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John Macleod Centenary Lecture -- The Annual Lecture given at Govan Old on 14 March 1998
By
Ian C. Bradley, M.A., B.D., D.Phil. Senior Lecturer in Church History / Practical Theology, University of Aberdeen
It is a great pleasure and privilege to give this memorial lecture on the
occasion of the centenary of the death of John Macleod and to offer some
thoughts and perspectives on the life and thought of the giant who is, if
we believe at all in the communion of saints, almost physically and certainly
surely spiritually in our midst one hundred years since he died "in high and
spotless honour"[1].
"He was a man of singular presence, very tall, very perfectly built, rugged
of feature, in some indescribable way magnificent. He arrested one from the
moment of his entrance to the church: he held one till he left"[2]. So wrote
Henry Wotherspoon about his friend and mentor. It is not quite the impression
that one gets from the drooping walrus moustache and the slightly hooded eyes
of the familiar photograph that is our main record of what John Macleod
looked like. Yet even if there is some wholly understandable and pardonable
hero-worship and hagiography in that statement, I suspect that it takes us
to the heart of the character who is our subject today and explains why he
is so difficult to encapsulate in an address such as this. Clearly a large
part of the greatness, the magic, the charisma of John Macleod was contained
in his very presence -- and even given what I have just said about the
communion of saints, that presence is almost impossible for us to encounter
and experience a hundred years after his death.
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The Revd John Macleod, minister of Govan Parish 1875-98 |
What I want to try and do is explore the character and the significance of
Macleod with reference to and through the milieux in which he operated. In
particular, I want to try and put him into the context of his times by
identifying the dominant facets of his life. Being, like him, a good
Trinitarian, and a Church of Scotland minister who cannot resist preaching
in triplets, there are three particular milieux or aspects of the main that
seem to me to be especially important both if we are to understand his
singularity and also relate him to his times. I want to spend the rest of this
lecture considering John Macleod the West Highlander, John Macleod the
parish minister and John Macleod the theologian of sacrifice.
1. John Macleod, the West Highlander
John Macleod, as we all know, was a son of Argyll, and specifically of the
Morvern peninsula. He was also, of course, a scion of that extraordinary
dynasty that has almost certainly contributed more than any other single
family to the life of the Scottish church. To quote another purple passage from
a source I have already used: "What a line he came from! One can't help being
moved and provoked on visiting that simple Highland graveyard, clinging to
a still simpler kirk, with the wind rustling the bent and the beauty of sun
filling the Sound of Mull below. One can't help being stirred on reading,
through a railing, a tomstone which enshrines the names of more distinguished
and related Doctors of Divinity and Deans of the Thistle than, I believe,
any other in the whole of Scotland. The one understands the inherited zeal and
passionate power he possessed -- as did another Macleod later in our
history"[3].
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Macleod Memorial ( white monument ), Keil Graveyard, Lochaline, Morvern |
Now the question arises, which was the more formative and important influence
on Macleod -- his family line or his West Highland blood? Was it the fact that
he was a Macleod that made him what it was, or the fact that he was a
West Highlander? I want, rather novelly and unusually, to suggest that it was
perhaps the latter. Of course, there are aspects of Macleod's life and thought
which strongly echo and pre-echo characteristics found in some of his most
distinguished ancestors and descendants. There are very close parallels
between his remarkable ministry here in Govan between 1875 and 1989, that
of his first cousin, Norman, at the Barony Church, Glasgow, between 1851
and 1872, and that of his cousin twice removed, George, at Govan between
1930 and 1938. His particular brand of Scoto-Catholicism and passionate
commitment to the centrality of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper in worship
echoes the position of his first cousin Donald and in many ways anticipates
the thinking of George. Clearly there are Macleod genes which favour
liturgical reform, somewhat contentious Presbyterian Popery and extraordinary
devotion to parish ministry.
I think that there may have been a broader influence at work as well in
determining the make-up and character of John Macleod. I want to call it the
West Highland factor. Whether it is genetic, environmental, geographical
or ethnic, I am not quite sure. I suspect that there is an element of
sentiment and prejudice in my assertion of it and I had better come clean
and admit to being, if not quite a son of Argyll, having the misfortune to be
born in the decidedly un-Celtic and prosaic surroundings of Berkhamstead,
at least one whose mother comes from generations of south Argyll stock and who
was rushed up from the Home Counties to Campbell country to be baptised.
There is, I think, room for a thesis on the extent to which Argyll born or
based ministers have contributed to movements associated with the more
liturgical, mystical and catholic end of the Church of Scotland. I have a sense,
and this may be no more than wishful thinking, that their contribution would
be found to be disproportionate. One possible reason for this may be the
loyalty to the established church of those who might in other areas have
defected to the Episcopal Church. This may have something to do with the
loyalty of successive Dukes of Argyll to the Kirk and the character of the
Presbyterianism of the much maligned Campbells.
More importantly, though even more speculatively, I wonder if we encounter
in Argyll folk a particularly pure and distinctive manifestation of the Celtic
temperament. Now, this is a notoriously slippery term and one which I myself
am increasingly uneasy about using. Yet, if any region of Scotland deserves
the epithet Celtic, it is surely this, the site of the Irish kingdom of
Dal Riata, the heartland of the Scoti immigrants from Ireland, the base of
Columba and the other great Irish missionaries like Maelrubha and Moluag.
I think we can see an undeniable Celtic element in Macleod's make-up. It is
not the mystical second sight and sixth sense of the Outer Hebridean, nor
the harsh Calvanism of the northern Highlander. It is rather the gentler,
more open but no less spiritual quality which perhaps distinguishes the
West Highland Celtic temperament.
Is it wholly fanciful to see coursing through John Macleod's veins the
blood of Columba? Like Columba, he was a poet, writing a considerable
corpus of verse, not least about his beloved Morvern to which he returned
for several weeks every summer throughout his life, and leaving us in his
hymns, one of which we will sing later this afternoon and several more at
tomorrow morning's service, a marvellous example of that distinctively Celtic
approach which expresses the faith in images and poems rather than concepts
and prose. Like Columba, too, Macleod had a strong attachment to the
spiritual dimension of Christianity. There is a fascinating footnote early on
in Roger Kirkpatrick's study of his ministry at Govan, delivered in 1913 as
the seventh Macleod Memorial Lecture, which speaks of his coming while at
Duns "under the influence of that spiritual teaching which so profoundly
affected the whole of his subsequent life and ministry". Kirkpatrick goes on
to record that "the key to everything distinctive in his religious and
ecclesiastical attitude and convictions lies in that unrecorded passage of
his spritual development. Should the story of it ever be told, it will be
found a story of arresting interest"[4].
Is this a veiled reference to Macleod's involvement with the Irvingites and
the Catholic Apostolic Church? Can we indeed, relate his attraction to this
charismatic movement to his West Highland Gaelic temperament and his
simultaneous exercise of the office of "presbyter sealed" in the Catholic
Apostolic Church and minister of the Church of Scotland to his Argyllshire
blood? I find it significant that the origins of the Irvingite movement are
generally traced to the religious experiences of a trio from Greenock, which
almost counts as Argyll, one of them a Campbell to boot, Mary of that ilk, the
others, honesty compels me to admit, Macdonalds, the brothers James and
George. The mid-nineteenth century Catholic Apostolic Church had much in
common with the doctrines and experiences of the sixth and seventh century
Columban Church in its conviction of the nearness of the Second Coming and the
breaking in of the Kingdom, its enthusiasm for charismatic gifts, signs of the
Spirit and prophetic ministry and its emphasis on dignified liturgy.
If Macleod, the Argyllshire Celt, was instinctively attracted to the ideas and
practices of Edward Irving, then Macleod the humanitarian was perhaps more
consciously also attracted by Irving's strong stress on the humanity and human
brotherhood of Christ. This was, of course, a relatively common theme in
later nineteenth century theology and one did not need to be a charismatic
or a Catholic apostle to pursue it. Its greatest exponent was, I suppose,
F. D. Maurice and perhaps his greatest disciple in Scotland, Macleod's near
contemporary, the blind George Matheson, in this case an Argyll man by
adoption and residence rather than birth, ministering at Innellan from 1868
to 1886. There were, indeed, close relations between Macleod and Matheson
and close parallels between their theology as I shall be exploring later.
I do not want to over-do the Argyll, West Highland, Dal Riatan Gaelic/Celtic
element in Macleod's make-up but I feel that it is worth flagging up and would
bear further exploration.
2. John Macleod, the parish minister
Let me now turn to a less contentious area. Anyone making the most cursory
survey of Macleod's life must be struck by his remarkable energy and
achievements in parish ministry. This was almost literally his life's work --
he was inducted into his first charge at Newton on Ayr two months after his
21st birthday and spent the next 37 years as a parish minister, first in
Duns and then at Govan, until his untimely death very much in harness at the
age of 58. It is his period at Govan on which I want especially to concentrate.
Macleod's commitment was overwhelmingly and unequivocally to parish rather than
congregational ministry: "A Parish Minister is the servant not of a congregation
only, but of the Parish. If I could suppose a case to arise in which my duty
to the parish would seem to come into collision with my duty to the congregation,
I would have to regard the former as having the prior claim"[5]. This
commitment sounds through both his utterances and his actions. The pastoral
letters which he regularly sent out from Govan Parish Church were addressed
to parishioners rather than members of the congregation. The parish rather than
the communicant roll was the basis for the intensive programme of house to
house visiting which he carried out with his assistants. It was also the
constituency from which he drew the members of the weekday teaching sessions
on the Gospels, the Sacraments and the Christian life which he led
single-handedly through eight months of every year.
The statistics of Govan parish during Macleod's incumbency are staggering
for the modern minister to contemplate. The total population of the old parish
when he began in 1876 stood at 220,000. It had increased by more that fivefold
over the past forty years and is generally agreed by historians to have
experienced the greatest growth of any parish in the United Kingdom in the
nineteenth century. By 1892, it was up to 278.976. Not all of these souls,
of course, looked directly to the minister of Govan Old for their spiritual
care. A fair proportion were Roman Catholics or belonged to other
denominations and there were already other Church of Scotland churches and
chapels within the parish when he came in. A major part of his strategy was,
of course, to add to these by planning and planting new churches to cater
for the huge population in the old Govan parish.
Macleod's formidable personal programme of church extension work is well
known. It was not, of course, unique even if its scope was exceptional. It
followed in the great tradition of urban church extension pioneered in
Scotland by Thomas Chalmers and vigorously pursued by other mid-Victorian
ministers, notably in Glasgow. What was, perhaps, unique about Macleod's
project was his vision of the old parish church of Govan, rebuilt and
reopened in 1888, as the mother church of the whole parish. This, in a
sense, recalled a feature of the old Celtic Church, continued in the
early mediaeval Scottish church in the period before the establishment of a
settled territorial diocesan and parish system whereby teams of itinerant
missionary and pastoral clergy went out from their bases to evangelise and
minister to surrounding areas. Something of this spirit seems to have
infused Macleod and his team of three or four assistants based at Govan
Old but reaching out to the whole parish.
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Undated pencil drawing of Govan Parish Church, with the great tower that was never built |
Concentrating just on the regular membership of the church would have been a
big enough task in itself -- the communicant roll was over 2000 when Macleod
came to Govan in 1875 and increased steadily throughout his time there -- but
the whole focuse of Macleod's team ministry based at Govan Old was on the wider
parish. He wrote in a pastoral letter issued in April 1892: "One of the
principal features of such an organisation is in the combination of
persistent house-to-house visitation, especially among the careless,
with the provision of adequate services in a free and open church"[6].
The programme of visiting was unremitting. Each assistant at Govan Old was
expected to visit at least 50 families a week, exclusive of visits to the
sick and merely nominal calls. Macleod imposed at least as demanding a schedule
of parish visitation on himself and it is not surprising to read in the same
pastoral letter that over the winter of 1891-2 well over 2,500 families had
been visited.
These were not peromptory calls. Macleod's reference to the careless is
highly significant. He sought above all to reach those who were unchurched
and to offer them spiritual care. There is a further Celtic note here in his
use of the term "Director of Souls" with its echoes of the Irish concept of
anamchara, or soul-friend. The duty of such a figure, he believed, was "to
lead the people on, step by step, out of darkness and indifference, into
conscious liberty, conscious power, conscious surrender, conscious peace"[7].
To this end, his assistants were directed to spend at least fifteen minutes
on each visit. "Words of counsel, encouragement, or warning, according to the
circumstances, should be spoken in every family, and prayer should
invariably be offered up"[8]. A table of church services was left with every
non-church going family and frequent mission services were held to attract
non-church-goers in addition to the weekday instructions and the monthly
celebrations of Communion which were, for Macleod, "the centre and stay of
such work"[9].
For Macleod, the parish was more than just a vast mission field and the church's
purpose within it more than just getting as many people as possible to
Sunday worship. Mission, evangelism, instruction in the faith and above all
worship were at the heart of his understanding of the calling of the church
and the ordained ministry but they were far from being its only functions
in his eyes. Those living within the bounds of the parish, irrespective of their
religious affiliations or lack of them, needed physical as well as spiritual
care. Macleod threw himself into schemes of social service. He took a keen
interest in education, serving on the local School Board from 1871-83 and
1885-6 and setting up a Young Men's Literary Association which was
deliberately organised on a parish wide rather than congregational basis. He
was deeply involved in the setting up of soup kitchens at times of
economic depression and slump in the shipyards and distributing relief to the
poor in the parish. He was constantly approached by those seeking employment
and helped many to find jobs.
There are, of course, other shining examples of tireless and devoted parish
ministries in the Victorian Kirk, not least that of Norman Macleod at the
Barony. John Macleod's exercise of his ministry at Govan fits into a pattern
that can be seen perhaps especially in Glasgow in the mid and later nineteenth
century in which mission, worship, instruction and social service were
combined in a way and on a scale that seems almost superhuman. Where perhaps
Macleod made his most distinctive contribution was in his vision of Govan
Old as the mother church with the other churches in the old parish as
satellites, although I am not sure that the implications of this arrangement
were ever fully worked out or realised, and in linking his commitment to the
parish rather than just the congregation to the wider principle of church
establishment, or as he would say, church defence. I want to end this second
section of my paper on John Macleod, the parish minister, with some brief
thoughts on John Macleod, the defender of church establishment, because the
two roles are inextricably linked.
Macleod's role as the effective and acknowledged leader of the cause of
Church Defence during the disestablishment crisis of 1893-4 has not attracted
anything the same attention among historians as his liturgical activities.
Maybe that is because there are not many of us who find the whole question
of church establishment both fascinating and still relevant. His assumption
of this role was a natural extension and expression of his deep commitment
to the idea of parish rather than congregational ministry, for this is what
he considered to be the proper business and indeed the ultimate justification
of established churches. Macleod took extremely seriously the Church of
Scotland's position as a national church which he saw as giving it the
God-given duty to minister and serve the whole nation:
A State-connected Church, such as exists in England, or even in
Scotland, may be far removed from the true ideal, but I am
persuaded that it is nevertheless among the most important and
powerful of "the things that remain" as a restraint on vast
confusion. It secures in a definite and well-ordered way the
national recognition of Almighty God as the Ruler of Nations,
and the freer, more systematic, and more comprehensive
ministration of the ordinances of the Gospel to all[10].
The implication in the beginning of that quotation that the Church of England
perhaps represented a better form of establishment than the Church of Scotland
is significant. Like other prominent Scottish defenders of establishment,
Macleod to some extent looked to the Church of England as a model. He always
referred to it rather than other Scottish Presbyterian churches like the
Free Church or the United Presbyterian Church as "our sister church" and
commended its prayers on the Queen, Parliament and the nation to be used
throughout the Kirk during the disestablishment crisis. Like others
prominent in the Church Defence movement, and other Macleods of various
political persuasions, he had a strong and abiding attachment to the
monarchy. He also had a high notion of the Christian nature of the state, which
again seem to be drawn more the very English and Anglican though of Coleridge
and Arnold than the "two kingdoms" doctrine of Alexander Melville and the
Scottish Presbyterian tradition -- although there are also echoes of Chalmers
and, dare I suggest of the Argyll school, in his passionate defence of the
notion of the Christian state:
"The...issue is simply whether the State is or is not any longer
to remain professedly Christian, and therefore to acknowledge, as
it has done for centuries, by its representatives and official
actions, the existence and Divine mission of the Church of God..."
""It is the duty of a Christian State to sustain a national
confession of the Christian religion, and to consecrate the
national life in all things by the obedience of Faith", and
under that banner at all hazards to defend the right IN THE
NAME OF GOD"[11]
3. John Macleod, the theologian of sacrifice
John Macleod's impassioned defence of the principle of church establishment
puts down certain markers as to his theological position. On the whole it
has been liberals who have supported establishments, while evangelicals,
supported to some extent by those of a catholic disposition, have opposed
it because of its tendency to produce broad, comprehensive churches decidedly
fuzzy at the edges when it comes to doctrine and inclined to be all things
to all men.
So we would expect to find Macleod the advocate of church defence to be a
liberal in theological terms. So to a considerable extent he was -- although
not as much as his first cousin Norman of the Barony. He stood in a very
distinct Victorian theological tradition which is a considerable distance
away from what passes as liberal theology in the late twentieth century.
Macleod was not primarily or even secondarily a theologian, of course. It this
he differed from his near-contemporary, George Matheson, to whom I earlier
compared him. Despite his blindness, Matheson wrote a number of serious and
seriously under-rated theological tomes. Macleod, his formidable energies
fully committed elsewhere, has left no serious theological works. All that
we have are two slim volumes of sermons gathered together and published after
his death, both of which are as much if not more devotional than
theological -- "The Gospel of the Holy Communion" and "The Seven Sayings of
our Lord on the Cross".
Why then am I devoting a whole section of this paper to the subject of
Macleod as theologian? Partly because this has been less investigated that
other aspects of his life and thought and it is always interesting to go
where others have not trod, and also because I believe that we find in his
theology the central doctrine which both inspired and drove him and which
undergirded his most deeply held belief.
The essence of Macleod's theology is to be found in his statement in "The
Gospel of the Holy Communion" that "the obligation of sacrifice" ( his
italics ) is "the law of Christian life which Jesus enunciated for Himself
and for His followers when He said, "Except a corn of wheat fall into the
ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much
fruit"[12]. The use of this phrase, and this particular Biblical text, in
the context of a series of sermons which are laden with sacrificial imagery
and references, is highly suggestive. It locates Macleod firmly in the great
Victorian tradition of sacrificial theology, established in mid-nineteenth
century England by F. W. Robertson and F. D. Maurice, enthusiastically taken
up by Christian Socialists like Thomas Hughes and Charles Kingsley, liberal
idealists such as T. H. Green, and those High Churchmen involved in the
Lux Mundi movement, of whom the outstanding exemplars were Charles Gore,
Robert Campbell Moberley ( the Campbells are coming again! ) and Henry Scott
Holland. In Scotland, the leading exponent of this sacrificial theology was
George Matheson, who expressed the power of sacrifice in his poem "The
Divine Plan of Creation" and those memorable closing lines of "O love that
wilt not let me go" ( "And from the ground there blossoms red/Life that
shall endless be" ) where, as he later wrote, "I took red as the symbol of
that sacrificial life which blooms by shedding itself"[13].
As for these men, Macleod's sacrificial theology was worked out at a number
of levels. It had a clear ethical and behavioural dimension. Life was to
be lived according to the principles of selfless and costly self-giving
revealed and exemplified by Jesus Christ. For him, "thankfulness,
fellowship, [and] sacrifice" were the "elements of the distinctive Christian
morality"[14]. His own life, of course, was a classic example of what we
now rather inelegantly and inadequately call ministerial burn-out, a
paradigm of almost reckless sacrificial pouring out of talents, time and
energy. He had almost literally spent himself when he died at the age of
58 in the midst of what might perhaps have been is most significant and
lasting contribution to the Church of Scotland in the area of church reform.
At a deeper level, Macleod's spending of himself was a response to his
overwhelming sense of the power and significance of Christ's sacrifice, made
not just on Calvary but perpetually in heaven. Following Gore, Matheson and
perhaps more directly William Milligan of Aberdeen, Macleod strongly
emphasized the eternal priesthood of Christ. He may well have been much
influenced here by his contact with Edward Irving who also held a high
doctrine of the eternal priesthood of Christ. He is perhaps at his most
eloquent when writing and reaching on this theme:
My brethren, the offering of our Lord Jesus Christ was not finished
on the Cross...the greater, and equally essential, the more glorious,
and the abiding part of the offering of Jesus Christ had still to be
presented, and it was presented...He took the blood that had
been sacrificed upon the Cross, the blood that had been shed in
death, back to Himself, and went into the sanctuary of God to
consecrate that life for ever...after the Resurrection, God
consecrated Him to be a Priest...[and] said, "Thou art a Priest" --
not for a few minutes on the Cross, but -- "for ever"[15]
For Macleod, as for the Anglican High Churchman Charles Gore and more than
for the liberal Presbyterian George Matheson, the focus of Christ's eternal
priesthood and sacrifice is on the heavenly altar:
If Christ is a priest still, what then must be His altar? Christ's
altar...is the altar at which He stands in Heaven. There is an
altar in Heaven, whatever we may say about the altar on earth...The
Apostle say "We have an altar", and many an evangelical explains this
by saying, "We have not an altar". I stand forth and say, "We have
an altar", that altar which is a spiritual reality, that altar which is
in Heaven at which Jesus stands, at which we stand in Him, and on
which we are called to present towards the Father a spiritual
sacrifice, the Eucharist of Thanksgiving. Then we go forth into the
world "to do good and to communicate forget not -- for with such
sacrifice God is well pleased."[16]
Here we reach the heart of Macleod's sacrificial theology. It is absolutely
and totally focussed on the Eucharist understood as sacrifice, not in the
sense of a repetition or re-enacting of the sacrifice on Calvary, made once
and once only, but a mysterious and essentially joyful participation in and
linking with the perpetual sacrifice made by the risen and ascended
Christ, the great high priest, on the altar in Heaven.
I have said almost nothing in this paper about the liturgical reforms with
which John Macleod is associated perhaps above all others in the nineteenth
century Church of Scotland. This is partly because this area has been so
well covered by others, notably Dr. Douglas Murray, and partly because that is
the subject to which I propse to turn in the more appropriate setting of the
sanctuary when I preach on Macleod's understanding of the nature of Christian
worship in Govan Old Church tomorrow morning. But it is principally because
believe that the whole panoply of liturgical reforms which Macleod set in
train and which landed him in so much trouble, the observance of Holy Week,
the dressing of the communion table with a cloth embroidered with a Cross,
the daily services, the layout of the sanctuary in the rebuilt Govan Church,
and above all the more frequent celebrations of communion were grounded in
his theology of sacrifice and specifically his sense of the encounter in
the Eucharist with Christ the eternally sacrificing High Priest:
I cannot find words to express how profound is my conviction that
a deeper spiritual life cannot be reached until men realise...their
vocation as consecrated worshippers, and the provision that has been
made for the fulfilling and presenting before God the Sacrifice of
Thanksgiving in the Holy Supper.
It is obvious that there flows from that, not merely the necessity
of the perpetual celebration of the Holy Communion, but also the
propriety of celebrating it with joy...When we go up to that
Holy Rite, we go -- not so much remembering the sacrifice finished
amid such appalling darkness on the Cross, but -- remembering our
unity with the Saviour who is alive, with the risen Jesus,
realising his Priesthood and our unity with Him, and the triumph
and the joy of the Resurrection Life[16].
Notes:
- John C. MacFarlane, An Outline History of Govan Old Parish Church
( Glasgow, 1965 ), p.51
- Ibid. p.49
- Ibid. p.49
- Roger S. Kilpatrick, The Ministry of Dr. John Macleod in the Parish of
Govan ( Edinburgh, 1915 ), p.10 note 1.
- Ibid. pp.10-11
- Pastoral Letter, 6 April, 1892, p.1
- John Macleod, The Seven Sayings of our Lord on the Cross ( Glasgow, 1928 ), p.9
- "Memorandum relating to Assistants' work", appendix no. XI in R. S.
Kirkpatrick, p.277
- Pastoral Letter, 6 April, 1892, p.1
- Pastoral Letter, 29 October 1885, p.2
- R. S. Kirkpatrick, p.159,161
- J. Macleod, The Gospel of the Holy Communion ( Glasgow, 1907 and 1927 ), p.3
- Ian C. Bradley, ed., O Love that wilt not let me go ( London, 1990 ),
pp.39-40. The whole subject of nineteenth century sacrificial theology is
dealt with in my book, The Power of Sacrifice ( London, 1995 ), Chapter 6
- J. Macleod, The Gospel of the Holy Communion, p.3
- Ibid. p.100,103
- Ibid. pp.109-10
- Ibid. p.110
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