Preacher.

Several years had pa.s.sed away from the date of Abe's marriage, and a family of young children had sprung up around him, filling his cottage with life, and keeping him and his active wife constantly employed to supply their daily necessities. Hard times they had during those years, but they held on their honest way, content with what they got, and envying no one that was in better circ.u.mstances than themselves.

During all these years Abe continued a devoted follower of Christ; he was always at the means of grace, and his chief aim was to be a true disciple of the cross. At the same time he was slowly acquiring ability to speak in the meetings with more propriety and effect.

Methodist prayer-meetings and cla.s.s-meetings are excellent training schools for public speakers. Most of the best ministers in Methodism first learnt to talk in these little meetings, where they have had, week by week, opportunities of expressing their thoughts and feelings upon their religious life and experience; and although there are some who have profited but very little by the benefits afforded in this way, there are many others who have made their way from that humble beginning up to the highest ranks of the Christian ministry.

In this training inst.i.tution Abe slowly and steadily improved his powers, till some of his friends began to think he ought to have his name placed on the Circuit plan as an exhorter. It was accordingly mentioned to him, but for some time met with no very favourable response from Abe. "Come on t' plan," exclaimed he; "nay, not soa, unless you want to mak' a clerk o' me; but I can say Amen, without being planned."

However, circ.u.mstances sometimes happen which have more force of argument in them than anything that men can say. It occasionally transpired, that some local preacher who was planned to preach in Salem Chapel did not come to his appointment, and some person in the congregation had to take the vacant place, and conduct the service as well as he might be able without any previous preparation. Now it appears that Abe found himself placed just in this very unenviable position. The congregation were all in the chapel; the hour of service had come, and pa.s.sed, yet no preacher arrived; the people were whispering and looking at the clock; one brother went to the door to see if there were any sign of the preacher's coming; two or three of the leading brethren were whispering together, and then one of them came over to Abe and said, "I'm afraid there's going to be no preacher, thou'll be like to try and talk a bit this morning."

"Me, noa, I canna praach, mun," said Abe, evidently agitated.

"Aye, but thou can; thou'll have to try, and we'll pray for thee."

Abe turned pale, looked up at the little pulpit, then down on the ground, and then said, "I've now't to talk abaat, noa, I canna tak'

it." Then another brother came and united his persuasion to that of the man already with him, and at length Abe arose and went into the singing pew in front of the pulpit, pale and trembling, and announced a hymn. The service began, and grew into a kind of compromise between a prayer meeting and preaching. The preacher took a text, and in his own style did his best to speak from the words,--the probability is he _did speak from them_, further from them than critical hearers would judge proper, but what of that? He did his best, and there were none in the congregation but knew him and knew his consistent life; and although what he said was very unpreaching-like, it did not matter; the people were well pleased, and Abe was very glad when it was over.

After the first time this occurred again and again in Salem, until Abe began to be looked upon as the general stop-gap, as they called him.

But he was not to occupy that post always; it was only the stepping-stone to something else, for by-and-bye some of the local preachers would take him out with them to their appointments, and let him talk to the people as well as he was able. Wherever he went they said he must be sure and come again; he was so quaint, droll, plain, yet withal so fervent, that everyone enjoyed his remarks, and wished to hear him again.

About the year 1833, and during the ministry of the Revs. J. Curtis and G. Bradshaw in the Huddersfield Circuit, an incident took place which will give an idea of the style of Abe's early preaching efforts. It was on one Shrove Tuesday afternoon that he had to preach at Paddock;--the service was at that time conducted in a cottage;--a good deal of talk had been indulged in by the people in antic.i.p.ation of Abe's visit, and a great amount of curiosity and interest was excited.

The place was full. Abe arrived, rubbing his hands, and blessing the Lord, and immediately took his place, and commenced the service. His prayer was like himself, rough and earnest; Divine power came down upon the little company, and tears of joy ran from all eyes. He selected a lesson with which he was familiar, and managed the reading very creditably. Abe then took his text, the subject being Abraham offering up his son Isaac on Mount Moriah. Just at that moment the Rev. J.

Curtis came into the service. Now the unexpected appearance of the Superintendent Minister, under circ.u.mstances like those, would have unnerved most young preachers, but it had no such effect on Abe; he no sooner set his eyes on him, than he said, "Naa thaa sees I'm at it, we're just baan off to Mount Moriah, and thaa mun goa too," and off he went in a style peculiarly his own.

He drew some very amusing pictures of the patriarch, his son, and the young men preparing for the journey; he had Abraham ordering the servant men to do this, fetch that, undo something else; he had a deal of trouble in saddling the a.s.ses, those animals exhibiting the obstinate tendencies for which their descendants are even yet so renowned; all was at length ready, Abraham and his attendants were mounted and setting off, when the door was again opened, and in walked the Rev. G. Bradshaw, the young minister. At sight of him Abe shouted, "Aye, lad, thaa art baan to be too late, we've gotten th' mules saddled and had a'most gone withaat thee, but niver moind, thaa mun catch a mule for theesen, and come on behind." So away they went, Abe taking the lead, and the people mentally following.

He preached them such a sermon as they had never heard in their lives--nor anybody else. Now they laughed at his odd sayings and grotesque pictures, and then with melting feelings they praised G.o.d as they listened to some of the simple yet truly beautiful sayings which fell from his lips. As a sermon, there was enough to find fault with, for he knew nothing about the art of sermonizing, and cared as little; but it was so full of homely truth and spiritual feeling, that every one, ministers not excepted, forgave the faults, and said it was a means of grace.

In this way Abe continued for some time, occasionally preaching without being officially recognized, but at length his name was placed on the plan as a local preacher on trial. When the term of his probation was almost expired, Abe was required to preach one week-night in High Street Chapel, Huddersfield.

HIS TRIAL SERMON.

It was a terrible trial for him, which appears strange, considering how easy he felt when the Circuit ministers heard him in the little room at Paddock, yet so it was; and as the time came on, Abe thought he never could show his face in High Street. Had it been anywhere else he would not have cared, but he had a dread of the Circuit Chapel. He had gone to several of the country places during the year, and sometimes did very well; but then, he felt at home among the plain village people; they could understand his broad vernacular, and make allowance for his blunders, which he knew were not a few, but in High Street everything was different. He thought they could not exercise the same forbearance towards him, and so he shrank from the task.

But then he remembered it was not a place of his own seeking; that it was a trial which other plain men had undergone before him, and would do again, and he could not expect more favour than his brethren; so he must go and do his best, trusting in the Lord for help. And that evening Sally brushed him up, and had his clogs polished, and away he went to Huddersfield. There was a good congregation to hear him, and among others several local preachers. Abe was very nervous, and everything around conspired to make him so. He was in High Street Chapel, awful; he had to preach, worse; to preach a trial sermon, worse than ever; before all these grand folks, and in the presence of the Superintendent, it was blinding, sickening, confounding. He started at the sound of his own voice, and when he tried to speak, he somehow said just what he didn't intend, and made more mistakes than he had either time or sense to rectify; then, whenever he moved his feet, his clogs clamped on the floor in such a way as he had never heard them anywhere else; he was in a fever of excitement and fear. However, he had to preach; so having announced his text, he commenced his sermon, but it was evidently hard for him to say anything; he tried and tried, rolled his eyes up and all around, clasped his hands, uttered a few sentences, scratched his head, and exclaimed, "Friends, I'm plogged" (meaning he could not go on), "she weant goa; if this is preaching trial sermon, I'll niver try another; we'll be like to swap texts" (try another text). Now while he was finding another text, the congregation sang a hymn, and by the time this was done, Abe was ready with his text, which he announced and again started to speak, but with no greater success, for it seemed as if all his ideas were gone wool-gathering. He coughed, stammered, and sweat at every pore, but brought forth nothing else; an encouraging word or two from one of the brethren was very welcome at that moment, for looking towards him, Abe said, "She weant goa, but we'll try another."

Twice breaking down in one service would have satisfied any ordinary man in his circ.u.mstances, and so daunted many as that they would never have been heard of again; but Abe was no ordinary man, and was not soon killed; he had come there to try to preach, and it was evident to everyone that he was trying; he knew that if he made another attempt he could not do worse than he had done, and he might do better, and if he did break down there would not be anything very unusual in it, seeing it would make the third time, so he found another text and announced it. Everybody was wide awake and ready for another stop, but Abe smiled, brightened up, and went on; "She's baan to goa this time, I do believe," said he, and so it proved, for when he got into his subject he spoke very fluently, sensibly, and naturally, and all present felt that Abe could preach when he got started, and how could he or any one else preach without starting?

A short time after this eventful service Abe had to pa.s.s through another trying ordeal. His case had to come before the Circuit quarterly meeting, the tribunal which has made many an innocent man tremble. There he had to be examined as to his acquaintance with and belief in the Methodist doctrines, rules, etc. What may have been the merits of this examination we are unable to state; probably there was a good deal of leniency shown by the meeting towards Abe. If he was deficient on some points, he compensated in others; if he could not define and defend all the articles of our faith, he could believe them as fully as any one else; be that as it may, there was no serious objection taken to him on the ground of his examination, but the affair of the trial sermon was not so soon got over, and a good deal of special pleading had to be done for him by his friends, which is no unusual thing when the merits of a candidate are under discussion.

That "swapping of texts" no less than three times was a very extraordinary feature in the case, and called forth some severe censures. A man that did so could not be fit to come on the Circuit plan as an accredited local preacher, so some in the meeting felt and said; but others thought differently; they could not but admit that under the circ.u.mstances he had done a good thing even in changing texts the third time, and why impeach the man for doing a good thing? The man who changes horses in crossing a stream may incur great risks; but if the horse he is riding be sinking under him, he must change seats or sink too, and this is just what Abe did, and the outcome showed that he did the best thing, for the third horse carried him over. He at least possessed an amount of perseverance which few men in similar circ.u.mstances would have exhibited; then he must not be estimated solely by what he was when under trial in High Street chapel. How had he done in other places? Here the tide began to tell in his favour, as first one and then another spoke in commendation of his labour in other places, and at length Brother Haigh rose and said, "Abe Lockwood was with me on Sunday night at Mills Bridge; I heard him preach, and he did my soul good. After the sermon an old man seventy years of age came out, sought the Lord, and found Him; that old man was impressed under Abe's sermon, which shows that G.o.d can do with his preaching. What matter if he does sometimes break down in his sermons? he knows how to break sinners down too, and after all, that is the best sort of preaching." He was at once cordially received into the ranks of the local preachers, and appeared as such in January 1837; and from that time to the end of his life was as earnest, devoted, and popular as any man among that band, as worthy a band of men as ever worked a Methodist circuit.

So Abe became a local preacher, and while he always felt and said that the office honoured him, he, on the other hand, did his utmost to honour the position which the Church had called him to occupy.

Methodism owes very much to those brave, earnest, and G.o.dly men who have, during all her history, through all her struggles, laboured cheerfully on, year after year, often at immense personal sacrifice and suffering, carrying the tidings of salvation to outstanding districts, which would seldom have heard the Gospel but for their disinterested services. Their toils cannot have been for worldly honours, where could they win them? They cannot have been for pecuniary gain, because their labours have ever been gratuitous, and often expensive to themselves;--pelted with hailstones, dripping with rain, torn by storms, blistered with sun-heat, in all parts of the land, over miles of barren hills and wild moor, through dirty lanes and new-ploughed fields, giving ungrudgingly of their strength; Sunday after Sunday leaving the home enjoyments of their family and the sanctuary to carry the Gospel of Christ to those afar off. What will the Master do to those brave labourers of His in the day of award? He will make them great in the Kingdom of Heaven.

CHAPTER XI

In Practice.

We may now consider that Abe had really commenced practice as a local preacher, and before long the numerous demands made upon him professionally showed the estimation in which he was held among the people. But there was one thing which gave him considerable trouble, and that was his preparation for the pulpit. This was a great toil to him, but he counted himself abundantly rewarded when he found that G.o.d made his simple, earnest sayings a blessing to the people to whom he preached. Abe had no quiet room in his house into which he could retire for the purpose of meditation. His home was full of children, and each of the little rooms resounded with their merry or troubled outcries from morning till night. His study was elsewhere. There was one spot more sacred to him than any other in the world, and that was at the old tree-root on Almondbury Common, where, years before, he found the blessing of Divine pardon. To that Bethel he often turned his steps, and there would he run through his sermons with no audience but the old tree and the little brook; and although his earnest addresses produced no manifest change either on the stoical old elm, or the unstable stream, the practice of speaking did him good, and helped to make him more effective when he came to address a more appreciative a.s.sembly.

His frequent visits to this sacred and secret spot began, by-and-by, to be known among his acquaintances, and some of them determined to go and watch him, and make fun of it. They accordingly went and hid themselves where they could both see and hear all that pa.s.sed. Abe came and began the service, prayed and preached with great liberty, considering the irresponsive audience before him; but while he was preaching and pointing out the folly and danger of sin, and exhorting to repentance, his words were reaching unknown ears, and searching their way into more hearts than he was aware of. These spies were caught in their own net; they felt the truth of the simple preaching.

They knew those words applied more to themselves than anything else.

They listened in fear and silence, and when they would gladly have got beyond the sound of his voice, they dared not move lest he should discover them, and make his discourse even more personal. When the preacher had prayed earnestly, and had retired from his rural sanctuary, the hidden and moveable part of his congregation were glad to get away. Some of the callous ones endeavoured afterwards to chaff Abe about the open-air service, but most of them were glad to say nothing on the subject, inwardly determining never again to venture profanely within the sacred precincts of the good man's sanctuary.

Abe gradually grew in the esteem of the people throughout the entire Circuit, so that his coming to preach was quite an event of interest among them. They knew he was in earnest for his Master's glory; and though he sometimes said and did things which some men would shrink from, and some would condemn if done by others, no one was displeased at them in little Abe. He was a favourite, and special privileges were accorded him, so that he could say and do just as he pleased. He knew this quite well, and, though he seldom fell into the error of using it as a license, it had the effect of bringing him out in his own true character.

Sometimes he became very happy in the pulpit, and fairly jumped for joy. He was preaching at Shepley, and, as was his frequent custom, he had a brother local preacher in the pulpit with him, to a.s.sist in the preliminary exercises. On this occasion our old friend T. Holden acted as his curate. Abe was blessed with great liberty during the delivery of the sermon: he wept, clapped his hands, stamped his feet, and rattled his clogs together. Brother Holden shuffled about to make room for him as well as he could in the narrow area of the pulpit, but he was not quick enough; down came Abe's foot on the curate's toes, almost capsizing the preacher, without in the least disconcerting him. "Moind thee toas, lad, steam's up, I mun jump a bit." And he did jump, the more freely, too, when his a.s.sistant retired from his exalted position, and left him all the pulpit to himself. It is evident from this little event just narrated, and others which might be given, that Abe did, in time, overcome his nervousness in the pulpit; being "plogged," and "breaking down," became things of the past, and he began to feel as much at home in the pulpit as in his own house. So far did he show that "practice makes perfect."