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MEMAIOIRS,
INCLUDING
LETTERS, AND SELECT REMAINS,
OF
J O H N::U R  U II A RT,
LATE OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF ST. ANDREW'S.
BY WILLIAM ORME.
WITH A PREFATORY NOTICE AND RECOMMENDATION,
BY ALEXANDER DUFF, D. D., LL. D.
i:"Multis ille:bonis flebilis occidit."-forat Carm,.::: What though short: tly: qdate?
Virtu e. not rolling suns, the ind matures: -
The man of wisdom is fthe: man of ears.,",-Your.




Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by
A. W. MITCHELL, M.D.,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States in and for the
Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
STEREOTYPED BY J. FAGANS.
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C O NT E N T S.
PAGE
PREFATORY NOTICE AND RECOMMENDATION................  7
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION..............................   29
CHAPTER I.
Introductory observations — John's birth, and early education
-John sent to the Grammar School of Perth- Mr. Duff's
account of him while there.........................    33
CHAPTER II.
Difficulties in determining his profession —He is sent to the
University of St. Andrew's — Letter to his father, giving an
account of his gaining the first bursary - Letter to his
mother - His success at the end of the first session-Mr.
Duff's observations on his conduct at this time -Return to
St. Andrew's - Letter, giving an account of his early impressions, and change of mind - Remarks on this subject - His
views of Christian fellowship - Success at the end of his
second session...........................................  44
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4                       CONTENTS.
CIAPTER III.
PAGR
Introduction to Dr. Chalmers -Attends the Moral Philosophy
class - First appearance at this class - Letter to his father,
on the formation of the University Missionary Society- On
the same, and other topics - Mr. Duff's account of the progress of his religious views —Letter to his parents, on the
death of a younger brother -Letter to Mr. Orme, partly on
the same subject - Letter to his mother - Letter to his brother
Letter to his sister - Letter to an afflicted friend - Letter
to the same - His diligence at Dr. Chalmers's class - Letter
to a young friend - Letter to his fatler - Success during the
third session at College- View of John's talents and character at this time, by a fellow-student.......................  65
CHAPTER IV.
Introductory observations-John's return home at the end of
his third session -Letter respecting his going to some of the
Dissenting Academies —Letter illustrative of his state of
mind — Letters- His employments during the vacation —
Letter to Mr. Craik -His visit to London - Mr. Adam's account of him at this time — Letters to his father- Engagements during the winter - Letters to a friend - Letter to his
brother — Letter to his mother — Letter to a friend - Letter
to Mr. Orme - Opposition of his friends to his Missionary
devotedness - Mr. Duff's account of him - Testimonies to
his literary attainments — Mr. Alexander's account of him
-Dr. Chalmers's certificate............... 108
CHAPTER V
Letter to his Mother in reference to his becoming a Tutor in a
family of high respectability- Letter to Herbert Smith, Esq.




CONTENTS.                              5
PAGH
-Extracts from his Journal-Letter to Mr. Craik- LetterExtracts from his Journal-Letter to Mr. Trail-Letter to
his Sister — Letters -Extracts from various letters to Mr.
Scott Moncrieff - Letter to his frieind C. - Letter to Mr. Herbert Smith- Letter to the Rev. John Burnett- Letter to Mr.
Adam - Letter to Mr. Orme- Letter - Letters to his Sister
- Letter to Mr. Trail- Letter to Mr. Adam -Letter to his
afflicted friend - Letter to Mr. Trail.....................  176
CIIHAPTER VI.
The commencement of his last illness -Extract from  his
Journal - Letter to Mr. Tate - Letter to Mr. Craik - Letter
to his father- Letter from Mr. Ewing to his father - Letter
from  Mrs. Ewing to the same —Letter from Mrs. Ewing,
giving an account of his illness and death —Letter from
Miss Cathcart on the same subject- His death - Letter from
Dr. Chalmers to his father —Lines addressed to John by a
friend-Concluding observations on his character and death. 247
APPENDIX.
A.-An Essay on the Nature and Design of the Mission of the
Saviour on Earth.............................. 279
B.-Dr. Chalmers - The St. Andrew's Missionary Society.....  286
C.-Essay on the Division of Philosophy................. 295
Essay on the Analogy which subsists between the Operations
of Nature and the Operations of Political Economy...... 297
That Knowledge gives its Possessor more Power than
Wealth does....................................... 302
An Essay on the Selfish System...................... 306
1*




6                       CONTENTS.
PAGH
D.-The Doctrine of a Gradation in Rewards and Punishments,
and an attempt to apply it to the subject of Missions... 311
E.-Essay on the Distinction between Productive and Unproductive Labour......................... 326
F.-On Written Language................................. 331
On Religious Establishments.......................... 334
On the Love of Fame................................ 336
G.-Discourse on 2 Cor. iv. 13......................... 340
H. —Essay on Natural Religion.                               356
I. — Prize Essay. —On the Mutual Influences and Affinities,
which obtain between the Moral and the Economic condition of Society.................3..............     363
K.-Address to the St. Andrew's University Missionary Society,
on the Duty of Personal engagement in the work of
Missions..........................           381
L.-Address to a Society of Young Men.......... 400
Address to his Class of Young Men................. 408
M.-On Fiction as a Medium of Religious Instruction......... 413
On the Omnipresence and Omniscience of God............. 418




PREFATORY NOTICE
AND
RECOMMENDATION.
BY THE REV. DR. DUFF.
HAVING been personally acquainted with the sul^ject of the following memoir, I was requested, during my recent visit to the United
States, by my revered friend James Lenox, Esq., of New York, to look
over the last English edition, and mark what alterations might advantageously be made in a projected American edition of the work.
This revision, hitherto delayed from unavoidable causes which it
is needless to recount, has now been accomplished. As the general
result, it may be stated that several minor mistakes, into which the
Biographer had inadvertently fallen, have been corrected; that various passages of inferior importance, or of merely local or ephemeral
interest, have been omitted; that the essays of a purely literary or
philosophical character have been extruded from the body of the
work and thrown into an Appendix; and finally, that the whole has
been broken up into the more convenient division of chapters.
With many it may be a matter of doubt, whether the essays ought
not to be excluded altogether. But, on mature consideration, it has
been thought that the same reasons which weighed with the Biographer in originally introducing them, may well be regarded as still
sufficiently valid in warranting the continued retention of them.
They are not numerous; they do not occupy any considerable or disproportionate space; and they may serve to show the students of
(7)




8                PREFATORY  NOTICE.
mere secular philosophy, how, between true science and true religion,
there is not only no real discrepancy, but a beauteous and mutually
enhancing harmony; and how, with the utmost ease, precision, and
intelligence, a Christian young man, whose whole soul was inflamed
-with the spirit of missions, could, in the ordinary course of his
academic career, and at the call of duty, turn aside and successfully
grapple with some of the most abstruse and perplexing questions in
ethics and political economy. Considered as the college exercises of
a youth of little more than sixteen, they cannot but be pronounced
as no ordinary productions. Their simplicity, as Mr. Orme has truly
remarked, constitutes their charm; the lucidus ordo is most delightfully exemplified in every one of them; his thoughts constantly flow
in a train peculiarly clear, always natural and unaffected; and the
easy diction in which he expressed himself was the perfect picture
of his mind.
The grand object, however, of the memoir is, to exhibit the rise,
progress, and formation of the religious character of the individual
whose short life is illustrated. Amid the many clustering excellencies that adorned that character, by far the most prominent and
striking was the evangelistic spirit and self-devotion by which it was
so peculiarly distinguished. It was this which chiefly conferred on
it at once its lustre and its uniqueness. The Church of Christ in all
lands can happily point to not a few young men of sincere and
shining piety; but, unhappily, to very few, who, at the age of young
Urquhart, have been privileged to obtain and cherish so marvellously
clear and intelligent an apprehension of the duty of exemplifying
that piety by a solemn act of personal dedication to the God-like
enterprise of the world's evangelization.
It is under this more distinctive aspect of it, that I would earnestly
crave the special attention of Christian young men in general, and
more particularly of Christian students and candidates for the ministry, to the life of John Urquhart.




PREFATORY  NOTICE.                           9
In his case, we find the true rationale of personal dedication to the
cause of missions, unfolded with singular point and clearness.
In early youth it was his inestimable privilege to enjoy the benefit
of religious training, under the instruction and example of pious
parents.  Being naturally of a mild, gentle, amiable, guileless,
Nathanae]l-like disposition, such example and instruction could not
fail to have their due effect, in not only restraining him from the
commission of gross outward sin, and saving him from the contagious
influences of evil companionship, but also in superinducing a habit
of internal conformity to the practices of Christian devotion and
worship. Still, until he had passed his fourteenth year, there is
no evidence whatever of his having undergone the great change
of the new birth in the soul. On this subject, his own statement to
his pastor, Mr. Orme, is perfectly explicit. Writing, in April, 1824,
he says, " My first impressions of danger, as a sinner, were caused
by a sermon you preached, on a Lord's day evening, about a year
and a half ago. At the time, I was very much affected; it was then,
I think, that I first really prayed. I retired to my apartment, and
with many tears confessed my guilt before God."
This first partial awakening occurred towards the close of the
autumn of 1822. Soon afterwards he went, for the first time, to the
College of St. Andrew's.  There his first religious impressions became somewhat blunted, though not effaced. On his return home in
the summer of 1823, he tells us that he began to feel less pleasure in
the exercises of prayer, and praise, and reading of the Scriptures;
yea, that these employments became a weariness to him, and were at
last almost totally neglected. " My soul," he adds, "reverted to its
original bent, and the follies of this world wholly engrossed my
attention, and had I been left in that state,.I must have inevitably
perished."
But the Lord, who is rich in mercy, and who delighteth not in the
death of the wicked, had better things in store for him. Through the




10               PR EFATO  Y  NOTICE.
powerful operation of the Holy Spirit, a process of illumination and
conviction was commenced and carried on in his soul, until at last it
issued in manifest conversion to God. Returning to St. Andrew's,
for the second time, towards the close of tile autumn of 1823, he was
enabled, before the end of that session, thus to write: "God, in his
infinite mercy, has again been pleased to call my attention to the
things of eternity. For some months back, I have been led to see
the utter worthlessness of earthly things; to see that happiness is
not to be found in any earthly object. And I think I have been led
to seek it where alone it is to be found -in Jesus crucified for me.
I have felt great pleasure in communion with God; and I have felt
some love, though faint, to the Saviour and to his cause. I have had
a long struggle with the world. I have counted the cost, and I have
at last resolved that I will serve the Lord."
Under these re-awakened and more vital impressions, and as a
scripturally ordained means of heightening and permanizing them,
he at once resolved openly to profess his faith in Jesus, by formally
entering the communion and fellowship of a Christian church.
Relative to this decisive step, his biographer with equal truth and
emphasis remarks, that his reasons for taking it, "were those by
which he appeared to have been invariably influenced in his religious course. He first sought to ascertain what was the will of God;
and on arriving at a satisfactory conclusion on this point, he was
then prepared to encounter all difficulties which stand in the way of
full compliance with it. He delayed not, but hastened to keep the
commandment."
On being received as a member of the Church of Christ, he not
only felt keenly alive to the seriousness and solemnity of the step he
had taken, but entertained the most humbling sense of his own
weakness and unworthiness, — coupled, however, with a wellgrounded reliance on the all-sufficiency of his covenant God: "I
see," he remarks, "many temptations in my way, and I feel that I




PREFATORY  NOTICE. I11
am not able in myself to withstand them. May God perfect his
strength in my weakness, and may he enable me henceforth to live,
not to myself, but to Iimn who died for me, and who rose again; to
offer my body a living sacrifice, and to devote all the faculties of my
mind to his service."
These were no mere words of course, expressive of aspirations that
were to perish with the utterance. No; they were the spontaneous
effusion of an intensely conscientious and ingenuous mind. From
the day that he united himself, as a member, to the body or visible
Church of Christ, by a deliberate act of public communion, it was
clear to all around, that he regarded himself, in strictest literality,
as " no longer his own," but as one "bought with a price;" and
therefore bound to serve his divine Lord and Redeemer, with " soul,
body, and spirit, which were his." Suddenly startled out of the
dreamy indifference and illusory visions of old nature   arrested in
his downward career towards the fiery lake -snatched as a brand
from the burning - and overwhelmed under a vividly realizing sense
of so great a deliverance, he might well have given expression to the
actual inner workings and new spiritual instincts of his soul in words
like these: " Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?  How can I most
effectually testify my adoring gratitude and love? Ihere am I a sinful, guilty rebel, ransomed by thy blood firom the power of sin, and
death, and hell, and the grave; do with me what thou wilt, for I am
thy servant, under obligation the most absolute to be and to do
whatsoever thou wilt."
Assuredly, in his case, there was no first consulting with mere
flesh and blood! No tacit reserve in favour of mere natural tastes
or antecedent predilections! No partial or half deference to the
whims or humours, the likings or prejudices of friends! No plausible transference, through a voluntary humility, of individual personal
responsibility to the arbitrary decision of others! No secret clinging
or cleaving to any favourite or previously cherished scheme or depart



12               PREFATORY  NOTICE.
went of labour! No timorous respect to the ordinary routine or
stereotyped conventionalities of ecclesiastical usage! No!  "Htere
I am, Lord, whenever, wherever, in what way soever thou wilt have
me to serve thee —only do thou show me, that I may promptly
obey,"- seems but the faithful and compendious embodiment of the
real feelings and convictions of his heart.
It was, then, when in this Isaiah-like, Paul-like mood and frame
of mind, the true spring and source of noblest self-renunciaticon and
most heroic self-sacrifice, that the Lord was pleased powerfully to
impress his mind with a desire to devote himself to the Christian
ministry, in direct connection with the reat work of heathen evangelization, as the sphere in which, if rightly improved, most glory
might accrue to God, and most good to the souls of men. Thus it
was, that in his case, the evangelistic spirit, which ultimately led to
so solemn an act of personal consecration, was coeval with the dawn
and manifestation of the new birth in his soul. Planted there, as in
a soil prepared by the Holy Spirit, and watered by the dews of the
heavenly grace, the tender germ gradually sprung up into stature
and strength, keeping pace with the growth of the new man, until,
at last, it bore the ripened fruit of an unconquerable resolve.
It is true that with the subject of missions, in its general aspects,
he had long been well acquainted. It was one in which his pious
parents and pastor were deeply interested. It was, therefore, linked
with many of his earliest and most familiar home associations.  But
it was not until he himself was sought out, effectually called, and
quickened, as one of the lost, that he began to feel the influence of a
Saviour's example and command constraining him  to consider,
whether it might not be his own duty, in imitation of his divine Lord:
and Master, to go forth in person, into " the waste howling wilderness"
of sin and death, to seek and to save the lost! The discovery of his
own ruined condition by nature, opened up to his unsealed vision a
new and appalling prospect of the whole world lying in wickedness,




P R  F A T O TRY  N  T   I C E.             13
and exposed to endless miseries here and hereafter. The felt realization of the joy and blessedness of pardon and sanctifying grace to
his own soul, from the Fount itself of redeeming love, inspired him
with new and unwonted motions of sympathy and compassion towards the perishing, as well as new and unwonted desires to be
honoured as the herald to them of the glad tidings of a great salvation. An overpowering sense of grateful loyalty to tHim to whom he
owed his own everlasting life, inspired him with an uncontrollable
longing to do what in him lay, to advance that glorious cause of the
world's evangelization, in the consummation of which alone IIe shall
see of the travail of his soul and be satisfied. Thus it was that, in
him, the first stirring of the missionary spirit was not the impulse
of a mere ordinary philanthropy - not the fitful gleam of a doating
imagination -- not the fond vision of chivalrous romance - not the
sudden movement of excited feeling- not the wild project of adventurous enterprise —not the momentary flash and sparkle of an
ebullient enthusiasm. Oh, no! It was the welling forth of a divine
sentiment of pity and compassion, gratitude and love, from the profoundest depths of a renovated spirit-it was the lighting up of a
radiant and enduring principle of life and energy in a soul, now
struggling in the new pathway of holy duty, to disengage itself
wholly from the smoke and tarnish of a turbid earthly atmosphere.
Still, he was very young and inexperienced, not having yet completed his sixteenth year. On this account, with a judgment preeminently sound, he resolved, in the first instance, to keep his newly'
awakened thoughts and desires to himself, spreading them out before
God only, and seeking for further light from the illumination of the
Holy Spirit, in the reading of Scripture, meditation, and prayer.
A better evidence of perfect calmness and sobriety, coupled with
earnest determination, could scarcely be afforded, than was indicated
by this course of action.  " If," wrote he, even at a later period,
"if my wish to preach the gospel of Christ among the heathen, have
2




14               PREFATORY  NOTICE.
in it aught of the romance of a boyish imagination, a few years'
thought and experience will extinguish its ardour; but if the Lord
has appointed me to declare his name among the Gentiles, and that
wish has been implanted in my breast by the Spirit of God, delays
and disappointments will but foster its growth, and make it yet more
vigorous."  How sagaciously he had thus judged, the result abundantly proved.
After the lapse of a considerable period, devoted to private readings, meditation, and prayer, he resolved in his intense anxiety to
learn his Lord's will in the matter, to seek for light from every available extraneous source, steadfastly watching the leadings of Providence with a filial eye. Conscious of his own liability to err, and
with a diffidence and modesty peculiar to the sincere inquirer after
truth and the path of duty, he was led, among other means of enlightenment, to ask counsel from  friends to whose candour and
practical wisdom he might look with some degree of confidence; not
that such counsel might form a decisive or determining element in
the case, but simply furnish materials for the confirmation or correction of his own immatured judgment. It was to his pastor, Mr.
Orme, that in his letter of February 18th, 1825, he very naturally and properly first unbosomed his mind on the subject, stating
that he had long considered the object of the missionary enterprise,
as "' one of the most important, perhaps, the most important, which
can engage the mind of a Christian;" that, "for some time he had
even seriously thought of devoting his own life to the cause of missions;" that he was " aware of the difficulties to be encountered, and
of the danger of rashly forming a resolution of such importance;"
that " even the desire he had thus expressed was the fruit of much
meditation and prayer;" and that he had "communicated it to Mr.
Orme in order to have the benefit of his advice."
But while he thus sought the counsel of experienced friends, it
was from the Bible that he drew his chief inspiration and guidance;




PRIEFATORY  NOTICE.                         15
praying at the same time, for the illumining influences of the tIoly
Spirit. The substance of his cogitations and conclusions in this
direction he himself supplies. In a letter to a friend, July 8th, 1825,
he remarks as follows:"In connection with this matter, I have been led to consider more
atLentlvely those passages of Scripture which refer to missionary
exertions, and the result has been a deeper impression than ever of
the duty of engaging in this work. It is very true that much has to
be done at home; that there are many here, as my friend Craik
writes, who'can only be considered in the light of more criminal
heathens.' But this is a wilful ignorance; they are not'perishing
from lack of knowledge.' And this argument, if carried to its full
extent, would stifle missionary exertions to the very end of the
world. What would have been the consequence had the apostles
resolved not to leave Jerusalem till every one of their brethren
according to the flesh was truly converted?  The Gentiles would
not have received the glad tidings of salvation to the present hour.
This was not the commandment the apostles received, however; and
accordingly they acted in a very diCerent manner.  They were to
preach the gospel to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.  The
nation of the Jews had a claim upon the first preachers of Christianity which our countrymen'have:not upon us. They were not only
their'brethren according to the flesh,' but they were also God's
chosen nation; and as such it was right that they should enjoy a
pre-eminence over all others, in first receiving the proclamation of
pardon. But how did their brethren, the apostles, act even to this
favoured nation?  They made a full declaration of salvation through
Christ; they made a free tender of the mercy of Jehovah; but by
almost all this mercy was slighted and rejected. By thus sinning
against greater light, these individuals became more criminal even
than the heathen. Did the apostles, therefore, think that they should




16               PREFATORY  NOTI CE.
not go forth to the heathen till all these rejecters of the truth were
convinced of the error of their ways? No; that very rejection of the
gospel by their countrymen was a signal for their departure.' Seeing ye reject,' &c.,' behold, we turn to the Gentiles.' Had the gospel
been proclaimed in like manner to all other nations, the apostles
would have felt it their duty to have laboured assiduously among
their brethren at home. But, while there remained a single nation
on the face of the earth that had not received the knowledge of salvation, they felt that the parting commandment of their Master'was
not yet fully obeyed; and while they lived, they made it their business more and more fully to execute that command. But their missionary spirit died with them; and at the present hour that commandment remains still unobeyed. Is it difficult, in this case, to
see the path of duty? Besides, I cannot see that by preaching at
home we hasten the coming glory of the Church. God has promised
that all shall know him. He has not promised that all shall serve
him. On the contrary, he has said that he will gather his people
out of every nation, kindred, and tongue, and people; which evidently implies that all shall not be his people. Far be it from me to
depreciate the work of the ministry at home. It is a most important
work. But still, while there are any sitting in darkness and the
shadow of death, it must yield in importance to the missionary field.
Besides, who can tell what an effect our neglect of God's commandment to preach to all nations may have in causing him to withhold
his Spirit from the exertions of Christians at home?"
In a subsequent letter he supplements this clear, simple, resistless
scriptural statement, by the following very impressive view:" I still am inclined to think that the publication of the gospel as
a message of mercy to sinners is the grand object for which the
Christian ministry was instituted; at least it is one of the greatest




PREFATORY  NOTICE.                          17
objects. I do think that even the edification of the body of Christ
yields to it in point of importance. We believe that if a sinner once
embraces the gospel he cannot finally fall away; and even if his progress in the divine life should be slow, we know that in a very few
years at the farthest, a full display of the glories of the divine
character must burst upon him. Now, whether is it a more important work to rescue a sinner from hell and place him in this condition
of safety, or to antedate, in a very slight degree, the happiness of a
future state in one who has believed?  For, all our advances in the
knowledge of divine truth here must be held insignificant, when
compared with the immense addition to our knowledge and our happiness, which we shall receive at that time when the dim conceptions
of faith shall be exchanged for the bright realities of actual vision.
I beg that you would not understand me as estimating lightly the
work of grace in the hearts of believers. It is only when contrasted
with the work of regeneration that I would ever think of it as of
secondary importance. But I am not sure that the work of grace
would go on more slowly in the hearts of believers, from the attention
of the pastors being more called to the work of evangelizing the
heathen. I do think in the present day we are apt to trust too much
to public ordinances, and I would almost like to see Christians more
thrown upon the resources of private devotion, and more direct communion with God. Our knowledge of divine things, to be sure, is
small; but, 0 that our piety were but equal to our knowledge!"
As a further means of furnishing  himself with sufficient data to
ensure an intelligent and solidly based resolution, he sought and
obtained, in the autumn of 1825, a personal interview with Mr.
Townley, formerly a missionary in Bengal, and Dr. Morrison, the
celebrated Chinese missionary, then resident in London. To them
he openly expressed the wish he had for some time fostered, to devote
himself, if the Lord willed, to missionary labours. As China, on
9*




18                PREFATORY  NOTICE.
account of its magnitude and their comparative neglect by the
Christian world, presented the strongest claims to his mind, he
looked forward to it as his probable future mission-field.  HIe,
accordingly, attended Dr. Morrison's instructions in Chinese, that
he might gain as much insight into " the mode of studying the language as might enable him, should he wish to pursue it, to do so
alone." And his biographer testifies that the papers he left behind
sufficiently evinced how ardently and successfully he entered into the
study of that difficult language.
Returning with his friend Mr. Adam, who had devoted himself to
the missionary cause, about the end of October, to St. Andrew's, they
both resolved to apply themselves afresh to their general studies, and
to a thorough examination of everything relating to missions.  For
this purpose, they searched the sacred Scriptures, and summed up
their inquiries under the heads of precepts, proqphecies, examples, and
promises. In order to render the investigation the more complete,
they also resolved, at the same time, to collect from other sources,
all the accessible information on the interesting subject.  In this
way they carefully perused Brown's History of Missions, Horne's,
Ward's, Milne's, and Judson's Letters; the lives of Martyn, Brainard,
and Chamberlain; Ward's History of the Hindus, &c., praying more
earnestly than ever for wisdom and direction from above.
It is surely not possible to imagine anything more enlightened or
judicious than the preparatory course of inquiry thus systematically
pursued.  No rashness, flightiness, impulsiveness, flashy enthusiasm,
or ephemeral excitement here! On the contrary, all is characterized
by a singular calmness and sobriety of spirit, comprehensiveness of
aim, and persevering steadfastness of purpose, the clear indications
of a simple, earnest, honest, conscientious desire to ascertain the
divinely prescribed path of duty.
And what was the result? A growing conviction of the paramount claims of the heathen field, and of the duty of personal en



PR  EFATORY  NOTICE.                          19
gagement in the missionary cause. Accordingly, as he had been
led to give the first intimation of his long cherished desire on the
subject to his friend Mr. Orme, so, on the 10th of March, 1826, he
deemed it proper to convey to him the first announcement of his.final decision.  In that admirable communication, he tells how Mr.
Adam and himself had made the subject of missions a matter of
daily consideration throughout the session, reading nearly all the
principal works relating to it; how he had thus obtained much
sounder views of the matter than before; how the brilliant colouring
of romance, if it previously existed in any degree, had faded from
the picture, only leaving its outlines more strongly and broadly
marked than before; how he was distressed by the prospect of those
temptations before which so many of the missionary agents had
fallen, and yet, how he felt encouraged to trust in God who could
enable him to stand in the midst of all temptations; how he saw
more clearly than ever that unwavering faith in God's promises and
closeness of communion with him, were among the many requisites
in the character of the missionary; how, the further he proceeded in
his inquiries, he was impressed more deeply than ever with the duty
of engaging in this department of the ministerial work; and how,
as the result of the whole, " after deliberately viewing all sides of the
question, and candidly comp]aring the claims of our home 1poltlndation
and the heathen wcorld, and earnyestly seeking for direction from t im
who has promised to be the gutide of his peolle even qluto deatl/, lhe had
come to the final resolution of devoting himself to the service of God
angon/ t7he 7healthen."
Ilis first _pnblic announcement of this final resolution was made,
about the same time, towards the close of his concluding address to
the members of the St. Andrew's University Missionary Society.
It was in these terms: "The matter" (of personal engagement)
"some time ago presented itself very forcibly to my own mind, and
I felt that it at least demanded my serious consideration.  As I have




20               PE F ATORY  NOTICE..
proceeded with my inquiries on the subject, the difficulties seemed
to have gathered tlicker on the prospect, but the convictions of duty
have grown stronger too. The arguments for personal engagement
seem to me to have acquired the streigtfh  of a demonstration.  I
have, therefore, resolved, with the help of God, to devote my life to
the cause; and I have only solemnly to charge every one of you who
are looking forward to the ministry of Christ, to take this matter
into most serious consideration."
The writer of these remarks happened to be present when these
sentences were uttered, and he can testify to the deep and solemn
impression which they produced. It was not that they displayed
aught of the artistic in style, the fiscinating in rhetoric, or the
brilliant in oratory.  Ah, no.  In themselves, the words were
abundantly simple, artless, and unendowed. But there was, notwithstanding, a spell-like charm in them which at once reached the
heart and caused it to vibrate to the innermost core. The address
was on the subject of "personal engagement in the work of missions."  The preacher commenced with a somewhat abrupt and
hurried  intimation which  instantaneously aroused and arrested
general attention. As he advanced, step by step, every statement
seemed so clear and strong in common sense-every illustration, so
apt and telling- every address to the head and heart, so backed and
fenced round and round by scriptural authority -and all, so firmly
clenched by that consummating announcement, which proved beyond
the possibility of cavil or debate, that the earnest advocate was no
mere special pleader who strove to influence others by appeals which
had failed in practically convincing himself-that the cumulative
argument seemed to bear down on the sincere and candid mind with
a force all but resistless.  And then, there was something so touching, so melting even, in that youthful expression of countenance,
when lighted up with the kindliness of an unearthly sanctity - something so piercingly persuasive in those suffused eyes, when glow



PREFATORY  NOTICE.                          21
ing with the fire of wistful longing and fervent entreaty - something
so soul-thrilling in that naturally sweet, soft, mellow, silvery voice,
wlinn quivering with the pathos of out-gushing emotion from a surch:iorged heart, -that the combined effect of the whole might well
be said to have been overwhelming. For a moment, it appeared as
if all present were ready to rise up and march forth as a united
phalanx into the battle-field; and few there were who did not then
at least resolve to submit the subject to an examination with which
it had never been honoured before; while of some, it can be added
that they did not pause till they found themselves across oceans
and continents, in front of the bristling hosts and frowning citadels
of heathenism.
When his long and sore soul-travail had thus fairly brought his
final resolution to the birth, one would have thought that it would
have been joyously hailed, with general acclaim, by the friends of
Jesus. But, no. Already, while merely prosecuting his earnest
researches on the subject, he had met with not a little discouragement on the part of those from whom he had good reason to anticipate a different reception. And now, the formal announcement of
his final decision seemed only to be the signal for an onset of more
positive and determined opposition. But, it was not to be expected
that a resolution which had been the deliberate result of so miich
patient, pains-taking conscientious inquiry -accompanied with so
much fervent prayer and devout waiting upon God - could be easily
shaken. It was not like Jonah's gourd, the growth of a day, destined
to wither, before the first attack of an insect foe, in the morning of
a summer's day.  It rather resembled the monarch oak, which, slow
in growth, gradually attains to a robustness of strength, that enables
it not only to defy, but acquire increased tenacity of root and texture
from every assailing tempest.  The result abundantly proved that
every antagonistic argument and appeal only recoiled on their
authors, with a quicker and yet more vehement rebound, - thus




22               PREFATORY  NOTICE.
furnishing fresh and incontestable evidence of the massive solidity -
the adamantine firmness of the basis on which the resolution had
been founded.
It is, therefore, with feelings of deepest pain, on account of his
friendly but misjudging opponents, and intensest admiration of the
heavenly-mirnded youth —in whom  sage-like wisdom  seemed so
rarely blended with childlike simplicity, and the tenderest sensibilities intertwined with the stern, heroic, martyr-like spirit —that
we find so many entries like the following, in his subsequent journals
and letters: " lie" (a venerated professor whom he greatly esteemed
and loved) " tries to persuade me to stay in this country, but I do not
think his arguments powerful."  "I have been in Glasgow twice. I
met Mr. Erskine there as well as Mr. Ewing," (colleague of Dr.
Wardlaw in the Theological Seminary), &c. "All are against my
being a missionary, but I have heard no arguments against it that
seem to me at all conclusive." " Have you been thinking more of
missions?  I find every body dissuades and discourages me, urging
the great wants of our own country. I think I feel the claims of
our own land as strongly as some who urge them against my plans.
But still this does not prevent me from feeling the immense argumentative force of the simple fact, that nothing has yet been done
for heathen nations, proportioned to their vast extent; and nothing
to fulfil the wide command of our Lord." "I have been partly
terrified out of the idea of attempting publication, from the decided
opposition our sentiments on this subject have met with, when I
have laid them before those whom I have, from infancy, looked up
to as men mighty in the Scriptures.  Do not mistake me: my own
convictions are by no means weakened. Every prayer deepens their
impression. And at times of closer communion with God, a brighter
light seems to be shed on the path before me. My own conscience
must be my guide."  "On the subject of missions every prayer
strengthens my purpose. I am  aware of tie glare of romance,




PREFATORY  NOTICE.                       23
which fancy may throw round the idea of Christian expeditions to
foreign lands; but I have tried to make due allowance for this; I
have prayed that a youthful imagination might not lead me astray.
The result is, I am every day more and more convinced that my
convictions on this matter are founded in Scripture."  "On consulting my friends" (parents and others, when on a visit to Perth)
"I was astonished to find them even more opposed than before.
There seemed to be even some disappointment that I had not by this
time, abandoned the idea of being a missionary altogether. HIad the
impulse on my mind been a mere boyish fancy, in all probability
this would have been the case, exposed as I have been to influences
altogether unfavourable. But I trust there is no enthusiasm in supposing that the impression has been made by the Spirit of God, when
time, and meditation, and prayer make it deeper and deeper. Still,
my relations are quite against my views."
In connection with this determined and continued opposition which
he had to encounter, to the very last, from Professors, ministers,
relatives and acquaintances, Mr. Orme endeavours to present a plea,
partly apologetic, and partly explanatory.
One of the dissuasive arguments frequently adduced — rather a
favourite one with fond parents and doating friends- was, the
alleged weakness and delicacy of his constitution. But apart from
the grand fact, that all are in the hands of a gracious and sovereign God, who can preserve the weak, though exposed to the greatest
peril, and strike down the strong, though placed in circumstances
the most advantageous, Urquhart was persuaded of the soundness
of the opinion of the physician whom he had consulted, coinciding
as it did with that of the most experienced on the subject: " That no
physician could predict how any particular constitution would suit a
hot climate; and that, in general, persons of a thin, spare habit,"
(like his own), "were more likely to stand than those who were
stouter.'"




24               PRItEFATORY  NOTICE.
Another of the redoubtable and stereotyped arguments with which
he was constantly plied — the favourite one with Theological Professors and home pastors, who yet, at times, can eloquently declaini
on the awful spiritual necessities of the heathen, and the glory and
grandeur of the missionary enterprise - was, the urgent claims of
home; implying, that he possessed some special fitness, from the
peculiarity of his tastes and talents, for home work. Now, the real
fact was, as stated repeatedly by himself, that he was led, in the
very consideration of the missionary question, to regard more attentively the state of his own country as to religious knowledge. And
no one can carefully and candidly read the many communications in
which the subject is discussed by him, without perceiving how thoroughly he had examined, and how intelligently he had appreciated
the claims of home; yea, how diligently he had laboured, as time
and opportunity were afforded, in supplying the wants of home, by
teaching Sabbath-schools, collecting young men around him, holding
prayer meetings with the poor, visiting from house to house, distributing tracts; and yet, how vastly, in the case of one like himself,
who simply strove to learn where the Lord's cause had mzost need of
his personal services, the claims of the heathen were felt to preponderate.
But a truce to all such objections! From whatever quarter they
proceed, they are of "the earth, earthy." Professors of religion,
indolently and sinfully suffer themselves, for the most part, to be so
entrenched in antecedent prejudices, preferences, and predilections,
that their minds can very seldom  indeed fairly look the subject in
the face. Nay, more! The real truth is, that the teeming brood of
ordinary objections will be found to spring from a deeper source
than any that appears on the surface, or any that is usually avowed.
The saddening and discreditable fact ought not to be glozed over or
disguised, from the cowardly fear of offending man -however lofty
in talent, station, or influence; or however endeared by ties of earthly




PREFATORY  NOTICE.                        25relationship-that there is, in the minds even of most of the
friends and supporters of missions, a thoroughly inadequate apprehension of two most vital gospel requirements: - First, a thoroughly
inadequate apprehension of the real nature and extent of the selfsacr fice, which the gospel demands of all true believers; though such
self-sacrifice be not a super-eminent grace, expected to belong only
to a chosen few of transcendent piety, but one of the primary constituent elements of the Christian character —the destitution of
which would argue not so much weakness of faith, as the non-existence of genuine faith altogether: —and secondly, as thoroughly
inadequate an apprehension of the real nature and magnitude of the
missionary enterprise, and of the peculiar claims of heathen nations,
viewed in the light of Scripture prophecy and divine commands, as
compared with those which, for ages, have enjoyed the blessed dispensation of the gospel. Hence it is, that, too often, even pious professors and ministers would begrudge young men, that are rarely
gifted by nature and grace, to the heathen world; as if the conduct
of a great war in the territory of a powerful foe demanded less
talent, genius, or energy, than the commandership of a peaceful garrison in one's native land; or, as if the procedure which God himself
exemplified in separating Paul and Barnabas, the mightiest of
apostles and apostolic men, from the great and flourishing Church
of Antioch, to become his ambassadors to the realms of heathenism,
constituted no precedent, and challenged no imitation! And hence,
also, it is, that, too often, even godly parents would begrudge a
beloved son to the glorious work of proclaiming the unsearchable
riches of Christ among the Gentiles; as if he were their own, and not
His, whose claims, as Creator, Preserver, and Redeemer, are altogether paramount; or, as if the divine declaration, "that God so
loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever
believeth on him should not perish, but have everlasting life," constituted no example, and imposed no practical obligation I
3




26               PREFATORY NOTICE.
How far the painful and harassing course of dissuasion and resist,
ance, so obstinately and unyieldingly persisted in by parents,
acquaintances, and friends, may have acted on Urquhart's keenly
sensitive nature, so as injuriously to affect his bodily health and
help to precipitate a fatal issue, it were vain for us now to surmise.
On this extremely delicate point, every reader of the narrative must
be left to judge for himself. One thing is certain, that, up to the
very last, his own mind remained firm and unshaken as the iron
rocks amid the ceaseless buffetings of old ocean. The last entry
in his journal, referring to the commencement of the attack which
soon terminated his earthly career, very touchingly shows, as his
biographer has well remarked, how the ruling passion - his devoted
attachment to personal service in the missionary cause - appeared
strong in death. After recording the doctor's professional verdict,
he remarks: "This has distressed me a good deal, as it may unfit
me for the East; which I have long contemplated as the scene of my
Zabours. But the Lord knows what is best."
Verily, the good and the gracious Lord did know what was best;
and He now began visibly to take the whole matter into his own
hands. He who knows the heart, well knew how sincerely and
devoutly it was in the heart of the youthful Urquhart personally to
labour in the distant fields of heathen evangelism. And, doubtless,
the approving sentence, that it was good to have cherished such a
purpose in his heart, has been duly registered in the book of the
Divine remembrance. But, as endless obstacles were interposed in
his way, by parents and friends on earth, the Lord was pleased, in
his sovereignty, to decide the question, by taking him to himself!
They would not consent to his serving his divine Master in foreign
climes below; and so, he transferred him to a nobler service in the
climes above! They would not consent to his leaving home and
fatherland, on an embassy of mercy to perishing millions; and so,
in loving-kindness to him and in rebuke to them, the Lord ordained




PREFATORY NOTICE.                           27
that what they would not willingly suffer him to attempt by his life,
he would honour and enable him to accomplish more effectually by
his early death!  It is known that, already, the perusal of this
memoir has been sanctified as the means of quickening the desire of
some, and confirming the timid resolve of others, to go forth as the
heralds of salvation to the unevangelized tribes of earth.  These,
then, may truly be regarded as his substitutes and representatives
in the heathen world, which he had so longed to visit and help to save.
And souls rescued by their instrumentality from the bondage of sin
and Satan, may yet hail him in the realms of everlasting day, as, in
an important sense, their honoured spiritual progenitor.
Recommending, therefore, this volume, with all earnestness, to the
members, and especially the juvenile members, of the evangelic
churches of America, my fervent prayer is, that the lessons which it
is so well fitted to teach, may not be lost on old or young, - that the
perusal of it may, under God, be blessed to the stimulating of their
souls to holier and more self-denying endeavours for the advancement of Christ's cause and kingdom in the world -that the mantle
of the saintly, devoted, and now glorified Urquhart may fall on not
a few youthful, ardent disciples, who, imbued with a double portion
of his spirit, may be privileged to rear the standard of the cross
over many a hitherto unconquered province of Satan's empire.
ALEXANDER DUFF.
MARCH, 1855.








PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
BY THE REV. WM. ORME.
I HAD scarcely received the intimation, alike unexpected and distressing, of the death of my beloved young friend, when I was importunately solicited to give some account of him to the world. The
reasons for making this application to me, will be sufficiently apparent
to the reader of the volume, so that no explanation on that point is
required in this place. Prompted at once by my love for the individual, and by a sense of duty to God, whose grace and goodness
were eminently illustrated, I assented to the request, before I knew
what it would involve. I had then no correct idea of the nature of
the materials which existed, and supposed that a very small number
of pages might include all that I could furnish of sufficient interest.
No sooner, however, was my purpose made known, than, besides
the papers left by himself, which were more numerous and valuable
than I had supposed, his friends and fellow-students poured in upon
me such a number of letters and communications, that I have found
great difficulty in keeping my selection even within the bounds to
which the work has finally extended.
The individuals who have thus supplied some of the most valuable
parts of the volume, and have contended who should bear the most
decided testimony to the character and talents of him whom " they
admired when living, and adored when lost," though occasionally
mentioned, in connection with the correspondence, will, I am sure,
experience some gratification, in having their names more distinctly
connected with this memorial of their departed friend. It is due
from me to say, that without their aid, I must have failed in doing
justice to his character and history. It is due from the readers of
this volume, if they shall experience any gratification from those
letters, which, I consider, to be no less beautiful as compositions,
3*                                      (29)




38                       PREFACE.
than they are admirable in sentiment. And it is especially due to
that sacred and Christian friendship, which subsisted between them
and him who has gone to receive an early, but a full reward. I
earnestly pray, that the band of youthful spirits, united at St.
Andrew's, may, "when the dispersed of Israel are gathered into
one," be again united, to rejoice together in the fruits of their sacred
association.
The following are entitled to an honourable place in this statement:
— Mr. John Adam of Homerton, between whom and the deceased
there was a solemn agreement to labour together among the heathen,
should Providence permit.  Mr. Alexander Duff, still, I believe,
a student, the earliest friend of John, at the University. Mr. William
Alexander, his latest companion while there, and who is still prosecuting his studies with a view to the Christian ministry. Mr. Henry
Craik, now at Exeter, between whom and John, a most powerful
attachment appears to have subsisted, which rendered his death
almost.overwhelming. Mr. William Tait, son of the Rev. William
Tait, of the College Church, Edinburgh. Mr. William  Scott Moncrieff, of Edinburgh; Mr. Herbert Smith, of Egham, Surrey; Mr.
James Lewis, Mr. Alexander Reid, and Mr. Robert Trail.
To other individuals, besides these, I have also been indebted for
some valuable contributions; but whose names, I could not, with
propriety, mention.  They will accept of my affectionate acknowledgments for the readiness with which they allowed me the use of
the letters which I have published.
Besides those testimonies, which I have used throughout the work,
both to support my own opinion of the talents and character of the
deceased, and to illustrate the points of view in which they were
contemplated by others, there is one, which is entitled to a distinguished place in this memorial. Knowing that John had been a
favourite pupil of Dr. Chalmers; and that, between the Doctor and
him, a very intimate friendship had obtained, before I did anything
myself, I wrote to Dr. Chalmers to inquire if he could undertake
the office of biographer, and offering him, in that case, all the information and documents I possessed. In answer to this, I received
the following letter, which confers a high value on the work that
contains it, and shows the estimate which was formed of this admirable youth, by one of the most eminent men of the age.




PR EFACE.                          31
"ST. ANDREW'S, Feb. 12th, 1827.
"My Dear Sir-I received your letter some days ago, but have
been prevented, by various engagements, from replying to it so soon
as I could have wished.
" I had been previously applied to, from another quarter, for a
Memoir of John Urquhart; and felt myself obliged to decline, in
consequence of other engagements. I have less difficulty in pleading
the same apology to you; for your superior opportunities, and earlier
acquaintance with him, point you out as the person on whom the
task is most properly devolved.
"' IIe is altogether worthy of the biographical notice which you
purpose. My first knowledge of him, was as a student, in which
capacity, he far outpeered all his fellows; and in a class of uncommon force, and brilliancy of talent, shone forth as a star of the first
magnitude.
"I do not recollect the subjects of his various essays; but the
very first which he read in the hearing of myself, and of his fellowstudents, placed him at the head of the class in point of estimation:
a station, which he supported throughout, and which was fully
authenticated at the last, by the highest prize being assigned to him
for those anonymous compositions, which are submitted to my own
judgment, and among which, I decide the relative, and respective
merits, without any knowledge of their authors.
"For several months, I only recognised him as a person of fine
taste, and lofty intellect; which, teeming forth, as they did from one
who had not yet terminated his boyhood, gave the indication, and
the promise, of something quite superlative in future life. It was
not till after I had, for a time, admired his capacities for science,
that I knew him as the object of a far higher admiration, for his
deep and devoted sacredness.
"It.was in the second session of my acquaintance with him, that
I devolved upon him the care of a Sabbath-school, which I had
formed. In the conduct of this little seminary, he displayed a tact,
and a talent, which were quite admirable, and I felt myself far outrun by him, in the power of kind and impressive communication;
and in that faculty, by which he commanded the interest of the
pupils, and could gain, at all times, the entire sympathy of their
understanding. Indeed, all his endowments, whether of the head or




32                       PREFACE.
of the heart, were in the best possible keeping. For example, he
was alike literary and mathematical, and combined the utmost
beauty of composition, with the rigour and precision of the exact
sciences. But his crowning excellence was his piety; that virtue,
which matured him so early for heaven, and bore him in triumph
from that earth on which he hath so briefly sojourned. This religious
spirit gave a certain ethereal hue to all his college exhibitions. Ho
had the amplitude of genius, but none of its irregularities.  There
was no shooting forth of mind in one direction, so as to give a prominency to certain acquisitions, by which to overshadow, or to leave
behind, the other acquisitions, of his educational course.  He was
neither a mere geometer, nor a mere linguist, nor a mere metaphysician; he was all put together; alike distinguished by the fulness, and the harmony of his powers.
" I leave to you, sir, the narrative of his higher characteristics. I
have spoken, and fully spoken, of the attainments of his philosophy;
to you it belongs, to speak of the sublimer attainments of his faith.
"Had I needed aught to reconcile me to the transition which I
have made, from the state of a pastor to that of a professor, it would
just be the successive presentation, year after year, of such students
as John Urquhart; nor, in giving up the direct work of a Christian
minister, can I regret the station to which Providence has translated me, at one of the fountain heads of the Christian ministry in
our land.
" Yours, very truly,
" THIOMAS CHALMERS."




MEMOIR
OF
J O H N U R Q U HI ART.
CHAPTER I.
Introductory observations - John's birth, and early education -
John sent to the Grammar School of Perth - Mr. Duff's account
of him while there.
BIOGRAPHY is not dependent for its usefulness on the
length of an individual's life, or on the station which he
occupies in society.  Were this the case, the longest
livers, or the most dignified personages would constitute
the chief subjects of this species of writing. But so far
is this from being the fact, that the great body of those
who live to advanced years, and occupy the high places
of the earth, pass out of it with little more than an antediluvian notice, -" They lived, begat sons and daughters,
and died."
Such a record is all that the vast majority of these persons deserve. They live for time, and they live for themselves.  In their characters none of the elements of an
enlarged and immortal benevolence exist. To the present
state of being, all their views and wishes are limited,
and with the objects which minister to their own gratification, they are almost entirely engrossed.  When they
have finished their day, therefore, they have obtained,
(33)




84      MIEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHAR1T.
such as it is, their reward. As while they lived, the world
was nothing to them, except as it conferred enjoyment;
so when they die, they are nothing to the world, which in
their death has sustained no loss. The blanks which such
deaths occasion are quickly filled up. The candidates for
the pleasures and honours of the earth are innumerable:
and they are generally too busy in attending to themselves,
to think much of their predecessors, or to derive either
warning or improvement from their fate.
It is admitted that the lives of such persons will frequently supply a large portion of what is called incident,
which is too generally regarded as the principal charm of
biography. In proportion to the number of extraordinary
events, unlooked-for occurrences, and strange combinations, is supposed to be the value of the memoirs or the
life; while all the while the events illustrate no principle,
develop no specific class of causes, and furnish little or
no instruction to the reader. They appear as if they were
stuck upon the subject, instead of growing out of his character, and might, for anything we can see, as well belong to
a hundred other persons, as to the hero of the story.
The life of the most interesting person whom this world
has produced, whose actions were entirely directed to the
affairs of the world, and whose training had little bearing
on the enjoyment and occupations of a better state, must
be of less importance than the life of the least individual
in the kingdom of heaven. In the former case, the results,
as far as the person himself is concerned, terminate with
time; in the latter, they embrace eternity.  Here the
germs of an immortal existence are planted; here the roots
are struck, of that tree of life which is destined to fill the
celestial paradise with its sweetest and most fragrant fruits;




MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUHART.                 35
here the first elements of the heavenly sciences are learned;
and here commence those dispositions and habits which
shall grow to perfection in the courts of the Lord.
The writer of the following pages has no romantic tale
to tell; but he regards it as one of some interest, or he
would not tell it.  It will be found to contain nothing
of the poetry or fiction of religion, which are so eagerly
sought by the sickly sentimentalists of the age. It records
none of those splendid acts of religious heroism, the external glory of which the men of the world are sometimes
disposed to admire, while they hate the principles which
produce them.  His aim is to present a faithful, though
he is conscious it is only an imperfect, portrait, of one
dear to himself by many recollections; whose mind was
cast in one of nature's finest moulds, and highly polished,
not by art and man's device only,%but by the Spirit of the
living God; whose character rose to maturity more rapidly
than that of any individual he ever knew, and who lived
as much in a short time, as most who have been hon
oured to adorn the doctrine of the Redeemer. Should the
simple story of his short pilgrimage enforce on the minds
of his youthful associates, the importance of cultivating
his virtues and following his example; and lead others to
examine the nature of that religion which was the object
of such devotion to a mind of no ordinary vigour and
acuteness, great will be the reward.   In that case, it
may at last appear that John Urquhart lived not in vain;
and that the time spent in recording his history has not
been unprofitably employed.
The subject of these memoirs was born in the town of
Perth, on the seventh of June, 1808. As his parents are




36      MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URtQUHART.
both alive, it would be indecorous to say much more than
that, professing the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, they
felt the importance of devoting their offspring to him, and
of bringing them up in the nurture and admonition of the
Lord. To his mother in particular he was indebted for
his earliest ideas and impressions; and of her tenderness
and attention to him, he retained, as will afterwards
appear from his letters, the liveliest and most grateful
recollections.
From the extraordinary quickness and precocity which
distinguished him, more than usual encouragement must
have been presented to instil into his mind the elements
of knowledge and religion; and I have reason to believe
that advantage was duly taken of his docile and inquisitive disposition, to direct his attention to the most interesting of all subjects. It is not often that we can trace
the impressions of childhood in the future habits and
character of the man. They are made during a period in
which the mind is inattentive to its own operations, and
unconscious of the nature of the process which it is undergoing. The effects remain after the cause which produced
them is forgotten. The writing upon the heart often becomes legible, only when the hand which traced it is
mouldering in the dust; and the prayers which have been
frequently breathed over the cradle of infancy, sometimes
do not appear to have been heard, till after prayer has
been exchanged for praise. These considerations, as well
as the appropriate promises of the word of God, ought to
induce Christian parents to commence their work of instruction with the first dawn of intelligence, and not to be
dispirited because they do not soon reap a visible harvest
of success. To this, as to other departments of service,




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.                 387
the language of inspiration is applicable: "In the morning, sow thy seed, and in the evening, withhold not thy
hand: for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either
this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good."
At five years of age he went to school, and, from having
a remarkably sweet and melodious voice, soon became an
object of interest as one of the finest readers among his
juvenile associates. Shortly after, also, he was sent to a
Sabbath evening-school, there to receive instruction of a
more strictly religious nature than can be communicated in
the seminaries of every day instruction. At this school he
remained, I believe, with occasional interruptions, till a
short time before he went to the University.
-My young fiiend was indebted to Sabbath-school instruction, in a degree which cannot be fully ascertained or
known in this world. There his mind was richly stored
with divine truth, the full benefit of which did not appear
at the time, but afterwards, in the rapidity with which he
grew in knowledge after he felt the full power of the gospel. There those principles were implanted and strengthened, which tended to preserve him when he was exposed,
an unguarded boy, to the imminent temptations of a University. There those moral feelings were first touched,
which, in due time, arrived at that degree of sensitiveness,
as to be incapable Of bearing what was evil, and of relishing, in the most exquisite manner, all that was lovely,
and pure, and excellent.
From the English school, he passed, in his' ninth year,
into the Grammar school, then conducted by a respectable
scholar, Mr. Dick, under whose care, and that of his successor, Mr. Moncur, he remained four years. I have little
to remark during this period of his life; but that he made
4




38       MEMOIR  OF JOITN  URQUHART.
distinguished progress in acquaintance with the classics is
evident from the prizes which he obtained, and from the
appearance, which he made when he first entered St. Andrew's, of which notice will afterwards be taken.
I am not aware of all the prizes which he gained during
the time of his attending the Grammar school; but, in
1820, he obtained the second prize at the fourth class;
and in the following year, the last of his attendance, the
second prize at the first class.
When it is remembered, that he was only thirteen years
of age when he left school, it will not appear surprising,
notwithstanding his future eminence, that I have nothing
of sufficient importance to mention during this period of
his life. He was remarkably lively and good tempered,
when a boy; and enjoyed, I believe, the general good-will
and affection of his school-fellows. As he acquired everything with great facility, study was in general no labour to
him.  But during the last part of his attendance on Mr.
Moncur's classes, he was very diligent; as he frequently
rose at four or five o'clock in the morning, to prepare the
lesson for the day. I forget how many books of Virgil he
professed, besides other things, at the last examination;
but I know the number was considerable.  Though the
ardour, or rather enthusiasm, of Mr. Moncur, in inspiring
his pupils with the loftiest ambition of classical eminence,
was extraordinary, and the effects of it, on the students,
wonderful, John acquitted himself so well, that he carried
off the second prize. The best account I can give of his
progress, and of the esteem in which he was held by those
who knew him, at this time, has been furnished me by his
intimate friend, Mr. Alexander Duff, who was his associate
in study for several years, in Perth, and during all the




MEMOIR  OF JOHIN  URQUHART.                39
time he spent at St. Andrew's.  It confirms my own statenient, which was written previously to receiving it. IHe
writes me as follows: -
" I first became acquainted with John Urquhart in the
year 1820, at the Grammar school of Perth. Early in the
year 1821, I entered into habits of the most intimate
friendship with him, and scarcely a day passed without
our being in each other's company for several hours, till
the vacation of the school in the end of July.  We generally prepared our lessons together; and thus, I had full
opportunity of marking the dawn of that intellectual superiority which he afterwards exhibited. With almost intuitive perception could he discern the truth of many a
proposition, which, to an ordinary mind, is the result of
painful and laborious investigation. And finely could he
discriminate between the truth and falsehood of many a
statement which was embellished with all the alluring
drapery of a poet's fancy.  With singular acuteness could
he estimate the real weight and value of an argument: and
with an ease and readiness, far beyond ordinary, could he
unravel the intricacies and discover the true meaning of
a difficult and disputed passage in the classics. The ingenuity of some of his conjectures regarding the import
of a sentence, and the derivation of certain words, was,
I distinctly remember, highly applauded by his teacher.
With a mind thus richly endowed by nature, he prosecuted his classical studies with the greatest fervour and
perseverance; and though far inferior to the majority of
his class-fellows in years, he uniformly appeared among
the foremost in the race of distinction. During the summer of 1821, he was singularly active. For the most part,




40      MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.
he rose every morning between three and four o'clock, and
directly issued forth to enjoy its sweets. And should you,
at any time, during the course of the morning, cast your
eyes along that beautiful extensive green, the North Inch
of Perth, you could not fail to observe, in the distance,
this interesting youth moving along the surface like a
shadow wholly unbound to it; sometimes in the attitude
of deepest meditation, and sometimes perusing the strains
of the Mantuan bard, which afforded him peculiar pleasure.
Some of the fruits of these early perambulations, when
most of his school-mates were enjoying the slumbers of
repose, appeared in his having committed entirely to
memory, four of the largest books of the YEneid. He was
highly esteemed by all who attended the school. For,
while his superior intellectual attainments commanded
their admiration, that amiable simplicity and guileless innocence, which formed such predominating features in his
character, necessarily commanded their love. You never
heard him utter a harsh or unbecoming expression; you
never saw him break forth into violent passion; you never
had to reprove him for associating with bad companions,
nor for engaging in improper amusements.  In every
innocent pastime for promoting the health, in every playful expedient for whetting the mental powers, none more
active than he: but in all the little brawls and turmoils
that usually agitate youthful associations, there was one
whom you might safely reckon upon not having any share.
And yet, with all his talents, and amiableness, and simplicity, I cannot venture positively to affirm, that there
appeared, at that time, anything like a decided appearance
of vital Christianity in the heart. One thing I can affirm,
that, in our daily and long-continued conversations, reli



MEMOIR OF JOI-IN URQUHARIT.                 41
gious topics did not form  a considerable, or rather, any
part of them. The love of what was good, and abhorrence
of what was evil, had been so habitually inculcated from
childhood, that the cherishing of these feelings might seem
to have acquired the strength of a constitutional tendency;
and the abandonment of them would have been like the
violent breaking up of an established habit; still at this
very time, the hand of God might have been silently,
though efficaciously working. It is not for us to decide
on those secret things that belong to the Lord. But, at
whatever period the life of faith truly commenced, I believe it to be the fact, that his progress in it was so
gradual and imperceptible as to elude observation."
Being still too young to be trusted alone at a University,
and at a distance from his father's house, it became a
question, how to dispose of his time for at least a year
longer. After consulting with other friends and myself,
his father determined on sending him to the Perth Academy
for one session. Here, under the instruction of Mr. Adam
Anderson,* a gentleman well known for his high scientific attainments, and Mr. Forbes,t now the successor of
the Rev. Dr. Gordon, in Hope Park Chapel, Edinburgh,
he prosecuted those studies in the mathematics, in natural
philosophy, chemistry, alod other branches which have
been long and successfully taught at that respectable seminary. He received, at the end of the session, the first prize
* Late Professor of Natural Philosophy, in the University of St.
Andrew's.
t Now Rev. Dr. Forbes, oe of the ministers of the Free Church,
Glasgow.
4*




42       MEMOIR OF JOHIIN URQUHIART
in the second class; and another prize for the best constructed maps.
This last circumstance induces me to mention that there'was great neatness in everything which was done by my
young friend. He possessed the love of order and elegance in a very remarkable degree. It appeared in the
arrangement of his little library, in the keeping of all his
things, in attention to his person; and, in short, in all
that was capable of evincing the possession of a mind
perspicacious, well balanced, and sensitively alive to
everything ridiculous or offensive.
Hitherto no serious impressions on his mind had become
apparent.  That he was not altogether without them,
appears from references made to this period of his history
at a future time. His constant association with religious
people, the preaching of the gospel which he regularly
attended, in connection with his peculiarly impressible
mind, must have subjected him to occasional convictions,
which, though not permanent, prepared him in a measure
for the deep impressions which were afterwards made upon
him.  The death of Mr. Moncur, the master of the Grammar school, under exceedingly painful circumstances, appears also to have deeply affected him. But the time had
not yet come, when the full view of his own character, and
of the grace and power of the gospel, were to be experienced.
Few persons have been placed in the same circumstances
with young Urquhart, without feeling certain religious
emotions; though, alas, in a vast majority, those feelings
are subsequently entirely erased, or only remain in a very
faint and inefficient remembrance. Association with the
world; the pursuits of business or pleasure; or, what the




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.               43
Scriptures admirably denominate, " The lust of the flesh,
the lust of the eye, and the pride of life," cause many a
fair "blossom to go up as dust," and destroy hopes of the
most flattering nature. But when it pleases God to cause
these early convictions to take root, and ripen, the future
life of the individual is often remarkably blessed. His
earliest and best years are devoted to the enjoyment and
service of Christ; if cut off soon, it must be matter of rejoicing that his youth was given to God; if spared long,
he has the delightful privilege of obtaining a full reward.




44        MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART.
CHAPTER II.
Difficulties in determining his profession -He is sent to the University of St. Andrew's -Letter to his father, giving an account
of his gaining the first bursary -Letter to his mother - His success at the end of the first session - Mr. Duff's observations on his
conduct at this time -Return to St. Andrew's - Letter, giving an
account of his early impressions, and change of mind - Remarks
on this subject - His views of Christian fellowship - Success at
the end of his second session.
THE period had now come when it was necessary to determine the future career of this interesting boy. Various
objects presented themselves to the minds of his anxious
parents. They thought of the professions of the law, and
of medicine, and perhaps of another profession also, though
they feared to avow it, especially to himself.  It is not
improbable that his own mind was directed to the ministry; but as he had given no decided indications of piety,
neither his father nor myself encouraged him to think of
it.  Convinced of the deep injury done to religion, by the
education of men for the ministry, who afford no evidence
that they themselves know the truth as it is in Jesus, I
consider the encouragement of such persons, the greatest
wrong which can be done to their own souls, and to the
Church of Christ. In some instances, it is true, the salvation of the gospel is afterwards received by them; in
numerous instances it is altogether and finally rejected,
although the most solemn obligations are submitted to, to
preach it; and in many cases there is reason to fear, a




MEMOIR  OF JOr N  oURQUHART.             45
cold orthodoxy is all that is ever attained. Under the
influence of these causes, Christianity has sustained more
injury than from all other things. The ruin of any church
may be dated from the time that it commences the training of men avowedly for the ministry, from their infancy.
This is a different matter from a Christian parent, devoting, in his own mind, to the work of God, a promising
youth, provided he shall become a partaker of divine grace.
In that case, it will be his duty to give him such an education as his circumstances admit, and which may eventually
further the object of his wishes. Such were the views
with which I tendered my advice to the elder Mr. Urquhart, respecting the education and prospects of his son.
I was powerfully convinced, that, should it please God to
call him to the knowledge of himself, he had all the elements of an accomplished and attractive preacher. He
had a fine voice, a pleasing address and appearance, besides being remarkably fond of knowledge, and diligent in
its pursuit. To himself I said nothing; but I pointed out
these things to his father, and convinced him of the importance of giving his son such an education, as might suit
any of the professions in which the knowledge of literature
is required. To everything except study, he always manifested great reluctance or aversion; so that' the path of
duty to send him to St. Andrew's became at length clear.
The high satisfaction which this afforded to John was
very evident. The buoyancy and vivacity of youth, no
doubt, appeared, in the prospect of going to a new scene,
especially as that scene was a University. But he was to
be placed among those to whom he was almost an entire
stranger, to be separated from his own family, X hich he
had never before left, except for a few days together, and




46       MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUIART.
to be made, in a great measure, his own master. These
considerations could not fail to make on his delicate mind,
some painful impression.
His parents, too, could not but feel the risk to which
they were exposed, though he had hitherto conducted himself with much propriety and success. IIe possessed a
large portion of good sense for his years. He was exceedingly steady and persevering in all his habits; and was
ardently set on rising to eminence in some honourable
department of life. But he was yet a boy; having only
completed his fourteenth year. To many temptations he
was now to be exposed, from which he had before been exempted, or the influence of which had been in a degree
counteracted.  Dangers of a very formidable kind frequently assail an inexperienced youth, not only from the
associates of his academical pursuits, but from some of
those pursuits themselves.  But the election had been
made; it was therefore necessary to commit him to the
care and blessing of God.
I feel pleasure in remembering, that, with his father, I
accompanied him to St. Andrew's, and thus far assisted
in introducing him to that scene of usefulness, and perhaps, in the best sense, I might say, of glory, in which he
was destined to act a conspicuous and an important part.
Lodgings of the humble kind, which are generally occupied by the young men who attended that University,
whose circumstances and prospects are not of a superior
description, were provided for him. The respective professors on whose lectures he was to attend, were spoken
to, and he was commended especially to the watchful care
of my respected friend, the Rev. William Lothian, minister of the Independent congregation, whose ministerial




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUTART.                47
labours he was to enjoy, on the Lord's day. Of that gentleman's kind and affectionate attentions, John ever spoke
with great warmth; and to him he was indebted for much
useful instruction, in private as well as in public.
Here I cannot allow the opportunity to pass without
bearing my public and decided testimony to the liberal
principles on which the Universities of my native country
are conducted.  At these important establishments, no
distinction of party is acknowledged. They are open to
men of all professions. No subscription is required at entrance or in any stage of future progress.  Their highest
honours are attainable by the Dissenter as well as by the
Churchman; and, in the distribution of their rewards, I
am not aware that any difference is made in consequence
of the candidate not being of the established faith. At
St. Andrew's all the students are required to attend public
worship on the Lord's day, at the College church; but a
young man has only to signify that he is a Dissenter, and
that he means to attend regularly at the dissenting chapel
or meeting-house, and his attendance with his fellowstudents is at once dispensed with.  It is due to both
parties that I should state, that John Urquhart entered
the College of St. Andrew's as the son of dissenting
parents; * while there, he regularly attended a dissenting
meeting, and became a regular member of a Dissenting
Church; he left it with a mind unaffected on the subject
of dissent; and throughout his course of study, he received
from all the professors, the most marlked and affectionate
treatment.  Of their kind and honourable conduct, he
always spoke with the warmest respect and gratitude.
Of this impartiality he had soon a very substantial proof.
* Of the Congregational body.




48      MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQtnITART.
Contrary to the wishes of his father, he was determined
to offer himself as a candidate for one of the exhibitions,
or bursaries, as they are termed, in Scotland; most of
which have been left for the encouragement of young men
at the commencement of their college career, with a view
to help them to defray the expenses of it. Though the
sum is usually small, it has often proved highly beneficial;
not merely in aiding those whose resources are rather
limited, but in exciting and stimulating the successful candidate to further exertion. The effect produced in this
way on the mind of my young friend, I have no doubt,
was both considerable and beneficial. But, as happily his
own account of his trial and his success remains, I shall
allow him to tell the story of his first adventure himself.
In a letter to his father, dated St. Andrew's, 7th of November, 1822, he writes as follows: —
" MY DEAR FATHER- The bursaries are at last decided.
Tuesday was the day appointed for the competition; we
met accordingly, at ten o'clock in the morning, and got a
passage to translate from Latin into English, which we
gave in at two o'clock. We were then allowed an hour
for dinner, and assembled again at three, when we had
another version to turn from English into Latin, which we
finished about six o'clock. We were then, without getting
out, locked up in a room to wait till we were called in our
turn to be examined upon an extempore sentence. I was
not called upon till near eleven, when I was dismissed for
that night. The professors met yesterday to determine
the bursaries, from the exercises that had been performed
the day before. There were no less than thirty-three comDetitors, and as I knew many of them to be very good




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.                49
scholars, from their answers in the public classes, I had
given up all hopes of getting one. You may then judge
of my very agreeable disappointment, on going last night
to know the determination, to hear that I had gained the
first bursary.  I could not believe it till we, who had
got bursaries were called in, and informed of it by the
Principal.
"' I began my letter with the decision of the bursaries,
and have dwelt on them so long, because I thought it
would be the most agreeable intelligence I could communicate. The whole four bursaries are equal in regard
to value, being each eight pounds a session, for four years,
if the person continues at the College for that time.  It
has certainly greatly relieved my mind, as my expenses
here will now be comparatively easy.  I was very dull, of
course, for the first two or three days I was here, but since
Alexander Duff came, I have been happy enough with my
situation.  I feel every comfort that I could have at home,
excepting the presence of my friends.  Mr. Lothian has
been unremitting in his kindness to me ever since I came."
This letter shows satisfactorily the attainments he must
have made, when at the early age of fourteen, he could
gain the first bursary among thirty-three competitors, the
great body of whom must have been much further advanced
in life than himself. It affords evidence, also, of that
spirit of exertion and independence which distinguished
him to the last.  It was his desire to be as little burdensome to his parents as possible; and everything which
enabled him to diminish that burden, he grasped at with
avidity.  His wants were very easily supplied; and could
I, with propriety, communicate the details and evidence
5




50       BIMEMOIIR OF JOHN URQUHART.
of his economy, which are now before me, I am sure they
would excite no ordinary degree of surprise. Possessed,
even at this early period, of a generous and self-denying
spirit, he nobly sacrificed everything which it was possible
for him to give up, so that the expense of his education
might affect as little as possible the other branches of the
family.
The time of a young man attending the classes of a
University must be so fully occupied, that it would be
foolish to expect that much of it should be spent in letter
writing. Besides, many letters may be written which contain nothing that would be proper to meet the public eye.
The following extract from a letter to his mother, discovers his affection for her, gives some account of his employments, and shows how busily and constantly he was
engaged.
"ST. ANDREW'S, December 12, 1822.
" MY DEAR MOTIIER - I confess that I ought to have
written to you before now; I shall make no excuse for not
doing so; but shall only say, that it by no means proceeded from forgetfulness or neglect of you.  If there is
any one of you that I remember more than another, you
are that one; and, indeed, I must be kept in constant rememibrance of you, by the comforts you are sending me
every opportunity. The flannels, &c., which you sent last,
were very acceptable; the mittens you sent me were also
very seasonable; but I hope you were not, in any way,
depriving yourself of them for my sake; for, if I thought
so, I could have no pleasure in wearing them.'" I was happy to hear by my father's last letter, that
you were keeping free of your complaint. I hope you are




MEMOIR  OF JOHN URQUHAR T.                 51
still so; and David * also. I always feel a kind of uneasiness in being absent from you all; but to hear that you
are all well removes the greater part of it.  For my part,
I am keeping my health better here than ever I did before.
I have not had the slightest head-ache. This, I am convinced, proceeds in a great measure from  regularity.
Every hour is employed much in the same manner every
day.  My meals are also strictly measured in the same
quantity. I rise every day at seven o'clock, (with candlelight of course,) go to the Greek class at eight, and remain
there till nine; take my breakfast and go to the library
between nine and ten; go to the mathematics from ten to
eleven; the Greek again from eleven to twelve; take a
walk between twelve and one; go to Latin from one to
two; dine between two and three; study till four; take a
walk between four and five; and am in the house the rest
of the night: you have thus a history of the time I have
spent since I came here.
" This has been a very dry letter, but you may expect a
better next.
"And believe me to be,'" Your very affectionate and obedient son."
By the same conveyance, he wrote his eldest brother a
playful letter, enclosing a plan of St. Andrew's, sketched
with his pen, with very considerable accuracy and neatness.
Ile paid a visit of a few days to Perth, during the
Christmas vacation of College, and returned to prosecute
his studies with increasing ardour and diligence.  When
the end of the session arrived, he bore off the silver medal,
which is the highest prize of the junior Greek class, which
IIis eldest brother.




-52      MEM OIR OF JOHN URQUHART.
he attended.  HIe also received " Xenophon de Cyri Expeditione," as a prize in the junior Latin class.  In the
senior mathematical class, taught by Professor Duncan,
he obtained "Simpson's Conic Sections," as one of the
prizes; but which in order, I have not ascertained. This
success could not fail to be flattering to a young and
ardent mind; yet I do not recollect that he seemed much
elated by it on his return.  He seldom spoke of himself;
and though to me he was accustomed to speak freely, he
rarely adverted to his exertions, and scarcely at all to the
honours which he had obtained.
I have reason to believe, indeed, that the good work
was slowly and imperceptibly going on in his soul. I know
that he was then in the habit of reading the Scriptures
regularly every day, and that he and his companion frequently joined together in prayer.  His uniform correctness of conduct and regularity in attending the means of
grace on Sabbath, encouraged the hope that a decided
profession of religion would be made at no distant period.
In such a case as his, no very marked or visible transition
could take place. His mind, familiar from infancy with
divine truth, had not to acquire a theoretical knowledge
of it. Not the intellectual perception of the gospel, but
the moral taste for its beauty and adaptation, was the
thing required.  The former is a mere human attainment,
the latter is the doing of the Lord.  Man may cultivate
and enlarge the understanding; but God only can touch
and renovate the heart. Our expectations in regard to
this were not disappointed.
The following extract of a letter from his companion
Mr. Duff, confirms these observations, and shows what a
change must afterwards have taken place.




MEMOIR OF JOTIN  URQUIHAR1T.               53
"During the session of College at St. Andrew's, in
1822-3, he and I lodged together in the same room.  He
was still the same John Urcquhart, though more ripened in
intellect, and, if possible, more amiable in deportment.
He attended the junior Greek and Latin classes, and the
second mathematical class. HIe gained the first prize in
the Greek, a prize in each of the competitions in the Latin,
and a prize in the Mathematics; all this he accomplished
with little labour or exertion.  He spent much time in
reading books from the public library: of what description
these generally were, I do not now remember; but one he
read and re-read with peculiar satisfaction,' The Memoirs
and Writings of Henry Kirke White.' He took great
delight in walking along the sea-shore, and exploring the
rocks which so abound in the neighbourhood of the town.
Throughout the whole session we regularly engaged in
the worship of God morning and evening; but I fear there
was much coldness, and much formality in almost every
exercise. With neither of us I fear, was religion then
made the great object.  There was little appearance of the
savour and unction of divine, little appearance of real joy
and delight in communion with God, little in short, to
manifest the earnest longing, the devout aspiration, the
holy zeal of him whose piety is deeply rooted in the heart,
and tinctures more or less with its own sacredness, every
thouglht and feeling, every word and action.  The Bible
was read, but I fear that the spiritual meaning of the
Bible was not understood, and the subduing power of its
doctrines not felt. Prayers were regularly offered; but I
fear that the real spirit of prayer was wanting - the fervent outpouring of the heart to God. The wonders of redeeming love formed but a small share of our discourse:
5*




54       MEMOIR OF JOHN UR QUHART.
our own individual interest in the great salvation, formed
not a prominent subject of eager inquiry and anxious
examination. In this manner passed the session of 1822-3,
without any remarkable incident."
He passed the following summer at home with his
friends, without any circumstance occurring worthy of
notice; and in the beginning of November, 1823, returned
to St. Andrew's to attend his second College course.
Scarcely any of his correspondence during this session
remains.  He appears to have been very busily engaged
in his various studies; and yet it was towards the close
of this period, that he was led to make that decided profession of religion, which he was enabled to maintain to
the last. I cannot express the gratification I felt on receiving the following letter from him; and which, notwithstanding its peculiar references to myself, I hope I shall
be forgiven for presenting entire.  I had not previously
heard of his taking the step to which it refers.
"ST. ANDREW'S, April 13, 1824.
" MY DEAR SIR - It is with feelings of a very peculiar
nature, that I sit down at present to write to you.  Since
I saw you last I have been admitted a member of a Christian Church. I determined to write to you at present for
several reasons. I have long considered you as one of
my best friends, and as a sincere servant and follower of
Jesus Christ; and your preaching was the first instrument
in the hand of God, of leading me to think seriously of
an eternal world. To you, therefore, I have determined
to reveal every feeling, and to open the recesses of my
heart.




MEMOTR  OF JOHN  URQUIHART.                55
"My first impressions of danger, as a sinner, were
caused by a sermon you preached on a Lord's day evening, about a year and a half ago. At the time, I was
very much affected; it was then I think, that I first really
prayed.  I retired to my apartment, and with many tears
confessed my guilt before God. These impressions were
followed by some remarkable events in the providence of
God, which struck me very forcibly.  About that time, I
had a proof of the inability of earthly wisdom and learning to confer true happiness, by the melancholy death of
Mr. Moncur. On leaving my father's house to come here,
shortly after, I felt myself in a peculiar manner dependent
on Jehovah. I was removed from the care of my earthly
father, and from the intercourse of my earthly friends;
and I felt great pleasure in committing myself to him who
is the father of the fatherless, and a friend to those that
have none.  My companion used to join me morning and
evening in the reading of the Scriptures, and prayer.
In these, and in attending on the more public exercises of
God's worship, I had some enjoyment, and from  them, I
think, I derived some advantage. On my return home,
however, last summer, I began to feel less pleasure in
these employments; they began to be a weariness to me,
and were at last almost totally neglected.  My soul reverted to its original bent, and the follies of this world
wholly engrossed my attention.  Had I been left in that
state, I must have inevitably perished. But God is rich
in mercy; he delighteth not in the death of the wicked.
In his infinite mercy, he has again been pleased to call my
attention to the things of eternity. For some months
back, I have been led to see the utter worthlessness of




r5;;    MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHARToT
earthly things; to see that happiness is not to be found in
any earthly object; that
"'Learning, pleasure, wealth, and fame,
All cry out, It is not here,'
And I think I have been led to seek it where alone it is to
be found, in'Jesus crucified for me.' I have felt great
pleasure in communion with God; and I have felt some
love, though faint, to the Saviour, and to his cause. I
have had a long struggle with the world; I have counted
the cost, and I have at last resolved that I will serve the
Lord. I have long been kept back from openly professing
my faith in Jesus from an apprehension lest my future
conduct might bring disgrace on the religion of the
Saviour. But I have begun to think that this proceeds,
in a great measure, fiom  self-confidence, and from not
trusting implicitly to the promises of God. I-He that hath
brought me thus far, will not now forsake me; he that hath
begun a good work will perfect it until the end.
"' On Thursday s'ennight, after imploring the Divine
direction, I felt it my duty to apply for admission to a
Christian Church; since then, I have conversed with two
of the members; and, being proposed last Lord's day, I
was received into their number.  I have thus, my dear sir,
as far as I can, related to you without reserve, mny various
feelings, and my state of mind since I first was impressed
with a sense of the importance of religion.  I have yet
many doubts whether I have been really renewed by the
grace of God.  Of this my future life must be the test.  I
see many temptations in my way, and I feel that I am not
able in myself to withstand them.  May God perfect his
strength in my weakness, and may he enable me to live




MEMOIR OF JOHtN URQUHAIRT.               57
henceforth, not to myself, but to him who died for me,
and who rose again; to offer my body a living sacrifice,
and to devote all the faculties of my mind to his service.
And now, my dear sir, pray for me, that he who is able
to stablish me according to the preaching of Christ Jesus,
may keep me from falling, and make me in the end more
than a conqueror. At present, farewell; I hope to see
you soon. Give compliments to Mrs. Orme, to my parents,
and all friends."
"P. S. You may, perhaps, think I have been rash in
joining myself to the church here, when I have a prospect
of returning to you in so short a time. I can only say
that I felt it my duty to apply immediately, that I have
before experienced the danger of procrastination, and that
I consider it much the same whether I be in the first
instance to be connected with the church here, or with
that in Perth, and that our friends here were all of the
same opinion. In connecting myself with that body of
Christians, to which you and my parents belong, I think I
have not been influenced by the prejudices of education,
but a sense of duty, and the writings of the apostles themselves."
This letter bears all the marks of the most ingenuous
and candid disclosures of the leadings of Providence, and
the workings of his own mind. It shows the gradual and
pleasing manner in which he had been led to receive and
obey the truth; and that although he had been much engaged in literary and scientific pursuits, and ardently
attached to them, the powerful operations of the divine
Spirit had carried forward the process of illumination and




58       MEMOIR  OF JOHN  UJRQUHART.
conviction, till it at last issued in his decided conversion
to God.  His reasons for taking the step which he had
adopted, were those by which he appears to have been invariably influenced in his religious course. He first sought
to ascertain what was the will of God; and on arriving at
a satisfactory conclusion on this point, he was then prepared to encounter all difficulties which stood in the way
of full compliance with it.  He delayed not, but hastened
to keep the commandment.
Hlow much it is to be regretted that prudential considerations, or sinful timidity, induce many individuals,
long after they have received the truth, to keep at a distance from the fellowship and ordinances of the Church of
Christ. Instead of looking at the command of God, and
considering the shortness and uncertainty of human life,
they allow year after year to pass away in inquiring and
doubting; or resolving and calculating, instead of deciding
and acting.  The consequences are a deprivation of personal comfort, to a great extent; the formation of habits
most unfavourable to the decision of religious character,
and injuries of various kinds being done to the souls of
others.
It is as clear as possible, that at the beginning, no
sooner did men believe the gospel, than they associated
together for the observance of all the institutions appointed
by Christ in his Church.  There was then no neutral
ground on which they could stand, between the world and
the Church of God.  No man is recognized in the New
Testament as a Christian, who is not a member of a Christian society.  Yet not a few can reconcile themselves
to remain in the perfectly anomalous situation of doing
all that Christianity seems to require, but making that




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUIIART.                 59
profession of it which lies at the foundation of everything else.
I am aware that human barriers have sometimes been
presented, by which some have been improperly kept at a
distance from the fellowship of the gospel, who ought to
have been welcomed into it.  But I fear, in the majority
of instances, the evil is to be traced to erroneous ideas of
the gospel, inadequate impressions of divine authority, and
to a want of that firm and decided principle, which, wherever
it exists, will conquer trivial and even considerable difficulties.  Providence is frequently pleaded as an excuse,
while its arrangements are only putting our sincerity and
principles to the test. As he who -observeth the clouds
will not sow, so he that will not go forward in doing the
will of God till all difficulties are removed out of the way,
will always find something to hinder him.
The plea set up by many, that they are afraid they may
be left to bring disgrace on religion, is admirably adverted
to by my young friend.  A more superficial thinker -would
have ascribed this feeling to humility and self-distrust;
he, with nicer discrimination, ascribes it to self-confidence.
Provided our obedience were in any instance the result
of our own strength, we might be justified in exercising
delay on this principle.  But as from first to last we are
called to depend on the strength of another, the case is
very different.  Ile who enables us to believe, and flee
from  the wrath to come, will assuredly preserve us from
dishonouring him, if our confidence is properly reposed.
Many refuse to believe in Christ, on the plea that their
sins are too great for them to hope that they may be forgiven.  This they call humility; while in fact it is the
deceitful operation of pride. It is obvious that if they




60      MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUTIART.
thought they were better, they would not feel the same
difficulty; because they could then come to Christ with
greater confidence of acceptance. Many think they are
not good enough to observe the Lord's Supper; as if the
observance of it ought to be suspended on their goodness
or merit. It is intended exclusively for Christians; but
under that denomination, it includes all of every grade in
the profession, who really know and love the Lord. It is
designed, not for the perfect, but as the means of promoting perfection in those who are aiming to attain it. It is
intended, not for the full, but for the empty soul; and will
always prove useful in invigorating the life of godliness.
The following extract of a letter written long after, to
the Rev. W. Lothian, pastor of the church which he
joined, both illustrates his grateful feelings, and his strong
attachment to the church under his care.
"I am chargeable with many faults, and carelessness is
not among the least of them. I will not offer any apology,
or pretend to make an excuse for not writing sooner, for
my own conscience condemns me. But be assured it has
not proceeded from a want of Christian love, or a forgetfulness of the many spiritual blessings I have enjoyed
under your ministry, and in communion with the church
under your care, or the many acts of kindness shown
me by many of its members.  No! I will never forget
St. Andrew's; and the place where first I professed
myself a follower of the Lord, and the little body of
Christians who first gave me the right hand of fellowship, will be remembered with lively gratitude and de
light, when the associations of literary and social intercourse shall have been effaced, by the impression of other




MEMOIR  OF JO3 N URUTIIART.                61
scenes, and different pursuits. HTow different is our friendship from that of the world!  Distance of time and place
cannot weaken it, since neither can remove us from Christ.
So long as we love him who begat, so long shall we love
those who are begotten of him; and coldness of love to
our Christian brethren can only be produced by lukewarmness in our love to God. Forgive my wandering; I
sometimes forget that I am writing a letter."
"' The account which he gave," says Mr. Lothian, "c of
his religious views and experience, on being received into
church, was very satisfactory, and discovered great knowledge of the Scriptures in one so young.  He particularly
mentioned the advantage he had derived from parental
instruction, and from hearing the gospel faithfully preached.
I thought it my duty to remind him, that by casting in
his lot with us, he would be deprived of that patronage
which might otherwise have held out to him prospects of
temporal advancement. He, however, said, that he had
examined the subject for himself, and could not conscientiously unite himself to any other body of Christians."
The propriety of Mr. Lothian's caution will appear when
we reflect on the tender years of young Urquhart, on his
highly promising talents, on the temptations incident to a
college life, and on the little inducement which he could have,
under such circumstances, to connect himself with a small,
and in the city of St. Andrew's, a despised independent
church. Difficult as the circumstances were, he maintained
his consistency and integrity of character to the last. And
such was the power of principle, and his attachment to the
body to which he belonged, that when on his leaving St.
6




62       MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUIART.
Andrew's, a very desirable situation was put in his power,
lie would not accept of it, till the parties were informed
that he was a Dissenter, and that the full liberty to act
according to his own principles was the sine qua non of
his acceptance.  I mention these things chiefly as evidences of his sincerity, decision, and steadiness.
Important as these matters were, it must not be supposed that he was so absorbed by them as to neglect his
professional studies.  The best evidence of the contrary is
furnished by the fact, that at the end of the session, which
took place after he joined the church at St. Andrew's, he
obtained again some of the best prizes. A second time he
received the silver medal, as the best scholar in the senior
Greek class; and also the second prize, " Xenophon de
Cyri Institutione," in the same class. In the third mathematical class, he also obtained one of the best prizes. His
distinguished attainments as a Greek scholar, were thus
noticed by Professor Alexander:  "'He prosecuted his
studies with unremitting assiduity; evinced talents and
attainments in Greek literature of the first order; and in
each session carried off, as he well merited, the highest
prize of distinguished scholarship."
On his return home, I had the opportunity of conversing fully with him on the nature of his religious views, the
great change which had taken place in him, and the object
which he was now led to pursue.  I found his mind, as I
expected, devoted to the Christian ministry; and it now
became my pleasing duty to encourage his resolution, and
direct his reading with a view to that object. Possessing,
as he evidently did, the leading qualifications to form a
popular preacher, I hailed the day when it might be my
privilege to introduce him in some form to the elevated




iMEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHtART.                  63
and responsible employment of the ministry.  I forget
whether he then said much, or anything to me respecting
the object to which he finally directed all his attention,
the work of a Christian missionary. I entertain little doubt,
however, that he then thought of it; but as my views of
his talents led me to think of the home, rather than of
the foreign service, I must have chiefly directed his mind
towards thile former.
While he was at home during this vacation, he wrote an
essay on the Nature and Design of the 1Mission of the
Saviour on Earth, intended, I believe, for some magazine,
which promised a prize for the best essay on the subject.
I remember that he showed it me; but I am unable to say
whether he sent it. His accurate knowledge of the gospel,
and the ease with which he could express himself respecting its nature and design are here strikingly illustrated.
I believe it is the first piece of extended composition which
he wrote, and cannot therefore be so perfect as some of
his subsequent pieces. But the language requires as little
apology as the sentiment. The former is as simple as the
latter is dignified.*
This paper contains a very excellent view of all the
leading truths of the gospel. They are every one of them
stated fairly, and are all blended together in admirable
harmony. No undue importance or prominence is given
to any one topic, while the practical design of the whole is
constantly kept in view. It discovers a discrimination and
justness of conception, as well as an extent of acquaintance with divine truth, very rarely to be found in a youth
of sixteen.
Even at this early period, and while so little accustomed
* See Appendix A.




64       MEM OIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.
to composition, he was above the ambition of fine writing.
}Here is no attempt at it; and yet the language is admirable for its appropriateness and simplicity. His mind was
evidently filled with the importance of the subject; and
from the abundance of his heart his mouth spake.  His
only object was to express himself clearly and forcibly;
and in this he completely succeeded.
My personal intercourse with him was shortly after this
time brought nearly to a close. In consequence of removing to London, our subsequent connection was maintained
chiefly by letters.  He employed himself, of his own
accord, after my removal, for several weeks, in making
out a catalogue of my library; classifying the books, as
well as numbering them and registering their titles. It
is now in my possession, and evinces, at once, his correctness and diligence, and his love for the proprietor, as it
must have cost him considerable labour.  That labour,
however, I am sure he never thought of; it gratified, in a
small degree, his love of books, as he amused himself by
looking at many of them as he passed them through his
hands; and it afforded him the far higher gratification of
doing an unsolicited service to a friend whom he loved. I
now deeply, but unavailingly, regret, that my opportunities of personal usefulness to him, were not, on my part,
sufficiently cultivated.  I too often neglected the present,
by anticipating the future; and thus allowed many occasions to pass away, which might have been employed in
promoting his advancement in knowledge and piety.
Still, I trust, that intercourse was not altogether without
profit.  He is gone before, to the region where are no
defects. May it be my privilege to follow, and to meet
him there at last!




MEMOIR OR JOHN URQUHART.    65
CHIAPTER III.
Introduction to Dr. Chalmers -Attends the Moral Philosophy class
-First appearance at this class — Letter to his father, on the
formation of the University Missionary Society- On the same,
and other topics -Mr. Duff's account of the progress of his religious views - Letter to his parents, on the death of a younger
brother —Letter to Mr. Orme, partly on the same subject - Lettei' to his mother - Letter to his brother - Letter to his sisterLetter to an afflicted friend - Letter to the same - His diligence
at Dr. Chalmers' class - Letter to a young friend - Letter to his
father-S uccess during the third session at College —View of
John's talents and character at this time, by a fellow-student.
Two events of considerable importance belong to his
return to St. Andrew's, for the third session, in November,
1824 —his introduction to Dr. Chalmers, and attendance
on the Moral Philosophy class, taught by him; and the
formation of a Missionary Society among the students of
the University.  Of the Doctor, young Urquhart had long
been a passionate admirer; and, to be one of his pupils,
was the object of his most ardent desire.  IHe was too
modest to anticipate the enjoyment of Dr. Chalmers' personal friendship, in the high degree in which he afterwards
enjoyed it; but which it is evident was most gratifying to
both parties.
Moral Philosophy, as it has been usually taught at the
Scottish Universities, is one of the most dangerous and
ensnaring studies in which a young man can engage.  Instead of being, as the designation of the science imports,
6 *




66      MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.
the philosophy of morals, it is commonly treated as the
philosophy of mind, and is chiefly directed to the varied
and perplexing phenomena of mental perception and operation.  Instead of connecting ethics with the revealed
will of God, it has too often been employed to gender
scepticism, and foster the pride of intellect. Hume and
Maalebranche, Berkeley and Reid, are more frequently
appealed to than the writers of the Bible; and many a
young man who went with his principles tolerably correct,
if not altogether established, has left the class a sceptic,
or a confirmed unbeliever.  The occupation of this chair
by such a man as Dr. Chalmers is of incalculable importance.  It secures against the danger of those speculations
which -
" Lead to bewilder, and dazzle to blind,"'
and provides that morals shall not become the enemy, but
the handmaid of religion.
With missionary objects, young Urquhart's early associations had made him familiar; and his mind having become deeply impressed with the importance of eternal
things, he was exceedingly desirous of interesting others
in the noble object of missionary exertion.
Of his first appearance in the Moral Philosophy class,
and, also of the exertion which he made to accomplish the
other object, I have been furnished with a short account,
by his bosom friend, and contemplated associate in foreign
labours, Mr. John Adam.  The following extract from a
letter to me relates to both:"My first acquaintance with John Urquhart, commenced at St. Andrew's, in the winter of 1824. I had




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUIIART,                67
gone chiefly for the sake of Dr. Chalmers' Lectures to
that University; and, besides my brother, was totally
unacquainted with any of the students.  The first subject
given out as an essay to the class, was on the divisions of
philosophy. The Doctor had introduced us to his department of the academical course, by some general observations on this topic. He wished us each to give an abstract
in our own terms, before entering on the main business of
our investigating moral philosophy.  Not as yet familiar
with any of my fellows, I was particularly struck when
one of the youngest in the class, with simple dignity,
(though, as he told me afterwards, with great perturbation of mind,) read an essay, which, for purity of style, for
beauty of imagery, and a masterly delineation of thought,
exceeded everything we had then heard. Nor could I but
rejoice, when at the conclusion, a universal burst of admiration (which was evidently participated in by the Professor),
proceeded from all present. I need only say, that his
character, thus established, was maintained during the
whole course.  The decision of the prize, both by Dr.
Chalmers and his fellow-students, awarded him the first
honour they had it in their power to bestow.
"Soon after his first appearance in the class, I was
happily introduced to him, at the house of one of Mr.
Lothian's deacons, a Mr. Smith, when he mentioned a
plan he was then meditating: viz., to attempt the formation of a Missionary Society, such as they had at Glasgow, which should not be confined to the Hall of The4
ology.  This project was carried into effect a few days
after; and a number of names having been collected from
the Philosophy College, a junction was formed with a small




68       MEMOIR  OF JOIN  IURQUHART.
society that had already existed amongst the students of
divinity.
"'During the term  of this session, my friendship for
John was cemented; and by studying together, by walks,
and -frequent intercourse, we became so attached, that,
not to have seen one another for a few hours, was an
extraordinary occurrence."
In a letter to his father, of the date of November the
3d, he communicates some particulars on the same subjects.
" MY DEAR FATHER- I arrived safe here the same day
I left you, and am again very comfortably settled in my
old lodgings.'a We have been attempting to form a Missionary Society in our College, to co-operate with one which the
divinity students formed last year.  We do not expect
very large contributions, and the assistance which we can
render to the cause may be, comparatively, but trifling:
but the great object we have in view is to obtain and circulate missionary intelligence among the students; a thing
which, we trust, with the blessing of God, may prove useful to themselves; and, though not directly aiding the
cause, may, in the end, prove highly beneficial to it. For
this purpose, we propose holding monthly meetings for the
purpose of reading reports, and conducting the other business of the society. We wish also, if possible, to collect a
small library of books connected with the subject; and
what I have chiefly in view in writing to you about it is,
that you may send any reports, or sermons, or other works,
connected with missions, which you can obtain. You may
mention the thing to any of our friends who you think




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.                69
could favour us with any of such publications, which will
be very thankfully received. The formation of such society
in such circumstances is, I think, peculiarly interesting;
and may, if properly conducted, be productive of the most
interesting results; and I am sure the friends of the Saviour
will be happy to assist us in our operations. In asking
for subscriptions, we have hitherto met with no refusals;
and, though we have not yet got many, I have no doubt
but it will succeed."
The following, written a little after this, notices the
state of St. Andrew's, and some other things relating to
the formation of the University Missionary Society:" ST. ANDREW'S, December 15, 1824.
" MY DEAR FATHER-As I do not intend coming home
at Christmas; and, as it will be some time before I need to
send my box, I sit down to write you a few lines at present. I received yours along with a parcel containing a
new watch, about a fortnight ago; for which I feel very
grateful.  I am as comfortably situated this year as I
could wish. I have been introduced to some very excellent companions at Dr. Chalmers' class. The Doctor has
brought a good number of students from other Universities, many of them of very polished manners, and, I think,
not a few of very decided piety.
"' The Doctor has thus not only increased the number
of the students, (which, this year, amounts to about two
hundred and fifty;) but those who have come for his sake,
being mostly of evangelical principles, he has thus, though
indirectly, wrought a great change on the religious aspect
of our University. It is to this chiefly, that I would attri



o0      M EMEMOIR OF JOHN URQUItART.
bute the success with which my efforts have been crowned,
in attempting to form a missionary society in our College.
We have got about forty subscribers, and have already
had two meetings, which we purpose to continue monthly.
There have also been formed a number of Sabbath-schools,
one of which is taught by Dr. Chalmers himself, and the
rest by students. And, besides this, several meetings are
held, by select parties of students, for social worship.
Such a change, I did not certainly expect to see in my
day. And this has not all gone on without opposition.
Not only were we refused a room in the College for our
missionary meetings, but the minds of the people of the
town are so influenced that, even yet, we are not quite
sure of a place to meet in regularly.
" On the whole, our College seems, at present, to present
an aspect something similar to that of the University of
Oxford, in the days of Hervey and Wesley.  Among the
rest of my class-fellows, there is a young man who seems
to be very zealous in the cause of truth.  HIe goes out to
the country and preaches every Sabbath afternoon, at a
place called Dunino; a place very much neglected; and
on Sabbath evenings, he has a meeting of fishermen, to
whom he preaches.
" With all this to render me happy, the remark of the
shepherd of Salisbury Plain is still applicable to me: that'Every man has his black ewe;' I have not been able to
get any teaching," &c.
These letters show how much his mind was now occupied
with promoting the spirit of missionary enterprise among
his fellow-students. Instead of wondering that he should
have met, at first, with some opposition to his plans, when




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.                 71
we consider the materials of which colleges consist, it is
rather surprising, he should have been so successful. The
state of religious zeal in the University of St. Andrew's,
had, for many years, approached nearer to the freezing
than to the boiling point. The first attempt, therefore, to
rouse and kindle the flame, could not fail to produce a certain degree of commotion.  This, however, our young
friend, and his associates met in a Christian manner, and
overcame by their prudence and good sense. Dr. Chalmers was early engaged in its support; and others of the
Professors also came afterwards to encourage it.  1-uis
friend, Mr. Duff, gives the following account of the progress of John's religious views and feelings at this time,
and of his exertions in forming the Missionary Society
among the students: —
"At the beginning of the session of 1824-5, the traces
of a gathering and growing piety were very observable.'Out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh;' and,
accordingly, religious subjects became with him; the great,
the constant, the delightful theme of conversation. Christianity was not now with him, a mere round of observances - a matter of cold and heartless formality.  It
engrossed all his thoughts, it gave a direction to all his
actions; and his chief concern was how to promote the
cause of his Redeemer. One evening, early in the session,
a few of his companions met in his room. The main topic
of conversation was the blindness of the understanding,
and the hardness of the heart, with its entire alienation
from God. This led to a discussion upon the influences
of the Spirit in removing the various obstacles that oppose
the reception of the truth as it is in Jesus. On this sub



7i2      M1E MiOIR OF JOHN URQUHART.
ject Mr. Urquhart's thoughts were striking, and his views
luminous.  Our attention was then directed to the resistance made to the offers of the gospel by the men of the
world, and the want of universality in its propagation.
The efforts of enlightened Christians in publishing the
glad tidings of salvation, and the operations of missionary
societies, were then largely spoken of. The vast, the
paramount importance of this object as involving the interests of time and eternity, was acknowledged by all.
The question was suggested, Is it not possible to form a
Missionary Society among the students?  By some the
idea was reckoned chimerical, from the coldness and
apathy well known to prevail among the members of the
University.  By others, among whom was Mr. Urquhart,
it was strenuously urged, that a vigorous effort should, at
least, be made for the purpose of forming an association
for the promotion of so good a cause. I cannot now state
the precise amount of influence which Mr. Urquhart's
arguments had on those present; only he was most urgent
and impressive in maintaining the propriety of the scheme,
and its probability of success.  Paper was accordingly
produced, and the prevailing sentiments stated: the object
being to procure a sufficient number of subscribers friendly
to the missionary cause, to justify the formaton of a society.
A small association of divinity students had met on the preceding year, in a private room, with the intention of reviewing and supporting missions. It was suggested, therefore,
that a union might be formed between the divinity and
philosophy students, (in the event of the latter coming forward,) so as to form an active and efficient body of members.  The whole scheme, so ably advocated by Mr.
Urquhart, succeeded far beyond the most sanguine expec



MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQU HART.                73
tations. And thus originated the St. Andrew's University
Missionary Society, which now ranks among its friends
and supporters more than one-third of all attending the
University."
As this society occupied so much of his thoughts, and
was, in fact, productive of some very important results to
himself and others; and, as the mode of conducting its
affairs was formed very much after the model of the St.
Andrew's Missionary Society, of which Dr. Chalmers was
the President, I am glad that I can give some account cof
the latter from his pen. It was furnished to " The St.
Andrew's University Magazine," a small monthly work,
published by those of the young men attending the theological and philosophy classes; and to which Urquhart
was an occasional contributor.  Though written the following year, it may be read appropriately in connection
with the present period of my young friend's life.*
The interesting views and reasonings of this well-written
paper are deserving of attention from the friends of missions. It shows how much may be made of this subject
by men of a discursive and philosopic turn of mind; and
were missionary meetings occasionally conducted in the
manner pursued by Dr. Chalmers, they would prove more
interesting and instructive than they often do.  Considering the period during which exertion has been made to
propagate Christianity among the heathen, and the number
of persons who are employed in the work, both at home
and abroad, it is surprising that some work, on what might
be called the philosophy of missions, has not yet appeared.
The only things, approaching to this character, are the
* See Appendix B.
7




74      MEMOIR O F JOHIIN U1R QUH AR  T.
"Hints on Missions," by Mr. Douglas, of Cavers; and
the work on " The Advancement of Society," by the same
highly gifted individual. But the former of these productions too accurately corresponds with its title, to answer
the purpose to which I refer; and in the other, the subject
is only noticed as one among many. From these works,
however, the germ of a highly valuable essay on the
subject of Christian Missions to the heathen might be
obtained.
What we want is not an increase of reports of yearly
proceedings, and arguments derived from the Scriptures,
to persuade us that it is our duty to engage in this good
work; but a condensed view of the knowledge and experience which have been acquired during the last thirty or
forty years. What appear to be the best fields of labour?
-what the most successful mode of cultivating them?what the kind of agency which has been most efficient, and
least productive of disappointment?-what the best method
of training at home, for the labours and self-denial to be
encountered abroad? - whether are detached and separate
missions, or groups of missions and depots of missionaries,
the most desirable?  These, and many other questions,
require a mature and deliberate answer. The materials
for such an answer exist. And can none of the officers
whose time is wholly devoted to the management of our
Missionary Societies furnish such a digest? Are they so
entirely occupied with the details of business, as to have
no time or inclination left for looking at general principles? Were more attention paid to the ascertaining of
such principles, and more vigour and consistency manifested in prosecuting them, there might be less of glare
and noise; but, assuredly, there would be a prodigious




M EMOIR OF JOHN  URQUIHART.                 75
saving of labour, property, and life; and, in the end, a
greater degree of satisfaction and real success.
"The first requisite in benevolent operations," says Mr.
Douglas, " as in all other undertakings, is system; a fixedness of design, and a steady adaptation of the means to the
end.  Opposite to that of system, is the pursuing of what
are called openings, or the being caught with every change
of circumstances and drawn by every chance of success
into new paths of pursuit, having no connection with each
other, and leading to remote terminations.  Every step
gained in a system, strengthens; every step gained without it weakens. The first object acquired leads to the
possession of the second, and that to the attainment of the
third, if all the objects to be attained are originally chosen
with reference to the accomplishment of a plan. Every
new object, where there is no system, divides the already
scattered forces; and success, if pursued, might dissipate
them  entirely, and leave but the vain pleasure of having
a number of defenceless stations, each calling for assistance, and all calling in vain, while the society only retained the empty boast of an extended line of operations,
and of being equally helpless and inefficient in every quarter of the globe.  On a system, each part strengthens the
other, the line of communication is held up entire; as each
point is gained, the whole advances; they are all in movement towards the same position, and they rest upon the
same centre of support."
I cannot pursue the subject further, but the existing
circumstances of our missionary institutions call loudly for
the consideration of these judicious remarks.  I return to
the narrative.
Not satisfied with his exertions in establishing and aid



G76      3IMEMOIR  OF JOHIN URQUHART.,
ing a missionary society, and thus contributing to diffuse
the gospel abroad, John felt it his duty to do all the good
in his power to those among whom he lived. This led him
at the commencement of this session to engage in teaching
a Sabbath-school, in a village a few miles distance from
St. Andrew's. To this place he was in the habit of going
regularly every Lord's day evening, and occasionally,
also, on other days, when he could find time, for the purpose of conversing with the parents; thus endeavouring to interest them in the spiritual welfare of their children, and in their regular attendance at the school.
These engagements have often been productive of the
most beneficial effects on young men intended for the
ministry, as well as on the minds of the rising generation.
They stimulate to the examination of the Scriptures,
accustom the teacher to an easy and familiar method of
speaking and address; and increase his acquaintance with
the peculiarities of human character.  The difficulties he
experiences in conducting such seminaries, and accomplishing his wishes, will be found to arise from many of
the same causes which operate on the " children of a
larger growth," whom  he may afterwards be called to
instruct. And the mode of meeting these difficulties by a
combination of faithfulness and affection, of perseverance
and prayer, will habituate him to the exercise of principles
and dispositions of the last importance, in discharging the
duties of the Christian ministry.
To this kind of service my young friend was much
attached, as well from  choice as from  principle and a
sense of duty.  HI-e was sensible of the benefit which
he derived from it himself; and, therefore, wherever he
was, though but for a short time, he endearoured to collect




MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART.,7
a few young persons around him. From the great amiability of his disposition, he never failed to bring them together, and to attach them to him; and, from his happy
method of engaging their attention, he was always rewarded, in seeing their love to the exercise, as well as
their personal attachment to himself. On his return home,
at the end of the session, he succeeded in establishing a
meeting of a few young men, of his own age, in his father's
house, once a week, for conversing about the Scriptures,
and for prayer; the benefit of which some of them, I hope
may yet enjoy.  While there, also, during the summer
vacation, he taught a Sabbath-school in the neighbourhood
of Perth; thus evincing his sincerity and diligence in the
improvement of every opportunity of usefulness which he
could command.
5Having noticed his feelings and views in regard to personal religion, and to the work of the gospel abroad, and his
exertions to promote its interests at home, it will now be
proper to advert to his progress in his literary pursuits,
especially in that class in which he made so distinguished
a figure. A certain description of persons, who are not
altogether opposed to religion, but who feel exceedingly
cool in regard to its claims, both upon themselves and
ot-lers, are much disposed to allege, that if the attention
of a. young person is much occupied with religious subjects, other things which he ought to pursue, must be
neglected.  It is admitted that there is some difficulty in
perfectly adjusting the relative and proportionate claims
of religious and other pursuits, especially during the more
active period of human life.  Wisdom  is necessary to
direct in this, and in many other matters, which cannot
be determined by the language of the Scriptures. To which




78       MEM0OIR OF JOHN URQUHART.
preference is dge, no doubt can be entertained. "Seek
ye first the kingdom  of God and his righteousness," is
a plain injunction applicable to all circumstances, and at
all periods of our existence. True wisdom consists in
obeying that injunction, which will never fail to secure
the fulfilment of the promise, " and all these things shall
be added unto you." Should there be in any instance an
excess in devoting what may be considered too large a
portion of attention to religion, surely it is a very pardonable offence.  If it be an error, it is an error on the safe
side. Allowances are made for individuals following the
bent of a powerful genius, when that genius is directed
towards some earthly object; but, unhappily, if the bent
of the mind is toward religion, the feeling which is manifested is very different.  What is an amiable and praiseworthy enthusiasm in the one case, is denounced as miserable and misguided fanaticism in the other.  The conduct
which raises an artist or a poet to the summit of earthly
glory, places a Whitefield and a Martyn in the pillory of
the world's scorn.
It is no common thing to find a mind so nicely poised
and balanced, as to be capable of giving every subject of
examination its proper degree of attention, and every
object of pursuit its just measure of importance.  It will
too generally happen that when one thing, whether of a
secular or spiritual nature, obtains firm possession of tile
mind, other things will, to a certain extent, be dislodged.
There is usually, to employ the expressive phraseology of
Dr. Chalmers, "'a shooting forth of the mind in one direction;" and when this happens, other things must be
obscured and left behind.  It;f, according to Spurzheim,
the faculty of common sense consists in the harmonious




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.                  79
arrangement and operation of all the other senses, it is
very evident that the faculty is by no means so common
as the phrase imports.
As it regards religion, however, I am inclined to think,
this is one of the libels 4Which its enemies are ever disposed
to propagate against it. They maintain in the face of all
evidence, that the men who are clamorous on the subject
of the spiritual wants of others, are usually defective in
their generosity to supply their temporal necessities. In
vain we appeal to our IHowards and Wilberforces, and
thousands besides, in refutation of the calumny.  It will
be reiterated till the world is regenerated.
I apprehend that it will often be found that our religious men are among the most ardent and devoted students.
Few men have distinguished themselves more when at
College, than AMartyn, and Kirke White; and I am happy
that I can add the name of Urquhart to the list of persons, who, under the noblest considerations, devoted their
fine talents and unconquerable ardour to the pursuits of
literature and science, that they might lay their crowns as
scholars at the foot of the cross.
I hesitated for some time whether I should give a few
of his essays in the Moral Philosophy class; fearing they
might not do full justice to his merits, and that to some
readers they might not be sufficiently interesting. But,
knowing the opinion of these essays, entertained by such
a man as Dr. Chalmers, and observing the beautiful
simplicity of language and felicity of illustration which
they discover; by which the most abstruse subjects are
rendered not only intelligible, but attractive, I have resolved to present them. The reader will thus see that he




80       MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUH ART.
who was so much at home in religion, was not a stranger
in the walks of philosophy.*
While engaged in these interesting exercises of his
academical course, and in the prosecution of his plans of
usefulness, he was called to sustain a painful trial, in the
death of his youngest brother. Nothing of this kind had
before occurred in the family, within his knowledge. Iie
was suddenly summoned to Perth; and after spending a
few days by the dying bed of his brother, and endeavouring to interest his mind in religion, he returned to St.
Andrew's, as the nature of the complaint left it very uncertain how long his brother might continue. On being
informed of his death he wrote to his father and mother,
as follows:"ST. ANDREW'S, January 17, 1825.
"My DEAR PARENTS - It is a remark which I have
somewhere heard, that God tries to bring us to himself by
mercies; but if this has not the effect, he makes use of
trials. Like the affectionate father of rebellious and disobedient children, he tries to win us by love; and it is
only our obstinate perseverance in our own ways which
forces him to use the rod.  It is true, that our very afflictions are signs of God's love towards us; for,'whom he
loveth he chasteneth.' But it is equally true, that they
are signs of his displeasure.  We, as a family, have long
been favoured with every blessing; and it becomes us to
ask, if we have been as grateful and as obedient as became
the children of so many mercies. A serious review of the
past, will make us wonder that our Father has been so
long-suffering; that he has withheld his chastening hand
* See Appendix C.




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.               81
so long. It becomes us, then, to repent of our unthankful
and repining disposition, and to humble ourselves under
the mighty hand of God.
" It is a joyful thing, that, in the time of affliction, God
does not hide his face from us, nor remove us far from
him. But it is the very end of all our trials to bring us
to himself by drying up our channels of happiness, to lead
us to the spring from whence those channels were supplied; by breaking the cisterns which we have hewed out
for ourselves, to lead us to the fountain of living waters.
"'I think I may say,' it has been good for me to be
afflicted;' it has driven me to the Bible, and to a throne
of grace, as the only consolations; and never did the
truths of the gospel appear more precious.  lMy Christian
friends here have been very attentive to me, and seem to
have sympathized with me in earnest.
"' This is certainly a warning to each of us, to be also
ready - a solemn exhortation to be active in the cause of
Christ; and whatever our hand finds to do, to do it with
all our might; knowing that there is no knowledge nor
device in the grave whither we are fast hastening.
"I am anxious to know what impression this solemn
event has made on the minds of my yet remaining brother
and sister. Death can sometimes affect the soul which has
been unmoved by the most solemn admonitions, and the
most impressive eloquence.  I am very sorry that it is out
of my power at present to write to them.
" The ways of God are very mysterious.  Had I been
here during the Christmas holidays, I could, in all probability, have got a situation, which would have enabled me
to support myself, and even, in a year or two, to have
given you some assistance  It was a situation as tutor in




82      MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.
a very pious family in England. I had been recommended
as a fit person for the place, but as it had to be occupied
immediately, it was given to another, who is there by this
time. From all the accounts I got of it, it seemed a place
where I could have been very happy; and I could not
help feeling disappointed. But it is a happiness to think
that it is a gracious Father that overrules all things; and
that he does all things well.
"P. S. Give me a more full account of the latter part
of my poor brother's illness."
Shortly after this, he wrote me a long letter, partly on
the same subject, and partly giving me an account of various affairs then transacting in St. Andrew's, which he
knew would interest me.
"ST. ANDREW'S, February 18, 1825.'MY DEAR SIR —I am really quite ashamed that I
have not sent you a letter long before now. I intended
writing by Dr. R., when I sent up the catalogue of
your library; but it occurred to me that at such an early
period of your new settlement, when you must have been
so much occupied with the bustle and the confusion attending such an event, it would have been altogether out of
place for me to trouble you with a letter.  It is now a
month or two since my father informed me in one of his
letters, that he had heard from you, and that you had
kindly expressed a wish that I would write to you from
St. Andrew's.  I really have no proper excuse for delaying so long; suffice it to say, that this is not the first time
I have sat down to address you; and that I might fill my
sheet to no purpose, in telling how often I have taken up




MEMOIR  OF JOHN URQUHART.                83
the pen, and what circumstances have hitherto prevented
me from finishing my letter. You have, in all probability,
heard before now, that death has at last entered our
family, and has snatched away the youngest and healthiest
of us all. Poor Henry had thought himself dying from
the first day he took to his bed, and had expressed a great
desire that I should be sent for. My father accordingly
sent for me; and on my arrival at home, I found my
brother in a state of very great agony, and quite unable
to converse with me.  I was anxious to speak to him
about that world whither he was evidently fast hastening;
but so excruciating was his pain, that he could not listen.
I can remember, when I asked him, after he had been
violently crying out from the pain in his head, what was
the cause of all his suffering, how expressively he answered, that it was sin. And at another time, on asking
him if he was afraid to die; he told me, No. But these
short answers were all I could obtain from him; the painful nature of his distress did not permit longer conversation. After staying at home about a week, I found that
I was waiting for a change which might yet be far distant; and that I was losing my own time without being
able to render any service to my brother. I therefore
resolved to return; but I think I shall never forget the
bitterness of that parting. I felt far more then, than
when I heard afterwards, that my brother was gone.
Henry begged of me not to go away, and my mother with
tears entreated me to remain; but I thought it my duty
to leave them; and in the issue, it has proved much better
that I did so; for my brother lingered for weeks after. I
cannot say whether I was more depressed or relieved by
the letter which brought the tidings of his death. I re



84       MEMOIR OF JOHN TURQUHART.
joice to think that his body was freed from very exquisite
suffering; but with regard to his soul all was uncertain.
I would indulge the hope, that his suffering may have been
rendered the means of bringing him to trust in that
Saviour about whom he had so often heard.  But it rests
with God. To us there has been given no certain assurance of his happiness. I hope I have myself been enabled
to see in this dispensation, the hand of an all-wise Father;
and that it has not been without a beneficial influence on
my own soul.  Separated from my earthly relations, and
deprived of the comfort which their sympathy might have
inspired, I was forced to seek consolation from that Friend
who never leaves his people. Never did I feel so much
the need of the consolations of the gospel; and never did
its declarations appear more cheering and consolatory.  I
could feel not only submissive, but thankful.  I could say
with Conder, when in a similar situation:-'Oh, to be brought to Jesus' feet,
Though sorrows fix me there,
Is still a privilege.'
But I have to regret that the impression has been of such
short continuance, and that my heart seems ready to go
back again to the vanities of the world. I can easily perceive that if the gospel have not an abiding influence on
the conduct, the mere sentimental tenderness, and deadness to the things of earth, which are produced by the
death of a friend, may, and will soon be forgotten. I
know you will forgive me for dwelling so long on this
painful theme. You will remember that the wound is yet
green; and you know from experience how the mind, in




MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUH-ART.                  85
such circumstances, loves to brood over the cause of its
sorrow.
"I must proceed to give you some information about
St. Andrew's. I might tell you of the prosperity of the
College; the increase in the number of the students, &c.;
but as these things cannot much interest you, I shall just
shortly advert to some religious institutions which have
been formed among us, and to the spiritual state in general of our town and University.  Dr. Chalmers has
effected a good deal by his own example and his own
exertions; but he has even been more useful in drawing
to this place a number of pious young men of various
denominations, who have been the instruments of bringing
about a great change in the externals, at least, of our
University.  We cannot indeed say, that any great moral
renovation has been effected; but the machinery, at least,
has been erected, which, with the blessing of God, may be
the means of effecting it. We have now Sabbath-schools
taught by members of the University; and meetings for
prayer among the students; and, what is more astonishing
still, a University Missionary Society, consisting of about
sixty members, who meet once a month for the purpose of
promoting the objects of the society.  In connection with
this last institution, we have formed a small library of
missionary books, which have mostly been sent us in presents; and from the circulation of which, I anticipate great
good. This is an institution in which I take particular
interest, as I have long considered the object which it has
in view one of the most important, perhaps, the most important, which can engage the mind of a Christian. And
for some time I have even seriously thought of devoting
my own life to the cause of missions. I had long wished
8




86       MEMOIR OF JOHN TUrITQIIART.
to find a companion who could enter into my own views on
this subject; and such an one I think I have fallen in with
this session.  His name is Mr. Adam; he had been
boarded for some time with Mr. Malan, of Geneva, and he
seems to have imbibed much of the spirit of that excellent
man.  We have sometimes talked over the subject of missions together, and I hope we may be yet honomed to
preach the gospel to the heathen. I am aware of the difficulties to be encountered; and of the danger of rashly
forming a resolution of such importance; but even the
desire I have expressed to you, is the fruit of much meditation and prayer. And I have communicated it to you,
in order to have the benefit of your advice. I shall always
look to you as one of the best friends I have on earth, and
I trust my father in Christ Jesus. I wish you would send
me word about the institution at Gosport.  I have heard
there is a great deficiency in the number of students. I
entreat that you will pray for my direction in this matter of so great importance with regard to my spiritual
happiness.'I may mention, by the way, that we have a Mr.
HI ~   here, a Baptist minister, from London; of whom,
perhaps, you may have heard.  HIe has come to attend
Dr. Chalmers, and has been very useful here. Hie and my
friend, Mr. Adam, have established several preac}ling
stations in the country round, where the people seem eager
to hear the gospel.
"' I am sorry that I am so soon obliged to conclude; for
I have not told you the half of what I have to communicate.  When I heard from home, my friends were well;
and the church had given Mr. Jack a unanimous call.' Perhaps I have been too free in still retaining the




MEMOIR  OF JOHIN  URIQUIART.               87
Hebrew books you were pleased to lend me. I am devoting all my spare time to the reading of the Psalms.
"I shall be very much gratified by a letter.  Perhaps
you may be interested to hear that I preached, for the
first time, on Saturday last, to a few of lmy fellow-students,
who have formed themselves into a society for extempore
preaching.  We meet in the Divinity-Hall.  Farewell."
The reader, I am sure, will join me in admiring the
beautiful combination of Christian principle and brotherly
affection contained in these letters.  There is no affectation of feeling; but the utterance of it in the simplest and
most impressive language.  He dwells on the slight indications of religious feeling which his brother could give,
with evident delight; and fondly cherished hope as far as
tile circumstances admitted.  The account of the progress
of religion and of the juvenile association, is also very
interesting.  It shows how completely his heart was now
engaged; and, from this time, I considered him devoted
to the work of God among the heathen, should Providence
be pleased to spare his life. I accordingly wrote to him
to encourage and cherish, rather than to stimulate him,
which, I perceived, he did not require. The sermon to
which he refers, as his first essay in this kind of composition, remains among his papers; and would do credit, in
point of sentiment and expression, to a minister of some
years standing.
Htaving been the principal means of establishing the
University Missionary Society, he appears to have taken
a very active part in its management.  And as an evidence how much it engaged his mind, and how fully he
thought on all the bearings and aspects of the great work,




88      MEMOIR OF JOIIN URQUIIART.
I must introduce an essay which he read at one of its
meetings, held on the 12th of February; a few days before
the writing of the preceding letter.*
He was too busy about this period to spend much time
in correspondence; but a few of his letters, though short,
I must introduce.  They will show the strength and delicatcy of his natural feelings, and how tenderly he was
alive to all the charities of human life. A sentence is
sometimes more indicative of feeling and sentiment than
a volume.
"ST. ANDREW'S, February, 1825.
"MY DEAR MOTHER -If ever in my life T felt quite
oppressed and burdened with kindness, it was on the receipt of your very kind communication after my brother's
death; and I am quite ashamed that I have not long before
now found means to express my gratitude.  My friends
seem to have vied with each other, who should be kindest,
and who should pay me most attention; and had I not
been quite overburdened with business, you should have
had a letter long before now. At the time you sent, I
had a very severe cold, which seemed to show some disposition to settle in my breast; but I am now tolerably
well again.  Nothing, however, could prevent my good
landlady, on the recommendation of Mr. Smith, who called
on me, from ordering flannels for me, which of course has
greatly assisted in emptying my slender purse. I have
just received my father's letter of the 4th, and am exceedingly happy to hear that the church have all come to one
mind concerning Mr. Jack.  The choosing of a minister
is in general one of the most trying times to our churches;
* See Appendix D.




MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUIART,                  89
and I think wre have much reason to bless God that roots
of bitterness have not been permitted to spring up and
trouble us.  Things are going on pretty well among
us. The people round about seem to be hungering and
thirsting after righteousness.  Mr. Adam preached in the
country on Friday, at a new station, where the people
thlemselves had requested that some one should come.
There is a great want of labourers - they have pressed
Mr. R        into the service, but still there is employment which is more than enough for them."
" ST. ANDREW'S, February 22, 1825.
"M y DEAR BROTHER -I have sometimes blamed, or
rather pitied you, (for it is not a legitimate subject of
blame,) for a want of feeling; and I am quite sorry I have
ever done so; for the deep pathos that runs through some
of your letters, which are, notwithstanding, expressed in
all the unaffected and unstudied simplicity of nature, convinces me that I have been very far mistaken.  I recollect of being very much struck by your truly pathetical,
yet artless account of the death of T. Greig, which was
contained in a letter you sent me about a year ago; and I
have been still more affected by your very touching allusion, in your last, to the death of our brother. I would
indulge the hope that this event may have proved a blessing to us as a family.  In all the communications I have
received from home, there has, I think, been displayed a
spirit of greater tenderness than usual.  With your own
short letter I have been particularly pleased. You could
not have given me a more satisfactory proof that this dispensation has been in some degree blessed to you than the
feeling of self condemnation which your letter breathes."
O S*




90      MEMOIR' OF JOHN UR QUHART
"MY DEAR SISTER - I have the expectation of seeing
you so soon, that it may be thought almost unnecessary
for me now to write to you: but I cannot think of letting
the session pass without sending you a letter. I was
gratified to hear from  Mr. lIuir that you had written a
letter for me. I am quite sorry you did not send it, for
I am sure that those very things which seemed blemishes
to you would have enhanced its value to me. It is an
easy and unstudied effusion of sentiment which constitutes
the great charm of epistolary correspondence. I wish you
would always write to me the simple dictates of your own
heart without any external interference whatever, and
with the fullest confidence, that, what you write will never
meet any eye but my own. I hope to see you now in a
few weeks, and to be able to devote a good part of my
time in the summer months to your education. I hope
you have been going on with your French. I should have
written you a much longer letter had it not been that I
expect so soon to see you personally."
In these letters the feelings of nature are expressed in
a very interesting manner.  The letter to his brother contains some very delicate touches, and manifests much tact
and discrimination, as well as great ingenuousness and
deep concern for the salvation of his soul. May his
prayers and expostulations not be in vain!
The two following, though the last is without date, appear to have been written during this session.
"ST. ANDREw's, March 13, 1825.
4 MxY DEAR FRIEND - This is Sabbath evening, and it is
now pretty late, yet I cannot think of letting my father go




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  U1RQUHIART.             91
without writing by him. I have had but little experience
in the feelings of the afflicted, but yet I can remember
how the receipt of a letter from a friend, or any such little
incident, would sometimes mitigate, in a degree, the pains
of disease, by chequering the dull and tedious hours of
confinement. And, if in this way I can have any hope of
ministering to your comfort, it were surely most ungrateful of me to let slip, -through negligence, a single opportunity of doing so. My father tells me that you are still
very poorly; but you know, from experience, far better
than I can tell you, that every affliction works for the
good of them that love God. You must have a satisfaction in feeling that every trial through which God has
carried you, has been an additional proof of his love to
you, and of your interest in a Saviour! A satisfaction
which that individual, whose religion (like mine) has been
all in the sunshine of prosperity, cannot enjoy. I have
not yet proceeded far on the voyage of life, and hitherto
all has been smooth and prosperous; but I sometimes look
forward with dread foreboding to the many tempests which
I may have to encounter on life's rough sea, and to the
many waves of trouble and distress which roll between me
and that peaceful shore, where'billows never beat, nor
tempests roar.' And at such times I could envy the case
of that bark, which, like yours, has long been tossed by
many a tempest, but which has weathered them all, and is
just about to drop anchor in the peaceful haven. But I
feel that this is a sinful feeling, and proceeds from weakness of faith.  It is doubting his word, who has said,'when thou walkest through the fire it shall not burn
thee; and through the waters, they shall not overflow
thee.' I am sorry that I am obliged here to conclude




92      W1 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHIART.
abruptly, as my time is gone. May the Lord support you
in all your trials!"
"MY VERY  DEAR FRIEND —I cannot think of leaving you,
as we parted last night, without some expression of what
I feel at your often repeated kindness which has entailed
upon me a debt of gratitude which I can never discharge.
All that I am, and all that I have, are devoted, I trust, to
the service of God; and the only way that I can ever
repay the kindness of Christian friends is by redoubling
my ardour in the great cause for which we all live, and
for which we all die. If this shall be the effect of your
generosity, it will produce to you a double reward, and to
me a double benefit.  You will not only enjoy the thought
that you have gained the lasting gratitude and good wishes
of a fellow-pilgrim in this world, but when this world, and
all the things that are therein, shall be burnt up, you will
be rewarded a thousand-fold as having contributed, in
some degree, through that unworthy individual, to promote the interests of a cause, the noblest that ever occupied the thoughts of men or of angels; I had almost said,
of God himself.
"And if your kindness prove to me, as I trust it will,
a stimulus to greater exertion in the cause to which I am
devoted, that will be an infinitely greater benefit than all
the advantages it may directly confer.  Thus may the
Lord make your kindness a double blessing both to the
giver and to the receiver. And to his name be all the
thanks and all the glory."
The two preceding letters would do credit to any pen as
specimens of natural and unaffected epistolary correspond



MEMOIR OF JOHN  UQUInIART.                93
ence; while the sentiments they contain, and the spirit
which they breathe, would not be unworthy of the most
mature Christian. The fears respecting the future, which
he so beautifully expresses, were never realized.  His
tender bark was indeed ill fitted to encounter the storms
and perils of this world; and therefore infinite goodness
brought it speedily to " the land of glory and repose."
Dr. Chalmers' class seems to have occupied the principal share in his attention during this winter; and in moral
philosophy and political economy, he appears to have
made great proficiency. Besides his notes of the Professor's lectures, and the papers which he wrote on the various subjects which were assigned, or voluntarily undertaken, he composed a synopsis, or analysis of Smith's
Wealth of Nations, the favourite class-book of Dr. Chalmers, and which has contributed more to produce correct
views of society, and of the science which is now so popular,
than any production of the age.  My young friend read
this work evidently with great care; and though he must
have generally admired it, and agreed in its statements
and reasonings, he did not blindly adopt them. His essay
on the Distinction between Productive and Unproductive
Labour, will evince that he could think for himself, and
discover even in the able work of that most profound
thinker, positions that are not altogether tenable.*
Every one must admire the acuteness and talent displayed in this essay. More than common discernment
was necessary to catch the author of the Wealth of Nations
tripping; but still greater talent was required to detect
the fallacy and expose the mistaken reasonings by which
the theory was supported. A discovery, when made, often
* See Appendix E.




94       MEMOIR  OF JOIIN  URiQUHART.
appears very simple and easy; but the mind which makes
that discovery, and the process which leads to it, belong
not to the common order, and may be far removed from
vulgar apprehension.
Among his papers, which were written about this time,
are several fragments, on subjects of great importance;
and while I feel deep regret that they are imperfect, I
cannot throw aside even the fragments of such a mind.
The first is on Written Language, in which his object appears to have been to prove that it is of divine origin.
This is a view of the subject not peculiar indeed to him,
but still not usually adopted by philosophers and philologists; though I confess it has long appeared to me the
only tenable hypothesis.  The employment of hieroglyphics, and the use of them to record facts of a certain
kind, are easily accounted for; but the discovery of alphabetic writing is a very different matter. The extraordinary
simplicity of alphabetic characters, and their still more extraordinary power, render it improbable that they should be
the discovery of chance, or the invention of a barbarous people: while the impossibility of arriving at any great degree
of civilization or scientific advancement without them,
supposes that the discovery must have preceded.  If
reason and language are the gifts of God, it is not going
too far to say, that both are imperfect and very limited in
their operation without the use of a written language. In
order to preserve and authenticate a divine revelation, a
fixed medium of that revelation seems absolutely necessary; and, perhaps, it would not be difficult to suggest
reasons amounting to high probability, that when the law
was given to Moses, the first knowledge of alphabetic
writing, and the first specimen of it were then com



MEMOIR  OF JOHN URIQUIHART.                 95
municated. But this is not the place to pursue such an
inquiry.*
Among his other pursuits during this busy session, he
wrote several discourses on passages of Scripture. Some
of them were read to Mr. Lothian, others of them to a small
number of his fellow-students; but none of them, I believe,
was used in any other way.  They are all illustrative of
the soundness and clearness of his mind; the accuracy and
extent of his knowledge of the Scriptures; the philosophical
turn of his thinking; and his prevailing disposition to connect all his pursuits with the missionary enterprise, in
which even then, he ardently wished to engage. I am
very much deceived if the discourse, which I give as a
specimen, will not be considered an extraordinary effort
of so young a mind.-t
I do not know whether the writer of this admirable
discourse ever saw the "Hints on Missions," by Mr.
Douglas; but there is a passage in that little work so
applicable to the subject of this discourse, and so important in itself, that I shall here take the liberty to
introduce it: —
" While belief is connected with truth, we shall never
want converts; and while the belief of truth impels
to the communication of truth, we shall never want
preachers.'I believed, and therefore have I spoken.' THere is a
measure derived from heaven to judge of the sincerity of
belief. The laws of the human mind are not circumscribed
within degrees and parallels. He who has no desire to
proclaim the gospel abroad, has none to proclaim it at
home, and has no belief in it himself; whatever profes* See Appendix F.           t See Appendix G.




96       MEMOIR  OF JOHN URQUHART.
sions he may make, are hollow and hypocritical.  Bodies
of Christians who make no efforts to christianize others,
are Christians but in name; and the ages in which no
attempts are made to send the glad tidings to heathen
countries, are the dark ages of Christianity, however
they may suppose themselves enlightened and guided by
philosophy and moderation.
" The ages of Christian purity have ever been the ages
of Christian exertion.  At the commencement of Christianity, he who believed in the gospel, became also a
preacher of the gospel.'We believe, and therefore we
speak.' The effort was correspondent to the belief, and
the success to the effort. Christians grew and multiplied,
and their very multiplication insured a fresh renewal of
their increase.  The primitive prolific blessing was upon
them, and one became a thousand." *
If the subject of these memoirs borrowed the hint from
the above passage, of which I have no evidence, it is very
clear that he has duly improved upon it. His discourse
exists but in the first rough draft, and appears therefore
under every disadvantage. I have not altered one sentence, and scarcely corrected even a word; yet with all these
drawbacks, it affords evidence that it is the production of a
master-mind. The argument is exceedingly ingenious, and
is sustained with a degree of ability and felicity of illustration, which reflects the highest credit on the powers of
the author. The simplicity of his own views of religion, and
the deep earnestness with which he pleads for the full
practical influence of Christianity are truly delightful.
How happy would it be for the individuals themselves,
for the church, and the world, did all who enter on




MEMOIR  OF JOHN URQUIHART.                  97
the office of the ministry feel the force of the high and
hallowed views which are here stated.
The references to natural religion, as it is called, contained in this discourse, induced me to introduce an essay
on that subject, which he wrote as a class exercise at the
close of this session.  The subject is one on which a great
deal of ignorance has been discovered, and a vast portion
of error propagated.  The religion of nature will, I fear,
go a very little way to inform the understanding, still less
to regulate the affections, and no way at all to satisfy
God, or pacify the conscience of a sinner.  W [hether unassisted reason is capable of accomplishing all that my
young friend, with many others, contends for, is not perfectly clear; but no one can doubt the admirable and
beautiful manner in which he conducts his own argument, and the justice which he does to the claims of the
revelation of God.*
From his correspondence I select the following letter to
a young friend, who was then about to sustain a severe
loss in his mother, a most amiable and eminently devoted
Christian. It is marked with much tenderness and faithfulness.
"ST. ANDREW'S, March 12, 1895.
" On looking over your last letter, the most important,
indeed the only intelligence it conveys, is an answer
(which I regret is such a painful one) to my inquiries
about your mother's health.  From what my father tells
me, I fear the worst, and I cannot help dreading you may
have lost her ere now.  At all events, from  the nature
and virulence of her disease, your hopes cannot be very
* See Appendix H.
9




98       MEMOIR  OF JOHN URQUHART.
sanguine. I am writing to one who has either just lost,
or who is every day expecting to lose, the dearest of all
earthly relatives; and in either case, I should feel I was
doing violence to all the finer feelings of our common
nature, did I indulge in a strain of writing that was light
or frivolous. There is something in the near view of death,
either prospectively or retrospectively, which solemnizes
the gayest heart, and disposes the most thoughtless to
serious reflection.  There is something in that tender sorrow which attends the death of one that is dear to us,
which, for a time, subdues the pride of the haughtiest,
and turns the eye of the most worldly, for a time, to heaven. If ever that spiritual blindness is removed, which
hides from our view all that is beyond the grave, it is,
when by the death of a near friend, we are led, as it were,
to the very outskirts of this world, and can thus take a
nearer view of that world which lies beyond it. You will
excuse me, then, if, in such circumstances, I call to your
remembrance, and press upon your attention, those sacred
precepts which your mother has often taught you, and of
which she herself has been a living exemplification. I
know the dislike of the young mind to religion; I have felt
it, but it is a dislike which should be fought against. I
know the alluring prospects of happiness which this world
holds out; but short, as has been my experience, I have
found that they are deceitful. I know the difficulty that
there is in standing out against the laugh and sneer of
young and gay and light-hearted companions; but, I can
assure you, that you will be enabled to bear it, and even
to rejoice under it. All that I wish you to do is, to consider the things of spirituality: if you but do this, your
belief will follow; and your joy, in believing, as a natural




MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUHIIART.                99
consequence. Perhaps your mother is yet lingering in
this world; if so, it is my prayer, that she may yet be restored to you.  But perhaps, even now, you are mourning
her loss; if so, it is my prayer, that your affliction may
send you to seek for consolation in the exercises of devotion. If this be the result of your trial, it will prove to
you a real blessing, and you will find you have exchanged
an earthly parent for an heavenly one."
It was towards the close of the session, he wrote for the
prize at the Moral Philosophy class, proposed by Dr.
Chalmers. It appears, that, till near the end of the term,
he had no intention of becoming a competitor, and that it
was not till within four or five days of the period fixed for
the giving in of the essays, that he set himself in good
earnest to the task.  To this, and several other subjects of importance he refers, in the following letter to his
father: -
"ST. ANDREW's, April 18, 1825.
e" MY DEAR FATHER - I am happy to be able to inform
you, that I did not speak at the meeting at Cupar, nor
ever had the slightest intention of doing so. I have been
intreated by some of our friends, and have been reproved
for want of zeal by others, because I did not come forward
and preach in the country, but I have withstood both intreaties and reproofs. Mr. Reid has been pressed into the
service, and even Mr. —, at the risk of being called to
an account by the Presbytery, preached one Sabbath at
Denino. I acknowledge that I have much higher ideas of
preaching  than  are generally entertained among our
brethren; and I do sincerely think, that it has been one
of the greatest evils (perhaps, for a time, a necessary one,)




100      MEMOIt  OF JOHIN URQUIIART,
in our system, to bring forward people to preach who were
not rightly qualified for this most imporlant of all engagements.  I think, from what you say in yours, you do not
seem to have a right idea of the prize essay which I said
I was writing.  Most perfectly do I agree with you, that
I stand no chance of gaining it; but, at the same time, I
should have thought it a breach of duty, and was.afraid it
mlight offend Dr. Chalmers, did I not give it in. They
were entirely motives of this nature, which induced me,
after I had burned an essay I had written, in order to
compete for the prize, to write another when the time was
almost run out.  I am sure you will not think me capable
of so much presumption, as to expect that a production,
which cost me only five days' labour, at spare hours, should
come into competition with those which have cost my competitors the continued application of four months.'" I feel sincerely grateful for your letter. It is exactly
what I need at present. I feel the praise which is of men,
to be one of the severest trials I can meet with, and to be
more especially the besetting temptation of an academic
career."
The modesty which formed a marked feature of his
character, is strongly indicated in this letter.  Though he
had been frequently urged to preach, and to speak at some
public meetings, he had decidedly refused to do so.  He
considered himself much too young to appear in public;
and in his ideas of preaching, I most fully concur. Those
who did not know him, might suppose there was something
of affectation in his intimations of having no expectation
of the prize.  But his friends at College, as well as myself,
are persuaded that this was really the state of his mind,
notwithstanding the effort which lie made.




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.                 101
"He was distinguished," says Mr. Duff " for a remarkable diffidence in his own abilities, uncommon though they
were.  An instance of this occurred during his second
session. The subject of a prize essay was proposed by
the Professor of Logic. Mr. Urquhart began to write the
essay, and brought it nearly to a close; when, upon reading it, he was so dissatisfied with its merits, that he threw
it into the fire.  HAe was, however, encouraged to renew
the attempt, and prosecuted the subject with vigour.  He
submitted the performance to a fellow-student, whose tried
abilities rendered him capable of estimating the talent with
which it was executed.  He was much struck with the
superior excellence of the essay, and strongly advised Mr.
Urquhart to give it to the Professor.  Notwithstanding
this encouragement, having once more read the essay himself, he was so much displeased with its execution, that he
burnt it without any hesitation."
The highest prize was assigned him for the essay composed under the circumstances adverted to in the letter to
his father.  The opinion of Dr. Chalmers is evident, from
his having awarded it, and from the sentence which he has
written upon the last page of the essay itself. In this
opinion, not only did the class in general concur, but even
those individuals from whom he had carried off the boon.*
Besides gaining the first prize at the Moral Philosophy
class, on the subject prescribed by the Professor; he
gained also the first prize for the best essay read in the
class.  HIe had also distinguished himself in the private
Greek class; and, indeed, in all the departments to which
he directed his attention. "In estimating his success,"
says a fellow-student, "it must be remembered, that there
9 *            * See Appendix I.




102      MEMOIR  OF JOHN URQUITART.
never was at St. Andrew's a more brilliant assemblage of
talent and of genius, attracted from all parts of the kingdom, by the fame of Dr. Chalmers, than there was during
the session of 1824-25."  In this opinion, it will be seen
from Dr. Chalmers's letter, how fully he concurs.
Perhaps I cannot do better than introduce, at the conclusion of the course of Moral Philosophy, the account of
him, with which I have been favoured by another of his
fellow-students, and a competitor along with him for the
prize.  It contains some traits of character worthy of
being preserved, and besides showing the estimate which
was formed of him by others, is highly creditable to the
talents, and still more the generous feelings of a fellowcandidate.  It is not necessary that I should subscribe to
every sentiment which it expresses; but the description is,
on the whole, correct and faithful: -
" The seeds of talent, wherever they were sown, could
not fail to spring up under the fostering eloquence of Dr.
Chalmers. His enthusiasm, intense, and almost approaching to juvenile extravagance, communicated its ardour to
every mind that could appreciate his bold and original
speculations in moral an(d political philosophy, or could he
animated by the eloquence with which they were illustrated and enforced.  Mr. Urquhart caught, in common
with his fellow-students, the contagion of the example,
which emanated from the chair. The activity of his mind
was awakened, and the veneration which he entertained
for the character, and admiration of the genius of his professor, were the strongest motives to exert his own. I
remember well the impression which his first essay made
upon his class-fellows, and the flattering, though merited
approbation it received from his professor.  lIe began in




MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART.   103
a low, timid, faltering voice, shrinking from the silent and
fixed attention of a public display, till by degrees his voice
assumed a firmer tone, and when he closed it was not
without animation and feeling. As his unpretending manners, and his previous public examinations, had given but
little promise of his talents, the triumph was the more
complete, as it was unexpected. Not to feel vain or proud
of the distinction which literary eminence confers, is a
modesty of nature but rarely found, even among those who
have been longest accustomed to the homage of the public.
To a young man, though the sphere in which his merits
are displayed is narrower, yet the novelty of the feeling,
combined with the gentler sensibility of his mind, renders
the impression irresistible.  It is, perhaps, the proudest
moment of his life, when he is first commended for his
literary acquirements, his taste, or his promise of future
talent.  That Mr. Urquhart was insensible to this praise,
would be saying too much.  Such an indifference would
have proved rather a want of feeling, than an absence of
vanity.  But whatever secret pleasure he may have felt,
it was betrayed by no assumed airs of consequence or
pride.  Those who were attracted by his talents were not
repelled by his vanity.  lie levied no contribution of
admiration from his friends, as a tax to his merit; and as
no one could be less disposed to gratify others at the expense of truth, so none was ever less solicitous of flattery.
In his intercourse with his fellow-students, there was a
total absence of all ostentation or pretension. No one
was forced in his presence upon the disagreeable conviction of his own inferiority, so that without any of the arts
of pleasing, or those popular qualities that attract general
favour, he had made manay friends, but no enemies.  Few




104      MEMOIR  OF JOHN URQUIHART.
fancied they saw in him  a rival to their own ambitious
hopes; and when he crossed the path, and gained the hill
in advance, it was with so noiseless a step, and with so
little show of a triumph, that he either escaped the vigilance of his competitors, or they pardoned his success for
the manner in which it was obtained.  What they might
imagine themselves entitled to, for their superior talents,
they willingly resigned to his virtue.  Indeed, a little
observation of the world shows, and the remark is applicable to every period of life, that men are more easy under
a defeat than a triumph, and that the prosperous might
enjoy their success without envy, if they had the prudence
to conceal it. Not that by this reflection we mean to resolve Mr. Urquhart's modesty into a refinement of selfishness.  His conduct was equally remote from that haughtiness, which is one of the forms of pride; and from that
affectation of humility, which is often the same passion
under a new disguise. Nature in him had not learned to
conceal her feelings, and still less to assume those which
did not belong to her. Reserved without pride, and grave
beyond his years, without any mixture of severity, he
avoided the promiscuous society of his class-mates, not
from any feeling of superiority, but partly from the timidity
of his disposition, and from a want of sympathy in their
ordinary sports and conversation.
"'Concourse and noise, and toil, he ever fled.'
"This disposition was as beautifully illustrated as the
action was characteristic of his modesty, in his conduct on
that day in which the prizes were distributed, at the close
of the session, and of which he was to bear away some of
the most distinguished and honourable. While the more




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.               105
ambitious and showy youths, had selected a distant station
in the hall, that they might advance to the spot where the
prizes were distributed, through a line of admiring spectators, Mr. Urquhart had shrunk unobserved into the corner
iof a window, near to the seat of the Professors, and no
sooner was his name announced, than he had again drawn
back and disappeared. There was scarce time to put the
usual inquiry of who he was, when a new candidate for
attention was summoned.  The same simple, unostentatious manner, and aversion to display, which appear in
this action, was the result of his general habits and feelings, and not of singular or accidental occurrence. It was
in consistence with the other parts of his conduct. No
one knew when Mr. Urquhart entered or retired from his
class.  He had no circle of literary dependents who
crowded around him, to receive his philosophical dicta, or
his canons of criticism. Yet, to those who observed him,
there was something in his appearance in the class, singular and interesting.    e I9 had an awkward habit of biting
his nails, a practice in him not disagreeable, it was so
much of a piece with the simplicity of his look. His head
generally inclined to one side, and as he sat it was supported by his arm. This was his usual position while
listening to the lecture. As Dr. Chalmers's animation increased, Mr. Urquhart gradually elevated his head, and
when he rose into eloquence, you would have seen his arm
drop by his side, and his eye steadfastly fixed, looking the
orator broad in the face.  I know not whether IDr. Chalmers marked these changes in the attitude of his pupil;
but if he had, they would have afforded no inaccurate test
of the degree to which his eloquence had risen. These
incidents are of little value in themselves, but they will




106     MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART.
convey more truth and effect than any description of the
disposition and manners of Mr. Urquhart.
"Of his intellectual character, the most distinguished
feature, I would say, was a sound understanding; more
clear and judicious, however, than either subtle or comprehensive.  Endowed with a mind thoughtful and considerate, he adopted none of the rash speculations and
dazzling paradoxes which so often delude the inquirer of
his age. Temperate and cautious in the exercise of his
own judgment, he was the less disposed to receive the
unripe and hasty inventions of others. In a conversational society of his fellow-students, for the discussion of
the opinions on moral and political philosophy, that were
delivered from the chair, Mr. Urquhart took an intelligent
and sometimes active part. The subjects were intricate,
and did not admit of an easy flow of conversation. But,
such as they were, Mr. Urquhart, when he hazarded his
sentiments, generally spoke with clearness and precision.
Profound remarks exhibiting mature knowledge and previous speculative habits, were neither required on such an
occasion, nor expected. Plain and natural in his turns of
thought, and not venturing beyond what he understood,
he escaped those unintelligible extravagances into which
more fearless thinkers on intricate subjects not unfrequently fall. If he was unsuccessful in communicating
new instruction by his remarks, he pleased from the simplicity with which he expressed ideas that were familiar;
and every one eagerly invited and listened with pleasure
to Mr. Urquhart as he spoke. There was an air of candour and truth in whatever he said, and the modesty with
which he urged his opinions, was only surpassed by the
readiness and good nature with which he retracted them




MEMOIR  OF JoHN  URQUIHART.              107
when convinced of his error.  His name will not soon be
forgotten by the members of that society of which, if he
was not the brightest ornament by his talent, none was
more beloved.
" In his class essays, which, I believe, were among his
first attempts at regular composition, there was a correctness of taste, felicity of illustration, and perspicuity in the
arrangement of his thoughts, such as is rarely to be found
in the early efforts of the juvenile pen. There is often an
irregular exuberance in the productions of youthful talent,
which it requires years of study to prune into form. The
crop of Mr. Urquhart's imagination, if less luxuriant than
many, was more free from tares, and more beautiful in its
growth.  He never blundered into a conceit or extravagance in search of ornament. His mind rested rather
upon the broad analogies of things, and converted them
into illustrations of his subjects, than upon those nice and
secret resemblances which wit discloses in unexpected aliusions and metaphors.  It was imagination rather than
fancy, which he possessed.  Though he enjoyed the
humour and lighter attempts at wit, of his companions,
yet these were fields into which he seldom strayed.  His
excellencies consisted not in brilliant ornaments of style,
or in the higher flights of imagination; but in illustrations
happily conceived, and closely incorporated with his subject. The same simplicity, which was the charm of his
manners, and the prevailing feature in his character, was
the grace of his compositions. So chaste, and yet so
young, was a union of circumstances so rare, that it opened
prospects the most sanguine, of future excellence, when
his mind should be enriched by knowledge, and disciplined
by cultivation."




108       ME MOIR  OF JOHN  URtQUHART.
CHAPTER IV.
Introductory observations -John's return home at the end of his
third session - Letter respecting his going to some of the Dissenting Academies -Letter illustrative of his state of mind -Letters
-His employments during the vacation - Letter to Mr. Craik -
Htis visit to London - Mr. Adam's account of him at this time -
Letters to his father- Engagements during the winter —Letters
to a friend - Letter to his brother - Letter to his mother -- Letter
to a friend - Letter to Mr. Orme - Opposition of his friends to his
Missionary devotedness -- Mr. Duff's account of him - Testiinonies to his literary attainments -Mr. Alexander's account of
him -- Dr. Chalmers' certificate.
THERE  are few  things which put the character and
principles of a young man more to the test than a classical and University education.  HIe who passes through
this ordeal unhurt, has reason to bless the gracious and
powerful influences of the divine Spirit.  I do not refer at
present to the levity of youth, and to the snares of those
associations which belong to the state of society in Colleges and classical schools.  The danger of infection from
the moral atmosphere is, indeed, great. [But there are
dangers of a different kind, arising out of the studies which
chiefly engross the attention, and their powerful, but unperceived influence upon the mind.
The investigations of philology and grammar, though
important in themselves, and absolutely necessary as the
basis of all correct knowledge, are dry, and often tiresome. The memory is loaded with words and forms of




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQTJHART.               109
expression, which tend no doubt, to exercise and strengthen
it; but do not tend much to the moral benefit of the mind.
MThlen from these the scholar passes on to the more elegant stud(ies of the Greek and Roman classics, or even to
the polite literature of our own country, how little does he
find at all calculated to promote his spiritual welfare!
This is not saying enough: how much does he meet with,
the tendency of which is positively injurious! The fascinations thrown around vice, the halo of glory with which
sin itself is frequently invested, cannot be viewed often,
and with great intensity, without damage. The individual
who gives his days and nights to the poets and orators of
Greece and Rome, must be more than man if he escapes
without hurt to his spiritual feelings and principles.
The influence of the exact sciences, and of experimental
philosophy, though of a different nature, is still hazardous
to a mind which has not arrived at maturity.  The absolute certainty of mathematical demonstration, and the sure
results of algebraic formula, produce a habit which has
proved in many instances very unfavourable to the due
appreciation of moral evidence.  And the processes of
chemistry, and the experiments of physical science, have
not been always productive of an increased veneration for
the great Spirit who presides over, and pervades all the
operations of the universe.
I wish to speak of results, rather than to assign reasons
for those results. Whether the evils and dangers referred
to are to be ascribed to the weakness and depravity of
our nature, or to the imperfections of the systems of education, which are generally adopted, or to both together,
does not alter the state of the fact, that our youth cannot
receive'hat is considered a finished education, without
10




110      MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.
sustaining a very formidabhle trial. 1H-ow few comparatively can pass through a College, or even an academy,
to the work of the ministry, without experiencing a diminution or loss of their spiritual vigour!
To frame a system of education, which would avoid the
greater number, or most of the evils, would be a service
of incalculable value to the world. ]But I doubt whether
human wisdom, under existing circumstances, is competent
to the task.  It is no difficult matter to furnish expurgated editions of the classics, and to produce family Gibbons, and family Shakspeares; and those attempts at
purifying the foul stream of classical instruction are not
to be despised. But while so large a portion of time and
thought must be expended in these pursuits, and while a
capacity for relishing the beauties, whether of the ancient
or the modern classics, is rated so high, I fear that the
chief source of the evil will still remain.
The principle on which most systems of education are
constructed, is the relation which certain attainments bear
to certain temporal advantages. The problem on which
they are all founded is, How may an individual, at the
least expense, be best fitted to conduct a family, to teach
a congregation, to manage a counting-house, or to guide
the state? I do not say these are not important questions;
they are important, and they are the only questions which
the world can ever ask and determine. But surely there
are other questions which Christians might be expected to
consider.  Do not the relations which the pursuits and
attainments of time bear to eternity, demand their consideration?  Ought what can have little tendency to promote men's interests beyond this world, what in many
instances injures those interests, to be the first subject of




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.                 111
consideration?  Is it quite impossible to frame a system
of education, in which all the lines may be brought to
unite, in forming the intellectual and moral powers of man,
for a state of inmmnortal enjoyment?  A system  in which
every branch shall be deemed important, chiefly as it
bears on his eternal condition! A system in which what
is showy and superficial, shall be rejected, or thrown into
the shade; and what is substantial and useful placed in
the fore-ground? A system in which taste shall be less an
object than character, and intellect be made subservient
to morals? A system in short, which shall have the principles of Christianity for its basis, the advancement of
Christianity for its object, and the rewards of Christianity
for its end?
I do not conceive such a system to belong only to a region
in Utopia. It is perfectly conceivable; but before it can
be realized, we must be furnished not only with new principles, but with new men to inculcate them, and with a
different state of society to secure their operation. Many
as are the evils which we still deplore, much progress has
been made during the last thirty years; and before a
similar period shall have passed away, it is not too much
to expect that the strides of society towards a better state
will be still more gigantic.
As the present work may fall into the hands of some
who are engaged in conducting seminaries, I hope I shall
be forgiven this seeming digression.  Considering how
many of our youth are seriously injured in the training,
how many bitter regrets are afterwards experienced, even
by those who do not suffer permanent injury; and how few
escape altogether without damage, I can scarcely be required to offer an apology for these remarks.  Indeed,




112      MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUJHIART.
though the subject of these memoirs retained his integrity,
and passed through his studies without blemish, I know
from himself, and from his fellow-students, that "he retained," (I use his own language) "a deep horror of St.
Andrew's."  He meant, I am sure, no reflection on the
place, none on the Professors, and none on his fellowstudents.  But he considered it marvellous that he got
through his academical course without ruin to his soul.
In this preservation he was led to admire the exceeding
riches of divine grace; but it must appear very extraordinary, that a Christian University should expose its disciples to such hazards.  The fact is, the profession is
Christian, but the entire process of education is pagan, or
anti-Christian. Religion, instead of being the first, the
last, and the main object, is subordinate to every other
object.  The minds both of professors and students, are
absorbed in science and literature, as the chief objects of
pursuit; and religion, when attended to, is examined
rather as one of the sciences, than as the doctrine of God
and the path of immortality.  While this system is pursued, it is not wonderful that the atmosphere of Colleges
should generally be unfavourable to the vitality of Christianity.
Our last chapter brought the subject of these memoirs
to the conclusion of the third year of his University course,
and the seventeenth of his age. To him it had been a
year of great interest, and great exertion.  In it he had
acquired a large portion of celebrity among his associates,
and what was more, he had laid the foundation of some
of his most interesting plans of usefulness. We shall now
endeavour to trace his spiritual and intellectual progress
to the close of his short but useful life.




MEMOIR  OF JOHIN  URQUHAIRT.            113
Returning home at the end of the session, after visiting
E(liburgh, laden, not with wealth, but "'with honours
bravely won," he still appeared the same modest, unpretending youth. His mind was fully occupied with the importance of the Christian ministry, and especially with
the necessities and claims of the heathen world.  I had
the opportunity of seeing a good deal of him during the
month of June, which I spent at Perth, and had then
many conversations with him about his future plans.  I
saw the direction of his mindl, and was satisfied what would
be the issue; but, from his extreme youth, being then only
seventeen, I urged upon him the necessity of taking more
time to consider the subject, especially as his father and
mother were both exceedingly averse to his going abroad.
I advised him, as there were then some difficulties in the
way of his returning to St. Andrew's, rather to apply to
be received into some one of the Dissenting academies at
home; knowing, that, if his mind still continued to be set
uponr the heathen world, the opportunity of gratifying his
wishes would not be lost. With this advice he complied,
and accordingly addressed a letter to the Committee of the
Hioxton Academy, requesting to be received into that
institution.  EHis reasons for adopting this line of procedure are well stated in the following letter to his friend
Mr. C)'
"PERTH, June, 1825.
"A few days ago I sat down to write you, and wrote
about eight pages, which, I thought, with the addition of
a few sentences, at present, would make out a pretty respectable epistle. - A few days, however, often make a
great change in our feelings and our prospects; and I
10'




114     M]EMOIR  OF JOHIN UTRQUItARTo
perceive, on looking over the pages I have written, that
they are quite unfit for sending at present.  The last time
I sat down, I wrote, with the full expectation of soon enjoying again the company of my dear friends at St. Andrew's; and I write now under the impression that my lot
may soon be cast in a distant part of the island. Mr.
Adam perhaps, told you that  Mr. Ovrme is here at preseut
on a visit to us. He is a man with whom I have been on
the most intimate terms from my very infancy, and one
who has ever taken a deep interest, both in my spiritual
and temporal welfare. Since ever I have felt anything
of the power of religion, I have been accustomed to look
to him as my father in Christ, and have ever felt the most
perfect confidence in making known to him all my designs
and feelings. Last winter I wrote to him expressing my
views respecting missions, and my thoughts of devoting
myself to this department of the Christian ministry. Since
Mr. Orme's arrival in Scotland I have had much conversation with him on this subject, and have received a good
deal of information respecting matters in the metropolis.
There are some opportunities of instruction in oriental
languages to be enjoyed at present in London, which, if
neglected now, may be lost for ever. Dr. Morrison remains for a year only, to give directions about the study
of Chinese; and Mr. Townley remains, it is not certain
how long, to teach some of the more important of the
Indian languages. Another session, at one of the Scotch
Universities, although it might be attended with several
very considerable advantages, does not seem to counterbalance the opportunities I have hinted at. I can, in a
letter, state the reasons which actuate me in this matter
only in a very general way. It is not likely, should I go




MEMo IR OF JOHN  URQUIIART.              115
to London this summer, that I shall engage with the Missionary Society immediately, but rather that I shall enter
one of our Dissenting academies, where I shall be able to
carry on my general studies at the same time that I have
an opportunity of prosecuting the study of the eastern
languages. On the whole, I feel in considerable perplexity
how to act. I need not tell you that all my feelings are
in favour of St. Andrew's, but, I honestly think, duty
seems to point in another direction.  Mr. Adam seems to
agree in thinking it my duty to go to London. I have
made this matter, for a considerable time, a subject of
constant prayer; and I propose setting apart a day for the
solemn consideration of the whole matter, and for the purpose of asking direction from on high.  May I entreat an
interest in your prayers? These are the circumstances in
which we feel most the privilege of a free access to the
Father of our spirits; and these are the times when our
belief in the revealed declarations of his character, and of
his will, come to be tried; and when, if that belief be found
real, the revelation of God's character can give the greatest
consolation and joy."
With his application the Committee were much pleased,
and would have readily acceded to it; but he was rather
too young to be received into the house, which was besides,
for that period, already full. He was therefore requested
to wait for a year, at the expiration of which they would
be glad to hear from him again. In consequence of this
failure he requested to be admitted into the Glasgow
Academy, under the tuition of my respected friends, the
Rev. Greville Ewing, and the Rev. Dr. Wardlaw.  After
some hesitation on the part of the Committee of that In



116      MEI:MOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.
stitution, on the ground of his having devoted himself to
foreign service, they agreed to receive him. But circumstances changed a little, and it appeared desirable that he
should return to St. Andrew's to complete his academical
course.
How his mind was exercised in regard to these things
will, in part, appear from some of his letters: —
" PERTII July 8, 1825.
" MY VERY DEAR FRIEND - An opportunity is afforded
me, by Mir. Machray, of answering your interesting letter,
which I am glad to embrace.  After you left us, I had a
good deal of conversation with my friends, on the subject
of my destination; and, having set apart a day for the
solemn consideration of the matter, and imploring divine
direction, I came to the resolution of making application
to Hoxton Academy. The issue of that application determines me to remain another year in Scotland. I received
an answer from Mr. Wilson, this week, informing me that
the vacancies were all filled for the ensuing session; but
that, if I could profitably employ my time for a year, they
would have room next year, and better accommodation, as
they expect to enter on their new College. In connection
with this matter, I have been led to consider more attentively those passages of Scripture, which refer to missionary exertions, and the result has been a deeper impression
than ever, of the duty of engaging in this work. It is
very true, that much has to be done at home; that there
are many here, as my friend Craik writes, who' can only
be considered in the light of more criminal heathens.'
But this is a wilful ignorance: they are not'perishing for
lack of knowledge.' And this argument, if carried to its




MEMOIR OF JOH-N  URQUHART.               117
full extent, would stifle missionary exertions to the very
end of the world. What would have been the consequence,
had the apostles resolved not to leave Jerusalem, till every
one of their brethren, according to the flesh, was truly converted? The Gentiles would not have received the glad
tidings of salvation to the present hour. This was not
the commandment the apostles received, however; and,
accordingly, they acted in a very different manner. They
were to preach the gospel to all nations, beginning at
Jerusalem.  The nation of the Jews had a claim upon the
first preachers of Christianity, which our countrymen have
not upon us. They were not only their' brethren according to the flesh,' but they were also God's chosen nation;
and, as such, it was right that they should enjoy a preeminence over all others, in first receiving the proclamation of pardon. But, how did their brethren, the apostles,
act even to this favoured nation?   They made a full
declaration of salvation, through Christ; they made a free
tender of the mercy of Jehovah; but, by almost all, this
mercy was slighted and rejected. By thus sinning against
greater light, these individuals became more criminal even
than the heathen. Did the apostles, therefore, think that
they should not go forth to the heathen, till all these rejecters of the truth were convinced of the error of their
ways?  No; that very rejection of the gospel, by their
countrymen, was a signal for their departure.'Seeing
ye reject, &c., behold we turn to the Gentiles.' Had the
gospel been proclaimed, in like manner, to all other nations, the apostles would have felt it their duty to have
laboured assiduously among their brethren at home. But
while there remained a single nation on the face of -the
earth, that had not received the knowledge of salvation,




118      MEIOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.
they felt that the parting commandment of their Master
was not yet fully obeyed; and, while they lived, they made
it their business, more and more fully to execute that command.  But their missionary spirit died with them; and,
at the present hour, that commandment remains still unobeyed.  Is it difficult, in this case, to see the path of
duty?  Besides, I cannot see, that by preaching at home,
we are hastening the coming glory of the church. God
has promised, that all shall know him.  He has not promised that all shall serve him.  On the contrary, he has
said, that he will gather his people out of every nation,
kindred, tongue, and people; which, evidently implies,
that all shall not be his people. Far be it from me to
depreciate the work of the ministry at home. It is a most
important work. But still, while there are any sitting in
darkness and the shadow of death, it must yield in importance to the missionary field. Besides, who can tell what
an effect our neglect of God's commandment, to preach to
all nations, may have, in causing him to withhold his Spirit
from the exertions of Christians at home? I must abruptly
conclude. I was struck with the variety of incidents in your
last. Let us contemplate much, my dear friend, the grand
operations of God to our world; and, let us thus learn to
feel our own insignificance, and to merge every selfish
consideration in the great work to which we are called."
The progress of his religious sentiments and feelings,
the following letters will show.
The first is the letter alluded to, in that to his friend
CI, already inserted.  It is too valuable to be omitted.
"' MY VERY DEAR FRIEND - The receipt of your interesting communication, and of a note from my friend, Mr.




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUIHART.             119
Tait accompanying a treatise on Confessions of Faith,
have been among the most remarkable events in my history, since I wrote last; they have, at least, been almost
the only varieties that have broken the regularity and
sameness of a ceaseless routine of occupations, repeated
with little change or interruptions, day after day. Not
that I am displeased, or wearied of my retirement, for I
esteem it as a very great privilege. But I preface my
letter thus, merely to remind you, that though you, who
are a public character, and are surrounded by all the
bustle and variety of numerous avocations, have such a
body of interesting matter to communicate, that you pant
for utterance in the expression of it; and one subject leading to another, the stream of information so enlarges as
you go along that the very sheets of paper seem to have
foreseen its rising magnitude, and, aware of what was
coming, to have extended their dimensions, in proportion
as the fund of your information increased — I say, though
this be the case with you, you must remember that it is
very different with a solitary recluse, who has no companions but his books, (with most of whom you are better
acquainted than himself,) and scarcely any engagements
but his private studies. But a truce to this trifling. I
must proceed to answer your very interesting letter.  We
may, sometimes, draw illustrations of spiritual things from
the most ordinary occurrences in life; and they are not,
on that account, the less striking. Your feelings expressed
in the beginning of your letter, with respect to your correspondence, struck me as a good illustration of the nature
and operation of faith.  You knew something of the
character of a fellow-creature, as much, you thought, as to
entitle you to rely upon his veracity. You knew, how



120      MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUHART.
ever, that he was fallible, and subject to change; and yet,
on this previous knowledge of his character, you confidently expected the fulfilment of a promise he had made
to you.  The time of its fulfilment came, however, and it
seemed to you to have been broken. You were'perplexed
to account for his silence.' You tried to account for it by
some expressions of regret he had used, that he had made
the engagement; but you did not think this a sufficient
explanation of his failing to perform it. Now, what was
it that made you think, even in the face of existing circumstances, that your friend might have performed his
promise? It was your faith in his veracity, founded on
the previous manifestations of his character which you had
observed.  Now, let us compare this, or rather, let us
contrast it with our faith in the promises of God. Instead
of an imperfect guessing at his character, from displays
of it, which might generally correspond with what we
think its leading characteristics, but which sometimes
speak in direct opposition to them; all the manifestations
of the divine character we have ever beheld, have been in
perfect harmony with each other, all going to establish
the grand truths, that the' Lord is good;' that' the Judge
of all the earth will do rightly:' and, above all, to demonstrate almost from the very nature of the divine existence,
that'with him there is no variableness or shadow of turning;' that he is a God who cannot lie. Now is it not very
strange, that with these, so sure grounds for implicit confidence, our faith in the divine goodness and faithfulness
is so weak, as to permit our being perplexed by any of the
dispensations of his providence, however dark and discouraging? You will remark, that this very perplexity is an
indication of a certain degree of faith; it is a struggling




MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUHA rA T.              121
between our confidence in the individual, and the circumstances around us which seem to impeach his character.
If this circumstantial proof be very strong, then the perplexity indicates a very strong degree of confidence, to
enable us to resist the conviction of this strong circumstantial proof.  But though, in these circumstances, perplexity does indicate a very strong degree of faith; yet it,
at the same time, indicates an imperfection of faith.  It
may require very strong faith to stand in the combat
against a very strong enemy: but perfect confidence would
do more, it would overthrow the enemy, it would gain the
victory. But perplexity implies, that this is not the case.
It implies suspense.  It implies that we have not come
to a decision. It implies that the combat is yet doubtful; that the victory has not yet been gained. Now
is it not strange that our faith in a creature, weak as are
the grounds of it, should carry us so far?  And that
strong as are the foundations of our confidence in God, it
does not carry us further? - that the one should carry us
so far as to land us in perplexity; that the other should
not carry us so far as to extricate us from perplexity? Oh!
mny friend, were we but deeply impressed with a sense of
God's all-sufficiency, how much of our unhappiness would
be taken away! There would be no murmuring at the
dispensations of Providence; there would be no regret on
reflecting on the past, but the regret that we had ever departed from God; there would be no fear, on looking forward to the future, but the fear lest we might again break
his commandments.  Sin itself, from which we can never
be wholly freed in this world, would still remain to trouble
us; but all those sources of misery which indirectly spring
from it would be removed. And by a continual depend11




122      M.E MO IR OF JOHN URQUTARtT.
ence on God, and confidence in him, the power even of
sin itself would be continually weakening within us. The
firm belief, that God was working in us both to will and
to do of his good pleasure, would encourage us to work out
with fear and trembling, that part of our salvation which
yet remains, even our deliverance from the power of sin.
Connected with this subject, that is a striking passage,
6 alk thou before me, and be thou perfect.'
"But I am awakened from this long reverie, by perceiving that it is near our dinner hour. I sat down in
despondency, thinking I should find nothing to say; and
resolved by way of making matter, to write a commentary
on your epistle. I believe I shall make out pretty well in
respect of quantity, if I paraphrase the whole of it at as
great length as I have done these first few first sentences.
" PERTH,
"MY DEAR F'-   I take the liberty of writing
these few lines, in answer to yours. We were glad to hear
of your safe arrival, but were sorry to see the same depression spread over your letter, which we had formerly
lamented to behold in yourself. You do not say anything
particular about the state of your health; we trust, however, that the change of place, and the bustle and excitement of travelling may have (partly at least) removed
your nervousness.  Circumstances, indeed, seem  to be
very depressing.  But we, my dear -, have consolations that should bear us up, and even make us glad under
the severest calamities.  That climax of misfortune, so
beautifully described by the prophet, in the verses,'Though the fig-tree shall not blossom,' &c., has not yet
by any means come upon us; and shall our hearts refuse
to join in his triumphant expression of gladness,'Yet




MEMOIR OF JOHIN UR QUIIART.              123
will I rejoice in the Lord, and joy in the God of my salvation?' We have a still surer word of prophecy than that
which he was instrumental in delivering.  We have a
surer light to guide our footsteps, and brighter promises
to cheer us on our journey. And shall we repine, when
all is comparatively smooth and even before us?  When
we see our way before us and can perceive no difficulty to
oppose our progress, we do not need to call into exercise
our trust in the promises of God; we do not walk by faith,
but by sight. But it is where our way is dark, and there
seems to be a lion in the path, that we feel our weakness.
It is then that our faith in his promises is put to the test,
who hath said,'Lo, I am with you always.' Is it not
strange, that we can believe such promises of support and
succour as are written on every page of the Bible, and
ever feel discouraged or perplexed? Such a belief, were
it perfect, would transform even this world, with all its
trials and afflictions, into heaven.  Such a faith, however,
is unattainable, while we are wedded to a body of corruption, and exposed to the malicious suggestions of the
adversary. But though this faith cannot be altogether
attained, yet it may be approached to, of which we have
some most triumphant proofs in the history of the people
of God. But I must stop short."
"PERTIH, July, -.
"MY DEAR C —: It now seems, I think, determined,
that I may yet entertain the hope of spending another
winter with my dear friends in St. Andrew's; and, as
matters have turned out, I feel almost sorry that I did
not confine within my own breast, those painful feelings,
which the prospect of parting naturally excites. I-lad the




124     MEMOIR  OF JOHIN URQUHART.
matter been determined otherwise, however, it might have
seenled unfriendly and self-willed to have asked no aid in
the decision of it from the counsels and prayers of my
Christian friends. As it is, the decision is not mine, but
has chiefly been determined by circumstances over which
I had no control; but which have, I trust, been graciously
ordered by him who is the God of providence, and who
has promised that all things shall work together for our
good, if we put our trust in him. In considering what
might be the path of duty in this matter, I was a good
deal perplexed.  Had I not thought at all of engaging in
the work of missions, I should not have doubted, that I
ought to finish my course at St. Andrew's before entering
a Theological Academy. And, on the other hand, had I
come to the determination of devoting myself to that work,
(especially with the views I have of China as a field of
labour,) I should not have hesitated to present my services
to the Missionary Society, at present, and thus avail myself of the advantages of personal intercourse with Dr.
Morrison.  Neither of these was the case, however. It is
now about a year since, I thought seriously of personally
labouring in the foreign department of the Christian ministry; and although, at a more advanced period of life,
twelve months' consideration and prayer might seem sufficient for determining a question even of this importance;
yet you will perceive, that my extreme youth altogether
alters the case. If my wish to preach the gospel of Christ
among the heathen, have in it aught of the romance of a
boyish imagination, a few years' thought and experience
will extinguish its ardor; but if the Lord has appointed
me to declare his name to the Gentiles, and that wish has
been implanted in my breast by the Spirit of God, delays
and disappointments will but foster its growth and make




MEMOIR  OF JoHIN  URQUIART.              125
it yet more vigorous. For these reasons, I could not feel
it my duty to make a direct application to the Missionary
Society, to study in London under their superintendence.
But, on the other hand, the facilities of acquiring oriental
languages, which the metropolis presents at present, and
which are very uncertain in their continuance, make me
anxious to be in London, if possible. After considering
the matter in all these points of view, consulting my friends.
here, and asking counsel and direction from  the Most
High, it seemed to me my duty to make application to
Hoxton Academy, which is intended chiefly for the home
department, but which sometimes also receives missionary
students. This step, you see, had it been taken, would
have given me all the advantages I could wish from an
immediate residence in the capital, and yet have left my
future destination still a matter of consideration and
prayer.  The letter I received from the Secretary of the
Hoxton Committee, in answer to my application, satisfies
me as to the duty of remaining another year in Scotland.
Had I not made this application, I might have looked
back with regret on the opportunities I had neglected;
but as it is, my conscience is satisfied in having done
what I thought was my duty; and those feelings are also
gratified, which I had to struggle with, in the performance
of that duty.  Excuse me, my dear friend, for having
dwelt so long on this subject.  I am sorry that I have
spent so much time, that I have little remaining to answer
your very interesting and affecting letter."
"lPERTI, September, 1825.
"M'  Y DEAR FRIEND- I do not know whether debts of
kindness, like other debts, admit of being regularly
11*




126      MEMOIR OF JOHtN UR QUHIART.
summed up in a debtor and credit column, and balanced
against each other.  If so, though you confessed the
balance due to me in your last, I fear your punctuality and
my negligence have more than reversed the matter, and I
am now much deeper in your debt than ever you have
been in mine. I will not attempt to offer apologies. I
might, I believe, conscientiously spin out some that would
appear feasible, but I am always suspicious of the sincerity of a man's sorrow who expresses great contrition
for a fault he has committed, which, at the same time, he
labours with all his might to extenuate by every trifling
excuse that can, or scarcely can be alleged for it. I have
been negligent; you will forgive me; and there the matter
must rest. I was much struck with the spirit of earnest
affection and fervent piety that pervaded your last; and
the account you give of the employment of your leisure
hours sufficiently explains the greater vividness of your
spiritual affections. There is a beautiful action and reaction of our religious feelings and actions upon each other;
grace, shown to us by God, prompts us to deeds of charity
to our fellow-men; and these deeds, all-imperfect and even
displeasing to God, as they must be in themselves from
the sin that mingles with the purest of them, are again
rewarded by a fresh supply of the favour of our God, which
must again lead to deeds of yet more extended benevolence, which are again to meet with a richer reward from
the inexhaustible resources of Almighty goodness. It is
thus, that he who waters others is watered himself; and
of such an individual John Bunyan's paradoxical lines are
strikingly true:
"'A man there was, though some did count him mad,
The more he cast away, the more he had.'




MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUHART.                127
I say not these things to flatter you. Even where the
richest rewards are given for the most indefatigable labours
of love, we must ever remember that no reward is deserved,
and the individual should be ready to exclaim, with him
who was instant in season and out of season in the duties
of his office, and who was conscious that his labours were
more abundant than those of any of his brethren,'Yet
not I, but the grace of God that was with me.' I thank
you for your very kind admonitions on my weakness of
faith. It has much to struggle with in a heart that is but
partially renewed; I fear very much that unsanctified confidence which is the most fearful temptation with which
the adversary can assail us; a confidence that sin cannot
damp; a confidence that, in some cases, the approach of
death itself will not destroy, but which will lead its possessor to the very gate of heaven and will only be dispelled when the fearful response is given,'I never knew
you, depart from me ye workers of iniquity.' Then he
who has been deceived by its delusive whispers of'peace,
peace, when there was no peace,' shall exclaim in the very
paroxysm of astonishment and despair,'The harvest is
past, the summer is ended, and I am not saved!' The
consideration of such a case as this, should make us'examine ourselves, whether we be in the faith.' It is true,
that, if we look to ourselves for comfort, we shall never
obtain it; but, it is equally true, that, if the gospel is not
to us the spring of holiness as well as the source of our
comfort,'we are deceiving ourselves and the truth is not
in us.' We must not dread the discovery that we have
been making little progress, or even that we have been
pursuing a retrograde motion in the Christian course; nor
must we smother every emotion of insecurity and danger




128      MEM O IlR OF JOHN URQUHIEART,
that may rise on such a review. True, we must not cherish
such emotions, and rest in them till they lead us to despair.
They must lead us anew to the blood of sprinkling. That
which gave consolation when all we could look back upon
was an unbroken course of rebellion, will give consolation
still; and it is only by such a process, I conceive, that
true comfort can be obtained."
During the summer months, besides teaching a Sabbathschool in the neighbourhood of Perth, and keeping his
meeting with the young men once a week for conversation
on the Scriptures, he diligently pursued his studies and a
course of reading.  From  some memoranda among his
papers, I find that he kept a regular account of every
day's employment. It commences on the 12th of May,
on which day he arrived at his father's.  It then lays
dlown the following plan of study and occupation for the
future: " To rise at seven o'clock; Greek Testament till
eight; walk till nine; breakfast between nine and ten;
Hlebrew Psalms till eleven; Mathematics till twelve;
French till one; Greek till two; English reading till
three; dinner, three to four; Latin, four to six; tea, six
to seven.  Walk," &c.
At the end of September is the following summary of
his occupations for the preceding months: "' Greek Testament, 7Matthew to the Epistle to the Romans.  Revised
one hundred and eighty-four pages of Hebrew Grammar.
Read forty verses of Hebrew Psalms. Revised six books
of Euclid's Elements; one hundred and twenty pages of
Bridge's Algebra; wrote one essay and fifteen letters.
Read seventy-two Lectures of Bgrown's Philosophy; ]Baxter's Saint's Rest; Gilbert's Life of Williams; Edwards




MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART.,    129
on Religious Affections; Narrative of a Tour to the Grande
Chartreuse; Horne's Letters on Missions; Orme's Letter
to Irving; fourteen Miscellaneous Discourses."
It is evident, from this statement, that he did not pass
his time idly or unprofitably. It does not, however, contain the whole of his employments.  Besides what is mentioned above it appears from the daily entries, that he
read several of the Orations of Cicero; considerable portions of Homer, Thucydides, &c. He besides met with
several interruptions, which repeatedly engrossed most of
his time for a number of days together.
The following excellent letter he wrote to his friend
Craik, shortly before he went to London:"BAROSSA PLACE, September 3, 1825.
"MY VERY DEAR FRIEND —I am astonished to find,
on looking to the date of your last, that it is so long since
I received it: and, probably, if you have been expecting a
letter, the time, that has seemed to me like a few hours,
may have been felt by you as if longer than it actually is.
At least, so I feel. I always think my friends are very
long in answering my letters, and yet I find, that, even
when I conceived myself most punctual, I am more clilatory than any of my correspondents. That is an apt
personification of time, which represents him as a decrepit
old man with wings, that are visible only from behind.
While we watch his approach he seems to creep tardily
along: it is not till he has passed us that we perceive he
has been flying. I cannot tell you how much I felt on the
receipt of your very splendid and very affectionate present. It has become so common, from the higher refinement of our day, in the acknowledgment of the most




130     MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUHARTT
common-place favour, for an individual to allege that he
cannot express his gratitude, that I am almost ashamed
to use the much-hackneyed phrase. But, in my case, it
is used.in simple honesty; and I know you will believe me
when I say so.  The word'memorial,' in the inscription,
which of course struck my eye before reading your letter,
affected me a good deal.  I feared it was prophetic of
separation, and looked anxiously over your letter for the
passage which should tell me that you had got an appointment to some situation which would prevent our meeting
in St. Andrew's next winter. I was agreeably relieved
from my anxiety by finding in your last page, instead of
an account of your fancied removal, a proposal of lodging
in the same house with me. And I was pleased to think,
that, by calling your present a'memorial' of our friendship, you meant, perhaps, to remind me of the fleeting
nature of our intercourse; which soon, it may be very
soon, will exist only in the recollection of the past.
"My alternations of feeling somewhat resembled those
of one, who, on returning after a long absence, to the land
of his nativity, should ask some passer-by, in pointing to
a sepulchral pile before them, whose monument that was
which seemed to have been so lately erected, and should
be answered by the mention of the name of one whom he
remembered as one of the dearest companions of his youth,
and in whose company he had yet hoped again to revive
the recollection of joys that had long departed, - a feeling, in some respects, more pleasing even than the joys
themselves; but whose informer, on perceiving the gloom
that had overcast his countenance, should rejoin, not to
think that he was dead, he was still alive for whom that
monument was intended; he had built it, not like many




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.               131
who in lifetime raise a splendid mausoleum for their dust,
as if to demonstrate that infatuated man can be proud
even of his frailty; but to stimulate him to greater diligence in the improvement of a season, in which so much
has to be done, which, at its longest, is so very short, and
which even were it longer is so very uncertain.  But
whither am I wandering?  Excuse a mind that is sometimes too fond of amplifying trifles. I would scarcely
write in such a motley strain to any but yourself. If,
however, Cowper published a moral poem on' The Sofa,'
I may be excused for moralizing in a private letter, on
the word' memorial.'"
"Most of Newton's Letters I have read, and those I read
with very great pleasure. And, though not perhaps after
this particular *author that I remember, yet, frequently
after perusing such authors, have I shared in the feelings
you express; a fear, that the spirit that animated such
men is fast declining.  Often have I asked myself the
question, Is not Christianity the same now as it was in the
days of Owen and Baxter, and Newton? and why then is
it that we now so seldom meet with'living epistles of
Christ,' such as they were? If we do not observe this
lukewarmness, the world will.  If we do not use it as an
incitement to greater fervency of prayer for the reviving
influences of the divine Spirit, infidels will make their use
of it, in drawing from it arguments against the power of
religion. I have often thought that I perceived arguments
against evangelical religion, far stronger than its opposers
have ever adduced; and I have wondered how they could
escape the notice of such acute men as we have often had
to mourn over among the'enemies of the cross of Christ.'




132     MIEMOIR OF JOHN URIQUIHART.
I think it is the pious Newton, of whom we have just been
speaking, who thinks he perceives in this, the watching of
a gracious Providence, lest the mind of a weak believer
should be shaken by the corroboration of those arguments
from another, which must often have appeared fearfully
alarming in his own experience.  Were the opposers of
evangelical truth, instead of their worn-out vocabulary of
opprobrious epithets, to employ fair arguments from the
inconsistency of Christians, many of us would be struck
dumb. If'our treasure be in heaven, our heart will be
there also.' And if our heart be there, since it is' out
of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh,' our
conversation will be about heavenly things.  How different, however, is the case! On this subject there are two
or three very beautiful verses, which I have just read, in
a collection of hymns, by Thomas Kelly, (I know very
little about the author; the volume I quote them from
belongs to a sister of Robert Trail's) in which, although
there is no great strength of conception, or beauty of
imagery, there are contained some strains of lively piety
and Christian feeling, expressed in very simple language.
Such, I think, are these verses, paraphrased from, or
rather suggested by, Malachi iii. 16.'Then they that
feared the Lord, spake often one to another,' &c.
"'Why should believers, when they meet,
Not speak of Christ, the King they own;
Who gives them hope that they shalll sit
With him for ever on his throne?
Is any other name so great
As his who bore the sinner's load?
Is any subject half so sweet,
So various as the love of God?




MEMOIR  OF  JOHN  UIRQUIHART.                   133'Tis this that charms reluctant man,
That makes his opposition cease:
Beholding love's aimazing plan,
Ile drops his arms, and sues for peace.'Twas so with us, we once were foes,
Were foes to IIim who gave us breath;
But he whose mercy freely flows,
Has saved us from eternal death.
We look with hope to that great day,
When Jesus will with clouds appear,
A sight of him will well repay
Our labours and our sorrows here.
Of Him then let us speak and sing,
Whose glory we expect to share;
In heaven we shall behold our King,
And yield a nobler tribute there.'
"I cannot help mentioning, that I, last week, received
a letter from  our friend Mr. T, very richly imbued
with  Christian  feeling.   Political economy, and  even
church establishments, were fairly cast in the shade; and
there was an earnestness of affection, and warmth of feeling manifested, while writing on the grand subjects of our
common faith, and expatiating  on the endearments of
Christian friendship, of which you would scarcely believe
our phlegmatic friend susceptible; and' with which only
such subjects could inspire him.
"' The account Mr. T — gives of the employment of his
leisure hours, sufficiently explains (to me at least) this
increased spirituality of his mind.  He had been, for some
time, paying  daily visits to  the'house  of mourning.'
12




134      ME MOIR OF JOITN URQUHARTo
Two of the people he has been accustomed to visit, died
during the summer; of none of them he thinks he had
hope in their death."
In the month of September he went to London, on a
visit to his friend, Mr. Adam; in the course of which, he
spent a few days with me, the last of my earthly intercourse with him. The following extract of a letter from
Mr. Adam, to me, notices this visit, and some of the objects which occupied his attention during the following
winter, after his return to St. Andrew's.
"At the close of the session he persuaded me, before
leaving for England, to spend a short time with his friends
at Perth, which I did; and before returning again the following winter, I persuaded him to pay me a visit in return,
at Homerton. During this visit, he was introduced to Dr.
Morrison and Mr. Townley, and openly expressed the wish
he had fostered previously in his bosom, to devote himself to
missionary labours. We returned to College together, and
being linked by a new bond, a common desire to benefit
the heathen, we applied ourselves afresh to our general
studies, and to a thorough investigation of everything relating to missions. For this purpose we searched the
sacred Scriptures, and summed up our inquiries under the
head of precepts, prophecies, examvples, and promises.
We also perused Brown's History of Missions; HIorne's,
Ward's, Milne's, and Judson's Letters; the Lives of
M.artyn, (which he read repeatedly, and eagerly drank
into his spirit,) Brainerd and Chamberlain; Ward's History of the Hindoos, &c. During this winter our Society
flourished, and several essays were read, not only by our



MEMOIR OF JOHIN  URQUHART.               135
selves, but by others, some of whom we believed to be
inquiring after the path of duty; and, as I perceived, were
not a little influenced by the powerful and affecting manner in which John pleaded the claims of the heathen.
With a sedulous attention to his engagements at the College, he found time to visit the sick, to give his assistance
at some little meetings formed for the religious instruction
of the poor during the week, and occasionally to supply
some village stations, where there was preaching on a Sunday.  I had forgotten to say, at the beginning of this
session he laboured diligently for a time at the Chinese,
and actually accomplished, by his unaided endeavours, a
translation of the first chapter of John's Gospel. Attention to so many different objects rendered it absolutely
necessary that he should soon relinquish the least pressing,
and consequently, as I believe, laid it by, and never afterwards resumed it."
In a letter to his father, from London, he gives some
account of his visit, and of his future plans.  It contains
also some remarks on my respected friend, Dr. Morrison,
which are so just, that I cannot keep them back.  I believe the character and manners of that devoted individual
have not been properly understood, and in some quarters
have been treated with a degree of unintentional injustice.
Hiis long and retired residence in a far distant country,
and his absorption in the great object which he has so
ardently and successfully pursued, sufficiently account for
certain marked peculiarities, which I am convinced had
no foundation in any obliquity of temper or disposition.
Justice to one of the most enlightened and devoted servants of Christ, which this or any age has furnished, re



136      MEMOIR OF JOIN ITRQUIIART.
quires that I should bear this testimony, while I introduce
the observations of my young friend.
"MARSIIGATE, HIOMERTON, OCt. 20, 1825.
"MY DEAR FATTER - In company with Mr. Adam I
called on Dr. Morrison a few days after my arrival, who
received us with that bluntness by which his manners are
characterized, which has by some been represented as
approaching to rudeness; but which is evidently not the
want of kindness, but a superiority to those petty expressions of it which are often used, in our too-refined age,
as a covering for coldness and indifference. Neither did
I find in Dr. Morrison, as some of our friends had represented to me, an overweening conceit of his own sphere of
exertion.  What he said of missions, had more in it of
calm rationality, and less of enthusiasm, than I should
have even expected from a man who had spent seventeen
years in a heathen country.  Dr. Morrison very kindly
offered to introduce me to his students at the Missionary
Society's rooms, in Austin-friars, where the Doctor attends
three days in the week, to give instructions in Chinese.
I have attended there, with a few exceptions, every day
since my arrival, and have seen as much of the mode of
studying the language as may enable me, should I wish to
pursue it, to do so alone.  Dr. Morrison has offered me a
loan of the books that are requisite, which are very expensive, (the Dictionary alone having been published at
thirteen guineas;) and has also made me a present of a
small work, which he has just published, entitled the'Chinese Miscellany.' With these helps, I hope to do
something at the language this winter, in St. Andrew's,
and should I never make any actual use of it, it will be a




XMEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUIIART.              137
good mental exercise.  I have not yet called on Mr.
Wilson) but intend to do so before I leave; but I think it
likely that with my present views, my case does not come
within the province of any of the home theological academies.  My plan is to return to St. Andrew's, to devote
the winter to my ordinary studies, give a little time to
Chinese, and more especially, along with my dear frienid
John Adam, to consider very seriously those passages of
Scripture which relate to missionary exertion, as well as
to collect from other sources all the information possible
upon this interesting subject, and to pray more earnestly
than I have yet done, for direction in this particular matter. I thus hope by the conclusion of the winter, so far to
have made up my mind as may enable me either to offer my
services to the Missionary Society, or to apply for admission
to some Dissenting academy.  May the Lord direct me!
I think you may perceive that my visit to this place has
not been to no purpose.  There is much general information that I have obtained, which the narrow limits of a
single letter do not permit me to communicate; and much
more which is of such a nature that it is not very easy to
communicate by writing at all; and, on account of which
chiefly, a personal visit seemed advisable."
Dr. Morrison generously presented him with his Dictionary; and the papers which he left behind, sufficiently
evince how ardently he entered into the study of that
difficult language.  He appears to have mastered some of
its peculiarities; to have committed a number of its radicals to memory; and to have translated, as Mr. Adam
states, the whole of the first chapter of John.
12*




188      MEMOIR  OF JOIHN  URQUHART.
It was during this session that Dr. Chalmers committed
to his charge the Sabbath-sclhool, which met in his own
house; and I am sure it will not give offence to that respected individual, to find a record in these pages, of the
gratitude and affection of his late pupil, for the attentions
which were so kindly shown him.
"ST. ANDREW'S, December 6, 1825.
" MY DEAR FATHER - The first general meeting of our
University Missionary Society was held yesterday.  This
institution seems now, under the blessing of God, to have
weathered all the opposition that threatened at first to
crush it, and promises fair to be established on a secure
basis, and to extend the field of its usefulness. The dignitaries of our College profess to have quite changed their
opinion with regard to it.  Dr. Nicol confesses, that the
reports we sent him, gave him information that was quite
new to him. Last year, we were refused a room in the
College, and could scarcely obtain a place of meeting in the
town; now Dr. Haldane tells us, that the Divinity-Hall is
at our service, or any other place which his influence can
command. This offer we did not accept, as we had already
obtained the old Episcopal chapel, as a place of meeting,
which is more comfortable and convenient for our purpose,
than any other place we could obtain. Our two principals
have not given us fair words merely, but have testified
their sincerity, by sending us a donation of a guinea each,
with the promise of more on the part of Dr. Nicol. These
are triumphs, which the most sanguine advocates of the
cause would, a few years ago, have thought it not only
ridiculous to expect, but almost foolish even to wish for.
With God, howev:er, all things are possible; and it is be



MEMOIRI  OF JOHN  URQvUIIAIT.            139
cause we expect so little, and desire so little, and pray for
so little on the faith of his promises, that these promises
are not more speedily and more triumphantly accomplished.
" I think I mentioned, in my letter to my mother, that I
had engaged to teach Dr. Chalmers's Sabbath-school during the winter: my school at Denino, in consequence, is
left destitute.  I have heard that the children are desirous
that it should be begun again. Mr. Adam has commenced
his operations, and I have been giving him some assistance. I think it advisable, with my present prospects,
that I should engage rather more prominently in such employments, than otherwise I would be inclined to do.
" Dr. Chalmers has been more than kind to me this year:
indeed, I feel almost oppressed by his attention. As my
school is held in his house, I generally sup with him on
Sunday evening, when I enjoy much more of his conversation than at set parties, as he and Mrs. Chalmers are then
generally alone.  I was very much gratified by a walk I
had with Dr. Chalmers, to visit the parents of the children
who attend his school.  The people in some of the houses,
seemed to recognize him familiarly, so that he is probably
often engaged in the same labours of love.  He thinks
such exercises as visiting the poor and the sick, the best
introduction to ministerial labour.'This,' he said, as we
were gohig along,' is what I call preaching the gospel to
every creature.  That cannot be done by setting yourself
up in a pulpit, as a centre of attraction, but by going forth
and making aggressive movements upon the community,
and by preaching from house to house.' I mention these
reimarlks more freely, as I think this is a duty by far too
much neglected among our Dissenting ministers."




140      MEEMOIR  OF JOI-IN URQUHIART.
The Sabbath-school which he engaged to teach this
winter, in the house of his respected Professor, from whom
he experienced invariable kindness, appears to have occupied his attention very closely. In a book now before
me, is contained a list of the names of the young persons,
with their places of residence.  A list of tracts then follows, which belonged to the school library, with Dr. Chalmers's remarks on the character of each.  Then a list of
tracts, and small books, read by himself, with his own
account of their nature and tendency.  He has also written out, very fully, some of the school exercises on the
Scriptures, which do great credit to his knowledge of the
Scriptures, and his tact for communicating that knowledge.
This winter he entered the Natural Philosophy class;
and, likewise, attended the Hebrew class.  In this language he had before made considerable progress, by the
help of some Hebrew books which I had put into his hands.
He likewise, as appears from his papers, studied hard
at Chinese for some time; and only gave it up from the
greater urgeney of some other objects.
His mind was now completely absorbed in the contemplation of future missionary labour: and to this object, all
his pursuits became subservient.  The letter of his friend
Adam, shows how much he studied it. The paper book,
containing the arrangement of the plan of investigating
the subject remains, and contains many extracts from the
Scriptures, and from various books, on the subject of missions, and numerous references, which prove how very
fully he had examined the matter. It would be very desirable, indeed, if those who offer themselves for this service, were found generally to possess such a knowledge of
the work which they profess to undertake. Almost all his




MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUIHART.               141
letters and papers, from this time, bear upon this subject,
and display at once the depth of his piety, the ardour of
his zeal, and the large portion of good sense with which
he contemplated the service of Christ.
Desirous of obtaining advice, and of engaging the prayers
of his friends on his behalf, he applied to those in whose
judgment and piety he placed confidence, to assist him.
The following is a letter of this kind: —;" MY DEAR AND MUCHI RESPECTED FRIEND - It iS now
about eleven o'clock on Sunday evening, and I have been
engaged almost the whole of the day in public exercises,
so that you will be disposed to excuse a hurried letter. I
write these lines chiefly to renew my request, that you
would favour me with your correspondence on a subject
which now most deeply engages my attention; the determination of the sphere of labour in which I can most usefully spend my life, if the Lord spare me, and honour me
to do the work of an evangelist. I do not know whether
there be any impropriety in my making this request; if
there be, you must lay it to the account of my ignorance,
and forgive me. Were I soliciting your advice merely for
the sake of promoting my own interest, I should feel that
my request was stamped with a character of very gross
egotism.  But I feel that I am the property of Christ,
and of his church; and that even my feeble services may
have some influence on his cause; and in this view of the
subject you will not think me selfish, in desiring your
attention to what might at first appear my own private
affairs.  Almost every person I have conversed with on
the matter, urges upon me the duty of attending to the
wants of our own country, and assuredly, if our own coun



142      MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART.
try were more neglected, or even as much neglected as
other lands, I should feel the argument in all its force.
I do think that our own countrymen have the first claim
upon our attention, and I am inclined to think that the
first preachers of Christianity would have declared the
message of mercy first to the Jews, even though no express
command had been given to preach to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. But I cannot see how the claims of a
native land can be stronger to a Gentile, than the claims
of their own favoured nation were to the Jewish Christians.
On this account, I think we are quite safe in taking the
apostles for our example, in their conduct towards their
countrymen. They did not wait till every dark corner of
Judea was fully evangelized; far less till every heart had
been savingly impressed by the truth. It was no argument to them to remain in Judea,, that there were many
who heard their message, that after all had refused to receive it. On the contrary, this was the very signal for
their departure.  (Acts xiii. 46; xxviii. 24-29.)  I do
feel much for the dark places of our own beloved country;
but it does seem to me that the evangelical ministers of
Britain could, with very little effort, publish the gospel
most fully to every individual in the land. And they
would do well to examine how far they are not guilty of
the blood of souls, in not making more vigorous exertions
for the heathen around their own doors. If a pastor of a
church cannot do the work of an evangelist, let a separate
person be maintained by every body of Christians, for this
purpose; or, if each church cannot accomplish this, let a
number of churches join in order to do so. I am aware that
this is partly done by the itinerant societies, which are now
beginning their operations, and I rejoice to see it; but




MEMtOI   OF JOHN UIRQUHAR T.              143
still this is but a very feeble effort, compared with the
necessities of the case.  I still am inclined to think that
the publication of the gospel, as a message of mercy to
sinners, is the grand object for which the Christian ministry was instituted, at least it is one of the greatest objects.
I do think that even the edification of the body of Christ,
yields to it in point of importance. We believe that if a
sinner once embraces the gospel, he cannot finally fall
away; and even if his progress in the divine life should
be slow, we know that in a very few years at the furthest,
a full display of the glories of the divine character must
burst upon him. Now, whether is it a more important work
to rescue a sinner from hell, and place him in this condition of safety, or to antedate, in a very slight degree,
the happiness of a future state, in one who has believed?
For all our advances in the knowledge of divine truth here
must be held insignificant, when compared with the immense addition to our knowledge and our happiness, which
we shall receive at that time when the dim conceptions of
faith shall be exchanged for the bright realities of actual
vision. I beg that you would not understand me as estimating lightly the work of grace in the hearts of believers.
It is only when contrasted with the work of regeneration,
that I would ever think of it as of secondary importance.
But I am not sure that the work of grace would go on
more slowly in the hearts of believers, from the attention
of the pastors being more called to the work of evangelizing the heathen. I do think in the present day we are
apt to trust too much to public ordinances, and I would
almost like to see Christians more thrown upon the resources of private devotion, and more direct communion
with God.  Our knowledge of divine things, to be sure, is




144      MEMOIR  OF JOHN URQUIIART.
small; but oh! that our piety were but equal to our knowledge. I am sorry to be obliged to conclude so abruptly."
tHis correspondent wrote him an excellent letter in reply
to this, which produced another from him, which I subjoin:
"ST. ANDREW'S, February 4, 1826.
"My DEAR FRIEND —I feel much encouraged by your
very kind letter. However clear the way of duty may seem
to be marked out by our own conscience, still it gives us a
much surer confidence in our own convictions, when they
are strengthened by the concurring sentiments of our
Christian friends, especially of those friends whom we
highly esteem. I am not sorry on the whole, that hitherto
my friends have all opposed my desire to preach Christ
among the heathen. Perhaps it is well that we should
have to wade through a good deal of opposition, in making
up our mind on a subject of such importance. There is
an air of romance which invests the subject of missionary
adventure, when first it is presented to the mind of the
young disciple; (what Mr. Malan in writing to my friend
Mr. Adam, calls'un trait de l'imagination;') and it is well,
perhaps, that this false fire should be damped by opposition.  It is a principle, I believe, among the Moravians,'never to persuade any person to be a missionary.' And
perhaps we should still act in the spirit of this maxim, did
we even carry it so far as rather to repress than to stimulate the incipient zeal of the candidate for missionary service. For surely if our desire for the work cannot stand
against the remonstrances of our friends, we have every
reason to think that it would soon be quenched amid the
heavy and lengthened discouragements which must be met




MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHARIT.                   145
with in the work itself. If the desire to serve my Saviour
among the heathen were merely ofl- myself, it is not like the
fickleness of my natural disposition to have persevered in
it till now, while meeting with so little encouragement.  I
do trust that the Spirit of the Lord has implanted this
desire in my breast, and I know trhat he will perfect what
he has begun. You speak of the difficulties connected
with the work of a missionary. I can assure you, my
dear friend, that as I have perused the history of former
labourers, they have thickened upon my view.  It is not
to the natural dangers and hardships of the missionary
life that I refer.  It is not the prospect of encountering
the diseases of an insalubrious atmosphere, with a frame
that is not very robust, which affects me.  If we perish in
such a cause, we perish gloriously, and in this respect we'conquer though we are slain.'  There is something sweet
in the contemplation of suffering for Christ's sake.' If
we suffer with him, we shall also reign with him.' And' the more we toil and suffer here, the sweeter rest will be.'
These are not the difficulties that I fear. But, I confess,
I do tremble when I think of the spiritual dangers, the
temptations of a heathen land, where all those barriers are
broken down, which are the only safe-guards of the boasted
virtue of the great mass of our community, and which operate, perhaps more strongly than he is aware, in restraining those evil propensities and worldly lusts, with which
even the Christian has to contend. I have been very much
depressed to find the instances of apostasy among missionaries, so very numerous; and that some, who, for a long
time did run well, were afterwards hindered by'the lust of
the flesh, or the lust of the eye, or the pride of life.' While
I look at this dark side of the picture, there is nothing
13




146      MEMOIR OF JOIHN URQUITART.
gives me any comfort, but a complete reliance on the faithfulness of Him who has promised that as our day is, so
shall our strength be. Oh, for a stronger faith in my
Redeemer! a closer walk with my God! I see that spirituality of mind is the main qualification for the work of a
missionary, and this is the very qualification which I feel
that I most want.  But I believe that He who hath given
the desire to serve him, will also give the ability to fulfil
that desire.  I know that though weak in myself, I am
strong in him. And I will rest in the promises of his love.
Christ, when he dwells in the heart by faith, can impart
of his own omnipotence to weakness itself; for through
him, (may the weakest Christian say,) I can do all things.
I have been struck with the view you give of the pastoral
office, as raising up labourers. It is a view of it which I'had not sufficiently considered. When we look intently at
one object, it is very probable that other most interesting
objects may altogether escape our notice; and so when
the mind is much occupied with the consideration of a
single object, the very intensity of our attention to it may
be the means of obscuring our perception of other objects
equally important. Dr. Chalmers has of late plied me a
good deal with the same kind of argument for remaining
in this country.'You may render even to the cause of
missions,' he says, C perhaps greater service in raising up
labourers by your preaching here.'  My reply to this,
however, is just a reference to facts.  Christianity has
been long preached, and many converts have been made
in our own land, and the cause of Christian philanthropy,
moreover, has been most ably pleaded; but notwithstanding, when labourers are called for, the eloquent advocates




MEMOIR O'F JorHN  URQLUHART.             147
of missions shrink back, and scarce any are found to go
forth."
Among his papers I find the notes of a speech which he
delivered at a missionary meeting at Cupar of Fife, on a,
Monday evening, in the month of February.  It was written late on the Sabbath night preceding, and early on the
Monday morning.  He walked to Oupar, delivered his address, and returned early the next morning to St. Andrew's. It is full of ardour, and replete with Christian
feeling, though perhaps he carries some of his views a
little too far. I should have given it in this place, as well
deserving of insertion; but being somewhat similar to an
address afterwards delivered at St. Andrew's, on the same
subject, I omit it to make room for other matter.  Such
an address by one so young, could not fail to produce a
very powerful effect. I pray that those who read it, may
feel it equally with those who heard it.
Much as John's mind was engaged with foreign objects,
he did not forget those who had a claim upon him at home.
His own family, and a few particular friends were the
objects of his warmest attachment; and for the salvation
of some of them he laboured faithfully with themselves,
and wrestled mightily with God.  I venture to give the
following to his brother, as a specimen of combined fidelity
and tenderness of rare occurrence.  There is also in that
letter, and in the one which follows, to his mother, a manifestation of that exquisite sensibiiity, which characterized
him, and which made his devotion to the work of a missionary no ordinary sacrifice.  The prospect of leaving
his country and his father's house, was to him one of inexpressible anguish; but the consideration of what was due




148      M E 31O I   OF JO  I    R Q   H A R T.
to the authority and glory of Christ, impelled him forward.
With talents not inferior to those of Miartyn, he had feelings no less powerful tfian those of that devoted missionary; and though he was not honoured to follow him in his
glorious career, yet as having it in his heart, I doubt not
he now inherits with him a portion of his reward.
" STr. ANDREnW'S, February 10, 1825.'" MY       DEAR BROTHER - I have long thought of
writing to you; and, indeed, had a letter half finished a
week or two ago. I have at last been able to get a day
nearly clear of engagements, and I am glad to spend it in
making up a packet of letters for my friends in Perth. I
begin with you; and, as I wish, if possible, to get five or
six letters written, you will excuse me, if I am more brief
than I otherwise should be in writing to an only brother.
I have often wished, my dear David, to have some closer
intercourse with you than I have yet had, on religious subjects, either by conversation or by letter.  The latter
method is the only one in my power, at present; and, in
some respects I think it the most advantageous, as we can
express our sentiments both more deliberately, and more
freely than we perhaps could in personal intercourse.  I
hope you will not think me obtrusive in bringing this subject before you. Believing, as I do, that not only a right
understanding of the gospel, but also, a real belief of its
truths, is necessary to our happiness, either here, or in
that mysterious state which is after death, you cannot
surely wonder that I should be anxious to know the feelings of my dearest friends, in regard to this important
subject. We, my dear brother, have enjoyed very distinguished privileges, in having a knowledge of the gospel




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHIAT'T.               149
from our infancy. But although early religious instruction is a most inestimable blessing, it has also its disadvantages.  We, who know the gospel, and whose early prejudices, (the strongest of all prejudices,) are in favour of
the gospel, are very apt to rest in our knowledge, or in
our attachment to certain religious opinions, as a proof of
our faith, and consequently of a state of safety in regard
to another world. Now, I think, it is of the very greatest
importance, to remember that there can be no belief where
there is no feeling. In the ordinary affairs of life, we are
disposed at once to admit, that a man cannot believe anything, without being suitably impressed by it.  And how
then should we be for a moment deluded into the opinion,
that in this one instance, where the truths are calculated
Uto make the very deepest impressions -in this, and in this
alone, these truths can be believed without being felt?
Would you think me censorious, if I would say, I feared
you were not a Christian?   Would you not be quite
startled, if I said I suspected you to be an infidel? I do
not mean, my dear David, to make either of these assertions, far less to do so in a spirit of censoriousness.  [But
I. will confess to you, that I have an uncertainty of the
matter, which fills me with the greatest concern on your
account.  We start at the name of infidel.  And we are
very apt to think, that a man may be unregenerate, and
yet very far removed from  anything like infidelity.  We
are very apt to think that there may be such a thing as a
half Christian, one who is almost a Christian.  But it is
silly to be deluded by mere names. The Bible tells us,
that'he who believeth shall be saved, and he who believeth
not, shall be condemned.' We are told of no transition
state in another world, half-way between heaven and hell,
13 *




150      MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUtIARTo
or nearer the one than the other. No; we must either
rise to inconceivable glory, or sink into unutterable woe.
The grand question is, Do we believe the gospel, or do we
sot?  This, and this alone, fixes our after-state.  If we
believe, we shall reign with saints and angels; if we do not
believe, if we have hesitated whether we should receive the
gospel or not, if we have been even almost persuaded to
believe; and if moreover, we have been possessed of all
the knowledge and even all the graces that can adorn an
unregenerate character; still, notwithstanding all, if matters stop here, we must be condemned throughout eternity,
to herd with the very outcasts of society, with blasphemers
and atheists, with liars and'murderers.  This is a very
fearful view of the matter, but is it not the view which the
Scriptures present? And it is this view of the matter
that leads me to fear, and even (I acknowledge) to suspect, that my own brother may be among the number of
those who are securely, and even cheerfully, walking on
to the pit of endless perdition.  This is an awful thought,
and I have felt its awfulness.  Often have I wept from
the bitterness of the thought, that we may soon part never
to meet again; and, excepting the prayers I have offered
for my own forgiveness, the most earnest petitions I have
ever presented at the throne of mercy, have been those I
have put up for a brother's salvation.  I believe there is
an efficacy in prayer, and I am not without the hope that
these prayers will be answered. I have sometimes thought,
that I could see that you had a conviction that all was not
right with you; that, after all, there was a something in
Christianity which you had not experienced.  I could remember, that such was the state of my own mind, when
the Spirit of God first strove with my-rebellious heart, and




BMEMOIR OF JOHIN URQUIHART.            151
the hope dawned upon me, that this might be the beginning of his working on your mind. That hope has often
been blasted by your indifference, or your open rebellion
against God; but, though often blasted, I will still continue
to cherish it. The Lord grant that it may be realized.
I have written these lines for your own private perusal;
and, therefore, I laid aside that veil of propriety, by which,
in ordinary life, we are accustomed to conceal our feelings,
and I have laid open my heart before you. I do not
think you have the hardness to laugh at my concern on
your account; but, if even this should be the effect of this
letter, still I shall not regret that I have told you all I
feel. This letter has been preceded and accompanied with
prayer, and part of it has been written in tears. God is
sometimes pleased to work by the most insignificant
agents; and I am not without the hope, that by the blessing of his Spirit, these confused expressions of a brother's
heart-felt desire for your salvation, may be made the
means of softening your heart, and leading you to receive
the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ with humility and
with joy.
" There is one circumstance, my dear brother, that has
especially led me to open my heart before you at present,
and to urge thus solemnly and earnestly upon you, the
acceptance of the gospel.  You have heard, probably, that
I have determined to spend my life in preaching to the
heathen.  I feel that even the innocent pleasures of this
life are all of them unsatisfactory; and, in many instances,
tend to draw the mind from heavenly objects. And, from
all the information I can collect, I am convinced that I
can serve my God more effectually, by declaring his name
where it never has been declared before, than by repeat



1.52     MEMOIR OF JOH l    URqJQUtEART.
ing the gospel to those who have often heard, and as often
refused it. But the thought that I am soon to leave this
land, never to return, makes me feel it a more urgent duty
while I remain, to press the truths of the gospel on the
attention of those who are my countrymen; and especially
to warn most solemnly, and most earnestly to persuade those
who are dearest to me by the ties of nature. A few months,
my brother, and our earthly intercourse must be for ever
at an end.  Shall I hope to meet you in heaven? 0 give
me an answer to this question, for on yourself its answer
depends.  I confess that, in the prospect of leaving my.
parents, one-half of the great burden that lies upon my
mind, would be removed, could I confidently rely on the
religious principles of my sister, and especially of yourself,
who, in a short time, will be their only son, and almost
their only earthly protector.  There are occurrences that
must here present themselves to your mind, which you
must know, wound my feelings most deeply in the prospect of separation; but these I will not call to mind.  0
that the God of the families of Israel may cause his peace
to abide upon my father's house!
" You know that my parents feel deeply at the thought
of my departure. I am sure, that if they could feel a
thorough confidence in you, my brother, it would go far to
reconcile them to what I believe to be the will of God
concerning me.  I know, my dear David, that you are
often placed in difficult circumstances; but a belief of the
gospel, and a spirit of prayer, will go far to enable you to
act calmly and meekly under the most trying circumstances. Believe in Jesus Christ, and look to him, and
in looking to him, you will reflect his image; you will
become like him. Thus, and thus alone, will you learn




MEXMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART.               153
like him, when you are reviled, not to revile again; and
even when you suffer, not to threaten.
"You see, my brother, I have many reasons for urging
upon you these solemn warnings and earnest entreaties.
I beseech you to believe in Christ.  I beseech you to take
his yoke upon you, and learn of him, for'his yoke is easy,
and his burden is light.' I beseech you to learn of him to
be meek and lowly. I entreat you to do these things, if
you would save your own soul: if you would fulfil the best
and most earnest wishes of an affectionate and only
brother; if you would, in some degree, alleviate the sorrow of one who is soon to part'with all he holds dear on
earth; and finally, if you would comfort our bereaved
parents, if you would make up the breach which the resistless hand of death has so lately made, and which the imperious calls of duty soon must make again, in that little
family which I must try to think no longer my home."
" ST. ANDRrW'S, February 14, 1826.
"' MY DEAR MOTHER - My work of letter writing has
taken up nearly all my private time, for two days; and I
still feel that there are some who may be expecting to
hear from me, to whom it will be quite impossible for me
to write. Although I have written to my father, (which
I always think the same as writing to you,) yet I cannot
think of letting my parcel go, without sending a few lines
expressly to yourself. All my friends seem doubly dear
to me, since I have thought of parting with them.  There
was nothing in the prospect of a separation, my dear
mother, that gave me greater pain, than the thought of
wounding your feelings; and, accordingly, in my late visit,
I was very much rejoiced to hear you speak so calmly




154      MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQU1HART.
and resignedly on the subject.  Even in this life, God has
promised to restore a hundred fold anything we give up
for his sake. And I do think, that even these trials in
themselves carry a blessing along with them. The prospect of an early separation from all I hold dear on earth,
bitter as the thought is, has, notwithstanding, proved to
me a real blessing. I have felt an inexpressible dreariness
in looking forward, while I think only of the things that
are seen and temporal. But then, the very dreariness
which seems to hang over my earthly prospects, has led
me to look more earnestly to heaven, as my home, and
the place of my rest.  And, if we can but steadily fix the
eye of faith on the heavenly inheritance, the glory of the
promised land will shed a brightness even over the gloomiest part of this valley of tears. I know, my dear mother,
that you have many trials; and I could wish much to
soothe the declining years of that dear friend, who watched
over my helpless infancy. I would like to be able to make
some return for the anxious hours, and the sleepless. nights,
I have cost you.  This I may never have in my power;
but wherever my lot may be cast, I shall never forget the
tenderness of a mother's love; never shall I forget the
affectionate solicitude which brought you to our bed-side
every evening, to see that all was safe with us, ere your
own eye could close in sleep; never shall I forget
But it is wrong to indulge in this. Let us forget the
things that are behind, and rather delight to dwell on the
glory and the happiness that are before us.  Oh, how
highly favoured are we, my mother, with the blessed hope
of a glorious immortality! God, it is true, has removed
one of your children; and, for His sake, you are called to
give up another; but still, though the cup may be bitter,




MEMOIR OF JOHN  UVRQ  IHART.             155
it is a Father's hand that has mingled it.' Trials make
the promise sweet.' You will be able now, more than
ever, to enjoy the delightful assurance, that the Lord
will be to his people a portion, better than of sons and
daughters.
" And again, if we but think of what Christ has done
for us, we shall not think any sacrifice too great that we
can make for him.  lIe left the bosom of the Father, and
emptied himself of his glory, and suffered more than ever
man suffered, and died.for us.  Should we not then feel
all the force of the argument, which tells us we are not
our own, having been bought by Christ, when he gave his
blood as our ransom price? Is it not then a reasonable
service, to offer our bodies a living sacrifice to him? And
then, there is the blest assurance, that if we suffer with
him, we shall also reign with him."
The following is to the afflicted friend, to whom some
of his former letters were addressed:" ST. ANDREW'S, March 5, 1826.
" MY VERY DEAR FRIEND - You can easily conceive
how difficult it is for a young person, enjoying in all its
fulness, the inestimable blessing of health, and whose mind
is ever actively engaged with one subject or another, all
at once to place himself in the circumstances of an aged
and long afflicted Christian.  Yet this I must try to do,
ere I can write in a strain of sympathy with your feelings.
But though I cannot enter as I could wish, into your
peculiar circumstances, or write with all that closeness of
sympathy, or administer that experimental consolation,
which the person could, who had seen as much of life's




156      MEMOIR OF JOHIN  IJRQUIART.
chequered scene, and passed through like trials with yourself; yet there are always some subjects on which Christians feel a common interest, however different their
circumstances, and however varied their experience.  The
great objects of our salvation are alike interesting in youth
and( in age; in joy and in sorrow; in health and in sickness; in seasons of prosperity, and in the day of trial.
What was said by a learned heathen of his favourite
studies, (most beautifully, but most extravagantly in his
application of it,) might with great propriety be used by
the Christian in speaking of the truths of the Bible:
" These studies cherish youth, soothe old age, adorn prosperity, and form in adversity a refuge and consolation;
at home they are our delight, abroad they are no incumbrance; they are with us by night, they journey with us,
and in our country retreat they are with us still." What
a pity that worldly men should be so enthusiastic in the
praise of their favourite pursuits, while Christians are so
dull and careless about objects so much more highly deserving of their love. IHow few Christians are there who
could heartily, and from their own experience, apply to
the joys and the consolations of the gospel, those ardent
expressions of delight which a heathen philosopher employs
in regard to merely human learning.  So true is it, that
the children of this world are wiser in their generation,
than the children of light.
"' I should suppose, that to an aged Christian who cannot
look for much longer continuance in the church below, the
state and employment of the church above must be peculiarly interesting.  To all Christians it must be a subject
of the most delightful contemplation; but more especially
to those who hope to be very soon released from the prison.



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUITART.                 157
house of the body.  It was the joy set before him, which
bore our Lord through the ignominy, and the torture of
his sufferillgs. And surely the prospect of such a glory
as is set before his disciples, may well encourage and support them through every difficulty and every trial. It
may well reconcile us to suffer with Christ, when we know
that this is the sure pledge of our reigning with him.
They who have been deepest in suffering for Christ's sake,
shall be highest in glory. They who would sit on his
right hand, when he is seated on his throne, must drink
of the bitter cup which he drank of, and must be baptized
with the bloody baptism with which he was baptized.
The first disciples knew this, and therefore they were not
only patient, but joyful in suffering, and were even apt to
run into the extreme of courting danger. They did not
count the tribulations of the gospel as trials, to which it
was a painful duty to submit; but they regarded them as
honours, which it was no ordinary favour to win.'For
unto you it is given, in the behalf of Christ, (says the
apostle Paul,) not only to believe on him, but also (higher
privilege still!) to suffer for his sake.' It is labour and
fatigue which give to rest and repose their great value. Indeed we have no idea of rest where there has been no
previous weariness or fatigue, and the harder the toil, or
the more distressing the uneasiness, the sweeter is the rest
which succeeds it. I have had little or no experience of
bodily suffering, but I find it is these views of the glory
that shall follow, which bear me up under the prospect
of trials which sometimes burden me with not a little
mental distress; and I trust that these hurried remarks
may not be altogether useless, in administering some little
consolation to you under your lengthened afflictions.  May
14




158      MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUTHART.
the Lord the Shepherd of Israel guide you; and may his
rod and his staff be your comfort, when you tread the dark
valley! Do not forget sometimes to pray for
" Your very affectionate brother in the Lord Jesus."
As the end of his last session at college drew nigh, he
became increasingly anxious about his future sphere of
labour.  lie addressed two letters to Dr. Morrison, with
which the Doctor was much pleased, as appears from his
answers; and iii the following letter to myself, he discloses all his mind, and intimates his final decision.
"ST. ANDREW'S, March 10, 1826.
" MY VERY DEAR SIR - The end of our session is now
at hand, and I begin to feel it necessary to determine on
some settled plan to proceed upon afterwards.  Mr. Adam
and myself have made the subject of missions a matter
of daily consideration this session; and after deliberately
viewing all sides of the question, and candidly comparing the claims of our home population and the heathen
world, and earnestly seeking for direction from IIim who has
promised to be the guide of his people, even unto death, I
have come to the final resolution of devoting myself to
the service of God among. the heathen. I have made the
history of missions, and the biography of missionaries,
a part of my daily study, for some time, and have perused,
I think, nearly all the principal works on the subject.
And I am glad I have done so; for it has given me much
sounder views of the matter than I had before.  There is
much in the distance of a foreign land, and the mystery
that hangs over the operations that are carried on there;
and, above all, in the high and often extravagant eulogi



MEMOIR OF JOI-   UQUHARART.              159
umrns which the eloquent advocates of missions have caused
us to associate with the very name of Mvissionary; there
is much, I say, in all this, to produce a false impression
on the mind of a young disciple.  I remember, when I
first united myself to a Christian society, of being much
disappointed to find, that Christians, though vastly different from the world, were still weak and imperfect creatures.  And so, I had been accustomed to form such a
lofty conception of the character of a missionary, that I
have been almost disappointed to find, from their history,
that they are men of like infirmities with other Christians;
and certainly, I have been a good deal depressed to find
that many of them were far from possessing that saintly
devotedness, and apostolic zeal, which my boyish imagination had attributed to them.  Indeed, I have to fear, that
there was much of romance in my first thoughts of becoming a missionary; a good deal of what Mr. Malan, in writing to my friend Mr. Adam  on the subject, calls'un
trait de l'imagination.' But I trust the detail of facts,
which have come under my review, has done much to
dissipa e this; and has at the same time, impressed me
more deeply than ever with the duty of engaging in this
department of the ministerial work.  The brilliant colouring of romance has faded from the picture; b.aits outlines seem even more strongly and broadly marked than
before.  I have not been discouraged by the sufferings of the missionary life; they are borne for Christ's
sake. And happy, indeed, are they, to whom it has been
given on behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but
also to suffer for his sake. Neither do I feel discouraged
by the want of success; the expectations of Christians on
this subject appear to me very unreasonable.  They put




160      MEMOIR  OF JOHN  UJRQUHART
forth their little finger to remove a mountain, and are
astonished that God does not work a miracle to reward
their great exertions. But the promise of God stands
sure; and though it tarry, we will wait for it. One thing,
I confess, has distressed me not a little; it is the prospect
of those temptations, before which so many have fallen;
but I know it is wrong to fear.  The God that enables us
to stand in the midst of smaller temptations is able, and
has promised to be with us at all times. I see that
unwavering faith in God's promises, and closeness of communion with him, are among the main requisites in the
character of a missionary.  And in these I feel that I am
very deficient. 0, pray for me, my dear friend, that he
who has wrought in me to will, may also fit me to perform it.
s" I have had a letter from Dr. Morrison.  He recommends an early application to the Society, and even talks
of a very early entrance on the work itself. I trust I am
ready to engage whenever the Lord will, but I think it is
not a recoil from trial, which makes me suppose that prudence might demand my still remaining a considerable
time in this country. I am not yet eighteen. After this
session I shall have nothing to prevent my engagement in
direct p'raration for missionary work.  I should like to
know the state of the Society's arrangements.  I was
offered a very good situation some time ago, but was afraid
it might, in some degree, interfere with my preparations
for the work to which I am devoted.  I have taught Dr.
Chalmers's Sabbath-school for him this winter, as he is
engaged otherwise.  This has given me the opportunity
of very familiar intercourse with the Doctor. I sup with
him on Sunday evenings, and have a good deal of conver



MEMo 0IR OF JOHIN URQUvIIART.            161
sation with him on the subject of missions, &c. I-le tries
to persuade me to stay in this country, but I do not think
his arguments powerful. I have refused to accept of any
situation that may occur to him at present, in the prospect of soon offering myself to the Society.  On this
account I should like you to write soon, if possible,
whether the Society can receive applications this summer."
As this letter contains his decision respecting the important work which had so long occupied his attention,
perhaps this is the proper place to introduce his concluding address to the St. Andrew's Missionary Society, which
was in a great measure the fruit of his own exertions, and
which he had cherished with the fondest affection.  That
address, also, containing his matured views, will afford me
the opportunity of making a few remarks on the subject,
and on the opposition of his friends to his personal engagement in the work.*
Very far be it from me to write a single sentence that
might diminish the force, or detract from the earnestness
of this energetic and eloquent appeal.
On the Society to which it was read, it produced a most
powerful effect; and on their minutes, they have made the
following entry of that impression: " Never probably, in
any association, had such an address, on such a subject,
been before delivered. To say that it was most eloquent,
most solemn, most affecting, the production of a mind of
mighty grasp; sedulously and continuously directed to one
single object of mightiest import, may convey to those
who heard it not, some idea of the impression produced
by it."
* See Appendix K.
14*




162     IMEMOII   OF JOHIN  URQUHART.
I trust it is destined to touch the hearts of many, whom
the living voice of the author never could have reached.
I envy not the understanding, or the feelings of that individual, who can read the address, without experiencing a
higher emotion than that of admiration. It is impossible
not to be struck with the deep earnestness of the advocate,
the cogency of his reasoning, and the affection and simplicity of his manner.  Itere are "'thoughts that breathe,
and words that burn," on a subject the most momentous
which can engage the mind of man.
Were there any danger of this address producing a
general rush into the missionary service, and a desertion
of the service at home, it might be necessary to enter
some exceptions to certain parts of it. But as long as the.
love of home and of ease, and various other considerations
operate, there is little probability that we shall have to
check the fervour of missionary zeal. Perhaps my young
friend, however, a little exaggerates the low state of this
principle, and represents the deficiency of missionary candidates as greater than it really is. What is chiefly to be
regretted, is, the paucity of well educated and gifted men
for this work. By far the greater number of persons who
volunteer their services, are young men of Christian principle, but whose early advantages have been comparatively
few. In this respect, there has, indeed, been some progress of late, but still there is much room for improvement.
Without throwing any reflection on persons of humble
life, and limited education, who wish to devote themselves
to this work, I do conceive, that in many instances, the
failure which has taken place in our foreign operations,
may partly, at least, be traced to this source.  When a




MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUITART.               163
young person, under examination, tells us, that, the extent
of his reading has been the Bible, Boston's Fourfold State,
Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, and the Evangelical Magazine; and that, from these and similar sources, with attending missionary services, he has derived all his knowledge of the work in which he proposes to engage, it is
obviously impossible, whatever dependence may be placed
on his sincerity, to attach any confidence to his knowledge
of the nature of the work.
Such a person is perhaps accepted; and, after passing
through a hurried and imperfect education, is sent forth
to some important and difficult situation abroad.  There
difficulties and trials assail him, for which he is altogether
unprepared, and, after floundering and blundering a few
years, becomes either dispirited or ensnared, and effects
nothing.  Perhaps he has been suddenly elevated to a
class of society, in which he had not been accustomed to
mingle, and from that circumstance, is exposed to danger,
which would scarcely affect persons of another description.
It ought not to be concealed, that missionaries labouring
in certain situations among the heathen, enjoy advantages
which are not possessed by their brethren in the ministry
at home; and this circumstance, if caution is not exercised,
is in danger of producing great injury to our cause.
As so much reference is made by John in his letters, to
the opposition of his friends and others, to his desire to
devote himself to the work of Christ among the heathen,
I feel called upon to explain the nature and reasons of
this opposition, which, I apprehend, he never properly
understood.  Not having opposed him myself, after It saw
his mind was fully made up, my explanation may be received
with the greater confidence.  As the opposition was not




164      MEMOIHR OF JOHN URQUHART.
from worldly people, or from religious persons under the
influence of worldly motives, the explanation is the more
necessary.
I believe then, that opposition arose entirely from two
causes, the state of his constitution, and the character of
his mind. All who knew him, feared that his bodily constitution would never bear the effects of a warnm climate.
Though liable to no particular complaint, he was delicate
from a child, and incapable of enduring much fatigue or
exposure.  Of this his parents were most sensible, and
hence their decided reluctance to allow him to go abroad.
The event proved that their fears were too well grounded.
Other friends connected his mental with his bodily constitution, and feared the labours of a missionary life would
soon prove fatal.  He possessed a highly morbid sensibility, which rendered him liable to exquisite sufferings,
from circumstances that would not have greatly affected
more robust and hardy individuals. He was formed for
society, and was dependent upon it in a great degree, for
his support and capability of acting. This is most strongly
marked in many of his letters. In connection with this,
the kind of talent which he possessed would have fitted
him for eminent usefulness in this country; while his
exquisite taste, and various other qualifications, would
have been to a considerable extent, lost in a foreign country. I am not disposed to underrate the talents necessary for foreign missionary labour, or to exaggerate the
importance of our own, yet I freely acknowledge that I
am one of the number, who would have rejoiced that John
Urquhart had laboured at home, rather than have gone
abroad.
It was too delicate a matter to press these reasons upon




MEMOIR OF JOHIN  URQUHART.               165
him; but I am sure they are the only reasons which
weighed with Dr. Chalmers, Mr. Ewing, and various other
in(lividuals, from whom he considered himself as experiencing more opposition than he had been prepared to
expect. It is every day becoming more evident that men
of a high order of talent in the Christian ministry, are
required in this country.  The successful prosecution of
the work abroad, renders this no less necessary, than the
nature of the work at home; and it would augur ill for
the cause of Christ generally, were such gifted individuals
all disposed to forsake our own shores.  Of this, however,
there is no great reason to entertain much fear.
I cannot, perhaps, better conclude the account of his
progress during this last session at St. Andrew's, than by
giving at length several documents with which I have been
furnished.  It is always more satisfactory to report the
evidence of eve and intimate witnesses, than to indulge
in general and hypothetical reasonings; and I have found
it a very peculiar advantage in conducting this narrative,
that in almost every step of the religious life of this interesting youth, I can adduce the evidence of those who were
so closely connected with him, that they had the best
opportunities of judging; and who were, at the same time,
well qualified to form a judgment of him. His friend, Mr.
Duff, writes as follows: -
"In the session of 1825 - 6 his growth in spirituality
was quite extraordinary.  Literature and science now
dwindled, in his view, into comparative insignificancy;
they no longer occupied the greatest portion of his time;
they no longer possessed exclusive charms; it was sufficient for casting them into the shade, that of them it might
be asserted, as of the earthquake and the fire of Elijah,




166      MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUHART.' that the Lord was not there.' Ti-e, no doubt, this session,
gained the third prize in the Natural Philosophy class,
which from the highly scientific nature of the course, is
generally reckoned no ordinary attainment; but this he
owed entirely to his real superiority of intellect, as it was
gained without labour, without effort, without much preparation. Indeed he could not bear the thought of spending much time on what appeared to him to be but of
secondary importance.   Christianity now  became the
constant subject of his meditation, the cause of Christ the
constant theme of his discourse.  HIow to be useful to the
souls of men, how to promote the glory and honour of his
Redeemer, attracted all his thoughts, and formed the
object of his fondest desires.  He seemed full of the spirit
of the reformer, proclaiming, in all his words and actions,'None but Christ; none but Christ.'"
Besides the prize in the Natural Philosophy class,
referred to by Mr. Duff, he gained a prize in the Hebrew,
Chaldaic, and Syriac class, "as a testimony," says Professor Baird, "of my high approbation of his correct and
exemplary conduct, and of the many proofs of excellent
talents and distinguished proficiency which he exhibited
while attending that class."
I should also mention that he attended the Natural
History class during the session; and, from some drawings
and papers which remain, it is evident that he had made
considerable progress in botany. With mineralogy and
chemistry he was also well acquainted. The testimony he
received from the Lecturer on Natural History is entitled
to a place:



MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUTIART.              167
"' ST. ANDREw's, April 29, 1826.
"Mr. John Urquhart was enrolled a student of Natural
History in the United Colleges of St. Salv. and( St. Leon,
at the commencement of the session now closed; and, from
the unremitted regularity of his attendance, the interest
he took in the course, and the intelligence of his conversations on the subject, I have every reason to believe, that,
had there been public examinations, he would have been as
eminent in the Natural History as he has been in every
class of the United College.
" JOHN MACVICAR,
" Col. Lect. Nat. His."
From another of his fellow-students, and indeed his fellow-lodger, Mr. Alexander, I received the following very
ample view of his character and talents.  The writer, I
have reason to know, is well entitled to pronounce his
judgment; and all that he says, is at once most correct,
as well as judicious':" My acquaintance with John Urquhart commenced in
the year 1823; but it was not till the summer of 1825 that
we became very intimate.  When I knew him  first he
appeared to possess a great flow of spirits, which showed
itself more in a perpetual cheerfulness and hilarity, than
in any fondness for boisterous mirth.  This he seemed
still to retain, as far as I could judge, as long as I had an
opportunity of conversing with him.  Occasionally, however, this gave way to excessive depression, with which
sometimes he was dreadfully distressed.  During these
seasons he was often visited with thoughts, which to his
mind, were peculiarly discouraging and terrific; such as




168     MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUI-ARTo
doubts of his being a child of God, a fear of losing his
senses; and many other equally unpleasant ideas. I have
not the least doubt, however, that all these arose from
physical causes, and were prognostications of that disease
by which his years on earth were brought to a close.' In November, 1825, it was my lot to come to St.
Andrew's to study; atnd I had the happiness to find
myself lodged under the same roof with John Urquhart.
Mlany a happy and delightful hour have we spent together
in this room wherein I now sit, - the memory of which is
still upon my mind, and it is sweet. Never has it been
my lot to meet with one of so sweet and amiable a disposition. Contented with whatever he received, I never
heard him utter an angry word, or saw him wear a menace
on his placid countenance. He was regular in all his
habits, kind and affectionate in all his conversation with
those around him; and the estimation in which he was
held by those with whom he lodged, was best testified by
the heartfelt grief and honest tears with which they
received the intelligence of his death.  His landlady, for
some weeks after, wore mourning, in token of respect for
his character and memory.
"' His piety was simple and unaffected; and, at the same
time, truly evangelical. Deeply sensible of his own unworthiness and guilt, he was humbled before God, and
was enabled to lay hold upon him who is the Saviour from
all sin. Convinced by his numerous short-comings that
he had not yet arrived at perfection, he was taught to
cling closer to his Redeemer, and trust in him alone.  He
was distinguished by a godly, jealous care over his own
heart; and was watchful against temptation.  Many a
time did he deny himself the indulgence of pleasures of




MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUIIART.               169
which he was naturally fond, just because they might
stand in the way of his soul's good.  In prayer, he peculiarly excelled.  How earnest were his supplications, and
how experimental his confessions, every one who has ever
heard him can testify. His whole soul seemed to be
engaged; and the energy of his expression sufficiently
testified, that what he asked, was what he indeed knew
and felt himself to want.
"His zeal for doing good was very great.  You, sir,
already know with what eagerness he sacrificed every
prospect of worldly advantage for the arduous and laborious office of a foreign missionary.  This was the darling
desire of his heart; and, for the attainment of this object,
he earnestly and unceasingly prayed. Every work upon
Christian missions, every article of missionary intelligence,
he anxiously and eagerly perused.  He had pondered well
all that he might expect to endure; he had looked upon
all the dangers and difficulties which lay before him; but
his desire was not weakened, and his confidence in the
promises of Jehovah was unshaken.  So firm was his
determination, that he actually commenced the study of
Chinese, and spent many an hour of hard study on its
recondite symbols. I do not know wlhether he continued
to prosecute this study: I rather think not; as he seemed
latterly to have directed his attention more to India than
to China.
"' But he did not content himself with a mere desire to
do good, and with forming plans for future usefulness; he
was also busy in doing what he could for those around
him.  He was much occupied with Sabbath-schools, and
took great delight in communicating instruction to the
children by whom they were attended.  It was his practice
15




170      MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUI AR T.
to make them read a chapter, which he explained to them,
and questioned them  from  it.  All these questions he
previously wrote down and studied, in order that they might
be as simple and easy as possible. Indeed, he possessed
a peculiar talent for speaking to children, and never
failed to secure their attention.  The simplicity of his
addresses to them may be evinced by the surprise which
some of his youthful hearers once expressed, that they
should have been able to recollect all that he had said.
Nor was he contented with merely speaking to the children
on the Sabbath; he made it a point to visit them regularly in their own houses, and to converse with them and
their relations there. By these means he secured the
confidence of the parents as well as the affection of the
children, and was often enabled to speak a word in season
to those with whom he met.
11 To visit the sick and the infirm was another favourite
occupation of my dear brother; to every call of this kind
he was ready; and many a time have I known him leave
his studies to visit the bed-side of some humble sufferer.
On these occasions his conversation was always of a spiritual nature, and it was always his anxious endeavour to
direct the mind of the sufferer away from every earthly
confidence, unto the'Lamb of God, who taketh away the
sins of the world.' Sometimes in these visits of love, he
was kindly received, sometimes he had to endure the suspicion of having some sinister motive by which he was
actuated; sometimes he met with intelligence and attention, and sometimes with ignorance and carelessness; but
whatever reception he met with, he never failed to repeat
his visits: so strong was his desire for the welfare and
salvation of his fellow men.




AMEMOIR  OF JOIhN  URQUHART,              171
" But, while he was thus attentive to the duties of religion, he was not negligent of those studies for which he
had come to this place.  On the contrary, I believe there
were few of his cotemporaries who studied more closely
than he did: certainly, none more successfully.  In only
one class did he fail to distinguish himself; viz. the Logic
Class; but this I am inclined to impute, not so much to
any want of ability, as to a distaste for the dull and barren
speculations with which the Professor of Logic treats his
students. His splendid appearance in the Ethical Class,
the year following, proved what he could do; and it was
certainly no small achievement to stand first in two separate competitions in a class, perhaps the most numerous
and able that ever attended the prelections of a St. Andrew's Ethical Professor. As far as I could judge, his
talent lay chiefly in a facility of acquiring languages;
and in the elegance, both of thought and expression, by
which his compositions were distinguished.  There were
several of his cotemporaries who took a much firmer and
profounder grasp of a subject; but there were few, if any,
who could think so clearly, and express themselves with
such perspicuity and elegance, as he was able to do. Contrary to what may be inferred from  the ease and beauty
of his style, his habits of composition were very laborious.  Beginning from a rude and imperfect sketch, he,
by degrees, filled up the parts and extended the outline.
HIe scarcely wrote a sentence which did not cost him some
labour; and, consequently, composition was to him a most
fatiguing, and, I may say, irksome exercise.  He always
set himself to it with reluctance; and, indeed, it was only
by the calls of duty that he could be prevailed upon to
take up his pen on any subject. I have not seen all his




172      MEMOIR OF JOHtN URIQUHJART.
compositions; but the best that I have seen are a series
of papers on the St. Andrew's Missionary Society, printed
in the'St. Andrew's University Magazine,' a little work
conducted by some of his friends during last session; and
an essay on the duty of personally engaging in the work
of missions, read before the St. Andrew's Students' Missionary Society; of which he was always a distinguished
friend and supporter."
These testimonies are peculiarly pleasant and satisfactory. not only as the expressions of Christian and personal
friendship, but as bearing evidence to his holy and exemplary conduct. In him, religion did not appear as a profession, - it dwelt in him, as life, — it attached itself' to
him as clothing. It was not a holiday, but an every day
garb, and was worn with the ease of a natural habit, -
not the stiffness of an assumed or foreign dress.  There
is one testimony more which I cannot withhold, though
the name of the respected individual who bears it, has
been already repeatedly introduced. No one could know
him better than Dr. Chalmers; and no man was more
capable of estimating his intellectual and spiritual attainnents.  The following document presented to John, on
leaving the University, does great honour to the heart of
the Professor, as well as to the talents of the student.
"ST. ANuDREW'S, April 28, 1826.
"These are to certify, that Mr. John Urquhart was
enrolled a regular student of MHoral Philosophy in the United College of St. Andrew's, for the session of 1825-6;
that he distinguished himself highly by his appearances
while under examination, and was far the most eminent




MEMOIR  OF JOHIIN URQUHART.                173
of his class, for the beauty and eloquence of his written
compositions; that he possesses a very uncommon degree
of taste and talent for the disquisitions of ethical science;
and that altogether, he, as the fruit of great diligence,
united with great powers, achieved the credit of being a
first rate proficient in the lessons and doctrines of the
course.
" THOMAS CHALMERS."
""Mr. Urquhart gained two prizes in this class; one,
the first prize, for an essay on' The Mutual Influences
and Affinities, which obtain between the Moral and Economic Condition of Society.' Another, the first prize for
essays read in the class during the session."
Perhaps, to some readers, it may occur to ask, did the
individual who was so successful in all his academical pursuits, take a degree at St. Andrew's? It appears he did
not. If this should excite surprise, I can say in explanation, that multitudes of the best scholars at the Scottish
Universities never trouble themselves about the matter;
and many of those who take the degree of A. M., never
use it. But as I know John was recommended to take a
degree; I can account for his neglecting to follow the
advice, only by referring his conduct to that instinctive
and powerful aversion to human praise, by which he was
remarkably distinguished.  One of his fellow students,
who knew him well, and whose testimony I have not yet
quoted, calls my attention to this feature of his character;
what he calls, " his total indifference to human approbation. The loudest applause of his instructors and fellow
students did not seem to tell on his feelings at all.  Had
1. *




174      M]EMOIRP  OF JOTIN URQIIUART,
he been susceptible of pleasure from  any distinction conferred, it must have shown, when he was singled out, and
eminently honoured, by such a man as Dr. Chalmers.
Yet, even in this case, he was unmoved.  His mind hardly
appeared to have a thought for anything, save the good
opinion of Him who trieth the reins and hearts of the
children of men. He arrived at this heavenly-mindedness, not, I am sure, by any process of acute investigation
into the philosophy of our feelings, but simply by ever
exercising his affections on those things which are unseen
and eternal. His indifference was not the misanthropic
stoicism of the philosopher, but the perfect liberty of the
Christian."
Whether I am correct, or not, in assigning this reason
for his declining to take his degree at the University, the
reader, I am sure, will rejoice with me in the evidence of
the existence of such a state of mind as that which this
extract describes.  It is in full accordance with other testimonies, and with all my own convictions.  Genuine
Christianity does not teach us to despise the approbation
of others, or undervalue any useful attainment which may
be the object of that approbation.  But when it obtains
full possession of the mind, it, in a great degree, dislodges
those secondary motives and considerations, which constitute the great principles of action in the men of the
world. It does not produce meanness or servility; but it
produces lowliness of mind. It not only inculcates a spirit of self-distrust and diffidence, and indifference to human glory; but in its very nature induces these dispositions.  The individual who feels the charm and the power
of a Saviour's love, and who attaches to his approbation




MEMOIR OF JOIJN URQUHART.                  175
all that constitutes the glory of future hope, will not be
much concerned for the honours or the applause of this
world. Into these views and feelings few have entered
more fully and even enthusiastically than the subject of
these memoirs.  All his letters are illustrative of this state
of mind; and his whole conduct was a living commentary
on his letters.




176       MEMOTIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.
CIHAPTER V.
Letter to his Mother in reference to his becoming a Tutor in a family
of high respectability - Letter to Herbert Smith, Esq. - Extracts
fro m his Journal- Letter to Mr. Craik-Letter- Extracts from his
Journal — Letter to TMr. Trail-Letter to his Sister -LettersExtracts from various letters to Mr. Scott Moncrieff - Letter to his
friend C. - Letter to Mr. Herbert Smith - Letter to the Rev. John
Burnett — Letter to Mr. Adam - Letter to Mr. Orme - LetterLetters to his Sister - Letter to Mr. Trail - Letter to Mr. Adam
- Letter to his afflicted friend - Letter to Mr. Trail.
PREVIOUSLY to John's leaving St. Andrew's, a negotiation had been carried on, through Dr. Chalmers, with a
family of the highest respectability, in which a tutor was
required for an only son.  It was finally agreed that he
should occupy this situation soon after the close of his
College course.  This arrangement arose, not out of any
change in his mind respecting the work of the gospel, but
was acceded to, with a view  to satisfy his friends, and
finally to gain their consent to his becoming a missionary;
and also, in the expectation of being able to promote his
own improvement by retirement and study. The following extract from a letter to his mother, will explain his
motives, the state of his mind, and a few other particulars:
"ST. ANDREW's, April 15, 1826.' MY DEAR MOTHER -  I am afraid I have kept you in
suspense regarding my plans.  I have been waiting in
daily expectation of hearing something more definite respecting the situation I wrote about.




MEMOIR  OF JOHN-I   URQUHART&            177
"Before T heard of this situation at all, I wrote to Mr.
Orme, asking his advice how I ought to proceed after this
session, telling him my views regarding missions, and particularly wishing to know the state of the Missionary
Society's arrangements. I received his answer, and my
father's last letter by the same post.  His advice was to
write to Mr. Arundel, making application to the Society.
You know this was the plan I had purposed to myself, and
you may guess that I was in no small perplexity how to
act. The prospect of benefitting by classes at Glasgow,
my extreme youth and inexperience, and, above all, the
wish to show my dear parents that I am willing to acquiesce
in their wishes as far as conscience will permit, have induced me to accept of this situation. I hope the Lord has
been my guide in this matter.
"Accordingly I communicated my willingness to avail
myself of his kindness, to Dr. Chalmers, who wrote to
Lord Rosslyn immediately. A letter has come from Lord
Rosslyn to Dr. Chalmers, this morning, enclosing a letter
from  Colonel M        to his lordship, giving some more
information respecting the place.  Nothing is said about
the salary. I do not expect it will be great, as my charge
will be very small, and I am to have the liberty of attending classes.
" I told Dr. Chalmers distinctly to state to Lord Rosslyn
that I am a Dissenter, and that if I am near Glasgow, I
should like to attend Dr. Wardlaw, or Mr. Ewing.  Perhaps this may be an objection to my settling in the family;
if so, it is better that it be stated now, than afterwards."
Previously to his joining the family, then on a visit at
Lord Rosslyn's, at Dysart House, he proposed a short




178      MEMOIR OF JOHEN  URQUHART.
missionary tour in the Highlands, along with his friend
Mr. Adam; but he was taken ill in his father's house, and
rendered incapable of any exertion for some weeks. While
convalescent he wrote a long letter to an old fellow-student,
between whl-om and himself there appears to have subsisted
a very endeared friendship. I mean Herbert Smith, Esq.,
of Egham, Surrey.  The testimony of that gentleman, to
the amiable, and Christian character of my beloved friend,
and to his high intellectual attainments, corresponds with
that of all his other associates.  To him John gives an
account of some of the plans which had been prosecuted
at St. Andrew's, during the preceding winter. In this
respect it is particularly interesting, and also for the reference to the simultaneous movements in the Universities.
"PERTH, May 11, 1826.' "MY VERY DEAR FRIEND - I was just going to proceed with an account of the St. Andrew's University Missionary Society, (in which you have always taken so deep
an interest,) when I was compelled to leave off, through
weakness.  To resume the subject then —at our first
meeting we had not a very large attendance: we presented
the different presents of books which had been received
from  yourself, Dr. Morrison, Mr. Townley, and other
friends of the missionary cause. I then read to the Society that part of your very interesting letter, which
directly referred to our association; and, I trust, we have
profited by the hints it contained.  Votes of thanks were
ordered to be transferred to those liberal donors who had
made such valuable additions to its library.  I took the
responsibility of communicating to you this expression of
the Society's gratitude.  I am ashamed to think that it




MEMOIR  OR JOIHN  URQUHART.              179
has not been communicated long, long ere now.  I cannot
go minutely into details. Suffice it to say, that the Society
has prospered even more than in the former session.  We
were kindly permitted to meet in the old Episcopalian
chapel. Dr. IHaldane at once accepted the patronage of
the Society, and offered any room in St. Mary's we might
think convenient, as a place of meeting.  One thing I
think exceedingly interesting, is, that similar societies
have now been formed in all the Universities of Scotland,
and a kind of simultaneous movement was made this last
session, towards a system of general correspondence.
Might we hope that this could be extended to institutions
of a similar nature, in the Universities of England? In a
letter from the Society in the Glasgow University, they
mentioned that they had had some correspondence with a
Missionary Association in one of the Colleges of America.
It were very desirable (and I think it is not impracticable)
to see all the pious young men in our great seminaries of
learning, united to each other by this great bond of Christian philanthropy. Perhaps you could do something by
opening a channel of correspondence between some of the
Colleges in Cambridge, and the Scottish Universities.  I
expect to spend next winter in Glasgow. I could communicate anything from you on this subject, to the Association there, and it would immediately be circulated
among the sister Universities.
"15th. There is a new system of religious instruction
which has been attempted in St. Andrew's this last session,
and which I think is a most efficient system for evangelizing large towns.  The plan is very simple.  We just
inquired after some persons residing in different quarters
of the town, who were religiously disposed. We called




180     MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URIQUI-ART.
on these, and requested the favour of a room in their
house, for a few of the neighbours to assemble in for
religious purposes.  We expected a little group of eight
or ten persons to assemble, but were astonished to find the
attendance increase in some of the stations to fifty or
sixty. Many of these never went to church.  We generally read and explained a passage of Scripture, and read
some extracts from such books as we thought were most
striking and useful. I have some doubt whether a layman in the Church of England could attempt this; but if
the laws of the church and the state allow, I think many
a Christian would find ample scope for such employment,
in the dark places of your towns and villages. You underderstand, we never called it preachingy; and accordingly
Dr. Haldane gave his consent that the young men in the
Established Church should engage in the work. Churchmen and Dissenters all went hand in hand, and we forgot that there was any distinction. And this must be the
case more universally, ere the cause of our great Redeemer
can go triumphantly forward. Tait has already begun similar meetings in Edinburgh, and some have been commenced
here. I do think this a most plausible method for getting
at that class of the community who do not attend the public
services of the gospel. You know Dr. Chalmers's plan is
a little different.  He wishes the Christian philanthropist
to visit every family. The great objection to this plan,
in my estimation, is the difficulty of finding a sufficient
number of agents. The Doctor's objection to pulpit instructions, when they stand alone, is, that you are setting
up a centre of attraction; this will only draw some of the
people, some are not under the influence of the attracting
power, and they must be dealt with in another way. You




MEMOIR OF JOIrHN  UnRQUHART               181
nust make an aggressive  movement towards them. Before
setting the plan I speak of in operation, I asked Dr. Chalmers's opinion of it.  He gave his decided approbation to
it, although he thought the system of individual visitation
a better one, if it could be accomplished.  This new plan,
however, he thought had a much greater efficacy than
common preaching, when alone.  Instead of setting up
one great centre of attraction; it was like carrying about
the magnet, and bringing it near to the iron filings.
" P. S. I am not sure where I may be this summer, but
a letter addressed to my father's care, will always find
me. I could have written a great deal more, but my writing is so bad that I fear when written across, it is quite
unintelligible. I wish I had taken a larger sheet."
From  this time I shall do little more than make John
his own biographer; a journal which he began to keep
more regularly and fully than formerly, and a large mass
of letters, will enable me to maintain a tolerably connected
narrative, without interposing many remarks of my own.
To enable the reader to form some idea of his journal, I
shall give the first part of it almost entire, afterwards I
shall intersperse a few extracts from it, with his correspondence. As he lived for the most part very retired, no
extraordinary incidents can be expected.; but his steady
and rapid advancement towards the heavenly glory is
strongly marked.'"DYSART HOUSE, June 3, 1826.
"My journal has now been at a stand for nearly a
month, and I think I have experienced the bad effects of
16




182     MEMOIRt  OF JOHN UIRQUHIART.
neglecting it.  Hitherto it has been exclusively, or nearly
exclusively, literary; and, even in that point of view, extremely meagre, a mere catalogue of the number of pages
read and written. May I not, with advantage, extend my
plan? I think I have profited in my studies, from taking
dalily account of my progress. Might not this hold equally
in regard to other engagements? I have strong objections
to the writing down of religious experiences. Perhaps I
am wrong in this. My strongest objection is the fear that
these papers may meet the eye of another, and that this
consideration might influence me in writing. This might
prove a great source of delusion to my own soul. But
still, perhaps, I am wrong. The conduct of the most eminent servants of Christ is a strong plea in favour of such
journals.  I am much pleased with the plan of my dear
Henry Craik on this matter.  I shall attempt something
on his system.  If I fail, it matters not. I must just
relapse into my old brief summary. But to begin. What
have I done last month?  Left St. Andrew's in the end
of April. Spent a fortnight at home with my relations,
and mny dear John Adam.  Unwell nearly all the time,
and prevented by illness from an intended missionary expedition to the Highlands.  Came here about the middle
of May. Felt the dreariness of having no Christian
society. Favoured with an introduction to some of the' excellent of the earth,' Captain Barclay, Mr. Thompson,
&c. I have studied very little since I came here, have
felt unsettled.  This is quite wrong. We should ever be
rea(ly for duty, and it is our own fault, if, in all circumstances, we do not find abundance to occupy our time.
" 4th. Sunday evening.-Read one chapter of the Greek
Testament.  Found my pupil rather backward in his




MEMOIR  OF JOHIN  URQUHART.              183
attendance on my religious instructions.  Anything connected with the service of the English Church is most
relished by the family. Even the Scriptures seem most
acceptable when I propose reading the lessons for the day.
It is right to humour these prejudices, in imitation of him
who became'all things to'all men.' I have heard tswo
very excellent discourses from  Mr. Thomas and Mr.
Aikenhead, -respectively.  Visited a Sabbath-school, and
addressed the children.  I have some fear, that these institutions are not, in all cases, productive of the good that
might be expected, for want of more efficient modes of
teaching. Committing to memory what they do not understand, can profit the children very little. My second proposal, for holding family worship with the servants, has been
received with coolness, but not absolutely negatived. The
Lord will open up ways of usefulness for me. Read ninety
pages of the Rev. Thomas Scott's Life, exceedingly interesting.
" 5th. A very idle day. I find I cannot study to advantage without a plan.  I shall lay it down as a maxim, however short time I may stay in any place, to have my hours
allotted specifically to different engagements as far as such
an arrangement may be practicable.  For want of this, I
have lost much of the time I have spent at Dysart. Attended a missionary prayer meeting this evening, but was
in a very cold and careless frame of mind. I have felt for
some days, as if a veil were drawn over the things of another world.  I fear I am indulging habits of sloth and
luxury. In what am I denying myself? Read twenty
pages of Scott's Life. Was rather astonished at his idea,
(expressed in the narrative after his conversion,) that even
when a Socinian, his prayers were'spiritual enough' to




184      MEEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART.
find acceptance with God.  Ca;,n a prayer be listened to
by God, which is presumptuously offered up without any
regard to the Mediator whom he has appointed?  When
searching after the truth, Scott read none but religious
books for three years. Afterwards he returned to general
reading, and even felt a pleasure in perusing the classics,
and other works of taste.  I have read since I came, four
hundred pages of Godwin's History of the Commonwealth.
Hle advocates the cause of the Puritans in their political
conduct.  He dislikes the pompous and persecuting spirit
of the prelacy.  HIe seems to like Presbyterianism worse,
(as it then existed,) as having all the intolerance of Episcopacy, without its splendor. And he gives unqualified
praise to the Independents of these times, as the great
champions of unrestrained liberty, civil and religious.
" 6th. With my pupil three hours in the forenoon. One
hour walking, and one hour bathing. This runs away
with a great part of the day.  I am much pleased with
my pupil at present.  His disposition is amiable, and his
faculties acute.  His desire for knowledge is very great.
He has been amusing himself to-night in making a unziverse with little balls of wax stuck upon pins.  I feel very
thankful for a situation, in many respects, so agreeable as
the one I occupy. But I feel I am doing little actual service to the cause of my Lord. Read thirty pages of
Scott's Life. His prayers for his relations were eminently
answered.  I have felt this an encouragement to greater
fervency in prayer for those who are so dear to me according to the flesh. And yet, the fact that I derive encouragement from this instance of an answer to prayer, is a
proof of the weakness of my faith on the promises of God.
If I sufficiently believed them, I should not need particu



MEIMOIR OF JOHIN URQUIHART.               185
lar instances of their fulfilment, to encourage me.  Can
anything be surer than the promise of God? Finished the
first volume of Godwin's Commonwealth.  Very little conversation, and that exceedingly trifling and general. Whllat
can I do, in my present circumstances, for the good of this
family?  The Lord direct me! Read two chapters of the
Greek Testament.  Bed at eleven o'clock.
"8th. Yesterday I was so fatigued, that I wrote none
in my journal; and to-night I have a much better excuse
for putting it off, in a very painful headache; but I must
cultivate habits of regularity, and write something, however short. Yesterday, I completed my eighteenth year.
Hitherto hath the Lord brought me; and, in spite of much
wickedness and ingratitude, he contihiues to bless me.
How little have I done! Hitherto I have made my youth
an excuse for much inactivity! Will this be an excuse at
the bar of God? I have been much troubled these some
days, with abominably sinful thoughts.  Lord, cleanse
thou me from secret faults; and 0 keep back thy servant
from  presumptuous sins.  Read part of Scott's Life.Much struck with his remarks on practical preaching, and
the unpopularity to which his own system exposed him."
" TENNOCH SIDE, NEAR GLASGOW.
"14th. Arrived here night before last. —My journal
was neglected yesterday, in consequence of my papers
being mislaid. -Left Dysart on Satulday morning, and
arrived in Leith a few hours after, where I stayed till
Monday afternoon. — A very unprofitable visit. - Some
conversations with my kind and respected friends, Mr.
and Mirs. Alexander, I remember with  pleasure, but
scarcely anything else of my friends, whom I had an
16 *




186      MEMOIR OF JOHIN URQUHIART.
opportunity of seeing. I feel very comfortable here, and
have much to make me thankful to the great Father of
our mercies. Although I am disappointed in one great
object, (attendance on classes in Glasgow), which I had in
view on coming here, yet I trust the Lord has directed
me.  May I be enabled, faithfully, to fulfil the important
duties of my station, and to devote every moment of my
time to the service of my God! —Read Shakspeare's
Midsummer Night's Dream. —Never read a whole play
of this great poet before.  Some exquisitely fine passages;
and, throughout, the whole admirably true to nature.  But
how much that is revolting, even to a mind so partially
sanctified as mine!  Can it be right in a Christian to
travel over pages filled with vain imaginations, swearing,
and often gross obscenity, in order to arrive at some beautiful passage, which, after all, can only gratify or improve
his taste? The pearls are indeed fine, and present a great
temptation; but, after all, they are not worth the diving
for, or at least, the ocean that covers them is too perilous
to be needlessly encountered by so feeble an adventurer
as I. Read two chapters in the Greek Testament. What
a blessing that we have sublimer and purer joys than those
that are afforded by the bright, but transient flashes of
unsanctified wit, or the glare of a powerful, yet polluted
im-agin-ation!
"Thursday. — Rose at six — read one chapter of the
Greek Testament.  I am engaged with my pupil four hours
a day, viz. from seven to eight, and from ten to eleven,
A. M.; and from one to two, and from five to six, P. M.
IMy books are yet in Glasgow, and this has been an excuse
for idleness. Read another play of Shakspeare's. More
to disgust, and less to gratify in this, than in the last.  I




MEMOIR OF JOHN U RQUIIART.               187
cannot read these plays without being injured by them.
Wrote a letter to my dear Nesbit.  IReceived one from my
dear father. Have sat a considerable time this evening
trying to make verses.  Succeeded in manufacturing one
stanza.  I may say with the Rev. Thomas Scott,' God
has not made me a poet.' And I hope I shall profit from
his observation, that he was thankful for never having
attempted to make himself one.
" I almost despair of being able to introduce profitable
conversation. How difficult to fix that precise line of
duty, which timorous indecision dares not approach, and
which rash, unthinking zeal is sure to overstep!"
"TENNOCH SIDE, June 30, 1826.
"MY VERY DEAR CRAI - This is a solitary place.  I
am all alone. The sweets of friendship, and the joys of
*Christian fellowship, are to me now associated with the
remembrance of the days that are gone. But yet, I am
not alone; God is here.  And should duty'command me
to the furthest verge of the green earth, to distant, barbarous shores,' He is there too.  The'communion of the
saints,' is, indeed, a delightful privilege; but what is it, when
compared with that far higher privilege, which change of
circumstances cannot affect; even that'fellowship which
is with the Father, and with his Son, Jesus Christ.'
Every shifting scene of life that passes before me, convinces me more and more, that happiness has a very slight
dependence on our external circumstances.  They may
add to it, or diminish it; but they can neither give it, nor
take it away.  Mere animal gratification is enjoyed nearly
equally by all classes; all are equally subject to disease,
and if the rich seem to enjoy more of the good things of




188      MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHARTI
this life than others, they only seegm to do so. Luxury
has deprived them of the comforts of life, and has converted its superfluities into comfortless necessaries. Even
intellectual happiness, I believe to be more generally and
equally diffused, than is commonly imagined.  But the
truth is, there is no true happiness without the enjoyment
of God's favour.  How true is it, that  his favour is life;'
for without it, life deserves not the name; it is but a living
death.'Immo vero, ii vivunt, qui ex corporurm  vinculis
tanquam e careere, evolaverunt; nostra vero quw dicitur
vita, nors est.'  We are more highly favoured than the
ancient philosopher who wrote these words.  Even here
we may have glimpses of the celestial happiness.  Eternal
life is begun on earth. It is true, we may not walk in the
freedom of spiritual enlargement, till we have put off these
vile bodies; but even within their prison-house there may
be many an alleviation of our sufferings; we may be freed
from  those fetters that galled us sore, and deprived us
even of the little freedom which the bounds of a prisonhouse might permit. We may be gaining new victories
over the devil, the world, and the flesh, even while here.
Let it be our earnest endeavour to maintain this holy warfare within our breasts; and while we drink freely of the
fountain of life, let us not forget to present its vivifying
waters to that world, which is'dead in trespasses and
sins.'
" I have been looking over what I have written, and
find it is not like a letter at all. But I need make no
apologies to you.  I am  here, nearly eight miles from
Glasgow, and have been there only twice.  My pupil went
there yesterday with the family; and, as there was room
for me in the carriage, I went in the morning, and




MEMOIR OF JOHN URQU HART,                  189
returned in the evening.  Of course, I had not much
time to see the town.  I looked into the area of the college; a fine old, substantial building.  Their library, which
was the only room I went into, does not seem to be as fine
as ours.  Outrs! did I say? But you know what I mean.
The cathedral is a venerable building, though somewhat
disfigured by modern additions. The statue of our revered
Knox stands on a neighbouring hill.  Glasgow is blessed
with evangelical ministers in all denominations.  There, is
an institution I visited last night, with the plan of which
I was very much pleased.  It is a sort of religious coffeeroom.  There is a large hall, where about twenty different religious institutions hold their meetings; and a reading room below, where the Reports and other periodical
publications, connected with all the religious societies of
the day, are to be found. A book lay on the table, for
the insertion of hints, or inquiries on any subject connected with the great interests of Christianity.  In this
I found some remarks in the hand-writing of'our excellent Chalmers.' I have had an introduction to the nearest
parish minister; but have seen very little of him yet. I-Ie
told me that his church -was much too small for the parish,
- and that he believed the greater number of his parishioners were growing up likce heathens."
"TENNOCH SIDE, July 5, 1826.
"MY VERY DEAR FRIEND- I begin to feel anxious to
hear from some of you, although I believe the agreement
was, that I should write first. I am here as much shut
out from the world, at least, from what was the worlcd to
me, as I could be in the deserts of Africa, or the islands
of Japan.  I write, chiefly to beg you to send me a long




190      MEMOIR  OF JOIIN URQUHIART.
letter,- it is all of friendship I can now enjoy. You will
not expect much from this wilderness.  I have little to
write about that can interest you.  But why should I say
so, when there is a theme, which is ever delightful to the
mind of a Christian, and needs not novelty to give it
interest.  Yes, we have a joy which the world knows not,
and which no changes in our earthly circumstances can at
all impair.  The dearest earthly friends may be removed
from us, but there is a'friend that sticketh closer than a
brother.' Here I have no Christian friend; and sometimes my spirits sink very low, when I think on other
days.  But these are sinful thoughts.'The Lord gave,
and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of
the Lord.' Perhaps sonom path of usefulness may be
pointed out to me; but at present, I see little probability
of doing anything, except with my pupil.  I have been in
Glasgow twice.  1 met Mr. Erskine there, as well as Mr.
Ewing, &c.  All are against my being a missionary, but
I have heard no arguments against it that seem to me at
all conclusive.  What is doing in Edinburgh?  Have you
any intercourse with the few St. Andrian friends that are
in the great city?  Alas! for our little circle.  It is now
sadly broken up, and we never shall form  a little circle
again.  One of our number is in the south of England,
another in the north of Scotland, and all scattered abroad.
The fragments of the little community are in Edinburgh.
The'tria' are there; but, alas! they are no longer'juncta in uno.'*  But, I hope my lamentations are
groundless.  Have you no combinations for plans of usefulness either among yourselves, or of a more extensive
* I-e alludes to the St. Audlrw's University MIagazine, which had
this nmotto.




MEMOIR  OF JO HN  URQUIHART.             191
nature?  Something was talked of when I was in Edinburgh.  Has it been accomplished?  When do you go to
Kirkliston? Let me hear particularly of your operations
there.  There will be full scope for your most strenuous
exertions.  Can you suggest to me any practicable scheme
of usefulness? iDo favour me with a long letter."
Determined not to remain idle, notwithstanding the
obscurity and difficulty of his situation, after very considerable exertion, he succeeded in collecting a number of
young men together, and for their benefit, prepared a
very excellent address.  As it fully explains the nature
of the meeting which he proposed, it may suggest to some
others the importance of making similar attempts, by
which great good might be effected.*
About this time he appears to have laboured under
severe mental depression.  Of the cause of this no doubt
can now be entertained. It was, doubtless, symptomatic
of the insidious disease which was appointed by God to be
the messenger of his dismission.  That it was cherished
by the intense working of his mind, by his seclusion from
that kind of society which was congenial to his feelings,
and by anxiety respecting the accomplishment of his much
desired object, I feel equally assured.  I think it right to
give the following extract from his journal, which will explain some of the allusions in his letters.
"July 18th. Rose at seven.  Have suffered excessively
to-day from  mental depression, and  could assign no
specific cause for it. I am half-inclined to ascribe it to
* See Appendix L.




192      MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUIART.
the immediate agency of Satan, or some of his emissaries.
The Lord has been graciously pleased to restore me to
tranquillity; and I remember the former part of the day
as I would a terrific dream. I had the opportunity of
going in the carriage to Hamilton, and was in hopes that
the fresh breeze, and the laughing face of nature, would
dispel the gloomy darkness within my breast. But it was
all in vain; the malady raged with greater violence, so as
almost to make me dread real madness, and to recall to
my mind a fearful night of distraction last winter. I have
besought the Lord earnestly that this might depart from
me; and I believe that I owe my present tranquillity to
his gracious condescension in listening to my prayers.  I
feel, what my pride likes ill to admit, that I am a very
feeble creature; weak, not only in body, but still weaker
in mind! Is this a fit character for a missionary? In
this work I shall soon fail, except the Lord strengthen
me.  But even I may say,  I can do all things through
Christ strengthening me.' After all, I have forced myself to go through nearly all my regular studies to-day.
"Friday. - Have discovered much to - night of the
cursed pride, fickleness, and vanity of my heart.  Did
those who esteem me most, know me as I do myself, they
would abhor me.  I do abhor myself.  Spent half an hour
in prayer, in severe mental conflict. But even for this
conviction of sin, I will be thankful.  It is well to know
the worst, although I fear I do not know the worst yet.' Wtho can understand his errors?'
"' I know the remedy; and, blessed be God, despair has
not yet barred the way to it, although I fear, from the
little eftect my supposed application to the gospel has yet
produced, that I know not how to use the remedy. The




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUIART.               193
Lord can teach me.  The workings of my mind have been
severely painful for some days, although. in very different
ways.  Perhaps the Lord has given me over, like his
ancient servant, of whom  I have been reading, to be
tempted of Satan.  Has the Mediator'prayed for me,
that my faith fail not?'  I will believe that all this is
for good. May it lead me to know my own utter weakness, that so I may make the Lord my strength! Then
I may say with Paul,'when I am  weak, then am  I
strong.'"
"TENNOCIT SIDE, July 17, 1826.
"MY DEAR TRAIL - I believe, in regard to Christian
society, your circumstances very nearly resemble my
own: and if, in these circumstances, you feel as keenly as
I sometimes do, I know that a letter from an old companion will not be unacceptable, even though it contain'nothing new.'  Accept of my sincere thanks for the
notes of introduction you left for my friend and me.  I
was sorry that my short stay in Edinburgh permitted me
to pay but a very short visit to Wellwood Lodge.  A
Polish missionary was staying there when I called, with
whom I conversed a little. I was prevented from accompanying our friend, John Adam, on his missionary tour,
in consequence of illness. I believe he enjoyed it very
much. I am now fairly settled, within eight miles of
Glasgow, removed from every Christian friend who might
excite and encourage me; and sometimes I acknowledge I
feel very much depressed: but the Lord is ever near. If
I feel so faint-hearted here, I know not how I shall endure the living solitude of a city of idolaters, or the
extreme dreariness of a savage desert.  But,'through
17




194      MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUHART.
Christ strengthening me I can do all things.' What plans
of usefulness have you set on foot, since I saw you? Can
you suggest anything to me, that I can accomplish here?
Have you any particular plans in instructing your pupils,
which you can communicate, for I feel myself quite a
novice in the art of teaching; and I am aware that there
is no small responsibility connected with duties, that have
such an immense influence in forming a mind which is to
exist for ever; and which, in the remotest ages of its eternity, perhaps, is to bear, in some respects, the form of that
mould which was impressed on it in the earliest years of
its existence. Have you been thinking more of missions?
I find everybody dissuades and discourages me, urging the
great wants of our own country. I think I feel the claims
of our own land as strongly as some who urge them against
my plans. But still this does not prevent me from feeling
the immense argumentative force of the simple fact, that
nothing has yet been done for heathen nations, proportional to their vast extent; and nothing to fulfil the wide
command of our Lord. I have had two letters from Captain
Felix, pressing on my attention the state of Ireland. By this
time, our dear friend Nesbit has applied to the Scottish
Missionary Society.  I trust that more of our little circle
will follow his example. How unfortunate are the debates
about the apocryphal question! But why should I say
uvfortunate, as if they could happen without the knowledge of the great Head of the Church.
" 18th. I leave been reading the former part of my sheet
which was written last night, and find it is a very dull and
careless scrawl. I wish I could send you something better; but the fact is, I have been labouring under very uncommon mental depression, which renders me unfit for




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.                195
doing anything as I could wish. I have had a drive in
the carriage to IHamilton to-day, and feel rather better.
I know you are never troubled with this sort of affliction,
and may be disposed to laugh at it; but I can assure you,
it is ten-fold more distressing than bodily disease.  The
latter often adds to spiritual comfort; the former generally destroys it. But I am ashamed of having said so
much about my weaknesses; and assuredly I should not have
adverted to the subject, were it not as a plea for an early
communication from you.  Send me something to cheer
and console me.  Direct me to the great objects of eternity, and stir me up to do something in the cause of the
Lord. Although I am sometimes thus depressed, it is not
always so. The Lord has been very kind to me since I
came here.  I have been forced to seek all my enjoyments
in communion with God.  It is well, when we hasten after
other lovers, that He, who will have our whole heart,
should hedge up our way. And when he leads us into the
wilderness, and dries up many a source of what seemed
holy enjoyment, it is often not to punish, but to bless us,
to'speak comfortably' to us.  We do well, my friend, to
examine whether the Lord alone be the object of our
affections.  When surrounded by pious friends, who are
ready to praise, or, at least, to esteem us for our zeal in
furthering the interests of religion, it is difficult to determine the nature of our motives.  Those who went before
our Saviour in triumph to Jerusalem, crying Hosanna, &e.,
were probably afterwards found consenting to his death;
and even the boldest and most devoted of his chosen few,' forsook him and fled.' Are we ready to follow the Lord
through bad as well as through good report? Have we
ever yet been put to the trial?  Have you read Samuel




196     MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIIART.
Rutherford's letters? I have been delighted and humbled
by the perusal. How much of heaven may be enjoyed on
earth, if we will but care to seek for it. I feel that I
know nothing yet of Christ, or of fellowship with him.
Write very soon to your affectionate brother."
" TENNOCH SIDE, July 22, 1826.
"MY DEAR ANNE — Your verses pleased me much;
and with what else I have seen of your first attempts at
composition, lead me fondly to hope, that talents have
been bestowed on you, which, with due culture, and persevering application, may render you, I will not say
accomplished, for that is a vain thing, as the term is generally used; but to use an apparently humbler, yet, in
reality, far more honourable term, talents that may render
you useful. I say not this to make you proud, but to
humble you, and to encourage you to persevere.  You
know very little yet, you have much to learn. I may just
hint, that in your letter, I can observe a deficiency in one
of the MOST REQUISITE of all literary acquisitions. You
know what I mean. But in the present case, the hurry
in which your letter has evidently been written, is a sufficient excuse.  I like your verses.  The idea in the fourth
verse, I think, is truly poetical. But I would not have
you aim at being a poetess, my sister. Make it an amusement if you will, or a means of acquiring correctness and
facility of expression, but do not make it your AIM. The
most brilliant acquirements are not the most useful. Let
me remind you, my dear Anne, that you and I are born
to fill humble stations in this world, (and God be thanked,
it is so; the humblest are the happiest.) Do not aim,
then, at anything above your station. Do not court the




M E MO I R OF JON UQUA RT.               197
society of the rich and the gay; for, comparatively, I may
apply these terms even to the little sphere in which you
move; but choose your companions from those who have
the true riches of knowledge, and (if I may add a qualification you may not easily find) sterling piety.  The mzanners of your companions should not be overlooked; and,
by this expression, I do not so much mean the knowledge,
or ready repetition of a few kind-looking phrases, which
even the most unkind can learn, as that amiable and
obliging disposition, which is the politeness of the heart.
In the present state of society, however, a person who
wishes to be truly agreeable, will see the necessity of
attending to a few of those forms of kindness which pass
current in the world.  I did not mean to write so many
advices; but now that I have begun, I will plead the
authority, I will rather say, the affection of a brother, as
an excuse for adding some more.  Let me entreat you to
cultivate domestic virtues.  The Bible bids us not only
love and obey, but also honour our parents.  Be particularly careful to remember this, especially in regard to our
dear mother, to whom your little services may now render
considerable assistance.  Above all, my very dear sister,
let me entreat you to remember that we were not made
merely to figure for a little on the stage of this passing
world.  This life is but the infancy of an eternal existence; and yet, here the choice must be made, that shall
render all that is worth calling the life of an immortal
creature, perfectly happy, or perfectly wretched.  You
think you know the truths of the gospel, my sister. Do
you feel its influence?  Do not be even too sure that you
understand the message of glad tidings in the Bible.
]Many who now think they understand, will find hereafter
17*




198     MEIMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART.
that they have mistaken its meaning. But, 0 do remember! it is not enough to understand. Examine whether
Christ, and his atonement alone, be all your salvation. It
is easy to mistake.  We are never more apt to sleep the
sleep of a security, from which eternal death alone will
awake us, than when guarded from gross temptations by
protecting friends, accustomed from infancy to correct, or
at least, seemingly correct views of the gospel. My dear
sister, as you value your happiness, beware of a misplaced
hope of heaven. I do not cease to pray that the Lord
would make you his own. I should think my prayers in
part answered, did I know that you had been constrained
to pray with earnestness for yourself."
"August 2, 1826.
" MY VERY DEAR BROTHER - They say there is more
pleasure in hope, than in actual enjoyment; and, perhaps,
this is the reason why I have not written to you sooner.
You know I used to have a great aversion to letter writing;
but now that it is almost the only kind of Christian intercourse that is left me, you may guess that I regard it with
very different feelings. For a week past I have been
cheering my solitary hours with the thought, that I was
just about to unbosom freely all my feelings to my dear
John Adam, (a luxury, which is not the least precious
privilege of true friendship), and day after day, some
little trifle has seemed a sufficient reason for putting off;
while I believed the true cause of the delay has been, the
desire to indulge this pleasing expectation a little longer.
And now that I have sat down to write, I frankly acknowledge that I have little or nothing to say, - at least, in
the shape of news.  I left Dysart too late to see you




MEMOIR OF JO-N  UtRQUIART.               199
again in Edinburgh, whence I proceeded to this place of
exile, where I have now counted five or six tardy weeks
of unvaried sameness, excepting one or two visits to Glasgow and an occasional walk to Old Monkland Manse.
You know me too well to require me to tell you how I feel,
without a single Christian friend near.  The harp has
been often out of tune; and sometimes, I have feared that
its strings were about to break, when the Lord has again
tuned it to his own praise. Yes, my dear friend, I have
seen much of the deceitfulness of my own heart since I
came here. I thought I could leave all, and live happy
in a solitary desert, for the sake of Christ. But I find
that much of my happiness was drawn from cisterns, and
not from  the life-giving fountain.  And now that the
Lord has, in mercy, broken these, to lead me to himself,
I have been ready to weep as if my all were lost.  I fear
I have nmistaken love to Christians for love to Christ.  I
feel more reconciled to this banishment, when I think that
it may be intended to wean me from earth, and to fit me
more for the missionary life. I have hopes that I may be
honoured to be useful to my dear pupil.  He is a most
interesting boy; in our daily reading of the Scriptures,
he makes inquiries which delight me, and sometimes
astonish me. All things are possible with God.
"Monday evening - The above was written on Saturday
night, and your welcome epistle was put into my hand
yesterday morning. Your serious charges of carelessness
might require to be more seriously mnet, than in the above
nondescript rhapsody, which you see had anticipated
them; but too much of my sheet is now filled, to leave
any space for apologies. I leave you to make them for
me. I am rejoiced at your intention of sending a paper




200      MEMOIR  OF JOHIN  URQUB'ARTB
on missions to the Evangelical Maagazine.  It has a most
extensive circulation. My conscience has been sorely
reproaching me for my negligence on this subject.  I have
been partly terrified out of the idea of attempting publication, from the decided opposition our sentiments on this
subject have met with, when I have laid them before those,
whom I have, from infancy, looked up to as men mighty
in the Scriptures. Do not mistake me; my own convictions are by no means weakened. Every prayer deepens
their impression.  And at times of closer communion with
God, a brighter light seems to be shed on the path before
me.  My own conscience must be my guide; but I have
discovered so much of my own fickleness, and weakness
of mind, that I do fear to propose my sen iments as rules
of conduct to others.' Instead of being a teacher, I have
need that one teach me what are the first principles of the
oracles of Christ.' I have only begun to discover my real
character; and I honestly believe, that did any of my
friends know me as I know myself, they would be utterly
disgusted with me, and scarcely believe me a Christian.
But what has this to do with the subject? - Much. When
I think of myself, a poor weak-minded boy, -the creature of emotion, and almost the slave of circumstances,
entertaining opinions different from all my friends in
Christ, however strongly they are impressed on my own
mind, I have great misgivings when I think of presenting
them to others. I am glad to have one, at least, who
agrees with me.  Our comparison of the present generation in our land, to the Jews in the days of the apostles,
is very much disliked. The supposition, that we are called
to imitate the apostles in going to the Gentiles, Mr. E.
thinks quite enthusiastic.  I like your plan much.  It is




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUIART.               201
very comprehensive.  I hope it will be admitted, but I
hardly expect it. I have no Christian friends here; but
it is all well. I am forced to seek closer communion with
God. Yes, forced. How just is your idea of the refuqe.
I have been, at times, apt to murmur at being sent here;
but I am sure it is for good. I have seen practically illustrated, that man, at his best estate, is altogether vanity.
I have seen more of the wickedness of my own heart;
but more too of the preciousness and sufficiency of the
Saviour. My studies have all a bearing on the Bible;
and, I think, I study as much here as ever I have done
any where."
"August 10, 1826.'MY VERY DEAR FRIEND - I am really ashamed of
not writing sooner; and yet it has not been for want of
inclination. I have been waiting for an opportunity to
send; and I write this, expecting that I may be able to
send it by Miss Catheart. It is not often that a day has
passed without remembering you before the Lord. Now
that I have no Christian friend (indeed no friend at all)
near me, I find it, indeed, a delightful exercise, to meet
my brethren and sisters in the Lord at a throne of grace.
You have been long a prisoner, and I am now an exile.
Yes; I am indeed banished from all that I love in this
world; and I sometimes think that the Lord may be thus
preparing me for the trials of the missionary life, by
debarring me the privilege of Christian intercourse. I am
often much depressed; and this convinces me that I have not
yet given my whole heart to God. I think I can see that
I have been sent here for good.  The Lord often leads us
into the wilderness, to speak comfortably to us. Ile breaks




202      MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.
the cisterns we have hewed out for ourselves, to lead us
to the life-giving fountain.  It is perhaps well for us, when
commnuniou with God is our only enjoyment; and so it is
with me front necessity.
" I was glad to hear that you had had some little respite,
so as to be able to wait upon God in the assembly of' his
people.  t-ow amiable are his tabernacles! What must
heaven be, where the Sabbath is eternal, and the temple
is the Lord himself! -' Yet a little while,' (in your case
a very little while at the longest), 4and he that shall come,
will co(me, and will not tarry.'' I have been reading Samuel Rutherford's letters of
late, and have been much delighted with them.  What
advances he had made in the way of holiness! I think,
in the present day, Christians are apt to be content with
too little.  There might be more of that knowledge of
God and of his Son, which is eternal life, - even in this
world, if we would but seek for it more earnestly.  It is
not enough to enter the strait gate, we must also walk
in the narrow way. Sanctification is part of our salvation. And hence it is, that our most gracious Father
sees meet to visit his children (as you can testify) with
manifold afflictions and temptations, that the trial of their
faith being much more precious than that of perishable
gold, might be found unto praise, and honour, and glory,
at the al)pearance of Jesus Christ.  I doubt not, you can
testify that the furnace of affliction is a refining surface.
"My dear friend, I should value a letter from you very
much.  My experience in the Christian life amounts to
nothing more than a discovery of my wretchedness, and a
wish for something better.  I can write little to comfort
you, - I can only complain of short-coming. My own




MEMOIR  OF JOIN  URQUIART.               203
deadness and indifference, often make me doubt whether
I have yet tasted that the Lord is gracious.  I know not
anything so calculated to confirm and strengthen the faith
of an infant Christian, as the testimony of an aged saint,
— especially an aged sufferer, who can tell that all the
promises of God are yea, and amen.  It is true, our faith
should need the aid of no auxiliary evidence, when we
have the promise, -nay, the oath of Him who cannot lie.
But it does need it. I feel my faith often mingled with
distrust. And even when I can say'I believe,' I have
need to prefer the petition,'Lord, help my unbelief.' If
you are so much recovered, as I have some reason to hope,
from what I have heard, perhaps you may write a few
lines of encouragement to
Your most affectionate brother in the Lord."
"August 15, 1826.
" MY DEAR FRIEND- I thank you for your kind and
undeserved letter, and rejoice to hear of your attempt to
illuminate the dark places of our own land.  I am anxious
to hear of the success of your plans. I have been led in
the very consideration of the missionary question, to
regard more attentively the state of our own country as
to religious knowledge.  It has been the increasing argument of my friends, against my intention of going to the
heathen, that there is much yet to be done at home.  The
force of this argument, I feel to a certain extent; but I
find it is apt to be urged sometimes, by those very persons
who are slumbering on as if nothing were to be done at
all. There is much to be done at home; and there is need
for very vigorous exertion.  There are many, in this
nominally Christian country, who are quite ignorant of




204      MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHIART.
what true Christianity is.  This is, indeed, a dreadful
thought, when we consider how many true Christians are
scattered over the land.  Take the case of some deadly
bodily disease, (an illustration which has been so often
put), and think how we should look upon him who could
calmly sit still, and see his neighbour or his townsman
drop into the jaws of death, while he was acquainted with
a remedy, whose application, experience had proved to be
a certain cure.  Would it be an excuse for this indifference, that an unaccountable prejudice existed against the
remedy in question, or that it was one of the fearful
symptoms of the disorder, that the unhappy victim inmagined himself in good health? Suppose even further,
that dispensaries were established through the land, where
the medicine was distributed gratis, to all who chose to
apply. (But, alas! I almost had forgot that in order to
complete the analogy here, I must further suppose, that
at many, nay at the greater number of these dispensaries,
a counterfeit drug was given for the real elixir.)  Would
humanity think it too much, in such circumstances, to walk
from one scene of wretchedness to another, and earnestly
recommend to the unhappy sufferers, the use of a specific
of such sovereign virtue?  Is it true, that a malady is
actually raging in our own land, - in our own town, in
our own neighbour's house-it may be in our own family,
- a malady so dreadful, that the whole sum of human
wretchedness, in all its sad forms of bodily pain or mental
anguish, can give but a faint idea of it, and is indeed, but
one of its least feaeful consequences?  Is it true, I say,
that we believe such a fell disorder to be raging at our
very doors; and believe, too, that we have discovered a
sovereign antidote to its baneful influence, and yet scarce




MEMOIR OF JOIHN URQUHART.                205
put forth a finger to administer the balm of life to our
fellow-sufferers?  I do think, my dear sir, that private
Christians must do more than they do, if they would stand
clear of the blood of those who perish around them.
They are not called to minister in public, -but might
they not do much in preaching the Gospel from house to
house? In the supposed case of bodily disease, would it
be an excuse for indifference or neglect on the part of any
one who had the means and opportunity of usefulness,
that there were physicians in the land, whose business it
was to attend to the sick?  And is not the case quite parallel?  I did not intend to fill my sheet in this way; but
when I get into a subject, I often find it difficult to leave
it.  I forget that I am writing a letter, and not an essay.
I have attempted to get some people to meet with me
here; but there is no village quite near, and it being harvest, it has quite failed in the meantime; but I mean to
make another attempt after the harvest is over.  I am
confined, in the meantime, to private visiting, and the
distribution of tracts.  This, I think, a means of usefulness, which ought to be neglected by none who would attend to the injunction, -' In the morning sow thy seed,'
&c. I have thought a good deal of Ireland of late. It
has strong claims; still, I think the heathen have stronger."
"August 16, 1826.
"MY DEAR FRIEND -It has not been forgetfulness, or
want of inclination that has kept me from writing sooner.
I have often thought of writing; but I feel, that the whole
favour of this correspondence is on your side, for I have
little to communicate that can be interesting to you. My
only motive for troubling you with a postage, would have
18




206      MEMOIR  OF JOHN UJRQUHART.
been the hope of eliciting a letter from you in return; and
this, I thought too selfish a motive to allow myself to be
influenced by it. But, at your request, I will write'to you,
as the desire to comply with this will be a sufficient
apology for an uninteresting letter.  I am  here quite
retired from the world.  Colonel M        sees very little
company, and even with that little, I can mix as little as
I choose.  I dine, in general, with my pupil, (at my own
desire,) and spend nearly the whole day in my study.
This state of seclusion has its advantages and its disadvantages too. There is much time for the study of one's
own heart, and for the contemplation of an unseen world.
But the mind is apt to prey too much on itself. There is
none of that reciprocal sympathy, which is so delightful;
which, by dividing our griefs, can almost remove our sorrow; and, by partaking our happiness, does not diminish
but multiplies our joy. I have no one here who is likeminded with me; and in these circumstances, my spirits
sometimes sink very low. I know this is very sinful, for
God is here, and the access to his throne is here as free as
in the bosom of Christian society. This, indeed, is my
only enjoyment;
"'That were a grief I could not bear,
Didst thou not hear and answer prayer;
But a prayer-hearing, answering God,
Supports me under every load.'
"Sometimes when I enjoy a nearer approach to God, I
can, indeed, feel that the loss of Christian fellowship is
nore than made up; but, in seasons of coldness and indifference, there is none to stir me up, and nothing that can
give comfort. But it is well that it is so. It is well to be




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.               207
eompelled to have continual recourse to a throne of grace.
How sinful for a Christian ever to think of despondency,
with such glorious hopes, and such precious promises to
encourage him.  But sin will damp the most glorious
hopes, and unbelief will render unavailing the most precious promises. Perfect happiness can be attained only
by the attainment of perfect holiness: while sin wars in
the members, there must be a want of enjoyment.  I feel
that it is sin which separates between my soul and God.
I am sometimes discouraged to think that I have now
seemed to myself a believer for a considerable time, and
yet I look in vain for a progress in holiness and likeness
to God   If I have advanced at all, it has been in the discovery of my own utter worthlessness. I do feel more
than ever, that I am poor, and miserable, and wretched,
and blind, and naked. 0 that the Lord would discover
to me more abundantly the riches of his grace, and let me
feel more the presence of that Comforter, who is assuredly
with me, if I have not received the grace of God in vain.' I have few opportunities of usefulness here; and this
is sometimes a cause of sinful discouragement. I attempted
a meeting, which failed, owing to the hurry of the harvest!
I have visited most of the cottages near, and distributed
tracts, in which employment my little pupil is very willing
to assist me.  I have discovered one house of mourning,
a family that has been much afflicted; there is a willingness to listen to divine things.  I went with a person last
Sabbath, who preached on an outside stair, in one of the
lanes of Glasgow.  I confess that it was not without
trembling, and some degree of reluctance, that I consented
to conclude the service by prayer.  The people who
gathered around us, I am convinced, cannot be reached




208     MEMOIR  OF JOIHN  URQUIART.
in any other way.  0! to be willing to be accounted the
off-scouring of all things for Christ's sake. I have seen
Mr. Burnet, and have promised to take Ireland into consideration, in making up my mind as to the course of life by
which I can most glorify God. I still feel the claims of
the heathen to be the strongest, although some very highly
respected friends here, think I might be more useful at
home. I trust my only wish is, to know the will of God."
The following extracts are from various letters, written
to his friend, William Scott Moncrieff, in the months of
July and August.
"From what you say of your friend, I suppose he has
made an engagement with Mr. G. I trust it will turn
out for the mutual benefit of himself and his pupils; indeed,
why should I say, I trust? (which is always an expression
of some degree of distrust;) we know that all things work
together for the good of them that love God. I rejoice to
hear of your intended return to St. Andrew's; you must
stir up the embers of the flame that has been kindled.
There is much to be done, my dear fiiend, everywhere;
and I think every Christian, however obscure, must feel in
some degree with the apostle, that there is a woe pronounced against him, if he publish not the joyful intelligence with which heaven has favoured him. It is well
that death should sometimes deprive us of a familiar acquaintance, or a dear relative; for the death of thousands
whom we have never seen, or at least never known, has
been scarcely sufficient to prove to us, that we may die;
and all the warnings we receive fail of practically convincing us that we must.  How difficult to conceive the




MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUHART.                209
true ratio of the finite to the infinite, of this brief life to
that never-ending existence into which it ushers us! And,
if difficult to conceive, 0, how difficult practically to feel
it! There is something delightfully pleasing in the' little
while'`;rov'oov) of the New Testament, if we are waiting
for our Lord; but, if careless and indifferent, or afraid of his
coming, how alarming the idea, that' the Lord is at hand!'
Let us gird up the loins of our mind. Let us devote all
our time to the service of our Master;' now is our salvation nearer, than when we believed.'  Our friends are
parting from us on every side, and we are scattered over
the wide world.  It is all well;'this is not your rest.'
Let our hopes rest on nothing short of heaven. It is true,
that the communion of the saints on earth resembles the
intercourse of just men made perfect; but 0, what a resemblance!  How unlike these grovelling souls to the
spirits around the throne! And these corruptible bodies,
how vile compared with those immortal forms, which shall
be fashioned like the glorious body of the omnipotent Sovereign of the universe!  And even our communion with
God here, how distant, how much interrupted by sin, or
obscured by unbelief!  How few, and far between the
visits of our Saviour's love, when we think of that place
where they'cease not day and night to praise him;' and
where they have no need of a temple, for'the Lord God
and the Lamb are the temple thereof.' Let us hold fast
our confidence, and run with patience, looking unto Jesus;
and, ere a few more years have rolled over us, we shall
join that'multitude which no man can number.'
"' You could not have sent me anything more appropriate than Stewart's Discourses on the Advent.  You know
me too well to need to be told how I felt when separated
18 *




210      MEMOIR OF JOHIN URQUHART.
from  you all, and without a single individual to whom I
could speak with freedom on the subjects nearest my heart.
Mr. Stewart's book I have found a delightful companion.
If I can guess at his peculiar views of the Redeemer's
advent, through the veil of modesty which almost conceals
them, I am scarcely prepared entirely to agree with him.
I have been so accustomed to dwell with pleasure on those
brighter times to which prophecy seems to point, that the
bare possibility that the Lord may come to-day, or to-morrow, seems to blast all these delightful hopes;'a multitude, which no man can number, must first be gathered
out of every tribe, and kindred.' Still, as Mr. Stewart
observes, this may be very soon accomplished.  Oh, that
we may be looking for, and hastening on, the coming of
the day of God!
"' I have a great dislike to writing letters, but nothing
gives me greater pleasure than to receive them. I guess
that this is pretty nearly the case with some of my friends,
and therefore a consideration of the golden rule should
lead me to like the task of letter-writing better.  I am
most particularly anxious to hear from my friends, since
I came to this solitary place; and a friendly letter, always
pleasing, will now be doubly sweet. The words, and the
looks of friendship I cannot now enjoy. Its written communications are all that are left to me.  How unthankful
we are ever apt to be! What a privilege is it that we can
convey our thoughts to an absent friend!  Without the
noble invention of writing, a few miles would separate us
more effectually from our friends, than half the circumference of the globe can, possessed as we are of this wonderful medium of intercourse. But, after all, epistolary
correspondence is but a poor substitute for personal inter



M EMOIR OF JOHN  URQUHIART.              211
course. We have symbols to express our thoughts, but
we have no written characters that can express that peculiar vividness of impression, or tenderness of feeling which
is conveyed by the eye, the features, and the very tone of
voice of a present friend.  The words of a letter are in
some respects dead, like the characters that represent
them, while the words of the friend with whom we converse, and even the ideas, which these words express,
seem to borrow life and loveliness from the lips and countenance that give them utterance. I have been writing
several other letters to-day; and I believe that, in all of
them, I have been mourning over the loss of friends, and
lingering on the recollections of other days. And yet I
feel that it is wrong to do so. This is a world of change;
and, if our affections are set on any, even the worthiest
of the objects that flit before us, our happiness will be but
short-lived. If we be risen with Christ, let us set our
affections on things above. If we would faithfully serve
our Master, we must not look for a life of ease here, or
even of enjoyment; we must'endure hardness as good
soldiers of Jesus Christ.' I do little else than study, and
walk with my pupil, who is a very interesting boy. I
have only been to ride once; I went to call with Colonel
M        at Lord Douglas's, but my horse ran off with me
three several times; I was very thankful to have escaped
safe, and have not thought it prudent to risk my life in
such circumstances since.  Colonel M       promises to
get a pony, which I can ride, soon. Let it be our great
object in our letters to provoke each other to love and to
good works; for all is trifling, that does not bear directly
or indirectly on eternity."




212      MEMOI R OF JOHN URQUIIART.
"' I relish my solitude much better than I did. I am
utterly confounded to think of the unnumbered mercies
the Lord has heaped upon me, and on the discontented
ungrateful feelings, I have often indulged.  I have had a
long walk this evening, visiting from cottage to cottage,
with the view of collecting a few young people to form a
weekly meeting.  Great backwardness is manifested; and
I have but faint hopes of its succeeding.  I regret that I
had so little Christian intercourse with you, and my other
friends, in Edinburgh.  I find that the bustle of travelling, anl the excitement of new scenes and new circumstan ces, have a strong tendency to destroy spirituality
of mind."
A letter from his friend C., appears to have contained
some intimations of a very afflicting and painful nature,
respecting the workings of his mind.  It produced the
long letter, which follows:' MY EVER DEAR C. - Your last letter was, indeed, a
most overwhelming letter, and did I really know any
remedy for your mental distress, it were indeed cruel to
have delayed so long to administer it. But I have been
perplexed and confounded. I have resolved to write and
yet tremble to take up my pen. I have delayed thus long,
to meditate and to pray.  When the spirit of my friend
was wounded, - so severely wounded, I feared to take the
knife into my own unskilful hand; and it seemed to me
wisest to apply to the great Physician of the soul. The
more I have thought of your case, the more I feel that it
is beyond the power of human relief. I have done all I
can. I have entreated Him, who alone can bind up the




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.              213
broken spirit, to send relief. He knows, from dread experience, the depths of temptation; he has experienced
the horrors of an hour, when God seemed to have forsaken
him, and the power of darkness appeared to rage triumphant. I write in the full hope, that ere now, your darkness has been dispelled by light from above; for it is light
from Heaven alone, which can dispel such darkness. You
see, I have taken a large sheet of paper at your request;
but it is only because of that request: for really, I can
pretend to give no consolation.  I can only direct you to
a higher source; but I can do so with the fullest confidence, that there you will assuredly find it.
"' The metaphysics of natural religion I have studied
but little; but if I can judge from that little, it seems to
me, that the pretended demonstrations of the immortality
of the soul, and the moral attributes of God, are little
better than proofs how profoundly and ingeniously man
can trifle. Much solid argument may be expended in the
investigation, and many an ingenious method of argumentation discovered. We may have logically refuted, or
appeared to refute, the objections of an opponent; but when
we come to retrace all the steps, we find that no lasting
impression is produced, - nothing satisfactory attained.
Such discussions seem to me, to end in nothing more than
the ingenious and well-calculated moves in a game of chess.
We have had some intellectual amusement; and perhaps,
too, we may have won the game, -but that is all.  I have
lately read the third volume of a novel called Tlremaine,
where the arguments of Clark, &c. seem to me well condensed, and convincingly stated; but the above was my
impression on perusing them. By the way, the above is
no ordinary novel; it is well worth a reading. The clear,




214      MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.
the acute, the matchless Brown, seems, on thins subject, a
trifler. Indeed, the dark cloud of mystery which veils
the spiritual world, gives us a liberty to imagine of it what
we please, and a little ingenuity is all that is necessary to
seem, to prove, what we imagine, in a region wholly unknown.  The more we think, the more we are persuaded
of the reality of our own fancies, as when we gaze on the
shapeless masses of coal in a fire, or on the clouds of a
confused sky, our imagination can picture forth the outlines of animals, or castles, or forests, or any thing, which
seem to grow more and more distinct the longer we gaze.
But where have I wandered to? I might have told you
in one little sentence, that I have felt these metaphysical
reasonings to be as unsatisfactory as you do, who have
dived deeper into their profundities.  Let me say, however, before leaving this tantalizing subject, that I do
think the existence, (and if the existence, of course the
natural attributes of God), abundantly proved by the objects around us.  For this, Dr. Brown says, and I think
truly, that we have not to search far amid the mysteries
of nature, to find proofs; far less to tread the labyrinths
of a priori argumentation. He who sees not a Deity in
the marks and designs displayed in his own body, or in
many of the most familiar objects around him, will not be
convinced by demonstration itself.
" To leave this then, - Iow delightful the facts of the
gospel and the well-accredited testimony of an eye-witness
from the world of spirits! But I know the dreadful subject, which is the cause (shall I say, which was the cause)
of your doubts and your distress.  iillions created for a
moment's giddy pleasure, - and then an eternity of unmingled wretchedness.  Ah, my friend, the argument has




MIEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIIAIRT.              215
struck my mind too with overwhelming force; and its
stroke has cut the deeper, edged, as it has been in my
case, (I believe in yours too), with the poignant reflection,
that some whom I hold dearest'accordiyn to the flesh,'
seem, at present, to be walking on to the gulf of eternal
perdition.  But why should I introduce this here?  You
can sympathize with me.  Oh, if there is ever a time that
this proud heart can think with real delight of its own
insignificance and ignorance, — it is, when oppressed by
this awfully mysterious subject.  When my mind has been
darkened by presumptuous thoughts regarding the justice
and mercy of the Eternal, the feeble ray of a single twinkling star has seemed like a ray. of hope; and the conception of myriads of such worlds, or clusters of worlds, if
it has not dispelled the darkness of the soul, has at least
given the certain expectation, that soon it WILL be dispelled. What are we, that we should fathom the counsels
of the eternal and omnipotent Jehovah?'Who art thou,
O man, that repliest against God?' Has not God revealed to us enough, to warrant this trial of our faith, especially when the express assurance is given, that a time is
coming, when we shall' know as we are known?'
"After writing this long letter, I am almost ashamed
of it. I have written, as if I were combating the arguments of an infidel, instead of attempting to console a
Christian brother, whom the adversary has been permitted
to attack. It would, indeed, be cruel to heal up a cankering wound, ere it had been probed to the very bottom;
but I think I am not guilty of this, when I say, that even
in that most dismal letter, there are the proofs of a regenerated soul. Peter was given up to the temptations of
Satan, that he might be shown his own weakness. Some




216     MEMOIR OF JOHN UURQUHART,
of the most eminent servants of God have been left to
wander even into the dreary regions of atheism for a while,
as if to show their own depravity, when unassisted by
divine grace.  0 do not talk of the unwilling rejection
of a God! All atheists are wilful atheists.  This, I must
believe, while I believe the Bible. God has had some end
in view, my dear friend, in giving you up to these dreadful thoughts.  I trust he will bring good out of seeming
evil, and that this severe trial will lead you to lie more
humbly at the foot of the cross, and to put less confidence
than ever in the speculations of a bewildering philosophy.
Excuse - no, I will not say excuse, I have spoken with the
freedom of Christian love..I have not half answered your
letter, and yet my paper is quite full.
" Remember me to our dear Nesbit, if he is still with
you. The same post that brought your last, gave me the
delightful news of another added to our little band of
Christian missionaries, our much respected Rentoul.  I
have had a letter to-day from John Adam, making the
very solemn proposal of joining him, in a mission to
Madras, to leave this country in two years. Pray for my
direction.  We return to Dysart in the middle of next
month, to be there for some time. I am glad of this, for
here I am alone as to Christian intercourse. If I were
actively employed in the service of the Lord, I think I
could be happy in a desert; but here I do little or nothing.
In study, I have done a little; I have read the first book
of Samuel in Hebrew; three books of the Anabasis of
Xenophon, which seems to throw some light on the style
of the New Testament.  In Theology, I have studied
Paley's Evidences pretty carefully, and Bishop Lowth's
Prelections. I have nearly finished Dr. Pye Smith's




MEMOIR OF JOHIIN URQUHART.                217
Scripture Testimony to the Messiah (a most interesting
work, which I beg earnestly to recommend to your perusal),
and have just commenced Mosheim's Church History.
It is late, but I can scarcely give over writing."
His friend, Mr. Herbert Smith, having proposed to him
to assist, and co-operate with him, in some plans of usefulness which he was pursuing, it produced the following
letter in reply: -
"TENNOCH SIDE, August 30, 1826.
"MY DEAR FRIEND - If I have delayed a few days in
answering your very interesting letter, you can easily guess
the reason. Your proposal demanded consideration and
prayer. Did I make my own feelings the standard of my
conduct, I should, in all probability, without hesitation,
have answered your kind proposal with a hearty affirmative. Two circumstances, in my present situation, have
contributed not a little to depress my spirits, the want of
Christian society, and an exclusion from active exertion
in the cause of the gospel. You can conceive then, how
delightful to my imagination was the picture of a truly
Christian companion, co-operating with me in acts of evangelical usefulness, and exciting me to more zealous exertion.  Were inclination my guide, then, you see how
gladly I should have embraced your kind offer. But this
would have been wrong.  In forming any plan, we must
not calculate on our own enjoyment merely. The Christian must look to higher objects.  His question must be.'Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?' On considering
the matter, therefore, in this light, I feel constrained, (in
spite of my own longings to comply,) for the present at
19




218     MEMOIR OF JOH N URQUHART.
least, to decline personally co-operating in your interesting
scheme. The difference of our religious sentiments, in a
few points, has not influenced me in the slightest degree
in my decision, except in the single point that it occurred
to me, that the fact not of my being, but of my being called
a Dissenter, might probably impede, more than your liberality may allow you to suspect, the promotion of a plan,
which, from its very nature, must depend a good deal for
its success, on the co-operation of churchmen of all descriptions.  Had I thought of accepting, this must have made
me hesitate; but as it is, other reasons have determined
my opinion, that it is my duty to remain in Scotland for
some little time.
" There is a sort of understanding, (although no positive
agreement,) that I remain in Colonel Morland's family for
a year. I have now been nearly four months. Here I
have only one pupil; and, of course, much time for study,
which I think invaluable, as I know not how soon my
opportunities of study may be past. I am particularly
anxious to study closely the original Scriptures, in case
of being employed in the very responsible work of translation. This reconciles me to a retirement from active
exertion in the meantime, although even in that point, I
hope to be able to do a little in the neighbouring cottages.
I should feel it cowardly to fly from a station where God
has placed me in his providence, perhaps from some
gracious purpose, merely because it deprives me of some
pleasures, for which the Lord himself knows well how to'compensate. The soldier in the camp must not murmur,
because he wants the comforts of domestic happiness. To
all human appearance, indeed, there is little prospect of




MEMOIR OF JOIHN URQUIHART.              219
my doing anything here, to promote the knowledge of the
truth, except through my pupil.
" On the subject of missions, every prayer strengthens
my purpose. I am aware of the glare of romance, which
fancy may throw round the idea of Christian expeditions
to foreign lands; but I have tried to make due allowance
for this, and have prayed that a youthful imagination
might not lead me astray.  The result is, I am every day
more and more convinced, that my convictions in regard
to this matter, are founded on Scripture. It is impossible,
within the limits of a single sheet, to state the grounds of
these convictions. I have written something on the subject, which I may, perhaps, have some opportunity of
communicating to you in one shape or other. I have taken
medical advice, and am told, that my constitution is more
likely to stand in a warm climate, than if it were more
robust; but no definite opinion can be given on the subject.
The same post which brought yours, brought a letter from
our friend John Adam, announcing his intention of going
to Madras in two years, and asking me to accompany him.
This is at present under consideration, and my decision
may affect my more immediate plans. My present plans
are, if the Lord will, to remain here till May or June next
year, and then pay a farewell visit to my dear relations,
before leaving them for ever in this life. It is a long time
to look forward to next summer; but should you continue
where you are, and think I could at all assist you, I may
then, by the divine blessing on my studies, be able to give
more efficient assistance for a month or two. In the
meantime, I shall pray for your success, and perhaps you
will \have the kindness to let me hear soon how matters
prosper."




220      MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.
Various friends interested in the religious welfare of
Ireland, having requested him to take its claims on himself into consideration, he wrote the following letter to the
Rev. John Burnet, of Cork, which I insert, not only as a
part of his history, but to show the comprehensive views
he could take of a subject, and how deeply he interested
himself in everything which related to the kingdom of
Christ:T' ENNOCH SIDE.
"MY DEAR SR - I have had but a short notice of this
opportunity of sending. The following are the queries that
occur to me at the moment:"1. What is the proportion of professed Protestants to
Roman Catholics; and what the state of religious knowledge and practice among the former?
" 2. What the proportion of evangelical ministers in the
Church of Ireland?
"' 3. What the number and character of Protestant Dissenting ministers?  I include Presbyterians of course.
"4. Are any Itinerancies undertaken by resident Irish
ministers, and to what extent?
" 5. What is the number and character of the Hibernian
Society's Agents?  Are the readers also preachers, or are
they all pious men? Of course, you understand me to
mean, as far as our imperfect judgment can decide.
"6. What is the number of the Hibernian Society's
schools, and how taught? Are the schoolmasters understood to be pious men? Is religious instruction the professed object of these schools, or only common education?
". Does the Hibernian Society support any preachers;
and if so, how many? Are the two you mentioned, their
agents?




MiEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUHARTo               221
"8. Do the people manifest a willingness to hear?
And can you allude, in general terms, to the success that
has attended the efforts already made?
"These queries will, at least, show you, my dear sir,
how ignorant, perhaps how criminally ignorant I am, of
the state of the interesting country in which you labour.
I could multiply more inquiries, of a similar description;
but I think, under these, you may arrange any information your time may permit you to communicate. If anything else should be suggested by these, and your engagements permit, you will have the goodness to mention it.
I should be glad to hear arguments too, if any particularly
present themselves.  I promise solemnly to consider the
matter before the Lord, and to lay it before such of my
companions, as I think, might be fitted for the work.  In
the meantime, I honestly acknowledge to you, that I feel
the claims of other parts of the world to be stronger. I
trust my only wish is to know the will of God in this matter.  I feel my ignorance and incapacity to judge, but he
leadeth the blind by a way they know not.  When you
see Captain Felix, have the kindness to give him my respects.  Excuse this very hurried letter, as it gets late.
The Lord bless you in your labours."
While this letter shows his willingness to submit to
whatever might appear to be the will of God in regard to
the field of labour; it still discovers how much his heart
was set upon the great object to which his life had been
devoted.  In the letter which follows, to Mr. Adam, he
gives full scope to his feelings, and refers again to the
difficulty of obtaining the consent;of his friends.
19*




222      MEMOIR  OF JOHN URQUItART,
" DYSART ITOUSE, September 17, 1826.
"MY VERY DEAR JOHN — I dare say you expected an
answer to your interesting letter long ere now, and have
been attributing my silence to my wonted carelessness.
ZBut in truth, this is not the case. I was cheered with the
prospect of a short visit to Perth, soon after receiving
yours, and I thought it better to defer writing till I should
know the mind of my friends concerning your very important proposal.  My own opinion, excepting in so far as
that of my friends and other circumstances might affect it,
was fixed almost as soon as I read your letter.  With a
deep and increasing conviction of the duty of going to the
heathen, and with a strong impression of the advantage,
and in my case, almost the necessity of a known and tried
companion; this latter circumstance, seemed to me of
itself, sufficient to turn my attention to a portion of the
missionary field, of which, I confess, I had never before
seriously thought. The language of Ruth to Naomi, is
the sincere expression of my feelings, when I read your
proposal. But notwithstanding this, I do not yet feel
quite at liberty to seal the contract, as you express it.
"On consulting my friends I was astonished to find
them even more opposed than before. There seemed to
be even some disappointment, that I had not, by this
time abandoned the idea of being a missionary altogether.
IIad the impulse on my mind been a mere boyish fancy,
in all probability, this would have been the case, exposed
as I have been to influences altogether unfavourable. But
I trust there is no enthusiasm in supposing, that the impression has been made by the Spirit of God, when time
and meditation and prayer, make it deeper and deeper.
Still my relations are quite against my views. The first




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUIIART.               223
argument is weakeness of constituition. Most unfortunately
I happened to have a little cold on this visit home; and
you remember I was rather unwell when you were with us.
These trifling circumstances make my fidends feel more
confident in their argument. I confess that I have felt
the force of this objection very strongly; but, after due
consideration, it does not seem to me sufficiently strong
to warrant the plea of inability to enter on missionary
work. I consulted the physician of Colonel Morland's regiment on the subject. His opinion quite coincided with what
I had often heard before - that no physician could predict
how any particular constitution would suit a hot climate;
but, in general, persons of a thin s)pare hEabit were more
likely to stand, than those who were stouter. This argument, you see, then, I could get over, but there is yet another, which my parents have strongly urged, and which
is of so painful a nature, that were you not my most
intimate friend, I should not lay it before you.
I confess that, all along, it has weighed deeply with me,
and has produced a greater willingness to submit to the
wish of my friends, in putting off, for a little, the final
decision. But we must not be distrustful. All things are
possible with God.  How far ought these circumstances
to weigh with me? I confess, they make me hesitate to
give you a decided answer, which else I should do, with all
my heart, in the affirmative."
The last letter which I received from him, was dated
September. In this letter, he expresses himself with his
accustomed affection, and unbosoms to me all his anxieties.
Part of it, as well as of the preceding letter, I am obliged to




224     MEMOIR OF JOXIN URQUHIART.
withhold, from motives of delicacy, though it relates to
his chief difficulty in accomplishing the acquiescence of his
parents in his leaving this country.
"DYSART HOUSE, September, 1826.
"MY VERY DEAR SIR - I know, that of late, the fatigues
and anxieties of public business must have pressed on you
with more than ordinary severity; and when at home, a
few days ago, I heard that in addition to this, you had
been visited with bodily distress. In these circumstances,
it may seem presumptuous in me to encroach on your time
and attention, but I trust you will forgive me. Though
circumstances have separated both of us from the place
Where I was wont to look up to you as my pastor, where
our family regarded you as one of their most intimate and
most highly valued friends; yet I cannot help feeling, as
if these close and endearing relations subsisted between us
still. When in perplexity how to act, my mind involuntarily turns to you as the person most fit to direct me;
and when any affliction distresses our family, I still seem
to feel that we have a claim upon your sympathy, even
though I know that you are surrounded by so many, who
have now stronger claims upon your affection and your
friendship.  It may be wrong to feel thus; but if so, I
must just repeat it - you will forgive me.
" When I wrote last to you, I had the intention of offering myself to the London Missionary Society this summer.
The only impediment was the opposition of my friends.
I had already refused a good situation, without consulting
my father. He was rather displeased. On the offer of a
second, I thought it right to submit to his decision. His
letter desiring me to accept, and your answer to my last




MEMOIR  OF JOHIN  URQUHART.             225
letter, came by the same post. I was a good deal perplexed; but at last, against my own inclination, I submitted to parental authority. I thought this acquiescence
might reconcile my parents to my ultimate design, which
I still kept steadily in view. In this I am disappointed.
They seem to have expected that time and new scenes of
life would efface the impression.  On a visit home, last
week, I found their opposition to my leaving this country
more determined than before.    *      *      *
"' I will never cease to hope, I will never cease to pray.
These are calamities, which my remaining in this country
cannot alleviate, and yet they unnerve all my fortitude in
the view of parting. Tell me how far you think this trying dispensation of Providenee ought to weigh with me.
Mr. Adam writes me, that he thinks of offering himself to
the London Society, with a view to a station at Madras.
I know the directors do not give the young men their
choice as to the station they are to occupy; and, indeed,
it would be wrong to do so. I trust I am ready to go to
any part of the world, where they think I may be most
useful; but still I feel that the presence of a tried and
beloved friend would be a mighty stimulus to exertion,
and a great solace in trials.  He talks of going in two
years. Did the directors agree to such an arrangement,
when should I be required to come before them? In my present situation, I have only one pupil, so that I have a few
hours for study.  I have applied pretty diligently to
Hebrew this summer; and have studied carefully, Paley's
Evidences, Dr. Pye Smith's Scripture Testimony, Bishop
Lowth's Prelections.  I go on with Mosheim's Church
History, and Horne's Introduction.  We are, at present,
at the Earl of Rosslyn's house here, where we shall con



226      MEMOIR OF JOHN UIRQUHART.
tinue three or four weeks. I cannot tell what my plans are
at present. I am quite confused. I think I shall stay
over the winter, at all events, in this family, unless the
Lord, by the indications of his providence, seem to point
out some other path. I find Lord Rosslyn exceedingly
kind and attentive. I trust, the peep I have had at the
pomp and luxury of the world, have tended to convince
me more decidedly, that it is an unsatisfying portion. My
pupil gives me great satisfaction.  He has a very good
mind. He is only ten years of age, and yet enters with
delight into the study of astronomy; philology he is also
very fond of. I have conscientiously taught him the doctrines of the gospel. His judgment approves them; and
sometimes I have thought his heart was impressed. If
the Lord choose him for himself, he may be eminently
useful in the Church. His talents, and family connections,
open the way to very high stations."
He refers in this letter to his reading, of his diligence
in which, abundant evidence remains among his papers.
Besides attention to the Hebrew and Greek Scriptures,
and to his classical reading, he abridged during this summer
and autumn, with great accuracy, Horne's Introduction,
Paley's Evidences, Dr. Smith's Scripture Testimony to
the Messiah, and Mosheim's Ecclesiastical History. That
he was not inattentive to other things, is very evident from
his letters.
In consequence of this letter, I wrote to his father some
time after, urging the necessity of no longer opposing a
desire which seemed so evidently of God, and pointing
out the consequences of persisting in resistance. I believe this, and other things, contributed to produce the




MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART.                 227
desired effect; and John was satisfied, that when the time
came, he would no longer meet with opposition from his
parents.  It is gratifying to me to be able to state this;
as it must be a source of satisfaction to them now, to reflect that their resistance could have had little or no
influence on the cause of his early removal. My answer to
this letter, which was delayed in expectation of hearing
from his father, he never received.  It was written the
day on which he died, and was received in Glasgow on the
day of his funeral. A few more letters and papers will
conduct us towards the closing scene.
" DYSART HousE, September 28, 1826.
"MY VERY DEAR FRIEND -I am covered with shame
on reading your very kind letter, and especially on observing its date.  I will make no apology, but simply beg you
to forgive me, and not to attribute my carelessness to
want of affection, or even to forgetfulness of one of my
dearest friends, and most highly esteemed companions.
" Your letter was, indeed, a refreshing one. Affliction
is a blessing; and, I doubt not, that on looking back on
the late trying dispensation of the Lord towards your
family, you feel it good for you to have been afflicted.
Your letter found me grovelling in the dust, wrapt in
selfishness, and sunk in depression; brooding over my
own vileness, and mourning the loss of privileges I had
never deserved; yet, regardless of the inestimable blessings which still remained.  Such a letter was quite the
medicine for my distempered mind. I forgot myself in
sympathizing with your affliction; and the deep impression
which a near view of eternity had made upon you, was, I
trust, in some degree communicated to myself. 0 how




228     MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.
difficult to keep up a rational conviction of the relation
between time and eternity! How does our practice give
the lie to our profession!
"' 29th. I have been here a fortnight, and am likely to
remain a fortnight longer, for which I am truly thankful.
Here I am surrounded with Christian friends; and the
value of such a privilege I feel more than ever, since I
have had some experience of its loss. There is, indeed,
an inexpressible heaviness in having no one like-minded.
I have temptations here too, but I trust the Lord will
uphold me. I am a good deal alone; but I must mingle
a little with the society here; and to one accustomed to
move in the humblest walks of life, the drawing-room of a
peer is not the place to learn humility, or to be more
deeply impressed with the realities of an unseen world.
Yet, I trust, this peep at the luxury and pomp of the world
may be sanctified to me. In what very trifling do the
votaries of fashion spend a life, which must determine their
condition in that eternal state, into which time soon will usher
them! Surely, man at his best estate, is altogether vanity.
I have just come from the sick bed of one of the servants,
who has been ill since I was here last.  He is in a very
interesting state; and, I trust has found comfort in looking to Jesus. I am anxious to hear of your brother's
parish. I trust the Lord causes his work to prosper. I
know you have been active in assisting him. Tell me the
nature of your exertions. Herbert Smith was to begin,
when I heard from him, meetings like ours in St. Andrew's.  Henry Craik and John Brown have commenced
them in Exeter. Did you see Henry before he left? You
know he succeeded Nesbit, who will be in Edinburgh soon.
John Adam  means to go to Madras, probably in two




MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART.                 229
years.  He proposes that I accompany him.  I am in
considerable perplexity how to determine.  Pray for me,
that I may not be left to do my own will.  Perhaps you
know that W. Alexander, and W. Scott Moncrieff, return
to St. Andrew's this winter.  What are your plans?
" I have been a good deal depressed at the thought of
my uselessness.  I have done little to promote the glory
of God this summer; and in study, I have effected very
little. My pupil gives me encouragement. I trust his
mind is pretty thoroughly imbued with those precious
truths, of which I found him very ignorant. At times he
has seemed affected. The Lord deepen and preserve these
impressions. Last Saturday night, I was much interested
and affected by what he said. In the middle of our usual
exercise, he stopped, and said very earnestly,'Eternity!'
Mr. Urquhart,'eternity! I have had a thought of that
which I never had before.' Unwilling to interrupt his
feelings, I paused, and fixing his eyes on the fire, he said,
in a little, with a tone of deep earnestness:' Well, I
never was impressed till now with the necessity of believing immediately on the Lord Jesus Christ.'  Such impressions may wear off; but I trust they will return. I
am not without the hope, that the Lord may raise up this
child to be eminently useful in his church. He is a very
original thinker, and pursues science and literature with
an ardor that is not common at so early an age. I am
not sure whether to address to Edinburgh or Kirkliston.
I enclose this to our mutual friend, W. Scott, who will
know where to find you. Write soon, and be particular
in telling your doings and your plans, to your ever
affectionate, &c.
20




230     MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUHART.
" DYSART HousE, October 9, 1826.
"MY VERY DEAR SISTER -- I have been long expecting
to hear how my father arrived, &c. And I suppose, from
this long silence, you expect me to write first. I do not
remember what arrangements my father made about writing, when I saw him; but I certainly had the impression,
that, as I had more to excite anxiety than you, I had the
best claim to have my anxiety first relieved. How did my
father arrive? I-low are you all, in regard to health, &c.
Htow is David, the person about whom I am most anxious?
These and a thousand other such questions, I should like
much to have answered. I beg that a letter may be sent
soon, as, for aught I know, we may leave Dysart in a few
days. I was much pleased with your letter, my dear
Anne, and hope for a frequent renewal of the pleasure I
have in hearing from you. You ask me to write to you
about religion, and I believe the request proceeds from
your heart: for, I cannot think you would allow any motive whatever to make you trifle with sincerity on a subject
of infinite importance. You know the absolute necessity
of decision in this matter. Persons of amiable dispositions
are apt to be moulded into the sentiments of those around
them, almost without the consciousness that the opinions
they have adopted are not their own, and have never had
any solid foundation in their own judgment; and, probably, have never made any serious impression on their
own heart.  We must think and feel for ourselves, as
every one of us shall have to answer for himself to God.
I have nothing new to write you, my dear sister, on the
subject of religion. All my little experience of a deceitful world, and a still more deceitful heart, tends only to
confirm me in the belief of those grand truths, which the




ME MOIR OF JOHN  URQUIIART.              231
Lord has permitted us to know from infancy.  When the
heart is overwhelmed with guilt, there is nothing can give
comfort, but the consideration, that Christ has made a full
atonement; and the repeated declarations of Scripture,
that, if we believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, we shall be
saved.  The gospel cannot be believed, till we feel that we
are guilty. It is one thing to think of the death of Christ,
when we have no apprehensions about our state in a future
world; and a very different thing indeed to catch a glimpse
of this way of escape, when justice has shut up every other
avenue, arid the wrath of God seems ready to burst upon
the soul, which feels itself to be accursed.  Aye, then we
can estimate, in some degree the value of a pardon, which
the Son of God had to leave heaven to procure; we can
then tell something of what is meant by having peace with
God; we experience the blessedness'of the man whose
iniquities are pardoned.' Now this guilt and exposure to
the wrath of God, is not an imaginary case, into the belief
of which we may work ourselves.  It is the plain matter
of fact. The Bible describes it most plainly, as the state
of every son and daughter of Adam. Why then will we
shut our eyes to it, and rest secure and contented, without
applying to the remedy that has been provided?
"It is the great evil in letter-writing, that we can
scarcely enter on a subject, when we are compelled to
leave it.  Nothing worth notice has occurred since my
father was here. I have seen a little more of the folly of
the world, and have experienced more of the weakness and
worthlessness of my own heart.  I have written to John
Adam, about Madras, but have not yet received an
answer."




232      MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUIART.
" TENNOCH SIDE, October 26, 1826.
"MY DEAR SISTER —I believe you owe me a letter;
but as I am not very punctual in paying my debts in that
way in general, it may perhaps atone for some long delayed epistle, to have sent one, at least, before it was due.
I often think that my letters are too abstract to interest
you, and that this discourages you from writing freely to
me.  I have seen parts of the country you have never
visited, and have sometimes thought of sending you some
descriptions of scenery, &c. But really, I have no head
for description. Trees, and fields, and rivers occur everywhere; and were I to tell you what I have seen in that
way, it would only recall the scenes you yourself are
familiar with; for I have not the tact of classifying and
arranging these elements of natural description, so as to
form any distinct picture of a particular landscape. But
I have made a journey lately, where there were no trees,
no fields; there was a river, indeed, beside us, but fish
never swam in it; and in the air, far around, a bird had
never been known to fly. After this mysterious introduction, I feel obliged to apologize for my subject. But
after all, I can assure you, though you may hear people
talk with great contempt of a coal-pit, you may travel
many a mile in this world of light and sunshine, without
seeing anything half so wonderful as the coal mines at
Dysart.  But this I should have left you to guess, after
my description; for I fear, after having said so, I shall
fail to make you think as I say. Well, to fall upon the
subject, without further preface.  Having made an engagement, the day before, with my good friend, Mr. Barclay, who conducts the work, and who promised to equip
nie for the expedition, I repaired to his house early after




MEMI OIR OF JOHN  URQUHART.              233
break-fast.  I found only one dress had been procured,
which they insisted on giving to me. I wish you had seen
us as we set out.  You can fancy my slender body, wrapt
in a sailor's jacket and trowsers, which had been made for
a stout man, and crowned with an immense old hat, which
had an irresistible tendency to rest upon my shoulders.
After half an hour's walk in this fantastic attire, during
which time I afforded some merriment to the natives, and
felt now and then a little hesitation on the subject of personal identity, we reached the place of descent.  It is a
perpendicular shaft, with a wooden partition in the middle,
reaching to the bottom.  On one side of this partition are
placed short wooden ladders, in a zig-zag direction, from
top to bottom of the pit.  Having each lighted his candle,
we addressed ourselves to the work of descending, and
were right glad, after some fatigue, and no little wariness,
lo find that we had reached the bottom.  At this spot, we
were about half a mile from the shaft where the coals are
taken up.  Mr. Barclay led the way, with a lantern, and
ufter we had followed for some time, we began to perceive
that we had entered a spacious gallery, the roof about
twelve feet high.  By the glimmer of our candles on the
right hand, the wall seemed to be solid, but on the left,
now and then appeared a spacious gloomy cavern, which
seemed to turn at right angles to the route we were pursuing, but how far we could not tell; all beyond a few
yards, was covered with an impenetrable darkness.  To
let you know more than I did, when surveying these
gloomy regions, we were walking in what miners call the
level, which is excavated in a horizontal direction, (as its
name imports) in a line at right angles to the direction
which the stratum dips. In this way, a level channel is
20*




234       iEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIHART.
obtained for the water tlhat accumulates, without passing
from the vein of coal, which you will easily perceive, could
not be accomplished by running a mine in any other direction.  In that case, if you follow  the coal, you must
descend with the stratum; if you keep a level, you leave
the coal.  The caverns on our left hand, were the workings, which are always wrought upwards; hence we had
none on our right hand.  On this side a river flowed,
which was supplied by tributary streams, that issued from
the caverns I have attempted to describe, or sometimes by
a water-fall, where tile roof had given way.  Hitherto the
murmur of the stream had alone broken the dreary stillness
of these caverns, and the feeble rays of our candles had
only made visible the darkness they could not dissipate;.
but now other sounds and sights began to burst upon us;
a fire was seen blazing in the distance, and a number of
motley faces, which still preserved some colours that could
reflect the light, (reflected by nothing else,) danced and
gleamed before us like the figures in a magic-lantern. The
clanking of chains, and the trampling of horses, were now
distinctly heard; and a hollow sound, as of distant thunder,
grumbled through the subterranean vaults, as the loaded
baskets (I might almost call them wagons) were dragged
along.  We had now, in fact, arrived at the pit, where the
coals are raised by a steam engine; and by that time, I
was as much tired with my walk, as I now am in describing it.  We had not yet travelled over half the ground;
but as the rest of our journey was more expeditious, I
hope to make the description more brief. A train of
empty baskets were ready to move, in which we made
very comfortable seats of straw. Our horse was harnessed,
our lights adjusted, and in a few minutes we started at




MEMOIR OF JOHN UR QUHART.               235
full trot to explore the yet unseen recesses of this endless
labyrinth.  What we saw here, was just what we had seen
before, till we arrived, after travelling another mile, at the
place where the men were at work.  Here the air was
very close, from the smoke of their lamps, and we were
glad to make our way back on loaded baskets, though
contrary to the laws of those realms. We took no candles
in returning, as a lamp is attached to each train of
baskets. By accident this only remaining light went out
about the middle of our journey, and we were left in darkness, of which those above ground can form no conception.
Our horse continued to canter along, as if nothing had
happened, at a rate that made it a little difficult for me to
keep my seat. In some time, a twinkling lamp again
appeared in the distance, on passing which, things went
on as before. The baskets we travelled in, are set on
wheels, which move on a railway. The horses are in excellent condition, and have very good stables in the mine.
They never see the light of day, from the time they are
first lowered down.  Of our return, I need not describe
further.
"  When you have read the above confused description,
read the twenty-eighth chapter of Job, and tell me if it
does not throw some light on the sublime description there.
If not, I have failed to represent to you what I have seen.
Man can, indeed, do much; but, after all, his power is
limited. He can put forth his hand upon the rocks, and
overturn the mountains by the roots.  He can cut out
rivers among the rocks; he can bind the flood from overflowing.  His eye seeth every precious thing, and the
thing that is hid, he bringeth forth to light. But where
shall wisdom be found?  God alone knoweth the way




236      M{EMOIR OF JOHN URQUJHART.
thereof; and 0, let us thank him with our whole hearts,
that what human skill could never have discovered, he
has freely made known to us by the gospel.  Man can'bore the solid earth;' but the depth, saith of this wisdom,'It is not in me.' Man can fathom the ocean and explore
its hidden caverns; but the sea saith,' It is not with me.' In
what a pitiable condition is man, with all his boasted wisdom, without divine revelation. O how thankful then should
we be, that this precious gift, the gift of heavenly wisdom,
is freely offered to all! It is easily accessible to every
individual. No careful and laborious search is to be made,
ere we can discover it; no difficult task to be performed,
ere we can deserve it.' Say not then in thine heart,' &c.
(Read the passage, Rom. x. 8; and the parallel verses,
Deut. xxx. 11 - 15.)
"' Let us embrace with eagerness anid joy, the precious
truths that God has revealed to us.  Pardon and reconciliation, and spiritual renovation, are the gifts that are
offered.  They are not to be compared in value to any
earthly thing. They have been purchased by the blood
of Christ, and are offered to us for nothing. 0 let us not
then despise or neglect these invaluable gifts, which the
possession of a thousand worlds could not enable us to
purchase!"
"DYSART TIOUSE, October 13, 1826.
"6MY DEAR TRAIL - Perhaps I should have written
sooner, but I trust you will not attribute this delay to
want of affection.  I have really nothing particular to
communicate, except my very sincere thanks for your truly
kind and refreshing letter. I trust this will find you a
preacher of the gospel, and I am sure, if once all external




MEBMOII  OF JOtHN  URT QUHART.          237
barriers are removed; the state of those around you, will
constrain you to be instant in season, and out of season. You
mention having heard from our dear friend Adam; and I
suppose, he addressed you on the subject which has taken
possession of his whole soul.  Have you been thinking
more of the missionary work? I feel the argument for
personal engagement every day more strong; and if there
are times when I have a longing persuasion that it may
be my duty to remain at home, they are times when the
chilling influence of the world has cooled every holy affection. This convinces me, more than anything, that the
matter is of God. Did I tell you, that our friend, Rentoul, has been so impressed with the duty of preaching to
the heathen, as to have almost (I trust, by this time, altogether) decided on offering his services to the London
Missionary Society? Henry Craik has written me, since
his arrival at Exeter, which place he seems to like very
much. John Brown and he are making some exertion for
the spiritual good of the people.
"6 I had a letter from Mr. Adam yesterday, who seems
to think of Madras as the place of his destination. I suppose he had begun to study Sanscrit when he wrote to
you. He goes on with it. I could have wished much to
accompany John Adam, but many circumstances seem to
demand a considerable delay on my part. May the Lord
make me submissive.  I know his ways are the best.
Generally on looking back, we can see that every step we
took was necessary for our welfare, although when we
took these steps, all was darkness and perplexity;'The
Lord leadeth the blind by a way that they know not.' It
is a privilege even to be blind, if we have such a Leader.
Since we came here, the Earl of Rosslyn's family have




238      MEMOIR OF JOHIIN URQUHtART.
been all at home, and there has been a good deal of company.  Lord Loughborough, Lord Rosslyn's son, was married last Tuesday.
" I feel that the near approach of rank and fashion has
a strong, though almost imperceptible influence, in superinducing a spirit of worldliness. Every new scene that
opens to me convinces me that the world in which we live
is more dangerous than ever I imagined, and every new
temptation shows me that my strength is utter weakness.
How difficult to learn the lesson of our own utter worthlessness! Experience alone can teach it. 0 that we may
be enabled to look more simply to Christ alone! In him
we are complete. Through Christ strengthening us we
can do all things. I thank you for your kind present,
and for your still kinder advices.  Pray for me, that the
Lord would uphold me; for I feel that I walk on slippery
places. Nesbit will be in Edinburgh soon.  W. S. Moncrieff, and W. Alexander, my old companions, are the only
persons I know going to St. Andrew's.
"I hope they will be strenuous in their exertions. We
return soon to the neighbourhood of Glasgow, where I expect to spend the winter."
"DYSART HOUSE, October 16, 1826.
"MY VERY DEAR FRIEND - I have just been conning
over your very interesting letter, by way of foraging for
my own pen, for I fear this will be a very barren and uninteresting letter. Every line of your epistle is filled with
what is interesting, so that I scarcely know what to allude
to first. The first thing that strikes me is, that the date
of this letter is exactly a month later thah yours, which
was the time fixed for our dear Nesbit's leaving you. I




MEMOIR OF JOHN UJRQUHART.               239
trust he has left you, else I shall be denied the pleasure
of an interview with him, as I pass through Edinburgh
for Tennoch Side, the end of this week. But, by the way,
when your letter was written you did not know I had left
that part of the country.  It is now about five weeks,
since Colonel Morland's family came to Dysart, and on
leaving our former residence, I was permitted to pay a
visit to Perth, which was doubly sweet to me, from having
been removed for a time from  all who were like-minded.
One thing I was much disappointed in, my parents showed
a more determined opposition than ever to my going to
the heathen. I had hoped that, by this time, they would
have been quite reconciled, and I had formed my plans
accordingly. I have now no plan. I am waiting till the
Lord, by his providence, point out the way to me. Even
my dear John Adam recommends delay in my circumstances. I fear he must leave me behind him, for I suppose, to be qualified to go with him even as an assistant,
I should require to be in London immediately.  But it is
well th8at we should have our plans frustrated.  God has
marked out the way for us already, and it is very presumptuous in us to try to mark it out for ourselves. I
feel that the present is very apt to be overlooked, in laying schemes for the future, and the opportunities of usefulness that daily present themselves, are apt to be
neglected in the imagination of still more favourable
opportunities that are to come. This is evidently a device
of Satan's.  How many precepts have we in Scripture to
guard us against delusion!
"Since I have been here, I have seen a good deal of
what is called the world. Lord Rosslyn's family has been
at home, and there has been a good deal of company.




240     MEMOIR OF JOIIN URQUI-IART.
There is a fascination about rank, and fashion, and gaiety,
and splendor, which has an almost imperceptible influence
even on the heart that is conscious of their utter vanity.
The smile of the world is more dangerous than its frown;
and the kindness and attention of those who are called
great, have a strong tendency to lead away from the simplicity that is in Christ.  This I have, in some degree,
experienced.
"I do not know whether I ever wrote anything about
my pupil. He is a boy of a very affectionate and amiable
disposition: and if I am not mistaken, he has an intellect
of no ordinary cast. But he has been quite spoiled, he
has never been accustomed to obey anybody, and has
never been punished for a fault.  Of course, you can see,
in such a case, I have a good deal to try me, but yet I
have encouragement too. He has been several times a
good deal impressed with the doctrines of the gospel, and
though these impressions may wear off again, at present
they give encouragement to hope and pray, that the heart
which has been influenced by them, may be, sooner or
later, entirely subjugated to the Lord.  I rejoice to hear
of your exertion in your neighbourhood. Persevere, my
dear friend. I mean to renew my efforts to have a meeting near Tennoch Side.  Give my affectionate regards to
John Brown. I am glad to know, that, practically, he
has given up his peculiar tenets.  I am not in a condition
for writing on Mr.. Grove's pamphlet at present, as it is
some time since I read it, and I have not a copy here with
me. I feel in a very peculiar manner towards Mr. Grove,
though I have never seen him. I would travel a good
way to meet with him. Give him my respectful and affectionate compliments. I will not send any expression of




MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUHIART.              241
affectionate regard for my dear Nesbit, for I indulge a
hope of seeing him in Edinburgh. I like the general outline of the Hamiltonian System  very much.  I have
adopted it so far in Hebrew, as to take all the assistance
I can from  our English translation, at the same time
examining the grammatical structure of each word. Pray
for me, my dear brother. I have need of your prayers,
for I am in a very cold and lifeless state. Ever, my
dearest Henry, yours most affectionately."
"TENNOCH SIDE, November 16, 1826.
"MY DEAREST FRIEND -For some time back, I have
every day been thinking of answering your very kind
letter. I bad actually sat down some days ago, but finding I had nothing of importance to communicate, I felt
unwilling to break, without a cause, upon your very valuable time. But I cannot resist the pleasure of conversing
with you for a little, for it is now some time since I have
talked with a Christian friend.
"' You know I have been a wanderer since I wrote to
you, and perhaps it may amuse you to give some account
of myself!:But I have such a memory. I had forgot that
I had written to you from Dysart. In passing through
Edinburgh I saw Scott and Tait, and Alexander, of whom,
the last alone has returned to St. Andrew's.  I have
heard that Rentoul intended going, but not from himself.
Alas, poor St. Andrew's!  I am anxiously expecting a
letter from  Alexander.  Craik left Edinburgh without
giving any account of the Missionary Society's book, which
he had as secretary; and I had great difficulty in compelling Alexander to write about it. By the way, I have
heard Duff is returned.  I trust he will be staunch and
21




242     MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIHAIRT.
zealous. I mean to write to him soon. Since I am in the
way of giving news, I may mention, that I hlad a letter the
other day from our old friend Hoby, accusing both yourself and me of not writing.  He has' pitched his tent,' as
he expresses it, at Weymouth, being disappointed in his
attempt to find a settlement near the Metropolis.  His
letter breathes a strong missionary spirit.'It is impossible,' he says,'to think of going now; but would to God I
could find a more extended sphere of usefulness among
the heathen, than I am likely to find here.' This, in part,
I do not quite understand, for it would appear, that there
is abundance of work at home, for those who cannot go to
heathen countries.
" I am back to my hermitage, and have been here for
three weeks. All around is more dreary now than ever;
and, in other respects, external circumstances are no
better than they were, and yet I know nothing of that
strange dejection which pressed so heavy on me before.
I wish you would destroy anything I wrote to you then;
as, if I wrote as I felt, I must have appeared to you little
other than a fool or a madman. I cannot help thinking,
on looking back, that I was afflicted with a lighter species
of the most dreadful malady that can visit a rational being.
I do in earnest thank the Lord that I now enjoy not only
health of body, but that littled valued, but highly precious
blessing, soundness of mind. I cannot say that the advice
of your last letter did not damp me a little. But you are
right, I must wait till the Lord direct me. If you must
go without me, I think I can bear it. All my experience
tells me that I want a tried friend to lean upon, (a
sentiment by the way, which you strangely misinterpreted
in a letter to Scott;) and such I hoped you might be to




MEMOIR  OF JOHN URQUHART.                  243
me. But I see my error, I must lean upon Christ. I am
more convinced than ever that happiness depends little on
what is without.  0, for a closer walk with God! for this
alone, in any circumstances, can give true enjoyment. I
have seen a good deal of the gaiety of the world since I
saw you. It is all vanity. I have learned that lords and
ladies are just men and women. It is probable that we
return to Lord Rosslyn's at Christmas, to remain some
time, so you see I am quite a pilgrim.'We have no abiding city here.' That reminds me of a delightful month
at Homerton, and of many a change since."
" TENNOCH SIDE, November, 1826.
"MY DEAR FRIEND -I trust you continue to enjoy, in
some degree, the measure of health and freedom from
pain, which you did when I last had the pleasure of seeing you.  But the uncomfortable weather we have had for
some time, almost forbids me to think so.  Whichever
way it is, I know that you refer it to the Lord, who doth
all things well. It is in kindness that lie afflicts, and it
is in kindness too, that he sometimes gives a short respite
from suffering.  Perhaps it is in such seasons that the
benefit of affliction is most felt.  In the midst of severe
distress, the most serene mind must be agitated; and it is
difficult to feel that the Lord afflicts, because he loves us.
In such circumstances David was beginning to fear that
the Lord had forsaken him; it was only by escaping from
himself, as it were, that he could find comfort.' This is
my infirmity,' said he,'I will remember the years of the
right hand of the Most High;' or, as some translate it,'the change of the vight hand of the Most High,' that is,
his varied dispensations, in dealing with his people.  But




244      MEMOIR  OF JOHIN  URQUHIART.
when severer suffering is for a while removed, there is
often a holy calmness that pervades the soul, and the remaining affliction, instead of ruffling the mind as before,
has a soothing influence; and, like the exercise of fasting,
melts the whole soul into willing submission to the divine
will. It is with bodily affliction, in some respects, as it is
with the diseases of the mind"When the wounds of woe are healing,
When the heart is all resigned, -'Tis the solemn feast of feeling,'Tis the Sabbath of the mind.'
" This sacred repose I am sure you have often felt, and
have thought the trouble well worth the bearing, which
yielded such peaceable fruits.  Such seasons are the
earnests of that rest which remaineth for the people of God.
It is an acquiescence in the divine will that causes this
holy calm within the breast. HIow sweet and sacred must
that rest be, which remaineth: for us! Then all the dispensations of God will have wrought together in producing perfect res'ination to the will of our HIeavenly Father.
Surely this must be perfect peace. Let us welcome, then,
all that fits us for such a state of holy enjoyment. All
things work together for our good. You will excuse me
for writing on a subject of which I may be supposed to
know little. True, I have had little bodily affliction; but
I have not lived eigohteen years in such a world, without
tasting the bitterness of sorrow. You know some trials
that have pressed heavily upon me. You have been long
severely afflicted, and if anything I can write can suggest
any consolation, I shall esteem it a high honour to have
been permitted to minister to one of the saints."




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHAART.              245
"TENNOCH SIDE, November 30, 1826.
"MY DEAR TRAIL- The important subject of your
letter has been much in my thoughts, and often in my
prayers since I received it. I have felt a reluctance to
write, from a feeling of the deep responsibility of influencing
you in so momentous a matter, and from a consciousness
of utter unfitness for the task you impose on me. On
many accounts I am not the person to advise you. The
book of Providence is often difficult to interpret, and I
will not pretend to offer an opinion on the particular
passage of it, you have laid before me in your own history.
We do well to remember, however, that the devil can
quote from this declaration of the divine will, as well as
from his written word, to give effect and plausibility to his
temptations. Perhaps we can never be sure that we interpret the divine Providence aright, in deciding a doubtful
question of duty, except when the mind has been duly exercised by prayer, in regard to the subject connected with
the particular event, or chain of events under consideration. If the mind thus prepared has a particular bent,
which is favoured or not opposed by external circumstances,
I think in such a case we have rational grounds for supposing that prayer has been answered, and the desired
direction has been given. Since supernatural communications have ceased, I see not how prayer can be otherwise
answered.  And there is no scope for the working of
enthusiasm in obeying this inward impulse, when we limit
it by the declarations of Scripture, and confine it to those
points of conduct which as you observe, are left undetermined by the sacred word.  This is the course you have
pursued, I doubt not. It is the course I have tried to
pursue.  The Lord will direct us, my dear Trail.  He
21 *




240      X MEMOIR  OF JOHN UJRqUHART.
who has made the path plain hitherto, will direct us still.
I am tired of laying plans, they have been so often frustrated. After all, I see that I have been ever too anxious
about the future, and all such anxiety is useless, for the
Lord will lead the blind by a way that they know not.
"My views with regard to missions are still much the
same.  The gospel is for mankind, for the world; and
why should one little island contain nearly all the messengers of peace?  The little success in some parts is no discouragement, nor does it even show that men had run
where they were not sent.  Remnember the first attempts
in Otaheite. Consider the continent of Asia. John Adam
remains in London, preparing, I suppose, for India. I
say nothing of Rentoul, as I hope you have met him at
St. Andrew's; if so, remember me very affectionately to
him, also to Duff, and W. Alexander.  Craik and Brown
remain in Exeter.  I have not yet heard of Nesbit's
arrival in Scotland. I am anxious to hear how matters go
on in St. Andrew's this winter."
He wrote, in the month of November, a paper on
"'Fiction as a Medium of Religious Instruction," which
was inserted in the Christian Herald, a periodical work,
published in Edinburgh.*
* See Appendix M.




MEMOIR  OF JOHIN  URQUHART.                   247
CHAPTER VI.
The commencement of his last illness - Extract from his Journal-.
Letter to Mr. Tate - Letter to Mr. Craik - Letter to his father -
Letter from Mr. Ewing to his father -Letter from Mrs. Ewing
to the same - Letter from Mrs. Ewing, giving an account of his
illness and death - Letter from Miss Cathcart on the same subject
-His death —Letter from Dr. Chalmers to his father- Lines
addressed to John by a friend-Concluding observations on his
character and death.
THE time now drew nigh, when my beloved friend was
to be removed from this delusive and suffering world, to
the'unsuffering kingdom' of his adorable Lord. For that
state of ineffable bliss, he had been for a considerable time
preparing, under the discipline of Providence, and the
sanctifying grace of the Redeemer.  In knowledge, he
had far outstripped his equals of his own age; in zeal and
devotedness, he occupied the front rank of a chosen band
of youthful associates; and in the feelings and exercises
of humility, he lay lower than the lowest. The measure
of his spiritual stature was now completed, and the full
reward of glory was made ready for him, by Him whom
he loved. I feel myself incapable of describing the closing scenes, and shall therefore leave them, in a great
measure to be told by others.
From a child, he gave evidence of possessing a constitution of peculiar delicacy, which was, therefore, liable
to be affected, both mentally and physically, by many
causes, which do not operate powerfully on persons of a




248       MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.
robust and hardy temperament.  The symptoms of a morbid depression, which appeared during the summer of 1826,
were only, I apprehend, the harbingers of the fatal attack,
by which he was appointed to be removed from this world.
I fear it was not discovered in time, that the brain was the
origin of his complaints; the intense and unceasing action
of the mind, proving too powerful for his delicate bodily
frame. In the mysterious arrangements of Providence, it
would seem, that whatever arrives very early at perfection,
is destined to be soon cut off. Premature growth is generally followed by a premature end. The case of Urquhart
is very similar to those of Durant and Kirke White; and
the inimitably beautiful lines which Lord Byron applies
to the latter, are, I conceive, equally applicable to my
young friend. It is singular, that the passage to which I
refer, was transcribed by him into a scrap-book, entitled,
" Extracts in Poetry, from various authors," only a short
time before his death.
"Oh! what a noble heart was here undone,
When Science' self destroyed her favourite son!
Yes! she too much indulged thy fond pursuit,
She sowed the seeds, bhut death has reaped the fruit.'Twas thine own genius gave the fatal blow,
And helped to plant the wound that laid thee low.
So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain,
No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart,
And winged the shaft which quivered in his heart.
Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel,
He nursed the pinion, which impelled the steel:
While the same plumage that had warmed his nest,
Drank the last life drop of his bleeding breast.




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUIART,              249
The last entry in his journal describes the commencement of the attack, which terminated his earthly career,
and gives a most delightful view of the state of his mind.
" The ruling passion," his devoted attachment to the missionary cause, appears strong even in death.  To be withdrawn from this work was the only thing which excited
his regret, or extorted the expression of painful feeling;
yet, even in regard to that, his mind appeared perfectly
subdued.
"December, 1826.
"Wednesday 13th. - An excessive languor and weakness has prevented me from studying regularly this week.
Had a long conversation with the gardener, last night,
whom I find to be a very shrewd man. He is quite a
Scotchman. The contrast, in point of intellect, and acquired knowledge, between him and the English servants
in the family, is very striking. Yet they have travelled a
good deal, and have nearly one-third of the day at their
own disposal. His knowledge has been picked up in his
own cottage, and those around it. He argues well on the
doctrines of Christianity; but, I fear, as is the case, alas!
with many of our countrymen, the head is engaged more
than the heart.
" 14th. Rose to-day at a quarter to eight. Read half
a chapter of the Greek Testament.  Second chapter of
Joshua in Hebrew. Dr. Cokely called to-day, and pronounces my illness an affection of the liver. This has distressed me a good deal, as it may unfit me for the East,
which I have long contemplated as the scene of my labours.
But the Lord knows what is best. If he hedge up the
way, I may not walk in it. I would not, if I might.




250      MEMOIR  OF JOHN UIRQUIHART.
I begin a course of medicine on Friday, which, I pray God
may bless, for the restoration of my health; that my body
may be fitted for his service.  If this be not his will, I
know, that the destruction of this body will perfect the
soul, and fit it for a higher, and a holier service, in the
heavenly temple.
"'0O most delightful hour by man
Experienced here below;
That hour which terminates his span,
His sorrow and his woe.'
" 14th. Not so weak this morning, but able to accomplish little in the way of study. Prepared and attended
my meeting.  This is always a refreshment.  I was enabled to speak with earnestness and feeling on the mercy
and the justice of our God.  My breathing a good deal
affected to-night in walking. Though the night is wet, I
feel better since I have been out."
How delightful it is to find, that to the very last, he
laboured in his Master's service, and seemed to derive
fresh strength from doing the will of God.
To his friend Tate, he wrote the following interesting
letter, on the 19th of December:"T TENNOCH SIDE, December 19, 1826.
" MY DEAR BROTHER - This world, through which we
are passing, is a desert, and no wonder that its dreariness
should depress our spirits.  Our souls too are suffering
under a loathsome disease; and if we are sensible of its
loathsomeness, no wonder that we sometimes abhor our
ownselves. But the desert through which we travel, leads




MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART.   251
to our home, and we have an all powerful remedy for the
disease that preys upon our souls. True, sin will struggle on, and the old man will fight for the mastery, as long
as he may, but we shall soon leave the wilderness, and all
its sufferings, behind us.  Strange that we should ever
wish to linger.  You remember that beautiful hymn;-''There is a land of pure delight,
Where saints immortal reign;
Infinite day excludes the night,
And pleasures banish pain.
There everlasting spring abides,
And never-withering flowers:
Death, like a narrow sea, divides,
This heavenly land from ours.
Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood
Stand dressed in living green:
So to the Jews old Canaan stood,
While Jordan rolled between.
But timorous mortals start and shrink
To cross this narrow sea,
And linger, shivering on the brink,
And fear to launch away.
Could we but climb where Moses stood;
And view the landscape o'er;
Not Jordan's stream, - nor death's cold flood,
Should fright us from the shore.'
"I had a letter from our dear Craik, a few days before
I received your last. He talks of being a missionary.
Brown and he think of Ireland. I should think them well
fitted for debate, especially Henry. I fear some one must
be found to supply my place among the number of in



252      MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUHART.
tending missionaries. You know that I have not been bent
from what I thought the course of duty, by the arguments
of men; but now God has spoken in a way which I
think, (but I am not sure,) is decisive. I have been sickly
for some weeks, and it turns out to be inflammation of the
liver. I have been taking the usual course of mercurial
pills for some days, and the Doctor orders the side to be
blistered to-morrow. I wished to write before I am quite
laid up, chiefly to request you to tell me all about St.
Andrew's when you return. I hoped to have visited it
soon, but the Lord has determined otherwise. Pray for
me, that whether death or life be in this cup, the Lord
may enable me to drink it with cheerfulness. Remember
that I am literally in a land of strangers.  Not a single
Christian friend to whisper consolation, none to whom I
can pour forth the feelings of my soul. Remember me
very affectionately to my dear Rentoul, in whom I feel a
very peculiar interest. My old companion, William Adam,
I expected to have heard from.  I have others, in my
mind, but I am wearied.  My chief pain is in my right
arm and side. Do not speak of my illness at St. Andrew's,
as the report might reach home, and I have not yet
written."
Whether the means resorted to, were those best suited
to his case, I pretend not to say; but while a partial recovery was effected, the disease would seem still to have
gone on. To his esteemed friend, Craik, at Exeter, he
wrote at different times, the following letter:"TENNOCH SIDE, December, 1826.
I have to thank you, my dear brother, for two affectionate letters, since I wrote last. Your last was a letter of




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.                    253
mourning, and yet it refreshed me much, and comforted
me. It was but a day or two after, that I had a letter
from  our dear friend Tait, breathing the same strain of
lamentation for worldliness, and panting after a closer
walk with God. We are all one family, my brother, and
what wonder that the feelings of our hearts are one, while
banished from our home, and wandering amid dangers,
fighting with powerful enemies, and surrounded by strangers who know us not, or who know us only to hate us.
But let us take courage.'The night is far spent, the
day is at hand.' Weeping may endure for a night; but
joy will come in the morning.  It is not always by light,
and faith, and joy, that the Lord answers prayer for
spirituality of mind.  There is great truth in that hymn
of Newton's, —
"' I asked the Lord that I might grow
In faith, and love, and every grace;
Might more of his salvation know,
And seek more earnestly his face.
I hoped that in some favoured hour,
At once he'd answer my request;
And by his love's constraining power,
Subdue my sins and give me rest.
Instead of this, he made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart;
And let the angry powers of hell
Assault my soul in every part.
Lord, why is this? I trembling cried;
Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death?
"'Tis in this way,' the Lord replied,
I answer prayer for grace and faith.
22




254      MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUHART.
These inward trials I employ,
From self and pride to set thee free;
And break thy schemes of earthly joy,
That thou may'st seek thy all in me.'
"Why does God leave us so long in a world of sin?
Why were his ancient people forty years in travelling
through the wilderness? Why are we exposed to so many
temptations? It is because he will not only deliver us,
but will show us the horror of that state, from which we
have been delivered. And the more we know of our own
vileness, shall not our praise be the louder, when we join
in that glorious anthem,' Unto him that loved us?'
"I have been a mourner too. New circumstances have
presented new temptations, and the Lord has shown me
my utter weakness. Once, I thought my heart could not
be viler than I knew it to be; but God has led me, as he
did his prophet of old, from one scene of iniquity to another; and when I have thought that now I have seen all,
he has opened some secret place within my breast, and
showed me'greater abominations still.' Nor am I sure,
that I know yet the depths of iniquity that are within me.
How easy to pass among men as pious and holy! They
compare themselves among themselves.  You talk about
passing the Rubicon, my dear brother. The river of
death is the Rubicon. Not till we have passed it, shall we
be completely freed from the world, and from its cares.
I say this, because I remember feeling, as I think you do.
I thought, did I decidedly give up the hope of worldly
honours and comforts, by deciding on the missionary life,
I should no more be harassed by the cares, or allured by
the vanities of earth.  But it is not so. To think much
of the Saviour is the only way to be made like him. I




MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUHART.               255
like much your plan regarding Ireland. I do think your
talents, and also those of our friend Brown, are quite of a
cast for it. It has been urged much upon me, but you
know well I am not the person for such a scene. You ask
me concerning my plans. I have no plan at present.  If
Colonel Moreland goes to Edinburgh in April, I may probably stay a little longer with him.  Some information I
got to-day, has distressed me a good deal, as it makes me
fear that I shall never be fit for a warm climate. I have
been drooping and sickly for some weeks. To-day, the
doctor has come from Glasgow, and pronounces my illness
an affection of the liver. He thinks there is no inflammation, and that a course of medicine will remove this attack.
I am able to go about, though not very fit for study, and
have merely a slight pain, like rheumatism, in my arm
and side. Rentoul, Alexander, Duff, and Trail, are in
St. Andrew's. From John Adam, I have not heard since
I wrote you. My meeting here is confined to young people, thirteen or fourteen attend.  There is no village.
They come from scattered cottages. Of course, I do not
preach, I talk to them. My meeting with them always
refreshes and invigorates me. We go, perhaps, to Dysart,
at Christmas. I may, perhaps, have an opportunity of
visiting St. Andrew's."
" This is Christmas-day, and it is well for me the family
have not moved. John Adam has written me lately; he
is well, and goes on with his plan of preaching occasionally.
" The other part of this letter was written a considerable time ago; but I thought it better, since I had mentioned my illness, not to send it off, till I should see what




256     MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.
the issue might be. Decided symptoms of inflammation
soon appeared; but I am glad to say, that the Lord has
blessed the means employed to remove the disease. At
least, we think so at present. You must excuse me for
not writing more, as I am excessively weak. I have ate
very little, and have been allowed to eat nothing nourishing for some time. Add to this, that I have had a good
deal of medicine, and a blister on my side, and you will
not wonder that I am much reduced. I can add no more
at present, but that I am ever your friend and brother in
the strongest bonds."
The last letter he wrote was to his father, though the
painful event that so soon followed, was then little anticipated.
"TENNOCII SIDE, December 27, 1826.
"tMY DEAR FATHER -Christmas is past, and I am
afraid you will be expecting me. This is the reason, I
suppose, that my many letters have produced no answers.
The family do not go to Dysart; and, in my present circumstances, that has been a great, blessing to me. I may
venture to tell you, now that I am better, that I have had
rather a serious illness, inflammation of the liver. I had
been very weak for some time, loathing food, and oppressed with a pain in my arm and side, which I called
rheumatism. Mrs. Moreland had the kindness to send for
the doctor of the regiment, who prescribed great abstinence; the blue pill to be taken every night; and, lastly,
a large blister for the right side. It has pleased God to
bless these means for the removal of the disease.  Of
course, I am very much reduced. I have been treated




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART,               257
with as much kindness as if I had been at home, by the
house-keeper especially, who always dressed my blister,
and watched me like a mother. I could not have looked
for such kindness in a land of strangers. The Lord can
raise up friends wherever we are; but I have had no Christian to whom I could open my heart. But the Lord is
here. With love to all, I am ever your affectionate son."
This letter was written when he must have been very
ill, as he found it necessary to leave Colonel Moreland's
on the second or third of January, with a view to return
home. He got as far as Glasgow; a~nd, under the hospitable roof of Mr. Ewing, received that kind welcome,
which had invariably been shown him, from the first period
of his acquaintance with that excellent family. The following letters, addressed by Mr. and Mrs. Ewing, to his
father, are important, as they show the progress of the
complaint, the means which were employed to arrest it,
and the deep interest which they took in the amiable
sufferer.
"GILASGOW, January 5, 1827.
"MY DEAR SinR - I am sorry to inform you, that your
son came to us two days ago, rather in a poor state
of health. I suppose he must have informed you, some
weeks ago, of his having pain in his side, for which the
regimental surgeon, (who seems a very respectable man,)
ordered a course of mercury; that is now finished, but
seems to have reduced our young friend to a state of
great weakness.  Nevertheless the doctor says he sees
no cause for alarm, as there is little or no fever in his
pulse; but there is no getting him to follow advice in
22 *




258     MEMO 0IR OF JOHITN URQUHART
taking his food. This the doctor thinks will prevent him
from recovering strength till he can go home, which he
thinks he may do, if he gets into the coach, and takes a
little warm brandy and water once or twice on the road.
At Tennoch Side, he became hypochondriac, and would eat
nothing till it was out of season. We hoped he would
have cheered up a little here, from  conversation and
nourishment; but I am sorry to say we are disappointed.
I think it my duty, therefore, to beg, that if possible,
either you or his mother will come here in the beginning
of the week, to endeavour to prevail with him to take
nourishment, and to consult with his medical attendant
what is best to be done.  The doctor declares he sees
nothing but the flatulency of an empty stomach that
should prevent him from eating. After all, I shall not be
surprised if he propose going to-morrow by the coach, for
he did so last night, but not till the places had been all
taken. Yet, if he persist in neglecting his food, he cannot get better. I grieve to write thus, but we are quite
at a loss, for we cannot urge him; and he does not appear
to be at present a good judge in his own case. I am writing without his knowledge, for when I proposed it before,
he refused to let me."
"GLA SGOW, January 5, 1827.
"MY DEAR SIR- Since writing to you in the forenoon,
Mr. Ewing (who has been obliged to go to the churchmeeting) thinks I should write to go by the seven o'clock
coach, by which you might expect your son, to say he has
never spoken of it again this day at all; and that though
his pulse is down, we do not think him better, and feel at
a loss how to manage him. The doctor says he should




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.              259
not lie in bed, but we cannot persuade him to make any
exertion.  The doctor says he must eat, and it is almost
by compulsion, and never but when one of us in a manner
insists and holds it to him, that he takes anything.  We
hope, therefore, you will come, as the doctor assures us
he is quite able for the journey.  We should feel it quite
distressing to let him go alone, and shall feel very anxious
till you come.  At the same time let me assure you,
we have not concealed any circumstance from you. The
doctor says his pulse is seventy-two only.  He appears
to me, as I have seen people, highly hysterical. We are
sorry to give you all this anxiety, knowing what must be
felt for such a son; but we feel it a matter of duty, and
doing as we would be done by. Lieutenant-Colonel Moreland called to-day with the doctor; all that family seem
to have paid him uncommon attention."
His father, it may be supposed, lost no time in proceeding to Glasgow; but before he could reach it, the most
melancholy progress had been made by the fatal disease.
Other medical aid had been called in, and that which had
been supposed to be an affection of the liver, was discovered to be an affection of the brain, on which an effusion
had taken place, which accounts for the comatose state into
which he had been sinking for some days, till at last it
had deprived him of all consciousness, and left no hope of
a recovery.
My esteemed friend, Mrs. Ewing, who watched his
dying bed with a mother's anxiety, has furnished me with
a full and interesting account of his last days, which, together with the additional information supplied by her
valued relative Miss Cathcart, who also acted the part of




2C0     MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHAIIRT.
a tender nurse, the reader I am sure, will be pleased to
receive in their own words, although their letters contain
a slight repetition in some particulars.
"GLASGOW, April, 7, 1827.
"After Colonel Moreland's family returned at the end
of October, I think from Lord Rosslyn's, young Urquhart
was only one Sabbath with us, and then said he had been
a good deal troubled with his stomach. When Dr. Marshman was here, I wrote to ask him to meet him at dinner.
JHe wrote, I might guess his disappointment at not being
able to come seven miles to see him, when he had gone
to London to see Dr. Morrison.  The surgeon of the
cavalry told me he had had a threatening of inflammation
of the liver, for which he had given him Dover's powders,
and blue pill, but this Mr. Urquhart had mistaken for a
course of mercury.  He came in here on the Wednesday
preceding the one on which he died, and seemed very
weak and much worn out with the drive; but told me he
was now quite free of pain or complaint, except weakness
and sickness when he took food. Ile said he had been so
very ill, that though he never was insensible, he had felt
what he never had before, that he could not pronounce
the words he wished to say. IHe appeared to me highly
nervous, and till his illness took a more serious turn, I
had the idea which the medical attendant confirmed, that
it was a hysterical case, from weakness. Both the surgeon and himself thought he was able for the journey to
Perth, but he was persuaded to stop till the Friday, and
take one day's rest. No ticket was to be had providentially for Friday: for we should have attributed his illness
and death to the journey, had he gone. But it is very




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  ITRQUHART.             261
probable, though the ticket had been got he could not
have been conveyed to the coach, as we could never get
him to set up after the Thursday night; though he told
the doctor he was better, and that he had had five hours'
sleep. His pulse also was better that day. That night,
however, we thought him worse, and got a careful sick
nurse, in whom we could confide, to be in his room all
night. It was two next day when the surgeon called,
and when I told him that he ate and drank what we gave
him, but stared at us and did not speak, he left me abruptly, and ran up to his room. I followed instantly,
being alarmed, and on examining his eyes and trying him
in every way to make him speak, he requested more assistance, and told us what the other medical man confirmed,
that it was a very bad case of suffusion on the brain.
His head was shaved, leeches applied, and then a large
blister over his head, and one on his neck. He continued
quite insensible that night and next morning, and the
medical gentleman then thought it was hastening to a
close. His father arrived at eleven, but John did not
know him when first he came.  When Mr. Ewing came in
from the forenoon service, it struck me there was more
intelligence in Mr. Urquhart's face, and I begged of him
to come up and speak to him, and pray; which, to gratify
me he did, for he had no hope himself, thinking I fancied
I saw what I so eagerly wished. Mr. Ewing spoke a few
sentences on the hope of the gospel, as suited to one in
the near prospect of death, and the glory, honour, and
immortality, that were treasured up in heaven for those
whose trust was in the Lord Jesus Christ; and then
prayed for him as seemingly near death. You may believe I watched narrowly the effect of this, and observed




262     MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART.
him exceedingly agitated and affected. When Mr. Ewing
finished, his hands, which he had not moved for many
hours, I saw him endeavouring to disengage from the bed
clothes, and therefore I raised the clothes; when he
stretched out his hand and pressed Mr. Ewing's, and
smiled.  Mr. Ewing said,' Do you know me?' When he
said,'Do not I know Mr. Ewing?' I went for his father,
and he knew him and named him.  After this he lay
above an hour quite motionless, but apparently to me in
meditation and prayer. At the end of that period, he
observed and named me, and said,' My mind is quite calm
now.' I said, I trust your hope is fixed on the Rock of
Ages. He three times replied in a most impressive way,' Yes; my hope is fixed on the Rock of Ages.' I went on
speaking for a little in the same way, saying, You will find
it'a sure foundation;' that Christ is able to save to the,uttermost; that he is a very present help in trouble; that
the hope set before us in his blessed gospel, is a glorious
hope.  His weakness seemed not to permit him to say
much, but he repeated the emphatic words in each passage,
in a tone of exultation I think I hear yet, and with a
countenance beaming with delight.  Knowing the state
of insensibility from which he seemed newly recovered, I
felt a kind of half fear at his only repeating what I said,
and stopped; when he went on himself with two or three
passages, importing the full triumph of faith. But now I
remember only one; it was,'I know  that nothing shall
separate me from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus
my Lord;' but it is impossible to convey an idea of the
tone and manner.  It made all in the room weep abundantly except myself; I was thankful I could command
my feelings, on his account.  We were not aware till




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.              263
afterwards, that his mind had, during the illness before
Christmas, been extremely depressed; and that it was on
expressing that to his young friend, that the beautiful
lines were sent that were something like prophetical of his
state before death.  I send you Jane's letter to Miss
Young, which will supply anything else he said while able
to speak. From that time till within an hour or two of
his death, and long after he ceased to speak or see, whenever he heard Mr. Ewing's voice, he ceased his moaning
or laborious breathing, to listen; or when any of us repeated a passage of Scripture. When the medical men
returned at four on Sabbath, expecting to find him very
near a close of his sufferings, they were very much astonished at the change in his sight, and restored understanding and speech; and though they would not say they could
give us hope, they said symptoms were better, and that
he must not be excited by speaking, but kept very quiet.
This slight hope was kept up all Monday, and we went to
bed that night (leaving two to watch him) with stronger
hope; but at four in the morning his attendants came for
me on his being greatly worse. At four in the afternoon
of Tuesday, he was increasingly worse, and then death
was so evidently near, that both Miss Cathcart and I sat up
till after four, when I was compelled to lie down for twohours, from worn-out strength.  When I returned at six
he was evidently weaker. His last hour was while we
were at breakfast.  Miss Cathcart would not leave the
room, and I just entered it to see the last breath drawn
by the dear young saint.
"You will remember first introducing him to my husband, and I have often thought we owed to the fondness
of that interview excited in both to each other, the honour




264      MEMOIR OF JOHN  URQUHART.
God granted us of having him to minister to in his illness
and death.  He came first to this house when he arrived
in Glasgow, and we secured by that, what any other family
would have done, that he should always come to us; and so
eager were we to have him, that when Mr. and Mrs. Matheson and children were with us, after fixing we should ask
a bed for him from our kind neighbour Mrs. Smith, we
put up a bed for him in the little dressing-room. I send
you the letters of Dr. Chalmers, and Mrs. Moreland, &c.,
and you know the universal testimony to his worth, and
talents, and piety, and engaging manners. If there is
anything further you wish on this subject that I can supply, it will give me satisfaction. I cannot but hope the
Lord will bless the memoir to many souls. Surely such a
bright star has not, in the short space it was seen, reflected all it was lighted up for, of the glory of God."
The following is Miss Cathcart's letter, to which Mrs.
Ewing refers:" We have witnessed a very painful and solemn scene,
in the death of that dear child of God.  Mr. and Mrs.
Ewing felt it an honour to administer to his comfort; and
it was a privilege to myself attending him, which I trust
will benefit my own soul. Much mercy was mixed with
the trying dispensation. It was most providential a ticket
in the Perth coach could not be had; and when Mr. Urquhart seemed to regret it, Mr. Ewing said there was a
Providence in all these things; in which he directly acquiesced. In all his wanderings, not a murmur or complaint
was heard.  When he was collected and prayed aloud, it
was most delightful to hear him pouring out his heart to




MEMOIR OF JOHN URQTTIIART.              265
God in such humble and scriptural language.  I wish the
self-righteous had heard him declare that if he got where
he deserved he would be in hell-fire, and that he had
nothing to plead but the imercy of God, through the righteousness of Christ.  At times, when unable to speak, lie
appeared sensible, by the placid smile on his countenance.
When Mr. Ewing was praying, and when lie mentioned
any of the cheering promises in the gospel to believers,
Urquhart would say,'Yes! yes!' with great emphasis.
At one time when his poor father asked the state of his
mind, he replied,'in perfect peace, stayed on God,' and
repeated a second time,'stayed on God.' One morning
he asked me if his father was up. I asked him if he wished
to see him; he replied,'Yes.' When he came he said,' John, do you know your father?' to which he replied,' I
know my father;' and then Mr. Urquhart said,'I hope
you know your Father in heaven, who, I trust, has prepared a mansion for you.' I think the sweet youth said,'I believe there is.' At another time when nobody was
in his sight, I heard him say,'Comle, Lord Jesus, come
quickly.' When alone in his room, but not that he could
see me, he said,' Who is there?' I went to his bed-side,
and said, Miss Cathcart, thinking he might not know my
voice; he replied,'IWhen did you come here?' I said I
have been with you all the time you have been ill here,
and I feed you with what you eat; he said,'I am happy
to have my friends with me.' I replied, you have a Friend
who sticketh closer than a brother;'Yes,' he added,' Jesus Christ is a friend who sticketh closer than a brother;
but all the Lord's people are interested in each other.'
At times when we did not think he knew us, he showed
us he did by naming us, or holding out his hand, and ex23




266     MIEMOIR OF JOTIN URQUIIARTo
pressed anxiety for Mrs. Ewing fatiguing herself, by different times saying,'Iy beloved Mrs. Ewing, lie down
beside me.' The most heart-rending scene I ever witnessed, was on the Tuesday night before his death.  Mr.
Urquhart came into the room, and at the bed-side gave
up in prayer his son to the Lord, when all the yearning
of the afflicted parent was expressed, and the submission
of the Christian exemplified. Some present thought John
sensible and agitated, but I was so much distressed myself
that I did not observe.  The poor father is much to be
pitied, who says he has lost his child, son, friend, counsellor, and comforter.  AMy friend Mrs. Smith's husband,
told me he had never been at a funeral where such a feeling of regret was shown. The sick-nurse and the servants
paid him the greatest attention, and many tears they shed
for him.  He told us how very kind Colonel and Mrs.
Moreland had been to him; also that the housekeeper had
been quite like a mother to him during his illness."
His death took place on Wednesday, the 10th of January, i827, when he was only eighteen years and six
months old. His career was short, but interesting, useful,
and glorious. However mysterious it may appear to us,
it was doubtless well Fvith him; and Christ, who was gain
to him in life, proved to him gain in death also. His
course was calm, holy, and consistent; its termination was
peaceful and happy,  It was improved by Mr. Ewing, on
the following Lord's day, from Psalm cxvi. 15. "' Precious
in the sight of the Lord, is the death of his saints."  It
produced, among many others, the following letter from
Dr. Chalmers, to his father: —




MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART.                 267
"ST. ANDREW'S, January 15, 1827.
" MY DEAR SIR - I cannot refrain from offering my condolence on the late melancholy bereavement, wherewith it
hath pleased a mysterious Providence to visit you.  I received the intelligence, by a letter from Mr. Ewing, which
I circulated among the numerous friends and acquaintances of your son in this place.  His death has created a
great sensation among his fellow-students, by whom he
was held in the highest reverence and regard; which feelings were shared also by the Professors; several of whom
I heard expressing their utmost regret, and affirming him
to be the most distinguished, in point of ability and good
conduct, of all the disciples who ever attended them. I
yesterday communicated the afflicting intelligence to the
children of muy Sabbath-school.  They both knew and
loved him, he having taken charge of their religious instruction for one session of College. They were evidently
affected by the melancholy news.
"' To your Christian mind, there is a far richer consolation than that which is afforded by the report, or the remembrance of his first-rate talents; talents which would
have raised him to the highest summits of learning and
philosophy, had he not wished to consecrate them all to
the service of his Redeemer.  Your best, and most precious comforts, under this heavy dispensation, are to be
drawn from the consideration of that faith, by which he
was actuated; of that grace which animated his heart and
adorned his history; of that glory, for the enjoyment of
which he was so ripened and prepared; in a word, of that
promise, that they who sleep in Jesus, shall meet again in
that country, where sorrow and separation are alike uniknown.




268       MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.
"'Few parents are called to sustain so severe a loss as
you have now done; but with few, very few indeed, is the
loss tempered by such precious alleviations.' I am, my dear sir,
4' Youas, with sympathy and regard,
" THOMAS CHALMERS."
The following lines addressed to him  by one of his
correspondents, were, indeed, sadly prophetical of the
event which so soon after took place. They are simple,
and beautifully descriptive of the feelings, not of the writer only, but of his friend, and strikingly applicable to
his last closing scene.
2 TIMOTHY iv. 6.' The Christian Pilgrim bid depart,
Departs without a sigh,
Fear can no longer chill his heart,
Or sorrow dim his eye.
In tHeaven's own garments see him stand
On death's much dreaded shore,
lie gazes on the promised land,
And seems already o'er.
We saw him oft betray a fear
As near this flood he drew;
But now a willing pilgrim here,
He kindles at the view.
A ray hath broke from Canaan's land,
Across that sullen flood:
It bids him quit his mortal strand,
And onward march to God.




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUIIART.                 269
Hie marches on, for now his eye
Ialth lost life's lurid ray,
As suns which quit a clouded sky
To shine in brighter day.
Oh could we catch a moment's view,
Of what he now must know,
Sorrow would fill our spirits too,
To linger thus below."
I feel as if I had now filled my allotted task; and tla.t
it is better to draw this narrative to a close, than by
attempting anything in the shape of character, to deprive
the reader of the impression, which the facts themselves,
and the concluding scene, are fitted to produce.  But I
cannot abstain from a few concluding observations.
To me, the undertaking has been one of a very painful,
and, at the same time, pleasing nature; partaking  as
much of the mixed feeling, which the poet describes, as
"the joy of grief," as anything which has ever engaged
my attention.  How much I loved him, I have not ventured, nor will I now venture to express. That he was
entitled to it all, and to more than all, I am  well convinced.  If I felt towards him all the affection of a father,
he repaid it with all the tenderness and confidence of a
son.  I feel as if the world had become, by his death, less
an object of interest to me than it was; but I trust I have
also been made to feel, in common with many of his
devoted friends, that the attractions of a better world
have been multiplied and strengthened, by his removal
thither.
Afraid to trust myself in describing his character and
attainments, lest my personal feelings might be supposed
23*




270      MEMOIR  O F JOHN URQUHART.
to have too powerfully influenced my judgment, I have
interspersed the opinions and testimonies of others, with
my own statements, and the papers of the deceased.
These testimonies I have not nearly exhausted; nor is it
possible for me to convey an adequate idea of the extent
to which he was beloved and admired by all who knew
him.  The sweetness of his natural disposition, and the
bewitching simplicity of his manners; the soundness of
his judgment, and the fertility of his imagination; the
ardor of his pursuit of science and literature, with the
variety and accuracy of his attainments, rendered him
one of the most extraordinary individuals of his years.
When with these, are combined his extensive knowledge
of the mystery of redemption, and of the sacred volume;
his simplicity of aim, with the fixed and intense ardor of
his zeal; his love to the souls of others, which made him
ready to lay his learning, his talents, his genius, and his
life, at the foot of the cross, and to abandon the country
where he might have shone and triumphed, for scenes of
foreign labour and suffering; the eminent spirituality of
his mind, the consistency of deportment, and maturity of
character and experience, at which he arrived, I need
scarcely add, he presented an uncommonly rare assemblage
of natural, acquired, and Christian excellencies.  Of the
truth of this representation, every reader has now been
furnished with the means of judging for himself; and I
safely leave with him the conclusion to be drawn.
HIis Christian character is that on which the mind now
reposes, with the greatest satisfaction.  As it regards his
other attainments, "literature has failed, tongues have
ceased," and " knowledge has vanished away."  What he
was as a linguist, and a mathematician, might have been




MEMOIR OF JOHN URQU QCHAIRT.            271
of importance, had he lived; what he was as a believer in
Jesus, is the only thing of importance to him now.  He
has attained to the perfect state, and experiences a high
degree of that felicity, which he could so well describe,
and which he so earnestly panted to enjoy.
"If I might be allowed," says a correspondent, to
whom one of his last letters was addressed, " to say anything, from the acquaintance I had with him-and there
was scarce a day, last winter, in which I was not some
time with him-I would say of him, as his biographer said
of Henry Martyn,'A more perfect Christian character I
never knew.' Like Martyn, indeed, it might be said of
him,'His symmetry in the Christian stature, was as surprising as its height.' I never saw a finer example of  a
living sacrifice;' he seemed, indeed, to reckon himself not
his own, but bought with a price, and, as such, he was
entirely devoted to the glory of God. Nor did he care
what perils, or sufferings, he underwent, if so be that that
object might be promoted. In this cause, even death did
not appal him. I remember well, when he thought of
China as a scene of missionary labour; and when he was
told that the government positively prohibited the missionaries from preaching in that country, he said, he should
conceive it his duty to transgress this prohibition; and if
his death was the consequence, let it be so; the blood of
a missionary sometimes advanced the cause, as much as
his long life and labours.  Think of such devotion in a
youth of eighteen, whose rare talents and unquestioned
Christian character, gave him the fairest prospect of usefulness and comfort in his native land, while they would
have infallibly secured to him the admiration and affection




272.    MaEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 
of all who knew him.  He was eminently spirituallyminded. No one ever felt more the burden of indwelling
sin, and never did captive exile long more earnestly to be
loosed, than he did for deliverance from its taint and its
power.  Hence he dwelt much on the holiness of heaven.
It was the theme, he has often assured me, of his refreshing meditation, when his mind was depressed, as he looked
forward to the perils, and sufferings, and privations, which
he might be called to undergo in this world. I remember
one day, while I was with him, his telling me, that while
reading the Scriptures that morning, on this his favourite
subject, his mind was so wrapt in contemplation, that he
forgot, for the moment, where he was; till, when his consciousness returned, on looking into his own heart, polluted
with sin, and then into the world around him,'lying in
the wicked one,' he burst into tears.  He was possessed
of much tenderness of spiritual feeling, and was most
vividly impressed by every Scripture truth which he
received. In one respect, much of the same mind dwelt
in him, which was in Christ Jesus: he felt much for his
brethren of mankind, and his heart bled for the condition
of those who were not in Christ; yet was he possessed
with the keenest indignation at iniquity, and every exhibition of it provoked his holy abhorrence.  His was a,
character most exquisitely formed for Christian friendship. Possessed naturally of the most amiable dispositions, they were rendered still more so by the Spirit of
God which dwelt in him. In his friends, he encouraged
the most unbounded confidence; and his was a heart, into
which, when distressed or disgusted, they could unbosom
every thought which grieved them, and find a balsam for




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHART.              273
every wound. I speak not this at random. I know it
from sweet experience."
I cannot conclude the memoir of my beloved friend,
without once more soliciting the attention of the reader
to the prominent feature of his religion and of his religious character, - his devoted zeal to the glory of Christ
in combination with the salvation of men. It is obvious,
that, to diffuse the knowledge of the gospel in the world,
constituted his life and happiness. The subject pervades
all his papers, runs through all his letters, and at length,
entirely engrossed his thoughts.  In his case, it was
nothing assumed or professed, but something growing out
of the very principles of his faith, and constituting a
chief element in his religion. He had no conception of
Christianity, apart from the love of extending it.  That
which constituted its glory, in his eyes, was its perfect
adaptation to the wants and wretchedness of men; and
the more he knew the evil, and the better he became
acquainted with the remedy, the more powerfully he felt
the obligation to preach the gospel to every creature.
1-is devotedness, therefore, was not so much an act of
obedience to a law, as the operation of the great principle
of the new economy, and of the new nature, LOVE - grateful love to God, and compassionate love to men. Hence
the calmness and rationality, as well as the ardour of his
mind, in reference to this great subject.  He did not regard himself as making an unreasonable sacrifice, though
to certain consequences he was acutely sensible; or as
called to a work of a peculiar and unprecedented nature;
but merely as discharging a common obligation, and engaging in a service which ought, in one way or other, to




274      MEMOlIR  OF JOHN URQUHART.
be attended to by every disciple of Jesus.  He felt that
much had been forgiven him, he therefore loved much.
As he grew in spirituality of mind, he grew not only in
deadness to the world, but in indifference to those literary
and scientific pursuits in which he was so well qualified to
excel, and in his admiration of the superior excellence of
the knowledge of Christ Jesus his Lord. He despised them,
not because he was ignorant of them, or because they
were beyond his reach; but after he had subdued the difficulties of the ascent, and had their loftiest summits full in
view! Even then, he did not disregard them as worthless,
but as less worthy than another and a higher object.
While the laurels, which he had so honourably won, were
yet fresh and unwithered on his brow, he laid them at the
foot of the cross, and with high Christian magnanimity
declared, "that what things were gain to him, those he
counted loss for Christ."
When I speak of his indifference to the pursuits of
philosophy, I mean not to say that he neglected the cultivation of his mind, or that he turned aside from any of the
paths of learning and science which he was capable of exploring. I only mean to say that he pursued-them no
longer for their own sake, for the gratification which they
afforded, or for the earthly rewards which they might have
secured.  They became subordinate, in his mind, to an
ulterior object. In as far as they might fit him for more
eminent usefulness, he considered them important, and
studied them with diligence and unconquerable determination.
To the ardour of his spirit in the acquisition of the
qualifications which he felt to be necessary for the service of Christ, and the intense working of his mind in




MEMOIR  OF JOH N  URQUHARrT.               275
regard to that service itself, I have no doubt he fell a
sacrifice.  Many an individual has been a martyr for
Christ, who has not expired on a gibbet, or suffered at the
stake. Zeal for the glory and the house of God is a consuming principle.  It burnt up the Saviour himself, and
it has brought to a speedy termination the career of many
a disciple. Such, I feel assured, was the case of John
Urquhart.  His feelings became morbid; but this was the
result of weakness of body, rather than of any improper
or undue exercise of the mind.  The sensibilities of his
nature were indeed refined and excited by his Christian
principles, till they became too powerful for the bodily
structure on which they operated. But this reflects no
discredit on Christianity. It only illustrates the weakness
of man, and the disproportion of his powers to the magnitude and the lofty enterprise of the gospel.  Granting
that it killed the individual, it only follows, that the event
is mysterious, not that a loss has been sustained.  That
the reward of the sufferer is secured, we have the best
reason for believing; and that gain, rather than damage,
may arise to the cause of the Saviour, eternity will enable
us to discover.
Did the present state terminate the being and the bliss
of man, we might well be discouraged by the occurrence
of such early deaths, from cultivating our intellectual
faculties.  The uncertainty of enjoying them  for any
length of time is so great, that the labour of the cultivation might seem disproportioned to the result.  But if all
intellectual and moral worth shall find place and scope in
the eternal world, the case is very different.  No mental
attainment can be lost.  The language and the literature,
and the science of heaven may be different from all that




276      MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URJQUHART.
we have known on earth; but the capacity which grasped
the word and the works of God in this world, and which
was improved by the influence which is from above, will
operate in proportion to its strength and its spirituality
on the things of eternity.
If the reader is young, and enterprising; if he possesses
talents, and if those talents are cultivated; let me submit
to such an individual the consideration of the example,
and the lessons recorded in these memoirs. I mean the
example and the lesson of high devotedness. For what
purpose has God endowed you with his gifts, and blessed
you with his grace? What is your proposed field of glory
or enterprise?  Have you devoted your life and your
talents to Christ, or to the business and the ambition of
this world? Are you a Christian? Then is there one
object placed before you, and one course marked out for
you to follow.  "None of us liveth to himself."  Every
Christian is Christ's property and Christ's servant. The
service of Christ, the glory of Christ, and the salvation
of the world, are as much the interest of the weakest believer as they were that of the apostle Paul. Every Christian owes his all to the Redeemer; and Paul could owe no
more. We may not be honoured to preach the gospel, or
to die for the gospel; but to live and die to Christ is the
honour and privilege of all his saints. The life which is
consecrated to his service, and the talents which are devoted to his glory, will be found the happiest, and, in
the end, the most productive. It may be short, it may be
long, as the will of God shall determine; that is not our
concern, and ought not to cause our anxiety.  But it
ought to be our anxious and unceasing desire, that,
" whether we live, we may live unto the Lord; or whether




MEMOIR  OF JOHN  URQUHIART.               277
we die, we may die unto the Lord: that, whether we live
or die, we may be the Lord's." We are constantly reminded, by the events which occur, of the truth of the
Scriptures: "All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man
as the flower of grass.  The grass withereth, and the
flower thereof falleth away."  While these things humble
us, and remind us of our sinfulness and our mortality, we
still have hope. " We are cast down, but not destroyed;
we are sorrowful, yet always rejoicing:" for, "while the
world passeth away, and the lust thereof;" we know that
"he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever."
24








AP PENDIX.
A.
AN ESSAY ON THE NATURE AND DESIGN OF TIlE MISSION OF
TXIE SAVIOUR ON EARTH.
WHEN we look around us on the broad field of nature, and contemplate the numberless beauties of the universe, we are struck
with the great power and glory of God, as the Creator and Preserver
of all things.
When we turn over the page of history, and reflect on the ages
that are past, and more especially when we trace the various wanderings of the favoured descendants of Abraham, we are still more
imp-ressed with his goodness and wisdom as the God of providence.
When we turn to the inspired volume, and behold the just and
perfect nature of the law, which he has there announced to us, we
are led to adore his perfect justice and holiness as the great Lawgiver.
From these sources we may deduce many of the attributes of God,
and form some conception of his moral character; but there is a
darkness which envelopes it, which not one ray of mercy irradiates;
there is a cold gloom which hangs around it, and which is not
enlivened by one spark of love.
It is only through the atonement that we can behold him as the
God of mercy; it is here that he is emphatically styled the God of
love. It is only as he appears in the person of the Saviour that we
dare approach unto him; it is only here that he condescends to be
called " Immanuel, God with us."
(279)




280                    APPENDIX.
Here the darkness and uncertainty through which we viewed him,
are dispelled, and life and immortality are brought to light by the
gospel. tHere mercy and truth meet together, righteousness and
peace embrace each other.
The nature and design of the wondrous scheme of redemption
are beautifully and simply described to us by Jesus. Christ himself,
who tells us, that "God so loved the world, that he gave his only
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but
have everlasting life."
Here man is represented as perishing; for God gave his Son, that
whosoever believeth in him should not perish; by which is evidently
implied, that man, previously to his believing in the Son of God, is
in a perishing condition.
We would first then consider the perishing state of mankind which
called for the intercession of the love of God; and which is the state
of every sinner before he believes in the Saviour.
Here we would remark, that God did not create man in this perishing condition; he brought it upon himself. In the beginning,
God created man in his own image, that is, with a moral character
in conformity with his own, with a heart pure and holy, and abhorring iniquity. In this state of holiness, and at that time when man
was morally able to keep the commandments of an infinitely pure
and just God, his Creator, as a pledge of his attachment to himself,
desired him not to eat the fruit of a certain tree in the garden in
which he had placed him; and at the same time warned him, in the
most solemn manner, of the consequences of his disobedience. "In
the day that thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die."
In defiance of this awful warning, the first of mankind put forth
his hand and broke the commandment of that God who had bestowed
upon him every blessing. In consequence of this transgression, a
state of things took place, in which every descendant of Adam has
been utterly unable to keep that law which God was pleased to reveal
to them. This law is of necessity in accordance with God's own
character, - perfect, - promising life to every one that abideth in all
things that are written in it, to do them; and at the same time declaring, " The soul that sinneth it shall die."  Such a law is the
only one which could be given by a perfect God. Man had undergone a change: he was now become unable to keep any of the cor



MISSION  OF  THE  SAVIOUR.                     281
mandments of the Lord; but because man had fallen, the law of
God was not to be suited to his depraved capacities. Such an adaptation would have argued change in the Lawgiver, — in Him who
know s no variableness.nor shadow of turning.  This law every
individual of the human race has broken times and ways without
number. We all, like lost sheep, have gone astray. All have sinned
and come short of the glory of God.
This, then, was the state of our fallen race; we had all broken
God's law, and were exposed to its just condemnation. A holy God
could not wink at sin, nor a just God forgive iniquity:-it behoved
that satisfaction should be made, or that the whole human race
should be given up to endless destruction.
Such satisfaction man could not make; he could not even perform
his duty, much less atone for the sins he had committed.
None of the blessed spirits before the throne could give for us the
satisfaction required; they were all bound, as well as we, to render
perfect obedience for themselves at every moment of their existence,
and could, therefore, perform  no supererogatory duty to atone for
the sins of others. Since then man had sinned, since he could render
no satisfaction for himself, and since no created being, however
exalted, could render it for him, there was but one alternative: it
was necessary that the required satisfaction should be made by the
Judge himself, or that man should be consigned to endless punishrnent.
This is the condition alluded to in the passage we have quoted.
It was when man was in this state, when he had made God his
enemy by his multiplied transgressions, that that very God against
whom he had offended, "so loved the world, that he gave his only
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish,
but have everlasting life."  Yes I at that very time when all that
was dear to man seemed lost for ever,-when there seemed to be no
way of escape, - when there was no eye to pity nor hand to help,
-even then God said, "I have found a ransom."  His eye pitied,
and his right arm wrought salvation. No sooner had man fallen
from his innocence, than God declared to him that " the seed of the
woman should bruise the head of the serpent."  This was the first
of that lengthened series of prophecies regarding a future deliverer,
which terminated in the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. It was
24 *




282                    A  P EN DI x.
through faith in his name, as foretold in those prophecies, that the
people of God were saved, who lived before his coming; it is through
faith in his name, as manifested in the gospel, that more sure word
of prophecy with which we are favoured, that believers are saved
now; and through faith in his name also shall the elect be saved
unto the latest generations. " For there is none other name under
heaven, given among men, whereby we must be saved."
The design of the mission of Jesus Christ, we conceive, consists
chiefly in two things: —the one is usually denominated our justification, the other, our sanctification. The first of these consists in
our freedom from wrath, as the punishment due to our sins; being
that part of the atonement which reconciles our forgiveness with
God's justice, that through which he can be just and the justifier of
the sinner who believeth in Jesus.
The second, or our sanctification, is that which fits us for enjoying eternal life in the presence of God; being that part of the scheme
of redemption which reconciles our reception into favour, with God's
holiness; that through which he can be of purer eyes than to behold
iniquity, and yet hold communion with the most polluted sinner who
believeth in Jesus.
We have already shown that no less a being than God could atone
for sin; but we must now remark that as man had sinned, so the
law required that man should sutiffer. It was for this reason chiefly,
we conceive, that our Saviour took not on him the nature of angels,
but took upon him the seed of Abraham, being thus fitted in the
estimation of the law to atone for the sins of man. IHaving therefore in due time appeared in the flesh, and sojourned a considerable
time on earth for an example to his followers; the time drew nigh
when the sentence of the law should be fulfilled in him who knew
no sin; when he, who was God over all, blessed for ever, and who
thought it no robbery to be equal with the Father, should be made
a curse for us.
The sentence of the law was death; it behoved therefore, that the
substitute should bear that sentence, - and he did bear it in its fullest extent. He bore our sins in his own body on tle tree, and thus
magnified the law, and made it honourable. WVhile hanging on the
accursed cross, the Son of God exclaimed, "It is finished; and he
bowed his head, and gave up the ghost." Then was justice satisfied, —




MISSION  OF  THE  SAYVIOUR.                    283
it had wreaked its vengeance on the person of our Surety; and thus
as many as believe in him, are saved from the wrath to come.
While he thus obtained our justification on Calvary, our great
Redeemer also made provision for our sanctification.  While he was
yet with his disciples on the earth, he promised to send to them
" another Comforter, even the Spirit of truth."  To sanctify the
heart of the believer, and to assimilate his character to that of God,
is the peculiar office of the Holy Spirit.  Sanctification is not, like
justification, attained at once; it is a progressive process. When a
sinner believes in Jesus, his justification is completed, he is entirely
freed from the punishment due to sin; but he is then only partially
freed from the influence of sin itself. The work of the Spirit is only
begun in his heart. That work, however, will still go on; day by
day he will increase in love for holiness, and hatred of sin, though it
will never be completed on this side of the grave.
Such, we conceive, is the design of the gospel, and such the means
employed to accomplish this design. We shall now attempt to show
the fitness of the means for the end.
We have already seen that the law was not adapted to the fallen
state of man, nor indeed could be, so long as God was just; but
" what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh,
God, sending his Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemined sin in the flesh; that the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit."
To man in his fallen and depraved state, the gospel is most admirably adapted. In calling upon a sinner, it does not address itself to
his generous feelings; it does not appeal to his gratitude, and say,
"Can you any longer remain in disobedience to that God who has
done so much for you?"  " Can you any longer love sin, when you
see its awful consequences in the death of the Redeemer?" The
force of such language could only be felt by a renewed mind; such
language were addressed to an unregenerate sinner in vain.
In his mind there is no generous feeling; it is wholly selfish. In
his mind there is no impression of the love of God; there can, therefore, be no corresponding emotion of gratitude.  I-ow then, does the
gospel address him? Is there yet any principle left in his depraved
mind, which may be impressed by its declarations? Yes, there is
such a principle, it is this very selfishness by which we have characterized him, it is a love of self, a desire of self-preservation, a desire,




284                    APPENDIX.
when he sees his danger, to escape from the wrath to come. "What
shall I do to be saved?" is the language of every sinner in this condition.  It was for such characters that the gospel was intended,
and it is to such that it holds forth its most gracious invitations.
" Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved." " Come
unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you
rest."
If, through the blessing of the Holy Spirit, the sinner be led to
this refuge, he immediately experiences a heavenly joy, a peace
which the world knoweth not. To this joy succeeds love. HIis heart
is now in some degree sanctified, and hence, he is in some degree
capable of receiving impressions of holy love; the emotion of gratitude is excited in his bosom, and he loves in return. Hle feels that
the debt of love which he owes is far greater than he can ever pay:
and his language now is, " What can I do too much for him that
died for me?' It is no longer a selfish principle which influences
his conduct; he is now resolved to live not to himself but to HIim
who died for him, and who rose again. It is not now we apprehend
merely through the fear of future punishment, or even through the
hope of future reward, that he avoids sin, and follows after holiness.
He has now acquired a new nature, which cannot take pleasure in
iniquity. He is not indeed, freed from sin, for then he were perfectly happy; but it is now the object of his abhorrence, and he is
looking anxiously forward to the time, when it shall no more break
in upon his enjoyment.
Thus we have attempted to give a cursory sketch of the nature and
design of the mission of our Saviour; we have endeavoured to show
how he reconciled the forgiveness of sinners, and their reception into
favour, with the justice and purity of the divine character; and also
the fitness of the means employed for this purpose, and the wondrous
change produced by them, upon the character of man. And now let
the reader solemnly ask his own heart, "Am I a partaker of the
mercy here exhibited?" "Have I been led to commit my soul to
the keeping of Jesus?"
On the result of these questions depends our eternal happiness.
And in this important inquiry let us not deceive ourselves; "A tree
is known by its fruits."  If our character does not correspond with
the precepts of the gospel, whatever we may think, we have not believed it. And if we thus find that our belief has been merely nomi




MISSION  OF  THIE  SAVIOUR.                    285
nal, let us seek God before it be too late; let us come to him in the
way which he has appointed while it is called to-day; let us recollect
that " now is the accepted time, and now is the day of salvation."
Let us rernmember that every  omrnent we put off, our hearts are acquiring
an additional degree of hardness; and let us take warning from the
declaration, that "He that being often reproved, hardeneth his neck,
shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy."
But, if we do experience something of that joy and love which the
gospel describes, and have thus reason to think that we have believed
in the Son of God; let us not be content with what we have already
obtained; let us forget the things that are past, and press onward
to the things which are before, for the prize of our high calling in
Christ Jesus. Let us recollect that there is no standing still; that
if we are not growing in holiness and spiritual stlrength, we must be
falling back.  Let us beware of thinking that the contest is over, as
though we were already perfect; let us remember that sanctification
is a progressive work; that it is not to be attained in a single day, or
a single year, or in a series of many years, nor ever wholly attained,
so long as we remain in this world of sin.
As a means of attaining greater degrees of grace, let us look to the
Saviour and reflect on his finished work; the more we think on his
sufferings, the more will we hate sin, which was the cause of them i
The more we reflect on his love to us, the more will we love in return;
for "we love him, because he first loved us."  With our love, our
holiness will increase, and we shall be the more assimilated to his
glorious character; and consequently, we shall the more largely partakle of that happiness which is enjoyed by him in full perfection.
The subject of the love of God as exhibited in the atonement, is infinite, and will be the theme of our praises through eternity. But
though never able fully to comprehend, yet may we ever be learning
more of the height, and depth, and breadth, and length of that love
which passeth knowledge.




286                    APPEN D IX.
B.
DR. CHALMERS. -THE ST. ANDREW'S MISSIONARY SOCIETY.
PERHAPS an apology may be necessary for again calling the attention of our readers to a subject which may be supposed by some of
them to have already occupied too prominent a place in the pages of
the University Magazine. It is not, however, to the general subject
of missions that the following observations refer; but to an institution, which, for several reasons, is highly deserving of our attention.
The meetings of the St. Andrew's Missionary Society are conducted
by one of the most distinguished men of the present age; and one
who is both an eleve and a Professor of our own University. After
alluding to Dr. Chalmers, it is scarcely necessary to add, that the
perfect originality of the plan of procedure in the public meetings of
this society, furnishes the subject with an additional claim upon our
regard. We feel quite ashamed, indeed, that we have not ere now
given a more detailed account of these highly interesting meetings.
Our only excuse is, that we have felt unequal to the task. When
any subject is treated in an ordinary manner, a brief summary of
leading ideas may be sufficient to suggest a pretty accurate conception of the whole; as a well executed sketch may give a just enough
idea of a common painting. But should we attempt to give any adequate conception of the rich and expressive diction, and the living
imagery of Dr. Chalmers's style, by a meagre outline of his ideas, it
were something as if a mere dabbler in the fine arts should hold up
his own rude and imperfect sketch of some masterpiece of the pencil,
and pretend thereby to afford a just representation of that original,
in which every lineament gave grace and beauty, and every touch
gave life. This, therefore, we shall not attempt. Our object in these
remarks is to give some account of Dr. Chalmers's plan of procedure,
which we think might be extensively adopted in meetings of a similar
nature, with very considerable advantage.
Dr. Chalmers is, in the widest sense of the word, a Philosopher;
and philosophy is his companion wherever he goes. He has here
succeeded in introducing her into a place, where, it must be confessed, she has but seldom appeared hitherto, and where her friends
expected, least of all, perhaps, to find her, the meeting of a Missionary




ST. ANDREW S MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 287
Society. If we have been at all able to guess at the scope of Dr.
Chalmers's general plan, from the few of these meetings we have had
the pleasure of attending, he appears to us to have taken a most
interesting view of missionary operations. Hle seems to regard the
history of Christian enterprise among the heathen, as a wide field
of observation, from whence we may gather, by induction, some very
important truths in reference to the Christian religion. Accordingly,
while interesting selections are read from the periodical accounts of
different missionary societies, the inferences that may be legitimately
drawn from the facts there recorded, are set forth by Dr. Chalmers
in paragraphs of his own composition, occasionally interspersed with
extemporaneous explanation.  These serve to connect together the
extracts that are read, and thus give to the whole the air of a continuous and well arranged discourse, where some important doctrines
are advanced, which are proved as well as deeply impressed on' the
mind by an appeal to very striking historical illustration. Apparently from a desire to give a more distinct view of the different
spheres of missionary labour, Dr. Chalmers seems to wish to confine
his attention to the operations of one body of Christians at a time.
At those meetings which we have had the opportunity of attending,
during this and the preceding session, the facts which have formed
the ground-work of Dr. Chalmers's observations have been gleaned
chiefly fromn the accounts of the Moravian missions. We have been
informed that, during the summer months, the Church Missionary
Society, and the Baptist Missionary Society, have also shared his
attention.
T'he facts connected with the Missions of the United Brethren,
that Dr. Chalmers has brought forward, have given rise to some
investigations concerning the great principles of our faith, which
must prove interesting, not only to the supporters of missionary
societies, but to every one who feels any concern in the cause of
genuine Christianity. Some of these inquiries are so interesting,
and lead to results of such paramount importance, that we shall
refer a little more particularly to those facts which tend to their elucidation.
The United Brethren have been at once the most successful, and
the most popular of all missionaries. And it may be interesting to
examine a little more closely into these two characteristics of the
Moravian missions.  And, first, as to their success. — What has




288                     APPENDIX.
been the cause of it?  What are their views of divine truth.? Whlat
has been the mode of their instruction?  And in their discourses,
what are the truths which they bring most prominently forward?
It is well known that, on this very subject, there is a division of
opinion among the teachers of Christianity in our own land. One
would think that a careful examination of facts might lead to a
satisfactory determination of this question.
Some theologians are of opinion that a few of the leading truths
of the gospel, such as the atonement of Christ, and the other doctrines that are inseparably connected with it, should hold a most
prominent place in their public instructions.  Others, while they
may admit that these truths are contained in the Scriptures, and as
such are to be received by us as matters of faith, are yet of opinion
that they are a little too mysterious for the common people, and
assure us that they think themselves far more likely to promote the
cause of religion and virtue, if, instead of chiming on a few theoretical dogmas, they attempt to enforce on the attention of their hearers, those divine precepts, which embody the principles of a morality, the purest and most perfect that the world has ever known.
Now, on perusing the accounts of the Moravian Missions, we find
that, on this very subject, a most interesting experiment has actually
been made.  These two systems of religious instruction have been
successively brought to bear upon the same people, while their circumstances remained the same; and therefore the experiment may
be deemed a fair and decisive one. What renders the case still
more interesting, is its great simplicity. There are no disturbing
forces, so to speak, to confuse or embarrass our calculations in this
highly important question of moral dynamics.  The subjects of the
experiment were savages in the very lowest state of degradation,
and therefore we have no allowance to make for any state of preparation that might result fiom previous knowledge.  If it appear
from the facts to which we shall refer, that the declaration of those
doctrines generally deemed too abstract to produce any practical
effect on the popular mind; the doctrines, viz.; of the total depravity of all mankind, - of the vicarious suffering of the Son of God,
-of justification through belief in his atonement, and sanctification
through the emission of the IIoly Spirit; if it appear that the
simple declaration of these truths has wrought efficiently to the
moral and economic renovation of the most ignorant, and the most




ST. ANDREW' S MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 289
barbarous of the human species; then it follows afortiori that these
are the doctrines which when preached in our own country, are
most likely to prove effectual in producing uprightness, sobriety,
and godliness throughout our own enlightened community.
To come then to the facts. The scene of the experiment was the
inhospitable region of Greenland; and the moral and intellectual
condition of the inhabitants was even more barren and dreary than
the scenery with which they were surrounded. Here the only plausible system of instruction seemed to be to attempt to teach the
savages those truths which are of a preliminary nature. Accordingly, the missionaries set to work most assiduously, in telling the
Greenlanders of the being and character of a God, and of the requirements of his law. IHowever plausible this mode of instruction may
appear, it was patiently continued in for seven years, without producing even the smallest effect on those hearts which ignorance and
stupidity had rendered almost inaccessible.  The first conversion,
(as far as man was concerned), may be said to have been accidental.
Some Southlanders happened to visit the brethren, as one of them
was writing a translation of the gospels. They were curious to
know what was in the book, and on hearing read the history of
Christ's agony in the garden, one of the savages earnestly exclaimed,
"IHow was that?  Tell me it once more; for I also would fain be
saved." But it would be foreign to our purpose to enter into a
minute detail of facts. We refer those who may wish to inquire
more particularly into this most interesting passage of ecclesiastical
history, to the original accounts,* which may be found in the library
of the University Missionary Society. Suffice it to say, that some
time after this remarkable conversion, the brethren entirely changed
their method of instruction. " They now directed the attention of
the savages, in the first instance, to Christ Jesus, to his incarnation,
to his life, and especially to his sufferings."t This was the beginning of a new era in the history of the evangelization of Greenland.
Conversion followed conversion, till the missionaries could number
Iundreds to whom  the message of God had come, not in word
only, but also in power. There is still one objection that may be
* See Brown's History of Missions, vol. i. p. 294-298. Crantz's History of
Greenland.
t See Brown's History of Missions.
25




290                    APPENDIX.
made to the inference drawn from these facts, and one which at first
sight appears very plausible. It may be asked, How do we know
how far the first mode of instruction employed by the missionaries,
although it produced no immediate benefit, may not have prepared
the minds of savages, for receiving with intelligence the truths that
were afterward declared to them? To this we answer that previous
to the preaching of the gospel, the savages do not seem to have been
so much interested in their teachers, as to give them a fair hearing;
and they surely could not be influenced by instructions to which they
had never listened. But even were this a doubtful matter, the first
conversion in Greenland is a splendid proof of the way in which the
simple truths of the gospel seek their way to the human heart,
unpioneered by any preliminary instruction whatever.
But, quite satisfactory as this experiment is, still, did it stand
alone, we might justly be charged with a rash induction, in drawing
a general conclusion from premises so limited.  But it does not
stand alone. The Moravians have attempted the conversion and
civilization of men of almost every country and of every condition;
and their uncommon success is borne testimony to, by all who have
visited the scenes of their philanthropic exertions. Amid the snows
of Greenland they have planted their little villages of comfort and
happiness; and the eye of the traveller has been refreshed, as it
lighted on some spot of luxuriant verdure, which their hand has
decked out in the midst of an African desert.* And, wherever
success had attended their endeavours, whenever they tell of a single
addition to the number of their converts, it is to the preaching of
Christ, and of him crucified, that they attribute it all. Indeed, if
we inquire into the reason why the Moravians have been more successful than other missionaries, we find that the distinguishing peculiarity of their preaching consists in this, that they dwell more
simply and more constantly, on the love of Christ. In all parts of
the world their mode of teaching has been nearly the same, and the
change which their instructions have produced, upon men, the most
diverse in their character and circumstances, is a beautiful illustration of the divine efficacy which accompanies the simple preaching
of the gospel. Under the instruction of these simple, and often
uneducated men, the roving and unrestrained savage has been led
* See Barrow's Travels.




ST. ANDREW S MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 291
to abandon his irregular habits, and to cultivate the decencies of
civilized life. Under their instruction, the North American Indian
has been divested of his barbarous cruelty, and has even been known
to suffer the most palpable injustice, and the most inhuman treatment from his countrymen, without an attempt, or even a wish to
revenge. And, finally, under their instruction, the degraded, and
almost heart-broken slave has been led to bow to the scourge of his
insulting oppressor, with a meekness and submission, which the
religion of Jesus alone could inspire.
These are facts; and facts are far more eloquent than words. We
leave them to make their own impression.
We are aware that we may seem to have dwelt too long on this
one illustration; but the paramount importance of the subject is a
sufficient excuse. Almost every extract that Dr. Chalmers has read,
has tended to demonstrate the vast superiority of that mode of
Christian instruction which is generally termed evangelical.
After dwelling so long on a single illustration of Dr. Chalmers's
method of conducting the business of these meetings, we could have
wished much in the present paper, (and more especially as this is
the last opportunity that may now be afforded of so doing), to have
gone on with a more general account of the numerous interesting topics
that have been discussed during the course of the doctor's prelections.
There is still one point, however, regarding the missions of the United
Brethren, which we should be most unwilling slightly to pass over.
And we are the less sorry, that we have been led, in these detached
sketches, to confine our attention exclusively to one or two points in
the history of missions, inasmuch as we have all along expressed it
to be our design, to draw the attention of our readers, not so much
to the subject of missions, as to those important truths which the
experiments of Christian philanthropy may have tended more strikingly to illustrate, and more firmly to establish.
We have said of the United Brethren, that they have been at once
the most successful, and the most popular of all missionaries. We
have, already, at some length, inquired into the causes of their success; it now remains, that we briefly advert to the subject of their
popularity.
We have already seen that the peculiar views of religious truths
which these Christians entertain, are not such as generally meet




292                     APPENDIX.
with very high admiration in the world; and any person who has
just glanced at their writings, must know, that the way in which
they express their sentiments, is not very highly calculated to please
the ear or gratify the taste of general readers. Certainly, at first
sight, it is not very easy to conceive how the very persons who dwell
most exclusively on those doctrines of the Bible, that are known to
be most revolting to mere men of taste, should at all have attracted
their attention, or gained their esteem. And yet it is a notorious
fact, that by men in power, in the colonies where they labour, the
Moravian missionaries are very highly respected; while, among men
of taste at home, they have become the objects of an almost sentimental admiration. The explanation of the matter which Dr. Chalmers has given, is at once simple and satisfactory. It is just this:
The thing has had time to work. And those very principles which
themselves are so generally nauseated by men of science and literature, have effloresced into a beauty and a luxuriance which command
the esteem, and excite the admiration of all.
When the man of taste reads in the accounts which these missionaries give of their success, such sentences as these, " Our Saviour
continues to bless our feeble testimony, concerning the atonement
which he has made for sinners;" "The Lord graciously owns our
feeble endeavours, and accompanies with his blessing the preaching
of the word of the cross," * (and these are fair specimens of the whole
strain of their writings;) in all probability, the sneer of mingled
pity and contempt curls upon his lips, or he turns proudly away
with loathing and disgust. But when the same individual is told of
smiling villages, and cultivated fields, starting forth as if by magic,
in the midst of a barren wilderness, when he hears that those whom
he had been wont to rank, in point of intellect, with the inferior
creation, are now disciplined in the elements of general knowledge,
and skilled in the endowments of the arts, when he beholds the wandering marauders of the desert associated in little communities where
peace and order reign in every breast, and comfort smiles upon every
family; his whole soul is enraptured by the realization of those very
scenes, the mere imagination of which has given to poetry and romance,
their chief and loveliest attractions.
Periodical Accounts of the Missions of the United Brethren.




ST. ANDREW'S   MISSIONARY SOCIETY.  293
Indeed, so different are the emotions excited in the mind of a man
of taste, by the contemplation of the principles which are at work,
and of the effects that are evolved by their operation, that he cannot
be brought to believe that there is any such close connection between
the result, and that which is alleged to be the cause of it. IIe will
not admit that a state of things, so truly worthy the admiration of
every benevolent and right thinking mind, could ever have been the
result of a mode of operation so despicably weak and unphilosophical.
And so biassed is his judgment by former prejudices, that no form
of evidence, however strong, can ever compel him to the belief that
those scenes of happiness and prosperity, which have so charmed
his fancy, can at all have anything to do with the canting weakness,
or the severe austerity of a system, which, far from thinking it capable of introducing order and comfort, where confusion and misery
had reigned before, he had always been wont to regard as that which
damped the hilarity, and embittered the pleasures of those who were
weak enough to become the dupes of its hypocritical promulgators,
even in happier lands. Accordingly, in the broad day-light of the
strongest evidence for the contrary, it has been most confidently
asserted, that the success of the Moravian missionaries is not at all
to be referred to those causes to which themselves have ascribed it.
The celebrated traveller, Barrow, who visited the stations of the
brethren in South Africa, gives the very highest testimony to the success of their operations; but the nature of their operations themselves, he most grossly misrepresents.  Tfheir system  he contrasts
with one, which he is pleased to call that of the " gospel missionaries."  "Instead of preaching to the natives," he informs us, " the
mysterious parts of the gospel, the Moravians instructed them in useful industrious habits; instead of building a church, they erected a
storehouse.  Their labours were crowned with complete success." *
In a paper on Barrow's work, in the Edinburgh Review, as well as
in another article in the same periodical, on Lichtenstein's Travels,
the same high commendation is awarded to the Moravians, for the
wisdom manifested in their plans, and the same gross misrepresentations are made in regard to the nature of these plans.t  In the last
* Barrow's Journey in Africa, p. 881.
t Edinburgh Review, vol. viii. p. 434 - 438, and vol. xxi. pp. 65, 66.
25 *




294                    A P P END IX.
mentioned article we are expressly told that the IMoravian brethren
"begin with civilizing their pupils, educating and instructing them
in the useful arts."  We are not sure whether this reviewer was the
original inventor of the oft-repeated objection to missions in general,
that "you must civilize a people before you can Christianize them."
But if he was, it is most unfortunate for his theory that he happened
to stumble on the operations of the Moravian missionaries, in order
to support it; for never has the objection met with more triumphant
refutation, than in the successful labours of these devoted philanthropists.  The author of the review  meant to compliment the
MIoravians; but they felt insulted by his eulogium, and were the first
to come forward and deny his assertions.
Here, then, is a very high testimony to the efficacy of evangelical
religion.  A person unacquainted with the hidden mechanism, is
delighted with the visible effects which are produced by it. He begins to speculate on the principles in which such results must have
originated. He forms a theory of his own, agreeable to his own
previously acquired modes of thinking, and proceeds forthwith to
compliment those who had acted on so excellent a plan, and who had
demonstrated its efficacy by the beautiful system which they had
caused to emerge from it. The workers behind the scenes, now come
forward, and tell him that he has quite mistaken the matter; for
they have been acting on a system altogether different. Our speculator is not only disappointed to find that his own theory receives no
support from the facts under consideration, and may not, for aught
that he has yet seen, merit the high eulogiums, with which he has
thought fit to honour it; but he is confounded to discover, that he
has been unwillingly bearing testimony to the merits of a plan at
variance with his own; and that the system  to which his high
eulogiums are now most legitimately transferable, is one, which he
has all along been accustomed to declaim against as irrational, and
to despise as unphilosophical.




DIVISIONS OF  PHILOSOPHY.                      295
C.
ESSAY ON THE DIVISIONS OF PIILOSOPHY.
THE first which I shall give, is the essay read at the commencement of the class, and which has been repeatedly referred
to already.  At this time it must be remembered the writer had
not enjoyed the benefit of Dr. Chalmers's course. It had only then
begun.  The subject is difficult, the paper is short; but the statement is most luminous, and the illustration uncommonly beautiful and felicitous.
In considering this subject, the question has very forcibly presented itself to us, " Why, in the physical department of philosophy,
have the divisions and sub-divisions been carried to such a degree of
minuteness, while in the moral department, they are comparatively
few?"  Not, we conceive, because in the latter the field of observation is more limited, or the materials more scanty than in the former;
(for quite the reverse of this we believe to be true,) but chiefly because the latter is involved in the darkness of mystery, which entirely
obscures many of those lines of demarcation, which even in the
former, are not very strongly delineated.
Let us suppose, in illustration of this, that a man wholly unacquainted with the classifications of philosophy, looked around on an
ordinary landscape. There are traces of such marked distinction
between some of the objects, and such strong points of resemblance
between others, that he could not fail to make some general arrangement and classification of the whole. He would at once distinguish
the land from the water, and the green herbage from the naked rock,
and the houses from the trees, and the animate from the inanimate
objects that surrounded him. If we further suppose that while he
was thus gazing on the scene, the shades of night began to gather
around him, it is easy to conceive how many of the nicer lines of
distinction which were before so apparent, would now become dim
and undiscernible; how the sky would seem to mingle with the
ocean; and how the herbage, and the trees, and the houses, and the




296                    APPENDIX.
animals, would be involved in one dark shade of unvaried same-iess;
and how, where he could before point out many a division, and
many a sub-division, two or three grand lineaments, and these but
faintly perceptible, would be all he could discern within the whole
range of his survey.
And thus it is with the two grand divisions of philosophy; the
philosophy of matter, and the philosophy of mind. In the one we
have to do with an external world, where all is luminous and distinct; in the other we have to do with the busy world within, where
all is seen as through a glass, darkly. Need we wonder, then, that
the one has been far more minutely divided and sub-divided than
the other?
Accordingly we find that while mental science has been divided
into three parts, viz., Logic, Rhetoric, and Moral Philosophy, the
divisions of physical science amount to at least ten times that
number.
But not only are the divisions of mental science few, but few as
they are, they have been confounded together. And this we think
has arisen, not so much from that obscurity which envelopes the
whole subject, as from the intimate connection with each other of its
different departments.
There is here a distinction, which we would notice, between the
physical and mental sciences, that while the materials of the former
are widely scattered over the whole face of nature, and seem not to
be connected by any common tie, those of the latter have all a reference to a single object -the human mind. It is thus, that, as
among the members of the human body, there exists among all the
departments of this latter science, a common sympathy, if we may
so speak; so that if one suffer, all suffer with it; if one is injured,
all are injured. And it is this very close connection which has been
the cause of their being confounded together.
To illustrate this, let us suppose that war has been declared
against one of two confederate states, and that the inhabitants of
the other come promptly forward, to defend the territories of their
ally, and that after they have succeeded in beating off the enemy,
they still linger in the country, and become gradually so amalgamated with the original inhabitants, that in process of time the two
peoples are confounded in one.




NATURE  AND  POLITICAL  ECONOMY.  297
Now this, we think, is just what has happened with regard to the
moral and intellectual philosophies. Distinctly separate, yet nearly
allied; the attack which Mr. Hume made upon the one, struck,
though indirectly, at the very vitals of the other, and the champions
of moral science wisely took the alarm. It was then first, that with
a laudable zeal, they overstepped the limits of their own domain;
and had they returned when tranquillity was restored, they had done
well. It is not for going forth to meet a common enemy that we
censure them, but because when that enemy was defeated, they still
lingered in a foreign land, and forgot to retire within their own
peculiar territories.
ESSAY ON THE ANALOGY WHICH  SUBSISTS BETWEEN THE
OPERATIONS OF NATURE AND THE OPERATIONS OF POLITICAL ECONOMY.
ON the 31st of the same month he read another essay in the
class, on one of the topics of Political Economy, around which the
fertile genius of Dr. Chalmers has thrown a fascination and a
splendour, of which the subject was not previously supposed to be
susceptible.  How thoroughly his pupil was imbued with the
ardent spirit of his professor, this essay most powerfully illustrates. Every reader will form his own judgment of the argument.  Of the composition of the paper, and the beauty of the
illustration, there can be but one opinion
It has been said by some writers of natural history, that an antidote to the venom of the serpent is to be found within the body of
the animal itself. We know not whether there be any truth in this
assertion; but if there be, that must surely be a very beautiful
mechanism by which those very organs which produce a deadly poison,
produce also a remedy for its fatal effects; and surely that arrangement is a display of the most consummate wisdom by which the
efficient cause of an evil is also the efficient cause of its cure.




298                    APPENDIX.
Now there is a principle very much akin to this, which exists in
almost all the operations of nature, a principle to which nature in
a great measure owes that constancy for which she has been so
greatly admired. The principle we refer to is this, - That an operation of nature whenever it arrives at that stage in its progress,
where its effects would begin to be detrimental, by a very beautiful
constitution of things, gives rise to an operation of an opposite
tendency, and thus works out a cure for those very evils which itself seemed to threaten.  Thus, were we unacquainted with the
workings of nature, and did we behold the sun, day after day, shining on the earth with unclouded splendour; and did we perceive
that, day after day, in consequence of this the soil was becoming
more parched; and did we further know that, without moisture,
vegetation would cease, and the fruits of the earth could not come
to perfection, -we might well look forward with the most dismal
foreboding to what would seem the inevitable consequence. But
how would our fears give place to our admiration of the Creator's
wisdom and goodness, when we were told that that sun which we
were thus contemplating as the cause of so much misery, was at
that very moment gathering by the influence of his rays, the waters
of the ocean, and suspending them in mighty reservoirs above us,
which would again gently descend over the whole surface of our
earth, and thus refresh the drooping plants, and give a new impulse
to the economy of vegetation.  There is another very beautiful
instance of the operation of this principle. When any particular
region of the earth begins to be overheated, the air is rarefied, -it
consequently ascends; the cool air which is around, rushes in to
supply its place, and thus does a refreshing breeze blow over that
land, which had else been in a short time rendered uninhabitable.
And now to apply this to the subject before us. In the operations of political economy, as well as in the operations of nature,
there is a beautiful constancy; and it is truly wonderful to think
what a rough handling a nation will come through, and with what
hardihood she will endure it; to think how famine and pestilence,
and foreign war, and internal commotion, will successively lay
hold of her; and how she will escape from their grasp, and in a
few short years will be nearly what she was before she was subjected
to it. And as the operations of political economy resemble the ope



NATURE AND POLITICAL ECONOMY. 299
rations of nature in their constancy, we think they also resemble
them in the cause of this constancy; and we shall try to illustrate
this by an example or two.
Thus, in every country there should be a certain relation between
the produce and the population; and it is interesting to observe how
the constancy of this relation is maintained, through all the changes
to which a nation is exposed.
Let us suppose, for example, that by improvements in tilling the
ground, in the rotations of the crops, &c., the agricultural produce is increased, and thus the constancy of the relation between
the produce and the population is for a time destroyed. There is in
this instance a superabundance of produce, or what is the same
thing, there is a deficiency of population. Now let us see how the
original relation between them is again restored. The agricultural
produce being increased, more corn is brought to market, and the
demand, in the first instance at least, remains the same: the consequence is, corn is cheapened. The cheapening of corn again puts
more of the inhabitants in a condition to support a family; marriages take place earlier, and the population is increased; and thus
is the deficiency made up, and the proper relation between the produce and the population again restored.
But it must be evident to every one, that were the population thus
to go on increasing indefinitely, the proper relation would soon be
more than restored, the ratio would become reversed, and instead
of a superabundance of produce, there would soon be a redundancy
of population. But here, too, may we behold the beautiful effect
of that arrangement, by which the remedy for the evil is involved
in the evil itself. As the population has now increased, the demand
has also increased: but in this latter instance the supply has remained the same; the natural consequence of which is, that the
price of corn rises. It is now of course more difficult to support a
family; marriages are discouraged, and thus does the very increase
of population, as soon as it comes to that point where its further
increase would be detrimental, actually bring a check upon itself.
Again, from various causes we sometimes see an old manufacture
abolished. And here there would seem to be a great and immediate
evil; a vast number of operatives are thrown out of employment.
And yet, if we consider the subject attentively, we shall find that




300                   APPENDIX.
here, too, as well as in the example already adduced, the evil, if let
alone, will remedy itself. And wherever we thus see an old manufacture abolished, may we with confidence predict that the wealth
which supported that manufacture, will either give rise to a new
one, or will so divide itself among those that yet remain, as to give
a new impulse to each. And thus will the evil be remedied, and that
class of the community which have been thrust from their old occupation, will either find employment in a new manufacture, or will
be parceled out among the manufactures that yet remain. There is
still as much food for them in the country as before, and all that
they will suffer will merely be the temporary inconvenience attending a change of employment.
Were one of the mouths of the Nile to be stopped up, that river
would not discharge less water into the ocean than it did before.
The water which used to flow through that channel, would at first,
it is true, flow backwards; but it would not continue to do so, nor
would it even remain stationary; it would seek another direction,
and it would either overflow the banks, and hollow out a new channel
for itself, or it would divide itself and flow to the sea, through the
channels that yet remained. And here, by the way, would we
advert to that political delusion which would magnify the importance of any one branch of manufacture or commerce. The waters
of the ocean would not be diminished by one drop, because they had
ceased to receive the tribute of that stream. So long as the same
body of water continued to flow on from the fountain head, so long
would the monarch of waters know no diminution in his resources.
And it were well if our statesmen, as well as our operatives, could
perceive that the manufacture does not produce either the taxes in
the one case, or the wages in the other; that it is merely the channel
through which they flow; and that so long as the national ability
remains the same, neither the revenues of the state, nor the wages
of the operatives will suffer one iota of diminution by the decay of
any one branch of commerce or manufacture. We do not say that
in such an event there would be no loss at all; but we do affirm that
ultimately the loss would not be sustained by the government, nor
by those employed in the manufacture, but by the public at large.
To return to our illustration. That particular branch of the Nile
might have added much to the beauty of the scenery on its banks,




NATURE AND POLITICAL ECONOMY. 301
and might have ministered in a high degree to the enjoyment, and
even to the comfort of those who dwelt among them; and the stopping up of its channel would be felt by them to be a very serious inconvenience. And thus, too, the particular branch of manufacture
might have furnished an article which contributed very much to the
enjoyment or the comfort of the public; and in so far its decay
might be felt as a very calamitous event. But still our remark holds
true, that ultimately the operatives will not suffer; that ultimately
the state will not suffer; that in this respect the evil will remedy itself;
that if the stream of public wealth flow not through that channel,
it will seek out another, and that if there be a temporary stagnation
till the new outlet be formed, it will be compensated by the more
than usual rapidity of the current, when it has cleared away the
obstructions.
We hope the two examples we have adduced may have been sufficient to illustrate that constitution of things, by which an evil is
made to remedy itself, and to show how the operation of this principle serves to regulate the vast machinery of a nation, and to give
a constancy and a steadiness to all its movements. And we would
now ask to what should the discovery of this lead us?
We might have concluded a priori that that God whose goodness
is over all his works, while he regulated all the changes of nature,
and maintained an unvarying constancy in all her operations, would
not leave to chance, or to the guidance of mere human wisdom, the
regulation of those principles on which depends the temporal happiness of his rational creatures. And when in the workings of these
principles we discover that same constancy which distinguishes the
operations of nature, and the same means employed to preserve that
constancy; and when we perceive, further, that all this may go on
independent of our knowledge, and most certainly does go on independent of our direction; should it not go very much to strengthen
the conclusion? Let us acknowledge then, that there is here the
working of a mightier agency than man; and let us ascribe that
constant hardihood with which a nation survives all the changes
that pass over her, to the care and the wisdom of that same Mighty
Being, " who causeth the vapours to ascend from the ends of the
earth: who maketh lightnings for the rain; and who bringeth the
wind out of his treasuries."
26




802                   APPENDIx.X.
The concluding paragraph is a beautiful instance of the prevailing disposition of the writer's mind, and of the happy ease with
which he could connect every speculation and exercise with his
leading and darling subject.  His mind traced the hand of the
benevolent Creator in all his operations, whether of nature or of
providence. He beheld and adored his wisdom, both in the uncontrolable and efficient laws of the universe, and in the frame
and constitution of society.  What affected his own mind, he was
desirous should affect the minds of others; and " out of the fulness of his heart, his mouth spake." Yet there is no thrusting of
the subject forward.  It is not only presented in all its importance, but with the grace and modesty which could not fail to
command respect and attention.
Not satisfied with his labours in the several classes which he
attended, he took an active part in a Literary Society, consisting
of the young men attending the University; and at one of its
meetings, held on the 11th of December, he read an essay, or
delivered a speech, on the following subject: —
THAT KNOWLEDGE GIVES ITS POSSESSOR MORE POWER THAN
WEALTH DOES.
IT has been said by Lord Bacon, that "knowledge is power," and
the same thing has been asserted of wealth by Mr. Hobbes. And
with both these statements we perfectly agree. The very nature of
our present debate presupposes the truth of both. The question this
evening is, "Whether does wealth or knowledge give its possessor
more power?" Now we do think that there is a great deal of vagueness in the terms of the question; and we do anticipate, fiom this, a
good deal of misapprehension, and a good deal of wrangling about
words and definitions, when, after all, the disputants may be one
in sentiment. There are various views that may be taken of the
question; and we shall first consider it in its strict and literal inter



THE POWER OF KNOWLEDGE.    303
pretation; and in this view, we think, there can be little or no debate
at all. The very fiercest of our opponents, we should think, will
allow, that wealth, altogether apart from knowledge, can accomplish
nothing at all; for a certain degree of knowledge is necessary to the
right application of wealth. An idiot might lavish the most boundless fortune, and after all be further from his point than he was before. On the other hand, we frankly confess, that knowledge, altogether apart from wealth, can accomplish but little, since a certain
portion of wealth is necessary to carry our plans into execution.
The fact is, that, to accomplish anything of importance, they must
go hand in hand, knowledge must devise the plan, and wealth, in
general, must furnish the means to carry that plan into execution.
To knowledge and wealth may we justly apply the language of Sallust,
when speaking of the mind and the body: " Utrumque per se indigens,
alterum alterius auxilio eget."
But even in this view of the subject there are some things which
knowledge can do altogether independent of wealth, though we know
of none that wealth can do altogether independent of knowledge.
Thus, with a mere knowledge of the power of the lever, (a machine
so simple that it may be had for nothing,) I can raise a very great
weight; a thing to accomplish which, wealth might have been lavished
in vain.
But there is another view of the subject, and we think the most
correct of all, in which wealth itself may be said to be the result of
knowledge, and, consequently, all the power which is attributed to
wealth may be referred to knowledge as its ultimate cause. And,
that this a correct view, a very slight attention to the subject will
convince us. Let us look to that country which is sunk lowest in
the depths of ignorance, and we shall invariably find that that country too is sunk lowest in the depths of poverty and wretchedness;
and that, on the other hand, that country which stands highest in
the scale of knowledge, stands highest also in the scale of wealth.
And if we just consider how much commerce is indebted to the invention of the compass, and the discoveries of astronomy, and how much
manufactures owe to the invention of machinery, and how much
their productive powers are thus increased, we shall come to the conclusion, that almost, if not altogether, all our wealth is the result of
our knowledge. Most justly then, viewing the subject in this light,




804                    APPENDIX.
might we turn the weapons of our opponents against themselves,
and make their every argument, for their side of the question, to tell
most powerfully against them on our own.
But this, though the most just and philosophical view of the question, is evidently not the view that was intended to be taken of it:
for it is a view that resolves the question itself into an absurdity -
a view, which, if the framers of the question had taken, they would
never have framed it at all. And though we could thus take the advantage of our adversaries by disarming them, and then by those very
arms, compelling them to surrender, we are not reduced to such a
shift; we can meet them upon more honourable terms.
We shall therefore attempt to show, that, even in the more loose
and ordinary interpretation of the question, knowledge gives its possessor more power than wealth does. And, as the word power is
very general and undefined, we shall take two modifications of it;
viz., mechanical power, and political power. By the mechanical
power of knowledge, we mean that power which it gives us over inanimate nature; and, by political power, that power which it give us over
our fellow-men; and from both these acceptations of the term, we
shall try to show, that knowledge gives us more power than wealth.
First, with regard to its mechanical power. We would remark here,
that two agents may both be capable of performing the same thing,
and yet the power of the one may very much exceed that of the
other; and in such a case we must estimate their relative power by
the effort which it costs each to perform the thing in view, and we
shall find that the power is inversely as the effort. Thus I may be
able to lift a weight with my little finger, which a child can do only
by exerting his whole strength, and in this case I am said to have
more power than the child, because the effort it costs me to do the
same thing is not so great. Now, we shall take a case analogous to
this where something is to be done, and where knowledge and wealth
may be said to be the agents, where we have a distinct view of the
way in which each performs it.*  Wealth performs the task, but it
is with such an effort as almost drained the coffers of even Roman
resources. She builds a gigantic bridge across the valley, while
knowledge accomplishes the same object by simply laying a pipe
along the ground. When we compare the vast and imposing fabric
of an ancient aqueduct with the simple, and withal, undignified'- The problem is to carry water across a valley.




TIHE POWER OF KNOWLEDGE.                       305
%pparatus of a modern water-pipe, we cannot fail to be struck with
the ease and simplicity with which knowledge can perform  that
which it costs wealth such an effort to accomplish. And one would
think, that in viewing these proud remains of Roman wealth and
Roman ignorance, a feeling of the painfully ludicrous would stifle
our rising admiration of their sublimity, and that the very grandeur
of their structure, when compared with their design, would remind
us of
--   " an ocean into tempest wrought
To waft a feather, or to drown a fly."
But though, in the present instance, wealth, by the mightiness of
the effort, may seem to rival knowledge in solving the problem, there
are many instances were she is left far behind, and cannot by the
very mightiest efforts, come up with knowledge.
By the assistance of knowledge, we are enabled almost by a touch
of our finger, to raise the most immense weights, and may almost be
said to weigh the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance.
By her assistance can we scour the unknown regions of ether, and
penetrate the still more secret caverns of the deep. By her assistance too, can we guide a floating city over the main, and turn it at
our will by a little helm. By her assistance, too, can we impress
the very elements into our service, and make the winds our messengers, and the water and the fire our slaves. And by her assistance,
too, can we give to inanimate objects all the vigour of animal life;
thus creating for ourselves a Behemoth, whose bones are brass, and
sinews bars of iron; thus making him our slave, and forcing him to
prepare for us those necessaries and conveniences which formerly
we obtained by the sweat of our brow. Such is the power of knowledge; and, till our adversaries can give us instances of the power
of wealth, which can be compared with them, we think that we have
gained the question.
We intended next to have treated of political power; but we shall
first bear refuted the arguments we have already adduced.
26 *




306                    APPENr  D IX.
None of my young friend's Essays have pleased me more than
the one, which is now to follow.  It was read to the moral class,
on the 10th of January, 1825. The subject afforded a favourable
opportunity of introducing the evangelical system, and that
opportunity was not neglected.  But there is more than the
introduction of the system-there is a beautiful exposition of it,
in which tile writer steers clear of the selfish system of Sandeman on the one hand, and the ultra-spirituality of some of the
American divines on the other.  The one does not sufficiently
distinguish between sedllove and selfishness; the other treats man
as if he were a being capable of merging all his personal feelings
and interests, in a vague and undefined idea of God, and of holiness.  The Scriptures never require us to lose sight of our personal interest in the divine favour; but they never urge it as the
principal or the only plea, that we should do the will of God.
They bring us, as is here well stated, under the influence of the
great principles which govern Deity himself; and thus combine
the perfect enjoyment of blessedness, with the perfect exercise
of benevolence.
AN ESSAY ON THE SELFISH SYSTEM.
WE are told of the Emperor Nero, among his other unnatural
actions, that no sooner was his appetite so satiated with one course
of gluttony, as to refuse more food, than he again fitted himself in a
most revolting manner, for renewing the round of sensual gratification. Of another individual we are told that such was his dread of
future disease and death, that he sat continually in one scale of a
balance, with a counterpoise in the other, and that it was his constant employment to watch the deflections of the beam, and most
studiously to preserve the equality of the balance, so that he never
took food till his own scale ascended, and stopped eating as soon as
the equilibrium was restored. As the motives which induced each
of these individuals to take food are evidently very different from
each other, so are the motives of both strikingly different from those




ESSAY  ON  SELFISHNESS.                       30T
which in this matter actuate the great mass of mankind. Of the
first individual we would say, that pleasure was his object, and that
he took food merely as a means of obtaining this pleasure.  With
regard to the second, again, we would say that it was self-love that
dictated his extraordinary conduct; that he took food, not like the
other, for the sake of gratifying his palate, but purely from a consideration of the posterior advantages which would thence accrue to
him. With the great mass of mankind, again we would say, that
hunger is the primary and ruling incitement; that they eat not in
general to gratify their palate, and far less from a consideration of
any posterior advantage; but chiefly for the purpose of satisfying
their appetite. Food is not used by them as the mere means of obtaining something else, it is itself the primary and terminating object
of their desire.
From these familiar illustrations, we think we may discover the
difference between self-love, and the more i special affections of our
nature. The chief distinction seems to be, that the latter terminate
in some external object, while the former uses that object as a means
of promoting some plan of future interest. Of all the characters we
have mentioned, only one seems to have been actuated by selflove, he who took food from a sense of the beneficial effects which
would follow. It may be thought, that Nero, too, was actuated by
selfishness, inasmuch as he used the food as a means of obtaining
something else; but on a close examination, we shall find that it
was not the love of self, but the love of pleasure, which was his
actuating motive; that if he had any regard to self-interest, his conduct would have been altogether different: that he was in fact pursuing a line of conduct in direct opposition to all that self-love would
dictate. We may here just remark by the way, the wisdom displayed in this constitution of our animal frame. Our Creator has not
left us to discover that without being invigorated by food, and refreshed by sleep, our bodies could not long subsist; and thus, from
a principle of self-love to attend to the taking of food and repose,
as duties which it was necessary to perform, in order to self-preservation: but He has endowed us with special affections; with a desire for food and sleep when the body requires them: just as he has
given us a sense of injury, and a feeling of resentment, to preserve
us from the injustice of our fellow men.




808                     APP  EN DIX.
Now in morals there are facts analogous to those which we have
just mentioned, with regard to our animal frame. As there is a desire for food altogether apart from any future consequences; and as
there is a more immediate pleasure, and a more remote advantage
which attend the satisfying of this desire,-so is there a motive to the
performance of a virtuous action, altogether for its own sake, and
apart from all its consequences; and there is also a more immediate pleasure, and a more remote happiness attending the performance of such an action. As it has appeared that there are different
motives which may induce us to take food, so are there different
motives which may urge us to the performance of a virtuous deed.
The abettors of the selfish system seem to have erred in confounding these together, or rather in making the one motive of selfishness
swallow up the rest.
It may be true that much of the seeming virtue of our world must
be put to the account of selfishness; and much of it, too, to the
account of sentimentalism; and yet, is it true, that virtue may be
followed for her own sake; that she has a native grace and attraction of her own, altogether independent of the pleasure and the happiness which follow in her train.
In the illustration which we took from our animal nature, we felt
it difficult to adduce a solitary instance where selfishness was the
actuating motive; and there one would think it impossible to confound, unless designedly, self-love, with the more special affections;
but in the moral world, alas, the case is different. Here are thousands who perform virtuous actions, altogether from selfish motives,
for one that follows virtue for her own sake. And when we find that
many seem virtuous in their outward conduct, who care not to swerve
from the path of rectitude, if they can but do it unobserved; that
the merchant who would shudder at the thought of forgery, or any
such gross and palpable crime, can yet in his every day transactions,
impose on those he deals with, and indulge in a thousand little and
unperceived deceits; and when we find that this is a true delineation of the moral character, not of one in a city, or even one in a
family, but of the great bulk of our species, - need we wonder that,
from such a view of human nature, some should have come to the
conclusion that all virtue is the result of selfishness, or rather that
there is no true virtue at all?




ESSAY  ON  SELFISItNESS.                      309
But all this is easily accounted for by the' fact, that a blight hath
corrupted the moral scenery of our world; and it just tallies with
what we are told in the book of revelation, of the total depravity of
our whole race.
If, then, there were a system which professed to be able to renew
our nature, and to restore us to our original purity, we should most
confidently expect that the disciples of such a system should follow
virtue, not from any selfish principle, but simply and solely for her
own sake. There is such a system, by which these expectations have
been fully realized, -even the system of evangelical Christianity.
We know that it has been asserted, that here, too, self-love is the
actuating motive; that the disciples of this system are influenced in
their conduct by the hope of reward, and the fear of punishment;
but if we rightly understand this system, the assertion is most false.
It is true that the evangelical system makes its first appeal to our
self-love, or otherwise it could not have been adapted to depraved and
selfish creatures; but it is equally true that the virtue to which it
leads, is of the most pure and disinterested nature. The way in
which this is accomplished, is, we think, well illustrated, in the case
of that young man who was couched for a cataract in the beginning
of the last century, and whose case so much interested the philosophers of Europe. To induce him to submit to the operation, his
friends told him of the loveliness of scenery, and of the pleasure to
be derived from gazing on beautiful objects. - Such reasoning had
no effect, -he could form  no conception of beauty; they were in
fact addressing a special affection which did not exist. An appeal
was made to his self-love, he was told of the advantages to be derived from reading, and this we are told, proved effectual. And
thus it is that the gospel addresses itself to man. It might tell him
of the loveliness of virtue, and the deformity of vice; and well do
we know that such reasoning would prove utterly powerless. True,
lie has a faculty for perceiving moral beauty, just as the blind man
has an eye; but as in his case, too, there is a thick film spread over
it. True, the most depraved of our race can distinguish virtue from
vice, and perceive a rightness in the one, and a wrongness in the
other, just as many blind people can tell the light from the darkness; but just as they cannot perceive that harmonious variety of
colour and shade which constitutes the loveliness of natural scenery,




810                     APPENDIX.
so cannot the unrenewed mind perceive that which is so emphatically termled the "beauty of holiness." The same appeal which proved
effectual in the case of him who was blind, is also effectual in the
case of fallen man, - an appeal to self-love. The Bible can tell him
of the future punishment of sin, and to the whispers of his own
conscience it can add the voice of its authority, in telling him that
he is a sinner: it can constrain him to cry out, " What shall I do to
be saved?" and to such a question it can give a most satisfactory
answer. If he is thus led to accept of its terms, he no sooner does
so, than the film which obscured his moral vision is removed. He
is now in some degree restored to the lost image of the Godhead,
and can therefore perceive an independent beauty in virtue, and an
independent deformity in vice. It is not now, we conceive, fiom
the hope of heaven, or the fear of hell, that he is virtuous; it is because he loves holiness that he follows after it; —it is because he
hates sin that he flees from it; his attachment to the one, and his
recoil from the other, will still continue to strengthen: and even now,
all weak and imperfect as they are, do they proceed from a principle
similar to that which determines the choice of Deity himself.
Little do they understand the evangelical system, who urge against
it the plea that the virtue of its disciples is a virtue of selfishness.
So far is this from being the case, that let but self-love be the principle that regulates our conduct, - let but the hope of reward, and
the fear of punishment be all that prompts us to virtue, and the
reward itself will never follow. Some there have been, who from
this principle have refrained from many of the vices, and even from
many of the innocent enjoyments of life,- who have been ingenious in inventing self-torments here, that they might escape eternal
punishment hereafter; but yet, is the character of such virtue, and
the final judgment which shall be passed upon it, most truly debed by the poet, when he exclaims,
"What is all righteousness that men devise?
What, - but a sordid bargain for the skies?
But Christ as soon would abdicate his own,
As stoop from heaven to sell the proud a throne."




REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS.   311
D.
THE DOCTRINE OF A GRADATION IN REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS; AND AN ATTEMPT TO APPLY IT TO THE SUBJECT OF
AMISSIONS.
IN all those descriptions of the final retribution which are given
us in the Bible, our attention is called to two great divisions of the
inhabitants of our world: namely, "Those who shall go away into
everlasting punishment; and those who shall go into life eternal."
But, though there be thus one grand classification of our whole
species, where the line of demarcation is very broad and very strongly
marked; yet in the same description, do we find an account given
of minuter sub-divisions, whose bounding lines are not so vivid, but
which imperceptibly shade into and blend with each other. And
we think ourselves fully warranted to suppose, that there will be
different degrees of glory on the one hand, and different degrees of
punishment on the other; and that these will be determined by the
privileges we have enjoyed on earth, and the degree to which those
privileges have been improved or neglected. He that had gained
ten pounds was made ruler over ten cities; he that gained five, over
five cities. And again, " That servant which knew his Lord's will,
and prepared not himself, neither did according to his will, shall be
beaten with many stripes; but he that knew not, and did commit
things worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with few stripes. For unto
whomsoever much is given, of him shall much be required; and to
whom men have committed much, of him they will ask the more."
But this doctrine of a gradation in rewards and punishments has
been thought, by some, inconsistent with the Scripture doctrine of
justification by faith; and inconsistent with the free and unmerited
nature of that reward which shall be given to those who are thus
justified. Were the glory promised a fair return for our well-doings,
there might then be some force in the objection; but when we consider, that, after we have done all that we are commanded, (and,
who is there that can boast of having done so?) we are still unprofitable servants; and when we consider that sin mingles with our




312                     APPENDIX.
best services, which cannot, therefore, be pleasing to that God who
cannot look upon iniquity but with abhorrence; we shall perceive,
that this view of the final retribution, far from  being at variance
with the grand and fundamental doctrine of the gospel, magnifies it
and does it honour; inasmuch as it is the imputed righteousness of
Christ, which imparts to our actions all in them that is pleasing, and
all that is acceptable to God.
The doctrine of the cross is represented in the Bible as the foundation, and the virtuous actions of believers as the superstructure
which is built upon it; the latter, deriving all their strength and all
their stability from  the former: standing upon it, and falling in
utter impotency to the ground as soon as it is removed. " For other
foundation," says Paul, "can no man lay than that is laid, which is
Jesus Christ. Now if any man build upon this foundation, gold,
silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble; every man's work shall
be made manifest, for the day shall declare it, because it shall be
revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man's work of what
sort it is. If any man's work abide, which he hath built thereupon,
he shall receive a reward. If any man's work shall be burned, he
shall suffer loss; but he himself shall be saved, yet so as by fire."
There seems, then, to he a connection between the degree of active
exertion here, and the degree of reward hereafter; and also a connection between the degree of suffering here, and the degree of glory
that shall follow.  " Ie which soweth sparingly," says Paul, "shall
reap also sparingly; and he which soweth bountifully shall reap
also bountifully." And the same apostle assures us, that " our light
affliction which is but for a moment, worketh out for us a far more
exceeding and eternal weight of glory."
Of the truth of these remarks, we have a very beautiful illustration in the mediatorial character of the Son of God. His was a life
of the most strenuous exertion; it was his meat, and his drink to do
the will of his Father. His, too, was a life of the most unparalleled
suffering. He was emphatically " a man of sorrows, and acquainted
with grief." And as he suffered more than any one of his followers,
as his visage was marred, more than any man, and his form more
than the sons of men, so shall his glory far exceed that of any of
those whom IIe condescends to call his brethren. It is the connection between his unwearied exertion and his reward; the connection




REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS.   313
between his sufferings, and his glory, that we especially advert to.
Paul tells us that it became him "by whom are all things, and fbr
whom are all things, to make the Captain of our salvation perfect
through suffering." And it is after giving an account of the humiliation of our Lord, that the apostle adds, "Therefore, (on which
account) God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name
which is above every name." But it may be thought that though
these remarks hold, in their fullest extent, with regard to Him who
was without sin, and who could demand, as his due, that reward
which was but a fair compensation fo)r his faultless accomplishment
of the work which was given him to do; yet that they are wholly
misapplied with regard to those whose very best services are polluted
and mingled with sin. It is true that we can make no demand,
that we have no plea to urge at the hands of justice, that our very
salvation from wrath is a matter of purest mercy, of free and unmerited favour. But yet it is true, that "God is not unrighteous to
forget our work and labour of love;" and we are assured that if we
suffer with Christ, we shall also reign with him.
We shall first, then, consider it as a privilege to be permitted to
labour in the cause of Christ; and we shall advert to one or two of
the ways in which we can share in his sufferings, and consequently
be made partakers of His glory. First, then, Jesus Christ was a
martyr.  IIe sealed his testimony with his blood. And hence the
promise, "' Be thou faithful unto death and I will give thee a crown
of life."  And hence the willingness, nay, the eagerness of the first
disciples to gain a martyr's crown. Yes, there was a time when
the followers of Him whom  Pilate crucified, were proud to show
their attachment to their Master, at the expense of life itself. But
those days of fiery trial are gone. And too much cause have we to
fear, that the spirit of martyrdom is gone along with them. That
spirit of fervent love to God, and of devoted attachment to each
other, which so distinguished the early Christians, as to draw forth
the applauses even of their enemies, is gone with the persecution
which was the cause of it; and there hath come in its room a spirit
of cold and heartless profession; a spirit of animosity and dissension among those of whom once it was said, "Behold, how these
Christians love one another."  The test of faithfulness unto death
you cannot now make. In our land at least, the voice of persecu27




314                    APPENDIX.
tion has long been silent. But though your faith cannot now be
thus tried in reality, did you never in imagination bring your Christianity to this test?  After having read of the unwavering constancy
of a Hamilton, or of the still more recent sufferings of a Wishart,
whose memory yet lives so palpably in all that is around us, did you
never ask your own hearts the question, "' Would I have acted thus?"
And in the glow of enthusiastic feeling, have you not thought with
the generous and warm-hearted, yet self-confident apostle, that you
were ready to follow your Master to prison, and to death? Like
Peter, you may indulge in the romantic thought of your attachment, and your constancy; without, like him, having your feelings
tried by the test of stern reality.
But, though the crown of martyrdom is now placed beyond our
reach, and in this particular we can no longer drink of the cup
which Jesus drank, nor be baptized with the baptism which he was
baptized with, is there no other way in which we can suffer with
Christ, and consequently reign with him? Is there no other feature
of the Saviour's character, whose resemblance we can yet trace upon
our own? There is such a feature, one of the most prominent in all
the mediatorial characters of the Son of God. Not only was he a
martyr, he was also a missionary. He came on a mission to our
world. I-Ie came to preach the gospel to the poor. He was sent to
heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and
recovering of sight to the blind, -to set at liberty them that were
bruised, — to preach the acceptable year of the Lord. It was for
this that he left the bosom of the Father. It was for this that he
emptied himself, and took upon him the form of a slave. It was for
this that he exchanged a throne of glory for a manger, and the
praises of sinless angels for the revilings of sinful men. And it is
in the same cause that the missionary now goes forth, leaving father
and mother, and houses and lands.
It has often struck us that those very objections which are now
urged against the preaching of the gospel to the heathen, might have
been brought with equal plausibility against the first preaching of
the gospel to our world. When you have heard the opposers of missions argue about the insufficiency of the means for the end in view,
and in support of this objection, proudly appeal to the fact that
little has yet been accomplished, did it never occur to you, that




REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS.  -315
such, in all probability, would be the reasonings of those who
opposed the ministry of our Lord and his disciples?
Just picture to yourself a few poor and illiterate men, with nothing
that was imposing in their outward appearance, sometimes without
a place where to lay their head, and sometimes eating of the ears of
corn, to satisfy their hunger. And when your imagination has filled
up this outline of apparent meanness and poverty; just think of the
mighty revolution which they professed was to be brought about by
their instrumentality, and you may conceive the sneers of philosophic
pride with which these professions would be contemplated. You
may well conceive what would be the feelings of the literati of the
day; how they would remember the vain attempts of a Socrates and
a Plato, and all the master spirits of antiquity, to reform the manners even of their own countrymen; and how they would laugh at
the pretensions of an illiterate tradesman, the son of a common
mechanic, who professed that the system which he taught should
one day be acknowledged by the whole world. So much for the
apparent insufficiency of the means for the end.
But mark, this was not all. Think again of the little success
which seemed to accompany his preaching, think of the few followers whom he had gathered round him, after spending thirty years
in the scene of his labours. And think of the inconstancy of these
few, when the day of persecution arrived. The followers of Socrates
stood by him, when he drank the fatal cup; but the disciples of Jesus
forsook him and fled. Think of his death as a common malefactor;
and then can you wonder, if even the most devoted of his followers,
thought all was over; and if, in the bitterness of their sorrow,
they confessed to the unknown inquirer that their hopes had died
with their Master, but that once they " trusted that this had been he
who should have redeemed Israel?"
But the opposers of missions tell us, that here the means, though
apparently inadequate, were not so in reality; that the men were
inspired by the Spirit of God. We immediately answer them, by
applying the very same argument to the operations of the present
day. The means, though seemingly inadequate, are not so in reality.
WVe mean not to say that missionaries are inspired; but we do mean
to say, that the Spirit of God accompanies their labours. Ile who
gave the command, "Go ye into all the world, and preach the gos



316                     APPENDIX.
pel to every creature:" gave also the promise, "And lo, I am with
you alway, even unto the end of the world."
But this has been a digression from our original design, though
we hope not a useless one. We go on to remark, that as there are
special promises for the martyr, so are there for the faithful missionary. And as there was a time when the disciples of Christ were eager
to wear the crown of martyrdom, so was there a time when the pretended soldiers of the cross were eager to gain the reward which is
promised to him who shall leave all for the sake of Christ.  There
was a time when the inhabitants of Europe rushed with one accord,
to fight in what they deemed, but falsely, the cause of the Saviour.
So great was the enthusiasm, that in that army there mingled men
of every rank, and of every condition; the high and the low. There
might be seen the crown of royalty, and the coronet of nobility, and
the crested plume of knighthood, towering above the humbler array
of the surrounding multitude; and there, too, might be seen the
peaceful banner of the cross, floating above those who were soon to
imbrue their hands in the blood of their fellow-men. That was an
age of zeal; but it was also an age of ignorance. The present is an
age of knowledge: would it were also an age of more fervent zeal.
The true soldiers of the cross are now going forth to fight; but they
wrestle not against flesh and blood. And they have buckled on their
armour, but it is not a material armour; and they have taken their
arms, but they are not carnal weapons.
But they fight against principalities and powers, against the rulers
of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high
places. And they have taken unto them the whole armour of God,
even the shield of faith, and the breastplate of righteousness, and
the preparation of the gospel of peace. And they are armed with
the sword of the Spirit, even the word of God, which is mighty
through God, to the pulling down of strong-holds. The faithful missionary is the true soldier of the cross. It is he that hath left father,
and mother, and houses, and lands, for Christ's sake and the gospel;
and to him is the promise of a hundred-fold in this life, and in the
world to come, life everlasting.
But as the labours and the sufferings of the missionary resemble
those of Christ, so shall his reward resemble that of our glorified
Head. For what is the reward of Christ?  Is it not the souls which




REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS.   817
he has ransomed? In the prophecy of Isaiah, God is represented as
thus making a covenant with his Son"If his soul shall make a propitiatory sacrifice,
He shall see a seed which shall prolong their days.
And the gracious purpose of Jehovah shall prosper in his hands.
Of the travail of his soul, he shall see (the fruit) and be satisfied.
By the knowledge of him shall my servant justify many;
For the punishment of their iniquities he shall bear.
Therefore will I distribute to him the many for his portion.
And the mighty people shall he share for his spoil."
LOWTH.
This was the joy that was set before him, for which he endured
the cross, despising the shame.
And what is the reward of the minister and the missionary? Is
it not the souls whom they have been the instruments of saving?
" For what," says Paul to the Thessalonians, "for what is our hope,
or joy, or crown of rejoicing? Are not even ye in the presence of
our Lord Jesus Christ at his coming?  For ye are our glory and
joy. Thus is it that if we attain unto the kingdom of heaven, the
souls which we may have been instrumental in saving here, will in
that day be as a crown of glory around us; and yet along with ourselves, form part of that brighter crown which shall beam around
the head of our glorified Redeemer: as in our solar system, the satellites revolve round their respective planets, and yet are with them
borne in their mightier orbits around that brighter luminary which
is the centre of the whole.
There is such a thing as being saved, yet so as by fire; such a
thing as being least in the kingdom of heaven: and even this is a
thought of highest ecstacy; but there is a thought more ecstatic still.
It is the thought of an abundant entrance, and an exceeding great
reward, and a crown of glory that fadeth not away, and a splendour
like the shining of the stars in the firmament. Yes, to emit the
faintest ray from that dazzling crown, which shall ever encircle the
head of the Saviour, is a thought far too glorious for human conception; but there is a thought more glorious still, - to blaze forth,
the central gem of one of those brilliant clusters, - to add to the
glory of the Redeemer's diadem, and yet have around us a coronet
of our own.
27*




318                    APPENDIX.
Hitherto we have considered it as a privilege to labour, and to suffer,
for the sake of Christ; we come now to consider it as a duty.
Hitherto our attention has been directed to the glorious reward of
those who shall avail themselves of their privileges; we come now
to consider the condemnation of those who shall neglect them.
We doubt not but there are some who would give a willing assent
to all that we have advanced; but who, notwithstanding, would not
be actuated by these remarks, to a single deed of Christian philanthropy. They think that it may be all very true, that a crown of
glory is reserved for the martyr and the missionary; and that a distinguished place in the kingdom of heaven will be given to those who
have been unwearied in their zeal, and patient in their suffering, faor
Christ's sake and the gospel's; but for their part, they have no such
ambitious views, they are well content if they can but get to heaven
at all; they like to steal quietly along with heaven in view, and not
to make too much ado about religion. They think it right, indeed,
to be religious; but they like not those who are religious over much.
They do well in saying that they disapprove of ambition; we know not
that even with regard to heavenly things, this desire of greatness is
ever in any shape countenanced in the New Testament. But it is
not the reward itself which these individuals dislike, it is the suffering, and the self-denial which lead to it. And too often is such reasoning employed as an excuse for treating with the most listless
neglect, all that has a reference to the extension of the kingdom of
our Lord.
But there is one circumstance which has always struck us most
forcibly in reading those allegorical representations of the final
retribution which are contained in the Bible - a circumstance which
tells most fearfully against that class of individuals to which we
have alluded. And it is, that while a greater or a less reward follows the improvement of our talents, the simple neglect of these,
subjects us to a greater condemnation than if we had never enjoyed
them. While those servants who had gained by the talents bestowed
upon them, received each a suitable reward, that servant who had
gained nothing, not only received no reward, but was ordered to be
cast into outer darkness, where shall be weeping and gnashing of
teeth. And in that sublime description of our Lord's, where the
final judgment is brought so vividly before us, the condemned are




REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS.   319
not accused of positive crime, but of conduct altogether of a negative nature. And when the Judge pronounces the fearful sentence,
"Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire;" he does not add
as the cause of their condemnation, " Because ye imprisoned me."
It is "because I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat. I was
thirsty, and ye gave me no drink. I was a stranger, and ye took
me not in; naked, and ye clothed me not; sick and in prison,
and ye visited me not.'  Not only then should we consider as a
matter of high and distinguished privilege, that we have been endowed with talents, but also as a thing of deep and fearful responsibility.
There are various talents which have been entrusted to our keeping. Some of us may have received more, and others less; but we
shrall have all to render an account according to that we have, and
not according to that which we have not. There is one talent which
we have all of us received, and that, too, a talent of no common
value; even that Book which maketh wise unto salvation. This
wisdom is within the reach of every one of us; and this wisdom it
is our duty to send to those who have it not. Or it may be, that, in
that day there may be some who have been less highly favoured than
ourselves; but who have more diligently availed themselves of the
privileges they enjoyed; who shall bring against us the accusation;' We were hungering and thirsting after righteousness; and ye supplied not our wants."
It is in vain for any one of us to say, that we can do nothing in
the cause of evangelizing the heathen. We may be able to give but
little to support the external mechanism; but there is something
more required in this mighty work than the mere outward apparatus: even that quickening principle, which of old breathed life into
the dry bones of the prophet's vision; and which even now, is exerted in bidding those live " who are dead in trespasses and sin."
The Holy Ghost is the gift of prayer. It may be, that we can give
but little to the support of the outward means; but we can all pray
for that life-giving principle, without which, these means will be
employed in vain. It may be, that we cannot ourselves go forth to
reap; but we can, at least, " pray the Lord of the harvest to send
forth labourers into his harvest."  But there are some of us who
can do more; to whom there has been entrusted the talent of this




320                     APPENDIX.
world's wealth. This is an element, my friends, which is absolutely
necessary to the carrying on of the cause of Christ on earth. It is
a talent which we have received from God; and yet how little of it
is employed in his service. Can it be, that so many millions are
annually embarkedwin the uncertain speculations of this world's
merchandise; and that a few thousands are all that are employed
in the service of Him who is the rightful owner of all that we possess? Can it be, that so many are willing to lend on the treacherous security of this world's contracts; and that there are found so
few who are willing to lend on the security of His word who cannot lie, and who hath promised a hundred-fold in this life, and in
the world to come life everlasting?
But there are some of us who have received talents of a higher
order still; talents which might enable us to engage personally in
the work of missions; even those mental endowments, which, with
the teaching of the Holy Spirit, might qualify us for preaching to
the heathen, the unsearchable riches of Christ.
It is altogether vain to assert, as some do, that great mental powers
cannot be profitably employed in preaching to the heathen. It is
true, there may be some exceptions; but in the general, we know no
office in the church of God where the very highest mental attainments can be more beneficially employed, than in the office, all despised as it is, of the Christian missionary.
Mental endowments are gifts, which more than any other, perhaps, have been alienated from the service of Him that gave them.
And it will not be the greatest condemnation of by far the greater
part of those who have received them, -that they have wrapt them
in a napkin or buried them in the ground. Not only have they been
withdrawn from the service of God; but far too frequently have they
been employed in the service of his enemies.
This is the kind of assistance which is most wanted at present in
the missionary cause. It is not work that is wanting; it is not
wealth to carry on the work; it is labourers.
It was not the hope of rendering any considerable pecuniary
assistance to missions which induced some of our number to attempt
the formation of this society; it was the desire of cultivaing a missionary spirit among ourselves.  We remembered, that from  the
Halls of Cambridge, there had gone forth the zealous and devoted




REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS.   821
IMartyn; and that a sister University had sent forth a Brown and a
Buchanan; and we were not without the hope, that even from this
remote and hitherto lukewarm corner of our land, there might be
found some to imitate their honourable, though despised, example.
This may serve to explain to you why we have already laid out
so great a portion of our funds in procuring the lives and the writings of some of the most distinguished of our missionaries. And
we are sure, that there are few who can peruse the diary of a
Brainerd, or a Martyn, without being animated with something of
that devoted spirit which animated these illustrious servants of our
God.
But we fear, lest it may be thought by some, that these remarks
savour too much of selfishness; that we have held up as an incitement to exertion, the hope of glory, and the fear of condemnation.
Well do we know, that if the love of Christ constrain us not to
live not unto ourselves, but to him that died for us, then all other
inducements will be utterly powerless. But in this age of antinomian delusion, when religion has, among one class of our community, been transformed into a thing of definitions and cold speculation; and, when, among another, it has dwindled into a thing of
mere feeling and poetic sentiment; we deem it right to bring forward those passages of the Bible which bear most directly upon our
conduct.
For how often in these days of cold and heartless profession, do
we meet with those who have the most perfect knowledge of all that
is orthodox, and all that is Calvinistic; who can argue most ingeniously about all the dark and doubtful points of theology; whose
heads have been stuffed with the dogmas and the disputations of a
speculative divinity; but whose hearts have never been reached by
the melting declarations of the gospel.
These are willing to talk and debate about religion; and they are
willing, perhaps, to speculate about the possibility or impossibility
of their salvation to whom the glad tidings of the gospel never came.
But if, on the ground of the uncertainty of the question, you urge
home upon them, the duty of sending instruction to the heathen;
and if you but mention Bible or Missionary Societies, immediately
are they ready to silence your every argument by their usual cant
charges of fanaticism and enthusiasm.




322                    APPE N? D IX.
How often, on the other hand, do we meet with those whose religion
is not indeed so cold, but altogether as lifeless; with those who are
loud in the praise of benevolence, and who are ever saying to the
poor, Be ye warmed, and be ye fed; whose tenderest emotions are
excited by the recital of some tale of imaginary woe; but who would
think the lofty dreams of their sentimentalism  degraded by being
brought in contact with what they reckon the grossness of real life.
And how lamentable is it to think, that, in this class of individuals,
we can sometimes meet with those who can talk, and who can write,
the most pathetically about the misery and the degradation of the
heathen; and who can yet demonstrate by their own deeds, that the
religion of the Bible has even less influence upon themselves than
the mock morality of the Koran on the followers of Mahomet, or the
fables of the Shaster on the deluded votary of Brahma.
This admirable essay, with another, which will afterwards come
in, illustrates more powerfully than any description of mine, the
character and talents of the writer.  His knowledge of the Scriptures, and the ease with which he reasons upon them, are extraordinary in a boy of his years. Human teaching could not have
produced such excellence as is here displayed. The subject is a
difficult, and, in some respects, an original one; yet he discusses
it like a person familiar with it, and who had devoted to it, the
leisure and the application of years.
It affords the most decisive proof that his zeal was not the sudden excitement of passion, or that temporary and often violent
heat, which is put forth by a young convert: which is sometimes
in the reverse ratio of the light which is possessed; and, therefore, as ephemeral in its duration as it is unproductive of solid
benefit to the individual himself and to others.  It is good to be
zealously affected in a good thing.  But it is always desirable that
zeal should be according to knowledge; and that the flame should
be clear as well as ardent. Such was the case of my young
friend.  His warmth arose from those doctrines which he so well
understood, and the influence of which must ever be powerful on
those who really believe them.  The love of Christ to himself,




REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS.   323
brought along with it, the most devoted gratitude in return. And
perceiving that the manifestations of Christ's love, in devoting
himself for the salvation of the world, are recorded, not only to
be the foundation of our faith towards God, but to be the example
and the excitement of the same principle in us, he felt called
upon to give his talents and his life to the same cause.  Is this
fanaticism? Then was it fanaticism which led the Son of God
to give his life a ransom for many. It was fanaticism which sent
the apostles round the world on a mission of benevolence. It was
fanaticism which influenced the confessors and martyrs of primitive times to sacrifice all things for their Master's sake, and "for
the elect's sake, that they might obtain the salvation which is in
Christ Jesus with eternal glory."
It is far easier on Christian principles to defend the utmost
degree of self-devotion in the work of disseminating the gospel,
than it is to defend the sincerity of men who call themselves
Christians, and yet remain cold, selfish, and worldly. For the
highest ardour-for what may be even called the extravagance
of zeal, it is easy to find not only an apology, but a justification
in the principles and hopes of the gospel.  But it is passing
strange, that men should conceive themselves to be Christians,
while they " live to themselves," and are equally regardless of
what is due to consistency, to the honour of Christ, and to the
claims of a perishing world.  It is not necessary that every
Christian should become a missionary to the heathen, but it is
necessary that every Christian should consider himself the Lord's,
and that he is as much bound to propagate the faith of Christ, as
were the primitive believers. No obligation lay on them which does
not devolve on us; and it is only in as far as we adopt their
maxims and imbibe their spirit, that we can expect at last to share
their reward.
There is reason to fear that the New Testament doctrine of
future rewards and punishments is very imperfectly understood
by mlany Christians.  They use the terms, heaven, eternal life,




324                    A P PENDIX.
the crown of glory, and other corresponding expressions, in a
vague and indefinite manner.  Their hopes and expectations seem
to be exceedingly low, and to produce a proportionately feeble
influence on their minds and conduct.  Christianity is not sufficiently their life; and, hence, they find it necessary to repair too
much to other sources of enjoyment.
With them, the escape from future punishment, and the possession of heaven, considered as a state of entire freedom from
suffering, is the ne plus ultra of hope. The idea of a scale of
reward scarcely enters into their mind, much less that this scale
will be regulated by the degree in which the character is in this
world conformed to that of Christ.  Hence the satisfaction with
themselves which is felt even when much that, is evil exists.
Hence the indifference to eminent degrees of labour, self-denial,
and holiness, which so generally prevails. And, hence the little
attention which is paid to some of the most interesting views of
future glory which the Scriptures present.
The doctrine of grace is thus unconsciously perverted by many.
They seem to think that doctrine not only at variance with human
merit, but with degrees of glory proportioned to the degrees of
Christian excellence.  They regard the arrangements of eternity
as so arbitrary that they have little or no connection with the
transactions of time.  They imagine that the thief on the cross
will not only be saved, but may shine with as bright a lustre as
the apostle of the Gentiles.  Is not this forgetting that the forgiveness of the kingdom of heaven is a very different thing from
the rewards of that kingdom? The former having a reference to
the evil which is common to all, necessarily places all in the same
state; the latter having respect to what is good, or to positive
conformity to the will of God, must be proportioned to the degree
in which it exists.
In this constitution there is not only a recognition of the principle of grace, but a very high display of it. To the merit of the
atonement, and to the influences- of the Divine Spirit, we are in



REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS.   825
debted for all our positive goodness, and for the acceptance
of all our services.  To his own gift, therefore, we are previously indebted for all our hopes of distinction in his heavenly kingdom, and to encourage the highest possible cultivation
of the benefits which he bestows, and of the opportunities of usefulness which he presents, he graciously engages to reward every
attempt to glorify his name.  The idea of merit is for ever excluded by the infinite disproportion which obtains between the
service and the reward.  We are so treated as to be left through
eternity with a perpetually increasing and accumulating debt, to
the infinite grace and love of God.
It is impossible to entertain this idea of future glory, without
experiencing its elevating and stimulating effects. It is not necessary to restrict it to missionary labours; nor was this the object
of the writer, in this admirable essay.  It applies to all the
branches of Christianity; and to all the engagements of Christian
enterprise. In whatever way an individual may most fully live
to the Lord, most entirely exercise the self-denial which the gospel inculcates, and most clearly evince the hallowed nature of his
principles, he may receive the promised boon. Urquhart believed
that a missionary life was the course in which he might most
satisfactorily and honourably discharge his obligations to the
Saviour, and deserve his approbation. Believing this, he devoted
himself to it, and only parted with his determination thus to
glorify his Redeemer, with life itself. With him these views
were not a beautiful speculation, but living and efficient principles.  They influenced his studies, his dispositions, his pursuits.
They raised him above the low ambition, and the petty warfare
of the earth.  They fixed his hopes on the enjoyments of a purer
region; and stimulated his exertions by the prospect of a crown
of incorruptible glory.
28




326                   APPENDIX.
E.
ESSAY ON THE DISTINCTION BETWEEN PRODUCTIVE AND Ui!PRODUCTIVE LABOUR.
THAT there is some distinction between what Dr. Smith calls productive, and what he terms unproductive labour, we think every one
must allow; and that it consists in this, that the former produces
something which the latter does not produce, it must, we think, be
as readily admitted. The question comes to be, " What is the something?" If all that Dr. Smith means by this distinction be, that
the one produces something which is tangible, while the produce of
the other is something too ethereal and too evanescent to be laid
hold of, we perfectly agree with him. We think his distinction a
very just, but at the same time a very useless one; and, in our
opinion, he might as well have amused us by a further subdivision
of labour, according as its produce was hard or soft, liquid or solid.
But this is not Dr. Smith's meaning; and, on appealing to his definition we find, that he founds this distinction on the supposition,
that "the one sort of labour adds to the value of the subject on
which it is bestowed; and that the other has no such effect; that
the one produces a value, the other does not." The distinction seems
now to turn on the meaning of the word value; and, on referring to
a former definition to explain the present one, we do not find much
light thrown on the subject. We are merely told of a value in use,
and a value in exchange. If we take the latter of these and apply
it to the subject under consideration, we shall find that the one kind
of labour produces a value just as much as the other; for the musician receives his subsistence in return for his labour in playing
tunes; just as much as the tailor does, in return for his labour, in
making clothes. But it may be said, that Dr. Smith terms a certain
kind of labour unproductive because it produces no value in use.
But this cannot have been the cause of the distinction; for, while
on the one hand this objection does not apply to all the kinds of
labour which he has termed unproductive, it, on the other hand,
does apply to some of those which he has denominated productive.




ESSAY ON LABOUR.                        327
The terms wealth and value seem to us to be very indefinite; and
to depend very much on the circumstances and the taste of the individual in reference to whom they are mentioned. The clothing
which is so valuable to the inhabitant of Europe, would add nothing
to the comfort of the naked inhabitant of New Zealand, and would
consequently be of little value to him. And the antique vase which
would be so highly valued by the curious antiquarian, may be
thoughtlessly destroyed by the less refined peasant who digs it up.
Thirty or forty years ago, a stock of shoe-buckles would have
been an addition to the real wealth of this country; at present, they
would be valuable only for the material which composes them; and
those who should now be employed in working them up, instead of
adding, would, in fact, detract from the value of the subject on which
their labour was bestowed. We have therefore the definition of value
or wealth confined between two limits, and we shall come to a sufficiently correct, if not a sufficiently comprehensive notion of what
that is which constitutes wealth or value, if we can but discover
what that is which existed in these shoe-buckles thirty or forty years
ago, and which does not exist at present. They are as substantially
material now as they were before. Were they manufactured, there
would be as much labour wrought up in them as ever, and the only
change that we know of, that has taken place with regard to them
is, that they were in fashion then, and they are so no longer; they
cannot now minister to the enjoyment of the community. So that
we must conclude, that these commodities, or any other commodities whatever, which are the produce of labour, form a part of the
wealth of a country, just because they minister, in some way or other,
to the convenience or enjoyment of its inhabitants; and because,
since they are the produce of the labour of man, they must have an
exchangeable value, if there be any demand for them.
Now it seems to us remarkably unfair, that of two men, whose
labour has precisely the same effect on the wealth of the society,
the one should be denominated a productive, and the other an unproductive labourer, merely because the labour of the former is
realized in some' material commodity, while that of the latt3r is not;
that, of two men, for example, the object of both of whom it is
to minister to the enjoyment of society, by furnishing them with
music, he who makes a musical instrument should be called a pro



828                    APPENDIX.
ductive labourer, while he who performs upon that instrument, and
but for whom it could have no value whatever, is stigmatized with
the epithet of unproductive.
By Dr. Smith it is asserted, that the former of these individuals
produces a value, while the other does not. Now, if in this respect
there be any difference at all between them, it seems to us to be,
that the one needs materials to work upon, while the other does not;
that the one merely adds to the value of what was valuable before,
while the other creates a value altogether; that the maker of the
instrument merely increases by his labour the value of brass and
wood, and other exchangeable commodities, while the performer on
the instrument gives a value to the unbought air of Heaven; and on
this account, were we to make any distinction, should we deem the
labour of the latter to be much more productive than that of the
former.
But it may be said that this is a mere cavilling about words. It
must be remembered, however, that words are the symbols of ideas,
and that the sign necessarily affects the thing signified. The very
distinction against which we have been arguing, seems to have confused the views of our great author through the whole of his chapter
on labour. After having once associated, with a certain kind of
labour, the idea of unproductiveness, he seems ever after to have
contemplated it with an evil eye, and to have loaded it with the burden not only of its own faults, but also of those which did not belong to it.
Through the whole chapter there seems to run a confused notion
of a subsisting connection between expenditure and the support of
unproductive labour, and a connection, on the other hand, between
the employment of productive labour and the accumulation of stock.
And thus it is that Dr. Smith attributes to the supporting of unproductive labour all those evils which are the result of prodigality and
extravaga nce.
It is some indistinct idea of a connection between the employment
of productive labourers and the accumulation of capital which Dr.
Smith entertains, where he tells us, that "a man grows rich by employing a multitude of manufacturers, while every body knows that
a man may waste his whole fortune in the purchase of manufactured




ESSAY ON LABOUR.                        329
commodities; and thus, far from growing rich, may ruin himself,just by employing a multitude of manufacturers."
The same confused ideas seem to have clouded our author's understanding, when he wrote the following sentences:"Whatever part of his stock a man employs as a capital, he
always expects it to be replaced to him with profit. He employs it,
therefore, in maintaining productive hands only. Whenever he employs any part of it in maintaining unproductive hands of any kind,
that part is from that moment withdrawn from his capital, and
placed in his stock received for immediate consumption."
If a person worth 10001. can employ it in two ways, he can either
on the one hand, employ it as a capital, either directly, or through
the medium of the bank; or, on the other hand, he can use it as a
stock reserved for immediate consumption. In either of these ways
I can employ it in supporting indifferently either productive or unproductive hands; and it does not appear that my success or my
failure will be at all necessarily influenced by this circumstance. If
I use it as a capital I may choose to embark it in some manufacturing or mercantile speculation, and thus employ productive labourers;
or I may become the manager of a theatre, and thus take into my
service a number of unproductive hands. And this last scheme
may be just as profitable, or even more so than the other.
On the other hand, I may use the whole of my fortune, or too
great a part of it, as a stock reserved for immediate consumption;
and, if I do so, I shall most certainly go to ruin, whether I spend it
mn the employment of productive or unproductive hands. In such a
case it will not be the direction, but the amount of my expenditure,
that will bring me to beggary.
But it may go far to demonstrate the absurdity of upholding the
distinction between productive and unproductive labour, if we can
show that one of those whom Dr. Smith most unequivocally sets
down among his unproductive labourers, can be transferred without
any change in his occupation from the service of the spendthrift to
that of the capitalist; for we shall thus prove, first, that he has become a productive labourer. as Dr. Smith tells us, that "that part
of the annual produce of the land and labour of any country which
replaces a capital, never is immediately employed to maintain any
28 *




830                     APPENDIX.
but productive hands." It pays the wages, he says, of productive
labour only.
Now, lest us suppose that a musical amateur has so impoverished
himself by maintaining a full band of performers for his own entertainment, that he finds himself almost ruined by his extravagance;
but that rather than give up this his favourite amusement, he resolves, with the wreck of his fortune, to set up an opera, and offers
to retain in his professional capacity still, those performers who had
hitherto ministered to his private enjoyment. And, we may suppose, still further that they accept of his terms, and that matters go
on so well, that he recruits his fortune by the profits of this speculation. There does not seem any thing very improbable in all this,
the difficulty is to reconcile it with Dr. Smith's chapter.
These men are now supported by capital, and therefore are productive labourers; but they are musicians, and therefore are unproductive labourers. Again; they ruined their employer, and therefore a man may grow poor by employing unproductive labourers,
but they have also again enriched their employer; and therefore a
man may accumulate capital by employing unproductive labourers.
There does not seem then to be any real distinction between productive and unproductive labour; and even supposing that there is,
there seems to be no good reason for Dr. Smith's idea of a necessary
connection between the employment of unproductive labour and
expenditure, or between that of productive labour and the accumulation of stock.
Dr. Smith seems to have gone on with the popular idea, that
wealth consists only in material commodities, without much consideration; and the wonder is, not that in one or two instances his
acute understanding has been misled, but that in by far the greater
number he has so successfully succeeded in clearing away the mists
of popular prejudice and error.
Even with regard to the definition of wealth, it seems to have been
our author's own opinion, had he kept by it, that it was not confined
to material objects. IHlad Dr. Smith but remembered his own aphorism, that "every man is rich or poor according to the degree in
which he can afford to enjoy the necessaries, conveniences, and
amusements of life;" and had he, by his usual train of reasoning,




WRITTEN  LANGUAGE.                        331
generalized this proposition, by applying to the whole community
what may be said of every one of its members, we should in all probability never have heard of productive or unproductive labour.
F.
ON WRITTEN LANGUAGE.
THE acknowledged priority of spoken to written language, appears
to us a very decisive argument for the divine origin of the latter.
Among those who hold that language is a mere human invention,
there have been two opinions, some maintaining that substantives,
or the names of external objects would be the words first invented,
and others holding that verbs or words expressive of the mutual
relations of objects, must have existed anterior to these, as an individual would not think of naming an object, until he had been in
some way or other affected by its properties. On either of these
hypotheses, it seems to us very obvious, that it would occur much
more readily to the mind of a savage to represent his ideas by forms
than by sounds. If he wished to particularize any object that was
near, he would point to it; and if he wished to express the relation
between any two objects, he would, in all probability, point first to
the one, and then to the other; or, if' the objects were movable, he
might express the same idea by bringing them into actual contact.
Were these objects removed from his view, so that he could no
longer express his idea by pointing to them, the most natural resource that could occur to him, would be to produce, if possible, a
resemblance to the objects, and now to point to these, as he had
formerly done to the objects themselves.
As there are comparatively few objects that utter sound; and as
the sounds cannot be distinctly imitated by human voice; and, as on
the other hand, all external objects have a form which can in general be easily represented, it would probably occur to him, that to
delineate the absent objects would be the best method of representing them. If he wished to express some relation existing between




832                    APPENDIX.
two objects, he would express the idea as before, by representing
the symbols of two objects in a state of contact.
Thus, had man been the inventor of language, we should have expected that at first men would have expressed their ideas by written
symbols accompanied by gestures, and now and then perhaps by the
utterance of such articulate sounds, as evidently resembled the idea
they intended to express. But quite the reverse of this is admitted
by those who maintain that language is of human origin, and while
they do not deny that a slight degree of civilization is necessary before men begin to express their ideas by symbols, which bear some
resemblance to the objects they are intended to represent, these
philologists are guilty of very gross inconsistency in attributing to
the most barbarous savages, a discovery of a much higher order,
even the discovery of spoken language, where ideas are represented
by sounds almost entirely arbitrary.
On this subject, as on most others, men of different parties seem
to have run into opposite extremes. Some of the advocates of revelation, thinking they perceived it clearly declared there, that language is of divine origin, jealous of the least infringement on the
authority of the sacred volume, have attempted to prove the unqualified proposition, that language is the gift of God. A hold has
thus been given to their opponents, as it is evident from the very
nature of the expressions, that many, if not most of the words in
every language have been invented by man. The mere philologist
again, in attempting to philosophize on language as a mere human
invention, has landed himself in the absurdity of attributing the
sublime discovery of the power of speech, to an age confessedly too
barbarous to make the much more simple discovery of symbolical
language. Revelation and sound philosophy in this case, as in all
others, are at one. Language was originally the gift of God, and no
doubt, for a considerable time, the same language. It may have
been a language of the simplest kind, and in all probability was so.
And yet, although there had been no multiplying of the languages
of the earth, and the passage of Scripture in reference to this bears
another signification which has been sometimes assigned to it, that
" God confounded their works;" still we say, from this one original
tongue, there may easily have emerged all the languages on the face
of our earth. When we consider the great changes that have taken




WRITTEN LANGUAGE,                         333
place in modern languages in a comparatively short time, how easy
would it be for a language to be entirely changed, when there was
almost no communication between different countries?
On the supposition that language is of human origin, we should
be inclined to favour the former of these hypotheses, although we
confess, from the very able treatise on this subject which was delivered a few weeks ago from our Humanity Chair, we had almost
been led to give the preference to the latter. Place a number of
children in a room by themselves, say the advocates of the first
hypothesis, and the first thing they would set about, would be, to
give names to the objects around them. This, however, say those
who hold by the other supposition, suppose that the children have
been previously acquainted with language.  Were it otherwise, no
child would give a name to an object, until it had, in some way or
other, affected his own person, and then he would name the object
from its felt effects. Thus, it is said, he would call fire the burner,
water the cooler, &e.
There is a difficulty, however, connected with this hypothesis, notwithstanding its plausibility, which would lead us, were we at all
inclined to think language a human invention, to give the preference
to the other. Before the child could make his companions understand what was meant by the name burner, he must have first comniunicated to them the meaning of the verb to burn.
In the discussions of Political Economy, the subject of ecclesiastical establishments necessarily finds a place.  Dr. Chalmers
naturally and properly discusses them in his prelections.  Though
unacquainted with the arguments employed in his lectures to his
class, those who have read his volumes on " Christian and Civic
Economy," cannot be altogether ignorant of his views.  Those
volumes I have read with some attention, and greatly admire the
ingenious and often conclusive reasonings of their eloquent and
candid author on many of the points which he discusses.  But I
do not hesitate to say, that on his own principles as a political
economist, he begs the question in regard to civil establishments
of religion; he assumes what he ought first to have proved, and




834                    APPENDIX.
reasons on premises not sufficiently established.  And, if certain
data laid down by himself be incontrovertible, the defence of such
institutions is, in my opinion, rendered impracticable.  If bounties and drawbacks are invaribly injurious to commerce; if chartered companies and monopolies are destructive to the natural
operations of enterprise and labour: if fair trade, and fair corpetition, ought to be allowed and encouraged in regard to all other
things, I do not perceive how religion should be excluded from
the same benefit.   With the religious question I have here
nothing to do; that rests on different principles, and must be
met on different grounds.  But I am not the only person who
wishes most ardently that Dr. Chalmers would fairly meet the
subject on its true merits as a question of Political Economy.
He will forgive me for saying, in this public manner, what I know
to be the opinion of many of his own pupils, as well as of others,
that he is called upon to do so: for, if his politico-economical
principles should be once firmly fixed in this country, they would do
more to lessen and destroy the faith of the country in the necessity and beneficial tendency of church establishments, than any
other thing.
I am led to make these observations, by finding among the
papers of my young friend, a fragment on this subject, which
refers to the views and reasonings of Dr. Chalmers, and which
shows, while it shows no more, that they had not produced conviction on his mind.  The truly catholic spirit of the writer is
strongly marked; and I can only regret that the paper was left
unfinished.
ON RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS.
IN the history of nations, we often find that those states which
had been united in the closest alliance by the approach of some
common enemy, have no sooner succeeded in their efforts to repel
him, than there have again burst forth between them those ancient
feuds and dissensions which the common danger had. for a while




R ELIGIOUS ESTABLISIHMENTS.                       335
extinguished. And such too has been the case among different sects
of Christians. The doctrines of Christianity are of such a nature,
that in order to experience their efficacy we must judge of them for
ourselves.  They cannot, like algebra and political economy, be
transmitted unaltered from one mind to another. All those who
give sufficient attention to a mathematical problem, however varied
may be the conformation of their minds, will come exactly to the
same conclusion.  Such truths are not affected by the peculiar conformation of the mind through which they pass. But it is quite the
reverse with the truths of Christianity. And, accordingly, though
we may find many whose philosophical or political creed agrees in
every iota, yet we know not if there can be found any two Christians
whose theological views entirely coincide. Were every one to resolve
to hold communion with none but those whose theological creed in
every point coincided with his own, there would in all likelihood, be
in the Christian Church, nearly as many sects as there are members.
They are only the externals of Christianity, however, about which
Christians are divided; concerning those grand doctrines which distinguish it from every other religion, they are perfectly agreed. In
times of persecution, accordingly, we find, that their petty differences are forgotten, and they rally with one accord to defend the
bulwarks of their common faith. And no sooner was our land
favoured with the inestimable blessing of religious toleration, than
religionists began to be divided into different sects or parties. This
of itself, however distressing it may appear at first sight, we consider as a matter of rejoicing, rather than regret.
There seems to be a final cause in even this imperfection of our
Christian knowledge.  There is a generous emulation thus maintained in the walks of Christianity, and a greater provoking of one
another to good works, than if all were perfectly agreed. But there
is a spirit of sectarianism, which, in this state of things, is too apt
to break forth among all parties, - a desire to magnify those matters
about which Christians differ, and thereby to forget those sublimer
truths concerning which they are agreed.
It must be matter of regret to every one of a really catholic spirit,
and who has the interests of genuine religion seriously at heart, that
so much has been said, and so much has been written about the
merest trifles in the externals of Christianity, while those who have




836                    APPENDIX.
been keenest in the controversy have frequently been forgetful of
those grander truths, which imparted to the matters about which
they were contending, all their weight and all their importance. Insignificant and unimportant, however, as we believe these matters
to be, when compared with the vital doctrines of Christianity; yet,
viewed abstractly, or, in comparison of earthly things, we deem
them of the highest and most serious import. While it seems most
imperiously our duty to attend to the spiritual things of religion, it
seems equally our duty not to neglect those external regulations
which are intended to preserve the purity and spirituality of our
faith.
Of all those inferior points about which Christians disagree, the
question of religious establishments is perhaps the most important.
We confess that, from our education, all our prejudices have been
against church establishments; and it is, perhaps, on this account
that that powerful argumentation, which has appeared so luminous
and so satisfactory to others, has failed to produce upon our mind
the same effect. It has very much enlightened, but it has not convinced us. We waive, at present, the consideration of any religious
establishments that have ever existed, or of our national establishments as they exist at present.
ON THE LOVE OF FAME.
"And seekest thou great things for thyself?" &c.
JEREMIAi.
I HAVE often thought it peculiarly interesting to compare that
morality which is to be found in the systems of ancient philosophy,
with the morality which is contained in the Bible; to see the heart
of man still reflecting, though dimly and imperfectly, that image
which was stamped upon it at first; to observe the harmonious accordance which obtains between the law that is written in the heart,
and the law which has been revealed to us by the Spirit of God, and
thus to identify that God who hath formed the heart of man, with




LOVE OF FAME.                           337
that God, who, in times past, spake unto the fathers by the prophets;
and who hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son.
Some of these theories of the ancients are so beautiful, and so
perfect, that we are apt to feel disappointed that their practical influence was not extensively and powerfully felt. But we shall not
wonder at this, if we consider how difficult it is to arrest the attention by abstract truths; and how little of practical efficacy there is
in such truths, even when most fully apprehended. To cultivate
any feeling, we must not look to the feeling itself, but to the object
which naturally excites it. And in this point of view we may behold the vast superiority of the Christian religion, to every other,
as a system of practical morality.
Here the abstract principles of natural religion are embodied in
facts: and all that we have to do is to direct the attention to these
facts, and the proper state of feeling is the invariable and immediate
result.
But not only are the symptoms of the ancient philosophers deficient in practical efficacy; they are even imperfect as theories of
morality.  Pure and elevated as they appear, when viewed abstractly and in themselves, they cannot stand a comparison with that
purer system which has been given us by revelation.
To most of the precepts which are given us in the Bible, we can
find some counterpart in the writings of heathen philosophers; but
there is one virtue which we hesitate not to say, is more frequently
inculcated in the Bible, than any other, for a counterpart to which
you may search the whole writings of ancient philosophy, and find
nothing that bears to it the most distant resemblance. Never did
there come from the pen of a heathen, sentiments like those contained in our motto: " Seekest thou great things for thyself? Seek
them not." It is a very striking fact, that, in the language of Greece
and Rome, there is not a word to express humility as a virtue: those
words which are generally used signify rather meanness, and that
crouching to power, which is the feeling not of a humble, but of a
dastardly spirit. On the other hand, pride and haughtiness were
considered as the concomitants of prowess and bravery; and hence
the heroes of ancient poetry are generally furnished with an abundant portion of both.
Yes, that vice which we inherit from the author of our misery,
29




338                    APPENDIX.
lurks too successfully in the recesses of the human bosom, to be discovered by the light of reason alone; it requires a more searching
scrutiny to drag it from that place, while it has taken up its abode
in the inmost penetralia of our souls. In the present depraved state
of the human heart, it is difficult to distinguish between those desires and propensities which may have once been pure, but which,
at the fall, were perverted; and those which are radically evil, and
which could not have existed in the heart of man, in his state of
original purity. Without hesitation, we would class pride in the
latter division, as a feeling altogether of demoniacal origin; and
which could not exist in the mind of a pure and holy being.
But though we can thus give a most unhesitating deliverance with
regard to this-vice itself, there are some of its modifications about
which we cannot pronounce so decidedly. The desire of fame, and
the desire of power, and all that is described in our text by the seeking after great things, have so often been declared by our theological writers to be innocent, if not laudable propensities, that we
almost feel as if it were presumption for us to give it as our opinion,
that they are inimical to the spirit of true religion.
It may be true, that such feelings existed in the bosom of our first
parents, before their expulsion from  the blissful abodes of Eden.
and that they vied with each other to gain the favour and applause
perhaps of their God. And it may be true, that there is among
the angels a generous emulation, to provoke each other to good
works; but still we think it true, that in our present condition, it is
extremely dangerous, if not sinful, to give way to this propensity.
It may be argued, indeed, that the love of praise operates as a
very powerful principle in restraining many of the fiercer passions,
and that without it the moral world would soon become a scene of
wild confusion and disorder; but in the same manner might we
plead for anger and selfishness, and even avarice itself. These are
all very powerful checks in restraining many of our grosser propensities, and to them we are indebted for many of the decencies which
adorn civilized society; but who would make this a plea for their
virtuousness?
There is one circumstance which makes the love of fame a very
dangerous propensity; it is the very low standard of virtue which
generally prevails in the world. Were the standard a perfect one,




LOVE  OF  FAME.                        339
then would the case be different.  IIe only would be praised, who
was truly virtuous, and the lovxe of fame would be identical with
the love of virtue. But this, alas, is not the case. The men of the
world have fixed on a standard of virtue convenient for themselves;
and whoever by his actions goes beyond this standard, tacitly pronounces condemnation upon them, and most assuredly will meet
with their hatred and disapprobation. It is thus that the most virtuous in all ages have been met with ignominy and contempt. And
it is thus that this deference to the opinion of the world has diverted
many from the conscientious performance of what they knew to be
right.
Thus, even in a worldly point of view, and considered merely as
an abstract question in morals, would we consider the opinions of
our fellow-men a most improper standard whereby to regulate our
actions. But when we add yet another element, and consider the
subject as it bears upon our religious character, - when we consider
it not only as it affects our duty to our fellow-men, but as it affects
our duty to God, we shall feel that to make the praise of men the
standard of our conduct is still more dangerous.
The love of praise is, perhaps, an original principle of our constitution; and if it be, then it were vain to attempt its annihilation.
Nor is this required of us. All that we are bid to do in the Bible,
is to give it a new direction. And the condemnation of the Pharisees of old, was not that they loved praise, but that they loved the
praise of men more than the praise of God.
We know of no feeling in our constitution which is stronger,
which is more difficult to overcome than the love of fame, or the love
of praise, for we hold them to be very nearly the same. So strong
is it, that it is capable of carrying us through the greatest difficulties and dangers, of enabling us to persevere in the most unwearied
exertion, and urging us onward even to death itself.
What is it that animates the breast of the enterprising traveller,
in his laborious researches?
*        *        *         *        *        *




340                    APPENDIX.
G.
DISCOURSE ON 2 CORINTHIANS iv. 13.
"We having the same spirit of faith, according as it is written, I believed,
and therefore have I spoken; we also believe, and therefore speak."
THERE is a common proverb, that " the truth should not be alvays
told." In other words, that it is not always a good reason for speaking that we believe. Although apparently at first sight a little paradoxical, this saying will be found like most other proverbs, to embody the wisdom of very extensive experience.
There are some truths which concern only a few individuals, and
in which the rest of mankind have no interest whatever. If there
be nothing absolutely wrong, there is at least something very trifling
in publishing such matters. And you cannot, perhaps, pitch upon
a character more universally despised, than that of the busy-body or
the tell-tale.  Yet each of these deservedly detested characters,
could, perhaps, allege in excuse for all his silly conversation, that
he spoke because he believed.
There are other truths which, it would be not only idle and improper, but which it might be cruel, or even criminal to promulgate.
That man could have but little tenderness or humanity in his disposition, who should assiduously relate the disgraces, or the crimes
of a departed parent, to the surviving children; and we would not
hesitate to pronounce it a breach of the second great commandment
of the law, to expose to public view the defects in the private character of our neighhbour. You are aware, indeed, that the latter action
not only is a palpable transgression of the law of God, but comes
under the cognizance even of human jurisprudence.  Truth is a
libel; and it would be no excuse in a court of justice, for the defamer
of his neighbour's good name to affirm, that he had published only
what he had good ground to believe.
You perceive then, that the quality of the motive which Paul
affirms to have actuated him in his public speaking, and in his writings, must depend upon the character of those truths, which he so
assiduously proclaimed. If they were truths which concerned only




DISCOURSE  ON  FAITH.                        341
a few individuals, or which, if they had a reference to all, were of
co;Aparatively insignificant importance, then it was folly in Paul to
labour so hard, and to suffer so much to proclaim them; and, notwithstanding all the cogency of his reasoning, and the sublimity of
his eloquence, we should, in such a case, be tempted to concur in
the opinion of the eastern ruler, that after all he was but a learned
madman.
If, again, the truths which Paul preached tended only to harrow
up the feelings of mankind, and to destroy what might be but early
prejudices, but yet prejudices with which those whom  they influenced had associated all that they held dear as patriots, and all
that they thought sacred in religion: if these truths tended only to
bring to light evils that had long been hidden, and which had even
by the common consent of mankind been carefully concealed: if,
finally, they tended only to demonstrate to mankind that their wisdom was folly, and that their boasted virtue which they had hoped
would open for them the gates of heaven, not only was altogether
unable to expiate their crimes, but was itself too much tainted with
impurity to find acceptance before God: if this alone was the tendency of the truths which Paul preached, it was more than folly -
it was cruelty to proclaim theni. Better far for the world, they had
never been promulgated.
But I need not tell you that the doctrines which Paul preached
were of a far different character.
It is true that they directly tended to produce all the seeming
evils I have been describing; but God be thanked, this was not
their only tendency. True, the feelings of the decent and the virtuous among mankind would be harrowed up, when they were classed
with the vilest of their species, and told that they had been wearing
but the mask of virtue; that the hidden man of the heart was utterly
polluted; that God had concluded all under sin, and that therefore,
all are under condemnation. True, the prejudices of the Jews, with
all their associations of patriotism  and sacredness, must have been
shocked at being told that the descendants of Abraham were no
longer God's chosen nation, but that the Gentiles were become fellow-heirs with them of the promises. True, the apostle's preaching
was, to the Jews, a stumbling-block, and to the Greeks foolishness;
but this was not all, or I repeat it, the apostle was guilty of the
29 *




342                     APPENDIX.
greatest cruelty. But unto them who believe, both Jews and Greeks,
it was the power of God, and the wisdom of God.
In order then to show that the simple belief of the truths of the
gospel is sufficient reason for preaching them, and preaching them,
too, with all the unwearied diligence and fervent zeal which characterized the preaching of the apostle Paul; and at the risk too, of all
the losses and persecutions to which his ministry subjected him, we
shall attempt to show,I. The perfection and excellency of the New  Testament dispensation.
II.. We shall also attempt to show, that the belief of the gospel is
not only a sufficient reason for preaching it, but that it is the on7y
right motive which can lead an individual to the choice of the ministry as his occupation.
The perfection and excellency of the New Testament dispensation
may perhaps be most strikingly illustrated by contrasting it with
less perfect discoveries.
We remark, then, that the doctrines of natural religion, (with a
very few exceptions,} are so very dark and confused, as scarcely to
warrant, and by no means to encourage its promulgation as a system, on the part of those who embrace it.
By the light of nature, it is true, we can clearly perceive the existence and some of the attributes of Deity. It is not to the doctrines
of natural religion, taken individuaIly, but to natural theology itself
as a system of religion, that the foregoing remark is applicable.
Had God never revealed himself to us by his Spirit, or by his Son,
still we might have known something of his character from the
works which he has made. And in contrasting the declarations of
God's word with the language of his works, we conceive that men of
different parties have fallen into opposite extremes.  The mere
philosopher would wish to convince us that nature speaks so audibly,
and so unequivocally of her Sovereign, as to render all supernatural
declarations of his will unnecessary; while, on the other hand, it
must be confessed, that the advocates of a written testimony from
above have sometimes, through a wish to magnify the importance
of the communications of God's Spirit, depreciated that testimony




DISCOURSE  ON  FAITH.                      343
which his works undoubtedly bear to the character of their great
Creator. It is our wish to steer clear of these extremes; and, in
attempting to do so, we cannot follow a safer course than that which
the written testimony itself points out.
" The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth
forth his handy-work. Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto
night showeth knowledge. There is no speech nor language where
their voice is not heard. Their line has gone out through all the
earth, and their words to the end of the world." The invisible
things of our Creator, even his eternal power and Godhead, are thus
clearly seen from the creation of the world -" being understood by
the things that are made."
So far the voice of nature utters a clear and decided declaration;
and so far, those who have listened to no higher testimony, are reprehensible if they speak not what they believe, or what they would
believe did they attend as they ought to the evidence around them.
But when we attempt from these few isolated, though important
truths, to form a system of religion - something that may satisfy us
as to the relation in which we stand to the powerful Being who created the world, how very imperfect does all our knowledge appear
- how unsatisfactory all our conclusions — how dark and fearful
our prospect of futurity!
Tile ancient philosophers of Greece and Rome could clearly perceive, that there was one great Author and Governor of all thingsa Being of inconceivable glory, and of infinite power - and therefore a Being widely different from those contemptible deities which
the impure imagination of their poets had feigned, and which the
perverted judgment of a degraded populace had accepted as the
objects of their worship. They must thus have perceived that idolatry was not only a folly but a crime, and, in so far, they were guilty
for not promulgating the truths they believed; and, in so far, they
are liable to that fearful curse which is denounced against those
who "' confine the truth by unrighteousness."
But it may go far, perhaps, to palliate, though it cannot atone for
their crime, that, when they attempted to carry out their own
speculations, they were landed in most unsatisfactory conclusions;
and if they attempted to guess, when they could no longer determine with certainty, their conjectures of futurity must have been




344                    APPENDI X.
only those of terror and despair. Not only must they have been
convinced from the wondrous objects around them, of the power and
glory of God, but from the conscience within them -that monitor
which whispers approbation to all that is good, and so loudly and
bitterly condemns what is evil; they must have been impressed with
the belief, that He, who gave them such a constitution, must himself be a lover of righteousness, and a hater of iniquity. The voice
of that monitor, however, they must have been conscious they had
often disobeyed; and the thought cannot fail to have struck them,
that in so doing, they had offended Him who had placed that monitor within them. They must thus have arrived at the conclusion,
that they had forfeited the favour of him whom his works declared
so mighty and so glorious. If they risked the thought of another
state of being where they should be brought into the more immediate presence of an offended God, how fearful must have been the
prospect! If God were just, they must abide his righteous indignation; and if he were unjust, the prospect was not more pleasing.
Here was a very fearful dilemma, and yet this was the legitimate
conclusion into which their inquiries must have landed them. We
do not say, that all, or any of the ancient philosophers arrived at
this conclusion; but if they did not, it was because, dreading the
result, they shrunk from the inquiry.
Now, with such a revelation as this, what encouragement was
there to promulgate their opinions?  They could not come boldly
forward with the great apostle of our faith, and say, - "We speak
because we believe."  All with themselves was darkness and doubt;
or if their conjectures amounted to probability, it was a probability
of the most fearful kind; they felt that their opinions landed themselves in no satisfactory conclusions; or if they did seem to point to
any one conclusion more decidedly, it was one of the most appalling
nature, -even that the whole world were exposed to the anger of a
justly offended God.
This view of natural religion may serve to explain to us how the
philosophers of ancient times were so enlightened, while the multitude around them were sunk in the most degraded ignorance. They
did,)t think the truths they possessed worth promulgating, far less
warth svuferlng for. Socrates, that prince of heathens, dashed the
warctw' ~x A  -'4ardom away from him, when it had been as easy for.




DISCOURSE ON FAITH.                       345
him to have gained it as to have refused it, disclaimed the honourable charge that was laid to him of despising the abominations with
which he was surrounded, and even by his latest breath giving the
order that the idolatry of his country should be sanctioned by his
name.
They like very well to start objections, or even to throw the most
insolent aspersions on the truths of Christianity; but when you ask
them what they would substitute in its place, they can give no satisfactory answer. They are, in the true sense of the word, sceptics;
they have no settled opinions. Infidels they are, too, - they doubt,
- they disbelieve.
You see, then, that with such knowledge of God as his works can
give, there is little encouragement to promulgate that knowledge -
to speak, because we believe. We might more strikingly illustrate
this, by contrasting the inactivity and easy carelessness of mere
worshippers of nature in spreading what they profess to believe
with the ardour and the self-denial of the apostles of our faith.
Where, among the great and the wise, who have made reason their
god, do we find an instance of suffering for conscience' sake? Or,
if a very few such examples can be adduced, - where do we find a
single instance of martyrdom for the cause of truth? But I am
alhnost forgetting that this part of my discourse is only an illustration; and is merely intended, by the darkness of its representation,
to mark with a clearer outline, and paint with stronger colouring,
that glorious dispensation under which we live.
But between the twilight darkness of nature, and the full blaze
of that light which shines forth in revelation, there are many intermediate shades of brightness; and besides that dispensation of
mercy under which we live, there is many a supposable way in
which a perfect Being might have treated his rebellious dependants.
You will excuse me, if, in order to illustrate, still further, the perfection and excellence of the Christian revelation, I dwell on some
of the supposable revelations which the Deity might have made
to us.
I am aware, that, to some, this may seem a very circuitous method
of treating my subject, and I may appear to be continually hovering round the point I would be at, without ever actually reaching
it. But it seenls to me, that there are two methods by which a clear




346                     APPENDIX.
conception of any object may be presented, either by directly describing what it is, or by contrasting it with what it is not; just as
the painter may delineate any object, either by actually colouring
what he wishes to portray, or by encircling it with a ground of a
colour different from its own. Unquestionably, both in the case itself, and in the illustration, the former method, in most cases, is
decidedly preferable; but it is as unquestionable, that there are few
instances in which the latter method is more advantageous.  Such
an instance, I conceive, is afforded by the subject which I am now
attempting to set before you. You have all heard of the gospel
again and again; and with its peculiar doctrines, and the blessings
which flow from them, you are intimately acquainted. Since you
know, then, what the gospel is, I have hoped to throw some additional illustration around it, by contrasting it with what it is not.
We all know what a blessing health is, - but how much more highly
do we prize this blessing when just recovered from  some painful
disease. To return, then, from this digression, I remark,
[he revelation of God might have been only a revelation of wrath.
Indeed, this is the kind of revelation, that, from any previous knowledge of the divine character, we should have expected. I have already
attempted to show, that, if natural religion points to any conclusion
this is that conclusion: that God is just and holy, and that man by his
sin has offended him. The word of God, we should expect, would sanction the declarations of his works, and would clearly reveal what
they had but faintly indicated.  And, accordingly, it is so. Revelations of God's word do not give the lie to the testimony of his
works. They speak one language, though the one utters its declarations with a voice more audible and distinct. Instead of a reflection of God's character from his works, we have now a clear manifestation of that character in his word; but it is the same character
which both assign to him; both declare him to be holy, just, and
good.
Instead of the dictates of conscience, we have now the precept,
clear and express, written by God's own finger. And instead of the
conclusion to which natural religion might have led us, that, since
God is just and holy, sin must be punished, we have now the express
declaration annexed to the law by Him who wrote it, -" The soul
that sinneth, it shall die."




DISCOURSE ON FAIT]H.                        347
Instead of the fearful conjectures of natural religion, we have now
a still mo.re fearful certainlty, - that, since all men have manifestly
sinned, all have to look forward to eternal condemnation. It is true,
some have objected, that, if none can keep the law of God, it is surely
inconsistent with his goodness to have given so strict a law. We
might answer such objections with the apostle's argument, -" Nay,
but who art thou, 0 man," &c. But we need not make such an
appeal to God's sovereignty. An imperfect law would have argued
a lawgiver imperfectly holy. So that either holiness and goodness
are incompatible with each other, or the strictness of the law of God
is consistent with his goodness.
If there was little encouragement to promulgate the doctrines of
natural religion, still less would there be to promulgate the doctrines
of a revelation so fearful as this. In that case there is uncertainty, or
at best, fearful conjecture; but then it was but conjecture, and the
powerful influence of hope bore the minds even of those who half
believed it, above its fears. But here there is nothing on which hope
can lay hold. Here is no conjecture; it is certainty, and certainty
the most overwhelming, even " a certain fearful looking for of judgment, and fiery indignation."
Such is the revelation we might have expected from Heaven; and
had God thus dealt with us according to our deserts, in all probability this world, as it now is, would never have existed. The very
first breach of God's law must have immediately incurred the full
weight of the curse; for, it were absurd to talk of a state of trial in
regard to those whose certain destiny was everlasting destruction.
But supposing, for a moment, that the world did exist under such a
dispensation, as it exists now, and rebellious man were permitted to
live a few short years as the ungodly now do, in forgetfulness of
God, and careless security; the question presents itself, - Supposing
this fearful revelation of God's wrath to be made known to some
individuals, would it be right to promulgate the dreadful truth, - to
speak, because we believed? We conceive not. That there would
be no encouragement to do so is abundantly manifest. For if it be
no enviable duty to communicate to a criminal the sentence that
condemns him to the suffering of temporal death, it were assuredly




848                    APPENDIX.
a fearful task to publish the death-warrant of a world doomed to
eternal perdition.
But, we conceive, were this revelation known to a few, it would be
the greatest cruelty on their part to publish it; it would be tormenting before the time. Could it indeed be hoped, that by the revelation of God's wrath against all iniquity, men would be led to see the
evil of sin, and would be kept from sinking deeper in destruction;
then it might be merciful to proclaim  it, inasmuch as we might
thereby hope to alleviate the punishment which we could not prevent. But who, that knows the mind of fallen man, does not see
that quite the reverse of this would be the case? This announcement of the Divine justice would call forth a fresh display of the
corruption of his rebellious subjects, who would thereby plunge still
deeper into the abyss of perdition. There are instances even now
in the world, of some who have despaired of mercy, and none do we
find more hardened against their God, or more proudly eminent in
rebellion. They gather strength from despair, and they dare the
Almighty to his face. Their language is, " Evil, be thou our good.
Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die. - Let us enjoy while we
may, the pleasures of this life, and then sink into endless misery."
Rather than rouse such a spirit as this, would it not be better to let
men slumber on in ignorance of their fate, till destruction itself
awoke them from their slumbers?
Under such a dispensation, it is very obvious, an office, analogous
to the ministry, could never have existed. If these fearful truths
were known to a single individual of our species, he must thereby
be rendered perfectly wretched, even in this life, and would be led
from the depravity of his nature, to curse the justice of Jehovah,
and to sin with a high hand against his God. It is, therefore, altogether impossible to conceive that such an individual should publish
these appalling truths from  a sense of duty, or a conviction that it
was right, whatever might be the consequences, to publish the will
of God; and we can see no other motive that could lead him to divulge the awful secret, but one of the most devilish malignity,-even
a wish to steal from his fellows their envied ignorance, and make
them as wretched as himself. Such cruelty were it, to break the
slumbers of a malefactor, who, on the night before his execution,
should dream of pardon, and think himself restored to his family




DISCOURSE ON FAITH.                         349
and his friends, to tell him that his fancied happiness was all delusion, and to recall his thoughts to the fearful realities before him.
There is an anecdote of an Indian Brahmin, which may throw
some light upon this subject, and with which some of you may be
acquainted. You are aware that the priests of India think it the
greatest crime to destroy animal life, and accordingly live entirely
on herbs. It is said that one of our countrymen, in arguing with
one of these Brahmins, in order to convince him of the falsity of the
doctrines he held, in regard to this matter, showed him by a microscope that the stems and leaves of the herbs on which he lived, were
covered with hundreds of minute, yet living sentient creatures. This
was ocular demonstration, and it could not be resisted.  The
priest had placed his hopes of happiness on his fancied innocence,
and now that the enormity of his crimes was laid before him, his
peace of mind was destroyed, and all his hopes of enjoyment were
blasted. It is said, that after continuing thoughtful for a considerable time, he earnestly inquired of the other on what terms he would
part with this wonderful instrument; and having at last with considerable difficulty, obtained possession of it, he dashed it into a
thousand pieces. It had broken his peace of mind, he said, but
never should it destroy the peace of another.
This anecdote is generally adduced as affording an -instance of
bigoted attachment to former opinions, even when convinced of their
falseness. But we view it in a very different light; we think that
the action displays a dignified benevolence. ~ Had new hopes of happiness, founded on more rational principles, been substituted in the
room of those which he now perceived to be so groundless, then it
would have been cruelty to have allowed his countrymen to dream
of happiness that could never be realized; but the alternative was
not between delusive hopes and rational expectations of enjoyment,
but between a dream of happiness and the certainty of woe.
I And just so, had the gospel never reached our earlth, but only a revelation of God's perfect holiness and justice, it had been better far that
men should be permitted, while here, to dream on of a heaven they
were never to enter, than to tell them beforehand of the punishment
it was impossible to escape, and thus to add to the sufferings that
soon were to burst upon them the dire forebodings of misery, in some
cases more dreadful even than the misery itself.
30




350                    APPENDIX.
But let us turn from  these terrific suppositions to the glorious
reality. It is not a message of condemnation which we are commissioned to bear to our fellow-men. The tidings that have reached us
from on high are " glad tidings of great joy." That fearful revelation, indeed, which we have just been considering, is still true, and
has been revealed to us from heaven, but, God be thanked, it came
not alone; and the dread nature of that condemnation which it reveals, serves but to cast a brighter lustre around the offers of that
mercy which promises a free pardon to all who will but accept of it.
In all the revelations God has made to us, mercy is the prominent
feature. Mercy even anticipates justice, and it is a striking fact that
man was never let into the fearful condition into which his sin had
brought him, till deliverance was promised. There was no room
left for the workings of despair; for the curse was not pronounced
upon the rebellious representatives of our race till God had pledged
his word that the seed of the woman should bruise the head of the
adversary who had seduced her.
This mercy has been obtained for us in a way that natural religion could never have anticipated. There could be no hope that
any being, however powerful, could stay the arm of offended omnipotence; neither could there be any rational expectation, although
such an expectation some have chosen to indulge, that, by a sort of
amiable weakness, which creatures sometimes indulge, a shrinking
from  infliction of punishment which justice demands, the Deity
should screen us from the misery we have entailed upon ourselves,
even though his justice and his holiness should suffer by his compassion. "God is not a man, that he should lie, nor the Son of man
that he should repent."  lie had declared that death was the inevitable consequence of transgression; and his mercy, far firom giving
the lie to his justice, confirms the sentence of the law: for in the
dispensation of the new covenant, that truth has its most striking
illustration; that, without a due satisfaction to injured justice there
can be no remission of sin. It is the Lawgiver, the Judge himself,
that has offered us forgiveness. And his character, as our Saviour,
is in perfect consistency with his character, as our righteous Judge.
"The Lord saw that there was no man, and he wondered that
there was no intercessor, therefore his own arm brought salvation
unto him, and his righteousness it sustained him." God sent his Son




DISCOURSE  ON  FAITH.                       851
into the world, but it was not, as well might have been expected, to
condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved.
Thus a free offer of pardon is made to the whole of a condemned
world; and had the simple truth of redemption through the sacrifice
of Christ to every one that believeth, been all that had been revealed, this of itself would seem enough to answer all the circumstances of our lost condition. Could any one be acquainted with
such a truth, and not speak what he believed? Is not the simple
belief of such a doctrine enough to account for all the trials and
privations that have been undergone by the evangelists of our faith,
in order to promulgate the knowledge of this treaty of reconciliation
between a rebellious world and its offended Sovereign?
But though this free offer of mercy seems at first sight to be suited
to all the circumstances of fallen man, we shall find, on further inquiry, that were this single doctrine to constitute the whole of the
dispensation of mercy, the plan would be incomplete, and the Son of
God might have come into our world, and died for our sins, and yet
have suffered and died in vain.
Man, by his fall, became a sinful being, and as such, he has a
dislike to every holy principle. We have already remarked, that a
revelation of God's wrath against sin would tend only to harden him
in his depravity, but it is a still more striking proof of the depth of
human depravity, that even the offers of mercy are contemptuously
refused.  Instead of the tone of indignation in which God might
have addressed us, he has chosen to speak in accents of mercy, saying, ~" Look unto me, and be ye saved, all ye ends of the earth." He
condescends even to reason with, to warn us of our danger, and to
entreat us with more than a father's tenderness. "Turn ye, turn
ye, why will ye die!"
But the terrors of God's law, and the gracious invitations of his
mercy, and the earnestness of his warnings, and the tenderness of
his expostulations, fall equally powerless on the ear of infatuated
man. IIe will not be saved.
You see, then, the necessity of the doctrine of divine influence, to
render the gospel dispensation altogether complete, and suited to all
the peculiarities of our lost estate.  Without this influence,$not a
single individual would accept the proffered mercy of heaven.
But supposing a single individual, or a few individuals, did accept




352                    APPENDIX.
the testimony, you can see that there would be no encouragement to
proclaim it to others. At first, indeed, if the message were truly believed, there would be an ardent wish to communicate to others the
inestimable blessing, and the confident expectation that all would
cling to the terms of mercy as soon as they were offered. But how
soon would the zeal of the supposed evangelist be damped, to find
that the offers of forgiveness were turned from with loathing, and
treated with contempt. How soon would he abate his ardour, and
exclaim, as he sat down in despair of benefitting his fellow-men, "I
have laboured in vain; I have spent my strength for nought and in
vain!"
To make a new application of an illustration sufficiently trite:
Were a building in flames, and had you succeeded in making an
easy communication between the ground, and some part of the tenement where the noise of voices indicated that there were human beings within; you would naturally suppose that your benevolence had
effected its purpose.  You would never dream that the inmates
would need to be persuaded to escape for their life. But did you, in
the prosecution of your benevolent purpose, actually ascend to that
part of the building whence the voices issued, there is nothing absurd in the supposition, that you might find the inmates to be a company of bacchanalians, who, in the phrenzy of intoxication, were
alike ignorant of their danger, and regardless of your entreaties. It
is possible, that all your warnings might be answered by the infatuated laugh of intemperate mirth, or even by the insolent attack of
some furious debauchee, and thus might you find that all your
efforts were vain; and even after having made all the preparations
for their deliverance that seemed necessary, you might find yourself compelled to abandon them to their fate. And so it is with the
men of this world, in regard to the everlasting destruction that is
hanging over them. They, too, are "drunken, though it be not
with wine; and they stagger, though it be not with strong drink."
"The spirit of a deep sleep has been poured out upon them, and
their eyes have been closed."
You perceive, then, that without the pouring out of the Spirit of
God, in order. to turn the hearts of our apostate race, all the apparatus of a Saviour's incarnation, and sufferings, and death, might
have been spent upon our world in vain. But, God be thanked, the




DISCOURSE  ON  FAITT.                       853
system of mercy is complete in all its parts, and suited in every respect to the circumstances of our case. The promise of the Spirit
has been given, and in every individual who is turned from darkness to light, we have a standing proof that the promise is fulfilled.
Such is the system of truth, which, as Christians, we profess to
believe. If we do not belie our profession, we believe that every
individual of the millions that inhabit our globe, or that have dwelt
upon its surface ever since the beginning, has transgressed the law
of Jehovah. We believe that by the most stupendous sacrifice, even
the humiliation and death of one of the Persons of the Godhead, the
punishment that is due to our deeds has been averted, and unlimited
pardon procured for the whole human race. We believe, however,
that in order to profit by this general deed of amnesty, which the
Sovereign of heaven and earth has issued, there must be a distinct
reception of the terms of forgiveness on the part of an individual
criminal; and, coupled with this belief, we are aware of the fact,
that, though it is now eighteen hundred years since an express Messenger from heaven published this treaty of reconciliation in our
world, comparatively few have welcomed the gracious message, and
at this moment three-fourths of the population of our globe are in
utter ignorance that such a message has ever come.
Do we believe these things, my brethren, and shall we not speak
what we believe? Is there not a duty entailed upon every Christian,
as far as it is in his power, by the belief of these great truths, to
publish them to his fellow-men? And is there not a woe pronounced
against every believer, if; in as far as he has opportunity, he preach
not the gospel? It is not necessary to the preaching of the gospel
that we pass through a preparatory course of science and literature,
or that we be commissioned to do so by our fellow-men. Nor is it
necessary to the preaching of the gospel, that we ascend a pulpit, or
be surrounded with any of the apparatus of ordinary parsonship. It
is not necessary that our address be made to a public assembly at
all. Nor is it even necessary, ere we open our mouth to our fellowmen, that we work up a laboured systematic discourse.  These
things may accompany the preaching of the gospel, but they are by
no means its necessary accompaniments, and it is hard to say
whether this lavish profusion of human preparation, and worldly
pomp, has not in many instances robbed of their native dignity and
30 *




354                     APPENDIX.
impressiveness, those sublime but simple truths which manifestly
appear-" when unadorned, adorned the most."  The preaching
of the gospel, as imperative upon every Christian, needs not the aid
of deep meditation, or of human scholarship. It consists in the simple communication to others of the simplest truths. We may preach
to the little family circle as we sit in the house, or even to the solitary companion as we walk by the way. The simple belief of the
gospel is all that is necessary to give us a title, and even to lay us
under an obligation, to preach it in the sense which I have explained.
David believed, and therefore he spoke! Paul believed, and therefore he spoke! and every Christian, having the same spirit of faith
which dwelt in the Psalmist and the Apostle, should be able to
adopt their language, and say, I also believe, and therefore speak.
And- if, my brethren, the same spirit of faith is working in us, it
has not been the choice of our profession that has laid us under an
obligation to preach the gospel; but the previously felt obligation
that has led us to make choice of our profession.
If we can conscientiously give it as the reason for our proclaiming
the truths of Christianity, that we speak because we believe, our
conduct will be necessarily modified by the motives that actuate us;
and our preaching shall be of a very different kind from that of the
mere mercenaries of the church, or even from that of those who
make their regular Sabbath-day exhibitions merely from a sense of
professional duty.
In the first place, I remark, that our motive will regulate the time
of our preaching.
If it be merely the wish to perform decently the duties of a minister, which is our ruling motive, then we shall, in all probability,
be content with working up during the week, as much matter as will
enable us to make on the Sabbath, two or three speeches, of the
ordinary length, according as the custom of our predecessors, or the
taste of our congregation may demand. If a parish be entrusted
to our care, we may in all probability add to this the yearly or halfyearly visitation of a few of our parishioners; and if we be set over
a dissenting congregation, we may, perhaps, contrive, without much
risk (if our discourses happen to please the taste of our hearers;)
of being thought inattentive to duty, to neglect the duty of visitation altogether.




DISCOURSE  ON  FA IT.                       355
But if we speak because we believe, -if it be a decided conviction of the truth and importance of the doctrines of the gospel, and
an experimental proof of their soothing and sanctifying influence on
our own mind, which inspires us from a principle of gratitude to our
God, and compassion for our fellow-men, with the desire to devote
ourselves to the service of God in the ministry of his Son; then our
preaching will not be a thing of set times, or formal exhibitions.
We shall not, indeed, despise the established order of Christian
worship; the principle that actuates us will lead us to become " all
things to all men, if by any means we may save some."  We shall
thus be glad to seize those opportunities when the commandment of
God, and the laws and customs of our country have assembled many
together for the purposes of religion; but our preaching will not be
confined to the public exercises of the Sabbath, but according to the
very solemn charge of the, apostle, we shall be instant in preaching
the word, in season and out of season, and in imitation of his example we shall not only speak as we have opportunity in the public
places consecrated to devotion, but also from house to house. And
even the ordinary intercourse that we carry on with our fellow-men,
our correspondence with friends at a distance, and our conversations
with companions who are near, will alike be consecrated to those
grand objects to which our own selves are devoted.
But our motive will not only regulate the times of our preaching,
it will also determine the mode of our preaching.
If we believe that the great object for which the gospel was sent
into our world was to effect the pardon and moral renovation of man;
and if we believe what the Scriptures assure us, that this is chiefly
to be effected by faith in a few simple elementary doctrines, we shall
dwell much upon these doctrines, and ever make them the theme of
our discourse.
If we are assured that he who believes in Jesus Christ shall be
saved, we shall determine, like the early promulgators of the faith,
to know nothing among men, but Jesus Christ, and him crucified:
we shall not preach ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord, and ourselves the servants of all, for Jesus' sake.
If, again, we believe that the same Spirit which breathed life into
the dry bones of the prophet's vision, must still exert his vivifying
energy, ere a single sinner can be raised from a death in trespasses




356                    APPENDIX.
and sins, to newness of life; and if we further believe that the Spirit is the gift of prayer, we shall be ardent in our supplications at
the throne of grace, for the out-pouring of that mysterious influence,
which, though itself unseen, is so visible in its effects, and without
which the most splendid eloquence, and the most cogent reasoning
can absolutely effect nothing.
Finally, our motive will also, to a certain extent, determine the
sphere of our labours.
If we believe that there is one broad line which separates men
into two distinct classes, - those who believe, and those who do not;
those consequently who have obtained pardon, and those who are
still under condemnation-we shall esteem it a matter of infinitely
greater importance to lead an individual across that boundary, than
to lead an individual who has already past it a few steps further on
in his progress. The building up of believers is, no doubt, a most
important work; but still we cannot help thinking, that it must
yield in importance to the work of conversion.
H.
ON NATURAL RELIGION.
IN the Bible we are told, that, at the final judgment, all men will
be made the subjects of an equitable moral reckoning. But we
know, from the history of our species, that there have been, and that
there still are in the world, thousands who have never had access to
that revelation from Heaven with which we have been favoured. It
becomes then an interesting inquiry, how far the natural light of
reason can render men the fit subjects of a moral reckoning; and
how, in such a condition there can be any distinction between the
godly and the ungodly. In that record, which hath come from
Heaven, it is said, in reference to such individuals, that " God hath
showed unto them that which may be known of himself. because the
invisible things of him from the creation of the world, are clearly




ESSAY ON NATURAL RELIGION.   857
seen. being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal
power and Godhead: so that they are without excuse." In other
words, it is affirmed that those who have never had access to any
direct communication from Heaven, are yet accountable for their
deeds, inasmuch as the existence and the character of God may be
gathered from the works which he has made. And it is thus that
there may be a distinction between those who have been led by these
dim intimations of his presence, to grope, though in the dark, after
their Creator; and those, who, notwithstanding these intimations,
" have said in their heart, that there is no God."  When God looked
down from heaven upon the children of men, it was to see if there
were any that did understand, — if there were any that did seek
after God.
The evidence for the existence of a God is so manifest in all his
works, that there have scarcely been found any people, however ignorant and degraded, who have not recognized, in the objects that are
around them, the traces of a designing and intelligent Creator. The
marks of design are evident in the combinations and processes of
inanimate nature. We can see them in the harmonious revolutions
of those vast globes which compose the universe. We can see them
in the varied operation of those elements which are at work upon
the surface of our earth; in the regular succession of' summer and
winter, spring-time and harvest. We behold them in the descending shower which refreshes the soil, and in the ascending vapour
which feeds the mighty cisterns from whence that shower was poured.
And still more palpably do we recognize the traces of intelligence
in the structure and physiology of the vegetable kingdom. In those
roots which fix the plant in the soil, and collect for it its nutritive
juices; in those tubes by which these juices are conveyed through
all its various branches; in those leaves which cover and protect
the infant bud, and die away again when the seed is ripened; in
those autumnal breezes which scatter the seeds on the bosom of the
earth, there to spring up in their turn, and to become distinct members of the vegetable family-in all this varied conformation of
parts, and succession of agents, can we distinctly perceive the adaptation of means to an end; an adaptation which must have been
the result of contemplation and design. But it is in animated nature that we have the most striking proofs of the existence of an in



858                    AP PEND I X,
telligent Creator.  In the structure of the bodies of animals the
marks of design are so manifold, that the simple enumeration of
them would far exceed our limits. In the structure of the eye alone,
they are sufficiently numerous for our purpose.  It is arched over
with an eye-brow to carry off from it the moistures of the head. It
is furnished with an eye-lid, which washes and moistens it, which
covers it in sleep, which protects it when awake, spontaneously shutting on the approach of danger. Its optical adaptations are still
more striking. It has its levers, which shift backward and forward,
and which, without the will, or even the knowledge of him who possesses it, suit themselves to the distance of the object on which he
gazes.  In like manner, by the enlargement or contraction of its
orifice, does the eye adapt itself to the degree of light that is around
it, by a mechanism which baffles the imitation of human ingenuity,
and even mocks the scrutiny of anatomical investigation. Nor is
the internal physiology of animals less indicative of design than the
external organization of their bodies.  We might enumerate, as
examples, the preparation and distribution of the various secretions,
which either moisten the eye, or which lubricate the joints; or
which supply that stream of circulation whose ebbings and flowings
are the mystic indication of animal life; in short, all the varied and
multifarious processes which are going on in the laboratory that is
within us.
These are but a few of the indications inscribed upon the face of
nature, which point to nature's God. And it were indeed strange,
if man, with all these evidences of design, should never think of an
intelligent Designer. Nor has it been so.  All have recognized
these proofs of a Divinity. The most ignorant and barbarous nations on the face of the earth, have imagined for themselves (how.
ever degrading and incongruous their imaginations may have been),
some great and intelligent Being who made the heavens and the
earth. It is not among the rude and ignorant sons of barbarism,
that we are to look for those who have denied the existence of a God.
Atheism is an unnatural crime; and we must look for its manifestations chiefly among those who have been bewildered by the speculations of an unnatural philosophy.
The natural attributes of God seem to follow as corollaries to the
demonstration of his existence. Every one must admit, that, if there




ESSAY  ON  N ATURAL  RELIGION.                     359
be a Being who made these heavens, and this earth, and all that is
in them. he must be a Being of infinite might. We at once conclude,
that He who gave the sea its bounds, that it should not pass his decree, must be very powerful; that He who counts the number of the
stars, and guides them in their courses must be very great; that lie
who binds them to their orbits by the simple law of gravitation,
must be very wise.
So far our way has been smooth and even, and the steps of the
demonstration have been of easy ascent; but it is when we begin to
consider the moral attributes of Deity, that we feel our progress impeded by many obstructions. It is here that we begin to perceive
the insufficiency of the light of nature. It is when we begin to look
around amid the works of God for the proofs of his goodness and his
justice, that we feel ourselves bewildered and confounded.  Yet
some proofs of these there must exist independent of that revelation
which God has made known to some of his creatures, or we cannot
see how those who have never heard of this revelation are at all accountable for their actions. For aught that we have yet proved, IIe
who formed with such exquisite skill, and such infinite power, these
heavens and this earth, may after all care nothing for the beings he
has made. He may sit in cold abstraction upon the throne of his
majesty, regardless of the intelligent creatures he hath formed. Hle
may have required nothing at their hand, and in consequence it may
not be their duty to render aught to him. Or, he who reigns over
the monarchy of the universe, may, notwithstanding his greatness,
and his power, and his wisdom, be a demon of malignant influence;
and however fearful our situation under such a conjecture, it may be
our duty to resist his every commandment. In order that all men
may be accountable before God, even natural religion must furnish
some clue to the ascertaining of these uncertainties. And we conceive that it does so, though not in the way that has usually been
represented.
It has been usual with the expounders of natural theism  to sum
up all the misery that is to be found in the world, and having placed
it in counterpoise with the happiness which we also find there, to pronounce the Deity benevolent or malignant as the one scale or the
other preponderates. They have represented to us the many hours of
health we enjoy for one hour of sickness; and the many different




360                    APP EN DIX.
circumstances that must meet ere we can enjoy one hour of ease.
And they have told of the happiness of the inferior animals, and
have instanced the countless shoals of happy ephemeroa which dance
with joy in the meridian sunbeam. Now we can see that this is an
argument for comparative benevolence, but we cannot see it to be
an argument for perfect goodness. It proves that our Creator is not
a devil, but it does not prove him to be a God. It may be true that
we enjoy hundreds of hours of health for one hour of sickness; but
why this one hour of sickness?  Our natural theist should remember too, that health is not all that is necessary to constitute happiness. Why is it that not a day passes over our head, but brings
with it something to mar our enjoyment, some painful affront, some
boding fear, some disappointed hope? And when they point to the
happiness of the inferior creation, they would do well to remember
the ravages of death. Do they forget, that for those numberless
myriads of insects which sport so blithely in the noontide sun;
myriads as numberless have, since He made the circuit of the heavens, struggled in the throes of dissolution? Why this mixture of
misery with happiness, if God be altogether benevolent?
These objections did not fail to present themselves to the minds
of our academic theists, and accordingly they have made an attempt
to meet them. They have feigned for themselves some delightful
region beyond the grave, where there will be happiness without
alloy, and where the miseries of life will be merged and forgotten
amid the joys of a blissful eternity. We say, "have feigned for
themselves;" for, on coming to examine their grounds of belief in
the existence of a future state, we find that the opinion has no
foundation but in the assumed goodness of the Deity, the very point
they have employed it to prove. But passing for the present this
defect in their reasoning, we cannot see how a futurity of happiness,
though established on the surest evidence, can at all make out their
case. The question still recurs, Why a state of mixed enjoyment at
all?  Why a single moment of imperfect felicity under the government of a benevolent God? Would it be deemed a sufficient excuse
for the cruelty of an earthly parent to his infant son, that when that
son had grown to manhood, the father had done all in his power to
promote his happiness? And can it be thought a sufficient vindication of the character of him who is called the Father of our spirits,




ESSAY ON NATURAL RELIGION.   861
that although he hath made us miserable upon earth, he will not
make us miserable in heaven?
Notwithstanding this anomaly in the moral government of God,
and notwithstanding the weakness of the reasoning on which the
argument for his goodness has been founded, there is a strong intuitive belief in the minds of his intelligent creatures, that God is good
and that the Judge of all the earth will do rightly.  So strong is
this inherent faith in the divine goodness, and so abhorrent to the
mind of man is the thought of a malignant God, that rather than
accede to the monstrous proposition that the Divinity is wicked, men
have chosen to struggle against the most palpable demonstrations of
their senses, and have acceded to the equally monstrous proposition
that there is no Divinity at all.
Whence springs this deep-rooted and almost universal belief in
divine benevolence and justice?  We conceive it to be the result of
that constitution of our nature by which conscience has the supremacy in the kingdom that is within us. It seems a just conclusion,
that had he been a spirit of demoniac malignity, or of aught but
perfect righteousness, who built our frame, he never would have
placed within us a monitor to reproach us for our vice, and to
whisper approbation to our deeds of virtue.
This seems the only satisfactory evidence, independent of revelation, for the moral perfections of the Deity. It does not resolve the
anomaly of his moral government, but it may lead to the resolution
of it. It does not satisfy, but it may stimulate to inquiry. And
who can fix the limit which must bound the discoveries of the pious
inquirer on this subject, who has nought but the glimmering of nature's light to guide his footsteps? Even he may come to perceive
that there is an indissoluble union between vice and wretchedness,
and that the misery which exists in our world is casually connected
with the moral evil which is also found there.
But this same constitution of our nature, which proves the moral
attributes of God, tells us also of our connection with him, by revealing to us what he hath required of us. And thus it is that all men
become, to a certain degree, acquainted with the law of God, and
are consequently the fit subljects of a moral reckoning. It is thus
that "the Gentiles not having the (revealed) law, are a law unto
themselves: who show the work of the law written in their hearts,
31




862                     APPENDIX.
their conscience also bearing witness, and their thoughts the mean
while accusing, or excusing one another?" If a man thus perceive
the moral perfections of God, and if he compare his own doings with
the requirements of his conscience, he must find that he has come
short of the law of God; and he will wistfully look for a way of
reconciliation.
This is the state in which natural religion leaves its votaries; but,
unfortunately, it is not the state in which academic theists have
usually left their disciples. They have been desirous of solving
those difficulties in which their science places them, and they have
done so by making a most degrading compromise between the goodness and the justice of the Deity, by representing God to be such a
one as ourselves.
There are two grand desiderata in which natural religion lands its
disciples. The one is to effect a reconciliation between the benevolence of the Deity, and the misery that exists among his creatures.
The other is to effect a reconciliation between the mercy and the
justice of God, in the pardon of those who have transgressed his
law. The solution of these two desiderata, constitutes the grand
design of that revelation which God hath given us. And it is thus
that the humble disciple of natural religion is in the best state of
preparation for the faith of the gospel. Ile is there told, that the
misery which exists in our world, is the fruit of moral evil: that
" by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so
death hath passed upon all men, for that all have sinned." There,
too, he is told of a Mediator, who hath suffered in the room of the
guilty, and he can thus perceive how God is just, yet not at the expense of his goodness; merciful, yet not by a degrading compromise
of his justice.
This revelation has made manifest all that relates to ourselves,
but it has not made manifest Ill that relates to God. With regard
to the second desideratum, (the way of our acceptance with God),
it is clear and perspicuous: but with regard to the first, (the reconciliation between the divine goodness and the misery of his creatures), it has thrown a light across the darkness, but it has not perfectly illumined it. It has shifted the difficulty, but it has not entirely removed it. It tells us that misery is the result of moral evil;
but with regard to the origin of evil, it is altogether silent.  It an



ESSAY ON THE  CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 363
swers the objection, "Why does he yet find fault, for who hath resisted his will?" by reminding us of our ignorance, and our weakness; "Nay, but, 0 man, who art thou that repliest against God?"
The Bible was not intended to present us with a full development
of the divine character; but only to niake known to us so much of
that character as affects our own acceptance with the Deity. It was
not meant to be a sun from whence might emanate a full illumination to reveal every object around us, but it was given us as a lamp to
guide our own footsteps through the darkness of nature. The Day
Star, it is true, hath arisen upon us, and "our path is as the shining light, which shineth more and more unto the perfect day;" but
the day itself hath not yet dawned. Here we see as through a glass,
darkly, and know but in part: but we look forward to a period of
clearer revelation, when there shall beam forth upon us a brighter
display of the Divine attributes in all their harmony. And then
shall we see "face to face, and know even as we are known."
I shall be. excused from giving my opinion of this production,
when I quote the following sentence annexed to it, in the handwriting of Dr. Chalmers:-"An Essay of surpassing worth, as
have been all the other corupositions of its author in the 3Moral
Philosophy Class."
PRIZE ESSAY ON THE MUTUAL INFLUENCES AND) AFFINITIES,
WHCICH OBTAIN BETWEEN THE MORAL AND THE ECONOMIC
CONDITION OF SOCIETY.
W~ITH those who wish to prove from natural religion, the existence
of a state of retribution, beyond the grave, the unequal distribution
of rewards and punishments in the present life, has always been a
favourite argument. Such individuals have usually placed before
us, in strongest colouring, that success which sometimes crowns the




364                     AP PEND IX.
fraudulent schemes of the vicious; which they have rendered doubly
impressive, by contrasting it with those unforeseen calamities, which
so often, in this world of uncertainty, crush the most strenuous exertions of aspiring virtue. In order to reconcile this seeming injustice with the assumed goodness of the Deity, they argue that there
must be some future state of existence, where a recompense shall be
rendered to the virtuous for all his sufferings on earth; and where
that vengeance, which has been long delayed, shall at last overtake,
and utterly overwhelm the vicious.
Now, though we perfectly agree with those who thus reason, and
think that their conclusions are most legitimately deducible from
the premises, yet we cannot help the conviction that they have
somewhat overstrained their argument, and that in their zeal to
prove that the present life is but a state of probation, they have
sometimes represented the moral government of God in our world,
as more deranged, and further froin equity than actually is the case.
Notwithstanding all that has been advanced to the contrary, we
think we are entitled, from the strongest historical evidence, to believe that the proverb, though not universally, yet very generally,
holds true, even when we confine our regards to man's present existence, that virtue is her own reward, and that vice involves its own
punishment; or, in other words, that there is a very intimate connection between a man's moral character, and his economic circumstances.  Idleness and vice are, with few exceptions, the harbingers
of disease and misery, while sobriety and industry seldom  fail to
procure for their possessor, respectability and comfort. So that we
shall in general find, that if a virtuous rman come to ruin, it is not
because of, but in spite of his virtue; and that on the other hand, if
a vicious man prosper, it is not because of, but in spite of his immorality. And these remarks are not only consonant to experience
and sound philosophy, but they also receive additional ct nfilmation
from the announcements of revelation, which ever describes moral
evil as the sole cause of all the misery that is to be found in our
world; and which holds out to him who is obedient to its precepts,
the promise of the life which now is, as well as of that life which is
to come.
But if these remarks hold, generally, with regard to individuals,
they are still more universally true when applied to nations. An




ESSAY ON THE CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 365
individual may get rich by fraud and injustice; but we know of no
vice that can aggrandize a nation. Some unforeseen calamity, on
the other hand, may overwhelm the most virtuous individual; but
we know not of any obstacle which can impede the rising greatness
of a country, whose inhabitants are sober and industrious, and
which is governed with justice and liberality.  So that we may
safely aver, if not of individuals, at least of communities, that there
is a very close and intimate connection between their moral, and
their economic condition.
To point out a few of the mutual influences and affinities which
obtain between the moral and the economic condition of mankind,
will, therefore, be the object of the following observations.  And
we shall consider the subject; First, As it may be illustrated in
savage life, and in the subsequent progress of a community from
barbarism to refinement. And, secondly, In its relation to civilized
society.
The most degraded condition in which we can suppose human
beings to be placed, and that in which man most nearly resembles
the animals of the inferior creation, is that condition in which there
is no mental culture, no moral instruction whatever. As this is the
lowest condition in which a community can be placed in point of
morals, so is it the lowest in point of economic comfort. The untutored savage comes into the world, and fedes himself actuated by
certain appetites and passions, which, as he has never been taught
to restrain, he makes it his sole employment to gratify. His present
wants occupy so much of his attention, that he seldom  thinks of
making provision for those that are future.  His subsistence, therefore, consists entirely in the spontaneous productions of the earth
and the sea; in the animals which he can succeed in capturing, and
in the scanty fruits which the soil may produce without the labour
of human hands.  The latter a, re so insignificant that they can
scarcely be taken into account; and accordingly, we find, that fishing,
anld the chase, constitute, in general, the sole employments of nations
sunk in this lowest state of barball risim.
Nothing can be more uncertain, however, than the returns which
such occup;ations yield; and the savage has too little foresight to
make the success of one expedition compensate for the failure of another. If he catch a deer, he does not think of laying up part of it
31*




366                     APPENDIX.
against the emergencies of future bad fortune, but proceeds forthwith to gratify the voracious appetite of himself and his family,
which has in all likelihood, been whetted by long fisting, or by a
long succession of scanty meals. After he has thus profusely wasted
his whole stock of provisions, he must again fast, perhaps for days,
or support existence by means of the few miserable berries which
the woods can afford him, till another deer falls in his way, when
the same scene of gluttony takes place, and the same course of
misery follows. If another has been more successful than himself,
his sense of justice is by far too weak to deter him from satisfying
the cravings of a famished appetite at whatever expense. HI-le will
not hesitate to fight with his enemy for the sake of the animals he
may have caught, or even, in some instances, to murder him for the
sake of the horrid repast which his flesh may furnish. A want of
the necessaries of life is said to be the cause of those bloody contentions which are ever bursting forth among savage tribes. And the
cruel and merciless nature of that warfare may be imagined, where
the contest is not, as among civilized nations, for some imaginary
honour, or for some disputable territory; but, where the prize of
victory consists in the flesh of the vanquished. It is only necessary
to take into account the element of population, in order to complete
this revolting picture of human wretchedness.  If the savage has
not foresight enough to provide for his own wants, it is not likely
that he will be more careful to provide for the wants of his family.
In such a state of society there can be no moral restraint to keep the
population within the bounds of an uncertain and scanty subsistence: these bounds, however, it cannot exceed, and we may look for
the positive checks which restrain it, in those extirpating wars to
which we have already alluded, as well as in the licentious and impure habits of savages, and in those famines and pestilential diseases which are occasioned by their wretched mode of life.
In this state of things we may suppose that some savage, who had
often experienced the miseries of extreme want, bethinks himself
of laying up part of the provisions which he has caught to-day, to
insure against the uncertainty of to-morrow's expedition. We may
suppose that he feels the benefit of this new arrangement, and that,
in consequence, he continues it. There may thus originate in the
nmind of the savage, a sense of property.  Savage, though he be, he




ESSAY ON THE CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 367
is yet man; and on man, even in this most degraded of all conditions, may that rule of universal application have some influence,
"As ye would that others should do unto you, do ye even so to
them."  From a feeling of attachment to his own property, and a
wish to defend it from the attacks of his neighbour, may he learn to
have respect for the property of others; and thus, from a sense of
property, may there emerge a sense of justice.
This, however, is an important step in the progress of morality;
and we shall find that it is immediately followed by a step as important in the march of economic improvement.
An example has been shown of the good effects of foresight, and
property is now in some degree regarded; it therefore becomes a
general custom  among the savages to hoard up the overplus of a
successful hunting or fishing expedition, in order to insure against
future emergencies. By and by they perceive, that, if they can but
keep the cattle which they take, alive, they thus acquire a kind of
property, which not only furnishes a safeguard against future want,
but which has also this peculiar advantage, that it is continually increasing. In a little time they find that this live stock, which is
kept at home, multiplies so rapidly, as not only to enable them to
bear out against the failure of a single expedition in fishing or the
chase, but to render them independent of fishing and the chase altogether. Though they can now live without engaging in the toils of
their old occupations, and are no longer obliged to roam through the
woods in search of subsistence, yet they are by no means idle; their
incresinfg flocks and herds demand every day more and more of
their attention. Instead of hunters and fishers, they now become
shepherds; and, to a state of most degraded barbarism, there now
succeeds the pastoral condition, greatly more improved indeed than
the former, yet still very far removed from a state of perfect civilization.
The pastoral condition is one that has been a favourite theme with
the poets of every age and nation; and in their writings it has been
pictured forth as a state of purest simplicity and most perfect innocence. Green fields, and flowing streams, and cattle browsing upon
their banks, furnish indeed very beautiful imagery for poetry, and
naturally lead us to imagine how simple, and how innocent their
nmanners must be, who are conversant with objects so pure and so




368                     APEND IXo
peaceful. But there is a fearful contrast between the face of external nature, and the heart of man. The curse that was pronounced
upon the ground, hath still left many a lovely trace of Eden behind
it; but that withering blight which hath gone forth over the face of
our moral scenery, hath left scarce a vestige in our world, of prim.
aeval sanctity and justice.
Notwithstanding all that has been said or sung about the happiness, and the innocence of the pastoral state, it seems to stand in
the scale of morality and civilization just where we have placed it,
at a very small distance from the grossest barbarism.
When once a number of savages have turned from the ruder occupations of fishing and the chase, to the tending of cattle, they find
that the fodder of the place where they dwell is soon consumed.
They are thus obliged to proceed in search of new pasture ground,
which again is soon exhausted and left in its turn. In this wandering condition they find it necessary to form little bands or tribes,
both for the purpose of self-defence, and also to enable them to extirpate or expel from their territories, the inhabitants of such districts, as may seem most fit to be converted into pasture ground for
their cattle. The morality of these pastoral tribes seems much akin
to that which is generally to be met with in a band of highwaymen,
who must necessarily keep up some semblance of justice among
themselves, but whose business it is to plunder everybody that does
not belong to their gang. This character but ill accords with that
which is assigned to them  in the high-wrought descriptions of pastoral poetry; but unfortunately it is their real one.  Mr. Malthus,
in his work on population, describes the Scythian shepherds, as actuated by a most savage and destructive spirit; and as an exemplification of this, he tells us that " when the Moguls had subdued the
northern provinces of China, it was proposed, in calm and deliberate
council, to exterminate all the inhabitants of that populous country,
that the vacant land might be converted to the pasture of cattle."
The economic state of pastoral nations, seems quite as miserable
as their moral condition. There is still but little of prudential restraint to confine the population within the limits of subsistence;
and still the checks, as in the case of utter barbarism, are vice, and
famine, and pestilence, and war.
It is long before, by that gradual process of improvement which




ESSAY ON THE CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 369
is going on in every society, the morals of such a people are so far
improved, as to give security sufficient for carrying on the operations
of agriculture: and it is still longer, perhaps, before by their establishment prejudices are so far removed, as to induce them to change
the employment of the shepherd for that of the husbandman. But
when once this period arrives, improvement advances apace. The
land begins to yield a rent to the landlord. The principle of the
division of labour begins to operate. New inventions are consequently made, and the productive powers of labour are almost infinitely increased. A knowledge of science and the arts is disseminated, and then follow in their train all the blessings of civilization
and refinement.
This process, tardy as it is, seems to be the natural one, by which
a society advances from a state of barbarism to a civilized condition,
and through the whole of it may we behold how the moral and the
economic blend together, and mutually influence and. affect each
other. And it is a fact, not the least deserving of our notice, in this
beautiful process, that though the moral and the economic are mutually subservient the one to the other, yet it is the moral, generally
speaking, which takes the lead. Where, by the gradual progress of
improvement, a change is effected in the moral condition of a community, it is instantaneously followed up by a corresponding change
in its economic condition. And not one step can be taken in the
path of economic improvement, till the way has first been prepared
b)y the advancement of a purer morality.  This fact, we apprehend,
if properly appreciated, would lead to the solution of a problem in
economic science, which has long engaged the attention of every
genuine philanthropist. It is a melancholy fact, that a very large
portion of the human family are still slink in the depths of utter
barbarism, or but a few steps removed from it: and the problem is,
-to civilize them.  We are aware that nature herself would accomplish the task in the lapse of ages, but the question is, cannot
we hasten her operations?  It is extremely natural to suppose, and,
accordingly, it has been the opinion of most of the philosophers of
our day, that the way to solve this important problem, is to begin
directly by teaching the barbarians the arts of civilized life. If,
however, there be any truth in our remark, that the moral precedes
and paves the way for the economic in the natural progress of so



870                     APPE NDIX.
ciety, there is a very strong presumption that we must observe the
same order, when it is our wish to hasten this natural progress.
And if this be the case, we should be prepared to expect, that the
plan we have mentioned, however well it promised as a theory,
would prove unsuccessful when brought to the test of actual experiment. And it has accordingly proved so. A class of men, ewho
have ever stood among the foremost in the enterprises of philanthropy, have made an attempt, upon this plan, to civilize the Indian
tribes of North America: but so far as we have heard, their efforts
have proved unsuccessful. Nor need we wonder that such has been
the result of their operations. However zealous they may have been
in their endeavours, they have been working at the wrong end of
the lever.  The way one would think, were, first, to elevate the
moral feeling of the barbarian; and then, having thus paved the
way for economic improvement, to superinduce those instructions
which might hasten the progress of civilization and refinement. On
this plan, too, the experiment has been tried, not in one country, or
among savages of one disposition; but the arena of its operations
has been chosen from every latitude in either hemisphere of our
globe, - from the frozen regions, encircled by the Northern Sea, to
the distant islands of the Southern Ocean: and wherever the experiment has been fairly tried, it has been universally attended by a
greater or less degree of success. And yet, strange as it may seem,
the originators of this plan have been laughed at as enthusiasts; and
they who have devoted their lives to carry it into execution, and who
have told of its success, have been reviled as hypocrites and liars.
And that, not because the plan has failed in its operations, or because there has not been sufficient evidence of its success, but
because of the seeming insignificancy of the means by which this
mightyi  work is achieving. It is because they are not the philosophers of this world who are its executors, but those whom the philosophers of this world too often despise. It is because they are not
the manuals of philosophy which have guided its operations, but
that book which philosophers have too frequently rejected.
But we shall be very much deceived, if we imagine that all that
can be done for a country, is to civilize it; and that, after this has
been effected, the comforts of this life are secured to every indlividual
within its uorders. Such, indeed, is the vast increase in the produc



ESSAY ON THE CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 371
tive powers of labour, that the very lowest member of a civilized
community, has a greater coimmand over the comforts of life, than
the prince of any savage nation. But even in a civilized community
do we find much of economic wretchedness. After we have succeeded in solving the problem, " to civilize a society," there still renmains to be solved another economic problem of the last importance;
and one which has long occupied the attention of philanthropists,
both in our own and other civilized nations. It is to elevate the
condition of the poor.
In the attempts which have been made, in our own country, to
solve this problem, and in what we consider the only effective method
of accomplishing this task, do we think that we have several beautiful illustrations of the way in which the rnoral and the economic
mutually influence and affect each other; and to this subject, therefore, we propose chiefly to direct our attention in the remainder of
this essay.
After the division of labour has allotted to each individual his
peculiar employment, and stock has been accumulated, and land
appr'opriated, the inhabitants of every society are divided into three
grand classes.
The first consists of those, who, by the labour of their hands, work
up commodities both -for their own consumption, and that of the
other classes, and are thus the originators of the whole wealth of the
society. The second class consists of those, who, in virtue of a capital, which either they or their progenitors have accumulated, are
enabled to furnish the labouring class with the implements of their
industry, and to support them till the produce of their labour finds a
market: and who, in return for these important services, lay claim
to a part of the produce of their labour. The third class consists of
those who, in virtue of a possessory right, lay claim to the earth,
that great implement of industry, and who derive a revenue by lending out this implement to the other classes.
On taking an abstract view of these three classes, we should least
of all expect, that that class should be the poorest which furnishes
the wealth of the whole society. Experience, however, teaches us
that that class of the community who do most, are the worst rewarded; while they who do little, are in comfortable circumstances;
and they who do least, are overflowing in wealth.




872                     APPENDIX.
It has, accordingly, been almost universally the custom to declaim  against landlords and capitalists, as if they were the authors
of all the misery which exists among the working classes: as if it
were their avarice and their injustice which had wrested from the
most useful class of the community, that wealth which their own
hands so laboriously had earned.  But it is not the landlords
who are the authors of this misery; it is not the capitalists who
are the authors of it: in very deed, it is the labourers themselves
who are the authors of it. Were but their manners virtuous, and
their habits prudential, they might bid proud defiance to their
haughty superiors, and might refuse to treat with them but on honourablo terms. They, and not their employers, are the arbitrators
of their wages.  But it is the vices to which they are wedded,
which, like the false mistress of Samson, have betrayed to their enemies the secret of their strength: it is their own improvident
habits which have brought them  down from  that lofty vantageground which else they might occupy, and have placed them at the
nmercy of their employers: it is their own over-grown numbers
which have reduced them to the point of starvation, and have thus
compelled them, like the inhabitants of a blockaded city, who are
hard pressed by the horrors of a famine, to submit to any terms,
however humiliating, which their masters may be pleased to hold
out.
This miserable condition of the working class, when contrasted
with the ease and affluence of the other two, may not appear so
anomalous, if we but consider the matter a little more attentively.
There are comparatively few who are born heirs to fortunes or landed
property, and still fewer who acquire either, by dint of their own
exertions; but, on the other hand, many who lose both by carelessness or extravagance.  The working class is thus, not only naturally
by far the most numerous, but is continually exposed to the overflowings of the other two. It requires an effort to resist the force
of the current, which carries downward, and the most strenuous
exertions seldom prove successful in the attempt to move upward
against it.  The demand for labour, however, is necessarily limited;
and it is the eager competition which takes place among labourers,
for subsistence, which is the cause of the miserable condition of the
working classes.




ESSAY ON THE CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 373
This misery has attracted the notice of our legislators, and an
attempt has been made, on their part, to relieve it. But in this attempt they have committed the same error as those philanthropists,whom we formerly mentioned as having made an unsuccessful effort
towards the civilization of the North American Indians. They have
wrought at the wrong end of the lever. They have not adverted to
the fact, that it is m )ral derangement which is the cause of economic
misery; and that, therefore, in every improvement, the moral must
take the precedency of the economic. Their experiment, accordingly,
has hitherto not only failed, but has tended to aggravate the evil
which it was meant to cure.
The greatest expedient by which it has been attempted to relieve
the misery of the working classes, is that system of legalized charity,
which is enforced, by what are usually called, the poor laws of England. We give credit to the benevolent feeling which prompted the
enactment of those laws. It was a zeal in the cause of philanthropy
which dictated the measure; but, unfortunately, it was a zeal not
according to knowledge.  Our legislators seem, in this instance,
to have acted like that physician, who should administer water to
allay the thirst of a patient in a dropsy, and thereby increase the
virulence of the disease, for the sake of giving the sufferer a few
moments of temporary relief.  When the Parliament of England
framed the system of English pauperism, they were guilty of two
inadvertencies. In the first place, they did not advert to the nature
of the evil which it was their object to cure; for, had they but discovered its cause, they would at once have perceived that it was
their business to set to work in a very different way; to remove, if
possible, the cause of the evil, with the full assurance that the removal of the evil itself would be the necessary consequence; and
aware, that while the cause of the evil continued in full operation,
all their attempts to remove the evil itself would prove utterly vain.
In the second place, they forgot that that same compassion which
dictated their well-meant exertions, was not confined to them alone,
but glowed as fervently in every English bosom. The first of these
things our legislators did not perceive, or they would have conducted
the business in a very different manner. The second, they did not
advert to, or they would never have proceeded a single step in the
business at all.
32




374                     APPENDIX.
The present system of English pauperism has been productive of
two very great evils, arising from these two inadvertencies of its
originators. In the first place, it has prevented the operation of
those effectual remedies which nature has provided for the relief of
existing misery. And in the second place, it has contributed very
much to add to the numbers of the wretched.
The first and greatest of those remedies which nature has provided
for the relief of existing misery, is the relative affections. The filial
and parental affections are perhaps the strongest and most universal
instinct we know of. They have been implanted in us by a wise
Creator, for the most important ends, and were we altogether deprived of them, society could not exist.  They are not confined to
man alone, but are shared with him by all the tribes of animated
nature; so that, to deprive him of these affections were to sink him
below the level of the inferior creation. Yet this, to a certain extent at least, is the effect of English pauperism. It is the helplessness of tender infancy and childhood, and of decrepit old age, which
calls into action, with all their vigour, the family affections. The
poor laws, however, have provided both for the helplessness of youth,
and the infirmity of age, and have thus contributed to burst asunder
the strongest and tenderest ties of our nature. Nor is this an assertion that is unsupported by facts. There are instances in which a
parent has actually disclaimed his own children, and has told the
overseer of the parish that it is none of his business to provide for
them; that the parish must find work for them, or support them, if
it cannot.
If the poor laws have extinguished those natural affections which
subsist between members of the same family, we cannot expect that
they have left uninjured those mutual sympathies which reciprocate
between the inhabitants of the same neighbourhood; far less those
more distant expressions of kindness which  descend upon the
wretched from the coffers of the rich.
But were this all the mischief the poor laws had done, there might
still be found some to advocate the cause of pauperism. It might be
argued for this system of legalized charity, that if it has destroyed
the natural remedies for existing misery, it has substituted in their
place an artificial remedy, equally effective; that a provision for the
distressed is still as sure as before, though it flows through a different channel.




ESSAY ON THE CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 375
It were but a silly excuse for complicating a clock or a watch with
a great deal of intricate mechanism, that the additional work had
the wonderful property of rectifying those defects of which itself was
the cause, and that the instrument answered its end every whit as
well as it did before. But even such a defence, weak as it is, cannot
be advanced for English pauperism.
The evils which we have mentioned, are, after all, but the least
which pauperism has effected. Not only has it prevented the operation of those remedies which nature has provided for existing misery,
but it has actually increased this misery. Its regulations, by insuring against the wretchedness which they generally occasion, have
thrown down those barriers which naturally restrain from vice and
imprudence. Imprudence qualifies an individual for receiving parish
support; and vice, at least, does not disqualify us. For the first of
these positions there is sufficient evidence in the fact, that single
persons, when the overseer has refused to enrol them on the list of
paupers, have flatly told him, that if he do not give them the usual
parish allowance, they will go away and marry, and thus compel the
parish to support, not only themselves, but also their families. Of
the latter position, that vice is no disqualification, we have a most
palpable illustration, in the case of an individual, who on the overseers refusing to give him any support at all, on the ground of his
possessing some property of his own, most impudently threatened to
go to the next ale-house, and there spend his all in dissipation, in
order that he might more effectually burden the parish by compelling it to give him a full allowance.
But the greatest mischief of all, perhaps, of which pauperism has
been the cause, is, that it not only adds to the numbers of the miserable, by destroying the prudential habits of a great part of the commnunity, but that it deteriorates the economic condition even of those
whose confirmed habits of sobriety and industry have withstood its
baneful influence. The composition of wages with parish allowance,
is perhaps the most mischievous part of all this mischievous system.
If our legislators did mean to give the poor a title to legal support,
it were better far, that in every instance, they had made the parish
allowance sufficient to maintain the pauper entirely, and that they
bad never had recourse to the ruinous experiment of compounding
this allowance with the ordinary reward of labour.




876                    APPENDIX.
In this case all the evils we have already mentioned, would no
doubt have followed, but there is one very great evil, which would
have been in a great measure prevented, the reduction of the wages
of the independent part of the working classes.
In the present state of things, let a man be ever so industrious,
and ever so sober, and ever so prudent, it is absolutely impossible
for him to better his condition, so long as pauperism sends forth her
myriads of labourers to compete with him at any price, however low,
which the employer may choose to offer. It is true, that the working classes have the power of regulating their own wages; but it
is not one individual, or a number of individuals, who can effect
this. It requires a combination of, at least, a very considerable portion of the labouring community; and to this most desirable of all
ends, pauperism presents a most insuperable obstacle.
But we have, perhaps, entered too much into detail, in enumerating the evils of a system, with regard to whose mischievous tendency,
every body seems now to be perfectly agreed. It requires not now
a well argued representation, to convince people of the evils of pauperism. It has long been felt, experimentally, to be the scourge of
our nation. The question is not now, - Should the poor laws be
abolished? but, -Can they be abolished with safety?  And, if so,
How is this most desirable end to be accomplished?  It must be
palpable to every one, that the poor laws of England are now so
enwoven into the very constitution of society, and so amalgamated
with the manners of a very considerable portion of the people, that
a sudden repeal of them would be an experiment attended with the
most dangerous consequences. There is every reason to fear, that
were the Parliament of Great Britain, by a single act of their authority, at once to disinherit every pauper of his wonted allowance,
the result might be nothing less than a rebellion; and that the precipitancy of. such a measure could scarce fail to land us in all the
horrors of internal commotion. In attempting the cure of a disease
so virulent, and which has its seat so deep in the constitution of the
society, the greatest care must be taken, lest, in the attempt to extract the part that is diseased, we pierce the very vitals, or let flow
the life-blood of the body politic. If pauperism is ever to be abolished, it must be by a gradual process. The abolition of the poor
laws must be the work. not of a day, but of months and of years.




ESSAY ON THE CONDITION  OF SOCIETY. 377
It must, in fact, be a work of prevention, rather than of cure. It
were cruelty, -it were madness, to snatch their wretched pittance
fromn the present dependants on the vestry. The present race of
paupers must be permitted to die away, in the quiet possession of
their rights: and it must be made the main concern, not to cure the
evil which exists, but to prevent the evil which threatens.
The whole system of pauperism may, we think, be illustrated by
the case of a machine, which has gone into disorder, and whose
errors are attempted to be rectified by one who is unacquainted with
its internal mechanism. We shall suppose that the machine is a
watch, and that, from some cause or other, it does not keep time.
The most palpable method of rectifying this error, which would
occur to one that was ignorant of its cause, would be, to move backward or forward, as the case might require, the hands on the dialplate. But it would soon be evident, that this was but a temporary
remedy, and that the index of the watch, in a short time deviated
as far as ever from pointing out the real hour. Temporary, however, and withal troublesome as this remedy undoubtedly would be,
it might come, by frequent repetition, to have at least the semblance
of efficiency. And yet might it happen, that this continued application of external force to the hands of the dial-plate, was, all the
time, doing violence to the internal mechanism of the watch; and
thus, instead of diminishing, was continually increasing the real
cause of the evil. Let us now suppose, that the watch is put into
the hands of one who is intimately acquainted with the construction
and arrangement of all its parts; and let us try to perceive, wherein
the method which he takes to rectify its movements, differs from
that which the first individual pursued. The existing error, he will
treat just as it had been treated before: he will apply an external
force to the hands of the watch. But he will not be satisfied with
this. He will search amid the intricacies of the internal mechanism, for that which has been the cause of the error; and it may be
by a slight touch of the regulator, he will effectually prevent the
recurrence of the error in time to come.
Now it has thus happened with the vast engine of the community: its mechanism  has been deranged, -and without searching
for the cause of this derangement, it has been attempted to rectify
it by the application of an extraneous remedy. This remedy was
32 *




378                     APPENDIX.
found to effect only a temporary cure, and accordingly it was frequently repeated. It is now found, however, that this continuous
application of external force, has tended to derange more and more
the internal mechanism of this mighty engine.  So fearfully has the
evil increased, that every one now perceives that some new method
must be adopted. But, there is a dread, lest, if we all at once give
up this external rectification, which confessedly, however, is every
day augmenting the cause of the evil, this mighty machine may go
into utter disarrangement.  There is then a dilemma, and either
alternative seems attended with the most dangerous results. The
only way, which seems at once safe and effectual, is to proceed, as in
the case of our illustration; to treat the existing evil as it has been
treated all along, but to prevent the future evil, by an alteration in
the inner mechanism of the machine. And it is interesting to observe, that the analogy holds still further. As in the case of the
watch, a very slight alteration of the regulator may be sufficient to
counteract a very great deviation from the truth in the hands of the
dial-plate; so, in the case of a community, the cause of the economic misery which exists among the working classes, is, after all, but
slight, and conseq.uently can be easily removed.
From these observations, it appears, that there are two grand
points which must be kept in view, in any attempt to abolish the
system of English pauperism. First, that the abolition of the system should be so complete, that no future amendment might be required; and yet, that in the second place, it should be so gradual as
to cause no sudden disrupture. We may just briefly remark, without entering into details, that both these points may be attained by
a mode of policy similar to that which has been employed with regard to the enclosure of English commons. It is interesting to observe, how, on the abolition of pauperism, the relief which nature
has provided for misery, begins again to operate; and those numerous fountains of benevolence, which had been frozen up, under its
cold and cheerless influence, again begin to flow. And still more
interesting is it to observe, how soon our population will shake off
that lethargic indifference about the future, which the provisions of
legalized charity so long have fostered; and, how soon prudential
restraint will again reduce the numbers of a community, whose overgrown size has been the great cause of their misery.




ESSAY ON THE  CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 879
But we are not so sanguine in our expectations, as to suppose that
the abolition of pauperism would procure for the working classes,
all the ease, and all the comfort, we could desire to see them possessed of. We assuredly do suppose, however, that by its abolition,
a mighty obstacle would be removed which at present destroys the
effectiveness of those means which are employing to accomplish this
most desirable end. It is well, perhaps, that the evils of pauperism
are continually increasing; for this is a circumstance which ensures
it speedy abolition. The system cannot work much longer. Things
must soon come to a crisis. And what our legislators are now unwilling to do, at the instigation of reason, they will soon be compelled to perform by the power of an irresistible necessity.
Besides the system of pauperism, there are yet two other obstacles which have hitherto stood in the way of those philanthropic
exertions which are now making in every quarter, for elevating the
condition of the working classes. The first is, the law against combinations of workmen, for the purpose of raising their wages. The
second is, the want of a small capital among the operatives, to enable them to stand out till their masters may accede to their terms.
Happily the first of these obstacles is now removed; and an attempt
has been made to remove the second, which bids fair to prove successful. For the repeal of the combination laws, the labouring
classes are indebted to the enlightened policy of the present age,
which has at length taught our legislators, the absurdity of compelling an individual, in a country which boasts of its liberties, to
sell his labour at a price which can barely supply him with the necessaries of life, and all for the purpose of keeping up the wealth
and the dignity of his more affluent fellow-countrymen. For an
attempt to remove the second obstacle to which we have alluded, our
operatives are indebted to a zealous and philanthropic minister of
the Church of Scotland.
This gentleman has succeeded in establishing, in his own parish,
and in several other parts of the country, those admirable institutions, which are now beginning to be generally known, by the name
of Saving Banks; institutions where the humble shilling of the labourer is received, with as much thankfulness, and tendered back to
him when demanded, with as much promptness and affability, as is
the most valuable deposit of his wealthy employer. It is a very re



880                     APPENDIX.
markable coincidence, and one which augurs well for the future
prospects of the labouring classes, that these two circumstances
should have occurred, as if to give them every opportunity of profiting by their elevated standard of enjoyment, just at the time when,
by means altogther different, it was in contemplation to elevate that
standard. These means are now beginning their operation; and
there is reason to expect, that the opportunities of moral and scientific instruction will soon be patent to every individual in the society.
Among these means, we might enumerate our schools of arts, and
our reading societies for the instruction of the old; and our parish
and Sabbath-schools for the education of the young.
These are institutions which have already been productive of the
most salutary results, and of whose beneficent influence we may yet
hope to behold more visible manifestations written upon the face of
our country.  By their instrumentality may we hope, even within
the short period of our life-time, to see the balance of society more
equally poised,- to behold our landlords retrenching a few of their
more extravagant superfluities, in order to supply more liberally,
with the comforts and conveniences of life, by far the most deserving class of the community.
On the whole there seems something like the dawning of a brighter
era in the history of our world. Whether we listen to those cheering reports, which are daily arriving from the friends of religion
and philanthropy abroad, or direct our regards to the animating
prospects of our home population; we cannot help thinking, that
we already descry the visible approach of a period which has long
been expected by the Christian, as well as dreamt of, and longed for
by the infidel philosopher; a period, which, by the plenty and the
happiness that shall be showered down upon every family, and by
the fidelity, and the justice, and the benevolence, that shall animate
every bosom, will outvie the high-wrought descriptions of a golden
age, which poetic fancy has imagined.
%We, at least, who believe in the divine inspiration of the Bible,
can look forward with joyful anticipation, to that time, when, in the
language of the prophecy which has foretold its coming, " the knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth as the waters cover the channel of the deep." And then, under the influence of that pure and
elevated morality, which Christianity shall universally diffuse, might




ADDRESS ON  MISSIONS.                        381
we confidently predict, that the economic condition of society shall
assume a brighter aspect than ever yet it hath worn, since that day
when man was driven from the blissful bowers of his first inheritance, and was condemned to earn his bread by the sweat of his
brow. Then shall those private animosities and heart-burnings,
which now embitter the joys of social intercourse, be for ever extinguished: and then, too, shall the tribes of the human family forget
those quarrels, which so long have been the scourge of this fair
world; " nation shall not rise up against nation, neither shall they
learn the art of war any more."
"ST. ANDREW'S, April, 1825.
"A truly admirable essay, replete with sound judgment, and
felicitous illustration; and announcing itself, at the first glance,
as worthy of the highest prize.
" THOMAS CHALMERS."
K.
ADDRESS TO  THE ST. ANDREW'S UNIVERSITY  MISSIONARY
SOCIETY, ON THE DUTY OF PERSONAL ENGAGEMENT IN THE
WORK OF MISSIONS.
I AM tired of arguing with the opponents of the missionary cause.
It is my intention this evening to address myself to those who profess to be its friends.
I can easily conceive a mind so biassed by prejudice, as to take a
distorted view of every argument that can be adduced on this, or
indeed on any other subject whatever; or, a mind moving in such a
sphere as never to have had these arguments fairly presented to it;
and, therefore, I am by no means disposed to speak roundly of all
who refuse to lend their aid to missionary societies, in a tone of unequivocal condemnation. But, lI do confess. I cannot imagine a




382                     A P P END IX.
mind which has deliberately weighed the arguments, and candidly
considered the facts of this import.ant subject, still refusing to embark its energies or its influence in some way or other, in the work
of evangelizinlg the nations of the earth. Indeed, the cause of missions has already met with such able defence, and the arguments
of its opponents have been so often refuted, that they themselves
seem to be almost sick of the very sound of their oft repeated olbjections. And, more than this, as if to show that the subject is quite
impregnable, even at those points which the adversaries have never
assailed, the advocates for the promugnuation of Christianity, like the
advocates for the trlth of Christianity before them, have even brought
forward fictitious objections of their own invention, in order to demonstrate with what perfect ease such objections could have been
met, had the adversaries of the cause adduced them.  And truly,
after the champions of the missionary cause have done their part so
well, it seems altogether needless still to keep up the debate with
those who seem determined to resist the appeals of the most cogent
reasoning, and even to set at nought the authority of human testimony. For of those who persist in denying the efficacy of missionary exertion, it may in truth be said, that they " will not believe the
great work which the Lord is working in these days, even though a
man declare it unto them." Surely, then, we cannot justly be
charged with a want of charity, when thus compelled to the belief
that after all, this pretended opposition of judgment on the part of
our adversaries, is nothing but a screen for the coldness and indifference of their hearts.
I turn, therefore, altogether at present from  those who oppose
these exertions of Christian philanthropy, and address myself to
the friends of missions.  I address myself to you, who, by being the
members of a missionary society, profess yourselves the advocates
and supporters of this benevolent scheme; and, more especially, to
those of you who, by entering on a course of study preparatory to
the duties of the Christian ministry, have thereby professed to devote yourselves unreservedly to the service of God, in the gospel of
his Son.
And I do not address you, my friends, for the purpose of again
repelating those unmeaning compliments that are wont to be presented to the subscribers and office-bearers of missionary societies,




ADDRESS ON  MISSIONS.                        383
at such meetings as the present. I do fear that there is too much
of the tone of this world's flattering adulation in the public language
of our missionary assemblies.  The doctrine of this essay may be
unpalatable, but I believe it to be true, that the members of missionary associations have absolutely done nothing, when we consider
the high demands of a cause whose object is the spiritual and moral
renovation of a world. Neither do I address you for the purpose of
picturing forth in the colouring of romance, the high devotedness of
missionary character, and lofty achievements of the missionary life.
This has often been done already; but like most other poetic descriptions, while it has excited the imagination, it has failed to influence the conduct. It may have caused him who listened, to indulge
in some fairy dream of' exile and martyrdom for the sake of his religion and his Saviour; while all the while it is quite possible that
not only he, but even the very person who drew the splendid picture, may have remained altogether unimpressed with the sober convictions of a duty his imagination had set, forth in such glowing
characters.  In reality, this has been the case. One cannot help
wondering, that of the many who have pleaded so earnestly for the
cause of missions, and have declaimed so eloquently concerning the
high dignity of the missionary enterprise, so few have been found
who were willing to go forth to the combat. It seems to me, that
while the enemies of missions have altogether despised and vilified
the missionary office, the advocates of missions have erred in the
other extreme, by regarding it with somewhat of a sentimental admiration, and by describing it rather as a work of supererogation
than of duty.
We have been too much accustomed to regard the missionary life
as an undertaking of most extraordinary magnitude, and as reserved
for a few of the most daring and devoted spirits in the race of living
Christians; and thus we easily succeed in pushing from ourselves
the duty of personal engagement. But we should do well to view
the matter apart from this borrowed splendour, which, by its glare
obscures rather than brightens the object of our contemplation.
After all the greater part of' the work must be accomplished by ordinary men. And I am persuaded, if we but take a candid and sober
view of the case, we shall begin to suspect that the matter may come
home in the shape of duty, even to ourselves. Great, as are the sacri



384                    APPEND IX.
fices the missionary makes, they are but small when we take into
account those sublime truths which we believe as well as he. And
it is of the very deepest importance that we should bear in mind
that those very sacrifices are represented in the Bible, not as the
fruits of an overreaching faith which may fall to the lot of, but here
and there, a mind of apostolic endowment; but as the test of simple
discipleship itself. " If any man come to me and hate not his father
and mother, and wife and children, and brethren and sisters, yea,
and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple." If by these, and
the remarks that follow, I can impress the mind of any one of you
with the duty of engaging in this great undertaking, let me warn
such an individual of the delusion of putting such convictions away
from him on the ground that this is a work far too high for him to
engage in; or under the deceitful impression that his shrinking from
such an enterprise is a sign merely that his faith is weak, and has
not yet acquired sufficient strength to warrant his engaging in a
work of such difficulty and self-denial. If the words of Christ be
true, which I have just repeated, to shrink from duty, even in the
face of all the trials that present themselves in the contemplation of
the missionary life, does not argue a weakness of faith merely, but a
want of faith. The man who is not ready to part with country and
even life itself, at the bidding of his Saviour, is not worthy of the
name of a disciple.
Now were it not that the minds of all of us, in regard to this subject, are under the influence of most overpowering and bewildering
prejudices, I am sure I should only have to lay before you the present state of missionary operations, in order to convince you of the
duty of taking the question into most serious consideration: Whether
you may not be called to engage in this work of evangelizing the
heathen. You give your assent to the duty of sending the gospel
to pagan countries, and by your subscriptions you profess yourselves willing to co-operate in the accomplishment of this grand
object. And so far, you have done well. You may have thought
you were doing all that was in your power for the furtherance of the
great design, and you may have never once suspected that there was
any call for greater services on your part. But if I can convince
you, that there is such a call, then, on the simple score of consistency, you are bound to listen to it, and to obey it. For, if this mat



ADDRES S S   N  MIISSIONS.                   285
ter demands our attention at all, it demands our deepest attention;
if it has a right to our services at all, it has a right to our most
devoted services. If you are not prepared to make greater sacrifices
in this cause than you have ever yet done, when manifestly called
to do so, then the little you have done will only serve most clearly
to condemn you. Others, who deny the importance, or disbelieve
the efficacy of the missionary project, may have some plausible excuse for standing aloof: they are at least consistent with their own
profession.  But, assuredly, it does convict us of singular hardheartedness towards our fellow-men, if our zeal for their conversion
can carry us the length of giving up a few paltry shillings, which
were not surrendered, it may be, at the expense of a single comfort,
and our zeal can carry us no further. Wye might pardon, though
we could not defend, the incredulity of the individual who would
not believe that some family near was in a state of starvation; but
we should utterly detest the sordid avarice and unfeeling apathy of
the man who by giving something, should just show us that he gave
credit to the tale of suffering, and who yet, by the worthlessness of
the trifle which he gave, should let us see that the wretchedness of
his neighbour had made no suitable impression on his heart.
Now, I say, there is a call for much more devoted services on your
part, than you have ever yet rendered in the work of evangelizing
the nations. If we are disposed to estimate the prosperity of the
missionary cause from the sums that are annually poured into its
coffers, we should indeed augur well of its success. But you are
aware, that after all, money is but a subordinate part of the apparatus.  It may be the main-spring of the machine, but it is not the
machine itself. The agents, who go forth to the work, are the effective part of the mechanism.  And what avails it, that we have
obtained a good moving power, if there be no machine to set it in
motion? A good will to the cause of missions has been on the increase, but there is every reason to fear that the spirit of missionary
zeal is on the decline. It has grown more fashionable of late to subscribe to missionary societies: in consequence of this, the revenues
of the different societies have been so increased, as would enable
them to extend their plans, could they but find a sufficient number
of zealous and devoted agents. But such is the languishing state
of missionary zeal, so little is there of what HloLne would call "a
33




886                     APPENDIX.
passion for missions," that it is with considerable difficulty the present stations can be supplied; and, in such circumstances, it is altogether vain to talk of extending the plan of missionary operations.
When first the proposal was made to send the heralds of salvation
to the ends of the earth, the Christian world received the proposal
with eagerness and joy.  A splendid equipment was fitted out, and
many were desirous of sharing the honours of the victory that was
so confidently and so ardently anticipated. But the novelty of the
missionary enterprise is gone; and it would seem that the spirit of
undaunted chivalry which a scheme of such lofty sublimity, and
such disinterested benevolence, at first excited, has languished, and
well nigh expired under the heavy pressure of those difficulties and
discouragements which an actual experiment has brought to light.
The Scottish Missionary Society is in want of labourers; the London Missionary Society is in want of labourers; the Church Missionary Society (to the shame of the churchmen of England be it told)
have for some time been compelled to gather the missionaries, whom
they send forth, from the other countries of Europe. And, to sum
up all, even among the Moravians themselves, so famed for the devotedness of their missionary zeal, that spirit of other days, which
could brook slavery and death for the sake of Jesus, would seem to
have died away.  Of them, it once could be said, that, no sooner
was a missionary station vacant, than there was an eager competition who should have the honour to supply it; for then it was counted
an honour, for the love they bore to Christ, to succeed to a dreary
station, amid eternal snows, or to fill the places of those who had
fallen by the murderous hand of the savages for whose sakes they
had left their country and their home. But now there is a difficulty
in finding persons willing to go even to stations of ordinary comfort
and ease. In this state of matters, what avails the increase of missionary funds? Do you not feel that there is a loud call for something more than mere subscriptions? And to whom can this appeal
be made, but to the members of missionary associations? And on
whom can it be urged home, more forcibly than on those who have
professed to surrender the M'hole energies of their minds and their
bodies to the promulgation of the religion of Christ?
This is a statement of facts, and such a statement, I am sure,
would be quite sufficient to call forth the willing offer of his services,




ADDRESS  ON  MI'SSIONS.                      887
from any one who believes in the efficacy of missionary exertion, and
who is not tied down by some peculiar circumstances to his native
land, were it not that the mind is driven from its convictions of.
duty, by prejudices and affections, the strongest that can influence
our nature —and I will even say, the purest that can oppose the
will of God. Accordingly, I have found in my own experience,
that even those who are most liberal in their donations to missionary
societies, and most active in spreading among their friends a spirit
of good will to this work of Christian philanthropy, immediately
abate their ardour, and turn upon another tack, so soon as the duty
of personal engagement is pressed home upon themselves, or even
upon any of their near relations. Those who are most strenuous in
their arguments for the general cause of missions, instantly start
objections to the proposal of themselves becoming missionaries. A
thousand plausible arguments immediately present themselves. Our
own country has much higher claims upon us, all are not yet converted here. Besides, the success of missionaries has not been very
great; and we think we can do more good by remaining at home.
Such arguments, when in the mouth of an opponent to the general
cause of missions, none so forward to answer, or so eloquent in refuting as they; and yet to the very same refuges do they betake
themselves, when we merely carry out a little further, and make a
new application of their own previous assertions.
Nor do I at all wonder at this, though I cannot apologize for it.
The ties which bind us to our country and our home, cannot be so
easily broken. The love which we bear to parents, and sisters, and
brothers, and a whole circle of affectionate friends, is perhaps the
strongest passion that has its seat in the human breast; and Christianity, far from impairing., refines and strengthens the attachment.
The land which gave us birth, and where our fathers lived before us,
and the companions of our youth, and the affectionate guardians of
our tender infancy, are objects which most, of earthly things, deserve
our love. There is but one, and only one Being, in the universe,
whom we are commanded to love with a stronger affection.  It is
little wonder then, that when feelings like these-so strong, that no
time or distance can ever efface their influence; and so pure, that
piety itself imparts to them a tone of deeper tenderness-that when
feelings like these exert an opposing influence, even the most devoted




388                    APPENDIX.
Christian should be startled at the first proposal of a duty which
speaks destruction to them all.
It is on this account that I feel the statement of facts I have laid
before you, may not be sufficient to call forth your services to the
work, which loudly calls for them, and in which you profess to take
an interest. It is only on this account that I feel that the statement
I have made needs to be enforced by arguments. For I believe,
that to a mind which could take an unprejudiced view of the matter,
no reasoning would be required to convince him of the urgency of
the appeal, and no argument, however strong, could add to the force
of the simple statement.
I feel, however, that it is necessary to reason with you. And the
main argument on which I would insist, is founded on the commandmnent of our Saviour; "Go ye and teach all nations,"  This has
often been repeated by the advocates of missionary exertion; and
though it may thereby have lost something of its freshness, it has
yet lost nothing of its force. I consider it still the strong hold of
the missionary cause. But I am inclined to take a more extended
view of the precept. Not only do I look upon this little verse as the
great foundation on which all arguments for missions must be received, - but as the only scriptural authority which we can have for
preaching the gospel at all. I can conceive many other inducements, which lead men in our own land to profess, or pretend to be
ministers of God. But I believe, that every truly Christian minister
in the land, must rest the whole authority of his commission on this
and similar commandments. Now you must all perceive the bear.
ing of this argument. It places our own country exactly on the
same footing with the other nations of the earth, - and it makes the
work of the missionary abroad, and the minister at home, one
and the same work.  The world is the field; and the preaching
of the gospel is the work to be accomplished. And it is only in as
far as Great Britain is one of the "all nations," specified in the
terms of the commission, that we have any warrant from scripture
to preach the gospel here. Grant me but this view of the subject,
and the question comes home with irresistible force. How comes it
that all the labourers should have contrived to cluster together in
one little corner of the vineyard? What special order has been
given by the Lord about this little island on which we dwell? Or,




ADDRESS  ON  MISSIONS.                       389
in what does the vast superiority of its claims consist? It is nothing to my argument, that in this country, an ecclesiastical establishment has poured forth its benefices over the land, and has connected with the profession of the Christian ministry, the comforts of
civilized life, and the enjoyments of a refined society, - or the opportunities of literary and scientific retirement. With the hirelings
that have crept into the church, at present, I have nothing to do.
Neither is it any thing to me, that numerous sectaries with which
some of us may be connected have spread themselves over the land,
and are struggling for the superiority. I have no sympathy with
the outcry that is made by each rival party, about the interests of
their cause. I know of no cause that demands the homage of our
hearts, and our services, but the cause of Christ. Now, strip our
country of these, and other accessory distinctions, which I think all
of you will admit, should have no control in giving it a higher claim
upon our Christian services, and then tell me wherein it differs from
other lands, in as far as the scriptural argument for the preaching
of the gospel is concerned.
I am persuaded, that with all our knowledge of geography, we
are accustomed, from irresistible prejudices, to rate the extent and
importance of our own country much too high. Now, in order to
dissipate this delusion, and give the subject a more manageable appearance, let us try if we can take a reduced sketch of the world,
diminishing every thing proportionally, just as a land surveyor finds
it convenient to draw upon paper a reduced representation of the
estate which he has been measuring.
Let us imagine, that instead of the world, a single country had
been pointed out by our Lord as the field of action. And, since we
are most familiar with our own land, let us just suppose that the
particular country specified, was the island of Great Britain: and
that, instead of the command to go forth into all nations, and preach
the gospel to every creature, - the order had been, to go throughout
all the counties of this island, and preach the gospel to every inhabitant.  I find, that on a scale which would make the population
of Great Britain represent that of the world, the population of such
a county as Mid Lothian might be taken, as a sufficiently accurate
representation of the population of our own land.
In order then, to have a just picture of the present state of the
33 *




390                     APPENDIX.
world, only conceive, that all who had received the above commission, somehow or other, had contrived to gather themselves together
within the limits of this single county. Imagine to yourselves, all
the other divisions of Scotland and England immersed in heathen
darkness; and that by these Christians, who had so unaccountably
happened to settle down together in one little spot, no effort was
made to evangelize the rest of the land, except by collecting a little
money, and sending forth two or three itinerants, to walk singlehanded through the length and breadth of the country.
I shall be told, however, that illustration is not argument; and so
distorted have our views been on this subject, that you will be disposed to think this a perfect caricature of the matter. But I deny
that this is an illustration at all. It is merely a representation, on a
reduced scale; and I believe you will find it to be a correct representation of the state of the world. It is no argument against the
conclusions of the practical mathematician, that his calculations
have had to do, not with the very objects or doctrines themselves
about which he determines, but with proportional representations
of them which he has delineated. The very same thing holds here.
And if you but grant the correctness of my representation, then the
deductions made from it are every whit as conclusive, as if our minds
could so expand, as to do away with the necessity of the representation, and could gather their conclusions with as much ease fiom
the consideration of the objects themselves about which we reason.
You will permit me, therefore, to argue from the representation a
little further.
Were I to ask you what, in the case we supposed, you would imagine to be the duty of the ministers who had clustered within the
limits of a single county, when their commission embraced every
county in the land; you would at once reply, that they ought to
spread themselves over the face of the country, till every corner of
the field shared equally in the benefit of their ministrations. Now I
am almost afraid to transfer this question from the representation to
the actual case before us. Not, but that I believe I might most legitimately do so, but because I feel that I cannot carry along with me
the sympathies of the Christian world. In fact, I am arguing at
present for a much humbler effort, than the fair answer to such a
question would land us in. To return to our ideal field of opera



ADDRESS ON  MISSIONS.                         391
tion, let us s lnpose, that even the little band of itinerants began to
fail, and a difficulty was found to recruit their numbers.  Let us suppose, that the funds collected were sufficient to send forth more, if
ally could but be found who were willing to go. Let us try if we
can fancy any thing in the shape of an excuse, which our professed
evangelis s could allege, for still refusing to quit the little territory
to wMhich tley had all along so pertinaciously adhered.  Some might
say, they did not think it was the proper time to go forth. You
might meet them with the unlimited command of their Master, and
especially his promise, to be always with them in the work to which
the commandmllent called them.  Others might say, they did not
think those who had gone forth already, had taken the right plan,
and might even urge, in support of this, that actually the two or
three preachers who had been sent forth had not yet converted the
country. The direct reply to such, would be, - The error of another
is no apology for your disobedience. It is only a louder call to you
to fulfil the c(mminand of your Lord, by some plan which will be more
agreeable to his will. Such excuses might be framed by those who
hadl never co-operated in the little effort that had been made. But
can you conceive, that those who had given their entire consent to
the plan itself, and had been zealous in sending forth others, could
have any imaginable excuse for shrinking back, when their personal services were called for?  Let us try if we can invent any.
They might tell us, there were yet many within the little sphere
they hiad allotted to themselves who were yet unconverted.  They
minght bear witness to their own negligence, by telling us, that actua;lly there were still some within their own sphere of action, to
wh1om the message they had received from the Lord, had never been
fairly delivered. They might express their apprehension, that if they
began to go forth over the face of the country, the little spot which
they had hitherto cultivated with so much care, might hereafter be
overlooked in the wide field which lay before them, and come to be
altogether neglected. And some might even have the effrontery to
tell us, that they quite felt the urgency of the call, to go forth over
the face of the country; but for their part, they had rather stay at
home, and persuade others to go.
You feel that there is something ludicrous in the very description. There is such an utter discrepancy between the command.




392                    APPENDIX.
and the professed obedience of it; between the work to be performed, and the scantiness of the means that are expected to accomplish
it; between the obvious call of duty, and the frivolous excuses by
which they are evaded. Now, would this were but an imaginary
picture; but it must recommend itself to all of you as too true a
representation of the present state of the world, and of the kind of
obedience which the disciples of Christ render to the last command
of their Lord and Saviour.
I have thus tried to set before you, and illustrate my main argument, that the world is one field, and consequently that every minister of Christ should be ready to go to that part of the field, wherever
it be, which stands most in need of his services. You must perceive
that we have taken it upon ourselves to circunmseribe most unwarrantably the limits of our commission; and that in these days nothing adequate to the fulfilment of our Lord's command has so much
as been attempted. I have pressed upon you the loud demand that
there is at present for labourers, in order to maintain even the comparatively feeble effort which the Christian world has of late put
forth; and you perceived that the objections to this appeal just
hinted at, appeared sufficiently frivolous.  I am aware, however,
that on these, or similar objections, the whole force of your refusal
to obey this call, must rest; and, therefore, I feel it necessary to
take each of them singly into more serious consideration.
I shall say nothing concerning the argument that the heathen are
not in a fit state for receiving the gospel, and other similar objections. These are adduced only by the opponents of missionary societies. I take it for granted at present that I am addressing those
who give their full assent to the duty of sending the gospel to the
heathen, and who give their decided approbation to the plans that
are in operation for the accomplishment of this grand object. The
arguments which I mean to consider at present, are those which are
urged by the supporters of missionary operations, when a demand
is made for their own personal services. Among the most prominent
of these, is the assertion, that all are not yet converted in our own
land, and therefore our own country has the first claim upon our
regard. The terms of the argument are very true, but the conclusion drawn from it I believe to be false. It is a lamentable fact,
that so many in our own land are not under the power of the gospel.




ADDRESS ON MISSIONS.                         398
But why?  In by far the greater number of instances, because
they will not come unto Christ that they may have life. Have they
not had the message of mercy proclaimed to them, and what more can
the messenger do? H-Iave they not been plied, Sabbath after Sabbath,
with the call to repent and believe the gospel, and if they still remain impenitent, what more can man accomplish? Can we hope to
do more than apostles, with all their miraculous powers, and their
unwavering faith, could effect?  When the gospel was declared by
those extraordinary men who had trod this earth in the company
of their incarnate God; and who, after he left them, were visited
with the supernatural endowments of his Spirit, -rthe account of
their success is, that " some believed the things which were spoken,.
and some believed not." And as long as the Scripture doctrine of
election holds true, it will still be found, wherever this gospel is proclaimed, that some will receive the message, and some will most obstinately reject it. Far be it from  me to adduce the doctrine of
election as a reason why we should ever cease to ply with all our
earnestness, and admonish with all our tenderness, the most hardened
unbeliever, or the veriest scoffer at sacred things. But I am quite
warranted in adducing it, in order to show the fallacy of the expectation, that we shall ever be able, by any concentration of our energies to any sphere however narrow, to convert all who dwell within these limits, to the truth of the gospel. We do well to consider
whether by such expectations we be not opposing the purposes of
God. IHe has given us no reason to indulge the hope that he will
choose his people exclusively from our nation, although that nation
has been favoured very highly.  He has said that he will take one
of a city and two of a family; and it is said of the redeemed in
heaven, that they have been gathered " out of every kindred, and
tongue, and people, and nation."
But it may be said, that I am not giving a fair view of the case,
for that very many in our own land have never had the message of
mercy fairly proclaimed to them. This is too true, and a disgrace it
is to the ministers, and even the private Christians of Britain.   How
easily might the numerous evangelical ministers of the land, or at
least the evangelical ministers among the dissenters who are hindered by no ecclesiastical authority from preaching the truth where
they think it has not been fully declared: how easily, I say, might




394                    APPENDIX.
they dispel the ignorance that yet darkens the spiritual atmosphere
of this enlightened country? But, after all, I do not feel the force
of this claim when weighed against the claim of those who are
literally perishing for lack of knowledge. I do believe that every
inhabitant of our land has heard so much, as makes him utterly inexcusable if he be ignorant of the way of acceptance before God.
If he sits under a minister who perverts, or but imperfectly declares
the gospel, he has the standard of truth in his hand, and by the
Bible he can, and he ought to try the doctrine, whether it be of God.
If he have not a Bible himself, he has seen it in the possession of
others, or at least he has heard that there is such a book, which
many believe to be a revelation from Heaven. And, finally, even in
the haunts of the most abandoned depravity, where ignorance and
wickedness may have spread a gloom as dismal as the darkness of
paganism itself, even there the wretched inmates are still reminded
of a God and. a Saviour; if by nothing else, yet by the weekly return of a day of unusual stillness, and by the oft repeated and well
known invitations of the Sabbath bell. But when you urge as an
excuse for remaining in this land, that some within its borders are
yet ignorant of the terms of mercy, do you, indeed, mean to wander
from parish to parish, and illumine every dark corner on which the
light of truth has not yet shone? Or will you venture, where none
have dared to venture before you, within the receptacles of vice and
infamy, to proclaim the tale of a Saviour's sufferings to those who
may have never heard of his name? If you will not, or cannot do
these things, then this argument is no argument for you.
Closely connected with this objection, that all are not yet converted in our own land, there is the apprehension lest a spirit of
missionary zeal should damp the spirit of exertion at home, and
that our own country should suffer from our attention to foreign
lands. The spirit which excites this apprehension for the eternal
welfare of our countrymen, deserves the highest commendation.
But depend upon it the fear is quite unfounded. I am quite willing
to allow that our kinsmen according to the flesh have the first claim
upon our Christian sympathy. It is true that, as the messengers of
Christ, and as far as the command of our Saviour is concerned, the
world is all before us, and no country has any peculiar claim upon
our regard. But as men who are linked to those around us by bonds




ADDXRESS ON  MISSIONS.                       395
so strong as those of relationship, and all the other connections which
form the cement of civil society, there is no doubt something very
peculiar in the claims of our native land. To true patriotism I am
willing to allow all the eulogiums that poets and orators have heaped
upon it. The love of our country is a very noble affection. But
there is a thing which has been misnamed patriotism, which consists
not so much in loving our own country, as in despising and disregarding every other. But surely it but ill accords with the liberal
sentiment of the present age, to despise any brother of the human
family, because he has not sworn allegiance to the same sovereign
with ourselves; or because, forsooth, he happens to be separated
from us by some river and mountain, or imaginary political boundary. Time was, when in our own little country, every petty chief
was a monarch; and whatever may be the associations that romance
has gathered around these olden times, every generous mind must
look back with detestation and disgust on that narrow-minded spirit
of clanship, which could tie down the affections of an individual to
the few families that happened to bear the same name, or to serve
the same lord with himself, and which pronounced him the noblest
of his clan, who hated with the deadliest malice the whole world
besides. But what is this pretended patriotism but the dross of this
same detestable spiitit. We surely have not need to be told in this
age of enlightened liberality, that God has made of one blood, all
nations that are on the face of the earth.  And if the spirit of the
age cannot reclaim us, Christianity at least should reclaim us from
such bigoted narrowness. A spirit of true patriotism is in perfect
harmony with a spirit of the most extended liberality. Your benevolence must overflow the narrow channel, ere it can dilate itself
over a wider surface. Just tell me of a man that he is a general
philanthropist, and I can immediately conceive of that man, that
his family and social affections are stronger than those of other individuals. There may be exceptions to this rule, it is true; for it
is quite possible to find monsters in the moral world, as well as in
the natural. All I assert is, that it is the general tendency of an
extended benevolence to unite us in closer affection than ever, to
those objects which have a nearer relation to us. And, indeed, in the
late extension of our Christian philanthropy to other lands, this
principle has been most beautifully illustrated. Whence sprung our




896                     APPENDIX.
tract societies, our school societies, our itinerant societies, and the
other institutions that are now in operation for instructing the ignorant of our own land? They have all originated in the impulse that
was given to Christian philanthropy, by the formation of the Missionary Society.  The stream  of Christian benevolence, when it
sought its way to the ends of the earth, first filled and overflowed
the reservoir that had contained it. The very consideration of the
case of those who were further removed from them, made the Christians of our land take a deeper interest in the situation of those who
were connected with them by stronger ties. It is on this account
that I would have you to extend your views still further, till not only
would I have you think of our country as a little spot, when compared with the world, that so you may feel the close relationship
that exists between ourselves and our fellow-countrymen; but I
would have you think of this globe itself, on which we dwell, as but
one among the myriads that travel with it in their mighty journeys,
through boundless immensity. And then will you begin to feel that
the whole human race forms but one little family in the universe of
God.  We shall thus yet forget those little distinctions which the
ambition and avarice of man have made upon the face of our globe.
We shall feel ourselves to be denizens of this earth, and the inhabitants of the universe. We shall feel that we are united to our fellow-men by stronger ties than the indefinite relation which subsists
among all the creatures of God. Are we not united by the ties of a
common nature? Are we not involved in a common calamity, in
that we haye forfeited the favour of our God, -a calamity which,
for aught we know, may have happened to our race alone, of all the
families of the universe? And is not a common pardon offered, and
has not a common Saviour died for us all?
I have thus tried to answer the objections that spring from an
overweening partiality to our own country, and from the ignorance
and unbelief that still exists there. But by far the most triumphant
answer to all these arguments is founded on the authority of apostolic exaumple. Paul the apostle had a much stronger attachment to
his country than any modern patriot can boast. He wished himself
even accursed fiom Christ, for his brethren's sake, and yet he gloried
in being the apostle of the Gentiles. But there were feelings stronger
than patriotism, that bound the early disciples to the land of their




ADDRESS  ON  MISSIONS.                     397
fathers; feelings which none but an Israelite could experience. Their
country was the favoured land of heaven. Their countrymen were
the chosen people of God. And if any may urge as an excuse for
lingering in the land of their nativity, that all their countrymen had
not yet embraced the gospel, assuredly the apostles and early evangelists might have used this plea. But far different was their conduct. They thought it enough to have fairly offered the terms of
mercy to their countrymen, and when some rejected the message
which they delivered, so far from thinking this a reason why they
should still remain, they considered it as the very signal for their
departure. They thought that those who had never had the offer of
God's favour, had now a prior claim upon their regard; and they
addressed their countrymen in such language as the following: "It
was necessary that the word of God should first have been spoken to
you; but seeing ye put it from you, and judge yourselves unworthy
of everlasting life, lo, we turn to the Gentiles."
There is still one other argument, perhaps the most plausible of
all, against engaging in the work of missions, and to which I beg
very briefly to advert. It is, that in the present state of matters, we
can do more good at home than abroad. A minister in this country,
it is said, may make as many, and sometimes more converts, than
the missionary in a heathen country. And the question is triumphantly put, whether the soul that is converted at the distance of
some thousand miles from our land be more precious than the soul
which is converted in our own neighbourhood; and whether it be
not a matter of as great thankfulness and joy that a soul has been
delivered from a state of self-delusion, though living in a country
called Christian, as that a heathen has been turned from idols to
serve the living God. The argument has a great semblance of fairness, but I think we shall find it to be unsound.
In the first place, it is not true, that in general the success of ministers at home is greater than that of those who labour in heathen
lands. And, secondly, though it be allowed that the conversion of
a soul is not more acceptable to God, because of the place where the
conversion is wrought, yet there is much in the case of those who
first turn to the Lord from a nation of idolaters, that may well fill
our hearts with unusual joy and thankfulness, inasmuch as these are
theyfirst fr'uits of a hitherto uncultivated field, and may be regarded
34




398                    APPENDIX.
as the earnest of an abundant harvest. In the same manner, you
can easily conceive, how a few grains of wheat, though comparatively little worth in a cultivated country, might acquire an immense value in a new colony, where no other seed could be obtained.
Besides, there is much in preparing the way. We are not to suppose, that the conversion of a world is to be the work of one generation. The ground must be cleared, ere we can so much as sow the
seed, and this must be a season of toil, and difficulty, and discouragement.
You would perceive the fallacy of the objection now under consideration, in almost any case but the one before us. Let us suppose an accommodation of our Saviour's parable of the vineyard, to
the present circumstances of the world. Imagine to yourselves all
the husbandmen to have settled down in one little fertile corner of
the vineyard, and to have left all the rest with the soil unbroken,
covered with briars and thorns, and trodden down by the beasts of
the forest. When called to account for their negligence, you may
conceive them to answer: "Our fathers have planted vines, and
they have yielded fruit luxuriantly; and we truly thought, that we
were acting best for your advantage, in choosing that spot for our
labours, where the fruit was most abundant."  Who would not see,
in such a case, that their own ease had been consulted, and not
their master's interest?  And who could help the suspicion, that
they wanted to press into their own cup of the overflowing vintage?
I have thus tried to set before you the present state of the missionary cause, and the loud call which there is for efficient labourers. I
have stated to you the great argument, that the world is one field,
and that our Saviour's command is not fulfilled, so long as the distribution of his ministers over this field is so very unequal. And,
finally, I have tried to answer some of the objections that are made
to personal engagement in the work.
The matter, some time ago, presented itself very forcibly to my
own mind, and I felt that it at least demanded my serious consideration. As I have proceeded with my enquiries on the subject, the
difficulties seemed to have gathered thicker on the prospect, but the
convictions of duty have grown stronger too. The arguments for
personal engagement, seem to me to have acquired the strength of a
demonstration. I have, therefore, resolved, with the help of God,




ADDRESS ON MISSIONS.                         899
to devote my life to the cause; and I have only solemnly to charge
every one of you, who are looking forward to the ministry of Christ,
to take this matter into most serious consideration.
Some of you may think that I have not satisfactorily answered
the objections which mrray be urged against personally engaging in
the work, and other objections may possibly present themselves to
some of you. But I ask you, seriously to examine whether there
do not lurk under these objections, a want of devotedness to God,
and a secret love of the world. Why is it that there is an eager
competition for the ministerial office in our own land: where a comfortable salary is annexed to the preaching of the gospel? And why
is it that the love of country can be overcome, whenever any worldly
advantage is to be gained? But when the gospel is to be preached
where there is no reward, but the reward of winning souls to Christ;
and no honour, but the honour that cometh firom God; there alone
the ranks of the labourers are thin, and there deficiencies can with
difficulty be supplied. I mean no uncharitable insinuations respecting your motives, but I ask you, if too much reason has not been
given for the outcry that has been made against priestcraft, by the
worldling or the infidel!
Do not think I wish to press you into this service. It is a maxim,
which much experience has taught the Moravians, never to persuade
any man to become a missionary.  I have laid the matter before
you, and I leave it with your own conscience, as you soon must
answer before God.
I have the happiness to mention to you, that your respected secretary, of last year, has given himself to the work; and I know that
there are some present who have felt the urgency of the call.
I am not without the hope, that even from this unnoticed association, a little band of devoted labourers may be raised up, who shall
carry the name of their Saviour to the ends of the earth, and shall
meet in another world, to receive that high reward, which is reserved
for those who have left father, and mother, and sister, and brother,
and houses, and lands for Christ's sake, and the gospel's.:g.r       ~f        ~f       ~O 




400                    APPENDIX.
L.
ADDRESS TO A SOCIETY OF YOUNG MEN, WHIOM I WISH TO
MEET WITH ME, ONCE A WEEK, FOR RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION.
As I have called you together, my friends, with only a very general intimation of what we propose to do at these weekly meetings, it
may be necessary before we enter on the regular exercises, briefly
to explain to you the design and nature of the association, which we
are met this evening to form, and the motives which have induced
me to attempt its formation.
You know that the age in which we live is very gloriously distinguished by the exertions which are making for the religious improvement of the whole world. In former ages, Christians seem to have
had so much to do in providing for their own spiritual comfort, and
fleeing from the hand of the persecutor, that we cannot wonder if
they thought but little of the wants of others; or, thinking of them,
could do but little to relieve them. In these ages of ignorance and
bigotry, the flame of Christian benevolence was damped, but its fire
was not wholly extinguished; and when civil and religious liberty
were again restored, it burst forth with fresh and undecayed vigour,
from the grasp of that oppression which had for a while restrained
its energy. In these days, and in the happy country in which we
live, we see the principles of the gospel of peace left (to a certain extent at least) to their own free operation, no longer adulterated so
much as formerly, by the allurements of human ambition, and no
longer in any degree restrained by the threatenings of human power.
You live in a neighbourhood that may remind you of other days;
" Thte battle of Botlthwell Brig" is not yet forgotten. May it be remembered only to inspire us with thankfulness, that we need no
longer to fight for our religious privileges; but can each of us sit
under his own vine, and his own fig-tree, none daring to make us
afraid. At length men have happily begun to see, that carnal weapons are altogether unfit, either for the defence or furtherance of a
kingdom, which is spiritual; and the happy effects of unrestrained
liberty of conscience, and freedom of discussion, are universally felt




ADDRESS ON RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. 401
and acknowledged, by those who differ most widely in almost all
other opinions. In these circumstances, we see that spirit of Christian philanthropy again awakened in the breasts of modern Christians, which glowed so fervently in the hearts of the early believers.
The effects of religious liberty on the revival of Christian benevolence,
must forcibly strike those of you who are at all acquainted with the
history of philanthropy, during the last fifty years.
Within that short period, many institutions have been formed,
most diversified indeed in their modes of operation, and in the more
immediate purposes for which they are intended, but all having for
their grand and ultimate object, the glory of God, and the best interests of man. These institutions do not confine their operations. to one
country or to one class of individuals. The field of their benevolent
exertions extends over the whole habitable globe; and they embrace
within the range of their benefits, people of almost every rank and
every condition. We might enumerate among those intended for the
temporal and religious improvement of our own countrymen, Bible
Societies, whose operations are also extended to other nations, whose
object is to furnish with the word of God such as could not, or would
not otherwise obtain it; Home Missionary Societies, for sending
the preachers of that word to such as are without the range of an
evangelical ministry; Religious Tract Societies, for breaking down
religious publications into a suitable form, and furnishing them at
reduced prices, to encourage an extensive circulation; and had we
time to extend our attention to those institutions which have an
especial regard to the temporal welfare of our fellow-men, you know
well that we might introduce a lengthened list of charitable institutions, of which not the least interesting, or the least important, are
those Mechanics' Institutions, which are now forming in the most
populous parts of the country, and which bid fair to make the labouring classes tread upon the heels of their superiors, in the walks of
science and philosophy. But our business at present is with religious institutions, and we remark, that besides those we have mentioned, which are especially designed for those who are grown up to
manhood, we have also Sabbath-schools, with all their appendages,
for the religious instruction of children.
While these institutions embrace a field so vast, and a variety of
character so diversified, we cannot wonder if there should be some
34*; 




402                     A PPEND IX.
peculiarity of disposition or circumstances to which the operations of
none of them  are specifically adapted.  Such a peculiarity, I conceive, is to be found in the case of young people of our own age. We
are, generally speaking, too young to sympathize with the religious
feelings of the old; and on the other hand, we are too old to submit
to the discipline of institutions which are intended for the instruction of children.
When I say that we are-too young to sympathize with the religious
feelings of the old, let me not be misunderstood. Far be it from me to
say that we are too young to feel interested in the preaching of the
gospel; or even too young to unite ourselves to a Christian Church,
and to unite in the most sublime and delightful exercises of the
Christian sanctuary. If there be any age more suited than another
for receiving impressions of an unseen world, and boldly declaring
ourselves on the Lord's side, it is surely that age when the affections
are warm, the conscience not yet seared, nor the heart hardened by
the deceitfulness of sin. What I mean to say, is, that many of us
are not yet old enough, or may not think ourselves old enough to
talk familiarly of religion with our parents and their associates, to
enter into their views, and to sympathize with their feelings. Their
trials, their temptations, their besetting sins, and even their pleasures and their hopes in this life, are all different from ours. There
is a reverence about age that forbids too great familiarity: we feel more
at ease when talking to those of our own age; and especially on the
subject of religion, we feel a reserve when conversing with those who
are much older than ourselves. From the conversation of the young
again, this most important subject is often banished by mutual consent, as something gloomy; or at least too serious for youth, and
that may with great safety be put off to an age of greater gravity
and seriousness.  It thus appears that in all that period of our life,
when we have thrown off the habits of childhood, and have begun
to think for ourselves, the important interests of eternity are too
apt to be forgotten, and this important age seems to me not to be
provided as it might be, with religious instruction peculiarly adapted
to it.  It is a period when the Christian parent or the guardian
thinks he has done all he can. I-e has sown the good seed of instruction in the heart, and watered it, it may be with tears and
earnest prayers; and he thinks that he may now rest from his la



ADDRESS ON RELI GIOUS INSTRUCTION.  403
bours, that he may now abate his watchfulness. And how frequently
does it happen, that while he thus slumbers, the enemy comes and
sows tares aniong the wheat, and the instructor looks in vain in the
character of the man, for the fruits of those admonitions which he
had so carefully instilled into the mind of the boy. It is the design
of this meeting, my firiends, to keep you in mind of early instruction,
if you have enjoyed it, or to lead your attention to it now, if you
have not had the privilege of a religious education.
The period of youth is, in many respects, the most important
period of our life. It is the period when we are exposed to most
danger, and it is the period when the character is generally formed.
The opinions then received, are generally most pertinaciously adhered to through the rest of life.
It is not when the seed lies covered in the bosom of the soil that
there is the most danger from an unpropitious season; though even
then the parching heat may prevent its springing, or the too copious
rain may sour it in its bed; neither is it when the plant has attained its full maturity, and has been hardened by its exposure to
many a storm; but that is the period of the greatest danger, when
the tender germ has just left the kindly protection of the earth, and
is first exposed to the rude blast and the piercing cold.
And so it is with man, who has often been compared to the flower
of the field. It is not when he enjoys the protection of a father's
roof, and the advantage of parental instruction, though even then, a
bad system of education may ruin his after-character.  Neither is it
after he has been long exposed to the temptations of the world. The
character has in general, by that time, been formed, either in accordance with the practice of the world, or in opposition to these
practices. The danger is then past, though it may not have been
avoided. It is when the youth first goes out into the world that the
danger is at its greatest: it is then that every impulse, especially if
it be sinful, and therefore congenial to the mind, is apt to give a direction to the future character; and, consequently, that every
temptation is too apt to bring destruction along with it.
Some of you may have received a religious education, and may be
well acquainted with the doctrines of the gospel. But do not presume that, on this account, you are quite impregnable to the assaults




404                     APPENDIX.
of temptation, and may safely pass without a struggle, the most
critical period of life.
In some respects, the very fact of having enjoyed a religious education, makes that time more critically dangerous, when you begin
to enjoy it no longer. The plant that has been reared in a hot-house,
and is guarded from all that could injure its infant growth, suffers
more, when exposed to the inclemencies of the open sky, than that
which has not been so carefully nurtured.
To one whose childhood has been protected by pious parents, sin
is still by nature as agreeable as it is to others, and to him it has the
additional charm  of novelty.  To another, the wickedness of the
world has been gradually made known, as his mind gradually expands; but from such an individual, it is kept for a time almost secret, till at length it bursts all at once upon him. While under pious
parents, the current of temptation has been kept from rushing upon
him, but it has still been flowing on. It has not been diverted from
its course, it has only been dammed up. The barrier that has been
raised against it, cannot, however, stand for ever; it must, some
time or other, give way; and the longer we have enjoyed its protection, the greater will be the torrent that shall burst upon us, when
it is broken down. And if, m.y friends, it require an aid that is more
than human, to enable us to stand against the natural stream, to
preserve us against single, but successive temptations; surely when
the enemy rushes in like a flood, it is the Spirit of the Lord alone
that can raise up a standard against him.
Such are some of the dangers to which we are exposed from the
world around us. There are others, which arise from the state of
our own minds. We have begun to think for ourselves, and have
thrown off that servile deference to authority which influences the
minds of children. Formerly, for our parents to tell us anything
was sufficient evidence for our believing it. We thought they could
not be wrong; but we now perceive that we have a principle of reason within ourselves, by whose aid, we feel that we ought to inquire
into the truth of all our opinions.
Among others, our religious opinions come to be re-tried, and
there are many things that may lead us, on this most important subject, to false conclusions.
Our parents had told us of the purity and perfection of Christi



ADDRESS ON RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. 405
anity, and we fondly thought that they were living examples of that
perfection which they taught us to aim at.  But we have begun to
discover that they are not the perfect creatures we took them to be.
We thought them angels, and we find they are but men. We thought
them infallible, and we find they have their errors and their weaknesses, and their sins, as well as ourselves.  The character of a witness materially affects his testimony; and, as we have in general no
ground for the religious opinions of childhood, but the testimony of
parents, our altered views of their character are apt to occasion an
alteration in our views, of the unchanging truths which they have
taught us.  We so associate together their characters, and the doctrines which they delivered to us, that when we begin to think of
the former as weak and imperfect, we are too apt to conclude, that
the latter are weak and imperfect also.
If, when we are thus beginning to mistrust our early opinions, we
should hear of some who have bid fair in the Christian course, falling
away, it will add strength to our suspicion, that the doctrines of the
Bible may not be all that we thought them, and the natural aversion
which we have to the truths under review, will prevent us from perceiving the fallacy of the reasoning by which we have arrived at this
conclusion. When we have got thus far on the way to infidelity, the
very circumstance of our having received these opinions in childhood, will seem another reason for despising them. We shall associate them with the other fables which we then listened to with pleasure, and received with confidence; and we shall think that we believed the one, for the same reason that we gave credit to the other;
because of our inability to discover the gross deceits that had been
palmred upon us by those who had full possession of our confidence.
By a process of thinking, somewhat similar to this, we may come at
last to think of the devil and of hell, as we now do of the stories of
ghosts and witches, which once excited our alarm; and even to associate the inspired descriptions of heavenly glory, with gorgeous
fables of streets of gold, and palaces of emerald, which we have
read of in the volumes of eastern fiction.
Nor is this all the imaginary picture. God forbid that it should
be the fate of any of us. But, my friends, it is too true a sketch of
the feelings of not a few who have been brought up to acknowledge
the gospel, but whose repeated violations of the law of God, have




406                     APPENDIX.
driven them to the fearful expedient of pacifying conscience, by the
rejection of that book which the Almighty has been pleased to send
us, as a revelation of his will; and sometimes, by the denial of the
existence of the Eternal himself.
You see then, my friends, that at our time of life, we are exposed,
from a variety of causes, to great danger; and even if we have received a religious education, it alone will not guard us from the evil
that is in the world. The great question with each of us should be,
" How shall a young man cleanse his way?" The same inspired
writer who proposes the question, gives us also its answer; "By
taking heed thereto according to the word."  If we would take heed
to our ways according to the word of God, we must know what that
word is; and in order to this, we must not only read, but search the
Scriptures. The study of the Sacred Scriptures then, will form the
chief part of the business of our meetings. As to what plan we
ought to adopt in attempting this, I acknowledge to you I feel considerable difficulty. The persons whose attention I wish chiefly to
engage, are not children, or I should at once decide upon prescribing
a passage to be committed to memory, and examining them on what
had been thus prepared, with a view to interest the scholar in its
meaning. But you are not children, and I wish to treat you as men.
If any of yourselves have any plan to propose, I shall be glad to
listen to it, and consider its merits.
In the mean time I shall humbly propose the plan which seems to
me most eligible. I shall propose a certain subject, and ask such
of you as choose to search the Scriptures, for passages connected
with it. These you will mark, and be prepared to read. If any
difficulty occurs to any of you in the passages you meet with, I shall
be glad to explain it if I can; or, if not, to take it into consideration. Remarks on the different verses may occur to me as you read,
which I shall make in as plain and familiar a manner as possible.
I shall study at home the same subject which you are considering,
and shall choose some passage connected with it, from which, after
we have gone over your passages, I propose to deliver a very short
address.
Let me remind you, however, that all we can do to obtain a correct knowledge of the Scriptures, and to attend to our way according to the dictates of inspired wisdom, will prove utterly vain, un



ADDRESS ON RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. 407
less we are assisted with power from on high -unless we are enlightened by that Spirit, whose office it is to take of the things of
Christ, and show them unto men. The most far-sighted and acute
discerner of earthly things, is a blind man with regard to divine
things. Let me entreat you then, seriously and fervently to offer
up the petition we have read this evening: " Open thou mine eyes!"
One word before I conclude, about the spirit we ought to manifest
at these meetings. Let it be a spirit of deep humility. To know
our own ignorance, and to be willing to learn from every one. are
the first steps toward the acquisition of wisdom, whether earthly or
heavenly. There is none of us so wise, but he may learn something
from the rest; and none so ignorant but we may all learn something
from him. And from this let me just remark, that if any of your
friends, more advanced in life, shall condescend to honour us with
their presence, and to listen to our exercises, they shall always receive a hearty welcome. If they know the truth, as it is in Jesus,
they will rejoice to see their children seeking the way to Zion; and
if they know it not, they may receive knowledge even at this little
meeting, for which they may bless God through the ages of eternity.
May I allude, before concluding, to the distressing state of our
native land from the stagnation of trade?  " Shall there be evil in
the city, and the Lord hath not done it?"  We may depend upon it,
that God does not afflict our country for nought. We may not be
able to determine the cause for which these calamities have been
sent, but that there is a cause, we may rest assured. And what, I
ask, is more likely to bring the scourge of divine vengeance upon a
nation, than its own iniquities? It were well if men would listen
to the voice of Providence, which now speaks so loudly in every part
of our land; and that, when the judgments of the Lord are abroad
on the earth, men would learn righteousness.
The following is one of his short addresses to his class of young
men, after it was formed: —




408                    APPENDIX.
AN ADDRESS TO HIS CLASS.
"i Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth understandinlg," &c. - Prov. iii. 13 - 19.
IT would be a very reasonable question for any of you to put to
me to-night, "What has been your object in calling us together?"
And I think I should speak the sincere language of my heart, in
answering, " My object simply is to try to make you happy." Could
I succeed in convincing you, that this is really my design, and that
I have rational expectations of accomplishing it; I know that I
should secure the willing attendance, and the earnest attention of
all whose circumstances do not absolutely forbid them. Every one
wishes to be happy. However different may be the pursuits in
which men engage, and however diversified the objects on which
they set their affections, this is the great sum of their desires, and
this the point to which all their efforts tend. Every one of you feels
the truth of this statement. You are all seeking after happiness;
and yet, were I to question each one of you on this subject, I dare
say I should receive the same answer from all, that this great object
of your wishes has not yet been obtained. There is still another
point in which I may venture to say, you all agree. And this is,
" that though you have not yet found this object of your wishes, you
have the expectation, that at some future period it will be obtained."
The most miserable has this expectation. Take it away, and you
leave a man in despair.
You feel then, that at present, you are not quite happy. Many
of you may feel yourselves to be very miserable.  You earnestly
desire to be happy; and you have some vague hope, that at some
time or other, you will be so.
This is a subject then, which is interesting to all of you. It is
interesting to those who are most careless and indifferent about
everything else. And yet, though a subject of such universal interest, there is perhaps no subject on which men have differed so
widely. Why have we so many different characters in the world?
It is just because men have such different notions of what will make
them happy.
One man thinks, if he were rich, he would be happy, and he gives




ADDRESS  TO  HIS  CLASS.                     409
all his diligence to accomplish this object. ITe becomes rich, and in
all probability, is more wretched than before. This is such a common idea, that we may be required to dwell on it a little longer.
Especially in times like the present, it is most natural for him who
labours hard for the pittance that barely furnishes the necessaries
of life, to think that ease and plenty are all that is necessary to constitute true happiness. But you have only to come in contact with
the rich, to know how different is the fact. I have said, that I wish
to make you happy, and that I have rational expectations of accomplishing it. Some, I doubt not, would think it a good proof of the
sincerity of my assertions, were I able and willing to lavish among
you the good things of this life. This you know to be impossible;
but, were my ability and my benevolence as unbounded as this supposition would require, I should feel that I had miserably failed to
fulfil the expectations which I might have excited. No; wealth does
not constitute happiness. Riches cannot give peace of mind; and,
without this, what avails all bodily ease and luxury.
Some again, have affected to despise wealth, and have sought for
encouragement in what have been deemed more dignified pursuits.
But all have proved alike unsatisfactory. There is a want, a longing for something more, when the world has given all that it can.
There is one who had tried all the means of happiness this world
can afford, who gives it as the testimony of his experience, that " all
is vanity and vexation of spirit."  And I believe, in the moments
of sober thought, this is the feeling of every individual in looking
back upon the past. All has been unsatisfying. Expectations' of
happiness have been cruelly disappointed; and, if there have been a
few hours of pleasure, they have been but few, and have often left
the sting of remorse, or the bitterness of grief behind them. There
may have been gleams of enjoyment which appeared but to vanish:
but anything like lasting and satisfying happiness has not been experienced. And yet, with all that is unsatisfactory in the experience
of the past, there is a strange delusion that still hangs over the
future. In spite of experience, men will still hope to find that happiness which has hitherto deceived their expectations. We will not
believe that earth cannot give it. The child looks forward to the
frolics of boyhood, and the boy to the freedom and the pleasures of
youth. The youth enters on speculations of gain or ambition, and
35




410                     APPENDIX.
the accomplishment of these will perfect his happiness. Manhood
has not brought the longed-for satisfaction, but it has not ceased to
expect it. Still we will look to the future for happiness, till we have
no future to look to. And often, the nearer the end approaches, the
stronger is the delusion. And it is thus that many of us slumber
on from childhood to grey hairs, still dreaming of an imaginary bliss,
which, in spite of all experience, we will not believe to be imaginary;
ever deceived, and yet ever willing to be deceived again. And it is
thus, alas, that too many slumber on, pleased with the deceitful
vision, till the voice of death awakes them to the dread reality.
And is there, then, no such thing as happiness! Or, if there be,
how are we to find it? If riches and honours, and fame, and learning and pleasure, have deceived the expectations of those who
trusted to them for happiness, must we give up the search? There
is such a thing as true enjoyment, and there is a way of finding it,
which is patent to us all. The meanest, yea, the vilest have found
it before us, and we need not despair. God has been pleased to
"show us the path of life;" and if many have sunk to the grave
without attaining the object of their wishes, it is because they would
listen to the dictates of their own depraved propensities, rather than
to the voice of their Creator. O let us not imitate so sad an example! Let us turn to the Bible, and be directed by it in this the most
interesting of all inquiries.
HIe, to whom I have before alluded, as having tried all earthly
things, and pronounced them "vanity;" while writing under the
influence of the Divine Spirit, has the following words: "Happy
is the man that findeth wisdom." &c. Prov. iii. 13 -19. This points
directly to the subject of our inquiries. It is ours, then, humbly to
investigate what may be the meaning of the words, and to receive
it as an intimation from Him who knoweth all things, who cannot
be deceived, and who cannot lie.
It is evident, then, that the sense of the passage depends mainly
upon the meaning we give to the words, " wisdom" and " understanding," (a')r,,n.) If these are to be understood in the
sense in which they generally pass current among us, the passage will
seem at variance with the general remarks we have made about the
unsatisfactory nature of all earthly things. It is true, the pursuits
of learning and science are productive of a higher and a purer plea



ADDRESS TO HIS CLASS.                       411
sure, than the gross and degrading gratification of avarice or sensuality.  But still there are many called wise, whose wisdom has
failed to make them happy. This, therefore, cannot be the meaning
of the words. The Bible is never at variance with facts. Accordingly, we find the very author of our text bearing witness to the unsatisfactory nature of mere earthly wisdom. (Eccles. i. 16, to the end.)
If ever the wisdom of any man could afford happiness, the wisdom
of the wisest must have done so. But you have heard him rank it
with the other unsatisfactory vanities of earth. We are told of the
uncertainty of riches; and, therefore we are exhorted " not to labour
to be rich."  It is added in the same verse " Cease from thine own
wisdom."  Prov. xxiii. 4.
What then is the meaning of those interesting words, which form
the chief ingredients of that happiness, after which all are seeking?
They are not used in their ordinary sense: for, in that case, the
passage would not be true, and would stand at variance with other
parts of Scripture. It is always the safest way of interpreting Scripture language, and especially those phrases which are peculiar to
Scripture, when we can make the divine word its own interpreter.
If you turn to the twenty-eighth verse of the twenty-eighth chapter
of Job, you will have a beautiful illustration of what I mean.
There the very same words occur, which are found in our text, accompanied with a full and explicit explanation, " Behold the fear of
the Lord, that is wisdom; and to depart from evil, is understanding."
" The fear of the Lord," you know, is a common expression in Scripture for true religion. It indicates a feeling of the profoundest reverence, mingled with adoring love, which is the right state of mind
in which a creature should regard his Creator. To be truly happy,
then, we must be truly religious. The understanding that is mentioned, is a departure from evil. This too, is an ingredient of happiness, and is the consequent of the former. True happiness is inseparably connected with holiness.
You will say, This is no new discovery. We have been often told
so. Aye, but have you felt it to be a truth; and have you acted
upon it as a truth? If so, whatever be your sorrows, you can tell
that you have a joy which the world cannot give, and which it cannot take away. If you have not this joy, you have not yet laid hold




412                    APPENDIX.
on this true wisdom. Seek for her, for happy is the man that findeth her.
It appears then, that sin is the cause of all the misery that is in
the world. There is a sense of guilt and a dread of punishment,
which the most careless sometimes feel, and which must soon burst
with overwhelming force upon them in that place where conscience
will be ever awake. How blessed then is he "whose transgression is
forgiven, whose sin is covered," &c. (Psalm xxxii.) This consciousness of guilt must form a great part of the unhappiness of every
one, whose conscience is not seared as with a hot iron. In the
gospel then there is a remedy for this. The blessedness mentioned
in the Psalm may be ours, if we believe that Christ died for our
sins. But the misery arising from a sense of guilt, is not the only
misery connected with sin; nor is it this which constitutes the main
part of the unhappiness of mankind. An awakened conscience has
driven many to despair, and the thinking part of mankind are often
oppressed by the unwelcome intrusions of its warning voice. But
the gay, unthinking multitude, who never reflect, and who never
think of futurity,-are they oppressed with a sense of guilt?  They
often are. And yet is it true, that many dance along from the cradle
to the grave in whom the past has excited no remorse, and the future
no anxiety. And yet these were not hacppy.  They roved from
pleasure to pleasure, seeking what they could not obtain. Their
very love of novelty, showed that the last amusement could amuse
no longer. They have sunk to the grave, and they are miserable
now. There is a misery then connected with sin, independent of a
sense of guilt, or rather, I should say, Sin itself is misery. It is sin
which has stamped vanity on all the means of happiness which the
world presents. It is sin which has mingled bitterness with every
earthly pleasure. In this view of the matter, every sinner must be
uuhappy, and that independent of the torments of conscience, or the
foreboding of torments greater still. Misery must be mingled up
with his very existence, and every enjoyment must be embittered by
the principle of unhappiness which is in his own breast. One of
the scripture names of the devil, means the self tormentor; and the
appellation is applicable, in a certain degree, to every worker of iniquity. This is evidently the deadliest wound sin has given, but the
religion of the Bible has a cure for this too.




FICTION  AS A MEDIUM  OF INSTRUCTION. 413
In the gospel we are offered pardon, and this can disarm conscience
and take the sting from death. But this is not all. We must be
purified, as well as pardoned, ere our salvation be complete. The
natural consequence of sin, is punishment proportioned to the enormity of the crime; a full pardon frees us from all the overwhelming consequences of our guilt. But sin itself is a punishment; and,
so long as we are sinners, no pardon, however full or free, can save
us from this punishment. While we remain depraved and unholy,
we must be unhappy. A change of character then is the only hope
of deliverance. And for this, most ample means are provided in the
gospel of Christ. The very history of that atonement which procured our pardon, has a tendency while we meditate upon it, to promote our holiness. While we look to Christ, we are made like him.
While we behold that glory with unveiled -faces, we are changed into
the same image from glory to glory. It is by believing in Christ
then, and thinking much of his person and his history, that we shall
find that wisdom, and get that understanding, which shall make us
truly happy. For thus shall we fear the Lord, in the sense of that
term; and thus too shall wb be led to depart from evil.
M.
ON FICTION, AS A MEDIUM OF RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION.
EVERY age has its prevailing taste. And ifM we may judge of the
mental appetite as we do of that of the body, from the food that is
most relished by it, we should say, at present, novelty is the rage
of the day. Whether we examine the tables of our drawing-rooms,
or the shelves of our humblest circulating libraries, we find the
greater proportion of the books, and perhaps nearly all those that
bear the marks of frequent perusal, to be works of fiction. Nor is
this to be wondered at. We have arrived almost at that state of intellectual luxury which characterized the Athenians when Paul
visited their famous city. And it is just what might be expected,
if the description given of them be applicable- to,our own country35 *




414                     APP EN D IX.
men in the present day. But we confess it does surprise, and in
some degree alarm us, to find that this love of coloured fiction, in
preference to sober fact, has infected the Christian part of our community too, and has exerted so wide an influence on the character
of our religious publications.
We know that religious tales have been written by persons of
eminent piety, and with the best of motives. We have even heard
that real spiritual benefit has been obtained by the perusal of them.
But allowing all this to be true, there is still room for the question,
what is the tendency of such productions?
There is a general objection to common novels, that they give false
views of the world; and the same thing may be said of all works of
fiction. The sketches of Christian character contained in these religious tales, have no counterpart among living Christians.
It seems, indeed, essential to the nature of fiction, that everything
should be overdone. Truth stamps a worth upon other productions,
which must be made up here by something else. The volumes of
Hume or Robertson are held in estimation as histories; but they
would make but a sorry figure as novels.
Now, if this be true, here is the very serious evil in the works we
are considering.  Truth is wanting, and the judgment cannot be
interested. To make up for this, the fancy must be entertained; and
this is generally effected by over-wrought descriptions, and unlikely
coincidences. What must be the effect of this on the mind of an
unbeliever? l-Ie reads the lovely description, and he admires the
picture.  IIe turns to the world of reality around him, and sees
nothing like it.  And the too plausible conclusion is, " Well, if this
be Christianity, these people, after all, are not what they pretend
to be."
Equally pernicious must be the influence of this ideal perfection
of Christian character, on the mind of a young disciple. He who
has formed his notions of Christian society from the New Testament,
will be prepared for the trials he may meet with, in his intercourse
with Christian brethren, and in his fellowship with a Christian
Church. Hle will lament that good men should differ in some of
their opinions; and that sometimes there should spring from this,
debates and strifes that are most unseemly. But he will not be
stutmbled by it: for he has read of a " contention so sharp" between




FICTION AS A MEDIUM -OF INSTRUCTION. 415
two most eminent evangelists, that it caused their separation.  lie
will be grieved that the love of many should wax cold; but he will
be prepared to expect it.  It will distress him  much, if the faith of
some be overthrown, who seemed to be the people of God.  Still he
will not be stumbled. lie knows that there were similar declensions
even among the first disciples, who professed the name of Jesus, at
the peril of their lives. And in the midst of all these discouragments
he will be sustained by the consideration, " Nevertheless, the foundation of God standeth sure."
Not so he who has overlooked the salutary lessons of these instructive facts, and has gathered his ideas of the religious world
from the pages of some interesting fiction. When he comes in contact with realities, the beautiful vision that delighted him must
vanish.  Disappointments and discouragements will come thick
upon him. Iis zeal must be damped, and his ardour quenched,
and in all human probability his faith will be shaken.
It is a still stronger objection to works of fiction, that they place
their reader in an ideal world, where he can enjoy the luxury of
tender or sublime emotions, without undergoing the toil and the
self-denial, which are inseparable fiom the conduct that usually produces such feelings. Hie forgets his own character, and identifies
himself with the hero of the story. And if he but succeed in supposing the generous or benevolent deeds of this character to be his
own; he succeeds to a certain degree in actually app7roprialing to
himself the feelings which spring from such actions.
It is a strange paradox that men of the basest and most grovelling
characters can sympathize with such feelings. It is strange, indeed,
that a man who can be ravished with the beauties of nature should
be capable of turning from the elevating contemplation of the work
of God to the gratification of his grossest appetites.  And yet such
characters are to be found.  The lives of some of our most illustrious
poets furnish us with too conspicuous examples. The readers of
fiction present us with a similar paradox; and the explanation in
both cases is the same. The poet, in phrensy, forgets for a while
the real world, and forgets his own real character, and so does the
reader of fiction, though in a less degree. The only difference is,
that the novelist does for his reader what the poet does for himself.
The truth is, that the class of feelings to which we allude, are highly




416                     APPENDIX.
productive of pleasure; and no wonder that even the vicious love to
indulge in them, when they can do so at a cheaper price than virtue.
In a region of fancy such emotions can be cheaply purchased, and
hence the universal charm of novels. Even the miser c-n dissolve
in tenderness over a tale of suffering, when he knows that his gold
is safe. And the narrowest spirit can dilate with generosity, if selfinterest be not at stake. And finally, the most degraded profligate
can admire and sympathize with virtue, if his vicious passions may
still be gratified. Let any one who wishes for an exemplification of
these remarks, read Rousseau's Eulogium on the character of Jesus
Christ.
These general remarks, we think, are quite applicable to the religious novels of the day. We have not alluded to the pernicious
principles contained in common novels: our observations have a regard to those qualities alone that are common to all works of fiction.
Now it is indeed a serious evil, if by the process we have described,
those delightful emotions which attend the deeds of philanthropy,,an be stolen without paying their fair price in benevolent actions.
But it is an evil more serious still, if, in this way, we can work ourselves into a state of sentimental excitement, and mistake this for
that hallowed ecstasy which the faith of the gospel can alone afford.
A mistake here is fatal, and we cannot help thinking that the class
of publications we refer to make such a mistake easy. If an unknown author may be allowed to refer to his own experience, he can
well remember perusing with intense delight, the fascinating pages
of "' No Fiction," and giving the sympathy of his tears to some of
its affecting passages, when his whole soul was in direct opposition
to the gospel of Jesus Christ.
There are many who look upon evangelical Christianity as a beautiful system, and who can delight to contemplate it, so long as it interferes not with them. They consider an eloquent sermon as a high
intellectual treat.  If ever they are offended with the preacher, or
his doctrine, it is when conscience whispers that this may be all a
reality, and may have an influence on their own destinies. The
preacher is to them " as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well upon an instrument."  Give such persons religion dressed up in the form of a fiction, and it is just the
thing they want. The song which charmed them remained in all its




FICTION AS A MEDIUM OF INSTRUCTION. 417
loveliness; and the truth which excited their alarm, is alarming no
longer, when so closely wrapped with what is known to be fictitious.
If we may be allowed to add a single remark to a discussion al.
ready too lengthened, we would observe, that the style of the inspired writers seems to pronounce tacit condemnation on these high
coloured and overstrained productions. They have surely adopted
the best method of conveying instruction, who had all resources
within their power, and almighty wisdom  to direct their choice.
Their method is a recital of nakedj bcts. Here is no embellishment,
no impassioned description, although the facts related are the most
affecting which our earth has witnessed. They wished that the convictions of their readers should rest on facts, and that their feelings
too should be excited byfacts.*
The artist or the novelist may set before our imaginations the
circumstances of the Redeemer's death, much more impressively
than any of the evangelists have done. We may gaze upon the
crucifix and weep; but our tears will not be the tears of repentance.
And our indignation may burn against the persecutors of one so
meek and so benevolent, while we continue more attached than ever
to those sins that nailed the Lord of glory to the tree. It is the
simple fact that the Son of God died for our sins, -as that fact
illustrates the divine character, - which can make us abhor the sin
we gloried in, and gladly suffer for the truth we once despised.
While we have so rich a store of facts, it is surely unwise to resort to fiction.  We will venture to say, that one judicious volume
of Christian biography, has been of more service to the cause of
truth, than all the religious tales, or stories, "founded on fact," that
have ever issued from the press.
The following fragment on a very important subject, appears to
have been written about this time.  I deeply regret that it is but
a fragment, as from the very happy mode of illustrating the subject, which belongs to the first part of the paper, it would, I have
no doubt, been a very admirable illustration of the doctrine had
lie lived to complete it:- We trust we shall not be misunderstood, as speaking against earnest appeals, founded on these facts.




418                    APPENDIX.
ON THE OMNIPRESENCE AND OMNISCIENCE OF GOD
WHEN we have offended a fellow man, and wish to escape his
anger, the first thought that occurs, is to flee from  his presence.
We know that his observation is limited to one little spot; and that
anywhere else we are safe.
Imagine, however, that such an individual possessed an active
band of emissaries, scattered over a large extent of territory, with
whom he can maintain an easy communication; or, that he himself
is able to move with immense velocity in whatever direction he may
please; and you can see how difficult it would be to escape from his
presence. A well-regulated police will give some idea of this. Let
an offender escape whither he will, a description of his person, and
a warrant to apprehend him, is there before him. Suppose such a
system perfect, and that all its operations are performed, not by
numerous agents, but by one individual, possessed of the power of
moving with the rapidity of lightning if you will, still this would
afford but a poor conception of what is meant by omnipresence.
Flight would no longer be a means of escape; but concealment
might. The eye of man cannot pierce the darkness, - nor can he
guess the design that is formed in secret. And, however swift his
motions, and minute his observations, some lurking place might still
be found, which the most exquisite scrutiny could discover. The
bare possibility of escape would be thus afforded, and that is all.
But there is no such possibility of escape from God. " If we ascend
up into heaven," &c. It is not by any change of place that God
meets us wherever we turn. However difficult may be the conception, he is present everywhere. He fills heaven and earth with his
presence. No wonder that David exclaimed, on contemplating the
omnipresence of the Deity, -" Such knowledge is too wonderful for
me." Psalm cxxxix. 15. If we wish to do anything in secret, it is
the presence of a sentient being that we dislike; and the more acute
and piercing his senses, the more would we avoid his presence. The
mental and moral character of an individual is also a matter of importance. Thus darkness suspends the power of one of the human
senses. IIence men can commit crime in the dark, which they would
blush to perform in open day. And, in some instances, the presence




OMNIPRESENCE AND OMNISCIENCE. 419
of the inferior animals would be a matter of indifference, when the
presence of human beings, especially of one esteemed for his virtues,
would be felt as a most distressing intrusion.  Now think of these
remarks in their application to God?
"The darkness and the light are both alike to him." And, if we
speak of a lurking place, behold, " hell is naked before him, and destruction hath no covering. All things are naked, and open," &c.
And the Almighty Being, of whom these things are affirmed, is a
being of uspotted purity.
Could a human being thus force himself on our bodily presence at
all times, and in all circumstances, there would yet remain to us one
retreat, whose secrets, without our consent, no human scrutiny might
discover. Man may drive us from every other hiding-place, but he
cannot come, unbidden, into the secret place of the soul. IIe may
mark all our words and actions but our thoughts; his most keensighted penetration fails him there. The torture may be employed
to force the will, and compel us to reveal what is passing within us.
But in some cases of firm hardihood, the tyrant has found even his
tortures ineffectual. There have been minds which refused to bend,
though the body was broken on the torturing wheel. But there is
no such repeal from the all-knowing Deity. It is his high prerogative to know the thoughts, and to try the views, of the children of
men. Think then of that Almighty Presence, which is with us
wherever we go. Think of that all-seeing eye, which not only can
pierce the thickest darkness, and lay open the most secret hiding
place; but which, without the medium of anything material, can
gaze upon the naked soul, and tell the unuttered thoughts that are
rising and passing within us.
There is still another way in which we may. sometimes escape the
anger of a fellow-man. If we can but avoid him for a season, we
know that time will erase the remembrance of the offence, or at
least, it will mitigate the fury of his passion.  Thus Esau, who
sought to kill his brother Jacob, received him, after the lapse of
years, with cordial affection. But it is not so with God. "Lie is
not a man, that he should repent."
God is present throughout space, in the world of mind, as well as
the world of matter. He is present also throughout all duration,
throughout time, throughout eternity.




420                    APPENDIX.
The former was a difficult conception. This is still more so, and
language fails to express it. It may be an easier way of conceiving
the idea, to say, that all the past, and all the future, are to Him as
the present, " Known unto him," &c. Hebrews iv. 6. It was some
such conception that the philosophers had, who spoke of the Eternal
now. Neither matter, nor spirit, nor duration itself, can remove us
from this omnipresent God.
Hitherto we have been labouring to get some conception of the
idea expressed by the term omnipresence.
Let us consider what effect it should produce on our minds, to
know that God is omniscient and omnipresent.
In the illustration we set out with, we supposed the case of one
endeavouring to escape the anger of the man whom he had offended.
How terrible is the anger of an adversary, who is omnipresent! On
the contrary, how delightful the thought of a Friend who never
leaves us! Now, how do we regard Him who alone possesses this
wondrous attribute? Is God our friend, or do we think of him only
as our enemy? Alas, too many think of him merely as the destroyer of their pleasures, and the punisher of their sins. They
would fain flee from his presence, but they cannot. The full impression of his omnipresence would be perfect misery. This they can,
in some degree, avoid, if not by escaping from his presence, by banishing Him from their thoughts. The idea of God is an idea of
pain. No wonder, then, if they can command the direction of their
own minds, that we can say concerning them, " God is not in all
their thoughts." But it will not be so always. There are cases in
which conscience, roused by a deed of uncommon atrocity, and ever
awake, has given some impression of an ever-present God.  The
murderer may flee fiom the scenes where he did the horrid deed,
but they will not leave his thoughts; asleep or awake, the sword of
justice will be seen hanging over him; and in many cases, he has
been known to seek the hand of the avenger, to try if death would
give relief from an existence of unmingled wretchedness. O what
is the misery of those who have lifted up their eyes in hell! There
conscience cannot slumber. There the unwelcome idea of a God of
unrelenting justice, can be banished from the thoughts no longer.
THE END.