Chapter 25: The Pastor of Helensburg

Chapter 25.
The Pastor Of Helensburgh The Rev. John Anderson one of the first to predict the Preacher's lasting Popularity-Visits New Park Street Chapel—Graphic Description of the Service—Mr. Spurgeon visits Helensburgh.

Soon after Mr. Spurgeon came to London, a certain Scottish minister, already mentioned, was attracted to New Park Street Chapel, a man who was destined to become a friend and supporter of the most sterling kind of the young Baptist preacher. On one occasion a North British newspaper, published at Greenock, referred to "Mr. Spurgeon's first visit to this district, made at the very onset of his ministerial life as the guest of the late Rev. Mr. Anderson, of Helensburgh. That excellent man and able divine was the first person of any note in the North to take the New Park Street preacher by the hand; and Mr. Spurgeon evinced his gratitude by calling his first residence in London by the name of Helensburgh." This does not appear to be quite correct, however; for as the reader is aware, when Mr. Spurgeon first visited Scotland in July, 1855, his headquarters were at Glasgow; Helensburgh, where his future friend resided as pastor of the Free Church congregation, being twenty-four miles away in a north-westerly direction. The town lies at the mouth of the Gareloch, and is a branch of the Firth of Clyde, being opposite to Greenock, which is about four miles away. Named after Lady Helen Colquhoun, a former proprietor of the land, it is pleasantly situated; while the gardens surrounding the houses impart to it a charm which is wanting in some other places. As a convenient centre for visiting the sites and scenes around Glasgow, Helensburgh is much frequented during the holiday season. It is also such a growing place that the population is probably double what it was in days when Mr. Spurgeon used to be an occasional visitor during his early ministry in London. I am not aware that he actually visited Helensburgh during the time of his first tour in Scotland in 1855, but he may then have first become acquainted with the genial Free Church minister.

Mr. Anderson was thirty years the senior of the London pastor, and he had been settled at Helensburgh as far back as the year 1827, when the now popular holiday resort was a mere village of seven hundred souls. "The charge, indeed, was a small one; but in feeling it his duty to accept it, he was no doubt attracted also by the character of the locality, which, for the scenes of loveliness and splendour that surround it, both seaward and landward, is the finest of the many favourite spots on the noble Firth of Clyde."

Mr. Anderson was so successful in his sphere that a new church was erected in 1853 at a cost of £4,500, and soon afterwards a new manse also was provided. The pastor was no mean scholar, and while he was himself an accomplished writer, his love for the Old Gospel was quite as ardent as that of Mr. Spurgeon. "Nothing pleased Mr. Anderson better than to meet with specimens of fresh, simple, and impressive preaching; such, for instance, as he recognised in Mr. Spurgeon's sermons." Soon after the boy-preacher left Waterbeach Mr. Anderson became acquainted with him, and to his credit, he at once formed a high estimate of his young friend's worth and capacity for usefulness. "Mr. Anderson had the discernment to perceive, while others looked on with doubt and suspicion, the rare and sterling qualities which now stamp that remarkable man, in the judgment of all, as one of the prodigies of the age." Being thus struck with Mr. Spurgeon's superlative gifts, Mr. Anderson sought a closer acquaintance. During a visit to London in the early part of the year 1856 he attended at New Park Street, and it is a great pleasure to be able to give the genial Scotsman's graphic description of the service. "He was satisfied that his splendid voice and effective gesture, his burning zeal and sound doctrine, his affluence of striking illustration, and the Saxon energy of his diction, were all combining to render Mr. Spurgeon the first preacher of the day. And this he had no hesitation in publicly declaring, in face, too, of all the ridicule that was being poured upon the young Baptist minister, on account of the offences against good taste and pulpit decorum that were then laid to his charge. Soon afterwards, Mr. Spurgeon, on Mr. Anderson's invitation, visited Helensburgh, where he repeatedly preached to admiring crowds, and thus was formed an endearing and enduring friendship." As the narrative proceeds, something may be said concerning these services in the proper place; but in the meantime the reader will be glad to have Mr. Anderson's own realistic account of what he saw and heard at New Park Street Chapel on Sunday, March 30, 1856. Before starting for London he had said to his friends, "I have heard of the fame of this young preacher, and I am going to hear him." On his return he related his experience :—

"When Mr. Spurgeon was in Glasgow last summer, the fame of his eloquence had reached me in my seclusion here, by the shores of the sounding sea, the noise of whose waves delight mo more than the 'din of cities' or the tumult of the people. I had heard him 'spoken against' by some, but spoken of by others as a preacher of remarkable and, since the days of Whitefield himself, of unprecedented popularity. But being one of those who judge for themselves in the matter of preaching, and whose opinions as to what constitutes good preaching are somewhat peculiar, I did not attach much—I may almost say any—importance whatever to what I heard of Mr. Spurgeon and his popularity in Glasgow. One of his printed sermons, however, having fallen in my way, I had no sooner read a few paragraphs of it than I said, 'Here, at last, is a preacher to my mind; one whom not only I, but whom Paul himself I am persuaded, were he on earth, would hear, approve, and own.' I forget what was the subject of the discourse; but I remember well saying to myself, 'I would rather have been the author of that sermon than of all the sermons, or volumes of sermons, published in my day.' I had lately before this been reading Guthrie and Caird, but here was something entirely different, and to my mind, in all that constitutes a genuine and good Gospel sermon, infinitely superior.

"For some time after this I heard little, and thought little, about Mr. Spurgeon. Having been, however, in London on the last Sabbath of March, and having been unexpectedly released from an engagement to preach, I thought I could not do better than go and hear for myself the preacher of whom I had heard so much in my own country. Along with two young friends, see me, then, early on the beautiful morning of that beautiful Sabbath day, when as yet there were few people on the streets, and all the 'mighty heart' of that great city was 'lying still,' on my way from Islington to New Park Street Chapel, Southwark, a distance of nearly four miles. We arrived at the chapel about eleven, but found that the service had commenced a quarter before eleven. The church was filled, and there were crowds of people at the gate uncertain what to do. Seeing one of the doorkeepers near the great entrance, I went up to him and said 'that I was from Scotland, and that having come so far I really must get in.' He asked me from what 'part of Scotland I came.' I said, 'Glasgow.' He asked no more, but said, 'Come, follow me; I really must get you in,' or words to that effect. He led the way into a wing of the building, fitted up and evidently used as a school; and here, where there were many assembled, we found seats; and though, from the crowd which choked the doors and passages, we did not see the preacher very well, we—and this was what we wanted—heard him distinctly. When we entered he was expounding, as is his custom, a portion of the Scriptures. The passage expounded was Exodus, fourteenth chapter, which contains an account of the Israelites at the Red Sea—a passage of Scripture peculiarly interesting to me, having stood on its shore and sailed on the very spot where the waters were so wondrously divided. The remarks of the preacher on each of the verses were very much in the style of Henry, and were rich and racy. His text was from the 106th Psalm, and the subject of the discourse was the same with that of the chapter he had just expounded—'The Israelites at the Red Sea.'

"Regarding them as typical of the people of God under the Gospel, he said there were two things which he intended to consider. First, their difficulties; secondly, their resources. Their difficulties, he said, were occasioned by three things—first, the Red Sea before them; second, the Egyptians behind them; and third, the weakness of their faith. These difficulties were in the way, he said, of believers: first, the Red Sea of trials—trials peculiar to them as Christians, and caused by their coming out of Egypt, or their renouncing the world; second, the Egyptians are behind them—sin, Satan, and the world, seeking to recover them to their yoke, and, failing this, to harass and distress them. But the greatest difficulty in the way of both was unbelief. Had they trusted in Him that was for them, they would have made little of all them that were against them.

"Second, their resources. These were three—first, the providence of God. He had brought them to the Red Sea; and He who had brought them to it, was able and wise enough to bring them through it. Second, His covenant, in virtue of which He was under engagement to do so, and was bound in honour to do so. Third, the intercession of Moses. He prayed for them when they knew it not. So Christ prays for His people, and Him the Father heareth always; and in answer to His prayers, delivers, and will continue to deliver, them out of all their troubles, etc.

"Such was the method of one of the richest and ripest sermons, as regards Christian experience, all the more wonderful as being the sermon of so young a man, I ever heard. It was a sermon far in advance of the experience of many of his hearers; and the preacher evidently felt this. But, notwithstanding this, such was the simplicity of his style, the richness and quaintness of his illustrations, his intense earnestness, and the absolute and admirable naturalness of his delivery, it told upon his audience generally, and told powerfully. Many, most of them, were of the 'common people,' and when I looked upon their plebeian faces, their hands brown with labour, and, in many cases, their faded attire, I could not help remembering Him of whom it is said, 'And the common people heard Him gladly.' Yes, Mr. Spurgeon is the minister of the 'common people'; he considers himself, I am told, to be such, and well he may. Happy London people, if they but knew their happiness, to have such a minister! But to return to the sermon, and its effects on the faces! How intensely fixed were they on the preacher—how eager to hear every word he uttered—how fearful lest they should fail to catch the least! Tears were now to be seen trickling down them; and then, again, pale and careworn though many of them were, they might be seen beaming with light and joy, and brightening into smiles. One man I noticed in particular. He was evidently of humble rank, but had a noble and intelligent countenance; his face was a perfect study; every time the preacher said a striking thing, he looked expressively to me and I to him. At the close of the service I could have given him a hearty, brotherly shake of the hand, but I lost him in the crowd, and did not see him again.

"Thus much for the morning. A word or two now about the evening sermon. "We were told that, if we wanted to get in, to come early, as the crowd would be greater than in the morning. With two friends, I returned about six; the service was to commence at half-past six. To our dismay, when we arrived, we found crowds already at the door waiting for admission. Those only who had tickets were now permitted to enter; as we had none, we almost despaired of getting in. One of my friends, however, knowing how I had got in in the morning, went up to a police officer, and told him I was a clergyman from Scotland, and was anxious to be admitted. The police officer, hearing this, said, very politely, he would allow us to enter the church, but would not promise us seats. This was all we wanted. One of us (a lady) was kindly favoured with a seat; my other friend and myself thought ourselves happy, like Eutychus of old, in being permitted to sit 'in a window,' with a dense crowd in the passage at our feet. I asked a man near me if he came regularly; he said he did. 'Why, then,' I asked, 'do you not take a seat?' 'Seat!' he replied; 'such a thing is not to be had for love or money. I got a ticket for leave to stand.' The church, I was told, is seated for 1,500; but what with the schoolroom and the passages, which were choke-full, there could not have been fewer in it than 3,000. The service commenced with a hymn, which was sung by the congregation standing. Never did I hear such singing; it was like the 'voice of many waters,' or the roll of thunder. No need was there of an organ in that congregation; the most powerful organ would not have been heard in the loud swell of so many living human voices. Then came the prayer. Phrenologically speaking, I should say veneration is not largely developed in Mr. Spurgeon; yet that prayer was one of the most remarkable and impressive I ever heard. He prayed first for confirmed believers, then for declining ones, then for sundry other conditions. Then there was a pause; after which he prayed for the unconverted. 'Some,' he said, 'were present who were in this state, who, in all likelihood, would never be in that or any other church again—who were that night to hear their last sermon—who, ere next Lord's day, would not be in this world; and where would they be? There was but one place where they would be—in hell!' He then said, or rather cried out, 'O God, God! must they perish? wilt Thou not save them, and make that sermon the means of their conversion?' The effect was overwhelming; many wept, and I am not ashamed to say I was one of them. The text was in Psa 126:1-2—'When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream. Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing.' The subject raised from the text was the 'joy of the young convert.' This sermon, in some respects, was not equal to the one in the morning; but in other respects, and in particular in its suitableness to a large and promiscuous audience, was superior.

"Some of the sketches, and that in particular of a slave newly emancipated, drunk with joy that he was free, was equal to anything ever drawn by a Dickens, or any of our great masters of fiction. Equally fine was that of the sick man restored to health, and going forth for the first time after his recovery to take his walk in the streets of London. But it would be impossible to mention all the fine touches of nature in that sermon, which made the whole of that vast congregation for the moment 'kin.' His denunciations of the Sabbath-breaker and others were as terrible as his delineations of the penitent were tender and melting. Mr. Spurgeon is equally great in the tender and the terrible. Nor is he without humour. Here many will refuse him their sympathy, and think him censurable. I scarcely think he is. Others will think, and do think, differently. His taste, according to others, is bad. It is, I admit, often so. But, then, think of the immaturity of his years. I was told he was conceited. I saw no proofs of it; and if I had, was I on that account to think less of his sermons? I do not say I will not eat good bread, because the maker of it is conceited. His conceit may be a bad thing for himself—his bread is very good for me. I am far from thinking Mr. Spurgeon perfect. In this respect he is not like Whitefield, who from the first was as perfect an orator as he was at the last. In respect of his power over an audience, and a London one in particular, I should say he is not inferior to Whitefield himself. Mr. Spurgeon is a Calvinist, which few of the dissenting ministers in London now are. He preaches salvation, not of man's free will, but of the Lord's good will, which few in London, it is to be feared, now do. On all these accounts, we hail the appearance of Mr. Spurgeon with no ordinary delight, and anticipate for him a career of no ordinary usefulness. 'Happy are they which stand continually before him, and hear his words of wisdom.' As for myself, I shall long remember with delight the day on which I stood among them, and recommend such of my countrymen as may have a Lord's day to spend in London, to spend it as I did at New Park Street Chapel in hearing Mr. Spurgeon." In the course of this life-story of Mr. Spurgeon, some other things will need to be said about the close friendship which existed between the young preacher of Southwark and the pastor of Helensburgh. In a sense, John Anderson, like Charles Haddon Spurgeon, seemed to be born to preach the Gospel. If the one in childhood was found preaching from a hay-rack, the other, at a corresponding age, showed similar inclinations. "His own desire was to be a minister of the Gospel, and the indications of his early ambition were not to be mistaken," remarks his biographer. "When a mere boy, he was in the habit of preaching. His pulpit was a tree that grew in the vicinity of the school he attended, and his audience a company of schoolmates." He was no mean poet; his reading was wide and varied; and while travelling in warmer climes in search of health, he showed himself to be a keen observer as well as an accomplished writer. Visitors to Helensburgh became familiar with the sight of "the erect and manly form" of the pastor, while "the lustre of the dark eye" told in his favour. In 1841 the first symptoms of the bronchial affection from which he afterwards suffered showed themselves, so that he was more or less of an invalid during the twelve years of his acquaintance with Mr. Spurgeon. The two had much in common; and "Helensburgh House," Nightingale Lane, Clapham, was a name which told of a friend far away in the beautiful North—"my own John Anderson."

There is a working man now in Helensburgh who remembers standing on the pier when Mr. and Mrs. Spurgeon took their departure after their first visit to the manse. Mrs. Spurgeon walked down leaning on Mr. Anderson's arm, while a worthy porter, who was himself a Baptist, carried the bag belonging to the pastor of New Park Street Chapel with no little pride. According to the honest man's own confession, it had afforded him no small satisfaction to do such a service for one whom he characterised as "the greatest preacher of the day." The following was written in a book which the pastor of Helensburgh received from his younger friend in the early days of their acquaintance:—

"To my dear friend John Anderson,

"Whose boundless generosity compels me to add an injunction to all men, women, and children on the face of the earth, that none of them dare to accept this volume of him when he shall offer it, seeing that this is a small token of the undying love of "C. H. Spurgeon.

"February 21, 1859."