JUST at the foot of the Pentland Hills, lay, years ago, an old farm house, of the plainest kind, built of rough stone, and roofed with thatch; but shaded by venerable trees, and cheered by a “bonnie burn, wimp-ling” over its pebbly bed. That was the home of Sandy Morrison, an old-fashioned Presbyterian elder, whom I knew in the days of lang-syne. In exterior, Sandy was rough, tall, and ungainly. The only, thing about him really attractive was his large, clear hazel eye, which lay beneath his shaggy brows, like a deep fountain among the brown hills of his native land.
Sandy belonged to a peculiar class of Scotsmen, some of whom the writer knew in his boyhood. He was perfectly natural in all his ways; honest, industrious. and shrewd; simple as a child, and yet thoughtful as a sage. He walked with God as friend with friend. When he prayed, he seemed to talk with God face to face.
Philosophers would have called him a mystic. He had never heard the word; and had it been applied to him, in his hearing, and its meaning explained, he would have said, “HoOt man,’ ye needna ge round about seeking the nearest to explain a thing se simple. It’s only God in the hert of a puir sinner.” Had you demurred at his explanation, he would have cut the matter short, by asking, “If ye didna believe in the mighty power o’ God?”
The whole secret of the simplicity and power of Sandy’s religion lay in the fact that he truly believed in God, as the life of the soul of man, as well as the life of the universe.
His favorite books were Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, Boston’s Fourfold State, Erskine’s Sermons, Halyburton’s Remains, The Book of Martyrs, and Rutherford’s Letters, and above all the Bible. Next to the Bible, Halyburton and Rutherford exerted upon him the greatest influence. The tender and meditative Halyburton, and the ardent “Eagle of Anwoth,” had minds accordant with his own. We rather think he had read with interest “Scougal’s Life of God in the Soul of Man,” and this might account for some of his peculiar expressions.
Sandy had a perfect trust in the Providence of God. “The Lord reigneth,” he would say, “everything is wisely ordered, and will come out right in the end.”
If you said, “Not surely the sins and follies of men!” he would reply as follows:
“Sins and follies are ours, and we suffer for them; but God overrules them for His glory. You see the eddies in the stream yonder; they twist and turn a’ sorts o’ ways, but they go wi’ the current at last. Irt the storm, sticks, stanes, and dirt come tumbling douni frae the hills; but in the valley yonder they lie a’ quiet enough, and in the simmer time will be covered wi’ grass and daisies. In the same way, it seems to me, God works a’ things accordin’ to the counsel o’ His aim will.”
This accounts for Sandy’s peace and joy. “You see,” said he, explaining the matter in his peculiar fashion, “years gave by, I believed just as ithers do, who have a form o’ godliness, but deny the power thereof. I did’na understand, and, abuve all, I did’na love God. I was worryin’ about this, that, and the ither. Things were nae richt. Wife and I were puir, ye ken, and had to work hard; but we did’na mind that se long as we had health and strength. We lived in a bonnie place. The sun shone cheerily on our bit housie, amang the roses and honeysuckles, that my auld mither had planted wi’ her ain hand. And, mair than that, the Lord sent us a bonnie bairn. Hech! the wee thing seemed an angel in disguise, wi’ its yellow hair, dimplin’ cheeks, and blue een. It was the licht and glory o’ our hame.
“But the Lord took her to Himsel. O how we grat when we laid her in the yird! And Mary (that’s my wife’s name) began to fail. She could’na tell what was the matter wi’ her. The doctor said she had a weakness in the chest. But it made our hame unco dowie like. Everything seemed to ge wrang, and I murmured sair against the Lord. The warld looked waefu’, and I would have liked to dee.
“But I began to think. I seemed to come to mysel; yet my mind was unco dark. Then I read the Bible and prayed. Our neebor, auld Mr. Wallace, a gude man, tauld us to look to the Rock o’ Ages, and see if the Lord wad’na open for us the fountain o’ consolation.
“Then I saw, but not very clearly at first, that there was anither warld-anither kingdom like, spiritual and eternal, as holy Mr. Rutherford wud say. This warld is only a husk, or shell. The substance, the spirit, is anither. And a’ is full o’ God. Then I saw wee Mary, whose body we had laid in the grave, wakin’ in that warld n’ licht and peace. I heard her singin’ there wi’ the angels o’ God. I heard the voice o’ Jesus there, saying, Peace, Peace! It cam like the sweetest music to my puir hert!
“Then I understood how blind, unbelievin’, and wicked I had been, and I said to mysel ‘What’s the use o’ murmurin’?’ The Redeemer liveth, and blessed be His name; I will just put mysel and a’ I have under the shadow o’ His wings.
“Says I to my wife, ‘Mary, we maun believe in God. He’s a’ and in a’. He gave us our bonnie bairn, and He’s taen her again; for she was His mair than ours; and noo she’s an angel. She wunna come to us, but we will go to her. And noo ye maun be comforted.’
“And then we kneeled Boon thegither, and prayed to the God o’ our fathers, the God o’ our bairn, and were comforted.
“Then the warld appeared to me in a new licht. It was filled wi’ the holy presence o’ God. I saw that a’ was His, licht and darkness, simmer and winter, sorrow and joy, death and life; and that He was governing a’ things according to the counsel o’ His ain will.”