A COVENANTER SKETCH.
O fearnot in a world like this,And thou shalt know ere long,Know how sublime a thing it isTo suffer and be strong.
O fearnot in a world like this,And thou shalt know ere long,Know how sublime a thing it isTo suffer and be strong.
O fearnot in a world like this,And thou shalt know ere long,Know how sublime a thing it isTo suffer and be strong.
O fearnot in a world like this,
And thou shalt know ere long,
Know how sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong.
Longfellow.
Almosttwo hundred years ago there lived in Scotland a girl whose name wasMargaret Wilson. She was a covenanter; that is, she belonged to that noble band of Scotch Christians who claimed the right of worshiping God according to the teachings of their own consciences.
About this time a violent persecution was commenced against these quiet, inoffensive and pious covenanters. The officer who commanded the King’s (James II.) forces in Scotland was namedClaverhouse. He was a man of violent temper, and possessed a heart as hard as adamant. The mere mention of his name would cast a gloom over many a happy home, and mothers would clasp their children closer to their bosoms whenever the news of his approach reached their ears. He drank in iniquity like water, andbreathed out bitter persecution and death against God’s servants. The poor covenanters were driven from their peaceful homes by his troopers, and forced to seek shelter in the rugged sides of the mountains. There they were hunted and shot down like wild beasts of the forest. Homeless, poor, despised, forsaken of man, day after day, and night after night, they wandered through the pathless woods without clothing to protect or food to nourish them. From many a mountain top, from many a barren heath, in the silence of the night, the fervent prayer and the wild warbling notes of some simple Scotch hymn went up like incense before the face of Jehovah. It is true “they were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with the sword; they wandered about in sheep-skins and goat-skins; being destitute, afflicted, tormented; they wandered in deserts and mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth.” (Acts xi. 37, 38.) They were imprisoned by hundreds, and hung by scores. Corpses were seen dangling from trees, and the atmosphere itself was tainted with death. The blood-thirsty troopers spared neither age nor sex. The prattling babe and the hoary head were alike disregarded.
The severity of the persecution only madethem cling more closely to their religion, and a mighty army of martyrs went up from Scotland to join the ranks of the great captain of their salvation—Jesus Christ.
The noble courage with whichMargaret Wilsonsuffered death rather than forsake the religion of her childhood, has made her name to be held in lasting remembrance. She was quite young, but showed a degree of calm composure and unshaken faith worthy of much riper years. On being seized by the troopers, she was told that her life would be spared if she would give up her religion. This she positively refused to do, and was sentenced to be drowned. She was alike unmoved by the fierce countenances of the brutal soldiery and their horrible threats. Her heart was fixed. She was as firm as a rock. Finding her still unyielding, she was taken to a place where the Solway overflows twice a day, and securely fastened to a stake fixed in the sand between high and low water mark. Presently the tide commenced coming in. At first it played around her feet; by and by it rose higher and higher; at last the waves approached within a few inches of her lips. Still she remained unmoved. Her unclouded brow looked serene and happy. Her cheek was pale, but not with fear.Her thoughts were wandering by the banks of the river of the Water of Life; she seemed to be listening to the angelic notes of the heavenly choir.
“Will you deny now your religion?” demanded the cruel soldiery.
“No, never; I am Christ’s; let me go,” she gasped out, her voice choked by the gurgling water, and the waves closed over her for the last time.