THE following is the address, in full, which Mr. Scott delivered at Synod Meeting, regarding his congregation in Australia and the state of matters in that colony:—
Mr. Scott said that he felt it to be no ordinary providence that he was again in the home-land, and present in their Synod, at the end of another nine years. To him, at least, it meant very much to have been thus brought back to Scotland. In the interval changes had operated among them, both at home and in Australia. He remembered how, in his own congregation, he and others had followed them sympathetically in the crisis permitted to their Church when some of their brethren finally forsook them. In the far land they, too, had their fight of afflictions. Personally, as some of them knew, he had, in the mercy of God, been delivered with a great deliverance—having been taken from the very hands of death when “all hope that we should be saved was taken away.” Publicly, also, they had suffered in the lapsing of the Presbytery which he had represented on the occasion of his former visit. Instead of three ministers, as then, he and his congregation were, in the providence of God, left alone as representing the cause in New South Wales. Difficult as the situation had been to them previously, it had thereby been
intensified. They had, for example, the large or “Union” Church to contend with—the influence of which might be said to be adverse to all that was sacred or spiritual, as these terms were wont to be understood by them. It answered to the character of the United Free Church in Scotland. It was dominated by rationalism and worldliness. It was a Church, alas! whose weapons might be said to have become those of a kingdom other than Christ’s. They could understand in Scotland how demoralising such influence, in the name of religion, came to be, especially when it was, in a manner, universal—one church vying with the other in the sensationalism of its programme. Such vital questions as the sanctity of the Sabbath had to suffer in consequence, as was the case even at home. But their special testimony, as Free Presbyterians, had suffered from the prevailing party among themselves, by whom, in 1884, the more faithful ministers and elders had been summarily expelled from their membership in the Synod known as the Synod of Eastern Australia. That, of course, was before his own connection with Australia. But the cause had never rallied since. The consequent divisions and alienations had been such as the “Union” Church had been able to make great capital of in districts where Free Presbyterian influence, till then, had been paramount—notably on the Clarence River. His own congregation had been so cut asunder by the expulsion that, even with a Presbytery, they were some six hundred miles by sea and land from the nearest presbyterial fellowship. Nor could he say that, latterly, the tone of the prevailing, or expulsion, party had improved evangelically.* The local secular press recently taunted them with the nullity of their testimony on behalf of the Sabbath, wherein, like the larger Churches, they allowed their communicants even, to use the Sabbath trains and cars! Lukewarmness in such quarters regarding the very foundations of religion, reacted on his own people, and it might be said to reflect the spirit of compromise, significant of their policy generally. They had, even so, the advantage in more recent years of the practical support of the Victorian section (also now reduced to two ministers), notwithstanding that the Synod there had actually excommunicated the actors in the expulsion. The two parties were now, strange to say, (without Synodal purgation on either side) in close fellowship together, as well as confederated against his own position. But a toning down had taken place even in Victoria, in more than one direction. Their combined influence converged largely on the
* They claim to be a Synod, although now with only two settled pastors; but grave irregularities affect their constitution,—incident to their expulsion policy, and attendant events, which they yet refuse to have rectified. They mingle with surrounding Churches and are quietly learning their ways in such matters as Sales of Work, Socials, Burial Services, Omission of Sacramental Fasts, Open Communion, etc. They have allowed preachers to use other than the inspired Psalms in their public praise.
Clarence River towards weakening and undermining any separate testimony. In the circumstances their very existence as a congregation, only for an over-ruling providence, must have become untenable long ago. Yet he need hardly say that, with his convictions of truth and duty, to join the expulsion side, or those thus aiding them, was impossible. On the other hand, they had certainly had their encouragements. God had taken of the children instead of the fathers in their Zion amidst all the opposing influences. Men and women had become living epistles of Christ. Even financially, as the reports at their last congregational meeting had shown, their position at least compared favourably with what it had been at his induction to the charge fourteen years ago. For such elements he desired to thank the Lord. Throughout the district, moreover, God had enabled them to exert a recognised moral influence.
His only ministerial fellowship in Australia for the past few years had been with the Rev. A. Paul, St. Kilda, Victoria. To the Synod or the friends present Mr. Paul was no stranger. He had had to occupy a position in Victoria similar to his own in New South Wales, in his isolation from the prevailing party, with whose methods he was not in sympathy. Mr. Paul’s fellowship had been a strength to himself, as had also been that of Mr. S. Porter, elder, East Maitland, who had represented their cause in Presbytery or Synod for over thirty years, and who, for some years now, had been in the position of having to hold a meeting in his own house on the Sabbaths for all who came to him. (Acts xxviii. 30).
The outlook in the matter of a faithful or consistent testimony in Australia was dark in the extreme. His own congregation had a difficult position in his absence. In the interval he had sought to encourage them with pastoral letters and otherwise. He would gladly have furthered any endeavour to supply them from this Synod, in the event of his not returning, had such been possible. He had communicated with them in this interest, but from the indefiniteness of their reply, he had now nothing to report. He had sought to commit their case and his own to God.
Mr. Scott concluded by making reference to his prolonged visit to the northern counties, and the refreshing fellowship which he had thus enjoyed amongst our people.
Reducing Expenditure.—There come times when those who realise that it is a precept of their religion to live honestly with their fellows feel the necessity of reducing their expenditure. There are many little luxuries that can be easily given up without any loss and with the best advantage. But we ought to be on our guard when the call comes that our thoughts do not, in the first instance, turn to the contributions made to the cause of Christ, and that our efforts in economy do not begin there.
The late Mr. Angus Murray, Elder, Balloan, Dornoch.
(Continued from page 312.)
HE was truly a man of prayer. When we knew him first, we would not be long in his company till he would retire to the barn to pour out his heart before Him who had so enflamed his heart with His love in the days of his youth. Often, at the family altar, have we heard him as great upon the commendation of the love of Christ as on any season in public. At his own fireside he might be heard thus speaking of the state of the elect:—”The elect, through sin, were brought under the curse of Jehovah, and made liable to the flames of hell, like all the rest of the lost race; but when Christ, in the love of His sufferings, put Himself into the scales, He weighed them over to the side of the mercy of Jehovah. The love of the sufferings is founded upon the love of the Covenant, and the love of the Covenant is as extensive as all the attributes of Jehovah; and when the love of the sufferings came into the heart of Jehovah, the love of His mercy found a way to come forth to save the objects of His love. ‘Thine they were, and thou gavest them me. I gave myself for them. Deliver them from going down to the pit, for I have found a ransom.’ May the merits of the blood reach upon our souls. Amen.”
When family worship would be over, he would sit for hours, in the company of those that he loved, relating notes of the godly ministers and men whom he knew in his younger days. Dr. Macdonald he would describe as the strongest minister physically, with a very broad chest and a short neck, “and, boy, his voice would fill the air above. I once,” said he, “saw him serving five communion tables in Dornoch with sixty persons at every table. The last of the five was filled with young men and women under thirty years of age, who came over from Tarbatness. When they rose from the table, one would not get the size of a penny dry of the cloth that covered the table. What the Lord did with that youth of grace was to take them off to heaven ‘soft and warm’ as they were; for the cholera visited that district that same year.” At the time of an awakening, under the same he used to tell of a young girl, who was so deeply convicted of her sins and miseries that her reason temporarily failed her. She had to be bound by her father, who was a widower, and she his only child. In that condition she remained for the space of three years, during which time she had to be attended to by him. One day as he sat beside her lamenting her state, she called out to him, “Father, come and loose me from the ropes you have upon my body.” The sad father, understanding that her reason was restored, exclaimed, “Dear child, it was a dismal day for me when I had to put a rope on you,” and immediately he loosed her. Being loosed, she fell on her knees
and praised the Lord for revealing Himself to her soul, for loosing her from the bands of sin and Satan, and for restoring her reason. Thereupon she rose, washed herself and sat beside her father, and addressed him as follows: “I have been three years bound by sin and Satan, and with ropes on my body; but now I am loosed from the bands which held my soul in bondage, and from the ropes which held my body. Now that I am loosed, neither devils nor men will bind me again throughout the ages of eternity.” Hearing this, her father replied, “O daughter, is it not you that got the assurance in so short a time?” “Yes, father, when He told me a little ago that He had blotted out, as a thick cloud, my transgressions and, as a cloud, my sins, and that He would not be angry with me again. Is not that assurance? And although I was bound for three years, I will be in eternal liberty in three days.” Which so happened, for in three days, worn out in body, the dust returned to the dust, and the spirit returned unto God who gave it. One more note, as related by him, regarding Dr. Macdonald, which will serve as a foil to show what was referred to before concerning his physical strength. On one of his itinerating tours throughout the Highlands in connection with the Gospel, Dr. Macdonald lost his way on a trackless moor. As mist descended and night came on, he feared that he would have to spend the night upon the heath, but, as he was about to give up, he saw a light at a distance, to which he directed his steps. A strong-looking woman answered his knock at the door. The Doctor asked her if he would be allowed to spend the night under their roof, seeing that he had lost his way. “You may,” said she, “come in, but one will come shortly who will soon show you the door.” “I will,” replied the Doctor, “take my chance till he will come.” He thereupon seated himself on the rest which the old Highland homes afforded. No sooner was he seated than the sound of the feet of the one who was to tackle him was heard at the door. With a shout, he threw a burden, which proved to be a stag, off his back, and entered the house. The wife pointed to the bold stranger who had dared to trespass on the poacher’s solitude. The poacher at once demanded the stranger to remove. “I will not,” answered the stranger, “go out of this to-night.” “But I will,” said the poacher, collaring the stranger, “soon put you outside the door.” The stranger, seeing that he had to act in self-defence, also laid his hand on the poacher. The poacher took his turn, but did not move the stranger from his feet; but when the stranger took his turn the poacher was laid upon his back beside the fire, and the stranger placed his knee on his chest, saying, as he did so, “You will not get out of this till you promise never again to put a weary stranger out of your house.” The poacher, who felt enough of the grasp of the stranger, was only too glad to make such a promise, and was then allowed to his feet. When it was time to retire for the night the stranger took a Bible from his pocket and conducted family worship. When he went upon his
knees he kept a sharp ear, lest his combatant might spring upon him. But no, for he felt himself near enough to this unusual visitor, whose strength his body had felt, and whose ways his mind began to dread. After worship, the poacher and his wife retired to rest, leaving the stranger to shift for himself by the fireside. As morning dawned they arose, and when worship was conducted, the stranger asked him to show him the way to a certain place. But the poacher, who though overcome by muscular power, had his will unchanged, refused. The stranger, who knew, by divine teaching, that the love of money is in every heart, offered five shillings if he would do so, which offer the poacher eagerly grasped, and immediately guided the stranger across the moor to the scene of his labours. Arriving at the spot, he turned to the stranger, saying, “That is the place.” The stranger, handing him his wages, said, “There is a sermon to be preached here to-day; would you not wait to hear it?” The poacher, who was fonder of the money than of the sermon, answered, “No, I do not want your sermons,” and began to walk away. “Wait, man,” said the stranger, “and I will give you other five shillings.” This was too much for the poacher to refuse, and he therefore consented. When sermon time came, who entered the box but the stranger, who on the previous night proved too much for him. The stranger was not far on with his sermon, when an arrow from the Lord found its way between the joints of the harness wherewith Satan had hitherto clad this faithful servant of his. Now, finding the arrows of the Almighty sticking fast in his heart, he screamed, and ran out of the congregation. The preacher beckoned to the elders, telling them to go after that man and try to entice him to come back to hear the Word of God, but in no way to force him, as he knew too well the kind of man they would have to deal with. However, they got him back, and on that hillside, during all the days of the Communion, that untamed lion sweated under the terrors of the Lord. On Monday, Dr. Macdonald offered him his wages, which he refused, saying, “What I want is salvation to my immortal soul.” The Doctor did not happen to visit that place again for four years. As he came into the congregation, on the Friday of the Communion, four years after, who happened to be standing, Bible in hand, giving marks of the work of grace in the souls of God’s people, but the one with whom he had to use the strength of his arm in days gone by? Surely in him was fulfilled the Word of the Lord through the Prophet—”The lion shall eat straw like the ox.” Thus showing forth the work of the Lord, through his servants, would Angus Murray entertain his friends who frequented his house.
Another preacher he used to describe as the most melting law preacher he ever heard, was the Rev. Duncan Campbell, Kiltearn. On a Communion Monday at Edderton, Mr. Campbell preached from Matthew xxv. 46. “And, boy,” Angus used to say, “it was not weeping he was at all, but crying aloud, so that the rocks of Ross echoed, as he spoke of the wicked going away to everlasting
punishment. He appeared to have the day of judgment vividly before his mind. Every limb in his body moved, and the tears flowed from his eyes as he appealed to the Christless to take warning in time, lest this should be their lot when it would prove too late for them to seek the Lord.” The effect it had on our friend he used to put in the homely phrase—”It made my hair stand on end.” In after days he used to contrast that preacher with one who occupies a high position in another Church in Scotland, whom he also heard on the same text. Mr. Campbell “trembled and wept,” he would say, “as he spoke of the wicked being punished from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of His power; but the other was calm and unmoved as he preached us, his hearers, to everlasting punishment. After this I could never receive him as a preacher who felt for the state of his fellow sinners.”
In speaking of the “men” of his day, Angus would say that James Matheson, Clashnacrabh, was the greatest Christian whom he knew. The said James, while in his teens, was engaged, as was then known, as a “flunkey” with a well-to-do family in Tain. In those days such families had not the conveniences that the poorer have in our day, for they had to draw the water used for the Sabbath on the previous Saturday. But although that family conformed outwardly to the usual custom, yet one Sabbath they prevailed on their “flunkey” to go for a bucket of water, as they considered that the water they had in the house was rather unpleasant to their taste. James, who never did the like before, was reluctant to go, but not being changed by divine grace, he obeyed man rather than God. As he retired for the night, and tried to soothe himself to sleep, he felt as if the door opened and a person entered the room, who threw the bucket with its contents over him in the bed, uttering those words, “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.” With that his conscience awoke to a sense of his guilt in having openly transgressed the commandment of God by seeking to please a worm of the dust. That seemed to have been the first real conviction that James felt, and it gave him a sleepless night. In that state of mind he repaired to a godly woman with the inquiry of those pricked on the day of Pentecost—”Men and brethren, what must we do?” The woman, on hearing his story, advised him, if he should again engage with that family, that he would put it in his agreement that they would never again ask him to draw water on the Lord’s Day. But the Lord of Sabaoth had other thoughts about James; for before the term time came, the billows of the Lord were rolling so heavily at the noise of His waterspouts over the soul of the weary “flunkey,” that he had, like the prodigal, to return to his father’s house, and there, for many a day, the breach of the fourth commandment was making many a breach upon him, so that in his soul he was led to say, with another, “Call me Marah, for the Almighty hath dealt very bitterly with me.” In this, his dejection, he refused the common necessities of life; sleep departing from his eyelids with the fear that, if he did sleep, he would awaken in
hell. In that condition he continued for weeks and months, and, like Hezekiah, he did chatter “like a crane or a swallow,” and mourned sore “like a dove,” Satan buffeting him that his sins were so great that it was an utter impossibility that the Lord could come forth to show mercy to any in the generation in which he lived until he was off the earth. Many in our day may say that that was the language of one of a deranged mind. To such we would say that it was not a deranged mind, but that it was the work of God bringing a soul from the power of darkness unto the kingdom of His dear Son. And the marks of the furnace of affliction, into which he was cast for the breach of the fourth commandment, remained on him till his dying day, as the following incident will clearly show. As he walked on a Communion Sabbath to the place of worship, a conveyance overtook him. James, ever ready to speak a word in season, began to speak to those who were seated concerning the Sabbath. One of them, a minister’s wife, said, “Would you not allow me this much on the Sabbath Day?” To whom James gave the ready reply, “Ask the fourth Commandment, and if it will allow you, you need not care for what I say.” Some time before the train came to the North, James used to warn the people that the curse of God was coming on the land. And as soon as the talk about the Highland Railway being sanctioned to pass through, many wondered which way it would go. James went and pointed out the way it runs to this day, saying, “I saw the puffing of the ‘beast’ in connection with the breaking of the Lord’s Day, and that is the curse I spoke of as coming on the land.” As a protest against it, he never entered a train. For although he looked upon it as convenient to travel by, yet, owing to the fact that they would not rest on the Sabbath, he regarded it as a judgment from God that it was permitted. To him Angus Murray often resorted for advice and consolation. And to the end of his course he would feelingly relate what James acknowledged to know of himself as a lost sinner. “I never heard a preacher who declared or read a sermon which revealed the depth of the misery of my state, the depravity of my nature, and the subtlety and malice of Satan, as I was made know it in my own mind. But O that I could say that, when they began to speak of the liberty of the Gospel.” That did not mean that he was ignorant of the liberty of the Gospel; but he in his day was, like Jeremiah of old, one that cried out: “Oh that my head were waters and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people.” Thus Angus Murray, exalting the love and sufferings of Christ, and James Matheson, weeping over his own sins and the sins of the inhabitants of the land, “spake often one to another,” and is it too much to say that the Lord “hearkened and heard”? “Help, Lord, for the godly man ceaseth, for the faithful fail from among the children of men.”
(To be Continued.)
E. MACQ.