1856–1860
Ireland — F. R. H. and the Irish girls — Hebrew studies — Grateful memory of Bible class teachings — ‘‘ Nearer heaven!” — Chapters learnt — “Touching the hem” — Leaving St. Nicholas’ — The loving teacher — Last page in Sunday Scholar’s Register — Welcome to Shareshill.
A N Irish school-girl pens the following recollections of meeting F. R. H. on her first visit to Celbridge Lodge, Ireland, May 1856.
Five o’clock p.m. was the hour appointed for the elder girls from the school to arrive at the Lodge. Mrs. Shaw met us at the hall door with gentle words to each, and then brought us into the drawing-room, we being in a great state of delight at the thought of seeing “the little English lady.” In a few seconds Miss Frances, carolling like a bird, flashed into the room! Flashed! yes, I say the word advisedly, flashed in like a burst of sunshine, like a hillside breeze, and stood before us, her fair sunny curls falling round her shoulders, her bright eyes dancing, and her fresh sweet voice ringing through the room. I shall never forget that afternoon, never! I sat perfectly spellbound as she sang chant and hymn with marvellous sweetness, and then played two or three pieces of Handel, which thrilled me through and through. She finished with singing her father’s tune (Hobah) to “The Church of our fathers.” She shook hands with each, and said with a merry laugh: “the next time I come to Ireland I think we must get up a little singing class, and then you know you must all sing with me!”
As we walked home down the shady avenue one and another said: “Oh, isn’t she lovely? and doesn’t she sing like a born angel!” “TI love her, I do; and I’d follow her every step of the way back to England if I could.” “Qh, she’s a real Colleen Bawn!”
Another of the class felt, all the time, that there must be the music of God’s own love in that fair singer’s heart, and that so there was joy in her face, joy in her words, joy in her ways. And the secret cry went up from that young Irish heart: “Lord, teach me, even me, to know and love Thee too.”
On her next visit to Ireland the singing class was formed. An invalid remembers at this time her “tender lovingkindness in lonely days of sorrow and suffering. It was Miss Frances who first taught me Greek, which was swchk an interest and help to me, and afterwards she gave me Hebrew lessons too. Truly can I say, ‘I thank my God on every remembrance of ‘thee!’”
Frances much enjoyed the study of Hebrew this summer with J. H. S. During a pleasant expedition through county Wicklow one of our party was a learned Hebrew scholar. It rather discomfited our good brother-in-law that Frances’
attention seemed deeper in investigating his knowledge of Hebrew psalms and grammar than in the surrounding geography of glens and passes. One other incident of her Irish visits was her attendance at a Bible class, conducted by the Rev. M. J. Bickerstaffe (now Vicar of Cookley). Side by side with the tiniest children Frances took her seat, and long afterwards referred to the pleasure and benefit of his instructions.
September 20, 1869.
Dear Mr, BICKERSTAFFE, —
Iam so sorry not to be well enough to hear you preach this morning. Your sermons and Bible classes in 1865 were more real help to me than any I ever heard. I always look gratefully back to them as having done more to open my eyes to the ‘‘ wondrous things” in God’s word than any other human
instrumentality.
Yours affectionately and gratefully.
The year 1858 had not much incident. She mentions her pleasure in listening to her father’s Lent lectures on the Queen of Sheba, and tells her friend E: “the lectures are beautiful; you could not form an idea of their fulness and freshness without hearing them. These typical sermons are what papa specially excels in!” She writes of
—gleams and glimpses, but oh to be filled with joy and the Holy Ghost! Oh, why cannot I trust Him fully? How very sweet those words are, ‘‘I write unto you, little children, because your sins are forgiven you for His name’s sake.” They have comforted me, for I am but a little child, only a babe in the spiritual life, and this seems so tenderly addressed to such. But oh that I could grow up in Him! Sometimes I have felt almost happy in trying to realize what you write to me about, and at times I have gone on praying and pouring out all to Him, till time seemed forgotten, and I could scarcely rise and come back to earthly things. Once I had a strange thrill of joy at a passing, and may-be foolish, thought. You know how suffering I have been. Well, one evening, passing the looking-glass in the twilight, I caught sight of myself rather flushed, and I thought it looked like the hectic spot that foretells mortal disease. I know I am not in the remotest degree consumptive, but for an instant I thought it might be so. Oh the extraordinary thrill of delight the idea brought, that possibly I might be nearer heaven than I thought! It was almost ecstatic gladness; and then a chill of disappointment came when my common sense told me it could not be so! But, in whatever way or time death comes to either of us, may our lamps be trimmed and burning. 1
From this time her letters tell of
“The tremulous gleams of early days,
The first faint thrills of love and praise,
Vibrating fitfully.”
She seems to have read and learned the Scriptures systematically with her friend E. C.. In this I had joined them, and remember that in our country walks Frances repeated alternate verses with me. She knew the whole of the Gospels, Epistles, Revelation, the Psalms, and Isaiah, and the Minor. Prophets she learnt in later years. At this time she was taking the titles of Christ for her daily searchings and remarks. “Yesterday I took Christ our Advocate, it is one of the sweet titles. Alpha and Omega will be a very suitable one for Sunday. I like to think about the Lord Jesus as He is in Himself, not ozly in relation to myself.”
Incidental traces of holy walking as well as holy writing come out naturally; e.g., “I said something yesterday, dear Elizabeth, which I much regret, though thoughtlessly and not intentionally uttered. I thought, after, it seemed an imputation upon ‘ the faintest impression of which I would remove at once from your mind. Perhaps you did not notice it; but I did, and grieved that I said it.” Her home life was beautiful, though often only One knew the self-restraint and the self-denial of actions, trivial in themselves, but springing from the desire to please God. I remember her refusing to go with me for a pleasant visit to Oakhampton, because she would not leave our dear mother alone, adding “if I can only go errands it will be of some use.” (Zo £. C.) August.
As time passes on, dear Elizabeth, so does my hope strengthen that I really took a step onward when with you in the spring. It was then that (like the woman in the press) I was enabled to come and touch the hem of His garment. It was then that the truth made me free. I have lost that weary bondage of doubt, and almost despair, which chained me for so many years. I have the same sins and temptations as before, and I do not strive against them more than before, and it is often just as hard work. But, whereas I could not see why I should be saved, I now cannot see why I should not be saved if Christ died for all. On that word I take my stand and vest there. I still wait for the hour when I believe He will reveal Himself to me more directly; but it is the quiet waiting of present trust, not the restless waiting of anxiety and danger. Ais death is really my confidence, and I have tasted the sweetness of one new thing, praise!
In 1860 our father resigned the living of St. Nicholas, but not before the bishop had kindly promised that his successor should be his much esteemed curate and. friend, the Rev. Charles Bullock.
Many parting gifts from the parishioners flowed in, both for the Rector and his wife, whose organizing powers and activity had much endeared her to the parish. A most troublesome class of adult boys was quite a trophy of what loving words and “I GAVE MY LIFE FOR THEE.” 65
gentle rule could effect, and their parting address and present to her came with more costly gifts. One of her class became a Scripture reader, another an ordained minister of our Church, and all brought forth good fruit in after years.
Frances writes to E. C.:
What could be more conducive to spiritual improvement than what God has sent me lately, besides innumerable mercies, extra gratifications in many ways; all these beautiful testimonials to my precious papa, and lovely ones to dear mamma, and my own undeserved share in them, and my success in writing) for I have just received a formal application from the Editor of Good Words for poetical contributions).* On the other hand I have just enough bodily infirmity to keep me mindful and humble. Gold watches for dear Maria and myself came yesterday. .The inscriptions are both the same inside the cases: “From the parishioners of St. Nicholas, Worcester, March 1860.” The teachers and children of the Sunday School have also sent us books, nicely chosen by Mr. Bullock. One special little token from my own children I shall ever treasure.
* See ‘A Line Left Out,” in Appendix, page 343. Her well known hymn, ‘‘I gave My life for thee,” first appeared in Good Words. It was written in Germany, 1858. She had come in weary, and sat down opposite a picture with this motto. At once the lines flashed upon her, and she wrote them in pencil on a scrap of paper. Reading them over, they did not satisfy her. She tossed them into the fire, but they fell out untouched! Showing them some months after to her father, he encouraged her to preserve them, and wrote the tune ‘‘ Baca” specially for them.
Her Sunday School work was a loved employment. In the neatly kept register, entitled “My Sunday Scholars, from 1846 to 1860,” each child’s birthday, entrance date, occurrences in their home, general impressions of their character, and subsequent events in their life, are all carefully noted. While absent for a few weeks, Frances writes to them, and says: “My dear children have kept up quite a correspondence with me, and printing all my answers is quite a work of time and patience, but one I do not grudge. Some of their letters are very sweet and encouraging, and all are at least affectionate and interesting. At one time I had desperately uphill work, for mine was then the worst class in the school, and, out of fourteen, only a small minority were even hopeful. Sunday after Sunday I absolutely cry about them! Still, for some I thank God and take courage.”
“MY SUNDAY SCHOLAR’S REGISTER.”
[Zhe last page.|
I did not think when I ruled this page that it would be unfilled. Yet so it is, and the last of my dear second class fills its first space. He who appointeth the bounds of our habitation has, in manifest providence, removed our own after fifteen years’ sojourn. And it will probably be some time ere I again have a regular class to care for, as other claims will fill my Sunday hours.
= “SUNDAY SCHOLAR’S REGISTER.” 67 Re ee Ce Among all my St. Nicholas memories, none will be
fonder or deeper than my class. I cannot tell any one how I loved them, I should hardly be believed; no one in the parish, either rich or poor, called forth the same love that they did. Neither could I tell how bitter and grievous any misbehaviour among them was to me, no one knows the tears they have cost me; and because no one guessed at the depth of either the love or the sorrow, I had but little sympathy under disappointments with them. I am wrong in one thing I know, but cannot help it; the feeling that, though I may have a very sincere love and interest in other children, yet I should never be able to give any future class the same intensity of affection which these have won and some of them have reciprocated,
It has been to my own soul a means of grace. Often, when cold and lifeless in prayer, my nightly intercession for them has unsealed the frozen fountain, and the blessings sought for them seemed to fall on myself.
Often and often have my own words to them been as a message to myself of warning or peace. My only regret is that I did not spend more time in preparing my lessons for them, not more on their account than my own, for seldom have Bible truths seemed to reach and touch me more than when seeking to arrange and simplify them for my children, Therefore, I thank God that these children have been entrusted to me!
For some time past several of them have come to me, once a week, for separate reading and prayer. These times I have enjoyed very much. I rather dissuaded than otherwise, unless any real desire after salvation was manifested; and I do think that this was so far effectual that nearly all of those who did come were, at least at the time, truly in earnest on the great question. I mark * the regular, X the occasional comers. - Nearly two years have already passed since they were “my children,” and I cannot say that my love and interest have yet diminished. I went to Oakhampton at Midsummer 1859, and on my return relinquished them with great secret regret for another class. I have one token of their love; given me, ot by the then existing “2nd class,” but by those of both 1st and 2nd who were
“my children.” This I treasure for their sakes, yet the remembrance of their love is more than its outward sign.
I trust it has been ¢rwe bread which I have cast upon these waters; my Saviour knows, and He only, my earnest longings that these little ones should be His. own. I think I am quite content now that others should see the fruit, so that it be but truly borne, that others should enter into my feeble and wanting labours, But, in dear papa’s words, I do most fervently pray,
‘‘ May all whose names are written here
In the Lamb’s Book of Life appear!”
F, R. H., March 1860.
Leaving St. Nicholas was to Frances a strange mixture of sorrow and thankfulness, “because I do care more for papa and his health than for anything else in all the whole world! But it is not a trifle to leave the many, rich and poor, with whom one has necessarily become more or less entwined in a way which none but a clergyman’s family can. Yet I hope dear papa will find comparative rest and strength in consequence, by going to the little country parish of Shareshill. Papa is so very much to me, so much more than all besides! He has been very ill again, and this puts an end to all ideas of farewell sermons or visits. It is wonderfully thrilling to see him in illness, such utter peacefulness, such grand conceptions of God’s absolute sovereignty in everything, such quiet rejoicing in His will, be it what it may; such shining trust in Him, in and for everything, personal or parochial.”
The removal to Shareshill proved beneficial, and the welcome of the parishioners was pleasing and encouraging. Frances writes: “The first step, in the way of improvement at Shareshill, has been to abolish the Sunday post; to obtain this, the inhabitants were, as required, unanimous.” This subject was deeply felt by her, ever sympathising, as she did, with the men deprived of their Sunday rest; and she often grieved that some of her Christian friends did not take it up. Among the subjects upon which she intended writing, when called home in 1879, was “Sunday Postal Burdens.” And, in a letter the same year, she writes: “I do think we Church of England are more conscientious about Sunday post than some others. I was delighted when visiting ‘B. M.’ to see with the notice of post times (in the hall) ‘no delivery or despatch on Sunday.’ ‘No manner of work’ must include postal delivery, and it is not right to ignore it; it grieves me when some double-first-class Christians do not consider the subject.”