The Life of John Milne, Chapter 6, by Horatius Bonner. This audio was created with an artificial voice for the audiobook initiative on Sermon Audio. Chapter 6, 1841-1843. Church Movements and Letters. In the end of 1841, the Christian people of the Church of Scotland began to unite in defense of their spiritual liberties and in maintenance of Christ's regal rights as the Church's head and the world's king. These associations multiplied over the whole land carrying on their operations till superseded by the disruption of 1843. In these movements, Mr. Milne took no lukewarm part. Though by no means an ecclesiastic in the common sense of the word, he was a thorough Presbyterian, a vigorous maintainer of ancient doctrine and Reformation discipline. Those who counted upon his laxity in regard to Church principles and who were persuaded that a man, so spiritual and so silent in Church courts, would take no part in the struggles of these years, were surprised at the resolute decision which he showed in adopting, and the energy in maintaining, the great ecclesiastical principles then battled for. He acted on the principle which our General Assembly in 1646 thus stated to the divines of the Westminster Assembly, the smallest of Christ's truths, if it be lawful to call any of them small, is of greater moment than all the other businesses that ever have been debated since the beginning of the world to this day. In the midst of the great warfare of these years and in spite of bustle and distraction, Mr. Milne in patience possessed his soul. The ecclesiastical turmoil seemed to elevate, not to depress, to spiritualize, not to secularize. All the brethren whom he loved, and in whose fellowship he delighted, were of one mind on the questions which were dividing the church courts. Hence they could meet together, confer together, pray together. There was no distance, nor misunderstanding, nor suspicion. All were of one heart and of one soul. Mr. Milne's loving spirit shrunk sensitively from aught like separation. on any point from those whom he loved. Some years after the disruption he thus writes, I should have been grieved and surprised far more if there could have been discordance between dear brother blank and myself. I would give up a good deal rather than not agree with you and I would go I don't know how far about rather than lose your company. During the months before his death, the prospect or possibility of variance among brethren was inexpressible pain to him. But in the years preceding the disruption, there was entire unity among the evangelical brethren in the church. As was said by one speaker at the convocation in reference to the band who afterwards formed the Free Church, ye are in our hearts to die and live with you. To Corinthians 7.3, never perhaps had evangelical ministers been so thoroughly and compactly united. But there was more than unity. There was a manifest quickening throughout Scotland. The church questions agitated were not those of partisanship or routine. They were vital and spiritual, both in themselves and in their bearings. They centered in Christ himself, Christ the lawgiver of the church, Christ the lawgiver of the realm. Hence, in handling them, Christian men were dealing with the master and the master's honor. The questions were summed up in two. Shall Christ give laws to the church, or shall the church give laws to herself? Shall Christ give laws to the nations, or shall the nations give laws to themselves? Christian men had not to come down to secularities and externalisms in maintaining these. They felt that they were discussing matters which touched their spiritual interests on every side, and that they were contending for truths which brought their souls in contact with the Lord himself. Hence Mr. Milne writes to Mr. Somerville, Are you going anywhere to speak on the church question? Or will you go if asked? Our McShane goes north in a week or two to Ellen and Deer Presbyteries, so we shall have to take St. Luke's Communion between us. Accept my prayer that you may inherit Jacob's heritage, Genesis 28 15, and Abraham's. I will bless you and make you blessings. I wish I could give all my foolish heart to Jesus and seek all my consolation from him. The real character of the time and the true meaning of its events were well understood by Mr. Hewitson when he wrote, Judgment in this land is beginning with the righteous. What, then, will the end be of those who obey not the gospel of God? This is a critical time for the world?" Into this feeling many of us entered. Among these, not least, John Milne. The Church, he knew, was all safe if she failed not in her duty. But what of the State if she failed in hers? If we weep, wrote he, it is not for ourselves but for our country which, by this act of oppression, may fill the cup of her national iniquity. and cause the Lord to withdraw those barriers which have hitherto prevented the floods of error and calamity from breaking in. This country, he writes again, is interested in this matter. I infer this from a simple Bible principle. It is said by the Apostle Paul, Ephesians 1.22, God hath put all things under Christ's feet and hath given him to be the head over all things to the church. Here we learn two important truths. First, Christ has supreme and universal power. He is the head over all things in heaven. The angels dwell in his presence and rejoice to do his will. He is the head over all things in hell. The lost spirits tremble and are constrained to obey. He is the head also over all things on earth. Princes, judges, magistrates, and other powers that be are his subjects. They are ordained by him. They are accountable to him and will in a little while stand before his great white throne. The time cometh when they shall all remember and turn to the Lord, when the kings of Tarshish and of the Isles shall bring presents, when the kings of Sheba and Seba shall offer gifts. A second thing which we learn from these words is the use which Christ makes of His vast power. He is head over all things to the Church. That is, he employs the power which he has over all things for the good of the Church, to protect, extend, and perfect it. If such is the use which he makes of his supreme and universal power, then surely earthly rulers and judges are bound to make the same use of that limited and delegated power which they receive from him. They are set up by him, they are his servants, his stewards. And therefore they plainly ought to employ the power which he gives them, mainly to preserve and further and comfort his church. And if they refuse to do so, they are rebels against their heavenly master and probably bring a curse upon their country, while they certainly expose themselves as individuals to the condemnation of unrighteous servants in the day of accounts. Brethren, this is a question in which we are interested not only as Christians but also as right-hearted Scotchmen, concerned for our country's will. The kingdom and nation that will not serve Christ shall perish. Yea, those nations shall be utterly wasted." Isaiah 60, 12. I do not enter at length into details of the disruption. Mr. Milne had, by letters and otherwise, prepared his people for that event. And when the time came, the great majority went with him, 10 out of 15 elders and a still larger proportion of the members. At the last communion before the crisis, there were nearly 900 communicants. And at the first communion after it, there were 843. All the Sabbath schoolteachers, with their 300 scholars, quitted the old walls. Free St. Leonard's Church was opened before the close of the year, and Mr. Milne's first text was Psalm 24-7, Lift up your heads, O ye gates. There had been several ebullitions of hostility towards him and his work. beginning with the proposal on the part of some of the managers to exclude William Burns. The last and most important was on the 10th of May, 1843, when an interdict on the part of some of these same managers was served upon Mr. Milne, prohibiting him from using the church for meetings in reference to the principles then at stake. and the great crisis of the hour. Among the few who left him was his beadle, of whom he hoped better things, though that official, in the exercise of his calling, had not done much to help the meetings of 1840. All that Mr. Milne said to him on meeting him was, Oh, Joseph, your name should have been Judas, not Joseph. Little was known of Joseph subsequently. He died, I believe, some years ago, and his wife, upon her deathbed, sent for Mr. Milne, as if she could not die without her old minister, whom she and her husband had deserted. There was hope in her death. Conversing one day with a minister before the disruption and finding that he, notwithstanding the professions of former years, was resolved not to let go his hold of the establishment, Mr. Milne turned suddenly round upon him and said, I see how it is. You are just like Issachar. You see that the land is pleasant and rest good and so you are about to bow your shoulder to bear. The words were fitly spoken and were true of others besides the minister thus addressed. In the great gathering in St. Andrew's Church, Edinburgh, on the well-known 18th of May, 1843, Mr. Milne was present, as might have been expected. He and I were together. He lingered a little behind or rather went back to look, as he said, at the faces of the moderates. He rejoined me immediately. And, along with Mr. Thomas Brown, now of the Dean Church, Edinburgh, we walked together to Tanfield. About two months before this, on the 25th of March, Robert McShane died, and some of us have not yet forgotten him, though he has been absent from us these six and twenty years. How Mr. Milne felt the removal of one with whom he had been so intimately and lovingly associated, the following letter to Mr. Somerville will show. My dearest brother, I am thankful to find that our hearts answer to one another at this season. I also feel a tenderer, stronger love for the survivors of our now diminished circle. I suppose we both feel like a mother who has had one of her little ones taken away and startedly clasps the remainder more closely to her heart. I never apprehended danger till our brother was gone, and even now I don't think I have realized the fact that I shall never see him again on earth. I shall not, I suppose, realize it till I am in Dundee. His being in heaven makes me feel it nearer, dearer, and more familiar. He is another witness. Let us lay aside every weight. I think God is, in some degree, answering the prayer that He would give us a double portion of His Spirit. I think I feel more fixedly crucified and soft than I did. I regard this operation of God's hand as the loudest note we have yet had of the war trumpet and the clearest intimation that our help is in the Lord of hosts. But let us quit us like men. He who overcometh shall inherit all things. And now let us love one another and be more faithful and pray more frequently and more earnestly. The only real friends I have ever had in the world are the little family of Jacob. of whom Joseph is now away. Nowhere do we open our hearts to one another but at the throne of grace, O unspeakable privilege of knowing and being known. My heart warms and enlarges as I muse. Look at Hosea 5, 15 and 5, 1 through 3. These are the texts I am thinking of for tomorrow forenoon and afternoon. Pray for me on Thursday evening. Like you, I was, in speaking with our people who have been most widely and deeply affected, led to think on the words, our friend Lazarus sleepeth, as conveying the idea's rest, refreshment, awakening, security in Jesus, with Christ and will come again. The two thoughts that occurred were, is it well with him? And, shall we see him again? I ask your prayers. I shall make mention of you tomorrow, Sabbath, and ask that you may find it a day of more abundant life to those who live, and of quickening to those who are still dead. We have one fewer to pray for tonight. I never thought of it till now. I think it will be good if you stay. We may never meet again on earth, ever yours affectionately, J.M. Such were his first thoughts, when the tidings of that heavy stroke reached him, coming as it did when our sky was dark with clouds, and when man's help had been found vain, the death of one so steadfast threw a deep solemnity over many of us. What had God in store for us? Was it evil or good? Were our feet to be set in a large place, or were we to be broken in pieces? The thoughts of many hearts were revealed by that sudden sorrow. It told widely and efficaciously. It threw us more upon our true prop. It braced us for stormy and laborious days. How far it is still telling on the church and the ministry we do not seek to determine. The church is but too ready to forget her best. The following year, the memoir of Mr. McShane was published in two small volumes by Mr. Bonner of Colas. A copy was sent from the author to Mr. Milne, and the following is the letter from him acknowledging the gift. My dear brother, I have just received your kind gift, which I value as showing that I have a place in the heart of a friend of Jesus. I think I feel more heart joy in this love than in thousands of... No, there is no comparison. For such things cannot be weighed with balances together. How strange it seems that one with whom we were so intimate is now in such a different state. And yet it seems as if there could not be much change upon his mind, and as if, when we met him, he would be just the same. I find it difficult to think of Jesus thus. And yet, if I could, I think I should be very happy to feel that he would just say to us the very words that he used to say on earth. Shall we look for a blessing on Sabbath? I am weary and worn, but His grace is sufficient if we could, or rather would, but cast ourselves wholly undoubtedly. upon it, how unkind it is to doubt His grace. I am sure there is nothing we shall one day blush at so much as our doubting, suspecting faith. It is almost worse than blind unbelief. I was struck with this verse today when I first opened my Bible, Acts 27, 32. Then the soldiers cut off the ropes of the boat and let it fall off. O to have nothing but the arc to look to for happiness as well as safety! But weak and irresolute is man, yet his purposes shall stand, and he will do all his pleasure. You will be pleased with the appearance of the volumes. They are very handsome, without and within. I am not sublime enough to disregard these things. I am going to begin the perusal and trust that, like many of the brethren, I shall find it life from the dead. Let us look for a blessing, in consequence, on Sabbath. I shall expect it and, meanwhile, am yours very affectionately, J. M. App." After the disruption, matters went on with vigor, though opposition did not lessen. Widespread interests, full churches, a fervent ministry, the preaching of the gospel everywhere in barns, fields, moors, highways, large and manifest blessing on the words spoken, such things as these marked the latter half of 843. Before this, and while still in the established church, we were in some respects under restraint. The moderate clergy did not invite us to their pulpits, and we were hindered from preaching in the villages around by the law of use and want, if not by the law of the Church. Souls in earnest, some newly awakened, some long groping their way to light, used to come to us from many a parish, and this gave offence. We were warned as to the peril of transgressing parish boundaries, either in visiting or preaching. The people could not, of course, be prevented from coming to us, but we could be prevented by ecclesiastical censure from receiving them, at least as members, if not as hearers. Matters were becoming more irksome every week, both for minister and people. Some of us would soon have been embroiled with our brethren in the courts of the church. We could not help ourselves. God was awakening human souls. These awakened ones would not and could not remain under lifeless pastors, They would go where they would be fed. The question was becoming serious for many of us. The severance came and the difficulty was at an end. They who had denied us their pulpits could not now shut us out of their parishes. They who, when we were co-presbyters, threatened us, could no longer trouble us. The event, which they had made inevitable, and by which they had hoped to crush us, placed us at once beyond their reach. Interdicts were now out of the question. They had, unwittingly, let loose the very evangelists whom they had been laboring to restrain. We went abroad over the length and breadth of the land, preaching the everlasting gospel, not slow to avail ourselves of the many open doors which on every hand invited us to enter. That summer and winter were busy months in Scotland. The labor was great, but the interest was greater, and the success was manifest. No one of us has ever grudged the cost, or the weariness, or the self-denial of that never-to-be-forgotten time. Mr. Milne was a most energetic worker in season and out of season. Perth itself and the villages around were the special scenes of his labor. He spared no toil. He delighted to preach the gospel among the rural population of the district, and his brethren were glad to have his help, though it was often the help of an overwrought worker. Sometimes he walked on his preaching expeditions, and the distances which he accomplished were great. Sometimes he rode or drove, and he was not always considerate toward the beast he made use of, as he was a fearless rider and rather a reckless driver. Yet he was more merciful to the animal than to himself. One stormy Saturday he had set out for Oxerarder to assist his friend Mr. Smeaton at his communion on the Sabbath. Such was the snow that the mail-gig was stopped. Mr. Milne tried a horse, but it could not proceed. He did not hesitate, but set out in the deep snow on foot, and after hours of waiting and struggling he reached the village, some thirteen miles off. It was perhaps the remembrance of this that in after days made him write as follows, when, having missed the train to Instruther to which he was proceeding, he had to go on to Dysart. I am pretty well, not very robust, and it is perhaps as well that I have not a meeting on my hands after the journey. I always think now that all is for the best, whereas long, long ago I should certainly have set out and walked the fifteen or sixteen miles from this to Instruther. On one of these same snowy winter nights he preached at Newtyle, a small village some eighteen miles eastward of Perth where Mr. McShane had often preached. The meeting was late. It was very deep snow. The night was dark, but he was bent on returning home immediately. He set out on horseback, in spite of remonstrances, and pressed on. The road was quite obliterated by the drift, and he proceeded sometimes in fields, sometimes in ditches, sometimes on the tops of walls, and sometimes on the road itself, endangering both man and beast, reaching Perth between three and four in the morning, utterly exhausted. In our after-talks about this imprudent exploit he did not defend himself, but said that he was very anxious to be home that night. There was never found a lion in his way when he had to go out to visit a sick member or preach the gospel of Christ or minister comfort to the bereaved. To some the disruption was a sacrifice. To others it was simply a deliverance. It was more of the latter than of the former to Mr. Mill. Yet those to whom it was a sacrifice, and to not a few it was so, were the last to speak of it as such. They bore poverty and hardship without a murmur. It would have been better for us had we, as a church, forborne some subsequent boasts and allowed our doings and success to speak for themselves. The tide of blessing which, from 1837, had been flowing without intermission had not yet begun to ebb. Many were daily added to our living membership. The Church's true work went on happily in parts where it had already commenced, and it began in many places to which it had not yet reached. We look back on these months with thankful joy. Gladly should we live them over again, with all their tear and wear of body and mind, had we but our former strength and the hope of like success. No one who passed through them would wish either to forget or underestimate the privilege of having been one of the labourers in the reaping of that blessed harvest. It would serve no good purpose to recall the strifes of that post-disruption time. In these Mr. Milne was but little involved, though none could be more resolute in maintaining the principles of the free Church. When I say that he was a thorough free churchman and not a mere separatist for the sake of company or consistency or political liberty, I am simply stating what all who were acquainted with him knew. His name stands among the subscribers of the deed of demission, and no one signed it more heartily or more intelligently than he. In his Indian diary of date December 2, 1854, this sentence occurs, sin produces sin and error, error. Thus, the Eurasianism of establishments has produced the voluntarism of our days. Happy they who keep the right and middle path. He was preaching in the south of Scotland in the open air about this time and a rumor went out that in his sermon he had attacked the Duke of Buccleuch, whose refusal of sites for churches had produced great bitterness of feeling. especially on the borders. His text was acquaint thyself with him and be at peace. And it was not likely that such a text could have been perverted by such a man for such a purpose. Before I had time to get an explanation from him of what had raised the report, we met at Newcastle on an evangelistic expedition. during which we held meetings in the streets and marketplace. The first text I heard him give out was the above, and he had scarcely begun when, in order to show what acquaintanceship was, he introduced a well-known name to illustrate the difference between knowing about a person and knowing a person. On the border wayside, he had named the Duke of Bucklewsh, in Newcastle, the Duke of Wellington, in neither case with the slightest disrespect. The origin of the rumor became obvious. Ignorance and malice had helped to set it a-going. He did not trouble himself to contradict it and it soon died away. Strongly as he felt during the disruption controversy he did not give way to sharp words. There was in his strongest statements a tone of kindliness and an absence of personality which tended to keep down angry feeling. He sought to give no needless offense. Yet he loved the free church and knew why he loved it. Between Mr. Milne and Mr. McShane there were points of likeness, yet of great unlikeness also. In appearance they were dissimilar. Both, indeed, were short-sighted and generally wore spectacles. They both walked nimbly and erectly, moving with an agility that spoke of inward joy. But the former was dark, the latter rather fair. The former was under the middle size, the latter considerably above it, which gave him a commanding appearance, especially on one occasion when not thinking himself high enough to overlook the audience, he mounted the stool which the minister used for kneeling, and on this elevation poured out one of his most energetic sermons to a congregation of some twelve hundred people. Both had a pleasant smile, but there was more of severity about the latter than the former. though the laughter of Mr. McShane was louder and more ringing than that of Mr. Milne. In both there was great plainness of speech, and indifference as to polish and ornament. Illustrations were to them not flowers for the fancy, but arrows for the conscience. In both there was an unearthly elevation of spirit alike in prayer and preaching, which lifted up the hearer unconsciously along with the speaker. In both there was deep solemnity of voice, though in Mr. Milne there was more of the natural, we might almost say the conversational tone than in Mr. McShane. Both were vehement in denouncing sin, the latter never pausing to smooth down his words, as if afraid of calling things by too strong names, the former uttering the same denunciations more courteously and with less liability to be misunderstood or to call up opposition. Both of them were at first long preachers. Both, like our Reformers, used homely illustrations. Both spoke without manuscript or note before them, easily and plainly, right into their people's eyes. Both thoroughly believed the creed which they had subscribed, and both preached the good news concerning the work finished on the cross and all their unconditional freeness. No man ever mistook their calling, or supposed them to be anything but ambassadors for Christ. In public and in private they were felt to be men of God on the watch for souls. Mr. Milne kept back nothing from his people, but spoke freely and boldly of all current events and controversies. He was one of the few who could without awkwardness or difficulty introduce any subject into the pulpit, either in prayer or discourse. The little things of the day as well as the great things were all woven into his ministrations from Sabbath to Sabbath in a way which made one sometimes wonder, sometimes admire, and sometimes smile. You required to be rather careful what you told him before he went into the pulpit. for you were quite sure that the event or topic mentioned would find its way into some part of the service, and your name along with it. His first morning prayer in church was always very remarkable for the minute fullness with which it entered into the various cases that had come before him. It might be sickness or pain or losses or bereavements or anxieties or spiritual trouble. Everyone was specially indicated and prayed for. This was one of the tenderest and closest of his pastoral bonds. For thus while his affections were flowing out towards his flock, theirs were drawn towards each other. In many other ways did his ready sympathies get vent to themselves, far beyond his own people. Wherever he heard of sorrow, thither a note from him found its way or a call was made. And if the parties could not be seen, his card was sent in with John 14, one or some such text, penciled on it, and love and sympathy written above or below his name. A friend was setting off by rail to the Edinburgh dentist. The stationmaster was sent to him with Mr. Milne's card and a British messenger, this being added in pencil, May your dental bezeleel get unusual help. Yours ever, J.M. But these characteristics, though now mentioned in connection with this period of his ministry, marked the whole of it down to its close. At no time did he seem to feel the slightest difficulty in referring to all the movements or events around. Yet all was solemn, all was genial and kindly. He never meddled with politics, though he formed his judgment on all passing events. I dare say he would have supported a Christian man in a parliamentary election if needful, for he did not think, with some in our day, that none but unconverted men should have anything to do with the affairs of the state. But certainly he stood aloof from political partisanship as secularizing and deteriorating, though he would, I doubt not, have admitted the vast difference between a political Christian and a Christian politician. His private and conversational remarks on men and things showed that he had not shut his eyes to public occurrences, and that he found in his daily newspaper materials for thought as well as subjects for thanksgiving and prayer. Even when he read literature in the news of the day, he forthwith sought to turn all to use in some department of his ministry or some form of personal edification, He had far more shrewdness and insight into character than many, judging by his kindly simplicity, gave him credit for. He was a most unsuspicious man, and yet with discerning eye, he might not be the best at giving counsel in an emergency. But even then, as well as at other times, his fruitful active mind would suggest thoughts, or bring up a text, out of which you could extract the advice needed. At times hasty in his conclusions, and not seldom impulsive in his plans, he would accept or reject a friend's arguments too readily, as if he were irresolute, when he was not really so. A peacemaker everywhere, he had his own ways of making peace. Sometimes he would take hold of the hands of the parties and put them into each other. And sometimes, as in meetings of session or meetings for consultation, when any heat threatened to arise, he would stop and say, let us sing the 133rd Psalm, behold how good a thing it is, etc. He belonged to that candid school which hopeth all things 1 Corinthians 13 7, but not to that whose charity consists in palliating evil or pleading for error or excusing departures from the faith. If anyone showed him any slight or injured him, he made it a matter of conscience to show special kindness to the injurer. Not as if he did not feel the unkindness, for he was acutely sensitive, but as if bent on overcoming evil with good and on refusing to be affronted in any effort for the welfare of a soul. As he and I were walking together one day, we passed a gentleman who bowed. Detaching himself from me, Mr. Milne went after him and talked kindly to him. Rejoining me, he said, that man does not like me and frequently shows this, but I must win him over. He frequently bought articles in a shop where the master was surly. He knew that durum patientia mollet, translated, patient softens the harsh, he was asked. Why do you go back to a shop when your custom is not desired? I do it on purpose, he said. I'm trying to soften that man by kindness. He would scarcely speak to me at first, but I'm getting around him and hope to come to close quarters someday. End of the Life of John Milne, Chapter 6. This audio was created with an artificial voice for the audiobook initiative on Sermon Audio. There may be mispronunciations or occasional repetitions. To report a mistake, please email us at info at sermonaudio.com and include the sermon ID or title of the message and the time at which the error occurs. We will do our best to get it corrected for future listeners.