* Extract from Memorials of David Steven, by Rev. Alex. Auld. Mr. David Steven was born in Bower, Caithness, in 1779.
MR. STEVEN’S life makes it evident, we think, that he was possessed of unusual mental vigour and of superior tastes. But these qualities are not so rare as that it would be worth while to preserve a written record of them, were it not that his after eminence, in a higher sphere, reflects an interest on such particulars of his early life as can be gathered up, and that it will be gratifying to those by whom his memory is cherished.
In the year 1815, and when about 25 years of age, he became the subject of thoughts and reflections of vastly higher importance than the occupations and amusements that had hitherto interested him. Conscience began to awake, and to charge him with his sins, and with his responsibility to God. Began, we say, for the decision of Christian character that afterwards distinguished him was reached only after a long previous process. The steps of this process we have heard him relate—how at times, during his life of levity and worldliness, he would meet with striking checks from passages of Scripture suggested to his mind, and how he would combat his convictions and shake free of them. After a time, however, these returned with greater force. He then endeavoured to compromise the matter by joining a fellowship prayer meeting in the neighbourhood, while he still continued to be musical performer at the dancing parties. This compromise was broken up in a very unexpected but effective way. He was one day, with his instrument under his arm, on the road to a ball. A woman in the district, who had earned for herself—we know not how—the awful name of “Maggie Hell,” meeting David, accosted him, and, in strong terms, upbraided him for his inconsistency. “You worthless fellow,” said she, “going on in this way; praying a day, and playing the fiddle to the dancin’ folks the ither day—a bonnie kind of religion indeed.” David stood like one petrified. What! thought he; is it come to this, that I am the scorn of even Maggie Hell? He turned on the spot; went home, and laid up the fiddle. It was never again taken down to be used in public—the dancers that day finally lost their musician.
There was one circumstance that about this time forced religious matters on the attention of a large section of the county, and was the means of either awakening or stimulating the minds of not a few. The ministry of the late Mr. Gunn, of Watten, which from its commencement was remarkable, had now ripened into commanding power. As we have elsewhere recorded, the God-fearing were drawn to Watten from the surrounding parishes; and, as might be expected, the minister of Watten and his style of preaching became the theme of much speculation. Thus an interest in spiritual things was stirred, and truths were dropped into many minds that were little conversant with such formerly. The result was that many besides professing Christians began to betake themselves to Watten on the Sabbath, and David Steven among others.
When he came under Mr. Gunn’s ministry he was in an unsettled state of mind, and had been so for some time previously. He was exercised under a sense of his condition and character as a sinner. That was all; but it was much. It put him at once into the attitude of an attentive and interested hearer. He had not been many Sabbaths at Watten before, as he used say, “Mr. Gunn found him out”—i.e., laid bare his spiritual state. And with such increasing vividness each returning Sabbath, that David, thinking it was him the minister had in view, took his place in the furthest corner of the church. But he scarcely found himself comfortable there, for the minister’s delineations of character so closely corresponded with what he felt his own to be, that, thinking the likeness must appear to others as well as to himself, he would bow his head under the book board to escape the general gaze he expected to be turned upon him.
The first effect of the preaching at Watten was to deepen his sense of bondage, and to grind down his self-righteousness to very small dimensions. It was some time before he came to apprehend the new covenant way of reconciliation with God; and it would seem that, as his transition from a state of indifference into that of concern was gradual, so it was with his deliverance out of a state of legal bondage into gospel liberty; and that, while there were seasons when, under the hearing of the Word, he got such glimpses of the truth as it is in Jesus as gave him hope, these alternated with seasons of much depression.
But one day at Watten he got a signal deliverance, and the bonds that had been loosening fell off. That day he never forgot. He used to speak of it as if it stood out in his experience as his first sensible entrance into the liberty wherewith Christ maketh His people free. It left a lasting impress on his character and spiritual history. The sermon of the day was from the text—”God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John iii. 16), and the point of doctrine Mr. Gunn chiefly enlarged upon with unusual power and fulness was that of the antecedency of the love of God the Father to the mediation of Christ. “I used to think,” David would say, “that the love of God was procured by the work of Christ, but oh! the view I that day got of the love of the Father from eternity, and that it was because of that love that the Saviour was sent into the world. My heart was filled, and melted with a sense of God’s love to lost and guilty sinners in giving His only begotten Son for their salvation. How I longed, when the congregation broke up, to get home, that I might find a secret place in which to give vent to my feelings; and when I did reach my own dwelling, I could not well contain, but felt as if my bodily frame could not hold such measure as I had received, and went stumbling over what lay in my way into the barn, and there poured out my heart in adoration of the Lord’s love and mercy, and I had there a sweet word of promise given me—”Behold, I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it” (Rev. iii. 8). Many a miserable and perplexing hour has gone over my head since then, but that was a time I can never forget.”