Sketches of the Covenanters Part 31

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 gra.s.s, 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 rus.h.i.+ng streamlets disputed our crossing yet a pa.s.sionate longing to see the place where John Brown, known as the "Christian Carrier" had lived, and was buried, overcame every difficulty. The walk covered three miles. At length we ascended a knoll, and, lo, the monument stood before our eyes, and almost at our feet. Now we were on ground, where one of the most tragic scenes of Scotland was transacted. Cargill very beautifully said, "The moors are flowered with martyrs' graves." Here is one of these flowers; a century plant it is, watered with precious blood, and abloom in sweet solitude.

The buildings are gone; not a trace of them is left. The grave was made, it is said, where the martyr fell, in front of his cottage. It is enclosed with a stone wall breast high. A flat stone lies over the remains, bearing a copious inscription. The solitariness is oppressive; death and desolation here bear undisputed sway. The blood ran in chills, as the cold grey stones gave their testimony, amid the gusts that played with the heather, and the drizzle that sprinkled our bare heads. The thoughts of the heart played wildly; imagination refused to be bridled; in a moment former conditions were, in vision, revived. The monument had given place to the dwelling, and the dreariness was astir with the scenes of busy life.

The country around, was then, as it is now, somber as a desert. The silence is solemn; we bated our breath; the lips shrank from speaking; aught except a prayer, or the melody of a Psalm, seemed out of place.

The outlook on every side is without an inhabitant; yet, even here, the persecutor sought his prey, and did his cruel work.

Many years had this home been a sanctuary in the wilderness, and a refuge for the hunted Covenanters. John Brown and Isabel, his wife, were like Zacharias and Elizabeth, "both righteous before G.o.d, 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 G.o.d's wors.h.i.+p 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 G.o.d 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.

Alexander Peden in his wanderings, drifted into this home, on the night previous to the awful tragedy that occurred in the front yard. How surpa.s.singly kind is G.o.d's providence! Surely Peden was sent of G.o.d 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, s.h.i.+ning light, the greatest Christian I ever conversed with." What a night of prayer and inspired fellows.h.i.+p 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 wors.h.i.+p. 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.]

Next morning, May 1, 1685, they were up at dawn for family wors.h.i.+p. The first verses of the 27th Psalm were sung. How wonderfully appropriate for such a morning! The Psalm is the shout of faith:

"The Lord's my light and saving health, Who shall make me dismayed?

My life's strength is the Lord; of whom Then shall I be afraid?"

John Brown then went to the field, spade in hand to dig turf. Peden lingered; he was sad; the shadow of the great distress had fallen on his tender spirit. Taking his farewell of Mrs. Brown, he paused and said, as if to himself, "Poor woman; a fearful morning; a dark, misty morning!"

He then went his way.

"Oh, mother, a great many hors.e.m.e.n are coming down the hill with father," cried little Janet, rus.h.i.+ng into the house.

"The thing that I feared is come upon me," cried the mother, "O, give me grace for this hour," she prayed, lifting her eyes to heaven. Then taking her babe in her bosom, and Janet by the hand, she went out to meet the soldiers, praying as she went. Claverhouse was in command. She pleaded that her husband's life might be spared; but not words nor tears could move the hardened man.

"Will you pray for King James and his supremacy?" said Claverhouse to his prisoner.

"Jesus Christ is the Supreme Head of His Church," was the fearless reply.

"Will you attend the curate's service?" continued Claverhouse.

"I cannot attend where G.o.d'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 G.o.d. 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 n.o.ble 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d will surely be tried; difficulties and hards.h.i.+ps must be met.

But the victory is always to them who cling close to the Lord, in personal holiness, in family wors.h.i.+p, and in Covenant-keeping.

POINTS FOR THE CLa.s.s.

1. Describe the location of John Brown's home.

2. What meetings were held in this cottage?

3. What interests were here under deliberation?

4. Who visited the home the evening before the sad event?

5. How was John Brown captured?

6. Describe the death of this martyr.

7. How could John Brown have saved his life?

XLVIII

LAST, BUT NOT LEAST.--A.D. 1688.

James Renwick was the last martyr publicly executed for adhering to Scotland's Covenant. He was a child of maternal vows. His mother dedicated him to the Lord, praying that he might live, and do worthy service for Christ. She saw her prayer answered; yea, more than answered; it became, also, a sword that pierced through her own soul.

She had not asked too much; but great prayers always imply self-immolation.

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 pa.s.sionate lover of nature. Oft did he sit on this gra.s.sy 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 G.o.d. 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 G.o.d. 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 a.s.sured that there is a G.o.d." Such agonizing for an experimental acquaintance with G.o.d is sure of reward. G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d. Oh, what a life we may expect of such a man! An introduction to G.o.d must result in a wonderful character. Look out for the boy, who says that he must find G.o.d; 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 G.o.d 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 n.o.ble cause.

The first notable service Renwick rendered to the Covenanters was his part in the public testimony given by the Society People, at Lanark, January 12, 1682. The death of Donald Cargill had bereaved the societies of their only pastor. They had no minister now, who would grasp the fallen Banner of the Covenant, and hold it forth, in defiance of the persecutor's rage. These people were the real Covenanters; they counted the Covenant of their Lord more precious than all the blood that could be poured out for its sake. Nor were they to be despised. They numbered at least 12,000. These were men and women noted for high principle, public spirit, intelligence, and courage. They seized the Banner of the Covenant, and kept it unfurled with utmost fidelity, while waiting for G.o.d to send them a standard-bearer. The persecution waxed hotter and hotter. The murderous guns were ever echoing over moors and mountains, in the desperate effort to exterminate the unconquerable societies. Yet they grew bolder, and more aggressive, in their testimony against the king, the Episcopacy, the Indulged ministers, and the silent shepherds.