Tell Me the Old, Old Story —

Now in those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus, that a census be taken of all the inhabited earth.

This was the first census taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria.

And everyone was on his way to register for the census, each to his own city.

Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and family of David.

In order to register along with Mary, who was engaged to him, and was with child.

While they were there the days were completed for her to give birth.

And she gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

In the same region there were some shepherds staying out in the fields and keeping watch over their flock by night.

And an angel of the Lord suddenly stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were terribly frightened.

But  the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people;

for today in the city of David there  has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.

This will be a sign for you; you will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

And suddenly there appeared with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying

“Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased:

When the angels had gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds began saying to one another, “Let us go straight to Bethlehem then, and see this things that has happened which the Lord has made known to us.”

So they came in a hurry and found their way  to Mary and Joseph, and the baby as He lay in the manger.

When they had seen this, they made known the statement which had been told them about this Child.

And all who hear it wondered at the things which were told them by the shepherds.

But Mary treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart.

The shepherds went back, glorifying and praising God for all that they had heard and seen, just as had been told them.

Luke 2:1 – 21

Our post today comes from Rev. David T. Myers, our founding writer.

Dear readers of This Day in Presbyterian History!

Yes, I know that this is Christmas Eve!  But a post on Robert McGill  Loughridge  is not out of the question, since he was born on this day, December 24,1809, in Lawrenceville, South Carolina.  And what his calling to is unique in this day!  He was all his life as a missionary to the native American tribes of our great land. 

Much of this early  years are not given to us in the historical records.  His family, and earthly life are not detailed for us in the the pages of history.  We know that his college years were at Miami of Ohio, from which  he graduated from in 1837.  We know that  he followed up his college training at Princeton Seminary, but only for one year. Upon the death of his father, he returned home, but continued up his calling to spiritual work by being taught by his pastor for two years.

Licensed and ordained  to preach  by the presbytery of Tuscaloosa, Alabama on April  1741, he was appointed as a missionary to the Creek Native American tribe.  He appeared before the leaders of that tribe with the request to begin a school for their children AND to preach  to them and their parents the glorious doctrines  of the Bible.  He was turned down flat by the Indian chiefs and their families in the matter of the gospel, but was given permission to begin the school for the native American families.  

To this, our missionary replied that if the gospel of the Lord Jesus was not to be included in his calling to them, then he would  have to go to some other native American tribe!  They discussed his statement for several weeks, and then gave him permission to teach and spread the gospel of the Christian religion!

Missionary Rev. Robert Loughridge would stay and minister the blessed good news of the gospel, for the rest of his life.

Words to Live By: 
Faithfulness to one’s calling, especially  in  gospel proclamation, is essential as a servant of the Lord.  Let us all reconnect to our spiritual calling this Christmas season, in the new year, and beyond, whether it be in the home, through our  occupations, and out the church doors.

Our post today is drawn from THE NEW YORK OBSERVER, an old 19th-century Presbyterian newspaper. As you read, remember that the church is, of course, the people and not the building. Still, it is interesting how place comes to hold the memories and emotions that sum up the years. 

THE OLD CHURCH.

The days had woven themselves into months, and the months had grown silently into years, since I had entered the dear old church. And now my tired feet were turning thitherward once more. Ah, me! that it should be so, but I fear those feet have wandered far from the narrow way they had entered, in the long ago, beneath these sacred walls. Along the dusty highway of life, over its high mountains of danger and temptation, from whose summit I had caught visions of far off, fair Beulah; down into its deep valleys of sordid care and strife, into whose gloom no glimmer, even, of the heavenly brightness had ever entered, to the sound of funeral dirges, and of wedding marches, these weary feet have toiled, until at last they have come again to these sacred portals.

It is not a beautiful church; indeed, I believe people generally call it a very ugly one. But to me, the deep, low galleries, the tall, massive pillars, with the vast open dome brooding over all, are beautiful, for they are draped about with the prayers of the saluted dead, and the sweet peace of the “first love,” lingers like incense in the shadows. Even as I enter the narrow doors, the deep joy of the olden time, the trustful early love that was content to lay all things at the Father’s feet, and leaning on His bosom, wait calmly for the future, came stealing to my heart again.

Over there it was, I stood on that golden Sabbath morning, when God’s ambassador spoke to me in the presence of his people, saying: “Do you believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, that He loves you, and gave Himself for you?” And the peace that passeth knowledge came to my soul as I answered, forgetting the people and looking only into the face of the Lord—“I do.”

Then came the touch of the baptismal waters, and the words, “I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” And I stood in the presence of that crowd of seen and unseen witnesses, with His vows upon me. He only knows how sadly those baptismal robes have been stained, how often those vows have been broken.

In that corner pew I sat when first I took the emblems of my Redeemer’s dying love, while through my heart, above the tumultuous waves of love and adoration, went singing only these words, “Broken for me! Broken for me!”

Oh! it is to the weary wanderer like coming home again; home to sweet, sacred memories; home to loving hearts and warm welcome words. They are nearly all here that I used to meet on those olden Sabbaths; truly there are some vacant places, but they are not many; the children are a little older grown, and perhaps there are a few more wrinkles and silver hairs, marking the fathers and mothers, but they are nearly all the same, and the loving words and warm hand-pressures are the same they gave to the youthful pilgrim. God bless them.

It is peace and rest, after all the conflict, just to sit quietly here, in the old place, and with closed eyes drink in the sweet peace and joy of past and present pardon. To listen with a full heart to the well-known, well-loved voice that speaks from the square old pulpit, just the text my wayward heart needed: “Delight thyself in the Lord, and He shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass.” Yes, that was the God-sent message, to trust Him. In the past I had, indeed, commited my ways unto the Lord, but I had not trusted Him; and ever since I have been trying to shape them out myself.

To-day, please God, I’ll learn the double lesson: “Commit thy way unto the Lord, trust also in Him.” And perchance, in all the after-journey, whether I stand upon the mountain-top or go down into the valley, alike to both will come visions of fair Beulah, and back to heart and life shall come the early love and holy influences of this old church, to grow and broaden, till by God’s grace I stand within the golden portals of the heavenly temple.

—J.C.C.

THE NEW YORK OBSERVER, 48.33 (18 August 1870): 257, column 5.

Words to Live By:
Let us hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering; (for he is faithful that promised;)
And let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works:
Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching.
—Hebrews 10:23-25, KJV

He Gained the Martyr’s Crown

The enemies of the Covenanters had very long memories. Long after sermons were preached or actions taken, the authorities in Scotland remembered words and actions against them. Such was the case with a young minister by the name of Hugh McKail.

A child of the manse, from Bothwell, Scotland, his pastor father was one of those forced out of his pulpit and parish when he refused to conform to Prelacy.  Little is known of young Hugh’s early days, but he did go to Edinburgh for education. There he was soon marked out as a young man of exceptional ability. For that, upon graduation, he was chosen to be a chaplain and tutor of the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, Sir James Stewart. In that Covenanter home, he would sit at the feet of those in leadership positions in the church and learn of the dire situation facing both the church and the state.

In 1661, he applied to the Presbytery for licensure in the ministry. Preaching in a variety of situations, he was quickly recognized by his hearers for his great ability in the Word of God. However, his ministry soon came to an end as it became obvious that he wouldn’t compromise his convictions, just as his father before him.  Preaching his last sermon in a church in Edinburgh, he had a sentence in it which marked him for remembrance by the Prelate forces of his day. He said, “the Church is persecuted by a Pharaoh on the throne, a Haman in the State, and a Judas in the Church.” The identification was obvious to all in the pews that day.

Forced to leave his beloved Scotland, the young twenty-six year old would spend the next three years in Holland. On his return to Scotland, the situation had not improved any and there was a spark of rebellion in the air. That spark was ignited, as my post on November 28 indicated, at the Battle of Rullion Green. Hugh McKail was among the nine hundred in the Covenanter ranks that day. But his own physical weakness removed him before that great battle arrived, and he traveled to Edinburgh instead. There he was arrested by the authorities, not so much for his Covenanter attachments as for his statement made in that Edinburgh church some years before.

Interrogated in prison, he was placed in the Boot, a fearful torture device which all but crushed his leg while he remained silent in voice. He was ordered to die by hanging on December 22, 1666. His exact words that day of death have been preserved through the ages. They were:

Farewell father, mother, friends, and relations; Farewell the world and its delights; farewell meat and drink; farewell sun, moon, and starts; Welcome God and Father; welcome sweet Jesus Christ the mediator of the New Covenant; welcome blessed Spirit of grace, the God of all consolation; welcome glory, welcome eternal life; welcome death!  Into Thy Hands I commit my spirit.”

Words to Live By:
Could Hugh McKail have compromised his convictions and avoided suffering and death? Certainly, and many did. But this young man  was reared by a parent who by his example remained steadfast to the Word of God and the testimony of Jesus Christ. With such an example like that, it is no wonder the young minister was given over to sacrifice, in loyalty to both the Living and Written Word, come what may to his physical body. Addressing all parents reading these posts on Presbyterian history: Your life preaches all the week. Are those in your family being helped or hindered to follow the Living and Written Word?

On Every Battlefield of Life, Christ is ever our Comfort and Strength.

Today we present a letter from the battlefield, penned on this day, December 21, in 1863. Here, the Rev. Thomas Dwight Witherspoon writes to Susan G. Miller, sister of Witherspoon’s fallen commander, Colonel Hugh R. Miller, who died at Gettysburg. Of tragedy and loss, and of God’s comfort in our weakest moments, Rev. Witherspoon writes,

Truly God’s footsteps are in the great deep. We cannot comprehend his doings, but it is the part of faith to sit meekly & lean upon the arms of the Lord though it be in the dark. We know that He doeth all things well—that he doth not willingly grieve or afflict & therefore we should not faint under his chastisements, but gather strength from his promises & fortitude from his throne of grace, glorifying him even in the furnace of affliction, and striving by every visitation of his rod to be drawn nearer to Himself.

T. D. Witherspoon to Susan G. Miller, December 21, 1863:—
Camp 42nd Miss near Orange C. H.

Dec 21st 1863

My dear friend:

The enclosed letter sent to my care has been for a long time in the hands of Captain Cooper, but through some mistake the letter containing it was not handed me until day before yesterday. I have been intending to write to you every day since I reached Camp but have been prevented by the constant confusion & bustle incident to such a life as that we hare now leading. We have only one small tent for the Regimental, Medical & chaplains headquarters, so with the crowd always collected on business of some kind, or visiting some of us there is but little time given for writing or reflection. My thoughts have been very often with you since I come away, hoping that the slight improvement in your health during my stay might prove to be the earnest of your complete restoration to health,yet fearing that it was only the excitement of my hurried visit & that after I had gone, you would again feel keenly the power of the disease. Oh how gladly I should have remained with you longer if it had been at my option to do so. How happy I should be in any way possible to minister to your comfort & relieve the weariness of long & painful sickness. I have learned to think of you as a mother for his sake, who amid all the trials & deprivations of the camp, treated me ever as if I were a son. I cannot tell you how much I miss him now. There is a vacancy in my heart, there is a vacancy in the hearts of the men—there is a vacancy in the command of the Regiment wh. [i.e., which] cannot be filled. We shall never have another officer so active & vigilant, another leader so brave & true, another Colonel so much respected & admired, and I greatly fear we shall never again have a Regiment so thoroughly drilled & disciplined as that in which our lamented Colonel once took such a just & honest pride. All the men speak of him affectionately. All lament his death & long for some way to shew their appreciation of his worth.

We have just received official notice that Col. Moseley’s resignation is accepted. We have also a report in camp that Maj. Feeney is dead but I trust this report may not be true. [1] There will be a great contention for seniority amongst Captains & we do not know how the issue between them will be decided. Cpt. Locke has gone home on furlough, his wound is still troubling him. [2]

We have just received the sad intelligence of the death of Edward Miller, son of the late Rev. Jno. H. Miller, killed in battle & his remains left in the hands of the enemy. How distressing to this afflicted household. Truly God’s footsteps are in the great deep. We cannot comprehend his doings, but it is the part of faith to sit meekly & lean upon the arms of the Lord though it be in the dark. We know that He doeth all things well—that he doth not willingly grieve or afflict & therefore we should not faint under his chastisements, but gather strength from his promises & fortitude from his throne of grace, glorifying him even in the furnace of affliction, and striving by every visitation of his rod to be drawn nearer to Himself.

Of the state of religion in the Regiment I am not able as yet to say much as the weather has been so inclement since my return as to prevent me from mingling much with the men. On yesterday & the Sabbath before the attendance on preaching was very large & from other indications, I think there is still a deep interest. Tomorrow we move to our permanent quarters for the winter which will be three miles beyond Orange C. H. [i.e., Court House]. On the wagon road to Gordonsville. It is spoken of as an excellent location with plenty of wood, water etc. When we get a little time we purpose building a chapel & hope to have regular service all the winter. Oliver is quite well, has made application for furlough & is very impatient to get home—Dr. T. & Capt. N. [3, 4] are also well. They are all asleep or I know they would send messages. My only chance to write is at night after every thing is at rest in the camp & my candle gives so dim a light that I can scarcely see where I write. As we are to be up very early in the morning &move by then the new encampment, I must close making this my excuse for not writing a longer & more satisfactory letter. Give my love to George & Eddie. I trust you may be comforted in seeing them each brought into the fold of Christ, through the sore affliction which the Lord has sent upon you & upon them. May His gracious spirit, the promised comforter dwell richly in your heart, soothing the wounds for which earth has not remedy or balm. With kind regards to the members of the household & heartfelt prayers for you & yours

Your true friend & brother,

T. D. Witherspoon

[1] According to Military History of Mississippi, Major Feeney was killed at the Battle of the Wilderness in May 1864.

[2] Capt. Robert A. Locke of Company D, 42nd Regiment, was wounded at Gettysburg and promoted to Major on December 18, 1863.

[3] Regimental Surgeon Robert L. Taggart.

[4] Probably Captain Andrew M. Nelson, who eventually succeeded Miller, Moseley and Feeney to command the 42nd.