Above (July 3) he spoke of “mingling experience with the genuine truth as it is in Jesus.”  It is to this that he refers again in the last paragraph.  His deep acquaintance with the human heart and passions often lead him to dwell at greater length, not only on those topics whereby the sinner might be brought to discover his guilt, but also on marks that would evidence a change, that on “the glad tidings.”  And yet he ever felt that these blessed tidings, addressed to souls in the very gall of bitterness, were the true theme of the minister of Christ; and never did he preach other than a full salvation ready for the chief of sinners.  From the very first, also, he carefully avoided the error of those who rather speculate or doctrinize about the gospel, than preach the gospel itself.  Is not the true idea of preaching that of one, like Ahimaaz, coming with all-important tidings, and intent on making these tidings known?  Occupied with the facts he has to tell, he has no heart to speculate on mere abstractions; nay, he is apt to forget what language he employs, excepting so far as the very grandeur of the tidings gives a glow of eloquence to his words.  The glorious fact, “By this man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins,” is the burden of every sermon.  The crier is sent to the openings of the gate by his Lord, to herald forth this one infinitely important truth through the whole creation under heaven.

He seems invariably to have applied for his personal benefit what he gave out to his people.  We have already noticed how he used to feed on the word, not in order to prepare himself for his people, but for personal edification.  To do so was a fundamental rule with him; and all pastors will feel that, if they are to prosper in their own souls, they must so use the word,—­sternly refusing to admit the idea of feeding others, until satiated themselves.  And for similar ends it is needful that we let the truth we hear preached sink down into our own souls.  We, as well as our people, must drink in the falling shower.  Mr. M’Cheyne did so.  It is common to find him speaking thus:  “July 31, Sabbath.—­Afternoon, on Judas betraying Christ; much more tenderness than ever I felt before.  Oh that I might abide in the bosom of Him who washed Judas’ feet, and dipped his hand in the same dish with him, and warned him, and grieved over him—­that I might catch the infection of his love, of his tenderness, so wonderful, so unfathomable.”

Coming home on a Sabbath evening (Aug. 7th) from Torwood Sabbath school, a person met him who suggested an opportunity of usefulness.  There were two families of gypsies encamped at Torwood, within his reach.  He was weary with a long day’s labor; but instantly, as was his custom on such a call, set off to find them.  By the side of their wood-fire, he opened out the parable of the Lost Sheep, and pressed it on their souls in simple terms.  He then knelt down in prayer for them, and left them somewhat impressed, and very grateful.