(XII.)
ACHMELVICH, 15th June, 1874.
MY DEAR FRIEND,—It is more than time for me to answer your last letter, but the cause of delay was the illness of my daughter Elizabeth, who was struck with fever and severe pain in her head, so that we were afraid she would not recover, being so low as to be sometimes not taking notice of anything.
But it has pleased the Most High to spare her yet, and she is now mending, though weak. You said you were dreaming about us, and no wonder. Surely you felt we were in trouble. And after all, there is a trouble that never leaves me, my want of submission to the dealings of the Lord.
I was sorry indeed to hear of the death of that godly man, David Steven. Captain Ross, Wick, wrote me of it the day after he died, and said what was true—that he did not leave his like behind him in that part of the country. The last time I saw him, we sat up together till late in the night, and he told me much of his history and of the Lord’s dealings with him, speaking of himself as the “chief of sinners,” and of the Lord Jesus as being in
mercy and compassion “the Wonderful,” His love and grace past finding out. Indeed, he seemed to me to be full to the brim of the love of Christ. May the Lord give to us who are left lonely and desolate in our feeling a taste of His own everlasting love. O! what He went through for those He loved! Shame on us for our poor shallow love to Him.
Remember me to all the friends—they are getting fewer. I will be looking for a letter soon.—Your affectionate friend,
ALEX. KERR.
(XIII.)
ACHMELVICH, 10th October, 1874.
MY DEAR FRIEND,—Many thanks for your two letters, the last one containing a pound-note. You said it was not yourself that sent it, but whoever it was, I should see the goodness of Him who orders and overrules all things.
Now, my dear friend, I am feeling that I am not to be long left in this world, for besides that I have reached the allotted time, I am feeling of late a weakness and palpitation at my heart, which is a token that my bodily frame is falling down. Now, I am to be plain with you, and to ask you—Are you seeking as a poor penitent sinner that spiritual life which Christ by His death procured for sinners, and which must be communicated to them by His Spirit before they can hope to enjoy eternal life hereafter? Oh! see that you be applying to the Fountain daily for that life to melt your hard heart, to purify your corrupt nature, and do not count yourself happy till Christ be formed in you, the hope of glory. My dear, a form will not do our turn at last, the truth in word alone will not do—it must be the channel through which Christ Himself will take possession of our souls.
We had the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper administered here last week, and very few among us were missing Christ’s presence at the solemn occasion. The means of grace are good, and to be highly valued, but it is a mark of God’s displeasure to a people or a place when He is not accompanying the means with divine life. A silent God is a heavy judgment to a soul or to a generation.
The dear people that were constraining His presence among us are mostly all removed, and I am thinking it is because I am such a barren branch that He is leaving me and taking my godly acquaintances off the stage.
Write soon to your affectionate friend,
A. KERR.
The Lord Chancellor.—Apropos of the Lord Chancellor’s religious views, it is gratifying to learn that he was for a number of years president of the Lord’s Day Association in London.
Searmon.
SEIRBHIS AIG A’ BHORD CHOMANACHAIDH.
LEIS AN URR. ARCHD. COOK.
IS e ‘tha ‘n so samhlachan corp an Tighearna; agus nam biodh suilean spioradail againne chitheadh sinn tre na samhlachan a chorpa naomh air a bhriseadh, agus chitheadh sinn mar a chum sin corp an taghaidh o bhi air a bhriseadh mar thoradh air a chorpsa bhi air a bhriseadh. Chitheadh sinn tre’n fhion fuil an Uain a bha air a dordadh agus mar a ghleidh sin fuil an taghaidh o bhi air a dordadh. Mar sin ‘s e tha ann am bochdan Chriosd luchd-feich do shaor ghras. Ciod an t-aobhar uaill a tha aca? Nach e a dh’ fheudas iad a radh? “Bu mhise masladh Chriosd, bu mhi ifrinn Chriosd. Ma bhios esan ‘na fhlaithenas dhomh-sa bha mise ‘nam ifrinn dha-sa.” Seallamaid ma ta air son Spiorad nan gras, ‘s e an Spiorad a bheothaicheas.
Feudaidh na Papanach bhochd bhi ‘n duil gu’m bheil caochladh a’ tighinn air na h-eilimeidean, ach, anam bhochd, ‘s ann ortsa a dh’ fheumas an caochladh a bhi is cha-n ann air na h-eilimidean, agus bi thusa ag amharc airson Spiorad nan gras. Ma thig esan agus gu’n labhair e ann an cluasan an anama bheir e air ais e gu Adhamh agus chi e ma bhios e air a shaoradh gur ann leis a’ chorpa so a bhi air a bhriseadh agus an fhuil so a bhi air a dordadh a bhios e air a thearnadh. Agus thusa, a gheibh sin, gheibh thu ni eile; “Cha leibh fein sibh, tha sibh air bhur ceannach le luach,” agus gheibh thu iarritus a bhi air a shon fein agus cha-n ann airson na eile. O airson an latha nach e mise tuilleadh a bhiodh ag urnuigh ach Criosd a bhiodh ag urnuigh annam; nach e mise tuilleadh a bhiodh a’ searmonachadh ach Criosd a bhiodh a’ searmonachadh annam. “A’ bheatha a tha mi ‘caitheadh anns an fheoil tha mi ‘ga caitheadh ‘na beatha creidimh air Mac Dhe a ghradhaich mi agus a thug e fein air mo shon.” Thigibh am fagus ma ta agus chi sibh ni air an earb sibh ‘ur siorruidheadh agus thig sibh gu bhi ‘g earbsa ris airson ‘ur naomhachadh.
“Anns an oidche anns an do bhrathadh e.” Oh, an oidche dhorch! Ach b’ i an oidche airson an robh e air a theannachadh gus am biodh e air a choimhlionadh. “Ghlac e aran agus thubhairt e, “Se so mo chorpa-sa chaidh bhriseadh air bhur sonsa; deanaibh so mar chuimhneachan ormsa.” An oidche anns an do leag e sios airson an taghaidh shiorruidh an luach a cheannaich iad o’n fheirg agus o chumhachd peacaidh agus o’n t-saoghal agus a chuireas iad ann an seilbh air sin nach fhaca suil, nach cuala cluas agus nach d’ thainig ann an cridhe duine. “Ghlac e aran.” Sibhse, bhochdan Chriosd aig am bheil ni air bith de’n t-saoghal na biodh sin agaibh agus muinntir eile falamh. Cha bhiodh Criosd riarachte le gloir agus a chlann falamh. Cha bhiodh
Criosd riarachte le gloir agus a chlann Ó falamh. Roinneadh e ri ‘chloinn.
“Air a’ mhodh cheudna ghlac e an cupan an deigh na suipeir ag radh, is e an cupan so an Tiomnad Nuach ann am fhuisla; olaibh-se uile dheth. Oir cia minic ‘s a dh’ itheas sibh an t-aran so ‘s a dh’ olas sibh an cupan so tha sibh a’ foillseachadh bas an Tighearna gus an tig e.”
Is biadh da rireadh m’ fheoil-sa agus is deoch da rireadh m’ fhuil-sa; esan a dh’ itheas m’ fheoil-sa agus a dh’ olas m’ fhuil-sa, bidh e beo tromham-sa. Ithibh, o chairdean, seadh, olaibh uile dheth a mhuintir mo ghraidh. Gu cinnteach dh’ fheidhadh e radh nach robh aon eile air neamh no air talamh a bheireadh so dhoibh ach e fein, a sheasadh a stigh agus a labhradh focal maith as leth an anam agus a bheireadh e fein mar urras airson an anama ach a fein.
“Feuch a nis a ta mi teachd
An rol an leabhair ormsa fos
Sud sgriobhta tha gu beachd,
‘S e sud mo thlachd ‘s mo mhiamn, a Dhe,
Do thoil gu’n deantadh leam
Do reachd gu dearbh a ta gu buan
Am’ chridhe stigh ‘s am’ chom.”
Bheil feum ni air bith ort, ma ta? Bheil eagal oir bith ort? Thoir an so e, sgaoil a mach ‘na lathair e. Na teid o bhord an Tighearna le miann peacach no ni air bith nach sgaoil thu mach ‘na lathair.
Tha thu ann an so agus bhoidich thu agus bhris thu do bhoid-ean. Ca’rsion? Nach e gu’n robh miann peacach a’ d’ nadur? O, ma ta, sgaoil a mach sin ‘na lathair. Ged a bhiodh tu air do chuibhrigeadh le peacadh mar an lobhar cha-n ‘eil sin ‘gad dhean-amh ni’s graineile ‘na shealladh. Cha-n ‘eil ni a ni an t-anam graineil ‘na shealladh ach gach a’ pheacaidh. Ach oh! gaol a’ pheacaidh a bhi air a bhriseadh agus an t-anam a’ miannachadh bhi air a shaoradh uaith. Ma ta ‘s ann chum gu’m biodh an saoradh sin ann a chaidh an corp so a bhriseadh. ‘S e sud an t-slabhruidh leis am bheil an saoghal ceangailte agus nach bi air a fuasgladh gu siorruidh. Bha mi a’ smuaineachadh air na deisciobluibh. Cha robh aon diubh air nach robh clampan air chor eigin ach Iudas ach mu dheireadh bhris gaol an t-saoghal a mach. Thubhairt e sin cha ‘n ann do bhrigh gu’n robh gaol ann do na bochdaibh ach do bhrigh gu’n robh e ‘na mheirleach. Chi sibh fathasd na meirlich de luchd-aidich a bha anns an t-saoghal.
Feudaidh anam grasmhor ni’s mo dh’ fheum fhaotainn dhe tuisleadh na gheibh an cealgair dhe mile urnuigh; gheibh e ni’s mo de chnamhan briste ni’s mo de chaithris na gheibh an cealgair dhe mile urnuigh. Sibhse a thug sibh fein thairis le ‘ur n-uile chridhe do Chriosd, le so bidh fios aig an t-saoghal gur sibh a dheisciobuil ma ghradhaicheas sibh a cheile. Cionnus a nochdas iad an gradh d’a cheile? ‘N ann le bhi ‘g altrum peacaidh ann an aon a cheile? ‘N ann am biadh agus an deoch? Mar sin ni
madraith an t-saoghail. Ach cronaichibh-se a cheile agus na altrumaibh peacadh ann an aon a cheile. Ann an laithibh m’ oige cha-n fhaiceadh clann Chriosd coire ann an aon a cheile nach innseadh iad a dh’ aon a cheile ach oh! ‘s iad a sheasadh diteas ann an la d’ fheum. ‘Nuair a bhiodh an cealgair aig am biodh a theanga mar an t-im ‘gad reubadh air do chul sheasadh esan dileas.
Cuimhnichibh-se gu bheil cliu Chriosd ann ‘ur cliu-sa agus gur aithne dha trioblaidean an t-saoghail agus cha’n eil dleasdanas gus a’m bheil e ‘g’ur gairm nach ‘eil cosd aige fein air a shon. Bithibh air ‘ur faicill o na teagasgan a tha ‘dol a mach anns an t-saoghail. Tha tuil o ifrinn air dol a mach anns an t-saoghal fo ainn diadh-achd agus iarraibh-se nach bi sibh air ‘ur fagail aig breitheanas naoimh no aingeal. Tha iad an diugh ag eigheadh, “dusgadh.” Ciod an dusgadh a th’ ann? Tha seorsa aignean nadurra gun ni aig am freimh, ni a tha ni’s cunnartaich dhuit na do pheacaidhean. Ach cuiribh-se ‘ur gleidheadh air an Tighearn agus biodh ni’s mo eagail oirbh fearg a chur air Dia na air duine. Nam biodh sinne ceart bhiodh na clachan ag eirigh dhe’n druim. Ach ag eirigh o’n bhord thugaibh leibh na briathran sin, “Bi thusa frinneach chum na criche agus bheir mise dhuit crun na beatha.”