BY THE LATE REV. LACHLAN MACPHERSON, ONTARIO.
Dated 31st May, 1846.*
* We understand that these “Notes” are taken from Mr. MacPherson’s own manuscript.—Ed.
“Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved? I raised thee up under the apple tree: there thy mother brought thee forth; there she brought thee forth that bare thee.”—SONG viii. 5.
THE question put in the beginning of the verse is put by the daughters of Jerusalem. The person about whom the inquiry is made is the Church, the bride or spouse of Christ, and the other person on whom she is leaning, called her Beloved, is Christ. In the foregoing verse the Church is giving utterance to her longings after her Beloved, and is here interrupted by a significant hint, in the form of a question, suited to remind her that she was evidently very near to and in close communion with the object of her ardent desires, notwithstanding how far off she might suppose herself to be from Him. Longing desires after Christ are a sure sign that He is not far off.
In speaking from these words, let us notice—
I.—The place where the Church is said to be;
II.—The nature of the progress she is making;
III.—The particular posture in which she is represented during her progress.
I.—The place in which we here find the Church is “the wilderness.” This may represent her spiritual state. Sin has changed
the soul, which was once like a well-watered and fruitful garden, into a wilderness—a dry, parched, and barren waste—from which condition, although renewed by grace, she is only escaping. It may also represent her local position, as sin has changed this world into a moral wilderness. The soul of the unconverted sinner is a wilderness—a desolate, hard, and barren place—and the souls of all such constitute the great wilderness of this world—“the world that lieth in the wicked one.” It was in this wilderness that Christ found His spouse. All were wandering in a dry and parched land, having forsaken God—a pathless desert in which they lost their way, and were continually going farther off from safety and rest, and without the slightest prospect of ever finding any path to lead them out of their deplorable condition. Such is the spiritual state of the sinner! His soul has become a barren waste—a howling wilderness—where nothing useful grows, nothing but thorns and briers. There is no true spiritual beauty, but everything bearing the impress of sin. His understanding is darkened; his conscience is defiled with guilt and dead works; his will is depraved and only moving against God. His mind is carnal, and enmity against God. His affections are wholly placed on earthly things. There is no fruit brought forth but the fruits of the flesh—no fruit to God—no love, no obedience; but instead of this, the thorns and briers of disobedience and rebellion—things that are not only useless, but hurtful and troublesome and fit only for the fire. There is no trace of that spiritual character which he once had; everything shows the desolation that sin has caused in his soul. This is the state of every individual sinner. What, then, must all sinners put together be? What must the unconverted mass be but a vast wilderness—a cheerless, dreary waste? But, alas! the unconverted world do not view it so. True, indeed, they feel many of the evils which sin has occasioned, and groan under them. They are uneasy, dissatisfied, and continually seeking rest, but find it not. They have no desire to leave the wilderness; they have no proper conception of a better place. Born and brought up in the wilderness, they have no desire to leave it. It is to the Church alone that it appears truly a wilderness. To her there is nothing in it but thorns and briers, which tear and annoy at every step; no water to quench her thirst; no spiritual food to satisfy and nourish her soul, for in the wilderness nothing of this kind grows. Nor is there any part better than another, for all is but one continued waste. There is no real friendship or sympathy from the world, for all are thieves and robbers, and hate and injure her as much as possible. She is as the lily among thorns—like a single lily among a great wilderness of thorns—struggling through them, pricked and wounded on every side. The thorns are strong and many, and allow her as little room to grow in as possible, but still she maintains her existence—still she grows and thrives. She is the only lovely object in all the wilderness! What a wonder it is that she should be found there at all!
Christ found all His people in this wilderness; it was here that He espoused them to Himself. He is called Wonderful, and how wonderful that Christ should go forth to the wilderness in search of a spouse! He left heaven with this object in view; He went into the wilderness in search of her, where she lay in common with all others, lost and miserable. The Good Shepherd went into the wilderness to seek the lost sheep, and there He found it, and laid it upon His shoulders, and brought it into the fold. He found His spouse, the object of His love, wandering in a pathless desert. There He offered Himself to her; there He wooed her, and won her heart, and married her to Himself, and having done so, caused her to follow Him to a better country. No sooner is the soul married to Christ than it immediately sets out for that better country of which her Lord is the King.
II.—The nature of the progress she is making. (1) Coming up, (2) from the wilderness. The Church is in the wilderness, but is continually progressing. She is not satisfied in the wilderness, but is escaping from it. Although in the world, yet she is not of the world, for Christ, her husband, hath chosen her out of the world. At the moment of the soul’s union to Christ a spiritual progress commences. The soul then sets out; she “forgets her own people and her father’s house” (Psalm xiv. 10). Like Rebekah, she must not tarry any longer with her own people—not a day, nor a moment. Her journey is through the wilderness, but it is a coming up. The unconverted sinner is going down into the wilderness to perish there. This was her course also in her unconverted state. The sinner in his natural state has no thought of leaving the wilderness. His affections are not set on the things that are above, where Christ is, but on things on the earth. The sinner’s back is turned upon God; he is continually penetrating deeper and deeper into the wilderness—going farther off every day from God and safety. His soul inclines downward, and consequently his progress is downward. The men of the world cannot lift up their affections even for a moment to heaven, but, like Bunyan’s man who was raking the straws and had his eyes always on the earth although a crown was suspended over his head—an object more worthy of his affections than his straws—their whole soul is intent on earthly objects. There is no advance made upward, however great their outward privileges may be. But the renewed soul is born from above, and therefore his affections are towards his own country. His country, his Lord, and his people are above, and he is continually progressing towards them—upwards.
All are moving in one direction or another—either upwards from the wilderness, or downwards. There is no such thing as standing still. The soul must either be drawing nearer to God or going farther from Him—either growing in grace or growing in sin. The upward course is the more difficult of the two. Sinners take the easier, that which is most natural, the downward course.
“Coming up” reminds us of several important things. (1) That there is a strong desire for objects above itself, viz., God, heaven, holiness. In the renewed soul there is a hungering and a thirsting after righteousness. Strong desires going forth after Christ, the object of its affections, after holiness, deliverance from sin, conformity to His image, fellowship with Christ, a desire to glorify Christ—in all these things the soul is leaving the world and rising far above it in its principles, aims, and desires. These desires are moving in a contrary direction to those of the world; they are upwards. Where there is no desire of this kind, it is evident the person is not in a safe state.
One may feel very languid and feeble in his desires. He may feel overcome by worldliness of mind, and have, experimentally, but little fellowship with Christ, but even then, like her, he is mourning an absent Lord. His desires are towards Him and the remembrance of His name. The language of his soul is, “O that I knew where I might find him.” And he is continually inquiring, “Saw ye him whom my soul loveth?” But the soul that is dead has no desire, and therefore makes no effort—no desire after anything above. He cannot desire things which he dislikes—does not like God—feels no need of a Saviour. He cannot desire holiness nor deliverance from sin because he likes it.
(2) Coming up implies growth in grace. Each step, as it advances, it comes nearer to God and that rest which awaits it when it reaches home. She is coming up, continually advancing, growing in holiness, humility, deadness to the world and regard for the wilderness. She is growing in her love to the Saviour—her spouse. It is a bad sign when we see people, instead of coming up in this respect, going backwards; returning again, as it were, into the wilderness which they once appeared to leave—when we see people growing more worldly—less zealous—less diligent in the use of means. When it can be said of an individual, that once his affections seemed warm and his love ardent; that once he greatly delighted in the society of Christians and would on no account miss an opportunity; that once he was watchful, humble, suspicious of himself, and tender in conscience with regard to sin and duty; but now that he seems to have lost his first love, that he can take more pleasure now in the society of the world than then, that he is not so watchful, not so tender, and less frequent in his attendance on spiritual duties—these things are sad appearances of decay, if not proofs that the work was only superficial from the beginning. “Grow in grace and in the knowledge of the Saviour, Jesus Christ,” is the injunction of Scripture.
The Church is not said to be coming up a certain distance in the wilderness, where she is to stop as having come far enough, but she is spoken of as coming up from the wilderness—her aim is to come out of it altogether, and she is putting forth every effort to gain her point. She is never satisfied until she reaches her destination. “Forgetting those things that are behind, and
reaching forth unto those things that are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus” (Phil. iii. 13-14).
This was the practice of Paul, and it was also the practice of the Church at all times. It is not said that she has come up a certain distance, but that she is coming up. The measure to which the soul has attained to-day wont suffice for to-morrow. Neither is there such a thing as moving at all, however slowly, and not coming nearer the “mark of the prize, etc.” When the soul is first espoused to Christ, it is then but in its infancy, it must not remain so always, but it must be coming up. It must grow daily until it arrives at the stature of a perfect man in Christ.
- Coming up also implies that the spiritual progress of the believer is attended with difficulty—it is uphill travelling—it is in the face of much opposition. The Christian’s course is compared in Scripture to a warfare (Isa. iv.; 1 Cor. ix. 7; 2 Cor. x. 4). “The weapons of our warfare are not carnal” (1 Tim. i. 18). It is going against wind and tide—opposition from every quarter, from within, from the devil, and from the world without. The Christian’s path is one beset on every side with dangers and difficulties, and none of these more formidable, and constant in their opposition than the enemies within himself. His own soul is the seat of the greatest part of the warfare. There is an unremitting struggle there between two rival nations—two rival principles, the one urging him forward, the other dragging him backwards. Many severe conflicts are maintained here without its being apparent to the world that there is any emotions. The remains of corruption make it very difficult for the Christian to advance—these are continually warring against the law of his mind and bringing him into bondage as much as possible. His unbelief, pride, lusts of the flesh, worldly-mindedness, and other inward foes are great hindrances, and make his progress much slower than he could wish.
The temptations of the devil also do much to hinder him. The great adversary is very subtle, and lays his plans with great skill, in order to turn the soul from following Christ. Satan, the father of lies, slanders Christ and the path in which He leads His church. He insinuates much to the dishonour of Christ in order to withdraw the affections of His spouse from Him. He slanders the way of holiness, and endeavours to raise as many dark suspicions in the soul as possible. In spiritual prosperity when things go well with the soul, he will endeavour to sap the foundations of its hope by raising suspicions that all is a delusion and that the soul was only deceiving itself, or he will try to make the soul feel secure and satisfied with what it has done. He will endeavour to awaken feelings of pride, self-sufficiency and self-complacency: and so diminish its vigilance, and that by this means the soul may be either lulled into carnal security, or hurried to the commission of sin. If Satan succeeds here, he then tempts the soul to despair and
tells him there is no hope for him. Satan never grudges the time and pains spent in tempting: he is always at the work and spares no pains to make it succeed.
But the world without—the inhabitants of the wilderness through which the Christian is passing—are continually opposing his progress. Sometimes with open violence, laying hands upon him, sometimes by its temptations; sometimes it mocks and tries to put him out of countenance—”What is thy beloved more than the beloved of another?” It will call him fool, hypocrite, proud, self-conceited, unsocial, and such like. It will endeavour to throw stumbling-blocks in his way and turn him away from his purpose: and their evil example is continually before his eyes. They and he are going in different directions. He is coming up, they are all going down, and if at any time he prevails upon some of them to accompany him, they soon grow tired of the way and his company, and seldom go far when they return to their own people, like Pliable who followed Christian a short distance, but returned as soon as the first difficulty occurred to try his spirit.
It is very difficult for the Christian to make progress in some cases. Sometimes he is so situated that he seldom sees anything but the worst example; perhaps destitute of the means of grace and Christian fellowship, and those with whom he is immediately connected, strangers to Christ. In such circumstances he finds it peculiarly difficult to advance. But though the path of the spouse is thus beset with difficulties, there is one circumstance which must not be lost sight of, and that is they are difficulties which are overcome. He is still coming up. They do not prevent him from going forward. Let no one suppose that it will excuse him that the opposition which he had to encounter, and which stopped his progress, was great. No, it is through much tribulation that the Christian must enter the kingdom of heaven. None get there without trial. They are said to be conquerors, which shows that they had to fight, but they are conquerors only through Him that loved them and gave Himself for them.
“From the wilderness.“—This is descriptive of her own views regarding her situation. She felt that the place was a wilderness. None feel this like the Christian. Natural men do not see their real condition as it is—they are contented with it as a whole. Coming up from the wilderness is also descriptive of her prospects. “Come out from among them therefore, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, etc.” Once she was as satisfied with the wilderness as others, but now she is not satisfied there. She will never rest until she has left it altogether. It would not do to come to the skirts of the wilderness; no, but her aim is to leave it altogether.
The soul, therefore, that is united to Christ must turn its back on its former objects of delight—it must come out from them. It must forget its former sources of delight, its affinity with them must be broken. It must have no sympathy with the practices, prospects, and pursuits of the world—its people must no longer be their people, and its god must no longer be their God. All the
spouse leaves behind is but a dreary wilderness. She can see nothing around her that could tempt her to stay.
Let professing Christians look to themselves and see how does the conduct of the spouse and theirs agree. Have they turned their backs on the wilderness in which by nature they are wandering, and have they turned their backs on this world, having obtained the promise of a better country? Are they conformed to this world, or are they transformed?
III.—“Leaning upon her beloved.”—It might occur to one on hearing of the opposition offered to her—of the difficulties with which she had to encounter, that it was truly strange how a poor weak woman could succeed in making any progress whatever, and especially that she could continue successful in her progress for any length of time. But, my friends, the true secret of her coming up is to be found in what is here related to us—namely, her leaning on her Beloved. It was He that first laid hold upon her, and ever since He first laid hold on her He continued His hold, and none could pluck her out of His hand. In herself she had no strength for a single step of the journey, but all her strength and safety were from Him; and He caused her to lean upon Him—lay all her weight upon Him and feel secure from every assault. There is implied in this leaning two things—(1) felt weakness in herself, and (2) strength in Christ her beloved.
(1) Believers are, in themselves, all weakness. They are only children—babes in Christ—helpless creatures. Not even strong enough to lay hold on Him, they can only lean. They are unable, of themselves, even to think one good thought. Besides, their enemies are strong and crafty and numerous. A woman, also, is naturally timid and easily disheartened. If the Lord had not been on their side when men rose against them, believers would be swallowed up of them. It is good for the Christian to feel his weakness, that he may the more readily and constantly make use of Christ; and the cause of the many falls and back-slidings of Christians is no other than their trusting to their own strength. “When I am weak, then am I strong.” “I live, yet not I, but Christ that liveth in me.”
(2) Strength in Christ. The spouse experienced this. He was mighty to save. “His legs are as pillars of marble set upon sockets of fine gold” (Song v. 15). He is “the Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle” (Psalm xxiv. 8). His strength was tried when, on His mighty shoulders, He bore up the elect and kept them from sinking into hell, when He bore our sins upon the Cross and made atonement for our guilt. He also triumphed over Satan and all the host of hell. He spoiled principalities, made a show of them openly, and triumphed over them in His death. He also triumphed over the world. No arm can withstand Him, for He is God omnipotent. The Church also experienced His strength in subduing her to Himself, and her confidence in His strength is such that she can, without doubt or hesitation, lean upon Him and feel secure. But let us attend a
little more closely to what is meant by leaning upon Christ, or in what way may she be said to lean upon Him.
“Leaning upon her beloved” means the exercise of faith upon Him, both in respect of what He has done for her, and what He promises yet to do.
(1) Leaning to His atonement. By this her guilt is atoned for and the wrath of God turned away from her. In Him she has a righteousness in which she need not be afraid to stand in the presence of God; it is a spotless righteousness and an everlasting righteousness. It is when thus trusting to Christ for pardon through His blood that the soul comes to enjoy peace (Romans v. 1). And the reason why some find so much difficulty in their progress is their want of confidence in Christ for righteousness; they look for something from themselves; they are trying to mix up part at least of their own righteousness with that of Christ. They have not entirely renounced their own filthy rags, but when the soul comes to renounce these, she can feel secure, resting her whole weight upon her Beloved.
(2) Leaning to Him as her Head of spiritual influence—life from the dead. “Because I live, ye shall live also.” He gave Himself for the life of the world. He is a living head, and they who are in Him live through Him. Sinners are dead spiritually, and through Christ they are brought alive and made partakers of eternal life. From Him she derives her spiritual character—holiness, heavenly mindedness, meetness for heaven, a new nature. She is conformed to His image; His beauty makes her comely, and fit to appear in the court of the Most High.
(3) Leaning to Him for food—daily food—to support the new life. The Israelites in the wilderness were made wholly to depend upon their God and Saviour for their food and water; their food came from heaven without their labour in procuring it. He fed them with manna, which came down every day in sufficient quantities for the wants of the day, and He gave them water from the rock. In the wilderness nothing would grow; besides, they were wandering from place to place, and had no means of procuring it in the ordinary way.
(4) Leaning upon Christ as the source of all true knowledge. He is made of God to them wisdom, etc. Left not to their own understanding. He not only communicates wisdom, but He is Himself infinitely wise, and He is their prophet, to teach them.
(5) Leaning upon Him for protection from all dangers. (6) Leaning upon Him for strength to perform duties; to overcome in spiritual warfare. (7) Leaning to His promises—His faithfulness. (8) Leaning upon Him as the kinsman Redeemer, as God-man, Mediator, Prophet, Priest, and King.*
In leaning thus they have communion with Him and are near to Him.
* It is evident that Mr. MacPherson did not fill in these heads in his Notes, but left this until the time of delivery.—ED.
Scottish Heroines of the Faith.
BY THE REV. D. BEATON, WICK.
(Continued from page 374.)
ISABEL ALISON.
* This sketch, now somewhat altered, appeared in the Protestant Woman*.
ISABEL ALISON and Marion Harvey both belonged to the stricter section of the Covenants, acknowledging as their ministerial leaders the famous and highly respected Covenanter ministers, Richard Cameron and Donald Cargill. No doubt, because of the cruel oppression the Cameronians had to endure, they were led at times to speak unadvisedly and to act in a way that we, in altered circumstances and no longer exposed to the fury of the tempest, may feel inclined to criticise. But taking them all in all, the sternness of the Cameronians arose from their high sense of principle and an utter failure to recognise what they considered sinful compromises. They have been severely censured. They were few in numbers—their social position did not give them a commanding position in the land—but, with all their failings and shortcomings, they were men who discerned the times, and the ushering in of the Revolution with the acceptance of William and Mary as sovereigns of these realms is, to a certain extent, history’s vindication of the justness of the contentions of the followers of Richard Cameron. More than twenty years of a cruel and relentless persecution had thinned the ranks of the Covenanters. Three Indulgences had been offered, and a great number of the Presbyterian ministers accepted one or other of these Indulgences, until at last only a few stood out. By the Sanquhar Declaration the Cameronians had renounced allegiance to Charles II., regarding him as a perjured person, having sworn to uphold the Covenant at a time when, if not in communion with the Church of Rome, he yet had strong sympathies in that direction—at least so far as a man of his character can be said to have sympathies with any kind of religion. By the laws of the realm, therefore, they became rebels, but, judged by higher laws, it was their deep concern for the crown rights of the Lord Jesus that made them take up an attitude of uncompromising hostility to the government of King Charles II. in Scotland.
Donald Cargill had seen many days in the service of his Master: Richard Cameron was but young. The elder was of a timid, shrinking nature, but strong and immovable as the rock when great issues were at stake; Richard Cameron, on the other hand, was by nature of a bolder disposition, but it was not his natural boldness that made him such a faithful servant on the side of his Master, though no doubt the Holy Spirit used this
feature of his character for His own service. There is something peculiarly affecting in the strong union that existed between these two servants of Christ. After the disastrous Battle of Bothwell Bridge they were the only ministers who preached in the fields, with the exception of John Blackadder, until young James Renwick appeared. The followers of Richard Cameron and Donald Cargill held no communion with the Indulged. Blackadder, on the other hand, while regarding the Indulgence as a snare and a trap, did not take up such a strong attitude as the Cameronians towards the Indulged, and would not follow them in their step of renouncing allegiance to the King. As has already been noticed in the Introduction, the impression made by Richard Cameron on his contemporaries was extraordinary. When it is remembered that he belonged to a party which were regarded as fanatics and rebels by the ruling powers, and as narrow-minded bigots by the great bulk of Presbyterian Scotland; and that he was but young in years and in service, yet, notwithstanding all this, Richard Cameron is one of the great commanding figures in Scottish ecclesiastical history. The flame kindled by God burned with a vehemency that gave the warning that it was but for a season. He was indeed a burning and a shining light, and many rejoiced in him for the comfort and consolation that he, as a messenger of Christ, brought to them.
Isabel Alison espoused the cause of Cameron and Cargill, and, owing to some remarks she had made on observing the harsh treatment meted out to a few non-conforming religious people at Perth, she was apprehended. She was dismissed by the magistrates, but soon afterwards was again apprehended by a party of soldiers, and was carried to Edinburgh, where she was thrown into prison. She was then brought before the Privy Council, and an effort was made by cross-examination to extort from her a confession that would lead to her entanglement in the meshes of the law. Throughout her examination she retained her self-possession, and was enabled to answer her interrogators with calmness and wisdom.
Bishop Paterson asked:—”Have you conversed with Donald Cargill?”
She replied:—”Sir, you seem to be a man whom I have no clearness to speak to.” He desired another member of council to put the same question; which being done, she answered:—”I have seen him, and I wish that I had seen him oftener.”
“Do you own what he has done against the civil magistrate?”
“I do own it.”
“Can you read the Bible?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know the duty we owe to the civil magistrate.”
“When the magistrate carrieth the sword for God, according to what the Scripture calls for, we owe him all due reverence; but when magistrates overturn the work of God, and set themselves in
opposition to Him, it is the duty of His servants to execute His laws and ordinances upon them.”
“Do you own the Sanquhar Declaration?”
“I do own it.”
“Do you own the papers taken at the Queensferry on Henry Hall?”
“You need not question that.”
“Have you conversed with rebels?”
“I never conversed with rebels.”
“Have you conversed with David Hackstoun?”
“I have conversed with him, and I bless the Lord that ever I saw him, for I never saw ought in him but a godly pious youth.”
The favourite incriminating question was then asked her:—
“Was the killing of the Archbishop of St. Andrews a pious act?”
“I never heard him (i.e., David Hackstoun of Rathillet) say that he killed him; but if God moved any, and put it upon them to execute his righteous judgments upon him, I have nothing to say to that.”
This was the great stumbling stone set before the stricter Covenanters, and when the issues were presented to them whether the killing of Archbishop Sharp, on Magus Moor, was murder or not, they recoiled from stamping the deed with the foul brand of criminality, regarding it more as the just judgment of heaven than a crime. As Dr. Smellie has well said, “Sharp’s character was despicable. His presence was a menace and a blight. But these facts do not excuse his murder. There are, of course, elements of extenuation. . . . . . . It was condemned, soon and utterly, by the responsible leaders in the army of the Covenant. The captain of the band, moreover, that ferocious and iron-hearted John Balfour of Kinloch, was not a religious man; he was an enthusiast, whose enthusiasm darkened into the bigotry of the fanatic; but he showed no sign of godliness, and, even before the sanguinary 3rd of May, he was kept back from sitting down at the Sacramental Table: his was not a nature sensitive to the highest and holiest things.” The most that can be said about the rough method adopted in removing Archbishop Sharp from the scene of his oppressive activities may be summed up in the lines written when Cardinal Beaton met with a similar fate—
“As for the Cardinal, I grant
He was a man we weill culd want,
And we’ll forget him sune;
But yet I think the sooth to say
Although the loon is weill away,
The deed was foully dune.”
Isabel was further questioned:—
“What think you of that in the Confession of Faith—That magistrates should be owned though they were heathens?”
“It was another matter,” came the quick reply, “than when
those who seemed to own the truth have now overturned it, and made themselves avowed enemies to it.”
“Who should be judge of these things?”
“The Scriptures of truth and the Spirit of God, and not men that have overturned the work themselves.”
She was now brought before the lords justiciary and tried on the confession she had made. After the indictment was read she was asked if she had any objection to offer to the charges. She answered in the negative. When the names of the jury were called, it was found that two had absented themselves, for which they were fined. Another was so opposed to having any part in the proceedings that he pled to be relieved, but this was refused him. When he was sworn in, he trembled so much that he could not hold up his hand. Before the trial commenced, Isabel addressed the jury, saying, “I take every one of you witness against another at your appearance before God, that your proceeding against me is only for owning of Christ, His gospel and members; which I could not disown, lest I should come under the hazard of denying Christ, and so be denied of Him.” Sir George MacKenzie (“the bluidy MacKenzie” of Covenanting tradition) was prosecutor. The jury unanimously found her guilty “conform to her confession of adherence to the fourth article of the Fanatics’ New Covenant, and to the Declaration at Sanquhar, and to the Bond of Combination; but as actor or receiver of rebels, they find it not proven.” The sentence was delayed until 21st January. On this date she was again brought before the court and her sentence read to her. She was to “be taken to the Grassmarket of Edinburgh, upon Wednesday next, the 26th instant, betwixt two and four o’clock in the afternoon, and there be hanged on a gibbet till she be dead, and all her lands, heritages, goods and gear whatsoever, to be escheat and inbrought to our sovereign lord’s use, which was pronounced for doom.” It was a heavy penalty to pay for the opinions she held, for her enemies could not produce an item of evidence that she had openly resisted the law of the land. During the few days that intervened between her condemnation and her execution, God did not forsake her. “O, how great is His love to me,” she said, “that hath brought me forth to testify against the abominations of the times, and kept me from fainting hitherto, and hath made me to rejoice in Him. Now I bless the Lord that ever He gave me a life to lay down for Him. Now, farewell all creature comforts; farewell sweet Bible; farewell ye real friends in Christ; farewell faith and hope; farewell prayers and all duties; farewell sun and moon. Within a little while I shall be free from sin, and all sorrows that follow thereon. Welcome everlasting joy, everlasting life!” On coming to the scaffold she sang:—
“How lovely is Thy dwelling place,
O Lord of hosts, to me!
The tabernacles of Thy grace
How pleasant, Lord, they be.
My thirsty soul longs vehemently,
Yea, faints, Thy courts to see:
My very heart and flesh cry out,
O living God, for Thee.”
Her last words on the scaffold were:—”Farewell all created comforts; farewell sweet Bible, in which I delighted most, and which has been sweet to me since I came to prison. Farewell, Christian acquaintances. Now into Thy hands I commit my spirit, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!”
(To be Continued.)
The late Alexander Mackay, Dunvegan, Skye.
THOSE of our readers who had the privilege of knowing the late Mr. Alexander Mackay, Harlosh, Dunvegan, will be surprised that no notice was taken of his death before this date in our Magazine. He died on the 10th February, 1908.
Though comparatively little known beyond the boundaries of his native parish, the deceased impressed all with whom he came in contact in a manner they could not readily forget. We can only give a very meagre account of his early life, for, though several attempts were made to get such an account, his reserved disposition proved them all futile. He was evidently but young when he came under the power of divine truth, and from words which inadvertently fell from his lips, we gathered that this great change was brought about through the instrumentality of the late Rev. Roderick MacLeod, Snizort, during the Fairybridge Revivals. Of Fairybridge he once said, “There is a spot there to which I could point,” and then suddenly stopped. A friend present added, “Where you were converted.” “I am afraid,” he answered, “that that day has not come.” Another friend remarked, “Was that the day you were justified?” “I fear,” he replied, “that it was the day I deceived myself; but if it were deception, it was very sweet.”
Old Sandy, as he was familiarly called, was a man whose character a stranger would be ready to under-estimate. At first sight he might be taken as a simple, unintelligent man, but a very slight acquaintance would convince one that he was a person who had a very intelligent grasp of the profound doctrines of the Gospel and of Church matters relating to the position he took up in regard to the cause of Christ in 1893. He was very much attached to the Free Presbyterian Church, and the least appearance of departure from her original position, with a view to union with other Churches, was a source of great grief to him.
His sincere humility and godly simplicity were very marked.
It was with great difficulty that he could be got to speak to the “Question” on the Friday of Communions, as he considered himself so much inferior to others. On one occasion, when asked to speak, he replied, “It is only people who don’t know me that would ask me.” When he rose he was brief and to the point. He remarked once that “Godliness was not a thing which one could learn from others.” On another occasion he said that “In the Lord’s people there were two great armies, each seeking to have the victory, but that Christ, the Captain of our salvation, would gain the day.” He was of a most patient disposition, and we never saw his temper ruffled.
He very reluctantly became an elder of the congregation about six years before his death, and his wise counsels in the Kirk-Session were most helpful. The combined faithfulness and tenderness with which he dealt with applicants both for baptism and the Lord’s Supper were greatly to be admired. He was no stranger to the subtle devices and assaults of Satan. During a severe illness some four years before he died, he was greatly tried with the temptation that he ought never to have publicly addressed his fellow-sinners. The thought that he had been guilty of presumptuous sin pressed him so sore that he longed for restored health that he might get once more to the Schoolhouse, where our services were held, so as to tell the people that he had been deceiving both them and himself. He got his desire so far realised: his health was restored; but the Lord evidently had dispelled the temptation, for the first day he appeared and presided at the meeting the chief subjects of his opening prayer were, praise to the Lord for bringing him back, and entreaty that the house of David would grow and that the house of Saul would be diminished.
Though very poor in circumstances, he was always contented with his lot, and no one ever heard him complaining, but always expressing his surprise at the Lord’s goodness to such an unworthy person. Indeed, we never saw a man in whom the Scripture, which says, “I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content,” seemed more fully exemplified.
We feel that in this short sketch we are giving a very inadequate account of one whom to know was to love and admire. We sympathise very much with the congregation of Vatten who are deprived of his services, and especially do we feel for the young, to whose credit it may be said that they appreciated his services and highly respected him. May the Lord of the harvest raise up some from among them who will take his place! He has gone to his rest, and with all confidence we may conclude that from the Judge of all he heard the words, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.”
N. M.