Resettlement in Perth, and Work There, 1858–1866

R, MILNE arrives safely in London; and, after spending a week there, goes down to St. Leonardson-Sea towards the end of November. He enjoys the quiet, but longs for work. On the gth December 1857, he thus writes to Mr. Mackenzie from St. Leonards-on-Sea:- — ‘We are comfortably and quietly settled here, and I am enjoying the rest. In looking back, as we naturally do in such circumstances, we see much to regret and lament, and are glad to betake ourselves afresh to Him who is ever willing to cast His skirt over us, and say, Peace be to you. I trust that Just and Blessed One is becoming better known to you, and growingly precious, as you pass on your way. The under-shepherds come and go, but He ever abides,’

He visits Edinburgh and Glasgow in January. His old Perth flock (with some exceptions) seek his return to them, they being, in God’s mysterious providence, at that time without a pastor. Before the call reaches him, he hears of the desire to secure his return to Perth,

1 Though his eye turns to his old flock, he refuses to take any step to forward his return to them. ‘I am still as of old,’ he writes, ‘the

Ua eet ee 2 ee

‘Professor Bannerman,’ he writes (Jan. 12, 1858), ‘met me the other day, and said —

‘& So you are going back to your old nest?”

‘“That’s still a question.”

‘“No, no; you are going back, and you will find it warm yet.”

‘It will indeed be very strange if I should again be settled among you. I quite agree with Mr. Burns, that, in our altered circumstances, I cannot expect everything to be quite square and smooth. You sent me away in a kind of chariot of flame, filled with the love of an affectionate people. If I return, it will be in a lowlier guise; and, perhaps, this is the best for us all,’

On the 30th of January the call reaches him in Edinburgh. He accepts it. ‘A busy but happy month’ is his record at this time. He returns for a little to St. Leonardson-Sea. There is some little division among his old people; but he is led to carry out his acceptance of the call, and is settled among them on the 4th of March 1858; ‘ meeting with much kindness and loving welcome.’ He goes to London to bring Mrs. Milne home; meets with an old school companion, and hears full tidings about Peterhead, the place of his birth. He congratulates himself that he has not connected himself with the English Presbyterian Church, ‘which seems about to divide on the organ question.’

His May journal is brief: ‘ Life passing on quietly, with many mercies.’ ‘Kept in peace.’ ‘Helped in my work, though feeble.’ ‘I feel the necessity of refusing dark,

man of peace, and am as fond as ever of peace and harmony in the house of God. I should wish, therefore, to wait quietly till the Lord clearly point out to me my future field of labour. He has blessed me hitherto, and I know that He will bless me still.’

Wn re en I hard thoughts of God.’ Thus he writes his feelings in easy, happy measure : —

“Belov’d of Jesus, whence thy fear,
Thy frequent sigh, thy dropping tear?
Should not this thought thy spirit cheer,
He cares for thee?

Thy way, I know, is strange and new,
Thy dear ones gone, thy helpers few;
But still this word remaineth true —

‘He cares for thee!

Thy work is great, thy strength is small,

And thoughts of failure on thee fall;

But in thy weakness on Him call,
“He cares for thee!

Whate’er thy tim’rous heart may say,

Whate’er thy feelings, night or day,

Should all seem joining to betray — He cares for thee!

He goes with thee, thy steps to guide,

Thy wounds to heal, thy sins to hide 8

Then call on Him, whate’er betide,
He cares for thee!

His love how great no tongue can tell;

He died to save thy soul from hell;

No wife nor mother loves so well i
He cares for thee!

Belov’d of Jesus, trust Him still,

Thy lot to choose, thy cup to fill;

Let no dark thoughts thy spirit chill — He cares for thee!’:

Settled in Perth once more among his old flock, in which, however, there have been some discords and some changes, he thus writes : — ‘I enjoy my work, and the Lord helps me. I have abounding cause to love and trust Him.

Say to me, Lord, as to Abraham, “I am El-Shaddai; walk before Me, and be thou perfect.” Iam longing for more POWER. I see that faith is power; I desire to cultivate faith; to resist and strive against all that would hinder my simple, implicit trust in my God and Saviour.’

Here is a letter to one of his elders, which fits in here : —

‘41, Bernard Street, Russel Square, London, 34 May 1858. — My DEAR Mr. MACKENZIE, — I ought to have written long ago, and will not attempt any excuse or apology, save reminding you of the dilatoriness incident toa man out of harness, out of usual beat, and quite away from all his old landmarks. I am slowly but reluctantly coming to the belief that I have been suffering from physical causes, — the long overtasking and mismanagement and neglect of the nervous system. Dr. Bramwell, Dr. Macleod, and Dr. Martin all agree in this; and at the mouth of two or three witnesses, this, like other things, must be reckoned established. They all recommend complete repose; and this I feel I have not been taking, even at Ben-Rhydding. The mind was still working in the way of regret for the past, or looking forward to the future. I fear I had too much a lurking idea that I had something in my own power, and that I had only to say, “I will go out as at other times before, and shake myself.” I feel that I am suffering the retribution, the Nemesis, of former years of unresting, unrelaxing labour. The regular home work, without any weekly rest, and then, when summer came, instead of the yearly relaxation, itinerancies of exciting and threefold labour. There was real folly in all this; it was just, as it were, saying, “A short life, but a merry one;” and yet, in the end, one finds that there comes a season, neither short nor merry, when the physical, intellectual, emotional, and spiritual all seem expended and worn out, and the unhappy individual becomes a trial and a burden to himself and others. But the ways of the Lord are right, His laws are holy, just, and good; and if, in the well-meaning desire to do all we could, we have overdone, and incurred the righteous

A Ae ee eee wi sanctions, it is meet to humble ourselves, and say, “If His law has not been honoured by our obedience, let it be so in our suffering.” Pray for me now, that I may be enabled to submit, and be really quiet. I have a strong persuasion that when I am enabled, in reference to all this long sore trial, to say, honestly, heartily, and thankfully, “The will of the Lord be done,” then the night will begin to pass, and the morning to dawn. I have said, thankfully; and is not this right? For is it not kind in the Lord to have taken such pains with me? and has not He mingled many mercies in the cup, in keeping the congregation so wonderfully together, and in now bringing among you one who, I know, will be made a comfort and blessing? I would fain hope that a time of blessing is at hand, both for St. Leonard’s and Perth. Oh how differently God is dealing with our land — dropping down the beginnings of a pentecostal shower — from the way in which He is dealing with our neighbour nations, on whom the angel from before the altar is casting down the live coals of wrath and vengeance! Perhaps this is the beginning of the end of God’s long controversy with those who have hated His truth, and worn out His saints. At the public meetings here, there are constant references to the present crisis; but the constant expression, also, of a deep, heartfelt, universal desire that we may not in any way be entangled or mixed up with the quarrel.’

The following fragments are from letters written in this year from different places : —

“I looked in at the — ~’s, I spoke a little with them, and then said, “I am a minister;” took out my little Testament, read, and prayed. I should fancy, from their look, that it rather took them by surprise.’

‘ London. — After leaving you I got wrapt in thought, and had some nice thoughts brought to mind, and never roused till we came to the station. There a blind man, who was sitting beside me, got up to leave, and I felt reproach that I had not tried to speak to him. However, it gave me a new reas

idea of the need of “He wakeneth morning by morning.” Fresh impulse and fresh words are needed every day.’

‘ Dundee. — A deserter was at the station in handcuffs, guarded by a sergeant and soldier. I asked to speak with him, and the sergeant took me, and I spoke a little, and prayed. Also, I had some talk with a Jewish merchant. He held that the promises would be fulfilled if the Jews became Christians and amalgamated with the Gentiles. I helped him a little with his luggage, and we parted as friends.’

‘ Perth. — The great struggle is to look simply to the Lord, and not look to men’s smiles or frowns; but, then, the victory is blessed — peace as a flowing river. What an atheistic state of mind we are often in, when we try to please the worms of the dust! It is very dishonouring, and must be very grieving to the Lord.’

‘ Perth. — I think the “dying of the Lord Jesus” (2 Cor. iv. 10) is more than the remembrance. I think it is the power of His death; that is, as God, by many instrumentalities — devils, wicked men, His own disciples, the trials of this life, the burden of the sins of many, the sights and sounds of this evil world, and, at last, the cross — bruised Him to death; so God is using all occurrences, even the way in which He is leading us in the wilderness, to bruise, mortify, humble, and gradually abolish the old man. And as this death goes on, it makes room for the power of Christ’s life.

‘It is not easy, amid the manifold temptations and consequent heaviness, to be always rejoicing; but I think I should like to be; and I fancy the only way is, Try, try, try again, in the new and living way. “Let not your heart be troubled.”

‘He shall hide me in His pavilion, only I must not be always lifting the Purdah.’+

Before the end of this year (1858) his health began to fail, and in January 1859 he had to leave home for change and rest. He went to Ben-Rhydding; — while there, sowing

1 Curtain ;: a Hindoo word.

some seed, as occasion offered; reading to the masons, working in the neighbourhood, at their dinner hour. Then he went to London for a while, and returned home in June, far from well, and unfit for his work in consequence of deep depression. Towards the end of the year he rather hastily left home for Liverpool, thinking that he had work elsewhere. He then went to Ireland, during the great revival there. He soon after returned to Edin- - burgh, and then went to Wales for a season; but such had been the extent of his ailment at this time, that he had no recollection afterwards of some of these changes, especially of his visit to Ireland. His head was sorely troubling him. His stay at Llandudno for six months quite restored him, so that he returned to Perth, in February 1860, re-established in all respects. His first sermon was, Job xl. 5, ‘I have heard of Thee by the hearing of the ear; but now mine eye seeth Thee.’ While resting at Llandudno (in 1859) he could not be altogether idle 3 but his ignorance of the Welsh language kept him nearly so. In order, however, to sow some seed, he got Welsh tracts for distribution; and he had a few brief sentences translated for him, such as ‘O Lord, give me Thy Holy Spirit, for Christ’s sake;’ and

‘I am a poor sinner, and nothing at all,
But Jesus Christ is my all in all>

These Mrs. Milne and he wrote on slips of paper, and gave them to those they met with by the way.

In the beginning of 1859 he had begun to feel the undivided pastoral work of so large a congregation as Free St. Leonard’s too heavy for him, and to think either of a temporary assistant or of a permanent colleague. He thus writes to one of his elders, on the 5th of April, from Ben-Rhydding : —

‘My DEAR MR. MACKENZIE, ... I trust you will be guided, wisely and speedily, to one who will be made a blessing to that much and long-tried flock. But it is the Lord’s way in which we are going, not our own; and if we are enabled to hold on in faith and patience, we shall certainly reach some blessed landing-place. It is not easy to rest in this while all is dark and uncertain; but they who dwell in the secret place of the Most High can do it. Perhaps the highest honour and the best service we can render to God is to trust Him in troublous times. It is then that the flesh is completely mor-. tified, and the soul, in acquiescence and confidence, clings to its Lord. Such seasons manifest and confirm the union between the redeemed creature and its Creator. Paul has gone through much, and looked at the worst that could happen — tribulation, affliction, famine, — ere he could fully realize and make his boast of that union from which he feels.that nothing in the height above or depth beneath shall be able to separate.’

On the 26th of August, he thus writes to the same : —

“My DEAR FRIEND, — My first thought was simply to resign the charge. But this would not meet the present emergency, as, from the dilatory mode of proceeding in such cases, months would probably elapse ere the congregation would be in a condition to makeacall. Besides, with the faint dawn of returning mental health there is a revival of old feelings, and a hope that I may yet be able to do something for a people to whom I owe so much, and on whom my return has been the means of bringing so many trials. I therefore feel myself shut up to ask a colleague; and it is a great relief to see the leadings of Providence in the matter so clear. I have therefore enclosed letters to this effect for the session and Presbytery. You might communicate my views and wishes to my friend Mr. Cowan,

If I should be permitted to return and labour for a season in Perth, there is no one, I think, with whom I should find it more easy and pleasant to co-operate than with him. I shall be anxious to hear how this matter proceeds. Kindest love to all at home, and to other friends. Believe me, very affectionately yours, pees

On the 16th of September, he writes to the same : —

‘My DEAR FRIEND, — ... As you expected, Mr. Cowan has decided to remain at Perth; and this I feel to be a cause of great satisfaction and thankfulness. Though I knew him so little, I have always felt my heart drawn to him in a mingled feeling of hopefulness and esteem; and if I should be in part and for a season restored to work again, perhaps the spectacle of two taking sweet counsel together, and walking in harmony, may help to repair our breaches, and to promote the cause of God. Our best days in St. Leonard’s were when William Burns, and afterwards A. Bonar and Mr. Cumming, used to take part, and work side by side. But all this is in the Lord’s hand, and we must try for the present to leave it there. We know that He will not always chide. I have found it very hard to submit to the dispensation of being wholly laid aside in this season of hope and harvest. But the Lord in mercy still continues the needed discipline; and I have a hope that, in due time, He will bring me to acquiesce, and perhaps enable me even to say, “Most gladly will I glory in my infirmities.”. ... I wonder if there is any place in Liverpool where we could get a small supply of Welsh tracts? We had a parcel of them, but they are gone.’

Mr. Milne’s wishes were speedily gratified, and his anxieties removed, by the settlement of Mr. Cowan as his permanent colleague.

Few colleagueships have been the source of so much mutual comfort and assistance. The affectionate way in which Mr. Milne always spoke of Mr. Cowan showed how highly he appreciated him, and how great was the confidence which he reposed in him as a fellow-pastor and a friend. ‘The following letter will show this : —

‘ Llandudno, North Wales, Fan. 12, 1860. — My DEAR BROTHER, — I am favoured with your kind letter, and feel that I ought to have written before, to offer our congratulations and good wishes on the occasion of your full entrance on the tninistry. But I knew. that you would not require words to tell you of the interest which we felt; and I need not say that, in present circumstances, I often feel little inclined for correspondence. Yet I must not complain of this trial, painful and prolonged as it has been. I think light is beginning to dawn upon us, and we are able to say, “It was needful, and is and will be good.” I believe the Lord is leading us through fire and water to bring us into a wealthy place. He is showing us that, when He is pleased to shine upon His word, and to shed abroad His love in our heart, we can be happy even in this wilderness, far from work, and friends, and privileges. Yet the wilderness is to us,’as to the Master, a place of much temptation; and the heart longs for the time when He will say, “Ve have tarried long enough; rise, and take your journey.” We should like to see some clear indication of His will before we take any steps. Pray for us that this may be given, that I may again be set free to engage in His blessed work, in such way and measure as He may see fit. I need strength and grace, and I would fain have the sense of them in my own keeping; but I feel that He is teaching me the life of faith, to feel that Iam in myself nothing but sin, and weakness, and poverty; and yet to go cheerfully and joyfully on my way, resting on that word, “My grace is sufficient for thee; my strength is made perfect in weakness.” This would indeed be the victory over self; and a glorious, blessed liberty. When one gets a Spirit-bestowed glimpse of the great salvation, — so divine, spontaneous, full, free, and near; how it is shining

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down upon us like the mid-day light; how it is flooding all around us like a high and resistless tide, — it seems strange that we can remain for a single moment without the fulness of peace and joy!. I can see how the Lord should marvel at unbelief, and why that gracious operation, by which it is overcome, should be described as the exceeding greatness of God’s power. I see that you also are tried from day to day; but I trust this only proceeds from the fear of the adversary dreading damage to his cause, and from the wise love of the Master, seeking to make you an instrument of extensive usefulness. It is the worm Jacob by whom He threshes the mountains, and from whom He gets all the praise and glory. The Lord. must humble us before He can advantageously or safely exalt us, We have been thinking of you and the congregation during this week. I am glad that you have these meetings in concert with so many throughout the world. We are with you in spirit, though absent in the flesh. Here there are united meetings every night among the Independents, Calvinistic and Wesleyan Methodists; but they are all in Welsh, so that we have to be a little church ourselves, pleading the promise, “If any two of you agree.” Accept our united regards; and longing for your prosperity, and that of the flock, ever very affectionately yours,

‘J. MILNE,’

On the 16th of February 1860, having returned home,, he met his people at the weekly prayer-meeting. He told, as he usually did in such cases, of all that he had seen and heard when away: of the work of God in Wales, beginning in one place during the week of prayer; of some striking conversions at Abergele; of the earnest cry of some Christians there previously, ‘Is Abergele to be left dry?’ He then added, ‘I dare say some of my old friends here, who can look back twenty years, remember our prayer then, “Is Kilsyth to get it all? Is Dundee to ea Vik ce

get it all? Is Perth to get none?” May the Lord’s people here thus plead with Him till He send the shower! As the people were returning from Abergele Church on Sabbath, they heard voices from a room under an Independent chapel; and some, on looking in, saw seventeen lads, with heads bowed down in prayer, asking for mercy of the Lord. That was said to be the beginning of upwards of a hundred conversions. At Bangor, also, the hand of God was manifest.’

About the same time he writes to Mr. Cowan, in reference to the meeting of kirk-session, when the quarterly reports of district visitors were given in : —

‘You will be at the session to-night, and therefore I will not go. You know my mind, that there should be only one will there, and that will should be yours. We can work very well together by mutual counsel and prayer, and show how easy and pleasant all things are to those who live and love in Jesus. Will you make my excuse to the brethren? Say that it is not that I have forgotten our long and pleasant, and often much blessed fellowship, but because the Lord makes me long to see you and them continuing to grow into one another in sweet abiding union, without any interfering influence. I feel sure that you will all have not a little this evening to communicate to one another, of what is hopeful and promising and ground for thankfulness.’

In the same spirit, he sends a note to Mr. Cowan, in reference to some discussions in the kirk-session : —

‘My DEAR BROTHER, — Do you remember that, at the first communion, there was a strife among the disciples? We have often found it so at this time. But we are older and more experienced now. If the subject of helping the psalmody is brought forward, try to get through it smoothly. “Take us the foxes.” There is a place and work for every one; and every one should be put in their place and put to their work, else there will be mischief. Let us thank God, and use any grace or gift He gives, and not grudge at one another. The God of peace be among you.’

On the day after a Sabbath-school soirée, he writes thus pleasantly to Mr. Cowan : —

‘My DEAR BROTHER, — I thought the meeting last night was a great success, and a matter for thankfulness. The speaking that I heard was excellent. The behaviour of the children was all one could desire. I rather reproached myself for being over-stern; and thought, would the Master have checked the little ones in their ebullition as I did? But I thought of old converting days, and was longing for them back again. Let me send an additional gift towards the expenses, which, I fancy, must have been considerable, when I think of the affluence of the good things I saw in the vestry.’!

In the autumn of 1860, the first of the open-air meetings on the South Inch was held. As soon as he heard the proposal regarding these, he threw himself heartily into the work, and his doing so drew others into it. Those three days’ meetings in 1860 were followed by seventy nights of continuous service, when ‘many were added to the Church.’ He greatly enjoyed that time; not the less, because the work was not confined to his congregation, but carried on by ministers of all denominations.

The following letter to ‘the People of Perth’ at this time is as characteristic as it is striking : —

‘MY DEAR FRIENDS, — In the name, and at the request of some of our fellow-townsmen, I venture to address to you a

1 When intimating a collection, he used to say, ‘You know I never beg from you; I only ask you to give the purse-strings to Christ.’

few words of love and kindness. We feel that we are come to a great crisisin our history. After nearly two years of prayer and waiting, the Lordvhas visited us in unexampled mercy. You are yourselves witnesses of the events of the last fortnight, — you saw the multitudes who gathered together at the open-air meetings on the South Inch, and crowded the City Hall and other places at night. Those of you who-mingled with these assemblages, could not but have observed the solemn impression which prevailed, and must also have heard expressions of interest, conviction, prayer, and thanksgiving from many alip. In particular, at the close of the meeting on the second night, the City Hall presented a scene never before witnessed on such a scale in Perth; it was like a battle-field, a harvest-field; hundreds were seeking the Lord, or rejoicing that they had found Him, Blessed be God for such a season; and yet, dear friends, had this been all, we should not now be addressing you. Had the movement stopped at this point, we might have attributed it to the presence and labours of those ministers and laymen from a distance, whom the Lord has so greatly honoured and blessed in other places. But God has shown us the truth of His own word, “Not by power, nor by might, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord.” After all the visitors had left us, the meetings continued as crowded, as solemn, as earnest as before. It even seems as if the impression were deepening, and growing from night to night. Oh, dear friends, salvation is near, salvation is in the midst of us! The light of God is shining, and men are awakening; the Spirit of God is come, and is convincing men of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment. Hundreds remain night after night to seek the Saviour, and many find Him. Oh! it seems easy at present to be saved. What, in ordinary times, is spread over months or years, seems now compressed into an instant, the twinkling of an eye. Men ‘comprehend at once that they are lost, helpless, without strength, and that the Lord Jesus is ail they need. They feel that He is near them, is knocking at their door, is stretching out His hands, and that it is only a look, a cry, an act of reliance, and the day dawns upon them, and their peace begins to flow as a river. Oh, friends, salvation is near, very near! We can testify of many, who come to these meetings careless, worldly, and influenced only by curiosity, and who yet leave them trusting and rejoicing in the Lord. Yea, we have seen some awakened, converted, and beginning to exhort and instruct others, and all this in the course of a few moments. Beloved friends, there is nothing strange or incredible in this. All Scripture testifies to it. What is salvation? It. is just Christ. All the fulness is in Him, and God offers Him freely to all who will receive Him. Does it take long to accept a gift? Does the beggar take long to receive your offered alms? And just so with us; God is willing and waiting to give you His Son. Are you willing to receive Him ? — ¢hen He is yours.

‘Beloved friends, we long for you in the Lord, our hearts are yearning over you. We are happy ourselves, and we wish you to be happy too. Come and see, come and judge for yourselves. Be not influenced by the opinions of men. Do not listen to the suggestions of your own hearts. This is an acceptable time, a day of merciful visitation. The wind is blowing, the tide is swelling high; cut your moorings, and join us in our voyage to Emmanuel’s Land.

‘Beloved friends, you know me; I have been long among you, and have much reason to love you. I left you, and reckoned that, after a short season of labour for my Lord, I should lie down in the dust of a far distant land. But the Lord has strangely brought me back, to gladden me with the sight of answered prayers and fulfilled desires. I hope now to lie down among you, and rest till the Master comes and bids us rise to meet Him. And oh! my desire is, that we might all rise rejoicing and singing together our song of triumph, “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” Ah, friends, love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. How poor will all appear in that day when they are passing away as a dream of the night, and when only that

Saviour will be precious who is now standing at your door, and pressing himself on your acceptance! ‘In name of my friends and fellow-labourers, I entreat, I

beseech you not to let this season of mercy pass unimproved;

night and day we pray for you. — Believe, very affectionately yours, ‘JOHN MILNE. ‘ PERTH, 315¢ August 1860.’

He drew up also a prayer union circular, with this sentence prefixed: ‘Perhaps something of this kind might do for next week, if the brethren think good.’

* Monday. — India.

* Tuesday. — Read John xiv. 15-18, and John xvi. 7-15. Pray for the Spirit as the Comforter; the Spirit of truth, the remembrancer, the sanctifier, the convincer of the world, the glorifier of Christ; as the Spirit of power, enabling to testify, inclining to testify, so that we cannot hold our peace. Pray for the fruits of the Spirit, the unity of the Spirit.

‘ Wednesday. — Read Ps. cxliv. Pray for our own town. Confess prevalent sins, growing sins, open sins. Pray for magistrates, that they may be on the side of God, opposing evil and encouraging good. Pray for employers, that they may be considerate like Boaz; and for servants, that they may be diligent and faithful, serving the Lord. Pray for the rich, that they may be liberal; and for the poor, that they may seek things above. Pray for the City Mission, Young Men’s Tract Society, all young men’s associations, all soul-gatherers, all visitors of the sick. Pray that temptations and stumbling-blocks may be taken out of the way, and that the Lord may visit us again, and make Perth a city of righteousness.

“Thursday. — Read Ezek. xxxiv. 11-31. Pray for our con« gregations. Pray for ministers, elders, deacons, district visitors, schools, Bible classes. Pray for a blessing on Sabbath work, communion services. Pray for unity, peace, growing love; that we may watch over one another, help one another, pray for one another. Pray that the work of conversion and edification may be ever going on among us. Pray that our churches may be missionary, aggressive, seeking to win the unsaved at home and abroad.

‘ Friday. — Read Col. iii. 12-25,and iv.1. Pray for our families, that our houses may be Bethels, our closets Peniels; that fathers may be like Abrahams, mothers like the mother of Moses, of Samuel, of Timothy; that children may grow up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, seeking early the good part; that servants may do all things without murmurings or disputings, serving the Lord, and like the little maid in Naaman’s house. Pray that our dwellings may be little churches, where the world’s ways and fashions and vain amusements shall never find a lodgment.

‘ Saturday. — Read John xvii. Give thanks for this season of prayer. Confess its sins and shortcomings. Pray for the whole Church of God, the whole family of our Father in heaven, the whole flock of the Good Shepherd. Pray for beloved, but still outcast Israel. Pray for a special blessing to-morrow, that we may be as John at Patmos, that the Lord may bless the provision.’

The time of special blessing may be said to have begun on the last day of the open-air meetings. In the City Hall meeting that night there was profound solemnity, as if God were working, and many were aroused. At the close, it was announced that a meeting would be held next evening in Free St. Leonard’s. Next morning Mr. Moody Stuart suggested that the meeting should rather be held in the City Hall. Mr. Milne gladly accepted the proposal, went and engaged the Hall, issued placards, informed the other ministers, and made necessary arrangements. Mr. Moody Stuart agreed to remain and take part. Seven o’clock came; the Hall was crowded 3 the audience were deeply impressed, and showed reluctance to separate; some bowed down under a sense of sin, others filled with joy. The meetings and the crowds continued for seventy consecutive nights; and the depth as well as extent of spiritual quickening seemed very great — greater, even, than at the solemn conference-gatherings of later years. ‘Many were added to the Church;’ the dead in sin were raised; the living were replenished with more abundant life. Each day at noon a meeting for prayer was held, and arrangements for the evening made. Mr. Milne was able to attend the whole of these noon meetings, and the greater number of the evening ones, being always the last to leave the Hall. He was occupied from morning to night; sometimes corresponding with brethren; sometimes making needful preparations; sometimes smoothing down asperities, or giving explanations to parties, who might think themselves slighted. For the last of these offices, no man was more fitted. The Breadalbane banquet at last brought these meetings to a close, the Hall being required for it.

Two gentlemen were visitors in Perth during these memorable ten weeks, — Christian men from India, but not quite satisfied with what they had heard of such work. One of them, not in the habit of speaking to others on religion, got his lips unsealed, and became so interested that he began to talk to the children around him, and to point them to the cross. He left, thanking God for what he had seen and heard.

Many were the accessions to the membership of the churches at this time; and these added ones have been

ae aa a tested by time and proved genuine. At the following Christmas the Gwizard boys, instead of singing their usual songs, took to singing ‘Rest for the Weary,’ ‘Christ for Me,’ and other hymns ; — as may be supposed, to Mr. Milne’s great delight.

Those who have been with him at such times as these, know and can tell the joy that spoke out in his words, and shone out in his face, as day by day brought him fresh news of the work of God.

At Dunkeld, that same year, meetings were held in Mr. Macpherson’s church, not without blessing. Mr. Milne took part in them. His methods of ‘beating up’ for a congregation were too peculiar and too characteristic, not to be given somewhat in detail. There were some five or six ministers expected to take part. After dinner at a friend’s house a little out of town, Mr. Milne asks them to come by themselves to his room, where he calls on one after another to pray. This done, they set out for the meeting. On the road, before entering the town, they meet a company of masons returning home. Mr. M. stops them, tells them of the meeting, its place and hour, invites them, and lest any of them should complain of the halfpenny pontage, takes out his purse, and hands them a sixpence. They yield to his invitation and come. But a number of young women are seen coming along the road from their work. Mr. M. stops them, speaks with them, invites them; but does not succeed. By this time the hour of meeting has arrived, and Mr. M. is reminded of this. ‘Let us run, then,’ he replies, and quickens his pace. But when proceeding at quick pace, they meet a gentleman enjoying his walk. Too late as he is, Mr. Milne cannot pass him. Politely lifting his hat to the English stranger, as he turned out to be, Mr. M. asks if he is aware of the meeting in the town to-night? ‘What sort of meeting?’ asks the stranger. ‘A religious meeting, and a most delightful one it will be. Will you go with us?’ ‘ By all means,’ said the traveller. In a moment Mr. Milne’s arm is linked in his, and they are hastening to church, where the stranger sat the whole time, a deeply interested man.’

To this period of blessing all over the district, Mr. Milne briefly refers in the following entry : —

‘ December 31, 1860. — I look back upon a long season of judgment and mercy, of much sin on my part, and great loving. kindness on the part of the Lord. He has sent from above, and drawn me out of many waters. It has been a year of much spiritual blessing to the town. I have been enabled to rise above private and congregational feelings, and to seek the general good. God has given the blessing, by pouring out on my brethren a wonderful spirit of love, unity, and self-forgetfulness. To this I attribute in a great measure the large and long-continued blessing which has been vouchsafed. In 1840 the blessing was much confined to my own congregation; this year it has been general, every congregation getting a measure of good, and the work spreading to the country all around.’

1 Mr. Macpherson gives a reminiscence of a later visit to Dunkeld, in the autumn of 1867 : — ‘ He and I ascended one of the heights near Dunkeld (Newtyle Hill). On reaching the outskirts of a wood, he took out his pocket Bible, and proposed that we should read a psalm, and - each of us engage in prayer. In the psalm which he read (which, I regret, I cannot recall), was the text from which he first preached; and on which he now made a few comments. Much nearness to God, intensified by the mountain-solitude and the beauty of the scene, child-like simplicity and intense fervour, marked the exercise.’

- * Fanuary 4, 1861. — Peaceful on the whole. A good deal of outward work, and less fellowship. Hence a short season of darkness and temptation. But enabled to resist and believe: and the victory has come; and now, help, peace, and joy.

‘ Fan. 8th. — Some changes, but generally helped. I feel that all depends on faith; near Christ; preferring Him to all; and doing this Jractically from moment to moment, — this is peace, health, and life. I long to get the selfish element more and more removed. It is the sediment that darkens and defiles the stream of life. Oh that it might subside more and more, and disappear, till Christ be all in all, — motive, power, end! Mary sat at Christ’s feet; and then we find her, ere long, honouring Him in deed. What a directory for every day: sit and hear His words, choose the good part, and then go forth to act!

‘ Fan. toth. — Still moving on quietly; but feeling the need of continual watchfulness and prayer. I desire growing fellowship, — abiding in Christ, and Christ in me. How important, in the view of heaven, are the daily, hourly occurrences of this life, in their bearing upon the work of God, and the sanctification and comfort of His people! Help me to remember and realize this more, and to walk softly.

‘ Wednesday, 23d Fan. — We have had a very comfortable communion. My desire is that, as a people, we should carry out the two precepts — sray without ceasing, and, in everything Sve thanks. Continual prayer would prevail with God; continual thanksgiving would prevail with man. There is a promise of coming blessing; and I desire to expect and wait.

‘March 34. — Sabbath morning. — 1 have now been nearly a week confined to bed, and am only beginning to recover. The time has passed quietly and peacefully, though there has been much pain. I feel that I needed this taking aside and breaking down; for, as usual, I was getting away from the Lord, putting work for Him in place of Himself. lt is kind in the Lord to arrest the poor backslider in his downward course, He sees the grey hairs here and there, and He is faithful and loving; and so interposes at once. Friends see them often,

DEATH OF Mk. GRAY. 301

but false kindness or indifference keeps them silent. He who spared not His own Son in working out salvation, will not spare the rod in applying it to us.’

On the 21st of March (1861) he thus writes to Glasgow, in reference to the death of Mr. Gray : —

‘My DEAR ANDREW, — I am obliged for your kind and welcome note. Yes; I have been thinking of days gone by, and the time when we used to live and labour here, an unbroken, undivided company. But it is all well. We are farther on, and drawing near the shore. We see eye to eye, and my desire is “Even so come.” It was in the end of the week that they thought of having a third sermon, and Mr. Duncan came to ask me to preach. It occurred to me that as Dr. Grierson and Dr. Candlish would likely speak of his public life, it would be better for me to say a word or two of his private life and trials. So I took 2 Cor. xii. 7-9: “There was given me a thorn in the flesh.” The idea I had was this, Paul a great worker, and pattern in his conversion, but a pattern also in the discipline to which God subjected him after conversion, and to which, age after age, he subjects those of His servants who resemble Paul in character and work. Then the heads were — Paul under trial; Paul seeking deliverance; Paul joyfully acquiescing in his dispensation, ‘The thorn I regarded as some bodily ailment which was obvious to all among whom he ministered, which hindered him in his work, and gave enemies, spiritual and human, opportunity to harass him. But I shall send you the newspaper. It is not a full report, for I had not my jottings written out to give him. One thing omitted will interest you. On the Sabbath after his last return, Mr. Gray gave out the psalm, “I shall not die, but live.” He expected to recover. But before the end of the year this hope seems to have passed from his mind. Mr. Turnbull, who knew more of his mind than any, permitted me to tell the people that Mr. Gray, for months before his death, considered himself a dying man, He put himself into the hands of the Lord, arranged his earthly affairs, set his house in order, and from that time was occupied with things eternal, resting all his hope simply on the finished work of Christ. When he broke the matter to his wife, he put her in mind of the psalm, “I shall not die;” and then said, ‘‘ We must change the text now.”’

A letter omitted in its proper niche may be inserted here, as similar in character to the above. It is written in 1848, on hearing of the death of Mr. Cormick of Kirriemuir :- —

‘DEAR BROTHER ANDREW, — This is a sad stroke. Daniel taken from us without the slightest premonition. I had never heard that he was ill; and found the intimation of his death when I came down this morning. It is some time since we met, in consequence of my reluctance to go from home leading me to shift to another time his invitations. He was last with me. I now wish I had been more with him. It is pleasant to think of having often named him to the Lord. Let us not weary in prayer, but watch thereunto with all. perseverance. I feel smitten a good deal with this sudden stroke. Who next? And yet we dare not ask him back.’

The journal thus proceeds : —

‘ Saturday, 6th April. — There is no benefit in dwelling too much on the sins of the past. It may be done from some remaining love of sin; and this is to be abhorred. Or it may be from unbelief, not realizing the completeness and enduringness of forgiveness; and then it is dishonouring to the mercy of God, and the blood of Jesus. We should be seeking to live as those who are free from condemnation, who have come out and are separate, who are sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty, members of the heavenly family, though not yet at home. We should seek to become daily more and more sensible of the least sin, and more and more careful to avoid it, and thus we shall become more and more sensible of sin around us, and concerned for its removal.

HOME, HOME! 303

—

‘ Monday, Nov. 4th. — Still moving on in the enjoyment of many mercies. There has been some sickness, and, for a time, cause to fear the return of old and trying ailments. But it is passed, and I have been able to go on with my work. The love of sin is still in the members, and is ever working; and I think wistfully of the power of Christ’s death as a means of greater deliverance, even here. Lord, instruct me more fully in this. All things are of God, and He will perfect that which concerneth me.’

To some part of this period the following undated
letter to Mr. Cowan refers : —

‘ Monday morning. — MY DEAR BROTHER, — I was unable to venture out last night, but the servants told me that it was a very nice meeting. Thank you for the zzdezng and zxdwellimg yesterday. The former term was new to me, but it is very good. There is always life and outflow when Christ is brought in. ... Charlie is off this morning.t How thankful I am that I have not, like him, to begin life! Home! home! now, is the hope and the cry,’

To another he writes, about this time, when from

home : —

“We made an inroad on Mrs., and got into a most animated conversation with her and another lady, on revivals; in the course of which I took out my Bible, and read the valley of dry bones, with comments; and all this in the library! Wasn’t it atrocious?’

In 1862 he has a few brief entries : —

‘ March 13th. — Thursday evening. — I wish more of habitual fellowship. I find that the Lord is willing to meet me when I

seek Him, to check me when I err. I wish not to be pre-occupied with other things, so as not to notice His presence,

1 Mr. Milne’s nephew, to college.

remark His guidings, or miss His absence.... April 6th. — Sabbath evening. — Helped last Sabbath at Monzie and Comrie, and also to-day; but failed during the week to live upon the unsearchable riches of Christ. There must be a higher and more stedfast life than the generality seem to live. I have seen some who seemed to have got into it; a life of faith, a kind of heavenly life on earth. Let me be trying after this. ... Aprzl 13¢/, — Communion Sabbath. Have had much help and comfort. Soalsohad Mr. Cowan. We work most harmoniously together; never, from the beginning till now, the slightest shadow of a difference, either in opinion or way. Praise the Lord!’

The following are a few miscellaneous and fragmentary extracts from letters of 1862 : —

‘ Going to the Infirmary, a number of women were sitting on a high wall, and a man was parading before them, and they were making a great noise. I said, “Take care, you are like a oo set on a hill.” “Hech, sirs,” said one of ae “that’s true,” and they were quite still.

‘Last night I came upon a group of grown-up lads in High Street, making a nice-looking dog stand on his hind legs and beg. He looked tired. I put my hand upon the shoulder of the one that was conducting the operations, and said, “That’s a very nice dog, and he does it very well; but should you not let him rest on God’s day?” They seemed taken aback; but one of them said, “It’s quite right, sir, we should.”

“Last evening I strolled to the station. At the further end I found two young men who were commencing their night watch. I spoke a little about the vicissitudes of the place — one moment crowded and full of bustle, and then silent, and feeling quite alone. He said, “I have often thought of that.” I said there is another way by which we must go alone — no one can go with us. He started, but said, “I see.” I took his hand and talked a little to him. He wrung my hand most warmly at parting.

‘I think I feel that to be continually nothing is the happiest state. We are then like vessels purged and meet for the Masters use. I wish we were like the skins or parchment of monkish days, where they blotted out one writing to make way for another.

‘I think we should seek and reckon upon the Lord’s guid- -ance and help in everything, however small. We are to glorify Him in all we do, and we cannot do this without His help.

‘] think there should bea constant ve-¢2wwe — a holding in and holding back of what is our own. The world likes impulse, — naturalness as it is called, — and you know somebody that likes it too. But I think the Lord is teaching me to distrust it. The world calls those who keep their feelings in check cold and stiff; but the Lord says, “Watch and pray.” In heaven there will be no need for restraint.’

There is a brief entry of March 24, 1863, which I extract, because it carries on Mr. Milne’s spiritual history : — 4

‘Am I counting all things loss for Christ? Am I dwelling in the secret place? Should I be glad if Christ came now? I desire to be often, during the day, trying myself by these questions. Lord, help. ... I need a continual death and a continual enlivening.’

In this same year he sends this note to Mr. Cowan : —

‘My DEAR BROTHER, — I enclose a note of Andrew Bonar’s. It gives a pleasant definition of your name (Cohen, the Hebrew for priest), better than the Celtic one Chow, or Gow, which connects you with the world-wide family of Smiths. I have answered it; so keep it, and perhaps it may help some future biographer who is inquiring into your prémordia rerum. 1am not up to the mark to-day; but you know I will work as long as I am able to stand. I seek to rest upon “my strength is made perfect in weakness.”’

From the beginning of 1860, till the autumn of 1866,

he was in almost full work, in excellent health, and joyful U in spirit. Of this period, however, the records are scanty. On the rst of January 1864, he writes : —

‘The past year has been one of unusual, peaceful, and equal character. There have been few weakenings of strength and few sinkings of spirit. There have been many lessons and keepings. I look back thankfully on the meetings in January; our stay at Burntisland in June; the communion at Stirling; the conference in September; and a visit to Montrose and Ferryden in the same month. I still feel that my besetting sin is unbelief. I long for obedience to that word, “Cleanse yourselves from all filthiness,” etc. Our corrupt nature either cleaves to the dust or soars in the clouds of vanity and high-mindedness. I pray that this may be a year more peaceful and equal than the past. Keep me near Thee — Thy death, life, blood, and word. For a week or two I have been feeble; but I find that the Lord thus prepares me for some new enlargement; so I try to wait in faith and patience.’

On the 5th of this same month he speaks of weakness and sleeplessness, yet of help; and notices the difference between his attempts to keep himself and his being kept by the power of God. He sees deliverance only in the blood of Jesus. It alone opens our way to God, and shuts Satan’s way to us. He speaks of ‘ quiet trust;’ and then again, of the evil of self: ‘How wretched to be thrusting our shadow upon poor, perishing men, and preventing their looking to God!’ Many of his remarks remind us of the words of old Fraser of Brae, regarding himself and his ministry. ‘I perceive that I am bound to another kind of life than the rest of the world; to be holy in another manner than they; that as the Lord had set me in a more eminent place, so I should be more eminent in holiness,’ He longs ‘so to put on Christ that He only may be seen,’

‘TI believe it is so,’ he adds, ‘when I come to God, else I could have no access; and now I desire it may be so in all my dealings with my fellow-men. How much has my life been lost and embittered in endeavouring to be something in the eyes of men, knowing all the while that the image I wished to set up before them was not my real, conscious self, but only what I should like them to think me to be! What a miserable ungodliness, deceitfulness, and selfishness there has been in all this, walking in a vain show! Iseek now to be delivered from this vain conversation by the power of the Lamb’s blood. It will need much watching, prayer, self-recollection, and living and walking in the Spirit. But it can be done by Him who maketh all things new. I should like this week to be much in spirit with the brethren who are meeting in Freemasons’ Hall, London, to confer regarding the Lord coming. I thought it better not to go, though invited, partly because I felt that I was only a beginner on the subject. I believe there was unbelief in this, and unwillingness to go where I could not be something. May I be forgiven. But the Lord can make it up to me and bless me here, and use me, if He see good, in some other way, and at some other time. They have sent me a list of the subjects to be considered night after night, and I feel that it would have been very blessed to be there, and to meet with these loving, gracious men. But I feel that I should have been carried away and lifted up, and I believe it is better for me to be here, learning in quiet and silence. One thought has been occurring to me. Looking back on the New Testament revivals, I think I see a watchword in each:

ea jirst, The kingdom of God is at hand; second, The resurrection of the Lord; ¢Azrd, Justification by faith without works; fourth, Regeneration by the Spirit; 7/72, The power of prayer and immediate salvation on closing with Christ. What if the next watchword should be a return to the first one, ‘‘ The Lord is at hand, the time is short!” ... Thursday, 7th. — I have written to Mr. Robert Baxter, suggesting a wide circulation of the reports of their meeting, and the possibility that the next revival watchword may be “The Lord is at hand;” and thus the Lord may shake the world, and beat out of it what remains of the fulness of the Gentiles.... Friday, 8¢z. — Temptation, but rest in Christ. Reading D’Aubigne’s Calvin. Find it quickening and strengthening. There is a stream of life running through it. I see that some of my brethren suspect the doctrine of Christ’s near approach. There is much bigotry even in good men. They judge and condemn without inquiring, and act unconsciously in the very spirit of Popery. I ask help to rest more simply and wholly on Christ, as complete in Him, and to mortify and deny the flesh at all times and in all forms.’

‘Fan. 11th. — Monday. — Feeble; but helped in preaching yesterday. There is a reluctance to be nothing; but help me to obey Thy word, denying myself and looking up to the cross, It is only the blood that makes to overcome.’

In another entry he speaks of ‘ forgetting to watch and pray, and so gave way to /astiness.’ Hastiness, in the sense of sudden impulse, he did give way to; but hastiness in the usual sense of sudden anger he did not know, or, at least, others never saw. He was so gentle that it was difficult to imagine him provoked. I used sometimes to say to him, ‘When were you last angry?’ He smiled, and assured me that he really could be angry. I asked the time and the occasion. He could not say; but mentioned something, many years ago, in connection with the beadle’s neglect of duty which had much annoyed him. Mrs. Milne tells me that the only time when she saw him at all angry, was when the servant had neglected to deliver a message concerning some case of sickness, which he thought ought to have been attended to immediately. With the amount of strong feeling and excitement that was in him, it is amazing how little of ‘hastiness’ he exhibited, how entirely loving-kindness had overcome all wrath. The next day he writes: ‘Feeble, but not fretted nor impatient. Thy will, O Lord, is best. Let me rest in Thee. Draw me more and more to Thyself. I long to get more into the mind of Christ.’ And then, again, he adds: ‘Still feeble; longing for revival; yet rest in the thought that Christ is full of life.’ I find several references to his Sabbath preparations on early days of the week, such as Wednesday. He was strikingly conscientious in preparing for the pulpit. This is the more to be noted because he both thought and spoke easily; and could, more than most, have done exfempore work. But he was careful about his Sabbath services. No sooner was one Sabbath’s work over than he began thinking, reading, studying, praying about the next. He did not, during his early years, write his sermons in full, though he always prepared them thoroughly; but afterwards he wrote them more fully, though he never read. He first himself fed on the bread, and then he set to making it ready for others. Those that were much with William Burns in the work at Dundee and Perth will remember this in his case. He did not write his discourses, but he prepared them more than many who did. In one of his visits to Kelso, he preached several evenings in succession. Iasked him one forenoon what he meant to give us in the evening. ‘I don’t know; I have not yet got a morsel for my own soul.’ It was with Mr. Milne as with him. They first steeped their own spirits in the word, and then they put it in shape for others. This is the truest process of elaboration. And in reading Mr. Milne’s journals, we are struck with the numerous references, every day of the week, both to the past and the coming Sabbath. His Sablath work was constantly before his eyes; and the results of that Sabbath work upon the souls of his people were matter of prayer, day and night, without ceasing. After writing one Wednesday about help in preparing for Sabbath, he adds: ‘I wish to pray more in faith and love for the congregation. I think there is something moving among them, which, if fanned and cherished, may come to a flame; Lord Jesus, help !?1

* IT remember once being the means of disconcerting him about his Sabbath preparations. One Saturday evening, before a communion in his own church, I was with him; and after special prayer in reference to the next day’s services, I asked him his text. He told me. I asked his exposition of the passage and the arrangement of his sermon. He told me, and added, ‘Won’t that do?’ I said that the sermon was likely to be all that it ought; but he seemed to me to have mistaken the meaning of the passage. We talked over it, and he was persuaded that his exposition would not stand. He was greatly annoyed that

night and next morning; and though he preached the sermon, he was not satisfied. So disconcerted, however, was he that he declared he a SLUMBERING AND SLEEPING. 311

He mentions his reading in the second chapter of Judges, — Joshua’s death; the death of that generation of the faithful; Israel’s forgetting God; and adds, ‘God has in late years added a ¢hird way among us. Ministers are laid aside, and all seems going asleep. Will the Lord raise up men again, full of power and of the Holy Ghost? I know not in what form, or from what quarter; but I believe they will come.’ The following is an interesting fragment from his journal, of January 27, (1864) : —

‘Living quietly. Yesterday, languid and out of harness; but a little help at night, when a temptation, resisted and ultimately overcome, gave new light and strength. Longing for liberty from world and flesh and devil. Only walking after the Spirit in the light, and dwelling on high, can give it; the Spirit upon us, as it was on Christ (Isa. xi.), according to our measure, alone can enable us to break through. I get above outward and inward entanglements. I have been thinking of the parallel in Rom. viii., — the “bondage of the corruption,” and the “liberty of the glory;” for this is the right rendering. If we abode in Christ, we should be strong and quiet, and not be preplexed or at a loss at any time. I take this cluster of truths: “Be still, and know that I am God; “Stand still, and see the salvation of God;” “He who believeth shall not make haste;” “Tn returning and rest shall ye be saved;” “Their thought is to sit still;” “Ts not the Lord gone out before thee?” said Deborah to Barak. This is victory. The King is in the field. I have been longing for a more simple, unformal, unconventional way of stating the gospel; so that God’s love in Christ might come home to men, just as they are from day to day, — in the house, on the street, in

would never tell his text again beforehand to any one; and, so far as I was concerned, he kept his word; always refusing to tell me what he was going to preach upon, and referring to the annoyance of the -above Saturday night.

their wealth and.their want, and even in sin. We find it in Titus ii.: “We ourselves,” etc.; “but after that the love and kindness of God our Saviour,” etc. I have the feeling that if we could live in the light, love, and liberty of Christ, and think of nothing but spreading and extending this on every side, it would be a heaven on earth. I have known a little of this during the days which I have seen of the Son of man; but I think that I did not use it rightly. There was too much of self, of natural enjoyment and exhilaration. I think such seasons come to an end, because we overlook the Author of them, .overvalue the instruments, are not sober in our joy and hope, do not watch, give the enemy opportunity, take the blessing as if it were a matter of course, lose the low, adoring, admiring frame with which we at first received this grace of God. I feel the truth of that word, “If the salt have lost its savour.” If we are to benefit the world, we must be different from it, stronger than it, above its influences; we must break through its trammels, and not be always asking, What will it think? What will it say? How can I keep on terms with it? Let me watch against the flesh. It is always longing for great things, — to be something, to be thought of, talked of, and to pride itself on its‘own wisdom. But I wish to keep to my measure, and not to stretch myself beyond it, but to wait on the Lord; and if He saw good to enlarge my measure, then it will be safe and blessed. It is the divine d/essing that is the source of all true good. He blessed the Sabbath-day. Christ d/essed the bread and fishes 5 He blessed the bread and wine; He dlessed the little company as He ascended.’

A few fragments are all that I find during the records of the rest of this year. ‘I feel as if the kingdom of God were coming to me.’ ‘I need constant, watching prayer, and looking up.’ ‘Need a constant restoration, and holding up.’ ‘Gleams of something better” ‘How good to dwell in the kingdom; to be at home in it; taken up with its interests!’ ‘The Lord is working in me, if so be He will work by mé.’ ‘It seems spiritually to be a low time everywhere; my “strength is to sit still,” to take heed, to turn from self, sin, all my idols, to wait for His Son from heaven.’ ‘Good to get in to the mind of Christ.’ ‘Let Thy-secret be with me; let me not be of those to whom Thou canst not commit Thyself.’ ‘Feeble, but sensible of strength not my own.’ ‘It is the Lord in His free love that comes to us.’ ‘Let me not look at difficulties and objections, like Zecharias, but to the word of promise.’ ‘More cleaving to the Lord.’ ‘A lesson during the day: how little thoughtless people think of their idle words!’ ‘ How few try to be bands, and joints, and corner stones; trying to keep all together, to strengthen and uphold the work!’? ‘I feel a measure of Thy peace which passeth understanding.’ ‘Let me live out of myself, out of the world; the telescope ever in my hand, beholding the good and glory to be revealed. Why seek the living among the dead?? ‘Ups and downs spiritually; conflicts, falls, deliverances. The Lord hath mercy, and so I continue. We have had very much sickness, and many deaths in the congregation since the beginning of the year. We need greatly a time of blessing and increase. We go to London this week (May 2d). Lord, lead and keep me in Thy highway. I am utter weakness; but strengthen, keep, uphold.”*

I notice frequent allusions in his journal to his classes.

1 Travelling in a train (1864), he writes afterwards : — ‘A news-boy was sorting his papers; I said, ‘‘I have a newspaper that never grows old.” He looked up with such an amazed, inquiring face, “What’s that?” I took out my little Bible, and the poor boy felt tt

In these he took great interest. He had great influence among the young men ;1 and had, by his kind yet manly address, a way of winning and attaching them, which few seem to understand. He made a point of becoming thoroughly acquainted with them; and he entered most fully into all their plans and prospects. He was so obliging that there was nothing he would not do for them, either temporally or spiritually. He was delighted to be the ‘servant of all.’

I remember his class of young men, in the early days of his work. It was a most interesting assembly, amounting, even down to the last days of his ministry, to about a hundred. Interest, intelligence, and warm feeling were marked on every face. His young women’s class was no less largely attended. Both of these yielded much fruit, year after year. And down to the very last, his own interest in them remained fresh and fervent. It is not often that we find, at the close of a thirty years’ work, as intense a glow of love and zeal as at the beginning. Yet,so it was here.

In reference to these classes, Mr. Mackie writes the following statement from Warrington, June 11, 1868 : —

“As one of the young men of the revival period of 1840-1-2, I can say that the decease of Mr, Milne evokes the most important reminiscences. To,him, and to the Rev. W. C. Burns, scores of the young men of Perth owe all that made them men

and Christians. Never can I forget the urgent and impressive exhortations he gave us in his Bible class, to be diligent in

1 Tn one of his diaries, there is this petition, ‘Lord, direct me to the way of obtaining influence with young men,’

business as well as fervent in spirit.... I well remember him saying, at the time of the revivals, that when the first news of those at Kelso reached him, he was a minister at Aberdeen; and when, soon after, he opened Old St. Leonard’s to Mr. Burns, and saw him run after by crowds, he felt the common feelings of humanity. But he said that he endeavoured to be content, and let the Lord choose His own instruments; that contentment was to him great gain. He was a chosen vessel to carry the gospel to many, in those days, in Perth.’

Throughout his diary, both in India and in Scotland, we find constantly recurring references to his work. It was more to him than his daily food. ‘Some men,’ it has been said, ‘only work enough to prove that they are unwilling to work.’ Half an hour with Mr. Milne would have satisfied you how much the reverse of this it was with him. ‘You know I like to work,’ are his words in a letter to a friend; and, certainly, no one who had been an hour with him would question the statement. Above most men he loved to work, he delighted in his work. To be idle was irksome. To be resirained from working was that which most tried his patience. In season and out of season he would work. He would preach, or visit, or give away tracts, or do some loving deeds, or speak some loving words. He would throw himself in the way of work; and you could not do him a greater favour than asking him to do some piece of Christian service, of any kind, or to any person. He-was strong in body, his only weak part being his head; and he could undergo an immense amount of fatigue.

That at times he did far too much, and took too little rest, was often evident, as we have already seen; but he rallied wonderfully. Unless when his head was oppressing him, he was most buoyant and untiring. His alertness of motion and upright elastic form — though under the middle size — as he moved along, always gave the impression that his life was that of one in earnest, of one who had a great work to do, and little time to do it in.

He went to London, as the last sentence quoted from. his journal intimates, in May 1864; and while there, he met with an ‘ accident’ which had well-nigh brought death with it. His escape was marvellous, recalling Ps. xci. 11: ‘He shall give His angels charge concerning thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. ‘They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.’ He was walking with a Christian friend in Eaton Place, in pleasant conversation on eternal things, and had just stepped off the pavement to cross the street, when a butcher’s cart dashed round the corner and threw down both of them. Capt. Chapman was thrown to a little distance; but Mr. Milne fell under the horse’s feet. Before the wheels had touched him the driver had pulled back the horse; but this, while it saved him from the wheels, brought the horse back over him a second time. One of the wheels had been arrested by his right thigh, with which it had come into contact, and in which it had inflicted a broad and deep wound, appalling to look upon, the flesh protruding; but the bone was unbroken. There were hoof marks on one of his hands, the fingers being greatly bruised, and also on his’ right cheek, about an inch from the eye; and I remember his telling me that the last recollection he had, when thus lying on the street, was of the hoof coming down upon his cheek. He was taken up insensible, carried into a

shop hard by, and soon after taken to his lodgings in a cab, having by that time quite recovered his consciousness. His clothes were torn to rags, covered with dirt, as well as steeped in blood. The doctor summoned expressed astonishment that he should have escaped with his life. For some days the extent of his injuries could not be properly ascertained; but he soon rallied, and his recovery, by God’s blessing, was very speedy, his excellent constitution and natural fearlessness of character standing him in good stead; and specially his perfect tranquillity of soul, and his happy assurance that all was well, whether death or life were the issue. ‘The following letter, from London to Mr. Cowan, contains his own account of it; brief, but graphic.

‘47, Manchester Street, 15th Fune 1864. — MY DEAR COWAN, — How solemn are our meetings and partings! My medical man tells me, that another inch one way and our fraternal bond would have been broken, till we meet again before the Lord. On Saturday I went down to visit Chapman, a very dear Christian friend. He is old, very benevolent, and the greatest lover of the word of God that I know. We have found it quickening to see how he lives on the truth, and the truth lives in him. His house is in Eaton Place, one of the districts of Belgravia. We left it to go to see some of his interesting institutions for the poor, a little way off. We had to cross the street, which is very wide. I remember looking carefully up and down to see that the way was clear, and then proceeded to pass, holding one another firmly by the arm, and engaged in interesting conversation. Just as we had got about a third or more across, one of those wretched butchers’ carts came rushing round the adjoining corner, and ere we could move or cry, it was upon us like a thunderbolt. I felt a dreadful blow; my hat went one way, my umbrella another. My beloved friend was happily dashed aside, receiving a stunning blow on the ground, and his face and head are much bruised. He still lies very ill. I went down under the horse’s feet, which passed over me, trampling on my body. The driver, as he has since told me, horrified at what he had done, drew back with all his might, and so the horse trampled over me a second time. I just remember the hoofs above me, and the wheels beside me. Captain Chapman was first picked up, and removed to his house close by; then I was extricated from the horse’s feet, and taken to a surgeon’s house. My clothes were torn in a thousand fragments; my face and hands pouring down with blood; and my thigh quite naked, and a mass of bleeding flesh. But I did not feel any of these wounds at the moment, for I had intense agony, when I breathed or moved, about the chest. The whole muscular and nervous system about that region must have been strangely jarred and shaken; so that almost all my suffering has proceeded from this; and yet no bone. was broken. Captain Chapman made me be taken over to his house to wait till his medical man came. We condoled a little; but it was rather a hallelujah, All is well; it will turn to good. But I would not remain; a cab was brought, and I got home. My dear wife and helpmate behaved nobly. She did all that I told my young friends in the class, about presence of mind, and the meek and quiet spirit. I am now fast recovering, though I have been suffering much from pain. I am happy; deeply, solemnly happy. So is B. We have just been saying, since your note came, that this must be owing to the prayers of our friends for us. D.V.,. we hope to be with you this very week. It is a week more than we reckoned upon; but it will be the Sabbatic week, the best of the seven, and none of us will regret it. Sorry not to be with you and the brethren on Wednesday evening; but the Master orders otherwise. Much love to the brethren. Thank all for their prayers.’

This year (1864) the Queen visited Perth, to uncover the statue of Prince Albert. The thought occurred, Could he not do something for her? If she had been of lower rank, he could have given her some suitable book or spoken some special word; but how could he approach Her Majesty? He went to the platform along with other citizens; but it was not to see that he went, but to watch for an opportunity of doing something for her. Others might have their curiosity gratified; he was bent on a higher object; for, to be in that crowd, and yet do nothing there for the Master, was to him impossible. He had often prayed for her; could he not get a word spoken, or at least conveyed to her, whatever might be the difficulties? There was a hymn in which he delighted, and from which he had often drawn consolation in his sorrows: —

‘I shine in the light of God;

His likeness stamps my brow;

Through the valley of death my feet have trod,
And I reign in glory now!

‘No breaking heart is here,
No keen and thrilling pain,

No wasted cheek, where the frequent tear
Hath roll’d and left its stain.

I have reach’d the joys of heaven:
I am one of the sainted band;

For my head a crown of gold is given,
And a harp is in my hand.

I have learn’d the song they sing,
Whom Jesus has set free;

And the glorious walls of heaven still ring
With my new-born melody.

No sin, no grief, no pain;
Safe in my happy home;

My fears all fled, my doubts all slain,
My hour of triumph’s come!

Oh! friends of mortal years,
The trusted and the true!

Ye are watching still in the valley of tears,
But I wait to welcome you.

Do I forget? oh, no!
For memory’s golden chain

Shall bind my heart to the hearts below,
Till they meet to touch again.

Each link is strong and bright:
And love’s electric flame

Flows freely down, like a river of light,
To the world from whence I came.

Do you mourn when another star
Shines out from the glittering sky?

Do you weep when the raging voice of war
And the storms of conflict die?

Then why should your tears run down,
And your hearts be sorely riven, s

For another gem in the Saviour’s crown,
And another soul in heaven?’

Of this hymn he kept neatly printed copies; and one of these, enclosed in a handsome envelope, he took with him, waiting for an opportunity of delivering it. Her Majesty left the carriage, and crossed the platform; but no opportunity occurred. Mr. Milne followed to the neighbouring hotel, where she was to lunch. He went to the hotel, told his errand, and being personally known to the hotel-keeper, was politely received, but told that Her Majesty was going to lunch. Nothing daunted, he asked if he could see any of the royal suite? He was told that they were in an ante-room. He asked to be shown thither, which was done. To this room he found his way, and knocked. ‘The door was opened by Lord Mansfield, who, being a Perthshire nobleman, recognised Mr. Milne, and received him courteously. Mr. Milne, without many words, told him his errand; and said, that he was very desirous that a hymn, which had so comforted himself, should be put into Her Majesty’s hand, that it might comfort her too. His lordship kindly said that he could not present it himself, but that he would take him to General Grey, who was the proper person to give it. Accordingly Mr. Milne was introduced to General Grey, and explained his errand to him; telling him how anxious he was that this hymn of consolation should be given to Her Majesty. General Grey was most cordial, and said at once, ‘ Give it to me, and I promise you it shall be delivered into Her Majesty’s own hands.’ Mr. Milne gladly gave him the envelope with the hymn, and returned home full of thankfulness and hope. Not many would have thought of this; fewer would have done it. But he was always ‘devising’ such things (Isa. xxxii. 8); and he was fertile in expedients for carrying out what he devised. Vunguam non paratus. Dr. M‘Crie said well: ‘It is the Christian’s cowardice that spoils his fortune.’* Of that cowardice Mr. Milne knew nothing. Some of us often envied him his boldness and his readiness; especially when we saw it so chastened with meekness, and singleness of eye.

He kept a large stock of such leaflets and little books, and had them always about him for giving to all he met with. I may safely say that he never wrote a letter or note, however short, without some sentence or word, or leaflet, that spoke the man of God; so that you felt, in

‘Tn his Commentary on Esther.

receiving a note from him, Here is one who cares for me, and is desirous of something more than merely being civil tome. Even when endorsing some notice, or circular, or proofsheet, he would write some word, or few words, either on the outside or on the envelope, that bore a message for eternity. These little abrupt sentences, verses or half-verses, scribbled hastily as he was about to close his envelope, would, if collected, form a most peculiar little book or tract, whose title might be ‘In season and out of season,’ and whose motto might be Edward Irving’s famous sentence, ‘Be thou the pastor always, less than the pastor never.’ ‘The following is an en-. velope scrap: ‘We were a little sharp upon our brother. I always regret when I let a word slip. Let us have a big blazing fire of love, and plenty of hot coals. That’s the way; is it not?’ Here is another: ‘I rejoice in the prosperity of others; it is the Master’s joy, it should be mine.’ Here is another on a communion week: ‘ Pray for me that I may be kept and guided this week; it is often a time of temptation.’ A newspaper came from Calcutta to Collace with ‘ Brethren beloved, pray for us,’ in Greek, addressed, ‘ Rev. A. H. J. J. & W. B.;’ and a note to Glasgow has this postscript: ‘ The Lord is still near, waiting to see if we will constrain Him to abide.’ Another note closes thus: ‘If we earnestly trust in the Lord, and delight in Him, what shall we not get?’ and another: ‘I like the idea of St. Leonard’s being a place of resort for every good work;’ and another: ‘He is our wonder-working Lord;’ and another: ‘ My future is in Christ’s hand, and I have no thought, will, or plan;’ and another: ‘Let us wait for the end of the Lord;’ and once more: ‘ Ah, brother, it is more after the grain to send a note to Alick Somerville, than a petition to the king’s court.’

His attention in cases of the slightest illness, whether sent for or not, was remarkable. He would call immediately on hearing, or write a note, or send a tract, or perhaps his card, with a text upon it. During the cholera he visited the sick, stayed with them for hours, as both nurse and pastor; and when urged by the relatives, on one occasion, not so to expose himself, he said, in his own way, kindly and earnestly, ‘I’m not afraid to die.’ He went to another very infectious case, unsent for (the individual not belonging to his flock), sat beside the sick-bed, spoke the message of peace, and received the warm thanks of the dying man. Thinking that the sufferer wanted something to refresh him, Mr. Milne raised him up and offered him something for his parched lips. ‘No, not that,’ said the dying man, — ‘more of the spiritual drink.’ The cases in which he thus went in search of the sick, or the sinful, or the sorrowful, are innumerable; and his anecdotes of these, his ‘spiritual adventures,’ were truly interesting.:

How he watched for opportunities of dealing with men about their immortal welfare, and found such opportunities where others would hardly have deemed it practicable, the following letter written in Glasgow will show. He had been preaching for Mr. Somerville, and at the close of the service, which in all likelihood was somewhat late, had hastened away to the house of his brother, then in that city. He writes to Mr. S, : —

—-

‘What did you say when you got to the vestry and found the bird flown? But I don’t regret, or repent a bit, of stealing that march upon you. It was a real, but it was a right act of self-denial to forego the brotherly convoy, though it would have been right pleasant and profitable. Your family needed you,! and you needed quiet rest; and so I did right in making the sacrifice. I walked quickly home, and had a nice talk with one of the watchmen, who kept by me till he came to the end of his beat. He thought that a man situated as he was could hardly be expected to be religious. But I fairly turned the tables on him by telling him of a day-watchman with whom I had spoken the other day, who told me that he had to leave his house every morning at six o’clock, but that he never went out without first reading a little of the Bible. I have had several nice talks with young men in this way. I ask a question about the road; they give information; something else follows; they get interested, and once or twice have gone almost to my brother’s house. Your city is wonderfully quiet and orderly. I have seen nothing to offend or annoy in all the long line of streets through which I pass, night after night, unless it be the spirit-sellers, who, wise in their generation, have occupied the commanding positions at the corner of the streets; and, with their rounded fronts, seem to command three, or often four streets at once. In Calcutta I used often, in the fine moonlight nights, to take my staff and a servant, and sally out for long long rounds in the native town, and thus came to know, I fancy, a great deal more than some of our friends who have been there for many years. The Euro-

1 ‘Your family needed you.’ Do not ministers forget this, and soothe their consciences by thinking that they are attending to their flock or to public duties? Hence the children of ministers lose that special and powerful training which is to be found in the society of their father.. For this nothing can compensate. The perfect mould of character (apart from the mere educational) has a faternal as well as a maternal side. If one side of the mould be withheld, the character will be thus far deficient.

pean, or west end, is quite detached from the native town, and so one may live long in Calcutta and yet know very little of the natives. There are many bad people there; but I was surprised and pleased to see so large an amount of quiet order, regular industry, and domestic comfort. At night, you know, all is alive and on the move. But I am taking coals to Newcastle; for ed Jo sono orientale. — Believe me, very affectionately yours, Clee

Not in Glasgow only did he thus get hold of the night-watchmen. He did the same in Perth; and at late hours might be seen standing in talk with the watchman, or walking by his side. One night he got into earnest talk with one of them, entreating him to give himself to Christ. “When I marry a couple,’ he said, ‘I say to the woman, “Wilt thou take this man for thy husband?” and to the man, “Wilt thou take this woman for thy wife?” and so the marriage is concluded. Now, I ask you, will you take Christ to-night?’ Thus he stood pleading with the man; and then taking out his pocket Bible, which he always carried with him, he asked him to turn the bright side of his lantern so as to flash the light on the page, and thus standing, he read some verses, and parted. Some laughed at such doings, others thought him mad. Yet, if he believed what he professed, could he do otherwise? And if they are mad who take unusual methods of rescuing the lost, what are they who take no methods at all? What are they who believe there is such a thing as a lost soul, and yet meet with or pass by thousands of these each week, without one word of love or of warning spoken?

Another striking incident in reference to this class of men may here be added, to show how, ‘in season and out of season,’ he carried on his heavenly embassy, beseeching men to be reconciled.

It was his invariable practice to accompany his friends or guests to the train when they left; to carry their umbrella, or plaid, or carpet-bag, and to give them a parting text or little book. He did so once with his friend Mr. Riddell of Dundee, who had been preaching for him, and who was to start by the late train. On reaching the station they found themselves half an hour too early. ‘I’ll get you some work to do,’ said Mr. M. to his companion. He disappeared at one of the entrances, and then re-appeared, bringing with him the watchman of the station, with whom he had been more than once dealing about eternal things. Leaving Mr. R. with the man, he went home. The man was anxious, but full of doubts. Mr. Riddell remained with him preaching the good news; and the light seemed to enter the poor man’s heart. On the following morning the newspaper announced the sudden death, from heart-disease, of ‘the watchman of the Perth station.’ Paul had planted, Apollos had watered, God had given the increase; but the corn thus suddenly ripened was as suddenly cut down.

As he had himself come out from the world, so did he seek with all earnestness to draw others out. Like Noah, he ‘condemned the world’ (Heb. xi. 7).

Robert M‘Cheyne’s life and ministry formed a very decided testimony against the world and worldly pleasures. In his private conversations, in his dealings with young people, in his sermons, in his ‘fencing the tables,’ in

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ROBERT M‘CHEVNE AGAINST WORLDLINESS. 327

his after-communion addresses, he spoke out with decision; and some of the most vehement things we ever heard from his lips were in condemnation of the ‘lovers of pleasure.’ He spoke out against the theatre, the ball-room, the card-table, ‘sparing no arrows.’ In his younger days he had tasted the world’s pleasures, but found them poor.’ In the beginning of 1838 he had some striking sermons on 1 Pet. i. 14-19, the notes of which are now before us. Thus he spoke, and thus he speaks still: ‘ My dear friends, if you wish to obey the word of God here laid before you, flee from all circumstances, from all places or companies, where you know you may be tempted to sin. Are there not some of you who appear to be awakened and to rejoice in Christ, who yet go, with a bold and daring countenance, into idle companies and places where you know you will meet with temptation? Is this fearing to sin? “Do you wish us to be hermits?” you will say. No such

‘There were few things that Mr. M‘Cheyne more dreaded than ‘worldly amusements’ in the families of professing Christians, especially of ministers. Let those who think that he was narrow-minded and too rigid, test his views by our Lord’s words concerning the world, or by the epistles of His apostles afterwards, especially those of the beloved disciple. ‘The extent to which novel-reading, dancing parties, private theatricals, card-playing, luxurious feasting and dressing, loose, frivolous, and profane song-singing, with other exhibitions of utter worldliness, prevail even in professedly Christian families, with the sanction and under the eye of office-bearers in the Church, would hardly be believed. Can we wonder at so many of the children of apparently good men turning out ill, when we know that <‘ Love not the world” was no maxim in their training?’ Such is the statement of one who knew something about the ways of ‘ Christian families.’ It was no Puritan who called the world ‘an infinite masquerade.’ Risw necat, thing. But do you know a company where holy things are slighted, where things are spoken that should not be named, where late, unholy hours are kept, where you have already been tempted to sin? Then, child of God, I charge you not to cross that threshold again, no, not once. I charge you, flee temptation; pass the time of your sojourning here in fear. And here I cannot but allude to an awful provocation of God, which, I have reason to fear, is carried on amongst us. I mean young persons, after the holiest exercises, plunging into the unholiest companies; praying in the house of God, or in a class for religious instruction one hour, and entering into ungodly company the very next. I beseech the unconverted among you to leave off this practice, if you would not have God send some sore judgment on your soul. I charge the children of God among you to leave off this practice, now and for ever. Ah, fear to sin! Flee the world! Flee company! Pass the time of your sojourning here in fear.’

Of the same spirit was John Milne. Of the same tone was his ministry. And ‘love not the world’ came well from his lips; for he lived what he preached. No man could suspect him of loving the world, or caring for its pleasures, or its gold, or its literature, or its company.

It is by being filled with the love of God, and admiration of ‘the world to come,’ that we are made impervious to this world and its attractions. Nothing else will do. Hence the folly of asceticism. It is only before heavenly love and beauty that earthly love and beauty will give way. ‘The world’s pleasures: can they co-exist with the love of the Father? ‘The world’s religion: is it not poorer even than its pleasures? The world’s polish: is it not tinsel, if not rust? Yet an effort is being made by some to reconcile the two worlds and their two masters; nay, to make the religion of Christ in part consist of an enjoyment of the pleasures of life. The construction of a worldly religion, and the enjoyment of religious worldliness, are marked features of the age.

Both these men of God understood the world,’ and recognised in it the adversary of God and His Church, alike in its persecutions and its blandishments. It was not to them a thing of the first century, but of the nineteenth as truly. The theology that teaches men zot ‘to come out and be separate,’ but to enjoy the world and its pleasures, did not fit in to their system. Worldliness, however refined, was still worldliness in their eyes, because inconsistent with the love of the Father. ‘If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him’ (1 John ii. 15). Religious worldliness, or worldly religiousness, seemed to them of all things most opposed to the spirit of Christ.

God and the world cannot find room in the same heart now, any more than in former ages. The ‘reproach of Christ’ (Heb. xi. 26) is now much the same in England as it was in Egypt once; and ‘ without the camp’ (Heb. xili, 13) cannot mean ‘within.’ The attempt to efface the line that separates ‘ within’ from ‘without’ can only succeed by the creation of a new Christianity, from which some of the great features of the old are struck out. The world and the Church have been found at times not unwilling to patronize each other. The world has undertaken to be religious, provided the Church will consent to be worldly. The basis of the proposed compromise is the mutual understanding that a man may be worldly, and yet a good man; that a man may be a Christian, and yet not a very bad man after all.

There was nothing of this compromise in the preaching or the lives of these two men of God. Separation from the world was what they taught and lived. No amount of supposed progress, or refinement, or elevation could make the world less the world, or remove its hatred of Christ (John xv. 18), or produce the love of holiness, or supersede the necessity of cleansing by the blood, or regeneration from above. Certain modern philosophers and poets, in evolving what they have called the human side of Christianity, proceed upon the defence or consecration of ‘ worldliness.’ They also assume that old Christianity, whether of the first or the seventeenth century, is not suited to an age of progress and intellect like ours:

‘Your creeds are dead, your rites are dead,
Your social order, too;
Where tarries He, the power who said,
“*See, I make all things new?”

The millions suffer still and grieve;
And what can helpers heal?

With old-world cures men half believe
For woes they wholly feel.’

The ministry of these two men showed that they had not so learned Christ. They believed that what man needed was salvation; that the gospel for humanity in all ages is that gospel which is ‘the power of God unto salvation;’ and that this salvation comes not through philosophy, or science, or sacramental grace, or connection with a church, but through the cross of Christ and the Spirit of the living

God. ‘Thus they preached, and thus multitudes believed. Mr. Milne’s consistency was as marked as his separation from the world. His conformity to ‘the world to come’ was as decided as his non-conformity to ‘ this present evil world.’ His relish for it had long passed away, ever since he had tasted the love that passeth knowledge, and known the grace of God in truth. And this disrelish for lower things; and relish for the higher, is our great preservative against worldly conformity. Place Mr. Milne anywhere, in any company, his unworldliness showed itself. Place him next a worldly man in a room, in a railway carriage, on the highway, in the course of two minutes’ conversation his character came out. It could not be hid. Exceedingly well-informed, gifted with great powers of conversation, and with a most versatile mind, he could take up any topic; and, ere his neighbour was aware, he would imperceptibly give the conversation a higher turn, and, in the gentlest of words and tones, introduce the great question of personal relationship to God.t He might meet a mourner in the street; he would go up and speak words of consolation. He might see a sickly person passing; he would go and offer his arm, for the purpose of bringing to him the glad tidings. Many interesting, we might say romantic, stories of this kind has he modestly told us

1 What the Pagan Pliny said respecting his philosophic friend Euphrates, is in a higher sense true of Mr. Milne: ‘Sermo est copiosus et varius; dulcis imprimis, et qui repugnantes quoque ducat et impellat. Vite sanctitas summa, comitas par.’

A in our quiet walks; for incidents, such as those referred to above, were to him of every-day occurrence. He could hardly pass any one without making use of the opportunity of speaking a word, or giving a leaflet or book. In season and out of season he preached, and spoke, and acted. The full heart could not but flow out; and, strange to say, almost invariably without offence being taken, so courteous, so gentlemanly, so kind, so unobtrusive was his manner.

Sometimes he might get at first a sharp word, but his ‘soft answer’ immediately turned away the wrath; and as he never took offence, or lost his temper, he soon gained the advantage. Once when he was with me at Kelso for a few days, we went down to the Berwick coast together; and, going into a third-class carriage, we found a good number of passengers, among whom we went distributing some tracts. At the end of the carrlage sat a young man in the attitude of resistance. Mr. Milne approached him with a tract. He thrust it away, saying, rudely, that he wanted none of these things. ‘ Very well, my dear friend, said Mr. Milne, gently, ‘very well; but perhaps you’ll change your mind, and if you do, come to me, as I have still some remaining.’ We took our seats again in the carriage, and sat, perhaps a quarter of an hour, conversing together, — the passengers quietly reading the tracts, — when we saw the young man making his way to us from the other end of the carriage. ‘I’ve changed my mind, and I’ll thank you for a tract,’ said he. The tract was given at once, and a word in season along with it to the stranger as he left the carriage.

That same day we were walking together along the sandy beach on the south side of the Tweed, just opposite Berwick, enjoying the sea breeze, and watching the fishermen drawing their salmon-nets. We came up to two who were busy on the shore ‘mending their nets,’ or putting them in order. Mr. Milne at once saluted them. ‘You are fishermen, I see, my dear friends.’ ‘ Yes,’ said they, ‘we are.’ ‘I’m a fisherman too,’ said he. They looked at him as if they did not just hear what he said. ‘I’m a fisherman, my friends,’ he said; but without any explanation. They smiled, and implied that they did not - quite believe him. ‘Yes,’ said he again, ‘Tm a fisherman, and so is my brother here. We are both fishermen.’ The attention of the men being now fixed, and their eyes turned on him, he explained himself, telling them that he had come to fish them.

When walking out, if he saw a man breaking stones by the road-side, he would often say a word to him about the hardness of his work, and then add, ‘Do you know I am a stone-breaker too?’ and this would lead to a conversation about the heart of stone.

No one could mzstake him at any time, or not discover in the course of five minutes ‘ whose he was and whom he served.’ Some of us, when thrown into unpleasant company, prefer remaining silent rather than risk unpleasant collision. Not so Mr. Milne. He did not fear being affronted. He did not hesitate to speak, and he had always a word in season, — a mild word too; no sharpness, no dogmatism, no resentment. He seemed incapable of being provoked or ruffled by any amount of opposition; and the ‘ My friend,’ or ‘ My dear friend,’ with which he prefaced each reply, disarmed and won the opposer.

He bore being rallied upon the long sermons of his early ministry with great good-nature, and would pleasantly reply, ‘Ah, well, my dear friend, perhaps you are right, I was too long; but, after all, God used the sermon you speak of. I heard of some who were awakened that day.’

With the greatest humility and modesty, — for he did not think of himself at all, — he was one of the most independent both in thought and action that you could meet with. He was equally at home in conversing with the poor or rich; and his uncommonly easy manners found access for him everywhere. His affability prevented awkwardness, even among strangers; and the cheerful nod of the head that accompanied his quiet words set each one at ease, as if all had been old friends.

Some are more ready at missing than at making opportunities of doing good. Seldom did. Mr. Milne let slip an opportunity; often did he make it. He seemed constantly on the watch for some one on whom to let fall a — word of wisdom or love. Of the Master it was said, ‘ This man receiveth (is on the outlook, lies in wait for, mpoodexerat) sinners? Luke xv. 2. So was it with the servant in the present case. Before he went out he prayed, in going along he prayed, on coming home he prayed. In answer to these prayers, opportunities, often of the most unexpected kind, were given him. Little, perhaps, did they with whom he thus casually met, think that the word he spoke to them as he passed, or as he walked along with them, was a message in answer to the speaker’s prayer.

He entered a friend’s house as one who desired to bring blessing with him, not unfrequently giving the apostolic salutation, ‘Peace be to this house.’ For parents, for children, and for servants he had a word and a look. The following incident is given as fitted to touch the hearts of children. At. a brother minister’s house once, he was much interested with his host’s little daughter, of some four or five years old. He taught her a little prayer — it was, ‘O Lord, give me a new heart, for Jesus Christ’s sake. Amen.’ Some months after, he heard of the child’s death, and also, that for some time she had regularly said the prayer; but one day she had omitted it; and when her mother asked the reason she had forgotten Mr. Milne’s prayer, ‘Oh, no!’ she said, ‘but I have dot it’ (got it), meaning the new heart.

If he met a friend in the street, he had some ready word of peace to greet him with. If he went into a shop, he would take occasion, from the articles he was buying, to say a word in season. If he drove in a cab, he would not part from the cabman till he had given him some little book, or spoken some text, or reminded him of his higher calling. Station-masters, guards, porters knew him, for he was so much in the habit of engaging them in conversation wherever he might happen to be. In every man he saw a being on whom a word might tell for eternity; and he acted accordingly. At his own table, or at the table of others, he was the most polite and genial of men; yet with no ‘foolish talking nor jesting,’ no frivolity nor unseemly conversation.

He would speak to the beggar, and, after supplying his need, bid him go to Christ and beg for his soul. He would speak to the servants shaking their mats at the door, and remind them of John Bunyan’s room of dust, and how it was laid. He would speak with equal ease to the rich and great; for his natural politeness and presence of mind enabled him to approach any one, whether rich or poor, with equal ease. He would condole with a person who had met with losses, pointing him to the riches which are never lost; and he would congratulate another on his gains, reminding him at the same time of the world to come, and the better gains.

He would go out of his way to get an opportunity of doing good; nor did he stand on ceremony or dignity in his efforts to win and save. He did not feel that he had done anything undignified when, one evening, in the streets of Perth, he gave full chase to three boys who ran away from him as he was trying to persuade them to come in to his Sabbath school. Nor did he think he had done anything out of the way when he got up on the engine, amid smoke and dust, and drove along for a stage, in order to get a talk with the driver and stoker; or when he marched into church, followed by four soldiers whom he had met as they were going to walk, and persuaded to turn in and hear the word of life.

He sought the outcasts; he sought the Roman Catholics, so that he won the hearts of many of these latter, especially of the children, for whom he had always a pleasant smile and a happy text as he passed along the street, or down the Meal Vennel.

It may be well to notice here his connection with the

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Perth Conferences. With these he was associated from first to last; for at the last Conference (September 1868), he being dead yet spoke, as it was he who drew out the programme. He grudged no labour, no cost, no trouble of any kind, in making preparations for these annual gatherings; and a very large amount of correspondence in regard to it passed through his hands. The preparatory meetings in Mr. Milne’s house, in which Mr. Macdonald of St. Martin’s, Mr. Grant of Arndilly, Mr. Mudie of Montrose, and others took part, will be remembered by all present at them for their happy brotherly spirit, — a spirit to which the loving, well-pleased face of Mr. Milne contributed not a little. Here is the sketch of the Conference history, which he prefixed to the report of 1867 :1 —

‘The Perth Religious Conference sprung out of “Evangelistic Open-Air Meetings” convened by Colonel Macdonald Macdonald of St. Martin’s. He attended the great open-air gathering held in the summer of 1860 in the park of the late Duchess of Gordon at Huntly Lodge. He was so affected by the scene and its results, that he came home determined, through God’s blessing, to have something of the same kind

at Perth. He called a meeting for consultation; but ministers and people were almost all out of town enjoying their annual

1 * As to the little book [above noted], I have no doubt the Lord has a good reason for the delay in its coming out; ‘‘wait on the Lord, and be of good courage.” I liked very much Captain Trotter’s little meetings for prayer [parents for their children]. It was a new but blessed feature. Iam so glad that you are seeing fruit, — glad of the work at Ferryden. The Lord has a favour to that place, and it is interesting to see how ardently the good Arklays long for blessing upon it.’ — Letter to Mr. Mudie of Montrose.

we holiday. Still he persevered, though with little encouragement or help. I remember that, on the morning of the first day, a. number of Christian friends met in my house, facing the South Inch, within a stone-throw or two of the picturesque spot where, shaded by a clump of trees, the stand for the speakers was erected, and a large tent pitched for the anxious and inquiring. There was more fear than faith in that little company; but we did the best thing we could in the circumstances, — we knelt down with one accord, and called on the Lord. One began, another followed in the same strain, and another and another, without interruption, till the supplication went round the whole circle. It was really one prayer uttered by many voices. Somehow, as we went on, we seemed to breathe more freely, our hearts were enlarged, our hopes became buoyant. We rose from our knees, and all turned to the windows; and what a sight met our eyes! Thousands were already assembled, and hundreds were trooping in from all quarters. We felt that the Lord had gathered them, and that He was now going forth with us to the battle. When the service began, it was thought that seven or eight thousand people were collected. Soon came the answer to prayer; the arrows of the King were sharp; the tent was filled with anxious souls; little groups were here and there, all over the Inch, conversing, kneeling in prayer, or praising God for light and salvation. In a little while the adjoining church, conveniently at hand, was opened, and numbers of the awakened resorted to it for conversation.

“In the evening, they met in the City Hall, crowded with from two to three thousand persons; and the Lord was present to wound and to heal. The second day resembled the first, and so did the third. But towards the close of the last meeting, the Spirit seemed to come as a rushing wind, and speakers and hearers were alike astonished. One dear brother came home at the end, crying, “The Lord has come!” another followed, crying, “The Lord has come indeed!”

‘It had been arranged that next night, Friday, a meeting should be held in the church, where the anxious had been dealt with at the morning meetings. The minister of that church was sitting next morning at breakfast with a beloved brother in the ministry, when the thought came suddenly with power into his heart, Why should the meeting to-night be in a particular church? Why not in the City Hall, where all could participate? The thought made him start up, and say to his brother, “Will you stay and take part?” “Yes,” said his.friend, “with all my heart.” After looking up to God, and a moment’s consultation with a brother minister in town, the ball was taken for the night, and placards issued intimating the meeting. When we met, the place was completely crammed; and, though the strangers were gone, yet the interest and impression were the same as before. The hall was immediately taken for a week, and then indefinitely, and for seventy nights in succession it was crowded as at the first; and seven or eight hundred persons remained night after night to be conversed with. It was a great harvest; the ministers of the town laboured lovingly together; and each reaped fruit unto eternal life.

“Next year similar meetings were held for three days with blessed results. But Colonel Macdonald and his friends began to feel that there was a risk in being in the open air in our proverbially changeable climate; and so, in 1863, all the meetings were held in the City Hall. There were three meetings each day, as at present: forenoon, for short addresses on a fixed subject, and by selected speakers; afternoon, for free conversation on practical subjects connected with the work of God; and evening, for evangelistic addresses, the subjects being left to the choice of the different speakers. At the commencement of this new series of meetings, the name was changed to Perth Religious Conference, this term being suggested by Mr. Gordon For long, and adopted in imitation of the well-known Barnet Conferences. Mr. Pennefather was largely consulted in regard to the arrangements; and he kindly came down to the first meeting to help and countenance. Perhaps it may not be uninteresting to notice the subjects opened up at the forenoon meetings in the succeeding years, In 1863, they were, (1) Love to Father, Son, and Spirit, how promoted and how maintained; Love to Saints; Love to a Lost World; (2) Searching the Scriptures daily; (3) The Believers position in the world, accepted, working, waiting. In 1864, they were, Progress, Fruitfulness, Holiness; in 1865, Rejoicing, Working, Resting; in 1866, Peaceful, Hopeful, Watchful. This present year Mr. Grant of Arndilly presided, as he did in 1865, in consequence of the illness and absence of his friend Colonel Macdonald.

‘The Lord surely has a favour for these meetings. He has been a wall of fire around them, and the glory in the midst. Untoward things, like frowning clouds, have sometimes appeared in the horizon; but they have speedily changed their character, and become real and helpful blessings. They have been constantly growing in interest and importance. Many look forward to them with desire, prayer, and hope. Some have been converted at them, and others have learned the way of the Lord more perfectly. There have been many testimonies all along from God’s people concerning the comfort and quickening they have received. One child of God said the other day, “We have been in Halleluiah land.” An honoured brother in the Lord writes, “What will glory be, when there is so much enjoyment in a twinkle of it ?» — J. M.’

How much we missed him at our last Conference, in September 1868, those who had enjoyed his fellowship at the preceding ones can best say. We missed him from the platform and from the private circle. His fervent voice, his bright expression of face, his pointed petitions, his outstretched right hand in prayer, whether in the congregation or the Conference, were well remembered by many.