HIS LABOURS AND DEATH.
THE following sketch is taken from an old religious periodical. The writer of it—whether he was of the Established Church or the Free Church seems doubtful—gives a very graphic account of Mr. M’Bride and his labours:—
It was about the time of the famous Disruption in the Scottish Church. The two ministers of Rothesay were able men, totally different from each other. Mr. Craig was accomplished, judicious, calm, deliberate; Mr. M’Bride, powerful in person and mind, full of zeal, promptitude, and energy, and of unquenchable desire for his Master’s glory and the salvation of souls. Both “came out.” This is not the place to express any opinion upon the propriety of the step; but nearly all the people followed them: a temporary wooden church was erected, and the two congregations worshipped in it at different hours. Each has now a handsome church, and there is beside a smaller Gaelic church.
Mr. M’Bride was of a Highland family, and he had many of the Highland characteristics—fearless, impetuous, devoted, his work was to him a passion,—and he was loved with an affection which, in some instances, verged upon idolatry. He was of commanding figure, tall, broad chested, with raven-black hair; eyes that sometimes pierced you with their flashing brilliancy, sometimes melted you with their unspeakable tenderness, while he spoke of the terrors of the law or of the hopes of the gospel. His style was forcible, rapid, distinct, simple, as if he cared not a whit about it, only cared to launch his message right into the hearts of men. A more single-hearted man I never knew.
On one occasion he went to preach in a valley among the mountains that skirt Loch Fyne on the west—the valley of Knapdale. The inhabitants were wild and godless. An extraordinary awakening took place, and he returned again and again to instruct, and confirm, and build them up in the faith of the gospel. The whole district was changed—drunkards became sober, the profane became reverent, Sabbath breakers thronged to the place of worship; from families that lately called not upon the name of God, the voice of singing and prayer was heard ascending morning and evening. He asked, and received from his people at Rothesay, leave to devote six weeks in the year to his new diocese of Knapdale and the Isles. But Mr. M’Bride was very anxious to avoid ostentatious mention of the work, and it was only when called on to give a detail of it in the General Assembly that he made public mention of it. He was also “jealous with a godly jealousy” over the motives and principles of the converts themselves, not encouraging them to speak much to him in private, but rather to attend diligently the means of grace in public.
He would talk of the work with enthusiasm in private. One evening, at my house, we led him to speak of Knapdale; he described its former state of ignorance and depravity, and the wonderful contrast now that the gospel had penetrated it; and painted the gathering from cottage and glen to the Sabbath service, or the week day prayer meeting—the old woman with her white “mutch,” and Bible carefully wrapped up; the stalwart fisherman, and comely matron with her tartan plaid, the little child and the nimble youth, all with grave, decent air, and reverent look, where Sabbath games, and Sabbath revelry alone marked so lately the holy day from other week days. He had severe tests of Christianity, was not easily persuaded of a person’s conversion; but there were three hundred, he said, of whom he felt assured that they had truly passed from darkness to light.
The labour of attending to a large congregation in Rothesay, and of visiting his Highland and Island charge, was too much even for his iron frame. Great fears were entertained of his strength being overtasked; but he laboured on, an occasional depression of spirit about his work in Rothesay being the only symptom of failing strength. A friend spent a night with him, and from the tone of his conversation, formed a half suspicion that he was approaching the place of perfect light and perfect love. The atmosphere of heaven seemed around him. But he was quite well, and about to set out for Knapdale. He went to visit some of the islands that lie studding the western sea. He was in a boat with two men, when a mist came over the sea, and they lost their way, beating about all night. Mr. M’Bride assisted in rowing, and then lay down exhausted in the bottom of the boat, and they covered him with a wet sail. In the morning they found themselves on the shore of an island where stood the house of a friend. Great cause of thankfulness this was, for he was weary and very ill. Gladly his friends received him, and thankfully he retired to bed. When the islanders heard of his arrival they surrounded the house; and the large-hearted, unselfish man arose and preached to them. When the service was over, he lay down to arise no more. Violent sufferings attacked him. Medical men were providentially to be procured, but they could not reach his case. Word was sent to his flock, and shocked and agonized, they sent a deputation of elders to visit his dying bed. He could scarcely speak to them; but he could say, “Tell them to cleave to Christ, and love one another,” and so he died.
“They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever.”
Copy letter written by Mr. M’Bride shortly before his death to an esteemed friend in the ministry, who had lost his eldest son, nine years of age.
ROTHESAY, 2nd April, 1844.
MY DEAR SIR,—I was much affected by your note intimating the death of your dear child. I had just heard a moment before that he was ill, and had scarcely heard it when your note intimating his death arrived. I desire to sympathise with you and Mrs. A. I rejoice to find from your note that you are enabled to submit to the holy will of God. This is your duty, and grace, I trust, will enable you fully to perform it. In the death of children, we clearly see the melancholy effect of original sin. I dare not speak of their salvation as some do, but those who bring them to Jesus may rest assured He will bless them, yea, bless them for evermore. You must feel this much. My only brother died in infancy, and though I never, I believe, saw him or felt the sweetness of the society of a brother, yet I have felt pain at his removal. How much more must you feel. But the Lord is able to bear you up. I have been endeavouring to pray that the Lord may bless this dispensation to you and Mrs. A., and He is worthy to be trusted as to this. He is able to comfort you and I hope has done so, and will do so. O commit all your concerns to His gracious hands, and cast all your burdens upon Him. Remember no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous. Nevertheless afterwards it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby. “Blessed is the man,” says the Psalmist, “whom thou chastenest, O Lord, and teachest him out of thy law.” But I feel how insignificant is anything I can write you, but the Lord Jesus is a fountain of everlasting consolation. May He enable you to look to Himself, and grant you all needful support!
With kind regards to Mrs. A.—I am, my dear Sir, yours truly,
(Signed) P. M’BRISE.
The late Dr. Hutchison Stirling.
On 19th March, there passed away at Edinburgh, at the very advanced age of 89 years, James Hutchison Stirling, LL.D., the author of “The Secret of Hegel” and other philosophical works. Hutchison Stirling began life as a medical man, but devoted the last fifty years of his career to the study of the deeper problems of the universe. He was one of Scotland’s eminent metaphysicians. His influence was conservative. His Gifford Lectures and book on “Darwinism” appear to us to make matchwood of the speculations of Charles Darwin, so much associated with the modern theory of evolution.