Sketches of The Covenanters by McFeeters, J. C.
Sketches of The Covenanters by McFeeters, J. C.
Sketches of The Covenanters by McFeeters, J. C.
by J. C. McFeeters
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2
SKETCHES
OF THE
COVENANTERS
BY
MINISTER OF
The Second Church of the Covenanters, Philadelphia,
PREFACE.
This book is a spontaneous growth, being without pre-meditation or original intention. A visit to Scotland was
the embryo; out of this seed sprang a stereopticon lecture on "The Martyrs of Scotland;" the lecture developed
into an illustrated serial which was published in the CHRISTIAN NATION; and the serial, at the request of
many readers, developed into this volume. The book, therefore, was not originally contemplated; it is a
providential growth, rather than a human conception; and we sincerely trust that it is one of God's eternal
thoughts, blossoming in the sunlight of its own appointed time.
May our Lord Jesus Christ add His blessing, and commission these Sketches to do Him service and glorify
His exalted name.
J.C.M.
Philadelphia, March 1, 1913.
SKETCHES 3
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Contents Illustrations
PREFACE. 4
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I.
History yields its best results when we use our best powers in pursuing its paths. Let the creative genius, a
healthy imagination, be employed restoring the scenes of former times, mingling with the people and
participating in their high endeavors; then will the quiet page of history become a world of thrilling activity.
In this manner let us here endeavor to follow the chain of events which gave Scotland two Reformations and a
Revolution. Let us keep our horizon wide by resuscitating the former generations and associating with the
Covenanted fathers, who, in their faithfulness to God and loyalty to Jesus Christ, were like the burning bush,
enswirled with fire but not consumed.
Scotland—the very name awakens fondest memories, revives holiest scenes, makes dearest associations throb
with life. Scotland—charming in her romances of love, mighty in her struggles for freedom, pathetic in her
sufferings for Christ, and glorious in her oft-renewed covenant with God—Scotland in many respects is
incomparable among the nations. The Covenanted Church of Scotland, coming up from the wilderness leaning
upon her Beloved in holy dependence and dauntless faith, while heaven looks down with admiration—how
beautiful, how instructive, how inspiring!
Extending from the north boundary of England, Scotland thrusts her rocky shores with rugged irregularity into
the deep sea on three sides. Her granite cliffs, resisting the ceaseless waves, teach her people the lesson of
constant vigilance and unconquerable courage.
In this country the summer days are long and delightful, the echoes of good-night linger till the voice of
good-morning may be heard. The days almost touch each other, twilight scarcely leaves the sky. The winter
reverses the order, making the path of the sun short and, bringing it down close to the hilltops. The storm
loves the long night; the winds rise and sift the treasures of hail and snow over mountain and meadow.
In the Highlands
These mountainous grounds furnish luxuriant pasture for numerous flocks of sheep. Here is the shepherd's
paradise, who, with his dog and crook, keeps careful watch. While the brow of the mountain is white with
mist, its cheeks are often crimsoned with heather, and its breast verdant with pasture. The associated colors
Many picturesque lochs nestle among the hills, in whose placid waters is mirrored the sky in the brilliant
variations of day and night. Poets and novelists have thrown a charm over these waters, and their shady
isles—and deep coves, relating the stories of love and the tragedies of war. Castles, some in ruins, some in
excellent preservation, dot the country from sea to sea, crowning prominent hill tops, and grimly telling of the
era of savage strife and imperiled life. Splendid cities, thrifty towns, and modest country homes are an index
of the present prosperous and peaceful conditions. The industry, intelligence, and happiness of the people are
everywhere apparent. Numerous churches, schools, and colleges bear testimony to the high tide of Christian
civilization, which, through the labors and fidelity of the fathers, have carried the present generation into
enviable prominence.
The climate is pleasant and healthful. The asperity of winter is softened by the ocean streams coming from the
south; the heat of summer is reduced by the high latitude and the mountains. Withal the Lord has blessed this
celebrated country with rare natural advantages for producing an indomitable and resourceful race. Something
in their environment seems to have given the people more than ordinary qualities of mind and heart. Through
the centuries they listened to the deep music of the sea, gazed upon the majesty of the mountains, meditated
upon the solitude of the moors, kept vigil over their flocks in the fields, laboriously tilled the rugged soil; and
grew solemn, vigorous, magnanimous, and unconquerable; they became a distinguished people.
But above all this, God in the early ages gave them the Scriptures, and the Truth made them free. From the
dawn of the evangelization of Scotland there has ever been a band, and sometimes a host, whose heart God
touched, whose lives He enswathed with the fire of zeal for Christ and His royal rights. They grasped the
meaning of the Word of God, heard His voice calling them into the marvelous light, and lived in the radiance
of His dreadful presence. They stood upon the solid foundation of the infallible Book, and grew solid as the
rocks of granite in their conviction of truth and right. How much of this Scotch granite is apparent in the faith
and firmness of the present generation?
The matchless inheritance we have received from our Covenanted ancestors, an inheritance of truth, liberty,
and high example, should be more inspiring to us than nature's grandest scenery. Our eyes should be open to
the moral significance of present conditions. We should be alive to the weighty obligations transmitted by the
fathers to their children. Filled with the spirit and power of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and enthusiastic in our
work for God, we should throw our strength into the service of our Lord Jesus, striving to bring all people into
Covenant with God. The Covenant relation is the normal state of human society.
6. What moral inheritance did the Covenanted fathers leave their children?
II.
In the first three centuries of the Christian era, the successive persecutions at Rome drove many Christians out
from that Gospel center, to wander in all directions over the world. They suffered banishment for Christ's
sake. In their wanderings they became great missionaries. They loved Jesus more than their lives, and their
religion more than their homes. By them the Gospel was carried to the ends of the earth. It seems that some of
them drifted into Scotland and brought to that land the bright morning of a day that carried storms in its
bosom, and after the storms, peace, quietness, prosperity, Christian civilization—an inheritance of light and
liberty unparalleled in history.
As these witnesses of Jesus told the story of God's love and of Christ's death, the Holy Spirit came down with
power and wrought wondrously upon the people. They readily believed the faithful saying, "Christ Jesus came
into the world to save sinners."
In the later centuries the Gospelized communities developed into an organized Church, with doctrine,
worship, and government based upon God's Word. These primitive Christians were careful to preserve the
apostolic simplicity, purity, manner, and substance, of Divine service. The Infallibility of the Bible, the
Divinity of Christ, the Inspired Psalmody, and the Presbyterian form of government, were fundamentals in the
faith of the Church of Scotland from her youth. She appears exceedingly beautiful in her first love, coming up
from the wilderness with her right hand taking firm hold upon the Lord Jesus Christ, her gracious Redeemer
and mighty Protector.
The Church of Scotland was then known as the Church of the Culdees. They had a flourishing Theological
Seminary on the Isle of Iona. The ruins of it still remain.
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Yet were there always some to resist the cruel conqueror. The excellent of the earth are always to be found at
their unpurchasable value, when mankind is on the market selling cheap. These had the courage to challenge
popes and kings, who dared to assume the power or the prerogatives of Jesus Christ. They believed that Christ
was the Head of the Church, and were willing to yield up their lives rather than their convictions. The doctrine
of Christ's supremacy was incarnated in these worthies, and they became invincible in its defence. As the
granite rocks, beneath whose shelter they worshiped, withstood the blasts of winter, so these insuppressible
men withstood the storms of persecution. The sovereignty of Christ over Church and nation was dearer to
them than life. They saw the glory of God involved in this fundamental truth, also the honor of Jesus Christ,
and the liberty, purity, and permanence of the Church. They counted the pre-eminence of the Lord Jesus
Christ worthy of every sacrifice. They suffered bonds and imprisonment, exile and slavery, torture and death,
for its sake. Their blood watered the moss of the moors and the heather of the mountains. Thousands and tens
of thousands of Scotland's noblest sons and purest daughters gave their lives freely for the contested doctrine
of Christ's crown rights and royal supremacy. As these valiant soldiers of the cross fell, their children arose,
and, grasping the banner of the Covenant crimsoned with the blood of their fathers, carried it defiantly along
the firing line of the fierce battle. The dreadful conflict continued while century followed century.
But the victories of our fathers were not final: they only placed us on vantage ground to continue the struggle,
until the whole world shall be redeemed from every system of false religion and despotic power. Much land
yet remains to be possessed. Animated by their noble example and encouraged by their success, we should
press forward in the same cause, for the glory of Christ and the salvation of souls. How can we hesitate? Great
obligations have descended from the fathers to us as their successors; future generations are dependent on our
faithfulness.
1. Describe the religion that prevailed in Scotland before the Gospel was introduced.
3. What was the success of the Gospel during the early centuries?
7. What was the great doctrine around which the battle was waged?
III.
The providences of God are mysterious. We become mystified and distressed when we ask for reasons. God's
circles are vast; we cannot take in His horizon. We know however that all His works are done in truth and
righteousness. The wheels of Christ's chariot never move backward. In getting over the rough places, progress
may seem to be reversed, yet this is an illusion. In every such case the mysterious operation of providence is
merely preparation for advancement. The great work of redemption goes forward through all stages to
III. 10
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perfection. The storms that dash against the face of spring prevent not the coming of summer with its
abundant harvests and songs of joy.
The light of the Gospel seemed to have been quenched beneath the seething tide of Papal corruption. Still
there were incorruptible men and women here and there, who devoutly worshiped God according to His
Word. Their hearthstone was their church. There may have been many in those days deeply rooted in the faith,
but for most part they remained invisible. To be known as true to Christ imperiled life. Not many had the
courage to publish their convictions. Yet there were some who arose in the majesty of redeemed manhood and
confessed Jesus, testifying to His truth in defiance of the powers of darkness. To them truth was sweeter than
life.
John Resby is on record as one among the first witnesses, who heralded a glorious reformation for Scotland.
He was a voice crying in the wilderness, proclaiming the sovereignty of Christ over the Church and
denouncing the pope who claimed to be the representative of the Lord Jesus. He was quickly silenced by
death at the stake. This occurred in 1407 The spirit of religious liberty was thereby crushed and disappeared
for twenty-five years.
Paul Craw was the next to be lifted into prominence by the power of the Gospel, and thrust into publicity by
the courage of his convictions. The Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon him. His love for the truth of the
Gospel filled him with abhorrence of Roman errors; his pity for souls carried him into the fight for their
freedom. He testified boldly against Papal idolatry, prayer to saints, and the confessional. For this he was
sentenced to suffer in the flames. His martyrdom took place in 1432.
George Wishart.
The light was rising; spring-time was coming, the early rain of God's grace was falling upon Scotland. Godly
lives now sprang up thick as flowers in the meadow. They must be uprooted in bunches, thought the
Romanists, or the people, gaining light, will cast off the Papal religion and be free to worship God according
to His Word. During the next few years many were condemned and executed for their faith.
Helen Stark deserves honorable mention. She and her husband were sentenced to death for their fidelity to
Jesus. She begged for the poor consolation of dying with her husband, pleading that the flames that would
consume his flesh might also consume hers. The privilege was denied. She stood by him while the fire did its
work, and the chariot of flame bore his soul to heaven. She encouraged him to endure bravely and glorify
God. When life had departed from his quivering body, she was pushed aside and hastened to a pond of deep
water. Withdrawing a babe from her warm breast where it would never again rest, she gave it to a woman near
by, resigning it to the loving Father of orphans. She was then
plunged into the water where death quickly ended her sorrows. This martyrdom was in 1543.
George Wishart arose at this time in the spirit and majesty of the Lord Jesus Christ, and displayed the banner
of truth with an invincible faith. His heart was true, pure, fresh, and fragrant as the heart of a rosebud, through
the indwelling Spirit of God. His life was wonderfully attractive. His eloquence was seraphic; his lips had
been touched with a live coal from the altar of God; his soul was aflame with the Gospel. He was animated
with transfiguring revelations of Christ and His redeeming truth. He was a burning and shining light. The light
he shed was too bright to last long in those dangerous times. The cardinal, prelates, and priests consulted for
his overthrow. He fell suddenly into their hands and his death was decreed. To the stake he was hurried where
the flames once more did their work, and another faithful soul appeared before the Throne, washed in the
blood of the Lamb, and arrayed in a white robe, rejoicing in the victory won through Jesus Christ. At the stake
his executioner begged forgiveness. Wishart kissed his cheek, saying, "Go, here is a token that I forgive thee;
do thine office." One standing near said to him, "Be of good courage." He replied, "This fire torments my
body, but in no way abates my spirit." This execution was in 1546.
The success of life is not measured by the years we live, but by loyalty to Jesus Christ and service in the
Gospel; the might of our faith, the healthiness of the soul, the greatness of the heart, and the intensity of the
light shining from a character radiant with the presence and glory of Jesus Christ.
Are we every day trying to make our lives rich, radiant, successful, and certain of reward, through earnest
effort to bring others into the possession of the blessings of the Gospel of Jesus Christ?
4. Give the death scene of John Resby, Paul Craw, Patrick Hamilton, Helen Stark, George Wishart.
5. How may the study of the martyrs' lives purify, strengthen, and ennoble our lives?
IV.
John Knox was then a young man preparing for service in the priesthood of Rome. He had met Wishart and
felt the glow of his warm heart and the power of his inspiring fellowship. He was a man of eminent natural
abilities to which was added a liberal education. He was recognized as one who would be a mighty champion
on whatever side he took his stand. God was rich in mercy to Scotland when He caused the Gospel to shine
into the heart of Knox, giving him "the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ."
His towering intellect, through the study of the Word of God, caught the morning glory of the Reformation,
like a mountain that catches the first rays of the rising sun. He broke all the bonds that bound him to Papacy,
and entered into the liberty of the children of God in the power of the Holy Spirit.
When Knox received his first call to become a pastor, he was overwhelmed with anxiety at the awful
responsibility of preaching the Gospel. He stood in amazement, but dared not refuse. His humility and
self-abasement prepared him, through the grace of the Lord Jesus, for heights of power and honor seldom
reached by ministers. From that crucial day he devoted all the energies of body and soul to the preaching of
the Word of God. His public services covered a quarter of a century.
This mighty man of valor threw himself immediately into the thickest of the fight against Romanism. He
struck at the root of the evil. Instead of skirmishing along the borders about rituals, ceremonies, and
perversion of doctrines, he boldly challenged the Papal system as Antichrist, and the Pope as "The man of
sin." In his estimation the Romish Church was a fallen Church and had become "The Synagogue of Satan."
He entered the field of conflict clad in the armor of God and wielded the sword of the Spirit with precision
and terrible effect. In prayer lay the secret of his power. He knew how to take hold upon God, and prevail like
a prince. The Queen Regent, who in those times mustered the forces of the government at her pleasure, said,
"I am more afraid of the prayers of John Knox than of any army of ten thousand men."
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The very name of Knox was enough to strike terror into the hearts of his enemies. On one occasion, having
been in Geneva for a time, he returned unexpectedly. Just then a number of the Reformed ministers, who had
been arrested for preaching against Popery, were approaching their trial. The court had assembled and were
attending to the preliminaries. Suddenly a messenger rushed into the hall of justice, breathless with haste,
exclaiming, "John Knox! John Knox is come! he slept last night in Edinburgh!" The court was stunned and
immediately adjourned.
The life of Knox was often in danger. Once as he sat in his room reading by candle light a shot was fired at
him from the street through the window. It went harmlessly past him and struck his candle.
He received a request on a certain occasion to preach in a city that was a stronghold of Romanism. He
accepted, glad of the opportunity, knowing also the peril. The archbishop of the city, having an army at his
bidding, sent Knox a warning, saying, that if he preached, the soldiers would receive orders to fire upon him.
His friends urged him not to go. He replied, "As for the fear of danger that may come to me let no man be
solicitous, for my life is in the custody of Him whose glory I seek. I desire the hand and weapon of no man to
defend me. I only crave audience, which, if it be denied here unto me at this time, I must seek farther where I
may have it." He went and preached and returned unharmed. His great courage infused itself into other hearts,
and a multitude of invincible men stood forth with him in the struggle for liberty and conscience, which he so
fearlessly advocated. Every sublime life is a mighty power for the uplifting of others into the same region of
healthy action.
John Knox led the Church in the great struggle for pure doctrine
and worship. The vain heart of man is ever inventing additions
and variations in the services of God's house. Many devices had
been thrust upon the early Church of Scotland. Here we see this
servant of Christ, in the administration of the Lord's Supper,
giving the people the bread and the cup as Jesus directed.
During the lifetime of Knox, the Church of the Reformation grew rapidly and became mighty in numbers and
influence. The first General Assembly was held in 1560, having 6 ministers and 32 other members, 38 in all.
In 1567, just seven years later, the Assembly numbered 252 ministers, 467 readers, and 154 exhorters. This,
too, was in a time of distress the conditions were unfavorable, the opposition was very strong. How account
for the success? "Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord."
The Church contended for the supremacy of the Lord Jesus Christ, even unto death.
The Church pursued unswervingly the course marked out for her in the Word of God, in doctrine, worship,
and discipline, not troubled at the cost nor fearing results.
The Church refused to be guided by human wisdom or temporizing methods, either to win numbers or gain
favor, depending for success upon the wisdom that cometh from above.
The Church sought to glorify God with simplicity of faith, holiness of life, purity of worship, and loyalty to
the Lord Jesus Christ. Hence the invincible energy, the wonderful achievements, the magnificent victories,
and the amazing increase. Would not the Church of Christ take on like activities, proportions, and strength, by
following the same course of fidelity in our own times?
John Knox died in 1572, at the age of 67. His last words were, "Come, Lord Jesus, sweet Jesus; receive my
spirit." His latter end was peace.
Will we strive to emulate Knox in prayer, courage, self-denial, and pure-heartedness? Will not his example be
to us an inspiration to work with faith and might, to build up the Church and enlarge the Kingdom of Christ?
He was great because he was humble and trusted in the Lord. The same way is still open to all who would do
great things for God. Humility, prayer, faith, activity, courage, honor, glory—these are the successive steps
upward. There is yet room in the high places. Knox's place seems to be vacant. Who will fill it? What an
opportunity for young men to bring their noblest powers into action!
6. Tell how the Church prospered during his ministry; explain the cause.
V.
During these times the Church was found chiefly in groups of Christians who met secretly for prayer. A
company of devout believers came together to spend the evening hours, or the Sabbath day, in the worship of
God. The meeting was called a Society. In these places prayer was offered in faith, the Psalms were sung with
grave melody, and the Bible was read with reverence. These hungry souls fed upon the Word. Sometimes the
meetings were held in caves for fear of the enemy. Once a minister, being pursued, entered one of these caves
for safety. As he sat down in its shelter, he was surprised at hearing soft melody farther back in that dark
retreat. Following the sound of the voices he found a company of devout worshipers.
In those troublous times the Holy Spirit, in His own mysterious way, electrified the hearts of these hidden
ones with the thought of Covenanting with each other and with God, to stand for life, liberty, and religion. A
day was set and a place appointed for entering into the holy bond. Notwithstanding the danger incurred, a
large concourse of people assembled and solemnly entered into the Covenant. This occurred in the city of
Edinburgh, December 3, 1557. This Covenant embodied their purpose, thus, "We by His grace, shall, with all
diligence, continually apply our whole power, substance, and our very lives, to maintain, set forward, and
establish the most blessed Word of God and His Church." This is known as The First Covenant of Scotland.
Two years later, another bond of agreement was subscribed, on behalf of the Church, by her most prominent
leaders, which was called The Second Covenant.
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The First Covenant was a formidable bulwark of defence against Papacy. The young Protestant Church found
in it a strong tower. The battle grew fiercer. Many of the nobles joined the Covenanted ranks. Two years later
this Covenant was renewed and the cause gained great strength. Among other leaders Lord James Stuart, the
queen's brother, subscribed. He was a daring defender of the Reformed faith. He stood as a wall of adamant
between the Reformation and his sister, Mary, Queen of Scots, who employed the government and army to
destroy it. After her overthrow he became regent, ruling the nation with kingly power and extraordinary
ability, having the fear of God and the welfare of the people at heart. His home was like a sanctuary; the fire
burned on the family altar, the Bible was read at the table, the beauty of holiness graced the household. In
history he is known as Lord Murray, the "Good Regent." He was assassinated by an ingrate, whom he had
pardoned and saved from execution. Much credit for the First Reformation must be given to Murray in the
State and Knox in the Church, each peerless in his place. In their day the Church became an organized power
and assumed the appearance of "an army with banners." The First General Assembly met in Edinburgh,
December 20, 1560. The purpose was, "To consult upon those things which are to forward God's glory and
the well-being of His Kirk." The glory of God! the honor of Christ! the exaltation of the supreme Name! that
is the purpose that sends fire through the veins and sweeps the soul with holy flames. Give this its true place,
and the best work of life will be done. Then did the Church arise and shine in the glory of the Lord. Then did
she develop in size, strength, and courage, as in the days of the apostles. Seven years later when the General
Assembly met, the members numbered 773, with a prosperous Church of proportionate size. The Reformers
entered into the work of the Lord with heartiness and reaped a plentiful harvest.
The high principles governing the First General Assembly are seen in the effort to preserve the purity of the
young Church, springing up under the care of these "valiant men of Israel." One of the first steps taken was
the appointment of a committee to prepare a Book of Discipline. These devout men copied from no existing
form of Church government. They did not draw even upon Holland or Geneva for resources. They went
directly to the Word of God, as the fountain of all knowledge for the task on hand. They took counsel and
instruction from God in prayer, placed mind and heart under the guiding power of the Holy Spirit. The book
that came forth was such as we would expect at the hands of such men, working with such spirit and purpose.
Its statements were truth; its rules were wisdom; its censures were a sword; its authority was Christ. The
General Assembly adopted it. However, it was not in favor with all. Its standard of doctrine and discipline was
too high to please some. Knox gives the reason: "Everything that impugned their corrupt affections was
mockingly termed 'devout imaginations.' The cause was, some were licentious, some had greedily gripped the
possessions of the Church, and others thought they would not lack their part of Christ's coat." Discipline was
applied to the Church according to the book. The unworthy were suspended, and those who failed to measure
up to the standard of knowledge, character, and spiritual life, were refused. Could there be a clearer
demonstration of the power of the Holy Spirit and the presence of Jesus Christ, than the discipline that
removed the unworthy and refused the unfit, when the Church was so weak in number and assailed by hordes
of enemies? Yet during the first seven years of this Book of Discipline, the General Assembly grew from 6 to
252 ministers, and the Church in the same marvelous proportion. Behold God's seal placed on strict discipline.
There is power in purity; vitality depends much on sanitation.
The Public School system is the offspring of Protestantism. The human mind, when liberated by the Gospel of
Jesus Christ, aspires after education, as the eagle soars into the upper air when set free from its cage. Freedom
in Christ Jesus awakens consciousness of rights, powers, privileges, obligations, and the immeasurable
boundaries of mind and spirit. With such breathings and aspirations these Presbyterian fathers planted free
schools over their country and set the example for the world. The General Assembly authorized a school for
every "parish", and made attendance imperative. The children of the poor were instructed free, the rich
contributed support. The studies covered "religion, grammar, and Latin." Also in every "notable town, a
college was to be erected for instruction in logic, rhetoric, and the learned languages." Such was the work of
the General Assembly in the year of our Lord 1561. Our system of Public Schools is but the extension of the
orchard these fathers planted, in their far-reaching plans and great-hearted purposes.
Such were some of the steps taken by the fathers, in the Church of Scotland, at the dawn of the First
Reformation. They were master builders in laying foundation stones. They were preparing for the onward
movement, which gave to the world the most brilliant example of Church and State in Covenant with God.
The like has not been witnessed since the days of Jesus of Nazareth. These beginnings were the stately
steppings of God within His sanctuary. The Lord raised up men after His own heart, and empowered them by
the Holy Spirit to perform this stupendous task. They were men of like passions with others, yet possessing
the rare quality of an inviolate conscience. They were governed by principle, not expediency; were guided by
truthfulness, not diplomacy; consulted God's law, not convenience; accepted duty at God's command, not at
man's dictate. Not all who were enrolled in the Church stood the test; some grew faint and fell back from the
firing line. But enough were ever there to glorify God and do His service at any cost. Scotland's First
Reformation reached its climax in 1567.
The diligence and success of the fathers in the Lord's work should inspire us to do the best within our power
for the enlargement of the Church. Are we building, as they built, upon the true foundation, which is Jesus
Christ? Is our building material like theirs—gold, silver, and precious stones? Are we zealous in making the
Church of Christ appear the glorious Temple of truth, the Sanctuary of the living God, the Habitation of the
Holy Spirit? Are we so consumed with the holy passion of love, that we cannot rest till we bring others into
the house of God? Are we worthy of our relation to the Covenanted fathers?
VI.
Hitherto the Church had been as a lily among thorns: now instead of thorns were fir trees, and instead of
briers, myrtle trees, to the glory of the Lord, who is wonderful in counsel and excellent in working.
Among the matchless sayings of Jesus, one specific word resounds through all the ages and falls upon
listening ears like thunder from heaven: "WATCH". Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty, the price of
purity, the price of honor, the price of every thing worth having. The young Church, vigorous, victorious, and
enthusiastic, seems to have been off her guard at a critical moment and while she slept the enemy sowed tares
among the wheat.
The regent, the person who was acting as king while the coming king was a child, called a convention of
ministers and others who favored the king's supremacy over the Church. The convention at his dictation
introduced Prelacy. This occurred on January 12, 1572, a dark day for Scotland.
Prelacy is little else than Popery modified; Popery in another dress, trained and taught to speak a softer
dialect. The power of Popery had been broken, but the residuum still remained, and now there appeared "the
strange heterogeneous compound of Popery, Prelacy, and Presbyterianism" in the Church.
The Church awoke to find herself in the grasp of a horrible octopus, from which she did not escape for three
generations, and only then at the loss of much precious blood.
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The first effort of the Church, when awakened to her real condition, was to control the bishops that had come
into her ministry, and whom she was powerless to remove. The next step was to attempt their removal, on the
ground that the office of the bishop was unscriptural. Difficulties rapidly increased; opposing forces were
daily growing stronger; the Civil government was against the Church; the regent, Scotland's chief ruler, bent
all his energies in the defence of the bishops. From whence shall light and deliverance now come? Listen to
the words that seem to be on ten thousand lips: "The Covenants; the Covenants shall be Scotland's reviving!"
"The Covenants" now became the watchword of the faithful. A wave of hopefulness and enthusiasm spread
over the Church; gladness wreathed the faces that had gathered blackness, and strength throbbed in hearts that
were faint.
The General Assembly, given strength from the Lord for the occasion, adopted a form of Covenant for the
nation. The Covenant, as written by Rev. John Craig, was the product of a cultured brain and pious heart. It is
unsurpassed in clear diction, high purpose, majestic spirit, heroic decision, and solemn appeal to God. It
became the ground-work of all Scotland's subsequent Covenants.
But Craig had to meet the test of faith required by his own Covenant. King James VI., who was now on the
throne, after subscribing the bond, repudiated it, and commanded its author to do the same. Craig replied that
he would never repudiate anything approved by the Word of God. The Court, in which he was on trial,
ordered his head to be shaved, and other indignities to be done to his person.
Again when on trial he was treated with utmost contempt by his judge, to whom he said, "There have been as
great men set up higher than thou, that have been brought low." The judge, mockingly, sat down at his feet,
saying, "Now I am humbled." "Nay," said Craig, "mock God's servants as thou wilt, God will not be mocked,
but shall make thee find it in earnest, when thou shalt be cast down from the high horse of thy pride." A few
years later he was thrown from his horse and killed.
The fervor aroused by the Covenant swept the Church like a Pentecostal fire, and spread over all the kingdom
as a storm of holy excitement. The Covenant bond, being signed by the king, the nobles, and a great multitude
of people, was called, The First National Covenant of Scotland.
No greater event had ever stirred the kingdom, no deeper joy had lighted up her coasts, no higher honor had
exalted her people, no brighter glory had overspread her mountains and moors. That holy Covenant had lifted
her into relationship with God; the kingdom had become Hephzibah, and the land, Beulah; the nation was
married to the Lord.
The Covenant bound the Covenanter, the Church, the nation, and posterity, under a solemn oath,—
To adhere to the Reformed religion with all the heart through all time to come;
To labor with all lawful means to recover the purity and liberty of the Gospel, by removing all human
innovations from the Church;
To resist under the oath of God all the evils and corruptions contrary to the Reformed religion;
To defend the country and support the government, while country and government defend and preserve true
religion;
To stand in mutual defence of one another in maintaining the Gospel and the Reformed Church;
To permit nothing to divide the Covenanted ranks, or diminish their power, or swerve them from their high
purpose;
To become good examples of Godliness, soberness, and righteousness in the performance of every duty due to
God and man;
To fear none of the foul aspersions that may be cast upon this Covenant, seeing it is warranted by the Word of
God, and is for the maintenance of His Church;
To recognize the LIVING GOD as the Searcher of hearts, and Jesus Christ as the Judge, before whom all shall
stand in judgment.
Melville sent the truth, like a lancet, into the inflated ambition of the young king. He winced in the agony of
the keen surgery. But Melville had to meet the consequences of his faithfulness. He was taken to the tower of
London, where he lay in a dismal cell four years. He was afterward banished and died in a strange land.
This Covenant of 1851 placed posterity, equally with the Covenanters of that day, in oath-bound relation to
God. A Public Covenant with God continues in its moral obligation until its terms are fulfilled. Are we lifting
up our lives into relationship with our Lord Jesus Christ through our inherited Covenant? Are we fulfilling our
sworn duties to our country, our Church, and our Lord? Are we using all lawful means to cause true religion
to prevail? Are we employing our strength against all opposing evils? Are we keeping step in the Covenanted
ranks that are marching on, assured that the principles of the Reformation will yet prevail in every land?
VII.
The clear sky, however, soon gathered blackness. The first cloud was, in size, and in cunning, too, as a man's
hand. The national government had condemned Popery as a religion, and had confiscated the vast wealth
which the priesthood had amassed and had long enjoyed. This immense property, including rich revenues,
large buildings, broad fields, and annual harvests, was held for distribution. How shall it be distributed? That
was the burning question of the day, and it started a conflagration in the Church, that kindled many a fire at
the stake. The Civil court decided that one-sixth should be given to the Church. The Church accepted the
allowance. It was a sweet morsel in her mouth; but bitter, oh, how bitter in her bowels!
Regent Morton held the reins of government at that time. That cunning ruler in bestowing this gift expected
large returns. If the Church get gold at his hand, she must make concessions on his demand. From that day the
Covenanted Church was in trouble. She was compelled to keep up a constant warfare for her heaven-given
independence, a bitter fight at the cost of much blood for the right of self-government under her Lord. The
Bride of the Son of God had linked arms with an earthly suitor, and leaned on him for support, to her shame
and sorrow. The Church of Christ, free-born and independent, endued with divine power, enriched with the
indwelling Spirit, and sufficiently resourceful for all conditions and obligations, now depended on the State
for financial help. The mistake grew more evident, and its correction more difficult, as time rolled on.
The sovereignty of Jesus Christ is one of the cardinal doctrines of Presbyterianism. Christ in this form of
Church government is glorified as Lord over all, and blessed forever. Enthroned on the right hand of the
Majesty on high, He rules over a dominion whose limits include the utmost bounds of creation. On earth He
has organized the Church, of which He is the only Head and King. He has also established the State, of which
He is both King and Judge. The Church and State under Jesus Christ are mutually independent; each should
be cordial and co-operative with the other; both are directly accountable to the Lord Jesus Christ.
Morton saw his opportunity when the Church took the money. In those days the ruler of Scotland insisted on
being recognized as the head of the Church. Morton put forth his claim of control; the faithful ministers of
Christ resisted. Since the reign of Henry VIII., the Episcopal Church has acknowledged the reigning sovereign
as supreme in her government. In this position the ruler can use the Church as an arm of his government, a
handmaid in his administration, an instrument in carrying out his designs, an ally in supporting whatsoever
may originate in his heart.
Morton attempted to introduce Episcopacy into the General Assembly. Even there he found some ready to do
his bidding; and thus began the long controversy between Presbyterianism and Episcopacy. The struggle of
Protestantism with Romanism had well-nigh disappeared; the fight was now between the Presbyterian and the
Episcopalian.
Morton's leaven quickly did its work; the Assembly became deeply infected. For more than an hundred years
the terrible struggle continued. In the early years of this fierce conflict, Andrew Melville, mighty in the power
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of Jesus, stood in the forefront of the battle. Melville was scholarly, intrepid, adventurous, highly emotional,
and vehement in the cause of the Church's independence. He had some sharp encounters with Morton. Morton
in a rage said to him one day, "The country will never be in quietness till half a dozen of you be hanged or
banished." Melville, looking him in the face with his piercing eyes, replied, "Tush, man, threaten your
courtiers after that manner. It is the same to me whether I rot in the air or in the ground. The earth is the
Lord's. My country is wherever goodness is. Let God be glorified, it will not be in your power to hang or exile
His truth." Morton felt himself outdared and outdone by the courage and calmness of this humble servant of
Christ.
Andrew Melville was able to stand before the king because he habitually stood
before God. He was wise and strong to give advice and warning in the name of
Christ to the sovereign of the nation, because he took his orders from Jesus
Christ, the KING OF KINGS and LORD OF LORDS. He was banished for his
faithfulness, and died in France, in 1622, being 77 years old.
Morton resigned the regency in 1578, to make way for James VI. to ascend the throne, who continued the war
against the Presbyterians. He asserted that his crown depended on the office of the bishop. "No bishop, no
king," was his motto. He aspired to become dictator to the Church. The General Assembly resisted his claim.
A delegation was sent to the king with a strong remonstrance against his tyrannic course. Melville was a
member of the delegation, and his energetic spirit constituted him speaker. The delegation appeared in the
royal court where the king sat among his advisers. The remonstrance was read; it filled the king with rage.
"Who dare subscribe this treasonable paper?" was asked. "We dare," replied Melville, taking hold of the pen
and calmly writing his name. The others followed the bold example. The king and his company were
overawed by their holy bravery.
At another time Melville became so animated in his remonstrance against the despotic monarch, that he took
hold of his arm, and gave him an admonition such as few kings have ever heard. His passionate eloquence
flowed in a torrent: "I must tell you, Sir, there are two kings, and two kingdoms in Scotland. There is King
James VI., head of the commonwealth; and there is Christ Jesus, the King of the Church, whose subject King
Melville suffered for his faithfulness; he was banished. Yet he was rewarded with a green old age and a
triumphant death. At the age of sixty-eight he wrote from the land of his exile, "I thank God, I eat, I drink, I
sleep, as well as I did thirty years bygone, and better than when I was young. My heart is yet a Scotch heart,
and as good, or better than ever, both toward God and man. The Lord only be praised for this, to whom
belongs all glory." He died in France in 1622.
The supremacy of Christ is the glory of the Church. Jesus is the Fountain-Head of life, love, law, government,
and authority. Are we maintaining this exalted truth with the courage of our ancestors? The zeal of our fathers,
if revived in these days, would electrify the world.
4. How did the state make use of Episcopacy in the battle with Presbyterianism?
5. How did Melville resist the king's attempt to rule the Church?
7. What need now to advocate the supremacy of Jesus, and the independence of the Church?
VIII.
The Church has always had mighty men willing to venture their lives, when religion and liberty were
attacked; but at no time has there gone forth a more illustrious band whose heart God touched, than in the last
years of the Sixteenth century. The tide of defection was then rolling in upon the Church with desolating
violence. The truth of Christ's supremacy was being submerged beneath the waves of Episcopacy. The right of
Christ to rule His Church was disputed by King James, and claimed as his own prerogative. The true servants
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of God writhed in shame and sorrow, as they saw the diadem of Christ snatched from His brow and clutched
by a presumptuous man. The times demanded men who would not quail in the presence of the sceptered
monarch; or at his threats of imprisonment, banishment and death. The soldiers of the cross stepped forth. The
"threescore valiant men of the valiant of Israel" were there, standing about the KING OF KINGS; "every man
with his sword on his thigh, because of fear in the night."
Edinburgh Castle.
John Davidson also shines in history as a minister of dauntless courage. He breasted the destructive flood of
declension, and endured the buffeting of the waves. His humility prepared him for great service in the
kingdom of God. He was deeply grieved by reason of the loose doctrines and practices prevailing within the
John Welch, too, is found in the front ranks of the Church's noblest defenders. His wife, Elizabeth, daughter of
John Knox, was his equal in courage and steadfastness. His life caught high inspiration from her faith, and her
heart gloried in his heroic spirit; the two mountains were alike high.
King James had determined to crush the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church. That Assembly stood
in his way as he strode toward despotic power. He must remove the hindrance, or fail in his ambition. He
commanded the Assembly to hold no more meetings, except by his permission. Against his royal decree, a
few bold-hearted men met on the first Tuesday of July, 1605. This was the last free General Assembly for a
whole generation. In 1618 this court of God's house disappeared altogether under the king's despotic rule, till
1638, when Scotland arose once more in the power of the Lord, and renewed her Covenant.
John Welch was one of the few ministers who braved the king's wrath, and approved of the forbidden
meeting. Within a month he was in jail. The place of his detention was called "Blackness." In his little cell,
damp, dark, foul, and lonely, he had time to reflect. He remembered his happy home, faithful wife, loving
children, garden walks, sweet sunshine, soft breezes, pleasant Sabbaths, inspiring pulpit, glowing
audience—he could now think of all, and see the cost of fidelity to Jesus. Did it pay? He could lay his aching
head on its hard pillow, and dream of the happiness that was gone, and awaken to ask if it had been worth
while. Did it pay to be true to Christ? Listen; he speaks from his prison: "We have ever been waiting with
joyfulness to give the last testimony of our blood to Christ's crown, scepter, and kingdom."
Welch found his great strength in prayer. Prayer to him was conversation with God. His soul was familiar
with Jesus. He often arose from his bed to talk with God. He kept a shawl at hand, when at home, to cast over
his shoulders during these rapturous hours. In the summer nights he spent much time under the trees in
communing with the Lord of heaven. To him the stars lost their brilliancy in the presence of the Bright and
Morning Star. His soul took many a bath in the ocean of eternal light. On one occasion his wife listened to his
mysterious talk with God. He was in the agony of earnestness. "Lord, wilt not Thou give me Scotland?" he
cried. Then followed the outpouring of contentment: "Enough, Lord, enough." At another time, the awful
glory of the Lord was let in upon his soul, till he called out, "O Lord, hold Thy hand; it is enough; Thy servant
is a clay vessel and can hold no more."
Mrs. Welch was as heroic as her husband. When she pleaded with the king for his release, he consented, on
condition that Welch would recede from his position. Mrs. Welch, lifting up her apron in the presence of the
king, replied, "Please, your majesty, I would rather kep his head here!" referring to the axeman's block, and
the head rolling from it into her apron.
The sovereignty of Jesus calls for heroic lives. This royal truth, defended by the fathers, at the cost of much
blood, must yet be lifted up in the sight of the world. Brave men and women are needed now as much as ever,
even those who count the honor of Jesus worth more than life, yea, more precious than all that the heart holds
dear on earth.
IX.
"No bishop, no king," cried King James. He evidently meant, "No Prelacy, no despotism." He made the
Prelatic form of Church government, of which he was the recognized head, the bulwark of his assumed
supremacy over the Church and his tyranny over conscience, and took every occasion to assert his power.
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The form of worship was changed; human devices, in place of God's appointments flooded the Church.
Departure from the old ways was especially marked by a measure known as the "Five Articles of Perth."
These were sanctioned by the king, and rigorously enforced in his effort to subdue all who resisted or
protested. Henceforth Presbyterians had to conform to the new mode of worship, or feel the weight of the law
in confiscation, imprisonment, banishment, or death.
These Articles of Perth were sanctioned by the Parliament. This act of ratification was accompanied by a
remarkable demonstration of Providence. Parliament was then evidently carrying out the will of the king, for
the subversion of the Presbyterian Church, the Reformed religion, the liberty of conscience, and the rights of
the people. Parliament met for this purpose in Edinburgh, August 4, 1621. The morning was gloomy. With the
advancing hours the clouds grew denser and darker; the whole sky became covered with blackness; a storm of
divine wrath seemed to bend the very heavens with its weight. Just at the moment when the Marquis of
Hamilton, performing the final act of ratification in the name of the king, touched the official paper with the
scepter, a streak of lightning blazed through the gloom, and another, and a third, blinding the guilty men in the
These were the days of Melville, Welch, and Boyd, who, with other men, mighty in the Lord, withstood the
king to his face, and the government with its threats and penalties. When the Church was in jeopardy, the Lord
Jesus Christ had His chosen servants, able and willing to defend the faith. Like the prophets of old, they lifted
up their voices in the high places, wrestled with principalities and powers, uttered their testimony as with the
voice of thunder, and cheerfully sealed their testimony with their blood.
Among the champions of that day, Robert Bruce, an eminent minister of the Gospel, took his place in the
thickest of the fight. He was a large man, dignified and commanding in appearance; the countenance,
physique, intellect, and spirit denoting true kingliness and strength. He may have been a descendant of his
famous namesake, Robert Bruce, one of Scotland's great kings; his heart was just as heroic and patriotic. This
soldier of the cross was strong because he lived in the bosom of God's love; his life was fragrant with heaven's
atmosphere. He had a keen conscience. When urged to accept the ministry he at first refused, but that refusal
caused such remorse that he said, he would rather walk through half a mile of burning brimstone than have the
mental agony repeated.
Bruce, during his early ministry, was greatly beloved by the king. Such was his delight in him that he was
chosen to anoint the king's bride and place the crown on her head. Three years after this pleasant event he
incurred the king's wrath by discountenancing his majesty's authority over the Church. Being commanded to
perform a certain service in the pulpit he resolutely refused. To forfeit thus the royal good will, and take the
risk of consequences, required courage of the highest type. But Bruce was a man of public spirit and heroic
mind, equal to the occasion, through the abiding Spirit of God, that wrought mightily in him.
When matters were going from bad to worse, in his relation to the king, he attended a meeting with a few
other ministers, contrary to the king's proclamation, to take counsel concerning the Church. A delegation was
appointed at this meeting to wait on the king, and urge their plea for relief. Bruce was the spokesman. The
king received the delegates, but listened with impatience. He was in bad humor; anger flushed his face. "How
durst you convene against my proclamation?" he said. "We dare more than that, and will not suffer religion to
be overthrown," was the swift reply. Bruce, after this interview, quickly felt the power of the law. His
property was seized; he was driven from home; and, on permission to return, was required to cease preaching.
This he refused to do, finally consenting to quit for ten days. That night he fell into a fever, and suffered such
terrors of conscience, that he resolved that he would die ere he would make a promise like that again.
Bruce's strength lay in his familiarity with Jesus Christ. His preaching was with power, because Christ was
with him. On one occasion, being late for the service, a certain person reported, saying, "I think he will not
come to-day, for I overheard him in his room say to another, 'I protest I will not go unless thou goest with
me.'" He was talking with Jesus about going to preach. In his prayers he was brief, but "every word was as a
bolt shot to heaven;" and in preaching he was slow and solemn, but "every sentence was as a bolt shot from
heaven." He, having finished his work, entered into glory, saying pleasantly to his children, as the dying hour
drew near, "I have breakfasted with you this morning, and I shall sup with my Lord Jesus Christ this night."
That night he entered the heavenly city.
They who are truly alive to the holiness, justice, and goodness of God, and dwell in the radiance of His
blessed face, will get views of the Church and her mission, that will inspire to greatest service and noblest
sacrifices for Christ and His cause. They will arise far above ordinary life, in effort, enthusiasm, power, and
stability in the Lord's work.
3. In what way did the king authorize that which corrupted Church services?
X.
God has good reason for sending upon His Church periodical trials, hardships, persecutions—storms that
winnow the wheat, fires that melt the gold. Such tests of faith purify the Church, run off the dross, throw out
the counterfeits, break off the dead branches. The people of God are then distinguished; their heroic qualities
are called into action; they become burning and shining lights in the surrounding darkness. This severe
process may reduce the enrollment, yet it mightily strengthens the ranks. The Lord Jesus would rather have
one of ten if true, than all the ten yea, ten times ten if untrue. Christ Jesus prefers 300 who can wield the
sword of the Lord and of Gideon, to 30,000 who are indifferent or faint-hearted.
The Presbyterian Church made great progress under the Covenant of 1581 and overspread the kingdom. After
ten years of prosperity came another declension. Again she was reclaimed and revived by the renewing of the
Covenant of 1596. Once more she became exceedingly prosperous and popular; but her popularity resulted in
weakness. Multitudes "joined the Church" merely for place, privilege, and power. These soon made
themselves felt on the wrong side: they controlled the courts of God's House. Faithful ministers contended for
the truth, resisted the innovations, protested in the name of Jesus, and suffered because they would not consent
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to do evil. They were overpowered and sometimes were displaced, sometimes imprisoned, sometimes
banished. Their farewell sermons were heart-rending. Amid the sobs and wails of the affectionate people, the
farewell exhortations came from these devoted men of God as words from heaven. Great excitement and
sorrow prevailed in the churches, as the stricken congregations took leave of the pastors who loved the truth
more than their own lives. Who can wonder at the indignation that arose like a storm, as the congregation
witnessed their beloved pastor and his wife and children leave their home, and go forth to wander under the
skies of summer or through the storms of winter, not knowing whither they were going! Should the people be
censured for nailing the church doors against intruding ministers, and refusing to hear the hirelings sent to fill
the pulpit against their will?
The Five Articles of Perth, adopted by those who were in power in the Church and enforced by Civil law,
became the pastor's test. The Presbyterian minister who would not approve of the Five Articles was deposed.
But how could a Covenanter give his approval without perjury? The Five Articles of Perth were these:
Observance of Holidays;
Episcopal Confirmation;
Private Baptism;
Private Communion.
The first implied the worship of the bread; the second, the homage of saints; the third, the approval of Prelacy;
the fourth, that baptism was necessary to salvation; and the fifth, that the communion opened heaven to the
dying; all savored of Popery.
Alexander Henderson.
David Dickson was one of the ministers who had strength to endure, rather than bend. He was a young man
full of fire and holy power. He had charge of a flourishing congregation at Irvine. His preaching swayed the
people. They crowded the church to hear him. His appeals melted the heart and watered the cheeks. He was
bold to denounce the Articles of Perth. The authorities called him up and commanded him to retract; he
refused. A sad farewell to his flock followed. Rather than support error, however popular and profitable, he
would sacrifice the dearest ties on earth and journey to parts unknown. And this he did.
Alexander Henderson, another minister, encountered the displeasure of the men in power and suffered much
at their hands. In his early life he accepted the Prelatic creed and entered the ministry in favor with the party.
He was sent to a church which, a short time previous, had experienced the violent removal of their beloved
pastor. The people were indignant at Henderson's coming. They barricaded the door of the church. The
delegates that had come to ordain him, not being able to effect an entrance through the door, entered by a
window. Henderson was that day settled as the pastor of an absent congregation. In the lapse of time he won
the people. He was faithful and powerful as a preacher of the Word, and the Lord Jesus honored him in the
eyes of large audiences.
One day Henderson went to hear a Covenanted minister, Robert Bruce, at a communion. He was shy and
concealed himself in a dark corner of the church. Mr. Bruce took for his text, "He that entereth not by the door
into the sheepfold, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber." The minister having
read his text paused, and in dignified posture, with head erect, scanned his congregation with eyes that
gleamed with holy fire. Such was his custom before beginning his sermon. Henderson felt the blaze of those
eyes. He seemed to be the very man for whom they were searching. The recollection of having entered upon
his ministry by climbing through a window horrified him. He went from that meeting determined to
investigate Prelacy in the light of the Scriptures. The result was conviction of the truth and conversion to the
Covenanted cause. Deportation from his devoted flock quickly followed. He was thereafter found in the
forefront of the fight against the supremacy of the king over the Church, and against Prelacy that upheld the
king in his arrogant assumption of the royal prerogative of the Lord Jesus Christ.
The minister of Christ is the watchman of the Church. He is placed upon Zion's walls to sound an alarm at the
approach of danger. He is charged with responsibility for the people. If they perish through his neglect to give
warning of dangers, his life for theirs. Faithful preaching may not be pleasant or profitable to the minister.
Declaring the whole counsel of God may involve the pastor in trouble, demand sacrifices, result in hardships,
controversies, separations; yet the Lord requires it, the people need it, no safety without it for either the flock
or the shepherd. Without fidelity no power with God, no comfort of the Spirit, no approval from Christ. Are
they who serve as ministers of Christ willing to sacrifice ministerial support, relationship, popularity,
applause—everything temporal, rather than one jot or one tittle of the truth of the Gospel of Jesus Christ?
XI.
Covenanted Presbyterianism has always stood for liberty, conscience, enlightenment, progress, and exalted
manhood, resisting all tyrants and oppressors. Presbyterianism recognizes as the crowning glory of man, his
relation to God, all men alike being subjects of His government and accountable at His throne; all being under
law to God and under law to no man, except in the Lord. Presbyterianism honors every honest man as a real
king, clothed with innate majesty, crowned with native dignity, and exalted far above the conventional office
of earth's highest monarch. Yet does Presbyterianism sustain all rightful rulers as ministers of God, and enjoin
upon all people submission in the Lord.
In the beginning of 1625, while the snow was yet mantling the mountains in white, the symbol of moral purity
and goodness, the king was grimly planning to debase and corrupt the best people in his realms. He gave
orders to celebrate Easter with a Communion according to the Articles of Perth, announcing a severe penalty
against all who would not comply. The decree was not enforced, for the Lord came suddenly to the unhappy
monarch, saying, "Thy soul is required of thee." Easter came with its soft winds and opening buds, its singing
brooks and flowery nooks, but King James was not there; the Judge had called him, death had conquered him,
the grave had swallowed him; his miserable life was broken off under sixty years of age; and after death,
eternity; the long, long eternity.
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His Son, Charles I., inherited the father's troubled kingdom, despotic principles, and wilful doggedness. The
young ruler began his reign by breathing out threatenings against the Covenanters. Yet the Lord in many ways
strengthened His people. He gave them at this time some remarkable Communions and memorable seasons of
refreshing. He pitied them for they were nearing the fiery trials that would try their faith to the utmost. To
prepare them for the testing times. He led them up into the mountain of His loving favor and gave them
another memorable privilege of renewing their Covenant.
John Livingston, an honored minister of Jesus Christ, was of great service to the Church at this time. He
preached Christ and his contested truths with power and striking effect. He stood in the strength and majesty
of the Chief Shepherd and fed the flock given into his care. This flock was very large. Multitudes gathered
about him waiting for the Word at his lips; the church could not hold them. God gave the people spiritual
hunger that brought them from afar; they came over the hills and along the vales, converging upon the place
of worship as doves fly to their windows. They journeyed solemnly from their homes to the House of God,
both in the calm of summer and in the storms of winter. They came in the dew of the morning and tarried till
protected by the gloaming. Men and women, old and young, gathered around this man of God who ministered
comfort, strength, and eternal life, through Jesus Christ, with wonderful power and grace unto their troubled
souls.
Our Monday service of the Communion originated under Mr. Livingston. The Sacrament of the Lord's Supper
had been administered to a large congregation. The preaching and serving of tables filled the long summer
Sabbath. It was June 20, 1630. The great congregation had come with souls lifted up to God in prayer; the
church was not large enough to hold the people, and the churchyard was filled with devout worshipers. They
sat upon the grass like the thousands that were fed by Christ in the days of old. The soft wind blew upon them
as it listed, and the Holy Spirit, too, came with mysterious power; the vast assembly was deeply moved. The
long Sabbath was followed by a short night. Monday came, and the people, having been profoundly affected
by the services of the preceding day, were again early on the grounds. They felt that they could not separate
without another day of worship—a day of thanksgiving to the Lord for the wondrous revelations of His
love at His holy table. Mr. Livingston was constrained to preach, and that day proved to be the great day of
the feast. An unusual awe fell upon the preacher and his hearers; the Holy Spirit wrought marvelously,
melting the hearts of the vast congregation and filling them with comfort, strength, and thankfulness.
The day for testing the Liturgy arrived. Attention was chiefly concentrated upon the Church of St. Giles at
Edinburgh. The large auditorium was filled with Presbyterians who were accustomed to worship God in the
plain, solemn manner of the apostles. The suspense preceding the service was painful. Each heart was beating
fast, repressed emotion was at white heat, the atmosphere was full of electricity, no one could tell where the
fiery point would first appear. At length the dean stood in the pulpit before the gaze of his insulted audience.
He opened the new book and began. That was enough, the spark struck the powder, the explosion was sudden.
Jean Geddes, a woman whose name is enshrined in history, and whose stool is a souvenir in the
museum,—Jean, impelled by a burst of indignation, bounced from her seat and flung her stool at the
dean's head, crying with a loud voice, "Villain, dost thou say mass at my lug?" The unpremeditated deed acted
as a signal; the whole congregation was immediately in an uproar; the dean fled and the service came to an
undignified conclusion.
The indignation manifested itself in many other places that Sabbath. In the Greyfriars' Church, there were
deep sobs, bitter crying, and wails of lamentation. Over the entire kingdom the excitement was intense. The
Do the children of these Covenanters appreciate the value and power of the truth? Have the fundamental
principles of the kingdom of Jesus Christ become incarnated in our lives? Do the doctrines of the Word
circulate in the blood, throb in the heart, flash in the eye, echo in the voice, and clothe the whole person with
strength and dignity? Is the Covenant of these ancestors a living bond that binds the present generation to
God, through which His energy, sympathy, purity, life, love, and glory descend upon us in continual streams
of refreshing? Then will our mission on earth be fulfilled, our work in the Church will be blessed, our
testimony for the Lord will be powerful, and our efforts to win others for Christ will be fruitful.
5. How did God prepare His Church for the approaching trials?
XII.
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Terrible as an army with banners! The Church is mighty to subdue the strongholds of Satan; powerful in the
use of spiritual weapons; invincible in the presence of her enemies. She fights the battles of her Lord, and
though often defeated, moves steadily forward assured of final victory. How terrible her warfare in the sight
of enemies! how admirable in the eyes of heaven!
The first impressive demonstration of numbers, power, and resolution, given by the Church of Scotland, was
in 1637. The king and his advisers had attempted to force upon the Presbyterians the "New Prayer Book"
against their will. The attempt was as insane as it was despotic. As well might the king have tried to change
the song of the sea or the course of the stars. The Scotch conscience, enlightened by the Word of God,
strengthened by the Covenant, and guided by the Holy Spirit, was like Scotland's granite, upon which the
storms spend their force to no effect.
To resist the king's purpose, the Presbyterians poured into the Capital from all directions. Home and flocks
were left in the care of the mother and children, and the crops lay ripening in the warm September sun. The
freedom of the Church was the supreme interest that stirred the blood of these men. They filled the streets of
Edinburgh, thousands moved determinately and irresistibly through the chief thoroughfares of that awakened
city. There was no confusion, this was not a mob. These were men of mind, purpose, prayer, and peace; they
knew their rights and commanded respect. They carried their Bibles to show their authority. Resolution
gleamed in the face of the grey-headed and flashed from the eyes of the young men as they stood side by side.
Their adversaries were overawed and made conciliatory promises. The Covenanters therefore withdrew.
The promises were quickly broken. One month later, a fresh attempt by the king and his counselors to trample
the heaven-given right to worship God with a free conscience stirred the country. The Covenanters were alert,
they were not caught napping. They concentrated their strength upon the Capital once more, and this time
with a speed that surprised the government. Their number was greater than before; hundreds of ministers, and
hundreds of noblemen, with strong delegations of elders from many congregations assembled for the
occasion. The vast concourse of people was too unwieldy to meet in one place; they therefore divided into
four sections, each going in its own direction. They held meetings for prayer and consultation, realizing
deeply the dangers that were converging upon their Church, their homes, and their persons. They prepared
petitions to be presented to the king. Once more they received assurance of relief, and quietly returned to their
homes.
The months rolled past heavily. Mild September had seen the country greatly agitated; bountiful October had
witnessed the recurrence and increase of violent measures; November now came, chilled with sleety storms,
and vexed with man's perfidy and cruel attempt to crush conscience. More desperate efforts were again in
progress by the king and those who supported him in his claim of supremacy over the Church and power to
regulate her worship. The Covenanters were apprised, and for the third time the roads converging upon
Edinburgh were filled with their dauntless ranks. They came on foot, on horses, and in wagons; old men with
white locks and young men with iron nerve; ministers and elders, noblemen and commoners. These were men
who were exalted into Covenant with the Almighty; they had tasted the sweetness of the liberty of the sons of
God; they had felt the energy of the Holy Spirit throb in their hearts; they had visions of the KING OF KINGS
in His transcendent glory. They came with one resolve—that Jesus Christ must not be superseded by
the king of Scotland in the government of the Church. They poured into the Capital in strong, living streams,
till the city was almost deluged with their number. The king's officials were alarmed. Feigning a bold spirit
they commanded the Covenanters to depart on pain of rebellion. The Covenanters, knowing their rights and
power, refused. After preparing a respectful petition to the king, and a strong remonstrance against the wrongs
they suffered, they elected a permanent commission of sixteen men to remain in the Capital, to protect their
interests and give notice when danger appeared.
Greyfriars' Church.
But no confidence could be placed in the king or his representatives. The land was greatly troubled by the
wickedness of its rulers. One wave of commotion followed another; there was no peace, no safety, no
security. Many weary hearts were crying out, "How long, O Lord?"
The Covenanters saw that the king was determined to crush their Church. The General Assembly had not met
for twenty years; that court of God's House had been stamped out beneath the iron heel of despotism; the
lesser courts had been corrupted; the king had resolved on the subversion of all. Will not ministers and elders
"The Covenants! the Covenants!" This has been repeatedly the watch-cry of Scotland in the throes of distress.
The Covenants have been the glory and strength of the Church in the past; will they not be safety and stability
to the Church in the present? Such was the thought that throbbed in many hearts at this critical moment. The
Holy Spirit was now clothing Himself with Henderson, Warriston, Argyle, and other princes of God,
preparing them to lead the Church into the renewal of her Covenant with God.
The right to worship God according to conscience, when conscience is set free by the Spirit and enlightened in
the Word, must be jealously guarded. Every attempt to introduce the devices of man into the service of the
Church should be strenuously resisted. Each innovation in the worship of God does violence to the most
delicate and sacred feelings of the human heart, and is a reflection on the wisdom of the Lord Jesus Christ,
who has ordained all the services of His House with utmost care and precision. If the Covenanted fathers
protested unflinchingly against a man-made Prayer Book, what would they have done at the appearance of a
modern pulpit programme of music and hymns?
2. What three successive demonstrations of strength did the Covenanted Church give against the new Prayer
Book?
XIII.
The leading Covenanters saw in the war-cloud, that which blinded eyes could not see—the hand of the
Lord lifted up against the nation. Henderson, Rutherford, Dickson, and others of penetrating mind discovered
the moral cause of the troubles and trembled for their country. The Lord was meting out judgment against sin.
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Divine wrath was falling upon the people. Judgment had already begun at the House of God. The King of
Righteousness was girding His sword on His thigh for action. Who will be able to stand when He arises in
wrath to vindicate His own royal rights? These men feared God and trembled at His word.
A day of humiliation and fasting was appointed, many came together for prayer. There were deep searchings
of heart followed by pangs of conscience and cries for mercy. God gave an alarming view of sin. The
defection of the Church and perfidy of the nation seemed to fill the sky with lurid flames of divine vengeance.
The former Covenants had been broken; the oath was profaned, the obligations denied, the penalty defied; the
Lord had been provoked to pour out His wrath upon the Land. The day of reckoning seemed to have come.
The sense of guilt and the weight of wrath bowed many souls to the earth. One supreme desire seemed to
prevail—that they arise and return to Him, from whom they had so deeply and shamefully revolted.
"The Covenants! The Covenants!" This was now the national cry. The Covenants have ever been Scotland's
hope, strength, and glory. The cry went from house to house, from church to church, from earth to heaven. It
was on the lips and in the prayers of men, women, and children. Hope revived, enthusiasm spread like flames,
the nation was rapidly prepared for the high honors that were awaiting her. The people in large numbers were
fired with a passion to renew their Covenant with God!
The Holy Spirit fell mightily upon many, causing a floodtide of spiritual life to sweep the country. The
leading Covenanters were endowed with wisdom and courage to direct the holy enthusiasm into the right
channel. It had to be turned by prompt action, to present use, and conserved for the generations to come, or its
strength and volume would soon be lost. On Sabbath February 25, 1638, the ministers preached on
Covenanting. Next day the people met in their churches and received notice that, on Wednesday following,
their Covenant with God would be renewed in Edinburgh. The announcement struck a responsive chord. The
country was astir early on the morning of the appointed day. Doubtless many had spent the preceding night
with the Lord Jesus Christ in prayer. While the stars were still shining, many households, we may be assured,
were called around the family altar, that the father might bless his house and hasten to Edinburgh. The
commissioners who had been appointed to lead the people in Covenanting were on the ground at break of day.
The Covenant of 1581 was chosen for the present occasion. Two generations had passed since that solemn
bond had lifted the kingdom into holiest relation with God. Nearly all the Covenanted fathers of that event had
finished their testimony and were gone; only here and there a patriarchal voice was heard telling of that
solemn day and deed. The grand-children had lost much of the fervor, power, purpose, holy enthusiasm, dread
of God's majesty, fellowship with Jesus Christ, and raptures in the Holy Spirit—had lost many of the
countless and unspeakable blessings descending from the sure Covenant made with God and kept by their
fathers. Fifty-seven years had elapsed and many changes had occurred. Henderson, by appointment, added to
the Covenant what was necessary to make it applicable to their times.
The Holy Spirit came in great power upon thousands and tens of thousands on that eventful morning; the day
was bringing heaven's best blessings to the Church and the nation. It was still winter; but not frozen roads, nor
drifting snows, nor lowering clouds, nor biting winds, could stay the people. Many men and women, old and
young, were far on their way before the sun had softened the rasping air. They came on foot and on horses, in
carriages and in wagons, through the valleys, over the mountains, along the highways and the lanes, pouring
into the jubilant city from all directions as rivers of enthusiastic life. It has been estimated that sixty thousand
came that day to take part in the renewing of the Covenant, or to give countenance and influence to the
solemn deed. To these spirited people the winter was over and gone, though February still lingered; the time
of the singing of birds had come, though the earth was clad in her mantle of snow. The season had lost its
rigor upon these Covenanters; their cheeks were red, but not so much with wintry blasts as with holy
animation. It was a summer day to them.
The Covenant of 1638 was signed first by those who filled the Greyfriars' Church.
The parchment was then brought outside and laid on a flat tombstone, where those
who had assembled in the churchyard eagerly embraced the opportunity to add
their signatures. The people were deeply moved, as they thus joined themselves
and their children to the Lord, in an everlasting Covenant never to be forgotten.
At the appointed hour, Greyfriars' Church and churchyard were crowded "with Scotland's gravest, wisest, and
best sons and daughters." Alexander Henderson constituted the meeting with prayer. His earnest words were
deeply felt, they seemed to bring the Lord of glory out of heaven. The Earl of Loudon made a solemn address,
appealing to the Searcher of motives. Archibald Johnston unrolled the vast parchment and read the Covenant
in a clear voice. Silence followed—a dreadful pause during which the Holy Spirit was doing great work
on all present. The Earl of Rothes broke the silence with a few well-chosen words. Another solemn pause
ensued, while all eyes watched for the next act in the sublime programme. The Covenant was ready for
signatures. What name will have the honor of heading the list on that white parchment? At length the Earl of
Sutherland, an aged elder, with much reverence and emotion, stepped forward and taking the pen with
trembling hand subscribed his name. Others rapidly followed. The heart went with the name, the blood was
pledged with the ink, the Covenant was for life even unto death. When all in the church had subscribed, the
parchment was carried to the churchyard and placed on a flat tombstone, where the people outside added
name after name till there was no room, no, not for an initial letter. The scene was impressive beyond
description; the people gave themselves willingly unto the Lord. Many wrote through blinding tears and with
throbbing hearts; some added the words, "Till death"; some drew blood from their own veins for ink. Then as
the sun was westering in the cold sky, they lifted up the right hand to Almighty God, the Searcher of hearts,
avowing allegiance to Him with the solemnity of a most sacred oath. Surely this was Scotland's greatest day.
The Church may now be called Hephzibah, and her land, Beulah. Immanuel is the name of her Covenant
Lord. "Glory, glory, in Immanuel's land!"
The evening drew on; the spirited demonstrations of that eventful day, like a glorious sunset, melted away; but
the Covenant, in all its sacredness, substance, obligations, and strength, remained for the next day, and the
next generation, and all generations to come. Thus was Scotland's National Covenant renewed in 1638.
5. How was the nation stirred at the prospect of renewing the Covenant?
8. What obligations descend from that Covenant upon the present generation of Covenanters?
XIV.
As the evening drew on, the vast multitude that had congregated in Edinburgh melted away. The sublime
transactions in which they had been engaged had filled them with awe; the shadow of the Almighty had
overspread them, the glory of heaven had descended upon them, and, being filled with the peace of God and
joy unspeakable in the Holy Spirit, they departed from the city as quietly as they had come and returned to
their homes. The stars were again out while many were yet traveling, but the great light that fell upon them
was the glory of the Lord, as they carried the brilliant scenes of the day in their hearts. Every heart-beat had
the solemnity of a vow, a prayer, a song of praise, a psalm of thanksgiving. What devout worship in those
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homes that night when the fathers told the touching story of the Greyfriars' Church and of Covenant.
Within a short time the delegates had reached their respective churches, in which they rehearsed the renewing
of their Covenant with God. The people were deeply moved, the Holy Spirit fell upon them. The interest
became intense; the fires arose into flames; a Covenanting passion swept the kingdom; the enthusiasm knew
no bounds. The Covenant was studied, accepted, and subscribed by ministers and magistrates, men and
women, old and young, throughout the four quarters of the kingdom. There was a voice heard throughout the
land, as the "voice of a great multitude, and as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of mighty
thunderings, saying, Alleluia; for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth." The Lord Jesus Christ was glorified in
His people, honored by His Church, and exalted supremely above the nation's haughty monarch.
Yet the Covenant had its enemies; but they were apparently few and for a while very quiet. These
anti-Covenanters stood with the king in his effort to foist Prelacy upon the people. These he repaid with
political preferments. Hitherto they had claimed to be in the majority and therefore assumed the right to rule
over the Presbyterians. But the year of Jubilee had come; the Covenant proclaimed "liberty throughout all the
land unto all the inhabitants thereof." This Covenant with God revealed to the people their dignity, privileges,
rights, power, and freedom in Christ Jesus, KING OF KINGS and LORD OF LORDS. In that light which fell
like the glory of heaven upon Scotland, Episcopacy appeared in its real strength, or rather in its weakness; in
comparison with Presbyterianism it was a mere faction.
King Charles ruled Scotland from his throne in London. The Covenanters were his most loyal subjects,
devoted to him on every principle of truth and righteousness; yet by no means would they permit him to
assume the rights of Jesus Christ without their earnest protest. They hastened to report the Covenant to the
king at London; their adversaries sent delegates with equal haste. Both sides tried to win the king. As might
have been expected, the Covenanters failed. He was exceedingly wroth. He branded the Covenant as treason
and the Covenanters as traitors. "I will die," said he, "before I grant their impertinent demands; they must be
crushed; put them down with fire and sword."
The king appointed the Marquis of Hamilton to represent his majesty in Scotland and to subdue the
Covenanters. Hamilton accepted the commission and entered upon his stupendous task. He was authorized to
deceive and betray, to arrest and execute, to feign friendship and wage war—to use discretionary
power; the manner would not be questioned if the Covenanters were subdued.
Hamilton announced his intention to enter Edinburgh, as the king's High Commissioner, on the 19th of June.
Less than four months previous, the Covenant had been renewed in that city amid transports of joy; must it
now be trampled in the dust? The effects of the Covenant had fallen upon the kingdom like spring showers
that fill the land with songs and flowers; must the glory be blighted ere the fruitage be matured? The day set
for the commissioner's coming was perfect. The bright sun, clear sky, blue sea, green fields, purple hills, soft
winds, fragrant blossoms, tuneful birds—all united to make the coming of his majesty's commissioner a
delight. Nature was in her gayest attire.
Archibald Johnston.
The Covenanters were by no means ignorant of Hamilton's power and purpose; yet they recognized him as the
king's representative, and therefore they would do him honor. They were truly loyal. No taint of treason had
ever mingled in their blood. They resolved to give the commissioner every opportunity to do his duty as ruler,
yet stood ready to resist if he did wrong. They came to the city in force; their number was estimated at sixty
thousand. They thronged the road over which Hamilton passed, banked the hillsides with earnest faces, raised
their caps in sincere respect for the commissioner, and lifted up their voices in prayer for their king and their
country. When Hamilton saw the great-heartedness of the people, whom he came to crush, he wept.
The Covenanters had requested two things: a free General Assembly and a Parliament. The Church must have
the first; the nation must have the second. The commissioner, in the name of the king, refused both. King
James had abolished the General Assembly in 1618; there had been none for twenty years. The Covenanters,
braving the king's wrath and the commissioner's power, appointed a meeting of ministers and elders to be held
in Glasgow, November 21, 1638, five months hence, to re-organize the General Assembly. A cloud of war
immediately darkened the heavens. Had the king's wrath been lightning, the meeting-place would have been
When the day for the re-organization of the General Assembly arrived, the delegates from the Covenanted
churches were on the ground. The house was filled with able, earnest, resolute men, true servants of the Lord
Jesus Christ. They had come in His name at His call to do His work. Each breathed deeply the spirit of
reverence; they felt the presence of God; holy dignity rested on every brow. They had come in the strength of
the Lord and were ready for duty and its consequences.
Hamilton with his friends also appeared. He immediately began the work of obstruction. Alexander
Henderson was chosen moderator, and Archibald Johnston, known also as Lord Warriston, clerk, both of
whom had taken an active part in the renewing of the Covenant. Hamilton made certain demands all of which
were refused. He then attempted to dissolve the meeting but failed. In a storm of passion and with vigorous
threats he withdrew, leaving the Assembly to pursue its own course. Can we conceive of sublimer courage
than these Covenanters exhibited in standing by duty, conviction, and principle, owning their Covenant and
honoring Christ Jesus, in the face of the king's wrath? The Assembly continued its sessions one month. The
work was stupendous, and it was thoroughly done. The Church was cleansed, the ministry purified, true
worship restored, and enactments adopted for the protection of the Reformed religion. After pronouncing the
final benediction, the moderator said, "We have now cast down the walls of Jericho; let him that rebuildeth
them beware of the curse of Hiel the Bethelite."
Behold how these fathers stood at the risk of their lives for the sovereignty of Jesus Christ! What devotion,
what courage, what self-immolation! How great the moral grandeur of those lives, lifted up in the service of
Christ far above the fear of man! They felt deeply the presence and power of the Holy Spirit, giving them
wisdom, peace, joy, and success, in their tasks! Had we the same enduement of the Spirit of God, surely the
Lord's work would prosper in our hands! May God grant it.
1. In what spirit did the people retire from the Covenant Convention in Edinburgh?
XV.
During the next ten years the Church experienced rapid growth. The Covenant always seemed to give the
Church about ten years of extraordinary prosperity. The Holy Spirit descended in power, multiplying the
ministry and membership exceedingly. New congregations sprang up in the towns and in the country, and
were shepherded by faithful ministers. True religion, bringing peace, comfort, and gladness, entered the
homes of the people and lodged with them. The melody of joy and health was heard in their dwellings. The
family altar made the humblest house the Holy of Holies where God was enthroned on His Mercy Seat, and
the lowliest family was a royal priesthood ministering unto God in the name of the Lord Jesus.
Yet all this time the Church suffered violence. She had become a bright target upon which Satan concentrated
the fire of his heaviest artillery. One onslaught followed another with vengeful malice. The gates of hell
opened wide and the floods dashed fiercely against her; but she was built upon a Rock, and that Rock was
Christ. She was in alliance with the Lord. Her people were steadfast in their Covenant; they were united, full
of faith and of the Holy Spirit; therefore the distresses resulted only in her growth.
When the king heard that the General Assembly was in session contrary to his will and acting directly in
violation of his decree, he was filled with wrath. Having sent Hamilton to use policy and craftiness, and
thereby gain time, he mustered an army of nearly 50,000 men, with which to punish the Covenanters. He also
sent a fleet to co-operate with the land forces. Absolute subjugation was determined. These people must be
despoiled of conscience, liberty, divine worship, religious rights—all that is most sacred to the human
heart. The army is coming. Men, women, and children must feel the weight of the horses' hoofs and the
warriors' boots, just because they have joined themselves to the Lord in a Covenant, and are living the life of
faith on the Son of God.
The Covenanters were not dismayed, yet they hesitated to accept war. Would it be right to take up arms
against the government? Ought they to go forth against their king in battle? Should they use the weapons that
are carnal, and engage in the shedding of blood? Such questions lay heavy upon their hearts. They pondered,
prayed, and fasted, that they might reach a decision in the fear of God. Finally they resolved to make their
defence by force of arms. Their cause was just. Momentous issues were involved; their Covenant with God,
the supremacy of Jesus Christ, the independence of the Church, the liberty of conscience, the purity of Divine
worship, the rights of citizenship, the heritage of future generations, the progress of Christian
civilization—all this appealed to the Covenanters for defence. The trumpet of war sounded, and the
sturdy sons of the Covenant quickly responded.
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One day the Covenanters from an eminence beheld their enemy at a distance of six miles. General Leslie
halted, arranging his troops on sloping grounds, facing the foe. There he prepared for action. Forty pieces of
cannon bristled along the oval summit; the musketry and swordmen were placed on the hillside and
outstretching plain. The encampment presented an appearance unusual in warfare. At the tent-door of each
captain the ensign of the Covenant was unfurled. On the banner was inscribed in letters of gold the
soul-stirring motto:
As the flag rose and fell on the soft summer winds, the men were reminded of the sacred cause which they
loved more than their lives. A chaplain of highest character was assigned to each regiment. Every morning
and evening the men were summoned by the beat of drum for the worship of their God. Such were the
Covenanters as they waited in the presence of their foes for a sanguinary struggle. How often they sang the
The Covenanters did not want to give battle; they were merely on the defensive. They loved peace and longed
for it. They shuddered at the horror of civil war and would avoid it if at all within their power. They sent an
embassy asking for a conference. The king, knowing the spirit and power of the men with whom he had to
deal, consented. During the negotiations for peace, the king hesitated to grant the Covenanters their demand.
They would have nothing less than a free General Assembly and a Parliament. The king would not consent.
Gen. Leslie replied by announcing his intention to advance his army within gunshot of the king's camp. This
persuaded the king to come to terms, and a treaty of peace was ratified, by which the Covenanters received, on
paper, all they asked. The Covenanters returned to their homes rejoicing in their Covenant Lord, who had
given them the victory without the cost of blood, and in their homes profound gratitude arose to God in their
morning and evening service of worship.
The people continued steadfast in their Covenant, enjoying the rights and privileges of the children of God for
a time. The Lord showered His blessings upon them. Their increase in power and numbers was marvelous.
The king again became alarmed. He resolved on war once more, and within a year was at the head of another
army, determined to reduce the Covenanters and bring them into subjection to his arbitrary will.
The Covenanted fathers would surrender nothing in which the honor of the Church and the glory of Christ
were involved. They were very jealous concerning all moral obligations and religious truth. They had
convictions, conscience, intelligence, and the fear of God, and dared to fight for the right. They distinguished
pillars of granite from columns of brick, and were not confused. They knew that gold dust was gold, and
saved the dust as well as the ingots; they would sacrifice nothing. Can not we get a lesson here that will make
the heart throb and the cheeks burn, as we view the faithfulness and heroism of these Covenanted ancestors?
2. What growth did the Church experience in the next ten years?
XVI.
King Charles' war flurry against the Covenanters, in 1639, brought him no honor. Out-matched on the field,
outdone in diplomacy, and utterly defeated in his purpose, he returned to London greatly humiliated. The
journey was long and dreary, even though he rode in his stately carriage and behind swiftest horses, for he
was chafing over his failure to reduce the Covenanters. In his palace also he found no comfort, his
magnificent apartments brought him no restfulness. He brooded over his ill-fortune till his blood was tinctured
with acid and his heart soured; a malignant spirit spread its dark wings over him. He had failed in his military
operations; the Covenanters were stronger and more independent than hitherto; his Prelatic friends were
aggrieved with his treaty of peace; his power to tyrannize over the public conscience was waning. Such
thoughts racked his brain and wrecked his peace of mind. He grew sullen, miserable, desperate. It was this
passionate and despotic temperament that carried him into the second war with these Covenanters whom he so
thoroughly hated.
The Covenanters were yet truly loyal to their king. Their loyalty was high-principled and self-sacrificing, yet
at the same time discriminating. They bound themselves by their Covenant to be true to their king and their
country. The Covenant recognized the king and the people to be equally under the law of God, subjects of the
moral government of Jesus Christ. While he occupied his rightful place and exercised legitimate power, they
would stand by him till their blood and treasures were alike exhausted. Such was their oath of loyalty, and it
was kept with sacred care. But they resisted his authority at the point where he attempted to crush conscience,
rule the Church, and usurp the royal prerogatives of the Lord Jesus Christ, who is KING OF KINGS. There
they drew the line, and drew it so clear, that all the world might see it, and the blindest king might pause,
consider, and not pass beyond. There they uttered their solemn protest with the Bible in one hand and the
sword in the other. Such encroachments on their rights and liberties, and upon the honor and supremacy of
Jesus Christ, they met on the battlefield, when peaceful measures had failed. While these interests were at
stake they counted not their lives dear.
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The Covenanters, ever loving peace and hating war, had exhausted all honorable measures to avoid a conflict
with their king on the battlefield. Their efforts however having failed, again the call to arms resounded
through their peaceful glens and over their granite hills. The shepherd again left his flock, the workman closed
his shop, the plowman released his team, and the minister took leave of his people to follow the fiery
war-cloud. Again the banner was unfurled for CHRIST'S CROWN AND COVENANT; the silken folds rose
and fell on the breeze; the golden letters and sacred motto flashed upon the eyes of the men who were willing
to follow where it led. Gen. Leslie was again in command. He boldly crossed the Tweed and hastened to give
the king battle on English soil. The armies having come within range of each other, the usual lull before the
battle ensued. The Covenanted columns, standing under their colors and gleaming with arms and armor in the
bright August sun, struck terror once more to the king's heart. He dreaded to meet this sea of living, fiery
valor, rolling its waves into his very camp. He saw, as on the first occasion, that a treaty was the better part of
valor and offered peace. The terms being concluded, the Covenanters returned to their homes, not knowing
England, too, was at this time greatly agitated. She was making a desperate effort to throw off the galling
despotism of King Charles. The spirit of progress, enlightenment, and liberty was deeply stirring the people;
they were eagerly reaching after a higher and nobler life. The grand possibilities of improvement and
happiness filled them with visions of better things, and they grew desperate in their purpose to obtain
freedom. Continued subjection to the heartless autocrat became intolerable.
There was public indignation likewise against Prelacy, for by it the king was inspired and upheld. In the State
the revolt was from monarchy to democracy: in the Church, from Episcopacy to Presbyterianism. The king, as
the head of the Episcopal Church, not only exercised jurisdiction over her, but used her as an instrument to
enforce his arbitrary will over the people. The king mounted his war horse once more. This time it was
English against English. Strong armies were mustered on each side. For four long years a civil war swept the
unhappy kingdom, victory perching alternately on the opposing banners. This was a war of the Parliament
against the king, British rule against brutish rule, humanity against despotism. Scotland watched the struggle
of her sister kingdom with deepest interest. On the one side she was attached to her king, notwithstanding his
incorrigibleness; on the other, she was devoted to the principles involved, including the independence of the
Church.
While the war-cloud was thickening, the English Parliament sent a delegation to Scotland to consult with the
Covenanters in expectation of receiving aid. The question was entrusted to a Joint Commission. The
deliberations were deep and far-reaching; the men in council were among the wisest and best in the two
kingdoms. They weighed the momentous interests involved in the pending war, that eventually convulsed
England and watered her soil with fraternal blood. The liberty of both kingdoms, the progress of the Gospel,
the purity of religion, the independence of the Church, the inheritance of the Covenants, the onward
movement of Christianity—yea, their own homes, possessions, liberties, and lives—all were at
stake in the crisis that darkened the land. These men turned to God in prayer to meet the task that burdened
their hearts and taxed their wisdom.
Dangers, too, were thickening around Scotland as well as England, like storm-clouds concentrating for a
destructive outburst. The king was planning to restore the Scottish Prelacy to power; he still hoped to fight his
way victoriously into Edinburgh; he had hired an army of 10,000 men to invade Scotland; he had watched
with apparent complacency, we will not say his sanction, the slaughter of 200,000 Protestants in Ireland by the
Papists. Such were the conditions in both kingdoms, which these counselors had to face. Dark were the days
when this Joint Commission was in session. Scotland was harassed by internal foes, England was convulsed
in a dreadful strife, and poor Ireland lay bleeding from a thousand wounds. But here was a band of men whose
hearts reached up to God for counsel, and they were made equal to the occasion. They knew how to take hold
upon Omnipotence and secure the help of heaven. They had access to the Eternal Throne, and were able to
call into service God's chariots and angels, and fill the mountains with armies which, though invisible to
mortal eyes, were invincible in the presence of all the hosts of the king, and all the legions of Satan. Listen to
the cry that goes up from that Council Chamber—"The Covenants! The Covenants!"
Scotland had a beaten path up the mountain of God, leading to the ever-available Covenant. Again she climbs
the heights, and this time leads her two trembling sisters, England and Ireland, by the hand. And there, on the
top of the mountain where the glory of the Lord shines like the sun in his strength, the three kingdoms,
Scotland, England, and Ireland, enter into THE SOLEMN LEAGUE AND COVENANT.
We would appreciate our Covenanted privileges more highly, if we considered more carefully the difficulties
our ancestors overcame in reaching the Covenant heights. Let us take heed lest, like a foolish heir squandering
his father's wealth, we waste our inheritance, which is more precious than gold, more priceless than life.
1. How did the Covenanters meet the king's second appeal to arms?
XVII.
The Covenant of the three kingdoms, though short-lived in its beneficent effect, was of immense value to the
world. Like the morning star, it heralded the coming of a bright day to all nations. The star may be hidden by
thickening clouds, but the sun will not fail to rise. This Covenant stands as a pledge of the ultimate condition
of all nations, points the way into the shining heights of God's favor, and warns against the aggravated sin of
breaking relation with the Lord. It was the first blast of the trumpet that will one day announce the submission
of the kingdoms of the world to the Lord Jesus Christ.
The Scottish fathers evidently regarded Covenanted union as the normal relation existing between God and
man, God and the Church, God and all the nations. Any thing less than this was, in their estimation,
sub-normal, imperfect, unworthy, dangerous, disastrous to man, and offensive to God. They loved their
Covenant, flew to it in times of danger as doves to the clefts of the rock, and reproached themselves for lightly
esteeming the inestimable privilege.
These Covenanters took their position at the throne of the Lord Jesus, and contemplated with rapturous delight
His many crowns and the magnificence of His kingdom. Their vast horizon took in heaven and earth, time and
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eternity, God and man. In their eyes the affairs of the world fell into subordinate relations, while the interests
of the Church loomed up in over-awing proportions.
The high ideal for nations entertained by the Covenanters of Scotland will hardly be excelled while the world
lasts. The Lord gave them a vision of what their country should be: enlightened with the Gospel, governed in
righteousness, protected by Omnipotence, adorned with churches, a school in every parish, and a college in
every city. The land in that vision was married to the Lord—Beulah was her name. All destroying vices
had fled, all public evils were rooted out. The heavens were beneficent, the soil yielded its increase, business
was prosperous, the armies were victorious, the rulers were God's ministers, the homes were filled with peace
and plenty, and resounded with the melody of praise. Such was their conception of the blessed nation whose
God is the Lord.
Rutherford in Prison.
Nations originate with God, are dependent on His will, subject to His authority, and accountable at His throne.
They are placed under Jesus Christ to be employed by Him to the glory of God the Father.
The chief end of Civil Government is to suppress wickedness and promote righteousness, and thus prepare the
way for the coming of the kingdom of our Lord.
Civil rulers are God's ministers, and as such, should serve the Lord Jesus Christ by conserving true religion.
Civil rulers should be interested in the union of the Churches, in Doctrine, Worship, Discipline, and
Government, according to the Scriptures.
Civil Government should suppress in Church and State all features of society that are openly criminal or
publicly injurious.
The people should enter into a solemn Covenant with their rulers and with God, to place themselves and their
possessions in readiness to sustain the government in its legitimate work.
The nation that keeps Covenant with God shall dwell in safety, grow in power, and enjoy enduring prosperity.
Have the principles of Civil government ever had an enunciation so candid and heroic, so sublime and
comprehensive, so ennobling to man and honoring to God? These principles were not flashes of a
high-wrought imagination; they were practical. The Covenanted fathers reduced them to practice. These
nations embodied them. The time was short, yet long enough for a demonstration.
What dignity rests on the State that is federally and loyally connected with the empire of the Lord Jesus
Christ! How great the security and excellence of the government that abides under the banner of Christ! How
powerful and happy the people who are exalted into favor with heaven by a Covenant that binds God and
man! Such was the ideal entertained by the Scottish fathers; and by heroic self-sacrificing effort, they exalted
the three kingdoms into the untrodden heights. These nations caught glimpses of the glory, basked for a
season in the brilliancy, tasted the sweetness of the banquet, breathed the exhilarating air, then fell back. By
the perfidy of man the vision was shattered and the idealization wrecked.
We shudder at the loss incurred by these kingdoms in their decline from their Covenant. What would have
been their eminence among nations had the terms of the Covenant been fulfilled? What would have been their
power and prestige had they, by keeping their Covenant, been sheltered for the last two and a half centuries
from the ravages of rum and Rome, misrule and tyranny, the violence of unscrupulous men and the wrath of
the offended Lord? What numerous posterity! what fruitful fields! what prodigious wealth! what industrial
prosperity! what educational institutions! what unparalleled progress! what inexhaustible resources for
development at home and achievements abroad! Enjoying the glorious millennium two hundred and fifty
years ahead of the rest of the world—what such a start would have done for the British Isles is past
finding out.
Priest-ridden Ireland failed because at that time her best blood was soaking the roots of her green meadows;
the massacre of her Protestants by the Romanists had left her low. Half-hearted England failed because
treachery was lurking in her ranks from the beginning. But Scotland! Oh, Scotland, wherefore didst thou
doubt? Wherefore turned ye back, ye sons of the mighty, lacking neither bows nor other arms? Heroes of the
Covenant, why fainted ye in the day of battle? Shame on Scotland. The high places of the field, where once
the banner for Christ's Crown and Covenant triumphantly waved, testify against thy treason.
But the Standard unfurled by the Covenanters of Scotland has not been altogether forsaken. A devoted band of
Christ's soldiers still remain underneath its waving folds. Few, yet fearless, they hold the ground. There they
sustain, day and night, the attacks of the world, the flesh, and the devil. Their position is ridiculed as
Alexander Henderson, who wrote the Solemn League and Covenant, displayed therein statesmanship of the
highest order. Great men are scarce who can be compared with Henderson to advantage. Wellington, Nelson,
Howard, Gladstone, and Livingstone; these form a brilliant constellation; but Henderson is bright as a
morning star. He set the pace for the future statesmen, who will yet lead the nations to God in Covenant and
place the crown of national homage on the head of Jesus Christ.
The Covenanter who abides by his Covenant is the truest patriot. The greatest service that can be rendered to
the country is the presentation of God's ideal for nations.
1. How long did the Solemn League and Covenant remain in force?
XVIII.
Nothing has done more, if the Covenants be excepted, to give the Covenanted Church decision, stability,
permanence, spiritedness, and undecaying strength, than the superlative formulas of truth produced by this
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illustrious Assembly. Our inheritance received from their hands should awaken our admiration for the men
and our interest in their work.
ORIGIN.
This Assembly came into existence in peculiar times and for a remarkable purpose. England was goaded to
desperation by the despotism of King Charles. As king of that nation and head of the Episcopal Church, he
attempted to stifle liberty and conquer conscience. He clashed with his parliament in London. A great
awakening had suddenly spread over all England. New ideas of life electrified the people, and they arose in
the majesty of their inalienable rights to realize their ideals. The action and reaction became terrible. The king
and the parliament called out their armies each against the other. England was plunged into a horrible civil
war. The parliament, perceiving that Episcopacy was the bulwark of the king's tyranny and hostile to the
interests of the people, attempted to abolish that system of Church government. But this destructive act
necessitated a constructive work. Accordingly parliament, by an ordinance, created an Assembly for settling
the Government and Liturgy of the Church of England."
The ordinance provided for an Assembly of "learned, Godly, and judicious divines." Milton, while not in
sympathy with their work, called this "The Select Assembly." Baxter, another disapproving contemporary,
said, "that in his judgment the world, since the days of the apostles, had never a Synod of more excellent
divines than this and the Synod of Dort." Abundant evidence certifies that in Westminster Hall, in those days
was seen a rare combination of native talent, classic learning, sanctified conscience, spiritual illumination, and
devotion to the truth as revealed in the Word of God.
ENROLLMENT.
The complete number of members was 174, of which 142 were ministers, and 32, elders. Of this number, four
ministers and two elders were commissioners from Scotland. The Scottish delegation of divines were men
mighty in the Scriptures and powerful in debate. Their influence in making Scripture truths lucid, and thereby
directing the Assembly to right conclusions, was deeply felt and cordially acknowledged. They declined to sit
as regular members of the Assembly, content with the humbler position of consultative members. They would
not by incorporation become responsible, personally or representatively, for the deliverances of an Assembly
selected and erected by parliament. These Scotch ministers form a brilliant constellation; let their names be
written in capitals:
Westminster Assembly.
"And they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness
as the stars for ever and ever." The Scottish elders were John Maitland and Archibald Johnston. Maitland in
after years renounced the Covenant and became a powerful foe of the Covenanters.
ORGANIZATION.
The Assembly met according to the call, July 1, 1643, in the Church of Westminster. Dr. William Twisse,
President, preached the opening sermon from Christ's precious promise, "I will not leave you comfortless."
These word's were as apples of gold in pictures of silver, in those days of woeful distraction. One week later
they met again, when the oath was administered to every member present, in the following words:
This oath was read every Monday morning to refresh memory and revive conscience. These men were
working for the Kingdom of Christ, in the presence of the great white Throne; its brightness was flashing
constantly upon their eyes.
THE WORK.
The work, to which the Assembly gave its attention, as specified by parliament, was "(1) A Confession of
Faith, (2) A Catechism, (3) A Platform of Government, (4) A Directory for all Parts of Public Worship."
The Confession of Faith: The first attempt was to revise the old creed of the Church of England. This was
abandoned at the Fifteenth Article. A New Confession was then prepared having Thirty-three Articles, all of
which are pillars of truth, every one ponderous, polished, and precious, revealing the quarry out of which they
were hewn, and the skill of the workmen by whom they were chiselled. Henderson has been credited with the
honor of preparing the first draft.
The Catechisms: The Shorter Catechism was prepared as a summary of Biblical instruction, appealing even by
its literary construction and elegance to the heart and memory for lodgment. This golden chain is an ornament
of grace that should be worn by every son and daughter of the Covenant. Rutherford seems to have been the
original writer. The Larger Catechism is an expansion of the Shorter.
The Form of Church Government: The Divine right of Presbyterianism occasioned much discussion. The
adoption of this principle was a deadly blow struck at the theory of Episcopacy—official ranks, tier
above tier, in pyramidal form with the people beneath the pyramid. Equal authority of ministers in the
administration of the Gospel of Christ, and equal authority of ministers and elders in administering
government in the House of God—these were the great truths announced by the Assembly with
clearness and solemnity, as the voice of God speaking in the holy Scriptures.
The Directory for Public Worship: This Directory superseded the Liturgy. The Liturgy had been condemned
for "giving encouragement to an idle and unedifying ministry, who had chosen rather to confine themselves to
forms, made to their hands, than to exert themselves in the gift of prayer, which our Saviour furnishes all
those He calls to that office." A warm discussion arose concerning the mode of receiving the Lord's Supper.
"The communicants orderly and gravely sitting round the table," was the expression adopted. Successive
tables received sanction from this expression.
PSALMODY.
Sir Francis Rouse, a member of the English Parliament, had recently produced his Metrical Version of the
Psalms. It was fresh and fragrant and greatly admired. The Assembly after a careful revision adopted it. Five
years later, having passed through the purifying furnace of revision at the hands of the General Assembly of
Scotland, it was authorized as "The only paraphrase of the Psalms of David to be sung in the Kirk of
Scotland." The New Version superseded the Old and took its place in Divine worship on May 1, 1650, the day
appointed for its introduction by the Assembly.
The Westminster Assembly convened July 1, 1643, and adjourned February 22, 1649, covering 5 years, 6
months, and 22 days, having held 1,163 sessions. They met at nine o'clock in the morning and sat till three in
the afternoon. Each member received four shillings a day, and were fined one shilling for absence. They kept
a solemn fast monthly, at which occasionally a single prayer lasted two hours. These men knew how to pray.
They became absorbed in prayer and talked with God while He strengthened them to stand in His presence
and receive His answer.
Such was the famous Assembly of Westminster divines. The magnitude of their work can never be measured.
Their building is imperishable. Familiarity with these manuals of doctrine will deepen, broaden, strengthen,
and exalt the human mind. Herein the truth of Christ appears in the symmetry, significance, magnitude, and
omnipotence of a complete system. One truth may take us to heaven, but the system of truth treasured up in
the heart, will bring heaven to us. Let us study the system.
XIX.
Then followed the gloaming. The evening of that prosperous day grew very dark; the darkness increased for
forty years; ten thousand midnights seemed to have condensed their horrid blackness upon Scotland and her
prostrated Church. At length the storm of fire and blood exhausted itself, but not till a whole generation had
wasted away in the anguish of that protracted persecution. The steps that led to the Church's prostration and
decimation, we may trace with profit; but as it is crimsoned with the blood of the brave, and marked with
many a martyr's grave, the eye will oft be moist and the heart sick.
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While the Church stood to her Covenant, she was like an impregnable fortress, or an invincible army. While
she held the truth tenaciously in her General Assembly, presbyteries, and sessions, and applied it effectively,
she spread forth her roots like Lebanon. But when doubt and fear, plans and policy, compromise and
temporizing entered into her councils, her gold became dim and her sword pewter. The Lord went not with her
armies into the battle, and they fainted and fell on the field. A brief review is necessary to understand the
situation.
The Solemn League and Covenant, in 1643, gave the Covenanted Church of Scotland a mighty impetus in the
right direction, but its effect for good was brief. The League united the kingdoms of Scotland, England, and
Ireland; and the Covenant placed them under obligations to one another and to God. These kingdoms were
thereby exalted beyond measure in privilege. The sacred bond had been prepared by the Joint Commission
that represented England and Scotland, the initial step having been taken by the English Parliament. The king
and the parliament were then at strife. The dominating spirit of Charles, which harassed Scotland had
provoked hostility in England; the strength of that kingdom was nearly equally divided between the two
parties. The people of England, who aspired after liberty and felt the throb of nobler manhood in their pulse,
had asked Scotland to combine forces against the oppressor. The outcome was the Solemn League and
Covenant which united their armies for the conflict.
This sacred bond was adopted by the General Assembly of Scotland, the English Parliament, and the
Westminster Assembly of divines. Afterward it received a prodigious number of signatures by the people in
public and private life, and became quite popular. These kingdoms were thereby placed under solemn
obligation conjointly to conserve the Reformed religion in Scotland, to reform the religion of England and
Ireland, and to root out all systems of evil in Church and State.
Scotland was far in advance of the other two kingdoms in enlightenment and liberty. The Covenanted Church
had exalted the Lord Jesus as her Head, and He had exalted her as the light, life, and glory of Scotland. The
vine had spread its branches from sea to sea. The two sisters were far behind. She undertook to lift them up;
the burden was too heavy; they dragged her down. She was unequally yoked, and the yoke pushed her astray.
Doubtless there were reasons that justified the course she had taken, but that course led her into a "waste and
howling wilderness."
Scotland sent her army to help the English Reformers in their fight for liberty. The soldiers coming from
Covenanted homes, marched, as was their custom, under the banner emblazoned with the inspiring-words:
They were led by General Leslie. Victory followed victory until King Charles, overwhelmed with defeat, rode
into Leslie's camp in disguise and surrendered as his prisoner.
What now shall be done with the royal captive? This was the question which called for the wisdom of both
nations. The Covenanters urged him to subscribe the Covenant and return to his throne. He refused. They
pleaded, promising that their flag would lead the forces of Scotland in his support. He yet refused. They
prayed and entreated him with tears to accept the Covenant and continue his reign. He would not. What could
they then do, but deliver him up to the English army, whose battles they were fighting?
General Leslie led his command back to Scotland. It was disbanded, for the land again had rest. The suspense,
however, concerning the king was painful.
King Charles I.
The king was now a prisoner in England. While he lay at Carisbrooke Castle, the Earl of Lauderdale, a
Covenanter of some eminence, accompanied by the Earl of Lanark, was stealthily admitted into his presence.
These men succeeded in making a compromise. Lauderdale and Lanark agreed to raise an army to bring the
king back. The king in turn agreed to confirm Presbyterianism for three years; the permanent form of Church
Government to be then determined by an assembly of divines, assisted by twenty commissioners to be
appointed by the king. This private treaty is known in history as "The Engagement." It contained the elements
of a base and disastrous surrender of principle. Presbyterianism on probation! Built upon the rock of truth, it
lasts while the rock endures. Presbyterianism to be succeeded by an uncertainty? How could the Church
entrust the government of God's house to the king's commissioners?
When "The Engagement" became public, the Covenanted Church was plunged into a debate that wrought
havoc. The peaceful sea was struck with a storm; the angry waves lashed every shore. The compromise failed,
but the Church was infected, weakened, rent, in twain, and for forty years was unable to stand in the presence
of her enemies. Henceforward there were two parties: those who held to the Covenant, in its clearness,
The Church of Jesus Christ may never traffic in the truth. The least compromise of Gospel principle is treason
against the King of heaven. The terms offered to the world, while in rebellion against Christ, should be those
embodied in General Grant's famous demand—"Unconditional Surrender." Anything less than this is
treachery. The truth of the Lord Jesus, which cost His blood in its purchase and the blood of martyrs in its
defence, should be maintained to the very last shred, with the tenacity of unconquerable faith. Unfaithfulness
in the least degree may result in greatest disaster. Once a ship was cast upon the rocks, and the lives of the
passengers were jeopardized simply because the compass varied, it was said, a millionth part of an inch. It
requires "hair-splitting" to measure a millionth part of an inch, and in certain cases it is worth while.
1. What reaction followed the ten prosperous years after the Covenant of 1638?
2. Trace the cause of the great distress that befell the Church
XX.
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receive the executioner's axe. One stroke did the fatal work.
The death of the king was not with the consent of the Covenanters; to them it was a poignant grief. With all
his faults they loved him still as their king. Had he accepted the Solemn League and Covenant when a
prisoner in their hands, they would have been at his service to restore his power and kingdom. They still
hoped for his reformation, entreated him to take the Covenant, and pointed him to a triumphal entry into
Edinburgh. They pleaded with the English Parliament to spare his life, and sent commissioners to prevent his
execution. Through his obstinacy they failed. But that obstinacy he accounted kingly dignity and inviolable
honor. The Covenanters upon hearing of his tragic death hastened to proclaim his eldest son king in his stead,
granting him the throne on condition of accepting the Solemn League and Covenant, and ruling the kingdom
according to its terms. He was a young man of nineteen years; "a prince of a comely presence; of a sweet, but
melancholy aspect. His face was regular, handsome, and well-complexioned; his body strong, healthy, and
justly proportioned; and, being of a middle stature, he was capable of enduring the greatest fatigue."
Charles II. while emerging from his teens faced a golden future. The providence of God spread before him
prospects of greatness, honor, and success, which the most exalted on earth might have envied. His heart in its
highest aspirations had not yet dreamed of the moral grandeur and kingly possibilities, that were granted him
when the Covenanters called him to rule their kingdom. Even Solomon, accepting a crown at the same age,
was not more highly favored. Scotland at this time was exalted into close relation with heaven; the National
Covenant had lifted the kingdom into alliance with God; the people had been emancipated from darkness,
Papacy, and Prelacy; the Gospel of Jesus Christ had overspread the land with light. The Covenanted Church
had flourished marvelously during the last decade, notwithstanding the storms that swept her borders; her
branches veiled the mountains, and her fruit overhung the valleys; every parish was adorned with a
schoolhouse, and the cities with colleges. What sublime possibilities for a king at the head of such a nation!
Oh, that the young prince might have a dream in the slumbers of the night and see God! Oh, for a vision, a
prayer, and a gift, that will fit him for the glory-crested heights of privilege and power to which he has been
advanced! Charles II. failed, and fell from these heavens like Lucifer.
The young king was crowned by the Covenanters January 1, 1651. The Crown of Scotland, sparkling with
precious stones deeply set in purest gold, was his splendid New Year's gift. But the gift was more than a
crown of gold and precious stones; it was a symbol of the nation's power, wealth, people, Covenant, honor,
and high relation to God, entrusted to his keeping.
The coronation took place in the dead of winter. The country was gowned like a bride in white. But the white
on this occasion was not the emblem of purity; rather was it the pallor of icy death. The rigorous storms
seemed to prophesy of trouble; the very winds were rehearsing a dirge to be plaintively sung over mountains
and moors in the coming years.
A large assembly of Covenanters met at Scone for the crowning of the new king. There was much enthusiasm,
yet beneath it all there flowed a deep undercurrent of doubt and fear. Rev. Robert Douglas preached the
coronation sermon. The king listened to deep, penetrating, practical words from the Book of God. The Solemn
League and Covenant was read. He gave his assent to it with an overflow of vehemence. Archibald Campbell,
the Marquis of Argyle, a prominent Covenanter and statesman, then took the crown in both hands, and, lifting
it above the prince with great solemnity, placed it upon his head, accompanying the act with an appropriate
exhortation. While the oath of office was being administered, the prince kneeled in apparent humility, and
lifted up his right hand in a solemn appeal to God. At this point he uttered the awful vow in the presence of
the people: "By the Eternal and Almighty God, who liveth and reigneth forever, I shall observe and keep all
that is contained in this oath." He also said: "I will have no enemies, but the enemies of the
Covenant—no friends, but the friends of the Covenant." Thus King Charles II. became a radical
Covenanter by profession and protestation in the most solemn manner. Time proved his guilty duplicity.
The English Parliament, after the execution of Charles I., had passed an act making it treason to proclaim this
prince king. The Covenanters, having thus elevated Charles to the throne, must now settle accounts with
England on the battlefield.
Archbishop Sharp
Had the sweet singer of Israel been on the field after the clash of arms, doubtless he would have repeated his
wail: "How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished!" The Covenanters defeated! How! Why!
Ah, there was an Achan in the camp. The king was already perfidious in the Covenant. His perfidy had
blighted the nation, and smitten the army. Hitherto God had led the armies of the Covenanters; they had won
easy victories, and sometimes bloodless triumphs. But now the Lord turns His back upon the banner unfurled
for His Crown and Covenant.
The king attempted to rally his shattered forces. He raised his standard at Stirling. His army was small; he
wanted more men. Hitherto the army had been recruited from the homes of Covenanters; the rank and file
were the resolute sons of the Covenant. The Scottish Parliament in bygone years had made a law called the
"Act of Classes", by which only those who had taken the Covenant were eligible to office in the government,
or position in the army. The statesmanship of the Scottish fathers was profound; their military wisdom was
from above. Civil government is God's gift to man. Why entrust it to other than His people? The military
power is to guard this trust. Why commit the guardianship to any but the loyal servants of the Lord Jesus
Christ?
The king had the Act of Classes repealed that he might increase his army. He multiplied his regiments, but
forgot "The sword of the Lord, and of Gideon." Three hundred may be better than thirty thousand. He
accepted battle once more with Cromwell, suffered a terrible defeat, escaped from the country and remained
an exile nine years. All honor to Gen. Leslie, and other faithful officers, who refused to serve after the ranks
had been filled with men who feared not God nor regarded His Covenant!
Can we here find a lesson to lay upon our hearts? Covenanting with God is, possibly, the highest privilege on
earth; Covenant-breaking is, possibly, the most dangerous sin. What can be worse? The Covenant-breaker
destroys much good; brings wrath upon himself, and defeat, sorrow, and distress upon those whom he
represents.
5. Why were the Covenanters now compelled to meet the English in battle?
XXI.
Oliver Cromwell, having defeated King Charles, ruled Scotland five years. He was titled "Lord Protector", but
in reality was a Dictator. The government was centered more than ever in one man. Many strange qualities
blended in this austere autocrat, some of which command our admiration. He was stern and painfully severe,
yet much sagacity and justice characterized his administration. During his sway of power the Reformed
Churches in his own realms and on the Continent were by him heroically defended. He became, in the hand of
the Lord, "the shadow of a great rock in a weary land." The persecuted found shelter under his shadow, in the
providence of the Lord. He avenged the massacre of the Protestants in Ireland, halted the persecution of
Christians on the Continent, and gave Rome the alternative, to cease the work of slaughter, or listen to the
thunder of his legions at her gates.
The Church of the Covenanters however had strange experience at the hands of Cromwell. In a ruthless and
despotic manner he dissolved the General Assembly, put the Supreme Court of God's house out of existence
to appear no more for thirty-five years. The meeting previous to this act of violence had been held in the
mid-summer of 1653. The ministers and elders had come from all parts of Scotland, to sit in counsel, or rather
in debate, concerning the kingdom of the Lord Jesus Christ. The salubrious air and genial sky of Edinburgh
united with, the sacred and exhilarating interests of the Gospel to arouse all that was noble, and divine in
every heart. The Moderator reverently led the Assembly in prayer and constituted the court most solemnly in
the name of Jesus Christ. Such a prayer should overwhelm the soul with God's presence, burden the
conscience with responsibilities, make the spiritual world dreadfully visible, and bring God's servants close to
His throne of judgment.
The Assembly had met last year in this prayerful and solemn mariner, but the business of the Lord Jesus soon
degenerated into an acrid, harmful discussion, that lasted two weeks and ended in confusion. The debate
evidently was now to be renewed with the additional bitterness and vehemence that had accumulated during
the ensuing year. The ministers and elders having convened, the regular business was under way, when
suddenly the Assembly witnessed what was unexpected—a regiment of soldiers in the churchyard.
Cromwell had sent them. The soldiers, in bright uniform and bristling with swords and guns, struck
amazement into the hearts of the delegates. The colonel ordered them to leave the house. They walked out in
front of the soldiers and, being escorted beyond the city limits, were sent home, not to return, under pain of
punishment.
The General Assembly had fallen into a state of bitter strife—the snare of Satan. There were two parties
and these were quite well balanced. Their power for good was greatly neutralized by one another; their
influence for harm was incalculable; the baneful effect spread like a withering shadow over the land. The two
parties, at the beginning, chiefly differed in the methods employed to accomplish the same end. The one was
governed by expediency; the other by principle. Expediency drew the majority; principle held the remainder.
The majority discounted the obligations of the Covenant; the minority held to the spirit and letter of the sacred
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bond. The party in power precipitated the direful conditions. This they did by repeated breaches of the
Covenant. The responsibility for the disgraceful proceedings, and the shameful termination of the Assembly,
must be attached to these who made the discussion a moral necessity.
The first shadow that darkened the General Assembly was the discussion of "The Engagement." Two
unscrupulous men—one of them a Covenanter—had made a secret engagement with Charles I.
in his captivity. They had promised to seat him, if possible, again on his throne; he in turn had engaged to
favor Presbyterianism three years. The Engagement aroused earnest and violent discussion in the Assembly.
The element of strife had now entered the Supreme Court of God's House, and the downward trend was
deplorably rapid.
The discussion continued year after year till all other interests in the General Assembly were overshadowed.
The voice of the Church, once powerful in guiding public issues, was now despised; the tones were guttural,
sepulchral, alarming, making the blood run in chills. Then came Cromwell and snuffed the Assembly out like
a candle. It was sending forth ill—odored smoke and but little light. Are we surprised that God
permitted him to quench the noisome spark?
The Protesters stood for all that the Covenant embodied. The Covenant lay heavy upon their conscience; they
trembled at its violation. They saw in the breach of the Covenant the wrath of God against themselves, against
the Church, and against the nation. They believed that nothing could compensate for the loss incurred by
forsaking the Covenant. They trusted in God with absolute faith; would not resort to expediency for any
purpose; temporized with no principle, no, not for greatest advantages. They knew that God could send peace,
victory, and prosperity to their country through the Covenant; and that He would send defeat, distress, and
desolation through the breach of it.
The Resolutioners grew more and more lax. They may have dreaded to be termed narrow-minded; they may
have sought to be reputed broad and charitable. They weakened in morals and influence, and lost power and
position when tried by the fires of persecution. They finally melted away and disappeared among the enemies
of the Covenant, as snowflakes falling on the mire.
The Protesters were the Covenanters who continued with the Lord Jesus Christ in His temptation. When the
Covenant called for martyrs, they were the martyrs. When the cause of Christ demanded witnesses, they were
the witnesses. They gave their testimony with a clear voice, and sealed it with their blood. These are they
whose crimson path we will now follow, our Lord Jesus permitting, till we come to the last of Scotland's
honored roll—the pleasant, youthful, innocent James Renwick.
God requires His Church to receive, proclaim, and defend the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,
as it is in the Lord Jesus Christ. This obligation is weighty, and the duty is difficult, yet no release is granted.
The Church that holds most truth should draw most people; the Church that abandons any truth for any reason
must be unsatisfying to honest souls. The organization that embodies the largest measure of God's Word is the
largest Church; that which contains the smallest is the least. "Whosoever therefore shall break one of these
least commandments, and shall teach men so, he shall be called the least in the kingdom of heaven." These are
the words of Jesus. In His sight a Church is measured, not by the number enrolled, but by the truth professed,
incarnated, and proclaimed.
XXII.
This was a cedar of Lebanon, a choice tree of God, distinguished for its grace, strength, and height, towering
above the trees of the forest. Therefore the first blast struck it with such deadly force. Then descended the
terrific storm upon the lesser trees, and the mountain of God's house was strewn with them. The next
twenty-eight years were filled with lamentation, and mourning, and woe. Let us look at the condition of the
Covenanted Church, as this age of horror settles down upon Scotland.
When Cromwell had reduced Scotland, he attempted to convert the Covenanted Church to Congregationalism.
Though he possessed some amiable qualities, yet this ignoble work was attempted in the spirit of a
Turk—with the Bible in one hand and the sword in the other. A resolution in favor of
Congregationalism was introduced in the General Assembly of 1652. This was voted down. The military
suppression of the Assembly at its next meeting was Cromwell's bitter revenge. Yet we must not fail to see the
hand of God in the overthrow of the Supreme Court of His House. As with the Temple at Jerusalem before its
destruction, this Temple was already desolate; the glory had departed ere the storm of Divine wrath smote it.
The resolution of the "Resolutioners," some years previous, favoring the repeal of the "Act of Classes," was a
gross violation of the Covenant, and the proceedings in the Assembly had thereby degenerated into bitter
debate. The Assembly had lost its power for good and, therefore, its right to exist; this part of the golden
candlestick had exhausted its oil and God removed the useless part.
The Church did not seem to be seriously affected by the abolition of the Assembly. The process was more like
the removal of a tumor than of a vital organ. God can do without the most excellent parts of the Church's
organization, when they become diseased and endanger the system with blood poisoning. During the rule of
Cromwell, the subordinate courts were mostly unmolested. The synods flourished; the presbyteries were
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uninterrupted in their work; the congregations enjoyed quietness and refreshing. The strife that existed in the
Church was chiefly among the shepherds, not among the sheep. There were 14 synods, 68 presbyteries, and
900 congregations, when the persecution began under King Charles II.
During Cromwell's administration the land had rest; unusual quietness prevailed among the clans; there was a
great calm. The four angels were holding the four winds of the earth, till the servants of God were sealed in
their foreheads. The people were diligent in waiting upon the Lord; the Holy Spirit fell upon them with power,
they became intensely interested in the ordinances of grace. They clustered around the family altar, through
the House of God, hallowed the Sabbath, observed the Sacraments, and tarried much in secret prayer. Thus
they were unwittingly preparing to enter the dreadful cloud. The vine was taking deep root, anticipating the
storm that was in the air.
When Cromwell died the public mind experienced a strange reaction. The politicians of the two kingdoms,
Scotland and England, reverting from the severe discipline of the "Protector," launched into every excess of
luxuriousness and dissipation. A cry for the return of the profligate king swept the country from London to
Edinburgh. Even the Covenanters were loud in calling for the banished monarch. They determined not to be
last in bringing back the king. They would, however, renew their allegiance to him only on condition that he
would renew the Covenant with them. From France, where he had found an asylum, came his captivating
reply, "I am a Covenanted king." He was received with enthusiastic demonstrations.
King Charles organized his government in Scotland by immediately placing in power the most virulent
enemies of the Covenanters. Within one month they were ready to execute whomsoever they would. The Earl
of Middleton was the head official. When off his guard by indulging in drink, he divulged the king's secret
instructions, confessing that he had been commissioned to do three things: (1) Rescind the Covenant; (2)
Behead Argyle; (3) Sheath every man's sword in his brother's breast.
Argyle had two daughters, Anne and Mary. The young king, after
having engaged to marry Anne, forsook her. She became despondent
and lapsed into insanity. Mary, after her father's martyrdom, went to
Middleton, the king's commissioner, and on her knees begged the
privilege of taking her father's head down from the Netherbow Port,
a gate of the city, to bury it with the body. She was refused.
Middleton, pointing her to the door, rudely asked her to leave his
presence in haste.
Argyle in those days was one of the great men of Scotland, if not the greatest. He was recognized in the
Council as overshadowing his associates, in personal excellence, public-spiritedness, trustworthiness, and
executive ability. He was a fine scholar, masterly statesman, wealthy landlord, brave soldier, and faithful
Covenanter. His magnificent estate lay in Argyleshire, where the mountains are fringed with lochs in the most
picturesque manner. The scenery is charming. One summer evening as our ship passed along the broken coast,
a sunset of surpassing beauty scattered its blending colors in rich profusion over clouds, hills, vales, and lochs.
The scenery was panoramic and enchanting. But greater gorgeousness than a thousand sunsets fell upon the
outlook, at the remembrance of the famous Argyle, himself and his wife and children; his home, hearth, altar,
Covenant, and martyrdom What incomparable grandeur where such hallowed associations throw their colors!
When Charles had first been placed on the throne, ten years previous, Argyle had the honor of setting the
crown upon his head. The king at that time feigned great friendship and respect for him. He sought, and
received, counsel from Argyle in apparent meekness and with evident appreciation. On one occasion he
remained nearly all night with him in prayer, for preparation and fitness to rule the kingdom. He even sought
Argyle's daughter in marriage. Such was the former intimacy of the king with Argyle. But once again on the
throne, he determined to crush the Covenanters, and Argyle was his first victim.
When Cromwell was conquering Scotland, Argyle fought him till further resistance was useless. He even then
refused to sign the declaration of submission, but agreed to keep the peace. This agreement with Cromwell
was the main charge preferred against Argyle. He was tried and convicted. The sentence was passed upon him
on Saturday; he was executed on the following Monday. He eloquently defended himself. It was a scene
highly tragical—this calm, innocent, dignified man, looking into the face of his accusers and
over-awing them with his bold vindication, and pathetic appeal for justice. Kneeling down he received his
sentence, which was death by decapitation, his head to be placed above one of the city gates, as a gruesome
warning to all Covenanters. Argyle arose from his knees and, looking upon his judicial murderers, calmly
said, "I had the honor to set the crown on the king's head, and now he hastens me to a better crown than he
owns." The real cause of his death was his devotion to the Covenant, and the solemn admonitions he had
tendered the king.
His wife, hearing of the decree of death, hastened to his prison. "They have given me till Monday to be with
you," said he. The stricken woman was overcome. "The Lord will require it; the Lord will require it;" said she
in tumultuous grief. "Forbear, forbear!" replied Argyle, "for I truly pity them: they know not what they do."
He was filled with inexpressible joy at the thought of honoring Christ with his blood The fear of death was
gone Heaven was so near; glory was ready to break upon him; the Lord was soon to be seen face to face. He
went to his execution like a prince to his coronation This was the Stephen of that age, and this the persecution
that scattered the Covenanters.
We are soft and puny for lack of hardships. The difficult places and dreaded conditions, through which
Christians pass, make life strong, sublime, triumphant, fruitful in good work, resourceful in the Holy Spirit,
and glorifying to God.
XXIII.
The death of Argyle only fired the ferocious spirit of the king. The tiger had tasted blood; now he must drink
deeply of the crimson flood and satiate his cruel heart. With vengeful hatred he reached for Samuel
Rutherford, the venerable minister of Anwoth. Neither feeble health nor grey hairs could elicit, the king's
compassion. A rock never pulsates with kindness. But ere the officer could lay his hand upon this man of God,
his Lord and Master took him home to heaven.
James Guthrie of Stirling, a distinguished minister of Christ, was the next upon whom the king set his cruel
eyes. He was seized and thrust into prison to await trial for "high treason." High treason! What was high
treason in those days? What had Guthrie done to merit the king's mortal displeasure? Here is the sum of his
crimes:
James Guthrie had preached, spoken, written, voted, and protested against the "Resolution" and the
"Resolutioners," because they had approved of the suspension of the Moral Test for office.
He had written and published a message to the nation, entitled "The Causes of God's Wrath", pointing out the
many breaches of the Covenant, and pleading for repentance.
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He had declined the king's authority, when cited to be tried for ministerial services which his enemies
accounted treasonable.
He had advocated Christ's supremacy over the Church and over the nation, and had disputed the king's
authority in ecclesiastical matters.
For pursuing this course of action, James Guthrie was charged with "high treason." But the rudest terms of the
world and the basest charges made by men are often turned into heaven's fairest badges. The iron chains that
manacled Rutherford he called "gold"; he called his prison "The King's Palace."
How could Guthrie have done otherwise, as a faithful minister of Christ Jesus, in the high calling of the
Gospel? Was he not responsible for the honor of the Church? Was he not entrusted with the truth and claims
and glory of Christ? Was he not accountable for the souls that waited on his ministry?
Guthrie had an exalted view of the Gospel ministry. He had the eagle's eye to take in a wide horizon, and the
lion's heart to meet dangers and difficulties. He took his instructions from the Lord, and stood above the fear
of man. He lived with the open Bible in his hand; his soul delighted in the deep, broad sublime truths of
salvation. The ministers of the Covenant in those days dwelt in the bosom of Jesus Christ, breathed His spirit,
saw His glory, pulsated with His love, and were irresistibly carried forward in the discharge of the duties of
their high office. They served as the ambassadors of the King of heaven. Only by dishonoring their office,
vitiating their conscience, shrivelling their manhood, disowning their Lord, and imperiling their souls, could
Christ's ministers do less than James Guthrie had done. Yet he was charged with "high treason."
The trial was set for April 11, 1661. Guthrie came before the tribunal, full of peace and comfort. He answered
for himself in a masterly speech. His pleading was deeply felt; some members of the court arose and walked
out, saying, "We will have nothing to do with the blood of this righteous man."
He was urged to retract. He was offered a high office in the Episcopal Church if he would accede to their
terms. Such inducements he held in contempt. Neither threat nor reward could weaken his loyalty to the Lord
Jesus Christ and the Covenant. The closing sentence of his defence was tender, fearless, and sublime:
"My lords, my conscience I cannot submit; but this old crazy body and mortal flesh I do submit, to do with it
whatever ye will, whether by death, or banishment, or imprisonment, or anything else; only I beseech you to
ponder well what profit there is in my blood. It is not the extinguishing of me, or many others, that will
extinguish the Covenant and the work of Reformation. My blood, bondage, or banishment will contribute
more for the propagation of these things, than my life or liberty could do, though I should live many years."
The death sentence was passed upon him. He was condemned to be hanged, his head to be placed above the
city gate beside Argyle's. He received the sentence with great composure. The execution was fixed for the first
day of June. To those who sat in judgement on his case, he replied:
James Guthrie.
In such cases doubtless the wife through sympathy is the greater sufferer. But Mrs. Guthrie was strong in the
Lord, and had courage equal to her trials. She was her husband's faithful helper in the difficult places. Once
when duty imperiled his life, and he was in danger of halting, she urged him on, saying, "My heart, what the
Lord gives you light and clearness to do, that do." Noble words! nothing wiser or greater could come from
consecrated lips.
Just before his death Guthrie was permitted to see his son, Willie, at that time five years old. The father
tenderly fondled his child, so soon to become an orphan, and spoke words adapted to the innocent heart. So
little did the child comprehend the terrible tragedy, that he could scarcely be restrained from playing on the
street while his father was dying. But the meaning soon dawned upon him with melancholy effect. It is said
that he never played again.
The execution was public and the streets were thronged. Guthrie mounted the scaffold with a cheerful spirit.
He spoke with great deliberation and earnestness for one hour to the immense throng that crowded close to
hear his last words. He then yielded himself to the executioner, who placed the death cap over his face. But, as
the light of that bright June day was shut out from his eyes, a vision of entrancing joy seemed to break upon
Thus he died in the full assurance of victory. His head was affixed over the gate, where it remained many
years. The sun bronzed the face, the storms smote it, the rains drenched it, the snows dashed against it, the
winds swirled the white locks, the stars looked down in silence, the people looked up in sadness, but James
Guthrie was heedless of all. The soul was mingling with the redeemed in heaven and rejoicing in the presence
of God. Guthrie had gone home to be forever with the Lord.
Little Willie often came and sat near the gate, gazing up at the silent motionless head. He would stay there till
night veiled the sombre features of his father. He seemed to be communing with the spirit that now lived
above the stars.
"Where have you been, Willie?" his mother would say, on his return. "I have been looking at father's head,"
he would sadly reply. The intense strain sapped his vitality and he died in early manhood.
Have we a conscience like that of the Covenanted fathers? a conscience that cannot submit to a man? a
conscience that can take instructions only from God? The surrender of conscience to man imperils the soul.
XXIV.
The issue now between the king and the Covenanters was clear, direct, unmistakable, beyond the possibility
of evasion. Both parties set themselves for the desperate struggle; henceforth compromise was out of the
question.
The king was determined to abolish the Covenant, obliterate Presbyterianism, establish Episcopacy, and
assume to himself the place, power, and prerogatives of the Lord Jesus Christ, as head of the Church.
The Covenanters disputed his right to these pretentious claims at every point. Especially did they challenge
his authority over the Church, and testify against his blasphemous presumption. They looked with horror upon
his attempt to grasp the crown of Christ, that he himself might wear it. This they resented and resisted as
treason against the KING OF KINGS. They could not submit to the man who clothed himself with Christ's
supremacy; that robe of royal priesthood must not be worn by mortal man.
The Covenanters grew very spirited and fearless in defence of the independence of the Church. When these
two leaders, Argyle and Guthrie, had been sacrificed, their enemies doubtless thought the people would be as
sheep scattered upon the mountains without a shepherd. But the Good Shepherd was ever with them and gave
them faithful ministers, who fed the flock amidst their wintry desolations. The Covenanted Church had noble
sons to lift up the head of their fainting mother even when persecution was at its worst.
The Church of Christ was very dear to these Covenanters. They gazed with rapturous eyes upon her high
origin, her mysterious character, her indescribable glory. She dwelt in the very heart of God; she was the
Bride of the Son of God; she was clothed with the righteousness of God; she was adorned with all the
excellencies of character God could lavish upon her. The Church was the habitation of the Holy Spirit. The
Covenant was the marriage bond joining her to her Lord and Husband. The love of the Covenanters for the
Church of the Lord Jesus arose in flames of jealousy when they saw a mere man, a dissolute and sinful man,
attempt to woo her heart and alienate her affections from her Lord and King. They could not endure it. Her
honor and purity were worth more to them than life itself.
The testimony of the Covenanters against the wrongs done the Church was both pathetic and vehement,
ranging all the way from tender tearful supplication, to pointed fearless denunciation. At times they spoke
with meekness and hope, as if standing on the Mount of Beatitudes; again with severity and sadness, as if the
voice came from the fiery summit of Sinai. Their eloquence in the sacred office matched the tenderness of the
dove and the terribleness of thunder; distilled like the dewdrop and smote like pointed lightning. The sword of
burnished steel they wielded to good purpose in self-defence, and the sword of the Word they used with
telling effect in the spiritual warfare for their Lord and His Church.
The strength which the Covenanters possessed and employed in battling for the rights of the Church, and the
prerogatives of their Lord, amazes the contemplative mind. Their power was always sufficient, new every
morning, fresh every hour, inexhaustible under most excessive strains, and mighty to win moral victories
everywhere. Whence the power? What was its source?
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Explain as we may the fortitude, inspiration, enthusiasm, exalted purpose, indestructible hope, and
unconquerable faith of the Covenanters under the cruel treatment and prolonged persecution they endured, we
must reach the conclusion that their strength lay in their Covenanted union with the Lord Jesus Christ. Being
thus united, the God's strength was theirs.
Their Covenant they cherished with holy awe; its sacredness lay heavy upon their hearts. It lifted the
conscience up into the presence of God. His throne of judgment was continually flashing its brightness upon
their eyes. A deep consciousness of God's presence, power, and approval, grew upon them. The dreadful
majesty of God overawed them. The sacrificial love of Jesus Christ set their hearts on flames. The Bible to
them was teeming with promises, shining with doctrines, and terrible with fiery warnings. They walked on the
border line, being often times even more in the other world than in this. The glory of the Lord fell upon them,
till some of them were compelled to cry out, "Withhold, Lord; it is enough." Their trials drove them into the
arms of their Father; and, oh, how sweet it was to lie on His bosom when cold and hungry, weary and
sobbing, amidst the sorrows of this world!
The Grassmarket.
Samuel Rutherford was one of that mighty host. His life reveals the secret and source of the Covenanter's
strength. He was a small man, not built to endure hardships. He was of a fair complexion, denoting gentleness
and a tender heart. He was roughly tossed from his earliest years upon the billows of trouble. An invalid wife
claimed his kindliest attention and received it with utmost care. The children were laid in short graves, one
after another till only a little daughter remained. The persecutor drove him from home, and Church, and
people, to live an exile in an unfriendly city. At the age of sixty-one, the wrath of King Charles fell upon him
and his life was demanded, but God sheltered him from the gallows.
Through all these trials the heart of this little fair man, with shrill voice, rapid step, and quick eye, was ever an
overflowing well of joy and praise. He seemed to live in the very heart of God, walked hand-in-hand with
Jesus Christ, and was continually wrapped in the flames of holiest love. It is said that he rose at three in the
morning to have five hours of prayer and study of the Word in preparation for the day's work. He seemed to
be always among his flock, yet was he ever ready for the pulpit.
This minister, like his blessed Master, could be seen, early and late, "leaping upon the mountains, and
skipping upon the hills," in his eagerness to visit his people who were scattered widely over the country.
As he walked, his head was erect and his face heavenward; his eyes were feasting on the glory above the sky.
His musings cast him into transports of joy in Christ. His Covenant with God exalted his soul into sweetest
familiarity with the Lord. The Holy Spirit came upon him in great power and with superabundance of gifts.
Rutherford, having a high-keyed voice, was a poor speaker; but that did not prevent him from holding
multitudes spell-bound. They came from afar to hear him tell of the love of Christ. He gazed upon visions of
Christ's loveliness, arose in raptures of joy as he discoursed on Christ's glory, and seemed at times as if he
would fly out of the pulpit in his animation. He was so full of life, of power, of heaven, of glory, and of God,
that his words and thoughts and teachings were pictures, revelations, inspirations, apocalypses, scenes in the
eternal world, glimpses of the glory of Immanuel and Immanuel's land.
Here are some of his spiritual chromos as they took color and language from his soul:
"My one joy, next to the flower of my joys, Christ, was to preach my sweetest, sweetest Master, and the glory
of His kingdom.
"I would beg lodging, for God's sake, in hell's hottest furnace, that I might rub souls with Christ.
"Were my blackness and Christ's beauty carded through other, His beauty and holiness would eat up my
filthiness.
"Christ's honeycombs drop honey and floods of consolation upon my soul; my chains are gold."
When Rutherford was on his deathbed, his enemies sent for him to stand trial for treasonable conduct. His
treasonable conduct was his fearless preaching of the Gospel and heralding the royal glory of Christ, which
included severest denunciation of the king's arrogant claim of authority over the Church. He replied, "Tell
them I have got a summons already before a Superior Judge, and I behoove to answer my first summons; and
ere your day come, I will be where few kings and great folks come." As he lay dying, he opened his eyes, and
his familiar vision of Christ and the world of glory breaking upon him with unclouded luster, he exclaimed:
"Glory, glory in Immanuel's land." With this outburst of joy on his lips, he joined the white-robed throng to
take up the heavenly song.
The same source of strength is yet available. Power comes through holy familiarity with God, personal
relation to Christ, and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. Are we full of power in the Lord's service?
1. What event intensified the issue between the king and the Covenanters?
3. How did they show their love for the Church of Christ?
XXV.
The fidelity of Argyle and of Guthrie, their devotion to Christ and the Covenant, reappeared in hundreds of
noblemen and in hundreds of ministers all over Scotland. Overawe and subdue the Covenanters by sacrificing
their prominent leaders? Their foes mistook their spirit and underestimated their strength, knowing little of the
deathless principles of the Covenant that carried them into the service of the Lord, not counting their lives
dear for Christ's sake. The Covenanters overawed! Will the sun faint and fail beneath the gale? Will the oak
wither at the loss of a few boughs? Will veterans recoil at the first fire? Rather, will not the fighting spirit be
roused?
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At this time the Covenanters numbered about 1,000 ministers, and 100,000 communicants. They had 900
congregations. The ministers were not all staunch; the leaven of compromise had been working; half the
number had become more or less infected. They had weakened in the Covenant and yielded to King Charles
under his vicious administration. The political whirlpool in its outside circles was drawing them slowly yet
surely toward its horrible vortex.
The sifting time had come for the Covenanters. God knows how to shake His sieve to clean the wheat. He
seeks not bulk, but value. Numbers are nothing to Him; character is everything. He would rather have Gideon
with 300 men up to the standard, than thirty regiments below it. He preferred one-tenth of Israel to the whole
number, and sifted the nation in Nebuchadnezzar's sieve to get the good wheat separated from the inferior.
The Covenanted Church became loaded down with chaff, weevil, shrunken grains, and broken
kernels—low grades of religious life—and the Lord shook the bad out of the Church by making
it exceedingly painful and difficult to stay in. The way of faithfulness was filled with hardships. God made
Covenant-keeping dangerous and expensive. The followers of Christ were compelled to take up the cross and
carry it. If true to their Lord, they must go outside the camp, bearing His reproach. If they keep conscience
pure, they must accept cruel mockings, scourging, imprisonment, banishment, and death. In this way would
God separate unto himself a "peculiar people, zealous of good works." The others may be of use in degree, yet
to prevent general defection and universal declension, God winnows the wheat.
But who were thrown out of the Presbyterian Church in the reign of Charles II.? Were they not the strong,
unyielding, uncompromising Covenanters? Who are these separated from their brethren, and driven like chaff
before the wind over mountains and moors? Are they not the zealous defenders of the Reformed faith? the
true soldiers of Jesus Christ? To the casual eye the scrupulous, strong-headed, hard-fighting Covenanters were
tossed out, and the rest remained at home to distribute the prey; the lax party had the organization and held the
Church; the strict party suffered disintegration and were banished. But such a view is only superficial; yea, it
is a visual illusion.
The Church of Christ depends not on external organization. She can live without assemblies, presbyteries, or
sessions. She can enjoy the fullest measure of the love of Christ without chapels, masses, or glebes. She can
have power and render service in any community, without ministers, elders, or deacons.
When the Covenanters were driven out by the persecutor, the Covenanted Church went forth into the
wilderness, leaning upon the Lord Jesus Christ her Beloved. She brought with her all the essentials. She had
the Bible, the Covenant, the faith, the sacraments, the Holy Spirit, the love of God, and the presence of the
Lord Jesus Christ. The valleys were her places of worship; her meeting houses were fitted up with stone seats,
rock pulpits, granite walls, green carpets, and azure ceilings. A row of stones was her sacramental table, and
the purling stream her baptismal bowl. The mountains round about were filled with angelic hosts, and the
plains were covered with the manna of heaven; the banner of Christ's love waved over the worshipers, and the
glory of God filled the place. Such was the Church of the Covenanters in the times of persecution.
The king and his advisers in 1662 required of the Covenanted Church what no faithful self-respecting
Covenanter could render. The demands in substance were:
That the oath of allegiance, embodying the king's supremacy over Church and State, shall be taken.
That the ministers in preaching and praying shall not refer to public sins, whether committed by the king or
his parliament.
That the administration of the Church shall be, to some extent, according to the Prelatic form.
That the edicts of the king and the enactments of parliament shall not be questioned, even in the light of God's
Word.
That the ministers shall comply with these demands, or be banished from their respective homes, parishes, and
presbyteries.
Such was the sieve that did the work. What loyal heart could brook these terms? What minister of Christ, bent
on preserving honor and conscience, could remain in charge of his church? In comparison with the Covenant,
all earthly inducements were as rotten straw, in the judgment of those whose eyes took in the world of glory
and rested on the Lord.
Two hundred Covenanted ministers quietly accepted the penalty. On the last Sabbath of October, 1662, they
preached their farewell sermons. The churches were crowded; the grief of the people was indescribable,
heart-groans broke into loud lamentations. "There was never such a sad day in Scotland as when the poor
persecuted ministers took their leave of their people." Two hundred more stood their ground and fought the
battle a little longer. These were forcibly ejected. Thus that desolating blast smote four hundred congregations
of Covenanters.
The winter storms were descending upon the man of God and his unprotected family, as they walked across
the glebe to return no more. They went out, not knowing where they were going. Night may fall upon them in
a dreary place; to-morrow may come to them without a roof, or a table, or a fire. Winter may drive them into a
cold cave, where possibly some good-hearted shepherdess may find them, and share with them her pail of
milk and oaten cakes. Withal no complaints. They have taken joyfully the spoiling of their goods for the sake
of Christ. By them the reproach of Christ was accounted better than the riches of Egypt.
Alexander Peden was one of the fighting ministers. He preached till forced to leave his pulpit. On the day of
his farewell service the congregation was convulsed with grief. Peden had to restrain the wails of the people
again and again. Coming down from the pulpit after service, he shut the pulpit door and struck it three times
with his Bible, saying with great emphasis, "I charge thee, in my Master's name, that no man ever enter thee,
but such as come in by the door as I have done." The pulpit kept the solemn charge; no one entered there till
after the persecution; it remained empty twenty-six years.
Prelatic ministers were sent to fill the 400 vacant pulpits, but the people refused to hear them. The time of
field-preaching had now come; the Conventicles in the mountains and moors became the order of the day.
The ministration of the Gospel of Jesus Christ—that river of God which makes glad the city of the
Lord—had now reached the precipitous places where it was broken upon the rocks; yet it continued to
flow, and even increase in volume and strength. The preaching by these ministers in the desolate places was
powerful, impetuous, majestic, thunder-like amid the mountains, making the kingdom tremble. Great trials
make great men.
We live in an easy age. Ministers may now have pulpit and salary on easy terms. They can preserve a good
conscience without special self-denial. No providential issue now to separate the false from the true. But the
ease of conscience in the Church's ministry, and the easy terms of communion in her membership, may
change God's gold and make it dim with dross, and thus necessitate a furnace. The Lord may suddenly spring
an event upon His Church, that will compel the true to be very true, and the false to be very false. Where will
we stand in case the trial come?
1. What effect had the death of Argyle and Guthrie on the Covenanters?
XXVI.
Such were the terms on which the Covenanted ministers might continue their work. They were given one
month to reach a decision. The conflict of interests that tried the famous 400 ministers none knew but God.
Home, wife, children, salary, comfort, tender ties, future supplies, and the welfare of the
congregation—oh, how much was involved in that decision! Can the husband, the father, the shepherd,
the watchman arise and forsake all? Can he suspend the high calling, sunder the holy ties, abandon the field
and flock, and go forth, not knowing whither he goeth? can flesh and blood endure the ordeal?
But look at the other side. Will the servant of the Lord take orders from man? Will the ambassador of God
submit to be muzzled? Will a pastor of Christ's flock hold his position for what he finds in the flesh-pot? Will
the preacher of righteousness connive at wickedness? Will the herald of Gospel liberty become a slave to
vilest men? Such was the other outlook. Which way will the man of God take?
The Lord made the way of faithfulness hard to travel. Only they, who, like Caleb, followed the Lord wholly,
could walk therein. To make this choice, the love of the Lord Jesus Christ had to arise in the heart and surge
through all the veins, above love for wife, or children, or house, or lands, or brethren, or sisters, or self; and it
must consume all these in the flames of its vehemence.
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On November 1, 1662, three-fourths of the Covenanted ministers were brought to this valley of decision. The
king's edict took effect upon those who had been settled within the past thirteen years; the others, for the time,
were exempted. About 700, therefore, stood at the parting of the ways. Of this number about sixty per centum
chose to suffer with Christ, that they might reign with him; the rest, being faint-hearted, abode by the stuff.
All honor to the Church that could muster such a proportion of self-sacrificing, ministers! These men accepted
the challenge and went forth, like soldiers, into the field of action, saying, "We will continue the conflict till
we overcome, or hand it down in debate to posterity."
Four hundred ministers expelled from their congregations! four hundred churches left vacant! four hundred
families rendered desolate! forty thousand of God's sheep, and as many lambs, left to wander in the wilderness
without a shepherd! who can estimate the extent of such a calamity? who can reckon the sorrows, sufferings,
and stupendous losses, public and private, caused by this iniquitous act of the king?
These men of God were devoted preachers, they loved to preach, had a passion for preaching. The Word of
God that carried them into such excess of suffering was in their bones as fire, an unquenchable flame; and in
their hearts as rising waters, an overflowing river. As Christ their Lord and Master preached in summer and in
winter, in the house and in the field, to as many as came, so preached they to one soul, or to ten thousand.
The king sent detachments of his army over the country to compel the people, who had lost their pastors, to
attend services under the ministers of the Episcopal Church. They refused. The new clergymen preached to
empty pews in many of the Covenanted parishes. The Covenanters instinctively discovered the haunting
places of their own ministers, and thither they repaired for their preaching. They traveled far that they might
hear the precious Gospel, in its richness and fulness from consecrated lips. They were hungry for the Word of
God and willingly incurred hardships and dangers to get a feast. These meetings at first were small; in time
they developed into the great Conventicles at which thousands assembled to worship God.
A Conventicle Sabbath was a solemn day. The time and place having been fixed beforehand, the people were
notified in a very private manner. A kind of wireless telegraphy seemed to have been operated by the
Covenanters. The news spread and thousands came at the call. The place selected was usually in the
depression of a lonely moor, or under the shelter of a desolate mountain; yet any spot was dangerous. The
king had issued successive proclamations against the Conventicles, and his troops were constantly scouring
the country in search of them.
The services were of necessity sensational. At the appointed time the people were on the ground. Many came
a great distance, some of them traveling under the shades of night. From every direction they converged.
Fathers and mothers with their sons and daughters were there. The young and the old were equally full of zeal,
and the women were courageous as the men. On the way they would cannily scan the country from the hilltop,
to see if the dreaded dragoons were in sight.
The hour for the service having arrived, the audience sat down upon the grass or on the rocks. The minister
took his stand on a prominent spot. Sentinels occupied elevated points, from whence they could detect and
report the approach of troops. The mountain extended its friendly shelter over the congregation. The sun shed
its light upon them like the smile of their heavenly Father. The sky spread over them as the canopy of God's
high throne. The winds swept through the bushes and over the heather with regaling freshness. This was God's
sanctuary built without hands; here His people worshiped in spirit and in truth.
The minister from his granite pulpit would catch the inspiration. The waiting people, the earnest faces, the
gleaming eyes, the solemn hour, the charming scenery, the occasion, the danger, the privilege, the
responsibility, the presence of God, the nearness of heaven—how much here to awaken all that was
noble, courageous, and overpowering in God's messenger! The fiery, pathetic, powerful eloquence, that
echoed among those rocks and swept through the coves, was beyond the reporter's skill. Here heaven touched
earth; eternity overlapped time; glory overspread the worshipers. These were days when that which is most
sacred, awful, and sublime burdened men's souls. Here holy oratory distilled like dew, breathed like zephyrs,
crashed like storms, leaped like devouring flames. The recorded sermons of these ministers are yet regarded as
the very marrow of Christian literature.
Have we the zeal of these fathers for the house of our God? Are we carried to the place of worship at the
appointed hour by our love for Jesus Christ? One glance at the enthusiasm of the Conventicle Covenanters
would surely make the present generation blush.
1. State the demands Commissioner Middleton made upon the Covenanted ministers.
7. How will present zeal for Divine services compare with their zeal?
XXVII.
The love of Jesus for His Church has ever been excessive in intensity. His blood was shed for her redemption.
Love laid Him on the altar, where His life was consumed for her sake. It laid all Covenant blessings at her
feet, placed the angelic hosts at her service, made the universe tributary to her welfare, opened heaven for her
admission, prepared her throne at the right hand of God, and gave the eternal ages to her for service and
enjoyment, in Jesus Christ her Lord. And this love has never abated; His voice resounds across the centuries,
falling upon her ears in sweetest accents, saying, "I have loved thee with an everlasting love."
The Lord Jesus asks the Church for reciprocal love. It is His due; Christ is worthy; nothing less than vehement
love will satisfy the Divine heart. The apostle, in dread of its subsidence, cries out, "Keep yourselves in the
love of God." How readily the Church, in interest and zeal, becomes cold. Her spiritual pulse sinks till it is
scarcely perceptible; the flames disappear, and the coals lie hidden in their own grey ashes.
With such conditions the Lord is vexed. He gently chides His inconstant Bride, saying, "Thou hast left thy
first love. Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen; repent, and do the first works." Then in unwaning
faithfulness He tenderly soliloquizes: "Behold, I will allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak
comfortably unto her; and she shall sing as in the days of her youth." The Covenanted Church was now in the
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wilderness; the Lord had brought her hither, that He might woo her back to Himself, and revive her first love.
Here He spake to her heart the words that rekindled the fires of her earliest and strongest devotion to the
Covenant, that holy contract of her marriage to the Lord.
The loving fidelity of the 40,000 Covenanters, or more, who had been deprived of their ministers by King
Charles, was severely tested. The Lord Jesus, in His crucial providence, was to them as a refiner's fire; their
love was sorely tried in the terrible heat.
The first question that appealed to the heart was concerning comfort and convenience. Their churches were
occupied by other ministers. There the people could have preaching, hear the Word, listen to prayers, sing
Psalms, and receive baptism and the Lord's Supper. True, the services were spiced and ornamented with
details, which the Covenanters disliked, because they were unscriptural. But could they not find hidden manna
on the sand, and kernels of wheat in the chaff? Could they not get sufficient food in the new ministrations to
sustain their souls? Could they not reach heaven by the new road as certainly as by the old? Such were the
inquiries that appealed to their love of ease. These sturdy sons of the Covenant said, "NO." They said it, too,
with emphasis like the lightning that strikes the oak. They said, "Public worship, not in all parts according to
the Book of God, is corrupt; we will not participate in such services, for the Lord has said, 'Cursed be the
deceiver, that sacrificeth unto the Lord a corrupt thing.'"
The second question was concerning the imminent dangers that attended their own services. Their meetings
were held in distant places; in the lonely mountain, on the homeless moor, in the swampy moss, in the dark
glen, among the rugged rocks, and in the dreary cave—just wherever they could find a place to worship
God in peace. They had no roof for shelter, no walls to break the storm, no fires for heat. Attending these
meetings involved travel, weariness, hunger, exposure, loss of sleep, shivering in the cold, every physical
strain, besides the risk of life, liberty, and property, at the hands of the enemy. These heroic sons and
daughters of the Covenant said, "We will go; if we perish, we perish; though He slay us, yet will we trust in
Him." These Covenanters would not habituate themselves to sinful conditions, nor permit their conscience to
be drugged with the love of ease. They had much of the spirit of Paul; they counted all things loss for the
excellency of the knowledge of Christ. They consulted not with flesh and blood; not even with their own
flesh, which was often wasted with hunger, fatigue, and pain; nor with their own blood, which was frequently
sprinkled on the heather and mingled with the mountain rill.
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
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.
3. How does Jesus reprove His people for growing feeble in love?
5. What two questions did the Covenanters face in attending Conventicle services?
XXVIII.
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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.
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
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?
XXIX.
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.
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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.
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:
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
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?
XXX.
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
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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.
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.
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.
5. What three men were in great part responsible for the cruelties?
XXXI.
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.
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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.
Anniversary of a Conventicle.
What were the conditions upon which these ministers returned? We give them in substance:
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.
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."
XXXII.
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
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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.
Battle of Drumclog.
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!
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
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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:
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.
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.
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.
XXXIV.
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
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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.
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.
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.
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.
XXXV.
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
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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.
Claverhouse.
overcome the whole world, and cover the earth with glory, as the waters cover the sea.
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;
"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?
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:
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
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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.
Monument at Ayrsmoss.
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.
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.
XXXVII.
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
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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.
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".
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?
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
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."
XXXVIII.
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
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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.
Donald Cargill.
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
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.
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?
XXXIX.
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.
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Earlston Castle
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.
"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?
4. What official act did he perform on the king and six others?
XL.
Those were days of woeful declension. Defection had swept the great body of Covenanters from their basis.
Under the strain of persecution and the snare of the royal Indulgence, many ministers and people had
abandoned wholly, or in degree, Reformation grounds. The Society People alone refused to make concessions
by which truth would be suppressed, conscience defiled, or any divine principle surrendered. They stood by
the Covenant, and accepted the consequences, including hardest service and greatest sufferings.
The Society People have been censured for exclusiveness; they refused to associate with others in the worship
of God, and would hear no ministers except their own. But why? Consider their reason, then let them be
judged. These people stood alone simply because they had been left alone; these soldiers of Christ had been
deserted while holding the ground won by their fathers at the cost of much blood. They stood where the Lord
Jesus Christ had placed them, giving them a solemn charge to keep the oath, and defend His royal rights.
Should they then be reprimanded, for not joining in the general stampede? What saith the Lord? "If any man
draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him."
From the fortress of the Covenant these veterans of Christ heroically waved the Blue Banner, declaring to
their brethren, and to the world, that by the grace of God they would never surrender. They were the real
Covenanters, the true blue, the old stock. They were not a faction; they were the remnant. They stood on the
original ground; the others had broken the Covenant and had departed. These were the core, the center, the
substance, the personnel, the integral force, the organized body, the visible form, of the Covenanted Church in
those days. The Societies were the continuity of the Church that had flourished in the days of Knox, and took
on later and greater glory in the times of Henderson. They were the same Church, holding the same faith, the
same Covenant, and the same services.
The Society People were not the branch; they were, the trunk from which the branches had fallen. The
branches were strewn around; but the trunk, though broken and disfigured, was still deeply rooted in Covenant
soil, and full of life.
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The persecutors more than ever concentrated their fire upon these people. They were pursued and shot like
game. Liberal rewards were offered for their leaders. Yet they stood by their Covenant; they would not yield
an hairbreadth. Fidelity to Christ swallowed up every other consideration; it was the burning passion of their
lives.
These societies were numerous, extending over a wide area. They were held together by delegations which
met quarterly. By this means harmony of spirit, purpose, and action was preserved. They stood like a square
of veterans, facing the enemy on every side. They even took aggressive steps, delivering in the most public
manner their testimony against the tyranny of the king and the defection of the Church. The minutes of these
General Meetings have been preserved; they furnish interesting reading.
After the death of Cargill these people had no minister. A few ministers, like Alexander Peden, were still
untainted, but they would not join these strong-headed Covenanters in their war against the king. They
regarded the Society People as extremists and fanatics. The societies suffered more seriously from reproach
and misrepresentation by the brethren than from persecution, though that was growing fiercer every day. But
these were men who reckoned with conscience and with God; not with consequences nor with man. Fidelity to
Christ was their first and only choice.
These immovable Covenanters were now undergoing the severest trial of faith. They were hunted, seized,
tortured, shot, hanged, destroyed, in the most infernal manner. They were shown neither mercy nor justice.
But the most crushing distress was the reproach heaped upon them by retrograde Covenanters. By these they
were defamed as dangerous men, disloyal to their country and a disgrace to religion. All the ministers, through
fear or with scorn, had forsaken them. This was harder to endure than fire, gibbet, and sword combined. They
issued a pathetic call to the pastors to come back and tend this flock of God. The call was like the wail of lost
children crying for a father's care and pity. It contained these assuring words:
"We will hear all ministers, whether in houses or fields, who will preach according to the Word of God, our
Covenants, Confession of Faith, and Catechisms, Larger and Shorter, that will embrace this, our call."
The call was presented to as many as could be found, and was declined by every one. These that declined their
call were the ministers who, twenty years previous, had been expelled from their churches, because they
would not abandon their Covenant and submit to the king. And these were the people who had followed them
into the wilderness, gathered about them in great Conventicles, enjoyed wonderful Communions under their
ministry, and adventured their lives in their defence. Now the flock was forsaken; the shepherds had fled.
The General Meeting resolved, in 1682, to educate four young men for the ministry, among whom was James
Renwick. These were sent to college. Renwick was ordained in 1684.
Each society endeavored to hold a meeting every Sabbath for Divine worship. This went far to supply the
spiritual nourishment which the ministers had failed to give. The "Society" is a sweet memory, lingering still
in the hearts of some of our aged people. There are Covenanters who can yet recall the old-fashioned prayer
meeting, then known as the Society which descended from the times of persecution They can remember how
half a dozen families, sometimes more, sometimes less, came quietly together on Sabbath morning to one of
their homes. The atmosphere, within and without, was pervaded with holy awe. A quiet joy, subdued with
gravity, beamed in all faces. The largest room in the house was crowded with men, women, and children; the
chairs were supplemented with boards, cushioned with quilts, for seats. At 11 a.m. the worship of God began.
Order of exercises:
These societies were the deep roots of the Covenanted Church. By means of them, she became thoroughly
indoctrinated in the Word of God and His holy Covenant. In these meetings the elders became like ministers
in the knowledge of Christ, and the people like elders. The feeble in Israel waxed strong as the house of
David, and the house of David as the angel of the Lord. There were giants in those days.
The Covenanted Church must revive the society spirit and exercises, if she would recover her vitality; she
must resume these spiritual athletics if she would feel the glow of healthy vigor. These roots have suffered
decay; therefore the trees are easily upturned. When Social worship of God characterizes the Church, the
people will take on strength and be able to stand amidst the spiritual landslides and general defection that
characterizes the times in which we live.
XLI.
The Covenanter's marriage, in those days, was both serious and romantic. The bride always loves to open her
eyes upon rosy prospects, but persecution in that generation shattered the beautiful dream. Her future was then
like a landscape, over which storm followed storm, with only alternate blinks of sunlight. Husband and wife
were in jeopardy every hour; to-morrow the wedding gown might be the winding sheet. When John Knox
found the woman of his choice, he said, "My bird, are you willing to marry me?" She replied, "Yes, Sir." Then
tenderly and firmly he added, "My bird, if you marry me, you must take your venture of God's providence, as
I do. I go through the country on foot, with a wallet on my arm, and in it a Bible, a shirt, and a clean band; you
also may put some things in for yourself; and you must go where I go, and lodge where I lodge." "I'll do all
this," she blithely answered. They lived long, and were happy in the bonds of that blessed wedlock. Once as
they journeyed across the county she took the hand-baggage, and hastening ahead sat on the hilltop awaiting
his coming. As he came up she humorously said, "Am not I as good as my word?"
The women often showed fidelity to Jesus Christ and His Covenant that amazed the persecutors. They scorned
the suggestion of relief for themselves or their families that would compromise the truth of Christ. John
Welch, of Ayr, lay in prison fifteen months because his preaching did not please the king. The dungeon in
which he was confined is yet pointed out in Blackness Castle, a dark, dismal, pestilential vault. A recent
traveler said that he had gotten enough of its horrors in five minutes to do him. But poor Welch had to abide
there "five quarters of ane yier." Mrs. Welch visited the king in person to plead for his release. "Yes," said the
king, "if he will submit to the bishops." "Please Your Majesty," said Mrs. Welch, holding up the corners of
her apron, "I'd rather kep his head here." The faithful wife was willing to witness her husband's execution,
rather than have him betray the cause of Christ or break his Covenant with God.
Many a martyr got his inspiration for duty from God, through his noble wife. When James Guthrie came to a
difficult task, he seemed to hesitate. Great interests were involved. May he not modify a certain ministerial
action so as to save his life, provide for his family, and continue to shepherd his flock? Who would not pause
in presence of such a serious consideration? His wife, observing his perplexity, came into his presence with a
cheery countenance and an assuring voice, saying, "My heart, what the Lord gives you light and clearness to
do, that do." The light carried him into the service; the conscience was set free from the temporary
disturbance; yet the decision brought him to the scaffold; it placed upon his brow the martyr's crown. The
worthy wife sadly went into widowhood, and the children into orphanage, through that strong, womanly spirit
which could brook no deviation from duty.
The women frequently were placed in embarrassing positions. In marriage they were not always equally
yoked. When the husband was a persecutor, faithfulness in the house and fidelity to Jesus required the highest
wisdom on the part of the wife. Lady Anne Rothes occupied such a home. Both she and her husband were
born Covenanters. The Covenant principles were bred in the bone, instilled into the thoughts, and impressed
on the conscience, at the parental fireside, at the family altar, in the house of God, and at the Table of the
Lord, while they were under the care of their parents; but the young man forsook his father's God, dishonored
the Covenant, and cast off religion. He became a profligate and persecutor. The woman, through the abundant
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grace of God, remained true to the Covenant. Her position, however, involved her in many a dilemma. The
wedlock that promised to be a blessed union proved to be a galling yoke. The husband was placed in power by
the king, and granted the title of duke. On one occasion, when entertaining Archbishop Sharp, the two grew
merry over their plan to put certain Covenanters to death. The tender-hearted woman, sitting with them at the
table, was greatly distressed, yet she wisely concealed her feelings. Having the information, however, she was
able to send out timely warning to the Covenanters. In this way she saved their lives, not once, nor twice.
Rothes, too, in his better moments, assisted her in protecting the persecuted. When about to send his soldiers
to apprehend the Covenanters, at times he would say to her with a twinkle in his eye, "My lady, the hawks
will be out to-night, so you had better take care of your chickens."
Consolation in Prison.
And what shall we say more of Isabel Alison, Marion Harvie, Margaret Dun, Barbara Cunningham, Janet
Livingston, Anne Hamilton, Margaret Colville, Marion Veitch, and the long list of worthy women, which the
pen of man will never complete?
The Covenanted Church is largely dependent on the women for spirit, courage, fidelity, and activity in the
service of Christ. The grace of God, abounding in the women, will cause the Church to arise and do valiant
work. When mothers, wives, sisters, and daughters beam with devotion to Christ and His Covenant; when
their voice is resonant with holy courage in the Lord's cause; when their lives are sublime with deeds of heroic
faith; then will the Church become "beautiful as the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as
an army with banners." Jesus said unto her, "O woman, great is thy faith; be it unto thee even as thou wilt."
3. Describe the loyalty of Mrs. Welch, both to her husband and to the Covenant.
8. How is the Church dependent on woman, for spirited and successful work?
XLII.
God's Covenant with the fathers included mothers, sons, and daughters. It also embraced future generations.
"The promise is unto you, and to your children, and to all that are afar off, even as many as the Lord our God
shall call." The Covenant of our fathers was their acceptance of God's promise on His own terms. The terms
were these: unswerving fidelity to His truth, and steadfastness in His service. They who were true in spirit,
honest at heart, firm in purpose, and consistent in life, were able to enter into the deep, broad, marvelous
meaning of the Covenant. The secret of the Lord was with them. The Holy Spirit came upon them with power,
shed light, gave strength, ministered comfort, inspired hope, produced courage, wrought wonders. In their
presence the wilderness blossomed as the rose; gardens sprang up in the solitary places; the apple tree bore
fruit in the woods. The Lord Jesus Christ was with them in the rich abundance and wonderful variety of His
grace; they dwelt in the heavenly places; glory covered the ground whereon they trod.
The children of the Covenanters, being included in the Covenant, suffered with their parents in the
persecution, and received also the recompense of reward. A few of these lovely lives may be mentioned, but
the fascinating story of thousands will never be told. The few, however, will suggest the many. We look at a
bunch of violets, then think of the acres of delicate beauty bathing in the warm sunbeams and fluttering in the
soft winds.
The young Covenanters in those days confronted severest conditions and learned hardest lessons in
discipleship. Sometimes they had to forsake father and mother to prove themselves worthy of Christ. Andrew
Forsyth, verging on manhood, was required to drink this bitter cup. The family had not yet espoused the
Covenanted cause. One day Andrew was entrusted with a flock of sheep for the market. He was over night on
the way. As he lay that night guarding his sheep in the field, he heard solemn music. Following the sound, he
came to a moss-hag, where a group of Covenanters were worshiping God. A moss-hag is a cut on the hillside,
formed by frost and rain; and overhung with moss, heather, and other growths. In such places the pursued
Covenanters often hid themselves. The cold grotto was their house; the damp earth their bed; the hole cut out
of the hill without hands their sanctuary. Andrew listened with breathless interest. They were singing a Psalm
of David. Then followed an earnest prayer. Tie could not endure the suspense, but revealed himself to the
little company. They received him gladly, and spent hours talking of Christ, His precious blood, His amazing
love, His royal glory, and His unrivalled supremacy. Andrew was a Covenanter when he went home. His
father was angry, his mother was sorry, and he had to leave. In a distant moor he made himself a bed under a
booth of heather and moss, and supported himself by working for the neighboring shepherds. The dragoons
heard of his affiliation with the Covenanters, and were quickly on his path; his life was ever in danger. One
day they fired on him, but he escaped and reached his mossy den, carrying a bullet wound received from their
fire. There he lay several days, suffering, bleeding, hungry, lonely, and helpless, yet full of peace and joy in
the Lord. Often did he think of his father's house, and his mother's love; of the gentle hands that had in other
days smoothed his bed and made his bread; yet his heart bloomed with thoughts of the love of Jesus Christ
and His sweet promises. His religion had cost much, but he never regretted the bargain by which he had lost
the world and gained his soul. At length a shepherd found him, and kindly ministered to his wants. This good
boy lived to be an old man, whose grey hair was a crown of glory.
The young people often manifested presence of mind equal to those of riper years. Bessie Willison was one of
those brilliant characters. Once she heard of a Field-meeting to be held under trying circumstances and
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resolved to attend it. It was winter; the ground was covered with snow; the place was distant and difficult to
reach; the weather was rough; the journey was perilous; dragoons might be met at any turn of the road. What
girl would brave such hardships for a day's preaching? Bessie arrayed herself in her winter wraps, and started
early in the morning. She was willing to endure hardness for the Lord's sake. She could face the driven snow,
or sit on an icy stone, or laugh at the blasts that reddened her cheeks, in order to hear the Word preached by a
true servant of God. She walked alone; yet not alone, for her heart burned within her while the Lord talked
with her by the way. As the road led around a hill, she suddenly came upon a troop of dragoons. They drew up
their horses, soldier-like, and spoke rudely to her; she replied with much dignity. They persisted in their vile
language, taunting her and railing on the Covenanters. But even with their horses, guns, swords, and rough
speeches, they were unable to daunt the lonely girl. Conscious of purity, and flaming with indignation, her
eyes flashing into their faces, she administered a reproof that cut like a lancet. They shrank and made room for
her to pass on without further molestation. What inspiration would come to the Field-meeting from the
presence of a Covenanter like that! The Lord was with her, and therefore she brought joy and strength to
others.
The little children, too, had their difficult places in Scotland's hard fight for liberty. The persecution still
increased in violence. At length when for any reason a town had fallen under the king's displeasure, all the
inhabitants were subject to punishment. On one occasion, the people had been warned of the coming of
dragoons. The parents, not being able to take their children with them, and hoping the "bairns" would find
pity, left them and fled to a hiding-place. The children were sharply interrogated by the soldiers concerning
their parents, but gave no satisfaction. They were then led to a field and placed in front of the soldiers. This
greatly terrified them, but they would reveal nothing. The officer commanded his men to take aim. Up went
the guns; the sight was dreadful for children; yet they would give no information. "Lead us to the
hiding-place, or you will be shot," cried the officer. There were sobs, tears, and trembling, but no response.
Andrew Hislop was but a youth when he suffered death for Christ's Crown
and Covenant. He was taken while crossing a field, and sentenced to die on
the spot. He bravely faced the guns that were levelled at his brow. Many,
other boys of that period were equally heroic. Four of them, who were
captured in a group, replied thus to their captors, when told that they must
be shot: "We are to die, you say? Glorious news! Christ is no worse than
He promised."
"Will it hurt much, Janet?" said a little boy, as he clasped the hand of his sister.
"I dinna ken, Willie," replied the sister tenderly, "but I'm sure it will na last lang."
"Fire!" shouted the officer. The terrible volley flashed from every gun. Some of the children dropped, thinking
they had been shot. The soldiers had been told to shoot over their heads to frighten and not kill. The officer,
outmatched by the brave children, and we hope heartily ashamed of himself, led his men away. As they rode
off, the children sang:
Their sweet voices mingled with the dying clatter of the horses' hoofs.
The young bridegroom and his bride were also involved in hardships that tried their souls. The soldiers that
raided the country had equal disregard for old age, youth, and infancy. The mother, whether surrounded by a
houseful of children, or clasping her first infant on her bosom, found no pity. One morning the dragoons
surrounded the house of a happy couple, John and Sarah Gibson. They had come to seize both, whether to kill
or imprison was not yet determined. John was absent; Sarah, seeing the troopers gallop toward the house,
poured a prayer over her babe, as it lay asleep in the crib, and fled in terror, hoping that sweet infancy would
appeal to their hearts. A ruffian rushed in, and grasping the babe, shouted, "The nurse is not far away." He
made it scream, to bring the mother back. She heard its pitiful cry; her heart was breaking, yet she was utterly
powerless. She might expose herself, but she could not help the infant. They carried it away. She was almost
insane with grief. The soldiers, going back from the house, met the father, but he was not identified. They,
being bewildered on the moor, compelled him to be their guide. He saw the child, but did not recognize it as
his own. The officer, ashamed of the cruel deed, ordered the man who had carried off the babe to take it back
to the house. He galloped off and laid it again in the crib. The mother quickly clasped it to her bosom. That
night the father returned. Telling of his adventures, he mentioned the babe he had seen with the soldiers. The
mother, bursting into tears, arose and laying the infant in his arms said, "This is the babe you saw."
The young people are the hope of the Church. The congregation whose young people are loyal to Christ and
true to the Covenant is greatly blessed of God. The Covenant embraces children, claims their allegiance, calls
for their service, honors them with responsibilities, and lays at their feet the privileges and beatitudes of the
kingdom of heaven.
6. Describe the cruelty done to the babe of Mr. and Mrs. Gibson.
7. What may the Church expect, when her young people are true?
XLIII.
They discovered also a second inspiration. The Holy Spirit inspires the devout reader. He opens the heart to
receive the Scriptures, and He opens the Scriptures to yield their meaning. Then, and only then, the Bible
appears in its true greatness. Then is it the effective voice of God, tender as the sob of a babe, and majestic as
thunder; it then is the temple of living truth, filled with the glory of the Lord's presence; it then is the
revelation of the eternal world, showing the beauty of holiness, the mystery of the cross, the conquest of
death, the horrors of sin, the doom of the lost, the joy of the saved. Oh, what a Book the Bible is to the
inspired reader! It becomes transparent. The light of the face of Jesus flashes from the lines and between the
lines, through the words and amidst the letters, turning the page into heaven's bright scenery, and the chapters
into the unveiling of the wonders of redemption. Such was the Book of God to the Covenanters, as they
passed through the fires of persecution.
The homeless Covenanters, wandering from place to place, carried the Bible with them. It was their faithful
guide and constant companion. When they were hungry, it was their food; when thirsty, it was their drink;
when forsaken, it was their friend; when wounded, it was their balm; when pursued, it was their refuge; when
condemned, it was their advocate; when executed, it was their welcome into heaven. When they retired to the
darksome caves, its promises made the dripping stones shine; when they sought shelter in the mountains, the
music of the Psalms cheered their hearts; when their blood bedewed the moss, the loud cry on Calvary
sanctified their pain; when they sat on the Bass Rock begirt with waves and swept by storms, the visions,
creations, and tumultuous grandeurs of Patmos were reproduced in the spiritual experience of these
illuminated sufferers, by means of the Word of God. To these devout Covenanters, the blessed Book yielded
up its wealth, breathed its deepest love, revealed its hidden glory. In their spiritual visions, the desert
blossomed at their feet, gardens flourished around them, harvests ripened for their sickle; summer drove back
the dreary winter; they verily dwelt in Immanuel's land.
The Covenanters loved the Bible more than their lives. In it they found eternal life, and counted all things but
loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ. Many instances are on record, showing their willingness to
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die, rather than abandon, or conceal, the Book of God. One man, M'Roy by name, was shot on the spot,
because he was found reading his Bible. It was Sabbath, a sweet summer day. That morning he drove his cows
to pasture, carrying the sacred Book with him. The field is a beautiful place for personal devotions. Here the
soul can luxuriate in prayer and meditation, holding fellowship with heaven. A solemn stillness had fallen
upon the broad landscape; nothing was heard but the notes of the plover, the bleating of the lambs, and the
grazing of the cows. M'Roy sat down on the soft grass, and opened the Book of God. He was then in his
element; he delighted in the law of the Lord. The sun poured down its blessings upon the fields, and a light
much brighter spread around his soul; the fragrant air fanned his brow, and sweeter aroma from the "mountain
or myrrh" refreshed his spirit. His heart was beating fast with the joys that were crowding into his inner life.
He was preparing, though he knew it not, for a crisis. Suddenly and rudely the spiritual reverie was
interrupted. Captain Lagg, with a company of horsemen, was dashing across that field, when their eyes fell
upon the lonely herdsman. They galloped to the spot where he sat in solemn composure.
"It is the Bible, Sir," meekly replied M'Roy, looking up into the face of the rough soldier, who held his
weapon ready for action. The confession sealed his death.
"Your cows must find another herdsman," sternly returned Lagg, who immediately delivered the fatal shot.
The bleeding body struggled a moment on the heath, then the ransomed spirit took its flight to brighter realms.
Covenanters Bibles
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?
5. Describe their devotion to the Word of God; the experience of McRoy; Andrew Hislop; Arthur Inglis.
XLIV.
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
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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."
When Peden was old, he wandered one day to the grave of Cameron.
There he sat down in deep meditation. Desolation brooded over the
scene. The solitude of his life, too, was crushing. His dearest
companions in persecution had fallen in the hard-fought battle. They
had received their crown, and were with the Lord in glory, while he was
yet pursued like a partridge on the mountains. His heart heaved a heavy
sigh, and from his lips came the memorable words, "O, to be wi Richie."
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.
• "Oh, my heart trembles within me, to think what is coming on the backsliding, soul-murdering
ministers of Scotland!
• "He is not worth his room, that prays not half his time, to see if he can prevent the dreadful wrath, that
is coming on our poor motherland.
• "Thirty-six years ago our Lord had a numerous train of ministers in Scotland, but one blast blew six
hundred of them away, and they never returned.
• "I shall tell you the right way of covenanting with God; it is when Christ and believers meet; and our
Lord gives them His laws, statutes, and commandments; and charges them not to quit a hoof of them;
no, though they should be torn into a thousand pieces. And the right Covenanter says, Amen."
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?
XLV.
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
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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."
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
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 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.
10. How may the young people arise in strength for church service?
XLVI.
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!"
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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.
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.
5. Describe the service some of them rendered; Hall, Nisbet, Garnock, Miller.
XLVII.
A HOME DESOLATED.
"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.
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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 Sorrow
Claverhouse and his troopers found John Brown on his farm digging turf. It
was in the morning. His fields were still dripping with dew, and his soul
moist with distillings of the 27th Psalm, which he had sung at family
worship. He was brought home, and shot at his door, in presence of his
wife and child. Mrs Brown suffered "neither fainting nor confusion, but her
eyes dazzled when the shots went off," according to her own story.
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:
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.
"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.
4. Who visited the home the evening before the sad event?
XLVIII
The Renwick home was beautiful for situation. It was located near the quiet town of Moniaive. The building is
gone, but the place is kept in remembrance by an attractive monument. The cottage stood on a hillside,
overlooking a charming valley, and beyond the valley, a range of mountains reaching to the clouds, glistening
with snow in the winter, and purple with heather in the summer. Young Renwick was a passionate lover of
nature. Oft did he sit on this grassy slope, where stands the monument, and gaze, and ponder, and dream, till
filled with amazement. Well did he know, that all the magnificence of earth and sky was but the shadow of the
glory beyond, the frills of the Creator's robe, the evidence of a personal God. This boy, like young Samuel,
did not yet know the Lord. He knew his Bible, his prayers, his Catechism, his Psalm-book, and his church; but
he had no personal acquaintance with God. This he eagerly sought. One day, as he gazed upon valley and
mountain, a wave of melancholy dashed upon his soul, and he exclaimed, "If these were devouring furnaces
of burning brimstone, I would be content to go through them all, if so I could be assured that there is a God."
Such agonizing for an experimental acquaintance with God is sure of reward. God revealed Himself. No great
light breaking through the sky fell upon him; but there came an inner illumination by the Holy Spirit, which
increased till his penetrating eyes saw God in everything; every bush was burning with His glory; every
mountain was clothed with His majesty; all the heavens were speaking His praise; and yet he saw a
thousand-fold more of the beauty of the Lord in the holy Covenant, and in the poor despised Covenanters who
kept the faith, than in all the grandeur of nature. Renwick in this deep experience had his introduction to God.
Oh, what a life we may expect of such a man! An introduction to God must result in a wonderful character.
Look out for the boy, who says that he must find God; his life will yet be transfigured with real greatness and
moral grandeur.
At the age of nineteen Renwick finished his university education. That year he witnessed the affecting sight of
Donald Cargill's martyrdom. The execution was public; curiosity and sympathy had collected an immense
throng around the scaffold, to see the old minister die. Renwick was in the crowd. He was not yet a
Covenanter. He pressed forward to hear and see all he could. The sight was deeply affecting. The venerable
man of God walked triumphantly to the place of execution. His hair was white with years and cares, his face
serene as an angel, and his voice clear and strong in his last testimony. He ascended the ladder with firm step,
and joyfully sealed the Covenant with his blood. Renwick gazed and trembled; his heart beat fast, and his eyes
grew moist. From that day he was a Covenanter. He there, and then, resolved to give his life for the same
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noble cause.
James Renwick.
There were no ministers of his own denomination to ordain him. The Church in Holland was not a
Covenanted Church, but a branch of the Presbyterian Church, and at that time it was burdened with
corruptions. But it was not guilty of Covenant-breaking, like the Church of Scotland. Therefore he sought
ordination in Holland. Now, this is the man who is acquainted with God. Observe what he does. In his trial
sermons, he laid bare the errors and faultiness of the Holland Church. What a daring step for a student of
theology! What a breach of ordinary courtesy! He placed conventional etiquette on the altar of truth, and
consumed it in the flames of zeal for God's House, and the purity of Divine worship. He would, then and
there, give faithful testimony; for the opportunity might no more return. Presbytery listened with amazement;
yet his arguments were so Scriptural, and his manner so gracious, they cordially sustained him. Next came the
act of subscribing the creed before ordination could be granted. This he positively refused to do, for it had not
the approval of his conscience. They yielded here also, permitting him to sign the Standards of the Church of
the Covenant. He won his way. Decorum was nothing to him, in comparison with conscience and God. He
then came back to Scotland, and visited the ministers, pleading with the Indulged to return to the Covenant,
and entreating the silent ones to come out of their caves, and make the land ring again with their voices. He
was small in person, slender and delicate, and scarcely yet out of his boyhood. He everywhere met with
repulse. Vexed and disappointed, he went alone, in the strength of the Lord, to the little flocks scattered over
the wilderness. The societies gathered about him; the Field-meetings were revived; the Lord poured out His
Holy Spirit in great power; the shout of a king was again heard in the camp of the Covenanters.
Renwick's ministry lasted about four years. During this time he seemed to be the most hated man in the world;
reproach, revenge, and hatred rolled over his head like breaking waves. He was called a deceiver, a fanatic, a
schismatic, a traitor. He was pursued by malicious rumors to blacken his name, and by armed men to shed his
blood. Yet he continued steadfastly on his way. Winter storms and summer rains could not abate his ardor.
Neither the advice of friends, nor the wrath of foes, could swerve him, no, not one moment, nor one
hairbreath. His spirit was on fire while his body was emaciated. A thousand arrows were flying around this
dove, some of them drinking its blood, yet was it singing.
One night he appeared at the door of John Brown. He was graciously received. A storm was sweeping the
moor. As he sat by the glowing fire, drying his dripping garments and warming his shivering body, he
remarked, "Reproach has not broken my heart; but the excessive traveling, and many exposures, have
weakened my body."
His mother and sisters visited him when in jail, awaiting his execution. Looking into their sad faces, he
cheered them up, by exclaiming, "Oh, how can I contain this, to be within two hours of the crown of glory!
Let us be glad, and rejoice. This death is to me, as if I were to lie down on a bed of roses." When the drum
sounded the signal for the execution, he cried out, "Yonder, the welcome warning; the Bridegroom is coming;
I am ready, I am ready." He died with the words of assurance on his lips: "Lord, into Thy hands I commend
my spirit."
Are present Covenanters acquainted thus with God? Have they the all-inclusive view of His glorious Trinity,
His personal presence, His revealed will, His exacting requirements, His omnipotent grace, His redeeming
love, His mediatorial kingdom, His everlasting Covenant? Have they the view that will keep them steadfast,
progressive, and enthusiastic in His service? They, who have an abiding acquaintance with God, will
eventually develop a life, that will be clear as the sun, deep as the sea, firm as the rock, and strong as the
cedar.
XLIX.
When the Blue Banner fell from Renwick's lifeless hand, Alexander Shields grasped it. He was scarcely
worthy. Though he had served well and suffered much in former years, yet once he had lapsed. This
temporary defection, while pardonable, proved to be a symptom of inherent weakness that unfitted him for
leadership. For his fault he shed tears, but they could not remove the stain, nor restore confidence. The
fearless Covenanters continued the struggle, their own spiritual momentum being sufficient to carry them
forward with or without leaders. The persecution had now reached its eventide; the sunset was showing some
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rosy tints; a bright day would soon be dawning. This year, 1688, William, Prince of Orange, with an army of
15,000, disputed the right of King James to the throne. The persecutor was able to give the Covenanters no
more attention. The coward fled without a battle. He lost his kingdom, and, with his fall, the house of the
Stuarts sank into oblivion, as had been predicted by the Covenanters.
James Renwick went to the scaffold in triumphant joy. There he read the 19th
chapter of Revelation—the prophecy of Christ's great battle and
victory—and sang part of the 103rd Psalm. He then lifted his eyes
heavenward, and said, "And now, Lord, I am ready. The bride, the Lamb's
wife, hath made herself ready." He suffered February 17, 1688, aged
twenty-six years. It was said by his enemies that he was the "stiffest
maintainer of Covenanted principles."
The Revolution filled the Covenanted Societies with high hope. They became enthusiastic supporters of the
new king, expecting him to inaugurate a reign of righteousness. A Convention of statesmen met in Edinburgh,
to readjust public affairs and restore peace. Claverhouse, too, was there, still dripping with the blood of the
martyrs. He had dashed suddenly upon the scene with his troops to break up the Convention, and give battle to
King William's supporters. The Convention was without a sufficient guard. The delegates were in danger. To
whom could they look for protection? Listen! The call is to the Cameronians; to the men who have borne the
brunt of persecution for twenty-eight years, and are now quietly returning from the moors and caverns to their
desolate homes. To these who have been hated and hunted and tortured and hacked to pieces—to these
the government now appeals for help. These, after all they have suffered, are the Reliables. They are the
recognized patriots, who stand ready for any sacrifice, and are worthy of any trust, in the name of liberty and
righteousness. "We are coming," was their quick reply. A regiment was mustered in one day without the beat
of a drum; two others were offered. The poor Covenanters were not now despised.
The persecution being over, the Church endeavored to resume her operations. The General Assembly
convened October 16, 1690, after a violent suspension lasting forty years. This Assembly was most
remarkable for its membership. There sat together three active Cameronian ministers, threescore other
Rev. Hugh Kennedy was chosen Moderator. The choice indicated the spirit of the Assembly. This man had
accepted the Indulgence, had given thanks for the Toleration, and had debarred from Communion the
Covenanters who had fought at Bothwell Bridge. The liberals had the meeting. Moderation, compromise,
unionism, a nauseating agreeableness pervaded the Court, like the miasma that broods over a stagnant pond.
The three Cameronians, Alexander Shields, Thomas Linning, and William Boyd, had courage to represent the
Covenanted Societies, by presenting their petition for the restoration of the General Assembly on Reformation
grounds, according to the Covenant of 1638. The petition was treated with contempt; it was not even read in
the Assembly. The three ministers winced, faltered, yielded. They fell beneath the popular wave, to rise no
more. These men, who had bravely faced persecution, were at last overcome by blandishment. The
Covenanted cause was at stake in that Assembly, as truly as it ever had been in the presence of Claverhouse
and his dragoons; and here the leaders surrendered.
The Covenanted Societies refused to follow their faithless guides into the General Assembly, to disappear
there in the strange blending of religious forces. These were men of conviction; they did not vary with the
weather; they thought for themselves. Some of them were aged and had seen the Covenant Temple of 1638,
with its strong foundation and imposing structure. They had seen the Reformation in its glory—the
Covenanted Church of Christ, purified, strengthened, and exalted, under the care of Henderson, Johnston,
Guthrie, Argyle, and others whose hearts God had touched; and now they saw this reconstruction. Ah, how
inferior! it was far removed from the true foundation; it was conspicuous only for its hay, wood, and stubble;
they saw and wept. The Covenanted cause was practically abandoned. What Satan could not win by fire and
sword, he had won by the enchantments of peace.
The Assembly submitted to the king's supremacy over the Church. King William, like the former rulers, had
seized the gem of Christ's authority and set it in his own crown. For this royal truth the martyrs had died. Now
their blood was reckoned an unnecessary expenditure. The Covenant was ignored, and its principles set aside;
the Church was placed on a new basis. Thus the glory of Scotland's Reformation sank behind a fog-bank that
has never yet cleared away.
The Covenanted Societies resolved to maintain their organization, as the true representatives of Scotland's
Reformation Church; the legitimate successors of Knox, Melville, Guthrie, Cameron, Cargill, and Renwick;
the rightful heirs of the Covenant, its obligations and blessings; the devoted witnesses of Jesus Christ, going
forth unto Him without the camp, bearing His reproach. They had much for which to contend. The supremacy
of Christ, the independence of the Church the Covenant of the fathers, the testimony of the martyrs, the purity
of Divine worship, the dignity of Church discipline—all had suffered at the hands of this Assembly.
Against the great defection they resolved to lift up a testimony. They would not deny their Covenant Lord, by
entering into relation with Church or State, as at that time constituted and administered. These Covenanters
were ridiculed as a fanatical, narrow-minded faction. James Renwick had been taunted with the question, "Do
you believe that none, but those of your principles, can enter heaven?" "I never said so," he replied; "but I do
say, These are principles worth suffering for." A noble reply to the sarcastic question which often reappears.
Narrow-minded! Breadth may be viewed from various positions. He, who attempts to broaden himself by
accepting error, becomes the narrow man. Every error adopted means a truth rejected. This process may
The Covenanters would not receive Gospel services from ministers who had broken Covenant with them and
with God. Sixteen years this flock was in the wilderness without a shepherd. They came together in societies
for spiritual fellowship and the worship of God. The Lord sustained them, and maintained their cause. At
length He sent them a minister, John McMillan; and thirty years later another, Thomas Nairn. By these the
Reformed Presbytery was organized, August 1, 1743.
Sir Robert Hamilton was the peerless champion of the pastorless people. He exhorted them, saying, "Labor to
keep the good old way, seeking to be found in His way when He cometh, keeping the Word of Christ's
patience, standing fast to your post, and close to your Master, in readiness to follow the Lamb whithersoever
He goeth; for the winds are now let loose; and it is to be feared, many shall be blown away."
And the pastorless people spake often one to another, saying, "Wherefore, we receiving a kingdom which
cannot be moved, let us have grace, whereby we may serve God acceptably with reverence and Godly fear:
for our God is a consuming fire. Let us go forth therefore unto Him without the camp bearing His reproach."
And Jesus encouraged them, saying, "He that endureth to the end shall be saved. Be thou faithful unto death,
and I will give thee a crown of life. To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my throne, even as I
also overcame, and am set down with, my Father in His throne."
L.
The persecution lasted twenty-eight years, with few "blinks" to take the chill of horror out of the air. During
this time, 18,000 persons, it is said, suffered death, or utmost hardships, for their faith in Jesus Christ. Of this
number, 7,000 went into voluntary banishment; 2,500 were shipped to distant lands; 800 were outlawed; 680
were killed in battle, or died of their wounds; 500 were murdered in cold blood; 362 were, by form of law,
executed. We have no account of the number that perished in shipwrecks, or succumbed to the horrors of
transportation; nor of hundreds that were shot at sight by the soldiers who ravaged the country for years; nor
of the thousands who wasted away through cold, hunger, and exposure in the mountains and moors. Gloomy
caves, dripping moss-hags, and unmarked graves, were asylums of mercy to multitudes, who are without any
earthly record; but their names are written in heaven. Truly Scotland has been consecrated to the Lord. The
blood of the martyrs has watered her heather, crimsoned her streams, stained her streets, and bedewed her
fields. Scotland is the Lord's. The blood means much.
The blood of the martyrs testifies to the value of the truth—the superlative importance of all revealed
truth. Their blood placed emphasis on the sovereignty of God, the supremacy of Christ, the inspiration of the
Bible, the preciousness of the Gospel, the independence of the Church, the liberty of conscience and the
thousand and one co-related doctrines of salvation. These Covenanters took their position at Christ's throne,
where the rainbow of the Covenant arches the heavens; and from that point of view the plan of salvation lay
before them, in matchless detail and glorious perspective. These men received enlightenment from the Holy
Spirit, and thereby had a broad, clear, rapturous vision of God and His redeeming grace. They saw the truth in
the harmonious teachings of the Bible, and esteemed it as God's sanctuary, filled with the presence of Jesus
Christ. These Covenanters found Christ in every particle of revealed truth, in every "jot," and in every "tittle"
of the Word of God. Christ's life was throbbing in it, His glory was streaming through it, His energy was
radiating from it. They were willing to lose the right eye, the right hand, the right foot, yea, life itself, rather
than lose the least fragment of the Scriptures. Rather would they be jostled out of their homes, and wander in
deserts, than depart from Bible doctrines. James Renwick was offered his life, if he would let a drop of ink fall
on a sheet of paper. He chose death in preference to that compromising act. Is the truth, the entire system of
truth, every stone in the temple of truth, thus dear to us?
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The Burial.
The burial service was peculiarly sad and solemn, in the times of
persecution. The deceased Covenanters were, in many cases, buried at
night, for fear of the enemy. The friends, with breaking hearts, gathered
around the new grave, and waited under the dim star-light, while the
minister, with the use of a flickering candle, offered consolation from the
Word of God. Great was the grief when one of the leaders had fallen in
death.
A WITNESSING CHURCH IS NEEDED.
The blood testifies to the need of a witnessing Church. While Satan remains above the pit, and iniquity
abounds in present proportions, a faithful and fearless testimony for Jesus Christ, and His glorious Gospel and
royal rights, will be a moral necessity. God has His own way of calling out His witnesses, and assigning
service to them. The Church, as a whole, has invalidated and incapacitated herself for this responsibility, by
weakness, declension, and compromise. God does not commit His testimony to the Church, while in such
condition; nor to the faithful in the Church, whose voice and actions are weakened or neutralized by
majorities. This important and hazardous task throughout the ages has not been committed to a Church, that is
recreant at any point; nor to individuals, that are true at every point; but to a distinctive body of earnest,
faithful, and fearless believers. For this purpose the Lord has divided, and sub-divided, His people time and
again. He will have a testimony by a Church that is distinct from every retrograde organization. While the
Covenanted Church was faithful under Henderson, Johnston, Guthrie, Gillespie, and other worthy leaders, she
was united, happy, and prosperous; "she was beautiful as the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and
terrible as an army with banners." But when she suppressed, by resolution, one principle of the Covenant, God
drew the dividing line. He sent the persecution that brought out His witnesses, four hundred ministers, and
people in proportion. And when these ministers weakened under the royal Indulgences, He intensified the
persecution and called out the "Cameronians." These witnesses He qualified to see the truth in its vast
proportions and feel it in its divine dreadfulness. They became the embodiment of the Gospel of Jesus Christ;
they were the incarnation of the doctrines of His kingdom on earth. They dwelt in the presence of God, lived
on the hidden manna, and pulsated with the power of the endless life. Such were the martyrs who defied death
and all the instruments of torture. Have the Covenanters of to-day spirit, power, and character like this?
The blood of the martyrs cries unto God for vengeance. "How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost Thou not
judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth?" Such was the cry of them that were "slain for
the Word of God, and for the testimony which they held." Vengeance in the Gospel! Vengeance in Jesus
Christ! Vengeance in the heart of God! How we are shocked! We try to veil our eyes and shut out the dreadful
fact. We attempt to explain away the terrible doctrine. Yet there it is. A sharp sword is sheathed in this
scabbard, and it will yet be drawn for dreadful work. "Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord." "And
shall not God avenge His own elect? I tell you that He will avenge them speedily." God is just as well as
merciful; yea, necessarily just, but conditionally merciful. Justice is an essential attribute of His life; mercy is
volitional. The blood of the martyrs, their groans, tears, wanderings, the desolation of home, the cries of
mothers and children, the horrors worse than death—all are ever before His face; nothing is forgotten.
Without repentance, no remission; sin does not grow feeble with, years, nor die of old age. Judgment must be
meted out, or rectitude would forsake the universe; the whole structure of God's kingdom would fall into
ruins. The guilty must suffer. The individual perpetrators of these horrid crimes have suffered already; they
have appeared personally before Christ's tribunal. But the State! Oh, the guilty State! The State was the chief
party in the slaughter of these innocents. True, she has ceased to shed the blood of saints; but has she repented
of the blood she has shed? Her eyes are dry; her brow is brass. Her children build monuments, but her hand's
are still red; the blood that once dripped is now dried, but it is still on her hands. Genuine repentance means
reformation. The Reformation is under Scotland's feet. The twenty-eight years' struggle is to her a splendid
drama; the principles are amusing. When He inquireth after blood, what shall Scotland do? The angel answers
in the Revelation: "They have shed the blood of saints and prophets, and Thou hast given them blood to
drink."
The blood of the martyrs imposes obligations upon posterity from generation to generation. The martyrs
deeply felt their responsibility for the Church, her purity, doctrines, discipline, membership; for her loyalty to
Christ, her separation from the world, and her administration in the Holy Spirit. Their zeal for the House of
God brought them to the front; their passionate love for Jesus Christ placed them on the firing line. There they
met every attack made upon Christ and His House; there they stood for the royal rights of Jesus and the honor
of His kingdom; there they fell under the murderous fire, giving place to their successors. These soldiers of
Jesus knew how to die, 'but not how to retreat. They did their work well, yet necessarily left it unfinished. The
victory was assured, though not in sight. The death-stricken hand reached the blood-stained banner out to
another to be carried forward. This war still rages. The supremacy of Jesus Christ is yet disputed; His royal
rights are yet usurped by mortals; His Bride, the Church, still halts amid many opinions; the ordinances of
grace are unblushingly corrupted; the teachings of the Gospel are adroitly doctored. The attacking forces are
active, determined, and numerous, as in the days of the martyrs. The tactics differ, but the fight goes on.
Heavy, heavy are the moral obligations, that fall to the successors of those who gave their lives for the truth.
To recede would be cowardice, desertion from the ranks, perjury within the Covenant, treason against Jesus
Christ. Is this too strong? Listen: "If any man draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him." Surely the
times call for Christian soldiers; yea, heroes; possibly, martyrs. Do Covenanters feel their obligations to the
Lord?
LI.
The men of the Covenant unfurled their colors with dauntless spirit, and went forth in the name of the Lord,
conquering and to conquer. And this is the victory by which they overcame the world, even their faith.
The Covenanters carried their banner as an emblem of the truth in Jesus Christ. The Bible focussed its light in
the burning words that flashed on their ensign. These fathers accepted the Bible without reservation or
apology, as God's Book, inspired, inerrable, authoritative, the rock foundation of faith, and the supreme law of
life. They grasped the wondrous system of redeeming truth, as bearing on their own lives, on the Church, on
the world, and on all generations to come. They embodied it in their Covenant, and wove it into their flag.
They saw all Bible truth converge in Christ, the Only Begotten of the Father, the Mediator of the Covenant of
grace, the crucified and risen Redeemer, the exalted Prince and Saviour; and on their banner they emblazoned
their faith. But while their profession was embroidered on their colors, their creed was pulsating in their veins.
This standard they carried boldly into the battle in defence of Christ and His Church. The deadly missiles that
tattered its folds, and plowed through their flesh, could not subdue their spirit. Their blood often stained it, but
it was never surrendered. One standard-bearer fell, and the flag-staff was grasped by another. Thus the Old
Blue Banner, in all its significance, has come down through the ages; it is the Covenanter's banner yet.
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sketches of the Covenanters, by J. C. McFeeters
The standard of truth is the real banner of the Covenant. The standard of religion in the Covenanted Church
exalts the truth of Christ, and makes it most conspicuous. Nothing in a nation so public as her colors. Where
the flag flies, the power, honor, and greatness of the country are represented by the folds that flap on the
winds. The Covenant commits the Covenanted Church to the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth
of God's Word. This obligation, when honored, carries the Covenanter into all truth, and all truth into the
Covenanter. The doctrines of grace will throb in his heart, flow in his veins, illumine his mind, dominate his
thoughts, deepen his life, enlarge his capacities, control his actions, and purify all the fountains of his being.
To all such the truth is concrete, not abstract; it has form, color, action, energy, atmosphere, horizon,
immensity: To the true Covenanter, knowledge is experience; he deals with God, worships in spirit, battles
with sin, glories in Jesus, and listens to the Eternal Spirit. His faith is power; his love is life; his hope is
realization. The invisible world looms up with awful visibility before him. Such is the life that is distinguished
by Covenant fidelity; in it the truth of God has grandest publicity. It shines like the sun. The voice of that life
has the majesty of thunder, testifying for Christ. They who are thus animated with the truth cannot hide the
great principles of the Church. They will glory in her Covenant and publish the truth. Behold the martyrs, how
they witnessed for Jesus Christ, while fire and sword had no more power over their faith than over the stars.
The truth demands publicity. Our poor, deceived, demon-ridden world needs the truth, Gospel truth shining
like the sun, convicting truth pointed like lightning; the sweet truth of love and the fiery truth of wrath; truth
that reveals life, death, immortality, judgment, heaven, hell, and eternity. The world needs the truth that will
rend the heavens with prayer, and make the earth quake with fear.
The standard of religion adopted by the Covenanted Church demands that Covenanters possess the noblest
spirit. They, who rally in earnest under this banner, will be men after God's own heart. Such were the martyrs:
kind, patient, self-sacrificing, passionately in love with Christ, and laboring diligently to bring others into the
same sphere of blessedness. They were strong, heroic, and unconquerable; affectionate, intelligent, filled with
veneration for God, and aflame with zeal for His House. Those Covenanters knew that they were redeemed,
and gloried in their relation and obligation to the Lord Jesus Christ, their Almighty Redeemer. They flew into
every service at His command. Their obedience was accompanied with much assurance of salvation. They had
The standard of religion in the Covenanted Church recognizes an uncompromising conflict in the world.
Where hostile forces are encamped, the banner means battle. The martyrs were carried into this conflict, by
their zeal for God's House and love to Jesus Christ. Their fight was against the tyranny of Civil government
and the corruption of the Church. They fought well, resisting the aggressor at every point of attack.
We must open our eyes wide, to see the forces on either side. The persecution was merely the crimson line,
along which the kingdom of Christ and the kingdom of Satan came into collision. These kingdoms stretch
beyond our vision, far away into the spiritual world, each having immense resources and innumerable
battalions for the war. The firing lines are merely the visible places that project themselves upon our horizon.
The human struggle, the din of battle, the blood, the groans, the graves, are merely the evidence of the
momentum of these tremendous powers, grinding each other at the points of contact. It is Satan against Christ,
in his effort to waste the Church, suppress the truth, crush mankind, and despoil Jesus of His crown, people,
and kingdom. It is Christ against Satan, determined to resist, defeat, enchain, and imprison that old dragon.
This war still rages. The powers are the same as in the days of old, though the methods of warfare be changed.
Christ still calls for soldiers of the Covenant, men of spirit, courage, and unshaken faith. He needs consecrated
men, to hurl them against the organized powers, and inbreaking hordes, that are desecrating the Sabbath,
corrupting the Church, maiming the truth, debauching morality, bribing conscience, licensing drunkenness,
desolating the home, adulterating religion, worshiping wealth, crushing the poor, chaining manhood to
secrecy, denying God in government, and the Lord Jesus Christ on His throne. Men are needed, men of the
martyr type, men who count not heads, but principles. Men are in demand, men who find victory in defeat,
men who see the mountains filled with horses and chariots, the mighty host of God.
The Church of the Covenanters has a precious inheritance. The achievements of the past, the privileges of the
present, and the victories of the future—all, all are hers, if she be faithful. The Old Blue Banner leads to
the world-wide triumph of the principles it represents. This is no presumption; it is a foregone conclusion, the
very language of logic. The certainty is based on God's revealed purpose, and glows in the richest hues of
prophecy. Humility forbids boasting; we have not said that the Covenanted Church shall have this honor. But
the Banner of the Covenant, by whomsoever borne, will surely be glorified with victory, as Jesus Christ, the
great Captain, leads His conquerors to universal conquest.
The Covenant contains all Bible principles that apply to Church and State; it is neither sectarian nor sectional.
The Covenant abhors sectarianism. It contains the universal principles which must become universal in
practice ere the world bask in Millennial glory. The true Covenanter is no sectarian. He occupies the center of
a circle that contains all revealed truth, and he is pledged to all known duty.
The martyrs died in the assurance of the triumph of the cause for which they suffered. "Do not weary to
maintain the present testimony," said dying Renwick. "When Christ goeth forth to defeat anti-Christ, with that
name written on His vesture and on His thigh, KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS, He will make it
glorious in the earth."
Marriage with the Son of God awaits the Church. Covenanting with the King of glory awaits the nations.
"And I heard as it were the voice of a great multitude, and as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of
mighty thunderings, saying, Alleluia: for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth.
"Let us be glad and rejoice, and give honor to Him: for the marriage of the Lamb is come, and His wife hath
made herself ready.
"Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb."
7. What is the duty of the present generation in the great conflict? 7. What is the duty of the present generation
in the great conflict?
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