The Dean’s Farewell.

Franklin Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 139, 3 December 1934, Page 6

The Dean’s Farewell.

Only the size of the congregation indicated that this tranquil Evensong was an occasion at once memorable and affecting—the valediction of a famous figure of the Church of England from the pulpit he had occupied for so many years, says the “Morning Post.” Dean Inge was speaking of rest. “Do we,” he asked, want rest except now and again when we are tired? Does the ideal of eternal rest appeal to us?” The congregation, stretching far hack, overflowing into the aisles, filling every seat, felt that the moment had come. They waited—hut the D'can's voice did not change. “Every work we do,’ ’he continued, “has its. proper limit, its accomplishment and ending. Our whole work ought to he capable of being summed up—not by ourselves or our friends, hut by God —as a single act.” The congregation listened in vain for any trace of emotion. Dean Inge might have been speaking in St. Paul’s for the first time. But, as he spoke, everyone in the vast cathedral felt that the closing words were symbolic. It was a moment to remember. High up in the.dome pale sunlight wavered across the upper galleries. Below, in the “golden gloom” of the Cathedral, the people sat in utter stillness. The only movement came from the tall, spare figufe beneath the canopy of the pulpit. The voice continued, high-pitched and steady: “That particular task may have been well or ill done, but it cannot be prolonged beyond its limit. We trust that when the time comes for us to cease working, and to the fruit of our labours to God’s feet, we may be able to say in all humility, without forgetting our many failures, for which we ask forgiveness, ‘I have finished the work that Thou gavest us to do’.” One final sentence —then the voice ceased. A moment later, while the people bowed their heads, the Dean pronounced the Benediction.

Evensong had ended, but the people dd not pisperse. In twos and threes they stood about the Cathedral door. Outside, a crowd had gathered. They had not long to wait. Presently the Dean strode down the aisle with bent head, looking neither to left nor right. As he came out into the sunshine the crowd drew aside to let him pass; men removed their hats in

a complete silence. The work of twenty-three years was over.