V. Presbyterial and Congregational Life.
James Dodson
FOR a period of over sixty years, the General Meetings conducted all business transactions in connection with the body. It does not appear that their ministers had any say in the affairs brought under discussion at these meetings, as they were never appointed to represent any local society. On several occasions, when they had any matter to bring before the meeting, they were admitted to make their statement, then they immediately retired; after it had been considered, and a finding come to by the delegates, they were re-admitted, and the judgment of the meeting intimated. At first, these meetings were a source of great power in keeping the people together, and no doubt, for many a long year, did good work; but they were now about to give place to a new organisation, whereby they were to become constituted into a regular Presbyterian Church, and form one of the many branches into which that Church in Scotland is deplorably divided.
On the first day of August, 1743, Mr M‘Millan and Mr Nairn, along with some elders, gave each other the right hand of fellowship, and constituted themselves into a Church court. They took the name of the Reformed Presbytery.
This meeting was held at a place called Braehead, in Lanarkshire. There are, however, two places of that name in the county. Some hold it to be Braehead in the parish of Carnwath, while others maintain that it is Braehead in the parish of Dalserf. It is to be feared there are now no
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means of definitely deciding between the two places. The only thing that can be said in favour of Dalserf is that Mr M‘Millan lived there for many years after he left Balmaghie, and the house in which he lived was called Braehead. On the other hand, oral tradition has always called it Braehead in the parish of Carnwath. Besides, there was a large number of Cameronians in that village, and a preaching station was kept in it for a long time by the minister of Pentland. It is worth noting that such a change in the constitution of the body was not likely to take place in a private house.
At Bothwell, on the 20th September, 1750, the Presbytery ordained the son of Mr M‘Millan, also called John M‘Millan, to the office of the holy ministry; and three years after, the father and founder of the Reformed Presbyterian Church breathed his last in the parish of Dalserf, in the full assurance of faith and hope of the glory of God. It must have been a source of great comfort for him, even in the trying hour of death, to see his son standing by his bedside ready to take up and carry on the work which lay so near his heart. His last words were—“My Lord, my God, my Redeemer, yea, mine own God is He.”
The Presbytery at first met at various places, such as Braehead, Bothwell, Poniel, Peebles, Crawfordjohn, Wanlockhead, and Pentland, near Edinburgh. Douglas was ultimately the headquarters and the chief seat of the Presbytery. The meetings were held in the Mason Lodge, and the members usually found accommodation for themselves in the inn. It was to this same inn that the head and hands of Richard Cameron were brought, while being taken to Edinburgh. The window is still pointed out where they were laid till the troopers were ready to resume their journey. When there was to be a meeting of the
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Presbytery, several of the members arrived the night before, and certain bedrooms were retained for favourite ministers. The younger men, to try the landlord, would sometimes ask if they might have such and such a bedroom, when he would reply—“Weel, ye may have it if Mr So-and-so doesn’t come; but if he does, you must turn out.” The evening was spent in friendly conversation. It is said that they were sedate and grave, but neither gloomy nor severe, that they all relished a friendly chat and enjoyed a hearty laugh. A more contented and cheerful set of men could scarcely be met. The minister and his elder usually travelled together—the elder paying the travelling expenses of his pastor, as they had a saying among them that ministers should keep open mouths, but shut purses. The evening and the tavern closed with family worship. On one occasion, the minister who was to conduct the worship asked the landlord where he was reading at family prayers. He looked rather put out for a second or two, and, when pressed for an answer, replied—“Conscience! just where ye left off when ye were here last.” This blunt reply nearly upset the gravity of the company, and the story was long kept up on “mine host.”
For nearly twenty years after the formation of the Presbytery, although there were several ordained ministers, the adherents of the body were regarded as only one congregation, the work being overtaken by means of preaching stations. The services were conducted in the centre of some wide-spread district, and there, on the mountain or on the moor, they assembled themselves for worship, and were called “hill men.” They had their tent preachings in the field when the ground was white with snow, and at such times, the voice of prayer and praise had a peculiar solemnity.
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Ultimately they became divided into two congregations—the Northern and the Southern—and as time went on, these were again sub-divided. The district assigned to the Northern congregation extended from Glasgow to Pentland, near Edinburgh, and the oversight of this charge was undertaken by the Rev. John M‘Millan, with the Rev. John Thorburn as his colleague. The Southern congregation lay between Douglasdale and Quarrelwood, near Dumfries. It was also a collegiate charge, with the Rev. John Curtis and the Rev. John Fairley ministers. They were familiarly known as “The four Johns,” and their time was regarded as the golden era of Cameronian history. The vigorous intellect of John Thorburn, the mild dignity of John M‘Millan, the homely but forcible eloquence of John Fairley, and the affectionate disposition of John Curtis, were topics of familiar conversation among the Cameronians long after they had passed away.
Each congregation had several preaching stations, and in order to reach these, ministers had to make long journeys on horseback. They were frequently away from home for several weeks at a time. In those days, the word of the Lord was precious with them. The difficulty of reaching the place where members were wont to assemble, the long interval before a preacher could come round again, enhanced the value of the services when they had the opportunity. We can easily imagine the warm and hearty welcome which would be bestowed upon some father of the Church when, in those simple, patriarchal times, he found his way, after a weary ride, into some of the remote and sequestered districts. There were no newspapers, no postal communication, and religious periodicals were not even thought of. No wonder, then, that they should welcome the long-looked-for preacher, for,
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besides being the servant of Christ to them, he was the only visible link between them and their widely-scattered brethren of the same testimony.
The services of public worship, especially on Communion days, were always prolonged to an undue length. The people, however, were themselves to blame for this, as they regarded with most favour the minister who could preach the longest sermon from the shortest text, and could use arguments with unsparing force in defending himself against other denominations. Five or six hours of worship was no uncommon experience, and often before the last psalm would be sung, the dew-drops were on their plaids, and the stars visible overhead. It was a great trial for the young to remain quiet through all these weary hours.
A young minister who came to preach at Douglas Water on one occasion, had brought with him a sermon which would take about forty minutes to deliver. The service then began at eleven o’clock forenoon. He asked how long the service usually lasted, and what time they expected him to conclude. He was told that they would expect to get away between three and four in the afternoon. “But,” said he, “I have only one sermon; I cannot keep you all that length of time. What am I to do?” The elders, however, gave him no sympathy. “We canna help it; ye’ll ha’e to stan’ yer time,” they said, as they walked away. The order of service, however, was quite in keeping with this long sederunt. They usually prefaced the psalm before singing it, explained the chapters while reading them, and lectured for fifty minutes or an hour, frequently on the history of the Kings of Judah or Israel; a sermon followed, nearly twice as long as the lecture; and, before concluding,
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there was a recapitulation of the whole service. In those circumstances, a sermon on the text, “Tarry ye at Jericho until your beards be grown,” would not have been out of place.
The people to whom these men ministered were no less remarkable than themselves. They were men of conscience and true piety. Some of them had uncommon gifts in prayer, and seemed to live far above earth or earthly things. They were strict observers of the Christian Sabbath as a day of rest to be kept holy. It was the privilege of their children to enjoy special religious instruction, and have the same enforced by a hallowed example. “Let me be anything in the Day of Judgment,” says a powerful writer, “rather than the irreligious child of religious parents.” The text-book for religious instruction was the Shorter Catechism, with easier questions for the young. This brief compendium of Christian doctrine divides itself into two parts—first, “What man is to believe concerning God,” up to and including the thirty-eighth question; the second, “The duty which God requires of man,” from the thirty-ninth to the end. These became the subject of examination on alternate Sabbath evenings, and this was called “Speerin’ the questions.” Children and servants committed these questions to memory, and although not fully understood at the time, they became the groundwork of a manly Christian character. There can be no doubt that the Shorter Catechism is the most wonderful production which we Presbyterians possess. Its logical sequence, the doctrine it teaches, the moral principles it enforces, have gone far to make Scotchmen the power they are felt to be, in every quarter of the globe.
The questions to the young were of a simpler nature—
“Who made you?”
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“God.”
“Who redeemed you?”
“Christ.”
“Who sanctifies you?”
“The Holy Ghost.”
“What are we made of?”
“Dust.”
“What does that teach us?”
“To be humble and mindful of death.”
After a few more such questions—
“Ay, ye’re gettin’ sleepy noo; ye’ll better gang to yer bed, an’ mind an’ say yer prayers.”
Then the mother would be occupied for a few minutes undressing the children and teaching the infant lips to say—
“This night, when I lie down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.”
“What was it the Presbyterians contended for in the time of the Stuart dynasty, Jamie?”
“The Church’s freedom from Popery, Prince, and Prelacy.”
“Yes. What means did they use to protect themselves?”
“The Covenants—the National Covenant and the Solemn League and Covenant.”
“What was the difference between the Covenants?”
“The National Covenant applied to Scotland only, while the Solemn League and Covenant included all the three kingdoms.”
“Could you tell me the date of the ‘killing time,’ Robbie?”
“During 1684 and 1685.”
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“Yes. That was the sorest time of the persecution; but, both before and after, many sealed their testimony with their blood, and obtained the martyr’s crown.”
Then would follow some interesting story of adventure and providential escape through which some Covenanter had passed. After singing a psalm, and prayer for family protection and divine grace, they retired to rest, at peace with God and man. From these homes there came forth a band of upright, trustworthy, God-fearing sons and daughters.
In the earlier days of the “four Johns,” there were no ecclesiastical buildings in connection with the denomination. It is generally supposed that the first building they possessed was a thatched cottage at Pentland; but it could scarcely be called a church, although it was used for the purpose of worship. It is impossible to say anything about the first church in Douglas Water, further than that it was covered with thatch. However, this much is known, that about the year 1789 it was re-built in a corner of the wood opposite Collierhall farmhouse. It was a plain structure with a slated roof, having a gallery at one end approached by an outside stone stair. Here the Rev. John Fairley for many years ministered to his little flock, until called to his rest and reward.