TENTH PASTORAL LETTER - Robert Murray Mcchene
O my dear flock, whom I love in the Lord Jesus, grace, mercy, and peace, be multiplied from God the Father, and from His Son Jesus Christ.
I fear that many of you will be thinking hardly of your distant pastor, because of his long silence; and, indeed, I cannot but think hardly of myself. I little thought, when leaving Italy, that I would be in Europe again before writing to you. I did not know how difficult it is to write at any length when travelling in the East. From the day we left Egypt till we came to Mount Lebanon, for more than two months, we were constantly journeying from place to place, living in tents, without the luxury of a chair or a bed. In these circumstances, with my weak body, and under a burning sun, you must not wonder at my silence. At the foot of Mount Carmel I began one letter to you, and again in sight of the Sea of Galilee I began another, but neither did I get finished. Last of all, before leaving the Holy Land, I set apart a day for writing to you; but God had another lesson for me to learn. He laid me down under a burning fever, bringing me to the very gates of death. Indeed, my dear people, I feel like Lazarus, whom the Lord Jesus raised from the tomb. I feel like one sent a second time with the message of salvation, to speak it more feelingly and more faithfully to your hearts, as one whose eye had looked into the eternal world. In all our wanderings, you have been with me by night and by day. Every scene of Immanuel’s land brought you to my remembrance, because every scene tells us of Jesus Christ and Him crucified. In the wilderness—in Jerusalem—beside the Sea of Galilee—at Smyrna—on the Black Sea-on the Danube— you have been all with me. I have, day and night, unceasingly laid your case before God. It has been one of my chief comforts, that, though I could not preach to you, nor come to you, I could yet pray for you. Perhaps I may obtain more for you in this way than I could have done by my personal services among you. Another joy to me has been, that I know all of you who pray, pray for me. This has been a lamp to me in many a dark hour. God has wonderfully preserved us through your prayers. In the south of die Holy Land we were daily exposed to the plague. Every night we heard the wail of the mourners going about the streets of Jerusalem; yet no plague came near our dwelling. Near the Sea of Galilee we were often in danger of being robbed and murdered by the wild Arabs; yet we passed unhurt through the midst of them. Sailing to Smyrna, your pastor was brought low indeed, insomuch that I never thought to see you again; yet He sent His word and healed me. In Poland, the Sabbath before last, I was actually in the hands of robbers; but through God’s wonderful mercy, I escaped safe. In every step of our journey, I am persuaded we have been watched over by our all-loving Father, who is the hearer of prayer! And the Lord shall deliver us from every evil work, and will preserve us unto His heavenly kingdom. I speak of these things only that you may give Him the glory, and trust in Him to your dying day. Sing Psalm 116., in all your families. Another joy to me has been, that God has given you the dear brother who watches over you so tenderly. You know not what joy it gave me to hear of you all through him. The letter reached me at Smyrna, when I was so weak that I could not walk alone. It was like health and marrow to my bones, to hear that the Lord’s work is not yet done in the midst of you, and that so many of you stand fast in the Lord, having your conversation in heaven. I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in the truth. It is not like common joy. All joys of this world are short and fading,–they reach not beyond the dark boundary of the grave; but to rejoice over those whom the Lord has given me out of a perishing world-this is joy which God Himself shares, and which reaches into the light of eternity. Ye are my joy and crown. In like manner, there is no sorrow like the sorrow of the pastor, who has to weep over a backsliding people. I do tremble to return to you, for I know well I shall have deep sorrow from some of whom I expected joy. I fear lest I have to mourn over some branches that are without fruit on the good vine-tree; over some, who once gave their hand to the Saviour, but are now saying, “I will go after my lovers.” Are there none of you who have left your first love, and broken the bands that bound you to follow Jesus? Shall I find none of whom I must needs say, “They went out from us, but they were not of us “? Oh, there is no sorrow like unto this sorrow! Had I been able, as I hoped, to have written you from all the chief places in our journeyings, I would have attempted to describe to you all I saw; but now there are so many countries to look back upon, that it would be vain to attempt it. I do hope that if the Lord bring us together again, I may be able to tell you many things of our wanderings, and especially of Immanuel’s land, which may both refresh and improve you. Nothing that I have heard I keep back from you, if only it be for your soul’s good and God’s glory. Of the Holy Land’ I can only say, like the Queen of Sheba, “that the half was not told me.” It is far more wonderful than I could have believed. I shall always reckon it one of the greatest temporal blessings of my lot, that I have been led to wander over its mountains with the Bible in my hand, to sit by its wells, and to meditate among its ruined cities. Not a single day did we spend there without reading, in the land itself, the most wonderful traces of God’s anger and of His love. Several times we went to the Mount of Olives, to the Garden of Gethsemane, to the Pool of Siloam, and to the village of Bethany, and every stone seemed to speak of the love of God to sinners. These places are probably very little altered from what they were in the days when Jesus tabernacled among men, and they all seemed to say, “Hereby perceive we the love of God, because He laid down His life for us.” We were four days in sight of the Sea of Galilee. I could not help thinking of you, my dear young people, for we used to go over the Sea of Galilee so often on the Monday evenings, and all the scenes of divine love it has been witness to. One day we rode through the plain of Gennesareth, and passed the mouldering ruins of Capernaum, the Saviour’s city, where His voice of mercy was so often heard, and where His hand was so often stretched out to heal. We asked in vain for Chorazin and Bethsaida. The woe which Jesus pronounced has fallen upon them.
Oh, my dear flock, “how shall you escape if you neglect so great salvation? “See how desolate they are left, that refuse Him that speaketh from heaven. The free offer of a Divine Surety rings through your churches, now that God continues faithful teachers among you. Every Sabbath, and oftener, the fountain for sin is publicly opened for you, and souls, all defiled with sin, are invited to come and wash. But these mercies will not always last.
If you tread the glorious gospel f the grace of God under your feet, your souls will perish; and I fear Dundee will one day be a howling wilderness like Capernaum. I spent nearly the whole of August, during my illness in Bouja, a village near Smyrna, under the care of tenderest friends, whom the Lord wonderfully provided for me in a strange land. You remember Smyrna is one of the Seven Churches in Asia to which the Saviour sent those quickening messages in the Revelation of St. John. I thought again and again of the happy Thursday evenings which I once spent with you in meditating on these seven epistles to the churches. You know it is said of Samuel, even when he was a child, that God did not let one of his words fall to the ground; and the same is true to this hour of the very weakest of God’s faithful ministers. What we have spoken to you is not like the passing wind, which hurries on and leaves no trace behind. It is like the rain and snow—it will not return to God without accomplishing some end in your hearts, either melting or hardening. Smyrna is the only one of these churches where a pure golden candlestick is now to be found with the light burning. There is a small company who believe in Jesus. It was pleasant indeed to hear the gospel preached there in all its purity and power. Be you also faithful to death, and you shall receive a crown of life. Leaving Smyrna, we sailed past Troas and Bithynia, and visited Constantinople, the most beautiful city in the world, and yet the most miserable. Looking round from the deck of the vessel, I could count above ninety minarets, many of them pure marble, carved and gilded in the richest manner. These all form part of mosques, or temples of the false prophet Mahomet. This religion is a singular invention of Satan; their Koran, or Bible, is a book filled with nonsense, and with much wickedness. All their belief is comprehended in the short saying, “Lo Allah it Allah, a Mohamed Rasal Allah”—”There is no God but God, and Mahomet is his prophet.” They expect to be saved chiefly by making pilgrimages to Mecca, by abstaining from wine and pork, and by praying five times a day. Every day, at sunrise or sunset, we saw them at prayer; wherever they are, in the open street, on the top of the house, or on the deck of a ship, they take off their shoes, wash hands, face, and feet, spread their garment before them, and, turning their face towards Mecca, pray, bending and kissing the ground, often fifteen and twenty times. They are rather pleased if you look at them. They are very proud of their own faith, and will not listen for a moment to the gospel of Jesus. It would be instant banishment or death if any missionary were to attempt their conversion. Ah, my dear flock, how differently you are situated! How freely salvation is offered to you—a faith that really saves you from your sins-that makes you love one another! For love is of God, and every one that loveth is born of God. If you are not growing humble and loving, be sure your faith is no better than a Mahometan’s. You are not of God, but of the world. The next countries we visited were Wallachia and Moldavia. We sailed to them from Constantinople, across the raging waves of the Black Sea, and up the mighty river Danube. These are two singular countries, seldom visited by travellers; they are governed by two princes, and the established religion is of the Greek Church. I wish I could show you all that I have seen of the superstitions and wickedness practised among them, that you might give more earnest heed to the pure gospel that flows as freely as air and water through our beloved land. One day, in Bucharest, the capital city of Wallachia, I was present at a festival on the prince’s birthday. An immense crowd was present in their finest church, and all the nobles of the land. The service consisted of prayers and chanting by a number of priests, dressed in the most splendid manner. When all was over, I stayed behind to see a curious superstition. At one side of the altar lay an open coffin, highly ornamented; within I observed a dead body wrapped in cloth of gold; a dead withered hand alone was left out. This is said to be the body of St. Demetrius, lately found in a river, by the water parting asunder miraculously. Such is the tale we are told. I stood beside it when the worshippers approached the coffin in great numbers, men and women, rich and poor. First they crossed themselves and kneeled, kissing the floor three times. Then they approached reverently, and kissed the withered hand of the dead body, and a cross that lay beside it. Then they gently dropped a small coin into a little plate at the dead man’s feet, and after receiving a blessing from the priest, with three prostrations more to the ground, they retired. This is one specimen of their abominable worship of dead men. Do I tell you these things that you may be proud of your superior light? Ah, no! I write these things, that those of you who live no better lives than they do, may be convinced of your danger. What can you expect of these poor idolaters, but that they will live after the flesh, in rioting and drunkenness, in chambering and wantonness, in strife and envying? But are there none of you, my dear flock, for whom night and day my prayers ascend-are there none of you who do the same things, though you have the Holy Bible, and a freely preached gospel, and no superstition? Yet how many of you live an unholy life! Ah! remember Sardis: “I know thy works, that thou hast a name that thou livest, and art dead. Be watchful, and strengthen the things which remain, that are ready to die; for I have not found thy works perfect before God.” The next kingdom we came through was Austrian Poland-the land of graven images. We came through its chief towns, Tarnapole, Brody, Lemburg, and from thence to Cracow, travelling many hundred miles. You would be amazed, as I have been, if you saw the abominable idolatry of this land. The Roman Catholic is the established faith; and the Government are bitter persecutors of any who change. At every village there are numbers of crosses, of immense size, with the image of the Saviour. There are also statues of the Virgin Mary, and of other saints, as large as life, all along the roads. Often there are wooden boxes set up full of images; often in the middle of a square there is a small covered chamber full of these idols, of wood and stone, whom the poor people worship every day. The Bible is an unlawful book in this country. All our Bibles were taken away from us, even our Hebrew ones, that we might not preach to the Jews the glad tidings of a Saviour. Blessed be God, they could not take them from our memories and hearts. Should not this make you all pray for the coming of the day when the towers of Popery shall fall— the day when God shall avenge us on her? For the Bible which she hates so much says: “Her plagues shall cone in one day, death, and mourning, and famine; and she shall be utterly burned with fire; for strong is the Lord God who judgeth her.” Pray for that day, for it will be the same day when God will bind up the breach of His people Israel, and shall heal the stroke of their wound. It will be the day when the Lamb’s wife shall come forth in all her loveliness, and when the Lord Jesus shall wear the crown of His espousals.
Oh, my dear flock, “how shall you escape if you neglect so great salvation? “See how desolate they are left, that refuse Him that speaketh from heaven. The free offer of a Divine Surety rings through your churches, now that God continues faithful teachers among you. Every Sabbath, and oftener, the fountain for sin is publicly opened for you, and souls, all defiled with sin, are invited to come and wash. But these mercies will not always last.
If you tread the glorious gospel f the grace of God under your feet, your souls will perish; and I fear Dundee will one day be a howling wilderness like Capernaum. I spent nearly the whole of August, during my illness in Bouja, a village near Smyrna, under the care of tenderest friends, whom the Lord wonderfully provided for me in a strange land. You remember Smyrna is one of the Seven Churches in Asia to which the Saviour sent those quickening messages in the Revelation of St. John. I thought again and again of the happy Thursday evenings which I once spent with you in meditating on these seven epistles to the churches. You know it is said of Samuel, even when he was a child, that God did not let one of his words fall to the ground; and the same is true to this hour of the very weakest of God’s faithful ministers. What we have spoken to you is not like the passing wind, which hurries on and leaves no trace behind. It is like the rain and snow—it will not return to God without accomplishing some end in your hearts, either melting or hardening. Smyrna is the only one of these churches where a pure golden candlestick is now to be found with the light burning. There is a small company who believe in Jesus. It was pleasant indeed to hear the gospel preached there in all its purity and power. Be you also faithful to death, and you shall receive a crown of life. Leaving Smyrna, we sailed past Troas and Bithynia, and visited Constantinople, the most beautiful city in the world, and yet the most miserable. Looking round from the deck of the vessel, I could count above ninety minarets, many of them pure marble, carved and gilded in the richest manner. These all form part of mosques, or temples of the false prophet Mahomet. This religion is a singular invention of Satan; their Koran, or Bible, is a book filled with nonsense, and with much wickedness. All their belief is comprehended in the short saying, “Lo Allah it Allah, a Mohamed Rasal Allah”—”There is no God but God, and Mahomet is his prophet.” They expect to be saved chiefly by making pilgrimages to Mecca, by abstaining from wine and pork, and by praying five times a day. Every day, at sunrise or sunset, we saw them at prayer; wherever they are, in the open street, on the top of the house, or on the deck of a ship, they take off their shoes, wash hands, face, and feet, spread their garment before them, and, turning their face towards Mecca, pray, bending and kissing the ground, often fifteen and twenty times. They are rather pleased if you look at them. They are very proud of their own faith, and will not listen for a moment to the gospel of Jesus. It would be instant banishment or death if any missionary were to attempt their conversion. Ah, my dear flock, how differently you are situated! How freely salvation is offered to you—a faith that really saves you from your sins-that makes you love one another! For love is of God, and every one that loveth is born of God. If you are not growing humble and loving, be sure your faith is no better than a Mahometan’s. You are not of God, but of the world. The next countries we visited were Wallachia and Moldavia. We sailed to them from Constantinople, across the raging waves of the Black Sea, and up the mighty river Danube. These are two singular countries, seldom visited by travellers; they are governed by two princes, and the established religion is of the Greek Church. I wish I could show you all that I have seen of the superstitions and wickedness practised among them, that you might give more earnest heed to the pure gospel that flows as freely as air and water through our beloved land. One day, in Bucharest, the capital city of Wallachia, I was present at a festival on the prince’s birthday. An immense crowd was present in their finest church, and all the nobles of the land. The service consisted of prayers and chanting by a number of priests, dressed in the most splendid manner. When all was over, I stayed behind to see a curious superstition. At one side of the altar lay an open coffin, highly ornamented; within I observed a dead body wrapped in cloth of gold; a dead withered hand alone was left out. This is said to be the body of St. Demetrius, lately found in a river, by the water parting asunder miraculously. Such is the tale we are told. I stood beside it when the worshippers approached the coffin in great numbers, men and women, rich and poor. First they crossed themselves and kneeled, kissing the floor three times. Then they approached reverently, and kissed the withered hand of the dead body, and a cross that lay beside it. Then they gently dropped a small coin into a little plate at the dead man’s feet, and after receiving a blessing from the priest, with three prostrations more to the ground, they retired. This is one specimen of their abominable worship of dead men. Do I tell you these things that you may be proud of your superior light? Ah, no! I write these things, that those of you who live no better lives than they do, may be convinced of your danger. What can you expect of these poor idolaters, but that they will live after the flesh, in rioting and drunkenness, in chambering and wantonness, in strife and envying? But are there none of you, my dear flock, for whom night and day my prayers ascend-are there none of you who do the same things, though you have the Holy Bible, and a freely preached gospel, and no superstition? Yet how many of you live an unholy life! Ah! remember Sardis: “I know thy works, that thou hast a name that thou livest, and art dead. Be watchful, and strengthen the things which remain, that are ready to die; for I have not found thy works perfect before God.” The next kingdom we came through was Austrian Poland-the land of graven images. We came through its chief towns, Tarnapole, Brody, Lemburg, and from thence to Cracow, travelling many hundred miles. You would be amazed, as I have been, if you saw the abominable idolatry of this land. The Roman Catholic is the established faith; and the Government are bitter persecutors of any who change. At every village there are numbers of crosses, of immense size, with the image of the Saviour. There are also statues of the Virgin Mary, and of other saints, as large as life, all along the roads. Often there are wooden boxes set up full of images; often in the middle of a square there is a small covered chamber full of these idols, of wood and stone, whom the poor people worship every day. The Bible is an unlawful book in this country. All our Bibles were taken away from us, even our Hebrew ones, that we might not preach to the Jews the glad tidings of a Saviour. Blessed be God, they could not take them from our memories and hearts. Should not this make you all pray for the coming of the day when the towers of Popery shall fall— the day when God shall avenge us on her? For the Bible which she hates so much says: “Her plagues shall cone in one day, death, and mourning, and famine; and she shall be utterly burned with fire; for strong is the Lord God who judgeth her.” Pray for that day, for it will be the same day when God will bind up the breach of His people Israel, and shall heal the stroke of their wound. It will be the day when the Lamb’s wife shall come forth in all her loveliness, and when the Lord Jesus shall wear the crown of His espousals.
I began this letter to you in Cracow, the ancient capital of Poland, but now an independent state. We spent three days there inquiring after the poor despised Jews. We had much intercourse with a faithful, prayerful missionary, who labours among them there; and on the Sabbath we celebrated the Lord’s Supper. During the four years he has been in Cracow, the missionary had never once enjoyed the ordinance, for all around are sunk in Popery or infidelity. We were but five souls in all, and yet we felt it very pleasant, when surrounded with them that hated us, and far from our homes, with the door of the chamber shut, to remember Jesus. My thoughts and desires were much towards you. I had greatly hoped to be present at your next Lord’s Supper, but now I see it cannot be. My only comfort is, I have committed you to those who are beloved of the Lord, workmen that need not to be ashamed, whose names are in the Book of Life; and the chief Shepherd, I feel persuaded, will not leave you orphans, but will come to you, and breathe upon you. May the Lord keep back from the table all who are not united to Christ; and may you, who are His own children, have communion with the Father, and with His Son Jesus Christ.Since yesterday morning we have travelled one hundred and eighty miles nearer home. We are now in Breslau, and we breathe more freely, for this is the Protestant kingdom of Prussia. It makes my heart light to think that I am really on my way to you. It has been a sweet work indeed to me to carry, with poor stammering lips, the word of salvation to the scattered sheep of the house of Israel; still, I do long, if it be the Lord’s will, to feed once more the flock that was given me in the dew of my youth. Whether I shall be permitted, and how long, to take up so great a work again, my Master only knows; but if you wish for it as fervently as I do, solemnly agree, in the presence of God, on the night on which this letter is read to you, to these two things,—First, Strive together with me in your prayers to God for me, that it would please Him to forgive and forget our past sins and shortcomings,–mine in carrying the message, yours in receiving it; and that He would really heal my body, and strengthen my soul, for again uptaking the blessed work of the gospel ministry among you, and that He would grant us a prosperous journey to come unto you. Second, Solemnly agree, in the strength of the Lord Jesus, to break off your sins by righteousness, and your iniquities by showing mercy to the poor. The sin of one Achan troubled the whole camp of Israel. If any one of you who are God’s children wilfully continue in some old sin, then it may be God’s will, for your sake, to trouble our camp, and continue His chastening. See that no fleshly lust-no covetousness, which is idolatry—no hankering after the world and its unholy pleasures—no unlawful affection—be reigning in you. Clean out the old leaven from all your houses, so that we may meet again in peace, and be refreshed together by days of the Lord’s presence, and of the Spirit’s power, such as we have never seen before. This is the hearty desire and prayer of your affectionate pastor, etc.