Loud and full rang the volume of voices in the kitchen of the King's
Head at Colchester, that winter evening. They did not stand up in
silence and let a choir do it for them, while they listened to it as
they might to a German band, and with as little personal concern. When
men's hearts are warm with patriotism, or overflowing with loyalty, they
don't want somebody else to sing _Rule, Britannia_, or _God Save the
Queen_; the very enjoyment lies in doing it themselves. Nobody would
dream of paying another person to go to a party or to see a royal
procession for him. Well, then, when we prefer to keep silent, and hear
somebody sing God's praises instead of doing it ourselves, what can it
mean except that our Hearts are not warm with love and overflowing with
thankfulness, as they ought to be? And cold hearts are not the stuff
that makes martyrs.
There was plenty of martyr material in the King's Head kitchen that
night--from old Agnes Silverside to little Cissy Johnson; from the
learned priest, Mr Pulleyne, to many poor men and women who did not
know their letters. They were not afraid of what people would say, nor
even of what people might do. And yet they knew well that it was
possible, and even likely, that very terrible things might be done to
them. Their feeling was,--Well, let them be done, if that be the best
way I can glorify God. Let them be done, if it be the way in which I
can show that I love Jesus Christ. Let them be done, if by suffering
with Him I can win a place nearer to Him, and send a thrill of happiness
to the Divine and human heart of the Saviour who paid His heart's blood
to ransom me.
So the hymn was not at all too long for them, though it had fifteen
verses; and the sermon was not too long, though it lasted an hour and a
half. When people have to risk their lives to hear a sermon is not the
time when they cry out to have sermons cut shorter. They very well knew
that before another meeting took place at the King's Head, some, and
perhaps all of them, might be summoned to give up liberty and life for
the love of the Lord Jesus.
Mr Pulleyne took for his text a few words in the 23rd verse of the
sixth chapter of Deuteronomy. "He brought us out from thence, that He
might bring us in." He said to the people:--
"`He brought us out'--who brought us? God, our Maker; God, that loved
the world. `He brought us out'--who be we? Poor, vile, wicked sinners,
worms of the earth, things that He could have crushed easier than I can
crush a moth. From whence? From Egypt, the house of bondage; from sin,
self, Satan--the only three evil things there be: whereby I mean,
necessarily inwardly, utterly evil. Thence He brought us out. Friends,
we must come out of Egypt; out from bondage; out of these three ill
things, sin, and self, and Satan: God will have us out. He will not
suffer us to tarry in that land. And if we slack [Hesitate, feel
reluctant] to come out, He will drive us sharp thence. Let us come out
quick, and willingly. There is nothing we need sorrow to leave behind;
only the task-master, Satan; and the great monster, sin; and the slime
of the river wherein he lieth hid, self. He will have at us with his
ugly jaws, and bite our souls in twain, if we have not a care. Let us
run fast from this land where we leave behind such evil things.
"But see, there is more than this. God had an intent in thus driving us
forth. He did not bring us out, and leave us there. Nay, `He brought
us out that He might bring us in.' In where? Into the Holy Land, that
floweth with milk and honey; the fair land where nothing shall enter
that defileth; the safe land where in all the holy mountain nothing
shall hurt nor destroy; His own land, where He hath His Throne and His
Temple, and is King and Father of them that dwell therein. Look you, is
not this a good land? Are you not ready to go and dwell therein? Do
not the clusters of its grapes--the hearing of its glories--make your
mouths water? See what you shall exchange: for a cruel task-master, a
loving Father; for a dread monster, an holy City; for the base and ugly
slime of the river, the fair paving of the golden streets, and the soft
waving of the leaves of the tree of life, and the sweet melody of angel
harps. Truly, I think this good barter. If a man were to exchange a
dead rat for a new-struck royal, [see Note 1] men would say he had well
traded, he had bettered himself, he was a successful merchant. Lo, here
is worse than a dead rat, and better than all the royals in the King's
mint. Will ye not come and trade?
"Now, friends, ye must not misconceive me, as though I did mean that men
could buy Heaven by their own works. Nay, Heaven and salvation be free
gifts--the glorious gifts of a glorious God, and worthy of the Giver.
But when such gifts are set before you but for the asking, is it too
much that ye should rise out of the mire and come?
"`He brought them out, that He might bring them in.' He left them not
in the desert, to find their own way to the Holy Land. Marry, should
they ever have come there? I trow not. Nay, no more than a babe of a
month old, if ye set him down at Bothal's Gate, could find his way to
the Moot Hall. But He dealt not with them thus. He left them not to
find their own way. He brought them, He led them, He showed them where
to plant their feet, first one step, then another, as mothers do to a
child when he learneth first to walk. `As a nurse cherisheth her
children,' the Apostle saith he dealt with his converts: and the Lord
useth yet tenderer image, for `as a mother comforteth her babe,' saith
He, `will I comfort you.' Yea, He bids the Prophet Esaias to learn
them, `line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little and there a
little'--look you, how careful is God of His nurse-children. `Feed My
Lambs,' saith He: and lambs may not nibble so hard as sheep. They take
not so full a mouthful; they love the short grass, that is sweet and
easily cropped. We be all lambs afore we be sheep. Sheep lack much
shepherding, but lambs yet more. Both be silly things, apt to stray
away, and the wolf catcheth them with little trouble. Now, if a dog be
lost, he shall soon find his way back; but a lamb and a babe, if they be
lost, they are utterly lost; they can never find the way. Look you, the
Lord likeneth His people to lambs and babes, these silly things that be
continually lost, and have no wit to find the way. So, brethren, _He_
finds the way. He goeth after that which is lost, until He find it.
First He finds the poor silly lamb, and then He leadeth it in the way
wherein it shall go. He `brings us in' to the fair green pastures and
by the still waters--brings us in to the safe haven where the little
boats lie at rest--brings us in to the King's banquet-hall where the
feast is spread, and the King Himself holdeth forth hands of welcome.--
He stretched not forth the cold sceptre; He giveth His own hand--that
hand that was pierced for our sins. What say I? Nay, `He shall gird
Himself, and shall come forth and serve them'--so great honour shall
they attain which serve God, as to have Him serve them.
"Now, brethren, is this not a fair lot that God appointeth for His
people? A King to their guide, and a throne to their bed, and angels to
their serving-men--verily these be folks of much distinction that be so
served! But, look you, there is one little point we may not miss--`If
we suffer, we shall reign.' There is the desert to be passed. There is
the Jordan to be forded. There is the cross to bear for the Master that
bare the cross for us. Yea, we shall best bear our cross by looking
well and oft on His cross. Ah! brethren, He standeth close beside; He
hath borne it all; He knoweth where the nails run, and in what manner
they hurt. Yet a little patience, poor suffering soul! yet a little
courage; yet a little stumbling over the rough stones of the wilderness:
and then the Golden City, and the royal banquet-hall, and the King that
brought us out despite all the Egyptians, that brought us in despite all
the dangers of the desert,--the King, our Shield, and Guide, and Father,
shall come forth and serve us."
Old Agnes Silverside, the priest's widow, sat with her hands clasped,
and her eyes fixed on the preacher. As he ended, she laid her hand upon
Rose Allen's.
"My maid," she said, "never mind the wilderness. The stones be sharp,
and the sun scorching, and the thirst sore: but one sight of the King in
the Golden City shall make up for all!"
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Note 1. Ten shillings; this was then the largest coin made.