BY THE REV. D. BEATON, WICK.
“For they are dead which sought the young child’s life.”—Matt. ii. 20.
CHRIST had no sooner appeared in the world than Hell was moved to its depths against Him. With a skill which was not lacking in persistent determination to thwart the divine purpose, Satan marshalled his forces and inspired his instruments for the overthrow of that Kingdom which was to be set up as an everlasting Kingdom—“for of a truth,” says Peter, “against Thy Holy Child Jesus, whom Thou hast anointed, both Herod, and Pontius Pilate, with the Gentiles, and the people of Israel, were gathered together” (Acts iv. 27). But Satan had miscalculated the tremendous resources of power against which he threw his hosts, and had completely under-estimated the deep, unsearchable counsels which eternal wisdom had decreed for the frustrating of every attack of the adversary, and for consummation of the great design that the God of salvation had in view. This was a conflict in which God’s glory was at stake, and the hope of a countless number of the race to which we belong. To God the issue was certain from the beginning, but to men looking on how often it appeared that the forces of darkness were to gain the day. As the Redeemer entered into the battle with the crown upon His head, conquering and to conquer, men were too ready to have their eyes diverted by the great upheavals caused by the struggle, instead of keeping them fixed upon the One who was ruling in the midst of His enemies with the assured knowledge that the issues of the day were to be on the side of eternal truth and righteousness. Viewed from one standpoint, nothing seemed so easy of accomplishment as the utter destruction of God’s great plan. He, upon whom the accomplishment of this design rested, was a weak and helpless infant, and nothing was easier for
Satan than to work on the mind of one of his servants to stretch forth their hand against Jesus. When men were told that through this Child the great purpose of salvation was to be brought about, they might have said that the hopes of that countless number who were to be saved was hanging upon the breath of a helpless infant. But this is not a correct way of viewing the matter, for while it is true that the Lord Jesus was a helpless infant, it is no less true that He was the everlasting God, and no created power—angelic or otherwise—could touch that life until He gave permission. In this case, as in the case of His cause, it was hanging on the slender thread of life, but that thread, said Beza, was in the hand of God, whose power is irresistible. Satan’s attempt to frustrate God’s design was not met by the exerting of power sufficient to crush Herod, but by the use of means to render null the well-planned scheme of Satan. And when God’s time had come, He summoned the defeated tyrant into His presence to answer for his misdeeds. It was when this took place that the announcement was made—”For they are dead which sought the young Child’s life.” In these words we read heaven’s divine announcement, not only in regard to this attempt to frustrate God’s purpose, but to every attempt that has been made, is being made, and will be made to the end of time. However long the struggle may last, and however hopeless it may appear to God’s people to battle any longer, the day is coming when it may be written at the head of every chapter of history describing the conflicts against the cause of Christ—”They are dead who sought the young Child’s life.” The same words epitomise the description of the issue in the spiritual struggle of God’s people also; for, as surely as it was announced to Israel and witnessed by their very eyes—”The Egyptians whom ye have seen to-day, ye shall see them again no more for ever” (Exodus xiv. 13), so surely will it one day be fulfilled that every power that sought to destroy the life of grace in the soul will be subdued. For our present purpose, however, we intend to consider these words as conveying a message to us in connection with the opposition Christ’s cause has met, is meeting, and will yet meet in the world. The methods Satan has adopted to destroy Christ’s cause have been so varied and so incessantly supplemented by new methods the moment he discovers the old are a failure, as to indicate that there is a ceaseless vigilance and malevolent determination to crush the cause of truth if Satan can accomplish it. It is to be observed that
whatever differences there may be in the plan of attack, the objective is always the same—the destruction of God’s cause—and towards that goal Satanic subtlety directs its attacks and Satanic power drives them home. The more one reads the history of the Church of God in the world with his mind fixed on this aspect of its history the more will he be impressed with the thought that it is a miracle of miracles that there is a cause of Christ in the world, and the only explanation that can be given of its existence is that the Saviour’s promise is being realised before our very eyes—”The gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” We shall now proceed to notice some of the methods Satan adopts to destroy God’s cause in the world.
I. Satan attempts to destroy God’s cause by stirring up men to put Christ to death. This was a well-planned scheme, and though it failed in the first attempt, when Herod, under the instigation of Satan, stretched out his hand against the Lord’s Anointed, he did not give up his plan. When He came to Nazareth, where He had been brought up, and read the divine promise announcing His own coming and His work, the eyes of all in the synagogue were fastened on Him, but, as He expounded the truth, all in the synagogue were filled with wrath, “and rose up, and thrust Him out of the city, and led Him unto the brow of the hill whereon their city was built, that they might cast Him down headlong” (Luke iv. 29). But, on this occasion, as at the first, “He went His way.” Time and again this plan looked like it would be carried out, but it failed. His hour was not yet come, but when that hour came—the hour and power of darkness—He was delivered over into the hands of His enemies. The demonic hatred with which Satan had drenched the hearts of men was soon to find expression in one of the most vengeful cries that ever was heard in this world, and in one of the most awful prayers that ever was made to the Judge of the whole earth—”Away with Him! Away with Him! Crucify Him!”—”His blood be on us, and on our children.” If there could be joy in hell, the devil would have felt it when that awful cry was heard on earth. It looked like at length that a decisive victory had been won. But if such a hope was ever entertained it must have been shattered by the extraordinary happenings of the resurrection morn. The One who died in weakness was alive, and now alive for ever more; and in the message He gave to His persecuted servant in Patmos—”I am He that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am
alive for ever more”—we have the divine announcement of the eternal frustration of Satan’s well-planned and seemingly successful scheme. But what has the word of God to say as to the issue of this struggle of which we have been speaking?—it declares that He made a show of principalities and powers—that He led captivity captive. And as for the men who shouted out, “Away with Him, crucify Him,” they have long since gone to their account, and the cause they tried to destroy is still in existence.
II. Satan seeks to destroy God’s cause by stirring up persecution against His people. We may consider this subject from a three-fold point of view—(1) the persecution under the Jewish Church; (2) the persecution under the pagan power; (3) the persecution under the papal power.
(1) The persecution under the Jewish Church. The hatred of the Jews to Christ was extended to His followers. He warned them that they were going forth as sheep among wolves. The wolf, if it could speak, even though it could reason, could give no intelligible excuse for the desire it had to destroy the sheep whenever it saw it, except that it was its very nature to do so. And when one considers the intensity of the hatred stirred up against the infant Christian Church, no natural explanation can account for its continued existence. At the time of Stephen’s martyrdom we are told that “there was a great persecution against the Church which was at Jerusalem, and they were all scattered abroad throughout the regions of Judæa and Samaria, except the Apostles” (Acts viii. 1). Satan, in kindling the fires of persecution to a fiercer glow, did not reckon on that scattering abroad of Christians in the regions of Judæa and Samaria. How fiercely these fires burned, and how persistent were the efforts put forth by the persecutors are clearly indicated by the words—“And Saul, yet breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord, went unto the high priest” (Acts ix. 1), and again—“I persecuted this way,” says Paul “unto the death, binding and delivering into prisons both men and women” (Acts xxii. 4). But the blood of the martyrs became the seed of the Church, and who knows but as Saul stood by Stephen consenting unto his death as he witnessed the beautiful heavenly composure of the martyr as he passed through the cruel ordeal, that thoughts were awakened that day that were not easily silenced. The attempt to destroy the cause of God by the Jews utterly failed, and the more the church was persecuted, the more it grew.
(2) Persecution under the pagan power. Satan now enlisted the strong arm of the civil power to crush the cause of the Most High. We do not wish to harrow the feelings of our readers here with a description of the means adopted during the Neronian, Decian, and Diocletian persecutions, but the bare mention of these is enough to chill one’s blood. But no tortures that racked the body or fiery ordeals through which gentle women and heroic men passed could stay the onward progress of the heavenly cause. Men chose to be torn by wild beasts in the Roman amphitheatres and cast into caldrons of boiling oil rather than renounce the Lord who redeemed them. Satan had not reckoned on the divine strength vouchsafed to the martyrs in the day of trial, and here again the blood of the martyrs became the seed of the Church, and Satan was utterly baffled to destroy it.
(3) Persecution under the papal power. Satan having failed to accomplish his purpose through the Jewish Church and the pagan power, now had recourse to the so-called Christian Church as represented in the Church of Rome. This enlisting of a powerful so-called Christian institution on his side was a master-stroke of the enemy, and right skilfully did he make use of it. The diabolic ingenuity evidenced in the methods and means of torture were of such a nature that were it announced that men and women could face them without renouncing their faith, one would unhesitatingly say it is impossible, that is, if one overlooked the promise—”My grace is sufficient for thee and my grace is made perfect in weakness.” The dark dungeons that witnessed the lingering deaths of saintly men and women and the walls that heard the groans of heroic men as their limbs were racked, but heard no word of renunciation of their faith could they but speak, would have a tale to tell that would appear almost incredible. The men who planned these tortures have long since passed to their account, and the power that authorised them, drunken with the blood of the saints, is doomed to drink the cup she filled to others. What was the crime of which these men and women were guilty? Loyalty to the truth as revealed in the Word of God, and loving devotion to the Lord who redeemed them were the crimes that awakened the hatred of Satan and moved the hearts of wicked men to stamp out, if it were possible, any signs of the true cause of God in the world. At times it looked like that the enemy was to prevail, but neither the terrors of the Inquisition, nor the extirpating wars against the Wal-
denses and the Huguenots nor the fires of Smithfield were successful, and the cause of God came through the fiery furnace, heated seven times, with a vigour after the terrible struggle that can only be accounted for on the supposition that One like unto the Son of Man was with it in the fiery furnace. When the French King threatened to wipe out the Huguenots, he was answered with the fearless and significant words of Beza—”Sire, the Church of Christ is an anvil that has broken many a hammer.”
But persecution was not the only means Satan used to destroy God’s cause in the world. Error cleverly disguised and plausibly presented was intended as a potent instrument for the destruction of Christ’s cause in the world. The Christian Church was not long in existence when Satan began to sow his tares. (1) Legalism, with its complete subversion of the ground on which a sinner’s hope rests for eternity was a cunningly-devised scheme, and it is significant that in his Epistles the Apostle Paul gives the clearest indication of the distress caused him by this false teaching, which was not a gospel at all. He suffered more from the Christian Judaizing teachers than from the adherents of the old faith, and while the doctrines of grace presented an insuperable barrier to the advance of legalism, the enemy, by a cleverly-executed move, swept the great bulk of the professing Christian world into line with this deeply laid plan. The basic doctrine of the Church of Rome is founded on this ruinous error, and thousands of Protestants are building upon this false foundation for eternity. For though at the Reformation the great truth of justification by faith was declared with no uncertain sound by the great Reformers, yet it was lost sight of in after days by many of those professing to be Protestants. But though Satan has deceived so many, he has not yet been able to stamp out God’s truth. (2) The attempt to destroy God’s cause by denying the true Deity of the Son of God was a blow struck not at the outworks of the Christian Church, but at its very heart. It looked like for a time that it was to be successful, and as Athanasius, the fearless defender of the faith, was banished, it seemed that the cause of God had fallen. But Athanasius was recalled, and the truth of God triumphed. Satan did not cease in his attempt to overthrow this great doctrine, and so down the ages the Church had to contend with Socianianism, Unitarianism, and Kenoticism. The latter theory is one of the most subtle of modern attacks on the true Deity of the Son of God, and it has been in-
voked as a foil against our Lord’s testimony to the Old Testament Scriptures. (3) The attack on the Scriptures in the name of learning has had an extraordinary vogue. It has entered into the high places of theological learning, and has been warmly welcomed there. Young candidates for the holy ministry have imbibed this deadly poison at the hands of their teachers, and have in turn become disseminators of the same. But, however long the tide may take in turning, the ebb will come by and bye.
If time permitted reference might be made to Evolutionism, Spiritism, Communism, Christian Science, Russellism, Seventh Day Adventism, and other members of that numerous brood hatched by Satan, but they are all destined to fail in the end.
III. Satan attempts to destroy God’s cause by introducing worldliness into the Church. With apparent diffidence he suggests that the rules and laws of the Church are too strict—that a little yielding on the part of the Church will work to its advantage. And if this subtle suggestion is given heed to it is followed up by others in which the interests of the young figure prominently. The young, he suggests, must be kept in hand at all costs, and the best way of doing so is by introducing into the services of the sanctuary and the management of the Church as much of the world as possible. New generations need new methods, it is suggested, and the old paths by which the saints of God went on their way to their everlasting rest are said now to be out of date, and unless we have a religion that suits the men and women of the world, it will not do. If it is suggested in opposition that the way of worshiping God is not left to man, but set before us in His Word, then we are met with the subtle and deluding question—”What harm can there be in this?” Anything that wars against the spirituality of the worship of God and that deadens the spiritual life of God’s professing people ought to be shunned by them as the plague. That a determined effort is made to destroy the cause of God by infecting it with a deadly worldly spirit is plainly manifest to all who love Sion. But even this device of the enemy will be frustrated, and the attempt to smother the cause of Truth by a worldly spirit will be overthrown by Him who promised that the gates of hell would not prevail against His Church.
The Church of Christ exists in a hostile world. It is attacked on every side, but however diverse the mode of attacks, there is behind them all a governing mind, and however unrelated the opposing agencies may ap-
pear, there is no getting away from the fact that there is a co-ordination that indicates all too plainly that they are not isolated agencies working without any objective, but are all definitely shaping towards one goal—the overthrow of the cause of God in the world, and as the believer scans the field of battle his heart would fail him if he had no help but in man—his sure and all-sufficient help is in the name of the Lord.
The Suffering Saviour.
BY THE REV. JOHN MACDONALD, CALCUTTA.
I.
“Great is the mystery of godliness: God was manifest in the flesh.”—I. Tim. iii. 16.
THERE was darkness over the green plains of Judea, whilst some shepherds of Bethlehem there watched their slumbering flocks. Of a sudden, radiant and reviving beams of light travelled from heaven, and chased away the gloom of darkness; the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them. The presence of the bright spirit troubled their simple minds, but his words were words of kindness and gladness—“Fear not,” said he, “for I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.” He announced the birth of a Babe in the neighbouring town of Bethlehem, whom he called a “Saviour,” and “Christ,” and “the Lord,” and forthwith the heavenly host that surrounded Him, together raised a song, the like whereof had never yet entered the heart of man:—“Glory to God in the highest peace on earth, good will to the children of men.”
The song had ceased. The darkness and silence of night returned; but the shepherds hastened to Bethlehem. “Come,” said they, one to another, “let us now go even to Bethlehem, and see this great thing which has come to pass.” Arrived, they entered a lowly stable in the place, and find the subject of the angels’ song—an infant in a manger! and over it leaned she who was the “highly favoured among women,” its virgin mother. No purple nor fine linen were the Infant’s raiment; it was meanly wrapped in such swaddling clothes as poor parents could procure in a strange place. On the humble Babe the shepherds fixed their earnest gaze. Their hearts were full; and, as “out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh,” so they went away
wondering and rejoicing, and “made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child.”
More distant, more exalted visitors, called from their home by some bright “Star in the East,” next entered that lowly place the shepherds had but lately left. Their errand was the same—to see Him that was born “King of the Jews;” but more, for, as Gentiles, they came to do Him homage. They counted not on their wisdom, age, or rank, but fell down and worshipped Him, “who liveth for ever and ever,” being taught by God to look through the veil of human flesh that shrouded the Lord of Glory.
They opened their treasures, and
“There did they yield Him, in costly devotion,
Odours of Edom and offerings divine,
Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine.”
Again, soon after, another band of men, but oh, how different! were seen approaching Bethlehem. Every sweet babe these men can find in mothers’ arms, or at rest in smiling slumber, they seize and barbarously murder; they leave not alive one child of two years old and under, in all the country round. And was the little Babe of the manger there? No, He was in the far distant land of Egypt; thither has His parents fled with Him, and there they remained until the cruel Herod, that sought his life, was no more. . . .
A few years pass, and we find in the Temple of Jerusalem a Child disputing with the learned doctors and scribes, until they are filled with amazement at His knowledge of the Holy Scriptures. His mother enters, seeking Him; and He, who is the wonder of the learned rabbins, goes home submissively with her, and answers to her rebuke, “Wist ye not that I must be about my Father’s business?” And who is this Father, whose business is to be found in the Bible, and in the holy temple? Can you, my dear reader, from experience tell me?
In the spirit and power of Elijah, and in the rough and homely garb of an ancient prophet of Israel, such as had not been seen for hundreds of years, who is this that cometh from the wilderness—so rugged in his apparel—so mighty in His words? The Prophet of the Highest, that prepareth the way of the Lord, that saith unto the cities of Judah, “Behold your God.” Hear the Baptist preach in the midst of the thousands that surround him, “Repent, repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand;” and them that repent he baptises.
But, behold! He that was the Divine Babe in the manger, and the Child of Wisdom in the temple, approaches. John points to Him, and saith to the multitude, “His shoe’s latchet I am not worthy to unloose.” And to Himself the Baptist says, “I have need to be baptized by Thee, and comest Thou to me?” However, after some persuasion, the Baptist suffers it to be so, and bathes the sacred person of his Lord in the waters of the Jordan. Forthwith a door is opened in heaven, and a glorious Being in the form of a dove is seen descending on that honoured head, whilst a voice comes forth from the excellent glory in the words, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” And what Father is that, whose voice could issue from glory? It was the Eternal God Himself—it was His Spirit who descended; and this beloved Son was Jesus Christ—and these Three the one God, equal in power and glory. O my dear young friends! how could we believe that so glorious a scene as this had ever been upon our sinful earth, if we knew it not on the word of God Himself. Believe in the Name of that well-beloved Son, and you shall yet be with this glorious Three; you shall be where they are; you shall be in them and they in you; and then shall you know and be swallowed up in these things, though now you cannot understand them (John xvii. 20-24).
And whither did Jesus next direct His steps? Was it back to the peaceful home of Joseph and Mary? Ah, no; He was now to be a “Man of Sorrows and acquainted with grief,” and grief of every kind—tempted by the devil, persecuted by man, “bruised and put to grief” by His Heavenly Father for imputed sin (Isaiah liii.). Mark the commencement of this work. The Lamb of God, “bearing the sin of the world” (John i.), enters the wilderness; and meditating, perhaps with his whole soul, on that redemption which He was about to work out, and which you, poor, careless sinner, despise, little knowing what awaits you. He wanders alone, day and night, for six weeks, amongst ravenous beasts, without one morsel of food. Whilst worn out with fatigue, hunger, and thirst, Satan, the great enemy of heaven and earth, comes near to Him, and harasses Him with unholy temptations. Oh how painful it is for a holy being to be in the sight of such an abominable, filthy demon! much more to hear his impure conversation, and much more still to be assailed by his blasphemous temptations. This is often the bitterest misery of God’s own people, who are yet but imperfectly holy; how vastly more so to the spotless Lamb of God! If, however, you still love sin, you will see very
little pain in the temptations of Jesus; and for this reason, like the Jews of old, you love your father the devil (John viii. 44), and would therefore think it far greater misery to pine for hunger and thirst during forty days and forty nights, than to be tempted to disbelieve and disobey God, who is not your Father. But Jesus was victorious over the Prince of Hell and the “god of this world,” and thus was qualified to become “a merciful and faithful High Priest in things pertaining to God—for in that He Himself hath suffered, being tempted, He is able to succour them that are tempted.” (Heb. ii.).
In this was pain; yet it came from him, from whom it might be expected. But how was He received by them whom He came to save? He enters upon His public ministry, and for the space of three years seeks no rest for the “sole of His foot,” but “went about continually doing good.” He heals their sick, cures their lame, gives sight to their blind, hearing to their deaf, raises their dead, cleanses their lepers, travels from city to city, from village to village, preaching the Gospel of Salvation through His own blood to perishing thousands; sits, from morning to night, in the temple or in the desert, teaching the way of life eternal, and from night to morning watches amongst the mountains unto meditation and prayer; hungry, thirsty, and exhausted with fatigue, without a resting-place for His head, or a home to shelter Him, He seems to think nothing too much for our salvation. And how did men receive Him, or reward Him for all this?
They seek to murder Him, by casting Him over a precipice—they take up stones to stone Him—they persecute Him from their coasts—they hold council after council to put Him to death, yet cannot find a cause—they pursue Him as a madman, a glutton, a drunkard, a blasphemer, an associate of devils, nay, a very devil himself! Yet none of these can they prove Him to be. Thus was fulfilled the prophecy—”He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and we hid as it were our faces from Him; He was despised, and we esteemed Him not” (Isaiah liii.). And thus did He willingly, during His life, endure those sufferings which are a part of the curse of sin—sufferings that were completed by His death—and sufferings which had this for their end, that a redemption might be wrought out, through faith in which guilty rebels, as you and I, might be freely pardoned, and have the favour and image and everlasting enjoyment of God restored to our ruined souls.
The Bankruptcy of Evolution.*
AT first sight the above title may appear somewhat strange, in view of the fact that at present alike in the theological, scientific and philosophical world, many of those in the front ranks have definitely declared for Evolution. But we are sure that the reader, after a perusal of Dr Morton’s excellent book, will readily grant that he has proved his case. In sending forth his book he had a praiseworthy end in view, as expressed in his words:—”My supreme aim is to remove the stumbling block, and make it easier for the men and women of this generation to accept the Bible unhesitatingly as the Word of God.”
Dr Morton has truly said that while Evolutionism is faulty as a philosophy, it has had a tremendous influence on philosophical, religious, and scientific thought, and that the goal to which this influence invariably has been tending is Skepticism. It was accepted by Wellhausen, and influenced his exposition of Biblical history, and may thus be said to have given an impetus to the destructive criticism of the Bible which has had such disastrous results. It is given an unquestioned place in a multitude of learned and popular books issued from the press. From University chairs and in colleges the theory is taught as one of the most assured facts in the realm of human knowledge. The errant brain of Nietzsche was led captive by it, and under its spell he taught the devilish principles set forth in his “Will to Power,” which in turn captivated the minds of the great War Lords of Germany and thousands of others who, under the intoxicating influence of this mad philosopher’s teaching, deluded the world with blood. Nietzsche’s philosophy was, if ever there was, a “procureess to the lords of hell.” But it has not only proved disastrous in the field of religion and practical politics, it is proving ruinous in other directions in undermining belief in the Almighty Creator of heaven and earth. It is well we should lay to heart that in Evolutionism we are confronted with one of the most powerful enemies of modern times to the Bible and its teaching. Not only have we the evolutionary ideas spread broadcast in scientific works which may be read only by the few, but such men as Prof. Arthur Thomson, Aberdeen, a scientist gifted with powers of popular exposition
* The Bankruptcy of Evolution, by the Rev. Harold C. Morton, M.A., Ph.D. London: Marshall Brothers, Limited. Price 3s 6d net.
granted to few, and H. G. Wells, whose erratic imagination has cast its spell over thousands of minds, are out and out evolutionists. But a no less serious aspect of the matter is that this unproved theory is being taught in books that have an extraordinary circulation among the children of the English-speaking countries. In the “Children’s Encyclopædia,” edited by Mr Arthur Mee, one of the most fascinating books ever written for children, Evolution is undisguisedly taught. It is also to be said of this Editor’s other serial publications—”My Magazine” and the “Children’s Newspaper,” while enjoying an extraordinary degree of popularity among young people, and instructive to a high degree, that this theory is acknowledged, though perhaps not quite so openly. No doubt Mr Mee would object to be called an agnostic Evolutionist, but even so-called theistic Evolution does not make for the acceptance of the doctrine of Creation as set forth in the Bible.
Dr Morton’s book shows conclusively on the authority of leading scientists that Darwinism, which was received with such a flourish of trumpets at its birth, is dead, and that the evolutionary theory now taught as the last word of science has been forced to shift its ground with new discoveries. The same idea is brought out in Prof. MacCready Price’s “Q. E. D., or New Light on the Doctrine of Creation.” In after ages we make bold to say that it will be considered one of the most extraordinary freaks of the scientific mind that it was deluded by a theory that had so little real ground to stand on. Here was Darwin, a man endowed by his Creator with the most extraordinary powers of observation, but who used them in seeking to banish God from His universe, and men who did not believe in this God and men who professed to believe in Him, joined hand-in-hand in heaping honours upon Charles Darwin.
We have read Dr Morton’s book with unfeigned pleasure, and heartily recommend it to teachers, students, and pupils in our Higher Grade Schools. We are pleased to note that Dr Morton recommends another very useful book on the same subject, “Evolution Criticised,” by T. B. Bishop (Oliphants, Ltd.), in which the reader is supplied with criticisms from eminent men of science; it is “packed with information,” as Dr Morton rightly says. It was a forcible but a true criticism made by Dr Hutchison Stirling on Darwin’s masterpiece—”The Origin of Species”—that there was a lie in the title, as Darwin’s book did not explain the origin of species.
Mrs Elizabeth Fraser (Ealasaid Ruadh), Stratherrick: A Noted Christian of Other Days.
THOUGH reckoned as one of the most outstanding Christians of her time, the name of Mrs Fraser (or, as she was better known, “Ealasaid Ruadh”), is quite unknown to but a few of our readers. The late Rev. Alexander Cook, Stratherrick, wrote a brief account of her extraordinary experiences, from which we intend giving a few quotations, so that our readers may have some idea of the extraordinary experiences through which Mrs Fraser passed.
She was born “in the most remote and hilly part of Stratherrick,” about 1790. Her father was an army pensioner, and her mother, according to Mr Cook, “claimed near kindred to an eminent minister of the Scottish Church, who, at the close of the century, published a profound theological work.*”
Though there were teachers and catechists and a few other Christians in her native place, the leavening influence of the Gospel had not reached Stratherrick in Elizabeth’s infancy and early days. Mr Cook refers to a devoted teacher, Macgregor by name, whose labours were blessed and who was successful in putting a stop to the unseemly custom of dancing at “wakes.” “Macgregor,” says Mr Cook, “succeeded in abolishing the horrid practice of dancing at ‘wakes,’ at which the widow, or the nearest relation of the deceased, was expected to lead the first reel.”
After her conversion, Elizabeth used often to travel all the way from Stratherrick to Redcastle, or Ferintosh, to hear the Rev. John Kennedy, or the Rev. Dr Macdonald. She was a very bright, lively Christian, and the effervescing exuberance of her spirit was to be disciplined and trained by her infinitely wise Master as the following incident indicates. She had gone to a Communion at Ferintosh, and having noticed an aspect of peculiar severity on the countenance of Dr Angus Mackintosh, Tain, who was to preach the Action Sermon, she said on meeting Mr (he was not Dr then) Macdonald: “O! Mr Macdonald, you are to set Dr
* This is in all likelihood Rev. Alexander Fraser, D.D., Kirkhill, whose works “A Key to the Prophecies” and “Commentary on the Prophecy of Isaiah,” were published in 1795 and 1800 respectively.
Mackintosh to preach to us, and there is not one of us but he will kill with the law!” It was a foolish remark, and such as would naturally come from a young woman whose feelings were not always under the control of her judgment. Mr Macdonald, in a kindly manner, pointed out that she might yet get plenty of the law, but that it would be neither at Ferintosh nor from Dr Mackintosh, but from a personal experience. The minister’s words were soon fulfilled, for she fell into dismal depths of despondency and gloom. The occasion of this may be given in Mr Cook’s words:—”This trial, though obscure in its course, seems to have been encouragement on her part of certain attentions, in the way of courtship, from some young men; and while there was no approach on her part to anything criminal, there appears to have been a want of that gravity, watchfulness, and self-denial, which a young Christian female of handsome exterior would peculiarly require. Of a sudden she was induced to marry, contrary to the advice of friends, and the object of her choice appears not to have been worthy of her. In a very few weeks after her marriage this distress came on, resulting ultimately in a state of mind bordering on despair.” She was visited in her distress by her beloved and valuable friend, Mr Finlay Munro, whose labours God so signally owned in the Highlands, but she would not utter a word to him, or even give him her hand. She continued two years in the grip of Giant Despair, but when she and others thought all was gone forever, the words came for her deliverance:—”I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord. The Lord has chastened me sore, but He hath not given me over unto death” (Ps. cxviii. 7). This was the first streak of heaven’s light piercing the Egyptian gloom and darkness. Soon after this signal deliverance she dreamt about a minister whom she held in high esteem, but who had been removed to his everlasting rest during her distress. She thought she saw him in the pulpit singing praise. After a long time, she asked, with surprise—”Are you not to begin the sermon?” “Oh,” he said, “there is nothing here but praise.” This mental glimpse of heaven, says Mr Cook, though in a dream, tended further to loose her bonds. The full tide of everlasting consolation began to flow into her weary soul, and the brackish waters of seemingly settled melancholy ebbed quickly away. If her distress was profound, her consolation now was of no ordinary kind.
Before closing this brief sketch, reference must be made to another and severer trial through which she
passed. She had been invited to a wedding, and as was often the case in those days, there was a great deal of drinking and bad language used, which Elizabeth failed to reprove. When the hour for family worship came, it was set aside owing to the drunken state of the company. Elizabeth spent the day with the company, but before she left, the words of the Apostle fell on her startled conscience—”It is impossible for those who were once enlightened and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Ghost, and have tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come, if they shall fall away to renew them again to repentance” (Hebs. vi. 4-6).
We leave Mr Cook to describe the fearful despondency into which she fell:—
“The slip,” he says, “was slight, being no more than an unusual compliance by a godly person with the course of the world; but at such a precipice, the fall proved tremendous. Elizabeth came home in a confused, desponding state, in which she continued for some days; endeavouring, but in vain, to sustain her failing hope by the promises of Scripture she used to find comfort in. Perhaps she was not precisely aware of the cause of the Lord’s controversy with her; at all events, she did not confess it to others till some weeks after her trouble was at its height. The slip was outwardly so slight, as often happens in the falls of the Lord’s children, that conscience, for a time, might not be enlightened enough to perceive it—nay, would be disabled from doing so by the darkness and confusion arising from guilt. And here the ever-watchful enemy found his advantage, in preventing ingenuous confession, which might, at the throne of grace, be so soon followed by pardon and healing (Psalm xxxii. 3-5). Her Christian friends also were at a loss to discover the occasion of her temptation, or the proper mode of dealing with her; her connection with the wedding having passed with little notice. To one of those conversing with her, who referred to the Saviour’s character—”He’s my Beloved still,” she sweetly said, “although forsaking me.” At the same private interview, being prevailed on to engage in prayer, in asking a blessing on food, she prayed with the unction, richness, and humble reverence characteristic of an experienced Christian, but in a tone of deep sadness. Soon, however, the temptation gathered strength, till her mind was filled and absorbed with terrors: her moans and cries resounded for days and nights continuously, “Oh, what shall I do! Oh! oh! oh!” To friends,
urging on her notice, the merit and power of the Saviour, she replied with the terrible arguments common to all such tempted souls. who think they have committed the unpardonable sin—”Ah, but He is not wont to save those in my condition!”
But a lower depth still was before her, ere it pleased the Lord to “send from above and draw from the mighty waters” this poor, erring disciple. It must have been an extraordinary strength of grace vouchsafed to “Heman the Ezrahite” (Psalm lxxxviii.), and doubtless to many believers since, after that pattern in holy writ—which enabled him to maintain patience and resignation in that dreadful, long-continued furnace, so that he continued to cleave by appropriating faith to him as his God, whose “wrath lay hard upon him, and who afflicted him with all his waves.” It must have been an extraordinary measure of the Spirit of Christ, which brought a sinner to such near conformity to the Great Sinless Sufferer. To these blessed attainments poor Elizabeth did not reach, and, accordingly, when “the arrows of the Almighty” were felt within her, and the Tempter was permitted utterly to raze the foundations of her hopes, then the corruption of nature—”the carnal mind which is enmity against God”—broke fearfully out. Oh! what a heart has man, when the great deep of its corruption is broken up, even in those who have the “new creature in Christ Jesus” formed and developed in them.
It was certainly an extraordinary and perplexing triumph of the enemy, we were now called to witness, to hear the language of desperation and rebellion—the very language of hell—from one who had given ample evidence for perhaps forty years of being a true fearer of the Lord. It loosened, I confess, my own sentiment of affection for her as one of the household of faith: I began to question whether the case might not be one of real apostacy. Nor was the painful severance of affection entirely healed until her happy deliverance; when it became evident that though “sifted,” her faith through the prevailing intercession, had still, as to its root in the soul, not failed. On the other hand, it might be a relief at times to consider it a case of insanity or monomania; but this so far as involving non-responsibility (the only view in which the supposition was of any value), was scarcely tenable when we considered the strength of reason and intelligence which appeared throughout. She knew and could name every visitor, conversed on some few occasions on the cause of her trouble, which she declared to be as I have stated
above, and manifested the full possession—overborne by mental agony—of any faculties called into exercise. We were thus compelled to regard the case as one of Temptation, only rendered more extraordinary and appalling from being made visible by its violence, instead of being, as is usually in mercy provided, locked up in the breast of the poor sufferer.
For more than eight weeks did the dreadful furnace continue, during which time she scarcely tasted any food, or anything but water. The affectionate solicitude of neighbours and Christian friends was severely tried, but happily maintained, arrangements being made for watching in turn beside her all that time. One excellent person, who had herself known the deep waters of despair, took the principal management as a nurse; “a dreadful post of observation,” but although “darker every hour,” it was nobly sustained.”
At length deliverance came. It was the Monday of the Stratherrick Communion. Elizabeth’s attendant, leaving her in charge of another, had gone out to the services. When she left her in the morning she was still in the hands of Giant Despair, but when she returned, she noticed a remarkable change had taken place. Elizabeth was heard repeating to herself the words—”The voice of my Beloved! behold He cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills!” She was visited in the evening by two ministers, who found her acknowledging God’s goodness and the preciousness of Christ’s blood. She joined with them in singing—
“Those that are broken in their heart,
And grieved in their minds,
He healeth, and their painful wounds
He tenderly upbinds.”
This was the last of Elizabeth’s “fiery trials.” “Much has the enemy tried you,” said her faithful attendant to her one day. “Oh! it is nothing,” she replied, “compared with the exceeding weight of glory it works out.” “It will make the crown all the brighter,” said the other. “Yes! and the melody all the sweeter,” was Elizabeth’s reply.
Elizabeth was now nearing her happy home. The terrible struggle of the last two months had shattered her frame. She lingered for six days after her deliverance, and on Sabbath morning, the 16th March 1856, she passed into a world that knows no storms, for “He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad, because they be
quiet so He bringeth them into their desired haven” (Ps. cvii. 29, 30). We cannot do better in concluding this brief sketch of this storm-tossed sojourner to Sion than use the exhortation of the Psalmist couched in words of heavenly beauty:—
O that men to the Lord would give
Praise for His goodness then,
And for His works of wonder done
Unto the sons of men !
Among the people gatheréd
Let them exalt His name
Among assembled elders spread
His most renowned fame.
(Metrical Psalm cvii. 31, 32.)
The Late Mr Norman MacCallum, Elder, Kames.
NORMAN MACCALLUM was born at Millhouse, Cowal, Argyllshire, on the 14th day of May 1831. His father, Hugh Maccallum, had a large family of six sons and three daughters; Norman was the second son. The only one of the family still spared is a daughter, who lives at Manchester, and is eighty-four years. Hugh Maccallum was a blacksmith to trade. He trained the most of his sons in his own smithy, and the subject of this brief obituary, having learned his father’s trade, remained at home with him. Norman Maccallum lived like his neighbours till he was about thirty years of age. In the year 1859, the late Mr Archibald Crawford, who became the Lord’s messenger to many in Cowal, began to hold public services in the church at Millhouse. These services were begun by two young men of the Baptist Church, who, holding Arminian views, taught the people that they had the power to believe in Christ as well as they had to believe in any facts of history. This was only historical faith, which caused two or three thoughtful men to visit Mr Archibald Crawford at his own house one night, to whom they said—”If this is saving faith, the doctrines we have been accustomed to are soul-ruining, and we have called to get your opinion about this serious matter.” Mr Crawford explained to the men the scriptural doctrine of justification by faith without any works of man, and proved to them that the faith
these men preached was nothing else but man’s work. When they were leaving that night, they asked if he would give them further explanation should they come back next night. To this proposal he agreed. They came, and after he instructed them further as to the nature of saving faith, they told him that there were a few other men who wished to hear from him on this important matter, and asked whether he would go the next night to the house of one of them, where he could meet these men. To this he agreed on condition that they would not tell any other except those that he was to be there. They agreed to do this. But when he arrived at the house it was full of people, and a large number were standing outside who could not be accommodated inside. He called the men out, and remonstrated with them as to the breach of their promise to him. They answered that they were telling the people whom they met with on the roads the views he had told them of saving faith, and that, when the people opposed these views, they asked to come that night to hear for themselves. Mr Crawford, showing unwillingness to proceed, one of the men said to him—”The everlasting concerns of these immortal souls demand of you that you should instruct them in this important matter.” Mr Crawford said—”But the house will not hold them.” The man answered—”The church is at hand, so let us go there.” This was done, and Mr Crawford’s meetings continued to be held in that church for more than three years. Thus began public services, guided as we have shown, by the secret will of God, which resulted in the conversion of many a poor sinner in that district of Cowal. The writer knew several of them in 1891 and since who adorned their profession by a life becoming godliness to the end of their days, and of whom a few, very few now, are yet in this world of sorrow and sighing. Norman MacCallum was one of those who passed from death unto life at that time.
The view he got of himself as a sinner before God was both real and deep. He told the writer one night in his own hospitable house at Kames, where he lived since 1905 till the end came—”I was sure that my sins were so great and so aggravated that they could not be forgiven, so I came to the awful conclusion that whoever would have forgiveness, it was impossible so far as I was concerned.” In this despairing state of mind, he went to hear Mr Crawford, who spoke from the words—”Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth; for I am God, and there is none else”
(Is. xlv. 22). The speaker said, among other things,—”This means that while the truth of the natural life is in thy nostrils, thou art commanded to look to Jesus Christ for salvation.” Norman said—”When I heard these words, I felt that there was yet mercy for me in God, and the terrible darkness of my mind was so far removed. On the following Lord’s Day, I went to the Castle (a place-name in the district) in order that I might spend a part of the day there in secret prayer, and while I was upon my knees pleading with the Lord, that passage of God’s word came to my mind with great light, power, warmth, and comfort—”My Beloved is mine, and I am His.” I felt as if I had the Lord Jesus in the arms of my soul as sure as Simeon had Him in his in the Temple at Jerusalem.” Thus the Lord loosed his bonds and did set him free. So great and lasting were the effects of that day’s experience that, at the end of fifty years, the impression made continued as a sheet anchor to his soul. Shortly after the above deliverance the Lord gave him he became a member in full communion with the Free Church in Millhouse congregation, and in the year 1867 he was duly elected to the eldership, which office he accepted.
In the year 1874, he got married to Miss Catherine Maccallum, a daughter of Mr Dugald Maccallum, a farmer in the district, who was also one of the spiritual children of Mr Crawford. The issue of the marriage were three sons and four daughters. All the sons died in infancy, but the daughters are still living. Norman and his wife were true helpmates, both as regards spiritual and temporal concerns. She predeceased him seven years, after they had lived 57 years together in happy fellowship.
The writer met Norman Maccallum in the spring of 1891 for the first time. At the urgent request of the elders and their minister, Rev. Mr Campbell, who had been an invalid during the previous seven years, he went to labour in the Millhouse congregation for six months. Norman was at that time a strong and robust man at his age. During a conversation we had with Mr Crawford at that time about the professing men and women in the congregation, he said—”I have the fullest confidence in Norman Maccallum as a single-minded and sincere Christian man.” This was exactly the impression he made on the writer’s mind then, and he never found any cause to change it to the last.
In the year 1893, the congregation of Millhouse separated from the then Free Church, on account of the
fact that a Declaratory Act was passed the previous year, and that she refused to retrace her wayward steps at her Assembly in 1893. None were more hearty in this separation than Norman; for he loved the orthodox creed and constitution of the Free Church more than to barter it away for keeping up a fellowship with a Church which held now quite another creed and constitution. Immediately this separation took place, the congregation were deprived of their two churches and their manse; but they took joyfully the spoiling of their goods, and built a church and manse at Kames. Although the most of the office-bearers were farmers and men of business, they were more intelligent than to estimate that the property they had lost was equal in value with the Creed and Principles which they kept. In this mind Norman Maccallum continued to the end.
While he was able to walk the distance, he was a most regular attendant on the means of grace, both on the Lord’s Day and the weekly prayer meeting. Indeed, the writer thought many times that, if he had not a real joy, like David of old, in going to the house of God, no one could have a better excuse than he for absenting himself. But as the saying is, “Where there is a will, there is a way,” he gave conclusive proof that one day in the Lord’s courts excelled a thousand days in the tents of sin in his estimation. He was going there not as an onlooker, but to worship God with all his heart. The writer was often struck with some of his remarks in public prayer. One of these was—”O Lord, keep us out of temptations, and keep us in the face of temptations, and keep us in temptations.” In these exercises he manifested how deeply he was conscious of the abominations of his own heart and mind, and of his absolute dependance upon the grace of God for deliverance from sin and all its consequences. The last time the writer went to see him, when he was going to read a chapter of God’s Word, he asked Norman to ask a blessing on the Word. He answered—”What is the use of asking me, for I cannot speak or think aright; that is my own opinion, and also that of others.” The writer said—”You begin, and the Lord can give you thoughts and words.” He then began to pray with choice words, light, and unction, and when he had finished, he said, with childlike simplicity, “Will that do?”
He was a man that never spoke much about himself, and he did not desire to be flattered by others. He used to say—”We will all be tested yet.” Another scripture which he often quoted is—”For he is not a
Jew, which is one outwardly; neither is that circumcision which is outward in the flesh; but he is a Jew, which is one inwardly, and circumcision is that of the heart, in the spirit, and not in the letter, whose praise is not of man, but of God.”
During the last year of his earthly pilgrimage his hearing, eyesight, and memory failed him much, and he seemed to take very little notice of the things of the world, but to the last his mind was quite clear and his memory as good as ever when he spoke of the doctrines, etc., of God’s Word. Whenever the name of Archibald Crawford was mentioned, the very expression of his countenance beamed with joy flowing from the real love of his heart towards him. They are now together on Mount Zion, being led by the Lamb into living fountains of water, and the Lord has wiped all tears from their eyes. There they will never have the painful thought of separating the one from the other, or from the Lord’s people in their Father’s house above, or from the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, for ever and ever.
Mrs Maccallum died in October 1917, and Norman Maccallum died on the 17th January 1925, at the age of 93 years. His mortal remains were laid to rest to await the second coming of his Lord to judge the quick and the dead on the last day. He will then stand in his place.
The writer desires to express his sincere sympathy with each member of the bereaved family, and also with all their relatives, and with the Kames congregation and their minister.
N. C.
The Late Mr Robert Reid, Elder, St Jude’s, Glasgow.
MR REID was born in the town of Ayr in the year 1839. His father was an uncompromising man in the things of God and His truth. He did his utmost to teach his family the duty of adhering consistently to the doctrines and principles of the Church of Christ. He did this both by precept and example. The writer learned this from Mr Reid, who admired his father to the last as a loving father and as a man of true piety and integrity.
Mr Robert Reid was a man of business. He had a large concern in the upholstery line in Edinburgh,
which caused him to take up his abode in London during several years. While he was in London he attended regularly on the ministrations of the late Mr Spurgeon. His admiration for Mr Spurgeon as a preacher of the gospel of the grace of God was very profound. None could be in his company for any length of time without being impressed with this.
The first time the writer met him was about twenty years ago. The occasion of his call at that time was to ascertain why the Free Presbyterian Church had not agreed to unite with the present Free Church. After a long conversation as to the reasons why, he left convinced that there were real reasons of maintaining separation until outstanding differences should be removed. But he was confident that the Free Church, at the Assembly following, would take steps to have them removed. The writer never heard how his report was received by the Free Church, but nothing was done. The conviction he left on the writer’s mind was that he was a very intelligent and upright man, and that he was whole-hearted in his desire for union on an equitable basis.
Sixteen years after the above meeting, he called on the writer, and told him that, on account of the countenance the Free Church gave to men and Churches who hold unsound views of the inspiration and infallibility of the Bible, he brought forward a motion at the Assembly to put a stop to this evil tendency, and that he got very little support or encouragement. He appealed then to the meeting of Commission in August, but when he arrived in Edinburgh to prosecute his appeal, he was told that the meeting could not be held because there was not a quorum present to constitute the Commission. He asked the writer whether he could be received by the Kirk-Session of St Jude’s as a member in full communion with the Free Presbyterian Church. He was told that he would certainly be received, seeing he was fully justified in separating from the Church in which he had been for so many years, on account of the vital principles for which he was doing so. But he was told that, so as to maintain Presbyterian order, he should ask his disjunction certificate of membership from his minister. He did so, but it was refused, to the great surprise of the writer. He came up to the following communion in St Jude’s, when the Kirk-Session had no difficulty in receiving him. Before he left for his home at Killellan, Campbeltown, where he lived on his own estate, he expressed the very great satisfaction he felt
in his conscience that he was now a member of a Church against which no charge could be brought as to her adherence to the Bible in its entirety as the infallible Word of God. He attended regularly at each Communion season, and by his prayers at prayer meetings held on these occasions, he impressed our members in such a way that when we had an election of office-bearers two years ago, he was elected for the eldership.
The writer wrote him to this effect. He replied that he would consider it the greatest honour conferred on him in his life-time to become an elder in St Jude’s, and that he accepted the office. When he came up to be inducted, the writer gave him the Deed of Separation to read, and told him that he would be asked a question on the morrow as to whether he approved of it. He read it carefully, and then said—”I confess that had I considered as seriously as I should have done the condition of the Free Church in 1893, I would have been one of the first to break off from her communion, and to join in holding the doctrines and principles set forth in this ‘Deed of Separation.'” On the morrow (the Lord’s Day), when the question was put—”Do you approve of the Deed of Separation?” he answered—”Yes, I do now with all my heart.” When he was up at our communion services last November, his general health was very good for a man of his advanced age. No one thought then that that was to be his last appearance in St Jude’s, but it took place according to God’s Word—”As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.”
On the 9th day of March he departed this life, after a few days’ illness. The writer learned at his funeral, which took place on the 11th to the family’s burying-place in Ayr Cemetery, that he had been up either at Glasgow or Edinburgh the week before the above dates, and that after returning home he became sick. The sickness took the form of pneumonia, to which he succumbed on the above date. He was 86 years of age.
It is now a comforting thought to us all that he manifested such faithfulness to the maintenance of the integrity of God’s Word at the end of his earthly pilgrimage, and that he adhered to its absolute infallibility and inerrancy even to the painful step of separating from the Church with which he had been identified during so many years. This proves that he valued the Bible
more than any Church, and that he firmly believed that in it are the words of eternal life contained. To a man of his intelligence and integrity the effects of holding rationalistic views of the Bible are so manifest in the world at present as to demand compliance with the command—”Come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord.”
The writer desires to express his deepest sympathy with his family and relatives. “The righteous hath hope in his death.” N. C.
The Late Mrs Macpherson, Portree.
IT is with sorrow we announce the death of the above worthy member of Portree congregation. At the advanced age of 78, Mrs Macpherson went to Canada, to reside with one of her family, but missed the means of grace so much prized by her in Skye, and therefore she returned to this country last summer, after being about two years abroad.
She was a most loyal Free Presbyterian, and greatly interested in the progress of the Church at home and elsewhere. In proportion to her means few were more liberal to the Church funds. This was mentioned to her when near the end, but she remarked that liberality could do nothing for her, and then said, quoting the Psalmist, “Whom have I in the heavens but Thee, and whom in earth do I desire beside Thee!”
These were her last words, and shortly afterwards she departed, we believe, to her eternal rest. She took ill about the beginning of February and passed away on the 16th of March. We would express our deepest sympathy with her family in their great loss.
D. M. M.
While I was afflicted with the fears of my own damnation there were two things would make me wonder. One was, when I saw old people hunting after the things of this life as if they should live here always; the other was, when I found professors much distressed and cast down when they met with outward losses. Lord, thought I, what ado is here about such little things as these!—John Bunyan.
Searmoinean leis an Urramach Elongbas MacMhaolain.
Searmoiu X.
xc. Sailm, 11 Rann.
“ Co d’ an aithne neart t-fheirge, agus a reir t-eagail
do choruich.”
(Air a leantuin o t.-d. 470.)
Tha na Sailm anns a choitchionn, air an gairm
“ Sailm Dhaibhidh,” gidheadh, cha robh an t-iomlan
diubh air an sgriobhadh le Dáibhidh; oir tha e soilleir gu
robh aireamh bheag dhiubh air an sgriobhadh le daoinibh
naomh eile, agus ‘s ann do ‘n aireamh so, an t-Sailm o’m
bheil briathraibh ar teagaig. Ann an roimh-radh an
Sailm so, tha i air a gairm “ ùrnuigh le Maois, oglach
Dhé,” agus tha e ro chosmhuil gu robh i air a sgriobhadh
le Maois, an deigh dha mòran do ‘n t-slugh a thainig a
mach maille ris a tir na h-Eiphit, fhaicinn air an sgrios le
ceart-bhreitheanas Dé anns an fhàsach. Bha Maois na
dhuine a chunnaic mòran do nithe iongantach air an dean-
amh le Dia, anns an Eiphit, aig’ an fhairge ruaidh, agus
anns an fhàsach; ach bha chuid a bu mho do na h-oibre
miortbuileach a chunnaic Maois, do nadur millteach agus
eagalach, ‘nan oibre a bha taisbeanadh corruich Dhé an
aghaidh ceannaire, agus aindiadhaichd dhaoinne. ‘S ann
do ‘n t-seorsa so a bha na plaighean leis an robh na
h-Eiphitich air an claoich, agus ‘s ann do ‘n nadur cheudna
bha na breitheanais leis an robh mòran do chloinn Israeil,
a ris, agus a ris, air an sgrios anns an fhàsach. Tha e
soilleir, gu robh na breitheanais so ann an sealladh Mhaois,
agus air a spiorad, an uair a sgriobh e ‘n t-Sailm so. Aig
an t-seachdamh rann, tha e gearan gu robh an slugh air
an caitheadh le feirg, agus air an claoich le corruich an
Uile-chumhachdaich;—aig an naothamh rann, a deir e,
“ Tha ar laithean air teireachduinn ann a t-fheirg,—
chaitheann ar bliadhnaich mar sgeul a dh’ innseadh;”
ann am briathraibh ar teagaig, tha e, mar gu ‘m b’ ann,
le h-osna ghoirt a cur na ceist so—“ Co d’ an aithne neart
t-fheirge, agus a reir t-eagail do choruich?” Thuig, agus
chreid Maois, o na nithibh a chunnaic e le shùilbh fein,
agus a dh’ fhoillsicheadh dha mar an ceudna leis an Spiorad
Naomha, gun deachaidh fearg Dhé an aghaidh a pheacaidh,
thar gach uil eòlas.
Ann an labhairt o na briathraibh so, bheir mi fa’ near,
I. Cuid do na doighibh anns am bheil Dia a foillseachadh a chorruich an aghaidh a pheacaidh.
II. Nach ‘eil creutair peacach sam bith comasach air seasamh an aghaidh corruich Dhé.
III. Gu bheil corruich Dhé na h-aobhar eagail ro mhór, do na h-uile dhaoinibh mar pheacaich.
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Ann an labhairt mu ‘n doigh anns am bheil Dia a foillseachadh a chorruich an aghaidh a pheacaich, bheir mi fa ‘near, anns a cheud àite, gu bheil corruich Dhé a sruthadh gu sonruichte o ‘n fhuath a ta aige do ‘n pheacadh, agus na dearbhadh air an fhuath so. Tha na sgiobtuirean a teagasg dhuinn gu soilleir, gu bheil fuath iomlan aig Dia do ‘n pheacadh; gu bheil am peacadh ‘na ni eho olc, cho graineil ann a shealladh, a ‘s nach fheadh e mhare air, no leagadh as air chor sam bith o pheanas. Cha ‘n ‘eil fuath aig Dia do ni sam bith anns a chruith-eachd ach am peacadh; cha ‘n ‘eil fuath aige do dhuine sam bith mar dhuine, no do chreutair, no do ni mallaichte so, am peacadh: ach tha fuath Dhé do ‘n pheacadh neo-chaochlaidheach, an ni ceudna, an dé, an diugh, agus gu siorruidh. Cha ‘n fheud ni sam bith inntinn atharrachadh, na chridhe aomadhi, gu bhi ann an sith ris a pheacadh: feudaidh Dia bhi ann an sith ris a pheacach a tha treigsinn a pheacaidh, agus a pilleadh d’ a ionnsuidh féin le fior aithreachas; ach cha ‘n fheud e ‘m feasd a bhi ann an sith ris a pheacadh, no ris an duine tha buanachadh an comhnuidh ann an gradh, ‘s ann an cleachduinn a pheacaidh. Tha fuath Dhé do ‘n pheacadh co mór, agus co laidir, as nach fheud e fholach. Tha e fior, gu bheil Diafad-fhualangach, agus mall chum feirg; feudaidh e fhearg a cheannsachadh, agus a chumail air a foillseachadh mar theine loisgeach, an aghaidh gach aindiadhachd, agus eucoir dhaoin. Tha Dia a foillseachadh fhuath do ‘n pheacadh le bhi ga thoirmeasg, agus ga chron-achadh anns an t-saoghal a ta láthair; ach gu sonruichte, le bhi ga leantuinn le peanas siorruidh anns an t-saoghal ri teachd.
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Dh’ fhoillsich Dia a chorruich an aghaidh a pheacaidh, le binn eagalach a bhàis a thoirt a mach an aghaidh a cheud Adhamh, co luath ‘sa dh’ ith e ‘meas toirmeasgt’. Chruathaich Dia an ceud Adhamh ann an staid ro mhaith, ann an seilbh air pailteas do gach ni a dh’ fheudadh a dheanamh toilichte le a chor, agus taigneil d’ a Chruith-fhear. Bha e saor o chionta, o agartas coguis, agus o eagal peanais; bha e ann an seilbh air slàinte cuirp, agus suaimhneas inntinn, agus bha e mar an ceudna, ann an sith ri Dia, agus ris gach creutair a chruithaich Dia, gus
an do thuit e gu staid peacaidh agus truaighe. Ach an uair a chunnaic Dia an creutair a chruthaich e ann an staid co sona, agus bha fo fhiacha co mòr a bhi freagarrach agus umhal d’ a thoil, a toirt geill d’ a namhaid, agus a togail a shàil ‘na aghaidh féin, las a choruich, ghairm e ‘n ceannairceach gu cunntas, agus thug e binn a bhàis gu grad a mach ‘na aghaidh féin agus a shloichd, a thuit maille ris anns a cheud seacharan. Bha bhinn so, cha ‘n e mhain air a cuir an ceill, ach mar an ceudna air a cuir an gnìomh gu ro dhiongmhalta, o thoiseach an t-soaghail. Cha robh aon àl do shloichd Adhamh a riamh fathasd air thalamh, a chaidh as o ‘n bhàs, no bha comasach seasmh an aghaidh cumhachd an namhaid so. Feudaidh am bàs a bhi deanamh tuille sgrios a’ measg dhaoine aig aon àm no aig àm eile; agus tha e cosmhuil gur ann an deigh mòr sgrios do ‘n t-seorsa so, anns an robh corruich Dnè air a foillseachadh an aghaidh aindidhachd dhaoine, a bha ‘n t-Sailm so air a sgriobhadh. Ach ciod sam bith cho caomhantach, no cho casgrach ‘sa dh’ fheudas am bàs a bhi ‘g oibreachadh, a’ measg luchd-àiteacha ‘n t-soaghail, aig aon àm seach àm eile, tha e ‘na ni cinnteach, nach do chaomhain e riamh fathasd aon àl do ‘n chinneadh dhaonna agus nach caomhain gu deireadh an t-soaghail: “oir tha ‘m bàs air orduchadh aon uair do na h-ùile dhaoinibh.” Tha e ‘na ni brònach, a bhi faicinn aon duine mhain air a dhiteadh gu bàs; ach ciod e aon duine, no ciod e iomad duine, ann an coimeas ris na muillionan, ri siochd Adhamh gu h-iomlan, air an diteadh gu bàs siorruidh le àrd-Bhreitheamh còthromach na cruitheachd? Oir ged tha cuid do ‘n chinneadh dhaonna air an saoradh o chionta, agus o pheanas, trid feartaibh fùil Chriosd, a thug e féin mar eiric air an son; gidheadh, bha peanas siorruidh air fhilleadh anns a bhàs a bhagair Dia o thoiseach, an aghaidh eas-umhlachd an duine. “S e tuarasdal a pheacaoidh am bàs,”—tha gach peacadh a toilltinn fèarg, agus mallachadh Dhé, anns an t-soaghal a tha lathair, agus chum teachd.
- Dh’ fhoillsich Dia a choruich gu tric an aghaidh a pheacaich, le bhi fiosrachadh luchd-àiteachaidh na talmhainn le breitheanasaihbh eagalach air a sgàth. Ma dh’ amhairceas sinn air ar ‘n ais gu laithibb Noah, feudaidh sinn Dia fhaicinn, mar gu ‘m b’ ann, a teachd a mach as ionad comhnuidh, a smachdachadh luchd àiteachaidh na talmhainn air doigh ro uamhasach. Fhuair a ghinealach aingidh a bha ‘g àiteachadh an t-sean t-soaghail, rabhadh mu thimchioll na feirg a bha ‘n tòir orra; ach cha b’ àill leo rabhadh a ghabhail, no aithreachas a dheanamh, no bhi air an irioslachadh fo laimh chumhachdaich
Dhé. Chuir iad an suarachas gach rabhadh a fhuair iad, agus bhunaich iad ag itheadh, ‘s ag òl, a pòsadh, agus air an toirt am posadh, a’ meudachadh ‘nan ruidhte, agus ‘nan ceannaire an aghaidh Dhé, gus an d’ thainig an dìle, gus an d’ éirich i mu ‘n timchioll agus gus an do sguab i air falbh iad uile dh’ ionnsuidh saoghal nan spiorad. B’ eagalach an doigh anns an do thaisbean Dia a chorruch an aghaidh luchd-aiteachaidh Shodoim, air son an gniomh-arrai bh an-dligheach, an uair a sgrios e iad gu h-obain, le sruth do theime, agus do phronnuse o neamh. Agus b’ eagalach, mar an ceudna, an doigh anns an do bhuin e ri Pharaoh, agus ri armaitibh, an uair a dh’ aom an cuan orra, agus le “fuathas uile bhàth.” “Sheid e le ghaoith, chomhdaich an fhaig iad, agus chaidh iad fodha, mar luaidh anns na h-uigseachaibh làidir.”
Bha na h-Iudhaich ‘nam pobull a chuir Dia air leth, fo linn an t-sean Tiomnaidh, gu bhi ‘nan sluagh sonruichte dha féin; ach bha iad ‘nan sluagh ro cheannairceach, ‘nan sluagh a bha gu tric le ‘n iodhol-aoraidh, agus le ‘n eas-umhlachd, a brosnachadh Dhe gu bhi gam fiosrachadh le sgiursaibh goirt do bhreitheanasaibh. B’ ann le sgiurs-adh goirt do ‘n t-seorsa so, a bha iad air an giùlan ann am bruid gu Babilon, agus b’ ann le sgiursadh goirt do ‘n nadur cheudna, bha iad fa ‘dheoidh, air am fuadachadh a mach as an oigreachd a roinn Dia orra le crann, air an sgapadh feadh an t-saoghail, agus air am fagail gu bhi na’ masladh, agus ‘nan leth-fhocal a’ measg eannich na tal-mhainn gus an là ‘n diugh. Tha focal Dé ag innseadh dhuinn, gu bheil an t-àm a teachd, anns am bi a chorruch air a foillseachadh air doigh ro eagalach an aghaidh eag-lais na Roimh, agus nan rioghachdan a dh’ òl do fhion a striopachais, agus a thug an cumhachd do ‘n fhiadh-bheathach. Tha e ro chosmhùil, o na nithibh a tha na sgrìobtuirean a cuir an ceill mu thimchioll sgrios an Ana-Criosd so, gu ‘m bi e air a choimhlionadh le comharaibh uamhasach air fearg an Uile-chumhachdaich. An uair a thaomas an seachdamh aingeal a shoitheach, leis am bi obair na feirge so air a criochnachadh, “bithidh guthana agus tairneanach, agus dealanach ann; agus bithidh crith mhòr thalmhainn ann, nach robb a leithid ann o bha daoiné air an talamh.”
- Anns an àite dheireadh air a cheann so, bithidh corruich Dhé air a foillseachadh air doigh rò uamhasach, an aghaidh a pheacaidh aig là a bhreitheanais. Tha Dia ‘na chorruch, comasach rioghachdan an t-saoghail so a chrathadh ‘nam mirbh as a cheile, am pronnadh ‘nam bloighdibh, mar shoitheach criathdair. Ged thairgeadh
uachdarain an t-saoghail cruinneachadh an ceann a cheile, maillé r’ an armaillibh, agus iad féin a chuir an ordugh cath an aghaidh an Tighearn, agus an aghaidh Aoin ungta-san, bhiodh iad uile mar dhreasan, mar chonnadh tior-am ‘na fhiannuis; rachadh a choruich rompa, agus loisgeadh i suas iad le cheile. Bithidh uachdarain agus daoiné cumachdach an t-saoghail, lag mar luachair, agus anmhunn mar uisge, an uair a thuiteas iad an lamhan an Dé bheo. Tha Dia comasach, cha ‘n e mhain rioghachdan so air an suidheachadh, ‘s air an daingneachadh, a chrathadh as a cheile, a thilgeadh bun os cionn, agus a losgadh le teine. So ni tha ri tachairt air an là mhór anns an toir Dia breith air an t-saoghal ann an ceartas, agus anns am bi choruich air a foillseachadh o neamh, an aghaidh gach mi-dhiadhachd, agus eucoir dhaoine. “Thig là an Tighearna, “deir an t-Abtol Peadar, “mar ghaduich san oidche, anns an teid na neamha thairis le toirm mhóir, agus anns an leagh na duile le dian-theas; agus bithidh an talamh mar an ceudna, agus h-oibre a ta air, air an losgadh suas.” Bithidh uile oibre dhaoine air an sgaol-eadh o cheile, ‘s air an tionndadh gu luathre, air an là mhór so;—bithidh an tighean, an luchairtean, agus gach obair innleachdach a rinn iad a riámh air an talamh, air an lom-sgrios;—bithidh, cha ‘n e mhain na h-oibre a rinn lamhan beaga dhaoine, ach na h-oibre mór, agus iongant-ach a rinn Dia, le dheas-laimh féin, air an sgaolleadh o cheile, ‘s air an losgadh le teine air an là so. “Tha iad uile air an tasgaidh suas fa chomhair teine, air cheann là a bhreitheanais, agus sgrios dhaoine aindiadhaidh.” Bithidh na cnuí, agus na sleibhtean, bithidh an saoghal uile, eadar urach is chrionach, eadar talamh is uisge, air a thionndadh gu aon loch do theine loisgeach, air an là mhór agus uamhasach so. Mhallaich Dia an talamh air sgath eas-umhlachd an duine; agus air dha bhi fo ‘n a mhallachadh, ‘s e ‘s deireadh dha bhi air a losgadh; agus anns an losgadh mhilleach agus eagallach so, co a dh’ fheudas seasamh? “Co,” deir am faidh Nahum, “a’s urrainn seasamh roimh fhearg-san, agus co dh’ fheudas fuireach ann an dian theas a choruich? oir tha choruich air a dordadh a mach mar theine, agus tha na cregan air an tilgeadh sios leis.”
(Ri leantuin.)