Hailsham Gospel Mission

David Vaughan

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By David Vaughan

March 2024

 I am a fair rose, ruby red
I grow in a courtyard square
And all who pass may breathe my scent
As it fills the summer air

 A young man plucked me from my wall
He turned and then he smiled
He gave me to his pretty wife
And she was full with child

 In a stable filled with pungent air
The cattle they were lowing
The maiden gave birth to a son
And blood and love came flowing

 A lady plucked me from my stem
And pinned me next her breast
She went into an upper room
Where men were taking rest

She took a jar of rich perfume
The smell it was so sweet
It blended with my petals
As she washed a young man’s feet

Some soldiers picked me carelessly
And threw me to the ground
They hacked my thorn branch from the wall
And plaited it around

I sensed them as they took my thorns
And, as I lay there dying
They pushed them on a young man’s head
To mock him they were trying

The courtyard seemed to darken then
The air was filled with doom
And a single drop of his life’s blood
Fell on my dying bloom

Once more I’m in full flower again
I scent the air of spring
But now I bloom at heaven’s gate
And the young man is my King


A Yorkshire sojourn between lockdowns!
By David Vaughan

In September 2020 the first lockdown had lasted about 5 months and then the Prime Minister, aided by Mr Whitty and his slides, told us that we were permitted to travel and to mix with other people, provided that we had undergone a negative test 24 hours before travelling, kept a minimum of a metre apart and wore masks at all times. We could go into pubs and restaurants with the tables set well apart and could take our masks off to eat or drink! Having had a summer where all the outdoor events that I normally attend had been cancelled, some for the first time since the second World war, I decided to take advantage of this slackening of the rules and took off on a camping holiday to Yorkshire.

Being a confirmed railway enthusiast, I visited the famous Ribblehead ViaductRibblehead viaduct the 24 arches of which span a valley near Chapel-le-dale in the Yorkshire Dales National Park. I was also lucky enough to be able to join a special excursion train from Skipton to Appleby. All the seats had Perspex divisions between them and only alternate rows were used in order to maintain separation. Once seated we were able to remove masks to enjoy afternoon tea and take in the superb views of the moors.

A drive through the Dales National Park, with frequent The Dalesstops to admire the views, was made easier by the fact that there was much less traffic on the roads than would have been the case in an ordinary late summer.

I stayed near Skipton and enjoyed a tour of its castle and a street market where people were out enjoying themselves, masks were in evidence but social distancing was largely ignored, which did not seem to matter as it was all outdoors and folk were not jostling each other anyway.

At the end of the trip I decided to pay a return visit to Bolton Abbey, a spot I had visited many years previously in my old rear engined Skoda!

The grounds of the Abbey were quite busy with families Bolton Abbeyenjoying the September sunshine and glad to be able to take their children out after a school holiday spent mostly indoors, but it was still relatively empty and very peaceful. The Abbey itself was locked, as sadly most churches were at this time, but as I tried the doors I noticed several prayers had been pinned to them. This one prayer really caught my attention as it seemed to sum up so many of the feelings we were encountering and the general effect that this dreadful pandemic was having on us all.                

Although the pandemic is still with us, and likely to rear its ugly head in some form in future, it is largely treated as something thankfully behind us, even if it lurks beneath the surface and cases are still being recorded.

With all the economic and political uncertainty, wars and natural disasters that are going on around us I think that this lovely prayer is still very relevant and I thought I would like to share it with you.

Keep us good Lord
Under the shadow of your mercy
In this time of uncertainty and distress.
Sustain and support the anxious and tearful,
And lift up all those who are brought low;
That we may rejoice in your comfort
Knowing that nothing can separate us
From your love in Jesus Christ our Lord




An afternoon walk in Eskdale
By David Vaughan

 I recently spent a week staying with good friends in Whitehaven, once a busy port on the west coast of Cumbria and not too far from the Northern lakes of the Lake District. I went by train via Carlisle as I was recovering from a bout of illness and did not fancy the 6- or 7-hour car drive. Neither did I hire a car whilst there as my main objective was to rest, and my friend’s house, overlooking Ennerdale, was peaceful and had a nice garden. So it was that I visited the Lake District but did not go to any of the lakes!

Folk who know me also know that I have an interest in industrial history and particularly anything driven by steam, so I decided to pay a visit to a favourite spot of mine near the village of Boot in the beautiful valley of Eskdale. Boot has a lovely old working watermill in the village, recently fully restRiver Eskored and open to the public. For me the only way to visit the area was by steam train, in this case by the ‘Ravenglass and Eskdale Railway’, a narrow gauge heritage line once used to transport iron ore and granite from the hills around Eskdale to the main railway line at Ravenglass, in itself an interesting place to visit with some substantial Roman remains, and a pretty main street leading to the Estuary of the river Esk.

Ravenglass is easily reached via a short train journey from Whitehaven. The narrow gauge steam line runs from a station next to the main line to Barrow-in -Furness, and from there you board the little train known in local parlance as the Laal (Little) Ratty, to take you on a scenic ride, Laal (LIttle) Rattythrough rock cuttings and wooded hills, to Dalegarth. The narrow-bodied carriages can be a bit cramped and, especially in October as this was, you need to be dressed warmly, although some carriages are enclosed. I chose to ride in an open coach to make the most of the passing scenery.

After a journey of about 45 minutes during which the locomotive puffs and pants its way up fairly steep gradients and round some tightly curved bends in the track you arrive at Dalegarth station. Here you can take in the view and have a warming coffee or lunch in the cafe on the station. From here one can chose one of three suggested riverside walks with the aid of a handy booklet, complete with maps, available from the station gift shop.

I elected to take walk number two that takes you via Stanley Gill Beck to Gill Force, and St Catherine’s church, via a delightful path called ‘Anne’s walk’ and back via the Gill Forceequally delightfulOn Anne's walk path called ‘Parsons Passage’. It is a circular walk said to take the walker about two hours. I took longer than this as I stopped often to admire the views, take pictures, or simply to pause and listen to the river Esk as it tumbles over the rocks at Gill Force.

My favourite spot on this walk is a seat on a patch of grassy land between St Catherine’s churchyard and the river. There are stepping stones here across the shallow but fast flowing river if you are brave enough to cross. But I just sat and drank in the tranquillity of a mid-October afternoon with some welcome sunshine and the sound of the birds and the river My favourite seatfor company. I have visited this spot on several occasions in the past.  The church is a simply built stone structure with a plain but charming interior containing a simple altar and old wooden pews. Centuries of local farmers, miners and other village residents have worshipped in this church and one can imagine it on a Sunday filled with the sounds of voices singing hymns in the local dialect and enjoying a welcome break from their daily toil. I am pleased to say that it is still used and kept in good order. Next to the main door there is a memorial to an airman of WW2, Memorial Plaquea local man who was founder of the Lakeland Dialect Society. It is inscribed with a poem he wrote before his death in action three years later. It is a moving testimony and reflects the stoic attitude of a Christian with a strong faith and trust in his maker. 

The inscription reads:

Grieve Not
If I should pass beyond man’s thoughts grieve not
For He who plans the patterns of the stars,
Who sets each leaf on every tree and bush,
knows of my course

And if He will my destiny be life ,
That life I seek--- and, if death
Then death is but a gate to truth,
Wider than all the sky and more immense
Than all the universe.

Lancelot Salkeld Porter
June 1941

Sitting on the seat hard against the dry-stone wall that encompasses the Churchyard I was reminded of verses from Psalm 23. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside still waters and restores my soul.  I was reluctant to leave this tranquil spot but I heard the whistle of the steam engine as it echoed off the hills on its climb to Dalegarth and I returned to the station just in time for my return trip to Ravenglass.

If you are ever in this part of the Lake District, even if you are not a steam train fan, I can recommend a trip on “Laal Ratty” and a visit to Dalegarth and Boot mill, with a walk along the river Esk and perhaps a picnic lunch. Go and see the little church of St Catherine and, if it is free, have a rest on my favourite seat.


David Vaughan November 2023


By David Vaughan

Swallows and Swifts lining up on telephone wires
Like a row of commas on lined paper
Queuing up for a winter sun holiday

Late afternoon sunshine gilt edging the cloud banks

Berries of red and yellow decorating the hedgerows
Inviting birds and squirrels to a garden party

Bonfire smoke, freshly turned earth and other sensual scents
That come and go on a fresh, nose-nuzzling  autumn breeze

A carpet of golden leaves that even King Midas could not create
Laid, deep pile, for our feet to carelessly swish through

The trees dressed up in bright colours
Party clothes of red, gold and bronze

Their branches swaying and singing to the rhythm of the wind
Enjoying a final fling before going to sleep for the winter

Spider’s webs in the garden festooned with jewels of dew
Like products from the nimble hands of lace makers

White mists in the reed beds and valleys
Like dry ice at a pop concert

Golden furrows behind the tractor and the plough
Straight lines pointing their way to next year’s harvest

The cry of seagulls following the harrow
 Recalling memories of summers beside the sea

The raucous rook with ragged, flapping coat winging to his roost
A warning of winter yet to come

David Vaughan November 2023