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 A SERMON 
 
 PREACHED IN DURHAM CATHEDRAL 
 
 ON 
 
 SUNDAY, DECEMBER 10, 1882, 
 BEING THE SUNDAY AFTER THE DEATH OF THE 
 
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 AKCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY, 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM CHARLES LAKE, D.D., 
 
 DEAN OF DURHAM. 
 
 ANDREWS AND CO., DURHAM. 
 
 
 • •
 
 II. Samuel, hi., 38. 
 
 ''Know ye not that there is a prince and a great 
 
 man fallen this day in Israeli 
 
 I believe that if we were asked what, in a moral 
 and religious sense, is the highest of all characters, 
 we should not be wrong in answering — one of 
 thorough reality, one which is always desirous of 
 looking at things as they truly are, not distorted 
 by the side lights of passion, of fancy, or even of 
 feeling, and of acting accordingly. Such, in the 
 first place, I venture to say, is the character of the 
 Divine Book, and even of the Divine Being, in 
 whom God has revealed Himself to man. If we 
 look at the Book, we find that one of its most 
 marked features is that it is real, in being entirely 
 true to human nature, or, to use a common 
 expression, that it "finds" us everywhere ; and, if 
 we look to our Divine example, we find the phrase 
 "very man," in its fullest sense, applicable to Him ; 
 we find in Him an absolute simplicity, an absolute 
 calmness and reality, a rejection of all high flights 
 of feeling or of passion, which separate Him from 
 almost all the great heroes of the world, whether 
 in genius or in action. This, then, is the law of 
 Scripture; and this, as I believe, is the highest law 
 of life. Keality is, after all, that which draws all 
 men to it. It is not necessarily ahvays victorious, 
 at least, not so immediately, either in the conduct 
 of the world or the manifold conflicts of human life.
 
 Often in the world you see some partial and unreal 
 
 interest or object triumphing, it may be for an 
 
 indefinite time, over that real good which, as we 
 
 can't help thinking, men ought to discern ; often in 
 
 individuals we see some unreal personage, by the 
 
 help of talent or imposture, deluding others or 
 
 himself, and winning a considerable, though a 
 
 transitory, credit. Still, generally, though not, I 
 
 fear, invariably, the veal — whether man or things — 
 
 prevails in the end. The man may often have a 
 
 long struggle to do so. He may have to call into 
 
 play all his faith, in order to follow his convictions, 
 
 to be real and true to himself, and not to adopt the 
 
 tricks and cant of unreality. But in the end even 
 
 the world discerns the true man, and, whether it 
 
 entirely agrees with him or not, it places him 
 
 among its heroes. Nor does his work ever fail. 
 
 "It is impossible to say," are the words of one of 
 
 whom I am about soon to speak, ''how much good 
 
 " may not be done by any system carried out in the 
 
 "Spirit of true Prayer," i.e., of the highest reality. 
 
 Much, indeed, in the work, even of the sincerest 
 
 men — " wood, hay, stubble" — may have to be 
 
 " burned ;" but the example of a pure, and real, 
 
 and self-denying character, especially when God 
 
 has called it to do a great work, can "never fail," 
 
 never be wholly lost. 
 
 Such are among the first thoughts which have 
 filled my mind in thinking upon the death of one 
 of the not very numerous Heads of the English 
 Church who will live as remarkable figures in its 
 
 O
 
 history. He was, above all, real and simple, and 
 he was emphatically a man, with the best qualities 
 of a good man — courage, sound judgment, and a 
 strong but tempered will ; and though this is far 
 from being all that is to be said of him, yet these 
 I believe to have been the simple but strong 
 foundations on which a great character grew and 
 ripened. If I may venture to say so, I have had 
 large opportunities for understanding it, for I have 
 known him with the closest intimacy ever since 
 I came — forty-seven years since — as a boy from 
 school to be one of his earliest pupils at Oxford, 
 and I have ever known him as the same true, 
 simple, single-hearted, and to me, perfectly open 
 and generous friend. I should not be true to 
 myself if I did not add, that in many points which 
 we each believed to be of great importance to the 
 Church, we almost from the first differed widely ; 
 but it was a part of the largeness of his character 
 that, wherever he believed a man " to hold the 
 Head, which is Christ," no minor difference dim- 
 inished his affection, and, as I have often heard 
 him say, that he counted it among the chief 
 blessings of his life that he had been brought 
 into close relations with a large variety of sincere 
 convictions, and had learned to appreciate good- 
 ness under so many forms, so it was among his 
 very last utterances to me that, various and almost 
 conflicting as the work of many of his friends had 
 been, God, he believed, had directed it all to 
 good.
 
 6 
 
 Well then, I would say that the leading features 
 in the character of the great man whom we have 
 lost (and whom I believe that all Churchmen, with 
 hardly an exception, now mourn with affection) 
 were its reality and completeness, and its calm self- 
 reliance, and that its strength and beauty were 
 seen not in the brilliancy of single gifts, — for there 
 was perhaps some lack of imaginative power, — 
 but in the harmony with which all his talents and 
 feelings worked together, each being ready when 
 it was wanted, and none ever running into exagger- 
 ation or unreality. Now, no doubt something of 
 this mental balance has often been seen in very 
 different men, and particularly (if I may say so) 
 in many English ecclesiastics, who have been 
 selected for what is called their "moderation," and 
 in whom it has resulted in nothing higher than an 
 amiable, decorous, and commonplace character. 
 But what saved it from being this in the late 
 Ai^hbishop of Canterbruy was a great self- 
 reliance, a determination, marked through life, 
 to do all that he did with all his might, and this 
 combined with a strong and statesmanlike instinct 
 for action, and with a natural but controlled fire 
 and impetuosity, akin to genius. He had always a 
 keen sense (which he expressed on many occasions) 
 that the worst possible state for a church was that 
 of standing still. He had no sort of s}Tnpathy for 
 that kind of "soundness" \vith which no one could 
 possibly disagree, and of which "all men spoke 
 well." Wherever he was, whether at Carhsle, or in
 
 London, or Canterbury, he was never content unless 
 he had on hand some improvement in the working 
 of the Church unknown before. He was one of the 
 first, — though it shoukl be added that in a different 
 way Bishop Wilberforce was equally so, being 
 in this his forerunner, — to popularise the work of a 
 Bishop, and to make men understand that there 
 could be such a thing as "a Great Bishop." With 
 this view, though of great innate dignity, he was, 
 especially at the beginning of his career, almost to 
 excess indifferent to the old forms of episcopal 
 etiquette ; and to " the astonishment," it has truly 
 been said, " of all lovers of routine, he at one time 
 made his presence felt in various out-of-the-way 
 places, now preaching in omnibus-yards, now visit- 
 ing the sick wards of some Metropolitan Hospital, 
 now penning a summons to the faithful, both clergy 
 and laity, to make a noble and vigorous united 
 effort on behalf of the spiritual destitution of 
 London." And this earnest practical zeal endeared 
 him from the first to the great body of working 
 Englishmen, so that it may, perhaps, be said with 
 truth, that no English Bishop has ever been so 
 great a favourite with the English laity. It has, 
 indeed, been often remarked that he was the 
 greatest and most influential Archbishop our 
 Church has seen since Laud ; and this is true ; 
 though these two great men had so few elements 
 in common that it is difficult to compare them — 
 the one essentially doctrinal, leaving an impress 
 of himself upon the English Church which it has
 
 8 
 
 never lost, though ending for the moment in failure, 
 the other holding common sense and reality to be 
 the paramount virtues, almost as much in religion 
 as in worldly matters. Still, I venture to think 
 that, in the main, these two ty[Dical Archbishops 
 may justly be described as the two greatest rulers 
 of the English Church since the Reformation. 
 
 Permit me to tarry for a few moments longer on 
 one or two of the features of what may be justly 
 termed this great career ; for it fell upon a time 
 which must surely be for ever memorable in the 
 English Church, a time fruitful in vigorous thought 
 and in Church activity of every kind, but a time 
 also of great ecclesiastical difficulty, in that it 
 brought so prominently forward the diverse elements 
 of which the English Church, the Church of the 
 freest and most active-minded nation in the world, 
 is composed. It was, in a word, in many respects 
 at least, a great time of transition. "The old 
 order," in religious as well as in wordly things, 
 "was changing, giving place to new, and God was 
 fulfilling Himself in many ways, lest one good 
 custom should corrupt mankind." And for such a 
 time, I Venture to think, in all, or in almost all 
 respects, our late ruler was eminently adapted. 
 In the first place, as regards the Church in its 
 conflict with eternal foes, his reputation for strong- 
 judgment, his calmness, his firmness, his courtesy 
 and conciliation, were invaluable in making the 
 laity, alike of the middle and the upper classes, 
 firm supporters of our Church. And it is certainly
 
 due in no small degree (though not solely) to this, 
 that the Church of England, in spite of its internal 
 difficulties, seems to hold a far stronger position in 
 the country now than it did ten years since. He 
 was convinced, almost to excess, that upon the 
 connection between the Church and the State 
 depended much of the religious feeling of the 
 country ; and, so powerful was his influence over 
 the laity, that an attempt to weaken this could 
 never in his time have been attended with any 
 prospect of success. And then, as regarded the 
 great movement within the Church itself which the 
 last forty years have unquestionably seen. Here 
 we must regard his primacy as a whole ; and I 
 believe that two things may at once be said of it : 
 first, that he was in no sense a party man ; and, 
 secondly, that his eflbrts were g^lways, and in his 
 last years increasingly so, for peace and for a 
 comprehensive charity. As to the first, no man 
 had a more deep conviction, which he expressed in 
 many of his last utterances, that goodness is of no 
 party ; and that the Church of England is consti- 
 tuted on the principle of allowing free play to those 
 deep religious convictions which, by the very law 
 of our being, take such different directions in truly 
 good men. That he made no mistakes in this 
 respect I am far indeed from saying. Brought u\^, 
 as Bishop Butler and others of our greatest bishops 
 have been, in a different communion, he perhaps 
 never completely realised the great thought (which 
 his predecessor Dr. Arnold had grasped, in
 
 10 
 
 however mistaken a form) of the part which the 
 Christian Chnrch has played in the history of 
 Christ's rehgion. He used to say, in a tone of 
 humour, that he would not unchurch all his 
 relations and early friends. Nor, perhaps, did he 
 sufficiently estimate the strong hold which the 
 beauty of public worship is gradually obtaining 
 over devout minds in the present generation ; and 
 this led to an act inconsistent, in my opinion, with 
 his own largeness of sympathy for all zealous work 
 within the Church of England, and with that 
 toleration of wide differences of opinion by which 
 alone, as I believe, that Church can stand. But 
 though I have never ventured to speak as if I 
 believed his Primacy to have been faultless, where, 
 it may well be asked, is the statesman, lay or ecclesi- 
 astic, whose conduct all will admit to have been free 
 from error ? and I hold it to be a proof of the ever- 
 growing and ever-learning character of his mind, 
 not only that he perceived the act of which I speak 
 to have been a failure, but that he desired almost 
 from the first that its application should be as 
 limited as possible. "Both the Church and the 
 world," these were almost his last written words^ 
 " seem entering on totally new phases ;" and I am 
 persuaded that he knew both human nature and 
 the Church of England too well, to believe it 
 desirable or possible to extinguish any religious 
 movement which has its strong foundation in the 
 convictions and conduct of really religious men. 
 Nor can I avoid recording that his last words to
 
 11 
 
 myself, spoken with failing breath, were a reference 
 to what he called " our troubles," and that he 
 expressed his great thankfulness at the spirit in 
 which his last effort to promote the peace of the 
 Church had been received. 
 
 I am afraid that in saying even thus much I may 
 be thought l:>y some to have spoken prematurely 
 of a work that cannot be judged at once, and on 
 which we must await the verdict of history. I 
 have but wished to describe very briefly some of 
 those qualities which were found in our late Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, and which were such as 
 (I venture to think) distinctly placed him within 
 the small circle of the great men of his time. He 
 was indeed in many respects a born ruler of men, 
 and wherever his lot had been cast, — whether in a 
 wide or a narrow sphere, whether in the political 
 or the religious world,— his sound judgment, his 
 self-reliance, his dignity of bearing, and his great 
 aims, must have given him a commanding position. 
 Nor can I doubt that, by the confidence which 
 these qualities inspired, he was, in spite of some 
 errors of judgment, pre-eminently fitted among 
 the Prelates of his day to rule the Church 
 of England wisely, and to leave it more deeply 
 rooted than he found it in the attachment of its 
 members. 
 
 I turn, however, in conclusion, to a happier 
 thought ; for who can doubt that it was the 
 personal character far more than the opinions of 
 this great man which made him dearly loved
 
 12 
 
 by those who knew him best? I have tried, 
 though very inadequately, to show what he was 
 to the world ; but how can I dwell upon what 
 he was to his friends — not only in the buoyancy 
 of his youth and health, but in the last days 
 of his failing strength ? I have spoken already 
 of his absolute truthfulness and simplicity, of 
 his unfailing friendship; and I might have said 
 ^ore of a home broken indeed by great trials, but 
 the domestic happiness of which he once himself 
 described to me as " a heaven upon earth." Only 
 two qualities more I will trust myself to dwell 
 upon — that which was a great source of his 
 influence, his social charm ; and that playful 
 humour which was ever ready, now to enliven 
 an argument, now to disarm or win an opponent, 
 and which was truly in him, as in another great 
 man, " the wit which loved to play, not wound." 
 Such gifts, when they are the unaffected expression 
 of a kind heart, are indeed a great power for good, 
 whether in men holding a great social or a great 
 religious position; they sweeten life, they are what 
 the heathen moralist called "the very adornment of 
 ' virtue,' " and they are a true and Christian expres- 
 sion of St. Paul's direction to every one " to rejoice 
 with them that do rejoice," as well as "to weep 
 with them that weep." And now I have but little 
 more to say. Three great men, all of whom, in 
 spite of wide differences, heartily loved the English 
 Church, have been called to their rest in the last 
 eighteen months ; and it was impossible for any
 
 13 
 
 one who knew them well not to admire and love 
 them all. Their differences were, I say, in some 
 respects, very great, and many of us would feel 
 them to be so. But, on Friday last, I think that 
 many who gathered round the grave at Addington 
 must have been struck by the fact that the Hymn — 
 the beloved Hymn of the Archbishop's home — was 
 " Lead, kindly light, lead thou me on," the work of 
 the great man who has for so long left us. Who 
 could hear it and not feel that a stronger bond 
 binds men of true goodness than can be broken 
 by any differences of opinion, however real and 
 important? It must be so. If there be a God 
 who has made us and loves us, we shall surely one 
 day learn in Him, not indeed that it was of no 
 importance to contend here for what we each 
 believe to be the Faith, but that even differences 
 of Faith shall one day be swallowed up in the 
 greater victory of Love. 
 
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