Grace, mercy and peace be to you. I received your Ladyship’s letter. It refreshed me in my heaviness. The blessing and prayer of a prisoner of Christ come upon you. Nothing grieveth me but that I eat my feasts my lone, and that I cannot edify His saints. My silence eats me up, but He has told me He thanketh me no less than if I were preaching daily.
Your Ladyship wrote to me that you are yet an ill scholar. Madam, you must go in at heaven’s gates, and your book in your hand, still learning. You have had your own large share of troubles, and a double portion; but it saith your Father counteth you not a bastard; full–begotten children are nurtured (Heb. 12:8). I long to hear of the child. I write the blessings of Christ’s prisoner and the mercies of God to him.
Madam, it is not long since I did write to your Ladyship that Christ is keeping mercy for you; and I abide by it still, and now I write it under my hand. Love Him dearly. Win in to see Him; there is in Him that which you never saw. He is yet nigh; He is a tree of life, green and blossoming, both summer and winter. There is a nick in Christianity, to the which whosoever cometh, they see and feel more than others can do.
Now the blessing of our dearest Lord Jesus, and the blessing of him that is “separate from his brethren,” come upon you.
Yours, at Aberdeen, the prisoner of Christ,
Aberdeen
–Letters of Samuel Rutherford

Richard Cameron delivered his last sermon on July 18th 1680, and on July 22, a month after the Declaration was made public a battle ensued to catch the covenanters involved.

David Hackston (another of the Covenanters) account of the battle was recorded thus:

They searched me and carried me to their rear and laid me down, where I bled much, where were brought several of their men sore wounded. They gave us all testimony of brave, resolute men. What more of our men were killed I did not see, nor know, but as they told me afterwards, the field was theirs.

The army vastly outnumbered the Covenanters, in both artillery and men and horses;  nine Covenanters  were killed, and five (including the above David Hackston) were taken prisoner.  Richard Cameron was one of the ones that fell and lost his life.  Although they lost the battle, the Covenanters did kill 28 of the soldiers in battle, and it is recorded that the soldiers were to describe the covenanters as:

.. men of the greatest courage they ever saw set their faces to fight, though they had been at battles abroad; and if they had been well trained, and armed and horsed as we were we would have been put to flight and few of us would have escaped; their shots and strokes were deadly, and few recovered. Though there were but nine of them killed, there were 28 of us killed dead, or died of their wounds in a few days.

A Poem on the slaughter of Mr. Richard Cameron, and others at Ayrs-moss, on the 22nd of July, 1680. Written by an Ayrshire shepherd lad.

IN a dream of the night I was wafted away,
To the muirlands of mist, where the martyrs lay;
Where Cameron's sword and his Bible are seen,
Engraved on the stone where the heather grows green.

'Twas a dream of those ages of darkness and blood,
When the minister's home was the mountain and wood;
When in Wellwood's dark valley the standard of Zion,
All bloody and torn, 'mong the heather was lying.

'Twas morning; and summer's young sun from the east,
Lay in loving repose on the green mountain's breast;
On Wardlaw and Cairntable the clear shining dew,
Glisten'd sheen 'mong the heath-bells, and mountain flowers blue.

And far up in heaven, near the white sunny cloud,
The song of the lark was melodious and loud,
And in Glenmuir's wild solitudes, lengthen'd and deep,
Were the whistlings of plovers and bleating of sheep.

And Wellwood's sweet valley breath'd music and gladness,
The fresh meadow blooms hung in beauty and redness;
Its daughters were happy to hail the returning,
And drink the delights of July's sweet morning.

But, oh! there were hearts cherish'd far other feelings,
Illumed by the light of prophetic revealings,
Who drank from the scen'ry of beauty but sorrow,
For they knew that their blood would bedew it to-morrow.

'Twas the few faithful ones who with Cameron were lying
Conceal'd 'mong the mist, where the heath-fowl was crying,
For the horsemen of Earlshall around them were hovering,
And their bridle reins rung through the thin misty covering.

Their faces grew pale, and their swords were unsheath'd,
But the vengeance that darken'd their brow was unbreath'd;
With eyes turn'd to heaven, in calm resignation,
They sung their last song to the God of salvation.

The hills with the deep mournful music were ringing,
The curlew and plover in concert were singing;
But the melody died 'mid derision and laughter,
As the host of ungodly rush'd on to the slaughter.

Though in mist, and in darkness, and fire, they were shrouded,
Yet the souls of the righteous were calm and unclouded,
Their dark eyes flash'd lightening, as firm and unbending,
They stood like the rock which the thunder is rending.

The muskets were flashing, the blue swords were gleaming,
The helmets were cleft, and the red blood was streaming,
The heavens grew dark, and the thunder was rolling,
When in Wellwood's dark muirlands the mighty were falling.

When the righteous had fallen, and the combat was ended,
A chariot of fire through the dark clouds descended;
Its drivers were angels, on horses of whiteness,
And its burning wheels turned on axles of brightness.

A seraph unfolded its doors bright and shining,
All dazzling like gold of the seventh refining,
And the souls that came forth out of great tribulation,
Have mounted the chariots and steeds of salvation.

On the arch of the rainbow the chariot is gliding,
Through the path of the thunder the horsemen are riding,
Glide swiftly, bright spirits! the prize is before you,
A crown never fading, a kingdom of glory!

It is not amongst the smallest of the Lord’s mercies to this poor land, that there have been always some who have given their testimony against every cause of defection that many are guilty of; which is a token for good, that He doth not, as yet, intend to cast us off altogether, but that He will leave a remnant in whom He will be glorious, if they, through His grace, keep themselves clean still, and walk in His way and method as it has been walked in, and owned by Him in our predecessors of truly worthy memory; in their carrying on of our noble work of reformation, in the several steps thereof, from Popery, Prelacy, and likewise Erastian supremacy—so much usurped by him who, it is true, so far as we know, is descended from the race of our kings; yet he hath so far debased from what he ought to have been, by his perjury and usurpation in Church matters, and tyranny in matters civil, as is known by the whole land, that we have just reason to account it one of the Lord’s great controversies against us, that we have not disowned him, and the men of his practices, whether inferior magistrates or any other, as enemies to our Lord and His Crown, and the true Protestant and Presbyterian interest in this land—our Lord’s espoused bride and Church. Therefore, although we be for government and governors, such as the Word of God and our covenant allows; yet we, for ourselves, and all that will adhere to us as the representative of the true Presbyterian Kirk and covenanted nation of Scotland, considering the great hazard of lying under such a sin any longer, do by these presents, disown Charles Stuart, that has been reigning, or rather tyrannising, as we may say, on the throne of Britain these years bygone, as having any right, title to, or interest in, the said Crown of Scotland for government, as forfeited, several years since, by his perjury and breach of covenant both to God and His Kirk, and usurpation of His Crown and royal prerogatives therein, and many other breaches in matters ecclesiastic, and by tyranny and breach of the very leges regnandi in matters civil. For which reason we declare, that several years since he should have been denuded of being king, ruler, or magistrate, or of having any power to act or to be obeyed as such. As also we, being under the standard of our Lord Jesus Christ, Captain of Salvation, 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; and against all such as have strengthened him, sided with, or anywise acknowledged him in his tyranny, civil or ecclesiastic; yea, against all such as shall strengthen, side with, or anywise acknowledge any other in like usurpation and tyranny—far more against such as would betray or deliver up our free reformed mother Kirk unto the bondage of Antichrist the Pope of Rome. And, by this, we homologate that testimony given at Rutherglen, the 29th of May, 1679, and all the faithful testimonies of those who have gone before, as also of those who have suffered of late: and we do disclaim that Declaration published at Hamilton, June, 1679, chiefly because it takes in the king’s interest, which we are several years since loosed from, because of the aforesaid reasons, and other which may, after this, if the Lord will, be published. As also we disown and by this resent the reception of the Duke of York, that professed Papist, as repugnant to our principles and vows to the Most High God, and as that which is the great, though not alone, just reproach of our Kirk and nation. We also, by this, protest against his succeeding to the Crown, and whatever has been done, or any are essaying to do in this land, given to the Lord, in prejudice to our work of reformation. And to conclude, we hope, after this, none will blame us for, or offend at, our rewarding those that are against us as they have done to us, as the Lord gives opportunity. This is not to exclude any that have declined, if they be willing to give satisfaction according to the degree of their offence.
—The Sanquhar Declaration

Mary Queen of Scots said she feared the prayers of Knox more than all the assembled armies of Europe.

On the tomb of John Knox it is written: "Here lies the man who never feared the face of clay"
And there lies the root of his greatness and how greatly he was used of God I believe.
And anecdote from McCrie's "Life of John Knox" demonstrates this point nicely too:

Knox was advertised of the festivities in the palace, and the occasion of them. He always felt a lively interest in the concerns of the French Protestants, with many of whom he was intimately acquainted, and he entertained a very bad opinion of the princes of Lorraine. In his sermon on the following Sabbath, he introduced some severe strictures upon the vices to which princes were addicted, their oppression, ignorance, hatred of virtue, attachment to bad company, and fondness for foolish pleasures.
Information of this discourse was quickly conveyed to the Queen, with many exaggerations; and the preacher was next day ordered to attend at the palace. Being conveyed into the royal chamber, where the Queen sat with her maids of honor and principal counselors, he was accused of having spoken of Her Majesty irreverently, and in such a manner as to bring her under the contempt and hatred of her subjects.
After the Queen had made a long speech on that theme, he was allowed to state his defense. He told Her Majesty, that she had been treated as persons usually were who refused to attend the preaching of the Word of God: she had been obliged to trust to the false reports of flatterers. For, if she had heard the calumniated discourse, he did not believe she could have been offended with any thing that he had said. She would now, therefore, be pleased to hear him repeat, as exactly as he could, what he had preached yesterday. Having done this, he added, "If any man, madam, will say, that
I spake more, let him presently accuse me”. Several of the company attested that he had given a just report of the sermon. The Queen, after turning round to the informers, who were dumb, told him, that his words, though sharp enough as related by himself, were reported to her in a different way. She added, that she knew that her uncles and he were of a
different religion, and therefore did not blame him for having no good opinion of them; but if he heard any thing about her conduct which displeased him, he should come to herself, and she would be willing to hear him. Knox easily saw through the artifice of this fair proposal. He replied, that he was willing to do any thing for Her Majesty’s contentment, which
was consistent with his office; if Her Grace chose to attend the public sermons, she would hear what pleased or displeased him in her and in others: or if she pleased to appoint a time when she would hear the substance of the doctrine which he preached in public, he would most gladly wait upon Her Grace’s pleasure, time, and place: but to come and wait at her chamber door, and then to have liberty only to whisper in her ear what people thought and said of her, that would neither his conscience nor his office permit him to do. "For,” added he, in a strain which he sometimes used even on serious occasions, "albeit at Your Grace’s commandment, I am here now, yet can I not tell what other men shall
judge of me, that, at this time of day, am absent from my book, and waiting upon the court.” "Ye will not always be at your book,” said the Queen pettishly, and turned her back. As he left the room "with a reasonably merry countenance”, some of the popish attendants said in his hearing, "He is not afraid!”. "Why should the pleasing face of a gentle woman frighten me?” said he, regarding them with a sarcastic scowl, "I have looked in the faces of many angry men, and yet have not been afraid above measure.”
—Thomas McCrie

To be so fearless in the face or Princes, Queen's and Nobles, as well as deadly enemies, speaks of very great faith, and very great grace. May we all seek have the fearless, dauntless spirit where the truth of God is involved, of that great departed saint, John Knox.

2 Timothy 1:7 For God gave us not a spirit of fearfulness; but of power and love and discipline.

He was intolerant against error that went against the Word of God, and so should all true Christians be. One of Oliver Cromwell's great downfall's was toleration.  Today we call it liberalism.  So, if of the mind-set that Knox and his contemporaries went too far in opposition to the papist church, in thier day they had very real and just reasons to, of which I will say more later in the week.

However, when Mary Queen of Scots returned from France to Scotland, deeply steeped in the Popish religion, I felt this conversation between Knox and Mary was worth posting, to show he was not some over-bearing monster, who had no respect for anyone, particularly women in positions of authority.  It is taken from Thomas McCrie's "Life of John Knox"  His manner of addressing  Mary Queen of Scots, even though he formed his own opinion of her which was to not change, was both respectful to her position, and it seems gentle as one would expect towards a member of the nobility of the fairer sex. Rather than the bigoted  male chauvinist we sometimes hear him represented as because of his First Blast paper.  It's too bad if people take that "First Blast" and use Knox's great name and reputation to perpetrate a form of chauvinism today in areas of the Reformed faith, and so have a low view of women, which I do not believe in the over-all picture Knox shared.

“You think I have no just authority?” said the Queen. “Please Your Majesty,” replied he, “learned men in all ages have had their judgments free, and most commonly disagreeing from the common judgment of the
world; such also have they published both with pen and tongue; notwithstanding, they themselves have lived in the common society with others, and have borne patiently with the errors and imperfections which they could not amend. Plato the philosopher wrote his book “Of the Commonwealth”, in which he condemned many things that then were maintained in the world, and required many things to have been reformed; and yet, notwithstanding, he lived under such policies as then were universally received, without further troubling of any state. Even so, madam, am I content to do, in uprightness of heart, and with a testimony of a good conscience.” He added, that his sentiments on that subject should be confined to his own breast; and that, if she refrained from persecution, her authority would not be hurt, either by him, or his book,
“which was written most especially against the wicked Jezebel of
England”.
“But ye speak of women in general,” said the Queen. “Most true it is, madam; yet it appeareth to me, that wisdom should persuade Your Grace never to raise trouble for that which to this day has not troubled Your Majesty, neither in person nor in authority: for of late years many things, which before were held stable, have been called in doubt; yea, they have been plainly impugned. But yet, madam, I am assured that neither Protestant nor papist shall be able to prove, that any such question was at any time moved either in public or in secret. Now, madam, if I had intended to have troubled your state, because ye are a woman, I would have chosen a time more convenient for that purpose, than I can do now, when
your presence is within the realm.”
Changing the subject, she charged him with having taught the people to receive a religion different from that allowed by their princes; and asked, if this was not contrary to the divine command, that subjects should obey their rulers? He replied, that true religion derived not its original or authority from princes, but from the eternal God; that princes were often most ignorant of the true religion; and that subjects were not bound to frame their religion according to the arbitrary will of their rulers, else the Hebrews would have been bound to adopt the religion of Pharaoh, Daniel and his associates that of Nebuchadnezzar and Darius, and the primitive Christians that of the Roman Emperors. “Yea,” replied the Queen, qualifying her assertion; “but none of these men raised the sword against their princes.” “Yet you cannot deny,” said he, “that they resisted; for those who obey not the commandment given them do in some sort resist.”
“But they resisted not with the sword,” rejoined the Queen, pressing home the argument. “God, madam, had not given unto them the power and the means.” “Think you,” said the Queen, “that subjects, having the
power, may resist their princes?” “If princes exceed their bounds, madam, no doubt they may be resisted, even by power. For no greater honor, or greater obedience, is to be given to kings and princes, than God has commanded to be given to father and mother. But the father may be struck with a frenzy, in which he would slay his children. Now, madam, if the children arise, join together, apprehend the father, take the sword from him, bind his hands, and keep him in prison, till the frenzy be over; think you, madam, that the children do any wrong? Even so, madam, is it with princes that would murder the children of God that are subject unto them. Their blind zeal is nothing but a mad frenzy; therefore, to take the sword from them, to bind their hands, and to cast them into prison, till they be brought to a more sober mind, is no  disobedience against princes, but just obedience, because it agreeth with the will of God.”
The Queen, who had hitherto maintained her courage in reasoning, was completely overpowered by this bold answer: her countenance changed, and she continued in a silent stupor. Her brother spoke to her, and
inquired the cause of her uneasiness; but she made no reply. At length, recovering herself, she said, “Well then, I perceive that my subjects shall obey you, and not me, and will do what they please, and not what I
command; and so must I be subject to them, and not they to me.” “God forbid!” answered Knox, “that ever I take upon me to command any to obey me, or to set subjects at liberty to do whatever pleases them. But my travail is, that both princes and subjects may obey God. And think not, madam, that wrong is done you, when you are required to be subject unto God; for it is He who subjects people under princes, and causes obedience to be given unto them. He craves of kings, that they be as foster fathers to His Church, and commands queens to be nurses to His people. And this subjection, madam, unto God and His Church, is the greatest dignity that flesh can get upon the face of the earth; for it shall raise them to everlasting glory.”
“But you are not the Church that I will nourish,” said the Queen: “I will defend the Church of Rome; for it is, I think, the true Church of God.”
“Your will, madam, is no reason; neither doth your thought make the Roman harlot to be the true and immaculate spouse of Jesus Christ. Wonder not, madam, that I call Rome an harlot, for that Church is
altogether polluted with all kinds of spiritual fornication, both in doctrine and manners.” He added, that he was ready to prove that the Romish Church had declined farther from the purity of religion taught by the
apostles, than the Jewish Church had degenerated from the ordinances which God gave them by Moses and Aaron, at the time when they denied and crucified the Son of God. “My conscience is not so,” said the Queen.
“Conscience, madam, requires knowledge; and I fear that right knowledge you have none.” She said, she had both heard and read. “So, madam, did the Jews who crucified Christ; they read the law and the prophets, and heard them interpreted after their manner. Have you heard any teach but such as the pope and cardinals have allowed? and you may be assured, that such will speak nothing to offend their own estate.”
“You interpret the Scriptures in one way,” said the Queen evasively, “and they in another: whom shall I believe, and who shall be judge?” “You shall believe God, who plainly speaketh in His Word,” replied the Reformer, “and farther than the Word teacheth you, you shall believe neither the one nor the other. The Word of God is plain in itself; if there is any obscurity in one place, the Holy Ghost, who is never contrary to Himself, explains it more clearly in other places, so that there can remain no doubt, but unto such as are obstinately ignorant.” As an example, he selected one of the articles in controversy, that concerning the sacrament of the Supper, and proceeded to show that the popish doctrine of the sacrifice of the mass
was destitute of all foundation in Scripture. But the Queen, who was determined to avoid all discussion of the articles of her creed, interrupted him, by saying, that she was unable to contend with him in argument, but if she had those present whom she had heard, they would answer him.
“Madam,” replied the Reformer fervently, “would to God that the learnedest papist in Europe, and he whom you would best believe, were present with Your Grace to sustain the argument, and that you would wait patiently to hear the matter reasoned to the end! for then, I doubt not, madam, but you would hear the vanity of the papistical religion, and how little ground it hath in the Word of God.” “Well,” said she, “you may perchance get that sooner than you believe.” “Assuredly, if ever I get that in my life, I get it sooner than I believe; for the ignorant papist cannot patiently reason, and the learned and crafty papist will never come, in your audience, madam, to have the ground of their religion searched out.
When you shall let me see the contrary, I shall grant myself to have been deceived in that point.”
The hour after dinner afforded an occasion for breaking off this singular conversation. At taking leave of Her Majesty, the Reformer said, “I pray God, madam, that you may be as blessed within the  commonwealth of Scotland, as ever Deborah was in the commonwealth of Israel.”

This interview excited great speculation, and different conjectures were formed as to its probable consequences. The Catholics, whose hopes now depended solely on the Queen, were alarmed, lest Knox’s rhetoric should have shaken her constancy. The Protestants cherished the expectation that she would be induced to attend the Protestant sermons, and that her religious prejudices would gradually abate. Knox indulged no such flattering expectations. He had made it his study during the late conference, to discover the real character of the Queen; and he formed, at that time, the opinion, which he never saw reason afterwards to alter, that she was proud, crafty, obstinately wedded to the popish Church, and
averse to all means of instruction. He resolved, therefore, vigilantly to watch her proceedings, that he might give timely warning of any danger which might result from them to the Reformed interest; and the more that he perceived the zeal of the Protestant nobles to cool, and their jealousy to be laid asleep, by the winning arts of the Queen, the more frequently and loudly did he sound the alarm. Vehement and harsh as his expressions often were; violent, seditious, and insufferable, as his sermons and prayers have been pronounced, I have little hesitation in saying, that as the public peace was never disturbed by them, so they were useful to the public safety, and even a principal means of warding off those confusions in
which the country was involved, and which brought on the ultimate ruin of the infatuated Queen. His uncourtly and rough manner was not, indeed, calculated to gain upon her mind, nor is there reason to think that an opposite manner would have had this effect, and his admonitions often irritated her; but they obliged her to act with greater reserve and moderation; and they operated, to an indescribable degree, in arousing and keeping awake the zeal and the fears of the nation, which, at that period, were the two great safeguards of the Protestant religion in Scotland. We may form an idea of the effect produced by his pulpit orations, from the account of the English ambassador, who was one of his constant hearers.
“Where your honor,” says he, in a letter to Cecil, “exhorteth us to stoutness, I assure you the voice of one man is able, in an hour, to put more life in us, than six hundred trumpets continually blustering in our
ears.”
The Reformer was not ignorant that some of his friends thought him too severe in his language, nor was he always disposed to vindicate the expressions which he employed. Still, however, he was persuaded, that the times required the utmost plainness; and he was afraid that snares lurked under the smoothness which was recommended and practiced by courtiers. Cecil, having given him an advice on this head, in one of his letters, we find him replying, “Men delighting to swim betwixt two waters have often complained about my severity. I do fear that that which men term lenience and dulcitude do bring upon themselve s and others more fearful destruction, than yet hath ensued the vehemency of any preacher within this realm.”
—Thomas McCrie "The Life of John Knox"

• They never took up Christ Jesus as the only treasure and jewel that can enrich and should satisfy, and therefore have never cordially agreed to God's device in the covenant, and so are not worthy of him, neither has the kingdom of God savingly entered into their heart: 'The kingdom of heaven like unto a treasure hid in the field; the  which when a man hath found he hideth, and for joy hereof selleth all that he hath and buyeth that field.

• They never in earnest closed with Christ's whole yoke without exception, judging all his will just and good and holy and spiritual, and therefore no rest followed on them by Christ: 'Take my yoke upon you, and ye shall find rest unto your souls. –William Guthrie

There is no salvation without turning to the Lord. Personal dignity natural amiability, official sanctity, will save no man.
-WillIam S. Plumer

He lifted up the standard where Cargill laid it down,
Where Cameron left it, as he rose to wear the martyrs crown.
To the hungering souls in Scotland he had broke the bread of life,
And shunned all innovations and all bitter roots of strife;
But chief of all, his aim had been to guard with faithful hand
The Gospel's native purity, and the Covenants of the land.
Because he could not dance in step with the piping of the times,
And dreaded all compliances as heaven-defying crimes,
Those that his brethren should have been, did all affection quench,
Nay, cut him from theire fellowshi8p even as a rotten branch.

While thus he told how best-loved friends were severed from his side,
Tears of deep agony gushed forth, and mournfully he cried:
'Woe's me that I in Meshech am a sourjourner so long!
That I in taberacles dwell to Kedar that belong!
My sould with him that hateth peace hath long a dweller been;
I am for peace, but when I speak, for battle they are keen!'
And he spoke with him most cheeringly, with reverent, tender love,
And he prayed as they alone can pray whose heart's home is above!
He prayed that in His own good time, the Lord would grant release,
And let his servant, worn with age and toil, depart in peace;
That all his works and sufferings, with acceptance might be crowned,
And the fruit, in ages yet to come, might gloriously abound.

'Tis time we part, not far from hence the slayer hath a den,
And I know the night-shades gather thick, around old Blaxeden.'
'Rough is the path before thee, planted thick with thorns and briars,
And a spirit meek and fearless, and a wary step requires,
And they feet are soft and tender yet; but keep a constant eye,
Unto Thy Master's will, and thou shalt quit the stage with joy;
While they who walk with stately step, and bend their necks in pride,
Shall soil their garments, and be fain their squalid looks to hide.

'Who trust in self, are forth at sea in a frail and broken ship;
Who build their church upon the breath of a Princes or courtiers lip,
Are building on the shifting sand, and on the fleeing cloud;
And stand they may, so long as they are tools to serve the proud.
Trust thou for ever in the Lord! for everlasting strength
Is in His arm, and He shall rise to plead they cause at length;'
And he drew him nearer, and he plced his hand upon his head,
And, with a pause of inward prayer, thse solemn words he said:-
'God be they sun and shield! Farewell! And when we meet again,
It will not be as now, my son, in peril and in pain!'
And slowly Renwick left the bed– his finger raised above!-
The old man's eye still following him, with look and tears of love.
–James Dodd's

Through the small and dingy lattice gleamed the last red beams of day—
One wintry burst from the setting sun—where the dying prophet lay;
Where, from his weary wanderings, with toil and suffering worn,
He had come close to his pilgrimage within his native Sorn.
His eyes are closed, but not in sleep—he murmurs forth a prayer,
That poor and wasted remnant, Lord, do Thou in sweet mercy spare!

The wolf has burst into the fold, the shepherds they are gone,
In all our hills and valleys round we are not left with one.
As he entered, Peden raised his eyes, and asked the strangers name,
And what the errand was for which to this lone place he came:–
‘Father, my name is Renwick, I have come to speak with thee—
To see thee in these troublous times, and crave thy prayers for me!’

The old man’s face with something flushed between the scowl and sneer,
For false reports against the young were scattered far and near:
‘Are you the Renwick that has made such noise throughout the land?
Turn round about, and let me view your measure as you stand.

Narrow thy shoulders, frail thy limbs; slim youth, thy heart is bold!
If thou dost not think that thou alone canst Scotland’s Church uphold!
‘O father, do not mock me thus; to thee my spirit cleaves;
The railing Shimeis pain me not, but thy least whisper grieves.

The noise and strife are not by me, my Lord’s reproach I bear;
And in the scandal of His Cross I also have found my share:
They seek to drive me from the land, a hissing and a scorn!
O father, hear and pity me, my heart with grief is torn!

The old man softened as the dew, and Renwick’s hand he takes—
‘Tis a bloody land—a treacherous time! We walk on asps and snakes,
Sit down by me, and tell me o’er the story of thy life
For well I know that cruel words cut sharper than a knife.

Peden did not die in a cave as is often reported. I think that is a bit of Covenanter Folklore, and myth to add to the legend that Alexander Peden was. But it isn"t true though he did spend some time living in a cave before that.

James Guthrie had been the first minister who had suffered in the cause—James Renwick was the last. He may be called the Malachi among those modern minor prophets. He is described a little fair-haired man, with a comely countenance, and great unction and sweetness of address. His letters, which are published, given evidence of learning, ardent piety, and something which verges on genius. In one of them, for instance, he speaks of the muirs and mosses of Scotland being flowered with martyrs. He speaks repeatedly of
Luther in the loftiest terms, ,and seems quite familiar with his writings. His last letter closes thus: "I go to your God and my God. Death to me is as a bed to the weary." He had a singular history. When a child of two years old, he, of his own accord tried to pray. Some years later he was tortured with doubts as to the being of a God. Once looking at the mountains surrounding Glen cairn, in Nithsdale, the parish of his birth, he cries out, "If these were all devouring furnaces of burning brimstone, I would be content to go through them all to be assured that there was a God." These doubts passed away, and, like Chalmers at one period of A his life, he seems to have passed some entire years in devout solitary contemplation of the work and being of a God. He was sent t the university where he supported , by teaching gentleman's sons. In July, 1681, when only nineteen years of age, he saw David Cargill executed in Edinburgh; and event which sent him home a "sadder and wiser man." His mind was forthwith made up, tears on his eyes and cheeks, to connect himself with the extreme section of the Covenanter's. After visiting Holland and receiving licence there to preach, he returned and added the weight of to his youthful scholar-ship, ardour and eloquence, to the Cameronian cause. His preaching gave a new impulse to the fading energies< of the party. His beautiful, boyish appearance---the fire which shone on his eyes and cheeks,-- his "pleasant melting voice,"--the "seraphic " of his speech, served to unite in him the charms of a bridegroom and the energies of an apostle. Peden and he were close friends. He spent two memorable nights with John Brown, the Ayrshire carrier. One chill dark November night, a thin, travel, well-worn stranger entered John Brown's hut at Priesthill. His shoes were worn off his feet--his plaid hung dripping around him---John Brown himself was absent--the good wife looked at him with a certain suspicion, and it was left to her little daughter, Janet to do as well as she could, the offices of hospitality to the uninvited and unexpected guest; yet so carefully did the child take off his plaid and so place him in the corner next to the fire, that the stranger burst into tears, and into a blessing on the "bairn." At this juncture Brown himself returned; he recognized Renwick, and a night of plaintive, yet joyous talk and reminiscences succeeded. After a day and another night of he same mutual intercourse, refreshed and strengthened he parted from John Brown to meet no more on earth, and went on his way. For years he led a wandering life, preaching whenever he could find an opportunity to the "puir hill folk." After the Sanquar declaration against the authority of James, which he penned, he became the object of unmitigated persecution; a reward of one hundred pounds was offered for his head, and fifteen distinct searches were made for him. Once he escaped by throwing himself into a hole on the side of a hill which was protected from view by a heap of stones. His activity at this time was amazing. With all the rapidity of enthusiasm did he pass from parish to parish, baptizing, catechizing, preaching, protesting against King James and his July indulgence. Like that glorious monk in the "Roman," he became a "a polyglot of Prophets"--a "manifold infection" of earnest and solitary protest. At length his health began to fail, he could no longer mount or ride on horseback, and had to be carried to the place where he was to preach. Yet, once there, recognizing an audience of the right kind, and feeling the fresh breeze of the mountain on his fevered forehead he revived, he strengthened, he enlarged, he poured out the emotions of his heart and he wrongs of his party in a very sea of eloquence, and the dying "boy" Renwick, was felt to be inspired. In him soul triumphed over the body, and seemed when it reached its climax to lift up the frail frame in scorn, and to say, "what proportion between this instrument and that effect?" Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit saith the Lord.
---George Gilfillian

I hope to conclude this on James Renwick tomorrow, with the account of his martyrdom.

The dying testimony of Mr. James Renwick, Minister of the Gospel, and to the Truths and Duties for which was judged, and other contraverted in our time, who suffered at the Grass-market in Edinburgh, February 17th, 1688. Emitted from his own hand, the days before his suffering, &c.

My Dear Friends in CHRIST,

It hath pleased the Lord to deliver me up into the hands of men, and I think fit to send you this Salutation, which I expect will be the last, when I pore my heart upon it, before God; I dare not desire to have escaped this lot, for no less could have been for his glory, and vindication of his cause on my behalf; And as I am free before him of the profanity, which some either naughty wicked, or strangers to me have reported that I have been sometimes guilty of; so he hath kept me from the womb, free of ordinary pollution of children, as these that hath been acquainted with me though the Tract of my life do know, and now my blood shall either more silence reproaches or more ripen them for judgement, but I hope it shall make some more, sparing to speak of those who shall come after me; and so I am the more willing to pay this cost, for their instruction, and my succeeders ease, since I came to prison; The Lord hath been wonderfully kind to me, he has made his Word to give me Light, Life, Joy, Courage, and Strength; Yea, it hath dropped with sweet smelling Myrrh unto me; particuarly these passages and promises, Gen:22: 12. Latter part of the verse. For now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not witheld thine only son. Neh. 8:10. Later part of the verse.Neither be you sorry, for the joy of the Lord is your strength. Job 3, 17. There the wicked cease from troubling, and there the weary be at rest. 18. There the prisoners rest together, they hear not the voice of the oppressor. Job 23: 10. But he knoweth the way that I take; when he hath tried me, I shall come forth as god. 11. My foot hath held his steps, his ways have I kept, and not declined. 12. Neither have I gone back from the Commandment, of his lips, I have esteemed the words of his mouth more than my neccessary food. 13. But he is of one mind, and who can turn him? and what his soul desireth even that he doth. 14. For he performeth the things that he is appointed for me; and many such things are with him. Psalm 105. Latter part of the verse. The word of the Lord tried him. Luke 21:12. But before all these they shall lay their hands on your and persecute you, delivering you up to the synagogues, and into prisons, being brought before Kings and Rules for my Name sake. 13. And it shall turn to you for a testimony. 19. In your patience, posess ye your souls. The Gospel according to S. John. Heb. 12:13. To the General Assembly of the church of the First Born, which are written in Heaven, and to God the judge of all, and to the Spirits of just m en made perfect. Jam: 1. 12, Blessed is the Man that endureth temptation; for when he is tried, he shall recieve the Crown of Life, which the Lord hath promises to them that love Him. Peter 5:7. Casting your cares upon him, for he careth for you. 8. Be sober, be vigilant, because your Adversary the Devil, is a roaring lion, walketh about seeking whom he may devour. Revl 3:8. I know thy works; behold I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it; for thou hast a little strength, and hath kept my word, and hast not denied my name. 10. Because thou hast kept the word of my Patience, I also will k eep thee from the hour of Temptation, which shall come upon all the World, to try them that dwell upon the earth. 11. Behold, I come quickly; hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown. 12. Him that over cometh will I make a pillar in the Temple of my God, and he shall go no more out; and I will write upon him the Name of my God and the Name of the City if my God , which is new Jersalem, which cometh down out of heaven from my God, and I will write upon him my new Name. Reve. 19. 20. And the Beast was taken, and with him the false prophet that wrought miracles before him, with which he decieved them that had recieved the marke of the beast, and them that worshipped his image. These both were cast into the Lake of Fire burning with brimstone. 21. And the remnant were slain with the Sword of him that sat upon the horse. Which Sword proceedeth out of his mouth; and all the Fowlsl were filled with their flesh. And many other Scriptures.

O what can I say to the Lord's Praise! It was but little that I knew of him before I came to prison; I have found sensibly much of his divine strength, much of the joy of his spirit, and much assurance from his Word and Spirit, concerning my salvation, my sufferings are stated upon the Matter of my doctrine, for there was found with me, the sum of my last two sermons at Briads-Craigs, which I wrote after I preached them; The former thereof was upon Ps 46:10. Be still, and know that I am God; I will exalt among the heathen, I will be exalted in the Earth. And the latter upon Heb: 10:38. Now the just shall live by faith. but if any man draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in Him. And so I was examined upon the Application and made therein unto the sins of the time: All which I owned once and again, as it is to be seen in my Indictment, and I being tried, and an Assize set; I adhere to my former confession explicity, so my sentence of Death was drawn forth, upon these three heads;

First, Because I could not own James Vii, to be my lawful Sovereign.
Secondly, Because I taught the unlawfulness of paying the cost expressly extracted for supressing the faithful and free preaching of the Gospel.
Thirdly, Because I taught it was the peoples duty to carry arms, at the preaching of the Gospel, now when it is persecuted for defending themselves, and resisting unjust violence.

I think such a Testimony, is worth many lives, and I praise the Lord for his enabling me to be plain and positive in all my Confessions; for therein I found peace, joy, strength and boldness. I have met with many assaults in prison, some from some of the indulged party, and some from some of the prelaticks; but by the strength of God I was enabled to stand, that they could neither bow me nor break me; I was also assaulted by some of the popish party, I suppose they were some of the Ecclesiastical creatures; but they sound none of their own Stuff in me, I told them after sundry Debatings, That I had lived and die and enemy to their way: howsoever I was pressed by sundry to seek a reprieve, and my answer was always that I adhered to my former confession, and if they pleaed to set the appointed time of my death let it stand, and if they pleased to protract it. Let them protract it, for I was ready and willing to beoth live and to die, howbeit their came a reprieve for eight days but I had no hand in it; They still urged, would I say that I desired time for conference iwth some persons anent my principles: I answered, That my time was in the Lord's hands, and I was in no hesitation or doubt about my principles myself, I was not be so rude as to decline conference with any, so far as it might be incovenient for me in my present circumstnaces, but I will seek it with none. I have no more to say upon this head, but my heart doth not smite me for anything in the matters of my God since I came to prison; And I can further say to his praise with some conseientiousness of integrity that I have walked his way and kept his charge though with much weakness and many infirmities whereof ye have been witnesses. Now my dear Friends in precious Christ, I think I need not tell you; that as I have l ived, so I die in the same persuasion, with the true Reformed and Covenanted Presbyterian church of Scotland, that I adhere to the testimony of the day, as it is held forth in our informaty vindication and in the testimony against the present toleration; and that I own, and seal with my blood all the precious truth, eve the contraverted turths that I have taught; So I would exhort every one of you, to make sure your personal reconcilaition with God in Christ; for I fear many of you have that yet to do, and when ye come where I am to look pale death in the face, ye will not be a little shaken and terrified, if ye have not laid hold of eternal life. I would exhort you to much diligence in the use of the means, to be careful in keeping up your societies, to be frequent and ferverent in secret prayer, to read much the wtitten Word of God, and to examine yourselves by it; do not weary to maintain in yoru places and stations the present testimony; for when Christ goes forth to defeat Antichrist; with that Name written on his Thigh, and on Versture King of Kings and Lord of Lords, he will make it glorious in the earth, and if ye can be transmit it to the posterity, ye may count it a great generations work, But beware of the ministers, that have accepted of this toleration, and all others than bend that way, and follow them not, for the sun hath gone down upon them. Do not fear that the Lord will cast off Scotland, for he will certainly return again, and shew himself glorious in our land, but watch and pray, for he is bringing on a sad overthrowing stroke, which shall make many say, That they have eaisly got through that hath got a scaffold for Christ, and do not regard their present sufferings of this world, for they are not worthy to be compared to the glory that shall be revealed, I amy say to his praise, that I have found his cross sweet and lovely unto me; for I have had many joyful hours, and not a fearful thought since I came to prison; He hath strengthened me, for to outbreath man, and ourface death. And I am now longing for the joyful hour of my dissolution, and there is nothing in the world that I am sorry to leave but you, But I go to a better company and so I must take my leave of you all. Farewell my beloved, sufferers and followers of the Lamb; Farewell Christian intimates; Farwell Christian and comfortable Mother and Sisters/ Forewell sweet societies; Farewell desireable General meetings; Farwell night wanderings in the cold and weariness for Christ; Farewell sweet Bible, and preaching of the Gospel; Farwell sun, Moon and stars and all sublumary things; Farewell conflicts with a body of sin and Death–Welcome scaffold, for precious Christ; Welcome heavenly Jerusalem; welcome innumerable company of angels; welcome General assembly, and church of the First Born; welcome Crown of Glory, white robes and songs of Moses and the Lamb; And above all, welcome o thou blessed Trinity and one God! O Eternal One! I commit my soul unto thy eternal rest.

JAMES RENWICK. fEB. 13TH, 1688

I see now what hath been the language of my Reprieve, it hath been, that I might be further tempted and tried, and I praise the Lord he hath assisted me, to give further proofs of steadfastness; I have often been assaulted by some popish priests, but the last time they came, I told I would debate no more with such as they were, and that I have lived and would die a Presbyterian, Protestant and testify against the Idolatrous, heresies and superstition, and errors of that Anti-Christian way; but yesterday, I was cast into deep exercise, and made to dwell under an impression of the dreadfulness of everything, that might grieve the spirit of God. I found sin to be more bitter than death, and one hours hiding of God's face, more insupportable. And then at night, I was called before a part of the Council, and the Chancellor produced the informatory vindication, and asked if I knew it; I answered, I knew it; And being interrogated, I confessed that I had a great hand in writing of it, they pressed me to tell my assistances, I told them they were those whom they persecuted, but would satisfy them no further; they also urged me upon pain of torture; to tell where our Societies were, who kept our General Correspondences, and where they were kept. I answered, though they should torture me, which was contrary to all Laws after sentence of death, I would give them no further notice than the books gave, I was moreover threatened to tell of my haunts and quarters, but I refused to make known to them any such thing; so I was returned to prison. such exercise as I had, was very needful for such a trial; and I would rather endure what they could do unto me; Than have dishonoured Christ, offended you, and brought you into trouble:–But I hope within less than three days, to be without the reach of all temptations.

Now, I have no more to say, Farewell again, in our Blessed LORD JESUS.

Feb 15th 1688. James Renwick

Now on to John Brown of Priesthill.  John Brown stuttered violently when he conversed.  Yet whenever he prayed, he spoke fluently and without the stammering and stuttering that normally defined his speech.  His heart must have been lifted up to  heaven when in prayer for that too be so.  He was a well liked, popular family man. Loved and esteemed by all who knew him. And at the hands of bloody Claverhouse, this was the end he came to, but it was for the cause of God, and that's what made these men and women different, and noble. That they were willing to part with all for the cause of God, and they so often did do. The world really was not worthy. The liberty we have today, has the seeds in the blood of such noble martyrs, for who no cost was too great, to put Christ's Crown and Covenant, before anything else, even life itself.

John Brown lived  at a house called Priesthill, in the parish  of Murikirk. It occupied an eminence commanding a wide and waste view of heath, mosses and rocks. John Brown was an amiable and blameless man. He had taken no part in the risings or public testifying of the times. His only crimes were his non-attendance on the curate of the parish, and his occasionally retiring with some like-minded, to a favourite ravine among the moors, where they spent the Sabbath day in praise and prayer. His wife was a  noble spirit; blithe, Leal-hearted, humorous even. While he, on the other hand, was gravely mild and sedate, her smile shone on him like sunshine on a dun hill-side, and transfigured him into gladness. His family was one of peace, although Isabel Weir was his second wife, and there were children of the first alive. All were wont to pour out like blood from one heart, to meet him, when he was seen approaching on his pack-horse from his distant excursions. Latterly, as the persecution fell darker, and closed in around those Ayrshire wolds, John could no longer ply his trade; nay, was even compelled, occasionally to leave his home, and spend days and nights in the remoter solitudes of the country. Nevertheless  his house at last arrived. It was the 30th of April, 1685. John Brown had been at home, and unmolested for some time: he had risen early, and had performed family worship. The Psalm sung was the twenty seventh; and the chapter read the sixteenth of John; which closes with the remarkable words: "In this world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world."  His prayer was, as usual, powerful and reverent. Meanwhile Claverhouse had come in late at night to Lesmalisgow, where a garrison was posted; he heard of John; had risen still earlier than his victim; and by six on that grey April morning had tracked him to the moss; had surrounded him with three troops of dragoons, and led him down to the door of his own house. With the dignity of Cincinnatus, leaving his plough in mid-furrow, John dropped his spade, and walked down, it is said, "rather like a leader than a captive." His wife was warned of their approach, and with more than the heroism of an ancient Roman matron, with one boy in her arms, with a girl in her hand, and alas! with a child within her, Isabel weir came calmly out too play her part in this frightful tragedy! Claverhouse was no trifler. short and sharp was he always in his brutal trade. He asked John at once why he did not attend the curate, and if he would pray for the king. John stated, in one distinct sentence, the usual covenanting reasons. On hearing it, Claverhouse exclaimed "Go to your knees, for you  shall immediately die!" John complied, without remonstrance, and proceeded to pray in terms so  melting, and with such earnest supplication for his wife and their born and unborn children, that claverhouse saw the hard eyes of his dragoons beginning to moisten, and their hands to tremble, and thrice interrupted him with volleys of blasphemy. When the prayer was ended, John turned round to his wife, reminded her that this was the day come which he had told her of when he first proposed marriage to her, and asked her if she was willing to part with him. "Heartily willing," was her reply. "This," he said, "is all I desire. I have nothing more to do now but die." He then kissed her, and the children and said, "May all purchased and promised blessings be multiplied unto you!"  "No, more of this!" roared out the savage, whose own iron heart this scene was threatening to move. "You six dragoons, there, fire on the fanatic!" They stood motionless, the prayer had quelled them. Fearing a mutiny, both among his soldiers and in his own breast, he snatched a pistol from his belt, and shot the good man through the head. He fell, his brains spurted out, and his brave wife caught the shattered head in her lap. "What do you think of your husband now?" howled the ruffian. "I though muckle o' him, Sir, butt never as muckle as I do this day." (muckle-much). "I would think little to lay thee beside him," he answered. "If you were
permitted, I doubt not ; you would; but how are ye to answer for this mornings wark?" "To men, I can be answerable, and as for God, I will take him in my own hands." And with these desperate words, he struck spurs to his horse, an of her led his dragoons away from the inglorious field. Meekly and calmly  did this heroic and Christian woman, tie up her husband's head in a napkin, compose his body, cover it with her plaid—and not till these duties were discharged did she permit the pent-up current of her mighty grief to burst out, as she sat down beside the corpse and wept bitterly. [George Gilfillian]

The Epitaph of John Brown on his gravestone, which as you can see the first letter of each line spells his name.

In death's cold bed the dusty part here lies

Of one who did the earth as dust despise;

Here in this place from earth he took departure,

Now he has got the garland of the martyr.

Butchered by Clavers and his bloody band.

Raging most ravenously o'er all the land,

Only for owning Christ's supremacy,

Wickedly wronged by encroaching tyranny.

Nothing how near soever he to good

Esteemed, nor dear for any truth his blood.

He made his grave with the rich. May I O God, be made conformable to Him in His death. As he died for sin, may I die to sin. May the body of sin be destroyed. May the old man be crucified with Him—even the flesh with its affections and lusts, that all old things may be done away, and all things be made new with me. Let not sin have the dominion over me; and save me alike from the wickedness of evil deeds, and the wandering of evil desires.
—Thomas Chalmers "Sabbath Scripture Meditations" Luke xxiii

I can resemble our Saviour to nothing better, than to a wise and skilfull Pylot, who seeing his company sicke, and weary with continuall stormes at sea, whenneth hee knoweth hee is neare any land, letteth his sick, and faint-hearted company go on shoare to refresh themselves, to get aire of the land, to take in new victuals and provision, to serve the neccessitie of their succeeding voyage: but if hee finde them to begin to be enamoured with love of the land, and the pleasures thereof, staright wayes he sendeth a boat on shoare, and reclaimes them from the surfet of their pleasures, telling them, if any amongst them would bee at home, at his owne countrie, hee must come aboard againe; for it is not the dallying with the pleasures of a strange country, that will bringe him home to his own soyle.
—William Wishart "An expostion of the Lord's Prayer"

Modern English:

I can resemble our Saviour to nothing better, than to a wise and skilfull Pilot, who seeing his company sick, and weary with continual storms at sea, whenneth he knoweth he is near any land, letteth his sick, and faint-hearted company go on shore to refresh themselves, to get air of the land, to take in new victuals and provision, to serve the neccessity of their succeeding voyage: but if he find them to begin to be enamoured with love of the land, and the pleasures thereof, staright wayes he sendeth a boat on shore, and reclaims them from the surfet of their pleasures, telling them, if any amongst them would be at home, at his own country, he must come aboard again; for it is not the dallying with the pleasures of a strange country, that will bring him home to his own soil.

Behold you ruined pile, which rears its head
Like some grim spectre of the mighty dead;
While girt by boundless Ocean's bulwark strong,
With Time's relentless hand it struggles long;
Wild sea-mews 'thwart the troubled billows sail,
And through the din resounds their mournful wail;
While stately ships are gulfed in that dark main,
Against whose might the pilots skill is vain,
And created waves besiege yon rocky steep,
Which guards the shell-paved caverns of the deep:
Cast in the sternest mould of Nature's hand,
Behold a scene magnificently grand!

Those ancient halls, in the days of other years,
Have oft been trod by Scotland's noblest peers;
And she, the dark eyeed Queen, upon whose brow
The bright gems paled before her beauty's gow,
Ere yet her fortune's star was on the wane,
She here hath gazed upon yon surgy main.
The thunders of our mighty Knox have rolled,
Athwart these portals and these chambers old,
Which oft have witnessed midnight deeds of woe,
And seen the brave by murder's stroke laid ow.
The birth place of a Royal Stuart-child,
'Twas here his days of spring-time smiled,
Ere yet a monarch's wreath had crowned his head,
Ere yet dark visions hovered round his bed.

But 'tis not regal pomp of other days
Which now enchains our faith-enraptured gaze,
It is a little spot of hallowed turf,
Oft sprinkled by the wild waves foamy surf;
Now o'er that spot the gay and thoughtless tread,
Unmindful of their country's sainted dead.
Yet many an eye with sorrow's tear is filed,
And many a Scottish heart with awe is thrilled;
For here our WISHART stood amidst his foes
Unmoved, ave by his trammelled country's s woes;

Although  the stake with threatening frown stood by,
To shoot its faming columns to the sky.

Tis done! that deed of bigot rage is o'er
And WISHART's spirit brave aloft doth soar.
Oh, Solemn hour! When that long fettered soul,
Freed from its chains, doth reach the martyrs goal;
Where, mid the glories of yon Palm-crowned throng,
Praise to their God for ever swells the song!
Clad in its sablest garb, the vault of heaven,
By deafening peals and lightning's flash is riven,
While stormy winds with trumpet tongues proclaim
The martyr's courage and tyrants shame!
Lo, where proud BEATON sits, in fiend like rage,
His deadly war with innocence to wage,
And gloats exuting o'er his victim's fate,
Inflamed with venomed ire–with quenchless hate;
But though the flames obeye his mandate given,
On fiery wings they bear the soul to heaven;
'tib but the body they to dust recall.
Obedient to the Bigot's vengeful calll.
But lo! amid the spirit's parting strife,
The martyr's  soul is fired with heavenly life;
Hark! from his lips prophetic numbers flow,
In awful cadence, "gainst his country's foe.

"Vengeance is mine" the Lord of hosts hath said,
"That vengeance, BEATON, hovers o'er thy head;
"Ere many moons have wanted, a summons dread,
"Shall beckon thee to Death's dark mouldering bed;
"And when that hour of mortal woe is o'er,
"And thy brief dream hath fled of earthly power,
"Then shall our spirits disembodied meet,
"Amidst the thunders of the judgement-seat.
"I go, I go! my spirits chains are riven,
"I go! m y soul hath from her slumbers risen!"

Ages have passed since WISHART'S fearful doom,
O'ercast broad Scotland with a darkening gloom,
Since Fate's dread voice proclaimed the BEATON'S knell,
And in the death-grasp of his foes he fell.
Ages have passed–the papal night is o'er,
The Gospel, beams illume our Scotland's shore;
And now our martyred champion's far-spread name
Re-echoes o'er our hills with deathless fame,
Linked with the band who, in the bygone days,
Died for their God and the flames fierce blaze.
BRAVE HAMILTON! the young-the earthly doomed,
Sadly amid thy death-pangs ocean boomed;
And aged MILNE, upon whose time-worn form
Was spent the last dread fury of the storm;
With FOREST, CRAW, and RESBY, (England's son,)
Who midst St. Andrew's fanes the combat won.

Then pause awhile! for this is holy ground,
Although ye mark nor cross, nor stone around.
Sepulchral trophies crown the monarch's name,
The stately column warrior deeds proclaim;
The minstrel hath his shrine in lofty song,
And shall thy names be lost, oh fearless throng
Not so my country! from your slumbers wake,
Ye dweller's by the mountain and the lake;
And now, when  many a peaceful year hath fled,
Oppression rears once more her Gorgon head,
And fetters clank mid Zion's bulwarks free,
Rousing the brave for Truth and Liberty,–
The hour is come, Oh patriots to arise,–
Recall the days of yore with tear-dimmed eyes,
And let the obelisk its crest upraise
For Scotland's martyr's of the olden days!
—Author Unknown

The above book, will give you a quick over-view and potted history of the testimony and martyrdom of George Wishart.

My Very Noble and Worthy Lady,

So often as I call to mind the comforts that I myself, a poor friendless stranger, received from your Ladyship here in a strange part of the country, when my Lord took from me the delight of mine eyes (Ezek. 24:1), as the Word speaketh (which wound is not yet fully healed and cured), I trust your Lord shall remember that, and give you comfort now at such a time as this, wherein your dearest Lord has made you a widow, albeit I must out of some experience say, the mourning for the husband of your youth be, by God’s own mouth, the heaviest worldly sorrow (Joel 1:8). And though this be the weightiest burden that ever lay upon your back; yet you know (when the fields are emptied and your husband now asleep in the Lord), if you shall wait upon Him who hideth His face for a while, that it lieth upon God’s honor and truth to fill the field, and to be a Husband to the widow. Let your faith and patience be seen, that it may be known your only beloved first and last has been Christ. And, therefore, now spend your whole love upon Him; He alone is a suitable object for your love and all the affections of your soul. God has dried up one channel of your love by the removal of your husband. Let now that speat run upon Christ.

And I dare say that God’s hammering of you from your youth is only to make you a fair carved stone in the high upper temple of the New Jerusalem. Your Lord never thought this world’s vain painted glory a gift worthy of you; and therefore would not bestow it on you, because He is to propane you with a better portion. Let the movable go; the inheritance is yours. You are a child of the house, and joy is laid up for you, it is long in coming, but not the worse for that. I am now expecting to see, and that with joy and comfort, that which I hoped of you since I knew you fully; even that you have laid such strength upon the Holy One of Israel, that you defy troubles, and that your soul is a castle that may be besieged, but cannot be taken. And withal consider how in all these trials (and truly they have been many) your Lord has been loosing you at the root from perishing things, and hunting after you to grip your soul. Madam, for the Son of God’s sake, let Him not miss His grip, but stay and abide in the love of God, as Jude saith (Jude 21).

Now, Madam, I hope your Ladyship will take these lines in good part; and wherein I have fallen short and failed to your Ladyship, in not evidencing what I was obliged to your more than undeserved love and respect, I request for a full pardon for it. Again, my dear and noble lady, let me beseech you to lift up your head, for the day of your redemption draweth near. And remember, that star that shined in Galloway is now shining in another world.

Now I pray that God may answer, in His own style, to your soul, and that He may be to you the God of all consolations.

Anwoth, Sept. 14, 1634

My daily labors must now increase, and therefore spare me as much as you may. My old
malady troubles me sore, and nothing is more contrarious to my health
than writing. Think not that I weary to visit you; but unless my pain shall
cease, I will altogether become unprofitable. Work, O Lord, even as
pleaseth Thy infinite goodness, and relax the troubles, at Thy own
pleasure, of such as seeketh Thy glory to shine. Amen.

The pain of my head and stomach troubles me greatly. Daily I find my body decay; but the providence of
my God shall not be frustrate. I am charged to be at Widrington on
Sunday, where I think I shall also remain Monday. The Spirit of the Lord
Jesus rest with you. Desire such faithful as with whom ye communicate
your mind, to pray that, at the pleasure of our good God, my dolor both
of body and spirit may be relieved somewhat; for presently it is very
bitter. Never found I the Spirit, I praise my God, so abundant where
God’s glory ought to be declared; and therefore I am sure there abides
something that yet we see not.

Your messenger found me in bed, after a sore trouble and most dolorous night; and
so dolor may complain to dolor when we two meet. But the infinite
goodness of God, who never despiseth the petitions of a sore troubled
heart, shall, at His good pleasure, put end to these pains that we presently
suffer, and in place thereof shall crown us with glory and immortality for
ever. But, dear sister, I am even of mind with faithful Job, yet most sore
tormented, that my pain shall have no end in this life. The power of God
may, against the purpose of my heart, alter such things as appear not to be
altered, as He did unto Job; but dolor and pain, with sore anguish, cries the
contrary. And this is more plain than ever I spake, to let you know ye
have a fellow and companion in trouble, and thus rest in Christ, for the
head of the serpent is already broken down, and he is stinging us upon the
heel.

0. the sunrise! the sunrise hath wondrous power
To gladden all living things;
It breaks on the chill night's milkiest hour.
Like a smile from the King of kings!
"Pis earliest June, and the earth hatli thrilled
With the earnest of summer given :
And the very city's self is tilled
With the breath and the beam of heaven !

A glory is circling the stern dark brow
Of Dunedin's fortress old,
And a gleam is waking, more faintly now.
Her Tolbooth prison-hold,
"Where one hath risen, but not from sleep.
To gaze on that dawning sky —
True wife! what aileth thee now to weepy
Heaven brightens ere I die!"

There are mustering groups in the silent streets
That are silent no longer now;
Though briefly each other his fellow greets,
As with doubting on his brow !
It seemeth as if an anguish pressed
Alike on a nation's heart —
One mighty load — upon every breast,
Which yet each must bear apart!

And still in its joy, o'er that joyless throng,
The brightening day-dawn smiled;
While threading the crowd's dense maze along,
Came an old man, and a child;
The man was woe- worn past all relief;
The child's young brow was fair —
So sunny, it seemed that no frost of grief
Could linger a moment there!

And onward he tripped at the old man's side.
With many a step for one;
And smiled in the face of his ancient guide,
As to bid his grief begone !
And still as the sunbeam before him danced
On the shade of the narrow street,
His little hands he would clap, entranced.
And chase it with eager feet!

" whist ye, my bairn, 1 ' said the old man then;
" And is this a time for play?
Your hairs may be white, ere the half ye'll ken
Of the loss ye shall thole this day! 1 '
" Ye said I should look in my father's face,
And sit on my father's knee.
Long, long he has lain in yon darksome place.
But I know he'll come home with me!"

" wldst ye, my bairn,'* quoth the old man still :
•• For a better home he's bound.
But first he must suffer his Master's will.
And lie in the chill, damp ground!"
The child looked wistfully up again :
••His master is God on high ;
He sends the sun, and He stays the rain ;
He'll make it both warm and dry !"

-They' have entered in by the dismal door;
They have mounted the weary stair;
And the mirth of the young child's heart is o'er.
For no sunbeam follows there!
With a shuddering dread, as the harsh key grates,
By the old man's side he clings;
But he hears a voice, and no longerwaits—
- To his father's heart he springs!

" My child! my own child! am I clasping thee now?
My God, all Thy will be done!"
And he whom no terror of earth could bow.*
Rained tears upon his son !
"Xow rest thee, my Willie, upon my knee,
For thy father's hours are brief ;
And store up my words, with thy love for me.
Engraved on thy heart's first grief!

•' They will tell thee, my bairn, that thy father died
A death both of sin and shame ;
And the finger of scorn, and the foot of pride,
Will be busy with my name.
But heed them not, boy ! for the cause of God
I render this day my breath ;
And tread thou the path that thy father trode,
Though it lead to thy father's death!"

" For my Master's honor, my Master's Crown.
A martyr 'tis mine to be ;
And the orphan's God shall look kindly down.
My pleasant child, on thee!
I seal thee now with my parting kiss,
Till at His right hand we meet.
Death! death! thy bitterest drop is this,
All else in thy cup is sweet!"

The child clings close to his father's heart,
But they bear him by force away —
A gentle force ; but they needs must part,
And that old man guides his way.
* Characterized bv Cromwell as " the short man who would not bow. "
Once more they are treading the- crowded street.
But no longer the sunlight smiled;
And looks of pity from some they meet,
For they know the martyr's child!

" Yon darksome thing that shuts out the sky.
O tell me what may it be?
It scares my heart, though I know not why.
For it seems to gloom on me!"
With a quivering lip, and a thrill of awe.
Was the old man's answer given :
" 'Tis a ladder, poor bairn, such as Jacob saw,
By which angels mount to heaven!"'

— They have set his head on the Nether Bow.
To scorch in the summer air;
And months go by, and the winter's snow
Falls white on its thin grey hair.
And still the same look that in death he wore.
Is sealed on the solemn brow —
A look as of one who hath travailed sore,
But where pangs are ended now!

Through years of oppression, and blood, and shame.
The earth as a wine-press trode —
That silent witness abides the same,
In Us mute appeal to God!
And many a saint hath waxed strong to bear.
While musing in that sad place ;
And the heart of the tyrant hath failed for fear.
In the awe of the still, stern face.

There were prophet-words on those lips in death.
That Sctoland remembers still:
And she looks for her God's awakening breath.
Through the long, long night of ill!
They may scatter their dust to the winds of heaven —
To the bounds of the utmost sea;
But her Covenants, burned, reviled, and riven,
Shall yet her reviving be!"

— There, sitteth a child by the Nether Bow
In the light of the summer sky:
And he steals there .yet in the winter's snow.
But he shuns the passers by;
A fair, pale child, with a faded cheek.
As a lily in darkness reared,
And an eye, in its sad abstraction meek.
As if nothing he hoped or feared !

!:. the early dawn, at the fall of eve.
But not in the noon of day;
An 1 he cloth not weep, and he doth not grieve.
But he never was seen to play !
A child in whom childhood's life is dead ;
Its sweet light marred and dim;
And be gazes up at that awful head.
As though it held speech with him!

Oh! a strange, sad sight, was the converse mute
Of the dead and the living there;
And thoughts in that young child's soul took root
Which manhood might scarcely bear!
But ever he meekby went his way.
As the stars came o'er the place ;
And his- mother wept, as she heard him say.
'• I have seen my father's face!"

Years faded and died, and the child was gone,
But a pale youth came instead.
In the solemn eve, and at early dawn.
To gaze on the awful head !
And oft when the moonlight fell ir» showers.
He would linger the night long there:
And his spirit went up through those silent hours
To his father's God in prayer!

The shadow had passed from his heart and brow.
And a deep calm filled his breast;
For the peace of God was his portion now,
And his weary soul had rest !
The martyr's God had looked kindly down
On the martyr's orphan son;
And the spirit had sealed him for His own.

And his goal was almost won!
There was fond hope cherished and earnest given,
Of a course like his father's high ;
But the seed that had ripened so soon for heaven,
God gathered to the sky!
He comes no more to the 'customed place;
In vain would affection save.
He hath looked his last on his father's face.
And he lies in his mother's grave!

the King asked her if her father had been John Knox.

He said: "Knox and Welch! The devil never made sic a match as that.
Knox's Daughter, Mrs Welch replied: "It's right, like, sir, for we never asked his advice."
The king then asked how many of John Knoxes children were still living, to which she replied three and that they were all lasses.
"God be thanked," exclaimed the King, "for if they had been three lads, I had never enjoyed my three kingdoms in peace."
She urged that her husband John Welch maybe allowed to return to Scotland.
"Give him his native air!" James said, "Give him the devil!"
Her wit flashed forth at that and she answered: "Give that to your hungry courtiers."
The king finally agreed that her husband could return if he would submit to the bishops. At which, she lifted up her apron, held it out, and showed herself to be her father's daugher with the reply: "Please your majesty, I'd rather keep his head there."
John Welsh died in London in April 1622, and he died while crying in sweet ecstasty in communion with Christ "Hold, Lord! Enough; I can bear no more."

God is my witness that I never meant your hurt, only your good and your comfort. To refuse to hear God's word and drive away me, his messenger, whom he has sent to tell you the truth, will not save you trouble. Oh no; it will bring on you the great wrath of God who is higher than all Cardinals or Bishops. I have offered you the truth of God. At the risk of my life I would stay here and preach to you, but now you chase me away and I must leave my case with God. You shall not long proper. God will send sharp trouble here. When he sends it, repent at once, I pray you, and turn to him or he will visit you with fire and sword.

Elizabeth Adamson, then spouse to James Barroun [Dean of Guild],burgess of Edinburgh, who, by reason that she had a troubled conscience,delighted much in the company of the said John Knox, because he,according to the grace given unto him, opened more fully the fountain ofGod’s mercies than did the common sort of teachers that she had heard before; for she had heard none except Friars. She did with such greediness drink thereof, that at her death she did express the fruit of her hearing, to the great comfort of all those that repaired to her. She suffered most grievous torment in her body, yet out of her mouth was heard nothing but praising of God, except that sometimes she would lament the troubles of those that were troubled by her. Being sometimes demanded by her sisters, what she thought of that pain which she then suffered in body, in respect of that wherewith sometimes she was troubled in spirit, she answered: ‘A thousand years of this torment, and ten times more joined unto it, is not to be compared to the quarter of an hour that I suffered in my spirit. I thank my God, through Jesus Christ, that hath delivered me from that most fearful pain; and welcome be this, even so long as it pleaseth His Godly Majesty to exercise me therewith.’
A little before her departure, she desired her sisters, and some others that were beside her, to sing a Psalm, and amongst others, she appointed the Hundred and Third Psalm, beginning ‘My soul, praise thou the Lord always.’ This ended, she said: ‘At the teaching of this Psalm, began my troubled soul first effectually to taste of the mercy of my God, which now to me is more sweet and precious, than if all the kingdoms of the earth were given to me to possess a thousand years.’ The Priests urged her with their ceremonies and superstitions; to whom she answered: ‘Depart from me, ye Sergeants of Satan! I have refused, and in you              r own presence do refuse, all your abominations. That which ye call your Sacrament and Christ’s Body, as ye have deceived us to believe in times past, is nothing but an idol, and hath nothing to do with the right Institution of Jesus Christ. Therefore, in God’s name, I command you not to trouble me.’They departed, alleging, ‘That she raved, and knew not what she said.’ Short thereafter she slept in the Lord Jesus, to no small comfort of those that saw her blessed departing. This we could not omit of this worthy woman, who gave so notable a confession, before the great light of God’s
Word did universally shine through this realm.
–History of the reformation of Religion in scotland, Vol. 1. John Knox

[This distinguished martyr was the son of the Laird of
Guthrie, the representative of an ancient Forfarshire family.
Educated for the ministry, James Guthrie, as soon as he
was ordained, took a very high place among his brethren
as a preacher of the Gospel, and a zealous defender of the
Church of Scotland. He was a man of high talents, and
spotless character, no less eminent for his candour and pru-
dence than for his burning zeal in the service of his Divine
Master. He was appointed minister of Lauder in 1638,
and was translated to Stirling in 1649. He took a leading
part in the councils of the Covenanters. Soon after the
Restoration of CharlesII. , in 1660, he was marked out for
vengeance by the Court party. He was accordingly tried
and condemned for high treason at Edinburgh. He re-
ceived his sentence with perfect equanimity, and was exe-
cuted on the 1st June, 1661. His death, like that of
Argyle. had all the features of a judicial murder. As he
was among the first, so certainly he was one of the noblest
of the Scottish Covenanting martyrs.]

Slowly, slowly tolls the death-note, at the Cross the scaffold
stands:
Freedom, law, and life are playthings where the Tyrant's voice
commands:
Found in blood your throne and temple ! fortaste of a glorious
reign ;
Though the heavens were hung in sackcloth, let the Witnesses
be slain!

'Tis the merriest month of summer, 'tis the sweetest day in
June,
And the sun breathes joy in all things, riding at his highest
noon ;
Yet a silence, deep and boding, broods on all the city round.
And a fear is on the people, as an earthquake rocked the ground .

Slowly, slowly tolls the death-note, at the Cross the scaffold
stands;
And the Guardsmen prance and circle, marshalled in their
savage bands ;
And the people swell and gather, heaving darkly like the deep,
When, in fitful gusts, the north winds o'er its troubled bosom
sweep.

JS"ow the grim Tolbooth is opened, and the death-procession
forms,
With the tinsel pomps of office, with a vain parade of arms;
Lowly in the midst, and leaning on his staff, in humble guise
Guthrie comes, the Proto-martyr! ready for the sacrifice;
Guthrie comes, the Proto-martyr! and a stern and stifled groan
Runs through the multitude; but patiently he passeth on;

And the people stand uncovered, and they gaze with stream-
ing eyes,
As when of old the fiery chariot rapt Elijah to the skies.
On his staff in meekness leaning, see him bend infirm and weak ;
Man in youth, and old in manhood, pale and sunken is his
cheek.
And adown his shoulders flowing, locks grown prematurely
gray.
Yet the spirit, strong in weakness, feels no languor nor decay ;
And a loftiness is on him, such as fits a noble mind,
Like the oak in grandeur rising, howsoever blows the wind;
On his lip, though blanched with vigils, sits the will to dare
or die,
And the fires of grace and genius sparkle in his cloudless eye.

"This frail and mortal flesh, I give it
Freely to the Lord of all!
"Were my limbs of brass and iron.
'T were an offering far too small.
Life is only ours to serve Him :
And our term of service done,
Death for Him and for His Covenant
Is an honour cheaply won.

" 4 Not as felon, nor as traitor,
Whatso evil tongues proclaim.
Am I hither come to suffer
Every brand of outward shame.
Fixed and serious in my purpose
Where the hand of God was seen :

Yet in all things have I laboured
To preserve ray garments clean.
" I was loyal when the kingdom
Bowed to Cromwell's haughty frown;
Few would own the royal standard
All defaced and trodden down.

Then the flatterers who doom me
To suffer in the street,
Whined and fawned like stricken spaniels
Round the Lord Protector's feet!

" Constant to my Prince, and constant
To the vows we both had taken,
Faithful to his right I stood, when
By his summer friends forsaken.

Loyal am I, free to render
Unto Caesar Caesar's due.
Tribute, custom, temporal honour.
And obedience leal and true.

But the King who reigns in Zion,
High o'er every earthly throne.
Shall I flinch from His allegiance?
Or my solemn vows disown?

With uplifted hands I swore it.
When the Nation joined in band.
Monarch, magistrates, and nobles,
And the peasants of the land!

Though I knew by signs and shadows
That my life-blood must be spent
In the work and in the warfare,
Struggling for the Covenant.

•' Welcome scaffold! 'tis a Bethel,
Angel- wings are hovering here;
Welcome ladder! thou shalt lift me
Far beyond this cloudy sphere.

Ah! thou Daughter of my people!
Sweet and lovely at thy birth.
When the throes of Reformation
Shook the old astonished earth,

What a blight is on thy beauty,
Since thou hast forgot thy truth.
And the joys of thy bright morning.
The sweet espousals of thy youth !

" Thou shalt suffer! God's true Gospel
Shall be darkened, and a brood
Of locusts overspread thy valleys.
Leaving neither flower nor food ;

And the wild -boar from the forest
Rush on thy defenceless home;
For thy watchmen do not warn thee
Of the woes about to come;
But they slumber, drugged with wine-lees.

Or they quail in carnal fear;
And thy bondage shall continue
Till the Lord Himself appear,
Till He make His right arm naked.

To avenge His people's wrongs!
And restore the mournful captives.
With everlasting songs.

" Here my pilgrim's staff is broken,
All my bands are now untied ;
I die to live with Him for ever.
Who for my salvation died.

Faith, which long hath groped and wavered
In this world's uncertain light,
Leaping from its mortal prison,
Now is passing into sight.

Earthly cares and human contests,
Inward pangs and darkness cease,
Now, O Lord! dismiss Tby servant
Into everlasting peace!

He hath spoken! Seal his sentence; little boots it w r hat ye do :
He hath spoken! and recorded darker, heavier doom on you!
Hurry on the doom assigned him by the minions of your State,
Rend the head from off his body, fix it on your city-gate;

Let the Lyon-Herald taint him, be his arm reversed and torn ;
Be his earthly goods confiscate, let his household wail and
mourn ;
Crush the Spiritual b} r the Carnal, answer Conscience with the
sword;
By the dungeon and the scaffold force submission to your word :

Good and Evil, Force and Freedom, let them close with dead-
ly yell !
'Tis a warfare old as Satan, deep as the abyss of Hell!
He hath spoken! and bis words are not water on the ground;
Years may vanish, but his warnings shall in all their truth be
found.

He hath spoken ! and the Nation to its inmost soul hath heard
And the withered bones are shaken by the breathings of his
word ;
And, though dead, his guiding spirit in the land for aye shall
dwell,
And Oppression's boasted strongholds shiver at the mighty
spell.
–From Poets and Poetry of the Covenants

When this noble servant of Christ was led out to execution, he was called upon by catholics to recant his profession, to which he replied:

I marvel at your rage ye hypocrites, who do so cruelly pursue the servants of God; as for me, I am now eighty two years old and cannot live long by course of nature; but an hundred shall rise out of my ashes, who, shall scatter you, ye hypocrites and persecutors of God's people, and such as you as now think yourselves the best shall not die such an honest death as I now do. I trust in God, I shall be the last who shall suffer death in this fashion, and for this cause, in this land.

Standing upon the sticks before they kindled the flames that would remove him from this world he said:

Many faithful martyrs have offered their lives most gladly, so this day I praise God that He hath called me among the rest of His servants, to seal His truth with my life; which as I have received it of Him, so I willingly offer it up for His glory. Therefore, as ye would escape eternal death, be no longer seduced by the lies of bishops, abbots, friars, monks and the rest of that sect of antichrist, but depend only upon Jesus Christ and His mercy so that ye may be delivered from condemnation.

As the fire lit and was kindled he stood at the stake and cried:

Lord have mercy on me: Pray, pray good people, while there is time.

John Howie's chapter from the Scots Worthies of Walter Mill can be read here.

IN the midst of all the calamities that came upon this Realm after the
defection of the Governor, the Earl of Arran, from Christ Jesus, came to
Scotland that Blessed Martyr of God I, MASTER GEORGE WISHART, in the
year of God 1544. He was a man of such graces as before him were never
heard within this Realm, yea, and are rare to be found yet in any man,
notwithstanding the great light of God that since his days hath shined unto
us. He was singularly learned, as well in all godly knowledge, as in all
honest human science. Also he was so clearly illuminated with the Spirit
of Prophecy, that he saw not only things pertaining to himself, but also
such things as some towns and the whole Realm afterwards felt, which he
forespake, not in secret, but in the audience of many. The beginning of his
doctrine (teaching) was in Montrose.
At Ayr, Gawin Dunbar, the Archbishop of Glasgow, by instigation of
Cardinal Beaton, came with his gatherings to make resistance to Master
George, and did first occupy the Kirk. The Earl of Glencairn repaired with
his friends to the town with diligence, and so did diverse Gentlemen of
Kyle. When all were assembled, conclusion was taken that they would
have the Kirk. Thereto Master George utterly repugned, saying: ‘Let him
alone! His sermon will not much hurt. Let us go to the Market Cross.’
And so they did, where Master George made so notable a sermon, that the
very enemies themselves were confounded. The Archbishop preached to
his jackmen and to some old bosses of the town. The sum of all his sermon
was: ‘They say that we should preach! Why not? Better late thrive than
never thrive! Haud (keep) us still for your Bishops, and we shall provide
better the next time.’ This was the beginning and the end of the
Archbishop’s sermon, who with haste departed the town, but returned not
again to fulfill his promise.
The said Master George was required to come to the Kirk of Mauchline,
as he did. But the Sheriff of Ayr caused man the Kirk for the preservation
of a tabernacle that was there, beautiful to the eye. Some zealous of the
parish, among whom was Hugh Campbell of Kinyeancleuch, offended that
they should be debarred their Parish Kirk, concluded by force to enter. But
Master George withdrew Hugh Campbell, and said unto him: ‘Brother,
Christ Jesus is as potent upon the fields as in the kirk. He Himself oftener
preached in the desert, at the sea side, and in other places judged profane,
than He did in the Temple of Jerusalem. It is the Word of Peace that God
sends by me. The blood of no man shall be shed this day for the preaching
of it.’ So, withdrawing the whole people, he came to a dyke in a muir edge,
upon the south-west side of Mauchline, upon which he ascended, the
multitude standing and sitting about him. God gave the day pleasing and
hot; and lie continued in preaching more than three hours. In that sermon
God wrought so wonderfully with him, that one of the most wicked men
in that country, Laurence Rankin, Laird of Sheill, was converted. The tears
ran from his eyes in such abundance, that all men wondered. His
conversion was without hypocrisy; for his life and conversation witnessed
it in all times to come.
While this faithful servant of God was thus occupied in Kyle, word rose
that the plague of pestilence was risen in Dundee, which began within four
days after Master George was inhibited preaching; and the pest was so
vehement, that it almost passed credibility, to hear what number departed
every four and twenty hours. The certainty being understood, Master
George took his leave of Kyle, and that with the regret of many. But no
request could make him remain. His reason was, ‘They are now in trouble,
and they need comfort. Perchance this Hand of God will make them now
to magnify and reverence that Word which before, for the fear of men,
they set at light price.’
Coming to Dundee, the joy of the Faithful was exceeding great. Master
George delayed no time, but gave signification that he would preach; and,
because the most part were either sick, or else were in company with
those that were sick, he chose the head of the East Port of the town for his
preaching place; and the whole sat or stood within, and the sick and
suspected without the Port. The text on which his first sermon was made,
he took from the Hundred and Seventh Psalm: ‘ He sent His Word and
healed them’; and therewith joined these words, ‘It is neither herb nor
plaster, O Lord, but Thy Word healeth all!’ In which sermon, he most
comfortably did entreat of the dignity and utility of God’s Word; the
punishment that comes for contempt of the same; the promptitude of
God’s Mercy to such as truly turn to Him; yea, the great happiness of
them whom God taketh from this misery, even in His own gentle
visitation, which the malice of man can neither eke nor impair. By which
sermon he so raised up the hearts of all that heard him, that they regarded
not death, but judged them more happy that should depart, than such as
should remain behind; considering that they knew not if they should have
such a comforter with them at all times. He spared not to visit them that
lay in the very extremity, and comforted them as he could. And he caused
minister all things necessary to those that might use meat or drink; and in
that point was the Town wondrous benevolent; for the poor were no more
neglected than were the rich.
While he was spending his life to comfort the afflicted, the Devil ceased
not to stir up his own son, Cardinal Beaton. He corrupted by money a
desperate Priest named Sir John Wighton, to slay Master George, who
looked not to himself in all things so circumspectly as worldly men would
have used. On a day when the sermon was ended, and the people
departing, no man suspecting danger, and therefore not heeding Master
George, the Priest stood waiting at the foot of the stet s, his gown loose,
and his drawn whinger in his hand under his gown. Master George, who
was most sharp of eye and judgment, marked him, and as he came near, he
said, ‘My friend, what would ye do?’ Therewith lie clapped his hand
upon the Priest’s hand, wherein the whinger was, and took it from him.
The Priest abashed, fell down at his feet, and openly confessed the verity.
The noise rising and coming to the ears of the sick, they cried: ‘Deliver the
traitor to us, or else we will take him by force’; and they thrust in at the
gate. But Master George took him in his arms and said: ‘Whosoever
troubleth him shall trouble me. He hath hurt me in nothing, but he hath
done great comfort both to you and to me, to wit, he hath let us
understand what we may fear. In times to come, we will watch better.’ So
lie appeased both the one part and the other, and saved the life of him that
sought his.
In the hinder end of Yule, passed Master George Wishart to Haddington.
The first night he lay within the town. The second night he lay at
Lethington, the Laird whereof [Sir Richard Maitland, Secretary
Lethington’s father] was ever civil, albeit not persuaded in religion. The
day following, before Master George passed to the sermon, there came to
him a boy with a letter from the West Land, which received and read, he
called for JOHN KNOX1 had waited upon him carefully from the time he
came to Lothian; with whom he began to enter in purpose (enter into
conversation): ‘that he wearied of the world, for he perceived that men
began to be weary of God.’
John Knox, wondering that he desired to keep any purpose before sermon,
for that was never his accustomed use before, said: ‘Sir, the time of sermon
approacheth; I will leave you for the present to your meditation’; and so
left him. Master George paced up and down behind the High Altar more
than half an hour: his weary countenance declaring the grief and alteration
of his mind. At last he passed to the pulpit, but the auditure was small. He
should have begun to have entreated of the Second Table of the Law; but
thereof in that sermon he spake very little, but began on this planner: —
‘O Lord, how long shall it be that Thy Holy Word shall be
despised, and men shall not regard their own salvation? I have
heard of thee, Haddington, that in thee would have been at a vain
Clerk [or Miracle] Play two or three thousand people; and now, to
hear the Messenger of the Eternal God, of all the town or parish
can not be numbered a hundred persons! Sore and fearful shall the
plagues be that shall ensue upon this thy contempt! With fire and
sword shalt thou be plagued! Yea, thou Haddington, strangers shall
possess thee, and you, the present inhabitants, shall either in
bondage serve your enemies, or else ye shall be chased from your
habitations; and that because ye have not known, nor will not
know, the time of God’s merciful visitation.’
In such vehemency and threatening continued that servant of God near an
hour and a half, in which he declared all the plagues that ensued, as plainly
as after our eyes saw them performed. In the end he said: ‘I have forgotten
myself and the matter that I should have entreated; but let these my last
words as concerning public preaching remain in your minds, till God send
you new comfort.’ Thereafter, he made a short paraphrase upon the
Second Table, with an exhortation to Patience, to the Fear of God, and to
the Works of Mercy; and so put end, as it were making his last testament.
The issue declared that the Spirit of Truth and of True Judgment were
both in his heart and mouth; for that same night was he apprehended,
before midnight, in the House of Ormiston, by the Earl Bothwell2 made for
money butcher to the Cardinal.
The manner of Master George Wishart’s taking was thus: —Departing
from Haddington, lie took his good-night, as it were for ever, of all his
acquaintance, especially from Hugh Douglas of Longniddry. John Knox
pressing to go with him, Master George said: ‘Nay, return to your bairns
(pupils), and God bless you. One is sufficient for one sacrifice.’3 He then
caused a two-handed sword, which commonly was carried with him, to be
taken from John Knox, who, albeit unwillingly, obeyed and returned with
Hugh Douglas. Master George having, to accompany him, the Laird of
Ormiston, John Sandilands of Calder, younger, the Laird of Brunestane,
and others, with their servants, passed on foot—for it was a vehement
frost—to Ormiston. After supper, he held a comfortable purpose of the
death of God’s chosen children, and merrily said, ‘Methinks that I desire
earnestly to sleep’; and ‘Will we sing a Psalm?’ So he appointed the fiftyfirst
Psalm, which began thus in Scottish metre: —
‘Have mercy on me now, good Lord,
After Thy great mercie,
My sinful life does me remord,
Which sore has grieved Thee.’4
Which being ended he passed to his chamber, and, sooner than his common
diet was, passed to bed with these words, ‘God grant quiet rest.’5
Before midnight, the place was beset about so that none could escape to
make advertisement. At the first word, Master George said, ‘Open the
gates. The Blessed Will of my God be clone!’ The Earl Bothwell called for
the Laird, and said: ‘It was but vain to make him to hold his house; for the
Governor a td the Cardinal with all their power were coming ‘—indeed,
the Cardinal was at Elphinstone Tower, not a mile distant—’ but if he
would deliver the mall to him, he would promise upon his honor, that it
should pass the power of the Cardinal to do him any harm or seaith.’ At
this promise, made in the presence of God, and hands struck by both the
parties for observation of the promise, Master George was delivered to the
hands of the Earl Bothwell. He was carried first to Edinburgh, and
thereafter brought back for the fashion’s (appearance) sake to the house of
Hailes again, which was the principal place that then the Earl of Bothwell
had in Lothian. But, as gold and women have corrupted all worldly and
fleshly men from the beginning, so did they the Earl. He made some
resistance at the first, by reason of his promise. But an effeminate man
cannot long withstand the assaults of a gracious Queen; and so was the
servant of God transported to Edinburgh Castle, and afterwards to the
Sea-Tower of St. Andrews.
In the meantime at Ormiston the Lairds of Calder, Brunestane and
Ormiston made fair countenance, and entreated the gentlemen to drink, and
to bait their horses, till they might put themselves in readiness to ride with
them. Brunestane then conveyed himself, first secretly, then by speed of
foot, to Ormiston Wood, and thence to Drundallon (?Tantallon), and so
escaped. The other two were put into the Castle of Edinburgh, where
Calder remained until his Bond of Man-rent (engagement to support) to
the Cardinal was the means of his deliverance. Ormiston freed himself by
leaping the wall of the Castle, betwixt ten hours and eleven before noon;
and so breaking ward, he escaped prison, which he unjustly suffered.
If we interlace merriness with earnest matters, pardon us, good Reader6 for
this fact is so notable that it deserveth long memory: —
The Cardinal Beaton was known proud; and Gawin Dunbar, Archbishop
of Glasgow, was known a glorious fool. Yet, because he had been the
King’s Master (tutor), he was Chancellor of Scotland. The Cardinal being
in the town of Glasgow, and the Archbishop in the Castle, question rises
for bearing their crosses. The Cardinal alleged, by reason of his
Cardinalship, and because he was Legalus Natus, and Primate within
Scotland in the Kingdom of Antichrist, that he should have the preeminence,
and that his cross should not only go before, but also that it
only should be borne wheresoever he was. The Archbishop lacked no
reasons for maintenance of his glory. He was an Archbishop in his own
diocese, and in his own Cathedral seat and church, and therefore ought to
give place to no man. The power of the Cardinal was but begged from
Rome, and appertained but to his own person and not to his bishopric; for
it might be that his successor should not be Cardinal. But his dignity was
annexed with his office, and did appertain to all that ever should be
Archbishops of Glasgow.’ Howsoever these doubts might be resolved by
the Doctors of Divinity of both the Prelates, the decision was as ye shall
hear.
Coming forth or going in—all is one—at the Choir Door of Glasgow Kirk,
there begins striving for state betwixt the two cross-bearers. From
glooming, they come to shouldering; from shouldering, they go to buffets,
and from dry blows to neffs and neffelling (fists and fisticuffing). Then, for
charity’s sake, they cry, Dispersit, dedit pauperibus, and essay which of
the crosses was finest metal, which staff was strongest, and which crossbearer
could best defend his master’s preeminence; and that there should
be no superiority in that behalf, to the ground go both the crosses. Then
began no little fray, but yet a merry game. Roehers (surplices) were rent;
tippets were torn, crowns were knapped (broken), and side (long) gowns
might have been seen wantonly wag from the one wall to the other. Many
of them lacked beards. That was the more pity; therefore they could not
buckle each other by the birse (beard) as bold men would have done. But,
fie on the jackmen that did not their duty! Had the one part of them reencountered
the other, then had all gone right. But the Sanctuary, we
suppose, saved the lives of many. How merrily so ever this be written, it
was bitter bourding (jesting) to the Cardinal and his Court. It was more
than irregularity. Yea, it might well have been judged lese-majesty
(treason) to the Son of Perdition, the Pope’s own person; and yet the
other, in his folly as proud as a peacock, would let the Cardinal know that
he was a Bishop when the other was but Beaton, before he got the Abbey
of Aberbrothock (Arbroath).
This enmity was judged mortal, and without hope of reconciliation. But
the blood of the innocent servant of God, Master George Wishart, buried
in oblivion all that bragging; for the Archbishop of Glasgow was the first
to whom the Cardinal wrote, signifying what was done, and earnestly
craving that he would assist with his presence and counsel how such an
enemy to their Estate might be suppressed. Thereto was not the other
slow, but kept time appointed, sat next to the Cardinal, voted and
subscribed first in the rank, and lay over the East Blockhouse (tower) with
the Cardinal till the Martyr of God was consumed by fire.
This we must note, that as all these beasts consented in heart to the
slaughter of that innocent, so did they approve it with their presence,
having the whole ordnance of the Castle of St. Andrews bent towards the
place of execution, which was nigh to the Castle, ready to have shot if any
would have made defense or rescue to God’s Servant.
The Bishops, with their accomplices, condemned this innocent man to be
burnt as a heretic, thinking verily, that they should do to God good
sacrifice, conformable to the saying of Jesus Christ in the Gospel of St.
John, Chapter 16:
‘They shall excommunicate you; yea, and the time shall come, that he
which killeth you shall think that he hath done to God good service.’

From the Works of John Knox, Volume on "History of the Reformation of Religion in Scotland."

The expectation of gain maketh the labouring man to rise timely in the morning, that he may go about his toilsome work. This thought made me rise out of my bed this morning, desiring to employ my little pains in those things which perish not. And O! what profit and advantage were it, if by anything I insert here, I could do any good to the immortal souls of you, my dear children! You are often in my thoughts, and the matter of my prayers: for the more I am separate from you here, the more pressing and fervent my desires are to have you with me for ever in my Father's kingdom; into which, when once I am entered, I cannot come back to inform you of these everlasting joys and pleasures: God alloweth of no such mean. Therefore, while yet in this world, desire I to leave this as my last will to you. O flee from the wrath and condemnation of the great and dreadful God, with more speed and diligence than if thousands of most cruel enemies were pursuing you with drawn swords at your heels. There is a possibility of escaping from men and their strokes are but of short endurance; but you may see in the 139th Psalm, that "there is no hiding or escaping from the Almighty," neither is there any delivery for those who are once shut down into that bottomless pit of utter darkens's; but these wretches must there endure unspeakable torment in everlasting flames, burning without the least comfort of light. "O! who can dwell with devouring fire," in that place where all sorrows, sickness, filthiness, and pains, will be confined? Among all these thousands of devils and damned souls, there will not be the least grain weight of pity one toward another. Serious thoughts of hell are certainly a strong motive to move a soul to come into Jesus Christ; but I Verily believe that a view of God's excellent, wonderful, and free loving-kindness, is a far more prevailing motive. o how strong are these cords of love! None but they that feel them know, and what they know is only this, that they who are once tied in them, and drawn with them, can never break or come out of them. O sweet and pleasant chains! It is only true liberty to be in them; it is true health to be sick of love to this lovely one. What a delightful thing is it to "sit or stand under his banner of love!" It is our heaven here, and it is the heaven of angels and saints above; who have no other, will never desire any other food but this his love, which had no beginning, and never will have any end. The soul which once getteth a true taste of it will ever desire more of it. WE cannot send up so useful a petition as to pray that this love may be shed abroad in our hearts, and it were our wisdom often every hour to repeat this desire in our thoughts, when we may not conveniently utter it with our lips. This jewel, is so to speak, the first mover of all other graces; and it will shine in heaven when they shall cease. This maketh the sourjourning saints endure and cheerfully suffer all things, finding the sharpest afflictions and heaviest crosses easy and light. My children, God, who only knoweth the heart, knoweth how earnestly I am to have you live this excellent life of faith in Jesus Christ, which worketh by love. It is as a fire in my bosom, the desire I have t have you fully persuaded of these truths, which both know and feel. There is none in the world whose happiness I desire more than yours, who are to me as dear as mine own soul. I shall not give over to pray for you so long as I am in this life.
From the Memoirs of Walter Pringle.

Lord, I desire to bless thy name for thy former loving-kindnesses unto me in the day of my strait, in helping and standing by me when overcharged with affliction, and deserted of friends. A Poor insufficient creature, taken up with nothing but vanities of all sorts. O what moved so holy a God to condescend to look upon me, and pass by so many much more worthy than poor, undeserving, me! O praises be unto thee, O Most High! O that my tongue were employed though time in magnifying the holy name of so merciful a God! May, not I say, His mercies are over all his other works to me? may not I sit down and admire free love? First, in inclining my heart to love him and his people, and in casting my lot amongst the godly, and in bestowing a godly and kind husband on me, (when left destitute without father or mother), and that he did so care for me as not to suffer me to enjoy the desires of my heart, but was to pains to hedge in my ways with thorns; and his infinite love suffered me not to sit at my ease, enjoying my pleasures in the day of Zion's calamity, and prepared the way by smaller trials for greater. Thou didst in thy infinite wisdom, not at first cast me into the hottest flames of the furnace, lest I should not have been able to stand, but in fright, fainted and turned back. But, O praise! praise be to Him who inhabits eternity, that condescended so far to me, a worm, as sweetly to train me up, in alluring me, and speaking comfortably to me, at my first entry into the wilderness. Thou castest thy word to be to my soul as the honey and the honey-comb. Thou madest me sit under thy shadow with great delight, and thy fruits were sweet unto my taste; so that many a time, which to onlookers was sad, was sweet to me. The Lord did so support and feast me in his banqueting-house, that I was made to rejoice in the midst of my tribulations. Likewise, thou didst not suffer me to go on with those that were indifferent in Christ's matters, but with thy rods thou dist raise such a zeal and love on my spirit, and so filledst my mouth with arguments, that I could not see anything like defection from, or wrong to any of thy truth, without resenting, testifying, and contending against it. Thou so far changedst my heart, which was proud and haughty, much disdaining the converse of the poor; but thou helpedst me to be denied to great folk, and to the reproach I suffered on that head, making the company of the poor, that were godly in the land, dear unto me; and I hope they shall be so while they keep in God's way, he having passed by the great ones, and honoured the poor body to testify for him; and those whom he honours, I desire through grace to honour. Praise be to thee whose care of me was such, that it was ministers who were valiant for Christ that were sent in my way, such as did not flatter me in my sin, but faithfully and freely did hold out, in the gospel, what was sin and duty, and sealed the same with their blood. How didst thou encourage me with many sweet answers of prayer, to confirm me in thy love! Thou didst help me, in the days of thy love to me, when I wa put out of all, stripped bare and destitute, not knowing of shelter to me and my poor babes, how calmly and quickly didst thou help me to go under it, so that I was made to fear that was stupidity, and not supporting grace. And such was thy love, for there was a friend suffered to wrong me in business, and the Lord withdrew, and then I was as a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke; I could not get it borne until I mourned for my folly, in thinking that nature could do any thing in me, without assisting grace; then he helped me to make a full resignation of new of all that was mine, and to look beyond all earthly portions unto that noble inheritance which thou hast purchased with thy blood, and gavest me full contentedness in all my sufferings, both from friends and foes.

And when thou didst (for the trail of my faith and patience) throw me in very hot flames of affliction, having all discouragements from the world that a poor thing could be trysted with; and that which was sorest to me, not having that measure of the sense of thy presence as sometimes before–but, O that condescendence! O that fatherly love that did not suffer me to sink in this storm, which was lightly looked on by the most part, few to sympathise with me, but many thinking it their duty to add to my affliction. O praises, praises be to thee, who in that time [didst] help me to sit silent, bearing thy indignation patiently, because I sinned against thee, yet they mercies did not fail towards me; but thou didst in this extremity secretly support me, and didst, by restraining grace, bound me in, not giving me liberty to seek sinful deliverance. O Lord, continue in thy love, in keeping me in the way, that I may have reason to set up my Ebenezer and to say, "Hitherto hath the Lord helped me." O thou hast begun this good work, perfect it, that I may praise thy holy name through time and all eternity. And now, O Lord, out of the sense of all these thy loving-kindnessess towards thy poor handmaid, I desire, in thy strength, to renew former engagements, and solemnly and to enter in covenant with thee. O Lord, help me to go sincerely about it, and let thy presence go along with the duty! O Lord, I here desire to enter solemnly in covenant with thee, taking thee for my Lord and Master, and accepting thee on thy own terms; taking thee for my King, Priest and Prophet, and in my station, through thy grace to stand by truth and cheerfully to take on the yoke and follow thee. Lord, thou knowest my weakness–I desire to believe that thou wilt be a present help in the day of need to me, according to thy promise, and I in the faith of this do go on. I here give my hearty consent to thy coming and taking possession in my soul; and to thy casting out of all there that stand in opposition to thee, a conqueror over them. I desire here to take thee for my all, to be ruled and governed by thee, and shall endeavour, in thy strength to war against them: for they are as a tyrant not having consent. Whatever I have been, I do here accept the offer of peace through Christ, and do make a sure covenant with thee this day, never to be ranversed, hoping thou wilt make all forthcoming unto me, both on thy part and mine. I desire here to own all the controverted truths that are founded on thy holy word, which word I desire to be my rule; and to confess thee before men, that thou mayest confess me before thy Father. Lord, give me it in that hour, if I shall be brought before great ones for thy names sake. I desire to adhere to all the articles of the Covenants, National and Solemn League, to which I stand engaged, only I disown the kings part of it, he having unkinged himself by the breach of covenants, and by making our land a land of graven images, that was so solemnly given up to God. I desire in weakness to adhere unto it, although burnt by the hand of the hangman, and now buried by the hand of those that better things were expected of. O Lord, I desire to close all by giving myself up to thee, and all mine. Accept Lord Jesus Christ, and help to perform and own me as thy covenanted child, protesting humbly, that failing on my part (against which I resolve as thou knowest) shall not make void this covenant, I have accepted of thy offer, on thy own terms, and will henceforth wait for what is good, that when thou comest I may rejoice in thee, crying, This is my God, and I have waited for him. As witness to my hand, at Blackness Castle, December 1687.

Janet Hamilton

(sic subscribiitur)

From the Particular Soliloquies and Covenant Engagments of Mrs Janet Hamilton

Her life and departure are described thus:

Never did any end their days with more distinguished marks of a divine work of happy faith and assurance. She had been a sanct indeed all her life long, but she finished her course gloriously. Her last words were taken by the accurate and faithful pen of a reverend minister, and her elogy was composed by that great and good divine Mr. William Violent. 

Her husband's diaries included this note:

The dying words of my glorified dear are in many good Christian's hands and her son John's dying words, and hers, by God's blessing have been edifying and confirming, and comforting to many, and have had good affect upon the careless and thoughtless in matters of religious concernes.

An Epitaph on the death of the truly excellent, The Lady Coltness.

Here lies an elect lady, saint devote,
Rare, wise, true mother, Margaret Eliot:
She loved her loving God above all things,
Herself and hers she did to him resign,
In clifts of rock this doves groans did rebound,
She prayed not in the street with a trumpet sound,
Her praying voice scarce did her closet find
She prayed with groans, and tears, heart and bended mind!
Great modesty, comely, chast, severe, serene;
Nothing more grave, nothing more sweet again;
A spirit high, but not lift up withal,
A wit most sharp, but not imbrued with gall.
In a vile world, she pure and clean abode,
In a false world, she stood still true for God;
A lovely, lowly, loving wife, her husband's love,
but more beloved, of her Beloved above.
Coltness she dressed, left it in good array,
But since she's gone, its lustre is away;
She who, while living, taught by word and deed,
Unwearied still she did so while she died;
Herself and hers unto God bequeath,
Was Margaret Eliot's work in life and death.

This epitaph was written by her own minister Mr. William Violand, minister at Cambusenthan.

She died aged thirty seven years, five months and eight days.

To this melancholy place I came, and continued there in prison for two years and a half; for I came in January 1677, and came out in July 1679. And here I had likewise experience of the goodness of God towards me; and, 1. In providing for me, without being chargeable to any for such things as I stood in need of. 2. In preserving and supporting me under great pressures of spirit, from sin, sufferings, tentations, grief's, sorrows, and untenderness of brethren and friends, so as I was not therewith overwhelmed. 3. In preserving me in health all that time. 4. That in this time, partly belling household-plenishing and improving of my estate I paid and cleared one hundred pounds of debt. 5. I had the comfort and edification of fellow-prisoners, both ministers and others, some there before me, and other brought in since my coming, whose company was sweet and edifying many times to me. 6. We had liberty, for the most part, of taking the air up the hill; my solitary walks were sometimes very pleasant to me. 7. I had the comfort of friends that came in to see us from the city and country. 8. I had some special visits from God, ordinarily in private duties, and sometimes in worshipping and conference with others. 9. Some increase, (I think) I found in gifts, knowledge, and grace; some further discoveries of the knowledge of Christ and the gospel I never had before. 10. I was made some way useful by writing letters abroad, praying with, and preaching to, and conference with others. 11. And that I had a cleanly unexpected deliverance from this sad place, 12. Some improvement I made of this price that was put in my hand through grace that helped me: this I think I was bound to take notice of, and be thankful to the Lord.

As for my exercises here, and improvement of my time; I judged, when I first came here, that I was called to some work and improvement of this price put in my hand: and therefore did I, 1. Exercise myself in lamenting my sins, and mis-spent life, and great short-coming. 2. I laboured after, and desired some further knowledge of God and Christ and grace, and to glorify God in my sufferings. Some hours, morning and evening and mid-day, I spent in meditation, in praising, in reading the Scripture, for keeping up and increasing communion with God, and increase of grace constantly; besides several fast-days, which were my sweetest seasons and best times. 4. Every time I read the Scriptures, exhorted and taught there from, did sing Psalms, and prayed with such of our society as our master did allow and permit to worship God together, and this two times a day. 5. I studied Hebrew and Greek, and gained some knowledge in these Oriental languages. 6. I likewise read some divinity, and wrote a Treatise of Faith, with some other miscellanies, and several letters to Christian friends and relations. Thus I spent my time, and not without some fruit.

But prisons must be prisons, and all afflictions, though never so well-sweetened, will be in some measure grievous. Though the Lord was pleased to "stay his rough wind in the day of his east wind," and to put a very light yoke upon our necks; yet was it still a yoke, and some bitter ingredients were mixed in this cup, something of the gall and vinegar we found, both that the Lord might discover and manifest to the world the cruel and unclean nature of the spirit of prelacy, and that our patience and faith might be the better exercised, and our faithfulness to so Christ, and finally, to wean us from the world, and sweeten to us the love of God in supporting under such troubles and delivering us out of them. For, 1. It could not be but sad to me and my brethren to think that we were cast out of the vineyard, and become useless, our commission taken from us, and could not glorify God as we had done. 2. Abstinence from natural and civil relations and friends was bitter, whose company was sweet, and which now we could not enjoy. Now we might say, "Lover and friend hast thou removed from us," Psalm lxxxviii. ult. 3. The company of the ungodly, to whose hands we were delivered, and who ruled over us, who knew nothing of God, but were enemies to him, was grievous; that we lived among lions, wolves and serpents, and dwelt in the tents of Kedar. 4. It was then the "days of old, when the candle of God shined upon our tabernacle, when my wife, children, and relations were about me; when I went with the multitude that kept holy days:" then (I say) did these things of old come and assault my remembrance with a sensible and affecting grief. 5. Our own servants were turned out from us and we made to see servants whom we knew not; but this turned to our good and great advantage. 6. The great comfort that we had in worshipping of God together, and in eating together, was taken away from us by the folly and fears of some, and envy and malice of others, who grudged us this comfort, and who ruled us, and made us separate in worship and diet, and would not suffer us to come together, whereby our expenses were much increased, and we deprived of the variety of gifts. 7. Our letters that came to us, or were sent by us, were al looked many times, though they had no orders for it. 8. Our drink was dear and exceeding bad, and we behooved to take it from our governors, and pay exorbitantly for it. 9. Sometimes when they would take it in their heads, they would shut us all close up, and not suffer any of us to speak to another, and this not only without, but contrary to the council's order, who committed us free prisoners, and to have the liberty of the Rock. This unwarranted restraint did sometimes afflict us, but our patience overcame it. 10. They vexed us by mixing in our company, and there blaspheming sometimes; and other times by seeking to ensnare us by the words of our lips, and tabling discourse in public matters which, seeing their malicious ends, we shunned. 11. They laboured to debauch our servant-maid to wait upon us. 12. They by force and power kept the poor soldiers and others from conversing with or hearing us on the Lord's Day, although the poor creatures would gladly have heard us. 13. At the same time, likewise, I was very untenderly handled by some false brethren engaged in the same public cause with ourselves. 14. We were sometimes in winter and spring very hardly put to it for want of victuals and drink, insomuch that we had no other than snow water or corrupted water sprinkled over with a little oat-meal to drink and some dry fish. These with other things made our lives sometimes, and at sometimes bitter to us.
From the "Memoirs of Rev. James Fraser" cited from Volume 2 of "Scottish Puritans."