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Home » Publications » Free Presbyterian Magazine » 1951 » May 1951 » The late Mrs. Norman Morrison, Skigersta, Ness

The late Mrs. Norman Morrison, Skigersta, Ness

MRS. NORMAN MORRISON, widow of Norman Morrison (“The Bard”), an eminent elder in the Ness congregation, entered, we believe, the haven of her desire on Sabbath, 16th July, 1950, in her 88th year. She was of the seed of the righteous, but like the rest of Adam’s lost race, the desire of grace was not in her heart as she was by nature. In her early married life she was awakened to a sense of her sinnership—its guilt, pollution and damnation before God. The Lord in His own time granted her deliverance, for “unto God the Lord from death, the issues do belong.” The anchor of her hope for eternity was cast in the promise which is yea, and amen, in Christ Jesus, “The mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee.”

She allowed opportunities of publicly professing her faith in Christ to pass. For this the Lord rebuked her. On a Communion Sabbath in Ness, on entering the Church and seeing the Table set with white linen in preparation for the solemn ordinance, she used to tell that the words, “Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?” spoke to her. At the next Communion she came forward and was admitted to full membership. That was in October, 1910. She did not divulge to her husband that she had been before the Session. He knew nothing of the step she had taken until she arose from his side in the seat to go forward to the Table of the Lord. The Lord in His sovereignty made use of her witness as an arrow to pierce her husband’s soul. His obituary, written by the late Mr. Gillies, Stornoway, appeared in the December issue of the Magazine for 1935. For a year he was under the spirit of bondage. “The servant sent to loosen his bonds, under the hand of the Holy Spirit,” according to his obituary, “was the late Rev. Donald Graham, Shieldaig. Mr. Graham preached a sermon in Lionel, Ness, on John iii, 16, ‘For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’ God’s peace came into the heart of Norman Morrison that day, so that he walked in the joy and comfort of it for many days, and it kept his heart and mind to the end of the journey. . . . Though a man of great gifts and of fluent expression, which made him excel in public prayer and speaking, he had a humble view of his own ability and grace, which caused him to court retirement” (F.P. Magazine, Vol. XL, p. 347). He was familiarly known as “The Bard.” His compositions are of a high poetic standard. His elegy to James Finlayson, who along with Malcolm McLeod raised the standard on the side of Truth in Ness in 1893, appeared in one of the early volumes of the Magazine. He passed away to be with Christ on the 5th November, 1932.

Mrs. Morrison was adorned with the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price. The transparent sincerity of what she would say when bemoaning “want of holiness” and her need of the efficacy of the shed blood, could leave no doubt in the minds of those acquainted with her, that she bore the mark of those who cry and sigh in Zion. Sanctimonious affectation, offensive to God and to man, was not in her profession. Towards the close of her life, she passed through a very trying dispensation. With the Psalmist she could say, “Thy breaking waves pass over me, yea, and Thy billows all.” She was sorely tried. The face that was an expression of gentleness and sincerity became furrowed with sorrow and grief. A severe winter was hers before the harvest. One is reminded of the late Dr. Kennedy’s comment on the words, “Who in His cold can live?” (Ps. cxlvii)—”frost in the affections, snow in the profession and hail in one’s lot in providence.” But “He sendeth forth His mighty word, and melteth them again.” Five weeks before the end Mrs. Morrison heard the voice of her Beloved saying unto her, “Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone,” etc. The radiance of her countenance revealed that she had received the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. Tempest tossed and sorely tried though she had been by the temptations of Satan, she entered the haven of eternal rest in the full assurance of faith.

The following beautiful verses composed by her daughter Annie, feelingly express the long trial through which her mother passed:—

Chaidh thu troimh na càsan
‘S an fhasach ‘na do chuairt
Fluair thu roinn is pairt ann
De amhgharan ro chruaidh,
Ach elu do’n Ti as airde
Chuir E an aithne nuas
Na tuinn ud a bhi samhach
‘S tu an cunnart bathaidh uath.

Le croinn bhriste is siuil reubta,
Is a’ long fo gheill ‘s a’ chuan
Rinn cuid an calaidh neamhaidh dheth,
Air an eigin co ni luaidh?
Bha an oidche aca is gun reult
Na speuran is iad fo ghuaim,
Ach rinn a’ ghrian bhi ag eirigh orr’
‘S gach neul do sgap i uath.

An sin bha iad aoibhneach
Chaidh an oidche a ris air cùl,
Bha mhaduinn ùr a’ soillseachadh
Na beanntan is iad fo dhriuchd
Bha Sabaid naomh air tionndainn dhoibh
Is ceann a’ tighinn air ùin’
A steach do thir Chanaàin
Chaidh am fàilteachadh gu saor.

Cha chuimhnieh iad na h-amhgaran
‘S ann a dh’fhag iad iad ‘s an fheoil
A ris tha staid ro-bhàsmhor ac’
Thug Fear-an-graidh iad beo.
Do chuir iad sgios an fhàsaich dhiubh
‘S am pàillium so fa dheoidh,
‘S cha ghearan am fear-àiteachaidh’
Gu bheil aig cràdh no leon.

Cha’n ioghnadh ged a tha sibh
Ri gradhach Bigh na gloir,
Thug sibh a dh’ionnsuidh sabhailteachd
‘S nach d’fhag E sibh ri bron,
‘S ann a dh’ullaich E dhiubh aite
‘S tha na sràidean ann de òr,
‘S tha craobh na beatha fàs ann
Chum sasuehadh gach seors’.

Nach sona dhoibh gu’n d’rainig iad
‘S gu bheil iad sàmhach beo,
Gu’n d’fhuair iad steach do’n aros sin
Am port bu mhiannach leo.
Tha sluagh nach deanar aireamh ann
‘S cha bhàsaich iad nis mò;
As an tobar nach tig traghadh oirre
D’a glràdh bi iad ri ‘g òl.

Am Parras tha sibh aoibhneach
Leis na naoimh a’ seinn ann shuas
Air cliù an Ti a shaor sibh
O dhaorsa is o thruaigh.
Air trioblaidean is amhghar
Is bàs ‘s ann thug E buaidh,
‘S e oran molaidh Dha-san
Gu brath bi sibh ri luaidh.

Sincere sympathy is extended to the family at home and abroad in their sore bereavement.—W. M.

There are certain seasons in which the Lord comes nigh to men in the ordinances and duties of His worship, and we know not at what time the Lord cometh forth by His Spirit upon this design. He many times comes in an hour when we look not for Him; it is good, therefore, to be found in the way of the Spirit; had that poor man, that lay so long at the pool of Bethesda, reasoned thus with himself: “So long have I lain here, in vain expecting a cure, it is to no purpose to wait longer”; and so had been absent at the very time the angel came down, he had in all likelihood carried his disease to the grave with him. How dost thou know but this very sermon, this prayer, which thou art tempted to neglect may be the instrument wherein the Lord may do that for thy soul, which was never yet done to it 1.—J. Flavel, 1699.

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