(I.)
BADBEA, 23rd February, 1841.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
My loneliness causes me to take the pen, although I am ignorant how to address you or any of my few friends. I am here as an exile, a long distance from any of my intimate friends.
I have the winter within and without. My very affections are frozen; my understanding, dark; am impenitent and hard-hearted; an alien, without nearness to a throne of grace. Would you not pray for such a creature? Perhaps He may, and will tune this harp yet, and cause me to rejoice in Himself, and to sing in the fires or in the afflictions. If I would get nearness, my mourning would be turned into dancing. But alas! I am always provoking Him with the polluted and evil fountain that is within, the original fountain: it is what comes from the heart that defileth. If ever I had any nearness, I have done as it is contained in Hosea, chapter second, that which made all my mirth to cease. “The joy of the harp ceaseth.” It was two Sabbaths that I was out of the house since you saw me. I have been poorly with my head and breast, and my sister has been in extreme pain at times with her usual complaint, which was making me silent.
I want to hear your mind as to what is to come of our harlot mother, the Church of Scotland, which is exalted as high as Capernaum with pride and vainglory. Likely, the boar out of the wood will be allowed to waste her, and scour her, and cleanse her.
You are reading how the suspended ministers did at Marnoch in that congregation. This is the first of the tribulations.
I am much concerned about Lexy Calder’s hard trials. I hope she will come out of them as gold tried in the fire. Be you fervently for her case at a throne of grace. I hear that Isabel Polson is much better. She has been poorly lately, more so than usual. If you knew my loneliness, myself and my niece many a night watching my sister, feeling the night so long, you would try to send my watch. At times I have been thinking that I am not coming the way of your mind, and I was more troubled with that thought than the want of the watch.
Be sure to write me, for charity’s sake, for I am in a remote place here. Mr. Sinclair, Thurso, is writing me sometimes.—I am, dear friend, yours, sincerely,
JOHN SUTHERLAND.
P.S.—Pray that I will get a cow yet, for I lost the cow that I had last week. Best wishes to Alexander Stewart, and let me hear how is he. Remember me to your sister.
J. S.
(II.)
BADBEA, 4th February, 1845.
MY DEARLY BELOVED FRIEND,
My loneliness causes me to take the pen, although I am anxious to hear how is your body. I was writing to Thurso to enquire how you are, but they could not tell me as well as you could do yourself.
I have been poorly since this winter commenced. I have had the winter within and without. The trouble that I have been subject to from my youth, in His good providence, lay heavy on me. I have been fretting like a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke, although I have been in the school of affliction from my infancy. Oh! I am polluted and poisoned by sin. The more the Lord digs and spares, the more I am sinning. Oh! what patience with a poor hell-deserving sinner; oh! redeeming love, free grace, pardoning mercy. Oh, for saving grace to lay hold on the Father’s Beloved; oh, for repentance to mourn as a dove of the valley for my sin, my indwelling sin, for I feel the root of sin daily spreading and cultivating my corrupted faculties, and bringing forth fruit more so than I felt since 30 years. My field is full of evil weeds. Oh! the deceitfulness of my heart above any! I am more in danger of my hypocrisy and formal performances in duties than my actual transgressions.
Oh, dear friend, if you can think of me, for those that were concerned for my soul and body are taken home from the evil that has overtaken us. They are happy that got home to their rest with clean garments. This is a dark day, such as our fathers have not seen. The world is in an awful confusion, and the cause of Christ very low. Oh! that He would look on the cause which is His own, and that He would not allow Satan and the wicked to trample on the travail of His soul. Oh! the cold wind there is blowing daily to separate in place of to unite and to love each other as brethren. This is an allusion to some local differences among “the men.”—ED. May He rebuke Satan! I am unable to go much abroad. I went to Helmsdale one Sabbath with Donald Mackay, Clashcraggan, and James Elder.
I have heard that dear Mr. Cook of Reay is to be on the 12th instant at Canisbay making elders and deacons. I had a letter lately from Mr. Cook at Inverness; he is bearing testimony for his Saviour, and is much fatigued in his person, but the Lord is good to his soul. I heard that you were not at Wick at the time of the Sacrament, but Mr. Cook was there and some of the friends. I am willing to hear how is Mr. Macbeath The Rev. John Macbeath, a godly minister, son of William Macbeath, referred to subsequently and afterwards minister of the Original Secession Church, Orlig. ED since he is placed in your church. Pray that the Lord would take possession in that building and in all the Free Church, May they succeed!
I want to know how is William Macbeath, Castletown. I hear that he is increasing in love and zeal for his Redeemer’s cause. Give my kind respects to Alexander Stewart and to your sister, who is a Martha to you and A. Stewart and many more. My afflicted sister is spared, but still in the furnace, but my niece is with me. Write me by Helmsdale. Wlth such mind as I have, I am often at your house.—I remain, your attached friend,
JOHN SUTHERLAND.