Flowers that Fell

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.

[The martyr to whom reference is here made is James
Guthrie, whose last words were, " The Covenants ! the cov
enants shall yet be Scotland's reviving." In the story of
his life, as told by the Rev. Thomas Thomson, is the fol-
lowing passage which Mrs. Menteath has made the subject
of her touching poem : " James Guthrie had a son named
William, about four or five years old ; so young, indeed,
and therefore so ignorant of the dismal tragedy that was
approaching, that James Cowie (Mr. Guthrie's servant,
precentor, and amanuensis) could scarcely detain him from
playing in the streets on the day of his father's execution.
Guthrie, whose soul yearned over his boy, so soon to be-
come an orphan, took him upon his knee and gave him
such advices as were suited to his capacity. He bade him
to become serious — to become religious — and to be sure to
devote himself to that honest and holy course in which his
father had walked to the death. 'Willie,' he said, 'they
will tell you. and cast up to you, that your father was hang-
ed ; but think not shame of it, for it is upon a good cause.'
After the execution, the head was set up on the Nether
Bow Port as a spectacle for the finger of scorn to point at.
But among those who repaired thither, and looked up at
the long grey hairs rustling in the wind, and the features
embrowning and drying in the sun, one little hoy was oft-
en seen gazing fixedly upon that countenance with looks
of love and terror — and still returning, day after day, and
hour after hour, as if there was for him a language in that
silent head which none else could hear. And who could
that child be but Guthrie's young son — the little ' Willie'
of the Martyr's last affectionate counsels and cares? His
love of playing in the streets was now over ; a new occu-
pation had absorbed him ; and as he returned from these
pilgrimages, we may conceive with what feelings his moth-
er heard him when, on her anxious inquiry as to where he
had been, his usual reply was, ' I have been seeing my
father's head !' The dyiug admonitions of the departed
parent, enforced by such a solemnizing spectacle, seem to
have sunk deep into William's heart ; for it was observed
that after his father's death, he spent much time in solitude,
and was often employed in prayer. Resolving to walk in
his father's steps, he directed his studies to the^jhurch,
and became a scholar of excellent promise ; but he died in
early youth, when he was entering upon trials to be licensed
as a preacher."]

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!” continue

On his being ordered to leave Dundee he cried out with tears running down his face:

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.

[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

The martyrdom of Walter Mill effectually brought the downfall of popery in Scotland; the Scottish people were so enraged by his death, that the solemnly bound themselves to oaths and covenants and the Truth, declaraing they would rather take up arms than be subjected again to Papal tyranny.

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.

From George Wishart’s arrival in Scotland in 1544 and subsequent persecution of:

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. continue

At some point shortly I hopt to post this lady’s last words, who was a friend to the Scottish Covenants, and Presbyterians of Scotland.

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.”

After this cruelty was used upon the Castle Hill of Edinburgh—to the
effect that the rest of the Bishops might show themselves no less fervent
to suppress the light of God than he of St. Andrews15 was—two were
apprehended in the Diocese of Glasgow. The one was named Jeronimus
Russell, a Cordelier friar (Franciscan), a young man of a meek nature,
quick spirit, and good letters; and one Kennedy, who passed not eighteen
years of age, one of excellent injyne (genius) in Scottish poesy. To assist
the Bishop of Glasgow in that cruel judgment, or at least to cause him dip
his hands in the blood of the Saints of God, were sent Master John
Lauder, Archdeacon of Teviotdale, Master Andrew Oliphant Secretary to
Cardinal Beaton, and Friar Maltman, sergeants of Satan, apt for that
purpose.
The day appointed to their cruelty having approached, the two poor
saints of God were presented before those bloody butchers; and grievous
were the crimes that were laid to their charge. Kennedy at the first was
faint, and gladly would have recanted. But while place of repentance was
denied him, the Spirit of God, which is the Spirit of all comfort, began to
work in him, yea, the inward comfort began to burst forth, as well in
visage as in tongue and word. His countenance began to be cheerful, and,
with a joyful voice, upon his knees, he said: ‘O Eternal God! How
wondrous is that Love and Mercy that Thou bearest unto mankind, and
unto me the most caitiff and miserable wretch above all others! Even now,
when I would have denied Thee, and Thy Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, my
only Savior, and so have cast myself into everlasting damnation, Thou, by
Thine own hand, hast pulled me from the very bottom of Hell, and made
me to feel that heavenly comfort which takes from me that ungodly fear,
wherewith before I was oppressed. Now I defy death. Do what ye please!
I praise my God I am ready.’
The godly and learned Jeronimus, railed upon by these godless tyrants,
answered: ‘This is your hour and the power of darkness. Now sit ye as
judges; and we stand wrongfully accused, and more wrongfully to be
condemned. But the day shall come when our innocence shall appear, and
ye shall see your own blindness to your everlasting confusion. Go forward
and fulfill the measure of your iniquity! ’ While these servants of God
thus behaved themselves, a variance arose betwixt the Bishop of Glasgow,
Gawin Dunbar, and the Beasts that came from the Cardinal. The Bishop
said, ‘I think it better to spare these men, than to put them to death.’
Whereat the idiot Doctors, offended, said: ‘What will ye do, my Lord?
Will ye condemn all that my Lord Cardinal, and the other Bishops and we
have done? If so ye do, ye show yourself enemy to the Kirk and us; and
so we will repute you, be ye assured.’ At which words, the faithless man,
affrayed, adjudged the innocents to die, according to the desire of the
wicked. The meek and gentle Jerome Russell comforted the other with
many comfortable sentences, oft saying unto him: ‘Brother, fear not!
More potent is He that is in us, than he that is in the world. The pain that
we shall suffer is short, and shall be light; but our joy and consolation shall
never have end. Therefore let us contend to enter in unto our Master and
Savior by the same Strait Way, which He hath trod before us. Death can
not destroy us; for it is destroyed already by Him for whose sake we
suffer.’ With these and the like comfortable sentences, they passed to the
place of execution, and constantly triumphed over Death and Satan, even
in the midst of the flaming fire.
From “The History of the Reformation in Scotland” By John Knox