Be Still, And See The Salvation Of God

London, Ontario, Feb. 22, 1907.

Dear Mrs. Eddy:—I have many times desired to address you with a letter, but have refrained from doing so lest I should trespass on your precious time. Now that the desire is again upon me, I yield to the gentle impulse to take up the pen and pay tribute to your worth and work.

The publication of falsehoods and worthless statements, under the name of “history,” is a breach of moral law and an insult to the intelligence of the age. Were it not for the restraining power of Christian Science, curbing human resentment, my hostility to this would be liable to overstep the bounds of “righteous indignation.” I am a native of Scotland—the land of Wallace and of Bruce, of John Knox and Henry Drummond, and, as my name indicates, have come from a clan whose claim to chivalry is as clear as its title to valor. I was born in the heart of the Highlands, and spent my boyhood days on the estate of the Duke of Sutherland, whose illustrations ancestor—the noble Earl of Sutherland—was the first to sign the National Covenant (an historic covenant designed to protect religious liberty in 1638) by thrusting his sword into his left arm and writing his name in characters of blood. Little wonder, then, that the spirit of the old Covenanters should animate my feelings, when I see you persecuted by an unprincipled portion of the press in a periodical which must have lost its sense of honor and justice, its pride, dignity, and self-respect.

A libel is a malicious misdemeanor, a criminal offense that deserves punishment; but who shall execute judgment? I have learned from you to put up the sword, “to overcome evil with good,” and to allow the cutting claymore of Truth to decimate error, or rather, to let error destroy itself. My thanks for the lesson. When Daniel was cast into the den of lions, of what avail would his snarling in opposition to the growls of the wild beasts have been? The salvation of the prophet, as it proved, lay not in matching his voice against the mighty roar of the king of beasts, but in the silent recognition of God as omnipotent Love.

I should like to relate here an incident in the life of an eminent Scotch divine—Doctor McDonald, better known in the Highlands as “the apostle of the North.” During his ministry in a seacoast town, a number of fishing-boats belonging to his parish were one day suddenly overtaken by a severe storm while the men were attending to their nets. Their safety being imperiled, a hasty retreat was made for the harbor. It was a race for dear life, for, with every effort put forth by the struggling fishermen to reach their place of refuge, which lay several leagues leeward, the storm increased in violence and threatened the destruction of the whole fleet. Becoming alarmed for the lives of their fathers and husbands, toiling against odds, the women-folk of the town forsook their homes and congregated on the beach, where they mingled tears of distress and cries of despair with the salt spray of the roaring billows that lashed the shore. In the midst of this pandemonium, composed of hurricane and hysteria, Dr. McDonald appeared on the scene, bareheaded, but clothed in calm, his white hair blown about by the ungentle gale. Lifting his eloquent voice above clamor and storm, the Scotch divine appealed to the wailing women to quiet their fears and cease from weeping. He beseeched them to be silent, and to comfort their troubled hearts with the assurance that all would be well. “Be still,” he entreated, “and see the salvation of God.” Then kneeling down upon the surf-beaten strand, the reverend doctor with hands uplifted to heaven invoked divine aid, and whispered in prayer the “peace, be still” with which Jesus calmed the tempest on the sea of Galilee. Presently the boisterous wind began to abate, the white-capped waves to subside, and the cries of hopeless despair were hushed almost to silence. The raging elements were rebuked. In a little while one of the fishing-boats succeeded in making the harbor, and shortly after, another reached the haven; but not until every vessel in the fleet had sailed into safety. did the “apostle of the North” arise from his knees with a holy smile lighting up his serene countenance and words of gratitude falling from his lips.

Beloved Leader, I cannot help thinking what grand Christian Scientists my countrymen will make when they come to learn and accept the religion which radiates from the heart,—your religion of Love. The day is hastening when all shall come into the unity of this faith, which is the gospel of good works.

The world is slow to acknowledge merit in any department of science or art. However much we may now revere the memory of the Christian martyrs, and honor the names of the ancient worthies whose achievements for the betterment of the race have advanced them from the temple of virtue to the pantheon of fame, yet the guerdon of the truly great is immortality, and the reward of the righteous, life everlasting. While humanity is tardy to do you justice, in this hour of persecution it is sweet to know that your recompense is sure, for you have brought to the world a revelation, and founded a Church that will eventually redeem mankind through the merits of Christian Science.