by Rev. H.R. Moshe Radcliff, Th.L.
4. Samuel Walker, 1714-1761
Samuel Walker was born on the same day as George Whitefield, December the 16th, in Exeter. On his mother’s side he was descended from the godly Bishop Hall, sometime Bishop of Exeter. Not much is known of his early years except that he was educated in Exeter Grammar School; from there he went to Exeter College, Oxford, where he graduated with his B.A. in 1732.
These dates show that he was at Oxford contemporaneously with the Wesleys, Whitefield, Romaine and other members of the Holy Club, but there is not the slightest evidence that he was at all acquainted with them. At that time his eyes were still veiled from the glories of the Gospel of God’s grace. Instead he was known for his gaiety. This did not mean that he wasted his time at Oxford; he applied himself diligently to his studies, which were to stand him in good stead in later years.
Samuel Walker was ordained in the Church of England in 1737, but like hundreds of others at that time, without being moved by the Holy Spirit to that office, and without being converted. He served in various parishes, and, although diligent in his ministrations and labours, he was actuated by a desire for reputation and by his love of gaiety, music and dancing. It was still in that frame of mind that he accepted the office of Curate of Truro. The minister of the parish, the Rev. St. John Eliot, like many others held this parish in plurality with other parishes and employed curates to fulfil the ministerial duties. Usually curates were not well paid; Samuel Walker was no exception.
The time had come, however, when according to the eternal purposes of God, Samuel Walker was to become a new man in Christ. This came about as one of his biographers describes: “He had been at least one year in his curacy at Truro before he fell under any suspicion of uneasiness about himself or his preaching. The first impression that he was in error arose from a conversation between himself and a few of his parishioners on the subject of justifying and saving faith, to which he was judiciously led by a pious individual. This was Mr Conon, master of the Grammar School at Truro, who, he said, was the first person he had ever met who truly possessed the mind of Christ, and by whose means he became sensible that all was wrong within and without . . . Intercourse between this good man and the curate of Truro ripened into intimacy; and the result was the conversion of the minister through the pious instrumentality of one of his hearers.”
The change in Samuel Walker was immediate and apparent to all around him, and it is not surprising that this should arouse much hostility. The minister, who only a few days earlier had joined his people in their vain pleasures, now gave himself wholly to the work of the ministry. His preaching also assumed a new note. He now preached repentance, faith and the new birth. Indeed he had to preach against the very pleasures in which he himself had indulged. Sabbath loiterers particularly feared him: “Let us go, here comes Walker!” It has been said that one could fire a cannon down any street of Truro at church time without the fear of killing any one. Now vast crowds attend his preachings, so that cockpit and playhouse were alike deserted. Walker himself had reason to judge that at one time or another all of them had been awakened, although to his great sorrow many had rejected the counsel of God against themselves.
The first person to be brought under the power of the Gospel as he preached was a soldier who walked consistently with his profession amidst much persecution. When this man died two years later, Samuel Walker’s funeral sermon made such an impression on the regiment that many others declared that they would like a similar change for themselves.
The opposition and persecution that Mr Walker had to endure now took a new turn, when the appeal to the Bishop of the Diocese to have him removed came to nothing. Some of the wealthiest inhabitants of the town now applied to the Rector to dismiss Walker from his post. The Rev. St. J. Eliot agreed, and with that in view called upon his curate; but the latter received Mr Eliot with such courtesy, and so talked to him about the solemnity of their office, that the Rector to his great embarrassment was unable to refer to the real reason for his visit, and had to retire abashed. The people reproached him for his failure, and Eliot tried a second time but failed again. After the third failure he told the people, “Do you go and dismiss him if you can, I cannot. I feel in his presence as if he were a being of a superior order, and I am so abashed that I am uneasy till I can retire.” It is obvious that he appreciated the spiritual gifts of his curate, for during his severe illness he asked him to pray for his recovery, promising his support if he should regain health.
Whatever his enemies might be able to say about his preaching, they could not gainsay his holy and consistent and self-denying life. He leaves two particular incidents in proof of it. First he resigned from the charge of the Parish of Talland, which he held in conjunction with his curacy of Truro. After his conversion he realised that he could not fulfil his ministry to both places, although the Parish of Talland was more lucrative than that of Truro. Thus he was obliged to move into very humble lodgings. The second occasion was his refusal to marry a wealthy lady, lest he be accused of preaching heavenly-mindedness and self-denial having first made sure of his own comforts.
A remarkable effect of his ministry was the work of God wrought among a regiment of soldiers that were temporarily quartered there for a few weeks in 1756. As soon as they arrived Mr Walker started what became known as the “soldiers’ sermon” on Sabbath afternoon. Although attendance was voluntary after a little while the numbers that listened were very large; and so many came to see him privately that he had to rent rooms near them. This provoked opposition from the commanding officer, who forbade his men to visit the minister. But even this did not restrain them. While it is true that many who came to seek his counsel later fell back into their old ways, there were those who gave evidence of the grace of God in their hearts by their changed lives. Those who were converted were often derided by their comrades, but grace enabled them to stand. There was also a change in another respect: discipline increased, crime decreased and punishment diminished. When at the end of nine weeks the regiment was about to leave, the commander and officers waited on Samuel Walker to express to him their thanks for his labours.
One feature of Walker’s ministry was the organisation of private meetings for the mutual edification of believers. He drew up strict rules for the governing of these societies; and thus where others had failed in a similar attempt Mr Walker was singularly successful. He also organised the Clerical Club, a gathering of ministers once a month. They took it in turns to be the host at the meeting, and the host was responsible for the selection of the topic for discussion. To guard against criticism the fare was simple; and, to prevent any one monopolising discussion, each member had to bring his contribution in writing.
Walker was faithful in his personal ministration. He took great care in catechising the young; he taught the serious nature of partaking of the Lord’s Supper; he visited the sick; and always used opportunities at weddings and funerals. On one occasion when conducting a funeral of a young man who was drowned while bathing on a Sabbath he took as his text: “There is but a step between me and death” (1 Sam. 20, 3). The extent of his labours can be gathered from a letter he wrote to a friend: “My stated business (beside ‘Sunday’ duty, prayers Wednesday and Fridays, burials, baptisms and attendance on sick) is, on Monday and Wednesday, to talk to such as apply to me in private from six to ten in the evening; Tuesday, to attend the society; and Thursday, a lecture in the church in the evening. Saturday, and as much of Friday as I can give, is preparing the Sunday’s sermons. To all this must be added what I may well call the care of the church, that is, of above a hundred people, who, on one account or another, continually need my direction. You will not wonder if my strength proves unequal to my labour, and I find myself debilitated, and under necessity of making my time shorter by lying in bed longer than formerly. In short, what I am going through seems evidently to be hastening my end, though there be no immediate danger.”
His theology and preaching was thoroughly Calvinistic. Charles Pye, who followed Samuel Walker, is reported to have said, “My pulpit so stinks of Calvinism that not a century will purge it.” Walker did not hold to Wesley’s doctrine of Entire Sanctification, that is, that instantly by an act of faith ‘perfect righteousness is wrought in the soul.’ This, claimed Wesley, was the second stage of Christian experience. Mr Walker, in denying this, said: “Perfect holiness is absolutely necessary to perfect happiness in God. And for this the Christian believer waits for Jesus, and the operation of his mighty grace. He cannot effect it himself . . . It is a divine work . . . beginning in regeneration . . . grows up toward that perfect state to which all shall be advanced in the future world . . .”
He did not leave us much in writing except a series of sermons, the most famous being eleven sermons entitled, ‘The Christian.’ These reveal that his style was blunt and straight to the point, making quite clear the issue before his hearers and what was required of them.
Samuel Walker died in 1761 at the early age of 46 in Blackheath, London, of pulmonary consumption from which he suffered for about one year prior to his death. His last days were passed in the enjoyment of the peace and joy which he so often preached to others.
How little of the sea can a child carry in his hand; as little do I take away of my great sea, my boundless and running-over Christ Jesus.
Samuel Rutherford.