

Transcribed from the 1855 John Colbran edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org





                           “THE BLESSED HOPE.”


                                * * * * *

                                 A SERMON

                            ON OCCASION OF THE

                    DEATH OF MRS. FRANCIS CUNNINGHAM.

                                * * * * *

                                  BY THE
                           REV. E. HOARE, M.A.,
            _Incumbent of Trinity Church_, _Tunbridge Wells_.

                                * * * * *

                             Tunbridge Wells:
              PRINTED BY JOHN COLBRAN, LIBRARY, HIGH STREET.

                                  1855.

The substance of the following Sermon was preached at St. Peter’s,
LOWESTOFT, on Sunday, the 19th of August, 1855, after the death and
funeral of MRS. FRANCIS CUNNINGHAM, the beloved wife of the beloved Vicar
of the Parish.

With great animation of spirit, and remarkable energy of natural
character; with an unwearied watchfulness over the young, and a no less
laborious care for their parents; with a fervent missionary spirit, only
equalled by her zeal in the work at home; with real natural eloquence,
and an admirable tact in her intercourse with all kinds of character;
with a tender sympathy for the afflicted, and a most friendly kindness to
all who needed friendship; and above all, with an unceasing spirit of
believing prayer, she laboured for forty years in the parishes of
Pakefield, Kirkly, and Lowestoft, in the happy service of the Saviour
whom she loved; till at length after meekly receiving at her Lord’s hand
the gradual decay of voice and strength, she peacefully fell asleep in
Him on August the 12th, 1855.

“The path of the just is as a shining light, which shineth more and more
unto the perfect day.”

                                * * * * *

                        1 THESSALONIANS, 4. xiii.

    “_But I would not have you to be ignorant brethren_, _concerning them
    which are asleep_, _that ye sorrow not_, _even as others which have
    no hope_.”

                                * * * * *

This world is full of sorrow, for the simple reason that it is full of
sin, and wherever sin is, separation and sorrow are certain, sooner or
later, to follow in its train.  So have they followed at this present
time, for the event that has brought us together is a separation that has
called forth a general sorrow throughout the place.  It has not been
merely respect that has led to so kind and almost universal an exhibition
of feeling throughout your town, for respect is, after all, but a cold
thing, and there has been nothing cold on this occasion.  There has been
a deep and tender sympathy, the mournful sense of real bereavement in
very many affectionate hearts.

Now let us none suppose that real, true, heartfelt, and sympathizing
sorrow is inconsistent with the christian character, for if such a
thought could be for a moment entertained, it would be removed at once by
the one simple statement, “Jesus wept.”  The tears of true sorrow,
therefore, are in perfect harmony with the character of Christ.  Sorrow
is not eradicated by the Gospel, but has its character changed by it.
The Holy Spirit does not harden the heart against grief, but comforts the
mourner in the midst of it.  The deep waters are not frozen, so that the
child of God can coldly walk across dry footed; but they retain their
character, and are deep waters still; and the believer is held up in
passing through them, so that, though deep, they cannot overflow him.
The effect is much the same as that of the coloured glass upon the light;
the light shines still, but a new hue is given to it.  Just so is it with
sorrow.  Like the light it remains within the soul, and is not
extinguished by the power of grace; but like the light passing through
the coloured glass, it acquires a new colouring, and is beautifully
softened by the sacred hope presented to us in Christ Jesus.  Thus the
passage does not simply say “that ye sorrow not,” for if it did, it would
imply that grief was sinful, but it says “that ye sorrow not even as
others that have no hope,” so teaching us that through still felt, sorrow
may be softened within the heart.

The passage also teaches what is the principle by which this change is to
be effected, viz: hope; for when there is no hope, there is nothing left
but the sorrow of the world.  I feel therefore that I cannot select a
safer subject for our careful study on this solemn day.  The Spirit
indeed appears especially to have stamped it with his own authority as
peculiarly suitable for such a season, for He has said in v. 18,
“Wherefore comfort one another with these words.”  May He grant then his
own blessing on the words which shall be now spoken!  May He raise our
thoughts to things above!  May he teach us to realize the blessed hope!
And may He so make use of the present sorrow as to prepare our souls for
a tearless re-union before the throne of Jesus!

I.  The first thing to be noticed in the passage, is the light which it
incidentally throws on the _present state of departed believers_.

The prominent point of hope presented to our view is very clearly the
glorious coming of our blessed Lord, with the accompanying resurrection
and reunion of his saints.  But the present position of the soul is three
times incidentally mentioned, and each of these times is described under
the beautiful figure of sleep.  Twice are our dear brethren described as
those “which are asleep,” and once as those “which sleep in Jesus.”

What then are we to understand by this expression?  Are we to regard it
as proving their present state to be one of unconsciousness or stupor?
God forbid! for then how could such a spirit as hers that has now left
us, say, “To me to live is Christ, to die is gain.”  She could truly say
during her life time, “I delight to do thy will O Lord,” and it could be
no gain to such an one to sink down into stupor and inactivity.

But still they are said to sleep in Christ, and the beautiful suitability
of the expression may be seen from two points of view.

In the first place, death is the separation of the immortal spirit from
the mortal body, and the body alone now lies sleeping in the grave.  When
we assembled around that opened grave on Friday, it was to leave there
the body.  We committed her body to the grave, “earth to earth, dust to
dust, ashes to ashes.”

And this body may be justly said to sleep.  It sleeps, for it is without
feeling.  There is no pain or languor now, no advancing illness, or
exhaustion from decaying strength.  This is all over now, and the poor
body sleeps in Jesus.

Then again it is a sleep, for the time of labour has now passed.  That
beautiful and cheerful activity which for twenty-five years has been such
a blessing and example to this place, is now over.  The night is come
when she cannot work, and let us who remain learn the lesson that while
the day lasts, we must be, like her, most vigorously employed for God.

And lastly it is a sleep, for it is not permanent, but only for a time.
The night is