A Sermon by David Mitchell
Genesis 22:14. Jehovah-Jireh.
These words were spoken by Abraham, the father of the faithful and the friend of God, when God directed him to offer up his son Isaac as a sacrifice. Abraham was not only told to take his son, but his only son, “the son whom thou lovest”. This must have been a very trying time for the aged patriarch. God has so formed us that we instinctively contemplate our offspring with the tenderest emotions. David was so much affected by the death of his rebellious son Absalom, that the King would rather have suffered death instead of his son.
That Abraham was an affectionate parent is plain from his whole history. What must have been his feelings when he was commanded to offer up the submissive Isaac? The great God commanding the father to plunge the knife in his only son! How firm in faith must the patriarch have been when he commenced his journey! He might have doubted and lingered. But Abraham was actuated by a nobler principle. He believed in the Lord and instantly obeyed. “Abraham rose up early in the morning, and saddled his ass, and took two of his young men, with him, and Isaac his son.” This journey, undertaken so promptly, proved very clearly the strength of the patriarch’s faith, and perhaps one of the severest trials of his faith was when Isaac “said, My father: and he said, Here am I, my son. And he said, Behold the fire and the wood: but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?”
Could anyone conceive a more heart-searching question? But God kept the door of Abraham’s lips. The Almighty never sends anyone on a warfare on his own charges. Abraham was enabled to give an answer admirably suited to the occasion, which gave great force to the doctrine in our text: “God will provide Himself a lamb for a burnt offering: so they went both of them together. And they came to the place which God had told him of; and Abraham built an altar there, and laid the wood in order, and bound Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar upon the wood. And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son. And the angel of the Lord called unto him out of heaven, and said, Abraham, Abraham: and he said, Here am I. And He said, lay not thine hand upon the lad, neither do thou anything unto him: for now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me. And Abraham lifted up his eyes, and looked, and behold behind him a ram caught in a thicket by his horns: and Abraham
1Mitchell (1798-1882) was latterly minister of St Luke’s Free Church, Glasgow. The sermon is taken, with abridgement, from his Pastoral Recollections and Sermons.
went and took the ram, and offered him up for a burnt offering in the stead of his son.”
Now, when the aged patriarch reflected on God’s faithfulness in protecting and supporting him in such a wonderful way in the days of his pilgrimage, when he saw the prediction so literally fulfilled, that God had indeed provided Himself a lamb for a burnt-offering, when his uplifted arm was arrested by a joyful sound from the majesty of heaven and his attention directed to the ram, which he offered instead of his son, with what feelings of gratitude would he lift up his voice to say, “The Lord will provide”!
We shall now endeavour, by the blessing of God, to illustrate the strength of Abraham’s faith: first, in temporal things, and second, in spiritual things.
1. The strength of Abraham’s faith in temporal things. That Abraham had a strong belief in the providence of God, in the things of the present life, is plain especially from how he left his father’s house. He had no clear conception of where he was to go. He went forward, taking the Lord for his refuge and strength; and plainly his faith must have been put to a severe test. When he came into Canaan, he must have perceived the wickedness of the people, and the dangers to which he was exposed among those who were filling up the measure of their iniquity.
Abraham was not exempted from an evil heart of unbelief such as we have to contend with. He was not exempted from trial – and Satan would doubtless suggest difficulties, and endeavour to inject his insinuations into his mind. The dangers that surrounded him would be called forth in all their magnitude, the difficulty of providing for such a numerous household, the uncertainty of the path he was to pursue, and the distance to the unseen land he was commanded to go to, would all combine to throw obstacles in the way. We know that Abraham had doubts about the accomplishment of the promise even after he came to Canaan: for we read in Genesis 15 that he was in perplexity; he “said, Lord God, what wilt Thou give me, seeing I go childless, and the steward of my house is this Eliezer of Damascus?”
But in the multitude of his thoughts within him, he possessed his soul in patience. He went out boldly when duty required it; he committed his way to the Lord when called to endure. When God commanded him to go forth, he did not hesitate. It was enough to receive the command of his Maker. He went out under heaven’s protection; and God, out of His abundant fullness, showed that He was a rich provider. As he went from land to land, God marvellously gave him riches in abundance. When he came up out of Egypt, he was very rich in cattle, silver and gold. Yet he was always conscious that God was his refuge and that his reward was in the Lord his strength.
So watchful was he of God’s way of working towards him, that he resisted
whatever might suggest to the nations around him that God was not his strength and shield. When the king of Sodom met him after his return from the slaughter of the kings that had pillaged Sodom and taken Lot captive, the prince said, “Give me the persons, and take the goods to thyself”. Abraham was so zealous for the Lord of hosts that he would not accept the smallest portion of the spoil. “Abram said to the king of Sodom, I have lift up mine hand unto the Lord, the most high God, the possessor of heaven and earth, that I will not take from a thread even to a shoelatchet, lest thou shouldest say, I have made Abram rich.”
Abraham’s action did not escape the eye of the omniscient God. He notices the confidence which men place in Him, and He honours it with tokens of approbation. He saw the fidelity of His servant, who looked to his Lord and Master as his strength and his joy, and the trust was repaid by a special mark of His favour. “The word of the Lord came unto Abram in a vision, saying, Fear not, Abram, I am thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward. . . . And He brought him forth abroad, and said, Look now toward heaven, and tell the stars, if thou be able to number them . . . so shall thy seed be. And he believed in the Lord; and He counted it to him for righteousness.”
God still acts on the same principle towards the human race and requires the same implicit confidence from His followers. The Lord still upholds all things by the word of His power, and supplies the needs of all His creatures. He is the omnipotent and bountiful One, who opens His hand with the fullness of heaven and gives bread to the weary and water to the fainting. That omniscient eye which watched over faithful Abraham shall never wax dim. That powerful arm which sustained him in the midst of his trials shall never fail. This may not be felt in the same way as in the days of old. But though miracles have ceased, the principle on which Jehovah acts is still the same, and it is His children’s duty to trust with equal certainty in His procedure. The ram is still to be found caught in the thicket; the God who hid Moses in the cleft of the rock is their God. He who fed Elijah by the ravens is the same unchangeable provider. He who found a rest for Jonah in the mighty deep still rules the raging tempest. He who fed thousands with a handful of bread is filled with unchangeable compassion.
These truths will commend themselves to the consciences of God’s children. He is as faithful to His people now as He was to Abraham. The fulfilment of His promise is certain; the bounty of His providence is equally sure; and if we have not found the same degree of comfort by confiding in God, the defect must lie with ourselves. If we have been overwhelmed with despondency in our affliction, it was when we gave way to unbelief. If we do not feel the same security in God’s providence as Abraham, it is because our faith
is weaker. Is it not lamentable how little men reflect on the wise superintendence and the bountiful providence of God? Do we not see all kinds of people acting with bold indifference as if there was no God? This is not often openly avowed, but it is acted upon in varied paths of life.
We see the mariner, who perceives the wonders of the Almighty in the deep, using every expedient to brave the rising tempest, yet never asking the aid of Him whom the winds and the sea obey. We hear of the distinguished warrior, leading his armies to battle, trusting entirely in the arm of flesh, unmindful that the battle is the Lord’s. We find business men calculating on things as already in their possession, while they are in the most distant corner of the globe, without ever taking into consideration the providence of God, who can alone crown their endeavours with success, or cast their riches to the bottom of the sea. We find the farmer calculating on the produce of his ground just in proportion to his own exertions, forgetting that God can make the earth bring forth in handfuls or give his labour to the caterpillar?
In fact, do we not find men of every class living practically as if there is no God? In prosperity they are elated with success, and ascribe it entirely to their own exertions. In adversity we find them involved in darkness and confusion. Their own strength has failed them, and they derive no comfort from the omnipotent Provider. They are often afraid where there is no immediate danger. They frequently “labour as in the fire, and weary themselves for very vanity.”
But those who have found a resting place under the shadow of the Most High are led to act on a different principle. They too will use every lawful exertion to better themselves in temporal things. But they will not trust in their own efforts, excluding the superintendence of a wise and bountiful God. They will strive to realise a sense of their dependence on their Maker and perceive His faithfulness in the treatment they receive from Him. They will often be astonished at the events they have passed through. They will perceive that God has often caused the most unwelcome events contribute largely to their good. When they reflect on how God has sustained them and when they reflect on the many dangers from which He has preserved them, when they remember that Jehovah is ever faithful to His promises, may they not say, “Jehovah-jireh”; “the Lord will provide”?
2. The strength of Abraham’s faith in spiritual things. Although he left his father’s house in the full assurance that God would provide for his temporal necessities, he was led to value it as subservient to the purposes of grace in advancing the scheme whereby all the families of the earth should be blessed. He viewed his temporal blessings only as preparatory steps in accomplishing the grand purposes of grace, that God would in due time ful-
fill all He had promised, and at last make him inherit the heavenly Canaan. This is clear from what Paul said, “By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out, not knowing whither he went. By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange country, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise.” Then follows his reason: “He looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God”.
It is evident that Abraham had a strong belief in God for spiritual things. The Lord had frequently informed him that he would have a son from whom Messiah was to descend; so he would look forward to the birth of Isaac with no ordinary interest. Abraham was filled with great anxiety on the subject; although the father of the faithful, he appears to have given way to unbelief on one occasion. He said, “Behold, to me Thou hast given no seed: and, lo, one born in my house is mine heir”. What then must have been his feelings when the birth of his child took place?
Abraham could not fail to see this gift from God as a pledge of His future faithfulness. He had remained many years in painful suspense; his faith, so strong, was sometimes clouded; but at the birth of Isaac he could behold in his son the line from whom the Messiah was to descend. His hope was now in some degree fruition, and his faith vision. He saw the heir of promise; his needs would be eagerly anticipated and abundantly supplied. That Isaac was the object of great solicitude is plain from the fact that Ishmael, the son of the bond-woman, was cast out when he was weaned, lest Ishmael molest the promised child. As Isaac advanced in years, the bonds of paternal friendship would still gather strength.
We have already stated that Abraham’s trial did not simply consist in the test of his feelings as a parent; he had a prospect of more important consequences. He saw in Isaac the progenitor of Christ. How great then must have been the trial of his faith when he went to mount Moriah to offer his beloved son for a burnt offering. Consider for a moment the nature of the command. It was a command calculated to fill the mind with horror. It was at variance with the general tenor of God’s dealings with man. It was entirely at variance with the revelation the Most High had given to His creatures. God had punished Cain and made him wander as a fugitive on the earth because he had killed his brother. The Lord had said unto man: “Whoso sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed”.
The command also seemed directly in opposition to what God had told Abraham. It therefore put his faith to a severe test. Reasoning according to the wisdom of men, he might have asked himself: Is this how I must deal
with my beloved Isaac, who was given me as the comfort of my age and as a pledge of the coming Messiah? Can it be possible that the God who ordered me to leave my kindred and my father’s house, in the prospect of making my son a blessing to all the families of the earth, now commands me to cut off my only hope? We cannot help thinking that, during his journey from Beer-sheba to Moriah, his mind would often have been harassed with painful surmisings. He was offering a sacrifice every step of his journey, and it was not until the third day he beheld the place.
We believe that all who read the narrative impartially will see that Abraham gave up his son to God unreservedly; the thing was actually done in the patriarch’s mind. “The angel of the Lord called unto Abraham out of heaven the second time, and said, By Myself have I sworn, saith the Lord, for because thou hast done this thing, and hast not withheld thy son, thine only son: that in blessing I will bless thee, and in multiplying I will multiply thy seed as the stars of the heaven, and as the sand which is upon the sea shore.” If Abraham had entertained the idea that God would interpose on behalf of Isaac, it would have lessened the trial of his faith, and placed it entirely upon another footing. It was because he did not withhold his son that he received special marks of God’s approbation. He went forth in the strength of God, though his son was required. He withheld not the sacrifice, though it contained the seed of the very Messiah by whom alone he could be saved. He believed that God was able to raise his beloved Isaac from the dead, “from whence also he received him in a figure”.
If the doctrine contained in the text is not confined to Abraham in temporal things, it is not confined to him in what is spiritual. This principle must be recognised and acted on by everyone who has spiritual life. It is possible that people may live as men of the world in temporal things, not acknowledging the superintendence of a bountiful God; it is possible that they may daily be fed by the bread that God has provided and yet never express one grateful feeling to the Ruler of all; it is possible that they may have been shielded from imminent danger, and never once thank their great Protector; but there is no one who can stand forth in the spiritual life in his own strength. The life of the Christian is entirely derived from Another; he possesses no spiritual qualities in himself. He can no more effect in himself a change that constitutes the germ of a new life than the unrenewed man can impart natural life. It is as impossible for a dead man to restore himself to life as a man to become a child of God by his own exertions, or to go on successfully in the Christian course without the aid of divine grace.
No man can come to Jesus, except the Father who has sent Him draw him. No man can proceed on his journey through the pilgrimage of life without
direction and strength at every step; and, blessed be God, aid has been provided, with a bountiful hand. Blessings are bestowed, and these are the most valuable in heaven. Nothing was considered too costly to purchase deliverance for man; nothing is too precious to adorn the sinner and prepare him for glory. The Son of God was not withheld; the only begotten of the Father was sent from heaven to earth. God manifest in the flesh has appeared, the seed of Abraham has sprung forth, and the rod from the stem of Jesse has yielded fruit. This has been done to us in a way Abraham never experienced.
When his views of Messiah were most exalted, Abraham only saw His day afar off. New Testament Christians view the scheme of redemption in a way the most highly favoured in the Old Testament never enjoyed. When Christ revealed Himself under the Old Testament, He was at an infinite distance from the creature. A mysterious veil was suspended over the Son of God before He became incarnate. He appeared to the patriarchs and prophets and gave them many intimations of His goodness, but His glory was shrouded. He appeared unto Moses in the wilderness of Sinai in a flame of fire in the midst of a bush, but His appearance was so terrible that “Moses hid his face; for he was afraid to look upon God”. He appeared to Joshua as the captain of the Lord’s host, but He was as a man of war in the midst of the camp. His glory rested in the most holy place, but it was only approachable by the high priest once a year, and not without the blood of a victim.
Isaiah described Messiah’s glory: “I saw also the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and His train filled the temple. Above it stood the seraphims: each one had six wings; with twain he covered his face, and with twain he covered his feet, and with twain he did fly. And one cried unto another, and said, Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts: the whole earth is full of His glory. And the posts of the door moved at the voice of Him that cried, and the house was filled with smoke. Then said I, Woe is me! because I am a man of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.”
But the Mosaic economy was enveloped in mystery, full of cumbrous services abounding in divers washings and costly sacrifices. Yet it but darkly revealed the excellence of Him who is “the brightness of [the Father’s] glory, and the express image of His person”. The method God adopted was the best, the result of divine wisdom. It was suited to the ages that are gone. The idea of Jesus’ substitution for sinners was made so clear that there can be no mystery about the fact that He has made atonement for dying men; yet this was not so clear under the law. The offender was commanded to confess his guilt over the victim; he laid his hand on the live animal; and will anyone say that we do not have a greater degree of light and privilege in gospel times? Mark how God fully unfolded the Father’s purpose of love. It was not by the thun-
ders of Horeb, nor by the darkness of Egypt; it was not by devouring fire in the desert; He did not fill heaven with His bolts of terror.
The Almighty was now to do something new. Jehovah’s glory was to be mantled with a body of flesh and blood, which the eyes of sinful men can behold. Jehovah’s Son appears as a helpless infant; He is fed with bread and water; He sits, He sleeps, He is fatigued and weary; He converses as a man; He feels as a man; He endures and grieves. Men approach Him without hesitation. His friends recline on His breast; His enemies upbraid, buffet and reproach Him. The Being at whose brightness Moses trembled, and at whose presence Abraham fell on his face, can now be approached as a meek and innocent child. Be astounded, O heavens, at this! Wonder, O earth for the Lord has done a strange thing among men!
Further, a vastly superior view is given of Christ’s atonement. He has distinctly announced as the Mediator who paid the debt, and that God has accepted the ransom. The Father no longer commands the worshipper to bring forth the bullock; the lamb without blemish is no longer consumed on the altar. Jehovah named His victim of old; He announced the coming of His Son. His character was minutely described, and in due time the Lamb of God appeared. The place where the victim was offered has been declared, and the Almighty acquiesces in the deed. The Father rejoices in His surety, and with outstretched arms of mercy He proclaims deliverance to man, in plain terms. The lowering shadows of a cumbrous ritual have fled, and the twilight of the morning has given place to the meridian sun. The most unlettered peasant may appreciate the worth of the gospel. The Lord commands men to come indiscriminately to a throne of mercy. “The Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.”
Some present may never have doubted Abraham’s history, but have never experienced Abraham’s faith. The sailor, who has suffered shipwreck, may stand on the rock and see the ark of safety going to and fro before him. You could conceive how an intoxicated man would see his companions enter one after another and yet continue to gaze in heedless apathy. The waters rise rapidly and, before long, he must be swallowed up by the sea. His companions call on him to enter the vessel, but he ignores them. The final warning is given, and at last the ark of safety departs. The deluded man is overwhelmed by the flood and perishes. Would any language be considered too severe to awaken him to a sense of his danger? And should it be unseemly for the ambassador of Christ to labour earnestly to expose a more dangerous delusion in the history of the man who will not come to God that he may have life, and to the Son of God that he may have it abundantly?
Captain Hedley Vicars (2)1
Following army service overseas, Vicars spent a year with his family in England, a year which the companionship of kindred spirits and the delight of home made probably the happiest in his life. Here too we find him constantly active; whether in the country, visiting and praying in the cottages of the poor; or in London, “teaching in ragged schools, visiting repentant thieves and, with city missionaries, diving into the depths of urban wretchedness.”
Very soon after the outbreak of the war in the East,2 the 97th regiment received orders to go to the scene of conflict. The pang which this announcement caused his family and friends can well be conceived. Some extracts from his biography will show how the few weeks before his departure were spent:
“On the twenty-ninth of March he came from Windsor to meet us in London and return with us to Beckenham. On the evening of his arrival he addressed upwards of a hundred navvies, beside several of the young men of the village, at the reading rooms. They were very crowded, and many more surrounded the doors. He chose for his subject, ‘Prepare to meet thy God’; and no man on a dying bed could have spoken with greater solemnity and earnestness. Yet there he stood, a strong young man amidst strong young men, ‘putting himself alongside of us as a fellow sinner’, as one of them remarked.
“One after another they crowded around him to shake his hand and to wish him safety and success. We heard them saying among themselves, ‘It’s a pity that such a fine fellow as that should go to be shot; and several of them met at the farther end of the village to pray for him regularly.'”
Again: “One day when we were in London, I happened to meet him when on my way to a hospital to see a sick navvy. . . . He requested permission to go also. . . . From that time he regularly visited that poor man twice a week, although the hospital was six miles from Kensington Barracks. Even in the hurry of his last day in England, he found time to bid the man farewell.”
There are many proofs throughout the volume of the deep affection felt for him by those in whose spiritual concerns he was so much interested. He was prayed for by name at nine prayer meetings for the army, in England and Scotland, from the day they began until his death. We cannot omit a conversation his biographer held with some of the light company of the 97th, a few days before they left England:
1Reprinted, with editing, from The Christian Treasury for 1857. This is the second of two articles which provide a summary of Memorials of Captain Hedley Vicars, by Catherine Marsh. The previous article appeared in August. Vicars was born in 1826 and joined the 97th regiment of the British Army in 1844. He was converted in perhaps 1849.
2The Crimean War, which lasted from October 1853 to February 1856.
“One named Reynolds said, ‘Since Mr Vicars became so good, he has steadied about four hundred men in the regiment’.
“‘Four hundred!’ was repeated with surprise.
“I don’t mean that he has made all the four hundred as good as himself; that he couldn’t. I know enough of religion to know that God alone could do that. But while he was adjutant, and since too, he has steadied and sobered nigh four hundred of the most drunken and wildest men in the regiment. There isn’t a better officer nor a better man in the Queen’s service.”
We give, from the biography, the account of his leaving England: “It was a lovely morning, that nineteenth of May. The sunshine glittering on the bayonets of the men, as they marched up the steps to the station, seemed to mock the tears of wives, sisters and friends who accompanied them.
“I saw a young wife quit her hold of her husband’s hand and approach Hedley Vicars, with a manner of respectful confidence, as she said to him, ‘O Mr Vicars, you will see that Cottrell writes to me regular, won’t you? It is my only comfort to know that you will.’ The kindness and sympathy of his tone, as he answered her, told that her confidence was not misplaced.
“Just then his brother arrived; and, during the delay which followed before the train started, we read Psalm 121 in the waiting room, I remember the deep well of quiet confidence in his eye, as the words were repeated to him: ‘The Lord is thy keeper’.
“There was something in the tone of his voice that day which struck like a distant knell upon our hearts. It was a foreboding tone. However strongly hope may have sprung up afterwards, we felt at that moment that it was our last parting.”
The first destination of the 97th was Greece. And here a malignant form of cholera broke out which, in 34 days, deprived the regiment of 120 men. Captain Vicars here took on himself the arduous duties of chaplain, visiting the sick, attending the burial services and seizing each opportunity for exhortation and warning.
He writes: “Morning and evening, the dead cart leaves the hospital for the graveyard. It is all very sad and solemn, but there is a silver lining to every cloud! I believe that this dread visitation of the Almighty has taught a lesson to many which, I trust and hope, never will be forgotten. Alas that so few have the comfort of religion, the knowledge of Jesus Christ! With some of my brother officers I have lately had most earnest conversations; and they have promised to come to my room that we may read the Bible together. O that I may be enabled to speak a word in season to their souls and, by my poor, feeble testimony to His tenderness and love, lead them to that precious Saviour who died for sinners! We meet for prayer every evening, with special
reference to the removal of this grievous sickness, if it please God, and for the gift of the Holy Spirit to sanctify this visitation.”
Again: “My Scripture reading and prayer meeting at the hospital is better attended than ever. Last Sabbath I read Hebrews 12 in one of the wards, and after talking to the men about it, felt my heart drawn out earnestly in prayer for their souls. My chief, my only, subject with them is Jesus; and it is a theme of which I hope never to grow tired. May God the Holy Ghost bless my feeble words to their immortal souls, for Jesus Christ’s sake.”
We now come to the winter before Sevastopol – that winter whose privations and miseries so many pens have described, and in which Captain Vicars’ character developed in brightness day by day. Every article of luxury, and even of comfort, sent to him from England was devoted to the suffering soldiers. Notwithstanding the fatigues attending the duty in the trenches, and other constant military duty, he found time for nightly meetings for prayer and habitual visiting of the sick and wounded. Several boxes from England arrived, containing clothing and other articles for the suffering soldiers, together with Testaments, tracts and other religious books; and distributing these formed some of the bright spots of that desolate winter.
Spring came, in name at least; and with it Hedley Vicars’ last Sabbath on earth. The devotional exercises, and the conversation with brother officers on that day, seemed indeed a foretaste of heaven. The day appointed for national humiliation and prayer followed, and well did he keep it. The last words he wrote referred to this: “I look for great results from the prayers which have ascended to heaven this day and have been presented by our great Intercessor before the throne of God. . . . We had two . . . services, in the morning at 11, and in the afternoon at 3 o’clock. I spent the evening with Cay. I read Isaiah 12, and he prayed.”
One other fragment was found in his desk, addressed to the one to whom he was to be united in marriage on his return to England, had his life been spared: “The greater part of another month is past, and here I am, still kept by the protecting arm of the Almighty from all harm. I have been in many a danger, by night and by day, since I last wrote to you, my own beloved; but the Lord has delivered me from them all; and not only so, but He has likewise kept me in perfect peace and made me glad with the light of His countenance. In Jesus I find all I want of happiness or enjoyment; and as week after week and month after month roll by, I believe He is becoming more and more lovely in my eyes and precious to my soul.”
Within another 24 hours, his eyes had seen the King in His beauty. On the night of March 22, a Russian force of 15 000 men, taking advantage of a stormy darkness, came out of Sevastopol. A detachment of the 97th was on
the advanced post of the British forces. When the Russians first approached, they were assumed to be allies. Hedley Vicars was the first to discover them to be the enemy. Leading on his band of barely 200 men, to charge a force of 2000, with the long remembered cry of, “This way, 97th,” he met his death on the field of his first action. A victory was won, but his men bore from the field the dying body of their devoted leader.
From many letters sent after his death to his family in England, from Sevastopol – letters coming from the highest in command to the private soldier – we take a few extracts from a young Scottish officer, Lieutenant Douglas Macgregor, who was to follow his beloved friend:
“Dearest Mother, This is a dark and sorrowful day with me; my heart is wrung, my eyes red and hot with crying. . . . My very dear friend Vicars was killed last night. The Russians made a sortie; and while gallantly leading on a handful of our men, to charge them outside our works, he was mortally wounded, by a ball striking his right breast. He was fully prepared for the most sudden death, and he died bravely fighting and doing his duty. . . . Such a death became such a life, and such a soldier. The most gallant, the most cheerful, the happiest, the most universally respected officer, and the most consistent Christian soldier, has been taken from us by that bullet, and I know not how to live without him. . . .
“Everyone liked and respected Vicars, even those who did not agree with his strict religion. And those who had known him so long as the leader of every mad riot, when, after closely watching him for years and finding that, once enlisted in Christ’s army, he never flinched, [they] at last gave in and acknowledged that Vicars at any rate was a true Christian. I knew that when he went into action he would show that a Christian soldier is a brave as well as a happy man.
“God bless you, mother; and may He sanctify this severe trial to my soul.”