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William Haslam

Morwenstow

My ordination gave me an ecclesiastical position in the parish, the law maintained me in it, and the people expected me to do the duties of it. But how to carry all this out, except in a dry and formal way, I did not know.
I had to baptise the children, marry the young, visit the sick and bury the dead. I had carried a kind of dreamland parish in my head, with daily service, beautiful music and an assembly of worshipping people. Instead of this I found a small, unsympathizing congregation who merely looked upon these sacred things as duties to be done, and upon me as the proper person to do them. When I went to visit the sick I had nothing to say to them. I read a few Collects, and sometimes gave them a little monetary relief for which they thanked me, but I came out dissatisfied with myself. I longed for something more, though I did not know what.

Immediately it spread all over the parish that, “the Parson’s servant is converted!” The news soon reached me, but instead of giving joy it brought the most bitter disappointment and sorrow to my heart. I felt hurt to think that after all I had taught him against schism he should fall into so great an error. However, he sent for me again and again, till at last his entreaties prevailed and I went. Instead of lying on his bed, a dying man as I expected to find him, he was walking about the room in a most joyful and ecstatic state.

I do not remember all I said, but I felt a wonderful light and joy coming into my soul, and I was beginning to see what the Pharisees did not. Whether it was something in my words, or my manner or my look, I know not; but all of a sudden a local preacher who happened to be in the congregation stood up, and putting up his arms shouted out in Cornish manner, “The Parson is converted! The Parson is converted! Hallelujah!”

The heat in the place was stifling beyond all description, for besides being densely crowded below and above, the wooden shutters were closed because of the wind and rain. The people’s wet clothes were steaming, and there was a strong smell of stale fish. At first we felt as if it would be impossible to bear it, but after a little time we had other things to think about.

I gave out a hymn, and after a short prayer commenced the address, speaking as loud as I could so that all the congregation might hear me. During the sermon the responses were most vociferous and hearty, and the attention very encouraging. After speaking for about thirty minutes I observed a tall, fine-looking fisherman in large high boots, who had come in late. He was standing in the little space before the table on which were placed two candles and a glass of water.

I saw as the address went on that though he was very quiet, his breast was heaving with emotion as if something was passing in his mind. All at once, without a moment’s notice, he fell on the ground and bellowed out a loud prayer for, “God’s mercy! I want God’s mercy!”

Besides upsetting the table – candles, water, and all – which went down with a great crash, he fell on one or two women who screamed in their fright and consternation, as only women can.

I asked another man, “What was finished on the cross?” Not receiving any answer I went on to say, “Our salvation was finished there. That being so, there is no need for you to be ‘doing’ in order to obtain salvation. The religion of four letters is better than that of two. That is to say, the religion which rests on what Christ has done is better than that which depends on what you can do.”

Excerpts from Haslam’s Journey