FIRST YEARS OF LABOR IN DUNDEE.
"_Ye know, from the first day that I came into Asia, after what
manner I have been with you at all seasons, serving the Lord
with all humility of mind, and with many tears and
temptations_"--Acts 20:18, 19.
The day on which he was ordained pastor of a flock, was a day of much
anxiety to his soul. He had journeyed by Perth to spend the night
preceding under the roof of his kind friend Mr. Grierson, in the manse
of Errol. Next morning, ere he left the manse, three passages of
Scripture occupied his mind. 1. "_Thou shall keep him in perfect peace
whose mind is stayed on Thee; because he trusteth in Thee_."--Isaiah
26:3. This verse was seasonable; for, as he sat meditating on the
solemn duties of the day, his heart trembled. 2. "_Give thyself wholly
to these things"_--I Tim. 4:15. May that word (he prayed) sink deep
into my heart. 3. "_Here am I, send me_"--Isaiah 6:8. "To go, or to
stay,--to be here till death, or to visit foreign shores, whatsoever,
wheresoever, whensoever Thou pleasest." He rose from his knees with
the prayer, "Lord, may thy grace come with the laying on of the hands
of the Presbytery."
He was ordained on November 24, 1836. The service was conducted by Mr.
Roxburgh of St. John's, through whose exertions the new church had
been erected, and who ever afterwards cherished the most cordial
friendship towards him. On the Sabbath following he was introduced to
his flock by Mr. John Bonar of Larbert, with whom he had labored as a
son in the gospel. Himself preached in the afternoon upon Isaiah
61:1-3, "_The Spirit of the Lord is upon me_" etc.; of which he
writes, "May it be prophetic of the object of my coming here!" And
truly it was so. That very sermon--the first preached by him as a
pastor--was the means of awakening souls, as he afterwards learned;
and ever onward the impressions left by his words seemed to spread
and deepen among his people. To keep up the remembrance of this solemn
day, he used in all the subsequent years of his ministry to preach
from this same text on the anniversary of his ordination.[7] In the
evening of that day, Mr. Bonar again preached on "_These times of
refreshing._" "A noble sermon, showing the marks of such times. Ah!
when shall we have them here? Lord bless this word, to help their
coming! Put thy blessing upon this day! Felt given over to God, as one
bought with a price."
[7] The _Acceptable Year of the Lord_ was one of these
Anniversary Sermons, preached November 1840.
There was a rapid growth in his soul, perceptible to all who knew him
well, from this time. Even his pulpit preparations, he used to say,
became easier from this date. He had earnestly sought that the day of
his ordination might be a time of new grace; he expected it would be
so; and there was a peculiar work to be done by his hands, for which
the Holy Spirit did speedily prepare him.
His diary does not contain much of his feelings during his residence
in Dundee. His incessant labors left him little time, except what he
scrupulously spent in the direct exercises of devotion. But what we
have seen of his manner of study and self-examination at Larbert, is
sufficient to show in what a constant state of cultivation his soul
was kept; and his habits in these respects continued with him to the
last. Jeremy Taylor recommends: "If thou meanest to enlarge thy
religion, do it rather by enlarging thine ordinary devotions than thy
extraordinary." This advice describes very accurately the plan of
spiritual life on which Mr. M'Cheyne acted. He did occasionally set
apart seasons for special prayer and fasting, occupying the time so
set apart exclusively in devotion. But the real secret of his soul's
prosperity lay in the daily enlargement of his heart in fellowship
with his God. And the river deepened as it flowed on to eternity; so
that he at least reached the feature of a holy pastor which Paul
pointed out to Timothy (4:15): "His profiting did appear to all."
In his own house everything was fitted to make you feel that the
service of God was a cheerful service, while he sought that every
arrangement of the family should bear upon eternity. His morning
hours were set apart for the nourishment of his own soul; not,
however, with the view of laying up a stock of grace for the rest of
the day,--for manna will corrupt if laid by,--but rather with the view
of "giving the eye the habit of looking upward all the day, and
drawing down gleams from the reconciled countenance." He was sparing
in the hours devoted to sleep, and resolutely secured time for
devotion before breakfast, although often wearied and exhausted when
he laid himself to rest. "A soldier of the cross," was his remark,
"must endure hardness." Often he sang a psalm of praise, as soon as he
arose, to stir up his soul. Three chapters of the word was his usual
morning portion. This he thought little enough, for he delighted
exceedingly in the Scriptures: they were better to him than thousands of
gold or silver. "When you write," said he to a friend, "tell me the
meaning of Scriptures." To another, in expressing his value for the
word, he said, "One gem from that ocean is worth all the pebbles of
earthly streams."
His chief season of relaxation seemed to be breakfast-time. He would
come down with a happy countenance and a full soul; and after the
sweet season of family prayer, forthwith commence forming plans for
the day. When he was well, nothing seemed to afford him such true
delight as to have his hands full of work. Indeed, it was often
remarked that in him you found--what you rarely meet with--a man of
high poetic imagination and deep devotion, who nevertheless was
engaged unceasingly in the busiest and most laborious activities of
his office.
His friends could observe how much his soul was engrossed during his
times of study of devotion. If interrupted on such occasions, though
he never seemed ruffled, yet there was a kind of gravity and silence
that implied--"I wish to be alone." But he further aimed at enjoying
God _all the day_. And referring on one occasion to those blank hours
which so often are a believer's burden,--hours during which the soul
is dry and barren,--he observed, "They are proofs of how little we are
_filled_ with the presence of God, how little we are _branchlike_[8]
in our faith."
[8] Compare Zechariah 4:12 with John 15:5.
This careful attention to the frame of his spirit did not hinder his
preparation for his people; on the contrary, it kept alive his deep
conscientiousness, and kept his warm compassion ever yearning. When
asked to observe a Saturday as a day of fasting and prayer, along with
some others who had a special object in view, he replied, "Saturday is
an awkward day for ministers; for though I love to seek help from on
high, I love also diligently to set my thoughts in order for the
Sabbath. I sometimes fear that you fail in this latter duty."
During his first years in Dundee, he often rode out in an afternoon to
the ruined church of Invergowrie, to enjoy an hour's perfect solitude;
for he felt meditation and prayer to be the very sinews of his work.
Such notices, also, as the following, show his systematic pursuit of
personal holiness:--
"_April 9, 1837_, Evening.--A very pleasant quietness. Study of the
Epistle to the Hebrews. Came to a more intelligent view of the first
six chapters than ever before. Much refreshed by John Newton;
instructed by Edwards. Help and freedom in prayer. Lord, what a happy
season is a Sabbath evening! What will heaven be!"
"_April 16_, Sabbath evening.--Much prayer and peace. Reading the
Bible only."
"_June 2._--Much peace and rest to-night. Much broken under a sense of
my exceeding wickedness, which no eye can see but thine. Much
persuasion of the sufficiency of Christ, and of the constancy of his
love. Oh how sweet to work all day for God, and then to lie down at
night under his smiles!"
"_June 17, 1838._--At Dumbarney communion. Much sin and coldness two
days before. Lay low at his feet; found peace only in Jesus."
"_Sept. 25._--Spent last week at Blairgowrie; I hope not in vain. Much
sin, weakness, and uselessness; much delight in the word also, while
opening it up at family prayer. May God make the word fire. Opened I
Thessalonians, the whole; enriching to my own mind. How true is Psalm
1! yet observed in my heart a strange proneness to be entangled with
the affairs of this life; not strange because I am good, but because I
have been so often taught that bitterness is the end of it."
"_Sept. 27._--Devoted chief part of Friday to fasting. Humbled and
refreshed."
"Sept. 30, Sabbath.--Very happy in my work. Too little prayer in the
morning. Must try to get early to bed on Saturday, that I may 'rise a
great while before day.'" These early hours of prayer on Sabbath he
endeavored to have all his life; not for study, but for prayer. He
never labored at his sermons on a Sabbath. That day he kept for its
original end, the _refreshment of his soul_. (Exodus 31:17.)
The parish of St. Peter's, to which he had come, was large and very
destitute. It is situated at the west end of the town, and included
some part of the adjacent country. The church was built in connection
with the Church Extension Scheme. The parish was a _quoard sacra_
parish, detached from St. John's. It contains a population of 4,000
souls, very many of whom never crossed the threshold of any sanctuary.
His congregation amounted at the very outset, to about 1,100 hearers,
one-third of whom came from distant parts of the town.
Here was a wide field for parochial labor. It was also a very dead
region--few, even of those who were living Christians, breathing their
life on others; for the surrounding mass of impenetrate heathenism had
cast its sad influence even over them. His first impressions of Dundee
were severe. "A city given to idolatry and hardness of heart. I fear
there is much of what Isaiah speaks of: 'The prophets prophesy lies,
and the people love to have it so.'"
His first months of labor were very trying. He was not strong in
bodily health, and that winter a fatal influenza prevailed for two or
three months, so that most of his time in his parish was spent in
visiting the sick and dying. In such cases he was always ready. "Did I
tell you of the boy I was asked to see on Sabbath evening, just when I
got myself comfortably seated at home? I went, and was speaking to him
of the freeness and fulness of Jesus, when he gasped a little and
died."
In one of his first visits to the sick, the narrative of the Lord's
singular dealings with one of his parishioners greatly encouraged him
to carry the glad tidings to the distressed under every disadvantage.
Four years before, a young woman had been seized with cholera, and was
deprived of the use of speech for a whole year. The Bible was read to
her, and men of God used to speak and pray with her. At the end of the
year her tongue was loosed, and the first words heard from her lips
were praise and thanksgiving for what the Lord had done for her soul.
It was in her chamber he was now standing, hearing from her own lips
what the Lord had wrought.
On another occasion during the first year of his ministry, he
witnessed the death-bed conversion of a man who, till within a few
days of his end, almost denied that there was a God. This solid
conversion, as he believed it to be, stirred him up to speak with all
hopefulness, as well as earnestness, to the dying.
But it was, above all, to the children of God that his visitations
seemed blessed. His voice, and his very eye, spoke tenderness; for
personal affliction had taught him to feel sympathy with the
sorrowing. Though the following be an extract from a letter, yet it
will be recognised by many as exhibiting his mode of dealing with
God's afflicted ones in his visitations: "There is a sweet word in
Exodus (3:7), which was pointed out to me the other day by a poor
bereaved child of God: 'I know their sorrows.' Study that; it fills
the soul. Another word like it is in Psalm 103:14: 'He knoweth our
frame.' May your own soul, and that of your dear friends, be fed by
these things. A dark hour makes Jesus bright. Another sweet word:
'They knew not that it was Jesus.'"
I find some specimens of his sick visits among his papers, noted down
at a time when his work had not grown upon his hands. "_January 25,
1837_--Visited Mt. M'Bain, a young woman of twenty-four, long ill of
decline. Better or worse these ten years past. Spoke of '_The one
thing needful_' plainly. She sat quiet. _February 14_--Had heard she
was better--found her near dying. Spoke plainly and tenderly to her,
commending Christ. Used many texts. She put out her hand kindly on
leaving. 15th--Still dying like; spoke as yesterday. She never opened
her eyes. 16th--Showed her the dreadfulness of wrath; freeness of
Christ; the majesty, justice, truth of God. Poor M. is fast going the
way whence she shall not return. Many neighbors also always gather in.
17th--Read Psalm 22; showed the sufferings of Christ; how sufficient
an atonement; how feeling a High Priest. She breathed loud, and
groaned through pain. Died this evening at seven. I hardly ever heard
her speak anything; and I will hope that thou art with Christ in
glory, till I go and see. 20th--Prayed at her funeral. Saw her laid in
St. Peter's churchyard, _the first laid there_, by her own desire, in
the fresh mould where never man was laid. May it be a token that she
is with Him who was laid in a new tomb."
He records another case: "_January 4, 1837_--Sent for to Mrs. S----.
Very ill; asthmatic. Spoke on '_No condemnation to them that are in
Christ_.' She said, 'But am I in Christ?' seemingly very anxious. Said
she had often been so, and had let it go by. 5th--Still living; spoke
to her of Christ, and of full salvation. (Myself confined in the house
till the 16th.)--Much worse. Not anxious to hear, yet far from rest.
Dark, uneasy eye. Asked me, 'What is it to believe?' Spoke to her on
'_God, who made light shine out of darkness._' She seemed to take up
nothing. Lord, help! 17th--Still worse; wearing away. No smile; no
sign of inward peace. Spoke of '_Remember me._' Went over the whole
gospel in the form of personal address. She drowsy. 18th--Quieter.
'_My Lord and my God_.' She spoke at intervals. More cheerful; anxious
that I should not go without prayer. Has much knowledge; complete
command of the Bible. 19th--Spoke on '_Convincing of sin and
righteousness._' Rather more heart to hear. 20th--Psalm 51. Her look
and her words were lightsome. 23d--Faintish and restless; no sign of
peace. '_I am the way_,' and Psalm 25. 24th--Still silent and little
sign of anything. 26th--Psalm 40, '_The fearful pit._' Very plain.
Could not get anything out of her. February 1--Died at twelve noon; no
visible mark of light, or comfort, or hope. The day shall declare it."
One other case: "_February 5, 1839._--Called suddenly in the evening.
Found him near death. Careless family. Many round him. Spoke of the
freeness and sufficiency of Jesus. '_Come unto me_,' etc., and '_The
wrath of God revealed from heaven_.' Told him he was going where he
would see Christ! asked him if He would be his Saviour? He seemed to
answer; his father said, 'He is saying, Yes.' But it was the throe of
death. One or two indescribable gasps, and he died! I sat silent, and
let God preach. 7th--Spoke of the '_Widow of Nain_,' and '_Behold I
stand at the door._'"
Attendance at funerals was often to him a season of much exercise.
Should it not be to all ministers a time for solemn inquiry? Was I
faithful with this soul? Could this soul have learned salvation from
me every time I saw him? And did I pray as fervently as I spoke? And
if we have tender pity for souls, we will sometimes feel as Mr.
M'Cheyne records: "_September 24._--Buried A.M. Felt bitterly the
word, 'If any man draw back.' etc. Never had more bitter feelings at
any funeral."
All who make any pretension to the office of shepherds visit their
flocks;[9] yet there is a wide difference in the kind of visits which
shepherds give. One does it formally, to discharge his duty and to
quiet conscience; another makes it his delight. And of those who make
it their delight, one goes forth on the regular plan of addressing all
in somewhat of the same style; while another speaks freely, according
as the wounds of his sheep come to view. On all occasions, this
difficult and trying work must be gone about with a full heart, if it
is to be gone about successfully at all. There is little in it to
excite, for there is not the presence of numbers, and the few you see
at a time are in their calmest, every-day mood. Hence there is need of
being full of grace, and need of feeling as though God did visit every
hearer by your means. Our object is not to get duty done, but to get
souls saved. II Cor. 13:7. Mr. M'Cheyne used to go forth in this
spirit, and often after visiting from house to house for several
hours, he would return to some room in the place in the evening, and
preach to the gathered families. "_September 26, 1838._--Good
visiting-day. Twelve families; many of them go nowhere. It is a great
thing to be well furnished by meditation and prayer before setting
out; it makes you a far more full and faithful witness. Preached in
A.F.'s house on Job, '_I know that my Redeemer liveth._' Very sweet
and precious to myself."
[9] Baxter (_Reformed Pastor_) says, "I dare prognosticate from
knowledge of the nature of true grace, that all godly ministers
will make conscience of this duty, and address themselves to it,
unless they be, by some extraordinary accident, disabled."
Partly from his state of health, and partly from the vast accumulation
of other labors, and the calls made on him for evangelizing elsewhere,
he was never able to overtake the visitation of the whole district
assigned him. He was blessed to attract and reclaim very many of the
most degraded; and by Sabbath schools and a regular eldership, to take
superintendence of the population to a great extent. Still he himself
often said that his parish had never fully shared in the advantages
that attend an aggressive system of parochial labor. Once when
spending a day in the rural parish of Collace, as we went in the
afternoon from door to door, and spoke to the children whom we met on
the road-side, he smiled and said, "Well, how I envy a country
minister; for he can get acquainted with all his people, and have some
insight into their real character." Many of us thought that he
afterwards erred, in the abundant frequency of his evangelistic labors
at a time when he was still bound to a particular flock.
He had an evening class every week for the young people of his
congregation. The Catechism and the Bible were his text-books, while
he freely introduced all manner of useful illustrations. He thought
himself bound to prepare diligently for his classes, that he might
give accurate and simple explanations, and unite what was interesting
with the most solemn and awakening views. But it was his class for
young communicants that engaged his deepest care, and wherein he saw
most success. He began a class of this kind previous to his first
Communion, and continued to form it again some weeks before every
similar occasion. His tract, published in 1840, _This do in
remembrance of Me_, may be considered as exhibiting the substance of
his solemn examination on these occasions.
He usually noted down his first impressions of his communicants, and
compared these notes with what he afterwards saw in them. Thus: "M.K.,
sprightly and lightsome, yet sensible; she saw plainly that the
converted alone should come to the Table, but stumbled at the
question, If she were converted? Yet she claimed being awakened and
brought to Christ." Another: "Very staid, intelligent-like person,
with a steady kind of anxiety, but, I fear, no feeling of
helplessness. Thought that sorrow and prayer would obtain forgiveness.
Told her plainly what I thought of her case." Another: "Knows she was
once Christless; now she reads, and prays, and is anxious. I doubt not
there is some anxiety, yet I fear it may be only a self-reformation to
recommend herself to God and to man. Told her plainly." "A.M., I fear
much for him. Gave him a token with much anxiety; warned him very
much." "C.P. does not seem to have any work of anxiety. He reads
prayer-books, etc. Does not pray in secret. Seems not very
intelligent."
He sought to encourage Sabbath schools in all the districts of his
parish. The hymn, _Oil for the Lamp_, was written to impress the
parable on a class of Sabbath scholars in 1841. Some of his sweet,
simple tracts were written for these schools. _Reasons why Children
should fly to Christ_ was the first, written at the New Year 1839; and
_The Lambs of the Flock_ was another at a later period. His heart felt
for the young. One evening, after visiting some of his Sabbath
schools, he writes: "Had considerable joy in teaching the children. Oh
for real heart-work among them!" He could accommodate himself to their
capacities; and he did not reckon it vain to use his talents in order
to attract their attention, for he regarded the soul of a child as
infinitely precious. Ever watchful for opportunities, on the blank
leaf of a book which he had sent to a little boy of his congregation,
he wrote these simple lines:--
Peace be to thee, gentle boy!
Many years of health and joy!
Love your Bible more than play,
Grow in wisdom every day.
Like the lark on hovering wing,
Early rise, and mount and sing;
Like the dove that found no rest
Till it flew to Noah's breast,
Rest not in this world of sin,
Till the Saviour take thee in.
He had a high standard in his mind as to the moral qualifications of
those who should teach the young. When a female teacher was sought for
to conduct an evening school in his parish for the sake of the
mill-girls, he wrote to one interested in the cause: "The
qualifications she should possess for sewing and knitting you will
understand far better than I. She should be able to keep up in her
scholars the fluency of reading, and the knowledge of the Bible and
Catechism which they may have already acquired. She should be able to
teach them to sing the praises of God with feeling and melody. But,
far above all, she should be a Christian woman, not in name only but
in deed and in truth,--one whose heart has been touched by the Spirit
of God, and who can love the souls of little children. Any teacher who
wanted this last qualification, I would look upon as a curse rather
than a blessing,--a centre of blasting and coldness and death, instead
of a centre from which life and warmth and heavenly influence might
emanate."
It was very soon after his ordination that he began his weekly
prayer-meeting in the church. He had heard how meetings of this kind
had been blessed in other places, and never had he any cause to regret
having set apart the Thursday evening for this holy purpose. One of
its first effects was to quicken those who had already believed; they
were often refreshed upon these occasions even more than on the
Sabbath. Some of the most solemn seasons of his ministry were at those
meetings. At their commencement, he wrote to me an account of his
manner of conducting them: "I give my people a Scripture to be hidden
in the heart--generally a promise of the Spirit or the wonderful
effects of his outpouring.[10] I give them the heads of a sermon upon
it for about twenty minutes. Prayer goes before and follows. Then I
read some history of Revivals, and comment in passing. I think the
people are very much interested in it: a number of people come from
all parts of the town. But, oh! I need much the living Spirit to my
own soul; I want my life to be hid with Christ in God. At present
there is too much hurry, and bustle, and outward working, to allow the
calm working of the Spirit on the heart. I seldom get time to
meditate, like Isaac, at evening-tide, except when I am tired; but the
dew comes down when all nature is at rest--when every leaf is still."
[10] The first text he gave to be thus hidden in the heart was
Isaiah 34:15; "Until the Spirit be poured out from on high."
A specimen of the happy freedom and familiar illustrations which his
people felt to be peculiar to these meetings, may be found in the
notes taken by one of his hearers, of _Expositions of the Epistles to
the Seven Churches_, given during the year 1838. He had himself great
delight in the Thursday evening meetings. "They will doubtless be
remembered in eternity with songs of praise," said he, on one
occasion; and at another time, observing the tender frame of a soul
which was often manifested at these seasons, he said, "There is a
stillness to the last word,--not as on Sabbaths, a rushing down at the
end of the prayer, as if glad to get out of God's presence." So many
believing and so many inquiring souls used to attend, and so few of
the worldlings, that you seemed to breathe the atmosphere of heaven.
But it was his Sabbath-day's services that brought multitudes
together, and were soon felt throughout the town. He was ever so ready
to assist his brethren so much engaged in every good work, and
latterly so often interrupted by inquiries, that it might be thought
he had no time for careful preparation, and might be excused for the
absence of it. But, in truth, he never preached without careful
attention bestowed on his subject. He might, indeed, have little
time--often the hours of a Saturday was all the time he could
obtain,--but his daily study of the Scriptures stored his mind, and
formed a continual preparation. Much of his Sabbath services was a
drawing out of what he had carried in during busy days of the week.
His voice was remarkably clear,--his manner attractive by its mild
dignity. His form itself drew the eye.[11] He spoke from the pulpit as
one earnestly occupied with the souls before him. He made them feel
sympathy with what he spoke, for his own eye and heart were on them.
He was, at the same time, able to bring out illustrations at once
simple and felicitous, often with poetic skill and elegance. He wished
to use Saxon words, for the sake of being understood by the most
illiterate in his audience. And while his style was singularly clear,
this clearness itself was so much the consequence of his being able
thoroughly to analyse and explain his subject, that all his hearers
alike reaped the benefit.
[11] "Gration est pulchro veniens e corpore virtus."
He went about his public work with awful reverence. So evident was
this, that I remember a countryman in my parish observed to me:
"Before he opened his lips, as he came along the passage, there was
something about him that sorely affected me." In the vestry there was
never any idle conversation; all was preparation of heart in
approaching God; and a short prayer preceded his entering the pulpit.
Surely in going forth to speak for God, a man may well be overawed!
Surely in putting forth his hand to sow the seed of the kingdom, a man
may even tremble! And surely we should aim at nothing less than to
pour forth the truth upon our people through the channel of our own
living and deeply affected souls.
After announcing the subject of his discourse, he used generally to
show the position it occupied in the context, and then proceed to
bring out the doctrines of the text, in the manner of our old divines.
This done, he divided his subject; and herein he was eminently
skilful. "The heads of his sermons," said a friend, "were not the
mile-stones that tell you how near you are to your journey's end, but
they were nails which fixed and fastened all he said. Divisions are
often dry; but not so _his_ divisions,--they were so textual and so
feeling, and they brought out the spirit of a passage so
surprisingly."
It was his wish to arrive nearer at the primitive mode of expounding
Scripture in his sermons. Hence when one asked him, If he was never
afraid of running short of sermons some day? he replied, "No; I am
just an interpreter of Scripture in my sermons; and when the Bible
runs dry, then I shall." And in the same spirit he carefully avoided
the too common mode of accommodating texts,--fastening a doctrine on
the words, not drawing it from the obvious connection of the passage.
He endeavored at all times to _preach the mind of the Spirit in a
passage_; for he feared that to do otherwise would be to grieve the
Spirit who had written it. Interpretation was thus a solemn matter to
him. And yet, adhering scrupulously to this sure principle, he felt
himself in no way restrained from using, for every day's necessities,
all parts of the Old Testament as much as the New. His manner was
first to ascertain the primary sense and application, and so proceed
to handle it for present use. Thus, on Isaiah 26:16-19, he began:
"This passage, I believe, refers _literally_ to the conversion of
God's ancient people." He regarded the _prophecies_ as _history yet to
be_, and drew lessons from them accordingly as he would have done from
the past. Every spiritual gift being in the hands of Jesus, if he
found Moses or Paul in the possession of precious things, he forthwith
was led to follow them into the presence of that same Lord who gave
them all their grace.
There is a wide difference between preaching _doctrine_ and preaching
_Christ_. Mr. M'Cheyne preached all the doctrines of Scripture as
understood by our Confession of Faith, dwelling upon ruin by the Fall,
and recovery by the Mediator. "The things of the human heart, and the
things of the Divine Mind," were in substance his constant theme. From
personal experience of deep temptation, he could lay open the secrets
of the heart, so that he once said, "He supposed the reason why some
of the worst sinners in Dundee had come to hear him was, because his
heart exhibited so much likeness to theirs." Still it was not
_doctrine_ alone that he preached; it was _Christ_, from whom all
doctrine shoots forth as rays from a centre. He sought to hang every
vessel and flagon upon Him. "It is strange," he wrote after preaching
on Revelation 1:15: "It is strange how sweet and precious it is to
preach directly about Christ, compared with all other subjects of
preaching." And he often expressed a dislike of the phrase "_giving
attention to religion_," because it seemed to substitute doctrine, and
a devout way of thinking, for _Christ himself_.
It is difficult to convey to those who never knew him a correct idea
of the sweetness and holy unction of his preaching. Some of his
sermons, printed from his own MSS. (although almost all are first
copies), may convey a correct idea of his style and mode of preaching
doctrine. But there are no notes that give any true idea of his
affectionate appeals to the heart and searching applications. These he
seldom wrote; they were poured forth at the moment when his heart
filled with his subject; for his rule was to set before his hearers a
body of truth first,--and there always was a vast amount of Bible
truth in his discourses,--and then urge home the application. His
exhortations flowed from his doctrine, and thus had both variety and
power. He was systematic in this; for he observed: "Appeals to the
careless, etc., come with power on the back of some massy truth. See
how Paul does (Acts 13:40), 'Beware, _therefore_, lest,' etc., and
(Hebrews 2:1), '_Therefore_ we should,'" etc.
He was sometimes a little unguarded in his statements, when his heart
was deeply moved and his feelings stirred, and sometimes he was too
long in his addresses; but this also arose from the fulness of his
soul. "Another word," he thought, "may be blessed, though the last has
made no impression."
Many will remember forever the blessed Communion Sabbaths that were
enjoyed in St. Peter's. From the very first these Communion seasons
were remarkably owned of God. The awe of his presence used to be upon
his people, and the house filled with the odor of the ointment, when
his name was poured forth (Song 1:3). But on common Sabbaths also many
soon began to journey long distances to attend St. Peter's,--many from
country parishes, who would return home with their hearts burning, as
they talked of what they had heard that day.
Mr. M'Cheyne knew the snare of popularity, and naturally was one that
would have been fascinated by it; but the Lord kept him.
He was sometimes extraordinarily helped in his preaching; but at other
times, though not perceived by his hearers, his soul felt as if left
to its own resources. The cry of Rowland Hill was constantly on his
lips, "Master, help!" and often is it written at the close of his
sermon. Much affliction, also, was a thorn in the flesh to him. He
described himself as often "strong as a giant when in the church, but
like a willow-wand when all was over." But certainly, above all, his
abiding sense of the divine favor was his safeguard. He began his
ministry in Dundee with this sunshine on his way. "As yet I have been
kept not only in the light of his reconciled countenance, but very
much under the guiding eye of our providing God. Indeed, as I remember
good old Swartz used to say, 'I could not have imagined that He could
have been so gracious to us.'" I believe that while he had some sorer
conflicts, he had also far deeper joy after his return from Palestine
than in the early part of his ministry, though from the very
commencement of it he enjoyed that sense of the love of God which
"keeps the heart and mind." (Phil. 4:7.) This was the true secret of
his holy walk, and of his calm humility. But for this, his ambition
would have become the only principle of many an action; but now the
sweeter love of God constrained him, and the natural ambition of his
spirit could be discerned only as suggesting to him the idea of making
attempts which others would have declined.
What monotony there is in the ministry of many! Duty presses on the
heels of duty in an endless circle. But it is not so when the Spirit
is quickening both the pastor and his flock. Then there is all the
variety of life. It was so here. The Lord began to work by his means
almost from the first day he came. There was ever one and another
stricken, and going apart to weep alone.
The flocking of souls to his ministry, and the deep interest excited,
drew the attention of many, and raised the wish in some quarters to
have him as their pastor. He had not been many months engaged in his
laborious work when he was solicited to remove to the parish of
Skirling, near Biggar. It was an offer that presented great advantages
above his own field of labor as to worldly gain, and in respect of the
prospect it held out of comparative ease and comfort; for the parish
was small and the emolument great. But as it is required of a bishop,
that he be "not greedy of filthy lucre," nay, that he be "one who has
no love of money" ([Greek: aphilarguros] 1 Tim. 3:3) at all, so was it
true that in him these qualifications eminently shone. His remarks in
a letter to his father contain the honest expression of his feelings:
"I am set down among nearly 4000 people; 1100 people have taken seats
in my church. I bring my message, such as it is, within the reach of
that great company every Sabbath-day. I dare not leave 3000 or 4000,
for 300 people. Had this been offered me before, I would have seen it
a direct intimation from God, and would heartily have embraced it. How
I should have delighted to feed so precious a little flock,--to watch
over every family,--to know every heart,--'to allure to brighter
worlds and lead the way!' But God has not so ordered it. He has set me
down among the noisy mechanics and political weavers of this godless
town. He will make the money sufficient. He that paid his taxes from a
fish's mouth, will supply all my need." He had already expressed the
hope, "Perhaps the Lord will make his wilderness of chimney-tops to be
green and beautiful as the garden of the Lord, a field which the Lord
hath blessed!"
His health was delicate; and the harassing care and endless fatigue
incident to his position, in a town like Dundee, seemed unsuitable to
his spirit. This belief led to another attempt to remove him to a
country sphere. In the summer of this same year (1837) he was strongly
urged to preach as a candidate for the vacant parish of St. Martin's,
near Perth, and assured of the appointment if he would only come
forward. But he declined again: "My Master has placed me here with his
own hand; and I never will, directly or indirectly, seek to be
removed."
There were circumstances in this latter case that made the call on him
appear urgent in several points of view. In coming to a resolution, he
mentions one interesting element in the decision, in a letter to me,
dated August 8th. "I was much troubled about being asked to go to a
neighboring parish at present vacant, and made it a matter of prayer;
and I mention it now because of the wonderful answer to prayer which I
think I received from God. I prayed that in order to settle my own
mind completely about staying, He would awaken some of my people. I
agreed that that should be a sign He would wish me to stay. The next
morning I think, or at least the second morning, there came to me two
young persons I had never seen before, in great distress. What brought
this to my mind was, that they came to me yesterday, and their
distress is greatly increased. Indeed I never saw any people in such
anguish about their soul. I cannot but regard this as a real answer to
prayer. I have also several other persons in deep distress, and I feel
that I am quite helpless in comforting them. I would fain be like
Noah, who put out his hand and took in the weary dove; but God makes
me stand by and feel that I am a child. Will God never cast the scenes
of our labor near each other? We are in his hand; let Him do as
seemeth Him good. Pray for me, for my people, for my own soul, that I
be not a cast away."
Few godly pastors can be willing to change the scene of their labors,
unless it be plain that the Cloudy Pillar is pointing them away. It is
perilous for men to choose for themselves; and too often has it
happened that the minister who, on slight grounds, moved away from his
former watch-tower, has had reason to mourn over the disappointment of
his hopes in his larger and wider sphere. But while this is admitted,
probably it may appear unwarrantable in Mr. M'Cheyne to have prayed
for a sign of the Lord's will. It is to be observed, however, that he
decided the point of duty on other grounds; and it was only with the
view of obtaining an additional confirmation by the occurrences of
providence, that he prayed in this manner, in submission to the will
of the Lord. He never held it right to decide the path of duty by any
such signs or tokens; he believed that the written word supplied
sufficient data for guiding the believing soul; and such providential
occurrences as happened in this case he regarded as important only as
far as they might be answers to prayer. Indeed, he himself has left us
a glance of his views on this point in a fragment, which (for it is
not dated) may have been written about this time. He had been thinking
on _Gideon's Fleece_.
When God called Gideon forth to fight--
"Go, save thou Israel in thy might,"--
The faithful warrior sought a sign
That God would on his labors shine.
The man who, at thy dread command,
Lifted the shield and deadly brand.
To do thy strange and fearful work--
Thy work of blood and vengeance, Lord!--
Might need assurance doubly tried,
To prove Thou wouldst his steps betide.
But when the message which we bring
Is one to make the dumb man sing;
To bid the blind man wash and see,
The lame to leap with ecstasy;
To raise the soul that's bowed down,
To wipe away the tears and frown
To sprinkle all the heart within
From the accusing voice of sin--
Then, such a sign my call to prove,
To preach my Saviour's dying love,
I cannot, dare not, hope to find.
In the close of the same year 1837, he agreed to become Secretary to
the Association for Church Extension in the country of Forfar. The
Church Extension Scheme, though much misrepresented and much
misunderstood, had in view as its genuine, sincere endeavor, to bring
to overgrown parishes the advantage of a faithful minister, placed
over such a number of souls as he could really visit. Mr. M'Cheyne
cheerfully and diligently forwarded these objects to the utmost of his
power. "It is the cause of God," said he, "and therefore I am willing
to spend and be spent for it." It compelled him to ride much from
place to place; but riding was an exercise of which he was fond, and
which was favorable to his health. As a specimen--"_Dec. 4, 1838._
Travelled to Montrose. Spoke along with Mr. Guthrie at a Church
Extension meeting; eight or nine hundred present. Tried to do
something in the Saviour's cause, both directly and indirectly. Next
day at Forfar. Spoke in the same cause."
How heartily he entered into this scheme may be seen from the
following extract. In a letter of an after date to Mr. Roxburgh, he
says: "Every day I live, I feel more and more persuaded that it is the
cause of God and of his kingdom in Scotland in our day. Many a time,
when I thought myself a dying man, the souls of the perishing
thousands in my own parish, who never enter any house of God, have
lain heavy on my heart. Many a time have I prayed that the eyes of our
enemies might be opened, and that God would open the hearts of our
rulers, to feel that their highest duty and greatest glory is to
support the ministers of Christ, and to send these to every perishing
soul in Scotland." He felt that their misery was all the greater, and
their need the deeper, that such neglected souls had no wish for help,
and would never ask for it themselves. Nor was it that he imagined
that, if churches were built and ministers endowed, this would of
itself be sufficient to reclaim the multitudes of perishing men. But
he sought and expected that the Lord would send faithful men into his
vineyard. These new churches were to be like cisterns--ready to catch
the shower when it should fall, just as his own did in the day of the
Lord's power.
His views on this subject were summed up in the following lines,
written one day as he sat in company with some of his zealous brethren
who were deeply engaged in the scheme:
Give me a man of God the truth to preach,
A house of prayer within convenient reach,
Seat-rents the poorest of the poor can pay,
A spot so small one pastor can survey:
Give these--and give the Spirit's genial shower,
Scotland shall be a garden all in flower!
Another public duty to which, during all the years of his ministry, he
gave constant attention, was attendance at the meetings of presbytery.
His candor, and uprightness, and Christian generosity, were felt by
all his brethren; and his opinion, though the opinion of so young a
man, was regarded with more than common respect. In regard to the
great public questions that were then shaking the Church of Scotland,
his views were decided and unhesitating. No policy, in his view, could
be more ruinous to true Christianity, or more fitted to blight vital
godliness, than that of Moderatism. He wrote once to a friend in
Ireland: "You don't know what Moderatism is. It is a plant that our
heavenly Father never planted, and I trust it is now to be rooted up."
The great question of the Church's independence of the Civil Power in
all matters spiritual, and the right of the Christian people to judge
if the pastor appointed over them had the Shepherd's voice, he
invariably held to be part of Scripture truth, which, therefore, must
be preached and carried into practice, at all hazards. In like manner
he rejoiced exceedingly in the settlements of faithful ministers. The
appointments of Mr. Baxter to Hilltown, Mr. Lewis to St. David's, and
Mr. Miller to Wallacetown at a later period, are all noticed by him
with expressions of thankfulness and joy; and it occasioned the same
feelings if he heard of the destitution of any parish in any part of
the country supplied. He writes, _Sept. 20, 1838_: "Present at A.B.'s
ordination at Collace with great joy. Blessed be God for the gift of
this pastor. Give testimony to the word of thy grace."
Busy at home, he nevertheless always had a keenly evangelistic spirit.
He might have written much and have gained a name by his writings; but
he laid everything aside when put in comparison with preaching the
everlasting gospel. He scarcely ever refused an invitation to preach
on a week-day; and travelling from place to place did not interrupt
his fellowship with God. His occasional visits during these years were
much blessed. At Blairgowrie and Collace his visits were longed for as
times of special refreshment; nor was it less so at Kirriemuir, when
he visited Mr. Cormick, or at Abernyte in the days when Mr. Hamilton
(now of Regent Square, London), and afterwards Mr. Manson, were
laboring in that vineyard. It would be difficult even to enumerate the
places which he watered at Communion seasons; and in some of these it
was testified of him, that not the words he spoke, but the _holy
manner_ in which he spoke, was the chief means of arresting souls.
Occasionally two or three of us, whose lot was cast within convenient
distance, and whose souls panted for the same water-brooks, used to
meet together to spend a whole day in confession of ministerial and
personal sins, with prayer for grace, guiding ourselves by the reading
of the word. At such times we used to meet in the evening with the
flock of the pastor in whose house the meeting had been held through
the day, and there unitedly pray for the Holy Spirit being poured down
upon the people. The first time we held such a meeting, there were
tokens of blessing observed by several of us; and the week after he
wrote: "Has there been any fruit of the happy day we spent with you? I
thought I saw some the Sabbath after, here. In due season we shall
reap if we faint not; only be thou strong, and of a good courage." The
incident that encouraged him is recorded in his diary. An elderly
person came to tell him how the river of joy and peace in believing
had that Sabbath most singularly flowed through her soul, so that she
blessed God that she ever came to St. Peter's. He adds "_N.B._--This
seems a fruit of our prayer-meeting, begun last Wednesday at
Collace,--one drop of the shower."
It should have been remarked ere now, that during all his ministry he
was careful to use not only the direct means appointed for the
conversion of souls, but those also that appear more indirect, such as
the key of discipline. In regard to the Lord's Supper, his little
tract explains his views. He believed that to keep back those whose
profession was a credible profession, even while the pastor might have
strong doubts as to their fitness in his own mind, was not the rule
laid down for us in the New Testament. At the same time, he as
steadily maintained that no unconverted person _ought to come_ to the
Lord's Table; and on this point "they should judge themselves if they
would not be judged."
When communicants came to be admitted for the first time, or when
parents that had been communicants before came for baptism to their
children, it was his custom to ask them solemnly if their souls were
saved. His dealing was blessed to the conversion of not a few young
persons who were coming carelessly forward to the Communion; and
himself records the blessing that attended his faithful Healing with a
parent coming to speak with him about the baptism of his child. The
man said that he had been taking a thought, and believed himself in
the right way--that he felt his disposition better, for he could
forgive injuries. Mr. M'Cheyne showed him that nevertheless he was
ignorant of God's righteousness. The man laid it to heart; and when
Mr. M'Cheyne said that he thought it would be better to defer the
baptism, at once offered to come again and speak on the matter. On a
subsequent visit, he seemed really to have seen his error, and to have
cast away his own righteousness. When his child was baptized, it was
joy to the pastor's heart to have the good hope that the man had
received salvation.
In connection with the superstitious feeling of the most depraved as
to baptism, he related an affecting occurrence. A careless parent one
evening entered his house, and asked him to come with him to baptize a
dying child. He knew that neither this man nor his wife ever entered
the door of a church; but he rose and went with him to the miserable
dwelling. There an infant lay, apparently dying; and many of the
female neighbors, equally depraved with the parents, stood round. He
came forward to where the child was, and spoke to the parents of their
ungodly state and fearful guilt before God, and concluded by showing
them that, in such circumstances, he would consider it sinful in him
to administer baptism to their infant. They said, "He might at least
do it for the sake of the poor child." He told them that it was not
baptism that saved a soul, and that out of true concern for themselves
he must not do as they wished. The friends around the bed then joined
the parents in upbraiding him as having no pity on the poor infant's
soul! He stood among them still, and showed them that it was they who
had been thus cruel to their child; and then lifted up his voice in
solemn warning, and left the house amid their ignorant reproaches.
Nor did he make light of the kirk-session's power to rebuke and deal
with an offender. Once from the pulpit, at an ordination of elders, he
gave the following testimony upon this head: "When I first entered
upon the work of the ministry among you, I was exceedingly ignorant of
the vast importance of church discipline. I thought that my great and
almost only work was to pray and preach. I saw your souls to be so
precious, and the time so short, that I devoted all my time, and care,
and strength, to labor in word and doctrine. When cases of discipline
were brought before me and the elders, I regarded them with something
like abhorrence. It was a duty I shrank from; and I may truly say it
nearly drove me from the work of the ministry among you altogether.
But it pleased God, who teaches his servants in another way than man
teaches, to bless some of the cases of discipline to the manifest and
undeniable conversion of the souls of those under our care; and from
that hour a new light broke in upon my mind, and I saw that if
preaching be an ordinance of Christ, so is church discipline. I now
feel very deeply persuaded that both are of God,--that two keys are
committed to us by Christ: the one the key of doctrine, by means of
which we unlock the treasures of the Bible; the other the key of
discipline, by which we open or shut the way to the sealing ordinances
of the faith. Both are Christ's gift, and neither is to be resigned
without sin."
There was still another means of enforcing what he preached, in the
use of which he has excelled all his brethren, namely, the holy
consistency of his daily walk. Aware that one idle word, one needless
contention, one covetous act, may destroy in our people the effect of
many a solemn expostulation and earnest warning, he was peculiarly
circumspect in his every-day walk. He wished to be always in the
presence of God. If he travelled, he labored to enjoy God by the way,
as well as to do good to others by dropping a word in season. In
riding or walking, he seized opportunities of giving a useful tract;
and, on principle, he preferred giving it to the person directly,
rather than casting it on the road. The former way, he said, was more
open--there was no stealth in it; and we ought to be as clear as
crystal in speaking or acting for Jesus. In writing a note, however
short, he sought to season it with salt. If he passed a night in a
strange place, he tried to bear the place specially on his soul at the
mercy-seat; and if compelled to take some rest from his too exhausting
toils, his recreations were little else than a change of occupation,
from one mode of glorifying God to another.[12] His beautiful hymn, _I
am a debtor_, was written in May 1837, at a leisure hour.
[12] Baxter's words are not less than the truth: "Recreation to a
minister must be as whetting is with the mower, that is, only to
be used so far as is necessary for his work. May a physician in
the plague-time take any more relaxation or recreation than is
necessary for his life, when so many are expecting his help in a
case of life and death?" "Will you stand by and see sinners
grasping under the pangs of death, and say, God doth not require
me to make myself a drudge to save them? Is this the voice of
ministerial or Christian compassion, or rather of _sensual
laziness and diabolical cruelty_?"--_Ref. Past_. 6:6
Whatever be said in the pulpit, men will not much regard, though they
may feel it at the time, if the minister does not say the same in
private with equal earnestness, in speaking with his people face to
face; and it must be in our moments of most familiar intercourse with
them, that we are thus to put the seal to all we say in public.
Familiar moments are the times when the things that are most closely
twined round the heart are brought out to view; and shall we forbear,
by tacit consent, to introduce the Lord that bought us into such happy
hours? We must not only speak faithfully to our people in our sermons,
but live faithfully for them too. Perhaps it may be found, that the
reason why many who preach the gospel fully and in all earnestness are
not owned of God in the conversion of souls, is to be found in their
defective exhibition of grace in these easy moments of life. "Them
that honor me, I will honor," I Samuel 2:30. It was noticed long ago
that men will give you leave to _preach against_ their sins as much as
you will, if so be you will but be easy with them when you have done,
and talk as they do, and live as they live. How much otherwise it was
with Mr. M'Cheyne, all who knew him are witnesses.
His visits to friends were times when he sought to do good to their
souls; and never was he satisfied unless he could guide the
conversation to bear upon the things of eternity. When he could not do
so, he generally remained silent. And yet his demeanor was easy and
pleasant to all, exhibiting at once meekness of faith and delicacy of
feeling. There was in his character a high refinement that came out in
poetry and true politeness; and there was something in his graces that
reminded one of his own remark, when explaining _the spices_ of Song
4:16, when he said that "some believers were a garden that had
fruit-trees, and so were useful; but we ought also to have _spices_,
and so be attractive." Wishing to convey his grateful feelings to a
fellow-laborer in Dundee, he sent him a Hebrew Bible, with these few
lines prefixed:--
Anoint mine eyes,
O holy dove!
That I may prize
This book of love.
Unstop mine ear,
Made deaf by sin,
That I may hear
Thy voice within.
Break my hard heart,
Jesus, my Lord;
In the inmost part
Hide thy sweet word.
It was on a similar occasion, in 1838, that he wrote the lines, _Thy
word is a lamp unto my feet_. At another time, sitting under a shady
tree, and casting his eye on the hospitable dwelling in which he found
a pleasant retreat, his grateful feelings flowed out to his kind
friend in the lines that follow:--
"PEACE TO THIS HOUSE."
Long may peace within this dwelling
Have its resting-place;
Angel shields all harm repelling,--
God, their God of grace.
May the dove-like Spirit guide them
To the upright land!
May the Saviour-shepherd fed them
From his gentle hand!
Never was there one more beloved as a friend, and seldom any whose
death could cause so many to feel as if no other friend could ever
occupy his room. Some, too, can say that so much did they learn from
his holy walk, "that it is probable a day never passes wherein they
have not some advantage from his friendship."[13]
[13] [Greek: Egô men dê katanoôn tou andros tên te sophian kai
tên gennaiotêta oute mê memnêsthai dynamai autou, oute memnêmenos
mê ouk epainein. Ei de tis tôn aretês ephiemenôn ôphelimôterô
tini Sôkratous synegeneto ekeinon egô ton andra
axiomakariototaton nomizô.]
I find written on the leaf of one of his note-books, a short
memorandum: "_Rules worth remembering._--When visiting in a family,
whether ministerially or otherwise, speak particularly to _the
strangers_ about eternal things. Perhaps God has brought you together
just to save that soul." And then he refers to some instances which
occurred to himself, in which God seemed to honor a word spoken in
this incidental way.
In this spirit he was enabled for nearly three years to give his
strength to his Master's service. Sickness sometimes laid him aside,
and taught him what he had to suffer; but he rose from it to go forth
again to his joyful labors. Often, after a toilsome day, there were
inquirers waiting for him, so that he had to begin work afresh in a
new form. But this was his delight; it was a kind of interruption
which he allowed even on a Saturday, in the midst of his studies. He
was led to resolve not to postpone any inquirers till a future time,
by finding that having done so on one occasion at a pressing moment,
the individuals never returned; and so alive was he to the
responsibilities of his office, that he ever after feared to lose such
an opportunity of speaking with souls at a time when they were aroused
to concern. Busy one evening with some extra-parochial work, he was
asked if any person should be admitted to see him that night.
"Surely--what do we live for?" was his immediate reply. It was his
manner, too, on a Saturday afternoon, to visit one or two of his sick
who seemed near the point of death, with the view of being thus
stirred up to a more direct application of the truth to his flock on
the morrow, as dying men on the edge of eternity.
We have already observed that in his doctrine there was nothing that
differed from the views of truth laid down in the standards of our
church. He saw no inconsistency in preaching an electing God, who
"calleth whom He will," and a salvation free to "whosoever will;" nor
in declaring the absolute sovereignty of God, and yet the unimpaired
responsibility of man. He preached Christ as a gift laid down by the
Father for every sinner freely to take. In the beginning of his
ministry, as he preached the fulness of the glad tidings, and urged on
his people that there was enough in the glad tidings to bring direct
and immediate assurance to every one who really believed them, some of
his flock were startled. For he ever preached, that, while it is true
that there are believers, like Heman or Asaph, who do not enjoy full
assurance of the love of God, yet certainly no true believer should
remain satisfied in the absence of this blessed peace. Not a few had
hitherto been accustomed to take for granted that they might be
Christians, though they knew of no change, and had never thought of
enjoying the knowledge of the love of God as their present portion.
They heard that others, who were reckoned believers, had doubts; so
they had come to consider fears and doubts as the very marks of a
believing soul. The consequence had been, that in past days many
concluded themselves to be Christians because they seemed to be in the
very state of mind of which those who were reputed to be believers
spoke, viz. doubt and alarm. Alas! in _their_ case there could be
nothing else, for they had only a name to live.
Some one wrote to him, putting several questions concerning
conversion, assurance, and faith, which had been stirred up by his
ministry. The import of the questions may be gathered from his reply,
which was as follows:--
"1. _I doubt if there are many saints who live and die without a
comfortable sense of forgiveness and acceptance with God._ The saints
of whom the Bible speaks seem to have enjoyed it richly both in life
and death. See the murderers of our Lord, Acts 2:41; the Ethiopian,
Acts 8:39; the jailor, Acts 16:35. David also felt it, sinful man
though he was, Romans 4:6. Paul also prayed that the Romans might have
it, Romans 15:13. I fear this objection is generally made by those
who are living in sin, and do not wish to know the dangerous road they
are on.
"2. _A sense of forgiveness does not proceed from marks seen in
yourself, but from a discovery of the beauty, worth, and freeness of
Christ,_ Psalm 34:5. We look _out_ for peace, not _in_. At the same
time, there is also an assurance rising from what we see in ourselves;
the seal of the Spirit, love to the brethren, etc., are the chief
marks.
"3. _Feeling a body of sin is a mark that we are like Paul, and that
we are Christ's,_ Rom. 7; Gal. 5:17. Paul was cheerful with a body of
sin; and so ought we to be. So was David, and all the saints.
"4. _I do not think there is any difference between those converted
within these few years and those who were Christians before._ Many of
those converted since I came are, I fear, very unholy. I fear this
more than anything. I fear there is too much talk and too little
reality. Still there are many good figs,--many of whom I am persuaded
better things, and things that accompany salvation. The answer to your
question I fear is this, that many used to be taken for Christians
before, who had only a name to live, and were dead. I think there is
more discrimination now. But take care and be not proud, for that goes
before a fall. Take care of censorious judging of others, as if all
must be converted in the same way.
"God moves in a mysterious way. He hath mercy on whom He will have
mercy. To Him alone be glory."
He thus stated his views on another occasion. Referring to Song 6:3,
"My beloved is mine," following "My beloved is gone down into his
garden," he said, "This is the faith of assurance,--a complete,
unhesitating embracing of Christ as my righteousness and my strength
and my all. A common mistake is, that this clear conviction that
Christ is mine is an attainment far on in the divine life, and that it
springs from evidences seen in my heart. When I see myself a new
creature, Christ on the throne in my heart, love to the brethren,
etc., it is often thought that I may begin then to say, 'My Beloved is
mine.' How different this passage! The moment Jesus comes down into
the garden to the beds of spices,--the moment He reveals himself, the
soul cries out, 'My Beloved is mine!' So saith Thomas, John 20:27, 28.
The moment Jesus came in and revealed his wounds, Thomas cried out,
'My Lord and my God.' He did not look to see if he was believing, or
if the graces of love and humility were reigning; but all he saw and
thought of was Jesus and Him crucified and risen." At a subsequent
period, when preaching on Matt. 11:28, "Come unto me," he said, "I
suppose it is almost impossible to explain what it is to come to
Jesus, it is so simple. If you ask a sick person who had been healed,
what it was to come and be healed, he could hardly tell you. As far as
the Lord has given me light in this matter, and looking at what my own
heart does in like circumstances, I do not feel that there is anything
more in coming to Jesus, than just believing what God says about his
Son to be true. I believe that many people keep themselves in darkness
by expecting something more than this. Some of you will ask, 'Is there
no _appropriating_ of Christ? no _putting out the hand of faith_? no
touching the hem of his garment?' I quite grant, beloved, there is
such a thing, but I do think it is inseparable from believing the
record. If the Lord persuades you of the glory and power of Emmanuel,
I feel persuaded that you cannot but choose Him. It is like opening
the shutters of a dark room; the sun that moment shines in. So, the
eye that is opened to the testimony of God, receives Christ that
moment."
In the case of a faithful ministry, success is the rule; want of it
the exception. For it is written: "In doing this thou shalt both save
thyself and them that hear thee," I Tim. 4:16. Mr. M'Cheyne expected
it, and the Lord exceeded all his hopes.
It was not yet common for persons in anxiety to go to their pastor for
advice; but soon it became an almost weekly occurrence. While it was
yet rare, two of his young people wrote a joint note, asking liberty
to come and speak with him, "for we are anxious about our souls."
Among those who came, there were those who had striven against the
truth; persons who used to run out of hearing when the Bible was
read,--throw down a tract if the name of God was in it,--go quickly to
sleep after a Sabbath's pleasure in order to drown the fear of
dropping into hell. There were many whose whole previous life had been
but a threadbare profession. There were some open sinners, too. In
short, the Lord glorified himself by the variety of those whom his
grace subdued, and the variety of means by which his grace reached
its object.
One could tell him that the reading of the chapter in the church, with
a few remarks, had been the time of her awakening. Another had been
struck to the heart by some expression he used in his first prayer
before sermon one Sabbath morning. But most were arrested in the
preaching of the word. An interesting case was that of one who was
aroused to concern during his sermon on _Unto whom coming as unto a
living stone_. As he spoke of the Father taking the gem out of his
bosom, and laying it down for a foundation-stone, she felt in her
soul, "I know nothing of this precious stone; I am surely not
converted." This led her to come and speak with him. She was not under
deep conviction; but before going away, he said, "You are a poor, vile
worm; it is a wonder the earth does not open and swallow you up."
These words were blessed to produce a very awful sense of sin. She
came a second time with the arrows of the Almighty drinking up her
spirit. For three months she remained in this state, till having once
more come to him for counsel, the living voice of Jesus gave life to
her soul while he was speaking of Christ's words, "If thou knewest the
gift of God," etc., and she went away rejoicing. Some awakened souls
told him that since they were brought under concern, very many
sermons, which they had heard from him before and completely
forgotten, had been brought back to mind. He used to remark that this
might show what the resurrection day would awaken in the souls of
gospel hearers.
In dealing with souls he used to speak very plainly. One came to him
who assented to his statements of the gospel, and yet refused to be
comforted, always looking upon _coming to Christ_ as something in
addition to really believing the record God has given of his Son. He
took John 3:16, 17: "For God so loved the world, that," etc. The woman
said that "God did not care for her." Upon this he at once convicted
her of making God a liar; and, as she went away in deep distress, his
prayer was, "Lord, give her light!"
To another person, who spoke of having times of great joy, he showed
that these were times for worshipping God in the spirit. "You would
come to a king when you were full dressed; so come to God, and abide
in his presence as long as you can."
Sometimes he would send away souls, of whom he entertained good hope,
with a text suited to their state. "If ye live after the flesh, ye
shall die; but if ye, through the Spirit, do mortify the deeds of the
body, ye shall live." Or he would say, "I hear of you that God has
opened your heart; but remember not to trust to man's opinion.
Remember an all-seeing Christ will be the judge at the great day." To
another he said, "I have long hoped you were really under the wings of
the Saviour; if it be so, abide there; do not be like Demas."
To a prayer-meeting, consisting of a few young men that had been
awakened to flee from wrath, he gave this advice: "Guard against all
ambition to excel one another in expression. Remember the most
spiritual prayer is 'a groan which cannot be uttered,' Rom. 8:26; or a
cry of 'Abba, Father,' Gal. 4:6."
There is very little recorded in his diary during these years, but
what does exist will be read with deepest interest.
"_March 28, 1838_, Thursday.--I think of making this more a journal of
my people, and the success or otherwise of my ministry. The first
success among my people was at the time of my first Sacrament: then it
appeared. My first sermon, on Isa. 61:1, was blessed to ---- and some
others. That on Ezek. 22:14, 'Can thine heart endure,' etc., was
blessed to awaken M.L. That on Song 5:2, 'Open to me,' etc., the
Sabbath after the Sacrament, was blessed to another. These were happy
days. M.D. was awakened by coming to the communicants' class. Another
by the action sermon. At the words, 'I know thee, Judas,' she
trembled, and would have risen from the table. These were glad days
when one and another were awakened. The people looked very stirred and
anxious, every day coming to hear the words of eternal life,--some
inquiring in private every week. Now there is little of this. About
fifteen cases came to my knowledge the first Sacrament, and two
awakened who seem to have gone back. About eleven last Sacrament,--four
of these young men. Several Christians seemed quickened to greater
joy, and greater love one to another. Now it appears to me there is
much falling off,--few seem awakened; few weep as they used to do."
"_April 1_, Sacrament day.--Sweet season we have had. Never was more
straitened and unfurnished in myself, and yet much helped. Kept in
perfect peace, my mind being stayed on Thee. Preached on 'My God, my
God,' etc., Psalm 22:1. Not fully prepared, yet found some peace in
it. Fenced the tables from 'Christ's eyes of flame.' Little helped in
serving the tables. Much peace in communion. Happy to be one with
Christ! _I_, a vile worm; _He_, the Lord my righteousness. Mr. Cumming
of Dumbarney served some tables; Mr. Somerville of Anderston served
three, and preached in the evening on 'Thou art all fair, my love.'
Very full and refreshing. All sweet, sweet services. Come, thou north
wind, and blow, thou south, upon this garden! May this time be greatly
blessed! It is my third communion; it may be my last. My Lord may
come, or I may be sitting at another table soon. Moody, Candlish, and
Mellis, were a good preparation for this day; and the sweet word from
Cumming yesterday, 'When the poor and needy seek water,' etc. Lord,
grant some wakening this day,--to some bringing peace--comfort to
mourners,--fulness to believers,--an advance in holiness in me and my
children! III John 4. Lord, wean me from my sins, from my cares, and
from this passing world. May Christ be all in all to me."
"Admitted about twenty-five young communicants; kept two back, and one
or two stayed back. Some of them evidently brought to Christ. May the
Lord be their God, their comforter, their all! May the morrow bring
still richer things to us, that we may say as of to-night, 'Thou hast
kept the good wine until now.'"
Toward the close of this same year some of his notices are as
follows:--
"_Oct. 7_, Evening.--In the Gaelic Chapel, on 'I know that my Redeemer
liveth,' with more seeming power on the people than for a while. I
never remember of compelling souls to come in to Christ so much as in
that discourse."
"_Oct. 8._--A person of the name of ---- came; I hope really awakened
by last night's work; rather, by _Thee_. I do not know, however,
whether _grace_ is begun or not."
"_Oct. 14._--Preached on 'Forgiving injuries.' Afternoon--on the
Second Coming: 'Let your loins be girded about,' etc. Felt its power
myself more than ever before, how the sudden coming of the Saviour
constrains to a holy walk, separate from sin. Evening--Preached it
over in the Ferry."
"_Oct. 21._--Met young communicants in the evening. Good hope of all
but one."
"_Oct. 22._--A Jew preached in my church, Mr. Frey, to a crowded
house. Felt much moved in hearing an Israelite after the flesh."
"Oct. 23.--Preached to sailors aboard the 'Dr. Carey,' in the docks.
About 200, very attentive and impressed like. On 'I know that my
Redeemer liveth.' May the seed sown on the waters be found after many
days."
"_Nov. 1_, Fast-day.--Afternoon--Mr. C. on 'The thief on the Cross.' A
most awakening and engaging sermon, enough to make sinners fly like a
cloud, and as doves to their windows. The offers of Christ were let
down very low so that those low of stature may take hold."
"_Nov. 5._--Mr. ---- died this morning at seven o'clock. Oh that I may
take warning, lest, after preaching to others, I myself be a castaway!
Love of popularity is said to have been his besetting sin."
"_Dec. 2._--Errol Communion. Heard Mr. Grierson preach on Christ's
entry into Jerusalem. Served two tables. Evening--Preached to a large
congregation, on 'Unto you, O men, I call,' etc. The free invitation
of the Saviour. May some find Him this day!"
In addition to the other blessings which the Lord sent by his means to
the place where he labored, it was obvious to all that the tone of
Christians was raised as much by his holy walk as by his heavenly
ministry. Yet during these pleasant days he had much reproach to bear.
He was the object of supercilious contempt to formal cold-hearted
ministers, and of bitter hatred to many of the ungodly. At this day
there are both ministers and professing Christians of whom Jesus would
say, "The world cannot hate you" (John 7:7), for the world cannot hate
itself; but it was not so with Mr. M'Cheyne. Very deep was the enmity
borne to him by some,--all the deeper, because the only cause of it
was his likeness to his Master. But nothing turned him aside. He was
full of ardor, yet ever gentle, and meek, and generous; full of zeal,
yet never ruffled by his zeal; and not only his strength of "first
love" (Rev. 2:4), but even its warm glow, seemed in him to suffer no
decay.
Thus he spent the first years of his ministry in Dundee. The town
began to feel that they had a peculiar man of God in the midst of
them, for he lived as a true son of Levi. "My covenant was with him of
life and peace, and I gave them to him for the fear wherewith he
feared me, and was afraid before my name. The law of truth was in his
mouth, and iniquity was not found on his lips; he walked with me in
peace and equity; and did turn many away from iniquity." Mal. 2:5, 6.