A Modern View of “The Next Revival.”

IT is one of our efforts in these columns to keep our readers acquainted with the general current of religious thought and practice at the present time, and to point out its usually erroneous character and tendency. The utterances of the men who are the leaders of the multitude are always to be noted in this connection, as they supply us with some distinct indications as to the actual state of affairs within the larger religious bodies, and as to the direction in which the tide of events is moving. The more light we get on matters pertaining to the popular religion of the day the more we are confirmed in our opinion that the old paths are the right paths, the paths which lead to true success in the end, and that all deviations from the doctrine and practice of God’s Word are fraught with far-reaching issues of evil and destruction.

The Rev. John Watson, D.D., of Liverpool, a gentleman who combines with the office of preacher the work of writing novels under the name “Ian Maclaren,” is one of the leaders referred to. A recent address of his to the students of Bristol Baptist College (which was published in the British Weekly of September 24th) presents some points on the condition of the times worthy of note and criticism. His subject is “The Next Revival.”

In the opening part of his address, Dr. Watson frankly admits that the Church is at present in a declining and degenerate condition. This admission is of considerable importance, as the speaker is one who is in the full swim of popular religious life. It also gives a pretty strong set-back to those who are constantly enlarging upon our advanced Christian enlightenment and progress, and who unblushingly affirm that the pulse of the Church was never in a healthier condition than it is at present. Dr. Watson’s very first words are:—”No serious person, whether he be religious or non-religious, can look out upon society in our day without being depressed and alarmed. There is a general unsettlement, both of beliefs and of institutions . . . an exhausted atmosphere in which it is difficult to breathe, and which is apt to be charged with noxious germs.” It appears from this that things are so bad that people with no religion can observe the disorder and spiritual poverty that prevail. He then proceeds to declare that “if there is one thing for which the Christian Church should be praying to-day, and which above all others she needs, it is a repetition” of that spiritual movement which marked the first century of the Christian era, which visited the nations at the Reformation in the sixteenth century, and which was also felt in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. “Very likely,” he says, “the Christian Church in our country has to-day more buildings, owns more property, and raises more money, has more officials and more elaborate machinery than at any previous date, and it may also be argued that the influence of Christ’s Spirit is extensively diffused through society, and indicates itself by many a beneficent charity, but it still remains that everyone who wishes well to religion has grave cause for concern. The attendance on public worship is steadily decreasing, the grasp of spiritual realities is consciously relaxing, the enthusiasm for Christ’s Cross is fading, and the light of hope and triumph is dying from the brow of faith.” This is Dr. Watson’s estimate of the religious world of to-day in which he lives and moves, and we believe it to be a very correct one. No doubt he is sanguine in his anticipations for the future—the present is the night before the morning—but all the same he draws a dark picture that would be treated with scorn and contempt if it had come from anyone who stands aloof from the popular religion of the time. We are indebted to him for his plain speaking, but we are sorry that we are compelled to draw attention to the fact that his exposure casts a damaging reflection upon that kind of gospel which he and others of similar ideas have been preaching and propagating throughout the country for many years. It is clear that their newer and more human gospel has wrought no deliverance in the land; it has possibly made people think that Christianity is a very light affair that can be dispensed with with comparatively little loss, or that it may be safely held along with secularity of spirit and constant indulgence in all manner of social vanities.

Dr. Watson’s words, however, imply that there was a time when church attendance was more general, the grasp of spiritual realities stronger, and the enthusiasm for Christ’s Cross more intense. When was this time, we may ask? Was it not when the general professing Church held with deep conviction that the Bible was the unerring Word of God, when preachers impressed upon their hearers the infinite importance of things unseen and eternal, the never ending issues for weal or woe of their personal acceptance or rejection of the gospel, and when they proclaimed with burning earnestness as the one way of salvation to fallen men, not an impossible “Do and live” system, but “Jesus Christ and Him crucified.” the atoning Redeemer and life-giving Saviour of the lost? Will Dr. Watson venture for a moment to assert that the proclamation of these truths was a mere coincidence with the spiritual vitality of the times? No; he distinctly admits that the one fact was the direct cause of the other. Now, is it not as clear as a moonbeam that it is because the same gospel is not preached, that the results are not the same? The decay of spiritual life has been coincidental with the gradual departure of that gospel that was instrumental, under the Spirit of God, of producing and sustaining it. No doubt it’s possible for the true gospel to be preached and at the same time no abiding impression be made, through the absence of the Holy Spirit, but Dr. Watson speaks of a religious decay of such a deep and widespread character that can only be accounted for by the manifest fact that the same necessary and saving truths are not preached to the people as were in former times.

It may be seen, however, that our lecturer has no right appreciation of the true gospel when we note that he praises very highly the religious movement which took place among young men under the late Professor Drummond as belonging to the best kind of revivals. Seriously defective as was Moody’s evangelism, Drummond’s was radically worse. So far as we have observed, the latter had scarcely one thoroughly sound idea about man’s state as a sinner or the way of salvation by Christ. His gospel was just a new and beautifully-worded version of the old corrupt theory of salvation by the works of the law—the theory varnished over with the name of Christ.

In view of all circumstances, the ecclesiastical and literary position he occupies and so forth, Dr. Watson gives a remarkably fair view of the disease which affects the modern religious world, but when he comes to the remedy, “The Next Revival,” he is not so satisfactory. He first recurs to the circumstance that there were certain special truths which stood out conspicuously in connection with former great revivals, and that these truths were called for by the particular circumstance of the time, “The Reformation, for instance,” he says, “rested on the doctrine of justification by faith. . . . The great idea in the Puritan revival was the sovereignty of God.” With later movements he associates other special messages, and he infers from these particulars that any new revival will have a special message of its own. So far right. But when he comes to speak of the new message, he presents it in terms that we cannot accept, in terms, in fact, that are at variance with the character of any true revival of genuine Christianity. He considers that religion in the past was too individualistic and not considerate enough of the welfare of others. There is no doubt that such a thing as selfishness among professing Christians has existed in all ages, but we consider the following an absurd travesty of the true Christianity of the past or of any age:—”Dying people of say 1850 were solely concerned with the question of what would become of themselves on the other side; dying men of to-day forget themselves in thinking of what is to become of their wives and children.” He further describes the present attitude to religion—”A sermon on the hell beyond the grave would be heard with indifference, a sermon on the hell in the east end of cities will lay hold on every man’s mind. . . . Rightly or wrongly people do not wish to escape from the wreck if their shipmates are to perish. They want to see the whole crew saved together. . . . The sense is creeping over the community that socially and physically we stand together, and religion cannot remain a water-tight compartment of selfishness.” Now, it is all very well in this loose dashing manner to set forth the duty of seeking the salvation of others as well as of ourselves, but it is utterly absurd to imagine that sinners can be saved in any way but individually. There is absolutely no such thing as salvation in the mass. Every adult soul that ever has been or shall be saved must be awakened to concern about his or her own personal salvation. And “the whole crew” will never be saved, for multitudes deliberately refuse salvation and die in their sins impenitent and unbelieving.

Dr. Watson’s idea is that under the next revival religious people will go forth to the masses and work for their social and physical betterment, “The new prophet that will arise will preach the gospel of social deliverance.” He will insist upon freedom and comfort for the poor and the oppressed; better wages, more comfortable houses, free access to education and other social improvements. “When the West-end, the dwelling-place of Simon the Pharisee, takes on its shoulders, as never yet has been done, the burden of the East-end, and is prepared to make sacrifices, and to agonise till its misery be relieved, then will the East-end be ready to hear the gospel of Christ’s salvation, and just as the Church establishes the kingdom of heaven on earth shall she be able to commend the kingdom of heaven in the soul.”

Now, throughout Dr. Watson’s delineation of the new social gospel and the next revival there is a serious fallacy. He omits to notice how the mighty change is to be effected in the religious people in the West-end, or, for that matter, in the debased people of the East-end. Is it by mere insistence on their social duties that the West-end people are to be brought to the great task of helping the poor and debased? Nothing could be further from the mark. These rich people must first be regenerated by the Spirit of God before they will make the sacrifices and put forth the efforts on behalf of their less favoured brethren which Dr. Watson requires of them. It is because they, with all their pretensions to religion, are still in the gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity that they exert no good influence on the home, the shop, or the office, and do not even perform a particle of what they might do for the moral or social uplifting of their fellows. The true gospel of Christ must be preached to the rich, otherwise there is little hope of their regeneration. But is a gospel of social deliverance sufficient for the reformation of the lapsed masses? Is it not the case that though every person of the baser sort should get a comfortable home to-morrow, he or she would speedily turn it into a hell unless the power of sin were broken? Far be it from us to depreciate any right effort for the well-being of the miserable and destitute; but nothing less than the preaching of the gospel with the power of the Spirit to rich and poor alike will produce any mighty revolution in the present condition of society.

The leading messages of former true revivals dealt with the fundamental needs of man’s soul, not merely with relative duties. Ruin by the Fall, Redemption by the blood of Christ, and Regeneration by the Holy Ghost were doctrines that were invariably insisted on in times of awakening and refreshing from the presence of the Lord. To preach, “Love thy neighbour as thyself,” however important the obligation, and no matter what the peculiar circumstances of the times, without also a full and preliminary declaration of the former fundamental truths, is like attempting to build a house without a foundation, or like requiring fruit without a root. Dr. Chalmers, in the first part of his career, at Kilmany, preached with great eloquence moral and social duties, apart from evangelical truth, but he saw no reformation among the people; it was only when he was led by God’s Spirit to declare the fundamental truths of the gospel that he observed any change for the better among his hearers. Let Dr. Watson then, and all like-minded, be assured of this, that they have not yet found out the secret of the regeneration of society, if they imagine it is to be done by a new gospel of social deliverance. They must go back to the old gospel which the Lord blessed in former times to the conversion of multitudes and to the making of many wildernesses blossom as the rose. When we ask them to go back to the old gospel, they are not to suppose us as suggesting that it is by reading Church history and old books in divinity they are to get at it, though this might prove a very useful exercise to them; no, the old gospel stands ever present and ever new on the page of God’s word, if they had only eyes to see it and hearts and understandings to embrace and proclaim it.

In conclusion, we cannot repress an expression of astonishment that Dr. Watson should have to make such a lamentable confession of degeneracy as he does in regard to the religious world that has been so long accustomed to the bright, attractive, non-Calvinistic gospel, and short, varied services, with plenty of music in them. He frankly admits that there has been no great revival in connection with the newer gospel and the newer services. The people have been practically getting worse and worse under their influence. Worldliness, selfishness, and oppression are as rife as ever they were. The greatest revivals and re formations were all under the old gospel and the old services. This is just, in our opinion, consistent with the nature of the case. The newer and more human gospel smoothly plasters up sinners in a self-complacent view of their spiritual condition, and disposes them to think that they are good Christians if they mean well and walk respectably. The evil of sin is not searched out to the bottom in their souls; they are not told that all their external veneer of morality wont save them and that they need a vital change of heart, which God alone can give—a new birth. They are not solemnly and affectionately warned that apart from this change which is associated with a saving knowledge of Christ, they must be lost for ever. O no; the usual process by which Christians are now manufactured is somewhat as follows:—They attend the Sabbath school in childhood, they then pass on to the Bible class and young communicants’ class, and finally into full communion with the Church. After this stage no one hints the least doubt of their salvation; they are now safe for heaven; on their death-bed if they express a shallow platitud: or two to the effect that they trust in God, they are assured they are on the way to glory. There are thousands upon thousands of people in the professing churches who are thus set up as genuine Christians, when all the while they are totally destitute of true religion in heart, essentially carnal and worldly in life, and are posting on to a miserable eternity. We are quite sure that Dr. Watson has met a vast number of them, and with his Scottish knowledge of life and theology he will recognise the description given as true to reality.

What is really required at the present day is that the whole counsel of God concerning sin and salvation be preached anew to the religious as well as the profane, that false professions be exposed and condemned, that none be recognised as true Christians but those who give real marks of a saving change, and that the responsibilities of Christians towards their fellows be insisted upon along the lines of the commandments of God and His Son Jesus Christ. It is only when there will take place widespread preaching of the pure gospel of salvation and faithful dealing with the consciences and lives of men, high and low, that the divine blessing may be expected in the professing Church, that many souls will be converted to Christ, and that a general and genuine reformation will visit society. A very desirable and necessary preliminary to “The Next Revival” would be the sound and thorough conversion of many who are at present designated doctors of divinity and ministers of the gospel.

The Old Tradition and the New.—This booklet is by Professor Beecher, of Auburn Seminary, U.S.A., and it presents some strong, refreshing views on the question of the Higher Criticism. The author shows that the insanity which these modern critics charge upon the generation of simple-minded believers is rather an attribute of their own minds than a feature of their opponents’ character, and that the stock-in-trade of these theorists is a fluctuating series of unproved suppositions.

A Sermon.

BY THE LATE REV. EBENEZER PORTER, D.D., ANDOVER.

“Come now and let us reason together, saith the Lord.” —ISAIAH i. 18.

THE people of Judah, to whom this language was addressed, had become great sinners. Even their appointed feasts and solemn meetings were an abomination to Him who “looketh on the heart.” The only alternative before them was deep repentance or speedy ruin. In these circumstances God, by His prophet, called them to pause in their career of sin, and think on their own condition and prospects.

To the same duty He calls every careless sinner in this assembly to-day. Could a stranger from a distant world step into this place of worship, and be told the religious advantages which we enjoy, and the obligations which rest upon us, doubtless he would take it for granted that every individual here is a real Christian. But no one who has lived in this world, and had any just views concerning the moral state of its inhabitants, would feel authorised to take this for granted, concerning any promiscuous assembly of human beings. On the contrary, without pretending to know any heart, must I not, as a preacher of the gospel, presume that some of you, my dear hearers, are without God in the world? Are not some of you perfectly conscious that such is your present condition? You have heard perhaps hundreds of sermons, which you considered as addressed to others. I ask you now, each one individually, to listen to this sermon as addressed to you in particular. It is addressed, not to your passions at all, but to your understanding and conscience. The range of my remarks will unavoidably be more miscellaneous than is commonly proper in a sermon, but nothing will be said which you cannot easily comprehend and remember. You have hitherto neglected a serious attention to religion as the one thing needful; and you purpose at present to continue in the same neglect. Is this course justifiable? Is it safe? Is it right? “Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord.”

If the tomb which receives your mortal remains were to cover in oblivion your character and actions, then might you say with careless levity, “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.” But if a few short years, at the utmost, will usher you into the unchanging realities of eternity, can it be proper for you to pass heedlessly on without any serious reflection, and yet without any hope beyond the grave? Certainly it cannot be proper. Let us proceed then to look at some of these considerations, which demand your present and solemn attention.

1. You know that you have a rational existence. You see the glorious orbs which shine above you roll on and measure out your days. You find yourself possessed of a body, “fearfully and wonderfully made.” You find a thinking existence within you; something distinct from all that appertains to matter; something that perceives, remembers, loves, and hates. You find yourself an inhabitant of this earth—for what? Is this life your all? Was your soul formed, with its noble faculties, just to wake into a momentary existence and then to be extinguished in annihilation? Do you believe that you were placed here, like the poor brutes, to eat and drink, breathe and walk, and sigh, a few days, and then sink into eternal night and nothing? No; a response comes from every bosom—no. I shall outlive time and all its changes. When “the sun is turned to darkness and the stars to dust,” I shall exist still in some unknown hereafter.

2. I shall presume that you believe the existence of a God. The fool may say in his heart there is none; but certainly no serious doubt on this point can be the dictate of any man’s understanding. Whence came this system of things that surrounds us! Who raised this mighty fabric of worlds? Who preserves it? Is all this the result of chance? Chance is nothing; and nothing cannot produce and govern a system of worlds. Did men or angels create the sun and moon, and stars, and earth? Men and angels cannot create a fly, nor a blade of grass. Besides, how came men and angels by their own existence? It came from the uncreated God, the former of all things.

If there is a God, He is intelligent and omnipotent. He knows all things. Those whom He has made and whom He upholds every moment, He must see every moment. He must be acquainted with all your actions and purposes. You cannot hide from His searching eye; you cannot escape out of His dominion.

1. I shall presume, too, that you believe the Bible to be of Divine authority. That it is so, is proved by a flood of evidence which cannot be even noticed in this place. Did I suppose you to entertain any doubt on this point, I would simply ask, concerning any scheme of infidelity you can name, why are its disciples generally loose in sentiments and morals? Why do they discard prayer and all other duties of practical piety? Why are they so often filled with dismay at the hour of death? Those must be bad principles which make bad men. That scheme must be fallacious which alienates a creature from his Creator, and in the very proof of his immortality furnishes a motive to take refuge in a cheerless scepticism, or in annihilation. No prudent man will risk eternal consequences on a bold presumption, which at the utmost can give but a momentary repose in sin; and then must leave the soul in anguish, without consolation, and without hope. You must therefore admit the Bible to be the Word of God, unless you close your eyes against the light; and regardless of truth and warning, regardless of all that may be joyful or terrible in eternity, resolve to rush upon the dread experiment.

2. Is must be further presumed that you believe yourself and all men to be sinful. Here again, if I supposed you to have any doubts, I would ask you to look into the world around you. Read its history. Whence all the penal laws of every age and country against wickedness if men are not wicked? When men make a common bargain, why do they esteem a paper bond as better security than their neighbour’s honesty? If men are not depraved beings, how comes it to pass that in every period, and on every side of the globe, they have universally acted like depraved beings; and have invariably considered each other as deserving this character? If you have any doubts concerning human depravity, after looking abroad into the world, then look into your own heart. If that is not enough, then look into the Bible. Here you will find the point settled. Here your character is drawn by the unerring spirit of inspiration. You are a sinner.

3. You know that God cannot consistently allow the transgression of His own law. The honour of His character and the good of the universe require that He should maintain this law. In the exercise of perfect and unlimited benevolence He has threatened an awful destruction to all His impenitent enemies. You know that He is in “one mind and none can turn Him.” You know that He is able to execute his threatenings. Who then can hope to harden himself against such a God and prosper? The case is plain—if you die in your sins, you must lie down in sorrow.

4. The subject now assumes a character of very serious importance. In the sober conviction of your own understanding the point is settled, that you must exist for ever! exist, too, either in glory or despair. Have you ever thought on this amazing subject? Will you be persuaded to think on it now? Have you indeed a soul that must dwell in happiness or misery without end? What then is the worth of that soul? Thrones and empires are trifles in the comparison! “Earth and skies are dust upon the scale!” We dread exquisite pain, though it be of short continuance! How do the hearts of the strong and brave sink within them under the anguish of an acute fever or a broken limb! What man in his senses would deem it a light thing to endure such pain for a thousand years, for one year, or one month? Who then can dwell with devouring fire? who can inhabit everlasting burnings? Eternal misery outstretches and overwhelms human comprehension. Do you believe that there is, verily, such an allotment of suffering for all the ungodly? Can you deliberately view yourself as exposed every moment to plunge into it, and remain indifferent as an atheist or a stone? Is it possible that you should feel easy in such circumstances for one hour?

5. If you have given these considerations their due weight, we are prepared to proceed another step in our reflections. The religion of the gospel opens before us the only door for hope for perishing sinners. Have you cordially embraced this religion? Conscience perhaps stirs within you at this searching inquiry, and gives the honest answer—”In the midst of light and warnings I have neglected the great salvation.” Why then do you neglect it? “Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord.” Will you say that the system of the gospel is dark and hard to be understood? Have you faithfully endeavoured to understand it? Have you bestowed on it one-half or one hundredth part as much attention as on other subjects comparatively unimportant? Comparatively did I say? Oh what other subject is not comparatively unimportant? To the humble Christian, whether his capacity be great or small, the Bible is a plain book. Its essential truths and duties are so plain that the “wayfaring men, though fools, ‘need’ not err therein.” Will you say that you have carefully studied the plan of salvation as revealed in the Scriptures, and after all are not satisfied with it? Then what are its faults? Does it place God too high and sinners too low? He offers to forgive you, if you confess and forsake your sins. Are these hard conditions? Can you ask Him to come down from His Throne and save you on terms that would dishonour Himself? Can you ask Him to be at peace with you while you love and justify your sins, reject the only Saviour of men, and trample on the law which that Saviour died to honour and fulfil? No; He will not, He cannot do this. “Till heaven and earth pass away, not one jot or title of His law shall fail.” Not one sinner can ever be saved unless he confesses and forsakes his sins. You cannot prosper in arms against Omnipotence. The terms of the gospel are written as with a sunbeam; they admit only of submission or destruction. You are shut up to this alternative; you must bow or perish?

You see there is one, and but one, way to escape. That way is as plain and reasonable as you can desire. Indeed it is unalterably fixed, and therefore can never be plainer or easier than it is this moment. What benefit then can result from delay? Is it not wise to treat things according to their importance? Does a prudent man stand to exchange salutations with a neighbour when his house is on fire? In common concerns men act rationally. They are careful in summer to provide for winter; in health for sickness. A wine merchant watches the state of the market. A wise husbandman observes the changes of the seasons, and the proper time to sow and reap. A wise mariner does not sink himself in a storm to save his goods. There was a man among the tombs who mangled his own limbs; but he was beside himself. There was a profane Esau, who sold his birthright for a morsel of meat; and a heathen Lysimachus, who exchanged his kingdom for a draught of water; but these you say were foolish men. What then in the light of eternity must you think of yourself, who can lose your soul, and bury your immortal hopes without a sigh?

Serious as this language is, you will know hereafter that it is the language of truth and friendship. You slumber on the verge of ruin! All that the Christian minister attempts to do in this case, all that he is required to do, all that he can do, is to pray for you, and say to you, like Paul to the distracted jailer, “Do thyself no harm.” Break from this infatuation! Rouse from this fatal slumber! If you slight such warnings, given you in love and faithfulness, the day will soon come when you will be exempt from such disquieting importunities. If you should succeed in destroying yourself, you will have as little disturbance from the Bible and the pulpit, from Sabbaths, and prayers, and sermons, as you can desire. But know assuredly there will then be a reprover in your own bosom, whose admonition will be as the sting of a scorpion; and whose gentlest whisper will be thunder in your ear.

1. Your reason and conscience probably have thus far assented to the serious statements which I have made. May I now ask, what is your purpose? Here you are, an immortal being, standing on the small point of probation, betwixt the extremes of endless pain and endless joy, sustained only by the frail thread of life, which the sword of justice is ready to cut, while the voice of mercy cries—”Now is the day of salvation.” Will you embrace this salvation? Two worlds wait your decision. Still, perhaps, you hesitate; still presume on the absurd patience of God for a future season of repentance; and dare to suspend your immortal welfare on the issue of that presumption. You say, “I cannot think on these serious subjects now. Religion would make me gloomy, and spoil all my happiness.” What happiness? Are you indeed happy without religion? The world may promise to make you so, but does it fulfil its promises?

Have you no disappointments from without? No moments of anguish within? No fearful forebodings about hereafter? You are not happy without religion. To prove this I need only appeal to your own bosom. Be it so that you are among the number of those who are at ease in Zion; that though now and then startled by a call from the death-bed or the pulpit, you soon dismiss these alarming subjects, and pass along very quietly, for weeks and months in sinful indifference. Is this happiness? If it is, will it last? When the rod of the Almighty touches your estate, your friends, or yourself, will it keep you tranquil? Will it stand by you in death and judgment? Will your heart remain cold when the elements shall melt? Will your heart remain firm when the heavens and the earth are shaken?—No; serious reflection may perhaps be put off to-day; it may be put off to-morrow; it may be put off a few more days; but as God is true, it cannot be put off always. In spite of your heart it will come, it must come finally;—it may come speedily. Religion make you unhappy! That religion which sweetens prosperity, and presents a cordial even in the bitter cup? Go to the dungeon at Philippi, and ask what made Paul and Silas sing at midnight while their backs were smarting under the lash of superstition and their feet made fast in the stocks. Go and stand by the stake of the blessed martyrs, and listen to their hallelujahs while their bodies were wrapped in the consuming flame. Go to that house of mourning, and ask what it was that enabled a Christian mother to dedicate her little infant to God, reposing all her hopes for that, and for herself, on the Cross of Christ; and in the immediate prospect of death to say, “This is the happiest hour of my life.” Was it a gloomy religion that could thus bear up her soul, and fill it with heavenly radiance in such a moment? Or go to the bereaved Christian husband, and he can tell you that the best consolations of philosophy are utterly cold and comfortless in scenes that wring the heart with agony; while religion can give patience, and peace, and joy; and that all the books written by men can do nothing to soothe a wounded spirit compared with one short sentence of the Bible, “Be still and know that I am God.”

No, my dear hearers, religion is not a gloomy thing. Angels are not gloomy; men would never be gloomy if it were not for want of religion. Every step you take towards your last hour you are liable to be smitten through with some barbed arrow, from which nothing but religion can shield your bosom. And when you come to that last hour, let me tell you now, that without religion it will be cheerless and awful. No light from heaven will radiate its gloom. Perhaps a circle of weeping relatives may stand around your bed. Perhaps the gentle, trembling hand of a mother, or sister, may wipe away the cold sweat from your face. But what will this avail if you have no inward peace, no interceding Saviour, no reconciled God, no hope nor home beyond the grave?

You say, these are solemn truths, I admit; but still I cannot think of becoming truly religious to-day. I must defer this subject for the present. Then, how long? Shall it be one year, or ten years? Weigh this matter well. There are two serious considerations here.

The first is—what if you should live to the time proposed, and then find within you a heart more stubborn than ever? What if that time when it comes should find you frantic or senseless with disease, or bereft of all your faculties by some special stroke of Providence? What if, before then, God should utterly withdraw His Spirit and leave you in judicial blindness under the curse of a reprobate mind? Your damnation would then be as certain as though you were this moment in hell. “So I gave them up to their own hearts’ lust,” is the most awful language that has ever yet been spoken by Jehovah concerning any of the human race.

But there is a second very serious consideration to come into account. What reason have you to presume that your term of probation will last ten years or one year longer! Who has given you a guarantee that it will last another hour? “What is your life?—it is even a vapour that appeareth for a little season, and then vanisheth away.” You see that men do actually die in every possible variety of circumstances; at home, in the field, on journeys, in bed, at table. From the common scene of amusement, of business, and of idleness, how many are unexpectedly summoned into eternity? And are you proof against the shafts of death? Be not deceived. The hour may be at hand when some fierce disease shall thrill through your frame and choke the fountain of life. To-day you may be strong in the enjoyment of health, to-morrow the colour of your cheek may be exchanged for a mortal paleness, and your body clothed in the attire of the grave.

I know it is painful to think on these serious subjects, but they must be thought of. What will it avail to shut your eyes now? the light of eternity will force them open; what will it avail to keep these things out of mind a few days? they must come home to your bosom shortly. What if you can slumber now in sinful security; the day is coming when you cannot slumber. You cannot slumber amidst the confusion of dissolving worlds. You cannot refuse to hear that voice which will rend the tombs and summon the dead to stand before the Son of Man. Harken, then, even now, to the admonition of heaven—”If thou be wise, thou shalt be wise for thyself; but if thou scornest, thou alone shalt bear it.”

Robert Flockhart.

SOLDIER AND STREET PREACHER.

IN the Memoir and Remains of the Rev. D. Macdonald, Shieldaig, reference is made to Robert Flockhart as one who was helpful to Mr. Macdonald as a spiritual guide during his student days in Edinburgh.

The life story of this notable personage is full of the deepest interest, and reveals the mysterious dealings of the wonder-working and covenant-keeping God. While still a young man he enlisted in the army, and was immediately transferred to Chatham. He found himself among a set of abandoned wretches—nothing but swearing, drinking, quarrelling, and fighting is his own testimony as to his first experience of soldier-life. The evil influence of his companions soon manifested itself in his own conduct. In after years, in writing his autobiography, he says, “I believe that there is not a sin in the Bible I have not been actually guilty of, except murder. . . . I feel greatly ashamed when I remember that I myself am the very man that was guilty of drunkenness, swearing, and uncleanness, and that I went to such a length as to cast off all shame. I was worse than a beast. I would be ashamed to speak of those things I did in secret, particularly when in the Cape of Good Hope and in the East Indies.”

While his regiment was stationed at Fort-William, near Calcutta, some Baptist missionaries, accompanied by a schoolmaster, came and preached to the soldiers, though forbidden by the officers. “Before the missionaries came,” says Flockhart, “I do not think that there was a spark of grace in any man’s heart in all the regiment. There was not so much as a mere profession; and I heard one of the soldiers say, long after (for I would not go amongst them then, I was so busy with the devil’s servants in the devil’s work) that the Lord honoured that humble schoolmaster in kindling a fire in the 22nd Regiment that all the devils in hell would not put out.” The man here referred to, along with some of his companions, formed themselves into a church, and at the end of each day, when on the march, they sought out some quiet spot where they poured out their souls to God in prayer. But the God whom they worshipped was not in Flockhart’s thoughts—his career was that of the prodigal wasting his substance in riotous living—heedlessly he pursued his course, and greedily ran in the way of the wicked. It was while living after this manner that an incident took place in his career which he regarded as the first step in leading him to think somewhat of a world to come. While under the influence of drink, and sleeping off its effects, a sergeant ordered him to take a message to his officer. This he refused to do and, as a consequence, was apprehended and tried by court-martial. He was degraded from the rank of corporal to that of private, and ordered to receive 150 lashes. He felt deeply humiliated, but alongside of this we find the rebellion of the human heart manifesting itself. “It seems,” he says, “I was foremost in wickedness, as I employed my time in speaking abominable language till they were all like to fall down with laughing.” Soon after this he fell sick, and was taken to the hospital. While here he took to reading, and among other books Alleine’s Alarm came into his hands. Alleine’s description of the Day of Judgment made a very solemn impression on his mind. He felt that he too would be there among the great assembled multitude, and that it would be an awful account which he would have to render. Shortly after this he was reproved by an Irish lad for swearing, and he now set himself to give up this utterly useless, abominable, and dangerous habit. But so addicted was he to the habit that he found it difficult to break off from it. “Conscience flew in my face, and made me so afraid that for a fortnight I was so engaged in learning to speak fluently without swearing.” He next gave up his evil companions, and began to ask a blessing on his food, and never did food seem so sweet to him as then. Knowing the sergeant of the hospital to be a pious man, he asked him for some religious books, which the good man readily granted, with the advice that it would be better for him to read the Bible than too many books. The sergeant was in the habit of keeping family worship, to which he invited Flockhart. The invitation was gladly accepted, and the means of prayer and reading the Bible, and occasionally a sermon of Flavel, were blessed to Flockhart’s soul. Sometimes, on coming home from these meetings, he thought that all the angels of God surrounded him rejoicing (Luke xv.), and that the Spirit was applying the blood of Christ to wash away his sins. But immediately after this came a time of the deepest spiritual trial. He thought he had committed the unpardonable sin and sold his birthright. Dreadful and blasphemous thoughts would pass through his mind. He heard, as it were, a voice from heaven saying, Confess your sins! Confess your sins! This went like a dagger to his heart, and for a month he could get no sleep; he felt that if he fell asleep he might open his eyes in hell. The Lord was thus chastising him for his sins, and when made tender and broken hearted he was led to the fountain opened for sin and uncleanness. He now took to reading his Bible with new interest, and being a patient in the hospital he could devote much time to meditation and prayer, and whole nights were thus spent with contrite out-pourings of soul for sins that were past. It was while in this state that some came to him saying, Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved. He did all he could to believe, but found it impossible, though the duty was plain until he got power from on high. After these experiences he had times of the greatest happiness—his cup ran over, and he enjoyed sweet communion with God the Father and God the Son. At last, after serving in different parts of the world, he got home to Scotland, where, after paying a visit to his parents at Old Kilpatrick, he proceeded to Edinburgh Castle to join his regiment. He describes his fellow-soldiers as more like incarnate devils than men—they had been at war, seen its horrors, felt its privations, and were hardened in body and soul through their experiences. He did not know what to do; at last, he determined that he would perform his religious exercises silently. But it so happened that on Sabbath matters seemed to go beyond all bearable bounds, and, after listening to the disgraceful and sinful conduct of the soldiers, he rose, and putting on his great-coat, knelt in the middle of the barrack-room, and poured out his soul in prayer for his fellow soldiers. He continued praying until they became dumb, and a great peace reigned in the room for some time. His courage in the midst of such trials was strengthened by the Word of God, which said to him, “Be not afraid, but speak and hold not thy peace: for I am with thee and no man shall set on thee to hurt thee.”

Every conceivable attempt was made by these wicked and unreasonable men to get some occasion against him, but as the Lord had blessed him with two ears and only one tongue, he was “swift to hear, slow to speak.” One morning, without giving any reason, the adjutant whom he had twice previously remonstrated with for swearing put him into prison, but, as there was a hole in the wall, he began preaching to the soldiers, and soon gathered a great crowd around his prison. The commanding officer, who happened to be passing, gave orders that he should be released. Next morning he went out to the barrack square, and had a much larger congregation. The Perth militia were at this time in the Castle, and they turned out officers, non-commissioned officers, and privates to hear the earnest preacher. He was again sent to the “black hole” by the adjutant, but Major Rose, the commanding officer, gave orders that he should be released and brought before him. “Well, Robert, what is the reason,” he said, “that you have been twice a prisoner in the black hole?” “Please, your honour,” he replied, “before the parade drum beat the men met in troops, and were telling the wars they were at and the battles they had fought, and the victories they had won. I could have done the same, but I had better news to tell. If they took liberty to tell news about the world and the wars, will you not give me liberty to tell good news about heaven?” “Yes, Robert, you have my liberty,” said the major, before the adjutant and the whole regiment. He now waxed bolder, and was in the habit of conducting family worship in the barrack-room. On one of these occasions the gunner of the Castle came up behind him and delivered a cowardly and stunning blow that deprived him of his senses for a time. On returning to consciousness the men were crying out, “Shame! Shame!” and asked Flockhart to report him. But this he refused to do. Shortly after this the poor wretch took away his life. It was about this time Robert married, and as the married soldiers were allowed to have houses of their own, he in a way escaped from the trials of the barrack-room. His wife was a true helpmeet—a woman of prayer, and one who had obtained like precious faith. Shortly after this an order came that the unmarried men of the regiment be sent to Shetland. His adjutant now thought his opportunity had come. When orders were given for the unmarried men to slip out of the ranks, Flockhart stood still. “What, Flockhart, I thought your religion did not permit you to marry,” said the adjutant, with ill-concealed disappointment. “Marriage is honourable in all,” came the quick reply, “and the bed undefiled, but whoremongers and adulterers God will judge.” Turning on his heel in a temper, the disappointed adjutant gave vent to his feelings in the sentence, “Well, I have been in many parts of the world, but I never met any one that could beat me until I met Robert Flockhart, and he would beat the very devil.” He was now transferred to the Castle of Blackness, and while the soldiers were as wicked as ever, he was fortunate in having a godly officer. He set to preach to the people in the streets of Linlithgow until the magistrates reported him to his officer. The officer showed him the letter, but being of like mind with himself refused to interfere. For his officer’s sake, however, he refrained, but acting on the advice that he is a poor minister that cannot make the devil roar, he began preaching again.

On his return to Edinburgh he continued his practise of street-preaching, choosing the Grassmarket, where the Covenanter suffered, as the centre of his labours. It was while delivering a fervent address that Dr. Stewart, one of the city doctors, came up to him, and, trying his pulse, asked him to accompany him. As he had a great respect for Dr. Stewart, he willingly obeyed, and found himself in Morningside Asylum; here his head was shaved, and he was treated as a lunatic. His experience is best told in his own words—”Dr. Stewart,” he says, “sent a minister to see me, and he was a strange minister—he told me I should not read the Bible! I gave him a fright, so that he did not come again. The Bible, said I to him, is the only remedy God has provided to heal the afflicted mind, and to be my compass, to show me the road to Him. Christ is the way, and the Bible reveals Him in all His offices, names, and titles. He prevailed on the governor to take the Bible from me, which he did.” Flockhart now refused to take his meals until his Bible was restored. God’s word was more to him than his necessary food. At the end of the third day the governor got alarmed, and brought a strong man with him, fully determined that he would make the faithful soldier eat, but with all their efforts they failed. Then he consented to return the Bible, and, on asking a blessing and reading a chapter, Flockhart partook heartily of the food set before him. The governor threatened to take away the Bible again, but Flockhart made it plain to him that he would rather die than part with his Bible. He now made a successful attempt to get out of his enemies’ hands, and during the search that was made for him he lay concealed in his own house, carefully attended to by his beloved and pious wife. He was soon at his preaching again, with the result that Morningside again became his home for six months. The governor was now much more kindly disposed than formerly. While in Morningside Asylum his regiment was broken up, and each man received a pension of a shilling the day, but as he was returned as one deranged, a further allowance of threepence a day extra was allowed, in view of which he adds in his interesting autobiography, “What an advantage to be religious! All things work together for good to them that love God, to them that are the called according to His purpose.” But his enemies not only used the asylum to put him from preaching, but also the prison. During his street-preaching days he was nine times sent to prison for preaching the gospel. His time was spent in visiting the dying in hospitals and infirmaries, in praying with condemned criminals in their cells and seeking to lead them to that Saviour who had done so much for himself.

Such is a very brief outline of the life story of Robert Flockhart. He was a man undoubtedly of some eccentricity, but his warm love to Christ, his burning zeal in the midst of persecution and indifference, and his undoubted piety, reveal to us a type of Christian character rarely to be met with among those professing to be wise. He wrote an autobiography, which was edited and published by Dr. Guthrie. It is a valuable little book, telling of a life battle right nobly and loyally fought in the interest of the King eternal, immortal, and invisible. His was a career that was chequered, filled to the full with the strange vicissitudes of life; but it was a career in which the wise will see a guiding hand that brought the erring soldier to the feet of that Master whom he loved so dearly and served so well, and who made him more than conqueror at last. D. B.