3. Last Days
Robert MacDougall
In many modern sermons there is no adequate expression of the evil of sin and no suitable acknowledgment of the believer’s indebtedness to free, sovereign grace. The old Highland divines resembled the English Puritans in their increasing acquaintance with the plague of their own hearts. They would readily echo the words of the prince of American theologians, Jonathan Edwards: “I have had a vastly greater sense of my own wickedness and the badness of my heart since my conversion than ever I had before. It has often appeared to me that, if God should mark iniquity against me, I should appear the very worst of all mankind of all that have been since the beginning of the world to this time, and that I should have by far the lowest place in hell.”
From such exercises of soul arose MacPhail’s ever-deepening humility. As he lay in weakness and suffering on his deathbed, he dreamed that he stood lonely and miserable outside the New Jerusalem, gazing wistfully at the closed gateway. Suddenly a cloud of witnesses appeared, among whom he recognised Noah, Abraham and other patriarchs. For them the shining gate opened wide, and they had an abundant entrance into the joy of their Lord. At once the gate was closed, and he was left outside, forlorn and wretched. Then he heard another procession. There they were before him: Moses, Samuel, David and the prophets. For them the gate swung open – amid rapturous melody they entered their Father’s house. Again the gate was closed, to open again for the apostles and early Christians and, at their welcome, the bells of the city rang for joy. But still the despairing dreamer was left outside.
Next the Reformation heroes, martyrs and confessors passed on triumphantly, but he did not share in their triumph. A fifth company pressed forward. He saw friends and acquaintances who slept in Jesus. But though they seemed to touch him with their shining garments as they passed, he could not venture to join them. The gate again was shut, leaving the trembling minister sinking into utter despair. But hark, the footsteps of a solitary pilgrim behind him! He looked up. It was Manasseh. Hope revived. He had barely strength enough to creep behind him. He knew that the gate had again opened, and as the glory of heaven flashed in his face and he heard the gate closing behind him, he awoke to find it a dream. It was the life-long sense of his utter unworthiness asserting itself strongly in this vision of the night.
1The final article in the series, reprinted with editing from The Free Presbyterian Magazine for March 1916. The previous article last month described some fruits of MacPhail’s work.
A like humility clothed the eminent Ronald Bayne, of Kiltarlity, near Inverness, whose successful ministry closed on 31 January 1821. “In his latter days,” writes John Kennedy, “Dr Bayne was in the habit of speaking his thoughts, so that one who was unaware beside him heard what was intended for no ears but his own. Standing at the window of his room one day, and thinking he was quite alone, one who happened to be present heard him repeating the words, ‘This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am chief’. After a pause he said, ‘Paul, what do you mean by saying you are the chief of sinners? Do you mean that you are of all sinners, in all ages, chief? If so, I cannot agree with you, for Ronald Bayne is a greater sinner than you were. But do you mean that you are chief of all the sinners who shall be saved? If so, then there is no hope for Ronald Bayne, for he is a greater sinner still. But if you mean, as I think you do, that each saved sinner regards himself as chief, then there is hope for Ronald Bayne, and you and he can both agree.'”
During the earlier part of 1774, MacPhail continued in extreme weakness of body, but strong in the faith, giving glory to God. On January 23 he entered into the joy of his Lord. Devout men carried his remains to the churchyard of Cullicudden in the upper end of Resolis, “and made great lamentation over him”. It was felt all over the North of Scotland that a prince and a great man had fallen in Israel. On the flagstone that covers his grave there is still legible the inscription: “Here lies the body of the holy man of God and faithful servant of Jesus Christ, Mr Hector MacPhail, minister of the gospel in this parish, who died 23rd January 1774, aged 58 years”.
Reference has been made in the first of these articles to James Calder, so often and so honourably associated with MacPhail. Calder was the grandson of Lilias Campbell, an eminent lady of the Covenant who with her husband suffered sore persecution for the cause of Christ. His father, John Calder of Cawdor, was eminently blessed in his brief ministry in the beginning of the eighteenth century. James Calder was every way worthy of his distinguished ancestors. In early life he became the subject of a remarkable work of divine grace. A very notable revival of religion took place during his earnest ministry at Croy, and his Diary, published from the original manuscript in 1875, gives evidence of the deepest and richest Christian experience, humility, prayerfulness and unwearied devotion to the cause of Christ. In the Diary there are frequent references to the high esteem in which he held MacPhail, who was in the habit of assisting him at communion seasons at Croy and of receiving similar help at Resolis in return.
Thus on Saturday, 6 July 1765, there is the entry: “This being the (communion) preparation day, worthy Mr MacPhail preached a most suitable,
seasonable sermon on John 3:16, ‘God so loved the world’. The Lord helped Him greatly. It fell to poor me to preach immediately after him; but I had so little to say after the great things that were declared that I was really ashamed to step up to His place; and yet the Lord was pleased to give some countenance to the most unworthy of all His servants and afforded some new things that I know were from Himself, and such things have been blessed by Him.”
Assisting at the communion in Resolis, Calder records of the Monday thanksgiving service: “Mr MacPhail preached one of the best sermons my ears ever heard from Titus 2:13, ‘Looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing . . .’. Thus the solemn work was brought to a happy and comfortable [comforting] conclusion, through the good hand of the Lord on us and with us.”
“7 January 1774. Heard today with sorrow that my very dear and worthy brother Mr Hector MacPhail was extremely low and weak in body, and not likely to live any time. Happy, inconceivably happy, will that change be to him, whatever time it comes. But O what a loss to his flock, his family, the Church, and to me! Help, Lord, for Jesus’ sake! Amen.”
“Sabbath evening, 23 [Jan]. When I began family worship this forenoon, with singing at the beginning of Psalm 103, in our ordinary course, I was very much impressed with it that my dear and heavenly brother Mr MacPhail had begun his everlasting song with Christ in Paradise. The impression became stronger in time of prayer, and upon retiring after worship I could not help breaking out into a flood of tears and sighs and plaints and sorrows, for my sweetest, dearest and most precious friend; not for himself, but for my own great and, in appearance, irreparable loss and for the loss of his family, flock and the Church of Christ; yet could not conclude absolutely that he was gone.”
“Tuesday, 25th. Received the mournful news of what was so strongly impressed on my anxious mind Sabbath morning, namely, the much-to-be lamented death of the most eminently pious, zealous, active, laborious minister of Christ I ever saw, and the most lovely image of his adorable Lord and Master that ever I was acquainted with. Alas, a brave standard-bearer, a great prince is fallen in Israel—a blank, a breach made on this declining Church, and in this poor corner in particular; the sorest, the most affecting I ever saw of the kind. ‘Help, Lord, for the godly man ceaseth; for the faithful fail from among the children of men.’ Lord, sanctify this mournful breach to his family and flock, to me, to mine, to all; and, Lord, repair it in due time, of Thy rich grace and infinite mercy. Amen. . . . O that the Lord would give me power and ability, as indeed He has given me will and inclination, to be a father to the children of the best of brothers, the best of friends, the best of
men. He was exceeding high in the sphere of grace below, and now he is exceeding high in the regions of glory. He will have many a jewel to adorn his pastoral crown, and to rejoice his honest heart.”
In less than two years James Calder followed his like-minded brother to the saints’ rest, joining sweetly a little before his departure in singing Psalm 138. His last words were, “He’s coming, He’s coming;” and when someone asked, “Who is coming?” he answered, “Precious Christ”.
In full confirmation of Calder’s high estimate of MacPhail’s apostolic character is the valuable contemporary testimony of Lachlan McLauchlan, teacher and catechist at Loch Ness-side. McLauchlan was born in 1729, was in early life brought to a saving knowledge of Christ, and was widely known as an eminent instructor of high mental endowments and great Christian experience. For MacPhail, whom he frequently heard, he entertained profound veneration, and at his lamented death poured out the pent-up grief of his bereaved heart in a Gaelic elegy of 228 lines.
The poem begins with the utterance of the deep and widespread sorrow that pervaded the Church in the North. It then gives a high-toned eulogy on MacPhail’s Christian and ministerial nobility of character. It tells of the fiery furnace of soul-anguish in which the evangelist was prepared to be the means of comforting the broken-hearted and dealing with distressed consciences. It declares that the brightest light of the North will no more shine in their communion gatherings, and asks if anyone knew any other minister whose labours were so abundantly blessed? “Of unsurpassed pulpit power, he was instant in season, out of season, seeking to benefit every soul that came within his reach. Distinguished by uncommon faithfulness in every department of his office, he was valiant for truth in Presbytery, Synod and General Assembly. How bright his crown!”
MacPhail was married twice. His first wife, the pious Elizabeth Balfour, died soon after the birth of her only child Isabel, in 1757. In October 1759, he married Anne Cuthbert, by whom he had four sons and three daughters: Jean, Paul, Magdalene, George, James, Elizabeth, William. James, born in 1766, became minister of the parish of Daviot, near Inverness, where he died on 1 July 1839. The youngest child, William, was under three years at his father’s death. He became assistant to the eminent John Erskine of Edinburgh, and was a preacher of distinguished ability. In November 1802, he received a unanimous call from the large and influential Scots Church of Rotterdam, where he long ministered with great acceptance. He refused repeated urgent invitations to become minister of the Scots Church in Amsterdam. On Wednesday, 20 July 1814, the day of thanksgiving for peace, William MacPhail preached an excellent sermon on 1 Samuel 12:24, which was afterwards
published, and was thus described by the famous Robert Hall: “It is an able, judicious performance, in some parts eloquent. It evinces a forcible mind.”