John Urquhart, part 17: Farewell to St. Andrews
Today, after a brief pause to consider two letters written by John, we resume the narrative of his life. His last few months at St. Andrews were filled with activity. But as several of his friends remembered, the balance of his time had shifted away from academics and toward active works of ministry. He did not neglect his studies, but they held less and less interest for him because his heart was more and more taken with the great cause of his life and the great needs around him.
As we have come to expect, he finished the year with prizes in several classes. But his friend Alexander Duff noted that in natural philosophy he only took the third prize. Duff indicated that this was due to John’s change of priorities—he won this “without labour, without effort, without much preparation. Indeed, he could not bear the thought of spending much time on what appeared to him to be but of secondary importance.” He also placed well in his Hebrew, Chaldean, and Syriac language class, but that held more interest for him, since it would be useful in his study of Scripture and potential translation work. Leaving St. Andrews also meant leaving the moral philosophy class of Dr. Chalmers, who awarded him several prizes for the work done there. Chalmers wrote that he was “far the most eminent of his class, for the beauty and eloquence of his written compositions.” These high marks across many classes showed that John did not allow his eagerness to do something greater for the cause of Christ to become a hindrance to his current responsibilities.
If academics had become of secondary importance, ministry and missions had become primary. On March 10, he wrote to William Orme that he had made his long-pondered decision—he was committing to a life of missionary labor. “Mr. Adam and myself have made the subject of missions a matter of daily consideration this session; and after deliberately viewing all sides of the question, and candidly comparing the claims of our home population and the heathen world, and earnestly seeking for direction from Him who has promised to be the guide of his people, even unto death, I have come to the final resolution of devoting myself to the service of God among the heathen.” His faithful pastor and spiritual father—the one who had once prayed that this gifted young man would be converted and serve the Lord—was the first to hear of this commitment. Since his school obligations would soon be over, Robert Morrison had recently encouraged John to send in an application to the London Missionary Society. Orme himself was now the foreign secretary for the society, and it seemed as if the paths of this modern Paul and Timothy might cross again.
As John began laying these plans for the next step in life, he continued his ministry to the region around St. Andrews. He stayed up late one Sunday night in February to prepare a speech for a missionary meeting in the small town of Cupar. After a few hours of sleep, he left early on Monday to walk the nearly ten miles from St. Andrews. That night he gave an passionate plea for the great cause, then walked back to the university on Tuesday morning. During these months he also continued his work in his sabbath school. His roommate recorded the diligence he gave to his teaching— “It was his practice to make them read a chapter, which he explained to them, and questioned them from it. All these questions he previously wrote down and studied, in order that they might be as simple and easy as possible. Indeed, he possessed an unusual talent for speaking to children, and never failed to keep their attention.” As Chalmers had done before him, Urquhart did not just teach the class, he took time whenever possible to visit the homes of the children. Other opportunities for service came from those who were sick or in failing health. “He was always ready for a request like this; and many times I have seen him leave his studies to visit the bed-side of some humble sufferer. On these occasions his conversation was always of a spiritual nature, and it was always his anxious endeavour to point the mind of the sufferer away from every earthly confidence, unto the ‘Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world.’” Sometimes these sufferers were believers who welcomed him gladly, and at others they were those with no care for their own souls. Yet John’s aim was always the same— “the welfare and salvation of his fellow men.”