London, England. 1797. From the living quarters above a pub in a seedy part of the largest city in the world, a wail erupted, followed by a baby’s crying. The midwife did her part in cleaning up, but she was in a hurry to move on. Another baby to deliver. As soon as she could, she left the exhausted mother in the care of her husband. He would stay with her for a bit, but he had to get back to the pub below. He and the wife ran the place and it had to be operated whether a baby was being born or not. They had chosen to name the baby Edward. They felt it sounded somewhat regal.

         But there was nothing regal about that family setting. An English pub, even today, differs from an American bar. In an American bar, you might be able to get a cheeseburger or a hotdog with greasy fries, but the reason you go into a bar is to drink. In an English pub, you could get an abundance of drinks, but you could also get all manner of food, from fresh caught fish to shepherd’s pie to roast pork to rabbit stew to whatever was locally produced or killed. The mother of young Edward spent most of the day, from dawn till long after dusk, working in the kitchen. Edward’s father ran the bar part of the enterprise and kept a wary eye on the few employees that bustled about. Being London and near the Thames River, it was usually damp inside the pub. A fire crackled in the big stone fireplace on most days. But rather than being homey, it was just smoky. The large pot that hung over the fire contained the stew and it would boil over and add to the heavy atmosphere. Edward was largely ignored and was left on his own.

         Sailors just off the ships of the Royal Navy or the East India Company were often in the pub. War was brewing Europe and those upstart colonials in what they were calling the United States were showing no respect to the English crown. Everyone seemed tense and it was a rough crowd and so Edward spent most of his time on the gritty streets of London.

          As he grew, his father decided the boy would never be good in the pub. So, in Edward’s early teens he was sold into an apprenticeship to a cabinet maker. To his father, it was a quick way to make a little money while ridding himself of a responsibility he had never really wanted. For Edward, it was a salvation. To be a cabinet maker Edward would need to be able to read and write and work numbers. He would have to be educated. He found he had a real talent with wood and design. And being apprenticed to the cabinet maker, he was removed from the class of young men who were pressed into service in the Royal Navy or the Army during a time of brutal war.

         Edward turned out to be a very good cabinet maker. His sponsor was well respected and soon Edward was, as well. His introduction to education opened new worlds for the young man. He became well read and even taught himself to write poetry. He had a sharp mind that never would have come out had his father not sold him off.

         It was during these years that Edward first started attending divine services. He went with his sponsor’s family to church for the first time ever. He wrote later that he hadn’t even known there was a God. Another new avenue had been opened to him. Before entering this new phase of life, he had heard music from a variety of instruments people would bring into the pub and the harsh singing that went with it. Now, however, at divine services, he heard powerful music and words that thrilled his soul. In a very short time, he had come to Christ and his life added another layer of experience.

         Edward grew in talent, knowledge and faith. For a while he was content in the Church of England, but gradually wanted more than just High Church. He gravitated to the Baptist faith, for in that he saw a greater freedom of worship. It was at this time that he felt the Lord drawing him into the ministry. For a while he filled that need by working in a lay capacity, but soon that wasn’t enough. Finally, after thirty seven years as a respected and sought after cabinet maker, fifty year old Edward fully gave over to the Lord’s ministry.

         Almost immediately he was offered a church building. (This was common in England. Outside of the Church of England, the actual building was often owned by the minister.) Edward did not want that. At the time, he said, “I do not want the chapel, I only want the pulpit; and when I cease to preach Christ, then turn me out of that.”  He took the pulpit at the Rehoboth Baptist Church in Horsham, West Essex, England at the age of fifty five. He preached from that pulpit for twenty one years, never missing a single Sunday.

         He had developed a great love for music and had taught himself poetry. Later, in the pastorate, he didn’t have as much time to indulge himself in the music he loved. But while he was still working as a cabinet maker, he would write 109 hymns. Early on, he published them without his own name because he believed them to be of poor quality and did not want to embarrass himself. Apparently, he had more skill with lyrics than with titles. One song, written in 1834, was entitled “The Immutable Basis of a Sinner’s Hope.” Catchy, isn’t it?

         Actually, this is the hymn that this blog entry is about. In Matthew 16:18, Jesus says, “You are Peter and on this rock will I build my church.” Edward had also learned Greek (which was usual at that time) and he knew that ‘Peter’ meant little stones and he also knew that the rock Jesus was talking about was Jesus Himself. This was the inspiration for “The Immutable Basis of a Sinner’s Hope.”  

         Think of thirty seven year old Edward Mote in 1834, a successful craftsman, reflecting on his childhood of misery and depravation. The hopelessness he must have felt when his parents had no time for him and the fear when he was sold off. And as he contemplated these things and he could see the hand of God on him even in those dark days, he wrote these words;

1.    My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

o   Refrain:
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand,
All other ground is sinking sand.

2.    When darkness seems to hide His face,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

3.    His oath, His covenant, His blood
Support me in the whelming flood;
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my hope and stay.

4.    When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found;
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

May the Lord bless you all.