Meeting of Synod

THE Synod held its half-yearly meeting in St. Jude’s Hall, Glasgow, on Tuesday, November 11th, at 12 noon. Public worship began, and Mr. Macintyre, Glendale, the retiring Moderator, preached on Is. lii. 1, and then constituted the Court. There were present at the first meeting Revs. John R. Mackay, the Moderator, A. Macrae, E. Macqueen, J. S. Sinclair, A. Stewart, J. Robertson, and the Clerk—ministers, with Messrs. Bethune, Harris, Macdougall, Oban; and Macphail, Glasgow—elders. On the retiral of Mr. Macintyre from the chair, Mr. Robertson, Glasgow, was unanimously chosen Moderator for the ensuing year. After the usual formal business of the first sederunt, the Synod’s address to his Majesty King Edward and the Royal reply were read. (These appear in another part of this issue).

At the evening meeting there were present, in addition to those present at mid-day, Revs. D. Beaton, G. Mackay, and N. Cameron—ministers, with Mr. John Auld, Glasgow, and Mr. W. R. T. Sinclair, Edinburgh—elders. The opening devotions were conducted by the Moderator, and after the minutes were read, the business proceeded in accordance with the recommendations of the Committee on Bills and Overtures appointed at the first meeting.

Rev. Mr. Cameron, Glasgow, gave in a report of his Canadian journey (which appears elsewhere in this number). He laid before the Synod the request of our stations in Canada to be remembered next year. It was agreed upon that Mr. John R. Mackay, minister at Inverness, should be sent as our next deputy if his health permitted him going and the way was otherwise clear. As it is more suitable that the deputy should go in May or June than later on in the year it was thought advisable that Mr. Mackay should go early next summer, and that, in his absence, the Clerk of the Northern Presbytery should see to securing the supply of his pulpit. It was understood that, as in the case of Mr. Cameron, each minister who could should endeavour to give a day as Mr. Mackay’s substitute

Rev. Mr. Sinclair then reported to the Synod the measure of success he had met with as responsible for the supply of St. Jude’s during the three months of Mr. Cameron’s absence. Then the report of the advisory Committee appointed to act with Mr. Macfarlane in connection with Captain Maclean’s legacy was given in by Rev. J. R. Mackay. The Synod agreed to act on the Committee’s recommendation that this legacy should be set to the account of the Sustentation Fund, and that £10 should be added to the ordinary dividend for the half-year payable at the term to each of the ministers of the Church, and that certain sums should be given as supplement to some of the missionaries who were known to be in necessitous circumstances. The Committee was reappointed, consisting of Rev. Mr. Macfarlane, the Clerks of the Northern and Western Presbyteries, and Mr. Clunas, Treasurer, with power to arrange for the distribution of this fund at next Whitsunday.

The Theological Committee next presented its report. It made suggestions with regard to the education of our students, and these suggestions were favourably received. Apart from exceptional cases, it was recommended that our students should do their best to take the ordinary curriculum in Arts, and to finish it with graduation. As Hebrew is now an Arts subject, it was judged advisable that at least an elementary knowledge of the language should be acquired before the theological course is begun. Examiners and subjects for the entrance examination were appointed, and Mr. Macfarlane was chosen as examiner on the first half of the Confession of Faith, at the beginning of the second theological year. The Committee was reappointed.

Mr. Sinclair then brought before the Synod the following resolution, which was seconded by Mr. Macqueen and unanimously adopted:—”The Synod record their deep sorrow at the painful death of Mr. John Kensit, the well-known witness for Protestant truth in the Church of England. They have followed Mr. Kensit’s career with much interest and appreciation, and feel that his removal at a comparatively early age is a great loss to the Protestant cause. They are persuaded, however, that Mr. Kensit has died a martyr to the cause of truth, and trust that God, in his wise providence, may overrule this sad event to the furtherance of the interests Mr. Kensit had so much at heart. They extend their deepest sympathies to Mrs. Kensit, Mr. John A. Kensit, and the other members of the family, and appoint that a copy of this resolution be sent to Mrs. Kensit.”

The next subject of consideration was the action that the Synod should take with regard to the Education Bill at present before Parliament. Mr. Mackay, Inverness, moved, and Mr. Stewart, Oban, seconded, the following resolution, which became the unanimous finding of the Synod, and which the Clerk was instructed to forward to the Prime Minister and the leader of the Opposition:—”The Synod strongly protest against the Education Bill (England and Wales) at present before Parliament. They consider that its

provisions, if carried into effect, are not likely to further the real educational interests of the country, and they specially base their opposition to it on the ground that it is justly chargeable with pandering to the exclusive sacerdotal claims of Roman Catholics and Ritualists, and therefore is certain to prove injurious to the highest interests of the realm.”

The matter of Sabbath desecration was the next taken up. The Moderator spoke from the chair in connection with this subject. He particularly referred to the recent opening of a picture gallery in Glasgow, and on the motion of Mr. Macrae, seconded by Mr. Macqueen, the Moderator and Mr. Sinclair, as they are resident in Glasgow, were asked to communicate with the directors of the gallery, and to protest against their action. The Presbyteries were instructed to use their diligence in protesting against Sabbath breaking within their bounds.

The case of Mr. John Macrae, Plocton, then came before the Synod, when it was agreed that he should be paid at the rate of £28 per annum. During the discussion on the above it was pointed out that it is not within the power of a Presbytery to appoint a missionary. Rev. Mr. Mackay, Inverness, in the name of the Northern Presbytery, asked the Synod’s sanction to the appointment of Mr. Donald MacKenzie as a missionary of the Church, which request was granted.

The appeal from the Northern Presbytery against the decision of the Western Presbytery in refusing to put the call from the combined congregation of Dornoch, Rogart, Lairg, and Creich into Rev. Ewen Macqueen’s hands came on for discussion. Parties being removed from the bar, it was moved by Rev. A. Stewart and seconded by Rev. Mr. Sinclair that, owing to the Western Presbytery having become (temporarily) defunct, the case could not be further proceeded with at present and that it be referred to next meeting of Synod. This was unanimously agreed to. Parties being called and the decision intimated, Rev. J. R. Mackay expressed his opinion that such a decision would not likely meet with the approval of the Sutherland people, who had been looking forward to having Mr. MacQueen with them. The Rev. George Mackay hoped that it would be most distinctly understood that the fact that a sufficient number of members of last meeting of Presbytery did not turn up to form a quorum was by no means premeditated by any of the members of the Western Presbytery. Rev. Mr. MacQueen expressed the hope that no one would think that an incident had been planned and that he had been privy to it.

Mr. MacNeilage, publisher of “The Free Presbyterian Magazine,” then presented the financial statement of the same. It showed that the Magazine was able to pay itself. The Synod expressed their thanks to Mr. MacNeilage as publisher, and Rev. James S. Sinclair as editor, for their labours in connection with the publishing and editing of the Magazine.

The question of deputies to the East Coast fishing then was discussed. It was agreed that the Rev. George Mackay, assisted by a missionary, should give eight weeks to this work at Lerwick, Peterhead, and Fraserburgh.

The following tribute to the memory of the Rev. Mr. MacDonald, Sheildaig, was read and heartily approved of:

THE LATE REV. D. MACDONALD, SHEILDAIG.

The Synod desire to record their deep sense of the great loss sustained by the Free Presbyterian Church of Scotland in the removal by death of the Rev. Donald Macdonald, minister of Sheildaig, Ross-shire, which took place on 20th August, 1901.

Mr. Macdonald was born in Langash, in the parish of North Uist. In early life he became the subject of deep spiritual impressions, especially about the age of eighteen years, when his whole soul was aroused to the realisation of his awful condition as a guilty sinner before God. That eminent servant of Christ, the Rev. Alexander Macintyre, was God’s messenger to him, as well as to many others at that time in North Uist and Benbecula. The deep insight given to Mr. Macdonald at that time into man’s total depravity by nature, and the awfulness of being under the curse of the moral law and on the way to perdition, remained with him to the end. But deep as he felt his lost condition both by nature and practice to be, and the utter uselessness of all efforts put forth by fallen man to meet the requirements of the holy law of God, equally deep was his insight into the way of salvation through Christ crucified. His whole soul, from the time in which he was made willing in the day of the power of the Holy Ghost to look to Christ by faith, was almost constantly absorbed in contemplating the love of God—Father, Son, and Holy Ghost—as that love is manifested in the scheme of redemption. This continued till the termination of his life. This was his daily, yea hourly, song in the house of his pilgrimage. From the dawn of this light of life upon his soul in early youth till his old age it continued to be the sum and substance of his message to his fellow-sinners. He felt that much was forgiven him, therefore he loved much. In this his first love, while his soul was on fire with the love of Christ, and with a sense of his deep obligation to Him who saved him from the wrath to come, he resolved to study with a view to the ministry of the Gospel. This resolution was often sorely tried before the end of his college studies was reached; but being sustained by the grace of God, and urgently pressed by godly friends both in Edinburgh and Glasgow to proceed with his studies, he persevered until the end. While passing through his college course he taught a school during the vacation each year. He also kept religious meetings among the people, which were blessed for the comforting of the Lord’s people, and left lasting convictions in the consciences of some of the careless. He was an ordinary good student, and got smoothly through all his examinations. Not long after he

finished his divinity course he was by the Free Church Presbytery of Skye licensed to preach the Gospel. While a probationer he preached for some time in the islands of Mull and Eigg. In the year 1872 the congregation of Shieldaig gave him a call, which he accepted, believing it to be from the Lord. When he came there, there was neither church to preach in nor manse to dwell in, consequently he had to live for some time in a rented house in the village of Shieldaig and to preach both in summer and winter on the hillside. After several years a substantial house and church were erected.

In the year 1893, along with the Rev. D. Macfarlane, he separated from the party who, in the name of the Free Church, had departed from the doctrines and principles of the Confession of Faith. His congregation, with few exceptions, followed him. That same year he was thrust out of his manse and church, had to go to live in a house which one of his own people kindly put at his disposal, and had, in his old age, to go again to the hillside to preach to his attached people. The proprietor, Mr. Murray, as well as his lady, showed him the greatest kindness and consideration, for which not only Mr. Macdonald but the whole Church felt very thankful to them. Up to this date he was not much known throughout the Church, but now, throwing his whole energy into the work which lay before a few faithful ministers, he soon became well known both in the north and south. He was greatly beloved and much admired by all our congregations. Indeed the year 1893 was like life to the dead to the Lord’s people amongst us, and Mr. Macdonald, as was observed by many who knew and admired him before, got a new baptism of the Holy Spirit. He was not only refreshed in his soul, but he also got more bodily strength and power of enduring fatigue than he ever had before. His preaching against sin became more vigorous, and his views got more enlarged about the glory of Christ as the Head and King of His own Church, and as the King of kings and Lord of lords. To him indeed to live was Christ and to die was gain.

Through the kindness of friends he soon collected money sufficient to build a church—his kind friend, Mr. Murray, granted him a site for a church and manse—and by a private arrangement between him and the Synod of our Church, the manse was built at the same time. He lived again comfortably, having a commodious church and comfortable manse, among his beloved people till his work on earth was finished. In the year 1900 he visited most of our congregations in the north in his usual active and cheerful manner, to the great comfort and delight of our people. After he returned home, about the end of July, his bodily health began to decline, and though he endeavoured to appear in his own pulpit as often as his weak condition allowed, he never recuperated enough to go much from home. During this period he enjoyed much of the presence of the Lord, a favour which continued to be vouch-

safed to him till his end came. His end, according to the report of one of our ministers who was privileged to be present, was indeed the end of the righteous. Thus died the beloved servant of Jesus Christ in perfect peace—”Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace.” His remains were interred at Applecross, where they await a glorious resurrection on the last day. To that place as many of his beloved congregation as could get boat accommodation followed his remains. A great many friends came long distances in order to be present to pay their last tribute of respect to his mortal remains. As many as found it possible of the ministers of our Church were present. All felt that a great man had fallen in Israel.

The Synod desire to express their deep sympathy with his faithful congregation, and their hope that the truths which their beloved pastor declared so faithfully among them may bring forth fruit in their souls, to the glory of God and their eternal good. With Mr. Macdonald’s widow the Synod deeply sympathise, and commend her to God and to the word of His grace. It is felt by us all that a most devoted servant of Christ and of His Church, a most true friend but not a flatterer, a man that faithfully preached law and Gospel, and a man upon whom the Spirit of grace and supplication rested to an unusual degree, has passed away from our midst. May the Lord enable us all to emulate him who now enherits the promise: “Be thou faithful unto death and I will give thee a crown of life.”

It was agreed to send a copy of the above to Mrs. Macdonald.

Rev. J. R. Mackay asked the Synod for the grant of £10 to buy books in connection with his work as a tutor, which would form the nucleus of a college library. This was agreed to.

Rev. George Mackay made reference to the case of Mr. Morrison, student at present studying at Gordon’s College, Aberdeen. It was agreed to grant him £10.

Rev. J. R. Mackay moved that Mr. Donald Graham, missionary Lochinver, be accepted by the Synod as a student of divinity. After a somewhat lengthy discussion the Synod came to the following finding:—The Synod has pleasure in allowing Mr. Graham to go to Inverness for the winter, but it comes under no obligation to say what is his status, and, while not seeking to discourage him, it would point out that the general practice of the Church in such cases has been that one is not licensed until he receive a call for a congregation.

Rev. Mr. MacIntyre called the attention of the Synod to the mission station at Claddach. It was agreed to ask Mr. Alex. Ross to supply this place. The Synod agreed to meet at Inverness, on Tuesday after the first Sabbath in July, at 12 noon. The proceedings concluded with the singing of Psalm cxxii. and the benediction.

A Sermon

By the Rev. GEORGE HUTCHESON, an Eminent Divine
to the Covenaning Period.¹

“Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord.”—Ps. cxxx. 1.

HAVING a purpose (if the Lord will) to go through this Psalm, I shall speak somewhat in a brief word to the title of it. It is called “A Song of Degrees,” a title that is common to fifteen Psalms in this Book, from the 120th to the 134th inclusive, and the importance of this title is not easily condescended upon. Popish writers would from this make up fifteen degrees of virtues, each of them still above another, whereby a sinner breathes for redemption by Christ, from a state of sin and misery, and ascendeth to heaven; but this necessitates them to strain their wits, and to put these Psalms on a rack, to find out the distinction of these virtues, and therefore we shall leave it. The Hebrew word rendered “degrees” leads us to somewhat more certain, yet not demonstrative: that these Psalms may be called songs of degrees—1. Upon the account of the way of singing them, the voice in singing them being raised to an high key, as 2 Chron. xx., where it is said the Levites stood up to praise the Lord God of Israel, with a loud voice on high. It is the same word used here for degrees. 2. There is a reason why these Psalms were to be sung with a loud voice; a song of degrees may signify a most excellent song, or a song which in excellency surmounts other songs: and so the word is applied to a man of excellency (1 Chron. xvii. 27): “Thou hast regarded me according to a man of high degree, or a man of excellency, O Lord”; and so these Psalms may be called songs of degrees, because they are most excellent, for the sweet, grave, and pithy sentences they contain. 3. They may be called songs of degrees upon the account of the place where these excellent songs were to be sung, with an high voice. The Chaldee paraphrast says they were to be sung upon the degrees, or stairs, whereby they went up to the Temple, or rather, whereby they went up to Mount Sion, the City of David, one of which fifteen Psalms was to be sung on every step of these stairs. And others will have them to be sung in the several mansions of the people that came from the Babylonish captivity, for so we find the word rendered, Ezra vii. 9. These things I only name, and pass them; and I might add one conjecture more: when I consider the affinity that is betwixt the word degrees rendered, and the original that signifies

¹ This sermon is the first of a series of forty-five on the cxxx. Psalm preached by Mr. Hutcheson at Irvine, where he died in 1674. The sermons are from the pen of a hearer. Mr. Hutcheson was a truly able and savoury divine, and his works are still much sought after. See note in another column.—Ed.

burnt-offering or sacrifice, I incline to think that these songs were sung by the Priests and Levites about the altar, while they offered these burnt-offerings or sacrifices.

Having thus briefly spoken to the title, there are other general notes common to this with other Psalms that might be insisted on, which I also pass.

For the penman of the Psalms, he is not designed; nor is it needful to enquire who he was, since the Psalm hath its authority from the Spirit of God, and not from man. It is most like to be a Psalm of David, or that David was the penman, for these doubled expressions (ver. 2) of this Psalm are used by him in Psalms liv., lv., and lxi., and many others.

For the particular difficulty to which this Psalm relates, it is not needful to determine what it was. It may suffice for us taking up the scope of the Psalm in general that the Psalmist is in a distress, and being in a distress ye will find him first wrestling, and then, secondly, victorious.

For the first, his wrestling; ye shall take it up in three branches.

1. Ye will find him wrestling with plunging difficulties and perplexities, and these he expresseth under the term of “depths,” and the way he takes to win out of them is wrestling by prayer (ver. 1, 2).

2. Ye will find him wrestling with the sense and conscience of guilt, putting back his prayer, and offering to crush his hopes; and this he wrestleth with by claiming to pardon (ver. 3, 4).

3. Ye will find him wrestling with delays to his answer of prayers, or delays of the outgate prayed for; and this he wrestleth with by patience and hope (ver. 5, 6).

Again, in the last two verses ye have him victorious; for having gotten an issue he hoards it not up, he does not conceal it, but he brings it forth and improves it for the use of the people of God, whom he encourageth to hope in God, upon the account of mercy, and pardon, and plenteous redemption, and on the account of His redeeming Israel from all his iniquities.

So much for the scope and partition of the Psalm.

To return to the first two verses, upon which I may be the more brief that I had occasion to speak to you before of the troubles and trials of God’s people, of prayer, and God’s answering prayer; yet we shall not pass this part, but we shall endeavour to gather some things useful from it.

In this his wrestling, then, take notice of these four things:

1. Ye have that that the Psalmist was put to wrestle with, which is expressed under the name of “depths.”

2. The way of his wrestling therewith; out of the depths he cried, “Out of the depths have I cried.”

3. Ye have him reflecting on this his practice; he takes a back look of it, and he avows it before God, “Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord.”

4. Ye have the prosecution of this his wrestlings, or his pleading for audience in a new and doubled suit (ver. 2), “Lord, hear my voice: let thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications.”

For the first of these, the depths out of which he cried: I cannot accord to understand it thus, that he prayed from the depths or bottom of his heart. So the commentators I spoke of before understand it of that degree of virtue which is profound prayer, from the inward parts or bottom of the heart. There is a truth in that I confess, that prayer should come from the bottom of the heart, and in prayer we should write our hearts on our tongues; but I find it not a Scripture phrase, that people are said to pray from the heart when they cry out of the depths. Neither can I understand it of the conscience of sin only, that, as some would understand it, he is under a deep of despair upon the account of guilt that he speaks of (ver. 3, 4), and hath a promise of redemption from ver. 8. The word is depths in the plural number, and therefore it is safest to understand it, more generally of plunging and sinking pificulties, both outward, trouble and inward perplexity resulting thereon, and of the conscience of guilt wakened up in trouble that may come in under these depths; and this interpretation agrees best with the current of Scripture, where we find the horrible pit, the miry clay, depths, deep waters, water-floods, made use of to hold out great troubles, as in Psalms xl. 2, xlii. 7, lxxix. 2, 14, 15.

I shall here touch upon one observation, that not only the visible Church, but even the truly godly, may be brought under plunging difficulties and perplexities, both inward and outward, to their great sinking, or at least their apparent sinking. They may be, and are very often, in the depths, and put to their prayers in the depths; so it was with the Psalmist here, and in those Psalms formerly cited. And in prosecution of this point—

1. I shall first speak a little to the metaphor of deep or depths.

2. How it comes to pass that the Lord’s people are brought to these depths.

3. To a word of use.

First, for the metaphor of deep or depths, I shall shortly offer what I conceive is the import thereof in these four:

Firstly, that which is a deep is a thing very dark. Dig a pit and make it deep, the light of the day cannot penetrate into it. Thus the unintelligible mysteries of seducers are called depths, as in Rev. ii. 24, the depths of Satan spoken of. Thus also the wise counsels of God, that men cannot indagate,¹ are called depths (Ps. xcii. 5), “Thy thoughts are very deep”; and 1 Cor. ii. 10, “The Spirit searcheth all things, yea, the deep things of God.” And thus, also, in Ezek. iii. 6, a people of a strange speech and

¹ Fathom.

of a hard language, whose words the people could not understand, are spoken of; in the original it is a people of a deep lip. Deepness then imports darkness, unintelligibleness, that which is mysterious. And that this notion is not strained even in this case of trouble, is clear from Heman’s lament (Ps. lxxxviii. 6), “Thou hast laid me (saith he) in the lowest pit, in darkness, in the deeps,” where to be in darkness and in the deeps are expressed as synonymous, or one and the same. And truly this is ordinarily incident to the people of God; their deep trials are in themselves so dark, and in their effects so astonishing, that they are often at a stand to know what God says to them by them, and hence are these “wherefores” and “whys” as to this or that which is come upon them; as also in reference to their duty, as Jehosophat expresseth his distress (2 Chr. xx. 12), “Lord, we know not what to do.”

But, secondly, this metaphor of a deep or depths, as it imports that which is dark and unintelligible, so it imports that out of which it is not easy to get up. Cast a man upon the ground he may easily get up, but cast him in a deep pit he can hardly get up out of it without help. Some emblem we have of this in Jeremiah xxxviii., where he is put into the dungeon where there was no water, but mire, and he sunk in the mire; Ebedmelech had a hard task to get him up. And the people of God their troubles may be depths on that account; refuge may fail them, no man caring for their soul (Ps. cxlii. 4); all hope that they shall be saved taken away, as it is said by Paul in that voyage (Acts xxvii. 20); all their expectations of an outgate may be crushed, as Jer. xiv. 19, “Why has thou smitten us, and there is no healing for us? We looked for peace, and there is no good; and for the time of healing, and behold trouble”: yea, all their endeavours to extricate themselves out of trouble may be frustrate, Jer. viii., “When I would comfort myself against sorrow, my heart is faint in me;” and Job ix. 27, 28, “If I say, I will forget my complaint, I will leave off my heaviness and comfort myself, I am afraid of all my sorrows.”

But, thirdly, this metaphor of a deep or depths imports not only that which is dark and hard to get out of, but that which appears ruining. Put a man into a deep pit, if he get none to help him out of it he must starve and ruin; as Ebedmelech said to the king, They have put Jeremiah into the dungeon, and he will die for hunger in the place where he is (Jer. xxxviii. 9). Put a man in a pit where there is deep water, he will drown if he be not taken out. So the people of God; their trouble may be such as not only all ground of hope of outgate may be taken away, but all hope of issue may be accompanied with apparent present ruin. David is put to a humbling posture when he is put to that (Ps. lxxix. 15), “Let not the water-flood overflow me, neither let the deep swallow me up, and let not the pit shut her mouth upon me.”

But, fourthly, the metaphor of depths in the plural number

imports a plurality of them; a multitude of these depths, dark, hard, hopeless, ruining postures, trysting all together on a child of God, that his sad lot may be like that of the Church (Lam. ii. 22). “Thou hast called as in a solemn day, my terrors round about.” There is a convocation of them, one trouble seldom comes its alone upon the people of God; as one wave uses not to come its alone to beat upon the shore, but trial upon trial, wave upon wave, one depth calling upon another depth, till their trial be perfected.

More particularly, the plurality of these depths may be taken up in these steps:

Firstly. Their outward trouble may be attended with other visible disadvantages; for when a man is under trouble, then ordinarily he is in contempt (Job xii. 5): “He that is ready to slip with his feet is a lamp despised,” as a dying-out snuff in the thought of him that is at ease. Hence (Heb. xii. 2) it is said, “Christ endured the cross, despising the shame.” The cross and shame, the cross and ignominy, go hand in hand. It is not enough to be in affliction, but thou must be content to be reproached and counted a fool; yea, not only doth outward trouble and contempt go ordinarily together, but outward affliction and slighting from near relations, which is a load above a burden (Ps. xxxi. 11): “My lovers and friends stood aloof from my sore, and my kinsmen stood afar off”; (Ps. lxxxviii. 8, 18), “Lover and friend hast thou put far from me, and my acquaintance into darkness.”

Secondly. It comes to the depths with the people of God on this account: that great outward trouble readily wakens the conscience of guilt, as we see of Joseph’s brethren when they were put into prison (Gen xlii. 41): “They said one to another, We are very guilty concerning our brother, in that we saw the anguish of his soul when he besought us, and we would not hear: therefore is this distress come upon us.” Yea, outward trouble, and conscience of guilt under it wakened, may break the peace of the mind, and that adds to these depths. “The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity, but a wounded spirit who can bear?” That is deep upon deep; trouble and guilt, trouble and broken mind, turns to be the greatest burden.

And thirdly. It may come to depths with the people of God on this account: that when once the mind is broken, there is no need of many real crosses. The imagination can no sooner hatch an apprehension, but the mind will make it a cross; and then so many apprehensions, so many depths, are created. And thus ye have some sort of account of the importance of this metaphor, a depth, or depths.

I proceed to the second thing, being to name a few considerations for clearing how it comes to be thus with the people of God, that they are brought into these depths. I shall name but

a few, having been long in breaking in upon this purpose, which will save me a labour afterward.

And 1. Take this consideration in general: the folly of the people of God puts them to this posture. That is one (Ps. xxxviii. 8): “There is no soundness in my flesh, because of thine anger; neither is there any rest in my bones, because of my sin”; and v. 5, “My wounds stink and are corrupt, because of my foolishness.” Whatsoever there may be of a trial of faith in their trouble, sin is at the door at which their troubles, particularly their overwhelming troubles, enter in.

But 2. Because the people of God may sometimes, through mercy, be kept from gross outbreaks, therefore consider that even the ordinary and habitual faults of the people of God will provoke Him to put them in these depths. I shall instance but in these two faults. First, the ordinary fault of negligence in doing duty, I do not say of neglecting duty; custom and conscience may keep them at duty, but ordinary negligence in doing duty hath need of a rousing douk in a depth, to set them to their feet. If the Psalmist cried out of the depths, and the poor speaks supplications as he doth (v. 2), it intimates there is little crying, little humiliation, in ordinary diligence; therefore He sends to the depths to put an edge upon folk’s diligence, and to teach them to say their prayers in earnest. And second, fault in ordinary is the neglect of ordinary needy dependence upon God in all things, the neglect of going through the wilderness “leaning on the beloved”; a small fault as ye would think, but sad in a Christian life to live in this neglect. Hence the apostle (2 Cor. i. 8, 9) saith: “We were pressed out of measure above strength, inasmuch that we despaired even of life: we had the sentence of death in ourselves.” And for what end? To learn us dependence, that we should not trust in ourselves, “but in God, who raiseth the dead.”

And 3. Whereas it might be thought that such faults as these, and grosser, are passed in many others, I shall add, that the Lord’s near relation with his people will not let them win away with their faults, win away who will (Amos iii. 2): “You only have I known of all the families of the earth, therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities”; or, as it is in the original, “I will visit upon you your sins.” His people will not want the rod when their faults call for it, want who will.

1. Consider there is this to be looked upon as a cause of putting His people in the depths, to wit, His purposes of love to His people. And His allowances upon His people are so rich that there is need of preparations, by trial and afflictions, to make them capable of them; for were they not put into the depths they could not be capable of them. Hence it is Paul’s remark in the forecited place (x Cor. i. 4, 5). God “comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them who are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves

are comforted of God. For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ.” We might not want these depths of tribulation, because without them we could not be capable of the consolations we receive from Christ.

And 5. To add no more, we may take notice of somewhat in the saints’ tenderness above others that occasion these depths. Many folks may be under as great trouble that are not so plunged and perplexed with it as they are. Many a man has been tossed as David was by Saul who have not expressed their resentments as he did. How is that? The tender-spiritedness that is in the people of God occasions their trouble of mind; they see God in their afflictions, and they would fain see more of Him and of His mind as to their duty; and this makes affliction take a deeper stamp and impression on them, and to draw blood of them more than it doth on an unsubdued spirit, who hath no mind of God or Providence, but hath only the outward trouble to grapple with. Thus we see how it comes to pass that the people of God are put in the depths.

For the third thing I proposed to be spoken to, that is, the use of the doctrine, the whole observations to be gathered from the two following verses are instructions how to improve such a lot, and consequently uses of the point in hand. Therefore, I shall content myself to hint briefly at three general words here:

1. From what has been said, ye would learn to be more jealous of a crossless life, of a life without trouble and exercise. Why? It speaks little of soul-thriving in the life of God. Take notice of that word (Ps. lv. 19) spoken of the wicked, “because they have no changes, therefore they fear not God”: and that spoken of Moab (Jer. xlviij. 11), “Moab hath been at ease from his youth, and hath settled on his lees, and hath not been emptied from vessel to vessel, neither hath he gone into captivity; therefore his taste remained in him, and his scent is not changed, and he rests on his lees.” And as a crossless life speaks little thriving in the life of grace, so it speaks to very many little of God’s love and care. There is a sort of indignation kythed¹ against sinners that they little notice, and wherein there is a snare when they get leave to go on in sin and meet not with a cross: when a person will not deinze² one that is going wrong with a reproof, it speaks hatred. So that is a sad word from God (Ezek. iii. 26): “Thou shalt not be a reprover to them, for they are a rebellious house”; and that word (Hos. iv. 17), “Ephraim is joined to idols, let him alone,” that is a sad dispensation. A douk to the hazard of drowning in the depths is better company.

2. From this ye would be cautioned not to mistake the sad exercises of the people of God, whose lot in ordinary is outward troubles; they get ordinarily the stakes to keep. And to mark it in

¹ Shown.

² Condescend; to give.

the by, I wonder what a mistake is befallen us, or rather a distraction is come upon us, that we should stumble at the people of God their want of prosperity. Look to the frame of the people of God; they are in ordinary broken folk. Others can bear their afflictions with a sort of gallantry; they can drink them down, rant them down. But they are broken with their affliction, as if they had no spirit at all to bear them. But I say ye would not mistake, for it is a token of God’s love and care, who douks them in the depths, to put them, out of the depths to cry unto Him; and it is a more blessed posture to be put, out of the depths to cry, than to be in a palace with neglect of prayer. And therefore I call it no better than a distraction to stumble at their want of prosperity; they are the folk that faint and have no might, and yet they will lay by the young men and the youths for all their ranting; because they wait upon the Lord, “they shall renew their strength” (Isa. xl. 29). This I speak, not to foster discouragement in any, but to caution them that are ready to stumble at the people of God their being in trouble, and broken in that condition.

1. And a third word of use shall be, that every one that is in the depths would try how they improve that lot; and this use is the key to open the door to the following purpose, which I shall not now break in upon. Only remember, “The Lord doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men, to crush under his feet all the prisoners of the earth.” Therefore there must be something that, in affliction, when we are in the depths, He is calling us to, and which we would ply to in earnest. And therefore we would take heed that the bellows be not burnt, that the Founder do not melt in vain, and that we provoke not God to call us “reprobate silver, whom he hath rejected” (Jer. vi. 29, 30).

Report of the Synod’s Deputies to Canada.

MODERATOR AND BRETHREN,—At the November meeting of our Synod last year a petition came before us, signed by forty-nine individuals representing people in several districts in the Province of Ontario, Canada, praying the Synod (1) to receive them as a part of our mission field, and (2) to send one of our ministers to dispense the ordinances of the Gospel among them. In that petition they stated that they were homologating our ecclesiastical position as a Church. The two prayers of that petition were granted by our Synod. At that meeting the Rev. J. R. Mackay magnanimously volunteered to go as our first deputy to them, and a committee was set apart to see his pulpit supplied during his absence. But in the inscrutable providence of God our worthy brother passed through severe bodily and mental trials during the winter, so that in the month of March he made it known that he could not go. In these

circumstances, and being urged by Mr. Mackay and some of the rest of my brethren, I volunteered to go. To this I was urged the more in my own mind, because my bowels yearned over our dear fellow-countrymen there who proved so faithful, and who were scattered like sheep having no shepherd. At the meeting of our Synod last July I was deputed to go, and you very considerately sent our worthy brother, Mr. Allan M’Lachlan, one of our elders, along with me as an assessor. At the same time a resolution was passed unanimously by the Synod authorising the treasurer of the Church to defray out of the Organisation Fund such of our expenses as might not be met by our friends in Canada. A committee was also appointed to supply St. Jude’s pulpit during my absence. The time you gave me was eight Sabbaths for work among them, and the four needed on the voyages going and coming back. Immediately we began to prepare for the journey, and by the good hand of the Lord with us we arrived at Seaforth on the 5th of August, and our worthy friend, Mr. Daniel Clark, met us there—the first we saw of our friends and also the last, as he never parted with us till we came away.

Here it may be necessary to point out a few facts to show cause why our beloved friends there should hold a position separate from the Presbyterian Church in Canada. You all know there have been two unions consummated among the Presbyterians of Canada. The first, in 1861, between the Free Church and the United Presbyterian Church. In this union Arminianism was placed, at least, on an equal platform with Calvinism. This of itself would have been a just cause of separation. But that was not the only cause. In the basis of that union the original position of the Free Church with respect to the Headship of Christ over the Church and the nations was dropped. The only clue to it was some vague statement about the spiritual independence of the Church; that is, the Church united on a voluntary basis. The prerogatives of Christ as King of kings and Lord of lords were entirely ignored. This caused the people both at Lochalsh and at the North Line of Kincardine to keep out of the union, minus their ministers. The people in the south, at East Williams, were better off, because their minister—the Rev. Lachlan Macpherson, a native of Strathdearn, Inverness-shire—refused to enter the union. When he understood that two congregations in the north held the same position, he went to visit them, and held meetings among them. But his former brethren in the ministry, who entered the union, hearing of this charged him with sowing divisions among the people, and this had the effect of causing him not to go north any more till the next union in 1875. So our poor friends in the north were left to shift the best way they could. This did not discourage them. They built two churches—one at each place—and continued to hold religious meetings with their own worthy and

godly elders. The ministers continued to plead with Mr. Macpherson to give in and join the union Church, and at last, after being out for several years, he entered the union under a protest. No sooner did he yield than his conscience began to upbraid him, so that he lost his peace and became a miserable man, as he confessed to a friend afterwards. We have no doubt but he was a faithful minister of Christ and a godly man.

In the year 1875 a union was consummated between the Presbyterian Church of Canada in connection with the Church of Scotland, the Canada Presbyterian Church, the Presbyterian Church of the Lower Provinces, and the Presbyterian Church of the Maritime Provinces in connection with the Church of Scotland. In the basis of this union there is no mention of the Headship of Christ except a reference in the preamble. In the union of 1861 the Catechisms were, along with the Confession, declared to be in the Constitution of the Church; but in this union they were thrown out. Along with this there was a resolution binding office-bearers to approve of the “practice presently followed in congregations.” This bound men to approve of hymns and instrumental music. The Rev. John Ross of Brucefield (a native of Dornoch, Sutherland), tabled a protest against this union, and along with the Rev. Lachlan Macpherson, Messrs. Donald Fraser and George Forrest, two of their own elders, formed themselves into a Presbytery. They considered it to be worse than sacrilege, for the sake of union with men, to abandon such fundamental doctrines and principles. They bound themselves and those who might adhere to them anew to the original Constitution of the Free Church of Scotland. Our worthy friends at Lochalsh and Kincardine hearing of this sent a deputation to Brucefield to ascertain the real position taken up, and, if satisfied, to join them. Being satisfied, they at once joined them, and besought them to take these congregations under their ministerial care, which they did. These two godly ministers (but especially Mr. Ross, as Mr. Macpherson was getting too frail for much travelling) did their utmost to break the Word of Life and dispense the ordinances of the Gospel among the people till they entered into the rest that remains for the people of God. Mr. Macpherson died in the year 1886 and Mr. Ross in 1887. The people were then left without ministers, but they continued to hold meetings with their elders. It may be dutiful to notice here the hardships to which all the unions known to us, whether in Scotland or Canada, have put those who value God’s truth above human amalgamations consummated at the expense of losing the great doctrines and principles of the Word of God. This was really the case in Canada. Our people there are not schismatics, neither do they undervalue a Gospel ministry; but they loved the crown rights of the Lord Jesus, the doctrines of grace, and the spiritual worship of His true Church too dearly to abandon them at

the caprice of graceless men. Therefore, there are godly, intelligent, faithful, and humble men and women in Ontario who have not darkened the doors of any of the union Churches for the last forty-one years. This is true consistency in upholding a testimony for Christ’s truth in the world, and it ought to put others to shame who are not so consistent in far less trying circumstances.

For the sake of perspicuity it may be useful to state that our people in Canada are situated almost in a straight line along the eastern shore of Lake Huron, but a few miles inland. Brucefield, where we began our duties there, is intermediate, being about 51 miles south of Lochalsh, 64 miles south of the North Line of Kincardine, and East Williams 40 miles to the south of it, the people we visited at Mornington being say 40 miles as the crow flies east of Brucefield.

At Brucefield we held services the second Sabbath of August, began the services in connection with the solemn ordinance of the Lord’s Supper on the following Thursday, and held services all the usual days as at home (except that we held a prayer meeting instead of the question meeting on Friday). The congregations were very small numerically, but there were a few of the salt of the earth among them. There are two elders in this small congregation, Messrs. George Forrest and Daniel Clark, who act as missionaries throughout all the congregations. These two men are intelligent, steadfast, and of undoubted piety. An opportunity was given to the congregation to elect new elders, and they unanimously elected a Mr. Baird, a teacher and a man of good reputation. (He, along with Mr. Forrest, hold the services there.) He, however, finding it difficult to decide whether he ought to accept or refuse, desired that further steps should be postponed for a year, which was granted. Then we proceeded north to Lochalsh, and held services there on the fourth Sabbath. As stated above, they have got a commodious church of their own in this place, capable of holding about 250. There was a good congregation present, the church being more than two-thirds full. There was one elder in the congregation. He is about 87 years of age, but is wonderfully strong for that age. He, at the first along with others, but latterly almost alone, presided at the meetings on Sabbath and week-days. He is a man of a vigorous, intelligent, and most firm mind, but above all a man of true piety. As at Brucefield, the session gave the congregation an opportunity of electing new elders. They unanimously elected two men of good report among all the Lord’s people there—Messrs. Alexander Mackenzie and William Matheson. An intimation was given that the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper would be celebrated in that congregation on the first Sabbath of September. That week we went north thirteen miles, to the North Line of Kincardine, and held services there on the last Sabbath of August. Our people have got a church of their own in this place also, capable of holding about 200. At the Gaelic service the church was about half

full; at the English it was fairly well filled. We came back to Lochalsh that week, and began the services on Thursday in connection with the Communion. The people attended exceedingly well during all the services from Thursday till Monday. On Sabbath the church was nearly full of sedate, attentive, intelligent, and respectable-looking people. Some travelled long distances in order to be present. Gaelic had to be preached at Lochalsh as well as at Kincardine every day, as some of the older people understood it better than English. On Monday the two men who were elected for the eldership were ordained. (I should have mentioned that there is an elder—a Mr. Morrison—a very intelligent, unassuming, and godly man, in the congregation at the North Line of Kincardine, and that he, along with two or three other godly men, keep meetings there.) There were also six baptisms at Lochalsh.

This brought our duties in the north to an end, and we proceeded that week to East Williams, staying two nights with our beloved and very hospitable friend, Mr. Forrest, and his worthy companion, at Brucefield. At East Williams there is a beautiful and commodious church, capable of holding about 250. The second Sabbath of September services were held there both in Gaelic and English. The Church at both services was fairly well filled. On all the days of the Communion, the people attended wonderfully well, but on Sabbath there was a large congregation, the church being quite full. They have got two elders in that congregation, one a Mr. Archibald M’Leish. We were much struck with the simple sincerity and deep piety of this man. He, along with a few godly men, keep the meetings there. The other elder, a Mr. Menzies, lives some distance from the church, and, on account of old age, is very seldom able to be present. He is also a man of good report among the people. A painful bereavement—the death of one of his sons—caused him to be absent at the Communion table. We desire to express our deep sympathy with him. The people—a goodly number of them—had to come long distances to the place of worship, and Mr. M’Leish is about twelve miles from the church. We then turned our face towards the east, to visit our friends at Mornington. The services were held there in the house of our host—a Mr. Macdonald, and a worthy man. There were a goodly number present at the two English services held. There are a few pious men in that place who keep the meetings in Mr. Macdonald’s house, over which he worthily presides. The people there were not represented in the petition laid before the Synod last year, but so far as I could judge they hold exactly the same position, doctrines, and principles held by this Church. This brought our duties in Canada to an end.

The most of the people we met were from the Highlands of Scotland originally. The most of them left Scotland either in the years 1847 or 1849. Argyllshire, Inverness-shire, Ross-shire,

and Sutherlandshire were the counties from which almost the whole of them emigrated. There are a few English-speaking people from the southern counties. We were much encouraged by the brotherly love and unanimity which reigns among them. There are a goodly number of truly God-fearing men and women among them, and among the young there are a few, however few, who seem to be seeking the way to Zion.

The ministers whose memories seem indelibly stamped in the minds of those who were of age before they left Scotland are the Rev. Mr. M’Leod, of Rogart, especially during the three years he resided at Lochalsh, and the Rev. Mr. Sage, of Resolis. Many of the pulpit utterances of these two eminent servants of Christ are as fresh in the memories of some of the old men and women there as if they had heard them yesterday.

In every place visited by us we were received with open arms. It is impossible to over-estimate their kindness to us, and though we were willing to get back to our beloved friends in Scotland, when our duties were accomplished, we must confess that parting with our dear people there was to us like cutting off a hand or a foot. We can never forget them, and, indeed, we don’t desire to forget them. We hope that one of our ministers will volunteer to go next May to preach the blessed Gospel of Christ among them, as they need our pity seeing they are scattered like sheep having no shepherd. We hope Mr. Mackay, as he was unable to go this year, will now volunteer to go, and we are certain that he will not be sorry. They are a part of our Church, they are our brethren and sisters in the flesh, and a goodly number of them are beloved in the Lord.

One other thing I beg to mention and I am done. It is about our expenses. They gave me a draft for £82 sterling. This settled our travelling expenses, which came to £58 5s., and the expenses connected with pulpit supply during my absence, which came to £22 16s., leaving a balance to their account of 19s. Thus they freed this Synod from all expenses.

It may be added, for the information of all our dear people there, that the Rev. J. R. Mackay has volunteered to visit them next year about the end of May. Let it be made a matter of prayer both at home and, in Ontario that the Lord may give him health of body, and freedom spiritually, to carry this into effect.

A Romanist Threat.

The following was sent to Mr. F. Charrington on the day of the Great Meeting against the Education Bill in London:—

DEATH TO ALL PROTESTANTS.

SIR,—Take the chair at the meeting to-night if you dare, and we will serve you the same as we did Kensit, for the day is not far off when the Church will reassert her rights, and make it impossible for you and others to teach your Protestant lies.

Some Famous Books and their Authors.

BY THE REV. DONALD BEATON, WICK.

IV.—BUNYAN’S “GRACE ABOUNDING TO THE CHIEF OF SINNERS.”

WHILE the above series does not by any means profess to be an exhaustive treatment of the wide field implied in the title, still it would betray an inexcusable lack of knowledge of the true position of things to make no reference to any of the writings of John Bunyan. In this article it is intended to guard against such an omission by making some mention of “Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners.” It has by no means obtained such a world-wide reputation as Bunyan’s immortal allegory, “The Pilgrim’s Progress,” nevertheless it is a book bearing the impress of one of the finest writers in our literature, and relates in graphic and eloquent language the long and, at times, terrible experiences of a soul fleeing from the City of Destruction to the Celestial City. In the introduction to the work, he warns against all expectancy of fine literary finish in language characteristic enough. “I could also have stepped,” he says, “into a style much higher than this in which I have here discoursed, and could have adorned all things more than here I have seemed to do; but I dare not. God did not play in convincing of me; the Devil did not play in tempting me; neither did I play when I sank as it were into a bottomless pit, when the pangs of hell caught hold on me; wherefore, I may not play in my relating of them, but be plain and simple, and lay down the thing as it was.” This is Bunyan’s own estimate of his work, as far as “Grace Abounding” is concerned, but it may be no exaggeration to say that no one with any sense of the power of language can have any other feeling than that it is written in a masculine and graphic style, and that, while it may be lacking in the beautiful literary grace and masterly analysis of Christian experience which give such charm to “The Pilgrim’s Progress,” it has passages which can equal any in the great allegory. It is the life story of Bunyan’s awakening to some sense of the great realities of eternity, and ere his course was run these matters were no empty shadows to him. He struggled on if by any means he might get into the Celestial City, and this book is the narrative of these struggles. “The Philistines understand me not,” he says. “It is something of a relation of the work of God upon my soul, even from the very first, till now; wherein you may perceive my castings down and risings up, for He wounded, and His hands made whole. It is written, the father to the children shall make known the truth of God. Yea, it was for this reason I lay so long at Sinai, to see the fire and the cloud and the darkness that I might fear the Lord all the days of my life upon

the earth, and tell of His wondrous works to my children.” The work was written for the benefit of those who acknowledged Him as their spiritual father.

The life story of the author is known to most. It is a life of strange vicissitudes and wonderful providences. He first saw the light at Elstow, in the month of November, 1628. His father’s home, he tells us, was of that rank that is meanest and most despised of all the families in the land, and being such he could make no boast of high-born state according to the flesh; nevertheless, in considering all things, he expresses gratitude to God that He brought him in by this door to partake of the grace and life that is in Christ by the Gospel. In the old documents, his father is described as a “braseyer,” which is practically equivalent to our blacksmith. His mother died before he had reached the age of sixteen, and on his father marrying again he left the shelter of the parental roof. He enlisted in the Parliamentary army, and though under arms for only a few months he had some very narrow escapes. After a short experience of soldiering he returned to Elstow, where he laboured at his father’s trade. The first indication of any serious thoughts about eternity were awakened by reading two books belonging to his wife—Dent’s “Plain Man’s Pathway to Heaven” and Bayly’s “Practice of Piety.” He now set about reforming himself that he might be more acceptable in the sight of God. He attended church regularly, adoring with great devotion the priest, the clerk, and the vestments. Under the spell of this delusion, he tells us he could have lain down at the clergymen’s feet and been trampled upon by them, so much was he bewitched by their name, garb, and work. But the thought that he was a sinner had not as yet crossed his mind. The day, however, that was to him the beginning of days was near at hand. On the Sabbath the pastor had preached a sermon on the duty of observing the Lord’s Day and keeping it holy. Bunyan, after hearing the sermon, according to his usual custom, proceeded to Elstow Green to have a game at cat. He was just beginning the game when, with all the suddenness of a flash of lightning, he heard a voice, as it were, speaking to his soul. “Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to heaven, or have thy sins and go to hell,” was the startling question. Bunyan stood awed before the solemn question, and felt that it demanded an answer. Around him were his companions, utterly oblivious of the mighty problems that had all of a sudden presented themselves to his mind. They played their game with the lightheartedness of those who had never faced these momentous truths that were stirring the soul of John Bunyan to its depths. He felt as if the heavens had opened, and the angry face of Jesus was all he could see. There came immediately after this a temptation that tried him severely—Christ would not forgive nor pardon him his transgressions inasmuch as he had sinned so greatly and grievously against Him. He now determined to allow himself to drift with the stream, as there appeared no more hope for him. The recollection of these

things in after years drew from him the grateful and touching acknowledgment to the God who showed him mercy—” The good Lord, whose mercy is unsearchable, forgive me my transgressions.” It was after he had made the above resolution, when he went after sin with great greediness of mind, that there occurred the well-known incident of his swearing, and the rebuke administered to him by a woman whom he describes as a wicked and ungodly wretch. Here is his own account of the matter:—” One day, as I was standing at a neighbour’s shop window, and there cursing and swearing and playing the madman, after my wonted manner, there sat within the woman of the house, and heard me; who, though she was a very loose and ungodly wretch, yet protested that I swore and cursed at that most fearful rate, that she was made to tremble to hear me, and told me further that I was the ungodliest fellow for swearing that ever she heard in all her life; and that I, by thus doing, was able to spoil all the youth in the whole town if they came but in my company.” “By this reproof,” he says, “I was put to secret shame, and that, too, as I thought, before the God of heaven.” This rebuke, so sharply administered, and coming from such an unexpected quarter, cured him effectually of the vice of swearing. He now fell in with a man who made profession of religion, and being influenced by him, he took to reading his Bible, especially the historical parts, for as yet he could not understand the writings of Paul and the other Scriptures, being still ignorant of the corruptions of his nature. There was now a great reformation in his life, and his neighbours took him to be a very godly man. This pleased him immensely for, as he tells us, he was proud of his godliness. He now left off dancing and other practices, and by this time he had become such a slave to his own self-righteousness that he thought no man in England could please God better than he. He was, sometime after this, called to Bedford to work at his calling, and, in passing through the streets, he came across three or four poor women sitting in a door and conversing on their experiences. “I drew near,” he says, “to hear what they said, for I was now a brisk talker myself in the matters of religion. But I may say I heard but I understood not, for they were far above me, out of my reach. Their talk was about a new birth, the work of God on their hearts, also how they were convinced of their miserable state by nature.” This conversation, though very disconcerting to his self-righteous ideas, had a most beneficial effect. He could not get rid of their words, and he was irresistibly drawn to frequent their company every opportunity he could get. The Holy Spirit in this mysterious way was carrying on His gracious work, and he leaves it as his testimony that at this time it was as difficult to take his mind from heaven to earth as it afterwards was to get it again from earth to heaven. A great questioning now arose in his soul as to whether he had faith or not. Without faith he knew he would perish, and so pressing had the matter become to him that he

determined to put an end to his questioning by attempting to work a miracle. Fortunately, however, he was kept back from this temptation. About this time the state and happiness of the women whose conversation had been so beneficial to him were presented to him in a kind of vision. He saw them set on the sunny side of some high mountain, refreshing themselves with the pleasant beams of the sun, while he was shivering and shrinking in the cold, afflicted with the frost, snow, and dark clouds. Between him and them there was a wall, and through this wall his soul greatly desired to pass, for he concluded that if he could obtain his desire he would be in the very midst of them, and there be comforted with their Sun. He searched the wall diligently for an opening but was unsuccessful for a time, but at last he saw a narrow gap. He attempted to get through but it was too narrow. After repeated attempts he managed to get his head through, and after a struggle his whole body. “Then was I exceeding glad,” he says, “and went and sat down in the midst of them, and so was comforted by the light and the heat of their Sun.” The interpretation of this beautiful and striking vision, as given by Bunyan himself, is as follows: “The Mountain signifies the Church of the living God; the Sun, the comfortable shining of His merciful face on them that were therein; the Wall was the Word of God, that made a separation between the Christians and the world; the Gap in the Wall was the Lord Jesus Christ, who is the way to God the Father. But forasmuch as the passage was wonderful narrow, even so narrow that I could not, but with great difficulty, enter in thereat, it showed me that none could enter into life but those who were in downright earnest, and unless also they left this wicked world behind them; for here was only room for body and soul, but not for body and soul and sin.”

The question of being elected to eternal life now agitated his distressed soul. “It is neither in him that willeth, nor in him that runneth, but in God that showeth mercy,” ever came up before the mind of this earnest seeker in every attempt he made to take a forward step. “Neither in him that willeth, nor in him that runneth,” Satan kept repeating to him, until at last he almost sank in despair. While in this condition of mind, a certain passage in the book Ecclesiasticus “fell with weight upon his spirit”: “Look at the generations of old and see; did ever any trust in God and were confounded.” He searched the Scripture diligently for this passage, but could not find it. At length he came across it in the Apocrypha. This at first somewhat daunted him; but he blesses God that though it was not in the canonical books, yet inasmuch as it contains the sum and substance of many of the promises, he considered it his duty to take comfort from it. Some reference must now be made to what may be called the greatest temptation which harassed his soul, and to the description of which he has devoted so many

pages of “Grace Abounding.” There came a time in his life when his love to Christ was so great that he speaks of it as hot as fire; but the great Tempter, ill at ease at the progress Bunyan was making, came to him saying, “Sell Christ! sell Christ!” He was troubled with this temptation for about a year, and it followed him so persistently that he was not rid of it for a day, nor even an hour for many days together, unless when he was asleep. He could neither eat his food, stoop for a pin, chop a stick, or cast his eye on anything, but he would be met with the temptation, “Sell Christ for this, or sell Christ for that; sell Him, sell Him.” And under this stress of deep emotion, all his body in motion, he would cry out, “I will not, I will not, I will not; no, not for thousands, thousands, thousands of worlds!” At last the awful moment came when in desperation he cried out, “Let Him go if He will.” “Now was the battle won,” is his own melancholy comment, “and down I fell, as a bird that is shot from the top of a tree, into great guilt and fearful despair. Thus, getting out of my bed I went moping into the field; but, God knows, with as heavy a heart as mortal man, I think, could bear; where, for the space of two hours, I was like a man bereft of life, and as now past all recovery and bound over to eternal punishment.” The case of Esau was forever coming up before his mind—the repentance that had been sought with tears but had not been obtained. He thought of Manasseh, of David, and of Peter; they had committed great sins, but none of them were like him; he had parted with Jesus, he had sold his Saviour. He prayed earnestly, but at every prayer Esau rose up before him, as it were, to ban his earnest pleading. At last, through certain passages of Scripture coming to his mind, he began to think that his sin was not unpardonable after all, and he prayed as a soul seeing a faint glimmer of light in the awful gloom. And this was his prayer: “O Lord, I beseech Thee, show me that Thou hast loved me with an everlasting love.” He had no sooner said this than the words came with sweetness, “I have loved thee with an everlasting love.” Yet the Tempter did not leave him, but he drew comfort from the message he had received as he mused on the gracious promise: “I loved thee whilst thou wast committing this sin, I loved thee before, I love thee still, and I will love thee forever.” This was by no means the end of the dreadful struggle, but he had a comfortable outgate at last, as the old divines would put it. It is this wrestling with the principalities and powers, in severe and protracted conflict, that makes the “Grace Abounding” such a treasure to other pilgrims passing on to the Celestial City. Space forbids us enlarging further on other incidents recorded in this remarkable autobiography; but if it is the Lord’s will the next article, dealing with “The Pilgrim’s Progress,” may touch on some interesting incidents in the later life of the author of the immortal dream.

A Remarkable Experience.

LETTER by the Rev. JOHN CAMPBELL to the Rev. JOHN NEWTON.

THE Rev. John Campbell, the writer of the subjoined letter to John Newton, was in Newton’s old age his chief correspondent. He was of Perthshire descent, was born and brought up in Edinburgh, and from his youth mixed with the most serious circles there. He was much attached to Dr. John Erskine, Dr. John Colquhoun, and the other godly ministers then about Edinburgh. He was early brought under the influences of the Gospel, and became a favourite correspondent of the Countess of Leven, Whitefield’s friend. He was foremost in every good enterprise about the metropolis in his day, and after the severe and sweet discipline he underwent, as recorded in this letter, his mind was directed to enter the ministry. He became one of James Haldane’s companions in his Gospel tours through Scotland, and was finally settled as Congregational minister in Kingsland Chapel, London. The London Missionary Society, in its early and great days, when Dr. Love was its secretary, found one of its warmest friends in John Campbell. He repeatedly visited its mission stations in South Africa, and at home he advocated its claims throughout Britain. Born in the year 1766, he died in the year 1842.

“MY DEAR AND REV. SIR,—

“I am deep in your debt for a train of favours, for which I have often thanked you; and still a grateful remembrance is retained. I cannot give a greater proof of my confidence, than by committing to your trust a brief detail of my late extraordinary case and cure. This I promised to do in a former letter, saying that my main intention was by it to capacitate you still more for speaking a propos to the case of distressed, disturbed minds, as they came in your way. My motive is not altered.

“I am not very anxious whether my friends may judge me a believer or not, previous to my furnace-state; but I have no freedom myself in calling it in question. If not a believer, I was greatly mistaken indeed; surely I ate bread of which the world are ignorant—at least I think so. I was awakened by the testimony of Jesus; after a term of terror, I was comforted by the doctrine of a Saviour. Perhaps I attained to the stature of A in Omicron; I am certain I thought so.

“My knowledge of downright believing was exceedingly scanty; my hopes were too easily raised or sunk, in proportion to the fineness or agreeableness of my inward feelings on the one hand, and their dulness or disagreeableness on the other. I was not fully instructed in the unchangeableness of the Divine veracity and love. I mean no reflection against my teachers, but only against my own perception of the truths revealed and taught. I read the

Bible; but my mind was not sufficiently opened simply to receive what it taught me, without inermixing fancied trash of my own. I knew some of my contemporary brethren were in the same predicament, if language has an affixed meaning. They spoke like me, so I suppose they felt like me. But waving this, the length I afterwards went in secret departure from the God of Abraham was great! As a singular monument of the super-abounding riches of saving, sovereign, redeeming mercy, I say what follows:—

“My falling away was gradual, like the declension from noon to night. I think the decay of comfort in secret prayer was the first bad symptom which made its appearance. This ruffled me for a while, but it soon became familiar as a companion, and caused little uneasiness. I had pleasure in attending the administration of the Word for a long time after this took place; and when this, in a great degree, abated, my profession dwindled into formality. All along I had a regard for the truly godly, and associated with none else: these were the men of my councils. For a considerable time I had little heart for attending private societies of Christians, and was pleased when apparently good excuse presented for non-attendance; though, upon the whole, I was one of the most regular attendants on the meetings of which I was a member. I am relating facts, so must not accuse myself except where guilty. At this time I knew I was doing wrong, and lazily wished I had a heart to do better, but had no resolution to prosecute my desire.

“In my worst situation I had a keen desire to be useful to others; and I cannot say it was wholly from selfish motives. I had often an opportunity of visiting the sick and the dying, but seldom possessed a proper spirit or frame for talking to them in a way consonant to their case. Though the poor creatures might seem on the frontiers of eternity, no sympathising emotions would arise—dumbness would seize me—I could not speak—I could not pray. I lost much of my reverence for the Sabbath—found the commandment to sanctify it had no internal restraint upon my mind. I began to use freedoms with it—to talk about news, or some occurrence which my judgment told me was unsuitable conversation for such an occasion. This did me great injury, defacing all that the word had effected, and throwing me open to a thousand temptations through the week.

“I always had a value for real religion, judging those alone happy who possessed it, and would have given a world to be like-minded with them; but the influences of the Spirit are not to be bought with money,

“For a long time I only considered myself a Christian under back-sliding; indeed I had partial recoveries. But I had a secret sin which easily beset me; and, in process of time, I became its humble servant. I often opposed it, but oftener complied with it: I pleaded in favour of it at the bar of my mind, endeavouring to silence every witness which appeared against it. Something would say, Will you commit this sin, and risk heaven? Another thought

would start up, and say, Do it, pray do it; you know that you can repent of it at a future period: it is as easy to repent of many as of one sin: do comply. So I complied. On this, Satan would suggest, Now you have eaten the forbidden fruit like Adam—you are a lost man; you have gone too far for repentance to have any weight. This affair would create a bustle for a while, but it was soon over. However, the remembrance of it in retirement was never effaced, but often filled me with uneasiness and anxious concern, although it was long in reaching the conscience.

“I often omitted prayer, when from home, without much uneasiness; and was always conscious I was unprepared for dying, and became afraid at the thought of death; but some glimmering hope continued for years. I thought I saw hypocrisy written upon all my actions, but had some hope I was not a hypocrite, and often desired self not to interfere with my actions; but he always had a large share in them. I often groaned after performing a generous action. My natural temper led me to be serviceable to everybody, and I was universally esteemed and spoken well of, but was seldom commended without a gloom overspreading my mind. I sometimes pitied man, who could be easily imposed on, who could only judge from the external appearance. Though my relish for spiritual converse was often so flat as to incapacitate me for promoting it, yet I mostly desired that it should be the chief topic of discourse among the Lord’s people, and had most satisfaction when it was. I was often tempted to lay a little stress upon my having a name to live, but was conscious that I was dead; and this stung me to the heart. Reflection upon my conduct throughout no day was pleasant. When I turned my eye to the offers of the Gospel, my mind was always dark and full of embarrassment. I confessed them all truths, but none of them pointed at me; consequently, the most explicit Gospel offer yielded me only a perhaps.

“I think it was about the beginning of 1794 my conscience began to harass me. This, for a considerable space, happened only about bed-time, or when I awoke during the night; but, ordinarily, this passed unnoticed in the day-time, and then I was cheerful, secretly hoping things would turn out, by and by, better than my fears. Oh, deceitful and desperately wicked heart!

“At this period I was continually harassed by invitations to suppers. At these I generally remained too long, the company being always agreeable. May the Lord ever deliver me from supping in strange houses! they had almost ruined my soul. Family duty neglected at home, a bad example set to others, secret duty hurried over, and the mind totally dissipated!

“About the beginning of November, 1794, upon a certain occasion, I officially attended a company for three or four nights, to a late hour. Several serious young people made part of the company; this stared me in the face as a most destructive example to them; and this conduct was the first thing, as far as I recollect,

that mightily roused my conscience; then all my guilt rushed into my mind like a mighty torrent, so that I thought I should have perished in my affliction! By night I could not sleep for the horrible anguish which gnawed upon my guilty soul; the horrors of hell took hold of me, and I knew not what to do; my day of grace was gone; my damnation just and sure. I was filled with a fearful looking-for judgment, and fiery indignation to consume me as God’s adversary. I looked into the Bible, and always stinging texts looked me in the face. I often tried to find comfort from that precious word, Isa. i., 18, ‘Though your sins be as scarlet’ etc., but I could not reason myself into the reception of it. That word, ‘My Spirit shall not always strive with you,’ pierced me to the quick; and that other, ‘What a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God!’ The flames of hell seemed beginning to take hold on me! I shrank! I moaned! I cried! For all this, my heart was as hard as the nether millstone. A sight of the horrors into which sin hath plunged us may terrify, but can never melt the sinner’s heart. Indeed, indeed, I was brought very low; as much so as Satan could well bring a guilty soul on this side death. Glad would I have been to have been metamorphosed, not like Nebuchadnezzar almost, but altogether into a beast, that I might avoid the awful, but righteous, indignation of Jehovah. Day and night was I tortured; nor had I freedom to reveal my case to any man. Often was I on the eve of doing it; but the Lord had determined that flesh and blood were not to be the means of my relief. During many sermons that I heard, I sat as a condemned criminal, believing that others were fed while I was hungry—no food for me. Some people desire to have what is called a law-work; but had they an hour of what I have faintly described above, they would wish they had never been born.

“The arrows of the Almighty stuck faster and deeper, as days and hours moved on. The comfortable testimonies of Jesus flew all past me, or rather were all rejected by me. Judas, Julian, and such rejectors of the Gospel, were viewed as the men who were to be my eternal associates; often wishing I had never known the Gospel—envying the situation of the most abandoned debauchee, who remained unawakened, untormented before the time; and though I am now relieved, I feel horror in the committing it to paper. But I have this reason, among others, for doing it; that it may prove a mean to humble and stir me up in a day of pride or unwatchfulness, and that I may never forget gratitude to my great Deliverer, who snatched me from the gaping mouth of such a horrible pit. My dear Saviour, let me never forget this hour and power of darkness! and never think of mine without wondering at Thine! Mine was but a drop—Thine an ocean! Mine I deserved—Thine was for me!

“It is a most mournful proof of the dead hardness of the impenitent heart of man, when he can smile while deliverance from wrath remains an uncertainty. It is no less wonderful to think

that the redeemed of the Lord are not always filled with rapturous triumph while on earth. O the patience, the kindness, the love, and the forbearance of the Almighty! What plague hath sin introduced into the world! What glorious grace hath God manifested! I have to praise the Lord this day that my life and reason were both preserved.

“I just now recollect that in the midst of my anguish of soul, I thought I should be under the necessity of applying to spirituous liquors for relief from my tormented mind; but this I was preserved from putting into execution, excepting one time about midnight, being so tormented that I feared my bowels would rend with the burning and boiling of the fired conscience. I rose and took one glass of spirits; but ah! this was but a poor relief. It had no effect, but rather sharpened my anguish. I then lighted a candle, and pored, with extreme horror, upon Psalm lxxxvii, from verse 14. I perceived my case worded there; but my hour not being yet come, it afforded no alleviation. This to me was indeed the hour and power of darkness. All the invention of Popish tormentors could not have caused such agony as I then felt. I thought I should be looked for in heaven by many of my friends, and not found. This thought, also, stung me to the quick. I believed God would make me the butt of his vengeance. When I felt the smallest impediment in a simple breath, I trembled, as if a harbinger of death had appeared. The fidelity of God in the execution of his threatening was a tremendous truth. This moment my flesh shrinks, on identifying to my mind my most amazing horror.

“I had as strong impressions of the fidelity of heaven in the midst of this distress as ever I had: this deepened and enlarged my wound. I beheld the glories of heaven as Dives may be supposed to have viewed the happiness of Lazarus from the centre of hell.

“The state of infants, and such as had not lived long enough to reject the Gospel, appeared happiness; there was a possibility of their being recovered and pardoned, but all this was over with me.

“I thought that I believed the Bible a true revelation from God, but I soberly believed it the highest presumption for me to receive any comfort from the truths recorded in it; because, having tasted of the powers of the world to come, and afterwards fed upon sin in a way as if preferring it to the chief good, I called this atrocious, and so it was: but ah! that I should have admitted the thought that it overtopped the merit of the Mediator’s righteousness; but I was led captive by and bound under the sin of unbelief.

“I believed Christ was once friendly to me in months past, but his friendship I had disregarded and neglected—that now he would make me an example of his vengeance, and vindicate his injured goodness, by making me, in the Judgment-day, a spectacle of horror, shame, and dismay. To express the inward knawing

anguish which uniformly succeeded those dismal apprehensions, is beyond the power of a human pen: I rejoice I now relate it as a past event.

“Fierce as my chastisement was, it was short and slight compared with what I justly merited. Three months was about the length of its sharpest continuance; and even during that period I had often intervals of quiet throughout the day; but in general I trembled when darkness overspread the heavens; the return of the evening, sweet to the husbandman, was like the shock of an earthquake to me. A person who never waded these deep waters can have no more conception of them than of the glory of the third heaven. No wonder that the multitude of the heavenly hosts made the air resound with their songs at the incarnation of the Great Deliverer of sinners from all this wrath. They felt for man; but the natural man pities not himself. Saints are mourning for him when he is laughing at them. May I every recoil at offending such a God—such a Saviour! May I ever possess such a deep sense of the magnitude of Divine mercy!

“Let us now turn the leaf, and contemplate the dawning of a glorious day—the rising of the Sun of Righteousness, with healing under His wings!

“Upon the evening of the 26th day of January, 1795, the Lord appeared as my Deliverer. He commanded, and darkness was turned into light. The cloud which covered the mercy-seat fled away! Jesus appeared as He is! My eyes were not turned inward, but outward! The Gospel was the glass in which I beheld Him. When our Lord first visited Saul upon the highway, he knew in a moment that it was the Lord. So did I: such a change of views, feelings, and desires suddenly took place in my mind, as none but the hand of an Infinite Operator could produce. Formerly I had a secret fear that it was presumption in me to receive the great truths of the Gospel: now there appeared no impediment—I beheld Jesus as the speaker in His Word, and speaking to me. When He said, ‘Come.’ I found no difficulty in replying, ‘Yes, Lord! Thy pardoned rebel comes.’ If not the grace of God, what else could effect such a marvellous change? I chiefly viewed the atonement of Jesus as of infinite value, as a price paid for my redemption, and cheerfully accepted by the Father. I saw love in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, all harmonizing in pardoning and justifying me. The sight humbled and melted my soul. Looking to what I felt was no help to my comfort: it came directly from God, through His Word.

“The following evening, about nine o’clock, while sitting before the fire, writing to a reverend friend, I had such a charming, surprising view of sovereign, pardoning, redeeming, unmerited mercy, that I was hardly able to bear it. The great doctrines of redemption, as stated in the Bible, opened to my view in a way I never experienced before. I beheld a crucified Jesus nigh me in the Word: I threw away the pen, and turned to see this great sight!

I looked steadfastly to the Lamb suffering for me! So much was I overpowered with the magnitude of the discovery of eternal, boundless love and grace in Christ, that I felt a difficulty in breathing.

“This view of my redeeming God in Christ completely swept away all the terrible horrors which had so long brooded over my mind, leaving not a wreck behind, but filling me with a joy and peace more than human—truly divine. I sat pensive, at one time beholding the pit from whence I was redeemed, at another, the hope to which I was raised. My soul rushed out in wonder, love, and praise, emitted in language such as this: ‘Wonderful mercy! why me? what is this? Thanks be to God, who giveth me the victory through Jesus Christ, my Lord!’ Shuddering at sin, as pardoned; wondering that ever I could have been guilty of such transgressions, I continued sitting, wrapped up in silent wonder. For long after, when I thought of my hopes, I leaped for joy—I really had a glad heart. This visitation, also, created an extent of mildness and complacency in my temper that I never felt before. I felt a burning love rising in my heart to all the brethren in Christ; with a strong sympathy to all such as were not born of the Spirit. I earnestly breathed after their incorporation into the family of Christ.

“A light shone upon the Scripture quite new to me. Passages, which formerly appeared hard to be understood, seemed plain as the A B C. Earthly crowns, sceptres, and thrones appeared quite paltry in my eyes, and not worth desiring. I felt a complete contentment with my lot in life. I trembled to think of any abatement of my faith, love, and sensibility; it required resolution to be resigned to remain long in the world. Indeed, I could scarce admit the idea of long life: I feared the trials and vicissitudes connected with it; but was completely silenced with that noble saying of our reigning Redeemer, ‘My grace is sufficient for thee.’ I saw I was fully warranted to mind the things of to-day, leaving the concerns of to-morrow to His wise disposal. I felt it easy to introduce spiritual conversation wherever I was, and to recommend Christ wherever I went. I saw that everything acceptable to God, or comfortable to ourselves, was the product of Divine power. I saw the folly and criminality of being too much in company, though composed of the best people in the world. I feel nothing more conducive to internal peace and prosperity than a regular, meek, even walk.

“I cannot close this detail without adding, that in the time of my affliction, the doctrine of election appeared irritating and confounding; now it appears marvellously glorious and truly humbling. I pity Arminians, and every person who is offended, however secretly, with this doctrine. It is a convincing proof to me that there is a great defect in their faith and love, and a want of submission to plain Scripture. In my worst time I saw it to be a truth, only I wished it had not been true; and often it seemed

a check to every exertion; but to deny that it is contained in the Bible appears to me next door to downright Deism.

“I now stand upon a shore of comparative rest. Believing, I rejoice. When in search of comfort, I resort to the testimony of God; this is that field which contains the pearl of great price. Frames and feelings are, like other created comforts, passing away; but the Word of the Lord endureth forever. What unutterable source of consolation is it, that the foundation of our faith and hope is ever, immutably the same! the sacrifice of Jesus as acceptable and pleasing to the Father as ever it was! To this sacrifice I desire ever to direct my eye, especially at the first approach of any gloom or mental change.

“After my deliverance my ideas of many things were much altered, especially about faith. I perceive that this principle in the mind arises from no exertion in the man, but the constraint of evidence from without. The Spirit takes the things of Christ, and discovers their reality and glory in such a manner to the mind of man, that it is not in his power to refuse his belief. It is no mighty matter, nor is it any way meritorious, to believe that the sun is shining when our eyes are dazzled with the beams.

“The internal evidence of the truth of revelation had ten thousand times more effect upon my mind than all its external evidence. There is a divineness, a glory, and excellence in the Scriptures, perceived by enlightened minds, which they cannot so describe as to make it intelligible to an unregenerate person.

“Formerly the major part of my thoughts centred either upon the darkness I felt, or the light I enjoyed; now they are mainly directed to Jesus, what He had done, suffered, and promised. And I do find, when the eye is thus single, my whole frame is full of light.

“Formerly, I felt a constant propensity to talk of my doubts, fears, darkness, etc.; now I feel a similar inclination to hint my enjoyments, faith, love, triumph, etc.

“Formerly I had a certain kind of pleasure in hearing people complaining, talking of their bondage, etc.; now it tries my patience—the foundation of faith and hope appears so immovably firm; at the same time, I hope I possess tender sympathy for all such, and my prayer is, that Jesus may loose their bonds, and set them free.

“I plainly perceive the truth of what you have more than once told me, that a name among men is a poor thing! It can give no relief in temptation, nor in a dying hour.

“I never till now saw occasion for that Divine exhortation, ‘In patience possess ye your souls.’ Luke xxi. 19. But after taking a survey of eternal felicity, I see much need of patience to wait till my appointed moment arrive.

“Formerly when a friend or a minister, especially the latter, said a certain feeling was an evidence of grace, I snatched at it, and took comfort; now nothing of this kind affects me, unless I perceive that it is evidently founded upon Scripture.

“While remarkable visitations continue, I believe the subject of them will be remarkably humbled; but after they are passed, such is human depravity, that he is apt to be proud, and boast of these very things, which ought to operate in an opposite manner. Witness the case of Paul, who got a counterpoise to his rapturous discoveries (2 Cor. xii. 1), etc. Of this you kindly cautioned me some months ago, when I did not so well understand it.

“My mind is wonderfully led out to gaze at the admirable skill of the Divine Operator in his works of creation. I perceive a fund of wisdom displayed in the formation of a pile of grass, or a solitary weed on the roadside,

“As for His works of providence, they appear a second revelation, only not written.

“Now, my dear sir, to finish this long letter, I solemnly declare I had no more hand in my deliverance from my dismal situation than the child unborn. My attention was invisibly, instantaneously, and powerfully drawn to the truth—I saw it to be God’s truth—God’s truth and truth to me! I now hold communion with God as my Father, Jesus as my Saviour, the Holy Spirit as my continued helper and sanctifier, with confirmed angels and men as my brethren. I value the communion of saints below. All is the doing of the Lord, and shall eternally be wondrous in my eyes.

“I am, Rev. and dear Sir,

“Your affectionate friend and servant,

“HEMAN.”

“Closet, July 1st, 1795.”

Searmon.

LEIS AN URR. ARCH. COOK A BHA ‘N DEIMHIDH.

IST DECEMBER, 1861.

“Mar naoidheanan air en ur-bbreith, iarraibh bainne fiorghlan an fhocail chum’s gu’in fas sibh leis.—I Pead. ii. 2.

Sanns an t-saoghal so a tha creutair a’ faotainn coir ann am fabhar an Tighearna thusa theid as an t-saoghal a mach as ‘fhabhar bidh tu a mach as tre ‘n t-siorruidheadh. Is uamhasach sin creutair a bhi caillét. Bha an t-Abstol anns an earrainn roimh so ag inseadh mu phlaighean a bha ‘nan luidhe air an anam agus gus an teid na plaighean sin a thogail. dheth cha shealbhaich e a bheag de’n Chruithhear tha na plaighean ‘sin nan luidhe air aon a tha ‘g aideachadh an Tighearna iongantach grathail. “Ujme. sin a’ cur uaibh gach uile mhealltaireachd agus chealag agus fhardadan agus gach uile anacainnt mar naoidheanan air an ur-bbreth iarriabh bainne fiorghlan an fhocail chum’s gu’m fas sibh leis ma ‘s e ‘s mhor” gu’n do bhlaís sibh gu bheil an Tighearn gras. Na plaighean a thug am peacadh air an anam is plaighean iad a bheir an t-anam

gu doimhneachd a’ bhais shiorruich. ‘S e so direach nadur an droch spioraid, mi-run mealltaireachd, cealg, farmad agus gach uile anacainnt. Co fhad ‘sa tha anam fo aon de na plaighean so cha shealbhaich e moran de ‘n Chruithear; ach fhad ‘s a tha an t-anam gun churam mu bhithbhuantachd tha sith aige fo na plaighean so; ach co luath ‘s a tha creutair air a thoirt beo gu spioradail tha e ‘faicinn cho mi-choltach ‘s a tha iad sin ri cliu clann Chriosd; tha e ‘fas feumnach air na galaran sin bhi air an caitheamh a mach agus airson sin tha iad ag iarraidh bainne fiorghlan an fhocail. Cha tuig duine an cron a dh’ fheudas aon pheacadh a dheanamh dha gus am fosgail Spiorad nan gras suas dha e; ni e na’s mo ‘chron do’n anam, nam bu chomasach e, na tha do dhroch spior, adan ann an ifrinn comasach air deanamh dha. Ach cha tuig an t-anam so gus an teagaig an Spiorad Naomh e, agus, anam ghrasmhoir, ‘nuair nach ‘eil na meadhonan dhuit-sa an ni a b’ abhaist doibh tha aobhar agadsa a bhi rannsachadh a mach an aobhair.

Ach gu bhi ‘labhairet o’n earrainn so tha sinn a’ runachadh a bhi ‘nochdad.

I. Ciod e sin, bainne an fhocail,

II. Ciod e sin, bhi mar naoidheanan ag iarraidh bainne fiorghlan an fhocail.

I. Bainne fiorghlan an fhocail, ciod a tha so a’ cumail a mach? Feudar a radh gur e an Cruithear fein bainne fiorghlan an fhocail agus thusa a fhuair an Cruithear anns an fhocal fhuair thu an sin bainne fiorghlan an fhocail agus thusa nach d’ fhuair an Cruithear cha d’ fhuair thu fathasda bainne fiorghlan an fhocail.

Feudaidh sinn a radh gur e am Fear-saoraidh bainne fiorghlan an fhocail do bhrigh gur e beatha a’ pheacaich air a thoirt beo. Thusa a tha marbh gu spioradail ‘s e an saoghal do bheatha, seadh ‘s e nithe an t-saoghal beatha d’ anama. Ach thusa a ta beo gu spioradail ‘s e Criosd beatha d’ anama. ‘S e Criosd tobar na beatha spioradail agus tobar nan gras; cha-n e sin a mhain ach is e beatha gach ni a ta beo, annsan bha beatha agus b’i a’ bheatha solus dhaoine. Agus tha beannachdan spioradail ann an Criosd a tha air an cumail a mach mar bhainne. Tha an t-Abstol a’ labhairet ris na Corintianaich ag radh, “bheathaich mi sibh le bainne agus cha-n ann le biadh laidir.” Nis nach e Criosd agus e san air a cheusadh am bainne a bha e a’ cumail riu? Tha am faidh a ris a’ labhairet air fion agus bainne, ‘s e sin beannachdan spioradail: am bheil beannachd spioradail air bith dealaichte ri Criosd? ‘S e Criosd tobar na beatha nadurra, a tha ‘toirt beatha do na h-uile ni air neamh agus air talamh: ‘s e tobar na beatha spioradail, agus iadsan a thug e beo gu spioradail tha iad an crochadh air fein airson na beatha sin agus bithidh tre ‘n t-siorruidheachd. Cha-n ‘eil srad grais a tha e ‘comh-pairteachadh anns an t-saoghal nach ‘eil a’ toirt air an anam bhi ‘g amharc ris fein airson a chumail suas. Mar sin tha an t-anam mar naoidhean air ur-bhreth ag iarraidh bainne fiorghlan an fhocail. Bidh e mar sin tre’n t-siorruidheachd cho cinnteach ‘s a tha iad an crochadh air airson na beatha na-

durra. Gheibh na naoimh e ann am bithbhuantachd mar thobar beatha agus tha iad mar naoidheanan air an ur-bhreth ag iarraidh a’ bhainne fhiorghloun chum’s gu’m fas iad leis. Gu’n tigeadh anam gu drap a dh’ aithne air Criosd anns an t-saoghal tha sin ‘ga ulluchadh airson gloir.

‘Se Criosd bainne fiorghlan an fhocail do bhrigh an daimh anns am bheil e do’n anam agus ‘se so tobar gach comhfhurtachd spioradail. Tha ‘nadur an duine aig an Fhear-shaoraidh. Mar an dara pearsa tha e ionnan ris an Athair ann a oirdheirceas neochruthaichte ach ‘na dhaonnachd ‘se cnamh dhe’n cnamh e, anam dhe’n anam-direach nadur na daonnachd-mar sin deirear ris an Dia-duine air chor ‘s gu’m feud creutair peacach tighinn dluth do Dhia ‘na nadur fein. Dh’ fheudamaid a radh gu’n do rinn Dia buadhan na Diadhachd anmhunn do’n anam. Cha bu chomasach creutairean ‘an sealladh sin de Dhia a bh’aig an duine ‘na cheud staid a ghiulan. Dh’ fheumadh iad Dia a thighinn anns an fheoil mu’n biodh e ‘na chomfhurtachd dhoibh. Cha-n’eil foillseachadh a thug Dia dheth fein anns an t-saoghal nach robh air a dheanamh freagarrach ri anmuinneachd ar naduir: agus ma fhuair thusa aithne air Dia mar chnamh dhe do chnamh fhuair thu ann an sin bainne fiorghlan an fhocail. Tha buadhan anns a’ Mhorachd tha ‘nan teine caitheimh, seadh bhiodh an Trocair fein sin mur deanadh Dia i freagarrach ri nadur an anama.

Feudaidh sinn bainne fiorghlan an fhocail a radh ri Criosd do bhrigh na reite a rinn e eadar Dia agus an duine. Thug an duine oilbheum do Dhia. Tha fad-fhulangas Dhia do’n t-saoghal ‘na iongantas do na h-ainglibh. An la a bhios sin air fhosgladh ann am fhoirfeachd bidh e ‘na iongantas do’n chruitheachd. Thusa, a theid a dh’ ifrinn cha bhi iongantas air naoimh no air ainglibh gu’m bi thu an sin. Thug an duine oilbheum do Dhia agus dhuisg sin farg ann an Dia a tha ‘g eiridh o ghaol da fein, d’a mhaitheas, agus cha bu chomasach Dia bhi ann an reite ris an duine as eughmais dioladh d’a cheartas. F’ac righ talamhaidh, an dean ni reite eadar e agus righ eile ach riarachadh airson an oilbheum? O pheacaich, sguir dheth, sguir dheth, cha riarach ni ceartas ach bas agus cha riarach a h-uile seorsa do bhas ceartas Dhe. Cha dheanadh an duine a bhi ann an ifrinn gu siorruidh ceartas a riarachadh. B’ aithne do Chriosd sin agus dh’ irioslaich se e fein agus ghabh e nadur na daonnachd chum’s gu’n deanadh e riarachadh airson peacaidh ‘s gu’n deanadh e reite eadar Dia agus an duine. An d’ fhosgail e sin duitse? Ma thug e dhuit beachd spioradail air fhuair thu ann an sin bainne fiorghlan an fhocail. Dh’ eadar-mhinich e do na deiscioibluibh a’ dol gu Emaus as na sgriobtuiribh uite na nithcan m’a thimchioll fein; agus bha iadsan ann an sin mar naoidheanan air an ur-bhreth a’ faotainn bainne fiorghlan an fhocail agus fhuair iad beatha ann an sin.

Feudar bainne fiorghlan an fhocail a radh ris an Fhear-shaoraidh do bhrigh gur e tobar a’ mhaitheanais. Cha-n’eil

maitheanas dealaichte ri Criosd. Ma’s maith leatsa maith-eanas fhaotainn, thig a dh’ ionnsuidh Chriosd, “Anns am bheil againn,” deir an t-Abstol, “saorsa tre’fhuil-san eadhon maitheanas nam peacadh.” Cha-n’eil ni a dh’ uralcheas an t-anam cosmhuil ri maitheanas, is e bainne fiorghlan an fhocail e agus tha tobar maith-eanas ann an Criosd. ‘S iomadh aon ‘a fhuair maitheanas anns an t-saoghail agus ‘s ann an Criosd a fhuair iad uile e, mar a ta e ag radh ann an aite eile, “bheir e maitheanas gu pailt” is mar a thubhairt an t-Abstol, “bha gras ar Tighearna thar tomhas ro phailt dhomh maile ri creidimh agus gradh a tha ann an Iosa Criosd.” Anam bhochd, ma bheanas an Tighearn riut cha bhi la a dh’ eireas tu nach bi feum ur agad air maitheanas. Nis ciod e an tobar a chumadh ris an fheum sin? Ach o! tha maitheanas ann an Criosd mar a ta uisge anns an tobar agus gheibh an taghadh bithbhuan e mar sin ‘na thobar neochaochluidheach gu siorruidh. Ma gheibh thusa mar sin gu e cinnteach bidh agad ann an sin bainne fiorghlan an fhocail.

Feudaidh sinn a radh gur e ann Fear-saoraidh bainne fiorghlan an fhocail do bhrigh gur ann ansan a bha an run siorruidh mu’n t-saoghail so gu bhi air a choimhlionadh. Faiceamaid an run siorruidh air a choimhlionadh ann an slainte shiorruidh an anama agus bidh againn ann an sin bainne fiorghlan an fhocail.

Tha arduachdaranachd ann an Dia gu’n runaicheadh an Dia siorruidh gu’n irioslaicheadh an dara Pearsa e fein cho mor ‘s gu’n gabhadh e nadur na daonnachd agus anns an nadur sin gu’m biodh peacaidhean an naduir sin air am meas da, ‘s gu’m buineadh ceartas ris airson nam peacaidhean sin. Mo chairdean, mu’n smuainicheadh aon de na h-anglibh air sin smuainicheadh e gu’m biodh e’ caillte. Ach ann an so tha arduachdaranachd na Morachd a’ dealradh agus ann an so tha sinn a’ faicinn mar a ta e gu h-arduachdaranail a’ meas a thoillteanas fein do chreutairean paecach. An t-anam a gheibh sin gu cinnteach b’ aig ann an sin bainne fiorghlan an fhocail.

Tha gaol ann an Dia. Nam faiceamaid peanasachadh peacaidh ann an ifrinn chiomaid gaol Dhe dha fein, d’a bhuaodhan ach cha-n ann do’n duine. Ach ann an Criosd chi sinn a ghaol cha-n ann a mhain da fein d’a naomhachd ach mar an ceudna a ghaol do’n anam. Bha gaol Dhe do’n anam fo’n t-seann Tiomnadh air ‘fhoillseachadh anns na h-iobaitean a bha ‘ga chumailsan a mach a shonraich Dia ‘na iobairt reitich tre creidimh ‘na fhuil chum ‘fhireantachd fhoillseachadh le maith-eanas nam peacadh a chaidh seachad tre fhad fhulangas Dhe. ‘Sann am bas Chriosd a tha buadhan na Morachd a’ comhlaachadh a cheile (‘s bean-naichte an t-anam d’am fosgail Spiorad nan gras e), tha buadhan Dhe mar gu’m b’ eadh air an dealachadh, agus ‘s iomadh peacach bochd a bha fada mu’n robh sin air fhosgladh dha, cionnus is urrainn Dia a bhi ceart agus mise bhi air mo inhaitheadh. Ach ann am bas Chriosd chi thu a h-uile buaidh a ta ann an Dia air an glorachadh. Tha trocair ann an Dia ach cha-n ann air chosd

a cheartais. Tha e neochaochlach ann an ceartas, neochaochlach ann an naomhachd. Ach cha’n’eil buaidh anns a’ Mhorachd nach fheud ann am bas Chriosd bhi mar iocshlainte do’n anam ann an Criosd.

Bha maitheanas peacaidh anns an run shiorruidh. Ach ‘s ann tre Chriosd a’ bha sin gu sruthadh a dh’ ionnsuidh an anama. ‘S iongantach sin a h-uile bagradh a labhair Dia ‘na fhocal a’ tionndadh air taobh an anama’ agus a’ tighinn gu bhi ‘nan geallaidhean da. Gus an tig an t-anam gu so cha chomasach e air comhfhurtachd a ghabhail: ach ann am bas Chriosd feudaidh e so fhaotainn. Cha-n iarr ceartas riarachadh o’n anam agus o Chriosd. Cha-n’eil bagradh a tha ann am focal Dhe nach ‘eil ann am bas Chriosd a’ tionndadh air taobh an anama ann an Criosd. Ann an so a nis cha-n’eil ni a dh’ uraicheas an t-anam cosmhuil ri maitheanas: an t-anam fo eagal roimh Dhia cha-n’eil ni a dh’ uraicheas e cosmhuil ris na h-eagalan sin bhi air an togail deth agus nach do choisinn Criosd sin? ‘S e so cuid de’n aoibhneas a chuireadh roimhe gu’m biodh na h-eagalan sin air an togail dhe cuspairean a ghraidh mar thoradh a bhais. Cha-n’eil ni a chumas millseachd am an croisean an t-soaghail cosmhuil ri faireachadh air maitheanas. Cha-n e sin a mhain ach ‘s e Criosd a tha ‘gan gleidheadh ann am fabhar Dhia. ‘S e gu bheil Criosd anns a’ chuilt tha ‘gan cumail ann am fabhar Dhe agus a’ toirt dhoibh “drapan” de chomh-fhurtachd anns an t-soaghal. Tha de thruaillidheadh eadhon ‘nan urnuighean ‘s gu’n dealaicheadh i iad gu siorruidh ri Dia. Gu bheil an t-anam air a ghleidheadh ann am fabhar na Morachd ‘s e ‘th’ann toradh na h-eadar-ghuidhe. ‘Bheil an t-anam a’ faighinn “drapan” a dh’ aithne air sin? Ma tha nach ‘eil aig ann an sin bainne fiorghlan an fhocail?

‘S e Criosd tobar nan nithe a tha coinmcheangailte ri sin, an iomhaigh air a toirt air ais, an fhireantachd, an naomhachd, ‘s ann an Criosd a tha.sin ri fhaotainn. Cionnus a shealbhaicheas sinn Dia? Nach ann annsan? Ma ta nach fheud sinn a radh ris bainne fiorghlan an fhocail?

Dh ‘fheudadh bainne fiorghlan an fhocail a radh ri geallaidhean an t-soisgeil. Cha chomasach naoidheanan air feume a dheanamh dhe biadh laidir mar mhuiintir a thainig gu laithean. Thug Spiorad Naomh nan gras ma ta am focal freagarrach do na h-uile cor. ‘Nuair a ta creutair air a thoirt beo gu spioradail tha e iomadh la a’ tarruing comhfhurtachd o ‘fhaireachadh an aite a bhi ‘ga taruing o’n Tighearn is o ghairmean saor an t-soisgeil. An creutair gun ghras aig am bheil briathran tha e riarachta leo; cha-n aithne dha comhfhurtachd, tha e fo dhruidheadh spioradail. “O Ghala-tianacha amaideach, co a chuir druidheadh oirbh?” Ach ‘nuair a gheibh an t-anam grasmhor aignean blath ann an urnuigh saoilidh e gu’m faigh e trocair; ach co luath ‘s a tha sin air falbh tha esan ‘s a pholl far an robh e roimh. Nis ann an so feudaidh sinn a radh gur e geallaidhean an t-soisgeil bainne fiorghlan an fhocail.

Oir cha-n e faireachadh an anama ach gairmean an t-soisgeil a ta ‘toirt coir air Criosd. Thug an Cruithear gairmean an t-soisgeil iongantach ial. “Ho! gach neach air am bheil tart, thigibhse chum nan uisgeachan, agus esan aig nach ‘eil airgiod, thigibh, ceannaichibh gun airgiod agus gun luach fion agus bainne.” “An ti a thig am ionnsuidh cha thilg mi air chór air bith a mach e.” “Is i so toil an Ti a chuir uaith mi gu’m biodh a’ bheatha mhair-eannach aig gach neach a chi am Mac agus a chreideas ann.” Oh! co ial ‘s a tha am I’ear-saoraidh a tighinn ann an gairmean an t-soisgeil. “Seallaibh riimsa agus bithibh air ‘ur tearnadh uile iomalla na talmhainn, oir is mise Dia.” Tha so aig a’ chreutair cho fad tha ‘s a tha cor’ agus aniam ceangailte ri cheile.

‘S e obair an Spioraid Naoimh bhi ‘foslgladh saorsa gairmean an t-soisgeil agus is priseil sin saorsa taigsean an t-soisgeil do na h-uile creutair fo na neamhan. Mo chairdean, chuireadh an t-anam feum air gu’m faiccadh e ann am bas Chriosd na dheanadh reite airson peacaidhean an t-saoghail uile. Cha-n’eil teagamh nach fhaca ceartas sin. Feudaidh mi a radh gu’n do chuir ccartas peacaidhean an taghaidh agus bas Chriosd ann an sligibh agus ‘s e gu’n do chothromaich toillteanas Chriosd iad a tha ‘toirt saorsa do’n anam. Biodh sin air ‘foslgladh dha agus gu cinnteach bidh aig ann an sin bainne fiorghlan an fhocail.

Faiceadh an t-anam an tobar o’m bheil sin a’ sruthadh; ‘s e gu’m faic e sin a dh’ uraicheas e. Tha an aon toil ann an tri Pearsaibh na Diadhachd Dh’ eirich e o’n ghaol a bha ann an uchd Dhe gu bheil taigse trocair do’n t-saoghal ann. Faiceadh an t-anam sin agus gu cinnteach bidh aige ann an sin bainne fiorghlan an fhocail Nach ‘eil gloir na Morachd ceangailte ri ‘fhocal fein? Fagheadh an t-anam drap a dh’ aonta ri sin, nach do labhair an Tighearn focal riama nach ‘eil a ghloir ceangailte ris. “An ti a chreideas anns a’ Mhac tha a’ bheatha mhaireannach aige.” “Tridsan tha gach neach a chreideas air a shaoradh o na h-uile nithibh o nach robh e an comas dhoibh bhi air an saoradh le lagh Mhaois.” ‘Nuair a tha an Spiorad Naomh a’ mineachadh so do’n anam bidh aig ann an sin bainne fiorghlan an fhocal.

Dh’ fheudamaid bainne fiorghlan a radh ri focal glan Dhe gun mheasgadh. Tha sinn a’ leughadh air “orduighean, aitheantan, agus teagasgan dhaoine.” Ach cha-n e sin focal glan Dhe. ‘S iongantach sin aon a’ gabhail ri focal lom Dhe le, “mar so deir an Tighearn.” Tha sgriobhaidhean priseil ach cha-n ‘eil sgriobh-adh air bith cosmhuil ri focal Dhe. ‘S e ‘fhocal-san smior a’ chruithneachd. Ach tha sin a’ gabhail a stigh iarritus tighinn fo chumhachd an fhocail. Tha sinn a’ leughadh air “armachd,” “ar n-airm chogaidh cha’n fheolmhor iad ach cumhachdach o Dhia chum daingnichean a leagadh, a thilgeadh sios reusonachaidh agus gach ni a dh’ ardaicheas e fein an aghaidh eolas Dhe.” Cionnus a bhios sin deanta ach direach leis an anam bhi air a thoirt fo chumhachadh focal Dhe. Feudaidh solus moran a dheanamh ach ‘s e so a sheasas siorruidheachd. “Cuiridh mi

mo reachd ‘nan taobh stigh agus sgiobhaidh mi air an cridh-eachan e’s bidh mise dhoibhsan a’m’ Dhia agus bidh iadsan dhomh-sa ‘nam pobull,” agus “bidh eolas aca ormsa uile o’n neach a’s lugha gus an neach a’s mo dhiubh’, deir an Tighearn.” Ann an so thig an t-anam gu bhi comasach air eadardhealachadh a dheanamh agus cha chroch e air breitheanas duine. Cha d’earb Criosd e fein ri duine. Cha teid aon duine gu caithir breitheanais airson duine eile. An t-anam nach ‘eil dall, cuiridh e eadardhealachadh agus cha croch e air ni ach air bainne fiorghlan an fhocail. Oir, arsa an t-Abtol, “is maith an ni an cridhe bhi air a dhaingneachadh le gras cha-n ann le biadhaibh nithe nach d’ thug tairbhe do’n dream a ghnathaich iad,” oir bha iad “air an giulan mu’n cuairt leis gach uile ghaoith teagaig,” mar a bha Israel. ‘Nuair a bha righ diadhaidh ann bha iadsan diabhaidh cuideachd: ach ‘nuair a chaidh an righ air seacharan chaidh iadsan air seacharan cuideachd. Tha an saoghal mar sin an diugh: cha-n’eil spiorad an eadardhealach-aidh aca ‘s tha iad “air an giulan mu’n cuairt leis gach uile ghaoith teagaig le cleasachd dhaoine.” Ach lub an t-anam grasmhór leis a h-uile ni. ‘S e sin a dh’ fhagus e fosgailte do gheurleanmhuinn: ach ‘s ann mar sin a thig e gu bhi ‘na phost ann an teampull a Dhia. ‘S e a bhios aige “Is lochran d’ fhocal do mo chois agus solus do mo cheum.” Oh! ciod e an t-sith a bheir sin do’n anam a’ toirt aghaidh air saoghal nan spiorad! Ach oh! ciod e sin aon a’ dol a stigh do’n t-siorruidheachd ‘na mheall dorchadais!