On
Tuesday December 30, 1858, the Rev. William Ormiston was inducted into the
pastoral charge of the United Presbyterian congregation in this city. The
little stone church on Merrick street, which was on the lot upon which the
Savoy theatre is now built, had had several changes in pastors from the time it
first became a temple of worship and the small congregation had passed through
many vicissitudes. One of the fundamental doctrines of the United Presbyterians
was opposition to secret societies, so it is safe to say that there were not
many Masons or Oddfellows connected with it. Mr. Ormiston’s theology was cast
in a broader mold, and when he came to Hamilton, he identified himself with the
Sons of Temperance and the Good Templars, both orders having a ritual and a
semblance of secrecy. Prior to the coming of Mr. Ormiston, the Rev. Mr. Hogg
had pastoral charge of the congregation. He was a man of fine scholarship, and
while he was in Hamilton, he published a monthly magazine entitled Waymarks in
the Wilderness. The articles in the magazine dipped so deep in theology that
ordinary minds could not fathom it, and the result was that the magazine had
but a small subscription list, and when Mr. Hogg left Hamilton the Waymarks was
consigned to the wilderness of the literary graveyard. Probably some ancient
United Presbyterian brother may have preserved a copy of the magazine. It would
be a literary curiosity now. A. T. Freed, now inspector of weights and
measures, had charge of the type setting and make-up of the Waymarks, and this,
probably, accounts for the severe religious hue of his daily life. After
reading Mr. Hogg’s articles, Bro. Freed’s mind was prepared for any severe
study, as he took to Masonry and has just landed in the highest seat in the
synagogue.
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How many men or women now living in
Hamilton, who were connected with the United Presbyterian church, can remember
the interesting occasion of half a century ago? Dr. Ormiston was then in the
first flush of manhood, having received all the honors that the university from
which he graduated could bestow upon him. He was a natural orator, and he never
appeared before an audience that he did not leave his impress upon it. The
Hamilton church pulpits were filled with brainy, educated men – “there were
giants in those days” – and when the congregation of the little stone church
called Mr. Ormiston to the pastorate, they had no fear of the result ; he could
hold his own with the brightest preachers of that day. It is doubtful if any of
the ministers who took part in that induction service are living now. On the
platform were Methodist, Baptist, Congregational and Presbyterian ministers
besides the elders of Mr. Ormiston’s church. Men of note in Canadian pulpits –
Robert Burns, David Inglis, Robert Irvine, Wm. McChary, Edward Ebbs, Mr.
Christie, Ephraim B. Harper, Alfred Booker, Robert Poden and many others – were
there to extend the glad hand to the young minister. At 11 o’clock in the
forenoon, the ordination services began, the Rev. Mr. Lee, of Ancaster,
preaching the sermon, and the Rev. Mr. Christie propounding the questions of
the formula and offering up the ordination prayer. In the evening was held the
banquet in the hall of the Mechanics’ Institute, at which more than 600 sat
down. The hall was tastefully decorated by the ladies of the church, and
everything was done to make the occasion one long to ne remembered. Mr. Roy, an
elder of the church, was the chairman, and a choir of 25 ladies and gentlemen,
under the direction of Mr. Wallace, made sweet melody, to sandwich in between
the speeches. Uncle Billy McClure, the grand old pastor of the New Connexion
church, was the first speaker, his theme being Religion Cultivates and Purifies
the Social Affections. The Rev. David Inglis, the pastor of Macnab Street
Presbyterian church, talked on A Praying Church, A Peaceful and Prosperous One,
and Mr. Ebbs, of the Congregational followed with The Church, a Sphere of Duty
for All. Then came the new minister, the Rev. William Ormiston. His reputation
for eloquence had preceded him to Hamilton, and this was the first opportunity
that a large number of the assembled guests had the opportunity to hear him.
Mr. Ormiston was in his happiest mood as a storyteller, and he introduced his
subject by relating a parable. One lovely afternoon, in the month of June, a
young maiden, scarcely in her teens, fresh and fair, approached her mother with
a request that she might be permitted to go out and gather some of the
loveliest flowers that bloomed in a meadow close at hand. Permission being
obtained, she went through the fresh fields, basket in hand, caroling gayly as
she picked the blossoms and placed them in her basket., thinking all the while
how graceful a garland she would twine around her mother’s brow. And so she
wended her way to the lower end of the meadow, where a rivulet flowed amid the
grass, rippling gently over its pebbly bed. She dropped a flower in the brook,
and, pleased to see it dancing before the current, another and another until,
in her excitement, she tossed them all away. Then, the transient pleasure over,
looking at the empty basket, she sorrowfully cried. “Bring me back my flowers,”
but echo alone mockingly replied, and the rivulet carried them away forever.
The story loses much of its charm in cold type. The application was in one of
Mr. Ormiston’s most impressive moods. So, young people, your God has given you
a long summer, a fragrant mead, and a large basket to contain the many precious
flowers scattered around. Beware lest in the gay and giddy delirium of mere
sensuous delights, you squander the precious moments, the golden opportunities
for personal improvement, heart culture, home usefulness, church monumental
labor. A few more years and you may in vain wish to recall your misspent youth.
Echo alone will mock your care as it did the maiden as it did the maiden’s who
had thrown her flowers away. Had we space in these Musings to quote more
extensively from the address of that night fifty years ago, they would be an
inspiration to the young men and women of the present day. Speaking on
patriotism and love of country, he stated “What a large, wide, happy home is
the land we live in! We have found it a goodly land, and have no sympathy with
those who love it not. There is no piety, no genuine Christianity, in the heart
of him who does not love his country, native or adopted. He cannot be a true,
real-hearted man who, looking through the vista of coming years, does not hope
to see his own country grow geater and more glorious.
“Scotland. I love thee well,
Thy dust is clear to me;
This distant land is very fair,
But not like thee.
They say thy hills are bleak,
They say thy glens are bare;
But, oh! they know not what fond hearts
Are nutured there.”
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It is sad to think that a mind so
stored with all the beauty and imagery of the English language should finally
end in a cloud. The last time Mr. Ormiston passed through Hamilton he was a
physical and mental wreck. Years of pain and suffering had brought low the
intellectual giant.
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There were other speakers at that
notable banquet who are pleasantly remembered by the friends of the good old
days of yore. The Rev. Ephraim B. Harper spoke cheery words o greeting for the
Wesleyan Methodists of Hamilton, and the Rev. Dr, Irvine closed the speaking
program with one of his breezy, characteristic speeches.
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Women are just as eligible as men for
harps, halos and wings claim the women of Hamilton. And they go farther than
that, for they emphatically declare that many of them are already enrolled on
the angelic list, and they may be seen any Sunday occupying the reserved seats
in Hamilton’s costly temples of worship. Let women take a back seat in the
churches and leave the men to run things spiritually and Hamilton would become
a veritable Sodom and Gommorah. Fancy the class of angels that can be found at
the club or the lodge long after the St. Paul’s chimes peal forth the midnight
hour! As a general thing, men have a pretty good opinion of themselves, which
makes them rather selfish. They have an idea that wings are almost ready to
sprout from their shoulders at any moment, and that it is only their native
modesty that keeps them from bragging about their angelic qualities. They are
like the fellow in church who promptly rose to his feet when the preacher, in
his sermon, exclaimed : “Mark, the perfect man!” The club women in Chicago are
resenting the claim made by men that their sex is the only one eligible for
wings. It seems that at a meeting of Methodist ministers at Chester Heights,
Pa., several of the brethren argued that there was no such thing as female
angels, and gave as a reason that no record could be found in the sacred
scriptures of any such angels, and therefore they did not exist. Then to prove
their position, one of the brethren asked the question as to whoever saw a
picture or a bit of statuary representing a female angel. Angels are chosen for
their good works and this being the test of eligibility, where could one put
their finger on a masculine angel in Hamilton?
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The idea that women are not born
angels is ridiculous. Here in Hamilton are plenty of women who are angels – all
the men have to do is use their eyes and brains to see that. Very young men and
very old men are willing to concede to women their proper place in the angel
choir. It is only the crabbed and sour fellows who are made to toe the mark for
their neglect of home duties in the evening, or who spend the midnight hour at
a game of draw where four ones always beat four twos, who declare that the
long-suffering mother of their children has passed the angelic stage. One good
women in this blessed city of Hamilton says that there may be no record of
female angels in the Bible, or in the pages of books written by such crabbed
old dyspeptics as Tom Carlyle, but that is not proof that female angels do not
exist. One thing is certain, that when the roll of angels is called in the
other world to which we are all tending, there will be more hearty and prompt
responses from the gentler sex than from the masculine. This great family
journal takes its stand with the women on this important question. In the
religious world women make all the sacrifices is to keep the churches running;
and were it not for them there would be little use for the sexton to open the
churches running; and were it not for them there would be little use for the
sexton to open the church doors tomorrow. The pastors would preach to empty
pews if the men were depended upon to furnish the congregation, and there would
be no missionary funds to send the gospel to convert the heathen. If the
question were left to the young men to decide, especially those who took
advantage of the month of roses to join hands and hearts with Hamilton’s fair
ones, they would insist that women are angels, and doubtless would declare that
women have so many angelic qualities that a very slight metamorphosis would be
necessary for them to become full-fledged angels.
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