Chapter 2: Melbourne Hall, Leicester.
Chapter 2: Melbourne Hall, Leicester.
"I have no answer for myself or thee,
Save that I learned beside my mother's knee:
‘All is of God, that is, and is to be.
And God is good.' Let this suffice us still,
Resting in child-like trust upon His will,
Who moves to His great ends, unthwarted by the ill"
WHITTIER.
FROM THE BEGINNING of my ministry I had desired to reach the large masses of the people that are outside our churches. My favourite Old Testament passage has for years been that which tells how David made the greatest army of his time from the motley crew that gathered around him in the cave; and I have always desired to raise churches and congregations from those who have revolted, not from Christ, but from Christianity, as it is too largely represented to them in the ecclesiastical organizations around us.
This desire was deepened during my pastorate at York, where, as I have said, Messrs. Moody and Sankey, not then so famous, spent about three weeks with me, preaching those sermons and singing those hymns which were destined within a few months to ring through the world. By one means and another, it dawned on me that the majority of non-church-goers become so, not from antagonism to the Gospel, but from dislike to the arrangements which raise barriers to the freedom of their access to our places of worship. The working classes dislike the pew-system, with its class and money distinctions. They do not care to be beholden to the charity of others, especially if these act as though their yearly payment gave them the same kind of exclusive right to a pew that the house-rent does to a house. Many a man has given up attendance at the House of God, because of some slight, intentional or not, received years before. Even where pew-holders are most courteous, and delight to entertain strangers, their very attentions are sometimes embarrassing to the sons of toil.
I had noticed what large crowds gather in public halls and theatres to hear the simple preaching of God's Word; and I often wished that the time might come when I could preach regularly in a building where all the seats were perfectly open and free to all comers, early attendance alone giving a claim to the same position.
On vacating the pulpit of the Victoria Road Church, Leicester, in May, 1878, a number of friends gathered round me and proposed that I should begin preaching to the people in a public hall, the Museum Buildings. Very shortly the place became crowded on Sunday evenings, even to the adjacent room, where people would sit to hear, though they could not see, the speaker. Large numbers also professed conversion, and joined the little church which was formed in order to give us permanence and follow the Scripture precedent. In this church the question of Baptism was left to the conscience of each individual; though the Pastor practised the rite of Immersion, but altogether independently of questions of church order and discipline.
In about a year it was evident that we should require a permanent building; and a few of us began to pray definitely for guidance. Shortly after, I happened to call on an invalid lady, not directly connected with us, who, as I left her room, put into my hand an envelope, and said that it had been for a long time her desire to give the sum enclosed for the erection of a building for my ministry, and that she had been praying for me to call that very day. On opening it, I found a £ 10 note, and it spoke to me as the land-birds to Columbus, after his weary voyage, when they perched upon the rigging of his ship, and told him that he was nearing land. To this other friends added the amounts they felt able to give; but they fell so far short of the lowest sum we should require as to test rather severely my weak faith.
One evening, feeling very perplexed about the future, I resolved to devote some time to very special prayer for guidance; but the answer came before I called, for I noticed that a letter had been put under the front door, written by some anonymous friend, whose style and writing indicated great deficiency in education. The writer expressed an eager desire to see the Lord's house built, and enclosed £1. What followed that night is known only to the Great Master and myself; but I felt that I had heard his voice saying to me, "Come unto Me on the water." For my part I was perfectly willing to obey his invitation, though I could see no earthly chances of success. That was the moment of decision; and though many things happened afterwards to test my faith, I never hesitated from that time in the belief that I was in the line of the Divine purpose.
My friends and I now came to the decision that we would all give as much as we could afford towards the object that we had in hand, and that we should let our needs be known; but that we should take no steps towards making a public canvass for money. I very much question the expediency of collecting money for religious work from those who have no special religious interest; who give because they are pressed to give, or because they do not like to disoblige their friends. We never canvassed for a single penny of all the vast sums we raised for commencing and maintaining the work at Melbourne Hall.
All through the following fortnight the post brought the paper slips, filled in with various amounts, some of them from the very poorest, and all bearing evidence of the efforts and sacrifices that were being made. And it was truly astonishing to find at its close that £1770 had been promised. We were led to select the site on which Melbourne Hall now stands by a very remarkable, but Divinely-guided, foresight on the part of two of our committee; for the neighbourhood, which is now covered with houses, was only beginning to be laid out. And finally, after many preliminaries, on a cold evening in March, 1880, about 300 persons gathered to dedicate the ground to God, preparatory to the builder commencing operations.
While negotiations were proceeding for the completion of the purchase of the land, notices were inserted in the papers, requesting architects to apply for the printed list of specifications as to our needs and requirements. These were numerous and particular. The building was to seat 1200 to 1300 persons. It was not to be too ecclesiastical in style; but to resemble a public hall, that those who were prejudiced against churches and chapels might be attracted. There was to be a large supply of rooms for classes and sectional meetings. Special attention was to be paid to its suitability for seeing and hearing the speaker from all parts. The outside cost was to be £4900. We met daily to pray that some one architect might furnish a design, which, in commending itself to the judgment of all, should be evidently God's design for us. This prayer was answered in the unanimity with which we all selected the designs which are now perpetuated in Melbourne Hall. The memorial stones were laid on July1st 1880, and the opening services held on July 2nd, 1881. But not a step was taken that did not come before our little daily noon prayer-meeting.
What Melbourne Hall was and is to those of us who watched every brick added to its rising structure, words fail to tell. It is quite unique in its appearance. On winter nights, when it is lighted up, it would seem as though some giant, striding across the country, had for a moment set down his huge lantern at the junction of the four roads, from one of which the building derives its name. Many a wayfarer is cheered in the stormy night by its gleaming welcome. Then within, the seats are so arranged that the congregation sits densely before the minister. And as it became the custom for it to be crowded, aisles and all, on Sunday nights, two rows of chairs being placed down each aisle, it was, and is, a very imposing spectacle.
One secret of success lay in the constant use we made of the place. Why should noble piles of building, with their attendant class and reading rooms, which have been erected at such cost for public service, be lit up and used for but one night a week, whilst gin palaces and beer shops glow in their gaudy splendour without one evening's pause? How can we expect to hold our young people, or our reclaimed working men, if we only give them shelter and welcome for two or three hours on Sunday, and leave them to spend all their leisure hours just where they may? Of course it may be answered: "Let them spend their evenings at home"; but you might as well expect a swollen brook to keep its course, without spreading over the low-lying fields. The people will have change and recreation at night; and if they cannot get them under the shelter of the Church, many will seek it where they should not. I rejoice that this is increasingly appreciated, and that Board Schools are being utilized for the well-being of the neighbourhoods in which they are situated. Our ad vice to all Christian workers is-" Do not spare your coals, and do not study your gas bills." Every shilling spent in firing and lighting comes back a thousand-fold in moral and spiritual good. The way to, save your young people from inane and injurious, entertainments is to secure their co-operation in providing wholesome and spiritual meetings for those who otherwise might drift into questionable surroundings: Mission or Gospel Services; Blue-Ribbon meetings; Saturday evening social gatherings for the tempted and reclaimed; Ambulance Classes; Christian Endeavour meetings, and many other agencies of a similar character, which combine the maximum of benefit with the minimum of peril.
It was with bitter pain and regret that I tore myself away from Melbourne Hall, and it will always live deep down in my heart; but I rejoice to know that it flourishes still, under the pastoral care of my beloved friend, Rev. W. Y. Fullerton, who has succeeded Rev. C. B. Sawday, now of Leeds.
"Peace be within thy walls, and prosperity within thy palaces. For my brethren and companions' sakes, I will now say, Peace be within thee.'