Born	1813
Died	1888
Son of Henry Woollcombe and Jane Louis

Louis Woollcombe

"The Last Sunday of the Year" "There is something very solemn in that word, last. The last time we see a person, the last time we do a thing, the last look we take of a place, contains a very serious thought. It tells us of something which has passed, that can never be recalled. It tells us that all things are on the move, an unseen power urging us onward, and the last day, the last hour, the last minute, must come at length... ? From everlasting to everlasting thou art God', says the psalmist... Meanwhile how swiftly is time passing onward to its end, like a river, flowing on with its rapid stream to the boundless ocean! This year that is just over, of which this is the last of its fifty-two Sundays, how quickly has it come to an end! Its joys and sorrows, its pleasures and pains, its cares and comforts, its griefs and consolations, its sins, its temptations, its duties, its performances, its failings, great and engrossing as they seemed at the time, have come and gone 'as a shadow that departeth' ... "It was but a moment ago that you were a youth, or a young man with all vigour of manhood, entering upon your life with all hopes and prospects before you: now all these have faded away and you are an old man, with health failing, eyes growing dimmer, teeth falling out, limbs shaking. Such is our past life if we look back on it, and so especially will it appear to a man when he comes to die... "Thus does generation follow generation.... But, beloved brethren, remember that although that which has passed from our lives has most truly passed and gone, and can never be recalled or lived over again, yet in its effects and consequences it abides with us for ever and we cannot shake it off. Just as a snowball gathers up into itself the snow as it rolls along, so as we move on in life gather up into ourselves deeds and words and thoughts which cling to us throughout eternity. "Let us then, now on the threshold of the year that is just passing from us look back... Who has not to weep for times that he has not used ... ? For seasons of sorrow which through our misuse have borne but little fruit, or of joy which have woken up in us but little thankfulness... ? "How short is life even at the longest! How large a portion of our short lives has already slipped away from us! Take from that which remains, the hours that are spent in sleep, the hours that are spent in the daily business of life, in taking food, in the necessary recreations of the body, and in the daily interruptions which are continually calling of our attention, and how little is there left for the concerns of the soul! ... "Therefore, today while it is called today harden not your hearts... "See God's hand in all that befalls you. Be thankful for His mercies. Be thankful also for His afflictions by which He seeks to draw you closer. Pray Him to give you a constant and daily recollection of the shortness and uncertainty of life in some such words as those of David in the verse before the text: ?Lord, let me know mine end and the number of my days.' ? Extracts taken from a sermon by the Rev. Louis Woollcombe (1814 -1889).