THE TURNING POINT.
“Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on;
The night is dark, and I am far from home—
Lead Thou me on.
“I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou
Should'st lead me on;
I loved to choose and see my path, but now,
Lead Thou me on.
"OH, my brethren, the power of the Lord has often been revealed to us in this place. To many of our souls it has been the very gate of heaven. How many of us have found salvation Thou alone, O God, canst tell. The old order is changing. Let the new, O Father, be equally powerful in the bringing of many to the Savior." It was a pathetic service. The servant of God, growing old, looked with sorrow upon the last place of his earthly ministry. That was his farewell to the place he loved so much; the spot from which he had so faithfully, so earnestly preached to the assembled people the unsearchable riches of Christ. Before another Sunday dawned the new regime was in force. The Prayer Book succeeded the extempore prayer which came with all its simple ruggedness from the pastor's heart. Oh, how he prayed! he prayed as only a man can pray when his soul is filled.
Mr. Hart had for a long time held the pastorate of Mr. Hannington's chapel at Hurstpierpoint. But a great change came. Mr. Hannington had leanings towards the Church of England, and took steps to have the chapel licensed by a Bishop of the diocese. It is not necessary to analyze the reasons which led up to this change. Suffice it to say that it was brought about with that gentle tact and kindly thought which always characterize the conduct of a true child of God.
Old Mr. Hart and his wife were amply provided for until the end of their pilgrimage by Mr. Hannington Mt. Hart preached his farewell sermon on Sunday, 26th October, 1867. James Hannington was a member of that congregation.
A new power was quietly working within the young man's heart. Ere long it was to manifest itself in beauty and strength. A good deal, but not all, of his capriciousness was left in the background. He was beginning to see something of the real dignity of living a life of self-sacrifice-a life of devotion to the cause of Christ.
James was brought into very close contact with the gentleman who became curate-in-charge of the church at Hurstpierpoint. The idea of devoting himself to the church grew upon him. The new arrangement commenced on the 14th December, 1867. For three or four months serious questions were uppermost in his mind. He saw the hollowness of the life he lived. He stretched out in the hope of grasping at something nobler—something that might lift him above doubt and despondency, and might make him of real use to those around him.
God's finger was leading him, slowly, perhaps, but very surely. On the 5th July, for the first time, he partook of the Lord's Supper. Before partaking in this solemn service, he had deep, and in many respects, painful heart searching. He analyzed his thoughts and desires with almost merciless severity. He was flagrantly honest before men, and he desired to be so before God. Even after he had partaken of the Communion he was far from being satisfied. The devil still wrestled with him. The combat was long and severe, how long, how severe, no one will ever be able to fully determine. For a long time he was harassed with doubt, and often on the point of giving up in despair. Even whilst this battle was going on he took some part in the work of the Church. He developed a characteristic which was a marked feature of his too brief ministry. He took a very warm interest in the young men of the parish in their aspirations, their toils, and their amusements. He was fervent in prayer, and on his knees wrestled with God for full victory over the doubts that perplexed him.
The autumn of 1868 saw James Hannington enter upon his university career at St. Mary's Hall, Oxford. It was not a brilliant career. He never had a keen relish for the orthodox studies which form a clergy man's mental equipment. There was, too, in his fellow collegians an infection which did not tend to advance him either in his intellectual or spiritual life. He was far from being an industrious student, although in a few "pet" subjects he earned much more than an ordinary degree of efficiency—such subjects as botany (which had been a favorite since childhood), chemistry, natural history, science, and medicine, the latter of which was exceedingly useful to him during his peaceful days as a village curate, and later on, during his history-making months in Africa.
For the usual study of classics he cared nothing. His university period was all too prolonged. At times there was a serious danger of relapsing into the old dull indifference; at other times he was tempted to turn back; at other times his energy and ambition were concentrated on sport. So unsatisfactory were those days at the university that, after a residence of about twelve months, the principal suggested that he should secure a private tutor, and retire into the quiet country where he could complete his studies away from the allurements which are so closely associated with life in a large and more or less fashionable college.
This suggestion was adopted, and soon afterward James Hannington, the man whose faith was afterward strong enough to face the terrors of the Dark Continent, went down to Martinhoe, a quaint village in Devonshire, where he placed himself under the direction of the rector, the Rev. C. Scriven. His geniality, his wholeheartedness, his fearlessness, soon made a vivid and favorable impression upon the simple, honest community. There he indulged his liking for the study of medicine, and frequently exercised his skill with beneficial effect. Moreover, he found constant delight and recreation on the hills and seashore.
Once or twice he returned to Oxford for his examinations. Misfortune dogged his steps. An unusual degree of nervous anxiety prevented him from securing success. At last he suggested to Mr. Striven (with whom he was a great favorite), that he should act as his curate, without stipend, and in the meantime he could study for his degree. The Bishop, however, refused to consent to this course.
It was during his residence at Martinhoe that his mother, whom he often alluded to as "the gentlest mother, the sweetest, dearest mother that ever lived," passed away, after a long illness which was borne with truly Christian resignation. She died on the 26th of February, 1872. Her death was a terrible blow to James. It brought a solemnizing influence into his life. Her beautiful life, her trustful death, were like a beacon light to her son. He was oftener found upon his knees, endeavoring to draw nearer to the God who had sustained his mother through her grievous affliction.
On the 12th of June, 1873, he took his B.A. degree. On 1st March, 1874, he was ordained by the Bishop; on the succeeding Sunday he preached his first sermon. It was in his father's church at Hurstpierpoint. He was not satisfied with his efforts. He described the sermon as "feeble-in fact not quite sound," and tore up the manuscript. Then he went down to Trentishoe to commence his duties as curate of Martinhoe and Trentishoe. He was not yet safe out of the slough of despond. He was still harassed by doubt, but God was leading him into a brighter light and a fuller freedom. It was at this point that a correspondence, commenced by a dear friend of his college days over a year before, was blessed to his soul. With prayer and supplication on his lips and in his heart he burst into the full liberty of the children of God. Then followed a full and complete surrender, a perfect dedication to the service of God.