I.—GOD’S COMMAND.
“Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work : but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God : in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy man-servant, nor thy maid-servant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates : for in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day : wherefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath-day, and hallowed it” (Exod. xx. 8, 11).
II.—GOD’S ENCOURAGEMENT.
“Godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come. This is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptation” (1 Tim. iv. 8, 9). “Hallow my Sabbaths ; and they shall be a sign between me and you” (Ezek. xx. 20).
III.—GOD’S THREATENING.
“Whatsoever soul it be that shall not be afflicted in that same day, he shall be cut off from among his people. And whatsoever soul it be that doeth any work in that same day, the same soul will I destroy from among his people. . . . It shall be unto you a Sabbath of rest, and ye shall afflict your souls” (Lev. xxiii. 29, 30, 32).
I.—MAN’S ENCOURAGEMENT.
“I have by long and sound experience found that the due observance of the Sabbath, and of the duties of it, have been of singular comfort and advantage to me. The observance of this day hath ever joined to it a blessing on the rest of my time.”—Sir Matthew Hale.
II.—THE WORKING MAN’S EXPERIENCE.
“During the war, it was proposed to work all Sunday in one of the royal manufactories, for continuance, not for occasional service; and it was found that the workmen who obtained Government’s consent to abstain from working on Sundays executed more work than the others.”—Wilberforce.
Again, Captain Stansbury, the leader of the United States’ surveying expedition to the region of the Salt Lake, in his official report to the Government, bears this testimony to the value of the Sabbath:—“I here beg to record, as the result of my experience, derived not only from my present journey, but from the observation of many years spent in the performance of similar duties, that, as a mere matter of pecuniary consideration, apart from all higher obligations, it is wise to keep the Sabbath. More work can be obtained from both men and animals by its observance, than where the whole seven days are uninterruptedly devoted to labour.”
III.—MAN’S WARNING.
“Of all the persons who were convicted of capital crimes while he was on the bench, he found few only who would not confess, on inquiry, that they began their career of wickedness by a neglect of the duties of the Sabbath, and vicious conduct on that day.”—Memoir of SIR MATTHEW HALE, Chief Justice of England.
Such are some of the many portions of God’s Word, with man’s testimony to their truth, which might be quoted as appropriate to my subject. To the elucidation of that I now proceed, taking for granted that each of my readers believes in God, and in God’s Bible. With the atheist and the infidel I have at present no dealings. [It is not necessary to show at length that the Fourth Commandment is binding on all time; but the following few observations may not be inappropriate. “The Sabbath was made for man.” It is not said for the Jewish or any other section of mankind, but for man. And it was made coevally with man himself, at the creation—binding from the first, and binding upon all. In the wilderness of Sinai its observance was reinforced, and with an additional reason annexed; not merely, as before, because God had rested; but also because He had brought up His people from Egypt (Deut. v. 12, 15). And again, in the Christian dispensation, a third reason is given:—“There remaineth therefore a rest (or Sabbath) to the people of God. For he that is entered into his rest, he (Christ) also hath ceased from his own works (of redemption), as God did from his (of creation)” (Heb. iv. 10). Men may say that the Sabbath, if binding now at all, is at least less binding than it was originally; but let them look the plain truth in the face, that, so far as reasons for observance are concerned, it is three times more binding now than when at first instituted. Further, God wrote the whole law with His own finger four times:
- In Adam’s heart before the fall ; 2, in the tables of stone ; 3, in the second tables of stone, after fracture of the first ; and, 4, in the fleshly tables of men’s hearts, under the new covenant, as in the first covenant of life with Adam ; and this last writing is going on now day by day. God’s own hand wrote and writes. Would that be proportionate to a mere ceremonial injunction, binding for a time and on a few ? The tables were written on stone, and that for a sign of endurance. ” Oh that my words were now written ! Oh that they were printed in a book ! that they were graven with an iron pen and lead in the rock for ever ” (Job xix. 23). The ceremonial law was written by Moses ” in a book, ” and placed on the side of the ark by the Levites (Deut. xxxi. 26). The tables of the moral law—the Ten Commandments—written by God in stone, were placed in the ark by Moses (Exod. xl. 20). In the obligation of the moral law, the “stranger” is included, along with “him that is not here” (Deut. xxix. 11, 15). The “stranger,” too, is expressly included in the Fourth Commandment ; while he is excluded from observance of the ceremonial law (Deut. xiv. 21). In the “better covenant” of later days, while the covenant is new, it is still the same laws that are written in the hearts of His people (Heb. viii. 8, 10). Finally, Christ came ” not to destroy but to fulfil the law ” (Matt. v. 17), offering to man a complete obedience through faith in Him. ] *
The argument, no doubt, might be made purely physiological ; but I seek a higher platform on which to base the reasoning. ” To the law and to the testimony ; if they speak not according to this word, it is because there is no light in them ” (Isa. viii. 20).
Let it be remembered that man consists of two parts—the mortal and the immortal ; body and soul. The former—fashioned by the wonder-working hand of God out of the dust of the earth, to be the soul’s tenement, and to obey its will—having served the allotted space in time, returns to the earth from which it came. Wearing with labour and worn by disease, it sleeps in death, and rests in the grave till the resurrection.
The latter is at the first breathed by the Spirit of God into the house of clay, and the two live on together—not in purity and perfection of life, however ; for in both there is the taint and deadliness of the fall. The child grows up, the man lives on, in his natural and unregenerate state, a dying body, with a soul that is ” dead in trespasses and sins. ” At death of the body, this soul, immortal as to existence, but unregenerate, undergoes ” the second death. ” But if God’s Holy Spirit, in wondrous mercy and with infinite power, have re-created the dead soul while yet within its living tenement, have breathed again upon the man or child, and given unto him ” a clean heart and right spirit, ” renewed after His own image—that soul, ” born again, ” shall never die ; the first death is past ; ” the second death ” it can never know. For, in
* The paragraph in brackets is a footnote in the book.—ED.
virtue of its union with the Redeemer, the last breathing of the body is but the signal for the soul’s release ; and leaping forth, freed from all temptations and trials, and fightings and fears, while “the dust returns to the earth as it was, the spirit shall return unto God who gave it” (Eccles. xii. 7). When the last trumpet sounds, and all that have ever lived assemble at the throne for judgment, this, to the unregenerate, is the first and only resurrection ; the lost soul and body, united then inseparably, endure together the second death in despair for ever. But to those whom God hath spiritually quickened and renewed, it is the second resurrection ; they have known, and can know, only the first death ; the body, “raised a glorious body,” gives to its soul a pure abode ; and they two live on, throughout the countless ages of eternity, in the never-fading glory of God’s light and God’s love.
Such is the structure and destiny of man—a double existence. First, in time, a speck. Second, in the hereafter, an eternity. Unregenerate, body and soul die twice and for ever ; there is but one resurrection for them, and that is unto condemnation. Regenerate, body and soul know but one death ; and there is for them the second resurrection unto glory.
Which of these fates is thine, O reader? Voluntarily or involuntarily, is not this your aspiration, “Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his?”
But how shall this be? It is of God’s mercy and God’s sovereignty to elect whom He will be to everlasting life ; and He is ever crying aloud to all men, “Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die?”
And are there any special means of grace which God hath appointed, whereby, humbly walking in them, the God-seeking man may hope to meet a gracious Father? Yes ; and among these stands prominently forth the Sabbath. The Sabbath ! That blessed institution was designed alike for the honour of God and the well-being of man. Placed in the middle of the Decalogue ; the Fourth Commandment partakes of both tables ; and the righteous observance of it, while well-pleasing to God, and, as such, accepted by Him, is also a chosen means for man’s possessing “the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come.”
“The Sabbath was made for man ;” and if used by man as God ordained, man’s body and man’s soul alike find it “profitable unto all things.”
— I.—THE BODY.
I.—”SIX DAYS SHALT THOU LABOUR, AND DO ALL THY WORK.”—In that labour which was entailed upon man, “in the sweat of his face” to “eat bread,” we all know that it is the muscular frame which is chiefly exercised. Muscles are the agents of work. For their full development and healthy condition, labour or exercise is
essential. Without this, they grow feeble and flabby; with it, they are stout and strong. And it is therefore in close accordance with the laws that regulate the well-being of man’s economy, that the Decalogue enjoins six days of work in the seven; at once indicating rest from work on the seventh, and employment in work during the other six; giving as little tolerance to idleness on the working days, as to working on the day of rest.
Many examples might be given of the necessity of exercise to muscular development and maintenance. In the child, if exercise be withheld, the whole muscular frame is stunted; it is never developed. In the adult, inaction causes the muscles to shrivel and waste, as if melted away. If a limb only be kept inactive, its muscles wither, while the rest of the frame is vigorous and grown. A broken arm, having been bound up, and kept immovable for a month or more, comes out at the end of that time scarce the half of what it was, the muscles having wasted for want of use. Particular avocations exercise certain muscles much and habitually, while others are kept correspondingly inert; the latter waste, the former grow in bulk as well as in power, perhaps even to such an extent as by their preponderance to cause actual deformity. Beggars, to extort alms from the facile, manufacture a skeleton limb or arm by mere bandaging, knowing that it is enough to cause absorption of the muscles by disuse. And, on the other hand, it is well-known by what constant, great, and yet well-regulated exercise it is that the muscles are so wonderfully perfected in the “condition” of a “trained” man.
Muscular exercise, too, has its secondary beneficial effects on other organs. The skin is kept healthy, and in full play of its most important function. The lungs work more easily and fully. The blood is more thoroughly circulated and arterialised. Indeed, there is a beautiful harmony and reciprocity of operation here. A constant and due supply of arterial blood is essential to the well-being of muscular fibre; muscular exercise promotes healthful respiration; and the respiration so promoted furnishes the arterial blood required.
Hence health as well as strength is given to the working man; and it is seen that God’s primal curse is mingled and associated with much of God’s ever-enduring mercy. The “sweat of the face” is a curse as regards labour and fatigue; and yet it is a blessing in the matter of health and strength. The poor man is doomed to it. The rich take to it. The latter find that health and strength are not to be obtained otherwise; and, accordingly, how many of them do we not observe voluntarily undertaking harder work, though in a different guise, than any poor man’s toil.
In mercy and in wisdom alike, God has decreed, “Six days shalt thou labour.”
II.—BUT MUSCULAR ENERGY IS EXHAUSTED BY CONTINUOUS EXERTION.—Muscles are of two kinds, the involuntary and voluntary. The former are never exhausted by ordinary work;
they know no rest, and no need for it. But voluntary muscles must have rest. By constant action their characteristic property, contractility,* is exhausted. Let an arm be held out with a weight attached, it will at first be tolerably steady; the contractions of its many fibres following in such rapid succession as to give the appearance of one uninterrupted act. But as the arm tires—or, in other words, as the contractility of its muscles is exhausted by powerful and continuous action—it shakes; coming to move in jerks, and then to fall; each contraction being latterly made very distinct and separate, like the spokes of a wheel gradually ceasing from rapid movement.
What happens to an arm may happen to the whole body. And if the entire muscular frame be overworked, by efforts which are either excessive or prolonged, the result must be debility, trembling, exhaustion, faintness, and even death.
Let such overworking be habitual, and then we know, both in men and animals, that decay, disease, and ultimately death, are rendered inevitable.
III.—MUSCULAR ENERGY, CONTRACTILITY, IS REGAINED BY REST, ALWAYS ab intra; AND THIS IN A VARIETY OF WAYS.
- By cessation of effort.—This may be brief, yet effectual. In holding the weight, the arm, which, as if paralysed, had dropped to the side, will in a few moments raise the weight again with a fresh vigour. The soldier who has exhausted his entire muscular system in the posture of “attention,” relaxes at least one-half by “standing at ease;” and that portion so relaxed and rested, speedily recovers its power. Tired of going down hill, it is a relief to be upon the level, or even to ascend; a different set of muscles being brought into play. Breathless and weary in facing the steep, it is a relief to turn one’s back, and ascend still, from a similar cause. Instinctively we know the cause of exhaustion and its cure; the former, muscular play; the latter, muscular rest, whether that be complete and general, or partial and alternate.
How valuable in this point of view are the working man’s stated intervals of rest throughout the busy day! In the quarter of an hour or half-hour at breakfast, in the half-hour or hour at dinner, he gets a double sustenance. In these “blinks of rest,” the food taken nourishes and strengthens the entire body, while the absence of work allows the partially exhausted contractility of the muscular frame to return and accumulate. And whence come the stated hours of beginning and ending the daily work, varying in different kinds of labour, and the rigid enactments in this matter which the Legislature has been constrained to adopt in regard to factories, but from the observation that the human frame cannot endure with impunity more than a certain amount of continuous muscular effort and exhaustion?
* That property, quality, or condition of muscle, in virtue of which it contracts on application of a physical stimulus, or in sequence to a mental act of volition.
- By sleep, “tired nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep.”—A certain amount of time spent in the absence of laborious exertion is essential, we have seen. So is a certain amount of sleep, varying according to circumstances. Here the relaxation of the voluntary muscles is most complete, and all are partakers in the blessed immunity from effort—evidenced by the stertor of deep slumber, indicating that even the muscles of the throat are hanging loose, and idly flapping the breath. The exertion of the whole muscular system soonest exhausts, and the rest of the whole muscular system soonest refits and refreshes. Indeed, the returning contractility may often be witnessed. A dog, thoroughly wearied in the chase, throws itself down exhausted, and stretched out motionless. Having slept for some time, a limb moves once and again; and by and by the body instinctively curls itself up into that crescent form habitual to the sleeping animal. And it is the same in man. Much exhausted, we sleep extended, flat and straight and flabby; begun to be refreshed, we, too, coil up on the side, the whole muscles having now regained some tone; and, ungoverned by the will, the flexors, always the stronger, exert their supremacy over the extensors.
To prevent misconception, however, it must be stated here that rest alone is not sufficient for refitting and maintaining healthy muscular fibre. A constant supply of arterial blood is essential at all times; during the hours of work, to compensate for the constant and rapid waste which muscular action then determines; during the hours of rest, more thoroughly and leisurely to complete the process of renovation and repair.
Sleep at any time is restorative to exhausted nature; but night sleep is especially so. Day is the legitimate time for expenditure in the economy of man’s frame; night is the legitimate time for repair. And, therefore, during nocturnal sleep, not only is there thorough relaxation, giving return of contractility; there is probably also an especial repair, giving a renewed muscular fibre to exercise the contractility which it has regained; just as a man’s hand may not only recover what it had lost but may find itself better able to use it and retain it when recovered.
At night, too, the brain by resting has its functions restored, and the muscle, on awaking, finds its nervous influence re-established, as well as its own inherent contractility; and so is doubly braced for resuming the morning’s work.
Excess of sleep is evil, however, as can readily be understood, on many accounts. But one is specially apparent. The muscles, by want of exercise, will grow flabby and weak. For the well-being of their fibre, work is essential, but an excess exhausts; sleep, too, is essential, but an excess enfeebles.
- By Sabbaths.—The night is the rest or Sabbath of the day; the Sabbath is the rest and Sabbath of the week. The one resuscitates man’s weary frame from the labour of one day; the other from the accumulated fatigue of the six. In man and
animals, the necessity for such sabbatical rest has been abundantly demonstrated in every day’s observation. One of the most striking examples—and let it here suffice—occurred in the first peopling of California. The newcomers were the offscourings of the earth, with but one object—gold. To obtain that, they were ready to adopt all means; they neither feared God nor regarded man. At first they worked, worked incessantly; Sabbath and Saturday knew no change. Still it was dig, dig. But very soon they were obliged to pause and ponder; they had begun to dig something else than gold—they were digging graves; and no long time elapsed ere they were brought to the conviction that it was essential, on the score of mere life and strength, that one day out of the seven should be devoted to rest. And having come to that conclusion, they made a virtue of necessity. They searched out the Sabbath, of which they had lost all reckoning, and kept it, under a physiological compulsion. Godless, they had made up their minds to serve Mammon only; but the God whom they ignored asserted the universality of His law, and compelled them to cease at least from overt acts of their idolatry on that day of the seven which He had made peculiarly His own. Even they found that the well-being of their corporeal frame required on the Sabbath rest from all labour, and especially from the labours of the other six days. He is a fool, physiologically, who works all night. He is a greater fool still, physiologically, who works on the Sabbath-day.
For sabbatical muscular refreshment, sleep is not necessary; the time of that is night—the Sabbath of the day, not of the week. If enough of that have not been obtained previously, a portion of the Sabbath may certainly be devoted to it compensatingly, God preferring “mercy to sacrifice.” But such necessity for Sabbath somnolence must be the result of either accident or mismanagement; the exception not impairing but confirming the rule. If the due amount of sleep have been enjoyed in the nights of the previous six days, there is no necessity for an extra allowance on the seventh. Sabbath sleep, during ordinary waking hours, is neither necessary nor expedient on mere physical grounds.
Few so weary and heavy-laden as the Saviour in His human frame, when He toiled and travelled for three long years on this lower earth, houseless and homeless. The foxes had holes, and the birds of the air had nests, but the Son of Man had not where to lay His head, save on the bosom of His Father. At times so wayworn as to rest on the public well, and beseech a stranger to draw water that He might drink; at times so weary as to fall into deep sleep, while the frail bark that bore Him was struggling with the winds and waves—yet we never read of Him sleeping on the Sabbath-day. He was up and doing what His hand found to do—teaching, healing, or otherwise engaged “about His Father’s business.” True, one whole Sabbath He slept! But then His work was done. The cold sepulchre was His bed: His sleep was the sleep of death.
That was the last Sabbath of the old dispensation—its final day, honoured and hallowed by affording rest to Him who was and is Lord of the Sabbath, as He is Lord of all. Next day, on the Sabbath of the new and better covenant, He arose—“very early in the morning,” “even before it began to dawn,” “while it was yet dark”—leading captivity captive, triumphing over death, and hell, and the grave. And, blessed be God! the sun has never since risen on that Lord’s day, during these more than eighteen hundred years, without proclaiming to all men the finished work of man’s redemption, and that this better Sabbath shall never cease, inasmuch as “there remaineth a rest for the people of God.” The sun, each Sabbath-dawn, proclaims to all creation that Christ, the Sun of Righteousness, “the Lord, is risen indeed.” And all creation wakes to grateful praise in one vast harmony of song. The clear treble of the happy birds is heard, mingling with the murmuring of the trees; and the soft voices of the running streams blend with the deep bass of the mighty ocean. All with one accord sing praise to Him that made and keeps them. Shall man alone be sleeping and silent? Man, who has to sing, not of creation and providence alone, but of redemption too! Man, whose voice should be loudest and clearest in the choir, leading the hymn of praise, and gratitude, and love!
Let not the student, or the man of business, or the hard-working labouring man, be tempted to make a sloth’s holiday of the Lord’s holy day. Throughout the week let the matter of sleep be duly arranged. Sabbath sleep during ordinary waking hours, aye, even from “very early in the morning,” will be found neither necessary nor expedient on mere physical grounds.
Far less necessary or expedient are long walks and romps in road or field. Such muscular exertions come under the category of the week-day labours; and walking in one’s sleep at night is not more ill-timed and inexpedient than is systematic and sustained idle walking on the Sabbath. The muscles need repose. Country excursions—falsely called recreations on that day—will but exhaust them more, especially if the muscular efforts be under an unnatural stimulus, as is too frequently the case—strong drink.
In mercy as well as in wisdom was it ordained in the ancient dispensation, that the Sabbath-day’s journey should be limited to scarce a geographical mile. And in mercy as well as in wisdom it has been enjoined throughout all time, “Six days shalt thou labour; but in it thou shalt not do any work.” The student, the clerk, the sedentarily employed of every class, may be tempted to stretch his cramped limbs on that day, and to breathe his stifled lungs “over the bracken and in the breeze”—but the distant toll of the Sabbath-bell will bid his conscience speak; the stolen pleasure will scarce prove sweet, even for the time; and the summing up of these misspent days will be in sadness and in sorrow.
- By an annual period of relaxation. Night is the Sabbath or rest of the day; the Sabbath is the rest of the week; there should
also be a Sabbath for the year. This is found to be very essential to longevity, and even to ordinary health, especially in the case of inhabitants of towns. During a certain portion of the twelve months, let there be a cessation from ordinary labour; exerting both mind and muscle in quite a different way, and changing both air and scene. The man who is his own master takes this relaxation; the working man should get it. No doubt, it may be very inconvenient, or quite impossible, that workmen and servants should leave their work and service for three weeks or a month at a time, as masters may and do. Sometimes it may be done; and then it should be done. But if the term of annual relaxation cannot be got all at once, without some serious drawback, what are the circumstances in which it cannot be got in instalments, without loss or injury to any interest concerned—nay, with vast advantage to all? None. Let there be the half-holiday in the week, and fifty-two halves will make twenty-six good wholes; equivalent almost, if not quite, to the continuous and more regular vacation. Let men of study, men of business, men of labour, all have their weekly half-holiday, and then, while there is no excuse for, there will be less temptation to, Sabbath desecration.
(To be continued.)
The late Donald Murray, Elder, North Tolsta.
READERS of the Magazine would see from the obituary notice which appeared that another great and serious breach was made in the Stornoway Session by the removal of Donald Murray.
Donald Murray, who was born at North Tolsta, Lewis, 75 years ago, resided all his lifetime in his native township, with the exception of the annual period he served at the East Coast fishing, and one or two short terms he laboured as missionary for the Church outside the island. Over thirty years ago he gave up the fishing vocation, and lived the humble life of a crofter. Latterly he acted as missionary for Tolsta, with a small salary.
As to his early religious experience, we are not in a position to state definitely when he was brought under concern about his soul. Still, we have reason to believe that, at the early age of seventeen years, he realised his ruined and lost condition as a sinner. In this state of mind he probably remained for a year, for he often remarked that the Christ he had when eighteen years old was the same as he had now, and in this connection he often related how he crossed the moor to Barvas Communion and heard “Big” John MacRae preach. From his great regard ever after for Mr. MacRae, it may be concluded that it was on that day in Barvas he was made glad in having peace with God through the Lord Jesus Christ. His frequent reference to the words, “Thou art mine,” made some think that this was the
passage by which he got spiritual relief. He became a member in full communion at the age of twenty-four, and all the long years between that period and the finishing of his course here below, by his life, in precept and example, he adorned his profession. He was, especially in his latter days, one of the most outstanding men connected with the Free Presbyterian Church in the island.
With several of the worthies, older men then, who now inherit the rest that remains for the people of God, he had no hesitation in casting in his lot on behalf of the testimony raised for truth and principle in 1893, a position which he resolutely and faithfully maintained until the end. He was gifted above the average with a strong, retentive memory, with which was combined a ready and candid admission of the author of the anecdote he was about to relate, which made his repetition of it the more valuable. Few, indeed, could lay claim to the rich fund Donald possessed of these apt sayings and illustrations, which were at once pointed and conducive to the edification of his hearers. He was peculiarly fond of quoting Dr. Kennedy and “Big” John MacRae, and the sayings of the men whom he heard forty or fifty years ago were quite fresh in his memory, and he could quote them at will. Biographers of Highland worthies often appealed to Donald to supply them with information out of his abundant store.
When lecturing or speaking to the “question” on Fridays, he could not hide the peculiar delight he felt in dwelling on the experience of the believer in passing from death to life. While no one listening could doubt but Donald was deeply convinced of his lost state as a sinner, yet to an eminent degree it was evident that he knew in his own happy experience the liberty with which the Son maketh free. On such occasions he would not deny the hope he had through grace. Many who were privileged to hear him under a measure of liberty will remember how he would say, “I see such a wide field here that I dare not enter for fear of encroaching further on the time I have already overstepped.” While it could not be said of him generally that he was an eloquent speaker, such as his brother Alexander, yet at times the liberty of mind he enjoyed was manifest in an easy flow of language which captivated the attention of the hearers.
The Free Presbyterian Church in the island, and in North Tolsta in particular, has much reason to mourn his removal. He was most diligent in attending the means of grace, and often, when a young man, walked across the moor on Sabbath from Tolsta to Ness, a distance of ten or twelve miles, and would be the first at the church. Only ill-health, or some unavoidable circumstances, would prevent him from being present on Communion seasons, and it was his great desire during his last illness that he would be able to come to the Stornoway Communion. His genial and social presence will be as greatly missed as that of any of the men gone before him.
North Tolsta will mourn him, not only as their missionary, but as a friend in their several troubles. The sick-bed, house of mourning, or any other case of distress, had a ready and sympathetic response at any hour of the day or night from Donald. He could uncompromisingly hold his distinctive principles, and at the same time prove a welcome visitor to the sick and mourning of the other denominations in the township. It is indeed probable that it was in attending the house of mourning that he contracted his last illness.
During his illness, which only continued about a fortnight, he suffered greatly, but enjoyed much of the Lord’s presence. Like the Apostle Paul, he had “a desire to depart and be with Christ, which was far better,” and was tempted to think that he was guilty of asking the Lord to take him away, simply because of his great suffering. Shortly before he died he was overheard saying, “Thou hast tried me, and I have tested Thee, and Thou hast promised to do me good;” also, “Oh, happy they will be, when they get with Christ.”
This fresh breach on the walls in North Tolsta will not easily be filled up. The congregation at the moment turn wistfully to the field of battle on sea and land, and pray earnestly for the safe return of several promising younger members, who were helpful to the cause in their midst. May the Lord grant their petition! His funeral was attended by the people of the entire township, and by many from Stornoway. We extend our sincere sympathy to his widow and family, and may this stroke be blessed to them and us.
N. MACI.
A London Minister’s Witness.—Rev. Dr. Dixon, the pastor of Spurgeon’s Tabernacle, has been speaking out well for the national acknowledgment of God and Christ. He says: “I do not think our Government ought to be so sensitive about not using the name of God in their proclamations. They have been driven to the other extreme by the flamboyant manner in which the enemy has paraded the name of God. Let us break the monotony by using the name of Christ. My prayer is that Great Britain shall be the first nation in modern times that shall put into official documents the name of Christ. The United States have never done so. No nation that I know of has crowned Jesus Christ, as he must be crowned according to the Second Psalm, if his enemies are to be broken in pieces. I have the conviction that if this nation would officially acknowledge Jesus Christ, we should have victory in twenty-four hours.”
I AM fully persuaded that Scotland shall eat Ezekiel’s book, that is written, within and without, “Lamentation and mourning and woe” (Ezek. ii. 10). But the saints shall get a drink of the well that goeth through the streets of the New Jerusalem, to put it down.—Samuel Rutherford.
An Gaidheal og no Sgeul Aindreais Lindsai.
A NN an Gaeltachd agus an Eileanaibh na h-Alba cha neil aran na beatha ach ro ghann air a sholar don t’sluagh anns na cearnaibh iomlach. O nadur na ducha, agus tainead an luchd aitiche tha iomad teaghlach còrr is astar latha o mheadhonaibh na’n gràs. Dhaindeoin na ni Ministirean, tha earrann mhòr air an cumail air an ais o’ bhi feitheamh gu riaghailteachd air searmonachadh an t’soisgeul; agus cha nion duil bhi gu’m bi ‘n toradh trùm nuair tha ‘n siol air a chur cho gann. Gidheadh nuair tha cothrom air eisdeachd an t’ soisgeil air a dheonachadh, tha e mar is bitheanta air a ghabhail le dian thogradh, agus tha e bhi co ro ainmig air a mhealtain, ga fhagail, ann an caochladh dhoighibh, mis mò meas, agus tha e air a chur gus a bhuil as fearr. Ni ‘n sgeul beag a leanas, ann an tomhas, an ni so shoillireachadh; agus aig an am chèudna bheir e dhuinn eisimpleir thaitneach air gràs Dhè ann am balachan bochd, neach bu toigh leis an Tighearn a dhtsgadh, ann an earrach a’ laithean, gu mothachadh fhaotainn air co cudthromach ‘s a tha nithe diadhaidh: agus nochdaidh e dhuinn cionnas a ni gràs, an dream anns a bheil e riaghladh comasach lamh-an-uachdar fhaotain air gach cruaidhchàs, agus ana-cothrom ge be air bith co mor, agus co lionmhor, ann an toireachd an deigh an neamh-nuid luachmhoir ud air am bheil iad a nis comasach mor phris a chur.
Rugadh Aindreas Lindsai ann am baile Chromba, dlù air Inbherneis, air taobh tuath Alba, o’ phàrantaibh ro bhochd; agus gus ‘m bu toil le Dia n’an uile ghràs anam a dhusgadh gu mothachadh air peacadh, agus fheum air Crìosd, fo’ shearmonachadh an urrummaich, Maighstir Gordon, Ministreir Chromba, bha e anabarrach neo-churamach m’ a leabhar a leùghadh, agus na’ cheann-iuil anns gach gnè aingidheachd a’ measg a chompanaich; ach ‘nuair dhatharraich cumhachd an Spioraid Naoimh a chridhe, dh’fhas e co comthharruicht, airson umblachd do Dhia, agus a dhleasnais d’a mhathair aosda, sa bha e roimhe sin còrr airson aingidheachd. Bha e mu thiomchioll deiradh na bliadhna 1731, no toiseach na bliadhna 1732 (ars’ Maighstir Davidson nach maireann, o Dhenam a’n Essecs, neach a’ thug an cunntas so m ‘a thimchioll), ‘nuair a thainig mi air tùs gu eolas fhaotain air a ghiulan bhochd so, air do aon a chomtharrachadh a’ mach dhomh air an t’slighe gu Eaglais a bha anns a choimhearsachd anns an robh sàcramait shòlainte suipeir an Tighearna gu bhi air a frithealadh. Bha mi aig an am sinn a’ dol thar caoil mara, agus ghabh am ballachan aite-suidhe an toiseach a bhàta, agus ged nach robh cottrom agam’ air comhradh ris cha burra’ mi gun a thabhairt fainear le taignealachd do leanabh bochd, air madainn fhuair, ‘se ceann-ruisgte, cas-ruisgte, dol thar mara a dheiseachd an Fhocail. Dhfheoraich mi ‘m be sud am balachan m’ an cuala
mi o chionn beagan mhiosan, agus nuair chaidh innseadh dhomh gu’m be ‘heart aon, dhamhairc mi air le ro aire, chum ‘s gun aithnean a ris e. Nuair a chunnaic mi e ‘n tigh aoraidh Dhe chum an do choisich e, dhamhairc e cosmhuil ri neach a’ bha ‘g eisdeachd le mòr churam agus toil-intinn—a shuil gu suidhichte air a mhiniteir, mar gun slugeadh e gach focal d’a shearmoin. Thug so misneach dhomh guth a dheanamh air m’ ath-philleadh do Chromba, agus na ceistean a leanas a’ chur ris.
C.—Ciod an taobhar airson an deachaidh tu co fad o’n tigh air an t’seachdain so chaidh, a dheisdeachd searmoin, ri sid co fuar, agus thu gun-bhròg gun stocainn?
F.—Tha e air aithris gu bheil Criosd ri fhaotainn ann an searmonaibh, agus b’ aill leam fios a bhi agam an sgeul fior e.
C.—Tha fios agam gu bheil thu feitheamh air an Seol-follaiseach san aite so: tha fios agam mar an ceudna gu bheil e na chleachdadh aig scolairean leisgeil a dhealbh gu bhi air falbh o’ n leabhrachibh, agus ma s’ ann mar so tha chuis maille riutsa tha thu deanamh aidmheil creidimh na sgà chum do dhion, a chionn gu bheil fuath agad do ‘n leabhar, ni tha gu cinnteach na pheacadh mor dhuil. Innis an fhirinn, agus bi cinnteach nach dean thu breug. An robh a chuis mar tha thu ‘g radh? (Ghnathach mi ‘n doigh cheasnaichidh so cha n’e gu’n robh agam riasan bhi amharasach mu threibhdhreas a ghiullain, ach a chum staid anama fhoghlum na bu mhiona’diche.)
F.—Fhad s a’s eol domh mu’m thimchioll fein s e so mo staid. Tha mi cinnteach gu bheil mi ann an staid nàduir, ach cha’n’eil mothachadh ceart agam air, agus ‘s ann chum beo-mhoothachadh fhaotain air truaighe mo staide ‘thaobh nàduir tha mi dol do ‘n Eaglais; oir chuala mi a’ ministeir again fein aig ràdh mar faiceadh neach agus mar biodh mothachadh aige mar an ceudna air truaighe a staide thaobh nàduir nach robh e comasach dha luach a chur air Criosd.
C.—Ciod ma tha ‘n Tighearn a gealtainn an geur mhothachadh sin air peacadh oibreachadh?
F.—B’aill leam fhoghlum ma tha leithid do mhisnich air a tabhairt anns a Bhiobull. Sheol mi sin e gu Eoin xvi. 7-11, agus mhinish mi dha na bhriathran tha gabhail a steach annsa gearr-fhoirm na h-oibre ghràsmhor tha Spiorad Naomh a’ g oibreachadh ann’ an cridheachaibh na ‘n daoin taghta. Ghlac e ‘m Biobull as mo laimh, agus leugh e na briathran le mòr dhùrachd; gu sonraichte nuair a dh’innis mi dha gu’n robh an gràs so uile air a ghiulan air aghaidh ann an geallanaibh saor bha toirt misnich do aon na chorsan.
C.—Am bheil thu cleachdadh, ùrnuigh?
F.—Cha’n’eil.
C.—Am bheil thu dol co fad o’n tigh a dheitheamh air searmonaibh aig amaibh comanaiche agus gun a bhi cleachdadh ùrnuigh?
F.—Tha mi lubadh mo ghlùn: ach ge do is se so mo ghnà, cuig
uairean, agus aig amaibh sè na seachd uairean san là gidheadh cha chan mi urnuigh ris; oir tha mi mach a Criosd, agus air an aobhar sin a dheasbhuidh spiorad na h-urnuigh.
C.—An robh e na chleachdadh agad anns na bliadhnaibh a chaidh seachd bhi feitheamh air searmoinibh, mar anns na laithibh so.
F.—Gu ruig an leth-bhliadhna so ma dheireadh do’m bheatha, b’e mo ghna’ chleachdadh, searmoin eisdeachd, theagamh aon uair no da uair sa bhliadhna; agus ‘nuair a dheisd mi, bhithinn co sgith mun croichnaicheadh an searmon ‘s gur minic dh-fhag mi ‘n Eaglais ‘sa chaidh mi chluiche.
C.—Cionnas tha e’ tachairt gu bheil thu feitheamh air searmoinibh air laithibh seachduinn a nis co math ‘s air là an Tighearna?
C.—Cha neil e comasach dhomh reusan thoirt seachd, ach amhain nach robh toil agam aig am sam bith roimhe so tighinn a dheisdeachd; a nis cha neil do dhanadas agam fuireach air m’ ais.
C.—An robh thu aig am sam bith a comhradh ri d’ Mhiniteir?
F.—Cha robh; ciod a bharail a bheireadh e, na’n gabhadh balachan bochd mar mise a dhanadas dol da ionnsuidh? Cha mhò thiginn d’ar n-ionnsaidhsa mar cuireadh sibh fios orm. Dh’ fheorach mi, gu dearbh, aon uair do A. W. fear eolas dhuibh fein, cionnas a ghloirachinn Dia, agus dhinnis e dhomh “gu’m ‘be Dia ghloirachadh, aitheanta a choimhead.” An sin, an deigh do Andreas smaointeach ann fein, thubhairt e. Tha mi n’ duil gu bheil mi comasach freagairt a thoirt do’m cheist fein a nis; oir ged tha na thubhairt esan rium fior, gidheadh “tha mi smaointeachadh gu bheil an duine o’ thuiteam Adhaimh neochomasach Dia a ghloirachadh ach trid creidimh ann an Criosd agus umhlachd da aitheantaibh, na neartsan.” Thug am freagrath so ma dheireadh, co tuigseach do fhear aoise, orm fheorach dheth. Cionnas a thaing e chum a leithid sud do eolas? ffreagairt e gu modhail “Tha mi ‘geisdeachd searmonachadh Maighstir Gordon”; mar gun abradh e, “Cha’n’eil m’ eolas idir a reir na’n còthromaibh a tha mi sealbhachadh.” Mar so bha e soilleir, an aite bhi air at suas le uabhar, gur ann bha nàir air bhi co aineolach. Air so chomhairlich mi dha bhi ‘g Urnuigh an’ uaigneas a ghnà, bhi feitheamh gun sgur air orduighibh follaiseach an t-soisgel; bhi umhail da mhàthair, chum mar so nach faigheadh a chreidimh bèum; agus ro aire thabhairt da leughadh, chum gu faiceadh, a cho-scoileirean gu’m bu taitneach a bha urnuigh agus ionnsachadh a co-fhreagrath; seadh, gu’m b’e an t-slighe chinnteach gu fior shoirbheachadh bhi diadhaidh. An deigh moran chomhairlean thabhairt da chum na criche so, ghabh mi mo chead.
Air m’ ath-philleadh do Chromba an deigh bhi air falbh sed miosan, dh’ fheorach mo do Mhaighstir Gordon a bharail air a ghiullan bhochd so, agus ged is neach e co faicilleach aidmheillean creidimh a mholadh ri neach air an do chuir mi riamh eolas, gidheadh, dhaidich e; “Tha ‘eolas air nithibh spioradail a cur
ioghnaidh orm, tha e tighinn do’m sheòmar uair san t’seachduin, agus aig innseadh dhomh ciod a thubhairt Criosd ris, agus ciod a thubhairt Satan ris, agus cionnas a bha e air a ghnàthachadh do ‘n taobh le cheile, co riochdail sa chuireadh fear turuis sios na tighean-osd aig na stad e.”
Air dhomh a leithid do theisteas a chluinntinn o’ neach co creideasach ri Mr. Gordon, bha mhiam orm an gille fhaicinn an treas uair; agus an tra chunnaic mi e thug mi fainear atharrachadh soilleir na ghnuis, agus air dha innseadh dhomh gu’n robh e nis ann an Criosd, thubhairt mi ris. “Ro mhaith, mo ghiullan, is saorsa sin gu deimhin: saorsa tha moran a gabhail orra bhi aca, ach beagan a fein-fhaireachdain: Gidheadh, ma ‘s urra thu freagradh taitneach a thabhairt do bheagan cheistean, a chuireas mi riut, tha mi smaointeachadh gu ‘feud mi deadh bharail altrum umad: toisichidh mi, air an aobhar sin, thar ‘n do sguir mi dhiot, nuair ma dheireadh choinnich sinn.”
C.—Thubhairt thu gu’n robh thu cinnteach bhi ann an staid nàduir, ach nach robh a’ mothachadh ceart agad air; nis, ciod an sealladh agus a’ mothachadh a’ fhuair thu air do staid nàdurra?
F.—Chunnaic mi, Air tìs, gun robh fior aomadh mo chridhe an aghaidh Dhè, agus gu sonruichte an aghaidh rathad innleachd na slainte trid Chriosd: San dara h-aite, Gu’n robh e co neochomasach dhomh mi fein a shaoradh o’n staid thruaigh sin, sa bha e dhomh a ghrian e spionadh as an iarmailt; San treas aite, Nach e mhain gu’n robh mo bheatha san aimsir chaidh seachad na h-aon chùrsa peacaidh, ach mar an ceudna, gun robh eadhon m’ urnuigh, mo leughadh, m’ eisdeachd, maille ri m’ uile dbleas-nais cràbhach, gu tur air an truailleadh le peacadh. Agus, anns a cheathramh aite, Dhaindeoin na nithe so gu leir, mhothaich mi ann am chridhe claonadh co laidir gu’m’ fhireantachd fein a chur air chois ‘s gu’n robh e saothrachail do’n Tighearna thilgeadh sios; gidheadh dh-oirpich mi a chur air chois a ris. Tuilleadh fos, mhothaich mi mo chridhe ri striopchas spioradail gach là, air mo ghiulan air falbh le diomhanas, agus mar so a ghna teicheadh air falbh o’ Dhia:—agus rinn sealladh air na nithe so drùghadh co domhain orm ‘s nach robh fois la’ no oidhich’ agam, gus an robh mi air mo shaoradh le Criosd.
C.—’Nuair tha Criosd ag’oibreachadh a leithid sin do shaorsa, tha e labhirt gu cumhachdach ris a chridhe; an do bhuin e mar so riutsa?
F.—Bhuin; Oir bha na scriobhtuirean a leanas air an càramh, gu cumhachdach, ri m’ anam leis an Spioraid naomh:—”Le gràdh siorruidh ghràdhaich mi thu: uime sin le caoimheas gràdhaich tharruing mi thu” (Jer. xxxi. 3).—”Ni mi ribh coimh-cheangal siorruidh, eadhon tròcairean cinnteach Dhaibhidh” (Isa. lv. 3).—”Thug mi dhuibh oigreachd na muintir sin air am bheil eagal m’ainne” (Psalm lxi. 5).—”Cha’n ftag agus cha tréig mi ‘m feasd thu” (Heb. xiii. 5).
C.—Cionnas tha fios agad gu’n do chàraich an Tighearna na
geallana so riutsa, agus nach do mheall aon chuid Satan no do chridhe fein thu?
F.—Air uairibh tha Satan ga bhrath fein, mar an uair a b’aill leis, leis an fhoical fhiaradh, mo tharruing gu péacach, no mo chlaonadh o dhléasnas; agus anns a chuid as mò, tha mi mothachadh gu bheil oidhirpean gus am focal fhiaradh, an dara cuid, ga m’at suas le uabhar, no ga m’ leagadh sios ann a mi-mhismich: ‘nuair, air an laimh eile, a tha an Tighearna labhairt, tha mi mothachaidh fhoicil freagarrach. Tha mi air uairibh ann an teanntachd, agus an sin labhraidh e; tha mi ga mhothachadh freagarrachd da m’ fhior staid, agus a beothachadh na beatha spioradail a tha mi faireachdain ann am’ anam.
C.—Ciod a tha thu tuigsinn leis a bheatha spioradail ann a’ d’ anam?
F.—Fèumaidh mi aidicheadh nuair mu dheireadh a chunnaic mi sibh, nach robh mo smaointean air beatha spioradail fhaotain o’ Chriosd; ‘se na bha mi g’iarraidh cuibhrionn ann; agus ‘s eagal leam gur lionnfhior iad tha feitheamh air orduidhean follais each air nach eil chram mu’n ni so; seadh feumaidh mise aideachadh gur ann mar so a bha chuis maillle rium fein. Ach nuair a thug Criosd mi gu gloir a phearsa fhaicinn, mar a nis air neamh, fhuair mi so na bheatha, agus chunnaic mi gloir Chriosd co maiseach ‘s nach eil agam cainnt gu chur an ceill; an ni so amhain tha dearbhte, gun d’ambhairc mi air m’uile shonas fein air fhilleadh co mor ann an Criosd ‘s gun do mheas mi ‘n saoghal mar neoni; agus, ged nach eil mi comasach oibreachadh m’anama fein mar ata mi ga mhothachadh, a chur an ceill, gidheadh, tha mi comasach caileigin dheth fhoghlum o’ na tobritchinn tha air an t-slighe o’n tigh gu Cromba’: oir mar tha uisge anns na tobritchibh so, ge beag iad, tha dochas agam gu bheil e mar sin maillle ri m’anam. Tha n-tuisge ann an cuid do na fuarain so air a chomhdach le feur agus luibheannaich, mar sin tha aig uairibh, sealladh air a bheatha so, air fholach uamsa le truailleachd mo chridhe fein: ach mar tha ‘n tuisge ri fhaicinn, air do neach na luibhean a charuchadh le lamhaibh, mar sin tha bheatha so le foillseachadh tìr:—agus mar tha uisge fantuinn anns na tobritchibh so a nis, ann an ceud mhios an fhogharaidh, nuair tha lochain mhòra air tiormachadh suas, mar sin tha dochas agam gu mair beatha Dhè ann a’ manamsa, do bhri’ gu bheil gràdh Chriosd neo-chaochaideach.
C.—Ciod nam faigheadh tu bàs a’ nochd?
F.—O! b’ fhear leam gum faigheadh! O nach b’ e’maireach là bhretheanais! ‘s mise bhiadh cinnteach a bhi gu bràth maillle ris an Tighearna.
An deigh so, bha oibreachadh gràis Dhe cho soilleir r’a fhaicinn ann, ‘s gun d’ innis Maighstir Gordon dhomh; Ars’ esan, Dh’ fhuirich mi fad bliadhna fiach c’amar a rachadh do dh’ obair an Tighearna ann an anam a bhallachain, ach on chunnaic mi a threibhdhreas, agus gun robh gràs Dhe gu soilleir aige, cha
b’ urrainn mi’n comanachadh a dhiultadh dha. Thug mi, uime-sin, cead dha, agus shuidh e aig bord an Tighearna na chuig-bliadh’n-deug: agus ma shuidh b’ àrd-fheil d’a anam e.
Beagan uine ‘n deigh na coinneamh so (ars Maighstir Davidson) chunnaic mi ris e, agus dh’ fheoraich mi dheth cionnas a bha obair Dhe dol air aghaidh na anam: “Tha dochas agam, ars esan, gu bheil i dol air a h-aghaidh; oir o chionn ghoirid tha mi air mo theagasg tuilie do dhiomhraeachd peacaidh fhaicinn, ann am chridhe fein gu sonruichte. Tha mi mothachadh annam claonadh uabhasach gu earbsa dheanamh asam fein, agus gu m’ thaic a leagadh air m’ oibribh cràbhach, agus air a ghràs a fhuair mi, nis mo na air an lànachd a tha ann an Criosd.” Dhinnis e dhomh mar an ‘ceudna a chionn nach robh e air fhiorsrachadh le trioblaidibh mar a bha na naoimh, gu’n robh Sàtan a cur am fiachabh air gu m bu mhac diolain e ‘s nach bu mhac dligheach:
“Ach ceann beagan uine, ars’ esan, thug an Tighearna freagrath dhomh don chunghaill so. Air uairibh tha ‘n Tighearn a folach a ghuis uam car leth là; agus tha fios aige gu’n cuir so tuille trioblaid orm na uile thruighean na beatha ta làthair; tha so a dearbhadh dhomh gur leanabh le Dia, agus nach mac diolain mi, do bhrigh gu bheil mi meas dì lathaireachd Dhe, mar an smachdachadh as geire.”
Air da luchd aidmheil creidimh a thabhairt fainear aon la ga chomharachadh a mach do chàch a cheile, thubhairt e, “Na ‘m biodh eolas aca air mo chridhe, biiodh ioghnadh aca dhiom air caochladh doigh, eadhon airson mo ghràinealachd uabhasaich.” Bha e mu thimchioll toiseach na bliadhna 1749, nuair chunnaic mi mu dheireadh e: choisich e leam tri no ceithir do mhilltean, agus dhinnis e dhomh, gun robh e car iomad mios, fuidh iomadh buaireadh geur, ach gu n do shaor an Tigharna gu gràsmhor e chum solus a ghuis fhaicinn, agus gu gairdeachas a dheanamh na fhireantachd. ‘S fior an ràdh e “Gu bheil slighe an fhirean mar an solus dealrach a dhealruicheas nis mo agus nis mo gu ruig an là iomlan” (Gnath. iv. 18).
A MAN may be certainly the possessor of a property, yet be dubious as to its title, and yet have a good title too. You, with the fear of God in your breast, are as certain of being in heaven as that Christ is there now; but you may not have the certainty in your own breast. You may have, as most of the people of God have, thousands of doubts and fears which may seem to rack you to the very centre, and yet there is a certainty in the things themselves, though your doubting soul may be at an uncertainty about them. Still, it is not good to be ever fluctuating upon a sea of uncertainty; it is good to find the ground solid under our feet, and to have a rock, the Rock of Ages, on which to firmly stand.
—Philpot.
Notes from Old Divines.
HAVING considered the growth of error, my heart is affected and filled with many heavy and perplexing thoughts. I saw, and daily see more and more the growth of Arminian, Pelagian, and Socinian errors; this, with the growth of profanity that is visible, gives me a sad prospect of what may be coming. This observation that follows was strangely fixed upon my thoughts:—(1) The Gospel Truth when first published, was pure, without the mixture of errors; yet (2) When it spread a little, errors quickly were vented to discredit it; (3) Errors in process of time grew; and the farther off from the first times of the Gospel, the farther off from the simplicity and purity; (4) When Christianity obtained external establishment in the world, then there was a remarkable increase of error; (5) Superstition and error at length overspread, and the Lord must both punish and purge; (6) The way He took to do both, was to give up in the sixth century to a general apostacy, under Mohammed in the east, and the Pope in the west. Thus all these errors, as it were, run into one, or run together. That thus the churches were sufficiently punished by these two dreadful plagues, and that there was a purgation by them is plain, in that after the Reformation, truth broke out with a beaming lustre and much purity. Since that time error has had a second growth. Whether the Lord may not take the same method of purging us again by casting all into the furnace, we cannot tell; we must leave it to Himself.—Rev. Thomas Halyburton.
KNOW the Lord and seek Christ. You have a soul that cannot die; see for a lodging for your poor soul, for that clay house will fall! Set your thoughts often upon death and judgment; it is dangerous to be loose in the matter of your salvation. Few, few are saved; men go to heaven in ones or twos, and the whole world lieth in sin. Fear not men, but let God be your fear. Make the seeking of Christ your daily task; seek a broken heart for sin, for without that there is no meeting with Him.—Samuel Rutherford.
NEVER will any man be cured of that worst of disorders—the world in the heart—till he has by faith beheld the salvation of God in the work of Christ.—Cecil.
THE heart of an obdurate sinner may very properly be called his sepulchre, which, by means of a long habit of sin, is shut and closed up against grace, as it were, by a hard and heavy stone, and in which there “is nothing but darkness and corruption.” It is a very great and extraordinary mercy when the Deliverer comes to this prison, when the light shines in this darkness, and holiness itself visits this corruption.—Quesnel.
THE love of Christ! All I can do is but to stand beside His great love, and look and wonder. My debts of thankfulness affright me.—Samuel Rutherford.
Acknowledgment of Donations.
MR. ALEXANDER MACGILLIVRAY, General Treasurer, Woodbine Cottage, Glenurquhart Road, Inverness, acknowledges, with grateful thanks, the following donations up to 24th November:—
SUSTENTATION FUND.
Miss Catherine Williamson, Blanefield, for St. Jude’s, Glasgow, 2/6; B. F. (Pitlochry postmark), 10/; Per Rev. D. Beaton—Legacy, the late Mr. James Scott, Elder, Chesley, Canada, £10 3/.
JEWISH AND FOREIGN MISSIONS FUND.—J. Murray, Esq., Balloan, Dornoch, £7.
COLLEGE FUND.—Mr. A. MacPhail, Farr, Daviot, 3/6.
ORGANISATION FUND.—Mr. A. MacPhail, Farr, Daviot, 3/6.
COMFORTS TO SOLDIERS (Rev. E. MacQueen’s).—”Anon,” Lairg, 5/.
MISSION TO FORCES FUND.
Miss Bessie Mackenzie, Edinburgh, £1; Mr. D. Murchison, The Stores, Rannoch Station, 10/; Moffat Postmark, 5/; Mr. D. Young, Airlie Gardens, Hyndland, Glasgow, 10/; A. Young and G. Young, 1/ each; Aberdeen Wellwisher, 2/6; “A Friend” (Edinburgh postmark), 10/; Mr. J. Gillies, Rutland Crescent, Glasgow, S., 5/; “Two Friends,” Applecross, £1; Miss W. MacLean, Tomatin, 2/6; M. L. H., Glasgow, 15/; “Two Friends,” Springburn, Glasgow, 10/; Mr. William Mackay, Lochside, Overscaig, Lairg, 10/; M. M., Ardneskan, Lochcarron, 10/; Mrs. J. White, Glenburn, Prestwick, 10/; Mr. George Mackenzie, Inverness, 10/; “A Friend,” Manchester, £1, per Rev. N. Cameron; B. F. (Pitlochry postmark), 10/; “Friends,” Staffin, Skye, £1, per Mr. A. Mackay, missionary; “Anon” (Lairg postmark), 5/; B’th, Mauchline, 10/; A. Munro (Drumbeg postmark), 5/; “A Friend,” Edinburgh, 10/, per Rev. N. Cameron; “Comarach,” Drumadrochit, 3/; “A Friend,” Inverness, £1; Mr. Angus Macaulay, Fladda Lighthouse, Cullipool, Oban, 5/; “Kyle of Lochalsh,” 10/; Kirklee Postmark, Glasgow, 5/; Per Rev. J. S. Sinclair—D. Beaton, Matiere, New Zealand, £1, and Miss Finlayson, Garve, 2/6; “Two Friends,” near Beauly, 10/; Mr. Hugh Scott, Denfield, Ontario, 16/5; and “Friends of the Truth,” £1.
COMFORTS FOR THE FORCES FUND.
Rev. J. S. Sinclair acknowledges, with thanks, the following donations:—K. M’Lean, Otangiwai, N. Zealand, 17/; Miss Mackenzie, Weston-Super-Mare, 10/. For Bibles or Testaments to Soldiers and Sailors—”Anon” (Broadford postmark), 15/; Miss J. M. Ross, Wilkie, Sask., 17/6; “Two Women Friends,” Lochinver, 30/; R. Morrison, Tarbert, Harris, 5/; K. Morrison, 1/, and K. Grant, 1/6, H.M.S. “Vernon.”
Rev. Neil Cameron desires to acknowledge, with thanks, the following donations:—For Mission to Forces Fund—Reader of F. P. Magazine, Skye, 10/. For Kafir Bibles—”Friend,” Hyndland, 5/. For Bibles to Soldiers and Sailors—”Two Friends,” Skye, 10/ each; Per Gen. Treas.—”Anon,” Lairg, 5/. For St. Jude’s Sustentation Fund—”Anon,” Glasgow, 3/; “Anon,” Carrbridge, 5/, and 5/ for Rev. J. B. Radasi, and 5/ for Starving Jews.
From Nurse Fraser, Woodlands Road, 10/ for St. Jude’s Sust. Fund, 5/ for the Poor of St. Jude’s, 5/ for Rev. J. B. Radasi, and 10/ for Mission to Forces. From Misses Fraser, same address, 12/ for Disabled Soldiers.
Rev. D. Macdonald, Dusary, North Uist, acknowledges, with thanks, the following donations to North Uist Manse Building Fund:—Mr. Campbell, Wick, £1; Mr. Ralph, Helmsdale, 4/; W. Mackay, Helmsdale, 2/6. Per D. Ross, Sollas: Norman Morrison, E.C. Missionary, 4/; Alex. Morrison, Truimagarry, 10/; John Macdonald, Grenitote, 5/. Per A. Macaskill: John Macleod, Tarbert, 10/, Per J. Macaulay, Westford Inn: A. Ferguson, Clachan, 10/; W. Macdonald, Heisker, 10/; and R. MacVicar, 10/. Per John Macdougall: Corporal Archibald Robertson, Invergordon, £1.
The Treasurer of the Dingwall Congregation (Mr. M. Urquhart, Craig View) begs to acknowledge, with thanks, £1 for the Sustentation Fund, from “H.B.” Isle of Wight.