especially the Communions. Many of the people journeyed at night toward
the selected spot, for troops were overrunning the country to shoot them
down, and day travel was extremely dangerous. They therefore followed
their path in the light of the stars, or under the pale moon. They came
from all directions, converged like streams at the place appointed, and
spread out like an overflowing tide. Sometimes they numbered 5,000, and
more. Men and women, young and old, came and sat down on the broad
green, in quietness and with unwonted gravity. The men in their kilts,
plaids, and caps; the women in shawls and plain clothes; the boys and
girls beaming and bright, and dressed in their best--all gathered
together, sitting down on the grass or on the rocks. What an inspiration
to the minister, when opening his Bible he gazed upon the earnest faces
and caught the gleam of those expectant eyes!
[Illustration: THE COVENANTERS' COMMUNION.
These communions were very spiritual and solemn. The people came in
great numbers into the solitudes of the mountain and moorlands, and
there renewed their Covenant at the Lord's Table. The danger added much
to the awe and reverence of these meetings.]
Saturday was Preparation day for the Communion. Preparation services
sometimes lasted till sunset Several ministers were usually in
attendance. At night the grave old elders would meet in clusters, under
the shadow of a rock, or in a cave, or beside the murmuring brook, and
spend hours in prayer. With the dawn of Sabbath the people were astir,
and soon appeared again on the grounds. Then began the solemn services
that lifted their souls into the heavens of joy, and brought them into
the glorious presence of Jesus Christ.
We may receive an impression of the greatness of these occasions, from
memorials yet to be seen on some of the sacred places where the
Communions were held. Certain stones near the town of Irongrey remain as
witnesses of these inspiring solemnities. The stones were evidently on
the ground, as witnesses of the wonderful doings of God and His people,
in the days of the Conventicles. Oh, that they could speak! This place
is in the bosom of a mount. Here we find an open space, like unto an
amphitheater, large enough to seat thousands. On this ground are two
rows of stones each row high enough for a seat, and long enough to
accommodate fifty persons. Between them, other stones stand upright,
which evidently supported planks, on which the bread and wine were
passed in front of the communicants. At a little distance are two other
rows of similar construction. Here were accommodations for 200 at one
table service. On one occasion, it is said, sixteen tables were served,
the number of communicants on that day being no less than 3,000.
At one end of these four rows stands a small table of stone, from which,
no doubt, the minister gave the bread and wine to the people. Here he
made the table addresses, that were so sweet and refreshing to these
weary souls. What solemn days these must have been. Hungry hearts found
a feast in the desert. The wells of salvation overflowed; the palm trees
of sacred ordinances shed their sweet fragrance, spread forth their
shade, yielded their fruit, for these followers of the Lamb. The
presence of the Lord was deeply felt. These Covenanters worshiped here
in spirit and in truth. Their prayers ascended on the wings of the
winds; the sound of the Psalms mingled with the song of the birds and
the chant of the brooks. The eloquence of the preacher--now rising like
the storm, now falling like a spring shower--now consoling the sad, now
arousing the strong--now exhibiting the loveliness of Jesus, now
depicting the woes of the lost--in its ever-varying notes of tenderness
and power, echoed along the hillside, and died away in the distance.
Some of these sermons are yet in print.
These have been regarded, by certain writers, as the greatest days of
the Church since the times of the apostles. How bright and refreshing
the sunshine that poured down from the spiritual heavens upon these
Covenanters! The desert rejoiced and blossomed as the rose. Heaven was
very near. One who survived the persecution said, that if he had any
part of his life to live over again, he would choose these years.
* * * * *
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
1. How should the Church respond to the love of Christ?
2. In what way does her love often fail?
3. How does Jesus reprove His people for growing feeble in love?
4. How has He sometimes undertaken to revive His Church's fidelity?
5. What two questions did the Covenanters face in attending Conventicle
services?
6. Describe a Conventicle Communion.
7. What memorials are found at Irongrey?
8. How may we have the same rapturous joy at communions now?
XXVIII.
THE HOME INVADED.--A.D. 1665.
Home, by Divine appointment, is a haven of rest for the weary father, a
palace of honor for the virtuous mother, a citadel of defence for the
helpless children. How sacred, pleasant, and ennobling is the Christian
home, when modeled after the Divine pattern! It is a little paradise, a
miniature heaven, a vestibule of the everlasting habitation; it fronts
on the borders of the glory-world.
The home of the Covenanters in those days was mostly the abode of virtue
and intelligence, of comfort in the Holy Spirit and abundant grace in
the Lord Jesus Christ. The knowledge of God was the light in which the
household dwelt. The language of the Shorter Catechism was the mother
tongue; the children were dieted on Psalms and porridge; the family
altar was indispensable; the Holy Bible was appreciated more than bread,
and King David's poetry more than roast lamb. The father's prayer at the
hearthstone was vital to the household as the breath of their nostrils;
morning and evening the voice of parents and children mingled together
in the worship of God.
To the family that kept Covenant with God the Sabbath came with peculiar
loveliness and inspiration. On Saturday evening special preparation was
made for the coming of the Lord's Day; even the turf was piled beside
the fire, the potatoes were washed and in the pot, and the water carried
from the spring; "the works of necessity and mercy" were reduced to a
minimum. A solemn hush fell upon the fields, and a heavenly light
gleamed upon the house, as the sun ascended the sky. The noise of labor
had ceased, and the human voice was suppressed. The notes of a plover,
or the bleating of a lamb, or the lowing of a cow, might be heard making
the quietness all the more impressive. The morning came pouring out
blessings upon the people, like Christ Jesus on the Mount of Beatitudes,
filling every open heart with sweetness, holiness, and inspiration. The
blessed morning came to lead the father and mother, with their sons and
daughters, up into the mountain of God's House, to stand in the presence
of the Lord of glory, and absorb the brightness that would shine in
their faces for many days to come. The Sabbath was the great day of the
week in the Covenanter's home.
Let us get a glimpse of these homes of the Covenanters, as they suffered
when the storms of persecution swept the land. But will not the
dwelling-place of the righteous be protected from harm? Will not the
Lord, in His glorious presence, hover over them as a cloud by day and as
a flaming fire by night? Hath He not said, "Upon all the glory shall be
a defence?" Shall the cruel persecutor then have power to tread on that
sacred threshold? May the ruthless slayer enter this little sanctuary,
where God and His children dwell together in mutual and unquenchable
love? Will the wicked be permitted to draw the sword, and quench the
coals on the hearth, and the fire on the altar, with the blood of the
worshipers? The answer is found in the story of the sufferings of the
Covenanters.
God had now begun judgment at His own House. He was testing the fidelity
of His people. The test must touch every point, cover every relation,
and reach the degree of suffering that satisfies His mysterious will.
God cares much, even for houses, fields, harvests, garners, comforts,
conveniences, earthly ties--He cares much for all these as they affect
His people. He cares infinitely more, however, for their moral
cleanness, spiritual growth, untarnished fidelity, unconquerable faith,
and everlasting honor. Therefore He permits the furnace to be heated,
and sometimes heated sevenfold; yet He brings them out of the flames
without the smell of fire on their garments.
The persecutors, heartless as the rocks and frigid as the iceberg, had
equal disregard for the rights of men, the delicacy of women, and the
innocency of children. A few incidents will show the general conditions.
Nor are these exceptional cases; thousands, yea, tens of thousands
suffered in like manner.
[Illustration: THE HOWIE HOME, LOCHGOIN.
The house is located in one of Scotland's solitudes. Here the Howies
have lived for 28 successive generations, keeping the altar fire burning
since 1178. The present house is modern, bearing the date 1858; John
Howie, the present occupant, (1912), is the 28th lineal descendant of
one of the first settlers. We had the pleasure of meeting this genial
Scotchman in his meadow, as he was making hay one fine August day. He
immediately laid his fork aside, and brought us to his house, where we
were deeply interested in a fine collection of souvenirs of the martyrs
and their times.]
A Home at Lochgoin. This is a very ancient residence of the Covenanters.
The Howies have lived here since 1178, the twenty-eighth generation now
occupying the house. The building is stone, one story high, with a loft.
While the persecution raged, this was a chief resort of the Covenanters.
Occupying a solitary place, with a vast out-stretch of waste moorland on
every side, this house was like the shadow of a great rock in a weary
land: the pursued often found shelter under its roof. Hither Peden,
Cameron, Renwick, Paton, and many others repaired, and found a cordial
welcome. On one occasion a group had come to spend the night in prayer.
They felt comparatively secure, because a storm was raging over the
moor. The clouds were pouring down torrents, and the fitful gusts were
playing wildly across the broad expanse of moss and heather. These men
of God knew how to wrestle with the Angel of the Covenant, and betimes
continued their prayers till the break of day. The pursuers had scented
their game; in the morning a detachment of cavalry rode up to the house.
The Covenanters escaped through the back door. To give them more time,
Mrs. Howie stood in front of the soldiers, and disputed their entrance
into the house. A burly dragoon attempted to push in. She grappled him
by the shoulder, whirled him about, and shoved him out with such force
that he fell to the ground. Her Covenanted guests all escaped, and the
soldiers, after a fruitless pursuit, withdrew. For this heroic service
Mrs. Howie suffered much and her life was sought. Often she had to leave
her home, and spend whole nights in the cold, damp moor, with a tender
babe on her breast.
A Home near Muirkirk. James Glendinning was a shepherd whose humble
cottage escaped not the notice of the persecutor. Knowing the danger
that enshrouded his home, he arose one evening from his knees after
family worship, and, walking softly across the floor, uncovered the
cradle and gently lifted the babe, which he tenderly placed on the
mother's knee, saying, "I commit you, my dear wife, and this sweet babe
to the fatherly care of the Great Shepherd of Israel. If my days be cut
short, God, the God under whose shadow we have taken refuge, will be to
you a Husband, and to this child a Father." Not long after this, the
home was beset by a company of soldiers. That very night his wife had
constrained him to retire to his hiding-place near by. The soldiers
rudely rushed into the house, expecting to pounce upon him as their
prey. Not finding him they were enraged. Seizing the infant, they held
the struggling form up in the face of the frantic mother, and, flashing
a glittering sword, threatened to cut it into pieces, if she did not
reveal the hiding-place of her husband. At that moment the father, who
had been attracted to the door, seeing the manoeuvres, rushed in. His
soul was on fire; he was just then strong as ten men; he feared not
consequences. "Hold, ye murderers! Back! back!" cried he, waving his
sword in their faces. He sprang toward his babe and rescued it, while he
used his sword with telling effect upon the intruders. The soldiers
retreated, leaving the floor sprinkled with their blood. The family soon
afterward removed to Holland.
A Home near Closeburn. James Nivison was a farmer whose hospitable home
afforded comfort and shelter to many who were houseless. He was an
unbending Covenanter. Nothing could daunt his noble soul. Being
threatened with trouble and loss, he once replied, that if the turning
of a straw, in obedience to unprincipled and arbitrary rulers, would
save him from harm, he would not comply. His wife was of equal heroism.
His home was so often beset by soldiers in search of him, that he had to
retire to the solitudes. He one day said to his wife, "My dear wife,
stern necessity demands our temporary separation. God will be with us
both--you at the home, and me in the wilderness." "I will accompany
you," she firmly replied; "I will accompany you. If the archers hit
you, I will be there to staunch your wounds and to bind up your bleeding
head. In whatever danger you may be, I will be at your side, your
affectionate wife, in life or in death." They went out together. Sadly
they closed the door of their pleasant home, to wander, not knowing
where. The mother carried a tender little babe in her bosom. Their first
retreat was found in the woods, then in different caves. They made a
basket of twigs for the infant. The mother, sitting in the mouth of the
cold cavern, would rock her little darling, and sing the soft lullabies
that mingled with the sighing of the winds. They survived the
persecution.
Sweet home! The Covenanted home is but an annex of heaven. Home is God's
institution, endowed by Him with the wealth of infinite grace, furnished
with holy ordinances, and consecrated with the blood of Christ. Do we
appreciate the value, the dignity, and the advantage of a Covenanted
home? Do we keep the home bright, cheerful, and inspiring, by worshiping
our Covenant God, and honoring the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ?
* * * * *
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
1. Describe a Covenanted home of the olden time.
2. What distresses fell upon these homes?
3. Can we account for these afflictive providences?
4. What is the explanation?
5. Give an incident at Lochgoin; Muirkirk; Closeburn.
6. How should a Covenanted home be appreciated?
XXIX.
THE BATTLE OF RULLION GREEN.--A.D. 1666.
A young Covenanter once stood on the battlefield of Rullion Green,
pensively pondering over the battle and the heroes whose blood had
watered this soil. Two centuries and more had fled since the engagement,
yet the field appealed to the responsive heart with powerful eloquence.
The beautiful slope, the verdant pasture, the grazing flocks, the broad
valley, the distant hills, the expansive sky, the summer charms--all
blended into a strange enchantment around the young man's soul. The
quiet meditation quickened the heart; the heart aroused the imagination;
the imagination revived the scenes of November 28, 1666, by which this
field was made memorable in the struggle of the Covenanters for civil
and religious liberty. He was deeply impressed with the value of the
Covenant, which was sealed with the blood of the noble warriors who
sleep on this hillside. There he vowed, that if God would ever give him
a home of his own, the home would be called RULLION GREEN. God gave him
a home; a beautiful residence, adorned with this name, graces the city
of Airdrie to-day.
The battle of Rullion Green had its cause many days previous to the
actual engagement. We will get the better view by following the chain of
events.
Four years before this, to the very month, four hundred ministers had
been expelled from their churches, because they would not forsake their
Covenant, renounce Presbyterianism, and follow the instructions of King
Charles and his Council, in the administration of God's House.
The Covenanted people, deeply in sympathy with their ministers, refused
to wait on the preaching of the curates--the ministers of the Episcopal
Church sent by the authority of the king to supply the vacant pulpits.
A series of proclamations was then issued to bring the Covenanters into
subjection, each proclamation being severer than the one preceding.
The people were enjoined to attend their own parish church, warned
against going to the Conventicles, and threatened with fines,
imprisonment, and exile for frequenting what the king termed
"unwarrantable preaching."
To enforce the royal will and overawe the Covenanters, troops were
stationed among the people and commissioned to plunder and kill the
disobedient at will.
The sufferings of the Covenanters, at the hands of the soldiers, were
indescribable. Their homes were invaded; their property was confiscated;
their flocks and herds were driven off; their families were broken up;
the aged and delicate, the women and children--all who would not yield
to their demands endured personal violence. The country groaned and
staggered under the cruelty authorized by King Charles, and practiced by
his agents.
Conditions became desperate; the wise were driven mad; patience ceased
to be a virtue; endurance was at the point of conflagration. Thousands
had to flee and keep in hiding, to escape personal harm and even the
shedding of their blood.
At this juncture of events, four young Covenanters, fleeing from place
to place for safety, came to a dwelling, where they found four dragoons
preparing to roast an old man on a gridiron, to extract information
concerning his money. The sight shocked every noble feeling; their
manhood was aroused, and their courage was greater than their prudence.
They challenged the conduct of the soldiers, and were answered with
drawn swords. The Covenanters came off best. They rescued the aged
victim, disarmed the soldiers, and marched them off at the point of
their own sabers. In the fight one of the Covenanters fired a pistol,
wounding a dragoon. That was "the shot that echoed around the world,"
and re-echoed, till it resounded over the green valley of the Boyne,
among the rocks of Bunker Hill, and along the banks of the Appomattox.
The Covenanters knew that they had now precipitated a conflict, that
would call armies into the field. The king's measures have hitherto been
severe, but now the furnace will be heated seven fold. The Covenanters
must now meet force with force, or be utterly crushed. They attempted to
raise an army. Next morning, the four men were increased to ten, and a
second encounter resulted in the capture of a detachment of the king's
regulars, with one dead. The second day volunteers swelled the number to
250; the prospects were growing bright. Another engagement resulted in
the surrender of Sir James Turner, the local commander of the royal
forces. Thus far the operations greatly encouraged the Covenanters; they
now hoped to be able to redress their grievances, and compel the king to
withdraw his army, thus bringing the horrors of those times to an end.
King Charles hastily prepared to meet the new conditions. He termed the
uprising, "A formidable insurrection." He massed his troops to crush
"the rebels." The Covenanters spent their time moving from one town to
another to increase their forces. Colonel James Wallace, a brave officer
of considerable military experience, was chosen commander. The recruits
were not numerous. They were also without discipline, and inefficiently
armed, carrying muskets, pistols, swords, pikes, scythes, pitchforks,
and flails.
[Illustration: GRAVESTONE AT RULLION GREEN.
The stone, three feet by two, stands at the head of this battlefield.
Beautiful firs pensively wave their soft branches over the grave. Here
lies the dust of the 50 Covenanters who fell on the sloping field in
front of the stone. On that day it was covered with sleet. The fallen
lay all night, some stiffened in death, and others benumbed with the
Sharp November winds. The next morning, the good women of Edinburgh
came, with shrouds for the dead, and blankets for the living, all having
been stripped by the foe.]
At Lanark they remained a day, renewing their Covenant and issuing a
Public Declaration, stating that the object of their appeal to arms was
the redress of their grievances. The next day they manoeuvred, coming in
contact with detachments of the enemy. The weather was unfavorable;
rain, snow, sleet, and wind united in drenching, chilling, and
depressing the unsheltered and underfed men, and turning the roads, over
which they marched, into deep mire. When the morning of the 28th
arrived, the day of the battle, Colonel Wallace had only 900 men at his
command.
The Covenanters were moving around the foot of the Pentland hills, a few
miles from Edinburgh, when General Dalziel, with 3000 of the king's
troops, emerged from a pass behind them, and offered battle. Wallace
accepted the challenge. He formed his men for action on the hillside,
having the advantage of the higher ground. The gentle slope extended
down to the spot where Dalziel's war-horse was pawing the ground. The
sun was sinking behind the hills. The day was cold and the country was
covered with sleet.
Dalziel ordered an attack by his cavalry. The horsemen formed, each with
blade in hand, and moved rapidly up the rising ground. Colonel Wallace
immediately placed his mounted men in readiness to receive them. The
space between the armies was about half a mile. The Covenanters grimly
watched their approach. The waiting moments were burdened with awe, but
the Covenanters knew how to turn awful moments into power. They carried
the Psalms in their hearts. Some one began to sing. The Psalm was
pensive and the tune solemn. All hearts were responsive; from 900 voices
a wave of sacred music rolled up the mountain-side against the heavens.
The very sentiment seemed to be the stirring of hearts, that were
consciously entering into a forlorn battle:
"O God, why hast Thou cast us off?
Is it for evermore?
Against Thy pasture-sheep why doth
Thine anger smoke so sore?"
They sang three stanzas. While the echoes were dying away, the brave
Colonel ordered a charge. Adown the field his horsemen dashed. They
struck the enemy with terrific force, broke their ranks, and hurled them
back upon their own base.
Dalziel ordered another charge. The troops plunge forward to retrieve
their lost honor. Over the blood-stained snow they gallop; nearer and
nearer they approach the stern line awaiting them on the hillside.
Wallace gives the word, and the Covenanters again strike the gleaming
column with clash of swords, once more rolling it back upon itself in
confusion.
A third time the cavalry charged up the hill, and a third time the
Covenanters hurled them back. Dalziel at last moved his entire force
forward, which, like a tidal wave, carried all before it. The
Covenanters were swept from the field leaving 50 dead. The battle was
lost, but not the cause. These heroes fought well. The defeat was
certain, in their own minds, even before a shot was fired; but believing
that the cause of liberty now demanded a sacrifice, they freely offered
up themselves on the altar.
Rullion Green! How euphonic the name! What music in the words! What
clustering memories to awaken all that is heroic and ennobling in our
hearts! De we appreciate the fruits of the fields, fertilized with the
blood of the fathers? Are we loyal as they were to the Covenants? Do our
lives arise into the heroic spirit, and take on the moral grandeur
exhibited by them?
* * * * *
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
1. What led to the battle of Rullion Green?
2. Who commanded on each side?
3. What was the respective strength of the forces?
4. Where was the engagement fought?
5. Describe the battle. How did it issue?
6. For what were the Covenanters contending?
7. What fruits of their sufferings do we now enjoy?
XXX.
THE OPPRESSOR'S REVENGE.--A.D. 1667.
The sun was sinking behind the Pentland hills, when the last assault was
made upon the Covenanters at the battle of Rullion Green. They, being
driven from the field, were pursued without mercy till night kindly
threw its shadow over the scene of carnage. About 30 were slaughtered in
the flight, and 50 taken prisoners; many of these were speedily
executed.
The stars timidly arose and shed their pale light over the crimsoned
field. The night was bitterly cold. The dead lay scattered over the
frosted ground, and the air was burdened with the groans of the dying.
All had been barbarously stripped of their clothing by the ruthless
conquerors. The blood of the dying was chilled in their veins, ere it
oozed from their wounds and froze upon the ground. The tender-hearted
women of Edinburgh came the next day, with clothes for the living and
winding sheets for the dead. An upright stone, two feet by three, marks
the place where these soldiers of Christ, in number about 50, calmly
sleep, awaiting the resurrection of the just. Beautiful fir trees
swaying their soft branches over the grave seem to be singing the dirge
of the fallen heroes.
Heroes! This was a forlorn battle. The battle that must be lost, that
other battles may be won, demands heroes of the noblest type; and here
were the men. They were willing to fight in the presence of defeat.
Listen to their resolution just before the battle: "We will follow on,
till God shall do His service by us; and though we should all die at the
end of it, we think the giving of a testimony enough for all."
The little army of the Covenanters, broken and bleeding, was now
scattered upon the mountains and completely disorganized. One of these
men, wandering alone, came to a cottage at midnight. He was bleeding,
hungry, weary, utterly exhausted, ready to die. He asked for food and
shelter. The pitiful request was denied, for such kindness, if the
authorities were informed, would endanger the family; and the penalty
might be expulsion, imprisonment, or death. No cup of cold water for
this thirsty soul; no spark of charity to warm this shivering child of
the Covenant. Feeling the chill of death already creeping through his
veins, he touchingly said, "If you find me dead in the morning, bury me
on the hillside, looking toward my home beyond the valley." In the
morning he was found dead, under an oak beside the house. He was buried
as he had requested. A stone, with an interesting inscription, marks the
grave.
After this battle the Covenanters were subjected to a period of horrors
that exhaust description. This brief warlike demonstration was by the
government called "The Pentland Rising." The men who had placed
themselves under Colonel Wallace, for the redress of their wrongs, had
come from the adjacent counties. General Dalziel was immediately sent
with an army to punish the people of these districts. Here we must draw
a veil and cover the more shocking barbarities and hideous indignities;
the unmentionable crimes practiced upon these Covenanters, who already
had suffered beyond the limit of patience; upon the men, women, and
children who were as inoffensive, as they were helpless, beneath the
monstrous tyranny of King Charles and his brutal soldiers.
The story of pillage may be painted in flames; the story of revenge may
be recorded in vitriol; the story of carnage may be written in blood;
but the story of the horrors that befell the Covenanted families,
especially the delicate and helpless members of the household, must not
be told. The manner in which fathers, husbands, and brothers stood and
died on the door-step in defence of mothers, wives, sisters, and
daughters may be related; but the inhumanity that followed must not be
mentioned. Purity shudders at the horror; the heart sickens at the
thought; the eyes instinctively turn away.
General Dalziel quartered his army upon the Covenanters, sent troops in
all directions to raid the country, disinherited those who were engaged
in the "Uprising", subjected to arrest all who were suspected, and
reduced the people to extremest poverty. The soldiers lived in the homes
of the Covenanters, compelled the family to provide boarding, and
proudly tyrannized over the household. They devoured, or destroyed the
crops; slaughtered, or drove off the flocks and herds; tortured,
imprisoned, and shot the people according to their pleasure. The prisons
were overcrowded with old and young, men and women, the sickly and the
dying.
Three men under the king were chiefly responsible for these atrocities,
and all three were reprobate Covenanters. Their names can be mentioned
only with abhorrence and detestation; the Earl of Lauderdale, the Earl
of Rothes, and Archbishop Sharp. Lauderdale, formerly known as John
Maitland, one of the Scotch Commissioners at the Westminster Assembly,
shined in that bright galaxy as a morning star; but like Lucifer, son of
the morning, he fell from the glory-crested height. Rothes was the son
of the Earl of Rothes, celebrated for his active part in the Covenant of
1638. Archbishop Sharp was a Covenanted minister, previous to the
restoration of King Charles. Such were the chief actors in these scenes
of infernal cruelty practiced upon the Covenanters. Surely they could
not have been so atrociously wicked, had they not been previously
exalted to heaven in privilege and by profession. Satan could not have
been the devil, had he not first been an angel.
[Illustration: RUTHERFORD'S MONUMENT AT ANWOTH.
Rutherford's pastorate at Anwoth was pleasant and prosperous. His church
was filled with people, and his home was the abode of peace. Yet that
blessed home was disturbed by the persecutor. Rutherford was condemned,
and compelled to abide at Aberdeen as a prisoner, "six quarters of ane
yeir." The glory of the Lord was there upon him, and he called his
prison, "Christ's Palace."]
Some prisoners taken at Rullion Green were, after their execution,
utilized by the government, for the intimidation of the Covenanters.
Their heads were set up in public places in various cities, as a
gruesome warning to all others. These men, when on the way to Rullion
Green, had paused at Lanark to renew their Covenant. There they lifted
up the right hand to heaven, making their appeal to God. Now those right
hands are cut off and set up on spikes over the gates of the city--a
grim admonition to the living.
Some of the prisoners were reserved for the slower process of law, and
the severer operations of cruelty. John Neilson became conspicuous
through the tortures he endured, the noble spirit he displayed, and the
death by which he glorified God. He was a man renowned for his wealth,
as well as for great-heartedness. The preceding year Sir James Turner,
when commanding the king's troops, despoiled him of his property; yet
when that lawless officer had been taken prisoner by the Covenanters,
Neilson pleaded for him and saved his life. Now Neilson is in his hands.
Will the kindness be returned? Ah, kindness returned! Rather feel for a
pulse in the cold granite or look upon the white marble for a loving
smile.
The Court questioned Neilson, but his answers were not satisfactory.
They tortured him, but could extract nothing further. They thrust one of
his legs into an iron boot, and crushed it with a wedge, driven between
the flesh and the iron; yet nothing but groans were extorted from him.
Filled with wrath, because a confession involving others could not be
elicited, they passed the death sentence on him. He went cheerfully to
the scaffold.
Hugh M'Kail, a young minister of Jesus Christ, was another victim. He
was a man mighty in the Scriptures and full of the Holy Spirit. His lips
were touched with a live coal from the altar of God, his eloquence was
seraphic. In one of his impassionate outbursts he had said, "The Church
in all ages has been persecuted by a Pharaoh on the throne, a Haman in
the state, and a Judas in the Church." Archbishop Sharp heard of the
terse statement. The lightning had struck the mark. Sharp appropriated
the caricature, and saw Judas personified in his own character. He never
forgave the young minister.
M'Kail was put on trial for his connection with the Pentland Rising. He
candidly confessed his part in the insurrection. The Court then demanded
information concerning the leaders; he had none to impart. They then
tortured him with the iron boot; the only response was groans. He
swooned in the dreadful agony.
This noble young minister was sentenced to die. He received the sentence
with serene happiness. When on the scaffold, he was filled with
unutterable joy; his victory over fear and death was complete; his soul
was clothed with immortal bliss. His highest hopes were now turning into
realizations that were ten thousand times brighter and more glorious
than his most sanguine expectations. The Lord Jesus was at his side; the
heavens were opening to receive him; in a few moments his face would
shine in the light that dazzled angels, and his voice would mingle in
the chorus of the redeemed round about the throne. What wonder that he
poured forth the ecstasy of a transfigured soul in these his last words:
"Welcome, God and Father; welcome, sweet Jesus, the Mediator of the new
Covenant; welcome, blessed Spirit of grace, and God of all consolation;
welcome, glory; welcome, eternal life; welcome, death. O Lord, into Thy
hands I commit my spirit; for Thou hast redeemed my soul, Lord God of
truth."
These were the winter days of the Church. But the winter was like
summer in fruitfulness. How nobly did she endure the inclement season
and produce fruit of excellent quality! We are enjoying the summer time
of peace and comfort, of privileges and advantages. How much more
abundant should be our labors of love than even theirs, in the Lord
Jesus Christ! A comparison, we fear, would put us to great disadvantage,
perhaps to shame.
* * * * *
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
1. What cruelties practiced on the Covenanters on Rullion Green field?
2. Describe the wounded Covenanter seeking shelter.
3. What horrors followed the battle?
4. What atrocities committed by Gen. Dalziel's troops?
5. What three men were in great part responsible for the cruelties?
6. Describe the sufferings of John Neilson.
7. Relate the sufferings of Hugh McKail.
8. How did he meet his death?
9. What special advantages have we for serving God?
XXXI.
INDULGENCE, THE SIX-FOLD SNARE.--A.D. 1665.
The Covenanters, after the Pentland Rising, were placed under martial
law. Every district was garrisoned and overrun with troops. The
military, having been empowered to plunder, pillage, and punish at their
caprice, did not hesitate to shoot down innocent people without trial,
leaving them weltering in their own blood. King Charles accounted the
Covenanters rebels to be subdued with fire and sword. He was determined
upon their subjection, or destruction. "Better," said one in his
service, "that the land bear whins than whigs." The Covenanters were
called whigs; the whins were worthless bushes.
The Covenanters rebels! Be it remembered that Scotland was under a
Constitutional government, and the Constitution was embodied in the
Covenant. Also, the king and the people had accepted the Covenant on
oath. Yet in the face of all this, King Charles attempted to rescind the
Covenant, destroy the Constitution, and assume absolute power. Ah, was
not Charles the rebel? Was not he the traitor, the revolutionist, the
autocrat who attempted to turn things upside down? The Covenanters were
the Old Guard, who stood for law, justice, government, and
constitutional rights, on the accepted basis--God's law and Covenant.
Nor did the Old Guard ever yield the field; they occupy it yet.
True, the Covenanters did decline the king's authority in certain
particulars! But were they not justifiable? A glance at the situation
will solve the question.
The king, having expelled the Covenanted ministers, substituted others
of his own choice. The Covenanters refused to hear them.
The king restricted the Covenanters to their own parishes in public
worship. They went where they pleased.
The king forbade marriages or baptisms, except by Episcopal ministers.
The Covenanters went to their own ministers for these services.
The king ordered them to observe the Episcopal form of worship. They
believed this to be unscriptural, and refused.
The king commanded the people to deliver up their ministers to the
authorities for punishment. This they would in no wise do.
The Covenanters rebels, because they declined the king's authority in
matters like these? How could they have done otherwise? Two courses lay
before them; resist the tyrant's will, or submit as his slaves. Blessed
be the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave them light, strength, courage, and
victory. These fathers of the Covenant chose to suffer and be free; to
endure the king's wrath and keep a pure conscience; to disdain every
suggestion of compromise and continue the conflict. The invitation to
come down, and consult on the plains of Ono, was answered by its own
echo--O, no.
The Covenanters, like the Israelites, flourished while in this great
tribulation. They were fruitful, and increased abundantly, and
multiplied, and waxed exceeding mighty; and the land was filled with
them. The more they were afflicted, the more they multiplied and grew.
Their ministers were numbered by hundreds; the people, who assembled in
Conventicles, by tens of thousands. Oppression could not crush them; the
furnace, though heated seven times more than it was wont, could not
singe their garments. Their adversaries became alarmed and began to
devise other measures. Their device was diabolical wisdom. Satan, having
had more than three thousand years since he failed on Israel in Egypt,
was now better up to his work. The king proposed to indulge the
ministers. The royal indulgence was surely a product of the bottomless
pit. The snare was laid six times and caught many unwary souls.
[Illustration: ANNIVERSARY OF A CONVENTICLE.
The people of Scotland delight to do honor to the memory of the martyrs.
In many places they hold anniversary meetings on the grounds made
memorable by some signal event in the times of persecution. Here is the
picture of one of these thrilling meetings, held on the scene of a
Conventicle near Loudon-hill.]
The First Indulgence was granted in 1669. The expelled ministers were
offered pardon, and permission to return to their churches on certain
conditions stipulated by the king. Forty-two accepted the Indulgence,
and by that very act conceded the king's right to expel, and to recall,
the ministers of Christ, at his own pleasure. The great principles for
which they had suffered were thereby sacrificed--the supremacy of the
Lord Jesus Christ over His Church, and the Church's independence under
Christ.
What were the conditions upon which these ministers returned? We give
them in substance:
1. They must attend the meetings of the Prelatic ministers.
2. They must permit none of the people from other parishes to attend
their services.
3. They must refrain from speaking or preaching against the king's
supremacy.
4. They must not criticize the king or his government.
The Indulgence, with such conditions, was accepted by forty-two
ministers. Are we surprised? Do we wonder that so many relaxed under the
strain of persecution, and returned to their own vine and fig tree? Let
not censure, from her bowers of ease, be too severe. The hardships of
these men were great, the sufferings excessive, the outlook dark. They
were worn and sickly; they were filled with pain by exposure to storms,
living in caves, and sleeping on the ground. Their lives were in
jeopardy every hour. Yet it must be said that these ministers sacrificed
much for which they had long and nobly battled; they capitulated on
terms dictated by the enemy, surrendered their rights as the ambassadors
of Christ, and accepted conditions that made them bond servants of King
Charles. They were caught in the snare.
The Second Indulgence was issued in 1672. Eighty ministers were selected
by the king for this bait, and most of them swallowed it. Yet among the
eighty some inflexible men were found on whom the deceitful offer had no
effect. They knew how to endure hardness as good soldiers. One of them
on receiving the legal notice at the hand of an official said, "I cannot
be so uncivil as to refuse this paper offered me by your lordship." Then
letting it fall to the ground, he added, "But I can receive no
instructions from you, regulating my ministry; for then I would be your
ambassador, not Christ's." He was immediately thrust into prison, and
continued there till death. The Third Indulgence was another snare,
equally deceitful and injurious.
The other three were offered by King James VII., and all were of the
same nature, only each being more lenient, seductive, and Satanic, than
the one preceding. The Indulgence was a dragnet, drawing large hauls of
hungry fish, and leaving them to squirm on the shores of sinful
compromises.
The Covenanters who remained faithful were greatly diminished. The
ministers were decimated until few were left. Yet as the banner of the
Covenant fell from the hand of one, it was snatched up by another, and
defiantly given to the breeze. At no moment did the battle cease for
lack of heroes.
The Indulgence did what sword, pillage, prison, torture, exile,
gibbet--all could not do; it shattered the Covenanted forces and wasted
their power. The fiercest fires of persecution only fused the elements,
and consolidated the mass of metal. But the fruit of Indulgence was
debate, dissension, distraction, division, and decimation. The tree is
known by its fruit; the fruit was bad, very bad. The non-Indulged
charged their brethren with betrayal of Christ and His cause. The
Indulged retorted, that the king's offer opened the way back to the
churches, and refusal to accept protracted the evil times. Thus the host
of God was divided against itself; Judah against Israel, and Israel
against Judah. Archbishop Sharp had boasted, that by the Indulgence he
would throw a "bone of contention" among the Presbyterians. He judged
rightly.
The cause of Christ still demands self-sacrifice. Fidelity to Jesus
Christ is hard on the flesh; it always has been and always will be. The
friendship of this world is enmity against God, and against all who
sincerely love God. To make terms with the world is to forfeit God's
love. The Church has lost much of the heroic heart, the militant power,
the iron nerve, and the fire of the Holy Spirit, by reason of ease,
indulgence, compromise, and inordinate desire for the friendship of the
world. "If we suffer, we shall also reign with Him; if we deny Him, He
also will deny us."
* * * * *
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
1. Why were the Covenanters styled rebels?
2. How did the king try to suppress them?
3. On what points did they refuse to obey the king?
4. Were they justifiable? On what grounds?
5. How did the persecuted people increase?
6. What new attempt to divide and destroy them?
7. How many Indulgences were offered?
8. On what terms were ministers permitted to return home?
9. What effect had the Indulgences on the Covenanters?
10. What present danger along the line of Indulgence?
XXXII.
THE FIELD MEETINGS UNDER FIRE.--A.D. 1679.
The king's Indulgence did double work on the persecuted ministers. The
Indulgence was a surgical knife that removed the spinal nerve of the
Indulged; and it was a sharp sword launched at the heart of those who
refused the Indulgence. The proclamation that offered pardon announced
desperate measures against all who declined the offer. The persecution
thereby grew fiercer and the sufferings more insufferable.
The Indulgence thinned the Covenanted ranks; many ministers withdrew
from the Old Blue Banner with its golden motto: "FOR CHRIST'S CROWN AND
COVENANT." Home! sweet, sweet home had charmed the heart. The Indulged
were no more worthy of being called Covenanters. They had lost zeal,
courage, place, and name among the worthies. Some however repented and
returned to the solitudes. Their home, as they had crossed the
threshold, was to them no more like home, but a gloomy prison, a dreary
waste, an intolerable place, because the heart condemned them, and God
was greater than the heart. These went back to their brethren, to endure
hardness as good soldiers for Christ's sake. Persecution with all its
hardships, in comparison with the Indulgence, was a paradise while the
love of Jesus Christ enamored the soul.
The ministers who remained loyal to the Lord and the Covenant were
pursued by men who drove like Jehu. The Conventicles, however,
continued. The Covenanters swarmed on the grounds where the preaching
was appointed. They refused to hear the curates of the Episcopal Church,
and likewise the ministers who had returned through the king's
Indulgence. The latter had forfeited their confidence and respect. The
people, forsaking the parish churches, traveled to the moors and
mountains for their preaching. There they found their own ministers, the
unconquerable ambassadors of Christ, the uncompromising messengers of
God.
A price was placed upon the heads of these ministers, by the government
of King Charles. They were hunted like partridges upon the mountains.
Let them be brought in, dead or alive, and the prize will range in value
from $500 to $2,000. The people were commanded to refuse them bread,
lodging, fellowship, all kindness and support, that they might perish
without a helping hand or a consoling word. To attend their preaching
was accounted a crime to be punished by the judges, an act of rebellion
worthy of imprisonment or death.
The ministers were not overawed, nor were the people intimidated.
Field-preaching characterized the times. Conventicles were more numerous
and the attendance larger than hitherto. It was estimated that, on a
certain Sabbath, an aggregate of 16,000 attended three meetings held in
one county. Men, women, and children traveled miles and miles to these
sequestered spots among the hills and on the moors, in defiance of all
threats and in face of all clangers. There they stayed through the long
Sabbath hours, listening to the rich, sweet Gospel of Christ, while the
ministers spoke with earnestness as from the very portals of eternity.
The Conventicles flourished in spite of every effort to suppress them.
The king and his counselors became alarmed and sent the "Highland host,"
a vicious army of 10,000 strong, to extinguish these hated
Field-meetings. The Covenanters suffered at their hands, as by a foreign
invasion. The military atrocities, horrible before, were now barbarous
in the extreme. "Fire, and blood, and vapors of smoke" marked the path
of these brutal men as they raided the country. Yet the Conventicles
were not extinguished.
To meet the conditions of increasing terror, the Covenanters came to the
Field-meetings armed and ready for self-defence. Sentries were
stationed on the hills that towered above the worshipers, and the
discharge of a gun was the signal of danger. At the approach of
soldiers, the people quietly dispersed, if escape were possible; if not,
then the armed men drew out and lined up for battle. Many a time the
worship of God was suddenly turned into the clash of arms.
The Lomond-hills formed good places for these meetings. On one occasion,
a large concourse of people had assembled amidst these sheltering
heights. Rev. John Wellwood, a young minister whom the soldiers could
not catch, was feasting these hungry souls with the Word of life. Some
of his sermons are still extant. They are rich in nourishment, nervous
with earnestness, and flashing with fiery eloquence, he lived in the
dark days, but died exclaiming, "Now, eternal light! no more night, nor
darkness to me." While the people this day were feasting on his words,
the signal announced the approach of the dragoons. The people quietly
moved up the "brae." The soldiers rode up and delivered five volleys
into the crowd. The balls whizzed among the men, women, and children,
but none were hurt. A ledge of rock prevented an attack. The captain
commanded them to dismiss. "We will," they replied, "when the service is
over, if you promise us no harm." The promise was given, yet the
treacherous troops dashed upon the hindmost and captured eighteen.
An attack was made also on a Conventicle held at Lillies-leaf moor. A
large number of people had assembled. The famous John Blackader was
preaching. The alarm shot was fired when the minister was in the middle
of the afternoon sermon. He at once closed the service with a few words
to allay fear. The people stood in their places, showing no excitement.
The troopers came up at full gallop and formed in battle line in front
of the Covenanters. The soldiers were astonished at the calmness of the
people. A sullen pause followed; not a word, not a movement. The officer
broke the silence, shouting, "In the name of the king, I charge you to
dismiss." The reply was immediate: "We are here in the name of the King
of heaven, to hear the Gospel, and to harm no man." Such unexpected
calmness and fortitude wilted the officer. Another painful pause. What
next? No one knew. The suspense was suddenly broken by a woman who
stepped forth from the midst of the Covenanters. She was alone; her
movements showed decision; her eyes were flashing; her face was flushed
with indignation. She went straight for the officer, seized the bridle
close to the horse's mouth, and wheeled him about, vociferating, "Fye on
ye, man; rye on ye; the vengeance of God will overtake you for marring
so good a work." The officer was dazed as by an exploding shell. The
woman was his own sister. He was crest-fallen, and withdrew the
dragoons, while the people went home unharmed.
[Illustration: BATTLE OF DRUMCLOG.
The battle of Drumclog was fought on Sabbath, June 1, 1679 Claverhouse
with 240 dragoons attempted to break up a Conventicle near Loudon-hill
He was met by 250 Covenanters under Hamilton, and put to rout, leaving
20 dead on the field. The Covenanters had 1 killed and 5 wounded.]
One of these armed Field-meetings was held at Drumclog. It was a sweet
summer Sabbath, June 1, 1679. The Covenanters had come in large numbers
They covered the green sward, sitting among clumps of moss and heather.
They were far from the abode of man; nothing there to break the solemn
stillness of the Lord's day, except the notes of the heather-cock and
the plover. Loudon-hill stood near like a mighty champion. The air
breathed softly across the field, and the sky bent silently over the
worshipers; the hearts of the people were lifted up in sweet Psalms that
echoed over the hills, and a serene joy filled all The Holy Spirit came
mightily upon the people; the Lord was among them. Thomas Douglas was
the minister. He was one of the three mighties, who afterward issued the
Sanquhar Declaration disowning King Charles II. as a tyrant. The sermon
was half finished when a signal shot was heard. Mr. Douglas immediately
closed the Bible, saying, "You have the theory; now for the practice."
250 resolute men hastily sprang to their feet, lined up, and marched off
to meet Claverhouse who was coming with 240 dragoons. The Covenanters
halted on an elevation to await the attack. While waiting they sang the
76th Psalm to the tune of "Martyrs." The Psalm was very appropriate;
well fitted to arouse the military spirit:
"In Judah's land God is well known,
His name's in Israel great;
In Salem is His tabernacle,
In Zion is His seat."
The troops galloped forward and fired. Their fire drew a vigorous
response. The Covenanters aimed with deadly precision; the fighting was
desperate; hand-to-hand encounters were frequent. The troops broke and
fled, leaving 20 dead on the field. The Covenanters had 1 killed and 5
mortally wounded. Hamilton, Hackston, Paton, Balfour, Cleeland, and Hall
were the noble captains that won the day in the name of the Lord of
hosts.
These fighting Covenanters, who could fight as well as pray, have won
for their posterity the privilege of worshiping God in peace. There is
nothing now to hurt or annoy in God's mountain. How punctual, diligent,
and appreciative ought we to be in the service of our Lord Jesus Christ!
* * * * *
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
1. What was the double effect of the Indulgence?
2. What new effort to suppress the Conventicles?
3. Give the character of the Highland host.
4. How did the Covenanters prepare for self-defense?
5. Describe the Conventicle at the Lomond-hills; Lillies-leaf moor;
Drumclog.
6. Who were the Covenanted captains at Drumclog?
7. How should we appreciate peaceful worship?
XXXIII.
A MASSACRE.--A.D. 1679.
The victory at Drumclog was followed up by the Covenanters with vigor.
Claverhouse, with his broken ranks, was hotly pursued. He fled from the
field on a wounded horse; nor did he halt till he reached Glasgow, 25
miles away. The pursuers followed him half the distance. He began that
Sabbath with the beat of drums, and ended it with defeat and shame.
Next morning these Covenanters had doubled their number; 500 men stood
harnessed for war, determined to overtake the foe, renew the fight, and
win other victories. That forenoon, with Hamilton in command, they
boldly dashed into Glasgow to strike the broken forces of Claverhouse;
but they were repulsed. They retired to an encampment much dispirited.
As was usual with the Covenanters, they began to enquire into the moral
cause of this reverse. They felt that God for some reason was
displeased. The investigation revealed the fact, that Thomas Weir, who
had joined them with 140 horsemen, had been a dragoon in Dalziel's
ranks at Rullion Green, where the Covenanters were defeated.
A committee was appointed to wait on Weir and investigate his case. They
were roughly received. He gave no satisfaction for having been on the
enemy's side on the former occasion. The Covenanters were quick to reach
Bible conclusions and at once classed him with Achan who in the days of
Joshua brought defeat upon Israel. Weir with his detachment was
summarily dismissed. A resolution was then adopted that none, who had
forsaken the Covenant or were guilty of the sins of the times, be
admitted into the army. This was a heroic step, a return to the solid
basis, the old Covenant grounds that had been abandoned in 1650, when
the "Act of Classes" was rescinded, and the doors opened to admit
unfaithful men into places of public trust. Sir Robert Hamilton, at the
head of half a regiment of Covenanters, thus nobly attempted to rebuild
the walls of Zion and set up the gates, even in troublous times. These
were men of God who knew the Lord of hosts, in whose eyes fidelity is
everything and numbers are nothing. They were afraid of nothing but sin.
The martial spirit of the Covenanters rapidly spread during the week;
they flocked to the standard that was again lifted up for CHRIST'S CROWN
AND COVENANT.
Beneath the waving folds of the Blue Banner 5,000 men had rallied when
Saturday's sun was sinking in the west. They had unbounded confidence in
the cause for which they adventured their lives; a holy enthusiasm knit
them together. They were ready for battle "with hand strokes," as they
said to Hackston, one of their noble captains. They had accepted the
responsibility of war and were determined to win or die. The Sabbath was
approaching. They planned to enter into its sweet rest and offer the
appointed worship; then on Monday morning, march upon the enemy and
strike for freedom. But, alas, how quickly fairest prospects may be
covered with darkness! The sun set that evening behind an ugly cloud.
Hamilton had held a council of war on Thursday. He had the benefit of
the wisdom and advice of Donald Cargill, Thomas Douglas, John King, and
John Kidd, ministers eminent among the Covenanters. That Council adopted
a public Declaration, stating their reasons for taking up arms. This
statement embodied:
1. Their purpose to defend the true Reformed religion;
2. Their adherence to the Solemn League and Covenant;
3. An acknowledgment of public sins and duties;
4. A denunciation of Popery, Prelacy, and Erastianism.
The Declaration was proclaimed to the army and published to the world.
On these impregnable grounds the little army was consolidated; they felt
themselves strong in the Lord, and able in His name to fight His
battles.
On Saturday night, when quietness had fallen upon the camp, John Welch
arrived with an additional force of 440 men. This should have been an
inspiration, but it was the very opposite. Welch was a prominent
Conventicle minister; "a diligent, fervent, successful, unwearied
preacher." He was a fearless man; a price equal to $2,000 had been set
upon his head by the government. Such a man should not be disparaged.
Yet, he it was who introduced the confusion of tongues that resulted in
the utter dissipation of the army, and the consequent defeat of the
Covenanters at Bothwell Bridge.
Welch was dissatisfied with the Declaration. It was too forceful for
him. He would tone it down, that it might soothe the king, placate the
Duke of Monmouth, condone the Indulged ministers, and restore Weir to
the ranks. He presented a new Declaration as a substitute for the one
already in force. For two weeks, even till the enemy was lining up for
battle, he agitated the question. The majority was always against him.
At last Hamilton, the commander, contrary to his convictions, yielded
for the sake of peace. He hoped by this means to save his distracted
army, that with solid ranks he might meet the foe and win the fight.
But he sadly mistook policy for wisdom. The battle of Bothwell Bridge
was lost that moment. The battle was lost before a shot was fired.
Hamilton surrendered before he met Monmouth. He had displaced the truth
for the sake of harmony. His flag is already furled, there will be no
fighting now except by the heroes of the van-guard. The Divine favor
that gives victories has been withdrawn. The martial spirit has fled
from the leader and his men are weak as women.
On Sabbath morning, June 22, 1679, the king's army, 15,000 strong, was
massed on the north bank of the Clyde; on the south side, the
Covenanters numbering 5,000 confronted them. The narrow bridge lay
between them. Hackston, Paton, and Balfour, with 300 Covenanters stood
at its south end. The rest of the army was behind them on the moor with
gunshot, standing in eleven solid squares; six banners waved proudly
over them. They had one cannon, two detachments of cavalry, and a body
of skirmishers.
Monmouth orders his troops across the bridge. A solid column pushes
forward broad as the bridge is wide; step follows step in that dread
procession, when lo, a spreading puff of smoke rises on the bank in
front, and a cannon ball is hurled among them, while muskets pour forth
volleys of death. The bridge is strewn with bleeding men and the broken
ranks fall back. The Duke orders another charge. A second column moves
hurriedly over the gory path of their fallen comrades to meet the same
fate. Again and again, the attack and the repulse. They attempt to ford
the river, but Balfour with his sharpshooters hurls them back, while
many a brave man lies down in the cool stream to rise no more. The
bridge drips with blood; the Clyde is crimsoned. After three hours the
Covenanters' ammunition fails, and Monmouth rushes the bridge. The
Covenanters meet them with swords, but are overpowered; they fall back
upon the main body and find it unfit for action.
[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF BOTHWELL BRIDGE.
The Battle of Bothwell Bridge was fought on Sabbath, June 22, 1679 The
king's forces numbering 15,000, under the Duke of Monmouth, assailed
5,000 Covenanters under Robert Hamilton. For three hours Captain
Hackston, with 300 Covenanters, held the bridge. At length their
ammunition was exhausted, and the royal army forced their way across.
The Covenanters took flight and were savagely slaughtered in the
stampede 400 were slain, 1,200 captured, and the rest scattered. A
granite monument has been erected at the bridge in honor of the
Covenanters.]
The royal army was soon across. They line up for the general engagement,
but hesitate to give battle; they have tested the courage of the
Covenanters, and have a dread of results. Hamilton is awaiting his
opportunity. His intention is to rush the enemy into the river. He
orders a forward movement, but the order fails. Wherefore does his army
hesitate? Ah, many of the officers have disappeared. Terror is creeping
over the masses like a death chill. Welch and his friends have left;
Weir with his 140 horsemen takes fright and flees; Hamilton loses his
head and his cavalry stampedes; the army is thrown into confusion; all
is lost. In the fight only 15 were killed; in the flight 400 were
slaughtered.
Monmouth, seeing the panic, ordered a pursuit which resulted in a
running butchery, a horrid massacre. A body of 1,200 surrendered; these
were compelled to lie flat on the ground all night. If in their wounds
or achings they moved head or hand, an admonition was delivered from a
musket. A change of posture, then a sharp crack, a whizzing bullet, a
bleeding victim, a death struggle, a pallid corpse.
That was a sad Sabbath for the Covenanters. Defeat, dishonor, and
distress turned the day into a painful memory. The calamity, doubtless,
arose out of the compromise of Covenanted principles. Welch's wisdom
proved to be foolishness; Weir's strength, weakness; Hamilton's
compliance, defeat.
The sacrifice of truth can never be productive of good. Loss, sorrow,
defeat, and death are in the train of any policy that buries principle.
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
1. How did the Covenanters follow up their victory at Drumclog?
2 What reverse did they suffer?
3 How did they account for it?
4. What was the growth of their army?
6. Who introduced confusion into their ranks?
7. What was the subject of debate?
8. How did it terminate?
9. Describe the forces at the battle of Bothwell Bridge.
10. Describe the battle and its issue.
11. What lesson may we learn from this defeat?
XXXIV.
THE COVENANTERS' PRISONS.--A.D. 1680.
"They who profess Christ in this generation must suffer much or sin
much," exclaimed one of the Scottish martyrs. The enemy was in power and
every means was employed to compel the Covenanters to abandon their
Covenant with God, break relation with Jesus Christ, and thus destroy
their testimony. To accomplish this, the king and his courtiers
subjected these inoffensive people to cruelties most shocking. While
they remained steadfast in their Covenant, the violence increased; when
any of them relaxed, one step of defection necessitated another, till
they stood in the enemy's camp. The same process is ever true.
The massacre at Bothwell Bridge brought upon the Covenanters extreme
distress. Their sufferings hitherto had been as a continual dropping on
a very rainy day, with fitful gusts striking here and there; now a
hurricane sweeps the country, bringing ruin and desolation in its broad
path. Every available force was put in operation for the utter
annihilation of the Covenanters. Their ardor for Christ and His royal
rights must be quenched in their blood, and their testimony to the truth
must be silenced. The king, the courts, the army, the bishops--all were
combined for the overthrow of the Presbyterian system of faith and the
Covenant of God. Upon the ruins of the temple of liberty, erected by the
Reformers, King Charles had determined to build his castle of absolute
despotism. He knew that the glory of Christ's supremacy would never fade
out of the skies of Scotland, while Covenanters preached, prayed, and
sang Psalms; nor would his despotism flourish while there were
Covenanters to challenge his impious claim of authority over the Church,
and iniquitous attempt to rule man's conscience. Hence the desperate
attempt to overawe and suppress them.
After the battle of Bothwell Bridge, the first stroke of excessive
cruelty fell upon the 1,200 prisoners who had surrendered on the field.
They lay all night upon the cold ground huddled together like sheep,
surrounded by a strong guard. It was a night of horror. The sentinels
watched every motion, and shot at any hand or head that dared to stir.
In the morning they were marched from their mossy bivouac, leaving the
green field dotted with crimson pools, and strewn with the dead who had
received fatal shots; there they lay in garments rolled in blood.
The prisoners were tied together, two and two, and driven to Edinburgh,
as cattle to the slaughter. The journey was dreary, during which they
suffered from hunger, weariness, cruel mockings, and barbarous
treatment. In the Greyfriars' churchyard, there yet remains the small
enclosure, into which these prisoners were driven like so many dumb
animals. Here they were kept to await their sentence. Twelve hundred
men, with scarcely comfortable standing room, without decent clothing,
without sanitary accommodations, without proper food, without shelter,
detained for months within these stone walls under a merciless
guard--who can conceive of their sufferings? They had been stripped, all
but naked; the hard ground was their bed; the sky was their roof; they
were exposed to the heat of day, and the chill of night; the rains of
July drenched them; the snows of November blanketed them.
During these wearisome months the number of prisoners constantly grew
less, and mostly by melancholy means. Some of them subscribed a bond
confessing themselves to be rebels and promising unconditional obedience
to the king. The hardships of their condition, the threats against their
lives, and the entreaties of relatives overpowered conscience. They were
released only to be reproached, distressed, tormented, and pillaged at
home, by the soldiers who overran the country. Their unholy bond
sacrificed their peace with God, and brought no protection from man.
Such is the effect of every compromise of God's people with the world.
Disease also reduced the number. Sickness arising from exposure,
neglect, and ill fare, wrought havoc with their lives. The living
watched carefully over their dying companions, as they lay on the cold
hard ground, destitute of every earthly cordial and comfort. But the
Balm of Gilead they had in plenty; the consolations of God were
abundant; the promises distilled sweetness upon their lips; prayers
filled the place with incense; the Psalms were as the music of heaven in
their ears; the gates of glory opened wide for the dying; pain, sorrow,
and darkness vanished from the soul, as it went forth from the earthly
tabernacle to enter into the Eternal City.
Quite a few were condemned to death and executed on the scaffold.
Prominent among these, were John Kid and John King, two ministers of
Christ. They received their sentence with serenity and went hand in
hand, to the place of execution. Their conversation was cheerful. Their
outlook was far beyond the scaffold, and the city towers, and the high
hills outlined on the sky, and even beyond the glowing sun that was then
smiling in the west. What magnificent scenery their eyes must have
rested upon, as they now had come to Mount Zion, the city of the living
God, the innumerable company of angels, the spirits of just men made
perfect! Already in triumphant faith they were walking the golden
streets, with palms in their hands crowns on their heads, and songs in
their hearts. Kid was a witty man, usually overflowing with innocent
mirth; even in sight of the gallows his humor was insuppressible.
Looking into King's face he made a pun on their own names, saying, "I
have often heard and read of a kid sacrificed, but I seldom or never
heard of a king made a sacrifice."
Four hundred of these Covenanters remained unmoved by threats, promises,
sufferings, or protracted hardships. The painful weeks and months might
wear them out, but they continued firm in the faith and testimony,
resolved to honor their Lord and His Covenant while they had breath.
They remembered the promise, "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will
give thee a crown of life." They were of the unbending type.
The king's council, hopeless in attempting to bring them to terms,
resolved to finish the irksome task by shipping all to distant lands.
They placed 243 on a small sail-ship, which was tossed on the Atlantic
ocean until engulfed amidst the waves. The remainder were never
transported.
Many Covenanters were confined in places even more intolerable than
this. Dunnottar Castle became one of these notable spots. The castle
stands on a rock that projects into the sea. Here still exists a deep
dark room, called the "Whigs' Vault," where 167 Covenanters were crowded
together. Forty-five of these were women. The room is 56 feet long, 16
wide, and 12 high, having two small windows. This outrageous disregard
for sex, decency, health, and every natural right, aroused even the
indignation of the governor's wife, at whose request the women, after
some days, were removed to another vault. The prisoners suffered the
horrors of these dark foul pits three months. But the Lord Jesus Christ
did not forsake them; they were sustained by His abundant grace. He
heard their mournful cries and upheld their faith. Some breathed out
their lives on the hard stone floor, with no pillow on which to rest
their aching heads. Blessed termination of the horrid cruelty! Even
there the "pearl gate" opened wide, and the ransomed soul arose in
power, and walked forth into the marvelous light of the world above.
They who survived death were offered liberty on condition of taking the
king's oath, and acknowledging his supremacy over Church and conscience.
They persistently refused to do this. How great the loyalty of these men
and women to the Lord Jesus Christ! Imprisonment with all its bitterness
was sweeter to them than liberty with a defiled conscience.
[Illustration: DUNNOTTAR CASTLE.
The castle rock projects into the sea, on the east coast of Scotland,
and rises with rugged sides out of the water to the height of 160 feet.
It is connected with the mainland by a narrow neck. Here is the "Whigs'
Vault," a dismal underground room, hewn out of the rock, where many
Covenanters suffered imprisonment.]
The Bass Rock, too, was a penitentiary for the Covenanters. This is a
lofty green rock arising boldly out of the sea near Edinburgh, having
steep rugged sides, being accessible only at one point. Thither they
brought, in the latter years of the persecution, the overflow of
prisoners after the inland jails had been crowded. The rock is very
desolate. This was the Covenanters' Patmos. Here Alexander Peden, John
Blackader, and many others spent months and years, walking round and
round over the storm-battered cliffs, or sitting on the ledges looking
landward thinking of the desolated home, the broken family, the wasted
Church, and the guilty land. When the waves dashed against the rock, and
the breakers leaped high; when storms darkened the land, and billows
whitened the sea; when nothing was heard but the noise of the waters,
the roar of the tempest, and the scream of the sea-fowl, even then was
the Holy Spirit there to illuminate these prisoners of hope. They held
communion with God; visions of glory lighted up their dreary home; they
moved amidst the scenery of heaven; the Bass rock was peopled with
angels. Blackader has left on record some rich experiences he there
enjoyed.
We are free to worship God according to conscience and the Word. But let
us not forget that our liberty is the blossom, and our privileges the
fruit, of the rough black root of persecution suffered by our
forefathers. Had they not been faithful, we would have had to fight the
battles they fought, and suffer as they suffered, or have perished in
darkness. Will not we, for the sake of coming generations, be likewise
faithful? The Lord Jesus grant us strength and success.
* * * * *
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
1. What was done with, the prisoners taken at Bothwell Bridge?
2. How did they suffer in Edinburgh?
3. Describe their prison, and their hardships.
4. What two of their ministers were executed?
5. Describe Dunnottar Castle.
7. Describe the Bass Rock.
8. For what was it used in those times?
9. How may we meet the obligations descending from the fathers?
XXXV.
DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE.--A.D. 1680.
The persecution of the Covenanters under King Charles II. had now
continued twenty years. These were years of slaughter, and the horrors
were still deepening.
The battle of Bothwell Bridge was followed by a climax of suffering and
sacrifice. The wrath of the king, vented through the dragoons, fell upon
every district where the Covenanters were located and followed them into
their hiding-places. They were required to take the oath of loyalty, or
suffer the direful consequence. Some were haled to the judges to be
sentenced, others were shot like game where they were found. Like a fire
that breaks out in a city and mercilessly devours while the flames find
fuel, so this fire seemed destined to spread and devour till the last
drop of Covenanted blood would sizzle on the coals.
The persecutors were in degree successful. Four hundred ministers, in
1662, had refused to receive orders from the king for the exercise of
their ministry; they gave up home and all its comforts, rather than
admit the king's claim of supremacy over the Church of Christ. These
were now reduced to less than one hundred. Some were martyred, some were
banished, some had died of old age and some of exposure; but many, if
not most, had been constrained to accept the Indulgence and were gone
back home. Their first love had been chilled by the wintry blasts. Their
zeal for the Lord Jesus and His testimony abated as the hardships
increased. Worn with suffering, emaciated with hunger, exposed to
danger, grey with sorrows, and the darkness deepening with no relief in
prospect, they weakened and accepted the terms of a false peace. But let
them not be judged with harshness. Our Lord has said of such, "The
spirit truly is ready, but the flesh is weak." The struggle lasted eight
more years, during which time there were sixty ministers standing by
their Covenant instead of four hundred, and even these sixty, almost to
a man, counted it expedient to suspend their testimony and keep silence.
The real Covenanters however were not conquered. Death had slain
thousands, and defection tens of thousands, yet the faithful had not
lost heart. There was still a vigorous force of loyal men and women,
earnest quiet people, who stood fearlessly by the Covenant and Testimony
of Jesus Christ. They were called, "The remnant." With these the Holy
Spirit was pleased to clothe Himself, for the good fight of faith which
they continued with unabated ardor. They stepped into the firing line
where the shock of war was heaviest, and became the aggressive party,
demanding from the king their Covenanted rights. The Lord was ever with
them; they heard Him saying, "Be of good cheer; I have overcome the
world." Their zeal and energy were but the crested waves of Omnipotence,
the Lord's own strength surging along the strand of time, and dashing
against the rocks of wickedness and misrule--waves of Divine energy that
must yet overflow every land, overcome the whole world, and cover the
earth with glory, as the waters cover the sea.
[Illustration: CLAVERHOUSE.
Claverhouse was a captain of dragoons, who pursued the Covenanters and
slaughtered them with savage atrocity. He outlived the persecution, but
was killed the next year, 1689, at the battle of Killiecrankie, fighting
against the accession of the Prince of Orange. "A shot in the left eye"
sent the reeking soul into the presence of God, whom he, in aweful
blasphemy, had promised to take into his own hands. He died at the age
of forty-six.]
These strong-spirited, unbending Covenanters believed that the time had
now come for a forward movement, and they accepted the task as from the
Lord. They were not merely unconquerable; they were determined to
conquer. At the beginning of the persecution they were passive, meekly
submitting to reproach, spoilation, imprisonment, and death, for
Christ's sake. This continued till patience was exhausted.
Their second attitude was that of self-defence. Oppression maketh a wise
man mad. The people came armed to the Conventicles, and with swords and
muskets met the troops that attacked the meetings. These acts of
self-defence developed into two distinct efforts to raise an army for
the redress of grievances. All this time the Covenanters recognized
Charles II. as their king.
The third attitude was that of revolution. They now had reached this
point. They challenge the king's right to reign. They resolve to take
the crown from his head, and place it upon the brow of a man worthy of
the honor, one who "feared God, and hated covetousness." What a daring
task! what courage exhibited by these men! what unbounded confidence in
the righteousness of their cause as they against all odds, all earthly
advantages, and all human wisdom, proclaim the king's forfeiture of the
throne, and face the consequences of that proclamation!
This was a forlorn battle. The distant outlook was hopeful and the final
success was assured; but the present struggle must be sanguinary and the
sacrifice of life dreadful. Every man that enlists in the army at this
stage must expect to die on the field. This bold position of the
Covenanters will surely be met by all the powers of darkness that can be
massed against them. They now unfurl the Banner for Christ's Crown and
Covenant on the very highest grounds; the persecution will therefore be
waged, if possible, with tenfold greater fierceness. The king with all
his engines of destruction will fight them most desperately; Satan with
all his hosts will assail them ferociously. How can the noble band
escape annihilation?
But who will lead the Covenanters in such a struggle? Who will command
these "little flocks of kids," when the hosts of Syria fill all the
country round about? Where are the ministers now, when the trumpet blast
proclaims a revolutionary war against the king? While the dread notes
echo from mountain to mountain, the most of them are in caves,
hidden--like Obadiah's prophets. Three, only three, step forward. These
lions of the Covenant are Cameron, Cargill, and Douglass. They grasp the
old battle-banner, and carrying it to the new position call upon the
Covenanted sons of freedom to rally under its floating folds. The
"remnant" gave a noble response.
This self-sacrificing band was merely the advance guard of a great army
that was now mustering in the providence of God for the restoration of
civil and religious liberty. Little did they expect to win under
existing conditions, but they could hold the hordes of darkness back,
till the Lord Jesus would bring up His mighty forces for the decisive
battle. They could throw themselves upon the enemy, and with the impact
stay their progress. They laid down principles and began action that
eight years later resulted in the Revolution under the Prince of Orange.
Cameron, Cargill, and Douglass began the Revolution, and William, Prince
of Orange, finished it.
The Covenanters engaged in this forward movement were henceforth called
Cameronians. Richard Cameron was the leader. On the first anniversary of
the battle of Bothwell Bridge, June 22, 1680, he with 21 mounted men
rode into the quiet town of Sanquhar. They came in a martial spirit;
each horse carried a Christian swordsman; they were armed for war.
Reaching the heart of the town, they dismounted and reverently offered
prayer. They then read aloud a Declaration of War against King Charles.
This they nailed to the post at the crossroads. What a heroic
celebration of the first anniversary of their greatest defeat! The paper
carried this declaration:
"We do disown Charles Stuart as having any right, title to, or interest
in, the crown of Scotland for government.
"We, being under the Standard of our Lord Jesus Christ, do declare a war
with such a tyrant and usurper, and all the men of his practices as
enemies to our Lord Jesus Christ and His cause and Covenants."
The men then quietly rode away, while the people read the Declaration
with mingled joy and terror. The lions roared on the hills of Sanquhar,
and the king's throne trembled; within a few years the monarch and his
dynasty had disappeared from the earth.
These Covenanters prepared also another declaration which was called
the Queensferry Paper. It contained the following statement of the
principles, for which they contended:
"The avowal of the Scriptures as the only rule of faith and action;
"The promotion of the Kingdom of God by every possible and lawful
method;
"Adherence to the Covenanted Reformation of the Presbyterian Church;
"The disowning of all authority which opposes the Word of God!"
With deathless bravery, they added the following:
"We bind and oblige ourselves to defend ourselves and one another, in
the worship of God and in our natural, civil, and divine rights, till we
shall overcome, or send them down under debate to prosperity, that they
may begin where we end."
The fathers have finished their work. They nobly sustained the cause in
their day; they gave their blood freely for its success; but they were
not permitted to see the ultimate victory. The Covenant principles for
which they contended are the hope of the world. The Covenant holds forth
the highest standard for the Church and the nation. This standard must
be reached, or prophecy must fail. The struggle has descended upon us in
"debate." Will we be true to the task laid on us by the fathers, who
unfalteringly carried the Banner of the Covenant amid fiercest battles?
Will we be a strong link, or will we be a broken link, connecting the
worthy past with the golden future? Which?
* * * * *
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
1. How did the true Covenanters become diminished?
2. With what spirit did the "remnant" sustain their trials?
3. What successive attitudes toward the king did they assume?
4. When did they proclaim a revolutionary war against the king?
5. Who were their leaders?
6. Where was the declaration of war issued?
7. What was the nature of the Queensferry declaration?
8. Under what obligations were future generations placed?
10. What task here has fallen to us?
XXXVI.
AYRSMOSS.--A.D. 1680.
Ayrsmoss is a household word among Covenanters. Here is one of the
numerous spots where temporary defeat has been transformed into
permanent glory. A granite monument with suitable inscription marks the
place and honors the fallen heroes. This is the field where Richard
Cameron with a hardy group of Covenanters met the foe, and fought the
first fight of Scotland's Revolutionary war against King Charles II.
Ayrsmoss lies in the heart of a wide solitude. The eye takes in a wild,
broken surface in all directions. Loneliness broods in the very air. The
heart grows heavy and the eyes dreamy, while we sit on a tuft of rushes
and gaze at the monument that bears the names of the worthy dead.
Reverie readily rehabilitates the landscape, and, in vision, the field
is covered again with the horrors of the engagement. The horsemen are
dashing upon each other, the air is shattered with the discharge of
guns, swords are flashing in the evening sunlight, men are falling,
blood is flowing, the Covenanters are fleeing, and--Cameron lies on the
field dead.
Richard Cameron had sounded the keynote of freedom, that reverberated
all over Scotland, and down into England, and over into Holland, and at
length struck the ears of William, Prince of Orange. Cameron and his
Covenanted associates, having disowned the authority of King Charles,
disputed by force of arms his right to reign. They had preferred three
charges against him. These were:
(1) Perjury; (2) Usurpation; (3) Tyranny.
The king had grossly violated the Covenant to which he had given his
oath. The Covenant was the Scottish Constitution of government, and the
wilful subversion of it was treason.
He had usurped authority over the Church, posing in the prerogatives of
the Lord Jesus Christ and trampling on the people's rights in the
worship of God.
He had impoverished, imprisoned, exiled, and even slaughtered his
subjects in great numbers, without other fault than their refusal to
submit conscience to his tyrannic will.
Therefore, as perjurer, usurper, and tyrant, he must face the
arbitrament of war. The proclamation has been published; the dauntless
sons of the Covenant have forced the issue. In the name of the Lord of
hosts they have unfurled the Banner for Christ's Crown and Covenant. It
may often be torn with bullets and stained with blood, but it will never
be folded till the cause of Christ and freedom prevail. These
Covenanters have resolved "to continue the struggle till they overcome,
or hand it down to posterity, that each generation may begin where the
last ended." Such was the solemn bond that bound these Covenanters by
their own voluntary action one to another, and all to God and freedom in
the worship of God through Jesus Christ. It also joined all coming
generations into an indivisible and invincible solidarity for the
defence of liberty, the triumph of righteousness, and the glory of
Christ in His Church.
The Declaration of war had been proclaimed in Sanquhar. There Cameron
with his band of twenty-one men appealed to the God of battles and
grasped the sword. They stood a few moments gazing solemnly at their
Declaration, now nailed to a post and speaking to the nation. Holding
their horses by the bridle, they tarried long enough to sing a Psalm to
the God of nations, then mounted. Ere the tramp of their steeds had died
away on the streets of Sanquhar, the news of the daring deed was
spreading over the hills. The royal army, more than 10,000 strong, was
quickly on the track of these daring revolutionists.
Cameron quailed not at the consequences of that day's work. His soul
was on fire for the honor of the Lord Jesus Christ. He had expressed a
desire to die fighting against the avowed enemies of his Lord. He never
doubted the final issue; victory was sure in the end, whatever might be
the reverses at the beginning and the losses by the way. "LET CHRIST
REIGN," he exclaimed with prophetic fire; "LET CHRIST REIGN, is a
standard that shall yet overthrow all the thrones of Europe;" and he
spoke as if his flashing eyes saw the thrones reel, and his quick ears
heard the crash of their fall.
One brief month lay between Sanquhar and Ayrsmoss. Cameron and his
little company moved cautiously over the desolate places. They roamed
across the dreary moorlands, slept amidst the flowering heather, and
pillowed their weary heads on the moss. The cold ground was their
mattress; the chilling mist was their covering; the arching sky was
their roof; the silent stars were their sentinels; the Lord God Almighty
was their keeper. Thus they awaited the day of battle. Cameron betimes
enjoyed the hospitality of friends who risked their lives in receiving
him under their roof.
July 22, 1680, was the eventful day. The little band had strolled into
the heart of this waste moor. Here were threescore valiant men, of the
valiant of Israel. "They all held swords, being expert in war: every man
had his sword upon his thigh, because of fear in the night." The actual
number was sixty-three, twenty-three men were mounted. They hung about
Cameron who never wearied in preaching Christ to their hungry souls.
This day his voice was unusually solemn. He had an inward assurance that
the sun, which was now flooding the landscape with glory and taking the
chill of the night out of his veins, would glance its setting rays upon
his blood and theirs, poured out upon that field. It was now 4 o'clock;
the men were resting on the little knolls that studded the moor; their
horses were grazing by their side; all eyes were often scanning the
horizon; any minute danger might loom up.
"They come!" cried one who saw a troop verging on the moor. In a moment
the sixty-three were on their feet; the horses were mounted and every
man drew his weapon. Captain Hackston, a veteran in the Covenanted
cause, took command. Cameron offered a prayer; his recorded prayer was
not a plea for safety nor for victory, but that God would "spare the
green and take the ripe." They chose their ground, and waited the coming
of Captain Bruce with 120 troopers. With grim determination they watched
the dragoons cover the ground. Every man was ready, every nerve was
steady. The Covenanters had the courage of conscience; they knew they
were in the right; their hearts sustained them; their Covenant
reinforced them; they were assured of ultimate success. They will
certainly achieve all that is best for this time, and for this occasion.
Even a crushing defeat will be a moral victory. The outcome will be
according to the will of God, and a necessary event in the progress of
Christ's kingdom.
[Illustration: MONUMENT AT AYRSMOSS.
This monument marks the grave of Richard Cameron and eight other
Covenanters, who fell on this moorland fighting for religious liberty.
The place is reached by passing from the road over a wide mossy field.
The solitude is oppressive with solemn tragic memories. These heroes
were martyrs who faithfully sealed their testimony with their blood.
This battle was fought on July 22, 1680.]
These men were sent forward, to stand on the firing line, and show the
spirit, the courage, and the faith of the soldiers of Christ; behind
them the spiritual world was filled with the armies of God. His
twenty-thousand chariots and thousands of angels, were coming up for the
successive engagements, that will yet fill the world with righteousness
and the heavens with praise.
Bruce and his troop were received with a deadly volley; many of their
saddles were emptied. Hackston led his horsemen in a desperate charge;
he almost split the enemy's force in two; but his men being few, the
dragoons enveloped him. His horse bogged; he dismounted, and used his
sword with fearful effect. At last he fell, bleeding from many wounds.
The Covenanters were overwhelmed and driven from the field. Nine lay
dead, among whom was Richard Cameron. Twenty-six were killed on the
other side, so steady the nerve and deliberate the aim of the
Covenanters in the face of crushing odds. The war for freedom was now
on; the first blood was shed and had consecrated Ayrsmoss. But the prize
of liberty was of high value; other fields must yet be crimsoned with
streams flowing from many a heart.
Our enjoyment of civil and religious liberty is so constant and ordinary
that we scarcely wait a moment to think of the original cost. What pangs
of sorrow, what years of hardships, what streams of blood our fathers
paid for the inheritance of truth and freedom they have left their
children! Let us be careful to appreciate the blood-bought blessings
lest they flee away.
* * * * *
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
1. What monument has been erected at Ayrsmoss?
2. What previous proclamation occasioned this battle?
3. What charges did the Covenanters prefer against the king?
4. How long after the declaration till this fight occurred?
5. How did Cameron and his associates employ their time?
6. Who appeared in search of them?
7. How many men were on each side?
8. Who won the battle?
9. How account for God's people suffering defeat?
10. What was the cost of the liberty we enjoy?
11. How should we guard it for other generations?
XXXVII.
THE CAMERONIANS.--A.D. 1681.
Richard Cameron had fallen in the battle at Ayrsmoss; but the cause had
not failed, nor would he be forgotten. "The righteous shall be in
everlasting remembrance." His years were brief, but his work was great.
He was fresh and hearty, in the very prime of his life when he met
death. The sun had only reached the meridian of his sky. While his
powers were glowing with divine energy, and his ministry was making the
deepest impression, the Lord called him home to glory. The translation
from earth to heaven was sudden and sublime. One of the poets has
painted his own conception of the event in a brilliant poem, entitled,
"The Cameronian's Dream." That noble life, so full of zeal, action, and
power, left a lasting imprint on the Church of the Covenanters. So
mighty was his influence that the people who stood strictly to the
Covenant were henceforth called Cameronians.
The field of Ayrsmoss presented a sad sight that evening. The departing
day may have flung over it a glowing sunset, but nothing could relieve
the gloom. The light was fading as the dragoons left, taking with them
Captain Hackston and a few other bleeding prisoners. Night settled
softly upon the moorland; the shout of the captains had given place to
the stillness of death. Nine noble defenders of the Covenant lay
pulseless in the dewy grass. The friends, soon as safety permitted, came
and, gathering the bodies together, solemnly and sadly buried them in
one broad grave. The present monument marks the spot where the precious
dust awaits the resurrection.
The head and hands of Cameron were cut off and carried in ignoble
triumph through the streets of Edinburgh. The head was elevated on the
point of a spear and borne in front of the prisoners to the city jail.
Cameron's father was a prisoner there at that time. The head and hands
were presented to him, with the sneering question, "Do you know them?"
The aweful shock quickly gave place to a gush of fatherly affection. The
blood, the pallor, even the stare of the lifeless face, seemed to
disappear in the heart-kindlings of the aged parent; to him the
countenance was sweet as ever, the eyes were beaming, the lips were
vocal, the brow was wreathed with holy dignity. A thousand tender scenes
of the past must have rushed in upon the soul of the agitated father. He
took up the cold pieces, dearer to him than his own flesh and, while
tears flowed plentifully, kissed them, saying, "I know them; they are my
son's; my own dear son's: the Lord can harm neither me nor mine; good is
the will of the Lord."
Cameron lived in the most critical period of the Covenanted cause. His
life of service and sacrifice arose into gigantic strength just when the
Covenanted Reformation seemed to be ready for burial. The floodtide of
Indulgence had almost submerged the testimony of the Covenanters. Many
of the ministers had been caught in that Satanic snare. The remainder
were overawed, or disabled with disease and old age. Yet there was a
host of brave men and honorable women, thousands in number, who without
a leader faced the increasing' fierceness of the persecution, and
continued their testimony for Christ in defiance of the king's wrath.
These were called the Society People, and Cameron during his public
ministry was their standard-bearer.
Cameron and the Society People, afterward known as the Cameronians, have
been severely criticised for their exclusiveness. They refused to hold
fellowship with the Indulged ministers who had assented to the king's
supremacy over the Church, and likewise with the Field-ministers, who
had become mute on the Covenanted testimony. They are often represented
as having been stern, censorious, and uncharitable in the extreme. A
glance at Cameron's commission will show how baseless is the charge.
Richard Cameron received ordination in Holland, four months after the
battle of Bothwell Bridge. The ordination service was very solemn and
touching. The presbytery felt that they were commissioning a servant of
God to do a work that would cost his life. While the ministers rented
their hands on Cameron's head in the act of ordination, he was told by
one of them, that the head whereon their hands were laid would one day
be severed from his body and set up before the sun and moon for public
view. Such was the vision of blood that moved before his eyes during the
eight months of his ministry. At that same time he received also the
exhortation: "Go, Richard; the public Standard of the Gospel is fallen
in Scotland; go home and lift the fallen Standard, and display it
publicly before the world. But before you put your hand to it, go to as
many of the Field-ministers as you can find, and give them your hearty
invitation to go with you."
True to his commission Cameron went. He sought out the Field-ministers.
They now numbered about sixty. These were keeping close to their
hiding-places; their voices scarcely went beyond the mouth of their
caves; they counted their blood more valuable than their testimony for
Christ and His Covenant. Twenty years of unabating hardships had
unnerved them; the late avalanche of the king's wrath had overwhelmed
them; they were mostly mute in witnessing for Christ, as the rocks
behind which they were hiding.
Of the sixty ministers Cameron found only two who were willing to stand
with him and hold up the Banner of the Covenant before the eyes of the
nation. One of these, Thomas Douglas, quickly disappeared leaving
Cameron and Cargill alone to lead the Covenanted people of God in the
fight that was growing harder every day. These two dauntless ministers
of Christ accepted the responsibility, knowing too well the price to be
paid was their own blood. And they have been censured for their
exclusiveness.
Twenty years previous, the Covenanted ministers numbered one thousand.
More than half of these had violated the Covenant by a resolution in
1650, to open the offices of public trust to men without moral
qualification. Will the minority be censured for not following them? In
1662, the ministerial brotherhood was again rent in twain by the king's
decree requiring them to submit, or quit the manse. Four hundred refused
to comply. Will they be censured for withdrawing from their brethren who
remained? In later years the Indulgences followed, one after another,
capturing all except sixty. Will the sixty be censured for not following
the others in submitting to the king's supremacy over the Church? And
now all but two suspend the public testimony for Christ's crown. Will
the two be censured for separating from the sixty, and holding forth the
Banner of Christ?
[Illustration: FOUR YOUNG COVENANTERS DISCOVERED
These young men had left their homes to save their lives. They lived
among the hills, hid in the caves, slept on the ground, had little to
eat, and were always in danger. They evidently had come here to sun
themselves after a chilly night, and to comfort one another in Jesus
Christ. They were found and sentenced to be shot. They said to their
accusers, "If we had a hundred lives, we would willingly quit them all,
for the truth of Christ".]
Cameron and Cargill, with the Society people, stood on a basis separated
from their brethren who had stepped off the basis, and had left them to
struggle alone against mighty odds and fierce enemies, for the
Covenanted Reformation to which all were bound by a solemn oath. These
men, with the Society people at their back, stood by their Covenant and
the oath of God, the others had departed. Censure the Cameronians for
exclusiveness? Rather, be sincere and censure them for not slipping, and
stumbling, and falling away, like their brethren from Covenant
attainments. These worthies stood on the heights from which the others
had departed, and waving the old battle-worn colors of the Covenant
appealed unto them to come up and occupy the ground where they had
formerly stood.
The Cameronians maintained a high position; but it was not chimerical or
theoretical; it was practical and Scriptural; here was solid ground, a
rock-foundation. On it were no sidings, no off-sets, no bogs. The truths
they held were clear, clean-cut, adamantine, foundational, and
unchangeable. Their oath bound them to defend the sovereignty of Christ,
the kingdom of God, and the Reformed religion.
The banner still floats up there in the care of a few successors. Under
the Lord of hosts, the Captain of the Covenant, they continue to this
day without a thought of retreating, and trailing their colors in the
dust. They are confident that Churches and nations will yet reach the
heights of Covenant doctrine and fidelity under Jesus Christ. The bane
of the Churches to-day is the slanting ground, adown which an evil
influence is steadily drawing the people lower and lower. But in the
last days the Holy Spirit will be poured out upon all flesh; then shall
the world have a spiritual resurrection, and a glorious ascension to
Covenant grounds, through the Lord Jesus Christ, "to whom be dominion
and majesty for ever and ever." "The mountain of the Lord's house shall
be established in the top of the mountains; and shall be exalted above
the hills; and all nations shall flow unto it."
* * * * *
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
1. Describe Ayrsmoss on the night after the battle?
2. What did the enemy do with Cameron's body?
3. How did Cameron's life and death impress the Covenanters?
4. Why were the Cameronians called extremists?
5. Were they justifiable in separating from others?
6. Who joined Cameron in carrying out his commission?
7. What is the true position of Covenanters?
8. What is their mission in the world?
XXXVIII.
THE LONE STAR.--A.D. 1681.
Donald Cargill was at this time the only minister of the Society people.
He was the Lone Star appearing in the firmament of the Covenanted
Church. The night was very cloudy. The storm of persecution had darkened
the land; the defection of the Church had deepened the darkness; the
wrath of the Lord, against the persecuting nation and the
Covenant-breaking Church, had covered Scotland with a woeful night. The
stars had disappeared till one alone, a solitary orb, had power
sufficient to pierce the deadly gloom with its lustrous rays.
Donald Cargill was the Elijah of his day, the solitary standard-bearer
of the Covenant after the death of Cameron. Doubtless there were seven
thousand, yea, seven thousand twice told, who had not bowed the knee to
Baal; but they were hidden in caves and in holes of the rocks, waiting
for some terrible display of the power and glory of the Lord. There were
many stars, but the night was too dark for them to shine; also they had
become almost nebulous. Even Alexander Peden, Scotland's fiery prophet,
who never weakened in the Covenant nor waned in his brilliant
career--even he did not identify with the Cameronians in the declaration
of war against King Charles and the demand for his abdication. Cargill
was the lone leader of the dreadless Covenanters in their new and
aggressive movement.
The last years of Cargill were his best, and his last services were his
greatest. He grew like the cedar, increasing in strength, usefulness,
and dignity till cut down by death. His zeal leaped into flames with the
adverse winds: he did his noblest works when he was most sorely pressed.
He conducted divine services even when wounded and bleeding; he carried
the gashes of the sword into the pulpit and the scars of battle down to
the grave. A glance at his wonderful career should be inspiring.
Even in childhood Cargill was noted for prayer. He grew up on a
beautiful farm where the fields dip into the shady valley and ascend the
lofty hills. Rugged nature taught the opening child-life to take on much
beauty, grandeur, and dignity. He loitered often on the confines of the
higher world in his meditations and in prayer. But especially the altar
of worship, the family Bible, the fireside catechising, the stern
discipline, and the solemn Sabbaths moulded the boy and awakened the
powers that distinguished the man. Family religion, which was strict,
solemn, and awe-inspiring made heroes of the men of the Covenant.
Without family religion the children may be expected to become moral
imbeciles and spiritual ciphers.
When Cargill was yet a youth, he was known to spend whole nights in
prayer. What those nights must have been to that young heart! What
unfoldings of the Gospel and of the love of God! What revelations of the
beauties of Christ, the preciousness of His blood, and the treasures of
His Covenant! What insight into the value of the soul and its commission
from God! What views of stewardship, accountability, rewards,
punishments, destiny, eternity! What visions of the kingdom of the Lord
Jesus Christ, His royal rights, His glory and majesty, His jealousy over
the Church, His indignation against evil, His vindication of right! What
those nights of prayer must have been to that boyish heart! The Holy
Spirit came down upon the tender suppliant; the glory of the Lord shone
round about him; the heavens bent and burst with blessings above his
head; he made many an incursion into the upper world. What a wonderful
life we may expect to arise out of a beginning like this! Look out for
the boy that spends whole nights in prayer, or even whole hours talking
with God! Assuredly the outcome will be amazing.
Courage was prominent among the qualities that brought Cargill to the
front and made him one of Scotland's many mighties. He was afraid of
nothing except God's displeasure. His towering intellect, polished with
education, instructed in the Bible, and irradiant with the Holy Spirit,
gave him a wide horizon. He made the throne of the Lord Jesus Christ his
viewpoint, and therefore saw things in their true relation. He had a
strong, spiritual grasp of the truths of Christ and His universal
dominion. He saw Jesus crowned with many crowns; the Church united to
Christ in marriage; and all the universe subject to Christ for the
Church's sake. Cargill's clear and comprehensive view of Christ and His
universal dominion enabled him to take the right side in the great
struggle that was then shaking Scotland's foundations. He wisely chose
the strong side. He cast his lot in with the poor "remnant," who were
hunted, captured, and executed as fast as the bloodhounds of King
Charles could do their cruel work. Most men called this the weak side,
but Cargill's eyes took in the spiritual world. He gazed upon the
infinite power of God, the omnipotence of truth, the armies of heaven.
He knew that all the forces of righteousness were moving forward in
matchless harmony in support of the "remnant" who kept faith with the
Lord Jesus Christ. In the consciousness of this almighty strength, which
was at his back, how could he be afraid?
Cargill accepted the office of the Gospel ministry with a deep sense of
unworthiness. When urged to enter the ministry he hesitated and spent a
day in fasting and prayer to discover the mind of the Lord. God spoke to
him by sending into his heart the irresistible command: "Son of man, eat
this roll, and go speak unto the house of Israel." He took this to be
the answer, as these words rang in his ears day and night. He hesitated
no longer; from that time he was consecrated to the work of the Gospel,
and his zeal made him a bright target for the foe.
His regular service on one occasion fell on the anniversary of the
king's restoration to the throne. The house was crowded; the country was
rejoicing with the king, though he had already launched upon the crimson
tide of persecution. Casting a glance over the audience and judging that
many had come to do the king honor, his soul flamed into indignation,
and his eyes flashed with scorn for the crowned murderer. "We are not
here," said he, "to keep this day as others keep it. We thought once to
bless the day when the king came home again, but now we have reason to
curse it. If any of you have come to solemnize this day, we desire you
to remove." Then arising into passionate vehemence, he cried, "Woe, woe,
woe unto the king! His name shall be a stench while the world stands,
for treachery, tyranny, and lechery." From that day they sought his
life to take it away; yet he lived and preached twenty more years.
[Illustration: DONALD CARGILL.
Donald Cargill received the martyr's crown in 1681, after passing
through 20 years of persecution. He died on the scaffold at the age of
71. Standing beneath the rope he exclaimed, "This is the sweetest and
most glorious day that ever mine eyes did see." He sang Psalm 118, from
the 16th verse. Then crying out in a rapture of joy, "Welcome, Father,
Son, and Holy Ghost, into Thy hands I commit my spirit," he entered
within the veil.]
Cargill's life was tossed about on roughest waves. He made many narrow
escapes. Near his early home lies a deep valley, adown which a mountain
stream rushes within a rock-rimmed channel, churning itself into milky
whiteness. On one occasion he was pursued by soldiers all the way from
Dundee, nine miles distant. He fled down the steep cliff and leaped the
chasm. The soldiers following him came to the spot but dared not to
jump. Cargill walked up the opposite embankment and escaped. Being
reminded one day that he had made a good leap he humorously replied,
"Yes, but I had a good run before the leap."
At another time he saw a group of soldiers approaching in search of him.
He coolly walked forward and, taking a square look at them, went on.
They not knowing him personally never once thought that a man of such an
airy countenance could be the one for whom they were searching. At
Queensferry the house still stands where he and Captain Hall were
arrested. The brave Captain threw himself between Cargill and the
officer. The struggle was a tough one; Hall was mortally wounded;
Cargill, too, was much hurt but escaped. But this did not prevent him
from keeping his engagement at a Conventicle; he preached in his wounds.
Nothing but death seemed able to check this man of God in the work of
the Gospel. His greatest service however is yet to be related.
Have we incorporated the element of Divine strength into our lives? Do
we make the throne of Jesus our viewpoint, from whence we see all things
related to Him, and through Him to each other? Do we stand for the
right, however weak that side may seem, knowing that all the powers that
be of God are on that side? The times call for heroic lives, men who
will not flinch under reproach, nor apologize for their convictions; men
who will support the truth at any cost, and denounce sin at every
hazard. Can the Church now furnish such men?
* * * * *
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
1. Who succeeded Cameron as leader of the Society people?
2. Tell something about Cargill's early life.
3. How was he influenced to become a minister?
4. What objection had he to the king's anniversary?
5. What dangers did he meet?
6. How did he persist in the work of the Gospel?
7. Describe the strong side of every good cause.
XXXIX.
AN EXTRAORDINARY SERVICE.--A.D. 1681.
The severity of the persecution had now driven the Conventicles into the
most solitary places. Very few ministers at this period ventured, under
any circumstances, to preach at the Field-meetings. Cargill survived
Cameron a little more than one year. They had been accustomed to attend
these meetings together; their fellowship in the ministry of Christ was
a mutual joy. They were equally yoked and made a strong team. Where the
two preached the people had a great feast. But death had separated them;
Cargill keenly felt the bereavement. He was thereafter like a dove
mourning the loss of its mate. He preached a touching sermon on the
Sabbath after Cameron's death, taking his text from King David's elegy
over the death of Abner: "There is a prince and a great man fallen this
day in Israel."
Cargill was now seventy years old; grey, worn, and weakened with the
terrible experiences that had crowded into his persecuted life. His last
year was a fitting climax, the best of all his years in the Lord's
service. The notes of his trumpet were always vigorous and decisive;
one blast, however, was especially loud, long, and clear, the like of
which the world had never heard.
This preacher of righteousness denounced sin with unsparing keenness. He
was no respecter of persons; the king got his share of reproof and
admonition, equally with the lowliest in the land. He was very jealous
for the Lord God of hosts, and could brook no indignity to Christ.
King Charles had done dishonor of the darkest kind to the Lord Jesus. He
had grasped at the Crown of Christ, had broken the holy Covenant, had
crushed the Church, and had shed the blood of the saints. The sight of
such horrible wickedness made Cargill's blood boil, and his sermons
arose betimes in passionate eloquence against the guilty king. On one
occasion he poured out upon the royal head a triple woe. This could
never be pardoned by the crowned murderer of God's people. The king
pursued him with vengeful wrath. A price equal to $1,200 was offered for
his head, alive or dead. Twenty years and more the bloodhounds of
persecution were on his track. Twenty years, with the sword hanging over
the head, makes a solemn life. Twenty years, amidst the hardships and
horrors of persecution, gives a rich experience. Twenty years, in the
furnace heated seven times more than it is wont, makes a pure soul.
Twenty years, hiding under the shadow of the Most High, makes a powerful
preacher. It was said of him, as of his Master, though in a lesser
sense, "Never man spake like this man." His voice reached wide circles,
resounded across broad glades, and echoed from rugged mountain sides.
Thousands were melted by his tender words, and many were swung into line
with the Covenant by his forceful logic. He spoke out of deep
experience, pleading as a man who stood in the glare of Christ's
judgment seat. While he preached, the eternal world seemed irradiant
about him. Some of his discourses have been preserved by the press.
Cargill's sermons and prayers were usually short. He once received a
gentle reproof for his brevity. He was holding a Conventicle; the people
had come a long distance for the preaching; they hungered and thirsted
for God and His Word. The great congregation was feasting on the rich
abundance of the Gospel, and hanging on the lips of the minister, when
he suddenly stopped. He had finished. One of the hearers, who felt that
only a slice of bread was given, when a loaf was needed, approached him
and said, "Oh, sir, 'tis long betwixt meals, and we are in a starving
condition, and it is sweet and good and wholesome which ye deliver; but
why do ye straiten us so much for shortness?" Cargill replied, "Ever
since I bowed the knee in good earnest to pray, I never durst pray or
preach with my gifts; and when my heart is not affected, and comes not
up with my mouth, I always thought it time for me to quit. What comes
not from my heart, I have little hope that it will go to the heart of
others." He was able to distinguish between the product of his own gifts
and that of the Holy Spirit. The one is like bubbles on the water for
hungry souls; the other like the grapes of Eschol.
[Illustration: EARLSTON CASTLE
This castle is very ancient. The Earlstons were zealous reformers for
many generations. They suffered much in the persecution, and furnished
at least one martyr, William Gordon, a young man who was apprehended on
his way to the battle of Bothwell Bridge, and shot on the road.]
The most notable event in the career of Cargill was the excommunication
of the king, and six of his accomplices, from the Covenanted Church.
These seven men were the chief persecutors at that time. Formerly they
had been Covenanters, but had abandoned the Covenant, and had fallen
into excessive wickedness. The Church had never dealt with their cases;
she had lost the power. The Church courts were controlled by the king.
But shall discipline, therefore, fail? Can the Church no more sustain
her laws, and administer her censures? Is she incapacitated?
Extraordinary conditions justify extraordinary methods. Cargill
conceived the bold purpose of issuing these cases, and inflicting the
censures, solitary and alone, as a minister of Christ Jesus. Not in the
spirit of revenge, nor as a vain anathema, but by the authority of God,
in the name of Christ, and with profound sense of responsibility did he
mete out the spiritual penalty unto these blood-stained and impenitent
transgressors. The indestructible vitality of the Church thus reappeared
in that dread act.
This action was taken at a Conventicle held at Torwood early in the
autumn of 1680. The attendance was large. The people knew not what was
coming. Cargill was much animated. After a powerful sermon, he proceeded
with the act of excommunication. The form was this:
"I, being a minister of Jesus Christ, and having authority from Him, do,
in His name, and by His Spirit, excommunicate, cast out of the true
Church, and deliver up to Satan, Charles II., upon these grounds: (1)
His mocking of God; (2) His great perjury; (3) His rescinding all laws
for establishing the Reformation; (4) His commanding armies to destroy
the Lord's people; (5) His being an enemy to true Protestants; (6) His
granting remission and pardon to murderers; (7) His adulteries."
Cargill knew that he would be adversely judged, by future generations,
for what he had done; many would regard the excommunication as
unreasonable and unwarrantable. He, therefore, adventured his reputation
and authority on a prophecy, which he uttered in his sermon on the next
Sabbath: "If these men die the ordinary death of men, then God hath not
spoken by me." King Charles was poisoned; the Duke of York died raving
under the sentence; McKenzie died with blood flowing from many parts of
his body; the Duke of Monmouth was executed; Dalziel died while
drinking, without a moment of warning; Lauderdale sank into dotage
through excessive indulgence; the Duke of Rothes passed into eternity in
despair. The prophecy had its terrible fulfilment, to the last man. "It
is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God."
Not much now remained for Cargill to do. A few more Conventicles, the
acknowledgment of Christ's supremacy before the judges, a public
testimony on the scaffold; then the blood can flow, and seal the truth,
which he loved so well to preach. His pursuers at length discovered him.
Great was the rejoicing of his enemies when he was found, and bound, and
hastened to prison. His trial was swift, issuing in the death sentence.
His execution quickly followed. When he came to the gibbet, he placed
his back against the ladder, and addressed the throng that had gathered
to witness his last struggle. The venerable face beamed with happiness.
That morning he had written some of his flowing thoughts. Here is one of
them: "This is the most joyful day I ever saw; my joy is now begun never
to be interrupted." His soul was stirring with divine raptures; the
glory of heaven was breaking around him. The thrill of youthful life
again quickened his pulse; he wheeled about and mounted the scaffold,
saying, "The Lord knows I go up this ladder with less fear and
perturbation of mind than ever I entered the pulpit to preach." Having
reached the platform, where the rope was waiting for his neck, he bade
adieu to earth, and welcome to heaven. "Farewell," he exclaimed;
"Farewell, all relations and friends in Christ; farewell acquaintances
and all earthly enjoyments; farewell reading and preaching, praying and
believing, wanderings and reproaches and sufferings. Welcome joy
unspeakable and full of glory. Welcome Father, Son, and Holy Ghost! into
Thy hands I commit my spirit." What was death to a man like that but the
beginning of glory! The black scaffold was lighted up with the radiance
that streamed through the pearl gates.
How much does the spirit of zeal, courage, witness-bearing, and
discipline, stir the descendants of the martyred Covenanters in the
present day?
* * * * *
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
1. What may be said of Cargill's last years of service?
2. How many years of persecution did he suffer?
3. What aroused him against the king?
4. What official act did he perform on the king and six others?
5. What was the nature of this excommunication?
6. How did he protect himself against wrong criticism?
7. Was his prophecy fulfilled?
8. How did Cargill die?
9. What service is much neglected in the Church in our day?
XL.