Or, The Story of the Lord’s Dealings in leading MARY BETHUNE
to Himself upwards of One Hundred and Fifty Years ago:
also, Story of JANET MACLEOD.
BY THE LATE REV. DONALD CORBET, KINLOCHBERVIE.
WITH A PREFACE BY THE LATE REV. ANDREW A. BONAR, D.D.,
GLASGOW.
(Continued from page 153.)
CHAPTER II.
ISLAND OF SKYE.
THERE was one place in the island of Skye where the minister referred to used to preach. It was in the parish of Duirinish, in the northern part of the island. A little girl—Mary Bethune—lived there, and was one of his hearers the last time he was there. She was then a girl of about eleven years of age. In listening to him, she was particularly struck with his text. It was in Psalm lxxviii. 19-20—”Blessed be the Lord, who daily loadeth us with benefits, even the God of our salvation. He that is our God is the God of salvation; and unto God the Lord belong the issues from death.”
Under this sermon her young mind began to think, and the two subjects which filled all her thoughts were—death, and the deliverance which God can give.
Her occupation was that of goat-herd; and while out with her flock day after day, she kept meditating on these themes; she found it impossible to do anything else; whomsoever she met, she questioned about God, who could deliver from the jaws of death; and when she came home in the evening, these were still the subjects of her conversation.
The minister who had so preached to her conscience left the place soon after, and she never saw him again. The minister of her own parish gave her no help: for, after conversing with her, he agreed with her parents and neighbours in the opinion that the girl’s reason was beginning to be unhinged.
However, she was allowed to attend to her duty of keeping the herd of goats, and so she watched for opportunities of putting questions to any she met, on the matter that was her great concern.
After continuing thus for some time, finding none qualified to give her information as to how she could get acquainted with that “Jehovah” to whom it belongs “to rescue fully from death” (as it is in the metrical translation of the Gaelic Psalms), and feeling more and more the necessity of being able to say, “Our God is the God of salvation,” she came to the conclusion that she could not arrive at the privilege her soul hungered after while
remaining in the neighbourhood in which she was. She therefore resolved on prosecuting her inquiry elsewhere.
At that time all necessary commodities not of home growth were procured from Inverness, and conveyed to Skye on horse-back. In her girlish simplicity, Mary Bethune concluded that since so many and such extraordinary things were to be found at Inverness, surely “Jehovah” must be found there too! At all events, she resolved on proceeding to enquire after the knowledge of the Lord elsewhere, and not to give up the search, even if she should need to go as far as Inverness itself.
There were in those days none of the present modes of conveyance from place to place, even in localities more favoured than the districts lying between Skye and the capital of the Highlands. There were no roads from one part of that country to the other. There were many rapid rivers and streams intervening, and none of them had bridges over them, while also the rapids of Kyle-Rhea flowed between Skye and the mainland. But of all that she took no heed. Soul-concern had complete mastery of all her thoughts, and all her affections too.
When she had her mind made up, she at once girt herself for the journey. Her toilet cost her little thought, and less time. She merely washed her hands and face in the stream that ran past her, smoothed her hair as well as she could with her fingers, and bound it up with a snood. She threw her tonnag (a square piece of cloth) around her shoulders, and fastened it across her breast with a wooden pin or skewer, and then, bareheaded and barefooted, she proceeded in quest of the object on which alone her heart was set.
Now, it may be very properly asked, Why she did not ask her parents’ consent? It may also very likely be suggested that having thus set out in disregard of the fifth commandment, she was not likely to obtain the blessing which her soul was so very anxious to gain. But let me here observe that the fault was not solely hers. From what is well known of the state of matters in the place of her nativity at the time, I plead in her behalf her never having been instructed in the knowledge of any part of the truth; and further, her certain knowledge of what the result would have been had she first revealed her resolution to those who were her natural guardians, for assuredly they would have bound her hand and foot, and confined her as a maniac. Hence, in her case, her offence was pardonable, and her resolution was justifiable. Her remaining where she was would, humanly speaking, have resulted in her growing up in as much ignorance of the true God and of the Saviour as did the kids of her flock. Accordingly, from hamlet to hamlet did Mary Bethune proceed, questioning all whom she met. See her now on the way. Some put her off gruffly; some ridiculed her as meddling with what was not suitable for a person of her years. The most regarded her as a person under some strange hallucination.
There was, however, no fear of her starving for want of food: no fear of her being any night without a bed. The county was not then so much depopulated as it is now. There were hamlets, consisting of from four or five to perhaps a score of households, within short distances of each other, over the greater part of the way, in places where now no traces of houses are to be seen. It was, too, the summer season, when everywhere through the hills she could come upon shielings, occupied by persons engaged in tending the flocks, and attending to dairy produce. A poor helpless girl would never fail of meeting with kindness, and sharing in such comforts as the people had. Indeed, the general belief as to her being out of her mind would draw out pity towards the wanderer, whatever some might have thought of her questions, and even they who would at first have spoken roughly, would soon be melted again, so as to help her forward on her journey. Still, there is no doubt she must have had trials and hardships by the way, not a few.
CHAPTER III.
COMMUNION AT INVERNESS.
WHAT time she took to accomplish her weary task is not now known; but the Lord whom she sought after had His blessed eye upon her, ignorant as she still was of Him. Her way, after crossing Kyle-Rhea, lay through Glenelg; and after crossing the heights, she made her way through Glenmoriston. She then found herself at Lochness, by the side of which she walked till she arrived at Inverness. She had now reached the only bridge then spanning the river Ness. It was an oaken bridge, a frail erection, which was carried off some years ago by a flood. The time was that of the administration of the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper in that town. She spoke in her usual strain to those she met, but encountered many strange rebuffs on putting her questions. At last she was led to address one who at once felt a deep interest in the barefooted, bareheaded girl, who had accosted her just as she had many others before.
Mary Bethune observed a person, having the appearance and bearing of a lady, walking along the bridge on her way to the place of worship which she usually attended. To her she made up. Repeated disappointments having intensified her earnestness, she called out—”O lady! is God in this town? and if so, where shall I find Him?” The lady looked at first with amazement, as many others had done on similar occasions—just because an all-important question of this kind is so seldom put. She hesitated a while before replying; and then, on Mary reiterating the question with still greater earnestness, she replied—”Yes, God is in this town. Come you with me, and perhaps you may find Him.” She then took the girl by the hand, walked
with her to the church, and led her in to the seat which she herself occupied.
The services of the day having been begun, Mary Bethune was all attention; and we may suppose her kind friend to have been deeply exercised in prayer for the salvation of the poor friendless child thus providentially thrown on her for protection. The minister engaged in the work that day is said to have been Mr. James Calder of Croy, a true man of God, as was his father before him, and as his three sons were after him. He seemed that day to find the declaration of the whole truth an easy matter; and he had one hearer, at least, who drank in every word he uttered concerning God, concerning the sinner, and concerning the Saviour. And as he became more and more earnest, and more than ordinarily simple and clear while enlarging on the subject in hand, Mary Bethune was enabled clearly to apprehend the truth proclaimed. She could contain herself no longer: she started up, and, clapping her hands, exclaimed—”I see Him now; I understand it all now; I have found Him now! I have found Him! I have found Him!”
Many may regard all this as rhapsody. There have been too many instances in which persons who loudly proclaimed their deliverance from ignorance, doubt, and unbelief, have given occasion for scoffers to deride all such experiences as delusion. In Mary Bethune’s case, however, that moment in the old Gaelic church at Inverness, proved to be the moment of her spiritual birth. She could now forget all her weary wanderings from the western shores of the isle of Skye. She now knew One on whom she could lean with assured confidence for time and for eternity. She realised pardon for the past, and the foundation for a good hope for the future. She might not at that time be able to give such clear answers to questions which might be put to her as she could at a later stage; but she had in her soul a knowledge of the same nature and kind as Anna had when she recognised the promised Messiah in old Simeon’s arms in the court of the Temple at Jerusalem.
The first outburst of enraptured feeling over, she sat with all composure during the rest of the discourse, and joined in the service with the congregation. Mary could now say, “This God is my own God, the God of my salvation;” and she might fully rest on His providence for all that concerned her welfare in life. Even should all the people in church pass out without taking any interest in her, she knew that He who kept her and shielded her all the way, and who had that day revealed Himself to her soul, would raise up some friend to act towards her the part of a guardian. She had that, indeed, already; for the kind lady who led her into church could not now part with her. She conducted her out as she conducted her in; she brought her to her own house, provided for her wants, and watched over her with a mother’s solicitude.
CHAPTER IV.
COMMUNION AT DINGWALL.—JANET MACLEOD.
YEARS passed on. Mary was evidently growing in grace. She had found a home and employment in her benefactress’ house, and continued in her service till the lady died. Then she left Inverness and obtained a place of residence in the parish of Croy, where she could enjoy the ministration of her spiritual instructor in the Lord—Mr. James Calder. Not long, however, after her removal to that parish, Mary was called upon to act towards another Skye wanderer the same part that was performed towards herself by the lady whom she met on the bridge on her arrival at Inverness.
You may have heard of the mineral waters of Strathpeffer, in the neighbourhood of Dingwall, and may have regarded those waters as if they were only recently discovered. So far, however, is that from being the case, that from time immemorial (it appears) they were resorted to by certain classes of invalids. Superstition had long taken advantage of the curative properties of such waters. When Popery prevailed in the land, and even down to the time we are speaking of, if one went to any well such as those at Strathpeffer, he would find all the bushes around covered with rags or handkerchiefs or strips of the garments left by the persons relieved—these being regarded as so many votive offerings commemorative of their thankfulness to the saint who was believed to preside over the healing powers of the wells in question. It was only at a comparatively recent period that such practices were put down by the power of the Gospel.
To this mineral well at Strathpeffer a farmer’s wife from Kilmaluag, in the parish of Kilmuir in Skye, came down, in hopes of recovering from some ailment wherewith she was afflicted. She was accompanied by a daughter, and they remained for some weeks. At that time there were three parishes in the neighbourhood highly favoured. The ministers in each were men of God and men of prayer, abounding in works of faith and labours of love. They had much to do to uproot habits and practices which were the result of ages of superstition and ungodliness. Among such favoured parishes was that of Dingwall, and in good old Mr. Rose’s day, and in the days of his predecessor, Mr. McKenzie, the town was the resort—especially at the times of the administration of the Lord’s Supper—of great numbers of people. Many of them were pious persons, while not a few were drawn by mere curiosity. Among the latter, on the occasion to which our story refers, was the girl from Kilmaluag. She had seen the sacrament of the Supper administered in Skye; she had heard preaching, too, both on ordinary and on sacramental occasions; but she heard now what she had never heard before. She was struck with amazement. She had begun to discover what she was in the sight of the Holy One.
She returned home to her mother under deep conviction of sin, regarding herself as lost, and as being under the curse of God. But there was a hidden something within which led her to seek more and more of the truth, however awful her sense of misery was. Nay, further, although herself under a sense of condemnation, she would have her mother go to Dingwall next day along with her, and hear for herself what had so deeply impressed her.
You would perhaps think that her mother would bless the Lord for what she should have regarded as encouraging the hope that her child would now prize the Physician of souls. Instead of that, not knowing herself what it was to be a sinner, she regarded all her daughter’s fears as groundless; she moreover feared that if her daughter was to go again to Dingwall to hear a sermon, she would be lost to her, or perhaps become crazy. She therefore made preparations for their return to Skye at once; and with this purpose, she replied to her daughter’s solicitations by saying,—
“Janet, you don’t go to Dingwall to-morrow. You and I will stay at home to wash, and to prepare for our journey homewards on Monday.”
“Wash to-morrow?” said Janet; “no, no! To-morrow is Sabbath. Neither you nor I should profane that day, and so break the fourth commandment.”
But to this exhortation Janet’s mother paid no regard. Sabbath found her engaged as she had purposed, and she would insist on her daughter joining her in the desecration of the Lord’s Day.
Janet at first earnestly pleaded with her mother to desist, but it was all to no purpose. She next pleaded for leave to go to Dingwall, but this request was peremptorily refused. The daughter then told her mother that, whatever the consequences might be, she must go to hear the Word of God, and proceeded to arrange her tonnag for that purpose. Seeing this, her wicked mother raised up both her hands, and with fearful oaths imprecated curses on her daughter’s head! She solemnly devoted her to Satan, and charged her at the same time to go away, and never be seen by her again.
Janet screamed bitterly, and ran out of their temporary place of abode. The people from that neighbourhood by that time had all moved away to Dingwall. Her first impulse was to go after them; but after proceeding some way, she felt herself so oppressed with a load of terror that she was compelled to rest.
“What is the use,” said she, “of my going to Dingwall? There is no hope for me. I am under the curse of God, and my own mother has devoted me to the enemy. I can never obtain deliverance. It is as well for me to turn and direct my steps some other way.”
And turn she did. But the Lord, who, unseen and unknown, had His eye on her, by His own Spirit suggested some recollection of a word she had heard—for read she could not. She turned again in the direction of Dingwall, and had proceeded some few
steps, when the enemy, though formerly foiled, again returned to the assault. Her former doubts came on with redoubled power, and she walked back again till something else occurred to her mind which prompted her to “hope against hope.” So again she proceeded in the direction of the place where the Gospel was preached. Matters went on thus for the greater part of the forenoon—Janet sometimes progressing and again returning.
She did reach the outskirts of the congregation at last. We do not know who the minister was who at that special time was speaking; but Janet heard him commending to his hearers the blood of the Cross—holding forth the efficiency of its application for the taking away of guilt, and the removal of a sense of condemnation. As if he had been specially directed to address Janet personally, she heard him say—”Should you be sensible of the overwhelming load of the curse of God, and your mother’s curse along with that, you will find more than enough in this blood for the removal of both, and for rendering you righteous before God.”
Janet heard this. To her it was a word in season. It calmed the tempest within. She sat down at the feet of Christ, and heard with diligent attention. When the congregation was dismissed, all went either to their own homes or to the houses of friends, who showed their hospitality to them as strangers coming to the feast. But Janet had no house to go to; her mother had discarded her; and she might be ready to ask, “What am I to do now?” The Lord had, however, been graciously revealing Himself to her soul throughout the whole afternoon and evening of that day. Why, then, should she fear? Some person might be prompted to show kindness to her; and if not, it was summer, and she could remain outside for one night at least. She heard sermon intimated for next day, and she would wait for that before she would decide as to where to turn her steps. Still, who could doubt that, after all, poor Janet would feel something like a weight on her spirit, or rather be conscious of a blank which sadly needed filling up, when she saw the whole congregation gradually melting away, with none to speak a kind word to her?
But, stop! Who is this coming up, and approaching Janet M’Leod with a kindly smile? This is Mary Bethune, now grown up to womanhood, grown in faith and knowledge, and in Christian experience. She is, moreover, largely acquainted with professing Christians throughout the whole country, and she has come to Dingwall, along with others, expecting a “feast of fat things: of wine on the lees well refined.” She and they have not been disappointed. But now the appearance of a Skye girl has attracted her attention.
Janet’s dress and manner are almost a new sight to her. She speaks to her, and is convinced by her first word that they are both natives of the same isle. Her kind inquiries draw out Janet’s heart all at once. The unvarnished tale is soon told:
the harrowing horrors and the gracious consolation. The two are drawn to each other with an influence far more powerful than that of country and kindred. Janet finds shelter with Mary where she is herself lodged.
From this day forward the two are inseparable. Mary conducts Janet to the domicile occupied by herself in the parish of Croy. They continue to sit together under the same minister (Mr. James Calder) till the day of his removal to the Upper Sanctuary.
After Mr. Calder’s death Mary and Janet found a place of residence, and a ministry which they relished as being profitable to their souls, in the parish of Nigg, in the county of Ross. Mr. M’Adam was then newly translated to that charge, after the parish had been long under the blight of a minister whose coldness had the effect of scattering the Lord’s flock, and of rendering the place of worship a desolation. Under Mr. M’Adam’s ministry those two godly women continued to sit while they lived, supporting themselves by the labour of their hands, respected in the place, and growing in ripeness for the abode of the just, till at the age of about 80 years, they were removed to the enjoyment of the communion of saints above, and the blessedness of uninterrupted fellowship with Him whom they loved so much below.
You may perhaps inquire whether Mary or Janet had any communication with their relatives in Skye? Communication by letter was not then so easy as it is now. Neither of them had learned to write, but Mary had communication with her parents through a namesake of her own, who was minister of Alness, in the county of Ross. She went once to her native place, and remained there for some time; but not having the privilege which she had found so delightful in the land of her adoption, she returned again to that district, and never afterwards visited the isle of Skye.
But she and her companion never failed to wrestle together in prayer for the people in their native island; and I heard a godly minister in Skye, now departed (the late Rev. Roderick M’Leod), give expression to the complacence he felt in connecting the spiritual influences in each of the parishes whence those women came with the continued and persevering entreaties which they were known to have laid at the foot of the Throne in behalf of their native district.
We can now get a glimpse of what the Lord had in view when He permitted His faithful servant Lady Grange to be transported to St. Kilda.
We may learn, moreover, that a minister may be instrumental for good, while he himself may be denied the privilege of knowing that any good has been done. The minister under whom Mary Bethune’s whole soul was roused to seek after the knowledge of the Lord, never knew of the effects produced till Mary and he met beyond the grave. So there may have been
fruit borne by Lady Grange’s example and conversation, which the Great Day alone shall reveal. I myself have traced out memories of persons (in lands fully as dark as St. Kilda was at the time of Lady Grange’s landing), memories which would lead me to believe that those persons were used of God to be lights in a dark place, living witnesses for the truth.
Whatever measure, therefore, of light any of us may have, let it be manifested: and let the Lord do with us, and work by us, as to Him may seem meet. Only let us persevere in prayer unto the end. We may not have our prayers answered in our day, but let us rest assured that the prayer of faith God heareth, and God shall answer, how and when He pleases.
My story is now finished. If the recital may have the effect of stirring up any young person to follow on to know the Lord. I have my reward. If any person, young or old, be incited by the examples here related, to regard everything else as vile in comparison with the knowledge of Christ and Him crucified. I would earnestly bid him God-speed; let him press on till he know for himself this Saviour “who was delivered for our offences, and was raised again for our justification,” till he be “begotten again unto a lively hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.”
Ordination of Rev. William Matheson at Dingwall.
THE Northern Presbytery met at Dingwall, on Monday, 6th August, for the purpose of ordaining the Rev. William Matheson, probationer, as an ordained missionary to the Free Presbyterian Mission in Canada. The Rev. D. Macfarlane, Dingwall, conducted public worship, preaching from the text 1 Peter v. 2, 3. The sermon, which is given on another page, was listened to with rapt attention. Mr. Matheson then answered the questions usually put to probationers at their ordination, and signed the formula in the presence of the congregation. Thereafter, he knelt, and by solemn prayer was set apart for his office, receiving the right hand of fellowship from the members of the Presbytery. The Rev. Neil Cameron, Glasgow, who was associated with the Presbytery, then addressed Mr. Matheson in a few fitting and impressive sentences. A becoming solemnity characterised the proceedings, and we bespeak for Mr. Matheson the prayers of God’s people that he may have the Lord’s protection in crossing the Atlantic, and His blessing as he enters on his labours in the wide and important field covered by the Free Presbyterian Mission in Canada.
D. B.
THE devil is in the pulpit, when the prophets, or preachers of God smother, or halve, or adulterate the message of their Master.
—Bishop Hall.
The late Mr. Donald Sutherland, London, S.W.
IN writing a brief notice of Mr. Donald Sutherland, who died at the Free Presbyterian Manse, Wick, on Sabbath the 22nd July, the writer feels, owing to his relationship, that he cannot speak as freely as he might otherwise do, but as he was present during the last days of Mr. Sutherland’s earthly pilgrimage, he takes the liberty of putting on record a short account of one, who, during the few brief years he served Christ, gave unmistakable evidence of the reality of the change which came, when he was turned from darkness to light.
Donald Sutherland in his youth had abundant opportunities of witnessing in the character of many Christian worthies in Wick and Caithness, now at their everlasting rest, what the grace of God could do, and through his home-training and influences, he entertained a strong attachment to them, which his generous disposition showed by many acts of kindness. But the example set by these Christian men and women could not change the unrenewed heart nor keep Donald, like many others, though otherwise moral and honourable, from the frivolities of a fallen world. These he then enjoyed with zest. The very warmth and kindness of his nature were used by Satan for his own ends, and Donald expressed sincere regret after his conversion that he had lived so long a life without God, and had travelled so far into the far country. About ten years ago, however, God laid His hand upon him, and brought him to the very gates of death, and showed him his sins. “I thought,” he used to say, speaking of that experience, “that I was on the very brink of hell, and if God would stop my breath, I was lost forever; every time I felt my breath getting weaker, I dreaded it would stop, and that in a few moments I would open my eyes in hell.” When he came through that fiery furnace, he was a changed man, and the manner of life he lived afterwards showed plainly that the change was the work of the Spirit, and therefore all of grace. It was after this change that the Free Presbyterian Mission was started in London, and for its establishment and success, he threw the whole energy of his warm and impulsive nature into the movement. With his like-minded companion and office-bearer (Corporal William Grant, Cromarty), he laboured night and day for its prosperity, and watched over its welfare with prayerful interest. On his death-bed he made reference to his connection with the Mission. “Many a happy day,” he said, “I had in His service the few years I served Him. I used to be very happy singing the Psalms in the hall in London [he was leader of the praise in English], and especially did these words in the 105th Psalm warm my heart:—
“Egypt was glad when forth they went,
Their fear on them did light.
He spread a cloud for covering,
And fire to shine by night.
They ask’d, and he brought quails: with bread
Of heav’n he filled them.
He open’d rocks, floods gush’d, and ran
In deserts like a stream.
For on His holy promise He
And servant Abr’ham thought,
With joy His people, His elect,
With gladness forth He brought.”
“But He can easily carry on His work,” he continued, “though the workmen are laid aside.”
About six months ago he was stricken down with a serious malady. For a time hope of recovery was entertained, and through the generous kindness of many friends in London and elsewhere, which he deeply appreciated, he was enabled to come, along with his wife, north to Strathpeffer on the advice of his physician. But no benefit being derived, after a few weeks’ stay he came to Wick, the home of his boyhood and early manhood. For a time the disease did not make very manifest progress, but, during the last week of his life on earth, it made steady and sure progress towards the end. During the week he was sorely oppressed with great discomfort, but even in the midst of it all, his lively disposition asserted itself to a remarkable degree. Though we had often conversations on spiritual matters, it was not until the last day of his life that either of us made reference to his approaching end. Early on Sabbath morning he was suffering great pain, and he asked his wife to tell me to come in and look at his legs to see if anything could be done to relieve the pain. On coming into the bedroom, one could see that a decided change for the worse had taken place. “Isn’t it a pity,” he said, as he often did, “that I couldn’t get rest?” “You’ll get a good long rest to-day, Donald,” I replied, for it was evident the end was not very far distant. He lifted his weary eyes, and looked at me for a moment, and a smile seemed to come over his wan and haggard features as he said:—”Yes! I shall see the King in His beauty to-day.” “Are you quite reconciled now to go?” I asked. “Well, yes, to be with Christ is far better. But I would have liked to see Jessie” (his only child who was in London). Then after a pause he added:—”But I shall see her, for when she was born, I got the promise, ‘This also is a daughter of Abraham.'” On going out to the morning service, I shook hands with him. “Goodbye,” he said. “No, not yet,” I replied, “I will see you when I come in.” “Well, preach to them the unsearchable riches of Christ; that is what sinners need; and the Lord be with you.” On my return he was weaker, but quite conscious, and continued so till within twenty minutes or so of his death. One of his last petitions was, “Keep me, when I am going through the dark valley; shield me, defend me, cover me.” So passed away Donald Sutherland in the prime of his life (he was only
about 49 years) manifesting in a remarkable degree that, though the body be much afflicted, the Lord is able to sustain and comfort the soul that He has redeemed, when it is facing death and eternity. With no presumptuous bearing did he go down into the dark valley, and with no vain hope did he face eternity, but as one who leaned upon Christ alone for salvation. In his conversion and in his removal to his everlasting rest, it pleased the Lord that it should have been “through much tribulation” that His all-wise purpose should be accomplished, so that the beautiful words of the psalmist might well be applicable here:—
“The storm is changed into a calm
At His command and will;
So that the waves which rag’d before,
Now quiet are and still.
Then are they glad because at rest
And quiet now they be,
So to the haven He them brings,
Which they desired to see.”
What he was as a husband, son, and brother is best known to those who stood in these relations to him. His removal is deeply mourned by those who knew him and especially by our people in the London Mission. D. B.
Rev. Neil Cameron, as Moderator of the London Mission in which Mr. Sutherland took such a practical interest, kindly and suitably adds the following supplementary notice. Mr. Cameron begins with an account of the way in which the present regular services in London were started. There were a few occasional services, principally English, conducted by our ministers in London before this period:—
I desire to add a few lines to the above tribute. Some time after Mr. Donald Sutherland had undergone the spiritual change recorded by the Rev. D. Beaton, he came on a visit to Glasgow and spent a night with us. We were very favourably impressed as to the genuineness of the change, as also much impressed with the deep concern Mr. Sutherland felt about the Highlanders and other Scotsmen in London. He did his very utmost to impress upon us the urgent need of beginning regular services in connection with the Free Presbyterian Church there, and to have us promise to go for a Sabbath to have such services started. He received no great encouragement. After he got home to London, he continued to write us about the subject, like the importunate widow, persisting in taking no refusal. The matter was then considered more seriously, and we felt strongly inclined to go. When Mr. Sutherland was informed of the decision, he immediately made the necessary preparations. On our arrival at London he met us and drove us to his very hospitable home. He began, as soon as we entered the conveyance at the station, to speak of the promising character of London as a field for Free Presbyterian
labourers, and to urge that intimation should be made on the coming Sabbath morning that the services would be continued from Sabbath to Sabbath in connection with our Church in future. Feeling somewhat heavily the responsibility of the undertaking, we decided to say nothing till we would be able to judge from personal observation, but after holding two English services and a Gaelic one on Sabbath, which were well attended, we felt justified in making the longed-for intimation. We can never forget the rejoicing of our beloved friend that night. From that period he threw his whole energy and time into the work of the Mission. He was cordially assisted by Mr. William Grant in the various duties until Mr. Grant was called up to join the army. The brotherly love and mutual confidence that existed between them could not be surpassed. At our first communion in London they were both examined, and admitted as members of the Church in full communion. It rejoiced greatly our heart and caused us much encouragement to have these two young men at the head of the Mission. We had the utmost confidence both as regards their piety and singleness of purpose in the affairs of God’s house. At the time of our third communion there, they were both, after being previously elected by the members, ordained deacons. Since then they were urged to agree to their being made elders, but they declined the office at the time.
Our London Mission has lost a true friend in Mr. Donald Sutherland, and we are persuaded that we express the heartfelt feelings of each one of those in attendance there when we so write. Mr. W. Grant wrote us his own appreciation of him in the following sentences: “Donald Sutherland is constantly before my mind, as our ten years together leave me deeply attached to him. Grace wrought a wonderful change in Donald.” Again, after his death, he wrote: “If spared to return to London, I will find it a much colder place. May the blessed One raise up others!” These sentences express exactly our own feelings regarding our departed friend.
May the Lord guide, comfort, and bless his poor disconsolate widow and her fatherless child, and may He raise up others to take charge of His cause in our Mission in that large city! We desire, in conclusion, to express the deepest sympathy with his widow, aged mother, and the other members of the family, as well as with the adherents of the Mission in London, in the loss that has been sustained.
N. C.
MAN crumbles to dust at the presence of God; yea, though He shews Himself to us in His robes of salvation. Alas! there is a company of poor, light, frothy professors in the world, that carry it under that which they call the presence of God more like to antics than sober, sensible Christians; yea, more like the fool at the play than those that have the presence of God.—John Bunyan.
A Sermon.
BY THE REV. GEORGE HUTCHESON, M.A., of Edinburgh
and Irvine.1
(Second Sermon of Series on Psalm cxxx.)
(Continued from page 64.)
“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.
BEING so long detained in the morning in breaking in upon this purpose, I shall now the more briefly come to that where I left.
Ye have heard that in these two first verses, the distress psalmist was wrestling with the difficulties and sinking perplexities in his condition, wherein we have an account of what he had to wrestle with, the depths; the way of his wrestling with these depths, to wit, by prayer; his reflecting on that exercise, and telling God, that he cried unto Him out of the depths; and his prosecution of it, or insisting and pleading with God in a new doubled suit (verse 2).
For the first of these, the depths wherewith he wrestled, somewhat was spoken both for explication, and to a more general application of that purpose, which I shall not now repeat.
That which lies before me in the second place, is, the way of his wrestling with these depths, or difficulties. Others, had they been in the like exercise, might fret and repine, or they might labour to rant them out, or drink them down, so far as they were able to rid themselves of them, or they might crush under them; but he drives another trade; his being in the depths puts him to prayer, and to fervency in prayer. He not only intimates that out of the depths he prayed, but out of the depths he cried to God in prayer, with that earnestness, and fervour, that a drowning man, presently going to sink, cries for relief, if any relief may be had. The general observation which I take from this is, that the kindly2 result of sinking and surcharging exercise in the saints, is when it puts them to prayer, and to fervency in prayer, when being in the depths, out of the depths they cry unto God. This is the general doctrine of trouble, Psalms 1, “Call upon me in the day of trouble, I will deliver thee, etc.”
And that I may so far, as is necessary, lay the point in broad-band3 before you, before I come to a word of use, I shall deduce the importance of it in a few particulars.
And 1. The psalmist’s practice, who is content to be at exercise, doth import, that sleeping and idleness is a very
1 This able divine flourished in the 17th century. See June Magazine (1917), pp. 55-64.—ED.
2 Proper.
3 Fully.
unsuitable posture, when the people of God are in the depths. To be at any time without exercise is very dangerous; for as the animal life is still in motion, so the spiritual life of a Christian must still be in exercise. So in particular, to be without exercise in a distress, and particularly to be without prayer, is yet more dreadful. An idle man in a difficult lot, I can compare him to nothing but to that drunken man, Proverbs xxiii. 33, “That is as one that lieth down in the midst of the sea, or as he that lieth upon the top of a mast;” he is a desperate man, drunk with some distemper, that is not at exercise in the depths. May I add, the idle man in the depths, is readily the guilty man that draws on the storm and the tempest. Hence we have a sad narration (Jonah i. 5), where Jonah, a godly man, fleeing from the presence of the Lord, in the storm, is down in the sides of the ship sleeping. And one might think in the case he was in, he might have an unsound sleep there, but the text tells he was fast asleep; and shall I add, that’s a sad posture (verse 6) when a pagan shipmaster reproves a prophet: “Jonah, what meanest thou, O sleeper?” saith he, “arise, and call upon thy God.” That then is the first thing imported, that it is a dangerous thing to be sleeping and idle in the depths.
- That the psalmist when he is in the depths cries out unto God, it imports, that kindly1 saints, whenever they come in any distress, have no refuge but God. It’s with God and His saints as it’s with a parent and a child, in a crowd. As long as nothing ails the child, he will go beside any body, but when he comes in a difficulty he will leave the rest and single out his parent to protect him. So I say it’s with the saints when anything ails them, they have no refuge, no shift, no gate to go, but God. Would ye know the character of a child of God in distress, ye have it in that fore-cited place, 2 Chron. xx. 12, “We have no might against this great company that cometh against us, neither know we what to do, but our eyes are upon thee.” This is the scope of the most part of all the Psalms. A saint is no sooner put to it, but he puts at God: a cross is no sooner laid at his door, but he tells, it’s the wrong door, and he goes and lays it at God’s door. The reason of this is double; partly the difficulties of the children of God may be so great, that they are left allenarly2 upon God. It is with them as it was with that hypocritical king, when he said to the harlot, “If the Lord do not help thee, whence shall I help thee?” out of the barnfloor, or out of the wine-press. What will become of the saints in many difficulties and hard cases, if God step not in? David looked to all airts, and could find no relief, Psalms cxlii. 4, 5, “I looked on my right hand, and beheld, but there was no man that would know me, refuge failed me, no man cared for my soul.” What follows? “I cried unto thee, O Lord, I said, thou art my refuge.” Kindly3 saints must therefore
1 Like their kind, proper, true.2 Solely.3 True.
look unto God in every distress, partly because whatever right means they have to make use of, they must either begin at God, or they will find they have followed a wrong method. Saul pretended to this (1 Samuel xiii. 12), “The Philistines will come down upon me, and I have not made supplication unto the Lord;” and I must begin at God, saith he. And as Saul pretended to it, David really practised it (1 Samuel xxx. 7). Whatever mind he had to pursue the Amalekites that had burnt Ziklag, and taken his wives captive, he will do nothing till he consult with God. That then is the second thing imported, that as the saints are not asleep, are not idle in the depths of trouble, so they have no refuge but God.
- A third thing imported in this, that the psalmist out of the depths cried unto God, is this, that there is no case of the saints so desperate, wherein prayer is useless. Ye know what was that wicked king’s determination, 2 Kings vi. 33, “This evil is of the Lord; what should I wait for the Lord any longer?” And how many in heart and practice, in difficult cases say so. “It is to little purpose to wait on God, to look to God.” The psalmist here was of another temper, “Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, Lord,” saith he; he finds it to good purpose to cry unto God. So Jonah ii. 4, “I said, I am cast out of thy sight;” and he had as much to say for his being so as any other; the waters compassed him about, and went into his soul. The weeds were wrapped about his head, he went down to the bottom of the mountains. The earth with her bars were about him, yet even then he sees not prayer to be an useless trade, wherefore he adds, “yet will I look again to thy holy temple.” Prayer is to good purpose for all that, and no wonder, for there is no condition of the saints so low, no pit so deep, wherein they can be caught, but an humble suppliant will from thence reach the throne. A David buried quick1 in a cave, a Daniel in the lion’s den, find that prayer can win up to God, and find audience; for the high and lofty One, who hath the heaven for His throne, and the earth for His footstool, hath an eye also to them who are of a poor and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at His word (Isaiah lxvi. 1, 2). And He who humbleth Himself to behold the things that are in heaven and in the earth, He raiseth the poor out of the dust, and the needy out of the dung-hill, and therefore no desperate case of the people of God renders prayer useless.
But 4. That the psalmist out of the depths cries unto God, it imports, that as there is no case so desperate as it renders prayer useless, so it imports, that it is the property of the saints, when they are right, that be prayer hopeless, or not hopeless, they will not quit it; they will not give it over, put them in the depths. It’s a great encouragement to them that they know it is to good purpose to pray; but be it to purpose, or no purpose, they must
1 Alive.
be about it, they will not quit it. That place cited in Jonah proves it; let God cast him out of his sight, yet will he look to his holy temple and pray; shut him out at the door, he will be in at the door by prayer. Tell him his difficulty is so great (as temptation will be ready to say) that crying to God will do him no good, it’s all a matter, to prayer he must, he’ll rather sink praying, than be saved without it. Psalms lxi. 2, “From the ends of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed.” That’s a notable word from a man in a deep distress. What could a man imagine to be discouraging that he wanted? For his case, he is as far from God as the ends of the earth; for his heart, he is under perplexity, his heart is overwhelmed; and yet in that condition he will cry unto God, if so be He will lead him to the rock that is higher than he; come of it what will, he will pray. And Heman is another notable instance, Psalms lxxxviii. 13, and verse 14. He says, “Lord, why castest thou off my soul? why hidest thou thy face from me?” and verse 15, “I am afflicted, and ready to die from my youth up; while I suffer thy terrors, I am distracted.” I am put out of my wits, my wit gets a rack with thy terrors; and yet verse 13, “Unto thee have I cried, O Lord.” No hopelessness of my undertaking, no hardship I meet with could put me from crying to thee, and in the morning shall my prayer prevent thee; I will continue praying, and (to speak after the manner of men) Thou shalt be soon up, but my prayer shall be at thy door to prevent thee. That then is the fourth thing imported here, not to be put from prayer were our case never so desperate, nay, not by the apprehension of drowning in the depths, though at the next bout we should sink to the bottom.
But 5. That he says, “Out of the depths have I cried unto thee,” it imports, that not only a saint will not be put from prayer, through the greatness of his distress, but his distress will put an edge upon prayer, when he is most fervent, and made to cry out when he is in the depths. And this word, “crying,” expressing prayer in the text, suffer me to explicate more particularly what it imports. I intend not to speak of it as it is generally used in Scripture, but as it expresseth prayer. And I shall here offer four or five things to be looked to by them that would continue praying in the depths, or out of the depths.
- It imports, a man’s being affected with that which is his case. The crying man knows what ails him; when a man scricks or cries out, it is an evidence that he feels somewhat that affects him much. Thus crying is used upon the account of grief (Ezek. v. 4). The marked persons are such as sigh and cry for all the abominations done in the midst of the city. They cry out of sad oppression from grief. And I find crying in prayer made use of, to signify the fears of the supplicant (Hebrews v. 7). Our blessed Lord is said to offer up prayers and supplications with strong crying and tears, and He was heard in that He feared. Grief and
fear import the sense of our case, the source and fountain of our cries. A stupid man that wots not how it’s with himself, or the people of God (who is like Pharaoh that knew not that Egypt was destroyed) will not be a crying man.
- This crying imports, not only a sense of one’s case, but an earnest affection after that, which our cries are employed about. It’s not for trifles that a man cries either to obtain or avoid them (at least they are not trifles in his opinion). It’s given as an estimation of wisdom, Proverbs ii. 3, when a man cries and lifts up his voice for it. And David cries about that which he is affected with, Psalms lxxiv. 2, “My soul longeth, yea even fainteth for the courts of the Lord, my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God.” It’s a token of raised affections either to be rid of some imminent ill or hazard, or to attain some excellent good, that puts folk to crying. A slighting of trouble (when a man is like Ephraim, Hosea vii. 9, “Gray hairs are here and there upon him, and he knows it not”), and a slighting of desirable mercies, will not produce crying for the one, or to avoid the other.
But 3. This crying imports, with sense of need and earnestness of affection to be at the thing cried for, a sense of a distance. We use to cry to folk that are far off, and not within ordinary speaking or rounding; and this follows well upon the former. When folks are put to pray from the depths, they will discern God at a distance from them, and themselves at a distance from God; it is another thing when a man is in the depths to be within speaking terms with God, as when he is at ease. The children of God while they are at ease are like Samson, who thinks he hath no more ado, but go out and shake himself, and have God at his command; but the man in the depths will not find such an easy matter to come near God. He will not only be sensible of his natural distance, but of that distance he is under upon the account of his provocations, and so this crying will take in sense of guilt to be confessed and mourned for before God. But this I shall leave, because it will fall in upon the third and fourth verses following.
A 4th thing imported in this crying is, that, notwithstanding of all that hath been said, a saint should cry out of the depths, with confidence in God, and of relief from Him, hence the spirit of adoption (Rom. viii. 15; Gal. iv. 6). It doth not prompt a man to mutter, or peep, or whisper his prayer to God; but to cry out with confidence, Abba, Father. And whatever sense we have of our need, or of our distance from God, or of the guilt that hath drawn it on, confidence is needful to usher in prayer, Hebrews iv. 16, “Having such an high priest, let us come boldly.” The word in the Greek signifies, let us come with an all-saying, with an open mouth, unto the throne of grace, with confidence, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace, to help in time of need.
5th and last.—This crying out of the depths it imports, as the result of all that I have been speaking to from it, a fervency of
affection; when folks are not only sensible of that they need, have an estimation of it, see their distance, come with some measure of confidence, but an edge is put on their affection, and they are fervent, and raised in prayer for it. I do not mean that prayer with the loudest voice is aye the most fervent prayer. When I think upon these tones and voices used by some in prayer, I often mind that word, Eccles. ix. 17, “The words of wise men are heard in quiet, more than the cry of him that ruleth among fools.” It’s not the tone (though we owe the voice to God) that makes fervent prayer to Him. Moses (Exod. xiv. 15) prayed fervently, he cried to God when he spoke not a word; and Lam. ii. 18, “Their heart cried unto the Lord, O wall of the daughter of Zion.” But my meaning is, that frequency, fervency, and instance in prayer from the heart is required in them that talk and cry out of the depths. Ye talk of your saying of your prayers, and among the prayers in the world many of them are but said prayers, but when it comes to crying out of the depths, your said prayers will not do the turn. Our blessed Lord was never superficial in prayer, yet (Luke xxii. 44) it’s said, “being in an agony he prayed more earnestly.” There is a pattern of prayer out of the depths, and I wish I saw a practical commentary of that among you, which ye find in Psalms cvii. 12, 13, “He brought down their heart with labour, they fell down, and there was none to help (that’s a posture that would put many to pray, and how far ye are from it, if ye were awake ye would discern), then they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and he saved them out of their distresses.”
So ye have heard the import of this crying out of the depths unto God. As for the uses of this, whereof it affords various, though all along the point is practical and applies itself; I know not if I dare break in farther upon it. I suppose to ordinary hearers, all is poison that is spoken after the glass1; but ye shall take a few words from it. If this be the kindly result of blessed trouble, to be put to crying to God out of the depths, then ye may see what a dreadful plague it is, that when people are cast in the depths, the spirit of prayer is away, and there is no crying out of them to God. Shall I hold up to you a glass to let you see your own soul face in this matter? Read Ezek. xxiv. 23, And I pray you forget Judah and Israel, and call this Scotland, and yourselves professors in Scotland that are spoken to, “Ye shall not mourn, nor weep, but ye shall pine away for your iniquities.” O that is the copestone of a people’s calamity, when it is said to them, “Ye shall pine away in your iniquities, and mourn, and roar one towards another.” And will ye not get many such up and down the land, folks that are like wild beasts in a net, struggling with their calamity, tatlers and talkers of their troubles, he blaming him, and he him, roaring for the sad case themselves and the land are in, but where is their
1After the glass is run out. A sand glass was used in those days to mark the time of Sermons.
crying out of the depths to God? Who have added to the weight and measure of their prayers for all that is come over them? Where will ye get a Daniel in all Scotland, that for three full weeks gave himself to fasting and prayer? Will ye have another glass to see your foul spots in? Read Daniel ix. 13, “As it is written in the law of Moses, all this evil is come upon us, yet made we not our prayer to the Lord our God, that we should turn from our iniquities and understand thy truth.” We feel well enough all the evil that is on us, and that it is come as it is written in the law, yet there is no prayer to purpose. Will ye yet take another glass? Then read Amos iv. 6, etc., where the Lord tells what strokes He had inflicted upon His people, everyone of them heavier than another. I have done this, and this to you, saith the Lord, and still the over-word is, “yet ye have not returned unto me.” Many folks are blyth when things rise to an height, and then they think God will be seen on the mount, but they forget that continuing them in the depths, is to set them to prayer. It is the sin of the generation, that they look more to their privileges than their provocations; and lean so much weight on the righteousness of their cause, as they forget that for which God hath put them in difficulties. I may say on this account, that even fearers of God are self-destroyers, “O tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Ashkelon, that God hath taken such pains to put us to pray and repent,” and yet we will do anything, but pray and repent we will not. I see no issue in this, but to put off our ornaments, and see what the Lord will do with us. And will ye yet take another word that may give folk a sight of their foul face? Even that charge unjustly laid by Eliphaz against Job, chap. xv. verse 4, which, I doubt, if we can lay so well from our door as he might, “Thou castest off fear (saith he) and restrainest prayer before God.” There is a threefold restraint of prayer before God in difficulties. And I wish that one or all of them take not in the generality of the generation we live in. First, When folk that were wont to pray, give it over. And what thousands are there of this stamp in Scotland? and not a few in the west country. How many are there among us, that sometimes have worshipped God in secret, and now do not bow a knee to God? How many have worshipped God in their families, who now have left it off? And among you there are not a few such, as we find by your shifting answers, when you are asked thereanent, a thing that rather might be expected in the barbarous parts of the land than among you, and is not religion and religious duties much clipped where it had much place? A prognostic of little good, when so few families will be found having their posts sprinkled with the blood of sprinkling. Now what shall I say of them that never prayed, when so many have quit prayer that once used it? O! I say it again, “Publish it not in Gath, etc.” That apostacy hath so far prevailed, that it hath driven many from the very form of godliness.
A second restraint of prayer is in them who have kept up a form, but, alas! they put me in mind of that word spoken of Pharaoh’s chariot wheels, “they drive heavily.” There was a time when religion was in request, and then folks got borrowed wings that they flew with, or stilts in religious duties; but when a man comes in the depths, he must have divine approbation, or these will not do his turn, or if he hold him by his prayers, he will be looked down upon and lightly esteemed, and then he that was wont to soar in prayer, will do much if he can creep on the ground: but that clipping of prayer, is a restraint of prayer before God.
I shall add thirdly, that many restrain prayer, that neither quit nor clip prayer, of whom if ye judge by their frequent continuance, and the edge they have in prayer, ye will find no difference betwixt what they are now, and what they were formerly. And ye will not easily know their restraining prayer, and yet they restrain it: for, instead of humble supplications, their prayers are made up of murmuring and quarrelling. Ye will get little of the poor man’s supplications in their prayers.
Look to these things as glasses, wherein ye may see your shortcomings and guilt, and I entreat the Lord to bless them to you for that end, and for your exciting to more fervency to prayer. And remember when I press upon you crying out of the depths, that I press a peremptory duty on you, and that every neglect of prayer while ye are in the depths, disposes you to apostacy, and is a step to your ruin.
(To be continued.)