LOVE IS THE FULFILLING OF THE LAW
"Then, as the veil is rent in twain,
From unremembered places where they lay
Dead thoughts, dead words arise and live again,
The clouded eyes can see, the lips can pray.
A purer light dawns on the night of pain,
And, on the morrow, 'tis the Sabbath day."
The love of God, which passeth all understanding.
For a few days Dr. Macrae was seen frequently about the streets of Glasgow. Some bowed to him, some passed by on the other side. He was also generally accompanied by Major Macrae or by a certain well-known lawyer, neither of them men partial to greetings in the market place or conversations at the street corners. So in a manner he was protected by his companions and his preoccupation. In his home all knew that he was going away, but no one named the circumstance to him. It was not an easy thing to talk to Macrae on subjects he did not wish named.
Indeed, it was four days after his public resignation from the ministry before the Church of the Disciples ventured to make any movement signifying their acceptance of his withdrawal. Then a little company of church officials called on him to exchange some necessary papers and pay the salary which was due. Thomas Reid's name was among those of the visitors, and for a moment Ian resolved not to meet them. But it was Jessy Caird who brought him their request, and she looked so persuasively at Ian that he answered:
"Very well, Jessy, if you think so, send them in here."
When the little band entered his study his heart melted at the sight of these old associates of his dead life. They had honored and loved him for many years, and his miserable state was not their fault. Only Elder Reid had ever offended, and he had always regretted the trouble and been glad when it was removed. So Ian looked at them with his heart in his eyes, and they looked at him and could not utter a word.
For this man was not their long-beloved Minister. He was even outwardly so changed they could not for a few moments accept him. That very day Ian had taken off his "blacks" forever. The long black broadcloth coat and vest and the snow-white band around his throat had been replaced by a very handsome suit of dark tweed, such as they were themselves wearing. And this change in his dress—so totally unexpected—moved them beyond all reason. They looked at him in silence, and their hearts and eyes were full of unshed tears.
They had seated themselves on the long sofa, and Macrae rose and went to them: "You have come to bid me farewell," he said, "and I am glad to see you—you have been brothers to me—it breaks my heart to part with you—and all you represent—but I must go. I know not where—nor yet what may befall me, but if I die I shall die seeking the God I have loved—and—lost."