IT is with sincere regret that we record the death of Donald Mackenzie (Domhnuill Tàilear), Elder, North Tolsta, Lewis, which took place on 2nd March 1922. There were, perhaps, few men in the Free Presbyterian Church better known to outsiders, owing to the fact that his pert sayings were frequently quoted by ministers and others in public. No sketch of his life, however perfect, can give any adequate conception to strangers of what a unique man he was. One would require to know him privately to understand his deep, simple, honest piety. He was about the last, if, indeed, not the last, of a former class of Christians who, by real godliness in life and conversation, won, without seeking it, a place in the estimation of the people. Donald felt himself like “a sparrow on the house-top,” his former companions having passed before him to their eternal rest.
Donald was born eighty-nine years ago, at North Tolsta, where he lived all his days, except when away at the East Coast fishing. He had the great advantage in his boyhood of being brought up in a home in which the Lord was feared and worshipped. His father was a noted and prominent Christian in his day, and there were giants in grace then. No example or training, however, will change the lost state or ruined nature of man, and so Donald grew up a careless sinner, until he was about 18 or 20 years of age. The instrument used in the Lord’s hand in bringing him to a sense of his lost condition was that eminent servant of Christ, the late Mr MacMaster, then minister of Back. The portion of Scripture which found a joint in Donald’s harness was Ps. xvi. 2—”My goodness extendeth not to thee.” After passing through fire and water of deep conviction, he was delivered from the fearful pit and miry clay through the same person, Mr MacMaster. He related to a friend some time before he died that the day on which the Lord visited his soul with the “peace that passeth all understanding,” though one would tell him he would get a vessel full of sovereigns at the door of the church, he would not move from his seat in case he would lose one word of what Mr MacMaster said. The enemy who is ever on the alert to harass God’s children did not allow poor Donald to enjoy his peace very long, but soon cast him into great darkness by suggesting to him that he had put a wrong interpretation on the passage by which he was awakened, and therefore that he had nothing but a delusion. This temptation kept him for several years from making a public profession. When he did come before the Session, with a view to admission as a member in full communion, the Rev. Mr Maclean, Mr MacMaster’s successor, said that they would not examine him, and that they expected him long before then. Donald insisted on being examined, but the Session absolutely refused. This action of the Session was a source of temptation to him all his life-time, the Enemy often insinuating that had he been examined he had not what would stand the examination even of his fellow-men, and that no one was ever admitted as he was. He was greatly relieved, however, some years ago, when a friend, not knowing Donald’s trouble, casually told him in conversation that he had been received in the above manner, and that it had been a source of great temptation to him. He referred to this conversation on his death-bed, as being of much comfort and help to him.
Donald had a most fascinating manner, gentle and simple, which endeared him to young and old. When he rose to speak to the “question,” all present would be most attentive, expecting to hear some apt illustration of his own experience. Though not endowed with great mental powers, yet he always showed a mind deeply exercised in spiritual things, and could express himself in very choice language. He seldom referred publicly to Church matters, but he had a clear and distinct understanding of the reasons why he became a Free Presbyterian, and could state these clearly when occasion demanded. To the position he took up in 1893 he firmly adhered without wavering to the end.
The prosperity of Christ’s cause at home and abroad was ever near to his heart, but he was particularly interested in its welfare in North Tolsta. When the congregation took practical steps to rebuild the church which was demolished by the terrific gale which passed over the Island in the Spring of 1921, Donald, though very feeble, could be seen making his way every day, in whatever kind of weather, to see how the building was progressing. It was his great desire to see the house opened for public worship before he died, and this desire was granted him. He was also much concerned as to how the cost of the building would be met, and this concern he showed in act when on several occasions he presented himself at the treasurer’s house with his Old Age Pension, just as he received it from the paying officer.
We have already mentioned that Donald was particularly well known for his apt illustrations. We instance the following from among many:—
In speaking of his own experience as an awakened sinner, he said:—”When a boy, I one day got into a boat, and while amusing myself, I did not observe that the boat had drifted away from the shore, and, the wind being off the land, was being carried out to sea. To my horror and consternation, I saw there was a considerable leak in its bottom. I began to bale with all my might, but, for all my efforts, the volume of water was increasing until at last the sea was freely coming in and going out again over the gunwale. The boat was now sinking under me, and it was useless to continue my efforts any longer. I was lost. At that moment another boat appeared on the scene, and saved me from my perilous position.” This he applied to the futile efforts of an awakened sinner labouring under the covenant of works. When, however, he had given himself up as lost, the Spirit revealed Christ to him in the covenant of grace to his joy and salvation.
On another occasion, in giving marks of grace, he said:—”I was one day at sea, and was caught in a terrific storm. The boat capsized, and all on board were cast into the sea. When struggling in the water, my first and only thought was for my own safety. No sooner, however, was I rescued than my mind reverted to my poor companions, and the question then was—’Would they be saved?’ ‘It is true,’ he continued, ‘of all the Lord’s people that when they can entertain a good hope through grace for their own salvation, they have a longing desire to see their former companions and fellow-sinners saved also.'”
Referring to the temptations and difficulties of a convicted sinner, and the improper use Satan would make of certain passages and doctrines of the Word of God, and particularly of the doctrine of election, he used the following illustration:—”One day we were caught in a heavy storm at sea, and were driven before the wind. As we were being furiously carried along, we saw to our great alarm that we were about to be driven on to a point of land which, to all appearances, would bring about our destruction. If wishing could have done it, I would have torn that promontory out of existence, for, thought I, had it not been there, there would be some hope of our being saved. It seemed, however, that it was to be the principal cause of our doom. In the merciful providence of God, we were able to get round it safely to the lee or sheltered side, and now, instead of being our peril, it was our best protection. I tell you, there was not at that moment a bit of the whole creation that I loved more than that point. So was it with the child of God and the doctrine of election.” It will perhaps be necessary to explain, for the information of strangers, that Donald was a fisherman, so that the above illustrations were from actual incidents connected with his daily calling.
Speaking of the sad state of the believer, when the Lord hid his face, he said:—”I remember on one occasion losing a certain thing (probably his spectacles), which to me was indispensable. Being alone in the house, I took the liberty of searching all corners and turning up everything in it. I suppose it did not get such a turning up since its foundation was laid, but all to no purpose. As I sat disconsolately by the fire, mourning over my loss, I happened to put my hand in my pocket, and to my great surprise and relief, found there what I had been searching for. I had the article in my possession all the time, although for the moment I could not lay my hand on it.”
In making a distinction between the hypocrite and the true believer, he said:—”Chickens whenever hatched may be seen running about the dunghill, but the young brood of the lark will be weeks before they are able to leave their nests. But wait a little,” he added, in his own quaint, inimitable way, “and you will soon see the young lark high up in the sky, singing the praises of the Creator, while the chicken is still on the dunghill. Such is the case with the true believer and the hypocrite.”
Though Donald retained his mental powers unimpaired to the end, it was evident to all for a number of years back, and especially since the death of his son John, that his physical health was rapidly declining. The severe blow he received in the death of his beloved John, who was killed in France, weighed heavily upon him. John, as the most of our readers are aware, was one of our most promising students, and to him his father was deeply attached. Though he felt his death so keenly yet he never complained, but resigned himself submissively to the will of Him who doeth all things well. The first time the writer went to see him after the sad news had come, he expressed himself pleased to see how wonderfully Donald was upheld under the heavy blow. He seemed quite bright and cheerful. “Well,” he said, “Satan himself did not take upon him to say that John was not with Christ in heaven, and if I believe, as I have every reason to believe, that he is with Christ, should I not be proud rather than sorry that one of my offspring is with Him? I cannot think of John as dead, but as alive with Christ.”
During his last illness, while confined to bed, he suffered little or no pain. When asked if his bed was easy and comfortable, he answered, “Yes, and I will soon have an easier one, for I shall shortly be free from all trouble and sorrow, for my hope rests firmly on Christ’s finished work.” The day before he died, he mentioned that he had seen “Murchaidh Ruadh,” Crowlista, Uig, in his sleep, but could not get near him, as there was a ferry between them. “Murchaidh” was an eminent Christian who died in Uig some years ago. He said he also spoke to his father, who looked so beautiful that he felt ashamed of himself in his company. Donald has now gone to be with his heavenly Father and Elder Brother, where there is neither sin, shame, nor sorrow. By his removal a great blank has been made in the congregation and Church at large. May the Lord in His mercy heal the wide breach.
To the sorrowing family and congregation we tender our sincere sympathy, and pray that the children be raised up instead of the father.
N. M.
Searmoinean leis an Urramach Honghas MacMhaoilán. Searmoin III. Eoin, I. Caib, 29 Rann. “Feuch Uain Dé, a ta toirt air falbh peacaidh an t-saoghail.”
(Continued from page 252).
II. Theid mi nis air m’ aghaidh gu bhi toirt fa’neár, an doigh anns am bheil Criost a toirt air falbh peacaidh an t-saoghail.
I. Anns a cheud àite, tha gach seorsa daoiné, eadar Iudhaich agus Chinnich, air an deanamh nan luchd-compairt do thoradh na h-iobairt a thug Criost suas air a chrann-chéusaidh. Fo n’ t-Seann-Tiomnaidh, cha robh ach na h-Iudhaich a mhain nam pobull sonraichte aig Dia; bha na Cinnich, ann an tomhas mòr, air an druideadh a mach c shoch-airibh na h-eaglais, agus air am fàgail “gum Dia agus gun dòchas anns an t-saoghail.” Cha robh buannachd na fola a bha air a dortadh ‘s an tcampull, agus nan iobairtibh a bha air an toirt suas an sin, a dol ni b’ fhaide na tìr Iudea; seadh, cha robh éifeachd aanta chum peacanna luchd-àiteachaidh Iudea féin a thoirt air falbh. Ach ann an toiseach linn an t-soisgeil, bha dorus na h-eaglais air fhosgladh do luchd-àiteachaidh na talmhainn anns a choitchionn, agus bha na Cinnich, co maith ris na h-Iudhaich, air an cuireadh a dh’ ionnsuidh an tobair a dh’ fhosgail Dia air son peacaidh agus neoghloine; air an gairm gu bhi luchd-compairt do thoradh iobairt uil’ fhoghainteachd an Tighearn Iosa Criosd. ‘Se Criosd Slanuighear coitchionn an t-soaghal, agus mar Shlàn-uighear tha e leòir fhoghainteach a leasachadh gach uireas-bhuidh, agus a leigheas gach truaighe a thug am peacadh air a chinneadh dhaonna gu h-iomlan; agus tha gach seorsa daofine, tha Iudhaich is Cinnich, saor agus daor, failteach gu teachid d’ a ionnsuidh, agus gu bhi gabhail do uisge na beatha gu saor. Gaidheadh cha ‘n fheud sinn a chomh-dhunadh o bhriath-raibh ar teagaigse, gu ‘n do cheannaich Criosd saorsa shlorruidh air son nan uile dhaoine, na gu ‘m bhi na h-uile dhaoine air an toirt gu sealbh air beatha mhaireanneach trid feartaibh na h-iobairt a thug e suas; cha bhiodh an co-dhunadh so idir a cordach ri riaghalt ar creidimh, na ri faireachdainn dhaoine. Cha do thagh Dia an cinneadh daonna uile chum ‘sláinte; agus cha d’ earb e r’ a Mhac saorsa shlorruidh a cheannach, ach air son na muinntir a thagh e. Cha do leag Criosda sios a bheatha ach air son a chaoraich fèin, air son na muinntir a chuir an t-Athair air a chùram o bhith-bhùantachd, ‘s ann a shirreadh agus a thearnadh na muinntir so, a thaing e dh’ ionnsuidh an t-soaghal, agus ‘s ann air an son a thug se e fèin suas mar iobairt gun smal do Dhia. Tha eifeachd ni ‘s leòir ann am fuil Criosd chum cionta an t-soaghal gu h-iomlan a thoirt air falbh, nam b’òch i air a dortadh chum na crìche sin; ach ‘s e mhuinntir a thug an t-Athair dha as gach cinn-each, teangadh, agus pobull, an soaghal air son an do dhoirt e fhuil, air son an dho cheannaich e saorsa shlorruidh, agus mu thimchioll an dubhairt, e, “bheiream a bheatha mhair-eannach dhoibh, agus cha sgriosar iad am feasd, agus ni mo a spionas neach air bith as mo laimh iad.”
- Bha peacanna pobuill thaghta Dhé gu h-iomlan air a’ meas do Chriosd mar an Urras, agus air an leagail air le Dia an t-Athair, chum ‘s gu ‘n d’ thugadh e air falbh iad. Chuir an t-Athair am pobull a thagh e air cùram a Mhic, agus dh’ earb e ris saorsa shlorruidh cheannach dhoibh; ach bha iad nam pobull ciontach agus uireas-bhuidheadh, a bha fo fhiach-aibh trom do lagh ‘s do cheartas Dè, nach bu chomasach iad fèin air chor sam bith an dioladh. Ach ciod air bith co ciontach agus uireasbhuidheadh ‘s a bha iad, ghabh Criosd air a chùram iad gu toileach, agus ghabh e os laimh seasamh mar Urras nan àite, agus agus am fiachain uile phàigheadh gus an fheòirling dheireannach. Gidheadh, bha so a dheanamh na ni ro-chosdail do Chriosd; chosd e suim mhòr dha-san saorsa shlorruidh a cheannach do shaoghal ciontach agus caillte: ach ghràdhaich e a muinntir a thug an t-Athair dha, air a leithid a dhoigh, is gu robh e toilcach saorsa cheannach dhoibh-san, ciod air bith a chosdadh e dha féin; bha e toilcach e féin irioslachadh, e féin a dheanamh bochd, fhuil féin a dhortadh, agus a bheatha leagail sios mar éiric air an son. Bha Criosd toilcach, cha ‘n e mhain na nithibh so uile dheanamh, ach chuir e ‘n deadh thoil so ‘n gniomh, an uair a thaining am t-am a bha air ordachadh ann an comhairle na sith o shior-uidheachd, gu n’ d’ thugadh e làn dioladh do cheartas Dè air son peacanna a shluagh.
An uair a thainig an t-am so, ghabh Criosd air féin cionta nan daoiné taghta gu h-iomlan; o ‘n uallach so shaor e ‘n guala-san, thog e dhiubh an t-eallach trom fo ‘n robh iad ann an cunnart a bhi air am bruthadh gu siorduidh ann an ifrinn, agus ghiúlain e air falbh uath e, co fhad ‘s a tha ‘n aird an ear ‘s an iar o cheile. Mar rinn am boig-aibhre a chaidh as le lochdan chloinn Israeil gu iéir air a cheann, an giúlan air falbh do ‘n fhasach, gu ionad neo-aitichte, far nach cuelas guth na sgeul am feasd tuille mu ‘n timchioll—mar sin thug Criosd air falbh peacanna a phobuill gu tir na di-chuimhne, gu ionad anns nach cuimhnichear iad ni ‘s mo. “Chuir e as do ‘n pheacadh, chriochnaich e eu-ceart, rinn e réite air son aingidheachd, agus thug e steach fireantachd shiorruidh.”
- Thug Criosd peacanna a phobuill air falbh, le peanas toillteanach a pheacaídh fhulang na chorp, agus na anam féin, air an chrann-cheusaidh. Tha uachdarain an t-saoghail so air an ordachadh le Dia gu bhi ‘nan aobhar eagail do dhroch oibríbh, gu bhi cumail sios droch gniomharan le bhi gan smachdachadh. ‘S e so gu cimteach aon do na croichaibh air son an robh uachdarain shiobhalta air an ordachadh le Dia. Ach an uair a tha uachdarain rioghachd air bith dearmadach ann a bhi cronachadh, ‘s a smachdachadh an uile, chor ‘s gu bheil luchd droch-bheart a fàs dan agus lionmhor, le bhi dol as o pheanas, tha ‘n rioghachd sin gu mòr air a truailleadh, tha uallach trom do chionta luidhe oirre, a tha brosnachadh Dhé gu feirg, gu bhi ga fiosrachadh le sgiursadh goirt do bhreitheanas-aibh. Ach chum an leithid so do aobharaibh brosnachaidh agus breitheanas a thoirt air falbh, bha Dia ag aithneadh do uachdaranaibh a phobuill féin o shean, a bhi cuir diogaltais an gniomh air luchd-deanamh an uile. “Mar so, deir an Tighearna, cuirdh sibh air falbh an t-olc as bhur meadhon, chum gu ‘n eirich gu maith dhuibh.” A nis, tha e soillear o ‘n leithid so a bhriathraibh, a tha tachairt oirnn gu tric ann an leabhraichean Mhaois, gu robh clann Isreal air an gairm gu bhi cuir cionta air falbh, le bhi deanamh peanas air a chiontach; gu bhi cuir air falbh an uile, le bhi smachdachadh an uile. Air an amhuil cheudna, thug Dia air falbh peacaidh an t-saoghail, le buille trom an smachdachadh a thoill e, a leagaíl air aon ghin Mhic féin, air urras a dhaoine taghta.
An uair a bha neach air bith do chloinn Israel a toirt suas uan, na creutair air bith eile, mar iobairt air son peacaidh, bha e ‘g aideachadh a pheacanna le lamhaibh leagta air ceann na h-iobairt, agus air an doigh dheas-ghnàthach so, a fagail a pheacanna féin air ceann na h-iobairt a bha e toirt suas, chor ‘s gu robh an creutair neo-chiontach, air a mheas mar chiontach, agus air a chuir gu bàs an àite a chiontaich, agus an ciontach a dol as saor. Fo ‘n t-Sean-Tiomnadh, bha aon chreutair gu tric a fulang air son creutair eile—seadh, bha aon chreutair gu tric air a chuir gu bàs, agus air iobradh air altair Dhé, air son mòram do chreutairibh eile; air an amhuil cheudna, dhoirt Criosd fhuil air son maitheanas peacaidh mhòrain. B’ e Criosd urras pobuill thaighta Dhé agus bha ‘n t-urras ni bu mho, agus ni b’ oirdheirce nan t-iomlan do ‘n phobull so; ghabh Dia ris an àite an iomlain, agus leag e air aingidheachd an iomlain, chor ‘s gu robh an neo-chiontach air a mheas mar chiontach, air a smachdachadh mar chiontach, agus air a chuir gu bàs an àite nan ciontach, chum an cionta thóirt air falbh, agus an deanamh réidh ri Dia. A nis, tha e soillear o na nithibh so uile, gur ann tre ‘n dioladh a thug Criosd do cheartas Dé, le fhulangasaibh agus le bhàs, a thug e air falbh neacaidh an t-saoghail.
- Tha peacanna deiscibuil Chriosd air an toirt air falbh, an uair a tha iad air am maitheadh dhoibh, agus air an dubhadh a mach a leabhar cuimhne Dhé. Cheannaich Criosd maitheanas peacaidh, agus gach bean-nachadh spioraidail eile air son a phobuill, an uair a chriochnaich e obair air a chrann-cheusaidh; ach cha n’eil buan nachd na saorsa a cheannaich e aca-san, cho fhad ‘s a tha iad a buanachadh nan staid neo-iompaichte. ‘S ann le bhi air an iompachadh a tha iad air an deanamh nan luchd-compairt do ‘n t-saorsa a cheannaich Criosd. “Air an aobhar sin,” a dubhairt an t-Abstol Peadar ris na h-Iudhaich, “deamaibhse aithreachas, agus bithibh air an n iompachadh, chum gu ‘m bi bhur peacanna air an glanadh as, an uair a thig amanna fionnuaireachd o làthair an Tighearnna.” Cia fhad ‘s tha daoine buanachadh nan staid neo-iompaichte, tha ‘m peacanna a dol an lionmhoirachd, tha ‘n cionta ga antromachadh, agus tha ‘n cunntas a tha nan ghaoidh, ann an leabhar-cuimhne Dhè, a gnath a dol a’ meud; ach co luath ‘s a tha am peacach air a dhùsgadh air iroslachadh, agus a pilleadh a dh’ ionnsuidh Dhè le fior aithreachas, tha Dia, ann a thròcair, a cuir folach air a chionta, is eas-aontas, a labhairt sith r’ a anam, agus a tilgeadh uile lochdan ann an doimhneachdaibh na fairege. Tha ‘na nithe a rinn agus a dh’ fhuiling Criosd air son na muinntir a thug an t-Athair dha, air an cuir sios ann an leabhar cuimhne Dhe, co maith ri peacanna a phobuill, agus co luath ‘s a tha e faicinn neach sam bith, air son a’ do dhoirt Criosd fhuil, air son an do leag e sios a bheatha, air irioslachadh, a treigsinn a pheacaidh, agus a striochdadh d’ a Mhac, tha e ‘g amharc ann a leabhar, cha ‘n e mhain air a chunntas a tha ‘n aghaidh a pheacaidh, ach mar an ceudna, air na nithibh a rinn agus a dh’ fhuiling Criosd air a shon, agus air sgath an dioladh a thug Criosd air a shon, tha ‘pheacanna air an glanadh as, air an dubhadh gu h-ionlan a mach a leabhar cuimhne Dhe
(Re leantuin.)