John Kershaw (1792-1870) was pastor for fifty-two years of Hope Chapel, Rochdale. He exercised a powerful ministry among his flock, and became an influential preacher across the country. Few ministers remain faithful to a single congregation for an extended period\u2014Kershaw committed himself to the same church he attended as a boy. His autobiography, \u201cMemorials of the Mercies of a Covenant God while Traveling through the Wilderness\u201d, is one of the best written of its genre. The following excerpt from this book (third edition) is selected in order to highlight the joy of those that sat under his ministry.<\/p>\n
Lines to the Memory of Mr. Kershaw, Fifty-Two Years Pastor of the Church at Hope Chapel, Rochdale, Who Died on the 11th January, 1870, in the 78th Year of His Age.<\/p>\n
\u201cA Sinner Saved By Grace\u201d<\/p>\n
Robe in black weeds, ye Rochdale saints,
\nPour out your wail in sore complaints;
\nLet sorrow trickle from your eyes,
\nAnd ease your hearts in sobs and sighs.
\nYour comforter, your joy is fled!
\nYour Pastor s gone,\u2014JOHN KERSHAW\u2019S dead.<\/p>\n
Full many heav\u2019nly blasts he blew,
\nWith Gospel trumpet, sound and true;
\nAnd many hearts made glad, through grace,
\nWhile sobs and tears besmear\u2019d each face.
\nBut now, alas! the times are sad;
\nHis work is done,\u2014JOHN KERSHAW\u2019S dead.<\/p>\n
How oft he sobb\u2019d and sigh\u2019d in turn,
\nWhile seeking, on a Lord\u2019s day morn,
\nFor food to feed the weary saints,
\nFor well he knew their sore complaints.
\nBut, now, from anxious cares he\u2019s freed;
\nHis soul\u2019s at rest,\u2014JOHN KERSHAW\u2019S dead.<\/p>\n
While handling those memorials dear,
\nThose symbols rich, the saints to cheer,
\nThe Bread, the Wine, that feast of grace,
\nHow love has shone on his dear face;
\nBut now to brighter worlds he\u2019s sped,
\nAnd left us here;\u2014JOHN KERSHAW\u2019S dead.<\/p>\n
When sin besmear\u2019d the church\u2019s pride,
\nHow John his honest face would hide,
\nAnd sigh, and mourn a brother\u2019s fall,
\nAnd pray for one who grieved them all;
\nSeek to restore, and grace would plead,
\nAnd weep, and love; but now HE\u2019S dead.<\/p>\n
How fond to hear the stamm\u2019rer\u2019s tongue,
\nIn infant, aged, feeble, strong.
\nIf John saw roots, the case was his;
\nHe knew that sighs would turn to praise.
\nHe sought to feed with living Bread,
\nBut now it\u2019s past;\u2014JOHN KERSHAW\u2019S dead.<\/p>\n
A hearty friend to God\u2019s own poor;
\nWould carry bread from door to door.
\nWas cheerful in affliction s cell;
\nSoothing the sick, sweet truths would tell.
\nHis kindly visits now are fled,
\nAlas! He\u2019s gone;\u2014JOHN KERSHAW\u2019S dead.<\/p>\n
If John a favour would obtain,
\nThe church\u2019s voice he soon could gain
\nBy signs and look, which well they knew,
\nHis logic powerful, strong, and true.
\n\u201cCome, my dear friends,\u201d then stroke his head;
\nThe case was won;\u2014but now HE\u2019S dead.<\/p>\n
In days of health how pleased he stood
\nBefore the saints, in cheerful mood;
\nDeclaring how the Lamb was slain,
\nTill pews and gall\u2019ries rang again.
\nWhile holy raptures raised that head
\nThat\u2019s now laid low. Ah, me! HE\u2019S dead.<\/p>\n
When wading deep in Gospel tides,
\nHis hands he\u2019d prop against his sides;
\nAnd when his faith reach\u2019d o\u2019er the ford,
\nHow dust would fly from Bible board.
\nElated saint! The truth he spread
\nBoth far and near; but now HE\u2019S dead.<\/p>\n
Full many quaint good tales he told
\nOf things well cast in Gospel mould;
\nWhile peace sat brooding on his face,
\nAnd heart right full of mirth and grace.
\nAnd many a trickling tear he shed
\nO\u2019re subjects sweet;\u2014but now HE\u2019S dead.<\/p>\n
Dead! Yes, but still he lives to God,
\nBought with atoning, precious blood,
\nAnd, mingling with the ransom\u2019d choir,
\nEach vying note still rising higher.
\nThat state eternal pleasure gives;
\nThere our late friend, JOHN KERSHAW, lives.<\/p>\n