By REV. D. BEATON.
(Continued from page 169.)
It was in 1712 that Boston commenced the writing of the Fourfold State, and it is scarcely needful to say that it is as the author of this book that he is most widely known. Probably no theological book ever exercised such a mighty influence on the religious life of Scotland, and the sphere of its influence was not confined to Scotland alone, as Dr. Andrew Thomson in his Thomas Boston of Ettrick: His Life and Times informs us. “In a paper,” he says, “of much ability and interest on ‘Religious Thought in Wales,’ which was not long since read by Principal Edwards at a great meeting of the Presbyterian Alliance in London, it was stated that if you entered the house of a rustic elder or leader of the private societies fifty years ago, you would uniformly find that he had a small and very select library. Among other books you would be sure to lay your hand on translations into Welsh of Boston’s Fourfold State, Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, Owen’s Person of Christ and Mortification of Sin in Believers and others. It is also true that in our British colonies at the present day, especially where the Scottish element abounds in the population, the Fourfold State continues to be sought after and read, and we have received testimony from natives that it is extensively sold and circulated on the misty coasts of Labrador.” The Fourfold State has passed through many editions, and it is interesting to observe that the London Religious Tract Society issues the work.
It was in 1711 his friend Dr. Trotter proposed to his beloved pastor that he should print some of his sermons. Boston received the proposal at first with astonishment, but after some consideration he shewed the notes of a certain series of sermons dealing with man’s fourfold state to his friend. Dr. Trotter was greatly pleased with them. Boston now went with the matter to his great Counsellor. “I spent most of this day (January 16),” he says, “in prayer and meditation for light in this matter: and after all I found that I had rational grounds to oblige me to make an essay; but could not find such a lively sense of the call of God thereto as I desired. I observed, that the papers being kept up so long after I was made to wait for their return, was of a piece with the Lord’s ordinary way with me, to bring matters first very low before they rise. One told me she observed that these sermons had more influence on the people of their neighbourhood, than any before or since. I found myself this night convinced, that they might be useful to many in regard of the room the Lord has given me in people’s affections; and this went nearest to the raising in my heart such a lively sense of the command or call of God, as might help me to believe, that He would be with me in the work; which is the thing I want.” 14. Memoirs, p. 256. This was only one of many such appeals for guidance in this matter. Boston was earnestly seeking God’s glory, and he could honestly say, “I can appeal to God that it is not a name for myself I seek. The Lord knows that I could be content to lose name or credit amongst men, so that the sermons are useful to poor souls.” The work was actually begun on January 29, 1712, when, “after prayer and getting my heart composed,” he says, “to a dependence on the Lord, I began to write out my sermons.” The book was finished on the 9th March, 1713, but was not printed until 1720. It was well nigh strangled in its birth, for one of the civic dignitaries of Edinburgh, who had assisted in the negotiations for procuring a publisher, offered his services as proof-reader. But when the proofs reached the author at Ettrick, he found that not only were printer’s errors corrected, but important changes were made in the body of the work. This vexatious delay, however, was at last overcome and the book went forth to the world, entitled Human Nature in its Fourfold State of Primitive Integrity, Entire Depravity, Begun Recovery, and Consummate Happiness or Misery. The work consists of sermons preached at Simprin, which were recast in 1708 and 1709 and preached again at Ettrick. The book immediately found a public. It had the qualification of a book that was to last—it made no appeal to a passing fancy, but dealt with those mighty problems that must ever have an interest for men and women who realise the momentousness of life. Its theology is the theology of the Bible as interpreted by the great Dutch divines and the Marrowmen. The ring of the federal theology and the full and free offer of Christ so much in evidence in the Marrow theology may all be traced in this religious classic. Its teaching has been beautifully described by one when he says: “Boston took the bewildered child of trespass familiarly by the hand and descending to the level of his untutored capacity gave him a clear and consecutive view of the innocence from which he had fallen, the misery in which he was involved, the economy of restoration under which he was situated, and the hope which, by submitting to that economy, he might warrantably entertain. His eye as he wrote was upon the awkward sinner, that he might arouse him from his dangerous lethargy; upon the anxious inquirer, that he might guide his steps into the right way; and upon the young convert, that he might guard him against devious paths and perilous delays. He never failed to show the bearing of Christian doctrine upon the conscience, the affections and the life and to mingle with the light of systematic arrangement beseeching tenderness and practical appeal.”
In the spring of 1713 he borrowed a copy of Cross’s Taghmical Art from a neighbour, and “had I known then,” he says, “what was in the womb of that step of Providence, I had surely marked the day of my borrowing that book as one of the happiest days of my life.” This book set him to the study of the Hebrew accents, and it may be safely said that no Scottish minister ever studied this intricate subject with greater zeal and with more abounding prayer. In his Memoirs he tells us the story of his struggles and how he failed to get his work on the accents published. To him it was the great work of his life. His enthusiasm brought him into correspondence with some of the great continental scholars of the day. Among those who took a friendly interest in his work were Sir Robert Ellys and the Dutch scholars Schultens, Gronovius and Loftus. Boston translated his essay into Latin, but he died without seeing his hopes realized in its publication. In 1738—six years after his death—it was published at Amsterdam with the title Tractatus Stigmologicus. The main contention of the essay was to prove the divine authority of the accents. “It is something to know,” says Mr. Morrison in his introduction to the Memoirs, “and it is worthy of remembrance that the evangelical minister of Ettrick, whose works were treasured by the cottar and the herd, was welcomed as an equal by the finest Hebrew scholars in the world.” 15. Memoirs, p. 34.
In 1714 the famous Simson case began to agitate the peace of the church. Simson was professor of divinity at Glasgow. He was charged with teaching Arminianism, but the Assembly, after inquiring into the charges, allowed him to escape with a gentle reprimand. Boston was ill at ease with the Laodicean methods of the Assembly, and predicted further trouble from the same source. Nine years later Boston’s fears were realized, for now Simson was charged with Arianism. The charges, it is true, were difficult to prove, but they were sufficiently well substantiated to move the Assembly to pass sentence of perpetual suspension. Boston felt this to be trifling with a great issue, so he rose in his place in the Assembly “with an air of great majesty,” says an eye witness, “that I shall never forget,” and, addressing the Moderator: “Moderator! I cannot help thinking that the cause of Jesus Christ as to the great and essential point of His supreme Deity is at the bar of the Assembly requiring justice; and as I am shortly to answer at His bar for all that I say or do, I cannot give my assent to the decision of this act. On the contrary, I find myself obliged to offer a protest against it. And therefore, in my own name, and in the name of all that shall adhere to me, and if none here will, for myself alone, I crave leave to enter my dissent against the decision of this act.” “Sir,” said the Moderator, a very grave, solemn man, “will you tear out the bowels of your mother?” “If that were the tendency of this,” was Boston’s reply, “rather would I take and tear it into a thousand pieces.” Boston did not persist in recording his protest, so the Simson case came to an end.
In 1716 a call came to him from Closeburn, and the event is memorable for the remarkable effect it had on the people of Ettrick. All of a sudden they seemed to have realized that a prophet had been among them all these years, and to show their anxiety at the prospect of losing their pastor a fast day was appointed in which they might plead with the Head of the Church not to remove His servant from them. It was the beginning of better days. A remarkable change came over the people and the seed that was sown with tears was now beginning to bear fruit.
The next great controversy in which Boston took a part was that which raged round the Marrow of Modern Divinity. It was during his Simprin pastorate that he came across a copy of the first part of the Marrow of Modern Divinity. It was the means of clearing up some difficulties he had in preaching the gospel. Nothing was heard of the book for years until, while the Assembly was discussing the Auchterarder Creed, as it was called—”I believe it is not orthodox and sound to teach that we forsake sin in order to our coming to Christ.” Boston communicated to a fellow member of Assembly the great help he had received through reading the Marrow. Ultimately the book came into the hands of James Hög of Carnock, who published it. It was severely attacked by Principal Hadow of St. Andrews; so began the Marrow Controversy. Boston was condemned along with the other Marrowmen by the Assembly. In 1721 Boston’s two friends, Gabriel Wilson and Henry Davidson, suggested that he should write notes on the Marrow of Modern Divinity. These were finished in the following spring, but, owing to his respect for church authority, they were not published until 1726. They went forth to the world under the name of Philaletes Ireneus, and had in view the confutation of Hadow’s Antinomianism of the Marrow Detected. Boston has left on record that he was much addicted to peace and averse to controversy, but once engaged therein he was “set to go through with it.” It must have cost his sensitive spirit a great deal of pain those bitter contentions in the church courts.
Boston was now turning his face towards the setting sun, and he was not without warnings his course would soon be over. In the last decade he preached to his people a series of sermons on Affliction. These were subsequently published under the title The Crook in the Lot, being mainly founded on Eccles. vii, 13: “Consider the work of the Lord: for who can make that straight which he hath made crooked?” Many a sorrowing pilgrim has read these precious pages and felt the burden that was so heavy to bear lifted off the shoulders. Boston was a true son of consolation. The angel of death often visited his home and the tender-hearted father bowed his head in submission when the dread messenger entered in. How tender a heart he had may be gathered from the following narrative in his Memoirs: “When the child was laid in the coffin, his mother kissed his dust. I only lifted the cloth off his face, looked on it, and covered it again, in confidence of seeing that body rise a glorious body. When the nails were driving, I was moved, for I had not kissed that precious dust which I believe was united to Jesus Christ, as if I had despised it. I would fain have caused draw the nail again, but because of one that was present I resented and violated myself.” During the closing years of his life he had another great trial through the mental weakness of his wife. With eagerness the devoted husband watched for any returning gleam that might tell that the night was past. “Now we were,” he says, “with our broken ship within sight of the shore and I was like one stretching out his hand and crying, Help forward! Help forward! But behold in a little after the storm arose anew and the ship was beaten into the main ocean out of sight of land again.” But if the latter years of her life were thus darkened Boston recalled the years when she was the joy and light of his home, and he has left on record as fine a tribute as ever a husband paid to a wife. This is how he describes her: “A woman of great worth, whom I therefore passionately loved and inwardly honoured. A stately, beautiful and comely personage, truly pious, and fearing the Lord; of an evenly temper, patient in our common tribulations and under her personal distresses. A woman of bright natural parts, an uncommon stock of prudence; of a quick and lively apprehension in things she applied herself to; great presence of mind in surprising incidents; sagacious and acute in discerning the qualities of persons, and therefore not easily imposed upon; modest and grave in her deportment but naturally cheerful; wise and affable in conversation, having a good faculty at speaking, and expressing herself with assurance; endowed with singular dexterity in dictating letters; being a pattern of frugality, and wise management of household affairs; therefore entirely committed to her; well fitted for, and careful of, the virtuous education of her children; remarkably useful to the country side, both in the Merse and in the Forest through her skill in physic and surgery which in many cases, a peculiar blessing appeared to be commanded upon from heaven; and finally a crown to me in my public station and appearances. During the time we have lived together hitherto, we have passed through a sea of trouble, as yet not seeing the shore but afar off. I have sometimes been likely to be removed from her; she having little continued health, except the first six weeks, her death had oftentimes stared us in the face and hundreds of arrows had pierced my heart on that score; and sometimes I have gone with a trembling heart to the pulpit, laying my account with being called out of it, to see her expire. And now for the third part of the time we have lived together, namely ten years complete, she has been under a particular racking distress; and for several of these years, fixed to her bed; in the which furnace the grace of God in her hath been brightened, her parts continued to a wonder and her beauty which formerly was wont, upon her recoveries, to leave no vestige of the illness she had been under, doth as yet now and then show some vestiges of itself.’ 16. Memoirs, p. 157.
Boston’s labours were now nearing an end. Weakly in body and haunted often by melancholy, he persevered in the pursuit of his duties. When one looks over the record of that life, so full of noble purpose persisted in to the end, seeking the highest interests of the people committed to him, the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” come involuntarily to the lips.
Many of Boston’s works were published posthumously, and though not so popular as the Fourfold State and the Crook in the Lot, yet there is a freshness in the treatment of the subjects that make Boston’s sermons readable to the present day. An edition of his collected works was published in 1854 under the editorial care of Rev. Samuel MacMillan. This edition, which consists of twelve volumes, does not contain what Boston himself regarded as his magnum opus, the Tractatus Stigmologicus.
Boston did not live to see the Secession of 1733, having passed away peacefully on May 20, 1732. It is difficult to estimate Boston’s place as a theologian, his fame as a preacher and pastor seems to have obscured to a certain extent what belongs to him in other departments. But it is not claiming too much for him when we say that he was the Turretine of Scottish Theology. Not that his system was modelled after that of Turretine, for he was more under the influence of Witsius, but the same clear sententious treatment of doctrines characteristic of Turretine was also characteristic of Boston. In his Memoirs 17. Memoirs, p. 474, 5. he gives a pen picture of himself remarkable for its fidelity. In it he tells us: “I was not of quick apprehension; but had a gift of application; and things being once discovered, I was no more wavering in them . . . My talent lay in doing things by a close application, with pains and labour.” Boston was only 56 years when he finished his course, and, reviewing his life two years before his death, he sums up his impressions in the concluding sentences of his Memoirs: “Upon the whole, I bless my God in Jesus Christ, that ever He made me a Christian, and took an early dealing with my soul; that ever He made me a minister of the Gospel, and gave me some insight into the doctrine of His grace; that ever He gave me the blessed Bible, and brought me acquainted with the originals and especially with the Hebrew text. The world hath all along been a step-dame to me; and wheresoever I would have attempted to nestle in it, there was a thorn of uneasiness laid for me. Man is born crying, lives complaining and dies disappointed from that quarter. ‘All is vanity and vexation of spirit—I have waited for thy salvation, O Lord’.” Such is the language of a pilgrim journeying on to a better country with the pearly gates of the New Jerusalem already in sight, and as we read the expressions of gratitude ending with the mournful plaint, our thoughts turn to that life of noble endeavour, chequered as it was with so many sorrows, and feel constrained, in the words of Carlyle, 18. Oliver Cromwell V, p. 155. London, 1894. to say: “Here is a Life-battle right nobly done. Seest thou not,
The storm is changed into a calm,
At His command and will;
So that the waves which raged before
Now quiet are and still!
Then are they glad,—because at rest
And quiet now they be;
So to the haven He them brings
Which they desire to see.
We part now with one of the most intensely human and lovable Scottish pastors of the eighteenth century and pay our tribute of respect in the halting rhyme but noble appreciation of Ralph Erskine.
The great, the grave, judicious Boston’s gone
Who once like Athanasius bold, stood, firm, alone.
Whose golden pen to future times will bear
His name till in the clouds his Lord appear.
Wick, Scotland.