Thomas Stringer

The Life And Ministry Of Thomas Stringer

Earthen Vessel 1887:

The Late Mr. Thomas Stringer

“In vain I mourn, and drop these funeral tears;

Death and the grace have neither eyes nor ears.”

Dr. Watt’s Lyrics, Sacred To The Dead

It was with feelings of great disappointment and regret that we were debarred from paying our last tribute of sincere affection to the memory of our dear friend and brother in Christ, Thomas Stringer, in not attending his funeral on March 28th, as we were then engaged in Oxfordshire.

Although the late Thomas Stringer could not boast of either learning, riches, or worldly fame, he could boast of what Christ had done in the salvation of his immortal soul, and of the value of rich, free and sovereign grace. In the person and deportment of Mr. Stringer there a manliness and true nobleness, descriptive of a fine old English Christian gentleman. Of course, like all men who know themselves, he could not glory in perfection only as he stood in his glorious Head, Christ Jesus.

In many things our departed brother was truly gifted. Who could hear his sonorous voice, tempered with a mellow ring, and his rushing flow of speech, almost at times like the roaring of a cataract when fired with the love of his Master, and anxious in defending the grand truth committed as a steward to his trust, without concluding him to be man of rare pulpit qualifications? Had he received the advantage of a superior early training, probably he might have outshone many brilliant stars in the Gospel kingdom of his time, although, doubtless, much of his original ruggedness, so much appreciated by many of his hearers, would have been ground down and spoiled in the polishing. 

Thomas Stringer As A Hymnologist

If he were not born a poet, Mr. Stringer had certainly caught the inspiration of the grandest of old masters of evangelical song, Isaac Watts, D.D., of blessed memory, and which is clearly developed in the neat little volume of hymns now before us, entitled, “The Voice of Melody; or, Songs of Praise,” by Thomas Stringer, a second edition of which was published by R. Banks, Racquet-court, Fleet-street, in 1874. It has often affected our gravity, when in days past we have heard him boldly announce the number of a hymn in the course of divine service and which he supplemented with the word “original.” Independent of the knowledge he possessed of his own compositions, he had thoroughly digested the Psalms, Hymns and Lyrics of Dr. Watts, as also the hymns of Dr. Hawker, Joseph Irons, and other celebrated authors of sacred song, and most of which he could quote in extenso. The humble view he had of himself as a hymn-writer caused him on one occasion to say, “I am dying between two doctors—Dr. Watts and Dr. Hawker!’” Mr. Stringer’s hymns were written mainly to be used as a supplement to Dr. Watts’ Psalms and Hymns, and in his second edition he added fifty new hymns. Many of them are strictly characteristic of himself as a saved sinner, and of the great veneration in which he held the name of his divine Master, Jesus. Here is one (421) beginning—

“Go forth, ye servants of the Lord,

Contend for truth, and preach the Word;

Sound forth the Savior’s mighty fame,

And high exalt His glorious name.”

In all Mr. Stringer’s hymns there is expressed a glowing ardor of attachment to the dear Lord he so long loved and served, also a strength of confidence in the eternal purposes of divine grace. There is in them also an elevated strain that sours beyond the base corruption of the human heart, which in the most seasonable times are not altogether suitable for public worship. Hymn 219 is a noble one. The author strikes out in lively strains, almost seraphic—

“Rejoice, ye saints, King Jesus lives,

And life to every member gives;

In Him we’ve all things and abound,

Come, then, His glorious praise resound.”

A beautiful commixture of experimental and practical hymns are in the collection, showing a mind exercised and fruitful in the things of God, which must find an echo in the hearts of all lovers of Christ who read them. On the conflict of the soul against sin he says (347)—

“All hail, ransomed Sinner, from sin, death, and hell,

You prove that within you two natures now dwell;

You’re perfectly righteous—unholy and base— 

A vessel of mercy, a subject of grace.”

On page 378 our author gives his “confession,” which is original, racy and interesting. “His character,” on page 380, is true in every point. Our copy of these hymns is a presentation one from the author which we much prize. We think that if friends wish to cherish a memorial of the inner and outer life of our departed brother, they cannot do better than purchase copies of these hymns, by which they would not only spiritually benefit themselves under the blessing of God, but help the author’s widow in her bereavement and present sore trouble.

Our beloved brother Thomas Stringer has now passed the narrow verge of time, and has entered fully into that joy of which he was not a stranger when a sojourner in this vale of tears. How apropos are the immortal lines of Watts, in his happy flight to glory—

“In God’s own arms he left his breath 

That God’s own Spirit gave;

His was the noblest road to death, 

And his the sweetest grave.”

We have before us several sweet and interesting notices of our departed friend and brother in Christ, by C. Cornwell, J. W. Banks, P. Bedford, and others, to whom he was well known. There is always much that is truly solemn, and yet soul-inspiring, in the departure of a sterling Christian, and especially such an one as our venerable brother Thomas Stringer. May we all, beloved readers, be enabled, when death shall come, to face eternity as he did, without a fear, resting upon the same solid Rock of Ages, Christ Jesus. The conjoint record of his last hours and funeral service, furnished by our kind correspondents, will, we are sure, be read with mingled feelings of joy and sorrow; and which we give in the following consecutive order.

W. Winters, Editor

Churchyard, Waltham Abbey, Essex.


Last Days Of Mr. Thomas Stringer

By Charles Cornwell

I frequently visited our departed brother Stringer, during his last week upon the earth; when his sufferings were such as no tongue, pen, or type can describe; but of his death I was not an eye-witness. I think it is generally understood that he suffered from weakness of the heart. He took to his bed, Monday, March 7th. I visited him on the following Thursday, and found him surrounded by his devoted wife and four daughters. His pain was then so incessant, that as soon as one attack was over, another came upon him; and at which times his whole body trembled with agony—yea, his trembling shook the bed! But during the brief moments between the attacks of pain, some precious passages of Scripture and hymns would be sure to come from his lips, which showed the happy state of his mind, for heaven had already begun to open itself to him. One present gave him a little drink, when he looked round and said, “They have him vinegar, mixed with gall, soaked in a sponge, put on a pole, as much as to say, ‘There, take that, that is good enough for you’—I’ve got this,” pointing to the cup from which he had just drunk.

On Friday I received a postcard, informing me that he was not so well; I visited him, and found him much weaker in body, and greatly suffering. Oh, the pain, the sweating agony he endured, yet never a murmur, but through it all, his heart and soul were filled with the things of God! Saturday I saw him again, and found him in almost the same case as the day before; still he was full of heavenly matter, and spake of the blessedness of being prepared to meet God. I did not see him on Sunday, but when I arrived at his residence on Monday morning, I was informed by the family that he had spent the day and night in great pain, but his language had been heavenly. I saw him again on Tuesday and was with him some time in the morning, and again from a little after five till nearly nine in the evening. His pain was not so severe nor his voice so strong, the intervals between were a little longer, and he was somewhat drowsy at times, so that he did not say much the following are all the words spoken by him between six and eight o’clock in the evening:—“Lift me up, lift me up. Oh! the pain, the pain, the pain. Oh! oh! oh dear! I am so ill! I am so ill! Oh, pray don’t! Oh pray don’t (speaking to the pain, which he compared to a knife stabbing him in the heart)! I must get up! How is that poor boy?” referring to his son who was lying dangerously ill in an adjoining room. He was exhausted, and again slept a few minutes. Oh! how still and solemn was he death-chamber, no sound but the low and even tick of the clock. After a few minutes he revived again, with, “My pain is perpetual, incessant, don’t, don’t talk (someone was whispering), I want to lay quiet if I can, and think; I can’t talk, my talking days are over, and while the benefit is mine, be all the glory Thine. Wonderful! Wonderful! (In answer to his own thoughts) Yes! Yes! Yes! Lord.” When I bade him good-bye for the night, he said, “Good-bye, my brother, I wish my dear and heavenly Father would send from above and take my spirit home to Himself, if it be His dear and only will—don’t stop longer my brother; good-bye, good-bye.” Wednesday, 16th, I was with him for some time during the morning. He was then blessedly composed in his mind; his language was that of a citizen of Zion, such as, “Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!”

“Jesus, the King of Glory, reigns

On Zion’s heavenly hill;

Looks like a lamb that has been slain,

And wears His priesthood still.”

As this was our service night I did not see him in the after part of the day. 

On Thursday, 17th, his last day upon earth, I was there by nine o’clock in the morning. He was somewhat restless, but his pain of body had somewhat abated; his mind was all full of heaven as though he had come down from the world of light. I only stayed a short time with him, but went home, and returned about two o’clock; he was then more free from pain than he had been during the whole of the week previous; he was asleep when I entered his bed-room, and I was told he had slept for half-an-hour. Soon after I entered his room he opened his eyes, and said, “Come Thou sweetest fairest, best, and blessed one, and take me to behold the glories of the Lamb amidst His Father’s throne.” I helped to lift him up several times, and on one occasion, while holding him up in bed, he looked very hard at me; I said, “Do you know me?” He said, “Yes, yes, my brother, He put right what you and I have put wrong.” There was now not much pain, but he was rather restless and drowsy. Another time when lifting him up, he said,—

“The best and sweetest, fairest one,

That eyes have seen, or angels known.”

At another time he said,

“The Gospel bears my spirit up,”

but for want of strength he could not repeat more, but looking at his eldest daughter, he said, “Go on, go on.” She continued,—

“A faithful and unchanging God 

Lays the foundation of my hope

In oaths, and promises, and blood.”

“Now,” said he, “Sing hallelujah!” She said “Oh! I can’t, father.” He said, “You are afraid of it; I can sing it”; then he shouted as well as his feeble voice would allow, “Hallelujah! He is my rock, and my refuge and strength.” During the afternoon and evening he became gradually weaker, and slept much longer. I stayed with him from two o’clock till nearly nine in the evening, when I bade him good-bye for the last time. Just before I left him, he said, “Sharp conflict, sure victory; good-bye, my brother, good-bye,” and raising his hand he repeated, “Grace reigns, grace reigns!” These were the last words I heard him speak. He was very drowsy, and four hours after this he became unconscious, in which condition be remained two hours, then his happy spirit ascended on high, to be for ever with the Lord. He had lived on earth seventy-seven years and eight months; and preached the Gospel of the grace of God fifty-four years. He was widely known, and greatly loved by all true lovers of vital godliness, for the manly way in which he ever defended the unadulterated Gospel. Christ all and in all was the theme of his life, and the joy of his death. The enclosed notes are from Mrs. Bedford, one of his married daughters. 

Brixton, April 5th, 1887.


The Last Utterances Of Mr. Stringer, As Related By One Of His Daughters In A Letter To Mr. J. W. Banks

At your request I enclose some of the sweet sentences that were uttered by our dear father during the last few days he passed on earth. He was only eleven days in bed before the summons came. The last sermons he preached were on the first Sunday in December, 1886, at the Surrey Tabernacle, from the words (morning), “A man in whom the Spirit of God is;” and in the evening Romans 15:16, “That I should be the minister,” &c. He was graciously favored by the divine Master he so loved to preach of. Although dreadful paroxysms of agony seized him, yet between them he would repeat, “Hallelujah! Hallalujah! Through the blood of the Lamb!” He said, “Thou has done wonderful things, my sweet Savior! Behold the glories of the Lamb! Sweet Savior, art Thou going to take me in? Holy Lamb of God,

‘Angels beckon me away,

And Jesus bids me come!’

And they shall come; and him that cometh, &c. Precious and adorable Redeemer, take me in, for there I long to be. All certain and sure.” At times the pain was so intense he would cry out, “No, don’t, don’t!” but when it had passed his dear face lit up with a smile not earthly, and he said “My dearest Lord, take an unworthy sinner in. Do take me in, my precious Saviour. Waiting Thy will. Rock of Ages, now, if it be Thy will, let Thy servant depart in peace, according, &c. Call it not dying; ’tis beginning to live. Hope unto the end. Dear Lord, if it is Thy will, do say, ‘Arise, My love, My fair one, and come away. Come!” The evening before his departure he was most impatient to be gone, and told us about midnight that perhaps it was the Lord’s will to let him remain a little longer, but he said, “I am somewhat disappointed; the Lord’s will be done.” On the same evening, seeing us grieving, he said, “Don’t fret, my dears, I am sinking into the arms of my dear Redeemer, and the God of my salvation. He is my Rock, my Defence, my Refuge. There I rest. ‘Happy in eternal things.’ ‘My hope enters within,’ &c. ‘On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand.’ If that perish, I must fail! Bless His name! Grace! grace! All my dear ones, God bless you mercifully and manifestatively.” He then kissed us lovingly, and said “Good-bye” to each one as calmly as if it had been for a little while.

During the last afternoon of his earthly life, mamma said to him, “You are going to heaven, dear.” He turned his dear face towards her and in a distinct and clear voice replied: “I am there; I am viewing the inhabitants! ‘There shall we drink new draughts of bliss,’ &c. ‘See the Savior as He is.’” He asked, “How is my poor Jabez? God bless him; he is safe, and will have an abundant entrance. ‘I will come again, and receive you unto Myself,’ &c. Why does the chariot linger? I leave myself in the hands of my dear wife and the Lord.” His mind seemed overflowing with Scripture. Every moment that he was conscious, he was employed in quoting some passage or a line of a hymn, and he looked to us to finish it for him. “‘Did not our hearts burn within us?’ That glorious Deliverer, that great Conqueror! Good-bye, good-bye, my dear ones; it won’t be long! Lord, light up the valley, and keep the enemy out.” We have reason to believe that he was tempted a little, but only a little, and his faith was strong to the last. He exclaimed quite suddenly—

“His worth if all the nations knew,

Sure the whole earth would love him too,”

And, “unto you that have believed shall the Sun of Righteousness arise with healing in His wings. Hallelujah!” To a friend who called to see him he preached, on a small scale, his last sermon on his dying bed. He quoted Ps. 18:46, “The Lord liveth,” &c., and said, “There take that home with you, and think it over; it will do you good. There is, 1st, the confession; 2nd, the ascription; 3rd, the petition.” His old favourite method of dividing his texts appeared so conspicuous in his exhausted condition. He repeated again and again—

“The Gospel bears my spirits up, 

A faithful,” &c.

“Yes, Thou art precious to my soul, 

My hope enters,” &c.

“Happy the hearts where grace,” &c.

I cannot describe the scene. To see our darling one minute writhing in agony, and the next minute glorifying his Redeemer. Our hearts are full of thankfulness to know that he passed triumphant, through grace, to glory. About 12.45 on Thursday night, he said, “Turn me over, dear.” He had been restless during the afternoon, and asked us to lift him up, which we did repeatedly, Mr. Cornwell assisting us; and dear father knew him and spoke to him. We shall not easily forget his kindness. As soon as we turned him he became unconscious, and the struggle with the last enemy was severe and heartrending to us. At ten minutes to three he heaved three heavy sighs, and we were fatherless. Realise it we cannot. He looked so lovely in death that it seemed impossible that he was gone. We dare not wish him back; but oh, the fearful blank, the vacuum that can never be filled. ’Tis wrong to grieve, but so tenderly loved and cherished was our dear father that great grace is needed to support us under our heavy trial. We are assured that he is now enjoying what his favourite lines of Dr. Watts express, and which were constantly on his lips:—

“There shall I wear a starry crown, 

And triumph in redeeming grace,

Where peace and joy eternal reign,

And glittering robes for conquerors wait.”

Yours in deep sorrow,

Prissy Bradford

17, Grosvenor-street, Camberwell


The Funeral

The funeral took place on Monday, March 28, 1887. Through the great kindness of the deacons of the Surrey Tabernacle, the remains of Thomas Stringer were taken into that sacred edifice, where the first part of the funeral service was conducted, and which enabled many, who could not go so far as the cemetery, to meet there and pay their last tribute of respect to the memory of the man whom they loved, and upon whose lips they had often hung while with clarion notes he rang out the Gospel strains of sovereign grace. Some time before the hour for commencing the service people began to gather, and here and there a few were grouped together, each telling out instances in their life when they were “greatly blessed,” some with “liberty,” “peace,” “built up” and “called,”through his instrumentality; and in the eyes of not a few we observed tears of sorrow. Just at the time appointed, amid the silence which such occasions demand, the stately tread of the horses’ hoofs was distinctly heard in the distance, and presently the hearse was drawn up in the front of the Tabernacle, followed by four mourning coaches and four private broughams. The coffin (inch and half polished oak) was taken into the chapel, and placed on trestles on the platform, followed by Mrs. Stringer, leaning on the arm of her son David; the daughters, and other members of the family, including Mr. William Stringer (nephew), deacon of Lynton-road; Mr. Lynn, Mr. Baldwin, Mr. Holden, Mr. Myerson, Mr. Bonney, Mr. James Lee, Mr. Cornwell, Mr. Samuel Ponsford, Mr. Gray, Mrs. Cornwell, and numerous other friends. The service commenced by Mr. Baldwin (who was formerly deacon to Mr. Stringer at Stepney) reading the first hymn, commencing, “How sweet to see the Christian die!” Mr. John Bonney, of Guildford, read the Scripture, selecting portions from John 11, 1 Corinthians 15, &c. Mr. Henry Myerson offered prayer, followed by an excellent address by Mr. I. C. Johnson, of Gravesend, who said:—

We come not to praise our departed brother, but to bury him. Doubtless, there are many present in this large assembly who knew him intimately and long. I question, however, whether there are many here who enjoyed his friendship longer than he who addresses you. If so, you must go back to a date over fifty years. It is therefore fitting, perhaps, that having been invited by his friends to do so, I should make a few remarks concerning him on this solemn occasion. 

About forty-five years ago, when another and myself were endeavoring to establish a cause of truth in Gravesend, and had managed to get a congregation together for prayer and praise, Mr. Stringer was one of the first ministers to come and preach to us the Gospel of the grace of God. We were in every sense weak—weak in faith, weak in numbers, and financially weak. The departed was to us a tower of strength. He instrumentally gave us courage, so that we were enabled to go on until a house for the worship of God was erected in the town, now known as Soar Chapel, at which place our brother subsequently became the pastor. Many are the living witnesses to the power of his ministry, the Lord having blessed it to the conversion of their souls. His personal appearance was somewhat calculated to command attention. He was tall, broad-chested, with lines of decision in his features. The snows of advanced age which rested upon him of late years added a venerable appearance to his already manly presence. Some persons attach no important to these external matters; and whilst there are, no doubt, exceptions, yet I cannot help thinking that there is an advantage in the possession of these physical qualities. We can think of him as he was, but we shall see his form no more. We mourn, not on his account, out for the loss sustained by the Church, by relatives and friends. 

His voice was unusually powerful; his broad chest and strong lungs enabled him to speak so loudly as to be distinctly heard by the largest congregations. In smaller chapels, when earnestly advocating some special truth, or opposing some deadly error, he could make even the windows shake with his stentorian utterances. 

His theme was Jesus only! It was Christ crucified! Christ risen and exalted! He made the three R’s his starting points—Ruin, complete by the fall; Redemption from sin and all its consequences by the atoning blood of Jesus of every follower of the Lamb; Regeneration of every elect sinner by the power of the Holy Ghost, producing repentance, faith, hope, love and joy, even eternal salvation in the experience of the child of God. 

He preached Jesus in His ability to save to the uttermost; in His ability to make all grace abound toward us; in His ability to keep us from falling, and to present us faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy. Our departed brother might have said with the apostle: “I have fought a good fight; I have finished my course; I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of glory which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day.” He is gone! His race is run! His work on earth is done! He has entered into that rest that remains for the people of God, where there is no sin, consequently no sorrow.

And now, brethren, what does this solemn event teach us who are left behind? Does it not speak to us in tones of solemn warning? The language of the dispensation is, “Be ye therefore ready also.” May it be our privilege to be waiting for the Master’s coming, having our loins girt about with truth, and our lamps burning, so that when it shall be said, “Behold the Bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet Him,” we shall enter as our brother has done into the marriage chamber of the Lamb.

To our respected brother, Death was but the porter to introduce him to the realms of bliss. He was “made meet to be a partaker of the inheritance of the saints in light.” He knew that Jesus was gone to prepare a place for him, and was now come to receive him to Himself, that where Jesus is he should be also. It has been wisely said in this pulpit: “When the ungodly leaves this world he goes from his home; but when the believer leaves it he goes to his home,” which is all the difference. No one objects to be evicted from a cottage of clay if he has a well-appointed house to go to. So no believer really need fear to leave this world of sin, seeing there are mansions awaiting him in the world above.

May we, dear friends, be favoured to follow our brother in the Lord’s own time.

Mr. James Lee then gave out the hymn beginning—

“Happy in the truth of God,

Is the sinner bought with blood.”

Mr. Holden entered the pulpit, and in a few brief sentences observed: Deeply solemn and affecting as the circumstances are which have brought us together to-day, there is a silver lining to the dark cloud. More than 50 years ago the Lord shone upon our dear brother and revealed His Son in him, and he went forth as a valiant minister of the word of God. He was a Boanerges and a Barnabas, a son of thunder and a son of consolation. During the whole of his ministry he gave no uncertain sound, and thousands of souls to all eternity will rejoice in heaven through his ministry. Thirty-seven years ago I first heard him in Snow’s-fields since then I have been united to him in the work of the Lord. He was warm-hearted to those who loved the truth, and we are met here to-day to show our love to him, and sympathy with those who are bereaved of an affectionate husband and loving father. We thank the Lord for raising him up, and for the grace that made him what he was. Mr. Holden pronounced the Benediction, and the funeral procession reformed and wended it way to Norwood, followed by many friends. On reaching the cemetery, about 200 persons were assembled; and when Mr. J. S. Anderson had given out the hymn,—

“May I be found in Jesu’s grace,

And Jesu’s grace in me;

Then shall I dwell before His face,

And all His glory see.”

Mr. Cornwell proceeded to give the address at th grave, in the course of which he remarked that Thomas Stringer was a man whom we all loved, and he loved us. Not long before he departed he said, “What a blessing it is to be read.” He was ready—ready to meet his God before, said Mr. C., I was born. And what was it prepared him for the change, but the grace of God? It can truly be said of him, “His tongue was as the pen of a ready writer.” The Bible was his chief book; go when you would you always found him with the Bible; the Bible was in his heart, and his heart was in the Bible. No man that I know of was more ready with chapter and verse than he. He had a great hatred to anything country to truth, and would express himself in such strong terms as perhaps no other man could; but it was Thomas Stringer. He was always ready to extol his Master, but never ready to countenance any invasion upon the sound principles of the Gospel, or the sacred worship of His sanctuary. Thomas Stringer was ready to die and leave the world, and ready to enter into the joy of his Lord. There is not one here, I am sure, but what will join with me in the conviction that we commit him to this grave in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life. In conclusion, remarked Mr. Cornwell, I would say to the family and friends, “Be ye also ready.”

Mr. J. S. Anderson concluded the service with prayer, very solemnly commending the widow and children to the care of Him who had been a Father and Friend, and had supported and helped through a long life their departed husband and father.

There was a very large congregation both at the Surrey Tabernacle and at the ground, among whom we noticed Messres. Burbridge, Bennett, Noyes, Dearsly, Harsant, Parnell, Ponsford, Waite, Whittaker (Blackheath), Boulden, Green, King, Crowhurst, Rundell, Carr, Lovelock, Haines, (J.) Wheeler, Dawson, Pocock, Knott, (J.) Taylor, Crutcher, and other ministers, deacons, and friends. Mr. J. E. Elsey, one of the officials while Mr. Stringer was at Stepney, and who led the singing there, was unavoidably prevented from manifesting his esteem for his late pastor, but was represented by his devoted partner; many others did likewise. 

The whole of the arrangements were admirably carried out under the direction of the Mr. C. Cornwell, of Brixton, who very kindly took the burden off the widow, and has made himself responsible for the cost, which, through our departed and honored brother being so widely known and highly esteemed, necessitated (in order to give his friends an opportunity of manifesting their esteem to departed worth) a little extra outlay; there was nothing unnecessary, but everything was well done and well timed, and Thomas Stringer was laid in the grace in a manner corresponding with his position as a public man; and as we know Mr. Cornwell is not in a position to bear the expense we shall feel a privilege in contributing our mite towards the funeral of one whom we so highly esteem. The hymns used on the occasion were Mr. Stringer’s own composition, chosen from his hymn-brook. 

John Waters Banks


In Memoriam: Mr. Thomas Stringer

Well done! The faithful work has closed,

As will divine had dated;

The seals thereto—the souls as hire—

And now reward; and his desire,

From earth to heaven translated!

Conflict is over! Victory gained!

Endurance to end winning

The prize; award of grace and love,

And hope’s fruition, in remove,

To endless joys beginning.

The more than conqueror life gains,

He is not dead but sleepeth;

To lay the form in dust is fit,

In certain hope we it commit,

Assured our Lord it keepeth. 

To raise the dead the Lord will come,

In way and power glorious;

Then saints will put their best robes on

And immortality so won, 

Prove Him and His victorious.

J. H. Dearsly


Acrostic—Thomas Stringer

Thrice happy saint! Now taken home,

Home to the bosom of thy God,

On angel’s wings (no more to roam

Midst gloom, beneath affliction’s rod);

As sharer in celestial bliss,

Saluted with thy Father’s kiss.

So would we leave this world of sin,

To fly away and be at rest;

Rest from this life’s tumultuous din,

In tranquil mansions of the blest.

Now Jesus wipes away thy tears,

Gives light, and peace, and joy, and love,

Ennobles thee through endless years,

Robed in His Righteousness above.

J. S. 

Thomas Stringer (1809-1887) was a Strict and Particular Baptist preacher. In 1877, he was appointed pastor of Trinity Chapel, Borough. This came at the tail-end of a long and blessed ministry among the Strict Baptist churches, fifty-four years total.