Reid A Cameronian Apostle AV.

286 Appendix.

V.

An Elegy upon the much lamented Death of that Religious and Virtuous Gentlewoman, Mrs. Mary Gordon, Daughter to the Honourable Sir Alexander Gordon of Earlstoun, and Spouse, first to Edward Goldie of Craigmuie, and thereafter to the Reverend Mr. John M‘Millan, Minister of the Gospel at Balmaghie; who departed this life the fifth day of May, 1723, and of her age the forty-third year. Edinburgh: 1723.

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[Reprinted from Mr. Macmath’s copy, once in the library of Principal Lee: a perfect and beautiful print of 16 pages, with deep mourning border. An “Acrostick” at the close is also reprinted here. Though anonymous, like all Macmillan’s publications, the internal evidence leaves no room to doubt that it is his work. The resemblance is marked between this “elegy,” and the epitaph in Balmaghie churchyard, both in rhythm and ideas.]

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WHAT dismal sound strikes mine affrighted ears!

What dumpish* looks I see! what floods of tears!

Why stand such crowds of mourners all around?

Why sighs and sobs from every breast resound?

Why children, friends, attendants, all deplore

Their loss, and cry, Alas! she breathes no more!

Why sinks her husband in heart-killing grief,

Which finds no vent, admits of no relief?

Ah! cease your wonder: Why? This dismal blow

Gives just occasion for such mighty woe.

_____

* Dumps and Dumpish, now words of comedy, were at this time of serious import.—Ed.

Appendix. 287

Stay till the Lady’s character you hear,

And on her hearse you’ll surely drop a tear;

You’ll join the train of mourners, and confess

That all who knew her worth can do no less.

We pass her honourable, high extract,

From which envy itself cannot detract;

For why* untainted honour and renown

Has always grac’d the House of Earlstoun;

Since that the humble saint ne’er sought a name

Built on the trophies of ancestors’ fame,

But chose their piety to imitate,

Rather than worldly greatness emulate.†

In youth, her godly mother’s steps she trac’d,

And her good counsel readily embrac’d;

And hence the virgin-saint became the heir

Of her rich graces and endowments rare.

Ev’n as the potter casts the clay, with ease,

Into what shapes soe’er his fancy please,

Her pious parents formed her tender age

With godly precepts and with counsels sage;

And as the thirsty earth drinks up the rain,

To yield it back with rich increase again,

So she imbibed with pleasing readiness,

And did those precepts in her life express.

Indulgent Nature, like a palace fair,

Had deck’d her body with perfections rare;

The inward beauties of her mind did glance,With graceful mildness, in her countenance.

Her heav’n-born soul, ev’n in her tender years,

Began to feel those heart-awak’ning fears

Of hell and wrath, those Sinai’s thunder-claps,

Which souls in deep distress an’ anguish wraps,‡

_____

* I.e., because.—Ed.

† Compare the epitaph.—Ed.

‡ The singular verb to a plural noun is characteristic of Macmillan’s style.—Ed.

288 Appendix.

And binds ’em in law-fetters, till they see

Their need of Christ, and His sufficiency

To save from sin and from deserved wrath,

By virtue of His meritorious death.

To Him she fled, He was the only port

To which her tosséd soul did make resort.

In all her straits, her conflicts, doubts, and fears,

She ran to Him with earnest pray’rs and tears,

And with a stedfast faith she did rely

Upon His grace and all-sufficiency.

Hence, ardent love to precious Christ possessed

The cabinet of her unspotted breast,

Attended with pure love to all His saints,

His truths, His int’rests, cause and Covenants;

With prudent, peaceful, stedfast, fervent zeal,

For Christ, His glory, and His Church’s weal.

What tongue or pen* her graces can recite?

In Christian virtues she was so complete;—

Sweet-natur’d, yet not softly pliable,

Reserv’d, and yet discreetly affable:

Modest and humble; grave and temperate,

To poor and needy still compassionate:

Saving and frugal, but not covetous:

Could please her husband, and govern her house,

Yet could her heart and fittest hours reserve

Her God and Saviour dear to seek and serve.

There shone all virtues in her pious life;

Which grace the virgin, and adorn the wife;

But true devotion always bore the sway,

Both in her closet and her family.

Just as the new-born babe, with earnest cries,

Demands the breast, which if it wants, it dies;

Ev’n thus her thirsty soul long’d for the Word

And precious statutes of her lovely Lord.

_____

* Compare Rutherford’s epitaph in St. Andrews, said to have been written by the well-known William Wilson of Douglas, who left Macmillan’s ministry in 1743.—Ed.

Appendix. 289

The Holy Bible was her heart’s delight,

To read by day, to meditate by night.

As the chaste virgin doth with joy read over

Love-letters sent her from her dearest lover,

Thus she the sacred Scriptures entertain’d

As sweet love-letters from her choicest Friend—

Whilst many of her sex do love to gaze

On mortal beauty’s little fading blaze,

Her chaste pure eyes delighted oft to look

Within the volume of that blessèd Book.

This was the mirror where she us’d to spy

Her nature’s spots, and soul-deformity,

Which drove her straight to the true Jordan’s flood,

The laver of her dear Redeemer’s blood;

Where, bath’d by faith, her soul did fairer show

Than purest wool, or whitest hills of snow.

Most of her rank this holy book despise:

Swine prize not pearls, nor these, heav’n’s mysteries.

Give them romances, wanton songs and plays,

They throw the Bible by for holy days.

But not so she. This kept her company

In church, in closet, and in family.

Believe not us: trust your own eyes, and see:

Her own remarks the truth will testify.

Revolve her Bible: scarce you’ll find a place

Which suits a poor afflicted sinner’s case,

But you’ll perceive it has been sweet to her,

And in her doubts and fears a comforter.

These latent marks will set before your eyes,

The various turns of her soul-exercise:

These threat’nings witness her soul-wounding fears,

These penitential places, mark’d, her tears,

Her griefs and sorrows of a godly kind,

And deep distresses of a humbled mind.

The precepts, mark’d, say that her gracious will

His holy law was ready to fulfil.

She had His statutes gravèd on her heart,

And could not from His righteous way depart.

But most of all, she mark’d the promises,

Which were her chief support in soul-distress.

290 Appendix.

Upon God’s gracious covenant she hung;

Compar’d with Christ, all things were loss and dung

In her account: God’s covenanted love,

And sweet communications from above,

Afforded her more comfort and content

Than all the gold and pearls of th’ Orient.

Riches were only toys in her esteem,

The worldling’s joys only a golden dream.

Eternal joy and glory was the prize,

And heav’n the goal, she set before her eyes.

She spurn’d beneath her feet this clod of earth,

And her ambition show’d her heavenly birth,

Which never spent itself in chase of fame,

Nor airy titles, and an empty name

Of worldly grandeur, dazzling vulgar eyes;

But her ambition was, her Lord to please.

She liv’d at home, and carefully did scan

Her own soul’s case: she watch’d her inner man.

Gentle to others, to herself severe,

Her neighbour’s failings patiently could bear

And hide beneath love’s mantle; but no way

Would she indulge her own infirmity:

Not like the mad professors now-a-days,

Who love on others’ falls to build their praise;

Censorious ones, who like abroad to roam,

And seldom search into their hearts at home.

And yet, she was no Gallio; still she car’d

What way her Mother Church, poor Zion, far’d.

Look through the Prophets, how she mark’d each place

Judiciously, which toucheth Zion’s case.

With her poor Mother Zion she laments

Departed glory, broken Covenants;

And yet, in stedfast hope of better days,

Herself upon the promises she stays.

The Godly Remnant’s case lay near her heart;

In all their wrestlings still she bore a part.

She lov’d and honour’d all, who in the least

Her Father’s image in their lives expressed;

Appendix. 291

But those that were most zealous in His cause,

And made most conscience to observe His laws,

She prizéd most: their mean obscurity

Could ne’er make her despise their company.

She chose her lot* with these despised ones,

Whom she esteem’d the Church’s truest sons;

Which yet on her did no disgrace reflect,

But rather aggrandiz’d her just respect;

For those that honour God shall honour’d be,

Whilst worldlings’ glory turns to infamy.

It was her careful endeavour, through grace,

Still to fill up the duty of her place.

In each relation, daughter, mother, wife,

She led a holy and a useful life.

She hated idleness and luxury,

Superfluous cost and prodigality,

Our gentry’s pests, rank nurseries of vice,

Which grows apace to a prodigious size

In these our sinning days, the dregs of time,

And stains our land with every horrid crime.

She was a pattern of that golden age,

When virtue acted nobly on the stage,

And did obtain the plaudit of the great,

Till shameless, daring vice usurped the seat.

Whilst dainty dames mind nought, but how to please

And pamper their proud flesh with wanton ease,

This Lady, like a lamp or candle bright,

Which spends itself in giving others light,

Laid out herself, how she might best promote

The good of others, by a generous love.

Hence, though of all the world she sought it least,

She gain’d a just esteem in every breast—

At least, the good and wise, who have the sense

To put a value on true excellence.

_____

* Perhaps a reference to her marrying Macmillan, a deposed minister, and himself of no exalted birth or origin.—Ed.

292 Appendix.

Her children, whom she did with care instruct,

And by her own example did conduct

In paths of virtue and true piety,

Which lead to blessèd immortality;

And bred in each genteel accomplishment,

Which might be to their lives an ornament,

These, in the deepest gratitude, do all

Arise, and with one voice her Blessed call.

But most of all, her husband speaks her praise;

His dumpish* nights, his melancholy days,

His silent sobs, do vocally proclaim

How much he reck’néd her his diadem,

His joy, his comfort, and his sweet solace,

His sympathizing friend in ev’ry case.

Oh! had you seen, when she departed hence,

His manly virtue struggling ’gainst his sense,

With what hard conflict reason did control

The mutinying passions of his soul,

Which did assault his mind with mighty shock,

As raging billows dash against the rock,

Which, though awhile it seem all covered o’er,

Yet keeps its station stedfast as before;

Though nature seem’d to yield, yet divine grace

Could calm these surging waves of grief apace.

Oh! had you heard, when once his silence broke,

How he his spouse’s commendation spoke:—

Might I complain (but God is just in all

The dispensations that His own befall:

Just, did I say? nay, He is also good,

(If Providence we rightly understood),

I might lament: But none my loss can rate,

Deprived of such a pleasant, loving mate,

My sweet companion, and my pious wife,

The comfort of my solitary life,

Whose chaste affection and well-grounded love,

_____

* See supra, p. 286.—Ed.

Appendix. 293

As it was ardent, so did constant prove:

The partner of my sp’ritual joys and cares,

Witness her frequent fasts and fervent pray’rs,

The constant supplications she did make,

Not only for her own, but for my sake:—

That I might be kept stedfast in the way

Of holiness and of pure verity:

That I might be supported and upheld

In that great work to which my Master call’d,

And make the savour known in ev’ry place

Of my Redeemer’s love and boundless grace.

The Gospel’s success was her constant care,

This she implor’d with many a fervent pray’r:

She knock’d with holy importunity,

Nor did her Lord her earnest suit deny.

Some can, I hope, from sweet experience

Tell how the Word was back’d with influence.

And I can say it, to free grace’s praise,

That Sabbaths, since we met, prov’d pleasant days.

Those preparation-times she weekly kept,

Those watchful prayers and cries, whilst others slept,

Return’d not empty, but, like Noah’s dove,

Sweet olive-boughs of peace brought from above.

Though oft, along the week, she us’d to be

Detain’d abed by sore infirmity,

Yet on the Sabbath still she would arise,

As soon as morning-beams did gild the skies:

Which time she spent not, as most ladies use,

In costly dressing, of their time profuse,

But did with Mary Magdalen accord,*

Betimes to seek a crucifiéd Lord.

And hence she came the preachéd Word to hear

With longing heart, and with attentive ear.

The Word she counted her delicious food,

In it her soul found satisfying good.

Whilst many hearers only love the sound,

To her, it did with life and sap abound.

_____

* A reference to her Christian-name: compare epitaph.—Ed.

294 Appendix.

To see the Word despised was her grief,

Whether through prejudice or unbelief;

To see the message kindly entertain’d

Afforded her content and joy of mind.

Ah! when I call to mind those solemn days

Wherein we jointly used to pray and praise,

How, Jacob-like, she wept and wrestled so,

As not to let the Cov’nant-Angel go,

Till she attain’d the stedfast hope, that He

Would look upon His Church’s misery,

And send His sinking Remnant such relief,

As would make joy succeed in place of grief,

The fainting spirits of His folk revive,

And cause poor Israël’s dry bones to live,

When each disjointed bone shall come to bone,

And His poor people be unite in one:—

I can’t but say, when this I call to mind,

That not poor I alone have lost a friend;

The Church of Christ hath lost a pillar too:

No wonder, if the house begin to bow,

Whenas the strongest props are pull’d away,

As may be seen in this our dismal day.

Good cause have my poor flock of Balmaghie

To mourn their signal loss in losing thee!

And that small Remnant, scattered through the land,

To which I likewise in relation stand,*

Have lost a wrestler at the throne of grace,

Who sympathiz’d with their afflicted case.

Ah! when those pleasant hours to mind I call,

When we convers’d on things spiritual,

With what sagacity and lively sense,

With what sweet feeling and experience,

She us’d to talk of her Redeemer’s love,

Th’ eternal world, and unseen joys above;

It rapts my mind into an ecstasy

Of mixéd joy and grief, to think of thee!

_____

* Macmillan had been pastor of the United Societies since 1706.—Ed.

Appendix. 295

Her dear idea to my mind presents

All Christian virtues and accomplishments:

Deep self-denial, and humility,

Sure badges of true Christianity:

A cheerful, patient bearing of the rod,

Though sharp and sore, as from the hand of God:

Great readiness to pardon injuries,

When wrong’d by proud, malicious enemies;

(For seldom doth a dandled Joseph live

Without some archers, him to wound and grieve:)

Her trust in God, and humble confidence

Upon her heavenly Father’s Providence,

For rich supplies, to furnish all her wants:

Her love to precious Christ, and to the saints:

Sweet resignation to her Maker’s will,

And readiness to render good for ill;

In short, all lovely graces she possessed,

No virtue was a stranger to her breast.

And as she liv’d a saint, so did she die

With sweet composure and serenity.

Full well she knew of her approaching death,

And was prepared to resign her breath.

The Sabbath last, which she in time enjoy’d,

Though weak, in holy converse she employ’d.

Some* select Scriptures first she caus’d be read,

Then, in a sweet composèd frame, she said:—

“Oft have I in my house of pilgrimage,

When all the gates of hell did seem to rage

’Gainst my poor soul, when all my deadly foes,

The Dev’l, the World, the Flesh, against me rose,

When heav’n above my head did seem to frown

With wrathful storms, and floods me swallow down,

When Sinai’s flashes from thick darkness broke,

And when law-threat’nings direful vengeance spoke:

Oft have I found my drooping sp’rits upheld,

And the Devourer’s fiery darts repell’d,

_____

* viz., Psal. 25, and Revel. 1st, 2nd, 3rd chapters.

296 Appendix.

By those sweet Scriptures: these have oft reviv’d

My sinking soul, and from distress reliev’d.

And now, in death, I find these words of truth

More sweet by far than honey to my mouth.

Now to the Lamb, that lov’d and washéd me

In His own precious blood, all glory be!

But oh! who can describe that massy love,

Which brought Him from His glorious throne above?

A shameful, painful, curséd death to die

Upon the Cross; and this for wretched me—

For me, a rebel, born an heir of wrath,

Justly obnoxious to eternal death!

When shall I join in endless harmony

With saints above, His love to magnify?

The fight’s near finish’d now: blest Jesus, come,

Give me my passport hence, and take me home!”

He heard from heav’n, and granted her request,

For Sabbath next prov’d her eternal rest.

How much she had the work of God at heart,

Ev’n when her soul was ready to depart,

Was evident in her farewell to me,

Expressed with tender love and sympathy:—

“Farewell, my dear, since the divine decree

Forbids that I should longer dwell with thee:

Thy company to me was sweet indeed,

But now I go to mine exalted Head,

My best-belov’d Bridegroom, who’s sweeter far

To me, than all created comforts are.

Farewell, my dear, be faithful to the end,

And Jesus Christ will prove thy trusty Friend.

Be stedfast in His cause and Covenant,

And thou support from heav’n shalt never want.

And now, my dear, heaven’s blessing on thee rest—

I go to Christ, which is by far the best.”

She spoke; and in a trice her longing soul

Broke through the cage, and flew beyond the Pole,

Where now ’midst heav’nly choristers she sings

Eternal praises to the King of kings.

Appendix. 297

The sprightly babe, which leap’d within her womb

Some hours before, now finds its bed a tomb.

And thus with double trial I’m assail’d,

Bereft of both my dearest spouse and child.*

But since the Lord Himself hath order’d it,

I’ll to His just and holy will submit;

Nay, at the providence I dare not grieve,

Since I have solid reasons to believe,

That, as their dust doth undistinguish’d lie,

Their souls did pass to heav’n in company:

His faithful cov’nant-promise doth proceed,

Not only to believers, but their seed.

Guilty it was, as Adam’s progeny,

But grace, even in the womb, can sanctify.

And now, since my best earthly comfort’s gone,

The world to me is more distasteful grown.

I long to get above the fleeting world,

Where with incessant motion all is whirl’d.

I long to have my firm and sure abode,

And be a pillar fix’d in th’ House of God,

That upper House, where light and glory dwells,

Where the least saint the radiant sun excels.

When shall I stand before His glorious throne,

And see that high-exalted Three in One?

Whom seraphs with veil’d countenance adore,

And martyrs cast their crowns His feet before.

When shall I join with dear relations gone,

And tune my harp to laud the Highest One?

Whilst dwelling in this vale of misery,

Discordant jars oft mar our harmony;

But in that goodly glorious mount above,

Nought dwells but perfect peace and perfect love.

Thither my longing soul sometimes aspires,

But sluggish flesh anon damps my desires.

Oh, when shall I from this dull flesh be freed,

And drink fresh pleasures at the fountain-head?

Time, make swift paces, waft me o’er the line,—

I nothing claim on this base earth as mine!

_____

* He had no children by his first marriage.—Ed.

298 Appendix.

ACROSTIC.

M ajestic mildness grac’d her countenance;

A dmir’d endowments made her amiable,

R eligious really, not in pretence:

Y ielding to good, to ill uncounsellable.

G race rais’d her soul ’bove mean and vulgar aims,

O rder’d her steps in new obedience.

R enownéd virtues were her brightest gems,

D evotion, join’d with frugal diligence.

O blivion’s abyss shall not drown her fame;

N or livid envy blast her balmy name.