Chapter IV: Part 4

You well know that it is my rule not to "butt in," but as a
Pullman conductor once told me, "there ain't no use in having
rules that you can't break when you have to."

I believe that you respect my judgment; my judgment is that you
are the one man who has the qualifications to be Bishop of
Southern Ohio. I know your loyalty to your parish and your humble
estimate of yourself. But the Diocese and the opportunity which
the Church will give you as Bishop are greater than your parish.
Think of Trinity, Boston, at Brooks' election and its result
today. Spaulding of Utah brought into the House of Bishops a
breeze of fresh air, a new life and courage which abide there
still--You will do the same.

Think of the cheer that your election will bring to Vincent,
Reese, and the whole Diocese.

Let them have your name and your life. I never wrote such a
letter before and no one knows that I am doing it now.

Yours affectionately,

William Lawrence.

At the succeeding convention another concerted effort was made to induce Mr. Nelson to become Bishop. It was refreshing to find the office seeking the man, especially a man who had never sought for himself positions of prestige, a man never found in the society of office seekers. Although he was gratefully aware of the well-meaning intentions of his friends, and felt in the proposed honor the warmth of their personal affection, he did not want it said that he had permitted the election and then declined it. In as tactful a manner as possible he labored to prevent the Committee on Nominations from presenting his name. During a stormy session of the Committee a movement was under way to over-ride Mr. Nelson's wishes and present his name as the nominee of the Committee anyway. At this juncture Dr. Hicks, his close friend and a Vestryman of Christ Church, rose and protested with considerable indignation, "Gentlemen, this means you simply do not know Frank Nelson." The debate went on, but Mr. Nelson remained firm, saying on the Convention floor, "I _may_ not be Bishop of Southern Ohio," and he used the word _may_ in the ancient sense of having "power to prevent." "I cherish the tribute, but I tell you without recourse to thought or prayer that I cannot do it." Finally, the Convention proceeded to the happy election of Henry Wise Hobson, and the Diocese of Southern Ohio remembers with gratitude that it owes Bishop Hobson to Frank Nelson.

From 1916 until his death, Mr. Nelson was a deputy to the triennial meetings of every General Convention, and became the principal spokesman in the House of Deputies. This body is not always as decorous and staid in its deliberations as the House of Bishops, but Mr. Nelson at all times commanded a respectful hearing among the deputies. He came to be one of the leaders who, as a veteran church-paper correspondent put it, "could read the signs of the times." His opinions carried enormous weight though not habitually swaying votes.

In Diocesan circles as well as in Christ Church, he was absolutely fearless in utterance, and was among those who were eager for the Episcopal Church to make large ventures of faith. Like Bishop Brent, he commanded a vision and a breadth of spirit which were incomprehensible to those who could not conceive of a universal Christianity free of sectarian doctrines and dogmas. In this respect he reflected and perpetuated the greatness of Phillips Brooks who thus stated his position: "I cannot live truly with the men of my own church unless I also have a consciousness of common life with all Christian believers, with all religious men, with all mankind." As a natural consequence of such conviction, Mr. Nelson was insistent that the Episcopal Church become a constituent member of the Federal Council of Churches, and lived to see accomplished that small but significant step towards cooperation among the churches.

In the debates that occurred in various years on such subjects as the proposal to eliminate the word "Protestant" from the official name of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of America, and on the status of the Presiding Bishop, he was very firm but kindly and tactful in setting forth the Protestant emphasis in the Catholic-Protestant fabric of his church. He argued that the word "Protestant" in the title is there to protect the right of every sort of churchman. His candor was disarming, and he could get away with such unvarnished statements as this: "As you know I am a Protestant of the Protestants. I do not belong to the Catholic party in the Episcopal Church. I belong to the Protestant party. I believe in Protestantism; I do not believe in Catholicism, I never have, and please God, I never will. I believe in Protestantism; but I believe more, and deeper, and further and broader, and higher in manhood and womanhood. I can see a vision of God in the man and in the woman, in the Catholic as well as in the Protestant, in the Jew, in the atheist, as well as in the Episcopalian."[16] He was alert to any move that threatened the democratic basis of the Episcopal Church and diminished the power of the clergy and the laity, holding in the instance of the Presiding Bishop's status that the proposal for something similar to an archbishopric would introduce a monarchical form of government into a church whose government closely resembles that of the United States.

At those conventions when the Prayer Book was under revision, Mr. Nelson's spiritual discernment, large-heartedness, and wise judgment were an important supplement to the work of the liturgical authorities. One of the really notable speeches of any General Convention was his plea for the church to place the emphasis in the Baptismal Service where the Apostles did, namely, on discipleship rather than on Creed. "The Creed ought to be on the Altar, not at the door of the Church," he said. "I want the Creed in the service, and I believe it will receive more emphasis than before if it is inserted where I have proposed to place it.[17] The important thing required of Christians is to follow Christ. It is harder to follow Christ than to accept a creed, and God forbid that I should make membership in the Church easier than Christ made it." His earnestness and deep religious feeling made a profound impression, but there were those who saw in the proposal an opening wedge for the subordination of the creeds, and timidity and caution overcame the surge of approbation which followed immediately on his speech.

Commencing in 1925 and continuing until his death, Mr. Nelson served on the Joint Commission on Holy Matrimony, which dealt with the highly controversial issue of divorce. In upholding the high standards embraced in the canons of the Church, he supported that section of the Commission which sought to take into account the far-reaching human factors involved in marriage and divorce. He was absolutely convinced that the Church was not approaching the problem in the right way. To him it was not an ecclesiastical problem but a definitely human affair. He said he preferred to submit a delicate, ethical problem to a human bishop rather than to the arbitrary operation of a rule. He maintained, "Divorce is now on a legalistic basis. That was not the way of our Lord, and the Commission desires to lift it out of the legal atmosphere into the sphere of the fellowship of the Gospel." Towards this end the Commission had (in 1931) drawn up a proposed canon which was the result of six years' study on the part of an extremely able group of clergymen and laymen. Among the latter were some of the great lawyers of America, such as George W. Wickersham, Roland Morris, and Professor Joseph Beale of the Harvard Law School. This Commission proposed that "any person to whom a divorce from a former marriage has been granted for any cause by a civil court may apply to his Bishop to marry another person." In other words the Commission was endeavoring to have the matter decided not by some hard and fast rule which was bound to do many injustices to individuals, but by a more general principle to be interpreted by the Bishop or Marital Court. The proposal was defeated, but in the battle which ensued and has not ceased "Frank Nelson," says Bishop William Scarlett of Missouri, "was a leading figure. He was trying to see this whole matter through what he believed to be the mind of Christ, and to act and legislate accordingly."

At the Church Congress in Richmond, Virginia, in 1926 in a paper on _What Is Loyal Churchmanship?_ he boldly stated:

Even when it comes to the canon in regard to remarriage of
divorced persons, when I find in my conscience, standing before
God in the presence of Christ, as I try to do, that a man and a
woman have a right to be remarried, I will remarry them and take
the consequences. I do not mean that I would go about seeking
ways of disobeying the Church. I am putting extreme cases. Of
course I do not mean that.... My first loyalty, my highest
loyalty is to the Spirit and to the mind of the Lord Jesus Christ
as God gives me grace to see it.... The human soul is more sacred
than constitution or canons. Canons and forms of worship are used
to illuminate and guide men's minds and souls to Christ, not to
dominate them or compel them to conform to this or that.[18]

In a few exceptional instances he remarried divorced persons. He held the present canon of the church to be utterly ridiculous in permitting reinstatement to communicant status following remarriage after divorce: "If one commits so grave a sin as to demand excommunication, how can one be reinstated while continuing to live in that sin? It is absurd on the face of it."[19]

There were those who sneered at his position, saying it was individualistic and amounted to the setting up of oneself against the law of the church, yet he of all people was most conscious of the sin of pride and excessive individualism. At his last Convention in 1937, he reemphasized the point that the object of rewriting the marriage canon was not to liberalize divorce and remarriage: "We have been trying to interpret the mind of our Lord. We have presumed to separate men from the love of God by excommunication. This Commission is trying to set free to a higher plane this tremendous question which is facing us, to lift this tremendous relationship from regulation to the life of the spirit. We want this church to face reality." Nevertheless, the Commission marched from one defeat to another, but it still marches! There was passed in 1931 one constructive piece of legislation bearing on instruction in Christian marriage which was enacted largely through the extremely forceful defense of Frank Nelson.

The same human touch which guided all his thought and effort was apparent in his work on another Commission, namely, the Budget and Program. He usually was chosen to present the report in the House of Deputies, and it was always a masterly presentation. Like Gladstone, he had the faculty of making people like figures, because he set them forth in terms of human values or in what the newspaper writer calls "human-interest" stories. This same humanness was delightfully manifest on occasions when friends endeavoured to make him the presiding officer or President of the House of Deputies. He would never consent, and humorously said that if he became an official, he would have to attend all the extra meetings and couldn't play golf!

In 1937 the General Convention met in Cincinnati. Though far from well and worn out after the usual strenuous year in his parish, Mr. Nelson gave up a large part of his vacation to assist in the arduous preparations always entailed by such affairs. At the opening service in the University Stadium he was selected by the Presiding Bishop to read one of the Lessons, the deserved recognition of his place in diocese and national church.

In the extensive work of forwarding the policies set up by the General Conventions he was called upon, as one of the representative rectors, to speak in many parts of the country. He was foremost in commending the Nation-Wide-Campaign or budget plan of operation instituted in 1919, as a means of re-awakening the church to a sense of national responsibility. Despite heavy work in parish and city he never spared himself, and willingly put his services at the command of the Presiding Bishop. Only eight months before his death, he spent an entire week in the Diocese of Massachusetts speaking two and three times a day to groups of vestrymen on the forward work of the church.

When General Convention met in Kansas City in 1940, the first meeting after Mr. Nelson's death, the President of the House of Deputies, the late ZeBarney Phillips, said at the opening session:

Later on we shall have the regular memorial to all members of the
Convention who have died during the triennium, but as the
Convention opens without them I cannot refrain from paying
tribute to some of those whom we loved best and best remember.
First you will all agree is Frank Nelson who was the outstanding
member of this House at Cincinnati. His genuine Christian
devotion, his courtesy, his fairness and his gentleness can never
be forgotten. Let me tell you one little thing that shows his
character. You all know his type of churchmanship, and yet, for
the sake of others he placed candles on his altar for the
corporate communion. It was a little thing but it was so like
Frank Nelson.[20]

Whether in parish, city, or the whole Episcopal Church, his work was affected by a mighty vision of the Kingdom of God on earth which set him apart as an unusual servant who humbly read the scroll of life as it is unrolled to the children of men. He passed on to others the torch of faith which lights the path to the City of God.

FOOTNOTES:

[16] Address at the Centennial of Christ Church, 1917. He spoke in this vein at Conventions though I cannot locate exact statements in official records.

[17] Mr. Nelson's proposal placed the Creed immediately after the Lesson.

[18] _The Church and Truth_, p. 138, Macmillan Co. 1924. Used by permission.

[19] Letter to the author, September 12, 1932.

[20] Letter to Mrs. Nelson from Mr. Richard Inglis of Cleveland.

_The Mystery of
Personality_

"_There is not one of us but in some measure
is in his debt._"

--_The Cincinnati Enquirer_

7

"All the hold those people have on God is me. It is terrible. It bothers me. They love me but they don't come to church." Mr. Nelson confided in this vein one night to his intimate friend, Jesse Halsey, into whose study he had stopped on his way home from a call in a distant suburb. While it was inevitable that some people should use him as a crutch or should let him do their climbing for them, the truth of the matter is that he was a chosen channel for the communication of the Divine Spirit to earth-bound men. Because he was genuinely humble, he was troubled about those people who could approach God only through him. If they little sensed that what they loved in him was God, they nevertheless were compelled by their limitations to think of God in terms of Frank Nelson.

He was only a voice in the successive generations of men whom God has sent to minister unto this world, but men loved the voice and though it is now no longer heard, the mystery and wonder of his personality still remain. The happy blend of the spiritual and the human in his nature had a profound influence upon those who knew him. Though poor, faltering words may suggest the salient outlines of his character, the richness and singularity of it defy complete expression.

Mr. Nelson's rare gifts of mind and spirit were enhanced by a robust physique. He was tall, well-proportioned, and in his last twenty years took on an almost majestic bearing which gave him a distinguished appearance in any company. In his manner there was that graciousness which men call charm or presence. Those who associated with him, whether rich or poor, talented or commonplace, felt his friendliness. He was at home with all kinds of people, and though born on the sunny side of the street, and by birth and breeding an aristocrat, he became one of the most democratic of men. Because of his greatness some approached him hesitatingly, but they went away remembering only his kindness of heart. He never stood on his dignity in that sense which conveys condescension. His gay, infectious laughter which so often filled a room put people immediately at ease, and yet he never belittled his calling nor lowered himself to meet men.

There was a look of keenness in his eyes that sometimes pierced one through and through, but always there shone forth faith and sympathy and understanding. It was the warmth of his humanity that drew people, and consciously or unconsciously gave them confidence and a stronger readiness to meet life. Bishop Edward L. Parsons of California writes, "When with him you felt as if you were entirely safe. You knew that his judgment would be sound. You knew that he was too big to be dominated by personal considerations."

The same warmth expressed itself in his appreciation of other men's opinions, and because he was decisive in outlook and views, he found pleasure and stimulus in the spirited exchange of ideas and in sprightly repartee. In the Episcopal Church there is an amazing diversity of thought on ecclesiastical matters. Frank Nelson, for instance, represented one conviction, and the Right Reverend Spence Burton, now Lord Bishop of Nassau, quite another. "We were the best of friends," writes Bishop Burton, who is a Cincinnatian by birth, "and we often disagreed but got on happily together because I think that temperamentally we were somewhat alike--what might vulgarly be known as whole-hoggers. In that way we understood each other and did not annoy each other nearly so much as if we had had the idea that we could have only as much affection for each other as we had agreement with one another." The admiration and affection which Mr. Nelson elicited was pointedly demonstrated at his funeral. Bishop Burton sat in the chancel alongside the Reverend Jesse Halsey, the Presbyterian minister. Dr. Halsey said: "Bishop Burton, perfect gentleman that he is, not once crossed himself in deference to Frank's (to him, atrocious) low church prejudices!" Frank Nelson was like that. Respect for him sometimes came grudgingly, but it came because there was no personal animosity in the man. He was honored because he was a moral and a spiritual force with which to be reckoned.

His election to the Commercial Club of Cincinnati in 1923 is another indication of his democratic and appealing character. This club is one of the city's most exclusive, its membership being comprised entirely of business executives, captains of industry, and a small sprinkling of professional men. The constitution of the club allows for three honorary members, and at the time of Mr. Nelson's election, the only honorary member was William Howard Taft. An extract from the Club's minutes reads:

Believing that it would be a merited recognition of one of our
most worthy citizens, won by his unselfish zeal for the cause of
humanity, and as a leader for higher ideals in our civic life,
your Executive Committee unanimously recommend the election of
Rev. Frank H. Nelson to be an honorary member of the Commercial
Club.

Each year at the Club's Christmas dinner, Mr. Nelson invariably gave an address on some contemporary significance of Christmas. His message was deeply impressive to this inner circle of representative citizens, for he was one with them in spirit, even as he was one with the humblest of his parish. In turn, such associations gave him courage and reenforced his will to persist in a difficult calling, as the following lines penned to a club member reveal:

I wonder if you and a few men who are like you in real
understanding and real goodness, realize what your confidence and
friendship do for a minister? It isn't easy for us to keep our
faith in what is right and just and true, when successful men
tell us we don't know what we are talking about--that our faith
is plain foolishness in the face of realities.

He entered into the Club's frolics with huge enjoyment, and on one occasion took part in a pageant, dressed in the vestments of a mediaeval bishop. During an outing in the South, the Club attended a religious service, and while in the church Mr. Walter Draper had his pocket picked. After the service, in some excitement he freely expressed his indignation, continuing at great length until Mr. Nelson gleefully returned the filched article!

Out of his warmth of human feeling there came a real capacity for enjoying simple, ordinary things. If he was stirred by the tragedy and the immemorial pain of humanity, he was also moved by the elemental ties of family and friendship, and by all the simplicity that lends them zest and joy. He loved anniversaries, and was deeply appreciative of the innumerable remembrances he received on those occasions. Christmas parties in his home were a particular delight to friends and to those members of the staff fortunate enough to enjoy the hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Nelson. He was child-like at heart, and those close to him were warmed by his gaiety and thoughtfulness. He had a feeling for music and when he led the carol rehearsals in the parish house hall before Christmas and Easter, the boys and girls responded whole-heartedly. He took charge in a firm manner; in fact no bronco was ever more competently restrained than his youngsters. The chorus of boys and girls sang softly or loudly at his will, and enjoyed it, and when he left the platform, they did not growl an adieu, they applauded!

Mr. Nelson's interest in people, and the work he accomplished had for a background the sort of home environment which enhanced his capacity. In 1907 he was married to Miss Mary Eaton, the daughter of William Oriel Eaton, a Cincinnati artist of distinction. Their adopted daughter, Ruth, was an unending delight to him, and he lived to officiate at her marriage, and to become a happy grandfather. Mrs. Nelson's admirable arrangements of the household left him free of the many details that might hamper a man in public office. He did not have to worry about bringing home unexpected guests, and when he was not at home Mrs. Nelson carried on in a loyal manner expressive of his interest in people. At one time before the Travelers' Aid Society was organized, a mother and two children arrived at the railroad station in some sort of pressing difficulty. Not knowing where to go, the mother inquired of the telephone operator, who suggested "Rev. Nelson." The woman in her distress went to the rector's home on Pike Street. Mr. Nelson was out of the city, but in characteristic fashion, his wife took them in and kept them overnight. Mrs. Nelson's interest and work in the parish, particularly with the young candidates for the Girls' Friendly Society, was of a notable quality, and her fine understanding of their problems was not only an important factor in the effectiveness of that organization, but also happily supplemented her husband's unceasing labors.

Frank Nelson was continually sensitive to his good fortune in possessing adequate means, in contrast to the deprivation and financial difficulties of many others. He was incapable of concealment and there was a refreshing frankness to his acknowledgment one Sunday morning when, speaking on the parish budget, he facetiously told his congregation that his salary was too large but he did not have the moral courage to refuse it! He was also fortunate in many other ways, such as being free from illness the larger part of his life, and from personal bereavements, for his parents lived to a ripe age. His gift of imagination in dealing with many problems not experienced by him personally was, therefore, the more unusual. "Genius is the power of getting knowledge with the least possible experience, and one of the greatest differences between men is in the amount of experience they need of anything in order to understand it."[21]

The even tenor of his lot in life did not produce in him self-satisfaction and complacency, but often did make him uneasy. He had inherited his father's sternness of conscience and moral fibre. At one time when a parishioner sold a piece of property and asked Mr. Nelson to use the money to buy his first car, he was sorely perplexed as to the appropriateness of accepting such a gift and allowing himself the luxury of an automobile. He wondered what some of the people in his parish would think. When calling in the "Bottoms," he often wore an old, blue serge suit. He was acutely aware that his salary came in part from many who had little, and to the end of his days his conscience troubled him about this, wanting as he did to share the life of the least of his people.

Frank Nelson was a singularly modest person. In the early years of his ministry one did not hear much about what he was doing. Everywhere people talked of Stein's distinguished preaching, and not much was said about Mr. Nelson's talents. He belittled his own abilities, and imagined that things which were difficult for him came easily to other people. He not only deprecated his skill in preaching, but thought he had no capacity for meeting intellectuals on their own ground. It cannot be said that he had an inferiority complex for that implies weakness, and in Frank Nelson power and gentleness were happily and usefully joined. The honor and acclaim that came to him from church and city never impressed him unduly; in fact, he was saddened by them because they represented a seeming success which in comparison with the great ideals of the Christian ministry approximates failure. "So likewise ye, when ye shall have done all those things which are commanded you, say, We are unprofitable servants; we have done that which was our duty to do."

His exceptional sense of reality and proportion, which is the very essence of humility, made him a forceful leader and at the same time congenial company. Because he was completely sincere and unaffected, his friends felt no self-consciousness in the presence of "the cloth." They in turn could be candid with him. This fact was once amusingly demonstrated when the music at Christ Church was not at its customary high standard, and Mr. Nelson, happening to meet a parishioner who had not been in church for some time, asked her why, and enjoyed a good chuckle over her reply: "Oh! I am tired of hearing the choir bawl and you bawl!" There was always a lively give and take in his friendships. On one occasion at the close of an inter-faith meeting, he was chided by a Roman Catholic friend about his poor speech. Admitting that he had come unprepared, Mr. Nelson without the slightest sign of resentment offered to drive his friend home, and they had a good two hour talk in front of the Roman Cathedral.

The range of his friendships was extraordinary for he possessed the capacity to kindle admiration and affection. Many a man found him a refreshing tonic, and would say, "I felt better for contact with him." He was a frequent participant at the Round Table discussions in the University Club, and delighted in the exchange of thought that came from all sorts. At the time of the death of his friend, Father Finn, the Pastor of St. Xavier's Church, which is in the vicinity of Christ Church, Mr. Nelson attended the Requiem Mass, and afterwards was observed standing by the hearse, head uncovered and tears in his eyes, for they had been the best of friends. A great personality is more than what he says, and many times brushes aside the trammels of the popular conception of the institution which he represents. Frank Nelson had a well-nigh perfect concept of what it means to be a Christian; and, therefore, in his wide range of friendship among all faiths and those of no faith, he carried himself without the faintest hint of disloyalty to the Episcopal Church. As he was never colorless, men knew where he stood, and though sometimes disagreeing with him, friends and critics alike recognized his genuine goodness and knew his motives to be without guile. He would say, "Always believe a person right until proved otherwise. Take people at face value. I am a fool, but that is the only way to begin." Such were the tenets of his quiet pugnacity of faith in human beings. It is no wonder that a working-man called him, "The greatest Christian in shoe-leather I ever met; a Christian capitalist worthy of anyone's emulation"; or that his faithful colored sexton, who waited on him, shined his shoes, and served him devotedly to the end of his days, should say, "We were pals. He was always tops with me."

Mr. Nelson was often the one called upon when grace of speech, dignity of manner and discriminating taste were required. At a community mass meeting in Music Hall in 1927, he was chosen to introduce the speaker of the evening, Miss Maude Royden, the noted English preacher. He accompanied Miss Royden to the center of the platform with all the courtliness of a true gentleman, and with that deference due a gentlewoman and an eminent personage. His introduction was an instance of his singular felicity of expression and his ability to state in choice language the sentiments prompted by the event of the moment. Such was Mr. Nelson's gift for being master of every occasion. Sitting in the back row of the immense hall which was crowded to the doors, I felt that the audience quickly sensed the fitness of the presence on the same platform of two such estimable representatives of the Christian Church.

To illustrate further his command of language and his absolute candor, there is an incident which also neatly tested his tact and truthfulness. One sultry evening in Holy Week, when a long-winded clergyman was preaching, it appeared to me that the rector dozed. I wondered what he could honestly say to the man. After the service when we were in the sacristy, he put his arm around the preacher's shoulders, and said, "Old man, you set me to thinking!" His tact was never failing, though often its diplomatic flavor could be more than faintly sensed!

Accompanying his humility of spirit there was in his nature and his opinions an air of authority wholly unecclesiastical, purely personal, but immensely impressive. It came in part from his particular type of intellect. He had an assimilative mind, which enabled him, for example, to acquire rapidly the gist of a book, and to state succinctly and clearly a point which he was desirous of making. His was an intuitive knowledge rather than a scientific. It was not the kind of knowledge of which the dogmatists speak and in which they alone can believe. Mr. Nelson's knowledge was the sort which sees into the life of things and of men. His intellectual powers were richly developed by his parish work and heavy responsibilities, and by his reflection upon all kinds of experiences and his understanding insight into other people's problems. A forty years' ministry combined with such a type of mind gave him, for one thing, a rather fine grasp of medical science. He knew its principles, and was able to simplify and help at times when technical terms leave the layman baffled and vague. Because of this special kind of mind and the sweep of his experience, his general effect on people was sometimes overwhelming. To illustrate a minor angle, he was not adept in leading discussions; he could not draw out a group because he had pretty thoroughly covered the subject himself, and the impact of his personality was a bit overpowering.

But above all, the authority one felt most in his personality was that which came as a result of his being Christ-fashioned. He of all men possessed the kind of nature which cannot live without God. There was within him a spontaneity that was entirely himself, impossible of duplication, totally socialized. He was not a mystic and maintained that he was puzzled by their writings. He admitted that the prayer-life was difficult for him, that he could not meditate or think about God for long periods. His was not the ascetic or contemplative nature; he did not live in reflective calm. In the whirlpool of human relations he was an explorer, a bold adventurer bringing people into the presence of God; and what does it matter whether one prays in words or acts? He exemplified in his life one definition among many, namely, "To labor is to pray." The weight of people's needs pressed down upon him so relentlessly that he was driven to do something about them. His was the temperament which animates an ancient prayer, "Lord, I am so busy this day, if I forget Thee, do not Thou forget me." We are disposed to have our tight little crystallizations of what prayer should or should not be. Frank Nelson was impatient of such, for he ventured upon a scale more broad than that envisioned by the average parson or layman. There are no theological concepts which fit him.

Mr. Nelson had a natural talent for enjoying people, which implemented all his work, but for a man in his position such a gift has its price: either one wears himself out or neglects his major task and so spreads himself thin. He chose the first course, and as we contemplate this record of vast accomplishment who are we to say that he did not choose wisely? He was a very busy man, and went about doing good, not just doing. His description of Helen Trounstine's life of activity is applicable to his own:

It was not restlessness, the hurrying on from one thing to
another, just to be busy. It was the true energy of full-hearted
and full-minded interest in life, and all that it holds; the
passion to learn that she might teach; to enjoy that she might
give joy; to rest that she might have strength to do her work; to
serve because men need her service. It was energy of mind and
heart so full of the vision of the greatness of life and the
opportunity of living, that she could not waste time except as it
ministered to the part she was to play.

Mr. Nelson did not scatter his interests indiscriminately but concentrated his efforts in the fields where he was most competent: social problems and the relation of the Church to the most concrete activities of human life. All these fitted into his prime purpose.

The vision which governed his days was strengthened every year in the long vacations that he took at his summer home in Cranberry Isles, Maine. There beside the sea he dreamed long dreams, and drank in the salty air which brought indispensable relaxation, and mental and spiritual refreshment. In his small cabin on a point of land overlooking the limitless ocean, he could be very much alone. Something of that setting and its influence is conveyed in a letter to the Reverend Theodore Sedgwick, a life-long friend, which discloses Mr. Nelson in a reflective mood:

Sept. 6, 1928

Dear Ted:

Many, many thanks for your intensely interesting letter, and its
review of Julian Huxley's book. Such a view of life and religion
does make one stop and think--and hesitate. It is the terribly
earnest spiritual problem that we face today in the ministry. It
is the sort of thing I had in mind, in suggesting the subject of
"God" for the next Swansea Conference. For we have got to face
the issue with eyes open, minds familiar with the biologist's
point of view. The old affirmations of formal theology are not
adequate to meet the issue. And yet in those affirmations I am
sure lies the truth--that God lives, God our Father--conscious of
Himself and of us--a person in a very real sense--from Whom we
derive personality--from Whom we came--and to Whom we go. If
mankind loses that, "his arms _do_ clasp the air" and he drowns
in the infinity of time and space and his own nothingness. We
have from Christ the truth and somehow we must learn it with a
new understanding--or rather with _the_ new understanding that
modern science and modern reverent scientific thought have given
us. I am sitting at my desk in my cabin at sunset. The day has
been cool and grey--a heavy curtain of cloud over the sky--But
now--that curtain is thinning and through the break in the
west--the whole glory of the sun has colored sky and sea with a
golden light beyond description for exquisite beauty. The gulls
are winging their way across the sea to a distant island where
they rest and go back to each night. As I sit and look, my whole
spirit is moved by the beauty and the evening quiet. There is
infinity here--of space and imagination. Yet--the gulls--I think,
are unconscious of all that--but I am moved by it and keenly
conscious of it. It is not just biology--or I would be as the
gulls--and I am not. And men are not. They want God--behind the
glory--God clothed with the glory--adequate to the glory--that
their own imagination and hunger and aspiration may be
justified--That is what Christ has given us to preach and it is
the truth. Now the gold has turned to a flaming red--thrilling
almost to the point of pain. One must believe--and then face the
chill grey of the coming night with the memory of it to lighten
and interpret it.

We go a week from tomorrow, back to work, to the men and women
who have so bravely gone on working through long, hot summer days
in the streets and factories and tenements of the city. And in
that bravery and drudgery, there is the same flaming glory of
God. It isn't just biology--it is the spirit of God, making the
physical the dwelling place of God and glorifying it with His
presence.

Frank Nelson had an almost Elizabethan zest for thought and action, and even at Cranberry he entered enthusiastically into the local life. He preached at least once every summer in the Congregational Church, and in that church today are numerous memorials to him: a silver alms bason, the Service Book of the Congregational Church beautifully bound in red morocco, a United States flag, and several pictures. Each year at Easter there is a large cross of geraniums in the church, and after the service the flowers are distributed among the families on the island with a card saying, "Given in memory of Frank Howard Nelson with the Easter message of Christ's Resurrection." When he left Cranberry the last time, all the public school children were dismissed to wave their goodbyes. His unaffected interest in the affairs of the community expressed itself in practical ways, and his unassuming and simple manner gave little inkling that he was a foremost citizen of Cincinnati.

"There is nothing comparable," says Coventry Patmore, "for moral force to the charm of truly noble manners." Frank Nelson's manner was not only the result of a choice family inheritance, but also the rich fruitage of a lifetime of faithful obedience to a consuming passion and vision. He was a life-giving river flowing in a parched land. In him the ancient prophet's words found a fresh fulfillment: "Everything shall live whithersoever the river cometh."

FOOTNOTES:

[21] R. L. Nettleship _Lectures on the Republic of Plato_, p. 129, published by Macmillan Co. Used with permission.

_Last
Years_

_Then of those shadows, which one made descent
Beside me I knew not; but Life ere long
Came on me in the public ways, and bent
Eyes deeper than of old; Death met I too
And saw the dawn glow through._

--_Anon_

8

Frank Nelson never became an old man. Toward the end of his life his body could not fulfill the demands of his spirit, and he was not able to undertake as much nor see as many people as he wished, but he never neglected any responsibility. At times he could not keep going and had to stop on the street to rest because too much exertion caused pain, but he would not spare himself nor did he ever complain. He was a happy soldier who smiled through his closing years.

In 1931-1932 he suffered from a blocking off of the blood vessels that drain the leg, a condition which has very serious possibilities. He weighed these possibilities, says Dr. Richard S. Austin, but like most patients he figured there was always the chance that he might not have to pay the price. He was like the physician who when told to practice what he preached replied, "Did you ever know a sign-post to walk down the road?" He bore his illness with fortitude, concealing from his family and friends the vexation that he felt as the activities which were life itself to him were curtailed more and more. When entering the church in procession with the choir, he would never use a cane though he was often suffering acutely, but squaring himself, and throwing back his shoulders, he would march resolutely on. As he crossed the chancel to enter his pulpit, something of his old vigor was apparent, and as he preached, his voice was strong and clear. If he was less animated, he was no less intense, no less the tremendously invigorating preacher. One day in the parish house Canon Symons met him carrying a heavy bag. He was about to leave for one of his frequent periods in the hospital, and Canon Symons remonstrated with him and tried to take his bag, but Mr. Nelson refused, saying, "No, I won't. I would rather drop in my tracks than to save myself and spend endless days in hospitals."

At the Annual Meeting of the Parish on April 10, 1939, Mr. Nelson presented his resignation, "not because I want to quit, but I am concerned that this parish should not weaken. This church is facing, as every church is facing, a new day; and it needs the leadership of younger and stronger men." It was accepted with marked reluctance to take effect when his successor should be chosen and had arrived. On May 21st the parish and many of his friends outside Christ Church celebrated his forty years' ministry in the one church and city, and there was a singular out-pouring of people.

At the conclusion of the observance he wrote a friend:

Though it was not so stated in the bond, it saved me from a
farewell celebration. I preached at all three services, and it
saved me the embarrassment of listening to eulogies, and saved
others from having to deliver them! But everyone was fine about
it. They decorated the Altar with gorgeous red roses, and me with
my red Seminary hood (He wore his Doctor's hood rarely and always
looked rather sheepish when asking his secretary to take it out
of the safe!), and we had the two choirs at eleven o'clock, and
lovely music at all the services. So the day went well, and we're
all glad it is well over.

In a letter to another friend he said:

It wasn't easy to speak and to face the services, and that they
meant the real end of my rectorship, my active ministry. There
were dear friends and very loyal parishioners there. And I think
you know my love for Christ Church and for Cincinnati, and my
inexpressible appreciation of all that this church and city have
given me. It is terribly hard to try to realize that after this
summer I shall no longer be rector of Christ Church--and all that
that has meant and means--and in very deep gratitude I saw the
many, and my mind and heart were very full. Indeed I hope I shall
not "retire" from the friendships, and from the life of the
people and city. Thank you more than I can say for what only you
could so write. I have had a very rare opportunity, and very
privileged forty years, and I hope the coming years--or weeks or
months, whatever God wills--will bring in their own way the same
high things and find me worthy of them, and chief of them, worthy
of your friendship and faith.

He had given the church and city a lifetime of service, loyalty, and love, and the place he held in the affections of his people had been abundantly made known to him.

In July before the last Sunday he was scheduled to preach, he was stricken by a heart attack, and so his ministry came to a close without further sadness of farewell. He spent a few weeks in the hospital, and improved sufficiently to journey to his beloved Cranberry Isles accompanied by his wife and daughter. But a doctor, knowing what others did not realize, broke down and wept when Mr. Nelson left the hospital. His friends and he himself felt confident that a protracted rest would do the work of healing. In August he sustained another and a more severe attack, and as the chilling, autumn winds blew in from the Atlantic they brought him to the Phillips House in Boston. He saw no one at first, but then he grew restless, and the doctor permitted visitors. There were many, and as he was making no progress, he was moved to the old family home in North Marshfield, near Cape Cod. There as a boy he had roamed the spacious, rambling house and the bright fields, and there his parents had lived the last twenty-five years of their lives. The lovely, old home with its atmosphere of peace brought back many tender memories. In the absolute quiet of these surroundings which he loved, he lingered some two weeks. With another attack he lapsed into unconsciousness, and his boyhood friend, the late Dean Philemon F. Sturges of Boston, came down to be with the family. On the morning of October 31st as the end approached, Dean Sturges knelt beside him and in the dear familiar words of the Prayer Book said, "Lift up your hearts," and the family bravely responded, "We lift them up unto the Lord." The Dean continued, "It is very meet, right, and our bounden duty, that we should at all times, and _in all places_, give thanks unto Thee, O Lord." It was meet and right that Frank Nelson should depart this life on such a note of thanksgiving.

At the burial in Cincinnati, November Third, the parish, life-long friends, and representatives of the city thronged Christ Church not to say "Farewell," but "Hail!", for as Alfred Segal grandly put it, "He was like one going away to gather in his victory." For a night and a day preceding the service, his body lay in the beautiful chapel of his own creation, and great numbers of men, women and children of all faiths came to pay a final tribute. The burial service was the same as he himself had always used, only read now by his successor, and the Bishop of the Diocese. To his friends and beloved people it all seemed passing strange if not unreal. Frail beings that we are, we had never sensed more than a vague possibility that his ministry would one day terminate. It was not past human knowing, of course, but it was beyond the grasp of human imagining that the day would come when Frank Nelson would no longer walk the city's streets, no longer hurry to the distant suburbs. We felt this way because in an unusual sense men loved this servant of the servants of God in Cincinnati who had dwelt among them for forty years. Yet the great congregation rose above human grief and surmounted the consciousness of personal loss in the tremendous note of triumph and thankfulness that prevailed throughout the simple service from its opening sentences, "I am the resurrection and the life," to the Bishop's final words of commitment, "Unto God's gracious mercy and protection." They sang only hymns of victory, hymns that he especially loved and which were expressive of his faith and spirit: John Bunyan's "He who would valiant be," and "There is a wideness in God's mercy." The recessional moved to the church door to the triumphant words "For all the saints who from their labors rest," set to the stirring tune of R. Vaughan Williams. Thus in the simplicity and dignity of the things said and done there that afternoon did the passing of this noble minister symbolize the destiny of all mankind.

They took him to beautiful Spring Grove Cemetery and laid him beneath a majestic sycamore tree whose spreading branches seemed to represent the out-reach of his life. Years ago at his behest Christ Church had been given a plot of ground for the poor, the friendless, and the forgotten of men, "God's Acre." There, by his express wishes, Frank Nelson lies among the least of his flock, the faithful shepherd who called his own by name. Then every man "went away again unto his own home."

_The
Afterglow_

9

It is now more than five years since Mr. Nelson's death, and today the old church in the hands of his successor, Nelson M. Burroughs, whose first name singularly suggests a prolongation of the Nelson dynasty, and whose spirit and abilities are a worthy continuation of an unusual rectorship, is still animated by Frank Nelson's vision, his joy in service. His ideals live today in the parish of Christ Church, which has not failed him but carries out that which he committed unto them in his farewell address:

The Church is the important thing to all of us. We need the
Church, for faith, for courage, for guidance. The Diocese needs
this Parish--its loyalty--its support--its fellowship--as we need
the Diocese. The City needs this Church. You will never forget,
will you, the Vision, and the power that came with it, that Mr.
Stein gave us forty years ago, viz;--that the Church is the Body
of Christ, not a club, to minister, and not to be ministered to.
The people all about us, the whole city, are our concern, to
bring them the Gospel of Christ. So, I pray God you will go
forward into the new day with high faith and enthusiasm. You have
a mission from God.

The mission goes on in the spirit of readiness to embark on great ventures, and of youth not knowing defeat, for on Easter Day, 1941 the authorities of Christ Church announced it as their purpose to erect a glorious new building on the site of the present edifice as the only adequate memorial to Frank Nelson. As in the dark days of 1917 the parish audaciously built the Centennial Chapel, so the tragic repetition of world war sees in the present rector and people no diminishing of that daring and firmness of vision. This plan is, as Mr. Nelson would have it, not for his own glory, but for the larger range of the Church in the service of the city. He had said, "This is the work of those who will come after me."

Christ Church will one day be clothed in garments of new beauty because Frank Nelson preached the Gospel that is the hope of a better democracy. The grandeur of his accomplishment impels men to undertake this task; and thus it is a living fact that his vision is still an influence in the city, and is the choice heritage of an unnumbered host.

If because of human frailty we think of heaven as rest, his spirit corrects us. If in our partial understanding he seems to deserve release from labor, yet for the very reason that he "wrought with tireless hand through crowded days,"[22] we know in our moments of vision that for so knightly a spirit the only possible reward is authority over ten cities.

From that kingdom of the spirit, he speaks to us across the abyss of time, and nowhere is his voice stronger, his thought clearer than in the first chapter of the Epistle to the Philippians. Here, forever sealed in the enduring words of Saint Paul, is the heart of Frank Nelson's ministry, a ministry valiant and without blemish:

I thank my God upon every remembrance of you ... for your
fellowship in the gospel from the first day until now; being
confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good
work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.

FOOTNOTES:

[22] Inscription on a tablet in the chapel of Phillips Exeter Academy, Exeter, N. H.