But the difficulty and humour of the scene were both forgotten in the sight of the crowded, attentive listeners, and the evident signs of the presence of the power of the Holy Spirit in the midst. Long, long afterwards Canon Hoare revisited the place, found the farmhouse, entered the very room, and was overjoyed to meet some who had never forgotten the addresses of the earnest young collegian more than fifty years before. CHAPTER V _ORDINATION AND FIRST CURACY_ Having failed in his fellowship examination, Edward Hoare was in perplexity as to the right course for him to pursue. His heart longed for the ministry. On the other hand, his former College tutor and many old friends urged him to stand again, saying that it was impossible for him to fail in obtaining fellowship. For three months he was in sore perplexity, looking for guidance, sometimes inclining to one plan, sometimes to the other. At last the leading came. The Rev. E. G. Marsh, Incumbent of Well Walk Chapel, Hampstead, called upon him, and his conversation settled the matter at once; the fellowship was given up, and Edward Hoare began to think of a curacy and speedy ordination. Just at this time, and as if to try and hinder the young earnest heart from entering upon active work, the great enemy of souls assailed him with vehemence. There was a long struggle, dark and intense. Probably the most faithful have had to go through terrible times of testing, and have known what it was to endure dark hours, aye, and days and weeks, “when neither sun nor stars appeared, and all hope that we should be saved was taken away.” It may be a comfort to many who in his ministry have been upheld by the firm faith of their teacher to know that Edward Hoare once passed through a time like this. It is no breach of confidence to give here the following lines written in his journal at this time:— “Forsake me not, my God! my heart is sinking, Bowed down with faithless fears and bodings vain, Busied with dark imaginings, and drinking Th’ anticipated cup of grief and pain: But, Lord, I lean on Thee; Thy staff and rod Shall guide my lot; I will not fear if Thou, my God, my God, Forsake me not. “Forsake me not, my God! Though earth grow dim and vanish from my sight, Through death’s dark vale no human hand may take me, No friend’s fond smile may bless me with its light; Alone the silent pathway must be trod Through that drear spot— For I must die alone—oh there, my God, Forsake me not! “Forsake me not, my God! when darkly o’er me Roll thoughts of guilt and overwhelm my heart; When the accuser threatening stands before me, And trembling conscience writhes beneath the dart, Thou who canst cleanse by Thy atoning blood Each sinful spot, Plead Thou my cause, my Saviour and my God! Forsake me not!