THE Editor of the “Protestant Observer” has been paying a visit to Edinburgh, and his account of what he saw in the two leading Established Churches of the city is fitted to fill the minds of true Protestants with a feeling of deep concern. The following is his account of things as he saw them:—
What we found in the Scottish Episcopal Church did not surprise us, for that Ritualistic body does not profess love for the principles of the Protestant Reformation; but what shall we say as to our astonishment at things we saw in the Established Church of Scotland, wherein the battle for the pure Gospel was fought by Knox and other of our saintly fathers? Can it be possible that the home of Scottish Protestantism, the birthplace of sturdy Presbyterianism, has been defiled with the emblems of the apostate Church of Rome? Alas! it is only too true; for traitors are within the camp, sapping and mining for Rome. Sapping is an effort to destroy by digging underneath: it is a process of undermining, and a policy of impairing the constitution of that which it is intended to destroy. Mining is a process of secretly excavating or digging under a wall or building in order to overturn it: it is an attempt to ruin or destroy by hidden means. It is apparent to all who are not wilfully blind that traitors are zealously sapping and mining the very foundations of the Established Church of Scotland; for do we not see its constitution impaired, and are we not constantly warned that, if the unholy work is not checked, the Protestantism of Scotland and its Churches will be destroyed?
Space will not permit us to describe all that we saw in the Established Church of Scotland; and we will therefore confine our attention to St. Cuthbert’s Church, and the Cathedral Church of St. Giles, as it is now commonly called. In St. Cuthbert’s we found a magnificent modern chancel, which would gladden the heart of any Romish priest as a delightful place for the celebration of the abominable Mass with gorgeous ceremonial. In this chancel there is a stone “altar,” the approach to which is by a flight of steps arranged in the most approved Romish manner; and a very small expenditure of money and labour would convert the chancel into a modern Massmonger’s sanctum. The font in St. Cuthbert’s would excite the envy of any Roman Catholic priest, for it is surmounted by an almost life-sized image in bronze of the Virgin and Child, the image being a replica of the sculptured “altar”-piece by Michael Angelo in the Roman Catholic Church of Notre Dame in Bruges, Belgium. The life-sized graven images of the Lord Jesus Christ and His twelve disciples, illuminated by concealed electric lights, are of an outrageously Popish character; and it is a scandal and a sin that such idolatrous Romish rubbish should be suffered to remain within a building under the control of the Church of Scotland. If the rulers and governors of the Scottish Church do not promptly order the removal of all these emblems of superstitious idolatry, they will naturally be abhorred by all honest Christian people as traitors to the Church whose principles they have sworn to maintain and defend, and as enemies to the Word of God.
Our visit to St. Giles’ convinced us that if Jenny Geddes were still alive she would again make diligent use of her stool in that historic fane. Sometimes we found it difficult to realise that we were not in some English Cathedral controlled by advanced Ritualistic clergy; for we found in St. Giles’ many of the insignia of the Romanising party in the Church of England. We saw an elaborately-worked superfrontal, bearing a cross, upon the Communion Table, the top of which was a solid block of marble. Some of our readers may know that a superfrontal is a hanging of embroidered silk, satin, or other material, covering the whole of the front of the “altar” in a Romish church, and that marble or stone is always used for Popish “altars,” upon which they impiously pretend to offer up a victim as a sacrifice for the sins of the quick and the dead. All the offertory bags used for taking up the collection in St. Giles’ bore worked gilt crosses upon their sides, and as there were not already sufficient Popish emblems in the place to please those in charge, the east window has been filled with a stained glass representation of the Crucifixion; though Christian men and women know full well that no mortal sinner could faithfully depict the awful sufferings which Christ endured for the sins of His people. The general arrangements of the chancel, with its elaborately carved chairs, its kneeling desks and books, the brass book-rest on the marble table, the two steps up to the table, the choir stalls, the small images at the east end, the images and the antipendium on the pulpit, reminded us of many a Ritualistic church in England that we have seen. Only take down a few seats at the east end, set up on the table a cross, candlesticks, and vases of flowers, and everything would be quite ready for the solemn celebration of that gorgeous mummery, the Romish Mass.
The side chapel contained a lectern, consisting of a brass eagle of the most approved type, a table (or is it an “altar?”), with a richly-worked superfrontal bearing a gilt Popish cross, an antipendium (that is, a richly-embroidered frontal or covering of silk, satin, velvet, or other material) on the pulpit, and what looks suspiciously like an attempt to familiarise Edinburgh citizens with the appearance of a Popish reredos.
At the Sunday morning service in St. Giles’, the majority of the congregation stood up as the fantastically-robed choir entered the church, headed by an uncomfortable-looking man who carried a pretty stick, to which a processional cross can easily be fixed when the opportune moment arrives for further “levelling up.” The said choir sung all the “amens” in a very mechanical manner, and inflicted upon the congregation one of the worst-rendered anthems we ever had the misery of hearing. The prayers were read from a written or printed form, and, judging from the phraseology, we imagine that their compiler has diligently studied the Prayer Book of the Church of England, but has failed to reach its high standard of excellent literary composition. The Psalms of David, which we always imagined to hold the pre-eminent position in the praise of the Church of Scotland, were reduced to just a few verses from one psalm, the most of the singing consisting of hymns, the “Te Deum” sung to uncongregational music, and the aforesaid anthem badly rendered, apparently for the honour and glory of the choir and organist. Altogether, the service, and the condition of the church, were very saddening, and still further convinced us of the urgent necessity for a second and more drastic Reformation, not only in England, but in Scotland also.
WHEN Christ was born, all the idols that were set up in the world, as historians write, fell down. When Jesus Christ comes to be lifted up in a nation, in a city, in a town, in a family, yea, in any heart, then all idols without and within will fall before the power, presence, and glory of Jesus. Since Luther began to lift up Christ in the Gospel, what a deal of ground has antichrist lost! and he does and will lose more and more, as Christ comes to be more and more manifested and lifted up in the chariot of His word. Many in these days that speak much against antichrist, have much of antichrist within them. And certainly there is no such way to cast him out of men’s hearts, and out of the world, as the preaching and making known of Christ, as the exalting or lifting up of Christ in the Gospel of grace.—Brooks.