Pilgrimage of Joy …

LOVE FEASTS IN ENGLAND AND IRELAND
by W. Carl Ketcherside

The largest audience to which I spoke in Scotland was at Tranent. I first arrived there on Thursday, March 20, two days prior to their annual social which had been postponed a month to enable me to be present. I stayed in the home of Brother and Sister Wilson and it was extremely interesting because they could not understand my American dialect and I could not fathom their Scotch brogue. Had it not been for their daughter Jean, who translated for us, we would have been in a real predicament. But there was one thing I understood and that was the oat cakes made by Sister Wilson. I translated them myself. An excellent audience was present for the gospel meeting the first night, and the following night the greatest number of non-members to be seen in many years attended. It was apparent that the social might set a new record.

Brother Wilson spent the entire day making arrangements for the meat pies and other foods essential to serving those who came. Although everything was strictly rationed the government allowed special concessions to churches upon application. The social was held in the Town Hall auditorium on Saturday evening. Visitors were present from most of the places where I had spoken. There were 242 for tea. Afterwards Willie Steele presided and the Motherwell and Blackridge choruses rendered special numbers. Albert Winstanley spoke for fifteen minutes and I followed for an hour. I bade farewell to many precious brothers and sisters whom I would never see again on earth.

The following morning I spoke at the Lord’s Day gathering, and again in the afternoon to about 80 boys and girls. The house was almost full at night for the gospel meeting and my final message in Scotland. The next day Albert accompanied us on the seven-hour train trip to Ulverston, in Lancashire, and our first meeting with Walter Crosthwaite. The congregations which combined to support him rented “Ford Villa,” the home where our aged brother and his good wife lived, and where the little band of saints met. What a blessing it was to us to stay with the Crosthwaites.

No other one person I have met in my life has impressed me any more than this man. When the tide of compromise, augmented by American influence and money, began to sweep across the congregations in Great Britain many decades ago, he stood like a rock of Gibraltar. As a result his name became revered by some and despised by others. He was as unmoved by the praise of his friends as by the attack of his enemies. Now that he had grown older and was unable to travel as before, it was decided to take advantage of his scriptural knowledge, historical ability and great experience. Young men of promise were sent to live with him for many months during which they sat at his feet for training. Many of those who are active in Great Britain today can look back upon their association with this patriarch with deep appreciation for his help.

We spent hours together exploring our concepts and talking about the problems which had always troubled us as a people. The clergy system, open communion, methods of evangelism—all of these and many other things came under review. Brother Crosthwaite came to love and cherish Nell as one of his own children. One of our treasured letters from Great Britain after we arrived home came from him and mentioned “dear Nell” with special warmth. I spoke every night while in Ulverston in the little tri-cornered room which seated 34 people. It was full every night with 18 non-members present the first night. One brother who came to share with us was Levi Clark from Barrow-in Furness. We wrote to each other for years until his death ended our correspondence. I loved and admired him very sincerely.

Our time was not all occupied by meetings. One day we visited the famous English Lake Region. We went to the home of John Ruskin on Coniston Lake. We spent an hour at Bowness and the village church where George Washington’s relatives worshiped three generations before his birth. Another day we went to the Quaker meetinghouse built by George Fox in 1688 after he had been imprisoned so many times for open expression of his opposition to war, slavery, and political and religious authority. Upstairs, over the simple meeting room we found the plain bed and chair used by the persecuted crusader. The large Bible which he studied was upon the desk.

Nell and I had a lump in our throats as we said good-bye to Brother Crosthwaite and Sisters Wood and Ormandy at the Ulverston Railway station. I boarded the train for the Wigan District with a distinct feeling that one of the significant periods in my life had suddenly ended. At Wigan we were met by three outstanding men — Leonard Morgan, of Hindley; Carlton Melling, of Scholes; and Leonard Channing, then of London. Leonard Morgan was an owner of several shops and an elder at Hindley. We were scheduled to stay in his lovely home which was also graced by his wife, Doris, and little son John. Carlton Melling was an elder at Scholes, and employed in the public library at Wigan. He succeeded Bro. Crosthwaite as editor of Scripture Standard, the paper published by our British brethren. It is currently under the efficient editorship of James Gardiner, of Haddington, East Lothian, Scotland. Len Channing resided in London, but was engaged in a gospel mission at Scholes. He was capable, active and alert, and already several had been added to the Lord through his personal efforts at Scholes.

It had been arranged that I should meet the first night with the elders and deacons at Hindley. They were a fine group of brethren and they questioned me at length about my views of what was transpiring on “the American scene.” I did not realize until later that this was one of the places to which John Allen Hudson had written warning the brethren against receiving me. Our visit turned out to be a glorious one. After seeing me, the brethren concluded they could probably handle any wild ideas I might advance, and after meeting Nell they realized that if my judgment about other things was half as good as it was in selecting a wife, England needed me. The Hindley congregation had produced three outstanding evangelists — Albert Winstanley, Frank Worgan and Tom Kemp. It was a blessing to me to be associated with them.

My first meeting in the district was at Scholes, with Leonard Channing presiding. At the close of the service two expressed their decision to obey Christ and Carlton Melling announced the fact with well-chosen words. The meeting on Sunday at Hindley was not hindered by the cold coupled with mist and rain. Leonard Morgan presided capably. The order consisted of a hymn, a prayer and another hymn. One brother then arose and read from the old covenant scriptures, and another followed with a new covenant scripture reading. The “prayers of the church” were called for and three brethren prayed in turn. Following another hymn the brethren contributed of their means. The president made an appropriate talk about the meaning of the Lord’s Supper, and thanks were given for the bread and cup, and they were offered to the disciples. I was then invited to exhort the saints which I did briefly. There was no invitation given to aliens. This was a family gathering for the children of God, and not a gospel meeting. British brethren knew the difference.

At luncheon in the Morgan home we met Bro. Harold Baines from Morley, in Yorkshire, who informed us that all was in readiness for our visit to that area and promised that we would be treated to the famous “Yorkshire pudding.” At 2:00 p.m. we were back at the meetinghouse. Bro. Stephen Winstanley called the youngsters together, and after several choruses, dispatched them to their classes. I spoke to a room filled with older children and their teachers. At 6:00 o’clock I addressed an excellent audience present for the gospel meeting, and at 8:00 o’clock the house was filled for the second gospel meeting. Every seat was taken.

On successive evenings I addressed goodly crowds at Albert Street church in Wigan, at Blackburn and again at Scholes. One evening we held an open air meeting in the public marketplace. Wigan is the oldest borough in Lancashire, having been charted by Henry III in 1246. A hundred years before the American Declaration of Independence was signed the city was known all over the world for its manufacture of bells and pewter.

On Thursday night the brethren in Hindley held a Farewell Rally, attended by representatives from all of the other district congregations. It was evident the Hindley congregation possessed great potential for sparking the work throughout the British Isles. The elders were men of vision, the members of the body seemed consecrated, and the future appeared bright.

If I may digress a wee bit, let me inform you that Wigan was the original home of Miles Standish. He was a resident of Duxberry, Wigan, and named his New England estate after it. It is now well-known as Duxbury, Massachusetts. His wife Rose was the first to become ill on the fateful trip on the Mayflower, and the first to die. She lies sleeping in Burying Hill, at Plymouth Rock. His subsequent infatuation for Priscilla Mullens, who married John Alden, has very little historical basis.

On Friday we flew from Ringway Airport in Manchester, to Belfast, to attend the annual conference of British congregations. Our arrival by the air terminal bus in Donegal Square was greeted by three marvelous people — Mary Hendren, Pearl Hunter and Bobby Hendren. Since we were to stay in the lovely home of Sammy and Pearl Hunter, we took the tram up Ballygomartin Road, and walked up Glencairn Crescent to the house. The streets were lined with emergency bomb shelters, now being used as playgrounds by boys and girls. After tea we again walked through a lovely park to Shankill Road and then up Berlin Street to the meetinghouse, a former school building purchased and remodeled by the brethren.

William Hendren presided over the welcome rally and, in characteristic Ulster fashion claimed that virtually all great men came from North Ireland, including 19 presidents of the United States, as well as Alexander Campbell and Saint Patrick. Speeches were made by George Hudson from Birmingham, England, and Andrew Gardiner from Glasgow, Scotland. I was also invited to speak as a representative of a former British colony which became upset over tax on tea.

On Saturday the conference business was transacted, and reports given, with Joe Hamilton presiding. In the evening William Hendren and I spoke. I was tremendously impressed with his knowledge and ability. The Lord’s Day meeting began at 11:30 a.m., and made use of the talents of four English brethren — Robert McDonald, Dewsbury; George Hudson, Birmingham; Fred Hardy, Morley; and Stephen Winstanley, Hindley. George Hendren from Belfast also participated and I gave the exhortation. At the Children’s Meeting at 2:30 p.m., Joe Hamilton introduced Stephen Winstanley and myself to speak after encouraging the “lads and lassies” to pay attention.

We adjourned for tea in the home of Granny Hendren, on Brussells Street, just around the corner, and at 6:00 o’clock were all back at the meetinghouse to start the open air meetings. Eighty people marched down the street singing, “Come Ye That Love the Lord!” Stops were made at four intersections with additional songs and an announcement of the meeting to follow. The final open air presentation was directly in front of the meetinghouse. Later, as I arose to speak, the forms (benches) were filled to capacity and people were standing about the walls.

On Monday Nell and I visited the memorial to the Titanic which sank on her maiden voyage in 1912 with a loss of 832 passengers and 680 crewmen. We also went to the monument dedicated personally by General Dwight D. Eisenhower to celebrate the landing of American troops in the war so recently ended. After tea in the home of George and Rachel Hendren, I met with the oversight of the congregation consisting of Joe Hamilton, George Millar, William, Charles and George Hendren. They asked my permission for them to write the brethren in America to send me back to Belfast to help in the evangelizing of Northern Ireland. I little realized then what a change would take place in my life and thought upon my return. We held two open air meetings before the evening service and again the building was full.

The following day a chartered bus took all of the visitors for a tour of Northern Ireland, including the Giant’s Causeway. We returned by way of Carrickfergus and the old castle where William of Orange landed and started the drive which made Northern Ireland a Protestant country by the decisive Battle of the Boyne, July 12, 1690. Our tour was on Junior Orangemen’s Day which created enough excitement with its massive parade that the gospel meeting was not quite so well attended. It is hard to compete with the Orange Society in North Ireland.

On Wednesday night before the gospel meeting, Bro. Millar presented me with a well-preserved copy of the Millennial Harbinger. Thursday evening the meetinghouse was again crowded out. Seven had already obeyed the gospel during our stay and enthusiasm was great. After the regular service a farewell meeting was held, which began with the serving of tea and scones. Joe Hamilton presided. Rachel Hendren was called upon to make a speech of appreciation and ended by presenting Nell with a lovely hand-embroidered Irish linen tablecloth. Bobby Hendren presented each of us a gift and then the chorus stood and sang, “Will Ye No Come Back Again?” We felt a bit flattered for this was the song the Capetown Africans sang to the king and queen as their ship sailed away from the harbor.

All of us were in tears as the meeting ended. Young and old were sobbing as if their hearts would break. We clung to each other reluctant to accept the fact that we had to part. It was long after midnight when we said goodnight to the Hunter family and went to our bed, but we arose early next morning for breakfast, and when we arrived at the airport bus station in Donegal Square we found a company of saints awaiting us. I could name everyone of them, but I must limit myself to a special tribute to Mary Hendren who, for thirty years, has faithfully written to us and kept us informed by letters, newspapers and books, of the changing fortunes of the saints in these troublous times.

When we arrived back at Ringway Air Terminal in Manchester, we soon transferred to the rail station to board the train for Morley, near the great industrial city of Leeds, in Yorkshire. The train trip through the hills was beautiful. Gray stone fences centuries old climbed up the steeps. Patches of snow lingered in the upper valleys. Rushing streams tumbled under old stone bridges. The train went through a long tunnel and emerged at Morley.