From Death into Life | Page 9

came over, as he said, "to put me in the way," I got through the service (being the only one for the day at that time), having about a score of listless people, lounging in different parts of the church, for a congregation. This was my first Sunday in my first parish.
Just at this time a book was sent me by a kind friend, entitled "The Bishopric of Souls," which terrified me even more than the Bishop's charge had done; for I felt that, notwithstanding my ardent desire to serve and glorify God, I had not the remotest conception how to do it, as regards winning souls. The author of this book took it for granted that every one who had the office of a pastor, had also the spiritual qualification for it; but experience proves that this is by no means the case. My ordination gave me an ecclesiastical position in the parish; the law maintained me in it; and the people expected me to do the duties of it: but how to carry all this out, except in a dry and formal way, I did not know.
As time went on, my parochial duties increased. I had to baptize the children, marry the young, visit the sick, and bury the dead; but I could not help feeling how different was this in action, to what it was in theory. I had had a kind of dreamland parish in my head, with daily service, beautiful music, and an assembly of worshipping people; but instead of this, I found a small, unsympathizing congregation, who merely looked upon these sacred things as duties to be done, and upon me as the proper person to do them. When I went to visit the sick I had nothing to say to them; so I read a few Collects, and sometimes gave them a little temporal relief, for which they thanked me; but I came out dissatisfied with myself, and longed for something more, though I did not know what.
Notwithstanding all these trials and disappointments, my health was gradually improving. I found that the air of this place was like meat and drink, and gave me an appetite for something more substantial. I very often frequented the beach, with its beautiful cliffs, and was much exhilarated by the bracing sea air; indeed, I had, and still retain, quite a love for the place. As my strength and energy increased, I rode about the parish all day, making the acquaintance of the people, and inviting them to come to church.
During my visits, I found out that the church warden was a good musician, and that he knew others in the parish who were able to play on various instruments; so in order to improve the services, and make them more attractive, I urged him to invite these musical people to his house to practise; and in due course we had a clarionet, two fiddles, and his bass viol, with a few singers to form a choir. We tried over some metrical psalms (for there were no hymn-books in those days), and soon succeeded in learning them. This musical performance drew many people to church. The singers were undeniably the great attraction, and they knew it; consequently I was somewhat in their power, and had to submit to various anthems and pieces, such as "Vital Spark." "Angels Ever Bright and Fair," and others, not altogether to my taste, but which they evidently performed to their own praise and satisfaction.
Finding that the people were beginning to frequent the church, I thought it was time to consider what steps should be taken about its restoration, and made it the subject of conversation with the farmers. It awakened and alarmed many of them when I said that the church must be restored, and that we must have a church rate. The chief farmer shook his head, saying, "You cannot carry that;" but I replied, "According to law, you are bound to keep up the fabric, and it ought to be done. I will write to the Vicar at once about it." He was a non-resident pluralist.
The farmer smiled at that, and said, laughing, "I will pledge myself that we will do as much as he does." It so happened that the Vicar, equally incredulous about the farmers doing anything, promised that he would do one half, if they would do the other.
Having ascertained this to my satisfaction, I immediately sent for the mason of the village, who played the clarionet in the church, also his son, who was "one of the of the fiddles," and consulted with them as to how this matter was to be accomplished. They, being in want of work at the time, readily advised me in favour of restoration. The churchwarden (the "bass viol") said "that