The Late Rev. D. Macfarlane, Dingwall

IT is with the deepest regret we record the passing away of the aged and deeply respected father of our Church, the Rev. Donald Macfarlane, Dingwall. He passed away on the night of 4th November, at the patriarchal age of over 90 years. The Lord granted to him a long life, and upheld him during his long pilgrimage in faithfully witnessing for Him up to the end. The noble stand he made against the modern innovations in religion is well known throughout the Highlands. His sympathies went out to the Lord’s people in every land, and he watched with the keenest interest the struggle going on in the Church of England, and raised his voice and used his pen against the tactics of the ritualistic party both in the Church of England and Scotland. He was a determined witness against Modernism in religion. Mr Macfarlane was greatly beloved by the Lord’s people as a preacher. There was a beautiful simplicity in his diction and clearness in his expression. His sermons had also that indefinable quality which characterised Spurgeon’s; they were as attractive in print as in delivery. Of all the sermons which appeared in the Magazine there were none in connection with which we received so many letters of appreciation, and these letters of appreciation were not confined to Scotland. Mr Macfarlane excelled in exposition. He was decidedly one of the finest preachers in this department we ever heard. With this gift was combined spirituality of mind and prayerfulness, which gave an unction to his utterances highly relished by the godly. As one who had warred a good warfare against the world, the flesh, and the devil, he was able to draw from his rich store of experience things new and old that were exceedingly helpful to the Lord’s tried and harassed

people. Christ was all in all to him. We remember hearing him say over a year ago, when addressing a Table at Dingwall:—”I have now been serving Christ for 67 years, and I am as needful of Him to-day as ever.” The words made a great impression on many, as they looked upon the frail figure soon to vanish from their sight thus bearing testimony to his deep need of Christ as his all in all. For a short time before the end he had a period of great darkness, but from this he had deliverance from the words—”Moreover whom He did foreknow, He also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the first born among many brethren. Moreover, whom He did predestinate, them He also called; and whom He called, them He also justified, and whom He justified, them He also glorified (Rom. viii. 29, 30).” He preached afterwards on these beautiful links in the golden chain binding the two eternities together, and one could see as he spoke of his deliverance how sweet this portion of the Word of God was to him. As a specimen of his preaching we give in this issue a sermon from the words—”Until the day break and the shadows flee away, etc.,” and beautifully though he describes the longing for this day, yet how poor he will feel all that ever he said on the dawning of God’s perfect day as he now knows it and sees it. In the removal of Mr Macfarlane our Church has not only lost a faithful minister, but one who pled continually for it at a throne of grace. And we are sure when the extracts from his diary are published that our readers will feel as we felt when we read them that Mr Macfarlane was one of that noble army of wrestlers who would not let the Lord go until He blessed them. We are the poorer as a Church now that he is gone. We do not purpose giving an account of Mr Macfarlane’s career as a man, a preacher, and a witness for Christ, as we hope a more competent pen will deal with the subject, but in giving this very brief notice of a faithful servant of Christ who has now fallen asleep in Jesus we cannot do better than quote Bunyan’s words of the passing of Mr Standfast:—”Then there came forth a summons,” says Bunyan, “for Mr Standfast. This Mr Standfast was he that the pilgrims found upon his knees in the Enchanted Ground, and the post brought it him open in his hands. The contents whereof were, that he must prepare for a change of life, for his Master was not willing that he should be so far from him any longer. At this Mr Standfast was put into a muse. ‘Nay,’ said the

messenger, ‘you need not doubt of the truth of my message, for here is a token of the truth thereof; ‘thy wheel is broken at the cistern.’ . . . When Mr Standfast has thus set things in order, and the time being come for him to haste him away, he also went down to the river; now there was a great calm at that time in the river; wherefore Mr Standfast, when he was about half way in, stood awhile and talked to his companions that had waited upon him thither: and he said, ‘This river has been a terror to many; yea, the thoughts of it also have often frightened me: now, methinks, I stand easy; my foot is fixed upon that on which the feet of the priests that bare the ark of the covenant stood, while Israel went over this Jordan (I. Josh. iii. 17). The waters, indeed, are to the palate bitter, and to the stomach cold; yet the thoughts of what I am going to, and of the conduct that waits for me on the other side, doth lie as a glowing coal at my heart. I see myself now at the end of my journey; my toilsome days are ended. I am going to see that head that was crowned with thorns, and that face that was spit upon for me. I have formerly lived by hearsay and faith; but now I go where I shall live by sight, and shall be with Him in whose company I delight myself. I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of; and wherever I have seen the print of His shoe in the earth, there I have coveted to set my foot too. His name has been to me as a civet-box; yea, sweeter than all perfumes. His voice to me has been most sweet; and His countenance I have more desired than they that have most desired the light of the sun. His words I did use to gather for my food, and for antidotes against my faintings. He has held me, and has kept me from mine iniquities; yea, my steps have been strengthened in His way.’ Now, while he was thus in discourse, his countenance changed; his strong man bowed under him: and after he had said, ‘Take me, for I come unto thee,’ he ceased to be seen of them.”

We extend our sympathy to his widow in the loss of a devoted husband, and to the relatives in their loss, and also to the congregation of Dingwall, who have lost one who went out and in among them declaring the glad tidings of salvation and faithfully warning the wicked. We conclude this brief tribute to a worthy minister of Christ in the words of eternal truth—’Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth: yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours, and their works do follow them'” (Rev. xiv. 13).

A Sermon

BY THE LATE REV. D. MACFARLANE, DINGWALL.

Preached on Sabbath, the 28th October, 1917.

“Until the day break and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether” (Song, ii. 17).

In this book of Songs Christ speaks to His Church and she speaks to Him. In our text it is the Church that speaks, and she expresses her hope of His coming to her, and prays for His coming. We have two things here—

I. The hope of the Church.

II. Her prayer.

I. The hope of the Church. What did she hope for? She hoped for the coming of the day. Comparatively speaking, it was night with the Church in Old Testament times, although she had some light. It was a dark dispensation. Christ was set forth in types and shadows, and although the Church saw Christ in these types and shadows, she longed for His coming, and hoped for His coming. The warrant of her hope was God’s promise, which was given to our first parents in the garden of Eden. We cannot hope for anything that God did not promise, but we may hope for all that He promised to sinful men. Although the Church had some light before the coming of Christ, it was not day till He who is the light of the world and the Sun of Righteousness came. Abraham desired to see the coming of Christ. He by faith saw it afar off and rejoiced. Believers after the time of Abraham looked forward to the coming of Christ, and it was revealed to them by the Holy Ghost that he would not die till he saw the Lord’s Anointed. He saw Him in the temple soon after He had been born in human nature, “took Him up in his arms and blessed God, and said, Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace according to thy word. For mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou has prepared before the face of all people; a light to lighten the Gentiles and the glory of thy people Israel (Luke ii. 26-32).” He saw the day break, though he did not live to see noon-day, which time did not come till the Resurrection of Christ, when the Sun of Righteousness came to his meridian height, and when the night of the Old Testament Church came to an end, and the day of the New Testament Church began. The shadows of the ceremonial law fled away, never to return. The ceremonial law

has no place in the New Testament Church, although some try to keep it up still, but this is like lighting a candle in daylight. The Jews were very foolish in trying to keep hold of the shadow, while they rejected the glorious person whose shadow was set forth in the ceremonial law. They were like a wife whose husband was away in a foreign land, and when he came home, the wife said, “I did not desire your coming at all. I was quite satisfied with your picture which I have in my room.” “He came to His own, and His own received Him not,” but believers received Him. It is night within the believer when Christ is absent, but though in a state of desertion, he hopes for the day by the coming of Christ, like Jonah when he was in darkness in the fish’s belly, he said, “I will look again toward thy holy temple (Jonah ii. 4).” It is not pleasant to be in darkness; you are afraid of walking outside on a dark night lest you slip and fall into a ditch, but when Christ comes to you it is day, and the shadows of unbelief and forebodings flee away, as in the case of Thomas. He was for eight days in the darkness of unbelief, but when Christ revealed Himself to him and spoke to him a word in season, the shadows fled away, and he exclaimed with joy, “My Lord and my God.” If we had Christ with us the darkest night would be turned into a bright day, winter would be turned into summer, and our doubts and fears would flee away, and instead of gloominess and sorrow, we would rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory, but so long as the Lord’s people are in this world they have their night as well as their day, and it is not a good sign on professors of religion who have no experience of these changes. It is a sign of spiritual blindness, blind people are not able to make any distinction between day and night; day and night are the same to them. They may have a kind of light, “sparks of their own kindling,” which are but darkness. As Christ said to others—”If the light that is in you be darkness, how great is that darkness (Matt. vi. 23).” It is a light that leads astray.

In times of spiritual declension it is night with the Church. This has often been the case in the past, both in Old Testament times and New Testament times. In the Old the Church was brought by false teachers and wicked kings into the darkness of idolatry. For instance, we may refer you to the prophets of Baal and to Jeroboam, the son of Nebat, who made Israel to sin in leading them to idolatry. In speaking of New

Testament times, there was a long and a dark night in the Church before the Reformation in the 16th century. There was a period of gross darkness of upwards of a thousand years, commonly called the Dark Ages. Why were they called the Dark Ages? Because Christ, the light of the world, was not in the Church as a Church, and the light of the Word of God was kept hid from the people. But the Lord’s people, who worshipped Him in dens and caves of the earth, hoped for the day, and their hope was founded upon God’s promise of a reviving of His Church and causing his Kingdom to come. Their hope was not disappointed, for the day came at last: God raised up witnesses for Himself out of the great darkness. The Bible, which was for a long time a sealed book, was opened and its doctrines preached to the people, with the result that the most of the kingdoms of Europe were brought under the benign influence of the Gospel, and the dark shadows of idolatry and superstition fled away. There are many in our own day who hold that the Reformation was a mistake and a breaking up of the Christian Church, and they miscall the Reformers for doing such an evil work. Luther, in particular, is vilified for his Reformation in Germany. The Reformation from Popery extended to our own land, which had the effect of savingly converting many, and also of reforming the morals of the people, and when this light of the Gospel came, the shadows of ignorance, idolatry, and superstition fled away.

We have a dark time in our own day, the darkest since the Reformation in the 16th century. Christ is not preached as He used to be, the light of the Bible is put under a bushel. The idolatry of Popery is introduced into so-called Protestant Churches, and our rulers in the State do their utmost to advance the darkness, but when it comes to its height we may expect the dawning of the day. We hope for the day, and God’s promise is the warrant of our hope, for He promised a bright and a long day of a thousand years, and although we may not live to see the dawn of it, we, like Abraham, rejoice that this day is coming, when the shadows flee away.

There is another day coming: the day of glory in heaven—the brightest day of all—when all shadows shall flee away, never to return again. The Church hopes for that day, and the warrant of her hope is the promise—”He will give grace and glory” (Ps. lxxxiv.). The day of glory shall be brighter than the millennial day, for bright as the millennial day is, there shall

be shadows of darkness in it, but the light of glory has not the least mixture of darkness, and it shall also be longer, for it shall be an everlasting day. The sun shall never go down, and if it is pleasant to see the light for a short time, how much more pleasant it is to behold it always.

II. The prayer of the Church. “Turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart on the mountains of Bether.” It is to be observed that the person to whom the Church prays is a person she loves—”My beloved.” Christ loves His Church and she loves Him. The first petition in the prayer is “Turn,” which implies that He was present with her before. It is those that enjoyed Christ’s fellowship before that pray that He would come to them again. In the interval, before they are brought to be with Him where He is in heaven, they pray that He would visit them now and again. They cannot be happy without Him.

The second thing in the prayer is that He would make haste in coming, and come swiftly like the roe or the young hart that runs quicker than any other quadruped and travels a long distance in a short time; but swift as the roe is, Christ comes to His people more quickly when they cry to Him in the time of need. Though they should cry to Him like the Psalmist “from the ends of the earth,” He comes to them in a moment of time (Is. lxi. 2). Others who are not in earnest may ask Christ to come to them, but not now, and that He shall be in good time if He comes to them before they die; but His own people pray that He should come speedily: Make haste, O God, to deliver me. Make haste to help me, O God (Ps. lxx. 1). There are mountains in the way, and as the roe or the young hart comes swiftly over mountains, so does Christ. The mountains are called the mountains of Bether, or Mountains of Separation. There are several mountains standing between Christ and His people, so that they cannot see Him or enjoy His presence as they would wish till He comes over these mountains. Unbelief is one of these mountains, the carnal mind is another, and provocations innumerable are other mountains. The temptations of Satan are another fearful mountain, but none of these shall hinder Christ from coming to them. He comes to them in the word of the Gospel, and in fulfilment of His promise—”I will not leave you comfortless (or orphans); I will come to you (John xiv. 18).”

So long as man stood in the state in which God created him he had a bright and a happy day, but

when he sinned he brought a dark night upon himself and upon his natural posterity, but when the promise of a Saviour was given, the light of day and of a brighter day began to shine on a sinful world, and there was thus a door of hope set before lost men which kept those who believed the promise from falling into the darkness of despair. It was the promise of Christ that turned that dark night into day. O! how thankful we ought to be that we were not left like the fallen angels, for whom no Saviour was provided.

It is night with all who are still in a state of nature, but those “who have been delivered from the power of darkness and translated into the Kingdom of God’s dear Son (Col. i. 13),” have seen the light of a day that shall never come to an end, and whatever darkness still remains is in themselves, and a darkness by which they are surrounded in a sinful world; they shall never fall again into the darkness of a state of nature. They may be brought into darkness by the temptations of Satan, not because of any sin lying on their conscience, but for the trial of their faith—”That the trial of your faith being much more precious than of gold that perisheth though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ (I. Peter i. 7).” As the Church of the Old Testament prayed for the coming of the day as well as hoped for it, the Lord’s people now should pray for the day when the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the deep, and when all the kingdoms of the world shall be made the kingdoms of the Lord and His Christ, and that glorious event shall take place by the preaching of the Gospel. Let them pray that His Kingdom may come, and that the kingdom of Satan may be destroyed. Then the shadows shall flee away. With regard to the day of glory, the means of grace as they are now used shall flee away, and a new dispensation shall be ushered in, which shall never come to an end, when all the redeemed are gathered up to heaven, Christ shall be the only preacher, and ministers of the Gospel shall be among His hearers. He as the Lamb “in the midst of the throne shall feed them and lead them unto living fountains of waters, and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes (Rev. vii. 17).” In that city of perfect light and happiness there is no need of the sun, neither of the moon to shine in it; for the glory of God lightens it, and the Lamb is the light thereof (Rev. xxi. 23).

Christian Passes Over the River.*

BY JOHN BUNYAN.

THESE men asked the pilgrims whence they came? and they told them. They also asked them where they had lodged, what difficulties and dangers, what comforts and pleasures, they had met with in the way? and they told them. Then said the men that met them, “You have but two difficulties more to meet with, and then you are in the city.” Christian then and his companion asked the men to go along with them: so they told them they would: But, said they, you must obtain it by your own faith. So I saw in my dream that they went on together till they came in sight of the gate.

Now I further saw that betwixt them and the gate was a river; but there was no bridge to go over: the river was very deep. At the sight therefore of this river, the pilgrims were much stunned; but the men that went with them said, “You must go through, or you cannot come at the gate.” The pilgrims began to inquire if there was no other way to the gate? to which they answered, “Yes: but there hath not any, save two, to wit, Enoch and Elijah, been permitted to tread that path since the foundation of the world, nor shall, until the last trumpet shall sound.” The pilgrims then (especially Christian) began to despond in their minds, and looked this way and that, but no way could be found by them, by which they might escape the river. Then they asked the men, “If the waters were all of a depth?” they said, No; yet they could not help them in that case: “For,” said they, “you shall find it deeper or shallower, as you believe in the King of the place.”

Then they addressed themselves to the water, and entering, Christian began to sink, and crying out to his good friend Hopeful, he said, “I sink in deep waters; the billows go over my head; all his waves go over me. Selah.” Then said the other, “Be of good cheer, my brother; I feel the bottom, and it is good.” Then said Christian. “Ah! my friend, the sorrow of death hath compassed me about, I shall not see the land that flows with milk and honey.” And with that a great dark-

* This is one of a series of extracts from the “Pilgrim’s Progress” we intend giving in successive issues of the Magazine. Our readers will understand our reason for selecting this extract for the present issue.—Editor.

ness and horror fell upon Christian, so that he could not see before him. Also he in a great measure lost his senses, so that he could neither remember nor orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments, that he had met with in the way of his pilgrimage. But all the words that he spake still tended to discover that he had horror of mind, and heart-fears that he should die in that river, and never obtain entrance in at the gate. Here also, as they that stood by perceived, he was much in the troublesome thoughts of the sins that he had committed, both since and before he began to be a pilgrim. It was also observed, that he was troubled with apparitions of hobgoblins and evil spirits; for ever and anon he would intimate so much by words. Hopeful therefore here had much ado to keep his brother’s head above water; yea, sometimes he would be quite gone down, and then, ere a while, would rise up again half dead. Hopeful did also endeavour to comfort him, saying, “Brother, I see the gate, and men standing by to receive us;” but Christian would answer, “It is you, it is you they wait for; you have been Hopeful ever since I knew you.” “And so have you,” said he to Christian. “Ah, brother,” said he, “surely if I was right, He would now rise to help me; but for my sins He hath brought me into the snare, and hath left me.” Then said Hopeful, “My brother, you have quite forgot the text, where it is said of the wicked, there are no bands in their death, but their strength is firm; they are not troubled as other men, neither are they plagued like other men. These troubles and distresses that you go through in these waters, are no sign that God hath forsaken you; but are sent to try you, whether you will call to mind that which heretofore you have received of His goodness, and live upon Him in your distresses.”

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian was in a muse a while. To whom also Hopeful added these words, “Be of good cheer, Jesus Christ maketh thee whole.” And with that Christian brake out with a loud voice, “Oh, I see Him again! and He tells me, When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee! and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee” (Isa. xliii. 2). Then they both took courage, and the enemy was after that as still as a stone, until they were gone over. Christian therefore presently found ground to stand upon, and so it followed that the rest of the river was but shallow; but thus they got over.

Now upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they saw the two shining men again, who there waited

for them. Wherefore being come out of the river, they saluted them, saying, “We are ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for those that shall be heirs of salvation.” Thus they went along towards the gate. Now you must note that the city stood upon a mighty hill: but the pilgrims went up the hill with ease, because they had these two men to lead them up by the arms: also they had left their mortal garments behind them in the river; for though they went in with them, they came out without them. They therefore went up here with much agility and speed, though the foundation upon which the city was framed was higher than the clouds: they therefore went up through the region of the air, sweetly talking as they went, being comforted, because they safely got over the river, and had such glorious companions to attend them.

The talk that they had with the shining ones was about the glory of the place; who told them, that the beauty and glory of it was inexpressible. There, said they is “Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect” (Heb. xii. 22-24). You are going now, said they, to the Paradise of God, wherein you shall see the Tree of Life, and eat of the never-fading fruits thereof: and when you come there you shall have white robes given you, and your walk and talk shall be every day with the King, even all the days of eternity (Rev. ii. 7; iii. 4; xxii. 5). There you shall not see again such things as you saw when you were in the lower region upon the earth, to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and death, “for the former things are passed away” (Isa. lxv. 16). You are going now to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, and to the prophets, men that God hath taken away from the evil to come, and that are now “resting upon their beds, each one walking in his righteousness.” The men then asked, “What must we do in the holy place?” To whom it was answered, “You must there receive the comforts of all your toil, and have joy for all your sorrow; you must reap what you have sown, even the fruit of all your prayers, and tears, and sufferings for the King, by the way (Gal. vi. 7, 8). In that place you must wear crowns of gold, and enjoy the perpetual sight and vision of the Holy One; for “there you shall see Him as He is” (I. John iii. 2). There also you shall serve Him continually with praise, with shouting, and thanksgiving, whom you desired to serve in the world, though with much difficulty, because of the infirmity of your flesh.

There your eyes shall be delighted with seeing, and your ears with hearing, the pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There you shall enjoy your friends again, that are gone thither before you; and there you shall with joy receive even every one that follows into the holy places after you. There also you shall be clothed with glory and majesty, and put into an equipage fit to ride out with the King of Glory. When He shall come with sound of trumpet in the clouds, as upon the wings of the wind, you shall come with Him; and, when He shall sit upon the throne of judgment, you shall sit by Him: yea, and when He shall pass sentence upon all the workers of iniquity, let them be angels or men, you also shall have a voice in that judgment, because they were His and your enemies. Also when He shall again return to the city, you shall go too with sound of trumpet, and be ever with Him (I. Thess. iv. 13-17).

Now, while they were thus drawing towards the gate, behold a company of the heavenly host came out to meet them; to whom it was said by the other two shining ones, “These are the men that have loved our Lord, when they were in the world, and that have left all for His holy name, and He hath sent us to fetch them, and we have brought them thus far on their desired journey, that they may go in and look their Redeemer in the face with joy.” Then the heavenly host gave a great shout, saying, “Blessed are they that are called to the marriage-supper of the Lamb” (Rev. xix. 9). There came out also at this time to meet them several of the King’s trumpeters, clothed in white and shining raiment, who with melodious noises and loud made even the heavens to echo with their sound. These trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with ten thousand welcomes from the world: and this they did with shouting and sound of trumpet.

This done, they compassed them round on every side; some went before, some behind, and some on the right hand, some on the left (as it were to guard them through the upper region), continually sounding as they went, with melodious noise, in notes on high; so that the very sight was to them that could behold it, as if heaven itself was come down to meet them. Thus therefore they walked on together; and, as they walked, ever and anon these trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, by mixing their music with looks and gestures, still signify to Christian and his brother how welcome they were into their company, and with

what gladness they came to meet them. And now were these two men, as it were, in heaven, before they came at it, being swallowed up with the sight of angels, and with hearing their melodious notes. Here also they had the city itself in view, and they thought they heard all the bells therein to ring, to welcome them thereto. But, above all, the warm and joyful thoughts that they had about their own dwelling there with such company, and that for ever and ever, oh! by what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be expressed!—Thus they came up to the gate.

Now, when they were come up to the gate, there was written over it, in letters of gold, “Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city” (Rev. xxii. 14).

Then I saw in my dream, that the shining men bid them call at the gate: the which when they did, some from above looked over the gate, to wit, Enoch, Moses, and Elijah, etc., to whom it was said, “These pilgrims are come from the City of Destruction, for the love that they bear to the King of this place” and then the pilgrims gave in unto them each man his certificate, which they had received in the beginning: those therefore were carried in unto the King, who, when he had read them, said, “Where are the men?” to whom it was answered, “They are standing without the gate.” The King then commanded to “open the gate, that the righteous nation,” said he, “that keepeth truth, may enter in” (Isa. xxvi. 2).

Now I saw in my dream, that these two men went in at the gate; and, lo, as they entered, they were transfigured; and they had raiment put on that shone like gold. There were also that met them with harps and crowns, and gave them to them; the harps to praise withal, and the crowns in token of honour. Then I heard in my dream that all the bells in the city rang again with joy, and that it was said unto them, “Enter ye into the joy of your Lord.” I also heard the men themselves, that they sang with a loud voice, saying, “Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power, be to Him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb for ever and ever” (Rev. v. 13, 14).

Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after them, and behold the city shone like the sun; the streets also were paved with gold; and in them walked many men with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps, to sing

praises withal. There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another, without intermission, saying, “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord.” And after that they shut up the gates: which when I had seen, I wished myself among them.

Archibald Boyle: An Authentic Story.

A hundred years ago there was in Glasgow a club of gentlemen of the first rank in that city. They met professedly for card-playing, but the members were distinguished by such a fearless excess of profligacy as to obtain for it the name of “The Hell Club.” They gloried in the name they had acquired for themselves, and nothing that could merit it was left un-tried. Besides their nightly or weekly meetings, they held a grand annual festival, at which each member endeavoured to “outdo all his former outdoings” in drunkenness, blasphemy, and other sins. Of all who shone on these occasions none shone half so brilliantly as Archibald Boyle. He had been at one time a youth of the richest promise, being possessed of dazzling talents and fascinating manners. No acquirement was too high for his ability; but, unfortunately, there was none too low for his ambition! Educated by a fond and foolishly indulgent mother, he early met in society with members of “The Hell Club.” Long ere he was five-and-twenty he was one of the most accomplished blackguards it could number on its lists. To him what were Heaven, Hell, or Eternity? Words, that served no purpose but to point his blasphemous wit or nerve his execrations. Alas! as soon as man forgets God, who alone can keep him, his understanding becomes darkened, and he glories in that which is his shame.

One night, on retiring to sleep, after returning from an annual festival of the club, Boyle dreamt that he was still riding, as usual, upon his famous black horse towards his own house—then a country seat em-bowered by ancient trees upon a hill—and that he was suddenly accosted by some one whose personal appearance he could not, in the gloom of night, distinctly discern, but who seizing the reins, said in a voice apparently accustomed to command, “You must go with me.” “And who are you?” exclaimed Boyle, as he struggled to disengage his reins from the intruder’s grasp. “That you will see by and by,” replied the same voice in a cold sneering tone that thrilled through

his very heart. Boyle plunged his spurs into the panting sides of his steed. The noble animal reared, and then suddenly darted forward with a speed that nearly deprived his rider of breath; but in vain, in vain!—fleeter than the wind he flew, the mysterious, half-seen guide still before him! Agonised by he knew not what, of indescribable horror and awe, Boyle again furiously spurred the gallant horse. It fiercely reared and plunged, he lost his seat, and expected at the moment to feel himself dashed to the earth. But not so, for he continued to fall—fall—fall—it appeared to himself, with an ever-increasing velocity. At length this terrific rapidity of motion abated, and to his amazement and horror he perceived that this mysterious attendant was close by his side. “Where?” he exclaimed, in the frantic energy of despair, “where are you taking me? Where am I—where am I going?” “To Hell!” replied the same iron voice, and from the depths below the sound so familiar to his lips was suddenly re-echoed. “To Hell!” Onward, onward, they hurried in darkness, rendered more horrible still by the conscious presence of his spectral conductor. At length a glimmering light appeared in the distance, and soon increased to a blaze; but, as they approached it, in addition to the hideously discordant groans and yells of agony and despair, his ears were assailed with what seemed to be the echoes of frantic revelry. They soon reached an arched entrance of such stupendous magnificence that all the grandeur of this world seemed in comparison but as the frail and dingy labours of the poor mole. Within it, what a scene!—too awful to be described. Multitudes gnashing their teeth in the hopelessness of despair; while memory, recalling opportunities lost and mercies despised, presented to their fevered mental vision the scenes of their past lives.

Boyle at length perceived that he was surrounded by those whom he had known on earth, but were some time dead, each one of them betraying his agony at the bitter recollections of the vain pursuits that had engrossed his time here—time lent to prepare for a far different scene! Suddenly observing that his unearthly conductor had disappeared, he felt so relieved by his absence that he ventured to address his former friend, Mrs D—, whom he saw sitting with eyes fixed in intense earnestness, as she was wont on earth, apparently absorbed at her favourite game of loo. “Ha, Mrs D—! delighted to see you; d’ye know a fellow told me to-night he was bringing me to Hell!—ha, ha! If this be Hell,” said he, scoffingly, “what a precious

pleasant place it must be!—ha, ha! Come now, my good Mrs D—, for auld lang syne do just stop for a moment’s rest, and”—“show me through the pleasures of Hell,” he was going, with reckless profanity, to add; but with a shriek that seemed to pierce through his very soul, she exclaimed, “Rest! there is no rest in Hell!” and from interminable vaults, voices, as loud as thunder, repeated the awful, the heart-withering sound, “There is no rest in Hell!” And they laughed for they had laughed on earth at all that is good and holy. And they sang—profane and blasphemous songs sang they, for they had often done so on earth, at the very hour God claims as His own—the still and midnight hour. And he who, in his vision, walked among them in a mortal frame of flesh and blood, felt how inexpressibly more horrible such sounds could be than ever was the wildest shriek of agony on earth. And this was Hell!—the scoffer’s jest, the by-word of the profligate.

All at once he perceived that his unearthly conductor was once more by his side. “Take me, shrieked Boyle, “take me from this place! By the living God, whose Name I have so often outraged, I adjure thee, take me from this place!” “Can’st thou still name His Name?” said the fiend, with a hideous sneer. “Go, then; but—in a year and a day we meet to part no more.” Boyle awoke, and he felt as if the last words of the fiend were traced in letters of living fire upon his heart and brain. He resolved, utterly and for ever, to forsake “The Club.” Above all, he determined that nothing on earth should tempt him to join the next annual festival. The companions of his licentiousness soon flocked around him, and finding that his deep dejection of mind did not disappear with his bodily ailment, and that it arose from some cause which disinclined him from seeking or enjoying their accustomed orgies, they became alarmed with the idea of losing “the life of the Club,” and they bound themselves by an oath never to desist till they had discovered what was the matter with him, for one of their number declared, that on unexpectedly entering Boyle’s room, he detected him in the act of hastily hiding a book, which he actually believed was the Bible.

After a time one of his compeers, more deeply cunning than the rest, bethought himself of assuming an air of the deepest disgust with the world, the Club, and the mode of life they had been pursuing. He affected to seek Boyle’s company in a mood of congenial melancholy, and to sympathise in all his feelings. Thus

he succeeded in betraying him into a much-misplaced confidence as to his dream, and the effect it had produced upon his mind. The result may be readily guessed. His confidence was betrayed, his feelings of repentance ridiculed, and it will easily be believed that he who “hid the Bible” had not nerve to stand the ribald jests of his profligate companions. From the annual meeting he shrunk with an instinctive horror, yet found himself, he could not tell how, seated at that table on that very day where he had sworn to himself a thousand and a thousand times nothing on earth should make him sit. His ears tingled, and his eyes swam, as he listened to the opening sentence of the president’s address: “Gentlemen, this is leap year; therefore it is a year and a day since our last annual meeting.” Every nerve in Boyle’s body twanged in agony at the ominous, the well-remembered words. His first impulse was to rise and flee; but then—the sneers! the sneers! How many in this world, as well as poor Boyle, have sold their souls to the dread of a sneer, and dared the wrath of an almighty and eternal God, rather than encounter the sarcastic curl of a fellow-creature’s lip.

The night was gloomy, with frequent and fitful gusts of chill and howling wind, as Boyle, with fevered nerves and a reeling brain, mounted his horse to return home. The following morning the well-known black steed was found, with saddle and bridle on, quietly grazing by the road-side, about half-way to Boyle’s country house, and a few yards from it lay the stiffened corpse of its master!

God, who has the power of communicating with the minds of His creatures, did doubtless speak by a dream to poor Archibald Boyle and through the same dream He now speaks to you. The dream is horrible—truly horrible, yet not half so horrible as the reality. Ah, no! no dream can picture the full, long misery of “the worm that dieth not,” “the fire that is never quenched,” the woe that never ends. Had the poor dreamer gone direct from his sense of Hell to Christ, to Him who died to save us from its coming wrath, how different his end! In Christ he would have found a deliverer from Hell, for in Him he would have found One, who, sinless Himself, was competent to undertake the sinner’s cause, and who had borne the dreadful judgment of sin in His own blessed Person. And it is the belief of the Gospel which gives peace and power over sin.

Reader, let these words sound in your ears, but drink in also the glad tidings of salvation which proclaim to you that the judgment due to the sinner, Christ has suffered, for “He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities.” He died for the sinner—the vilest and the greatest—that the sinner believing in Jesus “should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John iii. 16). Oh, accept even now the salvation of God ere it be too late!