By A. NAVYMAN.
(Continued from Page 299).
Now as the Lord shall bring to my remembrance, I will relate my call and conversion in my own simple way, for I knew nothing about religion of any kind, neither did I know even what the name of Jesus Christ meant; but God, in His infinite mercy, was determined I should know Him whom I had so grossly abused.
The first convictions I can remember to have had concerning my soul, was the last voyage I went, which brought me to look at the wicked life I had lived and was then living. This brought me on my knees to God, vowing that if He would be pleased to bring me safe home, and provide me something to do on shore, I would amend my life, and go to church. This I had a hope He would do, because I prayed. In the space of a year He brought me home, and agreeable to my request, found me employment. I set about to perform my vow in going to church, but the devil was too strong for me, for I soon fell into the old track of Sabbath-breaking and sinning, and carried it on to as high a pitch as ever. The Lord suffered me to go on here a little time, to show me what man is by nature, but I perceived it not. I believe I went on in the old way of sinning for two years, and when my checks of conscience troubled me, I strove to smother them by going to clubs to sing and drink. I remember I was learning some new songs when the Lord was pleased, at my work, to bring all my sins to my remembrance, which spoiled all my singing; for I was so wrought upon that I thought I should as surely be damned as I was born. It continued and I could not shake it off. My companions they came, but all would not do: I could not go with them. My wife, then being in a natural state, seeing I was distressed in my mind, cried over me, begging to know what was the matter, yea, told me she would go on her knees to me if I would but tell her. I said I could not tell her what was the matter with me, but that I believed I should go to hell. These words came on my mind, and I could not get rid of them: “What woman is there having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one piece doth not light a candle and sweep the house diligently till she find it?” Thought I, this is something of Scripture, for the Bible was a book I had not looked into for many years before, but now I did, and it brought me on my knees to God, hoping that, if I confessed and prayed to God, read my Bible and went to church, that God would have mercy upon me. However, I set to with a resolution to get no further in debt, but if possible to pay some off the old score. I inquired into those people called “Methodists,” for being away so many years, I was ignorant of the meaning of the word Methodist: I was informed they were a good set of people, such as Wesley’s and Whitefield’s. The first I found out was Wesley’s, in the City Road; I thought surely they were angels come down from Heaven, and began to think, if I went according to my resolution, God would look over what was past, and I should soon be fit for heaven; but, oh! the goodness, mercy, and loving kindness of God! He did not let me rest here; for when I was getting up to that pinnacle, He threw me down and broke all my bones by sending His law home to my heart: then I saw myself in a dreadful state, not only that I had
been a sinner, but now was, and could do nothing good. In reading the Bible, what gained my greatest attention was God’s anger against sin, and His commands to sanctify myself holy unto the Lord. Well, I inquired how a man might sanctify himself to the Lord; and was informed the people who frequented the tabernacle went there on Saturday evening to sanctify themselves against the Sabbath. When Saturday evening came I set off and went, but, when I came out, found myself more like a devil than a saint. At this time I was quite ignorant of the way of salvation by Jesus Christ: what makes me say so is because there are many who, to my knowledge, never had a change of heart and that know it is through the merits of Jesus Christ they must be saved: but then, say they, “Jesus Christ died for all,” but I was quite ignorant even of the name of Jesus Christ. These workmongers set me many tasks to do. I began to read the Bible and pray to God, as I called it, and worked hard, too, till at last I began to feel such enmity spring up in my heart that I said in this wise, “Surely God is a hard God! for He sets man to do more than he is able. Why should He be so hard with a creature that He has made?” I laboured under this for a long time, yet durst not utter the hard thoughts and enmity I had against Him.
I became acquainted with one man in particular, and would have given the world if I had been as good as he. Said I, if I tell that man what I feel, he will doubtless condemn me, and then I will give it all up. Accordingly, when we met again, I told him what I felt, what enmity I had against God and His Word. He seemed surprised, and, upon my asking him if he ever felt anything of the kind, he answered me very sternly, “No! God forbid that I should have enmity against God or His Word.” He left me wounded. Well, thought I, condemned I shall be, do what I will, and then began to quarrel with myself for living such a wicked life, and with my mother for not correcting me when I ran away from my master. Had I stayed with him, I might have went to church and lived a better life than I have done; but, it is too late now. I shall be condemned! I cannot repent, well, I will give it up and think no more about it. Once I set off to get drunk, but surely I felt a hell in my conscience at the same time. I laboured here a great while, frequenting a chapel in East Smithfield, called the Mulberry Gardens, in the Countess of Huntingdon’s connection. At this time I was so ignorant that I did not know they would grant me a ticket for a seat, so skulked about like a thief. Rev. J. Jenkins preached there at that time, but I was afraid to speak to anyone about my state. However, one evening, I shall never forget it, a woman who attended there would force her conversation upon me and drew from me many things concerning my distress, which I did not think to speak of, but I had no sooner left her than I was seized with such violent temptations as I never
felt. It was to run down the Tower Hill, right into the Thames, and drown myself. I really thought that the devil ran away with me, for I ran against several people and have no doubt but I knocked them down. I have viewed the spot many a time since where I stopped. I ran against a large post, and clung fast hold of it, as if anybody had drove me, and believe I foamed at the mouth like a mad dog till I had vent. Then I burst into tears, went up a little passage, and suppose I cried for a quarter of an hour, after which I found some composure of mind. I set off, viewing my sad state, and washed my face at a pump, that my wife might not perceive I had been weeping, for at this time the devil set her on to persecute me, and sometimes we would quarrel, yea, fight, but, notwithstanding I was in this state, there were seasons that I preached closely to her what I felt, read the Bible to her, and also the Prayer-Book, though I did not believe she was so bad as I was, yet I never could get her to bend the knee to God, but, blessed be God forever, he made use of me as an instrument to bring her on her knees not many months after, when she found herself in as bad a pickle as I was, and then the devil did make a hand of us with a witness, for there is nobody but the Lord knows the snares, gins, and traps he laid for us. Here I a long time laboured under the law, without having the least view of Jesus Christ. The Lord next led me to meditate what Jesus Christ was, and where I could find His name in the Bible. I pondered it over, for it seemed something new to me. I was led, step by step, to see that He came to save sinners; then, thought I, I am a sinner, but then I am too bad.
After much labour here I heard somebody speaking about a new birth. I could not make out this at all, thinking we must be so changed by the Holy Ghost as to be perfect in thought, word, and deed. However, one summer evening, I went into Moorfields where a man had been preaching and, finding two men arguing with each other, I drew near like a condemned criminal to hear what they had to say and whether they touched my case. One of them observed, “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the Truth is not in us.” To which the other replied, the words run thus: “If we say we have not sinned, we make Him a liar, and the Truth is not in us.” Intimating that they had been sinners, but now freed from sin in the flesh; that they which had received the grace of God were perfectly holy. They loaded me pretty well, agreeable to the Lord’s words, “They bind heavy burdens on men’s shoulders, which are grievous to be borne.” Thought I, if it be possible for men to arrive at a state of perfection, they certainly must be the people, and I am far enough from that. Well, I strove hard, prayed oftener, went to chapel oftener, read the Bible oftener, and thought, if this will not do I will give it up, and I declare I found enmity in my heart all the time I was at it, but
shortly the Lord would frustrate the whole of it. I would fall into some sin, and then I came to my old conclusion, I shall be condemned after all.
I often say what a peculiar blessing it is from God to be placed under a pastor that can point out the way to a poor entangled creature, but the Lord knows I never met with any that ever spoke to my feelings till he placed me under you (Rev. W. Huntington). For if they did at anytime touch upon it, they pulled it all to pieces before they had done. However, the Lord carried on His work, and, after this toiling and fretting, the blessed Spirit was pleased to open the eyes of my understanding to discern in some measure the Way of Salvation through Jesus Christ, and that He came to seek and to save sinners, and I felt myself one of the blackest cast; but then it was, “He that believes shall be saved, and he that believes not shall be damned.” And I could not believe that Christ would save me; I could believe that He would damn me, this I could believe. The common cry among my associates was, “Why do you not believe?” Only believe, say they, and the work is done. Well, I strove to believe, and would with all my soul if I could, and, when I found I could not, enmity began to work afresh. After the Lord had disciplined me here a little, I learnt that faith in Jesus Christ was the gift of God, and that He gave it to a people of His choice; that He had a people formed for Himself. The bitterness that worked in my heart at this is beyond expression. Oh! said I, it ought not to be preached! But, blessed be God, it is now my sweetest morsel, when I can feel in my soul His great love from everlasting to me. I laboured here for near four years, and then the Lord was pleased to enable me to see more and more of the suitableness of Jesus Christ. That God was holy and I unholy; that justice must have satisfaction on me the sinner, or on Jesus Christ, the Surety. I could discern Him coming down from heaven in love to His people, taken our nature into union with Himself, and dying the just for the unjust, that sinners might, through His satisfaction, come near to God. My prayers were then altered and my views quite different to what they were; there was a kind of going after Him. It was no use to set me to work then; my cry was, Oh! that I knew Him for myself! and there was such a desire stirred up in my soul that, night and day, my language was, O! that He would but make known His love to me! Such longing desires had I after Him at that time. For viewing myself on the brink of hell, I wanted a manifestation of Him to me, that I might know whether he had loved me from everlasting; and being assured of this I could believe on Him, and love Him with all my heart and soul: nothing but this would do, after this I sought, and for this I prayed—indeed it was the whole tenor of my prayers. But the Lord appeared to delay His coming. I began to be reluctant, unbelief began to work again, and I came
to my old conclusion, I believe it is only a delusion after all! I have had a little hope for some time, but I have been deceiving myself: If He had ever loved me, He would let me know it. I cannot look at my well-spent life, for of sinners I am the blackest. I know I deserve hell, and He would be just in sending me there, but know where I belong to I must, and shall never rest till I do know. These were my meditations. But, bless Him forever more, one morning I was on my knees at the bedside, to describe what I felt I cannot; but, what with sweat and tears, and the agony I was in, I believe my hair stood upright on my head while I was praying. In that condition these words came to me, like a voice to my soul: “Be of good cheer, thy sins are forgiven thee.” I turned myself round, as if the Lord had been behind me, and said, Lord, what! my sins that are past? I am a sinner yet, and immediately these words were applied to my soul, “The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin.” What I felt none can express with the tongue. But, oh! the joy, love, and peace that flowed in my soul. I could hardly believe I was the same person. I was full of nothing but praises and thanksgiving to Jesus, for I believed assuredly then that He loved me from everlasting, and bore all my sins in His own body on the tree. This continued promise upon promise, night and day, sleeping and waking, my soul was with Him, yea, I claimed every promise in the Bible. I feared nothing, nor cared for nothing but the Lord Jesus Christ. He was my song night and day. The Lord did so abundantly bless my soul at times that I have told him, though in ignorance, Lord, this is more than I ever asked for, and more than I ever expected: this is sufficient, I shall doubt no more, for this is more than ever man could expect or desire. But still the Lord continued it, for I was, I believe, near a twelvemonth in this state; and, bless the Lord forever, He has not left me without feeling a sense of it to this day, for whenever the Lord is pleased to lead my views to the atonement, that I can view Jesus suffering for me, my heart is broke; and I cannot help it, whether it be under the Word preached or reading the Bible, or on my knees, or at my work, I am often wondered at. But to see what He has saved me from, the vilest of all wretches living! Oh! that I could live more to the honour and glory of His blessed name! A little before the Lord was pleased to bring me into trial of that faith He had given me, I had a vision which I never shall forget while in the flesh, and I will endeavour, as the Lord shall enable me, to describe it. I went on my knees one morning, according to custom before I went about my daily employ, and found great nearness to the Lord in prayer: but all on a sudden, I was caught away in my mind, forgetting I was on my knees, and viewed myself in a bright shining cloud that the sun was ready to shine through. I lay on my side in the cloud with my eyes fixed on some writing which lay at the bottom of it. At this time I was pleading with
the Lord His promises, telling Him of His promised Blessings, His faithfulness, goodness, mercy and love. My eyes were fixed on the writing as if they had been these words applied, “Believest thou this?” I would break out and say, Yes, Lord, I believe that Thou wilt be faithful to all that Thou hast promised. I would plead again. The word was the same in my mind, “Believest thou this?” I still told Him I did believe it. This was applied several times. I was then led to see my vileness, and this passage of Scripture was brought to my mind: “I am a man of unclean lips: my eyes have seen the king, the Lord of Hosts.” But when I came to myself I was in a comical posture, for my head was turned round on my shoulder, and I was very wet, I suppose with tears; but this did not work a slavish fear in my heart, for as yet my soul was alive to the Lord Jesus. I considered what it all could mean, and soon after this the Lord, by little and little, began to withdraw His comfortable presence. I could not have communion with Him as usual. I sought Him with all my soul, but could not find His comfortable presence. I then began to find such blasphemous thoughts, and the corruptions of my heart began to ferment, no God apparently at hand, and unbelief stepping in, I began to call all in question, whether the work was of God or not, for this was what I never more expected to find.
I then sat under Mr. W., whose chapel is near to Lincolns Inn Fields, and when I could not find the Lord, I sought some of the established Christians, as I thought, who belonged to that church. Some told me, if they had experienced the love they heard me speak of, they should never be in the state I was in: others said I had forsaken their company, and I certainly must keep bad company. I then went to Mr. W., the minister, and he really laughed at me, and said I must look to Jesus. I told him I could not find Him; and, said I, if I could but look to Him I would not have come to you. In this state I laboured for I believe near six months, and nobody knows what I suffered but God and myself, except those that have felt the same. At times I have found my rebellion stirred up, that I have secretly wished that somebody would come and stab me, and kill me out of my misery. I have jumped out of bed in the night when these blasphemous thoughts were hurled through me, gone on my knees, and prayed God if I was not in the bond of the covenant never to suffer me to get off my knees again, but send me to hell where I deserved to go, but no answer. Sometimes I would get into a private place, go on my knees with humbleness of heart, and cry thus, “Lord, decide this matter once more between Satan and me.” I have broke out sometimes, “I do know the Lord, I am sure I do.” I have argued with the devil an hour or two on a stretch, I have given all up to him of my experience till I have come to my deliverance, where the Lord spoke peace to my soul; but I never could give up that,
for, blessed be the Lord, He kept me, or Satan would have had his end.
Well, I was brought at last to this conclusion, now I will never speak to any person more about my experiences for I believe there is nobody in the world knows anything about it. “No,” says the devil, “you were never yet delivered nor can you find any one person that was delivered from the bondage of the law ever brought into such a state as you are in.” Upon which I thus concluded: “Well, if I belong to God He will keep me from these evils; but if not, the devil will have his ends, for I am certain I cannot keep myself.”
(To be continued.)
The late Mrs. W. J. MacDonald, Stornoway.
Isabella Morrison was born at Ness, Lewis, in the year 1868. She was the eldest child in a family of eight. She came of a godly stock. Both her parents gave evidence of true piety, her father being a deacon with the godly Rev. Duncan MacBeth, Free Church minister at that time in the parish. Someone has said that although godliness does not run in the blood, it often runs in families. The two grandfathers of Miss Morrison were regarded as gracious men. One of them, Angus Graham, was reputed to be the strongest man in Lewis in his day. At the age of 77 he was preparing to go to America for the third time.
In parting with the Free Church minister of Strath Carron, Rev. Nicol Nicolson, who was on a visit to Lewis at the time, the latter said to him, “Dear friend, we will never meet again till the Judgment Day, and unless you have Christ what will your great strength do you? You were said to be the strongest man ever born in Lewis, but what will that strength do you if you die without a Saviour? It were better you had never been born.” The tears trickled down his cheeks and, putting his arms round the neck of the minister, he kissed him and said, “I will never forget your faithful advice to me.” From the testimony of godly witnesses who knew him subsequently it appears that Angus was a changed man from then on.
For some time, as a young girl, Miss Morrison served in the manse of Mr. MacBeth, where she daily witnessed the life and example of true godliness. Only the Day of Judgment will reveal the eternal blessings which arise from early association with true piety in the home. Those are greatly privileged who enjoy such blessings in early life.
During this time she heard from her minister a sermon on Romans i, 16, “I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ.” This sermon left a deep impression on the young girl’s mind.
Like many other godly men and women belonging to the Free Church of his day, Mr. MacBeth was well aware of the grave departures from the truth in doctrine, practice and discipline which had begun to be all too apparent in the church he loved and served. These ominous declensions caused him the greatest foreboding and sorrow, and he warned his people against them. To young Isobel he said, “The clouds are darkening, the storm is gathering. I should not wish to be alive when it happens; but should only three take up a stand on the side of Truth in the parish of Ness, see to it that you be one of them. The day will come when you will have to meet the people of the parish, many of them your own co-ages, going one way while you go the opposite way, and they will try to persuade you to go with them, but be sure you will not yield to them.” Young Isobel never forgot these words, and the time came after Mr. MacBeth had been gathered to his fathers, that she had cause to remember them.
In 1893 Miss Morrison, now a woman of 25, had left her native parish and was living in Stornoway. For all those who had an interest in the Cause of Christ those were stirring days. The Declaratory Act had been passed in 1892. The following year by the protest of the Rev. D. MacFarlane, the Free Presbyterian Church of Scotland was called into being to preserve the heritage and testimony of the Reformed Church in Scotland in unbroken continuity, and to hand it down to future generations. Some seriously thinking people in Stornoway were sympathetic to the movement. A meeting of those was to be held in the Drill Hall. Miss Morrison had heard of the proposed meeting and the news placed her in a very difficult position. She knew in her heart that it must be either the Church or the Drill Hall. If the Church, could she continue her connection with it and keep a clean conscience? If, on the other hand, it was to be the Drill Hall, how could she face up to the opposition and possibly the scorn and hatred of some who had previously been among her most intimate friends? The problem was one inseparable from the question of the day and many others in different parts of Scotland were faced with it.
In this perplexity Miss Morrison reached a corner of the street where the next step would commit her one way or the other. She stood for a moment pondering; it was then that the advice of her former minister, the Rev. Duncan MacBeth, came warmly and powerfully home to her heart. This was accompanied with the text which had previously impressed her, “I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ.” Needless to say the truth prevailed and Miss Morrison, guided as by a necessity which would take no denial, found her steps leading her to the Drill Hall. She learned afterwards that, all unknown to her, her father in Ness had passed through a similar experience and had made a similar decision. He
was one of the ‘two or three’ who upheld the cause of truth there, and formed themselves into a congregation of the Church which afterwards came to be known as the Free Presbyterian Church of Scotland.
We can only imagine the deep satisfaction experienced by both father and daughter in learning that each had been guided to make the same decision on such an important issue quite independently of each other.
The events of the following 63 years provided many occasions which severely tested the loyalty and faithfulness of those attached to the cause and testimony of the Free Presbyterian Church; but from her early choice Miss MacDonald never wavered. At the age of 85 years, when in her last illness, it was a pleasure, both edifying and instructive, to listen to her recalling the events of 63 years before. Her memory then was clear and precise, and the happy and animated manner in which she related these events gave unmistakeable evidence of her intense satisfaction for the part she had been led to take in them.
Of the circumstances concerning Mrs. MacDonald’s conversion we have no information, but in 1924 she was constrained to make a public profession of her love to the Redeemer. She had great delight in the House of God, and as long as she was fit and, indeed, sometimes when she was not very fit, she diligently attended the services on Sabbath and week-days.
At the age of 26 Miss Morrison was united in marriage to Mr. W. J. MacDonald, who later settled at Stonefield Farm outside Stornoway. Of this union there were born in all seven children. Like all the children of a simple parentage, Mrs. MacDonald knew the bitterness of sorrow. She lost her first child in infancy, and her husband died in 1923, leaving her a widow for the remaining 34 years of her life. During her later years she suffered acutely. Her sufferings and sorrows were borne with gracious submission to the will of God, and even while in great pain, as she often was, she found occasion to speak of the Lord’s goodness and mercy to such a poor, unworthy creature as she knew and felt herself to be.
Over a long period of helplessness she was faithfully and affectionately nursed by the members of her family at home, especially by her daughter Margaret. To all who knew her, and especially to those attending her, she has left an example sweetly savouring of the grace of God and of the spirit of Christ.
On Thursday, the 22nd day of August, 1957, in her 89th year, Mrs. MacDonald entered into rest, and her earthly remains were committed to the grave to await the trumpet of the Resurrection Morning. “So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption; and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be
brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting: O grave, where is thy victory?”
We take this opportunity of expressing our sympathy with all those members of the family who are left to mourn. J.A.T.
Searmonan.
Leis an Urr. Tearlach C. Mac an Tòisich, D.D.
SEARMON XII.
“Mar an ceudna tha mi ag ràdh ribh, Tha gàirdeachas an làthair ainglean Dhé air son aon pheacach a ni aithreachas.”—Lúcas xv. 10.
Air bhi do na cis-mhaoir agus do na peacaich air an tarruig le searmonachadh Iosa, agus air a’ misneachadh le ‘ioraslachd agus le ‘mhacantas, nochd iad deigh neo-àbhaisteach air a bhi air an teagasg leis. Ach rinn na sgriobhaichean agus na Phairisich gearain, ag ràdh, “Tha’m fear so a’ gabhail pheacach da ionnsuidh, agus ag itheadh maille riutha.” Leis na briathran so bha iad a cumail a mach na’m b’ann bho Dhia a bha Iosa gu’n cuireadh E air falbh daoine aig an robh a leithid sin de chliu, agus gu’n canadh E riubh, “Fan agad fein, na tig am fagusg dhòmh-sa, oir is mise is naoimhe na thusa.” Bhitheadh e gu maith na’n robh iad a seachnadh cuideachd nan cismhaoir tre eagal onarach a bhith fulung cron, agus uime sin ga’m fàgail aca-san a b’urrain deiligeadh riutha a chùm a bhi ga’n gairm gu aithreachas, ach ‘s ann a bha iad air an glusad le spiorad uaimhreach agus féineil. Cha deanadh iad aon chuid meadhonan a chleachdadh a chum iompachadh an co-pheacach, na an Slànuighear a mhisneachadh ‘n ‘a obair. Ann a bhi toirt fa’n car cia cho fad agus a bha giùlain Iosa ‘n a eiseimpleir dhùinne, feumaidh sinn a ghiùlain ‘n ar n’ inntinnean gu’n robh E eu-comasach a bhi air a thruailleadh. Cha’n e dleasdanas a Chriosdudh comunn a chumail ri peacaich fhollaiseach; “sgriosair companach n’an amadan.” Ach ‘s e a dhleasdanah cùram a bhi aige dha’n anamaibh; agus mur eil e air a ghairm gu dreach gu bhi saothrachadh air son an iompachaidh, bhuineadh dhà bhi’g ùrnuigh air an son agus a misneachadh na muinntir a tha.
‘Nis, ‘s e na cosamhlachdan a tha air an cur sios anns a chaibideil so freagairt ar Tighearna do ghearaibh nam Phairiseach. Tha E ga’m freagairt air an grùnd féin. Bha E dol an ceann fhiar obair Féin, mar neach a thainig a ghairm pheacach gu aithreachas. Mar an robh na Phairisich a cur feum air aithreachas, car son a bha iad a faotainn coire Dhà-san air son E bhi’g iarruidh iompachadh na muinntir a bha araon a cur feum air, agus ag aideachadh am feum air? Bha neach eil a deanamh aoibhneis ‘n ‘a obair, agus a soirbheachadh. Ma bha, an àite a bhi deanamh aoibhneis, iad a’ gearain agus a càineadh, thug iad le sin fianuis nach robh co-fhaireachadh aca ri neamh, gur e cealgairean a bh’annta, agus, uime sin, nach robh aon a bu mhotha feum air aithreachas na iadsan. Tha’m Fear-saoraidh, ann a bha rùsgadh an cealgaireachd, a toirt a mach cho mòr agus cho luachmhor ‘s a tha iompachadh.
“Agus labhair esan an cosamhlachd so riu, ag ràdh, Co an duine dhìbhse aig am bheil ceud caora, ma chailleas e aon diubh, nach fàg an naoi deug agus an ceithir fichead anns an fhàsach, agus nach teid an deigh na caorach a chailleadh, gus am faigh e i? agus air dha a faotainn, cuiridh e air a ghuaillean i le gàirdeachas. Agus an uair a thig e dhachaidh, gairmidh e a chàirdean agus a choimhearsnaich an ceann a chéile, ag ràdh riu, Deanamh gàirdeachas maille riumsa a chionn gu’n d’thuair mi
mo chaora bha caillte. Mar sin tha mi ag ràdh ruibh, gu’m bi aoibhneas air neamh air son aon pheacach a ni aithreachas, na’s motha na air son naoi deug agus ceithir fichead firean, aig nach eil feum air aithreachas. No co a bhean aig am bheil deich buinn airgid, ma chailleas i aon bhonn diubh, nach las coinneal, agus nach sguab an tigh, agus nach iarr gu dichiollach gus am faigh i e? Agus air dhith fhaotainn, gairmidh i a ban-chàirdean agus a ban-choimhearsnaich an ceann a cheile, ag ràdh, Deanamh gairdeachas leam-sa, oir thuair mi am bonn a chaill mi. Mar an ceudna tha mi ag ràdh rìbh. Tha gairdeachas an lathair ainglean Dhé air son aon pheacach a ni aithreachas.”
Tha ceisd ag eirigh a thaobh an tomhas do dh’eolas a th’aig na h-ainglean agus aig a mhuinntir shaorta a thaobh ciod a tha dol air adhart air an talamh. Tha fios againn gu’m bheil na h-ainglean a chuir an ceill breith Chriosd, a fhritheil Dhà ‘n a bhuaireadh, a neartaich E ‘n a chruaidh-ghleachd, a chuir an ceill aiseirigh, agus a bha maille ris ‘n a dhol suas gu glòir, ‘n an “spioradan frithealaidh air an cur a mach chùm frithealaidh dhaibh-san a bhitheas ‘n an oighreachan air slàinte. Agus tha h-uile aobhar againn a bhi smuainteachadh, an deigh am frithealaidh fodh chomhair na Righ-chathrach, gur e so an obair is urramaich agus is taitniche a th’aca. Tha fios againn, mar an ceudna, nach eil anamaibh nan naoimh a chaidh dhachaidh a cadal gus an aiseirigh; agus nach eil iad, ann a’meadhon glòir an t-seallaidh bheannaicht’, gun suim aca do chùisean am bràithrean a tha cur na comhraig a chuir iad-san aon uair ann an gleann nan deur so, agus a tha iad a miannachadh an deigh an co-chomunn. Tha iad nan neul de dh’fhianuisean, ga’n cuartachadh-san a tha ruith reis a Chriosduidh. Agus am feadh a tha iad, ann an dòchas aoibhneach, a feitheamh ris an uchd-mhacachd, eadhon saorsa a chuirp, mar sin tha iad a miannachadh air son iomlanachd corp diomhair Chriosd, ‘n uair a philleas saor-dhaoine an Tighearn agus a thig iad gu Sion le caithream, agus aoibhneas siorruidh air an cinn: ‘n uair a gheibh iad aoibhneas agus subhachas, agus a theicheas bròn agus osnaich air falbh. Cha’n urrain e bhi, uime sin, gu’m bheil iad air am fàgail ann an aineolas air staid aobhar Chriosd air an talamh. Tha e air a dheanamh ro-shoilleir dhuinn, bho chuibrionnabh eile de’n fhoical, gu’m bheil fios air a thoirt air na freasdalan, aoibhnach na uamhasach, air am bheil Dia toirt a bhi’g oibreachadh chùm buaidh an aobhair sin air a cheann mu dheireadh. Agus tha’n earrann so a toirt barantas dhuinn co-dhiubh an uibhr so a ràdh, gu’m bheil aithreachas aon pheacach na ni cho mòr agus gu’m bheil e’g aobhrachadh aoibhneas air neamh.
Neamh. Cia cho aineolach ‘s a tha sinn air neamh. Cia cho aineolach ‘s a tha iad air, eadhon a tha toirt barachd ann a bhi miannachadh as deigh a fois agus a beannachd. Ann an so chi sinn gu dorch tre ghoine; ach an sin aghaidh ri aghaidh. Ach ‘s aithne dhuinn an uibhir so, gur ann an sin a tha glòir Dhé gu sònraicht’ air a foillseachadh, gu’m bheil Iehobhah-Iosa ann an sin air fhaicinn ‘n ar nàdur mar an t-Uan ann a’meadhon na Righ-chathrach; gur ann an sin a tha naomhachd agus gràdh naomh a gabhail còmhnuidh-gràdh baraicht’ agus iomlan do Dhia, agus gràdh iomlan do aon a cheile; agus gur ann an sin a tha aoradh agus seirbhis air an toirt do Dhia. gun sgios, gun stad, agus gun pheacadh. Agus ‘s aithne dhuinn an uibhir so mar an ceudna, nach ann air son aobharan beag, neo-airidh, suarach, a bhitheas aoibhneas air neamh. ‘Nis, tha aoibhneas an sin “air son aon pheacach a ni aithreachas.”
Amhairceadh-mid le urram a stigh an so, agus feoraicheadh-mid car son. Dh’fhaodadh e bhi ‘n a fheagairt ni’s leoir a ràdh, gur ann le bhi toirt pheacach gu aithreachas a tha obair mhòr na saorsa, obair mhòr Dhé, air a cur air adhart. B’e “aithreachas” cuspair searmonachaidh seirbhisich Dhé fodh linn an t-Seann Tiomnuidh, cuspair searmonachaidh roimh-ruithear Chriosd, agus Chriosd Fein, a thainig “cha’n ann a ghairm
na’m firean, ach na’m peacach gu aithreachas,” agus na’n Abstol a thug fianuis mu “aithreachas a thaobh Dhé, agus creidimh a thaobh ar Tighearn Iosa Criosd”; agus feumaidh e bhi ‘n a chuspair ar searmonachaidh-ne fathasd, gu’m feum daoiné aithreachas a dheanamh, agus toradh iomchuidh an aithreachais a thoirt a mach. ‘Nis, do bhrigh gu’n do dheilbh Dia ann an obair na saorsa, cha’n e mhàin slàinte pheacach chaillte de’n t-sliocht da’m buin sinn, ach, mar an ceudna, gu bhi foillseachadh do “uachdaranachdan agus do chumhachdan ann an ionadaibh neamhaidh” a ghliocas eugsamhla agus saoibhreas do-labhairt a ghrais, agus mar is ann ‘n uair a tha obair Criosd a toirt buaidh ann an iompachadh pheacach a chùm Dhé a tha so ann an iomlanachd air fhoillseachadh, faodaidh sinn fhaicinn car son a tha aoibhneas ‘n a meag thairis air aon pheacach a ni aithreachas.
Oir—1. Tha aithreachas air a chompanachadh le slàinte. Is ann a “chum beatha” tha e; is e h-ann a bhi faotainn an ni bha caillte, a bhi’g aiseag gu beatha a’ ni bha marbh. Ma theid a’ neach nach dean aithreachas gu cinnteach a dhìth, bithidh a’ neach a ni aithreachas gu cinnteach air a thearnadh; cha’n ann, gu dearbh, air sgàth feart na eufachd ann an aithreachas gu bhi cosnad maitheanas, na gu bhi deanamh dhaoine iomchuidh air a shon—tha’n t-aithreachas a tha’g amharc air son maitheanas anns an doigh so, na aithreachas meallta agus neo-luachmhor—ach do bhrigh gu’m bheil creidimh (tre’m bheil sinn a faotainn maitheanas peacaidh) agus aithreachas gu neo-sgaraichte air an ceangal ri cheile; agus do bhrigh gur e aithreachas slàinte air tòiseachadh, ann am fior sheadh slàinte—pilleadh an anama ri Dia, tòiseachadh naomhachaidh.
A mhàin cumadh-mid air chuimhne gur e’n t-aithreachas a tha ‘n a tòiseachadh naomhachaidh, aithreachas a tha, mar an ceudna, ga leantuin ‘n a dhòl air adhart, agus a tha leantuin ann am beo-chleachdadh gus am bheil an Criosduidh air a shaoradh bho’n pheacadh, an ni a tha’g aobhrachadh bròn. Oir tha aobhar eagail gu’n bheil mòran a tha fantuin riaraicht’ le seorsa aithreachais a bha’n cuideachd an ceud iarruidh an deigh Criosd, ach a sguir a bhi faotainn cleachdadh; ged a tha, air an làimh eile, fior aithreachas ann, a tha bròn thairis air cho staoin agus a tha’n aithreachas, agus a tha air am buaireadh, gu’n aobhar, gu bhi toirt àite do mhi-mhisneachd. Gabhadh iad so gràin, da-rìreadh, a chionn gu’m bheil iad a bròn cho beag thairis air an ni sin is fuathach le Dia, agus a chosg uibhir do Criosd; ach ma tha iad a miannachadh as deigh cridhe briste air son peacaidh, agus cridhe air a dhealachadh ri peacadh, amhairceadh iad Ris-san a tha air àrdachadh gu bhi toirt aithreachais, agus a chumas a chuid Féin a bròn air son peacaidh gus, le a làmhan Féin, a shiabas E gach deur air falbh bho’n suilean gu bràth.
Tha aoibhneas, uime sin, air ncamh thairis air aon pheacach a ni aithreachas, do bhrigh gu’m bheil aithreachas agus slàinte ceangailte. Tha’n TIGHEARNA a mionnachadh air Fein nach eil tlachd aig ann am bas an aingidh, ach gu’m pilleadh an t-aingidh bho shlighe agus gu’m bitheadh e beo. Tha E gràsmhor; is gràdh E. Cha’n ann a chionn nach eil E neo-chriochnach gràdhach a tha ifrinn ann, ach a chonn gu’m bheil E neo-chriochnach ceart mar an ceudna. Is ann a chionn gu’m bheil E neo-chriochnach gràsmhor a tha trócair a faotainn cleachdadh ‘n ar saoghal seachranach-ne. Bha gach aon pheacach a ni aithreachas air a ghràdhachadh leis le gràdh siorruidh: uime sin, le coimhneas gràdhach tha E ga dhùsgadh, ga leoin, ga ioraslachadh, agus ga tharruig; agus mar sin tha E deanamh gairdeachas thairis air le ceol. Tha a chreutairean naomh a giùlain iomhaigh; tha iadsan mar an ceudna nan gràdh: uime sin tha iad a deanamh gairdeachas thairis air saorsa a pheacaich bho thruaigh gun chrìch, agus thairis air e thighinn gu bhi ‘n a oighre air an lànachd do dh’aoibhneas air am bheil iad fein fiosrach. Tha iad a deanamh gairdeachas thairis air ùr-chleachdadh agus buaidh gràidh saoraich àrd-uachdaranail.
Cha’d fhairich iad riamh gu dearbh pianntan ifrinn, ach tha mothachadh soilleir aca air an uamhas mar nach urrain a bhi aig neach air thalamh; agus is aithne dhoibh ‘n am fein-fhiosrachadh fein ciod e beannachdan neamh; uime sin, tha iad a deanamh gairdeachais thairis air saorsa a pheacaich, a ni aithreachas, bho losgadh siorruidh, agus thairis air e bhi air a dheanamh freagarach air son oighreachd nan naomh ‘s an t-solus.
(R’a leantuinn.)