Sermons on the One Hundred and Thirtieth Psalm

BY THE LATE REV. GEORGE HUTCHESON, A.M., One of
the old Scottish Divines.

THE Rev. George Hutcheson, A.M., was one of the ministers of Edinburgh during the stirring times of the Second Reformation. He was an able, learned, and godly divine, and took a prominent part in the deliberations and activities of the Church of Scotland of that period. He was one of the ministers who attended the noble and pious Marquis of Argyle during his last days prior to his execution upon the scaffold, where he died, in 1661, as a martyr for the principles of the Reformation. Mr. Hutcheson and Mr. Robert Douglas preached before the Marquis in the Tolbooth Church on the last Sabbath which he spent on earth, and “the Marquis had a sweet time as to his soul’s case” (see The Scots Worthies). On the following day Mr. Hutcheson was one of those who accompanied him to the scaffold, and as he was going to the block, Mr. Hutcheson said, “My Lord, now hold your grip siccar” (grip of Christ sure), when the Marquis replied, “You know, Mr. Hutcheson, that I said to you in the church I am not afraid to be surprised with fear.”

During his time in Edinburgh, Mr. Hutcheson wrote several valuable commentaries which are useful to this day. These were on the Book of Job, the Twelve Minor Prophets, and the Gospel according to John. The Exposition of the Minor Prophets came out in parts. Dr. Edmund Calamy, a worthy divine, was “the licencer” of books during this period, and in his epistle to the reader at the beginning of one of these parts, published in 1653, he highly commends Mr. Hutcheson and his works. Among other things, he says: “The truth is, the Book itself represents him to the world in a very fair and beautiful character; for it comprehends much in little, and breathes out much of God and godliness.” Mr. C. H. Spurgeon, in modern times, in his very instructive and interesting book, entitled “Commenting and Commentaries,” writes of Mr. Hutcheson’s works in highly commendatory terms. Of his Exposition of John, Mr. Spurgeon says: “Excellent; beyond all praise. It is a full-stored treasury of sound theology, holy thoughts, and marrowy doctrine.” Personally we are familiar with Hutcheson on John and the Minor Prophets, and can endorse the high commendation.

Mr. Hutcheson spent the closing years of his life as minister in the town of Irvine, where he died in 1674. It may be mentioned, by the way, that Mr. Hutcheson’s wife was the widow of the famous Mr. Andrew Gray, of Glasgow, who died in early manhood after a brief but very bright ministry, and of whom Mr. Hutcheson himself often spoke as “a spark of glory.” It appears that, during Mr. Hutcheson’s ministry at Irvine, he delivered a series of forty-five Sermons on the 130th Psalm, a notable one in the inspired

Psalter, of which the eminent Dr. John Owen has also written an excellent exposition. It would appear that one of Mr. Hutcheson’s hearers took down these sermons, and they were published in 1691, seventeen years after his decease, by one who signs only his initials, “G. L.” We came across the volume a number of years ago, and read it with much interest and appreciation. The style is homely yet taking, while the matter is sound and edifying, and very encouraging in many places to those who are in a low spiritual case. It is our intention to publish the sermons by degrees from time to time, and we trust our readers may appreciate them, and benefit by the perusal. We may mention, in conclusion, that the book begins with a dedication to “the Right Honourable and truly Noble Lady, Lady Margaret Leslie, Countess of Rothes, etc.,” who was known and respected by Mr. Hutcheson in his lifetime. Then, there is an “Epistle to the Reader,” which we give in full, as follows:—

TO THE READER.

I shall speak nothing of the author of this work. He was far above my commendation. He exercised his ministry, first, at Camanell (Colmonell), afterwards at Edinburgh, and lastly at Irvine, where he preached these sermons and finished his course; in all which places, for his piety, parts, and particularly his eminent gift in preaching, his memory is very savoury, and will be to all who will seriously read those discourses of his, which, had he lived to publish himself, they had certainly appeared in a far more advantageous address. But you have them here, as they were received from his mouth, when preached, by the pen of a hearer. And if at any time you meet with anything less clear in them, it is hoped you will attribute it to this or to some inadvertency at the press, and not to the author, who was known to be no ways involved or obscure, but most accurate, most exact, and distinct in all that he did. And to add this, in the by, which is remarked of him by one most pertinently (Dr. Calamy), in all his observations and purposes ye shall find him, though always native, yet frequently very surprising. But the serious perusal of them will say more—both for their vindication and commendation—than I possibly can, which, if you set about, as you ought, they will prove, through the Lord’s blessing, as they were at first and now are intended for thy spiritual benefit, which is the sincere desire of

G. L.

SERMON I.

“Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice: let thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications.”—PSALMS
CXXX. 1, 2.

HAVING a purpose (if the Lord will) to go through this Psalm, I shall speak somewhat in a brief word to the title of it. It is called a Song of Degrees, a title that is common to

fifteen Psalms in this book, from the 120th to the 134th inclusive, and the importance of this title is not easily condescended upon. Popish writers would from this make up fifteen degrees of virtues, each of them still above another, whereby a sinner breathes for redemption by Christ, from a state of sin and misery, and ascendeth to heaven. But this necessitates them to strain their wits, and to put these Psalms on a rack, to find out the distinction of these virtues, and therefore we shall leave it.

The Hebrew word, rendered “degrees,” leads us to somewhat more certain, yet not demonstrative: That these Psalms may be called Songs of Degrees. 1. Upon the account of the way of singing them, the voice in singing them being raised to an high key, as 2 Chron. xx., where it is said, the Levites stood up to praise the Lord God of Israel, with a loud voice on high. It is the same word used here for degrees. 2. There is a reason why these Psalms were to be sung with a loud voice. A Song of Degrees may signify a most excellent song, or a song which in excellency surmounts other songs, and so the word is rendered when it is applied to a man of excellency, 1 Chron. xvii. 17, “Thou hast regarded me according to a man of high degree, or a man of excellency, O Lord;” and so these Psalms may be called Songs of Degrees, because they are most excellent, for the sweet, grave, and pithy sentences they contain. 3. They may be called Songs of Degrees, upon the account of the place where these excellent songs were to be sung with an high voice. The Chaldee paraphrast says, upon the degrees, or stairs, whereby they went up to the temple, or rather, whereby they went up to Mount Sion, the city of David; one of which fifteen Psalms was to be sung on every step of these stairs. And others will have them to be sung in the several mansions of the people that came from the Babylonish captivity, for so we find the word rendered, Ezra vii. 9. These things I only name, and pass them; and I might add one conjecture more, when I consider the affinity that is betwixt the word degrees rendered, and the original that signifies burnt-offering or sacrifice. I incline to think that these songs were sung by the priests and Levites about the altar, while they offered these burnt-offerings or sacrifices.

Having thus briefly spoken to the title, there are other general notes common to this with other Psalms that might be insisted on, which I also pass.

For the penman of the Psalm, he is not defined, nor is it needful to enquire who he was, since the Psalm hath its authority from the Spirit of God, and not from man. It is most like to be a Psalm of David, or that David was the penman, for these doubled expressions, verse 2 of this Psalm, are used by him, Psalms liv., lv., and lxi., and many others.

For the particular difficulty to which this Psalm relates, it is not needful to determine what it was. It may suffice us for taking up the scope of the Psalm in general, that the psalmist is in a

distress, and being in a distress, ye will find him first, wrestling, and then secondly, victorious.

For the first, his wrestling; ye shall take it up in three branches.

1. Ye will find him wrestling with plunging difficulties and perplexities, and these he expresseth under the name of depths, and the way he takes to win out of them is wrestling by prayer (verses 1, 2).

2. Ye will find him wrestling with the sense and conscience of guilt, putting back his prayer, and offering to crush his hopes; and this he wrestleth with by claiming to pardon (verses 3, 4).

3. Ye will find him wrestling with delays to his answer of prayers, or delays of the outgate prayed for; and this he wrestles with by patience and hope (verses 5, 6).

Again, in the last two verses, ye have him victorious; for having gotten an issue, he hoards it not up, he does not conceal it, but he brings it forth and improves it for the use of the people of God, whom he encourageth to hope in God, upon the account of mercy, and pardon, and plenteous redemption; and on the account of his redeeming Israel from all his iniquities.

So much for the scope and partition of the Psalm.

To return to the first two verses, upon which I may be the more brief, that I had occasion to speak to you before of the troubles and trials of God’s people, of prayer and God’s answering prayer; yet we shall not pass this part, but we shall endeavour to gather some things useful from it.

In this his wrestling then, take notice of these four things.

1. Ye have that that the Psalmist is put to wrestle with, which is expressed under the name of depths.

2. The way of his wrestling therewith, out of the depths he cried, “Out of the depths have I cried.”

3. Ye have him reflecting on this his practice, he takes a back-look of it, and he avows it before God, “Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord.”

4. Ye have the prosecution of this his wrestling, or his pleading for audience in a new and doubled suit (verse 2): “Lord, hear my voice: let thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications.”

For the first of these, the depths out of which he cried: I cannot accord to understand it thus, that he prayed from the depths or bottom of his heart. So the commentators I spoke of before understand it of that degree of virtue which is profound prayer from the inward parts or bottom of the heart. There is a truth in that I confess that prayer should come from the bottom of the heart, and in prayer we should write our hearts on our tongues; but I find it not a Scripture phrase, that people are said to pray from the heart when they cry out of the depths. Neither can I understand it of the conscience of sin only, that (as some would understand it) he is under a deep of despair upon the account of guilt that he speaks of (verses 3, 4), and hath a

promise of redemption from verse 8. The word is depths in the plural number, and therefore it is safest to understand it more generally of plunging and sinking difficulties, both outward trouble and inward perplexity resulting thereon, and of the conscience of guilt wakened up in trouble that may come in under these depths; and this interpretation agrees best with the current of Scripture where we find the horrible pit, the miry clay, depths, deep waters, water floods, made use of to hold out great troubles, as Psalms xl. 2; xlii. 7; lxxix. 2, 14, 15.

I shall here touch upon one observation that not only the visible Church, but even the truly godly, may be brought under plunging difficulties and perplexities, both inward and outward, to their great sinking, or at least their apparent sinking. They may be, and are very often in the depths, and put to their prayers in the depths, so it was with the psalmist here, and in these Psalms formerly cited. And in prosecution of this point: 1. I shall first speak a little to the metaphor of deep or depths. 2. How it comes to pass that the Lord’s people are brought to these depths. 3. To a word of use.

First—for the metaphor of deep or depths—I shall shortly offer what I conceive is the import thereof in these four.

1. That which is a deep is a thing very dark. Dig a pit and make it deep, the light of the day cannot penetrate into it. Thus the unintelligible mysteries of seducers are called depths, as Rev. ii. 24, the depths of Satan spoken of. Thus also the wise counsels of God that men cannot indagate¹ are called depths, Psalms xcii. 5, “Thy thoughts are very deep,” and 1 Cor. ii. 10, “The Spirit searcheth all things, yea, the deep things of God.” And thus also Ezek. iii. 6, a people of a strange speech, and of a hard language, whose words the people could not understand, are spoken of; in the original it is a people of a deep lip. Deepness then imports darkness, unintelligibleness, that which is mysterious. And that this notion is not strained even in this case of trouble, is clear from Heman’s lament, Psalms lxxxviii. 6, “Thou hast laid me (saith he) in the lowest pit, in darkness, in the deeps;” where to be in darkness and in the deeps are expressed as synonymous, or one and the same. And truly this is ordinarily incident to the people of God, their deep trials are in themselves so dark, and in their effects so astonishing, that they are often at a stand to know what God says to them by them, and hence are these wherefores and whys as to this or that which is come upon them; as also in reference to their duty, as Jehoshaphat expresseth his distress, 2 Cor. xx. 12, “Lord, we know not what to do.”

But 2. This metaphor of a deep or depths, as it imports that which is dark and unintelligible, so it imports that, out of which it is not easy to get up. Cast a man upon the ground he may easily get up, but cast him in a deep pit he can hardly get up out

¹ Fathom.

of it without help. Some emblem we have of this in Jeremiah (chap. xxxviii.), where he is put into the dungeon, where there was no water, but mire, and he sunk in the mire; Ebedmelech had a hard task to get him up: and the people of God their troubles may be depths upon that account; refuge may fail them, no man caring for their soul (Psalms cxlii. 4). All hope that they shall be saved taken away, as it is said by Paul in that voyage (Acts xxvii. 20). All their expectations of an outgate may be crushed, as Jer. xiv. 19, “Why hast thou smitten us, and there is no healing for us? we looked for peace, and there is no good; and for the time of healing, and behold, trouble!” yea, all their endeavours to extricate themselves out of trouble may be frustrated, Jer. viii. 18, “When I would comfort myself against sorrow, my heart is faint in me;” and Job ix. 27, 28, “If I say, I will forget my complaint, I will leave off my heaviness, and comfort myself: I am afraid of all my sorrows.”

But 3. This metaphor of a deep or depths imports not only that which is dark and hard to get out of, but that which appears ruining. Put a man into a deep pit, if he get none to help him out of it, he must starve and ruin, as Ebed-melech said to the King, they have put Jeremiah in the dungeon, and he will die for hunger in the place where he is (Jer. xxxviii. 9). Put a man in a pit where there is deep water, he will drown, if he be not taken out. So the people of God, their trouble may be such, as not only all ground of hope of outgate may be taken away, but all hope of issue may be accompanied with apparent present ruin. David is put to a humbling posture, when he is put to that, Psalms lxxix. 15, “Let not the waterflood overflow me, neither let the deep swallow me up, and let not the pit shut her mouth upon me.”

But 4. The metaphor of depths in the plural number imports a plurality of them, a multitude of these depths, dark, hard, hopeless, ruining pressures, trysting all together on a child of God, that his sad lot may be like that of the Church, Lam. ii. 22, “Thou hast called as in a solemn day, my terrors round about.” There is a convocation of them, one trouble seldom comes its alone upon the people of God; as one wave uses not to come its alone to beat upon the shore, but trial upon trial, wave upon wave, one depth calling upon another depth, till their trial be perfected.

More particularly, the plurality of these depths may be taken up in these steps. 1. Their outward trouble may be attended with other visible disadvantages; for when a man is under trouble, then ordinarily he is in contempt, Job xii. 5, “He that is ready to slip with his feet is as a lamp despised”—as a dying out snuff—”in the thought of him that is at ease:” hence, Heb. xii. 2, it is said, “Christ endured the cross, despising the shame,” the cross and shame, the cross and ignominy go hand in hand. It is not enough to be in affliction, but thou must be content to be reproached, and counted a fool: yea, not only doth outward

trouble and contempt go ordinarily together, but outward affliction and fighting from nearest relations, which is a load above a burden, Psalms xxxi. 11, “My lovers and friends stood aloof from my sore, and my kinsmen stood afar off.” Psalms lxxxviii. 8, and 18, “Lover and friend hast thou put far from me, and my acquaintance into darkness.”

1. It comes to the depths with the people of God upon this account. That great outward trouble readily wakens the conscience of guilt, as we see of Joseph’s brethren, when they were put into prison, Genesis xlii. 21, “They said one to another, we are verily guilty concerning our brother, in that we saw the anguish of his soul, when he besought us, and we would not hear. Therefore is this distress come upon us.” Yea, outward trouble, and conscience of guilt under it wakened, may break the peace of the mind, and that adds to these depths. “The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity; but a wounded spirit who can bear?” That is deep upon deep, trouble and guilt, trouble and broken mind turn to be the greatest burden.

And 3. It may come to depths with the people of God on this account, that when once the mind is broken, there is no need of many real crosses. The imagination can no sooner hatch an apprehension, but the broken mind will make it a cross; and then so many apprehensions, so many depths are created. And thus ye have some sort of account of the importance of this metaphor, a depth or depths.

I proceed to the second thing, being to name a few considerations for clearing how it comes to be thus with the people of God, that they are brought into these depths. I shall name but a few, having been long in breaking in upon this purpose, which will save me a labour afterward.

And 1. Take this consideration in general, the folly of the people of God puts them to this posture. That is one, Psalms xxxviii. 3, “There is no soundness in my flesh because of thine anger; neither is there any rest in my bones because of my sin.” And verse 5, “My wounds stink and are corrupt because of my foolishness.” Whatsoever there may be of a trial of faith in their trouble, sin is the door at which their troubles, particularly their overwhelming troubles, enter in.

But 2. Because the people of God may sometime through mercy be kept from gross outbreaks; therefore consider that even the ordinary and habitual faults of the people of God will provoke Him to put them in these depths. I shall instance but in these two faults. First, the ordinary fault of negligence in doing duty. I do not say of neglecting duty, custom and conscience may keep them at duty, but ordinary negligence in doing duty hath need of a rousing douk in a depth to set them to their feet: if the psalmist cried out of the depths, and the poor speaks supplications as he doth (verse 2), it intimates there is little crying, little humiliation in ordinary diligence, therefore he sends to the depths

to put an edge upon folk’s diligence, and to teach them to say their prayers in earnest. A second fault in ordinary is, the neglect of ordinary needy dependence upon God in all things; the neglect of going through the wilderness leaning on the Beloved, a small fault as ye would think, but sad in a Christian life to live in this neglect. Hence the Apostle (2 Cor. i. 8, 9) saith, “We were pressed out of measure, above strength, inasmuch that we despaired even of life; but we had the sentence of death in ourselves.” And for what end? To learn us dependence that we should not trust in ourselves, “but in God, who raiseth the dead.”

And 3. Whereas it might be thought that such faults as these and grosser are passed in many others, I shall add, that the Lord’s near relation with His people will not let them win away with their faults, win away who will, Amos iii. 2, “You only have I known of all the families of the earth; therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities”: or as it is in the original, “I will visit upon you your sins.” His people will not want the rod when their faults call for it, want who will.

1. Consider there is this to be looked upon, as a cause of His putting His people in the depths, to wit, His purposes of love to His people. And His allowances upon His people are so rich, that there is need of preparations by trial and afflictions to make them capable of them; for were they not put into the depths, they could not be capable of them. Hence, it is Paul’s remark in the forecited place, 1 Cor. i. 4, 5, “God comforts us in all our tribulation; that we may be able to comfort them, who are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God; for as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ.” We might not want these depths of tribulation, because without them, we could not be capable of the consolations we receive from Christ.

And 5. To add no more, we may take notice of somewhat in the saint’s tenderness above others that occasions these depths. Many folks may be under as great outward trouble that are not so plunged and perplexed with it as they are. Many a man has been tossed as David was by Saul who has not so expressed his resentments as he did. How is this? The tender-spiritedness that is in the people of God occasions their trouble of mind, they see God in their afflictions, and they would fain see more of Him and of His mind as to their duty, and this makes affliction take a deeper stamp and impression on them, and to draw blood of them more than it doth on an unsubdued spirit who hath no mind of God or providence, but hath only the outward trouble to grapple with. Thus we see how it comes to pass that the people of God are put in the depths.

For the third thing I proposed to be spoken to, that is, the use of the doctrine, the whole observations to be gathered from the two following verses are instructions how to improve such a lot,

and, consequently, uses of the point in hand. Therefore I shall content myself to hint briefly at three general words here.

1. From what hath been said, ye would learn to be more jealous of a crossless life, of a life without trouble and exercise. Why? It speaks little of a soul thriving in the life of God. Take notice of that word (Psalms lv. 19) spoken of the wicked, “Because they have no changes, therefore they fear not God.” And that spoken of Moab (Jer. xlviii. 11), “Moab hath been at ease from his youth, and he hath settled on his lees, and hath not been emptied from vessel to vessel, neither hath he gone into captivity; therefore his taste remained in him, and his scent is not changed,” and he rots on his lees. And as a crossless life speaks little thriving in the life of grace, so it speaks to very many, little of God’s love and care. There is a sort of indignation kytheth¹ against sinners that they little notice, and wherein there is a snare, when they get leave to go on in sin and meet not with a cross, when a person will not deinze² one that is going wrong with a reproof, it speaks hatred: so that is a sad word from God (Ezek. iii. 26), “Thou shall not be a reprover to them, for they are a rebellious house”; and that word (Hos. iv. 17), “Ephraim is joined to idols: let him alone.” That is a sad dispensation; a douk to the hazard of drowning in the depths is better company.

2. From this ye would be cautioned not to mistake the sad exercises of the people of God, whose lot in ordinary is outward troubles; they get ordinarily the stakes to keep.³ And to mark it in the by, I wonder what a mistake is befallen us, or rather a distraction is come upon us, that we should stumble at the people of God their want of prosperity; look to the frame of the people of God, they are in ordinary broken folk. Others can bear their afflictions with a sort of gallantry, they can drink them down, rant them down.⁴ But they are broken with their affliction as if they had no spirit at all to bear them; but I say, ye would not mistake, for it is a token of God’s love and care who douks them in the depths, to put them out of the depths to cry unto Him; and it is a more blessed posture to be put out of the depths to cry, than to be in a palace with neglect of prayer. And, therefore, I can call it no better than a distraction to stumble at their want of prosperity; they are the folk that faint and have no might, and yet they will lay by the young men and the youths for all their ranting; because they wait upon the Lord, “they shall renew their strength” (Isaiah xl. 29). This I speak, not to foster discouragement in any, but to caution them that are ready to stumble at the people of God their being in trouble and broken in that condition.

3. And a third word of use shall be, that every one that is in the depths would try how they improve that lot, and this use is the key to open the door to the following purpose, which I shall not

¹ Shown.

² Condescend to give.

³ The hardest or poorest lot.

⁴ Swallow them with noisy mirth.

now break in upon; only remember, “The Lord doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men, to crush under his feet all the prisoners of the earth.” Therefore there must be something that in affliction, when we are in the depths, he is calling us to, and which we would ply to in earnest; and, therefore, we would take heed that the bellows be not burnt, that the founder do not melt in vain, and that we provoke not God to call us reprobate silver, whom he hath rejected (Jer. vi. 29, 30).

(To be continued).

Notes of Alexander Gair and Other Worthies.*

(Continued from page 30.)

ALEXANDER GAIR—SOME ADDITIONAL NOTES.

On one occasion, he made mention of the “tradition” that by splitting the tongue of certain birds with a silver knife, they were brought to make an imitation of speech, and he remarked that many ministers in their teaching had not other or better qualifications than were taught them by learning and money.

Again, he said: “If you have a child to baptise, your minister is he who will name your child, and if your soul is in a tried condition, your minister is he who will clear up your condition to you.”

He was one day speaking of Elijah when he fled from Jezebel after slaying her false prophets, and when he sat down under the juniper tree in great despondency regarding himself, and said, “Take away my life, for I am not better than my fathers.” Sandy remarked that Elijah might have fallen a step lower in his mind, and added inwardly the thought, “No; nor better than the prophets I slew yesterday.” Sandy no doubt gave this comment from his own experience. After slaying “prophets” or ministers in a way of censure, as he often did, he had his seasons of doubt with respect to his personal standing, and felt himself no better than those he had condemned.

The following note will confirm the truth of the preceding. He was travelling home from Wick one day when he was overtaken by a woman, one whom he thought did not know him. He began to ask her what kind of a man was Sandy Gair, and how did the people like him. The woman answered that she could not say much about him. “Well,” said he, “tired am I of that man. Many a weary day have I with him.”

* These Notes from the start have been chiefly taken from note-books belonging to the late Mr. G. Sutherland, Forse, Caithness. The Editor has written short notices of the worthies named, and added a note here and there from his own information. A good many are (D.V.) yet to follow.—ED.

When he was rising some mornings before all the rest in the house, he was asked why he was rising so early. His answer was, “I have a desire for prayer, and if I drop prayer, I will lose my soul.”

Here is a note that Sandy Gair himself told of a worthy woman, known from the place she dwelt in, as “The wife of Arecraggy.” When he visited her, he would say, “Well, how are you now?” “Oh, very well,” was her reply, “in every part, except in my black, miserable heart that cannot be mended or made better.”

When the eminent Rev. John Sinclair of Bruan (who died in 1843) was licensed for the ministry, both Bruan and Lybster congregations desired to get him. Meeting Sandy Gair one day, Mr. Sinclair asked him which of the two places he thought he should go to. Sandy, in reply, quoted Genesis xix. 17, “Escape to the mountain, lest thou be consumed.” Bruan was on higher ground than Lybster. “Then,” said Mr. Sinclair, “you wish me to go to Bruan.” “Oh, yes,” was the answer, and there he went, his own mind undoubtedly being led by the Most High to this decision.

Sandy Gair had a remarkable command of illustration, and made very apt use of it on many occasions. The following is an example. On one occasion, when he was asked to speak to “the question” on a Communion Friday at Latheron, he rose and said: “There was once a Protestant lady who married a gentleman belonging to the Roman Catholic Church. At the birth of their first child, there arose a contention between them as to who would ‘milk foster’ the child. His mother would not take a Roman Catholic nurse, and the father would not take a Protestant one. But there was an ass on the farm, that had milk, and they agreed that the boy should be fed with the milk of the ass, with the result, as it was affirmed, that something of the stupidity of the ass followed him all his days.” The lesson is apparent, and has various applications as a warning against undesirable unions, and unwholesome instruction in religious and spiritual things. When asked, “Who was the penitent prodigal’s elder brother who refused to come in at the prodigal’s return?” he replied, “A graceless formalist.”

He was speaking of the Israelites in connection with their eating the Passover, where they were commanded that if a lamb were found too much for one house, that house should share it with its nearest neighbour. He went on to speak of Christ the gospel passover, and of mutual feeding upon Him, and said, “You and your nearest neighbour spiritually may be twenty miles distant from one another, and yet you may be able to feed upon the Lamb together.”

Referring to his own personal experience on one occasion, he said that he was afraid that “effectual calling” was not yet made perfect in him, because when he found himself able to do

anything spiritually good, he was not willing, and when he found himself willing, he was not able. Exercised persons will understand this saying.

To a person who was complaining one day of his trials and temptations, Sandy said, “The coat that was made for each man suits that man better than any other.”

Speaking of “the ten virgins” in the parable, he gave the warning: “Be you aware: the foolish virgins were not suspected by the world more than the wise were.”

A good minister was to be removed from the congregation of Berriedale to some other place. Sandy was discoursing at his own meeting as usual, when at the close he uttered the following uncommon prayer: “Now, Lord, thou art taking from us Thy servant, and if it be Thy will, give us a Christian in his place; and if not, give us a devil; and if not, give us a dummy. And the glory shall be Thine for ever. Amen.” The meaning is plain. He desired that if they were not to get a sound Christian minister, they would get one whose wickedness would be so manifest that people would be afraid to follow him, and failing either, “a dummy,” one whose speaking would be so weak as to have no influence for evil.

He was one day travelling on the coach with a minister who, though sound in his general doctrine, was rather “high Church” in his ideas. This was in days before the Disruption of 1843. The coach passed the place of worship at Bruan, and the minister remarked with his usual somewhat pompous tone, “That is the Church of Bruan.” “No,” said Sandy, “that is the kirk of Bruan; the Church is the people of God”—a distinction that should not be forgotten.

On another occasion he was working in his field of potatoes. A passer by addressed him and said, “What wonders to-day, Sandy?” “Many,” he replied, “I put them in broken and I am taking them out whole.” We did not hear what special spiritual application our worthy’s ingenious, heaven-taught mind made of the apparently homely but nevertheless wonderful natural process, but there is one application that might have been before his view; Christ’s body was laid in the grave, bruised and broken, but it rose whole and perfect on the morning of the resurrection.

A woman, who was once in Helmsdale (Chirsty Bannerman) said: “At first, whenever I would hear Sandy Gair speaking or lecturing, I hated him, as he took from me all the fancied goodness I had. But after I was brought to the knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus, there were very few I could compare with him.”

God’s promises are like the beams of the sun, they shine as freely in at the window of the poor man’s cottage as of the prince’s palace.—Gurnall.

Daibhidh Ros, Eildeir, Dornoch.

RUGADH Daibhidh Ros ann am baile Mhuilinn, Eilleag, Dornoch. Cha ‘n ‘eil e coltach, mar a chuala sinn ‘o bheul fhein, gu robh e gle laidir ‘nuair a bha e ‘na leanaibh, oir bha e ‘g innseadh dhunn gu robh e aon uair cho lag ‘s gun d’thug a phàrantan duil dhe. Mar bu ghnàth le pàrantan, aig a’ robh curam mu’n anam fein agus anaman an cloinne, chaidh ‘athair a dh’iarraidh duine, air a’ robh mòr mheas anns an aite, mar neach aig an robh inntinn Chriosd, gus an gabhadh e an leabhair, mar a theireadh iad, ri taobh, mar a shaoil iadsan, leabaidh bàis, an leanaibh. Chaidh an duine, maille ri athair Dhaibhidh, agus chuairtich iad dleasnas. Nuair a dh’eirich e bharr a ghluinean, dh’ amhairc e anns an aodainn air athair an leanaibh, agus thubhairt e “Tha thu ‘g amhairc ri a bhàs, ach tha mise ‘g innse dhuit gum bi e aig ceann gu ghùilain, ‘dol a stigh do bhaile Dhornaich.” Agus mar a thubhairt b’ fhiar. Bha Daibhidh gach la, bho’n sin, a’ tighinn air aghaidh ann a’ slainte, “Agus mar a dh’ innis an duine le Dia” theireadh e fhein, “chaidh mi ceann-ruisgt’, cas-ruisgt’ aig ceann na giùlain gus an uaigh.

Bha e mar so, ‘s e gle òg, air fhagail ‘na dhilleachdan: ach, a reir na h-uile coslas, bha’n Ti m’ am beil e sgrìobte “gur e athair nan dilleachdain, agus fear-tighe nam bantraich,” a’ treòireachad anam Dhaibhidh g’ a dh’ ionnsuidh fein. Mun robh e naoidh bliadhna bha e gabhail tlachd anns an urnuigh uaigneach.

Cha’n’eil e coltach gun d’ fhàg athair airgiod a chumadh a’ bhantraich agus na dilleachdain fada ann an comhfurtachd; agus b’ eigin do Dhaibhidh, ‘s e fathast anns na deugaibh, mur a theireadh iad, fasdadha a’ ghabhail aig tuathanach chum buachailleachd laoigh. ‘S ann ann am baile na h’ Eaglais (Kirkton), bho ‘s cionn Dhòisbidh, a bha an tuathanach. Bha mòran sheirbhisich aige, agus cuid dhiubh nan daoine borba, ri na mionnan agus ri iomadh olc eile. ‘Nam measg bha Daibhidh mar a bha Daniel ann an talla rioghal Nebuchadnesair, gun anam a shalachadh. Gheibht’ e air a ghluinibh moch is amoch, agus iomadh àm eile, ann am buaigheil na laogh, a dordadh a mach anam ann an cluasaibh an Ti a thubhairt “An ti a dh’iarais mi gu moch, gheibh e mi.” Agus b’ abhaist do’n tuathanach a bhi tilg-radh suas Dhaibhidh agus a chleachdaidh ris na daoine a bhiodh ri na mionnan, ag ràdh “Bu chòir dhuibh leasan a ghabhail bho bhuachaille na laogh, agus nàir’ a ghabhail de ‘ur cleachdadh.” Ged nach robh ann fhein ach an saoghal, bha e ‘faicinn gu robh Daibhidh anns na h-uile rathad na chuis fharmaid na bu mho na na daoine mòra, laidir ud, ‘s iad nan seirbhisich aig an t-Satan.

Aig an àm a bha’n sin, bha duine urramach, anns na Bacaidhean bho ‘s cionn Dhunrobin, do ‘m ainm Seoras Grèam. Fhuair Daibhidh a rathad a dh’ ionnsuidh a thighe, agus anns na h-aidhcheachan fada geamraidh, ‘nuair a bhiadhadh e na laoigh,

thogadh e air do thigh Sheòrais. ‘Nuair a chitheadh Seòras a’ tighinn e, chuireadh e fàilt’ aoidheil air, agus, do bhrigh gu robh ‘chridhe fhein air a bhlàthachadh le gaol Chriosd, thòisicheadh e air bruidhinn ri Daibhidh mu dheidhinn Fear a ghràidh. Agus is iomadh uair, ‘nuair a bha Daibhidh ‘na sheann duine, a dh’innis e dhuinn iomadh ni gasda mu Sheoras Grèam.

Tha e coltach gun d’thainig Alastair Geàrr, a bha na chuis eagail do mhinistearan gun ghràs, aon uair a’ choimhead air Seòras, agus cuid de dhaoine còire maillle ris. ‘Nuair a thainig iad a stigh air an dorus, agus a chunnaic Seòras iad, dh’eirich e nan coinneamh le faoilte, agus thubhairt e, “A luchd mo chomuinn, an d’ thainig sibh?”; ach bha eagal air gun deachaidh a spiorad a mach tuilleadh ‘s a chòir gu duine agus chronach se e fein ag ràdh “ach, fhearaibh, cha’ bu sibh a dheanadh mo ghnothuich.” Le sin thòisich Alastair Geàrr air Seòras a’ thoir dhe, ag ràdh, “Mar a deanamaidne do ghnothuich, co ‘dheanadh do ghnothuich, do’n d’thug Seòras am freagairt so, “S math a’ chobhair sibh, ach ‘s bochd a’ sabhail sibh.” Mun do dhealaich na seoid bha oidhche bhlàth aca. Chaidh seol a chuir air biadh, agus thugadh air Seòras fhein am beannachd iarraidh. ‘Nuair a thòisich e, ghairm e air ainm an Tighearn, ag ràdh “Gabh truas ri do chaoraich bhochda gun fhiaclan, ‘tha air cipein an as-creidhinn ann am bacaidhean na mi-mhisneachd.”

Am ministear a bh’ anns an sgìre aig an àm, ged nach robh ann, a reir coslais, ach ceann-iùil dhall nan dall, thigeadh e air amaibh a’ choimhead air Seòras. An d’ thig do Sheòrais gabhail ris an leabaidh, is e na shean aois, thainig am ministear a stigh agus dh’ fhaighnich e do Sheòras am faodadh e ùrnuigh a’ dheanamh. Thubhairt Seòras ris gum faodadh. ‘S e urlar talamhainn a bha anns an tigh, agus tha e coltach gu robh eagal air a’ mhinistear, nan d’rachadh e air a ghlùinean, gun salaicheadh e ‘bhriogais aige, agus ‘s ann a thòisich e ri urnuigh na shuidhe air a chathair. Chuir so dragh air Seòras, agus, leis a’ bhata ‘bha aig’ ann an taobh na leapa gu ‘bhi toirt caismeachd do mhuinntir an tighe nuair a bhiodh feum aige air ni, thug e racaid do’n mhinistear tarsuinn an droma, ag ràdh, “An deanadh tu do ladarnas ort a’ dol a dh’urnuigh ri mo Thighearna’ na do shuidh’ air do thulchainn. Mur a teid thu air do ghlùinean, thoir an dorus ort.” So a’ seorsa dhaoine a bha nan cuis eagail do ‘n leithid sin do mhinistearan.

Ach a’ tilleadh a dh’ ionnsuidh Dhaibhidh, tha e coltach, aig an àm a bha’n a so, gun d’fhuair e dhachaidh bho Dhisathuirn’ gu Diluain. Dh’fhalbh e gu math moch air maduinn na Sabaid gu Sgire-Chraoich (Creich), far an robh sàcramaid na suipearach air a chumail air an la sin. Bha e na chleachdadh aig an àm sin aig na ministearan, air an robh eagal Dhe, a bhi toirt earal an deigh narachadh nam bòrd. Air an la so, ‘s e an Urramach Iain Kennedy, a bha anns a’ Chaisteil Ruaidh, a thug an earal, bho na briathran sin a chuir Iacob ann am beul a sheirbhisich, a chuir e

lais na treudaibh an coinneamh Esau, “Co leis thu, agus c’ait a’ bheil thu dol.” Rinn na briathran, agus an teagasg a thug am ministear seachad bh’ uatha, buaidh mhor a thoirt air anam Dhaibhidh; oir gu la a’ bhàis theireadh e, “Cha chuala mi ‘leithid a’ shearmoin a riamh.” ‘Nuair a b’eigin dha tilleadh dhachaidh Diluain a dh’ionnsuidh na laoigh, faodaidh sinn a bhi cinnteach nach b’ ann na b’ ainmig aig an urnuigh uaigneach a bhiodh e.

Bha meas mhòr aig a mhaighstir air, agus ged nach robh e ach gle òg, ‘s ann a chuir e mar fhiachaibh air, gu falbhadh e le daimh reamhar, a bha e’n deigh a reic ri feoladair ann an Lunnainn. Chuir so dragh mòr air Daibhidh, nach robh ‘riamh fada air falbh bho’n ait’ an d’ rugadh e; ach dhearbh an tuathanach dha nach robh neach aige cho earbsach ris gu chuir leo. Dh’iar Daibhidh cead a’ dhol a’ chuir a chomhairle ri Seòras Grèam, agus a dh’iarraidh air a’ bhi ‘g urnuigh air a shon, nam b’e is gum b’eigin dha dol leo.

‘Nuair a chuir Daibhidh an ceill a ghnothuich do Sheòrais, dh’eirich Seòras a mach do’n t-sabhail; agus air dha a bhi tacan an sin, mar a theireadh Daibhidh, “a’ tagradh ris an taobh-shuas,” thainig e stigh, agus thubhairt e, “Theid thu leo, a Dhaibhidh bhochd, agus gheibh thu soirbheas math bho dh’fhalbhas tu gun till thu.”

Thainig am bàta gus a phoirt bheag, agus chuireadh na daimh air bòrd, agus cho luath agus a dh’fhuasgail iad bho thir, fhuair am bàta lan a seòl gus, an ceann tri la, gu robh iad sabhailt’ a stigh an cois abhainn Lunnainn. Tha e coltach gu robh iongnadh air na seòladairean fhein mar a fhuair iad air an aghaidh; oir thainig fear diubh far an robh Daibhidh, agus thubhairt e “A bhalaich, cha chreid mi nach ‘eil mathair agad ‘tha ‘g urnuigh air do shon; oir tha mise an fhad so air a’ mhuir, agus ‘nam mo bheatha cha d’fhuair mi turus coltach ris an turus so.” Liuthraig Daibhidh na daimh gu sabhailte, agus phill e dhachaidh ann an tearuinteachd.

Bha e nise a fàs suas, agus ‘s ann a chuir e aghaidh air an taobh deas. Bha e ann a sin grunn bhlidhnaichean, agus bhiodh e ‘g iarraidh arain na beatha bho bheul na ministearan a bu spioradail a bha aig an àm sin ann am baile Ghlaschu. Bha aon fhear mu’m biodh e ‘labhairt gu tric, Ionatan Anderson. Theireadh e gum b’e duine spioradail a bha ann, agus nach fhac e coimhthional ‘riamh bu rianaile nan coimhthional aige fo eisdeachd an fhacail. Aig àm dealachadh nan eaglaisean, ann a ’43, cha robh e na cheisd air Daibhidh co an taobh a leanadh e. Chuir e stigh a chrannechur comhla ris an Eaglais Shàoir.

Bhiodh Eirionach is Ghoill agus Eileanaich ag obair comhla ris, agus ‘s iomadh naigheachd a thug e dhuinn mun àm sin. Bha aon Eirionach, mu’m biodh e ‘g innse gu tric, a thainig fo bhuaidh na firinn. ‘Nuair a fhuair e eolas Chriosda chanadh e,

A, nach truagh nach b’ aithne dhomh so mun d’ rugadh mi,” a

ciallachadh leis a sin, nam biodh an t-eolas sin aige, nach biodh e air a’ dhol air seachrain mar a chaidh e.

An deigh dha bliadhnaichean a chaitheamh ann an Glaschu, phill e dhachaidh a ris do’n sgìre anns an d’ rugadh e, agus bha croit bheag aige bho ‘s cionn Eilleig. Bha mòran do dhaoine, air an robh eagal Dhe, aig an àm sin anns an sgìre, agus bhiodh iad a’ cumail coinneamh urnuigh air feasgair Disathuirne ann an tigh-sgoile a bha bho ‘s cionn tigh Dhaibhidh, ris an canadh iad, Tigh-sgoile nam Bioraichean. Bha eachan breac aig Daibhidh, agus bha e ‘toirt dachaidh na mònadh leis. Cha robh aige ach aon sac ri thoirt dachaidh, agus ‘nuair a chunnaic e na seann daoine, air an robh eagal Dhe, a’ dol do’n a’ choinneamh, ‘s ann a smuainich e, ‘s gun annsan ach duine òg, nach biodh e na chron ged nach leigidh e as an t-each gus an tugadh dhachaidh an aon sac a bh’ aige ri thoirt dhachaidh; “Agus,” mar a theireadh e fhein, “dh’ fhalbh mi fhein ‘s an each bhreac gu doigheil.” Chaidh na h-uile cuis gu math, gus an robh iad teann air an dachaidh, air an rathad mhor, Daibhidh a falbh ri taobh an each bhreac. Gun fhios, thug an each breac leum as, agus leum e ‘mach troimh ‘n a’ mhòintich, e fhein ‘s a chàr. Chaidh a’ mhòine a sgapadh thall ‘s a’ bhos, ach cha do dh’eirich ni do’n each na do’n chàrn. “Ach fhuair mise leasan,” arsa Daibhidh, “nach do chuir mi srathair ‘riamh tuilleadh air an each bhreac air feasgair na coinneamh urnuigh, agus nach do dh’fhan mi fhein as a’ choinneamh.” Bho’n àm sin a mach gheibhte Daibhidh maille ris na daoine a bha gabhail tlachd ann a bhi deanamh an iarrtas an aithnichte do Dhia, ach cha’n fhaight’ e fein a chuir a’ sàs gu follaiseach.

Bha bràthair-a-mhàthar dha ann an athchosnaich, tuathanas beag ann an ceann shuas an t-Srath. Thug Daibhidh iomadh bliadhna comhla ri bràthair-a-mhàthar, Daibhidh ag obair air an fhearainn, ‘s a gabhail curam de ‘n aite ‘nuair a bhiodh bràthair-a-mhàthar air falbh air ceann ghnothuichean eile. Phòs bràthair-a-mhàthar piuthar do dh’ Aonghas Moraidh a bha ann am baile Lòin, an taobh a’ muigh do bhaile Dhornaich, agus, mar a bha Daibhidh fhein ag innse dhuinn, ged a rugadh e fhein agus Aonghas anns an aon sgire, do bhrìgh gu robh Daibhidh fada air falbh bho ‘n tigh, cha robh mòr eolas ac’ air a cheile, gus ‘na choinnich iad cuideachd oidhche na bainnse. An uair a bha cach a’ gabhail tlachd anns na h-uile seorsa cluich a bhiodh aig na bainnsean aig an àm sin, ‘s ann a bha Daibhidh agus Aonghas, a bha ‘nis air a cheil’ aithneachadh mar dhithis a bha do’n aon spiorad, a labhairt mun a Righ ‘na mhaise, agus an Tir tha cian fad’ as. Bha ceangal air a dheanamh suas eatorra an oidhche sin, nach do dhealaich eadhon am bàs.

(Ri leantainn.)

‘Tis not the having the world, nor having an hand in the world, but having an heart in the world, which God disallows.

An Taillear Ruiseanach.

“IS toigh leam fear-ceàirde diadhaidh,” arsa ùghdar iomrait-each, agus their mise sin mar an ceudna. Tha cuid de luchd-ceàird dhiaidh ’nan daoinibh cho urramach ’s tha anns an tir; chithear am beusan agus an cleachdadh naomh ann an dleasanasaibh eag-samhuil na beatha, agus tha iad a’ dealrachadh mar lòchrain soluis anns an t-saoghal. Tha buaidh chumhachdach aig an leithidibh so thairis air a’ chinne-dhaonna; agus, mar is sona do Bhreatuinn, agus do’n t-saoghal, tha iad a’fàs mòran nas lionmhoire. Tha mòran de na tha air a dheànamh air son cumail suas an t-soisgeil ’nar tir fèin, agus air son craobh-sgaoileadh an t-soisgeil ann an tiribh eile, air a dheanamh le làmhaibh, agus teangaibh, agus sporanaibh agus teaghlaichibh luchd-ceàirde crabhach.

Dlùth ri taobh na muintir òirdheire so càiridh mi mo Thàillear Ruiseanach.

Chaidh an eachdraidh ghoirid agus shimplidh aige gu minic a chur an céill do mhòr-chuideachdaibh air an do dhruigh i gu trom, agus rinn àireamh nach gann aideachadh gu’n d’ fhuair iad mòr-bhuannachd bho eisimpleir. Bheir mi nise seachad a sgeula ann an dòigh a’s maireannaiche, an dòchas gu-m faigh leughadairean cho maith ri luchd-eisdeachd buannachd uaithe.

Nuair a bha e ’na fhiar dhuine òg thaoghail e ann an Sasainn agus roghnuich e bhi ’na sheòladair. Bha e air tùs ’na mharaiche ann an long thràillean le Liverpool agus chaidh e mu thuaiream seachd turusan eadar còrsa na h-Africa agus Innseachan na h-àirde-an-iar. Is uamhasach an cunntas a tha e tabhairt air oilltealachd na Tràill-mhalairt. Bha e “ann am bàsaibh gu minic,” araon am measg nan daoine dubha agus geala, ach theasairg Dia e. An déigh so, ghabh e ann an seirbhis an Righ, agus bha e maille ri Nelson aig cath an Nile. Anns a’ chath so chaill e aon suil, agus a thaobh sin chaidh a phaigheadh dheth; ach is muladach an gnothach, nach d’ rinn a’ bhàsmhorachd a chunnaic e anns na Tràill-longaibh, agus a chaol-thearnadh féin o’n bhas anns a’ chath far an do chaill e a shuil, bròn sam bith a dhùsgadh ann air son peacaidh, no iarrtas air e fein uigheamachadh gu coinneamh a chumail r’a Dhia. Cha d’ rinn! is ann a dh’ fhas an cridhe cloiche cosmhuil ri adamant. Cha robh caraid diadhaidh sam bith làimh ris ann an aon de na coraibh so, gu rabhadh, no earail a thoirt da, no impidh a chur air. Cha robh duine le Dia an sin a chum a stiùradh a dh-ionnsuidh an t-Slanuighear sin a b’ urrainn “a shuilean fhosgladh, agus a thionndadh o dhorchas gu solus, agus o chumhachd Shatain a dh-ionnsuidh Dhè, chum gu faigheadh e maitheanas pheacanna, agus oighreachd am measg na dream ata air an naomhachadh” (Gniomh xxvi. 18). Nach cianail staid na muinntir a tha ’na leithid so de shuidheachadh! Nach truagh an cumantas crannchur an t-seòladair! gu h-àraid an seòladair a tha ùine fhada o a dhachaidh, gun sàbaid gun

searmonaiche gu chur an cuimhne dha gu bheil Dia ann. Cionnus bu chòir do chor nan daoine so dealas na h-eaglais a dhùsgadh, gus am bitheadh “gach long ‘na Betel, agus eiridhe gach seòladair ‘na theampull do’n Spiorad Naomh!”

Nuair a chaidh a phaigheadh dheth as an loingeas-chogaidh, agus a chaith e a chuid airgid uile, thòisich e air a sheann cheàird, agus chuir e seachad a bheatha gu sàmhach air tir. Rè beagan bhliadhnaichean dh’ oibrich e mar fhear-tuarasdail ann an Lunnainn, agus an déigh sin chaidh e gu St. Petersburgh,* agus rinneadh e ‘na fhear-amhairc thairis air obair fharsuinn, ach thug e leis uibhir de nadur a’ mharaiche-chogaidh do’n bhùth, agus bha e air uairbh co buaireasach, agus a’ mionnachadh co uamhasach, as gu-m b’ eigin d’a mhaighstir a phàigheadh dheth. Thòisich e an sin ri cur suas air a làimh féin, agus cheangail se e féin ann an dàimh urramach a’ phòsaidh; dh’ fhàs e ro shuairce, agus shoirbhich a cheàird.

Fhuair mise eòlas air anns an rathad so a leanas:—Air dhomh a bhi a’ comhradh ri aon de mo choithional, thubhairt e rium “choinnich mi a chianabh ri ball de’n Eaglais Ruisich a tha anabarach déigheil air na Sasannaich. Bha e ann an Sasainn agus bruidhnidh e ar cànain-ne gu maith. Ma bhios dad sam bith agad r’a dheanamh ‘na rathad, b’ fhear leam gu-n tugadh tu dhàsan e r’a dheanamh.” “Ciod a’ cheàird a tha e a’ leantuin” dh’ fheòraich mise. “Tha e ‘na mharsanda aodaich agus ‘na Thàillear, agus ro shoirbheach ‘na cheàird.”

Beagan mhiosan an deigh so, chaidh aon de mo chàirdibh òga do Sasainn, agus aig pilltinn dha thug e do m’ ionnsuidh mir de aodach grinn à Siorrachd Iorc † air son còta, agus chuir mi e a dh-ionnsuidh an tàillear Ruiseanaich g’a dheanamh air mo shon; cha robh e fada ‘ga chriochnachadh agus thainig e féin dhachaigh leis. Direach air a’ mhionaid ‘san do ghairm e orm bha duine uasal maille rium air ghnothach, uime sin thuirt mi ris an tàillear: “Dean suidhe car beagan mhionaidean, agus thig mi do d’ ionnsuidh; air an uair leugh an leabhraan beag so; an sin chuir mi leabhraagan (trachd, tract) ‘na làimh.”

Phill mi ris an ùine ghoirid, agus phàigh mi a chunntas dha, agus an uair a bha e a ‘falbh thubhairt e, “tha dòchas agam gu bheil thu toilichte le do chòta.” “Tha mi’ fhreagair mise, “ro thoilichte le mo chòta; cia mar a tha thusa toilichte le mo leabhar?” “Och,” arsa esan “cha-n ‘eil mise uair sam bith a’cur dragh orm féin le leabhraichibh.”

“Nach ‘eil thu,” arsa mise, “tha mi doilich air son sin, a dhuine: tha thu fàs ad sheann duine, agus mur ‘eil thu a’ cur dragh ort féin le leabhraichibh, tha eagal orm gu bheil ni-eigin eile a tha thu a’ dearmad.” “Ciod e sin, a mhaighstir.” “Cuimhnich

* Petersburgh, baile mor no ceann-bhaile Impireachd Rusia. Chaidh a thogail leis an Impire Peadar I.

† Iorc, i.e., York.

tha d’ anam luachmhor! ‘Oir ciod an tairbhe a ta ann do dhuine ged a chosnadh e an saoghal uile, agus anam féin a chaill? no ciod i a’ mhalairt a bheir duine air son ‘anama’ (Matt. xvi. 26).” “Ah!” arsa esan, “tha barail agam ciod a tha thu a’ ciallachadh; tha thu a’ saoileadh gu-m bu chòir dhomh fàs cràbhach.” “Tha, ‘se sin direach e.”

“Beannaich thu,” ars esan, “bhitheadh e eu-comasach dhòmhsa gnothaichean lionmhor mo cheàirde chumail air an adhart nan bithinn cràbhach.”

“Tha thu a’ cur iongantais orm a dhuine; ciamar a thigeadh diadhaidheadh ann an rathad do ghnothaichean?”

“Cuime, nam bithinn diadhaidh, b’ eigin domh dol do’n eaglais air an t-Sàbaid.”

“Gu cinnteach rachadh tu sin; seadh, fos bhiodh aoibhneas ort nuair a thigeadh an t-Sàbaid, a chum gu-n cluinneadh tu ni-eigin mu thimchioll Dhé agus mu shlàinte.”

“Ma ta, tha mise ag innseadh dhuit, gu-m biodh sin do-dheanta dhòmhsa le mo ghnothaichibh; tha deich gillean thar fhichead agam, agus tha mi a’ pàigheadh a’ mhòr chuid de mo chùnntasaibh, agus a’ faotainn a’ mhòr chuid de m’ airgid air an t-Sàbaid; ‘se là a’s mò a tha agam ri dheanamh.” “Ciod a thuirt thu! nach ‘eil thu a’ dol idir do’n Eaglais.”

“Cha-n ‘eil uair sam bith.” “Tha so nas miosa ‘s nas miosa, a dhuine. Thuirt thu ‘nach ‘eil thu a’ leughadh leabhraichean matha; agus cha-n’eil thu a’ dol do’n Eaglais; bi cinnteach dheth gu bheil thu a’ dol do dh-ifrinn. Bha mi o cheann fada am beachd nach rachadh duine do nèamh, a mhàin a chionn gu’m biodh e a’ leughadh a’ Bhiobuil agus a’ dol do’n Eaglais: ach tha mi dearbh-chinnteach nach ‘eil an duine a ni dearmad air na nithibh so a’ dol do nèamh. Ciamar is urrainn thu bhi beò? Am bheil thu a’ creidsinn gu bheil Dia ann?” An so dh’ amhairc e gu seargach orm, agus thubhairt e, “Dia, a dhuine! Dia! Am faca tu Dia riabh?” An sin chriothaich mi ri smuaineachadh cho domhain ‘s a dh’ fhaodas duine dol fodha ann ‘na aingidheachd, agus fhreagair mi, “cha-n fhaca mise Dia, ach chunnaic mi thusa agus is aon thusa de oibribh Dhé.” “Romhaith,” arsa esan, “nuair a thachaireas tu air neach a chunnaic, Dia, bi cho math agus fios a thoirt dòmhsa air. Madainn mhaith dhuit.”

Ghabh an seann duine a chead diom an sin, agus cha-n fhaca mi tuilleadh e, gus an do choinnich mi ris aig adhlachadh a’ charaid a’ chuir mi an eòlas air. Bhuaileadh an duine gasta so le fiabhrus làidir, agus fhuair e bàs; agus chaidh tuireadh mòr a dheanamh as a dheigh. Bha mòran sluaigh aig an tòrradh, agus labhairt mi ris a’ cho-chruinneachadh o’n earrainn chliatach sin, “Thug iad leò an corp, agus, dh’ adhlaic iad e, agus thàinig iad agus dh’ innis iad sin do Iosa” (Matt. xv. 12). Ghuil iomadaidh, agus ‘nam measg chunnaic mi an Taillear Ruiseanach agus na deòir a’ sruthadh sios le ghruaidh aosda, ach cha b’ urrainn mi ràdh cia

dhiù a b’e ni air bith a thuirt mise, no bàs mo charaid a dhruigh air cho trom. Air an t-Sàbaid an déigh sin chunnaic mi e a làthair a rithist; air an dara Sàbaid a ris; agus a ris air an treas Sàbaid.

Bha so glè iongantach ri fhaicinn, gidheadh bha eagal orm gairm air, mun gabhadh e maoim, agus gu-m fanadh e air falbh uile gu léir; ach thuirt mi ri aon de m’chàirdibh, “Am faca tu Mr. B—,” “chunnaic,” ars’ esan, “agus is urrainn mi rud glè thaitneach innseadh dhuit mu dhéibhinn an t-seann duine sin.”

“Nach ann a rìreamh! ciod sin?”

“Tha e air Biobuil Beurla a cheannach, agus ag ràdh gu bheil e suidhichte air a leughadh: seadh agus a leughadh troimhe gu h-iomlan, a chum gu faic e cia dhiù a tha no nach ‘eil na tha thu ag ràdh fior.”

“Uime sin,” arsa mise “tha dòchas d’a thaobh. Tha daonnan dòchas a thaobh duine nuair a thòisicheas e air a’ Bhiobull a leughadh le aire dhùrachdaich.”

Fhuair mi nis e ‘na fhear-frithealaidh cunbhalach air laithibh seachdain, cho maith as air laithibh Sàbaid, agus chunnaic mi gu minic a ghnùis a’ lasadh suas le h-aoibhneas, ach cha do labhair mi riabh ris gu oidhche àraid air Dia-Sathurna. Bha mi am shuidhe ann am sheòmar-sgrùdaidh, nuair a thàinig mo bhean a stigh, ag ràdh, “Tha coigreach a’ feòraich air do shon.” “Co a th’ ann?”

“Cha-n aithne dhomh, ach ‘si mo bharail gur h-e an Taillear Ruiseanach a th’ ann.”

Mar sin dh’ inich mi mach agus fhuair esan fa mo chomhair. Thòisich e, ag ràdh, “Cha-n i oidhche Dia-Sathurna direach an t-àm air son gairm ortsa, a Mhaighstir —, ach tha gnothach beag agam.”

“Ciod an gnothach, a dhuine?”

“Bha toil aig aon de d’ luchd-eisdeachd còta ùr a bhuileachadh ort mar thiodhlac, agus thug mise do d’ ionnsuidh e; tha mi ag earbsadh nach bi thu feargach.” Fhreagair mise, “Cha-n àbhaist dòmhsa a bhi feargach ri neach sam bith, ach gu h-àraidh ri neach a bheireadh dhomh còta ùr; guidheam ort, co an caraid caomhail a rinn so?” “Ah!” ars’ esan, “Se sin pàirt de’n ghnothuch; cha-n ‘eil leis ainm innseadh dhuit.” “An e duine òg a tha ann?” Fhreagair e “Cha-n e.” “An e seann duine a tha ann?” “Is e, seann duine le ceann liath.” An sin sheas e ri mo thaobh, agus a fhalt cho geal ris a’ bhainne, ach cha do smaoinich mi uair gu’m b’ e an duine. “Theagamh, a dhuine, gu-n innis thu do m’ mhnaoi cò a rinn so.” “Innsidh, cha-n ‘eil e mar fhiachaibh orm a chumail an cleith air Mrs. —”; mar sin dh’ fhag mi iad, agus dh’ innis e do m’ mhnaoi gu-m b’e féin an neach a thug an còta ùr dhomh. Mar bu choltaiche cha b’ fhada gus an robh fios agamsa air a’ chuis; agus bu ro neònach na faireachdainnean a ghluaiseadh ann am inntinn leis a’ ghnothuch. Beagan làithean an déigh sin, choinnich mi ris

air an t-sráid, agus thuirte mi ris, “Nise, tha fios agam co e m’ fhear-comain, agus tha mi gu mòr ad chomain air son a’ chaoimhneis so, ach innis domh ciod a ghluais thu gus an còta so a thoirt domh-sa?” An so bhrùchd a dheòir a mach agus thubhairt e, “Ah, a Mhaighstir, mur biodh Dia air mo chridhe atharrachadh, cha smaoinichinn am feasda air a’ chòta a thoirt duit.” “Tapadh leat,” arsa mise, “air son a’ mhineachaidh so, agus ma tha ceangal aig a’ chòta ri atharrachadh cridhe, an sin tha a luach os ceann meas.” Thug e an sin dhomh dearbhadh riochdail gu robh a chridhe air atharrachadh da rireadh. Thòisich e air a chomhairle a chur rium mu thimchioll math spioradail a luchd-oibre. “Tha toil agam fheòraich dhìot a Mhaighstir, ciod bu chòir dhomh dheanamh air son mo ghillean; tha truas ro mhòr agam mu dhéibhinn cor an anama. Ciod e do bheachd bu chòir dhomh dheanamh air an son? Am bu chòir dhomh an Tiomnadh Nuadh a thoirt doibh?” Bha aoibhneas orm nuair a chunnaic mi an comhara so air a’ bheatha spioradail ‘na anam féin, agus chuir mi thuige e air a h-uile dòigh gus an Scrioptur a thoirt doibh. Thug so misneach dha. Bha òige mar gu-m b’ ann air a h-athnuadhachadh mar an iolaire. Ruith e dhachaidh agus ghairm e a ghillean cruinn an ceann a chéile, agus thuirt riutha, “Tha ni àraid agam ri chur an ainmeachadh dhuibh, mo ghillean”; an sin ag tionndadh ri h-aon diù, thuirt ris, “An urrainn thu leughadh?” “Is urrainn a mhaighstir, leughaidh mi Suainis.” Ri aon eile “An urrainn thusa leughadh?” “Is urrainn, a mhaighstir, leughaidh mi Gearmailtis.” Ris an treas fear, “An urrainn thusa leughadh?” “Is urrainn, a Mhaighstir, leughaidh mi, Fionnais,” Ris a’ cheathramh fear, “An urrainn thusa leughadh?” “Is urrainn a Mhaighstir, leughaidh mi Ruisis.” Air dha fhaotainn a mach cia lion de chuid ghillean a b’urrainn leughadh, agus na cainntean anns an leughadh iad, thàinig e do m’ionnsuidh a ris ag ràdh, “Nis, a mhaighstir, tha uam a leithid so de chunntas leabhraichean ann ‘na leithid so de chunntas chànanan; oir tha mi a’ cur romhan nach bi duine anns an obair agam a’s urrainn leughadh as eugmhais an Tiomnaidh Nuaidh bheannaichte.”

(Ri leantainn.)

Notes from Old Divines.

CAN ever meat be so sweet to any as to the hungry man? Or can any have such a relish of plenty as he who has been under pinching straits? The more difficulties the saints have passed through in their way to heaven, the place will be the sweeter to them when they come at it. Every happy stroke struck in the spiritual warfare will be a jewel in their crown of glory. Each victory obtained against sin, Satan, and the world, will raise their triumphant joy the higher. The remembrance of the Cross will sweeten the crown; and the remembrance of their travel through

the wilderness will put an additional verdure on the fields of glory while they walk through them, looking back on the day when they went mourning without the sun.—Thomas Boston.

OUGHT not the creatures, the subjects, the children of God, to mourn when their Creator, their Sovereign, their Father, is dishonoured? Ought not the friends of our Redeemer to feel grieved when He is neglected and crucified afresh? Ought not all who love their country, to lament when they see the same sins prevailing among us which have already drawn the vengeance of heaven on so many once-flourishing kingdoms?—Payson.

“SOME people,” said the pious Philip Henry, “do not like to hear much of repentance; but I think it so necessary that, if I should die in the pulpit, I wish to die preaching repentance, and if out of the pulpit, practising it.”

Notes and Comments.

From Pillar to Post.—In the tremendous conflict that is shaking the nations, it is no wonder that our statesmen are at their wit’s ends and know not what to do or what to say at times. Mr. Lloyd George, on whose shoulders such heavy responsibility rests, is like one who has been driven from pillar to post as new developments in the titanic struggle presented themselves. As Chancellor of the Exchequer his battle cry was, “Silver Bullets”—the nation that had the last shilling would pull through. But important though money be, it was discovered it was not everything. The next rallying cry was, “Shells,” but this, too, though very important could not save us. The gaunt form of Famine appeared on the distant horizon (perhaps not so very distant after all), and the new rallying cry was, “The plough is our hope.” But the tillage of the fields in the British Isles, though of the greatest importance, will not save us from famine unless wheat reaches us from across the seas. And so the latest hope of the Premier of Great Britain is in “Ships.” We hope for the sake of others and for our own sakes that the Prime Minister may not have the distressful experience of finding that ships are very useless unless they have something to carry. But if it would make him and the nation turn his and their eyes to the God who has appointed His Son to be King in Sion, it would, though a painful experience, be a fruitful one.

Charles I. and Saintship.—A member of Parliament recently called attention in the House of Commons to the fact that there was a movement in the Church of England to put the name of King Charles I. into their calendar of the saints. The said member—we forget his name—very appropriately described this movement as disloyal in its nature. King Charles I. was to all intents and purposes a Roman Catholic, and his sons, Charles II. and James II. were avowedly so. The country would not

tolerate a Roman Catholic monarchy, and so the crown ultimately passed from the Stuart line, and became the possession of the Brunswick family, who were heirs a step farther removed. The attempt to enrol Charles I. on the list of the saints is a direct blow to the Puritans, who condemned him to death, and an encouragement to the Jacobites, who still exist, and who hold that Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria, a direct descendant of the Stuarts, and a Roman Catholic, is the real heir to the British throne. The said Prince is one of the chief generals in the German army that is presently fighting against Great Britain and the Allies. We are much indebted to the M. P. referred to, and hope that the pernicious movement, promoted by the Ritualists, may be completely checked. Charles I. was probably more moral and honourable than his sons, but he was not a saint.

Acknowledgment of Donations.

MR. ALEXANDER MACGILLIVRAY, General Treasurer, Woodbine Cottage, Glenurquhart Road, Inverness, acknowledges, with grateful thanks, the following donations up to the 26th May:—

SUSTENTATION FUND.

Mrs. M. Sangster, Brier Grove, Kingussie, £1; Miss M. Macaskill, Carbeth Guthrie, Stirlingshire, 8/; Per Rev. D. Mackenzie—Miss Eliza Mackenzie, Scotsdean, Haslemere, Surrey, 7/ for Gairloch Sustentation Fund; Per Rev. D. Graham—Mrs. MacLean, Otangiwai, New Zealand, £4 for Shieldaig Sustentation Fund.

HOME MISSION FUND.—The late Mrs. Macpherson, Burnside, Insch, Kingussie, £54 (legacy).

JEWISH AND FOREIGN MISSIONS FUND.

“Savings of a deceased Friend,” (Halkirk postmark), £1; Per Rev. N. Cameron—People of Clarence River, N.S.W., Australia, £7 10/; Per Miss MacIver, Young St., Inverness—“A Friend,” £1; The late Mrs. Macpherson, Burnside, Insch, Kingussie, £90 (legacy); Per Rev. J. S. Sinclair—Mrs. Cameron, Glennan, Fort William, 10/.

COLLEGE FUND.—The late Mrs. Macpherson, Burnside, Insch, Kingussie, £45 (legacy).

GENERAL BUILDING FUND.

The late Mrs. Macpherson, Burnside, Insch, Kingussie, £45 (legacy); Per Rev. D. Graham—Mrs. MacLean, Otangiwai, New Zealand, £4 for Lochcarron Building Fund.

MISSION TO FORCES FUND.

Per Rev. N. Cameron—“Wellwisher,” Oban, 10/; “A Friend,” £1, “Two Friends,” Oban, 5/; “A Friend,” Oban, 10/; “F.P.,” Partick, 5/; J. C., 3/; Per Rev. D. Graham—Mrs. MacLennan, sen., Diabaig, 5/; Mr. Duncan MacLean, Annat, Torridon, 3/; S. N. C. (Glasgow postmark), 2/6; “Free

Presbyterian,” Carrbridge, 2/6; Per Rev. J. S. Sinclair—”F.P. Adherent,” 5/, “A Friend,” Diabaig, 10/, “Friends,” Glasgow, 12/, Mrs. Macallister, Greenock, 2/; Mrs. M. J. Mackay, Lucknow, Ontario, 19 6.

Rev. Neil Cameron, Glasgow, acknowledges, with thanks, 10/- from “Well-Wisher,” off Turkish Coast, and 13/ from “Anon,” Australia, for Kafir Bibles; 4/4 from “Anon,” and 5/ from “Queensgate,” London (per General Treasurer, Inverness), for Bibles to Soldiers and Sailors.

Rev. A. Sutherland, C.F., Ripon, acknowledges, with thanks, a parcel of New Testaments for Soldiers from “A Friend,” Badralloch, Dundonnell.

Rev. J. S. Sinclair acknowledges, with thanks, 10/- from “A Friend,” Diabaig, Torridon, and £1 from Mr. A. Mackenzie, Ardindrean, Lochbroom, for “Comforts for Forces Fund.”

Church Notes.

Communions.—Coigach (Ross), and Fort-William, first Sabbath of June; Shieldaig (Ross), second; Dornoch (Sutherland), and Lochcarron (Ross), third; Gairloch (Ross), and Inverness, fourth. Beauly, Lairg, and Raasay, first Sabbath of July; Staffin (Skye), Tain (Ross), and Tomatin (Moy, Inverness-shire), second; Daviot (Inverness), Flashadder (Skye), Halkirk (Caithness), and Rogart (Sutherland), third; Plockton (Ross), fourth; Bracadale (Skye), fifth.

The late Mr. R. Maclellan, Ullapool.—We regret to announce the death of Roderick Maclellan, Corrie Farm, Ullapool, on the 22nd of April. He was an elder and precentor in the Lochbroom Congregation. Loving God, His truth and people, faithful in duty, reproving wrongdoing, loyal to the interests of the congregation, he was highly respected. His mortal remains were interred in Kinlochewe. We extend our sympathy to his widow and daughters.

A. S.

License of Divinity Student.—The Northern Presbytery, at a meeting held at Lairg, Sutherlandshire, on the 25th May, licensed Mr. William Matheson, Divinity Student (native of Canada), as a preacher of the Gospel.

Moderators of Assemblies.—The Assemblies of the Established, United Free, and Free Churches were opened at Edinburgh on the 22nd May. The new Moderators of these Courts were respectively—Professor Cooper, D.D., of Glasgow; Principal M’Kichan, D.D., of Bombay; and the Rev. John Macleod, of Urray (late Chaplain to the Forces).

Mission to Forces.—I desire to express regret that owing to the amount of work which fell to my lot at the meeting of Synod, it slipped my memory to refer to the Mission to Forces.

As Convener of the Committee on Mission to Forces, I desire

to offer the thanks of the Committee, and I am certainly sure of the Synod, had the matter come before it, to our ministers, to their sessions and congregations, for the sacrifice, self-denial and sincere sympathy manifested by all concerned towards our Highland sailors in Chatham and Portsmouth.

N. C.

Mission to Naval Men in England.—The Rev. D. M. Macdonald, of North Uist, has been for several weeks conducting the Mission at Chatham and Portsmouth. It is expected that the Rev. Neil Macintyre, of Stornoway, will (D.V.) succeed Mr. Macdonald in the work.