Remember The Sabbath Day
A few years before the death of the late Lord Braxfield, one of the Lords of Session, when he and another of the judges were on
the autumnal circuit, the court met on a Saturday at one of the country towns, where the assizes are usually held. After going through the customary forms, and doing some business of no great importance, they adjourned till Monday. At the close of the meeting, one of the jurymen, a gentleman of large fortune, earnestly requested the judges to permit him to go home. The only answer he received was a pressing invitation to dine with them, which he promised to do, adding, that he hoped they would have the goodness to allow him to leave town in the evening. The company at the dinner was very numerous. The two judges sat at the head of the table. Several lawyers, and many gentlemen, besides the magistrates of the burgh, were present. Not long after dinner, the gentleman above mentioned renewed his request and very earnestly begged their lordships would give him leave to go home.
“What is all your hurry to get home,” said Lord Braxfield, “why should not you remain here as well as the others, and do your duty to your country?” “My Lord,” replied the gentleman, “I shall tell you: This year I am a great farmer; a good deal of my corn is cut down, and, owing to the bad weather which we have had for some time past, I fear that much of it is in a sad condition. Yesterday and to-day the weather has been much better, and I daresay by to-morrow some of it will be ready to take in.” “Surely,” said Lord Braxfield, “you do not mean to make your servants take in corn on Sabbath?” “I do, my Lord,” answered the gentleman, “and I don’t think they can be better employed than in saving the fruits of the earth, for the use of man and beast. I am persuaded that God Almighty will be better pleased to see them employed in that useful work, than attending any church whatever; and it is my decided opinion, that at this season, especially in such broken weather as we have had for some time past, the country people should be enjoined, instead of going to church, to improve every Sabbath, when the weather is good, in removing to the barnyard all the corn that is fit for taking in.” Before he had finished this last sentence, Lord Braxfield drew himself forward on his chair with considerable agitation; and looking at him in a manner that showed he was not pleased, he said, with an elevated tone, that produced a complete silence in the company, and in that broad Scottish accent which his Lordship commonly used, and which sometimes gave a particular emphasis to what he said—”Sir! you are surely not thinking what you are saying. Were you to do what you propose, it would, in the first place, be such an outrage, such a gross violation of the laws of your country, as should not be suffered to pass unpunished;
and if any of His Majesty’s justices of the peace near you, did not lay your feet fast, they would not do their duty. In the second place, sir, it would be a most gross violation of the commandments of Almighty God; and it is absurd to say, He will be better pleased to see us and our servants breaking His commandments than keeping them. Besides, sir, in the third place, your conduct would discover such a distrust in the Providence of God, as a man that calls himself a Christian should at least think shame to own. Sit still, sir, where you are, for you shall not get away till the business of the court is over in this place.” As his Lordship said this, his colleague (the late Sir Thomas Miller, afterwards President of the Court of Session), laying his hand on Lord Braxfield’s shoulder, and smiling, said to him, “My Lord, I always knew that your Lordship was a great lawyer, but I did not know before that you were so great a divine.” “As long as I live,” resumed Lord Braxfield in his warm, animated tone, “I shall think it my duty to set my face against all unnecessary working on the Sabbath-day. If a flood come down, and your grain is in danger of being carried away and lost, certainly your people cannot be better employed than in saving it. Works of real necessity must be done. It is their duty, then, to work, rather than go to church; but for people to lead in corn on Sabbath, when there is no urgent necessity for it, is what I hope will never be tolerated in a Christian country.”
Truth, Lord, Yet
‘S bochd gu’n dalladh ar deoir air son ar ‘n àmhghairean, sinn cho mòr agus nach leir dhuinn ar tròcairean agus ar ‘n aobharan comhfhurtachd. Cha leig mi cudthrom air an tròcair sin bhur beath bhi air a thoirt dhuibh mar chobhartach, na fathasd air na tròcairean soilleir agus lionmhor, na comhfhurtachdan agus na comhnuidhean aimseireil, a tha sibh a sealbhachadh os ceann na bha riamh aig Criosd agus a sheirbhisich luachmhor, air nach robh an saoghal airidh.
Ach ciod a tha sibh ag ràdh ri maitheanas peacaidh? còir ann an Criosd? co-cheangal a gheallaidh? agus siorruidheadh de
shonas, ann an làthair Dhé an deigh beagan de làithean a dhol seachad? O nach bochd gu’m biodh sluagh aig am bheil còir air a leithid sin de thròcairean, a fannachadh fodh àmhghair aimseireil air bith, na gu’m biodh iad cho mòr fodh chùram air son gruaim dhaoine, agus call nithean faoin. Cha’n eil agaibh meas dhaoine mòr, ach tha agaibh deagh-ghean an Dé mhòir; tha sibh, faodaidh e bhi, air bhur tilgeadh sios a thaobh nithean aimseireil, ach air bhur ‘n adhartachadh a thaobh nithean spioradail. Cha’n urrain sibh bhur beatha a chaitheamh cho sona, cho sòghail, agus cho furasda, agus a b’abhaisit dhuibh; ach fathasd faodaidh sibh a caitheamh cho naomh agus cho neamhaidh ‘s a rinn sibh riamh; am bi sibh mar sin a bròn cho mòr thairis air na suidhichidhean sin, agus gu’n dì-chuimhnich sibh na nithean anns am bheil suspainn? An toir àmhghairean aotrom oirbh a bhi dì-chuimhneachadh tròcairean cudthromach? Cuimhnichibh gu’m bheil fior shaoibhreas na h-eaglais air a thasgadh suas far nach ruig a naimhdean uile air; faodaidh iad bhur deanamh bochd; ach cha’n urrain iad bhur deanamh truagh. Ciod e sin ged nach deanadh Dia eadar-dhealachadh, ‘n a fhirosraichidhean bho’n leth a muigh, eadar a chuid Fein agus muinntir eile? Seachd, ciod e ged a dheanadh a bhreitheanasan greim air a chuid a b’fhearr, agus a chaomhnadh E a chuid a bu mhiosa? Ciod e ged a bhiodh Abel air a mharbhadh ann a gràdh, agus Cain air a chaomhnadh ann am fuath; Dionisii fulachdach a b’asachadh air a leabaoidh, agus Iosiah diadhaidh tuiteam anns a bhlàr? Ciod e ged a bhiodh brù an aingidh a. a lionadh le ionmhasan folaichte, agus fiaclan nan naomh air am briseadh le clachaibh gainmhich? Gidheadh fathasd ann an so tha mòran aobhar air moladh; oir rinn gràdh-taghaidh eadar-dhealachaidh, ged nach d’rinn freasdalan cumanta; agus am feadh a tha soirbheachadh agus caomhnadh a marbhadh nan aingidh, tha eadhon marbhadh agus duilgheadas ‘n a bhuannachd agus a tearnadh an fhirean.
‘N uair a tha comharaidhean iargalt anns na neamhan; air an talamh teanndachd a’ measg fhineachan, le iom-chomhairle, an cuan agus na tuinn a beucail, an sin fàilnichidh cridheachan dhaoine le eagal, agus le bhi’g amharc an deigh na nithean sin a tha tighinn air an talamh (Lucas xxi: 25, 26). Faodaidh eadhon Pol, e fein, a bhi aig amaibh a gearain air comharagan an leith a stigh, ‘n uair a tha eagalan bho’n leth a muigh (II Cor. vii: 5).
Ach cha bu chòr da na nithean sin a bhi mar sin. Bu chòr do naoimh a bhi de spiorad a b’airde na sin: mar a bha Daibhidh, ‘n uair a bha chridhe air a chumail an deagh fhonn; “Is e an Tighearna mo sholus, agus mo shlàinte; co chuireas eagal orm? Is e an Tighearna neart mo bheatha; co chuireas geilt orm?” (Salm xxvii: 1). Na biodh aon air bith ‘n a thràill do eagal ach seirbhiseach a pheacaidh, iadsan a ghabh tlaichd ann an olc biodh eagal uile orra. O na deanadh a’ nl sin a bhagair Dia mar bhreitheanas air an aingidh greim air broillichibh nam flean. “Agus orra-san a dh’fhàgar beo dhiubh, cuiridh mise laigse ‘n an cridheachan ann an dùthchan an naimhdean” (Lebh. xxvi: 36). O ciod e na daoine gun spiorad a th’annta so, a bhi teicheadh roimh dhuilleag air chrith, nl a ni fuaim taitneach agus cha’n e uamhasach, agus a tha ann fein ‘n a sheorsa de cheol nàdurra: ach do choguis chiontaich tha duilleach ri feadail mar dhrumachar agus mar thrùmpaidean. “Oir cha d’thug Dia dhuinne spiorac geilt; ach spiorad a chumhachd, agus a ghràidh, agus na h-inntinn fhallain” (II Tim. i: 7). ‘S e inntinn fhallain mar a tha i ‘n a seasamh an sin an aghaidh spiorad geilt, coguis neo-leointe, gun i bhi air a deanamh anmhuinn le cionta: agus bu chòr dhà sin gu’n deanadh e duine treun mar leomhan. Tha fios agam nach urrain e bhi air a ràdh mu naomh, an ni a tha Dia ag ràdh mu Lebhiatan, gu’m bheil e air a dheilbh gun eagal. Tha eagal nàdurra anns a h-uile duine, agus thà e eu-comasach gu h-iomlan a chur dheth mar an corp fein: is e gluasad inntinn a th’ann, ag eirigh bho mhothachadh air cunnart a bhi tighinn am fagasg; agus cho fad ‘s urrain cunnartan tighinn dlùth dhuinn, gheibh sinn na gluasadan sin an taobh a stigh dhinn. Cha’n e mo rùn a bhi moladh dhuibh mi-chùram mhl-chneasda, na fathasd ‘ur toirt bho thomhas de fhaiceal a tha’g eirigh bho eagal a tha cur bacadh, nl a dh’ullaich sibh air son trioblaid, agus a bhiodh feumail do bhu ‘n anamaibh; tha eagal freasdalach ann a tha fosgladh ‘ur sùilean gu bhl roimh laimh a faicinn eagail, agus a beothachadh gu feum glic agus laghail a dheanamh de mheadhonan gus a bhacadh. ‘S ann mar sin a bha eagal Iacob (Gen. xxxii: 7, 9, 10). Ach ‘s e eagal an an-earbsa a tha ml ga’r co-eigneachadh gu bhu cridheachan a chumail bh’uaith; am
fonn ain-tighearnail sin a thig a stigh do’n chridhe ann an àmaibh cunnart; a cur air mhl-cheill, a lagachadh, agus a deanamh a chridhe mi-fhreagarach air son dleasdanas; agus a cur thuige dhaoine dh’ionnsuidh meadhonan mì-laghail, a bheir ribe maillle riutha.
(R’a leantuinn)