"The mighty Lord is on my side,I will not be afraid;For any thing that man can doI shall not be dismayed."
The dragoons were unable to endure the glory of that face, or the sweetness of that voice. He was ordered to draw down his "bonnet" over his eyes, and receive the volley. He sternly refused, lifting it higher on his dauntless brow, and affirming that he could look the musketeers in the face, while they delivered the murderous fire. Then holding out his Bible, he haled them to the Judgment-seat, where they would be judged by that Book.
"Shoot," cried Claverhouse. Not a gun was discharged. The men were overawed by the sweet innocency and intrepid spirit of the youthful Covenanter.
"Shoot that bonnie young man!" exclaimed the officer, who had charge of the men appointed to do the bloody work. "I'll fight Clavers and a' his men first." Three others were found sufficiently hardened to do the cruel deed. The young hero fell, and expired. As the horsemen rode away, the stricken mother hastened to the spot. The young heart had ceased to beat; the eyes opened no more upon her kindly face. Sadly she gathered up the oozing brains, for which she had brought a clean napkin, knowing too well what had occurred; she then prepared the body for burial.
The Covenanters endeavored to keep the Bible ever close at hand. It was the open book in the house the desk-book in the shop, the pocket-book in the field, the guide-book on the road. When they had a breathing spell at their work, they inhaled its fragrance, fed upon its manna, drank from its wells of salvation, plucked the ripe fruit of its orchards. A glance at its sacred pages, now and then through the day, supplied strength, wisdom, comfort, and courage so much needed. But this pious habit imperiled life. Arthur Inglis one day, while resting his team at the plow, sat down on the furrow, with his open Bible. He was suddenly sighted by the wary dragoons, who were scouting the country. They spurred their steeds, and were quickly drawn up around their victim. The fact that he was reading the Bible was sufficient to convince them that he was worthy to die. Neither judge nor jury was necessary for conviction. He received the deadly volley and fell, expiring in the furrow where he sat.
The Bible, how we should prize it! Our fathers, when they opened the Book of God, knew not but ere they closed it their blood would stain the page upon which the eyes were feasting; yet they relished it more than their necessary food. How will our delight in the Word of God compare with theirs?
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
1. How did the Covenanters esteem the Bible?
2. What kind of inspiration did they ascribe to the Bible?
3. What second inspiration needed to understand it?
4. What was the Bible to these sufferers?
5. Describe their devotion to the Word of God; the experience of McRoy; Andrew Hislop; Arthur Inglis.
6. How ought we to esteem the Bible?
Alexander Peden was a burning and a shining light in the dark night of Scotland's persecution. His career in the ministry of the Gospel glowed with mysterious splendor. His natural powers flashed with supernatural glints, or rather, with excessive spiritual light, by the indwelling Holy Spirit. God, through persecution, made many mighty men.
Peden was born in 1626, when King Charles was trying hard to stamp out Presbyterianism. He was twelve years old, when the Covenant renewed at Greyfriars' Church thrilled the kingdom. He was twenty-four when Charles II. took the throne, and wrought havoc with the Reformation. When thirty-six, he was driven from his church at Glenluce by the wrath of the king. When forty-eight, he was banished to the Bass Rock, where he rested, like an eagle on its aerie, his soul betimes soaring above all clouds, and calmly viewing the ransomed in presence of the eternal Throne. At sixty, he gave death a royal welcome, uttering predictions, bestowing blessings, and giving signs, like one of the prophets of old. Thus his singular life fell into periods of twelves, each arising above the other, like mountain upon mountain, in ruggedness and majesty, until his noble spirit took its flight from the scenes of earth.
A great distress befell him on the day appointed for his licensure. A serious charge was preferred against him, affecting his moral character. His licensure, therefore, was deferred. Greatly humiliated, he withdrew to a solitary place, and spent twenty-four hours in prayer. He was all night alone with the Angel of the Covenant, and wrestled till he got the blessing. A prayer lasting twenty-four hours, poured forth from the heart, will work wonders. He has not told us how he sat by the murmuring waters, pouring out his complaint; nor how that day was to him like night, and the night like outer darkness; nor how he mingled his sighs with the moaning of the winds, and his tears with the drops of the night; but he has told how that the Lord answered him. Returning to the house he said, "Give me meat and drink, for I have gotten what I was seeking; I will be vindicated." His innocency was soon made clear by the criminal making a public confession of guilt.
Peden was called to the church of Glenluce, where he remained as pastor three years. His preaching was earnest, pointed, and powerful. He was greatly beloved by his flock, and the work of the Lord prospered in his hand. But his ministry in that field was violently interrupted by the vengeance of King Charles, which fell upon the Church in 1662, driving 400 ministers from their parishes. Peden possessed a militant spirit, and ignored the day set by royal authority for the arbitrary vacation. He boldly continued overtime. At length the strain was so great that he had to go. His farewell sermon was preached from Acts 20:31: "Therefore watch, and remember, that by the space of three years I ceased not to warn every one night and day with tears." The text was peculiarly appropriate to the occasion. The house was crowded; tumultuous emotions surged through the audience; the anguish found vent in weeping, wailing, and loud lamentations. The sermon was frequently interrupted with the grief. The service continued until night. He never again preached in that pulpit.
The gift of prophecy distinguished Peden in a striking manner, giving him a unique place in history. He spoke with accuracy of many events, without information other than that received directly from God. But this will astonish no one who is acquainted with man's power in prayer. Prayer was the secret of Peden's prescience. God proceeds on established principles, in His dealings with His people. "The secret of the Lord is with them that fear Him." "And the Lord said, Shall I hide from Abraham that thing which I do?" Peden's prayers on certain occasions lasted all night. Communion with God was his delight; he lived in the presence of the Almighty; his hiding-place was in the brightness of the light shining from the face of Jesus Christ. His heart was burdened with the interests of Christ's kingdom. Therefore God gave him eyes to see much that was hidden from others.
He was sixty miles away when the Covenanters fell on the field of Rullion Green. News then traveled no faster than a horse. That evening he was sad. A friend inquired the cause. He replied, "To-morrow I shall tell you." That night he retired to his room, but went not to bed; he spent the hours in prayer. Next morning he said, "Our friends, that were in arms for Christ's interest, are now broken, killed, taken, and fled, every man."
He was forty miles away on the dismal Sabbath, when the Covenanters were slaughtered at Bothwell Bridge. He had an engagement to preach. The people assembled in a solitary place for the service. They were hungry for the Word of God, but Peden did not appear. At noon they sent to know the cause. He replied, "Let the people go to their prayers; I neither can, nor will preach this day, for our friends are fallen and fleed before the enemy; they are hagging and hacking them down, and their blood is running like water."
Peden at Cameron's Grave.Peden at Cameron's Grave.
One day while preaching, he arose in a flight of inspiration, exclaiming, "I must tell you, in the name of the Lord, who sent me unto you this day, to tell you these things, that ere it be very long, the living shall not be able to bury the dead in thee, O Scotland; and many a mile shall ye walk, or ride, and shall not see a farm-house, but ruinous wastes, for the quarrel of a broken Covenant and wrongs done to the Son of God."
This servant of God had profound knowledge of Bible doctrines. He had a masterly conception of the crown rights of Jesus Christ, and the fundamental principles of His kingdom. He had vivid views of the excellence of holiness, and the atrocity of sin. This filled him, like the Psalmist, with horror at the doom of transgressors. His inner life was fiercely swept with the contrary passions of love for righteousness, and hatred for iniquity. His soul was the scene of terrific conflicts. His preaching and praying against the powers of darkness often revealed an internal tragedy. One night while preaching to the Covenanters who had assembled in a sheep-house, he cried out, "Black, black, black will be the day, that shall come upon Ireland; they shall travel forty miles, and not see a reeking house, or hear a crowing cock." Then, clapping his hands with dramatic effect, he exclaimed: "Glory, glory to the Lord, that He has accepted a bloody sacrifice of a sealed testimony off Scotland's hand."
Peden could not brook any departure from Christ and His Covenant. Covenant-breaking was, in his eyes, a most aggravated sin. He was quick to see the Lord coming to avenge the quarrel of His Covenant, and his soul was filled with dread.
Here are some of his utterances:
Peden never married. During twenty-four years of wanderings, his life was pathetically lonely. When death was approaching, he returned to the old home, to spend his last days amid the scenes of his childhood. His brother still dwelt there. He received a cordial welcome, though his presence imperiled the family; for the dragoons were still pursuing him. To that true and tender soul, how beautiful must have been the green fields, the rippling brooks, and the familiar hills, where he had roamed when a child! They made him a cave on the hillside; a bush covered its entrance. There he was hidden from the enemy, and there he lay in his last illness, and ripened for heaven.
When near his end he predicted, that, bury him where they would, the enemy would lift his body. Forty days after his burial, the spiteful foe raised his body, and buried it among the graves of criminals. Thus they attempted to disgrace this servant of Jesus Christ. But in later years his memory was so dearly cherished, that many good people requested to be interred beside him, and the grounds around that grave in time became a beautiful cemetery.
Communion with God is the secret of power, and of spiritual vision; and faithfulness in God's Covenant is the secret of Divine communion. The possibility of living in holy familiarity with God the Father, and with our Lord Jesus Christ, and with the Holy Spirit, learning the thoughts of God, feeling the thrill of His power, viewing His far-reaching plans, and co-operating in His glorious work—is this only a fascinating dream? Nay, the Covenanters of the martyr-spirit found it to be a realization. Do their children strive after the same attainment?
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
1. What gift specially distinguished Peden?
2. What distress did he meet at his licensure?
3. How did he overcome it?
4. Where was his first pastorate?
5. Why did he leave Glenluce?
6. What remarkable prophecies did he utter?
7. Repeat some of his sayings.
8. What occurred to his body after burial?
9. How may we attain to a similar familiarity with God?
King Charles II. died February 6, 1685. Few tears were shed, many hearts were glad, at his departure. He was called the "Merry Monarch," in allusion to his frivolous spirit and gross dissipation. "Wherever you see his portrait, you may fancy him in his court at Whitehall, surrounded by some of the worst vagabonds in the kingdom, drinking, gambling, indulging in vicious conversation, and committing every kind of profligate excess."
Charles left behind him a gory path. Pools of blood, precious blood, the blood of the saints, marked it all the way through the twenty-five years of his reign. Where did that horrible path lead? We shudder at the answer; we draw a veil over the scene; we are careful not to speak our thoughts. But the strong-hearted martyrs followed the vision to the end. "Would you know what the devil is doing in hell?" exclaimed John Semple, one of the Covenanted ministers. "He is going with a long rod in his hand, crying, Make way, make room, for the king is coming; and the other persecutors are posting hither." How like the scathing irony of Isaiah, in describing the death of the king of Babylon! "Hell from beneath is moved for thee, to meet thee at thy coming." An ovation in the lower world! What horrid mockery there awaits the chieftains of crime!
A curious coincidence occurred at this time. Alexander Peden, on a certain night, was conducting family worship. He was hundreds of miles distant from the king. While reading from the Bible, he suddenly stopped, and exclaimed, "What's this I hear?" He uttered the strange words three times. Then after a brief pause, he clapped his hands and said, "I hear a dead shot at the throne of Britain. Let him go; he has been a black sight to these lands, especially to poor Scotland. We're well quit of him." That same night the king fell in a fit of apoplexy, or as some say, by a dose of poison, and died within five days. His brother, the Duke of York, succeeded him on the throne.
James VII, the new king, inherited Charles' work of slaughter, and continued it with revolting savagery. He, too, was infatuated with the thought of being supreme over the Church, and became infuriated with the purpose of overthrowing Presbyterianism, and suppressing the Covenanters, now called "The Cameronians." Had he paused to consider, surely he would have hesitated to follow the man, who had gone to meet his Judge, to answer for the blood that was crying against him for vengeance. We tremble at the thought of the naked soul facing the accusations of the slain, and receiving righteous retribution for its cruel deeds. How great the infatuation of the successor, who determined to follow the same path!
Among those who suffered under king James, the family of Gilbert Wilson is worthy of special notice. Neither Gilbert, nor his wife, had espoused the Covenanters' cause; but they had three children who claimed the enviable distinction; Margaret, aged eighteen years, Thomas, sixteen, and Agnes, thirteen. These children had been deeply moved by the stories of bloodshed, that were then recited, night by night at many a fireside. Their sympathy with the persecuted was aroused unwittingly, and they absorbed the principles of the Covenant; somehow, and it could not be explained, they became Covenanters, and that of the noblest type. Their parents were shocked, for their property, and freedom, and even their lives were involved. The children were required to abandon the Covenant, or quit their home. They chose the latter, sad and terrible as it was. These young hearts had grasped one of the highest and hardest truths in the religion of Jesus Christ—"He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me."
Choosing Death Rather Than LifeChoosing Death Rather Than Life
One day they walked slowly and sadly away from their beloved parents, and their pleasant home. From a distance they cast a farewell glance upon the scenes of their childhood, then quickened their pace to reach the solitudes and escape the soldiers. The dragoons came to the house, but missed their prey. They were very angry, and enjoined the parents, under a heavy penalty, to refuse their children food and shelter; yea, all human kindness. The children pursued their way, not knowing whither they were going. The desolate moors, the dreary mountains, the damp caves, the chilly moss-hags were before them, but their resting-place this night must be determined by the setting of the sun. We have not been told where they wrapped themselves in their plaids for sleep, but it was likely on the ground. They sadly missed the cozy bed their mother used to make. Where they had to stop was so shelterless, silent, chilly, and lonely. They were weary, hungry, defenceless, trembling like nestlings cast violently out of the nest. Margaret the oldest was a mother to the others. She loved her Bible. It contained God's many promises, one especially precious on a night like this: "Fear thou not; for I am with thee; be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness." With such assuring words, they fell asleep in each other's arms, their heads resting on the bosom of Christ's everlasting love. The sun arose, and they, wandering on, found the Covenanters, with whom they shared the privations, yea, also the consolations, of persecuted life.
Having heard that King Charles was dead, the two sisters supposed that the persecution had abated, and ventured to the house of Margaret McLaughlan, an old faithful friend. Here they were discovered and arrested; and, with this aged widow, were cast into prison. Agnes was ransomed by her father, at a price equal to $500. The two Margarets were sentenced to die. The manner of their death was peculiar and very shocking.
On May 11, 1685, they were taken to the sea-shore to be drowned. While the tide was low two stakes were driven deep into the oozy sand, one close to the water, the other nearer the shore. To the first Margaret McLaughlin was bound; to the second, Margaret Wilson. The shore was crowded with people. Major Windram, with his troop, had charge of the execution. This man himself like Gilbert Wilson had two daughters and a son. They, too, like the Wilson children, had become aroused at the deeds of blood, and remonstrated with their father against his atrocious cruelty, in persecuting the Covenanters. One after another they had sickened and died, each charging their death on him, as God's vengeance upon his deeds. This man, after all his bitter experience, was hard enough to watch these women die beneath the briny waves, and show them no pity. The tide slowly recovered its strength; higher and higher it arose around the more distant woman—up to her face—over her head—then a death-struggle. "What think you now of your companion?" said a soldier to the young maiden, as the head of the aged martyr rose and fell on the waves. "What do I see but Christ, in one of His members, wrestling there," she calmly replied. "Think you that we are the sufferers? No, it is Christ in us; for He sends none a warfaring on their own charges." The tide crept up upon this second martyr like the death-chill, but her heart was strong and fearless in the Lord. Her voice arose sweetly above the swash of the waves, reciting Scripture, pouring forth prayer, and singing Psalms. The tide swelled around her bosom, ascended her naked neck, touched her warm lips, yet the heavenly music continued. But now a breaker dashes over the uplifted face; the voice is silenced; the head droops upon the water. At this moment a soldier rushed forward, and dragged her to the shore, hoping that she had received enough of the sea to frighten her into a confession, and thereby securing her release. The gasping girl was asked to renounce her Covenant. She refused. "Dear Margaret," said a friend in melting tones, "Say, 'God save the king!' say, 'God save the king!'" With sweet composure, she answered, "God save him if He will, for it is his salvation I desire." Her friends, rushing up to the officers, exclaimed, "O, Sir, she has said it; she has said it." "Then let her take the oath, and renounce her Covenant," he replied with cruel harshness. She answered with emphasis, "I will not; I am one of Christ's children; let me go." They plunged her back into the heaving waters; the struggle was brief. The lifeless form was cast upon the strand, and soon borne off by loving hands. The limp body was now free from all sorrow and suffering. The beautiful casket was empty; the shining jewel had been taken to adorn the crown of the KING OF KINGS, and to flash forever in the glory of heaven.
"The tide flowed in, and rising over her lips,She sang no more, but lifted up her face,And there was glory all over the sky,And there was glory all over the sky,A flood of glory—and the lifted faceSwam in it, till it bowed beneath the flood,And Scotland's Maiden Martyr went to God."
The young people who are governed by the Word of God, and strengthened by a Covenant with God, and steadfastly aim at the glory of God, will have the Holy Spirit in rich abundance. When love to Jesus arises into a holy passion, subordinating all earthly interests and relations, be assured that extraordinary services, sacrifices, achievements, victories, and honors are awaiting.
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
1. When did King Charles die?
2. What terrors must such a man have to meet at death?
3. Who was his successor on the throne?
4. What was his character?
5. What notable family suffered under him?
6. Relate the sad circumstances of the Wilson children.
7. What happened to the sisters and their elderly friend?
8. What was the manner of the death of the two Margarets?
9. Describe the martyrdom of Margaret Wilson.
10. How may the young people arise in strength for church service?
The eldership has ever been a tower of strength in the Covenanted Church. The elders have been pilots at the helm, when the ship was driven by fiercest storms, and the ministers had altogether disappeared. They have been the homeguards, when the most desperate assaults were made upon their beloved Zion. They have been leaders, moving forward with wise, fearless, and persistent step, when Christ's cause demanded aggressive testimony for down-trodden truth, and against uprising error.
The Presbyterian Church has derived her distinctive name from the office of the elder. Elder, Presbytery, Presbyterianism, Scriptural Church Government, Christ's supremacy unlimited and unrivaled—these thoughts are links in a chain, all made of the same gold. Presbyterianism is the doctrine of Christ's sovereignty, crystalized into form, and reduced to practice; the Headship of Jesus over His Church finds therein its grandest expression.
The Covenanted Presbyterians recognized only one form of Church government as Scriptural—that invested in the elders. They rejected all other forms, as human inventions, without Divine warrant, an injury to the Church, an infringement upon Christian liberty, a seizure of Christ's crown rights and a blot upon His royal glory.
The elders are Christ's delegates, appointed to administer His government in the Church. They are empowered by His will, accredited by His Spirit, directed by His Word, entrusted with His authority, and accountable at His throne. To the elders are committed, directly or indirectly, all the interests of Christ's Church. What awful responsibility! Surely the elder may pause at the threshold of the sacred office, and, with trembling lips exclaim, "How dreadful is this place!"
The Presbyterian Church of Scotland, in her palmy days, numbered about 1,000 congregations, each under the care of a session. The elders may therefore be estimated at 6,000 effective men, when the twenty-eight years' persecution struck the Covenanters. The value of this force can never be known, in advising, comforting, defending, and leading the broken congregations of God's people, amidst the storms that desolated their beloved Zion.
The minister, being assisted and encouraged by a faithful band of elders, was able to do great work in his parish, and the Church flourished exceedingly between the Covenant of 1638 and the persecution which began in 1660. During the persecution, the order of the Church being broken up, the election and ordination of elders had almost ceased. Yet, as the regular eldership melted away by death and defection, there were other sons of the Covenant, who, in spirit, service, suffering, and leadership, became elders in fact, and were duly recognized and honored.
The service of the elders in those days appeared in many forms. Captain Henry Hall, of Haughhead, did splendid work in a variety of ways. He often placed himself between the enemy and the field-meetings, in defense of the Covenanters. He was a large man, formidable and fearless. Many a time, with sword in hand, he rode his dashing charger upon the king's troops, occasionally breaking their ranks. He was chiefly distinguished, however, for his willingness to sacrifice all he possessed, in the interest of the Church. He opened up his house for the licensure of Richard Cameron, when such a meeting jeopardized his life, family, and property. He also opened up his farm for field-meetings, despite the wrath of the king, and the danger of being raided by the troops. A Communion, held on his grounds, was long remembered for the gracious work of the Holy Spirit. George Barcley was the minister on that occasion. The people had come from their rocky retreats and distant homes in great numbers. The preaching was refreshing, and the Lord's Table furnished a great feast for hungry souls. The people, not fully satisfied with the bountiful provisions of the Sabbath, came again on Monday, and swarmed over the green field, waiting for another service. During the sermon a shower descended, but the audience did not seem to mind it. The minister himself was quite pleased, remarking while the rain was falling, "I am as sensible of the drizzle of the dew of heaven upon our souls, as of the rain upon our bodies." Elder Hall died of wounds received while defending Donald Cargill, June 3, 1680.
John Brown of PriesthillJohn Brown of Priesthill
The elders of those times were profoundly intelligent in the principles of the Covenant for which they suffered. They were Bible men, who delighted in the law of God, and drank deeply at the fountain-head of knowledge. They were experts in the Confession of Faith, the Larger and Shorter Catechisms, and the Church Covenants. John Nisbet, of Hardhill, was a hero on many a field, defending minister and people from the merciless troopers; but his greatest service was in the use of the sword of the Spirit. His last testimony abounds with lovely passages of Scripture, beautiful and fragrant as a bush abloom with roses. His witness for the truth came from a rich heart; his protest against error was solemn as an affidavit. His testimony shows deep experience in the Lord, and gives faithful warning to Covenant-breakers. Here are some of his words: "I close with Christ in that way of redemption, which He hath purchased. I give my testimony to the Holy Scriptures, for they are the rule men are to walk by. I leave my testimony against all wrongers of my Lord's crown." This man died on the scaffold; he ascended the ladder, rejoicing and praising God, saying, "My soul doth magnify the Lord; my soul doth magnify the Lord. I have longed, these sixteen years, to seal the precious cause and interest of my precious Christ with my blood" He suffered December 4, 1685.
Many of the elders were filled with spiritual enthusiasm. They had such vivid views of the Lord Jesus and of the glory of the world to come, that their souls were poured out in exclamations of wonder. Robert Garnock, of Stirling, seemed at times to be caught up to the third heaven, where he saw and enjoyed what he was unable to utter. He could express the inexpressible only by the repetition of Oh! Oh! Oh! Referring to a season when no one was permitted to see him in prison, he said, "Oh, but I had a sweet time! The Lord's countenance was better unto me, than all the company in the world." In his dying testimony, he pleaded in the following manner: "Oh, will ye love Him? Oh, He is well worth the loving, and quitting all for! Oh! for many lives to seal the sweet cause with! If I had as many lives, as there are hairs on my head, I would think them all too few to be martyrs for the truth. Oh, if I could get my royal King Jesus cried up and down the world! Oh, but I think it very weighty business, to be within twelve hours of eternity! I will get my fill of love this night, for I will be with Jesus in paradise. Welcome, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; into thy hands I commit my spirit."
Those elders were men of hope. They were enlisted in a winning cause, and knew it. In the thickest of the fight, the cloud was dark, and the thunder deafening; yet they knew that victory would ultimately perch on their banner. Their triumph was assured in Christ, who had said, "Be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." Robert Miller, of Rutherglen, was, by his courageous hopefulness, an inspiration to the afflicted Church. Pointing to the future, he exhorted his fellow-sufferers to hold out, for glorious days were coming. "And now I dare not doubt," said he, "but Christ is upon His way to return again. Oh, be earnest with Him! Employ your strength holding up the fallen-down standard of our Lord. If ye be found real in this duty, ye shall either be a member of the Church Militant, and see the glory of the Second Temple, which shall be a glorious sight; or else ye shall be transported, and be a member of the Church Triumphant; so ye shall be no loser, but a noble gainer, either of the ways." He was martyred one winter morning, in the early dawn; the shadows of night still lingered, for the murderers may have dreaded the light. Before the sun had risen, his spirit took its flight to the realms of eternal brightness.
Are the elders of the Covenanted Church worthy of their predecessors? Do they measure up to the standard of fortitude in the faith, self-immolation for the truth, intelligence in the Scriptures, enthusiasm in Christ, and hopefulness that has no sunset? Are they leaders of the people in every good enterprise? Are they defenders of the flock against all defection? Are they carrying the banner of Christ forward, even beyond the ministers, where the testimony for King Jesus requires it? For all faithful elders, seats in glory are prepared round about the throne of God.
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
POINTS FOR THE CLASS.
1. Whence did the Presbyterian Church get its name?
2. What is the only Scriptural form of church government?
3. What dread responsibility attached to this office?
4. How did the persecuted Church keep up her force of elders?
5. Describe the service some of them rendered; Hall, Nisbet, Garnock, Miller.
6. What questions should our elders apply to their own conscience?
"See the top of yon hill?" said the shepherd's wife, pointing to the highest crag of Cairn Table. "Keep that in yir e'en, and ye'll come to John Brown's grave." Our way lay through a pathless moor, covered deep with grass, rushes, and moss; and we had asked direction to the spot where the martyr's body sleeps.
The day was wet, the pasture was beaded with drops, and the rushing streamlets disputed our crossing yet a passionate longing to see the place where John Brown, known as the "Christian Carrier" had lived, and was buried, overcame every difficulty. The walk covered three miles. At length we ascended a knoll, and, lo, the monument stood before our eyes, and almost at our feet. Now we were on ground, where one of the most tragic scenes of Scotland was transacted. Cargill very beautifully said, "The moors are flowered with martyrs' graves." Here is one of these flowers; a century plant it is, watered with precious blood, and abloom in sweet solitude.
The buildings are gone; not a trace of them is left. The grave was made, it is said, where the martyr fell, in front of his cottage. It is enclosed with a stone wall breast high. A flat stone lies over the remains, bearing a copious inscription. The solitariness is oppressive; death and desolation here bear undisputed sway. The blood ran in chills, as the cold grey stones gave their testimony, amid the gusts that played with the heather, and the drizzle that sprinkled our bare heads. The thoughts of the heart played wildly; imagination refused to be bridled; in a moment former conditions were, in vision, revived. The monument had given place to the dwelling, and the dreariness was astir with the scenes of busy life.
The country around, was then, as it is now, somber as a desert. The silence is solemn; we bated our breath; the lips shrank from speaking; aught except a prayer, or the melody of a Psalm, seemed out of place. The outlook on every side is without an inhabitant; yet, even here, the persecutor sought his prey, and did his cruel work.
Many years had this home been a sanctuary in the wilderness, and a refuge for the hunted Covenanters. John Brown and Isabel, his wife, were like Zacharias and Elizabeth, "both righteous before God, walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless." They had two children, a babe in the mother's arms, and Janet, five years old, a child by a former wife. Morning and evening God's worship perfumed their humble dwelling. These hearts, filled with the love of Jesus, poured forth His praise every day, but especially on the Sabbath, which they kept with great care. Their hospitality was munificent: they entertained angelic strangers. The latch-string was on the outside, and many a Covenanter, driven by storms, or hunted by dragoons, found a welcome here. They came wearied with journeying, wasted with hunger, weakened with sickness, and worried with trouble, and found rest, comfort, and inspiration in this habitation, where God was pleased to dwell.
A society of Covenanters held its meetings in this home. Several families came across the broad moor on Sabbath morning, and remained till evening. Sometimes they traveled both ways under star-light, for fear of the enemy. The day was devoutly spent in prayer, reading the Word, singing Psalms, and conversing on the heart-stirring doctrines of redemption. They spoke much concerning the duties and dangers of the times. This society continued to meet, till broken up by the martyrdom of its men; one after another was pursued and shot down like game on the mountains.
John Brown's home became a rendezvous for the Delegated meetings of the United Societies. This thickened the dangers that were gathering around his life. He had a presentiment that his blood would be shed for the cause of Christ, yet he accepted duty at every hazard, and rejoiced in privileges however perilous.
After the death of Donald Cargill, the Cameronians for a while had no ministers. They stood, however, unfalteringly by their Covenant. They even grew aggressive in their testimony; hurled new challenges at the king; took forward steps in the battle for conscience, liberty, and the royal rights of Christ. The societies, numbering several hundred, were able to unify and utilize their strength, by means of the Delegated meetings. The second meeting of these delegates was held in this consecrated home. Sixteen men, representative Cameronians, competent and fearless elders, gathered around this hearth, where the turf-fire glowed, while the March storms swept the moorland. Here they deliberated how the Covenanters might continue the struggle, and intensify it by striking harder blows against error, and giving stronger testimony to the rights of their kingly Saviour. They were at no time planning for ease, safety, or deliverance. "We only fear," said one, "that our sufferings will end before the reformation begins." The glory of Jesus Christ was their objective point.
A Widow's SorrowA Widow's Sorrow
Alexander Peden in his wanderings, drifted into this home, on the night previous to the awful tragedy that occurred in the front yard. How surpassingly kind is God's providence! Surely Peden was sent of God to fill these hearts with comfort, courage, and triumph in Jesus Christ, for the trial, which was now at their door. Peden held John Brown in highest esteem. Of him he said, "He was a clear, shining light, the greatest Christian I ever conversed with." What a night of prayer and inspired fellowship those men must have had together. Their souls were then in a state of highest tension; both were fired with zeal for the Covenant of the Lord, and melted with sorrow for the desolated Church.
Next morning, May 1, 1685, they were up at dawn for family worship. The first verses of the 27th Psalm were sung. How wonderfully appropriate for such a morning! The Psalm is the shout of faith:
"The Lord's my light and saving health,Who shall make me dismayed?My life's strength is the Lord; of whomThen shall I be afraid?"
John Brown then went to the field, spade in hand to dig turf. Peden lingered; he was sad; the shadow of the great distress had fallen on his tender spirit. Taking his farewell of Mrs. Brown, he paused and said, as if to himself, "Poor woman; a fearful morning; a dark, misty morning!" He then went his way.
"Oh, mother, a great many horsemen are coming down the hill with father," cried little Janet, rushing into the house.
"The thing that I feared is come upon me," cried the mother, "O, give me grace for this hour," she prayed, lifting her eyes to heaven. Then taking her babe in her bosom, and Janet by the hand, she went out to meet the soldiers, praying as she went. Claverhouse was in command. She pleaded that her husband's life might be spared; but not words nor tears could move the hardened man.
"Will you pray for King James and his supremacy?" said Claverhouse to his prisoner.
"Jesus Christ is the Supreme Head of His Church," was the fearless reply.
"Will you attend the curate's service?" continued Claverhouse.
"I cannot attend where God's law is not honored," responded Brown.
"Go to your prayers, for you shall immediately die," cried Claverhouse. Even the soldiers were horrified at the awful threat.
"Isabel, this is the day I told you of, before we were married," said he tenderly to his wife. "You see me now summoned to appear before the Court of heaven, as a witness in our Redeemer's cause. Are you willing?"
"Heartily willing," she answered, her voice tremulous with affection for him and submission to God. Her heart was breaking, yet she would cheer up the martyr spirit of her husband.
"That is all I wait for," he said, then added in a rapture of joy, "O, death, where is thy sting? O, grave, where is thy victory?" He prayed for Covenant blessing upon mother and children, soon to be left so lonely; adding, "Blessed be thou, O Holy Spirit, that speaketh more comfort to my heart, than my oppressors can speak terror to my ears."
"Shoot" said Claverhouse to the soldiers, drawn up for the bloody work. Not a gun was discharged. The brutal leader then fired the deadly shot. The martyr fell at the feet of his wife, and after a brief struggle the noble spirit departed. "What think you of your husband now?" said Claverhouse to Mrs. Brown. "I always thought well of him, but more now than ever," she quietly replied. "You deserve the same fate," said the brutal man. "And if you had the power, I would receive it," she defiantly responded. "But O, how will you answer for this day's work?" she continued. "I'll take God in my own hand," he replied. The soldiers silently and sullenly rode away, ashamed of the horrible deed. Mrs. Brown, with her children, sat down beside the outstretched martyr, and poured out her great sorrow.
John Brown might have saved his life, and his family, by relaxing in his Covenant, and joining another Church. The family that keeps Covenant with God will surely be tried; difficulties and hardships must be met. But the victory is always to them who cling close to the Lord, in personal holiness, in family worship, and in Covenant-keeping.