The Condition of Ireland

AS far as may be gathered from the Press, the condition of things in Ireland is not improving. Every week has its own tale of deeds of violence, and some of these on a more extensive scale than before. The recent execution of six Sinn Feiners in Dublin by the authorities has no doubt aroused the rebels to greater activity. The Prime Minister and others assured us not long since that the Government had things well in hand in Ireland, but there is not much evidence, as far as can be observed, to justify this statement. Some incidents suggest a positive slackness in the management of affairs. Serious-thinking people may truly be anxious as to the future, lest the fire that is burning may spread to other parts of the kingdom, and bring great disorder and trouble.

The principal resort of God’s people in times of great perplexity and trial has been, and still is, prayer. The Lord Jesus said, “Men ought always to pray and not to faint.” He re-enforces in His general teaching the truth that runs through the Old Testament, that “the Lord reigneth” in all spheres, that our times and all things else are in His hands, that nothing in heaven or in earth can happen without Him, and that the right spiritual exercise, in addition to the use of other lawful means, is humble, constant, believing supplication to God for His gracious and almighty help in all cases and emergencies. And such is the prayer that is needed for the condition of things in Ireland and elsewhere at the present time. Would to God that He would send forth “the spirit of grace and supplication” into many hearts, for nothing will ascend to His throne but what first descends!

Humility is one of the fundamental features of true godliness at all times, and there is a special call for the exercise of this gracious disposition at present. “Humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in due time.” There is no doubt that the Irish trouble is a rod upon us for our national sins, though they are not such as the Sinn Feiners allege. We have been nursing and supporting Popery for many generations in Ireland, and now the viper has come almost to its full strength, and we have been casting aside the pure gospel of salvation, simple New Testament worship, and the authority of God’s commandments in England and Scotland, and we are now reaping widespread carelessness about all religion and abounding immorality. The Great War has taught the majority of people nothing to profit. If ever, therefore, there was a time for humble supplication it is the present.

We have all need to examine ourselves as to our personal and individual sins, and to confess them with shame and sorrow before God. Unless such exercises accompany what is called prayer, it is only prayer in name. And, further, if prayer is truly humble, we must present our petitions, not pleading our own merit or righteousness, but the worthiness and merit of the Lord Jesus Christ. We have got an inflated idea in our time of human virtue and goodness—of what man can do—and of our national attainments in everything excellent. Until this spirit is broken down, and we get a sight and sense of our innumerable shortcomings and transgressions, we shall never draw near to God in the right spirit, or value Christ, as we ought, as Saviour and King. We need not present our petitions before Almighty God with the hope of an answer on the ground of our courage and prowess in the recent War and such-like things, but solely on the ground of the meritorious righteousness of Him who is King of Zion and King of nations. This is the only sufficient basis of acceptance at “the throne of grace”—the only ground upon which God will give us an answer in peace. Vain are all the Pharisaic utterances, “We thank Thee,” for our own good works. Down we must come to the place of the penitent publican, “God, be merciful to me a sinner,” or else all will go to ruin in our national, ecclesiastical, family, and individual life.

Where there is genuine humility, there is also faith. There is a believing reception of all that God declares, both as to His gracious as well as His holy character in Jesus Christ. Believing prayer, therefore, makes use of all the invitations and promises that He gives to those who seek His face through “the new and living way.” He has given signal proofs in the past that He is a God who can deliver us out of the greatest difficulties when all hope of escape seems to be gone, and that He often appears for His people’s help at “the fourth watch of the night,” when they are ready to fold their hands in despair. Thus, there is great encouragement to plead His mercies that are past and His promises that are always present in the Word of Truth in regard to such a crisis as now faces us as a nation.

Let us also seek grace to add persevering importunity to faith.
It was the way with others that opposition to their cries and delay of answer stirred them up to greater earnestness and more intense entreaty. We need to be stirred out of sloth and carnal ease, and the Lord has this wise discipline on hand when He often delays to answer His people’s requests. May He, in his infinite mercy, visit our country with a day of the Spirit’s awakening and quickening power, when we shall be brought back in repentance to the acceptance of God’s truth, and experience deliverance, not only from the woes and terrors of Ireland, but from many other evils that afflict us!

A Sermon.

By the REV. THOMAS ADAMS, One of the Puritan Divines.
“He hath given himself for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet-smelling savour.”—EPHES. v. 2.

(Continued from page 329.)

WHOM? Himself.

Whom? Himself.—This is the third circumstance; the gift, Himself. Not an angel; for an angel cannot sufficiently mediate between an immortal nature offended and a mortal nature corrupted. The glorious angels are blessed, but finite and limited, and therefore unable for this expiation. They cannot be so sensibly “touched with the feeling of our infirmities” (Heb. iv. 15), as He that was, in our own nature, in all points tempted like as we are, sin only excepted.

Not saints, for they have no more oil than will serve their own lamps; they have enough for themselves, not of themselves, all of Christ, but none to spare. Fools cry, Give us of your oil; they answer, “Not so, lest there be not enough for us and you; but go ye rather to them that sell, and buy for yourselves” (Matthew xxv. 9). They could not propitiate for sin, that were themselves guilty of sin, and by nature liable to condemnation. Wretched idolaters, that thrust this honour on them against their wills; how would they abhor such sacrilegious glory!

Not the riches of this world; “We were not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold” (I Peter i. 18). Were the riches of the old world brought together to the riches of the new world; were all the mineral veins of the earth emptied of their purest metals, this pay would not be current with God. It will cost more to redeem souls. “They that trust in their wealth, and boast in the multitude of their riches, yet cannot by any means redeem their brother, nor give to God a ransom for him” (Psalm xlix. 6, 7). The servant cannot redeem the Lord. God made a man master of these things; he is then more precious than his slaves.

“Not the blood of bulls or goats” (Heb. ix.). Alas! those legal sacrifices were but dumb shows of this tragedy, the mere figures of this oblation, mystically presenting to their faith that “Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world.” This Lamb was prefigured in the sacrifices of the law, and now presented in the sacraments of the Gospel, slain indeed from the beginning of the world, who had power to profit us before He had a human being Himself. None of these would serve.

Whom gave He then? Himself, who was both God and man; that so participating of both natures, our mortality and God’s immortality, He might be a perfect mediator (Aug. Confes. lib. x. cap. 43). “He came between mortal men and immortal God, mortal with men, and just with God.” As man He suffered; as God He satisfied; as God and man He saved. He gave Himself, wholly and only.

1. All Himself.

1. All Himself, His whole person, soul and body, godhead and manhood. Though the Deity could not suffer, yet in regard of the personal union of these two natures in one Christ, His very passion is attributed in some sort to the Godhead. So Acts xx. 28, it is called the “blood of God;” and 1 Cor. ii. 8, “The Lord of glory” is said to “be crucified.” The school’s distinction here makes all plain. He gave all Christ, though not all of Christ; as God alone, He would not, as man alone, He could not, make this satisfaction for us. The Deity is impassible; yet was it impossible, without this Deity, for the great work of our salvation to be wrought. If any ask, how the manhood could suffer without violence to the Godhead, being united in one person, let him understand it by a familiar comparison. The sunbeams shine on a tree, the axe cuts down this tree, yet can it not hurt the beams of the sun. So the Godhead still remains unharmed, though the axe of death did for a while fell down the manhood. His body suffered both sorrow and the sword; His soul sorrow, not the sword (literally); His deity neither sorrow nor the sword. The Godhead was in the person pained, yet not in the pain.

2. Himself only, and that without a Partner and without a Comforter.

1. Without a Partner.

1. Without a partner that might share either His glory or our thanks, of both which He is justly jealous (Ambrose). The suffering of Christ needs no help. Upon good cause, therefore, we abhor that doctrine of the papists, that our offences are expiated by the passions of the saints. No, not the blessed Virgin hath performed any part of our justification, paid any farthing of our debts. But thus sings the choir of Rome: “Holy Virgin, Dorotha, enrich us with thy virtue, create in us new hearts!” Wherein there is pretty rhyme, pretty reason, but great blasphemy; as if the Virgin Dorotha were able to create a new heart within us. No, “but the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin” (1 John i. 7). His blood, and His only. O blessed Saviour, every drop of Thy blood is able to redeem a believing world.

What, then, need we the help of men? How is Christ a perfect Saviour if any act of our redemption be left to the performance of saint or angel? No, our souls must die, if the blood of Jesus cannot save them. And whatsoever witty error may dispute for the merits of saints, the distressed conscience cries, “Christ, and none but Christ.” They may sit at tables and discourse, enter the schools and argue, get up into the pulpits and preach that the works of good men is the Church’s treasure, given by indulgence, and can give indulgence, and that they will do the soul good. But lie we upon our deathbeds, panting for breath, driven to the push, tossed with tumultuous waves of afflictions, anguished with sorrow of spirit, then we sing another song—Christ, and Christ alone—Jesus, and only Jesus; mercy, mercy, pardon, comfort, for our Saviour’s sake! “Neither is there salvation in any other; for there is none other name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved” (Acts iv. 12).

2. Without a Comforter.

1. Without a Comforter. He was so far from having a sharer in His passion, that He had none in compassion, that (at least) might anyways ease His sorrows. It is but a poor comfort of calamity, pity; yet even that was wanting. “Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by?” (Lam. i. 12). Is it so sore a sorrow to Christ, and is it nothing to you? a matter not worth your regard, your pity? Man naturally desires and expects, if he cannot be delivered, ease; yet to be pitied. “Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, O ye my friends, for the hand of God hath touched me” (Job xix. 21). Christ might make that request of Job, but in vain; there was none to comfort Him, none to pity Him. It is yet a little mixture of refreshing if others be touched with a sense of our misery; that in their hearts they wish us well, and would give us ease if they could; but Christ hath in His sorest pangs not so much as a comforter. The martyrs have fought valiantly under the banner of Christ, because He was with them to comfort them. But when Himself suffers, no relief is permitted. The most grievous torments find some mitigation in the supply of friends and comforters. Christ after His monomachy or single combat with the devil in the desert, had angels to attend Him. In His agony in the garden, an angel was sent to comfort Him. But when He came to the main act of our redemption, not an angel must be seen. None of those glorious spirits may look through the windows of heaven, to give Him any ease. And if they would have relieved Him, they could not. Who can lift up where the Lord will cast down? What chirurgeon can heal the bones which the Lord hath broken? But His mother, and other friends, stand by, seeing, sighing, weeping. Alas! what do those tears but increase His sorrow? Might He not justly say with Paul, “What mean ye to weep, and to break mine heart?” (Acts xxi. 13). Of whom then shall He expect comfort? Of His apostles? Alas! they betake them to their heels. Fear of their own danger drowns their compassion of His misery. He might say with Job, “Miserable comforters are ye all.” Of whom, then? The Jews are His enemies, and vie in unmercifulness with devils. There is no other refuge but His Father. No, even His Father is angry; and He who once said, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased” (Matthew iii. 17), is now incensed. He hides His face from Him, and lays His hand heavy upon Him, and buffets Him with anguish. Thus alone He suffers. He gave Himself, and only Himself, for our redemption.

TO WHOM? To God.

TO WHOM? To God; and that is the fourth circumstance. To whom should He offer this sacrifice of expiation but to Him that was offended? And that is God. “Against thee, thee only have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight” (Psalm li. 4). “Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight” (Luke xv. 21). All sins are committed against Him: His justice is displeased, and must be satisfied. To God; for God is angry: with what, and whom? with sin and us, and us for sin. In His just anger He must smite; but whom? In Christ was no sin. Now shall God do like Annas or Ananias? “If I have spoken evil,” saith Christ, “bear witness of the evil, but if well, why smitest thou me?” (John xviii. 23). So Paul to Ananias, “God shall smite thee, thou whited wall; for sittest thou to judge me after the law, and commandest me to be smitten contrary to the law?” (Acts xxiii. 3). So Abraham pleads to God, “Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?” (Gen. xviii. 25). Especially right to His Son, and to that Son which glorified Him on earth, and whom He hath now glorified in heaven? We must fetch the answer from Daniel’s prophecy, “The Messiah shall be cut off, but not for himself” (Daniel ix. 26). Not for Himself? For whom, then? For solution hereof we must step to the fifth point, and there we shall find:

FOR WHOM? For us.

FOR WHOM? For us. He took upon Him our person, He became surety for us; and lo! now the course of justice may proceed against Him! He that will become a surety, and take on him the debt, must be content to pay it. Hence that innocent lamb must be made a sacrifice; “and he that knew no sin in himself, must be made sin for us, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him” (2 Cor. v. 21). Seven times in three verses doth the prophet Isaiah inculcate this: We, ours, us (Isaiah liii. 4, 5, 6). We were all sick, grievously sick; every sin was a mortal disease. “He healeth our infirmities,” saith the prophet; He was our physician, a great physician. The whole world was sick to death, and therefore needed a powerful physician. So was He; and took a strange course for our cure, which was not by giving us physic, but by taking our physic for us. Other patients drink the prescribed potion; but our Physician drank the potion Himself, and so recovered us.

FOR US.—Ambrose said (De Fid. ad Grat. lib. ii. cap. 3), “He suffered for me, that had no cause to suffer for himself.” “O Lord Jesus, thou sufferest not thine own, but my wounds.” So monstrous were our sins, that the hand of the everlasting justice was ready to strike us with a fatal and final blow. Christ in His own person steps between the stroke and us, and bore that a while that would have sunk us for ever. (Aug. de doct. Christ. lib. i. cap. 14), “We abused the immortality we had, to our death; Christ used the mortality he had, to our life.” He loved us; and such as us, that were His utter enemies. Here then was love without limitation, beyond imitation. Unspeakable mercy, says Bernard, that the King of eternal glory should yield Himself to be crucified (Ser. de quadruplici debito), for so poor a wretch, yea, a worm; and that not a loving worm, not a living worm; for we both hated Him and His, and were dead in sins and trespasses.

Yea, for all us, indefinitely; none excepted that will apprehend it faithfully. The mixture of Moses’ perfume is thus sweetly allegorized. God commands him to put in so much frankincense as galbanum, and so much galbanum as frankincense (Exod. xxx. 34). Christ’s sacrifice was so sweetly tempered: as much blood was shed for the peasant in the field as for the prince in the court. The offer of salvation is general: “whosoever among you feareth God, and worketh righteousness, to him is the word of this salvation sent.” As there is no exemption of the greatest from misery, so no exemption of the least from mercy. He that will not believe and amend shall be condemned, be he never so rich; he that doth, be he never so poor, shall be saved.

This one point of the crucifix, “for us,” requires more punctual meditation. Whatsoever we leave unsaid, we must not huddle up this. For indeed this brings the text home to us, even into our consciences, and speaks effectually to us all: to me that speak, and to you that hear, with that prophet’s application, “Thou art the man.” We are they for whose cause our blessed Saviour was crucified. For us, He endured those grievous pangs; for us, that we might never taste them. Therefore say we with that father (Aug. de sancta virg. cap. 55): “Let Him be fixed wholly in our hearts, who was wholly for us fastened to the cross.”

We shall consider the uses we are to make of this by the ends for which Christ performed this. It serves to save, move, and mortify us.

1. To save us.

1. To save us. This was His purpose and performance: all He did, all He suffered, was to redeem us. “By his stripes we are healed” (Isa. liii. 5). By His sweat we refreshed; by His sorrows we rejoiced; by His death we saved. For even that day, which was to Him the heaviest day that ever man bore, was to us “the accepted time, the day of salvation” (2 Cor. vi. 2). The day was evil in respect of our sins and His sufferings; but eventually, in regard of what He paid and what He purchased, a good day, the best day, a day of joy and jubilation.

But if this salvation be wrought for us, it must be applied to us, yea, to every one of us. For that some receive more profit by His passion than others, is not His fault that did undergo it, but theirs that do not undertake it; to apply it to their own consciences. We must not only believe this text in gross; but let every one take a handful out of this sheaf, and put it into His own bosom. So turning this “for us” into “for me.” As Paul, “I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me” (Gal. ii. 20). Blessed faith, that into the plural, us, puts in the singular soul, me. “He gave Himself for me.” Every one is a rebel, guilty and convicted by the supreme law; death waits to arrest us, and damnation to receive us. What should we do but pray, beseech, cry, weep, till we can get our pardon sealed in the blood of Jesus Christ, and every one find a sure testimony in his own soul that Christ gave Himself for me.

2. This should move us.

1. This should move us. Was all this done for us, and shall we not be stirred? “Have ye no regard? Is it nothing to you that I suffer such sorrow as was never suffered?” (Lam. i. 12). All His agony, His cries, and tears, and groans, and pangs, were for us; shall He thus grieve for us, and shall we not grieve for ourselves? For ourselves, I say; not so much for Him. Let His passion move us to compassion, not of His sufferings (alas! our pity can do Him no good), but of our sins which caused them. “Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your children” (Luke xxiii. 28). For ourselves; not for His pains that are past, but for our own that should have been, and (except our faith sets Him in our stead) shall be. Shall He weep to us, for us, and shall we not mourn? Shall He drink so deeply to us in this cup of sorrow, and shall we not pledge Him? Doth the wrath of God make the Son of God shriek out, and shall not the servants for whom He suffered tremble? (Hieron. in Math.). Every creature seems to suffer with Christ; sun, earth, rocks, sepulchres. Only man suffers nothing, for whom Christ suffered all. Doth His passion tear the veil, rend the stones, cleave the rocks, shake the earth, open the graves; and are our hearts more hard than those insensible creatures that they cannot be penetrated? Doth heaven and earth, sun and elements, suffer with Him, and is it nothing to us? We, wretched men that we are, that were the principals in this murder of Christ: whereas Judas, Caiaphas, Pilate, soldiers, Jews, were all but accessories and instrumental causes. We may seek to shift it from ourselves, and drive this heinous fact upon the Jews; but the executioner doth not properly kill the man. Sin, our sins, were the murderers. Of us He suffered, and for us He suffered: unite these in your thoughts, and tell me if His passion hath not cause to move us.

And yet so obdurate are our hearts that we cannot endure one hour’s discourse of this great business. Christ was many hours in dying for us; we cannot sit one hour to hear of it. O that we should find fault with heat or cold in hearkening to these heavenly mysteries, when He endured for us such a heat, such a sweat, such agony, that through His flesh and skin He sweat drops of blood. Doth He weep tears of gore-blood for us, and cannot we weep tears of water for ourselves? Alas! how would we die for Him, as He died for us, when we are weary of hearing what He did for us?

3. This should mortify us.

1. This should mortify us. Christ delivered Himself to death for our sins, that He might deliver us from death and our sins. He came not only to destroy the devil, but to “destroy the works of the devil” (1 John iii. 8). Neither doth He take only from sin (Rom. viii. 1) the power to condemn us, but also (Rom. vi. 6, 12) the power to rule and reign in us. So that Christ’s death, as it answers the justice of God for our misdeeds, so it must kill in us the will of misdoing. Christ in all parts suffered, that we in all parts might be mortified. His sufferings were so abundant that men cannot know their number, nor angels their nature, neither men nor angels their measure. His passion found an end, our thoughts cannot. He suffered at all times, in all places, in all senses, in all members, in body and soul also—all for us.

(To be continued.)

The late John Macdonald, Elder,

ST. JUDE’S, GLASGOW.

ONE of the old divines remarked that there was one thing upon which the Church on earth and the Church Triumphant never agreed, viz.:—When a sinner saved by grace was ready for joining the Church in glory he would not be left one day longer in the Church on earth. To this the Church on earth did never agree; but, that at the great day of judgment the agreement and concord would be perfect as regards that point. This is true at all times, but when the faithful are few among the children of men, it is felt to be doubly painful when one of the Lord’s true remembrancers is taken away, and, more especially, when this takes place at the beginning of a promising life of usefulness in connection with the cause of Christ in the world. The subject of this short obituary was removed to his everlasting rest at the time when we looked for his having many years before him of usefulness in St. Jude’s congregation. But our thoughts are not the Lord’s thoughts. We bow submissively to His holy will, at the same time, that the removal of this young man, and of another young man also, was to us like cutting off a right hand or foot. It was the Lord that gave, and He has taken away, and our duty is to be still and know that He is God.

John Macdonald was born at Illeray, North Uist, the 7th day of June, 1887. His father, Ronald Macdonald, was a God-fearing man. John had the privilege of having the example and instructions of his parents till he was sixteen years of age, when he left home for Glasgow. It is too often true that the sons and daughters of pious parents, brought up in the fear and admonition of the Lord at their early homes in the Highlands, cast off all the salutary restraints of their early training, and abandon themselves to all the pleasures of sin in this large city. We have no cause to conclude that the above was true of John Macdonald, although it was true that he was without God and without hope in the world when he came south. When he came to Glasgow he did not attend our Church, as he was an adherent then of the U.F. Church, so that the writer had no knowledge of him at that time.

The first time the writer met him was in the Western Infirmary, Glasgow. He was at that time after undergoing an operation on one of his legs. When a boy at home, he received a severe stroke from a shinty-club, which caused a decay in the shank bone. He was so often unable to attend to his work that his employers sent him into the Infirmary to have the decay in the bone of his leg removed. He told us, when we inquired about the nature of the operation and its cause, that the cause was his own folly, and that the Lord was just in all His contentions with him. He spoke so wisely and seriously that the writer concluded that he was a pious young man. The next time the writer saw him he endeavoured to find out what was his experimental knowledge of law and gospel. Although he was very well instructed as to the literal knowledge of both, yet he confessed his ignorance of the Word in its saving power. His implicit honesty in the answers he gave impressed the writer as being a forerunner of what would follow. When he left the Infirmary he began to attend St. Jude’s. The attention with which he listened, as if afraid to lose one word, was very encouraging to all who observed him. Whoever would be absent, John was always present, both at Sabbath services and weekly prayer meetings. He was the very picture of the young man in whom the Holy Ghost works effectually, described by the late Rev. John Kennedy, Redcastle—”A sharp ear to God’s Word, a closed mouth, and a warm eye towards the Lord’s people.” He was deeply exercised about the all-important question: “What shall I do to be saved?” The writer had an occasion to call upon him, so as to have some conversation with him about his spiritual condition. He had many hard things to say against himself on account of the manner in which he had despised and rejected Christ. It became very evident that he had the root of the matter in him, and that he had tasted many times that the Lord is gracious. Not long after he came before the Kirk-Session for admission to the Lord’s table. His appearance and answers made a deep impression on the elders and the writer, who examined him.

Matters at home in Uist demanded that he should leave Glasgow; which he did. The following has been sent us by the worthy missionary who supplied our congregation there a part of the time when John was at home:—”The first time I saw him he was standing at the church door at Bayhead along with some of the godly men of the congregation. This was my first Sabbath in Uist. After we had shaken hands, he drew a deep sigh and walked into the church. I, being a stranger in the place and somewhat shaky, the thought arose in my mind—this man knows you already. But when I was reading the passage of God’s word from which I was going to make an effort to speak, I felt as if a live spark came from him which warmed my soul and heart with melting power, by which I understood that if he knew me it was not for my hurt. I did not know him then by name, but a union was formed between us that day which continued to the end and has still a strong hold on my heart. His presence at the means of grace on Sabbath days and prayer meetings was ever after that a strength to me, and his company a sweet pleasure. One could not be long in his company without realising his sincere attachment to St. Jude’s congregation and their minister. He often repeated with a deep sigh: ‘What if it will add to my condemnation that I ever went there, for I heard the gospel there! and what if it will be found at last that I have refused it!’ He had a very deep attachment to the late John MacKenzie. I did not know John MacKenzie then. John MacKenzie told me that he asked him when he was leaving Glasgow, ‘When will you come back?’ He answered, ‘Not while my mother is left with me.’ John lost his sister and not long after his mother, so he came back to Glasgow. All who knew of his great bereavements felt the deepest sympathy towards him.

In the early spring of last year, the Kirk-Session of St. Jude’s resolved that an opportunity should be given the members of the congregation to elect six additional elders and eight deacons. This became necessary on account of the number of elders and deacons called to their everlasting rest since the former election. (As has been noticed in our Magazine since, Mr. Donald Kelly was taken from us while this election was being accomplished. This did cast a gloom over our proceedings in this matter; for he was our Session Clerk, and a most useful elder in the congregation). When the lists of voters were opened, it was found that John Macdonald had been elected, and the Session concurred unanimously in his election and suitableness for the office, and ordered the writer to communicate with him so as to get his consent. He replied to the effect that he considered himself unsuitable for such an office, and desired the Session to excuse him, as they could get many men more suitable in the congregation for such an honourable office, than he was. The writer wrote him to come across to see him. After having the matter seriously considered, he promised to give it further thought and prayer. A few days after that he wrote that, notwithstanding he considered himself very unsuitable, he could not now refuse. This reluctance on his part was altogether caused by the low opinion he had of himself, and how he considered others better than himself. He was so conscious of the deceitfulness of his own carnal heart, and the depravity of his nature as fallen, that he had no confidence in the flesh, but daily bemoaned over his depravity which caused him many conflicts.

The writer will never forget the happiness he felt the day of the ordination of these office-bearers. Remembering the two former ordinations in the congregation, he felt sad; but seeing so many comparatively young men, in whom he had confidence, being received into office, made his heart glad. He expressed the hope that he would not have, in his day, to ordain any more office-bearers. But, alas! how soon was this happiness turned into mourning! Two of these young men were called away to be with Christ, which was far better for them, within five months from that date. John Macdonald was the first to be called away.

His health had not been robust for several years, although he was able to attend regularly to his daily employment. His appearance indicated that he was suffering from bloodlessness. On the morning of the 22nd April he felt unfit for work, and it being the sacramental fast day in our congregation, he attended the services. He looked very pale and sickly that day, which caused us all much anxiety. A specialist was called to examine his case, who, after examination, declared it to be an affection of the spleen, and took steps to have him removed into the Royal Infirmary next morning. This doctor did his utmost to have him cured by medicine, and did succeed well for some time, as the improvement in the strength of his blood showed; but by and by the improvement disappeared, and he decided that the only hope of prolonging his life lay in performing an operation. John, on being told of this decision, resigned himself calmly and submissively to the will of the Lord, and gave his consent to undergo the operation. The writer saw him several times while awaiting the operation, and considered his acquiescence in the Lord’s holy providence towards him very exemplary. He said to a friend at this time, “It is hard to part with loved ones, but we must be weaned from them all.” The last time the writer saw him was on the 22nd day of June. He was leaving Glasgow, to attend Communions in the Highlands, the following morning. He seemed calm and composed, but held a gloomy opinion of the result of the operation. There was no great fear of death, should it be the Lord’s will that the time of his departure had come, but a serious resignation of himself and all his concerns into the merciful hands of the Holy One. The writer felt very sad at parting with him that day, not knowing whether he would see him any more in the flesh, but fully assured that, should he be taken away, it would be to be eternally with Christ.

The operation took place on Saturday, 3rd July. He got through it quite successfully, and was progressing favourably until Thursday the 8th of July, when signs appeared which caused anxiety. On the 9th he was better. Mr. William Grant, student, called to see him that night, and he asked him to read the seventeenth chapter of John’s Gospel. After worship ended he said to Mr. Grant: “There is a portion of God’s Word on my mind. I know it has another application, but it has a special application for me now. The portion is: ‘He brought me forth also into a large place; he delivered me, because he delighted in me'” (Psalm xviii. 19). He repeated several times the words, “He brought me forth also into a large place.” The impression left on Mr. Grant’s mind was that he meant that the Lord had already brought him forth from darkness to light, but that now the Lord was to bring him from time to eternity. He sent a message to Mrs. Macdonald that night, that he was “quite reconciled to whatever was to come.” She had been, during the three years they lived together, a true helpmeet for him, who was his companion in all the spiritual joys and conflicts of their sincere Christian life together. To part now must have been painful, not only for flesh and blood, but for grace also. It is but dutiful that notice should be taken here of the emphasis with which he spoke of the very great kindness shown him by the day and night nurses who attended to him, with such tender care and sympathy, in the Royal Infirmary.

On Saturday the 10th July, another relapse took place. A special messenger was sent to his wife, and she and her sister came immediately to his bedside. He said to them early on Sabbath morning: “I am now on the brink of eternity, and I can testify that a deathbed is not the place to prepare for death.” On being asked how he knew that it was the Sabbath, he replied that he did know, and repeated:—

“This is the day God made; in it
We’ll joy triumphantly.
Save now, I pray thee, Lord; I pray,
Send now prosperity.
Blessed is he in God’s great name
That cometh us to save;
We, from the house which to the Lord
Pertains, you blessed have.”—Ps. cxviii. 24-26.

Although he suffered very great pain, he uttered not a murmur, and his mind was constantly exercised in the truth. Shortly before he passed away he said twice: “I want home.” His wife and her sister understood that he meant the home above, where he now is. The words:—”When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee” (Isa. xliii. 2), were repeated to him. He replied: “We have found it fulfilled in our experience until now.” Shortly after this he fell asleep, and as the chief doctor was coming into the ward, Mrs. Macdonald and her sister had to go out. When the doctor was standing at his bedside, the beloved John Macdonald passed away to be with Him who loved, redeemed, and saved him, so that when they were allowed to return into the ward they found that he had passed away at 12.30 p.m., the 11th July, 1920.

So, John Macdonald passed away on the Sabbath day to enjoy the rest that remains to the people of God. The writer was informed by telegram from day to day after the operation as to his condition. The wire sent on Saturday evening prepared him for the sad news received on Monday morning. John’s death cast a cloud of sadness over the whole congregation of St. Jude’s, and also over all who knew him, north and south. His age was thirty-three years. His remains were laid to rest in Strathdearn, Inverness-shire, there to await the day when all the dead that are in their graves shall hear the voice of the Son of God, and come forth. John Macdonald will stand in his place that day.

The writer desires to convey his own, and the elders and all the congregation of St. Jude’s deepest and sincerest sympathy to his lonely and mournful widow, and infant boy, and to all her family who deeply mourn their loss, and also to all friends who mourn their and our loss, which was his everlasting gain and blessedness.

N. C.

The late Donald MacLeod, Elder,

ST. JUDE’S, GLASGOW.

DONALD MACLEOD was born at Bailachuirn, Raasay, in February, 1877. His father, Torquil MacLeod, and his mother lived an exemplary moral life, and trained their children well. When Donald was about twelve years of age, his conscience was greatly alarmed while listening to a lecture delivered by the late Alexander MacLennan, Rona. This concern about his soul continued for a considerable time, during a part of which Satan tempted him to put an end to his own life by drowning; but the Lord, who had a purpose of mercy towards him, frustrated Satan’s evil design. This seriousness wore away through time, and Donald became quite unconcerned, notwithstanding he could not altogether forget at times the terribleness of the condition of a sinner under the curse of God’s law, and this would cause him to begin again to pray in private.

When he was nineteen years of age he came south to Glasgow, and entered as an apprentice to learn to be a carpenter in one of the shipbuilding yards on the Clyde. He was not many years there when he fell thirty feet off a scaffold, and was taken in an unconscious state to the Western Infirmary, Glasgow, where he continued unconscious for three days and nights. In the mercy of God he awakened, and gradually recovered so far as to be able to return home to Raasay. He remained at home for five years, and then, finding that he was fit for resuming work again, he went to Inverness to learn to be a house joiner. In the summer of 1907 he returned to Glasgow, and worked as a joiner in the Caledonian Railway Company’s St. Rollox Works to the end of his natural life, last year. Shortly after his return to Glasgow he got married, and took up his permanent abode in the city. In the winter of 1913 he was awakened to real concern about his need of forgiveness of sin and peace with God. The struggle was sharp, but the Lord heard poor Donald’s cries for mercy, and gave him both a sense of forgiveness and peace by applying powerfully to his guilty conscience the words: “The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin.” If his fears and sorrow were great before, his joy in the Lord Jesus Christ, and in the infinite mercy of God through the atonement made on Calvary’s cross, became now the theme of his song in the wilderness.

When he was to come before our Session in order to be examined for the baptism of his first child, he felt so much the burden of the vows he was to make that he said to his wife: “I hope that they will refuse to give me baptism.” But, on the contrary, the effect of his examination on the Session was, that they concluded that he was deeply sensible of his condition as a guilty and ruined sinner before God, and that he had no hope of being saved but through the merit of the blood of Christ. So Donald was not refused, as he desired. He called to see the writer some time after this so as to unburden his mind, as he was feeling it to be his duty to profess his Lord and Saviour publicly, but was much afraid that he was not truly converted, and that by taking that step he might be eating and drinking condemnation to himself. After having a serious talk with him as to his knowledge and experience, the writer told him that he was fully convinced that it was his duty to come before the Session with a view to his becoming a member in full communion with the Church. So at the next Communion season he came. The Session were so satisfied with him that it gave them very great pleasure to have a young man of such sound knowledge and experience added to the Communion Roll of the congregation. After he was examined, he appealed to the Session that, if they were not quite satisfied with him, he would consider it a kindness from them to refuse him admission. One of the elders said after he went away: “I wish there were many young men like Donald Macleod.” In this statement all the members present concurred. He did come to the Lord’s table then, and his presence and prayers in the public means of grace became a strength and encouragement to all the Lord’s people in St. Jude’s.

He was not at all strong, although he attended with great regularity to his work. During five years he suffered very much with one of his eyes, and was at times compelled to keep in his bed. This passed away, but he began to feel great pain in his left side. He also vomited some blood at that time. The writer felt convinced that there was something organically wrong with his whole system, but Donald never told him that he had had such a serious accident as is recorded above, and it was when he was on his death-bed that the writer was told it.

In the early spring of 1920 the Session resolved that additional elders and deacons should be elected, and gave an opportunity to the members to elect whom they chose. Donald Macleod was elected. When he was written to for his consent and acceptance of the office of an elder, he came to see the writer, and endeavoured to persuade him that he was very unsuitable for the office; but, after a long and serious conversation about the matter, the writer asked him whether any portion of God’s Word had come to his mind about it, he said: “I must be honest and confess that the words: ‘Arise, be doing’ (1 Chron. xxii. 6) came to my mind when thinking seriously and prayerfully about my duty.” So he was prevailed upon to accept the office. Mrs. MacLeod told the writer since that he said to her at that time: “I don’t know what to do, but the words, ‘Arise, be doing,’ have come to me about this serious matter, and therefore I think it my duty, for the short time I have to live, not to refuse, so I’ll not refuse.” In due time he was ordained an elder in St. Jude’s.

The writer felt very happy at seeing so many young men, in whom he had confidence, before him that day being ordained to offices in the congregation, and expressed the pleasure it gave him, because he expected that he would not have to ordain any more office-bearers during his ministry in the congregation. But, alas! how true it is that “All flesh is grass, and all the glory of man is as the flower of grass!” for in less than six months two of these were called away to their everlasting rest. At the first meeting of the Kirk-Session after the meeting of our Synod last year, Donald was duly elected by our Session to represent them in the Southern Presbytery and Synod during the current year. He attended a meeting or two of the Presbytery, but, to the profound sorrow of that court, he was taken away. All these reminiscences add to our sorrow; but we desire with all our heart to submit to the will of the Lord in this matter.

When John Macdonald, his brother elder, was taken to the Infirmary, Donald said to his wife one morning: “I had a dream last night that John Macdonald and myself went through an operation together, and that after the operation we were together.” (He had profound regards for John Macdonald.) So it came to pass, Donald went away for holidays to Raasay about the beginning of July and attended the Communions there and at Staffin, Skye. At the latter place his cheek swelled, and he suffered considerable pain, but friends thought it was an ordinary gumboil, and that it would in due course pass away. When he left Raasay for Glasgow, his cheek was much swollen. He said to his sister at home when parting with her: “When I think of going back to work with these monsters of men, it is enough for me!” One thing which pained him much was that, with the exception of Donald’s mate, they all worked on the Sabbath day. After he returned to Glasgow, his cheek caused him much pain, and as it was not getting better, he was taken into the Royal Infirmary. His wife, whom he left in Raasay, was sent for, and when she came she found him in the Infirmary. This was about the beginning of August. He continued to get worse daily. The writer came home about the middle of August, and took the first opportunity of going to see him. He was quite composed in his mind, but expressed his firm conviction that his end was near. The doctors, after doing all they could to remove his trouble, came to the conclusion that something was seriously wrong with his system, so they sent word to his wife who told them of the accident which he had twenty years before then. This explained to them what they could not understand till then. The writer had an interview with a specialist who was called in to examine his case, who told him that his case was very serious, as the cause of the sickness was a dangerous disorder of his whole system, but that he would not conclude that there was no hope. This, humanly speaking, left a ray of hope, but he continued to become weaker from day to day. The writer saw him for the last time on the 17th day of August, and he felt very painfully that it was more than probable that it was their final meeting in this world. On the 26th August he passed away to be for ever with Christ. His dream was fulfilled—he and John Macdonald underwent an operation each in the Infirmary, and then they were together in an endless eternity of blessedness.

Donald was a great lover of the Sabbath day. He used to say to Mrs. MacLeod: “This is the blessed Sabbath day, I wish every day were a holy Sabbath.” He is now enjoying his wish; for he enjoys the everlasting Sabbath of glory. The desecration of the Lord’s day by patients and some of the nurses in the Infirmary pained him very much, as it does everyone who calls the Sabbath a delight. John Macdonald complained to us more than once of the sinful manner in which patients conducted themselves on that blessed day of holy rest; also another God-fearing man said to us: “I will be looking at the clock, and I feel a great relief when it passes twelve on Sabbath night.” This relief was felt, not because that man wished the Sabbath to pass away; but on account of the sinful manner in which the Lord’s commandment was transgressed in the place. It is a lamentable thing that man brought up in the land of the Bible should act so, and it must be doubly provoking to the Lord of the Sabbath that this should be true of men in a country that used to be designated: “Sabbath-loving Scotland.”

Donald used to lean over his children while they lay asleep in their beds, and many times wept on account of his concern for the salvation of their souls. Many a prayer he put up for them. May the Hearer of prayer answer these prayers by bringing them to “repentance toward God and faith toward the Lord Jesus Christ,” and may the Lord be the stay of his lonely widow and a Father to her seven fatherless children. To His tender mercy, the writer desires to entrust them in all their concerns, both spiritual and temporal. The deepest sympathy of the whole congregation, and of all who knew Donald MacLeod and appreciated his sterling worth as a sincere Christian in whom there was no guile, is extended to Mrs. MacLeod and her fatherless children. “Help, Lord; for the godly man ceaseth; for the faithful fail from among the children of men.”

N. C.

Memoirs of Elizabeth Cairns.

Written by herself some years before her death, and now taken from her original Copy with great care and diligence.

“Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare what he hath done for my soul.”—PSALM lxvi. 16.

“As we have heard, so have we seen in the city of the Lord of Hosts.”—PSALM xlvi. 8.

“Beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image, from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord.”—2 COR. iii. 18.

(Continued from page 340.)