TAKING UP THE CLOAK.
Amongst the friends of Duff there was one to him especially dear; this
young man's name was John Urquhart. Theirs was a love to last unto
death, and even after death, for its strength was this: that both the
friends adored the same Lord, both delighted in His service, and both
looked forward to dwelling together in a bright home beyond the grave.
Often when Duff went in holiday time to his parents' house, he talked
to them much about John Urquhart. He told how one day Urquhart,
addressing his follow-students, had told them that he was going to
devote himself to Missionary work, and charged every one of his
companions to think seriously over the subject of spreading the Gospel
in heathen lands. The name of John Urquhart had grown quite familiar to
the parents of Alexander Duff, from the accounts of him given to them
by their son, as he sat and talked with them by the cheerful fire-light
in their home amidst the Grampian Hills.
Perhaps Duff's mother sometimes thought, "I am glad that it is Urquhart
and not my Aleck who is going so far away. My clever son will be a
pastor and dwell near us, and I shall hear him when he stands in the
pulpit, preaching the Word with that eloquence which every one praises!
I shall watch his success, oh! with what gladness and pride! I wonder
if Urquhart has a mother, and, if so, how she can bear to part with
such a son! I am thankful that my Aleck is not to be a Missionary like
his friend."
A time arrived when Alexander Duff came home for his winter vacation
with a sad heart and a burdened mind. His parents welcomed him, as
usual, with tender love, and he brightened up to cheer them; nothing
seems to have passed at first to awaken his mother's fears. Doubtless
she spread the table with the nice bannocks of barley meal which she
had prepared with her own hands, and stirred the fire to a brighter
blaze, and fondly gazed on the face of her son, now a fine young man in
the prime of his strength. Duff sat and talked of many things, for when
he returned from college he had always much to tell, and he related
stories with such spirit, that it was ever a pleasure to listen. But
it surprised Duff's parents that he did not so much as mention John
Urquhart, the favourite friend who used to be a principal theme of his
talk.
"What of your friend Urquhart?" at last exclaimed the father.
A change came over the face of Duff. Doubtless his heart beat faster,
not only because his father's word had touched a wound, but because the
moment had come for him to say something which he too well knew would
give his dear hearers pain.
"Urquhart is no more!" cried Duff, thus suddenly announcing the death
of the youth who had devoted himself to Missionary work, but who had
been summoned early to his rest before he could enter on such labours.
Then, gathering courage to say what he felt must be said, Duff slowly
and wistfully added, perhaps glancing at his poor fond mother, "What if
your son should take up his cloak?" By which he meant, should take up
his Mission work and go out to India in his place. "You approved the
motive that directed the choice of Urquhart, you commended his high
purpose." Then Duff added the words which announced his own dedication
to the cause, words which must have thrilled to his parents' souls,
"'The cloak is taken up.'"
The father and mother were at first too much startled to speak. We are
not told what followed. The parents were pious indeed, but they may
have felt somewhat as holy Abraham felt when called on by God to offer
up the only son whom he loved. We do not know whether the mother threw
her arms round the neck of her son and wept, or if the father's face
betrayed an inward struggle. We only know that both parents consented
at last to part with their hope and pride, never perhaps in this world
to behold his dear face again. They would not hinder him from obeying
the call of his God, heard in his childhood's dream,—"Come up hither, I
have work for thee to do."
And what was this work taken up by Duff, as a legacy from his friend, a
work for which he was ready to leave and to suffer all?
Ere the Lord Jesus left earth He gave a last charge to his disciples,
"Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature."
In the command followed a promise, "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto
the end."
Obeying that command, and resting on that promise, from the earliest
ages Christians have gone forth to give glad tidings of salvation to
other nations. Men, aye and women, have cheerfully left country and
home to say to those thirsting for eternal life,—
"'Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters!' We have found
the Fountain of life, and we bid you also come and drink. Oh! Weary
and heavy-laden with the burden of sin, come to Him who has taken away
'our sin.' Christ has opened the door of heaven to us, and we would not
enter alone. Come dear brothers—sisters, come Hindu, Mahomedan, Sikh,
come all ye children of men, share with us the inheritance of glory,
share with us the Kingdom of Heaven!"
What Duff thought of a Missionary's calling may be shown from his own
words. A Missionary Committee had offered to send him out to labour in
Calcutta, and after much prayer and searching of heart he was able to
write thus:—
"I am now prepared to reply to the Committee in the words of the
prophet, 'here am I, send me.' The work is most arduous, but is of
God and must prosper. Many sacrifices painful to flesh and blood must
be made, but not any correspondent to the glory of winning souls to
Christ. With the thought of this glory I feel myself almost transported
with joy; everything else appears to fall out of view as vain and
insignificant."
Mr. Duff was now ordained as a clergyman, and before he departed for
India, preached missionary sermons and gave discourses which came with
much force from one who was offering himself up, body and soul, for the
cause for which he pleaded. In one church, with tears gushing from his
eyes, thus the young missionary spoke:—
"There was a time when I had no care or concern for the heathen, that
was a time when I had no care or concern for my own soul. When, by the
grace of God, I was led to care for my own soul, then it was that began
to care for the heathen abroad. In my closet, on my bended knees, I
then said to God, 'Oh! Lord! Thou knowest that silver and gold to give
to this cause I have none; what I have I give unto Thee; I offer Thee
myself, will Thou accept the gift?"
Duff tried to comfort and cheer his parents. He prayed his dear mother
not to make an idol of her son. He wrote lovingly to his father,—
"Will you be a loser by so giving me up to the Lord, and so praising
Him for His goodness in having called me to so mighty a work? No, God
will bless you with the blessing of Abraham, will enrich you with his
faith and reward, and will reward you a thousand fold for your willing
resignation and cheerful readiness in obeying God's command. The Lord
bless you and my dear mother!"
And so Alexander Duff prepared to go forth to a strange land, and a
people whose language he knew not, believing it to be likely that he
never would return again to his dearly loved Scotland.
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