ANOTHER LILY GATHERED

God loves his mighty works to be remembered. We easily forget the most amazing displays of his love and power, and therefore it is right often to set up a stone of remembrance. When Israel passed over Jordan on dry land, God commanded Joshua to take twelve stones out of the dry bed of the river, and to set them up at Gilgal, for a memorial, “that all the people of the earth might know the hand of the Lord, that it is Mighty.” Josh. 4:24. Whenever the children of Israel looked upon these massy stones, they would remember how God brought their fathers through the swelling of Jordan.

God has done great things for us in this corner of his vineyard, whereof we are glad. The Word has often grown mightily and prevailed. Many old sinners and many young ones have given clear evidence of a saving change. And though we cannot say that “the Lord added to the church daily, such as should be saved,” yet we can say, that from the first day, until now, He has never left himself without a witness.

We have done little in the way of making known the doings of the Lord. The record of many a saved soul is on high, and many in their heavenly walk amid a polluted world are living monuments of what a God of grace can do. In this little narrative we would raise up a humble stone to the memory of a dear boy who now sleeps in Jesus, and to the praise of that God and Saviour who planted, watered, and gathered his own lily.

James Laing was born on 28th July, 1828, and lost his mother before he was eight years old. Of the living members of the family I do not mean to speak; they have not yet finished their course, but are still in the valley of tears, and trials and temptations. This only must be noticed, that not long after God took away the mother, He dealt so graciously with elder sister, that she was henceforth fitted to watch over the other children with a mother’s tenderness.

James was seized with the same fever as that of which his mother died, and he never enjoyed good health afterwards. He was naturally a very quiet and reserved boy, not so rough in his language as many of the boys around. One day, when he was lying on his dying bed, I was asking his sister what kind of boy he had been. She said that he was as wicked as other boys, only he did not swear. After I was gone, he told his sister that she was wrong. He never used to swear at home, because he was afraid he would be punished for it; but when among his companions he often used to swear. “Ah!” added he, “it is a wonder God did not leave me to swear among these boys yet.” Such was the early life of this boy. He did not know the God who guided him, and in whose hand his breath was; and such is the life of most of our children—they “cast off fear, and restrain prayer before God.” The Holy Spirit strives even with children. And when they grieve Him, and resist his awakening hand, He suffers long with them. The first time that James showed any concern for his soul was in the autumn of 1839. It was a solemn time in this place; St. Peter’s was like Bethel. The divine ladder was set down in the midst of the people, and its top reached up to heaven, and even strangers were forced to say, “Surely God is in this place.” Oh that, those sweet days would come back again! His elder brother, Alexander, a sailor boy, was at that time awakened, and the same glorious Spirit seemed to visit James for a time. One evening their sister Margaret, returning home from a meeting, found her two brothers on their knees earnestly crying for mercy. She did not interrupt them; but Alexander afterwards said to her, “Jamie feels that he needs Christ too. We will earnestly know if he be in earnest, for then he will not need to be hidden to pray.” This test was a trying one; James soon gave up secret prayer, and proved that his goodness was like a morning cloud and the early dew which goeth away. This is the mark of the hypocrite laid down by Job. “Will he always call upon God?” Job 27:10.

Another night Margaret observed James coming from the prayer-meeting in the school in great distress. He kept close by the wall of the Church, that he might escape observation. He was much concerned that night, and after retiring to rest, said to his sister in his own Scottish dialect, “There’s me come awa’ without Christ to-night again.”

One Thursday evening he attended the weekly meeting held in the church. The passage explained was Romans 4:4-6, and sinners were urged to receive the “righteousness without works.” Many were deeply affected, and would not go away even after the blessing. James was one of those who remained, and when I came to him he was weeping bitterly. I asked him if he cared for his soul: he said, “at times.” I asked if he prayed: he said, “Yes.” He was much concerned on his return, home that night both for others and for his own soul. But these dew-drops were soon dried up again.

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