STRATHY POINT.
DEAR FRIEND,—I received your very kind and welcome letter some time ago, which I might have answered before now. It is often difficult for me to write, because the truth is so dry to my soul. “Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness for they shall be filled.” But how little I hunger and thirst after righteousness! . . . It is very precious to walk in the light; in fact there is nothing so precious as to walk in the light. If a man is walking in the darkness of this world, it will not do very much for him to hear people speaking about light; he would rather see the day breaking. Yet in the long dark night it might comfort him a little to hear people telling about the beauty of the day. “One thing,” says the Psalmist, “I desire of the Lord and that will I seek after, that I may dwell in the house of the Lord.” He tells us what he would see there, even the beauty of the Lord. O for a heart that would desire no company like Jesus’; but my weariness in secret prayer proves how little I have of His fellowship. To walk in the light means a great deal. May the Lord grant His Church in this land such a walk, and may we be of the number! We have cause of thankfulness to the Lord for what He has done in raising a witness for Himself in this land. I think I can safely say that no man cares for the truth of God, except God be in him. I think that the reason why the truth is trampled on in this land is the very reason why the Lord was crucified. The apostle, when speaking of wisdom, says—”The wisdom which none of the princes of this world knew, for had they known it they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.” He that trampleth the word under foot, trampleth the Son of God under foot. It looks as if very few people in this land will stand on Jesus’ side, if the testimony to the truth will need to be sealed with blood. And, indeed, I am afraid of myself. When I consider my ignorance of the Lord, it makes me afraid. O how I would like to be such a soul as would have light for such a testimony! I mean that the witnesses will be few in comparison with the many that turn their back on Jesus. . . .
DONALD MACKAY.
STRATHY POINT, 8th May, 1895.
MY DEAR FRIEND,—I received your very kind and welcome letter a short time ago. I was glad you had such happy times at the Communion. I know not a greater thing for the remnant, who witness for Him in this generation, than that He would give his presence, and especially at such solemn ordinances. We are expecting to have the Communion here on the fourth Sabbath of this month. . . . How great is His goodness to them who walk in His ways; but, after all, how brutish I am, and how little I feel my brutishness! Do pray for me that He would be like a toe or a young hart, until the day break and the shadows flee away. For if He is mine, and if I am His, a day will break at death. And what a day will that be for them, when they will get full liberty in communion with the Father and with the Son Jesus Christ, and with the saints who were their brothers in tribulation. But may the Lord free me from dreaming of things like these, for a dream proves an empty thing when daylight breaketh. Now, pray for me that I may not be left to myself, for miserable is the man who is left to himself in speaking to sinners. O how precious and how good it would be for us, if our walk would be in the light of heaven, for he who walketh in the light knoweth where he goeth and what he doeth. With love to you and as many as love the Lord Jesus, though it is often my fear that I do not love Him myself.—I am, &c.,
DONALD MACKAY.
STRATHY HEAD, 21st May, 1897.
MY DEAR BROTHER,—Just a few lines as I expect to see you soon. I am still travelling in the mire, sometimes getting a breathing. I am not so strong this week as I was last week. Not that I mean to complain, for no man has a right to say, What doest Thou? But I have destroyed myself. I might well say:—
“My wounds do stink, and are corrupt;
My folly makes it so.
I troubled am and much bowed down;
All day I mourning go,
For a disease that loathsome is
So fills my loins with pain,
That in my weak and weary flesh
No soundness doth remain.”
And spiritual death is like a giant holding me, so that I cannot cry. I would count it a great mercy these times, if I would get a breathing so that I could open my mouth, and tell my needs. But just in writing this, I thought of its being a wonderful thing that He says, “When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue faileth for thirst, I the Lord will hear them.” I have long learned the lesson that to be carnally minded is death, but if a soul would have any hope of entering on the other lesson, and of spending eternity on it, he should rejoice even although he might have to spend a few days here learning the lesson that to be carnally minded is death, bitter though it is. Sometimes, though I walk in the midst of trouble, the word is sweet to my taste. It is like as if a heavenly breathing came in between my old man and my new man (if there be a new man). In that moment the soul loves the Truth and everything that is His in the measure it is enlightened in the knowledge of them. We are all going about. M— is afraid that she will not be able to be at the Communion; but it is written, “Be not faithless.”—I am, yours,
DONALD MACKAY.