BY THE REV. D. BEATON, WICK.
(Continued from page 213.)
IV.—REV. ROBERT FINLAYSON, HELMSDALE.
ROBERT FINLAYSON *was born in Clyth, Caithness, early in 1793, and was baptised in March of that year by the Rev. John Robertson, missionary-minister in Achrenie, Halsary and Halladale, who was afterwards minister of Rothesay, and Kingussie. It is reported that Mr. Robertson said to Robert’s mother: “Take care of this child, for you have got a Samuel from the Lord.” Robert was the son of Robert Finlayson, Society schoolmaster in East Clyth, and afterwards at Dunbeath, and of Margaret Gunn. On the tombstone in Latheron churchyard it is recorded that “Robert Finlayson, once Society Schoolmaster at Dunbeath . . . died in 1819, aged sixty-eight years, also his spouse, Margaret Gunn, who died in the year 1821, aged sixty-four years.” Both Mr. Finlayson’s father and grandfather were held in high esteem for their piety, and his mother, Margaret Gunn, was a woman that feared God, and the daughter of a man who was a burning and shining light in his day.
* I am indebted to the Rev. George Sutherland, Bruan, for the details at the beginning of this article, and to the Rev. John Macpherson’s Cunnias Aighearr mu Bheatha ‘n Urramaich Raibheart Finnlason, to which is added a biographical sketch by the Rev. Duncan MacGregor for statements in the rest of the article. There is also a biographical sketch (with portrait) in the Disruption Worthies of the Highlands.
When about ten years of age, Robert began to accompany his parents to the Mission Church at Berriedale, which at this time was under the care of the Rev. William Mackintosh, afterwards minister of Thurso. From an early age the boy took pleasure in hearing the Word preached, and was in the habit of praying. There were not wanting signs that the Holy Spirit was striving with him. He was in the habit in those early days of retiring to a quiet dell and preaching to an imaginary congregation. At such times he would be deeply impressed, but these impressions passed away, and a deeper and more lasting work was required and granted in after years. Robert had also the privilege of being mentally nourished with sound literature, and read such books as Boston’s Fourfold State, Dyer’s Christ’s Famous Titles, Edwards’ History of Redemption, together with the works of Bunyan, Willison, and the Erskines.
When a lad in his teens he was appointed a teacher at a side school at Achscorricle, Strathmore, in the parish of Halkirk. Here he lodged in the house of John MacDonald, a famous cattle dealer of those days. While here he was privileged to enjoy the ministry of the Rev. John Munro, missionary-minister of Achrenie, and afterwards minister of Halkirk. Achrenie was one of the most highly privileged mission stations in Scotland. It had not only a succession of missionaries who afterwards were burning and shining lights in the Church, but there were many notable Christians, men and women, who adorned the doctrine of God their Saviour, connected with the Mission. On the Lord’s Day it was the custom of the people on the way to divine worship to gather into a group, under the leadership of Robert Sutherland, one of the outstanding “Men” of his day. Certain points in experimental religion would be raised and discussed by those who knew something of the Holy Spirit’s dealings.* The result of such conversations was highly beneficial. On the return journey the company would be catechised by Robert Sutherland as to the sermon they had listened to, and questions were asked as to the points which had made the deepest impression. In this way the whole sermon would be recalled, and the good impressions made by it deepened. When the company came to the parting place Robert Sutherland would speed them on their way by committing them to the care of the Holy One of Israel, by engaging in prayer. By such a practice, all tendency to light and frivolous conversation, alike going to the service and returning from it, was checked, and the company, instead of going up to the house of God with a weary heart and leaden feet, to be a drag to themselves and the preacher, entered his courts with praise, and exemplified the psalmist’s experience, when he said—
“I joyed when to the house of God,
Go up, they said, to me.”
* Boston, in his Memoirs, makes mention of a similar custom in the South of Scotland in the days succeeding the Revolution.
In due course Mr. Finlayson went to Aberdeen to prosecute his studies there. Dr. John Tulloch, a Caithness man, was professor of mathematics, and took an interest in the young student. Mr. Finlayson was thus led to attend the church where the professor worshipped, but, being dissatisfied with the preaching, he petitioned the Senatus of the University to change his place of worship, which request they readily granted, with the result that Mr. Finlayson attached himself to the congregation of the remarkable, though somewhat erratic, but fervent and evangelical preacher, Dr. Kidd.† It was about this time that Mr. Finlayson was awakened to real concern. He had clear and deep views of sin, but was afraid that his convictions were not deep enough to warrant him coming to Christ. While in this state of concern he fell in with Hervey’s Theron and Aspasio. In the varied experiences of Theron Mr. Finlayson read his own. Then the words came with power to him:—”This is His commandment, that we believe on the name of His Son, Jesus Christ.” As he was endeavouring to give heed to this command, he felt that gracious gospel arguments were occurring to him and inclining his soul towards the great salvation.
† It was Dr. John Duncan who remarked about this extraordinary man, that he never met any one in whom both the “old man” and the “new” were so strong.
While acting as tutor in the family of Mr. John Stewart, Berriedale, Mr. Finlayson took smallpox, and was blind for eighteen days, and his life was despaired of by many; but in the kindness of God he was to be raised up for a life of usefulness in God’s vineyard. On the restoration of his health, he became teacher of the school at Lybster, which post he held until he was licensed by the Presbytery of Caithness in May, 1826. His first sermon was preached in the church of Watten from the text:—”Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave whither thou goest.” After the service, on speaking to one of the elders, Mr. Gunn said:—”We had a young minister to-day.” “I thought it was an old Christian,” replied that worthy, indicating the impression the sermon had made on him.
Mr. Finlayson’s first charge was the Aberdeen Gaelic Church. Soon the church was crowded, and many professed to have received a blessing under his preaching. He continued in Aberdeen for three years, and thereafter was called to Knock, Lewis, in 1829. His preaching at Knock was signally owned of God. The people crowded the church at the diets of divine worship, and on the week evenings at the family worship in the manse, the sitting-room, stairs, and every place within hearing were crowded with people. Some came every evening all the way from Stornoway, a distance of four miles. Mr. Finlayson only remained two years at Knock. In 1831 he was presented by the Crown, through the influence of Lady Stuart Mackenzie, to the parish of Lochs. His predecessor in Lochs was the Rev. Alexander Simpson, a man of some force of character, but who made no claims, at least by his conduct, to be a minister of Christ. He has been described as a blind leader of the blind. All the adult population were communicants. It was no unusual thing for him to freely invite all and sundry to the Lord’s Table in the words:—”Come to the table of your own Father, come, every one of you.” Real Christians were shocked at the lack of discrimination shewn by the minister in such weighty matters, and on one occasion some worthy men from Stornoway protested against it, and were tried and sentenced to a term of imprisonment for their pains, inasmuch as they were looked upon as disturbers of divine worship. The people of Lochs at this date were very illiterate, scarcely any one could read, and there were but one or two Bibles in the parish. Such was the state of the parish when Mr. Finlayson came to it. He was in the full plenitude of his powers, physical and mental, and devoted himself with whole-hearted devotion to the evangelisation of the parish. His parish, roughly speaking, was about thirty-five miles long, and eighteen broad. “It was broken up by numerous arms of the sea, extending far inland, and there were no roads. In visiting he had to cross numerous ferries, and to walk miles upon miles over rough moorland, and to make long voyages by sea in an open boat. He had to stay nights in uncomfortable huts, and sleep in uncomfortable beds.” Under the blessing of God, the wilderness soon showed signs of becoming a fruitful field. Prayer meetings were set up in every township. Fellowship meetings, at which only professed believers were present, were inaugurated. At these meetings the young men were chiefly called upon to speak, and were thus trained as public speakers for the Friday meetings. After a number had been called upon to speak, the minister reviewed what had been said, indicating the defects and irrelevancies of the various speakers in a sympathetic manner, and suggesting lines of improvement. Though Mr. Finlayson was very strict in admitting to the Lord’s Table, he felt at times that strictness might be carried too far, and on one occasion, hearing a brother minister fencing the tables with a rigidity which he considered too severe, he prayed at the opening prayer at the Table, “Lord, make the fence around Thy Table so high as it will keep out the swine, but let it not be so high as to keep out the sheep.”
At the Disruption, Mr. Finlayson, with the whole of his congregation, joined the Free Church, and, until a new church was built, they worshipped in the open air. In 1849, he was visited with a very sore bereavement. His two eldest boys, Donald, aged seventeen, and Robert, aged fourteen, were drowned while fishing on the loch in front of the manse. The broken-hearted parent joined with the patriarch in those words of resignation: “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” It is recorded that when one of his elders called and offered his condolences in the words: “This is very hard for flesh and blood, Mr. Finlayson.” “Yes,” came the reply from the grief-stricken father, “it is hard for grace itself.” On one occasion he was overheard near the spot where his boys had been drowned, saying:—”Since thou hast deprived me of my two sons, make up to me my loss by giving me more love to thine own Son.”
In 1856, he was called to Helmsdale, and accepted the call. But highly esteemed and loved as a servant of Christ though he was at Helmsdale, it was nothing compared to the deep affection manifested towards him in Lochs. The day he left Lochs was a day of sadness and mourning. Mr. Finlayson’s ministerial activity at Helmsdale was of short duration. His last sermon was preached during a Communion season at Dunbeath from the text:—”Let us be glad and rejoice, and give honour to him; for the marriage of the Lamb is come, and his wife hath made herself ready” (Rev. xix. 7), and three weeks thereafter he was seized with the illness from which he died on 23rd June, 1861. Thus there passed to his everlasting rest an honoured servant of Christ, and it was a fitting close to his ministerial work that he should have been engaged in directing the thoughts of his hearers to that goodly banquet of everlasting joy prepared for all his faithful servants.
Mr. Finlayson’s characteristics as a preacher have been very happily described by the Rev. Duncan MacGregor. “Mr. Finlayson,” he says, “was a perfect master of allegory. We used to call him the John Bunyan of the Highlands. And, hence, his preaching, while retaining a spice of the quaintness of Dr. Kidd, under whose ministry he sat as a student in Aberdeen, more closely resembled that of Mr. Porteous, of Kilmuir Easter, and of Mr. Lachlan MacKenzie, of Lochcarron. He spoke in parables; he preached to the whole man, for parables are the people’s speech—they are the language of nature. He studied the word and works of God, and drew aids from earth and sea and sky to unveil the glories of Christ crucified. To him all nature was vocal with God, and all her phenomena waiting as handmaids to be enlisted in the Master’s service. His fertile fancy, sometimes by a parable, sometimes by an analogy from everyday life, cast a clearness even on the deeper doctrines, and set them forth with dramatic vividness. His church at Lochs for five-and-twenty years was an ‘Interpreter’s house,’ frequented by pilgrims to the Celestial City, where every room was hung round with typical figures and subjects, whose very floor was inlaid with mystic emblems, and each figure and emblem a key to some intricate spiritual truth, and where many a pilgrim was braced by what he heard and saw for climbing the Hill Difficulty and encountering the other perils of the journey. This faculty predisposed him to the exposition of the typology of the Old Testament, surely the most profitable of all forms of exposition. None excelled him in explaining the New Testament truth by the Old Testament type. And, though, occasionally, he was a little Cocceian in his typical expositions—in his exposition of the typical character of Jonah, for example—and though his lively fancy mayhap soared into a region where his hearers could not follow without risk of giddiness, the themes were ineffaceably dented in their memories. Hence hundreds of his sayings are quoted daily. The same instinct led him to study Jesus’ parables profoundly. He was better fitted to preach on the parable of the good Samaritan than on the ninth chapter of Romans. His ripest thoughts on the types of the Old Testament and the parables of the New, like rich old wine, were often a cordial to heavy hearts. When listening to him we often thought of Job’s saying:—’Unto me men gave ear, and waited, and kept silence at my counsel. After my words they spake not again; and my speech dropped upon them. And they waited for me as for the rain; and they opened their mouth wide as for the latter rain’ (Job xxix. 21, 23). And how concisely was it done: Preaching on John xiii. 14—the duty of disciples to wash one another’s feet—he observed:—’One way in which disciples wash one another’s feet is by reproofing one another. But the reproof must not be couched in angry words, so as to destroy the effect; nor in tame, so as to fail of effect. Just as in washing a brother’s feet, you must not use boiling water to scald, nor frozen water to freeze them.’ They said of Charles of Bala, that it was a good sermon to see him. To see Mr. Finlayson, as Isaac-like he went out to meditate in his little garden at Lochs at the eventide, to see him wending along in his gig so deep in reverie that, when a fellow-traveller once asked him, ‘Where are we now?’ his reply was, ‘Aye, aye: wherever you are, I am between Genesis and Revelation’—was no bad sermon either. His appearance as he preached his action sermon in 1850 on the parable of the two foundations, as he preached his action sermon in 1852 on the two disciples going to Emmaus, and in 1853 on the brazen serpent, is vividly before us at this moment. The tall, portly figure, so full of loving simplicity, the brown hair and fair complexion, indicating the Scandinavian blood in the population of his native Caithness-shire, the large features, which, judging from the portraits, must have closely resembled those of the celebrated Professor Jardine of Glasgow—the meek eyes, that, soon as he kindled, became suffused with tenderness; the sonorous voice, deep at first, as if it almost came out of the ground, but which rose by-and-by to tones of silvery sweetness; the smiles of joy which after played on his features, like sunshine on the deep sea; the words he uttered, and the vast audience on the hillside—the whole is daguerrotyped in our memory. Never did we feel the power of personal holiness in reinforcing the truth spoken from the pulpit more than when hearing him.”
Mr. MacPherson, in his biographical sketch, has given a number of notes from his sermons illustrative of Mr. Finlayson’s allegorical style. One of these—Zeal and Knowledge—may be given as indicative of how truth could be presented in a pleasing and arresting form. “On a certain day,” said the preacher, “Zeal said to Knowledge, ‘I will go with Christ to-day,’ and, on His speaking about His death, Zeal said: ‘Be it far from thee, Lord; this shall not be unto thee.’ But Christ, turning to Zeal, said, ‘Get thee behind me, Satan, thou art an offence unto me.’ And Zeal went home with bent head. ‘What has happened?’ asked Knowledge. ‘Much, indeed,’ said Zeal. ‘I went so far astray that Christ called me Satan.’ On another day after this Christ was going out, and Knowledge said to Zeal, ‘This is my day; you went out the last time.’ ‘You will not be able to do so well as I,’ protested Zeal. ‘I will require to go out myself, to-day.’ So Zeal went forth with Christ, and when Christ said, ‘You will be all offended in me this night,’ Zeal answered, ‘Although all will be offended, yet will not I.’ To which Christ replied, ‘Verily I say unto thee that this day, even in this night, before the cock shall crow twice, that thou shalt deny me thrice.’ Zeal came home weeping. ‘What has happened now?’ asked Knowledge. ‘Woe is me,’ said Zeal, ‘I am demented. The Lord solemnly affirmed that I would deny Him.’ On a third occasion, Zeal said, ‘I will go forth with Christ again.’ ‘No,’ said Knowledge, ‘this is my day.’ But Zeal would not listen. Off it set, not simply running, but leaping, and followed the Lord into the Garden of Gethsemane, and when His enemies put their hand on Christ, Zeal stretched forth the hand and drew the sword, and cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant. It went into the hall of the high priest, and, on being charged with being with Christ: ‘I know not, neither understand I what thou sayest,’ said Zeal. And after denying him twice, and the third time with cursing and swearing, Christ turned and looked at Zeal, and Zeal came home, weeping bitterly. ‘What has happened?’ asked Knowledge. ‘I have done it at last! I have done it at last!’ said Zeal, shedding bitter tears. ‘I have denied my Lord three times, and the last time with cursing and swearing.’ ‘What will you do now,’ said Knowledge. ‘I will make an agreement with you, and promise that I will not go out again without you.’ The agreement was kept, and when Zeal went forth again, Knowledge was with it. A great sermon was preached on the day of Pentecost, and, for every time Zeal denied its Lord, a thousand souls were added to the Church.”
Specimens of Mr. Finlayson’s sermons are given in Mr. MacPherson’s Short Sketch, but one cannot get an idea from these notes—for, after all, they are only notes—what Mr. Finlayson was as a preacher. His method of presenting divine truth was original, attractive and arresting, and one hears striking notes from his sermons often quoted, even to this day.