John Grace
by J. C. Philpot
It is rather more than 10 years since we so far knew the
late John Grace as to become personally and, indeed, we may say,
intimately acquainted with him. We were supplying at Eden Street Chapel,
London, in the summer of 1854, when one morning he quite unexpectedly, and
without any mutual friend's or other introduction, walked into our lodgings
to make our personal acquaintance; for, though well known to each other by
name, we had never met but once before, in the year 1838, and that only for
so short a time as to afford no opportunity for anything beyond a little
conversation. One very marked feature of his character was that he was "a
lover of good men;" and believing, we suppose, that the unworthy writer of
these lines was one of these "good men," he felt desirous to form his
acquaintance. He therefore came and introduced himself. We at once fell into
spiritual conversation, and a mutual union was, as we have reason to
believe, found and felt, which not only subsisted without break, but, we may
say, increased rather than diminished up to the time of his removal from
this scene of sin and sorrow.
All who had the privilege of his friendship will long
remember his open, cheerful, affectionate manner and address; his peaceable,
tender spirit; and that where he had once formed a spiritual friendship, how
firmly and uninterruptedly he maintained it by correspondence or
conversation. He would often come out of his way on his journeys to the
north, just to spend a few hours with us, and generally entered the room
with such words as, "Let brotherly love continue." Divine things were
uppermost with him in heart and tongue; and so at once we usually got, not
into carnal, worldly conversation, or a long rigmarole of outside work, but
into some sweet living and daily experience, into which we could see eye to
eye and feel heart to heart. The life of God was much kept up in his soul,
and therefore freely flowed out of his mouth. (John 7:38; Matt. 12:35.)
He was not resting upon dry doctrine, nor even a past
experience which, for lack of continual renewings, had become stale and
moldy. A daily life of faith in the Son of God, daily exercises from a body
of sin and death, daily communications of grace and strength out of the
fullness of a risen Mediator, and all kept up by a spirit of prayer and
supplications was both his experience and his theme. A dead, carnal,
lifeless profession was his abhorrence. Life in the soul, feeling in the
heart, communion with the Lord—in a word, a daily, living, feeling,
spiritual, and supernatural religion was what he knew for himself and what
he looked for in others; and where he found not this, whatever were the
pretensions, however correct the creed, plausible the tongue, or consistent
the conduct, there, as he had no satisfaction, so he had no union or
communion.
But with all this there was no cant, no sanctimonious
long face, or drawling, whining phrases; no putting on of a kind of mock
spirituality, whereby so many try to deceive themselves and others. We
never knew a more spiritually-minded man, and yet nothing of this mock
spirituality or feigned humility was visible in him. Spirituality, indeed,
of mind and of conversation he had; but with all this delight in spiritual
things, there was a most pleasing frankness and openness. He would ask about
the wife and family, have a cheerful word for the little ones—now with us no
longer little ones, the olive branches round the table, little and big, for
he had not only a friendly but a fatherly heart. Thus he was a welcome guest
wherever he went; for, without any worldliness or unbecoming lightness on
the one hand, or pharisaic austerity on the other, he could so blend
spiritual things in his conversation with passing occurrences that there was
nothing repulsive in his discourse on heavenly things, even to those who
could not experimentally enter into their meaning or their fullness.
But what made his conversation to be seasoned with salt
was, that he had a good experience both of law and gospel; and sometimes at
the breakfast or dinner table he would relate with much feeling some very
marked and blessed things which he had tested, felt, and handled in his own
soul. The last time that he was with us at our present abode he gave us,
after dinner, an account of the sweet deliverance which he received under
Mr. Vinall when he rode so many miles to hear him on a week evening, and the
deep exercises of his soul previously, with the fears and faintings of his
deferred hope. In a similar way he would often refer to his early days, when
he sat under Mr. Vinall's ministry, and whom he loved and valued as his
spiritual father, though by no means insensible to his peculiar infirmities.
The present low state of vital godliness in the churches,
the lack of dew, unction, and power in the ministry, compared with the days
of Mr. Huntington and his immediate followers, as Mr. Vinall, &c., the
carnality of professors generally, and the levity both in conversation and
conduct which so stamps the generation in which our days are cast, were
things which he deeply lamented and deplored. His own soul being kept alive
and fruitful, he saw all the more clearly and felt the more deeply the lack
of life and fruitfulness in others. And yet with all this, he was not
censorious or bitter. We never knew him guilty of that common yet detestable
practice of picking holes in other men's or ministers' coats, and, under a
show of a wonderful concern for holiness of speech and life, slandering and
backbiting friends; nor did we ever find him spurring and flogging old
nature, as if the creature, by a little extra exertion, could be made to
perform spiritual acts. He did not thus belie either his knowledge or his
profession. By grace alone he knew he was what he was; and without this
grace in others he equally well knew that as there could be no beginning, so
there could be no advance in the divine life.
But besides these there were other noticeable features
also in his Christian character which much commended both his profession and
his ministry to those who knew and loved the grace of God in him. Among them
was his great amiability of disposition and readiness to do good. He had
naturally an active and, indeed, we may say a business mind; and as this was
united to much natural amiability of disposition, and was guided and
directed by the love and spirit of the gospel, he was always ready for every
good word and work. He was favored also with a large congregation and a
liberal people to help him forward; and, thus aided and seconded, he was
always ready to do good in relieving the poor and needy, and taking up any
destitute case which was commended to his conscience. In this way, by the
liberality of his congregation during the Lancashire distress, he was able
to afford timely help to many places in the North, and took a journey there
to see for himself the real state of things, and to have the pleasure of
personally distributing it. Coupled with this amiable and affectionate
disposition, we must add that he was possessed of a very liberal spirit,
hating everything stingy and selfish, and was ever ready to show kindness
and liberality to his friends even when not needed by them.
Dropping the editorial "we," I cannot help mentioning
that when he came to see me on his journeys northward, he would generally
bring with him a basket of fish caught that morning, or some book which he
thought I might like to possess. These things may seem trifles; but trifles,
as they are called, often show men's real spirit more than larger matters;
for the former are the free, spontaneous flowings forth of the disposition,
while the latter are often forced upon men by circumstances. But, besides
these presents, thinking that I needed some better table than I possessed
for my letters and papers, he named it among his friends, and, to my
surprise, on reaching home one day two or three years ago, I found in my
room a very handsome library table, sent free to my door, accompanied by a
kind letter, that it was given to me by himself and friends as a testimony
to my long labors in the cause of truth. I love to mention these things as a
little memento of my esteem and affection for him.
Of his ministry we do not feel in the same position to
speak as freely and clearly as we have spoken of his personal character,
from this simple circumstance, that we never, to our recollection, heard him
preach above three or four times. But, as far as we could thus judge, he
seemed possessed of considerable gifts, and to have not only a good
knowledge of the word, but a great readiness in bringing forward passages
and especially scriptural characters and personages in connection with his
subject. This aptness of bringing forward scriptural proofs and
illustrations not only gave a liveliness to his preaching and a force to his
words, but much made up for his lack of order; for it must be confessed that
he did not usually carry into his discourses that orderly arrangement which
so distinguished him in other things. He had also a nice and forcible way of
quoting hymns, and especially those of his prime favorite, Hart, which
backed his words with sweetness as well as authority.
But what made his ministry so useful and acceptable was
the living spring of experience by which it was fed. Gifts, the greatest
and most splendid, soon dry up, or bore and wear—unless they are
continually fed by grace. But he had the living water, of which the Lord
spoke, springing up into everlasting life. (John 4:14.) He was also at a
point about his religion and experience, that it was from God. He knew his
standing, and could, therefore, speak with decision and power. He dwelt a
good deal when we heard him, as we believe was usually the case, on his own
experience, which, being unmistakably the work of God, gave point and edge
to his words. Thus, without being so separating as some are in word, he was
more separating in deed; for nothing in our judgment is so separating as a
good and sound experience, as it appeals so directly to the conscience; and,
if there be any feeling, is so calculated to raise up the personal inquiry,
"What do I know of these things?"
The Lord, as we have every reason to believe, much
honored his ministry. Again and again by letter, for we frequently
corresponded, or in conversation, when we met, would he relate most marked
instances of the blessing of God on his ministry. At Brighton he had many
hearers from London, and indeed all parts of the kingdom, who had come there
for health and change of air. Thus he could cast a wider net than most of
his ministerial brethren, and many good fish were caught in it who had
before swum carelessly in the sea.
Many people of rank and wealth as is well known, resort
during the season to Brighton. These have, of course, a retinue of servants.
To many of these servants Mr. Grace's ministry was singularly owned and
blessed. We have often thought of the sovereign grace of God in this. The
master or the mistress is passed by. They must go to 'church'; the servant
creeps into the 'chapel', where grace lays hold of his heart.
His was not a long, though in its first attack a somewhat
sudden and unexpected illness, and he was mercifully dealt with, and most
friendly and graciously supported in and under it. He had not what people
call his peace to make, or a God to find on his deathbed. His loins were
already girt and his light burning; and, reclining on the everlasting arms
laid beneath him, he gently passed away into the presence of the Lord whom
he so dearly loved and had so long and faithfully served.